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University  of  California  •  Berkeley 

From  the  book  collection  of 

BERTRAND  H.  BRONSON 

bequeathed  by  him 
or  donated  by  his  wife 

Mildred  S.  Bronson 


THE  ENGLISH  AND  SCOTTISH 
POPULAR  BALLADS 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/englishscottishp12chilrich 


THE 

ENGLISH  AND  SCOTTISH 

POPULAR  BALLADS 

EDITED  BY 

FRANCIS  JAMES  CHILD 


IN    FIVE    VOLUMES 

VOLUME  I 

PART  II 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 

tEtie  Kiberstiue  Impress,  CambriDgc 

LONDON :  HENRY  STEVENS,  SON  AND  STILES 


<0ne  ^{loujs'anb  €tspk^  {Mnteii 
No. £%S1 


COPYRIGHT,  1884,  BT  F.  J.  CHILD 
AIJi  BIGHTS  RESERVED 


29 

THE  BOY  AND   THE  MANTLE 


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


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

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

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

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

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

33 


in  Wolf,  Ueber  die  Lais,  p.  324.  A  rendering 
of  the  fabliau  in  prose,  existing  in  a  single 
manuscript,  was  several  times  printed  in  the 
sixteenth  century  :  given  in  Legrand,  ed.  Re- 
nouard,  I,  126,  and  before,  somewhat  modern- 
ized, by  Caylus,  '  Les  Manteaux,'  CEuvres  Ba- 
dines,  VI,  435.t 

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

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


258 


29.    THE  BOY  AND  THE  MANTLE 


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

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

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


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

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

A  Norse  prose  translation  of  the  French 
fabliau  was  executed  by  order  of  the  Nor- 
wegian king,  Hdkon  Hdkonarson,  whose  reign 
covers  the  years  1217-63.  Of  this  translation, 
'  Mottuls  Saga,'  a  fragment  has  come  down 
which  is  as  old  as  1300 ;  there  are  also  por- 
tions of  a  manuscript  which  is  assigned  to 
about  1400,  and  two  transcripts  of  this  latter, 
made  when  it  was  complete,  besides  other  less 


•  •  Qnar  je  vons  aim  tant  bonement, 
Que  je  ne  voudroie  savoir 
Vostrc  mesfet  por  nul  avoir. 
Miex  en  venil  je  estre  en  dontance. 


For  tot  le  royaume  de  France, 

N'en  voudroie  je  estre  cert ; 

Quar  qui  sa  bone  amie  pert 

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


29.  THE  BOY  AND  THE  MANTLE 


259 


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

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

*  See  also  Brynjulfsson,  Saga  af  Tristram  ok  Isond,  samt 

Mottuls  Saga,  Udtog,  pp  318-26,  Copenhagen,  1878.    There 

V  is  a  general  presumption  that  the  larger  part  of  the  works 

translated  for  King  Hakon  were  derired  from  England. 

C.  &  W.,  p.  47. 

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

t  By  Warnatsch,  who  gives  the  text  with  the  correspond- 
ing passages  of  the  fabliau  in  a  parallel  column,  pp  8-54 : 
the  argument  for  Heinrich's  authorship,  pp  85-105.  '  Der 
Mantel '  had  been  previously  printed  in  Haupt  and  Hoff- 


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

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

There  is  also  an  incomplete  German  ver- 
sion of  the  fabliau,  now  credibly  shown  to  be 
the  work  of  Heinrich  von  dem  Tiirlin,  dating/ 
from  the  earliest  years  of  the  thirteenth  cen-1 ' 
tury.J     Though  the  author  has  dealt  freely 
with  his  original,  there  are  indications  that 

mann's  Altdeutsche  Blatter,  11,  217,  and  by  MullenhoflF  in 
his  Altdentsche  Sprachproben,  p.  125.  Of  this  poem,  which 
Warnatsch,  pp  105-1 10,  holds  to  be  a  fragment  of  a  lost 
romance  of  Lanzelet,  written  before  the  '  Crone,'  only  994 
verses  are  left.  Deducting  about  a  hundred  of  introduction, 
there  are  some  782  German  against  some  314  French  verses, 
an  excess  which  is  owing,  no  doubt,  largely  to  insertions 
and  expansions  on  the  part  of  Heinrich,  but  in  some  measure 
to  the  existing  texts  of  the  fabliau  having  suffered  abridg- 
ment. The  whole  matter  of  the  church  service,  with  the 
going  and  coming,  is  dispatched  in  less  than  a  dozen  verses 
in  the  French,  but  occupies  more  than  seventy  in  German, 
and  just  here  we  read  in  the  French  : 

Ci  ne  vueil  je  plus  demorer, 

Ni  de  noient  fere  lone  conte, 

Si  con  I'estoire  le  raconte. 


260 


29.    THE  BOY  AND  THE  MANTLE 


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

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

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

But  possibly  the  last  verse  should  be  taken  with  what  fol- 
lows. 

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

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

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


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

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

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


29.  THE  BOY  AND  THE  MANTLE 


261 


Carados  vrindinne,  in  the  other  Famie  Car- 
aduel  Briefbras. 

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

Two  fifteenth-century  German  versions  of 
the  Mantle  story  give  it  a  shape  of  their  own. 
In  Fastnachtspiele  aus  dem  fiinfzehnten  Jahr- 
hundert,  II,  665,  No  81,  '  Der  Luneten  Man- 
tel,' the  amiable  Lunet,  so  well  and  favorably 
known  in  romances,  takes  the  place  of  the 
English  boy  and  French  varlet.  The  story 
has  the  usual  course.  The  mantle  is  unsuc- 
cessfully tried  by  Arthur's  queen,  by  the  wife 
of  the  Greek  emperor,  and  by  the  queen  of 
Lorraine.  The  king  of  Spain,  who  announces 
himself  as  the  oldest  man  present,  is  willing 
to  excuse  his  wife,  who  is  the  youngest  of  the 
royal  ladies.  She  says.  If  we  lack  lands  and 
gold,  "  so  sei  wir  doch  an  eren  reich,"  offers 
herself  to  the  test  with  the  feai'lessness  of  in- 
nocence, and  comes  off  clear,  to  the  delight  of 
her  aged  spouse.     A   meistergesang,  Bruns, 


Beitrage  zur  kritischen  Bearbeitung  alter 
Handschriften,  p.  143,|  '  Lanethen  Mantel,' 
again  awards  the  prize  to  the  young  wife  of 
a  very  old  knight.  Laneth,  a  clean  maid, 
who  is  Arthur's  niece,  having  made  hei-self 
poor  by  her  bounty,  is  cast  off  by  her  uncle's 
wife  and  accused  of  loose  behavior.  She 
makes  her  trouble  known  to  a  dwarf,  a  good 
friend  of  her  father's,  and  receives  from  him  a 
mantle  to  take  to  Arthur's  court :  if  anybody 
huffs  her,  she  is  to  put  it  to  use.  The  queen 
opens  upon  Laneth,  as  soon  as  she  appears, 
with  language  not  unlike  that  which  she  em- 
ploys of  Cradock's  wife  in  stanzas  83,  34  of 
the  ballad.  The  mantle  is  offered  to  any  lady 
that  it  will  fit.  In  front  it  comes  to  the 
queen's  knee,  and  it  drags  on  the  ground  be- 
hind. Three  hundred  and  fifty  knights'  la- 
dies fare  as  ill  as  the  sovereign. § 

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


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

t  For  this  enchanter  see  Le  Livre  de  Karados  in  Perceval 


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

X  Another  copy,  assigned  to  the  end  of  the  14th  century, 
from  the  Kolmar  MS.,  Bartsch,  p.  373,  No  Lxix  (War- 
natsch). 

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

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


262 


29.    THE  BOY  AND  THE  MANTLE 


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

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


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


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

t  Wolf  at  first  speaks  of  the  lai  as  being  made  over  into 
the  fabliau,  in  regular  court  style,  ganz  nach  hcifischer  Weise, 
about  the  middle  of  the  I3th  century  ;  then  goes  on  to  say 
that  even  if  the  author  of  the  fabliau  followed  another  ver- 
sion of  the  story,  he  must  have  known  the  jongleur's  poem, 
because  he  has  repeated  some  of  the  introductory  lines  of 
the  lai.  This  excellent  scholar  happened,  for  once,  not  to 
observe  that  the  first  fourteen  lines  of  the  lai,  excepting  the 


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


39.    THE  BOY  AND  THE  MANTLE 


263 


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

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

*  Montpellier  MS. 

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

i  So  amended  by  Zingerle  from  Sjrmeyer  lant.    A  third 


many  a  dame  hate  nothing  so  much  as  her. 
Perceval   le   Gallois,   ed.  Potvin,  II,  216  ff, 

vv  1.5,640-767.  t 

The  story  of  '  Le  Livre  de  Carados,'  in  Per- 
ceval, is  given  in  abridgment  by  the  author 
of  Le  Roman  du  Renard  contrefait,  writing 
in  the  second  half  of  the  fourteenth  century : 
Tarb^,  Pontes  de  Champagne  ant^rieurs  au 
siecle  de  Francjois  I",  Histoire  de  Quarados 
Brun-Bras,  p.  79  ff.  The  horn  here  becomes 
a  cup. 

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

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

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


264 


29.    THE  BOY  AND  THE  MANTLE 


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

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

Heinrich  von  dem  Tiirlin  narrates  the  epi- 


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

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


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

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

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

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


tien,  characteristic  agreements  with  Perceval  being  entirely 
wanting.  There  are  agreements  with  the  lai,  many  more 
with  the  fabliau  ;  and  Heinrich's  poem,  so  far  as  it  is  not  of 
his  own  invention,  he  believes  to  be  compounded  from  his 
own  version  of  the  fabliau  and  some  lost  version  of  the  Horn- 
test :  pp  Ul-lU. 

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


29.  THE  BOY  AND  THE  MANTLE 


265 


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

Ariosto  has  introduced  the  magical  vessel 
made  by  Morgan  the  Fay  for  Arthur's  be- 
hoof f  into  Orlando  Furioso.  A  gentleman 
tries  it  on  his  guests  for  ten  years,  and  they 
all  spill  but  Rinaldo,  who  declines  il  periglioso 
saggio :  canto  XLH,  70-73,  97-104 ;  xlhi, 
6-44.  Upon  Ariosto's  narrative  La  Fontaine 
founded  the  tale  and  the  comedy  of  '  La  Coupe 
Enchant^e,'  Works  ed.  Moland,  IV,  37,  V, 
361. 

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


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

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


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

t  Dn  vascUo  fatto  da  her,  qual  gik,  per  fare  accorto  il  sue 
fratcllo  del  fallo  di  Ginevra,  fe  Morgana  :  xliii,  28  ;  un  hel 
nappo  d'or,  di  fuor  di  gemme,  xlii,  98.  The  Orlando  con- 
curs with  the  prose  Tristan  as  to  the  malice  of  Morgan,  but 
does  not,  with  the  Tristan,  depart  from  prescription  in  mak- 
ing the  women  drink.  Warnatsch  observes  that  the  Orlando 
agrees  with  the  Horn  Faslnachtspiel,  and  may  with  it  follow 
some  lost  version  of  the  story  :  p.  69. 

Before  leaving  these  drinking-tests,  mention  may  be  made 

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

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

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

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

M 


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

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

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

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


266 


29.    THE  BOY  AND   THE  MANTLE 


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

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

Heinrich  von  dem  Tiirlin,  not  satisfied  with 


testing  Arthur's  court  first  with  the  mantle, 
and  again  with  the  horn,  renews  the  experi- 
ment with  a  Glove,  in  a  couple  of  thousand 
lines  more  of  tedious  imitation  of  '  Cort  Man- 
tel,' t  Cr6ne,  22,990-24,719.  This  glove  ren- 
ders the  right  side  of  the  body  invisible,  when 
put  on  by  man  or  woman  free  of  blame,  but 
leaves  in  the  other  case  some  portion  of  that 
side  visible  and  bare.  A  great  many  ladies 
and  knights  don  the  glove,  and  all  have  rea- 
son to  regret  the  trial  except  Arthur  and  Ga- 
wain.J 

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

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


*  The  horn  is  No  4  in  Jones's  list,  and  No  3  in  a  manu- 
scii])t  of  Justice  Bosanquet ;  the  knife  is  13th  in  Jones  and 
6th  in  the  other;  the  mantle  of  invisibility  is  I3th  in  the  Bo- 
sanquet series,  and,  under  the  title  of  Arthur's  veil  or  mask, 
Ist  in  Jones.  The  mantle  of  Tegau  Eurvron  does  not  occur 
in  the  Bosanquet  MS.  Jones  sajs,  "  The  original  Welsh 
account  of  the  above  regalia  was  transcribed  from  a  tran- 
script of  Mr  Edward  Llwyd,  the  antiquary,  who  informs  me 
that  he  copied  it  from  an  old  parchment  MS.  I  have  col- 
lated this  with  two  other  MSS."  Not  a  word  of  dates. 
Jones's  Welsh  Bards,  II,  47-49;  Lady  Charlotte  Guest's 
Mabinogion,  II,  353-55. 

Lady  Charlotte  Guest  remarks  that  a  boar's  head  in  some 
form  appears  as  the  armorial  hearing  of  all  ofCaradawc's 
name.  Thoiii;h  most  anxious  to  believe  all  that  is  i-aid  of 
Caradawc,  I  am  compelled  to  doubt  whether  this  goes  far 
to  prove  that  he  owned  the  knife  celebrated  in  the  ballad. 


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

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

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

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

§  Fastnachtspiclc  aus  dem  fiinfzehnten  Jahrhundert, 
Zweiter  Theil,  p.  654,  No  80. 


29.    THE  BOY  AND  THE  MANTLE 


267 


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

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

Still  another  imitation  is  the  Magical  Bridge 


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

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

There  might  be  further  included  in  imitar 
tions  of  the  horn  or  mantle  test  several  other 
inventions  which  are  clearly,  as  to  form,  mod- 
elled on  this  original,  but  which  have  a  dif- 
ferent object :  the  valley  from  which  no  false 
lover  could  escape  till  it  had  been  entered  by 
one  "  qui  de  nulle  chose  auroit  vers  s'amie 
faus^  ne  mespris,  ne  d'euvre  n^  de  pens^e  nS 
de  talent,"  the  prose  Lancelot  in  Jonckbloet, 
II,  Ixix  (Warnatsch),  Ferrario,  Storia  ed 
Analisi,  Lancilotto  del  Lago,  III,  372,  Le- 
grand,  Fabliaux,  I,  166 ;  the  arch  in  Amadis, 
which  no  man  or  woman  can  pass  who  has 
been  unfaithful  to  a  first  love,  and  again,  the 
sword  which  only  the  knight  who  loves  his 
lady  best  can  draw,  and  the  partly  withered 
garland  which  becomes  completely  fresh  on 
the  head  of  the  lady  who  best  loves  her  hus- 
band or  lover,  Amadis  de  Gaula,  1.  ii,  intro- 
duccion,  c.  1,  c.  14,  and  ballad  1890  in  Duran, 
II,  665  ;  the  cup  of  congealed  tears  in  Palmerin 
of  England,  which  liquefies  in  the  hand  of  the 
best  knight  and  faithfulest  lover,  chapters  87- 
89,  II,  322  ff,  ed.  of  London,  1807. 


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

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


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

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


268 


39.    THE  BOY  AND  THE  MANTLE 


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

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

A  stepping-stone  by  the  bed-side.  '  Vesle 
Aase  Gaasepige,'  AsbJ0rnsen  og  Moe,  No  29  : 
see  p.  66. 

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

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


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

A  picture.    For  the  rose,  as  in  Perceforest, 


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

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


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

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

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


29.    THE  BOY  AND  THE  MANTLE 


269 


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

A  ring.  The  picture  is  exchanged  for  a  ring 
in  a  French  tale  derived,  and  in  parts  almost 
translated,  from  Bandello's  :  the  sixth  in  '  Les 
Faveurs  et  les  Disgraces  de  1' Amour,'  etc.,  said 
to  have  appeared  in  1696. f  A  white  stone 
set  in  the  ring  may  become  yellow  or  black 
under  circumstances.  Such  a  ring  Rimnild 
gave  Horn  Child :  when  the  stone  should  grow 
wan,  her  thoughts  would  have  changed ;  should 
it  grow  red,  she  is  no  more  a  maid :  see  p.  192. 
A  father,  being  required  to  leave  three  daugh- 
ters, gives  them  each  such  a  ring  in  Basile, 
Pentamerone,  m,  4.  The  rings  are  changed 
into  glass  distaffs  in  '  L'Adroite  Princesse,'  an 
imitation  of  this  story  by  Mile.  Lh^ritier  de 
Villaudon,  which  has  sometimes  been  printed 
with  Perrault's  tales:  Perrault,  Contes  des 
Fdes,  ed.  Giraud,  p.  239 ;  Dunlop,  ch.  13. 

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


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

A  harp,  in  the  hands  of  an  image,  upon 
the  approach  of  a  despucellSe,  plays  out  of 
tune  and  breaks  a  string  :  Perceval  le  Gallois, 
II,  149,  vv  13,365-72  (Rajna,  as  above). 

A  crystal  brook,  in  the  amiral's  garden  in 
Flor  and  Blancheflor,  Vhen  crossed  by  a  vir- 
gin remains  pellucid,  but  in  the  other  case  be- 
comes red,  or  turbid  :  ed.  Du  Mdril,  p.  75,  vv 
1811-14;  Bekker,  Berlin  Academy,  XLIV, 
26,  vv  2069-72 ;  Fleck,  ed.  Sommer,  p.  148, 
vv  4472-82  ;  Swedish,  ed.  Kleraming,  p.  38, 
1122-25 ;  Lower  Rhine,  Haupt's  Zeitschrift, 
XXI,  321,  vv  67-62  ;  Middle  Greek,  Bekker, 
Berlin  Academy,  1845,  p.  165,  Wagner,  Me- 
diaeval Greek  Texts,  p.  40  f,  vv  1339-48  ;  etc. 
In  the  English  poem,  Hartshorne's  Ancient 
Metrical  Tales,  p.  93,  ii  a  clean  maid  wash 
her  hands  in  the  water,  it  remains  quiet  and 
clear ;  but  if  one  who  has  lost  her  purity  do 
this,  the  water  will  yell  like  mad  and  become 
red  as  blood. 

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

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


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

t  Kohler,  as  above,  p.  60  f. 

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


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


270 


29.    THE  BOY  AND  THE  MANTLE 


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

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


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

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


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

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


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

}  The  phrase  looks  more  malicious  than  naif,  whether 
Austrian  or  Spanish,  and  implies,  I  fear,  an  exsufflicate  and 
blown  surmise  about  female  virtue ;  and  so  of  the  Indian 
'  Volksglaube.'  The  candle-test  is  said  to  be  in  use  for  men 
in  Silesia :  Warnatsch,  citing  Weinhold,  p.  58. 

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


39.    THE  BOY  AND  THE  MANTLE 


271 


It  is  prescribed  in  Numbers  v,  11-31,  that 
any  man  jealous  of  his  wife  may  bring  her  to 
the  priest,  who  shall,  with  and  after  various 
ceremonies,  give  her  a  bitter  drink  of  holy 
water  in  which  dust  from  the  floor  of  the  tab- 
ernacle has  been  infused.  If  she  have  tres- 
passed, her  body  shall  swell  and  rot.  In  the 
Pseudo-Matthew's  Gospel,  ch.  xii,  Joseph  and 
Mary  successively  take  this  aquam  potationis 
domini.  No  pretender  to  innocence  could  taste 
this  and  then  make  seven  turns  round  the  al- 
tar, without  some  sign  of  sin  appearing  in  the 
face.  The  experiment  shows  both  to  be  fault- 
less. So,  with  some  variation,  the  sixteenth 
chapter  of  the  Protevangelium  of  James.  This 
trial  is  the  subject  of  one  of  the  Coventry  Mys- 
teries, No  14,  p.  137  ff,  ed.  Halliwell,  and  no 
doubt  of  other  scripture  plays.  It  is  naturally 
introduced  into  Wernher's  Maria,  Hoffmann, 
Fundgruben,  II,  188,  line  26  ff,  and  probably 
into  other  lives  of  the  Virgin. 

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


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

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

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


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

1  In  the  third  day  of  May 

to  Carleile  did  come 
A  kind  curteous  child, 

that  cold  much  of  wisdome. 

2  A  kirtle  and  a  mantle 

this  child  had  vppon, 

With  branches  and  ringes 

full  richelye  bedone. 

3  He  had  a  sate  of  silke, 

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


4  '  God  speed  thee,  King  Arthur, 

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

5  '  I  teU  you  lords  in  this  hall, 

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

6  He  plucked  out  of  his  potewer, 

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

7  '  Haue  thou  here,  King  Arthure, 

haue  thou  heere  of  mee ; 


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


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


272 


29.    THE  BOY  AND  THE  MANTLE 


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

8  '  Itt  shall  neuer  become  that  wifEe 

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

9  Forth  came  dame  Gueneuer, 

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

10  When  shee  had  taken  the  mantle, 

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

11  One  while  was  itt  gaule, 

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

12  Another  while  was  it  blacke, 

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

13  Shee  threw  downe  the  mantle, 

that  bright  was  of  blee, 
Fast  with  a  rudd  redd 

to  her  chamber  can  shee  flee. 

14  Shee  curst  the  weauer  and  the  walker 

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

15  '  I  had  rather  be  in  a  wood, 

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

16  Kay  called  forth  his  ladye, 

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

17  Forth  came  his  ladye 

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


18  When  she  had  tane  the  mantle, 

and  cast  it  her  about, 
Then  was  shee  bare 

all  aboue  the  buttocckes. 

19  Then  euery  knight 

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

20  Shee  threw  downe  the  mantle, 

that  bright  was  of  blee, 
Ffast  wt'th  a  red  rudd 

to  her  chamber  can  shee  flee. 

21  Forth  came  an  old  knight, 

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

22  And  all  the  time  of  the  Christmasse 

willinglye  to  If eede  ; 
For  why,  this  mantle  might 
doe  his  wifEe  some  need. 

23  When  shee  had  tane  the  mantle, 

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

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

bade  euill  might  shee  speed. 

24  Shee  threw  downe  the  mantle, 

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

25  Craddocke  called  forth  his  ladye, 

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

26  '  Winne  this  mantle,  ladye, 

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

27  Forth  came  Craddockes  lajlye 

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


29.    THE  BOY  AND  THE  MANTLE 


273 


28  When  shee  had  tane  the  mantle, 

and  cast  itt  her  about, 
Vpp  att  her  great  toe 

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

and  shame  me  not  for  nought. 

29  '  Once  I  did  amisse, 

I  tell  you  certainlye. 
When  I  kist  Craddockes  mouth 

vnder  a  greene  tree, 
When  I  kist  Craddockes  mouth 

before  he  marryed  mee.' 

30  When  shee  had  her  shreeuen, 

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

31  Seemelye  of  coulour, 

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

32  Then  spake  dame  Gueneuer 

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

33  '  See  you  not  yonder  woman 

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

34  '  Preists,  clarkes,  and  wedded  men, 

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

35  Then  spake  the  litle  boy 

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

36  '  Shee  is  a  bitch  and  a  witch, 

and  a  whore  bold  ; 

King,  in  thine  owne  hall 

thou  art  a  cuchold.' 

37  The  litle  boy  stoode 

looking  ouer  a  dore  ; 
35 


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

38  He  pulld  forth  a  wood  kniffe, 

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

39  He  brought  in  the  bores  head, 

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

40  Some  rubbed  their  kniues 

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

41  King  Arthur  and  the  child 

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

42  Craddoccke  had  a  litle  kniae 

of  iron  and  of  Steele  ; 
He  birtled  the  bores  head 

wonderous  weele. 
That  euery  knight  in  the  kings  court 

had  a  morssell. 

43  The  litle  boy  had  a  home, 

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

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

either  behind  or  beforne.' 

44  Some  shedd  on  their  shoulder, 

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

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

euery  man  might  him  see. 

45  Craddoccke  wan  the  home 

and  the  bores  head  ; 
His  ladye  wan  the  mantle 

vnto  her  meede  ; 
Euerye  such  a  louely  ladye, 

God  send  her  well  to  speede ! 


274 


30.    KING  ARTHUB  AND  KING  CORNWALL 


&  is  printed  and,  wherever  it  occurs. 
2'.  MS.  might  he  read  branches. 
5".  all  heate.     6*.  2  nut-shells. 

his  wiffe. 

bUed.   "  Query  the  le  in  the  MS."     Furnivall. 

Perhaps  the  last  ivord  was  originally  tout,  as 
Mr  T.  Wright  has  suggested. 

lauged.     21*.  20  markes. 

wiUignglye. 


8*. 

18* 

19« 

22^, 


33*.  MS.  perhaps  has  cleare  altered  to  clene. 

33*.  fiueteeene. 

371.  A  litle. 

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

40>,  41«.  kiues. 

41^  Arthus. 

44".  sone  on. 


30 
KING  ARTHUR  AND  KING   CORNWALL 

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


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

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

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

t  British  Museum  (but  now  missing),  King's  Library,  16, 
E,  VIII,  fol.  131,  recto:  "  Ci  comeuce  le  liuere  cumraent 
oharels  de  fraunce  voiet  in  ierhtisa/em  Et  piir  parols  sa  feme 
a  constantinnoble  pur  vere  roy  hugon."     First  published  by 


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

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

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

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


30.    KING  ARTHUR  AND   KING   CORNWALL 


275 


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

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

Charlemagne's   Journey   was    also    turned 


into  Welsh  in  the  thirteenth  centnry.  Three 
versions  are  known,  of  which  the  best  is  in  the 
Red  Book  of  Hergest.  J 

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

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


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

*  II  Viaggio  di  Carlo  Magno  in  Ispagna,  pubblicato  per 
cure  di  Antonio  Ceruti,  c.  li,  II,  170:  Rajna,  Uggeri  il 
Danese  nella  letteratnra  romanzesca  degl'  Italian!,  Roma- 
nia IV,  414  ff.  A  king  of  Portugal,  of  the  faith  of  Apollo 
and  Alahound,  takes  the  place  of  the  king  of  Constantinople 
in  the  former,  and  one  Saracen  or  another  in  the  several 
versions  of  the  second.  G.  Paris,  in  Romania,  IX,  3,  10, 
notes. 

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


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

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


276 


30.    KING   ARTHUR  AND  KING  CORNWALL 


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

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


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


*  There  are  some  variations  in  the  list  of  relics  in  the 
other  versions.  The  Rimur  say  "  many,"  without  specify- 
ing. 

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


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


30.    KING  ARTHUR  AND  KING   CORNWALL 


m 


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

The  Franks,  as  it  appears  later,  had  drunk 
heavily  at  supper,  and  this  must  be  their  ex- 
cuse for  giving  themselves  over,  when  in  a 
foreign  country,  to  a  usage  or  propensity 
which  they  had  no  doubt  indulged  in  at  home, 
and  which  is  familiar  in  northern  poetry  and 
saga,  that  of  making  bi'ags  (gabs,  Anglo-Saxon 
be6t,  gilp  *).  Chai'les  began  :  Let  Hugo  arm 
his  best  man  in  two  hauberks  and  two  helms, 
and  set  him  on  a  charger :  then,  if  he  will  lend 
me  his  sword,  I  will  with  a  blow  cut  through 
helms,  hauberks,  and  saddle,  and  if  I  let  it 
have  its  course,  the  blade  shall  never  be  recov- 


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

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

The  emperor  next  called  upon  Oliver,  whose 
gab  was: 

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

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

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

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

The  other  eight  gabs  may  be  passed  over, 


*  The  lieir  of  a  Scandinavian  king,  or  earl,  at  the  feast 
which  solemnized  his  accession,  drank  a  bragnr-fuU,  a  chief's 
cup  or  king's  toast,  to  the  men)ory  of  his  father,  and  then 
made  some  important  vow.  This  he  did  before  he  took  his 
father's  seat.  The  puests  then  made  vows.  The  custom 
seems  not  to  have  been  confined  to  these  funeral  banquets. 
See  Vinfusson,  at  the  word  B  r  a  g  r .  Charles  and  his  peers 
show  their  blood. 

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


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


278 


30.    KING  ARTHUR  AND  KING  CORNWALL 


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

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

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

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


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

Charles  in  the  tree  heard  Hugo  in  the  tower 
making  his  moan  :  he  would  give  the  emperor 
all  his  treasure,  would  become  his  man  and 
hold  his  kingdom  of  him.  The  emperor  was 
moved,  and  prayed  that  the  flood  might  stop, 
and  at  once  the  water  began  to  ebb.  Hugo 
was  able  to  descend  from  his  tower,  and  he 
came  to  Charles,  under  an  "  ympe  tree,"  and 
repeated  what  he  had  uttered  in  the  moment 
of  extremit3^  "  Do  you  want  the  rest  of  the 
gabs?"  asked  Charles.  "  Ne  de  ceste  se- 
maine,"  replied  Hugo.  "  Then,  since  you  are 
my  man,"  said  the  emperor,  "  we  will  make 
a   holiday   and   wear  our    crowns   together." 


*  lu  Galicn,  Hugo  is  exceedingly  frightened  by  Charle- 
magne's fierce  demeanor  and  by  what  he  is  told  by  a  recreant 
Frenchman  who  is  living  in  exile  at  his  court,  and  rouses  the 
city  for  an  assault  on  his  guests,  in  which  he  loses  two  thou- 
sand of  his  people.     A  parley  ensues.     Hugo  will  hear  of  no 


accommodation  unless  the  gabs  are  performed.  "  Content," 
says  Charles,  angrily,  "  they  shall  be,  if  you  wish  ;  "  but  he 
feels  how  great  the  peril  is,  and  goes  to  church  to  invoke  the 
aid  of  heaven,  which  is  vouchsafed. 


30.    KING  ARTHUR  AND  KING  CORNWALL 


279 


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

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

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


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

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


*  Arthur  is  said  to  have  "  socht  to  the  ciete  of  Criste,"  in 
'Golagros  and  Gawane,'  Madden's  '  Syr  Gawayne,'  p.  143, 
T.  302.  The  author  probably  followed  the  soKsalled  Nen- 
nius,  c.  63. 

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

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

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


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

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

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


280 


30.    KING  ARTHUK  AND   KING  CORNWALL 


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

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

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


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

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

The  Faroe  ballad,  '  Geipa-td,ttur,'  exists  in 
four  versions  :  A,  Svabo's  manuscript  collec- 
tion, 1782,  III,  1,  85  stanzas ;  B,  Sand0bog, 
1822,  p.  49,  140  stanzas;  C,  Fuglabog,  c. 
1840,  p.  9, 120  stanzas;  D,  Sydero  version,  ob- 
tained by  Hammershaimb,  1848, 103  stanzas.f 
It  repeats  the  story  of  the  Norse  saga,  with  a 

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

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

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


30.    KING  ARTHUR  AND  KING  CORNWALL 


281 


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


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

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


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

*  Pol,  A,  C,  Kortunatus,  B,  i.  e.  Koronatus  (Gnindtvig). 
Coronatus  =  clericus,  tonsura  sen  corona  clericali  donatus  : 
Ducange. 

t  The  white  bears  and  the  wolf-dogs  are  found  in  another 
Faroe  ballad,  as  yet  unprinted,  '  Asmundar  skeiukjari,' 
36 


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


282 


30.    KING  ARTHUR  AND    KING  CORNWALL 


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

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


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

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


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

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


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


30.    KING  ARTHUB  AND   KING  CORNWALL 


283 


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

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


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

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


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


'  I  know  where  a  round  table  is,   thou  noble 
king, 
Is  worth  thy  round  table  and  other   such 
three. 


1  [Saies,  '  Come  here,  cuzen  Guwaiiie  so  gay,] 
My  sisters  sonne  be  yee  ; 
Ffor  you  shall  see  one  of  the  fairest  round  ta- 
bles 
That  euer  you  see  with  your  eye.' 


3  '  The  trestle  that  stands  vnder  this  round  ta- 
ble,' she  said, 
'  Lowe  downe  to  the  mould, 
It  is  worth  thy  round  table,  thou  worthy  king, 
Thy  haUs,  and  aU  thy  gold. 


2  Then  bespake  Lady  Quee?i  Gueneuer, 
And  these  were  the  words  said  shee : 


4  '  The  place  where  this  roimd  table  stands  in, 


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

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


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

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

I  G.  Paris,  Histoire  Poetiqne  de  Charlemagne,  p.  344. 


284 


30.    KIKG  ARTHUR  AND   KING  CORNWALL 


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

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

*  Or   where   may   all   that  goodly   building 
be?' 
'  You  shall  it  seeke,'  shee  says,  'till  you  it  find, 
For  you  shall  neuer  gett  more  of  me.' 

6  Then  bespake  him  noble  'King  Arthur, 

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

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

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


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

9  '  There  is  noe  outlandish  man  will  vs  abide, 
Nor  wiU  vs  come  nye.' 
Then  they  riued  east  and  the  riued  west. 
In  many  a  strange  country. 

10  Then  they  tranckled  a  litle  further, 
They  saw  a  battle  new  sett : 
'  Now,  by  my  faith,'  sales  noble  King  Arthur, 
«...  well    . 


14  '  I  haue  two  poore  rings  of  my  finger. 

The  better  of  them  He  giue  to  thee  ; 
Tell   who    may   be   lord    of    this    castle,'    he 
sayes, 
'  Or  who  is  lord  in  this  cuntry  ? ' 

15  '  CornewaU  TSLing,'  the  porter  sayes, 

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

16  And  then  bespake  him  noble  "King  Arthur, 

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

The  better  of  them  He  giue  thee. 
If  thou  wilt  greete  him  well,  CornewaU  'King, 

And  greete  him  well  from  me. 

17  '  Pray  him   for  one  nights  lodging   and   two 

meales  meate. 
For  his  love  that  dyed  vppon  a  tree  ; 
Of  one  ghesting  and  two  meales  meate. 
For  his  loue  that  dyed  vppon  a  tree. 

18  '  Of  one  ghesting,  of  two  meales  meate. 

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

19  Then  forth  is  gone  this  proud  porter, 

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


11  But  when  he  cam  to  this     .     .     c 
And  to  the  palace  gate, 
Soe  ready  was  ther  a  proud  porter, 
And  met  him  soone  therat. 


20  Sayes,  '  I  haue  beene  porter-man,  at  thy  gate, 
This  thirty  winter  and  three 


12  Shooes  of  gold  the  porter  had  on. 

And  aU   his   other  rayment  was  vnto   the 
same : 
'  Now,  by  my  faith,'  sales  noble  King  Arthur, 
'  Yonder  is  a  minion  swaine.' 

13  Then  bespake  noble  King  Arthur, 

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


21 


Our  Lady  was  borne  ;  then  thought  CornewaU 
King 
These  palmers  had  beene  in  Brittaiwe. 

22  Then  bespake  him  Cornwall  King, 

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


30.    KING   ARTHUR  AND  KING  CORNWALL 


285 


23  And  then  bespake  him  noble  Kmi/  Arthur, 

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

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

These  were  the  words  said  he  : 

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

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

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

Hath  none  such  in  his  bower. 

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

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

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

'  And  that 's  a  f  uU  f  aire  wight ! ' 

26  And  then  bespake  Comewall  [King]  againe, 

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

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

Hath  none  such,  if  he  had  need. 

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

As   King   Arthur   can  doe   any  of   his   on 
three ; 
And  is  it  not  a  pleasure  for  a  kiwy 

When  he  shall  ryde  forth  on  his  iourney  ? 

28  '  For  the  eyes  that  beene  in  his  head, 

Th4  glister  as  doth  the  gleed.' 
'  Now,  by  my  faith,'  says  noble  King  Arthur, 
'  That  is  a  well  faire  steed.' 


29 


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

30  Then  King  Arthur  to  his  bed  was  brought, 

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

31  Then  take  they  did  that  lodly  g^oome, 

And  under  the  rub-chadler  closed  was  hee, 


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

32  That  he  might  come  forth,  and  make  procla- 

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

33  And  when  King  Arthur  in  his  bed  was  laid. 

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

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

Litle  Brittaine  or  euer  I  see  ! ' 

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

gay, 

'  As  ever  king  hard  make  I ; 
But  wee  that  beene  flue  cliristian  men, 

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

And  all  his  armorie.' 

35  And  then  bespake  him  noble  Arthur, 

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

gay, 
Goe  home,  and  drinke  wine  in  thine  owne 

country.' 

36  And  then  bespake  Str  Gawaine  the  gay. 

And  these  were  the  words  said  hee  : 
'  Nay,  seeing  you  have  made  such  a  hearty 
vow, 
Heere  another  vow  make  will  I. 

37  '  Be  make  mine  avow  to  God, 

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

38  '  Be  hose  her  hourly  to  my  heart. 

And  with  her  Be  worke  my  wUl ; ' 


39 


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


286 


30.    KING  ARTHUR  AND  KING  CORN  WALL 


40  And  then  bespoke  Sir  Bredbeddle, 

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

41  Then  bespake  him  noble  Arthur, 

And  these  were  the  words  said  he  : 
'  What  weapons  wilt  thou  haue,  thou  gentle 
knight  ? 
I  pray  thee  tell  to  me.' 

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

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

43  Then  w^th  his  CoUen  brand  that  he  had  in  his 

hand 
The  bunge  of  that  rub-chandler  he  burst  in 

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

44  The  fyer  towards  the  element  flew, 

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


49  And  when  he  came  to  the  Mnga  chamber, 

He  cold  of  his  curtesie  : 
Says,  '  Sleepe  you,  wake  you,  noble  King  Ar- 
thur ? 
And  euer  lesus  waken  yee  ! ' 

50  '  Nay,  I  am  not  sleeping,  1  am  waking,' 

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

61  The  knight  wrought  the  hing  his  booke. 
Bad  him  behold,  reede  and  see  ; 
And  euer  he  found  it  on  the  backside  of  the 
leafe 
As  noble  Arthur  wold  wish  it  to  be. 

52  And  then  bespake  him  King  Arthur, 

'  Alas !  thow  gentle  knight,  how  may  this 
be. 
That  I  might  see  him  in  the  same  licknesse 
That  he  stood  vnto  thee  ?  ' 

53  And  then  bespake  him  the  Greene  Knight, 

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


45  TiU  his  CoUaine  brand  brake  in  his  hand. 

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

46  But  now  is  the  knight  left  without  any  weap- 

ons. 

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

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

He  found  it  by  the  side  of  the  sea. 

47  He  found  it  at  the  searside, 

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


54  Then  bespake  him  the  king  againe, 

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

55  Then  bespake  him  the  Greene  Knight, 

These  were  the  words  said  he : 
Sales,  '  I  doe  coniui-e  thee,  thou  f owle  feend, 
In  the  same  licknesse  thou  stood  vnto  me.' 

56  With  that  start  out  a  lodly  feend. 

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

Out  of  his  mouth,  where  was  great  plenty. 

57  The  knight  stood  in  the  middle  p     .     •     . 


48  '  That  thou  doe  not  s         .         .         .         . 

But  ly  stiU  in  that  wall  of  stone. 
Till  I  haue  beene  with  noble  Kin^'  Arthur, 
And  told  him  what  I  haue  done.' 


58 


30.    KING  ARTHUR  AND   KING  CORNWALL 


287 


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

69  And  then  bespake  him  the  Greene  Knight, 

And  these  were  the  words  said  he  : 

Saith,  '  I  coniure  thee,  thou  fowle  feend. 

Thai  thou  feitch  downs  the  steed  that  we 


68  And  then  bespake  him  the  Greene  Knight, 


69 


60  And  then  forth  is  gone  Burlow-beanie, 

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

61  Then  bespake  him  Sir  Marramiles, 

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

62  Marramiles  tooke  the  steed  to  his  hand. 

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

63  He  laid  vppon  him  with  heele  and  hand, 

With  yard  that  was  soe  fell ; 
'  Helpe !    brother    Bredbeddle,'   says    Manu- 
mile, 
'  For  I  thinke  he  be  the  devill  of  hell. 

64  '  Helpe !    brother    Bredbeddle,'   says    Marrar 

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

65  Then  bespake  him  Sir  Bredbeddle, 

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

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

66  He  saith,  '  there  is  a  gold  wand 

Stands  in  'King  Cornwalls  study  windowe  ; 


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


A  lowd  blast  he  may  blow  then. 

70  And  then  bespake  Sir  Bredebeddle, 

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

71  Then  forth  is  gone  Burlow-beanie, 

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

72  Then  Sir  Tristeram  tooke  powder  forth  of  that 

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

73  Then  he  tooke  the  home  in  his  hand, 

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

74  Then  bespake  him  the  Greene  Knight, 

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

75  Then  forth  is  gone  Burlow-beanie, 

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

76  Then  bespake  him  Sir  Bredbeddle, 

To  the  \ing  these  words  said  he  : 
'  Take  this  sword  in  thy  hand,  thou  noble  King 
Arthur, 
For  the  vowes  sake  that  thou  made  lie   giue 
it  th[ee,] 
And  goe  strike  off  Kiw^'  Cornewalls  head, 
In  bed  were  he  doth  lye.' 


288 


77  Then  forth  is  gone  noble  King  Arthur, 
As  fast  as  he  cold  hye, 
And    strucken   he   hath    off   King   Cornwalls 
head, 
And  came  againe  by  and  by. 


31.    THE  MAKRIAGE   OF  SIR  GAWAIN 

78  He  put  the  head  vpon  a  swords  point, 


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

come  here  Gxizen  Gawaine  so  gay. 

Furnivall  says  "  the  bottoms  of  the  letters  left 

suit  better  those  in  the  text "  as  given. 
4  and  5,  8  and  9,  are  joined  in  the  MS. 
10*.  Half  a  page  is  gone  from  the  MS.,  or  about 

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

47*,  57S  681,  781. 
14'.  they  better. 
17',  181.  The  first  two  words  are  hard  to  make  out, 

and  look  like  A  vne. 
18^  boirne. 
191.  his  gone. 

20^^.  The  lower  half  of  the  letters  is  gone. 
21.    InMS.: 


28*. 

31''. 
35. 

381. 

391. 

41^. 

43=. 

46'. 

64. 

66. 

69*. 

76'- 


our  Lady  was  borne 
then  thought  cornewall  King  these  palmers  had 
beene  in  Brittanie. 

?  MS.     Only  the  upper  paH  of  the  letters  is 
left. 

under  thrub  chadler. 

After  this  stanza  is  written,  in  the  left  margin 
oftheMS.,TheZAV&vi. 

homly  to  my  hurt.     Madden  read  hourly. 

The  top  line  is  pared  away. 

they  words. 

of  the  trubchandler. 

then  had  he. 

p',  i.  e.  pro  or  per,  me.     Madden. 

Attached  to  65  in  MS. 
,  ?MS. 
*.  Joined  with  77  in  MS. 

&  and  Arabic  numerals  have  been  frequently 
written  out. 


31 
THE   MARRIAGE   OF   SIR   GAWAIN 

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


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

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


*  Still  80  called :  near  Aiketgate,  Hesket.    Lysons,  Cum- 
berland, p.  112. 


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


31.    THE  MAKRIAGE   OP  SIR  GAWAIN 


289 


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

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

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


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

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


*  '  The  Weddynge  of  S'  Gawen  and  Dame  Eagnell,' 
Rawlinson  MS.,  C  86,  Bodleian  Library,  the  portion  con- 
taining the  poem  being  paper,  and  indicating  the  close  of 
Henry  VII's  reign.  The  poetn  is  in  six-line  stanzas,  and, 
with  a  leaf  that  is  wanting,  wonld  amount  to  about  925 
lines.  Madden's  Syr  Gawayne,  Ixiv,  Ixvii,  26,  298«-298y. 
37 


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


290 


31.    THE  MARRIAGE   OF  SIR  GAWAIN 


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

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

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

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


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

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


•  See  '  King  Henry,'  the  next  ballad. 

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

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


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

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


31.    THE   MARRIAGE   OF  SIR  GAWAIN 


291 


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

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

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


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

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

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


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


Which  alle  women  most  desire  : 
I  wolde  that  thou  were  a-fire ! 
So  Sir  Gawen  and  Dame  Ragnell,  w  474  f,  and  our  bal- 
lad, stanzas  29,  30. 


292 


31.    THE  MARRIAGE  OF  SIR  GAWAIN 


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

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

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


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

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

The  Wife  of  Bath's  Tale  is  made  into  a 
ballad,  or  what  is  called  a  sonnet, '  Of  a  Knight 
and  a  Fair  Virgin,'  in  The  Crown  Garland  of 
Golden  Roses,  compiled  by  Richard  Johnson, 
not  far  from  1600  :  see  the  Percy  Society  re- 
print, edited  bj'  W.  Chappell,  vol.  vi  of  the  se- 
ries, p.  68.  Upon  Chaucer's  story  is  founded 
Voltaire's  tale,  admirable  in  its  way,  of  Ce  qui 
plait  aux  Dames,  1762  ;  of  which  the  author 
writes,  1765,  November  4,  that  it  had  had 
great  success  at  Fontainebleau  in  the  form  of 
a  comic  opera,  entitled  La  F6e  Urgele.*  The 
amusing  ballad  of  The  Knight  and  Shep- 
herd's Daughter  has  much  in  common  with 
the  Wife  of  Bath's  Tale,  and  might,  if  we 
could  trace  its  pedigree,  go  back  to  a  common 
original.! 

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

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


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

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


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


31.    THE   MARRIAGE   OF  SIR  GAWAIN 


293 


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


sooner  was  Grfmr  abed  than  he  fell  asleep,  and 
when  he  woke,  he  saw  lying  by  him  almost  the 
fairest  woman  he  had  ever  laid  eyes  on,  and 
marvellously  like  his  true-love,  Lopthaena.  At 
the  bedside  he  saw  lying  the  troll-casing  which 
she  had  worn  ;  he  jumped  up  and  burned 
this.  The  woman  was  very  faint ;  he  sprin- 
kled her  with  water,  and  she  came  to,  and 
said.  It  is  well  for  both  of  us ;  I  saved  thy 
life  first,  and  thou  hast  freed  me  from  bon- 
dage. It  was  indeed  Lopthtena,  whom  the 
step-mother  had  transformed  into  a  horrible 
shape,  odious  to  men  and  trolls,  which  she 
should  never  come  out  of  till  a  man  should 
consent  to  three  things,  —  which  no  man  ever 
would,  —  to  accept  his  life  at  her  hands,  to 
kiss  her,  and  to  share  her  bed.  Grfms  saga 
loSinkinna,  Rafn,  Fornaldar  Sogur,  II,  143- 
52. 

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

'  The  Marriage  of  Sir  Gawaine,'  as  filled 
out  by  Percy  from  the  fragments  in  his  man- 
uscript, Reliques,  1765,  III,  11,  is  translated 
by  Bodmer,  I,  110;  by  Bothe,  p.  75;  by 
Knortz,  Lieder  u.  Romanzen  Alt-Englands,  p. 
135. 


1  KmGE  Aethtjr  Hues  in  merry  CarleUe, 
And  seemely  is  to  see, 
And  there  he  hath  with  him  Queene  Gene- 
ver, 
That  bride  soe  bright  of  blee. 


3  The  kiwg  kept  a  royall  Christmasse, 
Of  mirth  and  great  honor, 
And  when 


2  And  there  he  hath  with  [him]   Queene  Gene- 
ver, 
Thai  bride  soe  bright  in  bower, 
And  all  his  barons  about  him  stoode, 
TAot  were  both  stiffe  and  stowre. 


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


294 


31.    THE   MARRIAGE  OF  SIR  GAWAIN 


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


15  And  as  he  rode  over  a  more, 

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


6  And  when  he  came  to  merry  Carlile, 

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

7  And  there  came   to   him   his    cozen   Sir  Ga- 

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

said, 
'  Or  who  hath  done  thee  vnright  ?  ' 

8  '  0  peace,  O  peace,  thou  gentle  Gawaine, 

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

9  '  Ffor  when  I  came  to  Tearne  Wadling, 

A  bold  barron  there  I  fand. 
With  a  great  club  vpon  his  backe. 
Standing  stifEe  and  strong. 

10  '  And  he  asked  me  wether  I  wold  fight 

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

11  '  To  fight  wtth  him  I  saw  noe  cause  ; 

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

12  '  Therefor  this  is  my  ransome,  Gawaine, 

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

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


14  Then  king  Arthur  drest  him  for  to  ryde. 
In  one  soe  rich  array, 
Toward  the  fore-said  Tearne  Wadling, 
That  he  might  keepe  his  day. 


16  Then  there  as  shold  haue  stood  her  mouth, 

Then  there  was  sett  her  eye  ; 

The  other  was  in  her  forhead  fast. 

The  way  that  she  might  see. 

17  Her  nose  was  crooked  and  turnd  outward. 

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

18  To  halch  vpon  him,  King  Arthur, 

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

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

'  That  will  not  speak  to  me  ? 
Of  me  be  thou  notliing  dismayd, 
Tho  I  be  vgly  to  see. 

20  '  For  I  haue  halched  you  curteouslye, 

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

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

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

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

thur, 
Of  thy  owne  hearts  desiringe, 
Of  gentle  Gawaine 


23  And  when  he  came  to  the  Tearne  Wadling, 

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

24  And  then  he  tooke  King  Arthurs  letters  in  his 

hands. 
And  away  he  cold  them  fling. 
And  then  he  puld  out  a  good  browne  sword, 
And  cryd  himselfe  a  king. 


31.     THE   MARRIAGE   OF  SIR  GAWAIN 


295 


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

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

26  And  then  bespoke  him  noble  Arthur, 

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

27  He  said,  As  I  came  over  a  more, 

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

28  And  she  says  a  woman  will  haue  her  will, 

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

29  He  sayes,  An  early  vengeance  light  on  her ! 

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

30  But  heer  He  make  mine  avow  to  God 

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


31  Sii"  Lancelott  and  Sir  Steven  bold. 

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

32  Soe  did  Sir  Banier  and  Sir  Bore, 

Sir  Garrett  with  them  soe  gay, 
Soe  did  Sir  Tristeram  that  gentle  kwi^At, 
To  the  forrest  fi-esh  and  gay. 

33  And  when  he  came  to  the  greene  forrest, 

Vnderneath  a  greene  hoUy  tree. 
Their  sate  that  lady  in  red  scarlet 
That  vnseemly  was  to  see. 

34  Sir  Kay  beheld  this  ladys  face. 

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


35  Sir  Kay  beheld  the  lady  againe, 

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

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

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

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

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

38  Then  some  tooke  vp  their  hawkes  in  hast, 

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

39  And  then  be-spake  him  noble  'King  Arthur, 

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


40  Then  shee  said,  Choose  thee,  gentle  Gawaine, 

Truth  as  I  doe  say, 
Wether  thou  wilt  haue  me  in  this  liknesse 
In  the  night  or  else  in  the  day. 

41  And  tlien  bespake  hina  gentle  Gawaine, 

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

42  To  haue  thee  fowle  in  the  night 

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

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

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

44  And  then  bespake  him  gentle  Gawaine, 

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


296 


31.    THE  MARRIAGE   OF  SIR  GAWAIN 


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

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

46  My  father  was  an  old  knight, 

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

47  Shee  witched  me,  being  a  faire  young  lady, 

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

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


49 

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

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

Gawaine, 
'  And  amend  thd  of  thy  liffe ; 
I  sweare  this  is  the  same  lady 
That  I  marryed  to  my  wifEe.' 

51  Sir  Kay  kissed  that  lady  bright, 

Standing  vpon  his  fEeete ; 


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

52  '  Well,  cozen  Gawaine,'  sayes  Sir  Kay, 
'  Thy  chance  is  fallen  arright, 
For  thou  hast  gotten  one  of  the  fairest  maids 
1  euer  saw  with  my  sight.' 

63  '  It  is  my  fortune,'  said  Sir  Gawaine ; 
'  For  my  vnckle  Arthurs  sake 
I  am  glad  as  grasse  wold  be  of  raine, 
Great  ioy  that  I  may  take.' 

54  Sir   Gawaine    tooke    the    lady    by   the    one 

arme, 
Sir  Kay  tooke  her  by  the  tother. 
They  led  her  straight  to  'King  Arthur, 
As  they  were  brother  and  brother. 

55  King  Arthur  welcomed  them  there  all, 

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

56  Kin^  Arthur  beheld  that  lady  faire 

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

For  Sir  Gawaine  that  gentle  knight. 

57  Soe  did  the  knights,  both  more  and  lesse, 

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


1'.  Qqueene. 

3*.  Half  a  page  gone  from   the   MS.,  about  9 
stanzas ;  and  so  after  13>,  22',  30*,  39', 
48^ 
19^  Perhaps  sayes. 
23^.  he  fimde. 

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


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

margin  of  the  MS.     Furnivall. 
34'.  her  smire. 

shaine. 

with  one. 


37^ 
41^, 


43*.  seires. 


44^^. 
481. 


a  skill.     45'.  thou  see 
Carlist  B  .  .  . 
&  is  printed  and. 


32.    KING  HENRY 


297 


32 

KING   HENRY 

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


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

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

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

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

King  Helgi,  father  of  Hr61fr  Kraki,  in  con- 
sequence of  a  lamentable  misadventure,  was 
living  in  a  solitary  way  in  a  retired  lodge. 
One  stormy  Yule-night  there  was  a  loud  wail 


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

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

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


298 


32.    KING  HENRY 


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

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

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


in  these  with  revolting  details.  Her  exagger- 
ated appetite  also  is  found  in  the  romance  of 
The  Wedding  of  Sir  Gawen  and  Dame  Rag- 
nell,  see  p.  290.  The  occasion  on  which  she 
exhibits  it  is  there  the  wedding  feast,  and  the 
scene  consequently  resembles,  even  more  close- 
ly there  than  here,  what  we  meet  with  in  the 
Danish  ballads  of  '  Greve  Genselin,'  Grundt- 
vig.  No  16,  I,  222,  and  '  Tord  af  Havsgaard,' 
Grundtvig,  No  1,  I,  1,  IV,  580  (=  Kristensen, 
'  Thors  Hammer,'  I,  85,  No  35)  the  latter 
founded  on  the  ]?rymskvit5a,  or  Hamarsheimt, 
of  the  older  Edda.  In  a  Norwegian  version 
of  '  Greve  Genselin,'  Grundtvig,  IV,  732,  the 
feats  of  eating  and  di-inking  are  performed  not 
by  the  bride,  but  by  an  old  woman  who  acts 
as  bridesmaid,  brurekvinne.* 

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

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


1  Lat  never  a  man  a  wooing  wend 
That  lacketh  thingis  three  ; 
A  routh  o  gold,  an  open  heart, 
Ay  fu  o  charity. 


3  He  chas'd  the  deer  now  him  before, 
An  the  roe  down  by  the  den, 
TlU  the  fattest  buck  in  a'  the  flock 
King  Henry  he  has  slain. 


2  As  this  I  speak  of  King  Henry, 
For  he  lay  burd-alone  ; 
An  he  's  doen  him  to  a  jelly  hunt's  ha, 
Was  seven  miles  frae  a  town. 


4  0  he  has  doen  him  to  his  ha, 
To  make  him  beerly  cheer  ; 
An  in  it  came  a  griesly  ghost, 
Steed  stappin  i  the  fleer. 


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


translated  by  Prior,  I,  173,  and  by  Jainieson,  Illustrations  of 
Northern  Antiquities,  p.  310 ;  '  Tord  af  Havsgaard '  by  Prior, 
1,3. 


33.     KING   HENRY 


299 


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

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

6  Her  teeth  was  a'  like  teather  stakes, 

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

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

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

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

An  you  bring  him  here  to  me.' 

8  0  whan  he  slew  his  berry-brown  steed, 

Wow  but  his  heart  was  sair ! 
Shee  eat  him  [a']  up,  skin  an  bane. 
Left  na«thing  but  hide  an  hair. 

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

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

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

An  ye  bring  them  a'  to  me.' 


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

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

That  you  're  nae  welcome  ti  ? ' 
'  0  ye  sew  up  your  horse's  hide. 

An  bring  in  a  drink  to  me.' 

14  And  he 's  sewd  up  the  bloody  hide, 
A  puncheon  o  wine  put  in  ; 
She  drank  it  a'  up  at  a  waught, 
Left  na  ae  drap  ahin. 

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

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

16  0  pu'd  has  he  the  heather  green, 

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

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

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

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

Shoud  streak  down  by  my  side.' 


10  O  whan  he  slew  his  good  gray-hounds, 

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

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

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

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

An  ye  bring  them  here  to  me.' 

12  0  whan  he  slew  his  gay  gos-hawks, 

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


18  Whan  night  was  gane,  and  day  was  come, 

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

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

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

20  '  For  I  've  met  wi  mony  a  gentle  knight 

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


a.  13^  shew.     19'.  wiU. 

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

as  cited  by  Anderson,  is : 

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


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

1*.  And  fu  o  courtesey. 

2\  And  this  was  seen  o. 

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


300 


33.    KEMPY  KAY 


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

4.    He  's  taen  him  to  his  hunting  ha, 
For  to  make  burly  cheir  ; 
When  loud  the  wind  was  heard  to  sound, 
And  an  earthquake  rocked  the  floor. 

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

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

And  louder  houled  the  rising  wind 

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

Stood  stamping  on  the  floor. 

The  wind  and  darkness  are  not  of  Scoffs  iiv- 
vention,  for  nearly  all  that  is  not  in  b,  is 
found  in  Lewis,  too. 

5''  *.  Each  frighted  huntsman  fled  the  ha. 
And  left  the  king  alone. 

7*^.       That  ye  're  nae  weUcum  tee  ?  ' 

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


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

IIH       That  I  hae  left  to  gie  ?  ' 

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

121.  ijg  feiigfi      12^  bane  by  bane. 

14^^.  And  put  in  a  pipe  of  wine, 

14°.  up  a'  at  ae  draught.     14*.  drap  therein. 

15.  Between  ^  and  ' : 

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

15*.  0  ye  maun  pu  the  green  heather. 

IT-"'  ^.  Now  swear,  now  swear,  ye  king  Henrie, 
To  take  me  for  your  bride. 

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

20.  For  I  was  witched  to  a  ghastly  shape. 
All  by  my  stepdame's  skill, 
Till  I  should  meet  wi  a  courteous  knight 
Wad  gie  me  a'  my  will. 


33 

KEMPY   KAY 

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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


33.    KEMPY   KAY 


301 


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

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


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

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


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

1  Kempy  Kaye  's  a  wooing  gane, 

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

2  '  It  's   I  'm    coming   to    court   your   daughter 

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

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

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

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


3  *  My  dochter  she  's  a  thrifty  lass, 

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

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

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

5  '  Gae  scrape  yoursel,  and  gae  scart  yoursel, 

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

6  Sae  they  scrapit  her,  and  they  scartit  her, 

Like  the  face  of  an  aussy  pan  ; 

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

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

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


302 


33.    KBMPY  KAY 


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

7  His  teeth  they  were  like  tether-sticks, 

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

8  He  led  his  dochter  by  the  hand, 

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

9  nka  hair  intU  her  head 

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

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


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

11  Ilka  eye  intil  her  head 

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

12  Ilka  nail  upon  her  hand 

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


13  She  gied  to  him  a  gravat, 
0  the  auld  horse's  sheet. 
And  he  gied  her  a  gay  gold  ring, 
0  the  auld  couple-root. 


B 


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

1  Kjimpy  Kate  is  a  wooing  gane, 

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

2  '  Whar  are  ye  gaun,  O  Kempy  Kaye, 

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

And  think  na  ye  that 's  weel  dune  ? ' 

3  '  An  ye  be  gaun  to  court  a  wife. 

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

■    4  Whan  auld  Goling  cam  to  the  house, 
He  lookit  thro  a  hole. 
And  there  he  saw  the  dirty  drab 
Just  whisking  oure  the  coal. 

5  '  Rise  up,  rise  up  my  Fusome  Fug, 

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

6  Up  then  rose  the  Fusome  Fug, 

To  mak  her  foul  face  clean  ; 


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

7  She  rampit  out,  and  she  rampit  in. 

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

8  She  had  a  neis  upon  her  face 

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

9  She  had  twa  een  intil  her  head 

War  like  twa  rotten  plums  ; 
The  heavy  brows  hung  doun  her  face. 
And  0  I  vow  she  glooms ! 

10  He  gied  to  her  a  braw  silk  napkin, 

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

11  He  gied  to  her  a  braw  gowd  ring. 

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

12  Whan  thir  twa  lovers  had  met  thegither, 

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


33.    KEMPY  KAY 


303 


0 


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

1  Kempt  Kate  's  a  wooing  gane, 

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

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

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

3  '  My  dochter  she  's  a  thrifty  lass, 

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

4  '  Rise  up,  rise  up,  ye  dirty  slut. 

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

5  They  took  him  ben  to  the  fire  en, 

And  set  him  on  a  chair  ; 


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

6  The  een  that  was  in  our  bride's  head 

Was  like  twa  rotten  plooms  ; 
She  was  a  chaunler-chaftit  quean. 
And  0  but  she  did  gloom ! 

7  The  skin  that  was  on  our  bride's  breast 

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

8  The  hair  that  was  on  our  bride's  head 

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

9  Betwixd  Kempy's  shouthers  was  three  ells, 

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

10  So  aye  they  kissed,  and  aye  they  clapped, 
I  wat  they  kissed  weel ; 
The  slaver  that  hang  between  their  mouths 
Wad  hae  tethered  a  twa  year  auld  bill. 


Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  192. 

*  *  #  *  # 

1  The  father  came  unto  the  door. 

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

2  They  scartit  her,  and  scrapit  her, 

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

3  She  is  to  the  stoups  gane. 

There  la  nae  water  in ; 


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

4  Out  then  spak  her  auld  mither, 

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

5  0  she  is  to  the  taipy  tapples  gane, 

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

6  He 's  gien  her  a  gay  gold  ring. 

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


E 

Campbell  MSS,  II,  122. 

1  '  GuD  een,  gud  een,'  says  Chickmakin, 

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


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

2  '  My  daughter  Jean  's  a  thrifty  lass. 

She  's  spun  these  seven  lang  years  to  me. 


304 


33.    KEMPY  KAY 


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

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

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

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

And  wash  yer  foul  face  clean. 
For  they  are  to  be  here  the  night 

That  should  hae  been  here  yestreen.' 

5  Up  she  rose,  pat  on  her  clothes. 

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

6  She  rubbit  hersel,  she  scrubbit  hersel, 

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


7  His  teeth  they  were  like  tether-steeks. 

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

8  Uka  hair  into  his  head 

Was  like  a  heather-cowe, 

And  ilka  louse  that  lookit  out 

Was  like  a  brookit  ewe. 

9  Thae  twa  kissd  and  thae  twa  clapt, 

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

10  They  twa  kissd  and  they  twa  clapt, 

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

11  The  auld  wife  she  lay  in  her  bed : 

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


Campbell  MSS,  II,  101. 

1  As  I  cam  oer  yon  misty  muir. 

And  oer  yon  grass-green  lull. 
There  I  saw  a  campy  carle 

Going  to  the  mill. 
And  bar  aye  yer  bower  door  weel  weel, 
And  bar  aye  yer  bower  door  weel. 

2  I  lookit  in  at  her  window. 

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

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

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

4  He  gave  her  a  gay  cravat, 

'T  was  of  an  auld  horse-sheet ; 


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

5  He  laid  his  arms  about  her  neck, 

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

6  When  they  were  laid  in  marriage  bed. 

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

7  Ilka  pap  into  her  breasts 

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

8  Ilka  hair  into  her  head 

Was  like  a  heather-cow, 
And  ilka  louse  that  lookit  out 
Was  like  a  brookit  ewe. 


33.    KEMPy   KAY 


305 


Buchan's  MSS,  I,  133. 

1  King  Knappertt  he  's  a  hunting  gane, 

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

2  Then  he  met  in  wi  an  auld  woman. 

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

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

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

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

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

5  Then  up  she  raise,  an  awa  she  gaes, 

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

6  Aye  she  rubbed,  an  aye  she  scrubbed, 

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

7  King  Knapperty  he  came  in  at  the  door. 

Stood  even  up  in  the  floor  ; 


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

8  He  has  taen  her  in  his  arms  twa. 

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

9  He  has  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket. 

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

10  She  thankd  him  ance,  she  thankd  him  twice, 

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

11  These  lovers  bed  it  was  well  made. 

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

12  The  bolster  that  these  lovers  had 

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

13  The  draps  that  fell  frae  her  twa  een 

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

14  An  Uka  hair  that  was  in  their  head 

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


A.    S*"^.    Var.   For  Kempy  Kay  will  be  here  the 
night 
Or  else  the  mom  at  een. 

9*.    Var.      Was  like  a  lintseed  bow. 

These  variations  are  found  in  Sharpe's  copy. 
Tlie  first  seven  stanzas  are  put  in  the  order  1, 


2\ 
3*. 

41, 

5-\ 


6,  7,  3,  2,  4,  5. 
I  'm  coming. 

Full  ten  wobs  it  would  be. 
'.  fair  maiden,  fairest  maiden, 
bruchty.     6*.  And  in. 
39 


7*.  Between  his  een.     10^  tauchty  is  mis- 
printed lauchty. 
10*.  War  hinging. 
11*.  An  down  down. 

12'.  teeth,  no  doubt  to  indicate  the  pronun- 
ciation. 

a.  4^.  Whan   Kempy   Kaye.      Other  copies 

show  that  it  must  he  the  father,  and 
not  tlie  wooer. 
6'.  ae,  with  ay  in  the  margin  :  qu.  aye  as  ? 

b.  The  variations  of  the  Ballad  Book  are  ap- 

parently arbitrary. 
V.  Far  far.     8*.  o  dirt 


306 


34.    KEMP  OWYNE 


After  9  follows  : 

Ilka  hair  that  was  on  her  head 

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

Was  like  a  lintseed  bow. 

a*  succeeds,   with  Kempy   Kaye  for  auld 
Goling.  aTid  is   necessariltj  transferred 
if  the  reading  Kempy  Kaye  is  retaitied. 
Tlie  order  of  the  first  five  stanzas  in  the  MS 

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

fourth  verse,  and  so  with  D. 
1*'  ^.  In  Motherwell's  Minstrelsy,  Appendix,  p. 
xxiv,  No  XXX, 


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

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

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

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

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

the  end  of  the  stanza,  as. in  C,  D,  has  been 
adopted  into  the  verse  in  1,  2,  6,  10(?),  11, 
in  which  stanzas  the  eve7i  lines  are  of  four 
accents  instead  of  three.  2,  6  can  be  easily 
restored,  on  the  model  of  C  3,  A.  6. 
5*.  in  the  water. 
G.  I,  I,  I  is  added  as  burden  to  every  second  and 
fourth  line  j  except  1%  which  adds  high, 
high,  and  2*,  only  I,  I. 


34 
KEMP   OWYNE 


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


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


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


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

But  an  Icelandic  saga  comes  near  enough  to 
the  story  of  the  ballad  as  given  in  A  to  show 
where  its  connections  lie.  A\s6\  and  a  brother 
and  sister  are  all  transformed  by  a  stepmother, 
a  handsome  woman,  much  younger  than  her 
husband.  Als6rs  heavy  weird  is  to  be  a 
nondescript  monster  with  a  horse's  tail,  hoofs, 
and  mane,  white  eyes,  big  mouth,  and  huge 
hands,  and  never  to  be  released  from  the  spell 
till  a  king's  son  shall  consent  to  kiss  her. 
One  night  when  Hjdlmt^r  had  landed  on  a 
woody  island,  and  it  had  fallen  to  him  to  keep 
watch,  he  heard  a  great  din  and  crashing  in 
the  woods,  so  that  the  oaks  trembled.  Pres- 
ently this  monster  came  out   of   the  thicket 


34.    KEMP   OWYNE 


307 


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

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

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


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

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

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

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


*  The  incident  of  a  woman  trying  to  move  a  man  who 

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


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


308 


34.    KEMP  OWYNE 


ische  Sagen  u.  Brauclie,  I,  196,  No  214 ; 
Schonliuth,  Die  Burgen  u.  s.  w.  Badens  u.  der 
Pfalz,  I,  105 ;  Stober,  Die  Sagen  des  Elsasses, 
p.  346,  No  277,  p.  248,  No  190  ;  Curtze,  Volks- 
iiberlieferungen  aus  Waldeck,  p.  198  ;  Som- 
mer,  Sagen,  Miirehen  u.  Gebriiucbe  aus  Sach- 
sen  u.  Tbiiringen,  p.  21,  No  16  ;  Schambacb 
u.  Muller,  p.  104,  No  132  ;  Miillenhoff,  p.  680, 
No  597  ;  Wolf,  Hessiscbe  Sagen,  No  46 ;  etc., 
etc. :  also,  Kreutzwald,  Ebstnische  Marcben, 
by  Lowe,  No  19,  p.  270  f.  So  in  some  forms 
of  '  Beauty  and  the  Beast : '  Toppen,  Aber- 
glauben  aus  Masuren,  p.  142  ;  Mikulicic,  Nar- 
odne  Pripovietke,  p.  1,  No  1 ;  Afanasief,  VII, 
153,  No  15  ;  Coelho,  Contos  populares  portu- 
guezes,  p.  69,  No  29.* 

Rivals  or  peers  of  Owain  among  romantic 
knights  are,  first,  Lanzelet,  in  Ulrich  von  Zat- 
zikhoven's  poem,  who  kisses  a  serpent  on  the 
mouth  once,  which,  after  bathing  in  a  spring 
(see  '  Tarn  Lin  '),  becomes  the  finest  woman 
ever  seen  :  vv  7836-7939.  Brandimarte,  again, 
in  Orlando  Innamorato,  lib.  n.,  c.  XXVI, 
stanzas  7-15  ;  and  Carduino,  I  Cantari  di  Car- 
duino,  Rajna,  stanzas  49,  54  f,  61-64,  pp  35- 
41.  Le  Bel  Inconnu  is  an  involuntary  in- 
strument in  such  a  disenchantment,  for  the 
snake  fascinates  him  first  and  kisses  him  with- 
out his  knowledge ;  he  afterwards  goes  to 
sleep,  and  finds  a  beautiful  woman  standing 
at  his  head  when  he  wakes :  ed.  Hippeau,  p. 
110  ff,  V.  3101  ff.  The  English  Libius  Dis- 
conius  is  kist  or  he  it  wist,  and  the  dragon 
at  once  turns  to  a  beautiful  woman :  Percy 
MS.,  Hales  &  Furnivall,  II,  493  f;  Ritson, 
Romances,  II,  84  f.  Espertius,  in  Tiran  le 
Blanc,  is  so  overcome  with  fear  that  he  cannot 
kiss  the  dragon,  —  a  daughter  of  Hippocrates, 
transformed  by  Diana,  in  the  island  of  Lango, 
—  but  Espertius  not  running  away,  as  two 
men  before  him  had  done,  the  dragon  kisses 
him  with  equally  good  effect :  Caylus,  Tiran 

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

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


le  Blanc,  11,  334-39.  This  particular  disen- 
chantment had  not  been  accomplished  down  to 
Sir  John  Mandeville's  time,  for  he  mentions 
only  the  failures  :  Voyage  and  Ti-avel,  c.  iv, 
pp  28-31,  ed.  1725.  Amadis  d'Astra  touches 
two  dragons  on  the  face  and  breast,  and  re- 
stores them  to  young-ladyhood :  Historia  del 
Principe  Sferamundi,  the  13th  book  of  Amadis 
of  Gaul,  P.  II,  c.  xcvii,  pp  458-462,  Venice, 
1610,  This  feat  is'  shown  by  the  details  to  be 
only  a  variation  of  the  story  in  Tiran  le 
Blancf 

The  Rev.  Mr  Lamb,  of  Norham,  communi- 
cated to  Hutchinson,  author  of  '  A  View  of 
Northumberland,'  a  ballad  entitled  '  The  Laid- 
ley  Worm  of  Spindleston  Heughs,'  with  this 
harmless  preamble  :  "  A  song  500  years  old, 
made  by  the  old  Mountain  Bard,  Duncan  Fra- 
siei',  living  on  Cheviot,  A.  D.  1270.  From  an 
ancient  manuscript."  This  composition  of 
Mr  Lamb's —  for  nearly  every  line  of  it  is  his 
—  is  not  only  based  on  popular  tradition,  but 
evidently  preserves  some  small  fragments  of  a 
popular  ballad,  and  for  this  reason  is  given  in 
an  Appendix.  There  is  a  copy  deviating  but 
very  little  from  the  print  in  Kinloch's  MSS,  I, 
187.  It  was  obtained  from  the  recitation  of 
an  old  woman  in  Berwickshire.  J  In  this  re- 
cited version  the  Child  of  Wynd,  or  Childy 
Wynd  (Child  0-wyne),  has  become  Child  o 
Wane  (Child  0-wayn). 

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

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

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


34.    KEMP  OWYNE 


309 


Buchan,  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  II,  78,  from 
Mr  Nicol  of  Strichen,  as  learned  in  his  youth  from  old  peo- 
pje  ;  Motherwell's  Minstrelsy,  p.  374;  Motherwell's  MS.,  p. 
448. 

1  Heb  mother  died  when  she  was  young, 

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

2  She  served  her  with  foot  and  hand, 

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

She  threw  her  in  ower  Craigy's  sea. 

3  Says,  '  Lie  you  there,  dove  Isabel, 

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

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

Oh  borrowed  shall  you  never  be  !  ' 

4  Her  breath  grew  Strang,  her  hair  grew  lang. 

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

Thought  that  a  savage  beast  was  she. 

5  These  news  did  come  to  Kemp  Owyne, 

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

6  Her  breath  was  Strang,  her  hair  was  lang, 

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

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

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

'  That  I  have  found  in  the  green  sea ; 


And  while  your  body  it  is  on. 

Drawn  shall  your  blood  never  be  ; 

But  if  you  touch  me,  tail  or  fin, 

I  vow  my  belt  your  death  shall  be.' 

8  He  stepped  in,  gave  her  a  kiss, 

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

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

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

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

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

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

I  swear  my  ring  your  death  shall  be.' 

10  He  stepped  in,  gfave  her  a  kiss, 

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

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

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

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

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

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

I  swear  my  brand  your  death  shall  be.' 

12  He  stepped  in,  gave  her  a  kiss. 

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

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

As  fair  a  woman  as  fair  could  be. 


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

1  '  Come  here,  come  here,  you  freely  feed, 
An  lay  your  head  low  on  my  knee  ; 
The  hardest  weird  I  will  you  read 
That  eer  war  read  to  a  lady. 


2  '  O  meikle  dollour  sail  you  dree. 

An  ay  the  sat  seas  oer  ye  ['s]  swim ; 
An  far  mair  dollour  sail  ye  dree 

On  EastmuLr  craigs,  or  ye  them  dim. 

3  '  I  wot  ye's  be  a  weary  wight, 

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

Come  to  the  craig  and  thrice  kiss  thee.' 


310 


34.    KEMP  OWYNE 


4  O  meickle  dollour  did  she  dree, 

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

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

Gin  he  would  come  till  her  han. 

5  Now  word  has  gane  to  Kempion 

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

6  '  Now  by  my  sooth,'  says  Kempion, 

'  This  fiery  beast  I  ['U]  gang  to  see  ; ' 
'  An  by  my  sooth,'  says  Segi-amour, 
'  My  ae  brother,  I  'U  gang  you  wi.' 

7  0  biggit  ha  they  a  bonny  boat, 

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

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

I  wot  she  gard  the  red  fire  flee. 

8  '  0  Segramour,  keep  my  boat  afloat. 

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

9  *  0  out  o  my  stye  I  winna  rise  — 

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

Come  to  the  craig  an  thrice  kiss  me.' 

10  He  's  louted  him  oer  the  Eastmuir  craig, 

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

The  fieryest  beast  that  ever  was  seen. 

11  '  0  out  o  my  stye  I  winna  rise  — 

An  it  is  na  for  fear  o  thee  — 


Till  Kempion,  the  kingis  son. 

Come  to  the  craig  an  thrice  kiss  me.' 

12  He  louted  him  oer  the  Eastmuir  craig. 

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

The  fieryest  beast  that  ever  you  saw. 

13  '  0  out  o  my  stye  I  winna  rise  — 

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

Come  to  the  craig  an  thrice  kiss  me.' 

14  He  's  louted  him  oer  the  Eastmuir  craig. 

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

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

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

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

My  true  love,  that  misshajjit  thee  ?  ' 

16  '  It  was  na  wolf  into  the  wood, 

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

17  '  0  a  heavier  weird  light  her  upon 
Than  ever  fell  on  wile  woman ; 

Her  hair  's  g^row  rough,  an  her  teeth  's  grow 

lang. 
An  on  her  four  feet  sal  she  gang. 

18  '  Nane  sail  tack  pitty  her  upon, 

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


Buchan  gives    4-6   in  two  six-line  stanzas. 
There  are  a  few  trivial  diversities  between 
Motherwell's  manuscript,  or  my  copy  of  it, 
and  his   printed  text,   which  conforms   to 
Buchan's. 
a.    Written  in  long  or  double  lines  in  the  man- 
uscript. 
2^  4=.  or. 
5'.  a  besure. 
8*.  landy  mair 


11*.  twice. 

16'.  wicked  is  inserted  before  stepmother, 
seemingly  by  Jamieson. 
The  first  stanza,  as  given  by  Anderson, 
Nichols,  Literary  Illustrations,  vii,  177,  is  : 

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

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


1*.  heaviest.     1*.  gaye  ladye. 
2'.  ye'se.     2*.  when  ye. 


34.    KEMP   OWYNE 


311 


2'.  ye'se.     2*.  when  ye. 
3^  I  weird  ye  to  a  fiery  beast, 
i  =  a  4°'  *  -|-  a  5^'  '^ :  a  5^  *  omitted  : 


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

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

6*.  wi  thee. 

7  oviits  a*-  *.     7^  But  a  mUe  before. 

7*.  Around  them  she. 

8^.  oer  near.     8'.  will  sure. 

8*.  to  a'  the  land  and  mair. 

After  8  is  inserted  : 

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

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

9'.  stythe.     9^  awe  o  thee. 


101. 
111. 

121. 
131. 

13". 
141. 
151- 


lO''.  gien  the  monster. 
And  not  for  a'  thy  bow 


dizzy  crag, 
stythe.    ll'' 

nor  thee. 
Estmere  craigs. 
my  den.     13^.  Nor   flee   it  for  the 

feir  o  thee. 
Kempion,  that  courteous  knight, 
lofty  craig.     14*.  loveliest  lady  eer. 
'.    After  this  is  inserted  : 


They  surely  had  a  heart  o  stane, 
Could  put  thee  to  such  misery. 


15*^  make  a  separate  stanza. 
15',  161.  warwolf  in  the  wood. 

16^  mermaid  in  the  sea. 

my  ain  true. 

weird  shall  light  her  ou. 

Her  hair  shall  grow  .  .  .  teeth  grow. 

In  Wormeswood  she  aye  shall  won. 

'.  And  sighing  said  that  weary  wight, 
I  doubt  that  day  I  '11  never  see. 


l5^ 

15«. 

171. 

17«. 

18'. 
18^ 


APPENDIX 


THE  LAIDLEY  WORM  OF  SPINDLESTON 
HEUGHS. 

A  View  of  Northnmberland,  by  W.  Hutchinson,  Anno 
1776,  Newcastle,  1778,  II,  162-64.  Communicated  by  the 
Rev.  Mr  Lamb,  of  Norham. 

Kinloch's  account  of  the  tradition  in  relation  to 
the  queen,  as  it  maintains  itself  in  Berwickshire,  is 
quite  in  accord  with  German  sagen  about  enchanted 
ladies,  innocent  or  guilty,  and  as  such  may  be 
worth  giving:  Kinloch  MSS,  I,  187. 

"  Though  the  ballad  mentions  that  the  queen  was 
transformed  into  '  a  spiteful  toad  of  monstrous 
size,'  and  was  doomed  in  that  form  to  wend  on  the 
earth  until  the  end  of  the  world,  yet  the  tradition 
of  the  country  gives  another  account  of  the  endur- 
ance of  her  enchantment.  It  is  said  that  in  form  of 
a  toad  as  big  as  a  '  clockin  hen '  she  is  doomed  to 
expiate  her  guilt  by  confinement  in  a  cavern  in 
Bamborough  castle,  in  which  she  is  to  remain  in  her 
enchanted  shape  until  some  one  shall  have  the  har- 
dihood to  break  the  spell  by  penetrating  the  cavern, 
whose  '  invisible '  door  only  opens  every  seven  years, 
on  Christmas  eve.     The  adventurer,  after  entering 


the  cavern,  must  take  the  sword  and  horn  of  the 
ChUde  of  Wane,  which  hang  on  the  wall,  and  hav- 
ing unsheathed  and  resheathed  the  sword  thrice,  and 
wound  three  blasts  on  the  horn,  he  must  kiss  the 
toad  three  times ;  upon  which  the  enchantment  wUl 
be  dissolved,  and  the  queen  wUl  recover  her  human 
form. 

"  Many  adventurers,  it  is  said,  have  attempted  to 
disenchant  the  queen,  but  have  all  failed,  having 
immediately  fallen  into  a  trance,  something  similar 
to  the  princes  in  the  Arabian  tale  who  went  in 
search  of  the  Talking  Bird,  Singing  Tree,  and  Yel- 
low Water.  The  last  one,  it  is  said,  who  made  the 
attempt  was  a  countryman,  about  sixty  years  ago, 
who,  having  watched  on  Christmas  eve  the  opening 
of  the  door,  entered  the  cavern,  took  the  sword  and 
horn  from  the  wall,  unsheathed  and  resheathed  the 
sword  thrice,  blew  three  blasts  on  the  horn,  and  was 
proceeding  to  the  final  disenchantment  by  kissing  the 
toad,  which  he  had  saluted  twice,  when,  perceiving 
the  various  strange  sleepers  to  arise  from  the  floor, 
his  courage  failed,  and  he  fled  from  the  cavern,  hav- 
ing just  attained  the  outside  of  the  door  when  it 
suddenly  shut  with  a  loud  clap,  catcliing  hold  of  the 
skirt  of  his  coat,  which  was  torn  o£E  and  left  in  the 

door. 

And  none  since  that  time 
To  cater  the  cavern  presume." 


312 


34.    KEMP  OWYNE 


1  The  king  is  gone  from  Bambrough  castle, 

Long  may  the  princess  mourn ; 
Long  may  she  stand  on  the  castle  wall, 
Looking  for  his  return. 

2  She  has  knotted  the  keys  upon  a  string, 

And  with  her  she  has  them  taen, 
She  has  cast  them  oer  her  left  shoulder, 
And  to  the  gate  she  is  gane. 

3  She  tripped  out,  she  tripped  in, 

She  tript  into  the  yard; 
But  it  was  more  for  the  king's  sake. 
Than  for  the  queen's  regard. 

4  It  fell  out  on  a  day  the  king 

Brought  the  queen  with  him  home, 
And  all  the  lords  in  our  country 
To  welcome  them  did  come. 

5  '  O  welcome,  father,'  the  lady  cries, 

'  Unto  your  halls  and  bowers; 
And  so  are  you,  my  stepmother. 
For  all  that  is  here  is  yours.' 


6  A  lord  said,  wondering  while  she 
This  princess  of  the  North 
Surpasses  all  of  female  kind 
In  beauty  and  in  worth. 


7  The  envious  queen  replied:  At  least. 
You  might  have  excepted  me; 
In  a  few  hours  I  will  her  bring 
Down  to  a  low  degree. 


IS  Word  went  east,  and  word  went  west. 
And  word  is  gone  over  the  sea, 
That  a  laidley  worm  in  Spindleston  Heughs 
Would  ruin  the  north  country. 

14  Word  went  east,  and  word  went  west, 

And  over  the  sea  did  go  ; 
The  Child  of  Wynd  got  wit  of  it, 
Which  filled  his  heart  with  woe. 

15  He  called  straight  his  merry  men  all, 

They  thirty  were  and  three: 

'  I  wish  I  were  at  Spindleston, 

This  desperate  worm  to  see. 

16  '  We  have  no  time  now  here  to  waste. 

Hence  quickly  let  us  sail  ; 
My  only  sister  Margaret, 
Something,  I  fear,  doth  ail.' 

1 7  They  built  a  ship  without  delay. 

With  masts  of  the  rown  tree. 
With  fluttering  sails  of  silk  so  fine, 
And  set  her  on  the  sea. 

18  They  went  aboard;  the  wind  with  speed 

Blew  them  along  the  deep; 
At  length  they  spied  an  huge  square  tower. 
On  a  rock  high  and  steep. 

19  The  sea  was  smooth,  the  weather  clear; 

When  they  approached  nigher, 
King  Ida's  castle  they  well  knew, 
And  the  banks  of  Bambroughshire. 


8  I  will  her  liken  to  a  laidley  worm, 

That  warps  about  the  stone. 
And  not  till  Childy  Wynd  comes  back 
Shall  she  again  be  won. 

9  The  princess  stood  at  the  bower  door, 

Laughing,  who  could  her  blame  V 
But  eer  the  next  day's  sun  went  down, 
A  long  worm  she  became. 

10  For  seven  miles  east,  and  seven  miles  west, 
And  seven  miles  north  and  south, 
No  blade  of  grass  or  corn  could  grow. 
So  venomous  was  her  mouth. 


20  The  queen  looked  out  at  her  bower-window, 

To  see  what  she  could  see ; 
There  she  espied  a  gallant  ship. 
Sailing  upon  the  sea. 

21  When  she  beheld  the  silken  sails. 

Full  glancing  in  the  sun, 
To  sink  the  ship  she  sent  away 
Her  witch-wives  every  one. 

22  Their  spells  were  vain ;  the  hags  returned 

To  the  queen  in  sorrowful  mood, 

Crying  that  witches  have  no  power 

Where  there  is  rown-tree  wood. 


11  The  milk  of  seven  stately  cows  — 

It  was  costly  her  to  keep  — 
Was  brought  her  daily,  which  she  drank 
Before  she  went  to  sleep. 

1 2  At  this  day  may  be  seen  the  cave 

Which  held  her  folded  up, 
And  the  stone  trough,  the  very  same 
Out  of  which  she  did  sup. 


23  Her  last  effort,  she  sent  a  boat. 

Which  in  the  haven  lay. 
With  armed  men  to  board  the  ship, 
But  they  were  driven  away. 

24  The  worm  leapt  up,  the  worm  leapt  down, 

She  plaited  round  the  stane; 
And  ay  as  the  ship  came  to  the  land 
She  banged  it  off  again. 


35.    ALLISON  GROSS 


313 


25  The  Child  then  ran  out  of  her  reach 

The  ship  on  Budle  sand, 
And  jumping  into  the  shallow  sea, 
Securely  got  to  land. 

26  And  now  he  drew  his  berry-brown  sword, 

And  laid  it  on  her  head, 
And  swore,  if  she  did  harm  to  him, 
That  he  would  strike  her  dead. 

27  '  O  quit  thy  sword,  and  bend  thy  bow, 

And  give  me  kisses  three  ; 
For  though  I  am  a  poisonous  worm, 
No  hurt  I  will  do  to  thee. 

28  '  O  quit  thy  sword,  and  bend  thy  bow. 

And  give  me  kisses  three; 
If  I  am  not  won  eer  the  sun  go  down. 
Won  I  shall  never  be.' 

29  He  quitted  his  sword,  he  bent  his  bow, 

He  gave  her  kisses  three; 
She  crept  into  a  hole  a  worm, 
But  stept  out  a  lady. 

30  No  cloathing  had  this  lady  fine. 

To  keep  her  from  the  cold ; 
He  took  his  mantle  from  him  about, 
And  round  her  did  it  fold. 

31  He  has  taken  his  mantle  from  him  about, 

And  it  he  wrapt  her  in, 
And  they  are  up  to  Bambrongh  castle, 
As  fast  as  they  can  win. 

32  His  absence  and  her  serpent  shape 

The  king  had  long  deplored ; 
He  now  rejoiced  to  see  them  both 
Again  to  him  restored. 


33  The  queen  they  wanted,  whom  they  found 

All  pale,  and  sore  afraid, 
Because  she  knew  her  power  must  yield 
To  Childy  Wynd's,  who  said : 

34  '  Woe  be  to  thee,  thou  wicked  witch. 

An  ill  death  mayest  thou  dee ; 
As  thou  my  sister  hast  likened. 
So  likened  shalt  thou  be. 

35  '  I  will  turn  you  into  a  toad, 

That  on  the  ground  doth  wend. 
And  won,  won  shalt  thou  never  be, 
Till  this  world  hath  an  end.' 

36  Now  on  the  sand  near  Ida's  tower. 

She  crawls  a  loathsome  toad. 
And  venom  spits  on  every  maid 
She  meets  upon  her  road. 

37  The  virgins  all  of  Bambrough  town 

Will  swear  that  they  have  seen 

This  spiteful  toad,  of  monstrous  size, 

Whilst  walking  they  have  been. 

38  All  folks  believe  within  the  shire 

This  story  to  be  true. 
And  they  all  run  to  Spindleston, 
The  cave  and  trough  to  view. 

39  This  fact  now  Duncan  Frasier, 

Of  Cheviot,  sings  in  rhime, 
Lest  Bambroughshire  men  should  forget 
Some  part  of  it  in  time. 


28».  son. 


35 

ALLISON   GROSS 

'  Allison  Gross,'  Jamieson-Brown  MS.,  fol.  40. 


'  AuLiisON  Gkoss  '  was  printed  by  Jamie- 
son,  Popular  Ballads,  II,  187,  without  devia- 
tion from  the  manuscript  save  in  spelling. 

In  a  Greek  tale,  a  nereid,  that  is  elf  or  fairy, 
turns  a  youth  who  had  refused  to  espouse  her 

40 


into  a  snake,  the  curse  to  continue  till  he  finds 
another  love  who  is  as  fair  as  she :  '  Die 
Schonste,'  B.  Schmidt,  Griechische  Marchen, 
etc.,  No  10.  This  tale  is  a  variety  of  '  Beauty 
and  the   Beast,'  one   of  the  numerous   wild 


314 


35.    ALLISON   GROSS 


growths  from  that  ever  charming  French 
story.* 

An  elf,  a  hill-troll,  a  mermaid,  make  a  young 
man  offers  of  splendid  gifts,  to  obtain  his  love 
or  the  promise  of  his  faith,  in  '  Elveskud,' 
Grundtvig,  No  47,  many  of  the  Danish  and 
two  of  the  Norwegian  copies ;  '  Hertig  Magnus 
och  Elfvonia,'  Afzelius,  III,  172 ;  '  Hr.  Mag- 
nus og  BjiErgtrolden,'  Grundtvig,  No  48,  Ar- 
widsson,  No  147  B  ;  '  Herr  Magnus  och  Hafs- 
troUet,'  Afzelius,  No  95,  Bugge,  No  11 ;  a 
lind-worm,  similarly,  to  a  young  woman,  '  Lin- 
dormen,'  Grundtvig,  No  65.  Magnus  answers 
the  hill-troll  that  he  should  be  glad  to  plight 
faith  with  her  were  she  like  other  women,  but 
she  is  the  ugliest  troll  that  could  be  found : 
Grundtvig,  II,  121,  A  6,  B  7  ;  Arwidsson,  II, 
303,  B  5 ;  Afzelius,  III,  169,  st.  5,  173,  st.  6. 
This  is  like  what  we  read  in  stanza  7  of  our 
ballad,  but  the  answer  is  inevitable  in  any 
such  case.     Magnus  comes  off  scot-free. 

The  queen  of  the  fairies  undoing  the  spell 
of  the  witch  is  a  remarkable  feature,  not  par- 
alleled, so  far  as  I  know,  in  English  or  north- 
ern tradition.  The  Greek  nereids,  however, 
who  do  pretty  much  everything,  good  or  bad, 
that  is  ascribed  to  northern  elves  or  fairies, 
and  even  bear  an  appellation  resembling  that 


by  which  fairies  are  spoken  of  in  Scotland  and 
Ireland,  "  the  good  damsels,"  "  the  good  la- 
dies," have  a  queen  who  is  described  as  taking 
no  part  in  the  unfriendly  acts  of  her  subjects, 
but  as  being  kindly  disposed  towards  mankind, 
and  even  as  repairing  tlie  mischief  which  sub- 
ordinate sprites  have  done  against  her  will. 
If  now  the  fairy  queen  might  interpose  in  be- 
half of  men  against  her  own-  kith  and  kin, 
much  more  likely  would  she  be  to  exert  her- 
self to  thwai-t  the  malignity  of  a  witch. f 

The  object  of  the  witch's  blowing  thrice  on 
a  grass-green  horn  in  8^  is  not  clear,  for  noth- 
ing comes  of  it.  In  the  closely  related  ballad 
which  follows  this,  a  witch  uses  a  horn  to 
summon  the  sea-fishes,  among  whom  there  is 
one  who  has  been  the  victim  of  her  spells. 
The  horn  is  appropriate.  Witches  were  sup- 
posed to  blow  horns  when  they  joined  the 
wild  hunt,  and  horn-blower,  "  hornblase,"  is 
twice  cited  by  Grimm  as  an  equivalent  to 
witch :  Deutsche  Mythologie,  p.  886. 

Translated  by  Grundtvig,  Engelske  og 
skotske  Folkeviser,  No  19 ;  by  Rosa  Warrens, 
Schottische  Volkslieder,  No  7  ;  Knortz,  Lieder 
und  Romanzen  Alt-Englands,  No  9;  Loeve- 
Veimars,  Ballades  de  I'Angleterre,  p.  353. 


1  O  Allison  Gross,  that  lives  in  yon  towr, 

The  ugliest  witch  i  the  north  country, 
Has  trysted  me  ae  day  up  till  her  bowr, 
An  morniy  fair  speech  she  made  to  me. 

2  She  streaked  my  head,  an  she  kembed  my  hair, 

An  she  set  me  down  saftly  on  her  knee  ; 
Says,  Gin  ye  will  be  my  lemman  so  true, 
Sae  monny  braw  things  as  I  woud  you  gi. 

3  She  showd  me  a  mantle  o  red  scarlet, 

Wi  gouden  flowrs  an  fringes  fine ; 
Says,  Gin  ye  will  be  my  lemman  so  true, 
This  goodly  gift  it  sal  be  thine. 


4  '  Awa,  awa,  ye  ugly  witch, 

Hand  far  awa,  an  lat  me  be  ; 
I  never  will  be  your  lemman  sae  true, 
An  I  wish  I  were  out  o  your  company.' 

5  She  neist  brought  a  sark  o  the  saftest  silk, 

Well  wrought  wi  pearles  about  the  ban ; 
Says,  Gin  you  wiU  be  my  ain  true  love, 
This  goodly  gift  you  sal  comman. 

6  She  showd  me  a  cup  of  the  good  red  gold. 

Well  set  wi  jewls  sae  fair  to  see  ; 
Says,  Gin  you  will  be  my  lemman  sae  true, 
This  goodly  gift  1  wiU  you  gi. 


*  Of  these  Dr  Relnhold  Kohler  has  given  me  a  note  of 
more  than  twenty.  The  French  tale  itself  had,  in  all  likeli- 
hood, a  popular  foundation. 


t  B.  Schmidt,  Das  Volksleben  der  Neugriechen,  pp  100  f, 
107,  123.  Euphemistically  the  nereids  are  called  rj  KoAals 
a.px6i'Tta'o'ats,  p*  Ka\als  KvpdBfv,  ^  Ka\6KapSais,  rj  KaXdrvx^ts ; 
their  sovereign  is  fi  /j.eyd\ri  Kvpd,  rj  irpiinr],  etc. 


36.    THE  LAILY   WORM   AND  THE   MACHBEL   OF  THE  SEA 


316 


7  '  Awa,  awa,  ye  ugly  witch, 

Had  far  awa,  and  lat  me  be  ; 
For  I  woudna  ance  kiss  your  ugly  mouth 
For  a'  the  gifts  that  ye  coud  gi.' 

8  She  's  tumd  her  right  and  roun  about, 

An  thrice  she  blaw  on  a  grass-green  horn, 
An  she  sware  by  the  meen  and  the  stars  abeen, 
That  she  'd  gar  me  rue  the  day  I  was  bom. 

9  Then  out  has  she  taen  a  silver  wand. 

An    she 's   tumd  her  three  times  roun  an 

roun; 
She  's  mutterd  sich  words  till   my  strength  it 

faild, 
An  I  fell  down  senceless  upon  the  groun. 

10  She  's  tumd  me  into  an  ugly  woi-m, 

And  gard  me  toddle  about  the  tree ; 


An  ay,  on  Uka  Saturdays  night, 
My  sister  Maisry  came  to  me, 

11  Wi  silver  bason  an  sUver  kemb, 

To  kemb  my  heady  upon  her  knee; 
But  or  I  had  kissd  her  ugly  mouth, 
I  'd  rather  a  toddled  about  the  tree. 

12  But  as  it  fell  out  on  last  HaUow-even, 

When  the  seely  court  was  ridin  by. 
The  queen  lighted  down  on  a  gowany  bank, 
Nae  far  frae  the  tree  where  I  wont  to  lye. 

13  She  took  me  up  in  her  mUk-white  ban, 

An  she  's  stroakd  me  three  times  oer  her 
knee ; 
She  chang'd  me  again  to  my  ain  proper  shape. 
An  I  nae  mair  maun  toddle  about  the  tree. 


36 
THE   LAILY  WORM   AND   THE   MACHREL   OF   THE   SEA 

Skene  MS.,  p.  30 :  taken  down  from  recitation  in  the  north  of  Scotland,  in  1802  or  1803. 


Somewhat  mutilated,  and  also  defaced, 
though  it  be,  this  ballad  has  certainly  never 
been  retouched  by  a  pen,  but  is  pure  tradition. 
It  has  the  first  stanza  in  common  with  '  Kemp 
Owyne,'  and  shares  more  than  that  with  '  Al- 
lison Gross.'  But  it  is  independent  of  '  Alli- 
son Gross,'  and  has  a  far  more  original  sound. 

Maisry's  services  in  washing  and  combing 
are  more  conceivable  when  rendered  by  a  maid 
in  her  proper  shape,  as  in  '  Allison  Gross,'  than 
when  attributed  to  a  machrel  of  the  sea ;  and 
it  is  likely  that  the  machrel  returned  to  her 
own  figure  every  Saturday,  and  that  this  is  one 
of  the  points  lost  from  the  story.  It  is  said, 
here  as  in  '  Allison  Gross,'  that  Maisry  kames 
the  laily  head  on  her  knee.*     It  would  be  a 

•  Dives,  in  one  version  of  a  well-known  carol,  has  "  a  place 
prepared  in  h^l,  to  sit  upon  a  serpent's  knee."  The  pious 
chanson  in  question  is  a  very  difierent  thing  from  an  old 


mere  cavil  to  raise  a  difficulty  about  combing  a 
laily  worm's  head.  The  fiery  beast  in  '  Kemp 
Owyne,'  A,  has  long  hair,  and  the  laily  worm 
may  have  had  enough  to  be  better  for  comb- 

ing-t 

It  is  only  natural  that  the  transformed  maid 
should  not  wish  to  trust  herself  again  in  the 
hands  of  the  stepmother,  but  it  is  not  accord- 
ing to  poetical  justice  that  she  should  remain 
a  machrel  of  the  sea,  and  here  again  we  may 
suppose  something  to  have  dropped  out. 

We  have  had  a  double  transformation,  of 
sister  and  brother,  in  the  '  Marriage  of  Ga- 
wain '  and  in  the  '  Wedding  of  Gawen  and 
Dame  Ragnell,'  and  again,  with  a  second  sis- 
ter added,  in  the  story  of  Als61.     Brother  and 

ballad,  which,  it  is  hoped,  no  one  will  tliink  capable  of  fa- 
tuity. 

t  As,  for  example,  a  dragon  has  in  Hahn's  Griechische 
Marchen,  No  26, 1,  187,  and  elsewhere. 


316 


36.    THE  LAILY  WORM  AND  THE  MACHREL   OF  THE   SEA 


sister  are  transformed  in  the  Danish  '  Natter- 
galen,'  Grundtvig,  No  67.  It  is  an  aggrava- 
tion of  stepmother  malice  that  the  victim  of 
enchantment,  however  amiable  and  inoffen- 
sive before,  should  become  truculent  and  de- 


structive ;  so  with  the  brother  of  Gawain's 
bride,  and  with  the  Carl  of  Carlile.  The  step- 
mother is  satisfactorily  disposed  of,  as  she  is 
in  '  Kemp  Owyne,'  B,  and  the  '  Laidly  Worm 
of  Spindleston  Heughs.' 


1  '  I  WAS  but  seven  year  auld 

When  my  mither  she  did  die  ; 
My  father  married  the  ae  warst  woman 
The  warld  did  ever  see. 

2  '  For  she  has  made  me  the  laily  worm, 

That  lies  at  the  fit  o  the  tree, 
An  my  sister  Masery  she  's  made 
The  machrel  of  the  sea. 

3  '  An  every  Saturday  at  noon 

The  machrel  comes  to  me, 
An  she  takes  my  laily  head 

An  lays  it  on  her  knee, 
She  kaims  it  wi  a  siUer  kaim. 

An  washes 't  in  the  sea. 

4  '  Seven  knights  hae  I  slain, 

Sin  I  lay  at  the  fit  of  the  tree, 
An  ye  war  na  my  aui  father, 
The  eight  ane  ye  should  be.' 

5  '  Sing  on  your  song,  ye  laily  worm, 

That  ye  did  sing  to  me  : ' 
'  I  never  sung  that  song  but  what 
I  would  it  sing  to  thee. 

6  '  I  was  but  seven  year  auld, 

When  my  mither  she  did  die ; 
My  father  married  the  ae  warst  woman 
The  warld  did  ever  see. 

7  '  For  she  changed  me  to  the  laily  worm. 

That  lies  at  the  fit  o  the  tree. 
And  my  sister  "Masery 

To  the  machrel  of  the  sea. 

8  '  And  every  Saturday  at  noon 

The  machrel  comes  to  me. 
An  she  takes  my  laily  head 
An  lays  it  on  her  knee, 


An  kames  it  wi  a  siller  kamej 
An  washes  it  i  the  sea. 

9  '  Seven  knights  hae  I  slain, 

Sin  I  lay  at  the  fit  o  the  tree, 
An  ye  war  na  my  ain  father, 
The  eighth  ane  ye  shoud  be.' 

10  He  sent  for  his  lady, 

As  fast  as  send  could  he  : 
'  Whar  is  my  son  that  ye  sent  frae  me. 
And  my  daughter,  Lady  Masery  ? ' 

11  '  Your  son  is  at  our  king's  court, 

Serving  for  meat  an  fee, 
An  your  daughter 's  at  our  queen's  court, 


12  '  Ye  lie,  ye  ill  woman, 

Sae  loud  as  I  hear  ye  lie  ; 
My  son  's  the  laily  worm. 

That  lies  at  the  fit  o  the  tree. 
And  my  daughter.  Lady  Masery, 

Is  the  machrel  of  the  sea  ! ' 

13  She  has  tane  a  siUer  wan, 

An  gien  him  strokes  three. 
And  he  has  started  up  the  bravest  knight 
That  ever  your  eyes  did  see. 

14  She  has  taen  a  small  horn, 

An  loud  an  shrill  blew  she, 
An  a'  the  fish  came  her  untUl 

But  the  proud  machrel  of  the  sea : 
'  Ye  shapeit  me  ance  an  unseemly  shape. 

An  ye's  never  mare  shape  me.' 

15  He  has  sent  to  the  wood 

For  whins  and  for  hawthorn. 
An  he  has  taen  that  gay  lady. 
An  there  he  did  her  burn. 


2\  V.  lays :  but  lies,  12*. 


3'.  ducks,  hut  compare  8' 


37.    THOMAS  RYMEB 


317 


37 

THOMAS   RYMER 


A.  '  Thomas  Rymer  and  Queen  of  Elfland,'  Alexander 
Fraser  Ty tier's  Brown  MS.,  No  1. 

B.  '  Thomas  the  Rhymer,'  Campbell  MSS,  11,  83. 


C.  '  Thomas  the  Rhymer,'  Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish 
Border,  II,  251,  1802,  "  from  a  copy  obtained  from  a 
lady  residing  not  far  from  Erceldoune,  corrected  and 
enlarged  by  one  in  Mrs  Brown's  MS." 


A  IS  one  of  the  nine  ballads  transmitted  to 
Alexander  Fraser  Tytler  by  Mrs  Brown  in 
April,  1800,  as  written  down  from  her  recol- 
lection.* This  copy  was  printed  by  Jamie- 
son,  II,  7,  in  his  preface  to  '  True  Thomas  and 
the  Queen  of  Elfland.'  B,  never  published  as 
yet,  has  been  corrupted  here  and  there,  but 
only  by  tradition.  C  being  compounded  of 
A  and  another  version,  that  portion  which  is 
found  in  A  is  put  in  smaller  type. 

Thomas  of  Erceldoune,  otherwise  Thomas 
the  Rhymer,  and  in  the  popular  style  True 
Thomas,  has  had  a  fame  as  a  seer,  which, 
though  progressively  narrowed,  is,  after  the 
lapse  of  nearly  or  quite  six  centuries,  far  from 
being  extinguished.  The  common  people 
throughout  the  whole  of  Scotland,  according 
to  Mr  Robert  Chambers  (1870),  continue  to 
regard  him  with  veneration,  and  to  preserve 
a  great  number  of  his  prophetic  sayings,  which 
they  habitually  seek  to  connect  with  "  dear 
years  "  and  other  notable  public  events.f  A 
prediction  of  Thomas  of  Erceldoune's  is  re- 
corded in  a  manuscript  which  is  put  at  a  date 
before  1320,  and  he  is  referred  to  with  other 
soothsayers  in  the  Scalacronica,  a  French 
chronicle  of  English  history  begun  in  1355. 
Erceldoune  is  spoken  of  as  a  poet  in  Robert 
Mannyng's  translation  of  Langtoft's  chronicle, 
finished  in  1338  ;  and  in  the  Auchinleck  copy 
of  '  Sir  Tristrem,'  said  to  have  been  made 
about  1350,  a  Thomas  is  said  to  have  been 
consulted  at  Erfeldoun  touching  the  history 

*  See  the  letter  of  Dr  Anderson  to  Bishop  Percy,  Decem- 
ber 29,  1800,  in  Nichols's  DInstrations  of  the  Literary  His- 
tory of  the  Eighteenth  Century,  VII,  178  f. 

t  Chambers'  Popular  Rhymes  of  Scotland,  1870,  pp.  211- 


of  Tristrem.  So  that  we  seem  safe  in  holding 
that  Thomas  of  Erceldoune  had  a  reputation 
both  as  prophet  and  poet  in  the  earlier  part  of 
the  fourteenth  century.  The  vaticinations  of 
Thomas  are  cited  by  various  later  chroniclers, 
and  had  as  much  credit  in  England  as  in  Scot- 
land. "  During  the  fourteenth,  fifteenth,  and 
sixteenth  centuries,"  says  Chambers,  "to  fab- 
ricate a  prophecy  in  the  name  of  Thomas  the 
Rhymer  appears  to  have  been  found  a  good 
stroke  of  policy  on  many  occasions.  Thus 
was  his  authority  employed  to  countenance 
the  views  of  Edward  III  against  Scottish  inde- 
pendence, to  favor  the  ambitious  views  of  the 
Duke  of  Albany  in  the  minority  of  James  V, 
and  to  sustain  the  spirits  of  the  nation  under 
the  harassing  invasions  of  Henry  VIII."  Dur- 
ing the  Jacobite  rising  of  1745  the  accom- 
plishment of  Thomas's  as  then  unfulfilled  pre- 
dictions was  looked  for  by  many.  His  prophe- 
cies, and  those  of  other  Scotch  soothsayers, 
were  consulted,  says  Lord  Hailes,  "with  a 
weak  if  not  criminal  curiosity."  Even  as  late 
as  the  French  revolutionary  war  a  rhyme  of 
Thomas's  caused  much  distress  and  consterna- 
tion in  the  border  counties  of  Scotland,  where 
people  were  fearing  an  invasion.  The  '  Whole 
Prophecie '  of  Merlin,  Thomas  Rymour,  and 
others,  collected  and  issued  as  early  as  1603, 
continued  to  be  printed  as  a  chap-book  down 
to  the  beginning  of  this  century,  when,  says 
Dr  Murray,  few  farm-houses  in  Scotland  were 
without  a  copy  of  it. 


224.  See,  also,  Scott's  Minstrelsy,  IV,  110-116,  129-151, 
ed.  1833.  But,  above  all,  Dr  J.  A.  H.  Murray's  Introduc- 
tion to  The  Romance  and  Prophecies  of  Thomas  of  Ercel- 
doune, 1875. 


318 


37.    THOMAS   RYMER 


All  this  might  have  been  if  Thomas  of  Er- 
celdoune  had  been  not  more  historical  than 
Merlin.  But  the  name  is  known  to  have 
belonged  to  a  real  person.  Thomas  Rymor 
de  Ei-cildune  is  witness  to  a  deed  whereby 
one  Petrus  de  Haga  obliges  himself  to  make 
a  certain  payment  to  the  Abbey  of  Melrose. 
Petrus  de  Haga  is,  in  turn,  witness  to  a  char- 
ter made  by  Richard  de  Moreville.  Unluckily, 
neither  of  these  deeds  is  dated.  But  Moreville 
was  constable  of  Scotland  from  1162  to  1189. 
If  we  suppose  Moreville's  charter  to  have 
been  given  towards  1189,  and  Haga  to  have 
been  then  about  twenty  years  old,  and  so 
bom  about  1170,  and  further  suppose  Haga  to 
have  made  his  grant  to  Melrose  towards  the 
end  of  a  life  of  threescore,  or  three  score  and 
ten,  the  time  of  Thomas  Rymer's  signature 
would  be  about  1230  or  1240.  If  Thomas 
Rymer  was  then  twenty  years  of  age,  his  birth 
would  have  been  at  1210  or  1220.  In  the 
year  1294  Thomas  de  Ercildoun,  son  and  heir 
of  Thomas  Rymour  de  Ei'cildoun,  conveyed  to 
a  I'eligious  house  his  inheritance  of  lands  in 
Ercildoun.  With  Thomas  Rhymer  in  mind, 
one  naturally  interprets  Thomas  Rymour  as 
the  prophet  and  Thomas  de  Ercildoun  as  his 
son.  If  Rymour  was  the  surname  of  this  fam- 
ily,* it  would  have  been  better,  for  us  at 
least,  if  the  surname  had  been  subjoined  to  the 
first  Thomas  also.  As  the  language  stands, 
we  are  left  to  choose  among  several  possibil- 
ities. Thomas  the  Rhymer  may  have  been 
dead  in  1294  ;  Thomas  Rymour,  meaning  the 
same  person,  may  have  made  this  cession  of 
lands  in  1294,  and  have  survived  still  some 
years.  Thomas,  the  father,  may,  as  Dr  Mur- 
ray suggests,  have  retired  from  the  world,  but 
still  be  living,  and  it  may  be  his  son  who  re- 
signs the  lands.  Blind  Harry's  Life  of  Wal- 
lace makes  Thomas  Rimour  to  be  alive  down 
to  1296  or  1297.  A  story  reported  by  Bower 
in  his  continuation  of  Fordun,  c.  1430,  makes 
Thomas  to  have  predicted  the  death  of  Alex- 
ander HI  in  1286,  when,  according  to  the  pre- 


vious (necessarily  very  loose)  calculation,  the 
seer  would  have  been  between  sixty-six  and 
seventy-six.  Neither  of  these  last  dates  is  es- 
tablished by  the  strongest  evidence,  but  there 
is  no  reason  for  refusing  to  admit,  at  least,  that 
Thomas  of  Erceldoune  may  have  been  alive  at 
the  latter  epoch. 

Thomas  of  Erceldoune's  prophetic  power 
was  a  gift  of  the  queen  of  the  elves  ;  the  mod- 
ern elves,  equally  those  of  northern  Europe 
and  of  Greece,  resembling  in  respect  to  this 
attribute  the  nymphs  of  the  ancient  Hellenic 
mythology.  How  Thomas  attained  this  grace 
is  set  forth  in  the  first  of  three  fits  of  a  poem 
which  bears  his  name.  This  poem  has  come 
down  in  four  somewhat  defective  copies :  the 
earliest  written  a  little  before  the  middle  of 
the  fifteenth  centurj%  two  others  about  1450, 
the  fourth  later.  There  is  a  still  later  manu- 
script copy  of  the  second  and  third  fits.f  All 
the  manuscripts  are  English,  but  it  is  manifest 
from  the  nature  of  the  topics  that  the  original 
poem  was  the  work  of  a  Scotsman.  All  four  of 
the  complete  versions  speak  of  an  older  story : 
"  gyff  it  be  als  the  storye  sayes,  v.  83,  '  als  the 
storye  tellis  full  ryghte,'  v.  123.  The  older 
story,  if  any,  must  be  the  work  of  Thomas. 
The  circumstance  that  the  poem,  as  we  have 
it,  begins  in  the  first  person,  and  after  a  long 
passage  returns  for  a  moment  to  the  first  per- 
son, though  most  of  the  tale  is  told  in  the 
third,  is  of  no  importance ;  nor  would  it  have 
been  important  if  the  whole  narrative  had 
been  put  into  Thomas's  mouth,  since  that  is 
the  simplest  of  literary  artifices. 

Thomas,  having  found  favor  with  the  queen 
of  Elfland,  was  taken  with  her  to  that  country, 
and  there  he  remained  more  than  three  [seven] 
years.  Then  the  time  came  round  when  a  trib- 
ute had  to  be  paid  to  hell,  and  as  Thomas  was 
too  likely  to  be  chosen  by  the  fiend,  the  elf 
queen  conducted  him  back  to  the  world  of 
men.  At  the  moment  of  parting  Thomas  de- 
sires some  token  which  may  authenticate  his 
having  spoken  with  her.     She  gives  him  the 


•  Hector  Boece  (1527)  says  the  surname  was  Leirmont, 
but  there  is  no  evidence  for  this  that  is  of  value.  See  Mur- 
ray, p.  xiii. 

t  The  five  copies  have  been  edited  by  Dr  J.  A.  H.  Mur- 


ray, and  printed  by  the  Early  English  Text  Society.  A  re- 
constructed text  by  Dr  Alois  Brandl  makes  the  second  vol- 
ume of  a  Sammlung  englischer  Denkmaler  in  kritischen 
Ausgaben,  Berlin,  1880. 


37.    THOMAS   RYMEB 


31 


gift  of  soothsaying.  He  presses  her  to  stay 
and  tell  him  some  ferly.  Upon  this  she  be- 
gins a  train  of  predictions,  wliich  Thomas 
more  than  once  importunes  her  to  continue. 
The  first  two  of  these,  the  failure  of  Baliol's 
party  and  the  battle  of  Halidon  Hill,  1333, 
stand  by  themselves,  but  they  are  followed 
by  a  series  in  chronological  order,  extending 
from  the  battle  of  Falkirk  to  the  battle  of 
Otterboum,  1298-1388.  The  third  fit,  ex- 
cepting, perhaps,  a  reference  to  Henry  IV's 
invasion  of  Scotland  in  1401,  seems  to  consist, 
not  of  predictions  made  after  the  event,  but  of 
"  adaptations  of  legendary  propliecies,  tradi- 
tionally preserved  from  far  earlier  times,  and 
furbished  up  anew  at  each  period  of  national 
trouble  and  disti"ess,  in  expectation  of  their 
fulfilment  being  at  length  at  hand."  * 

The  older  "  story,"  which  is  twice  referred 
to  in  the  prologue  to  the  prophecies  of  Thomas 
of  Erceldoune,  was  undoubtedly  a  romance 
which  narrated  the  adventure  of  Thomas  with 
the  elf  queen  gimply,  without  specification  of 
his  prophecies.  In  all  probability  it  concluded, 
in  accordance  with  the  ordinary  popular  tradi- 
tion, with  Thomas's  return  to  fairy-land  after 
a  certain  time  passed  in  this  world.f  For  the 
story  of  Thomas  and  the  Elf-queen  is  but  an- 
other version  of  what  is  related  of  Ogier  le 
Danois  and  Morgan  the  Fay.  Six  fairies  made 
gifts  to  Ogier  at  his  birth.  By  the  favor  of 
five  he  was  to  be  the  strongest,  the  bravest, 
the  most  successful,  the  handsomest,  the  most 
susceptible,  of  knights :  Morgan's  gift  was 
that,  after  a  long  and  fatiguing  career  of  glory, 
he  should  live  with  her  at  her  castle  of  Avalon, 


in  the  enjoyment  of  a  still  longer  youth  and 
never  wearying  pleasures.  When  Ogier  had 
passed  his  hundredth  year,  Morgan  took  meas- 
ures to  carry  out  her  promise.  She  had  him 
wrecked,  while  he  was  on  a  voyage  to  France, 
on  a  loadstone  rock  conveniently  near  to  Ava- 
lon, which  Avalon  is  a  little  way  this  side  of  the 
terrestrial  paradise.  In  due  course  he  comes 
to  an  orchard,  and  there  he  eats  an  apple,  which 
affects  him  so  peculiarly  that  he  looks  for  noth- 
ing but  death.  He  turns  to  the  east,  and  sees 
a  beautiful  lady,  magnificently  attired.  He 
takes  her  for  the  Virgin  ;  she  corrects  his  error, 
and  announces  herself  as  Morgan  the  Fay. 
She  puts  a  ring  on  his  finger  which  restores 
his  youth,  and  then  places  a  crown  on  his 
head  which  makes  him  forget  all  the  past. 
For  two  hundred  years  Ogier  lived  in  such  de- 
lights as  no  worldly  being  can  imagine,  and  the 
two  hundred  years  seemed  to  him  but  twenty. 
Christendom  was  then  in  danger,  and  even 
Morgan  thought  his  presence  was  required  in 
the  world.  The  crown  being  taken  from  his 
head,  the  memory  of  the  past  revived,  and 
with  it  the  desire  to  return  to  France.  He 
was  sent  back  by  the  fairy,  properly  provided, 
vanquished  the  foes  of  Christianity  in  a  short 
space,  and  after  a  time  was  brought  back  by 
Morgan  the  Fay  to  Avalon. J 

The  fairy  adventures  of  Thomas  and  of  Ogier 
have  the  essential  points  in  common,  and  even 
the  particular  trait  that  the  fairy  is  taken  to 
be  the  Virgin.  The  occurrence  of  this  trait 
again  in  the  ballad,  viewed  in  connection  with 
the  general  similarity,  of  the  two,  will  leave 
no  doubt  that  the  ballad  had  its  source  in  the 


*  Murray,  pp  xxiv-xxvii.  As  might  be  expected,  the 
Latin  texts  corrupt  the  natnea  of  persons  and  of  places,  and 
alter  the  results  of  battles.  Dr  Murray  remarks  :  "  The  old- 
est text  makes  the  Scots  win  Halidon  Hill,  with  the  slaughter 
of  six  thousand  Englishmen,  while  the  other  texts,  wise  after 
the  fact,  makes  the  Scots  lose,  as  they  actually  did."  This, 
and  the  consideration  that  a  question  about  the  conflict  be- 
tween the  families  of  Bruce  and  Baliol  would  not  be  put 
after  1400,  when  the  Baliol  line  was  extinct,  disposes  Dr 
Murray  to  think  that  verses  326-56  of  the  second  fit,  with 
perhaps  the  first  fit,  the  conclusion  of  the  poem,  and  an 
indefinite  portion  of  fit  third,  may  have  been  written  on  the 
eve  of  Halidon  Hill,  with  a  view  to  encourage  the  Scots. 

t  The  poem,  vv  675-80,  says  only  that  Thomas  and  the 


lady  did  not  part  for  ever  and  aye,  bnt  that  she  was  to  visit 
him  at  Huntley  banks. 

X  The  relations  of  Thomas  Khymer  and  Ogier  might,  per- 
haps, be  cleared  up  by  the  poem  of  The  Visions  of  Ogier 
in  Fairy  Land.  The  book  is  thus  described  by  Brunet,  cd. 
1863,  IV,  173:  Le  premier  (second  et  troisicme)  livre  des 
visions  d'Oger  le  Dannoys  au  royaulme  de  Fairie,  Paris, 
1542,  pet.  in-8,  de  48 if.  Brunet  adds:  A  la  suite  de  ce 
poome,  dans  I'exemplaire  de  la  Bildioth&que  imp<?riale,  se 
trouve,  Le  liure  des  visions  fantastiques,  Paris,  1542,  pet.  in-8, 
de  24  fl^  The  National  Library  is  not  now  in  possession  of 
the  volume;  nor  have  all  the  in(|uiries  I  have  been  able  to 
make,  though  most  courteously  aided  in  France,  resulted,  as 
I  hoped,  in  the  finding  of  a  copy. 


320 


37.    THOMAS   BYMER 


romance.  Yefc  it  is  an  entirely  popular  ballad 
as  to  style,*  and  must  be  of  considerable  age, 
though  the  earliest  version  (A)  can  be  traced 
at  furthest  only  into  the  first  half  of  the  last 
century. 

The  scene  of  the  meeting  of  Thomas  with 
the  elf  queen  is  Huntly  Banks  and  the  Eildon 
Tree  in  versions  B,  C  of  the  ballad,  as  in  the 
romance.!  Neither  of  these  is  mentioned  in 
A,  the  reciter  of  which  was  an  Aberdeen 
woman.  The  elf-lady's  costume  and  equip- 
ment, minutely  given  in  the  romance  (hence- 
forth referred  to  as  R),  are  reduced  in  the 
ballad  to  a  skirt  of  grass-green  silk  and  a  vel- 
vet mantle.  A,  and  a  dapple-gray  horse,  B  2 
(R  5),  with  nine  and  fifty  bells  on  each  tett  of 
its  mane,  A  2  (three  bells  on  either  side  of  the 
bridle,  R  9). J  Thomas  salutes  the  fairy  as 
queen  of  heaven,  A  3,  R  11.  B  3  has  suffered 
a  Protestant  alteration  which  makes  nonsense 
of  the  following  stanza.  She  corrects  his  mis- 
take in  all,  and  in  B  4  tells  him  she  is  out 
hunting,  as  in  R  16.  As  C  5  stands,  she  chal- 
lenges Thomas  to  kiss  her,  warning  him  at  the 


same  time,  unnaturally,  and  of  course  in  con- 
sequence of  a  corrupt  reading,  of  the  danger ; 
which  Thomas  defies,  C  6.  These  two  stanzas 
in  C  represent  the  passage  in  the  romance, 
17-21,  in  which  Thomas  embraces  the  fairy 
queen,  and  are  wanting  in  A,  B,  though  not  to 
be  spared.  It  is  contact  with  the  fairy  that 
gives  her  the  power  to  carry  her  paramour  off ; 
for  carry  him  off  she  does,  and  he  is  in  great 
fright  at  having  to  go.  The  ballad  is  no  worse, 
and  the  romance  would  have  been  much  better, 
for  the  omission  of  another  passage,  impressive 
in  itself,  but  incompatible  with  the  proper 
and  original  story.  The  elf-queen  had  told 
Thomas  that  he  would  ruin  her  beauty,  if  he 
had  his  will,  and  so  it  came  to  pass  :  her  eyes 
seemed  out,  her  rich  clothing  was  away,  her 
body  was  like  the  lead  ;  and  it  is  while  thus 
disfigured  that  she  bids  Thomas  take  leave  of 
sun  and  moon,  so  that  his  alarm  is  not  without 
reason. §  He  must  go  with  her  for  seven 
years.  A,  B  ;  only  for  a  twelvemonth,  R.  She 
takes  him  up  behind  her,  A ;  she  rides  and  he 
runs,  B ;  she  leads  him  in  at  Eldon  hill,  R ; 


•  Excepting  the  two  satirical  stanzas  with  which  Scott's 
version  (C)  concludes.  "  The  repugnance  of  Thomas  to  be 
debarred  the  use  of  falsehood  when  he  should  find  it  conve- 
nient," may  have,  as  Scott  says,  "  a  comic  effect,"  but  is, 
for  a  ballad,  a  miserable  conceit.  Both  ballad  and  romance 
are  serious. 

t  Eildon  Tree,  the  site  of  which  is  supposed  now  to  be 
marked  by  the  Eildon  Tree  Stone,  stood,  or  should  have 
stood,  on  the  slope  of  the  eastern  of  the  three  Eildon  Hills. 
Huntly  Banks  are  about  half  a  mile  to  the  west  of  the  Eil- 
don Stone,  on  the  same  hill-slope.  Erceldoun,  a  village  on 
the  Leader,  two  miles  above  its  junction  with  the  Tweed,  is 
all  but  visible  from  the  Eildon  Stone.     Murray,  pp  l-]ii. 

t  In  B  2,  absurdly,  the  lady  holds  nine  bells  in  her  hand. 
Ringing  or  jingling  bridles  are  ascribed  to  fairies,  Tam  Lin, 
A  37,  Cromek's  Remains  of  Nithsdale  and  Galloway  Song, 
p.  298  ("  manes  hung  wi  whustles  that  the  win  played  on," 
p.  299).  The  fairy's  saddle  has  a  bordure  of  bells  in  the  Eng- 
lish Launfal,  Ilalliwell's  Illustrations  of  Fairy  Mythology, 
p.  31,  but  not  in  Marie's  lai.  The  dwarf-king  An tiloie,  in 
Ulrich  Von  Eschenbach's  Alexander,  has  bells  on  his  bridle  : 
Grimm,  Deutsche  Mythologie,  I,  385.  These  bells,  how- 
ever, are  not  at  all  distinctive  of  fairies,  but  are  the  ordinary 
decoration  of  elegant  "  outriders "  in  the  Middle  Ages,  es- 
pecially of  women.  In  the  romance  of  Richard  Coeur  de 
Lion,  a  messenger's  trappings  ring  with  five  hundred  bells. 
Besides  the  bridle,  bells  were  sometimes  attached  to  the 
horse's  breastplate,  to  the  saddle-bow,  crupper,  and  stir- 
rups. Conde  Claros's  steed  has  three  hundred  around  his 
breastplate.  See  Weber's  Metrical  Romances,  R.  C.  de 
Lion,  vv  1514-17,  5712-14,  cited   by  T.  Wright,  History  of 


Domestic  Manners  in  England,  214  f;  Liebrecht,  Gervasius, 
p.  122;  Kolbing,  Englische  Studien,  III,  105;  Zupitza  and 
Varnhagcn,  Anglia,  III,  371,  IV,  417  ;  and  particularly  A. 
Schultz,  Das  hufische  Leben  zur  Zeit  der  Minnesinger,  I, 
235,  388-91. 

§  The  original  I  suppose  to  be  the  very  cheerful  tale  of 
Ogier,  with  which  the  author  of  Thomas  of  Erceldoune  has 
blended  a  very  serious  one,  without  any  regard  to  the  irrec- 
oncilableness  of  the  two.  He  is  presently  forced  to  undo 
this  melancholy  transformation  of  the  fairy,  as  we  shall  see. 
Brandl,  'Thomas  of  Erceldoune,'  p.  20,  cites  from  Giraldus 
Cambrensis,  Itinerarium  Cambria;,  I,  5,  a  story  about  one 
Meilyr,  a  Welshman,  the  like  of  which  our  poet  had  in 
mind.  This  Meilyr  was  a  great  soothsayer,  and  "  owed  his 
skill  to  the  following  adventure  : "  Being  in  company  one 
evening  with  a  girl  for  whom  he  had  long  had  a  passion, 
desiduratis  amplexibus  atque  deliciis  cum  indulsisset,  statim 
loco  puelliB  formosse  formam  quamdam  villosam,  hispidara 
et  hirsutam,  adeoqne  enormiter  deformem  invenit,  quod  in 
ipso  ejusdem  aspectu  dementire  coepit  et  insanire.  Meilyr 
recovered  his  reason  after  several  years,  through  the  merits 
of  the  saints,  but  always  kept  up  an  intimacy  with  unclean 
spirits,  and  by  their  help  foretold  the  future.  It  is  not  said 
that  they  gave  him  the  tongue  that  never  could  lie,  but  no 
other  tongue  could  lie  successfully  in  his  presence :  he  al- 
ways saw  a  little  devil  capering  on  it.  He  was  able,  by  sim- 
ilar indications,  to  point  out  the  lies  and  errors  of  books. 
The  experiment  being  once  tried  of  laying  the  Gospel  of 
John  in  his  lap,  every  devil  instantly  decamped.  Geoffrey 
of  Monmouth's  history  was  substituted,  and  imps  swarmed 
all  over  the  book  and  him,  too. 


3T.    THOMAS   RYMER 


321 


they  cross  a  water,  he  wading  up  to  the  knee, 
B,  R.  The  water  is  subterranean  in  R,  and 
for  three  days  naught  is  heard  but  the  sough- 
ing of  the  flood.  Then  they  come  to  an  or- 
chard, A,  B,  R,  and  Thomas,  like  to  tyne  for 
lack  of  food,  is  about  to  pull  fruit,  but  is  told 
that  the  fruit  is  cursed,  A  9,  B  8  ;  *  if  he 
plucks  it,  his  soul  goes  to  the  fire  of  hell,  R  35. 
The  fairy  has  made  a  provision  of  safe  bread 
and  wine  for  him  in  the  ballad,  A  10,  B  9, 
but  he  has  still  to  fast  a  while  in  the  ro- 
mance. C,  which  lacks  this  passage,  makes 
them  ride  till  they  reach  a  wide  desert,  and 
leave  living  land  behind,  9 ;  and  here  (but 
in  A,  B,  and  R  in  the  vicinity  of  the  orchard) 
the  fairy  bids  Thomas  lay  his  head  on  her 
knee,  and  she  will  show  him  rare  sights.  These 
are  the  way  to  heaven,  A  12,  B  11,  R  38  ;  the 
way  to  hell,  A  13,  B  10,  R  41  ;  the  road  to 
Elfland,  whither  they  are  going,  A  14.  R  does 
not  point  out  the  road  to  Elfland,  but  the  elf- 
queen's  castle  on  a  high  hill ;  and  there  are 
two  additional  ferlies,  the  way  to  paradise  and 
the  way  to  purgatory,f  39,  40.  Thomas,  in 
A  15,  is  now  admonished  that  he  must  hold 
his  tongue,  for  if  he  speaks  a  word  he  will 
never  get  back  to  his  own  country  ;  in  R  44 
he  is  told  to  answer  none  but  the  elf-queen, 
whatever  may  be  said  to  him,  and  this  course 
he  takes  in  B  12.  But  before  they  proceed  to 
the  castle  the  lady  resumes  all  the  beautj'  and 
splendor  which  she  had  lost,  and  no  explana- 
tion is  offered  save  the  naive  one  in  the  Lans- 
downe  copy,  that  if  she  had  not,  the  king,  her 
consort,  would  have  known  that  she  had  been 
in  fault.  Now  follows  in  A  15  (as  recited, 
here  7),  C  16,  16,  the  passage  through  the 
subterranean  water,  which  should  come  before 
they  reach  the  orchard,  as  in  B  6,  R  30,  31. 
There  is  much  exaggeration   in   the  ballad : 


they  wade  through  rivers  in  darkness  and  hear 
the  sea  roaring,  O  15,  A  7,  as  in  R,  but  they 
also  wade  through  red  blood  to  the  knee,  A  7, 
C  16,  and  the  crossing  occupies  not  three  days, 
as  in  R  31,  but  forty  days,  A  7.  In  C  they 
now  come  to  the  garden.  Stanzas  15,  16  are 
out  of  place  in  C,  as  just  remarked,  and  17  is 
entirely  perverted.  The  cursed  fruit  which 
Thomas  is  not  to  touch  in  A  9,  B  8,  R  35,  is 
offered  him  by  the  elf-queen  as  his  wages,  and 
will  give  him  the  tongue  that  can  never  lie, 
—  a  gift  which  is  made  him  in  the  romance  at 
the  beginning  of  the  second  fit,  when  the  fairy 
is  preparing  to  part  with  him.  Stanzas  18, 19 
of  C  are  certainly  a  modern,  and  .is  certainly 
an  ill-devised,  interpolation.  B  has  lost  the 
conclusion.  In  A,  C,  Tiiomas  gets  a  fairy  cos- 
tume, and  is  not  seen  on  earth  again  for  seven 
years. 

The  romance,  after  some  description  of  the 
life  at  the  elf-castle,  informs  us  that  Thomas 
lived  there  more  than  three  years  [Cambridge 
MS.,  seven],  and  thought  the  time  but  a  space 
of  three  days,  an  almost  moderate  illusion 
compared  with  the  experience  of  other  mor- 
tals under  analogous  circumstances.^  The 
fairy  queen  then  hurried  him  away,  on  the 
eve  of  the  day  when  the  foul  fiend  was  to 
come  to  fetch  his  tribute.  He  was  a  mickle 
man  and  hend,  and  there  was  every  reason  to 
fear  that  he  would  be  chosen.  She  brought 
him  again  to  Eldon  Tree,  and  was  bidding  him 
farewell.  Thomas  begged  of  her  a  token  of 
his  conversation  with  her,  and  she  gave  him 
the  gift  of  true  speaking.  He  urged  her  fur- 
ther to  tell  him  some  ferly,  and  she  made 
him  several  predictions,  but  he  would  not  let 
her  go  without  more  and  more.  Finally,  with 
a  promise  to  meet  him  on  Huntly  Banks  when 
she  might,  she  left  him  under  the  tree. 


»  B  8 '' *-  "It  was  a'  that  cnrsed  fruit  o  thine  beprgared 
man  and  woman  in  your  countrie  : "  the  fruit  of  the  Forbid- 
den Tree. 

t  Pnrgatory  is  omitted  in  the  Cotton  MS.  of  the  romance, 
as  in  the  ballad. 

X  Ogier  le  Danois  hardly  exceeded  the  proportion  of  the 
ordinary  hyperbole  of  lovers :  two  hundred  years  seemed  but 
twenty.  The  British  king  Herla  lived  with  the  king  of  the 
dwarfs  more  than  two  hundred  years,  and  thought  the  time 
but  three  days :  Walter  Mapes,  Nngse  Carialium,  ed.  Wright, 
41 


p.  16f  (Liebrecht).  The  strongest  case,  I  believe,  is  the  ex- 
quisite legend,  versified  by  Trench,  of  the  monk,  with  whom 
three  hundred  years  passed,  while  he  was  listening  to  a  bird's 
song  —  as  he  thought,  less  than  three  hours.  For  some  of 
the  countless  repetitions  of  the  idea,  see  Pauli's  Schimpf  und 
Ernst,  ed.  Ocsterley,  No  562,  and  notes,  p.  537  ;  Liebrecht's 
Gervasius,  p.  89;  W.  Hertz,  Deutsche  Sage  im  Elsass,  pp 
115-18,  263 ;  A.  Graf,  La  Leggenda  del  Paradiso  Terrestre, 
pp  26-29,  31-33,  and  notes  ;  J.  Koch,  Die  Siebenschlaferle- 
gende,  kap.  ii. 


322 


37.    THOMAS  RYMER 


Popular  tradition,  as  Sir  Walter  Scott  rep- 
resents, held  that,  though  Thomas  was  allowed 
to  revisit  the  earth  after  a  seven  years'  so- 
journ in  fairy-land,  he  was  under  an  obliga- 
tion to  go  back  to  the  elf-queen  whenever  she 
should  summon  him.  One  day  while  he  "  was 
making  merry  with  his  friends  in  the  town  of 
Erceldoune,  a  person  came  running  in,  and 
told,  with  marks  of  fear  and  astonishment, 
that  a  hart  and  hind  had  left  the  neighbor- 
ing forest,  and  were  composedly  and  slowly 
parading  the  street  of  the  village.  The  pro- 
phet instantly  arose,  left  his  habitation,  and 
followed  the  wonderful  animals  to  the  forest, 
whence  he  was  never  seen  to  return."  He  is, 
however,  expected  to  come  back  again  at  some 
future  time. 

What  we  learn  from  the  adventures  of 
Thomas  concerning  the  perils  of  dealing  with 
fairies,  and  the  precautions  to  be  observed, 
agrees  with  the  general  teaching  of  ti-adition 
upon  the  subject.  In  this  matter  there  is 
pretty  much  one  rule  for  all  "  unco"  folk,  be 
they  fairies,  dwarfs,  water-sprites,  devils,  or 
departed  spirits,  and,  in  a  limited  way,  for 
witches,  too.  Thomas,  having  kissed  the  elf- 
queen's  lips,  must  go  with  her.  When  the 
dead  Willy  comes  to  ask  back  his  faith  and 
troth  of  Margaret,  and  she  says  he  must  first 
kiss  her,  cheek  and  chin,  he  replies,  "  If  I 
should  kiss  your  red,  red  lips,  your  days  would 
not  be  long."  *     When  Thomas  is  about  to 


pull  fruit  in  the  subterranean  garden,  or  par- 
adise, the  elf  bids  him  let  be  :  all  the  plagues 
of  hell  light  on  the  fruit  of  this  country ; 
"  if  thou  pluck  it,  thy  soul  goes  to  the  fire  of 
hell."  f  The  queen  had  taken  the  precaution 
of  bringing  some  honest  bread  and  wine  with 
her  for  Thomas's  behoof.  So  when  Burd  El- 
len's brother  sets  out  to  rescue  his  sister,  who 
had  been  carried  off  by  the  king  of  Elfland, 
his  sage  adviser  enjoins  him  to  eat  and  drink 
nothing  in  fairy-land,  whatever  his  hunger 
or  thirst ;  "  for  if  he  tasted  or  touched  in 
Elfland,  he  must  remain  in  the  power  of  the 
elves,  and  never  see  middle-eard  again."  J  Ab- 
stinence from  speech  is  equally  advisable,  ac- 
cording to  our  ballad  and  to  other  authority : 
Gin  ae  word  you  should  chance  to  speak,  you 
will  neer  get  back  to  your  ain  countrie,  A  15. 
They  've  asked  him  questions,  one  and  all,  but 
he  answered  none  but  that  fair  ladie,  B  12. 
What  so  any  man  to  thee  say,  look  thou  an- 
swer none  but  me,  R  44. 

