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University of California • Berkeley 

From the book collection of 


bequeathed by him 
or donated by his wife 

Mildred S. Bronson 

Digitized by the Internet Archive 

in 2007 with funding from 

IVIicrosoft Corporation 














W^t KitoersJiUe DDresfsf, Cambrtuge 


&m (i3rboujSian6 Copicjj ^nnteH 






of london 

My Dear Furnivall: 

Without the Percy MS. no one would pretend to make a collection of the 
English Ballads, and but for you that manuscript would still, I thitik, be 
beyond reach of man, yet exposed to destructive chances. Through your 
exertions and personal sacrifices, directly, the fam,ous and precious folio 
has been printed ; and, ifidirectly, in consequence of the same, it has been 
transferred to a place where it is safe, and open to inspection. This is only 
one of a hundred reasons which I have for asking you to accept the dedica- 
tion of this book from 

Your grateful friend and fellow-student, 

F. J. Child. 

Cambridge, Mass., December i, 1882. 



It was my wish not to begin to print The English and Scottish Popular Ballads until 
this unrestricted title should be justified by my having at command every valuable copy of 
every known ballad. A continuous effort to accomplish this object has been making for some 
nine or ten years, and many have joined in it. By correspondence, and by an extensive 
diffusion of printed circulars, I have tried to stimulate collection from tradition in Scotland, 
Canada, and the United States, and no becoming means has been left unemployed to obtain 
possession of unsunned treasures locked up in writing. The gathering from tradition has 
been, as ought perhaps to have been foreseen at this late day, meagre, and generally of 
indifferent quality. Materials in the hands of former editors have, in some cases, been lost 
beyond recovery, and very probably have lighted fires, like that large cantle of the Percy 
manuscript, maxime deflendus ! Access to several manuscript collections has not yet been 
secured. But what is still lacking is believed to bear no great proportion to what is in hand, 
and may soon come in, besides : meanwhile, the uncertainties of the world forbid a longer 
delay to publish so much as has been got together. 

Of hitherto unused materials, much the most important is a large collection of ballads 
made by Motherwell. For leave to take a copy of this I am deeply indebted to the present 
possessor, Mr Malcolm Colquhoun Thomson, of Glasgow, who even allowed the manuscript 
to be sent to London, and to be retained several months, for my accommodation. Mr J. 
Wylie Guild, of Glasgow, also permitted the use of a note-book of Motherwell's which 
supplements the great manuscript, and this my unwearied friend, Mr James Barclay 
Murdoch, to whose solicitation I owe both, himself transcribed with the most scrupulous 
accuracy. No other good office, asked or unasked, has Mr Murdoch spared. 

Next in extent to the Motherwell collections come those of the late Mr Kinloch. These 
he freely placed at my disposal, and Mr William Macmath, of Edinburgh, made during 
Mr Kinloch's life an exquisite copy of the larger part of them, enriched with notes from 
Mr Kinloch's papers, and sent it to me across the water. After Mr Kinloch's death his 
collections were acquired by Harvard College Library, still through the agency of Mr 
Macmath, who has from the beginning rendered a highly valued assistance, not less by his 
suggestions and communications than by his zealous mediation. 

No Scottish ballads are superior in kind to those recited in the last century by Mrs 
Brown, of Falkland. Of these there are, or were, three sets. One formerly owned by 
Robert Jamieson, the fullest of the three, was lent me, to keep as long as I required, by my 
honored friend the late Mr David Laing, who also secured for me copies of several ballads 
of Mrs Brown which are found in an Abbotsford manuscript, and gave me a transcript of 
the Glenriddell manuscript. The two others were written down for William Tytler and 


Alexander Fraser Tytler respectively, the former of these consisting of a portion of the 
Jaraieson texts revised. These having for some time been lost sight of, Miss Mary Fraser 
Tytler, with a graciousness which I have reason to believe hereditary in the name, made 
search for them, recovered the one which had been obtained by Lord Woodhouselee, and 
copied it for me with her own hand. The same lady furnished me with another collection 
which had been made by a member of the family. 

For later transcriptions from Scottish tradition I am indebted to Mr J. F. Campbell of 
Islay, whose edition and rendering of the racy West Highland Tales is marked by the rarest 
appreciation of the popular genius; to Mrs A. F. Murison, formerly of Old Deer, who 
undertook a quest for ballads in her native place on my behalf ; to Mr Alexander Laing, of 
Newburgh-upon-Tay ; to Mr James Gibb, of Joppa, who has given me a full score ; to Mr 
David Louden, of Morham, Haddington ; to the late Dr John Hill Burton and Miss Ella 
Burton ; to Dr Thomas Davidson. 

The late Mr Robert White, of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, allowed me to look through 
his collections in 1873, and subsequently made me a copy of such things as I needed, 
and his ready kindness has been continued by Mrs Andrews, his sister, and by Miss 
Andrews, his niece, who has taken a great deal of trouble on my account. 

In the south of the mother-island my reliance has, of necessity, been chiefly upon 
libraries. The British Museum possesses, besides early copies of some of the older ballads, 
the Percy MS., Herd's MSS and Buchan's, and the Roxburgh broadsides. The library of 
the University of Cambridge affords one or two things of first-rate importance, and for these 
I am beholden to the accomplished librarian, Mr Henry Bradshaw, and to Professor Skeat. 
I have also to thank the Rev. F. Gunton, Dean, and the other authorities of Magdalen 
College, Cambridge, for permitting collations of Pepys ballads, most obligingly made for me 
by Mr Arthur S. B. Miller. Many things were required from the Bodleian library, and 
these were looked out for me, and scrupulously copied or collated, by Mr George Parker. 

Texts of traditional ballads have been communicated to me in America by Mr W. W. 
Newell, of New York, who is soon to give us an interesting collection of Children's Games 
traditional in America; by Dr Huntington, Bishop of Central New York; Mr G. C. Mahon, 
of Ann Arbor, Michigan; Miss Margaret Reburn, of New Albion, Iowa; Miss Perine, of 
Baltimore ; Mrs Augustus Lowell, Mrs L. F. Wesselhoeft, Mrs. Edward Atkinson, of Boston; 
Mrs Cushing, of Cambridge ; Miss Ellen Marston, of New Bedford ; Mrs Monciieff, of 
London, Ontario. 

Acknowledgments not well despatched in a phrase are due to many others who have 
promoted my objects: to Mr Furnivall, for doing for me everything which I could have 
done for myself had I lived in England ; to that master of old songs and music, Mr William 
Chappell, very specially ; to Mr J. Payne Collier ; Mr Nerval Clyne, of Aberdeen ; Mr 
Alexander Young, of Glasgow ; Mr Arthur Laurenson, of Lerwick, Shetland ; Mr J. Burrell 
Curtis, of Edinburgh ; Dr Vigfusson, of Oxford ; Professor Edward Arber, of Birmingham ; 
the Rev. J. Percival, Mr Francis Fry, Mr J. F. NichoUs, of Bristol ; Professor George 
Stephens, of Copenhagen ; Mr R. Bergstrom, of the Royal Library, Stockholm ; Mr W. R. 
S. Ralston, Mr William Henry Husk, Miss Lucy Toulmin Smith, Mr A. F. Murison, of 
London : Professor Sophocles ; Mr W. G. Medlicott, of Longmeadow ; to Mr M. Heilprin, of 
New York, Mme de Maltchyc^, of Boston, and Rabbi Dr Cohn, for indispensable translations 
from Polish and Hungarian ; to Mr James Russell Lowell, Minister of the United States at 
London ; to Professor Charles Eliot Norton, for such " pains and benefits " as I could ask 
only of a life-long friend. 


In the editing of these ballads I have closely followed the plan of Grundtvig's Old 
Popular Ballads of Denmark, a work which will be prized highest by those who have used it 
most, and which leaves nothing to be desired but its completion. The author is as much at 
home in English as in Danish tradition, and whenever he takes up a ballad which is common 
to both nations nothing remains to be done but to supply what has come to light since the 
time of his writing. But besides the assistance which I have derived from his book, I have 
enjoyed the advantage of Professor Grundtvig's criticism and advice, and have received from 
him unprinted Danish texts, and other aid in many ways. 

Such further explanations as to the plan and conduct of the work as may be desirable 
can be more conveniently given by and by. I may say here that textual points which may 
seem to be neglected will be considered in an intended Glossary, with which will be given a 
full account of Sources, and such indexes of Titles and Matters as will make it easy to find 
everything that the book may contain. 

With renewed thanks to all helpers, and helpers' helpers, I would invoke the largest 
cooperation for the correction of errors and the supplying of deficiencies. To forestall 
a misunderstanding which has often occurred, I beg to say that every traditional version of a 
popular ballad is desired, no matter how many texts of the same may have been printed 

F. J. Child. 

[Decembeb, 1882.] 


NUMBERS 29-53 

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 Allardyce, 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 Edinburgh, 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 
liberality, I am indebted for valuable notes, which will be found in the Additions at the end 
of this volume. 

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

Professors D. Silvan Evans, John Rhys, Paul Meyer, and T. Frederick Crane have 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 
friendship, 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 Grundtvig. 

F. J. C. 

Ju»B, 1884. 



Biographical Sketch of Professor Child xvii 

1. Riddles Wisely Expounded 1 

(Additions and Corrections : I, 484 ; 11, 495 ; m, 496 ; IV, 439 ; V, 205, 283.) 

2. The Elfin Knight Q 

(Additions and Corrections : I, 484 ; 11, 495 ; III, 496 ; IV, 439 ; V, 205, 284.) 

3. The Fause Knight upon the Road 20 

(Additions and Corrections : I, 485 ; 11, 496 j III, 496; IV, 440.) 

4. Lady Isabel and the Elf-KnigHt 22 

(Additions and Corrections : I, 485 ; 11, 496 ; DI, 496 ; IV, 440 ; V, 206, 285.) 

6. Gil Bbenton . 62 

(Additions and Corrections : I, 489 ; 11, 498 ; III, 497 ; IV, 442 ; V, 207, 285.) 

6. Willie's Lady 81 

(Additions and Corrections : 11, 498 ; III, 497 ; V, 207, 285.) 

7. Earl Brand 88 

(Additions and Corrections : I, 489 ; 11, 498 ; IH, 497 ; IV, 443 ; V, 207, 285.) 

8. Erlinton 106 

(Additions and Corrections : III, 498 ; IV, 445.) 

9. The Fair Flower of Northumberland Ill 

(Additions and Corrections : I, 493 ; 11, 498 ; III, 499 ; V, 207.) 

10. The Twa Sisters 118 

(Additions and Corrections : I, 493 ; 11, 498 ; III, 499 ; IV, 447 ; V, 208, 286.) 

11. The Cruel Brother 141 

(Additions and Corrections : I, 496 ; 11, 498 ; EI, 499 ; IV, 449 ; V, 208, 286.) 

12. Lord Randal 151 

(Additions and Corrections : I, 498 ; U, 498 ; IH, 499 ; IV, 449 ; V, 208, 286.) 

13. Edward 167 

(Additions and Corrections : I, 501 ; H, 499 ; HI, 499 ; V, 209, 287.) 

14. Babylon; or, The Bonnie Banks o Fordie 170 

(Additions and Corrections : I, 170, 501 ; H, 499 ; LU, 499 ; IV, 450 ; V, 209, 287.) 

15. Leesome Brand 177 

(Additions and Corrections: I, 501 ; H, 499 ; IH, 500; IV, 450; V, 209, 287.) 

16. Sheath and Ejstife . , 185 

(Additions and Corrections: H, 499; IH, 500 ; IV, 450 ; V, 210.) 

17. Hind Horn ^187 

(Additions and CoiTections : I, 502 ; H, 499; IH, 501 ; IV, 450 ; V, 210, 287.) 

18. Sib Lionel 208 

(Additions and Corrections : IT, 500 ; IV, 451.) 

19. King Orfeo 216 

(Additions and Corrections : H, 500; IH, 502; IV, 451 ; V, 211.) 

20. The Cruel Mother 218 

(Additions and Corrections : I, 504 ; U, 500 ; HI, 502 ; IV, 451 ; V, 211, 287.) 


21. The Maid and the Palmer (The Samaritan Woman) 228 

(Additions and Corrections: II, 501 ; III, 502; IV, 451 ; V, 212, 288.) 

22. St. Stephen and Herod 233 

(Additions and Corrections : I, 505 ; H, 501 ; HI, 502 ; IV, 451 ; V, 212, 288.) 

23. Judas 242 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 288.) 

24. Bonnie Annie 244 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 452.) 

26. Willie's Lyke-Wake 247 

(Additions and Corrections : I, 506 ; II, 502 ; III, 503 j IV, 453 ; V, 212, 289.) 

26. The Three Ravens 253 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 454 ; V, 212.) 

27. The Whummil Bore 255 

(Additions and Corrections: V, 212.) 

28. BuRD Ellen and Young Tamlane , . 256 

(Additions and Corrections : I, 507 ; III, 503.) 

29. The Bor and the Mantle , 257 

(Additions and Corrections : I, 507 ; II, 502 ; III, 503 ; IV, 454 ; V, 212, 289.) 

30. King Arthur and King Cornwall 274 

(Additions and Corrections : I, 507 ; 11, 502 ; III, 603 ; V, 289.) 

31. The Marriage of Sir Gawain . 288 

(Additions and Corrections : I, 507; 11, 502 ; IV, 454 ; V, 213, 289.) 

32. King Henry 297 

(Additions and Corrections : II, 502 ; IV, 454 ; V, 289.) 

33. Kempy Kay 300 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 213, 289.) 

34. Kemp Owyne 306 

(Additions and Corrections : 11, 502 ; HI, 504 ; IV, 454 ; V, 213, 290.) 

35. Allison Gross 313 

(Additions and Corrections : III, 504 ; V, 214.) 

36. The Laily Worm and the Machrel of the Sea 315 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 214, 290.) 

37. Thomas Rymer ^ 317 

(Additions and Corrections : 11, 505 ; III, 504 ; IV, 454, 290.) 

38. The Wee Wee Man 329 

39. Tam Lin * .335 

(Additions and Corrections : I, 507 ; II, 505 ; HI, 504; IV, 455 ; V, 215, 290.) 

40. The Queen of Elfan's Nourice 358 

(Additions and Corrections : II, 505 ; III, 505 ; IV, 459 ; V, 215, 290.) 

41. Hind Etin . . . .360 

(Additions and Corrections : I, 508 ; 11, 506 ; HI, 506 ; IV, 459 ; V, 215.) 

42. Clerk Colvill 371 

(Additions and Corrections : 11, 506 ; HI, 506 ; IV, 459 ; V, 215, 290.) 

43. The Broomfield Hill 390 

(Additions and Corrections: I, 508 ; 11, 506 ; HI, 506 ; IV, 459, 290.) 

44. The Twa Magicians 399 

(Additions and Corrections : II, 506; III, 506; IV, 459; V, 216, 290.) 

45. Kino John and the Bishop 403 

(Additions and Corrections : I, 508 ; H, 506 ; IV, 459 ; V, 216, 291.) 


46. Captain Wedderbukn's Courtship 45^4 

(ALdditiona and Corrections : II, 507; III, 507 j IV, 459; V, 216, 291.) 

47. Proud Lady Margaret 425 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 460 ; V, 291.) 

48. Young Andrew 432 

49. The Twa Brothers 435 

(Additions and Corrections : 11, 507 ; III, 507 ; IV, 460; V, 217, 291.) 

60. The Bonny Hind 444 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 218.) 

51. LiziE Wan 447 

52. The King's Dochter Lady Jean 45O 

53. Young Beichan 454 

(Additions and Corrections : 11, 508 ; HI, 507 ; IV, 460 ; V, 218, 291.) 

Additions and Corrections 434 


54. The Cherry-Tree Carol 1 

(Additions and Corrections : 11, 509 ; V, 220.) 

55. The Carnal and the Crane 7 

(Additions and Corrections : II, 509 ; III, 507 ; IV. 462 ; V, 220.) 

56. Dives and Lazarus 10 

(Additions and Corrections : II, 510 ; III, 507 ; IV, 462 ; V, 220, 292.) 

67. Brown Robyn's Confession 13 

(Additions and Corrections : 11, 510 ; III, 508 ; IV, 462 ; V, 220, 292.) 

58. Sir Patrick Spens 17 

(Additions and Corrections: II, 510; V, 220.) 

59. Sir Aldingar 33 

(Additions and Corrections : 11, 510 ; HI, 508 ; IV, 463 ; V, 292.) ' 

60. King Estmere 49 

(Additions and Corrections : 11, 510 ; HI, 508 ; IV, 463.) 

61. Sir Cawline 56 

(Additions and Corrections : IE, 511 ; m, 508 ; IV, 463.) 

62. Fair Annie 63 

(Additions and Corrections : II, 511 ; IV, 463 ; V, 220.) 

63. Child Waters 83 

(Additions and Corrections : H, 511 ; III, 508 ; IV, 463 ; V, 220.) 

64. Fair Janet 100 

(Additions and Corrections: III, 508; IV, 464; V, 222, 292.) 

65. Lady Maisry 112 

(Additions and Corrections : III, 508 ; IV, 466 ; V, 222, 292.) 

66. Lord Ingram and Chiel Wyet 126 

(Additions and Corrections: II, 511 ; UI, 508; V, 223, 292.) 

67. Glasgerion 136 

(Additions and Corrections: H, 511 ; HI, 509 ; IV, 468 ; V, 293.) 

68. Young Hunting 1^ 

(Additions and Corrections: II, 512 ; HI, 509; IV, 468; V, 223.) 

69. Clerk Saunders * 166 

(Additions and Corrections : H, 512 ; HI, 509 ; IV, 468 ; V, 223, 293.) 

70. Willie and Lady Maisry • 167 


71. The Bent Sae Brown 170 

(Additions and Corrections : HI, 509 ; IV, 469 ; V, 223.) 

72. The Clerk's Twa Sons o Owsenford 173 

(Additions and Corrections : H, 512 ; ILL, 509; IV, 469 ; V, 293.) 

73. Lord Thomas and Fair Annet 179 

(Additions and Corrections : II, 512 ; HI, 509 ; IV, 469 ; V, 223, 293.) 

74. Fair Margaret and Sweet "Wllliam 199 

(Additions and Corrections: V, 224, 293.) 

75. Lord Lovel . 204 

(Additions and CoiTections : II, 512 ; IH, 510 ; IV, 471 ; V, 225, 294.) 

76. The Lass of Roch Royal 213 

(Additions and Corrections : IH, 510 ; IV, 471 ; V, 225, 294.) 

77. Sweet William's Ghost 226 

(Additions and Corrections : H, 512 ; IV, 474 ; V, 225, 294.) 

78. The Unquiet Grave 234 

(Additions and Corrections : II, 512 ; IH, 512 ; IV, 474 ; V, 225, 294.) 

79. The Wife of Usher's Well 238 

(Additions and Corrections : III, 513 ; V, 294.) 

80. Old Robin of Portingale . 240 

(Additions and Corrections : H, 513 ; HI, 514 ; IV, 476 ; V, 225, 295.) 

81. Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard ■ . 242 

(Additions and Corrections : II, 513 ; IV, 476 ; V, 225.) 

82. The Bonny Birdy 260 

83. Child Maurice 263 

(Additions and Corrections : HI, 514 ; IV, 478.) 

84. Bonny Barbara Allan 276 

(Additions and Corrections : HI, 514.) 

85. Lady Alice 279 

(Additions and Corrections : HE, 514 ; V, 225.) 

86. Young Benjie . 281 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 478.) 

87. Prince Robert 284 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 295.) 

88. Young Johnstone 288 

89. Fause Foodrage 296 

(Additions and Corrections : IT, 513 ; III, 515 ; IV, 479.) 

90. Jellon Grame 302 

(Additions and Corrections : H, 513 ; LLL, 515 ; IV, 479 ; V, 226, 295.) 

91. Fair Mary of Wallington 309 

(Additions and Corrections : II, 513 ; HI, 515; IV, 479; V, 227.) 

92. BoOTTT Bee Hom 317 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 229.) 

93. Lamkin 320 

(Additions and Corrections : H, 513 ; DI, 515 ; IV, 480 ; V, 229, 295.) 

94. Young Waters 342 

(Additions and Corrections : IH, 516.) 

95. The Maid Freed from the Gallows . . . 346 

(Additions and Corrections : 11, 514 ; IH, 516 ; IV, 481 ; V, 231, 296.) 

96. The Gay Goshawk 356 

(Additions and Corrections : IH, 517 ; IV, 482 ; V, 234, 296.) 


97. Browk Robint 3gg 

98. Brown Adam gyg 

99. JoHNiE Scot 377 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 486 ; V, 234.) 

100. Willie o Winsbury 393 

(Additions and Corrections : 11, 514 ; HE, 517 ; IV, 491 ; V, 296.) 

101. Willie o Douglas Dale 406 

(Additions and Corrections : III, 517 ; V, 235.) 

102. Willie anb Earl Richard's Daughter 412 

(Additions and Corrections : III, 518.) 

103. Rose the Red and White Lily 415 

104. Prince Heathen 424 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 296.) 

105. The Bailiff's Daughter of Islington 426 

(Additions and Corrections : III, 518 ; V, 237.) 

106. The Famous Flower of Serving-Men 428 

(Additions and Corrections : III, 518 ; IV, 492.) 

107. Will Stewart and John 432 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 237.) 

108. Christopher White 439 

109. Tom Potts 441 

(Additions and Corrections : III, 518.) 

110. The Knight and Shepherd's Daughter 457 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 492 j V, 237.) 

111. Crow and Pie 478 

112. The Baffled Knight 479 

(Additions and Corrections : HI, 518 ; IV, 495 ; V, 239, 296.) 

113. The Great Silkie of Sule Skerry 494 

(Additions and Corrections : III, 518 ; IV, 495.) 

Additions and Corrections • • 495 


114. Johnie Cock 1 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 495.) 


116. Adam Bell, Clim of the Clough, and William of Cloudeslt .... 14 

(Additions and Corrections : III, 518 ; IV, 496 ; V, 297.) 

117. A Gest of Robyn Hode 39 

(Additions and Corrections: HI, 519; IV, 496; V, 240, 297.) 

118. Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne 89 

119. Robin Hood and the Monk 94 

120. Robin Hood's Death 102 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 240, 297.) 

121. Robin Hood and the Potter 108 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 497.) 

122. Robin Hood and the Butcher 115 

123. Robin Hood and the Curtal Friar 120 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 297.) 


124. The Jolly Pindeb op "Wakefield . . . . , . . , , , 129 

125. Robin Hood and Little John . , , , 133 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 297.) 

126. Robin Hood and the Tanner 137 

127. Robin Hood and the Tinkeb 140 

128. Robin Hood newly Revived 144 

129. Robin Hood and the Prince of Aragm)n 147 

130. Robin Hood and the Scotchman 160 

131. Robin Hood and the Ranger 152 

132. The Bold Pedlar and Robin Hood 154 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 240.) 

133. Robin Hood and the Beggar, I 155 

134. Robin Hood and the Beggar, II 168 

135. Robin Hood and the Shepherd 165 

136. Robin Hood's Delight 168 

137. Robin Hood and the Pedlars 170 

138. Robin Hood and Allen a Dale 172 

139. Robin Hood's Progress to Nottingham 175 

140. Robin Hood rescuing Three Squires 177 

141. Robin Hood rescuing Will Stutly . 185 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 497.) 

142. Little John a Begging 188 

143. Robin Hood and the Bishop 191 

144. Robin Hood and the Bishop of Hereford 193 

145. Robin Hood and Queen Katherine 196 

146. Robin Hood's Chase 205 

147. Robin Hood's Golden Prize 208 

(Additions and Corrections : III, 519.) 

148. The Noble Fisherman, or, Robin Hood's Preferment 211 

149. Robin Hood's Birth, Breeding, Valor and Marriage 214 

150. Robin Hood and Maid Marian 218 

(Additions and Corrections : III, 519.) 

151. The King's Disguise, and Friendship with Robin Hood 220 

152. Robin Hood and the Golden Arrow 223 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 241.) 

153. Robin Hood and the Valiant Knight ......... 226 

154. A True Tale of Robin Hood 227 

155. Sir Hugh, or, The Jew's Daughter 233 

(Additions and Corrections : UI, 519 ; IV, 497 ; V, 241, 297.) 

156. Queen Eleanor's Confession 257 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 498 ; V, 241, 297.) 

157. GuDE Wallace 265 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 242.) 

158. Hugh Spencer's Feats in France 276 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 499 ; V, 243.) 

159. Durham Field , 282 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 297.) 


160. The Knight of Liddesdai,e 288 

161. The Battle of Otterburn 289 

(Additions and Corrections : III, 520 ; IV, 499 ; V, 243, 297.) 

162. The Hunting of the Cheviot 303 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 502 ; V, 244, 297.) 

163. The Battle of Harlaw 316 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 245.) 

164. King Henry Fifth's Conquest of France 320 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 245.) 

165. Sir John Butler 327 

166. The Rose of England 331 

167. Sir Andrew Barton 334 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 502; V, 245.) 

168. Flodden Field 351 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 507 ; V, 298.) 

169. JoHNiE Armstrong 362 

(Additions and Corrections: III, 520; IV, 507 ; V, 298.) 

170. The Death of Queen Jane 372 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 245, 298.) 

171. Thomas Cromwell 377 

172. Musselburgh Field . . 378 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 507.) 

173. Mary Hamilton 379 

(Additions and Corrections: IV, 507; V, 246, 298.) 

174. Earl Bothwell 399 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 247.) 

175. The Rising in the North 401 

176. Northumberland betrayed by Douglas 408 

(Aidditions and Corrections : V, 299.) 

177. The Earl of Westmoreland . . . 416 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 299.) 

178. Captain Car, or, Edom o Gordon 423 

(Additions and Corrections : III, 520 ; IV, 513 ; V, 247, 299.) 

179. RooKHOPE Ryde 439 

180. King Jambs and Brown 442 

181. The Bonny Earl of Murray 447 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 515.) 

182. The Laird o Logib ^9 

(Additions and Corrections : m, 520; IV, 515; V, 299.) 

183. Willie Macintosh ^6 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 516.) 

184. The Lads of Wamphray *68 

(Additions and Corrections : HI, 520.) 

185. Dick o the Cow ^^ 

186. KiNMONT Willie ^^ 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 516.) 

187. Jock o the Side ^'^ 

188. Archie o Cawfield ^=°* 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 516.) 

Additions and Corrections ^^" 

VOL. I. c 



189. HoBiE Noble 1 

190. Jamie Telfer of the Fair Dodhead 4 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 518; V, 249, 300.) 

191. Hughie Grame 8 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 518; V, 300.) 

192. The Lochmaben Harper 16 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 300.) 

193. The Death of Parcy Reed . 24 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 520.) 

194. The Laird of Wariston 28 

195. Lord Maxwell's Last Goodnight 34 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 251.) 

196. The Fire of Frendraught 39 

(Additions and Corrections: IV, 521 ; V, 251, 301.) 

197. James Grant 49 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 251.) 

198. BoNNT John Seton 61 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 251.) 

199. The Bonnie House o Airlie 54 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 252.) 

200. The Gypsy Laddie 61 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 522 ; V, 252, 301.) 

201. Bessy Bell and Mary Gray 76 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 522 ; V, 253.) 

202. The Battle of Philiphaugh 77 

203. The Baron of Brackley .79 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 522 ; V, 253.) 

204. Jamie Douglas 90 

205. Loudon Hill, or, Drumclog 105 

206. BoTHWELL Bridge 108 

207. Lord Delamere 110 

208. Lord Derwentwater 116 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 522 ; V, 254.) 

209. Geordie 123 

210. Bonnie James Campbell 142 

211. Bewick and Graham 144 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 522.) 

212. The Duke of Athole's Nurse 150 

213. Sir James the Rose 156 

214. The Braes o Yarrow 160 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 522 ; V, 255.) 

215. Rare Willie Drowned in Yarrow, or. The Water o Gamrib .... 178 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 256.) 

216. The Mother's Malison, or, Clyde's Water 185 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 256, 301.) 

217. The Broom of Cowdenknows 191 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 523 ; V, 257.) 

218. The False Loyeb won back , 209 


219. The Gardener 2io 

(Additions and Correctiotis : V, 258.) 

220. The Bonny Lass of Anglesey 014. 

221. Katharine Jaffray 01 fi 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 523 ; V, 260.) 

222. Bonny Baby Livingston 031 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 523 ; V, 261.) 

223. Eppee Morrie ^ 039 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 262.) 

224. The Lady of Arngosk . . . . ; 241 

225. Rob Roy 243 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 523 ; V, 262.) 

226. LiziE Lindsay 255 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 524 ; V, 264.) 

227. Bonny Lizie Baillie ............. 266 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 265.) 

228. Glasgow Peggie • ^ 270 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 266.) 

229. Earl Crawford 276 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 301.) 

230. The Slaughter of the Laird of Mellerstain 281 

231. The Earl of Errol 282 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 267.) 

232. Richie Story 291 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 270.) 

233. Andrew Lammie 300 

234. Charlie MacPherson 308 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 301.) 

235. The Earl of Aboyne 311 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 270, 301.) 

236. The Laird o Drum 322 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 272,) 

237. The Duke of Gordon's Daughter 332 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 273.) 

238. Glenlogie, or, Jean o Bethelnie 338 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 273, 302.) 

239. Lord Saltoun and Auchanachie 347 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 273.) 

240. The Rantin Laddie 351 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 274.) 

241. The Baron o Leys 365 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 275.) 

242. The Coble o Cargill 358 

243. James Harris (The D^mon Lover) 360 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 524.) 

244. James Hatley 370 

245. Young Allan 375 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 275.) 

246. Redesdale and Wise "William 383 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 276.) 



247. Lady Elspat 387 

248. The Grey Cock, ob, Saw you my Fathbb ? 389 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 302.) 

249. AuLD Matrons 391 

250. Henry Martyn 393 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 302.) 

251. Lang Johnny More 396 

(Additions and Corrections : IV, 524.) 

252. The Kitchie-Boy 400 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 277.) 

253. Thomas o Yonderdale 409 

254. Lord William, or, Lord Lundy 411 

255. Willie's Fatal Visit 416 

256. Alison and Willie 416 

257. BuRD Isabel and Earl Patrick 417 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 278.) 

258. Broughty Wa's 423 

259. Lord Thomas Stuart 425 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 279.) 

260. Lord Thomas and Lady Margaret 426 

261. Lady Isabel 429 

262. Lord Livingston 431 

263. The New-Slain Knight ... . . 434 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 279.) 

264. The White Fisher ........ .... 435 

265. The Knight's Ghost .437 

Additions and Corrections 439 


266. John Thomson and the Turk 1 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 279.) 

267. The Heir of Linne 11 

268. The Twa Knights 21 

269. Lady Diamond 29 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 303.) 

270. The Earl of Mar's Daughter 38 

271. The Lord of Lorn and the False Steward 42 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 280.) 

272. The Suffolk Miracle 58 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 303.) 

273. King Edward the Fourth and a Tanner of Tamworth 67 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 303.) 

274. Our Goodman 88 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 281, 303.) 

275. Get up and bar the Door 96 

(Additions and Corrections: V, 281, 304.) 

276. The Fbl^ in the Well 100 


277. The Wife Wrapt ln- Wetheb's Skin 104 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 304.) 

278. The Farmer's Curst Wife 107 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 305.) 

279. The Jolly Beggar 109 

280. The Beggar-Laddie 116 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 305.) 

281. The Keach i the Creel 121 

282. Jock the Leg and the Merry Merchant 126 

283. The Crafty Farmer 128 

284. John Dory 131 

285. The George Aloe and the Sweepstake 133 

286. The Sweet Trinity (The Golden Vanity) 135 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 305.) 

287. Captain Ward and the Rainbow 143 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 305.) 

288. The Young Earl op Essex's Victory over the Emperor of Germany . . . 146 

289. The Mermaid 148 

290. The Wylie Wife op the Hie Toun Hie 153 

291. Child Owlet 156 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 305.) 

292. The West-Country Damosel's Complaint 157 

293. John of Hazelgreen 159 

294. DuGALL QuiN 165 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 305.) 

295. The Brown Girl 166 

296. Walter Lesly 168 

297. Earl Rothes 170 

298. Young Peggy 171 

299. Trooper and Maid 172 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 306.) 

300. Blancheflour and Jellyflorice 175 

301. The Queen of Scotland ' • 176 

302. Young Bearwell 178 

303. The Holy Nunnery 179 

304. Young Ronald , . 181 

305. The Outlaw Murray 1^ 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 307.) 

Fragments ^"•*- 

(Additions and Corrections : V, 307.) 

Additions and Corrections 205, 283 

Glossary ^^ 

Sources of the Texts ^^' 

Ls^DEX OF Published Airs *"** 

Ballad Airs from Manuscript; 

3. The Pause Knight upon the Road ^^^ 

9. The Fair Flower of Northumberland ^^^ 

10. The Twa Sisters ^^^ 


11. The Cruel Brother 412 

12. Lord Randal 412 

17. Hind Horn 413 

20. The Cruel Mother 413 

40. The Queen of Elfan's Nourice 413 

42. Clerk Colvill 414 

46. Captain Wedderburn's Courtship 414 

47. Proud Lady Margaret 414 

53. Young Beichan 415 

58. Sir Patrick Spens 416 

61. Sii- Colin 416 

63. ChUd Waters 416 

68. Young Hunting 416 

76. Lord Lovel 416 

77. Sweet William's Ghost 416 

84. Bonny Barbara Allan 416 

89. Fause Foodrage 416 

95. The Maid freed from the Gallows 417 

97. Brown Robin 417 

98. Brown Adam 417 

99. Johnie Scot . 418 

100. Willie o Winsbury 418 

106. The Famous Flower of Serving-Men .......... 418 

144. Johnie Cock 419 

157. Gude Wallace 419 

161. The Battle of Otterbum . 419 

163. The Battle of Harlaw 419 

164. King Henry Fifth's Conquest of France 420 

169. Johnie Armstrong ............. 420 

173. Mary Hamilton 421 

182. The Laird o Logie 421 

222. Bonny Baby Livingston . . . . . . . . . . . . 421 

226. Lizie Lindsay . . . ' 421 

228. Glasgow Peggie 422 

235. The Earl of Aboyne 422 

247. LadyElspat 422 

250. Andrew Bartin 423 

256. Alison and WiUie 423 

258. Broughty Wa's 423 

278. The Farmer's Curst Wife 423 

281. The Keach i the Creel 424 

286. The Sweet Trinity 424 

299. Trooper and Maid 424 

Index of Ballad Titles 426 

Titles of Collections of Ballads, or Books containing Ballads, which abe vert briefly 

CITED in this work 465 

Index of Matters and Literature 469 

Bibliography 603 

Corrections to be made in the Print • 567 


Feancis James Child was born in Boston 
on the first day of February, 1825. He was 
the third in a family of eight children. His 
father was a sailmaker, " one of that class of 
intelligent and independent mechanics," writes 
Professor Norton, "which has had a large 
share in determining the character of our 
democratic community, as of old the same 
class had in Athens and in Florence." The 
boy attended the public schools, as a matter of 
course ; and, his parents having no thought of 
sending him to college, he went, in due time, 
not to the Latin School, but to the English 
High School of his native town. At that 
time the head master of the Boston Latin 
School was Mr Epes Sargent Dixwell, who is 
still living, at a ripe old age, one of the most 
respected citizens of Cambridge. Mr Dix- 
well had a keen eye for scholarly possibilities 
in boys, and, falling in with young Francis 
Child, was immediately struck with his ex- 
traordinary mental ability. At his sugges- 
tion, the boy was transferred to the Latin 
School, where he entered upon the regular 
preparation for admission to Harvard Col- 
lege. His delight in his new studies was un- 
bounded, and the freshness of it never faded 
from his memory. " He speedily caught up 
with the boys who had already made consid- 
erable progress in Greek and Latin, and soon 
took the first place here, as he had done in 
the schools which he had previously attended." 
Mr Dixwell strongly advised his father to 
permit him to continue his studies, and made 
arrangements by which his college expenses 
should be provided for. The money Profes- 
sor Child repaid, with interest, as soon as his 
means allowed. His gratitude to Mr. Dix- 
well and the friendship between them lasted 
through his life. 

In 1842 Mr Child entered Harvard College. 
The intellectual condition of the college at 
that time and the undergraduate career of 
Mr Child have been admirably described by 
his classmate and lifelong friend, Professor 
Norton, in a passage which must be quoted 
infulli: — 

"Harvard was then still a comparatively 
small institution, with no claims to the title 
of University ; but she had her traditions of 
good learning as an inspiration for the studious 
youth, and still better she had teachers who 
were examples of devotion to intellectual pur- 
suits, and who cared for those ends the at- 
tainment of which makes life worth living. 
Josiah Quincy was approaching the close of 
his term of service as President of the Col- 
lege, and stood before the eyes of the students 
as the type of a great public servant, embody- 
ing the spirit of patriotism, of integrity, and 
of fidelity in the discharge of whatever duty 
he might be called to perform. Among the 
Professors were Walker, Felton, Peirce, Chan- 
ning. Beck, and Longfellow, men of utmost 
variety of temperament, but each an instructor 
who secured the respect no less than the grati- 
tude of his pupils. 

" The class to which Child belonged num- 
bered hardly over sixty. The prescribed 
course of study which was then the rule 
brought all the members of the class together 
in recitations and lectures, and every man 
soon knew the relative standing of each of his 
fellows. Child at once took the lead and kept 
it. His excellence was not confined to any 

1 C.E. Norton, ' Francis James Child,' in the Proceedings 
of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, XXXII, 
334, 335 ; reprinted, with some additions, in the Harvard 
Graduates' Magazine, VI, 161-169 (Boston, 1897). I have 
used this biographical sketch freely in my brief account of 
Professor Child's boyhood. 



one special branch of study ; he was equally 
superior in all. He was the best in the clas- 
sics, he was Peirce's favorite in mathematics, 
he wrote better English than any of his class- 
mates. His intellectual interests were wider 
than theirs, he was a great reader, and his 
tastes in reading were mature. He read for 
amusement as well as for learning, but he did 
not waste his time or dissipate his mental 
energies over worthless or pernicious books. 
He made good use of the social no less than 
of the intellectual opportunities which college 
life affords, and became as great a favorite 
with his classmates as he had been with his 

" The close of his college course was marked 
by the exceptional distinction of his being 
chosen by his classmates as their Orator, and 
by his having the first part at Commencement 
as the highest scholar in the class. His class 
oration was remarkable for its maturity of 
thought and of style. Its manliness of spirit, 
its simple directness of presentation of the 
true objects of life, and of the motives by 
which the educated man, whatever might be 
his chosen career, should be inspired, together 
with the serious and eloquent earnestness with 
which it was delivered, gave to his discourse 
peculiar impressiveness and effect." 

Graduating with the degree of Bachelor of 
Arts in 1846, Mr Child immediately entered 
the service of the college, in which he con- 
tinued till the day of his death. From 1846 
to 1848 he was tutor in mathematics. In 
1848 he was transferred, at his own request, 
to a tutorship in history and political eco- 
nomy, to which were annexed certain duties 
of instruction in English. In 1849 he ob- 
tained leave of absence for travel and study 
in Europe. He remained in Europe for about 
two years, returning, late in 1851, to receive 
an appointment to the Boylstou Professorship 
of Rhetoric and Oratory, then falling vacant 
by the resignation of Professor Edward T. 

The tutorships which Mr Child had held 
were not entirely in accordance with his 
tastes, which had always led him in the direc- 
tion of literary and linguistic study. The 

faculty of the college was small, however, 
and it was not always possible to assign an 
instructor to the department that would have 
been most to his mind. But the governors 
of the institution were glad to secure the 
services of so promising a scholar ; and Mr 
Child, whose preference for an academic ca- 
reer was decided, had felt that it was wise 
to accept such positions as the college could 
offer, leaving exacter adjustments to time and 
circumstances. Meantime he had devoted his 
whole leisure to the pursuit of his favorite 
studies. His first fruits were a volume en- 
titled Four Old Plays,! published in 1848, 
when he was but twenty-three years old. 
This was a remarkably competent perform- 
ance. The texts are edited with judgment 
and accuracy ; the introduction shows literary 
discrimination as well as sound scholarship, 
and the glossary and brief notes are thor- 
oughly good. There are no signs of imma- 
turity in the book, and it is still valued by 
students of our early drama. 

The leave of absence granted to Mr Child 
in 1849 came at a most favorable moment. 
His health had suffered from close application 
to work, and a change of climate had been 
advised by his physicians. His intellectual 
and scholarly development, too, had reached 
that stage in which foreign study and travel 
were certain to be most stimulating and fruit- 
ful. He was amazingly apt, and two years 
of opportunity meant much more to him than 
to most men. He returned to take up the 
duties of his new office a trained and mature 
scholar, at home in the best methods and tra- 
ditions of German universities, yet with no 
sacrifice of his individuality and intellectual 

While in Germany Mr Child studied at 
Berlin and Gottingen, giving his time mostly 

1 Four Old Plays | Three Interludes : Thersytes Jack 
Jugler I and Hey woods Pardoner and Frere : | and Jocasta a 
Tragedy | by Gascoigne and | Kinwelmarsh | with an | 
Introduction and Notes | Cambridge | George Nichols j 
MDCCCXLVIII. The editor's name does not appear in 
the title-page, but the Preface is signed with the initials 
F. J. C. Jocasta was printed from Steevens's copy of the 
first edition of Gascoigne's Posies, which had come into Mr 
Child's possession. 



to Germanic philology, then cultivated with 
extraordinary vigor and success. The hour 
was singularly propitious. In the three or 
four decades preceding Mr Child's residence 
in Europe, Germanic philology (in the wider 
sense) had passed from the stage of "ro- 
mantic" dilettantism into the condition of a 
well-organized and strenuous scientific disci- 
pline, but the freshness and vivacity of the 
first half of the century had not vanished. 
Scholars, however severe, looked through the 
form and strove to comprehend the spirit. 
The ideals of erudition and of a large hu- 
manity were not even suspected of incompati- 
bility. The imagination was still invoked as 
the guide and illuminator of learning. The 
bond between antiquity and medisevalism and 
between the Middle Ages and our own century 
was never lost from sight. It was certainly 
fortunate for American scholarship that at 
precisely this juncture a young man of Mr 
Child's ardent love of learning, strong individ- 
uality, and broad intellectual sympathies was 
brought into close contact with all that was 
most quickening in German university life. 
He attended lectures on classical antiquity 
and philosophy, as well as on Germanic phi- 
lology ; but it was not so much by direct in- 
struction that he profited as by the inspiration 
which he derived from the spirit and the ideals 
of foreign scholars, young and old. His own 
greatest contribution to learning, The Eng- 
lish and Scottish Popular Ballads, may even, 
in a very real sense, be regarded as the fruit 
of these years in Germany. Throughout his 
life he kept a picture of William and James 
Grimm on the mantel over his study fire- 

Mr Child wrote no "dissertation," and 
returned to Cambridge without having at- 
tempted to secure a doctor's degree. Never 
eager for such distinctions, he had been un- 
willing to subject himself to the restrictions 
on his plan of study which candidacy for the 
doctorate would have imposed. Three years 
after, however, in 1854, he was surprised and 
gratified to receive from the University of 
Gottingen the degree of Doctor of Philosophy, 
* accompanied by a special tribute of respect 

from that institution. Subsequently he re- 
ceived the degree of LL. D. from Harvard (in 
1884) and that of L. H. D. from Columbia 
(in 1887) ; but the Gottingen Ph. D., coming 
as it did at the outset of his career, was in a 
high degree auspicious. 

The Boylston Professorship of Rhetoric and 
Oratory, to which, as has been already men- 
tioned, Mr Child succeeded on his return to 
America toward the end of 1851, was no sine- 
cure. In addition to academic instruction of 
the ordinary kind, the duties of the chair in- 
cluded the superintendence and criticism of a 
great quantity of written work, in the nature 
of essays and set compositions prepared by 
students of all degrees of ability. For twenty- 
five years Mr Child performed these duties 
with characteristic punctuality and devotion, 
though with increasing distaste for the 
drudgery which they involved. Meantime a 
great change had come over Harvard : it had 
developed from a provincial college into a 
national seminary of learning, and the intro- 
duction of the " elective system " — corre- 
sponding to the " Lernfreiheit " of Germany 
— had enabled it to become a university in 
the proper sense of the word. One result 
of the important reform just referred to was 
the establishment of a Professorship of Eng- 
lish, entirely distinct from the old chair of 
Rhetoric. This took place on May 8, 1876, 
and on the 20th of the next month Mr Child 
was transferred to the new professorship. His 
duties as an instructor were now thoroughly 
congenial, and he continued to perform them 
with unabated vigor to the end. In the oner- 
ous details of administrative and advisory 
work, inseparable, according to our exacting 
American system, from the position of a uni- 
versity professor, he was equally faithful and 
untiring. For thirty years he acted as secre- 
tary of the Library Council, and in all that 
time he was absent from but three meetings. 
As chairman of the Department of English 
and of the Division of Modern Languages, and 
as a member of many important committees, 
he was ever prodigal of time and effort. How 
steadily he attended to the regular duties of 
the class-room, his pupils, for fifty years, are 

VOIi. I. 



the best witnesses. They, too, will best un- 
derstand the satisfaction he felt that, in the 
fiftieth year of his teaching, he was not ab- 
sent from a single lecture. No man was ever 
less a formalist ; yet the most formal of na- 
tures could not, in the strictest observance of 
punctilio, have surpassed the regularity with 
which he discharged, as it were spontaneously, 
the multifarious duties of his position. 

Throughout his service as professor of rhe- 
toric, Mr Child, hampered though he was by 
the requirements of his laborious office, had 
pursued with unquenchable ardor the study of 
the English language and literature, particu- 
larly in their older forms, and in these sub- 
jects he had become an authority of the first 
rank long before the establishment of the 
English chair enabled him to arrange his uni- 
versity teaching in accordance with his tastes. 
Soon after he returned from Germany he un- 
dertook the general editorial supervision of 
a series of the ' British Poets,' published at 
Boston in 1853 and several following years, 
and extending to some hundred and fifty vol- 
umes. Out of this grew, in one way or an- 
other, his three most important contributions 
to learning: his edition of Spenser, his Ob- 
servations on the Language of Chaucer and 
Gower, and his English and Scottish Popular 

Mr Child's Spenser appeared in 1855.^ 
Originally intended, as he says in the pre- 
face, as little more than a reprint of the 
edition published in 1839 under the superin- 
tendence of Mr George Hillard, the book grew 
upon his hands until it had become something 
quite different from its predecessor. Securing 
access to old copies of most of Spenser's poems, 
Mr Child subjected the text to a careful re- 
vision, which left little to be done in this 
regard. His Life of Spenser was far better 
than any previous biography, and his notes, 
though brief, were marked by a philological 
exactness to which former editions could not 
pretend. Altogether, though meant for the 

1 The Poetical Works of Edmund Spenser. The text 
carefully revised, and illustrated with notes, original and 
selected, by Francis J. Child. Boston : Little, Brown, and 
Company. 1855. 5 vols. 

general reader and therefore sparingly an- 
notated, Mr Child's volumes remain, after 
forty years, the best edition of Spenser in 

The plan of the ' British Poets ' originally 
contemplated an edition of Chaucer, which 
Mr Child was to prepare. Becoming con- 
vinced, however, that the time was not ripe 
for such a work, he abandoned this project, 
and to the end of his life he never found 
time to resume it. Thomas Wright's print 
of the Canterbury Tales from the Harleian 
MS. 7334 had, however, put into his hands 
a reasonably faithful reproduction of an 
old text, and he turned his attention to a 
minute study of Chaucer's language. The 
outcome was the publication, in the Me- 
moirs of the American Academy of Arts and 
Sciences for 1863, of the great treatise to 
which Mr Child gave the modest title of 
Observations on the Language of Chaucer's 
Canterbury Tales. It is difficult, at the pre- 
sent day, to imagine the state of Chaucer 
philology at the moment when this paper ap- 
peared. Scarcely anything, we may say, was 
known of Chaucer's grammar and metre in a 
sure and scientific way. Indeed, the difficul- 
ties to be solved had not even been clearly 
formulated. Further, the accessible mass of 
evidence on Anglo-Saxon and Middle English 
was, in comparison with the stores now at 
the easy command of every tyro, almost in- 
significant. Yet, in this brief treatise, Mr 
Child not only defined the problems, but 
provided for most of them a solution which 
the researches of younger scholars have only 
served to substantiate. He also gave a 
perfect model of the method proper to such 
inquiries — a method simple, laborious, and 
exact. The Observations were subsequently 
rearranged and condensed, with Professor 
Child's permission, by Mr A. J. Ellis for his 
work On Early English Pronunciation ; but 
only those who have studied them in their 
original form can appreciate their merit fully. 
" It ought never to be forgotten," writes Pro- 

2 The Canterbury Tales of Geoffrey Chaucer. A new 
text, with illustrative notes. Edited by Thomas Wright. 
London, printed for the Percy Society, 1847-51. 3 vols. 



feasor Skeat, " that the only full and almost 
complete solution of the question of the right 
scansion of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales is due 
to what Mr Ellis rightly terms ' the wonder- 
ful industry, acuteness, and accuracy of Pro- 
fessor Child.'" Had he produced nothing 
else, this work, with its pendant, the Observa- 
tions on Gower,! would have assured him a 
high place among those very few scholars who 
have permanently settled important problems 
of linguistic science. 

Mr Child's crowning work, however, was 
the edition of the English and Scottish Popu- 
lar Ballads, which the reader now has before 
him. The history of this is the history of 
more than half a lifetime. 

The idea of the present work grew out of 
Mr Child's editorial labors on the series of 
the ' British Poets,' already referred to. For 
this he prepared a collection in eight small 
volumes (1857-58) called English and Scot- 
tish Ballads.2 This was marked by the be- 
ginnings of that method of comparative study 
which is carried out to its ultimate issues in 
the volumes of the present collection. The 
book circulated widely, and was at once ad- 
mitted to supersede all previous attempts in 
the same field. To Mr Child, however, it was 
but the starting-point for further researches. 
He soon formed the plan of a much more ex- 
tensive collection on an altogether different 
model. This was to include every obtainable 
version of every extant English or Scottish 
ballad, with the fullest possible discussion of 
related songs or stories in the " popular " lit- 
erature of all nations. To this enterprise he 
resolved, if need were, to devote the rest of 

1 The paper entitled Observations on the Language of 
Chaucer was laid before the American Academy of Arts and 
Sciences on June 3, 1 862, and was published in the Memoirs 
of the Academy, Vol. VIII, pt. ii, 445-502 (Boston, 1863). 
The second paper, entitled Observations on the Language 
of Gower's Confessio Amantis, was laid before the Acad- 
emy on January 9, 1866, and appeared in Memoirs, IX, ii, 
265-315 (Boston, 1873). A few copies of each paper were 
struck off separately, but these are now very hard to find. 
Mr Ellis's rearrangement and amalgamation of the two 
papers, which is by no means a good substitute for the 
papers themselves, may be found in Part I of his Early 
English Pronunciation, London, 1869, pp. 343-97. 

2 English and Scottish Ballads. Selected and edited by 
Francis James Child. Boston, 1857-58. 

his life. His first care was to secure trust- 
worthy texts. In his earlier collection he 
had been forced to depend almost entirely on 
printed books. No progress, he was con- 
vinced, could be made till recourse could be 
had to manuscripts, and in particular to the 
Percy MS. Accordingly he directed his most 
earnest efforts to securing the publication of 
the entire contents of the famous folio. The 
Percy MS. was at Ecton Hall, in the posses- 
sion of the Bishop's descendants, who would 
permit no one even to examine it. Two at- 
tempts were made by Dr Furnivall, at Mr 
Child's instance, to induce the owners to al- 
low the manuscript to be printed, — one as 
early as 1860 or 1861, the other in 1864, — 
but without avail. A third attempt was 
more successful, and in 1867-68 the long- 
secluded folio was made the common property 
of scholars in an edition prepared by Profes- 
sor Hales and Dr Furnivall.^ 

The publication of the Percy MS. not only 
put a large amount of trustworthy material 
at the disposal of Mr Child; it exposed the 
full enormity of Bishop Percy's sins against 
popular tradition. Some shadow of suspicion 
inevitably fell on all other ballad collections. 
It was more than ever clear to Mr Child that 
he could not safely take anything at second 
hand, and he determined not to print a line of 
his pi'ojected work till he had exhausted every 
effort to get hold of whatever manuscript 
material might be in existence. His efforts 
in this direction continued through many 
years. A number of manuscripts were in 
private hands ; of some the whereabouts was 
not known ; of others the existence was not 
suspected. But Mr Child was untiring. He 
was cordially assisted by various scholars, an- 
tiquaries, and private gentlemen, to whose 
cooperation ample testimony is borne in the 
Advertisements prefixed to the volumes in the 
present work. Some manuscripts were secured 

8 How inseparable were the services of Dr Furnivall and 
those of Professor Child in securing this devoutly wished 
consummation may be seen by comparing Dr Fumivall's 
Forewords (I, ix, x), in which he gives much of the credit 
to Mr Child, with Mr Child's Dedication (in vol. I of the 
present collection), in which he gives the credit to Dr Fur- 



for the Library of Harvard University — no- 
tably Bishop Percy's Papers, the Kinloch 
MSS, and the Harris MS.,i — and of others 
careful copies were made, which became the 
property of the same library. In all these 
operations the indispensable good offices of 
Mr William Macmath, of Edinburgh, deserve 
particular mention. For a long series of years 
his services were always at Mr Child's dis- 
posal. His self-sacrifice and generosity appear 
to have been equalled only by his persever- 
ance and wonderful accuracy. But for him 
the manuscript basis of The English and 
Scottish Popular Ballads would have been 
far less strong than it is. 

Gradually, then, the manuscript materials 
came in, until at last, in 1882, Mr Child felt 
justified in beginning to print. Other impor- 
tant documents were, however, discovered or 
made accessible as time went on. Especially 
noteworthy was the great find at Abbotsford 
(see the Advertisement to Part VIH). In 
1877 Dr David Laing procured, " not without 
difficulty," leave to prepare for Mr Child a 
copy of the single manuscript of ballads then 
known to remain in the library at Abbotsford. 
This MS., entitled " Scottish Songs," was so 
inconsiderable, in proportion to the accumu- 
lations which Sir Walter Scott had made in 
preparing his Border Minstrelsy, that further 
search seemed to be imperatively necessary. 
In 1890 permission to make such a search, and 
to use the results, was given by the Honorable 
Mrs Maxwell-Scott. The investigation, made 
by Mr Macmath, yielded a rich harvest of 
ballads, which were utilized in Parts VII-IX. 
To dwell upon the details would be endless. 
The reader may see a list of the manuscript 
sources at pp. 397 ff. of the fifth volume ; and, 
if he will observe how scattered they were, he 
will have no difficulty in believing that it re- 
quired years, labor, and much delicate nego- 
tiation to bring them all together. One 
manuscript remained undiscoverable, Wil- 
liam Tytler's Brown MS., but there is no 

^ Since Mr Child's death the important " Buchan original 
MS " has been secared for the Child Memorial Library of 
the University, — a collection endowed by friends and pupils 
of the dead master. 

reason to believe that this contained anything 
of consequence that is not otherwise known. ^ 

Meanwhile, concurrently with the toil of 
amassing, collating, and arranging texts, 
went on the far more arduous labor of com- 
parative study of the ballads of all nations; 
for, in accordance with Mr Child's plan it was 
requisite to determine, in the fullest manner, 
the history and foreign relations of every 
piece included in his collection. To this end 
he devoted much time and unwearied dili- 
gence to forming, in the Library of the Uni- 
versity, a special collection of "Folk-lore," par- 
ticularly of ballads, romances, and Marchen. 
This priceless collection, the formation of 
which must be looked on as one of Mr 
Child's most striking services to the univer- 
sity, numbers some 7000 volumes. But these 
figures by no means represent the richness of 
the Library in the departments concerned, or 
the services of Mr Child in this particular. 
Mediaeval literature in all its phases was his 
province, and thousands of volumes classified 
in other departments of the University Li- 
brary bear testimony to his vigilance in order- 
ing books, and his astonishing bibliographical 
knowledge. Very few books are cited in the 
present collection which are not to be found 
on the shelves of this Library. 

In addition, Mr Child made an effort to 
stimulate the collection of such remains of the 
traditional ballad as still live on the lips of 
the people in this country and in the British 
Islands. The harvest was, in his opinion, 
rather scanty ; yet, if all the versions thus re- 
covered from tradition were enumerated, the 
number would not be found inconsiderable. 
Enough was done, at all events, to make it 
clear that little or nothing of value remains 
to be recovered in this way. 

To readers familiar with such studies, no 
comment is necessary, and to those who are 
unfamiliar with them, no form of statement 
can convey even a faint impression of the 
industry, the learning, the acumen, and the 
literary skill which these processes required. 
In writing the history of a single ballad, 
Mr Child was sometimes forced to examine 
2 See V, 397 b. 



hundreds of books in perhaps a dozen different 
languages. But his industry was unflagging, 
his sagacity was scarcely ever at fault, and his 
linguistic and literary knowledge seemed to 
have no bounds. He spared no pains to per- 
fect his work in every detail, and his success 
was commensurate with his efforts. In the 
Advertisement to the Ninth Part (1894), he 
was able to report that the three hundred and 
five numbers of his collection comprised the 
whole extant mass of this traditional material, 
with the possible exception of a single ballad.^ 
In June, 1896, Mr Child concluded his 
fiftieth year of service as a teacher in Harvard 
College. He was at this time hard at work 
on the Tenth and final Part, which was to 
contain a glossary, various indexes, a biblio- 
graphy, and an elaborate introduction on the 
general subject. For years he had allowed 
himself scarcely any respite from work, and, 
in spite of the uncertain condition of his 
health, — or perhaps in consequence of it, — 
he continued to work at high pressure through- 
out the summer. At the end of August he 
discovered that he was seriously ill. He died 
at Boston on the 11th day of September. He 
had finished his great work except for the 
introduction and the general bibliography. 
The bibliography was in preparation by an- 
other hand and has since been completed. 
The introduction, however, no other scholar 
had the hardihood to undertake. A few 
pages of manuscript, — the last thing writ- 
ten by his pen, — almost illegible, were found 
among his papers to show that he had actually 
begun the composition of this essay, and many 
sheets of excerpts testified to the time he had 
spent in refreshing his memory as to the opin- 
ions of his predecessors, but he had left no 
collectanea that could be utilized in supplying 
the Introduction itself. He was accustomed 
to carry much of his material in his memory 
till the moment of composition arrived, and 
this habit accounts for the fact that there are 
no jottings of opinions and no sketch of pre- 

1 This is ' Young Betrice,' No 5 in "William Tytler's 
lost Brown MS. (V, 397), which "may possibly be a version 
of ' Hugh Spencer's Feats in France ' " (see II, 377 ; JH, 

cisely what line of argument he intended to 

Mr Child's sudden death was felt as a bit- 
ter personal loss, not only by an unusually 
large circle of attached friends in both hemi- 
spheres, but by very many scholars who knew 
him through his works alone. He was one of 
the few learned men to whom the old title of 
" Master " was justly due and freely accorded. 
With astonishing erudition, which nothing 
seemed to have escaped, he united an infec- 
tious enthusiasm and a power of lucid and 
fruitful exposition that made him one of the 
greatest of teachers, and a warmth and open- 
ness of heart that won the affection of all who 
knew him. In most men, however complex 
their characters, one can distinguish the quali- 
ties of the heart, in some degree, from the 
qualities of the head. In Professor Child no 
such distinction was possible, for all the ele- 
ments of his many-sided nature were fused in 
his marked and powerful individuality. In 
his case, the scholar and the man cannot be 
separated. His life and his learning were one ; 
his work was the expression of himself. 

As an investigator Professor Child was at 
once the inspiration and the despair of his dis- 
ciples. Nothing could surpass the scientific 
exactness of his methods and the unwearied 
diligence with which he conducted his re- 
searches. No possible source of information 
could elude him ; no book or manuscript was 
too voluminous or too unpromising for him to 
examine on the chance of its containing some 
fact that might correct or supplement his 
material, even in the minutest point. Yet 
these qualities of enthusiastic accuracy and 
thoroughness, admirable as they undoubtedly 
were, by no means dominated him. They 
were always at the command of the higher 
qualities of his genius, — sagacity, acumen, 
and a kind of sympathetic and imaginative 
power in which he stood almost alone among 
recent scholars. No detail of language or 
tradition or archaeology was to him a mere 
lifeless fact ; it was transmuted into something 
vital, and became a part of that universal hu- 
manity which always moved him wherever he 
found it, whether in the pages of a mediaeval 



chronicle, or in the stammering accents of a 
late and vulgarly distorted ballad, or in the 
faces of the street boys who begged roses from 
his garden. No man ever felt a keener inter- 
est in his kind, and no scholar ever brought 
this interest into more vivifying contact with 
the technicalities of his special studies. The 
exuberance of this large humanity pervades 
his edition of the English and Scottish bal- 
lads. Even in his last years, when the lan- 
guor of uncertain health sometimes got the 
better, for a season, of the spirit with which 
he commonly worked, some fresh bit of genu- 
ine poetry in a ballad, some fine trait of pure 
nature in a stray folk-tale, would, in an in- 
stant, bring back the full flush of that enthu- 
siasm which he must have felt when the 
possibilities of his achievement first presented 
themselves to his mind in early manhood. 
For such a nature there was no old age. 

From this ready sympathy came that rare 
faculty — seldom possessed by scholars — 
which made Professor Child peculiarly fit for 
his greatest task. Few persons understand 
the difficulties of ballad investigation. In no 
field of literature have the forger and the ma- 
nipulator worked with greater vigor and suc- 
cess. From Percy's day to our own it has 
been thought an innocent device to publish a 
bit of one's own versifying, now and then, as 
an " old ballad " or an " ancient song." Often, 
too, a late stall-copy of a ballad, getting into 
oral circulation, has been innocently furnished 
to collectors as traditional matter. Mere 
learning will not guide an editor through 
these perplexities. What is needed is, in ad- 
dition, a complete understanding of the " popu- 
lar " genius, a sympathetic recognition of the 
traits that characterize oral literature wher- 
ever and in whatever degree they exist. This 
faculty, which even the folk has not retained, 
and which collectors living in ballad-singing 
and tale-telling times have often failed to ac- 
quire, was vouchsafed by nature herself to 
this sedentary scholar. In reality a kind of 
instinct, it had been so cultivated by long and 
loving study of the traditional literature of all 
nations that it had become wonderfully swift 
in its operations and almost infallible. A 

forged or retouched piece could not deceive 
him for a moment ; he detected the slightest 
jar in the genuine ballad tone. He speaks in 
one place of certain writers " who would have 
been all the better historians for a little read- 
ing of romances." He was himself the better 
interpreter of the poetry of art for this keen 
sympathy with the poetry of nature. 

Constant association with the spirit of the 
folk did its part in maintaining, under the 
stress of unremitting study and research, that 
freshness and buoyancy of mind which was 
the wonder of all who met Professor Child for 
the first time, and the perpetual delight of his 
friends and associates. It is impossible to de- 
scribe the charm of his familiar conversation. 
There was endless variety without effort. 
His peculiar humor, taking shape in a thou- 
sand felicities of thought and phrase that fell 
casually and as it were inevitably from his 
lips, exhilarated without reaction or fatigue. 
His lightest words were full of fruitful sug- 
gestion. Sudden strains of melancholy or 
high seriousness were followed, in a moment, 
by flashes of gaiety almost boyish. And per- 
vading it all one felt the attraction of his per- 
sonality and the goodness of his heart. 

Professor Child's humor was not only one 
of his most striking characteristics as a man ; 
it was of constant service to his scholarly re- 
searches. Keenly alive to any incongruity in 
thought or fact, and the least self-conscious of 
men, he scrutinized his own nascent theories 
with the same humorous shrewdness with 
which he looked at the ideas of others. It is 
impossible to think of him as the sponsor of 
some hypotheses which men of equal eminence 
have advanced and defended with passion; 
and, even if his goodness of nature had not 
prevented it, his sense of the ridiculous would 
not have suffered him to engage in the ab- 
surdities of philological polemics. In the in- 
terpretation of literature, his humor stood 
him in good stead, keeping his native sensi- 
bility under due control, so that it never de- 
generated into sentimentalisra. It made him 
a marvelous interpreter of Chaucer, whose 
spirit he had caught to a degree attained by 
no other scholar or critic. 



To younger scholars Professor Child was an 
influence at once stimulating and benignant. 
To confer with him was always to be stirred 
to greater effort, but, at the same time, the 
serenity of his devotion to learning chastened 
the petulance of immature ambition in others. 
The talk might be quite concrete, even definite- 
ly practical, — it might deal with indifferent 
matters ; but, in some way, there was an irra- 
diation of the master's nature that dispelled 
all unworthy feelings. In the presence of his 
noble modesty the bustle of self-assertion was 
quieted and the petty spirit of pedantic wran- 
gling could not assert itself. However severe 
his criticism, there were no personalities in it. 
He could not be other than outspoken, — con- 
cealment and shuffling were abhorrent to him, 
— yet such was his kindliness that his frank- 
est judgments never wounded; even his re- 
proofs left no sting. With his large charity 
was associated, as its necessary complement 
in a strong character, a capacity for righteous 
indignation. " He is almost the only man I 
know," said one in his lifetime, " who thinks 
no eviV^ There could be no truer word. Yet 
when he was confronted with injury or op- 
pression, none could stand against the anger 
of this just man. His unselfishness did not 
suffer him to see offences against himself, but 
wrong done to another roused him in an in- 
stant to protesting action. 

Professor Child's publications, despite their 
magnitude and importance, are no adequate 
measure either of his acquirements or of his 
influence. He printed nothing about Shak- 
spere, for example, yet he was the peer of 
any Shaksperian, past or present, in know- 
ledge and interpretative power. As a Chaucer 
scholar he had no superior, in this country or 
in Europe : his published work was confined, 
as we have seen, to questions of language, but 
no one had a wider or closer acquaintance 

with the whole subject. An edition of Chaucer 
from his hand would have been priceless. His 
acquaintance with letters was not confined to 
special authors or centuries. He was at home 
in modern European literature and profoundly 
versed in that of the Middle Ages. In his 
immediate territory, — English, — his know- 
ledge, linguistic and literary, covered all pe- 
riods, and was alike exact and thorough. His 
taste and judgment were exquisite, and he 
enlightened every subject which he touched. 
As a writer, he was master of a singularly fe- 
licitous style, full of individuality and charm. 
Had his time not been occupied in other 
ways, he would have made the most delight- 
ful of essayists. 

Fortunately, Professor Child's courses of 
instruction in the university — particularly 
those on Chaucer and Shakspere — gave him 
an opportunity to impart to a constantly in- 
creasing circle of pupils the choicest fruits of 
his life of thought and study. In his later 
years he had the satisfaction to see grow up 
about him a school of young specialists who 
can have no higher ambition than to be worthy 
of their master. But his teaching was not 
limited to these, — it included all sorts and 
conditions of college students ; and none, not 
even the idle and incompetent, could fail to 
catch something of his spirit. One thing 
may be safely asserted : no university teacher 
was ever more beloved. 

And with this may fitly close too slight a 
tribute to the memory of a great scholar and 
a good man. Many things remain unsaid. 
His gracious family life, his civic virtues, his 
patriotism, his bounty to the poor, — all must 
be passed by with a bare mention, which yet 
will signify much to those who knew him. In 
all ways he lived worthily, and he died having 
attained worthy ends. 



A. a. *A Noble Riddle Wisely Expounded; or, The 
Maid's Answer to the Knight's Three Questions,' 
4to, Rawlinson, 566, fol. 193, Bodleian Library; 
Wood, E. 25, fol. 15, Bod. Lib. b. Pepys, in, 19, 
No 17, Magdalen College, Cambridge, c. Douce, 
II, fol. 168 b, Bod. Lib. d. ' A Riddle Wittily Ex- 
pounded,' Pills to Purge Melancholy, iv, 129, ed. 
1719. "II, 129, ed. 1712." 

B. ' The Three Sisters.' Some Ancient Christmas 
Carols . . . together with two Ancient Ballads, etc. 
By Davies Gilbert, 2d ed., p. 65. 

C. ' The Unco Knicht's Wowing,' Motherwell's MS., 
p. 647. 

D. Motherwell's MS., p. 142. 



The four copies of A differ but very slight- 
ly : a, b, o are broadsides, and d is evidently 
of that derivation, a and b are of the 17th 
century. There is another broadside in the 
Euing collection, formerly Halliwell's, No 
253. The version in The Borderer's Table 
Book, VII, 83, was compounded by Dixon 
from others previously printed. 

Riddles, as is well known, play an impor- 
tant part in popular story, and that from very 
remote times. No one needs to be reminded 
of Samson, CEdipus, Apollonius of Tyre. Rid- 
dle-tales, which, if not so old as the oldest of 
these, may be carried in all likelihood some 
centuries beyond our era, still live in Asiatic 
and European tradition, and have their repre- 
sentatives in popular ballads. The largest 
class of these tales is that in which one party 
has to guess another's riddles, or two rivals 
compete in ^ving or guessing, under penalty 
in either instance of forfeiting life or some 
other heavy wager ; an example of which is 
the English ballad, modern in form, of ' King 
John and the Abbot of Canterbury.' In a 
second class, a suitor can win a lady's hand 
only by guessing riddles, as in our ' Captain 
Wedderburn's Courtship ' and ' Proud Lady 
Margaret.' There is sometimes a penalty of 
loss of life for the unsuccessful, but not in 
these ballads. Thirdly, there is the tale (per- 
haps an offshoot of an early form of the first) 

of The Clever Lass, who wins a husband, and 
sometimes a crown, by guessing riddles, solv- 
ing difficult but practicable problems, or match- 
ing and evading impossibilities; and of this 
class versions A and B of the present ballad 
and A-H of the following are specimens. 

Ballads like our 1, A, B, 2, A-H, are very 
common in German. Of the former variety 
are the following : 

A. ' Rathsellied,' Biisching, Wochentliche 
Nachrichten, I, 65, from the neighborhood of 
Stuttgart. The same, Erlach, in, 37 ; Wun- 
derhorn, lY, 139 ; Liederhort, p. 338, No 153 ; 
Erk u. Irmer, H. 5, p. 32, No 29 ; Mittler, No 
1307 (omits the last stanza) ; Zuccalmaglio, 
n, 574, No 317 [with change in st. 11]. A 
knight meets a maid on the road, dismounts, 
and says, " I will ask you a riddle ; if you guess 
it, you shall be my wife." She answers, " Your 
riddle shall soon be guessed ; I will do my best 
to be your wife ; " guesses eight pairs of rid- 
dles, is taken up behind him, and they ride 
off. B. ' Rathsel um Rathsel,' Wunderhorn, 
n, 407 [429, 418] = Erlach, i, 439. Zuccal- 
maglio, n, 572, No 316, rearranges, but adds 
nothing. Mittler, No 1306, inserts three 
stanzas (7, 9, 10). This version begins : 
" Maid, I will give you some riddles, and if 
you, guess them will marry you." There are 
seven pairs, and, these guessed, the man says, 
" I can't give you riddles ; let 's marry ; " to 




which she gives no coy assent : but this con- 
clusion is said not to be genuine (Liederhort, 
p. 341, note). C. ' Rathsellied,' Erk, Neue 
Sammlung, Heft 3, p. 64, No 57, and Lieder- 
hort, 340, No 153% two Brandenburg ver- 
sions, nearly agreeing, one with six, the other 
with five, pairs of riddles. A proper conclu- 
sion not having been obtained, the former was 
completed by the two last stanzas of B, which 
are suspicious. O begins like B. D. ' Rath- 
selfragen,' Peter, Volksthiimliches aus Oster- 
reichisch-Schlesien, i, 272, No 83. A knight 
rides by where two maids are sitting, one of 
whom salutes him, the other not. He says to 
the former, " I will put you three questions, 
and if you can answer them will marry you." 
He asks three, then six more, then three, and 
then two, and, all being answered, bids her, 
since she is so witty, build a house on a 
needle's point, and put in as many windows 
as there are stars in the sky ; which she par- 
ries with, " When all streams flow together, 
and all trees shall fruit, and all thorns bear 
roses, then come for your answer." B. ' Rath- 
sellied,' Tschischka u. Schottky, Oesterreich- 
ische Volkslieder, 2d ed., p. 28, begins like B, 
C, has only three pairs of riddles, and ends with 
the same task of building a house on a needle's 
point. F. ' Rathsellied,' Hocker, Volkslieder 
von der Mosel, in Wolf's Zeits. fiir deutsche 
Myth., I, 251, from Trier, begins with the 
usual promise, has five pairs of riddles, and 
no conclusion. G. ' Rathsel,' Ditfurth, Frank- 
ische V. L., n, 110, No 146, has the same be- 
ginning, six pairs of riddles, and no conclusion. 

Some of the riddles occur in nearly all the 
versions, some in only one or two, and there 
is now and then a variation also in the an- 
swers. Those which are most frequent are : 

Which is the maid without a tress ? A-D, G. 

And which is the tower without a crest ? A-D, F, G. 

(Maid-child in the cradle ; tower of Babel.) 
Which is the water without any sand ? A, B, C, F, G. 
And which is the king without any land ? A, B, C, 
F, G. 

(Water in the eyes ; king in cards.) 
Where is no dust in all the road ? A-G. 
Where is no leaf in aU the wood ? A-G. 

(The nulky way, or a river ; a fir-wood.) 
Which is the fire that never burnt ? A, C-G. 
And which is the sword without a point ? C-G. 

(A painted fire ; a broken sword.) 
Which is the house without a mouse ? C-G. 
Which is the beggar without a louse ? C-G. 

(A snail's house ; a painted beggar.)* 

A ballad translated in Ralston's Songs of 
the Russian People, p. 356, from Buslaef's 
Historical Sketches of National Literature and 
Art, I, 31, resembles very closely German A. 
A merchant's son drives by a garden where a 
girl is gathering flowers. He salutes her ; she 
returns her thanks. Then the ballad pro- 
ceeds : 

' Shall I ask thee riddles, beauteous maiden ? 
Six wise riddles shall I ask thee ? ' 
' Ask them, ask them, merchant's son, 
Prithee ask the six wise riddles.' 
'WeU then, maiden, what is higher than the for- 
Also, what is brighter than the light ? 

* D 4, What is green as clover 1 What is white as milk * 
comes near to English A 15, C 13, D 5, What is greener 
than grass? C 11, D 2, What is whiter than milk? We 
have again, What is greener than grass 1 in ' Capt. Wedder- 
bum's Courtship,' A 12 ; What is whiter than snow ? What 
is greener than clover ? in ' Rathselfragen/ Firmenich, Ger- 
maniens Volkerstimmen, iii, 634 ; in ' Kranzsingen,' Erk's 
Liederhort, p. 342, 3 ; ' Traugemundslied,' 11;' Ein Spiel 
von den Freiheit,' Fastnachtspiele aus dem 15n Jahrhun- 
dert, II, 555; Altdeutache Walder, iii, 138. So, What is 
whiter than a swan ? in many of the versions of Svend 
Vonved, Grundtvig, in, 786; iv, 742-3-7-8 ; Afzelius, ii, 
139, etc.; and Sin is blacker than a sloe, or coal (cf. C 15, 
Sin is heavier nor the lead), Grundtvig, i, 240, 247 ; iv, 
748, 9; Afzelius, ii, 139. The road without dust and 
the tree without leaves are in ' Ein Spiel von den Freiheit,' 
p. 557 ; and in Meier, Deutsche Kinderreime, p. 84, no doubt 

a fragment of a ballad, as also the verses in Firmenich. 
The question in German, A 4, Welches ist das trefflichste 
Holz 1 (die Rebe) is in the Anglo-Saxon prose Salomon and 
Saturn: Kemble, Sal. and Sat. 188, No 40; 204; see also 
287, 10. Riddle verses with little or no story (sometimes 
fragments of ballads like D) are frequent. The Trauge- 
mundslied, Uhland, i, 3, and the Spiel von den Freiheit, 
Fastnachtspiele, ii, 553, have only as much story as will 
serve as an excuse for long strings of riddles. Shorter pieces 
of the kind are (Italian) Kaden, Italiens Wunderhem, p. 14; 
(Servian) 'The Maid and the Fish,' Vuk, i, 196, No 285, 
Talvj, II, 176, Goetze, Serbische V. L., p. 75, Bowring, Ser- 
vian Popular Poetry, p. 184; (Polish) Wojcicki, i, 203; 
(Wendish) Haupt and Schmaler, i, 177, No 150, ii, 69, No 
74 ; (Russian) Wenzig, Bibliothek Slav. Poesie, p. 174 ; (Es- 
thonian) Neus, Ehstnische V. L., 390 ff, and Fosterlandskt 
Album, I, 13, Prior, Ancient Danish Ballads, ii, 341. 


Also, maiden, what is thicker than the forest ? 
Also, maiden, what is there that 's rootless ? 
Also, maiden, what is never silent ? 
Also, what is there past finding out ? ' 
' I will answer, merchant's son, will answer. 
All the six wise riddles will I answer. 
Higher than the forest is the moon ; 
Brighter than the light the ruddy sun ; 
Thicker than the forest are the stars ; 
Rootless is, O merchant's son, a stone ; 
Never silent, merchant's son, the sea ; 
And God's will is past all finding out.' 
* Thou hast guessed, maiden fair, guessed rightly. 
All the six wise riddles hast thou answered ; 
Therefore now to me shalt thou be wedded, 
Therefore, maiden, shalt thou be the merchant's 
wife.' * 

Among the Gaels, both Scotcli and Irish, a 
ballad of the same description is extremely- 
well known. Apparently only the questions 
are preserved in verse, and the connection 
with the story made by a prose comment. Of 
these questions there is an Irish form, dated 
1738, which purports to be copied from a 
manuscript of the twelfth century. Fionn 
would marry no lady whom he could pose. 
Graidhne, "daughter of the king of the 
fifth of Ullin," answered everything he asked, 
and became his wife. Altogether there are 

thirty-two questions in the several versions. 
Among them are: What is blacker than 
the raven ? (There is death.) What is 
whiter than the snow ? (There is the truth.) 
' Fionn's Questions,' Campbell's Popular Tales 
of the West Highlands, in, 36 ; ' Fionn's Con- 
versation with Ailbhe,' Heroic Gaelic Ballads, 
by the same, pp. 150, 151. 

The familiar ballad-knight of A, B is con- 
verted in C into an " unco knicht," who is the 
devil, a departure from the proper story which 
is found also in 2 J. The conclusion of C, 

As soon as she the fiend did name, 
He flew awa in a blazing flame, 

reminds us of the behavior of trolls and nixes 
under like circumstances, but here the naming 
amounts to a detection of the Unco Knicht's 
quiddity, acts as an exorcism, and simply 
obliges the fiend to go ofE in his real charac- 
ter. D belongs with C : it was given by the 
reciter as a colloquy between the devil and a 

The earlier affinities of this ballad can be 
better shown in connection with No 2. 

Translated, after B and A, in Grundtvig's 
Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 181 : Her- 
der, Volkslieder, i, 95, after A d. 


a. Broadside in the Rawlinson collection, 4to, 566, foL 
193, Wood, E. 25, fol. 15. b. Pepys, in, 19, No 17. c. 
Douce, II, fol. 168 b. d. Pills to Purge Melancholy, it, 
130, ed. 1719. 

1 There was a lady of the North Country, 

Lay the bent to the bonny broom 
And she had lovely daughters three. 
Fa la la la, fa la la la ra re 

2 There was a knight of noble worth 
Which also lived in the North. 

3 The knight, of courage stout and brave, 
A wife he did desire to have. 

* *Capt. "Wedderburn's Courtship,' 12: What's higher 
than the tree ? (heaven). Wojcicki, Piesni, i, 203, 1. 11, 206, 
1. 3 ; What grows without a root ? (a stone). 

4 He knocked at the ladie's gate 
One evening when it was late. 

5 The eldest sister let him in. 

And pin'd the door with a silver pin. 

6 The second sister she made his bed, 
And laid soft pillows imder his head. 

7 The youngest daughter that same night, 
She went to bed to this young knight. 

8 And in the morning, when it was day, 
These words unto him she did say : 

9 ' Now you have had your will,' quoth she, 
' I pray, sir knight, will you marry me ? ' 

10 The young brave knight to her replyed, 
' Thy suit, fair maid, shall not be deny'd. 


11 * If thou canst answer me questions three, 
This very day will I marry thee.' 

12 * Kind sir, in love, O then,' quoth she, 

' Tell me what your [three] questions be.' 

13 * what is longer than the way, 
Or what is deeper than the sea ? 

14 ' Or what is louder than the horn, 
Or what is sharper than a thorn ? 

15 * Or what is greener than the grass, 
Or what is worse then a woman was ? ' 

16 ' love is longer than the way, 
And hell is deeper than the sea. 

17 ' And thunder is louder than the horn. 
And hunger is sharper than a thorn. 

18 ' And poyson is greener than the grass, 
And the Devil is worse than woman was. 

19 When she these questions answered had, 
The knight became exceeding glad. 

20 And having [truly] try'd her wit. 
He much commended her for it. 

21 And after, as it is verifi'd, 

He made of her his lovely bride. 

22 So now, fair maidens all, adieu. 
This song I dedicate to you. 

23 I wish that you may constant prove 
Vnto the man that you do love. 


Gilbert's Christinas Carols, 2d ed., p. 65, from the editor's 
recollection. West of England. 

1 There were three sisters fair and bright, 

Jennifer gentle and rosemaree 
And they three loved one valiant knight. 
As the dew flies over the mulberry tree 

2 The eldest sister let him in. 

And barred the door with a silver pin. 

3 The second sister made his bed. 

And placed soft pillows under his head. 

4 The yoimgest sister, fair and bright, 

Was resolved for to wed with this valiant 

5 ' And if you can answer questions three, 
then, fair maid, I wiU marry with thee. 

6 ' What is louder than an horn, 
And what is sharper than a thorn ? 

7 ' Thunder is louder than an horn. 
And hunger is sharper than a thorn.' 

8 ' What is broader than the way. 
And what is deeper than the sea ? ' 

9 ' Love is broader than the way. 
And hell is deeper than the sea.' 


' And now, fair maid, I will marry with thee.* 


Motherwell's MS., p. 647. From the recitation of Mrs 

1 Thebe was a knicht riding frae the east. 
Sing the Gather banks, the bonnie brume 
Wha had been wooing at monie a place. 
And ye may beguile a young thing sune 

2 He came unto a widow's door, 

And speird whare her three dochters were. 

3 The auldest ane 's to a washing gane. 
The second 's to a baking gane. 

4 The youngest ane 's to a wedding gane. 
And it will be nicht or she be hame. 


6 He sat him doun upon a stane, 

Till thir three lasses came tripping hame. 

6 The auldest ane 's to the bed making, 

And the second ane 's to the sheet spreading. 

7 The youngest ane was bauld and bricht, 
And she was to lye with this unco knicht. 

8 ' Gin ye will answer me questions ten, 
The morn ye sail be made my ain. 

9 * O what is heigher nor the tree ? 
And what is deeper nor the sea ? 

10 ' Or what is heavier nor the lead ? 
And what is better nor the breid ? 

13 * Or what is greener nor the grass ? 
Or what is waur nor a woman was ? ' 

14 * heaven is higher nor the tree, 
And heU is deeper nor the sea. 

15 * sin is heavier nor the lead, 
The blessing 's better nor the bread. 

16 ' The snaw is whiter nor the mUk, 
And the down is safter nor the silk. 

17 ' Hunger is sharper nor a thorn, 
And shame is louder nor a horn. 

18 ' The pies are greener nor the grass, 
And Clootie's waur nor a woman was.' 

11 ' O what is whiter nor the milk ? 
Or what is safter nor the sUk ? 

19 As sune as she the fiend did name, 
He flew awa in a blazing flame. 

12 ' Or what is sharper nor a thorn ? 
Or what is louder nor a horn ? 

Motherwell's MS., p. 142. 

1 * O WHAT is higher than the trees ? 

Gar lay the bent to the bonny broom 
And what is deeper than the seas ? 
And you may beguile a fair maid soon 

2 * O what is whiter than the milk ? 
Or what is softer than the silk ? 

3 * what is sharper than the thorn ? 
O what is louder than the horn ? 

4 ' what is longer than the way ? 
And what is colder than the clay ? 

5 ' O what is greener than the grass ? 
And what is worse than woman was ? ' 

6 ' O heaven 's higher than the trees, 
And heU is deeper than the seas. 

7 ' And snow is whiter than the milk, 
And love is softer than the sUk. 

8 ' O hunger 's sharper than the thorn, 
And thunder 's louder than the horn. 

9 ' O wind is longer than the way. 
And death is colder than the clay. 

10 ' poison 's greener than the grass. 

And the Devil 's worse than eer woman was.' 

A. a. Title. A Noble Riddle wisely Expounded : 
or, The Maids answer to the Knights Three 
She with her excellent wit and civil carriage. 
Won a young Knight to joyn with him in mar- 
riage ; 
This gallant couple now is man and wife. 
And she with him doth lead a pleasant Life. 
Tune of Lay the bent to the boimy broom. 



C. Knights questions. Wed a knight 
with her in marriage. 


a. Printed for F. Coles, T, Vere, I. Wright, 
and I. Clarke. 

b. Printed for W. Thackeray, E. M. and A. M. 

c. Licens'd according to Order. London. 
Printed by Tho. Norris, at the L[o]oking 
glass on London-bridge. And sold by J. 
Walter, in High Holbom. 

In Bawlinson and Wood the first seven lines 
are in Roman and Italic type ; the remain- 
der being in black letter and Soman. The 
Pepys copy has one line of the ballad in 
black letter and one line in Moman type. 
The Douce edition is in Roman and Italic. 
A. 1^ c, i' th' Nori;h : d, in the. 

3^ c, This knight. 

5^. a, b, c, d, The youngest sister. 

7^. b, d, The youngest that same, c, that 
very same. 

7*. a, with this young knight. 

9^. d, sir knight, you marry me. 

After 10, there is a wood-cut of the knight 
and the maid in B.; in h two cuts of the 

ll^. c, I '11 marry, d, I will. 

12^. o omits in love. 12^. b, c, d, three 

14-^. d, a horn. 

After 15 : a, Here follows the Damosels an- 
swer to the Knight's Three Questions": c. 

The Damsel's Answers To The Knight's 

Questions : d, The Damsel's Answer to the 

Three Questions. 
17, 18. b, c, d, thunder 's, hunger 's, poy- 

son 's, devil 's. 
18^. d, the woman. 
19^ c, those. 
20. a, b omit truly. 
21^ b, c, d, as 't is. 

B. The burden is printed by Gilbert, in the text, 

" Jennifer gentle and Rosemaree." He ap- 
pears to take Jennifer and Rosemaree to be 
names of the sisters. As printed under the 
music, the burden runs, 

Juniper, Gentle and Rosemary. 

No doubt, juniper and rosemary, simply, are 
meant ; Gentle might possibly be for gentian. ^ 
In2 "H. the burden is. 

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme : 
curiously varied in I thtis : 

Every rose grows merry wi thyme : 
and in G, 

Sober and grave grows merry in time. 

C. 18. " Vergris in another set." M. 

D. MS. before st. 1, » The Devil speaks ; " before 

St. 6, " The maiden speaks." 


A. ' A proper new ballad entituled The Wind hath 
blown my Plaid away, or, A Discourse betwixt a 
young [ Wo]man and the Elphin Knight ; ' a broad- 
side in black letter in the Pepysian library, bound up 
at the end of a copy of Blind Harry's * Wallace,' 
Edin. 1673. 

(^'^ B, ' A proper new ballad entitled The Wind hath 
^. ' blawn my Plaid awa,' etc. Webster, A Collection 

". . ^^ - of Curious Old BaUads, p. 3. ( /^^^) O^^U . •^^ ' V 

^ ? C. ' The Elfin Knicht,' Kiiiloch's Anc. Scott. Ballads, 

p. 145. 

D. ' The Fairy Knight,' Buchan, ii, 296. 

E. Motherwell's MS., p, 492. 

F. ' Lord John,' Kinloch MSS, i, 75. 

G. ' The Cambrick Shirt,' Gammer Gurton's Garland, 
p. 3, ed. 1810. 

H. ' The Deil's Courtship,' Motherwell's MS., p. 92. 

I. ' The Deil's Courting,' Motherwell's MS., p. 103. 

J. Communicated by Rev. Dr Huntington, Bishop of 
Western New York, as sung at Hadley, Mass. 

K. Halliwell's Nursery Rhymes of England, p. 109, No 
171, 6th ed. 

L. Notes and Queries, Ist S., vii, 8. 


PiNKEETON gave the first information con- 
cerning A, in Ancient Scotish Poems . . . 
from the MS. collections of Sir Richard Mait- 
land, etc., n, 496, and he there printed the 
first and last stanzas of the broadside. Moth- 
erwell printed the whole in the appendix to 
his Minstrelsy, No I. What stands as the 
last stanza in the broadside is now prefixed to 
the ballad, as having been the original burden. 
It is the only example, so far as I remember, 
which our ballads afford of a burden of this 
kind, one that is of greater extent than the 
stanza with which it was sung, though this 
kind of burden seems to have been common 
enough with old songs and carols.* 

The " old copy in black letter " used for B 
was close to A, if not identical, and has the 
burden-stem at the end like A. ' The Jock- 
ey's Lamentation,' Pills to Purge Melancholy, 
V, 317, has the burden, 

'T is oer the hills and far away [thrice^, 
The wind hath blown my plaid away. 

The ' Bridal Sark,' Cromek's Remains of 
Nithsdale and Galloway Song, p. 108, and 
* The Bridegroom Darg,' p. 113, are of mod- 
em manufacture and impostures ; at least, 
they seem to have imposed upon Cromek. 

A like ballad is very common in German. 
A man would take, or keep, a woman for his 
love or his wife [servant, in one case], if she 
would spin brown silk from oaten straw. She 
will do this if he will make clothes for her 
of the linden-leaf. Then she must bring him 
shears from the middle of the Rhine. But 

first he must build her a bridge from a single 
twig, etc., etc. To this effect, with some va- 
riations in the tasks set, in A, ' Eitle Dinge,' 
Rhaw, Bicinia (1545), Uhland, i, 14, No 4 
A, Bohme, p. 376, No 293. B. ' Van ideln 
unmoglichen Dingen,' Neocorus (f c. 1630), 
Chronik des Landes Ditmarschen, ed. Dahl- 
mann, p. 180 = Uhland, p. 15, No 4 B, Miil- 
lenhof, p. 473, Bohme, p. 376, No 294. C. 
Wunderhorn, n, 410 [431] =Erlach, i, 441, 
slightly altered in Kretzschmer [Zuccalma- 
glio], II, 620. D. ' Unmoglichkeiten,' Schmel- 
ler. Die Mundarten Bayerns, p. 556. E. Schle- 
sische Volkslieder, p. 115, No 93. F. ' Liebes- 
Neckerei,' Meier, Schwabische V. L., p. 114, 
No 39. G. ' Liebesspielereien,' Ditfurth, 
Frankische V. L., ii, 109, No 144. H. ' Von 
eitel unmoglichen Dingen,' Erk's Liederhort, 
p. 337, No 152^ I. ' Unmogliches Begehr- 
en,' V. L. aus Oesterreich, Deutsches Mu- 
seum, 1862, n, 806, No 16. J. ' Unmog- 
liche Dinge,' Peter, Volksthiimliches aus 
Osterreichisch-Schlesien, i, 270, No 82. In 
K, ' Wettgesang,' Meinert, p. 80, and L, 
Liederhort, p. 334, No 152, there is a simple 
contest of wits between a youth and a maid, 
and in M, Erk, Neue Sammlung, H. 2, No 
11, p. 16, and N, ' Wunderbare Aufgaben,' 
Prohle, Weltliche u. geistliche Volkslieder, p. 
36, No 22 B, the wit-contest is added to the 
very insipid ballad of ' Gemalte Rosen.' 

' Store Fordringar,' Kristensen, Jydske 
Folkeviser, i, 221, No 82, and ' Opsang,' 
Lindeman, Norske Fjeldmelodier, No 35 
(Text Bilag, p. 6), closely resemble German 

♦ All that was required of the burden, Mr Chappell kindly 
y writes me, was to support the voice by harmonious notes 
under the melody ; it was not sung after each half of the 
stanza, or after the stanza, and it was heard separately only 
when the voices singing the air stopped. Even the Danish 
ballads exhibit but a few cases of these " burden-stems," as 
Grundtvig calls them: see Danmarks Gamle Folkeviser, 
II, 221, B 1; 295, Bl; 393, A 1: iii, 197, D; 470, A. 
Such burden-stems are, however, very common in Icelandic 
ballads. They are, for the most part, of a different metre 
from the ballad, and very often not of the same number of 
lines as the ballad stanza. A part of the burden stem would 
seem to be taken for the refrain ; as Islenzk FornkvaeSi, i, 
30, of four verses, 1, 2, 4; 129, of two, the last half of the 
first and all the second; 194, of four, the last; 225, of five, 
the last two ; ii, 52, of five, the second and last two. 
In later times the Danish stev-stamme was made to con- 

form to the metre of the ballad, and sung as the first stanza, 
the last line perhaps forming the burden. Compare the stev- 
stamme, Grundtvig, in, 470, with the first stanza of the bal- 
lad at p. 475. If not so changed, says Grundtvig, it dropped 
away. Lyngbye, at the end of his Faeroiske Qvseder, gives 
the n\usic of a ballad which he had heard sung. The whole 
stem is sung first, and then repeated as a burden at the end 
of every verse. The modem way, judging by Berggreen, i 
Folke-Sange og Melodier, 3d ed., i, 352, 358, is simply to sing I 
the whole stem after each verse, and so says Grundtvig, in, | 
200, D. The whole stem is appended to the last stanza | 
(where, as usual, the burden, which had been omitted after 
stanza 1, is again expressed) in the Fseroe ballad in Grundt- 
vig, III, 199, exactly as in our broadside, or in Motherwell's 
Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. iii. I must avow myself to be very I 
much in the dark as to the exact relation of stem and bur- / 
den. ' 



M, N. In the Stev, or alternate song, in 
Landstad, p. 375, two singers vie one with an- 
other in propounding impossible tasks. 

A Wendish ballad, Haupt and Schmaler, i, 
178, No 151, and a Slovak, ^elakowsky, ii, 
68, No 12 (the latter translated by Wenzig, 
Slawische Volkslieder, p. 86, Westslavischer 
Marcbenschatz, p. 221, and Bibliothek Sla- 
vischer Poesien, p. 126), have lost nearly all 
their story, and, like German K, L, may be 
called mere wit-contests. 

The Graidhne whom we have seen winning 
Fionn for husband by guessing his riddles, p. 
3, afterwards became enamored of Diarmaid, 
Fionn's nephew, in consequence of her acci- 
dentally seeing a beauty spot on Diarmaid's 
forehead. This had the power of infecting 
with love any woman whose eye should light 
upon it : wherefore Diarmaid used to wear his 
cap well down. Graidhne tried to make Diar- 
maid run away with her. But he said, " I will 
not go with thee. I will not take thee in soft- 
ness, and I will not take thee in hardness ; I 
will not take thee without, and I will not take 
thee within ; I will not take thee on horseback, 
and I will not take thee on foot." Then he 
went and built himself a house where he 
thought he should be out of her way. But 
Graidhne found him out. She took up a posi- 
tion between the two sides of the door, on a 
buck goat, and called to him to go with her. 
For, said she, " I am not without, I am not 
within ; I am not on foot, and I am not on a 
horse; and thou must go with me." After 
this Diarmaid had no choice. * Diarmaid and 
Grainne,' Tales of the West Highlands, ni, 
39-49 ; ' How Fingal got Graine to be his 
wife, and she went away with Diarmaid,' 
Heroic Gaelic Ballads, p. 153 ; ' The Death 
of Diarmaid,' ib., p. 154. The last two were 
written down c. 1774. 

In all stories of the" kind, the person upon 
whom a task is imposed stands acquitted, if 
another of no less difficulty is devised which 
must be performed first. This preliminary 
may be something that is essential for the ex- 

ecution of the other, as in the German bal- 
lads, or equally well something that has no 
kind of relation to the original requisition, as 
in the English ballads. 

An early form of such a story is preserved 
in Gesta Romanorum, c. 64, Oesterley, p. 374. 
It were much to be wished that search were 
made for a better copy, for, as it stands, this 
tale is to be interpreted only by the English 
ballad. The old English version. Madden, 
XLHI, p. 142, is even worse mutilated than 
the Latin. A king, who was stronger, wiser, 
and handsomer than any man, delayed, like 
the Marquis of Saluzzo, to take a wife. His 
friends urged him to marry, and he replied 
to their expostulations, " You know I am rich 
enough and powerful enough ; find me a maid 
who is good looking and sensible, and I will 
take her to wife, though she be poor." A maid 
was found who was eminently good looking 
and sensible, and of royal blood besides. The 
king wished to make trial of her sagacity, and 
sent her a bit of linen three inches square, 
with a promise to marry her if she would 
make him a shirt of this, of proper length and 
width. The lady stipulated that the king 
should send her " a vessel in which she could 
work," and she would make the shirt : " michi 
vas concedat in quo operari potero, et camisiam 
satis longam ei promitto." So the king sent 
" vas debitum et preciosum," the shirt was 
made, and the king married her.* It may be 
doubted whether the sagacious maid did not, 
in the unmutilated story, deal with the prob- 
lem as is done in a Transylvanian tale. Halt- 
rich, Deutsche Volksmarchen, u. s. w.. No 45, p. 
245, where the king requires the maid to make 
a shirt and drawers of two threads. The 
maid, in this instance, sends the king a couple 
of broomsticks, requiring that he should first 
make her a loom and bobbin-wheel out of them. 

The tale just cited, 'Der Burghuter und 
seine kluge Tochter,' is one of several which 
have been obtained from tradition in this 
century, that link the ballads of The Clever 
Lass with oriental stories of great age. The 

• Grnndtvig has noticed the resemhiauce of G. R. 64 and 
the ballad. — Much of what follows is derived from the ad- 
mirable Benfey's papers, ' Die klage Dime, Die indischen 

Marchen Ton den klugen Rathsellosem, nnd ihre Verbreitung 
iiber Asien und Enropa,' Ausland, 1859, p. 457, 486, 511, 567, 
589, in Nos 20, 21, 22, 24, 25. 



material points are these. A king requires 
the people of a'parish to answer three ques- 
tions, or he will be the destruction of them 
all : What is the finest sound, the finest song, 
the finest stone ? A poor warder is instructed 
by his daughter to reply, the ring of bells, the 
song of the angels, the philosopher's stone. 
" Right," says the king, " but that never came 
out of your head. Confess who told you, or 
a dungeon is your doom." The man owns 
that he has a clever daughter, who had told 
him what to say. The king, to prove her sa- 
gacity further, requires her to make a shirt and 
drawers of two threads, and she responds in 
the manner just indicated. He next sends her 
by her father an earthen pot with the bottom 
out, and tells her to sew in a bottom so that 
no seam or stitch can be seen. She sends her 
father back with a request that the king 
should first turn the pot inside out, for cob- 
blers always sew on the inside, not on the out. 
The king next demanded that the girl should 
come to him, neither driving, nor walking, nor 
riding ; neither dressed nor naked ; neither 
out of the road nor in the road ; and bring him 
something that was a gift and no gift. She 
put two wasps between two plates, stripped, 
enveloped herself in a fishing-net, put her 
goat into the rut in the road, and, with one 
foot on the goat's back, the other stepping 
along the rut, made her way to the king. 
There she lifted up one of the plates, and 
the wasps flew away : so she had brought the 
king a present and yet no present. The king 
thought he could never find a shrewder woman, 
and married her. 

Of the same tenor are a tale in Zingerle's 
Tyrolese Kinder u, Hausmarchen, ' Was ist 
das Schonste, Starkste und Reichste?' No 
27, p. 162, and another in the Colshorns' 
Hanoverian Miirchen u. Sagen, ' Die kluge 
Dime,' No 26, p. 79. Here a rich and a poor 
peasant [a farmer and his bailiff] have a case 
in court, and wrangle till the magistrate, in 
his weariness, says he will give them three 

* Ragnar LoSbrdk (Saga, c. 4, Rafn, Fomaldar Sogur, i, 
245), as pointed out by the Grimms, notes to No 94, re- 
quires Kraka (Aslaug) to come to him clothed and not 
clothed, fasting and not fasting, alone and not without a 

questions, and whichever answers right shall 
win. The questions in the former tale are : 
What is the most beautiful, what the strong- 
est, what the richest thing in the world? 
In the other. What is fatter than fat ? How 
heavy is the moon ? How far is it to heaven ? 
The answers suggested by the poor peasant's 
daughter are : Spring is the most beautiful of 
things, the ground the strongest, autumn the 
richest. And the bailiff's daughter answers : 
The ground is fatter than fat, for out of it 
comes all that 's fat, and this all goes back 
again ; the moon has four quarters, and four 
quarters make a pound ; heaven is only one 
day's journey, for we read in the Bible, " To- 
day shalt thou be with me in Paradise." The 
judge sees that these replies are beyond the 
wit of the respondents, and they own to hav- 
ing been prompted by a daughter at home. 
The judge then say^ that if the girl will come 
to him neither dressed nor naked, etc., he will 
marry her ; and so the shrewd wench becomes 
a magistrate's wife. 

' Die kluge Bauerntochter,' in the Grimms' 
K. u. H. marchen. No 94, and ' Die kluge 
Hirtentochter,' in Prohle's Marchen fiir die 
Jugend, No 49, p. 181, afford another variety 
of these tales. A peasant, against the advice 
of his daughter, carries the king a golden mor- 
tar, as he had found it, without any pestle. 
The king shuts him up in prison till he shall 
produce the pestle [Grimms]. The man does 
nothing but cry, " Oh, that I had listened to 
my daughter ! " The king sends for him, and, 
learning what the girl's counsel had been, says 
he will give her a riddle, and if she can make 
it out will marry her. She must come to him 
neither clothed nor naked, neither riding nor 
driving, etc. The girl wraps herself in a fish- 
ing-net [Grimms, in bark, Prohle], satisfies the 
other stipulations also, and becomes a queen.* 

Another story of the kind, and very well 
preserved, is No 25 of Vuk's Volksmarchen 
der Serben, ' Von dem Madchen das an Weis- 
heit den Kaiser iibertraf,' p. 157. A poor 

companion. She puts on a fishing-net, bites •» leek, and 
takes her dog with her. References for the very frequent oc- 
currence of this feature may be found in Oesterley's note to 
Gesta Romanorum, No 124, at p. 732. 



man had a wise daughter. An emperor gave 
him thirty eggs, and said his daughter must 
hatch chickens from these, or it would go hard 
with her. The girl perceived that the eggs 
had heen boiled. She boiled some beans, and 
told her father to be ploughing along the road, 
and when the emperor came in sight, to sow 
them and cry, " God grant my hoiled beans 
may come up ! " The emperor, hearing these 
ejaculations, stopped, and said, " My poor 
fellow, how can boiled beans grow?" The 
father answered, according to instructions, 
"As well as chickens can hatch from boiled 
eggs." Then the emperor gave the old man 
a bundle of linen, and bade him make of it, 
on pain of death, sails and everything else 
requisite for a ship. The girl gave her father 
a piece of wood, and sent him back to the 
emperor with the message that she would per- 
form what he had ordereyd, if he would first 
make her a distaff, spindle, and loom out of 
the wood. The emperor was astonished at the 
girl's readiness, and gave the old man a glass, 
with which she was to drain the sea. The girl 
dispatched her father to the emperor again 
with a pound of tow, and asked him to stop 
the mouths of all the rivers that flow into 
the sea ; then she would drain it dry. Here- 
upon the emperor ordered the girl herself l)e- 
fore him, and put her the question, " What 
13 heard furthest ? " " Please your Majesty," 
she answered, " thunder and lies." The em- 
peror then, clutching his beard, turned to his 
assembled counsellors, and said, " Guess how 
much my beard is worth." One said so much, 
another so much. But the girl said, *' Nay, 
the emperor's beard is worth three rains in 
summer." The emperor took her to wife. 

With these traditional tales we may put the 
story of wise Petronelle and Alphonsb, king 
of Spain, told after a chronicle, with his usual 
prolixity, by Gower, Confessio Amantis, Pauli, 
I, 145 ff. The king valued himself highly for 
his wit, and was envious of a knight who hither- 
to had answered all his questions. Determined 
to confound his humbler rival, he devised 
three which he thought unanswerable, sent 
for the knight, and gave him a fortnight to 
consider his replies, which failing, he would 

lose his goods and head. The knight can 
make nothing of these questions, which are. 
What is that which needs help least and gets 
most ? What is worth most and costs least ? 
What costs most and is worth least? The 
girl, who is but fourteen years old, observing 
her father's heavy cheer, asks him the reason, 
and obtains his permission to go to court with 
him and answer the questions. He was to say 
to the king that he had deputed her to an- 
swer, to make trial of her wits. The answer 
to the first question is the earth, and agrees 
in the details with the solution of the query, 
What is fatter than fat ? in the Tyrolese and 
the Hanoverian tale. Humility is the answer 
to the second, and pride the third answer. 
The king admires the young maid, and says 
he would marry her if her father were noble ; 
but she may ask a boon. She begs for her 
father an earldom which had lately escheated; 
and, this granted, she reminds the king of 
what he had said ; her father is now noble. 
The king marries her. 

In all these seven tales a daughter gets her 
father out of trouble by the exercise of a su- 
perior understanding, and marries an emperor, 
a king, or at least far above her station. The 
Grimms' story has the feature, not found in 
the others, that the father had been thrown 
into prison. Still another variety of these 
stories, inferior, but preserving essential traits, 
is given by Schleicher, Litauische Marchen, 
p. 3, ' Vom schlauen Madchen.' 

A Turkish tale from South Siberia will 
take us a step further, ' Die beiden Fiirsten,' 
Radloff, Proben der Volkslitteratur der tiirk- 
ischen Stamme Siid-Sibiriens, i, 197. A 
prince had a feeble-minded son, for whom he 
wished to get a wife. He found a girl gath- 
ering fire-wood with others, and, on asking her 
questions, had reason to be pleased with her 
superior discretion. He sent an ox- to the 
girl's father, with a message that on the third 
day he would pay him a visit, and if by that 
time he had not made the ox drop a calf and 
give milk, he would lose his head. The old 
man and his wife fell to weeping. The daugh- 
ter bade them be of good cheer, killed the ox, 
and gave it to her parents to eat. On the 



third day she stationed herself on the road 
by which the prince would come, and was gath- 
ering herbs. The prince asked what this was 
for. The girl said, " Because my father is in 
the pangs of child-birth, and I am going to 
spread these herbs under him." " Why," said 
the prince, " it is not the way, that men should 
bear children." " But if a man can't bear 
children," answered the girl, " how can an ox 
have a calf ? " The prince was pleased, but 
said nothing. He went away, and sent his 
messenger again with three stones in a bag. 
He would come on the third day, and if the 
stones were not then made into boots, the old 
man would lose his head. On the third day 
the prince came, with all his grandees. The 
girl was by the roadside, collecting sand in a 
bag. "What are you going to do with that 
sand?" asked the prince. "Make thread," 
said she. " But who ever made thread out of 
sand ? " " And who ever made boots out of 
stones ? " she rejoined. The prince laughed 
in his sleeve, prepared a great wedding, and 
married the girl to his son. Soon after, an- 
other prince wrote him a letter, saying, " Do 
not let us be fighting and killing, but let us 
guess riddles. If you guess all mine, I will 
be your subject ; if you fail, I will take all 
your having." They were a whole year at 
the riddles. The other prince " knew three 
words more," and threw ours into a deep dun- 
geon. From the depths of this dungeon he 
contrived to send a profoundly enigmatic dis- 
patch to his daughter-in-law, who understood 
everything, disguised herself as one of his 
friends, and proposed to the victor to guess 
riddles again. The clever daughter-in-law 

"knew seven words more " than he, took her 
father-in-law out of the dungeon, threw his 
rival in, and had all the people and property ^ 
of the vanquished prince for her own. 

This Siberian tale links securely those which 
precede it with a remarkable group of stories, 
covering by representatives still extant, or 
which may be shown to have existed, a large 
part of Asia and of Europe. This group in- 
cludes, besides a Wallachian and a Magyar tale 
from recent popular tradition, one Sanskrit 
form ; two Tibetan, derived from Sanskrit ; 
one Mongol, from Tibetan ; three Arabic and 
one Persian, which also had their source in 
Sanskrit ; two Middle-Greek, derived from 
Arabic, one of which is lost ; and two old Rus- 
sian, from lost Middle-Greek versions.* 

The gist of these narratives is that one king 
propounds tasks to another ; in the earlier ones, 
with the intent to discover whether his brother 
monarch enjoys the aid of such counsellors as 
will make an attack on him dangerous ; in the 
later, with a demand that he shall acquit 
himself satisfactorily, or suffer a forfeit : and 
the king is delivered from a serious strait by 
the sagacity either of a minister (whom he had 
ordered to be put to death, but who was still 
living in prison, or at least seclusion) or of 
the daughter of his minister, who came to her 
father's assistance. Which is the prior of 
these two last inventions it would not be easy 
to say. These tasks are always such as re- 
quire ingenuity of one kind or another, whether 
in devising practical experiments, in contriv- 
ing subterfuges, in solving riddles, or even in 
constructing compliments.f 

One of the Tibetan tales, which, though 

* Benfey, Das Ausland, 1859, p. 459. The versions re- 
ferred to are: Shukasaptati (Seventy Tales of a Parrot), 
47th and 48th night ; the Buddhist Kanjur, Vinaya, iii, fol. 
71-83, and Dsanglun, oder der Weise u. der Thor, also from 
the Kanjur, translated by I. J. Schmidt, c. 23 ; the Mongol 
translation of Dsanglun [see Popow, Mongolische Chres- 
tomathie, p. 19, Schiefner's preface to Radloff, i, xi, xii] ; 
an imperfect Singhalese version in Spence Hardy's Manual 
of Buddhism, p. 220, ' The History of Wisakha ; ' ' Geschichte 
des weisen Heykar,' 1001 Nacht, Habicht, v. d. Hagen u. 
Schall, XIII, 71, ed. 1840; ' Histoire de Sinkarib et de ses 
deux Visirs,' Cabinet des Fees, xxxix, 266 (Persian) ; two 
old Russian translations of Greek tales derived from Arabic, 
Pypin, * in the Papers of the Second Division of the Im- 

perial Acad, of Sciences, St Petersburg, 1858, iv, 63-85;' 
Planudes, Life of -Sisop ; A. and A. Schott, Walachische 
Mffihrchen, p. 125, No 9, ' Vom weissen und vom rothen 
Kaiser; ' Erde'lyi, Nepdalok es Mondak, in, 262, No 8, ' The 
Little Boy with the Secret and his Little Sword.' To these is 
to be added, ' L'Histoire de Moradbak,' Caylus, Nouveaux 
Contes Orientaux, CEuvres Badines, vii, 289 £E, Cabinet des 
Fe'es, XXV, 9-406 (from the Turkish?). In the opinion of 
Benfey, it is in the highest degree likely, though not demon- 
strable, that the Indian tale antedates our era by several 
centuries. Ausland, p. 511 ; see also pp. 487, 459. 

t Ingenuity is one of the six transcendental virtues of 
Mahayana Buddhism. Schlagintweit, Buddhism in Tibet, 
p. 36. 



dating from the beginning of our era, will 
very easily be recognized in the Siberian tra- 
dition of this century, is to this effect. King 
Rabssaldschal had a rich minister, who de- 
sired a suitable wife for his youngest son. A 
Brahman, his trusty friend, undertook to find 
one. In the course of his search, which ex- 
tended through many countries, the Brah- 
man saw one day a company of five hundred 
maidens, who were making garlands to offer to 
Buddha. One of these attracted his notice by 
her behavior, and impressed him favorably 
by replies to questions which he put.* The 
Brahman made proposals to her father in 
behalf of the minister's son. These were ac- 
cepted, and the minister went with a great train 
to fetch home the bride. On the way back his 
life was twice saved by taking her advice, and 
when she was domiciliated, she so surpassed her 
sisters-in-law in housekeeping talents and vir- 
tues that everything was put under her direc- 
tion. Discord arose between the king of the 
country she had left and Rabssaldschal, under 
whom she was now living. The former wished 
to make trial whether the latter had an able 
and keen-witted minister or not, and sent him 
two mares, dam and filly, exactly alike in ap- 
pearance, with the demand that he should dis- 
tinguish them. Neither king nor counsellor 
could discern any difference ; but when the 
minister's daughter heard of their difficulty, 
she said, " Nothing is easier. Tie the two to- 
gether and put grass before them ; the mother 
will push the best before the foal." This was 
done ; the king decided accordingly, and the 
hostile ambassador owned that he was right. 
Soon after, the foreign prince sent two snakes, 
of the same size and form, and demanded which 
was male, which female. The king and his 
advisers were again in a quandary. The min- 
ister resorted to his daughter-in-law. She said, 
" Lay them both on cotton-wool : the female 
will lie quiet, the male not; for it is of the 
feminine nature to love the soft and the com- 
fortable, which the masculine cannot tolerate." 

* The resemblance to the Siberian tale is here especially 

t The Shukasaptati, in the form in which we have them, 
are supposed to date from about the 6th century, and are 

They followed these directions ; the king gave 
his verdict, the ambassador acquiesced, the 
minister received splendid presents. For a 
final trial the unfriendly king sent a long stick 
of wood, of equal thickness, with no knots or 
marks, and asked which was the under and 
which the upper end. No one could say. The 
minister referred the question to his daughter. 
She answered, " Put the stick into water : 
the root end will sink a little, the upper end 
float." The experiment was tried ; the king 
said to the ambassador, " This is the upper 
end, this the root end," to which he assented, 
and great presents were again given to the 
minister. The adverse monarch was convinced 
that his only safe course was peace and con- 
ciliation, and sent his ambassador back once 
more with an offering of precious jewels and 
of amity for the future. This termination was 
highly gratifying to Rabssaldschal, who said 
to his minister. How could you see through all 
these things ? The minister said, It was not 
I, but my clever daughter-in-law. When the 
king learned this, he raised the young woman 
to the rank of his younger sister. 

The wise daughter is not found in the San- 
skrit tale,t which also differs from the Bud- 
dhist versions in this : that in the Sanskrit the 
minister had become an object of displeasure 
to the king, and in consequence had long been 
lying in prison when the crisis occurred which 
rendered him indispensable, a circumstance 
which is repeated in the tale of The Wise Hey- 
kar (Arabian Nights, Breslau transl., xni, 
73 ff, Cabinet des F^es, xxxix, 266 ff) and 
in the Life of ^sop. But The Clever Wench 
reappears in another tale in the same Sanskrit 
collection (with that express title), and gives 
her aid to her father, a priest, who has been 
threatened with banishment by his king if he 
does not clear up a dark matter within five 
days. She may also be recognized in Morad- 
bak, in Von der Hagen's 1001 Tag, vni, 
199 ff, and even in the minister's wife in the 
story of The Wise Heykar. 

regarded as abridgments of longer tales. The Vinaya prob- 
ably took a permanent shape as early as the beginning of 
the Christian era. As already remarked, there is scarcely a 
doubt that the Indian story is some centuries older still. 



The tasks of discriminating dam and filly 
and the root end from the tip end of a stick, 
•which occur both in the Tibetan tales and 
the Shukasapfcati, are found again, with un- 
important changes, in the Wallachian popular 
story, and the Hungarian, which in general 
resemble the Arabic. Some of those in the 
Arabian tale and in the Life of -^sop are of 
the same nature as the wit-trials in the Servian 
and German popular tales, the story in the 
Gesta Romanorum, and the German and Eng- 
lish ballads. The wise Heykar, e. g., is re- 
quired to sew together a burst mill-stone. He 
hands the king a pebble, requesting him first 
to make an awl, a file, and scissors out of that. 
The king of Egypt tells ^sop, the king of 
Babylon's champion sage, that when his mares 
hear the stallions neigh in Babylon, they cast 
their foal. -ZEsop's slaves are told to catch a 
cat, and are set to scourging it before the 
Egyptian public. Great offense is given, on 
account of the sacred character of the animal, 
and complaint is made to the king, who sends 
for ^sop in a rage, ^sop says his king has 
suffered an injury from this cat, for the night 
before the cat had killed a fine fighting-cock 
of his. " Fie, jJEsop ! " says the king of Egypt; 
" how could the cat go from Egypt to Babylon 
in one night?" "Why not," replies ^sop, 
" as well as mares in Egypt hear the stallions 
neigh in Babylon and cast their foal ? " 

The tales in the Shukasaptati and in the 
Dsanglun represent the object of the sending 
of the tasks to be to ascertain whether the 
king retains the capable minister through 
whom he has acquired supremacy. According 
to the Arabian tale, and those derived from it, 
tribute is to be paid by the king whose rid- 
dles are guessed, or by him who fails to guess. 

* Amasis in return (8) puts some of the questions which 
we are apt to think of as peculiarly mediaeval : What is old- 
est ? What is most beautiful, biggest, wisest, strongest 1 etc. 
Two of these we have had in Zingerle's story. They are an- 
swered in a commonplace way by the ^thiop, with more re- 
finement by Thales. Seven similar questions were propounded 
by David to his sons, to determine who was worthiest to 
succeed him, and answered by Solomon, according to an 
Arabian writer of the 14th century: Kosenol, i, 167. Ama- 
sis also sent a victim to Bias (2), and asked him to cut out 
the best and worst of the flesh. Bias cut out the tongue. 
Here the two anticipate the Anglo-Saxon Salomon and Sat- 

This form of story, .though it is a secondary 
one, is yet by no means late, as is shown by 
the anecdote in Plutarch, Septem Sapientum 
Convivium (6), itself probably a fragment of 
such a ^story, in which the king of the ^thiops 
gives a task to Amasis, king of Egypt, with a 
stake of many towns and cities. This task is 
the favorite one of draining [drinking] all the 
water in the sea, which we have had in the 
Servian tale (it also is in the Life of ^Isop), 
and Bias gives the customary advice for deal- 
ing with it.* 

From the number of these wise virgins 
should not be excluded the king's daughter 
in the Gesta Romanorum who guesses rightly 
among the riddles of the three caskets and 
marries the emperor's son, though Bassanio 
has extinguished her just fame : Madden's 
Old English Versions, p. 238, No 66 ; Collier, 
Shakspere's Library, ii, 102. 

The first three or four stanzas of A-B form 
the beginning of ' Lady Isabel and the Elf- 
Knight,' and are especially appropriate to that 
ballad, but not to this. The two last stanzas of j 
A, B, make no kind of sense here, and these i 
at least, probably the opening verses as well, i 
must belong to some other and lost ballad. ) 
An elf setting tasks, or even giving riddles, i 
is unknown, I believe, in Northern tradition, 
and in no form of this story, except the Eng- | 
lish, is a preternatural personage of any kind | 
the hero. Still it is better to urge nothing more I 
than that the elf is an intruder in this par- 
ticular ballad, for riddle-craft is practised by 
a variety of preternatural beings : notoriously 
by Odin, Thor, the giant VafpruSnir, and the 
dwarf Alwfss in the Edda, and again by a 
German " berggeist " (Ey, Harzmarchenbuch, 
p. 64, * Die verwiinschte Prinzessin '), a Greek 

urn : " Tell me what is best and worst among men." " I tell 
thee word is best and worst : " Kemble, p. 1 88, No 37 ; 
Adrian and Ritheus, p. 204, No 43 ; and Bed» Collectanea, 
.p. 326. This is made into a very long story in the Life 
of -Sisop, 11. See other examples in Knust, Mitthcilungen 
aus dem Eskurial, p. 326 f, note b, and Nachtrag, p. 647 ; 
Oesterley's Kirchhof, v, 94, note to 3, 129; and Lands- 
berger, Die Fabeln des Sophos, ex, ff. We may add that 
Plutarch's question, Which was first, the bird or the 
egg 1 (Qusest. Conviv. 1. 2, q. 3), comes up again in The De- 
maundes Joyous, No 41, Kemble's Salomon and Saturn, 
p. 290. 



dragon (Habn, Griecbische u. Albanesische 
Mai-cben, n, 210), tbe Russian rusalka, tbe 
Servian vila,* tbe Indian raksbas. For exam- 
ple : a rusalka (water-nympb) pursues a pretty- 
girl, and says, I will give you tbree riddles : if 
you guess tbem, I will let you go bome to your 
fatber ; if you do not, I sball take you witb 
me. Wbat grows witbout a root ? Wbat runs 
witbout any object? Wbat blooms witbout 
any flower ? Sbe answers, Stones grow witb- 
out a root ; water runs witbout any object ; tbe 
fern blooms witbout any flower. Tbese an- 
swers seem satisfactory, as riddles go, but tbe 
ballad concludes (witb an injustice due to cor- 
ruption?), "Tbe girl did not guess tbe rid- 
dles; tbe rusalka tickled her to deatb." (Woj- 
cicki, Piesni, I, 205.) A raksbas (ogre) says 
he will spare a man's life if be can answer four 
questions, and sball devour him if he cannot. 
Wbat is cruel ? What is most to tbe advan- 
tage of a householder ? Wbat is love ? Wbat 
best accomplishes difl&cult things ? These ques- 
tions tbe man answers, and confirms his an- 
swers by tales, and gains tbe raksbas' good 
will. (Jacob, Hindoo Tales, or the Adven- 
tures of Ten Princes, a translation of the San- 
skrit Dasakumaracharitam, p. 260 ff.) 

