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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 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/englishscottishp51chilrich 


THE  ENGLISH  AND  SCOTTISH 
POPULAE  BALLADS 


THE 

ENGLISH  AND  SCOTTISH 

POPULAR  BALLADS 

EDITED  BY 

FEANCIS  JAMES  CHILD 


IN    FIVE    VOLUMES 

VOLUME  V 

PART  I 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND   COMPANY 

XB\)t  KiberflftUe  ^presfflf,  Cambriuge 

LONDON :  HENRY  STEVENS,  SON  AND  STILES 


One  ^toujff'anti  €tspk^  printed 
No. ^^ 


COPYRIGHT,  1894,  BY  F.  J.  CHILD 
ALL  RIQHTS  RESERVED 


ADVERTISEMENT  TO  PART  IX 

NUMBERS  266-305 


The  delay  of  the  publication  of  this  Ninth  Part  of  the  English  and  Scottish  Ballads 
has  been  occasioned  partly  by  disturbances  of  health,  but  principally  by  the  necessity  of 
waiting  for  texts.  It  was  notorious  that  there  was  a  considerable  number  of  ballads  among 
the  papers  of  Charles  Kirkpatrick  Sharpe,  and  it  was  an  important  object  to  get  possession 
of  these,  the  only  one  of  the  older  collections  (with  a  slight  exception)  which  I  had  not  had 
in  my  hands.  An  unexpected  opportunity  occurred  upon  the  sale  of  Sharpe's  manuscripts 
last  year.  All  the  ballads,  including,  besides  loose  sheets,  several  sets  of  pieces,  were  secured 
by  Mr  Macmath,  and  turned  over  to  me  (mostly  in  transcripts  made  by  his  own  hand)  with 
that  entire  devotion  to  the  interests  of  this  undertaking  which  I  have  had  so  frequent  occa- 
sion to  signalize.  A  particularly  valuable  acquisition  was  the  "  old  lady's  complete  set  of 
ballads,"  mentioned  by  Scott  in  his  correspondence  with  Sharpe,  which  was  the  original  of 
most  of  the  pieces  in  the  Skene  MS. 

This  Ninth  Part  completes  the  collection  of  English  and  Scottish  ballads  to  the  extent  a\  Jt  ^ 
of  my  knowledge  of  sources,  saving  that  William  Tytler's  Brown  -  MS.  has  not  been  ^  j-.  ^aL 
recovered.     Copies,  from  Mrs  Brown's  recitation,  of  all  the  pieces  in  this  MS.  are,  however,  ^^ 

elsewhere  to  be  found,  excepting  in  a  single  instance,  and  that  of  a  ballad  which  is  probS,bly 
a  variety  of  one  or  another  here  given  in  several  forms  (No  99  or  No  158). 

I  have  to  thank  Mr  Macmath  once  more  for  his  energetic  and  untiring  co-operation ; 
the  Rev.  William  Findlay,  of  Sabine,  for  permission  to  make  use  of  his  ballad-gatherings ; 
the  Rev.  S.  Baeing-Gould,  Mr  P.  Z.  Round,  Mr  William  Walker,  and  Mr  R.  Brlnley 
Johnson,  for  texts;  Professor  Wollner,  of  Leipzig,  for  the  most  liberal  assistance  in 
Slavic  matters ;  Mr  Kaarle  Krohn,  of  the  University  of  Helsingfors,  for  a  minute  and 
comprehensive  study  of  the  Esthonian  and  Finnish  forms  of  No  95 ;  Dr  Axel  Olrik  for 
Scandinavian  texts  and  information  relating  thereto ;  Professor  Kittredge  for  notes ;  and 
Mr  R.  B.  Armstrong,  of  Edinburgh,  Dr  Ake  W:son  Munthe,  of  Upsala,  Miss  M.  H. 
Mason,  of  London,  Mr  Alfred  Rogers,  of  the  Library  of  the  University  of  Cambridge, 
Mr  H.  L.  KooPMAN,  late  of  Harvard  College,  and  Mrs  Maria  Ellery  MacKaye,  for  kind 
help  of  various  descriptions. 

It  is  intended  that  Part  X  (completing  the  work)  shall  contain  a  list  of  sources,  a  full 
and  careful  glossary,  an  index  of  titles  and  matters  and  other  indexes,  and  a  general  preface.  /v  3  . 

F.  J.  C. 

Afbil,  1894. 


ADVERTISEMENT  TO  PART  X 


For  texts,  information,  or  correction  of  errors,  I  have  the  pleasure  of  expressing  my 
indebtedness  to  the  following  gentlemen  in  Europe :  Mr  Andeew  Lang  ;  Mr  J.  K.  Hud- 
son of  Manchester;  Professsor  J.  Estlin  Cakpenter  of  Oxford;  Messrs  W.  Macmath 
and  David  MacRitchie  of  Edinburgh ;  Mr  W.  Walker  of  Aberdeen ;  Dr  Axel  Olrik 
of  Copenhagen ;  and  in  America  to  the  following  ladies  and  gentlemen :  Miss  Mary  C. 
Burleigh  of  Massachusetts ;  Miss  Louise  Porter  Haskell  of  South  Carolina ;  Professor 
KiTTREDGE,  Dr  W.  H.  ScHOFiELD,  Dr  W.  P.  Few  and  Mr  E.  E.  Griffith  of  Harvard  Col- 
lege ;  Professor  W.  U.  Richardson  of  the  Harvard  Medical  School ;  Dr  F.  A.  Morrison 
of  Indiana,  and  Mr  W.  W.  Newell,  editor  of  the  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore.  The 
services  of  Mr  Leo  Wiener  of  Harvard  College  have  been  at  my  full  command  in  Slavic 
matters,  and  had  time  been  at  my  disposal  would  have  been  employed  for  a  much  wider 
examination  of  the  very  numerous  collections  of  Slavic  popular  songs.  Mr  G.  F.  Arnold, 
late  of  Harvard  College  Library,  obligingly  undertook  the  general  bibliographical  index  at 
the  end  of  this  volume ;  but  the  labor  proving  too  great  for  his  delicate  health,  this  index 
was  completed  by  my  friend  Miss  Catharine  Innes  Ireland,  who  besides  has  generously 
devoted  a  great  deal  of  time  to  the  compilation  or  correction  of  all  the  other  indexes  and 
the  preparation  of  them  for  the  press.  Still  further  favors  are  acknowledged  elsewhere. 
In  conclusion  I  would  recognize  with  thanks  and  admiration  the  patience,  liberality  and 
consideration  shown  me  by  my  publishers  from  beginning  to  end. 

E*.  J.  C. 

[The  manuscript  of  this  Tenth  and  final  Part  of  the  English  and  Scottish  Ballads 
(including  the  Advertisement),  was  left  by  Professor  Child  substantially  complete,  with  the 
exception  of  the  Bibliography,  and  nearly  ready  for  the  press.  The  Bibliography,  which 
Miss  Ireland  had  in  hand  at  the  time  of  Professor  Child's  death,  has  been  completed  by 
her,  with  some  assistance.  In  accordance  with  Professor  Child's  desire,  and  at  the  request 
of  his  family,  I  have  seen  the  present  Part  through  the  press.  My  own  notes,  except  in  the 
Indexes  and  Bibliography,  are  enclosed  within  brackets,  and  have  been  confined,  in  the  main, 
to  entries  in  the  Additions  and  Corrections.  Acknowledgments  are  due  to  Mr  Macmath, 
Professor  Lanman,  and  Dr  F.  N.  Robinson  for  various  contributions,  and  to  Mr  W.  R. 
Spalding  for  reading  the  proof-sheets  of  the  music.  Mr  Leo  Wiener,  Instructor  in  Slavic 
Languages  in  Harvard  University,  has  had  the  great  kindness  to  revise  the  Slavic  titles  in  the 
List  of  Ballads,  the  List  of  Collections  of  Ballads,  and  the  Bibliography.  To  Miss  Ireland 
I  am  especially  indebted  for  material  assistance  of  various  kinds,  especially  in  the  proof- 
reading. 

G.  L.  K.] 

Janitaet,  1898. 


CONTENTS  OF  VOLUME  V 


BALLAD  PAffli 

266.  John  Thomson  and  the  Tukk 1 

(Additions  and  Corrections :  V,  279.) 

267.  The  Heir  op  Linne 11 

268.  The  Twa  Knights 21 

269.  Lady  Diamond 29 

(Additions  and  Corrections  :  V,  303.) 

270.  The  Earl  op  Mar's  Daughter 38 

271.  The  Lord  op  Lorn  and  the  False  Steward 42 

(Additions  and  Corrections :  V,  280.) 

272.  The  Suffolk  Miracle 68 

(Additions  and  Corrections :  V,  303.) 

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

(Additions  and  Corrections  :  V,  303.) 

274.  Our  Goodman 88 

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

276.  Get  up  and  bar  the  Door 96 

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

276.  The  Friar  in  the  Well 100 

277.  The  Wipe  Wrapt  in  Wether's  Skin 104 

(Additions  and 'Corrections:  V,  304.) 

278.  The  Farmer's  Curst  Wipe 107 

(Additions  and  Corrections :  Y,  305.) 

279.  The  Jolly  Beggar 109 

280.  The  Beggar-Laddie 116 

(Additions  and  Corrections :  V,  305.) 

281.  The  Keach  i  the  Creel 121 

282.  Jock  the  Leg  and  the  Merry  Merchant  .........  126 

283.  The  Crafty  Farmer 128 

284.  John  Dory 131 

285.  The  George  Aloe  and  the  Sweepstake 133 

286.  The  Sweet  Trinity  (The  Golden  Vanity) 136 

(Additions  and  Corrections  :  V,  305.) 

287.  Captain  Ward  and  the  Rainbow 143 

(Additions  and  Corrections  :  V,  .305.) 

288.  The  Young  Earl  op  Essex's  Victory  over  the  Emperor  of  Germany    .        .        .  145 

289.  The  Mermaid 148 

290.  The  Wylle  Wife  op  the  Hie  Toun  Hie 163 

291.  Child  Owlet 166 

(Additions  and  Corrections  :  V,  305.) 


Vm  CONTENTS  OF  VOLUME  V 

292.  The  West-Country  Damosel's  Complaint    . 157 

293.  John  of  Hazelgreen •        .        .        .        .  159 

294.  DuGALL  QuiN 165 

(Additions  and  Corrections :  V,  305.) 

295.  The  Brown  Girl 166 

296.  Walter  Lesly 168 

297.  Earl  Rothes 170 

298.  Young  Peggy 171 

299.  Trooper  and  Maid 172 

(Additions  and  Corrections:  V,  306.) 

300.  Blancheflour  and  Jellyflorice 176 

301.  The  Queen  of  Scotland •        .  176 

302.  Young  Bearwell 178 

303.  The  Holy  Nunnery 179 

304.  Young  Ronald 181 

305.  The  Outlaw  Murray 186 

(Additions  and  Corrections  :  V,  307.) 

Fragments 201 

(Additions  and  Corrections :  V,  307.) 

Additions  and  Corrections 205, 283 

Glossary 309 

Sources  of  the  Texts 397 

Index  of  Published  Airs 406 

Ballad  Airs  from  Manuscript: 

3.   The  Pause  Knight  upon  the  Road 411 

9.   The  Fair  Flower  of  Northumberland 411 

10.  The  Twa  Sisters 411 

11.  The  Cruel  Brother *      ...  412 

12.  Lord  Randal 412 

17.    Hind  Horn 413 

20.   The  Cruel  Mother 413 

40.   The  Queen  of  Elfan's  Nourice 413 

42.    Clerk  ColviU 414 

46.  Captain  Wedderburn's  Courtship 414 

47.  Proud  Lady  Margaret 414 

53.    Young  Beichan     ..............  415 

58.    Sir  Patrick  Spens 415 

61.    Sir  Colin 415 

63.   Child  Waters 415 

68.    Young  Hunting 416 

75.   LordLovel 416 

77.    Sweet  William's  Ghost 416 

84.    Bonny  Barbara  Allan        ............  416 

89.   Pause  Foodrage 416 

95.   The  Maid  freed  from  the  Gallows 417 

97.  Brown  Robin 417 

98.  Brown  Adam    ..............  417 

99.  JohnieScot 418 


CONTENTS  OF  VOLUME  V  IX 

100.    Willie  o  Winsbury 418 

106.   The  Famous  Flower  of  Serving-Men 418 

144.   JohnieCock 419 

157.   Gude  Wallace 419 

161.   The  Battle  of  Otterburn 419 

163.  The  Battle  of  Harlaw 419 

164.  King  Henry  Fifth's  Conquest  of  France 420 

169.   Johnie  Armstrong 420 

173.   Mary  Hamilton 421 

182.   The  Laird  o  Logie 421 

222.   Bonny  Baby  Livingston 421 

226.   Lizie  Lindsay .  421 

228.    Glasgow  Peggie 422 

235.   The  Earl  of  Aboyne 422 

247.   Lady  Elspat 422 

250.   Andrew  Bartin 423 

256.   AUson  and  Willie 423 

258.   BroughtyWa's 423 

278.   The  Farmer's  Curst  Wife 423 

281.   The  Keach  i  the  Creel 424 

286.   The  Sweet  Trinity 424 

299.   Trooper  and  Maid 424 

IsDisx.  OF  Ballad  Titles 425 

Titles  of  Collections  of  Ballads,  or  Books  contaxninq  Ballads,  which  are  vebt  briefly 

CITED  IN  this  work 455 

Index  of  Matters  and  Literature 469 

Bibliography 603 

Corrections  to  be  made  in  the  Print 567 


266 


JOHN  THOMSON  AND  THE  TURK 


A.  '  John  Thomson  and  the  Turk,'  Buchan's  Ballads 
of  the  North  of  Scotland,  11,  159  ;  Motherwell's  Min- 
strelsy, Appendix,  p.  ix.  •  John  Tamson/  Mother^ 
well's  MS.,  p.  615. 


B.    Leyden's  Glossary  to  The  Complaynt  of  Scotland, 
p.  371,  four  stanzas. 


/V 


s» 


)y 


Lbtden  (1801)  says  that  he  had  "heard 
the  whole  song  when  very  young."  *  Moth- 
erwell's copy  was  probably  given  him  by 
Buchan. 