That  eating  and  drinking,  personal  contact, 
exchange  of  speech,  receiving  of  gifts,  in  any 
abode  of  unearthly  beings,  including  the  dead, 
will  reduce  a  man  to  their  fellowship  and  con- 
dition might  be  enforced  by  a  great  number 
of  examples,  and  has  already  been  abundantly 
shown  by  Professor  Wilhelm  Miiller  in  his 
beautiful  essay,  Zur  Symbolik  der  deutschen 
Volkssage.§  The  popular  belief  of  the  north- 
ern nations  in  this  matter  is  more  completely 


*  In  an  exquisite  little  ballad  obtained  by  Toramaseo  from 
a  peasaut-giil  of  Empoli,  I,  26,  a  lover  who  had  visited  hell, 
and  there  met  and  kissed  his  mistress,  is  told  by  her  that  he 
must  not  hope  ever  to  go  thence.  How  the  lover  escaped  in 
this  instance  is  not  explained.  Such  things  happen  sometimes, 
but  not  often  enough  to  encourage  one  to  take  the  risk. 

Sono  state  all'  inferno,  e  son  tomato: 
Misericordia,  la  gente  che  c'eral 
Vera  una  stanza  tutta  illuminata, 
E  dentro  v'era  la  speranza  mia. 
Quando  mi  vedde,  gran  festa  mi  fece, 
E  poi  mi  disse;  Dolce  aninia  mia, 
Non  ti  arricordi  del  tempo  passato, 
Quando  tu  mi  dicevi,  "animamia?" 
Ora,  mio  caro  ben,  baciami  in  bocca, 
liaciami  tanto  cli'io  contenta  sia. 
h  tanto  saporita  la  fua  bocca! 
Di  grazia  saporisci  anco  la  mia. 
Ora,  mio  caro  ben,  che  m'hai  baciato, 
Di  qui  non  isperar  d'andarne  via. 

t  A  8,  9,  R  34,  35.     It  was  not  that  Thomas  was  about 


to  pluck  fruit  from  the  Forbidden  Tree,  though  B  under- 
stands it  so  :  cf.  R  32,  33.  The  curse  of  this  tree  seems, 
however,  to  have  afiected  all  Paradise.  In  modern  Greek 
popular  poetry  Paradise  occurs  sometimes  entirely  in  the 
sense  of  Hades.  See  B.  Schmidt,  Volksleben  der  Neugrie- 
chen,  p.  249. 

X  Jamieson,  in  Illustrations  of  Northern  Antiquities,  p. 
398  :  '  Child  Rowland  and  Burd  Ellen.' 

§  Niedersachsischc  Sagen  und  Marchen,  Scharabach  nnd 
Mullcr,  p.  373.  Shakspere  has  this  :  "  They  are  fairies ;  he 
that  speaks  to  them  shall  die ;  "  Falstaff,  in  Merry  Wives 
of  Windsor,  V,  5.  Ancient  Greek  tradition  is  not  without 
traces  of  the  same  ideas.  It  was  Persephone's  eating  of  the 
pomegranate  kernel  that  consigned  her  to  the  lower  world,  in 
spite  of  Zeus  and  Demeter's  opposition.  The  drinking  of 
Circe's  brewage  and  the  eating  of  lotus  had  an  effect  on  the 
companions  of  Ul3-sses  such  as  is  sometimes  .iscribed  to  the 
food  and  drink  of  fairies,  or  other  demons,  that  of  producing 
forgetfulncss  of  home :  Odyssey,  x,  236,  ix,  97.  But  it  would 
not  be  safe  to  build  much  on  this.  A  Hebrew  tale  makes 
the  human  wife  of  a  demon  charge  a  man  who  has  come  to 


37.    THOMAS  KYMEK 


323 


shown  than  anywhere  else  in  Saxo's  account 
of  King  Gormo's  visit  to  Guthmund,  and  it 
will  be  enough  to  cite  that.  The  Danish  King 
Gormo,  having  heard  extraordinary  things  of 
the  riches  of  Geruth  (the  giant  GeirroSr),  de- 
termines to  verify  the  reports  with  his  own 
eyes,  under  the  guidiince  of  Thorkill,  from 
whom  he  has  received  them.  The  land  of 
Geruth  is  far  to  the  northeast,  beyond  the  sun 
and  stars,  and  within  the  realm  of  Chaos  and 
Old  Night.  It  is,  in  fact,  a  very  dismal  and 
terrific  sort  of  Hades.  The  way  to  it  lies 
through  the  dominion  of  Guthmund,  Geruth's 
brother,  which  is  described  as  a  paradise,  but 
a  paradise  of  the  same  dubious  attractions  as 
that  in  Thomas  of  Erceldoune.  Guthmund, 
himself  a  giant,  receives  the  travellers,  a  band 
of  about  three  hundred,  very  graciously,  and 
conducts  them  to  his  palace.  Thorkill  takes 
his  comrades  apart,  and  puts  them  on  their 
guard :  they  must  eat  and  drink  nothing  that 
is  offered  them,  but  live  on  the  provisions 
which  they  have  brought,  must  keep  off  from 
the  people  of  the  place  and  not  touch  them  ; 
if  they  partake  of  any  of  the  food,  they  will 


forget  everything,  and  have  to  pass  their  lives 
in  this  foul  society.  Guthmund  complains 
that  they  slight  his  hospitality,  but  Thorkill, 
now  and  always,  has  an  excuse  ready.  The 
genial  monarch  offers  Gormo  one  of  his  twelve 
beautiful  daughters  in  marriage,  and  their 
choice  of  wives  to  all  the  rest  of  the  train. 
Most  of  the  Danes  like  the  proposition,  but 
Thorkill  renews  his  warnings.  Four  take  the 
bait,  and  lose  all  recollection  of  the  past. 
Guthmund  now  commends  the  delicious  fruits 
of  his  garden,  and  tries  every  art  to  make  the 
king  taste  them.  But  he  is  again  foiled  by 
Thorkill,  and  clearly  perceiving  that  he  has 
met  his  match,  transports  the  travellers  over 
the  river  which  separates  him  and  his  brother, 
and  allows  them  to  continue  their  journey.* 

C  is  translated  by  Talvj,  Versuch,  etc.,  p, 
552 ;  by  Doenniges,  p.  64  ;  by  Arndt,  Bliiten- 
lese,  p.  246 ;  by  Rosa  Warrens,  Schottische 
Volkslieder,  p.  14  ;  by  Knortz,  Lieder  u.  Ro- 
manzen,  p.  1 ;  by  Edward  Barry,  Cycle  popu- 
laire  de  Robin  Hood,  p.  92 ;  and  by  F.  H. 
Bothe,  Janus,  p.  122,  after  Barry. 


Alexander  Fraser  Tytler's  Brown  MS.,  No  1  : 
Popular  Ballads,  II,  7. 


Jamiesou's 


1  True  Thomas  lay  oer  yond  grassy  bank, 
And  he  beheld  a  ladie  gay, 
A  ladie  that  was  brisk  and  bold, 
Come  riding  oer  the  fernie  brae. 


'  AU  hail,  thou  mighty  Queen  of  Heaven ! 
For  your  peer  on  earth  I  never  did  see.' 

4  '  O  no,  O  no,  True  Thomas,'  she  says, 
'  That  name  does  not  belong  to  me  ; 
I  am  but  the  queen  of  fair  Elfland, 
And  I  'm  come  here  for  to  visit  thee. 


2  Her  skirt  was  of  the  g^ass-green  silk, 
Her  mantel  of  the  velvet  fine, 
At  ilka  tett  of  her  horse's  mane 
Hung  fifty  silver  bells  and  nine. 


5  *  But  ye  maun  go  wi  me  now,  Thomas, 
True  Thomas,  ye  maun  go  wi  me, 
For  ye  maun  serve  me  seven  years, 

Thro  weel  or  wae  as  may  chance  to  be.' 


3  True  Thomas  he  took  off  his  hat. 

And  bowed  him  low  down  tiU  his  knee : 


6  She  turned  about  her  milk-white  steed, 
And  took  True  Thomas  up  behind. 


perform  a  certain  service  for  the  family  not  to  eat  or  drink  in 
the  house,  or  to  take  any  present  of  her  husband,  exactly  re- 
peating the  precautions  obser\-ed  in  Grimm,  Deutsche  Sagen, 
Nos  41,  49:  Tendlau,  Das  Buch  der  Sagen  und  Legenden 
jiidischer  Vorzeit,  p.  141.  The  children  of  Shem  may  prob- 
ably have  derived  thia  trait  in  the  story  from  the  children 


of  Japhet.  Aladdin,  in  the  Arabian  Nights,  is  to  have  a 
care,  above  all  things,  that  he  does  not  touch  the  walls  of 
the  subterranean  chamber  so  much  as  with  his  clothes,  or 
he  will  die  instantly.  This  again,  by  itself,  is  not  very  con- 
clusive. 
•  Historia  Danica,  I.  viii ;  Miiller  et  Velachow,  I,  420-25. 


324 


37.     THOMAS  RYMER 


And  aye  wheneer  her  bridle  rang, 
The  steed  flew  swifter  than  the  wind. 

7  For  forty  days  and  forty  nights 

He  wade  thro  red  blude  to  the  knee, 
And  he  saw  neither  sun  nor  moon. 
But  heard  the  roaring  of  the  sea. 

8  0  they  rade  on,  and  further  on, 

Until  they  came  to  a  garden  green  : 
'  Light  down,  light  down,  ye  ladie  free, 
Some  of  that  fruit  let  me  pull  to  thee.' 

9  '  0  no,  O  no.  True  Thomas,'  she  says, 

'  That  fruit  maun  not  be  touched  by  thee. 
For  a'  the  plagues  that  are  in  heU 
Light  on  the  fruit  of  tliis  countrie. 

10  '  But  I  have  a  loaf  here  in  my  lap. 

Likewise  a  bottle  of  claret  wine. 
And  now  ere  we  go  farther  on, 

"We  '11  rest  a  while,  and  ye  may  dine.' 

11  When  he  had  eaten  and  drunk  his  fiU, 

'  Lay  down  your  head  upon  my  knee,' 
The  lady  sayd,  '  ere  we  climb  yon  hiU, 
And  I  wiU  show  you  fairlies  three. 


12  '  O  see  not  ye  yon  narrow  road. 

So  thick  beset  wi  thorns  and  briers  ? 
That  is  the  path  of  righteousness, 
Tho  after  it  but  few  enquires. 

13  '  And  see  not  ye  that  braid  braid  road, 

That  lies  across  yon  lUlie  leven  ? 
That  is  the  path  of  wickedness, 

Tho  some  call  it  the  road  to  heaven. 

14  '  And  see  not  ye  that  bonny  road, 

Which  winds  about  the  f  ernie  brae  ? 
That  is  the  road  to  fair  Elfland, 

Whe[re]  you  and  I  this  night  maun  gae. 

15  '  But  Thomas,  ye  maun  hold  your  tongue, 

Whatever  you  may  hear  or  see, 
For  gin  ae  word  you  should  chance  to  speak, 
You  win  neer  get  back   to  your  ain  coun- 
trie.' 

16  He  has  gotten  a  coat  of  the  even  cloth. 

And  a  pair  of  shoes  of  velvet  green. 
And  till  seven  years  were  past  and  gone 
True  Thomas  on  earth  was  never  seen. 


B 

Campbell  MSS,  II,  83. 

1  As  Thomas  lay  on  Huntlie  banks  — 

A  wat  a  weel  bred  man  was  he  — 
And  there  he  spied  a  lady  fair. 

Coming  riding  down  by  the  Eildon  tree. 

2  The  horse  she  rode  on  was  dapple  gray, 

And  in  her  hand  she  held  hells  nine ; 
I  thought  I  heard  this  fair  lady  say 

These   fair   siller   bells   they  should   a' 
mine. 

3  It 's  Thomas  even  forward  went. 

And  lootit  low  down  on  his  knee : 
'  Weel  met  thee  save,  my  lady  fair, 

For  thou  'rt  the  flower  o  this  countrie.' 

4  '  O  no,  O  no,  Thomas,'  she  says, 

'  0  no,  O  no,  that  can  never  be. 
For  I  'm  but  a  lady  of  an  unco  land, 
Comd  out  a  hunting,  as  ye  may  see. 


6  '  O  harp  and  carp,  Thomas,'  she  says, 
'  0  harp  and  carp,  and  go  wi  me  ; 
It 's  be  seven  years,  Thomas,  and  a  day. 

Or  you  see  man  or  woman  in  your  ain  coun- 
trie.' 

6  It 's  she  has  rode,  and  Thomas  ran. 
Until  they  cam  to  yon  water  clear  ; 
He  's  coosten  off  his  hose  and  shon. 

And  he  's  wooden  the  water  up  to  the  knee. 

be  7  It 's  she  has  rode,  and  Thomas  ran. 

Until  they  cam  to  yon  garden  green ; 
He  's  put  up  his  hand  for  to  puU  down  ane. 
For  the  lack  o  food  he  was  like  to  tyne. 

8  '  Hold  your  hand,  Thomas,'  she  says, 

'  Hold  your  hand,  that  must  not  be  ; 
It  was  a'  that  cursed  fruit  o  thine 

Beggared  man  and  woman  in  your  countrie. 

9  '  But  I  have  a  loaf  and  a  soup  o  wine, 

And  ye  shall  go  and  dine  wi  me ; 


37.    THOMAS  BYMER 


325 


And  lay  yer  head  down  in  my  lap, 
And  I  will  teU  ye  farlies  three. 

10  '  It 's  dont  ye  see  yon  broad  broad  way, 

That  leadeth  down  by  yon  skerry  fell  ? 
It 's  ill 's  the  man  that  dothe  thereon  gang, 
For  it  leadeth  him  straight  to  the  gates  o 
heU. 

11  '  It 's  dont  ye  see  yon  narrow  way, 

That  leadeth  down  by  yon  lillie  lea  ? 
It 's  weel  's  the  man  that  doth  therein  gang, 
For  it  leads  him  straight  to  the  heaven  hie.' 


12  It 's  when  she  cam  into  the  hall  — 

I  wat  a  weel  bred  man  was  he  — 
They  Ve  asked  him  f[uestion[s],  one  and  all. 
But  he  answered  none  but  that  fair  ladie. 

13  O  they  speerd  at  her  where  she  did  him  get. 

And  she  told  them  at  the  Eildon  tree ; 


o 


Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish  Border,  II,  251,  ed.  1802. 

1  True  Thomas  lay  on  Huntlie  bank, 

A  ferUe  he  spied  wi'  his  ee, 
And  there  be  saw  a  lady  bright. 

Come  riding  down  by  the  Eildon  Tree. 

2  Her  shirt  was  o  the  grass-green  silk, 

Her  mantle  o  the  velvet  fyne, 
At  ilka  tett  of  her  horse's  mane 
Hang  fifty  siller  bells  and  nine. 

3  True  Thomas,  he  pulld  aff  his  cap. 

And  louted  low  down  to  his  knee  : 
'  All  hail,  thou  mighty  Queen  of  Heaven  ! 
For  thy  peer  on  earth  I  never  did  see.' 

4  '  O  no,  O  no,  Thomas,'  she  said, 

'  That  name  does  not  belang  to  me ; 
I  am  but  the  queen  of  fair  Elfland, 
That  am  hither  come  to  visit  thee. 

5  '  Harp  and  carp,  Thomas,'  she  said, 

'  Harp  and  carp  along  wi  me. 
And  if  ye  dare  to  kiss  my  lips, 
Sure  of  your  bodie  I  will  be.' 

6  '  Betide  me  weal,  betide  me  woe. 

That  weird  shaU  never  daunton  me  ; ' 
Syne  he  has  kissed  her  rosy  lips, 
All  underneath  the  Eildon  Tree. 

7  '  Now,  ye  maun  go  wi  me,'  she  said, 

'  True  Thomas,  ye  maun  go  wi  me. 
And  ye  maun  serve  me  seven  years, 

Thro  weal  or  woe,  as  may  chance  to  be.' 


8  She  mounted  on  her  milk-white  steed. 

She  's  taen  True  Thomas  up  behind. 
And  aye  wheneer  her  bridle  rung. 
The  steed  flew  swifter  than  the  wind. 

9  O  they  rade  on,  and  farther  on  — 

The  steed  gaed  smfter  than  the  wind  — 
Untill  they  reached  a  desart  wide. 
And  living  land  was  left  behind. 

10  '  Light  down,  Ught  down,  now,  True  Thomas, 

And  lean  your  head  upon  my  knee; 
Abide  and  rest  a  little  space. 
And  I  will  shew  you  ferlies  three. 

11  '  O  see  ye  not  yon  narrow  road, 

So  thick  beset  with  thorns  and  briers  ? 
That  is  the  path  of  righteousness, 
Tho  after  it  but  few  enquires. 

12  '  And  see  not  ye  that  braid  braid  road. 

That  lies  across  that  lily  leven  ? 
That  is  the  path  of  wickedness, 

Tho  some  call  it  the  road  to  heaven. 

13  '  And  see  not  ye  that  bonny  road, 

That  winds  about  the  fernie  brae? 
That  is  the  road  to  fair  Elfland, 

Where  thou  and  I  this  night  maun  gae. 

14  '  But,  Thomas,  ye  maun  hold  your  tongue, 

Whatever  ye  may  hear  or  see, 
For,  if  you  speak  word  in  Elflyn  land. 
Ye  'U  neer  get  back  to  your  ain  countrie.' 

15  O  they  rade  on,  and  farther  on. 

And  they  waded  thro  rivers  aboon  the  knee. 


326 


37.    THOMAS  RYMER 


And  they  saw  neither  sun  nor  moon, 
But  they  heard  the  roaring  of  the  sea. 

16  It  was  mirk  mirk  night,  and  there  was  nae 

stern  light, 
And  they  waded  thro  red  blude  to  the  knee  ; 
For  a'  the  blude  that 's  shed  on  earth 
Rins  thro  the  springs  o  that  countrie. 

17  Syne  they  came  on  to  a  garden  green, 

And  she  pu'd  an  apple  frae  a  tree  : 
'  Take  this  for  thy  wages,  True  Thomas, 
It  wUl  give  the  tongue  that  can  never  lie.' 


18  '  My  tongue  is  mine  ain,'  True  Thomas  said  ; 

'  A  gudely  gift  ye  wad  gie  to  me  ! 
I  neither  dought  to  buy  nor  sell. 
At  fair  or  tryst  where  I  may  be. 

19  '  I  dought  neither  speak  to  prince  or  peer. 

Nor  ask  of  grace  from  fair  ladye  : ' 
'  Now  hold  thy  peace,'  the  lady  said, 
'  For  as  I  say,  so  must  it  be.' 

20  He  has  gotten  a  coat  of  the  even  cloth, 

And  a  pair  of  shoes  of  velvet  green. 
And  till  seven  years  were  gane  and  past 
True  Thomas  on  earth  was  never  seen. 


7  stands  15  in  the  MS. 
8\  golden  green,  if  my  copy  is  right. 
11^'  *  are  11''  ^  in  the  MS. :  the  order  of  words 
is  still  not  simple  enough  for  a  ballad. 
14*.  goe. 

Jamieson  has  a  few  variations,  which  I 
suppose  to  be  his  own. 
"!}.  oer  yonder  bank.    3*.  your  like.     4''.  And 
I  am  come  here  to.    6*.  Her  steed.    8^. 


121. 
13>' 

20\ 


garden,  rightly.    lO'^.  clarry.   11^ 

your    head.     12^.    see   you   not. 

there  's  few.     13.  see  ye  not  yon. 

see  ye  not.     14'''.  Which  winds, 
her  knee.     3'.  thou  save. 
MS.  perhaps  unto. 
^  foUow  St.  12  without  separation. 
a  cloth. 


Lay 
12*. 
141. 


APPENDIX. 


THOMAS   OFF  ERSSELDOUNE. 

Thornton  MS.,  leaf  149,  back,  as  printed  by  Dr.  J.  A.  H. 
Murray. 

[A  prologue  of  six  stanzas,  found  only  in  the  Thornton 
MS.,  is  omitted,  as  being,  even  if  genuine,  not  to  the  present 
purpose.] 

1  Al8  I  me  wente  J>is  endres  daye, 

Ffull  faste  in  mynd  makand  my  mone, 
In  a  mery  mornynge  of  Maye, 

By  Huntle  bankkes  my  selfe  allone, 

2  I  herde  fe  jaye  and  J>e  throstelle, 

The  mawys  menyde  of  hir  songe, 
J>e  wodewale  beryde  als  a  belle. 

That  alle  fe  wode  a-bowte  me  ronge. 

3  AUonne  in  longynge  thus  als  I  lave, 

Vndyre-ncthe  a  semely  tre, 
[Saw]  I  wbare  a  lady  gaye 
[Came  ridand]  ouer  a  longe  lee. 


4  If  I  solde  sytt  to  doracsdaye, 

'With  my  tonge  to  wrobbe  and  wrye, 
Certanely  fat  lady  gaye 

Neuer  bese  scho  askryede  for  mee. 

5  Hir  palfraye  was  a  dappill  graye, 

Swylke  one  ne  sagbe  I  neuer  none; 
Als  dose  fe  sonne  on  someres  daye, 
]?at  faire  lady  hir  selfe  scho  schone. 

6  Hir  selle  it  was  of  roelle  bone, 

Ffull  semely  was  ]7at  syghte  to  see; 
Stefly  sett  witA  precyous  stones. 
And  compaste  all  with  crapotee ; 

7  Stones  of  oryente,  grete  plente. 

Hir  hare  abowte  hir  hede  it  hange ; 
Scho  rade  ouer  fat  lange  lee  ; 
A  whylle  scho  blewe,  a-nofer  scho  sange. 

8  Hir  garthes  of  nobyll  sylke  pay  were, 

The  bukylls  were  of  berelle  stone, 
Hir  steraps  were  of  crystalle  clere, 
And  all  wit/4  perelle  ouer-by-gone. 

9  Hir  payetrelle  was  of  irale  fyne, 

Hir  cropoure  was  of  orphare, 


37.    THOMAS  RYMER 


327 


And  als  clere  golde  hir  brydill  it  schone; 
One  aythir  syde  hange  bellys  three. 

10  [Scho  led  ihree  grehoundis  in  a  leesshe,] 

And  seuene  raches  by  hir  fay  rone ; 
Scho  bare  an  home  abowte  hir  halse, 
And  vndir  hir  belte  full  many  a  flone. 

11  Thomas  lays  and  sawe  fat  syghte, 

Vndir-nethe  ane  semly  tree ; 
He  sayd,  jone  es  Marye,  moste  of  myghte, 
J>at  bare  fat  childe  fat  dyede  for  mee. 

12  Bot  if  I  speke  with  jone  lady  bryghte, 

I  hope  myne  herte  will  bryste  in  three ; 
Now  sail  I  go  witA  all  ray  myghte, 
Hir  for  to  mete  at  Eldoune  tree. 

13  Thomas  rathely  vpe  he  rase, 

And  he  rane  ouer  fat  mountayne  hye; 
Gyff  it  be  als  the  storye  sayes, 
He  hir  mette  at  Eldone  tree. 


And,  als  the  storye  tellis  full  ryghte, 
Seuene  sythis  by  hir  he  laye. 

22  Scho  sayd,  Mane,  the  lykes  thy  playe: 

Whate  byrde  in  boure  maye  delle  with  the? 
Thou  merry s  me  all  fis  longe  daye; 
I  pray  the,  Thomas,  late  me  bee. 

23  Thomas  stode  vpe  in  fat  stede, 

And  he  by-helde  fat  lady  gaye; 
Hir  hare  it  hange  all  ouer  hir  hede, 

Hir  eghne  semede  owte,  fat  are  were  graye. 

24  And  alle  fe  riche  clothynge  was  a-waye, 

J>at  he  by-fore  sawe  in  fat  stede  ; 
Hir  a  schanke  blake,  hir  ofer  graye. 
And  all  hir  body  lyke  the  lede. 

25  Thomas  laye,  and  sawe  fat  sj'ghte, 

Vndir-nethe  fat  grenewod  tree. 


14  He  knelyde  downe  appone  his  knee, 

Vndir-nethe  fat  grenwode  spraye. 
And  sayd,  Lufly  ladye,  rewe  one  mee, 
Qwene  of  heuene,  als  fou  wele  maye  ! 

15  Then  spake  fat  lady  milde  of  thoghte: 

Thomas,  late  swylke  wordes  bee; 
Qwene  of  heuene  ne  am  I  noghte, 
Ffor  I  tuke  neuer  so  heghe  degre. 

16  Bote  I  ame  of  ane  ofe;"  countree, 

If  I  be  payrelde  moste  of  pryse; 
I  ryde  aftyre  this  wylde  fee; 

My  raches  rynnys  at  my  devyse.' 

1 7  '  If  fou  be  parelde  moste  of  pryse. 

And  here  rydis  thus  in  thy  folye, 
Of  lufe,  lady,  als  fou  erte  wyse, 
JJou  gyffe  me  leue  to  lye  the  bye.' 

18  Scho  sayde,  pou  mane,  fat  ware  folye ; 

I  praye  fe,  Thomas,  fou  late  me  bee; 
Ffor  I  saye  fe  full  sekirlye, 

Jjat  synne  will  for-doo  all  my  beaute. 

19  'Now,  lufly  ladye,  rewe  one  mee, 

And  I  will  euer  more  witA  the  duelle ; 
Here  my  trouthe  I  will  the  plyghte, 
Whethir  fou  will  in  heuene  or  helle.' 

20  '  Mane  of  molde,  fou  will  me  marre. 

But  jitt  fou  sail  hafe  all  thy  will; 
And  trowe  it  wele,  fou  chewys  fe  werre, 
Ffor  alle  my  beaute  will  fou  spylle. ' 

21  Downe  fane  lyghte  fat  lady  bryghte, 

Vndir-nethe  fat  grenewode  spraye  ; 


26  pan  said  Thomas,  Alias !  alias  I 

In  fay  the  fis  es  a  dullfuU  syghte; 
How  arte  fou  fadyde  f us  in  fe  face, 

J>at  schane  by-fore  als  f  e  sonne  so  bryght[e]  I 

27  Scho  sayd,  Thomas,  take  leue  at  sone  and  mon[e]. 

And  als  at  lefe  fat  grewes  on  tree  ; 

This  twelmoneth  sail  fou  viith  me  gone, 

And  medill-erthe  sail  fou  none  see.' 

28  He  knelyd  downe  appone  his  knee, 

Vndir-nethe  f  nt  grenewod  spraye. 
And  sayd,  Lufly  lady,  rewe  on  mee, 

Mylde  qwene  of  heuene,  als  fou  beste  maye  I 

29  '  Alias  I '  he  sayd,  '  and  wa  es  mee  I 

I  trowe  my  dedis  wyll  wirke  me  care; 
My  saulle,  Jhesu,  by-teche  I  the, 

Whedir-some  fat  euer  my  banes  sail  fare.' 

30  Scho  ledde  hym  in  at  Eldone  hill, 

Vndir-nethe  a  derne  lee, 
Whare  it  was  dirke  as  mydnyght  myrke. 
And  euer  f  e  water  till  his  knee. 

81  The  montenans  of  dayes  three, 

He  herd  bot  swoghynge  of  fe  flode  ; 
At  fe  laste  he  sayde,  Full  wa  es  mee  I 
Almaste  I  dye,  for  fawte  of  f[ode.] 

82  Scho  lede  hym  in-till  a  faire  herbere, 

Whare  frwte  was  g[ro]wan[d  gret  plentee]  ; 
Pere  and  appill,  bothe  ryppe  fay  were, 
The  date,  and  als  the  damasee. 

33  J>e  fygge,  and  alsso  fe  wyneberye. 

The  nyghtgales  byggande  on  fair  neste  ; 


328 


37.    THOMAS  RYxMEE 


pe  papeioyes  faste  abowte  gane  flye, 

And  throstylls  sange,  wolde  hafe  no  reste. 

34  He  pressede  to  pulle  frowte  -with  his  hande, 

Als  mane  for  fude  fat  was  nere  faynt; 
Sclio  sayd,  Thomas,  fou  late  fame  stande, 
Or  ells  J)e  fende  the  will  atteynt. 

35  If  Jjou  it  plokk,  sothely  to  saye, 

Thi  saule  gose  to  fe  fyre  of  helle ; 
It  commes  neuer  owte  or  domesdaye, 
Bot  ]>er  in  payne  ay  for  to  duelle. 

36  Thomas,  sothely  I  the  hyghte. 

Come  lygge  thyne  hede  downe  on  my  knee, 
And  [fou]  sail  se  fe  fayreste  syghte 
JJat  euer  sawe  mane  of  thi  contree. 

87  He  did  in  hyo  als  scho  hym  badde; 

Appone  hir  knee  his  liede  he  layde, 
Ffor  hir  to  paye  he  was  full  glade ; 
And  Jiane  J>at  lady  to  hym  sayde  : 

38  Seese  fou  nowe  jone  faire  waye, 

J'at  lygges  ouer  jone  heghe  mountayne  ? 
Jone  es  )'e  waye  to  heuene  for  aye, 
Whene  synfuU  sawles  are  passed  fer  payne. 

39  Seese  ]>nu  nowe  jone  ofer  waye, 

JJat  lygges  lawe  by-nethe  jone  rysse  ? 
^one  es  J'e  waye,  ]>e  sothe  to  saye, 
Vn-to  fe  joye  of  paradyse. 

40  Seese  ]>ou  jitt  jone  tliirde  waye, 

put  ligges  vndir  jone  grene  playne  ? 
jone  es  }>e  waye,  viith  tene  and  traye, 

Whare  synfuU  saulis  sufErris  faire  payne. 

41  Bot  seese  ]>ou  nowe  jone  ferthe  waye, 

J>at  lygges  ouer  jone  depe  delle  ? 
lone  es  fe  waye,  so  waylawaye  I 
Vn-to  fe  birnande  fyre  of  helle. 

42  Seese  you  jitt  jone  faire  castelle, 

[pat  standis  ouer]  jonc  heghe  hill  ? 
Of  towne  and  towre  it  beris  fe  belle; 
In  erthe  es  none  lyke  it  vn-till. 

43  Ffor  sothe,  Thomas,  jone  es  myne  awenne, 

And  ye  kynges  of  this  countree; 
Bot  me  ware  leuer  be  hanged  and  drawene, 
Or  fat  he  wyste  fou  laye  by  me. 

44  When  you  commes  to  jone  castelle  gay, 

I  pray  fe  curtase  mane  to  bee; 
And  whate  so  any  mane  to  fe  saye, 
Luke  fou  answere  none  bott  mee. 

45  My  lorde  es  seruede  at  ylk  a  mese 

With  thritty  knyghttis  faire  and  free; 


I  sail  saye,  syttande  at  the  desse, 
I  tuke  thi  speche  by-3onde  the  see 

46  Thomas  still  als  stane  he  stude. 

And  he  by-helde  fat  lady  gaye  ; 

Scho  come  agayne  als  faire  and  gude. 

And  also  ryche  one  hir  palfraye. 

47  Hir  grewehundis  fillide  ■with  dere  blode, 

Hir  raches  couplede,  by  my  faye; 
Scho  blewe  hir  home  v/ith  mayne  and  mode, 
Vn-to  fe  castelle  scho  tuke  fe  waye. 

48  In-to  fe  haulle  sothely  scho  went, 

Thomas  foloued  at  hir  hande; 
Than  ladyes  come,  bothe  faire  and  gent. 
With  curtassye  to  hir  knelande. 

49  Harpe  and  fethill  bothe  fay  fande, 

Getterne,  and  als  so  f e  sawtrye ; 
Lutte  and  rybyoe  bothe  gangande. 
And  all  manere  of  mynstralsye. 

50  pe  most  mcruelle  fat  Thomas  thoghte, 

Whene  fat  he  stode  appone  the  flore ; 
Ffor  feftty  hertis  in  were  broghte, 
J>at  were  bothe  grete  and  store. 

51  Raches  laye  lapande  in  f  e  blode. 

Cokes  come  with  dryssynge  knyfe; 

Thay  brittcned  fame  als  fay  were  wode  ; 

Reuelle  amanges  fame  was  full  ryfe. 

52  Knyghtis  dawnesede  by  three  and  three. 

There  was  revelle,  gamene  and  playe; 
Lufly  ladyes,  faire  and  free, 

That  satte  and  sange  one  riche  araye. 

63  Thomas  duellide  ire  that  solace 
More  fane  I  jowe  saye,  parde. 
Till  one  a  daye,  so  hafe  I  grace, 
My  lufly  lady  sayde  to  mee  : 

54  Do  buske  the,  Thomas,  f  e  buse  agayne, 

Ffor  f  ou  may  here  no  lengare  be ; 
Hye  the  faste,  vfith  myghte  and  mayne, 
I  sail  the  brynge  till  Eldoue  tree. 

55  Thomas  sayde  fane,  wit/(  heuy  chere, 

Lufly  lady,  nowe  late  me  bee  ; 
Ffor  certis,  lady,  I  hafe  bene  here 
Noghte  bot  f  e  space  of  dayes  three. 

56  '  Ffor  sothe,  Thomas,  als  I  fe  telle, 

]5ou  base  bene  here  thre  jere  and  more; 
Bot  langere  here  fou  may  noghte  duelle; 
The  skylle  I  sail  fe  telle  whare-fore. 

57  '  To  morne  of  helle  fe  foulle  fende 

Amange  this  folke  will  feche  his  fee; 


38.    THE  WEE  WEE  MAN 


329 


And  \>oa  arte  mekill  mane  and  hende; 
I  trowe  full  wele  he  wolde  chese  the. 

58  '  Ffor  alle  Jje  gold  J»ot  euer  may  bee, 

Ffro  hethyne  vn-to  fe  worldis  ende, 
Jjou  bese  neuer  be-trayede  for  mee  ; 
J>erefore  with  rae  I  rede  thou  wende. ' 

59  Scho  broghte  hym  agayne  to  Eldone  tree, 

Vndir-nethe  ]>at  grenewode  spraye; 
In  Huntlee  bannkes  es  mery  to  bee, 

Whare  fowles  synges  bothe  nyght  and  daye. 

60  '  Fferre  owtt  in  jone  mountane  graye, 

Thomas,  my  fawkone  bygges  a  neste; 
A  fawconne  es  an  erlis  praye  ; 
Ffor-thi  in  na  place  may  he  reste. 

61  '  Ffare  well,  Thomas,  I  wend  my  wave, 

Ffor  me  by-houys  ouer  thir  benttis  browne ;  ' 
Loo  here  a  fytt:  more  es  to  saye, 
All  of  Thomas  of  Erselldowne. 


FYTT  ir. 

1  '  Fare  wele,  Thomas,  I  wend  my  waye, 

I  may  no  lengare  stande  with  the: ' 
'  Gyff  me  a  tokynynge,  lady  gaye, 
That  I  may  saye  I  spake  with  the.' 

2  '  To  harpe  or  carpe,  whare-so  J>ou  gose, 

Thomas,  ]>ou  sail  hafe  ]»e  chose  sothely  : ' 


And  he  saide,  Harpynge  kepe  I  none, 
Ffor  tonge  es  chefe  of  mynstralsye. 

3  ♦  If  J>ou  will  spelle,  or  tales  telle, 

Thomas,  poa  sail  neuer  lesynge  lye; 

Whare  euer  fou  fare,  by  frythe  or  felle, 

I  praye  the  speke  none  euyll  of  me. 

4  '  Ffare  wele,  Thomas,  witA-owttyne  gyle, 

I  may  no  lengare  duelle  with  the: ' 
'  Lufly  lady,  habyde  a  while, 
And  telle  fou  me  of  some  ferly.' 

5  '  Thomas,  herkyne  what  I  the  saye  : '  etc. 

Here  begin  the  prophecies. 


&  and  j  are  replaced  by  and  and  I. 

2^.  throstyll  cokke  :  throstell,  Cambridge  MS, 

2*.  menyde  hir. 
101.   Wanting.    Sheled,  etc. ,  Cambridge. 
12*,   13*.  Lansdowne,   elden ;    Cambridge,   eldryn,   el- 

dryne. 
16*.  prysse. 

17*.  prysee.     17".  wysse. 
43*.  me  by.     Cambridge,  be  me. 
46*.  also. 

Fytt  2. 
2'.  povi  gose.     Cambridge,  je  gon. 


38 
THE   WEE   WEE   MAN 


A.  a.    'The  Wee  Wee  Man,'  Herd's  MSS,  I,  153; 
Herd's  Scottish  Songs,  1776,  I,  9.5. 

B.  Caw's  Poetical  Museum,  p.  348. 

C.  '  The  Wee  Wee  Man,'  Scott's  Minstrelsy,  11,  234, 
ed.  1802. 

D.  '  The  Wee  Wee  Man,'  Kinloch  MSS,  VII,  253. 


B.  a.  '  The  Wee  Wee  Man,'  Motherwell's  Note- Book, 
fol.  40;  Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  195.  b.  Motherwell's 
Minstrelsy,  p.  343. 

P.   '  The  Wee  Wee  Man,'  Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  68. 

G.  '  The  Little  Man,'  Buchan's  Ballads  of  the  North 
of  Scotland,  I,  263. 


This  extremely  airy  and  sparkling  little 
ballad  varies  but  slightly  in  the  half  dozen 
known  copies.  The  one  in  the  Musical  Mu- 
seum,  No  370,  p.  382,  and  that  in  Ritson's 


Scotish  Songs,  II,   139,   are   reprinted   from 
Herd. 

Singularly  enough,  there  is  a  poem  in  eight- 
line  stanzas,  in  a   fourteenth-centufy  manu- 


ii 


330 


38.    THE  WEB  WEE  MAN 


script,  which  stands  in  somewhat  the  same 
relation  to  this  ballad  as  the  poem  of  Thomas 
of  Erceldoune  does  to  the  ballad  of  Thomas 
Rymer,  but  with  the  important  difference 
that  there  is  no  reason  for  deriving  the  ballad 
from  the  poem  in  this  instance.  There  seems 
to  have  been  an  intention  to  make  it,  like 
Thomas  of  Erceldoune,  an  introduction  to  a 


string   of   prophecies  which  follows,    but  no 

junction    has    been   effected.      This  poem  is 
given  in  an  appendix. 

A  is   translated  by  Arndt,  Bliitenlese,  p. 
210  ;  B,  with  a  few  improvements  from  B  b, 

by  Rosa  Warrens,  Schottische  Volkslieder,  p. 
12. 


Herd's  MSS,  1, 153,  Herd's  Ancient  and  Modern  Scottish 
Songs,  1776,  I,  95. 

1  As  I  was  wa'king  all  alone, 

Between  a  water  and  a  wa, 
And  there  I  spy'd  a  wee  wee  man. 
And  he  was  the  least  that  ere  I  saw. 

2  His  legs  were  scarce  a  shathmont's  length. 

And  thick  and  thimber  was  his  thigh ; 
Between  his  brows  there  was  a  span. 

And  between  his  shoulders  there  was  three. 

8  He  took  up  a  meikle  stane. 

And  he  flang  't  as  far  as  I  could  see ; 
Though  I  had  been  a  Wallace  wight, 
I  couldna  liften  't  to  my  knee. 

4  '  O  wee  wee  man,  but  thou  be  Strang ! 
O  tell  me  where  thy  dwelling  be  ? ' 


'  My  dwelling 's  down  at  yon  bonny  bower  ; 
O  wiU  you  go  with  me  and  see  ? ' 

5  On  we  lap,  and  awa  we  rade. 

Till  we  came  to  yon  bonny  green ; 
We  lighted  down  for  to  bait  our  horse. 
And  out  there  came  a  lady  fine. 

6  Four  and  twenty  at  her  back. 

And  they  were  a'  clad  out  in  green ; 
Though  the  King  of  Scotland  had  been  there. 
The  warst  o  them  might  hae  been  his  queen. 

7  On  we  lap,  and  awa  we  rade, 

TiU  we  came  to  yon  bonny  ha, 
Whare  the  roof  was  o  the  beaten  gould. 
And  the  floor  was  o  the  cristal  a'. 

8  When  we  came  to  the  stair-foot, 

Ladies  were  dancing,  jimp  and  sma. 
But  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye, 
My  wee  wee  man  was  clean  awa. 


Caw's  Poetical  Museum,  p.  348. 

1  As  I  was  walking  by  my  lane, 

Atween  a  water  and  a  wa, 
Tliere  sune  I  spied  a  wee  wee  man. 
He  was  the  least  that  eir  I  saw. 

2  His  legs  were  scant  a  shathmont's  length, 

And  sma  and  limber  was  his  tliie ; 
Atween  his  shoulders  was  ae  span. 
About  his  middle  war  but  three. 

3  He  has  tane  up  a  meikle  stane. 

And  flang  't  as  far  as  I  cold  see  ; 
Ein  thouch   I  had  been  Wallace  wicht, 
I  dought  na  lift  it  to  my  knie. 


4  '  O  wee  wee  man,  but  ye  be  Strang  ! 

TeU  me  whar  may  thy  dweUing  be  ? 
'  I  dwell  beneth  that  bonnie  bouir  ; 
O  will  ye  gae  wi  me  and  see  ? ' 

5  On  we  lap,  and  awa  we  rade, 

Till  we  cam  to  a  bonny  green ; 
We  hchted  syne  to  bait  our  steid, 
And  out  there  cam  a  lady  sheen. 

6  Wi  four  and  twentie  at  her  back, 

A'  comely  cled  in  glistering  green  ; 
Thouch  there  the  King  of  Scots  had  stude. 
The  warst  micht  weil  hae  been  his  queen. 

7  On  syne  we  past  wi  wondering  cheir. 

Till  we  cam  to  a  bonny  ha  ; 


38.    THE  WEE  WEE  MAN 


331 


The  roof  was  o  the  beaten  gowd, 
The  flure  was  o  the  crystal  a'. 

8  When  we  cam  there,  wi  wee  wee  knichts 
War  ladies  dancing,  jimp  and  sma, 


But  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eie, 

Baith  green  and  ha  war  clein  awa. 


Seott's  Minstrelsy,  II,  234,  ed.  1802,  incorporated  with 
'  The  Young  Tamlane.'    From  recitation. 

1  'T  WAS  down  by  Carterhaugh,  father, 

I  walked  beside  the  wa. 
And  there  I  saw  a  wee  wee  man, 
The  least  that  eer  I  saw. 

2  His  legs  were  skant  a  shathmont  lang, 

Yet  umber  was  his  thie  ; 
Between  his  brows  there  was  ae  span. 
And  between  his  shoulders  three. 

3  He  's  taen  and  flung  a  meikle  stane, 

As  far  as  I  could  see  ; 
I  could  na,  had  I  been  Wallace  wight, 
Hae  lifted  it  to  my  knee. 

4  '  O  wee  wee  man,  but  ye  be  Strang  ! 

Where  may  thy  dwelling  be  ? ' 


'  It 's  down  beside  yon  bonny  bower  ; 
Fair  lady,  come  and  see.' 

5  On  we  lap,  and  away  we  rade, 

Down  to  a  bonny  green  ; 
We  lighted  down  to  bait  our  steed, 
And  we  saw  the  fairy  queen. 

6  With  four  and  twenty  at  her  back, 

Of  ladies  clad  Ln  green  ; 
Tho  the  King  of  Scotland  had  been  there. 
The  worst  might  hae  been  his  queen. 

7  On  we  lap,  and  away  we  rade, 

Down  to  a  bonny  ha  ; 
The  roof  was  o  the  beaten  goud. 
The  floor  was  of  chrystal  a'. 

8  And  there  were  dancing  on  the  floor, 

Fair  ladies  jimp  and  sma  ; 
But  in  the  twinkling  o  an  eye, 
They  sainted  clean  awa. 


Kinloch  MSS,  VII,  253.    From  Mrs  Elder. 

1  As  I  gaed  out  to  tak  a  walk, 

Atween  the  water  and  the  wa, 
There  I  met  wi  a  wee  wee  man. 
The  weest  man  that  ere  I  saw. 

2  Thick  and  short  was  his  legs, 

And  sma  and  thin  was  his  thie. 
And  atween  liis  een  a  flee  might  gae. 

And  atween  his  shouthers  were  inches  three. 

3  And  he  has  tane  up  a  muckle  stane. 

And  thrown  it  farther  than  I  cotcd  see ; 
If  I  had  been  as  strong  as  ere  Wallace  was, 
I  coud  na  lift  it  to  my  knie. 

4  '  O,'  quo  I,  '  but  ye  be  strong ! 

And  0  where  may  your  dwelling  be  ?  ' 


'  It 's  down  in  to  yon  bonnie  glen  ; 
Gin  ye   dinna   believe,   ye   can   come   and 
see.' 

5  And  we  rade  on,  and  we  sped  on, 

TiU  we  cam  to  yon  bonny  glen. 
And  there  we  lichted  and  louted  in, 
And  there  we  saw  a  dainty  dame. 

6  There  was  four  and  twenty  wating  on  her. 

And  ilka  ane  was  clad  in  green, 
And  he  had  been  the  king  of  fair  Scotland, 
The    warst    o    them   micht   hae    been   his 
queen. 

7  There  war  pipers  playing  on  ilka  stair, 

And  ladies  dancing  in  Uka  ha, 
But  before  ye  cowd  hae  sadd  what  was  that, 
The  house  and  wee  manie  was  awa. 


332 


38.    THE  WEE  WEE   MAN 


E 


a.  Motherwell's  Note-Book,  fol.  40,  "  from  Agnes  Lyle  ;  " 
Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  195,  "from  the  recitation  of  Apnes 
Laird,  Kilbarchan."    b.  Motherwell's  Minstrelsy,  p.  343. 

1  As  I  was  walking  mine  alone, 

Betwext  the  water  and  the  wa, 
There  I  spied  a  wee  wee  man, 

He  was  the  least  ane  that  eer  I  saw. 

2  His  leg  was  scarse  a  shaftmont  lang. 

Both  thick  and  nimble  was  his  knee  ; 
Between  his  eyes  there  was  a  span, 
Betwixt  his  shoulders  were  ells  three. 


3  This  wee  wee  man  pulled  up  a  stone, 
He  flang  't  as  far  as  I  could  see  ; 
Tho  I  had  been  like  Wallace  strong, 
I  wadna  gotn  't  up  to  my  knee. 


4  I  said,  Wee  man,  oh,  but  you  're  strong  ! 

Where  is  your  dwelling,  or  where  may 't  be  ? 
'  My  dwelling 's  at  yon  bonnie  green  ; 
Fair  lady,  will  ye  go  and  see  ?  ' 

5  On  we  lap,  and  awa  we  rade. 

Until  we  came  to  yonder  green  ; 
We  lichtit  down  to  rest  our  steed, 
And  there  cam  out  a  lady  soon. 

6  Four  and  twenty  at  her  back. 

And  every  one  of  them  was  olad  in  green  ; 
Altho  he  had  been  the  King  of  Scotland, 

The  warst  o  them  a'    micht  hae  been  his 
queen. 

7  There  were  pipers  playing  in  every  neuk. 

And  ladies  dancing,  jimp  and  sma, 
And  aye  the  owre-turn  o  their  tune 

Was  '  Our  wee  wee  man  has  been  lang  awa.' 


Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  68,  "  from  the  recitation  of  Mrs  Wil- 
son, of  the  Renfrewshire  Tontine ;  now  of  the  Caledonian 
Hotel,  Inverness." 

1  As  I  was  walking  mine  alane. 

Between  the  water  and  the  wa. 
And  oh  there  I  spy'd  a  wee  wee  mannie, 
The  weeest  mannie  that  ere  I  saw. 


4  So  we  '11  awa,  and  on  we  rade. 

Till  we  cam  to  yon  bonnie  green ; 
We  lichted  down  to  bait  our  horse. 
And  up  and  started  a  lady  syne. 

5  Wi  four  and  twenty  at  her  back, 

And  they  were  a'  weell  clad  in  green ; 
Tho  I  had  been  a  crowned  king, 

The  warst  o  them  might  ha  been  my  queen. 


2  His  legs  they  were  na  a  gude  inch  lang. 

And  thick  and  nimble  was  his  thie  ; 
Between  his  een  there  was  a  span. 

And  between  his  shouthers  there  were  ells 
three. 

3  I  asked  at  this  wee  wee  mannie 

Whare  his  dwelling  place  might  be  ; 
The  answer  that  he  gied  to  me 
Was,  Cum  alang,  and  ye  shall  see. 


6  So  we  '11  awa,  and  on  we  rade, 

Till  we  cam  to  yon  bonnie  hall ; 
The  rafters  were  o  the  beaten  gold. 
And  silver  wire  were  the  kebars  all. 


And  there  was  mirth  in  every  end, 
And  ladies  dancing,  ane  and  a. 

And  aye  the  owre-turn  o  their  sang 
Was    '  The  wee   wee   mannie  's 


been   lang 


G 


Buchan'g  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  I,  263. 

1  As  I  gaed  out  to  tak  the  air, 

Between  Midmar  and  bonny  Craigha, 
There  I  met  a  little  wee  man, 
The  less  o  him  I  never  saw. 


2  His  legs  were  but  a  finger  lang, 

And  thick  and  nimle  was  his  knee ; 
Between  his  brows  there  was  a  span. 
Between  his  shoulders  ells  three. 

3  He  lifted  a  stane  sax  feet  in  hight. 

He  lifted  it  up  till  his  right  knee. 
And  fifty  yards  and  mair,  I  'm  sure, 
I  wyte  he  made  the  stane  to  flee. 


38.    THE  WEE  WEE  MAN 


333 


4  '  O  little  wee  man,  but  ye  be  wight ! 

Tell  me  whar  your  dwelling  be  ; ' 
'  I  hae  a  bower,  compactly  built. 
Madam,  gin  ye  '11  cum  and  see.' 

5  Sae  on  we  lap,  and  awa  we  rade, 

Till  we  come  to  yon  little  ha  ; 
The  kipples  ware  o  the  gude  red  gowd, 
The  reef  was  o  the  proseyla. 


6  Pipers  were  playing,  ladies  dancing. 

The  ladies  dancing,  jimp  and  sma  ; 
At  ilka  turning  o  the  spring. 

The  little  man  was  wearin  's  wa. 

7  Out  gat  the  lights,  on  cam  the  mist. 

Ladies  nor  mannie  mair  coud  see 
I  tumd  about,  and  gae  a  look, 
Just  at  the  foot  o'  Benachie. 


2\ 
4', 


The  ■printed  copy  has  thiglis. 

dwelling  down. 

There  is  a  copy  of  this  hallad  in  Cunning- 
ham's Songs  of  Scotland,  1, 303.  Though 
no  confidence  can  he  felt  in  the  genuine- 
ness of  the  "  several  variations  from  re- 
citation and  singing,"  with  which  Cun- 
ningham says  he  sought  to  improve 
Herd's  version,  the  more  considerable 
ones  are  here  noted. 

O  there  I  met.     2'^.  a  shathmont  lang. 

been  a  giant  born.  4'.  ye  're  wonder  strong. 
4^  0  ladie,  gang  wi  me.     5'.  away  we  flew. 
6^.  to  a  valley  green. 

down  and  he  stamped  his  foot. 

And  up  there  rose. 

Wi  four.     6^  the  glossy  green. 

stately  ha. 


1«. 
3». 


5» 
6*. 

n 


8.    And  there  were  harpings  loud  and  sweet, 
And  ladies  dancing,  jimp  and  sma ; 
He  clapped  his  hands,  and  ere  I  vrist. 
He  sank  and  saunted  clean  awa. 

B.    a.    4''.  your. 

Motherwell   has    made  one  or  two  slight 
cha7iges  in  copying  from  his  Note-Book 
into  his  MS. 
b.    Besides  some  alterations  of  his  own,  Moth- 
erwell has  introduced  readings  from  P. 

2*.  there  were. 

3^  as  Wallace. 

5*.  lady  sheen.     6^.  Wi  four. 

G''.  And  they  were  a'  weel  clad. 

After  6  is  inserted  F  6,  with  the  first  line 
changed  to 

So  on  we  lap,  and  awa  we  rade. 


APPENDIX. 


This  piece  is  found  in  Cotton  MS.,  Julius,  A,  V, 
the  ninth  article  in  the  manuscript,  fol.  175,  r°, 
(otherwise  180,  r°).  It  is  here  given  nearly  as 
printed  by  Mr  Thomas  Wright  in  his  edition  of  the 
Chronicle  of  Pierre  de  Langtoft,  H,  452.  It  had 
been  previously  printed  in  Ritson's  Ancient  Songs, 
ed.  1829,  I,  40  ;  Finlay's  Scottish  Ballads,  II,  168  ; 
the  Retrospective  Review,  Second  Series,  II,  326. 
The  prophecies,  omitted  here,  are  given  by  all  the 
above. 

1  Al8  y  yod  on  ay  Mounday 

Bytwene  Wyltinden  and  Walle, 
Me  ane  aftere  brade  waye, 
Ay  litel  man  y  mette  withalle  ; 


The  leste  that  ever  I  sathe,  [sothe]  to  say, 
Oithere  in  boure,  oithere  in  halle; 

His  robe  was  noithere  grene  na  gray, 
Bot  alle  yt  was  of  riche  palle. 

On  me  he  cald,  and  bad  me  bide; 

Well  stille  y  stode  ay  litel  space; 
Fra  Lanchestre  the  parke  syde 

Yeen  he  come,  wel  fair  his  pase. 
He  hailsed  me  with  mikel  pride; 

Ic  haved  wel  mykel  ferly  wat  he  was; 
I  saide,  Wel  mote  the  bityde  I 

That  litel  man  with  large  face. 

I  biheld  that  litel  man 

Bi  the  stretes  als  we  gon  gae; 

His  herd  was  syde  ay  large  span, 
And  glided  als  the  fetbere  of  pae  ; 

His  heved  was  wyte  als  any  swan. 
His  hegehen  ware  gret  and  grai  alsso; 


334 


38.    THE  WEE  WEE  MAN 


Brues  lange,  wel  I  the  can 
Merke  it  to  five  inches  and  mae. 


Stintid  vs  broke  no  becke; 
Ferlicke  me  thouth  hu  so  mouth  bee. 


Armes  scort,  for  sothe  I  saye, 

Ay  span  seemed  thaem  to  bee; 
Handes  brade,  vytouten  nay, 

And  fiageres  lange,  he  scheued  me. 
Ay  Stan  he  toke  op  thare  it  lay. 

And  castid  forth  that  I  mothe  see  ; 
Ay  merke-soote  of  large  way 

Bifor  me  strides  he  castid  three. 

Wel  stille  I  stod  als  did  the  stane, 

To  loke  him  on  thouth  me  nouthe  lange; 
His  robe  was  alle  golde  bigane, 

Wel  craftlike  maked,  I  underestande; 
Botones  asurd,  everlke  ane, 

Fra  his  elboutlie  on  til  his  hande ; 
Eldelike  man  was  he  nane, 

That  in  myn  herte  icke  onderestande. 

Til  him  I  sayde  f  ul  sone  on  ane, 

For  forthirmare  I  wald  him  fraine, 
Glalli  wild  1  wit  thi  name, 

And  I  wist  wat  me  mouthe  gaine; 
Thou  ert  so  litel  of  flesse  and  bane, 

And  so  mikel  of  mithe  and  mayne  ; 
Ware  vones  thou,  litel  man,  at  hame? 

Wit  of  the  I  walde  ful  faine. 

'  Thoth  I  be  litel  and  lith, 

Am  y  nothe  wytouten  wane ; 
Fferli  frained  thou  wat  I  hith, 

Yat  thou  salt  noth  with  my  name. 
My  wonige  stede  ful  wel  es  dyth, 

JSou  sone  thou  salt  se  at  hame.' 
Til  him  I  sayde,  For  Godes  mith, 

Lat  me  forth  myn  erand  gane. 

'  The  thar  noth  of  thin  errand  lette, 
Thouth  thou  come  ay  stonde  wit  me ; 

Forthere  salt  thou  noth  bisette 
Bi  miles  twa  noythere  hi  three.' 

Na  linger  durste  I  for  him  lette. 
But  forth  ij  fundid  wyt  that  free; 


9  He  vent  forth,  als  ij  you  say, 

In  at  ay  yate,  ij  underestande  ; 
Intil  ay  yate,  wundouten  nay; 

It  to  se  thouth  me  nouth  lange. 
The  bankers  on  the  binkes  lay, 

And  fair  lordes  sette  ij  fonde  ; 
In  ilka  ay  hirn  ij  herd  ay  lay. 

And  levedys  south  meloude  sange. 

The  meeting  with  the  little  man  was  on  Monday.  We 
are  now  invited  to  listen  to  a  tale  told  on  Wednesday  by 
"  a  moody  barn,"  who  is  presently  addressed,  in  language 
which,  to  be  sure,  fits  the  elf  well  enough,  as  "  merry  man, 
that  is  so  wight : "  but  things  do  not  fay  at  all  here. 

10  Lithe,  bothe  yonge  and  aide  : 

Of  ay  worde  ij  will  you  saye, 
A  litel  tale  that  me  was  tald 

Erli  on  ay  Wedenesdaye. 
A  mody  barn,  that  was  ful  bald, 

My  frend  that  ij  frained  aye, 
Al  my  yerning  he  me  tald. 

And  yatid  me  als  we  went  bi  waye. 

H   '  Miri  man,  that  es  so  wythe. 

Of  ay  thinge  gif  me  answers : 
For  him  that  mensked  man  wyt  mith, 
Wat  sal  worth  of  this  were  ?  '  &c. 


The  orthography  of  this  piece,  if  rightly  rendered,  is 
peculiar,  and  it  is  certainly  not  consistent. 
1^.  saith  ybr  saw  occurs  in  23^. 

Wright,  Y  cen:  Retrosp.  Rev.,  Yeen. 

W.,  Merkes:  R.  R.,  Merke.     fize. 

W.,  everlkes:  R.  R.,  euerelke. 

W.,  of  their:  R.  R.,  of  ye  (fe).  i.  wald. 

W.,  That  thou:  R.R.,  yat. 

dygh.     9*.  south  me. 

me  loude. 

W.,  thering:  J?.  R.,  yering. 

W.,  y  atid  :  R.  R.,  yatid. 


2*. 
38. 
5'. 
68. 
7*. 
75. 
98. 
10'. 

108. 


39.    TAM   LIN 


335 


39 
TAM  LIN 


A.  '  Tam  Lin,' Johnson's  Museum,  p.  423,  1792.  Com- 
municated by  Burns. 

B.  '  Young  Tom  Line,'  Glenriddell  MS.,  vol.  xi,  No 
17,  1791. 

C.  '  Kertonha,  or.  The  Fairy  Court,'  Herd,  The  An- 
cient and  Modern  Scots  Songs,  1769,  p.  300. 

D.  '  Tom  Linn.'  a.  Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  532.  b.  Maid- 
ment's  New  Book  of  Old  Ballads,  p.  54.  c.  '  Tom 
o  Linn,'  Pitcairn's  MSS,  III,  fol.  67. 

B.   •  Young  Tamlin,'  Motherwell's  Note-Book,  fol.  13. 


r.   »  Tomaline,'  Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  64. 

G.  '  Tam-a-line,  the  Elfin  Knight,'  Buchan's  MSS,  I, 
8  ;  '  Tam  a-Lin,  or  The  Knight  of  Faery lande,' 
Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  595.  Dixon,  Scottish  Tra- 
ditionary Versions  of  Ancient  Ballads,  Percy  Society, 
XVII,  11. 

H.  'Young  Tam  Lane,'  Campbell  MSS,  II,  129. 

Z  '  The  Young  Tamlane.'  Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish 
Border:  a,  II,  337,  ed.  1833 ;  b,  11,  228,  ed.  1802. 


The  first  twenty-two  stanzas  of  B  differ 
from  the  corresponding  ones  in  A,  1-23,  omit- 
ting 16,  by  only  a  few  words,  and  there  are 
other  agreements  in  the  second  half  of  these 
versions.  Burns's  intimacy  with  Robert  Rid- 
dell  would  naturally  lead  to  a  communication 
from  one  to  the  other ;  but  both  may  have 
derived  the  verses  that  are  common  from  the 
same  third  party.  Herd's  fragment,  C,  was 
the  earliest  printed.  Scott's  version,  I,  as  he 
himself  states,  was  compounded  of  the  Mu- 
seum copy,  Riddell's,  Herd's,  and  "  several 
recitals  from  tradition."  I  b,  the  edition  of 
1802,  contained  fragments  of  '  The  Bromfield 
Hiir  and  of  'The  Wee  Wee  Man,'  which 
were  dropped  from  the  later  edition  ;  but  un- 
fortunately this  later  edition  was  corrupted 
with  eleven  new  stanzas,  which  are  not  simply 
somewhat  of  a  modern  cast  as  to  diction,  as 
Scott  remarks,  but  of  a  grossly  modern  inven- 
tion, and  as  unlike  popular  verse  as  anything 
can  be.  I  is  given  according  to  the  later  edi- 
tion, with  those  stanzas  omitted ;  and  all  that 


•  These  are  the  concluding  verses,  coming  much  nearer  to 
the  language  of  this  world  than  the  rest.  They  may  have  a 
basis  of  tradition  : 


is  peculiar  to  this  version,  and  not  taken  from 
the  Museum,  Glenriddell,  or  Herd,  is  distin- 
guished from  the  rest  by  the  larger  type. 
This,  it  will  be  immediately  seen,  is  very  lit- 
tle. 

The  copy  in  Tales  of  Wonder,  II,  459,  is 
A,  altered  by  Lewis.  Mr  Joseph  Robertson 
notes,  Kinloch  MSS,  VI,  10,  that  his  mother 
had  communicated  to  him  some  fragments  of 
this  ballad  slightly  differing  from  Scott's  ver- 
sion, with  a  substitution  of  the  name  True 
Tammas  for  Tam  Lane. 

The  Scots  Magazine  for  October,  1818, 
LXXXII,  327-29,  has  a  "  fragment"  of  more 
than  sixty  stanzas,  composed  in  an  abomina- 
ble artificial  lingo,  on  the  subject  of  this  bal- 
lad, and  alleged  to  have  been  taken  from 
the  mouth  of  a  good  old  peasant,  who,  not 
having  heard  the  ballad  for  thirty  years,  could 
remember  no  more.  Thomas  the  Rhymer 
appears  in  the  last  lines  with  very  great  dis- 
tinction, but  it  is  not  clear  what  part  he  has 
in  the  story.* 


Whar  they  war  aware  o  the  Fairy  King, 
A  huntan  wi  his  train. 


336 


39.    TAM  LIN 


A  copy  printed  in  Aberdeen,  1862,  and  said 
to  have  been  edited  by  the  Rev.  John  Bur- 
nett Pratt,  of  Cruden,  Aberdeenshire,  is  made 
up  from  Aytoun  and  Scott,  with  a  number  of 
slight  changes.* 

'  The  Tayl  of  the  jong  Tamlene '  is  spoken 
of  as  told  among  a  company  of  shepherds,  in 
Vedderburn's  Complaint  of  Scotland,  1549,  p. 
63  of  Dr  James  A.  H.  Murray's  edition  for 
the  Early  English  Text  Society.  '  Thorn  of 
Lyn '  is  mentioned  as  a  dance  of  the  same 
party,  a  little  further  on,  Murray,  p.  66,  and 
'  Young  Thomlin  '  is  the  name  of  an  air  in  a 
medley  in  "  Wood's  MS.,"  inserted,  as  David 
Laing  thought,  between  1600  and  1620,  and 
printed  in  Forbes's  Cantus,  1666  :  Stenhouse's 
ed.  of  The  Scots  Musical  Museum,  1853,  IV, 
440.  "  A  ballett  of  Thomalyn  "  is  licensed 
to  Master  John  Wallye  and  Mistress  Toye  in 
1558  :  Arber,  Transcript  of  the  Registers  of 
the  Company  of  Stationers,  I,  22 ;  cited  by 
Furnivall,  Captain  Cox,  &c.,  Ballad  Society, 
p.  clxiv. 

Sir  Walter  Scott  relates  a  tradition  of  an 
attempt  to  rescue  a  woman  from  fairydom 
which  recalls  the  ill  success  of  many  of  the  ef- 
forts to  disenchant  White  Ladies  in  Germany  : 
"  The  wife  of  a  farmer  in  Lothian  had  been 
carried  off  by  the  fairies,  and,  during  the  year 
of  probation,  repeatedly  appeared  on  Sunday, 
in  the  midst  of  her  children,  combing  their 
hair.  On  one  of  these  occasions  she  was  ac- 
costed by  her  husband  ;  when  she  related  to 
him  the  unfortunate  event  which  had  sepa- 
rated them,  instructed  him  by  what  means  he 
might  win  her,  and  exhorted  him  to  exert  all 
his  courage,  since  her  temporal  and  eternal 
happiness  depended  on  the  success  of  his  at- 
tempt. The  farmer,  wlio  ardently  loved  his 
wife,  set  out  at  Halloween,  and,  in  the  midst 
of  a  plot  of  furze,  waited  impatiently  for  the 


procession  of  the  fairies.  At  the  ringing  of 
the  fairy  bridles,  and  the  wild,  unearthly 
sound  which  accompanied  the  cavalcade,  his 
heart  failed  him,  and  he  suffered  the  ghostly 
train  to  pass  by  without  interruption.  When 
the  last  had  rode  past,  the  whole  ti'oop  van- 
ished, with  loud  shouts  of  laughter  and  exul- 
tation, among  which  he  plainly  discovered  the 
voice  of  his  wife,  lamenting  that  he  had  lost 
her  forever."  The  same  author  proceeds  to 
recount  a  real  incident,  which  took  place  at 
the  town  of  North  Berwick,  witliin  memory,  of 
a  man  who  was  prevented  from  undertaking, 
or  at  least  meditating,  a  similar  rescue  only  by 
shrewd  and  prompt  practical  measures  on  the 
part  of  his  minister.f 

This  fine  ballad  stands  by  itself,  and  is  not, 
as  might  have  been  expected,  found  in  posses- 
sion of  any  people  but  the  Scottish.  Yet  it  has 
connections,  through  the  principal  feature  in  the 
story,  the  retransformation  of  Tam  Lin,  with 
Greek  popular  tradition  older  than  Homer. 

Something  of  the  successive  changes  of  shape 
is  met  with  in  a  Scandinavian  ballad  :  '  Nat- 
tergalen,'  Grundtvig,  II,  168,  No  57 ;  '  Den 
fortrollade  Prinsessan,'  Afzelius,  II,  67,  No  41, 
Atterbom,  Poetisk  Kalender,  1816,  p.  44 ;  Dy- 
beck,  Rima,  1844,  p.  94,  No  2 ;  Axelson,  Van- 
dring  i  Wermlands  Elfdal,  p.  21,  No  3  ;  Linde- 
man,  Norske  Fjeldmelodier,  Tekstbilag  til  Iste 
Bind,  p.  3,  No  10. 

Though  many  copies  of  this  ballad  have 
been  obtained  from  the  mouth  of  the  people, 
all  that  are  known  are  derived  from  flying 
sheets,  of  which  there  is  a  Danish  one  dated 
1721  and  a  Swedish  of  the  year  1738.  What 
is  of  more  account,  the  style  of  the  piece,  as  we 
have  it,  is  not  quite  popular.  Nevertheless, 
the  story  is  entirely  of  the  popular  stamp,  and 
so  is  the  feature  in  it,  which  alone  concerns  us 
materially.     A  nightingale  relates  to  a  knight 


Four  an  twenty  gentlemen 

Cam  by  on  steeds  o  brown  ; 
lu  his  hand  ilk  bore  a  siller  wand, 

On  his  head  a  siller  crown. 

Four  an  twenty  beltit  knichts 

On  daiplit  grej-s  cam  by  ; 
Gowden  their  wands  an  crowns,  whilk  scanct 

Like  streamers  in  the  sky. 


Four  an  twenty  noble  kings 

Cam  by  on  steeds  o  snaw, 
But  True  Thomas,  the  gude  Rhymer, 

Was  king  outower  them  a'. 

*  "  Tamlane  :  an  old  Scottish  Border  Ballad.  Aberdeen, 
Lewis  and  James  Smith,  1862."  lam  indebted  for  a  sight 
of  this  copy,  and  for  the  information  as  to  the  editor,  to  Mr 
Macmath. 

t  Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish  Border,  II,  221-24,  ed.  1802. 


39.    TAM   LIN 


337 


how  she  had  once  had  a  lover,  but  a  step- 
mother soon  upset  all  that,  and  turned  her 
into  a  bird  and  her  brother  into  a  wolf.  The 
curse  was  not  to  be  taken  off  the  brother  till 
he  drank  of  his  step-dame's  blood,  and  after 
seven  yeai-s  he  caught  her,  when  she  was  tak- 
ing a  walk  in  a  wood,  tore  out  her  heart,  and 
regained  his  human  shape.  The  knight  pro- 
poses to  the  bird  that  she  shall  come  and  pass 
the  winter  in  his  bower,  and  go  back  to  the 
wood  in  the  summer :  this,  the  nightingale 
says,  the  step-mother  had  forbidden,  as  long 
as  she  wore  feathers.  The  knight  seizes  the 
bird  by  the  foot,  takes  her  home  to  his  bower, 
and  fastens  the  windows  and  doors.  She 
turns  to  all  the  marvellous  beasts  one  ever 
heard  of,  —  to  a  lion,  a  bear,  a  variety  of  small 
snakes,  and  at  last  to  a  loathsome  lind-worm. 
The  knight  makes  a  sufficient  incision  for  blood 
to  come,  and  a  maid  stands  on  the  floor  as  fair 
as  a  flower.  He  now  asks  after  her  origin, 
and  she  answers,  Egypt's  king  was  my  fa- 
ther, and  its  queen  my  mother;  my  brother 
was  doomed  to  rove  the  woods  as  a  wolf.  "  If 
Egypt's  king,"  he  rejoins,  "  was  your  father, 
and  its  queen  your  mother,  then  for  sure  you 
are  my  sister's  daughter,  who  was  doomed  to 
be  a  nightingale."  * 

We  come  much  nearer,  and  indeed  sur- 
prisingly near,  to  the  principal  event  of  the 
Scottish  ballad  in  a  Cretan  fairy-tale,  cited 
from  Chourmouzis  by  Bernhard  Schmidt.f  A 
young  peasant  of  the  village  Sgourokephdli, 
who  was  a  good  plaj'er  on  the  rote,  used  to  be 
taken  by  the  nereids  into  their  grotto  for  the 
sake  of  his  music.  He  fell  in  love  with  one 
of  them,  and,  not  knowing  how  to  help  him- 
self, had  recourse  to  an  old  woman  of  his  vil- 
lage. She  gave  him  this  advice :  that  just 
before  cock-crow  he  should  seize  his  beloved 
by  the  hair,  and  hold  on,  unterrified,  till  the 
cock  crew,  whatever  forms  she  should  assume. 
The  peasant  gave  good  heed,  and  the  next 
time  he  was  taken  into  the  cave  fell  to  play- 
ing, as  usual,  and  the  nereids  to  dancing.    But 

•  Restoration  from  enchantment  is  efiected  by  drinking 
blood,  in  other  ballads,  as  Grundtvig,  No  55,  II,  156,  No  58, 
II,  174  ;  in  No  56,  II,  158,  by  a  maid  in  falcon  shape  eating 
of  a  bit  of  flesh  which  her  lover  had  cut  from  his  breast. 
43 


as  cock-crow  drew  nigh,  he  put  down  his  in- 
strument, sprang  upon  the  object  of  his  pas- 
sion, and  grasped  her  by  her  locks.  She  in- 
stantly changed  shape  ;  became  a  dog,  a  snake, 
a  camel,  fire.  But  he  kept  his  courage  and 
held  on,  and  presently  the  cock  crew,  and  the 
nereids  vanished  all  but  one.  His  love  re- 
turned to  her  proper  beauty,  and  went  with 
him  to  his  home.  After  the  lapse  of  a  year 
she  bore  a  son,  but  in  all  this  time  never  ut- 
tered a  word.  The  young  husband  was  fain 
to  ask  counsel  of  the  old  woman  again,  who 
told  him  to  heat  the  oven  hot,  and  say  to  his 
wife  that  if  she  would  not  speak  he  would 
throw  the  boy  into  the  oven.  He  acted  upon 
this  prescription  ;  the  nereid  cried  out,  Let  go 
my  child,  dog  I  tore  the  infant  from  his  arms, 
and  vanished. 

This  Cretan  tale,  recovered  from  tradition 
even  later  than  our  ballad,  repeats  all  the  im- 
portant circumstances  of  the  forced  marriage 
of  Thetis  with  Peleus.  Chiron,  like  the  old 
woman,  suggested  to  his  prot^g^  that  he 
should  lay  hands  on  the  nereid,  and  keep  his 
hold  through  whatever  metamorphosis  she 
might  make.  He  looked  out  for  his  oppor- 
tunity and  seized  her ;  she  turned  to  fire, 
water,  and  a  wild  beast,  but  he  did  not  let  go 
till  she  resumed  her  primitive  shape.  Thetis, 
having  borne  a  son,  wished  to  make  him  im- 
mortal ;  to  which  end  she  buried  him  in  fire 
by  night,  to  burn  out  his  human  elements,  and 
anointed  him  with  ambrosia  by  day.  Peleus 
was  not  taken  into  counsel,  but  watched  her, 
and  saw  the  boy  gasping  in  the  fire,  which 
made  him  call  out ;  and  Thetis,  thus  thwarted, 
abandoned  the  child  and  went  back  to  the 
nereids.  Apollodorus,  Bibliotheca,  HI,  13, 
5,6. 

The  Cretan  tale  does  not  differ  from  the 
one  repeated  by  Apollodorus  from  earlier  writ- 
ers a  couple  of  thousand  years  ago  more  than 
two  versions  of  a  story  gathered  from  oral 
tradition  in  these  days  are  apt  to  do.  Whether 
it  has  come  down  to  our  time  from  mouth  to 

t  Volksleben  der  Neugriechen,  pp  115-17,  "from  Chour- 
mouzis, KprjTiKci,  p.  69  f,  Athens,  1842."  Chourmouzis  heard 
this  story,  about  1820  or  1830,  from  an  old  Cretan  peasant, 
who  had  heard  it  from  his  grandfather. 


338 


39.    TAM  LIN 


mouth  through  twenty-five  centuries  or  more, 
or  whether,  having  died  out  of  the  popular 
memory,  it  was  reintroduced  through  litera- 
ture, is  a  question  that  cannot  be  decided  with 
certainty ;  but  there  will  be  nothing  unlikely 
in  the  former  supposition  to  those  who  bear 
in  mind  the  tenacity  of  tradition  among  peo- 
ple who  have  never  known  books.* 
B  34, 

First  dip  me  in  a  stand  of  milk, 
And  then  in  a  stand  of  water ; 

Hand  me  fast,  let  me  na  gae, 
I  '11  be  your  bairnie's  father, 

has  an  occult  and  very  important  significance 
which  has  only  very  lately  been  pointed  out, 
and  which  modern  reciters  had  completely  lost 
knowledge  of,  as  appears  by  the  disorder  into 
which  the  stanzas  have  fallen. f  Immersion 
in  a  liquid,  generally  water,  but  sometimes 
milk,  is  a  process  requisite  for  passing  from  a 
non-human  shape,  px'oduced  by  enchantment, 
back  into  the  human,  and  also  for  returning 
from  the  human  to  a  non-human  state,  whether 
produced  by  enchantment  or  original.  We 
have  seen  that  the  serpent  which  Lanzelet 
kisses,  in  Ulrich's  romance,  is  not  by  that  sim- 
ple though  essential  act  instantly  turned  into 
a  woman.  It  is  still  necessary  that  she  should 
bathe  in  a  spring  (p.  308).  In  an  Albanian 
tale,  '  Taubenliebe,'  Hahn,  No  102,  II,  130,  a 
dove  flies  into  a  princess's  window,  and,  re- 
ceiving her  caresses,  asks,  Do  you  love  me  ? 
The  pi'incess  answering  Yes,  the  dove  says, 
Then  have  a  dish  of  milk  ready  to-morrow, 
and  you  shall  see  what  a  handsome  man  I  am. 

*  The  silence  of  the  Cretan  fairy,  as  B.  Schmidt  has  re- 
marked, even  seems  to  explain  Sophocles  calling  the  nuptials 
of  Peleus  and  Thetis  "  speechless,"  a<pe6yyovs  yd/xovs.  Soph- 
ocles gives  the  transformations  as  being  lion,  snake,  fire, 
water  :  Scholia  in  Pindari  Nemea,  III,  60  ;  Schmidt,  as  be- 
fore, p.  116,  note.  That  a  firm  grip  and  a  fearless  one  would 
make  any  sea-god  do  your  will  would  appear  from  the  ad- 
ditional instances  of  Menelaus  and  Proteus,  in  Odyssey,  IV, 
and  of  Hercules  and  Nereus,  ApoUodorus,  II,  5, 11,  4,  Scho- 
lia in  ApoUonii  Argonaut.,  IV,  1396.  Proteus  masks  as  lion, 
snake,  panther,  boar,  running  water,  tree  ;  Kerens  as  water, 
fire,  or,  as  ApoUodorus  says,  in  all  sorts  of  shapes.  Bacchus 
was  accustomed  to  transform  himself  when  violence  was 
done  him,  but  it  is  not  recorded  that  he  was  ever  brought  to 
terms  like  the  watery  divinities.  See  Mannhardt,  Wald-und 
Feldkulte,  II,  60-64,  who  also  well  rem.irks  that  the  tales 


A  dish  of  milk  is  ready  the  next  morning ;  the 
dove  flies  into  the  window,  dips  himself  in  the 
milk,  drops  his  feathers,  and  steps  out  a  beau- 
tiful youth.  When  it  is  time  to  go,  the  youth 
dips  in  the  milk,  and  flies  o£E  a  dove.  This 
goes  on  every  day  for  two  years.  A  Greek 
tale,  '  Goldgerte,'  Hahn,  No  7,  I,  97,  has  the 
same  transformation,  with  water  for  milk.  Our 
B  34  has  well-water  only.ij:  Perhaps  the  bath 
of  milk  occurred  in  one  earlier  version  of  our 
ballad,  the  water-bath  in  another,  and  the  two 
accounts  became  blended  in  time. 

The  end  of  the  mutations,  in  P  11,  G  43, 
is  a  naked  man,  and  a  mother-naked  man  in 
B  33,  under  the  presumed  right  arrangement ; 
meaning  by  right  arrangement,  however,  not 
the  original  arrangement,  but  the  most  consis- 
tent one  for  the  actual  form  of  the  tradition. 
Judging  by  analogy,  the  naked  man  should 
issue  from  the  bath  of  milk  or  of  water ;  into 
which  he  should  have  gone  in  one  of  his  non- 
human  shapes,  a  dove,  swan,  or  snake  (for 
which,  too,  a  "  stand  "  of  milk  or  of  water  is  a 
more  practicable  bath  than  for  a  man).  The 
fragment  C  adds  some  slight  probability  to 
this  supposition.  The  last  change  there  is 
into  "  a  dove  but  and  a  swan ; "  then  Tam 
Lin  bids  the  maiden  to  let  go,  for  he  '11  "  be 
a  perfect  man  :  "  this,  nevertheless,  he  could 
not  well  become  without  some  further  cere- 
mony. A  is  the  only  version  which  has  pre- 
served an  essentially  correct  process :  Tam 
Lin,  when  a  burning  gleed,  is  to  be  thrown 
into  well-water,  from  which  he  will  step  forth 
a  naked  knight.§ 

At  stated  periods,  which  the  ballads  make 

of  the  White  Ladies,  who,  to  be  released  from  a  ban,  must 
be  kissed  three  times  in  various  shapes,  as  toad,  wolf,  snake, 
etc.,  have  relation  to  these  Greek  traditions. 

t  The  significance  of  the  immersion  in  water  is  shown  by 
Mannhardt,  Wald-  u.  Feldkulte,  II,  64  ff.  The  disorder  in 
the  stanzas  of  A  at  this  place  has  of  course  been  rectified. 
In  Scott's  version,  I,  transformations  are  added  at  random 
from  C,  q/ler  the  dipping  in  milk  and  in  water,  which  seems 
indeed  to  have  been  regarded  by  the  reciters  only  as  a  meas- 
ure for  cooling  red-hot  iron  or  the  burning  gleed,  and  not  as 
the  act  essential  for  restoration  to  the  human  nature. 

t  Possibly  the  holy  water  in  D  17,  G  32,  is  a  relic  of  the 
water-bath. 

§  In  the  MS.  of  B  also  the  transformation  into  a  het  gad 
of  iron  comes  just  before  the  direction  to  dip  the  object  into 
a  stand  of  milk  ;  but  we  have  the  turning  into  a  mother. 


39.    TAM   LIK 


339 


to  be  seven  years,  the  fiend  of  hell  is  entitled 
to  take  his  teind,  tithe,  or  kane  from  the  peo- 
ple of  fairy-land  :  A  24,  B  23,  C  5,  D  15,  G  28, 
H  15.  The  fiend  prefers  those  that  are  fair 
and  fa  o  flesh,  according  to  A,  G  ;  ane  o  flesh 
and  blood,  D.  H  makes  the  queen  fear  for 
herself  ;  "  the  koors  they  hae  gane  round  about, 
and  I  fear  it  will  be  mysel."  H  is  not  discord- 
ant with  popular  tradition  elsewhere,  which 
attributes  to  fairies  the  practice  of  abstracting 
young  children  to  serve  as  substitutes  for 
themselves  in  this  tribute :  Scott's  Minstrelsy, 
II,  220,  1802.  D  15  says  "  the  last  here  goes 
to  hell,"  which  would  certainly  not  be  equita- 
ble, and  C  "  we  're  a'  dung  down  to  hell," 
where  "  all  "  must  be  meant  only  of  the  nat- 
uralized members  of  the  community.  Poor 
Alison  Pearson,  who  lost  her  life  in  1586  for 
believing  these  things,  testified  that  the  tribute 
was  annual.  Mr  William  Sympson,  who  had 
been  taken  away  by  the  fairies,  "  bidd  her  sign 
herself  that  she  be  not  taken  away,  for  the 
teind  of  them  are  tane  to  hell  everie  year :  " 
Scott,  as  above,  p.  208.  The  kindly  queen 
of  the  fairies  *  will  not  allow  Thomas  of  Er- 
celdoune  to  be  exposed  to  this  peril,  and  hur- 
ries him  back  to  earth  the  day  before  the 
fiend  comes  for  his  due.  Thomas  is  in  pe- 
culiar danger,  for  the  reason  given  in  A,  Gr,  R. 

To  mome  of  helle  pe  foulle  fende 

Amange  this  folke  will  feche  his  fee  ; 

And  J>ou  art  mekill  man  and  hende ; 
I  trowe  full  wele  he  wolde  chese  the. 


The  elf-queen,  A  42,  B  40,  would  have  taken 
out  Tam's  twa  gray  een,  had  she  known  he 
was  to  be  borrowed,  and  have  put  in  twa  een 
of  tree,  B  41,  D  34,  E  21,  H  14 ;  she  would 
have  taken  out  his  heart  of  flesh,  and  have 
put  in,  B,  D,  B,  a  heart  of  stane,  H  of  tree. 
The  taking  out  of  the  eyes  would  probably  be 
to  deprive  Tam  of  the  faculty  of  recognizing 
fairy  folk  thereafter.  Mortals  whose  eyes 
have  been  touched  with  fairies'  salve  can  see 
them  when  they  are  to  others  invisible,  and 
such  persons,  upon  distinguishing  and  saluting 
fairies,  have  often  had  not  simply  this  power 
but  their  ordinary  eyesight  taken  away :  see 
Cromek's  Remains  of  Nithsdale  and  Galloway 
Song,  p.  304,  Thiele,  Danmarks  Folkesagn, 
1843,  II,  202,  rv,  etc.  Grimm  has  given  in- 
stances of  witches,  Slavic,  German,  Norse  and 
Italian,  taking  out  the  heart  of  man  (which 
they  are  wont  to  devour),  and  replacing  it  in 
some  instances  with  straw,  wood,  or  something 
of  the  kind  ;  nor  do  the  Roman  witches  appear 
to  have  been  behind  later  ones  in  this  dealing : 
Deutsche  Mythologie,  904  f,  and  the  note  III, 
312. 

The  fairy  in  the  Lai  de  Lauval,  v.  547, 
rides  on  a  white  palfrey,  and  also  two  dam- 
sels, her  harbingers,  v.  471 ;  so  the  fairy  prin- 
cess in  the  English  Launfal,  Halliwell,  Fairy 
Mythology,  p.  30.  The  fairy  king  and  all  his 
knights  and  ladies  ride  on  white  steeds  in  King 
Orfeo,  Halliwell,  as  above,  p.  41.  The  queen 
of  Elfland  rides  a  milk-white  steed  in  Thomas 


naked  man  several  stanzas  earlier.  By  reading,  in  33',  I  '11 
turn,  and  puttins  33  after  34,  we  should  have  the  order  of 
events  which  we  find  in  A. 

That  Tam  Lin  should  go  into  water  or  milk  as  a  dove  or 
snake,  or  in  some  other  of  his  temporary  forms,  and  come 
out  a  man,  is  the  only  disposition  which  is  consistent  with  the 
order  of  the  world  to  which  he  belongs.  Mannhardt  gives 
ns  a  most  curious  and  interesting  insight  into  some  of  the 
laws  of  that  world  in  Wald-  n.  Feldknlte,  II,  64-70.  The 
wife  of  a  Cashmere  king,  in  a  story  there  cited  from  Benfey's 
Pantschatantra,  I,  254,  §  92,  is  delivered  of  a  serpent,  but  is 
reported  to  have  borne  a  son.  Another  king  offers  his 
daughter  in  marriage,  and  the  Cashmere  king,  to  keep  his 
secret,  accepts  the  proposal.  In  due  time  the  princess  claims 
her  bridegroom,  and  they  give  her  the  snake.  Though 
greatly  distressed,  she  accepts  her  lot,  and  takes  the  snake 
about  to  the  holy  places,  at  the  last  of  which  she  receives  a 
command  to  put  the  snake  into  the  water-tank.  As  soon  as 
this  is  done  the  snake  takes  the  form  of  a  man.  A  woman's 
giving  birth  to  a  snake  was  by  no  means  a  rare  thing  in 


Karst  in  the  seventeenth  century,  and  it  was  the  rule  in  one 
noble  family  that  all  the  offspring  should  be  in  serpent  form, 
or  at  least  have  a  serpent's  head  ;  bnt  a  bath  in  water  turned 
them  into  human  shape.  For  elves  and  water  nymphs  who 
have  entered  into  connections  with  men  in  the  form  of  women, 
bathing  in  water  is  equally  necessary  for  resuming  their 
previous  shape,  as  appears  from  an  ancient  version  of  the 
story  of  Melusina :  Gervasius,  ed.  Liebrecht,  p.  4  f,  and  Vin- 
centins  Bellovacensis,  Speculum  Natnrale,  2,127  (from  He- 
linandus),  cited  by  Liebrecht,  at  p.  66. 

A  lad  who  had  been  changed  into  an  ass  by  a  couple  of 
witches  recovers  his  shape  merely  by  jumping  into  water  and 
rolling  about  in  it  :  William  of  Malmesbury's  Kings  of 
England,  c.  10,  cited  by  Vincent  of  Beauvais,  Specnlnm 
Natnrale,  iii,  109 ;  Diintzer,  Liebrecht's  Dunlop,  p.  538.  Sim- 
ple illusions  of  magic,  such  as  clods  and  wisps  made  to 
appear  swine  to  our  eyes,  are  inevitably  dissolved  when  the 
unrealities  touch  water.    Liebrecht's  Gervasius,  p.  65. 

•  Cf. '  Allison  Gross.' 


340 


39.    TAM  LIN 


Rymer,  A,  C ;  in  B,  and  all  copies  of  Thomas 
of  Erceldoune,  her  palfrey  is  dapple  gray. 
Tam  Lin,  A  28,  B  27,  etc.,  is  distinguished 
from  all  the  rest  of  his  "  court "  by  being  thus 
mounted ;  all  the  other  horses  are  black  or 
brown. 

Tam  Lane  was  taken  by  the  fairies,  accord- 
ing to  G  26,  27,  while  sleeping  under  an  apple- 
tree.  In  Sir  Orfeo  (ed.  Zielke,  v.  68)  it  was 
the  queen's  sleeping  under  an  ympe-tree  that 
led  to  her  being  carried  off  by  the  fairy  king, 
and  the  ympe-tree  we  may  suppose  to  be  some 
kind  of  fruit  tree,  if  not  exclusiyely  the  apple. 
Thomas  of  Erceldoune  is  lying  under  a  semely 
[derne,  cumly]  tree,  when  he  sees  the  fairy 
queen.  The  derivation  of  that  poem  from 
Ogier  le  Danois  shows  that  this  must  have 
been  an  apple-tree.  Special  trees  are  consid- 
ered in  Greece  dangerous  to  lie  under  in  sum- 
mer and  at  noon,  as  exposing  one  to  be 
taken  by  the  nereids  or  fairies,  especially 
plane,  poplar,  fig,  nut,  and  St  John's  bread : 
Schmidt,  Volksleben  der  Neugriechen,  p.  119. 
The  elder  and  the  linden  are  favorites  of  the 
elves  in  Denmark. 

The  rencounter  at  the  beginning  between 
Tam  Lin  and  Janet  (in  the  wood,  D,  P,  G) 
is  repeated  between  Hind  Etin  [Young  Akin] 
and  Margaret  in  '  Hind  Etin,'  further  on. 
Some  Slavic  ballads  open  in  a  similar  way, 
but  there  is  nothing  noteworthy  in  that:  see 
p.  41.  "  First  they  did  call  me  Jack,"  etc., 
D  9,  is  a  commonplace  of  frequent  occur- 
rence :  see,  e.  g., '  The  Knight  and  Shepherd's 
Daughter.' 

Some  humorous  verses,  excellent  in  their 
way,  about  one  Tam  o  Lin  are  very  well 
known :  as  Tam  o  the  Linn,  Chambers,  Scot- 
tish Songs,  p.  455,  Popular  Rhymes  of  Scot- 
land, p.  33,  ed.  1870 ;  Sharpe's  Ballads,  new 
ed.,  p.  44,  p.  187,  No  XVI ;  Tommy  Linn, 


North  Country  Chorister,  ed.  Ritson,  p.  3 ; 
Halliwell's  Popular  Rhymes  and  Nursery 
Tales,  p.  271,  ed.  1849  ;  Thomas  o  Linn,  Kin- 
loch  MSS,  III,  45,  V,  81;  Tam  o  Lin,  Camp- 
bell MSS.,  IL  107.  (Miss  Joanna  Baillie  tried 
her  hand  at  an  imitation,  but  the  jocosity  of 
the  real  thing  is  not  feminine.)  A  fool  sings 
this  stanza  from  such  a  song  in  Wager's  com- 
edy, '  The  longer  thou  livest,  the  more  fool 
thou  art,'  put  at  about  1568 ;  see  Furnivall, 
Captain  Cox,  his  Ballads  and  Bopks,  p.  cxxvii : 

Tom  a  Lin  and  his  wife,  and  his  wiues  mother, 
They  went  ouer  a  bridge  all  three  together ; 
The  bridge  was  broken,  and  they  fell  in : 
'  The  deuil  go  with  all ! '  quoth  Tom  a  Lin. 

Mr  Halliwell-Phillips  (as  above)  says  that 
"  an  immense  variety  of  songs  and  catches  re- 
lating to  Tommy  Linn  are  known  throughout 
the  country."  Brian  o  Lynn  seems  to  be  pop- 
ular in  Ireland  :  Lover's  Legends  and  Stories 
of  Ireland,  p.  260  f.  There  is  no  connection 
between  the  song  and  the  ballad  beyond  the 
name  :  the  song  is  no  parody,  no  burlesque,  of 
the  ballad,  as  it  has  been  called. 

"  Carterhaugh  is  a  plain  at  the  confluence  of 
the  Ettrick  with  the  Yarrow,  scarcely  an  Eng- 
lish mile  above  the  town  of  Selkirk,  and  on 
this  plain  they  show  two  or  three  rings  on  the 
ground,  where,  they  say,  the  stands  of  milk 
and  water  stood,  and  upon  which  grass  never 
grows."     Glenriddell  MS. 

Translated,  after  Scott,  by  Schubart,  p.  189, 
and  Biisc'hing's  Wochentliche  Nachrichten,  I, 
247  ;  by  Arndt,  Blutenlese,  p.  212  ;  after  Ay- 
toun,  I,  7,  by  Rosa  Warrens,  Schottische 
Volkslieder,  No  8 ;  by  Knortz,  Schottische 
Balladen,  No  17,  apparently  after  Aytoun  and 
Allingham.  The  Danish  '  Nattergalen  '  is 
translated  by  Prior,  III,  118,  No  116. 


Johnson's  Museum,  p.  423,  No  4U.    Communicated  by 
Bobert  Burns. 


101  FORBID  you,  maidens  a', 

That  wear  gowd  on  your  hair, 


To  come  or  gae  by  Carterhaugh, 
For  young  Tam  Lin  is  there. 

2  There  's  nane  that  gaes  by  Carterhaugh 
But  they  leave  him  a  wad, 
Either  their  rings,  or  green  mantles, 
Or  else  their  maidenliead. 


39.    TAM  LIN 


341 


3  Janet  has  kilted  her  green  kirtle 

A  little  aboon  her  knee, 
And  she  has  broded  her  yellow  hair 

A  little  aboon  her  bree, 
And  she  's  awa  to  Carterhaugh, 

As  fast  as  she  can  hie. 

4  When  she  came  to  Carterhaugh 

Tam  Lin  was  at  the  well, 
And  there  she  fand  his  steed  standing. 
But  away  was  himsel. 

6  She  had  na  pu'd  a  double  rose, 
A  rose  but  only  twa, 
Till  up  then  started  young  Tam  Lin, 
Says,  Lady,  thou 's  pu  nae  mae. 

6  Why  pu's  thou  the  rose,  Janet, 

And  why  breaks  thou  the  wand  ? 
Or  why  comes  thou  to  Carterhaugh 
Withoutten  my  command  ? 

7  '  Carterhaugh,  it  is  my  ain. 

My  daddie  gave  it  me  ; 
I  '11  come  and  gang  by  Carterhaugh, 
And  ask  nae  leave  at  thee.' 


8  Janet  has  kilted  her  green  kirtle 

A  little  aboon  her  knee. 
And  she  has  snooded  her  yellow  hair 

A  little  aboon  her  bree. 
And  she  is  to  her  father's  ha, 

As  fast  as  she  can  hie. 

9  Four  and  twenty  ladies  fair 

Were  playing  at  the  ba, 
And  out  then  cam  the  fair  Janet, 
Ance  the  flower  amang  them  a'. 

10  Four  and  twenty  ladies  fair 

Were  playing  at  the  chess. 
And  out  then  cam  the  fair  Janet, 
As  green  as  onie  glass. 

11  Out  then  spak  an  auld  grey  knight, 

Lay  oer  the  castle  wa. 
And  says,  Alas,  fair  Janet,  for  thee 
But  we  'U  be  blamed  a'. 

12  '  Haud  your  tongue,  ye  auld  fac'd  knight. 

Some  ill  death  may  ye  die  ! 


Father  my  bairn  on  whom  I  will, 
I  'U  father  nane  on  thee.' 

13  Out  then  spak  her  father  dear. 

And  he  spak  meek  and  mild ; 
'  And  ever  alas,  sweet  Janet,'  he  says, 
'  I  think  thou  gaes  wi  child.' 

14  '  If  that  I  gae  wi  child,  father, 

Mysel  maun  bear  the  blame  ; 
There  's  neer  a  laird  about  your  ha 
Shall  get  the  bairn's  name. 

15  '  If  my  love  were  an  earthly  knight, 

As  he  's  an  elfin  grey, 
I  wad  na  gie  my  ain  true-love 
For  nae  lord  that  ye  hae. 

16  '  The  steed  that  my  true-love  rides  on 

Is  lighter  than  the  wind ; 
Wi  siller  he  is  shod  before, 
Wi  burning  gowd  behind.' 

17  Janet  has  kilted  her  green  kirtle 

A  little  aboon  her  knee. 
And  she  has  snooded  her  yellow  hair 

A  little  aboon  her  bree. 
And  she  's  awa  to  Carterhaugh, 

As  fast  as  she  can  hie. 

18  When  she  cam  to  Carterhaugh, 

Tam  Lin  was  at  the  well. 
And  there  she  fand  his  steed  standing, 
But  away  was  himsel. 

19  She  had  na  pu'd  a  double  rose, 

A  rose  but  only  twa, 
Till  up  then  started  young  Tam  Lin, 
Says  Lady,  thou  pu's  nae  mae. 

20  Why  pu's  thou  the  rose,  Janet, 

Amang  the  groves  sae  green, 
And  a'  to  kill  the  bonie  babe 
That  we  gat  us  between  ? 

21  '  0  tell  me,  tell  me,  Tam  Lin,'  she  says, 

'  For 's  sake  that  died  on  tree. 
If  eer  ye  was  in  holy  chapel. 
Or  Christendom  did  see  ?  ' 

22  '  Roxbrugh  he  was  my  grandfather, 

Took  me  with  him  to  bide. 


342 


39.    TAM  LIN 


And  ance  it  fell  upon  a  day 
That  wae  did  me  betide. 

23  '  And  ance  it  fell  upon  a  day, 

A  cauld  day  and  a  snell, 
"When  we  were  frae  the  hunting  come, 

That  frae  my  horse  I  fell ; 
The  Queen  o  Fairies  she  caught  me, 

In  yon  green  hUl  to  dwell. 

24  '  And  pleasant  is  the  fairy  land, 

But,  an  eerie  tale  to  tell, 
Ay  at  the  end  of  seven  years 

We  pay  a  tiend  to  hell ; 
I  am  sae  fair  and  fu  o  flesh, 

I  'm  feard  it  be  mysel. 

25  '  But  the  night  is  Halloween,  lady, 

The  morn  is  HaUowday ; 
Then  win  me,  win  me,  an  ye  will. 
For  weel  I  wat  ye  may. 

26  '  Just  at  the  mirk  and  midnight  hour 

The  fairy  folk  will  ride, 
And  they  that  wad  their  true-love  win, 
At  Miles  Cross  they  maun  bide.' 

27  '  But  how  shall  I  thee  ken,  Tam  Lin, 

Or  how  my  true-love  know, 
Araang  sae  mony  unco  knights 
The  like  I  never  saw  ?  ' 

28  '  O  first  let  pass  the  black,  lady, 

And  syne  let  pass  the  brown, 
But  quickly  run  to  the  milk-white  steed, 
Pu  ye  his  rider  down. 

29  '  For  1 11  ride  on  the  milk-white  steed, 

And  ay  nearest  the  town  ; 
Because  I  was  an  eartlily  knight 
They  gie  me  that  renown. 

30  '  My  right  hand  will  be  glovd,  lady, 

My  left  hand  wUl  be  bare, 
Cockt  up  shall  my  bonnet  be, 

And  kaimd  down  shall  my  hair, 
And  thae  's  the  takens  I  gie  thee, 

Nae  doubt  I  wUl  be  there. 

31  '  They  '11  turn  me  in  your  arms,  lady, 

Into  an  esk  and  adder ; 
But  hold  me  fast,  and  fear  me  not, 
I  am  your  bairn's  father. 


32  '  They  '11  turn  me  to  a  bear  sae  grim. 

And  then  a  lion  bold ; 
But  hold  me  fast,  and  fear  me  not. 
As  ye  shall  love  your  chUd. 

33  '  Again  they  '11  turn  me  in  your  arms 

To  a  red  het  gaud  of  aim ; 
But  hold  me  fast,  and  fear  me  not, 
I  'U  do  to  you  nae  harm. 

34  '  And  last  they  '11  turn  me  in  your  arms 

Into  the  burning  gleed  ; 
Then  throw  me  into  well  water, 

0  throw  me  in  wi  speed. 

35  '  And  then  I  '11  be  your  ain  true-love, 

1  '11  turn  a  naked  knight ; 

Then  cover  me  wi  your  green  mantle, 
And  cover  me  out  o  sight.' 

36  Gloomy,  gloomy  was  the  night. 

And  eerie  was  the  way, 
As  fair  Jenny  in  her  green  mantle 
To  MUes  Cross  she  did  gae. 

37  About  the  middle  o  the  night 

She  heard  the  bridles  ring  ; 
This  lady  was  as  glad  at  that 
As  any  earthly  thing. 

38  First  she  let  the  black  pass  by, 

And  syne  she  let  the  brown ; 
But  quickly  she  ran  to  the  milk-white  steed, 
And  pu'd  the  rider  down. 

39  Sae  weel  she  minded  whae  he  did  say, 

And  young  Tam  Lin  did  win  ; 
Syne  coverd  him  wi  her  green  mantle, 
As  blythe  's  a  bird  in  spring. 

40  Out  then  spak  the  Queen  o  Fairies, 

Out  of  a  bush  o  broom  : 
'  Them  that  has  gotten  young  Tam  Lin 
Has  gotten  a  stately  groom.' 

41  Out  then  spak  the  Queen  o  Fairies, 

And  an  angry  woman  was  she  : 

'  Shame  betide  her  ill-far'd  face. 

And  an  ill  death  may  she  die. 
For  she  's  taen  awa  the  boniest  knight 

In  a'  my  companie. 


39     TAM   LIN 


343 


42  '  But  bad  I  kend,  Tam  Lin,'  she 
'  What  now  this  night  I  see, 


I  wad  hae  taen  out  thy  twa  grey  een, 
And  put  in  twa  een  o  tree.' 


Glenriddell's  MSS,  vol.  xi,  No  17. 

1  I  FOKBtD  ye,  maidens  a'. 

That  wear  goud  on  your  gear, 

To  come  and  gae  by  Carterbaugh, 

For  young  Tom  Line  is  there. 

2  There  's  nane  that  gaes  by  Carterbaugh 

But  they  leave  him  a  wad. 
Either  their  things  or  green  mantles, 
Or  else  their  maidenhead. 

3-  But  Janet  has  kilted  her  green  kirtle 

A  little  above  her  knee. 
And  she  has  broded  her  yellow  hair 

A  little  above  her  bree. 
And  she  has  gaen  for  Carterbaugh, 

As  fast  as  she  can  hie. 

4  When  she  came  to  Carterbaugh 
Tom'  Line  was  at  the  well. 
And  there  she  fand  his  steed  standing, 
But  away  was  himseU. 

6  She  badna  pu'd  a  double  rose, 
A  rose  but  only  twae, 
TUl  up  then  started  young  Tom  Line, 
Says,  Lady,  thou  's  pu  nae  mae. 

6  Why  pu's  thou  the  rose,  Janet  ? 

Why  breaks  thou  the  wand  ? 
Why  comest  thou  to  Carterbaugh 
Withouthen  my  command  ? 

7  '  Fair  Carterbaugh  it  is  my  ain. 

My  daddy  gave  it  me  ; 
I  '11  come  and  gae  by  Carterliaugb, 
And  ask  nae  leave  at  thee.' 


9  Four  and  twenty  ladies  fair 
Were  playing  at  the  ba. 
And  out  then  came  fair  Janet, 
The  flowr  amang  them  a'. 

10  Four  and  twenty  ladies  fair 

Were  playing  at  the  chess. 
Out  then  came  fair  Janet, 
As  green  as  ony  glass. 

11  Out  spak  an  auld  grey-headed  knight, 

Lay  owre  the  castle  wa, 
And  says,  Alas,  fair  Janet, 
For  thee  we  '11  be  blam'd  a'. 

12  *  Had  your  tongue,  you  auld  grey  knight, 

Some  iU  dead  may  ye  die  ! 
Father  my  bairn  on  whom  I  will, 
I  '11  father  nane  on  thee.' 

13  Out  then  spak  her  father  dear. 

He  spak  baith  thick  and  milde  ; 
'  And  ever  alas,  sweet  Janet,'  he  says, 
'  I  think  ye  gae  wi  childe.' 

14  *  If  that  I  gae  wi  cluld,  father, 

Mysell  bears  a'  the  blame  ; 
There  's  not  a  laird  about  your  ha 
Shall  get  the  baimie's  name. 

15  '  If  my  lord  were  an  earthly  knight. 

As  he  's  an  elfish  grey, 
I  wad  na  gie  my  ain  true-love 
For  nae  lord  that  ye  hae.' 

16  Janet  has  kilted  her  green  kirtle 

A  little  aboon  her  knee. 
And  she  has  snooded  her  yellow  hair 

A  little  aboon  her  bree. 
And  she  's  away  to  Carterbaugh, 

As  fast  as  she  can  hie. 


8  Janet  has  kilted  her  green  kirtle 

A  little  aboon  her  knee. 
And  she  has  snooded  her  yellow  hair 

A  little  aboon  her  bree. 
And  she  is  on  to  her  father's  ha. 

As  fast  as  she  can  hie. 


17  When  she  came  to  Carterbaugh, 

Tom  Line  was  at  the  well. 
And  there  she  faund  his  steed  standing. 
But  away  was  himseU. 

18  She  hadna  pu'd  a  double  rose, 

A  rose  but  only  twae. 


344 


39.    TAM   LIN 


Till  up  then  started  young  Tom  Line, 
Says,  Lady,  thou  's  pu  na  mae. 

19  Why  pu's  thou  the  rose,  Janet, 

'         Out  owr  yon  groves  sae  green. 
And  a'  to  kUl  your  bonny  babe. 
That  we  gat  us  between  ? 

20  '  O  teU  me,  tell  me,  Tom,'  she  says, 

'  For 's  sake  who  died  on  tree. 
If  eer  ye  were  in  holy  chapel. 
Or  Christendom  did  see.' 

21  '  Roxburgh  he  was  my  grandfather. 

Took  me  with  him  to  bide. 
And  ance  it  fell  upon  a  day 
That  wae  did  me  betide. 

22  '  Ance  it  fell  upon  a  day, 

A  cauld  day  and  a  snell. 
When  we  were  frae  the  hunting  come. 
That  from  my  horse  I  fell. 

23  '  The  Queen  of  Fairies  she  came  by. 

Took  me  wi  her  to  dwell, 
Evn  where  she  has  a  pleasant  land 

For  those  that  in  it  dwell, 
But  at  the  end  o  seven  years, 

They  pay  their  teind  to  hell. 

24  '  The  night  it  is  gude  Halloween, 

The  fairie  folk  do  ride. 
And  they  that  wad  their  true-love  wui. 
At  MUes  Cross  they  maun  bide.' 

25  '  But  how  shall  I  thee  ken,  Thomas, 

Or  how  shall  I  thee  knaw, 
Amang  a  pack  o  uncouth  knights 
The  like  I  never  saw  ? ' 

26  '  The  first  company  that  passes  by. 

Say  na,  and  let  them  gae  ; 
The  next  company  that  passes  by. 

Say  na,  and  do  right  sae  ; 
The  third  company  that  passes  by. 

Then  I  '11  be  ane  o  thae. 

27  '  Some  ride  upon  a  black,  lady. 

And  some  ride  on  a  brown, 
But  I  ride  on  a  milk-white  steed. 

And  ay  nearest  the  town  : 
Because  I  was  an  earthly  knight 

They  gae  me  that  renown. 


28  '  My  right  hand  will  be  glovd,  lady, 

My  left  hand  wiU  be  bare, 
And  thae 's  the  tokens  I  gie  thee, 
Nae  doubt  I  will  be  there. 

29  '  Then  hie  thee  to  the  milk-white  steed, 

And  pu  me  quickly  down, 
Cast  thy  green  kirtle  owr  me. 
And  keep  me  frae  the  rain. 

30  '  They  '11  turn  me  in  thy  arms,  lady, 

An  adder  and  a  snake ; 
But  hold  me  fast,  let  me  na  gae. 
To  be  your  warldly  mate. 

31  '  They  '11  turn  me  in  your  arms,  lady, 

A  grey  greyhound  to  girn  ; 
But  hald  me  fast,  let  me  na  gae. 
The  father  o  your  bairn. 

32  '  They  '11  turn  me  in  your  arms,  lady, 

A  red  het  gad  o  iron  ; 
Then  hand  me  fast,  and  be  na  feard, 
I  '11  do  to  you  nae  harm. 

33  '  They  '11  turn  me  in  your  arms,  lady, 

A  mother-naked  man ; 
Cast  your  green  kirtle  owr  me, 
To  keep  me  frae  the  rain. 

34  '  First  dip  me  in  a  stand  o  milk. 

And  then  a  stand  o  water  ; 
Hand  me  fast,  let  me  na  gae, 
I  '11  be  your  bairnie's  father.' 

35  Janet  has  kilted  her  green  kirtle 

A  little  aboon  her  knee. 
And  she  has  snooded  her  yellow  hair 

A  little  aboon  her  bree. 
And  she  is  on  to  MUes  Cross, 

As  fast  as  she  can  hie. 

36  The  first  company  that  passd  by. 

She  said  na,  and  let  them  gae  ; 
The  next  company  that  passed  by. 

She  said  na,  and  did  right  sae  ; 
The  third  company  that  passed  by. 

Then  he  was  ane  o  thae. 

37  She  hied  her  to  the  milk-white  steed. 

And  pu'd  him  quickly  down  ; 
She  cast  her  green  kirtle  owr  him. 
To  keep  him  frae  the  rain  ; 


39.    TAM  LIN 


345 


Then  she  did  all  was  orderd  her, 
And  sae  recoverd  him. 

38  Then  out  then  spak  the  Queen  o  Fairies, 

Out  o  a  bush  o  broom  : 
*  They  that  hae  gotten  young  Tom  Line 
Hae  got  a  stately  g^oom.' 

39  Out  than  spak  the  Queen  o  Fairies, 

Out  o  a  bush  of  rye : 
'  Them  that  has  gotten  young  Tom  Line 
Has  the  best  knight  in  my  company. 


Herd,  The  Ancient  and  Modem  Scots  Songs,  1769,  p.  300. 

***** 

1  She  's  prickt  hersell  and  prind  hersell, 

By  the  ae  light  o  the  moon, 
And  she  's  awa  to  Kertonha, 
As  fast  as  she  can  gang. 

2  '  What  gars  ye  pu  the  rose,  Jennet  ? 

What  gars  ye  break  the  tree  ? 
What  gars  you  gang  to  Kertonha 
Without  the  leave  of  me  ?  ' 

3  *  Yes,  I  will  pu  the  rose,  Thomas, 

And  I  will  break  the  tree  ; 
For  Kertonha  shoud  be  my  ain, 
Nor  ask  I  leave  of  thee.' 

4  '  Full  pleasant  is  the  fairy  land. 

And  happy  there  to  dwell ; 
I  am  a  fairy,  lyth  and  limb. 
Fair  maiden,  view  me  well. 

5  '  O  pleasant  is  the  fairy  land. 

How  happy  there  to  dwell ! 

But  ay  at  every  seven  years  end 

We  're  a'  dung  down  to  hell. 


40  '  Had  I  kend,  Thomas,'  she  says, 

'  A  lady  wad  hae  borrowd  thee, 
I  wad  hae  taen  out  thy  twa  grey  een, 
Put  in  twa  een  o  tree. 

41  '  Had  I  but  kend,  Thomas,'  she  says, 

'Before  I  came  frae  hame, 
I  had  taen  out  that  heart  o  flesh, 
Pat  in  a  heart  o  stane.' 


6  'The  mom  is  good  Halloween, 

And  our  court  a'  will  ride ; 

If  ony  maiden  wins  her  man, 

Then  she  may  be  his  biide. 

7  '  But  first  ye  '11  let  the  black  gae  by, 

And  then  ye '11  let  the  brown  ; 
Then  I  '11  ride  on  a  milk-white  steed, 
You  'U  pu  me  to  the  ground. 

8  '  And  first,  1 11  grow  into  your  arms 

An  esk  but  and  an  edder ; 

Had  me  fast,  let  me  not  gang, 

I  '11  be  your  bairn's  father. 

9  '  Next,  I  '11  grow  into  your  arms 

A  toad  but  and  an  eel ; 
Had  me  fast,  let  me  not  gang, 
K  you  do  love  me  leel. 

10  '  Last,  I  '11  grow  into  your  arms 
A  dove  but  and  a  swan ; 
Then,  maiden  fair,  you  'U  let  me  go, 
I  'U  be  a  perfect  man.' 


a.  Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  532,  a  North  Conntry  version. 
b.  Maidment's  New  Book  of  Old  Ballads,  1844,  p.  54,  from 
the  recitation  of  an  old  woman,  c.  Pitcaim's  MSS,  1817- 
25,  III,  p.  67  :  "  procared  by  David  Webster,  Bookseller, 
from  tradition." 


1  O  ALL  you  ladies  yovmg  and  gay, 
Who  are  so  sweet  and  fair, 


Do  not  go  into  Chaster's  wood, 
For  Tomlin  will  be  there. 

2  Fair  Margret  sat  in  her  bonny  bower, 
Sewing  her  silken  seam, 
And  wished  to  be  in  Chaster's  wood, 
Among  the  leaves  so  green. 


346 


39.    TAM  LIN 


3  She  let  her  seam  fall  to  her  foot, 

The  needle  to  her  toe, 
And  she  has  gone  to  Cliaster's  wood, 
As  fast  as  she  could  go. 

4  Wlien  she  began  to  pull  the  flowers, 

She  puUd  both  red  and  green  ; 
Then  by  did  come,  and  by  did  go. 
Said,  Fair  maid,  let  aleene. 

5  '  0  why  pluck  you  the  flowers,  lady, 

Ch-  why  climb  you  the  tree  ? 
Or  why  come  ye  to  Chaster's  wood 
Without  the  leave  of  me  ?  ' 

6  '  0  I  will  puU  the  flowers,'  she  said, 

'  Or  I  wUl  break  the  tree. 
For  Chaster's  wood  it  is  my  own, 
I  '11  no  ask  leave  at  thee.' 

7  He  took  her  by  the  milk-white  hand. 

And  by  the  grass  green  sleeve. 
And  laid  her  low  down  on  the  flowers. 
At  her  he  asked  no  leave. 

8  The  lady  blushed,  and  sourly  frowned, 

And  she  did  think  great  shame  ; 
Says,  '  If  you  are  a  gentleman. 
You  will  tell  me  your  name.' 

9  '  First  they  did  call  me  Jack,'  he  said, 

'  And  then  they  called  me  John, 
But  since  I  lived  in  the  fairy  court 
Tomlin  has  always  been  my  name. 

10  '  So  do  not  pluck  that  flower,  lady, 

That  has  these  pimples  gray  ; 
They  would  destroy  the  bonny  babe 
That  we  've  got  in  our  i)lay.' 

11  '  0  teU  me,  Tomlin,'  she  said, 

'  And  tell  it  to  me  soon. 
Was  you  ever  at  good  church-door, 
Or  got  you  christendoom  ?  ' 

12  '01  have  been  at  good  church-door, 

And  a£E  her  yetts  within  ; 
I  was  the  Laird  of  Foulis's  son, 
The  heir  of  all  this  land. 

13  '  But  it  fell  once  upon  a  day, 

As  hunting  I  did  ride. 


As  I  rode  east  and  west  yon  hill 
There  woe  did  me  betide. 

14  '  0  drowsy,  drowsy  as  I  was  ! 

Dead  sleep  upon  me  fell ; 
The  Queen  of  Fairies  she  was  there. 
And  took  me  to  herseU. 

15  '  The  Elfins  is  a  pretty  place, 

In  which  I  love  to  dwell. 
But  yet  at  every  seven  years'  end 

The  last  here  goes  to  hell ;    - 
And  as  I  am  ane  o  flesh  and  blood, 

I  fear  the  next  be  myseU. 

16  '  The  morn  at  even  is  Halloween  ; 

Our  fairy  court  will  ride, 
Throw  England  and  Scotland  both. 

Throw  al  the  world  wide  ; 
And  if  ye  would  me  borrow. 

At  Rides  Cross  ye  may  bide. 

17  '  You  may  go  into  the  Miles  Moss, 

Between  twelve  hours  and  one  ; 
Take  holy  water  in  your  hand, 
And  cast  a  compass  round. 

18  '  The  first  court  that  comes  along. 

You  '11  let  them  all  pass  by ; 
The  next  court  that  comes  along, 
Salute  them  reverently. 

19  '  The  next  court  that  comes  along 

Is  clad  in  robes  of  green. 
And  it 's  the  head  court  of  them  all, 
For  in  it  rides  the  queen. 

20  '  And  I  upon  a  milk-white  steed, 

With  a  gold  star  in  my  crown ; 
Because  I  am  an  earthly  man 

I  'm  next  to  the  queen  in  renown. 

21  '  Then  seize  upon  me  with  a  spring. 

Then  to  the  ground  I  '11  fa. 
And  then  you  '11  hear  a  rueful  cry 
That  Tomlin  is  awa. 

22  '  Then  I  'U  grow  in  your  arms  two 

Like  to  a  savage  wild  ; 
But  hold  me  fast,  let  me  not  go, 
I  'm  fatlier  of  your  child. 


39.    TAM   LIK 


347 


23  '  1 11  grow  into  your  arms  two 

Like  an  adder  or  a  snake  ; 

But  hold  me  fast,  let  me  not  go, 

I  'U  be  your  earthly  maick. 

24  '  I  '11  grow  into  your  arms  two 

Like  iron  in  strong  fire  ; 
But  hold  me  fast,  let  me  not  go. 
Then  you  '11  have  your  desire.' 

25  She  rid  down  to  Miles  Cross, 

Between  twelve  hours  and  one. 
Took  holy  water  in  her  hand. 
And  cast  a  compass  round. 

26  The  first  court  that  came  along. 

She  let  them  all  pass  by ; 
The  next  court  that  came  along 
Saluted  reverently. 

27  The  next  court  that  came  along 

Were  clad  in  robes  of  green. 
When  Tomlin,  on  a  milk-white  steed. 
She  saw  ride  with  the  queen. 

28  She  seized  him  in  her  arms  two. 

He  to  the  ground  did  fa. 
And  then  she  heard  a  ruefull  cry 
'  Tomlin  is  now  awa.' 


29  He  grew  into  her  arms  two 

Like  to  a  savage  wild  ; 
She  held  him  fast,  let  him  not  go, 
The  father  of  her  child. 

30  He  grew  into  her  arms  two 

Like  an  adder  or  a  snake ; 
She  held  him  fast,  let  him  not  go, 
He  was  her  earthly  maick. 

31  He  grew  into  her  arms  two 

Like  iron  in  hot  fire  ; 
She  held  him  fast,  let  him  not  go, 
He  was  her  heart's  desire. 

32  Then  sounded  out  throw  elphin  court, 

With  a  loud  shout  and  a  cry, 
That  the  pretty  maid  of  Chaster's  wood 
That  day  had  caught  her  prey. 

33  '  0  stay,  Tomlin,'  cried  Elphin  Queen, 

'  Till  I  pay  you  your  fee  ; ' 
*  His  father  has  lands  and  rents  enough, 
He  wants  no  fee  from  thee.' 

34  '  0  had  I  known  at  early  mom 

Tomlin  would  from  me  gone, 
I  would  have  taken  out  his  heart  of  flesh 
Put  in  a  heart  of  stone.' 


E 

Motherwell's  Note-book,  p.  13. 

1  Lady  Mabgabet  is  over  gravel  green, 

And  over  gravel  grey. 
And  she  's  awa  to  Charteris  ha, 
Lang  lang  three  hour  or  day. 

2  She  hadna  pu'd  a  flower,  a  flower, 

A  flower  but  only  ane. 
Till  up  and  started  young  Tamlin, 
Says,  Lady,  let  alane. 

3  She  hadna  pu'd  a  flower,  a  flower, 

A  flower  but  only  twa. 
Till  up  and  started  young  Tamlene, 
Atween  her  and  the  wa. 

4  '  How  daur  you  pu  my  flower,  madam  ? 

How  daur  ye  break  my  tree  ? 
How  daur  ye  come  to  Charter's  ha, 
Without  the  leave  of  me  ? ' 


6  '  Weel  I  may  pu  the  rose,'  she  said, 
'  But  I  daurna  break  the  tree  ; 
And  Charter's  ha  is  my  father's. 
And  I  'm  his  heir  to  be.' 

6  '  If  Charteris  ha  be  thy  father's, 

I  was  ance  as  gude  mysell ; 
But  as  I  came  in  by  Lady  Birk, 
And  in  by  Lady  Well, 

7  '  Deep  and  drowsy  was  the  sleep 

On  my  poor  body  fell ; 
By  came  the  Queen  of  Faery, 
Made  me  with  her  to  dwell. 

8  '  But  the  morn  at  een  is  Halloween, 

Our  fairy  foks  a"  do  ride  ; 
And  she  that  will  her  true-love  win, 
At  Blackstock  she  must  bide. 

9  '  First  let  by  the  black,'  he  said, 

'  And  syne  let  by  the  brown  ; 


348 


39.    TAM  LIN 


But  when  you  see  the  milk-white  steed, 
You  '11  pull  his  rider  down. 

10  '  You  11  pull  him  into  thy  arms, 

Let  his  bricht  bridle  fa, 
And  he  '11  fa  low  into  your  arms 
Like  stone  in  castle's  wa. 

11  '  They  '11  first  shape  him  into  your  arms 

An  adder  or  a  snake  ; 
But  hold  him  fast,  let  him  not  go. 
He  'U  be  your  world's  make. 

12  '  They  '11  next  shape  him  into  yonr  arms 

Like  a  wood  black  dog  to  bite  ; 
Hold  him  fast,  let  him  not  go, 
For  he  'U  be  your  heart's  delight. 

13  '  They  '11  next  shape  [him]  into  your  arms 

Like  a  red-het  gaud  o  airn ; 
But  hold  him  fast,  let  him  not  go. 
He  's  the  father  o  your  bairn. 

14  '  They  '11  next  shape  him  into  your  arms 

Like  the  laidliest  worm  of  Ind  ; 
But  hold  him  fast,  let  him  not  go. 
And  cry  aye  "  Young  Tamlin." ' 


15  Lady  Margaret  first  let  by  the  black, 
And  syne  let  by  the  brown. 
But  when  she  saw  the  milk-white  steed 
She  puUed  the  rider  down. 


16  She  pulled  him  into  her  arms, 

Let  his  bright  bridle  fa'. 

And  he  fell  low  into  her  arms. 

Like  stone  in  castle's  wa. 

17  They  first  shaped  him  into  arms 

An  adder  or  a  snake  ; 
But  she  held  him  fast,  let  him  not  go. 
For  he  'd  be  her  warld's  make. 

18  They  next  shaped  him  into  her  arms 

Like  a  wood  black  dog  to  bite  ; 

But  she  held  him  fast,  let  him  not  go. 

For  he  'd  be  her  heart's  delight. 

19  They  next  shaped  him  into  her  arms 

Like  a  red-het  gaud  o  aim  ; 
But  she  held  him  fast,  let  him  not  go. 
He  'd  be  father  o  her  bairn. 

20  They  next  shaped  him  into  her  arms 

Like  the  laidliest  worm  of  Ind  ; 

But  she  held  him  fast,  let  him  not  go. 

And  cried  aye  '  Young  Tamlin.' 

21  The  Queen  of  Faery  turned  her  horse  about. 

Says,  Adieu  to  thee,  Tamlene! 
For  if  I  had  kent  what  I  ken  this  night, 

If  I  had  kent  it  yestreen, 
I  wad  hae  taen  out  thy  heart  o  flesh. 

And  put  in  a  heart  o  stane. 


Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  64,  from  the  recitation  of  widow 
McCormick,  February,  1825. 


3  She  's  taen  her  petticoat  by  the  band, 
Her  mantle  owre  her  arm. 
And  Lady  Margaret's  gane  hame  agen, 
As  fast  as  she  could  run. 


1  She  's  taen  her  petticoat  by  the  band, 

Her  mantle  owre. her  arm, 
And  she  's  awa  to  Chester  wood. 
As  fast  as  she  could  run. 

2  She  scarsely  pulled  a  rose,  a  rose. 

She  scarse  pulled  two  or  three, 
TUl  up  there  starts  Thomas 
On  the  Lady  Margaret's  knee. 


4  Up  starts  Lady  Margaret's  sister. 
An  angi-y  woman  was  she  : 
'  If  there  ever  was  a  woman  wi  child, 
Margaret,  you  are  wi  ! ' 

6  Up  starts  Lady  Margaret's  mother. 
An  angry  woman  was  she  : 
'  There  grows  ane  herb  in  yon  kirk-yard 
That  will  scathe  the  babe  away.' 


39.    TIM  LIK 


349 


6  She  took  her  petticoats  by  the  band, 

Her  mantle  owre  her  arm, 
And  she's  gane  to  yon  kirk-yard 
As  fast  as  she  could  run. 

7  She  scarcely  pulled  an  herb,  an  herb, 

She  scarse  pulled  two  or  three, 
Till  up  starts  there  Thomas 

Upon  this  Lady  Margret's'  knee. 

8  '  How  dare  ye  pull  a  rose  ?  '  he  says, 

'  How  dare  ye  break  the  tree  ? 
How  dare  ye  pull  this  herb,'  he  says, 
'  To  scathe  my  babe  away  ? 

9  '  This  night  is  Halloweve,'  he  said, 

'  Our  court  is  going  to  waste. 
And  them  that  loves  their  true-love  best 
At  Chester  bridge  they  '11  meet. 

10  '  First  let  pass  the  black,'  he  says, 

'  And  then  let  pass  the  brown. 
But  when  ye  meet  the  milk-white  steed. 
Pull  ye  the  rider  down. 

11  '  They  '11  turn  me  to  an  eagle,'  he  says, 

'  And  then  into  an  ass  ; 
Come,  hold  me  fast,  and  fear  me  not, 
The  man  that  you  love  best. 


12  '  They  "11  turn  me  to  a  flash  of  fire, 

And  then  to  a  naked  man ; 
Come,  wrap  you  your  mantle  me  about. 
And  then  you  '11  have  me  won.' 

13  She  took  her  petticoats  by  the  band. 

Her  mantle  owre  her  arm. 
And  she  's  awa  to  Chester  bridge, 
As  fast  as  she  could  run. 

14  And  first  she  did  let  pass  the  black, 

And  then  let  pass  the  brown. 
But  when  she  met  the  milk-white  steed. 
She  pulled  the  rider  down. 

15  They  turned  him  in  her  arms  an  eagle, 

And  then  into  an  ass  ; 
But  she  held  him  fast,  and  feared  him  not, 
The  man  that  she  loved  best. 

16  They  turned  him  into  a  flash  of  fire. 

And  then  into  a  naked  man  ; 
But  she  wrapped  her  mantle  him  about. 
And  then  she  had  him  won. 

17  '  O  wae  be  to  ye,  Lady  Margaret, 

And  an  ill  death  may  you  die. 
For  you  've  robbed  me  of  the  bravest  knight 
That  eer  rode  in  our  company.' 


Bnchan's  MSS,  I,  8 ;  Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  695. 

1  Take  warning,  a'  ye  ladies  fair. 

That  wear  gowd  on  your  hair. 
Come  never  unto  Charter's  woods. 
For  Tam-a-line  he  's  there. 

2  Even  about  that  knight's  middle 

O'  siller  bells  are  nine ; 
Nae  ane  comes  to  Charter  wood, 
And  a  maid  returns  again. 

3  Lady  Margaret  sits  in  her  bower  door. 

Serving  at  her  sUken  seam  ; 
And  she  langd  to  gang  to  Charter  woods. 
To  pou  the  roses  green. 

4  She  hadna  poud  a  rose,  a  rose. 

Nor  broken  a  branch  but  ane, 
Till  by  it  came  him  true  Tam-a-line, 
Says,  Ladye,  lat  alane. 


6  O  why  pou  ye  the  rose,  the  rose  ? 
Or  why  brake  ye  the  tree  ? 
Or  why  come  ye  to  Charter  woods. 
Without  leave  askd  of  me  ? 

6  '  I  will  pou  the  rose,  the  rose, 

And  I  will  brake  the  tree  ; 
Charter  woods  are  a'  my  ain, 
I  '11  ask  nae  leave  o  thee.' 

7  He  'a  taen  her  by  the  milk-white  hand, 

And  by  the  grass-gfreen  sleeve, 
And  laid  her  low  on  gude  green  wood, 
At  her  he  spierd  nae  leave. 

8  When  he  had  got  his  wills  of  her, 

His  wills  as  he  had  taen, 
He  's  taen  her  by  the  middle  sma. 
Set  her  to  feet  again, 

9  She  turnd  her  right  and  round  about. 

To  spier  her  true-love's  name, 


350 


39.    TAM  LIN 


But  naething  heard  she,  nor  naething  saw, 
As  a'  the  woods  grew  dim. 

10  Seven  days  she  tarried  there. 

Saw  neither  sun  nor  meen  ; 
At  length,  by  a  sma  glimmering  light. 
Came  thro  the  wood  her  lane. 

11  When  she  came  to  her  father's  court, 

As  fine  as  ony  queen  ; 
But  when  eight  months  were  past  and  gane, 
Got  on  the  gown  o'  green. 

12  Then  out  it  speaks  an  eldren  knight. 

As  he  stood  at  the  yett : 
'  Our  king's  daughter,  she  gaes  wi  halm, 
And  we  '11  get  a'  the  wyte.' 

13  '  O  had  your  tongue,  ye  eldren  man, 

And  bring  me  not  to  shame ; 

Although  that  I  do  gang  wi  bairn, 

Yese  naeways  get  the  blame. 

14  '  Were  my  love  but  an  earthly  man, 

As  he  's  an  elfin  knight, 
I  woudna  gie  my  ain  true  love 
For  a'  that 's  in  my  sight.' 

15  Then  out  it  speaks  her  brither  dear. 

He  meant  to  do  her  harm  : 
'  There  is  an  herb  in  Charter  wood 
WiU  twine  you  an  the  bairn.' 

16  She  's  taen  her  mantle  her  about. 

Her  coffer  by  the  band. 
And  she  is  on  to  Charter  wood. 
As  fast  as  she  coud  gang. 

17  She  hadna  poud  a  rose,  a  rose. 

Nor  braken  a  branch  but  ane. 
Till  by  it  came  him  Tam-a-Line, 
Says,  Ladye,  lat  alane. 

18  0  why  pou  ye  the  pile,  Margaret, 

The  pile  o  the  gravil  green. 
For  to  destroy  the  bonny  bairn 
That  we  got  us  between  ? 

19  0  why  pou  ye  the  pile,  Margaret, 

The  pile  o  the  gravil  gray. 

For  to  destroy  the  bonny  bairn 

That  we  got  in  our  play  ? 


20  For  if  it  be  a  knave-bairn, 

He  's  heir  o  a'  my  land  ; 
But  if  it  be  a  lass-bairn, 

In  red  gowd  she  shall  gang. 

21  '  If  my  luve  were  an  earthly  man, 

As  he  's  an  elfin  rae, 
I  coud  gang  bound,  love,  for  your  sake, 
A  twalmon'th  and  a  day.' 

22  *  Indeed  your  love  's  an  earthly,  man. 

The  same  as  well  as  thee, 
And  lang  I  've  haunted  Charter  woods, 
A'  for  your  fair  bodie.' 

23  '  0  tell  me,  tell  me,  Tam-a-Line, 

0  tell,  an  tell  me  true, 

Tell  me  this  night,  an  mak  nae  lie. 
What  pedigree  are  you  ? ' 

24  '  0  I  hae  been  at  gude  church-door, 

An  I  've  got  Christendom  ; 
I  'm  the  Earl  o'  Forbes'  eldest  son. 
An  heir  ower  a'  his  land. 

25  '  Wlien  I  was  young,  o  three  years  old, 

Muckle  was  made  o  me  ; 
My  step-mother  put  on  my  claithes. 
An  ill,  ill  sained  she  me. 

26  '  Ae  fatal  morning  I  went  out, 

Dreading  nae  injury, 
And  thinking  lang,  fell  soun  asleep, 
Beneath  an  apple  tree. 

27  '  Then  by  it  came  the  Elfin  Queen, 

And  laid  her  hand  on  me  ; 
And  from  that  time  since  ever  I  mind, 

1  've  been  in  her  companie. 

28  '  O  Elfin  it 's  a  bonny  place, 

In  it  fain  woud  I  dwell ; 
But  ay  at  ilka  seven  years'  end 

They  pay  a  tiend  to  hell. 
And  I  'm  sae  f  ou  o  flesh  an  blude, 

I  'm  sair  feard  for  myseU.' 

29  '  0  tell  me,  tell  me,  Tam-arLine, 

0  tell,  an  tell  me  true ; 
Tell  me  this  night,  an  mak  nae  lie, 
What  way  I  'U  borrow  you  ? ' 


39.    TAM  LIN 


351 


30  '  The  morn  is  Halloweven  night, 

The  elfin  court  will  ride, 
Through  England,  and  thro  a'  Scotland, 
And  through  the  world  wide. 

31  '  O  they  begin  at  sky  setting. 

Rides  a'  the  evening  tide  ; 
And  she  that  will  her  true-love  borrow, 
[At]  Miles-corse  will  him  bide. 

32  '  Ye  '11  do  you  down  to  MUes-corse, 

Between  twaU  hours  and  ane, 

And  full  your  hands  o  holy  water, 

And  cast  your  compass  roun. 

33  '  Then  the  first  an  court  that  comes  you  till 

Is  published  king  and  queen  ; 
The  next  an  court  that  comes  you  till, 
It  is  maidens  mony  ane. 

34  *  The  next  an  court  that  comes  you  till 

Is  footmen,  grooms  and  squires  ; 
The  next  an  court  that  comes  you  till 
Is  knights,  and  I  '11  be  there. 

35  '  I  Tam-a-Line,  on  milk-white  steed, 

A  goud  star  on  my  crown ; 
Because  I  was  an  earthly  knight, 
Got  that  for  a  renown. 

36  '  And  out  at  my  steed's  right  nostril. 

He  '11  breathe  a  fiery  flame  ; 
Ye  '11  loot  you  low,  and  sain  yoursel, 
And  ye  '11  be  busy  then. 

37  '  Ye  'U  take  my  horse  then  by  the  head, 

And  lat  the  bridal  fa  ; 
The  Queen  o'  Elfin  she  'U  cry  out, 
True  Tam-a-Line  's  awa. 

38  '  Then  I  'U  appear  in  your  arms 

Like  the  wolf  that  neer  woud  tame ; 
Ye  '11  had  me  fast,  lat  me  not  go, 
Case  we  neer  meet  again. 

39  '  Then  I  'U  appear  in  your  arms 

Like  the  fire  that  burns  sae  bauld  ; 
Ye  '11  had  me  fast,  lat  me  not  go, 
I  'U  be  as  iron  cauld. 

40  '  Then  I  '11  appear  in  your  arms 

Like  the  adder  an  the  snake  ; 


Ye  '11  had  me  fast,  lat  me  not  go, 
I  am  your  warld's  make. 

41  '  Then  I  'U  appear  in  your  arms 

Like  to  the  deer  sae  wild ; 
Ye  '11  had  me  fast,  lat  me  not  go. 
And  I  '11  father  your  child. 

42  '  And  I  'U  appear  in  your  arms 

Like  to  a  silken  string  ; 
Ye  '11  had  me  fast,  lat  me  not  go. 
Till  ye  see  the  fair  morning. 

43  '  And  I  'U  appear  in  your  arms 

Like  to  a  naked  man  ; 
Ye  '11  had  me  fast,  lat  me  not  go, 
And  wi  you  I  '11  gae  hame.' 

44  Then  she  has  done  her  to  MUes-corse, 

Between  twall  hours  an  ane. 
And  filled  her  hands  o  holy  water, 
And  kiest  her  compass  roun. 

45  The  first  an  court  that  came  her  till 

Was  published  king  and  queen  ; 
The  niest  an  court  that  came  her  tUl 
Was  maidens  mony  ane. 

46  The  niest  an  court  that  came  her  tUl 

Was  footmen,  grooms  and  squires  ; 
The  niest  an  court  that  came  her  tiU 
Was  knights,  and  he  was  there. 

47  True  Tam-arLine,  on  milk-white  steed, 

A  gowd  star  on  his  crown ; 
Because  he  was  an  earthly  man, 
Got  that  for  a  renown. 

48  And  out  at  the  steed's  right  nostril, 

He  breathd  a  fiery  flame  ; 
She  loots  her  low,  an  sains  hersell. 
And  she  was  busy  then. 

49  She  's  taen  the  horse  then  by  the  head, 

And  loot  the  bridle  fa  ; 
The  Queen  o  Elfin  she  cried  out, 
'  True  Tam-a-Line  's  awa.' 

50  '  Stay  still,  true  Tam-a-Line,'  she  says, 

'  Till  I  pay  you  your  fee  : ' 
'  His  father  wants  not  lands  nor  rents. 
He  '11  ask  nae  fee  frae  thee.' 


352 


39.    TAM  LIN 


61  '  Gin  I  had  kent  yestreen,  yestreen, 
What  I  ken  weel  the  day, 
I  shoud  taen  your  fu  faiise  heart, 
Gien  you  a  heart  o  clay.' 