Tbe auld man in J is simply tbe " unco 
knicht " of 1 C, D, over again. He has clearly 
displaced tbe elf-knight, for tbe elf's attributes 
of hill-haunting and magical music remain, 
only they have been transferred to the lady. 
That tbe devil should supplant the knight, 
•imco or familiar, is natural enough. He may 
come in as tbe substitute of the elfin knight 
because the devil is the regular successor to any 
heathen sprite, or as tbe embodiment of craft 

and duplicity, and to give us the pleasure of 
seeing him outwitted. We find tbe devil giv- 
ing riddles, as they are called (tasks), in the 
Grimms' K. u. H. marchen. No 125 (see also 
tbe note in vol. in) ; Proble's K. u. V. mar- 
chen. No 19 ; Vernaleken, Oesterreichiscbe K. 
u. H. marchen. No 37. He also appears as 
a riddle-monger in one of tbe best stories in 
tbe Golden Legend. A bishop, who was es- 
pecially devoted to St Andrew, was tempted 
by Satan under the semblance of a beautiful 
woman, and was all but lost, when a loud 
knocking was beard at tbe door. A pilgrim 
demanded admittance. Tbe lady, being asked 
her pleasure about this, recommended that 
tbree questions should be put to the stranger, 
to show whether he were fit to appear in such 
presence. Two questions having been an- 
swered unexceptionably, tbe fiend proposed a 
third, which was meant to be a clincher : How 
far is it from earth to heaven ? " Go back to 
him that sent you," said the pilgrim (none oth- 
er than St Andrew) to the messenger, " and 
say that be himself knows best, for be meas- 
ured tbe distance when be fell." Antiquus hos- 
tis de medio evanuit. Much tbe same is re- 
lated in tbe legend of St Bartholomew, and, 
in a Slovenian ballad, of St Ulricb, who inter- 
poses to save tbe Pope from espousing Satan 
in disguise. f 

J, K, L, have completely lost sight of tbe 
original story. 

Translated, after A, C, and D, in Grundt- 
vig's Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 251 ; 
R. Warrens, Scbottische Lieder der Vorzeit, p. 
8; Knortz, Lieder u. Romanzen Alt-Englands, 
No 54. 

* Afanasief, Poetic Views of the Slavonians about Na- 
ture, 1, 25. The poludnitsa seems to belong to the same 
class : Afanasief, iii, 76 ; Ralston, Songs of the Russian 
People, p. 147. 

t The legend of St Andrew in Legenda Aurea, Grasse, 
cap. 11, 9, p. 19 £E; also in the Fornsvenskt Legendarium, 
I, 143 ff; Zambrini, Leggende Inedite, ii, 94 fF; Pitre, 
Canti pop. Siciliani, ii, 232 ff: that of St Bartholomew, 
Grasse, p. 545, cap. cxxiii, 5, and in a German Passional, 

Mone's Anzeiger, 1839, viii, col. 319 f : that of St Uirich in 
Achazel and Korytko, i, 76, ' Sveti Ureh,' translated by A. 
Grtin, Volkslieder aus Krain, p. 136 ff. The third question 
and answer are in all the same. St Serf also has the credit 
of having baffled the devil by answering occult questions in 
divinity : Wintown's Scottish Chronicle, i, 131, v, 1238 ff, 
first pointed out by Motherwell, Minstrelsy, p. Ixxiv, who 
besides cites the legend of St Andrew. 


•"■ 9 ' Thou must shape it knife-and-sheerlesse, 

A broadside in black letter, " printed, I suppose," says . ■^'^ ^^so sue it needle-threedlesse.' 

Pinkerton, " about 1670," bound up with five other pieces at 
the end of a copy of Blind Harry's ' Wallace,' Edin. 1673, in 10 ' If that piece of courtesie I do to thee, 


the Pepysian Library 

My plaid awa, my plaid awa, 
And ore the hiU and far awa, 
And far awa to Norrowa, 
My plaid shall not be blown awa. 

1 The elphin knight sits on yon hUl, 

Ba, ba, ba, lUli ba 
He blaws his horn both lowd and shril. 
The wind hath blown my plaid awa 

2 He blowes it east, he blowes it west, 
He blowes it where he lyketh best. 

3 ' I wish that horn were in my kist. 
Yea, and the knight in my armes two.' 

4 She had no sooner these words said. 
When that the knight came to her bed. 

5 ' Thou art over young a maid,' quoth he, 
' Married with me thou il wouldst be.' 

6 ' I have a sister younger than I, 
And she was married yesterday.' 

7 ' Married with me if thou wouldst be, 
A courtesie thou must do to me. 

8 ' For thou must shape a sark to me, 
Without any cut or heme,' quoth he. 

Another thou must do to me. 

11 ' I have an aiker of good ley-land. 
Which lyeth low by yon sea-strand. 

12 ' For thou must eare it with thy horn, 
So thou must sow it with thy com. 

13 ' And bigg a cart of stone and lyme, 
Robin Redbreast he must trail it hame. 

14 ' Thou must barn it in a mouse-holl. 
And thrash it into thy shoes soil. 

15 ' And thou must winnow it in thy looff, 
And also seek it in thy glove. 

16 ' For thou must bring it over the sea, 
And thou must bring it dry home to me. 

17 ' When thou hast gotten thy turns well done, 
Then come to me and get thy sark then.' 

18 ' I '1 Jtiot quite my plaid for my life ; 
It haps my seven bairns and my wife.' 

The wind shall not blow my plaid awa 

J.9 * My maidenhead I '1 then keep still. 
Let the elphin knight do what he will.' 
The wind 's not blown my plaid awa 

A Collection of Curious Old Ballads, etc., p. 3. Partly 
from an old copy in black letter, and partly from the recita- 
tion of an old lady. 

My plaid awa, my plaid awa, 
And owre the hills and far awa, 
And far awa to Norrowa, 
My plaid shall not be blawn awa. 

1 The Elphin knight sits on yon hill, 
Ba, ba, ba, Ullie ba 
He blaws his horn baith loud and shrill. 
The wind hath blawn my plaid awa 

2 He blaws it east, he blaws it west, 
He blaws it where he liketh best. 

3 * I wish that horn were in my kist, 
Yea, and the knight in my arms niest.' 

4 She had no sooner these words said, 
Than the knight came to her bed. 

6 * Thou art oer yoimg a maid,' quoth he, 
* Married with me that thou wouldst be.' 

6 * I have a sister, younger than I, 
And she was married yesterday.' 



7 * Married with me if thou wouldst he, 
A curtisie thou must do to me. 

8 * It 's ye maun mak a sark to me, 
Without any cut or seam,' quoth he. 

9 * And ye maun shape it, knife-, sheerless. 
And also sew it needle-, threedless.' 

* 10 ' If that piece of courtisie I do to thee, 

Another thou must do to me. 

11 ' I have an aiker of good ley land. 
Which lyeth low hy yon sea strand. 

12 ' It 's ye maun till 't wi your touting horn. 
And ye maun saw 't wi the pepper corn. 

13 * And ye maim harrow 't wi a thorn. 
And hae your wark done ere the morn. 

14 * And ye maun shear it wi your knife, 
And no lose a stack o 't for your life. 

15 ' And ye maun stack it in a mouse hole, 
And ye maun thrash it in your shoe sole. 

16 ' And ye maun dight it in your loof, 
And also sack it in your glove. 

17 * And thou must bring it over the sea. 
Fair and clean and dry to me. 

18 * And when that ye have done your wark, 
Come back to me, and ye 'U get your sark.' 

19 ' I 'U not quite my plaid for my life ; 
It haps my seven bairns and my wife.' 

20 ' My maidenhead I 'U then keep still. 
Let the elphin knight do what he will. 


Kinloch's A. S. Ballads, p. 145. From the recitation of 
M. Kinnear, a native of Mearnsshire, 23 Aug., 1826. 

1 There stands a knicht at the tap o yon hill, 

Oure the hiUs and far awa 
He Jias blawn his horn loud and shill. 
The cauld wind 's blawn my plaid awa 

2 ' If I had the horn that I hear blawn. 
And the knicht that blaws that horn ! ' 

3 She had na sooner thae words said. 
Than the elfin knicht cam to her side. 

4 ' Are na ye oure young a may 
Wi onie young man doun to lie ? ' 

6 ' I have a sister younger than I, 
And she was married yesterday.* 

6 * Married wi me ye sail neer be nana 
TUl ye mak to me a sark but a seam. 

7 ' And ye maun shape it knife-, sheer-less, 
And ye maun sew it needle-, threed-less. 

8 * And ye maim wash it in yon cistran, 
Whare water never stood nor ran. 

9 ' And ye maun dry it on yon hawthorn, 
Whare the sun neer shon sin man was born.' 

10 ' Gin that courtesie I do for thee. 
Ye maun do this for me. 

11 ' Ye '11 get an acre o gude red-land 
Atween the saut sea and the sand. 

12 * I want that land for to be com. 
And ye maun aer it wi your horn. 

13 ' And ye maun saw it without a seed, 
And ye maun harrow it wi a threed. 

14 ' And ye maun shear it wi your knife, 
And na tyne a pickle o't for your life. 

15 ' And ye maun moue it in yon mouse-hole 
And ye maun thrash it in your shoe-sole. 

16 * And ye maun fan it wi your luves, 
And ye maun sack it in your gloves. 

17 ' And ye maun bring it oure the sea. 
Fair and clean and dry to me. 

18 * And whan that your wark is weill deen, 
Yese get your sark without a seam.' 



Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, ii, 296. 

1 The Elfin knight stands on yon hill, 

Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw 
Blawing his horn loud and shrill. 

And the wind has blawin my plaid awa 

2 ' If I had yon horn in my kist, 

And the bonny laddie here that I luve best! 

3 ' I hae a sister eleven years auld, 

And she to the young men's bed has made 

4 ' And I mysell am only nine, 

And oh ! sae fain, luve, as I woud be thine.' 

5 ' Ye maun make me a fine Holland sark, 
Without ony stitching or needle wark. 

6 ' And ye maun wash it in yonder well, 
Where the dew never wat, nor the rain ever 



7 ' And ye maun dry it upon a thorn 
That never budded sin Adam was born.' 

8 ' Now sin ye 've askd some things o me, 
It 's right I ask as mony o thee. 

9 ' My father he askd me an acre o land. 
Between the saut sea and the strand. 

10 ' And ye maun plow 't wi your blawing horn. 
And ye maun saw 't wi pepper com. 

11 ' And ye maun harrow 't wi a single tyne, 
And ye maim shear 't wi a sheep's shank bane. 

12 ' And ye maun big it in the sea. 
And bring the stathle dry to me. 

13 * And ye maun bam 't in yon mouse hole. 
And ye maun thrash 't in your shee sole. 

14 ' And ye maun sack it in your gluve. 
And ye maim winno 't in your leuve. 

15 ' And ye maun dry 't without candle or coal. 
And grind it without quim or mill. 

16 ' Ye 'U big a cart o stane and lime. 
Gar Robin Redbreast trail it syne. 

17 ' When ye 've dune, and finishd your wark. 
Ye '11 come to me, luve, and get your sark.' 


Motherwell's MS., p. 492. 

1 The Elfin Knight sits on yon hill, 
Ba ba lilly ba 
Blowing his horn loud and shill. » 

And the wind has blawn my plaid awa 

2 ' I love to hear that horn blaw ; 

I wish him [here] owns it and a'.' 

3 That word it was no sooner spoken, 
Than Elfin Knight in her arms was gotten. 

4 ' You must mak to me a sark, 
Without threed, sheers or needle wark.' 

Kinloch MSS, i, 75. From Mary Barr, 

1 ' Did ye ever travel twixt Berwick and Lyne ? 

Sober and grave grows merry in time 
There ye 'U meet wi a handsome young dame, 
Ance she was a true love o mine. 

2 ' Tell her to sew me a hoUand sark. 
And sew it all without needle-wark : 

And syne we 'U be true lovers again. 

3 ' Tell her to wash it at yon spring-well, 
Where neer wind blew, nor yet rain felL 

4 ' Tell her to dry it on yon hawthorn, 
That neer sprang up sin Adam was bom. 

5 ' TeU her to iron it wi a hot iron. 
And plait it a' in ae plait round.' 

6 ' Did ye ever travel twixt Berwick and Lyne ? 
There ye '11 meet wi a handsome young man, 

Ance he was a true lover o mine. 



7 < Tell him to plough me an acre o land 
Betwixt the sea-side hot and the sea-sand, 

And syne we '11 be true lovers again. 

8 ' Tell him to saw it wi ae peck o corn, 
And harrow it a* wi ae harrow tine. 

9 ' Tell him to shear it wi ae hook-tooth, 
And carry it hame just into his loof . 


Gammer Gurton's Garland, p. 3, ed. 1810. 

1 ' Can you make me a cambrick shirt, 

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme 
Without any seam or needle work ? 
And you shall be a true lover of mine 

2 * Can you wash it in yonder well. 

Where never sprung water nor rain ever fell ? 

3 ' Can you dry it on yonder thorn, 

Which never bore blossom since Adam was 
born ? 

10 ' Tell him to stack it in yon mouse-hole, 
And thrash it a' just wi his shoe-sole. 

11 ' Tell him to d»y it on yon ribless kiln. 
And grind it a' in yon waterless miln. 

12 Tell this young man, whan he 's finished his 

He may come to me, and hese get his sark.' 

4 ' Now you have askd me questions three, 
I hope you '11 answer as many for me. 

5 ' Can you find me an acre of land 
Between the salt water and the sea sand ? 

6 * Can you plow it with a ram's horn, 
And sow it all over with one pepper com ? 

7 ' Can you reap it with a sickle of leather. 
And bind it up with a peacock's feather ? 

8 ' When you have done, and finishd your work. 
Then come to me for your cambrick shirt.> 


Motherwell's MS., p. 92. 

5 ' Thou hast asked me questions three ; 
Sit down till I ask as many of thee. 

6 ' Thou must buy me an acre of land 
Betwixt the salt water, love, and the sea-sand. 

7 ' Thou must plow it wi a ram's horn, 
And sow it all over wi one pile o com. 

8 ' Thou must shear it wi a strap o leather. 
And tie -it all up in a peacock feather. 

9 ' Thou must stack it in the sea, 

And bring the stale o 't hame dry to me. 
4 * Thou must dry it on yonder thorn, 

Where the sun never shined on since Adam IQ ' When my love 's done, and finished his work, 
was formed.' Let him come to me for his cambric smock.' 

1 * Come, pretty Nelly, and sit thee down by me, 

Every rose grows merry wi thyme 
And I will ask thee questions three. 

And then thou wilt be a true lover of mine. 

2 ' Thou must buy me a cambrick smock 
Without any stitch of needlework. 

3 ' Thou must wash it in yonder strand. 
Where wood never grew and water neer ran. 

Motherwell's MS., p. 103. From the recitation of John 
McWhinnie, collier, Newtown Green, Ayr. 

1 A TiADY wonned on yonder hill, 
Hee ba and balou ba 

And she had musick at her will. 

And the wind has blown my plaid awa 

2 Up and cam an auld, auld man, 
Wi his blue bonnet in his han. 



3 ' I will ask ye questions three ; 
Resolve them, or ye '11 gang wi me. 

4 ' Ye maun mak to me a sark, 

It maun be free o woman's wark. 

5 ' Ye maun shape it knife- sheerless, 
And ye maun sew it needle- threedless. 

6 ' Ye maun wash it in yonder well, 
Whare rain nor dew has ever fell. 

7 * Ye maun dry it on yonder thorn, 
Where leaf neer grew since man was bom.' 

8 * I will ask ye questions three ; 
Resolve them, or ye '11 neer get me. 

9 ' I hae a rig o bonnie land 
Atween the saut sea and the sand. 

10 ' Ye maun plow it wi ae horse bane. 
And harrow it wi ae harrow pin. 

11 * Ye maun shear 't wi a whang o leather. 
And ye maun bind 't hot strap or tether. 

12 * Ye maun stack it in the sea, 

And bring the stale hame dry to me. 

13 ' Ye maun mak a cart o stane. 

And yoke the wren and bring it hame. 

14 ' Ye maun thresh 't atween your lufes, 
And ye maun sack 't atween your thies.' 

16 ' My curse on those wha learned thee ; 
This night I weend ye 'd gane wi me.' 

Communicated by Rev. F. D. Huntington, Bishop of 
Western New York, as sung to him by his father in 1828, at 
Hadley, Mass. ; derived from a rough, roystering " character " 
in the town. 

1 Now you are a-going to Cape Ann, 

Remember me to the self-same man. 

Ummatiddle, ummatiddle, ummatallyho, tal- 
lyho, foUomingkatheUomeday 

2 TeU him to buy me an acre of land 
Between the salt-water and the sea-sand. 

3 Tell him to plough it with a ram's horn, 
TeU him to sow it with one peppercorn. 

4 Tell him to reap it with a penknife. 
And tell him to cart it with two mice. 

5 Tell him to cart it to yonder new bam 
That never was built since Adam was bom. 

6 Tell him to thrash it with a goose quill, 
Tell him to fan it with an egg-shell. 

7 Tell the fool, when he 's done his work, 
To come to me, and he shall have his shirt. 

Halliwell's Nursery Rhymes of England, 6th ed., p. 109, 
No 171. 

1 My father left me three acres of land. 

Sing ivy, sing ivy 
My father left me three acres of land. 
Sing holly, go whistle and ivy 

2 I ploughed it with a ram's horn, 

And sowed it all over with one pepper com. 

3 I harrowed it with a bramble bush, 
Arid reaped it with my little penknife. 

4 I got the mice to carry it to the bam, 
And thrashed it with a goose's quill. 

6 I got the cat to carry it to the mill ; 

The mUler he swore he would have her paw, 
And the cat she swore she would scratch his 



Notes and Queries, 1st S., vii, 8. Signed D. 

1 Mt father gave me an acre of land, 

Sing ivy, sing ivy 
My father gave me an acre of land. 
Sing green bush, holly and ivy 

2 I ploughd it with a ram's horn. 

3 I harrowd it with a bramble. 

4 I sowd it with a pepper corn. 

5 I reapd it with my penknife. 

6 I carried it to the miU upon the cat's back. 

* * * * 

7 I made a cake for all the king's men. 

A. The verses here prefixed to the ballad are ap- 
pended to the last stanza in the broadside. 
For Norrowa, v. 3, Pinkerton has To-morrow. 
9^, needle and sheerlesse. 

B. ' A Proper New Ballad entitled The Wind hath 

blawn my Plaid awa, or a Discourse between a 
Young "Woman and the Elphin Knight. To be 
sung with its own proper tune.' 
" This baUad is printed partly from an old copy 
in black letter, and partly from the recitation 
of an old lady, which appears to be the Scot- 
tish version, and is here chiefly adhered to." 
D. 3^^. hae made. 

9^. askd shmdd perhaps be left, or gave, as in 

B. Burden^, in MS., 1, blown her ; 2, 3, blawn 

her ; 4, blawn my. 

2^, blow ; 2% and a. 
H. 1^. He speaks, in the margin of MS. 

Burden^, time in margin. 

5K Maid speaks, in margin. 
I. Not divided regidarly into stanzas in the MS. 

4^^. needlewark in margin. 

10^. shin ? in margin. 
L. After 6 : " Then follows some more which I 

forget, but I think it ends thus." 


A. ' The Fause Knight upon the Road,' Motherwell's B. * The False Knight,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Ap- 
Minstrelsy, Introduction, p. Ixxiv. pendix, Musick, p. xxiv. 

This singular ballad is known only through 
Motherwell. The opening stanza of a second 
version is given by the editor of the music, Mr. 
y Blaikie, in the Appendix to the Minstrelsy. 
The idea at the bottom of the piece is that the 
devil will carry off the wee boy if he can non- 
plus him. So, in certain humororfs stories, 
a fool wins a princess by dumfounding her : 
e. g., Halliwell's Popular Rhymes and Nursery 
Tales, p. 32 ; Von der Hagen's Gesammtaben- 
teuer, No 63, iii, 179; Asbjernsen og Moe, 
Norske Folkeeventyr, No 4. But here the 

boy always gets the last word. (See further 
on, under ' Captain Wedderburn's Courtship.') 
An extremely curious Swedish ballad of the 
same description, from the Lappfiord, Finland, 
with the substitution of an old crone, possibly 
a witch, and clearly no better than one of the 
wicked, for the false knight, is given by Oskar 
Rancken in Nagra Prof af Folks§,ng och Saga 
i det svenska Osterbotten, p. 25, No 10. It is 
a point in both that the replicant is a wee 
boy (gossen, som liten var). 

Why are you driving over my field ? ' said the 

carlin : 
Becatfse the way lies over it,' answered the boy, 

who was a little fellow. 

I will cut [hew] your traces,' said etc. : 
Yes, you hew, and I 'U buUd,' answered etc. 

I wish you were in the wild wood : ' 
Yes, you in, and I outside.' 

I wish you were in the highest tree-top : ' 
Yes, you up in the top, and I at the roots.' 

I wish you were in the wild sea : ' 
Yes, you in the sea, and I in a boat.' 

I '11 bore a hole in your boat : ' 
Yes, you bore, and I '11 plug.' 

I wish you were in hell : ' 
Yes, you in, and I outside.' 

I wish you were in heaven : ' 
Yes, I in, and you outside.' 

Chambers, in his Popular Rhymes of Scot- 
land, p. 66 of the new edition, gives, without 
a word of explanation, a piece, ' Harpkin,' 
which seems to have been of the same char- 
acter, but now sounds only like a " flyting." * 
The first stanza would lead us to expect that 
Harpkin is to be a form of the Elfin Knight 
of the preceding ballad, but Fin is seen to be 
the uncanny one of the two by the light of the 
other ballads. Finn (Fin) is an ancestor of 
Woden, a dwarf in Voluspd 16 (19), and also 
a trold (otherwise a giant), who is induced by 
a saint to build a church : Thiele, Danske 
Folkesagn, i, 45, Grimm, Mythologie, p. 455. 
The name is therefore diabolic by many ante- 


1 Harpkest gaed up to the hiU, 
And blew his horn loud and shrill. 
And by came Fin. 

* At the last moment I come upon this : " The only safe- 
guard against the malice of witches ia ' to flight wi dem/ 
that is, draw them into a controversy and scold them round- 
ly : " (Mrs Saxby, in an interesting contribution of folk-lore 
from Unst, Shetland, in The Leisure Hour, for March 27, 









What for stand you there ? ' quo Fin : 
Spying the weather,' quo Harpkin. 

What for had you your staff on your shou- 

ther ? ' quo Fin : 
To haud the cauld frae me,' quo Harpkin. 

Little cauld will that haud frae you,' quo Fin : 
As little will it win through me,' quo Harp- 

I came by your door,' quo Fin : 
It lay in your road,' quo Harpkin. 

Your dog barkit at me,' quo Fin : 

It 's his use and custom,' quo Harpkin. 

I flang a stane at him,* quo Fin : 

I 'd rather it had been a bane,' quo Harpkin. 

Your wife 's lichter,' quo Fin : 
She '11 dim the brae the brichter,' quo Harp- 

Of a braw lad bairn,' quo Fin : 
There 'U be the mair men for the king's wars,' 
quo Harpkin. 

There 's a strae at your beard,' quo Fin : 
I 'd rather it had been a thrave,' quo Harp- 

The ox is eating at it,' quo Fin : 

If the ox were i the water,' quo Harpkin. 

And the water were frozen,' quo Fin : 
And the smith and his fore-hammer at it,' quo 

And the smith were dead,' quo Fin : 
And another in his stead,' quo Harpkin. 

Giff, gaff,' quo Fin : 

Your mou 's fou o draff,' quo Harpkin. 

The peit (peat) in st. 3, below, as I am in- 
formed by Dr Davidson, is the wee boy's con- 
tribution to the school firing. 

1880, p. 199.) This view, which has apparently affected 
' Harpkin,' is clearly a modern misunderstanding. Let no 
one trust to scolding for foiling a witch, unless he " knows 
more words." 



Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Introduction, p. Ixxiv. From 

1 * WHARE are ye gaun ? ' 

Quo the fause knicht upon the road : 

* I 'm gaun to the scule,' 

Quo the wee boy, and still he stude. 

2 ' What is that upon your back ? ' quo etc. 
' Atweel it is my bukes,' quo etc. 

3 ' What 's that ye 've got in your arm ? ' 

* Atweel it is my peit.' 

4 ' Wha 's aucht they sheep ? ' 

' They are mine and my mither's.' 

How monie o them are mine ? ' 
A' they that hae blue taQs.' 

I wiss ye were on yon tree : ' 
And a gude ladder under me.' 

And the ladder for to break : ' 
And you for to fa down.' 

I wiss ye were in yon sie : ' 
And a gude bottom under me.' 

And the bottom for to break : ' 
And ye to be drowned.' 


Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xxiv, No xxxii. 

* O WHARE are ye gaun ? ' quo the false knight, 
And false, false was his rede : 

* I 'm gaun to the scule,' says, the pretty little 
And stUl, still he stude. 


A. a. * The Gowans sae gay,' Buchan's Ballads of the 
North of Scotland, i, 22. b. ' Aye as the Gowans 
grow gay,' Motherwell's MS., p. 563. 

B. ' The Water o Wearie's Well.' a. Buchan's MSS, 
II, fol. 80. b. Buchan's B. N. S., ii, 201. c. Moth- 
erwell's MS., p. 561. d. ' Wearie's Wells,' Harris 
MS., No 19. 

C. a. ' May Colven,' Herd's MSS, i, 166. b. ' May 
Colvin,' Herd's Scottish Songs, 1776, i, 93. c. ' May 
Colvin, or, False Sir John,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, 
p. 67. 

D. a. ' May Collin,' Sharpe's Ballad Book, No 1 7, p. 
45. b. ' Fause Sir John and May Colvin,' Buchan, 
B. N. S., II, 45. c. 'May Collean,' Motherwell's 
Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xxi. 

E. ' The Outlandish Knight,' Dixon, Ancient Poems, 
Ballads, etc., p. 74 = Bell, Ancient Poems, Ballads, 
etc., p. 61. 

F. ' The False Knight Outwitted,' Roxburgh Ballads, 
British Museum, iii, 449. 3W'<- '^ 

Of all ballads this has perhaps obtained the Scandinavians, preserve it, in a full and evi- 

widest circulation. It is nearly as well known dently ancient form, even in the tradition of 

to the southern as to the northern nations of this generation. Among the Latin nations it 

Europe. It has an extraordinary currency in has, indeed, shrunk to very meagre proportions, 

Poland. The Germans, Low and High, and the and though the best English forms are not 




without ancient and distinctive marks, most of 
these have been eliminated, and the better 
ballads are very brief. 

A has but thirteen two-line stanzas. An 
elf-knight, by blowing his horn, inspires Lady 
Isabel with love-longing. He appears on her 
first breathing a wish for him, and induces 
her to ride with him to the greenwood.* Ar- 
rived at the wood, he bids her alight, for 
she is come to the place where she is to die. 
He had slain seven kings' daughters there, 
and she should be the eighth. She persuades 
him to sit down, with his head on her knee, 
lulls him asleep with a charm, binds him with 
his own sword-belt, and stabs him with his 
own dagger, saying. If seven kings' daugh- 
ters you have slain, lie here a husband to them 

B, in fourteen four-line stanzas, begins unin- 
telligibly with a bird coming out of a bush for 
water, and a king's daughter sighing, " Wae 's 
this heart o mine." A personage not charac- 
terized, but evidently of the same nature as the 
elf-knight in A, lulls everybody but this king's 
daughter asleep with his harp,f then mounts 
her behind him, and rides to a piece of water 
called Wearie's Well. He makes her wade 
in up to her chin ; then tells her that he has 
drowned seven kings' daughters here, and she 

* ' The Elfin Knight ' begins very much like A, but per- 
haps has borrowed its opening stanzas from this ballad. See 
page 13. 

t The second stanza, which describes the harping, occurs 
again in ' Glenkindie ' (st. 6). 

J Perhaps the change from wood, A, to water, B-F, was 
made under the influence of some Merman ballad, or by ad- 
mixture with such a ballad ; e. g., ' Nakkens Svig,' Grundt- 
vig, No 39. In this (A) the nix entices a king's daughter 
away from a dance, sets her on his horse, and rides with her 
over the heath to a wild water, into which she sinks. It is 
also quite among possibilities that there was originally an 
English nix ballad^ in which the king's daughter saved her- 
self by some artifice, not, of course, such as is employed in B- 
P, but like that in A, or otherwise. Maid Heiemo, in Land- 
stad. No 39, kills a nix with " one of her small knives." Had 
she put him to sleep with a charm, and killed him with his 
own knife, as Lady Isabel does, there would have been noth- 
ing to shock credibility in the story. 

Aytoun, Ballads of Scotland, i, 219, 2d ed., hastily pro- 
nounces Buchan's ballad not authentic, " being made up of 
stanzas borrowed from versions of ' Burd Helen ' [' Child 
Waters']." There are, indeed, three successive steps into the 
water in both ballads, but Aytoun should have bethought 
himself how natural and how common it is for a passage to 

is to be the eighth. She asks him for one kiss 
before she dies, and, as he bends over to give 
it, pitches him from his saddle into the water, 
with the words. Since ye have drowned seven 
here, I '11 make you bridegroom to them all. J 

C was first published by David Herd, in the 
second edition of his Scottish Songs, 1776, and 
afterwards by Motherwell, " collated " with a 
copy obtained from recitation. D,§ E, P are 
all broadside or stall copies, and in broadside 
style. C, D, B, P have nearly the same story. 
False Sir John, a knight from the south coun- 
try [west country, north lands], entices May 
Colven, C, D [a king's daughter, C 16, E 16 ; 
a knight's daughter, Polly, P 4, 9], to ride off 
with him, employing, in D, a charm which he ^ 
has stuck in her sleeve. At the knight's sug- 
gestion, E, P, she takes a good sum of money 
with her, D, E, P. They come to a lonely 
rocky place by the sea [river-side, PJ, and the 
knight bids her alight : he has drowned seven 
ladies here [eight D, six E, Pj, and she shall 
be the next. But first she is to strip off her 
rich clothes, as being too good to rot in the 
sea. She begs him to avert his eyes, for de- 
cency's sake, and, getting behind him, throws 
him into the water. In F he is absurdly sent 
for a sickle, to crop the nettles on the river So 
brim, and is pushed in while thus occupied. 

slip from one ballad into another, when the circomstances of ' 
the story are the same ; and in some such cases no one can ' 
say where the verses that are common originally belonged. ; 
Here, indeed, as Grundtvig remarks, iv, 7, note*, it may 
well be that the verses in question belonged originally to 
'Burd Helen,' and were adopted (but in the processes of tra- 
dition) into ' The Water of Wearie's Well ; ' for it must be 
admitted that the transaction in the water is not a happy 
conception in the latter, since it shocks probability that the 
woman should be able to swim ashore, and the man not. 

§ " This ballad appears modem, from a great many ex- 
pressions, but yet I am certain that it is old : the present 
copy came from the housekeeper at Methven." Note by 
Sharpe, in Laing's ed. of the Ballad Book, 1880, p. 130, 
xvii. Motherwell, in his Minstrelsy, p. Ixx, n. 24, says that 
he had seen a stall ballad as early as 1749, entitled 'The 
Western Tragedy,' which perfectly agreed with Sharpe's 
copy. But in his Note-Book, p. 5 (about 1826-7), Mother- 
well says, " The best copy of May Colean with which I 
have met occurs in a stall copy printed about thirty years 
ago [should we then read 1799 instead of 1749 ?], under the 
title of ' The Western Tragedy.' I have subsequently seen 
a posterior reprint of this stall copy under this title, ' The 
Historical Ballad of May Collean.' In Mr. Sharpe's Ballad 
Book, the same copy, wanting only one stanza, is given." 

t^. I 



He cries for help, and makes fair promises, C, 
E, but the maid rides away, with a bitter jest 
[on his steed, D, leading his steed, E, PJ, and 
reaches her father's house before daybreak. 
The groom inquires in D about the strange 
horse, and is told that it is a found one. The 
parrot asks what she has been doing, and is 
silenced with a bribe ; and when the father 
demands why he was chatting so early, says 
he was calling to his mistress to take away 
the cat. Here C, B, F stop, but D goes on to 
relate that the maid at once tells her parents 
what has happened, and that the father rides 
off at dawn, under her conduct, to find Sir 
John. They carry off the corpse, which lay 
on the sands below the rocTcs, and bury it, for 
fear of discovery. 

There is in Hone's Table Book, in, 130, 
ed. 1841, a rifacimento by Dixon of the com- 
mon English broadside in what passes for old- 
ballad style. This has been repeated in Rich- 
ardson's Borderer's Table Book, vi, 367 ; in 
Dixon's Scottish Traditional Versions of An- 
cient Ballads, p. 101 ; and, with alterations, 
additions, and omissions, in Sheldon's Min- 
strelsy of the English Border, p. 194. 

Jamieson (1814) had never met with this 
ballad in Scotland, at least in anything like a 
perfect state ; but he says that a tale to the 
same effect, intermixed with scraps of verse, 
was familiar to him when a boy, and that he 
afterwards found it, " in much the same state, 
in the Highlands, in Lochaber and Ardna- 
murchan." According to the tradition re- 
ported by Jamieson, the murderer had seduced 
the younger sister of his wife, and was seeking 
to prevent discovery, a difference in the story 
which might lead us to doubt the accuracy of 
Jamieson's recollection. (Illustrations of North- 
em Antiquities, p. 348.) 

Stories like that of this ballad will inevi- 
tably be attached, and perhaps more or less 
adapted, to localities where they become 
known. May CoUean, says Chambers, Scot- 
tish Ballads, p. 232, note, " finds locality in 
that wild portion of the coast of Carrick (Ayr- 
shire) which intervenes betwixt Girvan and 
Ballantrae. Carlton Castle, aboyt two miles 
to the south of Girvan (a taU old ruin, situ- 

ated on the brink of a bank which overhangs 
the sea, and which gives title to Sir John 
Cathcart, Bart, of Carlton), is affirmed by the 
country people, who still remember the story 
with great freshness, to have been the resi- 
dence of ' the fause Sir John ; ' while a tall 
rocky eminence called Gamesloup, overhang- 
ing the sea about two miles still further south, 
and over which the road passes in a style ter- 
rible to all travellers, is pointed out as the 
place where he was in the habit of drowning 
his wives, and where he was finally drowned 
himself. The people, who look upon the bal- 
lad as a regular and proper record of an un- 
questionable fact, farther affirm that May Col- 
lean was a daughter of the family of Kennedy 
of Colzean," etc. Binyan's (Bunion) Bay, in 
D, is, according to Buchan, the old name of 
the mouth of the river Ugie. 

Far better preserved than the English, and 
marked with very ancient and impressive traits, 
is the Dutch ballad ' Halewijn,' which, not 
many years ago, was extensively sung in Bra- 
bant and Flanders, and is still popular as a 
broadside, both oral tradition and printed cop- 
ies exhibiting manifold variations. A version 
of this ballad (A) was communicated by Wil- 
lems to Mone's Anzeiger in 1836, col. 448 £f, 
thirty-eight two-line stanzas, and afterwards 
appeared in Willems's Oude vlaemsche Lie- 
deren (1848), No 49, p. 116, with some changes 
in the text and some various readings. Uh- 
land, I, 153, 74 D, gave the Anzeiger text, 
with one correction. So Hoffmann, Nieder- 
landische Volkslieder, 2d ed.. No 9, p. 39, but 
substituting for stanzas 19, 20 four stanzas 
from the margin of O. v. L., and making other 
slighter changes. Baecker, Chants historiques 
de la Flandre, No 9, p. 61, repeats Willems's 
second text, with one careless omission and 
one transposition. Coussemaker, Chants pop- 
ulaires des Flamands de France, No 45, p. 142, 
professes to give the text of Oude vlaemsche 
Liederen, and does so nearly. Snellaert, Oude 
en nieuwe Liedjes, 3d ed., 1864, No 55, p. 58, 
inserts seven stanzas in the place of 33, 34 of 
O. V. L., and two after 35, making forty-five 
two- (or three-) line stanzas instead of thirty- 
eight. These additions are also found in an 



excessively corrupt form of the ballad (B), 
Hoffmann, No 10, p. 43, in which the stanzas 
/ have been uniformly extended to three verses, 
to suit the air, which required the repetition 
of the second line of the original stanza. 

Heer Halewijn (A), like the English elf- 
knight, sang such a song that those who heard 
it longed to be with him. A king's daughter 
asked her father if she might go to Halewijn. 
No, he said; those who go that way never 
come back [sixteen have lost their lives, B]. 
So said mother and sister, but her brother's 
answer was, I care not where you go, so long 
as you keep your honor. She dressed herself 
splendidly, took the best horse from her fa- 
ther's stable, and rode to the wood, where she 
found Halewijn waiting for her.* They then 
rode on further, till they came to a gallows, 
on which many women were hanging. Hale- 
wijn says. Since you are the fairest maid, 
choose your death [B 20 offers the choice be- 
tween hanging and the sword]. She calmly 
chooses the sword. " Only take off your coat 
first, for a maid's blood spirts a great way, 
and it would be a pity to spatter you." His 
head was off before his coat, but the tongue 
still spake. This dialogue ensues : 

* Go yonder into the corn, 
And blow upon my horn, 

That all my friends you may warn.' 

* Into the com I will not go, 
And on your horn I wiU not blow : 
A murderer's bidding T wiU. not do.' 

* Go yonder under the gallows-tree, 
And fetch a pot of salve for me, 
And rub my red neck lustily.' 

* According to , the variation given by Willems, and 
adopted by Hoffmann, Halewijn's son came to meet her, 
tied her horse to a tree, and bade her to sit down by him 
and loose her hair. For every hair she undid she dropped a 
tear. But it will presently be seen not only that the time 
has not come for them to sit down, but that Halewijn's bid- 
ding her undo her hair (to no purpose) is a perversion of 
her offering to " red " his, to get him into her power, an offer 
which she makes in the German and Scandinavian ballads, 
where also there is good reason for her tears, but none as 
yet here. 

t J. W. Wolf, Deutsche Marchen u. Sagen, No 29, p. 143, 
gives the story according to B, apparently from a ballad like 

* Under the gallows I will not go, 
Nor will I rub your red neck, no, 
A murderer's bidding I will not do.' 

She takes the head by the hair and washes 
it in a spring, and rides back through the 
wood. Half-way through she meets Hale- 
wijn's mother, who asks after her son ; and 
she tells her that he is gone hunting, that he 
will never be seen again, that he is dead, and 
she has his head in her lap. When she came 
to her father's gate, she blew the horn like any 

And when the father heard the strain, 
He was glad she had come back again. 

Thereupon they held a feast, 
The head was on the table placed. 

Snellaert's copy and the modern three-line 
ballad have a meeting with father, brother, 
sister, and mother successively. The maid's 
answer to each of the first three is that Hale- 
wijn is amusing himself with sixteen maids, 
or to that effect, but to the mother that he is 
dead, and she has his head in her lap. The 
mother angrily replies, in B, that if she had 
given this information earlier she would not 
have got so far on her way home. The maid 
retorts. Wicked woman, you are lucky not to 
have been served as your son ; then rides, 
"like Judith wise," straight to her father's 
palace, where she blows the horn blithely, and 
is received with honor and love by the whole 

Another Flemish version (C) has been late- 
ly published under the title, ' Roland,' by 
which only, we are informed, is this particular 
form known in Bruges and many parts of 

Snellaert's. So Luise v. Ploennies, Reiseerinnerungen aus 
Belgian, p. 38. 

Halewyn makes his appearance again in the Flemish bal- 
lad, ' Halewyn en het kleyne Kind,' Coussemaker, No 46, p. 
149 ; Poesies populaires de la France, vol. i. A boy of seven 
years has shot one of Halewyn's rabbits, and is for this 
condemned to be hanged on the highest tree in the park. 
The father makes great offers for his ransom, but in vain. 
On the first step of the ladder the child looks back for bis 
mother, on the second for his father, on the third for his 
brother, on the fourth for his sister, each of whom succes- 
sively arrives and is told that delay would have cost him 
his life. It will presently be seen that there is a resemblance 
here to German ballads (Q-X, Z). 





Flanders : * Chants populaires recueillis ^ 
Bruges par Adolphe Lootens et J. M. E. Feys, 
No 37, p. CO, 183 vv, in sixty-three stanzas, of 
two, three, four, or five lines. This text dates 
from the last century, and is given with the 
most exact fidelity to tradition. It agrees with 
A as to some main points, but differs not a 
little as to others. The story sets out thus: 

It was a bold Roland, 
He loved a lass from England ; 
He wist not how to get her, 
With reading or with writing, 
With brawling or with fighting. 

Roland has lost Halewyn's art of singing. 
Louise asks her father if she may go to Roland, 
to the fair, as all her friends do. Her father 
refuses : Roland is " een stoute kalant," a bad 
fellow that betrays pretty maids; he stands 
with a drawn sword in his hand, and all his 
soldiers in armor. The daughter says she has 
seen Roland more than once, and that the tale 
about the drawn sword and soldiers is not true. 
This scene is exactly repeated with mother and 
brother. Louise then tries her shrift- father. 
He is easier, and does not care where she 
goes, provided she keeps her honor and does 
not shame her parents. She tells father, mother, 
and brother that she has leave from her con- 
fessor, makes her toilet as in A, takes the finest 
horse in the stable, and rides to the wood. 
There she successively meets Roland's father, 
mother, and brother, each of whom asks her 
where she is going, and whether she has any 
right to the crown she wears. To all she re- 
plies. Whether I have or not, be off ; I know 
you not. She does not encounter Roland in 
the wood, they do not ride together, and there 
is no gallows-field. She enters Roland's house, 
where he is lying abed. He bids her gather 

three rose- wreaths " at his hands " and three at 
his feet ; but when she approaches the foot of 
the bed he rises, and offers her the choice to 
lose her honor or kneel before the sword. She 
chooses the sword, advises him to spare his 
coat, and, while he is taking it off, strikes off 
his head, all as in A. The head speaks : Go 
under the gallows (of which we have heard 
nothing hitherto), fetch a pot of salve, rub 
it on my wounds, and they shall straight be 
well. She declines to follow a murderer's 
rede, or to learn magic. The head bids her 
go under the blue stone and fetch a pot of 
maidens-grease, which also will heal the 
wounds. This again she refuses to do, in the 
same terms ; then seizes the head by the hair, 
washes it in a spring, and rides off with it 
through the wood, duly meeting Roland's fa- 
ther, mother, and brother once more, all of 
whom challenge her, and to all of whom she 

Roland your son is long ago dead ; 
God has his soul and I his head ; 
For in my lap here I have his head, 
And with the blood my apron is red. 

When she came back to the city the drums 
and the trumpets struck up.f She stuck the 
head out of the window, and cried, " Now I 
am Roland's bride ! " She drew it in, and 
cried, " Now I am a heroine ! " 

Danish. Eleven versions of this ballad are 
known in Danish, seven of which are given in 
Danmarks gatnle Folkeviser, No 183, ' Kvin- 
demorderen,' A-G. Four more, H-L, are fur- 
nished by Kristensen, Jydske Folkeviser, i, 
Nos 46, 47, 91 ; ii. No 85. A, in forty-one 
two-line stanzas (previously printed in Grundt- 
vig's Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 233), 
is from a 16th century MS. ; B, thirty stanzas, '^ 

* " La chanson de Halewyn, telle k pen pr^s que la donnent 
Willems, Snellaert et de Coussemaker, se vend encore sur 
le marche' de Bruges. Quoiqu'elle porte pour litre Halewyn, 
jamais notre piece n'a ete connue ici sous ce nom. Le nom 
de Halewijn, Alewijn ou Alwin ... est reserve au heros de 
la piece suivante" [Mi Add en Hir Alewijn]. Lootens et 
Feys, p. 66. " D est a regretter que Willems et de Cous- 
semaker n'aient pas juge a propos de donner cette piece telle 
que le peuple I'a conserve'e ; on serait sans aucun doute en 
possession de variantes remarquablee, et les lacanes qui ex- 

istent dans notre version n'enssent pas manqu^ 4'etre com 
blees. II est bon d'insister sur la remarque faite ^ la suite 
de la chanson, qu'a Bruges et dans beaucoup de localites de 
la Flandre, elle n'est connue que sous le litre de Roland. 
Ajoutons que notre texte appartient au dernier si^cle." L. 
et F., 295. 

t So in ' Liebe ohne Stand,' one of the mixed forms of 
the German ballad, Wunderhorn, Erk i, 41, Crecelius, i, 36, 

Und als es nun kam an den dritten Tag, 
Da gingen die Pfeiffen und Trommein an. 



C, twenty-four, D, thirty-seven, from MSS of 
the 17th century ; E, fifty-seven, from a broad- 
side of the end of the 18th ; F, thirty, from 
one of the beginning of the 19th ; and G-L, 
thirty-five, twenty-three, thirty-one, twenty-six, 
thirty-eight stanzas, from recent oral tradition. 
The four older versions, and also E, open 
with some lines that occur at the beginning of 
other ballads.* In A and E, and, we may add, 
G, the maid is allured by the promise of being 
taken to a paradise exempt from death and 
sorrow ; C, D, P promise a train of handmaids 
and splendid presents. All the versions agree 
very well as to the kernel of the story. A 
false knight prevails upon a lady to elope 
with him, and they ride to a wood [they sim- 
ply meet in a wood, H, K]. He sets to work 
I^Ji.*^digging a grave, which she says is too long 
^jjji^ioT his [her] dog and too narrow for his [her] 
jjfl^-^horse [all but F, H]. She is told that the 
^i^/ grave is for her. He has taken away the life 
[and honor, B, C, I] of eight maids, and she 
shall be the ninth. The eight maids become 
nine kings' daughters in E, ten in F, nineteen 
in G, and in E and F the hard choice is of- 
fered of death by sword, tree, or stream. In 
>/ A, E, I, L the knight bids the lady get her 
gold together before she sets out with him, 
and in D, H, K, Li he points out a little knoll 
under which he keeps the gold of his previous 
victims. The maid now induces the knight 
to lie down with his head in her lap, profess- 
ing a fond desire to render him the most 
homely of services f [not in 0, G, I, K] . He 
makes an express condition in E, F, G, H, 
L that she shall not betray him in his sleep, 
and she calls Heaven to witness that she will 
not. In G she sings him to sleep. He slept 
a sleep that was not sweet. She binds him 
hand and foot, then cries, Wake up ! I will 
not betray you in sleep.$ Eight you have 

killed ; yourself shall be the ninth. En- 
treaties and fair promises and pretences that 
he had been in jest, and desire for shrift, are 
in vain. Woman-fashion she drew his sword, 
but man-fashion she cut him down. She 
went home a maid. 

B, F, G, however, d5 not end so simply. 
On her way home through the wood [B], she 
comes upon a maid whd is working gold, and 
who says. The last time I saw that horse my 
brother rode it. She answers. Your brother is 
dead, and will do no more murdering for gold ; 
then turns her horse, and sets the sister's bower 
on fire. Next she encounters seven robbers on 
the heath, who recognize the horse as their 
master's, and are informed of his death and of 
the end of his crimes. They ask about the 
fire. She says it is an old pig-sty. She rides 
on, and they call to her that she is losing her 
horse's gold shoe. But nothing can stop her ; 
she bids them pick it up and drink it in wine ; 
and so comes home to her father's. P has 
nothing of the sister ; in place of seven rob- 
bers there are nine of the robber's brothers, 
and the maid sets their house on fire. G in- 
dulges in absurd extravagances : the heroine 
meets the robber's sister with twelve fierce 
dogs, and then his twelve swains, and cuts 
down both dogs and swains. 

The names in the Danish ballads are, A, 
Ulver and Vsenelil ; B, Olmor, or Oldemor, 
and Vindelraad ; C, Hollemen and Vendel- 
raad ; D, Romor, Reimord, or Reimvord, and 
the maid unnamed ; F, Herr Peder and Liden 
Kirsten ; H-L, Ribold, Rigbold [I, Rimmelil] 
and Guldborg. 

Four Swedish versions are known, all from 
tradition of this century. A, ' Den Falske 
Riddaren,' twenty-three two-line stanzas, Ar- 
widsson, 44 B, I, 301. B, ' Rofvaren Brun,' 
fifteen stanzas, Afzelius, 83, in, 97. C, twen- 

* E. g., the wonderland in A 2-6, and the strict watch 
kept over the lady in 7-10 are repeated in ' Ribold og Guld- 
borg,' Grundtvig, 82, B 2-7, 8-11, and in 'Den trofaste Jom- 
fru,' ib. 249, A 3-6, 7-10. The watching in A, B, C and 
the proffered gifts of C, D, F are found in ' Nokkens Svig,' 
Grundtvig, 39, A, B, 12-18. The disguise in A 11-14, the 
rest in the wood with the knight's head in the lady's lap, A 
16, 27, B 11, 21, D 14, 24, Ell, 21, etc., recur in Ribold, 

B 12-14, L 9, 10, M 19, 20, N 11, 13, P 12, 13. These re- 
semblances, naturally, are not limited to the Danish copies. 

t So the princess in Asbjornsen og Moe, N. Folkeeventyr, 
p. 153. Cf. Campbell's Tales of the West Highlands, iii, 
209 ; IV, 282, 283. 

t The binding and waking, with these words, are found 
also in a made-up text of 'Frsendehaevn,' Grundtvig, No 4, 
C 51-53, but certainly borrowed from some copy of 'Kvindo- 



ty-seven stanzas, Arwidsson, 44 A, I, 298. D, 
' Rofvaren Rymer,' sixteen stanzas, Afzelius, 
82, rn, 94. A, B, D have resemblances, at 
the beginning, to the Ribold ballads, like the 
Danish A, B, E, G, while the beginning of C 
is like the Danish C, D, F. A has the grave- 
digging ; there have been eight maids before ; 
the knight lays his head in the lady's lap for 
the same reason as in most of the Danish 
ballads, and under the same assurance that he 
shall not be betrayed in sleep ; he is bound, 
and conscientiously waked before his head is 
struck off ; and the lady rides home to her fa- 
ther's. There have been eight previous victims 
in C, and they king's daughters ; in B, eleven 
(maids) ; D says not how many, but, accord- 
ing to an explanation of the woman that sang 
it, there were seven princesses. C, D, like 
Danish E, F, G, make the maid encounter 
some of the robber's family on the way home. 
By a misconception, as we perceive by the 
Dutch ballad, she is represented as blowing 
the robber's horn. Seven sisters come at the 
familiar sound to bury the murdered girl and 
share the booty, but find that they have their 
brother to bury. 

The woman has no name in any of the Swe- 
dish ballads. A calls the robber " an outland- 
'^ ish man " (en man ifrS,n fremmande land), B, 
simple Brun, C, a knight, and D, Riddaren 
Rymer, or Herr Rymer. 

Of Norwegian versions, but two have been 
printed : A, ' Svein NorSmann,' twenty two- 
line stanzas, Landstad, 69, p. 567 ; B, ' Rulle- 
mann og Hildeborg,' thirty stanzas, Landstad, 
70, p. 571, both from recent recitation. Bugge 
has communicated eight others to Grundtvig. 
Both A and B have the paradise at the be- 
ginning, which is found in Danish A, E, G, 
and Swedish D. In both the lady gets her 
gold together while the swain is saddling his 
horse. They come to a grave already dug, 
which in B is said to be made so very wide 
because Rulleman has already laid nine maid- 
ens in it. The stanza in A which should 
give the number is lost, but the reciter or 
singer put it at seven or nine. The maid gets 
the robber into her power by the usual arti- 
fice, with a slight variation in B. According 

to A, she rides straight home to her father. 
B, like Danish F, has an encounter with her 
false lover's [five] brothers. They ask. Where 
is RuUemann, thy truelove ? She answers, 
He is lying down, in the green mead, and 
bloody is his bridal bed. 

Of the unprinted versions obtained by Pro- 
fessor Bugge, two indicate that the murderer's j 
sleep was induced by a spell, as in English A. 
F 9 has. 

Long time stood Gullbjor ; to herself she thought, 
May none of my runes avail me ought ? 

And H 18, as also a variant to B 20, says it 
was a rune-slumber that came over him. Only 
G, H, I, K give the number of the murdered 
women : in G, H, eight, in I, nine, in K, five. 

The names are, in A, Svein Nor?5mann and 
GuSbjorg; B, Rulleman and Hildeborg [or 
Signe] ; C, D, E, F, Svein Nermann and Gull- 
bjor [Gunnbjor] ; G, Rullemann and Kjersti ; 
H, Rullball and Signelill ; I, Aleraarken and 
Valer6s ; K, Rulemann and a fair maid. 

Such information as has transpired concern- 
ing Icelandic versions of this ballad is fur- 
nished by Grundtvig, IV, 4. The Icelandic 
fonn, though curtailed and much injured, has 
shown tenacity enough to preserve itself in a 
series of closely agreeing copies from the 17th '' 
century down. The eldest, from a manuscript 
of 1665, runs thus : 

1 Asa went along the street, she heard a sweet 


2 Asa went into the house, she saw the villain 


3 ' Little Asa, loose me ! I will not beguile thee.' 

4 ' I dare not loose thee, I know not whether 

thou 'It beguile me.' 

5 ' God almighty take note who deceives the 

other ! ' 

6 She loosed the bands from his hand, the fetter 

from his foot. 

7 ' Nine lands have I visited, ten women I 've 

beguiled ; 



8 ' Thou art now the eleventh, I '11 not let thee 


A copy, from the beginning of the 18th 
century, has, in stanza 2, "Asa went into the 
wood" a recent copy, " over the fields ; " and 
stanza 3, in the former, with but slight dif- 
ferences in all the modern copies, reads, 

* "Welcome art thou, Asa maid ! thou wUt mean to 
loose me.' 

Some recent copies (there is one in Berggreen, 
^ Danske Folkesange, 2d ed., i, 162) allow the 
maid to escape, adding, 

9 ' Wait for me a little space, whilst I go into the 

green wood.' 

10 He waited for her a long time, but she never 

came back to him. 

11 Asa took her white steed, of all women she rode 


12 Asa went into a holy cell, never did she harm 

to man. 

This is certainly one of the most important 
of the German ballads, and additions are con- 
stantly making to a large number of known 
y versions. Excepting two broad sides of about 
1560, and two copies from recitation printed 
in 1778, all these, twenty-six in number, have 
been obtained from tradition since 1800.* 
They are as follows : A a, ' Gert Olbert,' ' Die 
Morners Sang,' in Low German, as written 
down by William Grimm, in the early years 
of this century, 61 vv, Reifferscheid, p. 161, ii. 
A b, "from the Miinster region," communi- 
cated to Uhland by the Baroness Annette von 
Droste-Hiillshof, 46 vv, Uhland, i, 151, No 
74 C; repeated in Mittler, No 79. A c, a 
fragment from the same source as the preced- 
ing, and written down at the beginning of this 
century, 35 vv, Reifferscheid, p. 161, i. B, ' Es 
wollt sich ein Markgraf ausreiten,' from Bok- 
endorf, Westphalia, as taken down by W. 
Grimm, in 1813, 41 vv, Reifferscheid, p. 116. 
C a, ' Die Gerettete,' " from the Lower Rhine," 
twenty-six two-line stanzas, Zuccalmaglio, No 

* All the German yersions appear to have been originally 
in the two-line stanza. 

28, p. 66 ; Mittler, No 85. C b, eleven two- 
line stanzas, Montanus (= Zuccalmaglio) Die 
deutschen Volksfeste, p. 45. D, ' Von einem 
wackern Magdlein, Odilia geheissen,' etc., from 
the Rhine, 34 vv [Longard], No 24, p. 48. 
E, ' Schondilie,' Menzenberg and Breitbach, 
59 vv, Simrock, No 7, p. 19 ; Mittler, No 86. 
P, ' Jungfrau Linnich,' communicated by Zuc- 
calmaglio as from the Rhine region. Berg and 
Mark, fourteen two-line stanzas, Erlach, iv, 
598, and Kretzschmer (nearly). No 92, p. 164 ; 
Mittler, No 87. G a, ' Ulinger,' 120 vv, Nu- 
remberg broadside " of about 1555 " (Bohme) ^ 
in Wunderhorn, ed. 1857, iv, 101, Bohme, 
No 13% p. 56. G b o, Basel broadsides, " of ^ 
about 1570 " (Bohme), and of 1605,. in Uh- 
land, No 74 A, i, 141 ; Mittler, No 77. H, 
' Adelger,' 120 vv, an Augsburg broadside, " of v^ 
about 1560" (Bohme), Uhland, No 74 B, i, 
146 ; Bolirae, No 13^ p. 58 ; Mittler, No 76. 
I, ' Der Brautmorder,' in the dialect of the 
Kuhlandchen (Northeast Moravia and Aus- 
trian Silesia), 87 vv, Meinert, p. 61 ; Mittler, 
No 80. J, * Annele,' Swabian, from Hirrlin- 
gen and Obernau, 80 vv, Meier, Schwabische 
V. L., No 168, p. 298. K, another Swabian 
version, from Hirrlingen, Immenried, and many 
other localities, 80 vv, Scherer, Jungbrunnen, 
No 5 B, p. 25. L a, from the Swabian-Wiir- 
temberg border, 81 vv, Birlinger, Schwabisch- 
Augsburgisches Worterbuch, p. 458. L b, 
[Birlinger], Schwabische V. L., p. 159, from 
Immenried, nearly word for word the same. 
M, ' Der falsche Sanger,' 40 vv, Meier, No 167, 
p. 296. N, ' Es reitets ein Ritter durch Haber 
und Klee,' 43 vv, a fifth Swabian version, from 
Hirrlingen, Meier, p. 302. O, ' Alte Ballade 
die in Entlebuch noch gesungen wird,' twenty- 
three double stanzas, in the local dialect, 
Schweizerblatter von Henne und Reithard, 
1833, ii-^ Jahrgang, 210-12. P, 'Das Gug- 
gibader-Lied,' twenty -one treble stanzas (23 ?), 
in the Aargau dialect, Rochholz, Schweizer- 
sagen aus dem Aargau, i, 24. Q, ' Es sitzt 
gut Ritter auf und ritt,' a copy taken down in 
1815 by J. Grimm, from the recitation of a 
lady who had heard it as a child in German 
Bohemia, 74 vv, Reifferscheid, p. 162. R, ' Bie 
wriie i§t auv der rittersman,' in the dialect of 



Gottschee, Carniola, 86 w, Schroer, Sitzungs- 
bericlite der Wiener Ak., phil-hist. CI, LX, 462. 
S, ' Das Lied von dem falschen Rittersmann,' 
60 vv, from Styria, Rosegger and Heuberger, 
Volkslieder aus Steiermark, No 19, p. 17. T, 
♦ Ulrich und Annchen,' * 49 w. Herder's Volks- 
lieder, 1778,1, 79; Mittler, No 78. U,'Schon 
Ulrich und Roth-Aennchen,' 46 vv, in Tascli- 
enbuch fiir Dichterund Diehterfreunde, Abth. 
viii, 126, 1778, from Upper Lusatia (slightly 
altered by the contributor, Meissner) ; Mittler, 
No 84. A copy from Kapsdorf, in Hoffmann 
and Richter's Schlesische V. L., No 13, p-. 27, 
is the same, differing by only three words. V, 
' Schon-Aennelein,' 54 w, from the eastern 
part of Brandenburg, Erk u. Irmer, 6th Heft, 
p. 64, No 56 (stanzas 4-8 from the preceding). 
W, ' Schon UUerich und Hanselein,' twenty- 
nine two-line stanzas, from the neighborhood 
of Breslau, in Grater's Idunna und Hermode, 
No 35, Aug. 29, 1812, following p. 140. The 
same in Schlesische V. L., No 12, p. 23, ' Schon 
Ulrich u. Rautendelein,' with a stanza (12) 
inserted ; and Mittler, No 81. X, ' Der Al- 
brecht u. der Hanselein,' 42 tv, from Natan- 
gen, East Prussia, in Neue preussische Pro- 
vinzial-Blatter, 2d series, in, 158, No 8. Y, 
' Ulrich u. Annie,' nineteen two-line stanzas, 
a second Kuhlandchen version, Meinert, p. 66 ; 
Mittler, No 83. Z a, ' Von einem frechen 
Rauber, Herr Ulrich geheissen,' nineteen two- 
line stanzas, from the Rhine [Longard], No 23, 
p. 46. Z b, ' Ulrich,' as sung on the Lower 
Rhine, the same ballad, with unimportant ver- 
bal differences, and the insertion of one stanza 
(7, the editor's ?), Zuccalmaglio,*No 15, p. 39 ; 
Mittler, No 82. 
' The German ballads, as Grundtvig has 
■ pointed out, divide into three well-marked 
I classes. The first class, embracing the ver- 
sions A-F (6), and coming nearest to English 
and Dutch tradition, has been- found along 
the lower half of the Rhine and in Westpha- 
lia, or in Northwest Germany ; the second, 
including G-S (13), is met with in Swabia, 
Switzerland, Bohemia, Moravia, Styria, Car- 

* The copies with this title in Simrock, No 6, p. 15, and 
in Scherer's Jungbrunnen, No 5 A, and his Deutsche V. L., 
1851, p. 349, are compounded from various texts. 

niola, or in South Germany ; the third, T-Z 
(7), in East Prussia, the eastern part of Bran- 
denburg and of Saxony, Silesia, and, again, 
Moravia, or, roughly speaking, in North and 
East Germany ; but, besides the Moravian, 
there is also of this third class one version, in 
two copies, from the Rhine. 

(I.) A runs thus. She that would ride out 
with Gert Olbert must dress in silk and gold. 
When fair Helena had so attired herself, she 
called from her window, Gert Olbert, come 
and fetch the bride. He took her by her 
silken gown and swung her on behind him, 
and they rode three days and nights. Helena 
then said. We must eat and drink ; but Gert 
Olbert said, We must go on further. They 
rode over the green heath, and Helena once 
more tenderly asked for refreshment. Under 
yon fir [linden], said Gert Olbert, and kept 
on till they came to a green spot, where nine 
maids were hanging. Then it was. Wilt 
thou choose the fir-tree, the running stream, 
or the naked sword ? She chose the sword, 
but begged him to take off his silken coat, 
" for a maid's blood spirts far, and I should be 
sorry to spatter it." While he was engaged 
in drawing off his coat, she cut off his head. 
But still the false tongue spoke. It bade her 
blow in his horn ; then she would have com- 
pany enough. She was not so simple as to do 
this. She rode three days and nights, and 
blew the horn when she reached her father's 
castle. Then all the murderers came running, ^ 
like hounds after a hare. . Frau Clara [Jutte] 
called out, Where is my son ? Under the fir- 
tree, sporting with nine maids ; he meant me 
to be the tenth, said Helena. 

B is the same story told of a margrave and 
Fair Annie, but some important early stanzas 
are lost, and the final ones have suffered in- 
jury ; for the ballad ends with this conceit, 
" She put the horn to her mouth, and blew the 
margrave quite out of her heart." Here, by a 
transference exceedingly common in tradition, 
it is the man, and not the maid, that " would 
ride in velvet and silk and red gold." 

C a has the names Odilia and Hilsinger, . 
a trooper (reiter). Odilia was early left an 
orphan, and as she grew up " she grew into 



the trooper's bosom." He offered her seven 
pounds of gold to be his, and " she thought 
seven pounds of gold a good thing." We now 
fall into the track of A. Odilia dresses her- 
self like a bride, and calls to the trooper to 
come and get her. They ride first to a high 
hill, where she asks to eat and drink, and then 
go on to a linden-tree, on which seven maids 
are hanging. The choice of three deaths is 
offered, the sword chosen, he is entreated to 
spare his coat, she seizes his sword and hews 
off his head. The false tongue suggests blow- 
ing the horn. Odilia thinks " much biding 
or blowing is not good." She rides away, and 
presently meets the trooper's "little foot-page " 
(bot), who fancies she has Hilsinger's horse 
and sword. " He sleeps," she says, "• with 
seven maids, and thought I was to be the 
eighth." This copy concludes with a mani- 
festly spurious stanza. C b agrees with C a 
for ten stanzas, as to the matter, and so far 
seems to be C a improved by Zuccalmaglio, 
with such substitutions as a princely castle 
for " seven pounds of gold." The last stanza 


Und als die Sternlein am Himmel klar, 
Ottilia die achte der Todten war, 

was, no doubt, suggested by the last of F, an- 
other of Zuccalmaglio's versions, and, if genu- 
ine, would belong to a ballad of the third class. 
D has the name Odilia for the maid, but the 
knight, or trooper, has become expressly a 
robber (ritter, reiter, rauber). They ride to 
a green heath, where there is a cool spring. 
Odilia asks for and gets a draught of water, 
and is told that at the linden-tree there will 
be eating and drinking for them. And when 
they come to the linden, there hang six, seven 
maids ! All proceeds as before. The talking 
head is lost. Odilia meets the jobber's mother, 
and makes the usual reply.* 

* Both D and E have attached to them this final stanza : 

' Odilia, why are thy shoes so red ? ' 
' It is three doves that I shot dead.' 

This is a well-known commonplace in tragic ballads ; and 
Grundtvig suggests that this stanza was the occasion of the 
story taking the turn which we find in ballads of the third 

E resembles C closely. Odilia becomes 
Schondilg (Schon Odilie), Rauber returns to 
Ritter, or Reiter, and the servant-maid bribe 
of seven pounds of gold rises to ten tons.f 
Schondilg's toilet, preparatory to going off 
(6-8), is described with a minuteness that we 
find only in the Dutch ballad (12-16). After 
this, there is no important variation. She 
meets the trooper's three brothers, and makes 
the same replies to them as to the mother 
in D. 

F. The personages here are Linnich (i. e., 
Nellie) and a knight from England. The first 
twelve stanzas do not diverge from C, D, E. 
In stanza 13 we find the knight directing the 
lady to strip off her silk gown and gold neck- 
lace, as in the English C, D, E ; but certainly 
this inversion of the procedure which obtains 
in German C, D, E is an accident arising 
from confused recollection. The 14th and 
last stanza similarly misunderstands the maid's 
feigned anxiety about the knight's fine coat, 
and brings the ballad to a false close, resem- 
bling the termination of those of the third 
class, still more those of certain mixed forms 
to be spoken of presently. 

(II.) The second series, G-S, has three or 
four traits that are not found in the foregoing 
ballads. G, which, as well as H, was in print 
more tli,an two hundred years before any other 
copy is known to have been taken down, be- 
gins, like the Dutch Halewijn, with a knight 
(Ulinger) singing so sweetly that a maid 
(Fridburg) is filled with desire to go off with 
him. He promises to teach her his art. This 
magical song is wanting only in R, of class 
II, and the promise to teach it only in Q, R. 
She attires herself splendidly ; he swings her 
on to his horse behind him, and they ride to a 
wood. When they came to the wood there 
was no one there but a white dove on a hazel- \/ 
bush, that sang. Listen, Fridburg: Ulinger 

t One scarcely knows whether this bribe is an imperfect 
reminiscence of splendid promises which the knight makes, 
e. g., in the Danish ballads, or a shifting from the maid to 
the knight of the gold which the elsewhere opulent or well- 
to-do maid gets together while the knight is preparing to set 
forth ; or simply one of those extravagances which so often 
make their appearance in later versions of ballads. 



has hanged eleven * maids ; the twelfth is in 
his clutches. Fridburg asked what the dove 
was saying. Ulinger replied, It takes me for 
another ; it lies in its red bill ; and rode on 
till it suited him to alight. He spread his 
cloiik on the grass, and asked her to sit down : 

Er sprach sie solt ihm lausen, 
Sein gelbes Haar zerzausen.f 

Looking up into her eyes, he saw tears, and 
asked why she was weeping. Was it for her 
sorry husband ? Not for her sorry husband, 
she said. But here some stanzas, which be- 
long to another ballad, J have crept in, and she 
is, with no reason, made to ride further on. 
She comes to a lofty fir, and eleven maids 
hanging on it. She wrings her hands and tears 
her hair, and implores Ulinger to let her be 
hanged in her clothes as she is. 

* Ask me not that, Fridburg,' he said ; 

* Ask me not that, thou good young maid ; 
Thy scarlet mantle and kirtle black 

Will well become my young sister's back.' 

Then she begs to be allowed three cries. 

* So much I may allow thee well, 
Thou art so deep within the dell ; 
So deep within the dell we lie, 
No man can ever hear thy cry.' 

She cries, "Help, Jesu!" "Help, Mary!" 
" Help, dear brother ! " 

* For if thou come not straight, 
For my life 't will be too late ! ' 

Her brother seems to hear his sister's voice 
." in every sense." 

He let his falcon fly, 
Rode off with hounds in full cry ; 
With all the haste he could 
He sped to the dusky wood. 

* The number eleven is remarkably constant in the Ger- 
man ballads, being found in G, H, J-L, N-W ; it is also the 
number in Swedish B. Eight is the favorite number in the 
North, and occurs in Danish A-D, H-L, Svyedish A, C, 
Norwegian G, H ; again in German I. German M, X, Dan- 
ish P, have ten ; German A, B, Danish E, Norwegian I, 
hare nine ; German C, D, seven ; Danish G has nineteen. 

* What dost thou here, my Ulinger ? 
What dost thou here, my master dear ? ' . 

* Twisting a withe, and that is all, 
To make a halter for my foal.' 

' Twisting a withe, and that is all, 
To make a halter for thy foal ! 
I swear by my troth thus shall it be, 
Thyself shalt be the foal for me.' 

' Then this I beg, my Fridburger, 
Then this I beg, my master dear, 
That thou wilt let me hang 
In my clothes as now I stand.' 

' Ask me not that, thou Ulinger, 
Ask me not that, false perjurer ; 
Thy scarlet mantle and jerkin black 
WiU well become my scullion's back.' 

His shield before his breast he sltmg, 
Behind him his fair sister swung, 
And so he hied away 
Where his father's kingdom lay. 

H, the nearly contemporaneous Augsburg 
broadside, differs from G in only one impor- 
tant particular. The " reuter " is Adelger, 
the lady unnamed. A stanza is lost between 
6 and 7, which should contain the warning 
of the dove, and so is Adelger's version of 
what the bird had said. The important fea- 
ture in H, not present in G, is that the halt is 
made near a spring, about which blood is 
streaming, " der war mit blut umbrunnenn." 
This adds a horror to this powerful scene 
which well suits with it. When the maid be- 
gins to weep, Adelger asks whether her tears 
are for her father's land, or because she dis- 
likes him so much. It is for neither reason, 
but because on yon fir she sees eleven maids 
hanging. He confirms her fears : 

' Ah, thou fair young lady fine, 
O palsgravine, O empress mine, 

French A, B have fourteen, fifteen, Italian ballads still 
higher numbers : A, B, C, thirty-six, D, fifty-two, E, thirty- 
three, F, three hundred and three. 

t This stroke of realism fails only in M, N, R, of this 
second class. 

t Apparently to a Ribold ballad, of which no other trace 
has been found in Grerman. See further on in this volume. 



Adelger 's killed his eleven before, 
Thou 'It be the twelfth, of that be sure.' * 

The last two lines seem, by their form, to 
be the dove's warning that has dropped out 
between stanzas 6 and 7. The maid's clothes 
in H are destined to be the perquisite of Adel- 
ger's mother, and the brother says that Adel- 
ger's are to go to his shield-bearer. The un- 
happy maid cries but twice, to the Virgin and 
to her brother. When surprised by the broth- 
er, Adelger feigns to be twisting a withe for 
his falcon. 

I begins, like G, H, with the knight's se- 
ductive song. Instead of the dove directly 
warning the maid, it upbraids the man : 
" Whither now, thou Ollegehr ? f Eight hast 
thou murdered already ; and now for the 
ninth ! " The maid asks what the dove means, 
and is told to ride on, and not mind the dove, 
who takes him for another Inan. There are 
eight maids in the fir. The cries are to Jesus, 
Mary, and her brothers, one of whom hastens 
to the rescue. He is struck with the beauty 
of his sister's attire, — her velvet dress, her 
virginal crown, " which you shall wear many 
a year yet." So saying, he draws his sword, 
and whips ofiE his " brother-in-law's " head, 
with this epicedium : 

' Lie there, thou head, and bleed, 
Thou never didst good deed. 

* Lie there, thou head, and rot, 
No man shall mourn thy lot. 

* No one shall ever be sorry for thee 

But the small birds on the greenwood tree.' t 

In J, again, the knight comes riding through 

* 13 ' Ach du schone junkfraw fein, 

Du pfalzgravin, du kaiserin ! 

Der Adelger hat sich vor ailf getodt, 

Du wirst die zwolft, das sei dir gsait. 

15 ' So bitt mich nit, du junkfraw fein, 
So bitt mich nit, du herzigs ein ! ' 

The liehkosung of this murder-reeking Adelger, o'ersized 
with coagulate gore, is admirably horrible. 

t Nimmersatt (All-begehrend) as interpreted by Meinert, 
not Adelger. 

X Verses which recur, nearly, not only in T 17-19, W 
27, 28, but elsewhere, as in a copy of ' Graf Friedrich,' Erk's 
Liederhort, p. 41, No 15, st. 19. 

the reeds, and sings such a song that Brown 
Annele, lying under the casement, exclaims, 
" Could I but sing like him, I would give my 
troth and my honor ! " There are, by mistake, 
two § doves in stanza 4, that warn Annele not 
to be beguiled, but this error is set right in the 
next stanza. When she asks what the dove 
is cooing, the answer is, " It is cooing about 
its red foot ; it went barefoot all winter." We 
have here again, as in H, the spring in the 
wood, " mit Blute umrunnen," and the lady 
asks again the meaning of the bloody spring. 
The knight replies, in a stanza which seems 
both corrupted and out of place, " This is 
where the eleven pure virgins perished." Then 
follow the same incidents as in G-I. He says 
she must hang with the eleven in the fir, and 
be queen over all. Her cries are for her fa- • 
ther, for Our Lady, and for her brother, who 
is a hunter in the forest. The hunter makes 
all haste to his sister, twists a withe, and 
hangs the knight without a word between 
them, then takes his sister by the hand and 
conducts her home, with the advice never 
more to trust a knight : for all which she re- 
turns her devout thanks. || 

K and L are of the same length and the 
same tenor as J. There are no names in L ; 
in K both Annele and Ulrich, but the latter 
is very likely to have been inserted by the 
editor. K, L have only one dove, and in 
neither does the lady ask the meaning of the 
dove's song. The knight simply says, " Be 
still ; thou liest in thy throat ! " Both have 
the bloody spring, but out of place, for it is 
very improperly spoken of by the knight as 
the spot he is making for : 

§ There is no sense in two doves. The single dove one ^ 
may suppose to be the spirit of the last victim. We shall 
find the eleven appearing as doves in Q. There is no occa- • 
sion to regard the dove here as a Waldminne ( Vilmar, Hand- 
biichlein fiir Freunde des deuUchen Volkslieds, p. 57). Cf. 
the nightingale (and two nightingales) in the Danish ' Red- 
selille eg Medelvold : ' see ' Leesome Brand,' further on in 
this volume. 

II This ballad has become, in Tubingen, a children's game, 
called ' Bertha im Wald.' The three cries are presened in 
verse, and very nearly as in J, M. The game concludes by 
the robber smothering Bertha. Meier, Deutsche Kinder- 
Reime, No 439. 



* "Wir wollen ein wenig weiter vorwarts faren, 
Bis zu einem kiihlen Waldbrunnen, 
Der ist mit Blut iiberronnen.' * 

L 26-28, 17-19. 

The three cries are for father, mother, 
brother. In K the brother fights with " Ul- 
rich " two hours and a half before he can mas- 
ter him, then despatches him with his two- 
edged sword, and hangs him in a withe. He 
fires his rifle in L, to announce his coming, 
and hears his sister's laugh ; then stabs the 
knight through the heart. The moral of J is 
repeated in both : Stay at home, and trust no 

M smacks decidedly of the bankelsanger, 
and has an appropriate moral at the tail: 
animi index cauda ! The characters are a 
cavalier and a girl, both nameless, and a 
brother. The girl, hearing the knight sing 
" ein Liedchen von dreierlei Stimmen," which 
should seem to signify a three-part song, says, 
" Ah, could I sing like him, I would straight- 
way give him my honor." They ride to the 
wood, and come upon a hazel-bush with three 
doves, one of which informs the maid that 
she will be betrayed, the second that she will 
die that day, and the third that she will be 
buried in the wood. The second and third 
doves, as being false prophets, and for other 
reasons, may safely be pronounced intruders. 
All is now lost till we come to the cries, which 
are addressed to father, mother, and brother. 
The brother stabs the traitor to the heart. f 

N is as short as M, and, like it, has no 
names, but has all the principal points : the 

* K, or the editor, seeks to avoid the difficulty by taking 
the last line from the knight, and reading, " Mit Blut war 
er umronnen," an emendation not according with the sim- 
plicity of ballads. Another Swabian copy, Meier, p. 301, 
note, strophe 6, has : 

' Wir miissen zu selbigem Bronnen 
Wo Wasser und Blut heraus ronnen.' 

t The last verses are these, and not very much worse than 
the rest : 

Mein Bruder ist ein Jagersmann, 
Der alle Thierlein gchiessen kann ; 
Er hatt' ein zweiscbneidiges Schwerte, 
Und stach es dem Falscben ins Herze. 

Ihr Madchen alle insgemein, 
Lasst euch doch disss zur Warnung sein, 
Und geht doch mit keinem so falschen 
In einen so finsteren Walde. 

fascinating song, the dove on the bush, eleven 
maids in the fir, the three cries, and the res- 
cue by the huntsman-brother, who cocks his 
gun and shoots the knight. The reciter of 
this ballad gave the editor to understand that 
if the robber had succeeded in his twelfth 
murder, he would have attained such powers 
that nobody after that could harm him. J 

O is a fairly well-preserved ballad, resem- 
bling G-J as to the course of the story. An- 
neli, lying under the casement, hears the 
knight singing as he rides through the reeds. 
The elaborate toilet is omitted, as in I, J. 
The knight makes haste to the dark wood. 
They come to a cold spring, " mit Bluot war 
er iiberrunnen ; " then to a hazel, behind which 
a dove coos ominously. Anneli says, Listen. 
The dove coos you are a false man, that will 
not spare my life. No, says the knight, that 
is not it ; the dove is cooing about its blue 
foot, for its fate is to freeze in winter. The 
cloak is thrown on the grass, the eleven maids 
in the fir are descried, and Anneli is told she 
must hang highest, and be empress over all. 
He concedes her as m^ny cries as she likes, for 
only the wood-birds will hear. She calls on 
God, the Virgin, and her brother. The brother 
thinks he hears his sister's voice, calls to his 
groom to saddle, comes upon the knight while 
he is twisting a withe for his horse, as he says, 
ties him to the end of the withe, and makes 
him pay for all he has perpetrated in the 
wood. He then swings Anneli behind him, 
and rides home with her. 

P, the other Swiss .ballad, has been re- 

My brother is a hunting man, 

And all the small game shoot he can ; 

He had a sword with edges two, 

And ran the heart of the false man through 

Ye maidens now in general, 
Let this be warning to you all ; 
With man so false you never should 
Go to so very dark a wood. 

X So in Rochholz, Schweizer Sagen, No 14, i, 23, a man 
who had killed eleven maids would, if he could have made 
up the number twelve, have been able to pass through walls 
and mouseholes. Again, a certain robber in Jutland, who 
had devoured eight children's hearts, would have acquired 
the power of flying could he but have secured one more. 
Grundtvig, D. g. F. iv, 16, note. 



touched, and more than retouched in places, 
by a modern pen. Still the substance of the 
story, and, on the whole, the popular tone, is 
preserved. Fair Anneli, in the miller's house, 
hears the knight singing as he rides through 
the rushes, and runs down-stairs and calls to 
him : she would go o£E with him if she could 
sing like that, and her clothes are fit for any 
young lady. The knight promises that he 
will teach her his song if she will go with 
him, and bids her put these fine clothes on. 
They ride to the wood. A dove calls from 
the hazel, "He will betray thee." Anneli 
asks what the dove is saying, and is answered 
much as in J and O, that it is talking about 
its frost-bitten feet and claws. The knight 
tears through the wood, to the great peril of 
Anneli's gown and limbs, and when he has 
come to the right place, spreads his cloak on 
the grass, and makes the usual request. She 
weeps when she sees eleven maids in the fir- 
tree, and receives the customary consolation : 

' Weep not too sore, my Anneli, 

'T is true thou art doomed the twelfth to be ; 

Up to the highest tip must thou go, 

And a margravine be to all below ; 

Must be an empress over the rest, 

And hang the highest of all as the best.' 

The request to be allowed three cries is lost. 
The knight tells her to cry as much as she 
pleases, he knows no one will come ; the wild 
birds will not hear, and the doves are hushed. 
She cries to father, mother, and brother. The 
brother, who is sitting over his wine at the 
inn, hears, saddles his best horse, rides furious- 
ly, and comes first to a spring filled with locks 
of maid's hair and red with maid's blood ; 
then to a bush, where the knight (Riideli, 
Rudolph) is twisting his withe. He bids his 
sister be silent, for the withe is not for her ; 
the villain is twisting it for his own neck, 
and shall be dragged at the tail of his horse. 

Q resembles the Swabian ballads, and pre- 
sents only these variations from the regular 
story. The dove adds to the warning " Fair 
maid, be not beguiled," what we find nowhere 
else, "Yonder I see a cool spring, around 
which blood is running." The knight, to re- 

move the maid's anxiety, says, " Let it talk ; 
it does not know me ; I am no such murder- 
er." The end is excessively feeble. When the 
brother, a hunter as before, reaches his sister, 
" a robber runs away," and then the brother 
takes her by the hand, conducts her to her fa- 
ther's land, and enjoins her to stay at home 
and spin silk. There are no names. 

There is one feature entirely peculiar to R. 
The knight carries off the maid, as before, 
but when they come to the hazel bush there 
are eleven doves that sing this " new song : " 

' Be not beguiled, maiden, 
The knight is beguiling thee : 

* We are eleven already, 
Thou shalt be the twelfth.' 

The eleven doves are of course the spirits of 
the eleven preceding victims. The maid's 
inquiry as to what they mean is lost. The 
knight's evasion is not ingenious, but more 
likely to allay suspicion than simply saying, 
" I am no such murderer." He says, " Fear 
not : the doves are singing a song that is com- 
mon in these parts." When they come to the 
spring " where blood and water are running," 
and the maid asks what strange spring is this, 
the knight answers in the same way, and per- 
haps could not do better : " Fear not : there is 
in these parts a spring that runs blood and 
water." This spring is misplaced, for it oc- 
curs before they enter the wood. The last 
scene in the ballad is incomplete, and goes no 
further than the brother's exclamation when 
he comes in upon the knight : " Stop, young 
knight ! Spare my sister's life." The parties 
in R are nameless. 

So again in S, which also has neither the 
knight's enchanting song nor the bloody 
spring. There are two doves, as in J, stanza 
4. The cries are addressed to mother, father, 
brother, as in N, and, as in N, again, the brother 
cocks his gun, and shoots the knight down ;* 
then calmly leads his sister home, with the 
warning against knights. 

* What will those who are so troubled about cork-heeled 
shoon in ' Sir Patrick Spens ' say to the fire-arms in L, N, 



(III.) T, tbe first of the third series, has 
marked signs of deterioration. Ulrich does 
not enchant Annchen by his song, and prom- 
ise to teach it to her ; he offers to teach her 
" bird-song." They walk out together, appar- 
ently, and come to a hazel, with no dove ; 
neither is there any spring. Annie sits down 
"on the grass ; Ulrich lays his head in her lap ; 
she weeps, and he asks why. It is for eleven 
maids in the fir-tree, as so often before. Ul- 
rich's style has become much tamer : 

' Ah, Annie, Annie, dear to me, 

How soon shalt thou the twelfth one be ! ' 

She begs for three cries, and calls to her fa- 
ther, to God, to her youngest brother. The 
last is sitting over the wine and hears. He 
demands of Ulrich where she is, and is told, 
Upon yon linden, spinning silk. Then ensues 
this dialogue : Why are your shoes blood-red ? 
Why not ? I have shot a dove. That dove 
my mother bare under her breast. Annie is 
laid in the grave, and angels sing over her ; 
Ulrich is broken on the wheel, and round him 
the ravens cry. 

There is no remnant or reminiscence of the 
magical singing in U. Schon Ulrich and Roth 
Annchen go on a walk, and come first to a 
fir-tree, then a green mead. The next scene 
is exactly as in T. Ulrich says the eleven 
maids were his wives, and that he had thrust 
his sword through their hearts. Annie asks 
for three sighs^ and directs them to God, to 
Jesus, and to her youngest brother. He is 
sitting over his wine, when the sigh comes 
into the window, and Ulrich simultaneously 
in at the door. The remainder is very much 
as in T. 

V differs from U only in the names, which 
are Schon-Heinrich and Schon-Annelein, and 
in the " sighs " returning to cries, which in- 
voke God, father, and brother. 

W begins with a rivalry between Ulrich 

and Hanselein * for the hand of Rautendelein 
(Rautendchen). Ulrich is successful. She 
packs up her jewels, and he takes her to a 
wood, where she sees eleven maids hanging. 
He assures her she shall presently be the 
twelfth. It is then they sit down, and she 
leans her head on his breast and weeps, " be- 
cause," as she says, " I must die." His re- 
mark upon this, if there was any, is lost. Hoff- 
mann inserts a stanza from another Silesian 
copy, in which Ulrich says, Rather than 
spare thy life, I will run an iron stake through 
thee. She asks for three cries, and he says, 
Four, if you want. She prefers four, and calls 
to her father, mother, sister, brother. The 
brother, as he sits over the wine, hears the 
cry, and almost instantly Ulrich comes in at 
the door. He pretends to have killed a dove ; 
the brother knows what dove, and hews off 
Ulrich's head, with a speech like that in I. 
Still, as Rautendchen is brought to the grave, 
with toll of bells, so Ulrich is mounted on the 
wheel, where ravens shriek over him. 

X. Albrecht and Hanselein woo Alalein. 
She is promised to Albrecht, but Hansel gets 
her. He takes her to a green mead, spreads 
his mantle on the grass, and she sits down. 
His lying in her lap and her discovery of the 
awful tree are lost. She weeps, and he tells 
her she shall be " his eleventh." Her cries 
are condensed into one stanza : 

' Gott Vater, Sohn, Herr Jesu Christ, 
Mein jungster Bruder, wo Du bist !/ 

Her brother rides in the direction of the voice, 
and meets Hanselein in the wood, who says 
Alalein is sitting with princes and counts. 
The conclusion is as in T, U, V. 

Y has Ansar Uleraich wooing a king's 
daughter, Annie, to the eighth year. He 
takes her to a fir-wood, then to a fir, a stump 
of a tree, a spring : in each case bidding her 
sit down. At the spring he asks her if she 

• A variety of W, cited in Schlesiscbe Volkslieder, p. 26, 

' Ach Ulbrich, Ulbrich, Halsemann, Halsemann, 
Lass du mich nur drei Gale schrei'n ! ' 

Grundtvig, assuming that the name is Ulbrich Halsemann, 
would account for the second and superfluous character here 

[found also in "W] by a divarication of Ulrich Halsemann 
into Ulrich and Halsemann (Hanslein). Ansar, "bisher 
unverstandlicher Vorname desEitters Uleraich " in Y (Mei- 
nert), would equally well yield Hanslein. Might not Halse- 
mann possibly be an equivalent of Halshcrr f 



wishes to be drowned, and, upon her saying 
no, cuts off her head. He has not walked 
half a mile before he meets her brother. 
The brother inquires where Ulrich has left 
his sister, and the reply is, " By the green 
Rhine." The conclusion is as in W. Ulrich 
loses his head, and the brother pronounces 
the imprecation which is found there and 
in I.* 

Z, which takes us back from Eastern Ger- 
many to the Rhine, combines features from 
all the three groups. Ulrich fascinates a 
king's daughter by his song. She collects her 
gold and jewels, as in W, and goes to a 
wood, where a dove warns her that she will 
be betrayed. Ulrich appropriates her valua- 
bles, and they wander about till they come 
to the Rhine. There he takes her into a wood, 
and gives her a choice between hanging and 
drowning, and, she declining both, says she 
shall die by his sword. But first she is al- 
lowed three cries, — to God, her parents, her 
youngest brother. The youngest brother de- 
mands of Ulrich where he has left his sister. 
" Look in my pocket, and you shall find four- 
teen tongues, and the last cut [reddest] of all 
is your sister's." The words were scarcely 
out of his mouth before Ulrich's sword had 
taken off his head. 

The three classes of the German ballad, it 
will be observed, have for their principal dis- 
tinction that in I the maid saves her Own- 
life by an artifice, and takes the life of her 
treacherous suitor ; in II, she is rescued by 
her brother, who also kills the traitor ; in III, 
she dies by the villain's hand, and he by her 
brother's, or by a public execution. There 
are certain subordinate traits which are con- 
stant, or nearly so, in each class. In I, A-F, 
a choice of deaths is invariably offered ; the 
maid gets the advantage of the murderer by 
persuading him to take off his coat [distorted 
in F, which has lost its conclusion] ; and, on 
her way home, she falls in with one or more 
of the robber's family, mother, brothers, ser- 
vant, who interrogate her [except F, which, 
as just said, is a fragment]. Class II has sev- 

* And in ' Der Mutter Fluch,' Meinert, p. 246, a ballad 
with which Y agrees in the first two and last four stanzas. 

eral marks of its own. All the thirteen bal- 
lads [G-S], except the last, represent the 
knight as fascinating the maid by his singing ; 
in all but Q she is warned of her danger by 
a dove,f or more than one ; in all but the 
much-abridged M, N, the knight spreads his 
cloak on the grass, they sit down, and, ex- 
cepting M, N, R, the unromantic service is 
repeated which she undertakes in Danish A, 
B, D, B, F, H, L, Swedish A, Norwegian A, 
B. The bloody spring occurs in some form, 
though often not quite intelligible, in H, J, 
K, L, O, P, Q, R (also in D, Y). All but 
the much-abridged M, N have the question, 
What are you weeping for ? your father's land, 
humbled pride, lost honor ? etc. ; but this 
question recurs in T, U, V, W. The cries for 
help are a feature of both the second and the 
third class, and are wanting only in Y. Class 
III differs from I, and resembles II, in having 
the cries for help, and, in the less impaired 
forms, T-W, the knight spreads his cloak, lies 
down with -his head in the lady's lap, and 
asks the cause of her tears. Beyond this, and 
the changed catastrophe, the ballads of Class 
III are distinguished by what they have lost. 

Forms in which the story of this is mixed 
with that of some other German ballad remain 
to be noticed. 

A. A ballad first published in Nicolai's 
Almanach, II, 100, No 21 (1778), and since 
reprinted, under the titles, ' Liebe ohne Stand,' 
' Der Ritter und die Konigstochter,' etc., but 
never with absolute fidelity, in Wunderhorn 
(1819), I, 37 (= Erlach, n, 120), Kretzsch- 
mer. No 72, i, 129; Mittler, No 89; Erk, 
Neue Sammlung, iii, 18, No 14 ; also, with a 
few changes, by Zuccalmaglio, No. 95, p. 199, 
as ' aus Schwaben ; ' by Erk, Liederhort, No 
28, p. 90, as " corrected from oral tradition ; " 
and as " from oral tradition," in Erk's Wun- 
derhorn (1857), I, 39. Independent versions 
are given by Mittler, No 90, p. 83, from Ober- 
hessen ; Prohle, Weltliche u. geistliche Volks- 
lieder. No 5, p. 10, from the Harz ; Reiffer- 
scheid. No 18, p. 36, from Bokendorf. Erk 
refers to still another copy, five stanzas longer 

t There is a dove in Z, but Z, as has been said, presents 
traits of all three classes. 



than Nicolai's, from Hesse-Darmstadt, Neue 
Sammlung, iii, 19, note. 

What other ballad is here combined with 
Ulinger, it is impossible to make out. The 
substance of the narrative is that a knight 
rides singing through the reeds, and is heard 
by a king's daughter, who forthwith desires 
to go with him. They ride till the horse is 
hungry [tired] ; he spreads his cloak on the 
grass, and makes, sans fapon, his usual re- 
quest. The king's daughter sheds many tears, 
and he asks why. " Had I followed my fa- 
ther's counsel, I might have been empress." 
The knight cuts off her head at the word, and 
says. Had you held your tongue, you would 
have kept your head. He throws the body 
behind a tree, with Lie there and rot ; my 
young heart must mourn [no knight, a knight, 
shall mourn over thee]. Another stanza or 
two, found in some versions, need not be par- 
ticularly noticed. 

* Stolz Sieburg,' Simrock, No 8, p. 21, from 
the Rhine, Mittler, No 88, is another and some- 
what more rational form of the same story. 
To the question whether she is weeping for 
Gut, Muth, Ehre, the king's daughter answers : 

' Ich wein um meine Ehre, 

Ich woUt gern wieder umkehren.' 

For this Stolz Sieburg strikes off her head, 
with a speech like that which we have just 
had, and throws it into a spring ; then re- 
solves to hang himself.* 

A Dutch version of this ballad, Le Jeune, 
No 92, p. 292 ; Willems, No 72, p. 186 ; Hoff- 
mann, No 29, p. 92, has less of the Halewyn in 
it, and more motive than the German, though 
less romance. " If you might have been an 
empress," says the knight, " I, a margrave's 

* ' Da lyge, feyns Lybchen, unndt fawle, 
Meyn jungk Herze muss trawren.' 

Nicolai, w 35, 36, 

' Da liege, du Haaptchen, und faule, 
Kein Reuter wird dir nachtrauem.' 

Simrock, vv 35, 36, 
are evidently derived from the apostrophe to the murder- 
er's head in I, W, Y. 

Stolz Syburg is the hero of a very different ballad, from 
the Miinster region, Reifferscheid, No 16, p. 32 (also No 17, 
and Simrock, No 9, p. 23, ' Stolz Heinrich '). And from 
this the name, in consequence of a remote resemblance in the 

son, will marry you to-morrow." " I would 
rather lose my head than be your wife," re- 
plies the lady ; upon which he cuts off her 
head and throws it into a fountain, saying, 
Lie there, smiling mouth ! Many a thousand 
pound have you cost me, and many pence of 
red gold. Your head is clean cut off. 

B. The Ulinger story is also found com- 
bined with that of the beautiful ballad, ' Was- 
sermanns Braut.' f (1.) In a Transylvanian 
ballad, ' Brautmijrder,' Schuster, Siebenbiir- 
gisch-sachsische Volkslieder, p. 57, No 54 A, 
38 vv, with variations, and p. 59, B, a fragment 
of 10 vv ; (A in a translation, Bohme, No 14, p. 
61.) A king from the Rhine sues seven years 
for a king's daughter, and does not prevail 
till the eighth. She begs her mother not to 
consent, for she has seen it in the sun that 
she shall not long be her daughter, in the 
moon that she shall drown before the year is 
out, in the bright stars that her blood shall 
be dispersed far and wide. He takes her by 
the hand, and leads her through a green wood, 
at the end of which a grave is already made. 
He pushes her into the grave, and drives a 
stake through her heart. The princess' brother 
asks what has become of his sister. " I left 
her on the Rhine, drinking mead and wine." 
" Why are your skirts so bloody ? " "I have 
shot a turtle-dove." "That turtle-dove was, 
mayhap, my sister." They spit him on a red- 
hot stake, and roast him like a fish. Lines 
1-4 of this ballad correspond to 1-4 of Y 
(which last agree with 1-4 of Meinert's ' Was- 
sermanns Braut ') ; 17, 18, to Y 5, 6 ; 25-34 to 
21-30 ; and we find in verse 22 the stake 
through the heart which Hoffmann has inter- 
polated in W, stanza 12. 

(2.) A Silesian copy of ' Wassermanns 

story, may have been taken up by the Rhine ballad, though 
it has contributed nothing more. Margaret, a king's daugh- 
ter, is wiled away by a splendid description of Stolz Syburg's 
opulence. When they have gone a long way, he tells her 
that he has nothing but a barren heath. She stabs herself 
at his feet. 

t ' Wassermans Braut,' Meinert, p. 77 ; ' Die ungliickliche 
Braut,' Hoffmann u. Richter, Schlesische V. L., p. 6, No. 2 ; 
' Konigs Tochterlein,' Erk u. Irmer, vi, 6, No 4 ; ' Der Was- 
sermann,' Erk's Liederhort, p. 50, No 17. ('Die Nixen- 
braut,' " Norddeutschland," Zuccalmaglio, p. 192, No 92, 
seems to be Meinert's copy written over.) 

? -? 

Braut,' cod by ffman contributed to Deutsches 
Museum, 1852, n, 164, represents the bride, 
after she has fallen into the water and has 
been recovered by the nix, as asking for three 
cries, and goes on from this point like the Ul- 
rich ballad W, the conclusion being that the 
sister is drowned before the brother comes to 
her aid.* 

* Nun schiirz dich, Gredlein,' " Forster's 
Frische Liedlein, No 6Q,'' Bohme, No 53, Uh- 
land. No 256 A, which is of the date 1549, and 
therefore older than the Nuremberg and Augs- 
burg broadsides, has derived stanzas 7-9 from 
an Ulinger ballad, unless this passage is to 
be regarded as common property. Some copies 
of the ballad commonly called ' MiillertUcke ' 
have also adopted verses from Ulinger, es- 
pecially that in Meier's Schwabische Volks- 
lieder, No 233, p. 403. 

A form of ballad resembling English C-F, 
but with some important differences, is ex- 
traordinarily diffused in Poland. There is 
also a single version of the general type of 
English A, or, better, of the first class of the 
German ballads. This version. A, Pauli, 
Piesiii ludu Polskiego w Galicyi, p. 90, No 5, 
and Kolberg, Piesni ludu Polskiego, No 5, bbb, 
p. 70, runs thus. There was a man who went 
about the world wiling away young girls from 
father and mother. He had already done this 
with eight ; he was now carrying off the ninth. 
He took her to a frightful wood ; then bade 
her look in the direction of her house. She 
asked, " What is that white thing that I see 
on yon fir ? " " There are already eight of 
them," he said, " and you shall be the ninth ; 
never shall you go back to your father and 
mother. Take off that gown, Maria." Maria 
was looking at his sword. " Don't touch, 
Maria, for you will wound your pretty little 



* The remarkable Norwegian ballad of the ' Wassermanns 
Braut ' group, The Nix and Heiemo, Landstad, No 39, p. 
350, has not been unaffected by tbe one we are now occupied 
with. There is even a verbal contact between stanza 19, 
' Heiemo tenkte meS sjave seg : 
Tru mine sma knivar 'ki hjelper meg? ' 

and Norwegian F, stanza 9, cited by Grundtvig, iv, 4, 

Lengji sto Gullbjor, h6 tenkte mae seg : 
' Kann inkje ml' runinne hjelpe meg ? ' 

t Kolberg's b, h, k, v, x, bb, cc, hh, kk, 11, nn, zx, 

hands." " Don't mind my hands, John," she 
replied, " but rather see what a bold heart I 
have 5 " and instantly John's head flew off. 
Then follows a single stanza, which seems to 
be addressed to John's mother, after the man- 
ner of the German A, etc. : " See, dear mother ! 
I am thy daughter-in-law, who have just put 
that traitor out of the world." There is a 
moral for conclusion, which is certainly a later 

The other ballads may be arranged as fol- 
lows, having regard chiefly to the catastrophe. 
B, Kolberg, No 5, oo : O, rr : D, ceo : E, dd : 
F, uu : G, WW : H, t : I, u : J, gg : K, mm : 
L, Waclaw z Oleska, p. 483, 2, Kolberg, p : 
L*. Koztowski, Lud, p, 33, No iv : M, Woj- 
cicki, I, 234, Kolberg, r : N, Wojcicki, i, 82, 
Kolberg, s : O, Kolberg, d : P, ib. f : Q, pp : 
R, Wojcicki, I, 78, Kolberg, e : S, Kolberg, 
1 : T, ib. n : U, Pauli, Pjes'iii ludu Polskiego 
w Galicyi, p. 92, No 6, Kolberg, q : V, Kol- 
berg, y : W, Wojcicki, li, 298, " J. Lipinski, 
Piesni ludu Wielkopolskiego, p. 34," Kol- 
berg, ee ; X, Kolberg, a : Y, ib. z : Z, aa : 
AA, qq : BB, w ; CC, ddd : DD, m : EE, c : 
FF, o : GG, 11 : HH, ss : II, ii : JJ, ff : KK, 
tt : LL, i : MM, g*. In B-K the woman comes 
off alive from her adventure : in O-CC, she 
loses her life : in L-N there is a jumble of 
both conclusions : DD-MM are incomplete.! 

The story of the larger part of these bal- 
lads, conveyed as briefly as possible, is this : 
John, who is watering horses, urges Cather- 
ine, $ who is drawing water, to elope with him. 
He bids her take silver and gold enough, that 
the horse may have something to carry. Cath- 
erine says her mother will not allow her to 
enter the new chamber. Tell her that you 
have a headache, says John, and she will con- 
sent. Catherine feigns a headache, is put into 

yy, zz, consist of only one or two initial stanzas, containing 
no important variation. His aaa, a fragment of six stanzas, 
Pauli, p. 147, No 6, Wojcicki, ii, 169, though it begins like 
the rest, sounds like a different ballad. 

The ballad in Wojcicki, i, 38, is allied with the one we 
are engaged with, and the two fragments on p. 36, p. 37 
with both this and that. 

t Anne in R, LL, and Kolberg's h : Mary in I, U, II : 
Ursula, N: both Catherine and Alice, A A. John is found 
in all but N, where there is a nameless seigneur. 



the new chamber, and absconds with John 
while her mother is asleep.* At a certain 
stage, more commonly at successive stages, — 
on the high road, K, P, S, DD, II, LL, in a 
dark wood, D, P, T, X, Z, DD, EE, at a spring, 
D, K, S, T, V, W, X, Y, Z, EE, II, LL, etc., 
— he bids her take off, or himself takes from 
her, her " rich attire," D, P, T, V, W, X, Y, 
Z, DD, EE, her satin gown, D, T, X, DD, EE, 
her French or Turkish costume, K, P, II, 
robes of silver, K, shoes, Z, CC, FF, silk stock- 
ings, T, corals, D, X, CC, EE, pearls, T, rings, 
K, O-T, X, Z, CC-FF, II, LL. In many of 
the ballads he tells her to go back to her 
mother, B-G, K, L*, M, N, Q, S, U, X, Y, 
EE, HH-LL, sometimes after pillaging her, 
sometimes without mention of this. Cather- 
ine generally replies that she did not come 
away to have to go back, B, C, D, G, L*, M, 
S, U, X, Y, EE, HH, JJ, KK, LL. John 
seizes her by the hands and sides and throws 
her into a deep river [pool, water, sea] . Her 
apron [tress, AA, II, both apron and tress, O, 
petticoat, KK] is caught on a stake or stump 
of a tree, B, C, G, H, I, O, P, R, T, U, V, W, 
Y, BB, DD, EE, II, JJ, KK [in a bush D]. 
John cuts it away with axe or sword, G, I, 
O, R, T, BB, II, JJ. She cries to him for 
help. He replies, " I did not throw you in to 
help you out," f B, C, F, P, U, V, W, X, Z, 
EE, II. Catherine is drawn ashore in a fish- 
erman's net [swims ashore I, J, GG]. 

Catherine comes out from the water alive 
in B-N. The brother who plays so important 
a part in the second class of German ballads, 
appears also in a few of the Polish versions, 
B, C, D, and L*, O, P, Q, X, but is a mere 
shadow. In B 21, 22, and C 16, 17, the 
brother, who is " on the mountain," and may 
be supposed to hear the girl's cry, slides down 

♦ They are expressly said to go off in a carriage in I, O, 
Q, T, BB, DD, FP. Still, in I, John says, " Let the black 
horse have something to carry under us," In O, T, FF, the 
horses have a presentiment of evil to their mistress, and re- 
fuse to stir. 

t One version of ' The Two Sisters,' Q, has the same 
answer : 

' I did not put you in with the design 
Just for to pull you out again.* 

St. 9. 

This might be called a formula in Polish ballads : something 

a silken cord, which proves too short, and the 
girl " adds her tress " ! He asks the fishermen 
to throw their nets for her. She is rescued, 
goes to church, takes an humble place behind 
the door, and, when her eyes fall on the young 
girls, melts into tears. Her apron catches in 
a bush in D : she plucks a leaf, and sends it 
down the stream to her mother's house. The 
mother says to the father, " Do you not see 
how Catherine is perishing ? " The leaf is 
next sent down stream to her sister's house, 
who says to her brother, "Do you not see 
how Catherine is perishing?" He rides up a 
high mountain, and slides down his silken 
cord. Though one or two stanzas are lost, or 
not given, the termination was probably the 
same as in B, C. In L* 15, O 12, the brother, 
on a high mountain, hears the cry for help, 
and slides down to his sister on a silken cord, 
but does nothing. X does not account for the 
brother's appearance : he informs the fisher- 
men of what has happened, and they draw 
Catherine out, evidently dead. The brother 
hears the cry from the top of a wall in P 21, 
22 ; slides down his cord ; the sister adds her 
tress; he directs the fishermen to draw her 
out ; she is dead. Instead of the brother on 
the wall, we have a mason in Q 27 [perhaps 
" the brother on the wall" in P is a mason]. 
It is simply said that " he added " a silken 
cord : the fishermen drew out Catherine dead. 
The conclusion is equally, or more, impotent 
in all the versions in which the girl escapes 
from drowning. In G, I, J, she seats herself 
on a stone, and apostrophizes her hair, saying 
[in G, I], " Dry, my locks, dry, for you have 
had much pleasure in the river ! " She goes to 
church, takes an humble place, and weeps, in 
E, F, G, as in B, C, D. John goes scot-free 
in all these, ij: Not so in the more vigorous 

of the kind occurs three times in X, four times in B, five 
times in P ; in other ballads also. In Q 25, Catherine 
clutches the river bank, and John pushes away her hands. 
Compare ' The Two Sisters,' F 9, further on in this volume. 
J L, L*, M, N, as already said, confuse the two catas- 
trophes. John says, in N, " Do you see that broad river ' 
I will measure its depth by throwing you in." We may as- 
sume that he was as good as his word. But Ursula made 
her way home through woods and forests, weeping her eyes 
out on the way. Kind souls dug a grave for her. The con- 
clusion of M is absurd, but need not be particularized. G 



ballads of tragic termination. Fierce pursuit 
is made for him. He is cut to pieces, or torn 
to pieces, O, P, S, T, Y ; broken on the wheel, 
L, U, V, "W ; cleft in two, BB ; broken small 
as barley-corns, or quartered, by horses, L*, Z ; 
committed to a dungeon, to await, as we may 
hope, one of these penalties, Q, R. The bells 
toll for Catherine [the organs play for her], 
and she is laid in the grave, O-W, Y, Z, L, L*. 
There are, besides, in various ballads of this 
second class, special resemblances to other 
European forms. The man (to whom rank 
of any sort is assigned only in N *) comes 
from a distant country, or from over the bor- 
der, in O, Q, R, T, DD, GG, as in English D, 
B. The maid is at a window in M, W, as in 
German G, J, M, O, P, Q, etc. In Q 2, John, 
who has come from over the border, persuades 
the maid to go with him by telling her that in 
his country "the mountains are golden, the 
mountains are of gold, the ways of silk," re- 
minding us of the wonderland in Danish A, 
E, etc. After the pair have stolen away, they 
go one hundred and thirty miles, O, DD, FF ; 
thrice nine miles, Q ; nine and a half miles, T ; 
cross one field and another, M, R ; travel all 
night, GG ; and neither says a word to the 
other. We shall find this trait further on in 
French B, D, Italian B, C, D, F, G. The 
choice of deaths which we find in German A- 
F appears in J. Here, after passing through 
a silent wood, they arrive at the border of the 
(red) sea. She sits down on a stone, he on a 
rotten tree. He asks, By which death will 
you die : by my right hand, or by drowning 
in this river ? They come to a dark wood in 
AA ; he seats himself on a beech-trunk, she 
near a stream. He asks, Will you throw your- 
self into the river, or go home to your mother? 
So H, and R nearly.f She prefers death to 
returning. Previous victims are mentioned in 

has a passage of the sternest theology. While Catherine is 
struggling in the water, her father comes by. She cries to 
him to save her. He says, " My dear Catherine, you have 
loved pleasure too much. Lord Jesus grant you drown!" 
Her mother appears, and makes the same reply to her 
daughter's appeal. There are stall-copy terminal morals to 
many of the ballads. 

* N 1, " A lord came riding from his estate to a neigh- 
bor." • 


T, DD, HH. When she calls from the river 
for help, he answers, T 22, You fancy you are 
the only one there ; six have gone before, and 
you are the seventh: HH 16, Swim the river; 
go down to the bottom ; six maids are there 
already, and you shall be the seventh [four, 
fifth] : DD 13, Swim, swim away, to the other 
side ; there you will see my seventh wife.ij: 

Other Slavic forms of this ballad resem- 
ble more or less the third German class. A 
Wendish version from Upper Lusatia, Haupt 
and Schmaler, Part I, No 1, p. 27, makes Hil- 
zicka (Lizzie) go out before dawn to cut grass. 
Holdrask suddenly appears, and says she must 
pay him some forfeit for trespassing in his 
wood. She has nothing but her sickle, her 
silver finger-ring, and, when these are rejected, 
her wreath, and that, she says, he shall not 
have if she dies for it. Holdrask, who avows 
that he has had a fancy for her seven years 
(cf. German Y, and the Transylvanian mixed 
form B), gives her her choice, to be cut to 
pieces by his sword, or trampled to death by 
his horse. Which way pleases him, she says, 
only she begs for three cries. All three are 
for her brothers. They ride round the wood 
twice, seeing nobody ; the third time Hol- 
drask comes up to them. Then follows the 
dialogue about the bloody sword and the dove. 
When asked where he has left HilziSka, Hot- 
drasi^ is silent. The elder brother seizes him, 
the younger dispatches him with his sword. 

Very similar is a Bohemian ballad, trans- 
lated in Waldau's Bohmische Granaten, ii, 
25.§ While Katie is cutting gi*ass, early in 
the morning, Indriasch presents himself, and 
demands some for his horse. She says. You 
must dismount, if your horse is to have grass. 
"If I do, I will take away your wreath." 
" Then God will not grant you his blessing." 
He springs from his horse, and while he gives 

t The place is high above the water in R 10, 11, as in 
English D 9, 29, C 4. 

X BB 6, " My mother said that I had seen you ; she will 
watch me closely," may be an accidental coincidence with 
Danish A 7-9, B 6-8, etc. 

§ The second, and more valuable, volume of "Waldau's B. 
G. I have found it impossible to obtain. ReifFerscheid cites 
the ballad at p. 166. 



it grass with one hand snatches at the wreath 
with the other. . " Will you die, or surrender 
your wreath ? " Take my life, she says, but 
allow me three cries. Two cries reached no 
human ear, but the third cry her mother heard^ 
and called to her sons to saddle, for Katie was 
calling in the wood, and was in trouble. They 
rode over stock and stone, and came to a brook 
where Indriasch was washing his hands. The 
same dialogue ensues as in the Wendish bal- 
lad. The brothers hewed the murderer into 

A Servian ballad has fainter but unmistak- 
able traces of the same tradition : Vuk, Srpske 
Narodne Pjesme, i, 282, No 385, ed. 1841 ; 
translated by Goetze, Serbische V. L., p. 99, 
by Talvj, V. L. der Serben, 2d ed., ii, 172, by 
Kapper, Gesange der Serben, II, 318. Mara 
is wajned by her mother not to dance with 
Thomas. She disobeys. Thomas, while danc- 
ing, gives a sign to his servants to bring 
horses. The two ride off, and when they 
come to the end of a field Thomas says, 
Seest thou yon withered maple ? There thou 
shalt hang, ravens eat out thine eyes, eagles 
beat thee with their wings. Mara shrieks, 
Ah me ! so be it with every girl that does 
not take her mother's advice.* 

French. This ballad is well known in 
France, and is generally found in a form re- 
sembling the English ; that is to say, the scene 
of the attempted murder is the sea or a river 
(as in no other but the Polish), and the lady 
delivers herself by an artifice. One French 
version nearly approaches Polish O-CC. 

A. * Renauld et ses quatorze Femmes,' 44 
vv, Paymaigre, Chants populaires recueillis 
dans le pays messin, No 31, I, 140. Renauld 
carried off the king's daughter. When they 
were gone half-way, she called to him that 
she was dying of hunger (cf. German A-P). 
Eat your hand, he answered, for you will 
never eat bread again. When they had come 
to the middle of the wood, she called out that 

* A few silly verses follow in the original, in which 
Thomas treats what he had said as a jest. These are prop- 
erly rejected by Talvj as a spurious appendage, 
t * De achte de soil Helena sin, 
De achte de most he scilwer sin.' 

German A b 13. 

she was dying of thirst. Drink your blood, 
he said, for you will never drink wine again. 
When they came to the edge of the wood, he 
said. Do you see that river ? Fourteen dames 
have been drowned there, and you shall be 
the fifteenth. When they came to the river- 
bank, he bade her put off her cloak, her shift. 
It is not for knights, she said, to see ladies 
in such plight ; they should bandage their 
eyes with a handkerchief. This Renauld did, 
and the fair one threw him into the river. 
He laid hold of a branch ; she cut it off with 
his sword (cf. the Polish ballad, where the 
catastrophe, and consequently this act, is re- 
versed). " What will they say if you go back 
without your lover ? " "I will tell them that 
I did for you what you meant to do for me." f 
" Reach me your hand; I will marry you Sun- 

" Marry, many a fish, Renauld, 
The fourteen women down below." 

B. ' De Dion et de la Fille du Roi,' from 
Auvergne, Ampere, Instructions, etc., 40 vv, 
p. 40, stanzas 15-24, the first fourteen consti- 
tuting another ballad. J The pair went five or 
six leagues without exchanging a word ; only 
the fair one said, I am so hungry I could 
eat my fist. Eat it, replied Dion, for you 
never again will eat bread. Then they went 
five or six leagues in silence, save that she 
said, I am so thirsty I could drink my blood. 
"Drink it, for you never will drink wine. 
Over there is a pond in which fifteen ladies 
have had a bath, have drowned themselves, 
and you will make sixteen." Arrived at the 
pond, he orders her to take off her clothes. 
She tells him to put his sword under his feet, 
his cloak before his face, and turn to the pond ; 
and, when he has done so, pushes him in. 
Here are my keys ! he cries. " I don't want 
them ; I will find locksmiths." " What will 
your friends say ? " "I will tell them I did 
by you as you would have done by me." 

C. ' Veux-tu venir, bell' Jeanneton,' 32 vv, 

t Another version of this double ballad, but much cor- 
rupted in the second part, was known to Gerard de Nerval. 
See Les Filles du Feu, CEuvres completes, v, 132. 



from Poitou and Aunis, Bujeaud, n, 232. 
When they reach the water, the fair one asks 
for a drink. The man says, incoherently 
enough, Before drinking of this white wine I 
mean to di-ink your blood. The stanza that 
should tell how many have been drowned be- 
fore is lost. Jeanneton, having been ordered 
to strip, pushes the " beau galant " into the 
sea, while, at her request, he is pulling off her 
stockings. He catches at a branch ; she cuts 
it off, and will not hear to his entreaties. 

D. ' En revenant de la jolie Rochelle,' twelve 
two-line stanzas, Gagnon, Chansons populaires 
du Canada, p. 155. A cavalier meets three 
fair maids, mounts the fairest behind him, and 
rides a hundred leagues without speaking to 
her, at the end of which she asks to drink. 
He takes her to a spring, but when there she 
does not care to drink. The rest of the bal- 
lad is pointless, and shows that the original 
story has been completely forgotten. 

E. ' Belle, allons nous ^promener,' from the 
Lyonnais, 28 vv, Champfleury, Chansons des 
Provinces, p. 172, is like C, but still more de- 
fective. The pair go to walk by "la mer 
courante." There is no order for the lady 
to strip : on the contrary, she cries, D^sha- 
billez-moi, d^chaussez-moi ! and, while the 
man is drawing off her shoe, " la belle avance 
un coup de pied, le beau galant tombe dans 

P. ' Allons, mie, nous promener,' 32 vv. 
Poesies populaires de la France, MS., Ill, fol. 
84, No 16, is like C. The lady asks the man 
to pull off her shoes before he kills her. The 
man clutches a branch ; the woman cuts it 

G. ' Le Traitre Noy^,' Chants pop. du Ve- 
lay et du Forez, Romania, X, 199, is like E, P. 

H. ' La Fillette et le Chevalier,' Victor 
Smith, Chants pop. du Velay et du Forez, 
Romania, x, 198, resembles the common Pol- 
ish ballad. Pierre rouses his love early in the 
morning, to take a ride with him. He mounts 
her on his horse, and when they come to a lone- 
some wood bids her alight, for it is the last of 
her days. He plunges his sword into her heart, 
and throws her into a river. Her father and 
mother come searching for her, and are in- 

formed of her fate by a shepherdess, who had 
witnessed the murder. The youngest of her 
three brothers plunges into the water, ex- 
claiming. Who threw you in ? An angel de- 
scends, and tells him it was her lover. A less f 
romantic version, described in a note, treats of 
a valet who is tired of an amour with a ser- I 
vant-girl. He is judicially condemned to be ■ 
hanged or burned. 

' La Fille de Saint-Martin de ITle,' Bujeaud, 
n, 226, has the conclusion of the third class 
of German ballads. A mother incites her son 
to make away with his wife. He carries her 
off on his horse to a wheat-field [wood], and 
kills her with sword and dagger. Returning, 
he meets his wife's brother, who asks why his 
shoes are covered with blood. He says he has 
been killing rabbits. The brother replies, I 
see by your paleness that you have been kill- 
ing my sister. So Gerard de Nerval, Les Filles 
du Feu, CEuvres Com., v, 134, and La Boheme 
galante (1866), p. 79 : ' Rosine,' Chants pop. 
du Velay, etc., Romania, x, 197. 

The ballad is known over all North Italy, 
and always nearly in one shape. 

A. ' Monchisa,' sixty-four short verses, Ber- 
noni, Canti popolari veneziani, Puntata V, No 
2. A count's son asks Monchesa, a knight's 
daughter, in marriage in the evening, espouses 
her in the morning, and immediately carries 
her off. When they are " half-way," she 
heaves a sigh, which she says is for father and 
mother, whom she shall no more see. The 
count points out his castle ; he has taken thirty- 
six maids there, robbed them of their honor, 
and cut off their heads. " So will I do with you 
when we are there." The lady says no word 
till she is asked why she is silent ; then re- 
quests the count to lend her his sword ; she 
wishes to cut a branch to shade her horse. 
The moment she gets the sword in her hand, 
she plunges it into his heart ; then throws the' 
body into a ditch. On her way back, she 
meets her brother, whom she tells that she is 
looking after the assassins who have killed her 
husband. He fears it was she ; this she de- 
nies, but afterwards says she must go to Rome 
to confess a great sin. There she obtains 
prompt absolution. 



B. ' La Figlia del Conte,' Adolf Wolf, Volks- 
lieder aus Venetien, No 73, a, 34 vv, b, 48 
vv. Here it is the daughter of a count that 
marries Malpreso, the son of a knight. He 
takes her to France immediately. She goes 
sixty miles (b) without speaking. She con- 
fesses to her brother what she has done. 

C. Righi, Canti popolari veronesi, 58 vv, No 
94*, p. 30. The count's son marries Mam- 
presa, a knight's daughter. For thirty-six 
miles she does not speak ; after five more she 
sighs. She denies to her brother having 
killed her husband, but still says she must go 
to the pope to confess an old sin ; then owns 
what she has done. 

D. ' La Monferrina,' 48 vv. Nigra, Canzoni 
popolari del Piemonte, in Rivista Contempo- 
ranea, xxiv, 76. The lady is a Monferrina, 
daughter of a knight. After the marriage 
they travel fifty miles without speaking to one 
another. Fifty-two Monferrine have lost their 
heads ; the bridegroom does not say why. She 
goes to the Pope to confess. 

B. ' La Vendicatrice,' an incomplete copy 
from Alexandria, 18 w only, Marcoaldi, Canti 
popolari. No 12, p. 166, like D, as far as it 
goes. Thirty-three have been beheaded before. 

P. ' La Inglese,' 40 vv, Ferraro, Canti po- 
polari di Ferrara, Cento e Pontelagoscuro, No 
2, p. 14. The count's son marries an English 
girl, daughter of a knight. She never speaks 
for more than three hundred miles ; after two 
hundred more she sighs. She denies having 
killed her husband ; has not a heart of that 

G. ' La Liberatrice,' 24 vv, Ferraro, Canti 
popolari monferrini, No 3, p. 4. Gianfleisa is 
the lady's name. When invited to go off, she 
says, If you wish me to go, lend me a horse. 
Not a word is spoken for five hundred miles. 
The man (Gilardu) points out his castle, and 
says that no one he has taken there has ever 
come back. Gianfleisa goes home without 
meeting anybody. 

' Laura,' Ferraro, C. p. di Pontelagoscuro, 
Rivista di Filologia romanza, U, 197, and C. 
p. di Ferrara, etc., p. 86, is a mixture of this 
ballad with another. Cf. ' La Maledetta,' Fer- 
raro, C. p. monferrini, No 27, p. 35. 