John  Thomson  has  been  fighting  against 
the  Turks  for  more  than  three  years,  when  he 
is  surprised  by  receiving  a  visit  from  his  wife, 
who  walks  up  to  him  in  a  rich  dress,  as  if 
Scotland  were  just  round  the  comer.  The 
lady  stays  several  days,  and  then  gives  her 
husband  to  understand  that  she  is  going  home. 
He  recommends  her  to  take  a  road  across  the 
lea,  for  by  doing  this  she  will  escape  wild  Hind 
Soldan  and  base  Violentrie.  It  is  not  so  much 
an  object  with  the  lady  to  avoid  these  Turks 
as  John  Thomson  supposes.  The  Soldan,  it 
turns  out,  has  been  slain ;  but  she  goes  straight 
to  Violentrie.  After  a  twelvemonth  John 
Thomson  sends  a  letter  to  Scotland,  "to  see 
about  his  gay  lady."  An  answer  is  returned 
that  her  friends  have  not  laid  eyes  on  her  in 
all  that  time.  John  Thomson  disguises  him- 
self as  a  palmer  and  hies  to  Violentrie's  cas- 
tle, where  he  finds  his  lady  established.  Learn- 
ing that  the  palmer  has  come  from  the  Scots' 
army  in  Greece,  she  asks  whether  one  of  the 
chieftains  has  seen  his  wife  lately,  and  is  told 
that  it  is  long  since  the  knight  in  question 
parted  with  his  wife,  and  that  he  has  some 

*  He  has  introduced  the  main  points  of  the  story  (in  fact 
B  2,  3)  into  his  ballad  of  '  Lord  Soulis,'  Scott's  Minstrelsy, 
1833,  IV,  244. 

t  Especially  by  A.  Vesselofsky,  Slavic  Tales  concerning 
Solomon  and  Kitovras,  etc.,  St  Petersburg,  1872  (in  Rus- 
sian) ;  Neue  Beitrage  zur  Geschichte  der  Salomonssage, 

VOL.  V.  1 


fear  lest  the  lady  should  have  been  captured 
by  his  foes.  The  lady  declares  that  she  is 
where  she  is  by  her  own  will,  and  means  to 
stay.  The  palmer  throws  off  his  disguise, 
begs  to  be  hidden  from  Violentrie,  and  is 
put  down  in  a  dark  cellar.  Violentrie  soon 
arrives  and  calls  for  his  dinner,  casually  re- 
marking that  he  would  give  ten  thousand 
sequins  for  a  sight  of  the  Scot  who  has  so 
often  put  him  to  flight.  The  lady  takes  him 
at  his  word,  and  calls  up  John  Thomson.  The 
Turk  demands  what  he  would  do  if  their  po- 
sitions were  exchanged.  "  Hang  you  up,"  the 
Scot  replies,  with  spirit,  "  and  make  you  wale 
your  tree."  Violentrie  takes  his  captive  to 
the  wood.  John  Thomson  climbs  tree  after 
tree,  ties  a  ribbon  to  every  branch,  and  puts 
up  a  flag  as  a  sign  to  his  men  :  all  which  the 
Turk  thinks  no  harm.  Then  John  Thomson 
blows  his  horn.  Three  thousand  men  come 
tripping  over  the  hill  and  demand  their  chief. 
The  Turk  begs  for  mercy,  and  gets  such  as 
he  would  have  given :  they  burn  him  in  his 
castle,  and  hang  the  lady. 

This  ridiculous  ballad  is  a  seedling  from 
an  ancient  and  very  notable  story,  which  has 
an  extensive  literature,  and  has  of  late  been 
subjected  to  learned  and  acute  investigation.! 
It  may  be  assumed  with  confidence  that  the 

Archiv  fur  Slavische  Philologie,  VI,  393  fE.,  548  ff.,  1882  ; 
V.  Jagic,  Archiv,  etc.,  I,  103  ff.,  1876;  F.  Vogt,  Salman 
und  Morolf,  1880,  Zur  Sal man-Morolf sage,  Paul  und 
Braune's  Beitrage,  VIII,  313  ff.,  1882.  See  these  for  tales 
containing  portions  of  the  same  matter  in  various  combina- 
tions, and  for  a  discussion  of  an  Oriental  derivation. 


266.  JOHN  THOMSON  AND  THE  TURK 


sj  I  story  was  originally  one  of  King  Solomon  and 
/  his  queen,  of  whom  it  is  related  in  Russian, 
\  Servian,  and  German.  In  the  course  of  trans- 
mission, as  ever  has  been  the  wont,  names 
were  changed,  and  also  some  subordinate  cir- 
cumstances; in  Portuguese,  Solomon  is  re- 
placed by  Ramiro  II,  king  of  Leon ;  in  a 
French  romance  by  the  Bastard  of  Bouillon. 
It  is,  however,  certain  that  the  Solomon  story 
was  well  known  to  the  French,  and  as  early 
as  the  twelfth  century.*  Something  of  the 
same  story,  again,  is  found  in  Konig  Rother 
and  in  the  Clig^s  of  Crestien  de  Troies,  both 
works  of  the  twelfth  century,  and.  in  various 
other  poems  and  tales. 
/  The  tale  of  the  rape  of  Solomon's  wife  and 
\  of  the  revenge  taken  by  Solomon  is  extant  in 
^)_Russiaja  in  three  hyliny  (or,  we  may  say,  bal- 
lads), taken  down  from  recitation  in  this  cen- 
tury, and  in  three  prose  versions  preserved  in 
—  (  MSS  of  the  sixteenth,  seventeenth,  and  eight- 
y]  eenth  centuries.  The  hyliny^  relate  that 
Tsar  Vasily  of  Constantinople  (or  Novgorod), 
while  feasting  with  his  nobles,  demands  of 
them  to  find  him  a  wife  who  shall  be  his  fair 
match  in  stature,  beauty,  wit,  and  birth.  One 
of  the  company  undertakes  to  get  for  his  mas- 
ter Salamanija  (Salomonida),  the  beautiful 
wife  of  Salomon,  Tsar  of  Jerusalem  (or  of  Con- 
stantinople), and  effects  the  business  by  entic- 
ing her  on  board  of  a  ship  to  see  fine  things,  an 
artifice  of  frequent  occurrence  in  ballads.  Sal- 
omon sets  out  to  retrieve  his  wife,  attended  by 
a  large  army  (which  he  conceals  in  a  grove), 
presents  himself  at  Vasily's  palace  as  a  pil- 
grim (or  other  humble  personage),  is  recog- 
nized by  his  wife,  and  shut  up  in  a  box. 
When  Vasily  comes  back  from  hunting,  Sala- 
manija tells  him  what  has  chanced,  and  ad- 
vises the  instant  execution  of  Salomon,  which 
is  resolved  on.  Salomon  is  to  be  beheaded, 
but  he  begs  that  he  may  be  hanged,  and  that 
three  nooses,  of  rope,  bast,  and  silk,  may  be 
provided.  Under  the  gallows  Salomon  asks 
to  be  allowed  to  sound  his  horn.  Salamanija 
objects,  but  is  overruled.     He  blows  thrice ; 

*G.  Paris,  in  Komania,  VII,  462,  IX,  436;  Cligfes,  ed. 
Foerster,  p.  xix. 

tKybnikof,  11,   Nos  52,  53,  HI,  No  56.     See  Jagic,  as 


his  army  comes  at  the  third  sounding.  Vasily 
is  hanged  in  the  silken  noose,  Salamanija  in 
the  rope,  and  the  man  that  carried  her  off  in 
the  basta 

One  of  the  prose  tales  narrates  these  trans-  V 
actions  as  follows.  The  wife  of  Solomon,  king 
of  Jerusalem,  is  stolen  from  him  by  his  bro- 
ther Kitovras,  through  the  agency  of  a  magi- 
cian, who,  in  the  character  of  a  merchant,  ex- 
cites Solomon's  admiration  for  a  magnificent 
purple  robe.  Solomon  buys  the  robe,  and  in- 
vites the  seeming  merchant  to  his  table.  Dur- 
ing the  repast  the  magician  envelops  the  king 
and  his  people  in  darkness,  brings  a  heavy 
slumber  upon  the  queen  and  her  people,  and 
carries  her  off  in  his  arms  to  his  ship.  Solo- 
mon, learning  that  his  wife  is  in  the  posses- 
sion of  Kitovras,  proceeds  against  him  with 
an  army,  which  he  orders  to  come  to  his 
help  when  they  shall  hear  his  horn  sound  the 
third  time.  Clad  as  an  old  pilgrim  or  beggar, 
he  enters  Kitovras's  garden,  where  he  comes 
upon  a  girl  with  a  gold  cup,  who  is  about  to 
draw  water.  He  asks  to  drink  from  the 
king's  cup.  The  girl  objects,  for,  if  reported 
to  the  king,  such  a  thing  would  be  the  death 
of  both  of  them  ;  but  the  gift  of  a  gold  ring 
induces  her  to  consent.  The  queen  sees  the 
ring  on  the  girl's  hand,  and  asks  who  gave  it 
to  her.  An  old  pilgrim,  she  replies.  No  pil- 
grim, says  the  queen,  but  my  husband,  Solo- 
mon. Solomon  is  brought  before  the  queen, 
and  asked  what  he  has  come  for.  To  take 
off  your  head,  he  answers.  To  your  own 
death,  rejoins  the  queen ;  you  shall  be  hanged. 
Kitovras  is  sent  for,  and  pronounces  this  doom. 
Solomon  reminds  Kitovras  that  they  are  bro- 
thers, and  asks  that  he  may  die  in  regal  style ; 
that  Kitovras  and  the  queen  shall  attend  the 
execution,  with  all  the  people  of  the  city ;  and 
that  there  shall  be  ample  provision  of  food 
and  drink :  all  which  is  granted.  At  the  gal- 
lows he  finds  a  noose  of  bast;  he  begs  that 
two  other  nooses  may  be  provided,  one  of  red 
silk,  one  of  yeUow,  so  that  he  may  have  a 
choice,  and  this  whim  is  complied  with.     At 

above,  pp.  103-6 ;  Miss  I.  F.  Hapgood,  Epic  Songs  of  Hassia, 
p.  282,  who  combines  the  three  texts. 


266.  JOHN  THOMSON  AND  THE  TURK 


ways  urging  their  brotherhood,  Solomon,  at 
three  successive  stages,  asks  the  privilege  of 
blowing  his  horn.  The  army  is  at  hand  upon 
the  third  blast,  and  is  ordered  to  kill  every- 
body. Kitovras  and  the  queen  are  hanged  in 
the  silken  nooses,  the  magician  in  the  bast.* 

The  variations  of  the  other  versions  are 
mostly  not  material  to  our  purpose.  In  one, 
King  Por  takes  the  place  of  Kitovras ;  in  the 
third,  the  king  of  Cyprus.  In  the  latter,  Solo- 
mon asks  to  be  hanged  upon  a  tree,  a  great 
oak.  The  king  of  Cyprus  begs  for  a  gentle 
death,  and  his  veins  are  opened.  The  queen 
is  dismembered  by  horses. 

A  Servian  popular  tale  runs  thus.     Solo- 


mon's wife  fell  in  love  with  another  king,  and 
not  being  able  to  escape  to  him  on  account 
of  the  strict  watch  which  was  kept  over  her, 
made  an  arrangement  with  him  that  he  should 
send  her  a  drink  which  should  make  her  seem 
to  be  dead.  Solomon,  to  test  the  reality  of 
her  death,  cut  off  her  little  finger,  and  seeing 
no  sign  of  feeling,  had  her  buried.  The  other 
king  sent  his  people  to  dig  her  up,  restored 
animation,  and  took  her  to  wife.  When  Solo- 
mon found  out  what  had  been  done,  he  set 
out  for  the  king's  palace  with  a  body  of  armed 
men,  whom  he  left  in  a  wood,  under  orders  to 
hasten  to  his  relief  when  they  heard  the  blast 
of  a  trumpet,  each  man  with  a  green  bough 
in  his  hand.  The  king  was  out  a-hunting, 
the  queen  at  home.  She  wiled  Solomon  into 
a  chamber  and  locked  him  up,  and  when  the 
king  came  back  from  the  chase  told  him  to 
go  into  the  room  and  cut  Solomon  down, 
but  to  enter  into  no  talk,  since  in  that  case 
he  would  certainly  be  outwitted.  Solomon 
laughed  at  the  king  and  his  sword  :  that  was 
not  the  way  for  a  king  to  dispose  of  a  king. 
He  should  take  him  to  a  field  outside  the  city, 
and  let  a  trumpet  sound  thrice,  so  that  every- 
body that  wished  might  witness  the  spectacle; 
then  he  would  find  that  the  very  greenwood 
would  come  to  see  one  king  put  another  to 
death.  The  king  was  curious  to  know  whether 
the  wood  would  come,  and  adopted  Solomon's 
suggestion.     At  the  first  sound  of  the  trum- 

*  Jagic,  Archiv,  1, 107  f. ;  Vesselofsky,  the  same,  VI,  406. 
t  Cf.  B  3*.    Methinks  I  see  a  coming  tree. 


pet,  Solomon's  men  set  forward ;  at  the  sec- 
ond they  were  near  at  hand,  but  could  not 
be  distinguished  because  of  the  green  boughs 
which  they  bore.t  The  king,  convinced  that 
the  wood  was  coming,  ordered  a  third  blast. 
Solomon  was  rescued  ;  the  king  and  his  court 
were  put  to  the  sword.J 

A  Littlej{,ussian  story  of  Solomon  and  his 
wife  is  given  by  Dragomanof,  Popular  Tradi- 
tions and  Tales,  1876,  p.  103,  translated  in 
Revue  des  Traditions  Populaires,  II,  518,  by 
E.  Hins.  Solomon  takes  a  wife  from  the  fam- 
ily of  a  heathen  tsar.  She  hates  him,  and  con- 
certs an  elopement  with  a  heathen  tsarevitch. 
She  pretends  to  be  dead.  Solomon  burns  her 
hands  through  and  through  with  a  red-hot 
iron.  She  utters  no  sound,  is  buried  in  the 
evening,  and  immediately  disinterred  and  car- 
ried off  by  her  paramour.  Solomon  goes  to 
the  tsarevitch's  house,  attended  by  three 
armies,  a  black,  a  white,  and  a  red  (which 
are,  of  course,  kept  out  of  sight),  and  furnished 
with  three  pipes.  The  tsarevitch  has  a  gal- 
lows set  up,  and  Solomon  is  taken  out  to  be 
hanged.  He  obtains  liberty  first  to  play  on 
his  pipes.  The  sound  of  the  first  brings  the 
white  army,  that  of  the  second  the  red,  that 
of  the  third  the  black.  The  tsarevitch  is 
hanged,  the  tsaritsa  dragged  at  a  horse's  tail. 

A  like  story  is  narrated  in  German  in  a 


passage  of  about  two  hundred  and  fifty  verses, 
which  is  appended  to  the  Wit-Combat,  or 
Dialogue,  of  Solomon  and  Morolf ;  and  again, 
with  much  interpolation  and  repetition,  in  a 
later  strophic  poem  of  more  than  four  thou- 
sand lines.  Both  pieces  are  extant  in  manu- 
scripts and  print  of  the  fifteenth  century,  but 
their  original  is  considerably  earlier. 

In  the  briefer  and  earlier  of  the  two  Ger- 
man versions,  Solomon's  wife  has  bestowed 
her  love  on  a  nameless  heathen  king,  and 
wishes  to  escape  to  him,  but  cannot  bring 
this  about.  She  feigns  to  be  sick,  and  the 
heathen  (with  whom  she  has  been  in  corre- 
spondence) sends  two  minstrels  to  her,  who 
pretend  to  be  able  to  cure  sick  folk  with  their 
music.     They  obtain  admission  to  the  queen, 

I  Earadschitscb,  Volksmarchen  der  Serben,  1854,  No  42, 
p.  233. 