52  Then  he  appeared  in  her  arms 

Like  the  wolf  that  neer  woud  tame  ; 
She  held  him  fast,  let  him  not  go, 
Case  they  neer  meet  again. 

53  Then  he  appeared  in  her  arms 

Like  the  fire  burning  bauld  ; 
She  held  him  fast,  let  liim  not  go. 
He  was  as  iron  cauld. 

54  And  he  appeared  in  her  arms 

Like  the  adder  an  the  snake ; 
She  held  him  fast,  let  him  not  go, 
He  was  her  warld's  make. 

55  And  he  appeared  in  her  arms 

Like  to  the  deer  sae  wild ; 


She  held  him  fast,  let  him  not  go, 
He  's  father  o  her  child. 

56  And  he  appeared  in  her  arms 
Like  to  a  sUken  string  ; 
She  held  him  fast,  let  him  not  go, 
TiU  she  saw  fair  morning. 

67  And  he  appeared  in  her  arms 

Like  to  a  naked  man  ; 
She  held  him  fast,  let  him  not  go, 
And  wi  her  he  's  gane  hame. 

68  These  news  hae  reachd  thro  a'  Scotland, 

And  far  ayont  the  Tay, 
That  Lady  Margaret,  our  king's  daughter. 
That  night  had  gaind  her  prey. 

59  She  borrowed  her  love  at  mirk  midnight. 
Bare  her  young  son  ere  day. 
And  though  ye  'd  search  the  warld  wide, 
Ye  'U  nae  find  sic  a  may. 


Campbell  MSS,  II,  129. 

1  I  FORBID  ye,  maidens  a'. 

That  wears  gowd  in  your  hair, 

To  come  or  gang  by  Carterhaugh, 

For  young  Tam  Lane  is  there. 

2  I  forbid  ye,  maidens  a'. 

That  wears  gowd  in  your  green. 
To  come  or  gang  by  Carterhaugh, 
For  fear  of  young  Tam  Lane. 

3  '  Go  saddle  for  me  the  black,'  says  Janet, 

'  Go  saddle  for  me  the  brown. 
And  I  '11  away  to  Carterhaugh, 
And  flower  myseU  the  gown. 

,  4  '  Go  saddle  for  me  the  brown,'  says  Janet, 
'  Go  saddle  for  me  the  black. 
And  I  'U  away  to  Carterhaugh, 
And  flower  mysel  a  hat' 


Till  up  there  startit  young  Tam  Lane, 
Just  at  bird  Janet's  knee. 

6  '  Why  pullst  thou  the  herb,  Janet, 

And  why  breaks  thou  the  tree  ? 
Why  put  you  back  the  bonny  babe 
That 's  between  you  and  me  ? ' 

7  'If  my  child  was  to  an  earthly  man. 

As  it  is  to  a  wild  buck  rae, 
I  would  wake  him  the  length  of  the  winter's 
night. 
And  the  lea  lang  simmer's  day.' 

8  '  The  night  is  Halloween,  Janet, 

When  our  gude  neighbours  will  ride, 
And  them  that  would  their  true-love  won 
At  Blackning  Cross  maun  bide. 

9  '  Many  will  the  black  ride  by, 

And  many  will  the  brown. 
But  I  ride  on  a  milk-white  steed, 

And  ride  nearest  the  town  : 
Because  I  was  a  christened  knight 

They  gie  me  that  renown. 


5  She  had  not  pulld  a  flowr,  a  flowr, 
A  flower  but  only  three, 


10  '  Many  will  the  black  ride  by, 
But  far  mae  will  the  brown ; 


39.    TAM  LIN 


353 


But  when  ye  see  the  milk-white  stead, 
Grip  fast  and  pull  me  down. 

11  •  Take  me  in  yer  arms,  Janet, 

An  ask,  an  adder  lang  ; 
The  grip  ye  get  ye  maun  haud  fast, 
I  'U  be  father  to  your  bairn. 

12  '  Take  me  in  your  arms,  Janet, 

An  adder  and  a  snake  ; 
The  grip  ye  get  ye  maun  haud  fast, 
I  'U  be  your  warld's  make.' 


13  Up  bespak  the  Queen  of  Fairies, 

She  spak  baith  loud  and  high  : 
'  Had  I  kend  the  day  at  noon 

Tam  Lane  had  been  won  from  me, 

14  '  I  wad  hae  taen  out  his  heart  o  flesh. 

Put  in  a  heart  o  tree, 
That  a'  the  maids  o  Middle  Middle  Mist 
Should  neer  hae  taen  Tam  Lane  frae  me.' 

15  Up  bespack  the  Queen  of  Fairies, 

And  she  spak  wi  a  loud  yeU : 
'  Aye  at  every  seven  year's  end 

We  pay  the  kane  to  heU, 
And  the  koors  they  hae  gane  round  about. 

And  I  fear  it  wiU  be  mysel.' 


a.  Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish  Border,  II,  337,  ed.  1833. 
b.  II,  228,  ed.  1802. 

1  '  O  I  FORBID  ye,  maidens  a', 

That  wear  gowd  on  your  hair, 
To  come  or  gae  by  Carterbaugh, 
For  young  Tamlane  is  there. 

2  '  There  's  nane  that  gaes  by  Carterhaugh 

But  maun  leave  him  a  wad, 
Either  gowd  rings,  or  green  mantles, 
Or  elee  their  maidenheid. 

3  '  Now  gowd  rings  ye  may  buy,  maidens, 

Green  mantles  ye  may  spin, 
But,  gin  ye  lose  your  maidenlieid. 
Ye  '11  neer  get  that  agen.' 

4  But  up  then  spak  her,  fair  Janet, 

The  fairest  o  a'  her  kin  : 
'  I  'U  cum  and  gang  to  Carterhaugh, 
And  ask  nae  leave  o  him.' 


7  She  hadna  pu'd  a  red  red  rose, 

A  rose  but  barely  three. 
Till  up  and  starts  a  wee  wee  man. 
At  lady  Janet's  knee. 

8  Says,  'Why  pu  ye  the  rose,  Janet  ? 

What  gars  ye  break  the  tree  ? 
Or  why  come  ye  to  Carterhaugh, 
Withouten  leave  o  me  ? 

9  Says,  Carterhaugh  it  is  mine  ain. 

My  daddie  gave  it  me  ; 
I  '11  come  and  gang  to  Carterhaugh, 
And  ask  nae  leave  o  thee. 

10  He  's  taen  her  by  the  mUk-white  hand. 

Among  the  leaves  sae  green. 
And  what  they  did  I  cannot  tell. 
The  g^een  leaves  were  between. 

11  He  's  taen  her  by  the  mUk-white  hand, 

Among  the  roses  red, 
And  what  they  did  I  cannot  say, 
She  neer  retumd  a  maid. 


5  Janet  has  kilted  her  green  kirtle 
A  little  abune  her  knee. 
And  she  has  braided  her  yellow  hair 
A  little  abune  her  bree. 


12  When  she  cam  to  her  father's  ha. 
She  looked  pale  and  wan ; 
They  thought  she  'd  dreed  some  sair  sickness, 
Or  been  with  some  leman. 


6  And  when  she  came  to  Carterhaugh, 

She  gaed  beside  the  well, 

And  there  she  fand  his  steed  standing, 

But  away  was  himseU. 
45 


13  She  didna  comb  her  yellow  hair 
Nor  make  meikle  o  her  head, 
And  ilka  thing  that  lady  took 
Was  like  to  be  her  deid. 


364 


39.    TAM  LIN 


14  It 's  four  and  twenty  ladies  fair 

Were  playing  at  the  ba  ; 
Janet,  the  wightest  of  them  anes, 
Was  faintest  o  them  a'. 

15  Four  and  twenty  ladies  fair 

Were  playing  at  the  chess  ; 
And  out  there  came  the  fair  Janet, 
As  green  as  any  grass. 

16  Out  and  spak  an  auld  grey-headed  knight, 

Lay  oer  the  castle  wa  : 
'  And  ever,  alas  1  for  thee,  Janet, 
But  we  '11  be  blamed  a' ! ' 

17  '  Now  haud  your  tongue,  ye  auld  grey  knight, 

And  an  ill  deid  may  ye  die  I 
Father  my  bairn  on  whom  I  will, 
I  '11  father  nane  on  thee.' 

18  Out  then  spak  her  father  dear. 

And  he  epak  meik  and  mild  : 
'  And  ever,  alas  !  my  sweet  Janet, 
I  fear  ye  gae  with  child.' 

19  '  And  if  I  be  with  child,  father, 

Mysell  maun  bear  the  blame  ; 
There  's  neer  a  knight  about  your  ha 
Shall  hae  the  bairnie's  name. 

20  '  And  if  I  be  with  child,  father, 

'T  will  prove  a  wondrous  birth, 
For  weel  I  swear  I  'm  not  wi  bairn 
To  any  man  on  earth. 

21  '  If  my  love  were  an  earthly  knight, 

As  he  's  an  elfin  grey, 
I  wadna  gie  my  ain  true  love 
For  nae  lord  that  ye  hae.' 

22  She  prinkd  hersell  and  prinnd  hersell. 

By  the  ae  light  of  the  moon, 
And  she  's  away  to  Carterhaugh, 
To  speak  wi  young  Tamlane. 


When  up  and  started  young  Tamlane, 
Says,  Lady,  thou  pu's  nae  mae. 

25  Why  pu  ye  the  rose,  Janet, 

Within  this  garden  grene. 
And  a'  to  kill  the  bonny  babe 
That  we  got  us  between  ? 

26  '  The  truth  ye  '11  tell  to  me,  Tamlane, 

A  word  ye  mauna  lie  ; 
Gin  eer  ye  was  in  haly  chapel. 
Or  sained  in  Christentie  ?  ' 

27  '  The  truth  I  '11  tell  to  thee,  Janet, 

A  word  I  winna  lie  ; 
A  knight  me  got,  and  a  lady  me  bore, 
As  "well  as  they  did  thee. 

28  '  Randolph,  Earl  Murray,  was  my  sire, 

Dunbar,  Earl  March,  is  thine  ; 
We  loved  when  we  were  children  small, 
Which  yet  you  well  may  mind. 

29  '  When  I  was  a  boy  just  turnd  of  nine. 

My  uncle  sent  for  me, 
To  hunt  and  hawk,  and  ride  with  him, 
And  keep  him  companie. 

30  '  There  came  a  wind  out  of  the  north, 

A  sharp  wind  and  a  snell. 
And  a  deep  sleep  came  over  me, 
And  frae  my  horse  I  felL 

31  '  The  Queen  of  Fairies  keppit  me 

In  yon  green  hill  to  dwell. 

And  I  'm  a  fairy,  lyth  and  limb. 

Fair  ladye,  view  me  well. 

32  '  Then  would  I  never  tire,  Janet, 

In  Elfish  land  to  dwell, 
But  aye,  at  every  seven  years, 

They  pay  the  teind  to  hell ; 
And  I  am  sae  fat  and  fair  of  flesh, 

I  fear  't  will  be  mysell. 


23  And  when  she  cam  to  Carterhaugh, 

She  gaed  beside  the  well, 
And  there  she  saw  the  steed  standing, 
But  away  was  himsell. 

24  She  hadna  pu'd  a  double  rose, 

A  rose  but  only  twae, 


33  '  This  night  is  Halloween,  Janet, 

The  morn  is  Hallowday, 
And  gin  ye  dare  your  true  love  win, 
Ye  hae  nae  time  to  stay. 

34  '  The  night  it  is  good  Halloween, 

When  fairy  folk  will  ride, 


39.    TAM   LIN 


355 


And  they  that  wad  their  true-love  win, 
At  Miles  Cross  they  maun  bide.' 

35  '  But  how  shall  I  thee  ken,  Tamlane  ? 

Or  how  shall  I  thee  knaw, 
Amang  so  many  unearthly  knights, 
The  like  I  never  saw  ? ' 

36  '  The  first  company  that  passes  by. 

Say  na,  and  let  them  gae  ; 
The  next  company  that  passes  by, 

Say  na,  and  do  right  sae  ; 
The  third  company  that  passes  by. 

Then  I  '11  be  ane  o  thae. 

37  '  First  let  pass  the  black,  Janet, 

And  syne  let  pass  the  brown. 
But  grip  ye  to  the  milk-white  steed. 
And  pu  the  rider  down. 

38  '  For  I  ride  on  the  milk-white  steed, 

And  aye  nearest  the  town; 
Because  I  was  a  chi-istend  knight, 
They  gave  me  that  renown. 

39  '  My  right  hand  will  be  gloved,  Janet, 

My  left  hand  will  be  bare  ; 
And  these  the  tokens  I  gie  thee, 
Nae  doubt  I  will  be  there. 

40  '  They  '11  turn  me  in  your  arms,  Janet, 

An  adder  and  a  snake ; 
But  had  me  fast,  let  me  not  pass. 
Gin  ye  wad  be  my  maik. 

41  '  They  '11  turn  me  in  your  arms,  Janet, 

An  adder  and  an  ask  ; 
They  '11  turn  me  in  your  arms,  Janet, 
A  bale  that  burns  fast. 


But  had  me  fast,  nor  let  me  gang. 
As  you  do  love  me  weel. 

45  '  They  'II  shape  me  in  your  arms,  Janet, 

A  dove  but  and  a  swan, 
And  last  they  '11  shape  me  in  your  arms 

A  mother-naked  man  ; 
Cast  your  green  mantle  over  me, 

I  '11  be  myself  again.' 

46  Gloomy,  gloomy,  was  the  night. 

And  eiry  was  the  way. 
As  fair  Janet,  in  her  green  mantle, 
To  Miles  Cross  she  did  gae. 

47  About  the  dead  hour  o  the  night 

She  heard  the  bridles  ring, 
And  Janet  was  as  glad  o  that 
As  any  earthly  thing. 

48  And  first  gaed  by  the  black  black  steed, 

And  then  gaed  by  the  brown ; 
But  fast  she  gript  the  milk-white  steed, 
And  pu'd  the  rider  down. 

49  She  pu'd  him  frae  the  milk-white  steed. 

And  loot  the  bridle  fa, 
And  up  there  raise  an  erlish  cry, 
'  He  's  won  amang  us  a' !  ' 

50  They  shaped  him  in  fair  Janet's  arms 

An  esk  but  and  an  adder  ; 
She  held  him  fast  in  every  shape. 
To  be  her  bairn's  father. 

51  They  shaped  him  in  her  arms  at  last 

A  mother-naked  man, 
She  wrapt  him  in  her  green  mantle, 
And  sae  her  true  love  wan. 


42  '  They  '11  turn  me  in  your  arms,  Janet, 

A  red-hot  gad  o  airn  ; 
But  baud  me  fast,  let  me  not  pass, 
For  I  '11  do  you  no  harm. 

43  '  First  dip  me  in  a  stand  o  milk. 

And  then  in  a  stand  o  water ; 
But  had  me  fast,  let  me  not  pass, 
I  '11  be  your  bairn's  father. 

44  '  And  next  they  'U  shape  me  in  your  anna 

A  tod  but  and  an  eel ; 


62  Up  then  spake  the  Queen  o  Fairies, 
Out  o  a  bush  o  broom  : 
•  She  that  has  borrowd  young  Tamlane 
Has  gotten  a  stately  groom.' 

53  Up  then  spake  the  Queen  o  Fairies, 
Out  o  a  bush  o  rye  : 
'  She  's  taen  awa  the  bonniest  knight 
In  a'  my  cumpanie. 

64  '  But  had  I  kennd,  Tamlane,'  she  says, 
'  A  lady  wad  borrowd  thee 


356 


39.     TAM   LIN 


I  wad  taen  out  thy  twa  grey  een, 
Put  in  twa  een  o  tree. 

56  '  Had  I  but  kennd,  Tamlane,'  she  says, 
'  Before  ye  came  frae  hame, 
I  wad  taen  out  your  heart  o  flesh, 
Put  in  a  heart  o  stane. 


56  '  Had  I  but  had  the  wit  yestreen 
That  I  hae  coft  the  day, 
I  'd  paid  my  kane  seven  times  to  hell 
Ere  you  'd  been  won  away.' 


A. 


D.   b 


Divided  in  the  Miiseum  into  45J   four4ine 
stanzas,  ivithout  heed  to  rhyme  or  reason, 
3^'  °  making  a  stanza  with  4*'  ^,  etc. 
3*.  has  belted.     4^.  Tom,  elsewhere  Tam. 
17^.  brie.     34^^.  burning  lead. 
•'  An   Old    Song    called    Young    Tom    Line." 
Written  in  twenty-six  stanzas  of  four  [three, 
two']  long,  or  double,  lines. 
19'.  yon  bonny  babes. 
26^.  and  do  right  sae. 
26''.  and  let  them  g<-ie.     See  36. 
26,  27,  28,  29,  30,  31,  32,  33  stand  in  MS. 

31,  26,  27,  32,  28,  29,  33,  30. 
has  26  stanzas,  c  lias  12.     The  first  12 

stanzas  of  a  and  b  and  the  12  of  o,  and 

again  the  first  22  stanzas  of  a.  and  b,  are 

almost  verhally  the  same,  and  a  23  = 

b  24.    b  lias  hut  26  stanzas. 

15  stands  24  in  MS. 

17^  Miles  Cross :  b,  Moss. 

17«.  the  holy. 

19^  So(?)  clad:  b,  is  clad. 

221.  t^a.     25'.  ride. 
4^.  let  abeene.     6*.  I  'II  ask  no. 
7''.  her  down.     10*.  gotten  in. 

11^.  to  me.     11'.  at  a. 

12*.  his  land.     15'.  and  through. 

16^.  if  that.     16'.  Rides  Cross,  as  in  &. 

17'.  Take  holy.     20*.  next  the. 

After  23 : 

'  I  '11  grow  into  your  arms  two 
Like  ice  on  frozen  lake  ; 

But  hold  me  fast,  let  me  not  go, 
Or  from  your  goupen  break.' 

25.  And  it 's  next  night  into  Miles  Moss 
Fair  Margaret  has  gone. 

When   lo   she    stands    beside    Rides 
Cross, 
Between  twelve  hours  and  one. 

26.  There  'a  holy  water  in  her  hand. 
She  casts  a  compass  round, 


b. 


And  presently  a  fairy  band 
Comes  riding  oer  the  mound. 

c.      1',  and  always,  Chester's  wood. 
31.  the  seam. 
4*.  let  alane. 

6'.  wUl  pluck.     6*.  ask  no. 
9*.  has  been. 
11'.  me,  Tom  o  Lin. 
12*.  his  land. 
E,  18,  19,  20  are  not  written  out.     We  are  di- 
rected to  understand  them  to  he  "  as  in  pre- 
ceding stanzas,  making  the  necessary  gram- 
matical changes." 
P.    ll'^,  15^.  ass,  somehody's  blunder  for  ask. 
G.    21^.  elfin  gray,  Motherwell,  hut  see  H,  7'. 
26'.  Ay.     31'.  began. 
58^^.  Mothe7'well :  far 's  the  river  Tay. 
58*.  Motherwell:  she  gained. 
Motherwell,   as  usual,   seems   to   have   made 
some  slight  changes  in  copying. 
I.     Scott's  co23y  having  heen  "  prepared  from  a  col- 
lation of  the  printed  copies,"  namely,  those 
in  Johnson's  Museum  and  Herd's  Scottish 
Songs,  "  with  a  very  accurate  one  in  Glen- 
riddeU's  MS.,  and  with  several  recitals  from 
tradition,"  what  was  not  derived  from  tra- 
dition, hut  from  the  Museum,  Glenriddell, 
and  Herd,  is  printed  in  smaller  type. 
a.  3,  20,  not  in  b. 

After  31  are  omitted  five  stanzas  of  the  copy 
obtained  by  Scott  "  from  a  gentleman  re- 
siding near  Langholm,"  and  others,  of  the 
same  origin,  after  46  a7ul  47. 

32  '  But  we  that  live  in  F'airy-land 

No  sickness  know  nor  pain ; 
I  quit  my  body  when  I  will, 
And  take  to  it  again. 

33  '  I  quit  my  body  when  T  please, 

Or  unto  it  repair  ; 
We  can  inhabit  at  our  ease 
In  either  earth  or  air. 


39.    TAM  UN 


357 


34  '  Our  shapes  and  size  we  can  convert 

To  either  large  or  small ; 
An  old  nut-shell 's  the  same  to  us 
As  is  the  lofty  hall. 

35  '  We  sleep  in  rose-buds  soft  and  sweet, 

We  revel  in  the  stream  ; 
We  wanton  lightly  on  the  wind 
Or  glide  on  a  sunbeam. 

36  '  And  all  our  wants  are  well  supplied 

From  every  rich  man's  store, 
Who  thankless  sins  the  gifts  he  gets. 
And  vainly  grasps  for  more.' 

40*.  buy  me  maik,  a  plain  misprint  for  the 
be  my  maik  of  b  57. 

46.  After  this  stanza  are  omitted  : 

52  The  heavens  were  black,  the  night  was 

dark. 
And  dreary  was  the  place. 
But  Janet  stood  with  eager  wish 
Her  lover  to  embrace. 

53  Betwixt  the  houi-s  of  twelve  and  one 

A  north  wind  tore  the  bent, 
And  straight  she  heard  strange  elritch 
sounds 
Upon  that  wind  which  went. 

47.  After  this  stanza  are  omitted  : 

55  Their  oaten  pipes  blew  wondrous  shrill, 

The  hemlock  small  blew  clear, 
And  louder  notes  from  hemlock  large, 

And  bog-reed,  struck  the  ear  ; 
But  solemn  sounds,  or  sober  thoughts, 

The  fairies  cannot  bear. 

56  They  sing,  inspired  >vith  love  and  joy. 

Like  skylarks  in  the  air  ; 
Of  solid  sense,  or  thought  that 's  grave. 
You  '11  find  no  traces  there. 

57  Fair  Janet  stood,  with  mind  unmoved. 

The  dreary  heath  upon, 
And  louder,  louder  waxd  the  sound 
As  they  came  riding  on. 

58  Will  o  Wisp  before  them  went, 

Sent  forth  a  twinkling  light. 


And  soon  she  saw  the  fairy  bands 
All  riding  in  her  sight. 

b  6-12  is  a  fragment  of  '  The  Broomfield- 
Hill,'  introduced  by  a  stanza  formed  on 
the  sixth,  as  here  given  : 

5.  And  she  's  away  to  Carterhaugh, 
And  gaed  beside  the  wood. 
And  there  was  sleeping  young  Tam- 
lane. 
And  his  steed  beside  him  stood. 

After  the  fragment  of '  The  Broomfield-Hill ' 
follows : 

13.  Fair  Janet,  in  her  green  cleiding, 

Returned  upon  the  morn. 
And  she  met  her  father's  ae  brother, 
The  laird  of  Abercom. 

And  then  these  two  stanzas,  the  first  altered 
from.  Herd's  fragment  of '  The  Broomfield 
Hill,'  '  I  'U  wager,  I'll  wager,'  p.  310,  ed. 
1769,  and  the  second  from  Herd's  frag- 
ment, '  Kertonha.'  or  version  C  of  this 
ballad  : 

14.  I  '11  wager,  I  '11  wager,  I  'U  wager  wi 

you 
Five  bunder  merk  and  ten, 
I  '11  maiden  gang  to  Carterhaugh, 
And  maiden  come  again. 

15.  She  princked  hersell,  and  prin'd  her- 

sell, 
By  the  ae  light  of  the  moon, 
And  she 's  away  to  Carterhaugh 
As  fast  as  she  could  win. 

Instead  of  a  10,  11,  b  has : 

He  's  taen  her  by  the  milk-white  hand, 
And  by  the  grass-green  sleeve, 

He 's  led  her  to  the  fairy  ground. 
And  spierd  at  her  nae  leave. 

Instead  of  14  q/"  a,  b  has  something  nearer 
<o  A,  B  9  : 

23.  It 's  four  and  twenty  ladies  fair 
Were  in  her  father's  ha. 


358 


40.    THE  QUEEN   OF  ELFAN'S  NOURICB 


Whan  in  there  came  the  fah-  Janet, 
The  flower  amang  them  a'. 

After  21  of  a  follows  in  b  a  copy  of  '  The 
Wee  Wee  Man,'  32-39,  attached  hy  these 
tioo  stanzas,  which  had  bee7i  "  introduced 
in  one  recital  only  :  " 

30.  '  Is  it  to  a  man  of  might,  Janet, 

Or  is  it  to  a  man  o  mean  ? 
Or  is  it  unto  young  Tamlane, 
That 's  wi  the  fairies  gane  ? ' 

31.  '  'T  was    down   by   Carterhaugh,   fa- 

ther, 
I  walked  beside  the  wa. 
And  there  I  saw  a  wee,  wee  man, 
The  least  that  eer  I  saw.' 

Instead  of  22,  which  had  been  used  before, 
we  have  in  b  : 


40.  Janet  's  put  on  her  green  cleiding. 

Whan  near  nine  months  were  gane, 
And  she  's  awa  to  Carterhaugh, 
To  speak  wi  young  Tamlane. 

b  has  in  place  of  a  28-30 : 

46.  Roxburgh  was  my  grandfather. 

Took  me  with  him  to  bide. 
And  as  we  frae  the  hunting  came 
This  harm  did  me  betide. 

47.  Roxburgh  was  a  hunting  knight, 

And  loved  hunting  well. 
And  on  a  cauld  and  frosty  day 
Down  frae  my  horse  I  fell. 

b  49  Aas  A  24  instead  of  a  37,  I  32. 

b  ei''  =  a  49^*  =  I  44^  has  toad,  and  so  has 
C  9^,  from  which  the  stanza  is  taken. 
Tod  is  an  imp>rovement,  but  probably  an 
editorial  improvement. 


40 

THE   QUEEN   OF   ELFAN'S   NOURICE 


Skene  MSS,  No  8,  p.  25.     Sharpe's  Ballad  Book,  ed.  Laing,  p.  169. 


We  see  from  this  pretty  fragment,  which, 
after  the  nature  of  the  best  popular  ballad, 
forces  you  to  chant  and  will  not  be  read,  that 
a  woman  had  been  carried  off,  four  days  after 
bearing  a  son,  to  serve  as  nurse  in  the  elf- 
queen's  family.  She  is  promised  that  she 
shall  be  permitted  to  return  home  if  she  will 
tend  the  fairy's  bairn  till  he  has  got  the  use 
of  his  legs.  We  could  well  have  spared  stanzas 
10-12,  which  belong  to  '  Thomas  Rymer,'  to 
know  a  little  more  of  the  proper  story. 

That  elves  and  water-spirits  have  frequently 
solicited  the  help  of  mortal  women  at  lying-in 

*  Many  of  these  instances  are  cited  by  Grimm,  Deutsche 
Mythologie,  1875,  I,  378.  In  Thiele's  first  example  the  ne- 
cessity of  having  Christian  aid  comes  from  the  lying-in 
woman  being  a  Christian  who  had  been  carried  off  by  an  elf. 


time  is  well  known  :  see  Stewart's  Popular 
Supei-stitions  of  the  Highlands,  p.  104 ;  Grimm, 
Deutsche  Sagen,  Nos  41,49,  68,  69,  304;  Mul- 
lenhoff,  Nos  443, 444 ;  Thiele,  Danmarks  Folke- 
sagen,  1848,  II,  200,  Nos  1-4 ;  AsbJ0rnsen, 
Norske  Huldre-Eventyr,  2d  ed.,  I,  16 ;  Mau- 
rer,  Islandische  Volkssagen,  p.  6  f ;  Keight- 
ley's  Fairy  Mythology,  pp  122,  261,  275,  301, 
311,  388,  488.*  They  also  like  to  have  their 
offspring  suckled  by  earthly  women.  It  is 
said,  writes  Gervase  of  Tilbury,  that  nobody 
is  more  exposed  to  being  carried  off  by  water- 
sprites  than  a  woman  in  milk,  and  that  they 

In  AsbJ0rnsen'3  tale,  the  woman  who  is  sent  for  to  act  as 
midwife  finds  that  her  own  serving-maid  is  forced,  without 
being  aware  of  it,  to  work  all  night  in  the  elfin  establishment, 
and  is  very  tired  with  double  duty. 


40.    THE  QUEEN   OF  ELFAN'S  NOUBIOE 


359 


sometimes  restore  such  a  woman,  with  pay  for 
her  services,  after  she  has  nursed  their  wretched 
fry  seven  years.  He  had  himself  seen  a  woman 
who  had  been  abducted  for  this  purpose,  while 
washing  clothes  on  the  bank  of  the  Rhone. 
She  had  to  nurse  the  nix's  son  under  the  water 
for  that  term,  and  then  was  sent  back  unhurt. 
Otia  Imperialia,  III,  85,  Liebrecht,  p.  38. 
Choice  is  natui-ally  made  of  the  healthiest  and 
handsomest  mothers  for  this  office.  "  A  fine 
young  woman  of  Nithsdale,  when  first  made  a 
mother,  was  sitting  singing  and  rocking  her 
child,  when  a  pretty  lady  came  into  her  cot- 
tage, covered  with  a  fairy  mantle.     She  car- 


ried a  beautiful  child  in  her  arms,  swaddled  in 
green  silk.  '  Gie  my  bonnie  thing  a  suck,' 
said  the  fairy.  The  young  woman,  conscious 
to  whom  the  child  belonged,  took  it  kindly  in 
her  arms,  and  laid  it  to  her  breast.  The  lady 
instantly  disappeared,  saying,  '  Nurse  kin',  an 
ne'er  want.'  The  young  mother  nurtured  the 
two  babes,  and  was  astonished,  whenever  she 
awoke,  at  finding  the  richest  suits  of  apparel 
for  both  children,  with  meat  of  most  delicious 
flavor.  This  food  tasted,  says  tradition,  like 
loaf  mixed  with  wine  and  honey,"  etc.  Cro- 
mek.  Remains  of  Nithsdale  and  Galloway 
Song,  p.  302. 


1  I  HEAKD  a  cow  low,  a'^bonnie  cow  low, 
An  a  cow  low  down  in  yon  glen  ; 
Lang,  lang  will  my  young  son  greet 
Or  his  mither  bid  him  come  ben. 


7  '  I  moan  na  for  my  meat, 
Nor  yet  for  my  fee, 
But  I  mourn  for  Christen  land, 
It 's  there  I  fain  would  be.' 


2  I  heard  a  cow  low,  a  bonnie  cow  low. 
An  a  cow  low  down  in  yon  fauld  ; 
Lang,  lang  will  my  young  son  greet 
Or  his  mither  take  him  frae  cauld. 


Waken,  Queen  of  Elfan, 

An  hear  your  nourice  moan.' 

4  '  O  moan  ye  for  your  meat, 
Or  moan  ye  for  your  fee. 
Or  moan  ye  for  the  ither  bounties 
That  ladies  are  wont  to  gie  ?  ' 


8  '  0  nurse  my  bairn,  nourice,'  she  says, 

'  Tin  he  Stan  at  your  knee. 
An  ye  's  win  hame  to  Chi-isten  land, 
Whar  fain  it 's  ye  wad  be. 

9  '  O  keep  my  bairn,  nourice. 

Till  he  gang  by  the  hauld, 
An  ye  's  win  hame  to  your  young  son 
Ye  left  in  four  nights  auld.' 


10  '  O  nourice  lay  your  head 
Upo  my  knee  : 
See  ye  na  that  narrow  road 
Up  by  yon  tree  ? 


5  *  I  moan  na  for  my  meat, 
Nor  moan  I  for  my  fee, 
Nor  moan  I  for  the  ither  bounties 
Tliat  ladies  are  wont  to  gie. 


11 


That 's  the  road  the  righteous  goes, 
And  that 's  the  road  to  heaven. 


But  I  moan  for  my  young  son 
I  left  in  four  nights  auld. 


12  '  An  see  na  ye  that  braid  road, 
Down  by  yon  sunny  fell  ? 
Yon 's  the  road  the  wicked  gae. 
An  that 's  the  road  to  hell.' 


360 


41.    HIND   ETIN 


1^.  an  a  bonnie  cow  low,  with  an  crossed  out. 

2^.  yon  fall :  fauld  in  margin. 

&*.  auld  not  in  MS.,  supplied  from  9*. 


7».  Christend. 

8*.  she  says  is  probably  the  comment  of  the  singer 
or  reciter. 


41 
HIND   ETIN 


A.  '  Young  Akin,'  Buchan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of 
Scotland,  I,  6.    Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  554. 

B.  '  Hynde  Etin,'  Kinloch's  Ancient  Scottish  Ballads, 
p.  228. 


C.  '  Young  Hastings,'  Buchan,  Ballads  of  the  North  of 
Scotland,  II,  67.  'Young  Hastings  the  Groom,' 
Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  450  ;  Motherwell's  Minstrelsy, 
p.  287. 


It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  remark  that  this 
ballad,  like  too  many  others,  has  suffered  se- 
verely by  the  accidents  of  tradition.  A  has 
been  not  simply  damaged  by  passing  through 
low  mouths,  but  has  been  worked  over  by  low 
hands.  Something  considerable  has  been  lost 
from  the  story,  and  fine  romantic  features, 
preserved  in  Norse  and  German  ballads,  have 
been  quite  effaced. 

Margaret,  a  king's  daughter.  A,  an  earl's 
daughter,  B,  a  lady  of  noble  birth,  C,  as  she 
sits  sewing  in  her  bower  door,  hears  a  note  in 
Elmond's  wood  and  wishes  herself  there,  A. 
The  wood  is  Amon-shaw  in  C,  Mulberry  in 
B  :  the  Elmond  (Amond,  Elfman  ?)  is  proba- 
bly significant.  So  far  the  heroine  resembles 
Lady  Isabel  in  No  4,  who,  sewing  in  her  bower, 
hears  an  elf-horn,  and  cannot  resist  the  en- 
chanted tone.  Margaret  makes  for  the  wood 
as  fast  as  she  can  go.  The  note  that  is  heard 
in  A  is  mistaken  in  B  for  nuts :  Margaret, 
as  siie  stands  in  her  bower  door,  spies  some 
nuts  growing  in  the  wood,  and  wishes  her- 
self there.  Arrived  at  the  wood,  Margaret,  in 
A  as  well  as  B,  immediately  takes  to  pulling 
nuts.*     The  lady  is  carried  off   in    C  under 

•  This  reading,  nuts,  may  have  subsequently  made  its  way 
into  A  instead  of  rose,  which  it  would  be  more  ballad-like 
for  Margaret  to  be  plucking,  as  the  maid  does  in  '  Tarn  Lin,' 
where  also  the  passage  A  3-6,  B  2-4  occurs.  Grimm  sug- 
gests a  parallel  to  Tam  Liu  in  the  dwarf  Laurin,  who  does 
not  allow  trespassing  in  his  rose-garden :  Deutsche  My  Iholo- 


cover  of  a  magical  mist,  and  the  hero  in  all 
is  no  ordinary  hind. 

Margaret  has  hardly  pulled  a  nut,  when  she 
is  confronted  by  young  Akin,  A,  otherwise, 
and  correctly,  called  Etin  in  B,  a  hind  of  giant 
strength  in  both,  who  accuses  her  of  trespass- 
ing, and  stops  her.  Akin  pulls  up  the  highest 
tree  in  the  wood  and  builds  a  bower,  invisible 
to  passers-by,  for  their  habitation.  B,  which 
recognizes  no  influence  of  enchantment  upon 
the  lady's  will,  as  foimd  in  A,  and  no  prepos- 
session on  her  part,  as  in  C,  makes  Hind  Etin 
pull  up  the  biggest  tree  in  the  forest  as  well, 
but  it  is  to  scoop  out  a  cave  many  fathoms 
deep,  in  which  he  confines  Margaret  till  she 
comes  to  terms,  and  consents  to  go  home  with 
him,  wherever  that  may  be.  Hastings,  an- 
other corruption  of  Etin,  carries  off  the  lady 
on  his  horse  to  the  wood,  "  where  again  their 
loves  are  sworn,"  and  there  they  take  up 
their  abode  in  a  cave  of  stone,  C  9.  Lady 
Margaret  lives  with  the  etin  seven  years,  and 
bears  him  seven  sons,  A  9 ;  many  years,  and 
bears  seven  sons,  B;  ten  years,  and  bears 
seven  bairns,  C  6,  8,  9.f 

Once  upon  a  time  the  etin  goes  hunting, 

gie,  III,  130.  But  the  resemblance  seems  not  material,  there 
being  no  woman  in  the  case.  The  pretence  of  trespass  in 
Tam  Liu  and  Hind  Etin  is  a  simple  commonplace,  aud  we 
have  it  in  some  Slavic  forms  of  No  4,  as  at  p.  41. 

t  B  is  defective  iu   the  middle  and  the  end.     "The   re- 
citer, unfortunately,  could  not  remember  more  of  the  ballad 


41.    HIND  ETIN 


861 


and  takes  his  eldest  boy  with  him.  The  boy 
asks  his  father  why  his  mother  is  so  often  in 
tears,  and  the  father  says  it  is  because  she  was 
born  of  high  degree,  but  had  been  stolen  by 
him  ;  "  is  wife  of  Hynde  Etin,  wha  ne'er  got 
christendame,"  B  15.  The  etin,  who  could 
pull  the  highest  tree  in  the  wood  up  by  the 
roots,  adds  in  A  15  that  when  he  stole  his 
wife  he  was  her  father's  cup-bearer  !  and  that 
he  caught  her  "  on  a  misty  night,"  which  re- 
minds us  of  the  mist  which  Young  Hiistings, 
"  the  groom,"  cast  before  the  lady's  attendants 
when  he  carried  her  off. 

The  next  time  Akin  goes  hunting  he  leaves 
his  young  comrade  behind,  and  the  boy  tells 
his  mother  that  he  heard  "  fine  music  ring " 
when  he  was  coming  home,  on  the  other  oc- 
casion. She  wishes  she  had  been  there.  He 
takes  his  mother  and  six  brothers,  and  they 
make  their  way  through  the  wood  at  their 
best  speed,  not  knowing  in  what  direction 
they  are  going.  But  luckily  they  come  to  the 
gate  of  the  king,  the  father  and  grandfather 
of  the  band.  The  mother  sends  her  eldest 
boy  in  with  three  rings,  to  propitiate  the 
porter,  the  butler-boy,  who  acts  as  usher  in 
this  particular  palace,  and  the  minstrel  who 
plays  before  the  king.  His  majesty  is  so 
struck  with  the  resemblance  of  the  boj'  to  his 
daughter  that  he  is  blinded  with  tears.  The 
boy  informs  his  grandfather  that  his  mother 
is  standing  at  the  gates,  with  six  more  broth- 
ers, and  the  king  orders  that  she  be  admitted. 
He  asks  her  to  dine,  but  she  can  touch  noth- 
ing till  she  has  seen  her  mother  and  sister. 
Admitted  to  her  mother,  the  queen  in  turn 
says.  You  will  dine  with  me ;  but  she  can  touch 
nothing  till  she  has  seen  her  sister.  Her  sis- 
ter, again,  invites  her  to  dine,  but  now  she  can 
touch  nothing  till  she  has  seen  her  "  dear  hus- 
band."    Rangers  are  sent  into  the  wood  to 


fetch  Young  Akin,  under  promise  of  a  full 
pardon.  He  is  found  tearing  his  yellow  hair. 
The  king  now  asks  Akin  to  dine  with  him, 
and  there  appears  to  have  been  a  family  din- 
ner. While  this  is  going  on  the  boy  expi-esses 
a  wish  to  be  christened,  "  to  get  christen- 
doun ; "  in  all  his  eight  years  he  had  never 
been  in  a  church.  The  king  promises  that  he 
shall  go  that  very  day  with  his  mother,  and 
all  seven  of  the  boys  seem  to  have  got  their 
christendoun  ;  and  so,  we  may  hope,  did  Hind 
Etin,  who  was,  if  possible,  more  in  want  of  it 
than  they  ;  B  15,  19. 

In  this  story  A  and  B  pretty  nearly  agree. 
C  has  nothing  of  the  restoration  of  the  lady  to 
her  parents  and  home.  The  mother,  in  this 
version,  having  harped  her  seven  bairns  asleep, 
sits  down  and  weeps  bitterly.  She  wishes, 
like  Fair  Annie,  that  they  were  rats,  and  she 
a  cat,  to  eat  them  one  and  all.  She  has  lived 
ten  years  in  a  stone  cave,  and  has  never 
had  a  churching.  The  eldest  boy  suggests 
that  they  shall  all  go  to  some  church:  they 
be  christened  and  she  be  churched.  This  is 
accomplished  without  any  difficulty,  and,  as 
the  tale  stands,  we  can  only  wonder  that  it 
had  not  been  attempted  before. 

The  etin  of  the  Scottish  stoi-y  is  in  Norse 
and  German  a  dwarf-king,  elf-king,  hill-king, 
or  even  a  merman.  The  ballad  is  still  sung  in 
Scandinavia  and  Germany,  but  only  the  Danes 
have  versions  taken  down  before  the  present 
century. 

Danish.  '  Jomfruen  og  Dvsergekongen,' 
Grundtvig,  No  37,  A-C  from  manuscripts  of 
the  sixteenth  century.  A-Q-,  Grundtvig,  II, 
39-46  ;  H,  I,  III,  806-808  ;  K-T,  IV,  795- 
800,  P-S  being  short  fragments.  K  previously 
in  "  Fylla,"  a  weekly  newspaper,  1870,  Nos 
23,  30 ;  L-O,  Q,  R,  '  Agnete  i  Bjaerget,'  in 
Kristensen's  Jyske  Folkeviser,  II,  72,  77,  349, 


although  the  story  was  strongly  impressed  on  her  memory. 
She  related  that  the  lady,  after  having  been  taken  home  by 
Hynde  Etin,  lived  with  him  many  years,  and  bore  him  seven 
sons,  the  eldest  of  whom,  after  the  inquiries  at  his  parents 
detailed  in  the  ballad,  determines  to  go  in  search  of  the  earl, 
his  grandfather.  At  his  departure  his  mother  instructs  him 
how  to  proceed,  giving  him  a  ring  to  bribe  the  porter  at  her 
father's  gate,  and  a  silken  vest,  wrought  by  her  own  hand, 
to  be  worn  in  presence  of  her  father.  The  son  sets  out,  and 
46 


arrives  at  the  castle,  where,  by  bribing  the  porter,  he  gets 
admission  to  the  earl,  who,  struck  with  the  resemblance  of 
the  youth  to  his  lost  daughter,  and  the  similarity  of  the  vest 
to  one  she  had  wrought  for  himself,  examines  the  young 
man,  from  whom  he  discovers  the  fate  of  his  daughter.  He 
gladly  receives  his  grandson,  and  goes  to  his  daughter's  resi- 
dence, where  he  meets  her  and  Hynde  Etin,  who  is  pardoned 
by  the  earl,  through  the  intercession  of  his  daughter."  Kin- 
locb,  Ancient  Scottish  Ballads,  p.  226  f. 


362 


41.     HIND   ETIN 


74,  I,  xxxi,  II,  79  ;  U,  a  short  fragment, 
Danske  Viser,  V,  x,  xi. 

Swedish.  '  Den  Bergtagna,'  A,  B,  Afze- 
lius,  I,  1,  No  1,  II,  201.  C,  'Bergkonun- 
gen,'  Afzelius,  II,  22,  No  35.  D,  B,  '  Herr 
Elver,  Bergakonungen,'  Arwidsson,  II,  277, 
No  141  B,  II,  275,  No  141  A.  F,  '  Jungfrun 
och  Bergakonungen,'  Arwidsson,  II,  280,  No 
142.  G,  '  Agneta  och  Bergamannen,'  Wig- 
strom,  Folkdiktning,  p.  13.  H,  '  Jungfrun  och 
Bergamannen,'  the  same,  p.  21.  I,  K,  L,  in 
Cavallius  and  Stephens'  manuscript  collection 
(K,  L,  fragments),  given  by  Grundtvig,  IV, 
803.  M,  F.  L.  Borgstroms  Folkvisor,  No  11, 
described  by  Grundtvig,  IV,  802.  N,  Wer- 
ner's Westergotlands  Fornminnen,  p.  93  f,  two 
stanzas. 

Norwegian.  A,  B,*  C,  '  Liti  Kersti, 
som  vart  inkvervd,'  Landstad,  p.  431,  No 
42,  p.  442,  No  44,  p.  446,  No  45.  D,  '  Mar- 
git  Hjuxe,  som  vart  inkvervd,'  the  same,  p. 
451,  No  46.  B,  F,  'M&lfri,'  '  Antonetta,' 
Grundtvig,  IV,  801  f,  the  last  evidently  de- 
rived from  Denmark.  Gr-P,  nine  versions  com- 
municated to  Grundtvig  by  Professor  Sophus 
Bugge,  and  partially  described  in  Danmarks 
gamle  Folkeviser,  III,  808-10.  Lindeman 
gives  the  first  stanza  of  A  with  airs  No  214, 
No  262  of  his  Fjeldmelodier,  and  perhaps 
had  different  copies.  Nos  323,  320  may  also 
have  been  versions  of  this  ballad.  C,  rewrit- 
ten, occurs  in  J.  M.  Moe  og  Ivar  Morten- 
sen's  Norske  Fornkvaede  og  Folkevisur,  p.  16. 
Mixed  forms,  in  which  the  ballad  proper  is 
blended  with  another,  Landstad,  No  43  = 
Swedish,  Arwidsson,  No  145 ;  eight,  commu- 
nicated by  Bugge,  Grundtvig,  III,  810-13 ; 
two  others,  IV,  483  f.f 

Faroe.     A,  B,  Grundtvig,  IV,  803  f. 

Icelandic.  '  Rika  dlfs  kv8ec5i,'  Islenzk 
fornkvseSi,  No  4. 

Danish  A,  one  of  the  three  sixteenth-cen- 
tury versions,  tells  how  a  knight,  expressing  a 

*  B,  Landstad  44  (which  has  only  this  in  common  with 
the  Scottish  ballad,  that  a  hill-man  carries  a  maid  to  his  cave), 
has  much  resemblance  at  the  beginning  to  '  Kvindemorde- 
ren,'  Grundtvig,  No  183,  our  No  4.  See  Grundtvig's  note  ** 
at  III,  810.  This  is  only  what  might  be  looked  for,  since 
both  ballads  deal  with  abductions. 


strong  desire  to  obtain  a  king's  daughter,  is 
overheard  by  a  dwarf,  who  says  this  shall 
never  be.  The  dwarf  pretends  to  bargain 
with  the  knight  for  his  services  in  forward- 
ing the  knight's  object,  but  consults  mean- 
while with  his  mother  how  he  may  get  the 
lady  for  himself.^  The  mother  tells  him  that 
the  princess  will  go  to  even-song,  and  the 
dwarf  writes  runes  on  the  way  she  must  go 
by,  which  compel  her  to  come  to  the  hill. 
The  dwarf  holds  out  his  hand  and  asks.  How 
came  ye  to  this  strange  land  ?  to  which  the 
lady  answers  mournfully,  I  wot  never  how. 
The  dwarf  says.  You  have  pledged  yourself  to 
a  knight,  and  he  has  betrayed  you  with  runes : 
this  eve  you  shall  be  the  dwarf's  guest.  She 
stayed  thei'e  the  night,  and  was  taken  back 
to  her  mother  in  the  morning.  Eight  years 
went  by ;  her  hand  was  sought  by  five  kings, 
nine  counts,  but  no  one  of  them  could  get  a 
good  answer.  One  day  her  mother  asked, 
Why  are  thy  cheeks  so  faded  ?  Why  can 
no  one  get  thee  ?  She  then  revealed  that  she 
had  been  beguiled  by  the  dwarf,  and  had 
seven  sons  and  a  daughter  in  the  hill,  none  of 
whom  she  ever  saw.  She  thought  she  was 
alone,  but  the  dwarf-king  was  listening.  He 
strikes  her  with  an  elf-rod,  and  bids  her  hie  to 
the  hill  after  him.  Late  in  the  evening  the 
poor  thing  dons  her  cloak,  knocks  at  her  fa- 
ther's door,  and  says  good-night  to  the  friends 
that  never  will  see  her  again,  then  sadly  turns 
to  the  hill.  Her  seven  sons  advance  to  meet 
her,  and  ask  why  she  told  of  their  father. 
Her  tears  run  sore ;  she  gives  no  answer ;  she 
is  dead  ere  midnight. 

With  A  agrees  another  of  the  three  old 
Danish  copies,  B,  and  three  modern  ones,  D, 
M,  N,  have  something  of  the  opening  scene 
which  characterizes  A.  So  also  Swedish  C,  I, 
and  the  Icelandic  ballad.  In  Swedish  C,  Proud 
Margaret,  who  is  daughter  of  a  king  of  seven 
kingdoms,  will  have  none  of  her  suitors  (this 

t  It  is  not  necessary,  for  purposes  of  the  English  ballad, 
to  notice  these  mixed  forms. 

J  In  '  Nekkens  Svig,'  C,  Grundtvig,  No  39,  the  merman 
consults  with  his  mother,  and  then,  as  also  in  olher  copies  of 
the  ballad,  transforms  himself  into  a  knight.  See  the  trans- 
lation by  Prior,  III,  269  ;  Jamieson,  Popular  Ballads,  I,  210 ; 
Lewis,  Tales  of  Wonder,  I,  60. 


41.    HIND   ETIN 


363 


circumstance  comes  too  soon).  A  hill-king 
asks  his  mother  how  he  may  get  her.  She 
asks  in  return,  What  will  you  give  me  to 
make  her  come  of  herself  to  the  hill?  He 
promises  red  gold  and  chestf  uls  of  pence ;  and 
one  Sunday  morning  Margaret,  who  has  set 
out  to  go  to  church,  is  made  —  by  magical 
operations,  of  course  —  to  take  the  way  to  the 
hill. 

A  second  form  begins  a  stage  later :  Danish 
C,  G,  K,  Swedish  D,  E,  K,  Norwegian  A,  C, 
E,  G,  H,  I  (?),  K,  L,  M  (?)  N  (?),  Faroe  A, 
B.  We  learn  nothing  of  the  device  by  which 
the  maid  has  been  entrapped.  Mother  and 
daughter  are  sitting  in  their  bower,  and  the 
mother  asks  her  child  why  her  cheeks  are  pale, 
why  milk  is  running  from  her  breasts.  She 
answers  that  she  has  been  working  too  hard  ; 
that  what  is  taken  for  milk  is  mead.  The 
mother  retorts  that  other  women  do  not  suffer 
from  their  industry ;  tliat  mead  is  brown,  and 
milk  is  white.  Hei"eupon  the  daughter  re- 
veals that  she  has  been  beguiled  by  an  elf, 
and,  though  living  under  her  mother's  roof, 
has  had  eight  or  nine  children  (seven  or  eight 
sons  and  a  daughter ;  fifteen  children,  Faroe 
A,  B),  none  of  whom  she  ever  saw,  since  after 
birth  they  were  always  transferred  to  the  hill 
(see,  especially,  Danish  C,  G,  also  A ;  Nor- 
wegian H,  I ;  Faroe  A,  B).  The  mother  (who 
disowns  her,  Danish  C,  G,  Swedish  D,  E,  Nor- 
wegian K),  in  several  versions,  asks  what  gifts 
she  got  for  her  honor.  Among  these  was  a 
harp  [horn,  Norwegian  L],  which  she  was  to 
play  when  she  was  unhappy.  The  mother 
asks  for  a  piece,  and  the  first  tones  bring  the 
elf,  who  reproaches  the  daughter  for  betraying 
him  :  had  she  concealed  their  connection  she 
might  still  have  lived  at  home,  C  ;  but  now 
she  must  go  with  him.  She  is  kindly  received 
by  her  children.    They  give  her  a  drink  which 


makes  her  forget  father  and  mother,  heaven 
and  earth,  moon  and  sun,  and  even  makes  her 
think  she  was  born  in  the  hill,  Danish  C,  Q, 
Swedish  D,  Norwegian  A,  C* 

Danish  G,  K,  Faroe  A,  B,  take  a  tragic 
turn :  the  woman  dies  in  the  first  two  the 
night  she  comes  to  the  hill.  Danish  C,  one 
of  the  sixteenth-century  versions,  goes  as  far 
as  possible  in  the  other  direction.  The  elf- 
king  pats  Maldfred's  cheek,  takes  her  in  his 
arms,  gives  her  a  queen's  crown  and  name. 

And  this  he  did  for  the  lUy-wand, 

He  had  himself  christened  and  all  his  land ! 

A  third  series  of  versions  offers  the  probable 
type  of  the  much-corrupted  Scottish  ballads, 
and  under  this  head  come  Danish  E,  F,  H,  I, 
L-R,  T ;  Swedish  A,  B,  F-I,  and  also  C,  after 
an  introduction  which  belongs  to  the  first 
class ;  Norwegian  D,  P.  The  characteristic 
feature  is  that  the  woman  has  been  living 
eight  or  nine  j'ears  in  the  hill,  and  has  there 
borne  her  children,  commonly  seven  sons  and 
a  daughter.  She  sets  out  to  go  to  matins, 
and  whether  under  the  influence  of  runes,  or 
accidentally,  or  purposely,  takes  the  way  to 
the  hill.  In  a  few  cases  it  is  clear  that  she 
does  not  seek  the  hill-man  or  put  herself  in  his 
way,  e.  g.,  Danish  N,  Swedish  G,  but  Swed- 
ish A,  H,  N  make  her  apply  for  admission  at 
the  hill-door.  In  Danish  I,  N-R,  T,  Norwe- 
gian P,  it  is  not  said  that  she  was  on  her  way 
to  church  ;  she  is  in  a  field  or  in  the  hill.  In 
Swedish  P  she  has  been  two  years  in  the  cave, 
and  it  seems  to  her  as  if  she  had  come  yester- 
day. After  her  eight  or  nine  years  with  the 
hill-man  the  woman  longs  to  go  home,  Danish 
E,  P,  I,  Swedish  A,  P,  I,  Norwegian  D ;  to  go 
to  church,  Danish  L,  M,  N,  P,  T,  Norwegian 
P  ;  for  she  had  heard  Denmark's  bells,  church 
bells,  Danish  L-P,  T,  Swedish  G,  Norwegian 


»  The  beauty  of  the  Norse  ballads  shoald  make  an  Eng- 
lishman's heart  wrii)g  for  his  loss.  They  arc  panicnlarly 
pretty  here,  where  the  forgetful  draught  is  administered  ;  as 
Norwegian  C,  A : 

Forth  came  her  daughter,  as  jimp  as  a  wand, 

She  dances  a  dance,  with  silver  can  in  hand. 

'  O  where  wast  thou  bred,  and  wliere  wast  thou  born  ? 

And  where  were  thy  maiden-garments  shorn  ?  ' 


'In  Norway  was  I  bred,  in  Norway  was  I  bom, 
And  in  Norway  were  my  njaiden-garments  shorn.' 
The  ae  first  drink  from  the  silver  can  she  drank, 
What  stock  slie  was  come  of  she  clean  forgat. 
'  O  where  wast  thou  bred,  and  where  wast  thou  bom? 
And  w^here  were  thy  maiden-garments  shorn'?  ' 
'  In  the  hill  was  I  bred,  and  there  was  I  born, 
In  the  hill  were  my  maiden-garments  shorn.' 


364 


41.    HIND  ETIN 


D,  P.  She  had  heard  these  bells  as  she 
watched  the  cradle,  Danish  T,  P,  Swedish  G  ; 
sat  by  the  cradle  and  sang,  T  4  ;  compare 
English  C  7.  She  asks  the  hill-man's  per- 
mission, and  it  is  granted  on  certain  terms  : 
she  is  not  to  talk  of  him  and  her  life  in  the 
hill,  Danish  B,  I,  Swedish  A,  F,  I,  is  to  come 
back,  Danish  F,  must  not  stay  longer  tlian  an 
hour  or  two,  Norwegian  D  ;  she  is  not  to  wear 
her  gold,  her  best  clothes,  not  to  let  out  her 
hair,  not  to  go  into  her  mother's  pew  at  the 
church,  not  to  bow  when  the  priest  pronounces 
the  holy  name,  or  make  an  ol?ering,  or  go  home 
after  service,  etc.,  Danish  I,  L-P,  T,  Noi'wegian 
F.  All  these  last  conditions  she  violates,  nor 
does  she  in  the  least  heed  the  injunction  not  to 
speak  of  the  hill-man.  The  consequence  is 
that  he  summarily  presents  himself,  whether 
at  the  church  or  the  paternal  mansion,  and  or- 
ders her  back  to  the  hill,  sometimes  striking 
her  on  the  ear  or  cheek  so  that  blood  runs,  or 
beating  her  with  a  rod,  Danish  E,  I,  L,  M,  S, 
T,  Swedish  A,  B,  C,  H,  I,  Norwegian  F.  In 
a  few  versions,  tlie  hill-man  tells  her  that  her 
children  are  crying  for  her,  and  she  replies. 
Let  them  cry  ;  I  will  never  go  back  to  the 
hill ;  Danish  M,  N,  O,  Norwegian  F.  In  Dan- 
ish B,  Swedish  Gr,  a  gold  apple  thrown  into 
her  lap  seems  to  compel  her  to  return  ;  more 
commonly  main  force  is  used.  She  is  carried 
dead  into  the  hill,  or  dies  immediately  on  her 
arrival,  in  Norwegian  F,  Danish  T ;  she  dies 
of  grief,  according  to  traditional  comment,  in 
Norwegian  D.  They  give  her  a  drink,  and 
her  heart  breaks,  Swedish  A,  G,  H,  M  ;  but 
elsewhere  the  drink  only  induces  forgetfulness, 
Danish  L,  M,  Swedish  B,  C,  F. 

Much  of  the  story  of  '  Jomfruen  og  Dvajr- 
gekongen  '  recurs  in  the  ballad  of  '  Agnete  og 
Havmanden,'  which,  for  our  purposes,  may  be 
treated  as  a  simple  variation  of  the  other. 
The  Norse  forms  are  again  numerous,  but 
all  from  broadsides  dating,  at  most,  a  century 
back,  or  from  recent  tradition. 

Danish.     '  Agnete  og  Havmanden,'  Grundt- 


vig.  No  88,  A-D,  II,  51  if,  656  ff.  III,  813  if. 
Copies  of  A  are  numerous,  and  two  had  been 
previously  printed ;  in  Danske  Viser,  I,  313, 
No  50,  and  "  in  Barfod's  Brage  og  Idun,  II, 
264."  B,  Rask's  Morskabslassning,  III,  81, 
Grundtvig,  II,  659.  F,  one  stanza,  Grundtvig, 
p.  660.  G,  H,  the  same,  III,  816.  I,  Kris- 
tensen,  II,  75,  No  28  C,  Grundtvig,  IV,  807. 
K,  Grundtvig,  IV,  808.* 

Swedish.  A,  B,  0,  in  Cavallius  and 
Stephens'  unprinted  collection,  described  by 
Grundtvig,  II,  661.  D, '  Agneta  och  Hafsman- 
nen,'  Eva  Wigstrom's  F'olkdiktning,  p.  9.  B, 
Bergstrom's  Afzelius,  II,  308.  F,  '  Skein 
Anna  och  Hafskungen,'  Aminson,  Bidrag  till 
Sddermanlands  jildre  Kulturhistoria,  ni,  43. 
G, '  Helena  och  Hafsmannen,'  the  same,  p.  46. 

Norwegian.  A,  Grundtvig,  III,  817,  prop- 
erly Danish  rather  than  Norwegian.  B,  a  ver- 
sion partly  described  at  p.  818.  C,  Grundt- 
vig, IV,  809,  also  more  Danish  than  Norwe- 
gian.    All  these  communicated  by  Bugge. 

Danish  C,  G,  Norwegian  A,  have  a  hill- 
man  instead  of  a  merman,  and  might  as  well 
have  been  put  with  the  other  ballad.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  Danish  versions  M,  N,  O  of 
'  The  Maid  and  the  Dwarf-King'  call  tlie  maid 
Agenet,  and  give  the  hill-man  a  name.  Nek, 
Netmand,  Mekmand,  which  implies  a  watery 
origin  for  him,  and  the  fragments  P,  Q,  R  have 
similar  names,  Nekmand,  Negen,  Laikkemand, 
as  also  Agenete,  and  might  as  well  have  been 
ranked  with  '  Agnes  and  the  Merman.'  In 
'  The  Maid  and  the  Dwarf-King,'  Swedish  L 
(one  stanza)  the  maid  is  taken  by  "  Pel  Elf- 
ven  "  to  the  sea. 

Agnes  goes  willingly  with  the  merman  to 
the  sea-bottom,  Danish  A,  D,  E,  K,  Swedish 
A,  D,  E,  Norwegian  A,  C.  She  lives  there, 
according  to  many  versions,  eight  years,  and 
has  seven  children.  As  she  is  sitting  and  sing- 
ing by  the  cradle  one  day,  she  hears  the  bells 
of  England,  Danish  A,  C,  D,  E,  H,  I,  K 
Swedish  D  [church  bells,  bells,  F,  G],  Nor- 
wegian   A,    C.     She  asks  if   she  may  go  to 


»  For  reasons,  doubtless  sufficient,  but  to  me  unknown,  other  versions,  nnd  may  be  a  niade-np  copy  ;  the  otlier, '  Ag- 

Grundtvig  has  not  noticed  two  copies  in  Boisen's  Nye  og  nete  og  15ja:iginauden,ira  Sanderjyiland,' consists  of  stanzas 

gamle  Viser,  10th  edition,  p.   192,  p.  194.     The  former  of  1-5  of  C. 
these  is  like  A,  with  more  resemblance  here  and  there  to 


41.    HIND  ETIN 


365 


church,  go  home,  and  receives  permission  on 
the  same  terms  as  in  the  other  ballad.  Her 
mother  asks  her  what  gifts  she  had  received, 
Danish  A,  D,  E,  H,  I,  Swedish  B,  P,  Nor- 
wegian C.  Wlien  the  merman  comes  into  the 
church  all  the  images  turn  their  backs,  Dan- 
ish A,  D,  K,  Swedish  D,  P,  G,  Norwegian  A, 
C  ;  and,  in  some  cases,  for  Agnes,  too.  He 
tells  her  that  the  children  are  crying  for  her  ; 
she  refuses  to  go  back,  Danish  A,  C,  D,  I,  K, 
Swedish  D,  P,  G  (and  apparently  A.  B,  C), 
Norwegian  C.  In  Norwegian  A  the  merman 
strikes  her  on  the  cheek,  and  she  returns  ;  in 
Danish  I  she  is  taken  back  quietly  ;  in  Danish 
C  he  gives  her  so  sore  an  ail  that  she  dies 
presently ;  in  Danish  H  she  is  taken  away  by 
force,  and  poisoned  by  her  children  ;  in  Danish 
K  the  merman  says  that  if  she  stays  with  her 
mother  they  must  divide  the  children  (five). 
He  takes  two,  she  two,  and  each  has  to  take 
half  of  the  odd  one. 

The  Norse  forms  of  'Agnes  and  the  Mer- 
man' are  conceded  to  have  been  derived  from 
Germany  :  see  Grundtvig,  IV,  812.  Of  the 
German  ballad,  which  is  somewhat  nearer  to 
the  English,  the  following  versions  have  been 
noted : 

A.  '  Die  schone  Agniese,'  Fiedler,  Volks- 
reime  und  Volkslieder  in  Anhalt-Dessau,  p. 
140,  No  1  =  Mittler,  No  653.  B.  '  Die  schone 
Agnese,'  Parisius,  Deutsche  Volkslieder  in  der 
Altmark  und  im  Magdeburgischen  gesammelt, 
p.  29,  No  8  B,  from  nearly  tlie  same  region 
as  A.  C.  Parisius,  p.  28,  No  8  A,  Peehau  on 
the  Elbe.  D.  '  Die  schone  Angnina,'  Erk's 
Neue  Sammlung,  ii,  40,  No  26  =  Mittler,  No 
552,  from  the  neighborhood  of  Magdeburg. 
E.  '  Die  Schone  Agnete,'  Erk's  Liederhort, 
No  16%  p.  47,  Erk's  Wunderhorn,  IV,  91, 
from  the  neighborhood  of  Guben.  P.  '  Die 
schone  Dorothea,'  Liederhort,  No  16^  p.  48, 
Gramzow  in  der  Ukermark.  G.  '  Die  schone 
Hannale,'  Liederhort,  No  16,  p.  44,  Erk's 
Wunderhorn,  IV,  87,  Silesia.  H.  '  Die  schone 
Hannele,'  Hoffmann  u.  Richter,  Schlesische 
Volkslieder,  p.  3,  No  1  =  Mittler,  No  551, 
Bohme,  No  90  A,  Breslau.  '  Der  Wasser- 
mann,'  Simrock,  No  1,  is  a  compounded  copy. 

A  wild  merman  has  become  enamored  of 


the  King  of  England's  daughter.  A,  B,  C,  D. 
He  plates  a  bridge  with  gold  ;  she  often  walks 
over  the  bridge  ;  it  sinks  with  lier  into  the 
water  [the  merman  drags  her  down  into  the 
water,  H].  She  stays  below  seven  years,  and 
bears  seven  sons.  One  day  [by  the  cradle, 
C,  G]  she  hears  the  bells  of  England,  A  6,  B, 
C,  D,  P  [bells,  B,  G,  H],  and  longs  to  go  to 
church.  She  expresses  this  wish  to  the  mer- 
man, C,  D,  G,  H.  The  merman  says  she  must 
take  her  seven  sons  with  her,  B,  C,  D ;  she 
must  come  back,  G,  H.  She  takes  her  seven 
sons  by  the  hand,  and  goes  with  them  to  Eng- 
land, A  5,  B  7  ;  cf.  Scottish  C  13,  14,  A  22, 
50.  When  she  enters  the  church  everything 
in  it  bows,  A,  B,  P.     Her  parents  are  there, 

C,  D ;  her  father  opens  the  pew,  her  mother 
lays  a  cushion  for  her,  G,  H.  As  she  goes 
out  of  the  church,  there  stands  the  merman, 
A,  B,  B,  P.     Her  parents  take  her  home  in 

D,  G,  H.  They  seat  her  at  the  table,  and 
while  she  is  eating,  a  gold  apple  falls  into  her 
lap  (cf. '  The  Maid  and  the  Dwarf-King,'  Dan- 
ish B,  Swedish  G),  which  she  begs  her  mother 
to  throw  into  the  fire  ;  the  merman  appears, 
and  asks  if  she  wislies  him  burnt,  G,  H.  The 
merman,  when  he  presents  himself  at  the 
church,  asks  whether  the  woman  will  go  back 
witii  him,  or  die  where  she  is,  and  she  prefers 
death  on  the  spot.  A,  B,  B.  In  the  other 
case,  he  says  that  if  she  will  not  return,  the 
children  must  be  divided, —  three  and  three, 
and  lialf  of  the  seventh  to  each ;  the  mother 
prefers  the  water  to  this.  D  has  a  peculiar 
and  not  very  happy  trait.  The  merman  fas- 
tens a  chain  to  his  wife's  foot  before  she  goes 
up,  and,  having  been  kept  long  waiting,  draws 
it  in.  But  the  people  at  the  church  have 
taken  off  the  chain,  and  he  finds  nothing  at 
the  end  of  it.  He  asks  whether  she  does  not 
wish  to  live  with  him ;  she  replies,  I  will  no 
longer  torment  you,  or  fret  myself  to  death. 

The  story  of  Agnes  and  the  Merman  occurs 
in  a  VVendish  ballad,  with  an  introductory 
scene  found  in  the  beautiful  German  ballad, 
'  Wassermanns  Braut : '  *  Haupt  und  Schma- 

•  See  five  ver.-iong  in  Mittler,  Nos  546-550.  As  Grundt- 
vig remarks,  what  is  one  ballad  in  Wendish  is  two  in  Ger- 
man and  tliree  in  Norse:  D.  g.  F.,  IV,  810. 


366 


41.     HIND   ETIN 


ler,  I,  62,  No  34.  A  maid  begs  that  she  may 
be  left  to  herself  for  a  year,  but  her  father 
says  it  is  time  for  her  to  be  married.  She 
goes  to  her  chamber,  weeps  and  wrings  her 
hands.  The  merman  comes  and  asks,  Where 
is  my  bride?  They  tell  him  that  she  is  in 
her  chamber,  weeping  and  wringing  her  hands. 
The  merman  asks  her  the  reason,  and  she  an- 
swers. They  all  say  that  you  are  the  mer- 
woman's  son.  He  says  he  will  build  her  a 
bridge  of  pure  silver  and  gold,  and  have  her 
driven  over  it  with  thirty  carriages  and  forty 
horses  ;  but  ere  she  has  half  passed  the  bridge 
it  goes  down  to  the  bottom.  She  is  seven 
years  below,  has  seven  sons  in  as  many  years, 
and  is  going  with  the  eighth.  She  implores 
her  husband  to  permit  her  to  go  to  church  in 
the  upper  world,  and  he  consents,  with  the 
proviso  that  she  shall  not  stay  for  the  bene- 
diction. At  church  she  sees  her  brother  and 
sister,  who  receive  her  kindly.  She  tells  them 
that  she  cannot  stay  till  the  benediction ;  *  they 
beg  her  to  come  home  to  dine  with  them.  She 
does  wait  till  the  benediction ;  the  merman 
rushes  frantically  about.  As  she  leaves  the 
church  and  is  saying  good-by  to  her  sister, 
she  meets  the  merman,  who  snatches  the 
youngest  child  from  her  (she  appears  to  have 
all  seven  with  her),  tears  it  in  pieces,  strangles 
the  rest,  scatters  their  limbs  on  the  road,  and 
hangs  himself,  asking,  Does  not  your  heart 
grieve  for  your  children  ?  She  answers,  I  grieve 
for  none  but  the  youngest.f 

A  Slovenian  ballad  has  the  story  with  mod- 
ifications, Achacel  and  Korytko,  Slov<3n|ke 
Pdsmi  krajnskiga  Nardda,  I,  30, J  '  Povodnji 
m6sh ; '  given  in  abstract  by  Haupt  and  Schma- 
ler,  I,  339,  note  to  No.  84.  Mizika  goes  to  a 
dance,  in  spite  of  her  mother's  forbidding. 
Her  mother,  in  a  rage,  wishes  that  the  mer- 
man may  fetch  her.  A  young  man  who  dances 
with  her  whirls  her  round  so  furiously  that 
she  complains,  but  he  becomes  still  more  vio- 

*  This  trait,  correspondiug  to  the  prohibition  in  the  Norse 
balUids  of  l)owing  when  the  holy  name  is  pronounced,  occurs 
frequently  in  tradition,  as  might  be  expected.  In  a  Swedish 
mernian-halliid,  '  Necken,'  Afzelius,  III,  133,  the  nix,  who 
has  attended  to  church  the  lady  whom  he  is  about  to  kidnap, 
makes  off  with  his  best  speed  when  the  priest  reads  the  ben- 
ediction.    See,  further,   Arnason'a  Islenzkar  f|jd5^6gur,  I, 


lent.  Mizika  sees  how  it  is,  and  exclaims. 
The  merman  has  come  for  me !  The  mer- 
man flies  out  of  the  window  with  her,  and 
plunges  into  the  water.  She  bears  a  son, 
and  asks  leave  to  pay  a  visit  to  her  mother  ; 
and  this  is  allowed  on  conditions,  one  of  which 
is  that  she  shall  not  expose  herself  to  a  bene- 
diction. She  does  not  conform,  and  the  mer- 
man comes  and  says  that  her  son  is  crying  for 
her.  She  refuses  to  go  with  himj  and  he  teai's 
the  boy  in  two,  that  each  may  have  a  half. 

Two  or  tliree  of  the  minuter  correspond- 
ences between  the  Scottish  and  the  Norse  or 
German  ballads,  which  have  not  been  referred 
to,  may  be  indicated  in  conclusion.  The  hill- 
man,  in  several  Norwegian  copies,  as  B,  M, 
carries  off  the  lady  on  liorseback,  and  so  Has- 
tings in  C.  In  A  34-39,  the  returned  sister, 
being  invited  to  dine,  cannot  eat  a  bit  or  drink 
a  drop.  So,  in  'The  Maid  and  the  Dwarf- 
King,'  Swedish  G  15,  16,  they  set  before 
Agnes  dishes  four  and  five,  dishes  eight  and 
nine,  but  she  can  take  nothing : 

Agneta  ej  smakte  en  endaste  bit. 

Young  Akin,  in  A  43,  is  found  in  the  wood, 
"  tearing  his  yellow  hair."  The  merman  has 
golden  hair  in  Danish  A  16,  Swedish  D  2,  19, 
Norwegian  A  17  (nothing  very  remarkable, 
certainly),  and  in  Danish  D  31  wrings  his 
hands  and  is  very  unhappy,  because  Agnes  re- 
fuses to  return.  It  is  much  more  important 
that  in  one  of  the  Swedish  copies  of  the  mer- 
man ballad,  Grundtvig,  II,  661  a,  we  find  a 
trace  of  the  '  Christendom '  which  is  made 
such  an  object  in  the  Scottish  ballads : 

'  Nay,'  said  the  mother,  '  now  thou  art  mine,' 
And  christened  her  with  water  and  with  wine. 

'  The  Maid  and  the  Dwarf-King,'  Danish 
E,  is  translated  by  Prior,  III,  338  ;  Swedish  A 
by  Stephens,  Foreign  Quarterly  Review, 
XXV,  35;   Swedish  C  by   Keightley,  Fairy 

73  f ;  Maurer's  Islandische  Volksagen,  19  f  ;  Liebrecht,  Ger- 
vasius,  p.  26,  LVII,  and  p.  125,  note  (Grundtvig). 

t  The  merfolk  are  apt  to  be  ferocious,  as  compared  with 
hill-jieople,  elves,  etc.  See  Grimm,  Deutsche  Mythologie, 
I,  409  f. 

t  I  79,  of  a  second  edition,  which,  says  Vraz,  has  an  ob- 
jectionable fantastic  spelling  due  to  the  publisher. 


41.    HIND  ETIN 


367 


Mythology,  p.  103.  '  Agnes  and  the  Mer- 
man,' Danish  A,  C,  by  Prior,  III,  332,  385 ; 
some  copy  of  A  by  Borrow,  p.  120  ;  0hlen- 
schteger's  ballad  by  Buchanan,  p.  76. 


Knortz,  Lieder  u.  Romanzen,  No  30  ;  A  1-8, 
C  6-14,  by  Rosa  Warrens,  Schottische  Volks- 
lieder.  No  2 ;  a  compounded  version  by  Roberts 
into  German   by  Podhorszki,  Acta  Compara- 


Scottish  B  is  translated,  after  Allingham,  by     tionis,  etc.,  VIII,  69-73 


Bnchan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  I,  6 ;  Mother- 
well's MS.,  p.  554. 

1  Lady  Maegaret  sits  in  her  bower  door, 

Sewing  at  her  silken  seam  ; 
She  heard  a  note  in  Ehnond's  wood, 
And  wishd  she  there  had  been. 

2  She  loot  the  seam  fa  frae  her  side, 

And  the  needle  to  her  tae, 
And  she  is  on  to  Ehnond's  wood 
As  fast  as  she  coud  gae. 

3  She  hadna  pu'd  a  nut,  a  nut, 

Nor  broken  a  branch  but  ane. 
Till  by  it  came  a  young  hind  chiel, 
Says,  Lady,  lat  alane. 

4  O  why  pu  ye  the  nut,  the  nut, 

Or  why  brake  ye  the  tree  ? 
For  I  am  forester  o  this  wood : 
Ye  shoud  spier  leave  at  me. 

5  '  I  'U  ask  leave  at  no  Uving  man, 

Nor  yet  will  I  at  thee  ; 
My  father  is  king  oer  a'  this  realm, 
This  wood  belongs  to  me.' 

6  She  hadna  pu'd  a  nut,  a  nut, 

Nor  broken  a  branch  but  three, 
Till  by  it  came  him  Young  Akin, 
And  gard  her  lat  them  be. 

7  The  highest  tree  in  Ehnond's  wood. 

He  's  pu'd  it  by  the  reet, 
And  he  has  built  for  her  a  bower, 
Near  by  a  hallow  seat. 

8  He  's  built  a  bower,  made  it  secure 

Wi  carbuncle  and  stane  ; 
Tho  travellers  were  never  sae  nigh, 
Appearance  it  had  nane. 


9  He  's  kept  her  there  in  Elmond's  wood. 
For  six  lang  years  and  one, 
Till  six  pretty  sons  to  him  she  bear, 
And  the  seventh  she  's  brought  home. 

10  It  feU  ance  upon  a  day, 

This  guid  lord  went  from  home, 
And  he  is  to  the  hunting  gane, 
Took  wi  him  his  eldest  son. 

11  And  when  they  were  on  a  guid  way, 

Wi  slowly  pace  did  walk, 
The  boy's  heart  being  something  wae. 
He  thus  began  to  talk : 

12  '  A  question  I  woud  ask,  father, 

Gin  ye  woudna  angry  be : ' 
'  Say  on,  say  on,  my  bonny  boy. 
Ye  'se  nae  be  quarrelld  by  me.' 

13  '  I  see  my  mither's  cheeks  aye  weet, 

I  never  can  see  them  dry ; 
And  I  wonder  what  aUeth  my  mither, 
To  mourn  continually.' 

14  'Your  mither  was  a  king's  daughter, 

Sprung  frae  a  high  degree. 
And  she  might  hae  wed  some  worthy  prince, 
Had  she  nae  been  stown  by  me. 

15  '  I  was  her  father's  cup-bearer, 

Just  at  that  fatal  time  ; 
I  catchd  her  on  a  misty  night. 
Whan  smnmer  was  in  prime. 

16  '  My  luve  to  her  was  most  sincere, 

Her  luve  was  great  for  me, 
But  when  she  hardships  doth  endure. 
Her  folly  she  does  see.' 

17  '  I  '11  shoot  the  buntin  o  the  bush, 

The  linnet  o  the  tree, 
And  bring  them  to  my  dear  mither, 
See  if  she  'U  merrier  be.' 


368 


41.    HIND  ETIN 


18  It  fell  upo  another  day, 

This  guid  lord  he  thought  lang, 
And  he  is  to  the  hunting  gane, 
Took  wi  him  his  dog  and  gun. 

19  Wi  how  and  arrow  by  his  side, 

He  's  atf,  single,  alane, 
And  left  his  seven  children  to  stay 
Wi  their  mither  at  hame. 

20  '  0  I  will  tell  to  you,  mither, 

Gin  ye  wadna  angry  be  : ' 
'  Speak  on,  speak  on,  my  little  wee  boy, 
Ye  'se  nae  be  quarrelld  by  me.' 

21  '  As  we  came  frae  the  hynd-hunting. 

We  heard  fine  music  ring  : ' 
'  My  blessings  on  you,  my  bonny  boy, 
I  wish  I  'd  been  there  my  lane.' 

22  He  's  taen  his  mither  by  the  hand. 

His  six  brithers  also, 
And  they  are  on  thro  Elmond's  wood, 
As  fast  as  they  coud  go. 

23  They  wistna  weel  where  they  were  gaen, 

Wi  the  stratlins  o  their  feet ; 
They  wistna  weel  where  they  were  gaen, 
TiU  at  her  father's  yate. 

24  '  I  hae  nae  money  in  my  pocket, 

But  royal  rings  hae  three  ; 
I  'U  gie  them  you,  my  little  young  son, 
And  ye  'U  walk  there  for  me. 

25  '  Ye  '11  gie  the  first  to  the  proud  porter. 

And  he  will  lat  you  in ; 
Ye  'U  gie  the  next  to  the  butler-boy, 
And  he  wUl  show  you  ben  ; 

26  '  Ye  '11  gie  the  third  to  the  minstrel 

That  plays  before  the  king  ; 
He  '11  play  success  to  the  bonny  boy 
Came  thro  the  wood  him  lane.' 

27  He  gae  the  first  to  the  proud  porter, 

And  he  opend  an  let  him  in ; 

He  gae  the  next  to  the  butler-boy. 

And  he  has  shown  him  ben  ; 

28  He  gae  the  third  to  the  minstrel 

That  playd  before  the  king  ; 


And  he  playd  success  to  the  bonny  boy 
Came  thro  the  wood  him  lane. 

29  Now  when  he  came  before  the  king, 

Fell  low  down  on  his  knee ; 
The  king  he  turned  round  about. 
And  the  saut  tear  blinded  his  ee. 

30  '  Win  up,  win  up,  my  bonny  boy. 

Gang  frae  my  companie  ; 
Ye  look  sae  like  my  dear  daughter. 
My  heart  wUl  birst  in  three.' 

31  '  If  I  look  like  your  dear  daughter, 

A  wonder  it  is  none ; 
If  I  look  like  your  dear  daughter, 
I  am  her  eldest  son.' 

32  '  Will  ye  tell  me,  ye  little  wee  boy. 

Where  may  my  Margaret  be  ?  ' 
'  She  's  just  now  standing  at  your  yates, 
And  my  six  brithers  her  wi.' 

33  '  O  where  are  all  my  porter-boys 

That  I  pay  meat  and  fee, 
To  open  my  yates  baith  wide  and  braid  ? 
Let  her  come  in  to  me.' 

34  When  she  came  in  before  the  king. 

Fell  low  down  on  her  knee  ; 
'  Win  up,  win  up,  my  daughter  dear. 
This  day  ye  '11  dine  wi  me.' 

35  '  Ae  bit  I  canno  eat,  father. 

Nor  ae  drop  can  I  drink. 
Till  I  see  my  mither  and  sister  dear, 
For  lang  for  them  I  think.' 

36  When  she  came  before  the  queen, 

Fell  low  down  on  her  knee  ; 
'  Win  up,  win  up,  my  daughter  dear 
This  day  ye  'se  dine  wi  me.' 

37  '  Ae  bit  I  canno  eat,  mither. 

Nor  ae  drop  can  I  drink. 
Until  I  see  my  dear  sister. 
For  lang  for  her  I  think.' 

38  When  that  these  two  sisters  met. 

She  haild  her  courteouslie ; 
'  Come  ben,  come  ben,  my  sister  dear, 
This  day  ye  'se  dine  wi  me.' 


41.     HIND   ETIN 


369 


39  '  Ae  bit  I  canno  eat,  sister, 

Nor  ae  drop  can  I  drink, 

Until  I  see  my  dear  husband, 

For  lang  for  him  I  think.' 

40  '  0  where  are  all  my  rangers  bold 

That  I  pay  meat  and  fee, 
To  search  the  forest  far  an  wide, 
And  bring  Akin  to  me  ?  ' 

41  Out  it  speaks  the  little  wee  boy : 

Na,  na,  this  maunna  be ; 
Without  3'e  grant  a  free  pardon, 
I  hope  ye  'U  nae  him  see. 

42  '  O  here  I  grant  a  free  pardon, 

Well  seald  by  my  own  ban  ; 
Ye  may  make  search  for  Young  Akin, 
As  soon  as  ever  you  can.' 

43  They  searchd  the  country  wide  and  braid. 

The  forests  far  and  near, 
And  found  him  into  Elmond's  wood, 
Tearing  his  yellow  hair. 

44  '  Win  up,  win  np  now,  Yoimg  Akin, 

Win  up,  and  bovm  wi  me  ; 
We  're  messengers  come  from  the  court, 
The  king  wants  you  to  see.' 

45  '  O  lat  him  take  frae  me  my  head, 

Or  hang  me  on  a  tree ; 
For  since  I  've  lost  my  dear  lady. 
Life  's  no  pleasure  to  me.' 

46  '  Your  head  will  nae  be  touchd.  Akin, 

Nor  hangd  upon  a  tree  ; 
Your  lady  's  in  her  father's  court. 
And  all  he  wants  is  thee.' 


47  When  he  came  in  before  the  king. 

Fell  low  down  on  his  knee  ; 
'  Win  up,  win  up  now.  Young  Akin, 
This  day  ye  'se  dine  wi  me.' 

48  But  as  they  were  at  dinner  set. 

The  boy  asked  a  boun  : 
'  I  wish  we  were  in  the  good  churcli, 
For  to  get  christendoun. 

49  '  We  hae  lived  in  guid  green  wood 

This  seven  years  and  ane  ; 
But  a'  this  time,  since  eer  I  mind. 
Was  never  a  church  within.' 

50  '  Your  asking  's  nae  sae  great,  my  boy. 

But  granted  it  shall  be  ; 
This  day  to  guid  church  ye  shall  gang. 
And  your  mither  shall  gang  you  wi.' 

51  When  unto  the  guid  church  she  came, 

She  at  the  door  did  stan  ; 
She  was  sae  sair  sunk  down  wi  shame. 
She  coudna  come  farer  ben. 

62  Then  out  it  speaks  the  parish  priest, 

And  a  sweet  smile  gae  he  : 
'  Come  ben,  come  ben,  my  lily  flower, 
Present  your  babes  to  me.' 

63  Charles,  Vincent,  Sam  and  Dick, 

And  likewise  James  and  John ; 
They  calld  the  eldest  Young  Akin, 
Which  was  his  father's  name. 

54  Then  they  staid  in  the  royal  court, 
And  livd  wi  mirth  and  glee, 
And  when  her  father  was  deceasd, 
Heir  of  the  crown  was  she. 


Kinloch's  Ancient  Scottish  Ballads,  p.  228. 

1  May  Margeet  stood  in  her  bouer  door, 

Kaiming  doun  her  yellow  hair  ; 
She  spied  some  nuts  growin  in  the  wud, 
And  wishd  that  she  was  there. 

2  She  has  plaited  her  yellow  locks 

A  little  abime  her  bree, 

47 


And  she  has  kilted  her  petticoats 
A  little  below  her  knee. 

And  she 's  aff  to  Mulberry  wud, 
As  fast  as  she  could  gae. 

3  She  had  na  pu'd  a  nut,  a  nut, 
A  nut  but  barely  ane. 
Till  up  started  the  Hynde  Etin, 
Says,  Lady,  let  thae  alane ! 


370 


41.    HIND  BTIN 


4  '  Mulberry  wuds  are  a'  my  ain ; 
My  father  gied  them  me, 
To  sport  and  play  when  I  thought  lang ; 
And  they  saU  na  be  tane  by  thee.' 

6  And  ae  she  pu'd  the  tither  berrie, 
Na  thinking  o'  the  skaith, 
And  said,  To  wrang  ye,  Hynde  Etin, 
I  wad  be  unco  laith. 

6  But  he  has  tane  her  by  the  yellow  locks, 

And  tied  her  till  a  tree, 
And  said.  For  slichting  my  commands, 
An  ill  death  sail  ye  dree. 

7  He  pu'd  a  tree  out  o  the  wud. 

The  biggest  that  was  there. 
And  he  howkit  a  cave  monie  fathoms  deep. 
And  put  May  Margret  there. 

8  '  Now  rest  ye  there,  ye  saucie  may  ; 

My  wuds  are  free  for  thee  ; 
And  gif  I  tak  ye  to  myseU, 
The  better  ye  '11  like  me.' 

9  Na  rest,  na  rest  May  Margret  took. 

Sleep  she  got  never  nane  ; 
Her  back  lay  on  the  cauld,  cauld  floor. 
Her  head  upon  a  stane. 

10  '  0  tak  me  out,'  May  Margret  cried, 

'  O  tak  me  hame  to  thee. 
And  I  sail  be  your  bounden  page 
Until  the  day  I  dee.' 

11  He  took  her  out  o  the  dungeon  deep, 

And  awa  wi  him  she  's  gane  ; 
But  sad  was  the  day  an  earl's  dochter 
Gaed  hame  wi  Hynde  Etin. 


12  It  fell  out  ance  upon  a  day 

Hynde  Etin 's  to  the  hunting  gane. 
And  he  has  tane  wi  him  his  eldest  son, 
For  to  carry  his  game. 

13  '  O  I  wad  ask  ye  something,  father. 

An  ye  wadna  angry  be  ; ' 
*  Ask  on,  ask  on,  my  eldest  son, 
Ask  onie  thing  at  me.' 

14  '  My  mother's  cheeks  are  aft  times  weet, 

Alas  !  they  are  seldom  dry  ; ' 
'  Na  wonder,  na  wonder,  my  eldest  son, 
Tho  she  should  brast  and  die. 

15  '  For  your  mother  was  an  earl's  dochter. 

Of  noble  birth  and  fame. 
And  now  she 's  wife  o  Hynde  Etin, 
Wha  neer  got  christendame. 

16  '  But  we  'U  shoot  the  laverock  in  the  lift. 

The  buntlin  on  the  tree. 
And  ye  '11  tak  them  hame  to  your  mother. 
And  see  if  she  'U  comforted  be.' 


17  '  I  wad  ask  ye  something,  mother, 

An  ye  wadna  angry  be  ; ' 
'  Ask  on,  ask  on,  my  eldest  son. 
Ask  onie  thing  at  me.' 

18  '  Your  cheeks  they  are  aft  times  weet, 

Alas  !  they  're  seldom  dry  ; ' 
'  Na  wonder,  na  wonder,  my  eldest  son, 
Tho  I  should  brast  and  die. 

19  '  For  I  was  ance  an  earl's  dochter, 

Of  noble  birth  and  fame. 
And  now  I  am  the  wife  of  Hynde  Etin, 
Wha  neer  got  christendame.' 


Buchan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  II,  67,  com- 
municated by  Mr  James  Nicol,  of  Strichen  ;  Motherwell's 
Minstrelsy,  p.  287  ;  Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  450. 

1  '  O  WELL  like  I  to  ride  in  a  mist. 
And  shoot  in  a  northern  win. 


And  far  better  a  lady  to  steal. 
That 's  come  of  a  noble  kin.' 

2  Four  an  twenty  fair  ladies 
Put  on  this  lady's  sheen. 
And  as  mony  young  gentlemen 
Did  lead  her  ower  the  green. 


42.    CLERK   COLVILL 


371 


3  Yet  she  preferred  before  them  all 

Him,  young  Hastings  the  Groom  ; 
He  's  coosten  a  mist  before  them  all, 
And  away  this  lady  has  taen. 

4  He 's  taken  the  lady  on  him  behind, 

Spared  neither  grass  nor  corn, 
Till  they  came  to  the  wood  o  Amonshaw, 
Where  again  their  loves  were  sworn. 

5  And  they  hae  lived  in  that  wood 

Full  mony  a  year  and  day. 
And  were  supported  from  time  to  time 
By  what  he  made  of  prey. 

6  And  seven  bairns,  fair  and  fine, 

There  she  has  bom  to  him, 
And  never  was  in  gude  church-door. 
Nor  ever  got  gude  kirking. 

7  Ance  she  took  harp  into  her  hand, 

And  harped  them  a'  asleep. 
Then  she  sat  down  at  their  couch-side, 
And  bitterly  did  weep. 

8  Said,  Seven  bairns  hae  I  bom  now 

To  my  lord  in  the  ha ; 
T  wish  they  were  seven  greedy  rats, 

To  run  upon  the  wa, 
And  I  mysel  a  great  grey  cat, 

To  eat  them  ane  and  a'. 


9  For  ten  lang  years  now  I  hae  lived 
Within  this  cave  of  stane, 
And  never  was  at  gude  church-door, 
Nor  got  no  gude  churching. 

10  O  then  out  spake  her  eldest  child. 

And  a  fine  boy  was  he  : 
0  hold  your  tongue,  my  mother  dear ; 
I  '11  tell  you  what  to  dee. 

11  Take  you  the  youngest  in  your  lap, 

The  next  youngest  by  the  hand, 
Put  all  the  rest  of  us  you  before. 
As  you  learnt  us  to  gang. 

12  And  go  with  us  unto  some  kirk  — 

You  say  they  are  built  of  stane  — 
And  let  us  all  be  christened. 
And  you  get  gude  kirking. 

13  She  took  the  youngest  in  her  lap. 

The  next  youngest  by  the  hand, 
Set  all  the  rest  of  them  her  before, 
As  she  learnt  them  to  gang. 

14  And  she  has  left  the  wood  with  them, 

And  to  the  kirk  has  gane. 
Where  the  gude  priest  them  christened. 
And  gave  her  gude  kirking. 


O.  Motherwell's  copies  exhibit  Jive  or  six  slight  variations  from  Buchan. 


42 
CLERK  COLYILL 

A.  '  Clark  Colven,'  from  a  transcript  of  No  13  of  Wil-      C.   W.  F.  in  Notes  and  Queries,  Fourth  Series,  VIII, 
liam  Tytler's  Brown  MS.  510,  from  the  recitation  of  a  lady  in  Forfarshire. 

B.  '  Clerk  Colvill,  or,  The  Mermaid,'  Herd's  Ancient 
and  Modem  Scots  Songs,  1 769,  p.  302. 


Although,  as  has  been  already  said,  Wil-     be  found,  a  copy  of  two  of  its  fifteen  ballads 
liam  Tytler's  Brown  manuscript  is  now  not  to     has  been  preserved  in  the  Fraser  Tytler  family, 


372 


42.     CLERK   COLVILL 


and  'Clerk  Colvill,'  A  ('Clark  Colven ')  is 
one  of  the  two.*  This  ballad  is  not  in  Jamie- 
son's  Brown  manuscript.  Rewritten  by  Lewis, 
A  was  published  in  Tales  of  Wonder,  1801, 
II,  445,  No  66.  B,  1769,  is  the  earliest  printed 
English  copy,  but  a  corresponding  Danish  bal- 
lad antedates  its  publication  by  seventy-five 
years.  Of  C,  W.  F.,  who  communicated  it  to 
Notes  and  Queries,  says :  "  I  have  reason  to 
believe  that  it  is  originally  from  the  same 
source  as  that  from  which  Scott,  and  es- 
pecially Jamieson,  derived  many  of  their  best 
ballads."  This  source  should  be  no  other  than 
Mrs  Brown,  who  certainly  may  have  known 
two  versions  of  Clerk  Colvill ;  but  C  is  mark- 
edly different  from  A.  An  Abbotsford  man- 
uscript, entitled  "  Scottish  Songs,"  has,  at  fol. 
3,  a  version  which  appears  to  have  been  made 
up  from  Lewis's  copy,  its  original.  A,  and 
Herd's,  B. 

All  the  English  versions  are  deplorably  im- 
perfect, and  C  is  corrupted,  besides.  The  story 
which  they  afford  is  this.  Clerk  Colvill,  newly 
married  as  we  may  infer,  is  solemnly  entreated 
by  his  gay  lady  never  to  go  near  a  well-fared 
may  who  haunts  a  certain  spring  or  water. 
It  is  clear  that  before  his  marriage  he  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  resorting  to  this  mer- 
maid, as  she  is  afterwards  called,  and  equally 
clear,  from  tlie  impatient  answer  which  he  ren- 
ders his  dame,  that  he  means  to  visit  her  again. 
His  coming  is  hailed  with  pleasure  by  the 
mermaid,  who,  in  the  course  of  their  interview, 
does  something  which  gives  him  a  strange 
pain  in  the  head,  —  a  pain  only  increased  by 
a  prescription  which   she    pretends  will  cure 

•  "  From  a  MS.  in  my  grandfather's  writing,  with  the 
following  note  :  Copied  from  an  old  MS.  in  the  possession  of 
Alexander  Fraser  Tytlcr."  Note  of  Miss  Mary  Fraser  Tyt- 
ler.  The  first  stanza  agrees  with  that  which  is  cited  from 
the  original  by  Dr  Anderson  in  Nichols's  Illustrations,  "VII, 
177,  and  the  number  of  stanzas  is  the  same. 

Colvill,  which  has  become  familiar  from  Herd's  copy,  is 
the  correct  form,  and  Colven,  Colvin,  a  vulgarized  one,  which 
in  C  lapses  into  Colin. 

t  Still,  though  these  particular  verses  appear  to  have  come 
from  '  The  Drowned  Lovers,'  they  may  represent  other 
original  ones  which  were  to  the  same  effect.  See,  further 
on,  the  beginning  of  some  Faroe  versions. 

X  Hoc  equidem  a  viris  omni  exceptione  majoribus  quotidie 
scimus  probatum,  quod  quosdam  hujusmodi  larvarum  quas 
fadas  nominant  amatores  audivimus,  et  cum  ad  aliarum  foe- 


it,  and,  as  she  then  exultingly  tells  him,  sure 
to  grow  worse  until  he  is  dead.  He  draws 
his  sword  on  her,  but  she  merrily  springs  into 
the  water.  He  mounts  his  horse,  rides  home 
tristful,  alights  heavily,  and  bids  his  mother 
make  his  bed,  for  all  is  over  with  him. 

C  is  at  the  beginning  blended  with  verses 
which  belong  to  '  Willie  and  May  Margaret,' 
Jamieson,  I,  135  (from  Mrs  Brown's  recita- 
tion), or  '  The  Drowned  Lovers,'  Buchan,  I, 
140.  In  this  ballad  a  mother  adjures  her  son 
not  to  go  wooing,  under  pain  of  her  curse.  He 
goes,  nevertheless,  and  is  drowned.  It  is  obvi- 
ous, without  remark,  that  the  band  and  belt  in 
C  1  do  not  suit  the  mother ;  neither  does  the 
phrase  '  love  Colin  '  in  the  second  stanza.f  C 
9-11  afford  an  important  variation  from  the 
other  versions.  The  mermaid  appears  at  the 
foot  of  the  young  man's  bed,  and  offers  him 
a  choice  between  dying  then  and  living  with 
her  in  the  water.  (See  the  Norwegian  bal- 
lads at  p.  377.) 

Clei"k   Colvill  is   not,  as  his  representative 
is  or  may  be  in  other  ballads,  the  guiltless  and 
guileless  object  of  the  love  or  envy  of  a  water- 
sprite  or  elf.     His  relations  with  the  mermaid 
began  before  his  marriage  with  his  gay  lady, 
and  his  death  is  the  natural  penalty  of  his 
desertion  of  the  water-nymph  ;  for  no  point  is 
better  established  than  the  fatal  consequences 
of  inconstancy  in  such  connections.  J     His  his-  i 
tory,  were  it  fully  told,  would  closely  resemble  ' 
that  of  the  Knight  of  Staufenberg,  as  narrated  1  / 
in  a  German  poem  of  about  the  year  1300.§ 

The  already  very  distinguished  chevalier, 
Peter  Diemringer,  of  Staufenberg  (in  the  Or- 

minarum  matrimonia  se  transtulerunt,  ante  mortuos  quam 
cum  superinductis  cainali  se  copula  immiscuerunt.  Ues 
Gervasius  von  Tilbury  Otia  Imperialia  (of  about  1211),  Lieb- 
recht,  p.  41. 

§  ])er  Ritter  von  Stauffenberg,  from  a  MS.  of  perhaps 
1437,  C.  M.  Engelhardt,  Strassburg,  1823.  Edited  by  Oskar 
Janicke,  in  Altdeutsche  Studien  von  O.  Janicke,  E.  Stein- 
meyer,  W.  Wilmanns,  Berlin,  1871.  Die  Legende  vom  Rit- 
ter Herrn  Peter  Diemringer  von  Staufenberg  in  der  Orteuau, 
reprint  by  F.  Culemann  of  the  Strassburg  edition  of  Mar- 
tin Schott,  1480-82.  The  old  printed  copy  was  made  over 
by  Fischart  in  1588  (Jobin,  Strassburg,  in  that  year),  and 
this  '  ernewerte  Beschreibung  der  alten  Geschicht'  is  re- 
hashed in  seven  '  Romanzen  '  iu  Wunderhorn,  I,  407-1 8,  ed. 
1806,  401-12,  ed.  1853.  Simrock,  Die  deutschen  Volks- 
bucher.  III,  1-48. 


42.    CLERK  COLVILL 


373 


tenau,  Baden,  four  leagues  from  Strassburg), 
when  riding  to  mass  one  Whitsunday,  saw  a 
lady  of  surpassing  beauty,  di'essed  with  equal 
magnificence,  sitting  on  a  rock  by  the  wayside. 
He  became  instantaneously  enamored,  and, 
greeting  the  lady  in  terms  expressive  of  his 
admiration,  received  no  discouraging  reply. 
The  lady  rose ;  the  knight  sprang  from  his 
horse,  took  a  hand  which  she  offered,  helped 
her  from  the  rock,  and  they  sat  down  on  the 
grass.  The  knight  asked  how  she  came  to  be 
there  alone.  The  lady  replied  that  she  had 
been  waiting  for  him  :  ever  since  he  could  be- 
stride a  horse  she  had  been  devoted  to  him ; 
she  had  been  his  help  and  protection  in  tour- 
neys and  fights,  in  all  climes  and  regions, 
though  he  had  never  seen  her.  The  knight 
wished  he  might  ever  be  hers.  He  could  have 
his  wish,  she  said,  and  never  know  trouble  or 
sickness,  on  one  condition,  and  that  was  that 
he  never  should  marry :  if  he  did  this,  he  would 
die  in  three  days.  He  vowed  to  be  hers  as 
long  as  he  lived  ;  they  exchanged  kisses,  and 
then  she  bade  him  mount  his  horse  and  go  to 
mass.  After  the  benediction  he  was  to  return 
home,  and  when  he  was  alone  in  his  chamber, 
and  wished  for  her,  she  would  come,  and  so 
always  ;  that  privilege  God  had  given  her  : 
"swSi  ich  wil,  dfi,  bin  ich."  They  had  their 
meeting  when  he  returned  from  church :  he 
redoubled  his  vows,  she  promised  him  all  good 
things,  and  the  bounties  which  he  received 
from  her  overflowed  upon  all  his  friends  and 
comrades. 

The  knight  now  undertook  a  chivalrous 
tour,  to  see  such  parts  of  the  world  as  he  liad 
not  visited  before.  Wherever  he  went,  the  fair 
lady  had  only  to  be  wished  for  and  she  was  by 
him :  there  was  no  bound  to  her  love  or  her 
gifts.  Upon  his  return  he  was  beset  by  rela- 
tives and  friends,  and  urged  to  marry.  He 
put  them  off  with  excuses :  he  was  too  young 
to  sacrifice  his  freedom,  and  what  not.  They 
returned  to  the  charge  before  long,  and  set  a 
wise  man  of  his  kindred  at  him  to  beg  a  boon 
of  him.  "  Anything,"  he  said,  "  but  mar- 
rying: rather  cut  me  into  strips  than  that." 
Having  silenced  his  advisers  by  this  reply,  he 
went  to   his   closet  and  wished  for  his  lady. 


She  was  full  of  sympathy,  and  thought  it 
might  make  his  position  a  little  easier  if  he 
should  tell  his  officious  friends  something  of 
the  real  case,  how  he  had  a  wife  who  attended 
him  wherever  he  went  and  was  the  source  of 
all  his  prosperity  ;  but  he  must  not  let  them 
persuade  him,  or  what  she  had  predicted  would 
surely  come  to  pass. 

At  this  time  a  king  was  to  be  chosen  at 
Frankfurt,  and  all  the  nobility  flocked  thither, 
and  among  them  Staufenberg,  with  a  splendid 
train.  He,  as  usual,  was  first  in  all  tourneys, 
and  made  himself  remarked  for  his  liberal 
gifts  and  his  generous  consideration  of  youth- 
ful antagonists:  his  praise  was  in  everybody's 
mouth.  The  king  sent  for  him,  and  offered 
him  an  orphan  niece  of  eighteen,  with  a  rich 
dowry.  The  knight  excused  himself  as  un- 
worthy of  such  a  match.  The  king  said  his 
niece  must  accept  such  a  husband  as  he  pleased 
to  give,  and  many  swore  that  Staufenberg  was 
a  fool.  Bishops,  who  were  there  in  plenty, 
asked  him  if  he  had  a  wife  already.  Staufen- 
berg availed  himself  of  the  leave  which  had 
been  given  him,  and  told  his  whole  story,  not 
omitting  that  he  was  sure  to  die  in  three  days 
if  he  married.  "  Let  me  see  the  woman,"  said 
one  of  the  bishops.  "  She  lets  nobody  see  her 
but  me,"  answered  Staufenberg.  "  Then  it  is 
a  devil,"  said  another  of  the  clergy,  "  and  your 
soul  is  lost  forever."  Staufenberg  yielded,  and 
said  he  would  do  the  king's  will.  He  was 
betrothed  that  very  hour,  and  set  out  for  Or- 
tenau,  where  he  had  appointed  the  celebration 
of  the  nuptials.  When  night  came  he  wished 
for  the  invisible  lady.  She  appeared,  and  told 
him  with  all  gentleness  that  he  must  prepare 
for  the  fate  of  which  she  had  forewarned  him, 
a  fate  seemingly  inevitable,  and  not  the  con- 
sequence of  her  resentment.  At  the  wedding 
feast  she  would  display  her  foot  in  sight  of  all 
the  guests :  when  he  saw  that,  let  him  send 
for  the  priest.  The  knight  thought  of  what 
the  clergy  had  said,  and  that  this  might  be  a 
cheat  of  the  devil.  The  bride  was  brought 
to  Staufenberg,  the  feast  was  held,  but  at  the 
very  beginning  of  it  a  foot  whiter  than  ivory 
was  seen  through  the  ceiling. '  Staufenberg 
tore  his  hair  and  cried,  Friends,  ye  have  ruined 


874 


42.    CLERK   COLVILL 


yourselves  and  me  !  He  begged  his  bride  and 
all  who  had  come  with  her  to  the  wedding  to 
stay  for  his  funeral,  ordered  a  bed  to  be  pre- 
pared for  him  and  a  priest  to  be  sent  for.  He 
asked  his  brothers  to  give  his  bride  all  that  he 
had  promised  her.  But  she  said  no ;  his  friends 
should  rather  have  all  that  she  had  brought ; 
she  would  have  no  other  husband,  and  since 
she  had  been  the  cause  of  his  death  she  would 
go  into  a  cloister,  where  no  eye  should  see 
her :  which  she  did  after  she  had  returned  to 
her  own  country. 

A  superscription  to  the  old  poem  denomi- 
nates Staufenberg's  amphibious  consort  a  mer- 
fey,  sea-fairy;  but  that  description  is  not  to 
be  strictly  interpreted,  no  more  than  mer-fey, 
or  fata  morgana,  is  in  some  other  romantic 
'  tales.  There  is  nothing  of  the  water-sprite  in 
her,  nor  is  she  spoken  of  by  any  such  name 
in  the  poem  itself.  The  local  legends  of  sixty 
years  ago,*  and  perhaps  still,  make  her  to  have 
been  a  proper  water-nymph.  She  is  first  met 
with  by  the  young  knight  near  a  spring  or  a 
brook,  and  it  is  in  a  piece  of  water  that  he 
finds  his  death,  and  that  on  the  evening  of  his 
wedding  day. 

Clei"k  Colvill  and  the  mermaid  are  repre- 
sented by  Sir  Oluf  and  an  elf  in  Scandinavian 
ballads  to  the  number  of  about  seventy.  The 
oldest  of  these  is  derived  from  a  Danish  man- 
uscript of  1550,  two  centuries  and  a  half  later 
than  the  Staufenbei'g  poem,  but  two  earlier 
than  Clerk  Colvill,  the  oldest  ballad  outside 
of  the  Scandinavian  series.  Five  other  ver- 
sions are  of  the  date  1700,  or  earlier,  the  rest 
from  tradition  of  this  century.  No  ballad 
has  received  more  attention  from  the  heroic 
Danish  editor,  whose  study  of  '  Elveskud ' 
presents  an  admirably  ordered  synoptic  view 
of  all  the  versions  known  up  to  1881 :  Grundt- 
vig,  No  47,  II,  109-19,  663-66  ;  III,  824-26  ; 
IV,  835-74.1 

The  Scandinavian  versions  are : 
Faroe,  four:  A,  39  sts,  B,  24  sts,  C,  18  sts, 
D,  23  sts,  Grundtvig,  IV,  849-52. 


Icelandic,  twelve,  differing  slightly  except 
at  the  very  end:  A,  '  KvgeSi  af  6lafi  Li]jur6s,' 
24  sts,  MS.  of  1665 ;  B,  C,  MS.  of  about  1700, 
20  sts,  1  St. ;  D,  18  sts  ;  E,  17  sts ;  P,  G,  16  sts  ; 
H,  '  (5lafs  kvajSi,'  22  sts  ;  la,  18  sts  ;  I  b, 
20  sts ;  K,  22  sts ;  L,  24  sts  ;  M,  25  sts. 
These  in  Islenzk  fornkvseSi,  pp  4-10,  A  a 
in  full,  but  only  the  variations  of  the  other 
versions.  I  b,  previously,  '  6lafur  og  dlfa- 
mger,'  Berggreen,  Danske  Folke-Sange  og  Me- 
lodier,  2d  ed.,  pp  56,  57,  No  20  d ;  and  M, 
»  Sn6t,  p.  200." 

Danish,  twenty-six :  '  Elveskud '  A,  54  sts, 
MS.  of  1550,  Grundtvig,  II,  112  ;  B,  25  sts, 
Syv  No  87  (1695),  Danske  Viser,  I,  237, 
Grundtvig,  II,  114 ;  C,  29  sts,  the  same,  II, 
115;  D  a,  D  b,  31,  15  sts,  II,  116,  665; 
E-G,  20,  16,  8  sts,  II,  117-19;  H,  I,  32,  25 
sts,  II,  663-64 ;  K,  29  sts,  L,  15  sts,  M,  27 
sts,  N,  16  sts,  O,  33  sts,  P,  22  sts,  Q,  7  sts, 
R,  22  sts,  S,  32  sts,  T,  27  sts,  U,  25  sts, 
V,  18  sts,  X,  11  sts,  Y,  11  sts,  Z,  8  sts,  ^, 
23  sts,  IV,  835-47  ;  0,  10  sts,  Boisen,  Nye  og 
gamle  Viser,  1875,  p.  191,  No  98. 

Swedish,  eight:  A,  15  sts, '  Elf-Qvinnan  och 
Herr  Olof,'  MS.  of  seventeenth  century,  Af- 
zelius,  III,  165  ;  B,  12  sts,  '  Herr  Olof  i  Elf- 
vornas  dans,'  Afzelius,  III,  160  ;  C,  18  sts, 
Afzelius,  III,  162 ;  D,  21  sts,  '  Herr  Olof  och 
Elfvorna,'  Arwidsson,  II,  304  ;  E,  20  sts,  Ar- 
widsson,  II,  307  ;  P,  19  sts,  Grundtvig,  IV, 
848;  G,  12  sts,  'Herr  Olof  och  Elffrun,' 
Djurklou,  p.  94  ;  H,  8  sts,  Afzelius,  Sago-Haf- 
der,  ed.  1844,  ii,  157. 

Norwegian,  eighteen  :  A,  39  sts,  '  Olaf 
Liljukrans,'  Landstad,  p.  355  ;  B,  15  sts, 
Landstad,  p.  843 ;  C-S,  collections  of  Professor 
Bugge,  used  in  manuscript  by  Grundtvig ;  C, 
36  sts,  partly  printed  in  Grundtvig,  HI,  824  ; 
D,  23  sts,  Grundtvig,  HI,  824-25,  partly ;  B, 
22  sts ;  F,  11  sts  ;  G,  27  sts  ;  H,  13  sts  ;  I, 
7  sts  ;  K,  4  sts,  two  printed,  ib.,  p.  824.| 

Of  these  the  Fiirbe  versions  are  nearest  to 
the  English.  Olaf's  mother  asks  him  whither 
he  means  to  ride ;   his  corselet  is  hanging  in 


/ 


■y 


*  Engelhardt,  pp  6,  13  f:  Sagen  aus  Baden  und  der  Um- 
gegend,  Carlsruhe,  1834,  pp  107-122. 

t  Separately  printed,  under  the  title,  Elveskud,  dansk, 
8ven8k,  norsk,   fseresk,  islandsk,  skotsk,  vendisk,  bamisk. 


tysk,  fransk,  italiensk,  katalonsk,  spansk,  bretonsk  Folke- 
vise,  i  overblik  ved  Svend  Grundtvig.     Kjabenhavn,  1881. 
X  All  the  Norse  versions  are  in  two-line  stanzas. 


42.    CLERK   OOLVILL 


375 


the  loft ;  A,  C,  D.  "I  am  going  to  the  heath, 
to  course  the  hind,"  he  says.  "  You  are  not 
going  to  course  the  hind  ;  you  are  going  to  your 
leman.  White  is  your  shirt,  well  is  it  washed, 
but  bloody  shall  it  be  when  it  is  taken  off," 
A,  D.  "  God  grant  it  be  not  as  she  bodes !  " 
exclaims  Olaf,  as  he  turns  from  his  mother, 
A.  He  rides  to  the  hills  and  comes  to  an  elf- 
house.  An  elf  comes  out,  braiding  her  hair, 
and  invites  him  to  dance.  "  You  need  not 
braid  your  hair  for  me ;  I  have  not  come  a-woo- 
ing,"  he  says.  "  I  must  quit  the  company  of 
elves,  for  to-morrow  is  my  bridal."  "  If  you 
will  have  no  more  to  do  with  elves,  a  sick 
bridegroom  shall  you  be  !  Would  you  rather 
lie  seven  years  in  a  sick-bed,  or  go  to  the 
mould  to-morrow  ?  "  He  would  rather  go  to 
the  mould  to-morrow.  The  elf  brought  him 
a  drink,  with  an  atter-corn,  a  poison  grain, 
floating  in  it :  at  the  first  draught  his  belt 
burst  A,  B*.  "  Kiss  me,"  she  said,  "  before 
you  ride."  He  leaned  over  and  kissed  her, 
though  little  mind  had  he  to  it :  she  was  be- 
guiling him,  him  so  sick  a  man.  His  mother 
came  out  to  meet  liim :  "  Why  are  you  so  pale, 
as  if  you  had  been  in  an  elf-dance?"  "I  have 
been  in  an  elf-dance,"  he  said,*  went  to  bed, 
turned  his  face  to  the  wall,  and  was  dead  be- 
fore midnight.  His  mother  and  his  love  (moy, 
vfv)  died  thereupon. 

Distinct  evidence  of  previous  converse  with 
elves  is  lacking  in  the  Icelandic  versions. 
Olaf  rides  along  the  cliffs,  and  comes  upon  an 
elf-house.  One  elf  comes  out  with  her  hair 
twined  with  gold,  another  with  a  silver  tank- 
ard, a  third  in  a  silver  belt,  and  a  fourth  wel- 
comes him  by  name.  "  Come  into  the  booth 
and  drink  with  us."  "  I  will  not  live  with 
elves,"  says  Olaf ;  "  rather  will  I  believe  in 
God."  The  elf  answers  that  he  might  do 
both,  excuses  herself  for  a  moment,  and  comes 
back  in  a  cloak,  which  hides  a  sword.  "  You 
shall  not  go  without  giving  us  a  kiss,"  she 

*  In  'Jomfruen  og  Dvsergekongen/  C  25,  26,  Grundt- 
vig,  No  37,  the  woman  who  has  been  carried  off  to  the  hill, 
wishing  to  die,  asks  that  atter-corns  may  be  put  into  her 
drink.  She  evidently  gets,  however,  only  the  villar-konn, 
elvar-konn,  of  Landstad,  Nos  42-45,  which  are  of  lethean 
property.  But  iu  J.  og  D.  F,  we  may  infer  an  atter-corn, 
though  none  is  mentioned,  from  the  effect  of  the  draughts, 


says.  Olaf  leans  over  his  saddle-bow  and 
kisses  her,  with  but  half  a  heart,  and  she 
thrusts  the  sword  under  his  shoulder-blade 
into  the  roots  of  his  heart.  He  sees  his  heart's 
blood  under  his  horse's  feet,  and  spurs  home 
to  his  mother.  "  Whence  comest  thou,  my 
son,  and  why  so  pale,  as  if  thou  hadst  been  in 
an  elf-dance  (leik)  ?  "  "  It  boots  not  to  hide 
it  from  thee  :  an  elf  has  beguiled  me.  Make 
my  bed,  mother ;  bandage  my  side,  sister." 
He  dies  presently :  there  was  more  mourning 
than  mirth ;  three  were  borne  to  the  grave 
together. 

Nearly  all  the  Danish  and  Swedish  ver- 
sions, and  a  good  number  of  the  Norwegian, 
interpose  an  affecting  scene  between  the  death 
of  the  hero  and  that  of  his  bride  and  his 
mother.  The  bride,  on  her  way  to  Olaf's 
house,  and  on  her  arrival,  is  disconcerted  and 
alarmed  by  several  ominous  proceedings  or 
circumstances.  She  hears  bells  tolling;  sees 
people  weeping ;  sees  men  come  and  go,  but 
not  the  bridegroom.  She  is  put  off  for  a  time 
with  false  explanations,  but  in  the  end  dis- 
covers the  awful  fact.  Such  a  passage  occurs 
in  the  oldest  Danish  copy,  which  is  also  the 
oldest  known  copy  of  the  ballad.  The  im- 
portance of  this  version  is  such  that  the  story 
requires  to  be  given  with  some  detail. 

Oluf  rode  out  before  dawn,  but  it  seemed  to 
him  bright  as  day.f  He  rode  to  a  hill  where 
dwarfs  were  dancing.  A  maid  stepped  out 
from  the  dance,  put  her  arm  round  his  neck, 
and  asked  him  whither  he  would  ride.  "  To 
talk  with  my  true-love,"  said  he.  "  But  first," 
said  she,  "  you  must  dance  with  us."  She  then 
went  on  to  make  him  great  offers  if  he  would 
plight  himself  to  her :  a  horse  that  would 
go  to  Rome  and  back  in  an  hour,  and  a  gold 
saddle  for  it;  a  new  corselet,  having  which 
he  never  need  fly  from  man  ;  a  sword  such 
as  never  was  used  in  war.  Such  were  all  her 
benches  as  if  gold  were  laid  in  links,  and  such 

which  is  that  belt,  stays,  and  sark  successively  burst.  See 
p.  363  f. 

t  So,  also,  Swedish  A,  F,  Norwegian  A,  C.  This  is  a 
cantrip  sleight  of  the  elves.  The  Icelandic  bnrden  supposes 
this  illumination,  "  The  low  was  burning  red  ; "  and  when 
Olaf  seeks  to  escape,  in  Norwegian  A,  C,  E,  G,  I,  K,  he  has 
to  make  his  way  through  the  clf-damc,  elvelogL 


376 


42.    CLERK   COLVILL 


r 


were  all  her  drawbridges  as  the  gold  on  his 
hands.  "  Keep  your  gold,"  he  answered  ;  "  I 
will  go  home  to  my  true-love."  She  struck 
him  on  the  cheek,  so  that  the  blood  spattered 
his  coat ;  she  struck  him  midshoulders,  so 
that  he  fell  to  the  ground :  "  Stand  up,  Oluf, 
and  ride  home ;  you  shall  not  live  more  than  a 
day."  He  turned  his  horse,  and  rode  home 
a  shattei'ed  man.  His  mother  was  at  the  gate  : 
"  Why  comest  thou  home  so  sad  ?  "  "  Dear 
mother,  take  my  horse  ;  dear  brother,  fetch  a 
priest."  "  Say  not  so,  Oluf  ;  many  a  sick  man 
does  not  die.  To  whom  do  you  give  your 
betrothed  ?  "  "  Rise,  my  seven  brothers,  and 
ride  to  meet  my  young  bride." 

As  the  bride's  train  came  near  the  town, 
they  heard  the  bells  going.  "  Why  is  this  ?  " 
slie  asked,  her  heart  already  heavy  with  pain ; 
"  I  know  of  no  one  having  been  sick."  They 
told  her  it  was  a  custom  there  to  receive  a 
bride  so.  But  when  she  entered  the  house,  all 
the  women  were  weeping.  "  Why  are  these 
ladies  weeping?"  No  one  durst  answer  a 
woi-d.  The  bride  went  on  into  the  hall,  and 
took  her  place  on  the  bride-bench.  "I  see," 
she  said,  "knights  go  and  come,  but  I  see  not 
my  lord  Oluf."  The  mother  answered,  Oluf 
is  gone  to  the  wood  with  hawk  and  hound. 
"  Does  he  care  more  for  hawk  and  hound  than 
for  his  young  bride  ?  " 

At  evening  they  lighted  the  torches  as  if  to 
conduct  the  bride  to  the  bride-bed ;  but  Oluf's 
page,  who  followed  his  lady,  revealed  the  truth 
on  the  way.  "  My  lord,"  he  said,  "lies  on  his 
bier  above,  and  you  are  to  give  your  troth  to 
his  brother."  "  Never  shalt  thou  see  that  day 
that  I  shall  give  my  troth  to  two  brothers." 
She  begged  the  ladies  that  she  might  see  the 
dead.  They  opened  the  door ;  she  ran  to  the 
bier,  threw  back  the  cloth,  kissed  the  body 
precipitately  ;  her  heart  broke  in  pieces ;  griev- 
l^  ous  was  it  to  see. 

Danish  B,  printed  by  Syv  in  1695,  is  the 
copy  by  which  the  ballad  of  the  Elf-shot  has 

*  Grundtvig  remarks  that  Herder's  translation,  '  Erlko- 
nigs  Tochter,'  Volkslieder,  II,  158,  took  so  well  with  the 
Germans  that  at  last  it  came  to  pass  for  an  original  German 
ballad.  The  Wunderhorn,  I,  a61,  ed.  1806,  gives  it  with  the 
title,  '  Herr  Olof,'  as  from  a  flying  sheet  {=  Schcrer's 
Deutsche  Volkslieder,  I85I,  p.  371).    It  appears,  with  some 


become  so  extensively  known  since  Herder's 
time,  through  his  translation  and  others.* 

The  principal  variations  of  the  Scandinavian 
ballads,  so  far  as  they  have  not  been  given, 
now  remain  to  be  noted. 

The  hero's  name  is  mostly  Oluf,  Ole,  or  a 
modification  of  this,  Wolle,  Rolig,  Voider ; 
sometimes  witli  an  appendage,  as  Faroe  (3la- 
vur  Riddarards,  Ri^sinkrans,  Icelandic  dlafur 
Liljur6s,  Norwegian  Olaf  Liljukrans,  etc.  It 
is  Peder  in  Danish  H,  I,  O,  P,  Q,  R,  ^. 

Excepting  the  Faroe  ballads,  Oluf  is  not 
distinctly  represented  as  having  had  previous 
acquaintance  with  the  elves.  In  Swedish  A  5  ' 
he  says,  I  cannot  dance  with  you,  my  betrothed 
has  forbidden  me  ;  in  Danish  C,  I  should  be 
very  glad  if  I  could  ;  to-morrow  is  my  wed- 
ding-day. 

The  object  of  his  riding  out  is  to  hunt,  or 
the  like,  in  Danish  D  b,  E,  F,  I,  R,  T,  X,  Y ; 
to  bid  guests  to  his  wedding,  Danish  B,  C, 
D  a,  a,  H,  K-N,  P,  S,  U,  V,  0,  Norwegian 
A,  B. 

He  falls  in  with  dwarfs,  Danish  A,  H,  Nor- 
wegian A ;  trolds,  Danish  I ;  elves  and  dwarfs, 
Norwegian  B,  and  a  variation  of  A  :  elsewhere 
it  is  elves. 

There  is  naturally  some  diversity  in  the  gifts 
which  the  elf  offers  Oluf  in  order  to  induce  him 
to  dance  with  her.  He  more  commonly  replies 
that  the  offer  is  a  handsome  one,  'kan  jeg  vel 
f&,'  but  dance  with  her  he  cannot ;  sometimes 
that  his  true-love  has  already  given  him  that, 
or  two,  three,  seven  such,  Danish  D  a,  I,  T, 
X,  Y. 

If  he  will  not  dance  with  her,  the  elf  threat- 
ens him  with  sore  sickness,  Danish  B,  E,  H,  Z, 
0,  Norwegian  A,  Swedish  E,  P  ;  a  great  mis- 
fortune, Danish  P,  Swedish  A  ;  sharp  knives, 
Danish  P  ;  it  shall  cost  him  his  young  life, 
Danish  D  a,  b,  T,  Y. 

Oluf  dances  with  the  elves,  obviously  under 
compulsion,  in  Danish  C,  D,  G-N,  S,  T,  U,  X,  Y, 
Swedish  P,  and  only  in  these.     He  dances  till 

little  changes,  iu  Zarnack's  Deutsche  Volkslieder,  1819,1, 
29,  whence  it  passed  into  Erlach,  IV,  6,  and  Richter  und 
Marschuer,  p.  60.  Kretzschmer  has  the  translation,  again, 
with  a  variation  here  and  there,  set  to  a  "  North  German  " 
and  to  a  "  Westphalian  "  air,  p.  8,  p.  9. 


42.    CLEBK   COLVILL 


377 


both  bis  boots  are  full  of  blood,  D  a  15,  D  b  4, 
G  5,  I  11,  K  5,  L  5,  M  6,  N  7,  S  6  [shoes], 
T  10,  U  5,  X  8,  Y  7 ;  he  dances  so  long  that 
he  is  nigh  dead,  I  12. 

Tiie  hard  choice  between  dying  at  once  or 
lying  sick  seven  years  is  found,  out  of  the 
Faroe  ballads,  only  in  Danish  H  8,  M  8,  O  4, 
Q  2,  S  8.  Norwegian  ballads,  like  English 
C,  present  an  option  between  living  with  elves 
and  dying,  essentially  a  repetition  of  the  terms 
under  which  Peter  of  Staufenberg  weds  the 
fairy,  that  he  shall  forfeit  his  life  if  he  takes  a 
mortal  wife.     So  Norwegian 

A  12   Whether  wilt  thou   rather   live    with   the 
elves, 
Or  leave  the  elves,  a  sick  man  ? 

13    Whether  wilt  thou  be  with  the  elves, 
Or  bid  thy  guests  and  be  sick  ? 

B    9    Whether  wilt  thou  stay  with  the  elves. 

Or,  a  sick  man,  flit  [bring  home]  thy  true- 
love? 

10   Wliether  wilt  thou  be  with  elves, 
Or,  a  sick  man,  flit  thy  bride  ? 


There  is  no  answer. 

Norwegian  C,  B,  Q-,  I  resemble  A.     H  is 
more  definite. 

-^  .  .         ^ 

/     6  Whether  wilt  thou  go  oflE  sick,  "  under  isle," 

Or  wilt  thou  marry  an  elf-maid  ? 


7  Whether  wilt  thou  go  off  sick,  under  hill, 
Or  wUt  thou  marry  an  elf-wife  ? 


l^ 


To  which  Olaf  answers  that  he  lists  not  to  go 
off  a  sick  man,  and  he  cannot  marry  an  elf. 

The  two  last  stanzas  of  English  C,  which 
correspond  to  these, 

'WUl  ye  he  there  an  die,  Clerk  CoUn, 

Will  ye  lie  there  an  die  ? 
Or  will  ye  gang  to  Clyde's  water, 

To  fish  in  flood  wi  me  ?  ' 

'  I  win  lie  here  an  die,'  he  said, 

'  I  will  lie  here  an  die  ; . 
In  spite  o  a'  the  deils  in  hell, 

I  will  lie  here  an  die,' 
48 


may  originally  have  come  in  before  the  mer- 
maid and  the  clerk  parted ;  but  her  visit  to 
him  as  he  lies  in  bed  is  paralleled  by  that  of 
the  fairy  to  Staufenberg  after  he  has  been 
persuaded  to  give  up  what  he  had  been 
brought  to  regard  as  an  infernal  liaison;  and 
certainly  Clerk  Colin's  language  might  lead 
us  to  think  that  some  priest  had  been  with 
him,  too. 

Upon  Oluf's  now  seeking  to  make  his  escape 
through  the  elves'  flame,  ring,  dance,  etc., 
Norwegian  A,  B,  C,  B,  G,  I,  H,  K,  the  elf- 
woman  strikes  at  him  with  a  gold  band,  her 
wand,  hand,  a  branch  or  twig ;  gives  him  a 
blow  on  the  cheek,  between  the  shoulders, 
over  his  white  neck ;  stabs  him  in  the  heart, 
gives  him  knife-strokes  five,  nine  ;  sickness  fol- 
lows the  stroke,  or  blood :  Danish  A,  B,  F,  N, 
O,  R,  V,  Z,  -ffi,  0,  Swedish  D,  G,  Norwegian 
A-E,  H,  I,  Icelandic.  The  knife-stabs  are  de- 
layed till  the  elves  have  put  him  on  his  horse 
in  Danish  D,  G,  X  ;  as  he  sprang  to  his  horse 
the  knives  rang  after  him,  H.  "Ride  home," 
they  say,  "you  shall  not  live  more  than  a  day" 
[five  hours,  two  hours],  Danish  A,  C,  K-N,  S, 
U,  V.  His  hair  fades,  Danish  E ;  his  cheek 
pales,  Danish  B,  Norwegian  A  ;  sickness  fol- 
lows him  home,  Swedish  A,  C,  D,  B ;  the  blood 
is  running  out  of  the  wound  in  his  heart, 
Swedish  G;  when  he  reaches  his  father's  house 
both  his  boots  are  full  of  blood,  Danish  R,  ^. 

His  mother  [father]  is  standing  without, 
and  asks,  Why  so  pale  ?  Why  runs  the  blood 
from  thy  saddle  ?  Oluf,  in  some  instances, 
pretends  that  his  horse,  not  being  sure-footed, 
had  stumbled,  and  thrown  him  against  a  tree, 
but  is  told,  or  of  himself  adds,  that  he  has 
been  among  the  elves.  He  asks  one  or  the 
other  of  his  family  to  take  his  horse,  bring  a 
priest,  make  his  bed,  put  on  a  bandage.  He 
says  he  shall  never  rise  from  his  bed,  Swedish 
C,  Danish  F ;  fears  he  shall  not  live  till  the 
priest  comes,  Danish  O,  P. 

The  important  passage  which  relates  the 
arrival  of  the  bride,  the  ominous  circumstances  A 
at  the  bridegroom's  house,  the  attempts  to  keep 
the  bride  in  ignorance  of  his  death,  and  her 
final  discovery  that  she  is  widowed  before 
marriage,  occupies  some  thirty  stanzas  in  Dan- 


378 


42.    CLERK  COLVILL 


ish  A,  the  oldest  of  all  copies ;  in  Danish  B 
it  is  reduced  to  six  ;  in  other  Danish  versions 
it  has  a  range  of  fi'om  fifteen  to  two;  but, 
shorter  or  longer,  it  is  found  in  all  versions 
but  R,  0,  and  the  fragments  G,  L,  Q,  X,  Z. 
All  the  Swedish  versions  have  a  similar  scene, 
extending  from  three  to  nine  stanzas,  with  the 
exception  of  G  and  of  A,  which  latter  should 
perhaps  be  treated  as  a  fragment.  In  Nor- 
wegian A,  again,  this  part  of  the  story  fills 
ten  stanzas  ;  B  lacks  it,  but  C-H  (which  have 
not  been  published  in  full)  have  it,  and  prob- 
ably other  unpublished  copies. 

The  bride  is  expected  the  next  day,  Danish 
D,  P,  I,  K,  N,  O,  S,  T,  U,  Swedish  A,  D. 
In  Danish  A  Okif  begs  his  brothers,  shortly 
after  his  reaching  home,  to  set  out  to  meet  Iier; 
he  fears  she  may  arrive  that  very  night,  Dan- 
ish ^.  "  What  shall  I  answer  your  young 
bride  ?  "  asks  the  mothei-,  Danish  B,  C,  D,  etc., 
Swedish  H.  "  Tell  her  that  I  have  gone  to 
the  wood,  to  hunt  and  shoot,  to  try  my  horse 
and  my  dogs,"  Danish  B,  C,  I>,  F,  H,  I,  K,  O, 
S,  T,  U,  Swedish  D,  H,  Norwegian  A,  L  ; 
in  Danish  N  only,  "  Say  I  died  in  the  night." 
Oluf  now  makes  his  will ;  he  wishes  to  assign 
his  bride  to  his  brother,  Danish  L,  O,  R,  Nor- 
wegian C,  F ;  he  dies  before  the  bride  can 
come  to  him.  (Norwegian  F  seems  to  have 
gone  wrong  here.) 

The  bride,  with  her  train,  comes  in  the  morn- 
ing, Danish  B,  D,  E,  I,  M,  T,  Swedish  D, 
Norwegian  D  ;  Swedish  C  makes  her  wait  for 
her  bridegroom  several  days.  As  she  passes 
through  the  town  the  bells  are  tolling,  and 
she  anxiously  asks  why,  Danish  A,  K,  O,  S, 
U ;  she  is  told  that  it  is  a  custom  there  to 
ring  when  the  bride  comes,  Danish  A,  Swed- 
ish B.  In  Danish  H,  though  it  is  day,  she 
sees  a  light  burning  in  Oluf's  chambei',  and 
this  alarms  her.  When  she  comes  to  the 
house,  Oluf's  mother  is  weeping,  all  the  ladies 


are  weeping,  or  there  are  other  signs  of  grief, 
Danish  A,  C,  H,  U,  M.  When  she  asks  the 
reason,  no  one  can  answer,  or  slie  is  told  that 
a  woman,  a  fair  knight,  is  dead.  A,  C,  H. 
Now  she  asks.  Where  is  Oluf,  who  should 
have  come  to  meet  me,  should  have  been  hei-e 
to  receive  me  ?  Danish  K,  O,  S,  U,  D,  E,  I,  T, 
etc.  They  conduct  the  bride  into  the  hall 
and  seat  her  on  the  bride  bench  ;  knights 
come  and  go  ;  they  pour  out  mead  and  wine. 
"  Where  is  Oluf,"  she  asks  again  ;  the  mother 
replies,  as  best  she  can,  that  Oluf  is  gone 
to  the  wood,  Danish  B,  H,  Norwegian  A,  D, 
Swedish  H,  etc.  "  Does  he  then  care  more 
for  that  than  for  his  bride  ?  "  Danish  A,  D,  I, 
M,  etc.,  Swedish  C,  D,  Norwegian  A,  E,  G. 

The  truth  is  now  avowed  that  Oluf  is  dead, 
Danish  A,  D,  I,  T,  Y,  ^,  Swedish  B,  Norwe- 
gian G.  The  bride  begs  that  she  may  see  the 
dead,  Danish  A,  C,  P,  ^,  Swedish  F,  Nor- 
wegian D,  B,  and  makes  her  way  to  the  room 
where  Oluf  is  lying.  She  puts  aside  the 
cloths  that  cover  him,  or  the  curtains,  or  the 
flowers,  Danish  A,  B,  K,  V,  etc.,  Swedish  C, 
D,  Norwegian  C,  D,  E,  G ;  says  a  word  or  two 
to  her  lover,  Danish  A,  C,  E,  H,  Swedish  E, 
F,  Norwegian  G;  kisses  him,  Danish  A,  C,  H; 
her  heart  breaks,  Danish  A,  C ;  she  swoons 
dead  at  his  feet,  Danish  K,  M,  S,  U.  In  Nor- 
wegian A,  G,  D,  she  kills  herself  with  Olaf's 
sword ;  in  Swedish  E,  with  her  own  knife.  In 
Danish  R  she  dies  in  Oluf's  mother's  arms. 
On  the  morrow,  when  it  was  day,  in  Oluf's 
house  three  corpses  lay  :  the  first  was  Oluf,  the 
second  his  maid,  the  third  his  mother,  of  grief 
was  she  dead  :  Danish,  Swedish,  Norwegian, 
passim* 

Breton  ballads  preserve  the  story  in  a  form 
closely  akin  to  the  Scandinavian,  and  partic- 
ularly to  the  oldest  Danish  version.  I  have 
seen  the  following,  all  from  recent  tradition : 
A,  C,  '  Ann  Aotro  ar  C'hont,'  '  Le  Seigneur 


*  Owing  to  a  close  resemblance  of  circumstances  in  '  The 
Elf-shot,'  in  'Fiillens  Hievn '  ('The  Leman's  Wreak'), 
Grundtvig,  No  208,  and  in  '  Hibold  og  Guldborg,'  Grundtvig, 
No  82,  these  ballads  naturally  have  details  in  common.  The 
pretence  that  the  horse  was  not  sure-footed  and  hurtled  his 
rider  agaiust  a  tree ;  the  request  to  mother,  father,  etc.,  to 
make  the  bed,  take  care  of  the  horse,  ajjply  a  bandage,  send 
for  a  priest,  etc.;  the  testament,  the  assignment  of  the  bride 


by  the  dying  man  to  his  brother,  and  her  declaration  that  she 
will  never  give  her  troth  to  two  brothers ;  and  the  nearly 
simultaneous  death  of  hero,  bride,  and  mother,  occur  in 
many  versions  of  both  Elveskud  and  Ribold,  and  most  of 
them  in  Frillens  HiEvn.  A  little  Danish  ballad,  '  Hr.  Olufs 
])0d,'  cited  by  Grundtvig,  IV,  847,  seems  to  be  Elveskud 
with  the  elf-shot  omitted. 


42    CLERK   COLVILL 


379 


Comte,'  Luzel,  I,  J,  |f,  fifty-seven  and  fifty- 
nine  two-line  stanzas.  B,  '  Ann  Aotro  Nann,' 
'Le  Seignenr  Nann,'  Luzel,  I,  if,  fifty-seven 
stanzas.*  D,  '  Aotrou  Nann  hag  ar  Gorrigan,' 
'  Le  Seigneur  Nann  et  la  F^e,'  Villemarqu^, 
p.  25,  ed.  1867,  thirty-nine  stanzas.  E, '  Mon- 
sieur Nann,'  Podsies  populaires  de  la  France, 
MS.,V,  fol.  381,  fifty-three  verses.  F,  'Sonen 
Gertrud  guet  hi  Vam,'  '  Chant  de  Gertrude  et 
de  sa  M6re,'  L.  Kdrardven  [=Dufilhol],  Gui- 
onvac'h.  Etudes  sur  la  Bretagne,  2d  ed.,  Paris, 
1835,  p.  362,  p.  13,  eleven  four-line  stanzas. 
G,  Rolland  in  Romania,  XIL  117,  a  somewhat 
abridged  literal  translation,  in  French. 