Several other French and Italian ballads 
have common points with Renauld, Monchisa, 
etc., and for this have sometimes been improp- 
erly grouped with them : e. g., ' La Filie des 
Sables,' Bujeaud, ii, 177 ff. A girl sitting by 
the water-side hears a sailor sing, and asks 
him to teach her the song. He says. Come 
aboard, and I will. He pushes off, and by 
and by she begins to weep.* She says, My 
father is calling me to supper. " You will 
sup with me." " My mother is calling me to 
bed." " You will sleep with me." They go 
a hundred leagues, and not a word said, and 
at last reach his father's castle. When she is 
undressing, her lace gets into a knot. He sug- 
gests that his sword would cut it. She plunges 
the sword into her heart. So ' Du Beau Ma- 
rinier,' Beaurepaire, p. 57 f, and Poesies pop- 
ulaires de la France, MS., m, fol. 59, No 
4 ; ' L'Ep^e Liberatrice,' V. Smith, Chansons 
du Velay, etc., Romania, vii, 69, nearly ; 
also * II Corsaro,' Nigra, Rivista Contempo- 
ranea, xxiv, p. 86 ff. In ' La Monferrina In- 
contaminata,' Ferraro, C. p. m.. No 2, p. 3, a 
French knight invites a girl to go off with 
him, and mounts her behind him. They ride 
five hundred miles without speaking, then 
reach an inn, after which the story is the 
same. So Bemoni, Puntata IX, No 2. ' La 
Fille du Patissier,' Paymaigre, No 30, p. 93, 
has the same conclusion. All these, except 
' La Fille des Sables,' make the girl ask for 
the sword herself, and in all it is herself that 
she kills. 

The Spanish preserves this ballad in a sin- 
gle form, the earliest printed in any language, 
preceding, by a few years, even the German 
broadsides G, H. 

' Romance de Rico Franco,' 36 vv, " Cancio- 
nero de Romances, s. a., fol. 191 : Cane, de 
Rom., ed. de 1550, fol. 202 : ed. de 1555, fol. 
296 ; " Wolf and Hofmann, Primavera, No 
119, n, 22 : Duran, No 296, i, 160 : Grimm, 
p. 252: Depping and^Galiano, 1844, ii, 167: 
Ochoa, p. 7. The king's huntsmen got no 
game, and lost the falcons. They betook them- 

* So far there is agreement in ' La Fille du Prince,* Pay- 
maigre, No 32, p. 106 ; Poesies pop. de la France, MS., iii, 
fol. 133. 



selves to the castle of Maynes, where was a 
beautiful damsel, sought by seven counts and 
three kings. Rico Franco of Aragon carried 
her off by force. Nothing is said of a rest in 
a wood, or elsewhere ; but that something has 
dropped out here is shown by the correspond- 
ing Portuguese ballad. The lady wept. Rico 
Franco comforted her thus : If you are weep- 
ing for father and mother, you shall never see 
them more ; and if for your brothers, I have 
killed them all three. I am not weeping for 
them, she said, but because I know not what 
my fate is to be. Lend me your knife to cut 
the fringes from my mantle, for they are no 
longer fit to wear. This Rico Franco did, and 
the damsel thrust the knife into his breast. 
Thus she avenged father, mother, and broth- 

A Portuguese ballad has recently been ob- 
tained from tradition in the island Of St. 
George, Azores, which resembles the Spanish 
closely, but is even curter : A, ' Romance de 
Dom Franco,' 30 vv ; B, ' Dona Inez,' a frag- 
ment of 18 vv ; Braga, Cantos populares do 
Archipelago a^oriano, No 48, p. 316, No 49, 
p. 317: Hartung's Romanceiro, ii, 61, 63. 
Dona Inez was so precious in the eyes of her 
parents that they gave her neither to duke 
nor marquis. A knight who was passing [the 
Duke of Turkey, B] took a fancy to her, and 
stole her away. When they came to the mid- 
dle of the mountain ridge on which Dona Inez 
lived, the knight stopped to rest, and she be- 
gan to weep. From this point Portuguese A, 
and B so far as it is preserved, agree very 
nearly with the Spanish.* 

Certain Breto n ballads have points of con- 
tact with the Halewyn-Ulinger class, but, like 
the French and Italian ballads mentioned on 
the preceding page, have more important di- 
vergences, and especially the characteristic dis- 
tinction that the woman kills herself to pre- 
serve her honor. 1. ' Jeanne Le Roux,' Luzel, 

* The Asturian romance communicated in two copies by 
Amador de los Rios to Jahrbuch fiir rom. u. eng. Literatur, 
III, 285, No 2, and the Portuguese ' Komance de Romei- 
rinha,' Braga, Romanceiro, No 9, p. 24, ' A Romeira,' Al- 
meida-Garrett, iii, 11, are not parallels, though they have 
been cited as such. 

t Magyar N^pkolt^si Gyiijtemeny. Uj Folyam, szerkesz- 

I, 324 ff, in two versions ; Poesies pop. de la 
France, MS., Ill, fol. 182. The sieur La 
Tremblaie attempts the abduction of Jeanne 
from the church immediately after her mar- 
riage ceremony. As he is about to compel 
her to get up on the crupper of his horse, she 
asks for a knife to cut her bridal girdle, which 
had been drawn too tight. He gives her the 
choice of three, and she stabs herself in the 
heart. La Tremblaie remarks, I have car- 
ried off eighteen young brides, and Jeanne is 
the nineteenth, words evidently taken from 
the mouth of a Halewyn, and not belonging 
here. 2. Le Marquis de Coatredrez, Luzel, i, 
336 ff, meets a young girl on the road, going 
to the pardon of Gu^odet, and forces her on 
to his horse. On the way and at his house 
she vainly implores help. He takes her to the 
garden to gather flowers. She asks for his 
knife to shorten the stems, and kills herself. 
Early in the morning the door of the chateau 
is broken in by Kerninon, foster-brother of 
the victim, who forces Coatredrez to fight, 
and runs him through. 3. ' Rozmelchon,' Lu- 
zel, I, 308 ff, in three versions, and, 4, ' La Fil- 
leule de du Guesclin,' Villemarqud, Barzaz- 
Breiz, 6th ed., 212 ff, are very like 2. The 
wicked Rozmelchon is burned in his chateau 
in Luzel's first copy ; the other two do not 
bring him to punishment. Villemarqu^'s vil- 
lain is an Englishman, and has his head cloven 
by du Guesclin. 5. ' Marivonnic,' Luzel, i, 
350 ff, a pretty young girl, is carried off by 
an English vessel, the captain of which shows 
himself not a whit behind the feudal seign- 
eurs in ferocity. The young girl throws her- 
self into the water. 

Magyar. Five versions from recent tradi- 
tions, all of them interesting, are given in 
Arany and Gyulai's collection of Hungarian 
popular poetry, ' Molndr Anna,' i, 137 ff, 
Nos l-S.f — A, p. 141, No 3. A man, name- 
less here, but called in the other versions 

tik ^s kiadjak Arany Laszld e's Gyulai Pal. Collection of 
Magyar Popular Poetry, New Series, Pest, 1872, 2 vols. 
Aigner, has blended Nos 4 and 3 (C, A) in ' Martin nnd 
A.ennchen,' Ungarische Volksdichtungen, p. 170, and has 
translated No 1 (E), at p. 120, ' Molnar Anna,' in each case 
obscuring or omitting one or two traits which are impor- 
tant for a comparative view. 



Martin Ajg6, or Martin Sajg<5, invites Anna 
Miller to go off with him. She refuses ; she 
has a young child and a kind husband. 
" Come," he says ; " I have six palaces, and 
will put you in the seventh," and persists so 
long that he prevails at last. They went a 
long way, till they came to the middle of a 
green wood. He asked her to sit down in the 
shade of a branchy tree (so all) ; he would 
lie in her lap, and she was to look into his 
head (a point found in all the copies). But 
look not up into the tree, he said. He went 
to sleep (so B, D) ; she looked up into the 
tree, and saw six fair maids hanging there 
(so all but E). She thought to herself, He 
will make me the seventh ! (also B, D). A 
tear fell on the face of the " brave sir," and 
waked him. You have looked up into the 
tree, he said. " No, but three orphans passed, 
and I thought of my child." He bade her 
go up into the tree. She was not used to go 
first, she said. He led the way. She seized 
the opportunity, tore his sword from its sheath 
(so C), and hewed off his head. She then 
wrapped herself in his cloak, sprang upon his 
horse, and returned home, where (in all the 
copies, as in this) she effected a reconcilement 
with her husband. B, p. 138, No 2, agrees 
closely with the foregoing. Martin Ajg6 calls 
to Anna Miller to come with him a long way 
into the wilderness (so D, B). He boasts of 
no palaces in this version. He calls Anna a 
long time, tempts her a long time, drags her 
on to his horse, and carries her off. The scene 
under the tree is repeated. Anna pretends 
(so D, E) that the tear which drops on Mar- 
tin's face is dew from the tree, and he retorts. 
How can it be dew from the tree, when the 
time is high noon ? His sword falls out of 
its sheath as he is mounting the tree, and he 
asks her to hand it to him. She throws it 
up (so E), and it cuts his throat in two. 
Rightly served, Martin Ajg6, she says : why 
did you lure me from home? C, p. 144, 
No 4. Martin Sajg6 tells Anna Miller that 
he has six stone castles, and is building a 
seventh. It is not said that he goes to sleep. 
As in A, Anna pulls his sword from the scab- 
bard. D, p. 146, No 5. Here reappears the 

v6ry important feature of the wonderland : 
" Come, let us go, Anna Miller, a long jour- 
ney into the wilderness, to a place that flows 
with milk and honey." Anna insists, as be- 
fore, that Martin shall go up the tree first. 
He puts down his sword ; she seizes it, and 
strikes off his head with one blow. E, p. 137, 
No 1, is somewhat defective, but agrees essen- 
tially with the others. Martin Ajg6 calls 
Anna ; she will not come ; he carries her off. 
He lets his sword fall as he is climbing, and 
asks Anna to hand it up to him. She throws 
it up, as in B, and it cuts his back in two. 

Neus, in his Ehstnische Volkslieder, main- 
tains the affinity of ' Kallewisohnes Tod,' No 
2, p. 5, with the Ulinger ballads, and even of 
his Holepi with the Dutch Halewyn. The 
resemblance is of the most distant, and what 
there is must be regarded as casual. The same 
of the Finnish ' Kojoins Sohn,' Schroter, Fin- 
nische Runen, p. 114, 115; ' Kojosen Poika,' 
Lonnrot, Kanteletar, p. 279. 

In places where a ballad has once been 
known, the story will often be remembered 
after the verses have been wholly or partly 
forgotten, and the ballad will be resolved into \ 
a prose tale, retaining, perhaps, some scraps of i 
verse, and not infrequently taking up new j 
matter, or blending with other traditions. Nat- j 
urally enough, a ballad and an equivalent tale ! 
sometimes exist side by side. It has already [ 
been mentioned that Jamieson, who had not 
found this ballad in Scotland, had often come 
upon the story in the form of a tale inter- 
spersed with verse. Birlinger at one time (1860) 
had not been able to obtain the ballad in the 
Swabian Oberland (where it has since been 
found in several forms), but only a story 
agreeing essentially with the second class of 
German ballads. According to this tradition, 
a robber, who was at the same time a porten- 
tous magician, enticed the twelve daughters 
of a miller, one after another, into' a wood, 
and hanged eleven of them on a tree, but 
was arrested by a hunter, the brother of the 
twelve, before he could dispatch the last, and 
was handed over to justice. The object of 
the murders was to obtain blood for magical 
purposes. This story had, so to speak, natu- 



ralized itself in the locality, and the place 
where the robber's house had been and that 
where the tree had stood were pointed out. 
The hunter-brother -was by some conceived 
of as the Wild Huntsman, and came to the 
rescue through the air with a fearful baying 
of dogs. (Birlinger in Volksthiimliches aus 
Schwaben, i, 368, No 592, and Germania, 1st 
Ser., V, 372.) 

The story of the German ballad P has at- 
tached itself to localities in the neighborhood 
of Weissenbach, Aargau, and is told with mod- 
ifications that connect it with the history of 
the Guggi-, or Schongauer-, bad. A rich man 
by lewd living had become a leper. The devil 
put it into his head that he could be cured by 
bathing in the blood of twelve [seven] pure 
maidens. He seized eleven at a swoop, while 
they were on their way to church, and hanged 
them, and the next day enticed away a miller's 
daughter, who was delivered from death as in 
the ballad. A medicinal spring rose near the 
fatal tree. (Rochholz, i, 22.) No pure version 
of this ballad has been obtained in the Harz 
region, though a mixed form has already been 
spoken of ; but ' Der Reiter in Seiden,' Prohle, 
Marchen fiir die Jugend, No 32, p. 136, which 
comes from the western Harz, or from some 
place further north, on the line between Kyff- 
haiiser and Hamburg, is, roughly speaking, 
only ' Gert Olbert ' turned into prose, with a 
verse or two remaining. ' Der betrogene Be- 
triiger,' from Miihlbach, Miiller's Siebenbiirg- 
ische Sagen, No 418, p. 309, has for its hero 
a handsome young man, addicted to women, 
who obtains from the devil the power of mak- 
ing them follow his piping, on the terms that 
every twelfth soul is to be the devil's share. 
He had taken eleven to a wood, and hanged 
them on a tree after he had satisfied his de- 
sire. The brother of a twelfth substituted 
himself for his sister, dressed in her clothes, 
snatched the rope from the miscreant, and ran 
him up on the nearest bough ; upon which a 
voice was heard in the wind, that cried The 
twelfth soul is mine. Grundtvig, in his En- 
gelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 249, gives his 
recollections of a story that he had heard in 
his youth which has a catastrophe resembling 

that of English C-P. A charcoal burner had 
a way of taking up women beside him on his 
wagon, and driving them into a wood, where 
he forced them to take off their clothes, then 
killed them, and sunk them with heavy stones 
in a deep moss. At last a girl whom he had 
carried off in this way got the advantage of 
him by inducing him to turn away while she 
was undressing, and then pushing him into 
the moss. Something similar is found in the 
conclusion of a robber story in Grundtvig's 
Danske Folkeminder, 1861, No 30, p. 108, 
and in a modern Danish ballad cited in Dan- 
marks gamle Folkeviser, iv, 24, note.** 

Another Transylvanian tale, Schuster, p. 
433, has a fountain, a thirsty bride, and doves 
(two or three) that sing to her, traits which 
have perhaps been derived from some Ulinger 
ballad ; but the fountain is of an entirely dif- 
ferent character, and the doves serve a differ- 
ent purpose. The tale is a variety of ' Fitch- 
ers Vogel,' Grimms, No 46, and belongs to the 
class of stories to which * Bluebeard,' from its 
extensive popularity, has given name. The 
magician of ' Fitcher's Vogel ' and of ' Blue- 
beard' becomes, or remains, a preternatural 
being (a hill-man) further north, as in Grundt- 
vig's Gamle danske Minder, 1857, No 312, p. 
182. There is a manifest aflBnity between 
these three species of tales and our ballad 
(also between the German and Danish tales 
and the Scandinavian ballad of 'Rosmer'), 
but the precise nature of this affinity it is im- 
possible to expound. ' Bluebeard,' ' La Barbe 
Bleue,' Perrault, Histoires ou Contes du temps 
pass^, 1697, p. 57 (Lefevre), has a special re- 
semblance to the German ballads of the second 
class in the four calls to sister Anne, which 
represent the cries to father, mother, and broth- 
er, and agrees with these ballads as to the 
means by which the death of the malefactor 
is brought about. 

Looking back now over the whole field cov- j 
ered by this ballad, we observe that the frame- 
work of the story is essentially the same in 
English, Dutch, Danish, Swedish, Norwegian ; 
in the first class of the German ballads ; in 
Polish A; in French, Italian, Spanish, Por- 
tuguese, and Magyar. The woman delivers 




herself from death by some artifice,* and re- 
taliates upon the man the destruction he had 
intended for her. The second form of the Ger- 
man ballad attributes the deliverance of the 
woman to her brother, and also the punish- 
ment of the murderer. The third form of the 
German ballad makes the woman lose her life, 
and her murderer, for the most part, to suffer 
the penalty of the law, though in some cases 
the brother takes immediate vengeance. Polish 
B-K may be ranked with the second German 
class, and O-CC still better with the third ; 
but the brother appears in only a few of these, 
and, when he appears, counts for nothing. The 
Wendish and the Bohemian ballad have the 
incident of fraternal vengeance, though other- 
wise less like the German. The Servian bal- 
lad, a slight thing at best, is still less like, but 
ranks with the third German class. The old- 
est Icelandic copy is altogether anomalous, and 
also incomplete, but seems to imply the death 
of the woman : later copies suffer the woman 
to escape, without vengeance upon the mur- 

It is quite beyond question that the third 
class of German ballad is a derivation from 
the second.f Of the versions T-Z, Z alone has 
preserved clear traits of the marvellous. A 
king's daughter is enticed from home by Ul- 
rich's singing, and is warned of her impending 
fate by the dove, as in Class II. The otlier 
ballads have the usual marks of degeneracy, 
a dropping or obscuring of marvellous and 
romantic incidents, and a declension in the 
rank and style of the characters. T, to be 
sure, has a hazel, and Y a tree-stump and a 
spring, and in T Ulrich offers to teach Ann- 
chen bird-song, but these traits have lost all 
significance. Knight and lady sink to ordinary 
man and maid ; for though in Y the woman is 
called a king's daughter, the opening stanzas 
of Y are borrowed from a different ballad. 
Ulrich retains so much of the knight that he 
rides to Xnnchen's house, in the first stanza 

of T, but he apparently goes on foot with her 
to the wood, and this is the rule in all the 
other ballads of this class. As Ulrich has lost 
his horse, so the brother^ in T, U, V, X, has 
lost his sword, or the use of it, and in all these 
(also, superfluously, in W) Ulrich, like a com- 
mon felon as he was, is broken on the wheel. 

That the woman should save her life by her 
own craft and courage is certainly a more 
primitive conception than that she should de- 
pend upon her brother, and the priority of 
this arrangement of the plot is supported, if 
not independently proved, by the concurrence, 
as to this point, of so manj'^ copies among so 
many nations, as also by the accordance of 
various popular tales. The second German 
form must therefore, so far forth, be regarded 
as a modification of the first. Among the sev- 
eral devices, again, which the woman employs 
in order to get the murderer into her power, 
the original would seem to be her inducing him 
to lay his head in her lap, which gives her the 
opportunity (by the use of charms or runes, in 
English A, Danish G, Norwegian F, H, and 
one form of B) to put him into a deep sleep. 
The success of this trick no doubt implies 
considerable simplicity on the part of the vic- 
tim of it ; not more, however, than is else- 
whei'e witnessed in preternatural beings, whose 
wits are frequently repi*esented as no match for 
human shrewdness. Some of the Scandina- 
vian ballads are not liable to the full force of 
this objection, whatever that may be, for they 
make the knight express a suspicion of treach- 
ery, and the lady solemnly asseverate that she 
will not kill [fool, beguile] him in his sleep. 
And so, when he is fast bound, she cries out, 
Wake up, for I will not kill thee in thy 
sleep ! This last circumstance is wanting in 
hardly any of the Scandinavian ballads, where- 
as the previous compact is found only in Dan- 
ish B, F, G, H, L, Swedish A, Norwegian A, 
and the Icelandic ballad. Not occurring in 
any of the older Danish copies, it may be that 

* Very little remains of the artifice in Polish A. The 
idea seems to be that the girl pretends to be curious about 
the sword in order to get it into her hands. But the whole 
8tory is told in ten stanzas. 

t I accept and repeat Grnndtvig's views as to the relation 

of the three forms of the story. And with regard to the his- 
tory of the ballad generally, this is but one of many cases in 
which much or most of the work had been done to my hand 
in Danmarks gamle Folkeviser. 



f the compact is an after-thought, and was in- 
I serted to qualify the improbability. But the 
lady's equivocation is quite of a piece with 
Memering's oath in ' Ravengaard and Memer- 
ing,' Grundtvig, No 13, and King Dietrich's 
in the Dietrichsaga, linger, c. 222, p. 206.* 

English A and all the Danish, Swedish, and 
Norwegian ballads employ the stratagem of 
lulling the man to sleep, but these are not the 
only ballads in which the man lays his head 
in the woman's lap. This trait is observed 
in nearly all German ballads of the second 
and third class, in all the well-preserved ones, 
and also in the Magyar ballad. With regard 
to the German ballads, however, it is purpose- 
less (for it does not advance the action of the 
^y drama in the least), and must be regarded as 
a relic of an earlier form.f English B-P and 
all the French ballads dispose of the traitor 
by a watery death. The scene is shifted from 
a wood to a sea-coast, pool, or river bank, per- 
haps to suit the locality to which the ballad 
had wandered. In English B, where, appar- 
ently under the influence of other ballads,^ the 
lady is forced to wade into water up to her 
chin, the knight is pushed off his horse when 
bending over to give a last kiss for which he 
had been asked ; in English C-F and French 
A, B, the man is induced to turn his face to 
save the woman's modesty ; in French C-E he 
is made to pull off her stockings or shoes, and 
then, while off his guard, pitched into a sea or 
river. This expedient is suflBciently trivial ; 
but still more so, and grazing on the farcical, 
is that which is made use of in the Dutch bal- 
lad and those of the German first class, the 
woman's persuading the man to take off his 
fine coat lest it should be spattered with her 
blood, and cutting off his head with his own 
sword while he is thus occupied. The Span- 
ish and Portuguese ballads make the lady bor- 

* Memering was required by his adversary to swear that 
he knew not of the sword Adehing, and took his oath that 
he knew of nothing but the hilt being above ground, which 
was accepted as satisfactory. Presently he pulls Adelring 
out of the ground, into which he had thrust the blade, and, 
being accused of perjury, triumphantly rejoins that he had 
sworn that he knew of nothing but the hilt being above ground. 
Dietrich does the same in his duel with Sigurd Swain. 

t Magyar A is entirely peculiar. Apparently the man 

row the knight's knife to remove some of the 
trimming of her dress, and in the Italian she 
borrows his sword to cut a bough to shade her 
horse ; for in Italian the halt in the wood is 
completely forgotten, and the last half of the 
action takes place on horseback. All these 
contrivances plainly have less claim to be re- 
garded as primary than that of binding the 
murderer after he has been put to sleep. 

The knight in English A is called an Elf, 
and as such is furnished with an enchanting 
horn, which is replaced by a harp of similar 
properties in B, where, however, the male 
personage has neither name nor any kind of 
designation. The elf-horn of English A is 
again represented by the seductive song of the 
Dutch ballad and of German G-R and Z. 
Though the lady is not lured away in the 
Scandinavian ballads by irresistible nmsic,§ 
Danish A, B, Norwegian A, B, and Swedish 
D present to her the prospect of being taken 
to an elf-land, or elysium, and there are traces 
of this in Danish G and D also, and in Pol- 
ish Q. The tongue that talks after the head 
is off, in the Dutch ballad^ and in German A, 
B, C, B, is another mark of an unearthly 
being. Halewyn, Ulver, Gert Olbert, like the 
English knight, are clearly supernatural, 
though of a nondescript type. The elf in i 
English A is not to be interpreted too strictly, 
for the specific elf is not of a sanguinary turn, 
as these so conspicuously are. He is compar- 
atively innocuous, like the hill-man Young 
Akin, in another English ballad, who likewise 
entices away a woman by magical music, but 
only to make her his wife. But the elf-knight 
and the rest seem to delight in bloodshed for 
its own sake ; for, as Grundtvig has pointed 
out, there is no other apparent motive for 
murder in English A, B, the Norwegian bal- 
lads, Danish A, Swedish A, B, or German 

lays his head in the woman's lap that he may know, by the 
falling of her tears, when she has disobeyed his command 
not to look into the tree. This is like ' Bluebeard,' and 
rather subtle for a ballad. 
X ' Child Waters,' ' The Fair Flower of Northumberland.' 
§ The murderer has a horn in Swedish C, D, as also in 
the Dutch Halewyn and the German A, B, C, B, and the 
horn may be of magical power, but it is not distinctly de- 
scribed as such. 



A-E.* This is true again, for one reason or 
another, of others of the German ballads, of 
the French, of most of the Italian, and of the 
Hungarian ballads. 

The nearest approach to the Elf-knight, 
Halewyn, etc., is perhaps Quintalin, in the 
saga of Samson the Fair. He was son of the 
miller Galin. Nobody knew who his mother 
was, but many were of the mind that Galin 
might have had him of a " goddess," an elf 
or troll woman, who lived under the mill force. 
He was a thief, and lay in the woods ; was 
versed in many knave's tricks, and had also 
acquired agreeable arts. He was a great mas- 
ter of the harp, and would decoy women into 
the woods with his playing, keep them as 
long as he liked, and send them honae preg- 
nant to their fathers or husbands. A king's 
daughter, Valentina, is drawn on by his music 
deep into the woods, but is rescued by a 
friendly power. Some parts of her dress and 
ornaments, which she had laid off in her rapid 
following up of the harping, are afterwards 
found, with a great quantity of precious things, 
in the subaqueous .cave of Quintalin's mother, 
who is a complete counterpart to Grendel's, 
^ and was probably borrowed from Bedwulf.f 
This demi-elf Quintalin is a tame personage 
by the side of Grendel or of Halewyn. Hale- 
wyn does not devour his victims, like Grendel : 
Quintalin does not even murder his. He al- 
lures women with his music to make them serve 
his lust. We may infer that he would plun- 
der them, for he is a notorious thief. Even 
two of the oldest Danish ballads, B, C, and 
again Danish I and Swedish C, make the 

treacherous knight as lecherous as bloody, and 
80 with German J, K, L, O, P, Q, R, S, and 
Italian A, B, C, B, P. This trait is wanting 
in Danish D, where, though traces of the 
originally demonic nature of the knight re- 
main, the muckle gold of the maids already 
appears as the motive for the murders. In the 
later Danish E-H, K, L, and Swedish C, D, 
the original elf or demon has sunk to a re- 
morseless robber, generally with brothers, sis- 
ters, or underlings for accomplices. | This 
is preeminently his character in English C- 
P, in nearly all the forty Polish ballads, and 
in the two principal ballads of the German 
second class, G, H, though English D, Ger- 
man H, and Polish Q retain a trace of the 
supernatural : the first in the charm by means 
of which the knight compels the maid to quit 
her parents, the second in the bloody spring, 
and the last in the golden mountains. There 
is nothing that unequivocally marks the rob- 
ber in the other German ballads of the second 
class and in those of the third. The question 
' Weinst du um deines Vaters Gut ? ' in I-L, 
O-S, T-W, is hardly decisive, and only in W 
and Z is it expressly said that the maid had 
taken valuable things with her (as in Swed- 
ish D, Norwegian A, B, English D-P). J-L, 
O-S, give us to understand that the lady had 
lost her honor,§ but in all the rest, except the 
anomalous Z, the motive for murder is insuffi- 
cient. || ^ ^ 

The woman in these ballads is for the most ' 
part nameless, or bears a stock name to which 
no importance can be attached. Not so with 
the names of the knight. Most of these are 


* The scenery of the halting-place in the wood — the 
bloodj streams in Danish A, B, D, H, L, K, the blood-girt 
spring in German H, J, EI, L, O, P, Q — is also, to say the 
least, suggestive of something horribly uncanny. These are 
undoubtedly ancient features, though the spring, as the Dan- 
ish editor observes, has no longer any significancy in the Ger- 
man ballads, because in all of them the previous victims are 
said to have been hanged. 

t The saga in Bjcirner's Nordiska Kampadater, c. 5-7. 

X Danish E, I, L, and even A, make the knight suggest to 
the lady that she should get her gold together while he is 
saddling his horse ; but this is a commonplace found in other 
cases of elopement, and by t'tseZ/" warrants no conclusion as to 
the knight's rapacity. See ' Samson,' Grundtvig, No 6, C 
5 ; • Ribold og Guldborg,' No 82, C 13, E 14, etc. ; ' Redse- 

lille og Medelvold,' No 271, A 21, B 2(^ ; 272, Bilag 3, st. 8 ; 
270. 18, etc. 

§ So perhaps a Polish ballad in Wojcicki, i, 38, akin to 
the other John and Katie ballads. 

II It is well known that in the Middle Ages the blood of 
children or of virgins was reputed a specific for leprosy (see, 
e. g., Cassel in the Weimar Jahrbiicher, i, 408.) Some have 
thought to find in this fact an explanation of the murders 
in these ballads and in the Bluebeard stories, and, according 
to Rochhoiz, this theory has been adopted into popular tra- 
dition in the Aargau. So far as this cycle of ballads is con- 
cerned, there is as much ground for holding that the blood 
was wanted to cure leprosy as for believing that the gold was 
wanted for aurum potabile. 



peculiar, and the Northern ones, though su- 
perficially of some variety, have yet likeness 
enough to tempt one to seek for a common 
original. Grundtvig, with considerable diffi- 

V dence, suggests Oldemor as a possible ground- 
form. He conceives that the R of some of the 
Scandinavian names may be a relic of a fore- 
going Herr. The initial H would easily come 
or go. Given such a name as Hollemen (Dan- 
ish C), we might expect it to give place to 
Halewyn, which is both a family and a local 
name in Flanders, if the ballad should pass 
into the Low Countries from Denmark, a der- 
ivation that Grundtvig is far from asserting. 
So Ulinger, a local appellation, might be sub- 
stituted for the Ulver of Danish A. Grundt- 
vig, it must be borne in mind, declines to be 
responsible for the historical correctness of 
this genealogy, and would be still less willing 
to undertake an explanation of the name Ol- 

In place of Oldemor, Professor Sophus 
Bugge, in a recent article, marked by his char- 
acteristic sharp-sightedness and ingenuity, has 
proposed Hollevern, Holevern, or Olevern as 
the base-form of all the Northern names for 
the bloody knight, and he finds in this name 
a main support for the entirely novel and 
somewhat startling hypothesis that the ballad 

^ we are dealing with is a wild shoot from the 
story of Judith and Holofernes.* His argu- 
ment, given as briefly as possible, is as follows. 
That the Bible story was generally known 
in the Middle Ages no one would question. It 
was treated in a literary way by an Anglo- 
Saxon poet, who was acquainted with the 
scriptural narrative, and in a popular way by 
poets -who had no direct acquaintance with 
the original.! The source of the story in the 
ballad must in any case be a tradition many 

times removed from the biblical story ; that 
much should be changed, much dropped, and 
much added is only what would be expected. 

Beginning the comparison with ' Judith ' 
with this caution, it is first submitted that 
Holofernes can be recognized in most of the 
Scandinavian and German names of the 
knight. The v of the proposed base-form is 
preserved in Ulver, Halewyn, and probably in 
the English Elf-knight. It is easy to explain 
a v's passing over to g, as in Ulinger, Adelger, 
and especially under the influence of the very 
common names in -ger. Again, v might easily 
become b, as in Olbert, or m, as in Hollemen, 
Olmor ; and the initial R of Rulleman, Ro- 
mor, etc., may have been carried over, from a 
prefixed Herr. J 

The original name of the heroine has been 
lost, and yet it is to be noticed that Gert 01- 
bert's mother, in German A, is called Fru 

The heroine in this same ballad is named 
Helena (Linnich in F) ; in others (German 
C, D, E), Odilia. These are names of saints, 
and this circumstance may tend to show that 
the woman in the ballad was originally con- 
ceived of as rather a saint than a secular char- 
acter, though in the course of time the story 
has so changed that the devout widow who 
sought out her country's enemy in his own 
camp has been transformed into a young maid 
who is enticed from home by a treacherous 

It is an original trait in the ballad that the 
murderer, as is expressly said in many copies, 
is from a foreign land. According to an Eng- 
lish version (E), he comes from the north, as 
Holofernes does, "venit Assur ex montibus 
ab aquilone" (Jud. xvi, 5). 

The germ of this outlandish knight's blood- 

* Det philologisk-historiske Samfunds Mindeskrift i An- 
ledning af dels femogtyveaarige Virksomhed, 1854-79, Bi- 
drag til den nordiske Balladedigtnings Historie, p. 75 ff. 

t Bugge cites the Old German Judith, Mullen hoff n. 
Scherer, Denkmaler, 2d ed., No 37, p. 105, to show how the 
Bible story became modified under a popular treatment. 

t Holefern might doubtless pass into Halewyn, but there 
is not the slightest need of Holefern to account for Halewyn. 
Halewyn, besides being a well-known local and family ap- 
pellation, is found in two other Dutch ballads, one of which 

(Lootens and Feys, p. 66, No 38 ; Hoffmann, p. 46, No 11) 
has no kind of connection with the present, and is no more 
likely to have derived the name from this than this from 
that. It shall not be denied that Adelger, Hilsinger, RuUe- 
mann, Reimvord might have sprung from or have been sug- 
gested by Holofern, under the influence of familiar termina- 
tions, but it may be remarked that Hildebrand, Ravengaard, 
Valdemar, Rosmer, if they had occurred in any version, 
would have occasioned no greater diflBculty. 



thirstiness is found in the truculent part that 
Holofernes plays in the Bible, his threats and 
devastations. That the false suitor appears 
without companions is in keeping with the 
ballad style of representation ; yet we might 
find suggestions of the Assyrian's army in the 
swains, the brothers, the stable-boy, whom the 
maid falls in with on her way home. 

The splendid promises made in many of the 
ballads might have been developed from the 
passage where Holofernes, whose bed is de- 
scribed as wrought with purple, gold, and 
precious stones, says to Judith, Thou shalt be 
great in the house of Nebuchadnezzar, and 
thy name shall be named in all the earth (xi, 

In many forms of the ballad, especially the 
Dutch and the German, the maid adorns her- 
self splendidly, as Judith does : she even wears 
some sort of crown in Dutch A 16, German 
D 8, as Judith does in x, 3, xvi, 10 (mit- 

In the English D, E, P, the oldest Danish, 
A, and the Polish versions, the maid, like 
Judith, leaves her home in the night. 

The Piedmontese cast^, Italian B 1 [there 
is a castle in nearly all the Italian ballads, and 
also in Dutch B], may remind us of Holo- 
fernes' castra. 

The knight's carrying off the maid, lifting 
her on to his horse in many copies, may well 
come from a misunderstanding of elevaverunt 
in Judith x, 20 : Et cum in faciem ejus inten- 
disset, adoravit eum, prosternens se super ter- 
ram. Et elevaverunt eam servi Holofernis, 
jubente domino suo.* 

In German A Gert Olbert and Helena are 
said to ride three days and nights, and in 
Danish D the ride is for three days ; and we 
may remember that Judith killed Holofernes 
the fourth day after her arrival in his camp. 

The place in which the pair alight is, ac- 
cording to German G 20, a deep dale, .and 
this agrees with the site of Holofernes' camp 
in the valley of Bethulia. There is a spring or 
stream in many of the ballads, and also a 

• The Old German poem makes Holofernes kindle with 
desire for Judith the moment he sees her, and he bids his 
men bring her to his tent. They lift her up and bring her in. 

spring in the camp, in which Judith bathes 
(xii, 7). 

Most forms of the ballad make the knight, 
after the halt, inform the maid that she is to 
die, as many maids have before her in the 
same place ; e. g., German G 7 : 

' Der Ulinger hat eylfE Jungfrawen gehangen, 
Die zwolfft hat er gefangen.' f 

This corresponds with the passage in Judith's 
song (xvi, 6), Dixit se . . . infantes meos 
d a r e in praedam etvirgenes incaptiv- 
i t a t e m : but it is reasonable to suppose that 
the ballad follows some version of the Bible 
words that varied much from the original. 

The incident of the maid's lousing and tous- 
ing her betrayer's hair, while he lies with his 
head in her lap, may have come from Judith 
seizing Holofernes by the hair before she kills 
him, but the story of Samson and Delilah may 
have had influence here. 

According to many German versions, the 
murderer grants the maid three cries before 
she dies. She invokes Jesus, Mary, and her 
brother. Or she utters three sighs, the first to 
God the Father, the second to Jesus, the third 
to her brother. These cries or sighs seem to 
take the place of Judith's prayer, Confirma 
me, Domine Deus Israel (xiii, 7), and it may 
also be well to remember that Holofernes 
granted Judith, on her request, permission to 
go out in the night to pray. 

The Dutch, Low-German, Scandinavian, and 
other versions agree in making the woman kill 
the knight with his own sword, as in Judith. 
The Dutch and Low-German [also Danish P, 
Swedish A] have preserved an original trait 
in making the maid hew off the murderer's 
head. English and French versions dispose of 
the knight differently: the maid pushes him 
into sea or river. Perhaps, in some older 
form of the story, after the head was cut off, 
the trunk was pushed into the water : cf . Ju- 
dith xiii, 10: Abscidit caput ejus et . . . evol- 
vit corpus ejus truncum. The words appre- 
hendit comam capitis ejus (xiii, 9) have their 

t It should be observed that these words are from the 
dove's warning. 



parallel in Dutch A, 33 : " Zy nam het hoofd 
al by het haer." The Dutch ballad makes the 
maid carry the head with her. 

" Singing and ringing " she rode through 
the wood : Judith sings a song of praise to the 
Lord after her return home. 

In English C-F, May Colven comes home 
before dawn, as Judith does. The Dutch A 
says, When to her father's gate she came, she 
blew the horn like a man. Compare Judith 
xiii, 13 : Et dixit Judith a longe custodibus 
murorum, Aperite portas ! 

The Dutch text goes on to say that when 
the father heard the horn he was delighted at 
his daughter's return : and Judith v, 14, Et 
factum est, cum audissent viri vocem ejus, vo- 
caverunt presbyteros civitatis. 

The conclusion of Dutch A is that there was 
a banquet held, and the head was set on the 
table. So Judith causes Holofernes' head to 
be hung up on the city wall, and after the 
enemy have been driven off, the Jews hold a 

The Icelandic version, though elsewhere 
much mutilated, has a concluding stanza which 
certainly belongs to the ballad : 

Asa went into a holy cell, 
Never did she harm to man. 

This agrees with the view taken of the hero- 
ine of the ballad as a saint, and with the Bible 
account that Judith lived a chaste widow 
after her husband's demise. 

Danish D is unique in one point. The rob- 
ber has shown the maid a little knoll, in which 
the " much gold " of the women he has mur- 
dered lies. When she has killed him, the 
maid says, " /shall have the much gold," and 
takes as much as she can carry off. Compare 
with this Holofernes putting Judith into his 
treasury (xii, 1),* her carrying off the cono- 
poeum (xiii, 10), and her receiving from the 
people all Holofernes' gold, silver, clothes, 
jewels, and furniture, as her share of the plun- 
der of the Assyrian camp (xv, 14). It is, 

. * Simply because he had no other apartment at his dis- 
position. Shall we add, the Polish mother putting her 

perhaps, a perversion of this circumstance that 
the robber in German G, H, is refused per- 
mission to keep his costly clothes. 

English D seems also to have preserved a 
portion of the primitive story, when it makes 
the maid tell her parents in the morning all 
that has happened, whereupon they go with 
her to the sea-shore to find the robber's body. 
The foundation for this is surely the Bible 
account that Judith makes known her act to 
the elders of the city, and that the Jews go 
out in the morning and fall on the enemy's 
camp, in which Holofernes' body is lying. In 
Swedish C the robber's sisters mourn over his 
body, and in Judith xiv, 18 the Assyrians 
break out into loud cries when they learn of 
Holofernes' death. 

In all this it is simply contended that the 
story of Judith is the remote source of the 
ballad, and it is conceded that many of the 
correspondences which have been cited may 
be accidental. Neither the Latin text of Ju- 
dith nor any other written treatment of the 
story of Judith is supposed to have been 
known to the author of the ballad. The 
knowledge of its biblical origin being lost, the 
story would develop itself in its own way, ac- 
cording to the fashion of oral tradition. And 
so the pious widow into whose hands God gave 
over his enemies is converted into a fair maid 
who is enticed by a false knight into a wood, 
and who kills him in defence of her own life. 

A similar transformation can be shown else- 
where in popular poetry. The little Katie of 
certain northern ballads (see Grundtvig, No 
101) is a maid among other maids who pre- 
fers death to dishonor ; but was originally 
Saint Catherine, daughter of the king of 
Egypt, who suffered martyrdom for the faith 
under the Emperor Maxentius. All the ver- 
sions of the Halewyn ballad which we possess, 
even the purest, may be far removed from 
the primitive, both as to story and as to met- 
rical form. New features would be taken up, 
and old ones would disappear. One copy has 

daughter into the 
ables ? 

new room," in which she kept her valu- 



preserved genuine particulars, which another 
has lost, but Dutch tradition has kept the 
capital features best of all.* 

Professor Bugge's argument has been given 
with an approach to fulness out of a desire 
to do entire justice to the distinguished au- 
thor's case, though most of the correspondences 
>^ adduced by him fail to produce any effect upon 
my mind. 

The case is materially strengthened by the 
Dutch text C (' Roland '), which was not ac- 
cessible at the time Bugge's paper was writ- 
ten. The name Roland is not so close to Hol- 
ofern as Halewyn, but is still within the range 
of conceivable metamorphosis. The points of 
coincidence between Dutch C and the story of 
Judith are these : The woman, first making an 
elaborate toilet,f goes out to seek the man, 
who is spoken of as surrounded with soldiers ; 
she is challenged on the way ; finds Roland 
lying on his bed, which he proposes she shall 
share (or lose her life) ; J she cuts off his head, 
which, after her return home, she exposes from 
her window.§ 

If this was the original form of the Dutch 
ballad, and the Dutch ballad is the source from 
which all the other ballads have come, by 
processes of dropping, taking up, and trans- 
forming, then we may feel compelled to admit 
that this ballad might be a wild shoot from 
the story of Judith. Any one who bears in 
mind the strange changes which stories un- 
dergo will hesitate to pronounce this impossi- 

|l * Bugge holds that the ballad was derived by the Scandi- 
navians from the Grermans, more precisely by the Danes 
from a Low German form. This, he says, would follow from 
what he has maintained above, and he finds support for his 
view in many particular traits of Norse copies. Thus, one of 
the Norwegian names for the murderer is Alemarken. The 
first three syllables are very near to the Danish Oldemor ; 
but -ken seems to be the German diminutive sufiOix, and can 
only be explained by the ballad having come from Germany, 
t This toilet derives importance solely from the agreement 
with Judith x, 3 : for the rest it is entirely in the ballad 
style. Compare the toilets in ' Hafsfrun,' Afzelius, No 92, 
III, 148,Arwidsson,No 150, ii, 320, Wigstrom, Folkdiktning, 
No 2, p. 11, Landstad, No 55, p, 494 : ' Guldsmedens Dat- 
ter,' Grundtvig, No. 245, iv, 481 ff, Wigstrom, ib., No 18, p. 
37, Landstad, No 43, p. 437 : Torkilds Riim, Lyngbye, Fa;r- 
aiske Qvaeder, 534, 535, Afzelius, in, 202 : ' Stolts Karin,' 
Arwidsson, No 63, i, 388 : ' Liti Kerstis hevn,' Landstad, No 
67, p. 559 = ' Lord Thomas and Fair Annet ' : in many of 
which there is a gold crown. There is a man's toilet in 
Grundtvig, No 207, iv, 201. 

ble. What poor Ophelia says of us human 
creatures is even truer of ballads : " We know 
what we are, but know not what we may 

But when we consider how much would have 
to be dropped, how much to be taken up, and 
how much to be transformed, before the He- 
brew " gest " could be converted into the 
European ballad, we naturally look for a less 
difl&cult hypothesis. It is a supposition at- 
tended with less diflBculty that an indepen- 
dent European tradition existed of a half- 
human, half-demonic being, who possessed an 
irresistible power of decoying away young 
maids, and was wont to kill them after he got 
them into his hands, but who at last found 
one who was more than his match, and lost 
his own life through her craft and courage. 
A modification of this story is afforded by the 
large class of Bluebeard tales. The Quin- 
talin story seems to be another variety, with 
a substitution of lust for bloodthirst. The 
Dutch ballad may have been affected by some 
lost ballad of Holofem, and may have taken 
up some of its features, at least that of carry- 
ing home Halewyn's [Roland's] head, Avhich 
is found in no other version. || 

A a is translated by Grundtvig in Engelske 
og skotske Folkeviser, No 37, p. 230 : B b in 
the same. No 36, p. 227 : C a, b, D a, b, 
blended. No 35, p. 221. A, by Rosa Warrens, 
Schottische V. L. der Vorzeit, No 1, p. 1 : 
Gerhard, p. 15. C b, by Rosa Warrens, No 

X Bugge would naturally have seen the Assyrian scouts 
that Judith falls in with (x, 11) in Roland's father, mother, 
and brother, all of whom hail the maid as she is making 
for Roland's quarters (C 30-38) ; still more " Holofemes ja- 
cebat in lecto" (xiii, 4), in " Roland die op zijn bedde lag," 
C 39. 

§ Judith xiv, 1 : " Suspendite caput hoc super muros 
nostros." The cutting off and bringing home of the head, as ^ 
need hardly be said, is not of itself remarkable, being found 
everywhere from David to Beowulf, and from Beowulf to 
' Sir Andrew Barton.' 

II Dutch B, which, as before said, has been completely re- 
written, makes the comparison with Holofernes : 

34 ' Ik heb van't leven hem beroofd, 
in mynen schoot heb ik zyn hoofd, 
hy is als Holofernes gelooft.' 

37 Zy reed dan voort als Judith wys, 
zoo regt nae haer vaders paleis, 
daer zy wierd ingehaeld met eer en prys. 



34, p. 148 : Wolf, Halle der Volker, i, 38, ham, p. 244, by Knortz, Lied. u. Rom. Alt- 
Hausschatz, 225. C, D, etc., as in Ailing- Englands, No 4, p. 14. 

a. Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, i, 22. b. 
Motherwell's MS., p. 563. 

1 Fair lady Isabel sits in her bower sewing, 

Aye as the gowans grow gay 
There she heard an elf-knight blawing his horn. 
The first morning in May 

2 * If I had yon horn that I hear blawing, 
And yon eH-knight to sleep in my bosom.' 

3 This maiden had scarcely these words spoken, 
Till in at her window the elf-knight has luppen. 

4 ' It 's a very strange matter, fair maiden,' said 

' I canna blaw my horn but ye call on me. 

5 ' But will ye go to yon greenwood side ? 

If ye canna gang, I wiU cause you to ride.' 

6 He leapt on a horse, and she on another. 
And they rode on to the greenwood together. 

7 * Light down, light down, lady Isabel,' said he, 
' We are come to the place where ye are to 


8 ' Hae mercy, hae mercy, kind sir, on me. 
Till ance my dear father and mother I see.' 

9 ' Seven king's-daughters here hae I slain. 
And ye shall be the eight o them.' 

10 ' sit down a while, lay your head on my 

That we may hae some rest before that I die.' 

11 She stroakd him sae fast, the nearer he did 

Wi a sma charm she luUd him fast asleep. 

12 Wi his ain sword-belt sae fast as she ban him, 
Wi his ain dag-durk sae sair as she dang him. 

13 * If seven king's-daughters here ye hae slain. 
Lye ye here, a husband to them a'.' 


a. Buchan's MSS, ii, fol. 80. b. Buchan's Ballads of 
the North of Scotland, ii, 201. c. Motherwell's MS., p. 561. 
d. Harris MS., No 19. 

1 There came a bird out o a bush. 

On water for to dine. 
An sighing sair, says the king's daughter, 
' wae 's this heart o mine ! ' 

2 He 's taen a harp into his hand, 

He 's harped them all asleep, 
Except it was the king's daughter. 
Who one wink couldna get. 

3 He 's luppen on his berry-brown steed, 
• Taen 'er on behind himsell. 

Then baith rede down to that water 
That they ca Wearie's Well. 

4 * Wide in, wide in, my lady fair, 
No harm shall thee befall ; 
Oft times I 've watered my steed 
Wi the waters o Wearie's Well.' 

6 The first step that she stepped in. 
She stepped to the knee ; 
And sighend says this lady fair, 
' This water 's nae for me.' 

6 ' Wide in, wide in, my lady fair. 

No harm shall thee befall ; 
Oft times I 've watered my steed 
Wi the water o Wearie's WelL' 

7 The next step that she stepped in, 

She stepped to the middle ; 
' O,' sighend says this lady fair, 
I 've wat my gowden girdle.' 



8 * Wi^e in, wide in, my lady fair, 

No harm shall thee befall ; 
Oft times have I watered my steed 
Wi the water o Wearie's Well.* 

9 The next step that she stepped in, 

She stepped to the chin ; 
' O,' sighend says this lady fair, 
' They sud gar twa loves twin.' 

10 ' Seven king's-daughters I 've drownd there. 

In the water o Wearie's Well, 
And I '11 make you the eight o them, 
And ring the common bell.' 

11 ' Since I am standing here,' she says, 

' This dowie death to die, 

One kiss o your comely mouth 
I 'm sure wad comfort me.' 

12 He louted him oer his saddle bow. 

To kiss her cheek and chin ; 

She 's taen him in her arms twa. 

An thrown him headlong in. 

13 * Since seven king's daughters ye 've drowned 

In the water o Wearie's Well, 
I'll make you bridegroom to them a', 
An ring the bell mysell.' 

14 And aye she warsled, and aye she swam, 

And she swam to dry Ian ; 
She thanked God most cheerfully 
The dangers she oercame. 

a. Herd's MSS, i, 166. b. Herd's Ancient and Modern 
Scottish Songs, 1776, i, 93. c. Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 
67, = b "collated with a copy obtained from recitation." 

1 False Sir John a wooing came 

To a maid of beauty fair ; 
May Colven was this lady's name, 
Her father's only heir. 

2 He wood her butt, he wood her ben. 

He wood her in the ha, 
Until he got this lady's consent 
To moimt and ride awa. 

3 He went down to her father's bower. 

Where all the steeds did stand. 
And he 's taken one of the best steeds 
That was in her father's land. 

4 He 's got on and she 's got on. 

And fast as they could flee. 
Until they came to a lonesome part, 
A rock by the side of the sea. 

5 ' Loup off the steed,' says false Sir John, 

* Your bridal bed you see ; 
For I have drowned seven young ladies, 
The eight one you shall be. 

6 ' Cast off, cast off, my May Colven, 

All and your silken gown, 

For it 's oer good and oer costly 
To rot in the salt sea foam. 

7 * Cast off, cast off, my May Colven, 

All and your embroiderd shoen, 
For they 're oer good and oer costly 
To rot in the salt sea foam.' 

8 ' O turn you about, false Sir John, 

And look to the leaf of the tree. 
For it never became a gentleman 
. A naked woman to see.' 

9 He turnd himself straight round about, 

To look to the leaf of the tree ; 
So swift as May Colven was 
To throw him in the sea. 

10 ' help, O help, my May Colven, 

help, or else I '11 drown ; 
I '11 take you home to your father's bower, 
And set you down safe and sound.' 

11 * No help, no help, false Sir John, 

No help, nor pity thee ; 
Tho seven king's-daughters you have drownd, 
But the eight shall not be me.' 

12 So she went on her father's steed. 

As swift as she could flee. 
And she came home to her father's bower 
Before it was break of day. 



13 Up then and spoke the pretty parrot : 

' May Colven, where have you heen? 
What has become of false Sir John, 
That woo'd you so late the streen ? 

14 ' He woo'd you butt, he woo'd you ben, 

He woo'd you in the ha, 
Until he got your own consent 
For to mount and gang awa.' 

15 ' O hold your tongue, my pretty parrot, 

Lay not the blame upon me ; 

Your cup shall be of the flowered gold, 
Your cage of the root of the tree.* 

16 Up then spake the king himself, 

In the bed-chamber where he lay : 
' What ails the pretty parrot, 
That prattles so long or day ? ' 

17 * There came a cat to my cage door, 

It almost a worried me, 
And I was calling on May Colven 
To take the cat from me.' 

a. Sharpe's Ballad Book (1823), No 17, p. 45. b. Bu- 
chan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, ii, 45. c. Mother- 
well's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. 21, No. xxiv, one stanza. 

1 O HEABD ye of a bloody knight. 

Lived in the south coimtry ? 
For he has betrayed eight ladies fair 
And drowned them in the sea. 

2 Then next he went to May Collin, 

She was her father's heir. 
The greatest beauty in the land, 
I solemnly declare. 

3 ' I am a knight of wealth and might, 

Of townlands twenty-three; 
And you '11 be lady of them all, 
If you will go with me.' 

4 ' Excuse me, then. Sir John,' she says ; 

' To wed I am too young ; 
Without I have my parents' leave, 
With you I darena gang.' 

5 ' Your parents' leave you soon shall have. 

In that they will agree ; 
For I have made a solemn vow 
This night you'U go with me.' 

6 From below his arm he pulled a charm, 

And stuck it in her sleeve. 
And he has made her go with him. 
Without her parents' leave. 

7 Of gold and silver she has got 

With her twelve hundred pound, 

And the swiftest steed her father had 
She has taen to ride upon. 

8 So privily they went along, 

They made no stop or stay, 

Till they came to the fatal place 

That they call Bunion Bay. 

9 It being in a lonely place. 

And no house there was nigh. 
The fatal rocks were long and steep, 
And none could hear her cry. 

10 ' Light down,' he said, ' fair May Collin, 

Light down and speak with me. 
For here I 've drowned eight ladies fair, 
And the ninth one you shall be.' 

11 ' Is this your bowers and lofty towers, 

So beautiful and gay ? 
Or is it for my gold,' she said, 
' You take my life away ? * 

12 ' Strip off,' he says, ' thy jewels fine, 

So costly and so brave. 
For they are too costly and too fine 
To throw in the sea wave.' 

13 ' Take all I have my life to save, 

good Sir John, I pray ; 
Let it neer be said you killed a maid 
Upon her wedding day.' 

14 ' Strip off,' he says, ' thy Holland smock. 

That 's bordered with the lawn. 
For it 's too costly and too fine 
To rot in the sea sand.' 



15 ' O turn about, Sir John,' she said, 

' Your back about to me, 
For it never was comely for a man 
A naked woman to see.' 

16 But as he turned him round about, 

She threw him in the sea, 
Saying, ' Lie you there, you false Sir John, 
Where you thought to lay me. 

17 ' lie you there, you traitor false. 

Where you thought to lay me. 
For though you stripped me to the skin, 
Your clothes you 've got with thee.' 

18 Her jewels fine she did put on. 

So costly, rich and brave. 
And then with speed she mounts his steed, 
So well she did behave. 

19 That lady fair being void of fear. 

Her steed being swift and free. 
And she has reached her father's gate 
Before the clock struck three. 

23 ' O hold your tongue, my pretty parrot. 

And talk no more to me. 
And where you had a meal a day 
O now you shall have three.' 

24 Then up bespoke her father dear, 

From his chamber where he lay : 
' What aileth thee, my pretty Poll, 
That you chat so long or day ? ' 

25 ' The cat she came to my cage-door. 

The thief I could not see. 
And I called to fair May Collin, 
To take the cat from me.' 

26 Then first she told her father dear 

The deed that she had done, 
And next she told her mother dear 
Concerning false Sir John. 

27 ' If tliis be true, fair May Collin, 

That you have told to me, 
Before I either eat or drink 
This false Sir John I 'U see.' 

20 Then first she called the stable groom, 

He was her waiting man ; 
Soon as he heard his lady's voice 
He stood with cap in hand. 

21 ' Where have you been, fair May Collin ? 

Who owns this dapple grey ? ' 

* It is a found one,' she replied, 

' That I got on the way.' 

22 Then out bespoke the wily parrot 

Unto fair May Collin : 

* What have you done with false Sir John, 

That went with you yestreen ? ' 

28 Away they went with one consent. 

At dawning of the day. 
Until they came to Carline Sands, 
And there his body lay. 

29 His body taU, by that great fall, 

By the waves tossed to and fro. 
The diamond ring that he had on 
Was broke in pieces two. 

30 And they have taken up his corpse 

To yonder pleasant gi'een. 
And there they have buried false Sir John, 
For fear he should be seen. 


J. H. Dixon, Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the 
Peasantry of England, p. 74. 

1 An outlandish knight came from the north 
And he came a-wooing to me ; 
He told me he 'd take me unto the north lands, 
And there he would marry me. 

2 ' Come, fetch me some of your father's gold, 

And some of your mother's fee, 
And two of the best nags out of the stable, 
Where they stand thirty and three.' 

3 She fetched him some of her father's gold, 

And some of her mother's fee. 
And two of the best nags out of the stable, 
Where they stood thirty and three. 



4 She mounted her on her milk-white steed, 

He on the dapple grey ; 
They rode tUl they came unto the sea-side, 
Three hours before it was day. 

5 ' Light off, light off thy mUk-white steed. 

And deliver it unto me ; 
Six pretty maids have I drowned here, 
And thou the seventh shalt be. 

6 ' PuU off, puU off thy silken gown, 

And deliver it unto me ; 
Methinks it looks too rich and too gay 
To rot in the salt sea. 

7 * Pull off, pidl off thy silken stays. 

And deliver them unto me ; 
Methinks they are too fine and gay 
To rot in the salt sea. 

8 'Pull off, pull off thy Holland smock, 

And deliver it unto me ; 
Methinks it looks too rich and gay 
To rot in the salt sea.' 

9 'If I must pull off my Holland smock, 

Pray turn thy back unto me ; 
For it is not fitting that such a ruffian 
A naked woman should see.' 

10 He turned his back towards her 

And viewed the leaves so green ; 
She catched him round the middle so small, 
And tumbled him into the stream. 

11 He dropped high and he dropped low. 

Until he came to the side ; 

' Catch hold of my hand, my pretty maiden. 
And I will make you my bride.' 

12 ' Lie there, lie there, you false-hearted man. 

Lie there instead of me ; 
Six pretty maids have you drowned here, 
And the seventh has drowned thee.' 

13 She mounted on her milk-white steed, 

And led the dapple grey ; 
She rode till she came to her own father's hall, 
Three hours before it was day. 

14 The parrot being in the window so high. 

Hearing the lady, did say, 
' I 'm afraid that some ruffian has led you 
That you have tarried so long away.' 

15 ' Don't prittle nor prattle, my pretty parrot. 

Nor teU no tales of me ; 
V Tliy cage shall be made of the glittering gold, 
Although it is made of a tree.' 

16 The king being in the chamber so high, 

And hearing the parrot, did say, 
' What ails you, what ails you, my pretty parrot, 
That you prattle so long before day ? ' 

17 ' It 's no laughing matter,' the parrot did say, 

' That so loudly I call unto thee. 
For the cats have got into the window so high. 
And I 'm afraid they will have me.' 

18 ' Well turned, well turned, my pretty parrot, 

Well turned, well turned for me ; 
Thy cage shall be made of the glittering gold. 
And the door of the best ivory.' 

Roxbnrghe Ballads, iii, 449. 

1 ' Go fetch me some of your father's gold, 

And some of your mother's fee. 
And I '11 carry you into the north land. 
And there I 'U marry thee.' 

2 She fetchd him some of her father's gold. 

And some of her mother's fee ; 
She carried him into the stable, 

Where horses stood thirty and three. 

3 She leapd on a milk-white steed. 

And he on a dapple-grey ; 
They rode til they came to a fair river's 
Three hours before it was day. 

4 ' O light, light, you lady gay, 

light with speed, I say. 
For six knight's daughters have I drowned 
And you the seventh must be.' 



5 ' Go fetch the sickle, to crop the nettle 

That grows so near the brim, 
For fear it should tangle my golden locks, 
Or freckle my milk-white skin.' 

6 He fetchd the sickle, to crop the nettle 

That grows so near the brim. 
And with all the strength that pretty PoUy had 
She pushd the false knight in. 

7 ' Swim on, swim on, thou false knight, 

And there bewail thy doom. 
For I don't think thy cloatliing too good 
To lie in a watry tomb.' 

8 She leaped on her milk-white steed. 

She led the dapple grey ; 
She rid till she came to her father's house, 
Three hours before it was day. 

9 ' Who knocked so loudly at the ring ? ' 
The parrot he did say ; 
* where have you been, my pretty Polly, 
All this long summer's day ? * 

10 ' hold your tongue, parrot, 

Tell you no tales of me ; 
Your cage shall be made of beaten gold, 
Which is now made of a tree.' 

11 then bespoke her father dear, 

As he on his bed did lay : 
' O what is the matter, my parrot. 
That you speak before it is day ? ' 

12 ' The cat 's at my cage, master, 

And sorely frighted me, 
And I calld down my Polly 
To take the cat away.' 

A. Burden. Song xix of Forbes' s ' Cantus,' Aber- 
deen, 1682, 3d ed., has, as pointed out by 
Motherwell, Minstrelsy, p. he, nearly the same 
burden : The gowans are gay. The first morn- 
ing of May. And again, a song in the Tea 
Table Miscellany, as remarked by Buchan, 
There gowans are gay. The first morning of 
May: p. 404 of the 12th ed., Lo7idon, 1763. 

b. No doubt furnished to Motherwell by Buchan, 
as a considerable number of ballads in this 
part of his MS. seem to have been. 
3^. Then in. 8^. kind sir, said she. 
10^ That we may some rest before I die. 
11^. the near. 13^. to them ilk ane. 

1 is given by Motherwell, Minstrelsy, p. Ix, 
but apparently to improve metre and secure 
rhyme, thus : 

Lady Isabel sits in her bouir sewing, 
She heard an elf-knight his horn blowing. 

B b. Buchan" s printed copy differs from the man- 
uscript very slightly, except in spelling. 

4', 6*. Ait times hae I. 

5^. And sighing sair says. V, 9^ And sigh- 
ing says. 

142. Till she swam. 14". Then thanked. 14*. 
she 'd. 

c. Like A b, derived by Motherwell from Buchan. 

4^, 6^, 8^. wade in, wade in. 
14^. And thanked. 

Dixon, Scottish Traditional Versions of An- 
cient Ballads, p. 63, printing B from the man- 
uscript, makes one or two trivial changes. 

d is only this fragment. 

4^ Mony a time I rade wi my brown foal 
The water o Wearie's WeUs. 

' Leave aff, leave aff your gey mantle, 

It 's a' gowd but the hem ; 
Leave aff, leave [aff], it 's far owre gude 

To weet i the saut see faem.' 

5 She wade in, an he rade in, 
TiU it took her to the knee ; 
Wi sighin said that lady gay 
* Sic wadin 's no for me.' 
* * # # 

9 He rade in, and she wade in. 
Till it took her to the chin ; 
Wi sighin said that ladie gay 
' I '11 wade nae farer in.' 

10' ' Sax king's dochters I hae drowned, 
An the seventh you sail be.' 



13 ' Lie you there, you fause young man, 
Where you thought to lay me.' 

C b. The printed copy folloivs the manuscript with 
only very trifling variations : Colvin for Col- 
ven ; 13^ up then spak ; 16*, ere day ; IV, al- 
most worried. 

o. 2^'\ he 's courted. 1^. Till once he got. 
Between 2 and 3 is inserted : 

She 's gane to her father's coffers, 

"Where all his money lay. 
And she 's taken the red, and she 's left 
the white, 

And so lightly as she tripped away. 

3^ She 's gane down to her father's stahle, 
' And she 's taken the hest, and she 's left 
the warst. 

4 He rode on, and she rode on. 

They rode a long summer's day, 
Until they came to a broad river, 
An arm of a lonesome sea. 

58.* < For it 's seven king's daughters I have 
drowned here, 
And the eighth I '11 out make with 

6^'* ' Cast off, cast off your sUks so fine. 
And lay them on a stone.' 

7^'^' ' Cast off, cast off your hoUand smock, 
And lay it on this stone, 
For it 's too fine.' . . 

9*'* She 's twined her arms about his waist, 
And thrown him into 

10^'^ ' O hold a grip of me, May Colvin, 
For fear that I should ' 

" father's gates * and safely I 'U set you 

11 ' O lie you there, thou false Sir John, 
O lie you there,' said she, 
' For you lie not in a caulder bed 
Than the ana you intended for me.' 

12^. father's gates. *. At the breaking of the 

13*. yestreen. 

Between 13 and 14 is inserted : 

Up then spake the pretty parrot. 
In the bonnie cage where it lay : 

' what hae ye done with the false Sir 
That he behind you does stay?' 

15''* . * Your cage will be made of the beaten 
And the spakes of ivorie.' 

11^'"^ * It was a cat cam . . . 

I thought 't would have ' . . . 

D a. 2\ Cohn. 

b. Buchan's copy makes many slight changes 

which are not noticed here. 
1^. west countrie. 
After 1 is inserted : 

AU ladies of a gude account 

As ever yet were known ; 
This traitor was a baron knight. 

They calld him fause Sir John. 

'After 2 : 

* Thou art the darling of my heart, 

I say, fair May Colvin, 
So far excells thy beauties great 

That ever I hae seen.' 

3*^. Hae towers, towns twenty three. 
V. five hunder. V. The best an steed. 
8'. fatal end. 8*. Binyan's Bay. 
12^. rich and rare. 12*. sea ware. 
After 12: 

Then aff she 's taen her jewels fine, 
And thus she made her moan : 

' Hae mercy on a virgin young, 
I pray you, gude Sir John.' 

' Cast aff, cast aff, fair May Colvin, 

Your gown and petticoat. 
For they 're too costly and too fine 

To rot by the sea rock.' 

13*. Before her. 14*. to toss. 18^ her steed. 

23*. What hast thou made o fause. 

28'. Charlestown sands. Sharpe thinks Car- 



line Sands means Carlinseugh Sands on the 
coast of Forfarshire. 
After 30 : 

Ye ladies a', wherever you be, 
That read this mournful song, 

I pray you mind on May Colvin, 
And think on fause Sir John. 

Aff they 've taen his jewels fine, 
To keep in memory ; 

And sae I end my mournful sang 
And fatal tragedy. 

o. Motherwell's one stanza is : 

heard ye eer o a bloody knight 
That livd in the west countrie ? 

For he has stown seven ladies fair, 
And drownd them a' in the sea. 

B. 32. of the. 172. But so. 


A. a. 'Grl Brenton,' Jamieson Brown MS., fol. 34. E. Elizabeth Cochrane's song-book. No 112. 
b. ' Chil Brenton,' WilUam Tytler Brown MS., No 3. 

F. a. 'Lord Brangwill,' Motherwell's MSS, p. 219. 

B. ' Cospatrick,' Scott's Minstrelsy, 11, 117(1802). b. 'Lord Bengwill,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Ap- 

pendix, p. xvi. 

C. 'We were sisters, we were seven,' Cromek's Re- 
mains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, p. 207. G. ' Bothwell,' Herd's Ancient and Modern Scots 

Songs, p. 244. 

D. 'Lord Dingwall,' Buchan's Ballads of the North 

of Scotland, i, 204. H. Kinloch MSS, v, 335. 

Eight copies of this ballad are extant, four 
of them hitherto unpublished. A a, No 16 in 
the Jamieson-Brown MS., is one of twenty bal- 
lads written down from the recitation of Mrs 
Brown of Falkland, by her nephew, Robert 
Scott, in 1783, or shortly before. From these 
twenty thirteen were selected, and, having 
first been revised by Mrs. Brown, were sent, 
with two others, to William Tytler in the year 
just mentioned. William Tytler's MS. has 
disappeared, but a list of the ballads which it 
contained, with the first stanza of each, is given 
by Dr Anderson, in Nichols's Illustrations of 
the Literary History of the Eighteenth Cent- 
ury, vn, 176. B is the ' Cospatrick ' of the 
Border Minstrelsy, described by Scott as taken 
down from the recitation of a lady (known to 
be Miss Christian Rutherford, his mother's 
sister) " with some stanzas transferred from 

Herd's copy, and some readings adopted from 
a copy in Mrs Brown's manuscript under the 
title of Child Brenton," that is, from A b. 
C purports to be one of a considerable num- 
ber of pieces, " copied from the recital of a 
peasant- woman of Galloway, upwards of ninety 
years of age." Though overlaid with verses of 
Cunningham's making (of which forty or fifty 
may be excided in one mass) and though re- 
touched almost everywhere, both the ground- 
work of the story and some genuine lines 
remain unimpaired. The omission of most of 
the passage referred to, and the restoration of 
the stanza form, will give us, perhaps, a thing 
of shreds and patches, but still a ballad as 
near to genuine as some in Percy's Reliques 
or even Scott's Minstrelsy. D and P are 
(the former presumably, the second certainly) 
from recitation of the first quarter of this 



century. B is one of the few ballads in Eliz- 
abeth Cochrane's song-book, and probably of 
the first half of the last century. G, the ear- 
liest printed form of the ballad, appeared in 
Herd's first collection, in the year 1769. H 
was taken down from recitation by the late 
Dr Hill Burton in his youth. 

A, B, and C agree in these points : A bride, 
not being a maid, looks forward with alarm 
to her wedding night, and induces her bower- 
woman to take her place for the nonce. The 
imposture is detected by the bridegroom, 
through the agency of magical blankets, 
sheets, and pillows. A; or of blankets, bed, 
sheet, and sword, B ; or simply of the Billie 
Blin, C. (The sword is probably an edi- 
torial insertion ; and Jamieson, Illustrations 
of Northern Antiquities, p. 343, doubts, but 
without sufl&cient reason, the Billie Blin.) 
The bridegroom has recourse to his mother, 
who demands an explanation of the bride, 
and elicits a confession that she had once upon 
a time encountered a young man in a wood, 
who subjected her to violence. Before they 
parted, he gave her certain tokens, which he 
enjoined her to be very careful of, a lock 
of his hair, a string of beads, a gold ring, and 
a knife. B omits the knife, and C the beads. 
The mother goes back to her son, and asks 
what he had done with the tokens she had 
charged him never to part with. He owns 
that he had presented them to a lady, one 
whom he would now give all his possessions tp 
have for his wife. The lady of the greenwood 
is identified by the tokens. 

A, C, and D make the mother set a golden 
chair for the bride, in which none but a maid 
can sit, D [no leal maid will sit till bidden, 
C] . In D the chair is declined ; in C, taken 
without bidding ; in A the significance of the 

♦ In his note-book, p. 1 1 7, Motherwell writes, with less than 
his usual discretion : " The ballad of Bothwell, Cospatric, or 
Gil Brenton, appears to be copied from an account of the 
birth of Makbeth given by Wintown." The substance of 
this account is, that Macbeth's mother had a habit of re- 
pairing to the woods for wholesome air, and that, during one 
of her rambles, she fell in with a fair man, really the 
Devil, who passed the day with her, and got on her a son. 

"And of that dede in taknyng 
He gave his lemman thare a ryng, 

chair has been lost. E, P, G employ no kind of 
test of maidenhood, — the bride frankly avows 
that she is with child to another man ; and D, 
as well as E, P, G, omits the substitution of 
the chambermaid. The tokens in D are a 
chain, a ring, and three locks of hair ; in E, 
gloves and a ring; in P, G, green gloves, a 
ring, and three locks [plaits] of hair. Only 
the ring remains in H. 

" This ballad," says Motherwell (1827), "is 
very popular, and is known to reciters under a 
variety of names. I have heard it called Lord 
Bangwell, Bengwill, Dingwall, Brengwill, etc., 
and The Seven Sisters, or the Leaves of Liud." 
He adds : " There is an unedited ballad in 
Scotland, which is a nearer approximation to 
the Danish song, inasmuch as the substitu- 
tion of the maiden sister for the real bride 
constitutes a prominent feature of the tale." * 
(Minstrelsy, Introduction, Ixix^i and xc.) 

Scott remarks that Cospatrick f " was the 
designation of the Earl of Dunbar, in the 
days of Wallace and Bruce." Mr Macmath 
informs me that it is in use at the present 
day in the families of the Earl of Home and 
of Dunbar of Mochrum, Bart, who, among 
others, claim descent from the ancient earls of 
Dunbar and March. The story of the ballad 
might, of course, attach itself to any person 
prominent in the region where the ballad was 

Swedish. Three Swedish versions of this 
ballad were given by Afzelius: A, 'Riddar 
Olle' in 50 two-line stanzas, n, 217; B, 19 
two-line stanzas, n, 59 ; C, 19 two-line stan- 
zas, n, 56 : No 38, i, 175-182 of Bergstrom's 
edition. Besides these, there are two frag- 
ments in Cavallius and Stephens's unprinted 
collection : D, 6 stanzas ; B, 7 stanzas, the 
latter printed in Grundtvig, V, 307. f All 

And bad hyr that scho suld kepe that wele, 
And bald for hys luve that jwele." 

CronyJcil, Book VI, ch. xviii, 67-90. 

t Scott says : " Cospatrick, Comes Patricius ; " but Cos- 
(Gos-)patrick is apparently Servant of Patrick, like Gil-pat- 
rick (Kil-patrick). Mr Macmath suggests to me that Gil 
Brenton may have originally been Gil-brandon, which seems 
verj' likely. See Notes and Qaeries, 5th S., x, 443. 

t A fragment in Rancken's ' Nagra Prof af Folksang,' p. 
14 f, belongs not to 'Riddar Olle,' as there said, but to 



these were obtained from recitation in the 
present century. A comes nearest to our A, 
B. Like Scottish B, it seems to have been 
compounded from several copies. Sir Olof 
betrothed Ingalilla, and carried her home for 
the spousal, wearing a red gold crown and a 
wan cheek. Ingalilla gave birth to twin-boys. 
Olof had a maid who resembled Ingalilla com- 
pletely, and who, upon Ingalilla's entreaty, 
consented to play the part of bride on the 
morrow. Dressed in Ingalilla's clothes, blue 
kirtle, green jacket, etc., and wearing five 
gold rings and a gold crown, the maid rode 
to church, with Ingalilla at her back, and her 
beauty was admired by all as she came and 
went. But outside of the church were a good 
many musicians ; and one of these piped out, 
" God-a-mercy, Ingalilla, no maid art thou ! " 
Ingalilla threw into the piper's hand some- 
thing which made him change his tune. He 
was an old drunken fellow, and no one need 
mind what he sang. After five days of drink- 
ing, they took the bride to her chamber, not 
without force. Ingalilla bore the light before 
her, and helped put her to bed ; then lay down 
herself. Olof had over him a fur rug, which 
could talk as well as he, and it called out, 

' Hear me, Sir Olof, hear what I say ; 

Thou hast taken a strumpet, and missed a may.' 

And Olof, 

' Hear, little Inga, sweetheart,' he said ; 

* What didst thou get for thy maidenhead ? ' * 

Inga explained. Her father was a strange 
sort of man, and built her bower by the sea- 
strand, where aU the king's courtiers took 
ship. Nine had broken in, and one had robbed 
her of her honor. He had given her an em- 
broidered sark, a blue kirtle, green jacket, 
black mantle, gloves, five gold rings, a red gold 
crown, a golden harp, and a silver-mounted 
knife, which she now wishes in the youngster's 

body. The conclusion is abruptly told in two 
stanzas. Olof bids Inga not to talk so, for he 
is father of her children. He embraces her 
and gives her a queen's crown and name. B 
has the same story, omitting the incident of 
the musician. C has preserved this circum- 
stance, but has lost both the substitution of 
the waiting-woman for the bride and the mag- 
ical coverlet. D has also lost these important 
features of the original story ; E has retained 

Danish. ' Brud ikke M0,' Grundtvig, No 
274, V, 304. There are two old versions 
(more properly only one, so close is the agree- 
ment), and a third from recent tradition. This 
last, Grundtvig's C, from Jutland, 1856, seems 
to be of Swedish origin, and, like Swedish O, 
D, wants the talking coverlet, though it has 
kept the other material feature, that of the 
substitution. A is found in two manuscripts, 
one of the sixteenth and the other of the sev- 
enteenth century. B is the well-known ' In- 
gefred og Gudrune,' or ' Herr Samsings Nat- 
tergale,' Syv, iv. No 62, Danske Viser, No 
194, translated in Jamieson's Illustrations, p. 
340, and by Prior, in, 347. A later form of 
B, from recent recitation, 1868, is given in 
Kristensen's Jydske Folkeviser, i, No 53. 

The story in A runs thus : Solverlad and 
Vendelrod [Ingefred and Gudrune] were sit- 
ting together, and Vendelrod wept sorely. S0I- 
verlad asked her sister the reason, and was 
told there was cause. Would she be bride one 
night ? Vendelrod would give her Vedding 
clothes and all her outfit. But S0lverlad 
asked for bridegroom too, and Vendelrod would 
not give up her bridegroom, happen what 
might. She went to church and was married 
to Samsing. On the way from church they 
met a spaeman [B, shepherd], who warned 
Vendelrod that Samsing had some nightin- 
gales that could tell him whether he had mar- 
ried a maid or no. The sisters turned aside 

' Herr Aster och Froken Sissa,' though the burden is ' Rid- 
dar Olof.' Other verses, at p. 16, might belong to either. 
'Eiddar Ola,' E. Wigstrom's Folkdiktning, p. 37, No 18, 
belongs with the Danish ' Guldsmedens Datter,' Grundtvig, 
No 245. 
• The inquiry seems to refer to the morning gift. " Die 

Morgengabe ist ein (Jeschenk des Mannes als Zeichen der 
Liebe (in signuin amoris), fiir die Uebergabe der vollen 
Schonheit (in honore pulchritndinis) und der Jungfraulich- 
keit (pretium virginitatis)." Weinhold, Die deutschcn Frauen 
in dem Mittelalter, S. 270. 



and changed clothes, but could not change 
cheeks ! Salverlad was conducted to Sam- 
sing's house and placed on the bride bench. 
An unlucky jester called out, " Methinks this 
is not Vendelrod ! " but a gold ring adroitly 
thrown into his bosom opened his eyes still 
wider, and made him pretend he had meant 
nothing. The supposed bride is put to bed. 
Samsing invokes his nightingales : " Have I 
a maid or no ? " They reply, it is a maid 
that lies in the bed, but Vendelrod stands 
on the floor. Samsing asks Vendelrod why 
she avoided her bed, and she answers : her 
father lived on the strand ; her bower was 
broken into by a large company of men, and 
one of them robbed her of her honor. In this 
case there are no tokens for evidence. Sam- 
sing owns immediately that he and his men 
had broken into the bower, and Vendelrod's 
agony is over. 

Some of the usual tokens, gold harp, sark, 
shoes, and silver-mounted knife, are found in 
the later C. Danish D is but a single initial 

Besides Salverlad and Vendelrod, there is 
a considerable number of Danish ballads char- 
acterized by the feature that a bride is not a 
maid, and most or all of these have similari- 
ties to ' Gil Brenton.' ' Hr. Find og Vendel- 
rod,' Grundtvig, No 275, has even the talking 
blanket (sometimes misunderstood to be a 
hed-board') . In this piece there is no substi- 
tution. Vendelrod gives birth to children, 
and the news makes Find jump over the table. 
Still he puts the question mildly, who is the 
father, and recognizes that he is the man, upon 
hearing the story of the bower on the strand, 
and seeing half a gold ring which Vendelrod 
had received " for her honor." 

In ' Ingelilles Bryllup,' Grundtvig, No 276, 
Blidelild is induced to take Ingelild's place by 
the promise that she shall marry Ingelild's 
brother. Hr. Magnus asks her why she is so 
sad, and says he knows she is not a maid. 
Blidelild says, " Since you know so much, I 
will tell you more," and relates Ingelild's ad- 
venture, — how she had gone out to the river, 
and nine knights came riding by, etc. [so A ; 
in B and C we have the bower on the strand, 

as before]. Hr. Magnus avows that he was 
the ninth, who stayed when eight rode away. 
Blidelild begs that he will allow her to go 
and look for some lost rings, and uses the 
opportunity to send back Ingelild in her 

Various other Scandinavian ballads have 
more or less of the story of those which have 
been mentioned. In the Danish ' Brud i 
Vaande,' Grundtvig, No 277, a bride is taken 
with untimely pains while being " brought 
home." The question asked in several of the 
Scottish ballads, whether the saddle is uncom- 
fortable, occurs in A, B ; the bower that was 
forced by eight swains and a knight in A, C, 
D, P ; the gifts in A, B, F ; and an express 
acknowledgment of the act of violence by the 
bridegroom in A, B, D. We find all of these 
traits except the first in the corresponding 
Swedish ballad ' Herr Aster och Froken Sissa,' 
Afzelius, No 38, new ed.. No 32,^ ; the saddle 
and broken bower in Swedish D, Grundtvig, 
No 277, Bilag 1 ; only the saddle in Swedish 
P, Grundtvig, No. 277, Bilag 3, and C, Ar- 
widsson. No 132 ; the saddle and gifts in Ice- 
landic A, B, C, D, B, Grundtvig, No 277, Bilag 
5, 6, 7, 8. 

' Peder og Malfred,' Grundtvig, No 278, in 
four versions, the oldest from a manuscript of 
1630, represents Sir Peter as riding away from 
home about a month after his marriage, and 
meeting a woman who informs him that there 
is a birth in his house. He returns, and asks 
who is the father. Sir Peter satisfies himself 
that he is the man by identifying the gifts, in 
A, B, C, D ; and in A, B we have also the 
bower by the strand. 

In ' Oluf og Ellinsborg,' Grundtvig, No 
279, A, B, C, one of the queen's ladies is ha- 
bitually sad, and is pressed by her lover to ac- 
count for this. She endeavors to put him off 
with fictitious reasons, but finally nerves her- 
self to tell the truth : she was walking by her- 
self in her orchard, when five knights came 
riding by, and one was the cause of her grief. 
Oluf owns it was all his doing. A Swedish 
ballad, remarkably close to the Danish, from 
a manuscript of the date 1572 (the oldest 
Danisli version is also from a manuscript of 



the 16th century), is ' Riddar Lage och Stolts 
Elensborg,' Arwidsson, No 66. 

' Iver Hr. Jons0n,' Grundtvig, No 280, in 
five versions, the oldest of the 16th century, 
exhibits a lady as fearing the arrival of her 
lover's ship, and sending her mother to meet 
him, while she takes to her bed. Immediately 
upon her betrothed's entering her chamber, 
she abruptly discloses the cause of her trou- 
ble. Eight men had broken into her bower 
on the strand, and the ninth deprived her of 
her honor. Iver Hr. Jonson, with as little 
delay, confesses that he was the culprit, and 
makes prompt arrangements for the wedding. 

There is another series of ballads, repre- 
sented by ' Leesome Brand ' in English, and 
by ' Redselille og Medelvold ' in Danish, which 
describe a young woman, who is on the point 
of becoming a mother, as compelled to go off 
on horseback with her lover, and suffering 
from the ride. We find the question, whether 
the saddle is too narrow or the way too long, 
in the Danish ' Bolde Hr. Nilaus' L0n,' Grundt- 
vig, 270, ' Redselille og Medelvold,' Grundt- 
vig, 271 C, D, E, I, K, L, M, P, Q, V, Y, and 
the Norwegian versions. A, D, E, P, of ' S0n- 
nens Sorg,' Grundtvig, 272, Bilag 1, 4, 5, 6.* 
The gifts also occur in Grundtvig's 271 A, Z, 
and Norwegian D, Bilag 9. 

Perhaps no set of incidents is repeated so 
often in northern ballads as the forcing of the 
bower on the strand, the giving of keepsakes, 
the self-identification of the ravisher through 
these, and his full and hearty reparation. All 
or some of these traits are found in many bal- 
lads besides those belonging to the groups 
here spoken of : as ' Hildebrand og Hilde,' E, 
I, Grundtvig, No 83, and Norwegian A, III, 857 ; 
* Guldsmedens Datter,' Grundtvig, 245, and 
its Swedish counterpart at p. 481 of the pref- 
ace to the same, and in Eva Wigstrom's Folk- 
diktning, p. 37, No 18 ; ' Liden Kirstins Dans,' 
Grundtvig, 263 (translated by Prior, 112), 
and Norwegian B, C, Bilag 2, 3 ; ' Jomfruens 
Harpeslset,' Grundtvig, 265 (translated by 
Jamieson, ' Illustrations,' p. 382, Prior, 123, 
Buchanan, p. 6), and Swedish D, Bilag 2, 

* And again, " Is it the saddle, your horse, or your true- 
love ? " almost exactly as in our B, E, F, Grundtvig, 40 C, 

Swedish A, Afzelius, 81. So Landstad, 42, 
45 ; Arwidsson, 141 ; Grundtvig, 37 G ; 38 A, 
D ; Kristensen, i, No 95, n. No 28 A, C. 

A very pretty Norwegian tale has for the 
talisman a stepping-stone at the side of the 
bed : Asbjarnsen og Moe, No 29, ' Vesle Aase 
Gaasepige,' Dasent, 2d ed., p. 478. An Eng- 
lish prince had pictures taken of all the hand- 
somest princesses, to pick his bride by. When 
the chosen one arrived, Aase the goose-girl 
informed her that the stone at the bedside 
knew everything and told the prince ; so if she 
felt uneasy on any account, she must not step 
on it. The princess begged Aase to take her 
place till the prince was fast asleep, and then 
they would change. When Aase came and 
put her foot on the stone, the prince asked, 
" Who is it that is stepping into my bed ? " 
" A maid clean and pure," answered the 
stone. By and by the princess came and took 
Aase's place. When they were getting up in 
the morning, the prince asked again, " Who 
is it stepping out of my bed ? " " One that 
has had three children," said the stone. The 
prince sent his first choice away, and tried a 
second. Aase faithfully warned her, and she 
had cause for heeding the advice. When Aase 
stepped in, the stone said it was a maid clean 
and pure ; when the princess stepped out, the 
stone said it was one that had had six children. 
The prince was longer in hitting on a third 
choice. Aase took the bride's place once more, 
but this time the prince put a ring on her fin- 
ger, which was so tight that she could not get it 
off, for he saw that all was not right. In the 
morning, when he asked, " Who is stepping 
out of my bed ? " the stone answered, " One 
that has had nine children." Then the prince 
asked the stone to clear up the mystery, and 
it revealed how the princesses had put little 
Aase in their place. The prince went straight 
to Aase to see if she had the ring. She had 
tied a rag over her finger, pretending she had 
cut it ; but the prince soon had the rag off, 
recognized his ring, and Aase got the prince, 
for the good reason that so it was to be. 

The artifice of substituting waiting-woman 

E, F, Afzelius, 91, Landstad, 45, 52. So the Scottish ballad, 
• The Cruel Brother,' B 15 f. 



for bride has been thought to be derived from 
the romance of Tristan, in which Brangw9;in 
[Brengain, Brangaene] sacrifices herself for 
Isold : Scott's ' Sir Tristrein,' ii, 54 ; Gottfried 
V. Strassburg, xviii, ed. Bechstein. Grundt- 
vig truly remarks that a borrowing by the ro- 
mance from the popular ballad is as probable 
a supposition as the converse ; and that, even 
should we grant the name of the hero of the 
ballad to be a reminiscence of that of Isold's 
attendant (e. g. Brangwill of Brangwain), 
nothing follows as to the priority of the ro- 
mance in respect to this passage. A similar 
artifice is employed in the ballad of ' Torkild 
Trundeson,' Danske Viser, 200 (translated by 
Prior, 100) ; Afzelius, n, 86, from the Danish ; 
Arwidsson, 86. The resemblance is close to 
' Ingelilles Bryllup,' C, Grundtvig, 276. See 
also, further on, ' The Twa Knights.' 

The Billie Blin presents himself in at least 
four Scottish ballads : ' Gil Brenton,' C ; ' Wil- 
lie's Lady ; ' one version of ' Young Beichan ; ' 
two of ' The Knight and Shepherd's Daugh- 
ter ; ' and also in the English ballad of * King 
Arthur and the King of Cornwall,' here under 
the slightly disfigured name of Burlow Beanie.* 
In all he is a serviceable household demon ; 
of a decidedly benignant disposition in the 
first four, and, though a loathly fiend with 
seven heads in the last, very obedient and 
useful when once thoroughly subdued. He 
is clearly of the same nature as the Dutch 
belewitte and German bilwiz, characterized by 
Grimm as a friendly domestic genius, penas^ 
guote Jiolde ; and the names are actually asso- 
ciated in a passage cited by Grimm from 
Voet : " De illis quos nostrates appellant heeld- 
wit et hlinde helien^ a quibus nocturna visa 
videri atque ex iis arcana revelari putant." f 
Though the etymology of these words is not 
unencumbered with difficulty, hil seems to 

* The auld bellv-blind man in ' Earl Richard,' 44^, 45^, 
Kinloch's A. S. Ballads, p. 15, retains the bare name ; and 
Belly Blind, or Billie Blin, is the Scotch name for the game 
of Blindman's-bufF. 

t GisbertusVoe tins, De Miraculis,Disput., II, 1018. Cited 

point to a just and kindly-tempered being. 
Bilvis, in the seventh book of Saxo Grammat- 
icus, is an aged counsellor whose bent is to 
make peace, while his brother Bolvfs, a blind 
man, is a strife-breeder and mischief-maker. J 
The same opposition of Bil and Bol apparently 
occurs in the Edda, Grfmnismdl, 47^ where 
Bil-eygr and Bol-eygr (Bal-eygr) are appel- 
latives of Odin, which may signify mild-eyed 
and evil-eyed. Bolvis is found again in the 
HrQmund's saga, under the description of 
' Blind the Bad,' and ' the Carl Blind whose 
name was Bavfs.' But much of this saga is 
taken from the story of Helgi Hundingslayer ; 
and Blind the Bad in the saga is only Sae- 
mund's Blindr inn bolvfsi, — the blind man 
whose baleful wit sees through the disguise of 
Helgi, and all but betrays the rash hero to his 
enemies ; that is, Odin in his malicious mood 
(Bolverkr), who will presently be seen in the 
ballad of ' Earl Brand ' masking as Old Carl 
Hood, " aye for ill and never for good." Orig- 
inally and properly, perhaps, only the bad 
member of this mythical pair is blind ; but it 
would not be at all strange that later tradi- 
tion, which confuses and degrades so much in 
the old mythology, should transfer blindness 
to the good-natured one, and give rise to the 
anomalous Billie Blind. See Grimm, Deutsche 
Mythologie, 1879, i, 391 ff ; Uhlaud, Zur Ge- 
schichte der Dichtung u. Sage, m, 132 ff, vn, 
229 ; Schmeller, Bayerisches Worterbuch, n, 
1037 ff, ed. 1877 ; Van den Bergh, Woorden- 
boek der nederlandsche Mythologie, 12. 

It has been suggested to me that "the 
Haleigh throw " in B 6 is a corruption of the 
High Leith Row, a street in Edinburgh. I 
have not as yet been able to obtain informa- 
tion of such a street. 

D is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og 
skotske Folkeviser, No 40, p. 262. 

also by Schmeller, Bayerisches Worterbuch, from J. Piaa- 
torius's Alectryomantia, p. 3. 

X Merlin, in Layamon, v. 17130 ff (as pointed out by 
Grundtvig, i, 274), says that his mind is balewise, " mi gsest 
is bffiliwis," and that he is not disposed to gladness, mirth, 
or good words. 



a. Jamieson-Brown MS., No 16, fol. 34. b. "William Tyt- 
ler's Brown MS., No 3. From the recitation of Mrs Brown 
of Falkland, 1783, Aberdeenshire. 

1 Gil Brenton has sent oer the fame, 
He 's woo'd a wife an brought her hame. 

2 Full sevenscore o ships came her wi, 
The lady by the greenwood tree. 

3 There was twal an twal wi beer an wine, 
An twal an twal wi muskadine : 

4 An twall an twaU wi bouted flowr. 
An twall an twaU wi paramour : 

6 An twall an twall wi baken bread, 
An twall an twall wi the goud sae red. 

6 Sweet Willy was a widow's son, 
An at her stirrup-foot he did run. 

7 An she was dressd i the finest pa, 
But ay she loot the tears down fa. 

8 An she was deckd wi the fairest flowrs, 
But ay she loot the tears down pour. 

9 ' O is there water i your shee ? 

Or does the win blaw i your glee ? 

10 ' Or are you mourning i your meed 
Thai eer you left your mither gueede ? 

11 * Or are ye mourning i your tide 

That ever ye was Gil Brenton's bride ? ' 

12 ' The[re] is nae water i my shee, 
Nor does the win blaw i my glee : 

13 ' Nor am I mourning i my tide 
That eer I was Gil Brenton's bride : 

14 ' But I am mourning i my meed 
That ever I left my mither gueede. 

15 * But, bonny boy, tell to me 

What is the customs o your country.' 

16 ' The customs o 't, my dame,' he says, 
' Will ill a gentle lady please. 

17 ' Seven king's daughters has our king wedded, 
An seven king's daughters has our king bedded. 

18 ' But he 's cutted the paps frae their breast-bane, 
An sent them mourning hame again. 

19 * But whan you come to the palace yate. 
His mither a golden chair will set. 

20 ' An be you maid or be you nane, 

sit you there till the day be dane. 

21 ' An gin you 're sure that you are a maid. 
Ye may gang safely to his bed. 

22 ' But gin o that you be na sure, 
Then hire some woman o youre bowr.' 

23 whan she came to the palace yate. 
His mither a golden chair did set. 

24 An was she maid or was she nane. 
She sat in it tiU the day was dane. 

25 An she 's calld on her bowr woman. 
That waiting was her bowr within. 

26 ' Five hundred pound, maid, I 'U gi to the, 
An sleep this night wi the king for me.' 

27 Whan bells was rung, an mass was sung. 
An a' man unto bed was gone, 

28 Gil Brenton an the bonny maid 
IntiU ae chamber they were laid. 

29 ' speak to me, blankets, an speak to me, sheets. 
An speak to me, cods, that under me sleeps ; 

30 ' Is this a maid that I ha wedded ? 
Is this a maid that I ha bedded ? ' 

31 ' It 's nae a maid that you ha wedded, 
But it 's a maid that you ha bedded. 

32 ' Your lady 's in her bigly bowr. 

An for you she drees mony sharp showr.' 

33 O he has taen him thro the ha. 
And on his mither he did ca. 

34 ' I am the most unhappy man 
That ever was in christend Ian. 



35 ' I woo'd a maiden meek an mild, 

An I 've marryed a woman great wi child.' 

36 ' O stay, my son, intill this ha, 

An sport you wi your merry men a'. 

37 ' An I 'U gang to yon painted howr, 
An see how 't fares wi yon base whore.' 

38 The auld queen she was stark an Strang ; 
She gard the door flee affi the ban. 

39 The auld queen she was stark an steer ; 
She gard the door lye i the fleer. 

40 * O is your bairn to laird or loon ? 
Or is it to your father's groom ? ' 

41 ' My bairn 's na to laird or loon. 
Nor is it to my father's groom. 

42 ' But hear me, mither, on my knee, 
An my hard wierd I '11 teU to thee. 

43 ' O we were sisters, sisters seven. 
We was the fairest under heaven. 

53 ' An be I maid or be I nane, 

He kept me there tiU the day was dane. 

54 ' An be I maid or be I nae. 

He kept me there till the close of day. 

55 * He gae me a lock of yallow hair, 
An bade me keep it for ever mair. 

56 ' He gae me a carket o gude black beads, 
An bade me keep them against my needs. 

57 ' He gae to me a gay gold ring, 

An bade me ke[e]p it aboon a' thing. 

58 * He gae to me a little pen-kniffe, 
An bade me keep it as my life.' 

59 ' What did you wi these tokens rare 
That ye got frae that young man there ? ' 

60 ' O bring that coffer hear to me, 
And a' the tokens ye sal see.' 

61 An ay she ranked, an ay she flang. 
Till a' the tokens came till her han. 

44 'We had nae mair for our seven years wark 
But to shape an sue the king's son a sark. 

45 ' it fell on a Saturday's afternoon. 
Whan a' our langsome wark was dane, 

46 ' We keist the cavils us amang, 

To see which shoud to the greenwood gang. 

47 ' Ohone, alas ! for I was youngest, 
An ay my wierd it was the hardest. 

48 ' The cavil it did on me fa, 
Which was the cause of a' my wae. 

49 ' For to the greenwood I must gae. 
To pu the nut but an the slae ; 

60 ' To pu the red rose an the thyme. 
To strew my mother's bowr and mine. 

51 ' I had na pu'd a flowr but ane. 

Till by there came a jelly hind greeme, 

52 ' Wi high-colld hose an laigh-colld shoone, 
An he 'peard to be some kingis son. 

62 ' O stay here, daughter, your bowr within, 
Tfll I gae parley wi my son.' 

63 she has taen her thro the ha, 
An on her son began to ca. 

64 ' What did you wi that gay gold ring 
I bade you keep aboon a' thing ? 

65 ' What did you wi that little pen-kniffe 
I bade you keep while you had life ? 

66 ' What did you wi that yallow hair 
I bade you keep for ever mair ? 

67 ' What did you wi that good black heeds 
I bade you keep against your needs ? ' 

68 ' I gae them to a lady gay 

I met i the greenwood on a day. 

69 ' An I would gi a' my father's Ian, 
I had that lady my yates within. 

70 ' I would gi a' my ha's an towrs, 

I had that bright burd i my bowrs.' 



71 * O son, keep still your father's Ian ; 
You hae that lady your yates within. 

72 ' An keep you still your ha's an towrs ; 
You hae that bright burd i your bowrs.' 

73 Now or a month was come an gone, 
This lady bare a bonny young son. 

74 An it was well written on his breast-bane 
' Gil Brenton is my father's name.' 


Scott's Minstrelsy, ii, 117, ed. 1802. Ed. 1830, in, 263. 
Partly from the recitation of Miss Christian Rutherford. 

1 CosPATBiCK has sent oer the faem, 
Cospatrick brought his ladye hame. 

2 And fourscore ships have come her wi, 
The ladye by the grenewood tree. 

3 There were twal and twal wi baken bread, 
And twal and twal wi gowd sae reid : 

4 And twal and twal wi bouted flour, 
And twal and twal wi the paramour. 

5 Sweet WiUy was a widow's son, 

And at her stirrup he did run. • 

6 And she was clad in the finest paU, 
But aye she let the tears down fall. 

7 ' is your saddle set awrye ? 

Or rides your steed for you owre high ? 

8 ' Or are you mourning in your tide 
That you suld be Cospatrick's bride ? ' 

9 ' I am not mourning at this tide 
That I suld be Cospatrick's bride ; 

10 ' But I am sorrowing in my mood 
That I suld leave my mother good. 

11 ' But, gentle boy, come tell to me. 
What is the custom of thy countrye ? ' 

12 ' The custom thereof, my dame,' he says, 
' Will ill a gentle laydye please. 

13 * Seven king's daughters has our lord wedded. 
And seven king's daughters has our lord 

bedded ; 

14 ' But he 's cutted their breasts f rae their breast 

And sent them moitrning hame again. 

15 ' Yet, gin you 're sure that you 're a maid, 
Ye may gae safely to his bed ; 

16 ' But gif o that ye be na sure, 
Then hire some damseU o your hour.' 

17 The ladye 's calld her bour-maiden, 
That waiting was into her train ; 

18 ' Five thousand merks I will gie thee. 
To sleep this night with my lord for me.' 

19 When bells were rung, and mass was sayne, 
And a' men unto bed were gane, 

20 Cospatrick and the bonny maid. 
Into ae chamber they were laid. 

21 ' Now, speak to me, blankets, and speak to me, 

And speak, thou sheet, inchanted web ; 

22 ' And speak up, my bonny brown sword, that 

winna lie, 
Is this a true maiden that lies by me ? ' 

23 ' It is not a maid that you hae wedded, 
But it is a maid that you hae bedded. 

24 ' It is a liel maiden that lies by thee, 
But not the maiden that it should be.' 

25 wrathfully he left the bed. 
And wrathfully his claiths on did. 

26 And he has taen him thro the ha. 
And on his mother he did ca. 



27 ' I am the most unhappy man 
That ever was in christen land ! 

28 ' I courted a maiden meik and mild, 

And I hae gotten naething but a woman wi 

29 ' O stay, my son, into this ha. 

And sport ye wi your merrymen a' ; 

30 ' And I will to the secret hour, 

To see how it fares wi your paramour.' 

31 The carline she was stark and sture ; 
She aff the hinges dang the dure. 

32 ' is your bairn to laird or loun ? 
Or is it to your father's groom ? ' 

33 ' hear me, mother, on my knee. 
Till my sad story I teU to thee. 

34 ' O we were sisters, sisters seven. 
We were the fairest under heaven. 

35 ' It fell on a summer's afternoon, 
When a' our toilsome task was done, 

36 * We cast the kavUs us amang, 

To see which suld to the grene-wood gang. 

37 ' hon, alas ! for I was youngest, 
And aye my wierd it was the hardest. 

38 ' The kavil it on me did fa, 
Whilk was the cause of a' my woe. 

39 ' For to the grene-wood I maun gae, 
To pu the red rose and the slae ; 

40 * To pu the red rose and the thyme. 
To deck my mother's hour and mine. 

41 ' I hadna pu'd a flower but ane. 
When by there came a gallant hende, 

42 ' Wi high-colld hose and laigh-coUd shoon, 
And he seemd to be sum king's son. 

43 ' And be I maid or be I nae. 

He kept me there till the close o day. 

44 ' And be I maid or be I nane. 

He kept me there till the day was done. 

45 ' He gae me a lock o his yellow hair, 
And bade me keep it ever mair. 

46 ' He gae me a carknet o bonny beads, 
And bade me keep it against my needs. 

47 ' He gae to me a gay gold ring, 
And bade me keep it abune a' thing.' 

48 * What did ye wi the tokens rare 
That ye gat frae that gallant there ? ' 

49 ' bring that coffer unto me, 
And a' the tokens ye sail see.' 

50 ' Now stay, daughter, your hour within, 
WhUe I gae parley wi my son.' 

51 she has taen her thro the ha. 
And on her son began to ca. 

52 ' What did you wi the bonny beads 
I bade ye keep against your needs ? 

53 ' What did you wi the gay gowd ring 
T bade ye keep abune a' thing ? ' 

64 ' I gae them a' to a ladye gay 
I met in grene-wood on a day. 

55 ' But I wad gie a' my halls and tours, 
I had that ladye within my hours. 

56 ' But I wad gie my very life, 
I had that ladye to my wife.' 

57 ' Now keep, my son, your ha's and tours ; 
Ye have that bright burd in your hours. 

58 ' And keep, my son, your very life ; 
Ye have that ladye to your wife.' 

59 Now or a month was cum and gane, 
The ladye bore a bonny son. 

60 And 't was weel written on his breast-bane, 
' Cospatrick is my father's name.' 

61 ' rowe my ladye in satin and silk. 
And wash my son in the morning milk.' 




Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, p. 
207. " From the recital of a peasant-woman of Galloway, 
upwards of ninety years of age." 

1 We were sisters, we were seven, 
We were the fairest under heaven. 

2 And it was a' our seven years wark 
To sew our father's seven sarks. 

3 And whan our seven years wark was done, 
We laid it out upo the green. 

4 We coost the lotties us amang, 
Wha wad to the greenwood gang, 

5 To pu the Uly but and the rose, 
To strew witha' our sisters' bowers. 

6 I was youngest, 

my weer was hardest. 

7 And to the greenwood I bud gae, 

8 There I met a handsome chUde, 

9 High-coled stockings and laigh-coled shoon. 
He bore him like a king's son. 

10 An was I weel, or was I wae. 
He keepit me a' the simmer day. 

11 An though I for my hame-gaun sich[t], 
He keepit me a' the simmer night. 

12 He gae to me a gay gold ring, 
And bade me keep it aboon a' thing. 

13 He gae to me a cuttie knife. 
And bade me keep it as my life : 

14 Three lauchters o his yellow hair. 
For fear we wad neer meet mair. 

* * * * 

15 Next there came shippes three. 
To carry a' my bridal fee. 

16 Gowd were the beaks, the sails were silk, 
Wrought wi maids' hands like milk. 

17 They came toom and light to me. 
But heavie went theywaie frae me. 

18 They were fu o baken bread. 
They were fu of wine sae red. 

19 My dowry went a' by the sea. 
But I gaed by the grenewode tree. 

20 An I sighed and made great mane, 

As thro the grenewode we rade our lane. 

21 An I ay siched an wiped my ee, 
That eer the grenewode I did see. 

22 ' Is there water in your glove. 

Or win into your shoe ? 
0[r] am I oer low a foot-page 
To rin by you, ladie ? ' 

23 ' O there 's nae water in my glove, 

Nor win into my shoe ; 
But I am maning for my mither 
Wha 's far awa frae me.' 

24 ' Gin ye be a maiden fair, 
Meikle gude ye will get there. 

25 ' If ye be a maiden but, 
Meikle sorrow will ye get. 

26 ' For seven king's daughters he hath wedded, 
But never wi ane o them has bedded. 

27 ' He cuts the breasts frae their breast-bane, 
An sends them back unto their dame. 

28 * He sets their backs unto the saddle, 
An sends them back unto their father. 

29 ' But be ye maiden or be ye nane. 

To the gowden chair ye draw right soon. 

30 ' But be ye leman or be ye maiden, 
Sit nae down tUl ye be bidden.' 

31 Was she maiden or was she nane, 

To the gowden chair she drew right soon. 

32 Was she leman or was she maiden. 
She sat down ere she was bidden. 



33 Out then spake the lord's mother ; 
Says, ' This is not a maiden fair. 

34 ' In that chair nae leal maiden 
Eer sits down tiU they be bidden.' 

35 The Billie Blin then outspake he, 
As he stood by the fair ladie. 

36 ' The bonnie may is tired wi riding, 
Gaurd her sit down ere she was bidden.' 


37 But on her waiting-maid she ca'd : 

' Fair ladie, what 's your wiU wi me ? ' 
' ye maun gie yere maidenheid 
This night to an unco lord for me.' 

38 ' I hae been east, I hae been west, 

I hae been far beyond the sea. 
But ay, by grenewode or by bower, 
I hae keepit my virginitie. 

39 ' But wiU it for my ladie plead, 

I '11 gie 't this night to an unco lord.' 

40 W}ien bells were rang an vespers sung, 
An men in sleep were locked soun, 

41 Childe Branton and the waiting-rfaid 
Into the bridal bed were laid. 

42 ' O lie thee down, my fair ladie, 
Here are a' things meet for thee ; 

43 ' Here 's a bolster for yere head. 
Here is sheets an comelie weids.' 

* * * * 

44 ' Now tell to me, ye Billie Blin, 

If this fair dame be a leal maiden.' 

45 ' I wat she is as leal a wight 

As the moon shines on in a simmer night. 

46 ' I wat she is as leal a may 

As the sun shines on in a simmer day. 

47 ' But your bonnie bride 's in her bower, 
Dreeing the mither's trying hour.' 

48 Then out o his bridal bed he sprang, 
An into his mither's bower he ran. 


49 ' mither kind, mither dear, 
This is nae a maiden fair. 

50 ' The maiden I took to my bride 
Has a bairn atween her sides. 

51 * The maiden I took to my bower 
Is dreeing the mither's trying hour.' 

52 Then to the chamber his mother flew. 
And to the wa the door she threw. 

53 She stapt at neither bolt nor ban. 
Till to that ladle's bed she wan. 

54 Says, ' Ladie fair, sae meek an mild, 
Wha is the father o yere child ? ' 

55 ' mither dear,' said that ladie, 
' I canna tell gif I sud die. 

56 ' We were sisters, we were seven. 
We were the fairest under heaven. 

57 ' And it was a' our seven years wark 
To sew our father's seven sarks. 

58 ' And whan our seven years wark was done. 
We laid it out upon the green. 

59 ' We coost the lotties us amang, 
Wha wad to the greenwode gang ; 

60 ' To pu the lily but an the rose, 

To strew witha' our sisters' bowers. 

61 'I was youngest, 

my weer was hardest. 

62 ' And to the greenwode I bu[d] gae. 

63 ' There I met a handsome cliilde, 

64 ' Wi laigh-coled stockings and high-coled shoon. 
He seemed to be some king's son. 

65 ' And was I weel or was I wae, 
He keepit me a' the simmer day. 

66 ' Though for my hame-gaun I oft sicht, 
He keepit me a' the simmer night. 



67 • He gae to me a gay gold ring, 
An bade me keep it aboon a' thing ; 

68 ' Three lauchters o his yellow hair, 
For fear that we suld neer meet mair. 

69 ' O mither, if ye '11 believe nae me. 
Break up the coffer, an there ye '11 see.' 

70 An ay she coost, an ay she flang. 

Tin her ain gowd ring came in her hand. 

71 And scarce aught i the coffer she left. 
Till she gat the knife wi the siller heft, 

72 Three lauchters o his yellow hair, 
Knotted wi ribbons dink and rare. 

73 She cried to her son, ' Where is the ring 
Your father gave me at our wooing, 

An I gae you at your hunting ? • 

74 ' What did ye wi the cuttie knife, 
I bade ye keep it as yere life ? ' 

75 ' O baud yere tongue, my mither dear ; 
I gae them to a lady fair. 

76 ' I wad gie a' my lands and rents, 
I had that ladie within my brents. 

77 ' I wad gie a' my lands an towers, 
I had that ladie within my bowers.' 


78 ' Keep still yere lands, keep still yere rents ; 
Ye hae that ladie within yere brents. 

79 ' Keep still yere lands, keep still yere towers ; 
Ye hae that lady within your bowers.' 

80 Then to his ladie fast ran he. 
An low he kneeled on his knee. 

81 '0 tank ye up my son,' said he, 
' An, mither, tent my fair ladie. 

82 ' O wash him purely i the milk, 
And lay him saftly in the silk. 

83 ' An ye maun bed her very soft, 
For I maun kiss her wondrous oft.' 

84 It was weel written on his breast-bane 
Childe Branton was the father's name. 

85 It was weel written on his right hand 
He was the heir o his daddie's land. 

Buchan's Ancient Ballads and Songs of the North of Scot- 
land, I, 204. 

1 We were sisters, sisters seven, 

Bowing down, bowing down 

The fairest women under heaven. 

And aye the birks arbowing 

2 They kiest kevels them amang, 
Wha woud to the grenewood gang. 

3 The kevels they gied thro the ha. 
And on the youngest it did fa. 

4 Now she must to the grenewood gang. 
To pu the nuts in grenewood hang. 

5 She hadna tan*ied an hour but ane ^ 
Till she met wi a highlan groom. 

6 He keeped her sae late and lang 

Till the evening set and birds they sang. 

7 He gae to her at their parting 

A chain o gold and gay gold ring ; 

8 And three locks o his yellow hair ; 
Bade her keep them for evennair. 

9 When six lang months were come and gane. 
A courtier to this lady came. 

10 Lord Dingwall courted this lady gay, 
And so he set their wedding-day. 

11 A little boy to the ha was sent. 
To bring her hoi*se was his intent. 

12 As she was riding the way along, 
She began to make a heavy moan. 



13 ' What ails you, lady,' the boy said, 
' That ye seem sae dissatisfied ? 

14 ' Are the bridle reins for you too strong ? 
Or the stirrups for you too long ? ' 

15 ' But, little boy, wiU ye tell me 

The fashions that are in your countrie ? ' 

16 ' The fashions in our ha I '11 tell. 
And o them a' I 'U warn you well. 

17 ' When ye come in upon the floor. 

His mither will meet you wi a golden chair. 

18 * But be ye maid or be ye nane. 
Unto the high seat make ye boun. 

19 ' Lord Dingwall aft has been beguild 
By girls whom young men hae defiled. 

20 * He 's cutted the paps frae their breast-bane, 
And sent them back to their ain hame.' 

31 ' I wonder wha 's tauld that gay ladie 
The fashion into our countrie.' 

32 ' It is your little boy I blame. 
Whom ye did send to bring her hame.' 

33 Then to the lady she did go, 
And said, ' O Lady, let me know 

34 ' Who has defiled your fair bodie : 
Ye 're the first that has beguiled me.' 

35 ' O we were sisters, sisters seven, 
The fairest women under heaven. 

36 ' And we kiest kevels us amang, 
Wha woud to the grenewood gang ; 

37 ' For to pu the finest flowers. 

To put around our sixmmer bowers. 

38 ' I was the youngest o them a' ; 
The hardest fortune did me befa. 

21 When she came in upon the floor. 
His mother met her wi a golden chair. 

22 But to the high seat she made her boun : 
She knew that maiden she was nane. 

23 When night was come, they went to bed. 
And ower her breast his arm he laid. 

24 He quickly jumped upon the floor. 
And said, ' I 've got a vile rank whore.' 

25 Unto his mother he made his moan. 

Says, ' Mother dear, I am undone. 


26 ' Ye 've aft tald, when I brought them hame. 
Whether they were maid or nane. 

27 ' I thought I 'd gotten a maiden bright ; 
I 've gotten but a waefu wight. 

28 ' I thought I 'd gotten a maiden clear, 
But gotten but a vile rank whore.' 

29 ' When she came in upon the floor, 
I met her wi a golden chair. 

30 ' But to the high seat she made her boun. 
Because a maiden she was nane.' 

39 ' Unto the grenewood I did gang. 
And pu'd the nuts as they down hang. 

40 ' I hadna stayd an hour but ane 
Till I met wi a highla^ groom. 

41 ' He keeped me sae late and lang 

Till the evening set and birds they sang. 

42 ' He gae to me at our parting 

A chain of gold and gay gold ring ; 

43 ' And three locks o his yellow hair ; 
Bade me keep them for evermair. 

44 ' Then for to show I make nae lie, 
Look ye my trunk, and ye will see.' 

45 Unto the trunk then she did go, 
To see if that were true or no. 

46 And aye she sought, and aye she flang. 
Till these four things came to her hand. 

47 Then she did to her ain son go, 

And said, ' My son, ye 'U let me know, 

48 ' Ye wiU tell to me this thing : 
What did you wi my wedding-ring ? ' 



49 * Mother dear, I '11 tell nae lie : 
I gave it to a gay ladie. 

60 ' I would gie a' my ha's and towers, 
I had this bird within my bowers.' 

51 * Keep well, keep well your lands and strands ; 
Ye hae that bird within your hands. 

62 ' Now, my son, to your bower ye '11 go : 
Comfort your ladie, she 's full o woe.' 

53 Now when nine months were come and gane, 
The lady she brought hame a son. 

54 It was written on his breast-bane 
Lord Dingwall was his father's name. 

55 He 's taen his young son in his arms, 
And aye he praisd his lovely charms. 

56 And he has gien him kisses three. 
And doubled them ower to his ladie. 


Elizabeth Cochrane's Song-Book, p. 146, No 112. 

1 Lord Benwall he 's a hunting gone ; 

Hey down, etc. 
He 's taken with him all his merry men. 
Hey, etc. 

2 As he was walking late alone, 

He spyed a lady both brisk and young. 

3 He keeped her so long and long, 

From the evening ]fi,te till the morning came. 

4 All that he gave her at their parting 
Was a pair of gloves and a gay gold ring. 

5 Lord Benwall he 's a wooing gone. 

And he 's taken with him aU his merry men. 

6 As he was walking the Haleigh throw, 
He spy'd seven ladyes all in a row. 

7 He cast a lot among them all ; 
Upon the youngest the lot did fall. 

8 He wedded her and brought her home. 
And by the way she made great moan. 

9 ' "What aileth my dearest and dayly flower ? 
What ails my dear, to make such moan ? 

10 ' Does the steed carry you too high ? 
Or does thy pillow sit awry ? 

11 * Or does the wind blow in thy glove ? 
Or is thy heart after another love ? ' 

12 ' The steed does not carry me too high, 
Nor does my pillow sit awry. 

13 ' Nor does the wind blow in my glove, 
Nor is my heart after another love.' 

14 When they were doun to supper set, 
The weary pain took her by the back. 

15 ' What aUs my dearest and dayly flower ? 
What ails my dearest, to make such moan ? ' 

16 ' I am with child, and it 's not to thee. 
And oh and alas, what shall I doe ! ' 

17 'I thought I had got a maid so mUd ; , 
But I have got a woman big with child. 

18 ' I thought I had got a dayly flower ; 
I have gotten but a common whore.' 

* * # # * 

19 ' Rise up. Lord Benwall, go to your hall, 
And cherrish up your merry men all.' 

20 ' As I was walking once late alone, 

I spy'd a lord, both brisk and young. 

21 ' He keeped me so long and long. 

From the evening late till the morning came. 

22 ' All that he gave me at our parting 
Was a pair of gloves and a gay gold ring. 

23 ' If you will not believe what I tell to thee, 
There 's the key of my coffer, you may go and 




24 His mother went, and threw and flang, 
Till to her hand the ring it came. 

25 ' Lord Benwall, wilt thou tell to me 
Where is the ring I gave to thee ? ' 

26 ' Now I would give aU my lands and tower, 
To have that lady in my bower. 

27 ' I would give all my lands and rents, 
To have that lady in my tents.' 

28 ' You need not give all your lands and tower, 
For you have that lady in your power. 

29 ' You need not give all your lands and rents, 
For you have that lady in your tents.' 

30 Now it was written on the child's breast-bone 
Lord Benwall's sirname and his name. 

31 It was written on the child's right hand 

That he should be heir of Lord Benwall's land. 

32 ' Canst cloath my lady in the silk, 
And feed my young son with the milk.' 

a. Motherwell's MS., p. 219. From the recitation of Mrs 
Thomson, February, 1825. b. Motherwell's Minstrelay, Ap- 
pendix, p. xvi, the first stanza only. 

1 There were three sisters in a bouir, 

Eh down and Oh down 
And the youngest o them was the fairest flour. 
Eh down and O down 

2 And we began our seven years wark. 
To sew our brither John a sark. 

3 When seven years was come and gane. 
There was nae a sleeve in it but ane. 

4 But we coost kevils us amang 
Wha wud to the green-wood gang. 

5 But tho we had coosten neer sae lang, 
The lot it fell on me aye to gang. 

6 I was the youngest, and I was the fairest. 
And alace ! my wierd it was aye the sairest. 

11 But he keepit me there sae lang, sae lang. 
Till the maids in the morning were singing 

their sang. 

12 Would I wee or would I way. 

He keepit me the lang simmer day. 

13 Would I way or would I wight. 
He keepit me the simmer night. 

14 But guess what was at our parting ? 

A pair o grass green gloves and a gay gold 

15 He gave me three plaits o his yeUow hair, 
In token that we might meet mair. 

16 But when nine months were come and gane, 
This gallant lord cam back again. 

17 He 's wed this lady, and taen her wi him ; 
But as they were riding the leas o Lyne, 

18 This lady was not able to ride, 

Till I had to the woods to gae. 

8 To puU the cherrie and the slae. 

And to seek our ae brither, we had nae mae. 

9 But as I was walking the leas o Lyne, 
I met a youth gallant and fine ; 

10 Wi milk white stockings and coal black shoon ; 
He seemed to be some gay lord's son. 

19 ' O does thy saddle set thee aside ? 

Or does thy steed ony wrang way ride ? 

20 ' Or thinkst thou me too low a groom ? 

21 ' Or hast thou musing in thy mind 
For the leaving of thy mother kind ? ' 



22 ' My saddle it sets not me aside, • 
Nor does my steed ony wrang way ride. 

23 ' Nor think I thee too low a groom 

24 ' But I hae musing in my mind 
For the leaving of my mother kind.' 

25 ' I '11 bring thee to a mother of mine, 
As good a mother as eer was thine.' 

26 ' A better mother she may be, 

But an unco woman she '11 prove to me.' 

27 But when lords and ladies at supper sat, 
Her pains they struck her in the back. 

28 When lords and ladies were laid in bed. 
Her pains they struck her in the side. 

29 ' Rise up, rise up, now. Lord BrangwiU, 
For I 'm wi child and you do not know 't.' 

30 He took up his foot and gave her sic a bang 
Till owre the bed the red blood sprang. 

31 He is up to his mother's ha, 
Calling her as hard as he could ca. 

39 ' With milk-white stockings and coal-black 

shoon ; 
He seemd to be sum gay lord's son. 

40 ' He keepit me sae lang, sae lang, 

Till the maids in the morning were singing 
their sang. 

41 ' Would I wee or would I way, 
He keepit me the lang simmer day. 

42 ' Would I way (k would I wight. 
He keepit me the simmer night. 

43 ' But guess ye what was at our parting ? 

A pair of grass green gloves and a gay gold 

44 ' He gave me three plaits o his yellow hair, 
In token that we might meet mair.' 

45 ' dochter dear, will ye show me 
These tokens that he gave to thee ? ' 

46 ' Altho my back should break in three, 
Unto my coffer I must be.' 

47 ' Thy back it shall not break in three, * 
For I '11 bring thy coffer to thy knee.' 

32. ' I went through moss and I went through 48 Aye she coost, and aye she flang, 

Thinking to get some lily flouir. 

33 . . . 

' But to my house I have brocht a hure. 

34 ' I thocht to have got a lady baith meek and 

But I 've got a woman that 's big wi child.' 

35 ' rest you here, Lord BrangwiU,' she said, 
' Till I relieve your lady that lyes so low.' 

36 ' daughter dear, will you tell to me 
Who is the father of your babie ? ' 

37 ' Yes, mother dear, I will tell thee 
Who is the father of my babie. 

38 ' As I was walking the leas o Lyne, 
I met a youth gallant and fine ; 

Till these three tokens came to her hand. 

49 Then she is up to her son's ha. 
Calling him hard as she could ca. 

50 ' O son, O son, will you tell me 

51 ' What ye did wi the gi'ass green gloves and 

gay gold ring 
That ye gat at your own birth-een ? ' 

52 ' I gave them to as pretty a may 
As^ever I saw in a simmer day. 

53 ' I wiid rather than a' my lands sae broad 
That I had her as sure as eer I had. 

54 ' I would rather than a' my lands sae free 
I had her here this night wi me.' 



65 ' I wish you good o your lands sae broad, 
For ye have her as sure as eer ye had. 

66 ' I wish ye good o your lands sae free, 
For ye have her here this night wi thee.' 

57 ' Gar wash my auld son in the milk, 
Gar deck my lady's bed wi silk.' 

58 He gave his auld son kisses three, 

But he doubled them a' to his gay ladye. 


Herd's Ancient and Modem Scots Songs, 1769, p. 244 ; ed. 
1776, I, 83. 

1 As BothweU was walking in the lowlands alane, 

Hey down and a down 
He met six ladies sae gallant and fine. 
Hey down and a down 

2 He cast his lot amang them a'. 
And on the youngest his lot did fa. 

3 He 's brought her frae her mother's bower, 
Unto his strongest castle and tower. 

4 But ay she cried and made great moan. 
And ay the tear came trickling down. 

6 * Come up, come up,' said the foremost man, 
' I think our bride comes slowly on.' . 

6 ' lady, sits your saddle awry. 

Or is your steed for you owre high ? ' 

7 ' My saddle is not set awry. 

Nor carries me my steed owre high ; 

8 * But I am weary of my life. 

Since I maun be Lord BothweU's wife.' 