V^ 


1/ 


4 


aee.  john  Thomson  and  the  tubk 


give  her  an  herb  which  throws  her  into  a 
death-like  sleep,  and  carry  her  off  to  their 
master.  Morolf,  at  King  Solomon's  entreaty, 
sets  forth  to  find  the  queen,  and,  after  trav- 
ersing many  strange  lands,  succeeds.  Solo- 
mon, under  his  guidance  and  advice,  and  prop- 
erly supported  by  an  armed  force,  goes  to  the 
castle  where  the  queen  is  living ;  leaves  his 
men  in  an  adjoining  wood,  under  command 
to  come  to  him  when  they  hear  his  horn  blow ; 
and,  disguised  as  a  pilgrim,  begs  food  at  the 
castle.  His  wife  knows  him  the  moment  she 
lays  eyes  on  him,  and  tells  the  heathen  that 
it  is  Solomon.  The  heathen,  overjoyed,  says 
to  Solomon,  If  I  were  in  your  hands,  what 
should  be  my  death  ?  Would  God  it  were 
so  !  answers  the  king.  I  would  take  you  to 
the  biggest  wood,  let  you  choose  your  tree, 
and  hang  you.  So  shall  it  be,  says  the 
heathen,  calls  his  people,  takes  Solomon  to 
the  wood,  and  bids  him  choose  his  tree.  I 
shall  not  be  long  about  that,  says  Solomon ; 
but,  seeing  that  I  am  of  kingly  strain,  grant 
me,  as  a  boon,  to  blow  my  horn  three  times. 
The  queen  objects ;  the  heathen  says,  Blow 
away.  At  the  third  blast  Morolf  arrives 
with  Solomon's  men.  The  heathen  and  all 
his  people  are  slain  ;  the  queen  is  taken  back 
to  Jewry,  and  put  to  death  by  opening  her 
veins  in  a  bath.* 

The  longer  poem  has  several  additional  in- 
cidents which  recur  in  our  ballad,  and  others 
which  link  it  with  other  forms  of  the  story. 
Salme,  Solomon's  wife,  is  daughter  of  an  In- 
dian king  (Cyprian,  cf.  the  third  Russian 
prose  tale),  and  has  been  stolen  from  her 
father  by  Solomon.  Fore,  a  heathen  king,  in 
turn  steals  Salme  from  the  king  of  Jerusa- 
lem. Morolf  is  not  the  sharp-witted  boor  of 
the  other  piece,  but  Solomon's  brother.  When 
Solomon  goes  to  Fore's  castle,  he  is  kindly  re- 
ceived by  that  king's  sister,  and  she  remains 
his  fast  friend  throughout.     He  tells  her  that 


he  is  a  sinful  man,  upon  whom  has  been 
imposed  a  penance  of  perpetual  pilgrimage. 
Brought  before  the  queen,  Solomon  tries  to 
make  Salme  come  back  to  him.  She  lets 
him  know  that  she  loves  Fore  three  times  as 
well  as  him,  and  to  Fore  will  she  stick.  Solo- 
mon is  put  into  some  side  room.  Fore  comes 
home  and  sits  down  to  table  with  Salme,  and 
she  informs  him  that  Solomon  is  in  his  power. 
The  army  consists  of  three  divisions,  a  black, 
a  white,  and  a  wan  (bleich),  nearly  as  in  the 
Little  Russian  tale.  The  reason  which  Solo- 
mon alleges  for  wishing  to  blow  his  horn  is 
to  give  notice  to  St  Michael  and  the  angels 
to  come  and  take  his  soul  in  charge.  Fore 
is  hanged.  Salme  is  disposed  of  as  before, 
but  not  until  after  she  has  eloped  with  an- 
other king.  Solomon  marries  Fore's  sister 
after  Salme's  death.f 

The  adventure  of  Solomon  will  be  recog-  . 
nized  in  what  is  recounted  in  Portuguese  gen-  v^ 
ealogies  of  the  fourteenth  century  concern- 
ing King  Ramiro  Second  of  Leon  (f  950).J 
King  Ramiro,  smitten  with  passion  for  a  beau- 
tiful Moorish  lady,  got  himself  invited  to  the 
castle  of  her  brother  Alboazar,  at  Gaya,  and 
plumply  asked  for  her.  He  would  make  her 
a  Christian  and  marry  her.  Alboazar  replied 
that  Ramiro  had  a  wife  and  children  already. 
Ramiro  could  not  deny  this,  but  his  queen  was, 
it  seems,  conveniently  near  of  kin  to  him,  and 
Holy  Church  would  allow  a  separation.  The 
Moor  swore  that  he  never  would  give  his  sister 
to  Ramiro.  Ramiro,  under  cover  of  a  dark- 
ness produced  by  an  astrologer  in  his  service, 
carried  her  off  to  Leon  and  had  her  baptized 
with  the  name  Artiga.  Alboazar,  in  revenge, 
availed  himself  of  a  favorable  opportunity  to 
lay  hands  on  Aldora,  Ramiro's  queen,  and 
took  her  to  his  castle  of  Gaya.  Ramiro, 
with  five  galleys  crowded  with  his  vassals, 
ran  in  at  San  Joao  de  Foz,  near  Gaya.  He 
had  taken  the  precaution  to  cover  his  gal- 


*Von  der  Hagen  u.  Biisching,  Deutsche  Gredichte  des 
Mittelalters,  1808,  I,  62,  vv.  1605-1848. 

t  Vogt,  Salman  und  Marolf. 

X  Os  livros  de  Linhagens,  in  Portugalias  Monumenta  His- 
torica,  Scriptorea,  1856, 1, 180  f.,  274-7.  The  latter  account 
was  printed  by  Southey  in  the  preface  to  his  ballad  '  King 


Eamiro'  (1802),  Poetical  Works,  1853,  VI,  122,  and  a  pas- 
sage from  the  other. 

Kemble,  Salomon  &  Satumus,  p.  19,  1848,  remarks  on 
the  resemblance  of  the  story  of  Ramiro  to  that  of  Solomon. 
For  historical  names  and  facts  in  the  Portuguese  sage,  see 
Baist  in  Zs.  f .  romanische  Philologie,  Y,  1 73 


266.  JOHN  THOMSON  AND  THE  TURK 


leys  with  green  cloth,  and  he  laid  them  under 
the  boughs  of  trees  with  which  the  place  was 
covered,  so  that  they  were  not  to  be  seen. 
Having  landed  his  men,  he  left  them  under 
the  command  of  his  son,  D.  Ordonho,  with 
directions  that  they  should  keep  well  hidden 
and  not  stir  from  the  spot  till  they  should 
hear  his  horn,  but  then  come  with  all  speed, 
and  himself  putting  on  mean  clothes  (panos 
de  tacanho,  de  veleto)  over  sword,  mail,  and 
horn,  went  and  lay  down  at  a  spring  near 
the  castle.  One  of  the  queen's  women  came 
out  to  fetch  water  for  her  mistress.  Ramiro, 
feigning  to  be  unable  to  rise,  asked  her  for  a 
drink,  which  she  offered  him.  He  put  into 
his  mouth  the  half  of  a  ring  which  he  had 
divided  with  his  queen,  and  dropped  it  into 
the  vessel.  The  queen  saw  the  half-ring  and 
knew  it,  and  elicited  from  her  maid  that  she 
had  met  a  sick  beggar,  who  had  asked  for  a 
drink.  The  man  was  sent  for.  *  What  brings 
you  here,  King  Ramiro  ? '  demanded  the  queen. 
*  Love  for  you,'  said  he.  '  No  love  for  me  ; 
you  care  more  for  Artiga,'  she  retorted.  Ra- 
miro was  put  into  a  back  room,  and  the  door 
was  locked.  Presently  Alboazar  came  into 
the  queen's  chamber.  The  queen  said  to 
him,  What  would  you  do  to  Ramiro  if  you 
had  him  here?  Put  him  to  death  cruelly 
(What  he  would  do  to  me,  kill  him),  re- 
sponded the  Moor.  He  is  locked  up  in  that 
room,  said  the  queen,  and  you  can  proceed  at 
your  will. 

Ramiro  heard  all  this,  and  saw  that  he 
had  never  had  more  need  to  use  his  wits. 
He  called  in  a  loud  voice  to  Alboazar:  I 
wronged  you  by  carrying  off  your  sister.  I 
confessed  my  sin  to  my  priest,  and  he  required 
of  me  as  penance  to  go  to  you  in  this  vile 
garb,  and  put  myself  in  your  power  ;  and  if 
you  wished  to  take  my  life,  I  was  to  submit 
to  death  in  a  shameful  place,  and  the  fact  and 
cause  of  my  death  were  to  be  proclaimed  by  a 


horn  to  all  your  people.  Now  I  have  to  ask 
that  you  would  collect  your  sons,  your  daugh- 
ters, your  kinsfolk,  and  the  people  of  this 
town,  in  a  cattle-yard  (curral),  put  me  up 
high,  and  let  me  blow  this  horn  that  I  wear, 
until  breath  and  life  fail.  So  you  will  have 
your  revenge,  and  I  shall  save  my  soul.  Al- 
boazar began  to  feel  compassion  for  Ramiro. 
Aldora  exclaimed  at  his  weakness  and  folly. 
Ramiro,  she  said,  was  revengeful  and  cunning, 
and  sparing  him  was  rushing  into  destruc- 
tion ;  whereby  the  Moor  was  brought  to  say. 
You  know  that  if  you  had  me  in  your  hands, 
I  should  not  escape.  I  will  do  what  you  ask, 
for  the  salvation  of  your  soul.  So  Alboazar 
took  Ramiro  to  the  yard,  which  had  high 
walls  and  but  one  gate,  and  the  queen,  her 
dames  and  damsels,  the  Moor's  sons  and 
kinsfolk,  and  the  town's  people,  were  there. 
Ramiro  was  put  on  a  pillar,  and  told  to  blow 
till  life  left  his  body ;  and  he  blew  with  all 
his  might.  D.  Ordonho  came  with  the  king's 
vassals  and  beset  the  gate.  Ramiro  drew  his 
sword  and  split  Alboazar's  head.  The  queen 
and  her  ladies  were  spared,  but  every  other 
creature  in  the  yard  was  slain,  including  four 
sons  and  three  daughters  of  Alboazar,  and  no 
stone  was  left  standing  in  Gaya.  Ramiro  put 
the  queen  and  her  women  aboard  the  galleys. 
Aldora  was  found  weeping.  Ramiro  asked  the 
cause.  Because  you  have  killed  the  Moor, 
a  better  man  than  yourself,  was  her  answer. 
This  was  thought  too  much  to  be  borne.  The 
queen  was  tied  to  a  millstone  and  thrown 
into  the  sea.     Ramiro  married  Artiga.* 

There  is  a  poem  on  this  theme  by  Joao  ^ 
Vaz  (Lisbon,  1630,  reprinted  by  Braga,  1868), 
which  points  to  a  different  source  than  the 
genealogies.  Ramiro  takes  the  sister  of  King 
Almanzor  captive  in  war,  and  becomes  enam- 
ored of  her,  in  consequence  of  which  Gaya, 
Ramiro's  wife,  elopes  with  Almanzor.  Gaya 
receives  Ramiro  with  feigned  kindness  when 


•  There  is  nothing  abont  the  fair  Moor  in  the  first  and 
briefer  account,  or  of  the  penance  given  Ramiro.  Ortiga  is 
there  the  name  of  the  servant  who  comes  to  fetch  v?ater.  Ra- 
miro is  brought  before  the  Moor  and  told  that  he  is  to  die. 
But  I  should  like  to  ask  you,  says  the  Moor,  what  manner 
of  death  mine  should  be  if  you  had  me  in  your  hands.   The 


king  was  very  hungry,  and  he  answered,  I  would  give  you 
a  stewed  capon  and  a  loaf,  and  make  you  eat  them,  and 
then  wine  and  make  you  drink,  and  then  open  the  gates  of 
my  cattle-yard  and  have  all  my  people  called  to  see  you  die, 
and  make  you  mount  on  a  pillar  and  blow  your  hom  till 
your  breath  was  gone. 


6 


266.  JOHN  THOMSON  AND  THE  TURK 


y^ 


he  comes  to  the  castle,  then  betrays  him  (as 
in  the  French  romance).* 

Almeida-Garrett  composed  a  little  romance 
out  of  the  story  as  here  given,  with  the  name 
Zahara  for  Alboazar's  sister,  and  Gala  for 
Ramiro's  wife,  and  making  Ramiro  cut  off 
Gaia's  head  before  he  throws  her  into  the 
water:  'Miragaia,'  Romanceiro,  I,  181,  ed. 
1863.  He  informs  us  that  he  has  interwoven 
in  his  poem  some  verses  from  popular  tradi- 
tion. A  ballad  of  Ramiro,  or  at  least  some 
remnant  of  one,  appears  still  to  be  in  exist- 
ence. Madame  de  Vasconcellos  (1880)  had 
heard  two  lines  of  it. 

Li  Bastars  de  Bullion,  a  romance  of  the 
fourteenth  century,  repeats  the  chief  incidents 
of  the  foregoing  accounts,  agreeing  in  details 
sometimes  with  one,  sometimes  with  another.f 
Ludie,  daughter  of  the  emir  of  Orbrie,  is  to 
marry  Corsabrin,  king  of  Mont  Oscur.  The 
Bastard  of  Bouillon,  who  has  heard  of  the 
beauty  of  the  Saracen  princess,  conceives  a 
sudden  fancy  for  her.  He  besieges  and  takes 
the  city  of  Orbrie,  kills  the  emir,  and  com- 
pels Ludie  to  submit  to  baptism  and  to  mar- 
riage with  himself.  She  takes  advantage  of 
an  absence  of  the  Bastard  to  escape  to  Cor- 
sabrin, who  makes  her  his  queen.  The  Bas- 
tard, bent  on  vengeance,  sails  to  Mont  Oscur, 
and  in  the  adjacent  woods  lights  on  a  charcoal- 
man  who  is  going  to  the  castle  in  the  way  of 
his  business.  He  kills  the  charcoal-man  and 
puts  on  his  clothes,  and  in  this  habit,  with  a 
well-blackened  face,  has  no  difficulty  in  ob- 
taining entrance  to  the  residence  of  Corsabrin. 
His  men  he  has  left  in  the  wood  under  com- 
mand of  his  counsellor  and  lieutenant,  Hugh. 
Corsabrin  is  hawking,  but  the  Bastard  falls 
in  with  Ludie,  who  affects  to  be  glad  of  his 
coming,  and  offers  to  go  off  with  him  if  he 
will  forgive  her  and  do  her  no  harm.  A  bath 
would  seem  to  be  in  order.  Ludie  has  one 
prepared  for  the  Bastard,  and  while  he  is  en- 
gaged in  taking  it,  sends  for  Corsabrin,  who 
comes  in  upon  the  young  Frank  with  sixty 
men.  Ludie  enjoins  her  rightful  husband  to 
show  no  mercy.     The  Saracen  will  not  do  so 


infamous  a  thing  as  to  put  his  enemy  to  death 
in  a  bath,  but  assures  his  wife  that  the  Bas- 
tard shall  die  a  guise  de  martir.  A  rich  dress 
is  furnished  the  Bastard,  and  Corsabrin  then 
says.  On  your  oath,  now,  what  death  should 
I  die,  were  I  in  your  power  ?  Sire,  says  the 
Bastard,  why  should  I  dissemble  ?  I  promise 
you,  I  would  take  you  to  a  wood,  and  I  would 
hang  you  to  the  highest  tree  I  could  find.  By 
Mahound!  says  the  king,  so  will  I  do  with 
you.  The  Bastard  is  taken  to  a  wood,  with 
a  rope  round  his  neck.  Corsabrin's  people 
look  out  the  highest  tree.  The  Bastard  is 
made  to  go  up,  higher  and  higher,  the  hang- 
man drawing  the  rope  all  too  tight  the  while, 
till  the  king  says.  Now.  At  the  last  moment 
the  Bastard  calls  out  to  Corsabrin  that  he  is 
a  knight  of  high  birth,  and  ought  not  to  die 
like  a  rogue,  but  as  a  man  of  mark  dies  among 
the  Franks.  And  how  is  that  ?  asks  the  Sar- 
acen. They  give  him  a  horn,  and  he  blows 
four  or  five  times  to  summon  the  angels  to 
come  for  his  soul.  Then  he  says  a  prayer. 
Then  they  strangle  him  or  behead  him.  A 
horn  is  sent  up  to  the  Bastard,  and  he  blows 
lustily.  Hugh  hears,  and  rides  in  hot  haste  to 
the  call.  The  Bastard  makes  the  most  of  his 
grace ;  his  prayer  is  very  long.  He  sees  that 
a  fight  is  going  on  below,  and  knocks  the 
hangman  dead  from  the  tree  with  his  fist, 
then  comes  down  from  the  tree  and  joins  in 
the  fray.  Hugh  runs  Corsabrin  through  with 
a  lance,  Ludie  is  taken  captive,  and  every 
other  living  being  in  the  castle  is  slain. 
Hugh  begs  as  a  reward  for  his  services  that 
he  may  have  the  disposal  of  Ludie.  The 
Bastard  accords  the  boon,  with  a  reconmien- 
dation  to  mercy :  '  arse  fu  li  royne  c'on  ap- 
pella  Ludie.' 