The  count  [Nann]  and  his  wife  were  mar- 
ried at  the  respective  ages  of  thirteen  and 
twelve.  The  next  year  a  son  was  born  [a 
boy  and  girl,  D].  The  young  husband  asked 
the  countess  if  she  had  a  fancy  for  anytliing. 
She  owned  that  she  should  like  a  bit  of  game, 
and  he  took  his  gun  [lance]  and  went  to  the 
wood.  At  the  entrance  of  the  wood  he  met 
'  a  fairy  [a  dwarf,  E  ;  a  hind,  G  ;  saw  a  white 
hind,  which  he  pursued  hotly  till  evening, 
when  lie  dismounted  near  a  grotto  to  drink, 
and  there  was  a  korrigan,  sitting  by  the  spring, 
combing  her  hair  with  a  gold  comb,  D].  The 
fairy  [dwarf,  hind]  said  that  she  had  long 
been  looking  for  him.  A,  B,  C,  E,  G.  "  Now 
that  I  have  met  you,  you  must  marry  me."  f 
"  Marry  you  ?  Not  I.  I  am  married  already." 
"  Choose  either  to  die  in  three  days  or  to  lie 
sick  in  bed  seven  [three]  years  "  [and  then 
die,  C].  He  would  rather  die  in  three  days, 
for  his  wife  is  very  young,  and  would  suffer 
greatly  [he  would  rather  die  that  instant  than 
wed  a  korrigan,  D]. 

On  reaching  home  the  young  man  called 
to  his  mother  to  make  his   bed ;   he    should 


never  get  up  again.  [His  mother,  in  C  21, 
says.  Do  not  weep  so :  it  is  not  every  sick 
man  that  dies,  as  in  Danish  A  22.]  He  re- 
counted his  meeting  with  the  fairy,  and  begged 
that  his  wife  might  not  be  informed  of  his 
death. 

The  countess  asked,  What  has  happened  to 
my  husband,  that  he  does  not  come  to  see 
me  ?  She  was  told  that  he  liad  gone  to  the 
wood  to  get  her  something,  A  [to  Paris,  C  ;  to 
the  city,  D].  Why  were  the  men-servants 
weeping  ?  The  best  horse  had  been  drowned 
in  bathing  him.  A,  B  ;  had  been  eaten  by  the 
wolves,  B  ;  had  broken  his  neck,  C ;  had  died, 
P.  They  were  not  to  weep  ;  others  should  be 
bought.  And  why  were  the  maids  weeping  ? 
Linen  had  been  lost  in  washing,  A,  C,  E,  P  ; 
the  best  silver  cover  had  been  stolen,  P.  They 
must  not  weep ;  the  loss  would  be  supplied. 
Why  were  the  priests  chanting  ?  [the  bells 
tolling,  E,  P].  A  poor  person  whom  they 
had  lodged  had  died  in  the  night,  A-E  [a 
young  prince  had  died,  P].  What  dress  should 
she  wear  for  her  churching,  —  red  or  blue  ? 
D,  P.J  The  custom  had  come  in  of  wearing 
black  [she  asks  for  red,  they  give  her  black, 
P].  On  arriving  at  the  church,  or  cemetery, 
she  saw  that  the  earth  had  been  disturbed ; 
her  pew  was  hung  with  black,  B  ;  why  was 
this?  "I  can  no  longer  conceal  it,"  said  her 
mother-in-law  :  "  your  husband  is  dead."  She 
died  upon  the  spot.  A,  D.  "  Take  my  keys, 
take  care  of  my  son ;  I  will  stay  with  his  fa- 
ther," B,  C.  "  Your  son  is  dead,  your  daughter 
is  dead,"  P.  § 

This  ballad  has  spread,  apparently  from  / 
Brittany,  over  all  France.  No  distinct  trace  I 
of  the  fairy  remains,  however,  except  in  a  sin-  , 
gle  case.     The  versions  that  have  been  made  I 


*  Luzel  was  in  possession  of  other  versions,  but  he  assures 
us  that  every  detail  is  contained  in  one  or  the  other  of  these 
three. 

t  B  13,  "  You  must  marry  me  straightway,  or  give  me 
my  weight  in  silver  ; "  then,  "  or  die  in  three  days,"  etc.  It 
is  not  impossible  that  this  stanza,  entirely  out  of  place  in  this 
ballad,  was  derived  from  '  Le  Comte  dcs  Chapelles,'  Luzel, 
p.  457,  from  which  certain  French  versions  have  taken  a  part 
of  their  story.  See  Luzel,  the  eighth  and  ninth  stanzas,  on 
p.  461. 

J  B  50,  "  A  white  gown,  or  broget,  or  my  violet  petti- 
coat 1"    Luzel  says  he  does  not  understand  iro^ef,  and  in 


his  Observations,  prefixed  to  the  volume,  expresses  a  conjec- 
ture that  it  must  have  been  altered  from  droged,  robe  d'en- 
fant,  robe  de  femme,  but  we  evidently  want  a  color.  Grundt- 
vig  remarks  that  broget  would  make  sense  in  Danish,  where 
it  means  party-colored.  Scotch  broakit  is  black  and  white. 
Icelandic  brdk,  tartan,  party-colored  cloth,  is  said  to  be  from 
Gaelic  breac,  versicolor  (Vigfusson).  This  points  to  a  soita- 
ble  meaning  for  Breton  broget. 

§  D  adds  :  "  It  was  a  marvel  to  see,  the  night  after  hus- 
band and  wife  had  been  buried,  two  oaks  rise  from  the  com- 
mon tomb,  and  on  their  branches  two  white  doves,  which  [ 
sang  there  at  daybreak,  and  then  took  flight  for  the  sl^ies." 


380 


42.     CLERK   COLVILL 


public,  so  far  as  they  have  come  to  my  knowl- 
edge, are  as  follows,  resemblance  to  the  Bre- 
ton ballad  principally  directing  the  arrange- 
ment. 

A.  '  Le  fils  Louis,'  Vendee,  pays  de  Retz, 
Poesies  populaires  de  la  France,  MS.,  Ill,  fol. 
118,  printed  in  Romania,  XI,  100,  44  verses. 
B.  Normandy,  1876,  communicated  by  Le- 
grand  to  Romania,  X,  372,  61  verses.  C. 
"  Forez,  Frdd^ric  Noelas,  Annales  de  la  Soci- 
6t6  imperiale  d'agriculture,  Industrie,  sciences, 
arts  et  belles-lettres  du  d^jpartement  de  la  Loire, 
Ann^e  1865,  p.  210,  64  verses,"  Grundtvig,  IV, 
867-70.  D.  Victor  Smith,  Chants  populaires 
du  Velay  et  du  Forez,  Romania,  X,  583,  68 
verses.  E.  The  same,  p.  581,  64  verses.  P. 
Saint-Denis,  Poes.  pop.  de  la  France,  III,  fol. 
103,  Romania,  XI,  98,  74  verses,  as  sung  by 
a  young  girl,  her  mother  and  grandmother. 
G.  Poitou  et  Vendue,  Etudes  historiques  et 
artistiques  par  B.  Fillon  et  O.  De  Rochbrune, 
7*-10*  livraisons,  Fontenay-le-Comte,  1865, 
article  Nalliers,  pp  17,  18,  nineteen  four-line 
stanzas  and  a  couplet ;  before  by  B.  Fillon  in 
"  L'Histoire  v^ridique  des  fraudes  et  ex^crables 
voleries  et  subtilitds  de  Guillery,  depuis  sa  nais- 
sance  jusqu'a  la  juste  punition  de  ses  crimes, 
Fontenay,  1848,"  extracted  in  Po^js.  pop..  Ill, 
fol.  112 ;  other  copies  at  fol.  108  and  at  fol.  116 ; 
Romania,  XI,  101,  78  verses.  H.  Bourbonnais, 
Po^s.  pop.  Ill,  fol.  91,  Romania,  XI,  108,  38 
verses,  sung  by  a  woman  seventy-two  years  old. 
I.  Bretagne,  Loudeac,  Pods,  pop..  Ill,  fol.  121, 
Romania,  XI,  103  f,  64  verses.  J.  Pods,  pop.. 
Ill,  fol.  285,  Romania,  XH,  115  (I),  50  verses. 
K.  Bretagne  (?),  Romania,  XII,  115  f,  36 
verses.  L.  V.  Smith,  Chants  pop.  du  Velay 
et  du  Foi-ez,  Romania,  X,  582.  57  verses. 
M.  '  Le  roi  Renaud,'  Fldvy,  Puyraaigre,  I, 
39,  78  verses.  N.  Touraine,  Bldrd,  Brachet 
in  Revue  Critique,  II,  125,  60  verses.  O.  The 
same,  variations  of  a  later  version.  P.  '  L'Ar- 
naud  ITnfant,'  Limoges,  Laforest,  Limoges 
au  XVII«  siecle,  1862,  p.  300,  Pods,  pop.,  Ill, 


fol.  95,  Romania,  XI,  104,  82  verses.  Q.  Clia- 
rente,  Pods,  pop..  Ill,  fol.  107,  Romania,  XI, 
99,  60  verses.  R.  Cambes,  Lot-et-Garonne, 
Romania,  XII,  116,  46  verses.  S.  Jura,  Revue 
des  Deux  Mondes,  1854,  Aout,  p.  486,  50 
verses.  T.  Rouen,  Pods.  pop.  Ill,  fol.  100, 
Romania,  XI,  102,  60  verses,  communicated 
bv  a  gentleman  who  at  the  berrinning  of  the 
century  had  learned  the  ballad  from  an  aunt, 
who  had  received  it  from  an  aged  nun.  U.  a, 
Buchon,  Noels  et  Chants  populaires  de  la 
Franche-Comtd,  p.  85,  34  verses  ;  b,  Tarbd, 
Romancero  de  Cliampagne,  Vol.  II,  Chants 
Populaires,  p.  125,  32  verses;  c,  G.  de  Ner- 
val, La  Boheme  Galante,  ed.  1866,  p.  77,  Les 
Filles  du  Feu,  ed.  1868,  p.  130,  30  verses  ; 
d,  '  Jean  Renaud,'  Bujeaud,  Chants  et  Chan- 
sons populaires  des  Provinces  de  I'Ouest,  II, 
213,  32  verses.  V.  Pods,  pop..  Ill,  fol.  122, 
Romania,  XI,  100  f,  32  verses.  W.  Le  Bld- 
sois.  Ampere,  Instructions,  etc.,  p.  37,  36 
verses.  X.  Provence,  Pods,  pop.,  Ill,  fol.  114, 
Romania,  XI,  105,  44  verses.  Y.  '  Lou  Counte 
Arnaud,'  Bives,  Gers,  Bladd,  Pods.  pop.  de 
la  Gascogne,  II,  ^§f,  48  verses.  Z.  Vagney, 
Vosges,  Mdlusine,  p.  75,  44  verses.  AA. 
Cambes,  Lot-et-Gai-onne,  Romania,  XII,  116  f, 
40  verses.  BB.  Quercy,  Sdrignac,  Pods,  pop., 
Romania,  XI,  106,  34  verses.  CO.  Quercy, 
Pods,  pop.,  Romania,  XI,  107,  26  verses.  DD. 
Bretagne,  Villemarqud,  Barzaz-Breiz,  ed.  1846, 
I,  46,  12  verses.  EE.  Orldans,  Pods,  pop..  Ill, 
fol.  102,  Romania,  XI,  107,  10  verses.  FP. 
Auvergne,  Pods,  pop..  Ill,  fol.  89,  Romania, 
XI,  107  f,  6  verses.  GG.  Boulonnais,  'La  Bal- 
lade du  Roi  Renaud,'  E.  Hamy,  in  Almanach 
de  Boulogne-sur-Mer  pour  1863,  p.  110  (com- 
pounded from  several  versions),  16  four-line 
stanzas.* 

The  name  of  the  hero  in  the  French  ballad 
is  mostly  Renaud,  or  some  modification  of 
Renaud :  Jean  Renaud,  G,  H,  U ;  Renom, 
AA;  Arnaud,  C,  B,  L,  Y,  BB ;  L'Arnaud 
rinfant,  P;  Louis  Renaud,  brother  of  Jean,  P. 


*  It  will  be  observed  that  some  of  the  Renaad  ballads  in 
the  Poesies  populaires  de  la  France  were  derived  from  ear- 
lier publications  :  such  as  were  communicated  by  collectors 
appear  to  have  been  sent  in  in  1852  or  X853.  The  versions 
cited  by  Rathery,  Revue  Critique,  II,  287  ff,  are  all  from  the 


MS.  Poesies  populaires.  BB,  CC  have  either  been  over- 
looked by  me  in  turning  over  the  first  five  volumes,  or  occur 
in  vol.  vi,  which  has  not  yet  been  received.  GG  came  to 
hand  too  late  to  be  ranked  at  its  proper  place. 


42.    CLERK   COLVILL 


381 


It  is  Louis  in  A,  I,  J,  V.  He  is  king,  or  of  the 
royal  family,  F,  M,  N,  O,  Q,  "W,  BB,  CC,  GG  ; 
count,  Y  ;  Renaud  le  grand,  H,  Z.  In  A, 
while  he  is  walking  in  his  meadows,  he  meets 
Death,  who  asks  him,  peremptorily,  Would 
you  rather  die  this  very  night,  or  languish 
seven  years  ?  and  he  answers  that  he  prefers 
to  die  at  once.  Here  there  is  a  very  plain 
trace  of  the  older  fairy.  He  is  mortally  hurt, 
while  hunting,  by  a  wolf,  B  ;  by  a  boar,  DD. 
But  in  more  than  twenty  versions  he  returns 
from  war,  often  with  a  horrible  wound,  "  ap- 
portant  son  cceur  dans  sa  main,"  C  ;  "  tenant 
ses  tripes  dans  ses  mains,"  N ;  "  oque  ses 
tripes  on  sa  main,  sen  estoumac  on  sen  chapea, 
sen  cur  covert  de  sen  mentea,"  G- ;  etc.  In  F, 
I,  J  he  comes  home  in  a  dying  state  from 
prison  (to  which  he  was  consigned,  according 
to  I,  for  robbing  a  church !).  In  these  ver- 
sions the  story  is  confused  with  that  of  an- 
other ballad,  existing  in  Breton,  and  very 
likely  in  French,  '  Komt  ar  Chapel,'  '  Le 
Comte  des  Chapelles,'  Luzel,  I,  |ff,  or  'Le 
Page  de  Louis  XIII,'  Villemarqud,  Barzaz- 
Breiz,  p.  301.  A  fragment  of  a  corresponding 
Italian  ballad  is  given  by  Nigra,  Romania, 
XI,  397,  No  9. 

Renaud,  as  it  will  be  convenient  to  call  the 
hero,  coming  home  triste  et  chagrin,  F,  P,  U  b, 
o,  triste  et  bien  malau,  Y,  receives  on  his  ar- 
riving felicitations  from  his  mother  on  account 
of  the  birth  of  a  son.  He  has  no  heart  to 
respond  to  these :  "  Ni  de  ma  femme,  ni  de 
mon  fils,  je  ne  saurais  me  r^joui."  He  asks 
that  his  bed  may  be  made,  with  precautions 
against  his  wife's  hearing.  At  midnight  he 
is  dead. 

The  wife,  hearing  the  men-servants  weep- 
ing, asks  her  mother-in-law  the  cause.  The 
best  horse  [horses]  has  been  found  dead  in 
the  stable,  has  strayed  away,  etc.,  B,  D-S,  GG. 
"  No  matter  for  that,"  says  the  wife  ;  "  wlien 
Renaud  comes  he  will  bring  better,"  B,  D-G, 
L-Q,  GG.  The  maids  are  heard  weeping;  why 
is  that?  They  have  lost,  or  injured,  sheets 
in  the  washing,  B,  D,  B,  G,  J.  When  Renaud 
comes  we  shall  have  better,  B,  D,  B,  G.  Or 
a  piece  of  plate  has  been  lost  or  broken,  A, 
P,  H,  I,  K,  O.    [It  is  children  with  the  tooth- 


ache, F,  U  a,  b,  c,  d].  "What  is  this  chant- 
ing which  I  hear  ?  "  It  is  a  procession,  mak- 
ing the  tour  of  the  house :  B,  D-F,  L,  P-X, 
GG.  "  What  gown  shall  I  wear  when  I  go  to 
church  ?  "  Black  is  the  color  for  women  at 
their  churching,  B,  P,  I,  L,  M,  O,  P,  V,  Y ; 
black  is  more  becoming,  plus  joli,  jilus  con- 
venant,  plus  cons(?quent,  A,  D,  H,  K,  N,  R, 
X,  BB,  DD,  GG ;  "  quittez  le  ros',  quitt(-z  le 
gris,  prenez  le  noir,  pour  mieux  choisir,"  etc., 
Q,  W,  U,  B,  S,  T. 

Besides  these  four  questions,  all  of  which 
occur  in  Breton  ballads,  there  are  two  which 
are  met  with  in  many  versions,  always  coming 
before  the  last.  "  What  is  this  pounding 
(frapper,  cogner,  taper)  which  I  hear  ?  "  It  is 
carpenters,  or  masons,  repairing  some  part  of 
the  house,  D,  B,  K,  L,  N,  P-U,  W;  A,  V,  X, 
AA;  GG.  "Why  are  the  bells  ringing?"  For 
a  procession,  or  because  a  distinguished  person- 
age has  come,  has  died,  etc..  A,  B,  F-L,  Q,  R, 
W,  Y,  AA,  DD,  GG.  On  the  way  to  church  [or 
cemetery]  herdboys  or  others  say  to  one  an- 
other, as  the  lady  goes  by.  That  is  the  wife 
of  the  king,  the  seigneur,  that  was  buried  last 
night,  or  the  like  ;  and  the  mother-in-law  has 
again  to  put  aside  the  lady's  question  as  to 
what  they  were  saying,  D,  B,  G,  H,  L-P,  S, 
T,  X,  Y,  FF,  GG. 

Flambeaux  or  candles  are  burning  at  the 
church,  B,  V;  a  taper  is  presented  to  the 
widow,  M,  or  holy  water,  N,  T,  Z,  GG; 
the  church  is  hung,  with  black,  D,  O,  FF ; 
the  funeral  is  going  on,  AA,  CC.  "  Whose  is 
this  new  monument?"  "  What  a  fine  tomb!" 
M,  N,  R,  T,  Z,  GG.  The  scene  in  other  cases 
is  transferred  to  the  cemetery.  "Why  has 
the  earth  been  disturbed  ?  "  "  What  new  mon- 
ument is  this  ?  "  A,  DD ;  C,  F,  I,  J,  P.  In  B 
the  tomb  is  in  the  garden  ;  in  L,  S,  X,  BB  the 
place  is  not  defined. 

The  young  wife  utters  a  piercing  shriek, 
C,  D,  K,  L,  N.  Open  earth,  split  tomb,  split 
tiles  !  A,  B,  Q,  R,  V,  W,  X,  Y ;  I  will  stay 
with  my  husband,  will  die  with  my  husband, 
will  not  go  back.  A,  C,  D,  M,  N,  Q,  R,  S,  X, 
Y,  Z,  BB,  CC,  GG.  She  bids  her  mother 
take  her  keys,  B,  C,  G,  L,  M,  P,  Y,  BB,  CC, 
GG,  and  commits  her  son   [children]  to  her 


382 


42.    CLEKK   COLVILL 


kinsfolk,  to  bring  up  piously,  B,  G,  I,  J,  L, 
M,  O,  Z,  BB,  CO.  In  H,  P,  Q,  W,  X,  Y  the 
earth  opens,  and  in  the  last  four  it  encloses 
her.  In  K  heaven  is  rent  by  her  shriek,  and 
she  sees  her  husband  in  light  (who  says, 
strangely,  that  his  mouth  smacks  of  rot)  ;  he 
bids  her  bring  up  the  children  as  Cliristians. 
Heaven  opens  to  her  prayer  in  AA,  and  a 
voice  cries.  Wife,  come  up  hither  !  In  GG  the 
voice  from  heaven  says,  Go  to  your  child :  I 
will  keep  your  husband  safe.  There  are  other 
variations.* 

G,  T,  I  say  expressly  that  Renaud's  wife 
died  the  next  day,  or  after  hearing  three 
masses,  or  soon  after.  M,  O,  by  a  feeble 
modern  perversion,  make  her  go  into  a  con- 
vent. 

Italian  ballads  cover  very  much  the  same 
ground  as  the  French.  The  versions  hitherto 
published  are  : 

A.  '  La  Lavandaia,'  Cento,  Ferraro,  Canti 
popolari  di  Ferrara,  Cento  e  Pontelagoscuro, 
p.  52,  16  verses,  Romania,  XI,  397,  amended. 
B.  '  II  Cavaliere  della  bella  Spada,'  Pontelago- 
scuro, Ferraro,  p.  107,  previously  in  Rivista  di 
Filologia  romanza,  II,  205,  28  verses,  Roma- 
nia, XI,  398.  C.  Piedmont,  communicated  by 
Nigra,  with  other  versions,  to  Romania,  XI, 
894,  No  4,  48  verses.  D.  Romania,  XI,  393  f. 
No  8, 84  verses.  E.  Ih.  p.  395,  No  6,  42  verses. 
P.  lb.  p.  392  f.  No  2,  46  verses.  G.  '  Conte 
Anzolin,'  Wolf,  Volkslieder  aus  Venetien,  p. 
61,  57  verses.  H.  Romania,  XI,  396,  No  7, 
38  verses.  I.  Ih.  p.  394  f.  No  5,  26  verses.  J. 
'  II  re  Carlino,'  Ferraro,  Canti  popolari  mon- 
ferrini,  p.  34,  42  verses.  K.  Romania,  XI, 
392,  No  1,  20  verses.  L.  '  II  Conte  Angio- 
lino,'  Rovigno,  Ive,  Canti  popolari  istriani, 
p.  844,  34  verses.     M.  '  II  Conte  Cagnolino,' 

•  In  C  the  mother-in-law  tells  her  daughter,  austerely : 

Vous  aurez  plutot  trouvt!  un  mari 
Que  moi  je  n'aurai  trouvcj  un  fils. 

So  E,  nearly.  A  mother  makes  a  like  remark  to  the  be- 
trothed of  a  dead  son  in  the  Danish  ballad  of  '  Ebbe  Tyge- 
sen,'  Grundtvig,  Danske  Ksempeviser  og  Folkesange,  for- 
nyede  i  gammel  Stil,  1867,  p.  122,  st.  U.  F  and  T  conclude 
with  these  words  of  the  wife  : 

'Ma  m6re,  dites  au  fossoyenr 
Qu'il  creuse  une  fosse  pour  deux ; 


Pontelagoscuro,  Ferraro,  as  above,  p.  84,  Ri- 
vista di  Filologia  romanza,  II,  196,  36  verses. 
All  these  are  from  recent  tradition. 

The  name  Rinaldo,  Rinald,  is  found  only  in 
I,  C,  and  the  latter  has  also  Liiis.  Liiis  is  the 
name  in  E ;  Carlino,  Carlin,  in  J,  H  ;  Angi- 
olino,  Anzolin,  L,  G ;  Cagnolino,  M.  The 
rank  is  king  in  C,  B,  H-K  ;  prince,  D  ;  count, 
G,  L,  M. 

A  and  B,  coiTupted  fragments  though  they 
be,  retain  clear  traces  of  the  ancient  form  of 
the  story,  and  of  the  English  variety  of  that 
form.  Under  the  bridge  of  the  Rella  [Dia- 
mantina]  a  woman  is  washing  clothes,  gh'  ^ 
'na  lavandera.  A  knight  passes,  B,  and  ap- 
parently accosts  the  laundress.  She  moves 
into  the  water,  and  the  knight  after  her  ;  the 
knight  embraces  her,  A.  Dowy  rade  he  '' 
hame,  el  va  a  ca  tiito  moja,  A.  In  B  (pass- 
ing over  some  verses  which  have  intruded)  he 
has  many  knife-stabs,  and  his  horse  many  also.f 
He  asks  his  mother  to  put  him  to  bed  and  his 
horse  into  the  stable,  and  gives  directions 
about  his  funeral. 

All  of  the  story  which  precedes  the  hero's  f 
return  home  is  either  omitted,  D,  P,  J,  K,  L, 
or  abridged  to  a  single  stanza :  ven  da  la  cassa  , 
lo  re  Rinald,  ven  da  la  cassa,  1'^  tiit  feri,  C ; 
ven  da  la  guerra  re  Rinaldo,  ven  da  la  guerra, 
I'e  tiit  feri,  I,  E,  H ;  save  that  G,  which  like  C 
makes  him  to  have  been  hunting  (and  to 
have  been  bitten  by  a  mad  dog),  adds  that, 
while  he  was  hunting,  his  wife  had  given  birth 
to  a  boy.  M  has  an  entirely  false  beginning : 
Count  Cagnolino  was  disposed  to  marry,  but 
wished  to  be  secure  about  his  wife's  previous 
life.  He  had  a  marble  statue  in  his  garden 
which  moved  its  eyes  when  any  girl  that  had 
gone  astray  presented  herself  before  it.     The 

'  Et  que  I'espace  y  soil  si  grand 
Que  I'on  y  mette  aussi  I'enfant.' 

The  burial  of  father,  mother,  and  child  in  a  common 
grave  is  found  elsewhere  in  ballads,  as  in  '  Redselille  og 
Medelvold,'  Grundtvig,  No  271,  A  37,  G  20,  M  26,  X  27. 

t  Shutting  our  eyes  to  other  Romance  versions,  or,  we 
may  say,  opening  them  to  Scandinavian  ones,  we  might 
see  in  these  stabs  the  wounds  made  by  the  elf-knives  in  Dan- 
ish D,  G,  H,  N,  O,  R,  X,  Swedish  G,  Norwegian  H,  I. 
See  '  Don  Joan  y  Don  Ramon,'  further  on. 


42.    CLERK   COLVILL 


383 


daughter  of  Captain  Tartaglia  having  been 
declined,  for  reason,  and  another  young  woman 
espoused,  Tartaglia  killed  the  count  while  they 
were  hunting. 

The  wounded  man,  already  feeling  the  ap- 
proach of  death,  F,  G,  L,  asks  that  his  bed 
may  be  made  ;  he  shall  die  before  the  morrow, 
D,  F,  J ;  let  not  his  wife  know,  F,  G.  The 
wife  asks  why  the  men-servants,  coachmen, 
are  weeping,  and  is  told  that  they  have 
drowned  [lost]  some  of  the  horses,  C-J,  M 
[have  burned  the  king's  carriage,  K].  We 
will  get  others  when  the  king  comes,  she  an- 
swers, C,  D,  H  [when  I  get  up,  F,  as  in  Bre- 
ton A].  Why  are  the  maids  weeping  ?  The 
maids  have  lost  sheets  or  towels  in  washing, 
F,  I.  K  ;  have  scorched  the  shirts  in  ironing, 
C,  D,  H.  When  the  king  comes,  he  will  buy 
or  bring  better,  C,  D,  H  [when  I  get  up,  F,  as 
in  Breton  A].  Why  are  the  priests  chant- 
ing? For  a  great  feast  to-morrow,  F.  Why 
are  the  carpenters  at  work  ?  They  are  mak- 
ing a  cradle  for  your  boy,  C-E,  H-K.  Why 
do  the  bells  ring  ?  A  great  lord  is  dead  ;  in 
honor  of  somebody  or  something ;  C,  E-L. 
Why  does  not  Anzolin  come  to  see  me  ?  He 
has  gone  a-hunting,  G,  L.  What  dress  shall 
I  put  on  to  go  to  church  ?  [When  I  get  up 
I  shall  put  on  red,  F,  I.]  You  in  black  and 
I  in  gray,  as  in  our  country  is  the  way,  C-F, 
H,  I  [H  moda  a  Paris,  by  corruption  of  del 
pais]  ;  I  white,  you  gray,  J  ;  you  will  look  well 
in  black,  M ;  put  on  red,  or  put  on  white,  or 
put  on  black  for  custom's  sake,  G. 

The  children  in  the  street  say,  That  is  the 
wife  of  the  lord  who  was  buried,  or  the  peo- 
ple look  at  the  lady  in  a  marked  way,  C,  J,  G, 
M ;  and  why  is  this  ?  For  the  last  time  the 
mother-in-law  puts  off  the  question.  At  the 
church,  under  the  family  bench,  there  is  a 
grave  new  made,  and  no%v  it  has  to  be  said 
that  the  husband  is  buried  there,  C-K,  M. 

A  conclusion  is  wanting  in  half  of  the  bal- 
lads, and  what  there  is  is  corrupted  in  others. 
The   widow  commends  her  boy  to   her   hus- 


band's mother,  G,  M,  and  says  she  will  die 
\(nth  her  dear  one,  D,  E,  J,  M.  In  C,  as  in 
French  V,  she  wishes  to  speak  to  her  hus- 
band. If  the  dead  ever  spake  to  the  quick, 
she  would  speak  once  to  her  dear  Liiis  ;  if  the 
quick  ever  spake  to  the  dead,  she  would  speak 
once  to  her  dear  husband.  In  G  she  bids  the 
grave  unlock,  that  she  may  come  into  the 
arms  of  her  beloved,  and  then  bids  it  close, 
tliat  in  his  anns  she  may  stay :  cf.  French  T, 
Q,  X.  R,  AA. 

Tlie  story  of  the  Italian  ballad,  under  the 
title  of  'II  Conte  Angiolino,'  was  given  in 
epitome  by  Luigi  Carrer,  in  his  Prose  e  Poe- 
sie,  Venice,  1838,  IV,  81  f,  before  any  copy 
had  been  published  (omitted  in  later  editions). 
According  to  Carrer's  version,  the  lady,  hear- 
ing bells,  and  seeing  from  her  windows  the 
church  lighted  up  as  for  some  ofiBce,  extracts 
the  fact  from  her  mother-in-law  on  the  spot, 
and  then,  going  to  the  church  and  seeing  her 
husband's  tomb,  prays  that  it  would  open  and 
receive  her. 

A  fragment  of  an  Italian  ballad  given  by 
Nigra,  Romania,  XI,  396,  No  8,  describes 
three  card  players,  quarrelling  over  their  game, 
as  passing  from  words  to  knives,  and  from 
knives  to  pistols,  and  one  of  the  party,  the 
king  of  Spain,  as  being  wounded  in  the  fi'ay. 
He  rides  home  with  a  depressed  air,  and  asks 
his  mother  to  make  his  bed,  for  he  shall  be 
dead  at  midnight  and  his  horse  at  dawn. 
There  is  a  confusion  of  two  stories  here,  as 
will  be  seen  from  Spanish  ballads  which  are 
to  be  spoken  of.  Both  .stories  are  mixed  with 
the  original  adventure  of  the  mermaid  in  '  II 
Cavaliere  della  bella  spada,'  already  referred 
to  as  B.  In  this  last  the  knight  has  a  hundred 
and  fifty  stabs,  and  his  horee  ninety.* 

Nigra  has  added  to  the  valuable  and  beau- 
tiful ballads  furnished  to  Romania,  XI,  a  tale 
(p.  398)  from  the  province  of  Turin,  which 
preserves  the  earlier  portion  of  the  Breton 
story.  A  hunter  comes  upon  a  beautiful 
woman  under  a  rock.     She  requires  him  to 


*  The  ballad  of  '  Liifrgieri,'  published  by  Salvatori  in  the  to  me  not  to  belong  with  '  Renaud,'  but  with  the  class  of    \/ 

Rasscgna  Settimanale,  Rome,  June  22,  1879,  and  reprinted  'The  Cruel  Brother,' as  already  remarked  of  the  Venetian 

by  Nigra  In  Romania,    XI,  391   (a  variety  of  '  Rizzardo  ballad  at  p.  142. 
bello,'  Wolf,  Volkslieder  aus  Venetien,  p.  62,  No  83),  appears 


384 


42.    CLERK   OOLVILL 


marry  her,  and  is  told  by  the  hunter  that  he 
is  already  married.  The  beautiful  woman, 
who  is  of  course  a  fairy,  presents  the  hunter 
with  a  box  for  his  wife,  which  he  is  not  to 
open.  This  box  contains  an  explosive  girdle, 
intended  to  be  her  death ;  and  the  hunter's 
curiosity  impelling  him  to  examine  the  gift, 
he  is  so  much  injured  by  a  detonation  which 
follows  that  he  can  just  drag  himself  home  to 
die. 

Spanish.  This  ballad  is  very  common  in 
Catalonia,  and  has  been  found  in  Asturias. 
Since  it  is  also  known  in  Portugal,  we  may 
presume  that  it  might  be  recovered  in  other 
parts  of  the  peninsula.  A.  '  La  bona  viuda,' 
Briz,  Cansons  de  la  Terra,  III,  155,  32  verses. 
B. '  La  Viuda,'  33  verses.  Mild  y  Fontanals,  Ro- 
mancerillo  Catalan,  2d  ed.,  p.  155,  No  204. 
C-I.  lb.  p.  156  f.  J.  lb.  p.  157  f,  No  204,,  36 
verses.  K.  '  Romance  de  Dofia  Ana,'  Astu- 
rias, the  argument  only,  Amador  de  los  Rios, 
Histoi'ia  Critica  de  la  Literatura  Espanola, 
Vn,  446,  being  No  30  of  that  author's  unpub- 
lished collection. 

The  name  of  the  husband  is  Don  Joan  de 
Sevilla,  D,  Don  Joan,  F,  Don  Olalbo,  I,  Don 
Francisco,  J,  Don  Pedro,  K.  His  wife,  a  prin- 
cess, A,  Q-,  has  given  birth  to  a  child,  or  is  on 
the  eve  of  so  doing.  The  gentleman  is  away 
from  home,  or  is  about  to  leave  home  on  a  pil- 
grimage of  a  year  and  a  day.  A,  G ;  has  gone 
to  war,  D;  to  a  hunt,  I,  K.  He  dies  just  as  he 
returns  home  or  is  leaving  home,  or  away  from 
home,  in  other  versions,  but  in  K  comes  back 
in  a  dying  condition,  and  begs  that  his  state 
may  be  concealed  from  his  wife.  The  lady, 
hearing  a  commotion  in  the  house,  and  asking 
the  cause,  is  told  that  it  is  the  noisy  mirth  of 
the  servants,  A-D.  There  is  music,  chanting, 
tolling  of  bells ;  and  this  is  said  to  be  for  a 
great  person  who  has  died,  B,  D,  A.  In  B,  D, 
the  wife  asks.  Can  it  be  for  my  husband  ?  In 
J  the  mother-in-law  explains  her  own  sorrow- 
ful demeanor  as  occasioned  by  the  death  of  an 
uncle,  and  we  are  informed  that  the  burial 
was  without  bells,  in  order  that  the  new  mother 

*  The  version  in  the  Recnerdos  was  obtained  in  Majorca 
by  Don  J.  M.  Quadrado.  The  editor  remarks  that  the  em- 
ployment of  the  articles  11  and  La  instead  of  Es  and   Sa 


might  not  hear.  In  J  only  do  we  have  the 
question.  Where  is  my  husband  ?  He  has  been 
summoned  to  court,  says  the  mother-in-law, 
where,  as  a  favorite,  he  will  stay  a  year  and 
ten  days.  When  should  the  young  mother  go 
to  mass  ?  Peasants  go  after  a  fortnight, 
tradesfolk  after  forty  days,  etc.  ;  slie,  as  a  great 
lady,  will  wait  a  year  and  a  day,  A,  D,  I,  a 
year,  B,  a  year  and  ten  days,  J.  What  dress 
should  she  wear,  silk,  gold  tissue,  silver  ?  etc. 
Black  would  become  her  best,  A,  J,  K.  [Doiia 
Ana,  in  K,  like  the  lady  in  Italian  G,  resists 
the  suggestion  of  mourning,  as  proper  only  for 
a  widow,  and  appears  in  a  costume  de  Pascua 
florida :  in  some  other  copies  also  she  seems  to 
wear  a  gay  dress.]  The  people,  the  children, 
point  to  her,  and  say,  There  is  the  widow, 
and  her  mother-in-law  parries  the  inquiry  why 
she  is  the  object  of  remark ;  but  the  truth  is 
avowed  when  they  see  a  grave  digging,  and 
the  wife  asks  for  whom  it  is,  A.  In  J  the  lady 
sees  a  monument  in  the  church,  hung  with 
black,  reads  her  husband's  name,  and  swoons. 
B,  C  make  the  mother's  explanation  follow 
upon  the  children's  talk.  In  K  the  announce- 
ment is  made  first  by  a  shepherd,  then  con- 
firmed by  gaping  spectators  and  by  a  rejected 
lover.  The  widow  commends  her  child  to  its 
grandmothei',  and  says  she  will  go  to  her  hus- 
band in  heaven,  A-D ;  dies  on  the  spot,  K ;  Don 
Francisco  dies  in  March,  Dona  Ana  in  May,  J. 

'  Don  Joan  y  Don  Ramon '  is  a  ballad  in 
which  a  young  man  returns  to  his  mother  mor- 
tally wounded,  and  therefore  would  be  likely 
to  blend  in  the  memory  of  reciters  with  any 
other  ballad  in  which  the  same  incident  oc- 
curred. A  version  from  the  Balearic  Islands 
may  be  put  first,  which  has  not  yet  taken 
up  any  characteristic  part  of  the  story  of  Re- 
naud  :  Recuerdos  y  Bellezas  de  Espana,  Mal- 
lorca,  p.  336,  1842  =  Mild,  1858,  p.  114,  No 
15,  Briz,  III,  172 ;  Die  Balearen  in  Wort  und 
Bild  geschildert,  by  the  Archduke  Ludwig 
Salvator,  Leipzig,  1871,  II,  556.* 

Don  Joan  and  Don  Ramon  are  returning  from 
the  chase.     Don  Ramon  falls  from  his  horse  ; 

proves  it  to  be  as  old  as  the  sixteenth  century.  Die  Balearen, 
etc.,  is  cited  after  Gruudtvig. 


43.    CLEEK   COLVILIi 


385 


Don  Joan  rides  off.  Don  Ramon's  mother  sees 
her  son  coming  through  a  field,  gathering 
plants  to  heal  his  wounds.  "  What  is  the  mat- 
ter?" she  asks;  "you  are  pale."  "I  have  been 
bled,  and  they  made  a  mistake."  "  III  luck 
to  the  barber  !  "  "  Curse  him  not ;  it  is  the 
last  time.  Between  me  and  my  horse  we  have 
nine  and  twenty  lance  thrusts ;  the  horse  has 
nine  and  I  tlie  rest.  The  horse  will  die  to- 
night and  I  in  the  morning.  Bury  him  in  the 
best  place  in  the  stable,  and  me  in  St  Eulalia ; 
lay  a  sword  crosswise  over  my  grave,  and  if 
it  is  asked  who  killed  me,  let  the  answer  be, 
Don  Joan  de  la  cassada." 

There  are  numerous  Catalan  versions,  and 
most  of  them  add  something  to  this  story  : 
Mild,  2d  ed.,  '  El  guerrero  mal  herido,'  p.  171, 
No  210,  A-P,  A,-Gi,  A„  ;  Briz,  III,  171  f,  two 
copies.  These  disagree  considerably  as  to  the 
cause  of  the  hero's  death,  and  the  names  are 
not  constant.  In  A,  of  Mild,  as  in  the  Bal- 
earic ballad,  Don  Joan  and  Don  Ramon  are 
coming  from  the  chase,  and  have  a  passage  at 
lances ;  Don  Joan  is  left  dead,  and  Don  Ra- 
mon is  little  short  of  it.  A,  B,  of  Mild,  tell 
US  that  Don  Pedro  died  on  the  field  of  battle 
and  Don  Joan  came  home  mortally  wounded. 
E  says  that  Don  Joan  and  Don  Ramon  come 
from  the  chase,  but  Don  Joan  immediately 
says  that  he  comes  from  a  great  battle.  It  is 
battle  in  F„  in  Ei  (with  Gast6  returning),  and 
in  both  the  Catalan  copies  of  Briz,  the  hero 
being  Don  Joan  in  the  first  of  these  last,  and 
in  the  other  nameless.  The  wounded  man 
says  he  has  been  badly  bled.  Mild,  A,  B,  A,, 
Ci,  Briz  2;  he  and  his  horse  have  lance  wounds 
fifty-nine,  thirty-nine,  twenty-nine,  etc.,  the 
horse  nine  and  he  the  rest.  Mild,  A,  B,  E,  A„ 
Briz  1.  His  mother  informs  him  that  his  wife 
has  borne  a  child,  "  a  boy  like  the  morning 
star,"  Briz  1,  and  says  that  if  he  will  go  to 
the  best  chamber  he  will  find  her  surrounded 
by  dames  and  ladies.  This  gives  him  no  pleas- 
ure ;  he  does  not  care  for  wife,  nor  dames,  nor 
ladies,  nor  boys,  nor  morning  stars :  Briz  1, 
Mild,  A,-Gi.  He  asks  to  have  his  bed  made, 
Mild,  A-D,  Bi,  Ci,  Briz  1,  2,  for  he  shall  die  at 

*  I  do  not  entirely  understand  Professor  Mila's  arranf,'6- 
ment  of  those  texts  which  he  has  not  printed  in  fall,  and  it 
48 


midnight  and  his  horse  at  dawn,  A-D,  A„  Briz 
2,  and  gives  directions  for  his  burial  and  that 
of  his  horse.  Let  the  bells  toll  when  he  is 
dead,  and  when  people  ask  for  whom  it  is,  the 
answer  will  be.  For  Don  Joan,  Briz  1,  Gast6, 
Mild,  Bj,  who  was  killed  in  battle.  Let  his 
arms  be  put  over  the  place  where  his  horse  is 
buried,  and  when  people  ask  whose  arms  they 
are  his  mother  will  say,  My  son's,  who  died 
in  battle,  Mild  A,  Bi.  Let  a  drawn  sword  be 
laid  across  his  grave,  and  let  those  that  ask 
who  killed  him  be  told,  Don  Joan,  at  the  chase, 
Mild,  A,.* 

We  have,  probably,  to  do  with  two  different 
ballads  here,  versions  A-F  of  Mild's  '  Guerrero 
mal  herido,'  and  Briz's  second,  belonging  with 
'  Don  Joan  y  Don  Ramon,'  while  ApG,  of 
Mild,  and  Briz's  first,  represent  a  ballad  of  the 
Renaud  class.  It  is,  however,  possible  that 
the  first  series  may  be  imperfect  copies  of  the 
second. 

'  Don  Joan  y  Don  Ramon  '  has  agreements 
with  Italian  B,  A :  in  B,  particularly,  we  note 
the  hundred  and  fifty  stabs  of  the  knight  and 
the  ninety  of  his  horse. 

Portuguese.  A  good  Portuguese  version, 
'  D.  Pedro  e  D.  Leonarda,'  in  fifty  short 
verses,  unfortunately  lacking  the  conclusion, 
has  been  lately  communicated  to  Romania 
(XI,  585)  by  Leite  de  Vasconcellos.  Dom 
Pedro  went  hunting,  to  be  gone  a  year  and  a 
day,  but  was  compelled  to  return  home  owing 
to  a  malady  which  seized  him.  His  mother 
greets  him  with  the  information  that  his  wife 
has  given  birth  to  a  son.  "  Comfort  and 
cheer  her,"  he  says,  "  and  for  me  make  a  bed, 
which  I  shall  never  rise  from."  The  wife 
asks.  Where  is  my  husband,  that  he  does  not 
come  to  see  me  ?  "  He  has  gone  a-hunting 
for  a  year  and  a  day,"  replies  the  mother. 
What  is  this  commotion  in  the  house  ?  "  Only 
visitors."  But  the  bells  are  tolling!  Could 
it  be  for  my  husband  ?  "  No,  no ;  it  is  for 
a  feast-day."  When  do  women  go  to  mass 
after  child-birth  ?  "  Some  in  three  weeks  and 
some  in  two,  but  a  lady  of  your  rank  after 
a  year  and  a  day."    And  what  color  do  they 

is  very  likely  that  more  of  his  copies  than  I  have  cited  exhibit 
some  of  the  traits  specified. 


386 


42     CLERK   COLVILL 


wear  ?  "  Some  light  blue  and  some  a  thou- 
sand wonders,  but  you,  as  a  lady  of  rank,  will 
go  in  mourning."  The  ballad  stops  abruptly 
with  a  half-pettish,  half-humorous  imprecation 
from  the  daughter-in-law  against  the  mother 
for  keeping  her  shut  up  so  long. 

There  is  a  Shivic  ballad,  which,  like  the  ver- 
sions that  are  so  popular  with  the  Romance 
nations,  abridges  the  first  part  of  the  story, 
and  makes  the  interest  turn  upon  the  gradual 
discovery  of  the  hero's  death,  but  in  other  re- 
spects agrees  with  northern  tradition. 

Bohemian.  A  a.  Erben,  p.  473,  No  9, 
Herman  a  Dornicka  =:  Waldau,  Bohmische 
Granaten,  I,  73,  No  100;  b.  Celakowsky,  I, 
26  =  Haupt  u.  Schmaler,  I,  327.  B.  Erben, 
p.  475.  C.  Moravian,  Susil,  p.  82,  No  89  a, 
'  Nest'astnd  svatba,'  '  The  Doleful  Wedding.' 
D.  Susil,  p.  83,  No  89  b.  E.  Slovak,  tela- 
kowsk}',  I,  80. 

Wendish.  A.  Haupt  und  Schmaler,  I,  31, 
No  3,  '  Zrudny  kwas,'  '  The  Doleful  Wed- 
ding.' B.  n,  131,  No  182,  '  Plakajuen  iiew- 
esta,'  '  The  Weeping  Bride '  (the  last  eight 
stanzas,  the  ten  before  being  in  no  connec- 
tion). 

The  hero  on  his  wedding  day  is  making 
ready  his  horse  to  fetch  the  bride ;  for  he  is, 
as  in  the  Scandinavian  ballads,  not  yet  a  mar- 
ried man.  His  mother,  Bohemian  A,  ascer- 
taining his  intention,  begs  him  not  to  go  him- 
self with  the  bridal  escort.  Obviously  she  has 
a  premonition  of  misfortune.  Herman  will 
never  invite  guests,  and  not  go  for  them.  The 
mother,  in  an  access  of  passion,  exclaims,  If 
you  go,  may  you  break  your  neck,  and  never 
come  back  !  Here  we  are  reminded  of  the 
Faroe  ballad.  Bohemian  C,  D  make  the  fore- 
bodings to  rise  in  Herman's  mind,  not  in  his 
mother's.  The  mother  opposes  the  match  in 
Bohemian  B,  and  the  sister  wishes  that  he 
may  break  his  neck.  Wendish  A  has  nothing 
of  opposition  or  bodement  before  the  start, 
but  the  crows  go  winging  about  the  young  men 
who  are  going  for  the  bride,  and  caw  a  hor- 
rible song,  how  the  bridegroom  shall  fall  from 
his  horse  and  break  his  neck.  The  train  sets 
off  with  a  band  of  trumpets,  drums,  and 
stringed  instruments,  or,  Bohemian  D,  with  a 


discharge  of  a  hundred  muskets,  and  when 
they  come  to  a  linden  in  a  meadow  Herman's 
horse  "  breaks  his  foot,"  and  the  rider  his 
neck  ;  Bohemian  D,  when  they  come  to  a  copse 
in  a  meadow  the  hundred  pieces  are  again 
discharged,  and  Herman  is  mortally  wounded. 
His  friends  stand  debating  what  they  shall  do. 
The  dying  man  bids  them  keep  on  :  since  the 
bride  cannot  be  his,  she  shall  be  his  youngest 
brother's,  Bohemian  A,  C ;  cf.  Danish  L,  O, 
R,  Norwegian  C,  F.  The  train-  arrives  at  the 
bride's  house  ;  the  bride  comes  out  to  greet 
them,  but,  not  seeing  the  bridegroom,  inquires 
affrightedly  what  has  become  of  him.  They 
pretend  that  he  has  remained  nt  home  to  see 
to  the  tables.  The  mother  is  reluctant  to  give 
them  the  bride,  but  finally  yields.  When  the 
train  comes  again  to  the  linden  in  the  mead, 
Dorothy  sees  blood.  It  is  Herman's !  she 
cries  ;  but  they  assure  her  that  it  is  the  blood 
of  a  deer  that  Herman  had  killed  for  the 
feast.  They  reach  Herman's  house,  where  the 
bride  has  an  appalling  reception,  which  need 
not  be  particularized. 

In  Bohemian  A,  while  they  are  at  supper 
(or  at  half-eve  =:  three  in  the  afternoon),  a 
death-bell  is  heard.  Dorothy  turns  pale. 
For  whom  are  they  tolling?  Surely  it  is  for 
Herman.  They  tell  her  that  Herman  is  lying 
in  his  room  with  a  bad  headache,  and  that  the 
bell  is  ringing  for  a  child.  But  she  guesses 
the  truth,  sinks  down  and  dies,  a.  She  wears 
two  knives  in  her  hair,  and  thrusts  one  of 
them  into  her  heart,  b.  The  two  are  buried 
in  one  grave.  In  Bohemian  B  the  bell  sounds 
for  the  first  time  as  the  first  course  is  brought 
on,  and  a  second  time  when  the  second  course 
comes.  The  bride  is  told  in  each  case  that 
the  knell  is  for  a  child.  Upon  the  third  sound- 
ing, when  the  third  course  is  brought  in,  they 
tell  her  that  it  is  for  Herman.  She  seizes 
two  knives  and  runs  to  the  graveyard  :  with 
one  she  digs  herself  a  grave,  and  with  the 
other  stabs  herself.  In  the  Wendish  fragment 
B,  at  the  first  and  second  course  Cthere  is  no 
bell)  the  bride  asks  where  the  bridegroom  is, 
and  at  the  third  repeats  the  question  with 
tears.  She  is  told  that  he  is  ranging  the 
woods,    killing  game   for   his   wedding.      In- 


42.    CLERK   COLVILL 


387 


Bohemian  C  the  bell  tolls  while  they  are  get- 
ting the  table  ready.  The  bride  asks  if  it  is 
for  Herman,  and  is  told  that  it  is  for  a  child. 
When  they  sit  down  to  table,  the  bells  toll 
again.  For  whom  should  this  be?  For 
whom  but  Herman  ?  She  springs  out  of  the 
window,  and  the  catastrophe  is  the  same  as  in 
Bohemian  B.  In  D  the  bride  hears  the  bell 
as  the  train  is  approaching  the  house,  and  they 
say  it  is  for  a  child.  On  entering  the  court 
she  asks  where  Heiman  is.  He  is  in  the  cel- 
lar drawing  wine  for  his  guests.  She  asks 
again  for  Herman  as  the  company  sits  down 
to  table,  and  the  answer  is.  In  the  chamber, 
lying  in  a  coiBn.  She  springs  from  the  table 
and  rushes  to  the  chamber,  seizing  two  golden 
knives,  one  of  which  she  plunges  into  her 
heart.  In  Bohemian  E,  when  the  bride  arrives 
at  John  the  bridegroom's  house,  and  asks  where 
he  is,  they  tell  her  she  had  better  go  to  bed 
till  midnight.  The  moment  she  touches  John 
she  springs  out  of  bed,  and  cries,  Dear  people, 
why  have  ye  laid  a  living  woman  with  a  dead 
man  ?  They  stand,  saying.  What  shall  we 
give  her,  a  white  cap  or  a  green  chaplet  ? 
"  I  have  not  deserved  the  white  (widow's) 
cap,"  she  says ;  "  I  have  deserved  a  green 
chaplet."  In  Wendish  A,  when  the  bell  first 
knolls,  the  bride  asks.  Where  is  the  bride- 
groom ?  and  they  answer.  In  the  new  cham- 
ber, putting  on  his  fine  clotlies.  A  second 
toll  evokes  a  second  inquiry ;  and  they  say  he 


is  in  the  new  room,  putting  on  his  sword. 
The  third  time  they  conceal  nothing  :  He  fell 
off  his  horse  and  broke  his  neck.  "  Then  tear 
off  my  fine  clothes  and  dress  me  in  white,  that 
I  may  mourn  a  year  and  a  day,  and  go  to 
church  in  a  green  chaplet,  and  never  forget 
him  that  loved  me  !  "  It  will  be  remembered 
that  the  bride  takes  her  own  life  in  Norwe- 
gian A,  C,  D,  and  in  Swedish  B,  as  she  does 
in  Bohemian  A  b,  B,  C,  D. 

B  is  translated  by  Grundtvig,  Engelske  og 
skotske  Folkeviser,  p.  305,  No  48  ;  by  Doen- 
niges,  p.  25. 

'  Der  Ritter  von  Staufenberg '  is  translated 
by  Jamieson,  from  the  "  Romanzen  "  in  the 
Wunderhorn,  in  Illustrations  of  Northern 
Antiquities,  p.  257.  Danish  A  by  Prior,  II, 
301 ;  B  by  Jamieson,  Popular  Ballads,  I,  219, 
and  by  Prior,  II,  306,  Buchanan,  p.  52.  '  The 
Erl-King's  Daughter,'  "  Danish,"  in  Lewis's 
Tales  of  Wonder,  I,  53,  No  10,  is  rendered 
from  Herder.  Swedish  A  by  Keightley,  Fairy 
Mythology,  p.  84  ;  B  by  Keightley,  p.  82,  and 
by  William  and  Mary  Howitt,  Literature  and 
Romance  of  Northern  Europe,  I,  269.  There 
is  a  version  from  Swedish  by  J.  H.  Dixon,  in 
Notes  and  Queries,  4th  Series,  I,  168.  Bre- 
ton D  by  Keightley,  as  above,  p.  433,  and  by 
Tom  Taylor,  Ballads  and  Songs  of  Brittany, 
'Lord  Nann  and  the  Fairy,'  p.  9.  Bohemian 
A  b  by  Bowi-ing,  Cheskian  Anthology,  p.  69. 


From  a  transcript  from  William  Tytler's  Brown  MS. 

1  Clark  Colven  and  his  gay  ladie. 

As  they  walked  to  yon  garden  green, 
A  belt  about  her  middle  gimp, 

Which  cost  Clark  Colven  crowns  fifteen : 


For  I  nae  saw  a  fair  woman 
I  like  so  well  as  thee.' 

4  He  mounted  on  his  beny-brown  steed, 
And  merry,  merry  i-ade  he  on, 
Till  he  came  to  the  wall  o  Stream, 
And  there  he  saw  the  mermaiden. 


2  '  0  hearken  weel  now,  my  good  lord, 

O  hearken  weel  to  what  I  say ; 
When  ye  gang  to  the  wall  o  Stream, 
0  gang  nae  neer  the  well-fared  may.' 

3  '  O  hand  your  tongue,  my  gay  ladie, 

Tak  nae  sic  care  o  me ; 


5  '  Ye  wash,  ye  wash,  ye  bonny  may. 

And  ay  's  ye  wash  your  sark  o  silk  : ' 
'  It 's  a'  for  you,  ye  gentle  knight, 
My  skin  is  whiter  than  the  milk.' 

6  He  's  taen  her  by  the  milk-white  hand, 

He  's  taen  lier  by  the  sleeve  sae  green, 


388 


42.    CLERK   COLVILL 


And  he  's  forgotten  his  gay  ladie, 
And  away  with  the  fair  maiden. 


7  '  Ohon,  alas  ! '  says  Clark  Colven, 

'  And  aye  sae  sair  's  I  mean  my  head  ! ' 
And  merrily  leugh  the  mermaiden, 
'  O  win  on  tUl  you  be  dead. 

8  '  But  out  ye  tak  your  little  pen-knife, 

And  frae  my  sark  ye  shear  a  gare  ; 
Row  that  about  your  lovely  head, 

And  the  pain  ye  '11  never  feel  nae  mair.' 

9  Out  he  has  taen  his  little  pen-knife, 

And  frae  her  sark  he  's  shorn  a  gare. 
Rowed  that  about  his  lovely  head. 

But  the  pain  increased  mair  and  mair. 

10  '  Ohon,  alas  ! '  says  Clark  Colven, 

'  An  aye  sae  sair  'a  I  mean  my  head ! ' 


And  merrily  laughd  the  mermaiden, 
'  It  wiU  ay  be  war  tUl  ye  be  dead.' 

11  Then  out  he  drew  his  trusty  blade. 

And  thought  wi  it  to  be  her  dead. 
But  she  's  become  a  fish  again. 

And  merrily  sprang  into  the  fleed. 

12  He  's  mounted  on  his  berry-brown  steed, 

And  dowy,  dowy  rade  he  home, 
And  heavily,  heavily  lighted  down 

When  to  his  ladle's  bower-door  he  came. 

13  '  Oh,  mither,  mither,  mak  my  bed. 

And,  gentle  ladie,  lay  me  down ; 
Oh,  brither,  brither,  unbend  my  bow, 
'T  will  never  be  bent  by  me  again.' 

14  His  mither  she  has  made  his  bed. 

His  gentle  ladie  laid  him  down, 

His  brither  he  has  unbent  his  bow, 

'T  was  never  bent  by  him  again. 


B 


Herd's  Ancient  and  Modern  Scots  Songs,  1769,  p.  302  ; 
ed.  1776,1,  161. 

1  Clerk  Colvill  and  his  lusty  dame 

Were  walking  in  the  garden  green  ; 
The  belt  around  her  stately  waist 
Cost  Clerk  Colvill  of  pounds  fifteen. 

2  '  0  promise  me  now.  Clerk  Colvill, 

Or  it  will  cost  ye  muckle  strife. 
Ride  never  by  the  wells  of  Slane, 
If  ye  wad  live  and  brook  your  life.' 

3  *  Now  speak  nae  mair,  my  lusty  dame, 

Now  speak  nae  mair  of  that  to  me ; 
Did*I  neer  see  a  fair  woman, 
But_I  wad  sin  with  her  body  ?' 

4  He  's  taen  leave  o  his  gay  lady. 

Nought  minding  what  his  lady  said, 
And  he  's  rode  by  the  wells  of  Slane, 
Where  washing  was  a  bonny  maid. 

5  '  Wash  on,  wash  on,  my  bonny  maid, 

That  wash  sae  clean  your  sark  of  silk ; ' 
'  And  weel  fa  you,  fair  gentleman. 
Your  body  whiter  than  the  milk.' 


6  Then  loud,  loud  cry'd  the  Clerk  Colvill, 

'  0  my  head  it  pains  me  sair  ; ' 
'  Then  take,  then  take,'  the  maiden  said, 
'  And  frae  my  sark  you  '11  cut  a  gare.' 

7  Then  she  's  gied  him  a  little  bane-knife. 

And  frae  her  sark  he  cut  a  share ; 
She  's  ty'd  it  round  his  whey-white  face. 
But  ay  his  head  it  aked  mair. 

8  Then  louder  cry'd  the  Clerk  Colvill, 

'  0  sairer,  sairer  akes  my  head ; ' 
*  And  sairer,  sairer  ever  will,' 

The  maiden  crys,  '  till  you  be  dead.' 

9  Out  then  he  drew  his  shining  blade. 

Thinking  to  stick  her  where  she  stood. 
But  she  was  vanishd  to  a  fish. 

And  swam  far  off,  a  fair  mermaid. 

10  '  O  mother,  mother,  braid  my  hair ; 
My  lusty  lady,  make  my  bed  ; 
0  brother,  take  my  sword  and  spear. 
For  I  have  seen  the  false  mermaid.' 


43.    CLERK   COLVILL 


389 


Notes  and  Queries,  4th  Series,  VIII,  510,  from  the  recita- 
tion of  a  lady  in  Forfarshire. 

1  Clerk  Colin  and  his  mother  dear 

Were  in  the  garden  green  ; 
The  hand  that  was  about  her  neck 

Cost  Colin  pounds  fifteen  ; 
The  belt  about  her  middle  sae  sma 

Cost  twice  as  much  again. 


6  An  when  he  cam  to  the  Clyde's  water 

He  lichted  lowly  down, 
An  there  he  saw  the  mermaiden, 
Wasliin  silk  upon  a  stane. 

7  '  Come  down,  come  down,  now,  Clerk  Colin, 

Come  down  an  [fish]  wi  me ; 
I  'U  row  ye  in  my  arms  twa, 
An  a  foot  I  sanna  jee.' 


2  '  Forbidden  gin  ye  wad  be,  love  Colin, 

Forbidden  gin  ye  wad  be. 
And  gang  nae  mair  to  Clyde's  water, 
To  court  yon  gay  ladie.' 

3  '  Forbid  me  frae  your  ha,  mother, 

Forbid  me  frae  your  hour, 
But  forbid  me  not  frae  yon  ladie  ; 
She  's  fair  as  ony  flour. 

4  '  Forbidden  I  winna  be,  mother, 

Forbidden  I  winna  be, 
For  I  maun  gang  to  Clyde's  water, 
To  court  yon  gay  ladie.' 

5  An  he  is  on  his  saddle  set, 

As  fast  as  he  could  win. 
An  he  is  on  to  Clyde's  water, 
By  the  lee  licht  o  the  moon. 


8  '  0  mother,  mother,  mak  my  bed, 

And,  sister,  lay  me  doun. 
An  brother,  tak  my  bow  an  shoot, 
For  my  shooting  is  done.' 

9  He  wasna  weel  laid  in  his  bed. 

Nor  yet  weel  fa'en  asleep, 
When  up  an  started  the  mermaiden, , 
Just  at  Clerk  Colin's  feet. 

10  '  Will  ye  lie  there  an  die,  Clerk  Colin, 

WLU  ye  lie  there  an  die  ? 
Or  will  ye  gang  to  Clyde's  water. 
To  fish  in  flood  wi  me  ?  ' 

11  '  I  will  lie  here  an  die,'  he  said, 

'  I  wiU  lie  here  an  die  ; 
In  spite  o  a'  the  deUs  in  heU 
I  will  lie  here  an  die.' 


B. 
C. 


7^.  laugh ;  hut  we  have  laughd  in  10*. 

9*.  Bowed  seems  to  he  written  Boimd,  possibly 

Rowad. 
14*.  brother. 

5*.  The  edition  of  VIIQ  has  hoAy's. 
7.  When  tliey  part  he  returns  home,  and  on  the 
way  his  head  becomes  "  wondrous  sair  :  " 
seemingly  a  comment  of  the  reciter. 


The  Ahhotsford  copy  in  "  Scottish  Songs," 
fol.  3,  fias  these  readings,  not  found  in 
Lewis,  the  Brown  MS.,  or  Herd. 
3^  And  dinna  deave  me  wi  your  din  :  Lewis, 

And  haud,  my  Lady  gay,  your  din. 
6'.  He  's  laid  her  on  the  flowery  green. 


390 


43.    THE  BROOMFIELD  HILL 


43 

THE   BROOMFIELD  HILL 

A.  '  The  Broomfield  Hill.'     a.  Scott's  Minstrelsy,  III,       D.   '  Lord  John,'  Kinloch's  Ancient   Scottish  Ballads, 
271,  1803.     b.  The  same,  II,  229,  1802.  p.  195. 

B.  '  I  'II  wager,  I  'II  wager,'  etc.,  Herd's   Ancient  and      E.   Joseph  Robertson's  Note-Book,  January,  1830,  p.  7. 
Modern  Scots  Songs,  1769,  p.  310. 

F.   '  The    Merry   Broomfield,   or   The   West   Country 

C.  '  Broomfield  Hills,'  Buchan's  Ballads  of  the  North  Wager.'     a.  Douce  Ballads,  III,  fol.  64''.    b.   The 
of  Scotland,  II,  291.                                                                    same,  IV,  fol.  10. 


A  SONG  of  '  Brume,  brume  on  bil '  is  one 
of  those  named  In  The  Complaint  of  Scotland, 
1549,  p.  64  of  Dr  J.  A.  H.  Murray's  edition. 
"  The  foot  of  the  song  "  is  sung,  with  others, 
by  Moros  in  Wager's  "very  merry  and  pithy 
Comedy  called  The  longer  thou  livest  tbe 
more  fool  thou  art,"  c.  1568.  '  Broom,  broom 
on  hil '  is  also  one  of  Captain  Cox's  "  bunch 
of  ballets  and  songs,  all  auncient,"  No  53  of 
the  collection,  1575.*  The  lines  that  Moros 
sings  are : 

Brome,  brome  on  hill. 
The  gentle  brome  on  hill,  hill, 
Brome,  brome  on  Hive  hill. 
The  gentle  brome  on  Hive  hill, 
The  brome  stands  on  Hive  hill  a. 

"  A  more  sanguine  antiquary  than  the  ed- 
itor," says  Scott,  "  might  perhaps  endeavor  to 
identify  this  poem,  which  is  of  undoubted  an- 
tiquity, with  the  '  Broom,  broom  on  hill '  men- 
tioned ...  as  forming  part  of  Captain  Cox's 
collection."  Assuredly  "  Broom,  broom  on 
hill,"  if  that  were  all,  would  justify  no  such 

•  Fumivall,  Captain  Cox,  his  Ballads  and  Books,  pp 
cxxvii  f.  KitBon  cited  the  comedy  in  the  dissertation  prefixed 
to  his  Ancient  Songs,  1790,  p.  Ix. 

t  Motherwell  remarks,  at  page  42  of  his  Introduction, 
"  The  song  is  popular  still,  and  is  often  to  be  met  with."  It 
was  printed  in  a  cheap  American  song-book,  which  I  have 
not  been  able  to  recover,  under  the  title  of  '  The  Green 
Broomfield,'  and  with  some  cis-atlantic  variations.  Graham's 
Illustrated  Magazine,  September,  1858,  gives  these  stanzas: 

"  Then  when  she  went  to  the  green  broom  field, 
Where  her  love  was  fast  asleep, 


identification,  but  the  occurrence  of  Hive  hill, 
both  in  the  burden  which  Moros  sings  and  in 
the  eighth  stanza  of  Scott's  ballad,  is  a  circum- 
stance that  would  embolden  even  a  very  cau- 
tious antiquary,  if  he  had  received  Hive  hill 
from  tradition,  and  was  therefore  unaffected 
by  a  suspicion  that  this  locality  had  been  in- 
troduced by  an  editor  from  the  old  song.f 

Most  of  the  versions  give  no  explicit  account 
of  the  knight's  prolonged  sleep.  He  must 
needs  be  asleep  when  the  lady  comes  to  him, 
else  there  would  be  no  story ;  but  his  heavy 
slumber,  not  broken  by  all  the  efforts  of  his 
horse  and  his  hawk,  is  as  a  matter  of  course 
not  natural ;  es  geht  nicht  zu  mit  rechten 
dingen ;  the  witch-wife  of  A  4  is  at  the  bot- 
tom of  that.  And  yet  the  broom-flowers 
strewed  on  his  hals-bane  in  A  8,  B  3,  and  the 
roses  in  D  6,  are  only  to  be  a  sign  that  the 
maid  had  been  there  and  was  gone.  Consid- 
ering the  character  of  many  of  Buchan's  ver- 
sions, we  cannot  feel  sure  that  C  has  not  bor- 
rowed the  second  and  third  stanzas  from  B, 
and  the  witch- wife,  in  the  sixth,  from  A ;  but 

With  a  gray  ^oosc-hawk  and  a  green  laurel  bough, 
And  a  green  broom  under  his  feet. 

"  And  when  he  awoke  from  out  his  sleep, 

An  angry  man  was  he ; 
He  looked  to  the  East,  and  he  looked  to  the  West, 

And  he  wept  for  his  sweetheart  to  see. 

"  Oh !  where  was  you,  my  gray  ^oose-hawk, 

Tlie  hawk  that  I  loved  so  dear. 
That  you  did  not  awake  me  from  out  my  sleep, 

When  my  sweetheart  was  so  near?  " 


43.    THE  BROOMFIELD  HILL 


391 


it  would  be  extravagant  to  call  in  question  the 
genuineness  of  C  as  a  -whole.  The  eighth 
stanza  gives  us  the  light  which  we  require. 

'  Ye  '11  pu  the  bloom  frae  aff  the  broom, 

Strew  't  at  his  head  and  feet, 
And  aye  the  thicker  that  ye  do  strew, 
The  sounder  he  wiU  sleep.' 

The  silver  belt  about  the  knight's  head  in 
A  5  can  hardly  have  to  do  with  his  sleeping, 
and  to  me  seems  meaningless.  It  is  possible 
that  roses  are  not  used  at  random  in  D  6, 
though,  like  the  posie  of  pleasant  perfume  in 
F  9,  they  serve  only  to  prove  that  the  lady 
had  been  there.  An  excrescence  on  the  dog- 
rose,  rosenschwamm,  schlafkunz,  kunz,  schlaf- 
apfel,  it  is  believed  in  Germany,  if  laid  under 
a  man's  pillow,  will  make  him  sleep  till  it  is 
taken  away.  Grimm,  Deutsche  Mythologie, 
p.  1008,  and  Deutsches  Worterbuch  (Hilde- 
brand),  V,  2753  e. 

C  makes  the  lady  hide  in  the  broom  to  hear 
what  the  knight  will  say  when  he  wakes,  and 
in  this  point  agrees  with  the  broadside  F,  as 
also  in  the  comment  made  by  the  men  on 
their  master  in  stanza  24  ;  cf.  F  16. 

Mr  J.  W.  Dixon  has  reprinted  an  Alder- 
mary  Churchyard  copy  of  the  broadside,  dif- 
fering as  to  four  or  five  words  only  from  F, 
in  Ancient  Poems,  Ballads,  and  Songs  of  the 
Peasantry  of  England,  p.  116,  Percy  Society, 
Volume  XVII.  The  editor  remarks  that  A 
is  evidently  taken  from  F ;  from  which  it  is 
clear  that  the  pungent  buckishness  of  the 
broadside  does  not  necessarily  make  an  im- 
pression. A  smells  of  the  broom  ;  F  suggests 
the  groom.* 

The  sleep  which  is  produced  in  A  by  strew- 
ing the  flower  of  the  broom  on  a  man's  head 
and  feet,  according  to  a  witch's  advice,  is 
brought  about  in  two  Norse  ballads  by  means 
not  simply  occult,  but  altogether  preternatu- 
ral ;  that  is,  by  the  power  of  runes.  One  of 
these,  '  Somn-runorna,'  Arwidsson,  II,  249, 
No  133,  is  preserved  in  a  manuscript  of  the 
end  of  the  seventeenth,  or  the  beginning  of  the 
eighteenth,  century.     The  other,  '  Sovnerun- 


crne,'  Grundtvig,  II,  337,  No  81,  was  taken 
down  in  1847  from  the  singing  of  a  woman 
seventy-five  years  of  age. 

The  Swedish  ballad  runs  thus.  There  is  a 
damsel  in  our  land  who  every  night  will  sleep 
with  a  man,  and  dance  a  maid  in  the  morning. 
The  fame  of  this  comes  to  the  ears  of  the  son 
of  the  king  of  England,  who  orders  his  horse, 
thinking  to  catch  this  damsel.  When  he  ar- 
rives at  the  castle  gate,  there  stands  the  lady, 
and  asks  him  what  is  his  haste.  He  frankly 
answers  that  he  expects  to  get  a  fair  maid's 
honor  for  his  pains,  and  she  bids  him  follow 
her  to  the  upper  room.  She  lays  sheets  on 
the  bed,  and  writes  strong  runes  on  them. 
The  youth  sits  down  on  the  bed,  and  is  asleep 
before  he  can  stretch  himself  out.  He  sleeps 
through  that  day,  and  the  next,  and  into  the 
third.  Then  the  lady  rouses  him.  "  Wake 
up ;  you  are  sleeping  your  two  eyes  out."  He 
is  still  so  heavy  that  he  can  hardly  stir.  He 
offers  her  his  horse  and  saddle  to  report  the 
matter  as  he  wishes.  "  Keep  your  horse,"  she 
says  ;  "  shame  fa  such  liars." 

The  Danish  story  is  much  the  same.  One 
of  a  king's  fivp  sons  goes  to  make  trial  of  the 
maid.  She  tells  him  to  fasten  his  horse  while 
she  goes  before  and  unlocks;  calls  to  her  maid 
to  bring  five  feather-beds,  feather-beds  nine, 
and  write  a  sleep  on  each  of  them.  He  sleeps 
through  three  days,  and  is  roused  the  fourth, 
with  "  Wake  up,  wake  up  ;  you  have  slept 
away  your  pluck."  He  offers  her  a  bribe,  as 
before,  which  she  scornfully  rejects,  assuring 
him  that  he  will  not  be  spared  when  she 
comes  among  maids  and  knights. 

A  sleep  produced  by  runes  or  gramarye  is 
one  of  the  two  main  incidents  of  a  tale  in  the 
Gesta  Romanorum,  better  known  through  the 
other,  which  is  the  forfeit  of  flesh  for  money 
not  forthcoming  at  the  day  set,  as  in  the  Mer- 
chant of  Venice :  Latin,  Oesterley,  No  195, 
p.  603  ;t  English,  Harleian  MS.  7333,  No 
40,  printed  by  Douce,  Illustrations  of  Shak- 
spere,  I,  281,  Madden,  p.  130,  Herrtage,  p. 
158  ;  German,  No  68,  of  the  printed  edition 
of  1489  (which  I  have  not  seen).     A  knight. 


•  The  broadside  is  also  copied  into  Buchan's  MSS,  II,  197.         t  The  Anglo-Latin  text  in  Harleian  MS.  2270,  No  48. 


392 


43.    THE  BROOMFIELD   HILL 


■who  Ilis  a  passion  for  an  emperor's  daughter, 
engages  to  give  a  thousand  [hundred]  marks 
for  being  once  admitted  to  her  bed.  He  in- 
stantly falls  asleep,  and  has  to  be  roused  in 
the  morning.  Like  terms  are  made  for  a  sec- 
ond night,  and  the  man's  lands  have  to  be 
pledged  to  raise  the  money.  He  sleeps  as  be- 
fore, but  stipulates  for  a  third  night  at  the 
same  price.  A  merchant  lends  him  the  thou- 
sand marks,  on  condition  that,  if  he  breaks  his 
day,  his  creditor  may  take  the  money's  weight 
of  flesh  from  his  body.  Feeling  what  a  risk 
he  is  now  running,  the  knight  consults  a  phi- 
losopher, Virgil,  in  the  English  version.  The 
philosopher  (who  in  the  Latin  version  says  he 
ought  to  know,  for  he  had  helped  the  lady  to 
her  trick)  tells  the  knight  that  between  the 
sheet  and  coverlet  of  the  bed  there  is  a  letter, 
which  causes  the  sleep ;  this  he  must  find, 
and,  when  found,  cast  far  from  the  bed.  The 
knight  follows  tliese  directions,  and  gets  the 
better  of  tlie  lady,  who  conceives  a  reciprocal 
passion  for  him,  and  delivers  him,  in  the  sequel, 
from  the  fearful  penalty  of  his  bond  by  plead- 
ing that  the  flesh  must  be  taken  without  shed- 
ding of  blood. 

The  romance  of  Dolopathos,  a  variety  of  the 
Seven  Wise  Masters,  written  about  1185,  con- 
siderably before  the  earliest  date  which  has 
hitherto  been  proposed  for  the  compilation  of 
the  Gesta,  has  this  story,  with  variations,  of 
which  only  these  require  to  be  noted.  The 
lady  has  herself  been  a  student  in  magic.  She 
is  wooed  of  many ;  all  comers  are  received, 
and  pay  a  hundred  marks ;  any  one  who  ac- 
complishes his  will  may  wed  her  the  next  day. 
An  enchanted  feather  of  a  screech-owl,  laid 
under  the  pillow,  makes  all  who  enter  the  bed 
fall  asleep  at  once,  and  many  have  been  baf- 
fled by  this  charm.  At  last  a  youth  of  high 
birth,  but  small  means,  tries  his  fortune,  and, 
failing  at  the  first  essay,  tries  once  more. 
Thinking  that  the  softness  of  his  couch  was 
the  cause  of  his  falling  asleep,  he  puts  away 


the  pillow,  and  in  this  process  the  feather  Is 
thrown  out :  lohannis  de  Alta  Silva  Dolopa- 
thos, ed.  esterley,  pp  57-59;  Herbers,  Li 
Romans  de  Dolopathos,  Brunei  et  Montaiglon, 
vv  7096-7498,  pp  244-59  ;  Le  Roux  de  Lincy, 
in  a  sequel  to  Loiseleur-Deslongchamps's  Es- 
sai  sur  les  Fables  indiennes,  pp  211  if.  This 
form  of  the  tale  is  found  In  German,  in  a  fif- 
teenth-century manuscript,  from  which  It  was 
printed  by  Haupt  in  Altdeutsche  Blatter,  I, 
143—49 ;  but  here  the  sleep  is  produced  by  the 
use  of  both  the  means  employed  in  the  Gesta 
and  in  Dolopathos,  letter  (runes)  and  feather, 
"  the  wild  man's  feather."  * 

Magic  is  di'opped,  and  a  sleeping  draught 
administered,  just  as  the  man  Is  going  to  bed, 
in  a  version  of  the  story  In  the  Pecorone  of 
Ser  Giovanni  Fiorentino,  Giornata,  IV",  Nov. 
la  (last  quarter  of  the  fourteenth  century). 
Upon  the  third  trial  the  man,  warned  by  a 
friendly  chambermaid  not  to  drink,  pours  the 
medicated  wine  into  his  bosom.  The  account 
of  Ser  Giovanni  is  adopted  in  Les  Adventures 
d'Abdalla  fils  d'Hanif,  etc..  La  Haye,  1713, 
Bibliotheque  de  Romans,  1778,  Janvier,  I, 
112-14,  143  f. 

Ellin  writes  sleep-runes  on  the  cushions  on 
which  her  husband  is  to  sleep,  in  the  Danish 
ballad  '  FrsendehiBvn,'  Grundtvig,  No  4,  A  33 
[C45]. 

In  Icelandic  tales  a  sleep-thorn  f  is  em- 
ployed, probably  a  thorn  inscribed  with  runes. 
The  thorn  is  stuck  into  the  clothes  or  into 
the  head  (the  ears,  according  to  the  popular 
notion,  Vigfusson),  and  the  sleep  lasts  till  the 
thorn  is  taken  out.  Odin  stuck  such  a  thorn 
into  Brynhlld's  garments :  Fdfnismdl,  43  ; 
Sigrdrffumdl,  7 ;  Volsunga  Saga,  Fornaldar 
Sogur,  I,  166.  The  thorn  is  put  into  the 
clothes  also  In  the  Icelandic  fairy-tale,  Mser- 
poU,  Maurer,  Isliindische  Volkssagen,  p.  286. 
(jlof,  to  save  herself  from  Helgi's  violence, 
and  to  punish  his  insolence,  sticks  him  with  a 
sleep-thorn  after  he    is   dead  drunk  :    Hr(')lfs 


*  Sy  .  .  .  bereytte  keyn  abende  das  bette  met  der  czobeiye 
met  der  schryft  und  met  des  wylden  mannea  veddere,  p.  145, 
linc3  8,  10-12;  das  quam  alles  von  der  czoyberye,  das  die 
juugfrowe  dy  knaben  alle  beczobert  hatte  met  schryft  und 
met  bryven,  dy  sy  en  under  dy  hobt  leyte  under  dy  kussen, 


und  met  den  veddern  von  den  wylden  ruchen  liiten,  lines  1-5. 
Only  one  letter  and  one  feather  is  employed  in  each  case. 

t  Svefnjjorn,  Danish  S0vntorn,  or  sevnpreen  :  blundstafir, 
sleep-staves,  rods  (if  not  letters,  runes)  in  Siyrdrifumal,  2. 


43.    THE   BBOOMFIELD   HILL 


393 


Saga  Kraka,  Forn.  S.  I,  18  f,  Torfffius,  p.  32. 
Vilhjdlmr  sticks  a  sleep-thorn  into  Hr6lfr,  and 
lie  lies  as  if  dead  so  long  as  the  thorn  is  in  him : 
Gaungu-Hr61fs  Saga,  Forn.  S.,  Ill,  303,  306. 

A  pillow  of  soporific  quality,  which  Kamele, 
by  Isot's  direction,  puts  under  Kaedin's  head, 
assures  her  safety  though  she  lies  all  night  by 
his  side :  Ulrich's  continuation  of  Gottfried's 
Tristan,  vv  1668-99, 1744-85;  and  Heinrich's 
continuation,  omitting  the  last  circumstance, 
vv  4861-4960  (J.  Grimm). 

The  witch-woman,  in  the  English  ballad, 
A  4,  represents  the  philosopher  in  the  Gesta, 
and  the  wager  in  the  other  versions  the  fee 
or  fine  exacted  by  the  lady  in  the  Gesta  and 
elsewhere. 

An  Italian  ballad,  a  slight  and  unmei'itable 
thing,  follows  the  story  of  Ser  Giovanni,  or 
agrees  with  it,  in  respect  to  the  sleeping- 
draught.  A  man  falls  in  with  a  girl  at  a 
spring,  and  offers  her  a  hundred  ducats,  or 
scudi,  per  una  nottina.  The  girl  says  that 
she  must  consult  her  mother.  The  mother 
advises  her  to  accept  the  offer :  she  will  give 
the  man  a  drug,  and  the  money  will  serve  for 
a  dowry.  The  man,  roused  in  the  morning, 
counts  out  the  money  with  one  hand  and 
wipes  his  eyes  with  the  other.  When  asked 
why  he  is  crying,  he  replies  that  the  money 
is  not  the  loss  he  weeps  for,  and  makes  a  sec- 
ond offer  of  the  same  amount.  The  girl 
wishes  to  refer  the  matter  to  her  mother  again, 
but  the  gallant  says  the  mother  shall  not 
take  him  in  a  second  time.  One  version  (A) 
ends  somewhat  more  respectably:  the  girl  de- 
clares that,  having  come  off  with  her  honor 
once,  she  will  not  again  expose  herself  to 
shame.  A.  Ferraro,  Canti  popolari  monfer- 
rini,  '  La  Ragazza  onesta,'  p.  66,  No  47.  B. 
Ferraro,  C.  p.  di  Ferrara,  Cento  e  Pontela- 
goscuro,  p.  53  (Cento)  No  4,  '  La  Ragazza 
onesta.'  C.  The  same,  p.  94  (Pontelagoscuro) 
No  8,  '  La  Brunetta,'  previously  in  Rivista  di 
Filologia  Romanza,  II,  200.  D.  Wolf,  Volks- 
lieder  aus  Venetien,  p.  74,  '  La  Contadina 
alia  Fonte.'  E.  Bernoni,  C.  p.  veneziani, 
Puntata  V,  No  4,  p.  6,  '  La  bella  Brunetta.' 
P.  Bolza,  Canzoni  p.   comasche,  p.   677,  No 

50 


57, '  L'Amante  deluso.'  Or.  Ive,  C.  p.  istriani, 
p.  324,  No  4,  'La  Contadina  alia  Fonte.' 
H.  Ginandrea,  C.  p.  marchigiani,  p.  277,  No 
12,  » La  Madre  indegna.'  I.  Ferraro,  C.  p. 
della  Bassa  Romagna,  Rivista  di  Letteratura 
popolare,  p.  57,  '  La  Ragazza  onesta.'  J.  Ca- 
setti  e  Imbriani,  C.  p.  della  Provincie  meridi- 
onali,  p.  1,  No  1  (Chieti),  the  first  sixteen 
verses.  K.  Archivio  per  Tradizioni  popolari, 
I,  89,  No  4,  '  La  Fand(;ll  e  lu  Caval(5re,'  the 
first  thirteen  lines. 

'  The  Sleepy  Merchant,'  a  modern  ballad, 
in  Kinloch's  MSS,  V,  26,  was  perhaps  fash- 
ioned on  some  traditional  report  of  the  story 
in  II  Pecorone.  The  girl  gives  the  merchant 
a  drink,  and  when  the  sun  is  up  starts  to  her 
feet,  crying,  "  I  'm  a  leal  maiden  yet !  "  The 
merchant  comes  back,  and  gets  another  di'am, 
but  "  tooms  it  a'  between  the  bolster  and  the 
wa,"  and  then  sits  up  and  sings. 

A  ballad  found  everywhere  in  Germany, 
but  always  in  what  appears  to  be  an  extremely 
defective  form,  must  originally,  one  would 
think,  have  had  some  connection  with  those 
which  we  ai'e  considering.  A  hunter  meets 
a  girl  on  the  heath,  and  takes  her  with  him  to 
his  hut,  where  they  pass  the  night.  She  rouses 
him  in  the  morning,  and  proclaims  herself 
still  a  maid.  The  hunter  is  so  chagrined  that 
he  is  of  a  mind  to  kill  her,  but  spares  her  life. 
'  Der  Jager,'  '  Der  ernsthafte  Jager,'  '  Des 
Jagers  Verdruss,'  '  Der  Jager  und  die  reine 
Jungfrau,'  '  Der  verschlafene  Jager  :  '  Mein- 
ert,  p.  203  ;  Wunderhorn,  1857,  I,  274,  Bir- 
linger  u.  Crecelius,  I,  190 ;  Biisching  u.  von 
der  Hagen,  p.  134,  No  61  ;  Nicolai,  Alma- 
nach,  I,  77  (fragment) ;  Erk  u.  Irmer,  ii,  12, 
No  15 ;  Meier,  p.  305,  No  170  ;  Prohle,  No 
54,  p.  81  ;  Fiedler,  p.  175  ;  Erk,  Liederhort, 
pp  377  f,  Nos  174,  174*  ;  Hoffmann  u.  Rich- 
ter,  p.  202,  No  176;  Ditfurth,  Frankische 
Volkslieder,  II,  26  f,  Nos  30,  31 ;  Norrenberg, 
Des  diilkener  Fiedlers  Liederbuch,  No  16,  p. 
20 ;  J.  A.  E.  Kohler,  Volksbrauch  im  Voigt- 
lande,  p.  307  ;  Jeitteles,  Volkslied  in  Steier- 
mark,  Archiv  fiir  Lit.  gesch.,  IX,  361,  etc.  ; 
Uhland,  No  104,  Niederdeutsches  Liederbuch, 
No  59,  '  vermuthlich  voin    Eingang   des   17. 


394 


43.    THE  BROOMFIELD   HILL 


Jhd.'  Cf.  Die  M&eget,  Flemish,  Biisching  u. 
von  der  Hagen,  p.  311 ;  Willems,  p.  160,  No 
61.* 


A  a  is  translated  by  Doenniges,  p.  3  ;  by 
Gerhard,  p.  146  ;  by  Arndt,  Bliitenlese,  p. 
226. 


a.  Scott's  Minstrelsy,  III,  271,  ed.  1803.    b.  Sts.  8-14 ; 
the  same,  11,  229,  ed.  1802. 

1  There  was  a  knight  and  a  lady  bright, 

Had  a  tnie  tryste  at  the  broom  ; 
The  ane  gaed  early  in  the  morning. 
The  other  in  the  afternoon. 

2  And  ay  she  sat  in  her  mother's  bower  door, 

And  ay  she  made  her  mane : 
'  O  whether  should  I  gang  to  the  Broomfield 
HUl, 
Or  should  I  stay  at  hame  ? 

3  '  For  if  I  gang  to  the  Broomfield  Hill, 

My  maidenhead  is  gone  ; 
And  if  I  chance  to  stay  at  hame, 
My  love  wiU  ca  me  manswom.' 

4  Up  then  spake  a  witch-woman, 

Ay  from  the  room  aboon  : 
'  0  ye  may  gang  to  the  Broomfield  HiU, 
And  yet  come  maiden  hame. 

5  '  For  when  ye  gang  to  the  Broomfield  Hill, 

Ye  '11  find  your  love  asleep, 
With  a  sUver  belt  about  his  head. 
And  a  broom-cow  at  his  feet. 

6  '  Take  ye  the  blossom  of  the  broom. 

The  blossom  it  smells  sweet. 
And  strew  it  at  your  true-love's  head, 
And  likewise  at  his  feet. 

7  '  Take  ye  the  rings  off  your  fingers, 

Put  them  on  his  right  hand. 


B 

Herd,  Ancient  and  Modern  Scots  Songs,  1769,  p.  310. 

1  '  I  'll  wager,  I  '11  wager,  I  'U  wager  with  you 
Five  hundred  merks  and  ten, 

•  The  first  stanza  of  the  German  ballad  occurs  in  a  music- 
book  of  1622 :  Hoffmann  u.  Richter,  p.  202,  who  add  that  the 
ballad  is  extant  in  Dutch  and  Flemish. 


To  let  him  know,  when  he  doth  awake, 
His  love  was  at  his  command.' 

8  She  pu'd  the  broom  flower  on  Hive  HiU, 

And  strewd  on  's  white  hals-bane, 
And  that  was  to  be  wittering  true 
That  maiden  she  had  gane. 

9  '  0  where  were  ye,  my  milk-white  steed. 

That  I  hae  coft  sae  dear. 
That  wadna  watch  and  waken  me 
When  there  was  maiden  here  ?  ' 

10  '  I  stamped  wi  my  foot,  master, 

And  gard  my  bridle  ring, 
But  na  kin  thing  wald  waken  ye, 
TUl  she  was  past  and  gane.' 

11  '  And  wae  betide  ye,  my  gay  goss-hawk, 

That  I  did  love  sae  dear. 
That  wadna  watch  and  waken  me 
When  there  was  maiden  here.' 

12  *  I  clapped  wi  my  wings,  master, 

And  aye  my  bells  I  rang, 
And  aye  cry'd,  Waken,  waken,  master. 
Before  the  ladye  gang.' 

13  '  But  haste  and  haste,  my  gude  white  steed, 

To  come  the  maiden  till. 
Or  a'  the  birds  of  gude  green  wood 
Of  your  flesh  shall  have  their  fill.' 

14  '  Ye  need  na  burst  your  gude  white  steed 

Wi  racing  oer  the  howm ; 
Nae  bird  flies  faster  through  the  wood. 
Than  she  fled  through  the  broom.' 


That  a  maid  shanae  go  to  yon  bonny  green 
wood. 
And  a  maiden  return  agen.' 

2  'I  '11  wager,  I  '11  wager,  I  '11  wager  with  you 
Five  hundred  merks  and  ten. 
That  a  maid  shall  go  to  yon  bonny  green  wood, 
And  a  maiden  return  agen.' 


43.    THE  BROOMFIELD   HILL 


395 


3  She  's  pu'd  the  blooms  aff  the  broom-bush, 

And  strewd  them  on  's  white  hass-bane  : 
'  This  is  a  sign  whereby  you  may  know 
That  a  maiden  was  here,  but  she  's  gane.' 

4  '  O  where  was  you,  my  good  gray  steed, 

That  I  hae  Iced  sae  dear  ? 
O  why  did  you  not  awaken  me 
When  my  true  love  was  here  ? ' 


5  '  I  stamped  with  my  foot,  master, 

And  gard  my  bridle  ring, 
But  you  wadnae  waken  from  your  sleep 
TiU  your  love  was  past  and  gane.' 

6  '  Now  I  may  sing  as  dreary  a  sang 

As  the  bird  sung  on  the  brier, 
For  my  true  love  is  far  removd. 
And  I  'U  neer  see  her  mair.' 


Buchan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  II,  291. 

1  Theke  was  a  knight  and  lady  bright 

Set  trysts  amo  the  broom. 
The  one  to  come  at  morning  ear, 
The  other  at  afternoon. 

2  '  I  '11  wager  a  wager  wi  you,'  he  said, 

'  An  hundred  merks  and  ten. 
That  ye  shall  not  go  to  Broomfield  HUls, 
Return  a  maiden  again.' 

3  '  I  'U  wager  a  wager  wi  you,'  she  said, 

'  A  hundred  pounds  and  ten. 
That  I  will  gang  to  Broomfield  Hills, 
A  maiden  return  again.' 

4  The  lady  stands  in  her  bower  door. 

And  thus  she  made  her  mane  : 
'  O  shall  I  gang  to  Broomfield  HUls, 
Or  shall  I  stay  at  hame  ? 

5  '  If  I  do  gang  to  Broomfield  Hills, 

A  maid  I  '11  not  return  ; 
But  if  I  stay  from  Broomfield  HUls, 
I  '11  be  a  maid  mis-sworn.' 

6  Then  out  it  speaks  an  auld  witch- wife. 

Sat  in  the  bower  aboon  : 
'  O  ye  shaU  gang  to  Broomfield  HUls, 
Ye  shaU  not  stay  at  hame. 

7  '  But  when  ye  gang  to  Broomfield  Hilk, 

Walk  nine  times  round  and  roimd  ; 
Down  below  a  bonny  burn  bank. 
Ye  'U  find  your  love  sleeping  sound. 

8  '  Ye  'U  pu  the  bloom  f  rae  a£E  the  broom, 

Strew  't  at  his  head  and  feet. 


And  aye  the  thicker  that  ye  do  strew. 
The  sounder  he  wiU  sleep. 

9  '  The  broach  that  is  on  your  napkin. 
Put  it  on  his  breast  bane. 
To  let  him  know,  when  he  does  wake, 
That 's  true  love  's  come  and  gane. 

10  '  The  rings  that  are  on  your  fingers, 

Lay  them  down  on  a  stane. 
To  let  him  know,  when  he  does  wake. 
That 's  true  love  's  come  and  gane. 

11  '  And  when  ye  hae  your  work  aU  done. 

Ye  'U  gang  to  a  bush  o'  broom. 
And  then  you  '11  hear  what  he  wiU  say. 
When  he  sees  ye  are  gane.' 

12  When  she  came  to  Broomfield  HUls, 

She  walkd  it  nine  times  round, 

And  down  below  yon  burn  bank. 

She  found  him  sleeping  sound. 

13  She  pu'd  the  bloom  frae  aff  the  broom, 

Strew'd  it  at 's  head  and  feet. 
And  aye  the  thicker  that  she  strewd, 
The  sounder  he  did  sleep. 

14  The  broach  that  was  on  her  napkin, 

She  put  on  his  breast  bane. 
To  let  him  know,  when  he  did  wake, 
His  love  was  come  and  gane. 

15  The  rings  that  were  on  her  fingers, 

She  laid  upon  a  stane. 
To  let  him  know,  when  he  did  wake. 
His  love  was  come  and  gane. 

16  Now  when  she  had  her  work  aU  dune, 

She  went  to  a  bush  o  broom. 


396 


43.    THE   BROOMFIELD   HILL 


That  she  might  hear  what  he  did  say, 
When  he  saw  she  was  gane. 

17  '  O  where  were  ye,  my  guid  grey  hound. 

That  I  paid  for  sae  dear. 
Ye  didna  waken  me  frae  my  sleep 
When  my  true  love  was  sae  near  ? ' 

18  '  I  scraped  wi  my  foot,  master, 

Till  a'  my  collars  rang, 
But  still  the  mair  that  I  did  scrape, 
Waken  woud  ye  nane.' 

19  '  Where  were  ye,  my  berry-brown  steed, 

That  I  paid  for  sae  dear. 
That  ye  woudna  waken  me  out  o  my  sleep 
When  my  love  was  sae  near  ? ' 

20  '  I  patted  wi  my  foot,  master. 

Till  a'  my  bridles  rang, 
But  still  the  mair  that  I  did  patt, 
Waken  woud  ye  nane.' 

21  '  0  where  were  ye,  my  gay  goss-hawk. 

That  I  paid  for  sae  dear. 
That  ye  woudna  waken  me  out  o  my  sleep 
When  ye  saw  my  love  near  ?  ' 

22  '  I  flapped  wi  my  wings,  master, 

Till  a'  my  bells  they  rang, 
But  stiU  the  mair  that  I  did  flap. 
Waken  woud  ye  nane.' 


23  '  0  where  were  ye,  my  merry  young  men. 

That  I  pay  meat  and  fee. 
Ye  woudna  waken  me  out  o'  my  sleep 
When  my  love  ye  did  see  ? ' 

24  '  Ye  '11  sleep  mair  on  the  night,  master, 

And  wake  mair  on  the  day  ; 
Gae  sooner  down  to  Broomfield  HiUs 
When  ye  've  sic  pranks  to  play. 

25  '  If  I  had  seen  any  armed  men 

Come  riding  over  the  hill  — 
But  I  saw  but  a  fair  lady 
Come  quietly  you  until.' 

26  '  O  wae  mat  worth  you,  my  young  men, 

That  I  pay  meat  and  fee. 
That  ye  woudna  waken  me  frae  sleep 
When  ye  my  love  did  see. 

27  '  0  had  I  waked  when  she  was  nigh. 

And  o  her  got  my  wiU, 
I  shoudna  cared  upon  the  morn 
Tho  sma  birds  o  her  were  fill.' 

28  When  she  went  out,  right  bitter  wept, 

But  singing  came  she  hame ; 
Says,  I  hae  been  at  Broomfield  Hills, 
And  maid  returnd  again. 


Einloch's  Ancient  Scottish  Ballads,  p.  195. 

1  '  I  'll  wager,  I  'U  wager,'  says  Lord  John, 

'  A  hundred  merks  and  ten. 
That  ye  winna  gae  to  the  bonnie  broom-fields, 
And  a  maid  return  again.' 

2  '  But  I  '11  lay  a  wager  wi  you.  Lord  John, 

A'  your  merks  oure  again. 
That  I  'U  gae  alane  to  the  bonnie  broom-fields, 
And  a  maid  return  again.' 

3  Then  Lord  John  mounted  his  grey  steed, 

And  his  hound  wi  his  bells  sae  bricht, 
And   swiftly  he   rade   to   the    bonny  broom- 
fields, 
Wi  his  hawks,  like  a  lord  or  knicht. 


4  '  Now  rest,  now  rest,  my  bonnie  grey  steed, 

My  lady  will  soon  be  here, 
And  I  '11  lay  my  head  aneath  this  rose  sae  red, 
And  the  bonnie  burn  sae  near.' 

5  But  sound,  sound  was  the  sleep  he  took, 

For  he  slept  till  it  was  noon. 
And  his  lady  cam   at  day,  left  a  taiken  and 
away, 
Gaed  as  licht  as  a  glint  o  the  moon. 

6  She  strawed  the  roses  on  the  ground, 

Threw  her  mantle  on  the  brier. 
And  the  belt  around  her  middle  sae  jimp, 
As  a  taiken  that  she  'd  been  there. 

7  The  rustling  leaves  flew  round  his  head, 

And  rousd  him  frae  his  dream ; 


43.    THE  BKOOMFIELD   HILL 


397 


He  saw  by  the  roses,  and  mantle  sae  green, 
That  his  love  had  been  there  and  was  gane. 

8  '  O  whare  was  ye,  my  gude  grey  steed, 

That  I  coft  ye  sae  dear. 
That  ye  didna  waken  your  master. 

Whan  ye  kend  that  his  love  was  here  ?  ' 

9  '  I  pautit  wi  my  foot,  master, 

Garrd  a'  my  bridles  ring, 
And  still  I  cried,  "Waken,  g^de  master, 
For  now  is  the  hour  and  time.' 


And  still  I  cried,  Waken,  gude  master, 
For  now  is  the  hour  and  time.' 

12  '  But  whare  was  ye,  my  hawks,  my  hawks. 

That  I  coft  ye  sae  dear. 
That  ye  didna  waken  your  master. 

Whan  ye  kend  that  his  love  was  here  ?  ' 

13  '  O  wyte  na  me,  now,  my  master  dear, 

I  garrd  a'  my  young  hawks  sing. 
And  still  I  cried.  Waken,  gude  master. 
For  now  is  the  hour  and  time.' 


10  '  Then  whare  was  ye,  my  bonnie  grey  hound,  14  '  Then  be  it  sae,  my  wager  gane. 


11 


That  I  coft  ye  sae  dear, 
That  ye  didna  waken  your  master. 

Whan  ye  kend  that  his  love  was  here  ?  ' 

*  I  pautit  wi  my  foot,  master, 
Garrd  a'  my  bells  to  ring. 


'Twin  skaith  frae  meikle  ill. 
For  gif  I   had  found  her   in   bonnie   broom- 
fields, 

O   her  heart's    blude   ye  'd   drunken   your 
fill.' 


E 


Joseph  Robertson's  Note-Book,  January  1,  1830,  p.  7. 

1  '  I  'll  wager,  I  'U  wager  wi  you,  fair  maid, 

Five  hunder  punds  and  ten. 
That  a  maid  winna  gae  to  the  bonnie  green 
bower, 
An  a  maid  return  back  agen.' 

2  '  I  'U  wager,  I  '11  wager  wi  you,  kin'  sir, 

Five  hunder  punds  and  ten, 
That  a  maid  I'U  gang  to  the  bonnie  green 
bower. 
An  a  maid  return  again.' 

3  But  when  she  cam  to  the  bonnie  green  bower. 

Her  true-love  was  fast  asleep ; 
Sumtimes  she  kist  his  rosie,  rosie  lips. 
An  his  breath  was  wondrous  sweet. 

4  Sometimes  she  went  to  the  crown  o  his  head, 

Sometimes  to  the  soles  o  his  feet. 
Sometimes  she  kist  bis  rosie,  rosie  lips. 
An  his  breath  was  wondrous  sweet. 

5  She  's  taen  a  ring  frae  her  finger. 

Laid  it  upon  his  breast-bane  ; 
It  was  for  a  token  that  she  had  been  there, 
That  she  had  been  there,  but  was  gane. 


6  '  Where   was  you,  where  was  ye,  my  merry- 

men  a'. 
That  I  do  luve  sae  dear. 
That  ye  didna  waken  me  out  o  my  sleep 
When  my  true  love  was  here  ? 

7  '  Where  was  ye,  where  was  ye,  my  gay  gos- 

hawk, 
Tliat  I  do  luve  sae  dear. 
That  ye  didna  waken  me  out  o  my  sleep 
Whan  my  true  love  was  here  ? ' 

8  '  Wi  my  wings  I  flaw,  kin'  sir. 

An  wi  my  bill  I  sang, 
But  ye  woudna  waken  out  o  yer  sleep 
Till  your  true  love  was  gane.' 

9  '  Where  was  ye,  my  bonnie  grey  steed. 

That  I  do  luve  sae  dear. 
That  ye  didna  waken  me  out  o  my  sleep 
When  my  true  love  was  here  ?  ' 

10  '  I  stampit  wi  my  fit,  maister, 
And  made  my  bridle  ring. 
But  ye  wadna  waken  out  o  yer  sleep. 
Till  your  true  love  was  gane.' 


398 


43.    THE  BROOMFIELD  HILL 


P 


a.  Donee  Ballads,  III,  fol.  64b :  Newcastle,  printed  and 
sold  by  John  White,  in  Pilgrim  Street,  b.  Douce  Ballads, 
IV,  fo'l.  10. 

1  A  NOBLE  young  squire  that  livd  in  the  west, 

He  courted  a  young  lady  gay, 
And  as  he  was  merry,  he  put  forth  a  jest, 
A  wager  with  her  he  would  lay. 

2  '  A  wager  with  me  ?  '  the  young  lady  reply 'd, 

'  I  pray,  about  what  must  it  be  ? 
If  I  like  the  humour  you  shan't  be  deny'd ; 
I  love  to  be  merry  and  free.' 

3  Quoth  he,  '  I  wiU  lay  you  an  hundred  pounds, 

A  hundred  pounds,  aye,  and  ten. 
That  a  maid  if  you  go  to  the  merry  broom- 
field. 
That  a  maid  you  return  not  again.' 

4  '  I  'U  lay  you  that  wager,'  the  lady  she  said. 

Then  the  money  she  flung  down  amain  ; 
'  To  the  merry  broomfield  I  '11  go  a  pure  maid, 
The  same  I  'U  return  home  again.' 

5  He  coverd  her  bett  in  the  midst  of  the  hall 

With  an  hundred  and  ten  jolly  pounds. 
And  then  to  his  servant  straightway  he  did 
call, 
For  to  bring  forth  his  hawk  and  his  hoimds. 

6  A  ready  obedience  the  servant  did  yield, 

And  all  was  made  ready  oer  night ; 
Next  morning  he  went  to  the  merry  broom- 
field, 
To  meet  with  his  love  and  delight. 

7  Now  when  he  came  there,  having  waited  a 

whUe, 
Among  the  gi'een  broom  down  he  lies  ; 
The   lady   came  to  him,  and   coud   not    but 

smile, 
For  sleep  then  had  closed  his  eyes. 

8  Upon  his  right  hand  a  gold  ring  she  secur'd, 

Down  from  her  own  finger  so  fair. 
That  when  he  awaked  he  might  be  assur'd 
His  lady  and  love  had  been  there. 

9  She  left  him  a  posie  of  pleasant  perfume. 

Then  stept  from  the  place  where  he  lay  ; 


Then   hid  herself  close  in  the  besom   of  the 
broom, 
To  hear  what  her  true-love  would  say. 

10  He  wakend  and  found  the  gold  ring  on  his 

hand, 
Then  sorrow  of  heart  he  was  in  : 
'  My  love  has  been  here,  I  do  well  understand, 
And  this  wager  I  now  shall  not  win. 

11  '  0  where  was  you,  my  goodly  gawshawk. 

The  which  I  have  purchasd  so  dear  ? 
Why  did  you  not  waken  me  out  of  my  sleep 
When  the  lady,  my  lover,  was  here  ?  ' 

12  '  O  with  my  bells  did  I  ring,  master, 

And  eke  with  my  feet  did  I  run  ; 
And  stiU  did  I  cry.  Pray  awake,  master. 
She 's  here  now,  and  soon  will  be  gone.' 

13  '  0  where  was  you,  my  gallant  greyhound, 

Whose  collar  is  flourishd  with  gold  ? 
Why  hadst  thou  not  wakend  me  out  of  my 
sleep 
When  thou  didst  my  lady  behold  ? ' 

14  '  Dear  master,  I  barkd  with  my  mouth  when 

she  came. 
And  likewise  my  coller  I  shook, 
And  told  you  that  here  was  the  beautiful  dame. 
But  no  notice  of  me  then  you  took.' 

15  '  0  where  was  thou,  my  serving-man. 

Whom  I  have  cloathed  so  fine  ? 
If  you  had  wak'd  me  when  she  was  here. 
The  wager  then  had  been  mine.' 

16  '  In  the  night  ye  should  have  slept,  master. 

And  kept  awake  in  the  day  ; 
Had  you  not  been  sleeping  when  hither  she 
came. 
Then  a  maid  she  had  not  gone  away.' 

17  Then  home  he  returnd,  when  the  wager  was 

lost. 
With  sorrow  of  heart,  I  may  say ; 
The  lady  she  laughd  to  find  her  love  crost,  — 
This  was  upon  midsummer-day. 

18  '0  squire,  I  laid  in  the  bushes  conceald. 

And  heard  you  when  you  did  complain ; 
And  thus  I  have  been  to  the  merry  broomfield, 
And  a  maid  returnd  back  again. 


44.    THE  TWA   MAGICIANS 


39  9 


19  '  Be  chearful,  be  chearful,  and  do  not  repine, 
For  now  't  is  as  clear  as  the  sun, 


The  money,  the  money,  the  money  is  mine. 
The  wager  I  fairly  have  won.' 


A.    b.     8*.  flower  frae  the  bush.    8'.  a  witter  true. 
9=.  I  did  love. 
11^.  gray  goshawk.     11".  sae  well. 
11*.  When  my  love  was  here  hersell. 
12*.  Afore  your  true  love  gang. 
13'.  in  good. 
14H       By  running  oer  the  howm  ; 

Nae  hare  runs  swifter  oer  the  lea 
Nor  your  love  ran  thro  the  broom. 

B  concludes  with  these  stanzas,  which  do  not  belong 
to  this  ballad  : 

11  '  Rise  up,  rise  up,  my  bonnie  grey  cock, 

And  craw  when  it  is  day, 
An  your  neck  sail  be  o  the  beaten  gowd, 
And  your  wings  o  the  silver  lay.' 

12  But  the  cock  provd  fauss,  and  untrue  he  was. 

And  he  crew  three  hour  ower  seen, 
The  lassie  thocht  it  day,  and  sent  her  love 
away, 
An  it  was  but  a  blink  o  the  meen. 

13  '  If  I  had  him  but  agen,'  she  says, 

'  O  if  I  but  had  him  agen, 


The  best  grey  cock  that  ever  crew  at  morn 
Should  never  bereave  me  o  's  charms.' 


P. 


a. 
b. 


8^ 
2\ 
3^ 
4«. 


fingers.     US  13^  Oh.     15^.  I  am. 

I  pray  you  now,  what. 

Said  he.     3*.  omiis  That. 

omits  pure.      4*.  And  the   .   .   .   back 

again, 
ten  good.    5'.  he  strait.    6*.  oviits  For. 
his  servants.     6^  omits  made, 
his  joy. 

sleep  had  fast.     8^.  finger, 
in  the  midst.     9*.  what  her  lover. 
Awaking  he  found.     10^.  of  bearst. 
omits  do.     11'.  wake.     ll*.  and  lover. 
I  did.    12'.  wake.    12*.  here  and  she. 


5^. 

6>. 

6* 

7*. 

9'. 
101. 
10'. 
12'-2. 

13'.  Why  did  you  not  wake. 
14*.  I  barked  aloud  when.     14'.  that  there 

was  my. 
IS''.  I  have.     15'.  when  she  had  been  here. 
15*.  had  been  surely  mine. 
16'.  omits  should.     17'.  to  see. 
18*.  lay.     18'.  so  I.     18*.  have  retumd. 
b  has  no  imprint. 


44 
THE   TWA   MAGICIANS 

Buchan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  I,  24 ;  Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  570. 


A  BASE-BORN  cousin  of  a  pretty  ballad 
known  over  all  Southern  Europe,  and  else- 
where, and  in  especially  graceful  forms  in 
France. 

The  French  ballad  generally  begins  with 
a  young  man's  announcing  that  he  has  won  a 
mistress,  and  intends  to    pay  her  a  visit  on 


Sunday,  or  to  give  her  an  aubade.  She  de- 
clines his  visit,  or  his  music.  To  avoid  him 
she  will  turn,  e.  g.,  into  a  rose  ;  then  he  will 
turn  bee,  and  kiss  her.  She  will  turn  quail ; 
he  sportsman,  and  bag  her.  She  will  turn 
carp;  he  angler,  and  catch  her.  She  will 
turn  hare  ;  and  he  hound.     She  will  turn  nun  ; 


400 


44.    THE  TWA  MAGICIANS 


he  priest,  and  confess  her  day  and  night.  She 
will  fall  sick ;  he  will  watch  with  her,  or  be 
her  doctor.  She  will  become  a  star ;  he  a 
cloud,  and  muffle  her.  She  will  die  ;  he  will 
turn  earth,  into  which  they  will  put  her,  or 
St  Peter,  and  receive  her  into  Paradise.  In 
the  end  she  says,  Since  you  are  inevitable,  you 
may  as  well  have  me  as  another ;  or  more 
complaisantly,  Je  me  donnerai  a  toi,  puisque 
tu  m'aimes  tant. 

This  ballad  might  probably  be  found  any- 
where in  France,  but  most  of  the  known  ver- 
sions are  from  south  of  the  Loire.  A.  Ro- 
mania, X,  390,  E.  Legrand,  from  Normandy ; 
also  known  in  Champagne.  B.  '  Les  Trans- 
formations,' V.  Smith,  Vielles  Chansons  du 
Velay  et  du  Forez,  Eomania,  VII,  61  if.  C. 
Poesies  populaires  de  la  France,  MS.,  Ill,  fol. 
233,  Vienne.  D.  The  same,  II,  fol.  39,  Gu^- 
ret,  Creuse.  E,  P.  The  same  volume,  fol.  41, 
fol.  42.  G.  '  La  maitresse  gagnde,'  the  same 
volume,  fol.  38:  "on  chante  cette  chanson  sur 
les  confines  du  ddpartement  de  I'Ain  qui  le 
sdparent  de  la  Savoie."  *  H.  '  J'ai  fait  une 
maitresse,'  Champfleury,  Chansons  populaires 
des  Provinces,  p.  90,  Bourbonnais.  I.  '  Adiu, 
Margaridoto,'  Blade,  Poesies  pop.  de  la  Gas- 
cogne,  II,  861.  J.  M(;iusine,  col.  338  f,  Car- 
casonne.  K.  Montel  et  Lambert,  Chansons 
pop.  du  Languedoc,  p.  544-51,  and  Revue  des 
Langues  romanes,  XII,  261-67,  four  copies. 
L.  '  Les  Transfourmatiens,'  Arbaud,  II,  128. 
The  Provencal  ballad  is  introduced  by  Mis- 
tral into  Mireio,  Chant  III,  as  the  song  of 
Magali.  M.  'La  Poursuite  d' Amour,'  Ma- 
relle,  in  Archiv  fiir  das  Studium  der  neueren 
Sprachen,  LVI,  191.  N.  '  J'ai  fait  une  mai- 
tresse,' Gagnon,  Chansons  populaires  du  Can- 
ada, p.  137,  and  Lovell,  Recueil  de  Chansons 
canadiennes,  '  Chanson  de  Voyageur,'  p.  68. 

0.  Gagnon,  p.  78. 

Catalan.  Closely  resembling  the  French  : 
A.  '  La  Esquerpa,'  Briz,  Cansons  de  la  Terra, 

1,  125.  B,  C,  D.  '  Las  Transformaciones,' 
Mild,  Romancerillo  Catalan,  p.  393,  No  513. 

Italian.  Reduced  to  a  rispetto,  Tigri,  Canti 
popolari  toscani,  ed.  1860,  p.  241,  No  861. 

*  There  are  two  other  versions  in  this  great  collection  be- 
sides the  five  cited,  but  either  I  have  overlooked  these,  or 
they  are  in  Volume  VI,  not  yet  received. 


Roumanian.  '  Cucul  si  Turturica,'  Alec- 
sandri,  PoesiS  populare  ale  Romanilor,  p.  7, 
No  3  ;  French  version,  by  the  same,  Ballades 
et  Chants  populaires,  p.  85,  No  7 ;  Schuller, 
Romiinische  Volkslieder,  p.  47.  The  cuckoo, 
or  the  lover  under  that  style,  asks  the  dove 
to  be  his  mistress  till  Sunday.  The  dove,  for 
his  sake,  would  not  say  No,  but  because  of 
his  mother,  who  is  a  witch,  if  not  let  alone 
will  change  into  a  roll,  and  hide  under  the 
ashes.  Then  he  will  turn  into  a  shovel,  and 
get  her  out.  She  will  turn  into  a  reed,  and 
hide  in  the  pond.  He  will  come  as  shepherd 
to  find  a  reed  for  a  flute,  put  her  to  his  lips, 
and  cover  her  with  kisses.  She  will  change  to 
an  image,  and  hide  in  the  depths  of  the  church. 
He  will  come  every  day  in  the  week,  as  deacon 
or  chorister,  to  kiss  the  images  (a  pious  usage 
in  those  parts),  and  she  will  not  thus  escape 
him.  Schuller  refers  to  another  version,  in 
Schuster's  unprinted  collection,  in  which  youth 
and  maid  carry  on  this  contest  in  their  proper 
persons,  and  not  under  figure. 

Ladin.  Flugi,  Die  Volkslieder  des  Engadin, 
p.  83,  No  12.  "  Who  is  the  younker  that  goes 
a-field  ere  dawn  ?  Who  is  his  love  ?  "  "A 
maid  all  too  fair,  with  dowry  small  enough." 
"  Maid,  wilt  give  me  a  rose  ?  "  "  No  ;  my 
father  has  forbidden."  "Wilt  be  my  love?" 
"  Rather  a  seed,  and  hide  in  the  earth." 
"  Then  I  will  be  a  bird,  and  pick  thee  out," 
etc. 

Greek.  Tommaseo,  III,  61,  Passow,  p.  431, 
No  574  a.  A  girl  tells  her  mother  she  will 
kill  herself  rather  than  accept  the  Turk :  she 
will  turn  swallow,  and  take  to  the  woods.  The 
mother  replies.  Turn  what  you  will,  he  will 
turn  hunter,  and  take  you  from  me.  The  same 
kernel  of  tliis  ballad  of  transformations  in 
Comparetti,  Saggi  dei  Dialetti  greci  dell'  Italia 
meridionale,  p.  88,  No  86,  as  M.  Paul  Meyer 
has  remarked,  Revue  Critique,  II,  302. 

The  ballad  is  well  known  to  the  Slavic  na- 
tions. 

Moravian.  Celakovsky,  p.  75,  No  6,  Wen- 
zig,  Slawische  Volkslieder,  p.  72,  Bibliothek 
slavischer  Poesien,  p.  92.  A  youth  threatens 
to  carry  off  a  maid  for  his  wife.  She  will  fly 
to  the  wood  as  a  dove.  He  has  a  rifle  that 
will  bring  her  down.     She  will  jump  into  the 


44.    THE  TWA  MAGICIANS 


401 


water  as  a  fish.  He  has  a  net  that  will  take 
the  fish.  She  will  turn  to  a  hare ;  he  to  a 
dog ;  she  cannot  escape  him. 

Polish.  Very  common.  A  a.  Waclaw  z 
Oleska,  p.  417,  No  287  ;  Konopka,  p.  124.  A 
young  man  says,  though  he  should  ride  night 
and  day  for  it,  ride  his  horse's  eyes  out,  the 
maid  must  be  his.  She  will  turn  to  a  bird, 
and  take  to  the  thicket.  But  carpenters  have 
axes  which  can  fell  a  wood.  Then  she  will  be 
a  fish,  and  take  to  the  water.  But  fishermen 
have  nets  which  will  find  her.  Then  she  will 
become  a  wild  duck,  and  swim  on  the  lake. 
Sportsmen  have  rifles  to  shoot  ducks.  Then 
she  will  be  a  star  in  the  sky,  and  give  light 
to  the  people.  He  has  a  feeling  for  the  poor, 
and  will  bring  the  star  down  to  the  earth  by 
his  prayers.  "I  see,"  she  says,  "it's  God's 
ordinance  ;  whithersoever  I  betake  myself,  you 
are  up  with  me ;  I  will  be  yours  after  all." 
Nearly  the  same  mutations  in  other  versions, 
with  some  variety  of  introduction  and  ar- 
rangement. A  b.  Kolberg,  Lud,  VI,  129,  No 
257.  A  o.  "  Przyjaciel  ludu,  1836,  rok  2, 
No  34  ; "  Lipidski,  p.  135  ;  Kolberg,  Lud  XII, 
98,  No  193.  B.  Pauli,  Piesni  ludu  polskiego, 
I,  135.  C.  The  same,  p.  133.  D.  Kolberg, 
Lud,  XII,  99,  No  194.  B.  Lud,  IV,  19,  No 
137.  P.  Lud,  XII,  97,  No  192.  G.  Lud,  II, 
134,  No  161.  H.  Lud,  VI,  130,  No  258. 
I.  Woicicki,  I,  141,  Waldbriihl,  Slawische 
Balalaika,  p.  433.  J.  a,  b.  Roger,  p.  147, 
No  285,  p.  148,  No  286. 

Servian.  Karadshitch,  I,  434,  No  602; 
Talvj,  II,  100 ;  Kapper,  II,  208  ;  Pellegrini, 
p.  37.  Rather  than  be  her  lover's,  the  maid 
will  turn  into  a  gold-jug  in  a  drinking-house  ; 
he  will  be  mine  host.  She  will  change  into 
a  cup  in  a  coffee-house ;  he  will  be  cafetier. 
She  will  become  a  quail,  he  a  sportsman ;  a 
fish,  he  a  net.  Pellegrini  has  still  another 
form,  '  La  fanciulla  assediata,'  p.  98.  An  old 
man  desires  a  maid.  She  will  rather  turn  into 
a  lamb  ;  he  will  turn  into  a  wolf.     She  will 


become  a  quail  ;  he  a  hawk.'  She  will  change 
into  a  rose ;  he  into  a  goat,  and  tear  off  the 
rose  from  the  tree. 

There  can  be  little  doubt  that  these  ballads 
are  derived,  or  take  their  hint,  from  popular 
tales,  in  which  (1)  a  youth  and  maid,  pursued 
by  a  sorcerer,  fiend,  giant,  ogre,  are  trans- 
formed by  the  magical  powers  of  one  or  the 
other  into  such  shapes  as  enable  them  to 
elude,  and  finally  to  escape,  apprehension ; 
or  (2)  a  young  fellow,  who  has  been  appren- 
ticed to  a  sorcerer,  fiend,  etc.,  and  has  acquired 
the  black  art  by  surreptitious  reading  in  his 
master's  books,  being  pursued,  as  before,  as- 
sumes a  variety  of  forms,  and  his  master 
others,  adapted  to  the  destruction  of  his  in- 
tended victim,  until  the  tables  are  turned  by 
the  fugitive's  taking  on  the  stronger  figure  and 
despatching  his  adversary. 

Specimens  of  the  first  kind  are  afforded  by 
Gonzenbach,  Sicilianische  Marchen,Nos  14, 
15,  54,  55 ;  Grimms,  Nos  51,  66,  113;  Schnel- 
ler.  No  27  ;  Pitre,  Fiabe,  Novelle  e  Racconti 
siciliani.  No  15 ;  Imbriani,  Novellaja  mila- 
nese,  No  27,  N.  fiorentana.  No  29  ;  Maspons  y 
Labr6s,  Rondallayre,  I,  85,  II,  80 ;  Cosquiu, 
Contes  lorrains,  in  Romania,  V,  354;  Ral- 
ston's  Russian  Folk-Tales,  p.  129  f,  from  Afa- 
nasief  V,  No  23 ;  Bechstein,  Marchenbuch,  p. 
75,  ed.  1879,  which  combines  both.  Others 
in  Kohler's  note  to  Gonzenbach,  No  14,  at  II, 
214. 

Of  the  second  kind,  among  very  many,  are 
Straparola,  viii,  5,  see  Grimms,  III,  288,  Lou- 
veau  et  Larivey,  II,  152  ;  Grimms,  Nos  68, 
117  ;  Miillenhoff,  No  27,  p.  466 ;  Prohle, 
Marchen  fiir  die  Jugend,  No  26  ;  AsbJ0msen 
og  Moe,  No  57 ;  Grundtvig,  Gamle  danske 
Minder,  1854,  Nos  255,  256;  Hahn,  Grie- 
chische  Marchen,  No  68;  the  Breton  tale 
Koadalan,  Luzel,  in  Revue  Celtique,  I,  |of ; 
the  Schotts,  Walachische  Maerchen,  No  18 ;  * 
Woicicki,  Klechdy,  II,  26,  No  4;  Karad- 
shitch, No  6 ;  Afanasief,  V,  95  f,  No  22,  VI, 


•  The  Schotts  are  reminded  by  their  story  that  Wade  puts 
his  son  Weland  in  apprenticeship  to  Mimir  Smith,  and  to 
the  dwarfs.  They  might  have  noted  that  the  devil,  in  the 
Wallachian  tale,  wishes  to  keep  his  prentice  a  second  year, 
as  the  dwarfs  wish  to  do  in  the  case  of  Weland.  That  little 
5l 


trait  comes,  no  doubt,  from  Weland's  story;  but  we  will  not, 
therefore,  conclude  that  our  smith  is  Weland  Smith,  and 
his  adventure  with  the  lady  founded  upon  that  of  Weland 
with  Nidung's  daughter. 


402 


44.    THE  TWA   MAGICIANS 


189  ff,  No  45  a,  b,  and  other  Russian  and 
Little  Russian  versions,  VIII,  340.  Koliler 
adds  several  examples  of  one  kind  or  the 
other  in  a  note  to  Koadalan,  Revue  Celtique, 
I,  132,  and  WoUner  Slavic  parallels  in  a  note 
to  Leskien  und  Brugman,  Litauische  Volks- 
lieder  und  Marchen,  p.  537  f. 

The  usual  course  of  events  in  these  last  is 
that  the  prentice  takes  refuge  in  one  of  many 
pomegranate  kernels,  barley-corns,  poppy- 
seeds,  millet-grains,  pearls ;  the  master  be- 
comes a  cock,  hen,  sparrow,  and  picks  up  all 
of  these  but  one,  which  turns  into  a  fox,  dog, 
weasel,  crow,  cat,  hawk,  vulture,  that  kills  the 
bird. 

The  same  story  occurs  in  the  Turkish  Forty 
Viziers,  Behmauer,  p.  195  ff,  the  last  trans- 
formations being  millet,  cock,  man,  who  teai's 
off  the  cock's  head.  Also  in  the  introduction 
to  Siddhi-Kiir,  Jiilg,  pp  1-3,  where  there  are 
seven  masters  instead  of  one,  and  the  final 
changes  are  worms,  instead  of  seeds,  seven 
hens,  a  man  with  a  cane  who  kills  the  hens.* 

The  pomegranate  and  cock  (found  in  Stra- 
parola)  are  among  the  metamorphoses  in  the 
contest  between  the  afrite  and  the  princess  in 
the  tale  of  the  Second  Calender  in  the  Arabian 
Nights. 

Entirely  similar  is  the  pursuit  of  Gwion 
the  pigmy  by  the  goddess  Koridgwen,  cited 
by  Villemarqu^,  Barzaz  Breiz,  p.  Ivi,  ed.  1867, 


from  the  Myvyrian  Archaiology  of  Wales, 
I,  17.  Gwion  having,  by  an  accident,  come 
to  the  knowledge  of  superhuman  mysteries, 
Koridgwen  wishes  to  take  his  life.  He  flees, 
and  turns  successively  into  a  hare,  fish,  bird  ; 
she  follows,  in  the  form  of  hound,  otter, 
hawk  ;  finally  he  becomes  a  wheaten  grain,  she 
a  hen,  and  swallows  the  grain. 

The  ordinary  tale  has  found  its  way  into 
rhyme  in  a  German  broadside  ballad,  Lon- 
gard,  Altrheinliindische  Miihrlein  und  Lied- 
lein,  p.  76,  No  40,  '  Von  einem  gottlosen  Zau- 
berer  und  seiner  unschuldigen  Kindlein  wun- 
derbarer  Erlosung.'  The  two  children  of  an 
ungodly  magician,  a  boy  and  a  girl,  are  devoted 
by  him  to  the  devil.  The  boy  had  read  in  his 
father's  books  while  his  father  was  away. 
They  fiee,  and  are  pursued  :  the  girl  becomes 
a  pond,  the  boy  a  fish.  The  wicked  wizard 
goes  for  a  net.  The  boy  pronounces  a  spell, 
by  which  the  girl  is  turned  into  a  chapel,  and 
he  into  an  image  on  the  altar.  The  wizard, 
unable  to  get  at  the  image,  goes  for  fire.  The 
boy  changes  the  girl  into  a  threshing-floor, 
himself  into  a  barley-corn.  The  wizard  be- 
comes a  hen,  and  is  about  to  swallow  the  grain 
of  barley.  By  another  spell  the  boy  changes 
himself  into  a  fox,  and  then  twists  the  hen's 
neck. 

Translated  by  Gerhard,  p.  18. 


1  The  lady  stands  in  her  bower  door, 
As  straight  as  willow  wand  ; 
The  blacksmith  stood  a  little  forebye, 
Wi  hammer  in  his  hand. 


4  Then  she  has  hadden  up  her  hand, 

And  she  sware  by  the  mold, 

'  I  wudna  be  a  blacksmith's  wife 

For  the  full  o  a  chest  o  gold. 


2  '  Weel  may  ye  dress  ye,  lady  fair, 

Into  your  robes  o  red  ; 
Before  the  morn  at  this  same  time, 
I  '11  gain  your  maidenhead.' 

3  '  Awa,  awa,  ye  coal-black  smith, 

Woud  ye  do  me  the  wrang 
To  think  to  gain  my  maidenhead, 
That  I  hae  kept  sae  lang ! ' 

*  See  Benfey,  Pantschatantra,  I,  410  f,  who  maintains  the 
Mongol  tale  to  be  of  Indian  origin,  and  thinks  the  story  to 
have    been    derived  from  the  contests  in  magic  between 


5  '  I  'd  rather  I  were  dead  and  gone, 

And  my  body  laid  in  grave, 
Ere  a  rusty  stock  o  coal-black  smith 
My  maidenhead  shoud  have.' 

6  But  he  has  hadden  up  his  hand, 

And  he  sware  by  the  mass, 
'  I  'U  cause  ye  be  my  light  leman 
For  the  hauf  o  that  and  less.' 

Buddhist  and  Brahman  saints,  of  which  many  are  related  in 
Buddhist  legends. 


45.    KING  JOHN  AND  THE  BISHOP 


403 


O  bide,  lady,  bide. 

And  aye  he  bade  her  bide ; 

The  rusty  smith  your  leman  shall  be, 
For  a'  your  muckle  pride. 

7  Then  she  became  a  turtle  dow, 

To  flj'  up  in  the  air, 
And  he  became  another  dow. 
And  they  flew  pair  and  pair. 
O  bide,  lady,  bide,  &c. 

8  She  turnd  hersell  into  an  eel, 

To  swim  into  yon  bum, 
And  he  became  a  speckled  trout, 
To  gie  the  eel  a  turn. 

O  bide,  lady,  bide,  &c. 

9  Then  she  became  a  duck,  a  duck. 

To  puddle  in  a  peel. 
And  he  became  a  rose-kaimd  drake, 
To  gie  the  duck  a  dreel. 
O  bide,  lady,  bide,  &c. 

10  She  turnd  hersell  into  a  hare. 
To  rin  upon  yon  hill, 
And  he  became  a  gude  grey-hound. 
And  boldly  he  did  fill. 

O  bide,  lady,  bide,  &c. 


11  Then  she  became  a  gay  grey  mare, 

And  stood  in  yonder  slack. 
And  he  became  a  gilt  saddle. 
And  sat  upon  her  back. 

Was  she  wae,  he  held  her  sae. 
And  still  he  bade  her  bide  ; 
The  rusty  smith  her  leman  was. 
For  a'  her  muckle  pride. 

12  Then  she  became  a  het  girdle, 

And  he  became  a  cake. 
And  a'  the  ways  she  turnd  hersell, 
The  blacksmith  was  her  make. 
Was  she  wae,  &c. 

13  She  turnd  hersell  into  a  ship. 

To  sail  out  ower  the  flood ; 
He  ca'ed  a  nail  intill  her  tail. 
And  syne  the  ship  she  stood. 
Was  she  wae,  &c. 

14  Then  she  became  a  silken  plaid, 

And  stretchd  upon  a  bed. 
And  he  became  a  gi-een  covering. 
And  gaind  her  maidenhead. 
Was  she  wae,  &c. 


45 
KING   JOHN   AND   THE   BISHOP 


A.  '  Kinge  John  and  Bishoppe,'  Percy  MS.,  p. 
Hales  and  Furnivall,  I,  508. 


184;      B.   '  King  John  and  the  Abbot  of  Canterbury,' broad- 
side printed  for  P.  Brooksby. 


The  broadside  B  was  printed,  with  trifling 
variations,  or  corrections,  in  Pills  to  purge 
Melancholy,  IV,  29  (1719),  and  in  Old  Bal- 
lads, II,  49  (1723).  It  is  found  in  several  of 
the  collections :  Pepys,  II,  128,  No  112 ;  Rox- 
burghe,  III,  883  ;  Ouvry,  No  47  ;  the  Bag- 
ford  ;  and  it  was  among  Heber's  ballads. 
Brooksby  published  from  1672  to  1695,  and 

*  A  New  Ballad  of  King  John  and  the  Abbot  of  Canter- 
bury.  To  the  Tune  of  The  King  and  the  Lord  Abbot.   With 


B  was  "  allowed  "  by  Roger  I'Estrange,  who 
was  licenser  from  1663  to  1685:  Chappell, 
The  Roxburghe  Ballads,  I,  xviii,  xxiii.  The 
title  of  B  is  A  neto  ballad  of  King  John  and 
the  Abbot  of  Canterbury,  to  the  tune  of  '  The 
King  and  the  Lord  Abbot.'  *  This  older  bal- 
lad  seems  not  to  have  come  down. 

There  are  at  least  two  other  broadsides  ex- 
allowance.  Ro.  L'Estrange.  Printed  for  P.  Brooksby  at  the 
Golden  Ball  in  Pye^omer. 


404 


45.    KING  JOHN  AND  THE  BISHOP 


tant  upon  the  same  subject,  both  mentioned 
by  Percy,  and  both  inferior  even  to  B,  and  in 
a  far  less  popular  style :  '  The  King  and  the 
Bishop,'  Pepys,  I,  472,  No  243,  Roxburghe, 
III,  170,  Douce,  fol.  110  ;  and  '  The  Old  Ab- 
bot and  King  Olfrey,'  Douce,  II,  fol.  169, 
Pepys,  II,  127,  No  111,  printed  in  Old  Bal- 
lads, II,  55.*  In  both  of  these  the  Shepherd 
is  the  Bishop's  brother,  which  he  is  not  in  B  ; 
in  A  he  is  half-brother.  Pepys's  Penny  Mer- 
riments contain,  I,  14,  '  The  pleasant  History 
of  King  Henry  the  Eighth  and  the  Abbot  of 
Reading.'  f  This  last  may,  without  rashness, 
be  assumed  to  be  a  variation  of  '  King  John 
and  the  Abbot.' 

Percy  admitted  '  King  John  and  the  Ab- 
bot '  to  his  Reliques,  II,  302,  introducing  many 
lines  from  A  "  worth  reviving,"  and  many 
improvements  of  his  own, J  and  thus  making 
undeniably  a  very  good  ballad  out  of  a  very 
poor  one. 

The  story  of  this  ballad  was  told  in  Scot- 
land, some  fifty  years  ago,  of  the  Gudeman  of 
Ballengeigh,  James  the  V,  the  hero  of  not  a 
few  other  tales.  Once  on  a  time,  falling  in 
with  the  priest  of  Markinch  (near  Falkland), 
and  finding  him  a  dullard,  he  gave  the  poor 
man  four  questions  to  think  of  till  they  next 
met,  with  an  intimation  that  his  benefice  would 
be  lost  were  they  not  rightly  answered.  The 
questions  were  those  of  our  ballad,  preceded 
by  Where  is  the  middle  of  the  earth  ?  The 
pai'son  could  make  nothing  of  them,  and  was 
forced  to  resort  to  a  miller  of  the  neighbor- 
hood, who  was  reputed  a  clever  fellow.  When 
•  called  to  answer  the  first  question,  the  miller 
put  out  his   staff,  and  said.   There,  as  your 


majesty  will  find  by  measuring.  The  others 
were  dealt  with  as  in  the  ballad.  The  king 
said  that  the  miller  should  have  the  parson's 
place,  but  the  miller  begged  off  from  this  in 
favor  of  the  incumbent.  Small,  Interesting 
Roman  Antiquities  recently  discovered  in 
Fife,  p.  289  ff. 

Riddle  stories  in  which  a  forfeit  is  to  be 
paid  by  a  vanquished  party  have  incidentally 
been  referred  to  under  No  1  and  No  2.  They 
are  a  very  extensive  class.  The  oldest  exam- 
ple is  that  of  Samson's  riddle,  with  a  stake  of 
thirty  sheets  (or  shirts)  and  thirty  change  of 
garments:  Judges,  xiv,  12ff.  Another  from 
Semitic  tradition  is  what  is  related  of  Solomon 
and  Hiram  of  Tyre,  in  Josephus  against 
Apion,  i,  17,  18,  and  Antiquities,  viii,  5.  Af- 
ter the  manner  of  Amasis  and  the  Ethio- 
pian king  in  Plutarcli  (see  p.  13),  they  send 
one  another  riddles,  with  a  heavy  fine  for  fail- 
ure, —  in  this  case  a  pecuniary  one.  Solomon 
at  first  poses  Hiram  ;  then  Hiram  guesses 
Solomon's  riddles,  by  the  aid  of  Abdemon  (or 
the  son  of  Abdemon),  and  in  turn  poses  Solo- 
mon with  riddles  devised  by  Abdemon. § 

'  P4  gronaliSheiSi,'  Landstad,  p.  3G9,  is  a 
contest  in  riddles  between  two  brothers  (re- 
fresliingly  original  in  some  parts),  introduced 
by  three  stanzas,  in  which  it  is  agi'eed  that 
the  defeated  party  shall  forfeit  his  share  of 
their  iniieritance :  and  this  the  editor  seems 
to  take  quite  seriously. 

Death  is  the  penalty  attending  defeat  in 
many  of  these  wit-contests.  Odin  (VafpruS- 
nismdl),  jealous  of  the  giant  VafpruSnir's 
wisdom,  wishes  to  put  it  to  test.  He  enters 
the  giant's  hall,  assuming  the  name  of  Gagn- 


*  The  King  and  the  Bishop,  or, 

Unlearned  Men  bard  matters  out  can  find 
When  Learned  Bishops  Princes  eyes  do  blind. 

To  tlie  Tune  of  Chievy  Chase.  Printed  for  F.  Coles,  T. 
Vere,  and" J.  Wright  (1655-80).  Printed  for  J.  Wright, 
Clarke,  W.  Thackeraj',  and  T.  Passenver. 

The  Old  Abbot  and  King  Olfrey.  To  the  tmie_of_the 
Shaking  of  the  Sheets.  Printed  by  and  for  A.  M.,  and  sold 
by  the  booksellers  of  London. 