9 He 's blawn his horn sae sharp and shrill, 
Up start the deer on evry hilk 

10 He 's blawn his horn sae lang and loud. 
Up start the deer in gude green-wood. 

11 His lady mother lookit owre the castle wa. 
And she saw them riding ane and a'. 

12 She 's calld upon her maids by seven. 
To mak his bed baith saft and even. 

13 She 's calld upon her cooks by nine, 
To make their dinner fair and fine. 

14 When day was gane, and night was come, 
' What ails my love on me to frown ? 

15 ' Or does the wind blow in your glove ? 
Or runs your mind on another love ? ' 

16 ' Nor blows the wind within my glove. 
Nor runs my mind on another love ; 

17 ' But I nor maid nor maiden am, 
For I 'm wi bairn to another man.' 

18 ' I thought I 'd a maiden sae meek and sae 

But I 've nought but a woman wi child.' 

19 His mother 's taen her up to a tower. 
And lockit her in her secret bower. 

20 ' Now, doughter mine, come teU to me, 
Wha's bairn this is that you are wi.' 

21 ' mother dear, I canna learn 
Wha is the faither of my bairn. 

22 ' But as I walkd in the lowlands my lane, 
I met a gentleman gallant and fine. 

23 ' He keepit me there sae late and sae lang, 
Frae the evning late tiU the morning dawn. 

24 ' And a' that he gied me to my propine 

Was a pair of green gloves and a gay gold 

25 ' Three lauchters of his yellow hair, 
In case that we shoud meet nae mair.' 

26 His lady mother went down the stair : 

27 ' Now son, now son, come tell to me. 

Where 's the green gloves I gave to thee ? ' 



28 * I gied to a lady sae fair and so fine 
The green gloves and a gay gold ring. 

29 ' But I wad gie my castles and towers, 
I had that lady within my bowers. 

30 ' But I wad gie my very life, 

I had that lady to be my wife.' 

31 ' Now keep, now keep your castles and towei-s, 
You have that lady within your bowers. 

32 ^ Now keep, now keep your very life, 
You have that lady to be your wife.' 

33 ' row my lady in sattin and silk. 
And wash my son Li the morning milk.' 

Kinloch MSS, v, 335, in the handwriting of Dr John Hill 

1 We were seven sisters in a bower, 

Adown adown, and adown and adown 
The flower of a' fair Scotland ower. 
Adown adown, and adown and adown 

2 We were sisters, sisters s§ven. 
The fairest women under heaven. 

3 There fell a dispute us amang, 
Wha would to the greenwood gang. 

4 They kiest the kevels them amang, 
O wha woidd to the greenwood gang. 

5 The kevels they gied thro the ha. 
And on the youngest it did fa. 

6 The kevel fell into her hand, 

To greenwood she was forced to gang. 

7 She hedna pued a flower but ane, 
When by there came an earl's son. 

8 ' And was he well or was he wae. 
He keepet me that summer's day.' 

9 And was he weel or was he weight. 
He keepet her that summer's night. 

10 And he gave her a gay goud ring 
His mother got at her wedding. 

* * # * 
•11 ' Oh is yer stirrup set too high ? 

Or is your saddle set awry ? 

12 ' Oh is yer stirrup set too side ? 

Or what 's the reason ye canna ride ? ' 

# * * * 

13 When all were at the table set. 
Then not a bit could this lady eat. 

14 When all made merry at the feast. 
This lady wished she were at her rest. 


A. a. In the MS. two lines are written contin- 
uously, and two of these double lines numbered 
as one stanza. 

19S 23S 69^, 11% perhaps gate, gates in MS. 
54S MS. be a nae. 56.^ casket in MS. ? 
b. 1. 

Chil Brenton has sent oer the faem, 
Chil Brenton 's brought his lady hame. 

B. Printed by Scott in four-line stanzas. 

7, 55, 56, 58, 61, seem to be the stanzas trans- 
ferred from Herd, but only the last without 

The stanzas are not divided in Cromek. Be- 
tween 14 and 15 the following nineteen 
couplets have been omitted. 

First blew the sweet, the simmer wind, 
Then autumn wi her breath sae kind, 
Before that eer the guid knight came 
The tokens of his luve to claim. 
Then fell the brown an yellow leaf 
Afore the knight o luve shawed prief ; 
Three morns the winter's rime did fa. 
When loud at our yett my luve did ca. 
' Ye hae daughters, ye hae seven, 
Ye hae the fairest under heaven. 



I am the lord o lands wide, 
Ane o them maun be my bride. 
I am lord of a baronie, 
Ane o them maun lie wi me. 

cherry lips are sweet to pree, 
A rosie cheek 's meet for the ee ; 
Lang brown locks a heart can bind, 
Bonny black een in luve are kind ; 
Sma white arms for clasping 's meet, 
Whan laid atween the bridal-sheets ; 
A kindlie heart is best of a'. 

An debonnairest in the ha. 
Ane by ane thae things are sweet, 
Ane by ane in luve they 're meet ; 
But when they a' in ae maid bide, 
She is fittest for a bride. 
Sae be it weel or be it wae. 
The youngest maun be my ladie ; 
Sae be it gude, sae be it meet. 
She maun warm my bridal-sheet. 

Little kend he, whan aff he rode, 

1 was his tokend luve in the wood ; 

Or when he gied me the wedding-token. 

He was sealing the vows he thought were broken. 

First came a page on a milk-white steed, 

Wi golden, trappings on his head : 

A' gowden was the saddle lap. 

And gowden was the page's cap. 

15-21 liave been allowed to stand principally 
on account of 18. 

There is small risk in pronouncing 24, 25, 42, 
43, 80, 81 spurious, and Cunningham sur- 
passes his usual mawkishness in 83. 
E is written in four-line stanzas. 

19. mother, in the margin. 

20. lady, in the murgin. 

F. a. V. MS. Till [StiU?]. 

V and 8, 17 arid 18S 20^ and 21, 23^ and 24, 
32 and 33^, 50^ and 51, are respectively 
written as a stanza in the MS*. 

12^, 41^. Motherwell conjectures 

Would I wait, or would I away. 
13^, 42^. Motherwell conjectures 
Would I away, or would I wait. 

14^, 43^. MS. green sleeves : but see 51^ and 

also E 22S G 24^, 28^. 
29^, above you do not know 't is written know 

not who till, apparently a conjecture of Moth- 

30^^, sometimes recited 

Till owre the bed this lady he flang. 

53\ Jf/S. abroad. 

b. 1. Seven ladies livd in a bower. 
Hey down and ho down 
And aye the yoimgest was the flower. 
Hey down and ho down 

G. The stanzas are not divided in Herd. 

H. 4 is crossed through in the MS., but no reason 


a. ' Willie's Lady,' Fraser-Tytler MS. 

b. ' Sweet Willy,' Jamieson-Brown MS., No 16, fol. 

a, ' Willie's Lady,' was No 1 in the manu- 
script of fifteen ballads furnished William Tyt- 
ler by Mrs Brown in 1783, and having been 
written down a little later than b may be re- 
garded as a revised copy. This manuscript, 
as remarked under No 5, is not now in the 

possession of the Fraser-Tytler family, having ^» 
often been most liberally lent, and, probably, OL 
at last not returned. But a transcript had 
been made by the grandfather of the present 
family of two of the pieces contained in it, 
and ' Willie's Lady ' is one of these two. 



. Le-ms had access to William Tytler's copy, 
and, having regulated the rhymes, filled out 
a gap, dropped the passage about the girdle, 
and made other changes to his taste, printed 
the ballad in 1801 as No 56 of his Tales of 
"Wonder. The next year Scott gave the " an- 
cient copy, never before published," " in its 
native simplicity, as taken from Mrs Brown of 
Faulkland's MS.," — William Tytler's,— in 
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, n, 27, but 
not with literal accuracy. Jamieson, in 1806, 
gave ' Sweet Willy,' almost exactly according 
to the text of his Brown manuscript, in an 
appendix to the second volume of his collec- 
tion, p. 367, and at p. 175 of the same volume, 
a reconstruction of the ballad which might 
have been spared. 

b lacks altogether the passage which makes 
proffer of the cup, a, stanzas 5-11, and substi- 
tutes at that place the girdle of a 21-28. The 
woodbine in a 36, 41, is also wanting, and the 
concluding stanza. A deficiency both in mat- 
ter and rhyme at a 32 is supplied by b 25, 
26, but not happily : 

' An do you to your mitlier then, 

An bid her come to your boy's christnen ; 

' For dear 's the boy he 's been to you : 
Then notice well what she shall do.' 

Again, the transition in a, from st. 33 to 
St. 34, is abrupt even for a ballad, and b in- 
troduces here four st?.nza8 narrating the ex- 
ecution of the Billy Blind's injunctions, and 

And notic'd well what she did say, 

whereby we are prepared for the witch's ex- 

Danish versions of this ballad are numerous ; 
A-I, ' Hustru og Mands Moder ' [' Fostermoder,' 
'Stifmoder'], Grundtvig, No 84, n, 404 ff: 
J-T, ' Hustru og Mands Moder,' Kristensen, 
n, 111 ff, No 35 : U-X, ' Barselkvinden,' Kris- 

tensen, I, 201 ff, No 74 : Y, ' Hustru og Sleg- 
fred,' Grundtvig, No 85, ii, 448 ff : in all 
twenty-five, but many of Kristensen's copies 
are fragments. Grundtvig's 84 A, B, and 85 a 
are from manuscripts of the sixteenth century. 
84 F-I and several repetitions of 85 are of the 
seventeenth. Grundtvig's 84 C, D, E, and all 
Kristensen's versions, are from recent oral tra- 
dition. Some of these, though taken down 
since 1870, are wonderfully well preserved. 

The Danish ballads divide into two classes, 
principally distinguished by their employing 
or not employing of the artifice of wax chil- 
dren. (There is but one of these in N, R, 
Kristensen's B, I, ii, 116, 122, and in the oldest 
Swedish ballad, as in the Scottish : but chil- 
dren in Scandinavian ballads are mostly born 
in pairs.) Of the former class, to which our 
only known copy belongs, are F-I, N-T, X 
(Grundtvig, 84 F-I, Kristensen, II, No 35, B- 
L, I, No 74 D). N and I furnish, perhaps, the 
most consistent story, which, in the former, 
runs thus : Sir Peter married Ellen (else- 
where Mettelille, Kirstin, Tidelil, Ingerlil), 
and gave her in charge to his Another, a for- 
midable witch, and, as appears from F, vio- 
lently opposed to the match. The first night 
of her marriage Ellen conceived twins. She 
wrapped up her head in her cloak and paid a 
visit to her mother-in-law, to ask how long 
women go with child. The answer was, 

' Forty weeks went Mary with Christ, 
And so each Danish woman must. 

' Forty weeks I went with mine, 

But eight years shalt thou go with thine.' 

The forty weeks had passed, and Ellen be- 
gan to long for relief. Sir Peter besought aid 
of his sister Ingerlin. If I help your young 
bride, she said, I must be traitor to my mother. 
Sir Peter insisted, and Ingerlin moiilded a fine 
child of wax,t wrapped it in linen, and exhib- 
ited it to her mother, who, supposing that her 

* The 'Jamieson-Brown copy contains seventy-eight 
verses ; Scott's and the Tytler copy, eighty-eight. Dr An- 
derson's, Nichols's Illustrations, vn, 176, counts seventy-six 
instead of eighty-eight ; but, judging by the description which 
Anderson has given of the Alexander-Fraser-Tytler-Brown 

MS., at p. 179, he is not exact. Still, so large a discrepancy 
is hard to explain. 

t The sister does this in F-I and S : in O, P, the husband 
" has " it done. 



arts had been baffled, burst out into exclama- 
tions of astonishment. She had thought she 
could twist a rope out of flying sand, lay sun 
and moon flat on the earth with a single word, 
turn the whole world round about ! She had 
thought all the house was spell-bound, except 
the spot where the young wife's chest stood, 
the chest of red rowan, which nothing can be- 
witch ! The chest was instantly taken away, 
and Ellen's bed moved to the place it had 
occupied ; and no sooner was this done than 
Ellen gave birth to two children. 

In the ballads of the other class, the young 
wife, grown desperate after eight years of suf- 
fering, asks to be taken back to her maiden 
home. Her husband's mother raises objec- 
tions : the horses are in the meadow, the 
coachman is in bed. Then, she says, I will go 
on my bare feet. The moment her husband 
learns her wish, the carriage is at the door, but 
by the arts of the mother it goes to pieces on 
the way, and the journey has to be finished on 
horseback. The joy of her parents at seeing 
their daughter approaching was quenched on 
a nearer view : she looked more dead than 
quick. She called her family about her and 
distributed her effects. A great wail went up 
in the house when two sons were cut from the 
mother's side. (C, J, K, L, W : Grundtvig, 
84 C ; Kristensen, n, No 35 A, B, C ; i. No 
74 C.) 

The first son stood up and brushed his hair : 
' Most surely am I in my ninth year.* 

The second stood up both fair and red : 

* Most sure we '11 avenge our dear mother dead.' * 

Several of the most important ballads of 
the first class have taken up a part of the story 
of those of the second class, to the detriment 
of consistency. P, G, H, O, P (Grundtvig, 84 
F, G, H, Kristensen, ii, No 35 F, G), make 
the wife quit her husband's house for her fa- 
ther's, not only without reason, but against 
reason. If the woman is to die, it is natural 
enough that she should wish to die with the 
friends of her early days, and away from her 

* Grundtvig, 84 D, B; Kristensen, i, No 74 A, B, C ; 
II, No 35 A, B, C. 

uncongenial mother-in-law; but there is no 
kind of occasion for transferring the scene of 
the trick with the wax children to her father's 
house ; and, on the other hand, it is altogether 
strange that her husband's mother and the 
rowan-tree chest (which sometimes appears 
to be the property of the mother, sometimes 
that of the wife) should go with her. 

Y, ' Hustru og Slegfred,' Grundtvig, 85, 
agrees with the second class up to the point 
when the wife is put to bed at her mother's 
house, but with the important variation that 
the spell is the work of a former mistress -of 
the husband ; instead of his mother, as in most 
of the ballads, or of the wife's foster-mother, 
as in C, D, J, K, M (Grundtvig, 84 C, D, Kris- 
tensen, II, No 35 A, B, D), or of the wife's 
step-mother as in A only. The conclusion of 
' Hustru og Slegfred ' is rather flat. The 
wife, as she lies in bed, bids all her household 
hold up their hands and pray for her relief, 
which occurs on the same day. The news is 
sent to her husband, who rejoins his wife, is 
shown his children, praises God, and burns his 
mistress. Burning is also the fate of the 
mother-in-law in B, I, O, P, whereas in F she 
dies of chagrin, and in G bursts into a hun- 
dred flinders (flentsteene). 

This ballad, in the mixed form of O, P 
(Kristensen, n, 35 F, G), has been resolved 
into a tale in Denmark, a few lines of verse 
being retained. Recourse is had by the spell- 
bound wife to a cunning woman in the vil- 
lage, who informs her that in her house there 
is a place in which a rowan-tree chest has 
stood, and that she can get relief there. The 
cunning woman subsequently pointing out the 
exact spot, two boys are born, who are seven 
years old, and can both walk and talk. Word 
is sent the witch that her son's wife has been 
delivered of two sons, and that she herself 
shall Tdo burned the day following. The witch 
says, " I have been able to twine a string out 
of running water. If I have not succeeded 
in bewitching the woman, she must have found 
the place where the damned rowan chest 
stood." (Grundtvig, m, 858, No 84 b.) 

Three Swedish versions of the ballad have 
been printed. A, B, from tradition of this 



century, are given by Arwidsson, n, 252 ff, 
' Liten Kerstins Fortrollning,' No 134. These 
resemble the Danish ballads of the second 
class closely. Liten Kerstin goes to her moth- 
er's house, gives birth to two children, and 
dies. In A the children are a son and daughter. 
The son stands up, combs his hair, and says, 
" I am forty weeks on in my ninth year." 
He can run errands in the village, and the 
daughter sew red silk. In B both children 
are boys. One combs his hair, and says, " Our 
grandmother shall be put on two wheels." 
The other draws his sword, and says, " Our 
mother is dead, our grandmother to blame. 
I hope our mother is with God. Our grand- 
mother shall be laid on seven wheels." The 
other copy, C, mentioned by Grundtvig as 
being in Cavallius and Stephens' manuscript 
collection, has been printed in the Svenska 
Fornminnesforeningens Tidskrift, vol. ii, p. 
72 ff, 1873-74. It dates from the close of the 
sixteenth century, and resembles the mixed 
ballads of the Danish first class, combining 
the flitting to the father's house with the ar- 
tifice of the wax children. The conclusion of 
this ballad has suffered greatly. After the 
two sons are born, we are told that Kirstin, 
before unmentioned, goes to the chest and 
makes a wax child. If the chest were moved, 
Elin would be free of her child. And then the 
boy stands up and brushes his hair, and says 
he has come to his eighth year. 

Three stanzas and some of the incidents of 
a Norwegian version of this ballad have been 
communicated to Grundtvig, m, 858 f, No 
84 c, by Professor Sophus Bugge. The only 
place which was unaffected by a spell was 
where Signellti's bride-chest stood, and the 
chest being removed, the birth took place. 
The witch was a step-mother, as in Danish A. 

There are two familiar cases of malicious 
arrest of childbirth in classic mythology, — 
those of Latona and Alcmene. The wrath of 
Juno was the cause in both, and perhaps the 
myth of Alcmene is only a repetition of an 
older story, with change of name. The pangs 

* Eadem amatoris sui nxorem, quod in earn dicacule pro- 
bmm dixerat, jam in sarcina prsegnationis, obsaepto utero 
et rq)igrato fetn, perpetaa praegnatione daninavit,_et, ut 

of Latona were prolonged through nine days 
and nights, at the end of which time Ilithyia 
came to her relief, induced by a bribe. (Hymn 
to the Delian Apollo, 91 ff.) Homer, II. xix, 
119, says only that Hera stopped the delivery 
of Alcmene and kept back Ilithyia. Anto- 
ninus Liberalis, in the second century of our 
era, in one of his abstracts from the Meta- 
morphoses of Nicander, a poem of the second 
century B. c, or earlier, has this account: 
that when Alcmene was going with Hercules, 
the Fates and Ilithyia, to please Juno, kept 
her in her pains by sitting down and folding 
their hands ; and that Galinthias, a playmate 
and companion of Alcmene, fearing that the 
suffering would drive her mad, ran out and 
announced the birth of a boy, upon which the 
Fates were seized with such consternation that 
they let go their hands, and Hercules imme- 
diately came into the world. (Antoninus Lib., 
Metam. c. xxix.) Ovid, Metamorphoses, ix, 
281-315, is more circumstantial. After seven 
days and nights of torture, Lucina came, but, 
being bribed by Juno, instead of giving the aid 
for which she was invoked, sat down on the al- 
tar before Alcmene's door, with the right knee 
crossed over the left, and fingers interlocked, 
mumbling charms which checked the processes 
of birth. Galanthis, a servant girl media de 
plebe, was shrewd enough to suspect that Juno 
had some part in this mischief ; and besides, as 
she went in and out of the house, she always 
saw Lucina sitting on the altar, with h««- hands 
clasped over her knees. At last, by a happy 
thought, she called out, " Whoever you are, 
wish my mistress joy ; she is lighter, and has 
her wish." Lucina jumped up and unclasped 
her hands, and the birth followed instantly. 
Pausanias, ix, 11, tells a similar but briefer 
story, in whicb Historis, daughter of Tiresias, 
takes the place of Galanthis. See, for the 
whole matter, ' Ilithyia oder die Hexe,' in 
C. A. Bottiger's Kleine Schriften, i, 76 ff. 

Apuleius, in his Metamorphoses, mentions 
a case of suspended childbirth, which, curiously 
enough, had lasted eight years,* as in the Dan- 

concti numerant, jam octo annorum onere misella ilia velut 
elepbantum paritara distenditur. i, 9. 



ish and Swedish ballads. The witch is a mis- 
tress of her victim's husband, as in Grundtvig, 
85, and as in a story cited by Scott from Hey- 
wood's ' Hierarchy of the Blessed Angels,' p. 
474. " There is a curious tale about a Count of 
Westeravia [Vestravia, in diocesi Argentora- 
tensi], whom a deserted concubine bewitched 
upon his marriage, so as to preclude all hopes 
of his becoming a father. The spell continued 
to operate for three years, till one day, the 
count happening to meet with his former mis- 
tress, she maliciously asked him about the in- 
crease of his family. The count, conceiving 
some suspicion from her manner, craftily an- 
swered that God had blessed him vdth three 
fine children ; on which she exclaimed, like 
Willie's mother in the ballad, ' May Heaven 
confound the old hag by whose counsel I 
threw an enchanted pitcher into the draw-well 
of your palace ! ' The spell being found and 
destroyed, the count became the father of a 
numerous family." 

A story like that of the ballad is told as a 
fact that took place in Arran within this cent- 
ury. A young man forsook his sweetheart 
and married another girl. When the wife's 
time came, she suffered excessively. A pack- 
man who was passing suspected the cause, 
went straight to the old love, and told her 
that a fine child was born ; when up she 
sprang, and pulled out a large nail from the 
beam of the roof, calling out to her mother, 
" Muckle good your craft has done ! " The 
wife was forthwith delivered. (Napier, in 
The Folklore Record, ii, 117.) 

In the Sicilian tales, collected by Laura 
Gonzenbach, Nos 12 and 15, we have the spell 
of folded hands placed between the knees to 
prevent birth, and in No 54 hands raised to 
the head.* In all these examples the spell is 
finally broken by telling the witch a piece of 
false news, which causes her to forget herself 

* We may suppose with closed fingers, or clasping the 
head, though this is not said. Antique vases depict one or 
two Ilithyias as standing by with hands elevated and open, 

and take away her hands. (Sicilianische Mar- 
chen aus dem Volksmund gesammelt, Leip- 
zig, 1870.) 

We find in a Roumanian tale, contributed 
to Das Ausland for 1857, p. 1029, by F. Obert, 
and epitomized by Grundtvig, iii, 859, No 
84 d, a wife condemned by her offended hus- 
band to go with child till he lays his hand 
upon her. It is twenty years before she ob- 
tains grace, and the son whom she then bears 
immediately slays his father. A Wallachian 
form of this story (Walachische Miirchen von 
Arthur u. Albert Schott, No 23) omits the re- 
venge by the new-born child, and ends hap- 

With respect to the knots in st. 34, it is to 
be observed that the tying of knots (as also 
the fastening of locks), either during the mar- 
riage ceremony or at the approach of partu- 
rition was, and is still, believed to be effectual 
for preventing conception or childbirth. The 
minister of Logierait, Perthshire, testifies, 
about the year 1793, that immediately be- 
fore the celebration of a marriage it is the 
custom to loosen carefully every knot about 
bride and bridegroom, — garters, shoe-strings, 
etc. The knots are tied again before they 
leave the church. (Statistical Account of Scot- 
land, V, 83.) So among the Laps and Nor- 
wegians, when a child is to be born, all the 
knots in the woman's clothes, or even all the 
knots in the house, must be untied, because 
of their impeding delivery. (Liebrecht, Zur 
Volkskunde, p. 322, who also cites the Statis- 
tical Account of Scotland.) 

Willie's Lady is translated by Schubart, p. 
74, Talvj, p. 555, and by Gerhard, p. 139. 
Grundtvig, 84 H (= Syv, 90, Danske Viser, 
43), is translated by Jamieson, Illustrations of 
Northern Antiquities, p. 344, and by Prior, 
No 89: 

during the birth of Athene from the head of Zeus. Welcker, 
Kleine Schriften, iii, 191, note 12. 



a. A copy, by Miss Mary Fraser Tytler, of a transcript 
made by her grandfather from William Tytler's manuscript. 
b. Jamieson-Brown MS., No 15, fol.33. 

1 Willie has taen him oer the fame, 

He 's woo'd a wife and brought her hame. 

2 He 's woo'd her for her yellow hair, 
But his mother wrought her mickle care. 

3 And mickle dolour gard her dree, 
For lighter she can never be. 

4 But in her bower she sits wi pain, 

• And Willie mourns oer her in vain. 

5 And to his mother he has gone, 
That vile rank witch of vilest kind. 

6 He says : ' My ladie has a cup, 
Wi gowd and silver set about. 

7 ' This goodlie gift shall be your ain. 
And let her be lighter o her yoimg bairn.' 

8 ' Of her yoimg bairn she '11 neer be lighter, 
Nor in her bower to shine the brighter. 

9 ' But she shall die and turn to clay, 
And you shall wed another may.' 

10 * Another may I 'U never wed. 
Another may I 'U neer bring home.' 

11 But sighing says that weary wight, 
' I wish my life were at an end.' 

12 ' Ye doe [ye] unto your mother again, 
That vile rank witch of vilest kind. 

13 ' And say your ladie has a steed. 

The like o 'm 's no in the lands of Leed. 

14 ' For he [ijs golden shod before, 
And he [i]s golden shod behind. 

15 * And at ilka tet of that horse's main, 
There 's a golden chess and a bell ringing. 

16 * This goodlie gift shall be your ain. 

And let me be lighter of my young bairn.' 

17 ' O her young bairn she '11 neer be lighter. 
Nor in her bower to shine the brighter. 

18 * But she shall die and turn to clay, 
And ye shall wed another may.' 

19 ' Another may I ['11] never wed. 
Another may I ['11] neer bring hame.' 

20 But sighing said that weary wight, 
' I wish my life were at an end.' 

21 ' Ye doe [ye] unto your mother again, 
That vile rank witch of vilest kind. 

22 ' And say your ladie has a girdle. 
It 's red gowd unto the middle. 

23 ' And ay at every silver hem. 
Hangs fifty silver bells and ten. 

24 ' That goodlie gift has be her ain. 

And let me be lighter of my young bairn.' 

25 ' her young bairn she 's neer be lighter, 
Nor in her bower to shine the brighter. 

26 ' But she shall die and turn to clay. 
And you shall wed another may.' 

27 ' Another may I 'U never wed. 
Another may I 'U neer bring hame.* 

28 But sighing says that weary wight, 
' I wish my life were at an end.' 

29 Then out and spake the Belly Blind ; 
He spake aye in good time. 

30 ' Ye doe ye to the market place. 
And there ye buy a loaf o wax. 

31 ' Ye shape it bairn and bairnly like. 
And in twa glassen een ye pit ; 

32 ' And bid her come to your boy's christening ; 
Then notice weel what she shall do. 

33 * And do you stand a little fore bye, 
And listen weel what she shall say.' 



34 ' Oh wha has loosed the nine witch knots 
That was amo that ladie's locks ? 

35 ' And wha has taen out the kaims of care 
That hangs amo that ladie's hair ? 

36 ' And wha 's taen down the hush o woodbine 
That hang atween her bower and mine ? 

37 ' And wha has kUld the master kid 
That ran beneath that ladie's bed ? 

38 ' And wha has loosed her left-foot shee, 
And lotten that ladie lighter be ? ' 

39 O Willie has loosed the nine witch knots 
That was amo that ladie's locks. 

40 And Willie 's taen out the kaims o care 
That hang amo that ladie's hair. 

41 And Willie 's taen down the bush o woodbine 
That hang atween her bower and thine. 

42 And WiUie has kiUed the master kid 
That ran beneath that ladie's bed. 

43 And Willie has loosed her left-foot shee, 
And letten his ladie lighter be. 

44 And now he 's gotten a bonny young son, 
And mickle grace be him upon. 


a. The stanzas are not regularly divided in the 

MS., nor were they so divided hy Scott. 
41^. hung (?) beneath : hut see 36^. 
Scott's principal variations are r 
12^ Yet gae ye. 
14\ For he is silver shod. 

15. At every tuft of that horse main 

There 's a golden chess and a bell to ring. 

21^. Yet gae ye. ^. o rankest kind. 
22^. It 's a' red gowd to. 

This gudely gift saU be. 

For she. 

my days. 

Yet gae ye. ^ there do buy. 
31^ Do shape. ' ^. you '11 put. 
32^. And bid her your boy's christening to. 
33^. a little away. ^. To notice weel what she 

may saye. 
35^. That were amang. 

And let. 

Syne WiQie. 

That were into. 
41S A2\ 43^ And he. 

41^. Hung atween her hour and the witch car- 
44^. a bonny son. 

b. Divided in Jamieson's MS. into stanzas of four 

verses, two verses being written in one line : 
but Jamieson's 8 = a 14-16. 
1^. Sweet Willy 's taen. 


5-11, wanting. Instead of the cup, the girdle 

occurs here : = a 21-28. 
121. He (ji^i Ynm tiU. ^. wilest kin. 
13^ An said, My lady. 
U\^ he is. 

16^. An lat her be lighter o her young bairn. 
18^. go to clay, 
a 21-^ = b 5^. Now to his mither he has gane. 

2. kin. 
a 22^ = b 6^. He say[s] my lady. ^ It 's a' 

a 231 = b 7^ at ilka. I Hings. 
a 241 = b 8^. gift sail be your ain. ^. lat her 

. . . o her. 
a 29 = b 22. Then out it spake the belly blin ; 

She spake ay in a good time, 
a 32 = b 25, 26. 

An do you to your mither then. An bid her 
come to your boy's christnen ; 

For dear 's the boy he 's been to you : Then no- 
tice well what she shall do. 

Between a 33 and a 34 occurs in b (28-31) : 

He did him" to the market place, An there he 

bought a loaf o wax. 
He shap'd it bairn and bairnly like. An in't twa 

glazen een he pat. 
He did him tiU his mither then. An bade him 

(sic) to his boy's christnen. 
An he did stan a little forebye, An notic'd well 

what she did say. 



a 35' = b 33^ hang amo. 

36. wanting in b. 

37^ aneath. 

39' = b 36'. hang amo his. 

40^. kemb o care. '. his lady's. 

41. wanting in b. 

42' = b 38'. ran aneath his. 

44. wanting in b. 

b 22' makes the BiUy Blind feminine. This 
is not so in a, or in any other ballad, and 
m,ay be only an error of the transcriber, who 
has not always written carefuUy. 


A. a. b. ' Earl Bran,' Mr Robert White's papers. C. * Lord Douglas,' Motherwell's MS., p. 502. ■ 
c. ' The Brave Earl Brand and the King of England's , 

Daughter,' Bell, Ancient Poems, etc., p. 122. d. D. 'Lady Margaret,' Kinloch MSS, i, 327. 
Fragmentary verses remembered by Mr R. White's 

sister. E. ' The Douglas Tragedy,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, 

p. 180. 

B. ' The Douglas Tragedy,' Scott's Minstrelsy, in, 246, 

ed. 1803. F. 'The Child of Ell,' Percy MS., p. 57; Hales and 

Furnivall, i, 133. 

' Earl Brand,' first given to tlie world by 
Mr Robert Bell in 1857, has preserved most 
of the incidents of a very ancient story with a 
faithfulness unequalled by any ballad that has 
been recovered frofri English oral tradition. 
Before the publication of ' Earl Brand,' A o, 
our known inheritance in this particular was 
limited to the beautiful but very imperfect 
fragment called by Scott ' The Douglas Trag- 
edy,' B ; half a dozen stanzas of another ver- 
sion of the same in Motherwell's Minstrelsy, 
E ; 80 much of Percy's ' Child of Elle ' as was 
genuine, which, upon the printing of his man- 
uscript, turned out to be one fifth, F ; and 
two versions of Erlinton, A, C* What 
now can be added is but little : two tran- 
scripts of 'Earl Brand,' one of which, A a, 
has suffered less from literary revision than 
the only copy hithertb printed, A c ; a third 
version of ' The Douglas Tragedy,' from Moth- 
erwell's manuscript, C ; a fourth from Kin- 
loch's manuscripts, D ; and another of ' Er- 

* 'Erlinton,' though not existing in a two-line stanza, 
follows immediatelj after ' Earl Brand.' The copy of ' The 
Douglas Tragedy' in Smith's Scottish Minstrel, iii, 86, is 
merely Scott's, with changes to facilitate singing. 

linton,' B. Even ' Earl Brand ' has lost a 
circumstance that forms the turning-point in 
Scandinavian ballads, and this capital defect 
attends all our other versions, though traces 
which remain in ' Erlinton ' make it nearly 
certain that our ballads originally agreed in 
all important particulars with those which are 
to this day recited in the north of Europe. 

The corresponding Scandinavian ballad 
is 'Ribold and Guldborg,' and it is a jewel 
that any clime might envy. Up to the time 
of Grundtvig's edition, in Danmarks gamle 
Folkeviser, No 82, though four versions had 
been printed, the only current copy for a hun- 
dred and fifty years had been Syv's No 88, 
based on a broadside of the date 1648, but 
compounded from several sources ; and it was 
in this form that the ballad became known 
to the English through Jamieson's translation. 
Grundtvig has now published twenty-seven 
versions of ' Ribold og Guldborg ' (n, 347 ff, 
nineteen ; 675 ff, four ; m, 849 ff, four : f 

t B*, III, 853, a fragment of five stanzas, has been 
dropped by Grundtvig from No 82, and assigned to No 249. 
See D. g. F. iv, 494. 



of all which only two are fragments), and nine 
of ' Hildebrand og Hilde,' No 83, which is 
the same story set in a dramatic frame-work 
(n, 393 ff, seven ; 680 f, one ; ill, 857, one, a 
fragment). Three more Danish versions of 
' Ribold og Guldborg ' are furnished by Kris- 
tensen, Gamle jydske Folkeviser, i, No 37, n. 
No 84 A, B (C*, D*, B*). To these we may 
add the last half, sts 15-30, of ' Den farlige 
Jomfru,' Grundtvig, 184 G. Of Grundtvig's 
texts, 82 A is of the sixteenth century ; B-H 
are of the seventeenth ; the remainder and 
Kristensen's three from recent tradition. Six 
versions of ' Hildebrand og Hilde,' A-F, are 
of the seventeenth century; one is of the 
eighteenth, G ; and the remaining two are 
from oral tradition of our day. 

The first six of Grundtvig's versions of ' Ri- 
bold and Guldborg,' A-F, are all from manu- 
scripts, and all of a pure traditional char- 
acter, untampered with by " collators." G- and 
H are mixed texts : they have F for their 
basis, but have admitted stanzas from other 
sources. Most of the versions from recitation 
are wonderful examples and proofs of the 
fidelity with which simple people " report and 
hold " old tales : for, as the editor has shown, 
verses which never had been printed, but 
which are found in old manuscripts, are now 
met with in recited copies ; and these recited 
copies, again, have verses that occur in no Dan- 
ish print or manuscript, but which neverthe- 
less are found in Norwegian and Swedish reci- 
tations, and, what is more striking, in Ice- 
landic tradition of two hundred years' stand- 

The story in the older Danish ballads runs 
thus. Ribold, a king's son, sought Guldborg's 
love in secret. He said he would carry her 
to a land where death and sorrow came not ; 
where all the birds were cuckoos, and all the 
grass was leeks, and all the streams ran wine. 
Guldborg, not indisposed, asked how she 
should evade the watch kept over her by all 
her family and by her betrothed. Ribold dis- 
guised her in his cloak and armor, B, B, P, 
and rode off, with Guldborg behind him. On 
the heath they meet a rich earl [a crafty man, 
C; her betrothed, D], who asks, Whither away, 


with your stolen maid ? [little page, B, F.] 
Ribold replies that it is his youngest sister, 
whom he has taken from a cloister. A, B [sick 
sister, C ; brother, B, F ; page, D]. This shift 
avails nothing ; no more does a bribe which 
he offers for keeping his secret. Report is at 
once made to her father that Guldborg has 
eloped with Ribold. Guldborg perceives that 
they are pursued, and is alarmed. Ribold re- 
assures her, and prepares to meet his foes. 
He bids Guldborg hold his horse, B, C, B, and, 
whatever may happen, not to call him by/ 
name: " Though thou see me bleed, name me I 
not to death ; though thou see me fall, name 
me not at all ! " Ribold cuts down six or \ 
seven of her brothers and her father, besides 
others of her kin ; the youngest brother only 
is left, and Guldborg in an agony calls upon 
Ribold to spare him, to carry tidings to her 
mother. No sooner was his name pronounced 
than Ribold received a mortal wound. He 
sheathed his sword, and said, Come, wilt 
thou ride with me ? Wilt thou go home to 
thy mother again, or wilt thou follow so sad 
a swain ? And she answered, I will not 
go home to my mother again ; I will follow 
thee, my heart's dearest man. They rode 
through the wood, and not a word came from 
the mouth of either. Guldborg asked. Why 
art thou not as glad as before ? And Ribold 
answered, Thy brother's sword has been in 
my heart. They reached his house. He 
called to one to take his horse, to another to 
bring a priest, and said his brother should 
have Guldborg. But she would not give her 
faith to two brothers. Ribold died that night, 
C. Three dead came from Ribold's bower: 
Ribold and his lief, and his mother, who died 
of grief ! In A Guldborg slays herself, and 
dies in her lover's arms. 

' Hildebrand and Hilde,' A, B, C, D, opens 
with the heroine in a queen's service, sewing 
her seam wildly, putting silk for gold and gold 
for silk. The queen calls her to account. 
Hilde begs her mistress to listen to her tale 
of sorrow. She was a king's daughter. Twelve 
knights had been appointed to be her guard, 
and one had beguiled her, Hildebrand, son of 
the king of England. They went off together, 



and were surprised by her brothers [father, B, 
C, D]. Hildebrand bade her be of good 
cheer ; but she must not call him by name if 
she saw him bleed or fall, A, B, D. A heap 
of knights soon lay at his feet. Hilde forgot 
herself, and called out, Hildebrand, spare 
my youngest brother ! Hildebrand that in- 
stant received a mortal wound, and fell. The 
younger brother tied her to his horse, and 
dragged her home. They shut her up at first 
in a strong tower, built for the purpose. A, 
B [SwedislTA, a dark house], and afterwards 
sold her into servitude for a church bell. Her 
mother's heart broke at the bell's first stroke, 
and Hilde, with the last word of her tale, fell 
dead in the queen's arms. 

The most important deviation of the later 
versions from the old is exhibited by S and T, 
and would probably be observed in Q, R, as 
well, were these complete. S, T are either a 
mixture of ' Ribold and Guldborg ' with ' Hil- 
debrand and Hilde,' or forms transitional be- 
tween the two. In these Ribold does not live 
to reach his home, and Guldborg, unable to 
return to hers, offers herself to a queen, to 
spin silk and weave gold [braid hair and work 
gold]. But she cannot sew for grief. The 
queen smacks her on the cheek for neglecting 
her needle. Poor Guldborg utters a protest, 
but gives no explanation, and the next morn- 
ing is found dead. Singularly enough, the 
nS-me of the hero in Q, R, S, T, is also an in- 
termediate form. Ribold is the name in all 
the old Danish copies except C, and that has 
Ride-bolt. Danish I, K, X, Z, all the Ice- 
landic copies, and Swedish D, have either Ri- 
bold or some unimportant variation. Q, R, S, 
have Ride-brand [T, Rederbrand]. All copies 
of Grundtvig 83, except Danish G, Swedish 
C, which do not give the hero's name, have 
Hilde-brand ; so also 82 N, O, P, V, and Kris- 
tensen, i. No 37. The name of the woman 
is nearly constant both in 82 and 83. 

The paradise promised Guldborg in all the 
old versions of 82 * disappears from the re- 

* Though the paradise has not been transmitted in any 
known copy of ' Earl Brand/ it appears very distinctly in 
the openinj^ stanza of ' Leesome Brand ' A. This last has 
several stanzas towards the close (33-35) which seem to be- 

cited copies, except K, M. It certainly did 
not originally belong to ' Ribold and Guld- 
borg,' or to another Danish ballad in which it 
occurs (' Den trofaste Jomfru,' Grundtvig, 249 
A), but rather to ballads like ' Kvindemorde- 
ren,' Grundtvig, 183 A, or ' Llti Kersti,' Land- 
stad, 44, where a supernatural being, a demon 
or a hillman, seeks to entice away a mor- 
tal maid. See No 4, p. 27. In 82 L, N, U, 
V, Y, -ffl, 0, and Kristensen's copies, the lov- 
ers are not encountered by anybody who re- 
ports their flight. Most of the later versions, 
K, L, M, N, P, U, V, Y, M, 0, and Kris- 
tensen's three, make them halt in a wood, 
where Ribold goes to sleep in Guldborg's lap, 
arid is roused by her when she perceives that 
they are pursued. So Norwegian B, Swed- 
ish A, B, C, and ' Hildebrand and Hilde ' B. 
M, Q, R, S, T, Z, have not a specific prohi- 
bition of dead-naming, but even these enjoin 
silence. 83 C is the only ballad in which 
there is a fight and no prohibition of either 
kind, but it is clear from the course of the 
story that the stanza containing the usual in- 
junction has simply dropped out. P is distin- 
guished from all other forms of the story by 
the heroine's killing herself before her dying 
lover reaches his house. 

The four first copies of ' Hildebrand and 
Hilde,' as has been seen, have the story of 
Ribold and Guldborg with some slight dif- 
ferences and some abridgment. There is no 
elopement in B: the lovers are surprised in 
the princess' bower. When Hilde has fin- 
ished her tale, in A, the queen declares that 
Hildebrand was her son. In B she interrupts 
the narrative by announcing her discovery 
that Hildebrand was her brother. C and D 
have nothing of the sort. There is no fight 
in E-H. E has taken up the commonplace 
of the bower on the strand which was forced 
by nine men.f Hildebrand is again the son of 
the queen, and, coming in just as Hilde has 
expired, exclaims that he will have no other 
love, sets his sword against a stone, and runs 

long to ' Earl Brand,' and perhaps derived these, the " unco 
land," and even its name, by the familiar process of inter- 
mixture of traditions, 
t See No 5, pp. 64, 65, 66. 



upon it. H has the same catastrophe. F 
represents the father as simply showing great 
indignation and cruelty on finding out that 
one of the guardian knights had beguiled his 
daughter, and presently selling her for a new 
church bell. The knight turns out here again 
to be the queen's son ; the queen says he 
shall betroth Hille, and Hille faints for joy. 
G agrees with B as to the surprise in the 
bower. The knight's head is hewn off on the 
spot. The queen gives Hilde her youngest 
son for a husband, and Hilde avows that she 
is consoled. I agrees with E so far as it goes, 
but is a short fragment. 

There are three Icelandic versions of this 
ballad, ' Ribbalds kvaeSi,' fslenzk FornkvaeSi, 
No 16, all of the seventeenth century. They 
all come reasonably close to the Danish as to 
the story, and particularly A. Ribbald, with 
no prologue, invites Gullbrun " to ride." He 
sets her on a white horse ; of all women she 
rode best. They have gone but a little way, 
when they see a pilgrim riding towards them, 
who hails Ribbald with, Welcome, with thy 
stolen maid ! Ribbald pretends that the maid 
is his sister, but the pilgrim knows very well 
it is Gullbrun, She offers her cloak to him 
not to tell her father, but the pilgrim goes 
straight to the king, and says, Thy daugh- 
ter is off ! The king orders his harp to be 
brought, for no purpose but to dash it on the 
floor once and twice, and break out the strings. 
He then orders his horse. Gullbrun sees her 
father come riding under a hill-side, then her 
eleven brothers, then seven brothers-in-law. 
She begs Ribbald to spare her youngest broth- 
er's life, that he may carry the news to her 
mother. He replies, I will tie my horse by 
the reins ; you take up your sewing ! then 
three times forbids her to name him during 
the fight. He slew her father first, next the 
eleven brothers, then the other seven, all which 
filled her with compunction, and she cried 
out, Ribbald, still thy brand ! On the in- 
stant Ribbald received many wounds. He 
wiped his bloody sword, saying. This is what 
you deserve, Gullbrun, but love is your shield ; 
then set her on her horse, and rode to his 
brother's door. He called out, Here is a wife 

for you ! But Gullbrun said. Never will I be 
giten to two brothers. Soon after Ribbald 
gave up the ghost. There was more mourn- 
ing than mirth ; three bodies went to the 
grave in one coffin, Ribbald, his lady, and his 
mother, who died of grief. 

B and C have lost something at the begin- 
ning, C starting at the same point as our 
' Douglas Tragedy.' The king pursues Rib- 
bald by water. Gullbrun (B) stands in a 
tower and sees him land. Ribbald gives Gull- 
brun to his brother, as in A : she lives in sor- 
row, and dies a maid. 

Norwegian. (' Ribold and Guldborg.') A, 
' Rikeball og stolt GuSbjorg,' Landstad, 33 ; 

B, ' Veneres og stolt Olleber,' Landstad, 34 ; 

C, D, B, P, in part described and cited, with 
six other copies, Grundtvig, in, p. 853 f. The 
last half of Landstad No 23, stanzas 17-34, and 
stanzas 18-25 of Landstad 28 B, also belong 
here. A agrees with the older Danish ver- 
sions, even to the extent of the paradise. B 
has been greatly injured. Upon the lady's 
warning Veneres of the approach of her fa- 
ther, he puts her up in an oak-tree for safety. 
He warns her not to call him by name, and 
she says she will rather die first ; but her firm- 
ness is not put to the test in this ballad, some 
verses having dropped out just at this point. 
Veneres is advised to surrender, but dispatches 
his assailants by eighteen thousands (like Lil- 
le br6r, in Landstad, 23), and by way of con- 
clusion hews the false P41 greive, who had re- 
ported his elopement to OUeber's father, into 
as many pieces. He then takes Olleber on 
his horse, they ride away and are married. 
Such peculiarities in the other copies as are 
important to us will be noticed further on. 

(' Hildebrand and Hilde.') A, one of two 
Norwegian copies communicated by Professor 
Bugge to Grundtvig, ni, 857 f, agrees well 
with Danish E, but has the happy conclusion 
of Danish F, G, I. The heroine is sold for 
nine bells. B, the other, omits the bower- 
breaking of A and Danish E, and ends wdth 

The Swedish forms of ' Ribold and Guld- 
borg ' are : A, ' Hillebrand,' Afzelius, No 2 ; 
B, ' Herr Redebold,' and C, ' Kung Vallemo/ 



Afzelius, No 80; new ed., No 2, i, 2, 3; D, 
' Ribbolt,' Arwidsson, No 78 ; E, ' Herr Rede- 
bold ' F, 'Herting Liljebrand,' and G, 'Herr 
Balder,' in Cavallius and Stephens' manu- 
script collection ; H, ' Kung Walmon,' E. 
Wigstrom's Folkdiktning, No 15, p. 33. A, 

B, C, H, are not markedly different from tbe 
ordinary Danish ballad, and this is true also, 
says Grundtvig, of the unprinted versions, E, 
P, G. D and G are of the seventeenth cent- 
ury, the others from recent tradition. Ribold 
is pictured in D as a bold prince, equally versed 
in runes and arts as in manly exercises. He 
visits Giotha by night : they slumber sweet, 
but wake in blood. She binds up his wounds 
with rich kerchiefs. He rides home to his fa- 
ther's,, and sits down on a bench. The king 
bids his servants see what is the matter, and 
adds. Be he sick or be he hurt, he got it at 
Giotha- Lilla's. They report the prince stabbed 
with sharp pikes within, and bound with silk 
kerchiefs without. Ribold bids them bury 
him in the mould, and not blame Giotha-Lilla ; 
" for my horse was fleet, and I was late, and 
he hurtled me 'gainst an apple-tree " (so 
Hillebrand in A). E represents the heroine 
as surviving her lover, and united to a young 
king, but always grieving for Redebold. 

'Hildebrand and Hilde' exists in Swedish in 
three versions : A, a broadside of the last part 
of the seventeenth century, now printed in the 
new edition of Afzelius, p. 142 ff of the notes 
(the last nine stanzas before, in Danske Viser, 
m, 438 f ) ; B, Afzelius, No 32, new ed. No 26, 

C, Arwidsson, No 107, both taken down in this 
century. In A and B Hillebrand, son of the 
king of England, carries off Hilla ; they halt 
in a grove ; she wakes him from his sleep 
when she hears her father and seven brothers 
coming; he enjoins her not to call him by 
name, which still she does upon her father's 
being slain [or when only her youngest brother 
is left], and Hillebrand thereupon receives 
mortal wounds. He wipes his sword, saying. 
This is what you would deserve, were you 
not Hilla. The youngest brother ties Hilla 
to his horse, drags her home, and confines her 
in a dark house, which swarms with snakes 
and dragons (A only). They sell her for a 

new church bell, and her mother's heart breaks 
at the first sound. Hilla falls dead at the 
queen's knee. C has lost the dead-naming, 
and ends with the queen's promising to be 
Hilla's best friend. 

A detailed comparison of the English bal- 
lads, and especially of ' Earl Brand,' with the 
Scandinavian (such as Grundtvig has made, 
in, 855 f) shows an unusual and very inter- 
esting agreement. The name Earl Brand, to 
begin with, is in all probability a modification 
of the Hildebrand found in Danish 82 N, O, 
P, V, C*, in all versions of Danish 83, and in 
the corresponding Swedish A. Ell, too, in 
Percy's fragment, which may have been EUe 
earlier, points to Hilde, or something like it, 
and Erl-inton might easily be corrupted from 
such a form as the Alibrand of Norwegian B 
(Grundtvig, in, 858). Hildebrand is the son 
of the king of England in Danish 83 A-E, and 
the lady in ' Earl Brand ' is the same king's 
daughter, an interchange such as is constantly 
occurring in tradition. Stanza 2 can hardly be 
the rightful property of ' Earl Brand.' Some- 
thing very similar is met with in ' Leesome 
Brand,' and is not much in place there. For 
' old Carl Hood,' of whom more presently, 
Danish 82 X and Norwegian A, C have an 
old man, Danish C a crafty man, T a false 
younker, and Norwegian B and three others 
" false P^l greive." The lady's urging Earl 
Brand to slay the old carl, and the answer, 
that it would be sair to kill a gray-haired man, 
sts 8, 9, are almost literally repeated in Nor- 
wegian A, Landstad, No 33. The knight does 
slay the old man in Danish X and Norwegian 
C, and slays the court page in Danish Z, and 
false Pdl greive in Norwegian B, — in this last 
after the battle. The question, " Where have 
ye stolen this lady away ? " in st. 11, occurs 
in Danish 82 A, D, E, K, P, R, S, T, Z, in 
Norwegian B and Icelandic B, and something 
very similar in many other copies. The re- 
ply, " She is my sick' sister, whom I have 
brought from Winchester " [nunnery] , is found 
almost literally in Danish C, X, Z : " It is my 
sick sister; I took her yesterday from the 
cloister." [Danisti E, it is my youngest sister 
from the cloister; she is sick: Danish A, 



youngest sister from cloister : Danish R and 
Norwegian B, sister from cloister : Danish S, 
T, sister's daughter from cloister : Norwegian 
F, sister from Holstein : Danish P, Icelandic 

A, Norwegian A, sister.] The old man, crafty 
man, rich earl, in the Scandinavian ballads, 
commonly answers that he knows Guldborg 
very well ; but in Danish D, where Ribold says 
it is a court page he has hired, we have some- 
thing like sts 14, 15 : " Why has he such silk- 
braided hair ? " On finding themselves dis- 
covered, the lovers, in the Scandinavian bal- 
lad, attempt to purchase silence with a bribe: 
Danish A-I, M, Icelandic and Norwegian A, 

B. This is not expressly done in 'Earl Brand,' 
but the same seems to be meant in st. 10 by 
" I '11 gie him a pound." St. 17 is fairly par- 
alleled by Danish S, 18, 19 : " Where is Guld- 
borg, thy daughter ? Walking in the garden, 
gathering roses ; " and st. 18, by Norwegian 
B, 15 : " You may search without and search 
within, and see whether Olleberyou can find." 
The announcement in st. 19 is made in al- 
most all the Scandinavian ballads, in words 
equivalent to " Ribold is off with thy daugh- 
ter," and then follows the arming for the pur- 
suit. The lady looks over her shoulder and 
sees her father coming, as in st. 21, in Danish 
82 A, F, H, I, Q, R, T, X, Z, and Norwe- 
gian A. 

The scene of the fight is better preserved 
in the Scottish ballads than in ' Earl Brand,' 
though none of these have the cardinal inci- 
dent of the death-naming. All the Scottish 
versions, B-F, and also ' Erlinton,' A, B, make 
the lady hold the knight's horse : so Danish 
82 B, C, B, I, ^, D*, Icelandic C, Norwegian 
and Swedish A, and Danish 83 D. Of the 
knight's injunction, " Name me not to death, 
though thou see me bleed," which, as has been 
noted, is kept by nearly every Danish ballad 
(and by the Icelandic, the Norwegian, and by 
Swedish ' Ribold and Guldborg,' A, B, C, H, 
Swedish ' Hildebrand and Hilde,' A, B), there 
is left in English only this faint trace, in 
' Erlinton,' A, B : " See ye dinna change your 
cheer until ye see my bddy bleed." It is the 
wish to save the life of her youngest brother 
that causes the lady to call her lover by name 

in the larger number of Scandinavian ballads, 
and she adds, " that he may carry the tidings 
to my mother," in Danish 82 A, B, C, E, F, 
G, H, M, X, 83 B, C, D. Grief for her fa- 
ther's death is the impulse in Danish 82 I, N, 
O, Q, R, S, Y, Z, M, 0, A*, C*, D', E*, Swed- 
ish A, B, C, H. English A says nothing of 
father or brother; but in B, C, D, E, it is 
the father's death that causes the exclama- 
tion. All the assailants are slain in ' Erlinton ' 

A, B, except an aged knight [the auldest 
man], and he is spared to carry the tidings 
home. ' Erlinton ' C, however, agrees with the 
oldest Danish copies in making the youngest 
brother the motive of the lady's intervention. 
It is the fifteenth, and last, of the assailants 
that gives Earl Brand his death-wound ; in 
Danish H, the youngest brother, whom he has 
been entreated to spare ; and so, apparently, 
in Danish C and Norwegian A. 

The question, " Will you go with me or re- 
turn to your mother? " which we find in Eng- 
lish B, C, D, is met with also in many Dan- 
ish versions, 82 B, H, K, L, M, N, P, U, Z, 
M, 0, C*, and Swedish A, B, C. The dying 
man asks to have his bed made in English B, 
C, as in Danish 82 B, C, K, L, N, U, X, JEl, 
0, C*, D*, Norwegian A, Swedish A, B, C, H, 
and desires that the lady may marry his brother 
in English A, as in nearly all the Danish ver- 
sions, Icelandic A, B, C, Norwegian C, D, E, 
Swedish C. He declares her a maiden true in 
' Earl Brand,' A c 33, and affirms the same 
with more particularity in Danish 82 B, C, 

B, F, G, M, 0, Icelandic B, C, Norwegian 
A, C, E, Swedish C. The growth of the rose 
and brier [bush and brier] from the lovers' 
grave in English B, C, is not met with in any 
version of ' Ribold and Guldborg ' proper, but 
' Den farlige Jomfru ' G, Grundtvig, 184, the 
last half of which, as already remarked, is a 
fragment of a Ribold ballad, has a linden in 
place of the rose and brier. 

No complete ballad of the Ribold class is 
known to have survived in German, but a 
few verses have been interpolated by tradition 
in the earliest copy of the Ulinger ballad 
(vv. 47-56), which may almost with certainty 
be assigned to one of the other description. 



They disturb the narrative where they are, 
and a ready occasion for their slipping in was 
afforded by the scene being exactly the same 
in both ballads : a knight and a lady, with 
whom he had eloped, resting in a wood.* See 
No 4, p. 82 of this volftrae. 

We find in a pretty Neapolitan-Albanian 
ballad, which, with others, is regarded by the 
editors as a fragment of a connected poem, 
several of the features of these northern ones. 
A youth asks a damsel in marriage, but is not 
favored by her mother, father, or brother. 
He wins over first the mother and then the 
father by handsome presents, but his gifts, 
though accepted, do not conciliate the brother. 
He carries off the lady on horseback, and is 
attacked by the brother, four uncles, and seven 
cousins. He is killed and falls from his horse ; 
with him the lady falls dead also, and both are 
covered up with stones. In the spring the 
youth comes up a cypress, the damsel comes 
up a vine, and encloses the cypress in her arms. 
(Rapsodie d'un poema albanese raccolte nelle 
colonic del Napoletano, de Rada and de' Co- 
ronei, Florence, 1866, lib. ii., canto viii.) 

These ballads would seem to belong among 
the numerous ramifications of the Hilde saga. 
Of these, the second lay of Helgi Hunding- 
slayer, in Ssemund's Edda, and ' Waltharius,' 
the beautiful poem of Ekkehard, are most like 
the ballads.f Leaving ' Waltharius ' till we 
come to ' Erlinton,' we may notice that Sigrtin, 
in the Helgi lay, though promised by her father 

* Compare vv 49-56, " Wilt thou ride to them, or wilt 
thou fight with them, or wilt thou stand by thy love, sword 
in hand 1" "I will not ride to them, I will not fight with 
them [i. e., begin the fight], but I will stand by my love, 
sword in hand," with Norwegian A, 29, 30 : " Shall we 
ride to the wood, or shall we bide like men ? " " We will 
not ride to the wood, but we will bide like men." And also 
with Danish iE, sts 14, 15. 

t The chief branches, besides the Helgi lay and Walter, 
are the saga in Snorri's Edda, Skaldskaparmal, § 50 ; that in 
Saxo Grammaticus, Stephanius, ed. 1644, pp. 88-90; Sorla 
Jjattr, in Fornaldar Sugar, i, 391 ff; the Shetland ballad 
printed in Low's Tour through the Islands of Orkney and 
Shetland, 108 fF, and in Barry's History of the Orkney 
Islands, 2d ed., 489 fi; and paraphrased in Hibbert's Descrip- 
tion of the Shetland Islands, 561 £E ; the Thidrik saga, §§ 233- 
239, Unger ; Gudrun, v-viii. The names of father, daughter, 
and lover in these are : (1) Hogni, — , Hogni, Hcigin-, Hogni, 
— , [Artus], Hagen ; (2) [Signin], Hilde-gunde, Hildr, Hilda, 
Hildr, Hildina, Hildr, Hilde; (3) Helgi, [Walter], Hedin, 
Hithin-, Hedin, — , [Herburt], Hetel. Hagan, in 'Waltha- 

to another man, Hodbrodd, son of Granmar, 
preferred Helgi. She sought him out, and told 
him frankly her predicament : she feared, she 
said, the wrath of her friends, for breaking her 
father's promise. Helgi accepted her affec- 
tion, and bade her not care for the displeasure 
of her relatives. A great battle ensued be- 
tween Helgi and the sons of Granmar, who were 
aided by Sigrtin's father and brothers. All her 
kinsmen were slain except one brother. Dag. 
He bound himself to peace with Helgi, but, 
notwithstanding, made sacrifices to Odin to 
obtain the loan of his spear, and with it slew 
Helgi. We have, therefore, in so much of 
the lay of Helgi Hundingslayer, the ground- 
work of the story of the ballads : a woman, 
who, as in many of the Ribold ballads, has 
been betrothed to a man she does not care for, 
gives herself to another ; there is a fight, in 
which a great number of her kinsmen fall; 
one brother survives, who is the death of the 
man she loves. The lay of Helgi Hiorvard's 
son, whose story has much in common with 
that of his namesake, affords two resemblances 
of detail not found in the lay of the Hun- 
dingslayer. Helgi Hiorvard's son, while his 
life-blood is ebbing, expresses himself in al- 
most the words of the dying Ribold : " The 
sword has come very near my heart." He 
then, like Ribold and Earl Brand, declares his 
wish that his wife should marry his brother, 
and she, like Guldborg, declines a second 
union. ^ 

rius,' may be said to take the place of the father, who is want- 
ing; and this is in a measure true also of Hedin, Helgi's half- 
brother, in the lay of Helgi Hiorvard's son. See the excellent 
discussion of the saga by Klee, Zur Hildesage, Leipzig, 

The Swedish ballad, ' Herr Hjelmer,' A, Arwidsson, i, 155, 
No 21 ; B, C, Afzelius, ii, 178, 226, No 74 (Helmer) ; D, 
E. Wigstrijm, Folkdiktning, p. 25, No 10 (Hjelman), has 
several points of agreement with Ribold and the Hilde saga. 
The hero kills six of seven brothers [also the father, in A], 
spares the seventh on oath of fidelity, and is treacherously 
slain by him. The youngest brother carries her lover's head 
to his sister, is invited to drink by her (in three of the four 
copies), and slain while so engaged ; reminding us of Hil- 
dina in the Shetland ballad. Danish ' Herr Hjaelm,' Grundt- 
vig, Danske Folkeminder, 1861, p. 81, agrees with the Swed- 
ish, except that there are onl^ three brothers. 

t HelgakviSa HjorvartJssonar, ed. Grundtvig, 42-44, Ribold 
og Guldborg, A 33, 34, B 46, D 46, 47, E 42, Q 24. The 
observation is Professor Bugge's. 



There is also a passage in the earlier his- 
tory of Helgi Hundingslayer of , which traces 
appear to be preserved in ballads, and be- 
fore all in the English ballad 'Earl Brand,' 
A. Hunding and Helgi's family were at feud. 
Helgi introduced himself into Hunding's court 
as a spy, and when he was retiring sent word 
to Hunding's son that he had been there dis- 
guised as a son of Hagal, Helgi's foster-father. 
Hunding sent men to take him, and Helgi, to 
escape them, was forced to assume woman's 
clothes and grind at the mill. While Hun- 
ding's men are making search, a mysterious 
blind man, surnamed the bale- wise, or evil- 
witted (Blindr inn bolvlsi), calls out. Sharp 
are the eyes of Hagal's maid ; it is no churl's 
blood that stands at the mill ; the stones are 
riving, the meal-trough is springing ; a hard 
lot has befallen a war-king when a chieftain 
must grind strange barley ; fitter for that hand 
is the sword-hilt than the mill-handle. Ha- 
gal pretends that the fierce-eyed maid is a 
virago whom Helgi had taken captive, and in 
the end Helgi escapes. This malicious person- 
age reappears in the HrSmund saga as " Blind 
the Bad " and " the Carl Blind, surnamed Ba- 
vls," and is found elsewhere. His likeness to 
" old Carl Hood," who " comes for ill, but 
never for good," and who gives information 
of Earl Brand's flight with the king's daugh- 
ter, does not require to be insisted on. Both 
are identical, we can scarcely doubt, with the 
blind [one-eyed] old man of many tales, who 
goes about in various disguises, sometimes as 
beggar, with his hood or hat slouched over his 
face, — that is Odin, the SiShottr or Deep- 
hood of Ssemund, who in the saga of H4lf and 
his champions is called simple Hood, as here, 
and expressly said to be Odin.* Odin, though 

* Hottr, er 6(5inn var reyndar, Hood, who was Odin really, 
Fornaldar Sogur, ii, p. 25. Klee observes, p. 10 f, that 
Hogni [Hagen] is the evil genius of the Hiidesage. Some- 
times he is the heroine's father ; in ' Waltharius,' strangely 
enough, the hero's old friend (and even there a one-eyed 
man.) Klee treats the introduction of a rival lover (as in the 
Shetland ballad and Gudrun) as a departure from the older 
story. But we have the rival in Helgi Hundingslayer. The 
proper marplot in this lay is Blind the Ill-witted (Odin), 
whose part is sustained in ' Earl Brand ' by the malicious 
Hood, in several Norwegian ballads by a very enigmatical 
" false Pal greive," in two other Norwegian ballads and one 

not a thoroughly malignant divinity, had his ' 
dark side, and one of his titles in Ssemund's 
Edda is Bolverkr, maleficus. He first caused 
war by casting his spear among men, and Dag, 
after he has killed Helgi, says Odin was the 
author of all the mischief, for he brought 
strife among kinsmen. f 

The disastrous effects of "naming" in a 
great emergency appear in other northern tra- 
ditions, though not so frequently as one would 
expect. A diverting Swedish saga, which has 
been much quoted, relates how St. Olof bar- 
gained with a troll for the building of a huge 
church, the pay to be the sun and moon, or 
St. Olof himself. The holy man was equally 
amazed and embarrassed at seeing the build- 
ing run up by the troll with great rapidity, 
Tbut during a ramble among the hills had the 
good luck to discover that the troll's name was 
Wind and Weather, after which all was easy. 
For while the troll was on the roof of the 
church, Olof called out to him, 

' Wind and Weather, hi ! 
You 've set the spire awry ; ' 

and the troll, thus called by his name, lost his 
strength, fell off, and was dashed into a hun- 
dred pieces, all flint stones. (Iduna, Part 3, 
p. 60 f, note. Other forms of the same story 
in Afzelius, Sagb-Hafder, III, 100 f ; Faye, 
Norske Folke-Sagn, p. 14, 2d ed. ; Hofberg, 
Nerikes Garala Minnen, p. 234.) 

It is a Norwegian belief that when a nix 
assumes the human shape in order to carry 
some one off, it will be his death if the se- 
lected victim recognizes him and names him, 
and in this way a woman escaped in a ballad. 
She called out, So you are the Nix, that pes- 
tilent beast, and the nix " disappeared in red 

Danish by an old man, and, what is most remarkable, in the 
Shetland ballad by the rejected lover of Hildina (the Sir 
Nilaus of Danish D, Hertug Nilssdn of some Norwegian 
copies), who bears the name Hiluge, interpreted with great 
probability by Conrad Hofmann (Munich Sitzungsberichte, 
1867, II, 209, note), lUhugi, der Bossinnige, evil-minded 
(Icelandic fllhugaSr, illutJigr.) 

t Inimicitias Othinus serit, Saxo, p. 142, ed. 1644. See 
Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, i, 120, note 2, iii, 56, new ed., 
for Odin's bad points, though some of Grimm's interpreta- 
tions might now be objected to. 



blood." (Faye, as above, p. 49, note.) A nix 
is baffled in the same way in a Fseroe and an 
Icelandic ballad cited by Grundtvig, II, 57. 

The marvellous horse Blak agrees to carry 
Waldemar [Hildebrand] over a great piece of 
water for the rescue of his daughter [sister] , 
stipulating, however, that his name shall not 
be uttered. The rider forgets himself in a 
panic, calls to the horse by his name, and is 
thrown off into the water. The horse, whose 
powers had been supernatural, and who had 
been running over the water as if it were land, 
has now only ordinary strength, and is forced 
to swim. He brings the lady back on the 
same terms, which she keeps, but when he 
reaches the land he is bleeding at every hair, 
and falls dead. (Landstad, 58 ; Grundtvig, 62 ; 
Afzelius, 59, preface ; Kristensen, i. No QQ.^ 

Klaufi, a berserker, while under the opera- 
tion of his peculiar fury, loses his strength, 
and can no longer wield the weapon he was 
fighting with, upon Griss's crying out, " Klaufi, 
Klaufi, be not so mad ! " (Svarfdaela Saga, p. 
147, and again p. 156 f.) So the blood-thirst 
of the avenger's sword in the magnificent 
Danish ballad ' Hgevnersvaerdet ' is restrained 
bynaming. (Grundtvig, No 25, st. 35.) Again, 
men engaged in hamfarir^ that is in roving 
about in the shape of beasts, their proper 
bodies remaining lifeless the while, must not 
be called by name, for this might compel them 
to return at once to their own shape, or pos- 
sibly prevent their ever doing so. (Kristni 
Saga, ed. 1773, p. 149. R. T. King, in Notes 
and Queries, 2d Ser., ii, 506.) Grundtvig re- 
mai'ks that this belief is akin to what is re- 
lated in Fdfnism^l (prose interpolation after 
St. 1), that Sigurd concealed his name by rea- 
son of a belief in old times that a dying man's 
word had great power, if he cursed his foe 
by name. (D. g. F., n, 340.) 

The beautiful fancy of plants springing from 
the graves of star-crossed lovers, and signify- 
ing by the intertwining of stems or leaves, 
or in other analogous ways, that an earthly 
passion has not been extinguished by death, 
presents itself, as is well known, very fre- 
quently in popular poetry. Though the graves 
be made far apart, even on opposite sides of 

the church, or one to the north and one to 
the south outside of the church, or one with- 
out kirk wall and one in the choir, however 
separated, the vines or trees seek one another 
out, and mingle their branches or their fo- 
liage : 

" Even from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, 
Even in our ashes live their wonted fires ! " 

^The principal ballads which exhibit this 
conception in one or another form are the fol- 
lowing : 

In English, ' The Douglas Tragedy,' ' Fair 
Margaret and Sweet William,' ' Lord Thomas 
and Fair Annet,' ' Fair Janet,' ' Prince Robert,' 
' Lord Lovel.' The plants in all these are either 
a brier and a rose, or a brier and a birk. 

Swedish. Arwidsson, No 73 : the graves 
are made east and west of the church, a lin- 
den grows from each, the trees meet over the 
church roof. So E. Wigstrom, Folkdiktning, 
No 20, p. 42. Arwidsson 74 A : Rosea Lilla 
and the duke are buried south and north in 
the church-yard. A rose from her grave cov- 
ers his with its leaves. The duke is then laid 
in her grave, from which a linden springs. 
74 B : the rose as before, and a linden from the 
duke's grave. Arwidsson, 72, 68, Afzelius, 
No 19 (new ed., 18), 23 (new ed., 21, i, 2): 
a common grave, with a linden, two trees, or 
lilies, and, in the last, roses also growing from 
the mouths of both lovers. In one version 
the linden leaves bear the inscription. My 
father shall answer to me at doomsday. 

Norwegian. Landstad, 65 : the lovers are 
laid north and south of the church ; lilies grow 
over the church roof. 

Danish. Danske Viser, 124, 153, two roses. 
Kristensen, 11, No 60, two lilies, interlocking 
over church wall and ridge. 61 B, C (= Af- 
zelius, 19), separate graves ; B, a lily from 
each grave ; C, a flower from each breast. 
Grundtvig, 184 G, 271 N, a linden; Danske 
Folkeminder, 1861, p. 81, two lilies. 

German. ' Der Ritter u. die Maid,' (1) 
Nicolai, i. No 2, = Kretzschmer, I, 54 ; (2) 
Uhland, 97 A, Simrock, 12 ; (3) Erk's Lied- 
erhort, 26 ; Hoffmann u. Richter, 4 : the lov- 
ers are buried together, and there grow from 



their grave (1) three pinks, (2) three lilies, 
(3) two lilies. Wunderhorn, 1857, 1, 53, Mit- 
tler, No 91 : the maid is buried in the church- 
yard, the knight under the gallows. A lily 
grows from his grave, with an inscription, Beid 
waren beisammen im Himmel. Ditfurth, ll, 
7 : two lilies spring from her (or their) grave, 
bearing a similar inscription. In Haupt and 
Schmaler, Volkslieder der Wenden, i, 136, 
from the German, rue is planted on the maid's 
grave, in accordance with the last words of 
the knight, and the same inscription appears 
on one of the leaves. 

'Graf Friedrich,' Uhland, 122, Wunder- 
horn, II, 293, Mittler, 108, Erk's Lieder- 
hort, 15 a : Graf Friedrich's bride is by ac- 
cident mortally wounded while he is bring- 
ing her home. Her father kills him, and he 
is dragged at a horse's heels. Three lilies 
spring from his grave, with an inscription, 
Er war bei Gott geblieben. He is then 
buried with his bride, the transfer being at- 
tended with other miraculous manifestations. 
Other versions, Hoffmann u. Richter, 19, = 
Mittler, 112, = Liederhort, 15 ; Mittler, 113, 
114 ; also Meinert, 23, = Mittler, 109, etc. : 
the lilies in most of these growing from the 
bride's grave, with words attesting the knight's 

Lilies with inscriptions also in Wunder- 
horn, II, p. 251, = Mittler, 128, ' AUe bei 
Gott die sich lieben ; ' Mittler, 130 ; Ditfurth, 
n, 4, 9 ; Scherer, Jungbrunnen, 9 A, 25 ; Po- 
gatschnigg und Hermann, 1458. Three lilies 
from a maid's grave : ' Die schwazbraune 
Hexe ' (' Es blies ein Jager '), Nicolai, i, 8 
Wunderhorn, i, 36 ; Grater's Bragur, i, 280 
Uhland, 103 ; Liederhort, 9 ; Simrock, 93 
Fiedler, p. 158 ; Ditfurth, ii, 33, 34 ; Reiffer- 
scheid, 15, etc. Three roses, Hoffmann u. 
Richter, 171, p. 194; three pinks, ib., 172; 
rose, pink, lily, Alemannia, IV, 35. Three 
lilies from a man's grave : ' Der Todwunde : ' 
Schade, Bergreien, 10, = Uhland, 93 A, = 
Liederhort, 34 g, = Mittler, 47, etc. 

Portuguese. ' Conde Nillo,' ' Conde Nino,' 
Almeida-Garrett, ill, No 18, at p. 21 ; Braga, 
Rom. Geral., No 14, at p. 38, = Hartung, i, 
217 : the infanta is buried at the foot of the 


high altar, Conde Nillo near the church door ; 
a cypress and an orange [pines]. Almeida- 
Garrett, in, No 20, at p. 38 : a sombre clump 
of pines over the knight, reeds from the prin- 
cess's grave, which, though cut down, shoot 
again, and are heard sighing in the night. 
Braga, Archip. A^or., ' Filha Maria,' ' Dom 
Doardos,' ' A Ermida no Mar,' Nos 32, 33, 
34, Hartung, i, 220-224; Estacio da Veiga, 
' Dom Diniz,' p. 64-67, = Hartung, i, 217, 2 : 
tree and pines, olive and pines, clove-tree and 
pine, roses and canes : in all, new miracles fol- 
low the cutting down. So also Almeida-Gar- 
rett, No 6, I, 167. 

Eoumanian. Alecsandri, 7, Stanley, p. 16, 
' Ring and Handkerchief,' translated by Stan- 
ley, p. 193, Murray, p. 56 : a fir and a vine, 
which meet over the church. 

French. Beaurepaire, Po^sie pop. en Nor- 
mandie, p. 51 : a thorn and an olive 'die planted 
over the graves ; the thorn embraces the olive. 

Romaic. Passow, Nos 414, 415, 456, 469 ; 
Zambelios, p. 754, No 41 ; Tommaseo, Canti 
Popolari, ni, 135 ; Chasiotis, p. 103, No 22 : 
a cypress from the man's grave, a reed from 
the maid's (or from a common tomb) ; re- 
versed in Passow, Nos 418, 470, and Schmidt, 
Griechische Marchen, u. s. w., No 59, p. 203. 
Sakellarios, p. 25, No 9, cypress and apple- 
tree ; p. 38, No 13, cypress and lemon-tree. 
(F. Liebrecht, Zur Volkskunde, pp. 166, 168, 
182, 183.) 

Servian. Talvj, V. L. der Serben, ii, p. 
85 : a fir and a rose ; the rose twines round 
the fir. 

Wend. Haupt and Schmaler, V. L. der 
Wenden, ll, No 48 : a maid, who kills her- 
self on account of the death of her lover, or- 
ders two grape vines to be planted over their 
graves : the vines intertwine. 

Breton. Luzel, I, p. 423 : a fleur-de-lis 
springs from a common tomb, and is always 
in flower, however often it is plucked. 

Italo- Albanian. De Rada, Rapsodie d'un 
poema albanese, etc., p. 47 : the youth comes 
up (nacque) a cypress ; the maid a white vine, 
which clings around the tree. Camarda, Ap- 
pendice al saggio di grammatologia comparata, 
' Angelina,' p. 112, the same ; but inappropri- 



ately, as Liebrecht has remarked, fidelity in 
love being wanting in this case. 

Magyar. The lovers are buried before and 
behind the altar ; white and red lilies spring 
from the tombs ; mother or father destroys 
or attempts to destroy the plants : Aigner, 
Ungarische Volksdichtungen, 2d ed., at p. 92, 
p. 138, 131 f. Again, at p. 160, of the ' Two 
Princes ' (Hero and Leander) : here a white 
and a red tulip are planted over the graves, in 
a garden, and it is expressly said that the souls 
of the enamored pair passed into the tulips. 
In the first piece the miracle occurs twice. 
The lovers had thrown themselves into a deep 
lake; plants rose above the surface of the 
water and intertwined (p. 91) ; the bodies 
were brought up by divers and buried in the 
church, where the marvel was repeated. 

Afghan. Audam and Doorkhaunee, a poem 
" read, repeated, and sung, through all parts 
of the country," Elphinstone's Account of the 
Kingdom of Caubul, 1815, p. 185 f : two trees 
spring from their remains, and the branches 
mingle over their tomb. First cited by Talvj, 
Versuch, p. 140. 

Kurd. Mem and Zin, a poem of Ahm^d 
Xani, died 1652-3 : two rose bushes spring 
from their graves and interlock. Bulletin de 
la classe des sciences historiques, etc., de I'acad. 
impdr. des sciences de St. Pet., tome xv, No 
11, p. 170. 

The idea of the love-animated plants has 
been thought to be derived from the romance 
of Tristan, where it also occurs ; agreeably to a 
general principle, somewhat hastily assumed, 
that when romances and popular ballads have 
anything in common, priority belongs to the 
romances. The question as to precedence in 
this instance is an open one, for the fundamen- 
tal conception is not less a favorite with an- 
cient Greek than with mediaeval imagination. 

Tristan and Isolde had unwittingly drunk 
of a magical potion which had the power to 
induce an indestructible and ever-increasing 
love. Tristan died of a wound received in one 

* Et de la tombe de monseigneur Tristan yssoit une ronce 
belle et verte et bien feuilleue, qui alloit par dessus la cha- 
pelle, et descendoit le bout de la roDce stir la tombe de la 
royne Ysealt, et entroit dedans. La virent les gens du pays 

of his adventures, and Isolde of a broken 
heart, because, though summoned to his aid, 
she arrived too late for him to profit by her 
medical skill. They were buried in the same 
church. According to the French prose ro- 
mance, a green brier issued from Tristan's 
tomb, mounted to the roof, and, descending 
to Isolde's tomb, made its way within. King 
Marc caused the brier to be cut down three 
several times, but the morning after it was as 
flourishing as before.* 

Eilhart von Oberge, vv. 9509-21 (ed. Lich- 
tenstein, Quellen u. Forschungen, xix, 429) 
and the German prose romance (Busching u. 
von der Hagen, Buch der Liebe, c. 60), Ul- 
rich von Thiirheim, vv. 3546-50, and Heinrich 
von Freiberg, vv. 6819-41 (in von der Hagen's 
ed. of G. V. Strassburg's Tristan) make King 
Marc plants the first two a grape-vine over 
Tristan and a rose over Isolde, the others, 
wrongly, the rose over Tristan and the vine 
over Isolde. These plants, according to Hein- 
rich, struck their roots into the hearts of the 
lovers below, while their branches embraced 
above. Icelandic ballads and an Icelandic saga 
represent Tristan's wife as forbidding the lov- 
ers to be buried in the same grave, and order- 
ing them to be buried on opposite sides of the 
church. Trees spring from their bodies and 
meet over the church roof. (Islenzk Forn- 
kvseSi, 23 A, B, C, D ; Saga af Tristram ok 
Isond, Brynjulfson, p. 199 ; Tristrams Saga ok 
Isondar, Kolbing, p. 112). The later Titurel 
imitates the conclusion of Tristan. (Der jUn- 
gere Titurel, ed. Hahn, sts 5789, 5790.) 

Among the miracles of the Virgin there are 
several which are closely akin to the prodigies 
already noted. A lily is found growing from 
the mouth of a clerk, who, though not leading 
an exemplary life, had every day said his ave 
before the image of Mary : Unger, Mariu Saga, 
No 50 ; Berceo, No 3 ; Miracles de N.-D. de 
Chartres, p. Ixiii, No 29, and p. 239 ; Ma- 
rien-legenden (Stuttgart, 1846), No xi and 
p. 269. A rose springs from the grave and 

et la eompt^rent au roy Marc. Le roy la fist couper par 
troys foys, et quant il I'avoit le jour fait couper, le lendemain 
estoit aussi belle comme avoit aultro fois est^. Fol. cxxiv, 
as cited by Braga, Bom. Ger., p. 185. 



roots in the heart of a knight who had spared 
the honor of a maid because her name was 
Mary : Unger, No clvi, Hagen's Gesamrat- 
abenteuer, Ixxiii. Roses inscribed Maria grow 
from the mouth, eyes, and ears of a monk : 
Unger, cxxxvii ; and a lily grows over a monk's 
grave, springing from his mouth, every leaf 
of which bears Ave Maria in golden letters : 
Unger, cxxxviii ; Gesammtabenteuer, Ixxxviii ; 
Libro de Exenplos, Romania, 1878, p. 509, 43, 
44 ; etc., etc. 

No one can fail to be reminded of the pur- 
ple, lily-shaped flower, inscribed with the 
mournful AI AI, that rose from the blood of 
Hyacinthus, and of the other from the blood 
of Ajax, with the same letters, " his name and 
eke his plaint," haec nominis, ilia querellge. 
(Ovid, Met. x, 210 £E; xiii, 394 fP.) The 
northern lindens have their counterpart in the 
elms from the grave of Protesilaus, and in the 
trees into which Philemon and Baucis were 
transformed. See, upon the whole subject, the 
essay of Koberstein in the Weimar Jahrbuch, 
I, .73 £E, with Kohler's supplement, p. 479 ff; 
Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, n, 689 f, and 
m, 246. 

" The ballad of the ' Douglas Tragedy,' " 
says Scott, " is one of the few to which pop- 
ular tradition has ascribed complete locality. 
The farm of Blackhouse, in Selkirkshire, is 
said to have been the scene of this melancholy 
event. There are the remains of a veiy an- 

cient tower, adjacent to the farm-house, in a 
wild and solitary glen, upon a torrent named 
Douglas burn, which joins the Yarrow after 
passing a craggy rock called the Douglas 
craig. . . . From this ancient tower Lady 
Margaret is said to have been carried by her 
lover. Seven large stones, erected upon the 
neighboring heights of Blackhouse, are shown, 
as marking the spot where the seven brethren 
were slain ; and the Douglas burn is averred 
to have been the stream at which the lovers 
stopped to drink : so minute is tradition in 
ascertaining the scene of a tragical tale, which, 
considering the rude state of former times, 
had probably foundation in some real event." 

The localities of the Danish story were as- 
certained, to her entire satisfaction, by Anne 
Krabbe in 1605-6, and are given again in Re- 
sen's Atlas Danicus, 1677. See Grundtvig, 
II, 342 f. 

B, Scott's ' Douglas Tragedy,' is translated 
by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folke- 
viser. No 11 ; Afzelius, in, 86 ; Schubart, p. 
159 ; Talvj, p. 565 ; Wolff, Halle, i, 76, Haus- 
schatz, p. 201 ; Rosa Warrens, No 23 ; Ger- 
hard, p. 28 ; Loeve Veimars, p. 292. 

' Ribold og Guldborg,' Danish B, is translated 
by Buchanan, p. 16 (loosely) ; G by Jamie- 
son, Illustrations, p. 317, and Prior, ii, 400 ; 
T by Prior, II, 407 ; Swedish A, For. Quart. 
Rev., XXV, 41. ' Hildebrand og Hilde,' Dan- 
ish A, B, F, H, by Prior, n, 411-20. 

a, b, from the papers of the late Robert White, Esq., of 
Newcastle-on-Tyne : c, R. Bell, Ancient Poems, Ballads, etc. 
(1857), p. 122 : d, fragmentary lines as remembered by Mrs 
Andrews, Mr White's sister, from her mother's singing. 

1 Oh did ye ever hear o brave Earl Bran? 

Ay lally, o liUy lally 
He courted the king's daughter of fair Eng- 
All i the night sae early 

2 She was scarcely fifteen years of age 
TiU sae boldly she came to his bedside. 

3 ' Earl Bran, fain wad I see 

A pack of hounds let loose on the lea.' 

4 ' O lady, I have no steeds but one, 
And thou shalt ride, and I will run.' 

5 ' O Earl Bran, my father has two, 
And thou.shaU have the best o them a.' 

6 They have ridden oer moss and moor, 
And they met neither rich nor poor. 

7 Until they met with old Carl Hood ; 
He comes for ill, but never for good. 



8 * Earl Bran, if ye love me, 

Seize this old carl, and gar him die.' 

9 ' lady fair, it wad be sair, 

To slay an old man that has grey hair. 

10 * O lady fair, I '11 no do sae ; 

I 'U gie him a pound, and let him gae.' 

11 ' O where hae ye ridden this lee lang day ? 
Or where hae ye stolen this lady away ? ' 

12 ' I have not ridden this lee lang day. 
Nor yet have I stolen this lady away. 

13 ' She is my only, my sick sister. 
Whom I have brought from Winchester.' 

14 ' If she be sick, and like to dead. 
Why wears she the ribbon sae red ? 

15 ' If she be sick, and like to die, 

Then why wears she the gold on high ? ' 

16 When he came to this lady's gate, 
Sae rudely as he rapped at it. 

17 * where 's the lady o this ha ? ' 

' She 's out with her maids to play at the ba.' 

18 ' Ha, ha, ha ! ye are a' mistaen : 
Gae count your maidens oer again. 

19 ' I saw her far beyond the moor, 
Away to be the Earl o Bran's whore.' 

20 The father armed fifteen of his best men, 
To bring his daughter back again. 

21 Oer her left shoulder the lady looked then : 
' O Earl Bran, we both are tane.' 

22 ' If they come on me ane by ane, 
Ye may stand by and see them slain. 

23 ' But if they come on me one and all, 
Ye may stand by and see me faU.' 

24 They have come on him ane by ane, 
And he has killed them all but ane. 

25 And that ane came behind his back, 
And he 's gien him a deadly whack. 

26 But for a' sae wounded as Earl Bran was. 
He has set his lady on her horse. 

27 They rode till they came to the water o Doune, 
And then he alighted to wash his wounds. 

28 * Earl Bran, I see your heart's blood ! ' 
' T is but the gleat o my scarlet hood.' 

29 They rode till they came to his mother's gate, 
And sae rudely as he rapped at it. 

30 ' my son 's slain, my son 's put down, 
And a' for the sake of an English loun.' 

31 ' say not sae, my dear mother, 

But marry her to my youngest brother. 

* * * # # 

32 * This has not been the death o ane. 
But it 's been that of fair seventeen.' 


Scott's Minstrelsy, iii, 246, ed. 1803; iii, 6, ed. 1833 : the 
copy principally used supplied by Mr Sharpe, the three last 
stanzas from a penny pamphlet and from tradition. 

1 ' Rlse up, rise up, now. Lord Douglas,' she says, 

' And put on your armour so bright ; 
Let it never be said that a daughter of thine 
Was married to a lord under night. 

2 ' Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons. 

And put on your armour so bright. 

And take better care of your youngest sister, 
For your eldest 's awa the last night.' 

3 He 's mounted her on a milk-white steed. 

And himself on a dapple grey. 
With a bugelet horn hung down by his side, 
And lightly they rode away. 

4 Lord William lookit oer his left shoulder, 

To see what he could see. 
And there he spy'd her seven brethren bold. 
Come riding over the lee. 



5 * Light down, light down, Lady Margret,' he 

* And hold my steed in your hand, 
Until that against your seven brethren bold. 
And your father, I mak a stand.' 

6 She held his steed in her milk-white hand. 

And never shed one tear. 
Until that she saw her seven brethren fa. 
And her father hard fighting, who lovd her 
so dear. 

7 * hold your hand. Lord William ! ' she said, 

' For your strokes they are wondrous sair ; 
True lovers I can get many a ane, 
But a father I can never get mair.' 

8 she 's taen out her handkerchief, 

It was o the holland sae fine, 
And aye she dighted her father's bloody 
That were redder than the wine. 

9 ' O chuse, chuse. Lady Margret,' he said, 

' O whether wiU ye gang or bide ? ' 
' I 'U gang, I '11 gang. Lord WUliam,' she said, 
' For ye have left me no other guide.' 

10 He 's lifted her on a milk-white steed. 

And himself on a dapple grey. 
With a bugelet horn hung down by his side. 
And slowly they baith rade away. 

11 they rade on, and on they rade. 

And a' by the light of the moon, 
UntU they came to yon wan water. 
And there they lighted down. 

12 They lighted down to tak a drink 

Of the spring that ran sae clear. 
And down the stream ran his gude heart's blood, 
And sair she gan to fear. 

13 ' Hold up, hold up. Lord William,' she says, 

' For I fear that you are slain ; ' 
' 'T is naething but the shadow of my scarlet 
That shines in the water sae plain.' 

14 they rade on, and on they rade. 

And a' by the light of the moon. 
Until they cam to his mother's ha door. 
And there they lighted down. 

15 ' Get up, get up, lady mother,' he says, 

' Get up, and let me in ! 
Get up, get up, lady mother,' he says, 
' For this night my fair lady I 've win. 

16 ' O mak my bed, lady mother,' he says, 

' mak it braid and deep. 
And lay Lady Margret close at my back. 
And the sounder I will sleep.' 

17 Lord William was dead lang ere midnight, 

Lady Margret lang ere day, 
And all true lovers that go thegither. 
May they have mair luck than they ! 

18 Lord William was buried in St. Mary's 

Lady Margret in Mary's quire ; 
Out o the lady's grave grew a bonny red rose, 
And out o the knight's a briar. 

19 And they twa met, and they twa plat, 

And fain they wad be near ; 
And a' the warld might ken right weel 
They were twa lovers dear. 

20 But bye and rade the Black Douglas, 

And wow but he was rough ! 
For he pulld up the bonny brier. 
And flang 't in St. Mary's Loch. 

Motherwell's MS., p. 

502. From the recitation of Mrs 

1 ' Rise up, rise up, my seven brave sons. 
And dress in your armour so bright ; 
Earl Douglas wiU hae Lady Margaret awa 
Before that it be light. 

2 ' Arise, arise, my seven brave sons. 

And dress in your armour so bright ; 
It shall never be said that a daughter of 
Shall go with an earl or a knight.' 

3 ' O will ye stand, fair Margaret,' he says, 

' And hold my milk-white steed, 



Till I fight your father and seven brethren, 
In yonder pleasant mead ? ' 

4 She stood and held his milk-white steed, 

She stood trembling with fear, 
Until she saw her seven brethren fall. 
And her father that loved her dear. 

5 ' Hold your hand, Earl Douglas,' she says, 

' Your strokes are wonderous sair ; 
I may get sweethearts again enew, 
But a father I '11 ne'er get mair.' 

6 She took out a handkerchief 

Was made o' the cambrick fine. 
And aye she wiped her father's bloody wounds. 
And the blood sprung up like wine. 

7 * Will ye go, fair Margaret ? ' he said, 

' Win ye now go, or bide ? ' 
'Yes, I'll go, sweet William,' she said, 
* For ye 've left me never a guide. 

8 ' If I were to go to my mother's house, 

A welcome guest I would be ; 
But for the bloody deed that 's done this day 
I 'U rather go with thee.' 

9 He lifted her on a milk-white steed 

And himself on a dapple gray ; 
They drew their hats out over their face. 
And they both went weeping away. 

10 They rode, they rode, and they better rode. 

Till they came to yon water wan ; 
They lighted down to gie their horse a drink 
Out of the running stream. 

11 ' I am afraid. Earl Douglas,' she said, 

' I am afraid ye are slain ; ' 

I think I see your bonny heart's blood 
Running down the water wan.' 

12 ' Oh no, oh no, fair Margaret,' he said, 

' Oh no, I am not slain ; 
It is but the scad of my scarlet cloak 
Runs down the water wan.' 

13 He mounted her on a milk-white steed 

And himself on a dapple gray. 
And they have reached Earl Douglas' gates 
Before the break of day. 

14 ' rise, dear mother, and make my bed. 

And make it braid and wide, 
And lay me down to take my rest, 
And at my back my bride.' 

15 She has risen and made his bed. 

She made it braid and wide ; 
She laid him down to take his rest, 
And at his back his bride. 

16 Lord William died ere it was day, 

Lady Margaret on the morrow ; 
Lord William died through loss of blood and 
Fair Margaret died with sorrow. 

17 The one was buried in Mary's kirk, 

The other in Mary's quire ; 

The one sprung up a bonnie bush. 

And the other a bonny brier. 

18 These twa grew, and these twa threw, 

TiU they came to the top. 
And when they could na farther gae, 
They coost the lovers' knot. 

Kinloch MSS, i, 327. 

1 * Sleepst thou or wakst thou. Lord Montgom- 


Sleepst thou or wakst thou, I say ? 
Rise up, make a match for your eldest daugh- 

For the youngest I carry away.' 

2 ' Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons, 

Dress yourselves in the armour sae fine ; 

For it ne'er shall be said that a churlish knight 
Eer married a daughter of mine.' 
* # * * * 

3 ' Loup aff, loup a£E, Lady Margaret,' he said, 

' And hold my steed in your hand. 

And I will go fight your seven brethren, 

And your father, where they stand.' 

4 Sometimes she gaed, sometimes she stood. 

But never dropt a tear. 
Until she saw her brethren all slain. 
And her father who lovd her so dear. 



5 * Hold thy hand, sweet William,' she says, 

' Thy blows are wondrous sore ; 
Sweethearts I may have many a one, 
But a father I '11 never have more.' 

6 O she 's taken her napkin frae her pocket, 

Was made o the holland fine. 
And ay as she dichted her father's bloody 
They sprang as red as the wine. 

7 'Two chooses, two chooses, Lady Margret,' 

he says, 
' Two chooses I '11 make thee ; 
Whether to go back to your mother again, 
Or go along with me.' 

8 ' For to go home to my mother again, 

An imwelcome guest I 'd be ; 
But since my fate has ordered it so, 
I '11 go along with thee.' 


Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 180. From recitation. 

1 He has lookit over his left shoulder, 

And through his bonnie bridle rein. 
And he spy'd her father and her seven bold 
Come riding down the glen. 

2 ' O hold my horse, Lady Margret,' he said, 

O hold my horse by the bonnie bridle rein, 
TiU I fight your father and seven bold breth- 
As they come riding down the glen.' 

3 Some time she rade, and some time she gaed, 

Till she that place did near, 

9 He has mounted her on a milk-white steed. 
Himself on the dapple gray. 
And blawn his horn baith loud and shill, 
And it sounded far on their way. 

10 They rode oer hill, they rode oer dale, 

They rode oer mountains so high. 
Until they came to that beautiful place 
Where Sir William's mother did lie. 

11 ' Rise up, rise up, lady mother,' he said, 

' Rise up, and make much o your own ; 
Rise up, rise up, lady mother,' he said, 
' For his bride 's just new come home.' 

12 Sir WiUiam he died in the middle o the night, 

Lady Margaret died on the morrow ; 
Sir William he died of pure pure love, 
Lady Margaret of grief and sorrow. 

And there she spy'd her seven bold brethren 
And her father who loved her so dear. 

4 ' hold your hand, sweet William,' she said, 

' Your bull baits are wondrous sair ; 
Sweet-hearts I may get many a one. 
But a father I will never get mair.' 

5 She has taken a napkin from off her neck, 

That was of the cambrick so fine. 
And aye as she wiped her father's bloody 
The blood ran red as the wine. 

6 He set her upon the milk-white steed. 

Himself upon the brown ; 
He took a horn out of his pocket, 
And they both went weeping along. 

Percy MS., p. 57 ; ed. Hales and Fumivall, i, 133. 

Sayes ' Christ thee saue, good Child of Ell ! 
Christ saue thee and thy steede ! 

2 ' My father sayes he will [eat] noe meate, 

Nor his drinke shall doe him noe good, 
Till he haue slaine the Child of Ell, 
And haue seene his harts blood.' 

3 ' I wold I were in my sadle sett. 

And a mile out of the towne ; 



I did not caxe for your father 
And all liis merry men ! 

4 ' I wold I were in my sadle sett, 

And a little space him froe ; 
I did not care for yowr father 
And all that long him to ! ' 

5 He leaned ore his saddle bow 

To kisse this lady good ; ^ 
The teares that went them two betweene 
Were blend water and blood. 

6 He sett himselfe on one good steed, 

This lady on a palfray. 
And sett his litle home to his mouth. 
And roimdlie he rode away. 

7 He had not ridden past a mile, 

A mile out of the towne, 

8 Her father was readye wtth her seuen brether. 

He said, ' Sett thou my daughter downe ! 
For it ill beseemes thee, thou false churles 
To carry her forth of this towne ! ' 

9 ' But lowd thou lyest. Sir lohn the liniffht, 

Thou now doest lye of me ; 
A knight me gott, and a lady me bore ; 
Soe neuer did none by thee. 

10 ' But light now downe, my lady gay, 

Light downe and hold my horsse, 
Wlulest I and yowr father and yoMr brether 
Doe play vs at this crosse. 

11 ' But light now downe, my owne trew loue, 

And meeklye hold my steede, 
Whilest youT father [and your setten brether] 

a, b. Obtained from recitation " many years 
ago" wrote Mr White in 1873, hy Jam,es Tel- 
fer, of Laughtree Liddesdale, in some part of 
the neighboring country : the copy has the date 
1818. c is said hy the editor to have been taken 
down from the recitation of an old fiddler in 
Northumberland, but when and by whom he 
does not tell us. The three are clearly more 
or less " corrected " copies of the sam^ original, 
c having suffered most from arbitrary changes. 
Alterations for rhyme's sake, or for propriety's, 
that are written above the lines or in the mxir- 
gin of a. 2, 5, 8, 19, are adopted in c without 

Burden, b. I the brave night sae early : c. I 
the brave nights so early : d. I (or O) the 
life o the one, the randy. 
1^. c. Brand, and always in c. 1^. a. daugh- 
ters, b. He 's courted. 
2\ c. years that tide ; that tide is written 

over of age in a. 2'\ c. When sae. 
42. c. But thou. 
5^. b. best o these, c. best of tho. of tho 

is written over o them a in a. 
6^^. b, c. have met. 

7\ c. Till at last they met. 7^ c. He 's aye for 
ill and never. 

8^ b. Earl Bran, c. Now Earl Brand. Now 

in the margin of a. 8^. b, c. Slay this. 
9^. b. man that wears, c. carl that wears, carl 

. . wears written over man . . has in a. 
10. b. O lady fair, I '11 no do that, 

I 'n pay him penny, let him be jobbing 
c. My own lady fair, I '11 not do that, 
I '11 pay him his fee 
11^. b. where have stoln this fair. c. And 

where have ye stown this fair. 
13. b. She is my sick sister. 

Which I newly brought from Winches- 
c. For she is, I trow, my sick sister. 

Whom I have been bringing fra Win- 
14^. c. nigh to dead. ^. b, c. What makes her 

15^. c. If she 's been. ^. b, c. What makes her 

wear the gold sae high. 
16^. c. When came the carl to the lady's yett. 
^ b. rapped at. c. He rudely, rudely rapped 
17^. b. maids playen. c. a playing, d. She 's 
out with the fair maids playing at the ball. 



18^. b. mistkane ( ?) : ^. b, c. Ye may count, 
b^ young Earl. 

19. c. I met her far beyond the lea 

With the young Earl Brand, his leman 

to be : 
In a lea is written over moor, and 

With the young, etc., stands as a 

" correction." 

20. b. Her father, etc., 

And they have riden after them. 

c. Her father of his best men armed fif- 

And they 're ridden after them bi- 
21\ b, c. The lady looket [looked] over 

[owre] her left shoulder then. 
22*. b, c. If they come on me one by one, 
\ b. Ye may stand by and see them fall, 
o. You may stand by till the fights be 

d. Then I will slay them every one. 
23^ b. all in aU. d. aU and all. 

'. d. Then you will see me the sooner fall. 
24*. b. has slain. 

24. c. They came upon him one by one, 

Till fourteen battles he has won. 
And fourteen men he has them slain, 
Each after each upon the plain. 

25. c. But the fifteenth man behind stole 

And dealt him a deep and a deadly 

26. c. Though he was wounded to the deid. 

He set his lady on her steed. 
27*. c. river Doune : ^. b. And he lighted 
down. o. And there they lighted to wash 
his wound. 
28*^. b. It 's but the glent. 

c. It 's nothing but the glent and my scar- 
let hood. 
29*. c. yett. 
29^*. b. Sae ruddly as he rappet at. 

.c. So faint and feebly he rapped thereat. 
30*. b. O my son 's slain and cut down. 

c. my son 's slain, he is falling to swoon. 

32. b. . . . death of only one. 

But it 's been the death of fair seventeen. 
Instead of 32, c Jias : 

To a maiden true he 'U give his hand. 
To the king's daughter o fair England, 
To a prize that was won by a slain brother's 

B. 3. A stanza resembling this is found in Beau- 

mont and Fletcher's ^Knight of the Burning 
Pestle' (1611), Dyce, ii, 172, but may belong 
to some other ballad, as ' The Knight and Shep- 
herd's Daughter : ' 

He set her on a milk-white steed, 

And himself upon a grey ; 
He never turned his face again, 

But he bore her quite away. 

8*. ware. 18*. Marie. 20*. flang'd. 

C. 123. MS. scad. 

D. 10. The following stanza, superscribed " Mrs 
Lindores, Kelso," was found among Mr Kin- 
loc¥s papers, and was inserted at i, 331, of 
the Kinlock MSS. It mag be a first recollec- 
tion of D 10, but is more likely to be another 
version : 

' We raid over hill and we raid over dale. 
And we raid over moimtains sae high. 

Until we cam in sicht o yon bonnie castle 
Whare Sir William Arthur did lie.' 

B. 5-6. " Two stanzas are here omitted, in which 
Lord William offers her the choice of return- 
ing to her mother, or of accompanying him ; 
and the ballad concludes with this [the Qth^ 
stanza, which is twice repeated in singing." 
Motherwell's preface. 

P. 3*. MS. merrymen. 
6^. of one palfray. 

7, 8 are written in one stanza. Half a page, 
or about nine stanzas, is gone after st. 11. 




A. * Erlinton,' Scott's Minstrelsy, iii, 235, ed. 1808. 

B. ' True Tammas,' Mr R. White's papers. 

C. ' Robin Hood and the Tanner's Daughter,' Gutch's 
Robin Hood, ii, 345. 

* Erlinton ' (A) first appeared in the Min- 
strelsy of the Scottish Border, the text formed 
" from the collation of two copies obtained 
from recitation." B is a manuscript copy, 
furnished by the late Mr Robert White of 
Newcastle, and was probably taken down from 
recitation by Mr James Telfer early in the 
century. C, in which Robin Hood has taken 
the place of a hero who had at least connec- 
tions out of Great Britain, was first printed 
in Gutch's Robin Hood, from a manuscript of 
Mr Payne Collier, supposed to have been 
written about 1650. 

This ballad has only with much hesitation 
been separated from the foregoing. In this as 
in that, a man induces a maid to go off with 
him ; he is set upon by a party of fifteen in 
A, B, as in 7 A ; and he spares the life of one 
of his assailants [an old man, A, B, the younger 
brother, C]. Some agreements as to details 
with Scandinavian Ribold ballads have already 
been noticed, and it has been observed that 
while there is no vestige of the dead-naming 
in ' Earl Brand,' there is an obvious trace of 
it in ' Erlinton ' A, B. ' Erlinton ' A, B has 
also one other correspondence not found in 
' Earl Brand,' — the strict watch kept over 
the lady (st. 2). Even the bigly bower, ex- 
pressly built to confine her in, is very likely a 
reminiscence or a displacement of the tower 
in which Hilde is shut up, after her elope- 
ment, in some of the Scandinavian ballads 
(Danish 83 A, B ; Swedish A, dark house). 
But notwithstanding these resemblances to 
the Ribold story, there is a difference in the 
larger part of the details, and all the ' Erlin- 
ton ' ballads have a fortunate conclusion, which 
also does not seem forced, as it does in Arwids- 
son, 107, the only instance, perhaps, in which 

a fortunate conclusion in a Ribold ballad is of 
the least account ; for Grundtvig's F, G are 
manifestly copies that have been tampered 
with, and Landstad 34 is greatly confused at 
the close. It may be an absolute accident, 
but ' Erlinton ' A, B has at least one point of 
contact with the story of Walter of Aqui- 
tania which is not found in . ' Earl Brand.' 
This story requires to be given in brief on ac- 
count of its kinship to both. 

Walter, with his betrothed Hildegunde, fly 
from the court of Attila, at which they have 
both lived as hostages since their childhood, 
taking with them two boxes of jewels. Gun- 
ther, king of Worms, learns that a knight and 
lady, with a richly-laden horse, have passed the 
Rhine, and sets out in pursuit, with twelve of 
his best fighting men, resolved to capture the 
treasure. The fugitives, after a very long 
ride, make a halt in a forest, and Walter 
goes to sleep with his head on Hildegunde's 
knees. The lady meanwhile keeps watch, and 
rouses her lover when she perceives by the 
dust they raise that horsemen are approach- 
ing. Gunther sends one of his knights with a 
message demanding the surrender of the treas- 
ure. Walter scornfully refuses, but expresses 
a willingness to make the king a present of a 
hundred bracelets, or rings, of red gold, in 
token of his respect. The messenger is sent 
back with directions to take the treasure by 
force, if it should be refused again. Walter, 
having vainly offered a present of two hundred 
bracelets to avoid a conflict, is attacked by the 
knight, whom he slays. Ten others go the 
way of this first, and only the king and one of 
his troop, Hagen, a very distinguished knight 
and an old comrade of Walter, remain. 
These now attack Walter; the combat is long 



and fierce; all three are seriously wounded, 
and finally so exhausted as to be forced to 
cease fighting. Walter and Hagen enter into 
a friendly talk while refreshing themselves 
with wine, and in the end Gunther * is put on 
a horse and conducted home by Hagen, while 
Walter and Hildegunde continue their jour- 
ney to Aquitania. There they were married 
and ruled thirty happy years. (' Waltharius,' 
ed. R. Peiper, 1873.) 

The particular resemblances of 'Erlinton' 
A, B to 'Walter' are that the assailants are 
*' bold knights," or " bravest outlaws," not the 
lady's kinsmen; that there are two parleys 
before the fight ; and that the hero survives 
the fight and goes off with his love. The ut- 
most that could be insisted on is that some 
features of the story of Walter have been 
blended in the course of tradition with the 

kindred story of Ribold. ' Erlinton ' C is much 
less like ' Walter,' and more like ' Ribold.' 

The ' Sultan's Fair Daughter,' translated 
by Aigner, Ungarische Volksdichtungen, p. 
93, 2d ed., has perhaps derived something 
from the Walter story. Two Magyars escape 
from the Sultan's prison by the aid of his 
daughter, under promise of taking her to Hun- 
gary. She often looks backwards, fearing pur- 
suit. At last a large band overtake them. 
One of the Magyars guards the lady ; the other 
assaults the Turks, of whom he leaves only 
one alive, to carry back information. One of 
the two has a love at home ; the other takes 
the Sultan's daughter. 

' Erlinton ' is translated by Rosa Warrens, 
Schottische Volkslieder, No 24, and by Karl 
Knortz, Schottische Balladen, No 12. 

Scott's Minstrelsy, III, 235, ed. 1803; ed. 1833, ii, 353. 
Made up from two copies obtained from recitation. 

1 Erlinton had a fair daughter ; 

I wat he weird her in a great sin ; 
For he has built a bigly bower, 
An a' to put that lady in. 

2 An he has wamd her sisters six, 

An sae has he her brethren se'en, 
Outher to watch her a' the night, 
Or else to seek her morn an een. 

3 She hadna been i that bigly bower 

Na not a night but barely ane, 
Tin there was WiUie, her ain true love, 
Chappd at the door, cryin ' Peace within ! ' 

4 ' whae is this at my bower door, 

That chaps sae late, nor kens the gin ? ' 
' it is WiUie, yoiu* ain true love, 
I pray you rise an let me in ! ' 

5 ' But in my bower there is a wake, 

An at the wake there is a wane ; 
But I 'U. come to the green-wood the morn, 
Whar blooms the brier, by momin dawn.' 

6 Then she 's gane to her bed again, 

Where she has layen till the cock crt 
Then she said to her sisters a', 

' Maidens, 't is time for us to rise.' 

7 She pat on her back her silken gown, 

An on her breast a siller pin, 
An she 's tane a sister in ilka hand, 
An to the green-wood she is gane. 

8 She hadna walkd in the green-wood 

Na not a mile but barely ane, 
Tin there was Willie, her ain true love, 
Whae frae her sisters has her taen. 

9 He took her sisters by the hand, 

He kissd them baith, an sent them hame, 

* Gunther, as well remarked by Klee, ' Zur Hildesage,' p. 
19, cannot have belonged originally to the Hildegunde saga. 
No sufficient motive is furnished for introducing him. In 
the Polish version of the story there is only one pursuer, 

Arinoldus, whom Walter slays. Rischka, Verhaltniss der 
polnischen Sage von Walgierz Wdaly zu den deutschen 
Sagen von W. v. Aquitauien, p. 8 ff. 



An he 's taen his true love him behind, 

And through the green-wood they are gane. 

10 They hadna ridden in the bonnie green-wood 

Na not a mile but barely ane, 
"When there came fifteen o the boldest knights 
That ever bare flesh, blood, or bane. 

11 The foremost was an aged knight, 

He wore the grey hair on his chin : 
Says, ' Yield to me thy lady bright. 
An thou shalt walk the woods within.' 

12 * For me to yield my lady bright 

To such an aged knight as thee. 
People wad think I war gane mad, 
Or a' the courage flown frae me.' • 

13 But up then spake the second knight, 

I wat he spake right boustouslie : 

* Yield me thy life, or thy lady bright. 

Or here the tane of us shall die.' 

14 ' My lady is my warld's meed ; 

My life I winna yield to nane ; 

But if ye be men of your manhead, 
Ye 'U only fight me ane by ane.' 

15 He lighted aff his milk-white steed. 

An gae his lady liim by the head, 
Sayn, ' See ye dinna change your cheer, 
UntiU ye see my body bleed.' 

16 He set his back unto an aik. 

He set his feet against a stane. 

An he has fought these fifteen men. 

An killd them a' but barely ane. 


For he has left that aged knight, 
An a' to carry the tidings hame. 

18 When he gaed to his lady fair, 
I wat he kissd her tenderlie : 
* Thou art mine ain love, I have thee 
bought ; 
Now we shall walk the green-wood 


MS. of Robert White, Esq., of Newcastle, from James 
Telfer's collection. 

1 There was a knight, an he had a daughter. 

An he wad wed her, wi muckle sin ; 
Sae he has biggit a bonnie bower, love, 
An a' to keep his fair daughter in. 

2 But she hadna been in the bonnie bower, 

And no twa hours but barely ane, 
Till up started Tammas, her ain true lover. 
And sae fain as he wad been in. 

3 ' For a' sae weel as I like ye, Tammas, 

An for a' sae weel as I like the gin, 
I wadna for ten thousand pounds, love, 
Na no this night wad I let thee in. 

4 ' But yonder is a bonnie greenwud, 

An in the greenwud there is a wauk. 
An I '11 be there an sune the mom, love. 
It 's a' for my true love's sake. 

5 ' On my right hand I '11 have a glove, love, 

An on my left ane I 'U have nane ; 
I 'U have wi' me my sisters six, love. 
An we will wauk the wuds our lane.' 

6 They hadna waukd in the bonnie greenwud, 

Na no an hour but barely ane, 
TiU up start Tammas, her ain true lover. 
He 's taen her sisters her frae mang. 

7 An he has kissed her sisters six, love. 

An he has sent them hame again. 
But he has keepit his ain true lover. 

Saying, ' "We will wauk the wuds our lane.' 

8 They hadna waukd in the boniiie greenwud 

Na no an hour but barely ane. 
Till up start fifteen o the bravest outlaws 
That ever bure either breath or bane. 

9 An up bespake the foremost man, love, 

An O but he spake angrily : 
* Either your life — or your lady fair, sir. 
This night shall wauk the wuds wi me.' 



10 * My lady fair, O I like her weel, sir, 

An O my life, but it lies me near ! 
But before I lose my lady fair, sir, 
I 'U rather lose my life sae dear.' 

11 Then up bespak the second man, love. 

An aye he spake mair angrily. 
Saying, ' Baith your life, and your lady fair, 
This night shall wauk the wuds wi me.' 

12 ' My lady fair, O I like her weel, sir, 

An O my life, but it lies me near ! 
But before I lose my lady fair, sir, 
I 'U rather lose my life sae dear. 

13 ' But if ye 'U be men to your manhood, 

As that I will be unto mine. 

I '11 fight ye every ane man by man. 
Till the last drop's blude I hae be slain. 

14 ' sit ye down, my dearest dearie, 

Sit down and hold my noble steed, 
And see that ye never change your cheer 
Until ye see my body bleed.' 

15 He 's feughten a' the fifteen outlaws, 

The fifteen outlaws every ane, 
He 's left naething but the auldest man 
To go and carry the tidings hame. 

16 An he has gane to his dearest dear. 

An he has kissed her, cheek and chin. 
Saying, ' Thou art mine ain, I have bought 
thee dear, 
An we will wauk the wuds our lane.' 


Gatch's Robin Hood, ii, 345, from a MS. of Mr. Payne 
Collier's, supposed to have been written about 1650. 

1 As Robin Hood sat by a tree. 

He espied a prettie may. 
And when she chanced him to see, 
She turnd her head away. 

2 ' feare me not, thou prettie mayde, 

And doe not flie from mee ; 
I am the kindest man,' he said, 
' That ever eye did see.' 

3 Then to her he did doffe his cap, 

And to her lowted low ; 
' To meete with thee I hold it good hap, 
If thou wilt not say noe.' 

4 Then he put his hand around her waste, 

Soe small, so tight, and trim, 
And after sought her lip to taste. 
And she to kissed him. 

5 ' Where dost thou dwell, my prettie maide ? 

I prithee teU to me ; ' 
' I am a tanner's daughter,' she said, 
' John Hobbes of Barneslee.' 

6 ' And whither goest thou, pretty maide ? 

Shall I be thy true love ? ' 

* If thou art not afeard,' she said, 

' My true love thou shalt prove.' 

7 ' What should I feare ? ' then he replied ; 

' I am thy true love now ; ' 

* I have two brethren, and their pride 

Would scorn such one as thou.' 

8 ' That will we try,' quoth Robin Hood ; 

' I was not made their scorne ; 
lie shed my blood to doe the[e] good. 
As sure as they were borne.' 

9 ' My brothers are proude and fierce and strong ; ' 

' I am,' said he, * the same, 
And if they offer thee to wrong, 
Theyle finde He play their game. 

10 ' Through the free forrest I can run, 

The king may not controll ; 
They are but barking tanners' sons, 
To me they shall pay toll. 

11 ' And if not mine be sheepe and kine, 

I have cattle on my land; 
On venison eche day I may dine. 
Whiles they have none in hand.' 

12 These wordes had Robin Hood scarce spoke, 

When they two men did see, 
Come riding till their horses smoke : 
' My brothers both,' cried shee. 



13 Each had a good sword by his side, 

And furiouslie they rode 
To where they Robin Hood espied, 
That with the maiden stood. 

14 * Flee hence, flee hence, away with speede ! ' 

Cried she to Robin Hood, 
' For if thou stay, thoult surely bleede ; 
I could not see thy blood.' 

15 ' With us, false maiden, come away, 

And leave that outlawe bolde ; 
Why fledst thou from thy home this day. 
And left thy father olde ? ' 

16 Robin stept backe but paces five, 

Unto a sturdie tree ; 
' He fight whiles I am left alive ; 
Stay thou, sweete maide, with mee.' 

17 He stood before, she stoode behinde, 

The brothers two drewe nie ; 
' Our sister now to us resign. 
Or thou full sure shalt die.' 

18 Then cried the maide, ' My brethren deare. 

With ye He freely wend. 
But harm not this young forrester, 
Noe ill doth he pretend.' 

19 ' Stande up, sweete maide, I plight my troth ; 

FaU thou not on thy knee ; 
He force thy crueU brothers both 
To bend the knee to thee. 

20 ' Stand thou behinde this sturdie oke, 

I soone will quell their pride ; 
Thoult see my sword with furie smoke. 
And in their hearts' blood died.' 

21 He set his backe against a tree. 

His foote against a stone ; 
The first blow that he gave so free 
Cleft one man to the bone. 

22 The tanners bold they fought right well. 

And it was one to two ; 

But Robin did them both refell, 
AU in the damseU's viewe. 

23 The red blood ran fi'om Robins brow. 

All downe unto his knee ; 
' O holde your handes, my brethren now, 
I win goe backe with yee.' 

24 ' Stand backe, stand backe, my pretty maide, 

Stand backe and let me fight ; 
By sweete St. James be no[t] afraide 
But I will it requite.' 

25 Then Robin did his sword uplift, 

And let it f aU againe ; 
The oldest brothers head it cleft. 
Right through unto his braine. 

26 ' O hold thy hand, bolde forrester, 

Or iU may thee betide ; 
Slay not my youngest brother here, 
He is my father's pride.' 

27 ' Away, for I would scorne to owe. 

My life to the[e], false maide ! ' 
The youngest cried, and aimd a blow 
That lit on Robin's head. 

28 Then Robin leand against the tree, 

His life nie gone did seeme ; 
His eyes did swim, he could not see 
The maiden start betweene. 

29 It was not long ere Robin Hood 

Could welde his sword so bright ; 
Upon his feete he firmly stood. 
And did renew the fight. 

30 UntiU the tanner scarce could heave 

His weapon in the aire ; 
But Robin would not him bereave 
Of life, and left him there. 

31 Then to the greenewood did he fly, 

And with him went the maide ; 
For him she vowd that she would dye. 
He 'd live for her, he said. 

A. 42. Ed. 1833 has or kens. 

B. 1^. If A. 1^ be right, gross injustice is done the 
father by changing I wat he weird her into he 

wad wed her. One of the two is a singular 


There is another copy of B among Mr White's 



papers, with the title ' Sir Thamas,' which 
I have no doubt has been " revised" whether 
by Telfer, or by Mr White himself, it is irrv- 
possible to say. The principal variations 
are here given, that others may be satisfied. 
1\ wed her mang his ain kin. 1*. this fair. 
2*. Till up cam Thamas her only true love. 
3*. tirl nae langer at the pin. 3*. I wadna 

for a hundred pounds, love. 3*. can I. 
4^. fu soon. 4*. And by oursels we twa can 

5^'\ I 'U hae a glove on my right hand, love, 

And on my left I shall hae nane. 
6*^. Beyond an hour, or scarcely twa. 

When up rode Thamas, her only true love. 
And he has tane her frae mang them a'. 
7\ He kissed her sisters, a' the six, love. 7^ 
his winsome true love. 7*. That they might 
8^. didna walk. 

8^*. Beyond two hours, or barely three, 
TUl up cam seven * stalwart outlaws, 
The bauldest fellows that ane could see. 

♦ " The original ballad had fifteen. Seven would do as 
well, and the latter number would seem more nearly to re- 
semble the truth." 

9^ We '11 take your life, for this lady fair, sir. 
10^. My lady 's fair, I like her weel, sir. 
11^*. And he spak still mair furiously ; 

' Flee, or we 'U kiU ye, because your lady. 

12. ' My lady fair, I shall part na frae thee, 

And for my Uf e, I did never fear ; 
Sae before I lose my winsome lady. 
My life I '11 venture for ane sae dear. 

13. ' But if ye 're a' true to your manhood, 

As I shall try to be true to mine, 
I '11 fight ye a', come man by man then, 
TiU the last drop o my bloud I tine.' 
14*. my bridled steed. 14^. And mind ye never 
change your colour. 

15. He fought against the seven outlaws. 

And he has beat them a' himsel ; 
But he left the auldest man amang them 
That he might gae and the tidings tell. 

16. Then he has gane to his dearest dearie. 

And he has kissed her oer and oer ; 
' Though thou art mine, I hae bought thee 
Now we shall sunder never more.' 

C. 1^. Robinhood, and so always. 

31. After this : Finis, T. Fleming. 



A. a. Deloney's ' Jack of Newbury,' reprint of 1859, 
p. 61. b. ' The Ungrateful Knight and the Fair 
Flower of Northumberland,' Ritson's Ancient Songs, 
1790, p. 169. 

B. a. Kinloch MSS, v, 49. b. ' The Provost's Doch- 
ter,' Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 131. 

C. ' The Betrayed Lady.' a. Buchan's MSS, ii, 166. 
b. Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, ii, 


D. Motherwell's MS., p. 102. 

E. ' The Flower of Northumberland,' Mr Robert White's 

The earliest copy of this ballad is intro- 
duced as ' The Maidens' Song,' f in Deloney's 
Pleasant History of John Winchcomb, in his 
younger yeares called Jacke of Newberie, a 
book written as early as 1597. Mr Haliiwell 
reprinted the " 9th" edition, of the date 1638, ij: 

t " Two of them singing the dittie," says Deloney, 
all the rest bearing the burden." 

in 1859, and the ballad is found at p. 61 of the 
reprint (A). The copy in Ritson's Ancient 
Songs, 1790, p. 169, has a few variations, 
which are probably to be explained by Rit- 
son having used some other edition of De- 
loney. Ritson's text is used in The Border- 

' and J The earliest edition now known to exist is of 1619. 



er's Table Book, vi, 25, and was taken thence 
into Sheldon's Minstrelsy of the English Bor- 
der, with some arbitrary alterations. The 
ballad was formerly popular in Scotland. Kin- 
loch and Buchan printed B and C with some 
slight changes ; the texts are now given as they 
stand in the manuscripts. E, a traditional 
version from the English border, has unfortu- 
nately been improved by some literary pen. 

An English lady is prevailed upon to release 
a Scot from prison, and to fly with him, on 
the promise of being made his wife, and (A) 
lady of castles and towers. She takes much 
gold with her (A), and a swift steed (two, A). 
According to A they come to a rough river ; 
the lady is alarmed, but swims it, and is wet 
from top to toe. On coming within sight of 
Edinburgh, the faithless knight bids her choose 
whether she will be his paramour or go back : 
he has wife and children. She begs him to 
draw his sword and end her shame : he takes 
her horse away, and leaves her. Two English 
knights come by, who restore her to her fa- 
ther. The dismissal takes place at the Scottish 
cross and moor in B ; at a moor and a moss, C ; 
at Scotland bridge, D ; at a fair Scottish cross, 
B. She offers to be servant in his kitchen 
rather than go back, B, C, E ; begs him to 
throw her into the water, D ; from his castle 
wall, B. He fees an old man to take her 
home on an old horse, B, B. 