The  escaping  to  a  lover  by  taking  a  drug 
which  causes  apparent  death,  and  the  test  of 
molten  lead  or  gold,  in  the  German  poems, 
and  in  Clig^s,  6000  ff.,  are  found  in  *  The 
Gay  Goshawk,'  No  96,  II,  355  ff.  The  test 
is  also  employed  in  one  form  of  the  Russian 
prose  narratives:  Vesselofsky,  in  the  Slavic 
Archiv,  VI,  409. 


*  Madame  Michaelis  de  Vasconcellos,  in  Paul  u.  Braune's 
Beitrage,  VIII,  315  f. 


t  Ed.  Scheler,  Bruxelles,  1877 ;  vv.  4503-6253. 


266.  JOHN  THOMSON  AND  THE  TURK 


A  portion  of  the  story  is  preserved  in  Scan- 
dinavian ballads,  with  very  distinct  marks  of 
Russian  origin. 

Swedish.  '  Jungfru  Solfager,'  Arwidsson, 
I,  177,  No  25 :  A  from  a  MS.  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  B  from  recitation. 

A.  Solfager  is  a  handsome  woman,  so  hand- 
some as  to  endanger  her  husband  Sir  David's 
life.  Fearing  that  she  may  be  carried  ofE, 
David  in  some  way  marks  or  stamps  her  hand 
with  a  gold  cross,  that  she  may  be  known 
thereby.  As  Solfager  is  standing  at  the  castle 
gate,  Novgorod's  (Nougard's)  king  comes  rid- 
ing up.  He  asks  if  her  husband  is  at  home ; 
Sir  David  went  away  the  day  before,  and  will 
not  come  back  for  a  year.  The  king  tells  her 
that  if  she  will  plight  herself  to  him  she  shall 
always  wear  gold  shoes ;  Solfager  answers 
that  she  loves  David  dearly.  The  king  gives 
her  a  drink,  two  drinks ;  she  swoons,  and  falls 
to  the  ground  ;  she  is  laid  on  a  bier,  taken  to 
the  kirk-yard,  and  buried.  The  king  (David 
in  the  text,  absurdly)  has  kept  his  eye  on 
their  doings  ;  he  digs  her  up,  and  carries  her 
out  of  the  land.  David,  disguised  as  a  pil- 
grim, goes  to  the  king  of  Novgorod's  palace, 
and  asks  to  be  housed  as  a  poor  pilgrim.  The 
king  invites  him  in.  David  takes  his  place 
with  other  pilgrims  ;  Solfager  breaks  bread 
for  them.  [Her  hand  is  gloved.]  David  asks 
why  she  does  not  break  bread  with  a  bare 
hand  ;  she  calls  him  an  old  fool,  and  bids  him 
eat  or  go.  The  king,  from  his  bed,  inquires 
what  the  pilgrim  is  saying.  '  Lie  down,  my 
lord,'  answers  Solfager ;  '  what  a  fool  says  is 
no  matter.'  They  all  fall  asleep  in  their 
places ;  Solfager  follows  Sir  David  home. 

B.  Solfot  looks  at  her  face  in  the  water. 
'  God  help  me  for  my  beauty ! '  she  exclaims, 
'  surely  I  shall  come  to  a  strange  land.'  Her 
husband,  the  Danish  king,  tells  her  that  he 
shall  write  a  cross  in  her  right  hand,  by  which 
he  shall  find  her  again.  While  Solfot  is  comb- 
ing her  hair  out  of  doors,  the  Ormeking 
asks  her  if  she  has  a  golden  crown  to  put  on  it ; 
she  has  four  and  five,  all  the  gift  of  the  king 
of  the  Danes.  Ormeking  gives  her  a  drink 
which  turns  her  black  and  blue ;  Solfot  is  laid 
in  the  ground ;  Ormeking  knows  well  where, 


takes  her  up,  carries  her  ofE  to  his  own  place, 
and  gives  her  seven  drinks ;  she  stands  up  as 
good  as  ever.  Daneking  dons  pilgrim's  clothes 
and  goes  to  Ormeking's.  Solfot,  as  northern 
ladies  wont,  is  combing  her  hair  out  of  doors. 
Daneking  asks  for  a  pilgrim's  house ;  there 
is  one  on  the  premises,  where  poor  pilgrims 
use  (like  King  Claudius)  to  take  their  rouse. 
The  pilgrims  stand  in  a  ring;  Solfot  is  to 
dispense  mead  to  them  in  turn.  Daneking 
dashes  his  gloves  on  the  board :  '  Is  it  not  the 
way  here  that  ladies  deal  mead  with  bare 
hands  ?  '  Ormeking  dashes  his  gloves  on  the 
board :  '  That  was  a  bold  word  for  a  pilgrim ! ' 
'  If  that  was  a  bold  word  for  a  pilgrim,'  says 
Daneking, '  it  was  bolder  yet  to  dig  Solfot  out 
of  the  ground.'  Then  he  puts  Solfot  on  his 
horse  and  rides  away. 

There  are  also  two  unprinted  nineteenth- 
century  copies  in  Professor  G.  Stephens's  col- 
lection. 

Norwegian.  '  S61fager  og  Ormekongin,' 
Landstad,  p.  503,  No  56,  from  a  woman's 
singing.  They  stamp  a  gold  cross  on  (or  into  ? 
the  process  is  not  clear)  S61fager's  hand,  that 
she  may  be  recognized  in  a  strange  country. 
The  Ormeking  (or  King  Orm)  comes  riding 
while  Solfager  is  sunning  her  hair.  '  Trick 
King  David,'  he  says,  *  and  bind  yourself  to 
me.'  '  Never  shall  it  be,'  she  replies,  '  that  I 
give  myseK  to  two  brothers.'  He  administers 
to  her  three  potions,  she  swoons ;  word  comes 
to  King  David  that  she  is  dead ;  they  bury 
her.  Ormeking  does  not  fail  to  carry  off  the 
body.  King  David  goes  to  Ormeking's  land 
in  pilgrim's  garb,  with  pilgrim's  staff ;  as  he 
enters  the  court  Sdlfager  is  undoing  her  hair. 
[Then  there  is  a  gap,  which  may  be  easily 
filled  up  from  the  Swedish  story.]  '  Is  it  the 
custom  here  to  cut  bread  with  gloved  hand  ?  ' 
She  takes  off  his  pilgrim's  hat,  and  takes  his 
yeUow  locks  in  her  hand.  '  When  you  say 
you  are  a  pilgrim,  you  must  be  lying  to  me.' 
'  Even  so,'  he  answers,  *  but  I  am  your  dear 
husband,  as  you  easily  may  see.  Will  you  go 
home  with  me  ?  '  '  Gladly,'  she  says,  '  but  I 
am  afraid  of  Ormeking.'  King  David  takes 
Ormeking's  horse  and  rides  home  with  his 
wife.     When  Ormeking  comes  back,  S61fager 


8 


266.  JOHN  THOMSON  AND  THE  TURK 


^ 


is  away.  (A  final  stanza  does  not  belong  to 
the  story.) 

There  are  other  unprinted  copies  which 
will  appear  in  a  contemplated  edition  of  Nor- 
wegian ballads  by  Sophus  Bugge  and  Moltke 
Moe. 

Danish.  Eight  unprinted  MS.  copies  of  the 
seventeenth  century  and  a  flying  sheet  of  the 
date  1719.  The  ballad  will  be  No  472  of 
Danmarks  gamle  Folkeviser.*  A  fragment  of 
five  stanzas  (of  dialogue  relative  to  the  gloved 
hand)  is  given  by  Kristensen,  Jyske  Folke- 
minder,  X,  331,  No  82. 

It  will  be  observed  that  the  ravisher  is  king 
of  Novgorod  in  Swedish  A,  as  in  one  of  the 
Russian  epics,  and  that  he  is  the  brother  of 
King  David  in  the  Norwegian  ballad  as  he 
is  of  King  Solomon  in  the  Russian  prose  tale. 
The  sleeping-draught,  burial,  and  digging  up 
are  in  the  Servian  tale,  and  something  of  them 
in  the  Little  Russian  tale,  as  also  in  the  ear- 
lier German  poem. 

For  the  boon  of  blowing  the  horn  see  No 
123,  'Robin  Hood  and  the  Curtal  Friar,' 
and  No  140,  *  Robin  Hood  rescuing  Three 
Squires,'  HI,  122, 177,  ff. ;  also  HeiSreks  Saga, 
Rafn,  Fornaldar  Sogur,  I,  458-61  (14),  529  f. 
(9);  Vesselofsky,  in  the  Slavic  Archiv,  VI, 
404  f. ;  and  WoUner's  note,  Abschiedblasen, 
B ragman's  Litauische  Marchen,  p.  552. 

August  1,  1686,  there  was  allowed  to  Yar- 
rat  James  as  one  of  six  ballads  '  A  merrie 
jest  of  John  Tomson  and  Jakaman  his  wife,' 
Arber,  Stationers'  Registers,  II,  450.  This 
ballad  is  preserved  in  the  Roxburghe  collec- 
tion, I,  254,  255,  Ballad  Society's  edition,  II, 
186,  and,  so  far  as  I  have  observed,  there 
only.  It  is  subscribed  M.  L.,  initials  which 
Mr  Chappell  was  unable  to  identify,  and  it 


was  imprinted  at  London  for  Edward  Wright. 
The  Roxburghe  copy  was  reprinted  by  R. 
H.  Evans,  Old  BaUads,  1810,  1, 187.  The 
title  is 

*  A  merry  lest  of  John  Tomson  and  Jakaman  his 

wife, 
Whose  jealousie  was  justly  the  cause  of  all  their 
strife.' 

It  is  dated  in  the  Museum  catalogue  1635  ?. 
This  is  an  extremely  vapid  piece,  and  has  ^ 
no  manner  of  connection  with  '  John  Thom- 
son and  the  Turk.'  In  Halliwell's  Notices 
of  Popular  English  Histories,  p.  91,  Percy 
Society,  vol.  xxiii,  there  is  one,  No  108,  of 
'  John  Thompson's  Man,  or  a  short  survey  of 
the  difficulties  and  disturbances  that  may  at- 
tend a  married  life,'  etc.,  24  pp.,  12°.  There  is 
a  copy  in  the  Abbotsford  Library. 

*  To  be  John  Thomson's  man '  f  is  a  Scottish 
proverb  signifying  to  be  submissive  to  a  wife, 
or,  more  generally,  to  be  complaisant.  "  John 
Thomson's  men  "  are  "  still  ruled  by  their 
wives:"  Colville's  Whig's  Supplication,  or. 
The  Scotch  Hudibras,  cited  by  Motherwell. 
"  Samson  was  the  greatest  fool  that  ever  was 
bom,  for  he  revealed  his  secrets  to  a  daft 
hussie.  Samson,  you  may  well  call  him 
Fool  Thompson,  for  of  all  the  John  Thom- 
son's men  that  ever  was  he  was  the  foolest :" 
The  Scotch  Presbyterian  Eloquence,  etc., 
London,  1692  (cited  by  Motherwell,  from  the 
edition  of  1768,  in  a  MS.  note,  Appendix,  p. 
X,  in  a  copy  of  the  Minstrelsy  which  belonged 
to  Mr  R.  A.  Ramsay.)  Some  begging  verses 
of  Dunbar  to  the  King  have  the  refrain, '  God 
gif  ye  war  Johne  Thomsoneis  man.'  (Other 
quotations  in  Leyden,  p.  370,  Motherwell, 
Appendix,  p.  ix.)  % 


7 


*  I  am  indebted  to  Dr  Axel  Olrik  for  information  con- 
cerning the  Solf ager  ballads,  and  for  transcripts  of  Danish 
and  Swedish  versions  not  received  in  time  for  notice  here. 
See  p.  280. 

t  Originally,  no  doubt,  as  Motherwell  suggests,  Joan 
Thomson's  man,  or  husband. 

J  "  One  John  Thomson  is  mentioned  as  an  oflScer  in  the 
army  of  Edward  Bruce  in  Ireland.    After  Brace's  death. 


he  led  back  to  Scotland  the  remnant  of  his  army.  In  133^ 
he  held  for  David  Bruce  the  castle  of  Lochdoun  in  Carrick. 
Sir  W.  Scott  thus  characterizes  him  :  '  John  Thomson,  a  man 
of  obscure  birth  and  dauntless  valor,  the  same  apparently 
who  led  back  from  Ireland  the  shattered  remainder  of  Ed- 
ward Bruce's  army,  held  out  for  his  rightful  sovereign.* 
History  of  Scotland,  I,  181."  Note  by  Motherwell  in  Mr 
Ramsay's  copy  of  the  Minstrelsy,  Appendix,  p.  ix. 


266.  JOHN  THOMSON  AND  THE  TURK 


9 


Ln     A 

Buchan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  II,  159; 
Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  615;  Motherwell's  Minstrelsy,  Appen- 
dix, p.  ix. 

1  John  Thomson  fought  against  the  Turks 

Three  years  into  a  far  country, 
And  all  that  time,  and  something  more, 
Was  absent  from  his  gay  lady. 

2  But  it  fell  ance  upon  a  time, 

As  this  young  chieftain  sat  alane, 
He  spied  his  lady  in  rich  array, 
As  she  walkd  oer  a  rural  plain. 

3  '  What  brought  you  here,  my  lady  gay, 

So  far  awa  from  your  own  country  ? 
I  've  thought  lang,  and  very  lang, 
And  all  for  your  fair  face  to  see.' 

4  For  some  days  she  did  with  him  stay, 

Till  it  fell  ance  upon  a  day, 
'  Farewell  for  a  time,'  she  said, 

*  For  now  I  must  bound  home  away.' 