J.  Wright's  date  is  1650-82,  T.  Passinger's,  1670-82. 
ChapptU. 

t  Printed  by  J.  M.  for  C.  D.,  at  the  Stationers  Annes 
within  Aldgate.     C.  D.is,  no  doubt,  C.  Dennison,  who  pub- 


lished 1685-89.  See  Chappell,  The  Roxburghe  Ballads,  I, 
xix. 

t  Among  these,  St  Bittel  for  St  Andrew  of  A  26,  with 
the  note,  "  meaning  probably  St  Botolph  :  "  why  "  proba- 
bly "  1 

§  This  story  serves  as  a  gloss  on  2  Chronicles,  ii,  1.3,  14, 
where  Hiram  sends  Solomon  a  cunning  Tyrian,  skilful  to 
find  out  every  device  which  shall  be  put  to  him  by  the  cun- 
ning men  of  Jerusalem.  The  Queen  of  Sheba's  hard  ques- 
tions to  Solomon,  not  specified  in  1  Kings,  x,  1-13,  were, 
according  to  tradition,  of  the  same  general  character  as  the 
Indian  ones  sjioken  of  at  p.  12.  See  Hertz,  Die  Hiit.sel  der 
Konigin  von  Saba,  Zeitschrift  fiir  deutschos  Altertum, 
XXVII,  1  ff. 


45.    KING  JOHN  AND  THE  BISHOP 


405 


r5,Sr,  and  announces  the  object  of  his  visit. 
The  giant  tells  him  he  shall  never  go  out 
again  unless  he  prove  the  wiser,  asks  a  few 
questions  to  see  whether  he  be  worth  contend- 
ing with,  and,  finding  him  so,  proposes  a  de- 
cisive trial,  with  their  heads  for  the  stake. 
Odin  now  propounds,  first,  twelve  questions, 
mostly  in  cosmogony,  and  then  five  I'elating 
to  the  future  of  the  universe  ;  and  all  these 
the  giant  is  perfectly  competent  to  answer. 
The  very  unfair  question  is  then  put,  What 
did  Odin  say  in  his  son's  ear  ere  Balder 
mounted  the  funeral  pile?  Upon  this  Vaf- 
pruSnir  owns  himself  vanquished,  and  we  may 
be  sure  he  was  not  spared  by  his  antagonist. 

The  Hervarar  saga  contains  a  story  which, 
in  its  outlines,  approximates  to  that  of  our 
ballad  until  we  come  to  the  conclusion,  where 
there  is  no  likeness.  King  HeiSrekr,  after  a 
long  career  of  blood,  gave  up  war  and  took  to 
law-making.  He  chose  his  twelve  wisest  men 
for  judges,  and  swore,  with  one  hand  on  the 
head  and  the  other  on  the  bristles  of  a  huge 
hog  which  he  had  reared,  that  no  man  should 
do  such  things  that  he  should  not  get  justice 
from  these  twelve,  while  any  one  who  pre- 
ferred might  clear  himself  by  giving  the  king 
riddles  which  he  could  not  guess.  There  was 
a  man  named  Gestr,  and  surnamed  the  Blind, 
a  very  bad  and  troublesome  fellow,  who  had 
withheld  from  HeiSrekr  tribute  that  was  due. 
The  king  sent  him  word  to  come  to  him  and 
submit  to  the  judgment  of  the  twelve :  if  he 
did  not,  the  case  would  be  tried  with  arms. 
Neither  of  these  courses  pleased  Gestr,  who 
was  conscious  of  being  very  guilty  :  he  took 
the  resolution  of  making  offerings  to  Odin  for 
help.  One  night  there  was  a  knock.  Gestr 
went  to  the  door,  and  saw  a  man,  who  an- 
nounced his  name  as  Gestr.  After  mutual 
inquiries  about  the  news,  the  stranger  asked 
whether  Gestr  the  Blind  was  not  in  trouble 
about  something.  Gestr  the  Blind  explained 
his  plight  fully,  and  the  stranger  said,  "  I 
will  go  to  the  king  and  try  what  I  can  effect : 
we  will  exchange  looks  and  clothes."     The 

•  These  are  proper  riddles,  and  of  a  kind  still  current  in 
popular  tradition.  See,  e.  g.,  Svend  Vonved,  Grundtvig,  I, 
237  f.    There  are  thirty-five,  before  the  last,  in  the  oldest 


stranger,  in  the  guise  of  Gestr,  entered  the 
king's  hall,  and  said.  Sire,  I  am  come  to  make 
my  peace.  "  Will  you  abide  by  the  judgment 
of  my  men  of  law  ?  "  asked  the  king.  "  Are 
there  not  other  ways  ? "  inquired  Gestr. 
"  Yes  :  you  shall  give  me  riddles  which  I  can- 
not guess,  and  so  purchase  your  peace."  Gestr 
assented,  with  feigned  hesitation  ;  chairs  were 
brought,  and  everybody  looked  to  hear  some- 
thing fine.  Gestr  gave,  and  HeiSrekr  promptly 
answered,  some  thirty  riddles.*  Then  said 
Gestr :  Tell  thou  me  this  only,  since  thou 
thinkest  to  be  wiser  than  all  kings :  What 
said  Odin  in  Balder's  ear  before  he  was  borne 
to  the  pile  ?  "  Shame  and  cowardice,"  ex- 
claimed HeiSrekr,  "  and  all  manner  of  pol- 
troonery, jugglery,  goblinry  !  no  one  knows 
those  words  of  thine  save  thou  thyself,  evil 
and  wretched  wight !  "  So  saying,  HeiSrekr 
drew  Tyrfing,  that  never  was  bared  but  some- 
body must  fall,  to  cut  down  Gestr.  The  dis- 
guised Odin  changed  to  a  hawk,  and  made  for 
the  window,  but  did  not  escape  before  Hei- 
Srekr's  sword  had  docked  the  bird's  tail.  For 
breaking  his  own  truce  Odin  said  HeiSrekr 
should  die  by  the  hand  of  a  slave,  which  came 
to  pass.     Fornaldar  Sogur,  Rafn,  I,  462  ff. 

The  same  story  has  come  down  in  a  Faroe  "^ 
ballad,  '  G4tu  rfma,'  Hammershaimb,  Fasro- 
iske  Kvaeder,  No  4,  p.  26  (and  previously  pub- 
lished in  the  Antiquarisk  Tidsskrift,  1849- 
51,  pp  75-78),  translated  by  Dr  Prior,  I, 
336  ff.  Gest  promises  Odin  twelve  gold 
marks  to  take  his  place.  The  riddles  are  an- 
nounced as  thirteen  in  number,  but  the  ballad 
is  slightly  defective,  and  among  others  the 
last  question.  What  were  Odin's  words  to 
Balder  ?  is  lost.  Odin  flies  off  in  the  shape  of 
a  falcon ;  Hejdrek  and  all  his  men  are  burned 
up. 

A  tale  presenting  the  essential  traits  of  our 
ballad  is  cited  in  Vincent  of  Beauvais's  Spec- 
ulum Morale,  i,  4,  10,  at  the  end.  We  read, 
he  says,  of  a  king,  who,  seeking  a  handle 
for  wrenching  money  out  of  a  wealthy  and 
wise  man,  put  him  three  questions,  apparently 

text,  given,  with  a  translation,  by  Vigfusson  and  Powell, 
Corpus  Poeticum  Boreale,  '  King  Ueidruk's  Biddies '  I 
86  ff. 


406 


45.    KING  JOHK   AND   THE  BISHOP 


insoluble,  intending  to  make  him  pay  a  large 
sum  for  not  answering  them  :  1,  Where  is  the 
middle  point  of  the  earth  ?  2,  How  much 
water  is  there  in  the  sea  ?  3,  H  ow  great  is 
the  mercy  of  God  ?  On  the  appointed  day, 
having  been  brought  from  prison  into  the 
presence  to  ransom  himself  if  he  could,  the 
respondent,  bj'  the  advice  of  a  certain  philos- 
opher, proceeded  thus.  He  planted  his  staff 
where  he  stood,  and  said,  Here  is  the  centre ; 
disprove  it  if  you  can.  If  you  wish  me  to 
measure  the  sea,  stop  the  rivers,  so  that  noth- 
ing may  flow  in  till  I  have  done ;  then  I  will 
give  you  the  contents.  To  answer  your  third 
question,  I  must  borrow  your  robes  and  your 
throne.  Then  mounting  the  throne,  clothed 
■with  the  royal  insignia,  "  Behold,"  said  he, 
"  the  height  of  the  mercy  of  God  :  but  now  I 
was  a  slave,  now  I  am  a  king ;  but  now  poor, 
and  now  rich;  but  now  in  prison  and  in 
chains,  and  now  at  liberty,"  etc. 

Of  the  same  stamp  is  a  story  in  the  English 
Gesta  Romanorum,  Madden,  p.  55,  No  19. 
A  knight  was  accused  to  the  emperor  by  his 
enemies,  but  not  so  as  to  give  a  plausible 
ground  for  steps  against  him.  The  emperor 
could  hit  upon  no  way  but  to  put  him  ques- 
tions, on  pain  of  life  and  death.  The  ques- 
tions were  seven  ;  the  third  and  the  sixth  will 
suffice  :  How  many  gallons  of  salt  water  been 
in  the  sea  ?  Answer  :  Let  all  the  outpassings 
of  fresh  water  be  stopped,  and  I  shall  tell 
thee.  How  many  days'  journey  beth  in  the 
circle  of  the  world  ?  Answer :  Only  the  space 
of  one  day. 

Much  nearer  to  the  ballad,  and  earlier  than 
either  of  the  preceding,  is  the  Strieker's  tale 
of  Amis  and  the  Bishop,  in  the  Pfaffe  Amis, 
dated  at  about  1236.  Ami's,  a  learned  and 
bountiful  priest  in  England,  excited  the  envy 
of  his  bishop,  who  sent  for  him,  told  him  that 
he  lived  in  better  style  than  his  superior,  and 
demanded  a  subvention.  The  priest  flatly 
refused  to  give  the  bishop  anything  but  a 
good  dinner.  "  Then  you  shall  lose  your 
church,"  said  the  bishop  in  wrath.  But  the 
priest,  strong  in  a  good  conscience,  felt  small 
concern  about  that :  he  said  the  bishop  might 
test  his  fitness  with  any  examination  he  pleased. 


That  I  will  do,  said  the  bishop,  and  gave 
him  five  questions.  "  How  much  is  there  in 
the  sea  ?  "  "  One  tun,"  answered  Amis  ;  "  and 
if  you  think  I  am  not  right,  stop  all  the  rivers 
that  flow  in,  and  I  will  measure  it  and  con- 
vince you."  "  Let  the  rivers  run,"  said  the 
bishop.  "  How  many  days  from  Adam  to  our 
time?"  "Seven,"  said  the  parson;  "  for  as 
soon  as  seven  are  gone,  they  begin  again." 
The  bishop,  fast  losing  his  temper,  next 
demanded  "  What  is  the  exact  middle  of 
the  earth  ?  Tell  me,  or  lose  your  church." 
"  Why,  my  church  stands  on  it,"  replied 
Amis.  "  Let  your  men  measure,  and  take  the 
church  if  it  pi-ove  not  so."  The  bishop  de- 
clined the  task,  and  asked  once  more  :  How 
far  is  it  from  earth  to  sky  ?  and  then :  What 
is  the  width  of  the  sky  ?  to  which  Amis  re- 
plied after  the  same  fashion. 

In  this  tale  of  the  Strieker  the  parson  an- 
swers for  himself,  and  not  by  deputy,  and 
none  of  the  questions  are  those  of  our  ballad. 
But  in  a  tale  of  Franco  Sacchetti,*  given  in 
two  forms.  Novella  iv%  we  have  both  the  abbot 
and  his  humble  representative,  and  an  agree- 
ment as  to  one  of  the  questions.  Bernabo  Vis- 
conti  (t  1385)  was  offended  with  a  rich  abbot, 
who  had  neglected  some  dogs  that  had  been 
entrusted  to  his  care,  and  was  minded  to  make 
the  abbot  pay  him  a  fine ;  but  so  far  yielded 
to  the  abbot's  protest  as  to  promise  to  release 
him  from  all  penalties  if  he  could  answer  four 
questions  :  How  far  is  it  from  here  to  heaven  ? 
How  much  water  is  there  in  the  sea  ?  What 
is  going  on  in  hell  ?  What  is  the  value  of  my 
person  ?  A  day  was  given  to  get  up  the  an- 
swers. The  abbot  went  home,  in  the  depths 
of  melancholy,  and  met  on  the  way  one  of 
his  millers,  who  inquired  what  was  the  matter, 
and,  after  receiving  an  explanation,  offered  to 
take  the  abbot's  place,  disguising  himself  as 
well  as  he  could.  The  answers  to  the  two 
first  questions  are  not  the  usual  ones :  huge 
numbers  are  given,  and  the  seigneur  is  told  to 
measure  for  himself,  if  not  willing  to  accept 
them.  The  answer  to  the  fourth  is  twenty- 
nine  deniers ;  for  our  Lord  was  sold  for  thirty, 

*  Sacehetti's  life  extended  beyond  1400,  or  perhaps  be 
yond  1410. 


45.    KING  JOHN  AND  THE  BISHOP 


407 


and  you  must  be  worth  one  less  than  he.  Mes- 
ser  Bemabo  said  the  miller  should  be  abbot, 
and  the  abbot  miller,  from  that  time  forth. 
Sacchetti  says  that  others  tell  the  story  of  a 
pope  and  an  abbot,  adding  one  question.  The 
gardener  of  the  monastery  presents  the  abbot, 
makes  the  usual  answer  to  the  second  ques- 
tion as  to  the  water  in  the  sea,  and  prizes 
Christ's  vicar  at  twenty-eight  deniers. 

The  excellent  old  farce,  "  Ein  Spil  von 
einem  Kaiser  und  eim  Apt,"  Fastnachtspiele 
aus  dem  15°  Jalirhundert,  1, 199,  No  22,  obliges 
the  abbot  to  answer  three  questions,  or  pay  for 
all  the  damages  done  in  the  course  of  a  calam- 
itous invasion.  The  abbot  has  a  week's  grace 
allowed  him.  The  questions  are  three  :  How 
much  water  in  the  sea  ?  How  much  is  the 
emperor  worth  ?  Whose  luck  came  quickest  ? 
The  miller  answers  for  the  abbot :  Three  tubs, 
if  they  are  big  enough;  eight  and  twenty 
pence  ;  and  he  is  the  man  whose  luck  came 
quickest,  for  just  before  he  was  a  miller,  now 
he  is  an  abbot.  The  emperor  says  that,  since 
the  miller  has  acted  for  the  abbot,  abbot  he 
shall  be. 

Very  like  this,  as  to  the  form  of  the  story, 
is  the  anecdote  in  Pauli's  Schimpf  und  Ernst, 
LV,  p.  46,  ed.  Oesterley  (c.  1522).  A  noble- 
man, who  is  seeking  an  occasion  to  quarrel 
with  an  abbot,  tells  him  that  he  must  answer 
these  questions  in  three  days,  or  be  deposed : 
What  do  you  value  me  at  ?  Where  is  the 
middle  of  the  world?  How  far  apart  are 
good  and  bad  luck  ?  A  swineherd  answers  for 
him  :  Since  Christ  was  sold  for  thirty  pence, 
I  rate  the  emperor  at  twenty-nine  and  you  at 
twenty-eight;  my  church  is  the  mid-point  of 
the  world,  and,  if  you  will  not  believe  me, 
measure  for  yourself ;  good  and  bad  luck  are 
but  one  night  apart,  for  yesterday  I  was 
a  swineherd,  to-day  I  am  an  abbot.  Then, 
says  the  nobleman,  an  abbot  shall  you  stay. 
With  this  agrees,  say  the  Grimms,  the  tale 
in  Eyring's  Proverbiorum  Copia  (1601),  I, 
165-168,  in,  23-25. 


Waldis,  Esopus  (1548),  B.  3,  Fabel  92, 
Kurz,  I,  382,  agrees  in  general  with  Pauli : 
but  in  place  of  the  first  two  questions  has 
these  three :  How  far  is  to  heaven  ?  How 
deep  is  the  sea  ?  How  many  tubs  will  hold 
all  the  sea-water  ?  The  answers  are  :  A  short 
day's  journey,  for  Christ  ascended  in  the  morn- 
ing and  was  in  heaven  before  night ;  a  stone's 
cast ;  one  tub,  if  large  enough. 

Teofilo  Folengo  (1491-1544),  as  pointed 
out  by  Kohler,  has  the  story  in  the  8th  canto 
of  his  Orlandino  ;  and  here  we  find  the  third 
question  of  our  ballad.  There  are  three  be- 
sides :  How  far  from  earth  to  heaven  ?  From 
the  east  to  the  west  ?  —  a  modification  of  the 
second  question  in  the  ballad  ;  How  many 
drops  of  water  in  the  seas  about  Italy  ?  The 
abbot's  cook,  Marcolf,  answers  to  the  first,  One 
leap,  as  proved  by  Satan's  fall ;  to  the  second. 
One  day's  journey,  if  the  sun  is  to  be  trusted  ; 
and  insists  that,  for  a  correct  count  under  the 
third,  all  the  rivers  shall  first  be  stopped.  To 
the  fourth  he  makes  the  never-stale  reply. 
You  think  I  am  the  abbot,  but  I  am  the  cook. 
Rainero  says  he  shall  remain  abbot,  and  the 
abbot  the  cook.  (Stanzas  38,  39,  64-69,  pp 
186  f,  195  ff,  London  edition  of  1775.) 

A  capital  Spanish  story, '  Gramatica  Parda, 
Trueba,  Cuentos  Populares,  p.  287,  has  all 
three  of  the  questions  asked  and  answered  as 
in  our  ballad.  There  is  a  curate  who  sets  up 
to  know  everything,  and  the  king,  "  el  rey 
que  rabi6,"  has  found  him  out,  and  gives  him 
a  month  to  make  his  three  answers,  with  a 
premium  and  a  penalty.  The  curate  is  forced 
to  call  in  a  despised  goatherd,  who  also  had 
all  along  seen  through  the  shallowness  of  the 
priest.  The  king  makes  the  goatherd  "  archi- 
pdmpano "  of  Seville,  and  condemns  the  cu- 
rate to  wear  the  herdsman's  garb  and  tend  his 
goats  for  a  month.* 

The  first  and  third  questions  of  the  ballad 
are  found  in  the  thirty-eighth  tale  of  Le  Grand 
Parangon  des  Nouvelles  Nouvelles  of  Nicolas 
de  Troyes,  1536  (ed.  Mabille,  p.  155  ff)  ;  in 


*  The  form  of  the  third  qneation  ia  slightly  varied  at 
first  i,  Cual  es  el  error  en  que  yo  estoy  pensando  ?  But  when 
put  to  the  herdsman  the  question  is  simply  i  En  que  estoy 
yo  pensando  ?    I  was  pointed  to  this  story  by  Seidemann,  ia 


Archiv  fur  Litteratnrgeschichte,  IX,  423.  Trueba's  C.  P. 
forms  vol.  19  of  Brockhaus's  Coleccion  de  Autores  Espa- 
noles. 


408 


45.    KING  JOHN   AND   THE  BISHOP 


the  Patrafiuelo  of  Juan  de  Timoneda,  1576, 
Pat.  14,  Novelistas  anteriores  4  Cervantes,  in 
the  Rivadeneyra  Biblioteca,  p.  164  f ;  and  in  the 
Herzog  Heinrich  Julius  von  Braunschweig's 
comedy.  Von  einem  Edelman  welcher  einein 
Abt  drey  Fragen  auffgegeben,  1594,  ed.  Hol- 
land, p.  500  ff.  The  other  question  is  as  to 
the  centre  of  the  earth,  and  the  usual  answers 
are  given  by  the  abbot's  miller,  cook,  servant, 
except  that  in  Timoneda  the  cook  is  so  rational 
as  to  say  that  the  centre  must  be  under  the 
king's  feet,  seeing  that  the  world  is  as  round 
as  a  ball.*  The  question  Where  is  the  mid- 
dle of  the  earth  ?  is  replaced  by  How  many 
stars  are  there  in  the  sky  ?  the  other  two  re- 
maining, in  Balthasar  Schupp,  Schriften, 
Franckfurt,  1701,  I,  91  f  (Kohler),  and  in 
Gottlieb  Cober  (f  1717),  Cabinet-prediger,  2"^ 
Theil,  No  65,  p.  823  (GrHter,  Idunna  u.  Her- 
mode,  1814,  No  83,  p.  131,  and  p.  87).  The 
abbot's  miller  gives  a  nuge  number,'  and  bids 
the  king  (of  France)  verify  it,  if  he  wishes. 
This  last  is  no  doubt  the  version  of  the  story 
referred  to  by  the  Grimms  in  their  note  to 
K.  u.  H.  marchen.  No  152. 

We  encounter  a  slight  variation,  not  for 
the  better,  in  L'felite  des  Contes  du  Sieur 
d'Ouville  (t  1656  or  1657),  Rouen,  1699,  I, 
241 ;  h  la  Haye,  1703,  I,  296  ;  ed.  Ristelhuber, 
1876,  p.  46  (Kohler)  ;  Nouveaux  Contes  h, 
Rire,  Cologne,  1709,  p.  266  ;  Contes  a  Rire, 
Paris,  1781,  I,  184.  An  ignorant  and  violent 
nobleman  threatens  a  parson,  who  plumes  him- 
self on  a  little  astrology,  that  he  will  expose 
him  as  an  impostor  if  he  does  not  answer  four 
questions :  Whei-e  is  the  middle  of  the  world  ? 
What  am  I  worth  ?  What  am  I  thinking  ? 
What  do  I  believe  ?     The  village  miller  an- 

*  The  editor  of  the  Grand  Parangon,  at  p.  xiii,  cites  from 
an  older  source  an  anecdote  of  a  king  insisting  upon  being 
told  how  much  he  ought  to  bring  if  offered  for  sale.  While 
his  courtiers  are  giving  flattering  replies,  a  fool  leaps  forward 
and  says,  Twenty-nine  deniers,  and  no  more  ;  for  if  you  were 
worth  thirty,  that  would  be  autant  que  le  tout-puissant  Dieu 
valut,  quant  il  fut  vendu.  The  king  took  this  answer  to 
heart,  and  repented  of  his  vanities.  So  an  emperor  is  con- 
verted by  this  reply  from  a  man-at-arms.  Van  den  verwen- 
den  Keyser,  Jan  van  HoUant,  c.  1400,  Willeras,  Belgisch 
Museum,  X,  57  ;  Thijm,  p.  145.  The  like  question  and  an- 
swer, as  a  riddle,  in  a  German  MS.  of  the  fifteenth  century, 
and  in  Questions  ^nigmatiques,  Lyon,  1619;  Kohler,  in 
Weimarisches  Jahrbuch,  V,  354  fF. 


swers  for  the  curd.  The  reply  to  the  third 
question  is.  You  are  thinking  more  of  your 
own  interest  than  of  mine ;  the  others  as  be- 
fore. This  story  is  retold,  after  tradition,  by 
C6nac  Moncaut,  Contes  populaires  de  la  Gas- 
cogne,  p.  50,  of  a  marquis,  archipretre,  and 
miller.  The  query.  What  am  I  thinking  of  ? 
with  the  answer,  More  of  your  interest  than 
of  mine  (which  is  not  exactly  in  the  popular 
manner),  is  replaced  by  a  logical  puzzle,  not 
found  elsewhere :  Quel  est  le  nombre  qui  se 
trouve  renfermd  dans  deux  oeufs  ? 

The  King  and  the  Abbot  is  preserved,  in 
modern  German  tradition,  in  this  form.  An 
emperor,  riding  by  a  cloister,  reads  the  in- 
scription, We  are  two  farthings  poorer  than 
the  emperor,  and  live  free  of  cares.  Wait 
a  bit,  says  the  emperor,  and  I  will  give  you 
some  cares.  He  sends  for  the  abbot,  and 
says.  Answer  these  three  questions  in  three 
days,  or  I  will  depose  you.  The  questions  are. 
How  deep  is  the  sea  ?  How  many  stars  in  the 
sky  ?  How  far  from  good  luck  to  bad  ?  The 
shepherd  of  the  monastery  gives  the  answers, 
and  is  told,  as  in  several  cases  before.  If  you 
are  the  abbot,  abbot  you  shall  be.  J.  W. 
,  Wolf,  Hessische  Sagen,  p.  166,  No  262,  II. 
'Gustav  Adolf  und  der  Abt  von  Benedikt- 
beuern,'  in  Sepp's  Altbayerischer  Sagenschatz, 
p.  554,  No  153,  is  another  form  of  the  same 
story,  with  a  substitution  of  How  far  is  it  to 
heaven  ?  for  the  first  question,  and  the  an- 
swers are  given  by  a  kitchie-boy.f  In  '  Hans 
ohne  Sorgen,'  Meier,  Deutsche  Volksmarchen 
aus  Schwaben,  p.  805,  the  questions  are. 
How  far  is  it  to  heaven  ?  How  deep  is  the 
sea  ?  How  many  leaves  has  a  linden  ?  and 
the  shepherd  again  undertakes  the  answers.^ 

t  In  Prussia  Frederick  the  Great  plays  the  part  of  Gus- 
tavus.     Sepp,  p.  558. 

X  Another  Swabian  story,  in  Meier,  No  28,  p.  99,  is  a 
mixed  form.  The  Duke  of  Swabia  reads  "  Hans  sans  cares  " 
over  a  miller's  house-door,  and  says,  "  Bide  a  wee  :  if  you  have 
no  cares,  I  will  give  you  some."  The  duke,  to  give  the  miller 
a  taste  of  what  care  is,  says  he  must  solve  this  riddle  or  lose 
his  mill:  Come  to  me  neither  by  day  nor  by  night,  neither 
naked  nor  clothed,  neither  on  foot  nor  on  horseback.  The 
miller  promises  his  man  his  daughter  in  marriage  and  the 
mill  in  succession,  if  he  will  help  him  out  of  his  dilemma. 
The  man  at  once  says.  Go  on  Mid-week,  for  Mid-week 
is  no  day  (Mitt-woch  ist  ja  gar  kein  Tag,  wie  Sonn-tag, 
Mon-tag),  neither  is  it   night;  and  if  you  are  to  be  neither 


45.    KING  JOHN   AND  THE  BISHOP 


409 


'Der  Miiller  ohne  Sorgen,' Miillenhoff,  p.  153, 
208,  is  a  mutilated  variation  of  these.  Tlie 
abbot  disappears,  and  the  questions  are  put 
to  the  miller,  who  answers  for  himself.  The 
second  question  is  How  much  does  the  moon 
weigh  ?  and  the  answer,  Four  quarters ;  if  you 
don't  believe  it,  you  must  weigh  for  yourself. 

We  meet  the  miller  sans  souci  again  in  a 
Danish  tale,  which  otherwise  agrees  entirely 
with  our  ballad.  The  questions  are  answered 
by  the  rich  miller's  herdsman:  Grundtvig, 
Gamle  danske  Minder,  1854,  p.  112,  No  111. 

,A  Croatian  version  of  the  story  is  given  by 
Valyavets,  '  Frater  i  turski  car,'  p.  262.  The 
Turkish  tsar  is  disposed  to  expel  all  monks 
from  his  dominions,  but  determines  first  to 
send  for  an  abbot  to  try  his  calibre.  The 
abbot  is  too  much  friglitened  to  go,  and  his 
cook,  as  in  Foligno  and  Timoneda,  takes  his 
place.  The  questions  are.  Where  is  the  cen- 
tre of  the  world  ?  What  is  God  doing  now  ? 
What  am  I  thinking  ?  The  first  and  third 
are  disposed  of  in  the  usual  way.  When 
called  to  answer  the  second,  the  cook  said, 
You  can't  see  through  the  ceiling:  we  must 
go  out  into  the  field.  When  they  came  to 
the  field,  the  cook  said  again.  How  can  I  see 
when  I  am  on  such  a  small  ass  ?  Let  me  have 
your  horse.  The  sultan  consented  to  exchange 
beasts,  and  then  the  cook  said,  God  is  won- 
dering that  a  sultan  should  be  sitting  on  an 
ass  and  a  monk  on  a  horse.  The  sultan  was 
pleased  with  the  answers,  and  reasoning.  If 
the  cook  is  so  clever,  what  must  the  abbot  be, 
decided  to  let  the  monks  alone.  Afanasief, 
who  cites  this  story  from  Valyavets  (Narod- 
nuiya  russkiya  Skazki,  VIH,  460),  says  that 
he  heard  in  the  government  of  Voroneje  a 
story  of  a  soldier  who  dressed  himself  as  a 
monk  and  presented  himself  before  a  tsar  who 
was  in  the  habit  of  puzzling  people  with  rid- 
dles. The  questions  are,  How  many  drops 
in  the  sea?     How  many  stars  in   the   sky  ? 


What  do  I  think  ?  And  the  answer  to  the  last 
is,  Thou  thinkest,  gosudar,  that  I  am  a  monk, 
but  I  am  merely  a  soldier.* 

A  few  tales,  out  of  many  remaining,  may 
be  now  briefly  mentioned,  on  account  of  varia- 
tions in  the  setting. 

A  prisoner  is  to  be  released  if  he  can  tell  a 
queen  how  much  she  is  worth,  the  centre  of 
the  world,  and  what  she  thinks.  A  peasant 
changes  clothes  with  the  prisoner,  and  answers 
pro  more.  Kurtzweiliger  Zeitvertreiber  durch 
C.  A.  M.  von  W.,  1668,  p.  70  f,  in  Kohler, 
Orient  u.  Occident,  I,  43. 

A  scholar  has  done  learning.  His  master 
says  he  must  now  answer  three  questions,  or 
have  his  head  taken  off.  The  master's  broth- 
er, a  miller,  comes  to  his  aid.  The  questions 
are.  How  many  ladders  would  reach  to  the 
sky?  Where  is  the  middle  of  the  world? 
What  is  the  world  worth  ?  Or,  according  to 
another  tradition,  the  two  last  are.  How  long 
will  it  take  to  go  round  the  world  ?  What  is 
my  thought  ?  Campbell,  Popular  Tales  of  the 
West  Highlands,  II,  391  f. 

Eulenspiegel  went  to  Prague,  and  adver- 
tised himself  on  the  doors  of  the  churches  and 
lecture-rooms  as  a  great  master,  capable  of 
answering  questions  that  nobody  else  could 
solve.  To  put  him  down,  the  rector  and  his 
colleagues  summoned  Eulenspiegel  to  an  ex- 
amination before  the  university.  Five  ques- 
tions were  given  him :  How  much  water  is 
there  in  the  sea  ?  How  many  days  from  Adam 
to  now  ?  Where  is  the  middle  of  the  world  ? 
How  far  from  earth  to  heaven  ?  What  is  the 
breadth  of  the  sky  ?  Lappenberg,  Dr  Thomas 
Murners  Ulenspiegel,  p.  38,  No  28 ;  Howle- 
glas,  ed.  Ouvry,  p.  28. 

A  herdboy  had  a  great  fame  for  his  shrewd 
answers.  The  king  did  not  believe  in  him, 
but  sent  for  him,  and  said.  If  you  can  an- 
swer three  questions  that  I  shall  put,  I  will 
regard  you  as  my  own  child,  and  you  shall  live 


clothed  nor  bare,  pnt  on  a  fishing-net ;  and  if  you  are  to  go 
neither  on  foot  nor  on  horseback,  ride  to  him  on  an  ass.  All 
but  the  beginning  of  this  is  derived  from  the  cycle  of  '  The 
Clever  Wench  : '  see  No  2.  Haltrich,  Deutsche  Volksmarchen 
in  Siebenbiirgen,  No  45,  which  is  also  of  this  cycle,  has  taken 
up  a  little  of '  Hans  ohne  Sorgen.'  A  church  has  an  iuscrip- 
S2 


tion,  Wir  leben  ohne  Sorgen.  This  vexes  the  king,  who 
says  as  before,  Just  wait,  and  I  will  give  you  reason  for 
cares,  p.  244,  ed.  1856. 

*  These  two  stories  were  communicated  to  me  by  Mr 
Ralston. 


410 


45.    KING  JOHN   AND  THE   BISHOP 


in  my  palace.  The  questions  are,  How  many- 
drops  of  water  are  there  in  the  ocean?  How 
many  stars  in  the  sky  ?  How  many  seconds 
in  eternity  ?  The  Grimms,  K.  u.  H.  raiirchen, 
No  152,  '  Das  Hirtenbiiblein.' 

Three  questions  are  put  to  a  counsellor  of 
the  king's,  of  which  the  first  two  are.  Where 
does  the  sun  rise  ?  How  far  from  heaven  to 
earth  ?  The  answers,  by  a  shepherd,  are  ex- 
traordinarily feeble.  Jiidisches  Maasiibuch, 
cap.  126,  cited  from  Helwigs  Jiidische  His- 
torien,  No  39,  in  the  Gi-imms'  note  to  Das 
Hirtenbiiblein. 

Three  monks,  who  know  everything,  in  the 
course  of  their  travels  come  to  a  sultan's  do- 
minions, and  he  invites  them  to  turn  Mussul- 
mans. This  they  agree  to  do  if  he  will  an- 
swer their  questions.  All  the  sultan's  doctors 
are  convened,  but  can  do  nothing  with  the 
monks'  questions.  The  hodja  (the  court-fool) 
is  sent  for.  The  first  question,  Whei'e  is  the 
middle  of  the  earth  ?  is  answered  as  usual. 
The  second  monk  asks,  How  many  stars  are 
there  in  the  sky  ?  The  answer  is.  As  many  as 
there  are  hairs  on  my  ass.  Have  you  counted  ? 
ask  the  monks.  Have  you  counted  ?  rejoins 
the  fool.  Answer  me  this,  says  the  same 
monk,  and  we  shall  see  if  your  number  is 
right :  How  many  hairs  are  there  in  my 
beard  ?  "  As  many  as  in  my  ass's  tail." 
"  Prove  it."  "  My  dear  man,  if  you  don't  be- 
lieve me,  count  yourself ;  or  we  will  pull  all 
the  hairs  out  of  both,    count  them,  and  settle 


the  matter."  The  monks  submit,  and  become 
Mussulmans.  Les  plaisanteries  de  Nasr-eddin 
Hodja,  traduites  du  turc  par  J.  A.  Decourde- 
manche,  No  70,  p.  59  ff. 

The  Turkish  emperor  sends  word  to  Kaiser 
Leopold  that  unless  the  emperor  can  answer 
three  questions  he  shall  come  down  upon  him 
with  all  his  Turks.  The  counsellors  are  sum- 
moned, but  there  is  no  help  in  them.  The 
court-fool  offers  to  get  his  master  out  of  the 
difficulty,  if  he  may  have  the  loan  of  crown 
and  scepti'e.  When  the  fool  comes  to  Con- 
stantinople, there  lies  the  sultan  in  the  win- 
dow, and  calls  out.  Are  you  the  emperor,  and 
will  you  answer  my  questions  ?  Where  does 
the  world  end  ?  "  Here,  where  my  horse  is 
standing."  How  far  is  it  to  heaven  ?  "  One 
day's  journey,  and  no  inn  on  the  road."  What 
is  God  thinking  of  now  ?  "  He  is  thinking 
that  I  am  one  fool  and  you  another."  J.  W. 
Wolf,  Hessische  Sagen,  p.  165,  No  262 1.* 

For  the  literature,  see  especially  the  Grimms' 
Kinder  und  HausmJirchen,  notes  to  No  152  ; 
R.  Kohler  in  Orient  und  Occident,  I,  409-41 ; 
Oesterley's  note  to  Pauli's  Schimpf  und  Ernst, 
No  55,  p.  479. 

Translated,  after  Percy's  Reliques,  II,  302, 
1765,  by  Bodmer,  II,  111 ;  by  Doenniges, 
p.  152 ;  by  Ritter,  Archiv  fiir  das  Stadium 
der  neueren  Sprachen,  XXII,  222.  Retold 
by  Biirger,  'Der  Kaiser  und  der  Abt,'  G()t- 
tinger  Musenalmanach  fiir  1785,  p.  177. 


Percy  MS.,  p.  184.    Hales  and  Fumivall,  I,  508. 

1  Off  an  ancient  story  He  tell  you  anon, 

Of  a  notable  prince  thai  was  called  Ktwg  John, 
In  England  was  borne,  with  maine  and  with 

might ; 
Hee   did  much   wrong    and    mainteined    litle 

right. 

2  This  noble  prince  was  vexed  in  veretye, 

For  he  was  angry  with  the  Bishopp  of  Can- 
terbury ; 


Ffor  his  house-keeping  and  his  good  cheere, 
The  rode  post  for  him,  as  you  shall  heare. 

3  They  rode  post  for  him  verry  hastilye  ; 

The  Ving  sayd  the  bishopp  kept  a  better  house 

then  hee : 
A  hundred  men  euen,  as  I  [have  heard]  say, 
The  bishopp  kept  in  his  house  euerye  day, 
And  fifty  gold  chaines,  without  any  doubt, 
In  veluett  coates  waited  the  bishopp  about. 

*  In  the  beginning  there  is  a  clear  trace  of  the  Oriental 
tales  of  '  The  Clever  Lass '  cycle. 


45.    KING  JOHN   AND  THE  BISHOP 


411 


4  The  bishopp,  he  came  to  the  court  anon, 
Before  his  prince  tJiat  was  called  'King  lohn. 
As  soone  as  the  bishopp  the  \ing  did  see, 

*  O,'  q/foth  the  ktVtjr,  '  bishopp,  thow  art  wel- 
come to  mee. 
There  is  noe  man  soe  welcome  to  towne 
As   thou    that  workes    treason    against    my 
crowne.' 

5  '  My  leege,'  quoth  the  bishopp,  '  I  wold  it  were 

knowne 
I  spend,  yowr  grace,  nothing  but  that  that 's 

my  owne ; 
I  trust  yowr  grace  will  doe  me  noe  deare 
For  spending  my  owne  trew  gotten  geeve.' 

6  '  Yes,'    quoth  the  'king,  '  bishopp,  thou   must 

needs  dye, 
Eccept  thou  can  answere  mee  questions  three  ; 
Thy  head  shalbe  smitten  quite  from  thy  bodye, 
And  all  thy  lining  remayne  vnto  mee. 

7  '  First,'  qtwth  the  king,  '  tell  me  in  this  steade, 
With  this  crowne  of  gold  heere  vpon  my  head, 
Amongst   my   nobUitye,    with   ioy  and   much 

mirth, 
Lett  me  know  within  one  pennye  what  I  am 
worth. 

8  '  Secondlye,  tell  me  without  any  dowbt 

How  soone  I  may  goe  the  whole  world  about ; 
And  thirdly,  teU  mee  or  euer  I  stinte, 
What  is  the  thing,  bishopp,  tliat  I  doe  thinke. 
Twenty  dayes  pardon  thoust  haue  trulye, 
And  come  againe  and  answere  mee.' 

9  The  bishopp  bade  the  'king  god  night  att  a 

word  ; 
He  rode  betwixt  Cambridge  and  Oxenford, 
But  neuer  a  doctor  there  was  soe  wise 
Cold  shew  him  these  questions  or  enterprise. 

10  Wherewith  the  bishopp  was  nothing  gladd, 
But  in  his  hart  was  heauy  and  sadd. 

And  hyed  him  home  to  a  house  in  the  coun- 

trye. 
To  ease  some  part  of  his  melanchollye. 

11  His  halfe-brother  dwelt  there,  was  feirce  and 

fell, 
Noe  better  but  a  shepard  to  the  bishoppe  him- 
sell; 


The  shepard  came  to  the  bishopp  anon, 
Saying,  My  Lord,  you  are  welcome  home  ! 

12  '  What  ayles  you,'  qjtoth  the  shepard, '  that  you 

are  soe  sadd, 
And  had  wonte  to  haue  beene  soe  merry  and 

gladd?' 
'  Nothing,'  qztoth  the  bishopp,  '  I  ayle  att  tliis 

time  ; 
Will  not  thee  availe  to  know,  brother  mine.' 

13  'Brother,'    q?«oth  the   shepeard,    'you    haue 

heard  itt. 
That  a  ffoole  may  teach  a  wisemane  witt ; 
Say  me  therfore  whatsoeuer  you  will. 
And  if  I  doe  you  noe  good,  He  doe  you  noe  Ul.' 

14  Qtwth  the  bishop  :  I  haue  beene  att  the  court 

anon. 
Before  my  prince  is  called  'King  lohn, 
And  there  he  hath  charged  mee 
Against  his  crowne  with  traitorye. 

15  If  I  cannott  answer  his  misterye. 

Three  questions  hee  hath  propounded  to  mee, 
He  will  haue  my  land  soe  faire  and  free. 
And  alsoe  the  head  from  my  bodye. 

16  The  first  question  was,  to  tell  him  in  that  stead, 
With  the  crowne  of  gold  vpon  his  head. 
Amongst    his    nobilitye,  with  ioy  and  much 

mirth. 
To  lett  him  know  within  one  penye  what  hee 
is  worth. 

17  And  secondlye,  to  tell  him  with-out  any  doubt 
How  soone  he  may  goe  the  whole  world  about ; 
And  thirdlye,  to  tell  him,  or  ere  I  stint, 
What  is  the  thinge  that  he  does  thinke. 

18  '  Brother,'  quoth  the  shepard,  '  you  are  a  man 

of  learninge  ; 
What  neede  you  stand  in  doubt  of  soe  small  a 

thinge? 
Lend  me,'  qwoth  the  shepard,  '  yowr  ministers 

apparreU, 
He  ryde  to  the  court  and  answere  yowr  quar- 

reU. 

19  '  Lend  me  your  serving  men,  say  me  not  nay, 
With  all  yoMr  best  horsses  that  ryd  on  the 

way; 


412 


45.    KING  JOHN   AND   THE  BISHOP 


He  to  the  court,  this  matter  to  stay  ; 
He  speake  with  Kinff  lohn   and   heare  what 
heele  say.' 

20  The  hishopp  with  speed  prepared  then 

To   sett    forth   the    shepard  with  horsse  and 

man  ; 
The  shepard  was  liuely  without  any  doubt ; 
I  wott  a  royall  companye  came  to  the  court. 

21  The  shepard  hee  came  to  the  court  anon 
Before  [his]  prince  tliat  was  called  Kiwgr  lohn. 
As  soone  as  the  hint/  the  shepard  did  see, 

'  0,'  qwoth  the  king,  '  hishopp,  thou  art  wel- 
come to  me.' 

The  shepard  was  soe  like  the  hishopp  his 
brother, 

The  km;/  cold  not  know  the  one  from  the 
other. 

22  Qwoth  the  ^inff,  Bishopp,  thou  art  welcome  to 

me 
If  thou  can  answer  me  my  questions  three. 
Said  the  shepeard,  If  it  please  your  grace, 
Show  mee  what  the  first  quest[i]on  was. 

23  '  First,'  qwoth  the  king,  '  tell  mee  in  this  stead, 
With  the  crowne  of  gold  vpon  my  head. 
Amongst   my    nobilitye,  with   ioy   and   much 

mirth. 
Within  one  pennye  what  I  am  worth.'     5 

24  Qwoth  the  shepard,  To  make  your  grace  noe 

offence, 
I  thinke  you  are  worth  nine  and  twenty  pence ; 
For  our  ILord  lesus,  that  bought  vs  all, 
For  thirty  pence  was  sold  into  thrall 
Amongst  the   cursed  lewes,  as  I   to  you  doe 

showe  ; 
But  I  know  Christ  was  one  penye  better  then 

you. 

25  Then  the  king  laught,  and  swore  by  St  An- 

drew 
He  was  not  thought  to  bee  of  such  a  small 

value. 
'  Secondly  e,  tell  mee  with-out  any  doubt 
How  soone  I  may  goe  the  world  round  about.' 

26  Sales  the  shepard,  It  is  noe  time  with  yoMr 

grace  to  scorne, 
But  rise  betime  with  the  sun  in  the  morne. 
And  follow  his  course  till  his  vprising. 
And  then  you  may  know  without  any  leasing. 


27  And  this  [to]  jour  grace  shall  prone  the  same, 
You  are  come  to  the  same  jilace  from  whence 

you  came  ; 
[In]  twenty-four  houres,  with-out  any  doubt, 
Youv  grace  may  the  world  goe  round  about ; 
The  world  round  about,  euen  as  I  doe  say, 
If  with  the  sun  you  can  goe  the  next  way.     * 

28  '  And  thirdlye  tell  me  or  ener  I  stint, 

What    is    the    thing,   bishoppe,    that    I    doe 

thinke.' 
'  That  shall  I  doe,'  qwoth  the  shepeard  ;   '  for 

veretye. 
You  thinke  I  am  the  bishopp  of  Canterburye.' 

29  '  Why,  art  not  thou  ?  the  truth  tell  to  me  ; 
For  I  doe  thinke  see,'  quoth  the  king,  '  by  St 

Marye.' 
'  Not   soe,'    qwoth   the    shepeard ;    '  the   truth 

shalbe  knowne, 
I  am  his  poore  shepeard ;  my  brother  is  att 

home.' 

30  '  Why,'  qiwth  the  king,  '  if  itt  soe  bee, 
He  make  thee  bishopp  here  to  mee.' 

'  Noe,  Sir,'  qMoth  the  shepard,  '  I  pray  you  be 

still. 
For  He  not  bee  bishop  but  against  my  will ; 
For  I  am  not  fitt  for  any  such  deede, 
For  I  can  neither  write  nor  reede.' 

31  *  Why  then,'  qMoth  the  king,  '  He  giue  thee 

cleere 
A  pattent  of  three  hundred  pound  a  yeere  ; 
That  I  will  giue  thee  franke  and  free  ; 
Take  thee  that,  shepard,  for  coming  to  me. 

32  '  Free  pardon  He  giue,'  the  kings  grace  said, 
'  To  sane  the  bishopp,  his  land  and  his  head  ; 
With  him  nor  thee  He  be  nothing  wrath ; 
Here  is  the  jsardon  for  him  and  thee  both.' 

33  Then  the  shepard  he  had  noe  more  to  say. 
But  tooke  the  pardon  and  rode  his  way  : 
When  he  came  to  the  bishopps  place. 

The  bishopp  asket  anon  how  all  things  was. 

34  '  Brother,'   qitoth    the   shepard,    '  I  haue   well 

sped. 
For  I  haue  saued  both  yoMr  land  and  yowr 

head ; 
The  king  with  you  is  nothing  wrath. 
For  heere  is  the  pardon   for  you   and   mee 

both.' 


45.    KING  JOHN   AND  THE  BISHOP 


413 


35  Then    the    bishopes    hart   was    of    a    merry 

cheere  : 
'  Brother,  thy  paines  He  quitt  them  cleare  ; 
For  I  will  giue  thee  a  patent  to  thee  and  to 

thine 
Of  fifty  pound  a  yeere,  land  good  and  fine.' 


36 


'  I  will  to  thee  noe  longer  croche  nor  creepe, 
Nor   He   seme   thee   noe  more  to  keepe  thy 
sheepe.' 


37  "Whereeuer  wist  you  shepard  before, 
That  had  in  his  head  witt  such  store 

To  pleasure  a  bishopp  in  such  a  like  case, 
To  answer  three  questions  to  the  V.ings  grace  ? 
Whereeuer  wist  you  shepard  gett  cleare 
Three  hundred  and  fifty  pound  a  yeere  ? 

38  I  neuer  hard  of  his  fellow  before. 

Nor  I  neuer  shall:   now  I   need  to  say  noe 

more. 
I  neuer  knew  shepeard  thai  gott  such  a  liuinge 
But  David,  the  shepeard,  that  was  a  'king. 


B 


Broadside,  printed  for  F.  Brooksby,  at  the  Golden  Ball  in 
Pye-comer  (1672-95). 

1  I  'liL  tell  you  a  story,  a  story  anon. 

Of  a  noble  prince,  and  his  name  was   King 

John ; 
For  he  was  a  prince,  and  a  prince  of  great 

might, 
He  held  up  great  wrongs,  he  put  down  great 

right. 
Deny  down,  down  hey,  deny  down 

2  I  '11  tell  you  a  story,  a  story  so  merry. 
Concerning  the  Abbot  of  Canterbury, 
And  of  his  house-keeping  and  high  renown, 
Which  made  Bim  resort  to  fair  London  town. 


7  '  O  these  are  hard  questions  for  my  shallow  wit, 
For  I  cannot  answer  your  grace  as  yet ; 

But  if  you  will  give  me  but  three  days  space, 
I  '11  do  my  endeavor  to  answer  your  grace.' 

8  '  O  three  days  space  I  will  thee  give, 

For  that  is  the  longest  day  thou  hast  to  live. 
And  if  thou  dost  not  answer  these  questions 

right. 
Thy  head  shall  be  taken  from  thy  body  quite.' 

9  And  as  the  shepherd  was  going  to  his  fold. 
He  spy'd  the  old  abbot  come  riding  along : 

'  How  now,   master  abbot  ?    You  'r  welcome 

home  ; 
What  news  have  you  brought  from  good  King 

John?' 


3  '  How  now,  father  abbot  ?     'T  is  told  unto  me 
That  thou  keepest  a  far  better  house  than  I ; 
And  for  [thy]  house-keeping  and  high  renown, 
I  fear  thou  has  treason  against  my  crown.' 

4  '  I  hope,  my  liege,  that  you  owe  me  no  grudge 
For  spending  of  my  true-gotten  goods  : ' 

'  If  thou  dost  not  answer  me  questions  three. 
Thy  head  shall  be  taken  from  thy  body. 

6  '  When  I  am  set  so  high  on  my  steed. 
With  my  crown  of  gold  upon  my  head, 
Amongst  aU  my  nubility,  with  joy  and  much 

mirth. 
Thou  must  tell  me  to  one  penny  what  I  am 

worth. 

6  '  And  the  next  question  you  must  not  float, 
How  long  I  shall  be  riding  the  world  about ; 
And  the  third  question  thou  must  not  shrink, 
But  teU  to  me  truly  what  I  do  think.' 


10  '  Sad  news,  sad  news  I  have  thee  to  gfive. 
For  I  have  but  three  days  space  for  to  live  ; 
If  I  do  not  answer  him  questions  three, 
My  head  wiU  be  taken  from  my  body. 

11  '  When  he  is  set  so  high  on  his  steed, 
With  his  crown  of  gold  upon  his  head, 
Amongst  all  his  nobility,  with  joy  and  much 

mirth, 
I  must  tell  him  to  one  penny  what  he  is  worth. 

12  '  And  the  next  question  I  must  not  flout. 
How  long  he  shall  be  riding  the  world  about ; 
And  the  third  question  I  must  not  shrink, 
But  tell  him  truly  what  he  does  think.' 

13  '  0  master,  did  you  never  hear  it  yet. 
That  a  fool  may  learn  a  wiseman  wit  ? 
Lend  me  but  your  horse  and  your  apparel, 

I  '11  ride  to  fair  London  and  answer  the  quar- 
rel.' 


414 


46.    CAPTAIN  WEDDERBURN'S  COURTSHIP 


14  '  Now  I  am  set  so  high  on  my  steed, 
With  my  crown  of  gold  upon  my  head, 
Amongst  all  my  nobility,  with  joy  and  much 

mirth. 
Now  tell  me  to  one  penny  what  I  am  worth.' 

15  '  For  thirty  pence  our  Saviour  was  sold. 
Amongst  the  false   Jews,  as  you   have   been 

told. 
And  nine  and  twenty 's  the  worth  of  thee, 
For  I  think  thou  are  one  penny  worser  than 

he.' 

16  '  And  the  next  question  thou  mayst  not  flout ; 
How  long  1  shall  be  riding  the  world  about.' 

'  You  must  rise  with  the  sun,  and  ride  with  the 

same, 
Until  the  next  morning  he  rises  again. 
And  then  I  am  sure  you  will  make  no  doubt 
But  in  twenty-four  hours  you  '1  ride  it  about.' 


17  '  And  the  third  question  you  must  not  shrink. 
But  tell  me  truly  what  I  do  think.' 
'  All   that   I   can  do,   and   't  v.'ill  make   you 

merry ; 
For  you  think  I  'm  the  Abbot  of  Canterbury, 
But  I  'm  his  poor  shepherd,  as  you  may  see. 
And  am  come  to  beg  pardon  for  he  and  for 


18  The  king  he  turned  him  about  and  did  smile. 
Saying,  Thou  shalt   be  the   abbot   the   other 

wliile  : 
'  0  no,  my  grace,  there  is  no  such  need. 
For  I  can  neither  write  nor  read.' 

19  '  Then  four  pounds  a  week  will  I  give  unto  thee 
For  this  merry  jest  thou  hast  told  unto  me ; 
And  tell  the  old  abbot,  wlien  thou  comest  home. 
Thou  hast  brought  him  a  pardon  from  good 

King  John.' 


Not  divided  into  stanzas  in  the  MS. 
3',  3^  6^  8«,  15\  22^  24*,  27»,  31^  37*. 
hie  numerals  are  expressed  in  letters. 
14^  thy  court. 
24^^.  worth  29  pence. 


SI'',  patten.     31*.  earning. 
Ara-  35*.  50!'.    37«.  350'/. 

B.       5*,  11^,  14'.  on  my  [his]  steed  so  high. 
7^  my  sh         ow. 
111.  sat.     12».  thou  must.     19*.  K.  John. 


46 

CAPTAIN   WEDDERBURN'S   COURTSHIP 

A.  a.  'I'll  no  ly  neist  the  wa,'  Herd's  MS.,  I,  IGl.  burn's   Courtship,'  Jamieson's  Popular   Ballads,  II, 
b.  '  She  '11  no  ly  neist  [the]  wa,'  the  same,  II,  100.  159.     e.  Harris  MS.,  fol.  19  b,  No  14.     f.  Notes  and 

Queries,  2d  S.,  IV,  170. 

B.  a.  '  The  Earl  of  Kosslyn's  Daughter,'  Kinloch  MSS, 

I,  83.     b.  '  Lord  Roslin's  Daughter,'  Lord  Roslin's      C.   '  The  Laird  of  Roslin's  Daughter,'  Sheldon's  Min- 
Daughter's  Garland,  p.  4.    c.  '  Lord  Roslin's  Daugh-  strelsy  of  the  English  Border,  p.  232. 

ter,'  Buchan's  MSS,  II,  34.     d.  'Captain  Wedder- 


A  COPY  of  this  ballad  was  printed  in  The  Motherwell,  p.  Ixxiv.*     Few  were  more  pop- 
New  British  Songster,  a  Collection  of  Songs,  ular,  says  Motherwell,  and  Jamieson  remarks 

Scots  and   English,  with   Toasts   and   Senti-  »  ^his  book  has  been  pursued  by  me  for  years,  with  the 

ments     for    the     Bottle,    Falkirk,    1785  :     see  cooperation  of  many  friends  and  agents,  but  in  vain. 


46.     OAPTAIK   WEDDERBURN'S  COURTSHIP 


415 


that  'Captain  Wedderburn'  was  equally  in 
vogue  in  the  north  and  the  south  of  Scot- 
land. 

Jamieson  writes  to  the  Scots  Magazine, 
1803,  p.  701 :  "  Of  this  ballad  I  have  got  one 
whole  copy  and  part  of  another,  and  I  re- 
member a  good  deal  of  it  as  I  have  heard  it 
sung  in  Morayshire  when  I  was  a  child."  In 
his  Popular  Ballads,  II,  154,  1806,  he  says 
that  the  copy  wliicli  he  prints  was  furnished 
him  from  Mr  Herd's  MS.  by  the  editor  of  the 
Border  Minstrelsy,  and  that  he  had  himself 
supplied  a  few  readings  of  small  importance 
from  his  own  recollection.  There  is  some  in- 
accuracy here.  The  version  given  by  Jamie- 
son  is  rather  B,  with  readings  from  A. 

We  have  had  of  the  questions  six,  A  11, 12, 
What  is  greener  than  the  grass?  in  No  1,  A  15, 
C  13,  D  5  ;  What 's  higher  than  the  tree?  in 
C  9,  D  1 ;  What 's  war  than  a  woman's  wiss  ? 
("  than  a  woman  was ")  A  15,  C  13,  D  5 ; 
What 's  deeper  than  the  sea  ?  A  13,  B  8,  C  9, 
D  1.  Of  the  three  dishes,  A  8,  9,  we  have 
the  bird  without  a  gall  in  Ein  Spil  von  den 
Freiheit,  Fastnachtspiele  aus  dem  15°  Jhdt, 
II,  558,  v.  23,*  and  the  two  others  in  the  fol- 
lowing song,  from  a  manuscript  assigned  to 
^  the  fifteenth  century,  and  also  preserved  in 
several  forms  by  oral  tradition  :  f  Sloane  MS., 
No  2593,   British  Museum ;   Wright's  Songs 


and  Carols,  1836,  No   8 ;    as  printed  for  the 
Warton  Club,  No  xxix,  p.  33. 

I  have  a  ^ong  suster  fer  bejondyn  the  se, 
Many  be  the  drowryis  that  che  sente  me. 

Che  sente  me  the  cherye,  withoutyn  ony  ston, 
And  so  che  dede  [the]  dowe,  withoutyn  ony  hon. 

Sche  sente  me  the  brere,  withoutyn  ony  rynde, 
Sche  bad  me  love  my  lemman  withoute  longgyng. 

How  xuld  ony  cherye  be  withoute  ston  ? 
And  how  xuld  ony  dowe  ben  withoute  bon  ? 

How  xuld  any  brere  ben  withoute  rynde  ? 

How  xuld  y  love  myn  lenunan  without  longyng  ? 

Quan  the  cherye  was  a  flour,  than  hadde  it  non 

ston ; 
Quan  the  dowe  was  an  ey,  than  hadde  It  non  bon. 

Quan  the   brere  was   onbred,  than   hadde  it  non 

rynd  ; 
Quan  the  mayden  hajt  that  che  lovit,  che  is  without 

longyng. 

'  Captain  Wedderbum's  Courtship,'  or 
'  Lord  Roslin's  Daughter,'  J  is  a  counterpart 
of  the  ballad  in  which  a  maid  wins  a  husband 
by  guessing  riddles.  (See  Nos  1  and  2,  and 
also  the  following  ballad,  for  a  lady  who  gives 


»  Followed  by  Virgil's  riddle,  Eel.  iii,  104-5,  Where  is 
he  sky  but  three  spans  broad  ? 

t  Halliwell's  Popular  Rhymes  and  Nursery  Talcs,  p.  150 ; 
Halliwell's  Nursery  Rhymes,  No  375  ;  Notes  and  Queries,  3d 
Ser.,  IX,  401  ;  4th  Ser.,  Ill,  501,  604  ;  Macmillan's  Maga- 
zine, V,  248,  by  T.  Hughes.     The  first  of  these  mns  : 

I  have  four  sisters  beyond  the  sea, 

Para-mara,  dictum,  domine 
And  they  did  send  four  presents  to  me. 

Partum,  quartum,  paradise,  tempum, 

Para-mara,  dictum,  domine 

The  first  it  was  a  bird  without  eer  a  bone, 
The  second  was  a  cherry  without  eer  a  stone. 

The  third  it  was  a  blanket  without  eer  a  thread, 
The  fourth  it  was  a  book  which  no  man  could  read. 

How  can  there  be  a  bird  without  eer  a  bone  ? 
How  can  there  be  a  cherry  without  eer  a  stone  ? 

How  can  there  be  a  blanket  without  eer  a  thread  ? 
How  can  there  be  a  book  which  no  man  can  read? 


When  the  bird 's  in  the  shell,  there  is  no  bone ; 
When  the  cherry  's  in  the  bud,  there  is  no  stone. 

When  the  blanket 's  in  the  fleece,  there  is  no  thread ; 
When  the  book 's  in  the  press,  no  man  can  read. 

The  Minnesinger  dames  went  far  beyond  our  laird's 
daughter  in  the  way  of  requiring  "  ferlies  "  from  their  lov- 
ers. Der  Tanhuser  and  Boppe  represent  that  their  ladies 
would  be  satisfied  with  nothing  short  of  their  turning  the 
course  of  rivers  ;  bringing  them  the  salamander,  the  basilisk, 
the  graal,  Paris's  apple ;  giving  them  a  sight  of  Enoch  and 
Elijah  in  the  body,  a  hearing  of  the  sirens,  etc.  Von  der 
Hagen,  Minnesinger,  II,  91  f,  385  f. 

}  There  were,  no  doubt,  Gri.ssels  enough  in  the  very  dis- 
tinguished family  of  the  Sinclairs  of  Roslin  to  furnish  one 
for  this  ballad.  I  see  two  mentioned  among  the  Sinclairs 
of  Herdmanstonn.  Even  a  Wedderburn  connection,  as  I  am 
informed,  is  not  absolutely  lacking.  George  Home  of  Wed- 
derburn (t  1497),  married  the  eldest  daughter  of  John  Sin- 
clair of  Herdmanstonn :  Douglas's  Peerage  of  Scotland,  ed. 
Wood,  1813,  II,  174. 


416 


46.    CAPTAIN  WEDDEEBURN'S  COtTBTSHIP 


riddles.)  The  ingenious  suitor,  though  not  so 
favorite  a  subject  as  the  clever  maid,  may 
boast  that  he  is  of  an  old  and  celebrated  fam- 
ily. We  find  him  in  the  Gesta  Romanorum, 
No  70  ;  Oesterley,  p.  383,  Madden's  English 
Versions,  No  35,  p.  884.  A  king  had  a  beau- 
tiful daughter,  whom  he  wished  to  dispose  of 
in  marriage ;  but  she  had  made  a  vow  that 
she  would  accept  no  husband  who  had  not 
achieved  tliree  tasks :  to  tell  her  how  many 
feet  long,  broad,  and  deep  were  the  four  ele- 
ments ;  to  change  the  wind  from  the  north ; 
to  take  fire  into  his  bosom,  next  the  flesh, 
without  harm.  The  king  issued  a  proclama- 
tion in  accordance  with  these  terms.  Many 
tried  and  failed,  but  at  last  there  came  a  sol- 
dier who  succeeded.  To  answer  the  first  ques- 
tion he  made  his  servant  lie  down,  and  meas- 
ured him  from  head  to  foot.  Every  living 
being  is  composed  of  the  four  elements,  he 
said,  and  I  find  not  more  than  seven  feet  in 
them.  A  very  easy  way  was  hit  on  for  per- 
forming the  second  task :  the  soldier  simply 
turned  his  horse's  head  to  the  east,  and,  since 
wind  is  the  life  of  every  animal,  maintained 
that  he  had  changed  the  wind.  The  king 
was  evidently  not  inclined  to  be  strict,  and 
said.  Clear  enough.  Let  us  go  on  to  the  third. 
Then,  by  the  aid  of  a  stone  which  he  always 
carried  about  him,  the  soldier  put  handfuls  of 
burning  coals  into  his  bosom  without  injury. 
The  king  gave  his  daughter  to  the  soldier. 

An  extraordinary  ballad  in  Sakellarios's 
KvwpiaKd,  III,  15,  No  6,  '  The  Hundred  Say- 
ings,' subjects  a  lover  to  a  severe  probation  of 
riddles.  (Liebrecht  has  given  a  full  abstract 
of  the  story  in  Gosche's  Archiv,  II,  29.)  A 
youth  is  madly  enamored  of  a  king's  daughter, 
but,  though  his  devotion  knows  no  bound, 
cannot  for  a  long  time  get  a  word  from  her 
mouth,  and  then  only  disdain.     She  shuts  her- 


self up  in  a  tower.  He  prays  for  a  heat  that 
may  force  her  to  come  to  the  window,  and 
that  she  may  drop  her  spindle,  and  he  be  the 
only  one  to  bring  it  to  her.  The  heavens  are 
kind :  all  this  comes  to  pass,  and  she  is  fain 
to  beg  him  to  bring  her  the  spindle.  She 
asks,  Can  you  do  what  I  say?  Shoulder  a 
tower?  make  a  stack  of  eggs?  trim  a  date- 
tree,  standing  in  a  great  river  ?  *  All  this  he 
can  do.  She  sends  him  away  once  and  again 
to  learn  various  things  ;  last  of  all,  the  hundred 
sayings  that  lovers  use.  He  presents  himself 
for  examination.  "  One  ?  "  "  There  is  one 
only  God  :  may  he  help  me  !  "  "  Two  ?  " 
"  Two  doves  with  silver  wings  are  sporting 
together  :  I  saw  how  they  kissed,"  etc. 
"Three?"  " Holy  Trinity,  help  me  to  love 
the  maid  !  "  "  Four  ?  "  "  There  is  a  four- 
pointed  cross  on  thy  smock,  and  it  implores 
God  I  may  be  thy  mate : "  and  so  he  is  cate- 
chised through  all  the  units  and  tens.f  Then 
the  lady  suddenly  turns  about,  concedes  every- 
thing, and  proposes  that  they  shall  go  to 
church :  but  the  man  says.  If  I  am  to  marry 
all  my  loves,  I  have  one  in  every  town,  and 
wife  and  children  in  Constantinople.  They 
part  with  reciprocal  scurrilities. 

Usually  when  the  hand  of  a  princess  is  to 
be  won  by  the  performance  of  tasks,  whether 
requiring  wit,  courage,  the  overcoming  of 
magic  arts,  or  what  not,  the  loss  of  your  head 
is  the  penalty  of  failure.  (See  the  preface  to 
the  following  ballad.)  ApoUonius  of  Tyre, 
of  Greek  original,  but  first  found  in  a  Latin 
form,  is  perhaps  the  oldest  riddle-story  of  this 
description.  Though  its  age  has  not  been 
determined,  the  tale  has  been  carried  back 
even  to  the  end  of  the  third  or  the  beginning 
of  the  fourth  century,  was  a  great  favorite 
with  the  Middle  Ages,  and  is  kept  only  too 
familiar  by  the  play  of  Pericles. 


*  The  difficulty  here  is  the  want  oi  a  wov  arS>,  from  which 
to  climb  the  tree. 

t  These  number-riddles  or  songs  are  known  to  every  nation 
of  Europe.  E.  g.,  Chambers'  Popular  Rhymes  of  Scotland, 
p.  44,  ed.  1870,  from  Buchan's  MSS,  I,  280: 

O  what  will  be  our  ane,  boys? 
O  what  will  be  our  ane,  boys? 
My  only  ane,  she  walks  alane, 
And  evermair  has  dune,  boys,  etc. 


See  Kohler  in  Orient  n.  Occident,  II,  558-9.  A  dragon,  in 
Hahn's  Griechische  u.  Albanesische  Marchen,  II,  210,  gives 
Penteklimas  ten  of  these  number-riddles :  if  he  auswers 
them  he  is  to  have  a  fine  castle  ;  if  not,  he  is  to  be  eaten. 
An  old  woman  answers  for  him  :  "  One  is  God,  two  are  the 
righteous,  etc. ;  ten  is  your  own  word,  and  now  burst, 
dragon  !  "  The  dragon  bursts,  and  Penteklimas  inherits  his 
possessions. 


46.    CAPTAIN   WEDDEEBURN'S   COURTSHIP 


417 


More  deserving  of  perpetuation  is  the  charm- 
ing Persian  story  of  Prince  Calaf,  in  P^tis  de 
La  Croix's  1001  Days  (45*-82«  jour),  upon 
which  Carlo  Gozzi  founded  his  play  of  "  La 
Turandot,"  now  best  known  through  Schiller's 
translation.  Tourandocte's  riddles  are  such  as 
we  should  call  legitimate,  and  are  three  in 
number.  "  What  is  the  being  that  is  found 
in  every  land,  is  dear  to  all  the  world,  and 
cannot  endure  a  fellow?"  Calaf  answers. 
The  sun.  "  What  mother  swallows  the  chil- 
dren she  has  given  birth  to,  as  soon  as  they 
have  attained  their  growth  ?  "  The  sea,  says 
Calaf,  for  the  rivers  that  flow  into  it  all  came 
from  it.  "  What  is  the  tree  that  has  all  its 
leaves  white  on  one  side  and  black  on  the 
other  ?  "  This  tree,  Calaf  answers,  is  the  year, 
which  is  made  up  of  days  and  nights.* 

A  third  example  of  this  hazardous  wooing 
is  the  story  of  The  Fair  One  of  the  Castle, 
the  fourth  in  the  Persian  poem  of  The  Seven 
Figures  (or  Beauties),  by  Nisami  of  Gendsch 
(t  1180).  A  Russian  princess  is  shut  up  in 
a  castle  made  inaccessible  by  a  talisman,  and 
every  suitor  must  satisfy  four  conditions  :  he 
must  be  a  man  of  honor,  vanquish  the  en- 
chanted guards,  take  away  the  talisman,  and 
obtain  the  consent  of  her  father.  Many  had  es- 
sayed their  fortune,  and  their  heads  were  now 
arrayed  on  the  pinnacles  of  the  castle.f  A 
young  prince  had  fulfilled  the  first  three  con- 
ditions, but  the  father  would  not  approve  his 
suit  until  he  had  solved  the  princess's  riddles. 
These  are  expressed  symbolically,  and  an- 
swered in  the  same  way.  The  princess  sends 
the  prince  two  pearls  from  her  earring :  he 
at  once  takes  her  meaning,  —  life  is  like  two 
drops  of  water,  —  and  returns  the  pearls  with 
three  diamonds,  to  signify  that  joy  —  faith, 
hope,  and  love  —  can  prolong  life.  The  prin- 
cess now  sends  him  three  jewels  in  a  box, 
with  sugar.     The  prince  seizes  the  idea,  —  life 


is  blended  with  sensuous  desire,  —  and  pours 
milk  on  the  sugar,  to  intimate  that  as  milk 
dissolves  sugar,  so  sensuous  desire  is  quenched 
by  true  love.  After  four  such  interchanges, 
the  princess  seals  her  consent  with  a  device 
not  less  elegant  than  the  others.:}: 

A  popular  tale  of  this  class  is  current  in 
Russia,  with  this  variation :  that  the  hard- 
hearted princess  requites  her  lovers  to  give 
her  riddles,  and  those  who  cannot  pose  her 
lose  their  heads.  Foolish  Ivdn,  the  youngest 
of  three  brothers,  adventures  after  many  have 
failed.  On  his  way  to  the  trial  he  sees  a 
horse  in  a  cornfield  and  drives  it  out  with  a 
whip,  and  further  on  kills  a  snake  with  a 
lance,  saying  in  each  case.  Here 's  a  riddle ! 
Confronted  with  the  pi'incess,  he  says  to  her, 
As  I  came  to  you,  I  saw  by  the  roadside  what 
was  good  ;  and  in  the  good  was  good ;  so  I  set 
to  work,  and  with  what  was  good  I  drove  the 
good  from  the  good.  The  good  fled  from  the 
good  out  of  the  good.  The  princess  pleads  a 
headache,  and  puts  off  her  answer  till  the  next 
day,  when  Iv4n  gives  her  his  second  enigma : 
As  I  came  to  you,  I  saw  on  the  way  what 
was  bad,  and  I  struck  the  bad  with  a  bad 
thing,  and  of  what  was  bad  the  bad  died. 
The  princess,  unable  to  solve  these  puzzles,  is 
obliged  to  accept  foolish  Iv4n.  (Afanasief, 
Skazki,  II,  225  ff.  No  20,  in  Ralston's  Songs 
of  the  Russian  People,  p.  354  f.)  Closely 
related  to  this  tale,  and  still  nearer  to  one 
another,  are  the  Grimms'  No  22,  '  Das  Rath- 
sel '  (see,  also,  the  note  in  their  third  vol- 
ume), and  the  West  Highland  story,  '  The 
Ridere  (Knight)  of  Riddles,'  Campbell,  No 
22,  II,  27.  In  the  former,  as  in  the  Russian 
tale,  it  is  the  princess  that  must  be  puzzled 
before  she  will  yield  her  hand ;  in  the  latter, 
an  unmatchable  beauty  is  to  be  had  by  no  man 
who  does  not  put  a  question  which  her  father 
cannot  solve. 


*  Gozzi  retains  the  first  and  third  riddles,  Schiller  only  the 
third.  By  a  happy  idea,  new  riddles  were  intrudaced  at  the 
successive  performances  of  Schiller's  play.  Turandot  ap- 
pears as  a  traditional  tale  in  Schneller's  Marchen  u.  Sagen 
aus  Walschtirol,  No  49,  p.  132,  "  I  tre  Indoviuelli." 

t  The  castle  with  walla  and  gate  thus  equipped,  or  a  pal- 
isade of  stakes  each  crowned  with  a  bead,  is  all  but  a  com- 
monplace in  such  adventures.  This  grim  stroke  of  fancy  is 
53 


best  in  '  La  mule  sanz  frain,'  where  there  are  four  hundred 
stakes,  a//  but  one  surmounted  with  a  bloody  head:  Meon, 
Nouveau  Kecueil,  I,  15,  w  429-37.  For  these  parlous  prin- 
cesses, of  all  sorts,  see  Grundtvig,  '  Den  farlige  Jomfru,'  IV, 
43ff,  No  184. 

X  Von  Hammer,  Geschichte  der  schonen  Bedekunste  Per- 
giens,  p.  116,  previously  cited  by  von  der  Hagen,  Gesammt- 
abenteuer,  III,  Ixii. 


418 


46.    CAPTAIN   WEDDERBURN'S  COURTSHIP 


Here  may  be  put  three  drolleries,  all  clearly 
of  the  same  origin,  in  which  a  fool  wins  a 
princess  by  nonplussing  her:  'The  Three 
Questions,'  Halliwell's  Popular  Rhymes  and 
Nursery  Tales,  p.  32 ;  a  "  schwank  "  of  the 
fourteenth  century,  by  Heinz  der  Kellner, 
von  der  Hagen's  Gesaramtabenteuer,  No  63, 
III,  179  (there  very  improperly  called  Turan- 
dot) ;  '  Spurningen,'  Asbjornson  og  Moe, 
Norske  Folkeeventyr,  No  4,  Dasent,  Popular 
Tales  from  the  Norse,  p.  148.  According  to 
the  first  of  these,  the  king  of  the  East  Angles 
promises  his  clever  daughter  to  any  one  who 
can  answer  three  of  her  questions  (in  the 
other  versions,  more  correctly,  silence  her). 
Three  brothers,  one  of  them  a  natural,  set  out 
for  the  court,  and,  on  the  way.  Jack  finds  suc- 
cessively an  egg,  a  crooked  hazel-stick,  and 
a  nut,  and  each  time  explodes  with  laughter. 
When  they  are  ushered  into  tlie  presence, 
Jack  bawls  out.  What  a  troop  of  fair  ladies  I 
"  Yes,"  says  the  pi'incess,  "  we  are  fair  ladies, 
for  we  carry  fire  in  our  bosoms."  "  Then 
roast  me  an  egg,"  says  Jack,  pulling  out  the 
egg  from  his  pocket.  "  How  will  j^ou  get  it 
out  again  ?  "  asks  the  princess  ?  "  With  a 
crooked  stick,"  says  Jack,  producing  the  same. 
"  Where  did  that  come  from?  "  says  the  prin- 
cess. "  From  a  nut,"  answers  Jack,  pulling 
out  the  nut.  And  so,  as  the  princess  is 
silenced,  the  fool  gets  her  in  marriage.* 

Even  nowadays  riddles  play  a  noteworthy 
part  in  the  marriages  of  Russian  peasants.  In 
the  government  Pskof,  as  we  are  informed  by 
Khudyakof,  the  bridegroom's  party  is  not  ad- 
mitted into  the  bride's  house  until  all  the  rid- 
dles given  by  the  party  of  the  bride  have  been 
answered ;  whence  the  saying  or  proverb,  to 
the  behoof  of  bridegrooms,  Choose  comrades 
that  can  guess  riddles.  In  the  village  of  Dav- 
shina,  in  the  Yaroslav  government,  the  bride- 
groom's best  man  presents  himself  at  the 
bride's  house  on  the  wedding-day,  and  finding 
a  man,  called  the  bride-seller,  sitting  by  the 
bride,  asks  him  to  surrender  the  bride  and  va- 


cate his  place.  "  Fair  and  softly,"  answers  the 
seller ;  "  you  will  not  get  the  bride  for  noth- 
ing ;  make  us  a  bid,  if  you  will.  And  how  will 
you  trade?  will  you  pay  in  riddles  or  in  gold?" 
If  the  best  man  is  prepared  for  the  emergency, 
as  we  must  suppose  he  always  would  be,  he 
answers,  I  will  pay  in  riddles.  Half  a  dozen 
or  more  riddles  are  now  put  by  the  seller,  of 
which  these  are  favoi-able  specimens :  Give  me 
the  sea,  full  to  the  brim,  and  with  a  bottom 
of  silver.  The  best  man  makes  no  answer  in 
words,  but  fills  a  bowl  with  beer  and  lays  a 
coin  at  the  bottom.  Tell  me  the  thing,  naked 
itself,  which  has  a  shift  over  its  bosom.  The 
best  man  hands  the  seller  a  candle.  Finally 
the  seller  says.  Give  me  something  which  the 
master  of  this  house  lacks.  The  best  man  then 
brings  in  the  bridecjroom.  The  seller  gives 
up  his  seat,  and  hands  the  best  man  a  plate, 
saying.  Put  in  this  what  all  pretty  girls  like. 
The  best  man  puts  in  what  money  he  thinks 
proper,  the  bridesmaids  take  it  and  quit  the 
house,  and  the  bridegroom's  friends  carry  off 
the  bride. 

So,  apparently  in  some  ballad,  a  maid  gives 
riddles,  and  will  marry  only  the  man  who  will 
guess  them. 

By  day  like  a  hoop, 

By  night  like  a  snake  ; 
Who  reads  my  riddle, 

I  take  him  for  mate.     (A  belt.) 

No  1103  of  Khudyakof.t 

In  RadlofE's  Songs  and  Tales  of  the  Turk- 
ish tribes  in  East  Siberia,  I,  60,  a  father,  want- 
ing a  wife  for  his  son,  applies  to  another  man, 
who  has  a  marriageable  daughter.  The  latter 
will  not  make  a  match  unless  the  young  man's 
father  will  come  to  him  with  pelt  and  sans 
pelt,  by  the  road  and  not  by  the  road,  on  a 
horse  and  yet  not  on  a  horse  :  see  8  ff  of  this 
volume.  The  young  man  gives  his  father 
proper  instructions,  and  wins  his  wife. 

A  Lithuanian  mother  sends  her  daughter 
to  the  wood  to  fetch  "  winter  May  and  sum- 


*  The  German  schwank  affixes  the  forfeit  of  the  head  to 
failure.  In  the  Norwegian  the  unsuccessful  brothers  get  off 
with  a  thrashing.  The  fire  in  the  English,  found  also  in  the 
German,  recalls  the  third  task  in  the  Gesta  Romanorum. 


t  Khudyakof,  in  the  Ethnograi)hical  Collection  of  the  Rus- 
sian Geographical  Society,  Etnografitcheskiy  Sbornik,  etc., 
VI,  9,  10,8.  Ralston,  The  Songs  of  the  Russian  People, 
p.  353. 


46.    CAPTAIN   WEDDERBURN'S   COURTSHIP 


419 


mer  snow."  She  meets  a  herdsman,  and  asks 
where  she  can  find  these.  The  herdsman 
offers  to  teach  her  these  riddles  in  return  for 
her  love,  and  she  complying  with  these  terms, 
gives  her  the  answers  :  The  evergreen  tree  is 
winter  May,  and  sea-foam  is  summer  snow. 
Beitrage  zur  Kunde  Prenssens,  I,  515  (Rhesa), 
and  Ausland,  1839,  p.  1230. 

The  European  tales,  excepting  the  three 
drolleries  (and  even  they  are  perhaps  to  be  re- 
garded only  as  parodies  of  the  others),  must 
be  of  Oriental  derivation  ;  but  the  far  north 
presents  us  with  a  similar  story  in  the  lay  of 
Alvfss,  in  the  elder  Edda.  The  dwarf  Alvfss 
comes  to  claim  Freya  for  his  bride  by  virtue 
of  a  promise  from  the  gods.  Thor  *  says  that 
the  bride  is  in  his  charge,  and  that  he  was 


from  home  when  the  promise  was  made :  at 
any  rate,  Alviss  shall  not  have  the  maid  unless 
he  can  answer  all  the  questions  that  shall  be 
put  him.  Thor  then  requires  Alviss  to  give 
him  the  names  of  earth,  heaven,  moon,  sun, 
etc.,  ending  with  barley  and  the  poor  creature 
small  beer,  in  all  the  worlds  ;  that  is,  in  the 
dialect  of  the  gods,  of  mankind,  giants,  elves, 
dwarfs,  etc.  Alviss  does  this  with  such  com- 
pleteness as  to  extort  Thor's  admiration,  but 
is  craftily  detained  in  so  doing  till  after  sun- 
rise, when  Thor  cries.  You  are  taken  in ! 
Above  ground  at  dawn  !  and  the  dwarf  turns 
to  stone. 

Translated,    in    part,     after     Aytoun,    by 
Knortz,  Schottische  Balladen,  p.  107. 


a.  Herd's  MS.,  I,  161.    b.  The  same,  II,  100. 

1  The  laird  of  Bristoll's   daughter  was  in  the 

woods  walking, 
And  by  came  Captain  Wetberboum,  a  servant 

to  tbe  king ; 
And   he   said  to   his  livery  man,  Wer  't  not 

against  the  law, 
I  would  tak  her  to  mine  ain  bed,  and  lay  her 

neist  the  wa. 

2  '  I  'm  into  my  father's  woods,  amongst  my  fa- 

ther's trees, 
O  kind  sir,  let  mee  walk  alane,  O  kind  sir,  if 

you  please ; 
The  butler's  bell  it  will  be  rung,  and  I  'U  be 

mist  awa  ; 
I'U   lye   into  mine  ain   bed,  neither  at   stock 

nor  wa.' 

3  '  0  my  bonny  lady,  the  bed  it 's  not  be  mine. 
For  I  'U  command  my  servants  for  to  call  it 

thine  ; 
The  hangings  are  silk  satin,  the  sheets  are  hol- 

land  sma, 
And  we  's  baith  lye  in  ae  bed,  but  you  's  lye 

neist  the  wa. 


4  '  And  so,  my  bonny  lady,  —  I  do  not  know 

your  name,  — 
But  my  name  's  Captain  Wetherburn,  and  I  'm 

a  man  of  fame ; 
Tho  your  father  and  a'  his  men  were  here,  I 

would  na  stand  in  awe 
To  tak  you  to  mine  ain  bed,  and  lay  you  neist 

the  wa. 

5  '  Oh  my  bonny,  bonny  lady,  if  you  11  gie  me 

your  hard, 
You  shall  hae  drums  and  trumpets  to  sound  at 

your  command ; 
Wi   fifty  men   to   guard  you,  sae  weel   their 

swords  can  dra, 
And  wee  's  baith  lye   in  ae  bed,  but  you 's  lye 

neist  the  wa.' 

6  He  's  mounted   her  upon  a  steid,  behind  his 

gentleman. 
And  he  himself  did  walk  afoot,  to  had  his  lady 

on. 
With  his  hand  about  her  midle  sae  jimp,  for 

fear  that  she  should  fa  ; 
She   man  lye  in  his  bed,  but  she  '11  not  lye 

neist  the  wa. 


*  Vigfusson  objects  to  Thor  being  the  interlocutor,  though 
that  is  the  name  in  the  MS.,  because  cunning  does  not  snit 
Thor's   blunt  character,  and  proposes  Odin  instead.    "  May 


be  the  dwarf  first  met  Thor  (Wiugthor),  whereupon  Woden 
( Wingi)  came  up."     Corpus  Poeticum  Boreale,  I,  81. 


420 


46.    CAPTAIN   WEDDERBURN'S  COURTSHIP 


7  He  's  taen  her  into  Edinburgh,  his  landlady- 
cam  ben : 

'  And  monny  bonny  ladys  in  Edinburgh  has  I 
seen, 

But  the  like  of  this  fine  creature  my  eyes  they 
never  sa ; ' 

'  O  dame  bring  ben  a  down-bed,  for  she  's  lye 
neist  the  wa.' 


13  '  Virgus  is  greener  than  the  grass,  heaven 's 

higher  than  the  tree  ; 
The  dell 's  war  than  a  woman's  wish,  hell 's 

deeper  than  the  sea  ; 
The  cock  sings  first,  on  the  Sugar  Loaf  the  dew 

down  first  does  fa  ; 
And  ye  man  lye  in  my  bed,  betweest  me  and 

the  wa.' 


8  '  Hold  your  tongue,  young  man,'  she  said, '  and 
dinna  trouble  me. 
Unless  you  get  to  my  supper,  and  that  is  dishes 

three ; 
Dishes  three   to   my  supper,  tho  I  eat   nane 

SLlt    3/  y 

Before  I  lye  in  your  bed,  but  I  winna  lye  neist 
the  wa. 


14  '  Hold  your  tongue,  young  man,'  she  said,  '  I 
pray  you  give  it  oer. 

Unless  you  tell  me  questions,  and  that  is  ques- 
tions four  ; 

Tell  me  them  as  I  shall  ask  them,  and  that  is 
twa  by  twa, 

Before  I  lye  in  your  bed,  but  I  winna  lye  neist 
the  wa. 


9  '  You  maun  get  to  my  supper  a  cherry  but  a 
stane, 

And  you  man  get  to  my  supper  a  capon  but  a 
bane. 

And  you  man  get  a  gentle  bird  that  flies  want- 
ing the  ga. 

Before  I  lye  in  your  bed,  but  I  '11  not  lye  neist 
the  wa.' 


15  '  You  man  get  to  me  a  plumb  that  does  in  win- 
ter grow ; 

And  likewise  a  silk  mantle  that  never  waft 
gaed  thro  ; 

A  sparrow's  horn,  a  priest  unborn,  this  night 
to  join  us  twa, 

Before  I  lye  in  your  bed,  but  I  winna  lye  neist 
the  wa.' 


10  '  A  cherry  whan  in  blossom  is  a  cherry  but  a 

stane ; 
A  capon  when  he 's  in  the  egg  canna  hae  a 

bane  ; 
The  dow  it  is  a  gentle  bird  that  flies  wanting 

the  ga ; 
And  ye  man  lye  in  my  bed,  between  me  and 

the  wa.' 

11  '  Hold  your  tongue,  young  man,'  she  said, '  and 

dinna  me  perplex. 

Unless  you  tell  me  questions,  and  that  is  ques- 
tions six ; 

TeU  me  them  as  I  shall  ask  them,  and  that  is 
twa  by  twa. 

Before  I  lye  in  your  bed,  but  I  '11  not  lye  neist 
the  wa. 


16  '  There  is  a  plumb  in  my  father's  yeard  that 

does  in  winter  grow  ; 
Likewise  he  has  a  silk  mantle  that  never  waft 

gaed  thro ; 
A  sparrow's  horn,  it  may  be  found,  there  's  ane 

in  every  tae, 
Tliere  's  ane  upo  the  mouth  of  him,  perhaps 

there  may  be  twa. 

17  '  The  priest  is  standing  at  the  door,  just  ready 

to  come  in ; 
Nae  man  could  sae  that  he  was  born,  to  lie  it 

is  a  sin ; 
For  a  wild  boar  bored  his  mother's  side,  he  out 

of  it  did  fa  ; 
And  you  man  lye  in  my  bed,  between  me  and 

the  wa.' 


12  '  What  is  greener  than  the  grass,  what 's  higher 

than  the  tree  ? 
What 's  war  than  a  woman's  wiss,  what 's  deeper 

than  the  sea? 
What  bird  sings  first,  and  whereupon  the  dew 

down  first  does  fa  ? 
Before  I  lye  in  your  bed,  but  I  '11  not  lye  neist 

the  wa.' 


18  Little  kent  Grizey  Sinclair,  that  morning  when 

she  raise, 
'T  was  to  be  the  hindermost  of  a'  her  single 

days; 
For  now  she  's  Captain  Wetherburn's  wife,  a 

man  she  never  saw, 
And  she  man  lye  in  his  bed,  but  she  '11  not  lye 

neist  the  wa. 


46.    CAPTAIN  WEDDEBBURN'S   COURTSHIP 


421 


a.  Kinloch  MSS,  I,  83,  from  Marj-  Barr's  recitation. 
b.  Lord  Roslin's  Daughter's  Garland,  c.  Buchan's  MSS, 
11,34.  d.  Jamieson's  Popular  Ballads,  II,  159.  e.  Harris 
MS.,  fol.  19  b,  No  14,  from  Mrs  Harris's  recitation,  f. 
Notes  and  Queries,  2d  S.,  IV,  170,  "  as  sung  among  the  peas- 
antry of  the  Meams,"  1857. 

1  The  Lord  of  Rosslyn's  daughter  gaed  through 
the  wud  her  lane, 

And  there  she  met  Captain  Wedderburn,  a  ser- 
vant to  the  king. 

He  said  unto  his  livery-man,  "Were 't  na  agen 
the  law, 

I  wad  tak  her  to  my  ain  bed,  and  lay  her  at 
the  wa. 


6  Then  he  lap  a£E  his  milk-white  steed,  and  set 

the  lady  on, 
And  a'  the  way  he  walkd  on  foot,  he  held  her 

by  the  hand  ; 
He  held  her  by  the  middle  jimp,  for  fear  that 

she  should  fa ; 
Saying,  I  '11  tak  ye  to  my  ain  bed,  and  lay  thee 

at  the  wa. 

7  He  took  her  to  his  quartering-house,  his  land- 

lady looked  ben, 
Saying,   Monie    a   pretty  ladie   in   Eduibruch 

I  've  seen  ; 
But  sic  'na  pretty  ladie  is  not  into  it  a' : 
Gae,  mak  for  her  a  fine  down-bed,  and  lay  her 

at  the  wa. 


2  '  I  'm  walking  here  my  lane,'  she  says,  '  amang 

my  father's  trees  ;• 
And  ye  may  lat  me  walk  my  lane,  kind  sir,  now 

gin  ye  please. 
The  supper-bell  it  will  be  rung,  and  I  '11  be 

missd  awa ; 
Sae  1 11  na  lie  in  your  bed,  at  neither  stock 

nor  wa.' 


8  '  0  baud  awa  frae  me,  kind  sir,  I  pray  ye  lat 

me  be, 
For  I  'U  na  lie  in  your  bed  till  I  get  dishes 

three; 
Dishes  three  maun  be  dressd    for  me,    gif  I 

should  eat  them  a', 
Before  I  lie  in  your  bed,  at  either  stock  or 

wa. 


3  He  said,  My  pretty  lady,  I  pray  lend  me  your 

hand. 
And  ye  '11  hae  drums  and  trumpets  always  at 

your  command  ; 
And  fifty  men  to  guard  ye  wi,  that  weel  their 

swords  can  draw ; 
Sae  we  '11  baith  lie  in  ae  bed,  and  ye  '11  lie  at 

the  wa. 


9  '  'T  is  I  maun  hae  to  my  supper  a  chicken 
without  a  bane ; 

And  I  maun  hae  to  my  supper  a  cherry  with- 
out a  stane ; 

And  I  maun  hae  to  my  supper  a  bird  without 
a  gaw. 

Before  I  lie  in  your  bed,  at  either  stock  or 
wa.' 


4  *  Haud  awa  frae  me,  kind  sir,  I  pray  let  go  my 

hand ; 
The   supper-bell  it  will  be   rung,  nae   langer 

maun  I  stand. 
My  father  he  '11  na  supper  tak,  gif  I  be  missd 

awa ; 
Sae  I  'U  na  lie  in  your  bed,   at  neither  stock 

nor  wa.' 


10  '  Whan  the  chicken  's  in  the  shell,  I  am  sure  it 

has  na  bane  ; 
And  whan  the  cherry 's  in  the  bloom,  I  wat  it 

has  na  stane  ; 
The  dove  she  is  a  genty  bird,  she  flees  without 

a  gaw ; 
Sae  we  'U  baith  lie  in  ae  bed,  and  ye  '11  be  at 

the  wa.' 


5  '  O  my  name  is  Captain  Wedderburn,  my  name 

I  'U  neer  deny. 
And  I  command  ten  thousand  men,  upo  yon 

mountains  high. 
Tho  your  father  and  his  men  were  here,  of 

them  I  'd  stand  na  awe, 
But  should  tak  ye  to  my  ain  bed,  and  lay  ye 

neist  the  wa.' 


11  '  O  haud  awa  frae  me,  kind  sir,  I  pray  ye  give 

me  owre, 
For  I  'U  na  lie  in  your  bed,  till  I  get  presents 

four  ; 
Presents  four  ye  maun  gie  me,  and  that  is  twa 

and  twa. 
Before  I  lie  in  your  bed,  at  either  stock  or 

wa. 


422 


46.    CAPTAIN   WEDDERBUKN'S  COUBTSHIP 


12  '  'T  is  I   maun  hae  some  winter  fruit  that  in 

December  grew  ; 
And  I  maun  hae  a  sUk  mantil  that  waft  gaed 

never  through  ; 
A  sparrow's  horn,  a  priest  unborn,  this  nicht 

to  join  us  twa, 
Before  I  lie  in  your  bed,  at  either  stock  or  wa. ' 

13  '  My  father  has  some  winter  fruit  that  in  De- 

cember grew  ; 
My  mither  has  a  silk  mantil  the  waft  gaed 

never  through  ; 
A  sparrow's  horn  ye  soon  may  find,  there  's 

ane  on  evry  claw, 
And  twa  upo  the  gab  o  it,  and  ye  shall  get 

them  a". 

14  '  The  priest  he  stands  without  the  yett,  just 

ready  to  come  in  ; 
Nae  man  can  say  he   eer  was  born,  nae  man 

without  he  sin  ; 
He  was  haill  cut  frae  his  mither's  side,  and 

frae  the  same  let  fa  ; 
Sae  we  '11  baith  lie  in  ae  bed,  and  ye  'se  lie  at 

the  wa.' 

15  '  0  haud  awa  frae  me,  kind  sir,  I  pray  don't 

me  perplex. 
For  I  'U  na  lie  in  your  bed  till  ye  answer  ques- 
tions six  : 


Questions  six  ye  maun  answer  me,  and  that  is 

four  and  twa. 
Before  I  lie  in  your  bed,  at  either  stock  or  wa. 

16  '  O   what  is  greener  than   the  gress,  what 's 

higher  than  thae  trees  ? 
O  what  is  worse  than  women's  wish,  what 's 

deeper  than  the  seas  ? 
What   bird  craws  first,  what  tree  buds  first, 

what  first  does  on  them  fa  ? 
Before  I  lie  in  your  bed,  at  either  stock  or 

wa.' 

17  '  Death  is  greener  than  the  gress,  heaven  higher 

than  thae  trees  ; 
The  devil 's  waur   than  women's   wish,  hell 's 

deeper  than  the  seas  ; 
The  cock  craws  first,  the  cedar  buds  first,  dew 

first  on  them  does  fa ; 
Sae  we  'U  baith  lie  in  ae  bed,  and  ye  'se  lie  at 

the  wa.' 

18  Little  did  this  lady  think,  that  morning  whan 

she  raise. 
That  this  was  for  to  be  the  last  o  a'  her  maiden 

days. 
But   there's   na  into  the   king's    realm  to   be 

found  a  blither  twa. 
And  now  she  's  Mrs.  Wedderburn,  and  she  lies 

at  the  wa. 


0 


Sheldon's  Minstrelsy  of  the  English  Border,  p.  232,  as  re- 
cited "  by  a  lady  of  Berwick  on  Tweed,  who  used  to  sing  it 
in  her  childhood,  and  had  learnt  it  from  her  nurse." 

1  The  laird  of  Roslin's  daughter  walked  thro  the 

wood  her  lane, 
And  by  came  Captain  Wedderburn,  a  servant 

to  the  Queen ; 
He   said   unto   his   serving   man,   Wer'  t   not 

agaynst  the  law, 
I  would  tak  her  to  my  ain  house  as  lady  o  my  ha. 

2  He  said.  My  pretty  ladye,  I  pray  give  me  your 

hand  ; 
You  shall  have  drums  and  trumpets  always  at 

your  command ; 
With  fifty  men  to  guard  you,  that  well  their 

swords  can  draw. 
And  I  '11  tak  ye  to  my  ain  bed,  and  lay  you 

next  the  wa. 


3  '  I  'm  walking  in  my  feyther's  shaws  : '  quo  he, 

My  charming  maid, 
I  am  much  better  than  I  look,  so  be  you  not 

afraid  ; 
For  I  serve  the   queen  of  a'  Scotland,  and  a 

gentil  dame  is  she  ; 
So  we  'se  be  married  ere  the  morn,  gin  ye  can 

fancy  me. 


'  The  sparrow  shall  toot  on  his  horn,  gif  nae- 

thing  us  befa. 
And  I  '11  mak  you  up  a  down-bed,  and  lay  you 

next  the  wa. 

5  '  Now  hold  away  from  me,  kind  sir,  I  pray  you 
let  me  be ; 
I  wont   be  lady  of  your  ha  tiU  you  answer 
questions  three ; 


46.    CAPTAIN   WEDDERBUBN'S  COURTSHIP 


423 


Questions  three  you  must  answer  me,  and  that 

is  one  and  twa, 
Before  I  gae  to  Woodland's  house,  and  be  lady 

o  your  ha. 

6  '  You  must  get  me  to  my  supper  a  chicken 

without  a  bone  ; 

You  must  get  me  to  my  supper  a  cherry  with- 
out a  stone ; 

You  must  get  me  to  my  supper  a  bird  without 
aga. 

Before  I  go  to  Woodland's  house  and  be  lady 
of  your  ha.' 

7  '  When  the  cherry  is  in  the  bloom,  I  'm  sure  it 

has  no  stone  ; 
When  the  cliicken  's  in  the  shell,  I  'm  sure  it 

has  nae  bone ; 
The  dove  she  is  a  gentU  bird,  and  flies  without 

a  ga; 
So  I  've   answered  you  your  questions   three, 

and  you  're  lady  of  my  ha.' 


9  He  answered  then  so  readily  :  Heaven 's  higher 
than  the  trees  ; 
The  devil 's  worse  than  woman's  voice ;  hell 's 
deeper  than  the  seas ; 


10  '  One  question  still  you  must  answer  me,  or  you 
I  laugh  to  scorn  ; 
Go  seek  me  out  an  English  priest,  of  woman 
never  bora ; ' 


11  '  Oh  then,'  quo  he,  '  my  young  brother  from 
mother's  side  was  torn. 
And  he  's  a  gentU  English  priest,  of  woman 
never  bom ; ' 


8  *  Questions  three  you  must  answer  me :  What  'a 
higher  than  the  trees  ? 
And  what  is  worse  than  woman's  voice  ?  What 's 
deeper  than  the  seas?  ' 


12  Little  did  his  lady  think,  that  morning  when 
she  raise. 
It  was  to  be  the  very  last  of  all  her  mayden 
days; 


a.  2*.  I  lye.     4''''  and  5''*  have  been  inter- 

changed. 5*.  lye  you.  b.  lay.  7^. 
teen.  17^  priest  was.  17^.  it  was. 
17'.  boned  (?)  b  has  bored, 
b  is  a  copy  of  a,  Imt  with  the  long  lines 
broken  up  into  two,  and  some  slight 
variations. 

b.  3*.  And  we  '11. 

5^.  Omits  if.     6'.  Omits  sae  jimp. 
11^.  and  they  are  questions.     12^  wish. 
13*.  betwixt. 
In  stanzas  of  four  short  lines. 
a.    16^  17*.   Var.  women's  vice.  17*.  Var.  Poi- 
son is  greener. 
17^   Var.  There  's  nathing  waur. 
b.  Lord  Roslin's  Daughter's  Garland.     Con- 
taining three  excellent  new  songs. 
I.    The  Drunkard  Reformed. 
n.   The  Devil  and  the  Grinder. 
in.    Lord  Roslin's  Daughter. 
Licensed  and  entered  according  to  order. 


1'.  walks  throw.     I''.  And  by  came. 

1».  servant  man.     IS  3*,  6*,  7*,  10*,  14*, 

18*.  next  the  wa.    17*.  neist. 
2',  4'.  missd   you   know.     3*.  And  we  '11 

.  .  .  and  thou  's  ly  next. 
4«.  wUl  I.     4*.  So  I  not. 

5*'  ^.  Then  said  the  pretty  lady,  I  pray  tell 
me  your  name. 
My  name  is  Captain  Wedderburn,  a 
servant  to  the  king. 

6*.  of  him  I  'd  not  stand  in  aw. 

6».  He  lighted  off. 

6^  And  held  her  by  the  milk-white  hand 
even  as  they  rode  along. 

6».  so  jimp.  6*.  So  I  '11  take.  7».  lodg- 
ing house. 

7*.  But  such  a  pretty  face  as  thine  in  it 
I  never  saw. 

7*.  make  her  up  a  down-bed. 


424 


4C.    CAPTAIX   WEDDERBURN'S  COURTSHIP 


8".  will  not  go  to  your  bed  till  you  dress 

me. 
8^  three  you  must  do  to  me. 
9'.  O  I  must  have  ...  a  cherry  without 

a  stone. 
9'.  a  chicken  without  a  bone. 

10*'  '.  When  the  cherry  is  into  the  bloom  I 
am  sure  it  hath  no  stone, 
And  when  tlie  chicken  's  in  the  shell 
I  'm  sure  it  hath  no  bone. 

10'.  it  is  a  gentle. 

ll''.  I  will  not  go  till  .  .  .  till  you  answer 
me  questions. 

11°.  Questions  four  you  must  tell  me. 

12*.  You  must  get  to  me.  12^.  That  the 
wraft  was  near  ca'd. 

12''  *  and  16''  *  (and  consequently  13'*  *, 
17*'  *)  are  wrongly  interchanged  in 
b,  mixing  up  ferlies  and  questions. 

a  12'' «,  13'' «,  14,  15,  16'- ^  16='*,  IV- \ 

W-*—  b  15''  *,  16»'  *,  17, 14, 151-  \ 
128. 4^  igi,  2^  133, 4_ 

13".  the  wraft  was  neer  ca'd  throw. 

13''  *.  A  sparrow's  horn  you  well  may  get, 
there's  one  on  ilka  pa. 

14^.  standing  at  the  door. 

14'.  A  hole  cut  in  his  mother's  side,  he 
from  the  same  did  fa. 

IB'^.  And  what  .  .  .  women's  voice. 

16'.  What  bird  sings  best,  and  wood  buds 
first,  that  dew  does  on  them  fa. 

17^.  sky  is  higher.  17".  worse  than  wo- 
men's voice. 

17'.  the  dew  does  on  them  fa. 

18".  the  last  night.  18'.  now  they  both  lie 
in  one  bed. 

o  closely  resembling  b,  the  variations  from 
b  are  given. 
o.    1.  came  omitted,  v.  2  ;  unto,  v.  3. 

2.  into  your  bed,  v.  4. 

3.  guard  you  .  .  .  who  well,  v.   3  ;  into 

.  .  .  thou  'It,  V.  4. 
5^"  ".  Then  says,  v.  1. 

6.  lighted  from  .  .  .  this  lady,  v.  1 ;  mid- 

dle jimp,  V.  3. 

7.  pretty  fair,  v.  2  ;  as  this,  v.  3. 
.  8.  dress  me,  v.  3. 

9.  unto,  vv  1,2  ;  0  1  must,  v.  2. 

10.  in  the  bloom,  v.l;  we  both  shall  ly  in, 

V.  4. 

11.  will  give  oer,  v.  1 ;  to  your  .  .  .  you 

tell  me,  v.  2. 


12.  You  must  get  to  me  .  .  .  that  waft,  v. 

2 ;    bird   sings    first  ...  on    them 
does,  V.  3. 

13.  sings  first,  v.  3. 

14.  in  your  .  .  .  you  tell  me,  v.2  ;  I  'U  ly 

in,  V.  4. 

15.  What  is  .  .  .  woman's,  v.  2  ;  I  '11  ly  in, 

V.  4. 

16.  Death 's  greener  than  the  grass,  hell 's 

deeper  than  the  seas. 
The  devil 's  worse  than  woman's  voice, 
sky  's  higher  than  the  trees,  vv  1,2  ; 
every  paw,  v.  3  ;  thou  shalt,  v.  4. 
18.  the  lady  .  •  .  rose,  v.  1 ;  It  was  to  be 
the  very  last,  v.  2  ;  they  ly  in  ae,  v.  4. 
d.  Follows  the  broadside   (b,  c)  through  the 
first  nine   stanzas,   with  changes  from 
JamiesorC s   "  own  recollection,"  or  inven- 
tion, and  one  from  A,     10  7ias  certainly 
arbitrary    alterations.     The    remaining 
eight  stanzas  are  the  corresponding  ones 
of  A   treated  freely.     The    comparison 
here  is  with  b,  readings  from  A  in  11-18 
not  being  noticed. 
1'.  serving  men. 
2'.  mist  awa,  from  A ;  so  in  4',  a  stanza 

not  in  A. 
6'.  I  'd  have  nae  awe. 
6\  He    lighted    afE  .  .  .  this    lady.     6». 
middle  jimp.     6*.  To  tak  her  to  his 
ain. 
7*.  sic   a  lovely  face   as   thine.     1*.  Gae 

mak  her  down. 
8'.  maun  dress  to  me. 
9^.  It 's  ye  maun  get.    9-' '.  And  ye  maun 
get. 
10^.  It 's  whan  the  cherry  is  in  the  flirry. 
10".  in  the  egg. 
10'.  And  sin  the  flood  o  Noah  the  dow  she 

had  nae  ga. 
A,  B  d,  11,  121' ",  131' ",  14,  151- ",  16'' "  = 
B  b,  c,  14, 151' ",  161- ",  11,  12'- ",  13'- ". 
11^.  and  gie  your  fleechin  oer. 
11".  Unless  you  '11  find  me  ferlies,  and  that 

is  ferlies  four. 
11'.  Ferlies  four  ye  maun  find  me. 
11*.  Or  I  '11  never  lie. 
12".  And  get  to  me.     12'.  doth  first  down. 
12*.  Ye  sail  tell  afore  I  lay  me  down  be- 
tween you  and  the  wa. 
13".  has  an  Indian  gown  that  waft. 
13'.  on  cedar  top  the  dew. 
14".  that  gait  me  perplex.    14'.  three  times 
twa. 


47.    PROUD   LADY  MARGABET 


425 


16^ 
17", 
18». 


IS'',  the  greenest  grass.     15^  war  jior  an 

ill  woman's  wish. 
16'.  horn  is  quickly  found  ...  on  every 
claw. 
There  's  ane  upon  the  neb  of  him. 
A  wild  bore  tore  his  raither's  side, 
now  there  's  nae  within  the  realm,  I 
think. 
e  has  stanzas  1,  5  (?),  9, 12, 10, 13, 14  of 
a,  the  first  two  imperfect.     The  last 
line  of  each  stanza  is  changed,  no 
doubt  for  delicacy's  sake,  to  I  will 
tak  you  wi  me,  I  tell  you,  aye  or  na, 
or  tlie  like. 

1.  The  Earl  o  Roslin's  dochter  gaed  out  to 
tak  the  air  ; 
She  met  a  gallant  gentleman,  as  hame 
she  did  repair ; 

I  wiU  tak  you  wi  me,  I  tell  you,  aye  or 
no. 

5(?).  I  am  Captain  "Wedderburn,  a  ser- 
vant to  the  king.  C. 


I  will  tak  you  wi  me,  I  tell  you,  aye  or 


no. 


9^.  I  maun  hae  to  my  supper  a  bird  with- 
out a  bone. 
9'.  An  I  maun  hae   a  gentle  bird    that 

flies. 
9*.  Before  that  I  gae  with  you,  I  tell  you, 
aye  or  na. 
10^.  When  the  bird  is  in  the  egg.     10^  in 

the  bud  .  .  .  I  'm  sure. 
10*.  it  is  a  gentle  bird. 
12'^,  13-.  a  gey  mantle  .  .  .  neer  ca'ed. 
13*.  sune  saU  get. 

14^.  is  standing  at.     14^  say  that  he  was 
...  a  sin. 
f.  Stanzas  9,  10  only. 

9*.  'T  is  I  maun  hae  to  my  supper  a  bird 

without  a  bone. 
9^.  withouten  stone.     9*.  withouten  ga. 
10^.  When  the  bird  is  in  the  shell,  1  'm  sure. 
10*.  I  'm  sure. 

10*.  a  gentle  .  .  .  withouten  ga. 
Printed  in  stanzas  of  four  short  lines. 


47 
PROUD   LADY  MARGARET 

A.  '  Proud   Lady  Margaret,*  Scott's  Minstrelsy,   III,      C.   '  The  Jolly  Hind  Squire,'  Buchan's  MSS,  II,  95. 
275,  ed.  1803. 

D.   '  The  Knicht  o  Archerdale,'  Harris  MS.,  fol.  7,  No  3. 

B.  a.  '  The  Courteous  Knight,'   Buchan's  Ballads  of 

the  North  of  Scotland,   I,   91 ;  Jlotherwell's  MS.,      E.    '  Fair  Margret,'   A.   Laing,   Ancient  Ballads  and 
p.    591.    b.    Motherwell's  Minstrelsy,  Introduction,  Songs,  MS.,  1829,  p.  6. 

p.  Izxxi. 


A  "WAS  communicated  to  Scott  "by  Mr 
Hamilton,  music-seller,  Edinburgh,  with  whose 
mother  it  had  been  a  favorite."  Two  stanzas 
and  one  line  were  wanting,  and  were  supplied 
by  Scott  "  from  a  different  ballad,  having  a 
plot  somewhat  similar."  The  stanzas  were  6 
and  9.  C  was  printed  from  the  MS.,  with  a 
few  changes,  under  the  title  of  '  The  Bonny 
Hind   Squire,'   by  Dixon,  in  Scottish   Tradi- 

54 


tional  Versions  of  Ancient  Ballads,  p.  42,  and 
from  Dixon  in  Bell's  Early  Ballads,  p.  183. 
Christie,  Traditional  Ballad  Airs,  I,  28,  says 
the  ballad  was  caUed  '  Jolly  Janet '  by  the 
old  people  in  Aberdeenshire. 

A-D  are  plainly  compounded  of  two  ballads, 
the  conclusion  being  derived  from  B.  The 
lady's  looking  oer  her  castle  wa,  her  putting 
riddles,  and  her   having   gard   so  mony  die. 


426 


47.    PROUD  LADY  MAEGARKT 


make  the  supposition  far  from  incredible  that 
the  Proud  Lady  Margaret  of  the  first  part  of 
the  ballad  may  originally  have  been  one  of 
the  cruel  princesses  spoken  of  in  the  preface 
to  '  Captain  Wedderburn's  Courtship,'  p.  417. 
But  the  corrupt  condition  of  the  texts  of  A-D 
forbids  any  confident  opinion. 

A  dead  mistress  similarly  admonishes  her 
lover,  in  a  ballad  from  Brittany,  given  in 
Ampdre,  Instructions  relatives  aux  Poesies 
populaires  de  la  France,  p.  36. 

"  Non,  je  ne  dors  ni  ne  soumeille, 
Je  sis  dans  I'enfer  k  bruler. 

"  Aupres  de  moi  reste  une  place, 

C'est  pour  vous,  Piar',  qu'on  I'a  gardee." 

"  Ha !  dites-moi  plustot,  ma  Jeanne, 
Comment  fair'  pour  n'y  point  aller  ?  " 

"  II  faut  aller  k  la  grand-messe, 
Et  aux  vepres,  sans  y  manquer. 

"  Faut  point  aller  aux  fileries, 
Coram'  vous  aviez  d'accoutume. 


"  Ne  faut  point  embrasser  lea  fiUes 
Sur  r  bout  du  coffre  au  pied  du  lect." 

So  Beaurepaire,  Etude,  p.  53 ;  Puymaigre, 
'  La  Damage,'  Chants  populaires,  I,  115  ;  V. 
Smith,  Chants  du  Velay  et  du  Forez,  Romania, 
IV,  449  f, '  La  Concubine  ; '  and  Luzel,  "  Celui 
qui  alia  voir  sa  maitresse  en  enfer,"  I,  44,  45. 
In  this  last,  a  lover,  whose  mistress  has  died, 
goes  into  a  monastery,  vrhere  he  prays  contin- 
ually that  he  may  see  her  again.  The  devil 
presents  himself  in  the  likeness  of  a  young 
man,  and  on  condition  of  being  something 
gently  considered  takes  him  to  hell.  He  sees 
his  mistress  sitting  in  a  fiery  chair  (cf.  B,  30, 
31),  devoured  by  serpents  night  and  day,  and 
is  informed  that  fasts  and  masses  on  his  part 
will  only  make  things  worse.  Like  Dives,  she 
sends  word  to  her  sister  not  to  do  as  she  has 
done.  Some  of  these  traits  are  found  also  in 
one  or  another  of  the  French  versions. 

Translated  bj'^  Doenniges,  p.  6,  after  Scott, 
and  by  Knortz,  Schottische  Balladen,  No  1, 
after  Aytoun,  II,  62. 


Scott's  Minstrelsy,  III,  275,  ed.  1803.  Communicated 
"  by  Mr  Hamilton,  music-seller,  Edinburgh,  with  whose 
mother  it  had  been  a  favorite." 

1  'T  WAS  on  a  night,  an  evening  bright, 

When  the  dew  began  to  fa, 
Lady  Margaret  w!is  walking  up  and  down, 
Looking  oer  her  castle  wa. 

2  She  looked  east  and  she  looked  west, 

To  see  what  she  could  spy, 
"When  a  gallant  knight  came  in  her  sight, 
And  to  the  gate  drew  nigh. 

3  '  You  seem  to  be  no  gentleman, 

You  wear  your  boots  so  wide  ; 
But  you  seem  to  be  some  cunning  hunter, 
You  wear  the  horn  so  syde.' 

4  '  I  am  no  cunning  hunter,'  he  said, 

'  Nor  neer  intend  to  be  ; 


But  I  am  come  to  this  castle 

To  seek  the  love  of  thee. 
And  if  you  do  not  grant  me  love. 

This  night  for  thee  I  'II  die.' 

5  '  If  you  should  die  for  me,  sir  knight, 

There  's  few  for  you  will  meane ; 

For  mony  a  better  has  died  for  me. 

Whose  graves  are  growing  green. 

6  ['  But  ye  maun  read  my  riddle,'  she  said, 

'  And  answer  my  questions  three  ; 
And  but  ye  read  them  right,'  she  said, 
'  Gae  stretch  ye  out  and  die.] 

7  '  Now  what  is  the  flower,  the  ae  first  flower, 

Springs  either  on  moor  or  dale  ? 
And  what  is  the  bird,  the  bonnie  bonnie  bird, 
Sings  on  the  evening  gale  ? ' 

8  '  The  primrose  is  the  ae  first  flower 

Springs  either  on  moor  or  dale. 


47.    PKOUD  LADY  MARGARET 


427 


And  the  thristlecock  is  the  bonniest  bird 
Sings  on  the  evening  gale.' 

9  ['  But  what 's  the  little  coin,'  she  said, 
'  Wald  buy  my  castle  bound  ? 
And  what 's  the  little  boat,'  she  said, 
'  Can  sail  the  world  all  round  ?  '] 

10  '  O  hey,  how  mony  small  pennies 

Make  thrice  three  thousand  pound  ? 
Or  hey,  how  mony  salt  fishes 
Swim  a'  the  salt  sea  round  ? ' 

11  '  I  think  you  maun  be  my  match,'  she  said, 

'  My  match  and  something  luair  ; 
You  are  the  first  eer  got  the  grant 
Of  love  frae  my  father's  heir. 

12  '  My  father  was  lord  of  nine  castles, 

My  mother  lady  of  three  ; 
My  father  was  lord  of  nine  castles, 
And  there  's  nane  to  heir  but  me. 

13  '  And  round  about  a'  thae  castles 

You  may  baith  plow  and  saw, 
And  on  the  fifteenth  day  of  May 
The  meadows  they  wiU  maw.' 

14  '  O  hald  your  tongue.  Lady  Margaret,'  he  said, 

'  For  loud  I  hear  you  lie ; 


Your  father  was  lord  of  nine  castles. 

Your  mother  was  lady  of  tliree  ; 
Your  father  was  lord  of  nine  castles, 

But  ye  fa  heir  to  but  three. 

15  '  And  round  about  a'  thae  castles 

You  may  baith  plow  and  saw, 
But  on  the  fifteenth  day  of  May 
The  meadows  will  not  maw. 

16  'I  am  your  brother  WUlie,'  he  said, 

'  I  trow  ye  ken  na  me  ; 
I  came  to  humble  your  haughty  heart, 
Has  gard  sae  mony  die.' 

17  '  If  ye  be  my  brother  WUlie,'  she  said, 

'  As  I  trow  weel  ye  be, 
This  night  I  'U  neither  eat  nor  drink. 
But  gae  alang  wi  thee.' 

18  '  0  hold  your  tongue,  Lady  Margaret,'  he  said, 

'  Again  I  hear  you  lie  ; 
For   ye  've   unwashen   hands   and  ye  've   un- 
washen  feet, 
To  gae  to  clay  wi  me. 

19  '  For  the  wee  worms  are  my  bedfellows, 

And  cauld  clay  is  my  sheets, 
And  when  the  stormy  winds  do  blow. 
My  body  lies  and  sleeps.' 


B 


a.  Bachan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  I,  91  ; 
Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  591.  b.  Motherwell's  Minstrelsy,  In- 
troduction, p.  Ixxxi. 

1  There  was  a  knight,  in  a  summer's  night, 

Appeard  in  a  lady's  hall. 
As  she  was  walking  up  and  down. 
Looking  oer  her  castle  wall. 

2  '  God  make  you  safe  and  free,  fair  maid, 

God  make  you  safe  and  free  ! ' 

'  O  sae  fa  you,  ye  courteous  knight, 

What  are  your  wills  wi  me  ?  ' 

3  '  My  wills  wi  you  are  not  sma,  lady. 

My  wills  wi  you  nae  sma, 
And  since  there  's  nane  your  bower  within. 
Ye  'se  hae  my  secrets  a'. 


4  '  For  here  am  I  a  courtier, 

A  courtier  come  to  thee, 
And  if  ye  winna  grant  your  love, 
All  for  your  sake  I  'U  dee.' 

5  '  If  that  ye  dee  for  me,  sir  knight. 

Few  for  you  will  make  meen  ; 
For  mony  gude  lord  's  done  the  same. 
Their  graves  are  growing  green.' 

6  '  0  winna  ye  pity  me,  fair  maid, 

O  winna  ye  pity  me  ? 

0  winna  ye  pity  a  courteous  knight. 
Whose  love  is  laid  on  thee  ? ' 

7  *  Ye  say  ye  are  a  courteous  knight, 

But  I  think  ye  are  nane ; 

1  think  ye  're  but  a  miliar  bred. 
By  the  colour  o  your  claithing. 


428 


47.    PROUD  LADY  MARGARET 


8  '  You  seem  to  be  some  false  young  man, 

You  wear  your  hat  sae  wide  ; 
You  seem  to  be  some  false  young  man, 
You  wear  your  boots  sae  side.' 

9  '  Indeed  I  am  a  courteous  knight, 

And  of  great  pedigree  ; 
Nae  knight  did  mair  for  a  lady  bright 
Than  I  will  do  for  thee. 

10  '  O  I  '11  put  smiths  in  your  smithy, 

To  shoe  for  you  a  steed, 
And  I  'U  put  tailors  in  your  bower, 
To  make  for  you  a  weed. 

11  '  I  will  put  cooks  in  your  kitchen. 

And  butlers  in  your  ha. 
And  on  the  tap  o  your  father's  castle 
I  'U  big  gude  com  and  saw.' 

12  '  If  ye  be  a  courteous  knight, 

As  I  trust  not  ye  be, 
Ye  'U  answer  some  o  the  sma  questions 
That  I  will  ask  at  thee. 

13  '  What  is  the  fairest  flower,  tell  me, 

That  grows  in  mire  or  dale  ? 
Likewise,  which  is  the  sweetest  bird 

Sings  next  the  nightingale  ? 
Or  what 's  the  finest  thing,'  she  says, 

'  That  king  or  queen  can  wile  ?  ' 

14  '  The  primrose  is  the  fairest  flower 

That  grows  in  mire  or  dale  ; 
The  mavis  is  the  sweetest  bird 

Next  to  the  nightingale  ; 
And  yellow  gowd  's  the  finest  thing 

That  king  or  queen  can  wale. 

15  '  Ye  hae  asked  many  questions,  lady, 

I  've  you  as  many  told  ; ' 
'  But  how  many  pennies  round 
Make  a  hundred  pounds  in  gold  ? 

16  '  How  many  of  the  small  fishes 

Do  swim  the  salt  seas  round  ? 
Or  what 's  the  seemliest  sight  you  '11  see 
Into  a  May  morning  ?  ' 


17  '  Berry-brown  ale  and  a  birken  speal, 
And  wine  in  a  horn  green ; 


A  milk-white  lace  in  a  fair  maid's  dress 
Looks  gay  in  a  May  morning.' 

18  '  Mony  's  the  questions  I  've  askd  at  thee. 

And  ye  've  answerd  them  a' ; 
Ye  are  mine,  and  I  am  thine, 
Amo  the  sheets  sae  sma. 

19  '  You  may  be  my  match,  kind  sir. 

You  may  be  my  match  and  more  ; 
There  neer  was  ane  came  sic  a  lensth 
Wi  my  father's  heir  before. 

20  *  My  father  's  lord  o  nine  castles. 

My  mother  she  's  lady  ower  three. 
And  there  is  nane  to  heir  them  all. 

No  never  a  ane  but  me ; 
Unless  it  be  Willie,  my  ae  brother. 

But  he  's  far  ayont  the  sea.' 

21  '  If  your  father  's  laird  o  nine  castles, 

Your  mother  lady  ower  three, 
I  am  Willie  your  ae  brother, 
Was  far  beyond  the  sea.' 

22  '  If  ye  be  Willie,  my  ae  brother. 

As  I  doubt  sair  ye  be. 
But  if  it 's  true  ye  tell  me  now. 
This  night  I  '11  gang  wi  thee.' 

23  '  Ye  've  ower  ill  washen  feet,  Janet, 

And  ower  ill  washen  hands. 
And  ower  coarse  robes  on  your  body, 
Alang  wi  me  to  gang. 

24  '  The  worms  they  are  my  bed-fellows. 

And  the  cauld  clay  my  sheet. 
And  the  higher  that  the  wind  does  blaw, 
The  sounder  I  do  sleep. 

25  '  My  body  's  buried  in  Dumfermline, 

And  far  beyond  the  sea, 
But  day  nor  night  nae  rest  coud  get. 
All  for  the  pride  o  thee. 

26  '  Leave  aff  your  pride,  jelly  Janet,'  he  says, 

'  Use  it  not  ony  mair  ; 
Or  when  ye  come  where  I  hae  been 
You  will  repent  it  sair. 

27  '  Cast  aff,  cast  aff,  sister,'  he  says, 

'  The  gowd  lace  frae  your  crown ; 
For  if  ye  gang  where  I  hae  been. 
Ye  '11  wear  it  laigher  down. 


47.    PROUD  LADY  MARGARET 


429 


28  '  When  ye  're  in  the  gude  church  set, 

The  gowd  pins  in  your  hair, 
Ye  take  mair  delight  in  your  feckless  dress 
Than  ye  do  in  your  morning  prayer. 

29  '  And  when  ye  walk  in  the  church-yard, 

And  in  your  dress  are  seen, 
Tliere  is  nae  lady  that  sees  your  face 
But  wishes  your  grave  were  green. 

30  '  You  're  straight  and  taU,  handsome  withall, 

But  your  pride  owergoes  your  wit, 


But  if  ye  do  not  your  ways  refrain, 
In  Pirie's  chair  ye  '11  sit. 

31  '  In  Pirie's  chair  you  '11  sit,  I  say, 

The  lowest  seat  o  hell ; 
If  ye  do  not  amend  your  ways, 
It 's  there  that  ye  must  dweU.' 

32  Wi  that  he  vanishd  frae  her  sight, 

Wi  the  twinkling  o  an  eye  ; 
Naething  mair  the  lady  saw 
But  the  gloomy  clouds  and  sky. 


Buchan's  MSS,  II,  95. 

1  Once  there  was  a  jolly  hind  squire 

Appeard  in  a  lady's  ha. 
And  aye  she  walked  up  and  down, 
Looking  oer  her  castle  wa. 

2  '  What  is  your  wills  wi  me,  kind  sir  ? 

What  is  your  wiUs  wi  me  ? ' 
*  My  wills  are  [not]  sma  wi  thee,  lady, 
My  wills  are  [not]  sma  wi  thee. 

3  '  For  here  I  stand  a  courtier, 

And  a  corn-tier  come  to  thee. 
And  if  ye  will  not  grant  me  your  love, 
For  your  sake  I  wiU  die.' 

4  '  If  you  die  for  my  sake,'  she  says, 

'  Few  for  you  will  make  moan  ; 
Many  better  's  died  for  my  sake, 
Their  graves  are  growing  green. 

6  '  You  appear  to  be  some  false  young  man, 
You  wear  your  hat  so  wide ; 
You  appear  to  be  some  false  young  man, 
You  wear  your  boots  so  side. 

6  '  An  asking,  asking,  sir,'  she  said, 

'  An  asking  ye  '11  grant  me  : ' 
'  Ask  on,  ask  on,  lady,'  he  said, 
'  What  may  your  asking  be  ? ' 

7  *  What 's  the  first  thing  in  flower,'  she  said, 

'  That  springs  in  mire  or  dale  ? 
What 's  the  next  bird  that  sings,'  she  says, 

'  Unto  the  nightingale  ? 
Or  what  is  the  finest  thing,'  she  says, 

*  That  king  or  queen  can  wile  ?  * 


8  '  The  primrose  is  the  first  in  flower 

That  springs  in  mire  or  dale  ; 
The  thristle-throat  is  the  next  that  sings 

Unto  the  nightingale  ; 
And  yellow  gold  is  the  finest  thing 

That  king  or  queen  can  wUe. 

9  '  You  have  asked  many  questions,  lady, 

I  've  you  as  many  told  ; ' 
'  But  how  many  pennies  round 
Make  a  hundred  pounds  in  gold  ? 

10  '  How  many  small  fishes 

Do  swim  the  salt  seas  round  ? 
Or  what 's  the  seemliest  sight  you  'U  see 
Into  a  May  morning  ? 


11  '  There  's  ale  into  the  birken  scale. 

Wine  in  the  horn  green  ; 
There  's  gold  in  the  king's  banner 
When  he  is  fighting  keen.' 

12  '  Yon  may  be  my  match,  kind  sir,'  she  said, 

'  You  may  be  my  match  and  more ; 
There  neer  was  one  came  such  a  length 
With  my  father's  heir  before. 

13  '  My  father  's  lord  of  nine  castles. 

No  body  heir  but  me.' 
'  Your  father 's  lord  of  nine  castles, 
Your  mother 's  lady  of  three  ; 

14  '  Your  father 's  heir  of  nine  castles. 

And  you  are  heir  to  three  ; 
For  I  am  William,  thy  ae  brother, 
That  died  beyond  the  sea.' 


430 


47.    PROUD   LADY  MARGAKET 


15  '  If  ye  be  William,  ray  ae  brother, 

This  night,  0  well  is  me ! 
If  ye  be  William,  my  ae  brother, 
This  night  I  '11  go  with  thee.' 

16  '  For  no,  for  no,  jelly  Janet,'  he  says, 

'  For  no,  that  cannot  be  ; 
You  've  oer  foul  feet  and  Ul  washen  hands 
To  be  in  my  company. 

17  '  For  the  wee  wee  worms  are  my  bedfellows, 

And  the  cold  clay  is  my  sheet. 
And  the  higher  that  the  winds  do  blow. 
The  sounder  I  do  sleep. 

18  '  Leave  off  your  pride,  jelly  Janet,'  he  says, 

'  Use  it  not  any  more ; 


Or  when  you  come  where  I  have  been 
You  will  repent  it  sore. 

19  '  When  you  go  in  at  yon  church  door. 

The  red  gold  on  your  hair. 
More  will  look  at  your  yellow  locks 
Than  look  on  the  Lord's  prayer. 

20  '  When  you  go  in  at  yon  church  door, 

The  red  gold  on  your  crown  ; 
When  you  come  where  I  have  been, 
You  '11  wear  it  laigher  down.' 

21  The  jolly  hind  squire,  he  went  away 

In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye, 
Left  the  lady  sorrowful  behind, 
With  many  bitter  cry. 


Harris's  MS.,  fol.  7,  No  3.    From  Mrs  Harris's  recitation. 

1  Theke  cam  a  knicht  to  Archerdale, 

His  steed  was  winder  sma, 

An  there  he  spied  a  lady  bricht, 

Luikin  owre  her  castle  wa. 

2  '  Ye  dinnaseem  a  gentle  knicht, 

Though  on  horseback  ye  do  ride ; 
Ye  seem  to  be  some  sutor's  son. 
Your  butes  they  are  sae  wide.' 

3  '  Ye  dinna  seem  a  lady  gay, 

Though  ye  be  bound  wi  pride ; 
Else  I  'd  gane  bye  your  father's  gate 
But  either  taunt  or  gibe.' 

4  He  turned  aboot  his  hie  horse  head. 

An  awa  he  was  boun  to  ride, 
But  neatly  wi  her  mouth  she  spak : 
Oh  bide,  fine  squire,  oh  bide. 

5  '  Bide,  oh  bide,  ye  hindy  squire. 

Tell  me  mair  o  your  tale  ; 
Tell  me  some  o  that  wondrous  lied 
Ye  've  learnt  in  Archerdale. 

6  '  What  gaes  in  a  speal  ?  '  she  said, 

'  What  in  a  horn  green  ? 
An  what  gaes  on  a  lady's  head. 
Whan  it  is  washen  clean  ? ' 


7  '  Ale  gaes  in  a  speal,'  he  said, 

'  Wine  in  a  horn  green  ; 
An  silk  gaes  on  a  lady's  head, 
Whan  it  is  washen  clean.' 

8  Aboot  he  turned  his  hie  horse  head. 

An  awa  he  was  boun  to  ride. 
When  neatly  wi  her  mouth  she  spak : 
Oh  bide,  fine  squire,  oh  bide. 

9  '  Bide,  oh  bide,  ye  hindy  squire, 

Tell  me  mair  o  your  tale  ; 
Tell  me  some  o  that  unco  lied 
You  've  learnt  in  Archerdale. 

10  '  Ye  are  as  like  my  ae  brither 

As  ever  I  did  see  ; 
But  he  's  been  buried  in  yon  kirkyaird 
It 's  mair  than  years  is  three.' 

11  'I  am  as  like  your  ae  brither 

As  ever  ye  did  see  ; 
But  I  canna  get  peace  into  my  grave, 
A'  for  the  pride  o  thee. 

12  '  Leave  pride,  Janet,  leave  pride,  Janet, 

Leave  pride  an  vanitie  ; 
If  ye  come  the  roads  that  I  hae  come, 
Sair  warned  will  ye  be. 

13  '  Ye  come  in  by  yonder  kirk 

Wi  the  goud  preens  in  your  sleeve ; 


4T.    PROUD  LADY  MARGARET 


431 


When  you  're  bracht  hame  to  yon  kirkyaird, 
You  '11  gie  them  a'  thier  leave. 

14  '  Ye  come  in  to  yonder  kirk 

Wi  the  goud  plaits  in  your  hair ; 
When  you  're  bracht  hame  to  yon  kirkyaird, 
You  will  them  a'  forbear.' 


15  He  got  her  in  her  mither's  hour, 
Puttin  goud  plaits  in  her  hair  ; 
He  left  her  in  her  father's  gairden, 
Mournin  her  sins  sae  sair. 


E 


Alex.  Laing,  Ancient  Ballads  and  Songa,  etc.,  etc.,  from 
the  recitation  of  old  people.    Never  published.     1829.    P.  6. 

1  Fair  Mabgret  was  a  young  ladye, 

An  come  of  high  degree  ; 
Fair  Margret  was  a  young  ladye, 
An  proud  as  proud  coud  be. 

2  Fair  Margret  was  a  rich  ladye, 

The  king's  cousin  was  she  ; 
Fair  Margaret  was  a  rich  ladye. 
An  vain  as  vain  coud  be. 

3  She  war'd  her  wealth  on  the  gay  cleedin 

That  comes  frae  yont  the  sea. 
She  spent  her  time  frae  morning  till  night 
Adorning  her  fair  bodye. 

4  Ae  night  she  sate  in  her  stately  ha, 

Kaimin  her  yellow  hair, 
When  in  there  cum  like  a  gentle  knight. 
An  a  white  scarf  he  did  wear. 

5  '  0  what 's  your  will  wi  me,  sir  knight, 

O  what 's  your  will  wi  me  ? 
You  're  the  likest  to  my  ae  brother 
That  ever  I  did  see. 

6  '  You  're  the  likest  to  my  ae  brother 

That  ever  I  hae  seen, 


But  he  's  buried  in  Dunfermline  kirk, 
A  month  an  mair  bygane.' 

7  *  I  'm  the  likest  to  your  ae  brother 

That  ever  ye  did  see. 
But  I  canna  get  rest  into  my  grave, 
A'  for  the  pride  of  thee. 

8  '  Leave  pride,  Margret,  leave  pride,  Margret, 

Leave  pride  an  vanity ; 
Ere  ye  see  the  sights  that  I  hae  seen, 
Sair  altered  ye  maun  be. 

9  '  O  ye  come  in  at  the  kirk-door 

Wi  the  gowd  plaits  in  your  hair ; 
But  wud  ye  see  what  I  hae  seen, 
Ye  maun  them  a'  forbear. 

10  '  0  ye  come  in  at  the  kirk-door 

Wi  the  gowd  prins  i  your  sleeve  ; 
But  wad  ye  see  what  I  hae  seen. 
Ye  maun  gie  them  a'  their  leave. 

11  '  Leave  pride,  Margret,  leave  pride,  Margret, 

Leave  pride  an  vanity  ; 
Ere  ye  see  the  sights  that  I  hae  seen, 
Sair  altered  ye  maun  be.' 

12  He  got  her  in  her  stately  ha, 

Kaimin  her  yellow  hair. 
He  left  her  on  her  sick  sick  bed, 
Sheding  the  saut  saut  tear. 


B  15'-*,  16*'  ^  C  9«'*,  10'- 2  are  rightlij  ansivers,  not 
questions :  cf.  A  9,  10.    D  6  furnishes  the  ques- 
tion answered  in  B  17. 
B.   b.  Motherwell  begins  at  st.  25. 
2V.  gowd  band. 
28S  291.  kirk.     301  owergangs. 


E. 


32''.  In  the.     32«.  And  naething. 
Kind  Squire  in  the  title,  and  kind  in  1*, 
21-' ;  I  stippose  by  mistake  of  my  copyist. 
16'.  You  're  (?). 
17'.  the  clay  cold. 
8»,  11«.  E'er. 


432 


48.    "XOUUa  ANDBEW 


48 
YOUNG   ANDREW 


Percy  MS.,  p.  292.     Hales  and  Furnivall,  II,  328. 


'  Young  Andrew  '  is  known  only  from  the 
Percy  manuscript.  The  story  recalls  both 
'  Lady  Isabel  and  the  Elf-Knight,'  No  4,  and 
'  The  Fair  Flower  of  Northumberland,'  No  9. 
The  lady,  Helen,  25^  is  bidden  to  take,  and 
does  take,  gold  with  her  in  stanzas  5-7,  as  in 
No  4,  English  E  2,  3,  D  7,  Danish  A  12,  E  7, 
9, 1  5,  L  5,  6,  and  nearly  all  the  Polish  copies, 
and  again  in  No  9,  A  14.  She  is  stripped  of 
her  clothes  and  head-gear  in  8-17,  as  in  No  4, 
English  C-E,  German  G,  H,  and  many  of  the 
Polish  versions.  These  are  destined  by  Young 
Andrew  for  his  lady  ("  that  dwells  so  far  in  a 
strange  country")  in  10, 12, 14,  as  by  Ulinger 
for  his  sister,  and  by  Adelger  for  his  mother, 
in  German  G  18,  H  15.  In  15  the  lady  en- 
treats Young  Andrew  to  leave  her  her  smock  ; 
80  in  No  4,  Polish  L  8,  "  You  brought  me 
from  home  in  a  green  gown  ;  take  me  back  in  a 
shift  of  tow,"  and  R  13,  "  You  took  me  away 
in  red  satin  ;  let   me  go  back  at  least  in  a 


smock."  18  has  the  choice  between  dying 
and  going  home  again  which  is  presented  in 
'  Lady  Isabel,'  Polish  AA  4,  H  10,  R  11,  and 
implied  in  '  The  Fair  Flower  of  Northumber- 
land,' D  2-5  ;  in  A  25  of  this  last  the  choice  is 
between  dying  and  being  a  paramour.  In  20, 
21,  the  lady  says,  "  If  my  father  ever  catches 
you,  you  're  sure  to  flower  a  gallows-tree," 
etc. ;  in  No  4,  Polish  J  5,  "  If  God  would 
grant  me  to  reach  the  other  bank,  you  know, 
wretch,  what  death  you  would  die."  The 
father  is  unrelenting  in  this  ballad,  v.  26,  and 
receives  his  daughter  with  severity  in  '  The 
Fair  Flower  of  Northumberland,'  B  13,  C  13. 
The  conclusion  of  '  Young  Andrew '  is  muti- 
lated and  hard  to  make  out.  He  seems  to 
have  been  pursued  and  caught,  as  John  is 
in  the  Polish  ballads,  O,  P,  T,  etc.,  of  No  4. 
Why  he  was  not  promptly  disposed  of,  and 
how  the  wolf  comes  into  the  story,  will  proba- 
bly never  be  known. 