We do not find the whole of this story re- 
peated among other European nations, but 
there are interesting agreements in parts with 
Scandinavian, Polish, and German ballads. 

There is some resemblance in the first half 
to a pretty ballad of the northern nations 
which treats in a brief way the theme of our 
exquisite romance of ' The Nutbrown Maid : ' 
Danish, ' Den Trofaste Jomfru,' Grundtvig, 
No 249, IV, 494, nine copies, A-I, the first 
three from 16th or 17th century manuscripts, 
the others from tradition of this century, as are 

* Some of these ballads begin with stanzas which are 
fonnd also in Kvindemorderen and Ribold ballads (our No 
4, No 7), where also a young woman is carried off furtively 
by a man. This is only what is to be expected. 
. t By mistake, most probably. But in one of the Polish 
ballads, cited a little further on, Q (Kolberg, P. 1. Pol- 

also the following : K-M, ' Den Fredl0se,' Kris- 
tensen, ii, 191, No 57 : Swedish, ' De sju Gull- 
bergen,' A, Afzelius, No 79, III, 71, new ed., 
No 64, I, 322; B, C, Grundtvig, iv, 507 f: 
Norwegian A, 'Herre Per og stolt Margit,' 
Landstad, No 74, p. 590 ; B, ' Herr' Nikelus,' 
Landstad, No 75, p. 594.* All tell very much 
the same tale. A knight carries off a maid 
on his horse, making her magnificent promises, 
among which are eight gold castles, Dan. C, D, 
B, H, I ; one, K, L, M ; eight, Norw. A ; nine, 
Norw. B ; seven, Swed. B ; seven gold moun- 
tains, Swed. A, perhaps, by mistake of hevgen 
for bor^ar.f She gets her gold together while 
he is saddling bis horse, Dan. A, C, D, P, H, 
M ; Swed. A ; Norw. A, B. They come to a 
sea-strand or other water, it is many miles to 
the nearest land, Dan. B, D, Swed. A, C ; 
the lady wishes she were at home, Dan. B, P^ 
Swed. B, C. He swims the horse across, Dan. 
A, B, D, B, P, H, K, L, M ; Swed. A, B, O 
[part of the way, having started in a boat, 
Norw. A, B]. The maid wrings her clothes, 
Dan. A, D, K, L ; Swed. A ; Norw. A, B. 
She asks. Where are the gold castles which 
you promised ? Dan. C 7, D 14, K 9, L 7, 
M 8 ; Norw. A 22, B 16. J He tells her that 
he has no gold castle but this green turf, 
Dan. C 8 ; he needs none but the black ground 
and thick wood, Dan. K 10 : he is a penni- 
less, banished man. She offers him her gold 
to buy him a charter of peace. In all, except 
Dan. A, B, C, and the incomplete Dan. I, 
Norw. B, he goes on to say that he has plighted 
faith to another woman, and she meekly re- 
plies, Then I will be your servant. He con- 
tinues the trial no further, reveals himself 
as of wealth and rank, says that she shall have 
ladies to wait on her, and makes her his queen. 
The knight is king of England in Dan. B, H, 
King Henry, simply, in Dan. P. The gold 
castles prove to be realities : there is in Dan. 
B even one more than was promised. § 

skiego, 5 pp), the maid is told, " In my country the moun- 
tains are golden, the mountains are of gold." 
t So 'Lady Isabel and the Elf-Knight,' D 11 : 

' Is this your bowers and lofty towers? ' 

§ There is a similarity, which is perhaps not accidental, 
between these Scandinavian ballads and 'Child Waters.' 



The Polish ballads of the class of ' Lady 
Isabel and the Elf Knight ' (see p. 39 f) have 
thus much in common with ' The Fair Flower 
of Northumberland : ' a maid is induced to go 
off with a man on horseback, and takes gold 
with her ; after going a certain distance, he 
bids her return home ; in AA, H, R, he gives 
her her choice whether to return or to jump 
into the river ; she prefers death (cf. D 3, 5, 
p. 116) ; in all they finally come to a river, or 
other water, into which he throws her.* 

There is a German ballad which has some 
slight connection with all the foregoing, and 
a very slight story it is altogether : ' Stolz 
Heinrich,' Simrock, No 9, p. 28, ' Stolz Sy- 
burg,' Reiffenberg, No 16, p. 32, No 17, p. 34, 
from the Lower Rhine and Miinster ; made 
over, in Kretzschmer, i, 187, No 106. Hein- 

rich, or Syburg, wooes a king's daughter in 
a distant land. He asks her to go with him, 
and says he has seven mills in his country. 
" Tell me what they grind," says Margaret, 
" and I will go with you." The mills grind 
sugar and cinnamon, mace and cloves. They 
come to a green heath. Margaret thinks she 
sees the mills gleaming : he tells her that a 
green heath is all he has. " Then God have 
mercy that I have come so far," she says; 
draws a sword, kneels before him, and stabs 

The ballad of ' Young Andrew,' further 
on, has points in common with ' The Fair 
Flower of Northumberland.' 

C is translated by Rosa Warrens, Schot- 
tische Lieder der Vorzeit, No 31, p. 137. 

a. Deloney's Pleasant History of John Winchcomb, 9th 
ed., London, 1633, reprinted by Halliwell, p. 61. b. Ritson's 
Ancient Songs, 1790, p. 169. 

1 It was a knight in Scotland borne 

Follow, my love, come over the strand 
Was taken prisoner, and left forlorne, 

Even by the good Earle of Northumber- 

2 Then was he cast in prison strong, 
Where he could not walke nor lie along, 

Even by the goode Earle of Northumber- 

3 And as in sorrow thus he lay, 

The Earle's sweete daughter walkt that way, 
And she the faire flower of Northumber- 

4 And passing by, like an angell bright, 
The prisoner had of her a sight, 

And she the faire flower of Northumber- 

Child Waters makes Ellen swim a piece of water, shows her 
bis hall — " of red gold shines the tower " — where the fair- 
est lady is his paramour, subjects her to menial services, and 
finally, her patience withstanding all trials, marries her. 
* They pass the water in Q only, and that in a boat. 

5 And loud to her this knight did crie, 
The salt teares standing in his eye, 

And she the faire flower of Northumberland. 

6 ' Faire lady,' he said, ' take pity on me, 
And let me not in prison dye, 

And you the faire flower of Northumber- 

7 ' Faire Sir, how should I take pity on thee, 
Thou being a foe to our countrey. 

And I the faire flower of Northumberland.' 

8 ' Faire lady, I am no foe,' he said, 

' Through thy sweet love heere was I stayd, 
For thee, the faire flower of Northumber- 

9 ' Why shouldst thou come heere for love of me. 
Having wife and children in thy countrie ? 

And I the faire flower of Northumberland.' 

10 ' I sweare by the blessed Trinitie, 
I have no wife nor children, I, 

Nor dwelling at home in merrie Scotland. 

She is thrown in from a bridge in V, W, the bridge of Cra- 
cow in C : cf. Scotland bridge, D 2 of this ballad. By a 
curious accident, it is at a wayside crucifix that the man be- 
gins his change of demeanor in Polish CC 2 (Kolberg, 
ddd), as in B 5, E 7, of this ballad, it is at a Scottish cross. 



11 ' If curteously you will set me free, 
I vow that I will marrie thee, 

So soone as I come in faire Scotland. 

12 ' Thou shaJt be a lady of castles and towers, 
And sit like a queene in princely bowers, 

"When I am at home in faire Scotland.' 

13 Then parted hence this lady gay. 
And got her father's ring away, 

To helpe this sad knight into faire Scot- 

14 Likewise much gold she got by sleight, 
And all to helpe this forlorne knight 

To wend from her father to faire Scotland. 

16 Two gallant steedes, both good and able, 
She likewise tooke out of the stable. 

To ride with this knight into faire Scotland. 

16 And to the jaylor she sent this ring, 
The knight from prison forth to bring, 

To wend with her into faire Scotland. 

17 This token set the prisoner free. 
Who straight went to this faire lady. 

To wend with her into faire Scotland. 

18 A gallant steede he did bestride. 
And with the lady away did ride, 

And she the faire flower of Northumber- 

19 They rode tUl they came to a water cleare : 
' Good Sir, how should I follow you heere. 

And I the faire flower of Northumberland ? 

20 * The water is rough and wonderfull deepe, 
An[d] on my saddle I shall not keepe. 

And I the faire flower of Northumberland.' 

21 ' Feare not the foord, faire lady,' quoth he, 
' For long I cannot stay for thee. 

And thou the faire flower of Northumber- 

22 The lady prickt her wanton steed. 
And over the river swom with speede. 

And she the faire flower of Northumber- 

23 From top to toe all wet was shee : 

' This have I done for love of thee. 

And I the faire flower of Northumberland.' 

24 Thus rode she all one winter's night. 
Till Edenborow they saw in sight. 

The chiefest towne in all Scotland. 

25 ' Now chuse,' quoth he, ' thou wanton flower, 
Whe'r thou wilt be my paramour. 

Or get thee home to Northumberland. 

26 ' For I have wife, and children five, 
In Edenborow they be alive ; 

Then get thee home to faire England. 

27 ' This favour shalt thou have to boote, 
lie have thy horse, go thou on foote. 

Go, get thee home to Northumberland.' 

28 ' false and faithlesse knight,' quoth shee, 
* And canst thou deale so bad with me. 

And I the faire flower of Northumberland? 

29 ' Dishonour not a ladie's name, 

But draw thy sword and end my shame, 
And I the faire flower of Northumberland.' 

30 He tooke her from her stately steed. 
And left her there in extreme need. 

And she the faire flower of Northumberland. 

31 Then sate she downe full heavily ; 

At length two knights came riding by. 
Two gallant knights of faire England. 

32 She fell downe humbly on her knee. 
Saying, ' Courteous knights, take pittie on me, 

And I the faire flower of Northumberland. 

33 ' I have ofPended my father deere. 

And by a false knight that brought me heere, 
From the good Earle of Northumberland.' 

34 They tooke her up behind them then. 
And brought her to her father's againe. 

And he the good Earle of Northumberland. 

35 AU you faire maidens be warned by me, 
Scots were never true, nor never will be, 

To lord, nor lady, nor faire England. 




a. Kinloch MSS, v, 49, in the handwriting of J. Beattie. 
b. Kinloch's Ancient Scottish BaUads, p. 134, from the reci- 
tation of Miss E. Beattie. 

1 The provost's daughter went out a walking, 

A may's love whiles is easy won 
She heard a poor prisoner making his moan, 
And she was the fair flower of Northumber^ 

2 ' If any lady would borrow me 

Out into the prison strong, 
I would make her a lady of high degree, 
For I am a great lord in fair Scotland.' 

3 She 's done her to her father's bed-stock, 

A may's love whiles is easy won 
She 's stolen the keys o many braw lock. 

And she's loosd him out o the prison strong. 

4 She 's done her to her father's stable, 

A may's love whiles is easy won 
She 's taen out a steed that was both swift and 
To carry them both to fair Scotland. 

6 when they came to the Scottisli cross, 
A may's love whiles is easy won 
' Ye brazen-faced whore, light off o my horse, 
And go get you back to Northumberland ! ' 

6 O when they came to the Scottish moor, 

A may's love whiles is easy won 
' Get off o my horse, you 're a brazen-faced 
So go get you back to Northumberland ! ' 

7 ' O pity on me, O pity,' said she, 

' O that my love was so easy won ! 
Have pity on me as I had upon thee. 

When I loosd you out of the prison strong.' 

8 * how can I have pity on thee ? 

O why was your love so easy won ! 
When I have a wife and children three 
More worthy than a' Northumberland.' 

9 ' Cook in your kitchen I will be, 

O that my love was so easy won ! 
And serve your lady most reverently. 

For I darena go back to Northumberland.' 

10 ' Cook in my kitchen you shall not be. 

Why was your love so easy won ! 
For I win have no such servants as thee. 
So get you back to Northumberland.' 

11 But laith was he the lassie to tyne, 

A may's love whiles is easy won 
He 's hired an old horse and feed an old man, 
To carry her back to Northimaberland. 

12 O when she came her father before, 

A may's love whiles is easy won 
She fell down on her knees so low 

For she was the fair flower of Northumber- 

13 ' O daughter, daughter, why was ye so bold, 

Or why was your love so easy won. 
To be a Scottish whore in your fifteen year old ? 
And you the fair flower of Northumberland ! ' 

14 Her mother she gently on her did smUe, 

that her love was so easy won ! 
' She is not the first that the Scotts have beguild, 
But she 's still the fair flower of Northum- 

15 ' She shanna want gold, she shanna want fee, 

Altho that her love was so easy won. 
She shanna want gold to gain a man wi. 

And she 's still the fair flower of Northum- 

a. Buchan's MSS, ii, 166. 
North of Scotland, ii, 208. 

b. Buchan's Ballads of the 

1 As I went by a jail-house door. 
Maid's love whiles is easy won 
I saw a prisoner standing there, 

' I wish I were home in fair Scotland. 

2 ' Fair maid, will you pity me ? 

Ye 'U steal the keys, let me gae free : 
I 'U make you my lady in fair Scotland. 

3 ' I 'm sure you have no need of me. 
For ye have a wife and bairns three. 

That lives at home in fair Scotland.' 



4 He swore by him that was crownd with 

That he never had a wife since the day he was 
But livd a free lord in fair Scotland. 

5 She went unto her father's bed-head, 
She 's stown the key o mony a lock, 

She 's let bim out o prison strong. 

6 She 's went to her father's stable, 

She 's stown a steed baith wight and able. 
To carry them on to fair Scotland. 

7 They rode tiU they came to a muir. 

He bade her light a£E, they 'd call her a 
If she didna return to Northumberland. 

8 They rode till they came to a moss. 

He bade her light aff her father's best horse, 
And return her again to Northumberland. 

9 ' I 'm sure I have no need of thee, 
When I have a wife and bairns three. 
That lives at home in fair Scotland.' 

10 ' I '11 be cook in your kitchen. 
And serve your lady handsomelie. 

For I darena gae back to Northumberland.' 

11 ' Ye cannot be cook in my kitchen. 
My lady cannot fa sic servants as thee. 

So ye '11 return again to Northumberland.' 

12 When she went thro her father's ha. 
She looted her low amongst them a'. 

She was the fair flower o Northumberland. 

13 Out spake her father, he spake bold, 

' How could ye be a whore in fifteen years old, 
And you the flower of Northimiberland ? ' 

14 Out spake her mother, she spake wi a smile, 
' She 's nae the first his coat did beguile, 

Ye 're welcome again to Northumberland.' 

Motherwell's MS., p. 102. 

1 She 's gane down to her father's stable, 

O my dear, and my love that she wan 
She 's taen out a black steed baith sturdy and 
And she 's away to fair Scotland. 

2 When they came to Scotland bridge, 

' Light off, you whore, from my black steed, 
And go your ways back to Northumber- 

3 ' O take me by the body so meek. 
And throw me in the water so deep. 

For I daurna gae back to Northumberland.' 

4 ' I '11 no take thee by the body so meek. 
Nor throw thee in the water so deep ; 

Thou may go thy ways back to Northumber- 

5 ' Take me by the body so small, 
And throw me in yon bonny mill-dam. 

For I daurna gae back to Northumberland.' 


" Written down from memory by Robert Hutton, Shep- 
herd, Peel, Liddesdale." Mr R. White's papers. 

1 A batliff's fair daughter, she lived by the Aln, 

A young maid's love is easily won 
She heard a poor prisoner making his moan. 
And she was the flower of Northumberland. 

2 ' If ye could love me, as I do love thee, 

A young maid's love is hard to win 

I 'U make you a lady of high degree. 

When once we go down to fair Scotland.' 

3 To think of the prisoner her heart was sore, 

A young maid's love is easily won 
Her love it was much, but her pity was more, 
And she, etc. 

4 She stole from her father's pillow the key. 
And out of the dungeon she soon set him free, 

And she, etc. 



6 She led him into her father's stable, 

And they 've taken a steed both gallant and 
To carry them down to fair Scotland. 

6 When they first took the way, it was darling 

and dear ; 
As forward they fared, all changed was his 
And she, etc. 

7 They rode till they came to a fair Scottish 

corse ; 
Says he, ' Now, pray madam, dismount from 
my horse, 
And go get you back to Northumberland. 

8 ' It befits not to ride with a leman light, 
When awaits my returning my own lady 

My own wedded wife in fair Scotland.' 

9 The words that he said on her fond heart 

She knew not in sooth if she lived or not. 
And she, etc. 

10 She looked to his face, and it kythed so unkind 
That her fast coming tears soon rendered her 

And she, etc. 

11 ' Have pity on me as I had it on thee, 

O why was my love so easily won ! 
A slave in your kitchen I 'm willing to be, 
But I may not go back to Northumberland. 

12 * Or carry me up by the middle sae sma, 

O why was my love so easily won ! 

And fling me headlong from your high castle wa. 
For I dare not go back to Northumberland.' 

13 Her wailing, her woe, for nothing they went, 

A young maid's love is easily won 
His bosom was stone and he would not relent, 
And she, etc. 

14 He turned him around and he thought of a plan, 
He bought an old horse and he hired an old man, 

To carry her back to Northumberland. 

15 A heavy heart makes a weary way. 

She reached her home in the evening gray, - 
And she, etc. 

16 And all as she stood at her father's tower-gate. 
More loud beat her heart than her knock thereat, 

And she, etc. 

17 Down came her step-dame, so rugged and 

O why was your love so easily won ! 
' In Scotland go back to your false paramour. 
For you shall not stay here in Northumber- 

18 Down came her father, he saw her and smiled, 

A young maid's love is easily won 
' You are not the first that false Scots have be- 

And ye 're aye welcome back to Northum- 

19 ' You shall not want houses, you shall not want 

You shall not want gold for to gain a husband. 
And ye 're aye welcome back to Northum- 

A. a. 2. HalliwelVs Deloney, in the first line of 
the burden, has leape over, hut not elsewhere. 

9^ in the. 252. Where, 
b. 3^ walks. 3*. she is. 
5^. aloud. 
13^. omits sad. 
15^ the knight. 
16*. forth did. 
243. The fairest. 
27 ^ thou shalt. 
32^. knight. 

35^. never were. 
B. b. 2^. this prison. 

4*. omits that was. 

6^. ye brazen-fac'd. 

118. He hired. 

128. fgii at his feet. 

13^ omits so. 

14^. mother on her sae gentlie smild, etc. 

8^. Her bade. 8^. return him. 

5^. into. 

132. at fifteen. 




D. 2. Thus in Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appen- E. " The Flower of Northumberland. "Written 

dix, p. XV : down from memory by Robert Hutton, Shep- 

When they came to Scotland brig, perd, Peel, Liddesdale, and sent by James 

O my dear, my love that she wan ! Telfor to his friend Robert White, Newcastle 

' Light off, ye hure, from my black steed, on Tyne. 20 copies printed." Mr White's 

And hie ye awa to Northumberland.* note. 



A. a. ' The Miller and the King's Daughter,' broadside 
of 1656, Notes and Queries, 1st S., v, 591. b. Wit 

Restor'd, 1658,"p. 61," in the reprint of 1817, p. 153. 
c. ' The Miller and the Kino's Daughters,' Wit and 
Drollery, ed. 1682, p. 87. d. ' The Miller and the 
King's Daughter,' Jamieson's Popular Ballads, i, 

B. a. 'The Twa Sisters,' Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 
39. b. 'The Cruel Sister,' Wm. Tytler's Brown 
MS., No 15. c. 'The Cruel Sister,' Abbotsford MS., 
"Scottish Songs," fol. 21. d. 'The Twa Sisters,' 
Jamieson's Popular Ballads, i, 48. 

C. ' The Cruel Sister,' Scott's Minstrelsy, ii, 143 

D. ' The Bonnie Milldams of Binnorie,' Kinloch MSS, 
II, 49. 

E. ' The Twa Sisters,' Sharpe's Ballad Book, No x, p. 

F. 'The Bonny Bows o London,' Motherwell's MS., 
p. 883. 

G. Motherwell's MS., p. 104. 
H. Motherwell's MS., p. 147. 

L ' Bonnie Milldams o Binnorie,' Kinloch MSS, v, 425. 

J. ' The Miller's Melody,' Notes and Queries, 4th S., 
V, 23. 

K. ' Binnorie,' Kinloch's papers. 

L. a. ' The Miller's Melody,' Notes and Queries, 1st S., 
V, 316. b. ' The Drowned Lady,' The Scouring of 
the White Horse, p. 161. 

M. ' Binorie, O an Binorie,' Murison MS., p. 79. 

N. « Binnorie,' [Pinkertou's] Scottish Tragic Ballads, 
p. 72. 

O. ' The Bonny Bows o London.' a. Buchan's Ballads 
of the North of Scotland, ii, 128. b. Christie's Tra- 
ditional Ballad Airs, i, 42. 

P. a. ' The Twa Sisters,' Motherwell's MS., p. 245. b. 
' The Swan swims bonnie O,' Motherwell's Minstrel- 
sy, Appendix, p. xx. 

Q. ' The Twa Sisters,' communicated by J. F. Camp- 
bell, Esq. 

R. a. ' The Three Sisters,' Notes and Q., 1st S., vi, 
102, b. ' Bodown,' communicated by J. F. Camp- 
bell, Esq. c. ' The Barkshire Tragedy,' The Scour- 
ing of the White Horse, p. 158. 

S. Kinloch MSS, vi, 89. 

T. ' Sister, dear Sister,' Allingham's Ballad Book, p. 

U. From Long Island, N. Y., communicated by Mr W. 
W. Newell. 

This is one of the very few old ballads 
which are not extinct as tradition in the Brit- 
ish Isles. Even drawing-room versions are 
spoken of as current, "generally traced to 

some old nurse, who sang them to the young 
ladies." * It has been found in England, Scot^ 

* Campbell's Popular Tales of the West Highlands, iv, 
126, 1862. 



land, Wales, and Ireland, and was very early 
in print. Dr Rimbault possessed and pub- 
lished a broadside of the date 1656* (A a), 
and the same copy is included in the miscel- 
lany called Wit Restor'd, 1658. Both of 
these name " Mr Smith " as the author ; that 
is, Dr James Smith, a well-known writer of 
humorous verses, to whom the larger part of 
the pieces in Wit Restor'd has been attrib- 
uted. If the ballad were ever in Smith's hands, 
he might possibly have inserted the three bur- 
lesque stanzas, 11-13 ; but similar verses are 
found in another copy (L a), and might easily 
y^ be extemporized by any singer of sufficiently 
bad taste. Wit and Drollery, the edition of 
1682, has an almost identical copy of the bal- 
lad, and this is repeated in Dryden's Miscel- 
lany, edition of 1716, Part III, p. 316. In 1781 
Pinkerton inserted in his Tragic Ballads one 
with the title ' Binnorie,' purporting to be 
from Scottish tradition. Of twenty-eight coup- 
lets, barely seven are genuine. Scott printed 
in 1802 a copy (C) compounded from one " in 
Mrs Brown's MS." (B b) and a fragment of 
fourteen stanzas which had been transcribed 
from recitation by Miss Charlotte Brooke, 
adopting a burden found in neither.f Jamie- 
son followed, four years after, with a tolera- 
bly faithful, though not, as he says, verbatim, 
publication of his copy of Mrs Brown's ballad, 
somewhat marred, too, by acknowledged in- 
terpolations. This text of Mrs Brown's is 
now correctly given, with the whole or frag- 
ments of eleven others, hitherto unpublished. 

The ballad is as popular with the Scandi- 
navians as with their Saxon cousins. Grundt- 
vig, ' Den talende Strengeleg,' No 95, gives 
nine Danish versions and one stanza of a tenth ; 
seven, A-El, in n, 507 ff, the remainder, H-K, 

* Janiieson, in his Popular Ballads, ii, 315, prints the bal- 
lad, with five inconsiderable variations from the broadside, 
as from Musarum Delicise, 2d edition, 1656. The careful 
reprint of this book, and of the same edition, in " Facetiae," 
etc., 1817, docs not contain this piece, and the first edition, 
of 1655, differed in no respect as to contents, according to 
the editor of " Facetiae." Still it is hardly credible that 
Jamieson has blundered, and we may suppose that copies, 
ostensibly of the same edition, varied as to contents, a thing 
common enough with old books. 

t Cunningham has re- written Scott's version, Songs of 
Scotland, ii, 109, ' The Two Fair Sisters.' He says, " I 

in III, 875 ff. One more, L, is added by Kris- 
tensen, No 96, i, 253. Of these, only E had 
been previously printed. All are from tra- ^ 
dition of this century. 

There are two Icelandic versions, A from 
the 17th, B from the 19th, century, printed 
in Islehzk FornkvsetJi, No 13, ' Horpu kvseSi.' 

Of twelve Norwegian versions. A, by Moe, 
" is printed in Norske Universitets og Skole- 
Annaler for 1850, p. 287," and in Moe's Sam- 
lede Skrifter, II, 118, ' Dse bur ein Mann hser 
utmae Aa ; ' B, by Lindeman, Annaler, as be- 
fore, "p. 496," and in his Norske Fjeldmelodier, 
vol. I, Tekst-Bilag, p. 4, No 14, ' Dei tvge Sys- 
ta ; ' C, by Landstad, ' Dei tvo systar,' No 53, 
p. 480 ; D-L are described by Professor Bugge 
in Grundtvig, in, 877 f ; M " is printed in II- 
lustreret Nyhedsblads Nytaarsgave for 1860, 
p. 77, Christiania." 

Four Faroe versions are known : A, ' Horpu- 
rima,' "in Svabo's MS., No 16, i, 291," incor- 
rectly printed by Afzelius, i, 86, and accu- 
rately, from a copy furnished by Grundtvig, 
in Bergstrom's edition of Afzelius, ii, 69 ; B, 
a compound of two versions taken down by 
Pastor Lyngbye and by Pastor Schroter, in 
Nyeste Skilderie af Kjobenhavn, 1821, col. 
997 if ; C, a transcript from recitation by Ham- 
mershaimb (Grundtvig) ; D, " in Fugloyjar- 
b6k. No 31." 

Swedish versions are : A, ' Den underbara 
Harpan,' Afzelius, No 17, i, 81, new ed.. No 
16, 1, I, 72 : B, ' De tva Systrarne,' Afzelius, 
No 69, ni, 16, new ed., No 16, 2, i, 74 : C, 

D, E, unprinted copies in Cavallius and Ste- 
phens's collection : P, ' De tva Systrarne,' Ar- 
widsson. No 99, II, 139 : G, ' Systermordet,' 

E. Wigstrom, Skanska Visor, p. 4, and the 
same, Foikdiktning, etc., No 7, p. 19 : H, 

was once deeply touched with the singing of this romantic 
and mournful song. ... I have ventured to print it in the 
manner I heard it sung." There is, to be sure, no reason 
why he should not have heard his own s(mg sung, once, and , 
still less why he should not have been deeply touched with ^ 
his own pathos.. Cunningham adds one genuine stanza, 
resembling the first of G, J, P : 

Two fair sisters lived in a bower, 

Hey ho my nonnie 
There came a knight to be their wooer. 

While the swan swims bonnie O 




Rancken, NSgra Prof af Folks&ng, No 3, p. 
10. Afzelius, moreover, gives variations from 
four other copies which he had collected, in, 
20 ff, new ed., II, 74 ff; and Rancken from 
three others. Both of the editors of the new 
Afzelius have recently obtained excellent copies 
from singers. The ballad has also been found 
in Finnish, Bergstrom's Afzelius, II, 79, 

There is a remarkable agreement between 
the Norse and English ballads till we ap- 
proach the conclusion of the story, with a 
natural diversity as to some of the minuter 

The sisters are king's daughters in English 
A, B, C, H, O (?), P, Q, R a, and in Swed- 
ish B and two others of Afzelius's versions. 
The)'^ are an earl's daughters in Swedish F, 
and sink to farmer's daughters in English 
R b, c,* Swedish A, G, Norwegian C. 

It is a thing made much of in most of the 
Norse ballads that the younger sister is fair 
and the older dark ; the younger is bright as 
the sun, as white as ermine or as milk, the elder 
black as soot, black as the earth, Icelandic 
A, Swedish A, B, G, Danish A, D, etc. ; and 
this difference is often made the ground for 
very unhandsome taunts, which qualify our 
compassion for the younger; such as Wash 
all day, and you will be no whiter than God 
made you. Wash as white as you please, you 
will never get a lover, Faroe A, B, Nor- 
wegian A, C, etc. This contrast may possibly 
be implied in " the youngest was the fairest 
flower," English F, G, Q [" sweetest," D], but 
is expressed only in M, " Ye was fair and I 
was din " (dun), and in P a, " The old was 
black and the young ane fair." 

The scene of action is a seashore in Ice- 
landic and Fiiroe A, B, Norwegian A, Swedish 
A, B, G, H, and in all the Danish complete 
copies: a seashore, or a place where ships 
come in, in English A, B a, D-I, Q, R a, T, but 
in all save the last of these (the last is only 
one stanza) we have the absurdity of a body 

* English M is confused on this point. The sisters live 
in a hall. The burden in st. 1 makes them love a miller-lad ; 
but in 14, 15, calls the drowned girl " the bonnie miller' s-lass 
o Binorie." 

t The sisters, D, I, walk by, up, a linn ; Q, go to a sand 
[strand] ; Q, go to the stream ; R a, walk on the bryn. 

drowned in navigable water being discovered 
floating down a mill-stream. f B c has " the 
deep mill-dam ; " C " the river-strand," per- 
haps one of Scott's changes ; M, " the dams ; " 
L, O, P, R b 0, a river, Tweed mill-dam, 
or the water of Tweed. Norwegian B has a 

The pretence for the older sister's taking 
the younger down to the water is in Eng- 
lish A-E, G, H, I, O, Q, to see their father's 
ships come in ; in Icelandic B to wash their 
silks ; J in most of the Norse ballads to wash 
themselves, so that, as the elder says, " we 
may be alike white," Danish C-H, Norwegian 

A, C, Swedish F, G, Faroe A, B. Malice pre- 
pense is attributed to the elder in Swedish B, 
F, Norwegian C, Danish E, F, G : but in Fa- 
roe A, B, Norwegian A, B, and perhaps some 
other cases, a previous evil intent is not cer- 
tain, and the provocations of the younger sister 
may excuse the elder so far. 

The younger is pushed from a stone upon ^ 
which she sits, stands, or steps, in English B, 
C, E-H, M, O, Q, Icelandic A, B, Faroe A, 

B, Norwegian A, B, C, Danish A-E, H, L, 
Swedish G, H, and Rancken's other copies. 

The drowning scene is the same in all the 
ballads, except as to one point. The younger 
sister, to save her life, offers or consents to 
renounce her lover in the larger number, as 
English B-E, G, H, I, M, P, Q, Danish A-D, 
F, G, I, Swedish A-D, G, H ; and in Icelandic 
B and " all the Faroe " ballads she finally 
yields, after first saying that her lover must 
dispose of himself. But Swedish F, with 
more spirit, makes the girl, after promising 
everything else, reply : 

' Help then who can, help God above ! 
But ne'er shalt thou get my dear true-love.' 

In this refusal concur Icelandic A, Danish 
E, H, L, and all the Norwegian versions ex- 
cept L. 

Swedish A, G, and Rancken's versions (or 

I Swedish H begins, " Dear sister, come follow me to the 
clapping-stone : " " Nay, I have no foul clothes." So F 6, 7, 
G 4, 5, Faroe A 6, nearly ; and then follows the suggestion 
that they sho\ild wash themselves. Another of Rancken's 
copies begins, " Two sisters went to the bucking-stone, to back 
their clothes snow-white," H ; and so Rancken's S nearly. 



two of them) make the younger sister, when 
she sees that she must drown, send greetings 
to her father, mother, true-love [also brother, 
sister, Rancken], and add in each case that 
she is drinking, or dancing, her bridal in the 
flood, that her bridal-bed is made on the white- 
sand, etc. 

The body of the drowned girl is discorered, 
in nearly all the English ballads, by some 
member of the miller's household, and is 
taken out of the water by the miller. In L b, 
which, however, is imperfect at the beginning, 
a harper finds the body. In the Icelandic bal- 
lads it is found on the seashore by the lover ; 
in all the Norwegian but M by two fishermen, 
as also in Swedish D [fishermen in Swedish 
B] ; in all the Faroe versions and Norwegian 
M by two " pilgrims ; " * in Danish A-F, L, 
and Swedish C by two musicians, Danish H, 
Swedish A, G, one. Danish G, which is cor- 
rupted at the close, has three musicians, but 
these simply witness and report the drowning. 

According to all complete and uncorrupted 
forms of the ballad, either some part of the 
body of the drowned girl is taken to furnish 
a musical instrument, a harp or a viol,t or 
the instrument is wholly made from the body. 
This is done in the Norse ballads by those who 
first find the body, save in Swedish B, where 
fishermen draw the body ashore, and a passing 
" speleman " makes the instrument. In Eng- 
lish it is done by the miller, A ; by a harper, 
B, C, G, L b (the Icing's harper in B) ; by a 
fiddler, D, E, I, L a (?), O, P (the Ung's 
fiddler, O (?), P) ; by both a fiddler and the 
king's harper, H ; in P by the father's herds- 
man, who happens to be a fiddler. 

Perhaps the original conception was the 
simple and beautiful one which we find in 
English B and both the Icelandic ballads, that 

* There are, besides the two fishermen, in Norwegian A, 
two " twaddere," i. e., landloupers, possibly (Bugge) a cor- 
ruption of the word rendered pilgrims, Faroe vallarar, Swed- 
ish vallare. The vallarar in these ballads are perhaps more 
respectable than those whose acquaintance we shall make 
through the Norse versions of ' Babylon,' and may be al- 
lowed to be harmless vagrants, but scarcely better, seeing 
that they are ranked with " staff-carls " in Norges Gamle 
Love, cited by Cleasby and Vigf usson at ' vallari.' 

t A harp in the Icelandic and Norwegian ballads, Faroe 
A, B, C, Swedish A, B, D, G, H ; a harp in English B, 

the king's harper, or the girl's lover, takes 
three locks of her yellow hair to string his 
harp with. So we find three tets of hair in D, 
E, I, and three links in P, P, used, or directed 
to be used, to string the fiddle or the fiddle- 
bow, and the same, apparently, with Danish A. 
Infelicitous additions were, perhaps, succes- 
sively made ; as a harp-frame from the breast- 
bone in English C, and fiddle-pins formed of 
the finger-joints, English F, O, Danish B, C, 

E, P, L. Then we have all three : the frame 
of the instrument formed from the breast (or 
trunk), the screws from the finger-joints, the 
strings from the hair, Swedish A, B, G, Nor- 
wegian A, C, M. And so one thing and another 
is added, or substituted, as fiddle-bows of the 
arms or legs, Swedish C, D, Danish H, Eng- 
lish L a ; a harp-frame from the arms, Nor- 
wegian B, Faroe A ; a fiddle-frame from the 
skull, Swedish C, or from the back-bone, Eng- 
lish L b ; a plectrum from the arm, Faroe B ; 
strings from the veins, English A ; a bridge 
from the nose, English A, L a ; "h0rp0nota" 
from the teeth, Norwegian B ; till we end 
with the buffoonery of English A and L a. 

Swedish H has nothing about the finding 
of the body. Music is wanted for the bri- 
dal, and a man from another village, who un- 
dertakes to furnish it, looks three days for a 
proper tree to make a harp of. The singer 
of this version supplied the information, lost 
from the ballad, that the drowned sister had 
floated ashore and grown up into a linden, and 
that this was the very tree which was chosen 
for the harp. (See, further on, a Lithuanian, 
a Slovak, and an Esthonian ballad.) 

All the Norse ballads make the harp or fid- 
dle to be taken to a wedding, which chances 
to be that of the elder sister with the drowned 
girl's betrothed. J Unfortunately, many of the 

C, G, J. A harp is not named in any of the Danish ver- 
sions, but a fiddle is mentioned in C, E, H, is plainly meant 
in A, and may always be intended ; or perhaps two fiddles in 
all but H (which has only one fiddler), and the corrupted G. 
D begins with two fiddlers, but concludes with only one. 
We have a fiddle in Swedish C, and in English A, D, E, 

F, I, J, K, L, O, P ; both harp and fiddle in H. 

J Some of the unprinted Norwegian ballads are not com- 
pletely described, but a departure from the rule of the major 
part would probably have been alluded to. 



English versions are so injured towards the 
close that the full story cannot be made out. 
v/ There is no wedding-feast preserved in any 
of them. The instrument, in A, B, C, H, is 
taken into the king's presence. The viol in 
A and the harp in H are expressly said to 
speak. The harp is laid upon a stone in C, 
J, and plays " its lone ; " the fiddle plays of 
itself in L b.* B makes the harper play, and 
D, F, K, O, which say the fiddle played, 
probably mean that there was a fiddler, and 
so perhaps with all the Norse versions; but 
this is not very material, since in either case 

i the instrument speaks " with most miraculous 

! organ." 

There are three strings made from the girl's 
hair in Icelandic A, B, English B [veins, 
English A], and the three tets or links in 
English D, E, P, I, P were no doubt taken 
to make three strings originally. Correspond- 
ing to this are three enunciations of the in- 
strument in English A, B, C, Icelandic A, 
Faroe A,t B, Swedish A, B, C, B, G, H, 
Danish A, D, F, I. These are reduced to 
two in Icelandic B, Danish B, C, H, L, Swed- 
ish D, and even to one in English D, F, I, 
K, O, but some of these have suffered injury 
towards the conclusion. The number is in- 
creased to four in Norwegian B, to five in 
Norwegian A, D, and even to six in Norwegian 
' C, K, M. The increase is, of course, a later 
exaggeration, and very detrimental to the 
; effect. In those English copies in which the 
instrument speaks but once,J D, F, K, O, and 
we may add P, it expresses a desire for ven- 
geance : Hang my sister, D, F, K ; Ye '11 
drown my sister, as she 's dune me, O ; Tell 
him to burn my sister, P. This is found in 
no Norse ballad, neither is it found in the 
earliest English versions. These, and the bet- 
ter forms of the Norse, reveal the awful se- 
cret, directly or indirectly, and, in the latter 
case, sometimes note the effect on the bride. 
Thus, in Icelandic B, the first string sounds. 

The bride is our sister ; the second, The bride 
is our murderer. In Danish B the first fiddle 
plays, The bride is my sister ; the second. The 
bridegroom is my true-love ; in C, H, the first 
strain is. The bride has drowned her sister, 
the second. Thy sister is driven [blown] to 
land. Faroe A, B, have : (1) The bride was 
my sister ; (2) The bride was my murderer ; 
(3) The bridegroom was my true-love. The 
bride then says that the harp disturbs her 
much, and that she lists to hear it no more. 
Most impressive of all, with its terse, short 
lines, is Icelandic A : 

The first string made response : 
' The bride was my sister once.' 

The bride on the bench, she spake : 
' The harp much trouble doth make.' 

The second string answered the other : 
' She is parting me and my lover.' 

Answered the bride, red as gore : 
' The harp is vexing us sore.' 

The canny third string replied : 
* I owe my death to the bride.' 

He made all the harp-strings clang ; 
The bride's heart burst with the pang. 

This is the wicked sister's end in both of 
the Icelandic ballads and in Faroe A, B. In 
Swedish A, G, at the first stroke on the harp 
she laughs ; at the second she grows pale [has 
to be undressed] ; upon the third she lay dead 
in her bed [falls dead on the floor]. She is 
burned in Danish A, B, C, F, G, Swedish B, 
Norwegian A, B, C, I, M. In Norwegian K, 
L, the younger sister (who is restored to life) 
begs that the elder may not be burned, but 
sent out of the country (cf. English R b o) ; 
nevertheless, she is buried alive in L, which 
is her fate also in E, and in other unprinted 
versions. A prose comment upon Danish I 
has her stabbed by the bridegroom. 

• The stanza, 9, in which this is said is no doubt as to its 
form entirely modem, bat not so the idea. I has " the first 
spring that he playd, it said," etc. 

t The fourth string is said to speak in Faroe A 30, but 
no utterance is recorded, and this is likely to be a mistake. 

In many of the versions, and in this, after the strings hare 
spoken individually, they unite in a powerful but inarticu- 
late concord. 
I I has lost the terminal stanzas. 



Norwegian B 21 makes the bride, in her 
confusion at the revelations of the harp, ask 
the bridegroom to drive the fiddler out of the 
house. So far from complying, the bride- 
groom orders him mead and wine, and the 
bride to the pile. In Norwegian the bride 
treads on the harper's foot, then orders the 
playing to stop ; but the bridegroom springs 
from the table, and cries. Let the harp have its 
song out, pays no regard to the lady's alleging 
that she has so bad a head that she cannot bear 
it, and finally sends her to the pile. So, near- 
ly, Norwegian A. In Danish A, C, D, H, L, 
vainly in the first two, the bride tries to hush 
the fiddler with a bribe. He endeavors to take 
back what he has said in D, L, declaring him- 
self a drunken fool (the passage is borrowed 
from another ballad) : still in L, though suc- 
cessful for the nonce, she comes to the stake 
and wheel some months after. In H the fid- 
dler dashes the instrument against a stone, 
seemingly to earn his bribe, but this trait be- 
longs to versions which take the turn of the 
Norwegian. In C 15 the bride springs from 
the table, and says, Give the fiddlers a trifle, 
and let them go. This explains the last 
stanza of English A (cf., Norwegian B 21) : 

Now pay the miller for his payne, 

And let him bee gone in the divel's name. 

Swedish P has an entirely perverted and 
feeble conclusion. " A good man " takes the 
younger sister from the water, carries her to 
his house, revives her, and nurses her till the 
morrow, and then restores her to her father, 
who asks why she is so pale, and why she 
had not come back with her sister. She ex- 
plains that she had been pushed into the wa- 
ter, " and we may thank this good man that 
I came home at all." The father tells the 
elder that she is a disgrace to her country, 
and condemns her to the " blue tower." But 
her sister intercedes, and a cheerful and hand- 
some wedding follows. 

Swedish C and nearly all the Norwegian 

* Not M, and apparently not D, which ends : 

When he kissed the harp upon the mouth, his heart broke. 

t So the traitor John pushes away Catherine's hands in 

ballads * restore the drowned girl to life, but 
not by those processes of the Humane Society 
which are successfully adopted by the " arlig 
man " in Swedish F. The harp is dashed 
against a stone, or upon the floor, and the girl 
stands forth " as good as ever." As Landstad 
conceives the matter (484, note 7), the elder 
sister is a witch, and is in ,the end burned aa 
such. The white body of the younger is made 
to take on the appearance of a crooked log, 
which the fishermen (who, by the way, are 
angels in C, E) innocently shape into a harp, 
and the music, vibrating from her hair 
" through all her limbs, marrow and bone," 
acts as a disenchantment. However this may 
be, the restoration of the younger sister, like 
all good endings foisted on tragedies, emas- 
culates the story. 

English F 9 has the peculiarity, not noticed 
elsewhere, that the drowning girl catches at a 
broom-root, and the elder sister forces her to 
let go her hold.f In Swedish G she is simply 
said to swim to an alder-root. In English G 8 
the elder drives the younger from the land 
with a switch, in I 8 pushes her off with a sil- 
ver wand. 

English O introduces the ghost of the drowned 
sister as instructing her father's fiddler to make 
a string of her hair and a peg of her little 
finger bone, which done, the first spring the 
fiddle plays, it says, 

' Ye 'U drown my sister as she 's dune me.' 

P, which is disordered at the end, seems to 
have agreed with O. In Q the ghost sends, 
by the medium of the miller and his daugh- 
ter, respects to father, mother, and true-love, 
adding a lock of yellow hair for the last. The 
ghost is found in N, Pinkerton's copy, as 
well, but there appears to the lover at dead of 
night, two days after the drowning. It in- 
forms him of the murder, and he makes search 
for the body. This is a wide departure from 
the original story, and plainly a modern per- 
version. Another variation, entirely wanting 

' Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight/ Polish Q 25 (see p. 40). 
In the French versions A, C, E of the same, the knight 
catches at a branch to save himself, and the lady cuts it oflf 
with his sword. 



in ancient authority, appears in R, S. The 
girl is not dead when she has floated down 
to the mill-dam, and, being drawn out of the 
-water by the miller, offers him a handsome 
reward to take her back to her father [S, 
to throw her in again!]. The miller takes 
the reward, and pushes the girl in again, for 
which he is hanged.* 

Q has a burden partly Gaelic, 

.... ohone and aree (alack and O Lord), 
On the banks of the Banna (White River), 
ohone and aree, 

which may raise a question whether the Scotch 
burden Binnorie (pronounced Binnorie, as well 
as Binnorie) is corrupted from it, or the cor- 
ruption is on the other side. Mr Campbell 
notices as quaint the reply in stanza. 9 : 

' I did not put you in with the design 
Just for to puU you out again.' 

We have had a similar reply, made under like 
circumstances, in Polish versions of No 4 ; see 
p. 40, note. 

All the Norse versions of this ballad are in 
two-line stanzas, and all the English, except 
L b and in part L a. 

Some of the traits of the English and Norse 
story are presented by an Esthonian ballad, 
* The Harp,' Neus, Ehstnische Volkslieder, No 
13, p. 66. Another version is given in Ro- 
senplanter's Beitrage zur genauern Kenntniss 
der ehstnischen Sprache, Heft 4, 142, and a 
third, says Neus, in Ch. H. J. Schlegel's Reisen 
in mehrere russische Gouvernements, V, 140. 
A young woman, who tells her own story, is 
murdered by her sisters-in-law and buried in 
a moor. She comes up as a birch, from which, 
with the jaw-bone of a salmon, the teeth of a 
pike, and her own hair (the account is some- 
what confused) a harp is made. The harp is 
taken to the hall by the murdered girl's broth- 
er, and responds to his playing with tones of 
sorrow like those of the bride who leaves fa- 
ther and mother for the house of a husband.f 

• The miller begins to lose character in H : 
14 He dragged her out unto the shore, 
And stripped her of all she wore, 
t Neus also refers to an Esthonian saga of Rogntaja's 

A Slovak ballad often translated (Talvj, 
Historical View, etc., p. 392; Wenzig's Sla- 
wische Volkslieder, p. 110, Westslawischer 
Marchenschatz, 273, and Bibliothek Slavischer 
Poesien, p. 134 ; Lewestam, Polnische Volk- 
sagen und Marchen, p. 151) comes nearer in 
some respects. A daughter is cursed by her 
mother for not succeeding in drawing water in 
frosty weather. Her bucket turns to stone, 
but she to a maple. Two fiddlers come by, 
and, seeing a remarkably fine tree, propose to 
make of it fiddles and fiddle-sticks. When 
they cut into the tree, blood spirts out. The 
tree bids them go on, and when they have 
done, play before the mother's door, and sing. 
Here is your daughter, that you cursed to 
stone. At the first notes the mother runs 
to the window, and begs them to desist, for she 
has suffered much since she lost her daughter. 

The soul of a dead girl speaks through a tree, 
again, in a Lithuanian ballad, Nesselmann, 
Littauische Volkslieder, No 378, p. 320. The 
girl is drowned while attempting to cross a 
stream, carried down to the sea, and finally 
thrown ashore, where she grows up a linden. 
Her brother makes a pipe from a branch, and 
the pipe gives out sweet, sad tones. The 
mother says. That tone comes not from the 
linden ; it is thy sister's soul, that hovers over 
the water. A like idea is met with in another 
Lithuanian ballad, Rhesa, Dainos, ed. Kur- 
schat. No 85, p. 231. A sister plucks a bud 
from a rose-bush growing over the grave of 
her brother, who had died from disappointed 
love. How fragrant ! she exclaims. But her 
mother answers, with tears, It is not the rose- 
bud, but the soul of the youth that died of 

Though the range of the ballad proper is 
somewhat limited, popular^tsdes^equiy^ent^as, 
to the characteristic circumstances are very 
widely diffused. 

A Polish popular tale, which is, indeed, half 
song, Wojcicki, Klechdy, ed. 1851, ii, 15 
(Lewestam, p. 105), Kolberg, Pies'ni ludu 

wife, and to ' Die Pfeiferin,' a tale, in Das Inland, 1846, No 
48, Beilage, col. 1246 ff, 1851, No 14, col. 230 ff; and to a 
Slovenian ballad in Tielemann, Livona, ein hiatorisch-po- 
etisches Taschenbuch, 1812, p. 187. 



Polskiego, p. 292, No 40 a, b, c, approaches 
very close to the English-Norse ballad. There 
were three sisters, all pretty, but the youngest 
far surpassing the others. A young man from 
the far-off Ukraine fell in with them while 
they were making garlands. The youngest 
pleased him best, and he chose her for his 
wife. This excited the jealousy of the eldest, 
and a few days after, when they were gather- 
ing berries in a wood, she killed the youngest, 
notwithstanding the resistance of the second 
sister, buried her, and gave out that she had 
been torn to pieces by wolves. When the 
youth came to ask after his love, the mur- 
deress told him this tale, and so won him by 
her devoted consolations that he offered her 
his hand. A willow grew out of the grave of 
the youngest, and a herdsman made a pipe 
from one of its boughs. Blow as he would, 
he could get no sound from the pipe but this : 

* Blow on, herdsman, blow ! God shall bless thee 

The eldest was my slayer, the second tried to stay 

The herdsman took the pipe to the house of 
the murdered girl. The mother, the father, 
and the second sister successively tried it, 
and the pipe always sang a like song. Blow, 
mother, blow, etc. The father then put the 
pipe into the eldest sister's hands. She had 
hardly touched it, when blood spattered her 
cheeks, and the pipe sang : 

* Blow on, sister, blow : God shall wreak me now. 
Thou, sister, 't was didst slay me, the younger tried 

to stay thee,' etc. 

The murderess was torn by wild horses. 

Professor Bugge reports a Norwegian tale, 
Grundtvig, HI, 878, which resembles the bal- 
lad at the beginning. There were in a fam- 
ily two daughters and a son. One sister was 
wasteful, the other saving. The second com- 
plained of the first to her parents, and was 
killed and buried by the other. Foliage cov- 
ered the grave, so that it could not be seen, 
but on the trees under which the body lay, 
there grew " strings." These the brother cut 
off and adapted to his fiddle, and when he 
played, the fiddle said, My sister is killed. 

The father, having heard the fiddle's revela- 
tion, brought his daughter to confess her act. 

There is a series of tales which represent a 
king, or other personage, as being afflicted 
with a severe malady, and as promising that 
whichever of his children, commonly three 
sons, should bring him something necessary 
for his cure or comfort should be his heir : 
(1) 'La Flor del LiliU,' Fernan Caballero, 
L^rimas, cap. 4 ; (2) ' La cana del riu de 
arenas,' Mild, Observaciones sobre la poesia 
popular, p. 178, No 3 ; (3) ' Es kommt doch 
einmal an den Tag,' Miillenhof, Sagen, u. s. 
w., p. 495, No 49 ; (4) ' Vom singenden Du- 
delsack,' Gonzenbach, Sicilianische Marchen, 
I, 329, No 51. Or the inheritance is promised 
to whichever of the children finds something 
lost, or rich and rare, a griffin's feather, a 
golden branch, a flower : (5) ' Die Greifen- 
feder,' Schneller, Marchen und Sagen aus 
Walschtirol, p. 143, No 51 ; (6) ' La Flauuto,' 
Blad^, Contes et proverbes populaires re- 
cueillis en Armagnac, p. 3, No 1 ; (7) Wack- 
ernagel, in Haupt's Zeitschrift, ni, 35, No 
3, = ' Das Todtebeindli,' Colshorn, C. u. 
Th., Marchen u. Sagen, p. 193, No 71, = Su- 
termeister, Kinder-u.-Hausmarchen aus der 
Schweiz, p. 119, No 39. Or a king promises 
his daughter to the man who shall capture a 
dangerous wild beast, and the exploit is un- 
dertaken by three brothers [or two] : (8) 
' Der singende Knochen,' Grimms, K. u. H. 
marchen, I, 149, No 28 (1857); (9) 'Die 
drei Briider,' Curtze, Volksiiberlieferungen 
aus dem Fiirstenthum Waldeck, p. 53, No 
11 ; (10) 'Der Rohrstengel,' Haltrich, Deutsche 
Volksmarchen aus dem Sachsenlande, u. s. w., 
p. 225, No 42. With these we may^ group, 
though divergent in some respects, (11) ' Der 
goldene Apfel,' Toeppen, Aberglauben aus 
Masuren, p. 139.* In all these tales the young- 
est child is successful, and is killed, out of 
envy, by the eldest or by the two elder. 
[There are only two children in (6), (7), 
(8) ; in (4) the second is innocent, as in the 
Polish tale.] Reeds grow over the spot where 
the body is buried (1), (2), (10), (11), or an 

* All these are cited in Eohler's note, Gonzenbach, ii, 



elder bush (3), out of which a herdsman makes 
a pipe or flute ; or a white bone is found by a 
herdsman, and he makes a pipe or horn of it 
(5-9) ; or a bag-pipe is made of the bones and 
skin of the murdered youth (4). The instru- 
ment, whenever it is played, attests the mur- 

Among the tales of the South African Bech- 
uana, there is one of a younger brother, who 
has been killed by an older, immediately ap- 
pearing as a bird, and announcing what has oc- 
curred. The bird is twice killed, and the last 
time burnt and its ashes scattered to the winds, 
but still reappears, and proclaims that his body 
lies by a spring in the desert. Grimms, K. 
u. H. m. Ill, 361. Liebrecht has noted that 
the fundamental idea is found in a Chinese 
drama, ' The Talking Dish,' said to be based 
on a popular tale. An innkeeper and his wife 

kill one of their guests for his money, and 
burn the body. The innkeeper collects the 
ashes and pounds the bones, and makes a sort 
of mortar and a dish. This dish speaks very 
distinctly, and denounces the murderers. Jour- 
nal Asiatique, 1851, 4th Series, vol. 18, p. 

Danish A, B are translated by Prior, i, 381, 
384. English B, with use of C, is translated by 
Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, 
p. 104, No 15 ; C, by Afzelius, in, 22. C, by 
Talvj, Versuch, u. s. w., p. 532; by Schubart, 
p. 133 ; by Gerhard, p. 143 ; by Doenniges, 
p. 81 ; Arndt, p. 238. C, with use of Ay- 
toun's compounded version, by R. Warrens, 
Schottische V. L. der Vorzeit, p. 65 ; Ailing- 
ham's version by Knortz, Lieder u. Romanzen 
Alt-Englands, p. 180. 

A. a. Broadside "printed for Francis Grove, 1656," re- 
printed in Notes and Queries, Ist S., v, 591. b. Wit Re- 
stor'd, 1658, "p. 51," p. 153 of the reprint of 1817. c. Wit 
and Drollery, ed. 1682, p. 87, = Dry den's Miscellany, Part 
3, p. 316, ed. 1716. d. Jamieson's Popular Ballads, i, 315. 

1 There were two sisters, they went playing, 

With a hie downe downe a downe-a 
To see their father's ships come sayling in. 
With a hy downe downe a downe-a 

2 And when they came unto the sea-hrym, 
The elder did push the younger in. 

3 ' sister, sister, take me by the gowne, 
And drawe me up upon the dry ground.' 

4 ' O sister, O sister, that may not bee, 

Till salt and oatmeale grow both of a tree.' 

6 Somtymes she sanke, somtymes she swam, 
Until she came unto the mill-dam. 

6 The miller runne hastily downe the clifFe, 
And up he betook her withouten her life. 

8 What did he doe with her fingers so small ? 
He made him peggs to his violl withall. 

9 What did he doe with her nose-ridge ? 
Unto his violl he made him a bridge. 

10 What did he doe with her veynes so blew ? 
He made him strings to his vioU thereto. 

11 What did he doe with her eyes so bright ? 
Upon his violl he played at first sight. 

12 What did he doe with her tongue so rough ? 
Unto the vioU it spake enough. 

13 What did he doe with her two shinnes ? 
Unto the violl they danc'd MoU Syms. 

14 Then bespake the treble string, 

' O yonder is my father the king.' 

15 Then bespake the second string, 

' yonder sitts my mother the queen.' 

16 And then bespake the strings all three, 

' yonder is my sister that drowned mee.' 

7 What did he doe with her brest-bone ? 
He made him a violl to play thereupon. 

17 * Now pay the miller for his payne, 

And let him bee gone in the divel's name.' 





13 ' sister, sister, save my life, 

An I swear Ise never be nae man's wife.' 

a. Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 39. b. Wm. Tytler's Brown 
MS., No 15. c. Abbotsford MS., " Scottish Songs," fol. 21. ^^ * Foul fa the han that I should tacke. 

d. Jamieson's Popular Ballads, i, 48. 

1 There was twa sisters in a bowr, 

Edinburgh, Edinburgh 
There was twa sisters in a bowr, 

Stirling for ay 
There was twa sisters in a bowr. 
There came a knight to be their wooer. 

Bonny Saint Johnston stands upon Tay 

2 He courted the eldest wi glove an ring, 
But he lovd the youngest above a' thing. 

3 He courted the eldest wi brotch an knife, 
But lovd the youngest as his life. 

4 The eldest she was vexed sair, 
An much envi'd her sister fair. 

5 Into her bowr she could not rest, 
Wi grief an spite she almos brast. 

6 Upon a morning fair an clear. 
She cried upon her sister dear : 

7 ' sister, come to yon sea stran, 

An see our father's ships come to Ian.' 

8 She 's taen her by the milk-white han, 
An led her down to yon sea stran. 

9 The younges[t] stood upon a stane, 
The eldest came an threw her in. 

10 She tooke her by the middle sma, 
An dashd her bonny back to the jaw. 

11 ' O sister, sister, tak my han. 

An Ise mack you heir to a' my Ian. 

12 ' sister, sister, tak my middle. 

An yes get my goud and my gouden girdle. 

It twin'd me an my wardles make. 

15 ' Your cherry cheeks an yallow hair 
Gars me gae maiden for evermair.' 

16 Sometimes she sank, an sometimes she swam, 
Till she came down yon bonny miU-dam. 

17 out it came the miUer^s son. 
An saw the fair maid swimmin in. 

18 ' O father, father, draw your dam, 
Here 's either a mermaid or a swan.' 

19 The miUer quickly drew the dam. 
An there he found a drownd woman. 

20 You coudna see her yallow hair 

For gold and pearle that were so rare. 

21 You coudna see her middle sma 

For gouden girdle that was sae braw. 

22 You coudna see her fingers white. 
For gouden rings that was sae gryte. 

23 An by there came a harper fine. 
That harped to the king at dine. 

24 When he did look that lady upon, 
He sighd and made a heavy moan. 

25 He 's taen three locks o her yallow hair, 
An wi them strung his harp sae fair. 

.26 The first tune he did play and sing. 
Was, ' Farewell to my father the king.' 

27 The nextin tune that he playd syne, 
Was, ' Farewell to my mother the queen.' 

28 The lasten tune that he playd then, 
Was, ' Wae to my sister, fair Ellen.' 



Scott's Minstrelsy, 1802, ii, 143. Componnded from B b 
and a fragment of fourteen stanzas transcribed from the 
recitation of an old woman by Miss Charlotte Brooke. 

1 There were two sisters sat in a hour ; 

Binnorie, O Binnorie 
There came a knight to be their wooer. 
By the bonny mill-dams of Binnorie 

2 He courted the eldest with glove and ring, 
But he loed the youngest aboon a' thing. 

14 * Your cherry cheeks and your yellow hair 
Garrd me gang maiden evermair.' 

15 Sometimes she sunk, and sometimes she swam, 
UntU she came to the miller's dam. 

16 ' father, father, draw your dam. 

There 's either a mermaid or a milk-white 

17 The miUer hasted and drew his dam, 
And there he found a drowned woman. 

3 He courted the eldest with broach and knife, 
But he loed the youngest aboon his life. 

4 The eldest she was vexed sair, 
And sore envied her sister fair. 

5 The eldest said to the youngest ane, 

* Will ye go and see our father's ships come 

6 She 's taen her by the lilly hand, 
And led her down to the river strand. 

7 The youngest stude upon a stane, 
The eldest came and pushed her in. 

8 She took her by the middle sma. 

And dashed her bonnie back to the jaw. 

9 * sister, sister, reach your hand. 
And ye shall be heir of half my land.' 

10 ' O sister, I '11 not reach my hand. 
And I '11 be heir of all your land. 

11 ' Shame fa the hand that I should take. 
It 's twin'd me and my world's make.' 

12 ' O sister, reach me but your glove. 
And sweet William shall be your love.' 

13 ' Sink on, nor hope for hand or glove. 
And sweet William shall better be my love. 

18 You could not see her yellow hair. 

For gowd and pearls that were sae rare. 

19 You could na see her middle sma. 
Her gowden girdle was sae bra. 

20 A famous harper passing by. 

The sweet pale face he chanced to spy. 

21 And when he looked that ladye on. 
He sighed and made a heavy moan. 

22 He made a harp of her breast-bone. 
Whose soimds would melt a heart of stone. 

23 The strings he framed of her yellow hair. 
Whose notes made sad the listening ear. 

24 He brought it to her father's hall, 
And there was the court assembled all. 

25 He laid this harp upon a stone. 
And straight it began to play alone. 

26 ' O yonder sits my father, the king. 
And yonder sits my mother, the queen. 

27 ' And yonder stands my brother Hugh, 
And by him my William, sweet and true.' 

28 But the last tune that the harp playd then, 
Was ' Woe to my sister, false Helen ! ' 




Kinloch's MSB, ii, 49. From the recitation of Mrs John- 
ston, a North-country lady. 

1 Thkre lived three sisters in a bouer, 

Edinbruch, Edinbruch 
There lived three sisters in a bouer, 

Stirling for aye 
There lived three sisters in a bouer, 
The youngest was the sweetest flowr. 

Bonnie St Johnston stands upon Tay 

2 There cam a knicht to see them a'. 
And on the youngest his love did fa. 

3 He brought the eldest ring and glove, 
But the youngest was his ain true-love. 

4 He brought the second sheath and knife, 
But the youngest was to be his wife. 

5 The eldest sister said to the youngest ane, 

' Will ye go and see our father's ships come 

6 And as they walked by the linn. 
The eldest dang the youngest in. 

7 ' O sister, sister, tak my hand, 
And ye '11 be heir to a' my land.' 

8 ' Foul fa the hand that I wad take. 
To twin me o my warld's make.' 

9 ' sister, sister, tak my glove. 
And yese get Willie, my true-love.' 

10 ' Sister, sister, I '11 na tak your glove. 
For I '11 get Willie, your true-love.' 

11 Aye she swittert, and aye she swam, 
Till she cam to yon bonnie mill-dam. 

12 The miller's dochter cam out wi speed, 
It was for water, to bake her bread. 

13 ' O father, father, gae slack your dam ; 
There 's in 't a lady or a milk-white swan.' 

* * * # * 

14 They could na see her coal-black eyes 
For her yellow locks hang oure her brees. 

15 They could na see her weel-made middle 
For her braid gowden girdle. 


16 And by there cam an auld blind fiddler, 

And took three tets o her bonnie yellow 

* ■* * * * » 

17 The first spring that the bonnie fiddle playd, 
' Hang my cruel sister, Alison,' it said. 


Sharpe's Ballad Book, No 10, p. 30. 

1 There livd twa sisters in a bower, 

Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch ! 
There lived twa sisters in a bower, 

Stirling for aye ! 
The youngest o them O she was a flower ! 

Bonny Sanct Johnstoune that stands upon 
Tay ! 

2 There cam a squire frae the west. 

He loed them baith, but the youngest best. 

3 He gied the eldest a gay gold ring, 

But he loed the youngest aboon a' thing. 

4 ' sister, sister, wiU ye go to the sea ? 
Our father's ships sail bonnilie.' 


5 The youngest sat down upon a stane ; 
The eldest shot the yoimgest in. 

6 ' sister, sister, lend me your hand. 
And you shall hae my gouden fan. 

7 * O sister, sister, save my life, 
And ye shall be the squire's wife.' 

8 First she sank, and then she swam, 
UntiU she cam to Tweed mill-dam. 

9 The millar's daughter was baking bread. 
She went for water, as she had need. 

10 ' O father, father, in our mUl-dam 

There 's either a lady, or a milk-white swan.' 



11 They could nae see her fingers small, 
Wi diamond rings they were coverd all. 

12 They could nae see her yellow hair, 
Sae mony knots and platts were there. 

13 They could nae see her liUy feet. 
Her gowden fringes war sae deep. 

14 Bye there cam a fiddler fair, 

And he 's taen three taits o her yellow hair. 

Motherwell's MS., p. 383. From the recitation of Agnes 
Lyle, Kilbarchan, 27th July, 1825. 

1 There was two ladies livd in a bower. 

Hey with a gay and a grinding O 
The youngest o them was the fairest flower 
About a' the bonny bows o London. 

2 There was two ladies livd in a bower, 
An wooer unto the youngest did go. 

3 The oldest one to the youngest did say, 
' Will ye take a walk with me today. 

And we '11 view the bonny bows o Lon- 

4 * Thou '11 set thy foot whare I set mine, 
Thou 'U set thy foot upon this stane.' 

5 ' I '11 set my foot where thou sets thine : ' 
The old sister dang the youngest in, 

At, etc. 

6 ' O sister dear, come tak my hand. 
Take my life safe to dry land,' 

At, etc. 

7 ' It 's neer by my hand thy hand sail come in, 
It 's neer by my hand thy hand saU come in, 

At, etc. 

8 ' It 's thy cherry cheeks and thy white briest 

Grars me set a maid owre lang at hame.' 

9 She clasped her hand[8] about a brume rute. 
But her cruel sister she lowsed them out. 

10 Sometimes she sank, and sometimes she swam, 
TiU she cam to the miller's dam. 

11 The mUler's bairns has muckle need. 

They were bearing in water to bake some 

12 Says, ' Father, dear father, in our mill-dam. 
It 's either a fair maid or a milk-white swan.' 

13 The miller he 's spared nae his hose nor his 

Till he brocht this lady till dry land. 

14 I wad he saw na a bit o her feet. 
Her silver slippers were made so neat. 

15 I wad he saw na a bit o her skin. 
For ribbons there was mony a ane. 

16 He laid her on a brume buss to dry. 

To see wha was the first wad pass her by. 

17 Her ain father's herd was the first man 
That by this lady gay did gang. 

18 He 's taen three links of her yellow hair, 
And made it a string to his fiddle there. 

19 He 's cut her fingers long and small 
To be fiddle-pins that neer might fail. 

20 The very first spring that the fiddle did play, 
' Hang my auld sister,' I wad" it did say. 

21 ' For she drowned me in yonder sea, 
God neer let her rest till she shall die,' 

At the bonny bows o London. 




Motherwell's MS., p. 104. From Mrs King, Kilbarchan. 

1 There were three sisters lived in a bouir, 
Hech, hey, my Nannie O 
And the youngest was the fairest flouir. 
And the swan swims bonnie 

7 ' O sister, sister, tak me by the gluve, 
An ye '11 get WiUy, my true luve.' 

8 She had a switch iato her hand, 
And ay she drave her frae the land. 

9 whiles she sunk, and whiles she swam. 
Until she swam to the miUer's dam. 

2 ' sister, sister, gang down to yon sand. 

And see your father's ships coming to dry 10 The miller's daughter gade doun to Tweed, 


3 O they have gane down to yonder sand, 

To see their father's ships coming to dry land. 

4 ' Gae set your fit on yonder stane. 
Till I tye up your silken goun.' 

5 She set her fit on yonder stane. 

And the auldest drave the youngest in. 

6 ' O sister, sister, tak me by the hand, 
And ye 'U get a' my father's land. 

To carry water to bake her bread. 

11 ' father, father, what 's yon in the dam ? 
It 's either a maid or a milk-white swan.' 

12 They have tane her out tiU yonder thorn. 
And she has lain tiU Monday mom. 

13 She hadna, hadna twa days lain, 
TiU by there came a harper fine. 

14 He made a harp o her breast-bane, 
That he might play forever thereon. 


Motherwell's MS., p. 147. From I. Goldie, March, 1825. 

1 There were three sisters lived in a hall, 

Hey with the gay and the grandeur O 
And there came a lord to court them aU. 
At the bonnie bows o London town 

2 He courted the eldest with a penknife. 
And he vowed that he would take her life. 

3 He courted the yoimgest with a glove. 
And he said that he 'd be her true love. 

4 ' O sister, O sister, wiU you go and take a walk, 
And see our father's ships how they float ? 

5 ' lean your foot upon the stone, 
And wash your hand in that sea-foam.' 

6 She leaned her foot upon the stone, 

But her eldest sister has tumbled her down. 

7 ' O sister, sister, give me your hand. 
And I 'U make you lady of all my land.' 

8 ' O I '11 not lend to you my hand. 
But I 'U be lady of your land.' 

9 ' O sister, sister, give me your glove, 
And I '11 make you lady of my true love.' 

10 * It 's I 'U not lend to you my glove, 
But I 'U be lady of your true love.' 

11 Sometimes she sank, and sometimes she swam, 
Until she came to a miller's dam. 

12 The miller's daughter was coming out wi 

For water for to bake some bread. 

13 ' father, father, stop the dam. 

For it 's either a lady or a milk-white swan.' 

14 He dragged her out vmto the shore, 
And stripped her of all she wore. 

15 By cam a fiddler, and he was fair. 

And he buskit his bow in her bonnie yellow 



16 By cam her father's harper, and he was fine, 
And he made a harp o her bonny breast-bone. 

17 When they came to her father's court, 
The harp [and fiddle these words] spoke : 

18 ' God bless my father the king. 

And I wish the same to my mother the queen. 

19 ' My sister Jane she tumbled me in, 

* * * * * 

Kinloch MSS, v, 425. From the recitation of M. Kin- 
near, 23d August, 1826. 

1 There war twa sisters lived in a bouer, 
Binnorie and Binnorie 
There cam a squire to court them baith. 
At the bonnie mill-streams o Binnorie 

6 As they walked up the linn, 
The eldest dang the youngest in. 

7 ' sister, sister, tak my hand, 

And ye '11 hae Lud John and aw his land.' 

8 With a silver wand she pushd her in, 

2 He courted the eldest with jewels and rings, 
But he lovd the youngest the best of all 


3 He courted the eldest with a penknife, 
He lovd the youngest as dear as his life. 

4 It fell ance upon a day 

That these twa sisters hae gane astray. 

5 It was for to meet their father's ships that had 

come in. 

9 ' O sister, sister, tak my glove. 
And ye sail hae my ain true love.' 

10 The miller's dochter cam out wi speed. 
It was for a water to bake her bread. 

11 ' O father, father, gae slack your dam ; 
There 's either a white fish or a swan.' 

* * * # * 

12 Bye cam a blind fiddler that way, 

And he took three tets o her bonnie yellow hair. 

13 And the first spring that he playd. 

It said, ' It was my sister threw me in.' 

Notes and Queries, 4th S., v, 23, from the north of Ire- 

1 There were two ladies playing ball, 
Hey, ho, my Nannie O 
A great lord came to court them all. 
The swan she does swim bonnie O 

2 He gave to the first a golden ring. 

He gave to the second a far better thing. 

^ -)v TV tP "ff 

3 He made a harp of her breast-bone 

4 He set it down upon a stone, 
And it began to play its lone. 

Mr G. R. Kinloch's papere, Kinloch MSS, ii, 59. From 
Mrs Lindores. 

1 ' SISTER, sister, gie me your hand, 
Biimorie and Binnorie 

And I '11 give the half of my fallow-land. 
By the bonnie mill-dams of Binnorie.' 
2 The first time the bonnie fiddle played, 

' Hang my sister, Alison,' it said, 

* At the bonnie mill-dams of Binnorie.* 



a. FroTTi oral tradition, Notes and Queries, 1st S., v, 316. 
b. The Scouring of the White Horse, p. 161. From North 

1 O "WAS it eke a pheasant cock, 

Or eke a pheasant hen, 
Or was it the bodye of a fair ladye, 
Come swimming down the stream? 

2 it was not a pheasant cock, 

Nor eke a pheasant hen, 
But it was the bodye of a fair ladye 
Came swimming down the stream. 
* * * # * 

3 And what did he do with her fair bodye ? 

Fal the lal the lal laral lody 
He made it a case for his melodye. 
Fal, etc. 

4 And what did he do with her legs so strong ? 
He made them a stand for his violon. 

5 And what did he do with her hair so fine ? 
He made of it strings for his violine. 

6 And what did he do with her arms so long ? 
He made them bows for his violon. 

7 And what did he do with her nose so thin ? 
He made it a bridge for his violin. 

8 And what did he do with her eyes so bright ? 
He made them spectacles to put to his sight. , 

9 And what did he do with her petty toes ? 

He made them a nosegay to put to his 


Taken down from recitation at Old Deir, 1876, by Mrs 
A. F. Murison. MS., p. 79. 

1 There lived twa sisters in yonder ha, 

Bindrie an Bindrie 
They hadna but ae lad atween' them twa, 
He 's the bonnie mUler lad o Bindrie. 

2 It fell oot upon a day. 

The auldest ane to the youngest did say. 
At the bonnie mUl-dams o Bindrie, 

3 ' O sister, sister, will ye go to the dams. 
To hear the blackbird thrashin oer his songs ? 

At the,' etc. 

4 ' O sister, sister, will ye go to the dams, 

To see oor father's fish-boats come safe to dry 
An the bonnie miUer lad o Binorie.' 

6 They hadna been an oor at the dams, 

Till they heard the blackbird thrashin oer his 
At the, etc. 

6 They hadna been an oor at the dams 

Till they saw their father's fish-boats come safe 
to dry Ian, 
Bat they sawna the bonnie miller laddie. 

7 They stood baith up upon a stane. 

An the eldest ane dang the youngest in, 
I the, etc. 

8 She swam up, an she swam doon, 

An she swam back to her sister again, 
I the, etc. 

9 ' sister, O sister, len me your han, 
An yes be heir to my true love, 

He 's the bonnie miller lad o Binorie.' 

10 ' It was not for that love at I dang you in, 
But ye was fair and I was din. 

And yes droon i the dams o Binorie.' 

11 The miUer's daughter she cam oot. 
For water to wash her father's bans, 

Frae the, etc. 

12 ' O father, O father, ye will fish your dams, 
An ye 'U get a white fish or a swan, 

I the,' etc. 

13 They fished up and they fished doon. 

But they got nothing but a droonet woman, 
I the, etc. 

14 Some o them kent by her skin sae fair. 
But weel kent he by her bonnie yallow hair 

She 's the bonnie miller's lass o Binorie. 



15 Some o them kent by her goons o silk, 
But weel kent he by her middle sae jimp, 
She 's the bonnie miller's lass o Binorie. 

16 Mony ane was at her oot-takin, 

But mony ane mair at her green grave makin, 
At the boimy miU-dams o Binorie. 


[Pinkerton's] Scottish Tragic Ballads, p. 72. 

1 There were twa sisters livd in a bouir, 

Binnorie, O Binnorie 
Their father was a baron of pouir. 
By the bonnie mUdams of Binnorie 

2 The youngest was meek, and fair as the may 
Whan she springs in the east wi the gowden day. 

3 The eldest austerne as the winter cauld, 
Ferce was her saul, and her seiming was baold. 

4 A gallant squire cam sweet Isabel to wooe ; 
Her sister had naething to luve I trow. 

5 But filld was she wi dolour and ire, 
To see that to her the comlie squire 

6 Preferd the debonair Isabel : 

Their hevin of luve of spyte was her hell. 

7 Till ae ein she to her sister can say, 

' Sweit sister, cum let us wauk and play.' 

8 They wauked up, and they wauked down, 
Sweit sang the birdis in the vallie loun. 

9 Whan they cam to the roaring lin. 
She drave unweiting Isabel in. 

10 ' sister, sister, tak ray hand. 
And ye sail hae my silver fan. 

11 ' O sister, sister, tak my middle. 
And ye sail hae my gowden girdle.' 

12 Sumtimes she sank, sumtimes she swam, 
TiU she cam to the mUler's dam. 

13 The miller's dochtor was out that ein. 
And saw her rowing down the streim. 

14 ' father deir, in your mil-dam 

There is either a lady or a milk-white swan ! ' 

1.5 Twa days were gane, whan to her deir 
Her wraith at deid of nicht cold appeir. 

16 ' My luve, my deir, how can ye sleip, 
Whan your Isabel lyes in the deip ! 

1 7 ' My deir, how can ye sleip bot pain 
Whan she by her cruel sister is slain ! ' 

18 Up raise he sune, in frichtfu mude: 

' Busk ye, my meiny, and seik the flude.' 

19 They socht her up and they socht her doun. 
And spyd at last her glisterin gown. 

20 They raisd her wi richt meikle care ; 

Pale was her cheik and grein was her hair. 

a. Bnchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, ii, 128. 
b. Traditional Ballad Airs, edited by W. Christie, i, 42. 

1 There were twa sisters in a bower. 

Hey wi the gay and the grinding 
And ae king's son has courted them baith. 
At the bonny bonny bows o London 

2 He courted the youngest wi broach and ring, 
He courted the eldest wi some other thing. 

3 It fell ance upon a day 

The eldest to the youngest did say, 

4 ' Will ye gae to yon Tweed miU-dam, 
And see our father's ships come to land ? ' 

6 They baith stood up upon a stane. 
The eldest dang the youngest in. 

6 She swimmed up, sae did she down. 
Till she came to the Tweed mill-dam. 

7 The miller's servant he came out, 
And saw the lady floating about. 

8 ' master, master, set your mill. 
There is a fish, or a milk-white swan.' 



9 They could not ken her yellow hair, 

[For] the scales o gowd that were laid there. 

10 They could not ken her fingers sae white, 
The rings o gowd they were sae bright. 

11 They could not ken her middle sae jimp, 
The stays o gowd were so well laced. 

12 They could not ken her foot sae fair, 
The shoes o gowd they were so rare. 

13 Her father's fiddler he came by, 
Upstarted her ghaist before his eye. 

14 ' Ye '11 take a lock o my yellow hair. 

Ye '11 make a string to your fiddle there. 

15 ' Ye '11 take a lith o my little finger bane. 
And ye '11 make a pin to your fiddle then.' 

16 He 's taen a lock o her yeUow hair, 
And made a string to his fiddle there. 

17 He 's taen a lith o her little finger bane, 
And he 's made a pin to his fiddle then. 

18 The firstand spring the fiddle did play. 

Said, ' Ye 'U drown my sister, as she 's dune 

a. Motherwell's MS.j p. 245. b. Motherwell's Minstrelsy, 
Appendix, p. xx, xx. 

1 There were twa ladies in a bower, 

Hey my bonnie Nannie O 
• The old was black and the young ane fair. 
And the swan swims bomiie 

2 Once it happened on a day 

The auld ane to the young did say, 

3 The auld ane to the young did say, 

' Will you gae to the green and play ? ' 

4 ' O sister, sister, I daurna gang. 
For fear I file my silver shoon.' 

5 It was not to the green they gaed. 
But it was to the water of Tweed. 

6 She bowed her back and she 's taen her on. 
And she 's tumbled her in Tweed mill-dam. 

7 ' O sister, O sister, tak my hand. 
And I '11 mak you heir of a' my land.' 

8 ' sister, sister, I 'U no take your hand, 
And I '11 be heir of a' your land.' 

9 ' sister, O sister, tak my thumb. 
And I 'U give you my true-love John.' 

10 ' sister, O sister, I '11 no tak your thumb. 
And J will get your true-love John.' 

11 Aye she swattered and aye she swam. 
Until she came to the mouth of the dam. 

12 The miller's daughter went out to Tweed, 
To get some water to bake her bread. 

13 In again she quickly ran : 

' Here 's a lady or a swan in our mill-dam.' 

14 Out went the miller and his man 
And took the lady out of the dam. 

15 They laid her on the brae to dry ; 
Her father's fiddler then rode by. 

16 When he this lady did come near, 
Her ghost to him then did appear. 

17 ' When you go to my father the king. 
You '11 teU him to burn my sister Jean. 

18 ' When you go to my father's gate. 

You 'U play a spring for fair Ellen's sake. 

19 ' You 'U tak three links of my yellow hair, 
And play a spring for evermair.' 




Copied Oct. 26, 1861, by J. F. Campbell, Esq., from a col- 
lection made by Lady Caroline Murray ; traced by her to an 
old nurse, and beyond the beginning of this century. 

1 There dwelt twa sisters in a bower, 
Oh and ohone, and ohone and aree ! 
And the youngest she was the fairest flower. 
On the banks of the Banna, ohone and 

2 There cam a knight to court the twa, 
But on the youngest his love did fa. 

3 He courted the eldest with ring and wi glove. 
But he gave the youngest all his love. 

4 He courted the eldest with brooch and wi 

But he loved the youngest as his life. 

5 ' O sister, sister, wiU ye come to the stream, 
To see our father's ships come in ? ' 

6 The youngest stood upon a stane. 
Her sister came and pusht her in. 

7 ' sister, sister, come reach me your hand. 
And ye shall hae aU our father's land. 

9 ' I did not put you in with the design 
Just for to pull you out again.' 

10 Some time she sank, some time she swam, 
UntU she came to a miller's dam. 

11 The miller's daughter dwelt on the Tweed, 
She went for water to bake her bread. 

12 ' O faither, faither, come drag me your dam. 
For there 's aither a lady in 't, or a milk-white 


13 The miller went, and he dragd his dam, 
And he brought her fair body to Ian. 

14 They couldna see her waist sae sma 
For the goud and sUk about it a'. 

15 They couldna see her yaUow hair 

For the pearls and jewels that were there. 

16 Then up and spak her ghaist sae green, 
' Do ye no ken the king's dochter Jean ? 

17 ' Tak my respects to my father the king. 
And likewise to my mother the queen. 

18 ' Tak my respects to my true love William, 
Tell him I deid for the love of him. 

8 ' sister, O sister, come reach me your glove, 

And you shall hae William to be your true 19 ' Carry him a lock of my yaUow hair, 
love.' To bind his heart for evermair.' 


a. Notes and Queries, Ist S., vi, 102, from Lancashire. 
b. Written down for J. F. Campbell, Esq., Nov. 7, 1861, at 
i.LtU'u Wishaw House, Lancashire, by Lady Louisa Primrose, c. 
' The Scouring of the White Horse,' p. 158, from Berk- 
shire, as heard by Mr Hughes from his father. 

1 There was a king of the north countree, 
''J Bow down, bow down, bow down 

' There was a king of the north countree, 

And he had daughters one, two, three. 

I '11 be true to my love, and my love '11 be 
true to me 

2 To the eldest he gave a beaver^hat, 

And the youngest she thought much of that. 

3 To the youngest he gave a gay gold chain, 
And the eldest she thought much of the same. 

4 These sisters were walking on the bryn, 
And the elder pushed the younger in. 

5 ' Oh sister, oh sister, oh lend me your hand, 
And I wiU give you both houses and land.' 

6 * I '11 neither give y9u my hand nor glove, 
Unless you give me your true love.' 

7 Away she sank, away she swam. 
Until she came to a miller's dam. 

8 The miller and daughter stood at the door, 
And watched her floating down the shore. 



9 ' Oh father, oh father, I see a white swan, / 
Or else it is a fair woman.' a/ ' 

10 The miller he took up his long crook, 

And the maiden up from the stream he took. 

11 ' I '11 give to thee this gay gold chain, 

If you 'U take me back to my father again.' 

12 The miUer he took the gay gold chain. 
And he pushed her into the water again. 

13 The miller was hanged on his high gate 
For drowning our poor sister Kate. 

j ^fU 

14 The cat 's behind the buttery shelf. 

If you want any more, you may sing it your- 

Kinloch MSB, vi, 89, in Kinloch's hand. 

* " * * # # 

1 ' FATHER, father, swims a swan,' 

This story I '11 vent to thee 

' father, father, swims a swan, 

Unless it be some dead woman.' 

I '11 prove true to my true love. 

If my love prove true to me 

2 The miller he held out his long fish hook, 
And hooked this fair maid from the brook. 

3 She offered the miller a gold ring stane 
To throw her into the river again. 

4 Down she sunk, and away she swam, 
Until she came to her father's brook. 

6 The miller was hung at his mill-gate, 
For drowning of my sister Kate. 

Allingham's Ballad Book, p. xxxiii. From Ireland. 
' Sister, dear sister, where shall we go play ? ' 

Cold blows the wind, and the wind blows 
We shall go to the salt sea's brim.' 
And the wind blows cheerily around us, high 


Communicated by Mr W. W. Newell, as repeated by an 
ignorant woman in her dotage, who learned it at Hunting- 
ton, Long Island, N. Y. 

1 There was a man lived in the mist. 
Bow down, bow down 
He loved his youngest daughter best. 
The bow is bent to me. 
So you be true to your own true love. 
And I '11 be true to thee. 

2 These two sisters went out to swim ; 
The oldest pushed the youngest in. 

3 First she sank and then she swam. 
First she sank and then she swam. 

4 The miller, with his rake and hook. 
He caught her by the petticoat. 

A. b. 1^. went a-playing. 
Burden^ a downe-o. 
c. 1^. went arplaying. 

Burden ^' *. With a hey down, down, a down, 


4". Till oat-meal and salt grow both on a 

6^. ran hastily down the clift. 
6^. And up he took her without any life. 
13=^. Moll Symns. 



14', 15^ Then he bespake. 
17*. And let him go i the devil's name. 
d. 1'. went Brplaying. 1". ships sailing in. 
2\ into. 
3'. me up on. 
6^ withouten life. 
B. a. 26, 27, 28. An it has been written in as a 
conjectural emendation by Jamieson, he did it 

play, > playd ; and it is adopted by Jami&- 

son in his printed copy : see below, d 26, 27, 28. 
b. The first stanza only, agreeing with b.1, is 
given by Anderson, Nichols's Illustrations, 
VII, 178. 

o. Evidently a copy of Mrs Brown's version, 
and in Scott's MS. it has the air, as all the 
Tytler-Brown ballads had. Still it has but 
twenty-three stanzas, whereas Dr Anderson 
gives fifty-eight lines as the extent of the Tyt- 
ler-Brown copy of '■The Cruel Sister ' (Nichols, 
nius. Lit. Hist., VII, 178). This, counting 
the first stanza, with the burden, as four lines, 
according to the arrangement in Scott's MS., 
would tally exactly with the Jamiesoip-Brown 
MS., B a. 

It would seem that B c had been altered by 
somebody in order to remove the absurd comrv- 
bination of sea and mill-dam ; the invitation 
to go see the ships come to land, "B & 7, is 
omitted, and " the deep mill-dam " substituted, 
in 8, for " yon searstran." Stanza 17 of c, 
" They raisd her," etc., cited below, occurs in 
Pinkerton, N 20, and is more likely to be his 
than anybody's. 

2'. brooch and ring. 2^. abune a' thing. 

3^. wooed . . . with glove and knife. 

3^^. looed the second. 

5^^. she well nigh brist. 

7. wanting. 

8**. led her to the deep miU-dam. 
■ 9*. Her cruel sister pushd her in. 

11^ And Ise mak ye. 

12. wanting. 

14^. Shame fa the hand that I shall tak. 

15^. gowden hair. 15*. gar . . . maiden 
ever mair. 

16. wanting. 

17'. Then out and cam. 17^. swimming 

18'. O father, haste and draw. 

19'. his dam. 19". And then. (?) 

Instead of 20-2.2: 

They raisd her wi meikle dule and care. 
Pale was her cheek and green was her hair. 

24'. that corpse upon. 

25^^. he 's strung. 

26', 27', 28', /or tune, line, if the copy be 

27'. The next. 28'. The last. 28". fause 

" Note by Ritson. ' The fragment of a very 
different copy of this ballad has been com- 
municated to J. R. by a friend at Dub- 
lin.' " [J. C. Walker, no doubt.} 
d. Jamieson, Popular Ballads and Songs, i, 
48, says that he gives his text verbatim as it 
was taken from the recitation of dhe lady in 
Fifeshire {Mrs Brown), to whom both he and 
Scott were so much indebted. That this is 
not to be understood with absolyfe strictness 
will appear from the variations which are sub- 
joined. Jamieson adds that he had received 
another copy from MrsArrott of Aberbrothick, 
" but as it furnished no readings by which the 
text could have been materially improved," it 
was not used. Both Jamieson and Scott sub- 
stitute the " Binnorie " burden, " the most com- 
mon and popular," says Scott, for the one given 
by Mrs Brown, with which Mrs Arrott's 
agreed. It may be added that Jamieson' s in- 
terpolations are stanzas 20, 21, 27, etc., and 
not, as he says (i, 49), 19, 20, 27, etc. These 
interpolations also occur as such in the manu- 

1'. sisters livd. 

2\ aboon. 

3^ he loved. 

4'. and sair envied. 

5'. Intill her bower she coudna. 

5*. maistly brast. 

11^ mak ye. 

14"^. me o. 

16'. omits an. 

16*. came to the mouth o yon mill-dam. 

18". There 's. 

20". that was. 

22". that were. 

26'. it did. 

27'. it playd seen. 

28'. thirden tune that it. 
A copy in Motherwell's MS., p. 239, is de- 
rived from Jamieson's printed edition. It 

ondts the interpolated stanzas, and makes a 
few very slight changes. 



C. Scott's account of his edition is as follows ,(ii, 
143, later ed., iii, 287) : 

" It is compiled from a copy in Mrs Brown's 
MS., intermixed with a beautiful fragment, 
of fourteen verses, transmitted to the editor 
by J. C. Walker, Esq., the ingenious his- 
torian of the Irish bards. Mr Walker, at 
the same time, favored the editor with the 
following note : ' I am indebted to my de- 
parted friend, Miss Brooke, for the foregoing 
pathetic fragment. Her account of it was as 
follows : This song was transcribed, several 
years ago, from the memory of an old woman, 
who had no recollection of the concluding 
verses ; probably the beginning may also be 
lost, as it seems to commence abruptly.' The 
first verse and burden of the fragment run 
thus : 

, " * O sister, sister, reach thy hand ! 

Hey ho, my Nanny, O 
And you shall be heir of all my land. 
While the swan swims bonny, O ' " 

Out of this stanza, or the corresponding 
one in Mrs Brown's copy, Scott seems to 
have made his 9, 10. 
" My mother used to sing this song." Sharpe's 
BaUad Book, ed. of 1880, note, p. 129. 
2^. An wooer. 

2^. strand, with sand written above : sand in 3^. 
1\ var. in MS. There was a knicht and he 

loved them bath. 
7. The following stanza was subsequently writ- 
ten on an opposite blank page, — perhaps de- 
rived from D 8 : 



Fold fa the hand that I wad take. 
To twin me and my warld's make. 

10^. a was, perhaps, Tneant to be expunged, 

but is only a little blotted. 
11^ var. a lady or a milk-white swan. 
12, 13 were written in later than the rest ; at 

the same time, apparently, as the stanza 

above (7). 
Found among Mr Kinloch's papers by Mr 
Macmath, and inserted by him as a note on 
p. 59, vol. II, of Kinloch's MSS. The order 
of the stanzas is there, wrongly, inverted. 
1^. var. I wad give you. 

a. These fragments were communicated to 
Notes and Queries, April 3, 1852, by " G. A. 

C," who had heard 'The Miller's Melody' 
sung by an old lady in his childhood, and who 
represents himself as probably the last sur- 
vivor of those who had enjoyed the privilege 
of listening to her ballads. We may, thercr 
fore, assign this version to the latter part of 
the l^th century. The two four-line stanzas 
were sung to " a slow, quaint strain." Two 
others which followed were not remembered, 
" but their purport was that the body ' stopped 
hard by a miller's mill,' and that this ' mil- 
ler chanced to come by,' and took it out of 
the water ' to make a melodye.' " G. A. C. 
goes on to say : "■ My venerable friend's tune 
here became a more lively one, ana the time 
quicker ; but I can only recollect a few of the 
couplets, and these not correctly nor in order 
of sequence, in which the transformation of 
the lady into a viol is described." 
b. Soms stanzas of this four-line version, with 
a ludicrous modem supplement, are given in 
' The Scouring of the White Horse,' p. 161, as 
from the Welsh marshes. Five out of the first 
six verses are there said to be very old indeed, 
" the rest aU patchwork by different hands." 
Mr Hughes has kindly informed me that lie 
derived the ballad from his father, who had 
originally learned it at Ruthyn when a boy. 
What is material here follows : 

1 O it was not a pheasant cock, 

Nor yet a pheasant hen. 
But O it was a lady fair 

Came swimming down the stream. 

2 An ancient harper passing by 

Found this poor lady's body. 
To which his pains he did apply 
To make a sweet melody. 

3 To cat-gut dried he her inside, 

He drew out her back-bone. 
And made thereof a fiddle sweet 
All for to play upon. 

4 And all her hair, so long and fair, 

That down her back did flow, 
he did lay it up with care, 
To string his fiddle bow. 

5 And what did he with her fingers, 

Which were so straight and small ? 



he did cut them into pegs, 
To screw up his fiddoll. 

6 Then forth went he, as it might he, 

Upon a summer's day. 
And met a goodly company. 
Who asked him in to play. 

7 Then from her bones he drew such tones 

As made their bones to ache, 
They sounded so like human groans 
Their hearts began to quake. 

8 They ordered him in ale to swim, — 

For sorrow 's mighty dry, — 
And he to share their wassail fare 
;fissayd right willingly. 

9 He laid his fiddle on a shelf 

In that old manor-hall. 
It played and simg all by itself, 
And thus simg this fiddoU : 

10 ' There sits the squire, my worthy sire, 
A-drinking.hisself drunk,' etc., etc. 

N. Pinkerton tells tis, in the Preface to his An- 
cient Scottish Poems, p. cxccxi, that " Binnorie 
is one half from tradition, one half by the ed- 
itor," One fourth and three fourths would 
have been a more exact apportionment. The 
remainder of his text, which is wholly of his 
invention, is as follows : 

' Gae saddle to me my swiftest steid ; 

Her fere, by my fae, for her dethe sail bleid.' 

A page cam rinning out owr the lie : 

' O heavie tydings I bring,' quoth he. 

' My luvely lady is far awa gane ; 

We weit the fairy hae her tane. 

Her sister gaed wood wi dnle and rage ; 

Nocht cold we do her mind to suage. 

" O Isabel, my sister," she wold cry, 

" For thee will I weip, for thee will I die." 

Till late yestrene, in an elric hour. 

She lap frae aft the hichest touir.' 

' Now sleip she in peace,' quoth the gallant squire ; 

' Her dethe was the maist that I cold require. 

But I '11 main for the, my Isabel deir. 

Fall mony a dreiry day, bot weir.' 

20. This stanza occurs also in B c (17), and 

was perhaps borrowed from Pinkerton by 

the reviser of that copy. 

O. a. Buchan's note, ii, 320 : "I have seen four 

or five different versions of this baUad, but 

none in this dress, nor with the same chorus. . . • 

The old woman from whose recitation I took it 

down says she had heard another way of it, quite 
local, whose burden runs thus : 

* Ever into Buchanshire, vari vari 0.' " 

I'', hae courted. 

b. Mr Christie has "epitomized" Buchan's 
copy (omitting stanzas 9-12), with these few 
slight alterations from the singing of a Banff- 
shire woman, who died in 1860, at the age of 
nearly eighty : 
Burden : It 's hey, etc. 
2^. And he courted the eldest wi mony other 

3^ But it fell. 
5^^. And the eldest. 
P. b. This stanza only : 

There livd twa sisters in a bower, 
Hey my bonnie Annie O 

There cam a lover them to woo. • 

And the swan swims bonnie 0, 
And the swan swims bonnie O 

Q. The burden is given thus in Pop. Tales of the 
West Highlands, iv, 125 : 

Oh ochone, ochone a rie. 

On the banks of the Banna, ochone a rie. 

R. a. The title ' The Three Sisters,' and perhaps 
the first stanza, belongs rather to No 1 A, B, 
p. 3f. 

b. 1. A farmer there lived in the north coun- 
Bo down 
And he had daughters one, two, three. 
And I '11 be true unto my love, if he '11 
be true unto me 

(Th^ burden is given as Bo down, bo down, 
etc., in Popular Tales of the West High- 
lands, IV, 125.) 

Between 1 and 2 b has : 

The eldest she had a lover come. 

And he fell in love with the younger one. 

He bought the younger a . . . 

The elder she thought . . . 
3. wanting. 

4}. The sisters they walkt by the river brim. 
6^. my true love. 



8. The miller's daughter was at the door, 
As sweet as any gillyflower. 

9. father, father, there swims a swain, 
And he looks like a gentleman. 

10. The miller he fetcht his line and hook, 

And he fisht the fair maiden out of the 

11^. O miller, I'll give you guineas ten, 

12. The miller he took her guineas ten, 
And then he popt her in again. 

13^. . . . behind his back gate, 
^. the farmer's daughter Kate. 

Instead of 14:'. 

The sister she sailed over the sea, 

And died an old maid of a hundred and three. 

The lover became a beggar man. 
And he drank, out of a rusty tin can. 

■ b 8, 11, 12, 14, 15 are cited in Popular Tales 
of the West Highlands, iv, 127. 

c. 1. A varmer he lived in the west countree, 

Hey-down, bow-down 
A varmer he lived in the west countree, 
And he had daughters one, two, and dree. 

And I 'U be true to my love, 

If my love 'U be tmie to me. 

2, 3. wanting. 

4^. As thay wur walking by the river's brim. 

5^. pray gee me thy hand. 

7^. So down she sank and away she swam. 

8. The miller's daughter stood by the door, 
As fair as any gilly-flower. 

9. here swims a swan. 

Very much like a drownded gentlewoman. 

10. The mUler he fot his pole and hook. 

And he fished the fair maid out of the 
11^. O mUler, I '11 gee thee guineas ten. 
12^^. pushed the fair maid in again. 
Between 12 and 13 c has, 

But the crowner he cum and the justice 

With a hue and a cry and a hullabaUoo. 

They hanged the miUer beside his own 

For drowning the varmer's daughter, Kate. 

Instead of 14 : 

The sister she fled beyond the seas, 

And died an old maid among black savagees. 

So I 've ended my tale of the west coun- 
And they calls it the Barkshire Tragedee. 

1\ MS. Or less (?). 

" Sung to a peculiar and beautiful air." Al- 
Ungham, p. xxxiii. 



A. ' [The] Cruel Brother, or the Bride's Testament.' F. ' The Three Knights,' Gilbert's Ancient Christmas 
a. Alex. Fraser Tytler's Brown MS. b. Jamieson's Carols, 2d ed,, p. 68. 

Popular Ballads, i, 66. 

G. ' Fine Flowers of the Valley.' a. Herd's MSS, i, 

B. The Kinloch MSS, i, 21. 41. b. Herd's Scottish Songs, 1776, i, 88. 

C. 'Ther waur three ladies,' Harris MS., p. 11 b. H. Fragment appended to G. 

D. a. Notes and Queries, 1st S., vi, 53. b. 2d S., v, I. The Kinloch MSS, i, 27. 

E. Notes and Queries, 4th S., v, 105, 

J. As current in County Meath, Ireland, about 1860. 
K. Notes and Queries, 4th S., iv, 517. 



A a was obtained directly from Mrs Brown 
of Falkland, in 1800, by Alexander Fraser 
Tytler. Jamieson says that he gives b ver- 
batim from the recitation of Mrs Arrott ; but 
it would seem that this must have been a slip 
of memory, for the two agree except in half a 
dozen words. B, C, I, J are now for the first 
time printed. G only was taken down earlier 
than the present century. 

Aytoun remarks (1858) : " This is, per- 
haps, the most popular of all the Scottish bal- 
lads, being commonly recited and sung even at 
the present day." The copy which he gives, 
I, 232, was " taken down fiom recitation," 
but is nevertheless a compound of G and A b, 
with a few unimportant variations, proceed- 
ing, no doubt, from imperfect recollection.* 
The copy in Dixon's Ancient Poems, Ballads, 
and Songs, p. 56, repeated in Bell's volume 
, of the same title, p. 50, is Gilbert's F. Dixon 
informs us that the ballad was (in 1846) still 
popular amongst the peasantry in the west of 
, England. Cunningham gives us a piece called 
' The Three Ladies of Leithan Ha,' Songs of 
Scotland, n, 87, which he would fain have us 
believe that he did not know he had written 
himself. " The common copies of this tragic 
lyric," he truly says, " differ very much from 
this ; not so much in the story itself as in the 
way it is told." 

All versions but K, which has pretty nearly 
lost all point, agree after the opening stanzas. 
A-B have three ladies and only one knight ; 
F has three knights and one lady ; G, I, J, K 
have three ladies and three knights [lords in 
G, " bonny boys " in I, the first line being 
caught from ' Sir Hugh.'] Three knights are 
to no purpose; only one knight has anything 
to do. The reason for three ladies is, of 
course, that the youngest may be preferred to 
the others, — an intention somewhat obscured 
in B. The ladies are in colors in B, C, I, J, 
and this seems to be the better interpretation 
in the case of G, though a strict construction 
of the language would rather point to the 
other. The colors are transferred to the 

* Aytoun, 1-8 = Herd, 1776, 1-8: 9-13 = Jamieson, 11- 
15: 14, 15= Herd, 11,12: 16, 17 = Jamieson, 18, 19 : 18, 
19 = Herd, 13, 14 : 20-24 = Jamieson, 21-25. 

knights in F because there is only one lady. 
In K this is a part of the general depravation 
of the ballad. 

' Rizzardo bello,' Wolf, Volkslieder aus Ve- 
netien. No 83, seems to be the same story, with 
a change of relations such as we often find 
in ballad poetry. Rizzardo is conducting his 
bride home, and on the way embraces and 
kisses her. Her brother witnesses " questo 
onore," and thrusts his sword into the happy 
bridegroom's heart. Rizzardo tells his bride 
to come on slowly ; he will go before to make 
preparation. He begs his mother to open the 
doors, for his bride is without, and he is 
wounded to death. They try to make the 
bride eat. She says she can neither eat nor 
drink : she must put her husband to bed. He 
gives her a ring, saying. Your brother has 
been the death of me ; then another ring, in 
sign that she is to be wife of two brothers. 
She answers him as Guldborg answers Ribold, 
that she would die rather: "Rather die be- 
tween two knives than be wife of two broth- 
This ballad was obtained from a peas- 


ant woman of Castagnero. Another version, 
which unfortunately is not printed, was sung 
by a woman at Ostiglia on the Po. 

Dr Prior remarks that the offence given by 
not asking a brother's assent to his sister's 
marriage was in ballad- times regarded as un- 
pardonable. Other cases which show the im- 
portance of this preliminary, and the some- 
times fatal consequences of omitting it, are : 
' Hr. Peder og Mettelille,' Grundtvig, No 78, 
II, 325, sts 4, 6 ; ' Jomfruen i Skoven,' Danske 
Viser, ni, 99, st. 15 ; ' Jomfru Ellensborg og 
Hr. Olof,' ib., ill, 316, st. 16 ; ' Iver Lang og 
hans Soster,' ib., iv, 87, st. 116 ; ' Herr Helmer 
Blaa,' ib., iv, 251, st. 8 ; ' Jomfru Giselmaar,' 
ib., IV, 309, st. 13. See Prior's Ancient Dan- 
ish Ballads, iii, 112, 232 f, 416. 

There is a very common German ballad, 
' Graf Friedrich,' in which a bride receives a 
mortal wound during the bringing-home, but 
accidentally, and from the bridegroom's hand. 
The marriage train is going up a hill; the way 
is narrow ; they are crowded ; Graf Friedrich's 
sword shoots from its sheath and wounds the 
bride. The bridegroom is exceedingly dis- 



tressed ; he tries to stop the bleeding with his 
shirt ; she begs that they may ride slowly. 
When they reach the house there is a splendid 
feast, and everything is set before the bride ; 
but she can neither eat nor drink, and only 
wishes to lie down. She dies in the night. 
Her father comes in the morning, and, learn- 
ing what has happened, runs Graf Friedrich 
through, then drags his body at a horse's heels, 
and buries it in a bog. Three lilies sprang 
from the spot, with an inscription announcing 
that Graf Friedrich was in heaven, and a voice 
came from the sky commanding that the body 
should be disinterred. The bridegroom was 
then buried with his bride, and this act of 
reparation was attended with other miracu- 
lous manifestations. As the ballads stand 
now, the kinship of ' Graf Friedrich ' with 
* The Cruel Brother ' is not close and cannot 
be insisted on ; still an early connection is not 

The versions of ' Graf Friedrich ' are some- 
what numerous, and there is a general agree- 
ment as to all essentials. They are : A, a 

^ Nuremberg broadside " of about 1535," which 
has not been made accessible by a reprint. 

> B, a Swiss broadside of 1647, without place, 
" printed in Seckendorf's Musenalmanach f iir 
1808, p. 19 ; " Uhland, No 122, p. 277 ; Mit- 
tler, No 108 ; Wunderhorn, n, 293 (1857) ; 
Erk's Liederhort, No 15% p. 42 ; Bohme, No 
79, p. 166 : also, in Wunderhorn, 1808, n, 
289, with omission of five stanzas and with 
many changes ; Simrock, No 11, p. 28, omit- 
ting four stanzas and with changes ; as writ- 
ten down by Goethe for Herder, Diintzer u. 
Herder, Briefe Goethes, u. s. w., Aus Herder's 
Nachlass, i, 167, with the omission of eight 
stanzas and with some variations. C, Wun- 
derhorn (1857), n, 299, from the Schwarz- 
wald, = Erlach, IV, 291, Mittler, No 113. 
D, Taschenbuch fiir Dichter, u. s. w., Theil 
Vin, 122, from Upper Lusatia, = Erlach, in, 
448, Talvj, Charakteristik, p. 421. B, from 
the Kuhlandchen, Meinert, p. 23, = Mittler, 
No 109. F, Hoffmann u. Richter, Schlesische 
V. L., No 19, p. 35, = Mittler, No 112, Erk's 
Liederhort, No 15, p. 40. Gr, Zingerle, in 
Wolf's Zeitschrift fiir deutsche Mythologie, 

I, 341, from Meran. H, from Uckermark, 
Brandenburg, Mittler, No 114. I, Hesse, from 
oral tradition, Mittler, No 111. J, Erk u. 
Irmer, ii, 54, No 54, from the neighborhood 
of Halle, = Mittler, No 110. K, from Estedt, 
district of Magdeburg, Parisius, p. 3 1, No 9. 

A Danish ballad, 'Den saarede Jomfru,' 
Grundtvig, No 244, iv, 474, has this slight 
resemblance with ' Graf Friedrich : ' While a 
knight is dancing with a princess, his sword 
glides from the scabbard and cuts her hand. 
To save her partner from blame, she repre- 
sents to her father that she had cut herself - 
with her brother's sword. This considerate- 
ness so touches the knight (who is, of course, 
her equal in rank) that he offers her his hand. 
The Danish story is found also in Norwegian 
and in Faroe ballads. 

The peculiar testament made by the bride 
in ' The Cruel Brother,' by which she be- 
queaths good things to her friends, but ill 
things to the author of her death, is highly 
characteristic of ballad poetry. It will be 
found again in ' Lord Ronald,' ' Edward,' and 
their analogues. Still other ballads with this 
kind of testament are : ' Frillens Haevn,' 
Grundtvig, No 208 C, 16-18, iv, 207; a 
young man, stabbed by his leman, whom he 
was about to give up in order to marry, leaves 
his lands to his father, his bride-bed to his 
sister, his gilded couch to his mother, and his 
knife to his leman, wishing it in her body. 
' M0en paa Baalet,' Grundtvig, No 109 A, 18- 
21, II, 587 ; Ole, falsely accused by her brother, 
and condemned to be burned, gives her mother 
her silken sark, her sister her shoes, her father 
her horse, and her brother her knife, with the 
same wish. ' Kong Valdemar og bans Sas- 
ter,' Grundtvig, No 126, ni, 97, has a testa- 
ment in A-E and I ; in I, 14-19 (m, 912), 
Liden Kirsten bequeaths her knife, with the 
same imprecation, to the queen, who, in the 
other copies, is her unrelenting foe : so Lil- 
lelin to Herr Adelbrand, Danske Viser, m, 
386, No 162, 16-18, Kristensen, i, 262, No 
100, A 20-23, having been dragged at a horse's 
heels in resentment of a taunt. ' Hustru og 
Mands Moder,' Grundtvig, No. 84, n, 404, has 
a testameat in A, B, D, H, and in the last 



three a bequest of shoes or sark to a cruel 
mother-in-law or foster-mother, with the wish 
that she may have no peace or much pain 
in the wearing. ' Catarina de Li6,' Briz y 
Candi, Cansons de la Terra, I, 209, has been 
beaten by her mother-in-law while in a deli- 
cate state. When she is at the point of death, 
the mother-in-law asks what doctor she will 
have and what will she will make. " My 
will," says Catherine, " will not please you 
much. Send back my velvet dress to my fa- 
ther's ; my gala dress give my sister ; give my 
working dress to the maid, my jewels to the 
Virgin." " And what will you leave to me ? " 
" What I leave you will not please you much : 
my husband to be hanged, my mother-in-law 
to be quartered, and my sister-in-law to be 
burned." ' Le Testament de Marion,' another 
version of this story from the south of France, 
Uchaud, Gard, Poesies pop. de la France, MS., 
rv, fol. 283, bequeaths " my laces to my sister 
Marioun, my prettiest gowns to my sister 
Jeanneton ; to my rascal of a husband three 
fine cords, and, if that is not enough (to hang 
him), the hem of his shirt." The Portuguese 
ballad of ' Dona Helena ' rather implies than 
expresses the imprecation : Braga, C. P. do 
Archipelago A^oriano, p. 225, No 15, p. 227, 
No 16 ; Almeida-Garrett, in, 56 ; Hartung, i, 
233-43, No 18. Helena leaves her husband's 
house when near childbirth, out of fear of his 
mother. Her husband, who does not know her 
reason, goes after her, and compels her to re- 
turn on horseback, though she has just borne a 
son. The consequences are what might be ex- 
pected, and Helena desires to make her shrift 
and her will. She leaves one thing to her oldest 
sister, another to her youngest. " And your 
boy ? " " To your bitch of a mother, cause 
of my woes." " Rather to yours," says the 
husband, " for I shall have to kill mine " (so 
Braga ; Garrett differs somewhat). ' Die Frau 
zur Weissenbiirg ' (A), Uhland, p. 287, No 
123 B, Scherer's Jungbrunnen, p. 94, No 29 ; 
* Das Lied von der Lowenburg ' (B), Simrock, 
p. 65, No 27; 'Hans Steutlinger' (C), Wun- 

derhorn, n, 168 (1857), all one story, have a 
bitterly sarcastic testament. A lady insti- 
gates her paramour to kill her husband. The 
betrayed man is asked to whom he will leave 
his children [commit, A, bequeath, B, C]. 
" To God Almighty, for he knows who they 
are." " Your property ? " " To the poor, for 
the rich have enough." " Your wife ? " " To 
young Count Frederic, whom she always liked 
more than me (A)." " Your castle ? " " To 
the flames." 

In some cases there is no trace of animosity 
towards the person who has caused the tes- 
tator's death ; as in ' El testamento de Amelia ' 
(who has been poisoned by her mother), Mild, 
Observaciones, p. 103, No 5, Briz y Salt6, Can- 
sons de la Terra, n, 197 (two copies) ; 'Her- 
ren Bald,' Afzelius, i, 76, No 16 (new ed. I, 59, 
No 15) ; a Swedish form of ' Frillens Hsevn,' 
Grundtvig, IV, 203 ; ' Ren^e le Glaz ' and 'Er- 
voanik Le Lintier,' Luzel, C. P. de la Basse 
Bretagne, I, 405, 539, 553. There are also 
simple testaments where there is no occasion 
for an ill remembrance, as in ' Ribold og 
Guldborg,' Grundtvig, No 82, I, K, L, U, X, 
M, Kristensen, n. No 84 B ; ' Pontplancoat,' 
Luzel, I, 383, 391. And, again, there are par- 
odies of these wills. Thus the fox makes his 
will : Grundtvig, Gamle danske Minder, 1854, 
* Mikkels Arvegods,' p. 24, and p. 25 a copy 
from a manuscript three hundred years old ; 
Kristensen, Jyske Folkeviser, n, 324, No 90 ; 
'Reven og Bjonnen,' ' Reven og Nils fiskar,' 
Landstad, Nos 85, 86, p. 637, 639 : and the rob- 
in, ' Robin's Tesment,' Buchan, i, 273, Herd's 
MSS, I, 154, and Scottish Songs (1776), n, 
166, Chambers' Popular Rhymes, p. 38, 
" new edition." 

Translated in Grundtvig's Engelske og 
skotske Folkeviser, No 33, p. 212, F, with 
use of A and G b ; Aytoun's copy, with omis- 
sions, by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volks- 
lieder der Vorzeit, No 17, p. 80 ; after Al- 
lingham and others, by Knortz, Lieder und 
Romanzen Alt-Englands, No 5, p. 16. 



a. Alex. Fraser Tytler's Brown MS. b. Jamieson's 
Popular Ballads, i, 66, purporting to be from the recitation 
of Mrs Arrot of Aberbrothick. 

1 There was three ladies playd at the ba, 

With a hey ho and a lillie gay 
There came a knight and played oer them a'. 
As the primrose spreads so sweetly 

2 The eldest was baith taU and fair, 
But the youngest was beyond compare. 

3 The midmost had a graceful mien, 

But the youngest lookd like beautie's queen. 

4 The knight bowd low to a' the three, 
But to the youngest he bent his knee. 

5 The ladie turned her head aside, 

The knight he woo'd her to be his bride. 

6 The ladie blushd a rosy red, 

And sayd, ' Sir knight, I 'm too young to 

7 ' ladie fair, give me your hand, 

And I '11 make you ladie of a' my land.' 

8 ' Sir knight, ere ye my favor win, 
You maun get consent frae a' my kin.' 

9 He 's got consent frae her parents dear, 
And likewise frae her sisters fair. 

10 He 's got consent frae her kin each one. 
But forgot to spiek to her brother John. 

11 Now, when the wedding day was come. 

The knight would take his bonny bride home. 

12 And many a lord and many a knight 
Came to behold that ladie bright. 

13 And there was nae man that did her see, 
But wishd himself bridegroom to be. 


14 Her father dear led her down the stair. 
And her sisters twain they kissd her there. 

15 Her mother dear led her thro the closs, 
And her brother John set her on her Horse. 

16 She leand her oer the saddle-bow. 
To give him a kiss ere she did go. 

17 He has taen a knife, baith lang and sharp. 
And stabbd that bonny bride to the heart. 

18 She hadno ridden half thro the town. 
Until her heart's blude staind her gown. 

19 ' Ride softly on,' says the best young man, 

* For I think our bonny bride looks pale and 


20 ' O lead me gently up yon hill. 

And I 'U there sit down, and make my will.' 

21 ' O what will you leave to your father dear ? ' 
' The silver-shod steed that brought me here.' 

22 ' What will you leave to your mother dear ? ' 

* My velvet paU and my silken gear.' 

23 ' What wiU you leave to your sister Anne ? ' 

* My silken scarf and my gowden fan.' 

24 ' What will you leave to your sister Grace ? ' 
' My bloody cloaths to wash and dress.' 

25 ' What will you leave to your brother John ? ' 

* The gaUows-tree to hang bim on.' 

26 ' What win you leave to your brother John's 

wife ? ' 

* The wilderness to end her life.' 

27 This ladie fair in her grave was laid. 
And many a mass was oer her said. 

28 But it would have made your heart right sair. 
To see the bridegroom rive his haire. 



Kinloch's MSS, i, 21, from Mary Barr, May, 1827, Clydes- 

1 A •ENTLEMAN Cam ouTC the sea, 

Fine flowers in the valley 
And he has courted ladies three. 
With the light green and the yellow 

2 One o them was clad in red : 

He asked if she wad be his bride. 

3 One o them was clad in green : 
He asked i£ she wad be his queen. 

4 The last o them was clad in white : 

He asked if she wad be his heart's delight. 

6 * Ye may ga ask my father, the king : 
Sae maun ye ask my mither, the queen. 

6 * Sae maun ye ask my sister Anne : 
And dinna forget my brither John.' 

7 He has asked her father, the king : 
And sae did he her mither, the queen. 

8 And he has asked her sister Anne : 
But he has forgot her brother John. 

9 Her father led her through the ha. 
Her mither danced afore them a'. 

10 Her sister Anne led her through the closs, 
Her brither John set her on her horse. 

11 It *8 then he drew a little penknife, 
And he reft the fair maid o her life. 

12 * Ride up, ride up,' said the foremost man ; 
' I think our bride comes hooly on.' 

13 * Ride up, ride up,' said the second man ; 
' I think our bride looks pale and wan.' 

14 Up than cam the gay bridegroom. 
And straucht unto the bride he cam. 

15 ' Does your side-saddle sit awry ? 
Or does your steed . . . 

16 ' Or does the rain run in your glove ? 
Or wad ye chuse anither love ? ' 

17 ' The rain runs not in my glove. 
Nor will I e'er chuse anither love. 

18 ' But an I war at Saint Evron's well. 
There I wad licht, and drink my fill ! 

19 ' Oh an I war at 3aint Evron's closs, 
There I wad licht, and bait my horse ! ' 

20 Whan she cam to Saint Evron's well. 
She dought na licht to drink her fill. 

21 Whan she cam to Saint Evron's closs. 
The bonny bride fell aff her horse. 







What wUl ye leave to your father, the king ? * 
The milk-white steed that I ride on.' 

What will ye leave to your mother, the 

queen ? ' 
The bluidy robes that I have on.' 

What will ye leave to your sister Anne ? ' 
My gude lord, to be wedded on.' 

What wiU ye leave to your brither John ? ' 
The gallows pin to hang him on.' 

What will ye leave to your brither's wife ? ' 
Grief and sorrow a' the days o her life.' 

What will ye leave to your brither's bairns ? ' 
The meal-pock to hang oure the arms.' 

28 Now does she neither sigh nor groan : 
She lies aneath yon marble stone. 



Harris MS., p. 11 b, No 7. 

1 There waur three ladies in a ha, 

Hech hey an the lily gey 
By cam a knicht, an he wooed them a'. 
An the rose is aye the redder aye 

2 The first ane she was cled in green ; 

' WUl you fancy me, an be my queen ? ' 

3 ' You may seek me frae my father dear, 
An frae my mither, wha did me bear. 

4 ' You may seek me frae my sister Anne, 
But no, no, no frae my brither John.' 

5 The niest ane she was cled in yellow ; 

' Will you fancy me, an be my marrow ? ' 

6 ' Ye may seek me frae my father dear, 
An frae my mither, wha did me bear. 

7 * Ye may seek me frae my sister Anne, 
But no, no, no frae toy brither John.' 

8 The niest ane she was cled in red : 

' Will ye fancy me, an be my bride ? ' 

9 ' Ye may seek me frae my father dear, 
An frae my mither wha did me bear. 

10 ' Ye may seek me frae my sister Anne, 
An dinna forget my brither John.' 

11 He socht her frae her father, the king, 

An he socht her frae her mither, the queen. 

12 He socht her frae her sister Anne, 
But he forgot her brither John. 

13 Her mither she put on her goun, 

An her sister Anne preened the ribbons doun. 

14 Her father led her doon the close. 

An her brither John set her on her horse. 
* * # # * 

15 Up an spak our foremost man : 

' I think our bonnie bride 's pale an wan.' 

16 ' What will ye leave to your father dear ? ' 
' My ...... an my chair.' 

17 ' What will ye leave to your mither dear ? ' 
' My silken screen I was wont to wear.' 

18 ' What will ye leave to your sister Anne ? ' 
* My silken snood an my golden fan.' 

19 ' What will you leave to your brither John ? * 
' The gallows tree to hang him on.' 


Notes and Queries, 1st S., vi, 53, 2d S., v, 171. As sung 
by a lady who was a native of County Kerry, Ireland. 

1 There were three ladies playing at ball, 
Farin-dan-dan and farin-dan-dee 

There came a white knight, and he wooed them 
With adieu, sweet honey, wherever you be 

2 He courted the eldest with golden rings, 
And the others with many fine things. 
And adieu, etc. 


Notes and Queries, 4th S., v, 105. From Forfarshire, W. F. 

There were three sisters playin at the ba, 
Wi a hech hey an a lillie gay 

There cam a knicht an lookt ower the wa'. 
An the primrose springs sae sweetly. 
Sing Annet, an Marret, an fair Maisrie, 
An the dew hangs i the wood, gay ladie. 



Gilbert's Ancient Christinas Carols, 2d ed., p". 68, as re- 
membered by the editor. West of England. 

1 There did three knights come from the west, 

With the high and the lily oh 
And these three knights courted one lady. 
As the rose was so sweetly blown 

2 The first knight came was all in white, 
And asked of her, if she 'd be his delight. 

3 The next knight came was all in green. 
And asked of her, if she 'd be his queen. 

4 The third knight came was all in red, 
And asked of her, if she would wed. 

5 * Then have you asked of my father dear, 
Likewise of her who did me bear ? 

6 ' And have you asked of my brother John ? 
And also of my sister Anne ? ' 

7 ' Yes, I have asked of your father dear. 
Likewise of her who did you bear. 

8 ' And I have asked of your sister Anne, 
But I 've not asked of your brother John.' 

9 Far on the road as they rode along. 
There did they meet with her brother John. 

10 She stooped, low to kiss him sweet. 
He to her heart did a dagger meet. 

11 ' Ride on, ride on,' cried the serving man, 
'Methinks your bride she looks wondrous 


12 ' I wish I were on yonder stile. 

For there I would sit and bleed awhile. 