5  He  's  gien  to  her  a  jewel  fine, 

Was  set  with  pearl  and  precious  stone ; 
Says,  My  love,  beware  of  these  savages  bold. 
That 's  on  your  way  as  ye  go  home. 

6  Ye  '11  take  the  road,  my  lady  fair. 

That  leads  you  fair  across  the  lee ; 

That  keeps  you  from  wild  Hind  Soldan, 

And  likewise  from  base  Violentrie. 

7  With  heavy  heart  these  two  did  part, 

And  minted  as  she  would  go  home  ; 
Hind  Soldan  by  the  Greeks  was  slain, 
But  to  base  Violentrie  she  's  gone. 

8  When  a  twelvemonth  had  expired, 

John  Thomson  he  thought  wondrous  lang, 
And  he  has  written  a  broad  letter, 
And  seald  it  well  with  his  own  hand. 

9  He  sent  it  along  with  a  small  vessel 

That  there  was  quickly  going  to  sea. 
And  sent  it  on  to  fair  Scotland, 
To  see  about  his  gay  ladie. 

10  But  the  answer  he  received  again. 

The  lines  did  grieve  his  heart  right  sair  ; 

VOL.  V.  2 


None  of  her  friends  there  had  her  seen 
For  a  twelvemonth  and  something  mair. 

11  Then  he  put  on  a  palmer's  weed, 

And  took  a  pikestaff  in  his  hand ; 
To  Violentrie's  castle  he  hied, 
But  slowly,  slowly  he  did  gang. 

»12  When  within  the  hall  he  came, 

He  joukd  and  couchd  out-oer  his  tree : 
'  If  ye  be  lady  of  this  hall. 

Some  of  your  good  bountieth  give  me.' 

13  *  What  news,  what  news,  palmer  ? '  she  said, 

'  And  from  what  countrie  came  ye  ?  ' 
*  I  'm  lately  come  from  Grecian  plains, 
Where  lys  some  of  the  Scots  army.* 

14  '  K  ye  be  come  from  Grecian  plains, 

Some  more  news  I  will  ask  of  thee ; 

Of  one  of  the  chieftains  that  lies  there, 

K  he  have  lately  seen  his  gay  ladie.' 

15  '  It  is  twelve  months  and  something  more 

Since  we  did  part  in  yonder  plain ; 
And  now  this  knight  has  begim  to  fear 
One  of  his  foes  he  has  her  taen.' 

16  '  He  has  not  taen  me  by  force  nor  might. 

It  was  all  by  my  own  free  will ; 
He  may  tarry  in  the  fight. 
For  here  I  mean  to  tarry  still. 

17  *  And  if  John  Thomson  ye  do  see. 

Tell  him  I  wish  him  silent  sleep ; 
His  head  was  not  so  cozelie 

Nor  yet  so  well  as  lies  at  my  feet.' 

18  With  that  he  threw  [afp]  his  strange  disguise, 

Laid  by  the  mask  that  he  had  on  ; 
Said,  Hide  me  now,  my  ladie  fair, 
For  Violentrie  will  soon  be  home. 

19  *  For  the  love  I  bare  thee  once, 

I  '11  strive  to  hide  you  if  I  can  ; ' 
Then  put  him  down  to  a  dark  cellar, 
Where  there  lay  mony  a  new  slain  man. 

20  But  he  hadna  in  the  cellar  been 

Not  an  hour  but  barely  three. 
Till  hideous  was  the  sound  he  heard ; 
Then  in  at  the  gates  came  Violentrie. 


10 


266.  JOHN  THOMSON  AND  THE  TURK 


21  Says,  I  wish  yon  well,  my  lady  fair, 

It 's  time  for  us  to  sit  and  dine  ; 
Come,  serve  me  with  the  good  white  hread, 
And  likewise  with  the  claret  wine. 

22  '  That  Scots  chieftain,  our  mortal  foe, 

So  oft  from  field  has  made  us  flee, 
Ten  thousand  sequins  this  day  I  'd  give 
That  I  his  face  could  only  see.' 

23  *  Of  that  same  gift  would  ye  give  me, 
If  I  could  bring  him  unto  thee  ? 

I  fairly  hold  you  at  your  word ; 
Come  ben,  John  Thomson,  to  my  lord.' 

24  Then  from  the  vault  John  Thomson  came, 

Wringing  his  hands  most  piteouslie  ; 
'  What  would  ye  do,'  the  Turk  he  cried, 
'  If  ye  had  me,  as  I  have  thee  ?  ' 

25  '  If  I  had  you,  as  ye  have  me, 

I  '11  tell  you  what  I  'd  do  to  thee  ; 
I  'd  hang  you  up  in  good  greenwood, 
And  cause  your  own  hand  wile  the  tree. 

26  '  I  meant  to  stick  you  with  my  knife, 
For  kissing  my  beloved  wife ; ' 

'  But  that  same  weed  ye  've  shaped  for  me, 
It  quickly  shall  be  sewed  for  thee.' 


27  Then  to  the  wood  they  both  are  gone, 

John  Thomson  clamb  from  tree  to  tree  ; 
And  aye  he  sighd,  and  said,  Ohon  ! 
Here  comes  the  day  that  I  must  die ! 

28  He  tied  a  ribbon  on  every  branch. 

Put  up  a  flag  his  men  might  see ; 
But  little  did  his  false  foe  ken 
He  meant  them  any  injurie. 

29  He  set  his  horn  to  his  mouth. 

And  he  has  blawn  baith  loud  and  shrill ; 
And  then  three  thousand  armed  men 
Came  tripping  all  out-oer  the  hill. 

30  '  Deliver  us  our  chief ! '  they  all  did  cry, 

'  It 's  by  our  hand  that  ye  must  die  ! ' 
'  Here  is  your  chief,'  the  Turk  replied. 
With  that  fell  on  his  bended  knee. 

31  *  O  mercy,  mercy,  good  fellows  all, 

Mercy  I  pray  you  'U  grant  to  me ! ' 
*  Such  mercy  as  ye  meant  to  give, 
Such  mercy  we  shall  give  to  thee.' 

32  This  Turk  they  in  his  castle  burnt, 

That  stood  upon  yon  hill  so  hie ; 
John  Thomson's  gay  lady  they  took, 
And  hangd  her  on  yon  greenwood  tree. 


B  Ln 

Leyden's  Glossary  to  The  Complaynt  of  Scotland,  p.  371. 

1  0  CAM  ye  in  by  the  House  o  Rodes, 

Or  cam  ye  there  away  ? 
Or  have  [ye]  seen  Johne  Tamson  ? 
They  say  his  wife  has  run  away. 
****** 

2  '  O  what  wad  ye  do,  Johne  Tamson, 

Gin  ye  had  me  as  I  hae  thee  ? ' 


*  I  wad  tak  ye  to  the  gude  green-wood, 
And  gar  your  ain  hand  weil  the  tree.' 
*****  *         * 

3  Johne  Tamson  peeped  and  poorly  spake 

Untill  he  did  his  ain  men  see ; 
'  O  by  my  sooth,'  quo  Johne  Tamson, 
'  Methinks  I  see  a  coming  tree.' 
******* 

4  And  they  hae  hanged  that  grim  Soudan, 

For  a'  his  mirth  and  meikle  pride, 
And  sae  hae  they  that  ill  woman. 
Upon  a  scrogg-bush  him  beside. 


15^  two  months  in  all  the  copies  ;  cf.  8*. 

19^  lye. 

MotherwelVs  MS.  has  a  few  variations,  hut  these 
may  he  attributed  to  Motherwell.  All  except- 
ing one,  which  is  an  error  of  the  pen,  appear 
in  the  Minstrelsy. 


6*.  in  your.    14*.  has.     15'.  part  on. 

16«.  into  the.     19*.  lay.     20«.  Then. 

(20*.  Minstrelsy,WkeTi.)     20*.  gate. 

21".  sit  to.     228.  I  '11. 

25^  ha.\e,  error  of  the  pen.     25*.  wale. 

26**.  ladie/or  wife,  to  avoid  couplets.    28".  foes. 


267.    THE  HEIB  OF  LINNE 


n 


267 
THE  HEIR  OF  LINNE 


A.  *  The  Heir  of  Lin,'  Percy  MS.,  p.  71 ;  Hales  and 
Furnivall,  I,  174. 

B.  a. '  The  Heir  of  Linne,'  Buchan's  MSS,  I,  40  ;  Mo- 
therwell's MS.,  p.  630  ;  Dixon,  Scottish  Traditional 


Versions  of  Ancient  Ballads,  p.  30,  Percy  Society, 
vol.  xvii.  b.  ♦  The  Weary  Heir  of  Linne,'  Buchan's 
MSS,  II,  114.  c.  'The  Laird  o  Linne,'  Christie's 
Traditional  Ballad  Airs,  I,  112. 


The  three  stanzas  cited  by  Motherwell, 
Minstrelsy,  Introduction,  p.  Ixviii,  note  15 
(wrongly  as  to  2^),  and  repeated  from  Mother- 
well by  Chambers,  p.  310,  Whitelaw,  p.  81, 
Aytoun,  II,  342,  are  from  B  a. 

A.  The  heir  of  Linne,  a  Scots  lord,  took  to 
cards,  dice,  and  wine,  sold  his  lands  to  John  o 
the  Scales,  and  went  on  in  dissolute  ways  for 
three  fourths  of  a  year  longer ;  then  he  was 
forced  to  go  to  Edinburgh  and  beg  his  bread. 
Some  gave  him,  some  refused  him,  some  bade 
him  go  to  the  devil.  Brooding  over  his  desti- 
tution, he  remembered  that  his  father  had  left 
him  a  paper  which  he  was  not  to  look  into  till 
he  should  be  in  extreme  need.  This  paper 
told  him  of  a  castle  wall  in  which  stood  three 
chests  of  money.  Filling  three  bags  with 
gold,  he  went  to  John  o  Scales's  house.  John's 
wife  wished  herself  a  curse  if  she  trusted  him 
a  penny.  One  good  fellow  in  the  company 
offered  to  lend  him  forty  pence,  and  forty 
more,  if  wanted.  John  o  Scales  tendered  him 
his  lands  back  for  twenty  pounds  less  than 
they  had  been  sold  for.  The  heir  of  Linne 
called  the  lords  present  to  witness,  threw 
John  a  penny  to  bind  the  bargain,  and 
counted  out  the  money  from  his  bags.  Then 
he  gave  the  good  fellow  forty  pounds,  and 
made  him  keeper  of  his  forest,  and  beshrewed 
himself  if  ever  he  put  his  lands  in  jeopardy 
again. 

♦  Cane  in  hand,  lO^,  228.  This  is  bad  enough,  but  not 
quite  so  bad  as  the  woman  with  cane  in  hand, '  Tam  Lin,' 
III,  505, 0  162,  and  '  The  Kitchie-Boy,'  No  252,  E  e^.    The 


B.  The  heir  of  Linne  stands  at  his  father's 
gates,  and  nobody  asks  him  in.  He  is  hun- 
gry, wet,  and  cold.  As  he  goes  down  the 
town,  gentlemen  are  drinking.  Some  say, 
Give  him  a  glass ;  some  say.  Give  him  none. 
As  he  goes  up  the  town,  fishermen  are  sit- 
ting. Some  say,  Give  him  a  fish  ;  some  say. 
Give  him  a  fin.  He  takes  the  road  to  Linne,* 
and  on  the  way  begs  of  his  nurse  a  slice  of 
bread  and  a  bottle  of  wine,  promising  to  pay 
them  back  when  he  is  laird  of  Linne ;  which 
he  will  never  be,  she  says.  A  score  of  nobles 
are  dining  at  Linne.  Some  say,  Give  him 
beef,  some  say.  Give  him  the  bone ;  some  say. 
Give  him  nothing  at  all.  The  new  laird  will 
let  him  have  a  sip,  and  then  he  may  go  his 
gate.  At  his  wits'  end,  he  now  recalls  a  little 
key  given  him  by  his  mother  before  she  died, 
which  he  was  to  keep  till  he  was  in  his  great- 
est need.  This  key  fits  a  little  door  some- 
where in  the  castle.  He  gets  gold  enough  to 
free  his  lands.  He  returns  to  the  company 
of  nobles.  The  new  laird  offers  him  Linne 
back  for  a  third  of  what  had  been  paid  for  it. 
He  takes  the  guests  to  witness,  and  tells  the 
money  down  on  a  table.  He  pays  the  nurse 
for  her  bread  and  wine.  His  hose  had  been 
down  at  his  ankles ;  now  he  has  fifteen  lords 
to  escort  him.  f 

Percy,  Reliques,  1765,  II,  309,  1794,  II, 
128  (with  some  readings  of  his  manuscript 

mantle  and  cane  are  a  commonplace.    See  also  "E  14  of  No 
252,  No  76,  G  3,  and  No  97,  B  20^. 
t  The  Gallowgate  port  of  B  a  35  belongs  to  Aberdeen. 


t^ 


12 


26T.    THE  HEIR  OP   LINNE 


restored  in  the  later  edition),  as  he  puts  it, 
revised  and  completed  A  by  "  the  insertion  of 
supplemental  stanzas,"  "  suggested  by  a  mod- 
ern ballad  on  a  similar  subject."  In  fact, 
Percy  made  a  new  ballad,*  and  a  very  good 
one,  which,  since  his  day,  has  passed  for  '  The 
•^  Heir  of  Linne.'  (Herd,  1769,  p.  227,  but 
/  afterwards  dropped;  Ritson,  Scotish  Songs, 
II,  129 ;  Ritson,  Ancient  Songs  and  Ballads, 
1829,  II,  81,  with  a  protest ;  even  Chambers, 
p.  310,  Aytoun,  II,  342  ;  for  the  Scottish  ver- 
sion had  not  been  printed  when  these  collec- 
tions appeared.) 