1  As  I  was  cast  in  my  £Brst  sleepe, 

A  dreadffull  draught  in  my  mind  I  drew, 
Ffor  I  was  dreamed  of  a  yong  man, 
Some  men  called  him  yonge  Andrew. 

2  The  moone  shone  bright,  and  itt  cast  a  ffayre 

light, 
Sayes  shee,  Welcome,  my  honey,  my  hart, 

and  my  sweete ! 
For  I  haue  loued  thee  this  seuen  long  yeere. 
And  our  chance  itt  was  wee  cold  neuer  meete. 


4  Saies,   Now,   good   sir,   you   haue    had  yowr 

wiU, 
You  can  demand  no  more  of  mee  ; 
Good  sir,  remember  what  you  said  before, 
And  goe  to  the  church  and  marry  mee. 

5  '  Ff aire  maid,  I  cannott  doe  as  I  wold  ;   ■ 

Goe  home  and  fett  thy  fathers  redd  gold. 
And    I'le    goe   to   the    church   and   marry 
thee. 


3  Then  he  tooke  her  in  his  armes  two, 

And  kissed  her  both  cheeke  and  chin, 
And  twise  or  thrise  he  pleased  this  may 
Before  they  tow  did  part  in  twinn. 


6  This  ladye  is  gone  to  her  ffathers  haU, 

And  well  she  knew  where  his  red  gold  lay, 
And  counted  fforth  five  hundred  pound, 
Besides  all  other  iuells  and  chaines  : 


48.    YOUNG  ANDREW 


433 


7  And  brought  itt  all  to  younge  Andrew, 

Itt  was  well  counted  vpon  his  knee ; 
Then  he  tooke  her  by  the  lillye  white  hand, 
And  led  her  vp  to  an  hill  soe  hye. 

8  Shee  had  vpon  a  gowne  of  blacke  veluett, 

(A  pittyffull  sight  after  yee  shall  see :) 
'  Put  of  thy  clothes,  bonny  wenche,'  he  sayes, 
'  For  noe  fEoote  further   thoust   gang  with 
mee.' 

9  But  then  shee  put  of  her  gowne  of  veluett. 

With  many  a  salt  teare  from  her  eye, 
And  in  a  kirtle  of  ffine  breaden  silke 
Shee  stood  beffore  young  Andrews  eye. 

10  Sais,  0  put  off  thy  kirtle  of  silke, 

Ffor  some  and  all  shall  goe  with  mee  ; 
And  to  my  owne  lady  I  must  itt  beare, 
Who  I  must  needs  loue  better  then  thee. 

11  Then  shee  put  of  her  kirtle  of  silke, 

With    many    a   salt   teare    still   ffrom   her 
eye; 
In  a  peticoate  of  Scarlett  redd 

Shee  stood  before  young  Andrewes  eye. 

12  Sales,  0  put  of  thy  peticoate. 

For  some  and  all  of  itt  shall  goe  with  mee  ; 
And  to  my  owne  lady  I  will  itt  beare, 

WAich  dwells  soe  ffarr  in  a  strange  coun- 
trye 

13  But  then  shee  put  of  her  peticoate. 

With  many  a  salt  teare  still  from  her  eye, 
And  in  a  smocke  of  braue  white  silke 
Shee  stood  before  young  Andrews  eye. 

14  Sales,  0  put  of  thy  smocke  of  silke. 

For  some  and  all  shall  goe  with  mee  ; 
Vnto  my  owne  ladye  I  will  itt  beare, 

That  dwells  soe   ffarr  in  a  strange   coun- 
trye. 

15  Sayes,  0  remember,  young  Andrew, 

Once  of  a  woman  you  were  borne  ; 
And  ffor  that  birth  that  Marye  bore, 
I  pray  you  let  my  smocke  be  vpon ! 


17  But  then  shee  put  of  her  head-geere  ffine ; 

Shee  hadd  billaments  worth  a  hundred  pound ; 
The   hayre    t}iat  was  vpon   this  bony  wench 
head 
Couered  her  bodye  downe  to  the  ground. 

18  Then  he  pulled  forth  a  Scottish  brand. 

And  held  itt  there  in  his  owne  right  hand ; 
Sales,  Whether  wilt  thou  dye  vpon  my  swords 
point,  ladye. 
Or  thow  wilt  goe  naked  home  againe  ? 

19  '  Liffe  is  sweet,'  then,  '  sir,'  said  shee, 

'  Therfore  I  pray  you  leaue  mee  with  mine  ; 
Before  I  wold  dye  on  yowr  swords  point, 
I  had  rather  goe  naked  home  againe. 

20  '  My   ffather,'    shee   sayes,   '  is   a   right   good 

erle 
As  any  remaines  in  his  countrye ; 
If  euer  he  doe  yottr  body  take, 

YoM  'r  sure  to  Slower  a  gallow  tree. 

21  '  And  I  haue  seuen  brethren,'  shee  sayes, 

'  And  they  are  all  hardy  men  and  bold  ; 
Giff  euer  th(5  doe  your  body  take, 

You  must  neuer  gang  quicke  ouer  the  mold.' 

22  *  If  yoMr  ffather  be  a  right  good  erle 

As  any  remaines  in  his  owne  countrye. 
Tush !  he  shall  neuer  ray  body  take, 
I'le  gang  soe  ffast  ouer  the  sea. 

23  '  If  you  haue  seuen  brethren,'  he  sayes, 

'  If  they  be  neuer  soe  hardy  or  bold, 
Tush  !  they  shall  neuer  my  body  take, 
I'le  gang  soe  ffast  into  the  Scottish  mold.' 

24  Now  this  ladye  is  gone  to  her  fathers  hall. 

When  euery  body  their  rest  did  take  ; 
But  the  Erie  wAich  was  her  ffather 

Lay  waken  for  his  deere  daughters  sake. 

25  *  But  who  is  that,'  her  ffather  can  say, 

'  That  soe  priuilye  knowes  the  pinn  ?  ' 
'  It 's  HeUen ,  yowr  owne  deere  daughter,  ffar 
ther, 
I  pray  you  rise  and  lett  me  in.' 


16  '  Yes,  ffayre  ladye,  I  know  itt  well,  26 

Once  of  a  woman  I  was  borne  ; 
Yett  ffor  noe  birth  that  Mary  bore. 

Thy  smocke  shall  not  be  left  here  vpon.' 

55 


'  Noe,  by  my  hood  ! '  qwoth  her  ffather  then, 
'  My  [house]  thoust  neuer  come  within. 
Without  I  had  my  red  gold  againe.' 


434 


48.    YOUNG  ANDKEW 


27  '  Nay,  joiir  gold  is  gone,  ffather  ! '  said  shee, 

'  Then  naked  thou  came  into  this  world, 
And  naked  thou  shalt  returne  againe.' 

28  '  Nay !  God  fforgaue  his  death,  father,'  shee 

sayes, 
'  And  see  I  hope  you  will  doe  mee  ; ' 
'  Away,  away,  thou  cursed  woman, 

I  pray  God  an  ill  death  thou  may  dye ! ' 

29  Shee  stood  soe  long  quacking  on  the  ground 

Till  her  hart  itt  hurst  in  three  ; 
And  then  shee  ffell  dead  downe  in  a  swoond, 
And  this  was  the  end  of  this  bonny  ladye. 

30  Ithe  morning,  when  her  ffather  gott  vpp, 

A  pittyffull  sight  there  he  might  see  ; 
His    owne  deere  daughter  was  dead,  \^ithout 
clothes. 
The  teares  they  trickeled  fast  ffrom  his  eye. 


31 


Sais,  Fye  of  gold,  and  ffye  of  ffee  ! 
For  I  sett  soe  much  by  my  red  gold 

That  now  itt  hath  lost  both  my  daughter 
and  mee ! ' 


32 


But  after  tliis  time  he  neere  dought  good 
day, 


But  as  flowers  doth  fade  in  the  frost, 
Soe  he  did  wast  and  weare  away. 

33  But  let  vs  leaue  talking  of  this  ladye. 

And  talke  some  more  of  young  Andrew  ; 
Ffor  ffalse  he  was  to  this  bonny  ladye. 
More  pitty  tliat  he  had  not  beene  true. 

34  He  was  not  gone  a  mile  into  the  wild  forrest. 

Or  halfe  a  mile  into  the  hart  of  Wales, 
But  there  they  cought  him  by  such  a  braue 
wyle 
That  bee  must  come  to  tell  noe  more  tales. 


oO  •  •  •  >  • 

Ffull  soone  a  wolfe  did  of  him  smell. 
And  shee  came  roaring  like  a  beare, 
And  gaping  like  a  ffeend  of  hell. 

36  Soe  they  ffought  together  like  two  lyons. 

And  fire  betweene  them  two  glashet  out ; 
The  raught  eche  other  such  a  great  rappe, 
That  there  young  Andrew  was  slaine,  well  I 
wott. 

37  But  now  young  Andrew  he  is  dead. 

But  he  was  neuer  buryed  vnder  mold, 
For  ther  as  the  wolfe  devoured  him. 
There  lyes  aU  this  great  erles  gold. 


1'.  of  one.     3'. 

7\  to  one.     17' 
191.  My  liffe. 
25^  that  pinn. 


2»f,  3'.°. 
,  100". 


30'.  any  follows  without,  but  is  crossed  out. 
30*.  they  teares.     33*.  itt  had. 
Arabic  numbers  are   in  several   cases   ex- 
pressed  in  letters. 


49.    THE  TWA  BROTHERS 


435 


49 
THE   TWA   BROTHERS 


A.  Sharpe's  Ballad  Book,  p.  56,  No  19. 

B.  'The  Cruel  Brother,'  Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  259. 
From  the  recitation  of  Mrs  McCormick. 

C.  '  The  Twa  Brithers,'  Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  649. 
From  the  recitation  of  Mrs  Cunningham. 

D.  '  The  Twa  Brothers,  or,  The  Wood  o  Warslin,' 
Jamieson's  Popular  Ballads,  I,  59.  From  the  recita- 
tion of  Mrs  Arrott. 


E.  '  The  Twa  Brothers,'  Motherwell's  Minstrelsy, 
p.  60. 

F.  '  The  Two  Brothers,'  Buchan's  MSS,  I,  57;  Moth- 
erwell's MS.,  p.  662. 

G.  a.  '  John  and  William,'  taken  down  from  the  sing- 
ing of  little  girls  in  South  Boston,  b.  From  a  child 
in  New  York.  Both  communicated  by  Mr  W.  W. 
Newell. 


All  the  Scottish  versions  were  obtained 
within  the  first  third  of  this  century,  and 
since  then  no  others  have  been  heard  of.  It 
is  interesting  to  find  tlie  ballad  still  in  the 
mouths  of  children  in  American  cities,  —  in 
the  mouths  of  the  poorest,  whose  heritage 
these  old  things  are.*  The  American  versions, 
though  greatly  damaged,  preserve  the  names 
John  and  William,  which  all  the  other  copies 
have. 

B  and  C  are  considerably  corrupted.  It 
need  hardly  be  mentioned  that  the  age  of  the 
boys  in  the  first  two  stanzas  of  B  does  not  suit 
the  story.  According  to  C  8,  15,  the  mother 
had  cursed  John,  before  he  left  home,  with  a 
wish  that  he  might  never  return  ;  and  in  C  9, 
John  sends  word  to  his  true-love  that  he  is  in 
his  grave  for  her  dear  sake  alone.  These  points 
seem  to  have  been  taken  from  some  copy  of 
'  Willie  and  May  Margaret,'  or  '  The  Drowned 
Lovers.'  The  conclusion  of  both  B  and  C  be- 
longs to  '  Sweet  William's  Ghost.'  C  18  may 
be  corrected  by  B  10,  though  there  is  an  ab- 
surd jumble  of  pipes  and  harp  in  the  latter. 
The  harp,  in  a  deft  hand,  effects  like  wonders 
in  many  a  ballad :  e.  g.,  '  Harpens  Kraft,' 
Grundtvig,  II,  65,  No  40 ;  even  a  pipe  in  C 
14-16  of  the  same. 

*  Mr  Newell  says :  "  I  have  heard  it  sung  at  a  picnic,  by 
a  whole  earful  of  little  girls.  The  melody  is  pretty.  These 
children  were  of  the  poorest  class." 


D,  E,  P,  G  supplement  the  story  with  more 
or  less  of  the  ballad  of  '  Edward  : '  see  p.  168. 

Jamieson  inquires  for  this  ballad  in  the 
Scots  Magazine  for  October,  1803,  p.  701,  at 
which  time  he  had  only  the  first  stanza  and 
the  first  half  of  the  third.  He  fills  out  the  im- 
perfect stanza  nearly  as  in  the  copy  which  he 
afterwards  printed : 

But  out  an  Willie  's  taen  his  knife, 
And  did  his  brother  slay. 

Of  the  five  other  Scottish  versions,  all  ex- 
cept B  make  the  deadly  wound  to  be  the  re- 
sult of  accident,  and  this  is,  in  Motherwell's 
view,  a  point  essential.  The  other  reading, 
he  says,  is  at  variance  with  the  rest  of  the 
story,  and  "  sweeps  away  the  deep  impression 
this  simple  ballad  would  otherwise  have  made 
upon  the  feelings :  for  it  is  almost  unnecessary 
to  mention  that  its  touching  interest  is  made 
to  centre  in  the  boundless  sorrow  and  cure- 
less remorse  of  him  who  had  been  the  uninten- 
tional cause  of  his  brother's  death,  and  in  the 
solicitude  which  that  high-minded  and  gen- 
erous spirit  expresses,  even  in  the  last  agonies 
of  nature,  for  the  safety  and  fortunes  of  the 
truly  wretched  and  unhappy  survivor."  But 
the  generosity  of  the  dying  man  is  plainly 
greater  if  his  brother  has  killed  him  in  an  out- 
burst of  passion  ;  and  what  is  gained  this  way 


^ 


436 


49.     THE   TWA   BROTHERS 


V 


will  fully  offset  the  loss,  if  any,  which  comes 
from  the  fratricide  having  cause  for  "  cureless 
remorse  "  as  well  as  boundless  sorrow.  Moth- 
erwell's criticism,  in  fact,  is  not  quite  intel- 
ligible.    (Minstrelsy,  p.  61.) 

The  variation  in  the  story  is  the  same  as 
that  between  the  English  '  Cruel  Brother '  and 
the  German  '  Graf  Friedrich  :  '  in  the  former 
the  bride  is  killed  by  her  offended  brother; 
in  the  latter  it  is  the  bridegroom's  sword  slip- 
ping from  its  sheath  that  inflicts  the  mortal 
hurt. 

Motherwell  was  inclined  to  believe,  and 
Kirkpatrick  Sharpe  was  convinced,  that  this 
ballad  was  founded  upon  an  event  that  hap- 
pened near  Edinburgh  as  late  as  1689,  that 
of  one  of  the  Somervilles  having  been  killed 
by  his  brother's  pistol  accidentally  going  off. 
Sharpe  afterward  found  a  case  of  a  boy  of 
thirteen  killing  a  young  brother  in  anger  at 
having  his  hair  pulled.  This  most  melancholy 
story,  the  particulars  of  which  are  given  in  the 
last  edition  of  the  Ballad  Book,  p.  130,  note 
xix,  dates  nearly  a  hundred  years  later,  1682. 
Only  the  briefest  mention  need  be  made  of 
these  unusually  gratuitous  surmises. 

Kirkland,  in  D,  was  probably  suggested  by 
the  kirkyard  of  other  versions,  assisted,  pos- 
sibly, by  a  reminiscence  of  the  Kirkley  in 
'  Robin  Hood's  Death  and  Burial ; '  for  it  will 
be  observed  that  stanzas  8,  9  of  D  come  pretty 
near  to  those  in  which  Robin  Hood  gives  direc- 
tion for  his  grave ;  F  9,  10,  B  6,  6  less  near.* 

Cunningham  has  entitled  a  romance  of  his, 
upon  the  theme  of  '  The  Two  Brothers'  (which, 
once  more,  he  ventures  to  print  nearly  in  the 
state  in  which  he  once  had  the  pleasure  of 
hearing  it  sung),  '  Fair  Annie  of  Kirkland :  ' 
Songs  of  Scotland,  H,  16. 

The  very  pathetic  passage  in  which  the 
dying  youth  directs  that  father,  mother,  and 
sister  shall  be  kept  in  ignorance  of  his  death, 
and  then,  feeling  how  vain  the  attempt  to 
conceal  the  fact  from  his  true-love  will  be, 
bids  that  she  be  informed  that  he  is  in  his 
grave  and  will  never  come  back,  is   too  truly 

*  "  The  house  of  Inchmurry,  formerly  called  Kirkland, 
was  built  of  old  by  the  abbot  of  Holyrood-house  for  his  ac- 
commodation when  he  came  to  that  country,  and  was  for- 


a  touch  of  nature  to  be  found  only  here. 
Something  similar  occurs  in  '  Mary  Hamil- 
ton,' where,  however,  the  circumstances  are 
very  different : 

'  And  here  's  to  the  jolly  sailor  lad 

That  sails  upon  the  faeme  ! 
And  let  not  my  father  nor  mother  get  wit 

But  that  I  shall  come  again. 

'  And  here  's  to  the  jolly  sailor  lad 

That  sails  upon  the  sea  ! 
But  let  not  my  father  nor  mother  get  wit 

O  the  death  that  I  maun  dee.' 

In  a  fine  Norse  ballad  (see '  Brown  Robyn's 
Confession,'  further  on)  a  man  who  is  to  be 
thrown  overboard  to  save  a  ship  takes  his 
leave  of  the  world  with  these  words  : 

'  If  any  of  you  should  get  back  to  land, 
And  my  foster-mother  ask  for  me, 

Tell  her  I  'm  serving  in  the  king's  court, 
And  living  right  merrily. 

'  If  any  of  you  should  get  back  to  land, 

And  my  true-love  ask  for  me, 
Bid  her  to  marry  another  man, 

For  I  am  under  the  sea.' 

A  baron,  who  has  been  mortally  wounded 
in  a  duel,  gives  this  charge  to  his  servant : 

'  Faites  mes  compliments  h  ma  femme, 
Mais  ne  lui  dites  pas  que  j'ai  ete  tue ; 
Mais  dites  lui  que  je  serai  aU6  a  Paris, 
Pour  saluer  le  roi  Louis. 

'  Dites  que  je  serai  alle  h.  Paris, 
Pour  saluer  le  roi  Louis, 
Et  que  j'ai  achet6  un  nouveau  cheval, 
Le  petit  coeur  de  mon  cheval  etait  trop  gai.' 
(Le  Seigneur  de  Rosmadec,  Luzel,  I, 


Mh  m-) 


In  like  manner  a  dying  klepht :  "  If  our 
comrades  ask  about  me,  tell  them  not  that  I 
have  died :  say  only  that  I  have  married  in 
strange  lands  ;  have  taken  the  flat  stone  for 
mother-in-law,  the  black  earth  for  my  wife, 
the  black  worms  for  brothers-in-law."    Zam- 

merly  the  minister's  manse."  Statistical  Account  of  Scot- 
land, XIII,  506,  cited  by  Jamieson,  I,  62.  There  are  still 
three  or  four  Kirklands  in  Scotland  and  the  north  of  England. 


49.    THE  TWA   BROTHERS 


437 


( 


belios,  p.  606,  No  11,  Faurlel,  I,  51,  Passow, 
p.  118,  No  152  ;  and  again,  Zarabelios,  p.  672, 
No  94,  Passow,  p.  113,  No  146.  In  the  Dan- 
ish '  Elveskud,'  Grundtvig,  II,  116,  No  47,  B 
18,  Ole  would  simply  have  the  tragic  truth 
kept  from  his  bride  : 

'  Hearken,  Sir  Ole,  of  mickle  pride. 
How  shall  I  answer  thy  young  bride  ? ' 

'  You  must  say  I  am  gone  to  the  wood, 

To  prove  horse  and  hounds,  if  tliey  be  good.' 

Such  questions  and  answers  as  we  have  in 
D  20,  E  17,  P  24,  are  of  the  commonest  oc- 
currence in  popular  poetry,  and  not  unknown 
to  the  poetry  of  art.  Ballads  of  the  '  Ed- 
ward '  class  end  generally  or  always  in  this 
way  :  see  p.  168.  We  have  again  the  partic- 
ular question  and  answer  which  occur  here  in 
'  Lizie  Wan '  and  in  one  version  of  '  The 
Trooper  and  Fair  Maid,'  Jamieson's  Popular 
Ballads,  II,  158.  The  question  may  be  :  When 
will  you  come  back?  When  shall  you  cease  to 
love  me  ?  When  shall  we  be  married  ?  etc. ; 
and  the  answer :  When  apple-trees  grow  in  the 
seas  ;  when  fishes  fly  and  seas  gang  dry  ;  when 
all  streams  run  together;  when  all  swift 
streams  are  still ;  when  it  snows  roses  and 
rains  wine  ;  when  all  grass  is  rue  ;  when  the 
nightingale  sings  on  the  sea  and  the  cuckoo  is 
heard  in  winter  ;  when  poplars  bear  cherries 
and  oaks  roses  ;  when  feathers  sink  and  stones 
swim ;  when  sand  sown  on  a  stone  gei'mi- 
nates,  etc.,  etc.  See  Virgil,  Eel.  i,  59-63  ;  Ovid, 
Met.  xiii,  324-27 ;  Wolf,  Ueber  die  Lais,  p. 
433 ;  '  Svend  Vonved,'  Grundtvig,  I,  240,  No 
18,  A,  D ;  Buehan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of 
Scotland,  '  Lord  Jamie  Douglas,'  I,  232  f, 
Motherwell's  Minstrelsy,  Appendix,  p.  vii, 
Kinloch,  Finlay,  etc. ;  Pills  to  Purge  Melan- 
choly, V,  37  ;  '  Der  verwundete  Knabe,'  '  Die 
verwundete  Dame,'  Mittler,  Nos  49-53,  Erk's 
Liederhort,  pp  111-115,  Wunderhorn,  IV, 
858-63,  Longard,  p.  39,  No  18,  Prohle,  Welt. 
u.  geist.  Volkslieder,  p.  12,  No  6  ;  Meinert, 
pp  28,  60,  73;  Uhland,  p.  127,  No  65;  Wun- 


derhorn (1857),  II,  223,  Reifferscheid,  p.  23, 
Liederhort,  p.  345,  Erk,  Neue  Sammlung,  ii, 
39,  Kretzschmer,  I,  143 ;  Zuccalmaglio,  pp 
103,  153,  595 ;  Peter,  Volksthumliches  aus 
Ost.-schlesien,  I,  274 ;  Ditfurth,  II,  9,  No  10 ; 
Fiedler,  p.  187  ;  Des  Turcken  Vassnacbtspiel, 
Tieck's  Deutsches  Theater,  I,  8 ;  Uhland,  Zur 
Geschichte  der  Dichtung,  III,  216  ff ;  Tigri, 
Canti  popolari  toscani  (I860),  pp  230-242, 
Nos  820,  822,  823,  832,  836-40,  857,  858, 
862,  868 ;  Visconti,  Saggio  dei  Canti  p.  della 
Provincia  di  Marritima  e  Campagna,  p.  21, 
No  18  ;  Nino,  Saggio  di  Canti  p.  sabinesi,  p. 
28  f,  p.  30  f ;  Pitrg,  Saggi  di  Critica  lettera- 
ria,  p.  25 ;  Braga,  Cantos  p.  do  Archipelago 
a^oriano,  p.  220  ;  Mockesch,  Romanische  Dich- 
tungen,  p.  6  f,  No  2  ;  Passow,  p.  273  f,  Nos 
387,  388;  B.  Schmidt,  Griechische  Miirchen, 
etc.,  p.  154,  No  10,  and  note,  p.  253  ;  Morosi, 
Studi  sui  Dialetti  greci  della  Terra  d'Otranto, 
p.  30,  Ixxv,  p.  32,  Ixxix ;  Pellegrini,  Canti  p. 
dei  Greci  di  Cargese,  p.  21 ;  De  Rada,  Rap- 
sodie  d'un  Poema  albanese,  p.  29 ;  Haupt  u. 
Schmaler,  Volkslieder  der  Wenden,  I,  76,  No 
47,  I,  182,  No  158,  I,  299,  No  300  ;  Altmann, 
Balalaika,  Russische  Volkslieder,  p.  233,  No 
184 ;  Golovatsky,  Narodnyya  Piesni  galitzskoy 
i  ugorskoy  Rusi,  II,  585,  No  18,  III,  i,  12,  No 
9  ;  Maximovitch,  Sbornik  ukrainskikh  Pyesen, 
p.  7,  No  1,  p.  107,  No  30 ;  Dozon,  Chansons 
p.  bulgares,  p.  283,  No  57 ;  Bodenstedt,  Die 
poetische  Ukraine,  p.  46,  No  14 ;  Jordan, 
Ueber  kleinrussische  Volkspoesie,  Blatter  fiir 
lit.  Unterhaltung,  1840,  No  252,  p.  1014 
(Uhland)  ;  Rhesa,  Ueber  litthauische  Volks- 
poesie, in  Beitrage  zur  Kunde  Preussens,  I, 
523 ;  Aigner,  Ungarische  Volksdichtungen, 
pp  147,  149 :  etc. 

A  is  trsfnslated  by  Grundtvig,  Engelske  og 
skotske  Folkeviser,  p.  168  ;  Afzelius,  III,  7 ; 
Grimm,  Drei  altschottische  Lieder,  p.  5 ; 
Talvi,  Charakteristik,  p.  567  ;  Rosa  Warrens, 
Schottische  V.  L.  der  Vorzeit,  p.  91.  Knortz, 
Schottische  Balladen,  No  4,  translates  Ay- 
toun,  I,  193. 


438 


49.    THE  TWA  BROTHERS 


Sharpe's  Biillad  Book,  p.  56,  No  19. 

1  There  were  twa  brethren  in  the  north, 

They  went  to  the  school  thegither  ; 
The  one  unto  the  other  said, 
Will  you  try  a  warsle  afore  ? 

2  They  warsled  up,  they  warsled  down. 

Till  Sir  John  fell  to  the  ground. 
And  there  was  a  knife  in  Sir  WUlie's  pouch, 
Gied  him  a  deadlie  wound. 

3  '  Oh  brither  dear,  take  me  on  your  back. 

Carry  me  to  yon  burn  clear, 
And  wasli  the  blood  from  off  my  wound. 
And  it  will  bleed  nae  mair.' 

4  He  took  him  up  upon  his  back, 

Carried  him  to  yon  burn  clear. 
And  washd  the  blood  from  off  his  wound, 
But  aye  it  bled  the  mair. 

6  '  Oh  brither  dear,  take  me  on  your  back, 
Carry  me  to  yon  kirk-yard. 
And  dig  a  grave  baith  wide  and  deep. 
And  lay  my  body  there.' 


6  He  's  taen  him  up  upon  his  back. 

Carried  him  to  yon  kirk-yard, 
And  dug  a  grave  baith  deep  and  wide, 
And  laid  his  body  there. 

7  '  But  what  will  I  say  to  my  father  dear, 

Gin  he  chance  to  say,  Willie,  whar  's  Jolm  ?  ' 
'  Oh  say  that  he 's  to  England  gone. 
To  buy  him  a  cask  of  wine.' 

8  '  And  what  wiU  I  say  to  my  mother  dear, 

Gin  she  chance  to  say,  WiUie,"whar  's  John  ? ' 
'  Oh  say  that  he  's  to  England  gone. 
To  buy  her  a  new  silk  gown.' 

9  '  And  what  will  I  say  to  my  sister  dear, 

Gin  she  chance  to  say,  Willie,  whar 's  John  ? ' 
'  Oh  say  that  he  's  to  England  gone. 
To  buy  her  a  wedding  ring.' 


10 


'  But  what  will  I  say  to  her  you  loe  dear, 
Gin  she  cry.  Why  tarries  my  John  ?  ' 

*  Oh  tell  her  I  lie  in  Kirk-land  fair, 
And  home  again  will  never  come.' 


B 


Motherwell's  MS.,  p.   259.    From   Widow  McCormick, 
January  19,  1825. 

1  There  was  two  little  boys  going  to  the  school. 

And  twa  little  boys  they  be, 
They  met  three  brothers  playing  at  the  ba, 
And  ladies  dansing  hey. 

2  '  It 's  whether  will  ye  play  at  the  ba,  brither. 

Or  else  throw  at  the  stone  ? ' 
'  I  am  too  little,  I  am  too  young, 
0  brother  let  me  alone.' 

3  He  pulled  out  a  little  penknife. 

That  was  baith  sharp  and  sma, 
He  gave  his  brother  a  deadly  wound 
That  was  deep,  long  and  sair. 

4  He  took  the  holland  sark  off  his  back, 

He  tore  it  frae  breast  to  gare. 
He  laid  it  to  the  bloody  wound. 
That  stiU  bled  mair  and  mair. 


5  '  It 's  take  me  on  your  back,  brother,'  he  says, 

'  And  carry  me  to  yon  kirk-yard. 
And  make  me  there  a  very  fine  grave. 
That  wUl  be  long  and  large. 

6  '  Lay  my  bible  at  my  head,'  he  says, 

'  My  chaiinter  at  my  feet. 
My  bow  and  arrows  by  my  side. 
And  soimdly  I  will  sleep. 

7  '  When  you  go  home,  brother,'  he  says, 

'  My  father  wiU  ask  for  me  ; 
You  may  tell  him  I  am  in  Sausslf  town, 
Learning  my  lesson  free. 

8  'When  you  go  home,  brother,'  he  says, 

'  My  mother  will  ask  for  me  ; 
You  may  tell  her  I  am  in  Sausaf  town. 
And  I  '11  come  home  merrily. 

9  '  When  you  go  home,  brother,'  he  says, 

'  Lady  Margaret  will  ask  for  me  ; 
You  may  tell  her  I  'm  dead  and  in  grave  laid, 
And  buried  in  Sausaff  toun.' 


49.    THE  TWA  BROTHERS 


439 


10  She  put  the  small  pipes  to  her  mouth, 

And  she  harped  both  far  and  near, 
Till  she  harped  the  small  birds  off  the  briers, 
And  her  true  love  out  of  the  grave. 

11  '  What 's  this  ?  what 's  this,  lady  Margaret  ? ' 

he  says, 
'  What 's  this  you  want  of  me  ? ' 


'  One  sweet  kiss  of  your  ruby  lips, 
That 's  all  I  want  of  thee.' 

12  '  My  lips  they  are  so  bitter,'  he  says, 
'  My  breath  it  is  so  strong, 
If  you  get  one  kiss  of  my  ruby  lips, 
Your  days  will  not  be  long.' 


Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  649. 
Cunningham,  Ayr. 


From   the  recitation  of  Mrs 


1  There  were  twa  brithers  at  ae  scale  ; 

As  they  were  coming  haine, 
Then  said  the  ane  imtil  the  other 
'  John,  will  ye  throw  the  stane  ?  ' 

2  '  I  will  not  throw  the  stane,  brither, 

I  will  not  play  at  the  ba  ; 
But  gin  ye  come  to  yonder  wood 
I  '11  warsle  you  a  fa.' 

3  The  firsten  fa  young  Johnie  got. 

It  brought  him  to  the  ground ; 
The  wee  pen-knife  in  Willie's  pocket 
Gied  him  a  deadly  wound. 

4  '  Tak  aff,  tak  aff  my  hoUand  sark, 

And  rive  it  frae  gore  to  gore. 
And  stap  it  in  my  bleeding  wounds. 
They  'U  aiblins  bleed  noe  more.' 

6  He  pouit  aff  his  holland  sark. 
And  rave  it  frae  gore  to  gore. 
And  stapt  it  in  hi.s  bleeding  wounds. 
But  ay  they  bled  the  more. 

6  '  O  brither,  tak  me  on  your  back. 

And  bear  me  hence  away. 
And  carry  me  to  Chester  kirk, 
And  lay  me  in  the  clay.' 

7  '  What  will  I  say  to  your  father, 

This  night  when  I  return  ?  ' 
'  Tell  him  I  'm  gane  to  Chester  sculc, 
And  tell  him  no  to  murn.' 

8  '  What  will  I  say  to  your  mother. 

This  niclit  whan  I  gae  hame  ?  ' 
'  She  wishd  afore  I  cam  awa 
That  I  might  neer  gae  hame.' 


9  '  What  will  I  say  to  your  true-love. 
This  nicht  when  I  gae  hame  ?  ' 
'  Tell  her  I  'm  dead  and  in  my  grave. 
For  her  dear  sake  alane.' 

10  He  took  him  upon  his  back 

And  bore  him  hence  away. 
And  carried  him  to  Chester  kirk. 
And  laid  him  in  the  clay. 

11  He  laid  him  in  the  cauld  cauld  clay, 

And  he  cuirt  him  wi  a  stane. 
And  he  's  awa  to  his  fathers  ha, 
Sae  dowilie  alane. 

12  '  You  're  welcome,  dear  son,'  he  said, 

'  You  're  welcome  hame  to  me ; 
But  what 's  come  o  your  brither  John, 
That  gade  awa  wi  thee  .'' ' 

13  '  Oh  he 's  awa  to  Chester  scule, 

A  scholar  he  '11  return  ; 
He  bade  me  tell  his  father  dear 
About  him  no  to  mum.' 

14  '  You  're  welcome  hame,  dear  son,'  she  said, 

'  You  're  welcome  hame  to  me  ; 
But  what 's  come  o  your  brither  John, 
That  gade  awa  wi  thee  ?  ' 

15  '  He  bade  me  tell  his  mother  dear, 

This  nicht  when  I  cam  hame, 
Ye  wisht  before  he  gade  awa. 
That  he  might  neer  return.' 

16  Then  next  came  up  his  true-love  dear. 

And  heavy  was  her  moan  ; 
'  You  're  welcome  hame,  dear  Will,'  she  said, 
'  But  whare  's  your  brither  John  ?  ' 

17  '  O  lady,  cease  your  trouble  now, 

0  cease  your  heavy  moan ; 
He  's  dead  and  in  the  cauld  cauld  clay. 
For  your  dear  sake  alone.' 


440 


49.    THE  TWA  BROTHERS 


18  She  ran  distraught,  she  wept,  she  sicht, 

She  wept  the  sma  hrids  frae  the  tree, 
She  wept  the  starns  adoun  frae  the  lift, 
She  wept  the  fish  out  o  the  sea. 

19  '  O  cease  your  weeping,  my  ain  true-love, 

Ye  hut  disturb  my  rest ; ' 


'  Is  that  my  ain  true  lover  John, 
The  man  that  I  loe  best  ?  ' 

20  '  'T  is  naething  but  my  ghaist,'  he  said, 
'  That 's  sent  to  comfort  thee  ; 
O  cease  your  weeping,  my  true-love, 
And  't  will  gie  peace  to  me.' 


Jamieson's  Popular  Ballads,  I,  59.    rrom  the  recitation 
of  Mrs  W.  Arrott,  of  Aberbrothick. 

1  '  0  WILL  ye  gae  to  tl-.e  school,  brother? 

Or  win  ye  gae  to  the  ba  ? 
Or  will  ye  gae  to  the  wood  a-warslin, 
To  see  whilk  o  's  maun  fa  ?  ' 

2  '  It 's  I  winna  gae  to  the  school,  brother, 

Nor  wiU  I  gae  to  the  ba ; 
But  I  will  gae  to  the  wood  a-warslin, 
And  it  is  you  maun  fa.' 

3  They  warstled  up,  they  warstled  down. 

The  lee-lang  simmer's  day ; 


4  '  O  lift  me  up  upon  your  back, 
Tak  me  to  yon  wall  fair  ; 
You  '11  wash  my  bluidy  wounds  oer  and  oer, 
And  syne  they  'U  bleed  nae  mair. 

6  '  And  ye  '11  tak  aff  my  hoUin  sark, 
And  riv  't  frae  gair  to  gair ; 
Ye  'U  stap  it  in  my  bluidy  wounds, 
.;    And  syne  they  '11  bleed  nae  mair.' 

6  He  's  liftit  liis  brother  upon  his  back, 

Taen  him  to  yon  wall  fair  ; 
He  's  washed  his  bluidy  wounds  oer  and  oer, 
But  ay  they  bled  mair  and  mair. 

7  And  he  's  taen  afE  his  hoUin  sark, 

And  riven  't  frae  gair  to  gair  ; 
He  's  stappit  it  in  his  bluidy  wounds. 
But  ay  they  bled  mair  and  mair. 

8  '  Ye  '11  lift  me  up  upon  your  back, 

Tak  me  to  Kirkland  fair  ; 
Ye  '11  mak  my  greaf  baith  braid  and  lang. 
And  lay  my  body  there. 


9  '  Ye  '11  lay  my  arrows  at  my  head,  j 

My  bent  bow  at  my  feet. 
My  sword  and  buckler  at  my  side. 
As  I  was  wont  to  sleep. 

10  '  Whan  ye  gae  hame  to  your  father, 

He  'U  speer  for  his  son  John  : 
Say,  ye  left  him  into  Kirkland  fair, 
Learning  the  school  alone. 

11  '  When  ye  gae  hame  to  my  sister. 

She  '11  speer  for  her  brother  John : 
Ye  'U  say,  ye  left  him  in  Kirkland  fair, 
The  green  grass  growin  aboon. 

12  '  Whan  ye  gae  hame  to  my  true-love. 

She  'U  speer  for  her  lord  John  : 
Ye  '11  say,  ye  left  him  in  Kirkland  fair. 
But  hame  ye  fear  he  '11  never  come.' 

13  He  's  gane  hame  to  his  father ; 

He  speered  for  his  son  John  : 
'  It 's  I  left  him  into  Kirkland  fair, 
Learning  the  school  alone.' 

14  And  whan  he  gaed  hame  to  his  sister, 

She  speered  for  her  brother  John  : 
'  It 's  I  left  him  into  Kirkland  fair. 
The  green  grass  growin  aboon.' 

15  And  whan  he  gaed  home  to  liis  true-love. 

She  speerd  for  her  lord  John  : 
'  It 's  I  left  him  into  Kirkland  fair, 
And  hame  I  fear  he  '11  never  come.' 

16  '  But  whaten  bluid  's  that  on  your  sword,  Wil- 

lie ? 
Sweet  Willie,  tell  to  me  ; ' 
'  O  it  is  the  bluid  o  my  grey  hounds. 
They  wadna  rin  for  me.' 

17  '  It 's  nae  the  bluid  o  your  hounds,  WLUie, 

Their  bluid  was  never  so  red  ; 


49.    THE  TWA   BROTHERS 


441 


But  it  is  the  bluid  o  my  true-love, 
That  ye  hae  slain  indeed.' 

18  That  fair  may  wept,  that  fair  may  moumd, 
That  fair  may  mournd  and  pin'd : 
'  When  every  lady  looks  for  her  love, 
I  neer  need  look  for  mine.' 


'  Ye  '11  put  me  in  a  bottomless  boat, 
And  I  '11  gae  sail  the  sea.' 

20  '  Whan  will  ye  come  hame  again,  Willie  ? 
Now,  Willie,  tell  to  me  ; ' 
'  Whan  the  sun  and  moon  dances  on  the  green, 
And  that  will  never  be.' 


19  '  0  whaten  a  death  wiU  ye  die,  WiUie  ? 
Now,  Willie,  tell  to  me  ; ' 


E 

Motherwell's  Minstrelsy,  p.  60. 

1  Theke  were  twa  brothers  at  the  scule. 

And  when  they  got  awa, 
'  It 's  wUl  ye  play  at  the  stane-chucking, 

Or  win  ye  play  at  the  ba. 
Or  will  ye  gae  up  to  yon  hUl  head. 

And  there  we  '11  warsel  a  f a  ?  ' 

2  '  I  winna  play  at  the  stane-chucking, 

Nor  will  I  play  at  the  ba ; 
But  I  '11  gae  up  to  yon  bonnie  green  hill. 
And  there  we  'U  warsel  a  fa-' 

3  They  warsled  up,  they  warsled  down. 

Till  John  fell  to  the  ground  ; 
A  dirk  fell  out  of  William's  pouch, 
And  gave  John  a  deadly  wound. 

4  '  0  lift  me  upon  your  back. 

Take  me  to  yon  well  fair, 
And  wash  my  bluidy  wounds  oer  and  oer. 
And  they  'U  neer  bleed  nae  mair.' 

6  He 's  lifted  his  brother  upon  his  back, 
Taen  him  to  yon  well  fair  ; 
He  's  wash'd  his  bluidy  wounds  oer  and  oer. 
But  they  bleed  ay  mair  and  mair. 

6  '  Tak  ye  a£B  my  holland  sark. 

And  rive  it  gair  by  gair. 
And  row  it  in  my  bluidy  wounds. 
And  they  'U  neer  bleed  nae  mair.' 

7  He 's  taken  aff  his  holland  sark. 

And  torn  it  gair  by  gair ; 
He 's  rowit  it  in  his  bluidy  wounds, 
But  they  bleed  ay  mair  and  mair. 


8  '  Tak  now  aff  my  green  cleiding, 

And  row  me  saf tly  in. 
And  tak  me  up  to  yon  kirk-style, 

Whare  the  grass  grows  fair  and  green.' 

9  He 's  taken  aff  the  green  cleiding. 

And  rowed  him  saftly  in ; 
He  's  laid  him  down  by  yon  kirk-style, 
Whare  the  grass  grows  fair  and  green. 

10  '  What  will  ye  say  to  your  father  dear, 

Wlien  ye  gae  hame  at  een  ?  ' 
'  I  '11  say  ye  're  lying  at  yon  kirk-style, 
Whare  the  grass  grows  fair  and  green.' 

11  '  O  no,  0  no,  my  brother  dear, 

O  you  must  not  say  so  ; 
But  say  that  I  'm  gane  to  a  foreign  land, 
Whare  nae  man  does  me  know.' 

12  When  he  sat  in  his  father's  chair, 

He  grew  baith  pale  and  wan : 
'  O  what  blude  's  that  upon  your  brow  ? 
O  dear  son,  tell  to  me  ; ' 

*  It  is  the  blude  o  my  gude  gray  steed. 

He  wadna  ride  wi  me.' 

13  '  O  thy  steed's  blude  was  neer  sae  red, 

Nor  eer  sae  dear  to  me  : 
O  what  blude  's  this  upon  your  cheek  ? 
0  dear  son,  tell  to  me  ; ' 

*  It  is  the  blude  of  my  greyhound. 

He  wadna  hunt  for  me." 

14  '  O  thy  hound's  blude  was  neer  sae  i-ed. 

Nor  eer  sae  dear  to  me  : 
O  what  blude  's  this  upon  your  hand  ? 
O  dear  son,  tell  to  me  ; ' 

*  It  is  the  blude  of  my  gay  goss-hawk. 

He  wadna  flee  for  me.' 


442 


49.    THE  TWA  BROTHERS 


15  *  O  thy  hawk's  hlude  was  neer  sae  red, 

Nor  eer  sae  dear  to  me  : 
O  what  blude  's  this  upon  your  dirk  ? 

Dear  Willie,  tell  to  me  ; ' 
''It  is  the  blude  of  my  ae  brother, 

0  dule  and  wae  is  me  ! ' 

16  '  O  what  will  ye  say  to  your  father  ? 

Dear  WUlie,  tell  to  me  ; ' 
'  I  '11  saddle  my  steed,  and  awa  I  '11  ride. 
To  dwell  in  some  far  countrie.' 


17  '  0  when  will  ye  come  hame  again  ? 

Dear  Willie,  tell  to  me  ; ' 
'  When  sun  and  mune  leap  on  yon  hill, 
And  that  will  never  be.' 

18  She  turnd  hersel  right  round  about, 

And  her  heart  burst  into  three  : 
'  My  ae  best  son  is  deid  and  gane. 
And  my  tother  ane  I  '11  neer  see.' 


F 

Buchan's  MSS,  I,  57  ;  Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  662. 

1  There  were  twa  brothers  in  the  east, 

Went  to  the  school  o  Ayr  ; 

The  one  unto  the  other  did  say, 

Come  let  us  wrestle  here. 

2  They  wrestled  up  and  wrestled  down, 

Till  John  fell  to  the  ground  ; 
There  being  a  knife  in  Willie's  pocket, 
Gae  John  his  deadly  wound. 

3  '  O  is  it  for  my  gold,  brother  ? 

Or  for  my  white  monie  ? 
Or  is  it  for  my  lands  sae  braid. 
That  ye  hae  kUled  me  ?  ' 

4  '  It  is  not  for  your  gold,'  he  said, 

'  Nor  for  your  white  monie  ; 
It  is  by  the  hand  o  accident 
That  I  hae  killed  thee.' 

5  '  Ye  '11  take  the  shirt  that 's  on  my  back. 

Rive  it  frae  gair  to  gair. 
And  try  to  stop  my  bloody  wounds, 
For  they  bleed  wonderous  sair.' 

6  He 's  taen  the  shirt  was  on  his  back, 

Reave  it  frae  gare  to  gare. 
And  tried  to  stop  his  bleeding  wounds, 
But  still  they  bled  the  mair. 

7  '  Ye  'U  take  me  up  upon  your  back, 

Carry  me  to  yon  water  clear. 

And  try  to  stop  my  bloody  wounds. 

For  they  run  wonderous  sair.' 

8  He 's  taen  him  up  upon  his  back, 

Carried  him  to  yon  water  clear. 


And  tried  to  stop  his  bleeding  wounds, 
But  still  they  bled  the  mair. 

9  '  Ye  '11  take  me  up  upon  your  back. 
Carry  me  to  yon  church-yard ; 
Ye  '11  dig  a  grave  baith  wide  and  deep, 
And  then  ye  '11  lay  me  there. 

10  '  Ye  '11  put  a  head-stane  at  my  head, 

Another  at  my  feet, 
Likewise  a  sod  on  my  breast-bane, 
The  souner  I  may  sleep. 

11  '  Whenever  my  father  asks  of  thee. 

Saying,  What 's  become  of  John  ? 
Ye  '11  tell  frae  me,  I  'm  ower  the  sea. 
For  a  cargo  of  good  wine. 

12  '  And  when  my  sweetheart  asks  of  thee. 

Saying,  What 's  become  of  John  ? 
Ye  '11  tell  frae  me,  I  'm  ower  the  sea. 
To  buy  a  wedding  gown. 

13  '  And  when  my  sister  asks  of  thee, 

Saying,  William,  where  is  John  ? 
Ye  '11  tell  frae  me,  I  'm  ower  the  sea, 
To  learn  some  merry  sang. 

14  *  And  when  my  mother  asks  of  thee. 

Saying,  William,  where  is  John  ? 
Tell  her  I  'm  buried  in  green  Fordland, 
The  grass  growing  ower  my  tomb.' 

15  He 's  taen  him  up  upon  his  back. 

Carried  him  to  yon  church-yard. 
And  dug  a  grave  baith  wide  and  deep. 
And  he  was  buried  there. 

16  He  laid  a  head-stane  at  his  head, 

Another  at  his  feet. 


49.    THE  TWA  BROTHERS 


443 


And  laid  a  green  sod  on  his  breast, 
The  souner  he  might  sleep. 

17  His  father  asked  when  he  came  hame, 

Saying,  '  William,  where  is  John  ?  ' 
Then  John  said,  '  He  is  ower  the  sea, 
To  bring  you  hame  some  wine.' 

18  '  What  blood  is  this  upon  you,  William, 

And  looks  sae  red  on  thee  ?  ' 
'  It  is  the  blood  o  my  grey-hound. 
He  woudna  run  for  me.' 

19  '  O  that 's  nae  like  your  grey-hound's  blude, 

William,  that  I  do  see  ; 
I  fear  it  is  your  own  brother's  blood 
That  looks  sae  red  on  thee.' 


It  is  the  blood  o  your  brother  John, 
That  looks  sae  red  on  thee.' 

22  '  It 's  nae  the  blood  o  my  brother  John, 

Father,  that  ye  do  see  ; 
It  is  the  blude  o  my  good  grey  hawk. 
Because  he  woudna  flee.' 

23  '  O  that  is  nae  your  grey  hawk's  blood, 

William,  that  I  do  see  :  ' 
'  Well,  it 's  the  blude  o  my  brother. 
This  country  I  maun  flee.' 

24  '  O  when  will  ye  come  back  again. 

My  dear  son,  tell  to  me  ?  ' 
'  When  sun  and  moon  gae  three  times  round, 
And  this  will  never  be.' 


20  '  That  is  not  my  own  brother's  blude. 

Father,  that  ye  do  see  ; 
It  is  the  blood  o  my  good  grey  steed. 
He  woudna  carry  me.' 

21  '  O  that  is  nae  your  grey  steed's  blude, 

William,  that  I  do  see ; 


25  '  Ohon,  alas  !  now  William,  my  son, 
This  is  bad  news  to  me ; 
Your  brother's  death  I  'U  aye  bewail. 
And  the  absence  o  thee.' 


G 


a.  Taken  down  lately  from  the  singing  of  little  girls  in 
South  Boston,  b.  Two  stanzas,  from  a  child  in  New  York, 
1880.    Communicated  by  Mr  W.  W.  Newell. 

1  As  John  and  William  were  coming  home  one 

day, 
One  Saturday  afternoon. 
Says  John  to  William,  Come  and  try  a  fight, 
Or  will  you  throw  a  stone  ? 
Or  will  you  come  down  to  yonder,  yonder 

town 
Where  the  maids  are  all  playing  ball,  ball, 

baU, 
Where  the  maids  are  all  playing  ball  ? 

2  Says  WiUiam  to  John,  I  will  not  try  a  fight, 

Nor  will  I  throw  a  stone. 
Nor  will  I  come  down  to  yonder  town. 
Where  the  maids  are  all  playing  ball. 


)^ 


3  So  John  took  out  of  his  pocket 
A  knife  both  long  and  sharp. 
And  stuck  it  through  his  brother's  heart, 
And  the  blood  came  pouring  down. 


4  Says  .John  to  William,  Take  o£B  thy  shirt, 

And  tear  it  from  gore  to  gore. 
And  wrap  it  round  your  bleeding  heart. 
And  the  blood  will  pour  no  more.' 

5  So  John  took  off  his  shirt, 

And  tore  it  from  gore  to  gore. 
And  wrapped  it  round  his  bleeding  heart, 
And  the  blood  came  pouring  more. 

6  '  What  shall  I  teU  your  dear  father. 

When  I  go  home  to-night  ? ' 
'  You  'U  tell  him  I  'm  dead  and  in  my  grave, 
For  the  truth  must  be  told.' 

7  '  What  shall  I  teU  your  dear  mother, 

When  I  go  home  to-night  ? ' 
'  You  'U  tell  her  I  'm  dead  and  in  my  grave, 
For  the  truth  must  be  told.' 

8  '  How  came  this  blood  upon  your  knife  ? 

My  son,  come  tell  to  me  ; ' 
'  It  is  the  blood  of  a  rabbit  I  have  killed, 
0  mother,  pardon  me.' 


444 


50.    THE   BONNY   HIND 


■  The  blood  of  a  rabbit  couklnt  be  so  pure, 

My  son,  come  tell  to  me  : ' 
'  It  is  the  blood  of  a  squirrel  I  have  killed, 

O  mother,  pardon  me.' 


10  '  The  blood  of  a  squirrel  couldnt  be  so  pure. 
My  son,  come  tell  to  me  : ' 
'  It  is  the  blood  of  a  brother  I  have  killed, 
O  mother,  pardon  me.' 


A.      1^.   Var.  to  the  chase. 

10'.  "  As  to  Kirk-land,  my  copy  has  only  kirk- 
yard,   till  the  last  verse,  where  land 
has    been    added    from    conjecture." 
Sharpe's  Ballad-Book,  p.  56. 
D.      1«,  2».  o  WarsUn. 
F.    13».  tell  me  free. 

Motherwell  has  Scotticised  the  spelling. 
9*.  Motherwell  has  leave. 
11^  12^,  13S  14'.  Motherwell,  speirs  at  thee. 
23'.  Motherwell  has  my  ae  brother. 


G.    b.  1.  Jack  and  "WiUiam  was  gone  to  school, 
One  fine  afternoon  ; 
Jack  says  to  William,   WUl  you  try    a 
fight? 
Do  not  throw  no  stones. 

2.  Jack  took  out  his  little  penknife, 
The  end  of  it  was  sharp, 
He  stuck  it  through  his  brother's  heart, 
And  the  blood  was  teeming  down. 


50 
THE   BONNY   HIND 

'  The  Bonny  Hyn,'  Herd's  MSS,  I,  224  ;  II,  fol.  G5,  fol.  83. 


This  piece  is  transcribed  three  times  in 
Herd's  manuscripts,  with  a  note  prefixed  in 
each  instance  that  it  was  copied  from  the 
mouth  of  a  milkmaid  in  1771.  An  endorse- 
ment to  the  same  effect  on  the  last  transcript 
gives  the  date  as  1787,  no  doubt  by  mistake. 
Scott  had  only  MS.  I  in  his  hands,  which 
accidentally  omits  two  stanzas  (13,  14),  and 
he  printed  this  defective  copy  with  the  omis- 
sion of  still  another  (4) :  Minstrelsy,  II,  298, 
ed.  1802  ;  III,  309,  ed.  1833.  Motherwell  sup- 
plies these  omitted  stanzas,  almost  in  Herd's 
very  words,  in  tlie  Introduction  to  his  collec- 
tion, p.  Ixxxiv,  note  99.  He  remarks,  p.  189, 
that  tales  of  this  kind  abound  in  the  tra- 
ditionary poetry  of  Scotland.  The  two  bal- 
lads which  follow,  Nos  51,  62,  are  of  the  same 
general  description. 

In  the  first  half  of  the.  story  '  The  Bonny 
Hind '  comes  very  near  to  the  fine  Scandina- 


vian ballad  of  '  Margaret,'  as  yet  known  to  be 
preserved  only  in  Faroe  and  Icelandic.  The 
conclusions  differ  altogether.  Margaret  in  the 
Faroe  ballad,  '  Margretu  kvse?Si,'  Fasroiske 
Kvaeder,  Hammersliaimb,  No  18,  is  the  only 
daughter  of  the  Norwegian  king  Magnus,  and 
has  been  put  in  a  convent.  After  two  or  three 
months  she  longs  to  see  her  father's  house 
again.  On  her  way  thither  she  is  assaulted 
by  a  young  noble  with  extreme  violence  :  to 
whom  she  says, 

Now  you  have  torn  off  all  my  clothes,   and  done 

me  sin  and  shame, 
I  beg  you,  before  God  most  high,  teU  me  what  is 

your  name. 

Magnus,  he  answers,  is  his  father,  and  Ger- 
trude his  mother,  and  he  himself  is  Olaf,  and 
was  brought  up  in  the  woods.  By  this  she 
recognizes  that  he  is  her  own  brother.    Olaf 


50.    THE  BONNY  HIND 


445 


begs  her  to  go  back  to  the  convent,  and  say 
nothing,  bearing  her  sorrow  as  she  may.  This 
she  does.  But  every  autumn  the  king  makes 
a  feast,  and  invites  to  it  all  the  nuns  in  the 
cloister.  Margaret  is  missed,  and  asked  for. 
Is  she  sick  or  dead?  Why  does  she  not  come 
to  the  feast,  like  other  merry  dames  ?  The 
wicked  abbess  answers,  Your  daughter  is 
neither  sick  nor  dead  ;  she  goes  with  child, 
like  other  merry  dames.  The  king  rides  off 
to  the  cloister,  encounters  his  daughter,  and 
demands  who  is  the  father  of  her  child.  She 
replies  that  she  will  sooner  die  than  tell.  The 
king  leaves  her  in  wrath,  but  returns  present- 
ly, resolved  to  burn  the  convent,  and  Margaret 
in  it.  Olaf  comes  from  the  wood,  tired  and 
weary,  sees  the  cloister  burning,  and  quenches 
the  flames  with  his  heart's  blood. 

The  Icelandic  ballad,  '  Margr^tar  kvaeSi,' 
Islenzk  Fornkvse?5i,  Grundtvig  and  SigurSsson, 
No  14,  has  the  same  story.  It  is,  however, 
the  man  who  brings  on  the  discovery  by  ask- 
ing the  woman's  parentage.  The  editors  in- 
form us  that  the  same  subject  is  treated  in 
an  unprinted  Icelandic  ballad,  less  popular  as 
to  style  and  stanza,  in  the  Arne  Magnussen 
collection,  154. 

The  story  of  Kullervo,  incorporated  in  what 
is  called  the  national  epic  of  the  Finns,  the 
Kalevala,  has  striking  resemblances  with  the 
ballads  of  the  Bonny  Hind  class.  While  re- 
turning home  in  his  sledge  from  a  somewhat 
distant  errand,  Kullervo  met  three  times  a  girl 
who  was  travelling  on  snow-shoes,  and  invited 
her  to  get  in  with  him.  She  rejected  his  in- 
vitation with  fierceness,  and  the  third  time 
he  pulled  her  into  the  sledge  by  force.  She 
angrily  bade  him  let  her  go,  or  she  would  dash 
the  sledge  to  pieces  ;  but  he  won  her  over  by 
showing  her  rich  things.  The  next  morning 
she  asked  what  was  his  race  and  family  ;  for 
it  seemed  to  her  that  he  must  come  of  a  great 
line.  "  No,"  he  said,  "  neither  of  great  nor 
small.  I  am  Kalervo's  unhappy  son.  Tell 
me  of  what  stock  art  thou."  "  Of  neither 
great  nor  small,"  she  answered.  "  I  am  Kal- 
ervo's unhappy  daughter."  She  was,  in  fact, 
a  long-lost  sister  of  KuUervo's,  who,  when  a 
child,  had  gone  to  the  wood  for  berries,  and 


had  never  found  her  way  home.  She  had 
wept  the  first  day  and  the  second  ;  the  third 
and  fourth,  the  fifth  and  sixth,  she  had  tried 
every  way  to  kill  herself.  She  broke  out  in 
heart-piercing  lamentations  : 

'  0  that  I  had  died  then,  wretched  ! 
O  tliat  I  had  perished,  weak  one ! 
Had  not  lived  to  hear  these  horrors, 
Had  not  lived  this  shame  to  suffer  ! ' 

So  saying  she  sprang  from  the  sledge  into  the 
river,  and  found  relief  under  the  waters. 

Kullei'vo,  mad  with  anguish,  went  home  to 
his  mother,  and  told  her  what  had  happened. 
He  asked  only  how  he  might  die,  —  by  wolf 
or  bear,  by  whale  or  sea-pike.  His  mother 
vainly  sought  to  soothe  him.  He  consented 
to  live  only  till  the  wrongs  of  his  parents  had 
been  revenged.  His  mother  tried  to  dissuade 
him  even  from  seeking  a  hero's  death  in  fight. 

'  If  thou  die  in  battle,  tell  me. 
What  protection  shall  remain  then 
For  the  old  age  of  thy  father  ?  ' 
'  Let  him  die  in  any  alley, 
Lay  his  life  down  in  the  house-yard.' 
'  What  protection  shall  remain  then 
For  the  old  age  of  thy  mother  ? ' 
'  Let  her  die  on  any  straw-truss ; 
Let  her  stifle  in  the  stable.' 
'  Who  shall  then  be  left  tliy  brother, 
Who  stand  by  him  in  mischances  ?  ' 
'  Let  him  pine  away  in  the  forest, 
Let  him  drop  down  on  the  common.' 
'  Who  shall  then  be  left  thy  sister, 
Who  stand  by  her  in  mischances  ?  ' 
'  When  she  goes  to  the  well  for  water, 
Or  to  the  washing,  let  her  stumble.' 

Kullervo  had  his  fill  of  revenge.  Meanwhile 
fathec,  brother,  sister,  and  mother  died,  and 
he  came  back  to  his  home  to  find  it  empty 
and  cold.  A  voice  from  his  mother's  grave 
seemed  to  direct  him  to  go  to  the  wood  for 
food  :  obeying  it,  he  came  again  to  the  pol- 
luted spot,  where  grass  or  flowers  would  not 
grow  any  more.  He  asked  his  sword  would  it 
like  to  feed  on  guilty  flesh  and  drink  wicked 
blood.  The  sword  said.  Why  should  I  not 
like  to  feed  on  guilty  flesh  and  drink  wicked 
blood,   I  that  feed  on  the  flesh  of  the  good 


446 


50.    THE  BONNY  HIND 


and  drink  the  blood  of  the  sinless  ?  Kullervo 
set  the  sword  hilt  in  the  earth,  and  threw 
himself  on  the  point.  (Kalewala,  iibertragen 
von  Schiefner,  runes  35,  36.) 

The  dialogue  between  Kullervo  and  his 
mother  is  very  like  a  passage  in  another  Fin- 
nish rune,  '  Werinen  Pojka,'  '  The  Bloody 
Son,'  Schroter,  Finnische  Runen,  124,  ed. 
1819 ;  150,  ed.  1834.  This  last  is  a  form  of 
the  ballad  known  in  Scottish  as  '  Edward,'  No 
13,  or  of  'The  Twa  Brothers,'  No  49.  Some- 
thing similar  is  found  in  '  Lizie  Wan,'  No  51. 

The  passage  5—7  is  a  commonplace  that  may 
be  expected  to  recur  under  the  same  or  analo- 
gous circumstances,  as  it  does  in  '  Tam  Lin,' 
D,  '  The  Knight  and  Shepherd's  Daughter,' 
'  The  Maid  and  the  Magpie,'  and  in  one  ver- 
sion of  '  The  Broom  of  Cowdenknows.'  These 
are  much  less  serious  ballads,  and  the  tone 


of  stanza  5,  which  so  111  befits  the  distressful 
situation,  is  perhaps  owing  to  that  stanza's 
having  been  ti'ansferred  from  some  copy  of 
one  of  these.  It  might  well  change  places 
with  this,  from  '  The  Knight  and  Shepherd's 
Daughter,'  A  : 

Sith  you  have  had  your  will  of  me, 

And  put  me  to  open  shame, 
Now,  if  you  are  a  courteous  knight, 

Tell  me  what  is  your  name. 

Much  better  with  the  solemn  adjuration  in 
the  Faroe  '  Margaret,'  or  even  this  in  '  Ebbe 
Gait,'  Danske  Viser,  No  63,  8 : 

Now  you  have  had  your  will  of  me, 

To  both  of  us  small  gain, 
By  the  God  that  is  above  aU  things, 

I  beg  you  tell  your  name. 


Herd's  MSS,  II,  fol.  65.    "  Copied  from  tlie  mouth  of  a 
milkmaid,  by  W.  L  ,  in  1771." 


I  am  nae  courtier,  fair  maid. 
But  when  I  court  'ith  thee. 


1  0  MAT  she  comes,  and  may  she  goes, 
Down  by  yon  gardens  green, 
And  there  she  spied  a  gallant  squire 
As  squire  had  ever  been. 


7  '  They  call  me  Jack  when  I  'm  abroad. 
Sometimes  they  call  me  John  ; 
But  when  I  'm  in  my  father's  bower 
Jock  Randal  is  my  name.' 


2  And  may  she  comes,  and  may  she  goes, 
Down  by  yon  hollin  tree, 
And  there  she  spied  a  brisk  young  squire, 
And  a  brisk  young  squire  was  he. 


8  '  Ye  lee,  ye  lee,  ye  bonny  lad, 
Sae  loud  's  I  hear  ye  lee  ! 
Ffor  I  'm  Lord  Randal's  yae  daughter, 
He  has  nae  mair  nor  me.' 


3  '  Give  me  your  green  manteel,  fair  maid. 
Give  me  your  maidenhead  ; 
Gif  ye  winna  gie  me  your  green  manteel, 
Gi  me  your  maidenhead.' 


9  '  Ye  lee,  ye  lee,  ye  bonny  may, 
Sae  loud 's  I  hear  ye  lee  ! 
For  I  'm  Lord  Randal's  yae  yae  son. 
Just  now  come  oer  the  sea.' 


4  He  has  taen  her  by  the  milk-white  hand, 
And  softly  laid  her  down, 
And  when  he  's  lifted  her  up  again 
Given  her  a  silver  kaim. 


10  She 's  putten  her  hand  down  by  her  spare, 
And  out  she  's  taen  a  knife. 
And  she  has  putn  't  in  her  heart's  bluid, 
And  taen  away  her  life. 


5  '  Perhaps  there  may  be  bairns,  kind  sir. 
Perhaps  there  may  be  nane  ; 
But  if  you  be  a  courtier. 

You  '11  tell  to  me  your  name.' 


11  And  he  's  taen  up  his  bonny  sister, 
With  the  big  tear  in  his  een. 
And  he  has  buried  his  bonny  sister 
Amang  the  hollins  green. 


6  '  I  am  nae  courtier,  fair  maid. 
But  new  come  frae  the  sea ; 


12  And  syne  he  's  hyed  him  oer  the  dale, 
His  father  dear  to  see  : 


51.    LIZIB  WAN 


447 


'  Sing  O  and  O  for  my  bonny  hind, 
Beneath  yon  hollin  tree  ! ' 

13  '  What  needs  you  care  for  yoar  bonny  hyn  ? 

For  it  you  needna  care  ; 
There  's  aught  score  hyns  in  yonder  park, 
And  five  score  hyns  to  spare. 

14  '  Four  score  of  them  are  siller-shod, 

Of  thae  ye  may  get  three  ; ' 
'  But  O  and  0  for  my  bonny  hyn, 
Beneath  yon  hollin  tree  !  ' 

15  '  What  needs  you  care  for  your  bonny  hyn  ? 

For  it  you  need  na  care ; 


Take  you  the  best,  gi  me  the  warst. 
Since  plenty  is  to  spare.' 

16  '  I  care  na  for  your  hyns,  my  lord, 

I  care  na  for  your  fee  ; 
But  O  and  O  for  my  bonny  hyn, 
Beneath  the  hollin  tree  ! ' 

17  '  O  were  ye  at  your  sister's  bower. 

Your  sister  fair  to  see, 
Ye  '11  think  na  mair  o  your  bonny  hyn 
Beneath  the  hollin  tree.' 


'  The  Bonny  Heyn,'  I,  224. 
3'.  Should  be  It 's  not  for  you  a  weed.     Mother- 
well. 
4*.  The  third  copy  omits  when. 
4°'*.  he  lifted,  He  gae  her.    Mothenoell. 
5*'  ^  The  second  copy  has  they. 
6*.  All  have  courteth.     Scott  prints  wi'  thee,  with 
thee. 


7'.  The  third  copy  has  tower. 

10''  *.  She 's  soakt  it  in  her  red  heart's  blood, 

And  twin'd  herself  of  life.     Motheinvell. 

13, 14.  The  first  copy  omits  these  stanzas. 


51 
LIZIE   WAN 

A.   a.  '  Lizie  Wan,'  Herd's  MSS,  I,  151;  II,  78.^  b.      B.   '  Rosie  Ann,'  Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  398. 
Herd's  Scottish  Songs,  1776,  I,  91. 


A,  FIEST  printed  in  Herd's  Scottish  Songs, 
ed.  1776,  is  here  given  from  his  manuscript 
copy.     B  is  now  printed  for  the  first  time. 

A  is  translated  by  Grundtvig,  Engelske  og 
Skotske  Folkeviser,  No  60,  who  subjoins  a 
Danish  ballad, '  Liden  Ellen  og  hendes  Broder,' 
of  similar  character.  Of  this  the  editor  had 
three  versions,  differing  but  little,  and  all  of 
slight  poetical  value,  and  he  prints  one  which 
was  committed  to  writing  some  sixty  or  sev- 
enty years  ago,  with  some  readings  from  the 
others.  Liden  Jensen,  having  killed  Liden 
Ellen  in  a  wood,  pretends  to  his  mother  that 


she  has  gone  off  with  some  knights.  He  is 
betrayed  by  blood  on  his  clothes,  confesses  the 
truth,  and  is  condemned  to  be  burned.  '  Herr 
Axel,'  Arwidsson's  Swedish  collection,  No  46, 
I,  308,  under  similar  circumstances,  kills  Stolts 
Kirstin's  two  children,  is  asked  by  his  mother 
why  his  hands  are  bloody,  pretends  to  have 
slain  a  hind  in  the  wood,  and  has  his  head 
struck  off  by  order  of  his  father. 

'  Herr  Peder  og  bans  Sbster,'  an  unpublished 
Danish  ballad,  of  which  Grundtvig  obtained 
a  single  traditional  version,  has  also  a  slight 
resemblance  to  '  Lizie  Wan.'     Kirsten  invites 


448 


51.    LIZIE   WAN 


Sir  Peter  to  her  bed.  He  declines  for  various 
reasons,  which  she  refutes.  She  discovers  him 
to  be  her  brother  by  her  needle-work  in  his 
shirt.  He  draws  his  knife  and  stabs  her. 
"  This  was  also  a  pitiful  sight,  the  twin  chil- 


dren playing  in  the  mother's  bosom."  Com- 
pare Kristensen,  II,  No  74  A,  D,  B,  at  the  end. 
The  conclusion,  A  11-12,  B  10-17,  resem- 
bles that  of  '  The  Twa  Brothers,'  No  49,  but 
is  poetically  much  inferior. 


Herd's  MSS,  I,  151  ;  stanzas  1-6,  II,  p.  78.    Herd's  Scot- 
tish Songs,  1776,  I,  91. 

1  LiziE  Wan  sits  at  her  father's  bower-door, 

Weeijing  and  making  a  mane, 
And  by  there  came  her  father  dear  : 
'  What  ails  thee,  Lizie  Wan  ?  ' 

2  '  I  aU,  and  I  ail,  dear  father,'  she  said, 

'  And  I  '11  tell  you  a  reason  for  why  ; 
There  is  a  child  between  my  twa  sides, 
Between  my  dear  biUy  and  I.' 

3  Now  Lizie  Wan   sits  at  her  father's  bower - 

door. 
Sighing  and  making  a  mane, 
And  by  there  came  her  brother  dear : 
'  What  ails  thee,  Lizie  Wan  ?  ' 

4  '  I  ail,  I  ail,  dear  brither,'  she  said, 

'  And  I  '11  tell  you  a  reason  for  why  ; 
There  is  a  child  between  my  twa  sides. 
Between  you,  dear  biUy,  and  I.' 

6  '  And  hast  thou  tald  father  and  mother  o  that  ? 
And  hast  thou  tald  sae  o  me  ? ' 
And  he  has  drawn  his  gude  braid  sword, 
That  hang  down  by  his  knee. 

6  And  he  has  cutted  aff  Lizie  Wan's  head, 
And  her  fair  body  in  three. 
And  he  's  awa  to  his  mothers  bower, 
And  sair  aghast  was  he. 


7  '  What  ails  thee,  what  ails  thee,  Geordy  Wan  ? 

What  ails  thee  sae  fast  to  rin  ? 
For  I  see  by  thy  ill  colour 

Some  fallow's  deed  thou  hast  done.' 

8  '  Some  fallow's  deed  I  have  done,  mother, 

And  I  pray  you  pardon  me  ; 
For  I  've  cutted  aff  my  greyhound's  head  ; 
He  wadna  rin  for  me.' 

9  '  Thy  greyhound's  bluid  was  never  sae  red, 

O  my  son  Geordy  Wan  ! 
For  I  see  by  thy  ill  colour 

Some  fallow's  deed  thou  hast  done.' 

10  '  Some  fallow's  deed  I  hae  done,  mother. 

And  I  pray  you  pardon  me  ; 
For  I  hae  cutted  aff  Lizie  Wan's  head 
And  her  fair  body  in  three.' 

11  '  0  what  wilt  thou  do  when  thy  father  comes 

hame, 
O  my  son  Geordy  Wan  ? ' 
'  I  '11  set  my  foot  in  a  bottomless  boat, 
I  And  swim  to  the  sea-ground.' 

12  '  And  when  will  thou  come  hame  again, 

O  my  son  Geordy  Wan  ?  ' 
'  The  sun  and  the  moon  shall  dance  on  the 
green 
That  night  when  I  come  hame.' 


B 


Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  398. 
Storie,  Lochwinnich. 


From  the  recitation  of  Mrs 


1  RosiE  she  sat  in  her  simmer  bower, 
Greitin  and  making  grit  mane. 
When  down  by  cam  her  father,  saying. 
What  ails  thee  Rosie  Ann  ? 


2  '  A  deal,  a  deal,  dear  father,'  she  said, 

'  Great  reason  hae  I  to  mane. 
For  there  lyes  a  little  babe  in  my  side, 
Between  me  and  my  brither  John.' 

3  Rosie  she  sat  in  her  simmer  bower. 

Weeping  and  making  great  mane. 
And  wha  cam  doun  but  her  mither  dear. 
Saying,  What  ails  thee,  Rosie  Ann  ? 


51.     LIZIE  WAN 


449 


4  '  A  deal,  a  deal,  dear  mither,'  she  said, 

'  Great  reason  hae  I  to  mane, 
For  there  lyes  a  little  babe  in  my  side. 
Between  me  and  my  brither  John.' 

5  Rosie  she  sat  in  her  simmer  bower, 

Greiting  and  making  great  mane, 
And  wha  came  doun  but  her  sister  dear. 
Saying,  What  ails  thee,  Rosie  Ann  ? 

6  '  A  deal,  a  deal,  dear  sister,'  she  said, 

'  Great  reason  hae  I  to  mane. 
For  there  lyes  a  little  babe  in  my  side. 
Between  me  and  my  brither  John.' 

7  Rosie  she  sat  in  her  simmer  bower, 

"Weeping  and  making  great  mane. 
And   wha   cam   doun    but    her    fause,   fause 
brither. 
Saying,  What  ails  thee,  Rosie  Ann  ?     , 

8  '  A  deal,  a  deal,  dear  brither,'  she  said, 

'  Great  reason  hae  I  to  cry. 
For  there  lyes  a  little  babe  in  my  side, 
Between  yoursell  and  I.' 

9  '  Weel  ye  hae  tauld  father,  and  ye  hae  tauld 

mither, 
And  ye  hae  tauld  sister,  a'  three  ; ' 
Syne  he  pulled  out  his  wee  penknife, 
And  he  cut  her  fair  bodie  in  three. 

10  '  O  what  blude  is  that  on  the  point  o  your 
knife, 
Dear  son,  come  tell  to  me  ?  ' 
'  It  is  my  horse's,  that  I  did  kill. 
Dear  mother  and  fair  ladie.' 


11  '  The  blude  o  your  horse  was  neer  sae  red. 

Dear  son,  come  tell  to  me :  ' 
'  It  is  my  grandfather's,  that  I  hae  killed, 
Dear  mother  and  fair  ladie.' 

12  '  The  blude  o  your  grandfather  was  neer  sae 

fresh. 
Dear  son,  come  teU  to  me  : ' 
'  It  is  my  sister's,  that  I  did  kill. 
Dear  mother  and  fair  ladie.' 

13  '  What  wiU  ye  do   when  your  father  comes 

hame. 
Dear  son,  come  tell  to  me  ?  ' 
'  I  'U  set  my  foot  on  yon  shipboard. 
And  I  hope  she  '11  sail  wi  me.' 

14  '  What  will  ye  do  wi  your  bonny  bonny  young 

wife. 
Dear  son,  come  tell  to  me  ?  ' 
'  I  'U  set  her  foot  on  some  other  ship, 
And  I  hope  she  '11  foUow  me.' 

15  '  And  what  will  ye  do  wi  your  wee  son, 

Dear  son,  come  tell  to  me  ?  ' 
'  I  '11  leave  him  wi  you,  my  dear  mother, 
To  keep  in  remembrance  of  me.' 

16  '  What  will  ye  do  wi  your  houses  and  lands, 

Dear  son,  come  tell  to  me  ?  ' 
'  I  '11  leave  them  wi  you,  my  dear  mother, 
To  keep  my  own  babie.' 

17  '  And  whan  will  you  return  again, 

Dear  son,  come  tell  to  me  ?  ' 
*  When  the  sun  and  the  mune  meet  on  yon 
hill. 
And  I  hope  that  '11  neer  be.' 


B.   Written  without  division  into  stanzas. 


57 


450 


52.    THE  KING'S  DOCHTER  LADY  JEAN 


52 

THE   KING'S  DOCHTER  LADY   JEAN 

A.  a.  '  The  King's  Dochter  Lady  Jean,'  Motherwell's      C.   '  Castle  Ha's  Daughter,'  Buchan's  Ballads  of  the 
MS.,  p.   657.     b.  '  Lady  Jean,'  Motherwell's  Min-  North  of  Scotland,  I,  241. 

strelsy,  Appendix,  p.  xxi. 

D.  'Bold   Burnet's  Daughter.'     a.  Buchan's   MSS,  I, 

B.  Motherwell's   MS.,    p.   275  ;  the   first   six  lines   in  120.     b.  The  same,  II,  141. 
Motherwell's  Minstrelsy,  p.  189  f. 


B  IS  the  ballad  referred  to,  and  pai-tly  cited, 
in  Motherwell's  preface  to  '  The  Broom  blooms 
bonnie  and  says  it  is  fair,'  Minstrelsy,  p.  189. 
This  copy  has  been  extremely  injured  by  tra- 
dition ;  so  much  so  as  not  to  be  intelligible  in 
places  except  by  comparison  with  A.  The 
act  described  in  stanza  9  should  be  done  by 


the  king's  daughter's  own  hand;  stanza  12 
should  be  addressed  by  her  to  her  sister; 
stanza  13  is  composed  of  fragments  of  two. 
C  and  D  have  suffered  worse,  for  they  have 
been  corrupted  and  vulgarized. 

At  the  beginning  there  is  resemblance  to 
'  Tarn  Lin '  and  to  '  Hind  Etin.' 


a.  Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  657.  From  the  recitation  of 
Mrs  Stoiie,  Lochwinnich.  b.  Motherwell's  Miastrclsy,  Ap- 
pendix, p.  xxi,  No  XXIII,  one  stanza. 

1  The  king's  young  'dochter  was  sitting  in  her 

window, 
Sewing  at  her  silken  seam  ; 
She  lookt  out  o  the  bow-window, 

And  she  saw  the  leaves  growing  green,  my 

luve, 
And  she  saw  the  leaves  growing  green. 

2  She  stuck  her  needle  into  her  sleeve, 

Her  seam  down  by  her  tae. 
And  she  is  awa  to  the  merrie  green-wood, 
To  pu  the  nit  and  slae. 

d  3  She  hadna  pu't  a  nit  at  a', 
A  nit  but  scarcely  three. 
Till  out  and  spak  a  braw  young  man. 
Saying,  How  daur  ye  bow  the  tree  ? 

4  '  It 's  I  win  pu  the  nit,'  she  said, 
'  And  I  will  bow  the  tree. 
And  I  wiU  come  to  the  merrie  green  wud. 
And  na  ax  leive  o  thee.' 


5  He  took  her  by  the  middle  sae  sma. 

And  laid  her  on  the  gerss  sae  green. 
And  he  has  taen  his  will  o  her, 
And  he  loot  her  up  agen. 

6  '  Now  syn  ye  hae  got  your  will  o  me. 

Pray  tell  to  me  your  name  ; 
For  I  am  the  king's  young  dochter,'  she  said, 
'  And  this  nicht  I  dauma  gang  hame.' 

7  '  Gif  ye  be  the  king's  young  dochter,'  he  said, 

'  I  am  his  auldest  son  ; 
I  wish  I  had  died  on  some  frem  isle. 
And  never  had  come  hame  ! 

8  '  The  first  time  I  came  hame,  Jeanie, 

Thou  was  na  here  nor  born  ; 
I  wish  my  pretty  ship  had  sunk. 
And  I  had  been  forlorn  ! 

9  '  The  neist  time  I  came  hame,  Jeanie, 

Thou  was  sittin  on  the  nourice  knee  ; 
And  I  wish  my  pretty  ship  had  sunk, 
And  I  had  never  seen  thee  ! 

10  '  And  the  neist  time  I  came  hame,  Jeanie, 
I  met  thee  here  alane ; 


52.    THE  KING'S  DOCHTEB  LADY  JEAN 


451 


I  wish  my  pretty  ship  had  sunk, 
And  I  had  neer  come  hame  ! ' 

11  She  put  her  hand  down  by  her  side, 

And  doun  into  her  spare, 
And  she  pou't  out  a  wee  pen-knife, 
And  she  wounded  hersell  fu  sair. 

12  Hooly,  hooly  rase  she  up, 

And  hooly  she  gade  hame, 
Until  she  came  to  her  father's  parlour, 
And  there  she  did  sick  and  mane. 

13  '  O  sister,  sister,  mak  my  bed, 

O  the  clean  sheets  and  strae, 
0  sister,  sister,  mak  my  bed, 
Down  in  the  parlour  below.' 

14  Her  father  he  came  tripping  down  the  stair. 

His  steps  they  were  fu  slow  ; 
'  I  think,  I  think,  Lady  Jean,'  he  said, 
'  Ye  're  lying  far  ower  low.' 

15  '  O  late  yestreen,  as  I  came  hame, 

Down  by  yon  castU  wa, 
O  heavy,  heavy  was  the  stane 
That  on  my  briest  did  fa  ! ' 


16  Her  mother  she  came  tripping  doun  the  stair. 

Her  steps  they  were  fu  slow  ; 
'  I  think,  I  think.  Lady  Jean,'  she  said, 
'  Ye  're  lying  far  ower  low.' 

17  '  O  late  yestreen,  as  I  cam  hame, 

Down  by  yon  castU  wa, 
O  heavy,  heavy  was  the  stane 
That  on  my  breast  did  fa ! ' 

18  Her  sister  came  tripping  doun  the  stair, 

Her  steps  they  were  fu  slow  ; 
'  I  think,  I  think.  Lady  Jean,'  she  said, 
'  Ye  're  lying  far  ower  low.' 

18  '  0  late  yestreen,  as  I  cam  hame, 

Doim  by  yon  castU  wa, 
0  heavy,  heavy  was  the  stane 
That  on  my  breast  did  fa  ! ' 

19  Her  brither  he  cam  trippin  doun  the  stair, 

His  steps  they  were  f u  slow ; 
He  sank  into  liis  sister's  arms. 
And  they  died  as  white  as  snaw. 


B 


Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  275 ;  the  first  six  lines  in  Mother- 
well's Minstrelsy,  p.  189.    Froin  Margery  Johnston. 

1  Lady  Makgabet  sits  in  her  bow-window. 
Sewing  her  silken  seam ; 


2  She  's  drapt  the  thimble  at  her  tae. 

And  her  scissars  at  her  heel. 
And  she  's  awa  to  the  merry  green-wood, 
To  see  the  leaves  grow  green. 

3  She  had  scarsely  bowed  a  branch, 

Or  plucked  a  nut  f rae  the  tree, 

Till  up  and  starts  a  fair  young  man. 

And  a  fair  young  man  was  he. 

4  '  How  dare  ye  shake  the  leaves  ? '  he  said, 

'  How  dare  ye  break  the  tree  ? 
How  dare  ye  pluck  the  nuts,'  he  said, 
'  Without  the  leave  of  me  ? ' 


'  Oh  I  know  the  merry  green  wood  's  my 
ain, 
And  I  '11  ask  the  leave  of  nane.' 

6  He  gript  her  by  the  middle  sae  sma. 

He  gently  sat  her  down, 
While  the  grass  grew  up  on  every  side, 
And  the  apple  trees  hang  down. 

7  She  says.  Young  man,  what  is  your  name  ? 

For  ye  've  brought  me  to  meikle  shame ; 
For  I  am  the  king's  youngest  daughter. 
And  how  shaU  I  gae  hame  ? 

8  '  If  you  're  the  king's  youngest  daughter. 

It 's  I  'm  his  auldest  son, 
And  heavy  heavy  is  the  deed,  sister. 
That  you  and  I  have  done.' 

9  He  had  a  penknife  in  his  hand, 

Hang  low  down  by  his  gair. 


452 


52.    THE  KING'S  DOCHTEB  LADY  JEAN 


And  between  the  long  rib  and  the  short  one 
He  woundit  her  deep  and  sair. 


10 


12  '  0  sister  dear,  when  tliou  gaes  hame 
Unto  thy  father's  ha, 
It 's  make  my  bed  baith  braid  and  lang, 
Wi  the  sheets  as  white  as  snaw.' 


And  fast  and  fast  her  ruddy  bright  blood 
Fell  drapping  on  the  ground. 

11  She  took  the  glove  off  her  right  hand, 
And  slowly  slipt  it  in  the  wound. 
And  slowly  has  she  risen  up, 
And  slowly  slipped  home. 


13  '  When  I  came  by  the  high  church-yard 

Heavy  was  the  stain  that  bruised  my  heel, 

. that  bruised  my  heart, 

I  'm  afraid  it  shall  neer  heal.' 


0 


Buchan's  Ballads  and  Songs  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  I, 
241. 

1  As  Annie  sat  into  her  bower, 

A  thought  came  in  her  head, 
That  she  would  gang  to  gude  greenwood, 
Across  the  flowery  mead. 

2  She  hadna  pu'd  a  flower,  a  flower, 

Nor  broken  a  branch  but  twa, 
Till  by  it  came  a  gentle  squire. 
Says,  Lady,  come  awa. 

3  There  's  nane  that  comes  to  g^de  greenwood 

But  pays  to  me  a  tein. 
And  I  maun  hae  your  maidenhead. 
Or  than  your  mantle  green. 

4  '  My  mantle  's  o  the  finest  silk, 

Anither  I  can  spin  ; 
But  gin  you  take  my  maidenhead. 
The  like  I  '11  never  fin.' 

5  He  's  taen  her  by  the  milk-white  hand. 

And  by  the  grass-green  sleeve, 
There  laid  her  low  in  gude  greenwood. 
And  at  her  spierd  nae  leave. 

6  "When  he  had  got  his  wills  o  her, 

His  wills  as  he  had  taen, 
She  said,  If  you  rightly  knew  my  birth, 
Ye  'd  better  letten  alane. 

7  '  Is  your  father  a  lord  o  might  ? 

Or  baron  o  high  degree  ? 


Or  what  race  are  ye  sprung  frae. 
That  I  should  lat  ye  be  ?  ' 

8  '  0  I  am  Castle  Ha's  daughter, 

0  birth  and  high  degree. 

And  if  he  knows  what  ye  hae  done. 
He  '11  hang  you  on  a  tree.' 

9  '  If  ye  be  Castle  Ha's  daughter. 

This  day  I  am  undone  ; 
If  ye  be  Castle  Ha's  daughter, 

1  am  his  only  son.' 

10  '  Ye  lie,  ye  lie,  ye  jeUy  hind  squire, 

Sae  loud  as  I  hear  you  lie. 
Castle  Ha,  he  has  but  ae  dear  son, 
And  he  is  far  beyond  the  sea.' 

11  '  0  I  am  Castle  Ha's  dear  son, 

A  word  I  dinna  lie  ; 
Yes,  I  am  Castle  Ha's  dear  son, 
And  new  come  oer  the  sea. 

12  '  'T  was  yesterday,  that  fatal  day, 

That  I  did  cross  the  faem  ; 
I  wish  my  bonny  ship  had  sunk, 
And  I  had  neer  come  hame.' 

13  Then  dowie,  dowie,  raise  she  up. 

And  dowie  came  she  hame. 

And  stripped  aff  her  silk  mantle. 

And  then  to  bed  she  's  gane. 

14  Then  in  it  came  her  mother  dear, 

And  she  steps  in  the  fleer  : 


52.    THE  KIXG'S  DOCHTER  LADY  JEAN 


453 


'  Win  up,  win  up,  now  fair  Annie, 
What  makes  your  lying  here  ?  ' 

15  '  This  morning  fair,  as  I  went  out. 

Near  by  yon  castle  wa. 
Great  and  heavy  was  the  stane 
That  on  my  foot  did  fa.' 

16  '  Hae  I  nae  ha's,  hae  I  nae  bowers. 

Towers,  or  mony  a  town  ? 
Will  not  these  cure  your  bonny  foot. 
Gar  you  gae  hale  and  soun  ?  ' 

17  '  Ye  hae  ha's,  and  ye  hae  bowers, 

And  towers,  and  mony  a  town, 
But  nought  will  cure  my  bonny  foot. 
Gar  me  gang  hale  and  soun.' 

18  Then  in  it  came  her  father  dear. 

And  he  trips  in  the  fleer  : 
'  Win  up,  win  up,  now  fair  Annie, 
What  makes  your  lying  here  ? ' 

19  *  This  morning  fair,  as  I  went  out, 

Near  by  yon  castle  wa. 
Great  and  heavy  was  the  stane 
That  on  my  foot  did  fa.' 


20  '  Hae  I  nae  ha's,  hae  I  nae  bowers. 

And  towers,  and  mony  a  town  ? 

Will  not  these  cui-e  your  bonny  foot. 

Gar  you  gang  hale  and  soun  ?  ' 

21  '  O  ye  hae  ha's,  and  ye  hae  bowers, 

And  towers,  and  mony  a  town. 
But  nought  wiU  cure  my  bonny  foot. 
Gar  me  gang  hale  and  soun.' 

22  Then  in  it  came  her  sister  Grace  ; 

As  she  steps  in  the  fleer, 
'  Win  up,  win  up,  now  fair  Annie, 
What  makes  your  lying  here  ? 

23  '  Win  up,  and  see  your  ae  brother. 

That 's  new  come  ower  the  sea  ; ' 
'  Ohon,  alas  ! '  says  fair  Annie, 
'  He  spake  ower  soon  wi  me.' 

24  To  her  room  her  brother  's  gane. 

Stroked  back  her  yellow  hair, 
To  her  lips  his  ain  did  press. 
But  words  spake  never  mair. 


D 


a.  Buchan's  MSS,  I,  120.    b.  The  same,  II,  141. 

1  The  lady  's  taen  her  mantle  her  middle  about. 
Into  the  woods  she  's  gane, 


2  She  hadna  poud  a  flower  o  gude  green-wood, 

O  never  a  flower  but  ane, 
Till  by  he  comes,  an  by  he  gangs, 
Says,  Lady,  lat  alane. 

3  For  I  am  forester  o  this  wood, 

And  I  hae  power  to  pine 
Your  mantle  or  your  maidenhead, 
Which  o  the  twa  ye  '11  twine. 

4  '  My  mantle  is  o  gude  green  silk. 

Another  I  can  card  an  spin  ; 
But  gin  ye  tak  my  maidenhead, 
The  like  I 'U  never  fin.' 


5  He  's  taen  her  by  the  milk-white  hand, 

And  by  the  grass-green  sleeve, 
And  laid  her  low  at  the  foot  o  a  tree, 
At  her  high  kin  spierd  nae  leave. 

6  '  I  am  bold  Burnet's  ae  daughter. 

You  might  hae  lat  me  be  : ' 
'  And  I  'm  bold  Burnet's  ae  dear  son. 
Then  dear  !  how  can  this  dee  ?  ' 

7  '  Ye  lie,  ye  lie,  ye  jolly  hind  squire, 

So  loud  's  I  hear  you  lie  ! 
Bold  Burnet  has  but  ae  dear  son. 
He  's  sailing  on  the  sea.' 

8  '  Yesterday,  about  this  same  time. 

My  bonny  ship  came  to  land  ; 
I  wish  she  'd  sunken  in  the  sea, 
And  never  seen  the  strand  ! 

9  '  Heal  well  tliis  deed  on  me,  lady. 

Heal  well  this  deed  on  me  I ' 
'  Although  I  would  heal  it  neer  sae  well, 
Our  God  above  does  see.' 


454 


53.    "SOUNG  BEICHAN 


10  She  's  taen  her  mantle  her  miclcUe  ahout, 

And  mourning  went  she  hame, 
And  a'  the  way  she  sighd  full  sair, 
Crying,  Am  I  to  hlame  ! 

11  Ben  it  came  her  father  dear, 

Stout  stepping  on  the  flear  : 


'  Win  up,  win  up,  my  daughter  Janet, 
And  welcome  your  brother  here.' 

12  Up  she  's  taen  her  milk-white  hand, 
Streakd  by  his  yellow  hair, 
Then  turnd  about  her  bonny  face, 
And  word  spake  never  mair. 


A.    b.  1\  fine  silken. 


B. 


1'.  She  luikit  out  at  her  braw  bower  win- 
dow. 
1^'  ^  and  2  are  joined  in  the  MS. 
6''  *  joined  with  4.     5*.  no  leave  of  thee,  an 

emendation  hy  Motherwell,  for  rhytne. 
9*.  He  struck :  an  emendation. 
10^'  *  are  joined  with  9. 
13*.  That  bruised  by  heart. 
After  13  is  written  A  stanza  wanting. 


D.  The  first  three  stanzas  are  not  properly  divided 
in  a,  and  in  b  the  first  fourteen  lines  not 
divided  at  all. 

a.  11^  An  stepping.     7^  kind  squire  in  both 
copies. 

b.  5*.  kin's.      . 

9*.  Heal  well,  heal  well  on  me,  Lady  Janet. 
11^.  Stout  stepping. 
12'.  She  turned. 


53 
YOUNG   BEICHAN 


A.  '  Young  Bicham,'  Jamieson-Brown  MS.,  fol.  13,  c. 
1783. 

B.  '  Young  Brechin,'  Glenriddell  MSS,  XI,  80,  1791. 

C.  '  Young  Bekie.'    a.  Jamieson-Brown  MS.,  fol.  11, 
0.  1783.      b.  Jamieson's  Popular  Ballads,  11,  127. 

D.  '  Young  Beachen,'  Skene  MSS,  p.  70,  1802-1803. 

E.  '  Young  Beichan  and  Susie  Pye,'  Jamieson's  Popu- 
lar Ballads,  II,  117. 

F.  '  Susan  Pye  and  Lord  Beichan,'  Pitcairn's  MSS, 
III,  159. 

G.  Communicated  by  Mr  Alex.  Laing,  of  Newburgh- 
on-Tay. 

H.   '  Lord  Beichan  and  Susie  Pye,' Kinloch's  Ancient 
Scottish  Ballads,  p.  260. 


I.  Communicated  by  Mr  David  Loudon,  Morham,  Had- 
dington. 

J.    Dr  Joseph  Robertson's  Note-Book,  '  Adversaria,'  p. 

85. 

K.   Communicated  by  Mr  David  Loudon. 

Ii.  The  Loving  Ballad  of  Lord  Bateman.  Illustrated 
by  George  Cruikshank,  1839. 

M.  '  Young  Bondwell,'  Buchan's  MSS,  I,  18.  J.  H. 
Dixon,  Scottish  Traditional  Versions  of  Ancient  Bal- 
lads, p.  1. 

N.  '  Susan  Py,  or  Young  Bichen's  Garland.'  a.  Fal- 
kirk, printed  by  T.  Johnston,  1815.  b.  Stirling,  M. 
Randall. 


A,  B,  D,  F,  and  the  fragment  G  now  ap- 
pear for  the  first  time  in  print,  and  the  same 
is  true  of  I,  J,  K,  which  are  of  less  account. 


C  a  is  here  given  according  to  the  manuscript, 
without  Jamieson's  "  collations."  Of  E  and 
C   b  Jamieson  says  :    This  ballad  and  that 


454 

10 


11 


A. 

1 

B. 

C. 

c 

D. 
H. 


a. 


H. 


peal 
is  ti 


1 


LORD   BEICHAN. 


^oxtftv  mim. 


EDITED 


BY  JAMES  HENRY  DIXON,  ESQ. 


FROM  THE  lOCAL  HISTORIAN'S  TABLE  BOOK. 


^  etota'Stlf =upon;=Csne: 

M.  A.  RICHARDSON,   44,   GREY    STREET. 

MDCCCXLIII. 


of 
id 

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^., 
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LORD    BEICHAN. 

a  33orifer  JSaHalf. 

N  Jamieson"'s  "  Popular  Ballads  and  Songs," 
vol.  II.  p.  117.  and  127,  are  two  ballads, 
the  one  called  "  Young  Beichan  and  Susie 
Pye,"  and  the  other  called  "  Young 
Bekie."  They  are  both  given  as  "From 
Tradition,"  and  are  versions  of  the  well- 
known  Northumbrian  Ballad,  "  Lord  Bate- 
man."  Jamieson  says  that  the  two  ballads 
"are  given  from  copies  taken  from  Mrs. 
Brown's  recitation,  collated  with  two  other  copies  procured  from 
Scotland,  one  in  MS  ;  another  very  good  one  printed  for  the  stalls  ; 
a  third  in  the  possession  of  the  late  Rev.  Jonathan  Boucher,  of 
Epsom,  taken  from  recitation  in  the  north  of  England ;  and  a 
fourth,  about  one  third  as  long  as  the  others,  which  the  Editor 
picked  off  an  old  wall  [query  stall  ?]  in  Piccadilly."  The  Scottish  copy 
"  printed  for  the  stalls,"  would  probably  be  either  the  Berwick  or 
Stirling  broad  sheet  ballad  of  Lord  Bateman,  both  of  which  vary  but 
slightly  from  the  English  broad  sheets  with  the  same  title,  printed 
by  Hoggett,  Durham ;  and  Pitts,  Catnach,  and  others  in  London. 
Jamieson  remarks,  that  "  it  has  been  suggested  that  the  names  should 
not  be  Beichan,  &c.,  but  Buchan ;  but  as  he  found  them  as  here  given 
in  all  the  copies,"  [MS.  I  presume,  for  I  never  met  in  print  with 
the  name  otherwise  than  Bateman,  except  in  Jamieson''8  book  and 
copies  from  it.]  "  and  as  they  appeared  to  him  to  be  English  Ballads 
slightly  tinctured  with  the  Scottish  dialect,"  [all  Border  Ballads  are 
so]  "he  has  chosen  to  leave  the  titles  as  he  found  them."  Had 
Jamieson  enquired  of  any  of  the  border  peasantry,  the  English  origin 
of  the  ballads,  would  have  soon  been  put  beyond  a  doubt,  and  he 
might  have  been  informed,  as  I  have,  that  the  hero's  name  should 
be  neither  Beichan,  Bekie  nor  Bateman,  but  Bertram,  one  of  that 
ancient  Northiunbrian  line,  of  whom  it  might  at  one  time  have  been 
said,  with  very  little  hyperbole,  "  that  half  Northumberland  belonged 
to  them."  In  a  collection  of  Scottish  Ballads,  edited  by  Robert  Cham- 
bers, esq.,  and  published  by  Tait,  Edinburgh,  1 829,  is  a  version  under 
the  name  of  "  Young  Bekie ;"  it  is  from  a  collation  of  Jamieson's  two 
ballads,  and  Mr.  Chambers  does  not  appear  to  have  examined  the 
broadsheets.  The  following  version  is  formed  from  a  collation  of 
several  broad  sheets,  with  the  two  ballads  in  Jamieson's  book,  and  I 
have  endeavoured  to  make  it  as  correct  as  possible,  by  carefully 
expunging  everything  which  looked  like  modem  interpolation,  and 


»5 


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4 

wherever  I  could  avoid  it,  abstaining  from  conjectural  emendations. 
Whenever  I  had  any  doubt  about  the  true  reading,  from  there  being 
a  variation  in  the  copies  before  me,  I  have  adopted  that  which  seemed 
to  be  most  in  character  with  the  ordinary  style  and  language  of  an- 
tient  English  Ballads,  of  which  old  printed  copies  have  been  handed 
down  to  our  times.  Although  convinced  that  Bertram  is  the  proper 
name  of  the  Hero,  I  have  adopted  "  Beichan  "  from  Jamieson's  copy, 
not  having  met  with  the  name  of  Bertram  in  any  printed  copy.  All 
the  broadsheets  read  "  Bateman,"  but  it  is  so  thoroughly  un-Norih- 
umbrian  that  I  could  not  think  of  perpetuating  the  name  in  the 
Table  Book,  and  have  therefore  chosen  the  more  euphonious  one  of 
Beichan.  While,  however,  I  have  in  one  instance  rejected  the 
authority  of  the  broadsheets,  I  have  in  another  chosen  to  abide  by 
it,  for  the  name  of  the  Turk's  daughter  is  certainly  more  likely  to 
have  been  Saphia  or  Sophia  than  Susie  Pye,  as  given  by  Jamieson  ! 
It  might  be  curious  to  enquire,  supposing  the  hero's  name  to  have 
been  Bertram,  how  it  got  corrupted  to  Beichan,  Bateman  and  Bekie. 
In  the  word  Bertram,  the  letter  II  occurs  twice,  a  letter  which  many 
of  the  Northumbrian  peasantry  have  great  difficulty  to  pronounce  in 
conversation,  and  which  they  have  still  greater  difficulty  to  articulate 
when  singing— this  circumstance  might  have  induced  the  itinerant 
minstrels  of  the  North,  to  select  a  name  to  which  they  could  give 
freer  utterance.  The  ballad  of  Lord  Bateman  has  given  birth  to 
two  modern  specimens  of  literary  waggery,  viz:  "  tE^t  tLofttng; 
JUnUalr  of  ^ortr  JUatftltan,"  with  plates  and  annotations,  by  George 
Cruikshank*  [being  a  copy  of  the  common  English  Broadsheets,  but 
turned  into  the  vernacular  dialect  of  Cockaigne],  and  the  Burlesque 
Drama  of  Lord  Bateman^  produced  at  the  Strand  theatre,  London, 

C.  and  in  which,  a  series  of  tableaux  vivans  after  Cruikshank,  never  fails 

to  convulse  the  audience  with  laughter.  The  Editor  of  Tait's  Mag- 
azine, took  to  task  the  authors  of  the  above  productions,  and 
thought  their  wit  might  have  been  expended  in  a  more  becoming 

B.  I  manner,  than  in  ridicule   of  a  ballad,   which,  notwithstanding  the 

la|  corruptions  of  its  worst  copies,  and  the  absurdities  contained  in  those, 

which  we  may  consider  to  be  the  best,  has  ever  delighted,  and  will 
continue  to  delight,  the  lovers  of  the  simple  unadorned  strains  of  our 
country's  ancient  "  minstrelsie."   The  proper  air  to  which  the  ballad  is 

G.   »  sung,  is  given  by  Cruikshank,  though  with  one  or  two  burlesque  cadenzas. 


A, 

1 

B. 


F.    ' 

II 


on 


H. 


A 

peai 
is  ti 


ToUington  Park,  Middlesex.  Dec.  3,  1842.  J.  H.  Dixon. 


^'^  *  I'ublished  by  Tilt,  London.     Cruikshank  in  this  work  conjectures  that  the  name  of 

thf  heroine  was  suggested  to  the  author,  by  the  mosque  of  SmUa  Sophia  at  Constantino- 
ple—no  doubt  of  it. 


1 


Horlf  miOfm. 


-^ — -*. 


ORD  Beichan  he  was  a  noble  lord, 

A   noble  lord  of  high  degree ; 
He  shipped  himself  on  board  a  ship. 
He  longed  strange  countries  for  to  see.  ^ 

He  sailed  east,  and  he  sailed  west. 
Until  he  came  to  proud  Turkey  ; 
Where  he  was  ta'en  by  a  savage  moor, 
Who  handled  him  right  crueUie. 

For  he  viewed  the  fashions  of  that  land ; 

Their  way  of  worship  viewed  he ; 
But  to  Mahound,  or  Termagant,  ^ 

Would  Beichan  never  bend  a  knee. 


1  Var.  "Some  foreign  country  he  would  go  see.'  Common  English  Broad  Sheet 
Ballad  of  Lord  Bateman. 

2  TermagauTit  was  a  Saracenic  deity  worshipped  by  the  Turks,  before,  and  for  some 
time  after,  the  introduction  of  Mahomedanism.  In  an  old  Norman  MS.  romance  pre- 
served in  the  Bodleian  library,  but  of  which  the  title  is  destroyed,  the  names  of  Tervagan 
(i.  e.  TermagantJ  and  Mahun  (i.  e.  MahometJ  are  placed  in  juxtaposition.  The  same 
thing  occurs  in  Ze  Roman  de  Roncevaux.  The  old  English  writers  frequently  make  their 
monsters  swear  by  Termagaunt,  as  Chaucer  does  in  his  "  rime  of  Sire  Thopas  " 

"  ther  came  a  gret  geaunt, 

Hia  name  was  Sire  OUphaunt 

A  perloua  man  of  de«d ; 

He  sayde,  childe,  by  Termaffauvi,  4c.,  &c." 
In  the  British  islands,  long  after  the  Gods  of  Scandinavia  had  ceased  to  be  worshipped, 
the  inhabitants,  though  they  were  converted  to  Christianity,  believed  the  old  deities  to 
exist  as  evil  spirits;  and  so  it  was  in  the  east — for  many  years  after  the  introduction  of  the 
Mahometan  faith,  its  professors  firmly  believed,  that  the  old  gods  of  their  country,  (of 
whom  Termagaunt  was  one  of  the  chief,)  had  an  existence  as  evil  spirits.  This  super- 
stitious notion  was  embraced  by  the  Crusaders,  who  added  to  it  the  belief,  that  such  evil 
spirits  were  worshipped  by  the  Mahometans,  and  aided  them  in  the  battle  field  !  Ignorant, 
also,  that  the  religion  of  Mahomet  was  strictly  Unitarian,  and  forbade  the  worship  of  any 
but  the  true  God,  they  believed  that  the  Mahometans  not  only  worshiped  evil  spirits,  but 
that  they  paid  divine  honours  to  their  ^ount/er.'  Such  appears  to  have  been  the  general 
opinion  of  the  authors  of  the  old  romances  above  alluded  to,  and  such,  we  may  presume, 
was  the  idea  entertained  by  the  author  of  'Lord  Beichar),'  when  he  represents  his  hero 
as  refusing  to  "bend  a  hne"  either  to  '^Mahound  or  Termagant.'"  The  origin  of  the 
word  Termagant  as  applied  now  to  a  scoldmg  woman,  may  be  easily  deduced  from  the 
above  remarks. 


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So  on  each  shoulder  they've  putten  a  hore; 

In  each  bore  they've  putten  a  tye; 
And  they  have  made  him  trail  the  wine 

And  spices  on  his  fair  bodie.  ^ 

They've  casten  him  in  a  donjon  deep, 
Where  he  could  neither  hear  nor  see; 

For  seven  long  years  they've  kept  him  there. 
Till  he  for  hunger's  like  to  dee. 

And  in  his  prison  a  tree  there  grew, 
So  stout  and  strong  there  grew  a  tree, 

And  unto  it  was  Beichan  chained 
Until  his  life  was  most  weary.  * 

This  Turk  he  had  one  only  daughter — 
Fairer  creature  did  eyes  ne'er  see ; 

And  every  day,  as  she  took  the  air. 
Near  Beichan's  prison  passed  she.  ' 

[And  bonny,  meek,  and  mild  was  she, 
Tho'  she  was  come  of  an  ill  kin ; 

And  oft  she  sighed,  she  knew  not  why, 
For  him  that  lay  the  donjon  in.  *] 


O  so  it  fell  upon  a  day, 
^-  She  heard  young  Beichan  sadly  sing, 

[And  aye  and  ever  in  her  ears, 

The  tones  of  hapless  sorrow  ring.  *] 


1  Jamieson's  copy  reads — In  eveiy  shoulder  they've  putten  a  bore  ; 
In  even/  bore  they've  putten  a  tree  ,- 
1  have  substituted  each  for  every,  and  ti/e  for  tree — the  meaning  I  take  to  be,  that  a  bore 
(i.  e.  a  ring  formed  from  the  perforated  trunk  of  a  tree)  was  placed  on  each  shoulder,  to 
jj  which  were  affixed  tyes  or  ropes.     In  fact  he  was  harnessed,  and  made  to  do  the  work  of 

a  horse. 

^    C.  Eng.  B,  S.  Lord  Bateman — This  verse  is  sadly  mutilated  heie,  and  the  rhythm 
wholly  destroyed. 

3  Jamieson's  copy — This  Moor  he  had  but  ae  daughter, 
Her  name  was  called  Susie  Pye. 
c.  In   "Young  Bekie,"  France  is  the  scene  of  the  captivity,  and  the    heroine  is    called 

'  Burd  Mel" 
■i   This  verse  was  added  by  Jamieson. 
A,  •■'   Added  by  Jamieson. 


1)5 


"  My  hounds  they  all  go  masterless  ; 

My  hawks  they  flee  from  tree  to  tree ; 
My  younger  brother  will  heir  my  land, 

Fair  England  again  I'll  never  see," 

And  all  night  long  no  rest  she  got 

Young  Beichan's  song  for  thinking  on ; 

She's  stown  the  keys  from  her  father's  head 
And  to  the  prison  strong  is  gone.  ^ 

And  she  has  ope'd  the  prison  doors, 

I  wot  she  opened  two  or  three, 
Ere  she  could  come  young  Beichan  at. 

He  was  locked  up  so  curiouslie. 

But  when  she  came  young  Beichan  before. 
Sore  wondered  he  that  maid  to  see — 

He  took  her  for  some  fair  captive — 

"  Fair  Ladye  I  pray  of  what  countrie  ?  " 

"  Have  you  got  houses  ?  have  you  got  lands  ? 

Or  does  Northumberland  'long  to  thee  ? 
What  could  ye  give  to  the  fair  young  ladye 

That  out  of  prison  would  set  you  free "?' 

"  I  have  got  houses,  I  have  got  lands, 
And  half  Northumberland  'longs  to  me — 

I'll  give  them  all  to  the  ladye  fair, 
That  out  of  prison  will  set  me  free. 

Near  London  town  I  have  a  hall, 
With  other  castles,  two  or  three ; 

I'll  give  them  all  to  the  ladye  fair. 
That  out  of  prison  will  set  me  free." 


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1  Lord  Bateman's  song  for  thinking  on. 

All  night  long  no  rest  got  she. 
She  stole  the  keys  of  her's  father  prison 
And  swore  Lord  Bateman  she  would  set  free.     Scotch  B.  S, 

2  O  have  ye  any  lands  she  said 

Or  castles  in  your  own  countrie?    Jamieson'scopy. 


the 
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"  Give  me  the  troth  of  your  right  hand, 

The  troth  of  it  give  unto  me ;  i 
That  for  seven  years  ye'll  no  ladye  wed, 
11    ■  Unless  it  be  along  with  me." 

"  I'll  give  thee  the  troth  of  my  right  hand, 
The  troth  of  it  I'll  freely  gie ; 
A.  f  That  for  seven  years  I'll  stay  unwed. 

For  kindness  thou  dost  shew  to  me."  ^ 

B-  And  she  has  brib'd  the  proud  warder. 

With  golden  store  and  white  monie ; 
She's  gotten  the  keys  of  the  prison  strong, 
And  she  has  set  young  Beichan  free. 

She's  gi'en  him  to  eat  the  good  spice  cake; 

She  gi'en  him  to  drink  the  blood  red  wine ;  ^ 
And  every  health  she  drank  unto  him— 

"  I  wish  Lord  Beichan  that  you  were  mine," 
And  she's  bidden  him  sometimes  think  on  her 

That  so  kindly  freed  him  out  of  pine. 

She's  broken  a  ring  from  her  finger, 
And  to  Beichan  half  of  it  gave  she — 

"  Keep  it  to  mind  you  of  that  love 
The  lady  bore  that  set  you  free." 


A. 

1 


B.  O  she  took  him  to  her  father's  harbour 

And  a  ship  of  fame  to  him  gave  she ; 
"  Farewell,  farewell  to  you  lord  Beichan, 
Shall  I  e'er  again  you  see  ?  * 


C. 

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Set  your  foot  on  the  good  ship  board. 
And  haste  ye  back  to  your  own  countrie; 


'   Truth.    Jamieson's  copy. 

-   This,  and  the  verse  preceding  it,  are  complete  nonsense  in  both  the  English  and 
Scotch  Broad  Sheets.     I  follow  .Jamieson's  copy. 
S  "  And  gave  to  him  the  best  of  wine."     C  Eng.  B.  S. 

^  "  O  she  took  him  to  her  father's  harbour, 
And  gave  to  him  a  ship  of  fame ; 
Farewell,  farewell  to  you  Lord  Bateman, 
I'm  afraid  I  ne'er  shall  see  you  again."     C.  Eng,  B.  S. 


And  before  seven  years  have  an  end, 
Come  back  again  love  and  marry  me." 

Now  seven  long  years  are  gone  and  past, 
And  sore  she  long'd  her  love  to  see ; 

For  ever  a  voice,  within  her  breast, 

Said  "  Beichan  has  broken  his  vow  to  thee." 

So  she's  set  her  foot  on  the  good  ship  board, 
And  turned  her  back  on  her  own  countrio.  ' 

She  sailed  east,  she  sailed  west, 

Till  to  fair  England's  shore  came  she; 

Where  a  bonnie  shepherd  she  espied 
Feeding  his  sheep  upon  the  lea. 

"  What  news,  what  news,  thou  bonnie  shepherd  ? 

What  news  hast  thou  to  tell  to  me  ?  " 
"  Such  news  I  hear  ladye,"  he  said — 

The  like  was  never  in  this  countrie." 

There  is  a  wedding  in  yonder  hall, 
[I  hear  the  sound  of  the  minstrelsie,] 

But  young  Lord  Beichan  slights  his  bride. 
For  love  of  one  that's  ayond  the  sea."  ^ 

She's  putten  her  hand  in  her  pocket, 
Gi'en  him  the  gold  and  white  monie  ; 

"  Here  take  ye  that  my  bonnie  boy, 
For  the  good  news  thou  tell'st  to  me." 

When  she  came  to  Lord  Beichan's  gate. 

She  tirled  softly  at  the  pin  ; 
And  ready  was  the  proud  warder 

To  open  and  let  this  ladye  in. 

When  she  came  to  Lord  Beichan's  castle. 
So  boldly  she  rang  the  bell — 

1   She  pack'd  up  all  her  gay  cloathing. 

And  swore  Lord  Bateraan  she  would  go  see."     Ibid. 
-    In  Jamieson's  copy,  we  are  told  that  the  wedding  "  Has  lasted  thirty  days  and  three.' 
But  this  does  not  agree  with  the  porter's  saying  in  a  subsequent  verse,  "This  is  the  day 
of  his  weddin."      1  have  therefore  inserted  the  passage  in  brackets  to  make  the  story 
more  consistent. 


t^ 


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"  Who's  there,  who's  there,  cried  the  proud  porter, 
"  Who's  there,  unto  me  come  tell." 

II  "  O  is  this  lord  Beichan's  castle, 

f^  Or  is  that  noble  lord  within?" 

"  Yea  he  is  in  the  hall  among  them  all, 
^  And  this  is  the  day  of  his  weddin." 

"And  has  he  wed  anither  love — 
And  has  he  clean  forgotten  me?" 

And  sighing  said  that  ladje  gay, 

"  I  wish  I  was  in  my  own  countrie." 

And  she  has  ta'en  her  gay  gold  ring, 
That  with  her  love  she  brake  so  free; 

"  Gie  him  that  ye  proud  porter. 

And  bid  the  bridegroom  speak  to  me. 

Tell  him  to  send  me  a  slice  of  bread. 
And  a  cup  of  blood  red  wine, 

And  not  to  forget  the  fair  young  lady 
That  did  release  him  out  of  pine."  ^ 

Away,  and  away  went  the  proud  porter. 
Away,  and  away,  and  away  went  he, 

Until  he  came  to  Lord  Beichan's  presence — 
J  Down  he  fell  on  his  bended  knee. 

"  What  aileth  thee,  my  proud  porter, 
<  Thou  art  so  full  of  courtesie." 

,  I've  been  porter  at  your  gates — 

I  ts  thirty  long  years  now  and  three. 
But  there  stands  a  ladye  at  them  now, 
The  like  of  her  I  ne'er  did  see." 

For  on  every  finger  she  has  a  ring. 
',  And  on  lier  mid-finger  she  has  three; 

1    J  iiie — i^u\0:,yiief. 

"  V\'ell  1  wotc  that  in  this  world  gret  pine  is." 

Chaucer.     The  Kiiighte's  Tale,  liiit  i;i2ti. 
"  who  coude  siij)po8e 
The  wo  that  in  niin  herte  was  and  the  pine? 

Chaucer,     Wif  of  Bathe,  Ifne  63C9. 


ys. 


II 

And  as  much  gay  gold  above  her  brow 

As  would  an  earldom  buy  to  me : 
And  as  much  gay  cloathing  round  about  her 

As  would  buy  all  Northumberlea."  ^ 

Its  out  then  spak  the  bride's  mother — 
Aye  and  an  angry  woman  was  she — 

"  Ye  might  have  excepted  the  bonnie  bride. 
And  two  or  three  of  our  companie." 

"  O  hold  your  tongue  ye  silly  frow, 

Of  all  your  folly  let  me  be  ; 
She's  ten  times  fairer  than  the  bride, 

And  all  that's  in  your  companie. 

She  asks  one  sheave  of  my  lord's  white  bread, 

And  a  cup  of  his  red,  red  wine ; 
And  to  remember  the  ladye'slove, 

I'hat  kindly  freed  him  out  of  pine." 

Lord  Beichan  then  in  a  passion  flew, 
And  broke  his  sword  in  splinters  three ; 

"  O  well  a  day  "  did  Beichan  say, 

"  That  1  so  soon  have  married  thee — 

For  it  can  be  none  but  dear  Saphia, 

That's  cross'd  the  deep  for  love  of  me."  * 

And  quickly  hied  he  down  the  stair. 

Of  fifteen  steps  he  made  but  three ; 
He's  ta'en  his  bonnie  love  in  his  arms, 

And  kist,  and  kist  her  tenderly. 

"  O  have  ye  taken  another  bride, 

And  have  ye  quite  forgotten  me  ? 
And  have  ye  quite  forgotten  one 

That  gave  you  life  and  liberty." 

1  Northumber&a— this  is  for  the  sake  of  the  rhyme  In  the  ballad  as  originaUy  written 
1  think  it  probable  that  all  the  verses  terminated  in  such  syllables  Si&lea,ie,ee,  &c.  &c. 
This  verse  was  a  particular  favourite  with  the  late  Allan  Cunningham,  who  would  often 
quote  It  to  his  friends;  he  has  introduced  it  in  his  beautiful  prose  tale  of  "Gowden 
Gibbie." 

-  "  1  will  give  all  my  father's  riches, 

That  if  Sophia  has  cross'd  the  sea."     C.  Lng.  B.  S.  Lord  Bateman. 


\  '• 


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She  looked  o'er  her  left  shoulder, 

To  hide  the  tears  stood  in  her  ee; 
"  Now  fare-thee-well  young  Beichan,"  she  says, 

"  I'll  try  to  think  no  more  on  thee," 

"O  never,  never  my  Saphia, 

For  surely  this  can  never  be ; 
Nor  ever  shall  I  wed  but  her 

That's  done  and  dreed  so  much  for  me." 

Then  out  and  spake  the  forenoon  bride, 
"  My  Lord  your  love  it  changeth   soon ; 

This  morning  I  was  made  your  bride, 
And  another's  chose,  ere  it  be  noon." 

"  O  sorrow  not,  thou  forenoon  bride. 

Our  hearts  could  ne'er  united  be ; 
Ye  must  return  to  your  own  countrie, 

A  double  dower  I'll  send  with  thee." 

And  up  and  spake  the  young  bride's  mother. 
Who  never  was  heard  to  speak  so  free — 

"  And  so  you  treat  my  only  daughter. 
Because   Saphia  has  cross'd  the  sea." 

"  I  own  I  made  a  bride  of  your  daughter. 

She  ne'er  a  whit  the  worse  can  be. 
She  came  to  me  with  her  horse  and  saddle. 

She  may  go  back  in  her  coach  and  three." 

He's  ta'en  Saphia  by  the  white  hand. 

And  gently  led  her  up  and  down ; 
And  aye  as  he  kist  her  rosy  lips, 

"  Ye're  welcome  dear  one  to  your  own." 

He's  ta'en  her  by  the  milk  white  hand 
And  led  her  to  yon  fountain  stane ;  ^ 

'  By  '^fountain  stane  "  is  meant  one  of  thoso  natural  rocky  basins,  which  the  early 
British  christians  consecrated  as  baptisteries,  and  dedicated  to  the  Virgin,  or  some  of  the 
saints.  Converts  from  heathenism  were  not  allowed  to  enter  the  churches,  unless  the 
rite  of  baptism  by  immersion  had  been  previously  submitted  to  at  these  sacred  wells. 
The  "Ladye  wells"  mentioned  in  the  first  volume  of  the  Table  Book,  were  of  the  same 
description. 


<, 


13 


Her  name  he's  changed  from  Saphia, 
And  he's  called  his  bonnie  love  Lady  Jane. 

Lord  Beichan  prepared  another  marriage, 
And  sang  with  heart,  so  full  of  glee, 

"  I'll  range  no  more  in  foreign  countrieSj 
Now  since  my  love  has  cross'd  the  sea." 


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53,    YOUKG  BEICHAN 


455 


which  succeeds  it  are  given  from  copies  taken 
from  Mrs  Brown's  recitation,*  collated  with 
two  other  copies  procured  from  Scotland  ;  one 
in  MS. ;  another,  very  good,  one  printed  for 
the  stalls ;  a  third,  in  the  possession  of  the 
late  Reverend  Jonathan  Boucher,  of  Epsom, 
taken  from  recitation  in  the  north  of  England  ; 
and  a  fourth,  about  one  third  as  long  as  the 
others,  which  the  editor  picked  off  an  old  wall 
in  Piccadilly.  L,  the  only  English  copy,  was 
derived  from  the  singing  of  a  London  vagrant. 
It  is,  says  Dixon,  the  common  English  broad- 
sheet "  turned  into  the  dialect  of  Cockaigne."  f 
M  was  probably  a  broadside  or  stall  copy,  and 
is  certainly  of  that  quality,  but  preserves  a 
very  ancient  traditional  feature. 

D  and  M,  besides  the  name  Linne,  have  in 
common  a  repetition  of  the  song,  a  trait  which 
we  also  find  in  one  version  of  '  The  Heir  of 
Linne  ; '  J  see  Dixon's  Scottish  Traditional 
Versions  of  Ancient  Ballads,  p.  30,  stanzas 
2-6,  Percy  Society,  vol.  xvii. 

In  Bell's  Ancient  Poems,  Ballads,  and 
Songs  of  the  Peasantry  of  England,  p.  68,  it  is 
remarked  that  L,  "  the  only  ancient  form  in 
which  the  ballad  has  existed  in  print,"  is  one 
of  the  publications  mentioned  in  one  of  Thack- 
eray's catalogues  of  broadsides.  The  '  Bate- 
man,'  in  Thackeray's  list,  is  the  title  of  an 
entirely  different  ballad,  '  A  "Warning  for 
Maidens,  or  Young  Bateman,'  reprinted  from 
the  Roxburghe  collection  by  W.  Chappell,  III, 
193. 

"  Young  Beichan  "  is  a  favorite  ballad,  and 
most  deservedly.  There  are  beautiful  repeti- 
tions of  the  story  in  the  ballads  of  other  na- 
tions, and  it  has  secondary  affinities  with  the 


extensive  cycle  of  '  Hind  Horn,'  the  parts  of 
the  principal  actoi"s  in  the  one  being  inverted 
in  the  other. 

The  hero's  name  is  mostly  Beichan,  with 
slight  modifications  like  Bekie,  C,  Bicham,  A, 
Brechin,  B ;  in  L,  Bateman  ;  in  M,  Bondwell. 
The  heroine  is  Susan  Pye  in  ten  of  the  four- 
teen versions  ;  Isbel  in  C ;  Essels,  evidently 
a  variety  of  Isbel,  in  M,  which  has  peculiar 
relations  with  C ;  Sophia  in  K,  L. 

Beichan  is  London  born  in  A,  D,  [B],  H,  I,  ^ 
N,  English  born  in  B ;  London  city  is  his  own, 
A  6,  B  7,  F  7,  or  he  has  a  hall  there,  I  7,  N 
27  f . ;  half  Northumberland  belongs  to  him,  L ; 
he  is  lord  of  the  towers  of  Line,  D  9,  C  5,  M  5, 
which  are  in  London,  D  15  f,  but  are  trans- 
ferred by  reciters  to  the  water  of  Tay,  M  29, 
and  to  Glasgow,  or  the  vicinity,  H  20.  H, 
though  it  starts  with  calling  him  London  born, 
speaks  of  him  thereafter  as  a  Scottish  lord,  12, 
18,  31.§ 

Beichan  has  an  Englishman's  desire  strange 
countries  for  to  see.  A,  D,  [E],  I,  L,  N.  In 
C,  M  he  goes  abroad,  Quentiu  Durward  fash- 
ion, not  to  gratify  his  taste  for  travel,  but  to 
serve  for  meat  and  fee.  P  makes  him  go  to 
the  Holy  Land,  without  specifying  his  motive, 
but  we  may  fairly  suppose  it  religious.  C 
sends  him  no  further  than  France,  and  M  to 
an  unnamed  foreign  land.  He  becomes  the 
slave  of  a  Moor  or  Turk,  A,  B,  D,  H,  I,  L,  N,  - 
or  a  "  Prudent,"  P,  who  treats  him  cruelly. 
They  bore  his  shoulders  and  put  in  a  "  tree," 
and  make  him  draw  carts,  like  horse  or  ox,  A, 
B,  D,  [E],  H ;  draw  plough  and  harrow,  P, 
plough  and  cart,  N ;  or  tread  the  wine-press, 
I.     This  is  because  he  is  a  staunch  Chi'istian,   ^ 


•  Mr  Macmath  has  ascertained  that  Mrs  Brown  was  bom 

in  1747.     She  learned  most  of  her  ballads  before  she  was 

twelve  years  old,  or  before  1759.     1783,  or  a  litlle  earlier,  is 

the  date  when  these  copies  were  taken  down  from  lier  sing- 

\  ing  or  recitation. 

t  The  Borderer's  Table  Book,  Vll,  21.  Dixon  says,  a 
little  before,  that  the  Stirling  broadside  of  '  Lord  Bateman ' 
varies  but  slightly  from  the  English  printed  by  Hoggett, 
Durham,  and  Pitts,  Catnach,  and  others,  London.  This  is 
not  true  of  the  Stirling  broadside  of  '  Young  Bichen  : '  see 
N  b.  I  did  not  notice,  until  too  late,  that  I  had  not  fur- 
nished myself  with  the  broadside  '  Lord  Bateman,'  and  have 
been  obliged  to  turn  back  the  Craikshank  copy  into  ordi- 
nary orthography. 


%  We  have  this  repetition  in  two  other  ballads  of  the 
Skene  MSS  besides  D  ;  see  p.  316  of  this  volume,  sts  1-9  ; 
also  in  '  The  Lord  of  Leame,'  Percy  MS.,  Hales  and  Fumi- 
vall,  I,  192f,vv  269-304. 

§  "  An  old  woman  who  died  in  Errol,  Carse  of  Gowric, 
about  twenty  years  ago,  aged  nearly  ninety  years,  was  wont 
invariably  to  sing  this  ballad :  '  Young  Lundie  was  in 
Brechin  born.'  Lundie  is  an  estate  now  belonging  to  the 
Earl  of  Caraperdoun,  north  from  Dundee."  A.  Laing,  note 
to  G.  That  is  to  say,  the  old  woman's  world  was  Forfar- 
shire. 

Mr  Logan  had  heard  in  Scotland  a  version  in  which  the 
hero  was  called  Lord  Bangol :  A  Pedlar's  Pack,  p.  15. 


456 


53.    YOUNG  BEICHAN 


^ 


( 


h-' 


and  would  never  bend  a  knee  to  Mahound  or 
Termagant,  B,  or  onie  of  their  stocks,  H, 
or  gods,  I.  They  cast  him  into  a  dungeon, 
where  he  can  neither  hear  nor  see,  and  he 
is  nigh  perishing  with  hunger.  This,  also,  is 
done  in  H  5,  on  account  of  his  perseverance 
.'""i  *  /Th*^  ^^  Christianity;  but  in  C,  M  he  is  imprisoned 
'  for  falling  in  love  with  the  king's  daughter,  or 
other  lovely  may. 

From  his  prison  Beichan  makes  his  moan 
(not  to  a  stock  or  a  stone,  but  to  the  Queen 
of  Heaven,  D  4).  His  hounds  go  masterless, 
his  hawks  flee  from  tree  to  tree,  his  younger 
brother  will  heir  his  lands,  and  he  shall  never 
see  home  again,  B,  H.  If  a  lady  [earl]  would 
borrow  him,  he  would  run  at  her  stirrup  [foot, 
bridle]  ;  if  a  widow  [auld  wife]  would  borrow 
him,  he  would  become  her  son ;  and  if  a  maid 
would  borrow  him,  he  would  wed  her  with  a 
ring,  C,  D,  M,  B.*  The  only  daughter  of  the 
Moor,  Turk,  or  king  (of  a  '  Savoyen,'  B  5, 
perhaps  a  corruption  of  Saracen),  already  in- 
terested in  the  captive,  or  immediately  be- 
coming so  upon  hearing  Beichan's  song,  asks 
him  if  he  has  lauds  and  means  at  home  to 
maintain  a  lady  that  should  set  him  free,  and 
is  told  that  he  has  ample  estates,  all  of  which 
he  would  bestow  on  such  a  lady,  A,  B,  B,  F, 
H,  L,  N.  She  steals  the  keys  and  delivers 
the  prisoner,  C,  D,  B,  I,  J,  L,  M,  N ;  refreshes 
him  with  bread  and  wine  [wine],  A,  D,  E,  P, 
J  4,  K  3,  B,  H,  L  ;  supplies  him  with  money, 
C  9,  H  15,  M  12,  N  14,  and  with  a  ship,  F  9, 
H  18,  L  9 ;  to  which  C,  M  add  a  horse  and 
hounds  [and  hawks,  M].  She  bids  him  mind 
on  the  lady's  love  that  freed  him  out  of  pine, 
A  8,  D  12,  [B  13],  M  14,  N  15,  and  in  E  16 
breaks  a  ring  from  her  finger,  and  gives  half 
of  it  to  Beichan  to  assist  his  memory.  There 
is  a  solemn  vow,  or  at  least  a  clear  understand- 
ing, that  they  are  to  marry  within  seven  years, 
A  9,  B  9,  E  12  f.,  H  17,  19,  L  8,  N  11  [three 
years,  C  11]. 

When  seven  years  are  at  an  end,  or  even 
before,  Susan  Pye  feels  a  longing,  or  a  mis- 


giving, which  impels  her  to  go  in  search  of  the 
object  of  her  affections,  and  she  sets  her  foot 
on  good  shipboard,  and  turns  her  back  on  her 
own  country,  A  10,  B  10,  D  15,  L  10,  N  23.t 
C  and  M  preserve  here  a  highly  important  fea- 
ture which  is  wanting  in  the  other  versions. 
Isbel,  or  Essels,  is  roused  from  her  sleep  by 
the  Billy  Blin,  C  14,  by  a  woman  in  green, 
a  fairy,  M  15,  who  makes  kno^vn  to  her  that 
that  very  day,  or  the  morn,  is  Bekie's  [Bond- 
well's]  wedding  day.  She  is  directed  to  attire 
herself  and  her  maids  very  splendidly,  and  go 
to  the  strand ;  a  vessel  will  come  sailing  to 
her,  and  they  are  to  go  on  board.  The  Billy 
Blin  will  row  her  over  the  sea,  C  19  ;  she  will 
stroke  the  ship  with  a  wand,  and  take  God  to 
be  her  pilot,  M  19.  Thus,  by  miraculous  in- 
tervention, she  arrives  at  the  nick  of  time. 

Beichan's  fickleness  is  not  accounted  for  in 
most  of  the  versions.  He  soon  forgot  his  de- 
liverer and  courted  another,  he  was  young, 
and  thought  not  upon  Susan  Pye,  say  H,  N. 
C,  on  the  contrary,  tells  us  that  Beichan  had 
not  been  a  twelvemonth  in  his  own  country, 
when  he  was  forced  to  marry  a  duke's  daugh- 
ter or  lose  all  his  land.  E  and  K  intimate  that 
he  acts  under  constraint ;  the  wedding  has 
lasted  three  and  thirty  days,  and  he  will  not 
bed  with  his  bride  for  love  of  one  beyond  the 
sea,  B  21,  K  l.J 

On  landing,  Susan  Pye  falls  in  with  a  shep- 
herd feeding  his  flock,  E,  K  [a  boy  watering 
his  steeds,  M].  She  asks.  Whose  are  these 
sheep,  these  kye,  these  castles  ?  and  is  told  they 
are  Lord  Beichan's,  G.  She  asks  the  news, 
and  is  informed  that  there  is  a  wedding  in 
yonder  hall  that  has  lasted  thirty  days  and 
three,  B,  K,  or  that  there  is  to  be  a  wedding 
on  the  morn,  M  ;  it  seems  to  be  a  matter  gen- 
erally known,  N.  In  other  versions  she  comes 
directly  to  Young  Beichan's  hall,  and  is  first 
informed  by  the  porter.  A,  B,  F,  H,  L,  or  the 
fact  is  confirmed  by  the  porter,  E,  M,  N  ;  she 
hears  the  music  within,  and  divines,  C.  She 
bribes  the  porter  to  bid  the  bridegroom  come 


*  Cf. '  The  Fair  Flower  of  Northumberland,'  B  2,  E  2,      or  wrath  of  her  father,  P,  M,  J,  N,  and  in  the  first  two  hag 
pp  115  f.  to  use  artifice. 

t  She  does  not  get  away  without  exciting  the  solicitude  t  A  point  borrowed,  it  well  may  be,  from  '  Hind  Horn,'    V 

E  5  f,  A  10. 


53.    YOUNG  BEICHAN 


45"; 


N 


and  speak  to  lier,  A,  B,  C,  D,  J,  N ;  send  her 
down  bread  and  wine,  and  not  forget  the  lady 
who  brought  him  out  of  prison,  B,  F,  H,  J, 
K,  L.  In  E  26  she  sends  up  her  half  ring  to 
the  bridegroom  [a  ring  in  N  40,  but  not  till 
Beichan  has  declined  to  come  down]. 

The  porter  falls  on  his  knee  and  informs 
his  master  that  the  fairest  and  richest  lady 
that  eyes  ever  saw  is  at  the  gate  [ladies,  C, 
M].  Tlie  bride,  or  the  bride's  mother  more 
commonly,  reproves  the  porter  for  his  graceless 
speech  ;  he  might  have  excepted  the  bride,  or 
her  mother,  or  both :  "  Gin  she  be  braw  with- 
out, we's  be  as  braw  within."  But  the  porter 
is  compelled  by  truth  to  persist  in  his  alle- 
gation ;  fair  as  they  maj'  be,  they  were  never 
to  compare  with  yon  lady,  B,  D,  B,  H,  M. 
Beichan  takes  the  table  with  his  foot  and 
makes  the  cups  and  cans  to  flee,  B  18,  D  23, 
F  28,  G  3,  H  47,  J  5,  N  42 ;  *  he  exclaims 
that  it  can  be  none  but  Susie  Pye,  A,  B,  D, 
G,  H,  I  [Burd  Isbel,  C],  and  clears  the  stair, 
fifteen  steps,  thirty  steps,  in  three  bounds, 
A  19,  D  24,  N  43.  His  old  love  reproaches 
him  for  his  forgetfuliiess.  A,  C,  D,  M,  N ;  f 
she  asks  back  her  faith  and  troth,  B  21. 
Beichan  bids  the  forenoon  bride's  mother  take 
back  her  daughter  :  he  will  double  her  dowry, 
A  22,  D  27,  B  39 ;  she  came  on  horseback, 
she  shall  go  back  in  chariots,  coaches,  three, 
B  22,  D   27$  [H  49,  in  chariot  free].     He 

•  So  Torello's  wife  upsets  the  table,  in  Boccaccio's  storr : 
seep.  198.  One  of  her  Slavic  kinswomeD  jumps  over  four 
tables  and  lights  on  a  fifth. 

t  In  C  34,  M  49,  she  is  recognized  by  one  of  the  hounds 
which  she  had  given  him.  So  Bos,  seigneur  de  Benac,  who 
breaks  a  ring  with  his  wife,  goes  to  the  East,  and  is  prisoner 
among  the  Saracens  seven  years,  on  coming  back  is  recog- 
nized only  by  his  greyhound:  Magasin  Pittoresqiie,  VI, 
56  b.     It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  scent  the  Odyssey  here. 

I  Ridiculously  changed  in  J  6,  E  6,  L  20,  to  a  coach  and 
three,  reminding  us  of  that  master-stroke  in  Thacker.iy's 
ballad  of  'Little  Billee,'  "a  captain  of  a  seventy-three." 
•  Little  Billee,'  by  the  way,  is  really  like  an  old  ballad,  fallen 
on  evil  days  and  evil  tongues;  whereas  the  serious  imitations 
of  traditional  ballads  are  not  the  least  like,  and  yet,  in  their 
way,  are  often  not  less  ludicrous. 

§  In  M,  to  make  everything  pleasant,  Bondwell  offers  the 
bride  five  hundred  pounds  to  marry  his  cousin  John.  She 
says,  Keep  your  money ;  John  was  my  first  love.  So  Bond- 
well  is  married  at  early  morn,  and  John  in  the  afternoon. 