13 ' I wish I were on yonder hill. 
There I 'd alight and make my will.' 

14 ' What would you give to your father dear ? ' 
* The gallant steed which doth me bear.' 

15 ' What would you give to your mother dear ? ' 
' My wedding shift which I do wear. 

16 ' But she must wash it very clean. 

For my heart's blood sticks in evry seam.' 

17 ' What would you give to your sister Anne ? * 
' My gay gold ring and my feathered fan.' 

18 ' What would you give to your brother John ? ' 
' A rope and gallows to hang him on.' 

19 ' What would you give to your brother John's 

wife ? ' 
' A widow's weeds, and a quiet life.' 


a. Herd's MSS, i, 41. b. Herd's Scottish Songs, 1776, 
I, 88. 

1 There was three ladys in a ha. 

Fine flowers i the valley 
There came three lords amang them a', 
Wi the red, green, and the yellow 

2 The first of them was clad in red : 

* O lady fair, will you be my bride ? ' 

3 The second of them was clad in green : 
' O lady fair, will you be my queen ? ' 

4 The third of them was clad in yellow : 

' O lady fair, will you be my marrow ? ' 

5 ' You must ask my father dear, 
Likewise the mother that did me bear.' 

6 * You must ask my sister Ann, 
And not forget my brother John.' 

7 ' I have askt thy father dear, 
Likewise thy mother that did thee bear. 

8 ' I have askt thy sister Ann, 
But I forgot thy brother John.' 

9 Her father led her through the ha, 
Her mother dancd before them a'. 

10 Her sister Ann led her tlirough the closs, 
Her brother John put her on her horse. 



1 1 ' You are high and I am low ; 16 
Let me have a kiss before you go.' 

12 She was louting down to kiss him sweet, 17 
Wi his penknife he wounded her deep. 


13 ' O lead me over into yon stile, 18 
That I may stop and breath a while. 

14 ' O lead me over to yon stair, 19 
For there I '11 ly and bleed ne mair.' 

15 ' what wUl you leave your father dear ? ' 

' That mUk-white steed that brought me here.' 20 

O what will you leave your mother dear ? ' 
The sUken gown that I did wear.' 

What wiU you leave your sister Ann ? ' 
My silken snood and golden fan.' 

What will you leave your brother John ? ' 
The highest gallows to hang him on.' 

What wiU you leave your brother John's 

wife ? ' 
Grief and sorrow to end her life.' 

What will ye leave your brother John's' 

bairns ? ' 
The world wide for them to range.' 

Herd's MSS, i, 44, ii, 75; Scottish Songs, 1776, i, 90; 
appended to G. 

She louted down to gie a kiss, 
With a hey and a lilly gay 

He stuck his penknife in her hass. 
And the rose it smells so sweetly 

* Ride up, ride up,' cry'd the foremost man; 
' I think our bride looks pale and wan.' 

Kinloch's MSS, i, 27, From Mrs Bouchart, an old lady 
native of Forfarshire. 

1 There war three bonnie boys playing at the 

Hech hey and a lUy gay 
There cam three ladies to view them a'. 
And the rose it smells sae sweetlie 

2 The first ane was clad in red : 

* O,' says he, ' ye maun be my bride.' 

3 The next o them was clad in green : 

' O,' says he, * ye maim be my queen.' 

4 The tither o them was clad in yellow : 

' O,' says he, ' ye maun be my marrow.' 

6 * Ye maun gang to my father's bouer. 
To see gin your bride he '11 let me be.' 

6 Her father led her doun the stair, 
Her mither at her back did bear. 

7 Her sister Jess led her out the closs, 
Her brother John set her on the horse. 

8 She loutit doun to gie him a kiss ; 
He struck his penknife thro her breist. 

Ride on, ride on,' says the foremaist man ; 
I think our bride looks pale and wan.* 








Ride on, ride on,' says the merry bride- 
groom ; 
I think my bride's blude is rinnin doun.' 

O gin I war at yon boimie hiU, 
I wad lie doun and bleed my fill ! 

gin I war at yon bonnie kirk-yard, 
I wad mak my testament there ! ' 

What will ye leave to your father dear ? * 
The milk-white steed that brocht me here.' 

What will ye leave to your mother dear ? ' 
The bluidy robes that I do wear.' 

What will ye leave to your sister Ann ? ' 
My silken snood and gowden fan.' 

What will ye leave to your sister Jess ? ' 
The bonnie lad that I loe best.' 



17 * What will ye leave to your brother John ? ' 

* The gallows pin to hang him on.' 

18 ' What will ye leave to your brother John's 


* Sorrow and trouble a' her life.' 

19 'What will ye leave to your brother's bairns?' 
' The warld 's wide, and let them beg.' 

From Miss Margaret Rebum, as current in County Meath, 
Ireland, about I860. 

1 There were three sisters playing ball, 

With the high and the lily O 
And there came three knights to court them 
With the rosey sweet, heigh ho 

2 The eldest of them was drest in green : 

* I wish I had you to be my queen.' 

3 The second of them was drest in red : 

* I wish I had you to grace my bed.' 

4 The youngest of them was drest in white : 
'I wish I had you to be my wife.' 

5 * Did ye ask my father brave ? 
Or did ye ask my mother fair ? 

6 * Or did ye ask my brother John ? 

For without his will I dare not move on.' 

7 * I did ask your parents dear, 

But I did not see your brother John.* 

8 ' Ride on, ride on,' said the first man, 

' For I fear the bride comes slowly on.' 

9 ' Ride on, ride on,' said the next man, 

' For lo ! the bride she comes bleeding on.' 

10 ' What will you leave your mother dear ? ' 
' My heart's best love for ever and aye.' 

11 * What will ye leave your sister Anne ? ' 
' This wedding garment that I have on.' 

12 'What wiU ye leave your brother John's 

' Grief and sorrow all the days of her life.' 

13 ' What will ye leave your brother John ? ' 
' The highest gaUows to hang him on.' 

14 ' What win ye leave your brother John's son ? * 
* The grace of God to make him a man.' 

Notes and Queries, 4th S., iv, 517, as " sung in Cheshire 
amongst the people " in the last century. T. W. 

1 Thebe were three ladies playing at ball, 

Gilliver, Gentle, and Rosemary 
There came three knights and looked over the 
Sing O the red rose and the white lilly 

2 The first young knight, he was clothed in red. 
And he said, ' Gentle lady, with me will you 


3 The second young knight, he was clothed in 

And he said, 'To my love I shall ever be 

4 The third young knight, he was clothed in 

And he said, ' Fairest maiden, will you be my 
queen ? ' 

5 The lady thus spoke to the knight in red, 
' With you, sir knight, I never can wed.' 

6 The lady then spoke to the knight in blue. 
And she said, ' Little faith I can have in you.' 

7 The lady then spoke to the knight in green, 
And she said, ' 'T is at court you must seek for 

a queen.' 

8 The three young knights then rode away, 
And the ladies they laughed, and went back to 

their play. 
Singing, etc. 



A. b. 6^. oer young. 

10*^. spear at. 
17^. the bonny. 
19^. said. 

23^. And what will ye. 
25^. This fair lady. ^. And a mass. 
Variations of At/toun's copy, sts. 9-13, 16, 17, 
20-24 : 1\} omits And ; 12S 13^ omit dear ; 
13^ omits And ; 16^ through half for half 
thro ; 17^ omits For, bonny ; 21", pearlin for 
silken ; 22^ omits And ; 22^^, My silken 
gown that stands its lane ; 23^, shirt for 
cloaths ; 24^, And what ; 24^, The gates o 
hell to let him in. 

B. " I have seen a fragment of another copy in 

which [the burden is] 

The red rose and the lily 
And the roses spring fu sweetly." Kinloch, 
p. 19. 

F. 9^ For on the road. 

G. a. 1. Burden"^. The red, green, etc. : after- 

wards, Wi the red, etc. 

2\ MS. also, He askt of me if I 'd be his 

Z^. MS. also, He askt of me if I 'd be his 

4?. MS. also, He askt me if I 'd be his mar- 

15". MS. also. The gold and silver that I have 

16". MS. also, The silken garment. 

17". MS. also, My satine hat. 

20", MS. also, The world wide, let them go 

b. 7". the mother. 

b. 14^. into yon stair. 

Variations of Aytoun^s copy, sts. 1-8, 14, 15, 
18, 19 from Herd, 1776 : 1^, three sisters ; 
2", 3", 4" omit fair ; 5^, O ye maun ; 6^ And 
ye ; 7^, O I have ; 8^, And I have ask'd your 
sister ; 8", your brother ; 14", Give me a 
kiss ; 15", When wi his knife. 
H. " I have heard this song, to a very good tune 
not in any collection, with the above varia- 
tions — the chorus, of the whole as in the 
above two verses." Herd's note in his MSS. 



A. From a manuscript copy, probably of the beginning of New Bedford, d. By a lady of Cambridge, e, f, g. 
of this century. By ladies of Boston. 

B. ' Lord Donald,' Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, J. ' The Bonnie Wee Croodlin Dow,* Motherwell's 

p. 110. 

C. Motherwell's MS., p. 69.'' 

D. Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, 1803, iii, 292. 

E. Halliwell's Popular Rhymes and Nursery Tales, p. 

F. ' Lord Ronald, my Son,' Johnson's Museum, No 
327, p. 337. 

G. Illustrations of Northern Antiquities, p. 319. 

H. From recitation, 1881. 

L ' Tiranti, my Son.' a. Communicated by a lady of 
Boston, b. By an aunt of the same. c. By a lady 

MS., p. 238. 

K. a. ' The Croodlin Doo,' Chambers, Scottish Bal- 
lads, p. 324. b. ' The Wee Croodlen Doo,' Cham- 
bers, Popular Rhymes, 1842, p. 53. c. Johnson's 
Museum, by Stenhouse and Laing, iv, 364*. 

L. ' Willie Doo,' Buchan's MSS, ii, 322, and Ballads, 
II, 179. 

M. ' The Croodin Doo,' Chambers, Popular Rhymes, 
1870, p. 51. 

N. Kinloch MSS, v, 347. 

O. ' The Croodlin Doo.' From a manuscript belong- 
ing to the Fraser-Tytler family. 



The title ' Lord Randal * is selected for this 
ballad because that name occurs in one of the 
better versions, and because it has become fa- 
miliar through Scott's Minstrelsy. Scott says 
that the hero was more generally termed Lord 
Ronald : but in the versions that have come 
down to us this is not so. None of these can 
be traced back further than a century. F 
and D were the earliest published. Jamieson 
remarks with respect to G (1814) : " An 
English gentleman, who had never paid any 
attention to ballads, nor ever read a collection 
of such things, told me that when a child he 
learnt from a playmate of his own age, the 
daughter of a clergyman in Suffolk, the fol- 
lowing imperfect ditty." I, a version current 
in eastern Massachusetts, may be carried as 
far back as any. a, b derive from Elizabeth 
Foster, whose parents, both natives of eastern 
Massachusetts, settled, after their marriage, in 
Maine, where she was born in 1789. Eliza- 
beth Foster's mother is remembered to have 
sung the ballad, and I am informed that the 
daughter must have learned it not long after 
1789, since she was removed in her childhood 
from Maine to Massachusetts, and continued 
there till her death. ' Tiranti ' [' Taranti '] 
may not improbably be a corruption of Lord 

The copy in Smith's Scottish Minstrel, m, 
68, is Scott's altered. The first four stanzas 
are from the Border Minstrelsy, except the 
last line of the fourth, which is from Johnson's 
Museum. The last two stanzas are a poor 
modern invention. 

Three stanzas which are found in A. Cun- 
ningham's Scottish Songs, i, 286 f, may be 
given for what they are worth. ' The house 
of Marr,' in the first, is not to be accepted on 
the simple ground of its appearance in his 
pages. The second is inserted in his beauti- 
fied edition of Scott's ballad, and has its bur- 
den accordingly ; but there is, besides this, no 
internal evidence against the second, and none 
against the third. 

* Opera iiuova, nella quale si contiene una incatenatura 
di piu villanelle ed altre cose ridiculose. . . • Data in luce 
per me Camillo, detto il Bianchino, cieco Fiorentino. Flie- 

* O where have you been, Lord Ronald, my son ? 
where have you been, my handsome young man?* 
' At the house of Marr, mother, so make my bed 

For I 'm wearied with hunting, and fain would lie 


' O where did she find them, Lord Randal, my son ? 
O where did she catch them, my handsome young 

man ? ' 
' Neath the bush of brown bracken, so make my 

bed soon, 
For I 'm wae and I 'm weary, and fain would lie 


' O what got your bloodhounds, Lord Ronald, my 

what got your bloodhounds, my handsome young 

man ? ' 
' They lapt the broo, mother, so make my bed soon, 

1 am wearied with hunting, and fain would lie 


A pot-pourri or quodlibet, reprinted in 
Wolff's Egeria, p. 53, from a Veronese broad- 
side of the date 1629, shows that this ballad 
was popular in Italy more than 250 years 
ago ; for the last but one of the fragments 
which make up the medley happens to be the 
first three lines of ' L' Avvelenato,' very nearly 
as they are sung at the present day, and these 
are introduced by a summary of the story : 

" lo vo' finire con questa d'un amante 
Tradito dalV amata. 
Oh che I'e si garbata 
A cantarla in ischiera : 
* Dov^ andastu iersera, 
Figliuol mio ricco, savio e gentile ? 
Dov' andastu iersera ' ?"* 

The ballad was first recovered in 1865, by 
Dr G. B. Bolza, who took it down from the 
singing of very young girls at Loveno. Since 
then good copies have been found at Venice. 
A, ' L'Avvelenato,' Bolza, Canzoni popolari 
comasche, No 49, Sitzungsberichte of the 
Vienna Academy (philos. histor. class), LllI, 

gendes Blatt von Verona, 1629. Egeria, p. 53; p. 260, note 
31. — With the above (Egeria, p. 59) compare especially the 
beginning of Italian B, further on. 

[To ' Lord Randal/ p. 152 f.] 
I have unaccountably failed to mention 
(though I had made note of them) three ver- 
sions of ' L'Avvelenato ' which are cited by 
Professor D'Ancona in his Poesia popolare 
italiana, p. 106 ff. 

D. The Canon Lorenzo Panciatichi refers 
to the ballad in a * Cicalata in lode della Pa- 
della e della Frittura,' 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 an- 
dastu a cena,' etc. To this the son answered, 
he says, that he 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. 

B. 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 testa- 
ment is said to supervene immediately. 

P. 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 Lec- 
cese, p. 17. The first four stanzas are cited, 
and it appears from these that the pi'ince had 
cooked the eel himself, and, appropriately, in 
a gold pan. 

[To 'The Cruel Brother,' p. 142.] 

I will take the opportunity to remark that 
Nigra has just republished in Romania XI, 
391, ' Luggieri,' a version, from Arezzo, of 
t Rizzardo bello,' previously printed by Giulio 
Salvatori in the Rassegna Settimanale, No. 
77, Rome, June 22, 1879. Nigra treats ' Lug- 
gieri ' as a variety of ' Jean Renaud.' To me 
it seems an independent ballad. 




668, is of seventeen stanzas, of seven short 
lines, all of which repeat but two : the -Sth 
and 10th stanzas are imperfect.* A mother 
inquires of her son where he has been. He 
has been at his mistress's, where he has eaten 
part of an eel ; the rest was given to a dog, 
that died in the street. The mother declares 
that he has been poisoned. He bids her send 
for the doctor to see him, for the curate to 
shrive him, for the notary to make his will. 
He leaves his mother his palace, his brothers 
his carriage and horses, his sisters a dowry, 
his servants a free passage to mass (" la strada 
d'anda a messa " = nothing), a hundred and 
fifty masses for his soul ; for his mistress the 
gallows to hang her. B, C, ' L'Avvelenato,' 
Bernoni, Nuovi Canti popolari veneziani, 1874, 
No 1, p. 5, p. 3, have twelve and eighteen 
four-line stanzas, the questions and answei'S 
in successive stanzas, and the last three lines 
of the first pair repeated respectively through- 
out.! ^» which is given as a variant of C, 
agrees with A as to the agent in the young 
man's death. It is his mistress in B, but in 
C it is his mother. In both, as in A, he has 
eaten of an eel. The head he gave to the 
dogs, the tail to the cats (C). He leaves to 
his stewards (castaldi) his carriages and horses 
(C) ; to his herdsmen his cows and fields ; to 
the maids his chamber furnishings ; to his 
sister the bare privilege of going to mass (C, 
as in A) ; to his mother [wife, C] the keys 
of his treasure. " La forca per picarla " is in 
B as in A the bequest to his false love, in- 
stead of whom we have his mother in C. 

The corresponding German ballad has been 
known to the English for two generations 
through Jamieson's translation. The several 
versions, all from oral tradition of this century, 

* It begins : 

" Dove si sta jersira, 

Figliuol mio caro,Jiorito e gentUf 

Dove si std jersira f " 
" Sou sta dalla mia dama; 

Sigrwra Mama, mio core sta mal! 

Son sta dalla mia dama ; 

Ohime ! chHo mora, chime ! " 

t E. g. (B) : 

1 " E dove xestu sta gieri sera, 
Figlio mio rico, sapio e gentil ? 

show the same resemblances and differences 
as the English. 

A, B, ' Schlangenkochin,' eight stanzas of 
six lines, four of which are burden, A, Lieder- 
hort, p. 6, No 2% from the neighborhood of 
Wilsnack, Brandenburg, B, Peter, I, 187, No 
6, from Weidenau, Austrian Silesia, run thus : 
Henry tells his mother that he has been at 
his sweetheart's (but not a-hunting) ; has had 
a speckled fish to eat, part of which was given 
to the dog [cat, B], which burst. Henry- 
wishes his father and mother all blessings, and 
hell-pains to his love, A 6-8. His mother, B 8, 
asks where she shall make his bed : he replies, 
In the church-yard. C, ' Grossm utter Schlang- 
enkochin,' first published in 1802, in Maria's 
(Clemens Brentano's) romance Godwi, II, 113, 
afterward in the Wunderhorn, i, 19 (ed. 1819, 
I, 20, ed. 1857), has fourteen two-line stanzas, 
or seven of four lines, one half burden. The 
copy in Zuccalmaglio, p. 217, No 104, " from 
Hesse and North Germany," is the same thing 
with another line of burden intercalated and 
two or three slight changes. Maria has been 
at her grandmother's, who gave her a fish to 
eat which she had caught in her kitchen gar- 
den ; the dog ate the leavings, and his belly 
burst. The conclusion agrees with B, neither 
having the testament. D, ' Stief mutter,' seven 
stanzas of four short lines, two being burden, 
Uhland, No 120, p. 272 ; excepting one slight 
variation, the same as Liederhort, p. 5, No 2, 
from the vicinity of Biickeburg, Lippe-Schaum- 
burg. A child has been at her mother's sis- 
ter's house, where she has had a well-peppered 
broth and a glass of red wine. The dogs 
[and cats] had some broth too, and died on 
the spot. The child wishes its father a seat 
in heaven, for its mother one in hell. B, 

E dove xestu sta gieri sera, 
Gentil mio cavalier ? " 

2 " E mi so' stato da la mia bela; 
Signora madre, el mio cuor sta mal ! 
E mi so' stato da la mia bela; 

Oh Dio, che moro, ohime ! " 

3 " E cossa t'aJa dato da ^ena, 
Figlio mio?" etc. 

4 "E la m'a dato 'n'anguila rostita; 
Signora madre," etc. 



' Kind, wo bist du denn henne west ? ' Reiffen- 
berg, p. 8, No 4, from Bokendorf, Westphalia, 
four stanzas of six lines, combining question 
and answer, two of the six burden. A child 
has been at its step-aunt's, and has had a bit 
of a fish caught in the nettles along the wall. 
The child gives all its goods to its brother, 
its clothes to its sister, but three devils to 
its [step-]mother. P, ' Das vergiftete kind,' 
seven four-line stanzas, two burden, Schuster, 
Siebenbiirgisch-sachsische V. L., p. 62, No 
58, from Miihlbach. A child tells its father 
that its heart is bursting; it has eaten of a 
fish, given it by its mother, which the father 
declares to be an adder. The child wishes 
its father a seat in heaven, its mother one in 

A, B are nearer to ' Lord Randal,' and have 
even the name Henry which we find in Eng- 
lish C. C-P are like J-O, ' The Croodlin Doo.' 

Dutch. ' Isabelle,' Snellaert, p. 73, No 67, 
seven four-line stanzas, the first and fourth 
lines repeated in each. Isabel has been sew- 
ing at her aunt's, and has eaten of a fish with 
yellow stripes that had been caught with tongs 
in the cellar. The broth, poured into the 
street, caused the dogs to burst. She wishes 
her aunt a red-hot furnace, herself a spade to 
bury her, her brother a wife like his mother. 

Swedish. A, ' Den lillas Testamente,' ten 
five-line stanzas, three lines burden, Afzelius, 
ni, 13, No 68 ; ed. Bergstrom, i, 291, No 55. 
A girl, interrogated by her step-mother, says 
she has been at her aunt's, and has eaten two 
wee striped fishes. The bones she gave the 
dog ; the stanza which should describe the 
effect is wanting. She wishes heaven for her 
father and mother, a ship for her brother, a 
jewel-box and chests for her sister, and hell 
for her step-mother and her nurse. B, Ar- 
■widsson, ii, 90, No 88, nine five-line stanzas, 
two lines burden. In the first stanza, evidently 
corrupt, the girl says she has been at her broth- 
er's. She has had eels cooked with pepper, 
and the bones, given to the dogs, made them 
burst. She gives her father good corn in his 
barns, her brother and sister a ship, etc., hell 
to her step-mother and nurse. 

Danish. Communicated by Prof. Grundt- 

vig, as obtained for the first time from tra- 
dition in 1877 ; five stanzas of five lines, three 
lines repeating. Elselille, in answer to her 
mother, says she has been in the meadow, 
where she got twelve small snakes. She wishes 
heavenly joy to her father, a grave to her 
brother, hell torment to her sister. 

Magyar. ' Der vergiftete Knabe,' Aigner, 
Ungarische Volksdichtungen, 2® Auflage, p. 
127, in nine six-line stanzas, four being a bur- 
den. Johnnie, in answer to his mother, says 
he has been at his sister-in-law's, and has eaten 
a speckled toad, served on her handsomest 
plate, of which he is dying. He bequeaths 
to his father his best carriage, to his brothers 
his finest horses, to his sister his house fur- 
niture, to his sister-in-law everlasting damna- 
tion, to his mother pain and sorrow. 

Wendish. ' Der vergiftete Knabe,' Haupt 
u. Schmaler, I, 110, No 77, twelve four-line 
stanzas, combining question and answer, the 
first and last line repeating. Henry has been 
at the neighbor's, has eaten part of a fish 
caught in the stable with a dung-fork ; his 
dog ate the rest, and burst. There is no tes- 
tament. His mother asks him where she shall 
make his bed ; he replies. In the churchyard ; 
turn my head westward, and cover me with 
green turf. 

The numerous forms of this story show a 
general agreement, with but little difference 
except as to the persons who are the object 
and the agent of the crime. These are, ac- 
cording to the Italian tradition, — which is 250 
years old, while no other goes back more than 
a hundred years, and far the larger part have 
been obtained in recent years, — a young man 
and his true-love ; and in this account unite 
two of the three modern Italian versions, 
English A-G, German A, B. Scott suggests 
that the handsome young sportsman (whom we 
find in English A, 0, D, B, P, H) may have 
been exchanged for a little child poisoned by 
a step-mother, to excite greater interest in the 
nursery. This seems very reasonable. What 
girl with a lover, singing the ballad, would 
not be tempted to put off the treacherous act 
on so popular, though most unjustly popular, 
an object of aversion ? A mother, again, 



would scarcely allow " mother " to stand, as 
is the case in Italian C and German F, and a 
singer who considered that all blood relations 
should be treated as sacred would ascribe the 
wickedness to somebody beyond that pale, say 
a neighbor, as the Wendish ballad does, and 
Zuccalmaglio's reading of German C. The 
step-mother is expressly named only in Eng- 
lish J, K c, L, M, N, O, and in four of these, 
J, K c, M, O, the child has a mammie,* which 
certainly proves an alibi for the step-mother, 
and confirms what Scott says. There is a 
step-aunt in German E and Swedish A, and 
the aunt in German D and the Dutch ballad, 
and the grandmother in English I, K a, b, 
German C, are perhaps meant (as the brother 
in Swedish B certainly is) to be step-relations 
and accommodating instruments. 

The poisoning is shifted to a wife in English 
H, to an uncle in English I d, and to a sister- 
in-law in the Magyar version. 

There is all but universal consent that the 
poisoning was done by serving up snakes for 
fish. The Magyar says a toad, English M a 
four-footed fish,f German D a well-peppered 
broth and a glass of red wine. English L 
adds a drink of hemlock stocks to the speckled 
trout; P, H have simply poison. The fish 
are distinctively eels in the Italian versions, 
and in English A, D, E, G, I, Swedish B. 
English A, J, K, M, N, O, German A-D, the 
Italian, Swedish, Dutch, Wendish versions, 
and by implication English C, D, E also, con- 
cur in saying that a part of the fish was given 
to a dog [dogs, cat, cats], and that death was 
the consequence. Bursting or swelling is char- 
acteristic of this kind of poisoning : German 
A, B, C, P, English D, E, and the Dutch and 
Wendish versions. 

The dying youth or child in many cases 

makes a nuncupative will, or declares his last 

wishes, upon a suggestion proceeding from the 

i person who is by him, commonly from the 

mother : English A, B, C, H, I : German A, 

D, B, F: the Italian, Dutch, Swedish, Danish, 
Magyar versions. The bequest to the poisoner 
is the gallows in English B, C, H, I, Italian 
A, B, C ; hell, English A, German A, D, P, 
Swedish A, B, Danish ; and an equivalent in 
German E, the Dutch and the Magyar copy. 
' The Cruel Brother," No 11, and ' Edward,' 
No 13, have a will of this same fashion. 

In all the English versions the burden has 
the entreaty " Make my bed," and this is ad- 
dressed to the mother in all but L, N. In H, 
an Irish copy, and I, an American one, the 
mother asks where the bed shall be made; 
and the answer is. In. the churchyard. This 
feature is found again in German B, C and in 
the Wendish version. 

The resemblance in the form of the stanza 
in all the versions deserves a word of remark. 
For the most part, the narrative proceeds in 
sections of two short lines, or rather half lines, 
which are a question and an answer, the rest 
of the stanza being regularly repeated. Eng- 
lish L, N, as written (L not always), separate 
the question and answer ; this is done, too, in 
Italian B, C. German E, on the contrary, has 
two questions and the answers in each stanza, 
and is altogether peculiar. Swedish B varies 
the burden in part, imagining father, brother, 
sister, etc., to ask what the little girl will 
give to each, and adapting the reply accord- 
ingly, " Faderen min," " Broderen min." 

A Bohemian and a Catalan ballad which 
have two of the three principal traits of the 
foregoing, the poisoning and the testament, do 
not exhibit, perhaps have lost, the third, the 
employment of snakes. 

The story of the first is that a mother who 
dislikes the wife her son has chosen attempts 
to poison her at the wedding feast. She sets 
a glass of honey before the son, a glass of 
poison before the bride. They exchange 
cups. The poison is swift. The young man 
leaves four horses to his brother, eight cows to 
his sister, his fine house to his wife. " And 

* Grundtvig notices this absurdity, Eng. og skotske 
F. V, p. 286, note **. 

t " The nurse or nursery maid who sung these verses (to 
a very plaintive air) always informed the juvenile audience 

that the step-mother was a rank witch, and that the fish was 
an ask (newt), which was in Scotland formerly deemed a 
most poisonous reptile." C. K. Sharpe, in the Musical Mu- 
seum, Laing-Stenhouse, iv, 364*. 



what to me, my son ? " asks the mother. A 
broad mill-stone and the deep Moldau is the 
bequest to her. Waldau, Bohmische Granaten, 
n, 109, cited by Reifferscheid, p. 137 f. 

The Catalan ballad seems to have been sof- 
tened at the end. Here again a mother hates 
her daughter-in-law. She comes to the sick 
woman, " com qui no 'n sab^s res," and asks 
What is the matter ? The daughter says, You 
have poisoned me. The mother exhorts her 
to confess and receive the sacrament, and then 
make her will. She gives her castles in France 
to the poor and the pilgrims [and the friars] , 
and to her brother Don Carlos [who in one 
version is her husband]. Two of the versions 
remember the Virgin. " And to me ? " " To 
you, my husband [my cloak, rosary], that 
when you go to mass you may remember me." 
In one version the mother asks the dying 
woman where she will be buried. She says At 
Saint Mary's. Mila, Observaciones, p. 103 f. 
No 5, two versions : Briz y Salt6, li, 197 f, 
two also, the first nearly the same as Mila's 

Poisoning by giving a snake as food, or by 
infusing the venom in drink, is an incident in 
several other popular ballads. 

Donna Lombarda attempts, at the instiga- 
tion of a lover, to rid herself of her husband 
by pounding a serpent, or its head, in a mor- 
tar, and mixing the juice with his wine [in 
one version simply killing the snake and put- 
ting it in a cask] : Nigra, Canzoni del Pie- 
monti, in Rivista Contemporanea, xil, 32 £f, 
four versions ; Marcoaldi, p. 177, No 20; Wolf, 
Volkslieder aus Venetien, p. 46, No 72 ; Righi, 
Canti popolari veronesi, p. 37, No 100* ; Fer- 
raro, C. p. monferrini, p. 1, No 1 ; Bernoni, C. 
p. veneziani, Puntata V, No 1. In three of Ni- 
gra's versions and in Ferraro's the drink is of- 
fered when the husband returns from hunting. 
The husband, rendered suspicious by the look 
of the wine, or warned of his danger, forces 
his wife to drink first. So in a northern bal- 
lad, a mother who attempts to destroy her sons 
[step-sons] with a brewage of this descrip- 
tion is obliged to drink first, and bursts with 
the poison: ' Eiturbyrlunar kv8e?5i,' Islenzk 

Fomkv., II, 79, No 43 A ; ' Fru Gundela,' 
Arwidsson, n, 92, No 89 ; ' Signelill aa hennes 
synir,' Bugge, p. 95, No xx, the last half. 

In one of the commonest Slavic ballads, a 
girl, who finds her brother an obstacle to her 
desires, poisons him, at the instigation and 
under the instruction of the man she fancies, 
or of her own motion, by giving him a snake 
to eat, or the virus in drink. The object of 
her passion, on being informed of what she has 
done, casts her off, for fear of her doing the like 
to him. Bohemian : ' Sestra travicka,' Erben, 
P. n. w Cechdch, 1842, i, 9, No 2, Proston4- 
rodni ^esU P., 1864, p. 477, No 13 ; Swoboda, 
Sbirka c. n. P., p. 19 ; German translations by 
Swoboda, by Wenzig, W. s. Marcbenschatz, 
p. 263, I. V. Diiringsfeld, Bohmische Rosen, p. 
176, etc.^ Moravian : Susil, p. 167, No 168. 
Slovak, Celakowsky, Slowansk^ n. P., ni, 
76. Polish: Kolberg, P. L. p., 1, 115, No 8, 
some twenty versions ; Wojcicki, P. L. bialo- 
chrobatow, etc., i, 71, 73, 232, 289 ; Pauli, P. 
L. polskiego, p. 81, 82 : Konopka, P. L. kra- 
kowskiego, p. 125. Servian : Vuk, l, 215, 
No 302, translated by Talvj, n, 192, and by 
Kapper, Gesange der Serben, li, 177. Rus- 
sian : Celakowsky, as above. III, 108. Etc. 
The attempt is made, but unsuccessfully, in 
Sacharof, P. russkago N., IV, 7. 

A version given by De Rada, Rapsodie d'un 
poema albanese, p. 78, canto x, resembles the 
Slavic, with a touch of the Italian. A man 
incites a girl to poison her brother by pound- 
ing the poison out of a serpent's head and 
tail and mixing it with wine. 

In a widely spread Romaic ballad, a mother 
poisons the bride whom her son has just 
brought home, — an orphan girl in some ver- 
sions, but in one a king's daughter wedding a 
king's son. The cooks who are preparing the 
feast are made to cook for the bride the heads 
of three snakes [nine snakes' heads, a three- 
headed snake, winged snakes and two-headed 
adders] . In two Epirote versions the poisoned 
girl bursts with the effects. " Ta kuko. ireOepiKd" 
Passow, p. 335, No 456, nearly = Zambelios, 
p. 753, No 41 ; Passow, p. 337, No 457 ; Tom- 
maseo, Canti popolari, m, 135 ; Jeannaraki, 



p. 127, No 130 * ; Chasiotis (Epirote), p. 51, 

No 40, " 'H (SovpyapoTTovXa koI ^ KaKrj ireOepd ; " 
p. 103, No 22, " 'O Aiovus Ktti 17 KaKT] TreOepd." 
(Liebrecht, Volkskunde, p. 214.) 

An Italian motlier-in-law ^undertakes to poi- 
son her son's wife with a snake-potion. The 
■wife, on her husband's return from the chase, 
innocently proposes to share the drink with 
Mm. Her husband no sooner has tasted than 
he falls dead. (Kaden, Italien's Wunderhorn, 
p. 85). 

Scott cites in his preface to ' Lord Randal ' 
a passage from a MS. chronicle of England, 
in which the death of King John is described 
as being brought about by administering to 
him the venom of a toad (cf. the Magyar 
ballad). The symptoms — swelling and rup- 
ture — are found in the Scandinavian and 
Epirote ballads referred to above, besides those 
previously noticed (p. 155). King John had 
asked a monk at the abbey of Swinshed how 
much a loaf on the table was worth. The 
monk answered a half-penny. The king said 
that if he could bring it about, such a loaf 
should be worth twenty pence ere half a year. 
The monk thought he would rather die than 
that this should come to pass. " And anon 
the monk went unto his abbot and was shrived 
of him, and told the abbot all that the king 
said, and prayed his abbot to assoil him, for 
he would give the king such a wassail that all 
England should be glad and joyful thereof. 
Then went the monk into a garden, and found 
a toad therein, and took her up, and put her 
in a cup, and filled it with good ale, and 

pricked her in every place, in the cup, till the 
venom came out in every place, and brought 
it before the king, and kneeled, and said : 
' Sir, wassail : for never in your life drank ye 
of such a cup.' ' Begin, monk,' said the king : 
and the monk drank a great draught, and took 
the king the cup, and the king also drank a 
great draught, and set down the cup. The 
monk anon went to the firmary, and there 
died anon, on whose soul God have mercy, 
amen. And five monks sing for his soul es- 
pecially, and shall while the abbey standeth. 
The king was anon full evil at ease, and com- 
manded to remove the table, and asked after 
the monk ; and men told him that he was 
dead, for his womb was broke in sunder. 
When the king heard this tiding, he com- 
manded for to truss : but all it was for nought, 
for his belly began to swell from the drink 
that he drank, that he died within two days, 
the morrow after Saint Luke's day." Min- 
strelsy, III, 287 f. The same story in Eulo- 
gium Historiarum, ed. Haydon, m, 109 f. 

B and K c are translated by Grundtvig, 
Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 284, 286. 
D, by W. Grimm, 3 Altschottische Lieder, p. 
3 ; by Schubart, p. 177 ; Arndt, p. 229 ; Doen- 
niges, p. 79 ; Gerhardt, p. 83 : Knortz, L. u. 
R. Alt-Englands, p. 174. K a by Fiedler, 
Geschichte der volksthiimlichen schottischen 
Liederdichtung, 11, 268. German C is trans- 
lated by Jamieson, Illustrations, p. 320 : Swed- 
ish A by W. and M. Howitt, Literature and 
Romance of Northern Europe, I, 265. 

From a small manuscript volume lent me by Mr William 
Macmath, of Edinburgh, containing four pieces written in or 
about 1710, and this ballad in a later hand. Charles Mackie, 
August, 1808, is scratched upon the binding. 

1 ' O WHERE ha you been, Lord Randal, my 
And where ha you been, my handsome young 

' I ha been at the greenwood ; mother, mak my 

bed soon, 
For I 'm wearied wi hunting, and fain wad lie 


2 ' An wha met ye there, Lord Randal, my 
An wha met you there, my handsome young 
man? ' 

* A golden bird, sitting on the bride's hand, sings, " You 
had better not go there ; you will have a bad mother-in-law 

and a bad father-in-law." There are ill omens also in Pas- 
sow, No 457. 



* O I met wi my true-love ; mother, mak my 

bed soon, 
For I 'm wearied wi huntin, an fain wad lie 

3 ' And what did she give you. Lord Randal, my 

And what did she give you, my handsome 

young man ? ' 
'Eels fried in a pan; mother, mak my bed 

For I'm wearied wi huntin, and fain wad lie 


4 ' And wha gat your leavins, Lord Randal, my 

And wha gat your leavins, my handsom young 
man ?' 

* My hawks and my hounds ; mother, mak my 

bed soon, 
For I 'm wearied wi hunting, and fain wad lie 

5 ' And what becam of them. Lord Randal, my 

son ? 
And what becam of them, my handsome young 
man ?' 

* They stretched their legs out an died ; mother, 

mak my bed soon. 
For I 'm wearied wi huntin, and fain wad lie 

6 ' O I fear you are poisoned. Lord Randal, my 

son ! 
I fear you are poisoned, my handsome young 
man ! ' 

* O yes, I am poisoned ; mother, mak my bed 

For I 'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie 

7 ' What d' ye leave to your mother. Lord Ran- 

dal, my son ? 
What d' ye leave to your mother, my handsome 
young man ? ' 

* Four and twenty milk kye ; mother, mak my 

bed soon. 
For I 'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie 

8 ' What d' ye leave to your sister, Lord Ran- 

dal, my son? 
What d' ye leave to your sister, my handsome 
young man ? ' 

* My gold and my silver ; mother, mak my bed 

For I 'm sick at the heart, an I fain wad lie 

9 ' What d' ye leave to your brother, Lord Ran- 

dal, my son ? 

What d' ye leave to your brother, my hand- 
some young man ? ' 

' My houses and my lands ; mother, mak my 
bed soon, 

For I 'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie 

10 * What d' ye leave to your true-love. Lord Ran- 
dal, my son ? 
What d' ye leave to your true-love, my hand- 

some young man 


' I leave her hell and fire ; mother, mak my 

bed soon. 
For I 'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie 



Einloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 110. From Mrs 
Comie, Aberdeen. 

1 ' O WHABE hae ye been a' day, Lord Donald, 
my son ? 
whare hae ye been a' day, my jollie young 

* I 've been awa courtin ; mither, mak my bed 

For I 'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie 


2 ' What wad ye hae for your supper, Lord Don? 
aid, my son ? 
What wad ye hae for your supper, my jollie 

young man 




* I 've gotten my supper ; mither, mak my 

bed sune, 
For I 'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie 

3 ' What did ye get for your supper, Lord Don- 

ald, my son ? 
What did ye get for your supper, my jollie 
young man ? ' 

* A dish of sma fishes ; mither mak my bed 

For I 'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie 

4 ' Whare gat ye the fishes, Lord Donald, my 

son ? 
Whare gat ye the fishes, my jollie young 

man ?' 
' In my father's black ditches ; mither, mak 

my bed sune. 
For I 'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie 


5 ' What like were your fishes, Lord Donald, my 

What like were your fishes, my jollie young 
man ? ' 

* Black backs and spreckld bellies ; mither, 

mak my bed sune. 
For I 'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie 

6 ' I fear ye are poisond, Lord Donald, my 

I fear ye are poisond, my jollie young 

man ! ' 
' yes ! I am poisond ; mither mak my bed 

For I 'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie 


7 ' What will ye leave to your father. Lord Don- 

ald my son ? 
What will ye leave to your father, my joUie 

young man ? ' 
' Baith my houses and land ; mither, mak my 

bed sune. 
For I 'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie 


8 ' What will ye leave to your brither. Lord 

Donald, my son ? 
What will ye leave to your brither, my jollie 

young man ? ' 
' My horse and the saddle ; mither, mak my 

bed sune. 
For I 'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie 


9 ' What will ye leave to your sister. Lord 

Donald, my son ? 
What will ye leave to your sister, my jollie 

young man ? ' 
' Baith my gold box and rings ; mither, mak 

my bed sune. 
For I 'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie 


10 ' What wiU ye leave to your true-love, Lord 
Donald, my son ? 
What win ye leave to your true-love, my joUie 

young man 


* The tow and the halter, for to hang on yon 

And lat her hang there for the poysoning o 


Motherwell's MS., p. 69. From the recitation of Marga- 
ret Bain, in the parish of Blackford, Perthshire, 

1 ' What 's become of your hounds. King Hen- 
rie, my son ? 
What 's become of your hoimds, my pretty lit- 
tle one ? ' 

* They all died on the way ; mother, make my 

bed soon, 
For I 'm sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie 


2 * What gat ye to your supper, King Henry, my 
son ? 
What gat ye to your supper, my pretty little 



* I gat fish boiled in broo ; mother, mak my bed 

For I 'm sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie 


* The keys of my coffers and all that 's therein ; 

mother, mak my bed soon. 
For I 'm sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie 


3 * What like were the fish. King Henry, my 

son ? 
What like were the fish, my pretty little one ? ' 
' They were spreckled on the back and white 

on the belly ; mother, make my bed soon, 
For I 'm sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie 


4 ' What leave ye to your father, King Henry, 

my son ? 

What .leave ye to your father, my pretty little 
one ? ' 

* The keys of Old Ireland, and all that 's there- 
in ; mother, make my bed soon, 

For I 'm sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie 

5 ' What leave ye to your brother, King Henry, 

my son ? 
What leave ye to your brother, my pretty little 

6 * What leave ye to your sister. King Henty, 

my son ? 
What leave ye to your sister, my pretty little 

one ? ' 
' The world 's wide, she may go beg ; mother, 

mak my bed soon, 
For I 'm sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie 


7 ' What leave ye to your trew-love. King Henry, 
my son ? 

What leave ye to your trew-love, my pretty 
little one ? ' 

* The highest hill to hang her on, for she 's poi- 
soned me and my hounds aU ; mother, 
make my bed soon. 

Oh I 'm sick to the heart, and I fain wald lie 

Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, 1803, in, 292. 

1 ■ ' O WHERE hae ye been, Lord Randal, my 

O where hae ye been, my handsome young 

' I hae been to the wild wood ; mother, make 

my bed soon, 
For I 'm weary wi hxmting, and fain wald lie 


2 ' Where gat ye your dinner, Lord Randal, my 

' I gat eels boUd in broo ; mother, make my 

bed soon. 
For I 'm weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie 


4 * What became of your bloodhounds. Lord Ran- 
dal, my son ? 
What became of your bloodhounds, my hand- 

some young man 


' they swelld and they died ; mother, make 

my bed soon, 
For I 'm weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie 


Where gat ye your dinner, my handsome young 5 ' I fear ye are poisond, Lord Randal, my 

* I din'd wi my true-love ; mother, make my 

bed soon. 
For I 'm weary wi hunting, and fain wald lie 


3 ' What gat ye to your diimer, Lord Randal, my 
What gat ye to your dinner, my handsome 
young man ? ' 

I fear ye are poisond, my handsome yoimg 

1 ' 

' O yes ! I am poisond ; mother, make my bed 

For I 'm sick at the heart, and I fain .wald lie 



12. LORD RANDAL 161 

' I got eels boild in brue ; mither, mak my bed 

Halliwell's Popular Rhymes and Nursery Tales, p. 261. 
" A version still popular in Scotland," 1849. 

1 ' Ah where have you been, Lairde Rowlande, 

my son ? 
Ah where have you been, Lairde Rowlande, 

my son ? ' 
' I 've been in the wild woods ; mither, mak my 

bed soon. 
For I 'm weary wi hunting, and f aine would lie 


2 ' Oh you 've been at your true love's, Lairde 

Rowlande, my son ! 
Oh you 've been at your true-love's, Lairde 

Rowlande, my son ! ' 
' I 've been at my true-love's ; mither, mak my 

bed soon, 
For I 'm weary wi hunting, and faine would lie 


3 ' What got you to dinner, Lairde Rowlande, my 

son ? 
What got you to dinner, Lairde Rowlande, my 

For I 'm weary wi hunting, and faine would 
lie down.' 

4 ' What 's become of your warden, Lairde Row- 

lande, my son ? 

What 's become of your warden, Lairde Row- 
lande, my son ? ' 

' He died in the muirlands ; mither, mak my 
bed soon. 

For I 'm weary wi hunting, and faine would 
lie down.' 

5 ' What 's become of your stag-hounds, Lairde 

Rowlande, my son ? 
What 's become of your stag-hounds, Lairde 

Rowlande, my son ? ' 
* They swelled and they died ; mither, mak my 

bed soon. 
For I 'm weary wi hunting, and faine would lie 



Johnson's Museum, No 327, p. 337. Communicated by 

1 ' O WHEKE hae ye been. Lord Ronald, my 

O where hae ye been. Lord Ronald, my son ? ' 
' I hae been wi my sweetheart ; mother, make 

my bed soon. 
For I 'm weary wi the hunting, and fain wad 

lie down.' . 

2 ' What got ye frae your sweetheart. Lord Ron- 
ald, my son ? 

What got ye frae your sweetheart. Lord Ron- 
ald, my son ? ' 

' I hae got deadly poison ; mother, make my 
bed soon. 

For life is a burden that soon I 'U lay down.' 


Illustrations of Northern Antiquities, p. 319. Originally 
from a clergyman's daughter, in Suffolk. 

1 ' Where have you been today, BUly, my son ? 
Where have you been today, my only man ? ' 
' I 've been a wooing ; mother, make my bed 

For I'm sick at heart, and fain would lay 


2 ' What have you ate today, Billy, my son ? 
What have you ate today, my only man ? ' 
' I 've ate eel-pie ; mother, make my bed 

For I 'm sick at heart, and shall die before 




Taken down by me, February, 1881, from the recitation of 
Ellen Healy, as repeated to her by a young girl at " Lacka- 
baim," Kerry, Ireland, about 1868. 

1 ' Where was you all day, my own pretty boy ? 
Where was you all day, my comfort and joy ? ' 
' I was fishing and fowling ; mother, make my 

bed soon. 
There 's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie 

2 * What did you have for your breakfast, my 

own pretty boy ? 

What did you have for your breakfast, my com- 
fort and joy ? ' 

' A cup of strong poison ; mother, make my 
bed soon, 

There 's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie 

3 ' I fear you are poisoned, my own pretty boy, 
I fear you are poisoned, my comfort and joy ! ' 
' O yes, I am poisoned ; mother, make my bed 

There 's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie 

4 ' What will you leave to your father, my own 

pretty boy ? 

What will you leave to your father, my com- 
fort and joy ? ' 

' I '11 leave him my house and my property ; 
mother, make my bed soon. 

There 's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie 

6 ' What will you leave to your mother, my own 
pretty boy ? 

What win you leave to your mother, my com- 
fort and joy ? ' 

' I '11 leave her my coach and four horses ; 
mother, make my bed soon. 

There 's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie 

6 ' What will you leave to your brother, my own 
pretty boy ? 
What will you leave to your brother, my com- 
fort and joy ? * 

' I '11 leave him my bow and my fiddle ; 

mother, make my bed soon. 
There 's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie 


7 ' What will you leave to your sister, my own 

pretty boy ? 
What will you leave to your sister, my comfort 

and joy ? ' 
* I '11 leave her my gold and my silver ; 

mother, make my bed soon. 
There 's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie 


8 ' What will you leave to your servant, my own 

pretty boy ? 

What will you leave to your servant, my com- 
fort and joy ? ' 

' I '11 leave him the key of my small silver box ; 
mother, make my bed soon, 

There 's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie 

9 ' What will you leave to your children, my own 

pretty boy ? 

What will you leave to your children, my com- 
fort and joy ? ' 

' The world is wide all round for to beg ; 
mother, make my bed soon, 

There 's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie 

10 ' What will you leave to your wife, my own 

pretty boy ? 
What will you leave to your wife, my comfort 

and joy ? ' 
' I '11 leave her the gallows, and plenty to hang 

her ; mother, make my bed soon. 
There 's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie 


11 ' Where shall I make it, my own pretty boy ? 
Where shall I make it, my comfort and joy ? ' 

' Above in the churchyard, and dig it down 

Put a stone to my head and a flag to my 

And leave me down easy until I '11 take a long 




a. Communicated by Mrs L. F. Wesselhoeft, of Boston, 
as sung to her when a child bj' her grandmother, Elizabeth 
Foster, born in Maine, who appears to have learned the bal- 
lad of her mother about 1800. b. By a daughter of Eliza- 
beth Foster, as learned about 1820. c. By Miss Ellen Mars- 
ton, of New Bedford, as learned from her mother, born 1778. 
d. By Mrs Gushing, of Cambridge, Mass., as learned in 
1838 from a schoolmate, who is thought to have derived 
it from an old nurse, e. By Mrs Augustus Lowell, of Bos- 
ton, f. By Mrs Edward Atkinson, of Boston, learned of 
Mrs A. Lowell, in girlhood, g. By Mrs A. Lowell, as de- 
rived from a friend. 

1 ' WHERE have you been, Tiranti, my son ? 
O where have you been, my sweet little one ? ' 

' I have been to my grandmother's ; mother, 

make my bed soon, 
For I 'm sick to my heart, and I 'm faint to lie 


2 ' What did you have for your supper, Tiranti, 

my son ? 
What did you have for your supper, my sweet 

little one ? ' 
* I had eels fried in butter ; mother, make my 

bed soon, 
For I 'm sick to my heart, and I 'm faint to lie 


3 ' Where did the eels come from, Tiranti, my 

Where did the eels come from, my sweet little 

one ?' 
' From the corner of the haystack ; mother, 

make oiy bed soon, 
For I 'm sick to my heart, and I 'm faint to lie 


4 ' What color were the eels, Tiranti, my son ? 
What color were the eels, my sweet little 


' They were streaked and striped ; mother, 

make my bed soon. 
For I 'm sick to my heart, and I 'm faint to 

lie down.' 

5 ' What '11 you give to your father, Tiranti, my 


What '11 you give to your father, my sweet lit- 
tle one ? ' 

' All my gold and my silver ; mother, make 
my bed soon. 

For I 'm sick to my heart, and I 'm faint to lie 

6 ' What '11 you give to your mother, Tiranti, my 

What '11 you give to your mother, my sweet 

little one ? ' 
' A coach and six horses ; mother, make my 

bed soon, 
For I 'm sick to my heart, and I 'm faint to lie 


7 ' What 'U you give to your grandmother, Ti- 

ranti, my son ? 
What '11 you give to your grandmother, my 

sweet little one ? ' 
' A halter to hang her ; mother, make my bed 

For I 'm sick to my heart, and I 'm faint to lie 


8 ' Where 'U you have your bed made, Tiranti, 

my son ? 
Where '11 you have your bed made, my sweet 

little one ? ' 
' In the corner of the churchyard ; mother, 

make my bed soon. 
For I 'm sick to my heart, and I 'm faint to lie 


Motherwell's MS., p. 238. From the recitation of Miss 
Maxwell, of Brediland. 

1 ' O WHARE hae ye been a' day, my bonnie wee 
croodlin dow ? 
whare hae ye been a' day, my bonnie wee 
croodlin dow ? ' 

' I 've been at my step-mother's ; oh mak my 

bed, mammie, now ! 
I 've been at my step-mother's ; oh mak my 

bed, mammie, now ! ' 

2 ' O what did ye get at your step-mother's, my 
bonnie wee croodlin dow ? ' \^Twice.'\ 
' I gat a wee wee fishie ; oh mak my bed. mam- 
mie, now ! ' \_Twice.'] 



3 ' O whare gat she the wee fishie, my bonnie 
wee croodlin dow ? ' 
' In a dub before the door ; oh mak my bed, 

mammie, now 

4 ' What did ye wi the wee fishie, my bonnie wee 
croodlin dow ? ' 
* I boild it in a wee pannie ; oh mak my bed. 

mammy, now 

5 ' Wha gied ye the banes o the fishie till, my 
bonnie wee croodlin dow ? ' 

' I gied them till a wee doggie ; oh mak my bed, 

mammie, now 

1 ' 

6 ' whare is the little wee doggie, my bonnie 

wee croodlin dow ? 
whare is the little wee doggie, my bonnie 

wee croodlin doo ? ' 
' It shot out its fit and died, and sae maun I do 

too ; 
Oh mak my bed, mammy, now, now, oh mak 

my bed, mammy, now ! ' 

a. Chambers' Scottish Ballads, p. 324. b. Chambers' 
Popular Rhymes of Scotland, 1842, p. 53. c. The Sten- 
house-Laing ed. of Johnson's Museum, iv, 364*, communi- 
cated by Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe. 

1 ' WHAUB hae ye been a' the day, my little 

wee croodlin doo ? ' 
' O I 've been at my grandmother's ; mak my 
bed, mammie, now ! ' 

2 ' O what gat ye at your grandmother's, my lit- 

tle wee croodlin doo ? ' 
' I got a bonnie wee fishie ; mak my bed, mam- 
mie, now ! ' 

3 ' whaur did she catch the fishie, my bonnie 

wee croodlin doo ? ' 

' She catchd it in the gutter hole ; mak my bed, 
mammie, now ! ' 

4 ' And what did she do wi the fish, my little wee 
croodlin doo ? ' 
' She boiled it in a brass pan ; mak my bed. 

mammie, now 

5 ' And what did ye do wi the banes o't, my 

bonnie wee croodlin doo ? ' 
' I gied them to my little dog ; mak my bed, 
mammie, now ! ' 

6 ' And what did your little doggie do, my bonnie 

wee croodlin doo ? ' 
* He stretched out his head, his feet, and deed ; 
and so will I, mammie, now ! ' 

Buchan's MSS, ii, 322 ; Ballads of the North of Scotland, 
II, 179. 

1 * Whar hae ye been a' the day, Willie doo, 
Willie doo ? 
Whar hae ye been a' the day, Willie, my 

4 ' She gae me a speckled trout ; make my bed, 

lay me down ; 
She gae me a speckled trout, die shall I now ! ' 

5 ' Whar got she the speckled trout, Willie doo, 

Willie doo ? ' 
' She got it amang the heather hills ; die shall I 

2 ' I 've been to see my step-mother ; make my 

bed, lay me down ; 
Make my bed, lay me down, die shall I now ! ' 

3 * What got ye frae your step-mother, Willie 

doo, Willie doo ? 
What got ye frae your step-mother, WiUie, my 

6 ' What did she boil it in, Willie doo, Willie 

' She boild it in the billy-pot ; die shall I now ! ' 

7 ' What gaed she you for to drink, Willie doo, 

Willie doo? 
What gaed she you for to drink, Willie, my , 



8 ' She gaed me hemlock stocks ; make my bed, 9 They made his bed, laid him down, poor Wil- 

lay me down ; lie doo, Willie doo ; 

Made in the brewing pot ; die shall I now ! ' He tumd his face to the wa ; he 's dead now ! 


Popular Rhymes of Scotland, 1870, p. 51. " Mrs Lock- 
hart's copy." 

1 ' Where hae ye been a' the day, my bonny wee 

croodin doo ? ' 
' O I hae been at my stepmother's house ; make 

my bed, mammie, now, now, now, 
Make my bed, mammie, now ! ' 

2 * Where did ye get your dinner ? ' my, etc. 
* I got it at my stepmother's ; ' make, etc. 

3 ' What did she gie ye to your dinner ? ' 
' She gae me a little four-footed fish.' 

4 ' Where got she the four-footed fish ? ' 

' She got it down in yon well strand ; ' O make, 

5 ' What did she do with the banes o't ? ' 
' She gae them to the little dog.' 

6 ' O what became o the little dog ? ' 

' it shot out its feet and died ; ' O make, etc. 


Kinloch's MSS, v, 347. In Dr John Hill Burton's hand. 

1 ' Fare hae ye been a' day, a' day, a' day. 
Fare hae ye been a' day, my little wee croud- 

lin doo ? ' 

2 ' I 'ye been at my step-mammie's, my step- 

mammie's, my step-mammie's, 
I 've been at my step-mammie's ; come mack my 
beddy now ! ' 

3 ' What got ye at yer step-mammie's. 
My little wee croudlin doo ? ' 

4 ' She gied me a spreckled fishie ; 
Come mack my beddy now ! ' 

5 ' What did ye wi the baenies oet, 
My little wee croudlin doo ? ' 

6 ' I gaed them till her little dogie ; 
Come mack my beddy now ! ' 

7 ' What did her little dogie syne. 
My little wee croudlin doo ? ' 

8 ' He laid down his heed and feet ; 
And sae shall I dee now ! ' 

From a manuscript collection, copied out in 1840 or 1850, 
by a granddaughter of Alexander Fraser-Tytler, p. 67. 

1 ' O WHERE hae ye been a' the day, my wee wee 

croodlin doo doo ? 
O where hae ye been a' the day, my bonnie 
wee croodlin doo ? ' 

* O I hae been to my step-mammie's ; mak my 

bed, mammy, noo, noo, 
Mak my bed, mammy, noo ! ' 

2 ' O what did yere step-mammie gie to you ? ' 


* She gied to me a wee wee fish,' etc. 

3 ' [O] what did she boU the wee fishie in ? ' 

* O she boiled it in a wee wee pan ; it turned 

baith black an blue, blue, 
It turned baith black an blue.' 

4 ' An what did she gie the banes o't to ? ' 

' she gied them to a wee wee dog ; ' mak, 

5 ' An what did the wee wee doggie do then ? ' 

' it put out its tongue and its feet, an it 

deed ; an sae maun I do noo, noo. 
An sae luaun I do noo ! ' 



C. 4'. your father, King Henry, my son. 

I. a. 1*. faint to, an obvious corruption of fain to, 
is found also iw b, c ; d has fain wad ; e, 
faint or fain ; f , fain ; g, I faint to. 
N. B. 8 stands 5 in the MS. copy, hut is the 
last stanza in all others which have it. 

b. 2}. for your dinner. 
Aft&r 2 follows : 

Who cooked you the eels, Tiranti, my son ? 

't was my grandmother ; mother, make my 

bed soon, etc. 

b 5 = a 3 : ^. Where did she get the eels ? etc. 

^. By the side of the haystack, etc. 

b 6 = a 7 : 7 = a 8 : 8 = a 5. 8*. and die to 

lie down, 
a 6 is wanting in b. 

c. 1*. at my heart {and always). 

2\ O what di4 she give you ? etc. '. Striped 
eels fried, etc. 

3 = a 4. ■^. O how did they look ? etc. 

®. Ringed, streaked, and speckled, etc. 

4 = a 3. ^. O where did they come from ? 
5^. O what win you give your father, my 

son ? 
^. O what wiU you give him ? 
^. A coach and six horses. ' 

■ 6^ O what will you give your mother, my 
son ? as in 5. 
'. All my gold and my silver. 
. 7\ what will you give your granny ? as 
in 5. 
S\ where '11, etc. 
c adds, as 9 : 

So this is the end of Tiranti my son, 
So this is the end of my sweet little one : 
His grandmother poisoned him with an old 

dead snake. 
And he left her a halter to hang by the 


d. IS etc. Tyrante. 

'.01 've been to my uncle's, etc. 
*. and fain wad lie doun. 
2*. eels and fresh butter. 

3 = a 4. '. black striped with yellow. 

4 = a 7. ^. What '11 ye will to your mither ? 

*. My gold and my silver. 

5 = a 6. \ What '11 ye will to your father ? 

*. My coach and my horses. 

6 = a 8. ^. What 'U you will to your uncle ? 
3, 5 o/ a are wanting. 

e. 1*. For I 'm sick at heart, and faint [fain] 

to lie down. 
3 = a 7. ^. What will you leave your moth- 
er ? 
'. A box full of jewels. 
4}. What wiU you leave your sister ? 
'. A box of fine clothing. 

5 = a 8. ^. A rope to hang her with. 

6 = a 5. ^ Where shall 1 make it ? 
3, 4 o/ a are wanting. 

f . This copy was derived from the singing of 

the lady who communicated e, and they 
naturally agree closely. 
1*. fain to lie down. f3 = e4:f4 = e3. 

g. 1*. For I 'm sick at the heart, and I faint 

td lie down. 
2^. What did you get at your grandmoth- 
er's ? 
*. I got eels stewed in butter. 

3 =: a 8. ^. What will you leave .... 
4}. What will you leave to your brother ? 

*. A full suit of mourning. 

5 = a 7. ^. leave to your mother. 

^. A carriage and fine horses. 

6 = a 5. 

3, 4 o/" a are wanting. 
K. a, b, c are printed, in the publications in 
which they occur, in four-line stanzas. 
b. Omits 4. 

6^. the little doggie. ^. as I do, mammie, 
c. 1^. my bonnie wee crooden doo : and al- 
^. at my step-mither's. 
2. And what did scho gie you to eat . . . 

Scho gied to me a wee fishie .... 
3^. An what did she catch the fishie in . . . 

4 is wanting. 

L. Written in the MS., and printed by Buchan, 

in stanzas of 4: lines. 
M. Printed by Chambers in stanzas of 4 lines, the 

last repeated. 
N. The second line of each stanza is written as 

two in the MS. 
O. The stanza, being written with short lines in 

the manuscript, is of seven lines, including 

the repetitions. 



13 ' 

A. a. Motherwell's MS., p. 139. b. Motherwell's Min- B. Percy's Reliques, 1765, i, 53. Communicated by 
strelsy, p. 339. From recitation. . • Sir David Dalrymple. 

C. MS. of A. Lains, one stanza. 

A b, " given from tlie recitation of an old 
woman," is evidently A a slightly regulated 
by Motherwell. B, we are informed in the 
4th edition of the Reliques, p. 61, was sent 
Percy by Sir David Dalrymple, Lord Hailes. 
Motherwell thought there- was reason to be- 
lieve *' that his lordship made a few slight ver- 
bal improvements on the copy he transmitted, 
and altered the hero's name to Edward, — 
a name which, by the bye, never occurs in a 
Scottish ballad, except where allusion is made 
to an English king." * Dalrymple, at least, 
would not be likely to change a Scotch for an 
English name. The Bishop might doubtless 
prefer Edward to Wat, or Jock, or even Da- 
vie. But as there is no evidence that any 
change of name was made, the point need 
not be discussed. As for other changes, the 
word " brand," in the first stanza, is possibly 
more literary than popular; further than this 
the language is entirely fit. The affectedly an- 
tique spelling t in Percy's copy has given rise 
to vague suspicions concerning the authen- 
ticity of the ballad, or of the language : but as 
spelling will not make an old ballad, so it will 
not unmake one. We have, but do not need, 

the later traditional copy to prove the other 
genuine. 'Edward' is not only unimpeach- 
able, but has ever been regarded as one of 
the noblest and most sterling specimens of 
the popular ballad. 

Motherwell seems to incline to regard ' Ed- 
ward ' rather as a detached portion of a ballad 
than as complete in itself. " The verses of 
which it consists," he says, " generally con- 
clude the ballad of ' The Twa Brothers,' and 
also some versions of ' Lizie Wan : ' " Min- 
strelsy, Lxvii, 12. The Finnish parallel 
which Motherwell refers to, might have con- 
vinced him that the ballad is complete as it 
is ; and he knew as well as anybody that one 
ballad is often appended to another by reciters, 
to lengthen the story or improve the conclu- 
sion.:}: More or less of ' Edward ' will be found 
in four versions of ' The Twa Brothers ' and 
two of ' Lizie Wan,' further on in this vol- 

This ballad has been familiarly known to 
have an exact counterpart in Swedish. There 
are four versions, differing only as to length : 
' Sven i Rosengard,' A, Afzelius, No 67, in, 
4, eleven two-line stanzas, with three more 

* An eager " Englishman " might turn Motherwell's ob- 
jection to the name into an argument for ' Edward ' being an 
" English " ballad. 

t That is to say, initial quh and z for modern wh and y, 
for nothing else would have excited attention. Perhaps a 
transcriber thought he ought to give the language a look 
at least as old as Gavin Douglas, who spells quhy, dots, 
^our. The quh would serve a purpose, if understood as in- 
dicating that the aspirate was not to be dropped, as it often 
is in English why. The z is the successor of 3, and was 

meant to be pronounced y, as z is, or was, pronounced in 
gaberlunzie and other Scottish words. See Dr J. A. H. Mur- 
ray's Dialect of the Southern Counties of Scotland, pp. 118, 
129. Since quh and z serve rather as rocks of offence than 
landmarks, I have thought it best to use wh and y. 

X Motherwell also speaks of a ballad of the same nature 
as quoted in Werner's ' Twenty-Fourth of February.' The 
stanza cited (in Act I, Scene 1) seems to be Herder's trans- 
lation of ' Edward ' given from memory. 


XfftM^X^) ^ '^^f, ^^^-^j tut iC ^UJ u^ 



lines of burden ; B, III, 3, six stanzas (Berg- 
strom's ed., No 54, 1,2); C, Arwidsson, No 
87 A, n, 83, eighteen stanzas ; D, No 87 B, 
n, 86, sixteen stanzas. The same in Danish : 
A, Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folke- 
viser, p. 175, nine stanzas ; B, Boisen, Nye 
og gamle Viser, 10th ed.. No 95, p. 185, 
' Brodermordet.' And in Finnish, probably 
derived from the Swedish, but with traits of 
its own: A, Schroter's Finnische Runen, p. 
124, ' Werinen Pojka,' The Bloodstained Son, 
fifteen two-line stanzas, with two lines of re- 
frain; B, ' Velisurmaaja,' Brother-Murderer, 
Kanteletar, p. x, twenty stanzas. 

All these are a dialogue between mother 
and son, with a question and answer in each 
stanza. The mother asks. Where have you 
been ? The son replies that he has been in 
the stable [Danish, grove, fields ; Finnish A, 
on the sea-strand]. " How is 'it that your foot 
is bloody ? " * [clothes, shirt ; Finnish, " How 
came your jerkin muddy?" etc.] A horse 
has kicked or trod on him. " How came your 
sword so bloody ? " He then confesses that he 
has killed his brother. [Swedish D and the 
Danish copies have no question about the foot, 
etc.] Then follows a series of questions as to 
what the son will do with himself, and what 
shall become of his wife, children, etc., which 
are answered much as in the English ballad. 
Finally, in all, the mother asks when he will 
come back, and he replies (with some varia- 
tions), When crows are white. And that will 
be ? When swans are black. And that ? 
When stones float. And that ? When feath- 
ers sink, etc. This last feature, stupidly ex- 
aggerated in some copies, and even approach- 
ing burlesque, is one of the commonplaces of 
ballad poetry, and may or may not have been, 

* We have a similar passage in most of the copies of the 
third class of the German ballads corresponding to No 4. A 
brother asks the man who has killed his sister why his shoes 
[sword, hands] are bloody. See p. 36, p. 38. So in ' Herr 
Axel,' Arwidsson, No 46, i, 308. 

t These have perhaps been adapted to the stanza of ' The 

from the beginning, a part of the ballads in 
which it occurs. Such a conclusion could not 
be made to adhere to ' Edwai-d,' the last stanza 
of which is peculiar in implicating the mother 
in the guilt of the murder. Several versions 
of ' The Twa Brothers' preserve this trait, and 
' Lizie Wan ' also. 

The stanza of this ballad was originally, in 
all probability, one of two lines — a question 
and an answer — with refrains, as we find it 
in A 10, 11, 12, and the corresponding Swed- 
ish and Finnish ballad ; and in ' Lord Randal,' 
J, K, etc., and also the corresponding Swedish 
and German ballad. A 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 8, 9 are 
now essentially stanzas of one line, with re- 
frains ; that is, the story advances in these at 
that rate. A 4, 7 (= C) are entirely irregu- 
lar, substituting narrative or descriptive cir- 
cumstances for the last line of the refrain, 
and so far forth departing from primitive sim- 
plicity.! The stanza in B embraces always 
a question and a reply, but for what is re- 
frain in other forms of the ballad we have 
epical matter in many cases. A 1, 2, sub- 
stantially, = Bl;A3, 4=iB2; A 5, 6 = 
B3; A8, 9=B4; A 11 = 6; A 12= 7. 

Testaments such as this ballad ends with 
have been spoken of under No 11. 

A is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og 
skotske Folkeviser, No 26, p. 172 ; by Rosa 
Warrens, Schottische V. L., No 21, p. 96 ; by* 
Wolff, Halle des Volker, i, 22, and Haus- 
schatz, p. 223. B, in Afzelius, ni, 10 ; " often 
in Danish," Grundtvig ; by Herder, Volkslie- 
der, II, 207; by Doring, p. 217; Gerhard, p. 
88 ; Knortz, Schottische Balladen, No 27. 
Swedish A, by W. and M. Howitt, Literature 
and Romance of Northern Europe, I, 263.J 

Twa Brothers,' with some versions of which, as already re- 
marked, the present ballad is blended. 

J With regard to translations, I may say now, what I 
might well have said earlier, that I do not aim at making a 
complete list, but give such as have fallen under my notice. 



a. Motherwell's MS., p. 139. From Mrs King, Kilbar- 
chan. b. Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 339. 

1 ' What bluid 's that on thy coat lap, 

Son Davie, son Davie ? 
What bluid 's that on thy coat lap ? 
And the truth come teU to me.' 

2 * It is the bluid of my great hawk. 

Mother lady, mother lady : 
It is the bluid of my great havrk. 
And the truth I have told to thee.' 

3 * Hawk's bluid was neer sae red. 

Son Davie, son Davie : 
Hawk's bluid was neer sae red. 
And the truth come tell to me.* 

4 ' It is the bluid of my greyhound, 

Mother lady, mother lady : 
It is the bluid of my greyhound, 
And it wadna rin for me.' 

5 ' Hound's bluid was near sae red, 

Son Davie, son Davie : 
Hound's bluid was neer sae red, 
And the truth come tell to me.' 

6 * It is the bluid o my brither John, 

Mother lady, mother lady : 

It is the bluid o my brither John, 
And the truth I have told to thee.' 

7 ' What about did the plea begin, 

Son Davie, son Davie ? ' 
* It began about the cutting of a willow wand 
That would never been a tree.* 

8 ' What death dost thou desire to die, 

Son Davie, son Davie ? 
What death dost thou desire to die ? 
And the truth come teU to me.' 

9 ' I 'U set my foot in a bottomless ship. 

Mother lady, mother lady : 
I 'U set my foot in a bottomless ship. 
And ye '11 never see mair o me.' 

10 * What wilt thou leave to thy poor wife. 

Son Davie, son Davie ? ' 
' Grief and sorrow all her life. 
And she '11 never see mair o me.' 

11 ' What wilt thou leave to thy old son. 

Son Davie, son Davie ? ' 
' I '11 leave him the weary world to wander up 
and down. 
And he '11 never get mair o me.' 

12 * What wilt thou leave to thy mother dear. 

Son Davie, son Davie ? ' 
' A fire o coals to burn her, wi hearty cheer. 
And she 'U never get mair o me.' 


Percy's Reliques, 1765, i, 53. Communicated by Sir 
David Dalrymple. 

1 ' Wht dois your brand sae drap wi bluid, 

Edward, Edward, 
Why dois your brand sae drap wi bluid, 

And why sae sad gang yee ? ' 
* O I hae killed my hauke sae guid, 

Mither, mither, 
I hae killed my hauke sae guid. 

And I had nae mair hot hee 0.' 

2 * Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid, 

Edward, Edward, 
Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid. 
My deir son I tell thee O.' 

' I hae kiUed my reid-roan steid, 

Mither, mither, 
I hae killed my reid-roan steid. 

That erst was sae fair and frie 0.* 

3 ' Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair, 

Edward, Edward, 
Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair, 

Sum other dule ye drte O.' 
* I hae killed my fadir deir, 

Mither, mither, 
O I hae killed my fadir deir, 

Alas, and wae is mee O ! ' 

4 ' And whatten penance wul ye drie, for that, 

Edward, Edward ? 




And whatten penance will ye drie for that? 
My deir son, now tell me O.' 

* He set my f eit in yonder boat, 

Mither, mither, 
De set my feit in yonder boat, 

And He fare ovir the sea O.' 

5 * And what wul ye doe wi your towirs and 

your ha, 

Edward, Edward ? 
And what wul ye doe wi your towirs and your 

That were sae fair to see ? ' 

* He let thame stand tul they doun fa, 

Mither, mither. 
He let thame stand tul they doun fa, 

For here nevir mair maun I bee 0.' 

6 ' And what wul ye leive to your bairns and 

your wife, 

Edward, Edward? 

And what wul ye leive to your bairns and your 

Whan ye gang ovir the sea ? ' 

* The warldis room, late them beg thrae life, 

Mither, mither, 
The warldis room, late them beg thrae life, 
For thame nevir mair wul I see 0.' 

7 ' And what wul ye leive to your ain mither 

Edward, Edward? 
And what wul ye leive to your ain mither 

My deir son, now tell me O.' 

* The curse of hell frae me sail ye heir, 

Mither, mither, 
The curse of heU frae me sail ye beir, 

Sic counseUs ye gave to me 0.' 

MS. of Alexander Laing, 1829, p. 25. 

* WHAT did the fray begin about ? 
My son, come tell to me : ' 

* It began about the breaking o the bonny hazel 
And a penny wad hae bought the tree.' 

A. b. 1*. tell to me O. And so every fourth line. B. Initial qu/or w and zfor y have been changed 
7*. That would never hae been a tree O. throughout to w and y. 

^ 10*. And she '11 never get mair frae me 0. 6". let. 

11". The weary warld to wander up and 



A. a, b. 'Babylon; or, The Bonnie Banks o Fordie,' C. Motherwell's MS., p. 172. 
Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 88. c. The same, Ap- 
pendix, p. xxii, No xxvi. D. Motherwell's MS., p. 174. 

B. a. Herd's MSS, i, 38, ii, 76. b. « The Banishd E. ' Duke of Perth's Three Daughters,' Kinloch's An- 
Man,' The Scots Magazine, October, 18«3, p. 699, cient Scottish Ballads, p. 212. 

evidently derived from Herd. 



B a is from tradition of the latter half of 
the eighteenth century ; the other copies from 
the earlier part of this. 

Three sisters go out (together, A, B, C, suc- 
cessively, D, E) to gather flowers (A, B, E). 
A banished man (outlyer bold, D, Loudon 
lord, E) starts up from a hiding-place, and 
offers them one after the other the choice of 
being his wife or dying by his hand. 

(A.) ' It 's whether will ye be a rank robber's wife, 
Or will ye die by my wee penknife ? ' 

(D.) * Wiltow twinn with thy maidenhead, or thy 
sweet life ? ' 

The first and the second express a simple 
preference for death, and are killed and laid 
by, "to bear the red rose company" (A). 
The youngest, in A, says she has a brother in 
the wood, who will kill him if he kills her. 
The outlaw asks the brother's name, finds that 
he himself is the man, and takes his own life 
with the same weapon that had shed the blood 
of his sisters. B, C, D have three brothers, 
the youngest of whom is the banished lord 
(C), the outlyer bold (D). The story is de- 
fective in B, C. In D the outlaw, on finding 
what he has done, takes a long race, and falls 
on his knife. The conclusion of B is not so 
finely tragic. A brother John comes riding 
by just as the robber is about to kill the third 
sister, apprehends him by the agency of his 
three pages, and reserves him to be hanged on 
a tree. 

Or thrown into the poisond lake, 
To feed the toads and rattle-snake. 

According to the account given by Herd, 
and repeated by Jamieson, the story of the 
lost conclusion of B made the banished man 
discover that he had killed his two brothers as 
well as his two sisters. 

This ballad, with additional circumstances, 
is familiar to all branches of the Scandinavian 

Danish. There are many versions from 
oral tradition, as yet unprinted, besides these 
two : A, ' Hr. Truels's Dattre,' Danske Viser, 

III, 392, No 164, there reprinted from Sand- 
vig, Beskrivelse over 0en M0en, 1776 : B, 
' Herr Thors Born,' from recent tradition of 
North Sleswig, Berggreen, Danske Folke- 
Sange, 3d ed., p. 88, No 42. 

A. Herr Truels' three daughters oversleep 
their matins one morning, and are roused by 
their mother. If we have overslept our mat- 
ins, they say, we will make up at high mass. 
They set out for church, and in a wood fall in 
with three robbers, who say : 

' Whether will ye be three robbers' wives, 
Or will ye rather lose your lives ? * 

Much rather death, say they. The two elder 
sisters submitted to their fate without a word ; 
the third made a hard resistance. With her 
last breath she adjured the robbers to seek 
a lodging at Herr Truels' that night. This 
they did. They drank so long that they 
drank Herr Truels to bed; Then they asked 
his wife to promise herself to all three. First, 
she said, she must look into their bags. In 
their bags she saw her daughters' trinkets. 
She excused herself for a moment, barred the 
door strongly, roused her husband, and made 
it known to him that these guests had killed 
his three daughters. Herr Truels called on 
all his men to arm. He asked the robbers 
who was their father. They said that they 
had been stolen by robbers, on their way to 
school, one day ; had had a hard life for four- 
teen years ; and the first crime they had com- 
mitted was killing three maids yesterday. 
Herr Truels revealed to them that they had 
murdered their sisters, and offered them new 
clothes, in which they might go away. " Nay," 
they said, " not so ; life for life is meet." 
They were taken out of the town, and their 
heads struck off. B differs from A in only a 
few points. The robbers ask lodging at Herr 
Thor's, as being pilgrims. When he discovers 
their true character, he threatens them with 
the wheel. They say. Shall we come to the 
wheel ? Our father drinks Yule with the 
king. They tell him their story, and their 
father offers them saddle and horse to make 
their best way off. They reply, " We will 



give blood for blood," spread their cloaks on 
the floor, and let their blood run. 

Swedish. 'Pehr Tj^rsons Dottrar i 
Wange.' A, Arwidsson, n, 413, No 166. B, 
Afzelius, ni, 193, No 98 : ed. Bergstrom, i, 
380, No 84, 1. C, Afzelius, ill, 197 : ed. Berg- 
strom, I, 382, No 84, 2, as old as the last half 
of the seventeenth century. D, Afzelius, m, 
202 : ed. Bergstrom, i, 384, No 84, 3. E, " C. 
J. Wesson, De paroecia Kama (an academical 
dissertation), Upsala, 1836," Arwidsson, as 
above, who mentions another unprinted copy 
in the Royal Library. 

A. Herr Tores' daughters overslept matins, 
dressed themselves handsomely, and set off for 
mass. All on the heath they were met by 
three wood-rt)bbers, who demanded. Will ye 
be our wives, or lose your lives ? The first 
answered : God save us from trying either ! 
the second. Rather let us range the world ! 
the third. Better death with honor ! But 

First were they the three wood-robbers' wives, 
And after that they lost their young lives. 

The robbers strip them ; then go and ask to be 
taken in by Herr Tores. He serves them with 
mead a^d wine, but presently begins to wish 
his daughters were at home. His wife sees 
him to bed ; then returns to her guests, who 
offer her a silken sark to pass the night with 
them. "Give me a sight of the silken sark," 
she cries, with prophetic soul : " God have 
mercy on my daughters ! " She rouses her 
husband, and tells him that the robbers have 
slain his bairns. He puts on his armor and 
kills two of them : the third begs to be spared 
till he can say who were his kin ; his father's 
name is Tores! Father and mother resolve 
to build a church for penance, and it shall be 
called Kerna. B, C, D. The girls meet three 
" vallare," strolling men, and none of them 
good (C). The robbers cut off the girls' heads 
on the trunk of a birch (cf. English C 5 : "It 's 
lean your head upon my staff," and with his 
pen-knife he has cutted it aff) : three springs 

• Lyngbye insists on translating vadlarar pilgrims, though 
his people understood the word to mean robbers. He refers 
to the Icelandic vallari, which, originally a pilgrim, came to 
mean a tramp. No one can fail to recognize the character 

burst forth immediately. They go to the 
house, and ask the mother if she will buy 
silken sarks that nine maids have stitched 
(B). She says : 

' Open your sacks, and let me see : 
Mayhap I shall know them all three.' 

The father, in B, when he discovers that he 
has slain his own sons, goes to the smith, and 
has an iron band fastened round his middle. 
The parents vow to build a church as an ex- 
piation, and it shall be called Kerna (B, C). 

Faroe. ' Torkilds Riim, eller St. Catha- 
rinse Vise,' Lyngbye, Faeraiske Qvseder, ^^. 
In this form of the story, as in the Icelandic 
versions which follow, the robbers ai*e not the 
brothers of the maids. Torkild's two daugh- 
ters sleep till the sun shines on their beds. 
Their father wakens them, and tells Katrine 
she is waited for at church. Katrine dresses 
herself splendidly, but does not disdain to sad- 
dle her own horse. 

And since no knave was ready to help, 
Katrine bridled the horse herself. 

And since no knave was standing about, 
Herself put the bit in her horse's mouth. 

First she carae upon three strollers (vadla- 
rar *), then two, then one, and the last asked 
her whether she would pass the night with 
him (vera qvoldar vujv) or die. He cut off 
her head, and wherever her blood ran a light 
kindled ; where her head fell a spring welled 
forth : where her body lay a church was [af- 
terwards] built. The rover came to Torkild's 
house, and the father asked if he had seen 
Katrine. He said she had been at Mary kirk 
the day before, and asked for a lodging, 
feigning to be sick. This was readily granted. 
He went to bed, and Aasa, the other sister, 
waited upon him. He offered her a silken 
sark to sleep with him. Aasa asked to see the 
sark first, and found on it her sister's mark. 

who has become the terror of our rural districts, and to 
whom, in our preposterous regard for the rights of " man," 
we sacrifice the peace, and often the lives, of women. 



The fellow went on to offer her a blue cloak 
and gold crown successively, and on both of 
these she saw her sister's mark. Aasa bade 
him good-night, went to her father, and told 
him that the man they had housed had killed 
his daughter. Torkild ordered his swains 
to light a pile in the wood : early the next 
morning they burned the murderer on it. 

Icelandic. Five Icelandic versions, and the 
first stanza of two more, are given in Islenzk 
Fornkv£e?5i, i, 108 ff, No 15, ' Vallara kv£e?5i.' 

The story is nearly the same as in the Faroe 
ballad. Two of Thorkell's daughters sleep 
till after the sun is up (B, C). They wash 
and dress ; they set out for church (C). On 
the heath they encounter a strolling man, A ; a 
tall, large man, C, E ; a horseman or knight, D. 
He greets them : " Why will ye not speak ? 
Are ye come of elves, or of kings them- 
selves ? " A [Are ye come of earls, or of 
beggar-churls ? B] . They answei*, We are 
not come of elves, nor of kings themselves; 
we are Thorkell's daughters, and serve Mary 
kirk. He asks. Will ye choose to lose your 
life, or shall I rather take you to wife ? 
The choice, they say, is hard : they would 
rather die. He kills them and buries them. 
At night he goes to Thorkell's house, where 
Asa is alone. He knocks to be let in ; Asa 
refuses ; he draws the latch with his deft 
fingers (A, C, D). He offers Asa a silken 
sark to sleep with him [and a blue cloak to 
say nothing. A]. She asked to see the sarki 
and knew her sisters' work, begged him to 
wait a moment, went to her father, and told 
him that the murderer of his daughters was 

there. Thorkell dashed his harp to the floor 
[and kicked over the table, D, E]. The mur- 
derer in the morning was hanged like a dog, 
A, B. [Thorkell tore at his hair and cut 
him down with an elder-stock, O ; they fought 
three days, and on the fourth the villain was 
hanged in a strap, E, the knight was hang- 
ing like a dog, D] . A miraculous light burned 
over the place where the maids had been 
buried, A 16, C 27, D 24, E 12. When their 
bodies were taken into the church, the bells 
rang of themselves, D. 

Norwegian versions of this ballad have 
been obtained from tradition, but none as yet 
have been published. 

" The mains and burn of Fordie, the banks 
of which are very beautiful," says Aytoun (l, 
159), " lie about six miles to the east of Dun- 
keld." Tradition has connected the story 
with half a dozen localities in Sweden, and, 
as Professor Grundtvig informs me, with at 
least eight places in the different provinces of 
Denmark. The Kerna church of the Swedish 
ballads, not far from Linkoping (Afzelius), 
has been popularly supposed to derive its name 
from a Catharina, Karin, or Kama, killed by 
her own brother, a wood-robber, near its site. 
See Afzelius, ed.Bergstrom, II, 329 ff: Danske 
Viser, ni, 444 f . 

A is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske 
og skotske Folkeviser, No 34, p. 216, and, 
with some slight use of Aytoun, i, 160, by 
Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder der 
Vorzeit, No 18, p.* 85. Danish A, by Prior, 
in, 252. 

a. Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 88. b. The same. c. The 
same, Appendix, p. xxii. No xxvi, apparently from South 

1 There were three ladies lived in a bower, 

Eh vow bonnie 
And they went out to pull a flower. 
On the bonnie banks o Fordie 

2 They hadna pu'ed a flower but ane, 
When up started to them a banisht man. 

3 He 's taen the first sister by her hand, 

And he 's turned her round and made her 

4 ' It 's whether will ye be a rank robber's wife, 
Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife ? ' 

5 ' It 's I '11 not be a rank robber's wife, 
But I '11 rather die by your wee pen-knife.' 

6 He 's killed this may, and he 's laid her by, 
For to bear the red rose company. 



7 He 's taken the second ane by the hand, 

And he 's turned her round and made her 

8 ' It 's whether will ye be a rank robber's wife, 
Or win ye die by my wee pen-knife ? ' 

9 * I '11 not be a rank robber's wife, 

But I '11 rather die by your wee pen-knife.' 

10 He 's killed this may, and he 's laid her by, 
For to bear the red rose company. 

11 He 's taken the youngest ane by the hand. 
And he 's turned her round and made her 


12 Says, ' Will ye be a rank robber's wife. 
Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife ? ' 

13 ' I 'U not be a rank robber's wife, 
Nor will I die by your wee pen-knife. 

14 ' For I hae a brother in this wood. 
And gin ye kill me, it 's he '11 kill thee.* 

15 ' What 's thy brother's name ? come tell to 

* My brother's name is Baby Lon.' 

16 ' O sister, sister, what have I done ! 
O have I done this ill to thee ! 

17 ' O since I 've done this evil deed. 
Good sail never be seen o me.' 

18 He 's taken out his wee pen-knife. 

And he 's twyned himsel o his ain sweet life. 


a. Herd's MSS, i, 38, ii, 76. b. The Scots Magazine, 
Oct., 1 803, p. 699, communicated by Jamieson, and evidently 
from Herd's copy. 

1 There wond three ladies in a bower, 

Annet and Margret and Marjorie 
And they have gane out to pu a flower. 

And the dew it lyes on the wood, gay ladie 

2 They had nae pu'd a flower but ane, 
When up has started a banished man. 

3 He has taen the eldest by the hand. 

He has turned her about and bade her Stand. 

4 * Now whether will ye be a banisht man's wife, 
Or will ye be sticked wi my pen-knife ? ' 

5 * I will na be ca'd a banished man's wife, 
I 'U rather be sticked wi your pen-knife.' 

6 And he has taen out his little pen-knife, 
And frae this lady he has taen the life. 

7 He has taen the second by the hand. 

He has turned her about and he bad her stand. 

8 ' Now whether will ye be a banisht man's wife, 
Or will ye be sticked wi my pen-knife ? ' 

9 ' I will na be ca'd a banished man's wife ; 
I '11 rather be sticked wi your pen-knife.' 

10 And he has taen out his little pen-knife, 
And frae this lady he has taen the life. 

11 He has taen the youngest by the hand, 

He has turned her about and he bad her stand. 

12 ' Now whether will ye be a banished man's 

Or will ye be sticked wi my pen-knife ? ' 

13 ' I winnae be called a banished man's wife, 
Nor yet will I be sticked wi your pen-knife. 

14 * But gin my three brethren had been here, 
Ye had nae slain my sisters dear.' 

♦ * # * # 



Motherwell's MS., p. 172. From J. Goldie, March, 1825. 


9 ' I '11 rather consent to lose my life 
Before I '11 be a banished lord's wife.' 

1 There were three sisters on a road, 

Gilly flower gentle rosemary 
And there they met a banished lord. 

And the dew it hings over the mulberry tree 

2 The eldest sister was on the road, 

And there she met with the banished lord. 

3 * O wiU ye consent to lose your life. 
Or will ye be a banished lord's wife ? ' 

4 ' I '11 rather consent to lose my life 
Before I '11 be a banished lord's wife.' 

5 ' It 's lean your head upon my staff,' 

And with his pen-knife he has cutted it aff. 

6 He flang her in amang the broom. 

Saying, ' Lye ye there tiU another ane come.' 

7 The second sister was on the road, 

And there she met with the banished lord. 

8 * will ye consent to lose your life, 
Or wiU ye be a banished lord's wife ? ' 

10 ' It 's lean your head upon my staff,' 

And with his pen-knife he has cutted it aff. 

11 He flang her in amang the broom, 
Saying, ' Lie ye there tiU another ane come.' 

12 The youngest sister was on the road, 
And there she met with the banished lord. 

13 * O will ye consent to lose your life, 
Or will ye be a banished lord's wife ? ' 

14 ' i:f my three brothers were here, 
Ye durstna put me in such a fear.' 

15 * What are your three brothers, altho they were 

That I durstna put you in such a fear ? ' 

16 ' My eldest brother 's a belted knight, 
The second, he 's a . . . 


17 ' My youngest brother 's a banished lord, 
And oftentimes he walks on this road.' 

Motherwell's MS., p. 174. From the recitation of Agnes 
Ljle, Kilbarchan, July 27, 1825. ^ 

1 There were three sisters, they lived in a 

Sing Anna, sing Margaret, sing Marjorie 
The youngest o them was the fairest flower. 
And the dew goes thro the wood, gay ladie 

2 The oldest of them she 's to the wood gane. 
To seek a braw leaf and to bring it hame. 

3 There she met with an outlyer bold. 

Lies many long nights in the woods so cold. 

4 ' Istow a maid, or istow a wife ? 

Wiltow twinn with thy maidenhead, or thy 
sweet life ? ' 

5 ' O kind sir, if I hae 't at my will, 

I '11 twinn with my life, keep my maidenhead 

6 He 's taen out his we pen-knife. 

He 's twinned this young lady of her sweet life 

7 He wiped his knife along the dew ; 

But the more he wiped, the redder it grew. 

8 The second of them she 's to the wood gane, 
To seek her old sister, and to bring her hame. 

9 There she met with an outlyer bold. 

Lies many long nights in the woods so cold. 

10 ' Istow a maid, or istow a wife ? 

Wiltow twinn with thy maidenhead, or thy 
sweet life ? ' 

11 ' kind sir, if I hae 't at my will, 

I '11 twinn with my life, keep my maidenhead 

12 He 's taen out his we pen-knife. 

He 's twinned this young lady of her sweet life. 



13 He wiped his knife along the dew ; 

But the more he wiped, the redder it grew. 

18 ' Pray, what may thy three brethren be, 
That I durst na mak so bold with thee ? ' 

14 The youngest of them she 's to the wood gane, 19 ' The eldest o them is a minister bred, 

To seek her two sisters, and to bring them 

15 There she met with an outlyer bold. 

Lies many long nights in the woods so cold. 

16 ' Istow a maid, or istow a wife ? 

Wiltow twinn with thy maidenhead, or thy 
sweet life ? ' 

17 ' If my three brethren they were here. 

Such questions as these thou durst nae speer.' 

He teaches the people from evil to good. 

20 ' The second o them is a ploughman good, 
He ploughs the land for his livelihood. 

21 ' The youngest of them is an outlyer bold. 
Lies many a long night in the woods so 


22 He stuck his knife then into the ground, 
He took a long race, let himself fall on. 


Einloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 212. From Meams- 


1 The Duke o Perth had three daughters, 

Elizabeth, Margaret, and fair Marie ; 
And Elizabeth 's to the greenwud gane. 
To pu the rose and the fair lilie. 

2 But she hadna pu'd a rose, a rose, 

A double rose, but barely three, 
Whan up and started a Loudon lord, 
Wi Loudon hose, and Loudon sheen. 

3 * Will ye be called a robber's wife ? 

Or will ye be stickit wi my bloody knife ? 
For pu'in the rose and the fair lilie. 
For pu'in them sae fair and free.' 

4 ' Before I '11 be called a robber's wife, 

I '11 rather be stickit wi your bloody knife, 
For pu'in,' etc. 

6 Then out he 's tane his little pen-knife. 
And he 's parted her and her sweet life. 
And thrown her oer a bank o brume. 
There never more for to be found. 

6 The Duke o Perth had three daughters, 
Elizabeth, Margaret, and fair Marie ; 
And Margaret 's to the greenwud gane, 
To pu the rose and the fair lilie. 

7 She hadna pu'd a rose, a rose, 

A double rose, but barely three. 
When up and started a Loudon lord, 
Wi Loudon hose, and Loudon sheen. 

8 ' Will ye be called a robber's wife ? 

Or will ye be stickit wi my bloody knife ? 
For pu'in,' etc. 

9 ' Before I '11 be called a robber's wife, 

I '11 rather be stickit wi your bloody knife, 
For pu'in,' etc. 

10 Then out he 's tane his little pen-knife, 
And he 's parted her and her sweet life. 
For pu'in, etc. 

11 The Duke o Perth had three daughters, 

Elizabeth, Margaret, and fair Marie ; 
And Mary 's to the greenwud gane. 
To pu the rose and the fair lilie. 

12 She hadna pu'd a rose, a rose, 

A double rose, but barely three. 
When up and started a Loudon lord, 
Wi Loudon hose, and Loudon sheen. 

13 ' will ye be called a robber's wife ? 

Or will ye be stickit wi my bloody knife ? 
For pu'in,' etc. 

14 * Before I 'U be called a robber's wife, 

I '11 rather be stickit wi your bloody knife, 
For pu'in,' etc. 



15 But just as he took out his knife, 
To tak frae her her ain sweet life, 
Her brother John cam ryding bye. 
And this bloody robber he did espy. 

16 But when he saw his sister fair, 
He kennd her by her yellow hair ; 
He calld upon his pages three, 
To find this robber speedilie. 

17 ' My sisters twa that are dead and gane. 
For whom we made a heavy maene, 

It 's you that 's twinnd them o their life. 
And wi your cruel bloody knife. 

18 ' Then for their life ye sair shall dree ; 
Ye sail be hangit on a tree, 

Or thrown into the poisond lake. 
To feed the toads and rattle-snake.' 

A. a. " Given from two copies obtained from reci- 
tation, which differ but little from each other. 
Indeed, the only variation is in the verse 
where the outlawed brother unweetingly slays 
his sister." [19.] Motherwell. 

b. 19. He 's taken out his wee penknife, 

Hey how bonnie 
And he 's twined her o her ain sweet life. 
On the, etc. 

c. The first stanza only : 

There were three sisters livd in a bower. 
Fair Annet and Margaret and Marjorie 

And they went out to pu a flower. 

And the dew draps off the hyndberry tree 

B. a. " To a wild melancholy old tune not in any 


" N. B. There are a great many other verses 
which I could not recover. Upon describing 



her brothers, the banished man finds that he 
has killed his two brothers and two sisters, — 
upon which he kills himself." Herd. 
1\ MS. Quhen. 4S 42, 52, 12S 12^, 13^ 14^. 
ye, your, yet, MS. ze, zour, zet. 8, 9, 10 

are not written out. 


b. " Of this I have got only 14 stanzas, but 

there are many more. It is a horrid story. 

The banished man discovers that he has killed 

two of his brothers and his three (?) sisters, 

upon which he kiUs himself." Jamieson. 

The first two stanzas only are cited by Jamieson. 
1^. three sisters. 2^. up there started. 
7-11 and 12^ are not written out in the MS. 

" Repeat as to the second sister, mutatis mu- 
tandis." Motherwell. 

9-13 are not written out in the MS. " Same 
as 1st sister." Motherwell. 

14^. bring her. 

15, 16 are not written out. " Same as 1st and 
2d sisters, but this additional, viz*." M. 

22^ longe, or large ? 



A. ' Leesome Brand.' a. Buchan's Ballads of the North 
of Scotland, i, 38. b. Motherwell's MS., p. 626. 

B. ' The Broom blooms bonnie,' etc., Motherwell's MS., 
p. 365. 

This is one of the cases in which a remark- 
ably fine ballad has been worse preserved in 
Scotland than anywhere else. Without light 
from abroad we cannot fully understand even 
so much as we have saved, and with this light 
comes a keen regret for what we have lost. 


A, from Buchan's Ballads of the North of 
Scotland, is found also in Motherwell's MS., 
hut without doubt was derived from Buchan. 
Though injured by the commixture of foreign 
elements, A has still much of the original 
story. B has, on the contrary, so little that 



distinctively and exclusively belongs to this 
story that it might almost as well have been 
put with the following ballad, ' Sheath and 
Knife,' as here. A third ballad, ' The Birth 
of Robin Hood,' preserves as much of the 
story as A, but in an utterly incongruous and 
very modern setting, being, like ' Erlinton,' 
C, forced into an absurd Robin Hood frame- 

The mixture of four-line with two-line 
stanzas in A of course comes frord different 
ballads having been blended, but for all that, 
these ballads might have had the same theme. 
Stanzas 33—35, however, are such as we meet 
with in ballads of the ' Earl Brand ' class, but 
not in those of the class to which ' Leesome 
Brand ' belongs. In the English ballads, and 
nearly all the Danish, of the former class, 
there is at least a conversation between son 
and mother [father], whereas in the other the 
catastrophe excludes such a possibility. Again, 
the " unco land " in the first stanza, " where 
winds never blew nor cocks ever crew," is at 
least a reminiscence of the paradise depicted 
in the beginning of many of the versions of 
' Ribold and Guldborg,' and stanza 4 of ' Lee- 
some Brand ' closely resembles stanza 2 of 
* Earl Brand,' A.* Still, the first and fourth 
stanzas suit one ballad as well as the other, 
which is not true of 33-35. 

The name Leesome Brand may possibly be 
a corruption of Hildebrand, as Earl Brand 
almost certainly is ; but a more likely origin 
is the Gysellannd of one of the kindred Dan- 
ish ballads. 

The white hind, stanzas 28, 30, is met with 
in no other ballad of this class, and, besides 
this, the last four stanzas are in no kind of 
keeping with what goes before, for the " young 
son " is spoken of as having been first brought 
home at some previous period. Grundtvig has 
suggested that the hind and the blood came 
from a lost Scottish ballad resembling ' The 
Maid Transformed into a Hind,' D. g. F, No 
58. In this ballad a girl begs her brother, 
who is going hunting, to spare the little hinjd 
that " plays before his foot." The brother 

* And also stanza 3 of Buchan's ' Fairy Knight,' ' The 
Elfin Knight,' D, p. 17 of this volume, which runs: 

nevertheless shoots the hind, though not mor- 
tally, and sets to work to flay it, in which 
process he discovers his sister under the hind's 
hide. His sister tells him that she had been 
successively changed into a pair of scissors, a 
sword, a hare, a hind, by her step-mother, and 
that she was not to be free of the spell until 
she had drunk of her brother's blood. Her 
brother at once cuts his fingers, gives her some 
of his blood, and the girl is permanently re- 
stored to her natural shape, and afterwards is 
happily married! Stanzas similar to 36-41 of 
A and 12-16 of B will be found in the ballad 
which follows this, to which they are especially 
well suited by their riddling character ; and I 
believe that they belong there, and not here. 
It is worthy of remark, too, that there is a 
hind in another ballad, closely related to No 
16 (' The Bonny Hind '), and that the hind 
in ' Leesome Brand ' may, in some way not 
now explicable, have come from this. The 
confounding of ' Leesome Brand ' with a bal- 
lad of the ' Bonny Hind ' class would be par- 
alleled in Danish, for in ' Redselille og Me- 
delvold' T (and perhaps I, see Grundtvig's 
note, V, 237), the knight is the lady's brother. 

The " auld son " in B, like the first bring- 
ing home of the young son in A 45, 47, shows 
how completely the proper story has been lost 
sight of. There should be no son of any de- 
scription at the point at which this stanza 
comes in, and auld son should everywhere be 
young son. The best we can do, to make 
sense of stanza 3, is to put it after 8, with 
the understanding that woman and child are 
carried off for burial ; though really there is 
no need to move them on that account. The 
shooting of the child is unintelligible in the 
mutilated state of the ballad. It is apparently 
meant to be an accident. Nothing . of the 
kind occurs in other ballads of the class, and 
the divergence is probably a simple corrup- 
tion. , 

The ballad which ' Leesome Brand ' repre- 
sents is preserved among the Scandinavian 
races under four forms. 

Danish. I. ' Bolde Hr. Nilaus' Lon,' a 

I hae a sister eleven years auld, 

And she to the young men's hed has made bauld. 



single copy from a manuscript of the begin- 
ning of the 17th century : Grundtvig, V, 231, 
No 270. II. ' Redselille og Medelvold,' in an 
all but unexampled number of versions, of 
which some sixty are collated, and some twen- 
ty-five printed, by Grundtvig^ most of them 
recently obtained from tradition, and the old- 
est a broadside of about the year 1770 : 
Grundtvig, V, 234, No 271. III. ' Sonnens 
Sorg,' Grundtvig, V, 289, No 272, two ver- 
sions only : A from the middle of the 16th 
century ; B three hundred years later, pre- 
viously printed in Berggreen's Danske Folke- 
sange, i. No 83 (3d ed.). IV. ' Stalbroders 
Kvide,' Grundtvig, v, 301, No 273, two ver- 
sions : A from the beginning of the 17th cen- 
tury, B from about 1570. 

Swe4ish. II. A, broadside of 1776, re- 
printed in Grundtvig, No 271, V, 281, Bilag 
1, and in Jamieson's Illustrations, p. 373 ff, 
with a translation. B, ' Herr Redevall,' Af- 
zelius, II, 189, No 58, new ed. No 51. C, 
' Krist' Lilla och Herr Tideman,' Arwidsson, 
I, 352, No 54 A. D, E, F, G, from Caval- 
lius and Stephens' manuscript collection, first 
printed by Grundtvig, No 271, V, 282 ff, Bilag 
2-5. H, 'Rosa lilla,' Eva Wigstrom, Folk- 
visor hkn Skane, in Ur de nordiska Folkens 
Lif, af Artur Hazelius, p. 133, No 8. III. A 
single version, of date about 1650, *Moder 
och Son,' Arwidsson, ii, 15, No 70. 

Norwegian. II. Six versions and a frag- 
ment, from recent tradition : A-E, G, first 
printed by Grundtvig, No 271, V, 284 ff, Bilag 
6-11; P, ' Grivilja,' in Lindeman's Norske 
Fjeldmelodier, No 121. III. Six versions from 
recent tradition, A-F, first printed by Grundt- 
vig, No 272, V, 297 ff, Bilag 1-6. 

Icelandic. III. ' Sonar harmur,' Islenzk 
FornkvaeSi, I, 140 ff. No 17, three versions, 
A, B, C, the last, which is the oldest, being 
from late in the 17th century ; also the first 
stanza of a fourth, D. 

All the Scandinavian versions are in two- 
line stanzas save Danish 272 B, and A in part, 
and Icelandic 17 C, which are in four ; the 
last, however, in stanzas of two couplets. 

It will be most convenient to give first a 
summary of the story of ' Redselille og Me- 

delvold,' and to notice the chief divergences 
of the other ballads afterwards. A mother 
and her daughter are engaged in weaving 
gold tissue. The mother sees milk running 
from the girl's breasts, and asks an explana- 
tion. After a slight attempt at evasion, the 
daughter confesses that she has been beguiled 
by a knight. The mother thr^tens both with 
punishment : he shall be hanged [burned, 
broken on the wheel, sent out of the country, 
i. e., sold into sei'vitude], and she sent away 
[broiled on a gridiron, burned, drowned]. 
Some copies begin further back, with a stanza 
or two in which we are told that the knight 
has served in the king's court, and gained the 
favor of the king's daughter. Alarmed by 
her mother's threats, the maid goes to her lov- 
er's house at night, and after some difficulty in 
effecting an entrance (a commonplace, like the 
ill-boding milk above) informs him of the fate 
that awaits them. The knight is sufficiently 
prompt now, and bids her get her gold to- 
gether while he saddles his horse. They ride 
away, with [or without] precautions against 
discovery, and come to a wood. Four Nor- 
wegian versions. A, B, C, G, and also two Ice- 
landic versions. A, B, of ' Sannens Sorg,' in- 
terpose a piece of water, and a difficulty in 
crossing, owing t9 the ferryman's refusing 
help or the want of oars ; but this passage is 
clearly an infiltration from a different story. 
Arriving at the wood, the maid desires to rest 
a while. The customary interrogation does 
not fail, — whether the way is too long or the 
saddle too small. The knight lifts her off the 
horse, spreads his cloak for her on the grass, 
and she gives way to her anguish in such ex- 
clamations as " My mother had nine women : 
would that I had the worst of them ! " " My 
mother would never have been so angry with 
me but she would have helped me in this 
strait ! " Most of the Danish versions make 
the knight offer to bandage his eyes and ren- 
der such service as a man may ; but she re- 
plies that she would rather die than that man 
should know of woman's pangs. So Swedish 
H, nearly. Partly to secure privacy, and 
partly from thirst, she expresses a wish for 
water, and her lover goes in search of some. 



(This in nearly all the Danish ballads, and 
many of the others. But in four of the Nor- 
wegian versions of ' Sonnens Sorg ' the lover 
is told to go and amuse himself, much as in 
our ballads.) When he comes to the spring 
or the brook, there sits a nightingale and 
sings. Two nightingales, a small bird, a voice 
from heaven, a" small dwarf, an old man, re- 
place the nightingale in certain copies, and in 
others there is nothing at all ; but the great 
majority has a single nightingale, and, as 
Grundtvig points out, the single bird is right, 
for the bird is really a vehicle for the soul of 
the dead Redselille. The nightingale sings, 
" Redselille lies dead in the wood, with two 
sons [son and daughter] in her bosom." All 
that the nightingale has said is found to 
be true. According to Danish O and Swedish 

C, the knight finds the lady and a child, ac- 
cording to Swedish B and Norwegian A, B, C, 
the lady and two sons, dead. In Danish B, 
L (as also the Icelandic ' Sonar Harmur,' A, 
B, and Danish ' Stalbroders Kvide,' A) the 
knight digs a grave, and lays mother and chil- 
dren in it ; he lays himself with them in A 
and M. It is not said whether the children 
are dead or living, and the point would hardly 
be raised but for what follows. In Danish 

D, P and Swedish P, it is expressly mentioned 
that the children are alive, and in Q, R, S, T, 
U, six copies of V, and Y, and also in ' Bolde 
Hr. Nilaus' Lon,' and in ' Sannens Sorg,' Dan- 
ish A, Norwegian A, C, D, E, the children 
are heard, or seem to be heard, shrieking from 
under the ground. Nearly all the versions 
make the knight run himself through with 
his sword, either immediately after the others 
are laid in the grave, or after he has ridden 
far and wide, because he cannot endure the 
cries of the children from under the earth. 
This would seem to be the original conclusion 
of the story ; the horrible circumstance of the 
children being buried alive is much more 
likely to be slurred over or omitted at a later 
day than to be added. 

We may pass over in silence the less im- 
portant variations in the very numerous ver- 
sions of ' Redselille and Medelvold,' nor need 
we be detained long by the other three Scan- 

dinavian forms of the ballad. ' Sannens Sorg ' 
stands in the same relation to ' Redselille and 
Medelvold ' as ' Hildebrand and Hilde,' does 
to ' Ribold and Guldborg ' (see p. 89 of this 
volume) ; that is, the story is told in the first 
person instead of the third. A father asks his 
son why he is so sad, Norwegian A, B, C, D, 
Icelandic A, B, C, D. Five years has he sat 
at his father's board, and never uttered a merry 
word. The son relates the tragedy of his life. 
He had lived in his early youth at the house 
of a nobleman, who had three daughters. He 
jvas on very familiar terms with all of them, 
and the youngest loved him. When the time 
came for him to leave the family, she proposed 
that he should take her with him, Danish B, 
Icelandic A, B, C [he makes the proposal in 
Norwegian C J . From this point the narrative 
is much the same as in ' Redselille and Medel- 
vold,' and at the conclusion he falls dead in 
his father's arms [at the table] , Norwegian A, 
B, D^ Icelandic A. The mother takes the 
place of the father in Danish B and Swedish, 
and perhaps it is the mother who tells the 
story in English A, but the bad condition of 
the text scarcely enables us to say. Danish B 
and the Swedish copy have lost the middle and 
end of the proper story : there is no wood, no 
childbirth, no burial. The superfluous boat 
of some Norwegian versions of ' Redselille ' re- 
appears in these, and also in Icelandic A, B ; 
it is overturned in a storm, and the lady is 

' Stalbroders Kvide ' differs from ' Sannens 
Sorg ' only in this : that the story is related 
to a comrade instead of father or mother. 

' Bolde Hr. Nilaus' L0n,' which exists but 
in a single copy, has a peculiar beginning. 
Sir Nilaus has served eight years in the king's 
court without recompense. He has, however, 
gained the favor of the king's daughter, who 
tells him that she is suffering much on his ac- 
count. If this be so, says Nilaus, I will quit 
the land with speed. He is told to wait till 
she has spoken to her mother. She goes to 
her mother and says : Sir Nilaus has served 
eight years, and had no reward ; he desires 
the best that it is in your power to give. The 
queen exclaims, He shall never have my only 



daughter's hand ! The young lady immediajbely 
bids Nilaus saddle his horse while she collects 
her gold, and from this point we have the 
story of Redselille. 

Dutch. Willems, Oude vlaemsche Lieder- 
en, p. 482, No 231, ' De Ruiter en Mooi Elsje ; ' 
Hoffmann v. Fallersleben, Niederlandische 
Volkslieder, 2d ed., p. 170, No 75 : broadside 
of the date 1780. 

A mother inquires into her daughter's con- 
dition, and learns that she is going with child 
by a trooper (he is called both ' ruiter ' and 
* landsknecht '). The conversation is overheard 
by the other party, who asks the girl whether 
she will ride with him or bide with her mother. 
She chooses to go with him, and as they ride 
is overtaken with pains. She asks whether 
there is not a house where she can rest. The 
soldier builds her a hut of thistles, thorns, 
and high stakes, and hangs his cloiik over the 
aperture. She asks him to go away, and to 
come back when he hears a cry : but the maid 
was dead ere she cried. The trooper laid his 
head on a stone, and his heart brake with 

German. A, Simrock, No 40, p. 92, ' Von 
Farbe so bleich,' from Bonn and Rheindorf, 
repeated in Mittler, No 194. The mother, on 
learning her daughter's plight, imprecates a 
curse on her. The maid betakes herself to 
her lover, a trooper, who rides off with her. 
They come to a cool spring, and she begs for 
a fresh drink, but, feeling very ill, asks if there 
is no hamlet near, from which she could have 
woman's help. The aid of the trooper is re- 
jected in the usual phrase, and he is asked to 
go aside, and answer when called. If there 
should be no call, she will be dead. There 
was no call, and she was found to be dead, 
with two sons in her bosom. The trooper 
wrapped the children in her apron, and dug 
her grave with his sword. B, Reifferscheid, 
Westfalische Volkslieder, p. 106, ' Ach Wun- 
der iiber Wunder,' from Bokendorf : much the 
same as to the story. C, Mittler, No 195, p. 
175, ' Von Farbe so bleich,' a fragment of a 
copy from Hesse ; Zuccalmaglio, p. 187, No 
90, ' Die Waisen,' an entire copy, ostensibly 
from the Lower Rhine, but clearly owing its 

last fourteen stanzas to the editor. The trooper, 
in this supplement, leaves the boys with his 
mother, and goes over seas. The boys grow 
up, and set out to find their father. In the 
course of their quest, they pass a night in a 
hut in a wood, and are overheard saying a 
prayer for their father and dead mother, by a 
person who announces herself as their mater- 
nal grandmother ! After this it is not sur- 
prising that the father himself should turn up 
early the next morning. The same editor, 
under the name of Montanus, gives in Die 
deutschen Volksfeste, p. 45 f, a part of this 
ballad again, with variations which show his 
hand beyond a doubt. We are here informed 
that the ballad has above a hundred stanzas, 
and that the conclusion is that the grand- 
mother repents her curse, makes her peace 
with the boys, and builds a convent. 

French. Bujeaud, Chants et Chansons pop- 
ulaires des provinces de I'Ouest, A, 1, 198, B, i, 
200, ' J'entends le rossignolet.' A. This ballad 
has suffered injury at the beginning and the 
end, but still preserves very well the chief 
points of the story. A lover has promised his 
mistress that after returning from a long ab- 
sence he would take her to see his country. 
While traversing a wood she is seized with her 
pains. The aid of her companion is declined : 
" Cela n'est point votre metier." She begs for 
water. The lover goes for some, and meets 
a lark, who tells him that he will find his love 
dead, with a child in her arms. Two stanzas 
follow Which are to no purpose. B. The other 
copy of this ballad has a perverted instead of 
a meaningless conclusion, but this keeps some 
traits that are wanting in A. It is a two- 
line ballad, with the nightingale in the re- 
frain : " J'entends le rossignolet." A fair 
maid, walking with her lover, falls ill, and lies 
down under a thorn. The lover asks if he 
shall go for her mother. " She would not 
come : she has a cruel heart." Shall I go for 
mine ? " Go, like the swallow ! " He comes 
back and finds his love dead, and says he will 
die with his mistress. The absurd conclusion 
follows that she was feigning death to test his 

The names in the Scandinavian ballads, it 



is remarked by Grundtvig, V, 242, 291, are not 
Norse, but probably of German derivation, 
and, if such, would indicate a like origin for 
the story. The man's name, for instance, in 
the Danish ' Sonnens Sorg,' A, Gysellannd, 
seems to point to Gisalbrand or Gisalbald, 
German names of the 8th or 9th century. 
There is some doubt whether this Gysellannd 
is not due to a corruption arising in the course 
of tradition (see Grundtvig, v, 302) ; but if 
the name may stand, it will account for our 
Leesome Brand almost as satisfactorily as 
Hildebrand does for Earl Brand in No 7. 

The passage in which the lady refuses male 
assistance during her travail — found as well 
in almost all the Danish versions of ' Redselille 
and Medelvold,' in the German and French, 
and imperfectly in Swedish D — occurs in 
several other English ballads, viz., ' The Birth 
of Robin Hood,' ' Rose the Red and White 
Lily,' ' Sweet Willie,' of Finlay's Scottish Bal- 
lads, n, 61, ' Burd Helen,' of Buchan, n, 30, 
' Bonnie Annie,' No 23. Nearly the whole of 
the scene in the wood is in ' Wolfdietrich.' 
Wolfdietrich finds a dead man and a woman 
naked to the girdle, who is clasping the stem 
of a tree. The man, who was her husband, 
was taking her to her mother's house, where 

her first child was to be born, when he was at- 
tacked by the dragon Schadesam. She was now 
in the third day of her travail. Wolfdietrich, 
having first wrapped her in his cloak, offers his 
help, requesting her to tear a strip from her 
shift and bind it round his eyes. She rejects 
his assistance in this form, but sends him for 
water, which he brings in his helmet, but only 
to find the woman dead, with a lifeless child at 
her breast. He wraps mother and child in his 
mantle, carries them to a chapel, and lays them 
on the altar ; then digs a grave with his sword, 
goes for the body of the man, and buries all 
three in the grave he has made. Grimm, Alt- 
danische Heldenlieder, p. 508 ; Holtzmann, 
Der grosse Wolfdietrich, st. 1587-1611 ; Ame- 
lung u. Janicke,* Ortnit u. die Wolfdietrich e, 
II, 146, D, St. 51-75 ; with differences, i, 289, 
B, st. 842-848 ; mother and child surviving, 

I, 146, A, St. 562-578 ; Weber's abstract of 
the Heldenbuch, in Illustrations of Northern 
Antiquities, p. 119, 120. 

' Herr Medelvold,' a mixed text of Danish 

II, Danske Viser, No 156, is translated by 
Jamieson, Illustrations, p. 377 ; by Borrow, 
Romantic Ballads, p. 28 (very ill) ; and by 
Prior, No 101. Swedish, II, A, is translated 
by Jamieson, ih.^ p. 373. 

a. Bachan's Ballads of the North of Scotland^ i, 38. b 
Motherwell's MS., p. 626. 

1 Mt boy was scarcely ten years auld, 

Whan he went to an unco land, 
Where wind never blew, nor cocks ever crew, 
Ohon for my son, Leesome Brand ! 

2 Awa to that king's court he went, 

It was to serve for meat an fee ; 
Gude red gowd it was his hire, 

And lang in that king's court stayd he. 

3 He hadna been in that unco land 

But only twallmonths twa or three, 
TUl by the glancing o his ee, 
He gaind the love o a gay ladye. 

4 This ladye was scarce eleven years auld, 

When on her love she was right bauld ; 
She was scarce up to my right knee, 
When oft in bed wi men I 'm tauld. 

5 But when nine months were come and gane, 
This ladye's face turnd pale and wane. 

6 To Leesome Brand she then did say, 
' In this place I can nae mair stay. 

7 ' Ye do you to my father's stable, 

Where steeds do stand baith wight and able. 

8 ' Strike ane o them upo the back. 
The swiftest will gie his head a wap. 

* Who suggests, II, xlv, somewhat oddly, that the pas- 
sage maj have been taken from Kerelation, xii, 2 f, 13 f. 



9 ' Ye take him out upo the green, 

And get him saddled and bridled seen. 

10 ' Get ane for you, anither for me. 
And lat us ride out ower the lee. 

27 ' Ye '11 take your arrow and your bow, 
And ye will hunt the deer and roe. 

28 ' Be sure ye touch not the white hynde. 
For she is o the woman kind.' 

11 ' Ye do you to my mother's coffer. 
And out of it ye '11 take my tocher. 

12 ' Therein are sixty thousand pounds, 
Which all to me by right belongs.' 

13 He 's done him to her father's stable, 
Where steeds stood baith wicht and able. 

14 Then he strake ane upon the back. 
The swiftest gae his head a wap. 

15 He 's taen him out upo the green. 
And got him saddled and bridled seen. 

16 Ane for him, and another for her, 

To carry them baith wi might and virr. 

17 He 's done him to her mother's coffer. 
And there he 's taen his lover's tocher ; 

18 Wherein were sixty thousand pound, 
Which all to her by right belongd. 

19 When they had ridden about six mile, 
His true love then began to fail. 

20 ' O wae 's me,' said that gay ladye, 

' I fear my back will gang in three ! 

21 ' O gin I had but a gude midwife, 
Here this day to save my life, 

22 ' And ease me o my misery, 

O dear, how happy I woud be ! ' 

23 ' My love, we 're far frae ony town, 
There is nae midwife to be foun. 

29 He took sic pleasure in deer and roe, 
Till he forgot his gay ladye. 

30 Till by it came that milk-white hynde. 
And then he mind on his ladye syne. 

31 He hasted him to yon greenwood tree, 
For to relieve his gay ladye ; 

32 But found his ladye lying dead, 
Likeways her young son at her head. 

33 His mother lay ower her castle wa. 

And she beheld baith dale and down ; 
'And she beheld young Leesome Brand, 
As he came riding to the town. 

34 * Get minstrels for to play,' she said, 

' And dancers to dance in my room ; 

For here comes my son, Leesome Brand, 

And he comes merrUie to the town.' 

35 * Seek nae minstrels to play, mother. 

Nor dancers to dance in your room ; 
But tho your son comes, Leesome Brand, 
Yet he comes sorry to the town. 

36 ' I hae lost my gowden knife ; 

I rather had lost my ain sweet life ! 

37 ' And I hae lost a better thing. 
The gilded sheath that it was in.' 

38 ' Are there nae gowdsmiths here in Fife, 
Can make to you anither knife ? 

39 ' Are there nae sheath-makers in the land, 
Can make a sheath to Leesome Brand ? ' 

24 ' But if ye '11 be content wi me, 
I 'U do for you what man can dee.' 

. 25 * For no, for no, this maunna be,' 
Wi a sigh, replied this gay ladye. 

26 ' When I endure my grief and pain, 
My companie ye maun refrain. 

40 ' There are nae gowdsmiths here in Fife, 
Can make me sic a gowden knife ; 

41 ' Nor nae sheath-makers in the land, 
Can make to me a sheath again. 

42 ' There ne'er was man in Scotland born, 
Ordaind to be so much forlorn. 



43 ' I 've lost my ladye I lovd sae dear, 
Likeways the son she did me bear.' 

44 * Put in your hand at my bed head, 

There ye '11 find a gude grey horn ; 
In it three draps o' Saint Paul's ain blude, 
That hae been there sin he was born. 

45 ' Drap twa o them o your ladye. 

And ane upo your little young son ; 
Then as lively they will be 

As the first night ye brought them hame.' 

46 He put his hand at her bed liead. 

And there he found a gude grey horn, 
Wi three draps o' Saint Paul's ain blude, 
That had been there sin he was born. 

47 Then he drappd twa on his ladye. 

And ane o them on his young son. 
And now they do as lively be. 

As the first day he brought them hame. 


Motherwell's MS., p. 365. From the recitation of Agnes 
Lyle, Eilbarchan. 

1 ' There is a feast in your father's house, 

The broom blooms bonnie and so is it fair 
It becomes yoa and me to be very douce. 
And we 'U never gang up to the broom nae 

8 It was nae wonder his heart was sad 
When he shot his auld son at her head. 

9 He houkit a grave, long, large and wide, 
He buried his auld son doun by her side. 

10 It was nae wonder his heart was sair 

When he shooled the mools on her yellow 

2 ' You will go to yon hiU so hie ; 

Take your bow and your arrow wi thee.' 

3 He 's tane his lady on his back, 
And his auld son in his coat lap. 

4 ' When ye hear me give a cry. 

Ye '11 shoot your bow and let me lye. 