The  modern  ballad  on  a  similar  subject 
used  by  Percy  was '  The  Drunkard's  Legacy,'  f 
an  inexpressibly  pitiable  ditty,  from  which 
Percy  did  not  and  could  not  take  a  line,  but 
only,  as  he  says,  a  suggestion  for  the  improve- 
ment of  the  story.  In  this,  a  gentleman  has 
a  thriftless  son  given  over  to  gaming  and 
drunkenness.  The  father,  foreseeing  his  ruin, 
builds  a  cottage  on  a  waste  plat  of  land,  with 
one  door,  fastened  by  a  spring-lock.  On  his 
death-bed  he  sends  for  his  son,  tells  him  of 
the  cottage,  and  directs  him,  after  he  has  lost 
all  his  friends  and  pawned  his  lands,  to  break 
open  the  door,  for  he  shall  find  something 
within  to  end  his  troubles.  After  the  father's 
death  the  son  spent  all  his  ready  money,  and 
then  pawned  his  lands  to  the  keeper  of  a  tav- 
ern which  he  had  frequented,  who,  in  the 
end,  kicked  him  out  of  doors.  Recalling  now 
his  father's  injunction,  the  son  broke  open  the 
cottage,  hoping  to  find  money.  He  saw  only 
'  a  gibbet  and  a  rope,'  and  a  stool  under  the 
rope.  He  mounted  the  stool,  put  the  rope 
round  his  neck,  and  jumped  off.  The  *  gibbet ' 
broke,  and  a  thousand  pound  in  gold  came 
tumbling  about  his  ears.  The  young  man, 
with  a  blessing  on  his  father,  vowed  to  give 
up  drinking.  He  went  to  the  vintner's,  and 
getting  a  rough  reception,  complained  of  his 
so  treating  a  man  who  had  pawned  to  him 
for  three  hundred  pounds  lands  bringing  in 
eight  score  pounds'  rent,  and  besides  had 
spent  the  money  in  that  shop.  The  vintner 
told  him  to  bring  a  hundred  pounds  the  next 

*0f  the  212  lines  of  Percy's  ballad,  some  80,  or  the  sub- 
stance of  them,  occur  in  the  MS.  copy,  and  half  a  dozen 
more  of  the  216  lines  of  the  4th  edition. 


day  and  take  the  lands  back.  The  young 
man  asked  a  note  to  this  effect,  which  was 
unsuspectingly  given.  He  then  went  and 
fetched  the  money,  bringing  with  him  a  com- 
rade, '  who  had  made  him  drink  when  money- 
less.' The  vintner  declared  that  he  had 
spoken  in  jest,  but '  this  young  man's  friend  ' 
urged  that  the  written  agreement  would '  cast ' 
him  in  law ;  so  the  vintner  had  to  take  the 
hundred  pounds  and  give  up  the  deeds,  and 
he  cut  his  throat  for  mortification.  From 
that  time  the  prodigal  lived  a  sober,  charita- 
ble life. 

Percy's  introduction  of  the  lonesome  lodge, 
the  hanging,  the  bursting  ceiling,  and  the 
father's  double  admonition,  is  an  improve- 
ment too  striking  to  require  or  bear  much 
comment.  It  is  very  far  from  certain  that  a 
young  reprobate,  who  has  spent  everything 
in  riotous  living,  will  be  turned  into  better 
courses  by  simply  coming  upon  more  money, 
as  in  the  traditional  ballad;  whereas  there 
is  a  very  fair  chance  that  the  moral  shock 
received  in  the  other  might  be  efficacious. 

There  are  several  Oriental  stories  which 
closely  resemble  that  of  '  The  Drunkard's 
Legacy,'  or  of  Percy's  '  Heir  of  Linne.' 

(1.)  Sinadab  was  left  by  his  father's  will 
free  to  dispose  of  a  large  property,  with  the 
exception  of  a  diminutive  garden,  at  the  end 
of  which  was  a  small  house.  This  he  was  on 
no  account  to  part  with.  He  indulged  in 
reckless  profusion,  and  in  about  two  years 
everything  was  spent.  The  friends  of  his 
affluent  days  abandoned  him,  —  all  but  one, 
who  gave  him  ten  sequins.  With  only  this 
in  hand  he  set  out  on  a  voyage  which  led  to 
adventures  which  may  be  passed  over.  They 
ended  in  his  coming  again  to  extreme  poverty. 
He  then  remembered  the  little  garden  which 
he  had  been  forbidden  to  sell.  He  found  a 
small  box  in  the  house,  and  eagerly  broke  it 
open.  There  was  nothing  in  it  but  a  rope, 
with  a  writing  in  his  father's  hand,  rebuking 
him  for  his  dissipation,  and  suggesting  that, 
if  he  had  sufficient  resolution,  he  might  put 
an  end  to  his  troubles  by  use  of  the  rope. 

t  Reprinted  by  Dixon,  Ancient  Poems,  Ballads,  etc.,  p.  \^ 
151,  Percy  Society,  vol.  xvii,  from  a  chap-book. 


26T.    THE  HEIR  OF  LINNE 


13 


Sinadab  accordingly  got  up  on  a  stool,  fastened 
the  rope  to  the  ceiling,  adjusted  a  noose  about 
his  neck,  and  pushed  back  the  stool.  The 
ceiling  gave  way,  and  he  was  covered  with  a 
shower  of  gold  pieces,  which  proved  to  be  only 
a  trifling  part  of  riches  concealed  above.  His 
career  after  this  was  serious  and  prudent. 
Gueulette,  'Les  mille  et  un  quart  d'heure,' 
Contes  Tartares,  Cabinet  des  Fdes,  XXI, 
66-70,  89-93. 

(2.)  Turkish.  A  merchant  took  his  son  to 
a  certain  house,  and  said.  If  you  waste  the 
wealth  I  leave,  do  not  beg,  but  get  a  rope  and 
hang  yourself  from  this  ring.  The  son  squan- 
dered his  inheritance  with  sycophants,  who 
reviled  him  after  he  was  stripped.  He  got  a 
rope,  went  to  the  house,  mounted  a  stool,  fas- 
tened one  end  of  the  rope  to  the  ring,  the 
other  about  his  neck,  and  threw  himself  from 
the  stool.  A  board  in  which  the  ring  was 
fastened  gave  way,  the  young  man  fell  to  the 
ground,  and  gold  and  jewels  came  pouring 
upon  him.  He  repented  of  his  profligacy, 
and  reformed  his  ways.  '  The  Forty  Vezirs,' 
Gibb,  p.  244  ;  Behrnauer,  p.  253. 

(3.)  Arabic.  A  man  charged  his  son  not 
to  beg  if  he  should  come  to  want,  for  he  had 
hidden  a  treasure  in  his  house,  which,  how- 
ever, he  was  not  to  resort  to  until  compelled 
by  dire  necessity.  After  his  father's  death, 
the  son,  without  delay,  broke  into  the  place 
where  the  treasure  had  been  said  to  be  con- 
cealed, but  found  only  an  empty  room,  with 
a  rope  hanging  from  the  ceiling.  Under  the 
rope  was  a  pile  of  bricks,  and  a  paper  rec- 
ommending him  to  get  up  on  the  bricks  and 
hang  himself.  The  young  man  went  off, 
and  with  the  assistance  of  parasites,  was  soon 
rid  of  all  his  wealth.  After  a  taste  of  the 
sharpness  of  poverty  and  of  the  baseness  of 
summer  friends,  he  went  to  the  room  where 
he  had  expected  to  find  the  treasure,  stepped 
on  the  pile  of  bricks,  tied  the  rope  round,  his 
neck,  and  kicked  away  the  bricks.  The  rope 
parted,  and  a  quantity  of  precious  things 
tumbled  from  overhead.  His  false  friends 
promptly  returned  with  prosperity,  but  were 
put  to  shame.  Tausend  und  eine  Nacht, 
Deutsch  von  Hkbicht,  v.  d.  Hagen  u.  Schall, 
1840,  XIV,  65-68. 


(4.)  The  same  story,  with  some  of  the  de- 
tails of  both  2  and  3,  in  Pauli's  Schimpf  und 
Ernst,  Oesterley,  p.  400,  from  the  edition  of 
1533.  In  Pauli's  tale,  the  young  man,  after 
a  year  of  exemplary  life  in  the  world,  gives 
all  his  goods  to  the  poor  and  turns  hermit. 

(5.)  Persian.  Atalmulc's  extravagances 
cause  his  father  great  anxiety.  The  father, 
when  near  his  end,  charges  his  son,  if  he 
should  be  so  unhappy  as  to  dissipate  the  for- 
tune he  will  receive,  to  hang  himself  to  a 
branch  of  a  tree  in  the  middle  of  the  garden. 
The  bough  breaks,  and  the  trunk  is  found  to 
be  f  uU  of  precious  stones.  Petis  de  la  Croix, 
Les  Mille  et  un  Jour,  Cabinet  des  F^es, 
XIV,  457. 

There  is  another  and  seemingly  an  inde- 
pendent story,  summarized  in  two  distichs  in 
the  Greek  Anthology  (IX,  44,  45,  translated 
by  Ausonius,  Epigrammata,  22,  23),  how  a 
man,  who  was  about  to  hang  himself,  found 
some  money,  and  left  his  rope  behind,  and 
how  the  owner  of  the  money,  coming  for  it 
and  not  finding  it,  hanged  himself  with  the 
rope.*  La  Fontaine's  fable,  '  Le  Tr^sor  et 
les  deux  Hommes,'  IX,  16,  is  this  story,  with 
a  wall  falling,  not  by  precontrivance,  but 
from  its  ruinous  condition. 

The  eighth  tale  in  the  ninth  decade  of 
Giraldi  Cinthio's  Hecatommithi,  1565,  II, 
563,  is  a  modification  of  what  may  be  called 
the  Greek  story.  "  Chera  hid  a  treasure. 
Elisa,  going  about  to  hang  herself,  and  tying 
the  halter  about  a  beam,  found  that  treasure, 
and  in  place  thereof  left  the  halter.  Philene, 
the  daughter  of  Chera,  going  for  that  treasure, 
and  busily  searching  for  the  same,  found  the 
halter,  wherewithal,  in  despair,  she  would  have 
hanged  herself,  but,"  etc.  (Painter's  argu- 
ment to  his  translation  of  Cinthio's  tale  in 
the  Palace  of  Pleasure,  2d  Tome  (1567),  11th 
novel,  ed.  Jacobs,  II,  264.) 

The  Greek  Syntipas  has  another  variety. 
A  man,  reduced  to  want,  takes  a  sword  and 
goes  to  a  lonely  place  to  end  his  misery. 
He  finds  in  a  deep  hole  or  fosse  a  quantity  of 
gold  which  has  been  hidden  there  by  a  cy- 


•  44.  Xpvvhv  iyiip  evpiiv  ^Atire  Pp6xov  '  avrkp  i  XP^'^^" 
ti>  \lirfv  ovx  (vpiiv  fi^fv  tv  (vpf  Pp6xov. 


14 


267.     THE   HEIR   OF  LINNB 


clops,  takes  it,  and  goes  back  to  his  house  very- 
happy.  The  Cyclops,  coming  to  the  spot  and 
not  finding  his  gold,  but  seeing  the  sword 
lying  about,  slays  himself.  Matthsei,  Syn- 
tipsB  Fabulse,  1781,  p.  38,  />"? ;  Coray,  iEsop, 
p.  246,  No  384.* 

A  tale  in  Anv^r-i  Suhailf  has  been  cited  in 
connection  with  the  foregoing,  which  has  only 
a  general  and  remote  resemblance  to  '  The 
Heir  of  Linne.'  A  wise  king,  perceiving  that 
his  two  unpromising  sons  would  misuse  his 
treasures,  buries  them  in  a  hermitage.  After 
his  death,  his  sons  quarrel  about  the  succession. 
The  younger  is  worsted,  and  brought  so  low 
that  he  abandons  the  world,  and  selects  this 


hermitage  for  his  retirement.  Here  he  learns 
wisdom  that  is  better  than  riches,  and  also 
discovers  the  buried  treasure.  Both  the  elder 
brother  and  a  king  with  whom  he  is  at  vari- 
ance are  killed  in  a  fight,  and  the  younger  is 
offered  a  double  kingdom.  (Chapter  i,  story 
n,  Eastwick,  p.  74;  also,  Contes  et  Fables 
Indiennes  de  Bidpa'i  et  de  Lokman  (Galland), 
Cabinet  des  F^es,  XVII,  122 ;  The  Fables  of 
Pilpay,  London,  1818,  p.  51.) 

Percy's  ballad  is  translated  by  Bodmer,  II, 
117,  and  by  Knortz,  Lieder  und  Romanzen 
Alt-Englands,  p.  78. 


A  in 

Percy  MS.,  p.  71;  Hales  and  Furnivall,  I,  174. 

1  Off  all  the  lords  in  f  aire  Scottland 

A  song  I  will  begin ; 
Amongst  them  all  there  dweld  a  lord 
Which,  was  the  vnthrif  ty  lord  of  Linne. 

2  His  father  and  mother  were  dead  him  froe, 

And  soe  was  the  head  of  all  his  kinne  ; 
To  the  cards  and  dice  that  he  did  run 
He  did  neither  cease  nor  bl[i]nne. 

3  To  drinke  the  wine  that  was  soe  cleere, 

With  euery  man  he  wold  make  merry ; 
And  then  hespake  him  lohn  of  the  Scales, 
Vnto  the  heire  of  Liime  sayd  hee. 

4  Sayes,  How  dost  thou,  Jjord  of  Linne  ? 

Doest  either  want  gold  or  fee  ? 
Wilt  thou  not  sell  thy  lands  soe  brode 
To  such  a  good  fellow  as  me  ? 

5  '  Ff  or  .  .  I  .  .  '  he  said, 

'  My  land,  take  it  vnto  thee ;  * 
'  I  draw  you  to  record,  my  lord[e]s  all ;  * 
With  that  he  cast  him  a  god's  peny. 

*  All  the  above  tales,  except  Pauli's,  have  been  cited,  in 
one  connection  or  another,  by  Dunlop,  History  of  Fiction, 
(II,  201,  of  Wilson's  late  edition) ;  by  Benfey,  Pantschatan- 
tra,  I,  97  f . ;  or  by  Liebrecht,  Gottingische  Gelehrte  Anzei- 
gen,  1868,  p.  1891.    Oesterley,  in  his  note  to  Pauli,  16,  p.  552 


6  He  told  him  the  gold  vpon  the  hord. 

It  wanted  neuer  a  bare  penny  : 
*  That  gold  is  thine,  the  land  is  mine. 
The  heire  of  Linne  I  wilbee.' 

7  '  Heere  's  gold  inoughe,'  saithe  the  heire  of 

Linne, 
'  Both  for  me  and  my  company  : ' 
He  drunke  the  wine  that  was  soe  cleere. 
And  With  euery  man  he  made  merry. 

8  With-in  three  quarters  of  a  yeere 

His  gold  and  fee  it  waxed  thiime, 
His  merry  men  were  from  him  gone, 
And  left  him  himself e  all  alone. 

9  He  had  neuer  a  peimy  left  in  his  pursse, 

Neuer  a  penny  [left]  but  three, 
And  one  was  hrasse,  and  another  was  lead, 
And  another  was  white  mony. 

10  '  Now  well-aday ! '  said  the  heire  of  linne, 

'  Now  welladay,  and  woe  is  mee  ! 
For  when  I  was  the  lord  of  Linne, 
I  neither  wanted  gold  nor  fee. 

11  '  For  I  haue  sold  my  lands  soe  broad, 

And  haue  not  left  me  one  penny ; 

f.,  refers  to  three  sixteenth-century  story-books  which  I  have 
not  seen.  Eobert,  Fables  Inedites,  etc.,  11,  232,  in  his  note 
to  La  Fontaine,  IX,  16,  refers  to  other  fabulists.  Clouston, 
Popular  Tales  and  Fictions,  II,  55,  gives  from  some  old 
magazine  a  story  after  the  pattern  of  the  Greek  distich. 


267.     THE   HEIR   OF   LINNE 


15 


I  must  goe  now  and  take  some  read 
Vnto  Edenborrow,  and  begg  my  bread.' 

12  He  had  not  beene  in  Edenborrow 

Not  three  qwarters  of  a  yeere, 
But  some  did  giue  him,  and  some  said  nay, 
And  some  bid  '  to  the  deele  gang  yee ! 

13  *  For  if  we  shold  hang  any  landles  f  eer, 

The  first  we  wold  begin  w*th  thee.' 
'  Now  welladay  ! '  said  the  heire  of  Linne, 

*  No[w]  welladay,  and  woe  is  mee ! 