II  Harleian  MS.  2277,  from  which  the  life  of  Beket,  in 
long  couplets,  was  printed  by  Mr  W.  U.  Black  for  the 
Percy  Society,  In  1845.    The  story  of  Gilbert  Beket  is  con- 

S8 


marries  Susie  Pye,  having  her  baptized  by  the 
name  of  Lady  jean,  A,  B,  D,  [B],  P,  I,  J.§ 

This  story  of  Beichan,  or  Bekie,  agrees  in 
the  general  outline,  and  also  in  some  details, 
with  a  well-known  legend  about  Gilbert  Beket, 
father  of  St  Thomas.  The  earlier  and  more 
authentic  biogi'apliies  lack  this  particular  bit 
of  romance,  but  the  legend  nevertheless  goes 
back  to  a  date  not  much  later  tlian  a  century 
after  the  death  of  the  saint,  being  found  in  a 
poetical  narrative  preserved  in  a  manuscript 
of  about  1300.  |] 

We  learn  from  this  legend  that  Gilbert 
Beket,  in  his  youth,  assumed  the  cross  and 
went  to  the  Holy  Land,  accompanied  only  by 
one  Richard,  his  servant.  They  "did  their  pil- 
grimage" in  holy  places,  and  at  last,  with  other 
Christians,  were  made  captive  by  the  Saracens 
and  put  in  strong  prison.  They  suffered  great 
hardship  and  ignominy  in  the  service  of  the 
Saracen  prince  Admiraud.  But  Gilbert  found 
more  grace  than  the  rest ;  he  was  promoted 
to  serve  the  prince  at  meat  (in  his  chains),  and 
the  prince  often  would  ask  him  about  England 
and  the  English  faith.  Admiraud's  only  daugh- 
ter fell  in  love  with  Gilbert,  and  when  she 
saw  her  time,  in  turn  asked  him  the  like  ques- 
tions. Gilbert  told  her  that  he  was  born  in 
London  ;  told  her  of  the  belief  of  Christians, 
and  of  the  endless  bliss  that  should  be  their 
meed.     The  maid  asked  him  if  he  was  ready 

tained  in  the  first  150  vv.     The  style  of  this  composition  en-  / 
tirely  resembles  that  of  Robert  of  Gloucester,  and  portions  ' 
of    the   life  of    Beket  are  identical   with   the   Chronicle ; 
whence  Mr  Black  plausibly  argues  that  both  are   by  the  l 
same  hand.     The  account  of  Beket's  parentage  is  intcrpo-  / 
lated  into  Edward  Grim's  Life,  in  Cotton  MS.   Vitellius, 
C,  XII,  from  which  it  is  printed  by  Robertson,  Materials  for 
the  History  of  Thomas  Becket,  II,  453  fF.     It  is  found  in 
Bromton's  Chronicle,  Twysden,  Scriptores  X,  columns  1052- 
55,  and  in  the  First  Quadrilogus,  Paris,  1495,  from  which 
it   is   reprinted   by  Migne,  Patrologioe   Cursus  Completus, 
CXC,  cols  346  ff.     The  tale  has  been  accepted  by  many  writ-    ^ 
ers  who  would  have  been  better  historians  for  a  little  reading 
of  romances.     Augustin  Thierry  sees  in  Thomas  Beket  a 
Saxon  contending  in  high  place,  for  the  interests  and  with 
the  natural  hatred  of  his  race,  against  Norman  Henry,  just 
as  he  finds  in  the  yeoman  Robin  Hood  a  leader  of  Sitxon 
serfs  engaged  in  irregular  war  with  Norman  Richard.     But 
both  of  St  Thomas's  parents  were  Norman ;  the  father  of 
Rouen,  the  mother  of  Caen.     The  legend  was  introduced  by 
Lawrence  Wade,  following  John  of  Exeter,  into  a  metrical 
life  of  Beket  of  about  the  year  1500  :  see  the  poem  in  Eng- 
lische  Studien,  III,  417,  edited  by  Horstmann.  , 


458 


53.    YOUNG  BEICHAN 


to  die.  for  his  Lord's  love,  and  Gilbert  de- 
clared that  he  would,  joyfully.  When  the 
maid  saw  that  he  was  so  steadfast,  she  stood 
long  in  thought,  and  then  said,  I  will  quit  all 
for  love  of  thee,  and  become  Christian,  if  tliou 
wilt  marry  me.  Gilbert  feared  that  this  might 
be  a  wile  ;  he  replied  that  he  was  at  lier  dis- 
position, but  he  must  bethink  himself.  She 
went  on  loving  him,  the  longer  the  more. 
After  this  Gilbert  and  the  rest  broke  prison 
and  made  their  way  to  the  Christians.  The 
prince's  daughter,  reduced  to  desperation  by 
love  and  grief,  left  her  heritage  and  her  kin, 
sparing  for  no  sorrow,  peril,  or  contempt  that 
might  come  to  her,  not  knowing  whither  to  go 
or  whether  he  would  marry  lier  when  found, 
and  went  in  quest  of  Gilbert.  She  asked  tiie 
•way  to  England,  and  when  she  had  come  there 
had  no  word  but  London  to  assist  her  further. 
She  roamed  through  the  streets,  followed  by 
a  noisy  and  jeering  crowd  of  wild  boys  and 
what  not,  until  one  day  by  chance  she  stopped 
by  the  house  in  which  Gilbert  lived.  The  man 
Richard,  hearing  a  tumult,  came  out  to  see 
what  was  the  matter,  recognized  the  princess, 
and  ran  to  tell  his  master.*  Gilbert  bade 
Richard  take  the  lady  to  the  house  of  a  re- 
spectable woman  near  by,  and  presently  went 
to  see  her.  She  swooned  when  she  saw  him. 
Gilbert  was  nothing  if  not  discreet :  he  "  held 
him  still,"  as  if  he  had  nothing  in  mind.  But 
there  was  a  conference  of  six  bishops  just  then 
at  St.  Paul's,  and  he  went  and  told  them  his 
story  and  asked  advice.  One  of  the  six  pro- 
phetically saw  a  divine  indication  that  the  two 


were  meant  to  be  married,  and  all  finally  rec- 
ommended this  if  the  lady  would  become 
Christian.  Brought  before  the  bishops,  she 
said.  Most  gladly,  if  he  will  espouse  me ;  else 
I  had  not  left  my  kin.  She  was  baptized  ^ 
with  great  ceremony,  and  the  marriage  fol- 
lowed. 

The  very  day  after  the  wedding  Gilbert 
was  seized  with  such  an  overmastering  desire 
to  go  back  to  the  Holy  Land  that  he  wist  not 
what  to  do.  But  his  wife  was  thoroughly 
converted,  and  after  a  struggle  with  hei'self 
she  consented,  on  condition  that  Beket  should 
leave  with  her  the  man  Richard,  who  knew 
her  language.  Gilbert  was  gone  three  years 
and  a  half,  and  when  he  came  back  Thomas 
Avas  a  fine  boy. 

That  our  ballad  has  been  affected  by  the 
legend  of  Gilbert  Beket  is  altogether  likely.  / 
The  name  Bekie  is  very  close  to  Beket,  and 
several  versions,  A,  D,  H,  I,  N,  set  out  rather 
formally  with  the  announcement  that  Bekie 
was  London  born,  like  the  Latin  biographies 
and  the  versified  one  of  Garnier  de  Pont  Sainte 
Maxence.  Our  ballad,  also,  in  some  versions, 
has  the  Moor's  daughter  baptized,  a  point 
which  of  course  could  not  fail  in  the  legend. 
More  important  still  is  it  that  the  hero  of  the 
English  ballad  goes  home  and  forgets  the 
woman  he  has  left  in  a  foreign  land,  instead 
of  going  away  from  home  and  forgetting  the 
love  he  has  left  there.  But  the  ballad,  for  all  ^ 
that,  is  not  derived  from  the  legend.  Stories 
and  ballads  of  the  general  cast  of  'Young 
Beichau'  are  extremely  frequent.|     The  leg- 


*  Kichard,  the  proud  porter  of  the  ballads,  is  perhaps 
most  like  himself  in  M  32  ff. 

t  Neither  her  old  name  nor  her  Christian  name  is  told  us 
in  this  legend.  Gilbert  Beket's  wife  was  Matilda,  according 
to  most  authorities,  but  Roesa  according  to  one:  see  Robert- 
son, as  above,  IV,  81 ;  Migne,  cols  278  f.  ¥ox  has  made 
Roeaa  into  Rose,  Acts  and  Monuments,  I,  267,  ed.  1641. 

Gill)ert  and  Rose  (but  Roesa  is  not  Rose)  recall  to  Hip- 
peau.  Vie  de  St  Thomas  par  Garnier  de  Pont  Sainte  Max- 
ence, p.  xxiii,  Elie  de  Saint  Gille  and  Rosamonde,  whose 
adventures  have  thus  much  resemblance  with  those  of  Beket 
and  of  Bekie.  Elie  de  Saint  Gille,  after  performing  astound- 
ing feats  of  valor  in  fight  with  a  horde  of  Saracens  who 
have  made  a  descent  on  Brittany,  is  carried  off  to  their  land. 
The  amiral  Macabre'  requires  Elie  to  adore  Mahomet ;  Elie 
refuses  in  the  most  insolent  terms,  and  is  condemned  to  the 
gallows.      He  effects  his  escape,  and  finds  himself  before 


Macabre's  castle.  Here,  in  another  fight,  he  is  desperately 
wounded,  but  is  restored  by  the  skill  of  Rosamonde,  the  ami- 
ral's  daugliter,  who  is  Christian  at  heart,  and  loves  the 
Frank.  To  save  her  from  beiug  forced  to  marry  the  king 
of  Bagdad,  Elie  fights  as  her  champion.  In  the  end  she  is 
baptized,  as  a  preparation  for  her  union  with  Elie,  but  he, 
having  been  present  at  the  ceremony,  is  adjudged  by  the 
archbishop  to  be  gossip  to  her,  and  Elie  and  Rosamonde  are 
otherwise  disposed  of.  So  the  French  romance,  but  in  the 
Norse,  which,  as  Kolbiiig  maintains,  is  likely  to  preserve  the 
original  story  here,  there  is  no  such  s])litlitig  of  cumin,  and 
hero  and  heroine  are  united. 

t  There  is  one  in  the  Gesta  Romanorum,  cap.  5,  Osterley, 
p.  278,  of  about  the  same  age  as  tlie  Beket  legend.  It  is 
not  particularly  important.  A  young  man  is  captured  by  a 
pirate,  and  his  father  will  not  send  his  ransom.  The  pirate's 
daughter  often  visits  the  captive,  who  appeals  to  her  to  e,\crt 


53.    YOUNG  BEICHAN 


459 


end  lacks  some  of  the  main  points  of  these 
stories,  and  the  ballad,  in  one  version  or  an- 
other, has  them,  as  will  be  seen  by  referring 
to  what  has  been  said  under  '  Hind  Horn,'  pp 
194  ff.  Bekie  and  Beket  go  to  the  East,  like 
Heniy  and  Reinfrit  of  Brunswick,  the  Noble 
Moringer,  the  good  Gerhard,  Messer  Torello, 
the  Sire  de  Cr^qui,  Alexander  of  Metz,  and 
others.  Like  the  larger  part  of  these,  they  are 
made  prisoners  by  the  Saracens.  He  will  not 
bow  the  knee  to  Mahound ;  neither  will  the 
Sire  de  Cr«^qui,  though  he  die  for  it.*  Beichan 
is  made  to  draw  cart,  plough,  harrow,  like  a 
beast.  So  Henry  of  Brunswick  in  a  Swedish 
and  a  Danish  ballad, f  and  Alexander  von 
Metz,  or  the  Graf  von  Rom,  in  his  most  beau- 
tiful and  touching  story.:f  Henry  of  Bruns- 
wick is  set  free  by  a  "  heathen  "  lady  in  the 
Danish  ballad.  In  one  version  of  Beichan,  E, 
the  lady  on  parting  with  her  love  breaks  her 
ring  and  gives  him  one  half,  as  Henry,  or  his 
wife,  Reinfrit,  Gerhard,  Cr^qui,  and  others  do. 
At  this  point  in  the  story  the  woman  pursues 
the  man,  and  parts  ai'e  inverted.  Susan  Pye  is 
warned  that  Beichan  is  to  be  married  the  next 
day,  in  C  by  a  Billy-Blin,  in  M  by  a  woman  in 
green,  or  fairj^,  and  is  conveyed  to  Beichan's 
castle  or  hall  with  miraculous  despatch,  just  as 
Henry  and  others  are  warned,  and  are  trans- 
ported to  their  homes  by  devil,  angel,  or  nec- 
romancer. In  E  and  N  the  old  love  is  identi- 
fied by  a  half  ring  or  ring,  as  in  so  many  of 
the  stories  of  the  class  of  Henry  the  Lion. 

Norse,  Spanish,  and  Italian  ballads  preserve 
a  story  essentially  the  same  as  that  of  '  Young 
Beichan.' 

Scandinavian. 

Danish.    '  Stolt  Ellensborg,'  Grundtvig,  IV, 


238,  No  218,  nine  versions,  A-G,  from  man- 
uscripts of  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  '•^ 
centuries,  H,  I,  from  recent  tradition.  B  is 
previously  printed  (with  alterations)  in  Lev- 
ninger,  '  Jomfrue  Ellensborg,'  I,  66,  No  12, 
Danske  Viser,  III,  268,  No  213  ;  I,  '  Stalt  El- 
len henter  sin  Fsestemand '  is  in  Kristensen, 
I,  89,  No  36.  Of  the  older  texts,  A,  B,  C  ai-e 
absolutely  pure  and  true  to  tradition,  D-G  re- 
touched or  made  over. 

Icelandic,    of    the    seventeenth     century,    v^ 
Grundtvig,  as  above,  p.  259,  M. 

Swedish,  from  Cavallius  and  Stephens' 
collection,  Grundtvig,  p.  255,  K. 

Faroe,  taken  down  in  1827,  Grundtvig,  p. 
256,  L. 

Norwegian,  '  Herre  Per  i  Riki,'  Landstad, 
p.  596,  No  76,  N. 

The  variations  of  these  twelve  versions  are 
insignificant.  The  names  Herr  Peder  den 
Rige  and  Ellensborg  [Ellen]  are  found  in 
nearly  all.  It  comes  into  Sir  Peter's  mind 
that  he  ought  to  go  to  Jerusalem  to  expiate 
his  sins,  and  he  asks  his  betrothed,  Ellens- 
borg, how  long  she  will  wait  for  him.  She 
will  wait  eight  j'ears,  and  marry  no  other, 
though  the  king  should  woo  her  [seven,  L ; 
nine,  M,  "  If  I  do  not  come  then,  break  the 
engagement;"  eight,  and  not  more,  N].  The 
time  passes  and  Peter  does  not  come  back. 
Ellensborg  goes  to  the  strand.  Traders  come 
steering  in,  and  she  is  asked  to  buy  of  their 
ware,  —  sendal,  linen,  and  silk  green  as  leek. 
She  cares  not  for  these  things ;  have  they  not 
seen  her  sister's  son  [brother],  for  whom  she 
is  grieving  to  death  ?  They  know  nothing  of 
her  sister's  son,  but  well  they  know  Sir  Peter 
the  rich :  he  has  betrothed  a  lady  in  the  0s- 


benelf  for  his  liberation.  She  promises  to  effect  his  free- 
dom if  he  will  marry  her.  This  he  agrees  to.  She  releases 
him  from  his  chaius  without  her  father's  knowledge,  and 
flies  with  him  to  his  native  land. 

•  Nor  Guarinos  in  the  Spanish  ballad,  Duran,  No  402,  I, 
265;  Wolf  and  Hofm.inn,  Primavcra,  II,  321.  Guarinos  is 
very  cruelly  treated,  but  it  is  his  horse,  not  he,  that  has  to 
draw  ciirts.  For  the  Sire  de  Creqiii  see  also  Dinaux,  Trou- 
veres,  III,  161  ff  (Kohler). 

t  And  in  '  Der  Herr  von  Falkcnstein,'  a  variety  of  the 
story,  Meier,  Deutsche  Sagen  aiis  Schwaben,  p.  319,  No  362. 
A  Christian  undergoes  the  same  hardship  in  Schoppner,  Sa- 
genbuch,  III,   127,  No  1076.    For  other  cases  of  the  won- 


derfal  deliverance  of  captive  knights,  not  previonsly  men- 
tioned by  me,  see  Hocker,  in  Wolf's  Zeitschrift  fiir  dentsche 
Mythologie,  I,  306. 

%  A  meisterlied  of  Alexander  von  Metz,  of  the  second  half   I 
of  the  fifteenth  century,  Komer,  Historische  Volkslieder,  p.   ' 
49  ;   the   ballad  '  Der   Graf  von   Rom,'  or  '  Der  Graf   im 
Pfluge,'  Uhland,  p.  784,  No  299,  printed  as  early  as  1493;  j 
De  Historic  van  Florenlina,  Huysvrouwe  van  Alexander  van 
Mets,    1621,   van  den  Bergh,    De  nederlandsche  Volksro- 
man>i,  p.  52.    And  see  Goedeke,  Deutsche  Dichtung  ira  Mit- 
telalter,  pp  569,  574  ;  Uhland,  Schriftcn  ziir  Geschichte  der 
Dichtung,  IV,  297-309 ;  Danske  Viser,  V,  67. 


460 


53.    YOUNG  BEICHAN 


ter-king's  realm;*  a  heathen  womiin,  "  and 
you  never  came  into  his  mind,"  E  13  ;  he  is 
to  be  married  to-morrow,  K  6.  A  wee  swain 
tells  her,  M  14,  16,  that  he  sits  in  Austurrfki 
drinking  the  ale  of  foi-getfulness,  and  will 
never  come  home ;  he  shall  not  drink  long, 
says  she.  Ellensborg  asks  her  brother  to  un- 
dertake a  voyage  for  her ;  he  will  go  with 
her  if  she  will  wait  till  summer ;  rather  than 
wait  till  summer  she  will  go  alone,  A,  D,  G. 
She  asks  fraternal  advice  about  going  in  search 
of  her  lover,  A,  B,  the  advice  of  her  uncles, 
I ;  asks  the  loan  of  a  ship,  B,  C,  P,  H,  N.  She 
is  told  that  such  a  thing  would  be  a  shame; 
she  had  better  take  another  lover;  the  ob- 
ject is  not  worth  the  trouble ;  the  voyage  is 
bad  for  a  man  and  worse  for  a  woman.  Her 
maids  give  her  advice  that  is  more  to  her 
mind,  E,  but  are  as  prudent  as  the  rest  in  the 
later  I.  She  attires  herself  like  a  knight, 
clips  her  maids'  hair,  B,  H,  I,  L,  M,  and  puts 
them  into  men's  clothes,  D,  L  ;  sets  herself  to 
steer  and  the  maids  to  row,  A-G,  L.f 

The  voyage  is  less  than  two  months,  B,  C,  E ; 
less  than  three  months,  I ;  quite  three  months, 
L.  It  is  the  first  day  of  the  bridal  when  she 
lands,  B  22,  E  24,  N  14;  in  B  Ellensborg 
learns  this  from  a  boy  who  is  walking  on  the 
sand.  Sword  at  side,  she  enters  the  hall  where 
Peter  is  drinking  his  bridal.  Peter,  can  in 
band,  rises  and  says,  Bless  your  eyes,  my  sis- 
ter's son  ;  welcome  to  this  strange  land.  In  B 
he  asks.  How  are  my  father  and  mother?  and 
she  tells  him  that  his  father  lies  dead  on  his 
bier,  his  mother  in  sick-bed.  In  L,  waiting  for 
no  greeting,  she  says.  Well  you  sit  at  the  board 
with  your  wife !  Are  all  lords  wont  thus  to 
keep  their  faith  ?  The  bride's  mother,  D,  G, 
the  heathen  bride,  B,  an  unnamed  person, 
probably  the  bride.  A,  B,  P,  N,  says.  That  is 
not  your  sister's  son,  but  much  more  like  a 
woman ;  her  hair  is  like  spun  gold,  and  braided 
up  under  a  silk  cap. 

A  tells  us,  and  so  P,  G,  that  it  was  two 


months  before  Ellensborg  could  speak  to  Peter 
privately.  Then,  on  a  Yule  day,  when  he  was 
going  to  church,  she  said.  It  does  not  occur  to 
you  that  you  gave  me  your  troth.  Sir  Peter 
stood  as  if  women  had  shorn  his  haii',  and 
recollected  all  as  if  it  had  been  yesterday.  In 
B-E,  H,  I,  L,  M,  N,  this  incident  has,  perhaps, 
dropped  out.  In  these  immediately,  as  in  A, 
P,  G,  after  this  interview,  Sir  Peter,  recalled 
to  his  senses  or  to  his  fidelity,  conceives  the 
purpose  of  flying  with  Ellensborg.  Good  peo- 
ple, he  says,  knights  and  swains,  ladies  and 
maids,  follow  my  bride  to  bed,  while  I  take 
my  sister's  son  over  the  meads,  through  the 
wood,  B-E,  H,  I,  N.  In  A,  P,  Sir  Peter  asks 
tlie  bride  how  long  she  will  bide  while  he 
takes  his  nephew  across  the  kingdom  ;  in  G 
begs  the  boon  that,  since  his  sister's  son  is 
going,  he  may  ride  with  him,  just  accompany 
him  to  the  strand  and  take  leave  of  him ;  in 
L,  M,  hopes  she  will  not  be  angi-y  if  he  con- 
voys his  nephew  three  days  on  his  way.  (It  is 
at  this  point  in  C,  H,  I,  L,  that  the  bride  says 
it  is  no  sister's  son,  but  a  woman.)  The  bride 
remarks  that  there  are  knights  and  swains  enow 
to  escort  his  sister's  son,  and  that  he  might 
more  fitly  stay  where  he  is,  but  Sir  Peter 
persists  that  he  will  see  his  nephew  off  in  per- 
son. 

Sir  Peter  and  Ellensborg  go  aboard  the 
ship,  he  crying.  You  will  see  me  no  more  I 
When  they  are  at  sea  Ellensborg  lets  out  her 
hair.  A,  B,  C,  H  ;  she  wishes  that  the  aban- 
doned bride  may  now  feel  the  grief  which  she 
herself  had  borne  for  years.  The  proceeding 
is  less  covert  in  I,  L,  M  than  in  the  other 
versions. 

As  Ellensborg  and  Peter  are  making  for  the 
ship  in  D  30,  31  (and  G  36,  37,  borrowed  from 
D),  she  says.  Tell  me.  Sir  Peter,  why  would 
you  deceive  me  so?  Sir  Peter  answers  that 
he  never  meant  to  deceive  her;  it  was  the 
lady  of  0sterland  that  did  it ;  she  had  changed 
his  mind.     A  magical  change  is  meant.    This 


*  0ster-kongcns  rige,  0sterige,  0sterland,  Austin'ki,  un- 
derstood by  Grundtvig  as  GaiSariki,  the  Scandinavian-Rus- 
sian kingdom  of  the  tenth  and  eleventh  centuries.  Austrn'ki 
is  used  vaguely,  but  especially  of  the  east  of  Europe,  Russia, 
Austria,  sometimes  including  Turkey  (Vigfusson). 


t  In  Swedish  K,  as  she  pushes  off  from  land,  she  ex- 
claims : 

'  Gud  Fader  i  Himmelens  rike 
Skall  vara  min  styresmau !  ' 
Cf.  M  28 : 

And  she 's  taen  God  her  pilot  to  be. 


53.    YOUNG  BEICHAN 


461 


agrees  with  what  is  said  in  A  24,  25  (also  P, 
G),  that  when  EUensborg  got  Peter  alone  to 
herself,  and  said,  You  do  not  remember  that 
you  plighted  your  troth  to  me,  everything 
came  back  to  him  as  if  it  had  happened  yes- 
terday. And  again  in  the  Faroe  copy,  L  49, 
EUensborg,  from  the  prow,  cries  to  Ingibjorg 
on  the  strand.  Farewell  to  thee  with  thy  elf- 
ways,  vitS  titt  elvargangi!  I  have  taken  to 
myself  my  true  love  that  I  lent  thee  so  long ; 
implying  that  Sir  Peter  had  been  detained 
by  Circean  arts,  by  a  sleepy  drench  of  6inin- 
nis  61,  or  ale  of  forgetfulness,  Icelandic  M  14, 
which,  in  the  light  of  the  otlier  ballads,  is  to 
be  understood  literally,  and  not  figuratively. 
The  feature  of  a  man  being  made,  by  magical 
or  other  means,  to  forget  a  first  love  who  had 
done  and  suffered  much  for  him,  and  being 
suddenly  restored  to  consciousness  and  his 
original  predilection,  is  of  the  commonest  oc- 
currence in  traditional  tales.* 

Our  English  ballad  affords  no  other  positive 
trace  of  external  interference  with  the  hero's 
will  than  the  far-fetched  allegation  in  C  that 
the  choice  before  him  was  to  accept  a  duke's 
daughter  or  forfeit  his  lands.  The  explana- 
tion of  his  inconstancy  in  H,  N,  that  young 
men  ever  were  fickle  found,  is  vulgar,  and  also 
insufficient,  for  Beichan  returns  to  his  old  love 
per  saltum,  like  one  from  whose  eyes  §cales 
have  fallen  and  from  whose  back  a  weight  lias 
been  taken,  not  tamely,  like  a  facile  youth 
that  has  swerved,  E  and  K,  as  already  said, 
distinctly  recognize  that  Beichan  was  not  act- 
ing with  free  mind,  and,  for  myself,  I  have 
little  doubt  that,  if  we  could  go  back  far 
enough,  we  should  find  that  he  had  all  along 
been  faithful  at  heart. 

Spanish.     A.  '  El  Conde  Sol,'  Duran,  Ro- 

•  See  '  The  Red  Bull  of  Norroway,'  Chambers,  Popular 
Rhymes  of  Scotland,  1870,  p.  99  ;  '  Mesterrae,'  Asbjernsen 
eg  Moe,  No  46 ;  '  Hass-Fru,'  Cavalliiis  och  Stephens,  No 
14;  Powell,  Icelandic  Legends,  Second  Series,  p.  377  ;  the 
Grimms,  Nos  56,  113,  186,  193;  Pentamerone,  ii,  7,  iii,  9; 
Gonzenbach,  Nos  14,  54,  55,  and  Kohler's  note ;  Hahn,  Grie- 
chische  u.  Albanesische  Marchen,  No  54 ;  Carleton,  Traits 
and  Stories  of  the  Irish  Peasantry,  10th  ed.,  I,  23 ;  Camp- 
bell, West  Highland  Tales,  I,  25,  No  2,  and  Koliler's  notes 
in  Orient  u.  Occident,  II,  103-114,  etc.,  etc. 

t  This  passage  leads  the  editors  of  Primavera  to  remark, 


mancero,  I,  180,  No  327,  from  tradition  in  An-  ^ 
dalusia,  by  the  editor ;  Wolf  and  Hofmann, 
Primavera,  II,  48,  No  135.  In  this  most  beau- 
tiful romance  the  County  Sol,  named  general 
in  great  wars  between  Spain  and  Portugal, 
and  leaving  a  young  wife  dissolved  in  tears, 
tells  her  that  she  is  free  to  marry  if  he  does 
not  come  back  in  six  years.  Six  pass,  and 
eight,  and  more  than  ten,  yet  the  county  does 
not  return,  nor  does  thei-e  come  news  of  him. 
His  wife  implores  and  obtains  leave  of  her 
father  to  go  in  search  of  her  husband.  She 
traverses  France  and  Italy,  land  and  sea,  and 
is  on  the  point  of  giving  up  hope,  when  one 
day  she  sees  a  herdsman  pasturing  cows. 
Whose  are  these  cows?  slie  asks.  The  County 
Sol's,  is  the  answer.  And  whose  these  wheat- 
fields,  these  ewes,  these  gardens,  and  that  pal- 
ace ?  whose  the  horses  I  hear  neigh  ?  The 
County  Sol's,  is  the  answer  in  each  case.f 
And  who  that  lady  that  a  man  folds  in  his 
arms  ?  The  lady  is  betrothed  to  him  and  the 
county  is  to  marry  her.  The  countess  changes 
her  silken  robe  for  the  herdsman's  sackcloth, 
and  goes  to  ask  an  alms  at  the  county's  gate- 
Beyond  all  hope,  the  county  comes  out  him- 
self to  bring  it.  "  Whence  comest  thou,  pil- 
grim?" he  asks.  She  was  born  in  Spain. 
"How  didst  thou  make  thy  way  hither?" 
She  came  to  seek  her  husband,  footing  the 
thorns  by  land,  risking  the  perils  of  the  sea  ; 
and  when  she  found  him  he  was  about  to 
marry,  he  had  forgotten  his  faithful  wife. 
"  Pilgrim,  thou  art  surely  the  devil,  come  to 
try  me."  "  No  devil,"  she  said,  "  but  thy 
wife  indeed,  and  therefore  come  to  seek  thee." 
Upon  this,  without  a  moment's  tarrying,  the 
county  ordered  his  horse,  took  up  his  wife, 
and  made  his  best  speed  to  his  native  castle. 

II,  52,  that  '  El  Conde  Sol '  shows  distinct  traits  of  '  Le  Chat 
Botte."  Similar  questions  arc  asked  in  English  G,  the  other 
Spanish  versions,  and  the  Italian,  and  in  nearly  all  the 
Greek  ballads  referred  to  on  pp  1 99,  200  ;  always  under  the 
same  circumstances,  and  to  bring  about  the  discovery  which 
gives  the  turn  to  the  story.  The  questions  in  '  Le  Chat 
Botte''  are  introduced  for  an  entirely  different  purpose,  and 
cannot  rationally  suggest  a  borrowing  on  either  side.  The 
hasty  note  would  certainly  have  been  erased  by  the  very  dis- 
tinguished editors  upon  a  moment's  consideration. 


462 


53.    YOUNG  BEICHAN 


The  bride  he  would  have  taken  remained  un- 
married, for  tliose  tliat  put  on  others'  robes  are 
sure  to  be  stripped  nailed. 

B.  '  Gerineldo,'  taken  down  in  Asturias  by 
Amador  de  los  Rios,  Jahrbuch  fiir  i-omanische 
u.  englische  Literatur,  III,  290,  1861,  and  the 
same  year  (Nigra)  in  Revista  Iberica,  I,  51 ; 
a  version  far  inferior  to  A,  and  differing  in  no 
important  respect  as  to  the  story. 

C.  '  La  boda  interrumpida,'  Mild,,  Roman- 
cerillo  Catalan,  p,  221,  No  244,  seven  copies, 
A-G,  none  good.  A,  which  is  about  one  tliird 
Castilian,  relates  that  war  is  declared  between 
France  and  Portugal,  and  the  son  of  Conde 
Burgos  made  general.  The  countess  his  wife 
does  nothing  but  weep.  The  husband  tells 
her  to  marry  again  if  he  does  not  come  back 
in  seven  years.  More  than  seven  years  are 
gone,  and  the  lady's  father  asks  why  slie  does 
not  marry.  "  How  can  I," -she  replies,  "  if  the 
count  is  living  ?  Give  me  your  blessing,  and 
let  me  go  in  search  of  him."  She  goes  a  hun- 
dred leagues  on  foot,  in  the  disguise  of  a  pil- 
grim. Arrived  at  a  palace  she  sees  pages  pass, 
and  asks  them  for  whom  a  horse  is  intended. 
It  is  for  Count  Burgos's  son,  who  marries  that 
night.  She  asks  to  be  directed  to  the  young 
count,  is  told  that  she  will  find  him  in  the 
hall,  enters,  and  begs  an  alms,  as  coming  from 
Italy  and  without  a  penny.  The  young  man 
says,  If  you  come  from  Italy,  what  is  the 
news?  Is  Conde  Bueso's  wife  living?  The 
pilgrim  desires  some  description  of  the  lady. 
It  seems  that  she  wore  a  very  costly  petticoat 
on  her  wedding-day.  The  pilgrim  takes  off 
her  glove  and  shows  her  ring ;  she  also  takes 
off  and  shows  the  expensive  petticoat.  There 
is  great  weeping  in  that  palace,  for  first  wives 
never  can  be  forgotten.  Don  Bueso  and  the 
pilgrim  clap  hands  and  go  home. 

Italian :  Piedmontese.  A.  '  Moran  d'ln- 
ghilterra,'  communicated  to  Rivista  Contempo- 
ranea,  XXXI,  3, 1862,  by  Nigra,  who  gives  the 
variations  of  four  other  versions.  The  daugh- 
ter of  the  sultan  is  so  handsome  that  they 
know  not  whom  to  give  her  to,  but  decide 
upon  Moran  of  England.  The  first  day  of 
his  marriage  he  did  nothing  but  kiss  hei-, 
the  second  he  wished  to  leave  her,  and  the 


third  he  went  off  to  the  war.  "  When  shall 
you  return  ?  "  asked  his  wife.  "  If  not  in 
seven  years,  mai-ry."  She  waited  seven  years, 
but  Moran  did  not  come.  His  wife  went  all 
over  England  on  horseback,  and  came  upon 
a  cowherd.  "  Whose  cows  are  these  ?  "  she 
asked.  They  were  Moran's.  "  Has  Moran 
a  wife?"  This  is  the  day  when  he  is  to 
marry,  and  if  she  makes  haste  she  will  be  in 
time  for  the  wedding.  She  spurs  her  horse, 
and  arrives  in  season.  They  offer  her  to 
drink  in  a  gold  cup.  She  will  drink  from  no 
cup  that  is  not  her  own  ;  she  will  not  drink 
while  another  woman  is  there  ;  she  will  not 
drink  till  she  is  mistress.  Moran  throws  his 
arms  round  her  neck,  saying,  Mistress  you 
ever  have  been  and  still  shall  be. 

B.  '  Morando,'  Ferraro,  Canti  popolari  mon- 
ferrini,  p.  42,  No  32,  from  Alessandria.  Mu- 
rando  d'Inghilterra,  of  the  king's  household, 
fell  in  love  with  the  princess,  for  which  the 
king  sent  him  off.  The  lady  knocked  at  his 
dooi',  and  asked  when  he  would  come  back. 
In  seven  years,  was  the  answer,  and  if  not 
she  was  to  many.  The  princess  stole  a  hun- 
dred scudi  from  her  father,  frizzled  her  hair 
French  fashion,  bought  a  fashionable  suit,  and 
rode  three  days  a;nd  nights  without  touching 
ground,  eating,  or  drinking.  She  came  upon 
a  laundryman,  and  asked  who  was  in  com- 
mand there.  Murando.  She  knocked  at  the 
door,  and  Murando  asked,  Have  you  come  to 
our  wedding  ?  She  would  come  to  the  dance. 
At  the  dance  she  was  recognized  by  the  ser- 
vants. Murando  asked,  How  came  you  here  ? 
"  I  rode  three  days  and  three  nights  without 
touching  ground,  eating,  or  drinking."  This 
is  my  wife,  said  Murando  ;  and  the  other  lady 
he  bade  return  to  her  fatliei'. 

It  is  possible  that  this  ballad  may  formerly 
have  been  known  in  France.  Nothing  is  left 
and  known  that  shows  this  conclusively,  but 
there  is  an  approach  to  the  Norse  form  in  a 
fragment  which  occurs  in  several  widely  sep- 
arated localities.  A  lover  goes  off  in  Novem- 
ber, promising  his  love  to  retui'n  in  December, 
but  does  not.  A  messenger  comes  to  bid  the 
lady,  in  his  name,  seek  another  lover,  for  he 
has  another  love.     "  Is  she  fairer  than  I,  or 


53,    YOUNG  BEICHAN 


463 


more  powerful  ?  "  She  is  not  fairer,  but  moi-e 
powerful :  she  makes  rosemary  flower  on  the 
edge  of  her  sleeve,  changes  the  sea  into  wine 
and  fish  into  flesh.  Bujeaud,  I,  203.  In  '  La 
Femme  Abandonnde,'  Puymaigre,  I,  72,  the 
lover  is  married  to  a  Fleming : 

Elle  fait  venir  le  soleil 
A  minuit  dans  sa  chambre, 
Elle  fait  bouiUer  la  marmite 
Sans  feu  et  sbjis  rente. 

In  a  Canadian  version,  '  Entre  Paris  et  Saint- 
Denis,'  Gagnon,  p.  303,  the  deserted  woman 
is  a  king's  daughter,  and  the  new  love, 

Ell'  fait  neiger,  ell'  fait  greler, 
EU'  fait  le  vent  qui  vente. 
ELL'  fait  reluire  le  soleil 
A  minuit  dans  sa  chambre. 
Ell'  fait  pousser  le  romarin 
Sur  le  bord  de  la  manche. 

Puymaigre  notes  that  there  is  a  version  very 
near  to  the  Canadian  in  the  sixth  volume  of 
Poesies  populaires  de  la  France,  cinquieme  re- 
cueil,  Ardennes,  No  2.* 

A  broadside  ballad,  '  The  Turkish  Lady,' 
'  The  Turkish  Lady  and  the  English  Slave,' 
printed  in  Logan's  Pedlar's  Pack,  p.  16,  Chris- 
tie, I,  247,  from  singing,  and  preserved  also  in 
the  Kinloch  MSS,  V,  53',  I,  263,  from  Eliza- 
beth Beattie's  recitation,  simply  relates  how 
a  Turkish  pirate's  daughter  fell  in  love  witli 
an  Englishman,  her  slave,  offered  to  release 
him  if  he  would  turn  Turk,  but  chose  the  bet- 
ter part  of  flying  with  him  to  Bristol,  and 
becoming  herself  a  Christian  brave. 


Sir  "William  Stanley,  passing  through  Con- 
stantinople, is  condemned  to  die  for  his  re- 
ligion. A  lady,  walking  under  the  prison 
walls,  liears  his  lament,  and  begs  his  life  of 
the  Turk.  She  would  make  him  her  husband, 
and  bring  him  to  adore  Mahomet.  She  offers 
to  set  the  prisoner  free  if  he  will  marry  lier, 
but  he  has  a  wife  and  childreii  on  English 
ground.  The  lady  is  sorry,  but  generously 
gives  Stanley  five  hundred  pounds  to  carry 
him  to  his  own  country.  Sir  William  Stan- 
ley's Garland,  Halliwell's  Palatine  Anthology, 
pp  277  f. 

Two  Magyars  have  been  shut  up  in  a  dun- 
geon by  the  sultan,  and  have  not  seen  sun, 
moon,  or  stars  for  seven  years.  The  sultan's 
daughter  hears  their  moan,  and  offers  to  free 
them  if  they  will  take  her  to  Hungary.  This 
they  promise  to  do.  She  gets  the  keys,  takes 
money,  opens  the  doors,  and  the  three  make 
off.  They  are  followed  ;  one  of  the  Magyars 
kills  all  the  pursuers  but  one,  who  is  left  to 
carry  back  the  news.  It  is  now  proposed  that 
there  shall  be  a  duel  to  determine  who  shall 
have  the  lady.  She  begs  them  rather  to  cut 
off  her  head  than  to  fight  about  her.  Szildgyi 
Niklas  says  he  has  a  love  at  home,  and  leaves 
the  sultan's  daughter  to  his  comrade,  Hagy- 
mdsi  L4szl6.  Aigner,  Ungarische  Volksdich- 
tungen,  p.  93  :  see  p.  107  of  this  volume. 

C  b  is  translated  by  Loeve-Veimars,  p.  330  ; 
E  by  Cesare  Cantu,  Documenti  alia  Storia 
Universale,  Torino,  1858,  Tomo  V°,  Parte 
IIP,  p.  796  ;  E,  as  retouched  by  AUingham, 
by  Knortz,  L.  u.  R.  Alt-Englands,  p.  18. 


Jamieson-Brown  MS.,  fol.  13. 

1  In  London  city  was  Bicham  bom, 

He  longd  strange  countries  for  to  see, 
But  he  was  taen  by  a  savage  Moor, 
Who  handld  him  right  cruely. 

2  For  thro  his  shoulder  he  put  a  bore, 

An  thro  the  bore  has  pitten  a  tree, 

*  Puymaigre  finds  also  some  resemblance  in  his  'Petite 
Rosalie,'  I,  74  :  see  his  note. 


An  he  's  gard  him  draw  the  carts  o  wine, 
Where  horse  and  oxen  had  wont  to  be. 

3  He 's  casten  [him]  in  a  dungeon  deep, 

Where  he  coud  neither  hear  nor  see  ; 
He 's  shut  him  up  in  a  prison  strong, 
An  he  's  handld  him  right  cruely. 

4  0  this  Moor  he  had  but  ae  daughter, 

I  wot  her  name  was  Shusy  Pye ; 
She  's  doen  her  to  the  prison-house, 

And  she  's  caUd  Young  Bicham  one  word  by. 


464 


53.    YOUNG  BBICHAN 


5  '  0  liae  ye  ony  lands  or  rents, 

Or  citys  in  your  ain  country, 
Coud  free  you  out  of  prison  strong. 
An  coud  mantain  a  lady  free  ?  ' 

6  '  0  London  city  is  my  own, 

An  other  citys  twa  or  tliree, 
Coud  loose  me  out  o  prison  strong. 
An  coud  mantain  a  lady  free.' 

7  O  she  has  bribed  her  father's  men 

Wi  meikle  goud  and  white  money, 

She  's  gotten  the  key  o  the  prison  doors, 

An  she  has  set  Young  Bicham  free. 

8  She  's  gi'n  him  a  loaf  o  good  white  bread. 

But  an  a  flask  o  Spanish  wine. 
An  she  bad  him  mind  on  the  ladie's  love 
That  sae  kindly  freed  him  out  o  pine. 

9  '  Go  set  your  foot  on  good  ship-board. 

An  haste  you  back  to  your  ain  country, 
An  before  that  seven  years  has  an  end. 
Come  back  again,  love,  and  marry  me.' 

10  It  was  long  or  seven  years  had  an  end 

She  longd  fu  sair  her  love  to  see ; 
She  's  set  her  foot  on  good  ship-board, 
An  turnd  her  back  on  her  ain  country. 

11  She  's  saild  up,  so  has  she  doun. 

Till  she  came  to  the  other  side  ; 
She  's  landed  at  Young  Bicham's  gates, 
An  I  hop  this  day  she  sal  be  his  bride. 

12  '  Is  this  Young  Bicham's  gates  ?  '  says  she, 

'  Or  is  that  noble  prince  within  ?  ' 
'  He  's  up  the  stairs  wi  his  bonny  bride, 
An  monny  a  lord  and  lady  wi  him.' 

13  '  O  has  he  taen  a  bonny  bride. 

An  lias  he  clean  forgotten  me  !  ' 
An  sighing  said  that  gay  lady, 
I  wish  I  were  in  my  ain  country ! 

14  But  she  's  pitten  her  han  in  her  pocket, 

An  gin  the  porter  guineas  three  ; 


Says,  Take  ye  that,  ye  proud  porter. 
An  bid  the  bridegroom  speak  to  me. 

15  O  whan  the  porter  came  up  the  stair," 

He  's  fa'n  low  down  upon  his  knee  : 
'  Won  up,  won  up,  ye  proud  porter. 
An  what  makes  a'  this  courtesy  ?  ' 

16  '  0  I  've  been  porter  at  your  gates 

This  mair  nor  seven  years  an  three. 
But  there  is  a  lady  at  them  now 
The  like  of  whom  I  never  did  see. 

17  '  For  on  every  finger  she  has  a  ring. 

An  on  the  mid-finger  she  has  three. 
An  there  's  as  meilde  goud  aboon  her  brow 
As  woud  buy  an  earldome  o  Ian  to  me.' 

18  Then  up  it  started  Young  Bicham, 

An  sware  so  loud  by  Our  Lady, 
'  It  can  be  nane  but  Shusy  Pye, 
That  has  come  oer  the  sea  to  me.' 

19  O  quickly  ran  he  down  the  stair, 

O  fifteen  steps  he  has  made  but  three  ; 
He 's  tane  his  bonny  love  in  his  arms, 
An  a  wot  he  kissd  her  tenderly. 

20  '  O  hae  you  tane  a  bonny  bride  ? 

An  hae  you  quite  forsaken  me  ? 
An  hae  ye  quite  forgotten  her 
That  gae  you  life  an  liberty  ?  ' 

21  She  's  lookit  oer  her  left  shoulder 

To  hide  the  tears  stood  in  her  ee  ; 
'  Now  fare  thee  well,  Young  Bicham,'  she  says, 
'  I  '11  strive  to  think  nae  mair  on  thee.' 

22  '  Take  back  your  daughter,  madam,'  he  says, 

'  An  a  double  dowry  I  '11  gi  her  wi  ; 
For  I  maun  marry  my  first  true  love. 

That 's  done  and  suffered  so  much  for  me.' 

23  He  's  take  his  bonny  love  by  the  han. 

And  led  her  to  yon  fountain  stane  ; 
He  's  changd  her  name  frae  Shusy  Pye, 
An  he  's  cald  her  his  bonny  love,  Lady  Jane. 


53.    YOUNG  BEICHAN 


465 


B 

GleniiddeU  MSS,  XI,  80. 

1  In  England  was  Young  Brechin  born, 

Of  parents  of  a  high  degree ; 
Tlie  selld  him  to  the  savage  Moor, 

Where  they  abused  him  maist  cruellie. 

2  Thro  evry  slioulder  they  bord  a  bore, 

And  thro  evry  bore  they  pat  a  tree  ;  * 
They  made  him  draw  the  carts  o  wine, 
Which  horse  and  owsn  were  wont  to  drie. 

3  The  pat  him  into  prison  strong, 

Where  he  could  neither  hear  nor  see  ; 
They  pat  him  in  a  dark  dungeon. 
Where  he  was  sick  and  like  to  die. 

4  '  Is  there  neer  an  auld  wife  in  this  town 

Tliat  '11  borrow  me  to  be  her  son  ? 
Is  there  neer  a  young  maid  in  this  town 
Will  take  me  for  her  chiefest  one  ?  ' 

5  A  Savoyen  has  an  only  daughter, 

I  wat  she 's  called  Young  Briehen  by ; 
'  0  sleepst  thou,  wakest  thou,  Briehen  ? '  she 
says, 
'  Or  who  is 't  that  does  on  me  cry  ? 

6  '  O  hast  thou  any  house  or  lands. 

Or  hast  thou  any  castles  free. 
That  thou  wadst  gi  to  a  lady  fair 
That  out  o  prison  wad  bring  thee  ?  ' 

7  '  0  lady,  Lundin  it  is  mine. 

And  other  castles  twa  or  three  ; 
These  I  wad  gie  to  a  lady  fair 

That  out  of  prison  wad  set  me  free.' 

8  She 's  taen  him  by  the  milk-white  hand. 

And  led  him  to  a  towr  sae  hie, 
She  's  made  him  drink  the  wine  sae  reid, 
And  sung  to  him  like  a  mavosie. 

9  O  these  two  luvers  made  a  bond. 

For  seven  years,  and  that  is  lang, 
That  he  was  to  marry  no  other  wife, 
And  she  's  to  marry  no  otlier  man. 

10  When  seven  years  were  past  and  gane. 
This  young  lady  began  to  lang. 
And  she  's  awa  to  Lundin  gane, 

To  see  if  Brechin  's  got  safe  to  land. 

59 


11  When  she  came  to  Young  Brechin's  yett, 

She  chappit  gently  at  the  gin  ; 
'  Is  this  Young  Brechin's  yett  ? '  she  says, 

'  Or  is  this  lusty  lord  within  ?  ' 
'  0  yes,  this  is  Lord  Brechin's  yett. 

And  I  wat  this  be  his  bridal  een.' 

12  She 's  put  her  hand  in  her  pocket, 

And  thrawin  the  porter  guineas  three  ; 
'  Gang  up  the  stair,  young  man,'  she  says, 
'  And  bid  your  master  come  down  to  me. 

13  '  Bid  him  bring  a  bite  o  his  ae  best  bread. 

And  a  bottle  o  his  ae  best  wine. 
And  neer  forget  that  lady  fair 
That  did  him  out  o  prison  bring.' 

14  The  porter  tripped  up  the  stair. 

And  fell  low  down  upon  his  knee  : 
'  Rise  up,  rise  up,  ye  proud  porter, 
Wliat  mean  you  by  this  courtesie  ?  ' 

15  '  0  I  hae  been  porter  at  your  yett 

This  thirty  years  and  a'  but  three ; 
There  stands  the  fairest  lady  thereat 
That  ever  my  twa  een  did  see. 

16  '  On  evry  finger  she  has  a  ring, 

On  her  mid-finger  she  has  three  ; 
She  's  as  much  gold  on  her  horse's  neck 
As  wad  by  a  earldom  o  land  to  me. 

17  '  She  bids  you  send  o  your  ae  best  bread, 

And  a  bottle  o  your  ae  best  wine. 
And  neer  forget  the  lady  fair 
That  out  o  prison  did  you  bring.' 

18  He  's  taen  the  table  wi  his  foot. 

And  made  the  cups  and  cans  to  flee  : 
'  I  '11  wager  a'  the  lands  I  hae 

That  Susan  Pye  's  come  oer  the  sea.' 


19  Then  up  and  spak  the  bride's  mother : 

'  And  O  an  ill  deid  may  ye  die  ! 
If  ye  didna  except  the  bonny  bride. 
Ye  might  hae  ay  excepted  me.' 

20  '  O  ye  are  fair,  and  fair,  madam. 

And  ay  the  fairer  may  ye  be  ! 
But  the  fairest  day  tliat  eer  ye  saw. 
Ye  were  neer  sae  fair  as  yon  lady.' 


466 


53.    YOUNG  BEICHAN 


21  0  when  these  lovers  two  did  meet, 

The  tear  it  blinded  baith  their  ee  ; 
'  Gie  me  my  faith  and  troth,'  she  says, 
'  For  now  fain  hame  wad  I  be.' 

22  '  Tak  hame  your  daughter,  madam,'  he  says, 

'  She  's  neer  a  bit  the  war  o  me  ; 
Except  a  kiss  o  her  bonny  lips. 
Of  her  body  I  am  free  ; 


She  came  to  me  on  a  single  horse, 

Now  I  '11  send  her  hame  in  chariots  three.' 

23  He  's  taen  her  by  the  milk-white  hand. 
And  he  's  led  her  to  a  yard  o  stane  ; 
He  's  changed  her  name  frae  Susan  Pye, 
And  calld  her  lusty  Lady  Jane. 


0 


a.  Jamieson-Brown  MS.,  fol.  11.     b.  Jamieson's  Popular 
Ballads,  II,  127. 

1  Young  Bekie  was  as  brave  a  knight 

As  ever  saUd  the  sea  ; 
An  he  's  doen  him  to  the  court  of  France, 
To  serve  for  meat  and  fee. 

2  He  had  nae  been  i  the  court  of  France 

A  twelvemonth  nor  sae  long. 
Til  he  fell  in  love  with  the  king's  daughter. 
An  was  thrown  in  prison  strong. 

3  The  king  he  had  but  ae  daughter, 

Burd  Isbel  was  her  name  ; 
An  she  has  to  the  prison-house  gane, 
To  hear  the  prisoner's  mane. 

4  '  0  gin  a  lady  woud  borrow  me. 

At  her  stirrup-foot  I  woud  rin  ; 
Or  gin  a  widow  wad  borrow  me, 
I  woud  swear  to  be  her  son. 

5  '  Or  gin  a  virgin  woud  borrow  me, 

I  woud  wed  her  wi  a  ring ; 
I  'd  gi  her  ha's,  I  'd  gie  her  bowers, 
The  bonny  towrs  o  Linne.' 

6  0  barefoot,  barefoot  gaed  she  but. 

An  barefoot  came  she  ben  ; 
It  was  no  for  want  o  hose  an  shoone, 
Nor  time  to  put  them  on. 

7  But  a'  for  fear  that  her  father  dear 

Had  heard  her  making  din  : 
She  'b  stown  the  keys  o  the  prison-house  dor 
An  latten  the  prisoner  gang. 


8  O  whan  she  saw  him,  Young  Bekie, 

Her  heart  was  wondrous  sair ! 
For  the  mice  but  an  the  bold  rottons 
Had  eaten  his  yaUow  hair. 

9  She  's  gien  him  a  shaver  for  his  beard, 

A  comber  tiU  his  hair. 
Five  hunder  pound  in  his  pocket. 
To  spen,  an  nae  to  spair. 

10  She  's  gien  him  a  steed  was  good  in  need, 

An  a  saddle  o  royal  bone, 
A  leash  o  hounds  o  ae  litter. 
An  Hector  called  one. 

11  Atween  this  twa  a  vow  was  made, 

'T  was  made  full  solemnly, 
That  or  three  years  was  come  an  gane. 
Well  married  they  shoud  be. 

12  He  had  nae  been  in  's  ain  country 

A  twelvemonth  till  an  end. 
Till  he 's  forcd  to  marry  a  duke's  daughter. 
Or  than  lose  a'  his  land. 

13  '  Ohon,  alas  ! '  says  Young  Beckie, 

'  I  know  not  what  to  dee  ; 
For  I  canno  win  to  Burd  Isbel, 
And  she  kensnae  to  come  to  me.' 

14  0  it  fell  once  upon  a  day 

Burd  Isbel  fell  asleep. 
An  up  it  starts  the  Belly  Blin, 
An  stood  at  her  bed-feet. 

15  '  O  waken,  waken,  Burd  Isbel, 

How  [can]  you  sleep  so  soun, 
Whan  this  is  Bekie's  wedding  day. 
An  the  marriage  gain  on  ? 


53.    YOUNG  BEICHAN 


467 


16  '  Ye  do  ye  to  your  mitlier's  bowr, 

Think  neither  sin  nor  shame  ; 
An  ye  tak  twa  o  your  mither's  marys, 
To  keep  ye  frae  thinking  lang. 

17  '  Ye  dress  yoursel  in  the  red  scarlet, 

An  your  marys  in  dainty  green, 
An  ye  pit  girdles  about  your  middles 
Woud  buy  an  earldome. 

18  '  O  ye  gang  down  by  yon  sea-side, 

An  down  by  yon  searstran  ; 
Sae  bonny  will  the  HoUans  boats 
Come  rowin  till  your  han. 

19  '  Ye  set  your  milk-white  foot  abord, 

Cry,  Hail  ye,  Domine  ! 
An  I  shal  be  the  steerer  o  't, 
To  row  you  oer  the  sea.' 

20  She  's  tane  her  tUl  her  mither's  bowr. 

Thought  neither  sin  nor  shame. 
An  she  took  twa  o  her  mither's  marys, 
To  keep  her  frae  thinking  lang. 

21  She  dressd  hersel  i  the  red  scarlet. 

Her  marys  i  dainty  green. 
And  they  pat  girdles  about  their  middles 
Woud  buy  an  earldome. 

22  An  they  gid  down  by  yon  searside, 

An  down  by  yon  sea-stran ; 
Sae  bonny  did  the  HoUan  boats 
Come  rowin  to  their  han. 

23  She  set  her  milk-white  foot  on  board, 

Cried,  Hail  ye,  Domine  ! 
An  the  Belly  Blin  was  the  steerer  o  't, 
To  row  her  oer  the  sea. 

24  Whan  she  came  to  Young  Bekie's  gate, 

She  heard  the  music  play  ; 
Sae  well  she  kent  frae  a'  she  heard, 
It  was  his  wedding  day. 

25  She  's  pitten  her  han  in  her  pocket, 

Gin  the  porter  guineas  three  ; 
'  Hae,  tak  ye  that,  ye  proud  porter. 
Bid  the  bride-groom  speake  to  me.' 

26  0  whan  that  he  cam  up  the  stair. 

He  fell  low  down  on  his  knee  : 


He  haild  the  king,  an  he  haild  the  queen, 
An  he  haild  him.  Young  Bekie. 

27  '  O  I  've  been  porter  at  your  gates 

Tliis  thirty  years  an  three  ; 
But  there 's  three  ladies  at  them  now, 
Their  like  I  never  did  see. 

28  '  There  's  ane  o  them  dressd  in  red  scarlet, 

And  twa  in  dainty  green, 
An  they  hae  girdles  about  their  middles 
Woud  buy  an  earldome.' 

29  Tlien  out  it  spake  the  bierly  bride. 

Was  a'  goud  to  the  chin  ; 
'  Gin  she  be  braw  without,'  she  says, 
'  We  's  be  as  braw  within.' 

30  Then  up  it  starts  him,  Young  Bekie, 

An  the  tears  was  in  his  ee : 
'  I  '11  lay  my  life  it 's  Burd  Isbel, 
Come  oer  the  sea  to  me.' 

31  O  quickly  ran  he  down  the  stair. 

An  whan  he  saw  't  was  shee. 
He  kindly  took  her  in  his  arms. 
And  kissd  her  tenderly. 

32  '  0  hae  ye  forgotten.  Young  Bekie, 

The  vow  ye  made  to  me, 
Whan  I  took  you  out  o  the  prison  strong, 
Whan  ye  was  condemnd  to  die  ? 

33  '  I  gae  you  a  steed  was  good  in  need; 

An  a  saddle  o  royal  bone, 
A  leash  o  hounds  o  ae  litter. 
An  Hector  called  one.' 

34  It  was  well  kent  what  the  lady  said, 

That  it   wasnae  a  lee. 
For  at  ilka  word  the  lady  spake. 
The  hound  fell  at  her  knee. 

36  '  Tak  hame,  tak  hame  your  daughter  dear, 
A  blessing  gae  her  wi. 
For  I  maun  marry  my  Burd  Isbel, 
That 's  come  oer  the  sea  to  me.' 

36  '  Is  this  the  custom  o  your  house. 
Or  the  fashion  o  your  Ian, 
To  marry  a  maid  in  a  May  moi-nin. 
An  send  her  back  at  even  ?  ' 


468 


53.    YOUNG  BEICHAN 


Skene  MSS,  p.  70.  North  of  Scotland,  1802-3. 

1  Young  Beachen  was  born  in  fair  London, 

And  foreign  lands  he  langed  to  see ; 
He  was  taen  by  the  savage  Moor, 
An  the  used  him  most  cruellie. 

2  Through  his  showlder  they  pat  a  bore. 

And  through  the  bore  the  pat  a  tree ; 
They  made  him  trail  their  ousen  carts, 
And  they  used  him  most  cruellie. 

3  The  savage  Moor  had  ae  daughter, 

I  wat  her  name  was  Susan  Pay  ; 
An  she  is  to  the  prison  house, 
To  hear  the  prisoner's  moan. 

4  He  made  na  his  moan  to  a  stocke. 

He  made  na  it  to  a  stone, 
But  it  was  to  the  Queen  of  Heaven 
That  he  made  his  moan. 

5  '  Gin  a  lady  wad  borrow  me, 

I  at  her  foot  wad  run  ; 
An  a  widdow  wad  borrow  me, 
I  wad  become  her  son. 

6  '  But  an  a  maid  wad  borrow  me, 

I  wad  wed  her  wi  a  ring  ; 
I  wad  make  her  lady  of  baas  and  bowers, 
An  of  the  high  towers  of  Line.' 

7  '  Sing  oer  yer  sang.  Young  Beachen,'  she  says, 

'  Sing  oer  yer  sang  to  me  ; ' 
'  I  never  sang  that  sang,  lady. 
But  I  wad  sing  to  thee. 

8  '  Gin  a  lady  wad  borrow  me, 

I  at  her  foot  wad  run  ; 
An  a  widdow  wad  borrow  me, 
I  wad  become  her  son. 

9  '  But  an  a  maid  wad  borrow  me, 

I  wad  wed  her  wi  a  ring ; 
I  wad  make  her  lady  of  haas  and  bowers, 
An  of  the  high  towers  of  Line.' 

10  Saftly,  [saftly]  gaed  she  but, 
An  saftlly  gaed  she  ben, 
It  was  na  for  want  of  hose  nor  shoon, 
Nor  time  to  pet  them  on. 


11 


An  she  has  staen  the  keys  of  the  prison, 
An  latten  Young  Beachen  gang. 

12  She  gae  him  a  leaf  of  her  white  bread. 

An  a  bottle  of  her  wine. 
She  bad  him  mind  on  the  lady's  love 
That  freed  him  out  of  jiine. 

13  She  gae  him  a  steed  was  guid  in  need, 

A  saddle  of  the  bane. 
Five  hundred  pown  in  his  pocket, 
Bad  him  gae  sj)eeding  hame. 

14  An  a  leash  of  guid  grayhounds, 


15  Whan  seven  lang  years  were  come  and  gane, 

Shusie  Pay  tliought  lang. 
An  she  is  on  to  fair  London, 
As  fast  as  she  could  gang. 

16  Whan  she  cam  to  Young  Beachen's  gate, 

'  Is  Young  Beachan  at  hame. 
Or  is  he  in  this  countrie  ?  ' 

17  '  He  is  at  hame,  is  hear,'  they  said, 

An  sighan  says  her  Susie  Pay, 
Has  he  quite  forgotten  me  ? 

18  On  every  finger  she  had  a  ring. 

On  the  middle  finger  three  ; 
She  gae  the  porter  ane  of  them : 
'  Get  a  word  o  your  lord  to  me.' 

19  He  gaed  up  the  stair. 

Fell  low  down  on  his  knee  : 
'  Win  up,  my  proud  porter, 
What  is  your  will  wi  me  ?  ' 

20  '  I  hae  been  porter  at  yer  gate 

This  thirty  year  and  three  ; 
The  fairst  lady  is  at  yer  gate 
Mine  eyes  did  ever  see.' 

21  Out  spak  the  bride's  mither, 

An  a  haglity  woman  was  she  : 


53.    YOUNG  BEICHAN 


469 


'  If  ye  had  na  eccepted  tlie  bonny  bride, 
Ye  might  well  ha  eccepted  me.' 

22  '  No  disparagement  to  you,  madam, 

Nor  none  unto  her  Grace  ; 
The  sole  of  yonr  lady's  foot 
Is  fairer  than  her  face.' 

23  He  's  gaen  the  table  wi  his  foot, 

And  couped  it  wi  his  knee  : 
'  I  wad  my  head  and  a'  my  land 
'T  is  Susie  Pay,  come  oer  the  sea.' 

24  The  stair  was  thirty  steps, 

I  wat  he  made  them  three  ; 
He  took  her  in  his  arms  twa  : 
'  Susie  Pay,  ye'r  welcome  to  me.' 

25  '  Gie  me  a  shive  of  your  white  bread, 

An  a  bottle  of  your  wine  ; 
Dinna  ye  mind  on  the  lady's  love 
That  freed  ye  out  of  pine  ?  ' 


26  He  took  her         .... 

Down  to  yon  garden  green, 
An  changed  her  name  fra  Susie  Pay, 
An  called  her  bonny  Lady  Jean. 

27  '  Yer  daughter  came  here  on  high  horse-back, 

She  sal  gae  hame  in  coaches  three. 
An  I  sail  double  her  tocher  our, 
She  's  nane  the  war  o  me.' 

28  '  It 's  na  the  fashion  o  our  countrie, 

Nor  yet  o  yer  nane. 
To  wed  a  maid  in  the  morning, 
An  send  her  hame  at  een.' 

29  '  It 's  na  the  fashion  o  my  countrie, 

Nor  is  it  of  my  nane. 
But  I  man  mind  on  the  lady's  love 
That  freed  me  out  of  pine.' 


E 


Jamieson's  Popular  Ballads,  II,  117,  compounded  from  A, 
a  manuscript  and  a  stall  copy  from  Scotland,  a  recited  copy 
from  the  north  of  England,  and  a  short  version  picked  off  a 
wall  in  London.  (The  parts  which  repeat  A  arc  in  smaller 
type.) 

1  In  London  was  Young;  Beichan  bom, 

He  longed  strange  countries  for  to  see, 
But  he  was  taen  by  a  savage  Moor, 
Who  handled  him  right  crueUie. 

2  For  he  viewed  the  fashions  of  that  land, 

Their  way  of  worship  viewed  he. 
But  to  Mahonnd  or  Termagant 
Would  Beichan  never  bend  a  knee. 

3  So  in  every  shoulder  they  've  pntten  a  bore. 

In  every  bore  they  've  putten  a  tree. 
And  they  have  made  him  trail  the  wine 
And  spices  on  his  fair  bodie. 

4  They  've  casten  him  in  a  dungeon  deep, 

Where  he  could  neither  hear  nor  see, 

For  seven  years  they  kept  him  there. 

Till  he  for  hunger  's  like  to  die. 

5  This  Moor  he  had  but  ae  daughter, 

Her  name  was  called  Susie  Pje, 
And  every  day  as  she  took  the  air, 
Near  Beichan's  prison  she  passed  by. 

6  O  so  it  fell  opon  a  day 

She  heard  Young  Beichan  sadly  sing  : 


'My  hounds  they  all  go  mnslerless. 
My  hawks  they  flee  from  tree  to  tree, 

My  younger  brother  will  heir  my  land, 
Fair  England  again  I  '11  never  see  ! ' 

7  All  night  long  no  rest  she  got. 

Young  Beichan's  song  for  thinking  on  ; 
She  's  stown  the  keys  from  her  father's  head. 
And  to  the  prison  strong  is  gone. 

8  And  she  has  opend  the  prison  doors, 

I  wot  she  opend  two  or  three. 
Ere  she  could  come  Young  Beichan  at. 
He  was  locked  up  so  curiouslie. 

9  But  when  she  came  Young  Beichan  before. 

Sore  wonderd  he  that  may  to  see ; 
He  took  her  for  some  fair  captive  :  , 
'  Fair  Lady,  I  pray,  of  what  countrie  ?  ' 

10  '  0  have  ye  any  lands,'  she  said, 

•  Or  castles  in  your  own  countrie, 
That  ye  could  give  to  a  lady  fair. 
From  prison  strong  to  set  you  free  ? ' 

1 1  '  Near  London  town  I  have  a  ball. 

With  other  castles  two  or  three; 
1 11  give  them  all  to  the  lady  fair 
That  out  of  prison  will  set  me  free.' 

12  '  Give  me  the  truth  of  your  right  hand. 

The  truth  of  it  give  unto  me, 
That  for  seven  years  ye  '11  no  lady  wed. 
Unless  it  be  along  with  me.' 


470 


53.    YOUNG  BEICHAN 


13  '  I  '11  give  thee  the  trnth  of  my  right  hand. 

The  truth  of  it  I  'U  freely  gie, 
That  for  seven  years  I'll  stay  unwed, 
For  the  kindness  thou  dost  show  to  me.' 

14  And  she  has  brib'd  the  proud  warder 

Wi  mickle  gold  and  white  monie, 
She  's  gotten  the  keys  of  the  prison  strong, 
And  she  has  set  Young  Beichan  free. 

15  She'  8  gien  him  to  eat  the  good  spice-cake, 

She  's  gien  him  to  drink  the  blood-red  wine, 
She's  bidden  him  sometimes  think  on  her. 
That  sae  kindly  freed  him  out  of  pine. 

16  She's  broken  a  ring  from  her  finger, 

And  to  Beichnn  half  of  it  gave  she  : 
'  Keep  it,  to  mind  you  of  that  love 
The  lady  bore  that  set  you  free. 

1 7  '  And  set  your  foot  on  good  ship-board, 

And  haste  ye  back  to  your  own  countrie, 
And  before  that  seven  years  have  an  end, 
Come  back  again,  love,  and  marry  me.' 

18  But  long  ere  seven  years  had  an  end. 

She  longd  full  sore  her  love  to  see, 
For  ever  a  voice  within  her  breast 

Said,  '  Beiclian  has  broke  liis  vow  to  thee  : ' 
So  she  's  set  her  foot  on  good  ship-board, 

And  turnd  her  back  on  her  own  countrie. 

1 9  She  sailed  east,  she  sailed  west. 

Till  to  fair  England's  shore  she  came, 
Where  a  bonny  sliepherd  she  espied. 
Feeding  his  sheep  upon  the  plain. 

20  '  What  news,  what  news,  thou  bonny  shepherd  f 

What  news  hast  thou  to  tell  to  me  f ' 
'  Such  news  I  hear,  ladie,'  he  says, 
'  The  like  was  never  in  this  countrie. 

21  '  There  is  a  wedding  in  yonder  hall, 

Has  lasted  these  thirty  days  and  three ; 
Young  Beichan  will  not  bed  with  his  bride, 
For  love  of  one  that 's  yond  the  sea.' 

22  She  's  put  her  hand  in  her  pocket, 

Gien  him  the  gold  and  white  monie  : 
'  Hae,  take  ye  that,  my  bonny  boy. 
For  the  good  news  thou  tellst  to  me.' 

23  When  she  came  to  Young  Beichan's  gate. 

She  tirled  softly  at  the  pin  ; 
So  ready  was  the  proud  porter 
To  open  and  let  this  lady  in. 

24  'Is  this  Young  Beichan's  hall,'  she  said, 

'  Or  is  that  noble  lord  withhi  ?  ' 
'  Yea,  he 's  in  the  hall  among  them  all. 
And  this  is  the  day  o  his  weddin.' 

2.5  '  And  has  lie  wed  anither  love  ^ 
And  has  he  clean  forgotten  me  V  ' 


And  sighin  said  that  gay  ladie, 
I  wish  I  were  in  my  own  countrie  ! 

26  And  she  has  taen  her  gay  gold  ring, 

That  with  her  love  she  brake  so  free; 
Says,  Gie  him  that,  ye  proud  porter. 
And  bid  the  bridegroom  speak  to  me. 

27  When  the  porter  came  his  lord  before, 

He  kneeled  down  low  on  his  knee: 

'  What  aileth  thee,  my  proud  porter, 

Thou  art  so  full  of  courtesie?  ' 

28  '  I  've  been  porter  at  your  gates. 

It 's  thirty  long  years  now  and  three; 
But  there  stands  a  lady  at  them  now. 
The  hke  o  her  did  I  never  see. 

29  '  For  on  every  finger  she  has  a  ring. 

And  on  her  mid-finger  she  has  three. 
And  as  meickle  gold  aboon  her  brow 
As  would  buy  an  earldom  to  me.' 

30  It 's  out  then  spak  the  bride's  mother. 

Aye  and  an  angry  woman  was  shee : 
'  Ye  might  have  excepted  our  bonny  bride, 
And  twa  or  three  of  our  companie.' 

31  '  O  hold  your  tongue,  thou  bride's  mother. 

Of  all  your  folly  let  me  be  ; 
She  's  ten  times  fairer  nor  tiie  bride. 
And  all  that 's  in  your  companie. 

32  '  She  begs  one  sheave  of  your  white  bread, 

But  and  a  cup  of  your  red  wine, 
And  to  remember  the  lady's  love 
That  last  relievd  you  out  of  pine.' 

33  '  O  wcU-a-day  ! '  said  Beichan  then, 

'  That  I  so  soon  have  married  thee  ! 
For  it  can  be  none  but  Susie  Pye, 
That  sailed  the  sea  for  love  of  me.' 

34  And  quickly  hied  he  down  the  stair; 

Of  fifteen  steps  he  made  but  tlu'ee ; 

He  's  taen  his  bonny  love  in  his  arms, 

And  kist  and  kist  her  teuderlie. 

35  '  0  hae  ye  taen  anither  bride? 

And  hae  ye  quite  forgotten  me? 
And  hae  ye  quite  forgotten  her 
That  gave  you  life  and  Ubertie?  ' 

36  She  looked  oer  her  left  shoulder. 

To  hide  the  tears  stood  in  her  ee : 
'  Now  fare  thee  well.  Young  Beichan,'  she  says, 
'  I  '11  try  to  think  no  more  on  thee.' 

37  '  O  never,  never,  Susie  Pye,  . 

For  surely  this  can  never  be. 
Nor  ever  shall  I  wed  but  her 

That 's  done  and  dreed  so  much  for  me.' 


53.    YOUNG  BEICHAN 


471 


38  Then  out  and  spak  the  forenoon  bride  : 

'  My  lord,  jour  love  it  changcth  soon  ; 
This  morning  I  was  made  your  bride, 
And  another  chose  ere  it  be  noon.' 

39  0  hold  thy  tongne,  thou  forenoon  bride. 

Ye  're  neer  a  whit  the  worse  for  me, 
And  whan  ye  return  to  your  own  conntrie, 
A  double  dower  I  '11  send  with  thee.' 


40  He 's  taen  Susie  Pye  by  the  white  hand, 

And  gently  led  her  up  and  down. 
And  ay  as  he  kist  her  red  rosy  lips, 
'  Ye  're  welcome,  jewel,  to  your  own.' 

41  He  's  taen  her  by  the  milk-white  hand, 

And  led  her  to  yon  fountain  stane; 
He  's  changed  her  name  from  Susie  Pye, 

And  he  's  call'd  her  big  bonny  love,  Lady  Jane, 


Pitcaim's  MSS,  III,  159,  1817-25.    From  the  recitation  of 
Widow  Stevenson,  aged  seventy-three  :  "  East  Country." 

1  In  the  lands  where  Lord  Beichan  was  bom, 

Amang  the  stately  steps  of  stane. 

He  wore  the  goud  at  his  left  shoulder, 

But  to  the  Holy  Land  he  's  gane. 

2  He  was  na  lang  in  the  Holy  Land, 

Amang  the  Prudents  that  was  black, 
He  was  na  lang  in  the  Holy  Land, 

Till  the  Prudent  did  Lord  Beichan  talc. 

3  The  gard  him  draw  baith  pleugh  and  harrow, 

And  horse  and  oxen  twa  or  three ; 
They  cast  him  in  a  dark  dungeon, 
Whare  he  coud  neither  hear  nor  see. 

4  The  Prudent  had  a  fair  daughter, 

I  wot  they  ca'd  her  Susy  Pye, 
And  aU  the  keys  in  that  city 
Hang  at  that  lady  by  and  bye. 

6  It  once  fell  out  upon  a  day 

That  into  the  prison  she  did  gae. 
And  whan  she  cam  to  the  prison  door, 
She  kneeled  low  down  on  her  knee. 

6  '  O  hae  ye  ony  lands,  Beichan, 

Or  hae  ye  ony  castles  hie, 
Whar  ye  wad  tak  a  young  thing  to. 
If  out  of  prison  I  wad  let  thee  ?  ' 

7  '  Fair  London 's  mine,  dear  lady,'  he  said, 

'  And  other  places  twa  or  three, 
Whar  I  wad  tak  a  young  thing  to, 
If  out  of  prison  ye  wad  let  me.' 

8  0  she  has  opened  the  prison  door, 

And  other  places  twa  or  three, 


And  gien  him  bread,-  and  wine  to  drink, 
In  her  own  chamber  privately. 

9  O  then  she  buUt  a  bonny  ship, 
And  she  has  set  it  on  the  main, 
And  she  has  built  a  bonny  ship. 
It 's  for  to  tak  Lord  Beichan  hame. 

10  0  she  's  gaen  murning  up  and  down. 

And  she  's  gaen  murnin  to  the  sea. 
Then  to  her  father  she  has  gane  in, 
Wha  spak  to  her  right  angrily. 

11  '  0  do  ye  mourn  for  the  goud,  daughter, 

Or  do  ye  mourn  for  the  whyte  monie  ? 
Or  do  ye  mourn  for  the  English  squire  ? 
I  wat  I  will  gar  hang  him  hie.' 

12  '  I  neither  mourn  for  the  goud,  father, 

Nor  do  I  for  the  whyte  monie. 
Nor  do  I  for  the  English  squire  ; 
And  I  care  na  tho  ye  hang  him  hie. 

13  '  But  I  hae  promised  an  errand  to  go. 

Seven  lang  miles  ayont  the  sea, 
And  blythe  and  merry  I  never  will  be 
UntiU  that  errand  you  let  me.' 

14  '  That  errand,  daughter,  you  may  gang. 

Seven  long  miles  beyond  the  sea. 
Since  blythe  and  merry  you  '11  neer  be 
UntiU  that  errand  I  '11  let  thee.' 

15  0  she  has  buUt  a  bonny  ship. 

And  she  has  set  it  in  the  sea, 
And  she  has  built  a  bonny  ship. 

It 's  all  for  to  tak  her  a  long  journie. 

16  And  she  's  saUed  a'  the  summer  day, 

I  wat  the  wind  blew  wondrous  fair  ; 
In  sight  of  fair  London  she  has  come. 
And  tUl  Lord  Beichan's  yett  she  walked. 


472 


53.    YOUKG  BEICHAN 


17  Whan  she  cam  till  Lord  Beichan's  yett, 

She  rappit  loudly  at  the  pin  : 
'  Is  Beichan  lord  of  this  bonny  place  ? 
I  pray  ye  open  and  let  me  in. 

18  '  And  O  is  this  Lord  Beichan's  yett, 

And  is  the  noble  lord  within  ?  ' 
'  0  yes,  it  is  Lord  Beichan's  yett, 
He  's  wi  his  bride  and  mony  a  ane.' 

19  'If  you  '11  gang  up  to  Lord  Beichan, 

Tell  him  the  words  that  I  tell  thee  ; 
It  will  put  him  in  mind  of  Susy  Pye, 
And  the  Holy  Land,  whareer  he  be. 

20  '  Tell  him  to  send  one  bite  of  bread, 

It 's  and  a  glass  of  his  gude  red  wine. 
Nor  to  forget  the  lady's  love 

That  loosed  him  out  of  prison  strong.' 


21  '  I  hae  been  porter  at  your  yett, 

I  'm  sure  this  therty  lang  years  and  three. 
But  the  fairest  lady  stands  thereat 
That  evir  my  twa  eyes  did  see. 

22  '  On  ilka  finger  she  has  a  ring. 

And  on  the  foremost  she  has  three  ; 
As  muckle  goud  is  on  her  head 

As  wad  buy  an  earldom  of  land  to  thee. 

23  '  She  bids  you  send  a  bite  of  bread. 

It 's  and  a  glass  of  your  gude  red  wine, 
Nor  to  forget  the  lady's  love 

That  let  you  out  of  prison  strong.' 

24  It 's  up  and  spak  the  bride's  mother, 

A  weight  of  goud  hung  at  her  chin  : 


'  There  is  no  one  so  fair  without 

But  there  are,  I  wat,  as  fair  witliin.' 

25  It 's  up  and  spak  the  bride  hersel. 

As  she  sat  by  the  gude  lord's  knee  : 
'  Awa,  awa,  ye  proud  porter. 

This  day  ye  might  hae  excepted  me.' 


26  '  Tak  hence,  tak  hence  your  fair  daughter, 

Tak  hame  your  daughter  fair  frae  me  ; 
For  saving  one  kiss  of  her  bonny  lips, 
I  'm  sure  of  her  body  I  am  free. 

27  '  Awa,  awa.  ye  proud  mither, 

It 's  tak  your  daughter  fair  frae  me  ; 
For  I  brought  her  home  with  chariots  six. 
And  I  '11  send  her  back  wi  coaches  three.' 

28  It 's  he  's  taen  the  table  wi  his  fit. 

And  syne  he  took  it  wi  his  knee ; 

He  gard  the  glasses  and  wine  so  red. 

He  gard  them  all  in  flinders  flee. 

29  0  he  's  gane  down  the  steps  of  stairs. 

And  a'  the  stately  steps  of  stane. 
Until  he  cam  to  Susy  Pye  ; 

I  wat  the  tears  blinded  baith  their  eyne. 

30  He  led  her  up  the  steps  of  stairs, 

And  a'  the  stately  steps  of  stane. 
And  changed  her  name  from  Susy  Pye, 
And  ca'd  her  lusty  Lady  Jane. 

31  '  O  fye,  gar  cooks  mak  ready  meat, 

0  fye,  gar  cooks  the  pots  supply, 
That  it  may  be  talked  of  in  fair  London, 

1  've  been  twice  married  in  ae  day.' 


Communicated  by  Mr  Alexander  Laing,  of  Newburg-on- 
Tay,  as  derived  from  the  recitation  of  Miss  Walker. 


'  They  're  a'  Lord  Beekin's  sheep. 
They  're  a'  Lord  Beekin's  kye  ; 

They  're  a'  Lord  Beekin's  castles. 
That  you  sae  often  do  pass  bye.' 


1  '  0  WHA  's  aught  a'  yon  flock  o  sheep. 
An  wha  's  aught  a'  yon  flock  o  kye  ? 
An  wha  's  aught  a'  yon  pretty  castles. 
That  you  sae  often  do  pass  bye  ? ' 


3  He  's  tane  [the]  table  wi  his  feet. 
Made  cups  an  candlesticks  to  flee  ; 
'  I  '11  lay  my  life  't  is  Susy  Pie, 
Come  owr  the  seas  to  marry  me.' 


53.    YOUNG  BEICHAN 


473 


Kinloch's  Ancient  Scottish  Ballads,  p.  260. 

1  Young  Beichax  was  in  London  bom, 

He  was  a  man  of  hie  degree ; 
He  past  thro  monie  kingdoms  great, 
Until  he  cam  unto  Grand  Turkic. 

2  He  viewd  the  fashions  of  that  land, 

Their  way  of  worship  viewed  he, 
But  unto  onie  of  their  stocks 

He  wadna  sae  much  as  bow  a  knee  : 

3  Which  made  him  to  be  taken  straight, 

And  brought  afore  their  hie  jurie  ; 
The  savage  Moor  did  speak  upvicht. 
And  made  him  meikle  ill  to  dree. 

4  In  ilka  shoulder  they  've  bord  a  hole, 

And  in  ilka  hole  they  've  put  a  tree ; 
They  've  made  him  to  draw  carts  and  wains, 
TiU  he  was  sick  and  like  to  dee. 

5  But  Young  Beichan  was  a  Christian  born. 

And  still  a  Christian  was  he  ; 
Which  made  them  put  him  in  prison  Strang, 

And  cauld  and  hunger  sair  to  dree, 
And  fed  on  nocht  but  bread  and  water, 

UntU  the  day  that  he  mot  dee. 

6  In  this  prison  there  grew  a  tree, 

And  it  was  unco  stout  and  Strang, 
Where  he  was  chained  by  the  middle, 
UntU  his  life  was  almaist  gane. 

7  The  savage  Moor  had  but  ae  dochter, 

And  her  name  it  was  Susie  Pye, 
And  Uka  day  as  she  took  the  air. 
The  prison  door  she  passed  bye. 

8  But  it  fell  ance  upon  a  day. 

As  she  was  walking,  she  heard  him  sing ; 
She  listend  to  his  tale  of  woe, 
A  happy  day  for  Young  Beichan ! 

9  '  My  hounds  they  all  go  masterless. 

My  hawks  they  flee  frae  tree  to  tree. 
My  youngest  brother  wiU  heir  my  lands, 
My  native  land  I  'U  never  see.' 


I  soon  wad  set  this  youth  at  large. 
And  send  him  to  his  ain  countrie.' 

11  She  went  away  into  her  chamber. 

All  nicht  she  never  closd  her  ee  ; 
And  when  the  morning  begoud  to  dawn. 
At  the  prison  door  alane  was  she. 

12  She  gied  the  keeper  a  piece  of  gowd, 

And  monie  pieces  o  wliite  monie. 
To  tak  her  thro  the  bolts  and  bars. 

The  lord  frae  Scotland  she  langd  to  see ; 
She  saw  young  Beichan  at  the  stake. 

Which  made  her  weep  maist  bitterlie. 

13  '  O  hae  ye  got  onie  lands,'  she  says, 

'  Or  castles  in  your  ain  countrie  ? 
It 's  what  wad  ye  gie  to  the  ladie  fair 
Wha  out  o  prison  wad  set  you  free  ? ' 

14  '  It 's  I  hae  houses,  and  I  hae  lands, 

Wi  monie  castles  fair  to  see. 
And  I  wad  gie  a'  to  that  ladie  gay, 
Wha  out  o  prison  wad  set  me  free.' 

15  The  keeper  syne  brak  aff  his  chains. 

And  set  Lord  Beichan  at  libertie  ; 
She  filld  his  pockets  baith  wi  gowd. 
To  tak  him  tiU  his  ain  countrie. 

16  She  took  him  frae  her  father's  prison. 

And  gied  to  him  the  best  o  wine. 
And  a  brave  health  she  drank  to  him : 
'  I  wish,  Lord  Beichan,  ye  were  mine  ! 

17  '  It 's  seven  lang  years  I  '11  mak  a  vow. 

And  seven  lang  years  I  'U  keep  it  true  ; 
If  ye  '11  wed  wi  na  ither  woman, 
It 's  I  will  wed  na  man  but  you.' 

18  She  's  tane  him  to  her  father's  port. 

And  gien  to  him  a  ship  o  fame : 
'  Farewell,  farewell,  my  Scottish  lord, 
I  fear  I  '11  neer  see  you  again.' 

19  Lord  Beichan  turnd  him  round  about. 

And  lowly,  lowly  loutit  he  : 
'  Ere  seven  lang  years  come  to  an  end, 
I  '11  tak  you  to  mine  ain  countjrie,' 


10  '  0  were  I  but  the  prison-keeper, 
As  I  'm  a  ladie  o  hie  degree, 
60 


474 


53.    YOUNG  BEICHAN 


20  Then  whan  he  cam  to  Glasgow  town, 

A  happy,  happy  man  was  he  ; 

The  ladies  a'  around  him  thrangd, 

To  see  him  come  frae  slaverie. 

21  His  mother  she  had  died  o  sorrow, 

And  a'  his  brothers  were  dead  but  he ; 
His  lands  they  a'  were  lying  waste. 
In  ruins  were  his  castles  free. 

22  Na  porter  there  stood  at  his  yett, 

Na  human  creature  he  could  see, 
Except  the  screeching  owls  and  bats, 
Had  he  to  bear  him  companie. 

23  But  gowd  will  gar  the  castles  grow. 

And  he  had  gowd  and  jewels  free, 
And  soon  the  pages  around  him  thrangd, 
To  serve  him  on  their  bended  knee. 

24  His  hall  was  hung  wi  silk  and  satin. 

His  table  rung  wi  mirth  and  glee. 
He  soon  forgot  the  lady  fair 
That  lowsd  him  out  o  slaverie. 

25  Lord  Beichan  courted  a  lady  gay. 

To  heir  wi  him  his  lands  sae  free, 
Neer  thinking  that  a  lady  fair 

Was  on  her  way  frae  Grand  Turkie. 

26  For  Susie  Pye  could  get  na  rest. 

Nor  day  nor  nicht  could  happy  be, 
Still  thinking  on  the  Scottish  lord, 
Till  she  was  sick  and  like  to  dee. 

27  But  she  has  builded  a  bonnie  ship, 

Weel  mannd  wi  seamen  o  hie  degree. 
And  secretly  she  stept  on  board, 
And  bid  adieu  to  her  ain  countrie. 

28  But  whan  she  cam  to  the  Scottish  shore. 

The  bells  were  ringing  sae  merrilie  ; 
It  was  Lord  Beichan's  wedding  day, 
Wi  a  lady  fair  o  hie  degree. 

29  But  sic  a  vessel  was  never  seen  ; 

The  very  masts  were  tappd  wi  gold. 
Her  sails  were  made  o  the  satin  fine, 
Maist  beautiful  for  to  behold. 

30  But  whan  the  lady  cam  on  shore. 

Attended  wi  her  pages  three, 


Her  shoon  were  of  the  beaten  gowd, 
And  she  a  lady  of  great  beautie. 

31  Then  to  the  skipper  she  did  say, 

'  Can  ye  this  answer  gie  to  me  ? 
Where  are  Lord  Beichan's  lands  sae  braid  ? 
He  surely  lives  in  this  countrie.' 

32  Then  up  bespak  the  skipper  bold, 

For  he  could  speak  the  Turkish  tongue  : 
'  Lord  Beichan  lives  not  far  away  ; 
This  is  the  day  of  his  wedding.' 

33  '  If  ye  wUl  guide  me  to  Beichan's  yetts, 

I  will  ye  well  reward,'  said  she  ; 
Then  she  and  all  her  pages  went, 
A  very  gallant  companie. 

34  When  she  cam  to  Lord  Beichan's  yetts. 

She  tirld  gently  at  the  pin  ; 
Sae  ready  was  the  proud  porter 
To  let  the  wedding  guests  come  in. 

35  '  Is  this  Lord  Beichan's  house,'  she  says, 

'  Or  is  that  noble  lord  within  ? ' 
'  Yes,  he  is  gane  into  the  haU, 

With  his  brave  bride  and  monie  ane.' 

36  '  Ye  '11  bid  him  send  me  a  piece  of  bread, 

Bot  and  a  cup  of  his  best  wine  ; 
And  bid  him  mind  the  lady's  love 
That  ance  did  lowse  him  out  o  pyne.' 

37  Then  in  and  cam  the  porter  bold, 

I  wat  he  gae  three  shouts  and  three  : 
'  The  fairest  lady  stands  at  your  yetts 
That  ever  my  twa  een  did  see.' 

38  Then  up  bespak  the  bride's  mither, 

I  wat  an  angry  woman  was  she  : 
*  You  micht  hae  excepted  our  bonnie  bride, 
Tho  she  'd  been  three  times  as  fair  as  she.' 

39  '  My  dame,  your  daughter  's  fair  enough. 

And  aye  the  fairer  mot  she  be  ! 

But  the  fairest  time  that  eer  she  was. 

She  '11  na  compare  wi  this  ladie. 

40  '  She  has  a  gowd  ring  on  ilka  finger. 

And  on  her  mid-finger  she  has  three ; 
She  has  as  meikle  gowd  upon  her  head 
As  wad  buy  an  earldom  o  land  to  thee. 


53.    YOUNG  BEICHAN 


475 


41  '  My  lord,  she  begs  some  o  your  bread, 

Bot  and  a  cup  o  your  best  wine, 
And  bids  you  mind  the  lady's  love 
That  ance  did  lowse  ye  out  o  pyne.' 

42  Then  up  and  stai-ted  Lord  Beichan, 

I  wat  he  made  the  table  flee  : 
'  I  wad  gie  a'  my  yearlie  rent 

'T  were  Susie  Pye  come  owre  the  sea.' 

43  Syne  up  bespak  the  bride's  mother, 

She  was  never  heard  to  speak  sae  free  : 
'  Ye  '11  no  forsake  my  ae  dochter, 
Tho  Susie  Pye  has  crossd  the  sea  ? ' 

44  '  Tak  hame,  tak  hame,  your  dochter,  madam. 

For  she  is  neer  the  waur  o  me  ; 


She  cam  to  me  on  horseback  riding, 

And  she  sail  gang  hame  in  chariot  free.' 

45  He  's  tane  Susie  Pye  by  the  milk-white  hand. 

And  led  her  thro  his  halls  sae  hie  : 
'  Ye  're  now  Lord  Beichan's  lawful  wife. 
And  thrice  ye  're  welcome  unto  me.' 

46  Lord  Beichan  prepard  for  another  wedding, 

Wi  baith  their  hearts  sae  f  u  o  glee  ; 
Says,  '  I  '11  range  na  mair  in  foreign  lands, 
Sin  Susie  Pye  has  crossd  the  sea. 

47  '  Fy  !  gar  a'  our  cooks  mak  ready. 

And  fy !  gar  a'  our  pipers  play, 
And  fy  !  gar  trumpets  gae  thro  the  toun, 
That   Lord   Beichan 's  wedded   twice  in  i 
day!' 


Communicated  by  Mr  David  Louden,  as  recited  by  Mrs 
Dodds,  Morham,  Haddington,  the  reciter  being  above  sev- 
enty in  1873. 

1  In  London  was  Young  Bechin  born. 

Foreign  nations  he  longed  to  see ; 
He  passed  through  many  kingdoms  great. 
At  length  he  came  unto  Turkic. 

2  He  viewed  the  fashions  of  that  land. 

The  ways  of  worship  viewed  he, 
But  unto  any  of  their  gods 

He  would  not  so  much  as  bow  the  knee. 


No  rest  she  got  till  she  came  to  him, 
All  in  his  lonely  prison  cell. 

7  '  I  have  a  hall  in  London  town. 

With  other  buildings  two  or  three. 
And  I  '11  give  them  all  to  the  ladye  fair 
That  from  this  dungeon  shall  set  me  free.' 

8  She  stole  the  keys  from  her  dad's  head. 

And  if  she  oped  one  door  ay  she  opened 
three, 
Till  she  Young  Bechin  could  find  out. 
He  was  locked  up  so  curiouslie. 


3  On  every  shoulder  they  made  a  bore. 

In  every  bore  they  put  a  tree, 
Then  they  made  him  the  winepress  tread. 
And  all  in  spite  of  his  fair  bodie. 

4  They  put  him  into  a  deep  dungeon, 

Where  he  could  neither  hear  nor  see, 
And  for  seven  years  they  kept  him  there. 
Till  for  hunger  he  was  like  to  die. 

5  Stephen,  their  king,  had  a  daughter  fair, 

Yet  never  a  man  to  her  came  nigh  ; 
And  every  day  she  took  the  air, 
Near  to  his  prison  she  passed  by. 

6  One  day  she  heard  Young  Bechin  sing 

A  song  that  pleased  her  so  well. 


9  '  I  've  been  a  porter  at  your  gate 

This  thirty  years  now,  ay  and  three  ; 
There  stands  a  ladye  at  your  gate, 
The  like  of  her  I  neer  did  see. 

10  '  On  every  finger  she  has  a  ring. 

On  the  mid-finger  she  has  three  ; 
She  's  as  much  gold  about  her  brow 
As  would  an  earldom  buy  to  me.' 


11  He  's  taen  her  by  the  milk-white  hand. 
He  gently  led  her  through  the  green  ; 
He  changed  her  name  from  Susie  Pie, 
An  he  's  called  her  lovely  Ladye  Jean. 


476 


53.    YOUNG  BEICHAN 


Dr  Joseph  Robertson's  Note-Book,  "  Adversaria,"  p.  85. 
From  tradition. 


1  She  's  taen  the  keys  frae  her  fadder's  coffer, 
Tho  he  keeps  them  most  sacredlie, 
And  she  has  opend  the  prison  strong, 
And  set  Young  Beichan  at  lihertie. 


3  She  's  put  her  han  intill  her  purse, 

And  gave  the  porter  guineas  three  ; 
Says,  '  Tak  ye  that,  ye  proud  porter. 
And  tell  your  master  to  speak  wi  me. 

4  '  Ye  '11  bid  him  bring  a  shower  o  his  best  love, 

But  and  a  bottle  o  his  wine, 
And  do  to  me  as  I  did  to  him  in  time  past, 
And  brought  him  out  o  muckle  pine.' 

5  He  's  taen  the  table  wi  his  foot. 

And  he  has  keppit  it  wi  his  knee : 
'  I  '11  wager  my  life  and  a'  my  Ian, 
It 's  Susan  Pie  come  ower  the  sea. 


Gae  up  the  countrie,  my  chile,'  she  says, 
'  Till  your  fadder's  wrath  be  turned  from 
thee.' 


6  '  Rise  up,  rise  up,  my  bonnie  bride. 

Ye  're  neither  better  nor  waur  for  me  ; 
Ye  cam  to  me  on  a  horse  and  saddle, 

But  ye  may  gang  back  in  a  coach  and  three.' 


K 


Communicated   by  Mr  David  Louden,  as  obtained  from 
Mrs  Dicljson,  Rentonhall. 


'  A  slice  of  bread  to  her  get  ready. 
And  a  bottle  of  the  best  of  wine  ; 

Not  to  forget  that  fair  young  ladye 

Who  did  release  thee  out  of  close  confine.' 


1  '  There  is  a  marriage  in  yonder  hall, 
Has  lasted  thirty  days  and  three  ; 
The  bridegroom  winna  bed  the  bride. 
For  the  sake  of  one  that 's  owre  the  sea.' 


2  '  What  news,  what  news,  my  brave  young  por- 
ter ? 
What  news,  what  news  have  ye  for  me  ? ' 
'  As  beautiful  a  ladye  stands  at  your  gate 
As  eer  my  two  eyes  yet  did  see.' 


4  Lord  Bechin  in  a  passion  flew. 

And  rent  himself  like  a  sword  in  three. 
Saying,  '  I  would  give  all  my  father's  riches 
If  my  Sophia  was  'cross  the  sea.' 

5  Up  spoke  the  young  bride's  mother. 

Who  never  was  heard  to  speak  so  free. 
Saying,   '  I   hope   you  'U   not  forget  my  only 
daughter. 
Though  your  Sophia  be  'cross  the  sea.' 

6  '  I  own  a  bride  I  've  wed  your  daughter. 

She  's  nothing  else  the  worse  of  me  ; 
She  came  to  me  on  a  horse  and  saddle, 
She  may  go  back  in  a  coach  and  three.' 


The  Loving   Ballad  of  Lord   Bateman.     Illustrated   by 
George  Cruiksliank.     1839. 

1  LoBD  Bateman  was  a  noble  lord, 
A  noble  lord  of  high  degree  ; 
He  sliipped  himself  all  aboard  of  a  ship, 
Some  foreign  country  for  to  see. 


2  He  saUed  east,  he  sailed  west, 

Until  he  came  to  famed  Turkey, 
Where  he  was  taken  and  put  to  prison. 
Until  his  life  was  quite  weary. 

3  All  in  this  prison  there  grew  a  tree, 

0  there  it  grew  so  stout  and  strong ! 
Where  he  was  chained  all  by  the  middle. 
Until  his  life  was  almost  gone. 


53.    YOTJNG  BEICHAN 


477 


4  This  Turk  he  had  one  only  daughter, 
The  fairest  my  two  eyes  eer  see  ; 
She  steel  the  keys  of  her  father's  prison, 

And  swore  Lord  Bateman  she  would  let  go 
free. 

6  O  she  took  him  to  her  father's  cellar, 
And  gave  to  him  the  best  of  wine  ; 
And  every  health  she  drank  unto  him 

Was,  '  I  wish.  Lord  Bateman,  as  you  was 
mine.' 

6  '  O  have  you  got  houses,  have  you  got  land. 

And  does  Northumberland  belong  to  thee  ? 
And  what  would  you  give  to  the  fair  young 
lady 
As  out  of  prison  would  let  you  go  free  ? ' 

7  '  O  I  've  got  houses  and  I  've  got  land. 

And  half  Northumberland  belongs  to  me  ; 
And  I  will  give  it  all  to  the  fair  young  lady 
As  out  of  prison  would  let  me  go  free.' 

8  '  O  in  seven  long  years,  I  'U  make  a  vow 

For  seven  long  yeai"s,  and  keep  it  strong, 
That  if  you  '11  wed  no  other  woman, 

0  I  will  wed  no  other  man.' 

9  0  she  took  him  to  her  father's  harbor. 

And  gave  to  him  a  ship  of  fame. 
Saying,  Farewell,  farewell  to  you.  Lord  Bate- 
man, 

1  fear  I  never  shall  see  you  again. 

10  Now  seven  long  years  is  gone  and  past. 

And  fourteen  days,  weU  known  to  me  ; 
She  packed  up  all  her  gay  clothing, 

And  swore  Lord  Bateman  she  would  go  see. 

11  O  when  she  arrived  at  Lord  Bateman's  castle. 

How  boldly  then  she  rang  the  bell  I 
'  Who  's  there  ?  who  's  there  ?  '  cries  the  proud 
young  porter, 
'  O  come  unto  me  pray  quickly  tell.' 

12  '  O  is  this  here  Lord  Bateman's  castle, 

And  is  liis  lordship  here  within  ?  ' 
'  0  yes,  O  yes,'  cries  the  proud  young  porter, 
'  He  's  just  now  taking  his  young  bride  in.' 


13  '  0  bid  him  to  send  me  a  slice  of  bread, 

And  a  bottle  of  the  very  best  wine. 
And  not  forgetting  the  fair  young  lady 
As  did  release  him  when  close  confine.' 

14  O  away  and  away  went  this  proud  young  por- 

ter, 
0  away  and  away  and  away  went  he, 
Until  he  come  to  Lord  Bateman's  chamber. 
When  he  went  down  on  his  bended  knee. 

15  '  What  news,  what  news,  my  proud  young  por- 

ter? 
What  news,  what  news  ?    Come  tell  to  me  : ' 
'  O  there  is  the  fairest  young  lady 
As  ever  my  two  eyes  did  see. 

16  '  She  has  got  rings  on  every  finger. 

And  on  one  finger  she  has  got  thi-ee  ; 
With  as  much  gay  gold  about  her  middle 
As  would  buy  half  Northumberlee. 

17  '  0  she  bids  you  to  send  her  a  slice  of  bread, 

And  a  bottle  of  the  very  best  wine, 
And  not  forgetting  the  fair  young  lady 
As  did  release  you  when  close  confine.' 

18  Lord  Bateman  then  in  passion  flew, 

And  broke  his  sword  in  splinters  three, 

Saying,  I  will  give  half  of  my  father's  land, 

If  so  be  as  Sophia  has  crossed  the  sea. 

19  Then  up  and  spoke  this  young  bride's  mother. 

Who  never  was  heard  to  speak  so  free ; 

Saying,  You  'U  not  forget  my  only  daughter. 

If  so  be  as  Sophia  has  crossed  the  sea. 

20  '  O  it 's  true  I  made  a  bride  of  your  daughter. 

But  she  's  neither  the  better  nor  the  worse 
for  me  ; 
She  came  to  me  with  a  horse  and  saddle. 
But  she  may  go  home  in  a  coach  and  three.' 

21  Lord   Bateman   then   prepared   another  mar- 

riage, 

With  both  their  hearts  so  full  of  glee, 
Saying,  I  will  roam  no  more  to  foreign  coun- 
tries, 

Now  that  Sophia  has  crossed  the  sea. 


478 


53.    YOUNG  BEICHAN 


M 

Buchan's  MSS,  I,  18.     J.  H. 
Versions  of  Ancient  Ballads,  p. 


Dixon,  Scottish  Traditional 


1  Young  Bonwell  was  a  squire's  ae  son. 

And  a  squire's  ae  son  was  he ; 
He  went  abroad  to  a  foreign  land. 
To  serve  for  meat  and  fee. 

2  He  hadna  been  in  that  country 

A  twalmonth  and  a  day, 
Till  he  was  cast  in  prison  strong, 
For  the  sake  of  a  lovely  may. 

3  '  O  if  my  father  get  word  of  this. 

At  hame  in  his  ain  country. 
He  '11  send  red  gowd  for  my  relief. 
And  a  bag  o  white  money. 

4  '  O  gin  an  earl  woud  borrow  me, 

At  his  bridle  I  woud  rin  ; 
Or  gin  a  widow  woud  borrow  me, 
I  'd  swear  to  be  her  son. 

5  '  Or  gin  a  may  woud  borrow  me, 

I  'd  wed  her  wi  a  ring, 
Infef t  her  wi  the  ha's  and  bowers 

0  the  bonny  towers  o  Linne.' 

6  But  it  fell  ance  upon  a  day 

Dame  Essels  she  thought  lang. 
And  she  is  to  the  jail-house  door. 
To  hear  Young  Bondwell's  sang. 

7  '  Sing  on,  sing  on,  my  bonny  Bondwell, 

The  sang  ye  sang  just  now  : ' 
'  I  never  sang  the  sang,  lady, 
But  I  woud  war  't  on  you. 

8  '  O  gin  my  father  get  word  o  this. 

At  hame  in  his  ain  country, 
He  '11  send  red  gowd  for  my  relief. 
And  a  bag  o  white  money. 

9  '  0  gin  an  earl  woud  borrow  me, 

At  his  bridle  I  woud  rin  ; 
Or  gin  a  widow  would  borrow  me, 

1  'd  swear  to  be  her  son. 

10  '  Or  gin  a  may  woud  borrow  me, 

I  woud  wed  her  wi  a  ring, 
Infef t  her  wi  the  ha's  and  bowers 
O  the  bonny  towers  o  Linne.' 

11  She 's  stole  the  keys  o  the  jail-house  door. 

Where  uuder  the  bed  they  lay  ; 
She 's  opend  to  him  the  jail-house  door. 
And  set  Young  Bondwell  free. 

12  She  gae  'm  a  steed  was  swift  in  need, 

A  saddle  o  royal  ben, 
A  hunder  pund  o  pennies  round, 
Bade  him  gae  roav  an  spend. 


13  A  couple  o  hounds  o  ae  litter, 

And  Cain  they  ca'd  the  one ; 
Twa  gay  gos-hawks  she  gae  likeways. 
To  keep  him  onthought  lang. 

14  When  mony  days  were  past  and  gane. 

Dame  Essels  thought  fell  lang. 
And  she  is  to  her  lonely  bower, 
To  shorten  her  wi  a  sang. 

(15  The  sang  had  such  a  melody, 
^ — -^    It  lulld  her  fast  asleep ; 

Up  starts  a  woman,  clad  in  green. 
And  stood  at  her  bed-feet. 

16  '  Win  up,  win  up.  Dame  Es.sels,'  she  says, 

'  This  day  ye  sleep  ower  lang ; 
The  morn  is  the  squire's  wedding  day. 
In  the  bonny  towers  o  Linne. 

17  '  Ye  '11  dress  yonrsell  in  the  robes  o  green. 

Your  maids  in  robes  sae  fair, 
And  ye  '11  put  girdles  about  their  middles, 
Sae  costly,  rich  and  rare. 

18  '  Ye  '11  take  your  maries  alang  wi  you, 

Till  ye  come  to  yon  strand ; 
There  ye  '11  see  a  ship,  wi  sails  all  up. 
Come  sailing  to  dry  land. 

19  '  Ye  '11  take  a  wand  into  your  hand. 

Ye  '11  stroke  her  round  about. 
And  ye '11  take  God  your  pilot  to  be, 
To  drown  ye  '11  take  nae  doubt.' 

20  Then  up  it  raise  her  Dame  Essels, 

Sought  water  to  wash  her  hands, 
But  aye  the  faster  that  she  washd. 
The  tears  they  trickling  ran. 

21  Then  in  it  came  her  father  dear. 

And  in  the  floor  steps  he  : 
'  What  ails  Dame  Essels,  my  daughter  dear. 
Ye  weep  sae  bitterlie  ? 

22  '  Want  ye  a  small  fish  frae  the  flood. 

Or  turtle  frae  the  sea  1 
Or  is  there  man  in  a'  my  realm 
This  day  has  offended  thee  t ' 

23  '  I  want  nae  small  fish  frae  the  flood, 

Nor  turtle  frae  the  sea; 
But  Young  Bondwell,  your  ain  prisoner, 
This  day  has  offended  me.' 

24  Her  father  turnd  him  round  about, 

A  solemn  oath  sware  he : 

'  If  this  be  true  ye  tell  me  now 

High  hanged  he  shall  be. 

25  '  To-morrow  morning  he  shall  be 

Hung  high  upon  a  tree  : ' 
Dame  Essels  whispord  to  heisel, 
•  Father,  ye  've  made  a  lie.' 


53.    YOTTNG  BEICHAK 


479 


26  She  dressd  hersel  in  robes  o  green. 

Her  maids  in  robes  sae  fair, 
Wi  gowden  girdles  round  their  middles, 
Sae  costly,  rich  and  rare. 

27  She  's  taen  her  mantle  her  about, 

A  maiden  in  every  hand  ; 

They  saw  a  ship,  wi  sails  a'  up, 

Come  sailing  to  dry  land. 

28  She  's  taen  a  wand  in  till  her  hand, 

And  stroked  her  round  about. 

And  she 's  taen  God  her  pilot  to  be. 

To  drown  she  took  nae  doubt. 

29  So  they  saild  on,  and  further  on, 

Till  to  the  water  o  Tay  ; 
There  they  spied  a  bonny  little  boy. 
Was  watering  his  steeds  sae  gay. 

30  '  What  news,  what  news,  my  little  boy. 

What  news  hae  ye  to  me  ? 
Are  there  any  weddings  in  this  place. 
Or  any  gaun  to  be  ?  ' 


39  Then  out  it  speaks  Bondwell's  own  bride. 

Was  a'  gowd  to  the  chin ; 
'  They  canno  be  fairer  thereout,'  she  says, 
'  Than  we  that  are  therein.' 

40  '  There  is  a  difference,  my  dame,'  he  said, 

'  'Tweeu  that  ladye's  colour  and  yours ; 
As  much  difference  as  you  were  a  stock. 
She  o  the  lily  flowers.' 

41  Then  out  it  speaks  him  Young  Bondwell, 

An  angry  man  was  he  : 
'  Cast  up  the  yetts  baith  wide  an  braid. 
These  ladies  I  may  see.' 

42  Quickly  up  stairs  Dame  Essel  's  gane, 

Her  maidens  next  her  wi ; 
Then  said  the  bride.  This  lady's  face 
Shows  the  porter  's  tanld  nae  lie. 

43  The  lady  unto  Bondwell  spake, 

These  words  prononnced  she  : 
O  hearken,  hearken,  fause  Bondwell, 
These  words  that  I  tell  thee. 


31  '  There  is  a  wedding  in  this  place, 

A  wedding  very  soon  ; 
The  mom  's  the  young  squire's  wedding  day, 
In  the  bonny  towers  of  Linne.' 

32  O  then  she  walked  alang  the  way 

To  see  what  coud  be  seen. 
And  there  she  saw  the  proud  porter, 
Drest  in  a  mantle  green. 

33  '  What  news,  what  news,  porter?  '  she  said, 

'  What  news  hae  ye  to  me  ? 
Are  there  any  weddings  in  this  place, 
Or  any  gaun  to  be  ? ' 

34  '  There  is  a  wedding  in  this  place, 

A  wedding  very  soon ; 
The  mom  is  Youngr  Bondwell's  wedding  day. 
The  bonny  squire  o  Linne.' 

35  '  Gae  to  your  master,  porter,'  she  said, 

'  Gae  ye  right  speedilie ; 
Bid  him  come  and  speak  wi  a  maid 
That  wishes  his  face  to  see.' 

36  The  porter 's  np  to  his  master  gane, 

Fell  low  down  on  his  knee  ; 
'  Win  up,  win  up,  my  porter,'  he  said, 
'  Why  bow  ye  low  to  me  ?  ' 

37  '  I  hae  been  porter  at  your  yetts 

These  thirty  years  and  three. 
But  fairer  maids  than 's  at  them  now 
My  eyes  did  never  see. 

38  '  The  foremost  she  is  drest  in  green. 

The  rest  in  fine  attire, 
Wi  gowden  girdles  round  their  middles. 
Well  worth  a  sheriff's  hire.' 


44  Is  this  the  way  ye  keep  your  vows 

That  ye  did  make  to  me, 
When  your  feet  were  in  iron  fetters, 
Ae  foot  ye  coadna  flee  f 

45  I  stole  the  keys  o  the  jail-house  door 

Frae  under  the  bed  they  lay. 
And  opeud  up  the  jail-house  door. 
Set  you  at  libertj-. 

46  Gae  you  a  steed  was  swift  in  need, 

A  saddle  o  royal  ben, 
A  hunder  pund  o  pennies  round. 
Bade  you  gae  rove  an  spend. 

47  A  couple  o  hounds  o  ae  litter, 

Cain  they  ca'ed  the  ane, 
Twa  gay  gos-hawks  as  swift 's  eer  flew. 
To  keep  you  on  thought  lang. 

48  But  since  this  day  ye  'ye  broke  your  vow, 

For  which  ye  're  sair  to  blame. 
And  since  nae  mair  I  '11  get  o  you, 
O  Cain,  will  ye  gae  hame  ? 

49  '  O  Cain  !  O  Cain! '  the  lady  cried. 

And  Cain  did  her  ken  ; 
They  baith  flappd  round  the  lady's  knee. 
Like  a  couple  o  armed  men. 

50  He 's  to  his  bride  wi  hat  in  hand. 

And  haild  her  courteouslie  : 
'  Sit  down  by  me,  my  bonny  Bondwell, 
What  makes  this  courtesie  ?  ' 

51  '  An  asking,  asking,  fair  lady. 

An  asking  ye  '11  grant  me  ; ' 
'Ask  on,  ask  on,  my  bonny  Bondwell, 
What  may  your  askings  be  ? ' 


480 


53.    YOUNG  BEICHAN 


52  '  Five  hundred  pounds  to  you  I  'Jl  gie. 

Of  gowd  an  white  monie, 
If  ye  '11  wed  John,  my  ain  cousin  ; 
He  looks  as  fair  as  me.' 

53  '  Keep  well  your  monie,  Bondwell,'  she  said, 

'  Nae  monie  I  ask  o  thee  ; 


Your  cousin  John  was  my  first  love, 
My  husband  now  he  's  be.' 

54  Bondwell  was  married  at  morning  ear, 
John  in  the  afternoon  ; 
Dame  Essels  is  lady  ower  a'  the  bowers 
And  the  high  towers  o  Linne. 


N 


a.  Falkirk,  printed  by  T.  Johnston,  1815.     b.  Stirling, 
M.  Randall. 

1  In  London  was  Young  Bichen  born, 

He  longd  strange  lands  to  see  ; 
He  set  his  foot  on  good  ship-board, 
And  he  sailed  over  the  sea. 

2  He  had  not  been  in  a  foreign  land 

A  day  but  only  three, 
Till  he  was  taken  by  a  savage  Moor, 
And  they  used  him  most  cruelly. 

3  In  every  shoulder  they  put  a'  pin, 

To  every  pin  they  put  a  tree ; 
Tliey  made  him  draw  the  plow  and  cart, 
Like  horse  and  oxen  in  his  country. 

4  He  had  not  servd  the  savage  Moor 

A  week,  nay  scarcely  but  only  three. 
Till  he  has  casten  him  in  prison  strong. 
Till  he  with  hunger  was  like  to  die. 

5  It  fell  out  once  upon  a  day 

That  Young  Bichen  he  made  his  moan, 
As  he  lay  bound  in  irons  strong. 
In  a  dark  and  deep  dungeon. 

6  '  An  I  were  again  in  fair  England, 

As  many  merry  day  I  have  been, 
Then  I  would  curb  my  roving  youth 
No  more  to  see  a  strange  land. 

7  '  0  an  I  were  free  again  now. 

And  my  feet  well  set  on  the  sea, 
I  would  live  in  peace  in  my  own  country. 
And  a  foreign  land  I  no  more  would  see.' 

8  The  savage  Moor  had  but  one  daughter, 

I  wot  lier  name  was  Susan  Py  ; 
She  heard  Young  Bichen  make  his  moan , 
At  the  prison-door  as  she  past  by. 

9  '  O  have  ye  any  lands,'  she  said, 

'  Or  have  you  any  money  free, 
Or  have  you  any  revenues. 
To  maintain  a  lady  like  me  f  ' 


10  '  0  I  hare  land  in  fair  England, 
And  I  have  estates  two  or  three. 
And  likewise  I  have  revenues, 
To  maintain  a  lady  like  thee.' 


11  '0  will  you  promise,  Young  Bichen,'  she  says, 

'  And  keep  your  vow  faithful  to  me, 
Thiit  at  the  end  of  seven  years 
In  fair  Engl.ind  you  '11  marry  me  t 

12  '  I  'I!  steal  the  keys  from  my  father  dear, 

Tho  lie  keens  them  most  secretly  ; 
I  '11  risk  my  life  for  to  save  thine. 
And  set  thee  safe  upon  the  sea.' 

13  She  's  stolen  the  keys  from  her  father. 

From  under  the  bed  where  they  lay; 
She  opened  the  prison  strong 
And  set  Young  Bichen  at  liberty. 

14  She  's  gone  to  her  father's  coffer, 

Wliere  the  gold  was  red  and  fair  to  see  ; 
She  filled  his  pockets  with  good  red  gold. 
And  she  set  him  far  upon  the  sea. 

15  '  O  mind  you  well,  Young  Bichen,'  she  says, 

'  The  vows  and  oaths  you  made  to  me  ; 
When  you  are  come  to  your  native  land, 
O  then  remember  Susan  Py  ! ' 

16  But  when  her  father  he  came  home 

He  niissd  the  keys  there  where  they  lay  ; 
He  went  into  the  prison  strong. 

But  he  saw  Young  Bichen  was  awsiy. 

17  '  Go  bring  your  daughter,  madam,'  he  says, 

'  And  bring  her  here  unto  me  ; 
Altho  I  have  no  more  but  her, 
Tomorrow  I  '11  gar  hang  her  high.' 

18  The  lady  calld  on  the  maiden  fair 

To  come  to  her  most  speedily  ; 
'  Go  up  the  country,  my  child,'  slie  says, 
'  Stay  with  my  brother  two  years  or  three. 

19  '  I  have  a  brother,  he  lives  in  the  isles. 

He  will  keep  thee  most  courteously 
And  stay  with  him,  my  child,'  she  says, 

'  Till  thy  father's  wrath  be  turnd  from  thee.' 

20  Now  will  we  leave  young  Susan  Py 

A  while  in  her  own  country. 
And  will  return  to  Young  Bichen, 
Who  is  safe  arrived  in  fair  England. 

21  He  had  not  been  in  fair  England 

Above  years  scarcely  three. 
Till  he  has  courted  another  maid. 
And  so  forgot  his  Susan  Py. 


53.    YOUNG  BEICHAN 


481 


22  The  youth  being  young  and  in  his  prime, 

Of  Susan  Py  thought  not  upon, 
But  his  love  was  laid  on  another  maid, 
And  the  marriage-day  it  did  draw  on. 

23  But  eer  the  seven  years  were  run, 

Susan  Py  she  thought  full  long  ; 
She  set  her  foot  on  good  ship-board. 
And  she  has  saild  for  fair  England. 

24  On  every  6nger  she  put  a  ring, 

On  her  mid-finger  she  put  three  ; 
She  filld  her  pockets  with  good  red  gold, 
And  she  has  sailed  oer  the  sea. 

25  She  had  not  been  in  fair  England 

A  day,  a  day,  but  only  three. 
Till  she  heard  Young  Bichen  was  a  bridegroom. 
And  the  morrow  to  be  the  wedding-day. 

26  '  Since  it  is  so,'  said  yonng  Susan, 

'  That  he  has  provd  so  false  to  me, 
I  '11  hie  me  to  Young  Bichen's  gates. 
And  see  if  he  minds  Susan  Py.' 

27  She  has  gone  np  thro  London  tomi. 

Where  many  a  lady  she  there  did  spy  ; 
There  was  not  a  lady  in  all  London 
Young  Snsan  that  could  outvie. 

28  She  has  calld  npon  a  waiting-man, 

A  waiting-man  who  stood  near  by  : 
'  Convey  me  to  Young  Bichen's  gates. 
And  well  rewarded  shals  thou  be.' 

29  When  she  came  to  Young  Bichen's  gate 

She  chapped  loudly  at  the  pin, 
Till  down  there  came  the  proud  porter ; 
'  Who 's  there,'  he  says, '  that  would  be  in  '! ' 

30  '  Open  the  gates,  porter,'  she  says, 

'  Open  them  to  a  lady  gay. 
And  tell  your  master,  porter,'  she  says, 
'  To  speak  a  word  or  two  with  me.' 

31  The  porter  he  has  opend  the  gates  ; 

His  eyes  were  dazzled  to  see 
A  lady  dressd  in  gold  and  jewels  ; 
No  page  nor  waiting-man  had  she. 

32  •  O  pardon  me,  madam,'  he  cried, 

'  This  day  it  is  his  wedding-day  ; 
He  's  up  the  stairs  with  his  lovely  bride, 
And  a  sight  of  him  you  cannot  see.' 

33  She  put  her  hand  in  her  pocket, 

And  therefrom  took  out  guineas  three, 
And  gave  to  him,  saying.  Please,  kind  sir. 
Bring  down  your  master  straight  to  me. 

3-1  The  porter  up  again  has  gone. 

And  he  fell  low  down  on  his  knee. 
Saying,  Master,  you  will  please  come  down 
To  a  lady  who  wants  you  to  see. 
61 


35  A  lady  gay  stands  at  your  gates. 

The  like  of  her  I  ncer  did  see  ; 
She  has  more  gold  above  her  eye 
Nor  would  buy  a  baron's  land  to  me. 

36  Ont  then  spake  the  bride's  mother, 

I  'm  sure  an  angry  woman  was  she  : 
'  You're  impudent  and  insolent. 

For  ye  might  excepted  the  bride  and  me.' 

37  '  Ye  lie,  ye  lie,  ye  proud  woman, 

I  'm  sure  sae  loud  as  I  hear  you  lie ; 
She  has  more  gold  on  her  body 
Than  would  buy  the  lands,  the  bride,  and  thee  ! ' 

38  '  Go  down,  go  down,  porter,'  he  says, 

'  And  tell  the  lady  gay  from  me 
That  I  'm  up-stairs  wi  my  lovely  bride, 
And  a  sight  of  her  I  cannot  see.' 

39  The  porter  he  goes  down  again. 

The  lady  waited  patiently  : 
'  My  master 's  with  his  lovely  bride. 

And  he  '11  not  win  down  my  dame  to  see.' 

40  From  off  her  finger  she  's  taen  a  ring ; 

'  Give  that  your  master,'  she  says, '  from  me. 
And  tell  him  now,  young  man,'  she  says, 
'  To  send  down  a  cup  of  wine  to  me.' 

41  '  Here  's  a  ring  for  you,  master,'  he  says, 

'  On  her  mid-finger  she  has  three. 
And  you  are  desird,  my  lord,'  he  says, 
'  To  send  down  a  cup  of  wine  with  me.' 

42  He  hit  the  table  with  his  foot. 

He  kepd  it  with  his  right  knee  : 
•  I  '11  wed  my  life  and  all  my  land 
That  is  Susan  Py,  come  o'er  the  sea ! ' 

43  He  has  gone  tmto  the  stair-head, 

A  step  he  took  but  barely  three  ; 
He  opend  the  gates  most  speedily, 
And  Snsan  Py  he  there  could  see. 

44  '  Is  this  the  way.  Young  Bichen,'  she  says, 

'  Is  this  the  way  you  've  guided  me  ? 
I  relieved  you  from  prison  strong. 
And  ill  have  you  rewarded  me. 

45  '  O  mind  ye,  Young  Bichen,'  she  says, 

'  The  vows  and  oaths  that  ye  made  to  me. 
When  ye  lay  bound  in  prison  strong. 
In  a  deep  dungeon  of  misery  1 ' 

46  He  took  her  by  the  milk-white  hand. 

And  led  her  into  the  palace  fine  ; 
There  was  not  a  lady  in  all  the  palace 
But  Susan  Py  did  all  outshine. 

47  The  day  concluded  with  joy  and  mirth. 

On  every  side  there  might  you  see  ; 
There  was  great  joy  in  all  England 
For  the  wedding-day  of  Susan  Py. 


482 


53.    YOUNG  BEICHAN 


B.  17*.  bids  me.     22''*.     Connected  with  23  in 

MS.     22«.  send  he. 

C.  a.  lo'^.  How  y  you. 

b.     3'.  omits  house.     4?.  omits  foot. 

7*.  omits  dear. 

7°.  For  she  's  ...  of  the  prison. 

7*.  And  gane  the  dungeon  within. 

8*.  And  when. 

8\  Wow  but  her  heart  was  sair. 

9\  She  's  gotten.     11*.  thir  twa. 
13^  I  kenna.     13*.  keiisnae. 
14*.  fell  out.     15".  How  y  you. 
16*.  till.     16^.  As  fast  as  ye  can  gang. 
16".  tak  three. 

16^  To  hand  ye  unthocht  lang. 
18*.  Syne  ye.     18^  And  bonny. 
19».  And  I  wiU. 
20^*.  As  fast  as  she  could  gang. 
20°.  she  's  taen. 

20*.  To  baud  her  unthocht  lang. 
22'.  And  sae  bonny  did. 
22*.  till.     24'.  And  her  mind  misgae  by. 
24*.  That 't  was.     25°.  markis  three. 
25*.  Bid  your  master.     27*.  did  never. 
29*.  and  spak.     29'.  be  fine. 
29*.  as  fine.     32'.  out  of . 
34'.  at  the  first.     35^.  gang. 
36*.  Send  her  back  a  maid. 

D.  Written     throughout    without     division    into 

stanzas. 

7.  A  like  repetition  occurs  again  in  tlie  Skene 
MSS :  see  No  36,  p.  316. 

10*'  °.  One  line  in  the  MS.  The  metre,  in 
several  places  where  it  is  incomplete,  was 
doubtless  made  full  hy  repetition:  see 
19*- '. 

14*.  This  line  thus :  (an  a  Leash  of  guid  gray 
hounds) .  The  reciter  evidently  could  re- 
member only  this  point  in  the  stanza. 

16,  17.  Whan    she  cam   to   Young   Beachens 
gate 
Is  Young  Beachen  at  hame 
Or  is  he  in  this  countrie 
He  is  at  hame  is  hearly  (?)  said 
Him  an  sigh  an  says  her  Susie  Pay 
Has  he  quite  forgotten  me 

19*" '.  Probably  sung,  the  stair,  the  stair  ;  win 
up,  win  up. 

22''  *.  Tfie  latter  half  of  the  stanza  must  be 
supposed  to  be  addressed  to  Young  Bea- 
chen. 


26*-  '^.  He  took  her  down  to  yon  gouden  green. 
27*.  Sh  's.     29^  my  name. 
After  29  a  stanza   belonging  apparently  to 
some  other  ballad  : 

Courtess  kind,  an  generous  mind, 

An  winna  ye  answer  me  ? 
An  whan  the  hard  their  lady's  word, 

Well  answered  was  she. 

B.  6*^  was  introduced,  with  other  metrical  pas- 
sages, into  a  long  tale  of '  Young  Beichan 
and  Susy  Pye,'  which  Motherwell  had 
heard  related,  and  of  which  he  gives  a 
specimen  at  p.  xv.  of  his  Introduction : 
"  Well,  ye  must  know  that  in  tlie  Moor's 
castle  there  was  a  masspuore,  which  is  a 
dark  dungeon  for  keeping  prisoners.  It 
was  twenty  feet  below  the  ground,  and 
into  this  hole  they  closed  poor  Beichan. 
There  he  stood,  night  and  day,  uj)  to  his 
waist  in  puddle  water  ;  but  night  or  day  it 
was  all  one  to  him,  for  no  ae  styme  of 
light  ever  got  in.  So  he  lay  there  a  lang 
and  weaiy  while,  and  thinking  on  his 
heavy  weird,  he  made  a  murnfu  sang  to 
pass  the  time,  and  this  was  the  sang  that 
he  made,  and  grat  when  he  sang  it,  for  he 
never  thought  of  ever  escaping  from  the 
massymore,  or  of  seeing  his  ain  country 
again : 

'  My  hounds  they  all  run  masterless. 
My  hawks  they  flee  from  tree  to  tree ; 

My  youngest  brother  will  heir  my  lands. 
And  fair  England  again  I  '11  never  see. 

'  Oh  were  I  free  as  I  hae  been. 

And  my  ship  swimming  once  more  on 
sea, 
I  'd  turn  my  face  to  fair  England, 

And  sail  no  more  to  a  strange  coun- 
trie.* 

"  Now  the  cruel  "Moor  had  a  beautiful 
daughter,  called  Susy  Pye,  who  was  ac- 
customed to  take  a  walk  every  morning  in 
her  garden,  and  as  she  was  walking  ae 
day  she  heard  the  sough  o  Beichan's  sang, 
coming  as  it  were  from  below  the  ground," 
etc.,  etc. 
P.  3'.  dungeon  (donjon).  6*.  only  lands. 
6".  only  castles.     8*.  Oh. 


53.    YOUNG  BEICHAK 


483 


'    10*.  ha  she  has  gane  in :    originally  has   she 
gane  in. 
13^.  Many,  with  Seven  written  over:  Seven  in 

20.    After  this  stanza :  Then  the  porter  gaed 

up  the  stair  and  said. 
25.    After  this  stanza :  Then   Lord   Beichan 
gat  up,  and  was  in  a  great  wrath,  and 
said. 
31.    ae :  indistinct,  but  seems  to  have  been  one 
changed  to  ae  or  a. 
H.     4'.  carts  and  wains  for  carts  o  wine  of  A  2', 
B  2'.     We  have  wine  in  H  4',  1 3',  and  wine 
is  in  all  likelihood  original. 
Christie,  I,  31,  abridges  this  version,  making 
"  a  few  slight  alterations  from  the  way  he 
had  heard  it  sung:"  these,  and  one  or  two 
more. 
2*.  wadna  bend  nor  bow. 
7'.  The  Moor  he  had. 
25*.  But  Beichan  courted. 
I.    1*.  Bechin  was  pronounced  Beekin. 
K.    1.  Before  this,  as  gloss,  or  remnant  of  a  p>re- 
ceding  stanza :  She  came  to  a  shepherd, 
and  he  replied. 
2.  After  this,  in  explanation  :  She  gave  Lord 
Bechin  a  slice  of  bread  and  a  bottle  of 
wine  when  she  released  him  from  prison, 
hence  the  following. 
3*.  to  him. 

4.  After  this :  He  had  married  another  lady, 
not  having  heard  from  his  Sophia  for  seven 
long  years. 
L.    "  This  affecting  legend  is  given  .  .  .  precisely 
as  I  have  frequently  heard  it  sung  on  Satur- 
day nights,  outside  a  house  of  general  re- 
freshment (familiarly  termed  a  wine-vaults) 
at   Battle-bridge.     The    singer   is   a  young 
gentleman  who  can  scarcely  have  numbered 
nineteen  summers.  ...  I  have  taken  down 
the  words  from  his  own  mouth  at  different 


periods,  and  have  been  careful  to  preserve 
his  pronunciation."  [Attributed  to  Charles 
Dickens.']  As  there  is  no  reason  for  indi- 
cating pronunciation  here,  in  this  more  than 
in  other  cases,  the  phonetic  spelling  is  re- 
placed by  common  ortlwgraphy.  Forms  of 
speech  have,  however,  been  preserved,  ex- 
cepting two,  with  regard  to  which  I  may 
have  been  too  nice. 
V.  his-seK.  5',  9^  guv. 
M.    10'.  in  for  wi  (?)  :  wi  in  5'. 

12-,  46^^.  bend.     Possihly,  liowever,  understood 
to  be  bend  =  leather,  instead  of  ben  =  bane, 
bone. 
13*,  47*.  on  thought. 
N.    a.  Susan    Py,    or    Young    Bichens    Garland. 
Shewing  how  he  went  to  a  far  country, 
and  was  taken  by  a  savage  Moor  and  cast 
into  prison,  and  delivered  by  the  Moor's 
daughter,  on  promise  of  marriage  ;   and 
how  he  came  to  England,  and  was  going 
to  be  wedded  to  another  bride  ;  with  the 
happy  arrival  of  Susan  Py  on  the  wedding 
day.     Falkirk,  Printed  by  T.   Johnston, 
1815. 
b.   3*.  his  own. 

4^.  A  week,  a  week,  but  only. 
7'.  own  land. 

7*.  And  foreign  lands  no  more. 
11*.  young  man.     13^.  he  lay. 
24*.  her  trunks.     25*.  was  the. 
28^^.  that  stood  hard  by.     28*.  thou  shalt. 
29^  She  knocked.     31*.  waiting-maid. 
32^  For  this  is  his. 
34*.  up  the  stairs.     34',  will  you. 
36*.  Ye  might. 

37^.  Sae  loud  as  I  hear  ye  lie. 
39*.  And  a  sight  of  him  you  cannot  see. 
40*.  To  bring.     42«.  I  '11  lay. 
44'^.  way  that  you  've  used  me. 
47*.  wedding  of. 


484 


ADDITIONS  AND   CORRECTIONS 


ADDITIONS  AND   CORRECTIONS 


1.   Riddles  Wisely  Expounded. 

P.  1  b.  A.  Add  :  Miindel,  Elsiissische  Volkslieder, 
p.  27,  No  24.  Second  line  from  the  bottom,  for  seven 
read  ten. 

2  a.  Add:  H.  J.  H.  Schmitz,  Sitten  u.  s.  w.  des 
Eifler  Volkes,  1,  159  ;  five  pairs  of  riddles  and  no  con- 
clusion. (Kohler.)  I.  Alfred  Miiller,  Volkslieder  aiis 
dem  Erzgebirge,  p.  69  ;  four  pairs  of  riddles,  and  no 
conclusion.  J.  Lemke,  Volksthiiniliches  in  Ostpreussen, 
p.  152  ;  seven  riddles  guessed,  "  nun  bin  ich  Deine 
Frau." 

2  b.  (The  Russian  riddle-ballad.)  So  a  Kosak:  "  I 
give  thee  this  riddle :  if  thou  guess  it,  thou  shalt  be 
mine  ;  if  thou  guess  it  not,  ill  shall  it  go  with  thee." 
The  riddle,  seven-fold,  is  guessed.  Metlinskiy,  Narod- 
nyya  yuzhnorusskiya  Pyesni,  pp  363  f.  Cf.  Snegiref, 
Russkie  prostonarodnye  Prazdniki,  II,  101  f. 

2  b,  note.  For  Kaden  substitute  Casetti  e  Imbriani, 
C.  p.  delle  Provincie  meridionali,  I,  197  f.    (Kohler.) 


~  Serpolnica  :  Afanasief,  II,  333  ;  Veckenstedt,  Wen- 
dische  Sagen,  p.  107,  No  14,  p.  108  f.  No  19,  p.  109  f, 
No  4.  The  Red  Etin  puts  questions,  too,  in  the  Scot- 
tish tale.  Chambers,  Popular  Rhymes,  1870,  p.  92. 
There  is  certainly  no  occasion  to  scruple  about  elf  or 
elf-knight.     Line  16f.     The  same  in  Snegiref,  IV.  8. 

14  b.  For  the  legend  of  St  Andrew,  etc.,  see,  fur- 
ther, Gering,  fslendzk  ^ventyri,  I,  95,  No  24,  '  Af 
biskupi  ok  puka,'  and  Kohler's  references,  II,  80  f. 
(Kohler.) 

15  a.  A,  B.  Dr  Davidson  informs  me  that  the  intro- 
ductory stanza,  or  burden-stem,  exists  in  the  form  : 

Her  pla'die  awa,  her  plaidie  awa, 

The  win  blew  the  bonnie  lassie's  plaidie  awa. 

16  a.  C.  This  version  is  in  Kinloch  MSS,  VII,  163. 
3  is  wanting. 

6.  Married  ye  sail  never  get  nana 
Till  ye  mak  a  shirt  without  a  seam. 


2.    The  Elfin  Knight. 

P.  6  b.  J.  Read  :  Central  New  York  ;  and  again  in 
J,  p.  1 9  a.  Add  :  M.  Notes  and  Queries,  4th  Series, 
III,  605. 

7  a,  note.  Another  ballad  with  a  burden-stem  is  a 
version  of  '  Klosterrovet,'  C,  MSS  of  IGIO,  and  later, 
communicated  to  me  by  Svend  Grundtvig. 

7  b.  Add :  O.  '  Ehestandsaussichten  '  [Norren- 
berg],  Des  Diilkener  Fiedlers  Liederbuch,  1875,  p.  88, 
No  99.    (Kohler.) 

8-12.  Jagiu,  in  Archiv  fiir  slavieche  Philologie, 
'  Aus  dem  sudslavischen  Miirchenschatz,'  V,  47-50, 
adds  five  Slavic  stories  of  the  wench  whose  ready  wit 
helps  her  to  a  good  marriage,  and  Kohler,  in  notes  to 
Jagic,  pp  50  ff,  cites,  in  addition  to  nearly  all  those 
which  I  have  mentioned,  one  Slavic,  one  German,  five 
Italian,  one  French,  one  Iri^h,  one  Norwegian,  besides 
very  numerous  tales  in  which  there  is  a  partial  agree- 
ment. Wollner,  in  Leskien  and  Brugman's  Litauische 
Volkslieder  und  Miirchen,  p.  573,  cites  Slavic  parallels 
to  No  34,  of  which  the  following,  not  previously  noted, 
and  no  doubt  others,  are  apposite  to  this  ballad:  Afa- 
nasief,  VI,  177,  No  42,  a,  b;  Trudy,  II,  611-614,  No  84, 
614-616,  No  85;  Dragomanof,  p.  347,  No  29;  Sadok 
Baracz,  p.  33  ;  Kolberg,  Lud,  VIII,  206  ;  Kulda,  II,  68. 

14  a,  line  4.  The  Baba-Yaga,  a  malignant  female 
spirit,  has  the  ways  of  the  Rusalka  and  the  Vila,  and  so 
the  Wendish  Piezpolnica,  the   '  Mittagsfrau,'  and  the 


7.  And  ye  maun  sew  it  seamless, 

And  ye  maun  do  it  wi  needle,  threedless. 

10.  wanting.     12'.  I  hae  a  bit  o  land  to  be  corn. 
14  is  wantinfj.     16.  loof  —  glove. 
17  is  wanting, 

3,  10,  14,  17,  are  evidently  supplied  from  some 
form  of  B. 


20. 


M 


Similar  to  F-H  :  Notes  and  Queries,  4th  Series,  III,  C05, 
communicated  by  W.  F.,  Glasgow,  from  a  manuscript  collec- 
tion. 

1  As  I  went  up  to  the  top  o  yon  hiU, 

Every  rose  springs  merry  in' t'  time 
I  met  a  fair  maid,  an  her  name  it  was  Nell. 
An  she  langed  to  be  a  true  lover  o  mine 

2  '  Ye  'U  get  to  me  a  cambric  sark. 

An  sew  it  all  over  without  thread  or  needle. 
Before  that  ye  be,  etc. 

3  '  Ye  '11  wash  it  doim  in  yonder  well. 
Where  water  neer  ran  an  dew  never  fell. 


ADDITIONS  AND  COEKECTIONS 


485 


4  '  Ye  '11  bleach  it  doun  by  yonder  green, 
Where  grass  never  grew  an  wind  never  blew. 

5  '  Ye  '11  dry  it  doun  on  yonder  thorn, 

That  never  bore  blossom  sin  Adam  was  born.' 

6  '  Four  questions  ye  have  asked  at  me, 
An  as  mony  mair  ye  '11  answer  me. 

7  '  Ye  '11  get  to  me  an  acre  o  land 
Atween  the  saut  water  an  the  sea  sand. 

8  '  Ye  'U  plow  it  wi  a  ram's  horn, 

An  sow  it  all  over  wi  one  peppercorn. 

9  '  Ye  '11  shear  it  wi  a  peacock's  feather, 
An  bind  it  all  up  wi  the  sting  o  an  adder. 