5 ' When ye see me lying stUl, 

Throw away your bow and come running me 

6 When he heard her gie the cry. 
He shot his bow and he let her lye. 

7 When he saw she was lying still. 

He threw away his bow and came running her 

11 * Oh,' said his father, ' son, but thou 'rt sad ! 
At our braw meeting you micht be glad.' 

12 ' Oh,' said he, ' Father, I 've lost my knife 
I loved as dear almost as my own life. 

13 ' But I have lost a far better thing, 

I lost the sheath that the knife was in.' 

14 ' Hold thy tongue, and mak nae din ; 

I '11 buy thee a sheath and a knife therein.' 

15 ' A' the ships eer sailed the sea 

Neer '11 bring such a sheath and a knife to me. 

16 ' A' the smiths that lives on land 

WiU neer bring such a sheath and knife to my 

A. b. V 



he came to. 
cock never, 
bed wi him. 
His lady's, 
would I be. 
deer and doe. 

'. For wind 

30^ And then on his lady he did mind. 

and 31^. to greenwood tree. 

33^. the castle wa. 
34^. Go, minstrels. 
43^. lady I 've loved. 
44^. draps Saint Paul's. 
45^. little wee son. 
B. 2\ Will you. 

That has. 




A. a. Motherwell's MS., p. 286. b. ' The broom blooms C. * The broom blooms bonie,' Johnson's Museum, No 
bonnie and says it is fair,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, 461. 

p. 189. 

D. Notes and Queries, First Series, v, 345, one stanza. 

B. Sharpe's Ballad Book, ed. by D. Laing, p. 159. 

The three stanzas of this ballad which are 
found in the Musical Museum (C) were fur- 
nished, it is said, by Burns. It was first 
printed in full (A b) in Motherwell's Min- 
strelsy. Motherwell retouched a verse here 
and there slightly, to regulate the metre. A a 
is here given as it stands in his manuscript. 
B consists of some scattered verses as remem- 
bered by Sir W. Scott. 

The directions in 3, 4 receive light from a 
passage in ' Robin Hood's Death and Burial : ' 

* But give me my bent bow in my hand, 
And a broad arrow 1 '11 let flee, 

And where this arrow is taken up 
There shall my grave diggd be. 

' Lay me a green sod under my head,' etc. 

Other ballads with a like theme are * The 
Bonny Hind,' further on in this volume, and 
the two which follow it. 

Translated in Grundtvig's E. og s. Folke- 
viser. No 49, p. 308 ; Wolff's Halle der Volker, 

a. Motherwell's MS., p. 286. From the recitation of Mrs 
King, Kilbarchan Parish, February 9, 1825. b. ' The broom 
blooms bonnie and says it is fair,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, 
p. 189. 

1 It is talked the warld all over, 

The brume blooms bonnie and says it is fair 
That the king's dochter gaes wi child to her 

And we '11 never gang doun to the brume 

onie mair 

2 He 's taen his sister doun to her father's deer 

Wi his yew-tree bow and arrows fast slung to 
his back. 

3 ' Now when that ye hear me gie a loud cry, 
Shoot frae thy bow an arrow and there let me lye. 


4 * And when that ye see I am lying dead, 

Then ye '11 put me in a grave, wi a turf at my 

6 Now when he heard her gie a loud cry, 

His silver arrow frae his bow he suddenly let 

Now they '11 never, etc. 

6 He has made a grave that was lang and was 

And he has buried his sister, wi her babe at 
her feet. 
And they '11 never, etc. 

7 And when he came to his father's court hall, 
There was music and minstrels and dancing 

and all. 
But they '11 never, etc. 


8 * O Willie, O Willie, what makes thee in pain ? ' 
' I have lost a sheath and knife that I 'U never 

see again.' 
For we 'U never, etc. 

9 * There is ships o your father's sailing on the sea 
That will bring as good a sheath and a knife 

unto thee.' 


10 * There is ships o my father's sailing on the 

But sic a sheath and a knife they can never 
bring to me.' 
Now we 'U never, etc. 


Sharpe's Ballad Book, ed. by D. Laing, p. 159 : Sir Walter 
Scott, from his recollection of a nursery-maid's singing. 

1 Ae lady has whispered the other, 

The broom grows bonnie, the broom grows 
Lady Margaret 's wi bairn to Sir Richard, her 
And we daur na gae doun to the broom nae 

2 ' And when ye hear me loud, loud cry, 
bend your bow, let your arrow fly. 

And I daur na, etc. 

3 ' But when ye see me lying still, 

O then you may come and greet your fill.' 
* # * # * 

4 ' It 's I hae broken my little pen-knife 
That I loed dearer than my life.' 

And I daur na, etc. 

5 * It 's no for the knife that my tears doun run. 
But it's a' for the case that my knife was kept in.' 

Johnson's Mnseum, No 461. 

1 It 's whispered in parlour, it 's whispered in ha, 
The broom blooms bonie, the broom blooms 
Lady Marget 's wi child amang our ladies a'. 
And she dare na gae down to the broom nae 

Notes and Queries, Ist Series, v, 345, communicated by 
E. F. Rimbault. 

1 Ab king's dochter said to anither, 

Broom blooms bonnie an grows sae fair 

A, b. MotherwelVs 'printed copy has these varia- 
1*. It is talked, it is talked ; a variation found 

in the MS. 
3^. O when . . . loud, loud cry. 
3^^. an arrow frae thy bow. 
4\ cauld and deadw 
6^. loud, loud cry. 

2 One lady whisperd unto another 

Lady Marget 's wi child to Sir Richard, her 


3 ' when that you hear my loud loud cry, 
Then bend your bow and let your arrows fly. 

For I dare na,' etc. 

We 'U gae ride like sister and brither. 

But we'U never gae down to the broom nae 

6^. has houkit. 

6^ babie. 

7^. came hame. 

1^. dancing mang them a' : this variation also 

in the MS. 
9S 10^. There are. 
B. " I have heard the * Broom blooms bonnie ' sung 
by our poor old nursery-maid as often as I have 



teeth in my head, but after cudgelling my 
memory I can make no more than the follow- 
ing stanzas." Scott, Sharpens Ballad Book, 
1880, p. 159. 
Scott makes Effie Deans, in The Heart of 

Mid-Lothian, vol. I, ch. 10, sing this stanza, 

probably of his own making : 

The elfin knight sat on the brae, 

The broom grows bonny, the broom grows 
And by there came lilting a lady so gay. 
And we daurna gang down to the broom 
nae mair 


A. < Hindhorn,' Motherwell's MS., p. 106. 

B. < Young Hyndhorn,' Motherwell's MS., p. 418. 

E. * Hynd Horn,' Motherwell's MS., p. 91. 

F. Lowran Castle, or the Wild Boar of Curridoo: with 
other Tales. By R. Trotter, Dumfries, 1822. 

C. a. * Young Hyn Horn,' Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 

42. b. Motherwell's MS., p. 413. G. 'HyndeHorn,' Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, 

p. 135. 

D. ' Young Hynhorn,' Cromek's Select Scotish Songs, 

II, 204. H. ' Hynd Horn,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of 

Scotland, ii, 268. 

A DEFECTIVE copy of this ballad was 
printed in Cromek's Select Scottish Songs, 
Ancient and Modern, 1810 (D). A fragment, 
comprising the first half of the story, was in- 
serted in " Lowran Castle, or the Wild Boar 
of Curridoo : with other Tales," etc., by Rob- 
ert Trotter, Dumfries, 1822 *(P). A com- 
plete copy was first given in Kinloch's Ancient 
Scottish Ballads, 1827 (G) ; another, described 
by the editor as made up from Cromek's frag- 
ment and two copies from recitation, in Moth- 
erwell's Minstrelsy, p. 36,f later in the same 
year; and a third, closely resembling Kin- 
loch's, in Buchan's Ballads of the North of 
Scotland, in 1828 (H). Three versions com- 
plete, or nearly so, and a fragment of a fourth 
are now printed for the first time, all from 
Motherwell's manuscripts (A, B, C, E). 

The stanza about the auger bore [wimble 

* This I should have missed but for the kindness of Mr 
W. Macmath. 

t Motherwell's printed copy, Minstrelsy, p. 36, is thus 
made up : stanzas 1, 2, 3, 8, 15, from Cromek (D) ; 4-7, 9, 
11, 13, 14, 16, 19, 20, 24-28, 30-37, from B ; 12, 17, 18 from 

bore], B 1, P 3, H 4, is manifestly out of 
place. It is found in ' The Whummil Bore ' 
(see further on), and may have slipped into 
' Hind Horn ' by reason of its following, in its 
proper place, a stanza beginning, " Seven lang 
years I hae served the king : " cf. P 2, H 3. 

G 17, 18, 21, 22, which are not intelligible 
in their present connection, are perhaps, as 
well as G 16, H 18-20, borrowed from some 
Robin Hood ballad, in which a change is made 
with a beggar. 

The noteworthy points in the story of Hind 
Horn are these. Hind Horn has served the 
king seven years (D, P), and has fallen in love 
with his daughter. She gives Hind Horn a 
jewelled ring : as long as the stone keeps its 
color, he may know that she is faithful ; but if 
it changes hue, he may ken she loves another 
man. The king is angry (D), and Hind Horn 

E. 23 = A 14. 10, 21, 22, 29, have not been found in his 
manuscripts. The first line of the burden is from B, the 
second from E. Motherwell alters his texts slightly, now 
and then. 



goes to sea [is sent, D] . He has been gone 
seven years, B, F [seven years and a day, B], 
when, looking on his ring, he sees that the 
stone is pale and wan, A-H. He makes for 
the land at once, and, meeting an old beggar, 
asks him for news. No news but the king's 
daughter's wedding : it has lasted nine days 
[two and forty, A], and she will not go into 
the bride-bed till she hears of Hind Horn, B. 
Hind Horn changed cloaks and other gear 
with the beggar, and when he came to the 
king's gate asked for a drink in Horn's name,* 
A, B, D. The bride herself came down, and 
gave him a drink out of her own hand. A, B, 
C, G, H. He drank out the drink and dropped 
in the ring. 

* gat ye 't by sea, or gat ye 't by Ian, 
Or gat ye 't afE a dead man's han ? ' 

So she asked ; and he answered : 

' I gat na 't by sea, I gat na 't by Ian, 
But I gat it out of your own han.' D 14. 

* I got na 't by sea, I got na 't by land, 
Nor got I it aff a drownd man's hand ; 

' But I got it at my wooing, 

And I 'n gie it at your wedding.' G 29, 30. 

The bride, who had said, 

' I '11 go through nine fires so hot, 
But I '11 give him a drink for Young Hyn- 
hom's sake,' B 16, 

is no less ready now : 

* I '11 tak the red gowd frae my head, 
And follow you and beg my bread. 

' I 'U tak the red gowd frae my hair. 
And follow you for evermair.' H 31, 32. 

But Hind Horn let his cloutie cloak fall, G, 
H, and told her, 

* Ye need na leave your bridal gown, 
For I '11 make ye ladie o many a town.' 

The story of Horn, of which this ballad gives 
little more than the catastrophe, is related at 
full in 

I. ' King Horn,' a gest in about 1550 short 
verses, preserved in three manuscripts : the 
oldest regarded as of the second half of the 
13th century, or older ; the others put at 
1300 and a little later. All three have been 
printed : (1.) By Michel, Horn ,et Rimenhild, 
p. 259 ff, Bannatyne Club, 1845 ; J. R. Lum- 
by, Early English Text Society, 1866 ; and in 
editions founded on Lumby's text, by Matz- 
ner, Altenglische Sprachproben, p. 270 ff, 
and later by Wissmann, Quellen u. Forsch- 
ungen, No 45. (2.) By Horstmann, Archiv 
fiir das Studium der neueren Sprachen, 1872, 
L, 39 ff. (3.) By Ritson, A. E. Metrical Ro- 
mancees, II, 91 ff. 

n. 'Horn et Rymenhild,' a romance in 
about 5250 heroic verses, preserved likewise 
in three manuscripts ; the best in the Public 
Library of the University of Cambridge, and 
of the 14th century. 

III. ' Horn Childe and Maiden Rimnild,' 
from a manuscript of the 14th century, in not 
quite 100 twelve-line stanzas : Ritson, Metrical 
Romancees, ni, 282 ff ; Michel, p. 341 ff. 

Horn, in the old English gest, is son of 
Murry [AUof], king of Suddenne. He is a 
youth of extraordinary beauty, and has twelve 
comrades, of whom Athulf and Fikenild are 
his favorites. One day, as Murry was out rid- 
ing, he came upon fifteen ships of Saracens, 
just arrived. The pagans slew the king, and 
insured themselves, as they thought, against 
Horn's future revenge by putting him and his 
twelve aboard a vessel without sail or rudder ; 
but " the children " drove to shore, unhurt, on 
the coast of Westerness. The king, Ailmar, 
gave them a kind reception, and committed 
them to Athelbrus, his steward, to be properly 
brought up. Rymenhild, the king's daughter. 

• C 16, 17 are corrupted, and also F 19, 23, G 21 ; all three 
in a way which allows of easy emendation. Hymen [high, 
man] in C should of course be Hyn Horn. The injunction 

in G, H should be to ask nothing for Peter or Paul's sake, 
but all for Horn's. 



fell in love with Horn, and having, with some 
difficulty, prevailed upon Athelbrus to bring 
him to her bower, offered herself to him as 
his wife. It were no fair wedding, Horn told 
her, between a thrall and a king, — a speech 
which hurt Rymenhild greatly ; and Horn was 
so moved by her grief that he promised to do 
all she required, if she would induce the king 
to knight him. This was done the next day, 
and Horn at once knighted all his comrades. 
Rymenhild again sent for Horn, and urged 
him now to make her his wife. But Horn 
said he must first prove his knighthood : if he 
came back alive, he would then marry her. 
Upon this Rymenhild gave him a ring, set 
with stones of such virtue that he could never 
be slain if he looked on it and thought of his 
leman. The young knight had the good for- 
tune to fall in immediately with a ship full 
of heathen hounds, and by the aid of his ring 
killed a hundred of the best of them. The 
next day he paid Rymenhild a visit, and found 
her drowned in grief on account of a bad 
dream. She had cast her net in the sea, and 
a great fish had broken it : she weened she 
should lose the fish that she would choose. 
Horn strove to comfort her, but could not con- 
ceal his apprehension that trouble was brew- 
ing. The fish proved to be Fikenild, Horn's 
much cherished friend. He told Ailmar of 
the intimacy with Rymenhild, and asserted 
that Horn meant to kill the king as well as 
marry the princess. Ailmar was very angry 
(v. 724, Wissmann), and much grieved, too. 
He found the youth in his daughter's bower, 
and ordered him to quit the land anon. Horn 
saddled his horse and armed himself, then 
went back to Rymenhild, and told her that he 
was going to a strange land for seven years : 
if, after that, he neither came nor sent word, 
she might take a husband. He sailed a good 
way eastward (v. 799) to Ireland, and, land- 
ing, met two princes, who invited him to take 
service with their father. The king, Thurs- 
ton, welcomed him, and had soon occasion to 
employ him ; for at Christmas came into court 
a giant, with a message from pagans newly 
arrived. They proposed that one of them 
should fight three Christians : 

* If your three slay our one, 
Let all this land be your own ; 
If our one oercomes your three, 
All this land then ours shall be.' 

Horn scorned to fight on such terms; he 
alone would undertake three of the hounds ; 
and so he did. In the course of a hard fight 
it came out that -these were the very heathen 
that had slain King Murry. Horn looked on 
his ring and thought on Rymenhild, then fell 
on his foes. Not a man of them escaped ; but 
King Thurston lost many men in' the fight, 
among them his two sons. Having now no 
heir, he offered Horn his daughter Reynild 
and the succession. Horn replied that he had 
not earned such a reward yet. He would 
serve the king further ; and when he asked 
for his daughter, he hoped the king would not 
refuse her. 

Seven years Horn stayed with King Thurs- 
ton, and to Rymenhild neither sent nor went. 
A sorry time it was for her, and worst at the 
end, for King Modi of Reynis asked her in 
marriage, and her father consented. The wed- 
ding was to be in a few days. Rymenhild 
despatched messengers to every land, but Horn 
heard nothing, till one day, when he was going 
out to shoot, he encountered one of these, and 
learned how things stood. He sent word to 
his love not to be troubled ; he would be there 
betimes. But, alas, the messenger was drowned 
on his way back, and Rymenhild, peering out 
of her door for a ray of hope, saw his body 
washed up by the waves. Horn now made a 
clean breast to Thurston, and asked for help. 
This was generously accorded, and Horn set 
sail for Westerness. He arrived not too early 
on the day of the wedding, — " ne might he 
come no later ! " — left his men in a wood, 
and set off for Ailmar's court alone. He met 
a palmer, and asked his news. The palmer 
had come from a bridal ; a wedding of maid 
Rymenhild, who wept and would not be mar- 
ried, because she had a husband, though he 
was out of the land. Horn changed clothes 
with the palmer, put on the sclavin, took scrip 
and staff, blackened his skin and twisted his 
lip, and presented himself at the king's gate. 
The porter would not let him in ; Horn kicked 



open the wicket, threw the porter over the 
bridge, made his way into the hall, and sat 
down in the beggars' row. Rymenhild was 
weeping as if she were out of her wits, but 
after meat she rose to give all the knights 
and squires drink from a horn which she bare : 
such was the custom. Horn called to her : 

' Skink us with the first, 
The beggars ben athirst.' 

She laid down her horn and filled him a gallon 
bowl ; but Horn would not drink of that. He 
said, mysteriously, " Thou thinkest I 'am a 
beggar, but I am a fisher, come far from the 
East, to fish at thy feast. My net lies near at 
hand, and hath full seven year. I am come 
to see if it has taken any fish. 

' I am come to fish ; 
Drink to me from thy dish, 
Drink to Horn from horn ! ' " 

Rymenhild looked at him, a chill creeping 
over her heart. What he meant by his fish- 
ing she did not see. She filled her horn and 
drank to him, handed it to the pilgrim, and 
said, " Drink thy fill, and tell me if ever thou 
saw Horn." Horn drank, and threw the ring 
into the vessel. When the princess went to 
bower, she found the ring she had given Horn. 
She feared he was dead, and sent for the 
palmer. The palmer* said Horn had died on 
the voyage to Westerness, and had begged 
him to go with the ring to Rymenhild. Ry- 
menhild could bear no more. She threw her- 
self on her bed, where she had hid a knife, 
to kill both King Modi and herself if Horn 
should not come ; she set the knife to her 
heart, and there Horn stopped her. He wiped 
off the black, and cried, " I am Horn ! " Great 
was their bliss, but it was not a time to in- 
dulge themselves fully. 

Horn sprang out of hall, 

And let his sclavin fall, (1246) 

and went to summon his knights. Rymen- 
hild sent after him the faithful Athulf, who 
all the while had been watching for Horn in 

the tower. They slew all that were in the 
castle, except King Ailmar and Horn's old 
comrades. Horn spared even Fikenild, taking 
an oath of fidelity from him and the rest. 
Then he made himself known to Ailmar, de- 
nied what he had been charged with, and 
would not marry Rymenhild even now, not 
till he had won back Suddenne. This he 
went immediately about ; but while he was 
engaged in clearing the land of Saracens and 
rebuilding churches, the false Fikenild bribed 
young and old to side with him, built a strong 
castle, " married " Rymenhild, carried her into 
his fortress, and began a feast. Horn, warned 
in a dream, again set sail for Westerness, and 
came in by Fikenild's new castle. Athulf's 
cousin was on the shore, to tell him what had 
happened ; how Fikenild had wedded Rymen- 
hild that very day ; he had beguiled Horn 
twice. Force would not avail now. Horn 
disguised himself and some of his knights as 
harpers and fiddlers, and their music gained 
them admittance. Horn began a lay which 
threw Rymenhild into a swoon. This smote 
him to the heart ; he looked on his ring and 
thought of her. Fikenhild and his men were 
soon disposed of. Horn was in a condition to 
reward all his faithful adherents. He mar- 
ried Athulf to Thurston's daughter, and made 
Rymenhild queen of Suddenne. 

The French romance contains very nearly 
the same story, extended, by expansions of 
various sorts, to about six times the length of 
King Horn. It would be out of place to no- 
tice other variations than those which relate 
to the story preserved in the ballads. Rimild 
offers Horn a ring when she first avows her 
love. He will not take it then, but accepts a 
second tender, after his first fight. When he 
is accused to the king, he offers to clear him- 
self by combat with heavy odds, but will not 
submit, king's son as he is, to purgation by 
oath. The king says, then he may quit the 
land and go — to Norway, if he \\ill. Horn 
begs Rimild to maintain her love for him 
seven years. If he does not come then, he 
will send her word to act thereafter at her 
pleasure. Rimild exchanges the ring she had 
previously given him for one set with a sap- 



phire, wearing which faithfully he need not 
fear death by water nor fire, battle nor tour- 
ney (vv 2051-8). He looks at this ring when 
he fights with the pagan that had killed his 
father, and it fires his heart to extraordinary 
exploits (3166 ff). Having learned through 
a friend, who had long been seeking him, that 
Rimild's father is about to marry her to a 
young king (Modun), Horn returns to Brit- 
tany with a large force. He leaves his men 
in a woody place, and goes out alone on horse- 
back for news ; meets a palmer, who tells him 
that the marriage is to take place that very 
day ; gives the palmer his fine clothes in ex- 
change for sclavin, staff and scrip, forces his 
way into the city, and is admitted to the ban- 
quet hall with the beggars. After the guests 
had eaten (4152 ff), Rimild filled a splendid 
cup with piment, presented it first a sun dru^ 
and then, with her maids, served the whole 
company. As she was making her fifth round, 
Horn pulled her by the sleeve, and reproached 
her with attending only to the rich. " Your 
credit would be greater should you serve W8." 
She set a handsome cup before him, but he 
would not drink. " Corn apelent Horn li 
Engleis," he said. " If, for the love of him 
who bore that name, you would give me the 
same horn that you offered your awi, I would 
share it with you." All but fainting, Rimild 
gave him the horn. He threw in his ring, 
even that which she had given him at part- 
ing, drank out half, and begged her to drink 

by the love of him whom he had named. In 
drinking, she sipped the ring into her mouth, 
and she saw at once what it was (4234). " I 
have found a ring," said she. " If it is yours, 
take it. Blest be he to whom I gave it : if 
you know aught of him, conceal it not. If you 
are Horn, it were a great sin not to reveal 
yourself." Horn owned that the ring was his, 
but denied knowledge of the man she spake 
of. For himself, he had been reared in that 
land, and by service had come into possession 
of a hawk, which, before taming it, he had 
put in a cage : that was nigh seven years since : 
he had come now to see what it amounted to. 
If it should prove to be as good as when he 
left it, he would carry it away with him ; but if 
its feathers were ruffled and broken, he would 
have nothing to do with it. At this, Rimild 
broke into a laugh, and cried, " Horn, 't is 
you, and your hawk has been safely kept ! " * 
She would go with him or kill herself. Horn 
saw that she had spoken truth, but, to try 
her yet further, said he was indeed Horn, 
whom she had loved, but he had come back 
with nothing :• why should she follow a poor 
wretch who could not give her a gown to her 
back ? " Little do you know me," was her 
reply. " I can bear what you bear, and there 
is no king in the East for whom I would quit 

' Horn Childe and Maiden Rimnild,' with 
many diversities of its own as to details, is 
more like the French than the English ro- 

* When Horn was near the city, he stopped to see how 
things would go. King Modun passed, with Wikel, in gay 
discourse of the charms of Rimild. Horn called out to them 
insultingly, and Modun asked who he was. Horn said he 
had formerly served a man of consequence as his fisherman : 
he had thrown a net almost seven years ago, and had now 
come to give it a look. If it had taken any fish, he would 
love it no more; if it should still be as he left it, he would 
carry it away. Modun thinks him a fool. (3984-4057, 
and nearly the same in 'Horn Childe and Maiden Ri- 
mild,' 77-79). This is part of a story in the Gesta Roma- 
norum, of a soldier who loved the emperor's daughter, and 
went to the holy land for seven years, after a mutual ex- 
change of fidelity for that time. A king comes to woo the 
princess, but is put off for seven years, upon her alleging 
that she has made a vow of virginity for so long. At the 
expiration of this term, the king and the soldier meet as 
they are on the way to the princess. The king, from cer- 
tain passages between them, thinks the soldier a fool. The 

soldier takes leave of the king under pretence of looking 
after a net which he had laid in a certain place seven years 
before, rides on ahead, and slips away with the princess. 
Gest. Rom., Oesterley, p. 597, No 193; Grasse, ii, 159; 
Madden, p. 32 ; Swan, i, p. Ixv. A similar story in Camp- 
bell's Tales of the West Highlands, i, 281, ' Baillie Lun- 
nain.' ( Simrock, Deutsche Marchen, No 47, is apparently a 
translation from the Gesta. )^ The riddle of the hawk, slightly 
varied, is met with in the romance of Blonde of Oxford 
and Jehan of Dammartin, v. 2811 ff, 3143 ff, 3288 ff (ed. Le 
Roux de Lincy, pp. 98, 109, 114), and, still further modified, 
in Le Romant de Jehan de Paris, ed. Montaiglon, pp. 55, 
63, 111. (Le Roux de Lincy, Kohler, Mussafia, G. Paris). 
' Horn et Rimenhild,' it will be observed, has both riddles, 
and that of the net is introduced under circumstances en- 
tirely like those in the Gesta Romanorum. The French 
romance is certainly independent of the English in this pas- 



mance as to the story, and, on the other hand, 
has one or two resemblances to the ballads 
which they both lack. Rimnild's father, mad- 
dened by the traitor Wikel's false information, 
beats her till she bleeds, and threatens to slay 
Horn. Rimnild, expecting her lover to be at 
least exiled, assures Horn that she will marry 
no other man for seven years. The king, 
who had shut himself up till his first wrath 
was past, tells Horn, when he next comes into 
his presence, that if he is found in the land 
on the morrow, he shall be drawn with horses 
and hanged. Rimnild, at parting, gives him 
a ring, with these words : 

' Loke thou forsake it for no thing, 
It schal ben our tokening ; 

The ston it is wele trewe. 
When the ston wexeth wan, 
Than chaungeth the thou^t of thi leman, 

Take than a newe ; 
When the ston wexeth rede, 
Than have Y lorn mi maidenhed, 

O^aines the untrewe.' (Michel, st. 48.) 

Horn, for his part, bids her every day look 
into a spring in her arbor : should she see his 
shadow, then he is about to marry another ; 
till then his thought will not have changed 
(sts 48, 49). Though loved, as before, by an- 
other princess, Horn kept his faith; but when 
seven years were gone, on looking at the stone 
he saw that its hue was changed (st. 71). 
He immediately gathered a force, and set sail 
for Rimnild. On landing he saw a beggar, 
who turned out to be one of his old friends, 
and had been looking for him a long time. 
That day Moging the king was to marry Rim- 
nild. They changed weeds (76) ; Horn forced 
his way into the castle. While Rimnild was 
serving the guests, Horn, who had tried to 
pass for a fool, called to her to attend to 
God's men. She fetched him drink, and he 
said, " For Horn's love, if ever he was dear 
to thee, go not ere this be drunk." He threw 
the ring into the cup : she brought him an- 
other drink (something is wrong here, for noth- 
ing is said of her seeing and recognizing the 
ring), and asked if Horn were there. She 
fainted when she learned that he was, but on 

recovering sent Hatherof (= Athulf) to bid 
the king make merry, and then to gather per- 
iwinkle and iv5% " grasses that ben of main " 
(to stain her face with, no doubt), and then 
to tell Horn to wait for her under a wood- 

* When al this folk is gon to play. 
He and Y schal steal oway, 
Bituene the day and the nijt.' (87) 

Hatherof did his message. Of true love Horn 
was sure. He said he would come into the 
field with a hundred knights. A tournament 
follows, as in the French romance ; the royal 
bridegroom is unhorsed, but spared ; treachery 
is punished and forced to confession. 

Now is Rimnild tuiis wedde, 

Horn broujt hir to his bedde. (94) 

That the lay or gest of King Horn is a far 
more primitive poem than the French ro- 
mance, and could not possibly be derived from 
it, will probably be plain to any one who will 
make even a hasty comparison of the two ; and 
that the contrary opinion should have been 
held by such men as Warton and Tyrwhitt 
must have been the result of a general theory, 
not of a particular examination.* There is, 
on the other hand, no sufficient reason for sup- 
posing that the English lay is the source of 
the other two poems. Nor do the special ap- I 
proximations of the ballads to the romance of I 
Horn Child oblige us to conclude that these, ' ^ 
or any of them, are derived from that poem. , 
The particular resemblances are the discolora- 
tion of the ring, the elopement with the bride, 
in C, G, H (which is only prepared for, but 
not carried out, in Horn Child), and the 
agreement between the couplet just cited from 
Horn Child, 

Now is Rimnild tuiis wedde, 
Horn broujt hir to his bedde, 

and the last stanza of A, B, C : 

The bridegroom he had wedded the bride, 

But Young Hind Horn he took her to bed. (A) 

* See the excellent studies of King Horn by Wissmann, 
in Quellen und Forschungen, No 16, and Anglia, iv, 342 £E. 




The bridegroom thought he had the bonnie bride 

But Young Hyn Horn took the bride to bed. (B) 

Her ain bridegroom had her first wed, 

But Young Hyn Horn had her first to bed. (C) 

The likeness evinces a closer affinity of the 
oral traditions with the later English romance 
than with the earlier English or the French, 
but no filiation. And were filiation to be ac- 
cepted, there would remain the question of 
priority. It is often assumed, without a mis- 
giving, that oral tradition must needs be 
younger than anything that was committed 
to writing some centuries ago ; but this re- 
quires in each case to be made out ; there is 
certainly no antecedent probability of that 

Two Scandinavian ballads, as Dr Prior has 
remarked, seem to have been at least suggested 
by the romances of Horn. 

(1.) ' Unge Hr. Tor og Jomfru Tore,' 
Grundtvig, No 72, ii, 263, translated by Prior, 
m, 151. Of this there are two traditional 
versions : A from a manuscript of the six- 
teenth century, B from one of the seventeenth. 
They agree in story. In A, Tor asks S0I- 
ffuermord how long she will wait for him. 
Nine years, she answers, if she can do so with- 
out angering her friends. He will be satisfied 
with eight. Eight have passed : a family coun- 
cil is held, and it is decided that she shall 
not have Young Tor, but a certain rich count. 
Her father " gives her away " that same day. 
The lady goes up to a balcony and looks sea- 
ward. Everybody seems to be coming home 
but her lover. She begs her brother to ride 
down to the shore for her. Tor is just coming 
in, hails the horseman, and eagerly asks how 
are the maids in the isle. The brother tells 
him that his maid has waited eight years, and 
is even now drinking her bridal, but with 
tears. Tor takes his harp and chess-board, and 

plays outside the bridal hall till the bride 
hears and knows him. He then enters the 
hall, and asks if there is anybody that can 
win a game of chess. The father replies. No- 
body but Solffuermord, and she sits a bride at 
the board. The mother indulgently suggests 
that the midsummer day is long, and the bride 
might well try a game. The bride seeks an 
express sanction of her father, who lessons 
her the livelong day, being suspicious of Tor, 
but towards evening consents to her playing 
a little while, — not long. Tor wins the first 
game, and must needs unpack his heart in a 
gibing parable, ending 

' Full hard is gold to win, 
And so is a trothless quean,' 

She wins the next game, takes up the parable, 
and says 

' Many were glad their faith to hold, 
Were their lot to be controlled.' 

They are soon at one, and resolve to fly. They 
slip away, go aboard Tor's ship, and put off. 
The bride's parents get information, and the 
mother, who is a professor of the black art, 
raises a storm which she means shall sink 
them both. No one can steer the ship but 
the bride. She stands at the helm, with her 
gold crown on, while her lover is lying seasick 
on the deck, and ^he brings the craft safe 
into Norway, where a second wedding is cele- 

(2.) The other ballad is ' Herr Lovmand 
og Herr Thor,' Syv, iv. No 68, Danske Viser, 
IV, 180, No 199, translated by Prior, n, 442. 
Lovmand, having betrothed Ingelil, asks how 
long she will be his maid. " Eight years, if I 
may," she says. This term has elapsed ; her 
brothers consult, and give her to rich Herr 
Thor. They drink the bridal for five days ; 
for nine days ; she will not go to bed. On 
the evening of the tenth they begin to use 

* A, B, and E, which had not been printed at the time of her will, as in the romances. This contingency seems not to 

his writing, will convince Professor Stimming, whose valua- 
ble review in Englische Studien, i, 351 ff, supplements, and in 
the matter of derivation, I think, rectifies, Wissmann's Un- 
tersuchungen, that the king's daughter in the ballads was 
faithful to Horn, and that they were marrying her against 

have been foreseen when the ring was given : but it must 
be admitted that it was better for the ring to change, to the 
temporary clouding of the lady's character, than to have 
Horn stay away and the forced marriage go on. 



force. She begs that she may first go to 
the look-out up-stairs. From there she sees 
ships, great and small, and the sails which her 
own hands have made for her lover. Her 
brother goes down to the sea, as in the other 
ballad, and has a similar interview. Lovmand 
has the excuse of having been sick seven years. 
He borrows the brother's horse, flies faster 
than a bird, and the torch is burning at the 
door of the bride's house when he arrives. 
Thor is reasonable enough to give up the bride, 
and to accept Lovmand's sister. 

The ballad is extremely common in Sweden, 
and at least six versions have been published. 
-A, ' Herr Lagman och Herr Thor,' from a 
manuscript of the end of the sixteenth cen- 
tury, Arwidsson, I, 165, No 24; B, from a 
manuscript, ib., p. 168 ; C, from oral tra- 
dition, p. 171 ; D, ' Lageman och bans Brud,' 
Eva Wigstrom, Folkdiktning samlad och 
upptecknad i Sk&ne, p. 29, No 12 ; B, ' Stolt 
Ingrid,' Folkvisor irhn SkS,ne, upptecknade 
af E. Wigstrom, in Hazelius, Ur de nordiska 
Folkens Lif, p. 121, No 3 ; F, ' Deielill och 
Lageman,' Fagerlund, Anteckningar om Korpo 
och Houtskars Socknar, p. 192, No 3. In A, 
D the bride goes off in her lover's ship ; in 
C he carries her off on his horse, when the 
dancing is at its best, and subsequently, upon 
the king's requisition, settles matters with his 
rival by killing him in single fight. The stolid 
bridegroom, in the others, consents to a peace- 
able arrangement. 

Certain points in the story of Horn — the 
long absence, the sudden return, the appear- 
ance under disguise at the wedding feast, and 
the dropping of the ring into a cup of wine 
obtained from the bride — repeat themselves 
in a great number of romantic tales. More 
commonly it is a husband who leaves his wife 
for seven years, is miraculously informed on 
the last day that she is to be remarried on 
the morrow, and is restored to his home in 

the nick of time, also by superhuman means. 
Horn is warned to go back, in the ballads and 
in Horn Child, by the discoloration of his ring, 
but gets home as he can ; this part of the 
story is slurred over in a way that indicates 
a purpose to avoid a supernatural expedient. 

Very prominent among the stories referred 
to is that of Henry of Brunswick [Henry the 
Lion, Reinfrid of Brunswick], and this may 
well be put first, because it is preserved in 
Scandinavian popular ballads.* 

(1.) The latest of these, a Swedish bal- 
lad, from a collection made at the end of the 
last century, ' Hertig Henrik,' Arwidsson, No 
168, n, 422, represents Duke Henry as telling 
his wife that he is minded to go off for seven 
years (he says not whither, but it is of course 
to the East) ; should he stay eight or nine, she 
may marry the man she fancies. He cuts a 
ring in two ; gives her one half and keeps the 
other. He is made captive, and serves a 
heathen lord and lady seven years, drawing 
half the plough, " like another horse." His 
liberation is not accounted for, but he was 
probably set free by his mistress, as in the 
ballad which follows. He gets possession of an 
excellent sword, and uses it on an elephant 
who is fighting with a lion. The grateful lion 
transports the duke to his own country while 
he is asleep, A herdsman, of whom he asks 
food, recommends him to go to the Brunswick 
mansion, where there is a wedding, and Duke 
Henry's former spouse is the bride. When 
Henry comes to the house, his daughter is 
standing without ; he asks food for a poor pil- 
grim. She replies that she has never heard 
of a pilgrim taking a lion about with him. 
But they give him drink, and the bride, pro 
more^ drinks out of the same bowl, and finds 
the half ring in the bottom. The bride feels in 
her pocket and finds her half,! and the two, 
when thrown upon a table, run together and 
make one ring. 

* See the ample introduction to ' Henrik af Brunsvig,* in 
Gmndtvig, No 1 14, ii, 608 ff. 

t It appears that these half rings are often dug up. 
"Neuere Ansgrabnngen baben vielfach anf solche Ring- 
stiicke gef tihrt, die, als Zeichen unverbrticblicber Trene, einst 

mit dem Geliebten gebrochen, ja wie der Angenschein be- 
weist, entzwei geschnitten, und so ins Grab mitgenommen 
wurden, zum Zeichen dass die Liebe iiber den Tod hinaus 
daure." Bochbolz, Schweizersagen aus dem Aargau, ii, 



(2.) The Danish ballad* (Grundtvig, No 
^114, B, from a 17th century manuscript), re- 
lates that Duke Henry, in consequence of a 
dream, took leave of his wife, enjoining her to 
wait to the eighth year, and, if then he did 
not return, marry whom she liked. In the 
course of his fights with the heathen, Henry 
was made captive, and had to draw the harrow 
and plough, like a beast. One day (during 
bis lord's absence, as we learn from A) the 
heathen lady whom he served set him free. 
He had many adventures, and in one of them 
killed a panther who was pressing a lion hard, 
for which service the lion followed him like a 
dog. The duke then happened upon a her- 
mit, who told him that his wife was to be mar- 
ried the next day, but he was to go to sleep, 
and not be concerned. He laid his head on a 
stone in the heathen land, and woke in a trice 
to hear German speech from a herdsman's 
mouth. The herdsman confirmed what the 
hermit had said : the duchess was to be mar- 
ried on the morrow. The duke went to the 
kitchen as a pilgrim, and sent word to the 
lady that he wished to drink to her. The 
duchess, surprised at this freedom, summoned 
him into her presence. The verses are lost in 
which the cup should be given the pilgrim 
and returned to the lady. When she drank 
ofE the wine that was left, a haK ring lay in 
the glass. 

Danish A, though of the 16th century, does 
not mention the ring. 
1 (3.) A Flemish broadside, which may orig- 
j inally have been of the 15th century, relates 
the adventures of the Duke of Brunswick in 
sixty-five stanzas of four long lines : reprinted 
in von der Hagen's Germania, vili, 359, and 
Hoffmann's Niederlandische Volkslieder, No 
2, p. 6 ; Coussemaker, No 47, p. 152 ; abridged 
and made over, in Willems, O. v. L., p. 251, 
No 107. The duke, going to war, tells his 
wife to marry again if he stays away seven 
years. She gives him half of her ring. Seven 
years pass, and the duke, being then in des- 
perate plight in a wilderness, is taken off by 
a ship ; by providential direction, no doubt, 

* Translated, with introduction of verses from A, by 
Prior, Ancient Danish Ballads, ii, 71. 

though at first it does not so appear. For the 
fiend is aboard, who tells him that his wife is 
to be married to-morrow, and offers, for his 
soul, to carry him to his palace in his sleep 
before day. The duke, relying on heaven and 
his lion, professes to accept the terms ; he is 
to be taken to his palace in his sleep. The 
lion rouses his master at the right time, and 
the fiend is baffled. The duke goes to the 
marriage feast, and sends a message to the 
bride that he desires a drink from her in 
memory of her lord. They take him for a 
beggar, but the lady orders him wine in a gold 
cup. The cup goes back to her with the 
duke's half ring in it. She cries, " It is my 
husband ! " joins her half to the one in the 
cup, and the two adhere firmly. 

(4.) A German poem of the 15th century, 
by Michel Wyssenhere, in ninety-eight stanzas 
of seven lines, first printed by Massmann, 
Denkmaeler deutscher Sprache und Literatur, 
p. 122, and afterwards by Erlach, II, 290, and 
elsewhere. The Lord of Brunswick receives 
an impression in a dream that he ought to go 
to the Holy Sepulchre. He cuts a ring in 
two, and gives his wife one half for a souvenir, 
but fixes no time for his absence, and so nat- 
urally says nothing about her taking another 
husband. He has the adventures which are 
usual in other versions of the story, and at 
last finds himself among the Wild Hunt (das 
woden her), and obliges one of the company, 
by conjurations, to tell him how it is with his 
wife and children. The spirit informs him 
that his wife is about to marry another man. 
He then constrains the spirit to transport him 
and his lion to his castle. This is done on the 
same terms as in the Flemish poem, and the 
lion wakes his master. His wife offers him 
drink ; be lets his half ring drop in the glass, 
and, upon the glass being returned to the lady, 
she takes out the token, finds it like her half, 
and cries out that she has recovered her dear 
husband and lord. 

(5.) Henry the Lion, a chap-book printed 
in the 16th century, in one hundred and four 
stanzas of eight short verses; reprinted in 
Biisching's Volkssagen, Marchen und Le- 
genden, p. 213 ff, and (modernized) by Sim- 



rock in the first volume of Die deutschen 
Volksbiicher. The hero goes out simply in 
quest of adventures, and, having lost his ship 
and all his companions, is floating on a raft 
with his lion, when the devil comes to him 
and tells him that his wife is to remarry. A 
compact is made, and the devil balked, as be- 
fore. Though we were not so informed at the 
beginning, it now turns out that the duke had 
given a half ring to the duchess seven years 
before, and had bidden her take a second hus- 
band if he did not come back in that time. 
The duke sends a servant to beg a drink of 
wine of his wife, and returns the cup, as in 
(3), (4). 
' (6.) A ballad in nine seven-line stanzas, 
supposed to be by a Meistersinger, preserved 
in broadsides of about 1550 and 1603, Bohrae, 
No 5, p. 30, Erk's Wunderhorn, IV, 111. (7.) 

^ Hans Sachs's ' Historia,' 1562, in two hundred 
and four verses. Works,. ed. 1578, Buch iv, 
Theil ii, Blatt lviiMviii^* (8.) A Meister- 

^ singerlied of the end of the 16th century, in 
three twenty-line stanzas, printed in Idunna 
u. Hermode for March 27, 1813 (appended 
to p. 64), and after this, with changes, in 
Kretzschmer, II, 17, No 5. — These three agree 
with the foregoing as to the ring. 
V (9.) Reinfrid von Braunschweig, c. 1300, ed. 

Bartsch, 1871. Reinfrid is promised by the 
Virgin, who appears to him thrice in vision, 
that he shall have issue if he will go over sea 
to fight the heathen. He breaks a ring which 
his wife had given him, and gives her one half, 
vv. 14,906-11. If he dies, she is to marry, 
for public reasons, vv. 14,398-407 ; but she is 
not to believe a report of his death unless she 
receives his half of the ring back, vv. 14,782- 
816, 15,040-049. The latter part of the ro- 
mance not being extant, we do not know the 
conclusion, but a variation as to the use made 
of the ring is probable, f 

The story of Reinfrit is also preserved in 

a Bohemian prose chap-book printed before 
1565. This prose is clearly a poem broken 
up, and it is believed that the original should 
be placed in the first half of the 14th century, 
or possibly at the end of the 13th. The hero 
returns, in pilgrim's garb, after seven years' 
absence, to find his wife about to be handed 
over by her father to another prince. He lets 
his ring fall into a cup, and goes away ; his 
wife recognizes the ring, and is reunited to him. 
The story has passed from the Bohemian into 
Russian and Magyar. Feifalik, Sitzungsbe- 
richte der phil.-hist. Classe der Wiener Akad- 
emie, xxix, 83 ff, the ring at p. 92 ; xxxn, 
322 £F. 

Similar use is made of the ring in other 
German romances. (1.) ' Der edle Moringer ' 
(MS. of 14th century) asks his wife to wait 
seven years for him, while he visits the land 
of St Thomas. He is warned by an angel, at 
the expiration of that period, that he will lose 
her if he does not go back, bewails himself to 
his patron, and is conveyed home in a sleep. 
He begs an alms at his castle-gate in the name 
of God, St Thomas, and the noble Moringer ; 
is admitted to his wife's presence ; sings a lay 
describing his own case, which moves the lady 
much ; throws into a beaker of wine, which 
she sets before him, the ring by which she 
was married to him, sends the cup back to 
her, and is recognized. Bohme, No 6, p. 32 ; 
Uhland, No 298, p. 773. (2.) In the older 
Hildebrandslied, which is of the 14th century, 
or earlier, the hero, returning after an absence 
of thirty-two years, drops his ring into a cup 
of wine presented to him by his wife. Bohme, 
No 1, p. 1 ; Uhland, No 132, p. 330. (3.) 
Wolfdietrich drops Ortnit's ring into a cup of 
wine sent him by Liebgart, who has been ad- 
judged to the Graf von Biterne in considera- 
tion of his having, as he pretended, slain the 
dragon. The cup is returned to the empress, 
the ring identified, the pretension refuted, and 

♦ I have not seen this, and depend npon others here. 

t Godeke, ' Reinfrit von Braunschweig,' p. 89, conjectures 
that the half ring viras, or would have been, employed in the 
sequel by some impostor (the story may never have been fin- 
ished) as evidence of Brunswick's death. A ring is so used 
in a Silesian tradition, of the general character of that of 

Henry the Lion, with the difference that the knight is awak- 
ened by a cock's crowing : ' Die Hahnkrahe bei Breslau,' in 
Kern's Schlesische Sagen-Chronik, p. 151. There is a varia- 
tion of this last, without the deception by means of the ring, 
in Goedsche's Schlesischer Sagenschatz, p. 37, No 16. 




Liebgart given to Ortnit's avenger. Wolf- 
dietrich B, ed. Janicke, I, 280 ff, stanzas 767- 
785. (4.) King Rother (whose history has 
passages of the strongest resemblance to 
Horn's), coming to retrieve his wife, who has 
been kidnapped and carried back to her fa- 
ther, lands below Constantinople, at a woody 
and hilly place, and assumes a pilgrim's dis- 
guise. On his way to the city he meets a 
man who tells him that Ymelot of Babylon 
has invaded Greece, and taken Constantin, his 
wife's father, prisoner ; and that Constantin, 
to save his life, has consented to give his 
daughter to the heathen king's son. Rother 
steals into the hall, and even under the table 
at which the royal party are sitting, and con- 
trives to slip his ring into the hand of his 
distressed young queen, who, thus assured of 
his presence, immediately recovers her spirits. 
Massmann, Deutsche Gedichte des zwoelften 
Jahrhunderts, Theil ii, p. 213, vv. 3687-3878. 
One of the best and oldest stories of the 
kind we are engaged with is transmitted by 
Caesarius of Heisterbach in his Dialogus 
Miraculorum, of the first quarter of the 18th 
century. Gerard, a soldier living in Holen- 
bach (" his grandchildren are still alive, and 
there is hardly a man in the town who does 
not know about this "), being, like Moringer, 
devoted to St Thomas of India, was impelled 
to visit his shrine. He broke a ring and gave 
one half to his wife, saying, Expect me back in 
five years, and marry whom you wish if I do 
not come then. The journey, which would be 
long enough any way, was providentially pro- 
tracted. He reached the shrine at last, and 
said his prayers, and then remembered that 
that was the last day of his fifth year. Alas, 
my wife will marry again, he thought ; and 
quite right he was, for the wedding was even 
then preparing. A devil, acting under the 
orders of St Thomas, set*Gerard down at his 
own door. He found his wife supping with 
her second partner, and di-opped his half ring 
into her cup. She took it out, fitted it to the 
half which had been given her, rushed into his 

* There are marked correspondences between Boccaccio's 
story and the veritable history of Henry the Lion as given 
by Bartscb, Herzog Ernst, cxxvi f : e. g., the presents of 

arms, and bade good-by to the new bride- 
groom. Ed. Strange, n, 131. 

A tradition closely resembling this has been 
found in Switzerland, Gerard and St Thomas 
being exchanged for Wernhart von Strattlin- 
gen and St Michael. Menzel's Odin, p. 96. 

Another of the most remarkable tales of 
this class is exquisitely told by Boccaccio in 
the Decamerone, G. x, N. ix. Messer Torello, X 
going to the crusade, begs his wife to wait a 
year, a month, and a day before she marries 
again. The lady assures him that she will 
never be another man's wife ; but he replies 
that a woman young, beautiful, and of high 
family, as she is, will not be allowed to have 
her way. With her parting embrace she gives 
him a ring from her finger, saying. If I die 
before I see you again, remember me when 
you look on this. The Christians were wasted 
by an excessive mortality, and those who es- 
caped the ravages of disease fell into the 
hands of Saladin, and were imprisoned by him 
in various cities, Torello in Alexandria. Here 
he was recognized by Saladin, whom he had 
entertained with the most delicate and splen- 
did hospitality a few months before, when the 
soldan was travelling through Italy in dis- 
guise. Saladin's return for this courtesy was 
so magnificent as almost to put Lombardy out 
of Torello's head,* and besides he trusted that 
his wife had been informed of his safety by a 
letter which he had sent. This was not so, how- 
ever, and the death of another Torello was re- 
ported in Italy as his, in consequence of which 
his supposed widow was solicited in marriage, 
and was obliged to consent to take another 
husband after the time should have expired 
which she had promised to wait. A week 
before the last day, Torello learned that the 
ship which carried his letter had been wrecked, 
and the thought that his wife would now 
marry again drove him almost mad. Saladin 
extracted from him the cause of his distress, 
and promised that he should yet be at home 
before the time was out, which Torello, who 
had heard that such things had often been 

clothes by the empress (transferred to Torello's wife), and 
the handsome behavior of two soldans, here attributed to 



done, was ready to believe. And in fact, by 
means of one of his necromancers, Saladin 
caused Torello to be transported to Pa via in 
one night — the night before the new nuptials. 
Torello appeared at the banquet the next day 
in the guise of a Saracen, under the escort of 
an uncle of his, a churchman, and at the right 
moment sent word to the lady that it was a 
custom in his country for a bride to send her 
cup filled with wine to any stranger who might 
be present, and for him to drink half and cover 
the cup, and for her to drink the rest. To 
this the lady graciously assented. Torello 
drank out most of the wine, dropped in the 
ring which his wife had given him when they 
parted, and covered the cup. The lady, upon 
lifting the cover, saw the ring, knew her hus- 
band, and, upsetting the table in her ecstasy, 
threw herself into Torello's arms. 

Tales of this description still maintain them- 
selves in popular tradition. 'Der Ring ehe- 
licher Treue,' Gottschalk, Deutsche Volksmar- 
chen, n, 135, relates how Kuno von Falken- 
stein, going on a crusade, breaks his ring and 
gives one half to his wife, begging her to wait 
seven years before she marries again. He 
has the adventures of Henry of Brunswick, 
with differences, and, like Moringer, sings a 
lay describing his own case. The new bride- 
groom hands him a cup ; he drops in his half 
ring, and passes the cup to the bride. The 
two halves join of themselves.* Other exam- 
ples, not without variations and deficiencies, in 
details, are afforded by ' Der getheilte Trau- 
ring,' Schmitz, Sagen u. Legenden des Eifler 
Volkes, p. 82; * Bodman,' Uhland, in Pfeif- 
fer's Germania, IV, 73-76 ; ' Graf Hubert von 
Kalw,' Meier, Deutsche Sagen, u. s. w., aus 
Schwaben, p. 332, No 369, Grimms, Deutsche 
Sagen, No 524 ; ' Der Barenhauter,' Grimms, 
K. u. H. marchen. No 101 ; ' Berthold von 
Neuhaus,' in Kern's Schlesische Sagen-Chro- 
nik, p. 93. 

* Without the conclnsion, also in Binder's Schwabische 
Volkssagen, ii, 173. These Volksmarchen, by the way, are 
" erzahlt " by Gottschalk. • It is not made quite so clear as 
could be wished, whether they are merely re-told. 

t Germaine's husband, after an absence of seven years, 
overcomes his wife's doubts of his identity by exhibiting half 
of her ring, which happened to break the day of their wed- 

A story of the same kind is interwoven 
with an exceedingly impressive adventure re- 
lated of Richard Sans-Peur in Les Chroniques 
de Normandie, Rouen, 1487, chap. Ivii, cited 
in Michel, Chronique des Dues de Normandie 
par Benoit, n, 336 ff. A second is told of 
Guillaume Martel, seigneur de Bacqueville ; 
still others of a seigneur Gilbert de Lomblon, 
a comrade of St. Louis in his first crusade. 
Am^lie de Bosquet, La Normandie romanesque 
et merveilleuse, pp. 465-68, 470. 

A Picard ballad, existing in two versions, 
partly cited by Rathery in the Moniteur Uni- 
versel for August 26, 1853, tells of a Sire de 
Cr^qui, who, going beyond seas with his sov- 
ereign, breaks his ring and gives half to his 
young wife ; is gone ten years, and made cap- 
tive by the Turks, who condemn him to death 
on account of his adhesion to Christ ; and is 
transported to his chateau on the eve of the 
day of his doom. This very day his wife is to 
take another husband, sorely against her will. 
Cr^qui appears in the rags of a beggar, and 
legitimates himself by producing his half of 
the ring (which, in a way not explained by 
Rathery, has been brought back by a swan). 

' Le Retour du Mari,' Puymaigre, Chants 
populaires messins, p. 20, has also some traits 
of ballads of this class. A bridegroom has to 
go on a campaign the very day of his nup- 
tials. The campaign lasts seven years, and 
the day of his return his wife is about to re- 
marry. He is invited to the wedding supper, 
and towards the close of it proposes to play 
cards to see who shall have the bride. The 
guests are surprised. The soldier says he will 
have the bride without winning her at cards 
or dice, and, turning to the lady, asks, Where 
are the rings I gave you at your wedding 
seven years ago ? She will go for them ; and 
here the story breaks off.f 

The same hard fortune is that of Costan- 
tino, a young Albanian, who is called to the 

ding, or the day after: Puymaigre, p. 11, Champfleury, 
Chansons des Provinces, p. 77. The conclusion to Sir Tris- 
trem, which Scott supplied, " abridged from the French met- 
rical romance, in the style of Tomas of Erceldoune," makes 
Ganhardin lay a ring in a cup which Brengwain hands 
Ysonde, who recognizes the ring as Tristrem's token. The 
cup was one of the presents made to King Mark by Tris- 



service of his king three days after his mar- 
riage. He gives back her ring to his wife, 
and tells her he must go to the wars for nine 
years. Should he not return in nine years 
and nine days, he bids her marry. The young 
wife says nothing, waits her nine years and 
nine days, and then, since she is much sought 
for, her father wishes her to marry. She says 
nothing, again, and they prepare for the bridal. 
Costantino, sleeping in the king's palace, has 
a bad dream, which makes him heave a sigh 
that comes to his sovereign's ear. The king 
summons all his soldiers, and inquires who 
heaved that sigh. Costantino confesses it was 
he, and says it was because his wife was mar- 
rying. The king orders him to take the swift- 
est -horse and mdke for his home. Costantino 
meets his father, and learns that his dream is 
true, presses on to the church, arrives at the 
door at the same time as the bridal procession, 
and ofiEers himself for a bride's-man. When 
they come to the exchange of rings, Costantino 
contrives that his ring shall remain on the 
bride's finger. She knows the ring ; her tears 
burst forth. Costantino declares himself as 
having been already crowned with the lady.* 
Camarda, Appendice al Saggio di Grammato- 
logia, etc., 90-97, a Calabrian-Albanese copy. 
There is a Sicilian, but incomplete, in Vigo, 
Canti popolari siciliani, p. 342 ff, ed. 1857, p. 
695 ff, ed. 1870-74. 

With this belongs a ballad, very common 
in Greece, which, however, has for the most 
part lost even more of what was in all prob- 
ability the original catastrophe. ^'Avayvoipia-- 
fi6?,' Chasiotis, Popular Songs of Epirus, p. 88, 
No 27, comes nearer the common story than 
other versions.! A man who had been twelve 
years a slave after being a bridegroom of 
three days, dreams that his wife is marrying, 

runs to' the cellar, and begins to sing dirges. 
The king hears, and is moved. " If it is one 
of the servants, increase his pay ; if a slave, 
set him free." The slave tells his story (in 
three lines) ; the king bids him take a swift 
gray. The slave asks the horses, which is a 
swift gray. Only one answers, an old steed 
with forty wounds. " I am a swift gray ; tie 
two or three handkerchiefs around your head, 
and tie yourself to my back ! " J He comes 
upon his father pruning the vineyard. " Whose 
sheep are those feeding in the meadows ? " 
"My lost son's." He comes to his mother. 
■ *' What bride are they marrying ? " " My lost 
son's." " Shall I get to them in church while 
they are crowning ? " " If you have a fast 
horse, you will find them crowning ; if you 
have a bad horse, you will find them at ta- 
ble." He finds them at church, and calls out, 
A bad way ye have : why do ye not bring out 
the bride, so that strangers may give her the 
cup ? A good way we have, they answer, 
we who bring out the bride, and strangers 
give her the cup. Then he takes out his ring, 
while he is about to present the cup to the 
bride. The bride can read ; she stands and 
reads (his name), and bids the company be- 
gone, for her mate has come, the first crowned. 
In other cases we find the hero in prison. 
He was put in for thirty days ; the keys are 
lost, and he stays thirty years. Legrand, p. 
326, No 145 ; NcocXViKi 'AroAcKra, i, 85, No 19. 
More frequently he is a galley slave: Zam- 
belios, p. 678, No 103 = Passow, No 448; 
Tommaseo, ill, 152 = Passow, No 449 ; Sa- 

kellarios, Ktnrptajca, III, 37, No 13 : NeoeXAT^nKO 

'AvaXcKTa, I, 86, No 20 ; Jeannaraki, "ka^ara 
KprjTLKa, p. 203, No 265. His bad dream [a 
letter from home] makes him heave a sigh 
which shakes the prison, or stops [splits] the 

trera's envoy, and is transferred to Ysonde by Scott. The 
passage has been cited as ancient and genuine. 

* In the Greek rite, rings are used in the betrothal, which 
as a rule immediately precedes the marriage. The rings 
are exchanged by the priest and sponsors (Camarda says 
three times). Crowns, of vine twigs, etc., are the emblems 
in the nuptial ceremony, and these are also changed from 
one head to the other. 

t I was guided to nearly all these Greek ballads by Pro- 
fessor Liebrecht's notes, Zur Volkskunde, p. 207. 

J This high-mettled horse is a capital figure in most ot 
the versions. In one of them the caution is given, " Do not 
feel safe in spurring him : he will scatter thy brains ten ells 
below the ground." The gray (otherwise the black) ia of 
the same breed as the Bussian Dobrynya's, a little way on ; or 
the foal that took Charles the Great, under similar circum- 
stances, from Passau to Aachen between mom and eve, 
('Karl der Grosse,' from Enenkels Weltbuch, c. 1250, in 
von der Hagen's Gesammtabenteuer, ii, 619 ff) ; or the 
black in the poem and tale of Thedel von Walmoden. 



galley.* In Tommaseo, ni, 152, on reaching 
the church, he cries, " Stand aside, gentlemen, 
stand aside, my masters ; let the bride pour 
for me." She pours him one cup and two, and 
exclaims (the ring which was dropped into 
the cup having dropped out of the story), My 
John has come back ! Then they both " go 
out like candles." In Sakellarios they embrace 
and fall dead, and when laid in the grave come 
up as a cypress and a citron tree. In the Cretan 
ballad John does not dismount, but takes the 
bride on to the horse and is off with her ; so 
in the beautiful ballad in Fauriel, ii, 140, No 
11, * 'H 'Apiray^,' " peut-6tre la plus distingu^e 
de ce recueil," which belongs with this group, 
but seems to be later at the beginning and the 
end. Even here the bride takes a cup to pour 
a draught for the horseman. 

In Russia the ring story is told of Dobrynya 
and Nastasya. Dobrynya, sent out shortly 
after his marriage to collect tribute for Vladi- 
mir, requests Nastasya to wait for him twelve 
years : then she may wed again, so it be not 
with Alesha. Twelve years pass. Alesha 
avows that he has seen Dobrynya's corpse 
lying on the steppe, and sues for her hand. 
Vladimir supports the suit, and Nastasya is 
constrained to accept this prohibited husband. 
Dobrynya's horse [two doves, a pilgrim] re- 
veals to his master what is going on, and car- 
ries him home with marvellous speed. Do- 
brynya gains admittance to the wedding-feast 
in the guise of a merry-maker, and so pleases 
Vladimir with his singing that he is allowed 
to sit where he likes. He places himself op- 
posite Nastasya, drops his ring in a cup, and 
asks her to drink to him. She finds the ring in 

the bottom, falls at his feet and implores par- 
don. f Wollner, Volksepik der Grossrussen, 
p. 122 f ; Rarabaud, La Russie Epique, p. 86 f. 

We have the ring employed somewhat after 
the fashion of these western tales in Soma- 
deva's story of Vidushaka. The Vidyudhdrf 
Bhadrd, having to part for a while with Vi- 
dushaka, for whom she had conceived a pas- 
sion, gives him her ring. Subsequently, Vi- 
dushaka obliges a rakshas whom he has subdued 
to convey him to the foot of a mountain on 
which Bhadrd, had taken refuge. Many beau- 
tiful girls come to fetch water in golden pitch- 
ers from a lake, and, on inquiring, Vidushaka 
finds that the water is for Bhadr4. One of 
the girls asks him to lift her pitcher on to her 
shoulder, and while doing this he drops into 
the pitcher Bhadrd's ring. When the water 
is poured on Bhadrd's hands, the ring falls 
out. Bhadrd asks her maids if they have seen 
a stranger. They say they have seen a mor- 
tal, and that he had helped one of them with 
her pitcher. They are ordered to go for the 
youth at once, for he is Bhadrd's consort.J 

According to the letter of the ballads, should 
the ring given Horn by his lady turn wan or 
blue, this would signify that she loved another 
man : but though accuracy would be very de- 
sirable in such a case, these words are rather 
loose, since she never faltered in her love, and 
submitted to marry another, so far as she sub- 
mitted, only under constraint. ' Horn Child,' 
sts 48, 71, agrees with the ballads as to this 
point. We meet a ring of similar virtue in 
' Bonny Bee-Hom,' Jamieson's Popular Bal- 
lads, 1, 187, and Buchan's Ballads of the North 
of Scotland, i, 169. 

* In Jeannaraki the bey says, " My slave, give us a song, 
and I will free you." John sings of his love, whom he was 
to lose that day. So Zambelios, as above, Tommaseo, p. 
152, and Neo. 'Ayix. No. 20. Compare Brunswick, in 
Wyssenhere, and Moringer. 

t Otherwise : Nastasya waits six years, as desired ; is told 
that Dobrynya is dead and is urged to marry Alesha ; will 
not hear of marriage for six years more ; Vladimir then inter- 
poses. Dobrynya is furious, as these absentees are sometimes 
pleased to be. He complains that women have long hair 
and short wits, and so does Brunswick in Wyssenhere's 
poem, St. 89. Numerous as are the instances of these long 
absences, the woman is rarely, if ever, represented as in the 
least to blame. The behavior of the man, on the other hand. 

is in some cases trying. Thus, the Conde Dirlos tells his 
young wife to wait for him seven years, and if he does not 
come in eight to marry the ninth. He accomplishes the ob- 
ject of his expedition in three years, but stays fifteen, never 
writes, — he had taken an unnecessary oath not to do that 
before he started, — and forbids anybody else to write, on 
pain of death. Such is his humor ; but he is very much pro- 
voked at being reported dead. Wolf and Hofmann, Pri- 
mavera y Flor de Romances, ii, 129, No 164. 

X Katha Sarit Sagara (of the early part of the 12th cen- 
tury), Tawney's translation, i, 136 ff. The story is cited by 
Rajna, in Romania, vi, 359. Herr v. Bodman leaves his 
marriage ring in a wash-bowl ! Meier, Deutsche V. m. aus 
Schwaben, 214 f. 



* But gin this ring should fade or fail, 
Or the stone should change its hue, 

Be sure your love is dead and gone, 
Or she has proved untrue.' 

Jamieson, p. 191. 

In the Roumanian ballad, ' Ring and Hand- 
kerchief,' a prince going to war gives his wife 
a ring : if it should rust, he is dead. She gives 
him a gold-embroidered handkerchief : if the 
gold melts, she is dead. Alecsandri, Poesii 
pop. ale Romanilor, p. 20, No 7; Stanley, 
Rouman Anthology, p. 16, p. 193. In Gon- 
zenbach's Sicilianische Marchen, I, 39, No 7, a 
prince, on parting with his sister, gives her a 
ring, saying. So long as the stone is clear, I 
am well : if it is dimmed, that is a sign that I 
am dead. So No 5, at p. 23. A young man, 
in a Silesian story, receives a ring from his 

sweetheart, with the assurance that he can 
count upon her faith as long as the ring holds ; 
and after twenty years' detention in the mines 
of Siberia, is warned of trouble by the ring's 
breaking : Goedsche, Schlesischer Sagen- His- 
torien- u. Legendenschatz, i, 37, No 16. So in 
some copies of ' Lamkin,' the lord has a fore- 
boding that some ill has happened to his lady 
from the rings on his fingers bursting in twain : 
Motherwell, p. 291, st. 23 ; Finlay, n, 47, st. 

Hind Horn is translated by Grundtvig, Eng. 
og sk. Folkeviser, p. 274, No 42, mainly after 
the copy in Motherwell's Minstrelsy ; by Rosa 
Warrens, Schottische V. 1. der Vorzeit, p. 161, 
No 37, after Buchan (H) ; by Knortz, L. u. 
R. Alt-Englands, p. 184, No 52, after Ailing- 

Motherwell's MS., p. 106. From Mrs King, KUbarchan. 

1 In Scotland there was a babie born, 

LiB lal, etc. 
And his name it was called young Hind Horn. 
With a fal lal, etc. 

2 He sent a letter to our king 

That he was in love with his daughter Jean. 

3 He 's gien to her a silver wand. 

With seven living lavrocks sitting thereon. 

4 She 's gien to him a diamond ring, 
With seven bright diamonds set therein. 

* The ring given Horn by Rymenhild, in ' King Horn,' 
579 ff (Wissmann), and in the French romance, 2056 ff, pro- 
tects him against material harm or mishap, or assures him 
superiority in fight, as long as he is faithful. So in Buchan's 
version of ' Bonny Bee-Ho'm,' st. 8 : 

' As lang 's this ring 's your body on, 
Your blood shall neer be drawn.' 

" The king's daughter of Linne " gives her champion two 
rings, one of which renders him invulnerable, and the other 
will staunch the blood of any of his men who may be 
wounded : Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Introduction, p. Ivii. 
Eglamore's ring, Percy MS., ii, 363, st. 51, will preserve his 
life on water or land. A ring given Wolfdietrich by the 

6 ' When this ring grows pale and wan. 
You may know by it my love is gane.' 

6 One day as he looked his ring upon, 
He saw the diamonds pale and wan. 

7 He left the sea and came to land, 

And the first that he met was an old beggar 

8 ' What news, what news ? ' said young Hind 

' No news, no news,' said the old beggar man. 

9 ' No news,' said the beggar, * no news at a', 
But there is a wedding in the king's ha. 

empress, D viii, st. 42, ed. Janicke, doubles his strength 
and makes him fire-proof in his fight with the dragon. The 
ring lent Ywaine by his lady will keep hira from prison, 
sickness, loss of blood, or being made captive in battle, and 
give him superiority to all antagonists, so long as he is true 
in love : Ritson, Met. Rom. i, 65, vv 1533 ff. But an In- 
dian ring which Reinfrit receives from his wife before he de- 
parts for the crusade, 15,066 ff, has no equal, after all ; for, 
besides doing as much as the best of these, it imparts per- 
petual good spirits. It is interesting to know that this 
matchless jewel had once been the property of a Scottish 
king, and was given by him to his daughter when she was 
sent to Norway to be married : under convoy of Sir Patrick 
Spens ? 



10 * But there is a wedding in the king's ha, 
That has halden these forty days and twa.' 

11 * Will ye lend me your begging coat ? 
And I 'U lend you my scarlet cloak. 

12 ' Will you lend me your beggar's nmg ? 
And I '11 gie you my steed to ride upon. 

13 * Will you lend me your wig o hair, 
To cover mine, because it is fair ? ' 

14 The auld beggar man was bound for the mill, 
But young Hind Horn for the king's hall. 

15 The auld beggar man was bound for to ride. 
But young Hind Horn was bound for the bride. 

16 When he came to the king's gate, 

He sought a drink for Hind Horn's sake. 

17 The bride came down with a glass of wine. 
When he drank out the glass, and dropt in the 


18 ' got ye this by sea or land ? 

Or got ye it off a dead man's hand ? ' . 

19 ' I got not it by sea, I got it by land, 

And I got it, madam, out of your own 

20 ' I 'U cast off my gowns of brown, 
And beg wi you frae town to town. 

21 ' I 'U cast off my gowns of red. 
And I 'U beg wi you to win my bread.' 

22 ' Ye needna cast off your gowns of brown, 
For I '11 make you lady o many a town. 

23 ' Ye needna cast off your gowns of red, 

It 's only a sham, the begging o my bread.' 

24 The bridegroom he had wedded the bride. 
But yovmg Hind Horn he took her to bed. 


Motherwell's MS., p. 418. From the singing of a servant- 
girl at Halkhead. 

1 I NEVER saw my love before. 

With a hey lillelu and a ho lo Ian 
Till I saw her thro an oger bore. 

With a hey down and a hey diddle downie 

2 She gave to me a gay gold ring. 

With three shining diamonds set therein. 

3 And I gave to her a silver wand. 
With three singing lavrocks set thereon. 

4 ' What if these diamonds lose their hue. 
Just when your love begins for to rew ? ' 

5 He 's left the land, and he 's gone to sea, 
And he 's stayd there seven years and a day. 

6 But when he looked this ring upon, 

The shining diamonds were both pale and 

7 He 's left the seas and he 's come to the land. 
And there he met with an auld beggar man. 

8 ' What news, what news, thou auld beggar man 
For it is seven years sin I 've seen Ian.' 

9 ' No news,' said the old beggar man, ' at all, 
But there is a wedding in the king's hall.' 

10 ' Wilt thou give to me thy begging coat ? 
And 1 '11 give to thee my scarlet cloak. 

11 ' Wilt thou give to me thy begging staff ? 
And I '11 give to thee my good gray steed.' 

12 The old beggar man was bound for to ride, 
But Yoimg Hynd Horn was bound for the 

bride. " 

13 When he came to the king's gate. 

He asked a drink for Young Hjoid Horn's sake. 

14 The news unto the bonnie bride came 
That at the yett there stands an auld man. 



15 ' There stands an auld man at the king's gate ; 
He asketh a drink for young Hyn Horn's sake.' 

16 * 1 11 go thro nine fii*es so hot. 

But I '11 give him a drink for Young Hyn Horn's 

17 She gave him a drink out of her own hand ; 
He drank out the drink and he dropt in the 


18 * Got thou 't by sea, or got thou 't by land ? 
Or got thou 't out of any dead man's hand ? ' 

19 ' I got it not by sea, but I got it by land, 
For I got it out of thine own hand.' 

20 * I '11 cast off my gowns of brown, 
And I '11 follow thee from town to town. 

21 * I '11 cast off my gowns of red. 

And along with thee I '11 beg my bread.' 

22 ' Thou need not cast off thy gowns of brown, 
For I can make thee lady of many a town. 

23' ' Thou need not cast off thy gowns of red, 
For I can maintain thee with both wine and 

24 The bridegroom thought he had the bonnie 
bride wed, 
But Young Hyn Horn took the bride to bed. 

a. Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 42 : from Agnes Lyle. b. 
Motherwell's MS., p. 413 : from the singing of Agnes Lyle, 
Eilbarchan, August 24, 1825. 

1 Yoxmo Hyn Horn 's to the king's court gone, 

Hoch hey and an ney O 
He 's fallen in love with his little daughter 
Let my love alone, I pray you 

2 He 's bocht to her a little gown. 

With seven broad flowers spread it along. 

3 She 's given to him a gay gold ring. 
The posie upon it was richt plain. 

4 ' When you see it losing its comely hue. 
So will I my love to you.' 

5 Then within a little wee, 

Hyn Horn left land and went to sea. 

6 When he lookt his ring upon, 
He saw it growing pale and wan. 

7 Then within a httle [wee] again, 

Hyn Horn left sea and came to the land. 

8 As he was riding along the way, 
There he met with a jovial beggar. 

9 * What news, what news, old man ? ' he did say : 
' This is the king's young dochter's wedding 

10 * If this be true you tell to me. 
You must niffer clothes with me. 

11 ' You 'U gie me your cloutit coat, 
I '11 gie you my fine velvet coat. 

12 ' You '11 gie me your cloutit pock, 

I '11 gie you my purse ; it '11 be no joke.' 

13 ' Perhaps there['s] nothing in it, not one baw- 

bee ;' 
* Yes, there 's gold and silver both,' said he. 

14 ' You '11 gie me your bags of bread. 
And I 'U gie you my milk-white steed.' 

15 When they had niff ered all, he said, 
' You maun learn me how I '11 beg.' 

16 ' When you come before the gate. 

You 'U ask for a drink for the highman's sake.' 

17 When that he came before the gate, 

He caUd for a drink for the highman's sake. 

18 The bride cam tripping down the stair, 
To see whaten a bold beggar was there. 



19 She gave ^im a drink with her own hand ; 
He loot the ring drop in the can. 

20 * Got ye this by sea or land ? 

Or took ye 't afE a dead man's hand ? ' 

21 * I got na it by sea nor land, 
But I got it a£E your own hand.' 

22 The bridegroom cam tripping down the stair, 
But there was neither bride nor beggar there. 

23 Her ain bridegroom had her first wed, 
But Young Hyn Horn had her first to bed. 

Cromek's Select Scotish Songs, ii, 204. 

1 Near Edinburgh was a young son bom, 

Hey Ulelu an a how low Ian 
An his name it was called young Hyn Horn. 
An it 's hey down down deedle airo 

2 Seven long years he served the king. 

An it 's a' for the sake of his daughter Jean. 

3 The king an angry man was he ; 

He send young Hyn Horn to the sea. 

4 An on his J&nger she put a ring. 


5 ' "When your ring turns pale and wan, 
Then I 'm in love wi another man.' 


6 Upon a day he lookd at his ring, 
It was as pale as anything. 

7 He 's left the sea, an he 's come to the Ian, 
An there he met an auld beggar man. 

8 * What news, what news, my auld beggar man? 
What news, what news, by sea or by Ian ? ' 

9 * Nae news, nae news,' the auld beggar said, 
' But the king's dochter Jean is going to be 

10 * Cast off, cast off thy auld beggar-weed, 
An I '11 gie thee my gude gray steed.' 


11 When he cam to our guid king's yet. 

He sought a glass o wine for young Hyn Horn's 

12 He drank out the wine, an he put in the ring. 
An he bade them carry 't to the king's dochter 


13 * gat ye 't by sea, or gat ye 't by Ian ? 
Or gat ye 't aff a dead man's han ? ' 

14 ' I gat na 't by sea, I gat na 't by Ian, 
But I gat it out of your own ban.' 


15 * Go take away my bridal gown, 

For I '11 follow him frae town to town.' 

16 * Ye need na leave your bridal gown, 
For I 'U make ye ladie o' mony a town.' 


Motherwell's MS., p. 91. From the recitation of Mrs 


1 Htnd Horn he has lookt on his ring. 
Hey ninny ninny, how ninny nanny 
And it was baith black and blue, 
And she is either dead or she 's married. 
And the barck and the broom blooms bon- 

2 Hynd Horn he has shuped to land. 

And the first he met was an auld beggar man. 

3 ' What news, what news, my silly auld man ? 
For it is seven years syne I have seen land. 

4 ' What news, what news, jmy auld beggar man? 
What news, what news, by sea or by land ? * 

5 * There is a king's dochter in the east, 

And she has been marryed these nine nights 



6 * Intil the bride's bed she winna gang 
Till she hears tell of her Hynd Horn.' 

7 ' Cast aff, cast aff thy auld beggar weed, 
And I will gie thee my gude gray steed.' 


Lowran Castle, or the "Wild Boar of Cnrridoo: with 
other Tales. By Robert Trotter, Dumfries, 1822, p. 6, 
From the recitation of a young friend. 

1 In Newport town this knight was bom, 

Hey lily loo, hey loo Ian 
And they 've called him Young Hynd Horn. 
Fal lal la, fal the dal the dady 

2 Seven long years he served the king, 
For the love of his daughter Jean. 

3 He courted her through a wimble bore. 
The way never woman was courted before. 

4 He gave her through a silver wand. 
With three singing laverocks there upon. 

5 She gave him back a gay gold ring. 
With three bright diamonds glittering. 

6 ' When this ring grows pale and blue, 
Fair Jeanie's love is lost to you.' 

7 Young Hynd Horn is gone to sea, 
And there seven long years staid he. 

8 When he lookd his ring upon, 
It grew pale and it grew wan. 

9 Young Hynd Horn is come to land, 
When he met an old beggar man. 

10 * What news, what news doth thee betide ? ' 
' No news, but Princess Jeanie 's a bride.' 

11 ' Will ye give me your old brown cap ? 
And I '11 give you my gold-laced hat. 

12 ' Will ye give me your begging weed ? 
And I 'U give you my good grey steed.' 

13 The beggar has got on to ride. 

But Young Hynd Horn 's bound for the bride. 

* # # * # 


Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 135. "From the 
recitation of my niece, M. Kinnear, 23 Aug', 1826:" the 
north of Scotland. 

1 *Htnde Horn's boimd love, and Hynde 

Horn 's free, 
Whare was ye born, or in what coimtrie ? ' 

2 * In gude greenwud whare I was bom. 
And all my friends left me forlorn. 

3 ' I gave my love a silver wand ; 
That was to rule oure all Scotland. 

4 * My love gave me a gay gowd ring ; 
That was to rule abune a' thing.' 

5 ' As lang as that ring keeps new in hue. 
Ye may ken that your love loves you. 

6 ' But whan that ring turns pale and wan, 

Ye may ken that your love loves anither man.' 

7 He hoisted up his sails, and away sailed he, 
TiU that he cam to a foreign countrie. 

8 He looked at his ring ; it was tumd pale and 

wan ; 
He said, ' I wish I war at hame again.' 

9 He hoisted up his sails, and hame sailed he, 
Until that he came to his ain countrie. 

10 The first ane that he met wi 
Was wi a puir auld beggar man. 

11 ' What news, what news, my siUy old man ? 
What news hae ye got to tell to me ? ' 

12 ' Na news, na news,' the puir man did say, 
'But this is our queen's wedding day.' 

13 * Ye 'U lend me your begging weed. 
And I 'U gie you my riding steed.' 



14 * My begging weed is na for thee, 
Your riding steed is na for me.' 

15 But he has changed wi the beggar man, 

16 ' Which is the gate that ye used to gae ? 
And what are the words ye beg wi ? ' 

17 ' Whan ye come to yon high hill. 

Ye '11 draw your bent bow nigh until. 

18 ' Whan ye come to yonder town. 

Ye 'U let your bent bow low fall down. 

19 'Ye '11 seek meat for St Peter, ask for St 

And seek for the sake of Hynde Horn all. 

20 ' But tak ye frae nane of them a', 

TiU ye get frae the bonnie bride hersel O.' 

21 Whan he cam to yon high hiU, 
He drew his bent bow nigh until. 

22 And whan he cam to yonder town, 
He lute his bent bow low fall doA/vn. 

23. He saught meat for St Peter, he askd for St 
And he sought for the sake of Hynde Horn 

25 The bride cam tripping doim the stair, 
Wi the scales o red gowd on her hair. 

26 Wi a glass of red wine in her hand, 
To gie to the puir auld beggar man. 

27 It 's out he drank the glass o wine. 
And into the glass he dropt the ring. 

28 ' Got ye 't by sea, or got ye 't by land, 
Or got ye 't aff a drownd man's hand ? ' 

29 ' I got na 't by sea, I got na 't by land. 
Nor got I it aff a drownd man's hand. 

30 ' But I got it at my wooing. 
And I '11 gie it at your wedding.' 

31 ' I '11 tak the scales o gowd frae my head, 
I 'U foUow you, and beg my bread. 

32 ' I '11 tak the scales of gowd frae my hair, 
I '11 follow you for evermair.' 

33 She has tane the scales o gowd frae her head. 
She has followed him to beg her bread. 

34 She has tane the scales o gowd frae her hair, 
And she has followed him for evermair. 

35 But atween the kitchen and the ha. 
There he lute his cloutie cloak fa. 

24 But he would tak frae nane o them a'. 
Till he got frae the bonnie bride hersel 0. 

36 And the red gowd shined oure him a'. 

And the bride frae the bridegroom was stown 

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, ii, 268. 

1 ' Htnd Horn fair, and Hynd Horn free, 

O where were you born, in what countrie ? ' 

2 ' In gude greenwood, there I was born, 
And all my forbears me beforn. 

3 ' O seven years I served the king. 
And as for wages, I never gat nane ; 

4 * But ae sight o his ae daughter. 
And that was thro an augre bore. 

5 ' My love gae me a siller wand, 
'T was to rule ower a' Scotland. 

6 * And she gae me a gay gowd ring. 
The virtue o 't was above a' thing.' 

7 ' As lang 's this ring it keeps the hue. 
Ye '11 know I am a lover true : 

8 ' But when the ring turns pale and wan, 
Ye '11 know I love another man.' 

9 He hoist up sails, and awa saUd he, 
And saild into a far countrie. 



10 And when he lookd upon his ring, 
He knew she loved another man. 

11 He hoist up sails and home came he, 
Home unto his ain countrie. 

23 He took nane frae Peter nor frae Paul, 
Nane frae the high nor low o them all. 

24 And frae them all he would take nane. 
Until it came frae the hride's ain hand. 

12 The first he met on his own land, 
It chaned to be a beggar man. 

13 ' What news, what news, my gude auld man ? 
What news, what news, hae ye to me ? ' 

14 ' Nae news, nae news,' said the auld man, 
' The morn's our queen's wedding day.' 

15 ' Will ye lend me your begging weed ? 
And I '11 lend you my riding steed.' 

16 ' My begging weed will ill suit thee. 
And your riding steed will ill suit me.' 

17 But part be right, and part be wrang, 
Frae the beggar man the cloak he wan. 

18 ' Auld man, come tell to me your leed ; 
What news ye gie when ye beg your bread.' 

19 ' As ye walk up unto the hill, 
Your pike staff ye lend ye till. 

20 * But whan ye come near by the yett, 
Straight to them ye will upstep. 

21 ' Take nane frae Peter, nor frae Paul, 
Nane frae high or low o them all. 

22 ' And frae them all ye will take nane. 
Until it comes frae the bride's ain hand.' 

25 The bride came tripping down the stair. 
The combs o red gowd in her hair. 

26 A cup o red wine in her hand. 
And that she gae to the beggar man. 

27 Out o the cup he drank the wine. 
And into the cup he dropt the ring. 

28 ' got ye 't by sea, or got ye't by land, 
Or got ye 't on a drownd man's hand ? * 

29 ' I got it not by sea, nor got it by land, 
Nor got I it on a drownd man's hand. 

30 ' But I got it at my wooing gay. 

And I '11 gie 't you on your wedding day.* 

31 ' I '11 take the red gowd frae my head. 
And follow you, and beg my bread. 

32 ' 1 11 take the red gowd frae my hair. 
And follow you for evermair.' 

33 Atween the kitchen and the ha. 
He loot his cloutie cloak down fa. 

34 And wi red gowd shone ower them a'. 
And frae the bridegroom the bride he sta. 

A. 1«, S\ 142, 15^ 162, 242. Hindhorn. 

B. The burden is given in Motherwell, Appendix, 
p. xviii, thus : 

With a hey hlloo and a how lo Ian 

And the birk and the brume blooms bonnie. 

122, 132. Hyndhom. 152, IG^, 24^. Hynhorn. E. 

C. a. 52. to see. 5^, 7". Hynhorn. 23^. H. horn. 

11^ clouted, 
lis U\ give. 

142. white nulk. b. milk-white. 

16^. hymen's, b. highman's. 

22^. can. 
b. 52, 72, 232. Hynhorn. 

7K little wee. 

131. there 's. 
1*, 32, 112. Hynhorn. 
The second line of the burden stands after st. 2 

in MS. 

2\ The MS reading may be sheeped. 

2\ 6*. Hyndhom. 



G. After my niece, M. Kinnear, etc., stands in pen- 
cil Christy Smith. 

15. On the ojjposite page, over against this 
stanza, is loritten : 

But part by richt, or part be wrang, 
The auldman's duddie cloak he 's on. 

G and H are printed hy Kinloch and hy 
Buchan in four-line stanzas. 

The stanzas printed by Motherwell, which 
have not been found in his manuscripts, are : 

10 Seven lang years he has been on the sea, 
And Hynd Horn has looked how his ring 
may be. 

21 The auld beggar man cast off his coat, 
And he 's taen up the scarlet cloak. 

22 The auld beggar man threw down his staff, 
And he has mounted the good gray steed. 

29 She went to the gate where the auld man 
did stand, 
And she gave him a drink out of her own 


A. • Sir Lionell,' Percy MS., p. 32, Hales and Furni- 
vall, I, 75. 

Poems, Ballads and Songs of the Peasantry of Eng- 
land, p. 124. 

B. *Isaac-a-Bell and Hugh the Graeme,' Christie, Tra- D. Allies, as above, p. 118. 
ditional Ballad Airs, i, 110. 

E. a. 'The Old Man and his Three Sons,' Bell, as 

C. a. ' The Jovial Hunter of Bromsgrove,' Allies, The above, p. 250. b. Mr Robert White's papers. 
British, Roman and Saxon Antiquities and Folk-Lore 

of Worcestershire, 2d ed., p. 116. b. Bell's Ancient F. Allies, as above, p. 120. 

B can be traced in Banffshire, according to 
Christie, for more than a hundred years, 
through the old woman that sang it, and her 
forbears. C a, D were originally published 
by Allies in the year 1845, in a pamphlet 
bearing the title The Jovial Hunter of Broms- 
grove, Home the Hunter, and Robin Hood. 
No intimation as to the source of his copy, 
C b, is given by Bell, i. e., Dixon. Appar- 
ently all the variations from Allies, C a, are 
of the nature of editorial improvements. B a 
is said (1857) to be current in the north of 
England as a nursery song. 

One half of A, the oldest and fullest copy 
of this ballad (the second and fourth quar- 
ters), is wanting in the Percy MS. What 
we can gather of the story is this. A knight 

finds a lady sitting in a tree. A, C, D [under 
a tree, E] , who tells him that a wild boar has 
slain Sir Broning, A [killed her lord and thirty 
of his men, O ; worried her lord and wounded 
thirty, E]. The knight kills the boar, B-D, 
and seems to have received bad wounds in the 
process, A, B ; the boar belonged to a giant, 
B ; or a wild woman, C, D. The knight is 
required to forfeit his hawks and leash, and 
the little finger of his right hand, A [his 
horse, his hound, and his lady, C]. He re- 
fuses to submit to such disgrace, though in no 
condition to resist, A ; the giant allows him 
time to heal his wounds, forty days, A ; thirty- 
three, B ; and he is to leave his lady as se- 
curity for his return, A. At the end of this 
time the knight comes back sound and well, 



A, B, and kills the giant as he had killed the 
boar, B. C and D say nothing of the knight 
having been wounded. The wild woman, to re- 
venge her " pretty spotted pig," flies fiercely 
at him, and he cleaves her in two. The last 
quarter of the Percy copy would, no doubt, 
reveal what became of the lady who was sit- 
ting in the tree, as to which the traditional 
copies give no light. 

Our ballad has much in common with the 
romance of ' Sir Eglamour of Artois,' Percy 
MS., Hales and Furnivall, n, 338 ; Thornton 
Romances, Camden Society, ed. Halliwell, p. 
121 ; Ellis, Metrical Romances, from an early 
printed copy, Bohn's ed., p. 527. Eglamour, 
simple knight, loving Christabel, an earl's 
daughter, is required by the father, who does 
not wish him well, to do three deeds of arms, 
the second being to kill a boar in the kingdom 
of Sattin or Sydon, which had been known to 
slay forty armed knights in one day (Percy, 
st. 37). This Eglamour does, after a very se- 
vere fight. The boar belonged to a giant, who 
had kept him fifteen years to slay Christian 
men (Thornton, st. 42, Percy, 40). This giant 
had demanded the king of Sydon 's daughter's 
hand, and comes to carry her off, by force, if 
necessary, the day following the boar-fight. 
Eglamour, who had been found by the king 
in the forest, in a state of exhaustion, after a 
contest which had lasted to the third or fourth 
day, and had been taken home by him and 
kindly cared for, is now ready for action again. 
He goes to the castle walls with a squire, 
who carries the boar's head on a spear. The 
giant, seeing the head, exclaims, 

* Alas, art thou dead ! 

My trust was all in thee ! 
Now by the law that I Heve in, 
My little speckled hoglin, 

Dear bought shall thy death be.' 

Percy, st. 44. 

Eglamour kills the giant, and returns to Ar- 
tois with both heads. The earl has another 
adventure ready for him, and hopes the third 
chance may quit all. Eglamour asks for twelve 
weeks to rest his weary body. 

B comes nearest the romance, and possibly 


even the wood of Tore is a reminiscence of Ar- 
tois. The colloquy with the giant in B is also, 
perhaps, suggested by one which had previous- 
ly taken place between Eglamour and another 
giant, brother of this, after the knight had 
killed one of his harts (Percy, st. 25). C 11, 
D 9 strikingly resemble the passage of the ro- 
mance cited above (Percy, 44, Thornton, 47). 

The ballad has also taken up something 
from the romance of ' Eger and Grime,' Percy 
MS., Hales and Furnivall, i, 341 ; Laing, Early 
Metrical Tales, p. 1 ; ' Sir Eger, Sir Grahame, 
and Sir Gray-Steel,' Ellis's Specimens, p. 546. 
Sir Egrabell (Rackabello, Isaac-a-Bell), Lio- 
nel's father, recalls Sir Eger, and Hugh the 
Graeme in B is of course the Grahame or 
Grime of the romance, the Hugh being de- 
rived from a later ballad. Gray-Steel, a man 
of proof, although not quite a giant, cuts off 
the little finger of Eger's right hand, as the 
giant proposes to do to Lionel in A 21. 

The friar in B 1^, 4^, may be a corruption 
of Ryalas, or some like name, as the first line 
of the burden of E, 'Wind well. Lion., good 
hunter,' seems to be a perversion of ' Wind 
well thy Jiorn^ good hunter,' in C, D.* This 
part of the burden, especially as it occurs in 
A, is found, nearly, in a fragment of a song 
of the time of Henry VHI, given by Mr 
Chappell in his Popular Music of the Olden 
Time, i, 58, as copied from " MSS Reg., Ap- 
pend. 58." 

* Blow thy home, hunter, 

Cum, blow thy home on hye ! 

In yonder wode there lyeth a doo, 
In fayth she woll not dye. 

Cum, blow thy home, hunter, 

Cum, blow thy home, joly hunter ! ' 

A terrible swine is a somewhat favorite fig- 
ure in romantic tales. A worthy peer of the 
boar of Sydon is killed by King Arthur in 

* The Avowynge of King Arthur,' etc., Rob- 
son, Three Early English Metrical Romances 
(see st. xii). But both of these, and even the 
Erymanthian, must lower their bristles before 

* * The friar might also be borrowed from ' The Felon Sow 
and the Friars of Richmond,' but this piece does not appear 
to have been extensively known. 



the boar in *Kilhwch and Olwen,' Mabino- 
gion, Part iv, pp. 309-16. Compared with 
any of these, the " felon sow " presented by 
Ralph Rokeby to the friars of Richmond 
(Evans, Old Ballads, n, 270, ed. 1810, Scott, 
Appendix to Rokeby, note M) is a tame vil- 
latic pig : the old mettle is bred out. 

Professor Grundtvig has communicated to 
me a curious Danish ballad of this class, ' Lim- 
grises Vise,' from a manuscript of the latter 
part of the 16th century. A very intractable 
damsel, after rejecting a multitude of aspi- 
rants, at last marries, with the boast that her 
progeny shall be fairer than Christ in heaven. 
She has a litter of nine pups, a pig, and a boy. 
The pig grows to be a monster, and a scourge 
to the whole region. 

He drank up the water from dike and from dam, 
And ate up, besides, both goose, gi"is and lamb. 

The beast is at last disposed of by baiting 
him with the nine congenerate dogs, who 
jump down his throat, rend liver and lights, 
and find their death there, too. This ballad 
smacks of the broadside, and is assigned to 
the 16th century. A fragment of a Swedish 
swine-ballad, in the popular tone, is given by 
Dybeck, Runa, 1845, p. 23 ; another, very sim- 
ilar, in Axelson's Vesterdalarne, p. 179, ' Kol- 
oregris,' and Professor Sophus Bugge has re- 
covered some Norwegian verses. The Danish 
story of the monstrous birth of the pig has 
become localized : the Liimfiord is related to 
have been made by the grubbing of the Lim- 
gris : Thiele, Danmarks Folkesagn, n. 19, two 

There can hardly be anything but the name 
in common between the Lionel of this ballad 
and Lancelot's cousin-german. 

Percy MS., p. 32, Hales and Fumivall, i, 75, 

1 Sib Egrabell had sonnes three, 

Blow thy home, good hunter 
Sir Lyonell was one of these. 
As I am a gentle hunter 

2 Sir Lyonell wold on hunting ryde, 
Vntill the forrest him beside. 

3 And as he rode thorrow the wood, 
Where trees and harts and all were good, 

4 And as he rode over the plaine. 
There he saw a knight lay slaine. 

5 And as he rode still on the plaine, 
He saw a lady sitt in a graine. 

6 * Say thou, lady, and tell thou me, 
What blood shedd heere has bee.' 

7 * Of this blood shedd we may all rew. 
Both wife and chUde and man alsoe. 

8 ' For it is not past 3 days right 
Since Str Broninge was mad a kniffht. 

9 ' Nor it is not more than 3 dayes agoe 
Since the wild bore did him sloe.' 

10 ' Say thou, lady, and tell thou mee. 
How long thou wilt sitt in that tree.' 

11 She said, ' I will sitt in this tree 
Till my friends doe feitch me.' 

12 ' Tell me, lady, and doe not misse. 
Where that yowr friends dwellings is.' 

13 ' Downe,' shee said, ' in yonder towne. 
There dwells my freinds of great renowne.' 

14 Says, * Lady, lie ryde into yonder towne 
And see wether jout friends beene bowne. 

15 ' I my self wilbe the f ormost man 

That shall come, lady, to feitch you home.' 

16 But as he rode then by the way. 
He thought it shame to goe away ; 

17 And vmbethought him of a wile, 
How he might that wilde bore beguile. 

18 * Sir Egrabell,' he said, ' my father was ; 
He neuer left lady in such a case ; 



19 ' Noe more will I ' . . . 


20 ' And a[fter] that thou shalt doe mee 
Thy hawkes and thy lease alsoe. 

21 ' Soe shalt thou doe at my command 
The litle fingar on thy right hand.' 

22 ' Ere I wold leaue aU this with thee, 
Vpoon this ground I rather dyee.' 

23 The gyant gaue Sir LyoneZl such a blow, 
The fyer out of his eyen did throw. 

24 He said then, ' if I were saffe and sound. 
As w*th-in this hower I was in this ground, 

25 ' It shold be in the next towne told 
How dearethy buffiett it was sold; 

26 ' And it shold haue beene in the next towne 

How well thy buffett it were paid.' 

27 ' Take 40 daies into spite, 

To heale thy wounds that beene soe wide. 

28 ' When 40 dayes beene at an end, 
Heere meete thou me both safe and sound. 

30 When 40 dayes was at an end. 

Sir Lyonefl. of his wounds was healed sound. 

31 He tooke with him a litle page, 

He gaue to him good yeomans wage. 

32 And as he rode by one hawthorne, 
Even there did hang his hunting home. 

33 He sett his bugle to his mouth. 
And blew his bugle stiU full south. 

34 He blew his bugle lowde and shrill ; 
The lady heard, and came him till. 

35 Sayes, ' the gyant lyes vnder yond low, 
And well he heares your bugle blow. 

36 * And bidds me of good cheere be. 
This night heele supp with you and me.' 

37 Hee sett that lady vppon a steede. 
And a litle boy before her yeede. 

38 And said, ' lady, if you see that I must dye, 
As euer you loued me, from me flye. 

39 * But, lady, if you see that I must liue,' 

f * -» * * 

29 ' And tiU thou come to me againe, 
With me thoust leaue thy lady alone.' 


Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, i, 110. From the sing- 
ing of an old woman in Buckie, Enzie, Banffshire. 

1 A KNiCHT had two sons o sma fame, 

Hey nien nanny 
Isaac-a-Bell and Hugh the Graeme. 
And the norlan flowers spring bonny 

2 And to the youngest he did say, 
* What occupation will you hae ? 

When the, etc. 

4 ' I winna fee to pick a mill, 
Nor will I keep hogs on yon hill. 

While the, etc. 

5 * But it is said, as I do hear. 
That war will last for seven year, 

And the, etc. 

6 ' With a giant and a boar 

That range into the wood o Tore. 
And the, etc. 

3 ' Will you gae fee to pick a mUl ? 
Or will you keep hogs on yon hiU ? ' 
While the, etc. 

7 ' You '11 horse and armour to me provide, 
That through Tore wood I may safely ride.' 
When the, etc. 



8 The knicht did horse and armour provide, 
That through Tore wood Graeme micht safely 

When the, etc. 

9 Then he rode through the wood o Tore, 
And up it started the grisly hoar. 

When the, etc. 

10 The firsten bout that he did ride. 
The boar he wounded in the left side. 

When the, etc. 

11 The nexten bout at the boar he gaed, 
He from the boar took aff his head. 

And the, etc. 

12 As he rode back through the wood o Tore, 
Up started the giant him before. 

And the, etc. 

13 * cam you through the wood o Tore, 
Or did you see my good wild boar ? ' 

And the, etc. 

14 ' I cam now through the wood o Tore, 
But woe be to your grisly boar. 

And the, etc. 

15 ' The firsten bout that I did ride, 

I wounded your wild boar in the side. 
And the, etc. 

16 ' The nexten bout at him I gaed. 

From your wild boar I took aff his head.' 
And the, etc. 

17 * Gin you have cut afE the head o my boar, 
It 's your head shall be taen therfore. 

And the, etc. 

18 ' I 'U gie you thirty days and three. 

To heal your wounds, then come to me.' 
While the, etc. 

19 ' It 's after thirty days and three. 
When my wounds heal, I'll come to thee.' 

When the, etc. 

20 So Graeme is back to the wood o Tore, 

And he 's killd the giant, as he killd the 
And the, etc. 

a. Allies, The British, Roman, and Saxon Antiquities 
and Folk-Lore of Worcestershire, 2d ed., p. 116. From the 
recitation of Benjamin Brown, of Upper Wick, about 1845. 
b. Ancient Poems, Ballads and Songs of the Peasantry of 
England, edited by Robert Bell, p. 124. 

1 Sib Robert Bolton had three sons. 

Wind well thy horn, good hunter 
And one of them was called Sir Ryalas. 
For he was a jovial hunter 

2 He rang'd all round down by the woodside. 
Till up in the top of a tree a gay lady he 

For he was, etc. 

3 ' O what dost thou mean, fair lady ? ' said he ; 

' O the wild boar has killed my lord and his 
men thirty.' 
As thou beest, etc. 

4 ' what shall I do this wild boar to see ? ' 
'0 thee blow a blast, and he'U come unto 
As thou beest, etc. 

6 [Then he put his horn imto his mouth]. 

Then he blowd a blast full north, east, west 
and south. 
As he was, etc. 

6 And the wild boar heard him full into his 

Then he made the best of his speed unto 
To Sir Ryalas, etc. 

7 Then the wild boar, being so stout and so 

He thrashd down the trees as he came along. 
To Sir Ryalas, etc. 



8 ' what dost thou want of me ? ' the wild boar 

said he ; ' 
' O I think in my heart I can do enough for 
For I am, etc. 

9 Then they fought four hours in a long sum- 

mer's day, 
Till the wild boar fain would have gotten away. 
From Sir Ryalas, etc. 

10 Then Sir Ryalas drawd his broad sword with 

And he fairly cut his head off quite. 
For he was, etc. 

11 Then out of the wood the wild woman 

flew : 
* Oh thou hast kiUed my pretty spotted 

pig' . 
As thou beest, etc. 

12 * There are three things I do demand of thee. 
It 's thy horn, and thy hound, and thy gay 

As thou beest, etc. 

13 ' If these three things thou dost demand of me, 
It 's just as my sword and thy neck can agree.' 

For I am, etc. 

14 Then into his locks the wild woman flew, 

TiU she thought in her heart she had torn him 
As he was, etc. 

15 Then Sir Ryalas drawd his broad sword again, 
And he fairly split her head in twain. 

For he was, etc. 

16 In Bromsgrove church they both do lie ; 
There the wild boar's head is picturd by 

Sir Ryalas, etc. 

Allies, Antiquities and Folk-Lore of "Worcestershire, p. 
118. From the recitation of Oseman, Hartlebury. 

6 He whetted his tusks for to make them strong. 
And he cut down the oak and the ash as he 
came along. 
For to meet with, etc. 

1 As I went up one brook, one brook. 

Well wind the horn, good hunter 
I saw a fair maiden sit on a tree top. 
As thou art the jovial himter 

2 I said, ' Fair maiden, what brings you here ? ' 
' It is the wild boar that has drove me here.' 

As thou art, etc. 

3 ' I wish I could that wild boar see ; ' 

Well wind the horn, good hunter. 
And the wild boar soon will come to thee.'* 
As thou art, etc. 

7 They fought five hours one long summer's day, 
Till the wild boar he yelld, and he 'd fain run 

And away from, etc. 

8 then he cut his head clean off, 

9 Then there came an old lady running out of 
the wood. 
Saying, ' You have killed my pretty, my pretty 
spotted pig.' 
As thou art, etc. 

4 Then he put his horn unto his mouth. 

And he blowd both east, west, north and 
As he was, etc. 

10 Then at him this old lady she did go. 

And he clove her from the top of her head to 
her toe. 
As he was, etc. 

5 The wild boar hearing it into his den, 

[Then he made the best of his speed unto 

11 In Bromsgrove churchyard this old lady lies. 
And the face of the boar's head there is drawn 


That was killed by, etc. 




a. Ancient Poems, Ballads and Songs of the Peasantry 
of England, edited by Robert Bell, p. 250. b. Mr Robert 
White's papers. 

1 Thsre was an old man and sons he had three ; 

"Wind well, Lion, good hunter 
A friar he being one of the three, 
With pleasure he ranged the north country. 

For he was a jovial hunter 

2 As he went to the woods some pastime to see, 
He spied a fair lady under a tree, 

Sighing and moaning mournfully. 
He was, etc. 

3 * What are you doing, my fair lady ? ' 

* I 'm frightened the wild boar he will kill me ; 
He has worried my lord and wounded thirty.' 
As thou art, etc. 

4 Then the friar he put his horn to his mouth. 
And he blew a blast, east, west, north and 

And the wild boar from his den he came forth. 
Unto the, etc. 

Allies, Antiquities of Worcestershire, p. 120. 

1 Snt Rackabello had three sons, 

Wind well your horn, brave hunter 

Sir Ryalash was one of these. 
And he was a jovial hunter 





MS. And as the. 


MS. had bee. 


MS. I wilt. 


MS. miste. 


MS. awaw. 


MS. vnbethought 

. . 

. while. 


Between 19 and 


half a 




MS. is wanting. 


affter] : MS. blotted. 

36^. MS. bidd» eue. 

39. Half a page of the MS. is wanting. 
The stanzas are dauhled in Christie, to suit the 

a. 3S 42, V. D. 2S 32, 6. John Cole, who had 
heard an old man sing the ballad fifty years 
before (Allies, p. 115), coidd recollect only so 

*0h! lady. Oh! lady, what bringst thou 
here ? ' 
Wind went his horn, as a hunter 
* Thee blow another blast, and he '11 soon 
come to thee.' 
As thou art a jovial hunter 

He whetted his tusks as he came along, 
Wind went his horn, as a hunter 

a 5, 6 stand thus in Allies : 

V Then he blowd a blast fuU north, east, 
west and south, 
For he was, etc. 
And the wild boar heard him full into his 
As he was, etc. 

VI Then he made the best of his speed unto 
(Two lines wrongly supplied from another 
To Sir Ryalas, etc. 

5 has been completed from the corresponding 
stanza in D, and the two verses of 6, sep- 
arated above, are put together. 
b. 1\ Old Sir Robert. 1\ was Sir Ryalas. 
2^. Till in a tree-top. 
31. dost thee. 3^^. The wild boar 's killed my 

lord and has thirty men gored. 
Burden^. And thou beest. 
41. for to see. 
51. As in Allies (see above), except full in 

his den. 
5\ then heard him full in his den. 



6^. As in Allies (see above), but G'^ supplied 

by Bell. 
7^. Thrashed down the trees as he ramped 
^ him along. 

8^. 'Oh, what dost thee want of me, wild 

Burden^, the jovial. 
9^. summer. 9^. have got him. 
lO'^. cut the boar's head off quite. 
11^. Oh, my pretty spotted pig thou hast slew. 

Burden^, for thou beest. 
12^. I demand them of thee. 
13^. dost ask. 
14^. long locks. 14''. to tear him through. 

Burden^. Though he was. 
15^^. into twain. 

16\ the knight he doth lie. 16^. And the 
wild boar's head is pictured thereby. 
D. 5, 6. In Allies thus : 

Y The wild boar hearing it into his den, 
Well wind, etc. 
He whetted his tusks, for to make them 

And he cut down the oak and the ash as he 
came along. 
For to meet with, etc. 

Stanza 5 has been completed from stanza vi 
of Allies' other ballad, and 6 duly sepa- 
rated from the first line of 5. 

8^, 9. In Allies' copy thus : 

vn Oh ! then he cut his head clean off ! 
Well wind, etc. 
Then there came an old lady running out 

of the wood 
Saying, ' You have killed my pretty, my 
pretty spotted pig.' 
As thou art, etc. 

What stanza 8 should be is easily seen from 

C 16, D 11. As imperfectly remembered by 

Allies (p. 114) : 

In Bromsgrove church his corpse doth lie, 
Why winded his horn the hunter ? 

Because there was a wild boar nigh, 
And as he was a jovial hunter. 

E. b. " Fragment found on the fly-leaf of an old 
book." Mr B. White's papers. 
1^. one of these three. 1*. wide countrie. 

Burden^. He was. 
2^. was in woods. 2*. With a bloody river 

running near she. 
3^. He said, ' Fair lady what are you doing 

there ? ' 3^. killed my lord. 
4. wanting. 



The Leisure Hour, February 14, 1880, No 1468 : Folk-Lore from Unst, Shetland, by Mrs Saxby, p. 109. 

Mr Edmondston, from whose memory this 
ballad was derived, notes that though stanzas 
are probably lost after the first which would 
give some account of the king in the east 
wooing the lady in the west, no such verses 
were sung to him. He had forgotten some 
stanzas after the fourth, of which the sub- 
stance was that the lady was carried off by 

fairies ; that the king went in quest of her, and 
one day saw a company passing along a hill- 
side, among whom he recognized his lost wife. 
The troop went to what seemed a great " ha- 
house," or castle, on the hillside. Stanzas after 
the eighth were also forgotten, the purport 
being that a messenger from behind the grey 
stane appeared and invited the king in. 



We have here in traditional song the story 
of the justly admired mediasval romance of 
Orpheus, in which fairy-land supplants Tar- 
tarus, faithful- love is rewarded, and Eury- 
dice (Heurodis, Erodys, Eroudys) is retrieved. 
This tale has come down to us in three ver- 
sions : A, in the Auchinleck MS., dating from 
the beginning of the fourteenth century, Ad- 
vocates Library, Edinburgh, printed in Laing's 
Select Remains of the Ancient Popular Poe- 
try of Scotland, ' Orfeo and Heurodis,' No 3 ; 
B, Ashmole MS., 61, Bodleian Library, of the 
first half of the fifteenth century, printed in 
Halliwell's Illustrations of Fairy Mythology, 
' Kyng Orfew,' p. 37 ; C, Harleian MS., 3810, 
British Museum, printed by Ritson, Metrical 
Romancees, li, 248, ' Sir Orpheo.' At the end 
of the Auchinleck copy we are told that harp- 
ers in Britain heard this marvel, and made a 
lay thereof, which they called, after the king, 
' Lay Orfeo.' The other two copies also, but 
in verses which are a repetition of the intro- 
duction to ' Lay le Freine,' call this a Breton 

The story is this (A). Orfeo was a king 
[and so good a harper never none was, BJ. 
One day in May his queen went out to a 
garden with two maidens, and fell asleep un- 
der an " ympe " tree. When she waked she 
shrieked, tore her clothes, and acted very 
wildly. Her maidens ran to the palace and 
called for help, for the queen would go mad. 
Knights and ladies went to the queen, took 
her away, and put her to bed ; but still the 
excitement continued. The king, in great 
affliction, besought her to tell him what was 
the matter, and what he could do. Alas ! she 
said, I have loved thee as my life, and thou 
me, but now we must part. As she slept 
knights had come to her and had bidden her 
come speak with their king. Upon her re- 
fusal, the king himself came, with a company 
of knights and damsels, all on snow-white 
steeds, and made her ride on a palfrey by his 
side, and, after he had shown her his palace, 
brought her back and said : Look thou be 
under this ympe tree tomorrow, to go with us ; 
and if thou makest us any let, we will take 
thee by force, wherever thou be. The next 

day Orfeo took the queen to the tree under 
guard of a thousand knights, all resolved to 
die before they would give her up : but she was 
spirited away right from the midst of them, 
no one knew whither. 

The king all but died of grief, but it was* 
no boot. He gave his kingdom in charge to 
his high steward, told his barons to choose a 
new king when they should learn that he was 
dead, put on a sclavin and nothing else, took 
his harp, and went barefoot out at the gate. 
Ten years he lived in the woods and on the 
heath ; his body wasted away, his beard grew 
to his girdle. His only solace was in his harp, 
and, when the weather was bright, he would 
play, and all the beasts and birds would flock 
to him. Often at hot noon-day he would see 
the king of fairy hunting with his rout, or 
an armed host would go by him with banners 
displayed, or knights and ladies would come 
dancing ; but whither they went he could not 
tell. One day he descried sixty ladies who 
were hawking. He went towards them and 
saw that one of them was Heurodis. He looked 
at her wistfully, and she at him ; neither spoke 
a word, but tears fell from her eyes, and the 
ladies hurried her away. He followed, and 
spared neither stub nor stem. They went in 
at a rock, and he after. They alighted at a 
superb castle ; he knocked at the gate, told 
the porter he was a minstrel, and was let in. 
There he saw Heurodis, sleeping under an 
ympe tree. 

Orfeo went into the hall, and saw a king 
and queen, sitting in a tabernacle. He kneeled 
down before the king. What man art thou ? 
said the king. I never sent for thee, and never 
found I man so bold as to come here unbidden. 
Lord, quoth Orfeo, I am but a poor minstrel, 
and it is a way of ours to seek many a lord's 
house, though we be not welcome. Without 
more words he took his harp and began to 
play. All the palace came to listen, and lay 
down at his feet. The king sat still and was 
glad to hear, and, when the harping was done, 
said. Minstrel, ask of me whatever it be ; I will 
pay thee largely. " Sir," said Orfeo, " I be- 
seech thee give me the lady that sleepeth un- 
der the ympe tree." " Nay," quoth the king, 



" ye were a sorry couple ; for thou art lean and 
rough and black, and she is lovely and has no 
lack. A lothly thing were it to see her in thy 
company." " Gentle king," replied the harper, 
it were a fouler. thing to hear a lie from thy 
mouth." " Take her, then, and be blithe of 
her," said the king. 

Orfeo now turned homewards, but first pre- 
sented himself to the steward alone, and in 
beggar's clothes, as a harper from heathen- 
dom, to see if he were a true man. The loyal 
steward was ready to welcome every good 
harper for love of his lord. King Orfeo made 
himself known ; the steward threw over the 
table, and fell down at his feet, and so did all 

the lords. They brought the queen to the 
town. Orfeo and Heurodis were crowned 
anew, and lived long afterward. 

The Scandinavian burden was, perhaps, no 
more intelligible to the singer than " Hey non 
nonny " is to us. The first line seems to be 
Unst for Danish 

Skoven arle gron (Early green 's the wood). 

The sense of the other line is not so obvious. 
Professor Grundtvig has suggested to me, 

Hvor hjorteu han gar arlig (Where the hart goes 

The Leisure Hour, February 14, 1880, No 1468, p. 109. 
Obtained from the singing of Andrew Coutts, an old man in 
Unst, Shetland, by Mr Biot Edmondston. 

1 Der lived a king inta da aste, 

Scowan iiria griin 
Der lived a lady in da wast. 
Whar giorten han griin oarlac 

2 Dis king he has a huntin gaen, 
He 's left his Lady Isabel alane. 

3 ' Oh I wis ye 'd never gaen away, 
For at your hame is dol an wae. 

4 ' For da king o Ferrie we his daert, 
Has pierced your lady to da hert.' 

# * * * # 

6 And aifter dem da king has gaen, 
But whan he cam it was a grey stane. 

6 Dan he took oot his pipes ta play, 
Bit sair his hert wi dol an wae. 

7 And first he played da notes o noy, 
An dan he played da notes o joy. 

8 An dan he played da god gabber reel, 
Dat meicht ha made a sick hert hale. 


# « # # * 

9 ' Noo come ye in inta wir ha, 
An come ye in among wis a'.' 

10 Now he 's gaen in inta der ha, 
An he 's gaen in among dem a'. 

11 Dan he took out his pipes to play, 
Bit sair his hert wi dol an wae. 

12 An first he played da notes o noy, 
An dan he played da notes o joy. 

13 An dan he played da god gabber reel, 
Dat meicht ha made a sick hert hale. 

14 ' Noo tell to us what ye will hae : 
What saU we gie you for your play ? 

15 ' What I will hae I will you tell, 
An dat 's me Lady Isabel.' 

16 ' Yees tak your lady, an yees gaeng hame, 
An yees be king ower a' your ain.' 

17 He 's taen his lady, an he 's gaen hame, 
An noo he 's king ower a' his ain. 

T^Q u. i.^. '^-J ~-f, sL4(>^ rA 

/ J, SLckL^ ^f/", Zip. If, '?*7. ^V^z^ 




A. Herd's MSS, I, 132, ir, 191. Herd's Ancient and 
Modern Scottish Songs, 1776, ii, 237. 

B. a. ' Fine Flowers in the Valley,* Johnson's Mu- 
seum, p. 331. b. Scott's Minstrelsy, iii, 259 (1803). 

C. ' The Cruel Mother,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 

D. a. Kinloch MSS, v, 103. b. 'The Cruel Mother,' 
Kinloch, Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 46. 

E. ' The Cruel Mother.' a. Motherwell's MS., p. 390. 
b. Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 33. 

r. ' The Cruel Mother.' a. Buchan's MSS, ii, 98. 
b. Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, ii, 222. 

G. Notes and Queries, 1st S., vm, 358. 

H. 'The Cruel Mother,' Motherwell's MS., p. 402. 

I. « The Minister's Daughter of New York.' a. Bu- 
chan's MSS, II, 111. b. Buchan's Ballads of the 
North of Scotland, ii, 217. c. ' Hey wi the rose and 
the lindie O,' Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, i, 

J. a. ' The Rose o Malindie O,' Harris MS., f. 10. b. 
Fragment communicated by Dr T. Davidson. 

K. Motherwell's MS., p. 186. 

L. ' Fine Flowers in the Valley,' Smith's Scottish Min- 
strel, IV, 33. 

M. From Miss M. Reburn, as learned in County Meath, 
Ireland, one stanza. 

Two fragments of this ballad, A, B, were 
printed in the last quarter of the eighteenth 
century ; C-L were committed to writing after 
1800 ; and, of these, E, H, J, K are now printed 
for the first time. 

A-H differ only slightly, but several of these 
versions are very imperfect. A young woman, 
who passes for a leal maiden, gives birth to 
two babes [A, B, one, H, three], puts them 
to death with a penknife, B-P, and buries 
them, or, H, ties them hand and feet and 
buries them alive. She afterwards sees two 
pretty boys, and exclaims that if they were 
hers she would treat them most tenderly. 
They make answer that when they were hers 
they were very differently treated, rehearse 
what she had done, and inform or threaten 
her that hell shall be her portion, C, D, E, 
F, H. In I the children are buried alive, as 

• All the genuine ones. ' Lady Anne,' in Scott's Min- 
strelsy, III, 259, 1803, is on the face of it a modern composi- 
tion, with extensive variations, on the theme of the popular 

in H, in J a strangled, in J b and L killed 
with the penknife, but the story is the same 
down to the termination, where, instead of 
simple hell-fire, there are various seven-year 
penances, properly belonging to the ballad of 
' The Maid and the Palmer,' which follows this. 

All the English ballads are in two-line 

Until 1870 no corresponding ballad had 
been found in Denmark, though none was 
more likely to occur in Danish. That year 
Kristensen, in the course of his very remarka- 
ble ballad-quest in Jutland, recovered two ver- 
sions which approach surprisingly near to 
Scottish tradition, and especially to E : Jydske 
Folkeviser, I, 329, No 121 A, B, ' Barnemor- 
dersken.' Two other Danish versions have 
been obtained since then, but have not been 
published. A and B are much the same, and 

ballad. It is here given in an Appendix, with a companion 
piece from Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway 



a close translation of A will not take much 
more space than would be required for a suflB- 
cient abstract. 

Little Kirsten took with her the hower-women five, 
And with them she went to the wood belive. 

She spread her cloak down on the earth, 
And on it to two little twins gave birth. 

She laid them under a turf so green, 
Nor suffered for them a sorrow unseen. 

She laid them under so broad a stone, 

Suffered sorrow nor harm for what she had done. 

Eight years it was, and the children twain 
Woidd fain go home to their mother again. 

They went and before Our Lord they stood : 

* Might we go home to our mother, we would.' 

' Ye may go to your mother, if ye will. 
But ye may not contrive any ill.' 

They knocked at the door, they made no din : 

* Rise up, our mother, and let us in.' 

By life and by death hath she cursed and sworn. 
That never a child in the world had she borne. 

* Stop, stop, dear mother, and swear not so fast, 
We shall recount to you what has passed. 

' You took with you the bower-women five, 
And with them went to the wood behve. 

' You spread your cloak down on the earth, 
And on it to two Uttle twins gave birth. 

' You laid us under a turf so green. 
Nor suffered for us a sorrow unseen. 

' You laid us under so broad a stone. 

Suffered sorrow nor harm for what you had done.' 

' Nay my dear bairns, but stay with me ; 
And four barrels of gold shall be your fee.' 

' You may give us four, or five, if you choose, 
But not for all that, heaven will we lose. 

' You may give us eight, you may give us nine, 
But not for all these, heaven will we tine. 

' Our seat is made ready in heavenly light, 
But for you a seat in heU is dight.' 

A ballad is spread all over Germany which 
is probably a variation of ' The Cruel Mother,' 
though the resemblance is rather in the gen- 
eral character than in the details. A, ' Hol- 
lisches Recht,' Wunderhorn, ii, 202, ed. of 
1808, II, 205, ed. 1857. Mittler, No 489, p. 
383, seems to be this regulated and filled out. 
B, Erlach, ' Die Rabenmutter,' iv, 148 ; re- 
peated, with the addition of one stanza, by 
Zuccalmaglio, p. 203, No 97. C, ' Die Kinds- 
morderinn,' Meinert, p. 164, from the Kuh- 
landchen ; turned into current German, Erk's 
Liederhort, p. 144, No 41*=. D, Simrock, p. 
87, No 37% from the Aargau. E, ' Das falsche 
Mutterherz,' Erk u. Irmer, Heft 5, No 7, and 
' Die Kindesmorderin,' Erk's Liederhort, p. 
140, No 41, Brandenburg. F, Liederhort, p. 
142, No 41% Silesia. G, Liederhort, p. 143, 
41% from the Rhein, very near to B. H, Hoff- 
mann u. Richter, No 31, p. 54, and I, No 32, 
p. 57, Silesia. J, Ditfurth, Frankische V. 1., 
II, 12, No 13. K, ' Die Rabenmutter,' Peter, 
Volksthiimliches aus Osterreichisch-Schlesien, 
I, 210, No 21. L, ' Der Teufel u. die Miil- 
lerstochter,' Prohle, Weltliche u. geistliche V. 
1., p. 15, No 9, Hanoverian Harz. Repeti- 
tions and compounded copies are not noticed. 

The story is nearly this in all. A herds- 
man, passing through a wood, hears the cry 
of a child, but cannot make out whence the 
sound comes. The child announces that it is 
hidden in a hollow tree, and asks to be taken 
to the house where its mother is to be married 
that day. There arrived, the child proclaims 
before all the company that the bride is its 
mother. The bride, or some one of the party, 
calls attention to the fact that she is still wear- 
ing her maiden- wreath. Nevertheless, says 
the child, she has had three children : one she 
drowned, one she buried in a dung-heap [the 
sand], and one she hid in a hollow tree. The 
bride wishes that the devil may come for her 



if this is true, and, upon the word, Satan ap- 
pears and takes her off ; in B, G, J, with words 
like these : 

' Komm her, komm her, meine schonste Braut, 
Dein Sessel ist dir in der Holle gebaut.' J 9. 