14  *  For  now  I  have  sold  my  lands  soe  broad, 

That  mery  man  is  irke  wtth  mee ; 

But  when  thai  I  was  the  \ord  of  Linne, 

Then  on  my  land  I  liued  merrily. 

15  *  And  now  I  have  sold  my  land  soe  broade 

That  I  haue  not  left  me  one  pennye  ! 
God  be  with  my  father  ! '  he  said, 

*  On  his  land  he  liued  merrily.' 

16  Still  in  a  study  there  as  he  stood. 

He  vnbethought  him  of  [a]  bill ; 
He  vnbethought  him  of  [a]  bill 
WAich  his  father  had  left  with  him. 

17  Bade  him  he  shold  neuer  on  it  looke 

Till  he  was  in  extreame  neede, 
'  And  by  my  faith,'  said  the  heire  of  linne, 
'  Then  now  I  had  neuer  more  neede.' 

18  He  tooke  the  bill,  and  looked  it  on. 

Good  comfort  that  he  found  there ; 
Itt  told  him  of  a  castle  wall 

Where  there  stood  three  chests  in  feare. 

19  Two  were  fuU  of  the  beaten  gold, 

The  third  was  full  of  white  mony  ; 
He  turned  then  downe  his  baggs  of  bread. 
And  filled  them  full  of  gold  soe  red. 

20  Then  he  did  neuer  cease  nor  blinne 

Till  lohn  of  the  Scales  house  he  did  winne. 
When  that  he  came  to  lohn  of  the  Scales, 
Vpp  at  the  speere  he  looked  then. 

21  There  sate  three  lords  vpon  a  rowe. 

And  lohn  o  the  Scales  sate  at  the  bord^s 
head. 
And  lohn  o  the  Scales  sate  at  the  bord's  head. 
Because  he  was  the  lore?  of  Linne. 


22  And  then  bespake  the  heire  of  Linne, 

To  lohn  o  the  Scales'  wiffe  thus  sayd  hee  : 
Sayd,  Dame,  wUt  thou  not  trust  me  one  shott 
That  I  may  sitt  downe  in  this  company  ? 

23  *  Now,  Christ's  curse  on  my  head,'  shee  said, 

'  If  I  doe  trust  thee  one  pennye ;  ' 
Then  be-spake  a  good  f  ellowe, 

'Which,  sate  by  lohn  o  the  Scales  his  knee. 

24  Said,  Haue  thou  here,  thou  heire  of  Liime, 

Forty  pence  I  wiU  lend  thee  ; 
Some  time  a  good  fellow  thou  hast  beene ; 
And  other  forty  if  neede  bee. 

25  Th^  dru[n]ken  wine  that  was  soe  cleere. 

And  euery  man  th^  made  merry ; 
And  then  bespake  him  lohn  o  the  Scales, 
Vnto  the  lore?  of  Linne  said  hee. 

26  Said,  How  doest  thou,  heire  of  Linne, 

Since  I  did  buy  thy  lands  of  thee  ? 
I  will  sell  it  to  thee  twenty  pound  better  cheepe 
Nor  euer  I  did  buy  it  of  thee. 

27  *  I  draw  you  to  recorde,  lord[e]s  all,' 

With  that  he  cast  him  [a]  god's  penny; 
Then  he  tooke  to  his  baggs  of  bread, 
And  they  were  fuU  of  the  gold  soe  redd. 

28  He  told  him  the  gold  then  over  the  borde, 

It  wanted  neuer  a  broad  pennye  : 
*  That  gold  is  thine,  the  land  is  mine, 
And  the  heire  of  Linne  againe  I  wilbee.' 

29  '  Now  welladay ! '  said  lohn  o  the  Scales'  wife, 

'  Welladay,  and  woe  is  me  ! 
Yesterday  I  was  the  lady  of  Linne, 

And  now  I  am  but  lohn  o  the  Scales'  wifEe ! ' 

30  Sales,  Haue  thou  heere,  thou  good  fellow. 

Forty  pence  thou  did  lend  me. 
Forty  pence  thou  did  lend  me, 
And  forty  pound  I  will  giue  thee. 

31  *  He  make  thee  keeper  of  my  f  orrest 

Both  of  the  wild  deere  and  the  tame,' 


32  But  then  bespake  the  heire  of  Linne, 

These  were  the  words,  and  thus  said  hee, 
Christs  curse  light  vpon  my  crowne 
If  ere  my  land  stand  in  any  ieopardye  ! 


16 


267.    THE  HEIR  OF  LINNE 


r 


B 


a.    Buchan's  MSS,  I,  40.    b.    Buchan's  MSS,  H, 
114.     c.     Christie's  Traditional  Ballad  Airs,  I,  112. 

1  '  The  bonny  heir,  and  the  well-f aird  heir, 

And  the  weary  heir  o  Linne, 
Yonder  he  stands  at  his  father's  yetts, 
And  naebody  bids  him  come  in. 

2  '  0  see  for  he  gangs,  an  see  for  he  stands. 

The  weary  heir  o  Linne  ! 
0  see  for  he  stands  on  the  cauld  casey, 
And  nae  an  bids  him  come  in ! 

3  *  But  if  he  had  been  his  father's  heir, 

Or  yet  the  heir  o  Linne, 
He  wadna  stand  on  the  cauld  casey. 
Some  an  woud  taen  him  in.' 

4  *  Sing  ower  again  that  sang,  nourice, 

The  sang  ye  sung  just  now  ;  * 

'  I  never  sung  a  sang  in  my  life 

But  I  woud  sing  ower  to  you. 

6  *  O  see  for  he  gangs,  an  see  for  he  stands, 
The  weary  heir  o  Linne ! 
0  see  for  he  stands  on  the  cauld  casey, 
An  nae  an  bids  him  come  in  ! 

6  *  But  if  he  had  been  his  father's  heir, 

Or  yet  the  heir  o  Linne, 
He  woudna  stand  on  the  cauld  casye, 
Some  an  woud  taen  him  in. 

7  *  When  his  father's  lands  a  selling  were, 

His  claise  lay  well  in  fauld. 
But  now  he  wanders  on  the  shore, 
Baith  hungry,  weet,  and  cauld.' 

8  As  WiUie  he  gaed  down  the  town. 

The  gentlemen  were  drinking  ; 
Some  bade  gie  Willie  a  glass,  a  glass, 

And  some  bade  him  gie  nane, 
Some  bade  gie  WiUie  a  glass,  a  glass, 

The  weary  heir  o  Linne. 

9  As  Willie  he  came  up  the  town, 

The  fishers  were  a'  sitting ; 
Some  bade  gie  Willie  a  fiish,  a  fish, 

Some  bade  gie  him  a  fin, 
Some  bade  gie  him  a  fish,  a  fish, 

And  lat  the  palmer  gang. 


10  He  turned  him  right  and  round  about. 

As  will  as  a  woman's  son, 
And  taen  his  cane  into  his  hand, 
Ajid  on  his  way  to  Linne. 

11  His  nourice  at  her  window  lookd, 

Beholding  dale  and  down, 
And  she  beheld  this  distressd  young  man 
Come  walking  to  the  town. 

12  '  Come  here,  come  here,  Willie,'  she  said, 

'  And  rest  yoursel  wi  me ; 

I  hae  seen  you  in  better  days, 

And  in  jovial  companie.' 

13  '  Gie  me  a  sheave  o  your  bread,  nourice, 

And  a  bottle  o  your  wine. 
And  I  '11  pay  you  it  a'  ower  again. 
When  I  'm  the  laird  o  Linne.' 

14  '  Ye  'se  get  a  sheave  o  my  bread,  Willie, 

And  a  bottle  o  my  wine, 
But  ye  '11  pay  me  when  the  seas  gang  dry. 
For  ye  '11  neer  be  heir  o  Linne.' 

15  Then  he  turnd  him  right  and  round  about, 

As  will  as  woman's  son, 
And  aff  he  set,  and  bent  his  way. 
And  straightway  came  to  Linne. 

16  But  when  he  came  to  that  castle, 

They  were  set  down  to  dine  ; 
A  score  o  nobles  there  he  saw, 
Sat  drinking  at  the  wine. 

17  Then  some  bade  gie  him  beef,  the  beef. 

And  some  bade  gie  him  the  bane  ; 
And  some  bade  gie  him  naething  at  a'. 
But  lat  the  palmer  gang. 

18  Then  out  it  speaks  the  new-come  laird, 

A  saucy  word  spake  hee  ; 
'  Put  round  the  cup,  gie  my  rival  a  sup, 
Let  him  fare  on  his  way.' 

19  Then  out  it  speaks  Sir  Ned  Magnew, 

Ane  o  young  WUlie's  kin ; 
'  This  youth  was  ance  a  sprightly  boy 
As  ever  lived  in  Linne.' 

20  He  turned  him  right  and  round  about. 

As  wUl  as  woman's  son, 
Then  minded  him  on  a  little  wee  key. 
That  his  mother  left  to  him. 


267.    THE  HEIR  OP  LINNB 


17 


21  His  mother  left  [him]  this  little  wee  key 

A  little  before  she  died ; 
And  bade  him  keep  this  little  wee  key 
Till  he  was  in  maist  need. 

22  Then  forth  he  went,  these  nobles  left, 

All  drinkin'  in  the  room, 
Wi  walking  rod  intill  his  hand, 
He  walked  the  castle  roun. 

23  There  he  found  out  a  little  door. 

For  there  the  key  slipped  in, 
And  there  [he]  got  as  muckle  red  gowd 
As  freed  the  lands  o  Linne. 

24  Back  through  the  nobles  then  he  went, 

A  saucy  man  was  then : 
'  I  '11  take  the  cup  frae  this  new-come  laird, 
For  he  neer  bade  me  sit  down.* 

25  Then  out  it  speaks  the  new-come  laird, 

He  spake  wi  mock  an  jeer ; 
*  I  'd  gie  a  seat  to  the  laird  o  Linne, 
Sae  be  that  he  were  here. 

26  *  When  the  lands  o  Linne  a  selling  were, 

A'  men  said  they  were  free ; 
This  lad  shall  hae  them  frae  me  this  day, 
If  he  '11  gie  the  third  pennie.' 

27  *  I  take  ye  witness,  nobles  a*. 

Guide  witnesses  ye  '11  be ; 
I  'm  promisd  the  lands  o  Linne  this  day, 
If  I  gie  the  third  pennie.' 

28  *  Ye  've  taen  us  witness,  Willie,*  they  said, 

'  Guide  witnesses  we  '11  be ; ' 


*  Buy  the  lands  o  Linne  who  likes. 

They  'U  neer  be  bought  by  thee.* 

29  He  *s  done  him  to  a  gaming-table, 

For  it  stood  fair  and  clean  ; 
There  he  tauld  down  as  much  rich  gowd 
As  freed  the  lands  o  Linne. 

30  Thus  having  done,  he  tumd  about, 

A  saucy  man  was  he  ; 

*  Take  up  your  monie,  my  lad,'  he  says, 

*  Take  up  your  third  pennie. 

31  *  Aft  hae  I  gane  wi  baref eet  cauld. 

Likewise  wi  legs  full  bare, 
An  mony  days  walkd  at  these  yetts 
Wi  muckle  dool  and  care. 

32  '  But  now  my  sorrow 's  past  and  gane, 

And  joy  's  returned  to  me, 
And  here  I  've  gowd  enough  f  orbye, 
Ahin  this  third  pennie.' 

33  As  Willie  he  gaed  down  the  town. 

There  he  crawd  wonderous  crouse  ; 
He  calld  the  may  afore  them  a', 
The  nourice  o  the  house, 

34  *  Come  here,  come  here,  my  nurse,'  he  says, 

*  I  'U  pay  your  bread  and  wine  ; 
Seas  ebb  and  flow  [as]  they  wont  to  do. 

Yet  I  'm  the  laird  o  Linne.' 

35  As  he  gaed  up  the  Gallowgate  port. 

His  hose  abeen  his  sheen ; 
But  lang  ere  he  came  down  again 
Was  convoyed  by  lords  fifeteen. 


A.  2.  The  third  and  fourth  lines  are  fourth  and 

third. 
3.  There  is  probably  a  gap  after  the  second  line. 
b\  Ff or  wanting :  supplied  from  the  bottom  of 

the  preceding  page. 
5*.  a  good-se.     7^.  Lime. 
S\  9«,  12S  18*,  19^  21^  3.     131.  ^^nd  self eer. 
16^^  has  bis  prefixed  to  it.     19^  2.     20^  blime. 
20^.  Scalels  :  misprint  ?    21^  ?ias  bis  prefixed. 
20,  21,  are  written  together. 

VOL.  V.  3 


24**,  30*».  40.    26«.  20".    28*,  32*.  Lime. 
30»  m/zrked  bis.    30*.  401. 
B.  a.  91    a;  b,all.     U**.  o  your. 
14*.  Butye'll:c/.  b. 

23'.  For  there ;  perhaps  simply  For  (  =  Where). 
b.  1  wanting.    2'.  on  that.    2',  3',  5',  6",  causey. 
4*.  that  sang  again. 
6*.  if  ye,  wrongly.     13,  lA:  follow  6. 
7  wanting.     9'.  were  all. 
9'.  And  some :  gie  'm.     10-12  wanting. 


18 


36T.     THE   HEIR   OF  LINNB 


%' 


13^.  twa  sheaves.     13'.  And  ae  glass. 

13*.  And  I  will  pay  you  them  back  again. 

13*.  The  day  I  'm  heir  of.    14^.  get  three  sheaves. 

14'^.  And  twa  glass. 

14^  But  I  '11  be  paid :  sea  gangs.    14*.  For  ye  '11. 

15-19  wanting. 

20^'  ^.  As  Willie  was  sitting  one  day  alane, 

And  nae  body  him  wi. 
20*.  He  minded  on. 
20*.  That 's  mither  to  him  did  gie. 
20^'  *.  Bade  him  never  open  a  lock  wi  it 

Ere  the  greatest  strait  he  could  see. 
21,  22  wanting. 

23.  Then  he  did  spy  a  little  wee  lock, 
And  the  key  gied  linking  in, 
And  he  got  goud  and  money  therein 
To  pay  the  lands  o  Linne. 
24-32  wanting. 
35,  33,  34,  for  33-35. 
33^'  '^.  When  Willie  he  came  to  the  ha, 

There  he  cried  out  wonderous  crouse. 
Come  down,  come  down,  nourice,  he  said. 
Ere  I  pay  you  your. 

For  ye  will  be  paid  ere  the  seas  gang  dry. 
For  this  day  I  'm  heir. 
As  Willie  he  gied  down  the  town. 
But  when  that  he  came  up  again. 
Both  Motherwell  in  copying  the  ballad  (which 
he  in  all  likelihood  received  from  Buchan), 
and  Dixon  in  printing  it,  made  a  few  changes : 
as  (Motherwell)  the  northern  for  in  2^'%  to 
I      whare,  but  not  in  29^,  where  for  a^so=where. 
/.  "  The  editor  can  trace  the  air  and  ballad  here 
given  as  far  back  as  1775,  through  an  aged  rel- 
ative who  died  in  1842  in  her  eightieth  year, 
and  who  had  it  from  her  mother."     Christie 
neither  professed  nor  practised  a  rigid  fidel- 
ity to  texts,  and  this  copy,  at  best  not  a  valtt- 
dble  one,'  is  given  for  the  little  it  may  be 
worth. 