10  '  Ye  'U  stook  it  in  yonder  saut  sea. 

An  bring  the  dry  sheaves  a'  back  to  me. 

11  '  An  when  ye  've  done  and  finished  your  wark, 
Ye  'U  come  to  me,  an  ye  'se  get  your  sark.' 

An  then  shall  ye  be  true  lover  o  mine 


Curialium,  ed.  Wri<;ht,  p.  81,  Alpenburg,  Deutsche 
Alpensagen,  p.  312,  No  330.  So  Thetis,  according  to 
Sophocles,  left  Peleus  when  he  reviled  her :  Scholia  in 
ApoUonii  Ar<ronauiica,  iv,  816.  (Mannhardt,  Wald- 
und  Feldkulte,  II,  60,  68.) 
22. 

o 

Obtained  by  Mr  Macmath  from  tlic  recitation  of  his  aunt. 
Miss  Jane  Webster,  formerly  of  Airds  of  Kells,  Stewartry 
of  Kirkcudhrijiht,  Galloway,  who  learned  it  many  years  ago 
from  the  wife  of  Peter  McGuire,  then  cotman  at  Airds. 

1  '  0  whare  are  ye  gaun  ?  ' 

Says  the  false  knight  upon  the  road : 
'  I  am  gaun  to  the  schule,' 

Says  the  wee  boy,  and  stUl  he  stood. 

2  '  Wha  's  aught  the  sheep  on  yonder  hill  ?  ' 
'  They  are  my  papa's  and  mine.' 

3  '  How  many  of  them  'a  mine  ?  ' 
'  A'  them  that  has  blue  tails.' 

4  '  I  wish  you  were  in  yonder  well : ' 
'  And  you  were  down  in  hell.' 


3.   The  Fause  Knight  upon  the  Road. 

P.  20a.  Add:  C.  'The  False  Knight,'  communi- 
cated by  Mr  Macmath,  of  Edinburgh. 

For  the  fool  getting  the  last  word  of  the  princess,  see, 
further,  Kohler,  Germania,  XIV,  271  ;  Leskieu  u.  Brug- 
man,  Litauische  Volkslieder  u.  Miirchen,  p.  469,  No 
33,  and  WoUner's  note,  p.  573. 

21,  note.  I  must  retract  the  doubly  hasty  remark 
that  the  Shetland  belief  that  witches  may  be  baffled  by 
fliting  with  them  is  a  modern  misunderstanding. 

Mr  George  Lyman  Kittredge  has  called  my  attention 
to  Apollonius  of  Tyana's  encounter  with  an  empusa 
between  the  Caucasus  and  the  Indus.  Knowing  what 
the  spectre  was,  Apollonius  began  to  revile  it,  and  told 
his  attendants  to  do  the  same,  for  that  was  the  resource, 
in  such  cases,  against  an  attack.  The  empusa  went  off 
with  a  shriek.  Fhilostratus's  Life  of  Apollonius,  II,  4. 
Mr  Kittredge  referred  me  later  to  what  is  said  by  Col. 
Yule  (who  also  cites  Philostratus),  Marco  Polo,  I,  183, 
that  the  wise,  according  to  Mas'udi,  revile  ghuls,  and 
the  ghiils  vanish.  Mr  Kittredge  also  cites  Luther's  ex- 
perience: how,  when  he  could  not  be  rid  of  the  Devil 
by  the  use  of  holy  writ  and  serious  words,  "  so  hiitte  er 
ihn  oft  mit  spitzigen  Worten  und  liicherlichen  Possen 
vertrieben  ;  .  .  .  quia  est  superbus  spiritus,  et  non  potest 
ferre  contemptum  sui."  Tischreden,  in  Auswahl,  Ber- 
lin, 1877,  pp  152-154. 

Sprites  of  the  more  respectable  orders  will  quit  the 
company  of  men  if  scolded  :  Walter  Mapes,  De  Nugis 


4.   Lady  Isabel  and  the  Elf-Knight. 

P.  22  b.  D.  Add  :  d.  '  The  historical  ballad  of  May 
Culzean,'  an  undated  stall-copy. 

26  b.  Another  Dutch  version  (Frisian),  spirited,  but 
with  gaps,  is  given  by  Dykstra  and  van  der  Meulen,  In 
Doaze  fol  aide  Snypsnaren,  Frjentsjer,  1882,  p.  118, 
'  Jan  Alberts,'  66  vv.    (Kohler.) 

D.  Jan  Alberts  sings  a  song,  and  those  that  hear  it 
know  it  not.  It  is  heard  by  a  king's  daughter,  who 
asks  her  mother's  leave  to  go  out  for  a  walk,  and  is  told 
that  it  is  all  one  where  she  goes  or  stays,  if  she  keeps 
her  honor.  Her  father  says  the  same,  when  she  applies 
for  his  leave.  She  goes  to  her  bedroom  and  dresses 
herself  finely,  dons  a  gold  crown,  puts  her  head  out  of 
the  window,  and  cries.  Now  am  I  Jan  Alberts'  bride. 
Jan  Alberts  takes  her  on  his  horse;  they  ride  fast  and 
long,  with  nothing  to  eat  or  drink  for  three  days.  She 
then  asks  Jan  why  he  gives  her  nothing,  and  he  an- 
swers that  he  shall  ride  to  the  high  tree  where  hang 
fourteen  fair  maids.  Arrived  there,  he  gives  her  the 
choice  of  tree,  sword,  or  water.  She  chooses  the  sword, 
bids  him  spare  his  coat,  for  a  pure  maid's  blood  goes 
far,  and  before  his  coat  is  half  off"  his  head  lies  be- 
hind him.  The  head  cries.  Behind  the  bush  is  a  pot  of 
grease  ;  smear  my  neck  with  it.  She  will  not  smear 
from  a  murderer's  pot,  nor  blow  in  a  murderer's  horn. 
She  mounts  his  horse,  and  rides  far  and  long.  Jan  Al- 
berts' mother  comes  to  meet  her,  and  asks  after  him. 
She  says  he  is  not  far  off,  and  is  sporting  with  fourteen 


486 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


maids.  Had  you  told  me  this  before,  I  would  have  laid 
you  in  the  water,  says  the  mother.  The  maid  rides  on 
till  she  comes  to  her  father's  gate.  Then  she  cries  to 
her  father  to  open,  for  his  youngest  daughter  is  with- 
out. The  father  not  bestirring  himself,  she  swims  the 
moat,  and,  the  door  not  being  open,  goes  through  the 
glass.     The  next  day  she  dries  her  clothes. 

30  a,  37  a.  There  is  a  Low  German  version  of  the 
first  class,  A-F,  in  Spee,  Volksthiimliches  voin  Nieder- 
rhein,  Koln,  1875,  Zweites  Heft,  p.  3,  '  Schondili,'  50 
vv.    (Kohler.) 

AA.  Schondili's  parents  died  when  she  was  a  child. 
Schon-Albert,  knowing  this,  rides  to  her.  She  attires 
herself  in  silk,  with  a  gold  crown  on  her  hair,  and  he 
swings  her  on  to  his  horse.  They  ride  three  days  and 
nights,  with  nothing  to  eat  or  drink.  She  asks  whether 
it  is  not  meal-time;  he  replies  that  they  are  coming  to 
a  linden,  where  they  will  eat  and  drink.  Seven  women 
are  hanging  on  the  tree.  He  gives  her  the  wale  of  tree, 
river,  and  sword.  She  chooses  the  sword  ;  would  be 
loath  to  spot  his  coat ;  whips  off  his  head  before  the  coat 
is  half  off.  The  head  says  there  is  a  pipe  in  the  sad- 
dle ;  she  thinks  no  good  can  come  of  playing  a  murder- 
er's pipe.  She  meets  first  the  father,  then  the  mother  ; 
they  think  that  must  be  Schon-AIbert's  horse.  That 
may  be,  she  says;  I  have  not  seen  him  since  yesterday. 
She  sets  the  pipe  to  her  mouth,  when  she  reaches  her 
father's  gate,  and  the  murderers  come  like  hares  on  the 
wind. 

BB.  Alfred  MUller,  Volkslieder  aus  dem  Erzgebirge, 
p.  92,  '  Schon  Ulricli '  [und  Trautendelein],  86  vv. 
(Kohler.)     Like  T,  without  the  song. 

CC.  A.  Schlosser,  Deutsche  Volkslieder  aus  Steier- 
mark,  1881,  p.  338,  No  309,  '  Der  Hitter  und  die 
Maid.'    (Kohler  :  not  yet  seen  by  me.) 

DD.  Curt  Miindel,  Elsiissische  Volkslieder,  p.  12, 
No  10,  a  fragment  of  fifteen  verses.  As  Anna  sits  by 
the  Rhine  combing  her  hair,  Heinrich  conies  along  on 
his  horse,  sees  her  weep,  and  asks  why.  It  is  not  for 
gold  and  not  for  goods,  but  because  she  is  to  die  that 
day.  Heinrich  draws  his  sword,  runs  her  through,  and 
rides  home.  He  is  asked  why  his  sword  is  red,  and  says 
he  has  killed  two  doves.  They  say  the  dove  must  be 
Anna. 

32  b.     H,  line  10.    Read  :  umbrunnen. 

39  a,  line  1.    Read:  contributed  by  Hoffmann. 

39  a,  third  paragraph.  Kozlowski,  Lud,  p.  54,  No  15, 
furnishes  a  second  and  inferior  but  still  important  form 
of  A  (Masovian). 

A  b.  Ligar  (afterwards  Jasia,  Golo)  bids  Kasia  take 
all  she  has.  She  has  already  done  this,  and  is  ready 
to  range  the  world  with  him.  Suddenly  she  asks,  after 
they  have  been  some  time  on  their  way.  What  is  that 
yonder  so  green?  Jasia  replies.  Our  house,  to  which 
we  are  going.  They  go  on  further,  and  Kasia  again 
inquires  abruptly.  What  is  that  yonder  so  white  ? 
"  That  is  my  eight  wives,  and  you  shall  be  the  ninth  : 
you  are  to  die,  and  will  be  the  tenth."  "  Where  is 
the  gold,  the  maidens'  gold  ?  "     "  In  the  linden,  Ka- 


sia, in  the  linden;  plenty  of  it."  "  Let  me  not  die  so 
wretchedly  ;  let  me  draw  your  sword  for  once."  She 
drew  the  sword,  and  with  one  stroke  Jasia's  head  was 
off. 

39  b.  To  the  Polish  versions  are  further  to  be  added: 
NN,  Piosnki  wiesniacze  znad  Dzwiny,  p.  41,  No  51  ; 
OO,  Roger,  p.  78,  No  138  ;  PP,  Roger,  p.  69,  No  125  ; 
QQ,  ib.,  p.  79,  No  140  ;  RR,  p.  81,  No  142;  SS,  p.  79, 
No  139.  The  last  three  are  imperfect,  and  QQ,  RR, 
have  a  beginning  which  belongs  elsewhere.  Jasia  sug- 
gests to  Kasia  to  get  the  key  of  the  new  room  from  her 
mother  by  pretending  headache,  ancLbids  her  take  gold 
enough,  NN,  OO.  They  go  off  while  her  mother  thinks 
that  Kasia  is  sleeping,  NN,  OO,  QQ.  They  come  to  a 
wood,  NN,  PP  (which  is  corrupt  here),  SS  ;  first  or 
last,  to  a  deep  stream,  NN,  OO,  QQ,  SS  ;  it  is  red  sea 
in  RR,  as  in  J.  Jasia  bids  Kasia  return  to  her  mother, 
NN  (twice),  RR  ;  bids  her  take  off  her  rich  clothes, 
OO,  to  which  she  answers  that  she  has  not  come  here 
for  that.  -lohn  throws  her  into  the  water,  NN,  OO, 
QQ,  SS,  from  a  bridge  in  the  second  and  third.  Her 
apron  catches  on  a  stake  or  post  ;  she  begs  John  for 
help,  and  gets  for  answer,  "  I  did  not  throw  you  in  to 
help  you  :  you  may  go  to  the  bottom,"  OO.  She  swims 
to  a  stake,  to  which  she  clings,  and  John  hews  her  in 
three,  QQ.  Fishermen  draw  out  the  body,  and  carry 
it  to  the  church,  NN,  OO.  She  apostrophizes  her  hair 
in  QQ,  SS,  as  in  G,  I,  J,  and  in  the  same  absurd  terms 
in  QQ  as  in  J.  John  is  pursued  and  cut  to  pieces  in 
OO,  also  broken  on  the  wheel.  PP  closely  resembles 
German  ballads  of  the  third  class.  Katie  shouts  three 
times  :  at  her  first  cry  the  grass  curls  up  ;  at  the  second 
the  river  overflows ;  the  third  wakes  her  mother,  who 
rouses  her  sons,  saying,  Katie  is  calling  in  the  wood. 
They  find  John  with  a  bloody  sword  ;  he  says  he  has 
killed  a  dove.  They  answer.  No  dove,  but  our  sister, 
and  maltreat  him  till  he  tells  what  he  has  done  with 
his  victim  :  "  I  have  hidden  her  under  the  yew-bush  ; 
now  put  me  on  the  wheel." 

39  b,  line  13  of  the  middle  paragraph.  Read  Piosnki 
for  Pies'ni,  and  omit  the  quotation  marks  in  this  and  the 
line  before. 

40  b,  line  2  (the  girl's  adding  her  hair  to  lengthen  the 
cord).  In  the  tale  of  the  Sea-horse,  Sehiefner,  Awa- 
rische  Texte,  Memoirs  of  the  St  Petersburg  Academy, 
vol.  XIX,  No  6,  p.  11  f,  a  sixty-ell  rope  being  required 
to  rescue  a  prince  from  a  well  into  which  lie  had  been 
thrown,  and  no  rope  forthcoming,  the  daughter  of  a  sea- 
king  makes  a  rope  of  the  required  length  with  her  hair, 
and  with  this  the  prince  is  drawn  out.  Dr  Reinhold 
Kohler,  who  pointed  out  this  incident  to  me,  refers  in 
his  notes  to  the  texts,  at  p.  vii  f,  to  the  song  of  Siidiii 
Miirgiin,  Radloff,  II,  627-31,  where  Siidiii  Miirgiin's  wife, 
having  to  rescue  her  husband  from  a  pit,  tries  fii'st  his 
horse's  tail,  and  finds  it  too  short,  then  her  hair,  which 
proves  also  a  little  short.  A  maid  is  then  found  whose 
hair  is  a  hundred  fathoms  long,  and  her  hair  being  tied 
on  to  the  horse's  tail,  and  horse,  wife,  and  maid  pulling 
together,  the  hero  is  drawn  out.     For  climbing  up  by  a 


ADDITIONS  AND  COERECTIONS 


487 


maid's  hair,  see,  furttier,  Kohler's  note  to  Gonzenbach, 
No  53,  11,  236. 

40  b,  line  7.  A  message  is  sent  to  a  father  by  a 
daughter  in  the  same  way,  in  Chodzko,  Les  Chants 
historiques  de  ['Ukraine,  p.  75;  cf.  p.  92,  of  the  same. 
Tristram  sends  messages  to  Isonde  by  linden  shavings 
inscribed  with  runes :  Sir  Tristrem,  ed.  Kiilbing,  p.  56, 
St.  187  ;  Tristrams  Saga,  cap.  54,  p.  68,  ed.  Kolbing; 
Gottfried  von  Strassburg,  vv  14427-441. 

40  b,  line  36.     For  G,  I,  read  G,  J. 

40,  note  f.  In  a  Ruthenian  ballad  a  girl  who  runs 
away  from  her  mother  with  a  lover  tells  her  brothers, 
who  have  come  in  search  of  her,  1  did  not  leave  home 
to  go  back  again  with  you  :  Golovatsky,  Part  I,  p.  77, 
No  32 ;  Part  III,  i,  p.  17,  No  4,  p.  18,  No  5.  So,  "  I 
have  not  poisoned  you  to  help  you,"  Part  I,  p.  206,  No 
32,  p.  207,  No  33. 

41a,  second  paragraph.  Golovatsky,  at  1,  116,  No 
29,  has  a  ballad,  found  elsewhere  without  the  feature 
here  to  be  noticed,  in  which  a  Cossack,  who  is  watering 
his  horse  while  a  maid  is  drawing  water,  describes  his 
home  as  a  Wonderland,  like  John  in  Polish  Q.  "  Come 
to  the  Ukraine  with  the  Cos.sacks,"  he  says.  "  Our  land 
is  not  like  this  :  with  us  the  mountains  are  golden,  the 
water  is  mead,  the  grass  is  silk  ;  with  us  the  willows 
bear  pears  and  the  girls  go  in  gold."  She  yields  ;  they 
go  over  one  mountain  and  another,  and  when  they  have 
crossed  the  third  the  Cossack  lets  his  horse  graze.  The 
maid  falls  to  weeping,  and  asks  the  Cossack,  Where  are 
your  golden  mountains,  where  the  water  that  is  mead, 
the  grass  that  is  silk  V  He  answers.  No  girl  of  sense 
and  reason  engages  herself  to  a  young  Cossack.  So  in 
Zegota  Pauli,  P.  1.  ruskiego,  p.  29,  No  26  =  Golovat- 
sky, I,  117,  No  30,  where  the  maid  rejoins  to  the  glow- 
ing description,  I  have  ranged  the  world  :  golden  moun- 
tains I  never  saw  ;  everywhere  mountains  are  of  stone, 
and  everywhere  rivers  are  of  water  ;  very  like  the  girl 
in  Grundtvig,  82  B,  st.  7  ;  183  A  6,  B  5,  6. 

41b,  last  paragraph.  Several  Bohemian  versions  are 
to  be  added  to  the  single  example  cited  from  Waldau's 
Btihmische  Granaten.  This  version,  which  is  presumed 
to  have  been  taken  down  by  Waldau  himself,  may  be 
distinguished  as  A.  B,  Susil,  Moravskd  Ndrodnf  Pi'snu, 
No  189,  p.  191,  '  Vrah,'  '  The  Murderer,'  is  very  like  A. 
C,  Susil,  p.  193.  D,  Erben,  Prostondrodni  ceskd  Pi'sne 
a  Ri'kadla,  p.  480,  No  16,  '  Zabite  devce,'  '  The  Mur- 
dered Maid.'  E,  p.  479,  No  15,  '  Zabitd  sestra,'  '  The 
Murdered  Sister.'  B  has  a  double  set  of  names,  be- 
ginning with  Black  George,  —  not  the  Servian,  but 
"  king  of  Hungary,"  —  and  ending  with  Indriasch.    The 


maid  is  once  called  Annie,  otherwise  Katie.  At  her  first 
call  the  grass  becomes  green  ;  at  the  second  the  moun- 
tain bows  ;  the  third  the  mother  hears.  C  has  marvels 
of  its  own.  Anna  entreats  John  to  allow  her  to  call  to 
her  mother.  "  Call,  call,"  he  says,  "  you  will  not  reach 
her  with  your  call  ;  in  this  dark  wood,  even  the  birds 
will  not  hear  you."  At  her  first  call  a  pine-tree  in  the 
forest  breaks  ;  at  the  second  the  river  overflows  ;  at  the 
third  her  mother  rises  from  the  grave.  She  calls  to 
her  sons  to  go  to  Anna's  rescue,  and  they  rise  from 
their  graves.  The  miscreant  John  confesses  that  he 
has  buried  their  sister  in  the  wood.  They  strike  off  his 
head,  and  put  a  hat  on  the  head,  with  an  inscription 
in  gold  letters,  to  inform  people  what  his  offence  has 
been.  There  is  a  gap  after  the  seventh  stanza  of  D, 
which  leaves  the  two  following  stanzas  unintelligible  by 
themselves  :  8,  Choose  one  of  the  two,  and  trust  no- 
body ;  9,  She  made  her  choice,  and  shouted  three  times 
towards  the  mountains.  At  the  first  cry  the  mountain 
became  green  ;  at  the  second  the  mountain  bowed  back- 
wards ;  the  third  the  mother  heard.  She  sent  her  sons 
off ;  they  found  their  neighbor  John,  who  had  cut  off 
their  sister's  head.  The  law-abiding,  and  therefore 
modern,  young  men  say  that  John  shall  go  to  prison  and 
never  come  out  alive.  In  E  the  man,  a  young  hunter, 
says.  Call  five  times  ;  not  even  a  wood-bird  will  hear 
you.  Nothing  is  said  of  the  first  call ;  the  second  is 
heard  by  the  younger  brother,  who  tells  the  elder  that 
their  sister  must  be  in  trouble.  The  hunter  has  a 
bloody  rifle  in  his  hand :  how  he  is  disposed  of  we  are 
not  told.  All  these  ballads  but  C  begin  with  the  maid 
cutting  grass,  and  all  of  them  have  the  dove  that  is 
"  no  dove,  but  our  sister." 

Fragments  of  this  ballad  are  found,  F,  in  Susil,  p. 
112,  No  113,  'Nevesta  neit' astnice,'  'The  Unhappy 
Bride  ; '  G,  p.  171,  No  171,  '  Zbojce,'  '  The  Murderer ; ' 
and  there  is  a  variation  from  B  at  p.  192,  note  3,  which 
is  worth  remarking,  H.  F,  sts  11-14  :  "  Get  together 
what  belongs  to  you  ;  we  will  go  to  a  foreign  land ;  " 
and  when  they  came  to  the  turf,  "  Look  my  head 
through."  *  Every  hair  she  laid  aside  she  wet  with  a 
tear.  And  when  they  came  into  the  dark  of  the  wood 
he  cut  her  into  nine  [three]  pieces.  G.  Katie  meets 
John  in  a  meadow  ;  they  sit  down  on  the  grass.  "  Look 
my  head  through."  She  weeps,  for  she  says  there  is  a 
black  fate  impending  over  her  ;  "  a  black  one  for  me, 
a  red  one  for  thee."  He  gets  angry,  cuts  off  her  head, 
and  throws  her  into  the  river,  for  which  he  is  hanored. 
H.  He  sprang  from  his  horse,  robbed  the  maid,  and 
laughed.     He  set  her  on  the  grass,  and  bade  her  look 


•  "  Cette  action,  si  peu  seante  pour  nous,  est  accomplie 
dans  maint  conte  grec,  allemand,  etc.,  par  des  jeunes  filles 
sur  leurs  amants,  sur  des  dragons  par  les  princesses  qu'ils 
ont  enleve'es,  et,  meme  dans  une  legendc  bulgare  en  vers, 
saint  Georges  re^oit  le  meme  service  de  la  demoiselle  e.^- 
pose'e  au  dragon,  dont  il  va  la  delivrer.  Dozon,  Contes  al- 
banais,  p.  27,  note.  In  the  Bulgarian  legend  referred  to, 
Bulgar^ki  narodni  pesni,  by  the  brothers  Miladinov,  p.  31, 


the  saint  having  dozed  off  during  the  operation,  the  young 
maid  sheds  tears,  and  a  burning  drop  falls  on  the  face  of 
George,  and  wakes  him.  This  recalls  the  Magyar  ballad, 
Molnar  Anna,  see  p.  46.  A  Cretan  legend  of  St  George  has 
the  same  trait :  Jeannaraki,  p.  2,  v.  41.  Even  a  dead  lover 
recalled  to  the  earth  by  his  mistress,  in  ballads  of  the  Lcnore 
class,  asks  the  same  service  :  Golovatsky,  II,  70S,  No  12;  Su- 
sil, p.  1 11,  No  112,  '  Umrlec,' '  The  Dead  Man.'    ^ 


488 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


his  head  through.  Every  hair  she  examined  she  dropped 
a  tear  for.  "  Why  do  you  weep,  Katie  ?  Is  it  for  your 
crants  ?  "  "  I  am  not  weeping  for  my  crants,  nor  am  I 
afraid  of  your  sword.  Let  me  call  three  times,  that  my 
father  and  mother  may  hear."  Compare  German  H  10, 
11  ;  Q  8-10,  etc.,  etc. 

42  a.  These  Ruthenian  ballads  belong  with  the  other 
Slavic  parallels  to  No  4:  A,  Zegota  Pauli,  P.  1.  rus- 
kiego,  p.  21  =  Golovatsky,  III,  i,  149,  No  21 ;  B,  Golo- 
vatsky.  III,  i,  172,  No  46.  A.  A  man  induces  a  girl 
to  go  off  with  him  in  the  night.  They  wander  over  one 
land  and  another,  and  then  feel  need  of  rest.  Why 
does  your  head  ache  ?  he  asks  of  her.  Are  you  home- 
sick? "  My  head  does  not  ache  ;  I  am  not  homesick." 
He  takes  her  by  the  white  sides  and  throws  her  into  the 
deep  Donau,  saying.  Swim  with  the  stream  ;  we  shall 
not  live  together.  She  swims  over  the  yellow  sand, 
crying,  Was  I  not  fair,  or  was  it  my  fate?  and  he  dryly 
answers.  Fair  ;  it  was  thy  fate.  In  B  it  is  a  Jew's 
daughter  that  is  wiled  away.  They  go  in  one  wagon  ; 
another  is  laden  with  boxes  [of  valuables  ?]  and  pillows, 
a  third  with  gold  pennies.  She  asks,  Where  is  your 
bouse  ?  Over  those  hills,  he  answers.  He  takes  her 
over  a  high  bridge,  and  throws  her  into  the  Donau, 
with,  Swim,  since  you  were  not  acquainted  with  our 
way,  our  faith  I 

42  a.     A,  line  2.     Read  :  Puymaigre. 

43  a.  D.  Add :  Poesies  populaires  de  la  France,  IV, 
fol.  332,  Chanson  de  I'Aunis,  Charente  Inferieur  ;  but 
even  more  of  the  story  is  lost. 

44  a.  A  ballad  in  Casetti  e  Imbriani,  C.  p.  delle  Pro- 
vincie  meridionali,  II,  1,  begins  like  '  La  Contadina  alia 
Fonte  '  (see  p.  393  a),  and  ends  like  '  La  Monferrina  In- 
contaminata.'  Of  the  same  class  as  the  last  is,  I  sup- 
pose, Nannarelli,  Studio  comparativo  sui  Canti  popo- 
lari  di  Arlena,  p.  51,  No  50  (Kcihler),  which  I  regret 
not  yet  to  have  seen. 

45  a.  Portuguese  C,  D,  in  Alvaro  Rodrigues  de  Aze- 
vedo,  Romanceiro  do  Archipelago  da  Madeira,  p.  57, 
'  Estoria  do  Bravo-Franco,'  p.  60,  '  Gallo-frann-o.' 

47.  A  story  from  Neumiinster  about  one  Gbrtmi- 
cheel,  a  famous  robber,  in  Miillenhoff',  p.  37,  No  2, 
blends  features  of  '  Hind  Etin,'  or  '  The  Maid  and  the 
Dwarf-King,'  No  41,  with  others  found  in  the  Macyar 
ballad,  p.  45  f.  A  handsome  wench,  who  had  been  lost 
seven  years,  suddenly  reappeared  at  the  home  of  her 
parents.  She  said  that  she  was  not  at  liberty  to  ex- 
plain where  she  had  been,  but  her  mother  induced  her 
to  reveal  this  to  a  stone  near  the  side-door,  and  takinc 
up  her  Station  behind  the  door  heard  all.  She  had 
been  carried  off  by  a  robber  ;  had  lived  with  him  seven 
years,  and  borne  him  seven  children.  The  robber,  who 
had  otherwise  treated  her  well,  had  refused  to  let  her 
visit  her  home,  but  finr.Uy  had  granted  her  this  permis- 
sion upon  her  promising  to  say  nothing  about  him. 
When  the  time  arrived  for  her  daughter  to  go  back,  the 
mother  gave  her  a  bag  of  peas,  which  she  was  to  drop 
one  by  one  along  the  way.     She  was  kindly  received. 


6=. 

7^. 


but  presently  the  robber  thought  there  was  something 
strange  in  her  ways.  He  laid  his  head  in  her  lap,  invit- 
ing her  to  perform  the  service  so  common  in  like  cases. 
^Vhile  she  was  doing  this,  she  could  not  but  think  how 
the  robber  had  loved  her  and  how  he  was  about  to  be 
betrayed  by  her,  and  her  remorseful  tears  dropped  on 
his  face.  "  So  you  have  told  of  me  !  "  cried  the  astute 
robber,  springing  up.  He  cut  off  the  children's  heads 
and  strung  them  on  a  willow-twig  before  her  eyes,  and 
was  now  coming  to  her,  when  people  arrived,  under  the 
mother's  conduct,  who  put  a  stop  to  his  further  revenge, 
and  took  their  own.     See  the  note,  Miillenhoff,  p.  592  f. 

57a.  D.  Insert:  d.  A  stall-copy  lent  me  by  Mrs 
Alexander  Forbes,  Liberton,  Edinburgh.  (See  p.  23, 
note  §.) 

62  b.     Insert  after  o  : 

d.    1^'  ^.  Have  ye  not  heard  of  fause  Sir  John, 
Wha  livd.  in  the  west  country  ? 

After  2  a  stanza  nearly  as  in  b. 
5  vjanting. 

&.  But  he  's  taen  a  charm  frae  a£E  his  arm. 
follow  him. 

five  hundred.     7^.  the  bravest  horse. 
8'.  So  merrily. 

8^.  Which  is  called  Benan  Bay. 
9,  11,  wanting. 
121.  Cast  afP,  cast  aff.     12^  To  sink. 

13.  Nearly  as  in  b. 

14.  '  Cast  aff  thy  coats  and  gay  mantle, 
And  smock  o  Holland  lawn. 

For  thei'r  owre  costly  and  owre  guid 
To  rot  in  the  sea  san.' 

15.  '  Then  turn  thee  round,  I  pray.  Sir  John, 
See  the  leaf  flee  owre  the  tree, 

For  it  never  befitted  a  book-learned  man 
A  naked  lady  to  see.' 

Sir  John  being  a  Dominican  friar,  according 
to  tlie  historical  preface. 

18.  As  fause  Sir  John  did  turn  him  round, 
To  see  the  leaf  flee  owre  the  [tree], 
She  grasped  him  in  her  arms  sma, 
And  flung  him  in  the  sea. 

17.  '  Now  lie  ye  there,  ye  wild  Sir  John, 
Whar  ye  thought  to  lay  me  ; 
Ye  wad  hae  drownd  me   as  naked  's  I  was 
born, 
But  ye 's  get  your  claes  frae  me  ! ' 


ADDITIONS  AND   CORRECTIONS 


489 


18.  Her  jewels,  costly,  rich  and  rare, 
She  straight  puts  on  again  ; 
She  lightly  springs  upon  her  horse, 
And  leads  his  by  the  rein.   . 

21'.  0  that 's  a  foundling. 

22.  Then  out  and  spake  the  green  parrot, 

He  says,  Fair  May  Culzean, 
O  what  hae  ye  done  wi  yon  brave  knight  ? 

23.  '  Hand  your  tongue,  my  pretty  parrot, 

An  I  'se  be  kind  to  thee  ; 
For  where  ye  got  ae  handfu  o  groats, 
My  parrot  shall  get  three.' 

25.  '  There  came  a  cat  into  my  cage, 
Had  nearly  worried  me. 
And  I  was  calling  on  May  Culzean 
To  come  and  set  me  free.' 

27  wanting.     28'.  Carleton  sands. 

292.  Was  dashed.     29'.  The  golden  ring. 

5.    Gil  Brenton. 

P.  62  a,  last  three  lines.  Read:  said  by  Lockhart  to 
be  Miss  Christian  Rutherford,  bis  mother's  half-sister. 

66  b,  lines  2,  3.  Read:  37  G,  38  A,  D,  and  other 
versions  of  both. 

66  b,  line  4.  '  Bitte  Mette,'  Kristensen,  Jyske  Folke- 
minder,  V,  57,  No   7,  affords  another  version. 

66  b,  last  line.  For  other  cases  of  this  substitution 
see  Legrand,  Recueil  de  Contes  populaires  grecs,  p. 
257,  <  La  Prinuesse  et  sa  Nourrice  ; '  Koliler,  Romania, 
XI,  581-84,  '  Le  conte  de  la  reine  qui  tua  son  sene- 
chal ; '  Neh-Manzer,  ou  Les  Neuf  Loges,  conte,  traduit 
du  persan  par  M.  Lescallier,  Genes,  1808,  p.  55,  '  His- 
toire  du  devin  Afezzell.'  (Kohler.)  The  last  I  have 
not  seen. 

67  a,  note  •,  line  37.     Read:  a  Scotch  name. 

84  b.  The  same  artifice  is  tried,  and  succeeds,  in  a 
case  of  birth  delayed  by  a  man's  clasping  his  hands 
round  his  knees,  in  Asbjernsen,  Norske  Huldre-Even- 
tyr,  I,  20,  2d  ed. 

85  a,  first  paragraph.  A  story  closely  resembling 
Heywood's  is  told  in  the  Ziinmerische  Chronik,  ed. 
Barack,  IV,  262-64,  1882,  of  Heinrich  von  Dierstein  ; 
Liebrecht  in  Germania  XIV,  404.  (Kohler.)  As  the 
author  of  the  chronicle  remarks,  the  tale  (Heywood's) 
is  in  the  Malleus  Maleficarum  (1620,  I,  158  f). 

85  a,  third  paragraph.  Other  cases  resembling  Gon- 
zenbach,  No  54,  in  Pitre,  Fiabe,  Novelle,  etc.,  I,  1 73, 
No  18  ;  Comparetti,  Novelline  popolari,  No  33,  p.  139. 
(Kohler.) 

85,  note.     Add  :  (Kohler.) 
62 


85  b.  Birth  is  sought  to  be  maliciously  impeded  in 
Swabia  by  crooking  together  the  little  fingers.  Lam- 
mert,  Volksmedizin  in  Bayern,  etc.,  p.  165.    (Kohler.) 

7.   Earl  Brand. 

P.  88.     Add  : 

G.  '  Gude  Earl  Brand  and  Auld  Carle  Hude,'  the 
Paisley  Magazine,  1828,  p.  321,  communicated  by  W. 
Motherwell. 

H.  '  Auld  Carle  Hood,  or.  Earl  Brand,'  Campbell 
MSS,  n,  32. 

I.  '  The  Douglas  Tragedy,'  '  Lord  Douglas'  Trag- 
edy,' from  an  old-looking  stall-copy,  without  place  or 
date. 

This  ballad  was,  therefore,  not  first  given  to  the 
world  by  Mr  Robert  Bell,  in  1857,  but  nearly  thirty 
years  earlier  by  Motherwell,  in  the  single  volume  of  the 
Paisley  Magazine,  a  now  somewhat  scarce  book.  I  am 
indebted  for  the  information  and  for  a  transcript  to  Mr 
Murdoch,  of  Glasgow,  and  for  a  second  copy  to  Mr  Mac- 
math,  of  Edinburgh. 

92  a.  Add :  I.  '  Hildebrand,'  Wigstrom,  Folkdikt- 
ning,  II,  13.     J.  '  Frciken  Gyllenborg,'  the  same,  p.  24. 

96  a.  BoSvar  Bjarki,  fighting  with  great  effect  as  a 
huge  bear  for  Hrdlfr  Kraki,  is  obliged  to  return  to  his 
ordinary  shape  in  consequence  of  Hjalti,  who  misses  the 
hero  from  the  fight,  mentioning  his  name :  Saga  Hrdlfs 
Kraka,  c.  50,  Fornaldar  Sogur,  I,  101  ff.  In  Hjalmters 
ok  divers  Saga,  c.  20,  F.  S.  Ill,  506  f,  Hdi-Sr  bids  his 
comrades  not  call  him  by  name  while  he  is  fighting,  in 
form  of  a  sword-fish,  with  a  walrus,  else  he  shall  die.  A 
prince,  under  the  form  of  an  ox,  fighting  with  a  six- 
headed  giant,  loses  much  of  his  strength,  and  is  nigh 
being  conquered,  because  a  lad  has,  contrary  to  his 
prohibition,  called  him  by  name.  Asbjarnsen  og  Moe, 
Norske  Folkeeventyr,  2d  ed.,  p.  419.  All  these  are 
cited  by  Moe,  in  Nordisk  Tidskrift,  1879,  p.  286  f.  Cer- 
tain kindly  domestic  spirits  renounce  relations  with  men, 
even  matrimonial,  if  their  name  becomes  known:  Maun- 
hardt,  Wald-  und  Feldkulte,  I,  103. 

97  b.  Insert:  Spanish.  Mila,  Romancerillo  Cata- 
lan, 2d  ed..  No  206,  D,  p.  164:  olivera  y  oliverd,  which, 
when  grown  tall,  join. 

Servian.  Add  :  Karadshitch,  I,  345,  vv  225  ff,  two 
pines,  which  intertwine.  In  I  309,  No  421,  they  plant  a 
rose  over  the  maid,  a  vine  over  the  man,  which  embrace 
as  if  they  were  Jani  and  Milenko.  The  ballad  has 
features  of  the  Earl  Brand  class.  (I,  239,  No  341  = 
Talvj,  II,  85.) 

Russian.  Hilferding,  Onezhskya  Byliny,  col.  154, 
No  31,  laburnum  (?)  over  Basil,  and  cypress  over  So- 
phia, which  intertwine;  col.  696,  No  134,  cypress  and 
willow;  col.  1242,  No  285,  willow  and  cypress. 

Little  Russian  (Carpathian  Russiaiis  in  Hungary), 
Golovatsky,  II,  710,  No  13  :  John  on  one  side  of  the 
church,  Annie  on  the  other;  rosemary  on  his  grave,  a 
lily  on  hers,  growing  so  high  as  to  meet  over  the  church. 
Annie's  mother  cuts  them  down.    John  speaks  from  the 


490 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


grave  :  Wicked  mother,  thou  wouldst  not  let  us  live  to- 
gether ;  let  us  rest  together.  Golovatsky,  I,  18G,  No  8  : 
a  maple  from  the  man's  grave,  white  birch  from  the 
woman's,  which  mingle  their  leaves. 

Slovenian.  Stiir,  O  ndrodni'ch  Pisni'ch  a  Povestech 
Piemen  slovanskych,  p.  51 :  the  lovers  are  buried  east 
and  west,  a  rose  springs  from  the  man's  grave,  a  lily 
from  the  maid's,  which  mingle  their  growth. 

Wend.     Add  :  Haupt  and  Schmaler,  II,  310,  No  81. 

Breton.  Add :  Villemarque,  Barzaz  Breiz,  '  Le 
Seigneur  Nann  et  La  Fee,'  see  p.  379,  note  §,  of  this 
volume. 

98  a.  Armenian.  The  ashes  of  two  lovers  who 
have  been  literally  consumed  by  a  mutual  passion  are 
deposited  by  sympathetic  hands  in  one  grave.  Two 
rose  bushes  rise  from  the  grave  and  seek  to  intertwine, 
but  a  thorn  interposes  and  makes  the  union  forever  im- 
possible. (The  thorn  is  creed.  The  young  man  was  a 
Tatar,  and  his  religion  had  been  an  insuperable  obstacle 
in  the  eyes  of  the  maid's  father.)  Baron  von  Haxt- 
hausen,  Transkaukasia,  I,  315  f.    (Kohler.) 

A  Middle  High  German  poem  from  a  MS.  of  the 
end  of  the  14th  century,  printed  in  Haupt's  Zeitschrift, 
VI,  makes  a  vine  rise  from  the  common  grave  of  Pyra- 
mus  and  Thisbe  and  descend  into  it  again:  p.  517. 
(Kohler.) 

J.  Grimm  notes  several  instances  of  this  marvel  (not 
from  ballads),  Ueber  Frauennamen  aus  Blumen,  Klei- 
nere  Schriften,  II,  379  f,  note  **. 

104. 


G 


The  Paisley  Magazine,  June  2,  1828,  p.  321,  commuui- 
cated  by  William  Motlierwell.  "  Sung  to  a  long,  drawling, 
monotonous  tune." 


1  '  Gude  Earl  Brand,  I  long  to  see 

Faldee  faldee  fal  deediddle  a  dee 
All  your  grey  hounds  running  over  the  lea.' 
And  the  brave  knights  in  the  valley 

2  '  Gude  lady  fair,  I  have  not  a  steed  but  one, 
But  you  shall  ride  and  I  shall  run.' 

3  They  're  ower  moss  and  they  're  ower  mure, 
And  they  saw  neither  rich  nor  pure. 

4  Until  that  they  came  to  auld  Karl  Hude  ; 
He  's  aye  for  ill  and  never  for  gude. 

5  '  Gude  Earl  Brand,  if  ye  love  me, 
Kill  auld  Karl  Hude,  and  gar  him  die.' 


7  '  Gude  Earl  Brand,  whare  hae  ye  been, 
Or  VFhare  hae  ye  stown  this  lady  sheen  ?  ' 

8  '  She  's  not  my  lady,  but  my  sick  sister, 
And  she  's  been  at  the  weUs  of  Meen.' 

9  '  If  she  -was  sick,  and  very  sair, 

She  wadna  wear  the  red  gold  on  her  hair. 

10  '  Or  if  she  were  sick,  and  like  to  be  dead, 
She  wadna  wear  the  ribbons  red.' 

11  He  cam  till  he  cam  to  her  father's  gate, 
And  he  has  rappit  furious  thereat. 

12  '  Where  is  the  lady  o  this  hall  ?  ' 

'  She  's    out  wi   her  maidens,  playing  at  the 
baU.' 

13  '  If  you  '11  get  me  fyfteen  wale  wight  men, 
Sae  fast  as  I  '11  fetch  her  back  again.' 

14  She  's  lookit  ower  her  left  collar-bane  : 

'  O  gude  Earl  Brand,  we  baith  are  taen.' 

15  '  Light  dovm,  light  down,  and  hold  my  steed  ; 
Change    never    your    cheer    till   ye    see    me 

dead. 

16  'If  they  come  on  me  man  by  man, 
I  '11  be  very  laith  for  to  be  taen. 

17  '  But  if  they  come  on  me  one  and  all. 
The  sooner  you  will  see  me  fall.' 

18  0  he  has  kiUd  them  all  but  one, 

And  wha  was  that  but  auld  Karl  Hude. 

19  And  he  has  come  on  him  behind, 
And  put  in  him  the  deadly  wound. 

20  0  he  has  set  his  lady  on, 

And  he  's  come  whistling  all  along. 

21  '  Gude  Earl  Brand,  I  see  blood  : ' 

'  It 's  but  the  shade  o  my  scarlet  robe.' 

22  They  cam  tiU  they  cam  to  the  water  aflood ; 
He  's  lighted  down  and  he  's  wushen  a£E  the 

blood. 


6  '  O  fair  ladie,  we  'U  do  better  than  sae : 
Gie  him  a  penny,  and  let  him.  gae.' 


23  His  mother  walks  the  floor  alone : 
'  0  yonder  does  come  my  poor  son. 


ADDITIONS  AND  COKEECTION8 


491 


24  '  He  is  both  murderd  and  andone, 
Ajid  all  for  the  sake  o  an  English  loon.' 

25  '  Say  not  sae,  my  dearest  mother, 
Marry  her  on  my  eldest  brother.' 

26  She  set  her  fit  up  to  the  wa, 
Faldee  faldee  fal  deediddle  adee 

She  's  fallen  down  dead  amang  them  a'. 
And  the  brave  knights  o  the  valley 


Campbell  MSS,  II,  32. 

1  Did  you  ever  hear  of  good  Earl  Brand, 

Aye  lally  an  Ully  lally 
And  the  king's  daughter  of  fair  Scotland  ? 
And  the  braw  knights  o  Airly 

2  She  was  scarce  fifteen  years  of  age 
When  she  came  to  Earl  Brand's  bed. 

Wi  the  braw  knights  o  Airly 

3  '  O  Earl  Brand,  I  fain  wad  see 
Our  grey  hounds  run  over  the  lea.' 

Mang  the  braw  bents  o  Airly 

4  '  O,'  says  Earl  Brand,  '  I  've  nae  steads  but 

one, 
And  you  shall  ride  and  I  shall  run.' 
Oer  the  braw  heights  o  Airly 

5  '  O,'  says  the  lady,  '  I  hae  three. 
And  ye  shall  hae  yeer  choice  for  me.' 

Of  the  braw  steeds  o  Airly 

6  So  they  lap  on,  and  on  they  rade, 
Till  they  came  to  auld  Carle  Hood. 

Oer  the  braw  hills  o  Airly 

7  Carl  Hood  's  aye  for  ill,  and  he  's  no  for  good. 
He  's  aye  for  Ul,  and  he  's  no  for  good. 

Mang  the  braw  hills  o  Airly 

8  '  Where  hae  ye  been  hunting  a'  day, 
And  where  have  ye  stolen  this  fair  may  ? ' 

I'  the  braw  nights  sae  airly 

9  '  She  is  my  sick  sister  dear. 

New  comd  home  from  another  sister.' 
I  the  braw  nights  sae  early 


10  '  0,'  says  the  lady,  '  if  ye  love  me, 
Gie  him  a  penny  fee  and  let  him  gae.' 

I  the  braw  nights  sae  early 

11  He  's  gane  home  to  her  father's  bower. 


12  '  Where  is  the  lady  o  this  ha  ? ' 

'  She 's  out  wi  the  young  maids,  playing  at  the 
ba.' 
I  the  braw  nights  so  early 

13  '  No,'  says  another,  '  she  's  riding  oer  the  moor. 
And  a'  to  be  Earl  Brand's  whore.' 

I  the  braw  nights  so  early 

14  The  king  mounted  fifteen  weel  armed  men, 
A'  to  get  Earl  Brand  taen. 

I  the  braw  hills  so  early 

15  The  lady  looked  over  her  white  horse  mane  : 

*  O  Earl  Brand,  we  will  be  taen.' 

In  the  braw  hills  so  early 

16  He  says,  If  they  come  one  by  one, 
Ye  '11  no  see  me  so  soon  taen. 

In  the  braw  hills  so  early 

17  So  they  came  every  one  but  one, 
And  he  has  kiUd  them  a'  but  ane. 

In  the  braw  hills  so  early 

18  And  that  one  came  behind  his  back. 
And  gave  Earl  Brand  a  deadly  stroke. 

In  the  braw  lulls  of  Airly 

19  For  as  sair  wounded  as  he  was. 
He  lifted  the  lady  on  her  horse. 

In  the  braw  nights  so  early 

20  '  0  Earl  Brand,  I  see  thy  heart's  bluid  ! ' 

*  It 's  but  the  shadow  of  my  scarlet  robe.' 

I  the  braw  nights  so  early 

21  He  came  to  his  mother's  home  ; 


22  She  looked  out  and  cryd  her  son  was  gone. 
And  a'  for  the  sake  [of]  an  English  loon. 


492 


ADDITIONS  AND   COKRECTIONS 


23  '  What  will  I  do  wi  your  lady  fair  ?  ' 
'  Marry  her  to  my  eldest  brother.' 
The  brawest  knight  i  Airly 

21*.  to  her.     21\  22  are  written  as  one  stanza. 


A  stall-copy  lent  me  by  Mrs  Alexander  Eorbes,  Libeiton, 
Edinburgh. 

1  '  Rise  up,  rise  up,  Lord  Douglas,'  she  said, 

'  And  draw  to  your  arms  so  bright ; 
Let  it  never  be  said  a  daughter  of  yours 
Shall  go  with  a  lord  or  a  knight. 

2  '  Rise  up,  rise  up,  my  seven  bold  sons, 

And  draw  to  your  armour  so  bright ; 
Let  it  never  be  said  a  sister  of  yours 
Shall  go  with  a  lord  or  a  knight.' 

3  He  looked  over  his  left  shoulder. 

To  see  what  he  could  see. 
And  there  he  spy'd  her  seven  brethren  bold, 
And  her  father  that  lov'd  her  tenderly. 

4  '  Light  down,  light  down,  Lady  Margret,'  he 

said, 
'  And  hold  my  steed  in  thy  hand, 
That  I  may  go  fight  with  your  seven  brethren 

bold. 
And  your  father  who  's  just  at  hand.' 

5  0  there  she  stood,  and  bitter  she  stood. 

And  never  did  shed  a  tear, 
TUl  once  she  saw  her  seven  brethren  slain. 
And  her  father  she  lovd  so  dear. 

6  '  Hold,  hold  your  hand,  William, '  she  said, 

'  For  thy  strokes  are  wondrous  sore  ; 
For  sweethearts  I  may  get  many  a  one. 
But  a  father  I  neer  wiU  get  more.' 

7  She   took   out   a  handkerchief  of   hoUand   so 

fine 
And  wip'd  her  father's  bloody  woimd. 
Which  ran  more  clear  than  the  red  wine,. 
And  forked  on  the  cold  ground. 

8  '  0  chuse  you,  chuse  you,  Margret,'  he  said, 

'  Whether  you  will  go  or  bide  !  ' 
'  I  must  go  with  you.  Lord  WUliam,'  she  said, 
'  Since  you  've  left  me  no  other  guide.' 


9  He  lifted  her  on  a  milk-white  steed. 
And  himself  on  a  dapple  grey, 
With  a  blue  gilded  horn  hanging  by  his  side. 
And  they  slowly  both  rode  away. 

10  Away  they  rode,  and  better  they  rode, 

Till  they  came  to  yonder  sand, 
Till  once  they  came  to  yon  river  side. 
And  there  they  lighted  down. 

11  They  lighted  down  to  take  a  drink 

Of  the  spring  that  ran  so  clear. 
And  there  she  spy'd  his  bonny  heart's  blood, 
A  rimning  down  the  stream. 

12  '  Hold  up,  hold  up,  Lord  William,'  she  says, 

'  For  I  fear  that  you  are  slain  ; ' 
'  'T  is    nought   but   the   shade    of  my   scarlet 
clothes. 
That  is  sparkling  down  the  stream.' 

13  He  lifted  her  on  a  milk-white  steed. 

And  himself  on  a  dapple  grey. 
With  a  blue  gilded  horn  hanging  by  his  side. 
And  slowly  they  rode  away. 

14  Ay  they  rode,  and  better  they  rode, 

TiU  they  came  to  his  mother's  bower  ; 
Till  once  they  came  to  his  mother's  bower. 
And  down  they  lighted  there. 

15  '  O  mother,  mother,  make  my  bed, 

And  make  it  saft  and  fine. 
And  lay  my  lady  close  at  my  back, 
That  I  may  sleep  most  sound.' 

16  Lord  William  he  died  eer  middle  o  the  night. 

Lady  Margret  long  before  the  morrow ; 
Lord  William  he  died  for  pure  true  love, 
And  Lady  Margret  died  for  sorrow. 

17  Lord  William  was  bury'd  in  Lady  Mary's  kirk. 

The  other  in  Saint  Mary's  quire ; 
Out  of  William's  grave  sprang  a  red  rose, 
And  out  of  Margret's  a  briar. 

18  And  ay  they  grew,  and  ay  they  threw, 

As  they  wad  fain  been  near  ; 
And  by  this  you  may  ken  right  well 
They  were  twa  lovers  dear. 

105  b.     D.    10.  For  Kinlock  (twice)  read  Kinloeh  ; 
and  read  I,  330. 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


493 


The  stanza  cited  is  found  in  Kinloch  MSS,  VII,  95 
and  255. 

107  b.  There  is  possibly  a  souvenir  of  Walter  in 
Susil,  p.  105,  No  107.  A  man  and  wonijin  are  riding 
on  one  horse  in  the  mountains.  He  asks  her  to  sing. 
Her  song  is  heard  by  robbers,  who  come,  intending  to 
kill  him  and  carry  her  off".  He  bids  her  go  under  a 
maple-tree,  kills  twelve,  and  spares  one,  to  carry  the 
booty  home. 

9.    The  Fair  Flower  of  Northumberland. 

P.  Ill  a.  B  b,  as  prepared  by  Kinloch  for  printing, 
is  found  in  Kinloch  MSS,  VII,  105. 

Add:  P.  'The  Fair  Flower  of  Northumberland,' 
Gibb  MS.,  No  8. 


117. 


Gibb  MS.,  No  8  :  '  The  Fair  Flower  o  Northnmberland,' 
from  Jeannie  Stirling,  a  young  girl,  as  learned  from  her 
grandmother. 


1  She  stole  the  keys  from  her  father's  bed-head, 

0  but  her  love  it  was  easy  won  ! 
She  opened  the  gates,  she  opened  them  wide, 
She  let  him  out  o  the  prison  strong. 

2  She  went  into  her  father's  stable, 

O  but  her  love  it  was  easy  won  ! 
She   stole   a  steed   that  was  both   stout   and 
sti'ong, 
To  carry  him  hame  frae  Northumberland. 


3  '  I  'U  be  cook  in  your  kitchen, 

Noo  sure  my  love  has  been  easy  won ! 
I  '11  serve  your  own  lady  with  hat  an  with 
hand, 
For  1  dauma  gae  back  to  Northumberland.' 

4  *  I  need  nae  cook  in  my  kitchin, 

O  but  your  love  it  was  easy  won  ! 
Ye  'U  serve  not  my  lady  with  hat  or  with  hand, 
For  ye  maun  gae  back  to  Northumberland.' 

5  When  she  gaed  hame,  how  her  father  did  ban ! 

'  O  but  your  love  it  was  easy  won ! 
A  fail'  Scottish  girl,  not  sixteen  years  old. 
Was  once  the  fair  flower   o   Northumber- 
land! ' 


10.   The  Twa  Sisters. 

Page  118  b.    K  is  found  in  Kinloch  MSS,  VII,  256. 

Add  :  V.  '  Benorie,'  Campbell  MSS,  II,  88. 

W.  '  Norham,  down  by  Norham,'  communicated  by 
Mr  1'homas  Lugton,  of  Kelso. 

X.  '  Binnorie,'  Dr  Joseph  Robertson's  Note-Book, 
January  1,  1830,  p.  7,  one  stanza. 

Y.  Communicated  to  Percy  by  Rev.  P.  Parsons, 
April  7,  1770. 

119  a.     Note  *,  first  line.    Read:  I,  315. 

120  a,  first  paragraph.  "  A  very  rare  but  very  stupid 
modern  adaptation,  founded  on  the  tradition  as  told  in 
SmSland,  appeared  in  Gotheborg,  1836,  small  8vo,  pp 
32  :  Antiquiteter  i  Thorskinge.  Fornminnet  eller  Kum- 
mel-Runan,  tolkande  Systersveket  BroUopps-dagen." 
The  author  was  C.  G.  Lindblom,  a  Swedish  priest.  The 
first  line  is : 

"  En  Naskonnng  bodde  p8  Illvedens  fjall." 

Professor  George  Stephens. 

120  a.  Note  *,  lines  3,  4.  Read  :  and  in  14, 15,  calls 
the  drowned  girl  "  the  bonnie  miller's  lass  o  Binorie," 
meaning  the  bonnie  miller  o  Binorie's  lass. 

124  a,  last  paragraph.  A  drowned  girl  grows  up  on 
the  sea-strand  as  a  linden  with  nine  branches:  from  the 
ninth  her  brother  carves  a  harp.  "  Sweet  the  tone," 
he  says,  as  he  plays.  The  mother  calls  out  through  her 
tears.  So  sang  my  youngest  daughter.  G.  Tillemann, 
in  Livona,  ein  historisch-poetisches  Taschenbuch,  Riga 
u.  Dorpat,  1812,  p.  187,  Ueber  die  Volkslieder  der  Let- 
ten.  Dr  R.  Kohler  points  out  to  me  a  version  of  this 
ballad  given  with  a  translation  by  Bishop  Carl  Chr. 
Ulmann  in  the  Dorpater  Jahrbiicher,  II,  404,  1834, 
'Die  Lindenharfe,'  and  another  by  Pastor  Karl  Ulmann 
in  his  Lettische  Volkslieder,  iibertragen,  1874,  p.  199, 
No  18,  'Das  Lied  von  der  Jungsten.'  In  the  former 
of  these  the  brother  says.  Sweet  sounds  my  linden  harp  ! 
The  mother,  weeping.  It  is  not  the  linden  harp  ;  it  is  thy 
sister's  soul  that  has  swum  through  the  water  to  us  ;  it 
is  the  voice  of  my  youngest  daughter. 

124  b,  first  paragraph.  In  Bohemian,  '  Zakleti  dcera,' 
'The  Daughter  Cursed,'  Erben,  1864,  p.  466  (with 
other  references)  ;  Moravian,  Susil,  p.  143,  No  146. 
Dr  R.  Kohler  further  refers  to  Peter,  Volksthiimliches 
aus  Osterreichisch-Schlesien,  I,  209,  'Die  drei  Spiel- 
leute;'  Meinert,  p.  122,  '  Die  Erie;'  Vernaleken,  Al- 
pensagen,  p.  289,  No  207,  '  Der  Ahornbaum.' 

125  b.  Add  to  the  citations:  'Le  Sifflet  enchante,' 
E.  Cosquin,  Contes  populaires  lorrains.  No  26,  Ro- 
mania, VI,  565,  with  annotations,  pp  567 f;  Kohler's 
Nachtriige  in  Zeitschrift  fiir  romanische  Philologie,  I], 
350  f  ;  Engelien  u.  Lahn,  Der  Volksmund  in  der  Mark 
Brandenburg,  I,  105,  'Dia  3  Briiijder  ; '  Sebillot,  Litte- 
rature  orale  de  la  Haute  Bretagne,  p.  220,  Les  Trois 
Freres,  p.  226,  '  Le  Sifflet  qui  parle.'    (Kohler.) 

132.     I.  10*.     Read:  for  water. 
K.  Say  :  Kinloch  MSS,  VII,  256. 


494  ADDITIONS  AND.  CORRECTIONS 

1^.  And  I'll  gie  the  hail  o  my  father's  land. 


2.  The  first  tune  that  the  bonnie  fiddle  playd, 
.  '  Hang  my  sister  Alison,'  it  said. 

8.  '  I  wad  gie  you.' 

136  a.    R  b.  Read  :  Lanarkshire. 


V 

Campbell  MS.,  II,  88. 

1  There  dwelt  twa  sisters  in  a  bower, 

Benorie,  O  Benorie 
The  youngest  o  them  was  the  fairest  flower. 
In  the  merry  milldams  o  Benorie 

2  There  cam  a  wooer  them  to  woo, 


11  The  miller's  daughter  cam  out  clad  in  red, 
Seeking  water  to  bake  her  bread. 

At  etc. 

12  '  O  father,  0  father,  gae  fish  yeer  mill-dam, 
There  's  either  a  lady  or  a  milk-[white]  swan.' 

In  etc. 

13  The  miller  cam  out  wi  his  lang  cleek. 
And  he  cleekit  the  lady  out  by  the  feet. 

From  the  bonny  milldam,  etc. 

14  Ye  wadna  kend  her  pretty  feet, 
The  American  leather  was  sae  neat. 

In  etc. 

15  Ye  wadna  kend  her  pretty  legs, 

The  silken  stockings  were  so  neat  tied. 
In  etc. 


3  He  's  gien  the  eldest  o  them  a  broach  and  a  real, 
Because  that  she  loved  her  sister  weel. 

At  etc. 

4  He  's  gien  the  eldest  a  gay  penknife. 

He  loved  the  youngest  as  dear  as  his  life. 
At  etc. 

6  '  0  sister,  0  sister,  will  ye  go  oer  yon  glen. 
And  see  my  father's  ships  coming  in  ? ' 
At  etc. 

6  '  0  sister  dear,  I  darena  gang. 
Because  I  'm  feard  ye  throw  me  in.' 

The  etc. 

7  '  O  set  your  foot  on  yon  sea  stane. 
And  was  yeer  hands  in  the  sea  foam.' 

At  etc. 

8  She  set  her  foot  on  yon  sea  stane. 
To  wash  her  hands  in  the  sea  foam. 

At  etc. 

«7    •  •  •  .  • 

But  the  eldest  has  thrown  the  youngest  in. 
The  etc. 

10  '  0  sister,  0  sister,  lend  me  your  hand, 
And  ye  'se  get  William  and  a'  his  land.' 
At  etc. 


16  Ye  wadna  kend  her  pretty  waist, 
The  silken  stays  were  sae  neatly  laced. 

In  etc. 

17  Ye  wadna  kend  her  pretty  face, 

It  was  sae  prettily  preend  oer  wi  lace. 
In  etc. 

18  Ye  wadna  kend  her  yellow  hair. 

It  was  sae  besmeared  wi  dust  and  glar. 
In  etc. 

19  By  cam  her  father's  fiddler  fine. 
And  that  lady's  spirit  spake  to  him. 

From  etc. 

20  She  bad  him  take  tliree  taits  o  her  hair. 

And  make  them  three  strings  to  his  fiddle  sae 
rare. 

At  etc. 

21  'Take  two  of  my  fingers,  sae  lang  and   sae 

white. 
And  make  them  pins  to  your  fiddle  sae  neat.' 
At  etc. 

22  The  ae  fii-st  spring  that  the  fiddle  played 
Was,  Cursed  be  Sir  John,  my  ain  true-love. 

At  etc. 

23  The  next  sprmg  tliat  the  fiddle  playd 
Was,  Burn  burd  Hellen,  she  threw  me  in. 

The  etc. 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


495 


2,  3.  In  the  MS.  thus  : 

There  came  .  .  . 

Benorie  .  .  . 
He  's  gien  .  .  . 

At  the  merry  .  .  . 
Because  that  .  .  . 

At  the  merry  .  .  . 

8,  9.  In  the  MS.  thus  : 

She  set  .  .  . 

Benorie  .  .  . 
To  wash  .  .  . 

At  the  .  .  . 
But  the  eldest  .  .  . 

The  bomiy  .  .  . 

From  18  on,  the  burden  is 

O  Benorie,  O  Benorie. 


8  He  could  not  catch  her  by  the  waist, 

For  her  silken  stays  they  were  tight  laced. 

9  But  he  did  catch  her  by  the  band. 

And  pulled  her  poor  body  unto  dry  land. 

10  He  took  three  taets  o  her  bonnie  yellow  hair, 
To  make  harp  stringfs  they  were  so  rare. 

11  The  very  first  tune   that    the    bonnie    harp 

played 
Was  The  aldest  has  cuisten  the  youngest  away. 


Dr  Joseph  Robertson's  Note-Book,  January  1, 1830,  p.  7. 

I  see  a  lady  in  the  dam, 

Binnorie,  oh  Blnnorie 
She  shenes  as  sweet  as  ony  swan. 

I  the  bonny  miUdams  o  Binnorie 


w 


Commanicatcd  bj'  Mr  Thomas  Lugton,  of  Kelso,  as  snng 


Commnnicated  to  Percy,  April   7,  1770,  and  April  19, 

"""'  "'  ^""'"'  ~  °"""s       1775  by  the  Rev.  P.  Parsons,  of  Wye,  near  Ashford,  Kent : 

by  an  old  cotter-woman  fifty  years  ago  ;  learned  by  her  from      „ ..  ,        j         t         .u  »u     t  \.u        •     •         l    ,   ■»  t 

^  J  J  a    t  J  "taken  down  from  the  mouth  of  the  spinning-wheel,  if  I 

her  grandfather.  ^^^  ^  ^^^^  ^j^^  expression." 


1  Ther  were  three  ladies  playing  at  the  ba, 

Norham,  down  by  Norham 
And  there  cam  a  knight  to  view  them  a'. 
By  the  bonnie  mill-dams  o  Norham 

2  He  courted  the  aldest  wi  diamonds  and  rings, 
But  he  loved  the  youngest  abune  a'  things. 


1  There  was  a  king  lived  in  the  North  Country, 

Hey  down  down  dery  down 
There  was  a  king  lived  in  the  North  Country, 

And  the  bough  it  was  bent  to  me 
There  was  a  king  lived  in  the  North  Country, 
And  he  had  daughters  one,  two,  three. 

I  'U  prove  true  to  my  love, 

If  my  love  will  prove  true  to  me. 


3  '  Oh  sister,  oh  sister,  lend  me  your  hand, 
And  pull  my  poor  body  unto  dry  land. 

4  '  Oh  sister,  oh  sister,  lend  me  your  glove, 
And  you  shall  have  my  own  true  love  ! ' 

5  Oot  cam  the  miller's  daughter  upon  Tweed, 
To  carry  in  water  to  bake  her  bread. 

6  '  Oh  father,  oh  father,  there 's  a  fish  in  your 

dam  ; 
It  either  is  a  lady  or  a  milk-white  swan.' 

7  Oot  cam  the  miller's  man  upon  Tweed, 
And  there  he  spied  a  lady  lying  dead. 


2  He  gave  the  eldest  a  gay  gold  ring, 
But  he  gave  the  younger  a  better  thing. 

3  He  bought  the  younger  a  beaver  hat ; 
The  eldest  she  thought  much  of  that 

4  '  Oh  sister,  oh  sister,  let  us  go  run. 
To  see  the  ships  come  sailing  along  ! ' 

5  And  when  they  got  to  the  sea-side  brim. 
The  eldest  pushed  the  younger  in. 

6  '  Oh  sister,  oh  sister,  lend  me  your  hand, 

I  'U  make  you  heir  of  my  house  and  land.' 


496 


ADDITIONS   AND  COEEECTIONS 


7  '  I  '11   neither   lend   you   my   hand   nor   my 

glove, 
Unless  you  grant  me  your  true-love.' 

8  Then  down  she  sunk  and  away  she  swam, 
Untill  she  came  to  the  miller's  miU-dam. 

9  The  miller's  daughter  sat  at  the  mill-door, 
As  fair  as  never  was  seen  before. 

10  '  Oh  father,  oh  father,  there  swims  a  swan, 
Or  else  the  body  of  a  dead  woman.' 

11  The  miUer  he  ran  with  his  fishing  hook. 
To  pull  the  fair  maid  out  o  the  brook. 

12  '  Wee  '11  hang  the  miller  upon  the  mill-gate, 
For  drowning  of  my  sister  Kate.' 


139  a.     K.  I  wad  give  you,  is  the  heginning  of  a  new 
stanza  (^as  seen  above}. 

141  b.     S.    Read:  l^.  MS.,  Orless. 


11.   The  Cruel  Brother. 

P.  141.     B,  I.  Insert  the  title,  '  Tl:e  Cruel  Brother.' 
Add:   L.  '  The  King  of  Fairies,'  Campbell  MSS,  IT, 
9. 
M.  '  The  Roses  grow  sweet  aye,'  Campbell  MSS,  II, 


19. 


26. 

N.  '  The  Bride's  Testamen,'  Dr  Joseph  Robertson's 
Note-Book,  January  1,  1830,  one  stanza. 

142  b,  second  paragraph,  lines  5,  6.  Say  :  on  the  way 
kisses  her  arm,  neck,  and  mouth. 

Add,  as  varieties  of  '  Rizzardo  bello  : ' 

B.  '  Luggieri,'  Contado  aretino,  communicated  by 
Giulio  Salvatori  to  the  Rassegna  Settimanale,  Rome, 
1879,  June  22,  No  77,  p.  485  ;  reprinted  in  Romania, 
XI,  391,  note. 

C.  '  Rizzol  d'Amor,'  Guerrini,  Alcuni  Canti  p.  ro- 
magnoli,  p.  3,  1880. 

D.  '  La  Canzone  de  'Nucenzie,'  Pitrd  e  Salomone- 
Marino,  Archivio  per  Tradizioni  popolari,  I,  213,  1882. 

143.  Slavic  ballads  resembling  '  Graf  Friedrich.' 
Moravian,  Susil,  '  Neit'astna  svatba,'  '  The  Unhappy 
Wedding,'  No  89,  c,  d,  pp  85  f.  A  bridegroom  is  bring- 
ing homo  his  bride;  his  sword  slips  from  the  sheath  and 
wounds  the  bride  in  the  side.  lie  binds  up  the  wound, 
and  begs  her  to  hold  out  till  she  comes  to  the  house. 
The  bride  can  eat  nothing,  and  dies  in  the  night.  Her 
mother  comes  in  the  morning  with  loads  of  cloth  and 
feathers,  is  put  off  when  she  asks  for  her  daughter,  re- 
proaches the  bridegroom  for  having  killed  her ;  he 
pleads  his  innocence. 


Servian.  Karadshitch,  I,  309,  No  421,  '  Jani  and 
Milenko,'  belongs  to  this  class,  though  mixed  with  por- 
tions of  at  least  one  other  ballad  ('  Earl  Brand  ').  Mi- 
lenko wooes  the  fair  Jani,  and  is  favored  by  her  mother 
and  by  all  her  brotliers  but  the  youngest.  This  brother 
goes  hunting,  and  bids  Jani  open  to  nobody  while  he  is 
away,  but  Milenko  carries  her  off  on  his  horse.  As  they 
are  riding  over  a  green  hill,  a  branch  of  a  tree  catches 
in  Jani's  dress.  Milenko  attempts  to  cut  the  branch  off 
with  his  knife,  but  in  so  doing  wounds  Jani  in  the  head. 
Jani  binds  up  the  wound,  and  they  go  on,  and  presently 
meet  the  youngest  brother,  who  hails  Milenko,  asks 
where  he  got  the  fair  maid,  discovers  the  maid  to  be 
his  sister,  but  bids  her  Godspeed.  On  reaching  his 
mother's  house,  Milenko  asks  that  a  bed  may  be  pre- 
pared for  Jani,  who  is  in  need  of  repose.  Jani  dies  in 
the  night,  Milenko  in  the  morning.  They  are  buried 
in  one  grave  ;  a  rose  is  planted  over  her,  a  grape-vine 
over  him,  and  these  intertwine,  "  as  it  were  Jani  with 
Milenko." 

143  b,  after  the  first  paragraph.  A  pallikar,  who  is 
bringing  home  his  bride,  is  detained  on  the  way  in  con- 
sequence of  his  whole  train  leaving  him  to  go  after  a 
stag.  The  young  man,  who  has  never  seen  his  bride's 
face,  reaches  over  his  horse  to  give  her  a  kiss ;  his  knife 
disengages  itself  and  wounds  her.  She  begs  him  to 
staunch  the  blood  with  his  handkerchief,  praying  only  to 
live  to  see  her  bridegroom's  house.  This  wish  is  al- 
lowed her  ;  she  withdraws  the  handkerchief  from  the 
wound  and  expires.  Dozen,  Chansons  p.  bulgares,  '  Le 
baiser  fatal,'  p.  270,  No  49. 

143  b,  sixth  line  of  the  third  paragraph.  Read: 
'  Lord  Randal' 

144  a,  line  4.  '  Catarina  de  Lid  ; '  in  Milil,  Roman- 
cerillo  Catalan,  2d  ed..  No  307,  p.  291,  '  Trato  feroz,' 
seven  versions. 

Line  15.  Cf.  Blad^,  Poesies  p.  de  la  Gascogne,  II, 
61. 

144  b,  first  paragraph.  A  mother,  not  liking  her 
son's  wife,  puts  before  him  a  glass  of  mead,  and  poison 
before  the  wife.  God  exchanges  them,  and  the  son 
drinks  the  poison.  The  son  makes  his  will.  To  his 
brother  he  leaves  four  black  horses,  to  his  sister  four 
cows  and  four  calves,  to  his  wife  a  house.  "  And  to 
me  ?  "  the  mother  asks.  "  To  you  that  big  stone  and 
the  deep  Danube,  because  you  have  poisoned  me  and 
parted  me  from  my  beloved."  Susil, '  Matka  traviCka,' 
pp  154,  155,  No  157,  two  versions. 

144  b,  second  paragraph.  '  El  testamento  de  Amelia,' 
No  220,  p.  185,  of  the  second  edition  of  Romancerillo 
Catalan,  with  readings  of  eleven  other  copies,  A-F, 
A,-F,.  In  B,  only  have  we  an  ill  bequest  to  the  mother. 
After  leaving  her  mother  a  rosary,  upon  the  mother's 
asking  again.  What  for  me  ?  the  dying  lady  says,  I  will 
leave  you  my  chopines,  clogs,  so  that  when  you  come 
downstairs  they  may  break  your  neck. 

There  are  testaments  in  good  will  also  in  '  Elveskud,' 
Grundtvig,  No  47,  IV,  836  ff,  L  14,  15,  M  17,  O  17-19. 


ADDITIONS   AND  COBRECTIONS 


497 


151. 


Campbell  MSS,  II,  19. 

1  There  were  three  ladies  playing  at  the  ba, 

With  a  hey  and  a  lilly  gay 
When  the  King  o  Fairies  rode  by  them  a'. 
And  the  roses  they  grow  sweetlie 

2  The  foremost  one  was  clad  in  blue  ; 
He  askd  at  her  if  she  'd  be  his  doo. 

3  The  second  of  them  was  clad  in  red  ; 
He  askd  at  her  if  she  'd  be  his  bride. 

4  The  next  of  them  was  clad  in  green ; 
He  askd  at  her  if  she  'd  be  his  queen. 

5  '  Go  you  ask  at  my  father  then. 
And  you  may  ask  at  my  mother  then. 

6  '  You  may  ask  at  my  sister  Ann, 
And  not  forget  my  brother  John.' 

7  '  0  I  have  askd  at  your  father  then. 
And  I  have  askd  at  your  mother  then. 

8  '  And  I  have  askd  at  your  sister  Ann, 
But  I  've  quite  forgot  your  brother  John.' 

9  Her  father  led  her  down  the  stair. 

Her  mother  combd  down  her  yellow  hair. 

10  Her  sister  Ann  led  her  to  the  cross, 

And  her  brother  John  set  her  on  her  horse. 

11  '  Now  you  are  high  and  I  am  low, 
Give  me  a  kiss  before  ye  go.' 

12  She 's  lootit  down  to  gie  him  a  kiss. 

He  gave  her  a  deep  wound  and  didna  miss. 

13  And  with  a  penknife  as  sharp  as  a  dart, 
And  he  has  stabbit  her  to  the  heart 

14  '  Ride  up,  ride  up,'  says  the  foremost  man, 
'  I  think  our  bride  looks  pale  an  wan.' 

15  '  Bide  up,  ride  up,'  says  the  middle  man, 
*  I  see  her  heart's  blude  trinkling  down.' 

16  '  Ride  on,  ride,'  says  the  Fairy  King, 

'  She  will  be  dead  lang  ere  we  win  hame.' 
63 


17  '  O  I  wish  I  was  at  yonder  cross, 

Where  my  brother  John  put  me  on  my  horse. 

18  '  I  wish  I  was  at  yonder  thorn, 

I  wad  curse  the  day  that  ere  I  was  born. 

19  '  I  wish  I  was  at  yon  green  hUl, 
Then  I  wad  sit  and  bleed  my  fill.' 

20  '  What  will  you  leave  your  father  then  ?  ' 
'  The  milk-white  steed  that  I  ride  on.' 

21  '  What  will  you  leave  your  mother  then  ?  ' 
'  My  silver  Bible  and  my  golden  fan.' 

22  '  What  will  ye  leave  your  sister  Ann  ? ' 
'  My  good  lord,  to  be  married  on.' 

23  '  What  will  ye  leave  your  sister  Pegg  ? ' 
'  The  world  wide  to  go  and  beg.' 

24  '  What  will  you  leave  your  brother  John  ?  ' 
'  The  gallows-tree  to  hang  him  on.' 

25  '  What  will  you  leave  your  brother's  wife  ? ' 
*  Grief  and  sorrow  to  end  her  life.' 

Burden  in  all  but  1,  2,  13,  UUy  hey ;  in  16,  17,  18, 
spring  sweetlie ;  in  22,  smell  sweetlie. 

M 

Campbell  MSS,  II,  26. 

1  There  was  three  ladies  playing  at  the  ba. 

With  a  hay  and  a  lUly  gay 
A  gentleman  cam  amang  them  a'. 
And  the  roses  grow  sweet  aye 

2  The  first  of  them  was  clad  in  yellow. 

And  he  askd  at  her  gin  she  'd  be  his  marrow. 

3  The  next  o  them  was  clad  in  green ; 
He  askd  at  her  gin  she  'd  be  his  queen. 

4  The  last  o  them  [was]  clad  in  red  ; 
He  askd  at  her  gin  she  'd  be  his  bride. 

5  '  Have  ye  asked  at  my  father  dear  ? 
Or  have  ye  asked  my  mother  dear  ? 

6  '  Have  ye  asked  my  sister  Ann  ? 

Or  have  ye  asked  my  brother  John  ? ' 


498 


ADDITIONS  AND   CORRECTIONS 


7  '  I  have  asked  yer  father  dear, 
And  I  have  asked  yer  mother  dear. 

8  '  I  have  asked  yer  sister  Ann, 

But  I  've  quite  forgot  your  brother  John.' 

9  Her  father  dear  led  her  thro  them  a', 
Her  mother  dear  led  her  thro  the  ha. 

10  Her  sister  Ann  led  her  thro  the  closs. 

And   her   brother   John   stabbed   her  on  her 
horse. 

11  '  Ride  up,  ride  up,'  says  the  foremost  man, 
'  I  think  our  bride  looks  pale  and  wan.' 

12  '  Ride  up,'  cries  the  bonny  bridegroom, 
'  I  think  the  bride  be  bleeding.' 

13  '  This  is  the  bludy  month  of  May, 

Me  and  my  horse  bleeds  night  and  day. 

14  '  O  an  I  were  at  yon  green  hill, 

I  wad  ly  down  and  bleed  a  while. 

15  '  0  gin  I  was  at  yon  red  cross, 

I  wad  light  down  and  corn  my  horse. 

16  '  O  an  I  were  at  yon  kirk-style, 

I  wad  lye  down  and  soon  be  weel.' 

17  When  she  cam  to  yon  green  hill. 
Then  she  lay  down  and  bled  a  while. 

18  And  when  she  cam  to  yon  red  cross. 
Then  she  lighted  and  corned  her  horse. 

19  '  What  will  ye  leave  your  father  dear  ?  ' 

'  My  milk-white  steed,  which  cost  me  dear.' 

20  '  What  will  ye  leave  your  mother  dear  ?  ' 
'  The  bludy  clothes  that  I  do  wear.' 

21  '  What  will  ye  leave  your  sister  Ann  ? ' 
'  My  silver  bridle  and  my  golden  fan.' 

22  '  What  will  ye  leave  your  brother  John  ?  ' 
'  The  gallows-tree  to  hang  him  on.' 

23  '  What  will  ye  leave  to  your  sister  Pegg  ?  ' 
'  The  wide  world  for  to  go  and  beg.' 

24  When  she  came  to  yon  kirk-style, 
Then  she  lay  down,  and  soon  was  weel. 


151. 
17-. 


green  cross, 
bleed. 

N 


Dr  Joseph  Robertson's  Note-Book,  January  1,  1830,  No  4. 

Then  out  bespak  the  foremost  priest : 

Wi  a  heigh  ho  and  a  liUy  gay 
I  tliink  she  's  bleedin  at  the  breast. 

The  flowers  they  spring  so  sweetly 


12.   Lord  Randal. 

P.  151. 

B.    Add  ;  Kinloch  MSS,  VII,  89. 

D.  Read  :  a.  '  Lord  Randal,'  Minstrelsy,  etc.  b. 
'  Lord  Rannal,'  Campbell  ]MSS,  II,  269. 

I.  Add  :  h.  Communicated  by  Mr  George  M.  Rich- 
ardson,    i.   Communicated  by  Mr  George  L.  Kittredge. 

K.  b.  Insert  after  Popular  Rhymes  :  1826,  p.  295. 
Add:   d.  'The  Crowdin  Dou,'  Kinloch  MSS,  I,  184. 

Add:  P.  'Lord  Ronald,  my  son,'  communicated  by 
]Mr  Macmath,  of  Edinburgh. 

Q.  '  Lord  Randal,'  Pitcairn's  MSS,  III,  19. 

R.  '  Little  wee  toorin  dow,'  Pitcairn's  MSS,  III,  13, 
from  tradition. 

153  a.  I  failed  to  mention,  though  I  had  duly  noted 
them,  three  versions  of  '  L'Avvelenato,'  which  are  cited 
by  Professor  D'Ancona  in  his  Poesia  popolare  Italiana, 
pp  106  ft'. 

D.  The  Canon  Lorenzo  Panciatichi  refers  to  the  bal- 
lad in  a  '  Cicalata  in  lode  della  Padella  e  della  Frit- 
tura,'  recited  at  the  Crusea,  September  24,  1656,  and 
in  such  manner  as  shows  that  it  was  well  known.  He 
quotes  the  first  question  of  the  mother,  "  Dove  andastu 
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. 

E.  A  version  obtained  by  D'Ancona  from  the  singing 
of  a  young  fellow  from  near  Pisa,  of  which  the  first  four 
stanzas  are  given.  Some  verses  after  these  are  lost,  for 
the  testament  is  said  to  supervene  immediately. 

F.  A  version  from  Lecco,  which  has  the  title,  derived 
from  its  burden,  '  De  lu  cavalieri  e  figliu  de  re,'  A. 
Trifone  Nutricati  Briganti,  Intorno  ai  Canti  e  Racconti 
popolari  del  Leccese,  p.  17.  The  first  four  stanzas  are 
cited,  and  it  appears  from  these  that  the  prince  had 
cooked  the  eel  himself,  and,  appropriately,  in  a  gold 
pan. 

154  a,  first  paragraph.  F  is  given  by  Meltzl,  Acta 
Comparationis,  1880,  columns  143  f,  in  another  dialect. 

154  b.  Magyar.  The  original  of  this  ballad,  'A 
megetett  Janos,'  '  Poisoned  John  '  (as  would  appear,  in 
the  Szekler  idiom),  was  discovered  by  the  Unitarian 
bishop  Kriza,  of  Klausenburg,  and  was  jjublished  by 
him  in  J.  Arany's  '  Koszoru,'  in  18G4.  It  is  more  ex- 
actly translated  by  Meltzl  in  the   Acta  Comparationis 


ADDITIONS  AND  COKRECTIONS 


499 


Litterarum  Universarum,  1880,  vii,  columns  30  f,  the 
original  immediately  preceding.  Aigner  has  omitted 
the  second  stanza,  and  made  the  third  into  two,  in  his 
translation.  The  Szekler  has  ten  two-line  stanzas,  with 
the  burden,  Ah,  my  bowels  are  on  fire !  Ah,  make  ready 
my  bed  1  In  the  second  stanza  John  says  he  has  eaten 
a  four-footed  crab  ;  in  the  sixth  he  leaves  his  elder 
brother  his  yoke  of  oxen  ;  in  the  seventh  he  leaves  his 
team  of  four  horses  to  his  younger  brother.  Also  trans- 
lated in  Ungarische  Revue,  1883,  p.  139,  by  G.  Hein- 
rich. 

B,  another  Szekler  version,  taken  down  by  Meltzl 
from  the  mouth  of  a  girl,  is  in  seven  two-line  stanzas, 
with  the  burden.  Make  my  bed,  sweet  mother  I  '  Jdnos,' 
Acta,  cols  140  f,  with  a  German  translation.  John  has 
been  at  his  sister-in-law's,  and  had  a  stnfied  chicken 
and  a  big  cake.  At  his  elder  sister's  they  gave  him  the 
back  of  the  axe,  bloody  stripes.  He  bequeaths  to  his 
elder  sister  remorse  and  sickness ;  to  his  sister-in-law 
six  oxen  and  his  wagon  ;  to  his  father  illness  and  pov- 
erty ;  to  his  mother  kindness  and  beggary. 

156  b,  second  paragraph.  Polish  :  add  Roger,  p. 
66,  No  119.  Add  further  :  Little  Russian,  Golovatsky, 
Part  I,  pp  206,  207,  209,  Nos  32,  33,  35.  Masovian, 
Kozlowski,  No  14,  p.  52,  p.  53.  (Sacharof,  IV,  7  =  Cel- 
akovsky.  III,  108.) 

157  a,  second  paragraph.  Kaden  translates  Nanna- 
relli,  p.  52.     (Kbhler.) 

157  b.  Italian  A  is  translated  by  Evelyn  Carrington 
in  The  Antiquary,  III,  156  f.  D  also  by  Freiligrath, 
II,  226,  ed.  Stuttgart,  1877. 

158  a.  B.  Found  in  Kinloch  MSS,  VII,  89.  The 
sixth  stanza  is  not  there,  and  was  probably  taken  from 
Scott,  D. 

160  a.  D.  Read  :  a.  Minstrelsy,  etc.  b.  Campbell 
MSS,  II,  269. 

163  a.  I.  Add:  h.  By  Mr  George  M.  Richardson, 
as  learned  by  a  lady  in  Southern  New  Hampshire,  about 
fifty  years  ago,  from  an  aged  aunt.  i.  By  Mr  George 
L.  Kittredge,  obtained  from  a  lady  in  Exeter,  N.  H. 

164  a.  K.  Insert  under  b,  after  Scotland  :  1826,  p. 
295.     Add  :  d.  Kinloch  MSS,  I,  184. 

164  b.     K  G'^.  Read  :  head  and  his  feet. 


'  I  've   been   in   the   wood  hunting ;    mother, 

make  my  bed  soon. 
For   I   am   weary,  weary   hunting,    and   fain 

would  lie  doun.' 

2  '  O  where   did  you   dine.   Lord   Ronald,   my 

son? 
O  where  did  you  dine,  my  handsome  young 

one  ?' 
'  I  dined  with  my  sweetheart ;  mother,  make 

my  bed  soon, 
For   I   am  weary,    weary   hunting,   and   fain 

would  lie  doun.' 

3  '  "What  got  you  to  dine  on,  Lord  Ronald,  my 

son  ? 
What  got  you  to  dine  on,  my  handsome  young 

one  ?' 
'  I  got  eels  boiled  in  water  that  in  heather  doth 

run. 
And  I  am  weary,    weary   hunting,    and   fain 

would  lie  doun.' 

4  '  What  did  she  wi  the  broo  o  them.  Lord  Ron- 

ald, my  son  ? 
What  did  she  wi  the  broo  o  them,  my  hand- 


some young  one 


?' 


'  She  gave  it  to  my  hounds  for  to  live  upon. 
And   I   am  weary,  weary  hunting,  and  fain 
would  lie  doun.' 

5  '  Where  are  your  hounds  now,  Lord  Ronald, 

my  son  ? 
Where  are  your  hounds  now,  my  handsome 

young  one  ?  ' 
'  They  are  a'  swelled  and  bursted,  and  sae  will 

I  soon, 
And  I   am  weary,   weary  hunting,    and   fain 

would  lie  doun.' 


165. 


Communicated  by  Mr  Macmath,  of  Edinburgh,  as  derived 
from  his  aunt,  Miss  Jane  Webster,  formerly  of  Airds  of 
KeUs,  now  {January,  1883)  of  Dairy,  Kirkcudbrightshire, 
who  learned  it  more  than  fifty  years  ago  from  Mary  Wil- 
liamson, then  a  niirse-maid  at  Airds. 

1  '  Where  hae  ye  been  a'  day,  Lord  Ronald,  my 
son  ? 
Where   hae   ye   been   a'   day,  my   handsome 
young  one  ? ' 


6  '  What  will  you  leave  your  father,  Lord  Ron- 

ald, my  son  ? 
What  will  you  leave  your  father,  my  handsome 

young  one  ? ' 
'  I  '11  leave  him  my  lands  for  to  live  upon. 
And   I   am   weary,  weary  hunting,   and   fain 

would  lie  doun.' 

7  '  What  will  you  leave  your  brother.  Lord  Ron- 

ald, my  son  ? 
What  will  you  leave  your  brother,  my  hand- 


some young  one 


?' 


500 


ADDITIONS  AND   CORRECTIONS 


'  I  '11  leave  him  my  gallant  steed  for  to  ride 

upon, 
And   I   am  weary,  weary  hunting,  and   fain 

would  lie  doun.' 

8  '  What  will  you  leave  your  sister,  Lord  Ronald, 

my  son  ? 
What  will  you  leave  your  sister,  my  handsome 

yoimg  one  ? ' 
'  I  '11   leave   her  my  gold  watch   for   to   look 

upon. 
And  I   am  weary,  weary  hunting,    and   fain 

would  lie  doun.' 

9  '  What  will  you  leave  your  mother.  Lord  Ron- 

ald, my  son  ? 
What  wiU  you  leave  your  mother,  my  hand- 


some young  one 


?' 


'  I  'U  leave  her  my  Bible  for  to  read  upon. 
And   I   am   weary,  weary  hunting,  and   fain 
would  lie  doun.' 

10  '  What  will  you  leave  your  sweetheart.  Lord 
Ronald,  my  son  ? 

What  will  you  leave  your  sweetheart,  my  hand- 
some young  one  ? ' 

'I'll  leave  her  the  gallows-tree  for  to  hang 
upon. 

It  was  her  that  poisoned  me  ; '  and  so  he  fell 
doun. 


Q 


Pitcairn's  MSS,  III,  19.  "  This  was  commnnicated  to  me 
by  my  friend  Patrick  Robertson,  Esq.,  Advocate,*  who 
heard  it  sung  by  an  old  lady  in  the  North  Country ;  and 
thouf;h  by  no  means  enthusiastic  about  popular  poetry,  it 
struck  him  so  forcibly  that  he  requested  her  to  repeat  it 
slowly,  so  as  he  might  write  it  down."  Stanzas  2-5  "  were 
very  much  similar  to  the  set  in  Scott's  Minstrelsy,"  and 
were  not  taken  down. 

1  '  0   whare   hae  ye   been,   Lord   Randal,   my 

son  ? 
O  whare  hae  ye  been,  my  handsome  young 

man? ' 
'  Oer  the  peat  moss  mang  the  heather,  mother, 

mak  my  bed  soon, 
For  I  'm  weary,  weary  hunting,  and  fain  wad 

lie  down.' 

*  Afterwards  a  judge,  with  the  name  of  Lord  Robert- 
son, but  universally  known  as  Peter  Robertson,  celebrated 
for  his  wit  and  good  fellowship  as  well  as  his  law,  friend  of 


6  '  What  leave  ye  to  your  father.  Lord  Randal, 

my  son  ? 
What  leave  ye  to  your  father,  my  handsome 

young  man  ? ' 
'  I  leave  my  houses  and  land,  mother,  mak  my 

bed  soon. 
For  I  'm  weary,  weary  hunting,  and  fain  wad 

lie  down.' 

7  '  What  leave  ye  to  your  brother.  Lord  Randal, 

my  son  ? 
What  leave  ye  to  your  brother,  my  handsome 

young  man  ? ' 
'  0  the  guid  milk-white  steed  tliat  I  rode  upon, 
For  I  'm  weary,  weary  hunting,  and  fain  wad 

lie  down.' 

8  '  What  leave  ye  to  your  true-love,  Lord  Ran- 

dal, my  son  ? 
What  leave  ye  to  your  true-love,    my  hand- 


some young  man 


9  ' 


*  O  a  high,  high  gaUows,  to  hang  her  upon. 
For  I  'm  weary,  weary  hunting,   and  fain  wad 
lie  down.' 


R 

Pitcairn's  MSS,  III,  II.    "From  tradition:  widow  Ste- 
venson." 

1  '  Whare  hae  ye  been  a'  day,  my  little  wee  toorin 

dow  ? ' 
'  It 's  I  've  been  at  my  grandmammy's ;  mak  my 
bed,  mammy,  now.' 

2  '  And  what  did  ye  get  frae  your  grandmammy, 

my  little  wee  toorin  dow  ?  ' 
'  It 's  I  got  a  wee  bit  fishy  to  eat ;  mak  my  bed, 
mammy,  now.' 

3  '  An  what  did  ye  do  wi  the  banes  o  it,  my  lit- 

tle wee  toorin  dow  ? ' 
'  I  gied  it  to  my  black  doggy  to  eat ;  mak  my 
bed,  mammy,  now.' 

4  '  An  what  did  your  little  black  doggy  do  syne, 

my  little  wee  toorin  dow  ?  ' 
'  He  shot  out  his  head,  and  his  feet,  and  he 
died ;  as  I  do,  mammy,  now.' 

Scott,  Christopher  North,  and  Lockhart ;  "  the  Paper  Lord, 
Lord  Petei-,  who  broke  the  laws  of  God,  of  man,  and  metre." 
Mr  Macmath's  note. 


ADDITIONS  AND  COKKECTIONS 


501 


S 

Communicated  to  Percy  by  TJev.  P.  Parsons,  of  Wye,  near 
Ashford,  Kent,  April  19,  1775  :  taken  down  by  a  friend  of 
Mr  Parsons  "  from  the  spinning-wheel,  in  Suffolk." 

1  'Where   have   you   been  today,  Randall,  my 

son  ? 
Where  have  you  been  today,  my  only  man  ? ' 
'  I  have  been  a  himting,  mother,  make  my  bed 

soon. 
For  I  'm  sick  at  the  heart,  fain  woud  lie  down. 
Dear  sister,  hold  my  head,  dear  mother,  make 

my  bed, 
I  am  sick  at  the  heart,  fain  woud  lie  down.' 

2  '  What  have  you  eat  today,  Randal,  my  son  ? 
What  have  you  eat  today,  my  only  man  ?  ' 

'  I  have  eat  an  eel ;  mother,  make,'  etc. 

3  *  What  was  the  colour  of  it,  Randal,  my  son  ? 
What  was  the  colour  of  it,  my  only  man  ?  ' 

'  It  was  neither  green,  grey,  blue  nor  black, 
But  speckled  on  the  back ;  make,'  etc. 

4  '  Who  gave  you  eels  today,  Randal,  my  son? 
Who  gave  you  eels  today,  my  only  man  ? ' 

'  My  own  sweetheart ;  mother,  make,'  etc. 

5  '  Where  shall  I  make  your  bed,  Randal,  my 

son  ? 
Where  shall  I  make  your  bed,  my  only  man  ?  ' 
'  In  the  churchyard ;  mother,  make,'  etc. 

6  '  What  will  you  leave  her  then,  Randall,  my 

son? 
What  will  you  leave  her  then,  my  only  man  ?  ' 
'  A  halter  to  hang  herself  ;  make,'  etc. 


166  a. 
D.  b. 


b. 


166  b. 
I.    h. 


k. 


b  2  =  a4;b3  = 
a  3  ;  a  2i>  «,  S*  ^  are 


Insert  after  C  : 
Disordered  ;  b  1  ^  a  1 

a  5»-  2  4-  a  2»'  <  ;  b  4  z 

wanting. 
1*.  been  at  the  hunting. 
3^.  I  fear  ye  've  drunk  poison. 
3'  =  a  2'.  I  supd  wi  my  auntie. 
41'  *  =  a  31'  ^.  your  supper. 
This  copy  may  be  an  imperfect  recollection  of  a 

Four  stanzas  only,  1,  2,  6,  7. 

1^.  my  own  little  one. 

1*.  at  the  heart  .  .  .  and  fain. 

6^.  will  you  leave  mother. 

7*.  will  you  leave  grandma.     7'.  a  rope. 

Seven  stanzas. 

1'.  to  see  grandmother. 


1*.  sick  at  heart,  and  fain. 
2*.  Striped  eels  fried. 

3  =  a  6,  d  6,  h  3. 

3''  '.  Your  grandmother  has  poisoned  you. 
3*.  I  know  it,  I  know  it. 

4  ^  a  6.    4^'  ^.  would  you  leave  mother. 

5  =  a  8,  b  9,  h  7. 

51,2.  would  you  leave  sister. 
5'.  A  box  full  of  jewels. 

6  =  a7;7  =  a8. 

6^  '.  would  you  leave  grandmother. 
6'.  A  rope  for  to  hang  her. 
71'  ^.  O  where  shall  I  make  it. 
K.   Add  after  c  : 
d.   1^.  my  bonnie  wee  crowdin,  and  always. 
2*.  frae  your  stepmither. 
2'.  She  gied  me  a  bonnie  wee  fish,  it  was  baith 

black  and  blue. 
5^.  my  ain  wee  dog. 
6^.  And  whare  is  your  ain  wee  dog. 

6'.  It  laid  down  its  wee  headie  and  deed, 
And  sae  maun  I  do  nou. 

Q.  "  The  second,  third,  fourth,  and  fifth  stanzas 
were  very  much  similar  to  the  set  Lord  Ronald,  in 
Scott's  Border  Minstrelsy,  and  as  Mr  Robertson  was 
hurried  he  did  not  take  down  the  precise  words." 
MS.,  p.  21. 

Ronald  is  changed  to  Randal  in  6,  7,  but  is  left  in  8. 

R.   Written  in  four-line  stanzas. 


13.   Edward. 

P.  168  a,  first  paragraph.  Add  :  Swedish  E,  Amin- 
son,  Bidrag  till  Sodermanlands  Kulturhistoria,  iii,  37, 
eight  stanzas.  Nine  stanzas  of  Finnish  B  are  trans- 
lated by  Schott,  Acta  Cpmparationis,  1878,  IV,  cols 
132,  133.  The  murder  here  is  for  wife-seduction,  a 
peculiar  and  assuredly  not  original  variation. 

168  b.  B  is  translated  by  Adolph  von  Maries,  p.  27; 
by  Graf  von  Platen,  II,  329,  Stuttgart,  1847  ;  after  Her- 
der into  Magyar,  by  Dr  Karl  von  Szdsz. 


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

P.  172  a.  Swedish.  Professor  George  Stephens 
points  me  to  two  localized  prose  outlines  of  the  story, 
one  from  SmSland,  the  other  from  SkSne  ;  '  Truls  och 
bans  barn,'  in  the  Svenska  Fornminnesfbreningens 
Tidskrift,  II,  77  f. 


15.   Leesome  Brand. 


P.  179  a.     Swedish.    II.    Add  : 
Strom,  Folkdiktning,  II,  28. 


I,  '  Risa  lill,'  Wig- 


502 


ADDITIONS  AND  COERECTIONS 


180  a,  lines  25,  26.     Read  :  A,  G,  M,  X. 

181  a.  German.  Add  :  D,  '  Der  Hitter  und  seine 
Geliebte,'  Ditfurth,  Deutsche  Volks-  und  Gesellschafts- 
lieder  des  17.  und  18.  Jahrhunderts,  p.  14,  No  13.  (Koh- 
ler.) 

181  b.  French.  C.  A  still  more  corrupted  copy  in 
Poesies  populaires  de  la  France,  III,  fol.  143,  '  La 
fausse  morte.'  D.  Fol.  215  of  the  same  volume,  a  very 
pretty  ballad  from  Perigord,  which  has  lost  most  of 
the  characteristic  incidents,  but  not  the  tragic  conclu- 
sion. 

182  b,  first  paragraph.  A  similar  scene,  ending  hap- 
pily, in  I  Complementi  della  Chanson  d'Huon  de  Bor- 
deaux, pubblicati  da  A.  Graf,  pp  26  £f.     (Kohler.) 

183  b,  stanzas  27,  28.     Compare  : 

Modhren  liirde  sonnenn  sinn  : 

'  Skiuter  tu  diur  och  skiuter  tu  rdS  ; 

'  Skiuter  tu  diur  och  skiuter  tu  rfiS, 
Then  salige  hiudenn  latt  tu  gS ! ' 

'  Den    fiirtroUade  Jungfrun,'  Arwidsson,  II,  260,  No 
136,  A  1,  2. 


17.   Hind  Horn. 

P.  187.     F.  Insert  the  title  '  Young  Ilyndhorn.' 

G.  Insert:  Kinloch  MSS,  VII,  117. 

192.  Dr  Davidson  informs  me  that  many  years  ago 
he  heard  a  version  of  '  Hind  Horn,'  in  four-line  stanzas, 
in  which,  as  in  '  Horn  et  Ryraenhild '  and  '  Horn  Childe 
and  Maiden  Riuinild,'  Horn  took  part  in  a  joust  at  the 
king's  court, 

An  young  Hiud  Horn  was  abune  them  a'. 

He  remembers  further  only  these  stanzas  : 

'  O  got  ye  this  o  the  sea  sailin, 

Or  got  ye 't  o  the  Ian  I 
Or  got  ye  't  o  the  bloody  shores  o  Spain, 

On  a  droont  man's  ban? ' 

'  I  got  na  't  o  the  sea  sailin, 

I  got  na  't  o  the  Ian, 
Nor  yet  upo  the  bloody  shores  o  Spain, 

On  a  droont  man's  ban.' 

193  b  (2).  Add  :  '  Herr  Lovmand,'  Kristensen,  I, 
136,  No  52. 

194.  A  corrupt  fragment  of  a  ballad,  'Der  Bottler,' 
in  Schrcier's  Ausflug  nach  Gottschee,  p.  210  f  (Koh- 
ler),  retains  features  like  '  Hind  Horn.'  The  beggar 
comes  to  a  wedding,  and  sits  by  the  stove.  The  bride 
kindly  says.  Nobody  is  thinking  of  the  beggar,  and 
hands  him  a  glass  of  wine.  He  says,  Thanks,  fair 
bride ;  thou  wast  my  first  wife.  Upon  this  the  bride- 
groom jumps  over  the  table,  crying,  Bachelor  I  came, 
and  bachelor  will  go. 


The  Epirots  and  Albanians  have  a  custom  of  betroth- 
ing or  marrying,  commonly  in  early  youth,  and  of  then 
parting  for  a  long  period.  A  woman  was  lately  (1875) 
buried  at  lannina  who,  as  the  archbishop  boasted  in 
the  funeral  discourse,  had  preserved  her  fidelity  to  a 
husband  who  had  been  separated  from  her  thirty  years. 
This  unhappy  usage  has  given  rise  to  a  distinct  class 
of  songs.  Dozon,  Chansons  populaires  bulgares,  p.  294, 
note. 

195  b  (5).  The  German  popular  rhymed  tale  of 
Henry  the  Lion  is  now  known  to  have  been  composed 
by  the  painter  Heinrich  Getting,  Dresden,  1585.  Ger- 
mania,  XXVI,  453,  No  527. 

198  a,  to  first  paragraph.  For  the  marvellous  trans- 
portation in  these  stories,  see  a  note  by  Liebrecht  in 
Jahrbiicber  fiir  rora.  u.  eng.  Literatur,  HI,  147.  In  the 
same,  IV,  110,  Liebrecht  refers  to  the  legend  of  Hugh 
of  Halton,  recounted  by  Dugdale  in  his  Antiquities  of 
Warwickshire,  II,  646,  ed.  of  1730,  and  Monasticon 
Anglicanum,  IV,  90  f,  ed.  1823  (and  perhaps  in  Dug- 
dale's  Baronage  of  England,  but  I  have  not  found  it 
there).  Hugo  is  another  Gerard  :  the  two  half-rings 
miraculously  unite.  (Kohler.)  See,  also,  Landau  on 
Torello,  'Der  Wunderritt,'  Quellen  des  Dekameron 
1884,  pp  193-218. 

198  b,  third  paragraph.  Other  versions  of  '  Le  Re- 
tour  du  Mari  : '  Fleury,  Litterature  Orale  de  la  Basse- 
Normandie,  p.  268  ;  E.  Legrand,  Romania,  X,  374, 
also  from  Normandy. 

A  ballad  of  the  nature  of  '  Le  Retour  du  Mari '  is 
very  popular  in  Poland  :  Kolberg,  No  22,  pp  224  ff, 
some  dozen  copies  ;  Wojcicki,  I,  287  ;  Wojcicki,  II, 
311  =:  Kolberg's  c;  Lipiriski,  p.  159  =  Kolberg's  i; 
Konopka,  p.  121,  No  20  ;  Kozlowski,  No  5,  p.  35, 
p.  36,  two  copies.  In  Moravian,  '  Prvni  milejsi','  'The 
First  Love,'  Suiil,  No  135,  p.  131.  The  general 
course  of  the  story  is  that  a  young  man  has  to  go  to 
the  war  the  day  of  his  wedding  or  the  day  after.  He 
commits  his  bride  to  her  mother,  saying.  Keep  her  for 
me  seven  years ;  and  if  I  do  not  then  come  back,  give 
her  to  whom  you  please.  He  is  gone  seven  years,  and, 
returning  then,  asks  for  his  wife.  She  has  just  been 
given  to  another.  He  asks  for  a  fiddle  [pipe],  and 
says  he  will  go  to  the  wedding.  They  advise  him  to 
stay  away,  for  there  will  be  a  disturbance.  No,  he 
will  only  stand  at  the  door  and  play.  The  bride  jumps 
over  four  tables,  and  makes  a  courtesy  to  him  on  a 
fifth,  welcomes  him  and  dismisses  the  new  bridegroom. 

199  a,  end  of  the  first  paragraph.  I  forgot  to  men- 
tion the  version  of  Costantino,  agreeing  closely  with 
Camarda's,  in  De  Rada,  Rapsodie  d'un  poema  alba- 
nese  raccolte  nelle  colonic  del  Napoletano,  pp  61-64. 

200.  A  maid,  parting  from  her  lover  for  three  years, 
divides  her  ring  with  him.  He  forgets,  and  prepares  to 
marry  another  woman.  She  comes  to  the  nuptials,  and 
is  not  known.  She  throws  the  half  ring  into  a  cup, 
drinks,  and  hands  the  cup  to  him.  He  sees  the  half 
ring,  and  joins  it  to  his  own.  This  is  my  wife,  he 
says.     She  delivered  me  from  death.     He  annuls  his 


ADDITIONS  AND  COKRECTIONS 


503 


marriage,  and  espouses  the  right  woman.  Miklosisch, 
Ueber  die  Mundarten  der  Zigeuner,  IV,  Miirchen  u. 
Lieder,  15th  Tale,  pp  52-55,  at  the  end  of  a  story  of  the 
class  referred  to  at  p.  401  f.     (Kohler.) 

A  personage  appeared  at  Magdeburg  in  1348  in  the 
disguise  of  a  pilgrim,  asked  for  a  cup  of  wine  from  the 
archbishop's  table,  and,  in  drinking,  dropped  into  the 
cup  from  his  mouth  the  seal  ring  of  the  margrave 
Waldemar,  supposed  to  have  been  long  dead,  but  whom 
he  confessed  or  avowed  himself  to  be.  Klciden,  Dip- 
lomatische  Geschichte  des  fiir  falsch  erkliirten  Mark- 
grafen  'W^aldemar,  p.  189  f.     (Kohler.) 

A  wife  who  long  pursues  her  husband,  lost  to  her 
through  spells,  drops  a  ring  into  his  broth  at  the  feast 
for  his  second  marriage,  is  recognized,  and  they  are 
happily  reunited  :  The  Tale  of  the  Hoodie,  Campbell, 
West  Highland  Tales,  I,  63-66. 

In  a  pretty  Portuguese  ballad,  which  has  numerous 
parallels  in  other  languages,  a  long-absent  husband, 
after  tormenting  his  wife  by  telling  her  that  she  is  a 
widow,  legitimates  himself  by  saying.  Where  is  your 
half  of  the  ring  which  we  parted  ?  Here  is  mine:  '  Bella 
Infanta,'  Almeida- Garrett,  II,  11,  14,  Braga,  Cantos  p. 
do  Archipelago  A^oriano,  p.  300  ;  '  Dona  Infanta,' 
'  Dona  Catherina,'  Braga,  Komanceiro  Geral,  pp  3  f ,  7. 

See,  further,  for  ring  stories,  Wesselofsky,  Neue 
Beitriige  zur  Geschichte  der  Salomonsage,  in  Archiv 
fiir  Slavische  Philologie,  VI,  397  f  ;  Hahu,  Neugriech- 
ische  Miirchen,  No  25. 

The  cases  in  which  a  simple  ring  is  the  means  of 
recognition  or  confirmation  need,  of  course,  not  be  mul- 
tiplied. 

200  a,  line  twenty-four.     For  Alesha  read  Alyosha. 

205.  G.  In  Kinloch  MSS,  VII,  117.  After  "  from 
the  recitation  of  my  niece,  M.  Kinnear,  23  August, 
1826,"  is  written  in  pencil  "  Christy  Smith,"  who  may 
have  been  the  person  from  whom  Miss  Kinnear  derived 
the  ballad,  or  another  reciter.  Changes  are  made  in 
pencil,  some  of  which  are  written  over  in  ink,  some 
not.  The  printed  copy,  as  usual  with  Kinloch,  differs 
in  some  slight  respects  from  the  manuscript. 


a.  From  the  recitation  of  Miss  Jane  Webster,  formerly  of 
Airds  of  Kelli,  now  of  Dairy,  both  in  the  Stewartry  of  Kirk- 
cudbright, December  12,  1882.  b.  From  Miss  Jessie  Jane 
Macmath  and  Miss  Agnes  Macmath,  nieces  of  Miss  Web- 
ster, December  11,  1882:  originally  derived  from  an  old 
nurse.    Communicated  by  Mr  Macmath,  of  Edinburgh. 


1  She  gave  him  a  gay  gold  ring, 
Hey  lillelu  and  how  lo  Ian 
But  he  gave  her  a  far  better  thing. 

With  my  hey  down  and  a  hey  diddle  downie 


2  He  gave  her  a  silver  wan, 

With  nine  bright  laverocks  thereupon. 


3  Young  Hynd  Horn  is  come  to  the  Ian, 
There  he  met  a  beggar  man. 

4  '  What  news,  what  news  do  ye  betide  ? ' 

'  Na  news  but  Jeanie  's  the  prince's  bride.' 

5  '  Wilt  thou  give  me  thy  begging  weed  ? 
And  I  '11  give  thee  my  good  grey  steed. 

6  '  Wilt  thou  give  me  thy  auld  grey  hair  ? 
And  I  'U  give  ye  mine  that  is  thrice  as  fair.' 

7  The  beggar  he  got  on  for  to  ride, 

But  young  Hynd  Horn  is  bound  for  the  bride. 

8  First  the  news  came  to  the  ha, 

Then  to  the  room  niang  the  gentles  a'. 

9  '  There  stands  a  beggar  at  our  gate, 
Asking  a  drink  for  young  Hynd  Horn's  sake.' 

10  '  I  'U  ga  through  nine  fires  hot 

To  give  him  a  drmk  for  young  Hynd  Horn's 
sake.' 

11  She  gave  him  the  drink,  and  he  dropt  in  the 

ring ; 
The  lady  turned  baith  pale  an  wan. 

12  '  Oh  got  ye  it  by  sea,  or  got  ye  it  by  Ian  ? 
Or  got  ye  it  off  some  dead  man's  ban  ?  ' 

13  '  I  got  it  not  by  sea,  nor  I  got  it  not  by  Ian, 
But  I  got  it  off  thy  milk-white  han.' 

14  '  I  'U  cast  off  my  dress  of  red. 

And  I  '11  go  with  thee  and  beg  my  bread. 

15  '  I  'n  cast  off  my  dress  of  brown. 
And  foUow  you  from  city  to  town. 

16  '  I  '11  cast  off  my  dress  of  green. 

For  I  am  not  ashamed  with  you  to  be  seen.' 

17  '  You  need  not  cast  off  your  dress  of  red. 

For   I    can   support   thee   on   both  wine   and 
bread. 


504 


ADDITIONS  AND   CORRECTIONS 


18  '  You  need  not  cast  off  your  dress  of  brown, 
For  I  can  keep  you  a  lady  in  any  town. 

19  '  You  need  not  cast  off  your  dress  of  green, 
For  I  can  maintain  you  as  gay  as  a  queen.' 

207  b.     Add  :  F.  !»,  7i,  9',  IS^,  Hyndhorn. 
208.     I.   b.  1-3,  6,  8,  10,  14,  16-19,  toanling. 

Burden  2  :    Wi  my  hey-dey  an  my  hey 
deedle  downie. 

5^.  O  gie  to  me  your  aul  beggar  weed. 

11.  She  gave  him  the  cup,  and  he  dropped 
in  the  ring  : 
O  but  she  turned  pale  an  wan  I 

Between  1 1  and  1 2 : 

O  whaur  got  e  that  gay  gold  ring  ? 


13^.  your  ain  fair  ban. 

15.  O  bring  to  me  my  dress  o  broun. 
An  I  '11  beg  wi  you  frae  toun  tae  toun. 

216  a.  Sir  Orfeo  has  been  lately  edited  by  Dr  Os- 
car Zielke  :  Sir  Orfeo,  ein  englisches  Feenmarchen  aus 
dem  Mittelalter,  mit  Einleitung  und  Anraerlcungen, 
Breslau,  1880. 


20.   The  Cruel  Mother. 

P.  218.  D.  b.  Kinloch  MSS,  VII,  23.  Insert  again 
at  p.  221. 

F.  a.  Also  in  Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  614.  Insert  again 
at  p.  222. 

I.  a.  Also  in  Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  475.  Insert  again 
at  p.  223. 

Add  :  N.  '  The  Loch  o  the  Loanie,'  Campbell  MSS, 
II,  264. 

219  b.  Add  to  the  German  versions  of  'The  Cruel 
Mother : '  M.  Pater  Amand  Baumgarten,  Aus  der 
volksmassigen  Ueberlieferung  der  Heimat :  IX,  Geburt, 
Heirat,  Tod,  mit  einera  Anhang  von  Liedern,  p.  140. 
['  Das  ausgesetzte  Kind.']  N.  A.  Schlosser,  Deutsche 
Volkslieder  aus  Steiermark,  p.  336,  No  306,  '  Der  alte 
Halter  und  das  Kind  '  (not  yet  seen  by  me).    (Kohler.) 

220  a.  A  ballad  of  Slavic  origin  in  Nesselmann's 
Littauische  Volkslieder,  No  380,  p.  322,  resembles  the 
German  and  Wendish  versions  of  '  The  Cruel  Mother,' 
with  a  touch  of  '  The  Maid  and  the  Palmer.'  (G.  L. 
Kittredge.) 

220  b,  line  7.     Head  :  Ilausschatz. 


225. 

N     ^^ 

Campbell  MSS,  II,  264. 

1  As  I  lookit  oer  my  father's  castle  wa, 

All  alone  and  alone  0 
I  saw  two  pretty  babes  playing  at  the  ba. 
Down  by  yon  green-wood  sidie 

2  '  0  pretty  babes,  gin  ye  were  mine,' 

Hey  the  loch  o  the  Loanie 
'  I  w  ould  dead  ye  o  the  silk  sae  fine.' 
Down  by  that  green-wood  sidie 

3  '  0  sweet  darlings,  gin  ye  were  mine,' 

Hey  the  loch  o  the  Loanie 
'  I  would  feed  ye  on  the  morning's  milk.' 
Down  by  that  green-wood  sidie 

4  '  O  mither  dear,  when  we  were  thine,' 

By  the  loch  o  the  Loanie 
'  Ye  neither  dressd  us  wi  sUk  nor  twine.' 
Down  by  this  green-wood  sidie 

5  '  But  ye  tuke  out  your  little  pen-knife,' 

By,  etc. 
'  And  there  ye  tuke  yer  little  babes'  life.' 
Down  by  the,  etc. 

6  '  O  mither  dear,  when  this  ye  had  done,' 

Alone  by,  etc. 
'  Ye  unkirtled  yersel,  and  ye  wrapt  us  in  't.' 
Down  by  the,  etc. 

7  '  Neist  ye  houkit  a  hole  foment  the  seen,' 

All  alone  and  alone  0 
'  And  tearless  ye  stappit  your  little  babes  in  ' 
Down  by  the,  etc. 

8  '  But  we  are  in  the  heavens  high,' 

And  far  frae  the  loch  o  the  Loanie 
'But  ye  hae  the  pains  o  hell  to  d[r]ie.' 
Before  ye  leave  the  green-wood  sidie 

226  a.  C.  Cunningham,  as  Mr  Macmath  has  re- 
minded me,  has  made  this  stanza  a  part  of  another  bal- 
lad, in  Cromek's  Remains,  p.  223. 

231.  Catalan.  The  Romancerillo  Catalan,  in  the 
new  edition,  p.  10,  No  12,  'Magdalena,'  gives  another 
version,  with  the  variations  of  eight  more  copies,  that  of 
the  Observaciones  being  now  C. 

232.  Add  :  Italian.  Ive,  Canti  popolari  istriani,  p. 
366,  No  14,  'S.  Maria  Maddalena.'  Mary's  father, 
dying,  left  her  a  castle  of  gold  and  silver,  from  which 


ADDITIONS   AND  CORRECTIONS 


505 


one  day  she  saw  Jesus  pass.  She  wept  a  fountain  of 
tears  to  wash  his  feet,  and  dried  his  feet  with  her 
tresses.  Then  she  asked  for  a  penance.  She  wished 
to  go  into  a  cave  without  door  or  windows,  sleep  on  the 
bare  ground,  eat  raw  herbs,  and  drink  a  little  salt  water; 
and  this  she  did.  In  '  La  Maddalena,'  Guerrini,  AI- 
cuni  C.  p.  romagnoli,  p.  7,  there  is  no  penance. 


22.    St  Stephen  and  Herod. 

P.  236  a.  Spanish.  Jlild's  new  edition,  Romance- 
rillo  Catalan,  No  31,  '  El  romero  acusado  de  robo,' 
pp  36-38,  adds  six  copies,  not  differing  in  anything 
important.  In  C,  the  youth,  un  estudiant,  n'era  ros 
com  un  fil  d'or,  blanch  com  Santa  Catarina. 

I  may  note  that  Thomas  Becket  stands  by  his  vo- 
taries when  brought  to  the  gallows  as  effectually  as  St 
James.  See  Robertson,  Materials,  etc.,  I,  369,  471,  515, 
524. 

238.  Note  %  should  have  been  credited  to  R.  Koh- 
ler. 

238  b,  second  paragraph.  Professor  George  Stephens 
informs  me  that  the  miracle  of  the  cock  is  depicted, 
among  scenes  from  the  life  of  Jesus,  on  an  antependium 
of  an  altar,  derived  from  an  old  church  in  Slesvig,  and 
now  in  the  Danish  Museum.  Behind  a  large  table  sits 
a  crowned  woman,  and  at  her  left  stands  a  crowned 
man,  who  points  to  a  dish  from  which  a  cock  has 
started  up,  with  beak  wide  open.  At  the  queen's  right 
stands  an  old  woman,  simply  clad  and  leaning  on  a 
staff.  This  picture  comes  between  the  Magi  announc- 
ing Christ's  Birth  and  the  Massacre  of  the  Innocents, 
and  the  crowned  figures  are  judged  by  Professor  Ste- 
phens to  be  Herod  and  Herodias.  Who  the  old  woman 
should  be  it  is  not  easy  to  say,  but  there  can  be  no  con- 
nection with  St  James.  The  work  is  assigned  to  the 
last  part  of  the  fourteenth  century. 

239.  Most  of  the  literature  on  the  topic  of  the  res- 
toration of  the  roasted  cock  to  life  is  collected  by  Dr 
R.  Kohler  and  by  Ferdinand  Wolf,  in  Jahrbiicher  fiir 
romanische  u.  englische  Literatur,  III,  58ff,  67f.  Dr 
Kohler  now  adds  these  notes  :  The  miracle  of  St  James, 
in  Hermann  von  Fritslar's  Heiligenleben,  Pfeiffer's 
Deutsche  Mystiker  des  vierzehnten  Jahrhunderts,  I, 
168  f  ;  Hahn,  Das  alte  Passional  (from  the  Golden  Le- 
gend), p.  223,  v.  47-p.  225,  v.  85  ;  Liitolf,  Sagen,  Briiuche 
und  Legenden  aus  Lucern,  u.  s.  w.,  p.  367,  No  334  ; 
von  Alpenburg,  Deutsche  Alpensagen,  p.  137,  No  135; 
Sepp,  Altbayerischer  Sagenschatz,  pp  652  ff,  656  f. 

239  b.  Three  stone  partridges  on  a  buttress  of  a  church 
at  Miihlhausen  are  thus  accounted  for.  In  the  early 
days  of  the  Reformation  a  couple  of  orthodo.x  divines, 
while  waiting  dinner,  were  discussing  the  prospect  of  the 
infection  spreading  to  their  good  city.  One  of  them, 
growing  warm,  declared  that  there  was  as  much  chance 
of  that  as  of  the  three  partridges  that  were  roasting  in 
the  kitchen  taking  flight  from  the  spit.  Immediately 
there  was  heard  a  fluttering  and  a  cooing  in  the  region 

64 


of  the  kitchen,  the  three  birds  winged  their  way  from 
the  house,  and,  lighting  on  the  buttress  of  Mary  Kirk, 
were  instantly  turned  to  stone,  and  there  they  are. 
Thiiringen  und  der  Harz,  mit  ihren  Merkwiirdigkei- 
ten,  u.  8.  w.,  VI,  20  f.    (Kohler.) 

240  a.  The  monk  Andrius  has  the  scene  between 
Judas  and  his  mother  as  in  Cursor  Mundi,  and  attrib- 
utes to  Greek  writers  the  opinion  that  the  roasted  cock 
was  the  same  that  caused  Peter's  compunction.  Mus- 
safia,  Sulla  legenda  del  legno  della  Croce,  Sitz.  Ber. 
der  phil.-hist.  Classe  der  Wiener  Akad.,  LXIII,  206, 
note.    (Kohler.) 

"  About  the  year  1850  I  was  on  a  visit  to  the  rector 
of  Kilmeen,  near  Clonakilty,  in  the  county  of  Cork. 
My  friend  brought  me  to  visit  the  ruins  of  an  old  cas- 
tle. Over  the  open  fireplace  in  the  great  hall  there 
was  a  stone,  about  two  or  three  feet  square,  carved 
in  the  rudest  fashion,  and  evidently  representing  our 
Lord's  sufferings.  There  were  the  cross,  the  nails,  the 
hammer,  the  scourge  ;  but  there  was  one  piece  of 
sculpture  which  I  could  not  understand.  It  was  a  sort 
of  rude  semi-circle,  the  curve  below  and  the  diameter 
above,  and  at  the  junction  a  figure  intended  to  repre- 
sent a  bird.  My  friend  asked  me  what  it  meant.  I 
confessed  my  ignorance.  '  That,'  said  he,  '  is  the 
cock.  The  servants  were  boiling  him  for  supper,  but 
when  the  moment  came  to  convict  the  apostle  he 
started  up,  perched  on  the  side  of  the  pot,  and  aston- 
ished the  assembly  by  his  salutiition  of  the  morning.'  " 
Notes  and  Queries,  5th  series,  IX,  412  a.     (Kohler.) 

A  heathen  in  West  Gothland  (Vestrogothia)  had 
killed  his  herdsman,  Torsten,  a  Christian,  and  was  re- 
proached for  it  by  Torsten's  wife.  Pointing  to  an  ox 
that  had  been  slaughtered,  the  heathen  answered:  Tarn 
Torstenum  tuum,  quem  sanctum  et  in  coelis  vivere  ex- 
istimas,  plane  ita  vivum  credo  prout  hunc  bovem  quem 
in  frusta  caedendum  conspicis.  Mirum  dictu,  vix  verba 
finiverat,  cum  e  vestigio  bos  in  pedes  se  erexit  vivus, 
stupore  omnibus  qui  adstabant  attonitis.  Quare  sacel- 
lum  in  loco  eodem  erectum,  multaque  miracula,  praeser- 
tim  in  pccorum  curatione,  patrata.  loannis  Vastovii 
Vitis  Aquilonia,  sive  Vitae  Sanctorum  regni  Sveo-goth- 
ici,  emend,  et  illustr.  Er.  Benzelius  filius,  Upsaliae, 
1708,  p.  59.     (Kohler.) 

240  b.  Man  begegnet  auf  alten  Holzschnitten  einer 
Abbildiing  von  Christi  Geburt,  welche  durch  die  dabei 
stehenden  Thiere  erklart  werden  soil.  Der  Hahn 
auf  der  Stange  krahet  da:  Christus  natus  est!  der 
Ochse  briillt  mit  iiberschnappender  Stimme  drein  : 
Ubi  ?  und  das  Lammlein  bliiheret  die  Antwort :  Bethle- 
hem! Roehholz,  Alemannisches  Kinderlied  und  Kin- 
derspiel  aus  der  Schweiz,  p.  69  t.    (Kohler.) 

241  a.  Wer  sind  die  ersten  Vorbothen  GottesV  Der 
Hahn,  well  er  kraht,  "  Christ  ist  geboren."  Der  Tau- 
ber,  weil  er  ruft,  "  Wo  ?  "  Und  der  Ziegenbock,  weil  er 
schreit,  "  Z'  Bethlehem."  Pater  Amand  Baumgarten, 
Aus  der  volksmassigen  Ueberlieferung  der  Heimat, 
I,  Zur  volksthiimlichen  Naturkunde,  p.  94.     (Kohler.) 

Hahn  :  Kikeriki !  Gott  der  Herr  lebt  1 


506 


ADDITIONS   AND  CORRECTIONS 


Ochs:  Wo?  Wo? 

Geiss  :  Miih  !  zu  Bethlehem  I 

Simrock,  Das  deutsche  Kinderbuch,  2d  ed.,  p.  173, 
No  719  ;  3d  ed.,  p.  192,  No  787.     (Kohler.) 

Quando  Christo  nasceu  disse  o  gallo  :  Jesus-Christo 
e  nd  ...  a  ...  d  ...  do  (niido).  J.  Leite  de  Vas- 
concellos,  Tradi96es  populares  do  Portugal,  p.  148,  No 
285  6. 

242.  Note.  Add  :  W.  Creizenach,  Judas  Ischarioth 
in  Legende  und  Sage  des  Mittelalters,  in  Paul  and 
Braune's  Beitrage,  II,  177  S. 


25.   "Willie's  Lyke-Wake. 

P.  247  b.  Add  :  E.  '  Willie's  Lyke-Wake.'  a.  Bu- 
chan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  II,  51.  b. 
Christie,  Traditional  Ballad  Airs,  I,  122. 

249  b.  Swedish.  Add:  D.  Aminson,  Bidrag  till 
Scidermanlands  Kulturhistoria,  li,  18. 

French.  '  Le  Soldat  au  Convent,'  Victor  Smith, 
Vielles  Chansons  recueillies  en  Velay  et  en  Forez,  p. 
24,  No  21,  or  Romania,  VII,  73  ;  Fleury,  Litt^rature 
Orale  de  la  Basse  Normandie,  p.  310,  '  La  Religieuse  ;' 
Poesies  populaires  de  la  France,  III,  fol.  289,  fol.  297. 
A  soldier  who  has  been  absent  some  years  in  the  wars 
returns  to  find  his  mistress  in  a  convent;  obtains  per- 
mission to  see  her  for  a  last  time,  puts  a  ring  on  her 
finger,  and  then  "falls  dead."  Plis  love  insists  on  con- 
ducting his  funeral  ;  the  lover  returns  to  life  and  car- 
ries her  off. 

249  b.  A.  Magyar.  The  ballad  of  '  Handsome 
Tony  '  is  also  translated  by  G.  Heinrich,  in  Ungarische 
Kevue,  1883,  p.  155. 

The  same  story,  perverted  to  tragedy  at  the  end,  in 
Golovatsky,  II,  710,  No  13,  a  ballad  of  the  Carpa- 
thian Russians  in  Hungary. 

250.  Dr  11.  Kohler  points  out  to  me  a  German  copy 
of  A,  B,  C,  which  I  had  overlooked,  in  Schriier,  Ein 
Ausflug  nach  Gottschee,  p.  266  if,  '  Hansel  junc'  The 
mother  builds  a  mill  and  a  church,  and  then  the  younc 
man  feigns  death,  as  before.  But  a  very  cheap  tragic 
turn  is  given  to  the  conclusion  when  the  young  man 
springs  up  and  kisses  his  love.  She  falls  dead  with 
fright,  and  he  declares  that  since  she  has  died  for  him 
he  will  die  for  her.  So  they  are  buried  severally  at 
one  and  the  other  side  of  the  church,  and  two  lily 
stocks  are  planted,  which  embrace  "  like  two  real  mar- 
ried people  ;  "  or,  a  vine  grows  from  one  and  a  flower 
from  the  other. 

252.    This  is  the  other  form  referred  to  at  p.  247  a. 


E 


a.  Buchan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  II,  51. 
Christie,  Traditional  Ballad  Airs,  I,  122. 

1  '  If  my  love  loves  me,  she  lets  me  not  know, 
That  is  a  dowie  chance ; 


I  vrish  that  I  the  same  could  do, 

Tho  my  love  were  in  France,  France, 
Tho  my  love  were  in  France. 

2  '  O  lang  think  I,  and  very  lang, 

And  lang  think  I,  I  true  ; 
But  lang  and  langer  will  I  think 
Or  my  love  o  me  rue. 

3  '  I  will  write  a  broad  letter. 

And  write  it  sae  perfite, 
That  an  she  winna  o  me  rue, 
I  '11  bid  her  come  to  my  lyke.' 

4  Then  he  has  written  a  broad  letter, 

And  seald  it  wi  his  hand. 

And  sent  it  on  to  his  true  love. 

As  fast  as  boy  could  gang. 

5  Wlien  she  looked  the  letter  upon, 

A  light  laugh  then  gae  she ; 
But  ere  she  read  it  to  an  end. 
The  tear  blinded  her  ee. 

6  '  O  saddle  to  me  a  steed,  father, 

O  saddle  to  me  a  steed ; 
For  word  is  come  to  me  this  night, 
That  my  true  love  is  dead.' 

7  '  The  steeds  are  in  the  stable,  daughter. 

The  keys  are  casten  by ; 
Ye  cannot  won  to-night,  daughter. 
To-morrow  ye  'se  won  away.' 

8  She  has  cut  aff  her  yellow  locks, 

A  little  aboon  her  ee. 
And  she  is  on  to  Willie's  lyke, 
As  fast  as  gang  could  she. 

9  As  she  gaed  ower  yon  high  bill  head, 

She  saw  a  dowie  light ; 
It  was  the  candles  at  Willie's  lyke. 
And  torches  burning  bright. 

10  Three  o  Willie's  eldest  brothers 

Were  making  for  him  a  bier  ; 
One  half  o  it  was  gude  red  gowd, 
The  other  siller  clear. 

11  Three  o  Willie's  eldest  sisters 

Were  making  for  liim  a  sark  ; 
The  one  half  o  it  was  cambric  fine, 
The  other  needle  wark. 


ADDITIONS  AND   CORRECTIONS 


507 


12  Out  spake  the  youngest  o  his  sisters, 

As  she  stood  on  the  fleer : 
How  happy  would  our  brother  been, 
If  ye  'd  been  sooner  here  ! 

13  She  lifted  up  the  green  covering, 

And  gae  him  kisses  three  ; 

Then  he  lookd  up  into  her  face. 

The  blythe  blink  in  his  ee. 

14  O  then  he  started  to  his  feet, 

And  thus  to  her  said  he : 
Fair  Annie,  since  we  're  met  again, 
Parted  nae  mair  we  'se  be. 


"  Given  with  some  changes  from  the  way  the 

editor  has  heard  it  sung." 
2".  I  trow.     31.  But  I.     3«.  That  gin. 
7'.  the  night. 


39.   Tarn  Lin. 

P.  335.  Add  :  J.  '  Young  Tamlane,'  Kinloch  MSS, 
V,  391. 

335  a.  The  stanzas  introduced  into  I  a  were  from 
"Mr  Beattie  of  Meikledale's  Tamlane,"  as  appears 
from  a  letter  of  Scott  to  Laidlaw,  January  21,  1803. 
(W.  Macmath.^ 

336  b,  third  paragraph.  Add  :  Aminson,  Bidrag, 
etc.,  IV,  6,  No  27. 

Fourth  paragraph,  line  9.     Read  :  in  it  which. 

338  a.  An  old  woman  is  rejuvenated  by  being  burnt 
to  bones,  and  the  bones  being  thrown  into  a  tub  of 
milk  :  llalston,  Russian  Folk-Tales,  p.  59,  '  The  Smith 
and  the  Demon;'  Afanasief,  Legendui,  No  31,  from 
Dahl's  manuscript  collection. 

356.  The  following  is  perhaps  the  version  referred 
to  by  Dr  Joseph  Robertson  :  see  p.  335. 


28.   Burd  Ellen  and  Young  Tamlane. 

P.  256.  This  ballad  is  in  Pitcairn's  MSS,  III,  49. 
It  was  from  the  tradition  of  Mrs  Gammel.  The  last 
word  of  the  burden  is  Machey,  not  May-hay,  as  in 
Maidment. 


"  A  fragment  of  Young  Tamlane,"  Kinloch  MSS,  V,  391. 
In  Dr  John  Hill  Burton's  handwriting,  and  perhaps  from 
the  recitation  of  Mrs  Robertson  (Christian  Leslie),  mother 
of  Dr  Joseph  Robertson. 


29.   The  Boy  and  the  Mantle. 

P.  270  b.  If  a  girl  takes  a  pot  of  boiling  water  off 
the  fire,  and  the  pot  ceases  to  boil,  this  is  a  sign  of  lost 
modesty.  Lammert,  Volksmedizin  und  medizinischer 
Aberglaube  in  Bayern,  u.  s.  w.,  p.  146. 


30.   King  Arthur  and  King  Cornwall. 

P.  27^.  A  Galien  in  verse  has  been  found  in  the 
library  of  Sir  Thomas  Fnillipps,  at  Cheltenham.  Ro- 
mania, XII,  5. 


31.   The  Marriage  of  Sir  Gawain. 

P.  292  b,  last  paragraph  but  one.  Add  :  '  Gorviimb,' 
Arnason,  II,  375,  Powell,  Icelandic  Legends,  Second 
Series,  366,  '  The  Paunch.'  Gorvonib,  a  monstrous 
creature,  in  reward  for  great  services,  asks  to  liave  the 
king's  brother  for  husband,  and  in  bed  turns  into  a 
beautiful  princess.  She  had  been  suffering  under  the 
spells  of  a  step-mother. 


1  '  The  night,  the  night  is  Halloween, 
Tomorrow 's  HaUowday, 


2  '  The  night,  the  night  is  Halloween, 
Our  seely  court  maun  ride, 
Thro  England  and  thro  Ireland  both. 
And  a'  the  warld  wide. 


3  '  The  firsten  court  that  comes  ye  bye. 

You  'U  lout,  and  let  them  gae  ; 
The  seconden  court  that  comes  you  bye, 
You  'U  had  them  reverently. 

4  '  The  thirden  court  that  comes  you  by, 

Sae  we  el 's  ye  will  me  ken, 
For  some  will  be  on  a  black,  a  black. 

And  some  wiU  be  on  a  brown. 
But  I  will  be  on  a  bluid-red  steed. 

And  will  ride  neist  the  queen. 


508 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


5  '  The  thirden  court  that  comes  you  bye, 

Sae  weel  's  ye  will  me  ken, 

For  I  '11  be  on  a  bluid-red  steed, 

Wi  three  stars  on  his  crown. 

6  '  Ye  '11  tak  the  horse  head  in  yer  hand, 

And  grip  the  bridle  fast ; 
The  Queen  o  Elfin  will  gie  a  cry, 
"  True  Tamas  is  stown  awa  !  " 

7  '  And  I  will  grow  in  your  twa  hands 

An  adder  and  an  eel ; 
But  the  grip  ye  get  ye  '11  hold  it  fast, 
I  '11  be  father  to  yer  chiel. 

8  '  I  will  wax  in  your  twa  hans 

As  hot  as  any  coal ; 
But  if  you  love  me  as  you  say, 
You  '11  think  of  me  and  thole. 

9  '  0  I  will  grow  in  your  twa  hands 

An  adder  and  a  snake  ; 
The  grip  ye  get  now  hold  it  fast, 
And  I  'U  be  your  world's  mait. 

10  '  0  I  '11  gae  in  at  your  gown  sleeve, 

And  out  at  your  gown  hem, 
And  I  'U  stand  up  before  thee  then 
A  freely  naked  man. 

11  '  O  I  '11  gae  in  at  your  gown  sleeve, 

And  out  at  your  gown  hem, 

And  I  '11  stand  before  you  then, 

But  claithing  I  '11  hae  nane. 

12  '  Ye  '11  do  you  down  to  Garden's  Ha, 

And  down  to  Garden's  stream. 
And  there  you  '11  see  our  seely  court. 
As  they  come  riding  hame.' 


13 


'  It 's  nae  wonder,  my  daughter  Janet, 
True  Tammas  ye  thought  on  ; 

An  he  were  a  woman  as  he  's  a  man. 
My  bedfellow  he  should  be.' 


1  The  night,  the  night  is  Halloween, 

Tomorrow 's    Hallowday,    our   seely   court 
maun  ride. 
Thro  England  and  thro  Ireland  both, 
And  a'  the  warld  wide. 

Cf.  A  25,  26 ;  D  16  ;  G  30 ;  I  33,  34. 
8*.  think  and  of  me  thole. 


41.    Hind  Btin. 

P.  363,  note.  Compare,  for  style,  the  beginning  of 
'  Hind  Horn '  G,  H,  pp  205,  206. 

43.   The  Broomfleld  Hill. 

P.  393  a,  first  paragraph.  In  Gongu-R(51vs  kvasSi, 
Hammershaimb,  Fieroiske  Kvseder,  No  16,  p.  140,  sts 
99-105,  Liudin  remains  a  maid  for  two  nights,  and 
loses  the  name  the  third,  but  the  sleep-rune  or  thorn 
which  should  explain  this  does  not  occur. 

393  b,  third  paragraph.  Add  :  '  Kurz  gefasst,'  Al- 
fred Miiller,  Volkslieder  aus  dem  Erzgebirge,  p.  90. 

45.  King  John  and  the  Bishop. 

P.  410.  Translated  after  Percy's  Reliques  also  by 
von  Marees,  p.  7,  No  2. 

503  a,  fifth  paragraph  (ring  stories).  Add  :  W.  Frei- 
herr  von  Tettau,  Ueber  einige  bis  jetzt  unbekannte 
Erfurter  Drucke,  u.  s.  w.,  Jahrbiicher  der  koniglichen 
Akademie  zu  Erfurt,  Neue  Folge,  Heft  VI,  S.  291,  at 
the  end  of  an  excellent  article  on  Ritter  Morgeners 
Wallfahrt.     (Kijhler.) 


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