A Wendish version, ' Der Hollentanz,' in 
Haupt and Schmaler, i, 290, No 292, differs 
from the German ballads only in this, that the 

bride has already borne nine children, and is 
going with the tenth. 

A combination of B, C, D, P is translated 
by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, 
No 43, p. 279, and I, from the eighth stanza 
on, p. 282. C is translated by Wolff, Halle 
der Volker, i, 11, and Hauschatz, p. 223 ; Al- 
lingham's version (nearly B a) by Knortz, L. 
u. R. Alt-Englands, p. 178, No 48. 

Herd's MSS.'i, 132, ii, 191 : Ancient and Modem Scot- 
tish Songs, 1776, II, 237. 

And there she 's leand her back to a thorn, 
Oh and alelladay, oh and alelladay 

And there she has her baby born. 

Ten thousand times good night and he wi 

2 She has houked a grave ayont the sun, 
And there she has buried the sweet babe in. 

3 And she 's gane back to her father's ha, 
She 's counted the leelest maid o them a'. 

4 ' O look not sae sweet, my bonie babe. 
Gin ye smyle sae, ye '11 smyle me dead.' 

B £ n 

a. Johnson's Museum, p. 331. b. Scott's Minstrelsy, 
1803, III, 259, preface. 

1 She sat down below a thorn. 

Fine flowers in the valley 
And there she has her sweet babe born. 
And the green leaves they grow rarely 

2 * Smile na sae sweet, my bonie babe. 

And ye smile sae sweet, ye 'U smile me dead.' 

3 She 's taen out her little pen-knife. 
And twinnd the sweet babe o its life. 

4 She 's howket a grave by the light o the 

And there she 's buried her sweet babe in. 

5 As she was going to the church, 
She saw a sweet babe in the porch. 

6 * sweet babe, and thou were mine, 
I wad deed thee in the silk so fine.' 

7 ' mother dear, when I was thine. 
You did na prove to me sae kind.' 

O 1.1^ 
Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 161. 

Shk leaned her back unto a thorn. 
Three, three, and three by three 

And there she has her two babes born. 
Three, three, and thirty-three 

2 She took frae 'bout her ribbon-belt. 

And there she bound them hand and foot. 

3 She has taen out her wee pen-knife. 
And there she ended baith their life. 

4 She has howked a hole baith deep and wide, 
She has put them in baith side by side. 



5 She has covered them oer wi a marble stane, 
Thinking she would gang maiden hame. 

6 As she was walking by her father's castle wa, 
She saw twa pretty babes playing at the ba. 

7 ' O bonnie babes, gin ye were mine, 
I would dress you up in satin fine. 

8 ' I would dress you in the silk, 
And wash you ay in morning milk.' 

9 ' cniel mother, we were thine, 
And thou made us to wear the twine. 

10 ' O cursed mother, heaven 's high, 

And that 's where thou wiU neer win nigh. 

11 ' O cursed mother, hell is deep, 

And there thou '11 enter step by step.' 

D cn 

a. Kinloch's MSS, v, 103, in the handwriting of James 
Beattie. b. Kiuloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 46 : from 
the recitation of Miss C. Beattie. 

1 There lives a lady in London, 

All alone and alone ee 
She 's gane wi bairn to the clerk's son. 
Down by the green wood sae bonnie 

2 She 's taen her mantle her about. 

She 's gane aff to the gude green wood. 

3 She 's set her back untUl an oak. 
First it bowed and then it broke. 

4 She 's set her back untill a tree. 
Bonny were the twa boys she did bear. 

5 But she took out a little pen-knife. 

And she parted them and their sweet life. 

6 She 's aff untill her father's ha ; 

She was the lealest maiden that was amang 
them a'. 

7 As she lookit oure the castle wa, 

She spied twa bonnie boys playing at the ba. 

8 ' O if these two babes were mine, 

They should wear the silk and the sabel- 

9 ' O mother dear, when we were thine, 

"We neither wore the silks nor the sabel- 

10 ' But out ye took a little pen-knife, 
And ye parted us and our sweet life. 

11 * But now we 're in the heavens hie. 
And ye 've the pains o hell to drie.' 

a. Motherwell's MS., p. 390. b. Motherwell's Note- 
Book, p. 33. From the recitation of Agnes Lyle, Kilbar- 
chan, August 24, 1825. 

1 There was a lady, she lived in Lurk, 

Sing hey alone and alonie 
She fell in love with her father's clerk. 
Down by yon greenwood sidie O 

2 She loved him seven years and a day, 
TlU her big belly did her betray. 

3 She leaned her back unto a tree. 
And there began her sad misery. 

4 She set her foot unto a thorn. 

And there she got her two babes bom. 

6 She took out her wee pen-knife, 

She twind them both of their sweet life. 

6 She took the sattins was on her head, 

She rolled them in both when they were 

7 She howkit a grave forenent the sun. 
And there she buried her twa babes in. 

8 As she was walking thro her father's ha, 
She spied twa boys playing at the ba. 



9 * pretty boys, if ye were mine, 

I would dress ye both in the silks so fine.* 

10 ' O mother dear, when we were thine, 
Thou neer dressed us in silks so fine. 

11 ' For thou was a lady, thou livd in Lurk, 
And thou fell in love with thy father's clerk. 

12 ' Thou loved him seven years and a day, 
Till thy big belly did thee betray. 

13 * Thou leaned thy back unto a tree, 
And there began thy sad misery. 

14 ' Thou set thy foot unto a thorn, 

And there thou got thy two babes born. 

15 * Thou took out thy wee pen-knife. 
And twind us both of our sweet life. 

16 * Thou took the sattins was on thy head, 
Thou rolled us both in when we were dead. 

17 * Thou howkit a grave forenent the sun. 
And there thou buried thy twa babes in. 

18 ' But now we 're both in [the] heavens hie, 
There is pardon for us, but none for thee.' 

19 ' My pretty boys, beg pardon for me ! ' 

' There is pardon for us, but none for thee.' 

/ka» ) I'rtrvf 


a. Buchan's MSS, ii, 98. b. Buchan's Ballads of the 
North of Scotland, ii, 222. 

1 It fell ance upon a day, 

Edinburgh, Edinburgh 
It fell ance upon a day, 

Stirling for aye 
It fell ance upon a day 
The clerk and lady went to play. 

So proper Saint Johnston stands fair upon 

2 ' If my baby be a son, 

I '11 make him a lord of high renown.' 

3 She 's leand her back to the wa, 
Prayd that her pains might fa. 

4 She 's leand her back to the thorn. 
There was her baby born. 

5 ' bonny baby, if ye suck sair. 
You '11 never suck by my side mair.' 

6 She 's riven the muslin frae her head. 
Tied the baby hand and feet. 

7 Out she took her little pen-knife, 
Twind the young thing o its sweet life. 

8 She 's howked a hole anent the meen. 
There laid her sweet baby in. 

9 She had her to her father's ha. 

She was the meekest maid amang them a'. 

10 It fell ance upon a day. 

She saw twa babies at their play. 

11 ' bonny babies, gin ye were mine, 
I 'd cleathe you in the silks sae fine.' 

12 * wild mother, when we were thine, 
You cleathd us not in silks so fine. 

13 ' But now we *re in the heavens high, 
And you've the pains o hell to try.' 

14 She threw hersell oer the castle-wa, 
There I wat she got a fa. 



Notes and Queries, 1st S., viii, 358. From Warwick- 
shire, communicated by C. Clifton Barry. 

1 There was a lady lived on [a] lea, 
All alone, alone O 
Down by the greenwood side went she. 
Down the greenwood side O 

2 She set her foot all on a thorn, 
There she had two babies born. 

3 O she had nothing to lap them in, 
But a white appurn, and that was thin. 

Motherwell's MS., p. 402. From Agnes Laird, Kilbar- 
chao, August 24, 1825. 

1 There was a lady brisk and smart, 

AU in a lone and a lonie O 
And she goes with child to her father's dark. 
Down by the greenwood sidie O 

2 Big, big oh she went away, 

And then she set her foot to a tree. 

3 Big she set her foot to a stone. 

Till her three bonnie babes were borne. 

4 She took the ribbons off her head. 
She tied the little babes hand and feet. 

6 She howkit a hole before the sun. 
She 's laid these three bonnie babes in. 

6 She covered them over with marble stone, 
For dukes and lords to walk upon. 

7 She lookit over her father's castle wa, 

She saw three bonnie boys playing at the ba. 

8 The first o them was clad in red, 

To shew the innocence of their blood. 

9 The neist o them was clad in green, 
To shew that death they had been in. 

10 The next was naked to the skin, 

To shew they were murderd when they were 

11 ' O bonnie babes, an ye were mine, 

I wad dress you in the satins so fine.' 

12 ' O mother dear, when we were thine, 
Thou did not use us half so kind.' 

13 ' O bonnie babes, an ye be mine, 
Whare hae ye been a' this time ? ' 

14 * "We were at our father's house. 
Preparing a place for thee and us.' 

15 * Whaten a place hae ye prepar'd for me ? ' 
* Heaven 's for us, but hell 's for thee. 

16 ' mother dear, but heaven 's high ; 
That is the place thou '11 ne'er come nigh. 

17 ' O mother dear, but hell is deep ; 
'T will cause thee bitterlie to weep.' 

I Ln 

a. Buchan's MS., ii, 111. b. Buchan's Ballads of the 
North of Scotland, ii, 217. c. Christie, Traditional Ballad 
Airs, I, 106. 

1 The minister's daughter of New York, 
Hey wi the rose and the lindie, O 
Has faen in love wi her father's clerk. 
Alone by the green bum sidie, O 

2 She courted him six years and a day, 
At length her belly did her betray. 

3 She did her down to the greenwood gang, 
To spend awa a while o her time. 

4 She lent her back unto a thorn. 

And she 's got her twa bonny boys bom. 



6 She 's taen the ribbons frae her hair, 
Bound their bodyes fast and sair. 

6 She 's put them aneath a marble stane, 
Thinking a maiden to gae hame. 

7 Looking oer her castle wa, 

She spied her bonny boys at the ba. 

8 ' bonny babies, if ye were mine, 

I woud feed you with the white bread and 

9 ' I woud feed you wi the ferra cow's milk, 
And dress you in the finest silk.' 

10 * O cruel mother, when we were thine, 
We saw none of your bread and wine. 

11 * We saw none of your ferra cow's milk, 
Nor wore we of your finest sUk.' 

12 * O bonny babies, can ye tell me. 
What sort of death for you I must die ? ' 

13 ' Yes, cruel mother, we '11 tell to thee, 
What sort of death for us you must die. 

14 ' Seven years a fowl in the woods. 
Seven years a fish in the floods. 

15 ' Seven years to be a church bell. 
Seven years a porter in hell.* 

16 ' Welcome, welcome, fowl in the wood[s], 
Welcome, welcome, fish in the flood [s]. 

17 ' Welcome, welcome, to be a church bell, 
But heavens keep me out of hell.' 

J ir^ 

a. Harris MS., fol. 10, " Mrs Harris and others." b. Frag- 
ment communicated by Dr T. Davidson. 

1 She leant her back against a thorn. 

Hey for the Rose o' Malindie O 
And there she has twa bonnie babes born. 
Adoon by the green wood sidie O 

2 She 's taen the ribbon frae her head. 

An hankit their necks tUl they waur dead. 

3 She luikit outowre her castle wa, 

An saw twa nakit boys, playin at the ba. 

4 * bonnie boys, waur ye but mine, 

I wald feed ye wi flour-bread an wine.' 

6 * O fause mother, whan we waur thine, 
Ye didna feed us wi flour-bread an wine.' 

6 ' O bonnie boys, gif ye waur mine, 
I wald died ye wi silk sae fine.' 

7 * fause mother, whan we waur thine. 
You didna clied us in silk sae fine. 

8 ' Ye tuik the ribbon aff your head. 
An' hankit our necks till we waur dead. 

* * # # * 

9 ' Ye sail be seven years bird on the tree. 
Ye saU be seven years fish i the sea. 

10 ' Ye sail be seven years eel i the pule. 
An ye sail be seven years doon into hell.' 

11 ' Welcome, welcome, bird on the tree, 
Welcome, welcome, fish i the sea. 

12 ' Welcome, welcome, eel i the pule, 

But oh for gudesake, keep me frae hell ! ' 

K in 

Motherwell's MS., p. 186. 

1 Lady Mabgaeet looked oer the castle wa, 
Hey and a lo and a lilly O 

And she saw twa bonnie babes playing at the 
Down by the green wood sidy 

2 ' pretty babes, an ye were mine, 
I would dress you in the silks so fine.' 



3 ' false mother, when we were thine, 
Ye did not dress us in silks so fine.' 

4 ' O bonnie babes, an ye were mine, 

I would feed you on the bread and win6.* 

6 * false mother, when we were thine, 

Ye did not feed us on the bread and the wine.' 

* * * * 

6 ' Seven years a fish in the sea, 
And seven years a bird in the tree. 

7 ' Seven years to ring a bell, 
And seven years porter in hell.' 

L C^ 

Smith's Scottish Minstrel, iv, 33, 2d ed. 

1 A LADY lookd out at a castle wa. 

Fine flowers in the valley 
She saw twa bonnie babes playing at the ba. 
And the green leaves they grow rarely 

2 ' my bonnie babes, an ye were mine, 
I would deed ye i the scarlet sae fine. 

3 ' I 'd lay ye saft in beds o down, 

And watch ye morning, night and noon.' 

4 * O mither dear, when we were thine. 
Ye didna deed us i the scarlet sae fine. 

5 * But ye took out yere little pen-knife, 
And parted us frae our sweet life. 

6 * Ye howkit a hole aneath the moon, 
And there ye laid our bodies down. 

7 ' Ye happit the hole wi mossy stanes, 
And there ye left our wee bit banes. 

8 ' But ye ken weel, O mither dear, 
Ye never cam that gate for fear.' 

* * * * 

9 ' Seven lang years ye 'U ring the bell. 
And see sic sights as ye dama tell.' 

M If^ 

Communicated by Miss Margaret Rebum, as learned in 
Cotmty Meath, Ireland, about 1860. 

* mother dear, when we were thine, 
AU a lee and aloney O 

You neither dressed us in coarse or fine.* 
Down by the greenwood sidy O 

A. Superscribed, " Fragment to its own tune. 
Melancholy." Against the first line of the 
burden is written in the margin, " perhaps 
alas-a-day," and this change is adopted in 
Herd's printed copy. Scott suggested well-a- 

42. MSS and ed. 1776 have ze . . . ze '11. 

B. b. " A fragment {of 5 stanzas'] containing the 

following verses, which I have often heard 
sung in my childhood." Scott, lii, 259. No 
burden is given. 
1^. She set her back against. 1^ young son 

2*. smile nae sae. 


3, 4, wanting. 

5^. An when that lady went. 5^ She spied a 
naked boy. 

6^. O bonnie boy, an ye. 6'. I 'd deed ye in 
the silks. 

7^. To me ye were na half. 

Cunningham, Songs of Scotland, i, 340, says : 
" I remember a verse, and but a verse, of an 
old ballad which records a horrible instance 
of barbarity," and quotes the first two stanzas 
of Scott's fragment literally ; from which we 
may infer that it was Scott's fragment that 
he partly remembered. But he goes on : 

, " At this moment a hunter came — one whose 



suit the lady had long rejected with scorn — 
the brother of her lover : 

He took the babe on his spear point, 

And threw it upon a thorn : 
' Let the wind blow east, the wind blow west, 

The cradle will rock alone.' I. 

CunningharrCs recollection was evidently much 
confused. This last stanza, which is not in 
the metre of the others, is perhaps from some 
copy of ' Edom o Gordon.' 
D. a. 6\ I was. 

b. Kinloch makes slight changes in his printed 
copy, as itsual. 
4}. until a brier. 
5^. out she 's tane. 

6^ She seemd the lealest maiden amang. 
8^. an thae. 
B. 1^, 11^. Lurk may be a corruption of York, 
which is written in pencil (by way of sugges- 
tion?) in the MS S. 

a. 16^. on your. 

b. 4^, 14^ upon a thorn. 

5^. twind wanting. 6^. sattins wanting. 

13, 14, 15, 16, 17 are not written out in the 

18^. the heavens. J. 

19^. but there is none. 
P. a. 9 stands last but one in the MS. 
142. Here, 
b. 4*^. has her. 
7^ sweet is omitted. 
Printed as from the MS. in Dixon's Scottish 

Traditional Versions, etc., p. 46. Dixon 

has changed baby to babies in 4, 5, 6, 8, 

and indulges in other variations. 
H. The ballad had been heard with two differ- 
ent burdens ; besides the one given in the text, 

Three and three, and three by three L. 

Ah me, some forty three 

7 ' Lady Mary Ann,' Johnson's Museum, No 

377, begins: ^ ^^,.;„ .0 'y^.«^ {y^T^^m^ 

Lady Mary Ann looks oer the castle wa. 
She saw three bonie boys playing at the ba. 

a, b. 14^, 16^. fool, i. e. fowl spelt phonetically. 

a. 3^. greenwoods 

b. 2\ it did. 

8*^. with white. 
11^ wear'd. 
13^. maun die. 

c. " Epitomized " from Buchan, ii, 217, " and 
somewhat changed for this work, some of the 
changes being made according to the way the 
Editor has heard it sung." Note by Chris- 
tie, p. 106. 

* Burden, It 's hey with the rose, etc. 

7^. As a lady was looking. 7^ She spied twa. 
11^. Nor wore we a. 

12^ What sort of pain for you I must drie. 
13^. What sort of pain for us you must drie. 
14^ And seven. 

Printed as from the MS. in Dixon's Scottish 
Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, 
p. 50, ' The Minister's Dochter o Newarke,' 
with a few arbitrary changes. 
a. 91. You. 

b has stanzas corresponding to a 1, 3, 4, 6, 
and, in place of 2, 

She 's taen oot a little pen-knife, 

And she 's robbit them o their sweet life. 

Burden^. Hey i the rose o Mylindsay 0. 

1^. until a thorn. V^. An syne her twa bon- 

nie boys was born. 
S-*. As she leukit oer her father's. 3^. bonnie 

4^. an ye were mine. 4^. bread. 
6^. claithe ye in. 

8 looks like an interpolation, and very probably 
the ballad was docked at the beginning in or- 
der to suit the parlor better. 





" This ballad was communicated to me by Mr 
Kirkpatrick Sharpe of Hoddom, who mentions hav- 
ing copied it from an old magazine. Although it 
has probably received some modern corrections, the 
general turn seems to be ancient, and corresponds 
with that of a fragment [B b], which I have often 
heard sung in my childhood." Minstrelsy of the 
Scottish Border, ni, 259, ed. 1803. 

Buchan, Gleanings, p. 90, has an additional stanza 
between 8 and 9 of Scott's, whether from the old 
magazine or not, it would not be worth the while to 

Cunningham, Songs of Scotland, I, 339, has re- 
written even ' Lady Anne.' 

Translated by Schubart, p. 170, and by Gerhard, 
p. 92. 

1 Fair Lady Anne sate in her bower, 
Down by the greenwood side, 
And the flowers did spring, and the birds 
'T was the pleasant May-day tide. 


2 But fair Lady Anne on Sir William calld, 

With the tear grit in her ee, 
* O though thou be fause, may Heaven thee guard, 
In the wars ayont the sea 1 ' 

3 Out of the wood came three bonnie boys, 

Upon the simmer's morn, 
And they did sing and play at the ba', 
As naked as they were born. 

4 * O seven lang years wad I sit here, 

Amang the frost and snaw, 
A' to hae but ane o these bonnie boys, 
A playing at the ba.' 

5 Then up and spake the eldest boy, 

' Now listen, thou fair ladie. 
And ponder well the rede that I tell, 
Then make ye a choice of the three. 

6 * 'T is I am Peter, and this is Paul, 

And that ane, sae fair to see. 

But a twelve-month sinsyne to paradise came. 
To join with our companie.' 

7 ' O I will hae the snaw-white boy. 

The bonniest of the three : ' 
• And if I were thine, and in thy propine, 
O what wad ye do to me ? ' 

8 ' 'T is I wad dead thee in silk and gowd. 

And nourice thee on my knee: ' 
' O mither, mither, when I was thine, 
Sic kindness I could na see. 

9 ' Beneath the turf, where now I stand, 

The fause nurse buried me; 
The cruel pen-knife sticks still in my heart, 
And I come not back to thee.' 

" There are many variations of this affecting 
tale. One of them appears in the Musical Museum, 
and is there called ' Fine Flowers of the Valley,' of 
which the present is either the original or a parallel 
song. I am inclined to think it is the original." 
Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, 
p. 267. 

This is translated by Talvj, Versuch, p. 571. 

1 There sat 'mang the flowers a fair ladie. 

Sing ohon, ohon, and ohon O 
And there she has born a sweet babie. 
Adown by the greenwode side O 

2 An strait she rowed its swaddling band, 
An O I nae mother grips took her hand. 

3 O twice it lifted its bonnie wee ee: 

' Thae looks gae through the saul o me I ' 

4 She buried the bonnie babe neath the brier, 
And washed her hands wi mony a tear. 

5 And as she kneelt to her God in prayer. 
The sweet wee babe was smiling there. 

6 ' O ay, my God, as I look to thee, 
My babe 's atween my God and me. 

7 * Ay, ay, it lifts its bonnie wee ee : 

* " Sic kindness get as ye shawed me.'* ' 

8 ' An O its smiles wad win me in, 
But I 'm borne down by deadly sip. 



A. Percy MS., p. 461. 
nivall, lY, 96. 


Lillumwham,' Hales and Fur- B. Sharpe's Ballad Book,'ed. Laing, p. 157. 

The only English copy of this ballad that 
approaches completeness is furnished by the 
Percy manuscript, A. Sir Walter Scott re- 
membered, and communicated to Kirkpatrick 
Sharpe, three stanzas, and half of the burden, 
of another version, B. 

There are three versions in Danish, no one 
of them very well preserved. A, ' Maria Mag- 
dalena,' is a broadside of about 1700, existing 
in two identical editions : Grundtvig, No 98, 
n, 530 ; B, ib., was written down in the Faroe 
isles in 1848, by Hammershaimb ; C was ob- 
tained from recitation by Kristensen in Jut- 
land in 1869, Jydske Folkeviser, i, 197, No 
72, ' Synderinden.' 

A Faroe version, from the end of the last 
century or the beginning of this, is given in 
Grundtvig's notes, p. 533 ff. 

Versions recently obtained from recitation 
in Norway are : * Maria,' Bugge's Gamle 
Norske Folkeviser, No 18 ; A, p. 88 ; B, p. 
90, a fragment, which has since been com- 
pleted, but only two more stanzas printed, 
Grundtvig, III, 889 ; C, Bugge, p. 91. D, B 
are reported, but only a stanza or two printed, 
Grundtvig, m, 889 f ; F, printed 890 f, and 
G, as obtained by Lindeman, 891 : all these, 
D-G, communicated by Bugge. C, and one 
or two others, are rather Danish than Nor- 

This is, according to Afzelius, one of the 
commonest of Swedish ballads. These ver- 
sions are known : A, " a broadside of 1798 
and 1802," Grundtvig, n, 531, Bergstrom's 
Afzelius, I, 335 ; B, ' Magdalena,' Atterbom's 
Poetisk Kalender for 1816, p. 20 ; C, Afze- 
lius, n, 229 ; D, Arwidsson, i, 377, No 60 ; E, 
Dybeck's Svenska Visor, Hafte 2, No 6, only 
two stanzas; F, G, "in Wiede's collection, in 

the Swedish Historical and Antiquarian Acad- 
emy ; " H, " in Cavallius and Stephens' col- 
lection, where also A, F, G are found ; " I, 
Maximilian Axelson's Vesterdalarne, p. 171 ; 
J, ' Jungfru Adelin,' E. Wigstrom's Folkdikt- 
ning, No 38, p. 76 ; K, ' Jungfru Maja,' Al- 
bum utgifvet af Nylandingar, vi, 227. A-F 
are printed in Grundtvig's notes, n, 533 ff, 
and also some verses of G, H. 

The ballad is known to have existed in 
Icelandic from a minute of Arne Magnusson, 
who cites the line, " Swear not, swear not, 
wretched woman," but it has not been recov- 
ered (Grundtvig, m, 891, note d). 

Finnish, ' Mataleenan vesimatka,' Kantele- 
tar, ed. 1864, p. 240. 

The story of the woman of Samaria, John, 
iv, is in all these blended with mediaeval tradi- 
tions concerning Mary Magdalen, who is as- 
sumed to be the same with the woman " which 
was a sinner," in Luke, vii, 37, and also with 
Mary, sister of Lazarus. This is the view of 
the larger part of the Latin ecclesiastical writ- 
ers, while most of the Greeks distinguish the 
three (Butler, ' Lives of the Saints,' vn, 290, 
note). It was reserved for ballads, as Grundt- 
vig remarks, to confound the Magdalen with 
the Samaritan woman. 

The traditional Mary Magdalen was a beau- 
tiful woman of royal descent, who derived her 
surname from Magdalum, her portion of the 
great family estate. For some of her earlier 
years entirely given over to carnal delights, 
" unde jam, proprio nomine perdito, peccatrix 
consueverat appellari," she was, by the preach- 
ing of Jesus, converted to a passionate re- 
pentance and devotedness. In the course of 
the persecution of the church at Jerusalem, 
when Stephen was slain and the Christians 



widely dispersed, Mary, with Lazarus, her 
brother, Martha, and many more, were set 
afloat on the Mediterranean in a rudderless 
ship, with the expectation that they would 
find a watery grave. But the malice of the 
unbelieving was overruled, and the vessel 
came safe into port at Marseilles. Having 
labored some time for the christianizing of 
the people, and founded churches and bishop- 
rics, Mary retired to a solitude where there 
was neither water, tree, nor plant, and passed 
the last thirty years of her life in heavenly 
contemplation. The cave in which she se- 
cluded herself is still shown at La Sainte 
Baume. The absence of material comforts 
was, in her case, not so great a deprivation, 
since every day at the canonical hours she 
was carried by angels to the skies, and heard, 
with ears of the flesh, the performances of the 
heavenly choirs, whereby she was so thoroughly 
refected that when the angels restored her to 
her cave she was in need of no bodily aliment. 
(Golden Legend, Grsesse, c. 96.) It is the 
practical Martha that performs real austeri- 
ties, and those which are ascribed to her cor- 
respond too closely with the penance in the 
Scandinavian ballads not to be the original of 
it : " Nam in primis septem annis, glandibus et 
radicibus herbisque crudis et pomis * silves- 
tribus corpusculum sustentans potius quam re- 
ficiens, victitavit .... Extensis solo ramis 
arboreis aut viteis, lapide pro cervicali capiti 
superpositosubjecto, .... incumbebat." (Vin- 
cent of Beauvais, Spec. Hist., ix, 100.) 

The best-preserved Scandinavian ballads 
concur nearly in this account. A woman at 
a well, or a stream, is approached by Jesus, 
who asks for drink. She says she has no ves- 
sel to serve him with. He replies that if she 
were pure, he would drink from her hands. 
She protests innocence with oaths, but is si- 

* The Magdalen's food is to be dry apple in Danish B 9, 
t Swedish P : 

14 ' And tell me how has it been with thy meat? ' 
' O I have eaten of almonds sweet.' 

15 ' And tell me how it has been with thy drink ? ' 
' I have drunk both mead and wine, I think.' 

16 'And tell me how was that bed of thine? ' 
' Oh I have rested on ermeline.' 

lenced by his telling her that she has had three 
children, one with her father, one with her 
brother, one with her parish priest : Danish 

A, B, C ; Faroe ; Swedish C, D, F, I, J, K ; 
Norwegian A, C, F, G. She falls at his feet, 
and begs him to shrive her. Jesus appoints 
her a seven years' penance in the wood. Her 
food shall be the buds or the leaves of the 
tree [grass, worts, berries, bark], her drink 
the dew [brook, juice of plants], her bed the 
hard ground [linden-roots, thorns and prickles, 
rocks, straw and sticks] ; all the while she 
shall be harassed by bears and lions [wolves], 
or snakes and drakes (this last in Swedish 

B, C, D, I, K, Norwegian A). The time ex- 
pired, Jesus returns and asks how she has 
liked her penance. She answers, as if she had 
eaten daintily, drunk wine, slept on silk or 
swan's-down, and had angelic company [had 
been listening to music] .f Jesus then tells 
her that a place is ready for her in heaven. 

The penance lasts eight years in Swedish C, 
F, J, Norwegian A ; nine in the Faroe ballad ; 
fifteen in Danish B ; and six weeks in Danish 

C, It is to range the field in Danish A, Swed- 
ish F ; to walk the snows barefoot in the Faroe 
ballad and Norwegian B ; in Norwegian D to 
stand nine years in a rough stream and eight 
years naked in the church-paths. 

The names Maria, or Magdalena, Jesus, or 
Christ, are found in most of the Scandinavian 
ballads. Swedish E has 'Lena (Lilla Lena) ; 
Swedish H He-lena ; J, Adelin ; K, Maja. 
Norwegian A gives no name to the woman, 
and Danish A a name only in the burden ; 
Norwegian B has, corruptly, Margjit. In Dan- 
ish C, Norwegian B, G, Jesus is called an old 
man, correspondingly with the " old palmer " 
of English A, but the old man is afterwards 
called Jesus in Norwegian G (B is not printed 
in full), and in the burden of Danish C. The 

Norwegian G: 

13 * I have fed as well on herbage wild 

As others have fed on roast and broiled. 

14 ' I have rested as well on the hard, hard stone 
As others have rested on beds of down. 

15 ' I have drunk as well from the rippling rill 
As others tliat drank both wine and ale.' 



Son is exchanged for the Father in Swed- 
ish D. 

Stanzas 4, 5 of Swedish A, Q, approach sin- 
gularly near to English A 6, 7 : 

Swedish A : 

4 * Would thy leman now but come, 

Thou wouldst give him to drink out of thy hand.' 

5 By all the worlds Magdalen swore, 
That leman she never had. 

Swedish G : 

4 ' Yes, hut if I thy leman were, 

I should get drink from thy snow-white hand.' 

6 Maria swore by the Holy Ghost, 
She neer had to do with any man. 

The woman is said to have taken the lives 
of her three children in Danish A, B, C, and 
of two in Swedish C, D, P, I, J, K (B also, 
where there are but two in all), a trait prob- 
ably borrowed from ' The Cruel Mother.' 

The seven years' penance of the Scandina-' 
vian ballads is multiplied three times in Eng- 
lish A, and four times in B and in those ver- 
sions of * The Cruel Mother ' which have been 
affected by the present ballad (20, I, J, K ; 
L is defective). What is more important, the 
penance in the English ballads is completely 
different in kind, consisting not in exagger- 
ated austerities, but partly, at least, in trans- 
migration or metensomatosis : seven years to 
be a fish, 20, I, J, K ; seven years a bird, 20, 
I, J, K ; seven years a stone, 21, A, B; seven 
years an eel, 20, J ; seven years a bell, or bell- 
clapper, 20, I, 21, A (to ring a bell, 20, K, 
L). Seven years in hell seems to have been 
part of the penance or penalty in every case : 
seven years a porter in hell, 21, B, 20, I, K ; 
seven years down in hell, 20, J ; seven years 
to " ring the bell and see sic sights as ye darna 
tell, 20, L ; " " other seven to lead an ape 
in hell," A, a burlesque variation of the por- 

The Finnish Mataleena, going to the well 
for water, sees the reflection of her face, and 
bewails her lost charms. Jesus begs a drink : 
she says she has no can, no glass. He bids 

her confess. " Where are your three boys ? 
One you threw into the fire, one into the 
water, and one you buried in the wilderness." 
She fills a pail with her tears, washes his feet, 
and wipes them with her hair : then asks for 
penance. " Put me. Lord Jesus, where you 
will. Make me a ladder-bridge over the sea, a 
brand in the fire, a coal in the furnace." 

There are several Slavic ballads which blend 
the story of the Samaritan woman and that of 
* The Cruel Mother,' without admixture of the 
Magdalen. Wendish A, 'Aria' (M-aria ?), 
Haupt and Schmaler, i, 287, No 290, has a 
maid who goes for water on Sunday morning, 
and is joined by an old man who asks for a 
drink. She says the water is not clean ; it is 
dusty and covered with leaves. He says, The 
water is clean, but you are unclean. She de- 
mands proof, and he bids her go to church in 
her maiden wreath. This she does. The grass 
withers before her, a track of blood follows 
her, and in the churchyard there come to her 
nine headless boys, who say, Nine sons hast 
thou killed, chopt off their heads, and mean- 
est to do the same for a tenth. She entreats 
their forgiveness, enters the church, sprinkles 
herself with holy water, kneels at the altar 
and crosses herself, then suddenly sinks into 
the ground, so that nothing is to be seen but 
her yellow hair. B, ' Die Kindesmorderin,' 
i6., n, 149, No 197, begins like A. As the 
maid proceeds to the church, nine graves open 
before her, and nine souls follow her into the 
church. The oldest of her children springs 
upon her and breaks her neck, saying, " Mother, 
here is thy reward. Nine of us didst thou 

There are two Moravian ballads of the 
same tenor : A, Deutsches Museum, 1855, i, 
282, translated by M. Klapp : B, communi- 
cated to the Zeitschrift des bohmischen Mu- 
seums, 1842, p. 401, by A. W. Sembera, as 
sung by the " mahrisch sprechenden Slawen " 
in Prussian Silesia ; the first seven stanzas 
translated in Haupt u. Schmaler, ii, 314, note 
to No 197. The Lord God goes out one Sun- 
day morning, and meets a maid, whom he asks 
for water. She says the water is not clean. 
He replies that it is cleaner than she : for (A) 



she has seduced fifteen men and had children 
with all of them, has filled hell with the men 
and the sea with the children. He sends her 
to church ; but, as she enters the church-yard, 
the bells begin to ring (of themselves), and 
when she enters the church, all the images 
turn their backs. A§ she falls on her knees, 
she is changed into a pillar of salt. 

The popular ballads of some of the southern 
nations give us the legend of the Magdalen 
without mixture. 

French. A, Poesies populaires de la France, 
I (not paged), from Sermoyer, Ain, thirty 
lines, made stanzas by repetition. Mary goes 
from door to door seeking Jesus. He asks 
what she wants : she answers, To be shriven. 
Her sins have been such, she says, that the 
earth ought not to bear her up, the trees that 
see her can but tremble. For penance she is 
to stay seven years in the woods of Baume, 
eat the roots of the trees, drink the dew, and 
sleep under a juniper. Jesus comes to inquire 
about her when this space has expired. She 
says she is well, but her hands, once white as 
flower-de-luce, are now black as leather. For 
this Jesus requires her to stay seven years 
longer, and then, being thoroughly cured of 
her old vanities, she is told, 

* Marie Magdeleine, allez au paradis ; 

La porte en est ouverte depuis hier h midi.' 

B is nearly the same legend in Provencal : 
Damase Arbaud, I, 64. The penance is seven 
years in a cave, at the end of which Jesus 
passes, and asks Mary what she has had to 
eat and drink. " Wild roots, and not always 
them ; muddy water, and not always that." 
The conclusion is peculiar. Mary expresses 
a wish to wash her hands. Jesus pricks the 
rock, and water gushes out. She bewails the 
lost beauty of her hands, and is remanded to 
the cavern for another seven years. Upon her 
exclaiming at the hardship, Jesus tells her 
that Martha shall come to console her, the 
wood-dove fetch her food, the birds drink. 
But Mary is not reconciled : 

' Lord God, my good father, 
Make me not go back again ! 

"With the tears from my eyes 
I will wash my hands clean. 

' With the tears from my eyes 

I wUl wash your feet, 
And then I will dry them 

With the hair of my head.' 

C, Poesies populaires de la Gascogne, Bladd, 
1881, p. 339, ' La pauvre Madeleine,' seven- 
teen stanzas of four short lines, resembles B 
till the close. When Jesus comes back after 
the second penance, and Mary says, as she 
had before, that she has lived like the beasts, 
only she has lacked water, Jesus again causes 
water to spring from the rock. But Mary 
says, I want no water. I should have to go 
back to the cave for another seven years. She 
is conducted straightway to paradise. 

D, Blad^, as before, p. 183, ' Marie-Made- 
leine,' six stanzas of five short lines. Mary is 
sent to the mountains for seven years' pen- 
ance ; at the end of that time washes her 
hands in a brook, and is guilty of admiring 
them ; is sent back to the mountains for seven 
years, and is then taken to heaven. 

A Catalan ballad combines the legend of 
the Magdalen's penance with that of her con- 
version : Mil4, Observaciones, p. 128, No 27, 
' Santa Magdalena,' and Briz y Salt6, Can- 
sons de la Terra, n, 99. Martha, returning 
from church, asks Magdalen, who is combing 
her hair with a gold comb, if she has been at 
mass. Magdalen says no, nor had she thought 
of going. Martha advises her to go, for she 
certainly will fall in love with the preacher, a 
young man ; pity that he ever was a friar. 
Magdalen attires herself with the utmost 
splendor, and, to hear the sermon better, takes 
a place immediately under the pulpit. The 
first word of the sermon touched her ; at the 
middle she fainted. She stripped off all her 
ornaments, and laid them at the preacher's 
feet. At the door of the church she inquired 
of a penitent where Jesus was to be found. 
She sought him out at the house of Simon, 
washed his feet with her tears, and wiped 
them with her hair, picked up from the floor 
the bones which he had thrown away. Jesus 
at last noticed her, and asked what she wished. 



She wished to confess. He imposed the pen- 
ance of seven years on a mountain, " eating 
herbs and fennels, eating bitter herbs." Mag- 
dalen turned homewards after the seven years, 
and found on the way a spring, where she 
washed her hands, with a sigh over their dis- 
figurement. She heard a voice that said, Mag- 
dalen, thou hast sinned. She asked for new 
penance, and was sent back to the mountain 

for seven years more. At the end of this sec- 
ond term she died, and was borne to the skies 
with every honor from the Virgin, saints, and 

Danish A is translated by Prior, n, 25, No 
44 : Swedish C by William and Mary Howitt, 
Literature and Romance of Northern Europe, 
I, 282. 

Percy MS., p. 461. Furnivall, it, 96. 

1 The maid shee went to the well to washe, 

Lillumwham, lillumwham ! 
The mayd shee went to the well to washe, 

Whatt then ? what then ? 
The maid shee went to the well to washe, 
Dew ffell of her lilly white fleshe. 

Grandam boy, grandam boy, heye ! 
Leg a derry, leg a merry, mett, mer, whoope, 
whir ! 

Driuance, larumben, grandam boy, heye ! 

2 "While shee washte and while shee ronge, 
While shee hangd o the hazle wand. 

3 There came an old palmer by the way, 

Sais, ' God speed thee well, thou faire maid ! ' 

4 ' Hast either cupp or can, 

To giue an old palmer drinke therin ? ' 

5 Sayes, ' T have neither cupp nor cann, 
To giue an old palmer drinke therin.' 

6 * But an thy lemwan came from Roome, 
Cupps and canns thou wold ffind soone.' 

7 Shee sware by God & good St. John, 
Lemman had shee neuer none. 

8 Sales, ' Peace, ffaire mayd, you are fEorswome ! 
Nine children you haue borne. 

9 * Three were buryed vnder thy bed's head. 
Other three vnder thy brewing leade. 

10 ' Other three on yon play greene ; 
Count, maid, and there be 9.' 

11 ' But I hope you are the good old man 
That all the world beleeues vpon. 

12 ' Old palmer, I pray thee, 
Pennaunce that thou wilt giue to me.* 

13 * Penance I can giue thee none, 
But 7 yeere to be a stepping-stone. 

14 ' Other seaven a clapper in a bell, 
Other 7 to lead an ape in heU. 

15 * When thou hast thy penance done, 
Then thoust come a mayden home.' 


A Ballad Book, bj Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, edited by 
David Laing, p. 157 f, vii ; from Sir W. Scott's recollection. 

1 ' Seven years ye shall be a stone, 

For many a poor palmer to rest him upon. 
And you the fair maiden of Gowden-gane 

' Seven years ye '11 be porter of hell. 
And then I 'U take you to my sell.' 

♦ # # * * 

* Weel may I be a' the other three. 
But porter of hell I never will be.' 

And I, etc. 



A. 2\ White shee washee & white. 2\ White. 
9^. They were. 

10^ on won. 10^. maids. 

B. Note by Scott: "There is or was a curious 

song with this burthen to the verse, 

' And I the fair maiden of Gowden-gane.' 
Said maiden is, I think, courted by the devil 

in human shape, but I only recollect imper- 
fectly the concluding stanzas [1, 2] : 

' Seven years ye shall be a stone,' 

(here a chorus line which I have forgot), etc. 
The lady answers, in allusion to a former word 
which I have forgotten, 

Weel may I be [etc., st. 3]." 


Sloane MS., 2593, fol. 22 b; British Museum. 

The manuscript which preserves this de- 
lightful little legend has been judged by the 
handwriting to be of the age of Henry VI. 
It was printed entire by Mr T. Wright, in 
1856, for the Warton Club, under the title, 
Songs and Carols, from a manuscript in the 
British Museum of the fifteenth century, the 
ballad at p. 63. Ritson gave the piece as ' A 
Carol for St Stephen's Day,' in Ancient 
Songs, 1790, p. 83, and it has often been re- 
peated ; e. g., in Sandys' Christmas Carols, p. 
4, Sylvester's, p. 1. 

The story, with the Wise Men replacing 
Stephen, is also found in the carol, still cur- 
rent, of ' The Carnal and the Crane,' Sandys, 
p. 152, in conjunction with other legends and 
in this order : the Nativity, the Wise Men's 
passage with Herod, the Massacre of the In- 
nocents, the Flight into Egypt, Herod and 
the Sower. 

The legend of Stephen and Herod occurs, 
and is even still living, in Scandinavian tradi- 
tion, combined, as in English, with others re- 
lating to the infancy of Jesus. 

Danish. ' Jesusbarnet, Stefan og Herodes : ' 
A, Grundtvig, No 96, n, 525. First printed 

* Everriculum fermenti veteris, seu residuse in Danico 
orbe cum paganismi turn papismi reliquiae in apricum pro- 
late. " Eogata anas num vera esse crederet quse canebat, 

in Erik Pontoppidan's little book on the rel- 
iques of Paganism and Papistry among the 
Danish People, 1736, p. 70, as taken down 
from the singing of an old beggar-woman be- 
fore the author's door.* Syv alludes to the 
ballad in 1695, and cites one stanza. The 
first five of eleven stanzas are devoted to the 
beauty of the Virgin, the Annunciation, and 
the birth of the Saviour. The song then goes 
on thus : 

6 Saint Stephen leads the foals to water, 

All by the star so gleaming : 
' Of a truth the prophet now is born 
That all the world shall ransom.' 

7 King Herod answered thus to him : 

' I '11 not beHeve this story, 
TiU the roasted cock that is on the board 
Claps his wings and crows before me.' 

8 The cock he clapped his wings and crew, 

' Our Lord, this is his birthday ! ' 
Herod fell off from his kingly seat, 
For grief he fell a swooning. 

9 King Herod bade saddle his courser gray. 

He listed to ride to Bethlem ; 

respondit : Me ilia in dubium Tocatnram averruncet Peas I " 
Grundtvig, ii, 518. 



Fain would he slay the little child 
That to cope with him pretended. 

10 Mary took the child in her arms, 

And Joseph the ass took also, 
So they traversed the Jewish land, 
To Egypt, as God them guided. 

11 The little children whose hlood was shed, 

They were full fourteen thousand, 
But Jesus was thirty miles away 
Before the sun was setting. 

B. A broadside of fourteen four-line stanzas, 
in two copies, a of the middle, b from the lat- 
ter part, of the last century, b was printed 
"in the Dansk Kirketidende for 1862, No 43," 
by Professor George Stephens : a is given by 
Grundtvig, m, 881. The first three stanzas 
correspond to A 1-5, the next three to A 6-8 : 
the visit of the Wise Men to Herod is then 
intercalated, 7-10, and the story concludes as 
in A 9-11. 

C. ' Sankt Steffan,' Kristensen, il, 123, No 
86, from recitation about 1870, eight four-line 
stanzas, 1-3 agreeing with A 3-6, 4-6 with 
A 6-9, 7, 8 with A 9, 11. The verbal re- 
semblance with the copy sung by the old beg- 
gar-woman more than a hundred and thirty 
years before is often close. 

A Faroe version, ' Rudisar vfsa,' was com- 
municated to the Dansk Kirketidende for 1852, 
p. 293, by Hammershaimb, twenty-six two-line 
stanzas (Grundtvig, il, 519). Stephen is in 
Herod's service. He goes out and sees the 
star in the east, whereby he knows that the 
Saviour of the world, *'the great king," is 
bom. He comes in and makes this announce- 
ment. Herod orders his eyes to be put out : 

* " Staffans-skede, lusus, vel, ut rectius dicam, licentia 
puerorum agrestium, qui in Festo S. Stephani, equis vecti 
per villas discurrunt, et cerevisiain in lagenis, ad hoc ipsum 
praeparatis, mendicando ostiatim colliguut : " a dissertation, 
Upsala, 1734, cited by Bergstrom in his edition of Afzelius, 
II, 358, note 28. Skede is gallop, or run, Icelandic skeiS 
(Bergstrom), Norwegian skeid, skjei. Many copies of the 
Staffansvisa have been collected : see Bergstrom's Afzelius, 
II, 356 : and for a description of the custom as practised 
among Swedes in Finland, with links and lanterns, but no 
foals, Fagerlund, Anteckningar om Korpo och Houtskars 
Socknar, p. 39 ff. Something very similar was known in 
Holstein : see Schiitze, Holsteinsches Idioticon, iii, 200, as 

SO, he says, it will appear whether this "king" 
will help him. They put out Stephen's eyes, 
but now he sees as well by night as before by 
day. At this moment a cock, roast and carved, 
is put on the board before Herod, who cries 

' If this cock would stand up and crow, 
Then in Stephen's tale should I trow.' 

Herod he stood, and Herod did wait, 

The cock came together that lay in the plate. 

The cock flew up on the red gold chair, 
He clapped his wings, and he crew so fair. 

Herod orders his horse and rides to Bethle- 
hem, to find the new-born king. As he comes 
in, Mary greets him, and tells him there is 
still mead and wine. He answers that she 
need not be so mild with him : he will have 
her son and nail him on the cross. " Then 
you must go to heaven for him," says Mary. 
Herod makes an attempt on Jesus, but is 
seized by twelve angels and thrown into the 
Jordan, where the Evil One takes charge of 

Swedish. A single stanza, corresponding 
to Danish A 6, B 4, C 4, is preserved in a 
carol, ' Staffans Visa,' which was wont to be 
sung all over Sweden on St Stephen's day, 
in the Christmas sport, not yet given up, 
called Staffansskede ; which consisted in young 
fellows riding about from house to house early 
in the morning of the second day of Yule, 
and levying refreshments.* One of the party 
carried at the end of a pole a lighted lantern, 
made of hoops and oiled paper, which was 
sometimes in the shape of a six-cornered star. 
Much of the chant was improvised, and both 

quoted by Grundtvig, ii, 521, note **. From Chambers' Book 
of Days, ii, 763 f, it appears that a custom, called a Stephen- 
ing, was still existing at the beginning of this century, of 
the inhabitants of the parish of Drayton Beauchamp, Bucks, 
paying a visit to the rector on December 26, and lightening 
his stores of all the bread, cheese and ale they wanted. 
Chambers, again, in his Popular Rhymes of Scotland, p. 
168 f, gives a song closely resembling the Staffansvisa, which 
was sung before every house on New Year's eve, in Deer- 
ness, Orkney, with the same object of stimulating hospital- 
ity. Similar practices are known in the Scottish Highlands : 
see Campbell, Tales of the "West Highlands, iii, 19, and 
Chambers, at p. 167 of the Popular Bhymea 



the good wishes and the suggestions as to the 
expected treat would naturally be suited to 
particular cases ; but the first stanza, with but 
slight variations, was (Afzelius, iii, 208, 210) : 

Stephen was a stable-groom, 

We thank you now so kindly ! 
He watered the five foals all and some, 

Ere the morning star was shining. 

No dayhght 's to be seen, 

The stars in the sky 
Are gleaming. 


Stephen was a stable-groom, 

Bear thee well my foal ! 
He watered the five foals all and some, 

God help us and Saint Stephen ! 

The sun is not a-shining, 

But the stars in the sky 
Are gleaming. 

There is also a Swedish ballad which has 
the substance of the story of Danish A 6-8, 
but without any allusion to Stephen. It oc- 
curs as a broadside, in two copies, dated 1848, 
1851, and was communicated by Professor 
Stephens to the Dansk Kirketidende, 1861, 
Nos 3, 4, and is reprinted by Grundtvig, ill, 
882 f, and in Bergstrom's Afzelius, II, 360 f. 
There are eleven four-line stanzas, of which 
the last six relate how Mary was saved from 
Herod by the miracle of the Sower (see ' The 
Carnal and the Crane,' stanzas 18-28). The 
first five cover the matter of our ballad. The 
first runs : 

In Bethlem of Judah a star there rose, 
At the time of the birth of Christ Jesus : 

* Now a child is born into the world 

That shall suffer for us death and torment.' 

Herod then calls his court and council, and 

says to them, as he says to Stephen in the 
Danish ballad, " I cannot believe your story 
unless the cock on this table claps his wings 
and crows." This comes to pass, and Herod 
exclaims that he caij never thrive till he has 
made that child feel the effects of his wrath. 
He then steeps his hands in the blood of the 
Innocents, and falls off his throne in a marvel- 
lous swoon. Mary is warned to fly to Egypt. 
It is altogether likely that the person who 
speaks in the first stanza was originally the 
same as the one who says nearly the same 
thing in the three Danish ballads, that is, 
Stephen, and altogether unlikely that Herod's 
words, which are addressed to Stephen in the 
Danish ballads, were addressed to his court 
and council rather than to Stephen here. 

Norwegian. Two stanzas, much corrupted, 
of what may have been a ballad like the fore- 
going, have been recovered by Professor 
Bugge, and are given by Grundtvig, m, 883. 

St Stephen's appearance as a stable-groom, 
expressly in the Swedish carol and by impli- 
cation in the Danish ballads, is to be ex- 
plained by his being the patron of horses 
among the northern nations.* On his day, 
December 26, which is even called in Germany 
the great Horse Day, it was the custom for 
horses to be let blood to keep them well dur- 
ing the year following, or raced to protect 
them from witches. In Sweden they were 
watered "ad alienos fontes" (which, perhaps, 
is what Stephen is engaged in in the carol), 
and treated to the ale which had been left in 
the cups on St Stephen's eve ; etc., etc.f This 
way of observing St Stephen's day is presumed 
to be confined to the north of Europe, or at 
least to be derived from that quarter. Other 
saints are patrons of horses in the south, as 
St Eloi, St Antony, and we must seek the 
explanation of St Stephen's having that office 

* Stephen in all the ballads can be none other than the 
first martyr, though Ihre, and other Swedes since his day, 
choose, for their part, to understand a " Stephanum primum 
Helsingorum apostolum," who certainly did not see the star 
in the east. The peasantry in Helsingland, we are told, 
make their saints' day December 26, too, and their St Ste- 
phen is a great patron of horses. The misappropriation of 
the glories of the protomartyr is somewhat transparent. 

t Grundtvig, whom I chiefly follow here, ii, 521-24. In 

a note on page 521, supplemented at iii, 883 e, Grundtvig 
has collected much interesting evidence of December 26 being 
the great Horse Day. J. W. Wolf, cited by Grundtvig, ii, 
524, had said previously : " Nichts im leben des ersten 
christlichen blutzeugen erinnert auch nur fern an pferde; 
trotzdem machte das volk ihn zum patron der pferde, und 
setzte ihn also an die stelle des Fro, dem im Norden, und 
nicht weniger bei uns, die pferde heilig waren." Beitraga 
zur deutschen Mythologie, i, 124. 



in Scandinavia, Germany, and England in the 
earlier history of these regions. It was sug- 
gested as long ago as the middle of the six- 
teenth century by the Archbishop Olaus Mag- 
nus, that the horseracing, which was universal 
in Sweden on December 26, was a remnant of 
heathen customs. The horse was sacred to 
Frey, and Yule was Frey's festival. There 
can hardly be a doubt that the customs con- 
nected with St Stephen's day are a continua- 
tion, under Christian auspices, of old rites and 
habits which, as in so many other cases, the 
church found it easier to consecrate than to 

The miracle of the cock is met with in 
other ballads, which, for the most part, relate 
the wide-spread legend of the Pilgrims of St 

French. In three versions, Chants de Pau- 
vres en Forez et en Velay, collected by M. 
Victor Smith, Romania, n, 473 ff. Three pil- 
grims, father, mother, and son, on their way 
to St James, stop at an inn, at St Dominic. 
A maid-servant, enamored of the youth (qui 
ressemble une image, que semblavo-z-un ange) 
is repelled by him, and in revenge puts a sil- 
ver cup [cups] belonging to the house into his 
knapsack. The party is pursued and brought 
back, and the young pilgrim is hanged. He 
exhorts his father to accomplish his vow, and 
to come that way when he returns. When the 
father returns, after three [six] months, the 
boy is found to be alive ; his feet have been 
supported, and he has been nourished, by God 
and the saints. The father tells the judge 
that his son is alive ; the judge replies, I will 
believe that when this roast fowl crows. The 
bird crows : A, le poulet se mit a chanter sur 
la table ; B, le poulet vole au ciel, trois fois 
n'a battu I'aile; C, trois fois il a chants, trois 
fois I'a battu I'aile. The boy is taken down 
and the maid hanged. 

Spanish. A, Mild, Observaciones sobre la 
Poesia Popular, p. 106, No 7, ' El Romero ; ' 

B, Briz, Cansons de la Terra, I, 71, ' S. Jaume 
de Galicia,' two copies essentially agreeing. 
The course of the story is nearly as in the 
French. The son does not ask his father to 
come back. It is a touch of nature that the 
mother cannot be prevented from going back 
by all that her husband can say. The boy is 
more than well. St James has been sustain- 
ing his feet, the Virgin his head. He directs 
his mother to go to the alcalde (Mild), who 
will be dining on a cock and a hen, and to 
request him politely to release her son, who 
is still alive. The alcalde replies : " Off with 
you ! Your son is as much alive as this cock 
and hen." The cock began to crow, the hen 
laid an egg in the dish ! 

Dutch. 'Een liedeken van sint Jacob,' 
Antwerpener Liederbuch, 1544, No 20, Hoff- 
mann, p. 26 ; Uhland, p. 803, No 303 ; Wil- 
lems, p. 318, No 133. The pilgrims here are 
only father and son. The host's daughter 
avows her love to her father, and desires to 
detain the young pilgrim. The older pilgrim, 
hearing of this, says, My son with me and 
I with him. We will seek St James, as pil- 
grims good and true. The girl puts the cup 
in the father's sack. The son offers himself 
in his father's place, and is hanged. The fa- 
ther finds that St James and the Virgin have 
not been unmindful of the pious, and tells the 
host that his son is alive. The host, in a rage, 
exclaims, " That 's as true as that these roast 
fowls shall fly out at the door ! " 

But ere the host could utter the "words, 
One by one from the spit brake the birds, 

And into the street went flitting ; 
They flew on the roof of St Dominic's house, 

Where aU the brothers were sitting. 

The brothers resolve unanimously to go to the 
judicial authority in procession; the innocent 
youth is taken down, the host hanged, and his 
daughter buried alive. 

Wendish. Haupt und Schmaler, i, 285, No 

* Jean Baptiste Thiers, Traite des Superstitions, etc., 2d 
ed., Paris, 1697, as cited by Liebrecht, Gervasius von Tilbury, 
Otia Imperialia, p, 233, No 169, condemns the belief, " qu'il 
vaut bien mieux .... saigner des chevaux le jour de la 
ffite de S. Estienne qn'k tout autre jour." This may be one 

of the practices which Thiers had learned of from his read- 
ing (see Liebrecht's preface, p. xviif), but might also have 
migrated from the east or north into France. Superstitions, 
like new fashions, are always sure of a hospitable reception, 
even though they impose a servitude. 



289, ' Der gehenkte Sclienkwirth.' There are 
two pilgrims, father and son. The host him- 
self puts his gold key into the boy's basket. 
The boy is hanged : the father bids him hang 
a year and a day, till he returns. The Virgin 
has put a stool under the boy's feet, and the 
angels have fed him. The father announces 
to the host that his son is living. The host 
will not believe this till three dry staves which 
he has in the house shall put out green shoots. 
This comes to pass. The host will not believe 
till three fowls that are roasting shall recover 
their feathers and fly out of the window. This 
also comes to pass. The host is hanged. 

A Breton ballad, 'Marguerite Laurent,' Lu- 
zel, I, A, p. 211, B, p. 215, inverts a principal 
circumstance in the story of the pilgrims : a 
maid is hanged on a false accusation of hav- 
ing stolen a piece of plate. This may be an 
independent tradition or a corrupt form of the 
other. Marguerite has, by the grace of St 
Anne and of the Virgin, suffered no harm. 
A young clerk, her lover, having ascertained 
this, reports the case to the seneschal, who 
■will not believe till the roasted capon on the 
dish crows. The capon crows. Marguerite 
goes on her bare knees to St Anne and to 
Notre-Dame du Folgoat, and dies in the 
church of the latter (first version). 

' Notre-Dame du Folgoat,' Villemarqu^, 
Barzaz Breiz, p. 272, No 38, 6th ed., is of a 
different tenor. Marie Fanchonik, wrongly 
condemned to be executed for child murder, 
though hanged, does not die. The execu- 

tioner reports to the seneschal. " Burn her," 
says the seneschal. " Though in fire up to her 
breast," says the executioner, " she is laugh- 
ing heartily." "Sooner shall this capon crow 
than I will believe you." The capon crows : a 
roast capon on the dish, all eaten but the feet. 
Religious writers of the 13th century have 
their version of the story of the pilgrims, but 
without the prodigy of the cock. Vincent of 
Beauvais, Speculum Historiale, 1. 26, c. 33, 
who bases his narrative on a collection of the 
miracles of St James incorrectly attributed to 
Pope Callixtus II,* has but two pilgrims, Ger- 
mans, father and son. On their way to Com- 
postella they pass a night in an inn at Tou- 
louse. The host, having an eye to the forfeit- 
ure of their effects, makes them drunk and 
hides a silver cup in their wallet. Son wishes 
to die for father, and father for son. The 
son is hanged, and St James interposes to 
preserve his life.f With Vincent agree the 
author of the Golden Legend, following Cal- 
lixtus, Graesse, 2d ed., p. 426, c. 99 (94), 
§ 5, J and Caesarius Heisterbacensis, Dialogus 
Miraculorum, c. 58, ii, 130, ed. Strange, who, 
however, does not profess to remember every 
particular, and omits to specify Toulouse as 
the place. Nicolas Bertrand, who published 
in 1515 a history of Toulouse, places the mira- 
cle there.§ He has three pilgrims, like the 
French and Spanish ballads, and the roast 
fowl flying from the spit to convince a doubt- 
ing official, like the Dutch and Wendish bal- 

* From a copy of this collection the story is given in Acta 
Sanctorum, vi Julii, p. 50, § 202 ff. 

t Vincent, as pointed out by Professor George Stephens, 
knew of the miracle of the cock, and tells it at 1. 25, c. 64, 
on the authority of Pietro Damiani. Two Bolognese dining 
together, one of them carved a cock and dressed it with pep- 
per and sauce. " Gossip," says the other, " you have ' fixed ' 
that cock so that Peter himself could not put him on his legs 
again." " Peter ? No, not Christ himself." At this the cock 
jumped up, in all his feathers, clapped his wings, crew, and 
threw the sauce all over the blasphemous pair, whereby they 
■were smitten with leprosy. 

t So, naturally, the Fornsvenskt Legendarium, i, 170, 
and the Catalan RecuU de Eximplis e Miracles, etc., Barce- 
lona, 1880, I, 298. 

§ Opus de Tholosanorura gestis, fol. 49 verso, according 
to Acta S., p. 46, of the volume last cited. Toulouse rivalled 
with Compostella in the possession of relics of St James, and 

was amply entitled to the honor of the miracle. Dr Andrew 
Borde, in his First Book of the Introduction of Knowledge, 
says that an ancient doctor of divinity at Compostella told 
him, " We have not one hair nor bone of St. James ; for St 
James the More and St James the Less, St Bartholomew 
and St Philip, St Simon and Jude, St Bernard and St 
George, with divers other Saints, Carolus Magnus brought 
them to Toulouse." Ed. Furnivall, p. 204 f . I do not know 
where the splenetic old divine got his information, but cer- 
tainly from no source so trustworthy as the chronicle of Tur- 
pin. Besides other places in France, the body, or at least 
the head, of St James was claimed by churches in Italy, 
Germany, and the Low Countries. But the author of an old 
Itinerary of the Pilgrims to Compostella asserts that James 
the Greater is one of four saints who never changed his 
burial-place. See Victor Le Clerc in Hist. Litt. de la 
France, xxi, 283. 



But, much earlier than the last date, this 
miracle of St James had become connected 
with the town of San Domingo de la Calzada, 
one of the stations on the way to Compostella,* 
some hours east of Burgos. Roig, the Valen- 
cian poet, on arriving there in the course of 
his pilgrimage, tells the tale briefly, with two 
roasted fowls, cock and hen : Lo Libre de les 
Dones e de ConQells, 1460, as printed by Briz 
from the edition of 1735,»p. 42, Book 2, vv. 
135-183. Lucio Marineo, whose work, De 
las cosas memorables de Espana, appeared in 
1530, had been at San Domingo, and is able 
to make some addition to the miracle of the 
cock. Up to the revivification, his account 
agrees very well with the Spanish ballad. A 
roast cock and hen are lying before the mayor, 
and when he expresses his incredulity, they 
jump from the dish on to the table, in feathers 
whiter than snow. After the pilgrims had 
set out a second time on their way to Com- 
postella, to return thanks to St James, the 
mayor returned to his house with the priests 
and all the people, and took the cock and hen 
to the church, where they lived seven years, 
and then died, leaving behind them a pair of 
the same snowy whiteness, who in turn, after 
seven years, left their successors, and so on to 
Marineo's day ; and though of the infinite 
number of pilgrims who resorted to the tomb 
each took away a feather, the plumage was al- 
ways full, and Marineo speaks as an eye-wit- 
ness. (Edition of 1539, fol. xliii.) Dr Andrew 
Borde gives nearly the same account as Ma- 
rineo, in the First Book of the Introduction 
of Knowledge, 1544, p. 202 ff, ed. Furnivall.t 

Early in the sixteenth century the subject 
was treated in at least two miracle-plays, for 
which it is very well adapted : Un miracolo 

* See ' La grande Chanson des Pe'lerins de Saint-Jacques,' 
in Socard, Noels et Cantiques, etc., p. 76, last stanza, p. 80, 
third stanza, p. 89, fifth stanza ; the last = Romancero de 
Champagne, i, 165, stanza 5. 

t Southey follows Marineo in his Christmas Tale of " The 
Pilgrim to Compostella." 

t " Auch eine deutsche Jesuitenkomodie, Peregrinus Com- 
postellanus, Innsbruck, 1624, behandelt diesen Stoff. F. Lie- 
brecht, in Serapeum, 1864, S. 235." 

§ Vasari, v, 184, Milan, 1809; Crowe and Cavalcaselle, 
III, 124, II, 566 ff, ed. 1866; Mrs Jameson's Sacred and 
Legendary Art, i, 241, ed. 1857. Professor N. Hayen indi- 

di tre Pellegrini, printed at Florence early in 
the sixteenth century, D'Ancona, Sacre Rap- 
presentazioni, ni, 465 ; Ludus Sancti Jacobi, 
fragment de myst^re proven9ale, Camille Ar- 
naud, 1858.J 

Nicolas Bertrand, before referred to, speaks 
of the miracle as depicted in churches and 
chapels of St James. It was, for example, 
painted by Pietro Antonio of Foligno, in the 
fifteenth century, in SS. Antonio e Jacopo at 
Assisi, and by Pisanello in the old church of 
the Tempio at Florence, and, in the next cen- 
tury, by Palmezzano in S. Biagio di S. Giro- 
lamo at Forli, and by Lo Spagna in a small 
chapel or tribune dedicated to St James, about 
four miles from Spoleto, on the way to Foligno. 
The same legend is painted on one of the lower 
windows of St Ouen, and again on a window 
of St Vincent, at Rouen. Many more cases 
might, no doubt, be easily collected. § 

It is not at all surprising that a miracle 
performed at San Domingo de la Calzada 
should, in the course of time, be at that place 
attributed to the patron of the locality ; and 
we actually find Luis de la Vega, in a life of 
this San Domingo published at Burgos in 
1606, repeating Marineo's story, very nearly, 
with a substitution of Dominic for James. || 
More than this, this author claims for this 
saint, who, saving reverence, is decidedly mi- 
norum gentium, the merit and glory of deliv- 
ering a captive from the Moors, wherein he, or 
tradition, makes free again with St James's 
rightful honors. The Moor, when told that the 
captive will some day be missing, rejoins. If 
you keep him as close as when I last saw him, 
he will as soon escape as this roast cock will 
fly and crow. It is obvious that this anecdote 
is a simple jumble of two miracles of St James, 

cated to Grundtvig the picture of Pietro Antonio, and d'An- 
cona refers to Pisanello's. 

II He denies the perpetual multiplication of the feathers, 
and adds that the very gallows on which the pilgrim was 
hanged is erected in the upper part of the church, where 
everybody can see it. It is diverting to find Grossenhain, in 
Saxony, claiming the miracle on the ground of a big cock 
in an altar picture in a chapel of St James: Grassc, Sagen- 
schatz des Konigreichs Sachsen, 2d ed., i, 80, No 82, from 
Chladenius, Materialien zu Grossenhayner Stadtchronik, i, 
2, Pirna, 1788; in verse by Ziehnert, Volkssagen, p. 99, No 
14, ed. 1851. 



the freeing of the captives, recounted in Acta 
Sanctorum, vi Julii, p. 47, § 190 f, and the 
saving the life of the young pilgrim.* 

The restoration of a roasted fowl to life is 
also narrated in Acta Sanctorum, I Septem- 
bris, p. 529, § 289, as occurring early in the 
eleventh century (the date assigned to the 
story of the pilgrims), at the table of St Ste- 
phen, the first king of Hungary. St Gunther 
■was sitting with the king while he was dining. 
The king pressed Gunther to partake of a 
roast peacock, but Gunther, as he was bound 
by his rule to do, declined. The king then 
ordered him to eat. Gunther bent his head 
and implored the divine mercy ; the bird flew 
up from the dish; the king no longer per- 
sisted. The author of the article, without 
questioning the reality of the mii-acle, well 
remarks that there seems to be something 
wrong in the story, since it is impossible that 
the holy king should have commanded the 
saint to break his vow. 

But the prime circumstances in the legend, 
the resuscitation of the cock, does not belong 

in the eleventh century, where Vincent and 
others have put it, but in the first, where it 
is put by the English and Scandinavian bal- 
lads. A French romance somewhat older than 
Vincent, Ogier le Danois, agrees with the later 
English ballad in making the occasion to be 
the visit of the Wise Men to Herod. Herod 
will not believe what they say, 

* Se cis capon que ci m'est en pr^sant 
N'en est plumeus com il estoit devant, 
Et se redrece h la perche en cantant.' 

w 11621-23. 

And what he exacts is performed for his con- 
viction .f Nevertheless, as we shall now see, 
the true epoch of the event is not the Na- 
tivity, but the Passion. 

The ultimate source of the miracle of the 
reanimated cock is an interpolation in two 
late Greek manuscripts of the so-called Gos- /^ 
pel of Nicodemus : Thilo, Codex Apocryphus 
Novi Testamenti, p. cxxix f; Tischendorf, 
Evangelia Apocrypha, p. 269, note 3. After 
Judas had tried to induce the Jews to take 

* For Luis de la Vega, see Acta Sanctorum, iii Maii, p. 
171 f, §§ 6, 7, 8, VI Julii, p. 46, § 187. The Spanish and the 
Dutch ballad give due glory to St James and the Virgin ; 
French C to God and St James. The Wendish ballad can 
hardly be expected to celebrate St James, and refers the jus- 
tification and saving of the boy to the Virgin and the saints. 
French A has St Michas ; B, God and the Virgin. 

Luis de la Vega, with what seems an excess of caution, 
says, p. 172, as above, § 8 : appositique erant ad comedendum 
gallus et gallina, assali nescio an elixi. Of boiled fowl we 
have not heard so far. But we find in a song in Fletcher's 
play of ' The Spanish Curate,' this stanza : 

The stewd cock shall crow, cock-a-loodle-loo, 

A loud cock-a-loodle shall he crow ; 
The duck and the drake shall swim in a lake 

Of onions and claret below. 

Act III, Sc. 2; Dyce, viii, 436. 

In Father Merolla's Voyage to Congo, 1682, a reference 
to which I owe to Liebrecht, there is a story of a stewed 
cock, which, on the whole, justifies Luis de la Vega's scruple. 
This must have been introduced into Africa by some mis- 
sioner, and, when so introduced, the miracle must have had 
an object, which it had lost before the tale came to Father 

One of two parties at fend having marched upon the chief 
city of his antagonist, and found all the inhabitants fled, the 
soldiers fell to rifling the houses and killing all the living 
creatures they met, to satisfy their hunger. " Amongst the 
rest they found a cock of a larger size than ordinary, with a 
great ring of iron about one of his legs, which occasioned 

one of the wisest among them to cry out. Surely this cock 
must be bewitched, and it is not at all proper for us to med- 
dle with. To which the rest answered. Be it what it will, 
we are resolved to eat it. For this end they immediately 
killed and tore it to pieces after the manner of the negroes, 
and afterwards put it into a pot to boil. When it was 
enough, they took it out into a platter, and two, according 
to the custom, having said grace, five of them sat down to 
it with great greediness. But before they had touched a bit, 
to their great wonder and amazement, the boiled pieces of 
the cock, though sodden, and near dissolved, began to move 
about and unite into the form they were in before, and, being 
so united, the restored cock immediately raised himself up, 
and jumped out of the platter upon the ground, where he 
walked about as well as when he was first taken. After- 
wards he leaped upon an adjoining wall, where he became 
new feathered all of a sudden, and then took his flight to a 
tree hard by, where fixing himself, he, after three claps of 
his wings, made a most hideous noise, and then disappeared. 
Every one may easily imagine what a terrible fright the 
spectators were in at this sight, who, leaping with a thousand 
Ave Marias in their mouths from the place where this had 
happened, were contented to observe most of the particulars 
at a distance." It appears that the brother of one of the two 
contending parties was said to have had a very large cock, 
from whose crowing he took auguries, but whether this was 
the same as the one restored to life is not known. Church- 
ill's Collection ol Voyages and Travels, 1704, i, 682, Pinker- 
ton's Collection, xvi, 229. 

t La Chevalerie Ogier de Danemarche, par Raimbert de 
Paris, Poeme du xii sifecle, etc., ii, 485, vv 11606-627. 



back the thirty pieces, he went to his house 
to hang himself, and found his wife sitting 
there, and a cock roasting on a spit before the 
coals. He said to his wife, Get me a rope, for 
I mean to hang myself, as I deserve. His wife 
said to him, Why do you say such things? 
And Judas said to her, Know in truth that I 
have betrayed my master Jesus to evil-doers, 
who will put him to death. But he will rise 
on the third day, and woe to us. His wife 
said. Do not talk so nor believe it ; for this 
cock that is roasting before the coals will as 
soon crow as Jesus rise again as you say. And 
even while she was speaking the words, the 
cock flapped his wings and crew thrice. Then 
Judas was still more persuaded, and straight- 
way made a noose of the rope and hanged 

The Cursor Mundi gives its own turn to 
this relation, with the intent to blacken Judas 
a little more.f When Judas had betrayed 
Jesus, he went to his mother with his pence, 
boasting of the act. " Hast thou sold thy 
master ? " said she. " Shame shall be thy 
lot, for they will put him to death ; but he 
shall rise again." "Rise, mother?" said Ju- 
das, " sooner shall this cock rise up that was 
scalded yesternight." 

Hardly had he said the word, 

The cock leapt up and flew, 
Feathered fairer than before, 

And by God's grace he crew ; 
The traitor false began to fear, 

His perU well he knew. 
This cock it was the self-same cock 

Which Peter made to rue, 
When he had thrice denied his lord 

And proved to him untrue. 

A still different version existed among the 
Copts, who had their copies of the apocryphal 

• The gospel of Nicodemus was introduced into the 
French and the Italian romance of Perceforest, but unfortu- 
nately this "narratio ab inepto Graecnlo pessime interpo- 
lata " (Thilo) seems to be lacking. 

t Cursor Mundi, a Northumbrian poem of the 14th cen- 
tury, in four versions, ed. by R. Morris, p. 912 f, vv 15961- 
998. This passage was kindly pointed out to me by Profes- 
sor George Stephens. 

t Relation d'an Voyage fait au Levant par Monsieur De 

writings, and among them the gospel of Nico- 

The Copts say, according to Th^venot, 
" that on the day of the Supper a roasted 
cock was served to our Lord, and that when 
Judas went out to sell Jesus to the Jews, the 
Saviour commanded the cock to* get up and 
follow him ; which the cock did, and brought 
back his report to our Lord that Judas had 
sold him, for which service this cock shall be 
admitted to paradise." | 

The herald of the morn is described in 
other carols as making known the birth of 
the Saviour to the animal creation, or the 
more familiar members of it. 

" There is a sheet of* carols headed thus : 
' Christus natus est, Christ is born,' with 
a wood-cut ten inches high by eight and one 
half inches wide, representing the stable at 
Bethlehem ; Christ in the crib, watched by 
the Virgin and Joseph; shepherds kneeling;* 
angels attending ; a man playing on the bag- 
pipes ; a woman with a basket of fruit on her 
head ; a sheep bleating and an ox lowing on 
the ground ; a raven croaking and a crow 
cawing on the hay-rack ; a cock crowing above 
them ; and angels singing in the sky. The 
animals have labels from their mouths, bearing 
Latin inscriptions. Down the side of the wood- 
cut is the following account and explanation : 
' A religious man, inventing the conceits of 
both birds and beasts, drawn in the picture of 
our Saviour's birth, doth thus express them. 
The cock croweth Christus natus est, Christ is 
born. The raven asked Quando, When ? The 
crow replied, ffac node, This night. The ox 
cryeth out, Ubi, uhi ? Where, where ? The 
sheep bleated out, Bethlehem, Bethlehem. A 
voice from heaven sounded, Gloria in excelsis. 
Glory be on high ! ' " London, 1701. Hone's 
Every-Day Book, i, col. 1600 f. 

The'venot, Paris, 1665, i, 502. Cited by Thilo, p. xxxvii, 
and by Victor Smith, Romania, ii, 474, who adds : " Parmi 
les manuscrits rapportes d'jfethiopie par M. d'Abbadie, il se 
trouve un volume dont le titre a pour equivalent, Actes de la 
passion. Un chapitre de ce volume, intitule Le livre ducoq, 
de'veloppe la le'gende indiquee par Thevenot. Catalogue 
raisonne des manuscrits ^thiopiens, appartenant ^ M. A. T. 
d'Abbadie, in 4°, imp. imperiale, Paris, 1859." 



So in Vieux Noels fran^ais, in Les Noels 
Bressans, etc., par Philibert Le Due, p. 145. 

Joie des Bestes 

h, la nouvelle de la naissance du Sauveur. 

Comme les Bestes autrefois 
Parloient mieiix latin que fran9ois, 
Le Coq, de loin voyant le faict, 
S'^cria : Christus natus est ; 
Le Bceuf, d'un air tout ebaiibi, 
Demande : Uhi, ubi, ubi ? 
La Chevre, se torchant le groin, 
Respond que c'est k Bethleem ; 
Maistre Baudet, curiosus 
De I'aUer voir, dit : Eamus ; 
Et, droit sur ses pattes, le Veau 
Beugle deux fois : Volo, volo.* 

And again, in Italian, Bolza, Canzoni popo- 
lari comasche, p. 654, No 30 : 

H Gallo. E nato Gesu ! 

II Bue. In dova ? 

. La Pecora. Betlem ! Betlem ! 

L'Asino. Andem ! Andem ! Andem ! 

A little Greek ballad, ' The Taking of Con- 
stantinople,' only seven lines long, relates a 
miracle entirely like that of the cock, which 
was operated for the conviction of incredulity. 
A nun, frying fish, hears a voice from above, 
saying, Cease your frying, the city will fall 
into the hands of the Turks. *' When the fish 
fly out of the pan alive," she says, "then shall 

the Turks take the city." The fish fly out of 
the pan alive, and the Turkish admiraud comes 
riding into the city. Zambelios, p. 600, No 
2 ; Passow, p. 147, No 197. (Liebrecht, Volks- 
kunde, p. 179.) 

With Herod's questions and Stephen's an- 
swers in stanzas 5-8, we may compare a pas- 
sage in some of the Greek ballads cited under 
No 17, p. 199. 

S^XaySe, Travois ; o-KXaySe, 8u/ro 9 ; fx-rj to if/oifu (Tov Xciirei ; 
ISiKXdfie, Trava?; a-Kkd^e, Sti/^as; otkAci^c, Kpaalv crow 
AetVei ; 

Lakkyt ]7e eyper mete or drynk ? 
Mi^e TTCivou, /x^re SlxJ/w, iirfrt tj/di/xl [Kpaaiv] fiov Xcittcu 
Lakit me neyper mete ne drynk. 

Jeannaraki, p. 203, No 265 : 
Sakellarios, p. 37, No 13. 
SkXcxjSc, TTCtms; a-Kkd^e, Sti/'as; a-KXdfie, poya <tov 

XetTTCi ; 
SkXoi/Sc, 7r€ims ; (TKXa/Se, Suj/a^ ; o-/cXa)Se fiov pov)(<i 
^eXcts ; 

Lakkyt pe eyper gold or fe. 
Or ony ryche wede ? 

OvT€ TTCtVO), OVT€ 8l\J/(x), OVTC poytt flOV XcilTCt. 

Mt/tc TTeivw, fJi-TfTi 8uf/<i), firJTe KOL pov)(a dcXok 

Lakyt me neyper gold ne fe, 

Ne non ryche wede. 
Tommaseo, iii, 154 ; Passow, p. 330, No 449 : 
Tommaseo, iii, 152 ; Zambelios, p. 678, No 

103 ; Passow, No 448. 

A Danish translation of the English bal- 
lad is printed in Dansk Kirketidende for 1852, 
p. 254 (Grundtvig). Danish A is translated 
by Dr Prior, I, 398. 

Sloane MS., 2593, fol. 22 b, British Museum.'^ 

1 SETiVT Steuene was a clerk in kywg Herowdes 

And seruyd him of bred and clo]?, as euery 
kyng befaUe. 

2 SteuyTZ. out of kechone cam, -wi/th boris hed on 

honde ; 
He saw a sterre was fayr and bryjt ouer Bed- 
lem stowde. 

* " Ce couplet se debite en imitant successivement le chant 
du coq, le mugissement du bceuf, le cri de la chevre, le 


3 He kyst adoim J)e boris hed and went in to 

pe haUe : 
' I forsak pe, kyng Herowdes, and pi werk«« 

4 ' I forsak pe, kywg Herowdes, and \>i werkes 

aUe ; 
|)er is a chyld in Bedlem born is beter paw 
we alle.' 

5 * Q;uat eylyt pe, Steuene ? quat is pe befalle ? 

braiment de I'ane, et le beuglement du veau." Bolza makes 
a similar explanation with regard to the Italian colloquy. 


23. JUDAS 

Lakkyt pe eyj>er mete or drynk in kyng Her- 
owdes hcUle ? * 

6 ' Lakit me neyper mete ne drynk m kjng Her- 

owdes halle ; 
f>er is a chyld in Bedlem born is beter p&n we 

7 Qua* eylyt pe, Steuyn? art pu wod, or pu 

gywnyst to brede ? 
Lakkyt J)e eyj>er gold or fe, or ony ryche 

8 ' Lakyt me ney]>er gold ne f e, ne non ryche 

wede ; 
per is a chyld in Bedlew bom xal helpyw vs 
at our nede.' 

9 ' pat is al so soJ>, Steuyn, al so soj), iwys, 
As J)is capouw crowe xal "pat lyp here in myn 

10 pat word was not so sone seyd, Jjat word in 

J>at halle, 
pe capouw crew Cristus natus est ! among pe 
lordes aUe. 

11 Rysyt vp, myn turmewtowres, be to and al be 

And ledyt Steuyn. out of pis town, and stonyt 
hym wyth ston ! * 

12 Tokyn he Steuene, and stonyd hym in the 

And pertoTB is his euyn on Crystes owyn day. 

l^ 5^ be faUe. 
3^. a doun. 3^, 4}. for sak. 
5^. There is room only for the h at the end of 
the line. 

9\ also . . . also . 
10^. a mong. 

. I wys. 9^^. dych. 


MS. B. 14, 39, of the thirteenth century, library of Trinity College, Cambridge, as printed in Wright & Halli- 

well's Reliquiffi Antiquae, i, 144. 

This legend, which has not been heretofore 
recognized as a ballad, is, so far as is known, 
unique in several particulars. The common 
tradition gives Judas an extraordinary domes- 
tic history,* but does not endow him with a 
sister as perfidious as himself. Neither is his 
selling his Master for thirty pieces accounted 
for elsewhere as it is here, if it may be strictly 
said to be accounted for here. 

A popular explanation, founded upon John 
xii, 3-6, and current for six centuries and 

more, is that Judas, bearing the bag, was ac- 
customed to take tithes of all moneys that 
came into his hands, and that he considered 
he had lost thirty pence on the precious oint- 
ment which had not been sold for three hun- 
dred pence, and took this way of indemnify- 
ing himself. 

A Wendish ballad, Haupt und Schmaler, i, 
276, No 284, has the following story. Jesus 
besought hospitality for himself and his disci- 
ples of a poor widow. She could give a lodg- 

* Legenda Aurea, Grasse, 2d ed., p. 184 ff; Mone's An- Poems and Lives of Saints, p. 107 ff; Douhet, Dictionnaire 
zeiger, vii, col. 532 f, and du Me'ril, Poe'sies populaires lat- des Ldgendes, col. 714 ff ; Das alte Passional, ed. K. A. Hahn, 
ines du Moyen Age, p. 326 ff ; Fumivall, Early English p. 312flF; Backstrom, Svenska Folkbocker, ii, 198flF; etc 

23. JUDAS 


ing, but had no bread. Jesus said he would 
care for that, and asked which of his disciples 
would go and buy bread for thirty pieces of 
silver. Judas offered himself eagerly, and 
went to the Jews' street to do his errand. 
Jews were gaming, under a tub, and they chal- 
lenged Judas to play. The first time he won 
the stake, and the second. The third time he 
lost everything. " Why so sad, Judas ? " they 
say : " go sell your Master for thirty pieces." 
We are to suppose Judas to have rejoined his 
company. Jesus then asks who has sold him. 
John says. Is it I ? and Peter, and then Judas, 
to whom Jesus replies. Thou knowest best. 
Judas, in remorse, runs to hang himself. The 
Lord bids him turn, for his sin is forgiven. 
But Judas keeps on till he comes to a fir : 
" Soft wood, thou fir, thou wilt not bear me." 
Further on, till he comes to an aspen. " Hard 
wood, thou aspen, thou wilt bear me." So he 
hanged himself on the aspen; and still the 
aspen shakes and trembles for fear of the 
judgment day. 

According to the ballads, then, Judas lost 
the thirty pieces at play, or was robbed of 
them, with collusion of his sister. But his 
passionate behavior in the English ballad, st. 
9, goes beyond all apparent occasion. Surely 
it was not for his tithe of the thirty pieces. 

And why does he insist to Pilate on the very 
thirty pieces he had lost, rejecting every other 
form of payment ? The ballad-singer might 
answer. So it was, and rest contented. Or 
perhaps he might have heard, and might tell 
us by way of comment, that these pieces had 
for long ages been destined to be " the price of 
him that was valued, whom they of the chil- 
dren of Israel did value ; " had been coined by 
Abraham's father for Ninus, and been given 
by Terah to his son ; had passed through va- 
rious hands to the Ishmaelites, had been paid 
by them as the price of Joseph, and been re- 
paid to Joseph by his brethren for corn in 
Egypt ; thence were transferred to Sheba, and 
in the course of events were brought by the 
Queen of the South as an offering to Solo- 
mon's temple ; when the temple was despoiled 
by Nebuchadnezzar, were given by him to the 
king of Godolia, and after the kingdom of 
Godolia had been fused in that of Nubia, were 
brought as his tribute to the infant Jesus by 
Melchior, king of the same, etc.* 

It is much to be regretted that the manu- 
script from which this piece was taken has 
been for some years lost from Trinity College 
Library, so that a coUation of Wright's text 
has not been possible. 

1 Hit wes upon a Scere-thorsday that ure loverd 

Ful milde were the wordes he spec to Judas. 

2 ' Judas, thou most to Jurselem, oure mete for 

to bugge ; 
Thritti platen of selver thou here up othi rugge. 

3 ' Thou comest fer ithe brode stret, f er ithe 

brode strete ; 
Summe of thine tunesmen ther thou meiht 

5 ' Judas, thou were wrthe me stende the wid 

For the false prophete that tou bilevest upon.' 

6 ' Be stille, leve soster, thin herte the tobreke ! 
Wiste min loverd Crist, ful wel he wolde be 


7 'Judas, go thou on the roc, heie upon the 

Lei thin heved imy barm, slep thou the 


Imette wid is soster, the swikele wimon. 

* See Fabricius, Codex Pseudepigraphns Veteris Testa- 
ment!, II, 79 ; Godfrey of Viterbo (who derives his informa- 
tion from a lost writing of the apostle Bartholomew) in his 

8 Sone so Judas of slepe was awake, 

Thritti platen of selver from hym weren itake. 

Pantheon, Pistorius, German. Script., ed. Stmve, ii, 243, 
or E. du Menl, Poe'sies pop. latines du Moyen Age, p. 321 ; 
Geneai de Scriptura, Biblioteca Catalana, p. 20, etc. 



9 He drou hymselve bi the cop, that al it lavede 13 In him com ur lord Crist gon, as is postles 

a blode ; 
The Jewes out of Jurselem awenden he were 

10 Foret hym com the riche Jeu that heihte Pi- 

latus : 

* Wolte sulle thi loverd, that hette Jesus ? ' 

11 'I nid sulle my loverd [for] nones cunnes 

Bote hit be for the thritti platen that he me 

12 'Wolte sulle thi lord Crist for enes cunnes 


* Nay, bote hit be for the platen that he habben 


seten at mete : 
' "Wou sitte ye, postles, ant wi nule ye ete ? 

14 [' Wou sitte ye, postles, ant wi nule ye ete ?] 
Ic am ibouht ant isold today for ouxe mete.' 

15 Up stod him Judas : * Lord, am I that . . . ? 
* I nas never othe stude ther me the evel spec' 

16 Up him stod Peter, and spec wid al is mihte, 

17 ' Thau Pilatus him come wid ten hundred 

Yet ic wolde, loverd, for thi love fihte.' 

18 ' Still thou be, Peter, wel I the icnowe ; 
Thou wolt fursake me thrien ar the coc him 


Not divided into stanzas in Reliquice Antiques. 
^^. meist. 
10^ heiste. 

11\ eiste. ll**. bitaiste. 
14^ i-boust. 
16^. miste. 

n\ cnistes. IV. fiste. 
In the absence of the original manuscript, I have 
thought it better to change Wright's s in the 
above instances (3-17) to h. In this substitu- 
tion I follow Mdtzner's Altenglische Sprachpro- 
hen, J, 114. 



A. 'Bonnie Annie,' Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Bal- B. 'The High Banks o Yarrow,' Motherwell's MS., 
lads, p. 123. p. 652. 

Had an old copy of this still pretty and 
touching, but much disordered, ballad been 
saved, we should perhaps have had a story 
like this. Bonnie Annie, having stolen her 
father's gold and her mother's fee, and fled 
with her paramour (like the maid in No 4), 
the ship in which she is sailing encounters a 
atorm and cannot get on. Annie is seized 
with the pangs of travail, and deplores the ab- 

sence of women (B 6, 7, A 9, 10 ; compare No 
15, 21-26). The sailors say there is some- 
body on board who is marked for death, or fly- 
ing from a just doom. They cast lots, and the 
lot falls on Annie, — a result which strikes us 
as having more semblance of the " corrupted 
currents of this world " than of a pure judg- 
ment of God. Annie, conscious only of her 
own guilt, asks to be thrown overboard. Her 



paramour offers great sums to the crew to save 
her, but their efforts prove useless, and Annie 
again begs, or they now insist, that she shall 
be cast into the sea with her babe. This done, 
the ship is able to sail on ; Annie floats to 
shore and is buried there. 

The captain of the ship is the guilty man 
in A, in B a rich squire. A may exhibit the 
original plot, but it is just as likely that the 
captain was substituted for a passenger, un- 
der the influence of another ballad, in which 
there is no Annie, but a ship-master stained 
with many crimes, whom the lot points out as 
endangering or obstructing the vessel. See 
* Brown Robyn's Confession,' further on. 

If the narrative in Jonah, i, is the ultimate 
source of this and similar stories, it must be 
owned that the tradition has maintained its 
principal traits in this ballad remarkably well. 
Jonah flies from the presence of the Lord in a 
ship ; the ship is overtaken by a tempest ; * 
the sailors cast lots to know who is the guilty 
cause, and the lot falls on Jonah ; he bids 
the sailors take him up and cast him into the 
sea; nevertheless the men row hard to bring 
the ship to land, but cannot succeed ; they 
throw Jonah into the water, and the storm 

Translated in Grundtvig's Engelske og 
skotske Folkeviser, p. 199, No 31. 

Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 123. 

1 There was a rich lord, and he lived in Forfar, 
He had a fair lady, and one only dochter. 

2 O she was fair, dear, she was bonnie ! 

A ship's captain courted her to be his honey. 

3 There cam a ship's captain out owre the sea 

He courted this young thing till he got her wi 

4 ' Te '11 steal your father's gowd, and your 

mother's money, 
And I '11 mak ye a lady in Ireland bonnie.' 

5 She 's stown her father's gowd, and her moth- 

er's money, 
But she was never a lady in Ireland boimie. 
* * * * * 

6 ' There 's fey fowk in our ship, she winna sail 

for me, 
There 's fey fowk in our ship, she winna sail 
for me.' 

* Jonah is asleep below. This trait we find in several 
Norse ballads : see ' Brown Robyn's Confession.' 

t A singular episode in the life of Saint Mary Magdalen 
in the Golden Legend, Grasse, c. xcvi, 2, p. 409 ff, indicates 
a belief that even a dead body might prejudice the safety of 
a ship. The princess of Marseilles, in the course of a storm, 
has given birth to a boy and expired. The sailors demand 
that the body shall be thrown into the sea (and apparently 

7 They 've casten black bullets twice six and 
And ae the black bullet fell on bonnie An- 

8 ' Ye '11 tak me in your arms twa, lo, lift me 

Throw me out owre board, your ain dear An- 

9 He has tane her in his arms twa, lo, lifted her 

He has laid her on a bed of down, his ain dear 

10 ' What can a woman do, love, I Tl do for 

' Muckle can a woman do, ye canna do for 

11 ' Lay about, steer about, lay our ship cannie, 
Do all ye can to save my dear Annie.' 

12 * I 've laid about, steerd about, laid about can- 

But all I can do, she winna sail for me. 

the boy, too), for, they say, as long as it shall be with ns, 
this thumping will not cease. They presently see a hill, and 
think it better to put off the corpse, and the boy, there, than 
that these should be devoured by sea-monsters. Fear vrill 
fasten upon anything in such a case. 

The Digby Mystery of Mary Magdalene has this scene, 
at p. 122 of the New Shakspere Society edition, ed. Fumi- 



13 * Ye '11 tak her in your arms twa, lo, lift her 15 As the ship sailed, bonnie Annie she swam, 

cannie, And she was at Ireland as soon as them. 

And throw her out owre board, your ain dear 

Annie.' 16 He made his love a coffin of the gowd sae yel- 

14 He has tane her in his arms twa, lo, lifted her And buried his bonnie love doun in a sea val- 

cannie, ley. 

He has thrown her out owre board, his ain dear 


Motherwell's MS., p. 652. From the singing of a boy, 
Henry French, Ayr. 

1 Down in Dumbarton there wound a rich mer- 


Down in Dumbarton there wond a rich mer- 

And he had nae family but ae only dochter. 

Sing fal lal de deedle, fal lal de deedle lair, 
O a day 

2 There cam a rich squire, intending to woo 

He wooed her until he had got her wi babie. 

3 * Oh what shall I do ! oh what shall come o 

Baith father and mither will think naething o 

4 * Gae up to your father, bring down gowd and 
And I '11 take ye ower to a braw Irish la- 

8 ' Gae wash your hands in the cauld spring 

And dry them on a towel a' giltit wi silver. 

9 ' And tak me by the middle, and lift me up 

And throw me ower shipboard, baith me and 
my babie.' 

10 He took her by the middle, and lifted her 

And threw her ower shipboard, baith her and 
her babie. 

11 Sometimes she did sink, sometimes she did 

float it, 
Until that she cam to the high banks o Yarrow. 

12 ' O captain tak gowd, O sailors tak money. 
And launch out your sma boat till I sail for my 


13 ' How can I tak gowd, how can I tak money ? 
My ship 's on a sand bank, she winna sail for 


6 She gade to her father, brought down gowd 
and money, 
And she 's awa ower to a braw Irish ladie. 

14 The captain took gowd, the sailors took money. 
And they launchd out their sma boat tUl he 
sailed for his honey. 

6 She hadna sailed far till the young thing cried 

' Women ! ' 
* What women can do, my dear, I '11 do for 

7 ' O hand your tongue, foolish man, dinna talk 

For ye never kent what a woman driet for 

15 ' Mak my love a coffin o the gowd sae yellow, 
Whar the wood it is dear, and the planks they 

are narrow. 
And bury my love on the high banks o Yar- 

16 They made her a coffin o the gowd sae yellow. 
And buried her deep on the high banks o Yar- 



A. Printed by Kinloch in four-line stanzas. 
16^. coffin off the Goats of Yerrow. 

B. 16. Motherwell, Minstrelsy, p. xcix, 146, gives 
the stanza thus : 

They made his love a coffin of the gowd sae 

They made his love a coffin of the gowd 

sae yeUow, 
And they buried her deep on the high 

banks of Yarrow. 
Sing fal lal, de deedle, fal lal, de deedle 

lair. Oh a Day ! 



A. • Willie, Willie,' Kinloch's MSS, i, 53. 

C. Motherweirs MS., p. 187. 

B. a. ' Blue Flowers and Yellow,' Buchan's Ballads of D. * Amang the blue flowers and yellow,' Motherwell's 
the North of Scotland, i, 185. b. ' The Blue Flow- Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xix. No xvii, one stanza, 

ers and the Yellow,' Christie, Traditional Ballad 
Airs, I, 120. 

This piece was first printed by Buchan, in 
1828, and all the copies which have been re- 
covered are of about that date. The device 
of a lover's feigning death as a means of win- 
ning a shy mistress enjoys a considerable pop- 
ularity in European ballads. Even more fa- 
vorite is a ballad in which the woman adopts 
this expedient, in order to escape from the con- 
trol of her relations : see ' The Gay Goshawk,' 
with which will be given another form of the 
present story. 

A Danish ballad answering to our Feigned 
Lyke-Wake is preserved, as I am informed 
by Professor Grundtvig, in no less than four- 
teen manuscripts, some of them of the 16th 
century, and is still living in tradition. Five 
versions, as yet unprinted, A-B, have been 
furnished me by the editor of the Ballads of 

A, from a manuscript of the sixteenth cen- 
tury. Young Herre Karl asks his mother's 
rede how he may get the maid his heart is 
set upon. She advises him to feign sickness, 
and be laid on his bier, no one to know his 

counsel but the page who is to do his errands. 
The page bids the lady to the wake that night. 
Little Kirstin asks her mother's leave to keep 
wake over Karl. The wake is to be in the 
upper room of Karl's house. The mother says, 
Be on your guard ; he means to cheat you ; 
but Kirstin, neither listening to her mother 
nor asking her father, goes to keep wake in 
the upper room. When she went in she could 
not see the lights for her tears. She begged 
all the good people to pray for Karl's soul, sat 
down by his head and made her own prayer, 
and murmured. While thou livedst I loved 
thee. She lifted the cloths, and there lay Karl 
wide awake and laughing. " All the devils in 
hell receive thy soul ! " she cried. " If thou 
livedst a hundred years, thou shouldst never 
have my good will ! " Karl proposed that she 
should pass the night with him. " Why would 
you deceive me ! " Kirstin exclaimed. " Why 
did you not go to my father and betroth me 
honorably ? " Karl immediately rode to her 
father's to do this, and they were married. 
B. a, from MSS of 1610 and later, almost 



identical with b, ' Den forstilte Vaagestue,' 
Levninger, Part n, 1784, p. 34, No 7.* This 
version gives us some rather unnecessary pre- 
vious history. Karl has sued for Ingerlille 
three years, and had an ill answer. He fol- 
lows her to church one fine day, and, after 
mass, squeezes her fingers and asks. Will you 
take pity on me ? She replies. You must ask 
my father and friends ; and he, I have, and 
can get no good answer. If you will give 
me your troth, we can see to that best our- 
selves. " Never," she says. " Farewell, then ; 
but Christ may change your mind." Karl 
meets his mother on his way from church, 
who asks why he is so pale. He tells her 
his plight, and is advised, as before, to use 
craft. The wake is held on Karl's premises.! 
Ingerlille, in scarlet mantle, goes with her 
maids. She avows her love, but adds that it 
was a fixed idea in her mind that he would 
deceive her. She lifts up the white cloth that 
covers the face. Karl laughs, and says. We 
were good friends before, so are we still. Bear 
out the bier, and follow me to bed with the 
fair maid. She hopes he will have respect 
for her honor. Karl reassures her, leaves her 
with his mother, rides to Ingerlille's house, 
obtains her parents' approbation, and buys 
wine for his wedding. 

C, from manuscripts of the sixteenth cen- 
tury. Karl is given out for dead, and his 
pages ride to the convent to ask that his body 
may be laid in the cloister. The bier is borne 
in ; the prioress comes to meet it, with much 
respect. The pages go about bidding maids 
to the wake. Ellin asks her mother if she 
may go. (This looks as if there had origi- 
nally been no convent in the ballad.) Her 
mother tells her to put on red gold and be 
wary of Karl, he is so very tricky. When 
Ellin owns her attachment, Karl whispers 
softly, Do not weep, but follow me. Horses 
were ready at the portal — black horses all ! 

Karl sprang from the bier, took Ellin, and 
made for the door. The nuns, who stood read- 
ing in the choir, thought it was an angel that 
had translated her, and wished one would 
come for them. Karl, with fifteen men who 
were in waiting, carried Ellin home, and drank 
his bridal with her. 

D, from recent oral tradition. As Karl lay 
in his bed, he said. How shall I get the fair 
maid out of the convent ? His foster-mother 
heard him, and recommended him to feign 
death and bid the fair maid to his wake. The 
maid asked her father's leave to go, but he 
said, Nay, the moment you are inside the door 
he will seize you by the foot. But when the 
page, who had first come in blue, comes back 
in scarlet, she goes. She stands at Karl's head 
and says, I never shall forget thee ; at his feet, 
"I wished thee well;" at his side, "Thou, 
wast my dearest." Then she turns and bids 
everybody good-night, but Karl seizes her, 
and calls to his friends to come drink his 
bridal. We hear nothing of the convent after 
the first stanza. 

E, from oral tradition of another quarter. 
Karl consults his mother how he shall get lit- 
tle Kirstin out of the convent, and receives 
the same counsel. A page is sent to the con- 
vent, and asks who will come to the wake 
now Herr Karl is dead ? Little Kirstin, with- 
out application to the prioress, goes to her 
mother, who does not forbid her, but warns 
her that Karl will capture her as sure as she 
goes into the room. 

The maid has the door by the handle, 
And is wishing them all good-night ; 

Young Karl, that lay a corpse on the bier, 
Sprang up and held her tight. 

* Why here 's a board and benches, 
And there 's no dead body here ; 

This eve I '11 drink my mead and wine. 
All with my Kirstin dear. 

* But a has two stanzas more : the first a stev-stamme, 
or lyrical introduction (see p. 7), the other, 31, nearly a rep- 
etition of Sandvig's 29. 

t After the page has bidden Ingerlille to the wake, we are 
told, a 27, 28, b 26, 27 : all the convent bells were going, 

and the tidings spreading that the knight was dead ; all the 
ladies of the convent sat sewing, except Ingerlille, who wept. 
But Ingerlille, in the next stanza, puts on her scarlet cloak 
and goes to the hojeloft to see her father and mother. The 
two stanzas quoted signify nothing in this version. 



* Why here 's a board and beds too, 
And here there 's nobody dead ; 

To-morrow will I go to the priest, 
All with my plighted maid.' 

P, another copy from recent tradition, was 
published in 1875, in Kristensen's Jyske 
Folkeviser, n, 213, No 62, ' Vaagestuen.' 
There is no word of a convent here. The story 
is made very short. Kirsten's mother says 
she will be fooled if she goes to the wake. 
The last stanza, departing from all other copies, 
says that when Kirsten woke in the morning 
Karl was off. 

G. ' Klosterranet,' Levninger, I, 23, No 4 
(1780), Danske Viser, iv, 261, No 212, a very 
second-rate ballad, may have the praise of 
preserving consistency and conventual dis- 
cipline. The young lady does not slip out to 
see her mother without leave asked and had. 
It is my persuasion that the convent, with its 
little jest about the poor nuns, is a later in- 
vention, and that C is a blending of two dif- 
ferent stories. In G-, Herr Morten betroths 
Proud Adeluds, who is more virtuous than 
rich. His friends object ; her friends do not 
want spirit, and swear that she shall never be 
his. Morten's father sends him out of the 
country, and Adeluds is put into a convent. 
After nine years Morten returns, and, having 
rejected an advantageous match proposed by 
his father, advises with his brother, Herr Ni- 
laus, how to get his true love out of the clois- 
ter. The brother's plan is that of the mother 
and foster-mother in the other versions. Herr 
Nilaus promises a rich gift if Morten's body 
may be buried within the cloister. From this 
point the story is materially the same as in C. 

H. A copy, which I have not yet seen, 
in Rahbek's Lsesning i blandede ^mner (or 
Hesperus), in, 151, 1822 (Bergstrom). 

' Hertugen af Skage,' Danske Viser, ii, 191, 
No 88, has this slight agreement with the fore- 
going ballads. Voldemar, the king's youngest 
son, hearing that the duke has a daughter, 
Hildegerd, that surpasses all maids, seeks her 
out in a convent in which she has taken refuge, 
and gets a cold reception. He feigns death, 


desiring that his bones may repose in the 
cloister. His bier is carried into the convent 
church. Hildegerd lights nine candles for 
him, and expresses compassion for his early 
death. While she is standing before the altar 
of the Virgin, Voldemar carries her out of the 
church by force. 

This, says Afzelius, 1814, is one of the com- 
monest ballads in Sweden, and is often rep- 
resented as a drama by young people in coun- 
try places. A a, ' Herr Carl, eller Klosterrof- 
vet,' Afzelius, i, 179, No 26, new ed. No 24 ; 
b, Afzelius, Sago-Hafder, ed. 1851, IV, 106. 
B. Atterbom, Poetisk Kalender for 1816, p. 
63, ' Det lefvande Liket.' C. Rancken, N^gra 
Prof af Folksang, o. s. v., p. 13, No 4. These 
differ but slightly from Danish D, B. All 
three conclude with the humorous verses about 
the nuns, which in Rancken's copy take this 
rollicking turn : 

And all the nuns in the convent they all danced in 

a ring ; 
' Christ send another such angel, to take us all under 

his wing ! ' 

And aU the nuns in the convent, they all danced 
each her lone ; 

' Christ send another such angel, to take us o£E every- 

Bergstrom, new Afzelius, U, 131, refers to 
another version in Gyllenmars' visbok, p. 191, 
and to a good copy obtained by himself. 

An Icelandic version for the 17th century, 
which is after the fashion of Danish C, G, is 
given in Islenzk FornkvseSi, n, 59, No 40, 
' Marteins kvitJa.' The lover has in all three 
a troop of armed men in waiting outside of the 

Professor Bugge has obtained a version in 
Norway, which, however, is as to language 
essentially Danish. (Bergstrom, as above.) 

There is a very gay and pretty south-Eu- 
ropean ballad, in which the artifice of feigning 
death is successfully tried by a lover after the 
failure of other measures. 

A. Magyar. Arany and Gyulai, I, 172, 
No 18, ' Pdlbeli Sz^p Antal ; ' translated by 



Aigner, Ungarische Volksdichtungen, p. 80, 
* Schon Anton.' Handsome Tony tells his 
mother that he shall die for Helen. The 
mother says, Not yet. I will build a mar- 
vellous mill. The first wheel shall grind out 
pearls, the middle stone discharge kisses, the 
third wheel distribute ' small change. The 
pretty maids will come to see, and Helen 
among them. Helen asks her mother's leave 
to see the mill. " Go not," the mother replies. 
" They are throwing the net, and a fox will 
be caught." Tony again says he must die. 
His mother says, not yet ; for she will build 
an iron bridge ; the girls will come to see it, 
and Helen among them. Helen asks to see 
the bridge ; her mother answers as before. 
Tony says once more that he shall die for 
Helen. His mother again rejoins, Not yet. 
Make believe to be dead ; the girls will come 
to see you, and Helen among them. Helen 
entreats to be allowed to go to see the hand- 
some young man that has died. Her mother 
tells her she will never come back. Tony's 
mother calls to him to get up ; the girl he was 
dying for is even now before the gate, in the 
court, standing at his feet. "Never," says 
Helen, " saw I so handsome a dead man, — 
eyes smiling, mouth tempting kisses, and his 
feet all ready for a spring." Up he jumped 
and embraced her. 

B. Italian. Ferraro, Canti popolari mon- 
ferrini, p. 59, No 40, 'II Genovese.' The 
Genoese, not obtaining the beautiful daughter 
of a rich merchant on demand, plants a gar- 
den. All the girls come for flowers, except 
the one desired. He then gives a ball, with 
thirty -two musicians. All the girls are there, 
but not the merchant's daughter. He then 
builds a church, very richly adorned. All the 
girls come to mass, all but one. Next he sets 

the bells a ringing, in token of his death. The 
fair one goes to the window to ask who is 
dead. The good people (" ra bun-ha gent," 
in the Danish ballad " det gode folk ") tell 
her that it is her first love, and suggest that 
she should attend the funeral. She asks her 
father, who consents if she will not cry. As 
she was leaving the church, the lover came to 
life, and called to the priests and friars to stop 
singing. They went to the high altar to be 

C. Slovenian. Vraz, Narodne pesni ilirske, 
p. 93, ' Cudna bolezen ' (' Strange Sickness ') ; 
translated by Anastasius Griin, Volkslieder 
aus Krain, p. 36, ' Der Scheintodte.' " Build 
a church, mother," cries the love-sick youth, 
" that all who will may hear mass ; perhaps 
my love among them." The mother built a 
church, one and another came, but not his 
love. " Dig a well, mother, that those who 
will may fetch water ; perhaps my love among 
them." The well was dug, one and another 
came for water, but not his love. " Say I am 
dead, mother, that those who will may come 
to pray." Those who wished came, his love 
first of all. The youth was peeping through 
the window. "What kind of dead man is 
this, that stretches his arras for an embrace, 
and puts out his mouth for a kiss ?" 

Danish G translated by the Rev. J. John- 
stone, ' The Robbery of the Nunnery, or. 
The Abbess Outwitted,' Copenhagen, 1786 
(Danske Viser, iv, 366) ; by Prior, in, 400. 
Swedish A, by G. Stephens, For. Quar. Rev., 
1841, XXVI, 49, and by the Howitts, Lit. and 
Rom. of Northern Europe, I, 292. English 
C, by Rosa Warrens, Schottische V. 1., p. 144, 
No 33. 

Kinloch's MSS, i, 53, from the recitation of Mary Barr, 
Lesmahagow, aged upwards of seventy. May, 1827. 

1 ' Willie, Willie, 1 11 learn you a wile,' 

And the sun shines over the valleys and a' 

* How this pretty fair maid ye may beguile.' 
Amang the blue flowrs and the yellow 
and a' 

2 ' Ye maun He doun just as ye were dead, 
And tak your winding-sheet around your head. 



3 ' Ye maun gie the bellman his hell-groat, 
To ring your dead-bell at your lover's yett.' 

4 He lay doun just as he war dead, 

And took his winding-sheet round his head. 

5 He gied the bellman his beU-groat, 

To ring his dead-bell at his lover's yett. 

6 ' O wha is this that is dead, I hear ? ' 

* wha but Willie that loed ye sae dear.* 

7 She is to her father's chamber gone, 
And on her knees she 's fallen down. 

8 ' O father, father, ye maun grant me 

this ; 
I hope that ye will na tak it amiss. 

9 * That I to Willie's burial should go ; 
For he is dead, full well I do know.' 

10 ' Ye '11 tak your seven bauld brethren wi thee. 
And to Willie's burial straucht go ye.' 

11 It 's whan she cam to the outmost yett. 
She made the silver fly round for his sake. 

12 It 's whan she cam to the inmost yett, 

She made the red gowd fly round for his sake. 

13 As she walked frae the court to the parlour 

The pretty corpse syne began for to steer. 

14 He took her by the waist sae neat and sae sma, 
And threw her atween him and the wa. 

16 ' WiUie, O Willie, let me alane this nicht, 
let me alane till we're wedded richt.' 

16 * Ye cam unto me baith sae meek and mild, 
But I 'U mak ye gae hame a wedded wife wi 

a. Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, i, 185. b. 
Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, i, 120. 

1 ' O Willie my son, what makes you sae sad ? ' 

As the sun shines over the valley 

* I lye sarely sick for the love of a maid.' 

Amang the blue flowers and the yellow 

2 * Were she an heiress or lady sae free. 
That she wiU take no pity on thee ? 

3 ' O Willie, my son, I '11 learn you a wile, 
How this fair maid ye may beguile. 

4 ' Ye 'U gie the principal bellman a groat. 
And ye 'U gar him cry your dead lyke-wake.' 

5 Then he gae the principal bellman a groat. 
He bade him cry his dead lyke-wake. 

6 This maiden she stood till she heard it a', 
And down frae her cheeks the tears did fa. 

7 She is hame to her father's ain bower : 

* I '11 gang to yon lyke-wake ae single hour.' 

8 *Ye must take with you your ain brither 

It 's not meet for maidens to venture alone.* 

9 ' I 'U not take with me my brither John, 
But I '11 gang along, myself all alone.' 

10 When she came to young Willie's yate, 
His seven brithers were standing thereat. 

11 Then they did conduct her into the ha, 
Amang the weepers and merry mourners a'. 

12 When she lifted up the covering sae red, 
With melancholy countenance to look on the 


13 He 's taen her in his arms, laid her gainst the 

Says, ' Lye ye here, fair maid, till day.' 

14 '0 spare me, O spare me, but this single 

And let me gang hame a maiden sae bright.' 

15 ' Tho all your kin were about your bower. 
Ye shall not be a maiden ae single hour. 



16 * Fair maid, ye came here without a convoy, 
But ye shall return wi a horse and a hoy. 

17 * Ye came here a maiden sae mild, 

But ye shall gae hame a wedded wife with 

Motherwell's MS., p. 187. 

1 * Willie, Willie, what makes thee so sad ? ' 

And the sun shines over the valley 
* I have loved a lady these seven years and 

Down amang the blue flowers and the yel- 

2 * Willie, lie down as thou were dead, 
And lay thy winding-sheet down at thy head. 

3 ' And gie to the bellman a belling-great. 

To ring the dead-bell at thy love's bower-yett.' 

4 He laid him down as he were dead, 

And he drew the winding-sheet oer his head. 

5 He gied to the beUman a belling-great. 

To ring the dead-bell at his love's bower-yett. 


6 When that she came to her true lover's gate, 
She dealt the red gold and all for his sake. 

7 And when that she came to her true lover's 

She had not been there for the space of half an 

8 Till that she cam to her true lover's bed, 
And she lifted the winding-sheet to look at the 


9 He took her by the hand so meek and sma, 
And he cast her over between him and the wa. 

10 ' Tho all your friends were in the bower, 

1 would not let you go for the space of half an 

11 * You came to me without either horse or boy. 
But I will send you home with a merry con- 


Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xix. No xvii. 

* JOHNIE, dear Johnie, what makes ye sae 
sad ? ' 
As the sun shines ower the valley 

* I think nae music will mak ye glad.' 
Amang the blue flowers and the yellow 

B. b is a with stanzas 3, 12-15 omitted, and 
" a few alterations, some of them given from 
the recitation of an old woman." " Buchan's 
version differs little from the way the old 
woman sang the ballad." The old vJoman's 
variations^ so far as adopted, are certainly of 
the most trifling. 

\\ I am. 2^ Is she. 7^ And she. 
16\ Ye 've come. 16*. And ye. 


17. Evidently hy Christie : 

' Fair maid, I love thee as my life. 

But ye shall gae hame a lovd wedded wife.' 

Burden. The lines are transposed in the sec- 
ond stanza, hut are given in the third in the 
order of the first. 
3S 6^ MS. beUing great. 
11*. you come. 





a. Melismata. Musicall Fhansies. 
Cittie, and Countrey Humours. 
20.* [T. Ravenscroft.] 

Fitting the Court, 
London, 1611, No 

b. ' The Three Ravens,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, 
Appendix, p. xviii, No xii. 

a was printed from Melismata, by Ritson, 
in his Ancient Songs, 1790, p. 155. Mr. Chap- 
pell remarked, about 1855, Popular Music of 
the Olden Time, I, 59, that this ballad was 
still so popular in some parts of the country 
that he had " been favored with a variety of 
copies of it, written down from memory, and 
all differing in some respects, both as to words 
and tune, but with sufficient resemblance to 
prove a similar origin." Motherwell, Min- 
strelsy, Introduction, p. Ixxvii, note 49, says 
he had met with several copies almost the 
same as a. b is the first stanza of one of these 
(traditional) versions, " very popular in Scot- 

The following verses, first printed in the 
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, and known 
in several versions in Scotland, are treated by 
Motherwell and others as a traditionary form 
of ' The Three Ravens.' They are, however, 
as Scott says, "rather a counterpart than a 
copy of the other," and sound something like 
a cynical variation of the tender little English 
baUad. Dr Rimbault (Notes and Queries, 
Ser. V, ni, 518) speaks of unprinted copies 
taken down by Mr Blaikie and by Mr Thomas 
Lyle of Airth. 


a. Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, iii, 239, ed. 1803, 
communicated by C. K. Sharpe, as written down from tra- 
dition by a lady. b. Albyn's Anthology, ii, 27, 1818, " from 
the singing of Mr Thomas Shortreed, of Jedburgh, as sung 
and recited by his mother." c. Chambers's Scottish Bal- 
lads, p. 283, partly from recitation and partly from the Bor- 
der Minstrelsy, d. Fraser-Tytler MS., p. 70. 

* Misprinted 22. 

1 As I was walking all alane, 

I heard twa corbies making a mane ; 

The tane unto the t'other say, 

* Where sail we gang and dine to-day ? ' 

2 ' In behint yon auld fail dyke, 

I wot there lies a new slain knight ; 
And naebody kens that he lies there, 
But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair. 

3 * His hound is to the hunting gane, 
His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame, 
His lady 's ta'en another mate, 

So we may mak our dinner sweet. 

4 ' Ye '11 sit on his white hause-bane, 
And I 'U pike out his bonny blue een ; 
Wi ae lock o his gowden hair 

We 'U theek our nest when it grows bare. 

5 ' Mony a one for him makes mane. 
But nane sail ken where he is gane ; 
Oer his white banes, when they are bare, 
The wind sail blaw for evermair.' 

' The Three Ravens ' is translated by 
Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, 
p. 145, No 23 ; by Henrietta Schubart, p. 155 ; 
Gerhard, p. 95 ; Rosa Warrens, Schottische 
V. 1. der Vorzeit, p. 198 ; Wolff, Halle der 
Volker, i, 12, Hausschatz, p. 205. 

' The Twa Corbies ' (Scott), by Grundtvig, 
p. 143, No 22 ; Arndt, p. 224 ; Gerhard, p. 
94 ; Schubart, p. 157 ; Knortz, L. u. R. Alt- 
Englands, p. 194; Rosa Warrens, p. 89. The 
three first stanzas, a little freely rendered into 
four, pass for Pushkin's: Works, 1855, n, 
462, xxiv. 



1 There were three rauens sat on a tree, 
Downe a downe, hay down, hay downe 
There were three rauens sat on a tree. 

With a downe 
There were three rauens sat on a tree, 
They were as blacke as they might be. 

With a downe derrie, derrie, derrie, downe, 

6 ' His haukes they flie so eagerly, 
There 's no fowle dare him come nie.* 

6 Downe there comes a fallow doe, 

As great with yong as she might goe. 

7 She lift vp his bloudy hed. 

And kist his wounds that were so red. 

2 The one of them said to his mate, 
* Where shall we our breakef ast take ? ' 

8 She got him vp vpon her backe, 
And carried him to earthen lake. 

3 ' Downe in yonder greene field, 

There lies a knight slain vnder his shield. 

4 * His hounds they lie downe at his f eete. 
So well they can their master keepe. 

9 She buried him before the prime. 

She was dead herselfe ere euen-song time. 

10 God send euery gentleman, 

Such haukes, subh hotmds, and such a leman. 

b. Three ravens sat upon a tree, 

Hey down, hey derry day 
Three ravens sat upon a tree, 

Hey down 
Three ravens sat upon a tree. 
And they were black as black could be. 

And sing lay doo and la doo and day 

Variations of The Twa Corbies. 

b. 1. As I cam by yon auld house end, 
I saw twa corbies sittin thereon. 

2\ Whare but by yon new fa' en birk. 

3. We '11 sit upon his bonny breast-bane. 
And we'll pick out his bonny gray 

We '11 set our claws intil his yallow 

And big our bowr, it 's a' blawn bare. 

4. My mother clekit me o an egg. 

And brought me up i the feathers gray, 

And bade me flee whereer I wad, 
For winter wad be my dying day. 

5. Now winter it is come and past. 

And a' the birds are biggin their 

But I '11 flee high aboon them a'. 
And sing a sang for svmimer's sake. 

c. 1. As I gaed doun by yon hous-en, 

Twa corbies there were sittand their 
2-^. down beside yon new-faun birk. 
3^. His horse. 3^. His hounds to bring the 

wild deer hame. 
4. we '11 sit on his boimie breist-bane. 
And we'll pyke out his bonnie grey 
een. '* 

d. V: walking forth. 1*. the ither. 1'. we twa 
32. wild bird. 
h"^. naebody kens. 

6'. when we 've laid them bare. 6*. win 
may blaw. 




a. Motherwell's MS., p. 191. b. Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xvi, No iii. 

This ballad, if it ever were one, seems not commonplace in English and elsewhere : e. g., 

to have been met with, or at least to have ' The Squire of Low Degree : ' 
been thought worth notice, by anybody but 

Motherwell. As already observed in the He served the kyng, her father dere 

- . . TT- T TT Jo. n ^ Fully the tyme of seven yere. w o, b. 

preface to * Hmd Horn, stanza 2 seems to *' "^ 

have slipped into that ballad, in consequence ^^ j^^^^ ^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^ 3^^^^ ^^^^^ 

of the resemblance of stanza 1 to F 2, H 3 of yet was he of her love never the nere. w 17, 18. 

* Hind Horn.' This first stanza is, however, a 

Eitson, Met. Rom. m, 145 f . 

1 Seven lang years I hae served the king, 
Fa fa fa fa lilly 
And I never got a sight of his daughter but 
With my gUmpy, glimpy, glimpy eedle, 
LiUum too tee a ta too a tee a ta a tally 

2 I saw her thro a whummil bore, 

And I neer got a sight of her no more. 

3 Twa was putting on her gown, 
And ten was putting pins therein. 

4 Twa was putting on her shoon, 
And twa was buckling them again. 

5 Five was combing down her hair, 

And I never got a sight of her nae mair. 

6 Her neck and breast was like the snow, 
Then from the bore I was forced to go. 

a. 2'. Variation : And she was washing in a pond. b. Burden : Fa, fa, f alilly 

6'. Variation : Ye might have tied me with a With my glimpy, glimpy, glimpy 

strae. eedle, 

Lillum too a tee too a tally. . 





Maidment's North Countrie Garland, 1824, p. 21. Com- 
municated by R. Pitcairn, "from the recitation -of a 
female relative, who had heard it frequently sung in 

her childhood," about sixty years before the above 



MoTHEEWELL informs us, Minstrelsy, p. 
xciv of Introduction, note to 141, that ' Burd 
Helen and Young Tamlene ' is very popular, 
and that various sets of it are to be found tra- 
ditionally current (1827). Still 1 have not 

found it, out of Maidment's little book ; not 
even in Motherwell's large folio. 

I cannot connect this fragment with what 
is elsewhere handed down concerning Tam- 
lane, or with the story of any other ballad. 

1 Burd Ellen sits in her bower windowe, 

With a double laddy double, and for the 
double dow 
Twisting the red silk and the blue. 

With the double rose and the May-hay 

2 And whiles she tmsted, and whiles she twan, 
And whiles the tears fell down amang. 

3 Till once there by cam Young Tamlane : 

' Come light, oh li|ht, and rock your young 

4 * If you winna rock him, you may let him rair, 
For I hae rockit my share and mair.' 

* * * # # 

5 Young Tamlane to the seas he 's gane, 

And a' women's curse in his company's gane.