1  O  YONDER  he  stands,  and  there  he  gangs, 

The  weary  heir  o  Linne, 
Yonder  he  stands  on  the  cauld  causey, 
And  nane  bids  him  come  in. 

2  But  it  fell  ance  upon  a  day 

The  sheets  were  laid  in  fauld. 
And  poor  Willie  found  he  had  nae  friends, 
And  it  was  wondrous  cauld. 

3  '  Oh,  one  sheave  o  your  bread,  nourice, 

And  one  glass  o  your  wine, 


34^ 
34'. 
34«. 
34*. 
351. 
35«. 


And  I  will  pay  you  oer  again 
When  I  am  laird  0  Linne.'  ' 

4  *  Oh,  one  sheave  o  my  bread,  Willie, 

And  one  glass  o  my  wine, 
But  the  seas  will  be  dry  ere  ye  pay  me  again, 
For  ye  '11  never  be  laird  o  Linne.* 

5  But  he  mind't  him  up,  and  he  mind't  him  down, 

And  he  mind't  him  oer  again, 
And  he  mind't  him  on  a  little  wee  key 
That  his  mother  gae  to  him. 

6  He  did  him  to  the  house  o  Linne, 

He  sought  it  up  and  down, 
And  there  he  found  a  little  wee  door. 
And  the  key  gaed  slippin  in. 

7  And  he  got  gowd,  and  he  got  gear. 

He  got  gowd  stord  within. 
And  he  got  gowd,  and  he  got  gear, 
Thrice  worth  the  lands  o  Linne. 

8  He  did  him  to  the  tavern  straight, 

Where  nobles  were  drinking  therein ; 
The  greatest  noble  among  them  a' 
Was  near  to  WiUie  o  kin. 

9  And  some  of  them  bade  him  fish  to  eat, 

And  some  of  them  bade  him  a  fin. 
And  some  of  them  bade  him  nothing  at  a', 
For  he  'd  never  be  father's  son. 

10  But  out  it  spake  an  aged  knicht, 

And  vow  but  he  spake  slie  I 
'  I  '11  sell  you  your  father's  land  back  again 
All  for  the  third  pennie.' 

11  'I  take  witness  upon  you  here,'  he  says, 

*  I  take  witness  upon  thee. 
That  you  will  sell  me  my  father's  land  again 
All  for  the  third  pennie.' 

12  Then  he  took  out  a  little  wee  coffer, 

And  he  set  it  on  his  knee, 
And  he  told  the  goud  down  on  the  table  roun, 
Says,  Tak  up  your  third  pennie. 

13  *  Come  ben,  come  ben,  my  good  nourice, 

I  '11  pay  you  when  you  come  ben  ; 
For  the  seas  are  not  dry,  and  I  '11  pay  you  back 
again. 
For  I  'm  again  the  laird  0  Linne.' 

14  Poor  Willie  that  night  at  eight  o'clock 

Had  his  stockings  abeen  his  sheen, 
But  ere  the  morrow  at  twelve  o'clock 
He  was  convoyd  by  lords  sixteen. 


267.    THE   HEIR   OF  LINNE 


19 


APPENDIX 


(From  a  Broadside  among  Percy's  Papers.) 

THE  DRUNKARD'S  LEGACY 

IN  THKEE  PARTS 

Part  I 

1  Young  people  all  I  pray  draw  near, 
And  listen  to  my  ditty  here, 

Which  subject  shews  that  drunkenness 
Brings  many  mortals  to  distress. 

2  As  for  example  now  I  can 
Tell  you  of  one,  a  gentleman, 
Who  had  a  very  good  estate  ; 

His  earthly  travels  they  were  great. 

3  We  understand  he  had  a  son 
Who  a  lewd  wicked  race  did  run ; 
He  daily  spent  his  father's  store. 
When  moneyless  he  came  for  more. 

4  The  father  oftentimes  with  tears 
Would  sound  this  alarm  in  his  ears : 

♦  Son,  thou  dost  all  thy  comforts  blast, 
And  thou  wilt  come  to  want  at  last.' 

5  The  son  these  words  did  little  mind  ; 
To  cards  and  dice  he  was  inclind, 
Feeding  his  drunken  appetite 

In  taverns,  which  was  his  delight 

6  The  father,  ere  it  was  too  late, 
He  had  a  project  in  his  pate, 
Before  his  aged  days  were  gone 
To  make  provision  for  his  son. 

7  Near  to  his  house,  we  understand, 
.  He  had  a  waste  plat  of  land, 

Which  did  but  little  profit  yield. 
On  which  he  had  a  cottage  built. 

8  '  The  Wise-Man's  Project '  was  its  name  ; 
There  was  few  windows  in  the  same ; 
Only  one  door,  substanti[a]l  thing, 

Shut  by  a  lock  went  by  a  spring. 

9  Soon  after  he  had  playd  this  trick, 
It  was  his  lot  for  to  fall  sick ; 

As  on  his  bed  he  did  lament. 
Then  for  his  drunken  son  he  sent. 

10  Who,  sent  for,  came  to  his  bed-side  ; 
Seeing  his  son,  he  then  reply'd, 

*  I  sent  for  you  to  make  my  will. 
Which  do  you  faithfully  fulfil. 


11  *  To  such  one  cottage  is  one  door; 
Neer  open  it,  do  thou  be  sure, 
Until  thou  art  so  poor  that  all 

Do  then  despise  you,  great  and  small. 

12  *  For  to  my  grief  I  do  perceive 
When  I  am  dead  this  life  you  live 
Will  soon  melt  all  thou  hast  away  : 
Do  not  forget  these  words,  I  pray. 

IS  '  When  thou  hast  made  thy  friends  thy  foes, 
Pawnd  all  thy  lands,  and  sold  thy  cloaths. 
Break  ope  the  door,  and  there  depend 
To  find  something  thy  grief  to  end.' 

14  Thus  being  spoke,  the  son  did  say. 
Your  dying  words  I  will  obey  ; 
Soon  after  this  his  father  dear 
Did  die  &nd  buried  was,  we  hear. 

Part  H 

15  Now  pray  observe  the  second  part, 
And  you  shall  hear  his  sottish  heart : 
He  did  in  taverns  so  frequent 

Till  he  three  hundred  pounds  had  spent, 

16  This  being  done,  we  understand 
He  pawnd  the  deeds  of  all  his  land 
Unto  a  tavern-keeper,  who 

"When  poor  did  him  no  favour  shew. 

17  For  to  fulfil  his  father's  will 

He  did  command  this  cottage  still ; 
At  length  great  sorrow  was  his  share, 
Quite  moneyless,  with  garments  bare. 

18  Being  not  able  for  to  work. 

He  in  the  tavern  there  did  lurk, 
From  box  to  box,  among  rich  men, 
Who  often  times  revil'd  him  then. 

19  To  see  him  sneak  so  up  and  down. 
The  vintner  on  him  he  did  frown. 
And  one  night  kickd  him  out  of  door, 
Charging  him  to  come  there  no  more. 

20  He  in  a  stall  did  lie  all  night, 

In  this  most  sad  and  w[r]etched  plight ; 
Then  thought  it  was  high  time  for  he 
His  father's  legacy  to  see. 

21  Next  morning,  then,  opprest  with  woe. 
This  young  man  got  an  iron  crow. 
And,  as  in  tears  he  did  lament. 

Unto  this  little  cottage  went. 

22  When  he  this  door  had  open  got. 
This  poor  distressed  drunken  sot. 
Who  did  for  store  of  money  hope, 
He  saw  a  gibbet  and  a  rope. 


20 


267.    THE  HEIR  OF  LINNE 


23  Under  this  rope  was  plac'd  a  stool, 
Which  made  him  look  much  like  a  fool, 
Crying,  Alas,  what  shall  I  do  ! 
Destruction  now  appears  in  view. 

24  *  As  my  father  foresaw  this  thing, 
What  sottishness  to  me  would  bring, 
As  moneyless  and  free  of  grace. 
This  legacy  I  will  embrace.' 

25  So  then,  opprest  with  discontent. 
Upon  the  stool  he  sighing  went, 
And  then,  his  precious  life  to  check, 
Did  place  this  rope  about  his  neck. 

26  Crying,  Thou  God,  who  sittst  on  high, 
Who  on  my  sorrows  hast  an  eye. 

But  thou  knowst  I  have  not  done  well. 
Preserve  my  precious  soul  from  hell. 

27  *  'T  is  true  the  slighting  of  thy  grace 
Brought  me  to  this  most  wretched  case, 
And  as  thro  folly  I  'm  undone, 

I  '11  now  eclipse  my  morning  sun.' 

28  When  he  with  sigh  had  these  words  spoke, 
Jumpt  off,  and  down  the  gibbet  broke  ; 

In  falling,  as  it  plain  appears, 

Droppd  down  about  this  young  man's  ears, 

29  In  shining  gold,  a  thousand  pound. 
Which  made  the  blood  his  ears  surround  : 
Tho  in  amaze,  he  cry'd,  I  'm  sure 

This  golden  salve  will  heal  the  sore. 

30  *  Blest  be  my  father,'  then  he  cry'd, 
'  Who  did  this  portion  for  me  hide, 
And  while  I  do  alive  remain 

I  never  will  be  drunk  again.' 


Part  m 

31  Now  by  [the]  third  part  you  will  hear 
This  young  man,  as  it  does  appear. 
With  care  he  then  secur'd  his  chink. 
And  to  this  vintner  went  to  drink. 

32  When  the  proud  vintner  did  him  see. 
He  frownd  on  him  immediately. 
And  said.  Begone,  or  else  with  speed 
I  '11  kick  thee  out  of  doors  indeed. 

33  With  smiles  the  young  man  he  did  say. 
Thou  cruel  knave,  tell  me,  I  pray. 

As  I  have  here  consum'd  my  store, 
What  makes  thee  kick  me  out  of  door  ? 

84  To  me  thou  hast  been  too  severe  ; 
The  deeds  of  eight-score  pounds  a  year 
I  pawnd  them  for  three  hundred  pound ; 
Which  I  spent  here  ;  what  makes  thee  frown  ? 


35  The  vintner  said  unto  him.  Sirrah, 

Bring  me  one  hundred  pounds  tomorrow 
By  nine  o'clock,  take  them  again  : 
So  get  you  out  of  doors  till  then. 

86  He  answerd.  If  this  chink  I  bring, 
I  fear  thou  wilt  do  no  such  thing  ; 
He  said,  I  '11  give  under  mine  hand 
A  note  that  I  to  this  will  stand. 

87  Having  the  note,  away  he  goes, 
And  straightway  went  to  one  of  those 
Who  made  him  drink  when  moneyless, 
And  did  the  truth  to  him  confess. 

88  They  both  went  to  this  heap  of  gold, 
Wherre  in  a  bag  he  fairly  told 

A  thousand  pounds  in  yellow  boys. 
And  to  this  tavern  went  their  ways. 

89  This  bag  they  on  the  table  set. 
Which  made  the  vintner  for  to  fret. 
And  said,  Young  man,  this  will  not  do. 
For  I  was  but  in  jest  with  you. 

40  So  then  bespoke  this  young  man's  friend, 
And  [said],  Vintner,  thou  mayst  depend 
In  law  this  note  it  will  you  cast. 

And  he  must  have  his  land  at  last. 

41  This  made  the  vintner  to  comply. 
Who  fetchd  the  deeds  immediately  ; 
He  had  one  hundred  pounds,  and  then 
The  young  man  got  his  deeds  again. 

42  At  length,  the  vintner,  for  to  think 
How  he  was  foold  out  of  his  chink, 
Said,  When  't  is  found  how  I  came  off 
My  neighbours  will  me  game  and  scoff. 

48  So,  to  prevent  their  game  and  laughter. 
The  vintner,  in  a  few  days  after. 
Being  void  of  grace,  as  will  appear, 
He  cut  his  throat  from  ear  to  ear. 

44  Thus  he  untimely  left  the  world. 
Who  to  this  young  man  prov'd  a  churl ; 
Now  he  who  followd  drunkenness 
Lives  sober  and  [does]  his  lands  possess. 

45  Instead  of  wasting  all  his  store. 
As  formerly,  resolves  no  more 

To  act  the  same,  but  does  inde[e]d 
Poor  fatherless  and  mother-  feed. 

46  *  And  let  all  young  men,  for  my  sake, 
Take  care  how  you  such  havock  make. 
For  drunkenness,  you  plain  may  see, 
Was  near  my  ruin  for  to  be.' 

Printed  and  sold  in  Bow-Church-Yard,  London. 


268.    THE  TWA  KNIGHTS 


21 


268 
THE  TWA  KNIGHTS        ^  ' 

Buchan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  U,  271. 


'r. 


A  KNIGHT  and  a  squire,  sworn  brothers, 
have  a  talk  about  fair  women.  *  There  's  nae 
gude  women  but  nine,'  says  the  squire.  *  My 
luck  is  the  better,'  replies  the  knight,  *that 
one  of  them  is  mine.'  The  squire  undertakes 
to  win  the  knight's  wife  within  six  months,  if 
the  husband  will  go  over  seas  for  that  time ; 
the  knight  is  willing  to  give  him  nine  months. 
The  knight's  lands  are  wagered  (21)  against 
the  squire's  life  (23).  As  soon  as  the  knight 
is  at  sea,  the  squire  comes  to  the  lady  with  an 
offer  of  money.  If  you  were  not  my  lord's 
brother,  says  the  lady,  I  would  hang  you  on  a 
pin  before  my  door.  The  squire  betakes  him- 
self to  his  foster-mother,  sets  forth  his  case, 
and  offers  her  a  heavy  bribe  for  her  aid.  The 
false  carline  goes  to  the  lady  and  opens  her 
business ;  the  lady  will  never  wrong  her  lord. 
The  carline  (who  is  the  wife's  foster-mother 
as  well)  now  pretends  concern  about  the 
lady's  health,  which  is  in  danger  for  want  of 
sleep.  She  turns  all  the  people  out  of  the 
castle,  lulls  the  dame  to  sleep,  and  introduces 
the  squire.  He  wakes  the  lady,  and  tells  her 
that  she  is  in  his  power.  The  lady  has  pres- 
ence of  mind ;  it  would,  she  says,  be  a  sin  to 
defile  her  husband's  bed,  but  she  will  come  to 
the  squire's  bed  at  night.  She  then  offers 
her  niece  five  hundred  pounds  to  go  to  the 
squire  in  her  place.  The  young  woman  was 
never  so  much  disposed  to  say  nay,  but  goes, 
notwithstanding.  When  the  squire  has  had 
his  will,  he  cuts  off  '  her  ring  but  and  her  ring- 
finger.'  The  maids  come  from  the  hay,  the 
young  men  from  the  corn,  and  the  lady  tells 
them  all  that  has  passed.  She  will  tie  her 
finger  in  the  dark,  and  hopes  to  loose  it  in 
the  light.     The  knight  returns,  and  is  greeted 


by  the  squire  as  a  landless  lord.  The  ring 
and  ring-finger  are  exhibited  in  proof.  There- 
upon the  knight  gives  a  dinner,  to  which  he 
asks  the  squire  and  his  wife's  parents.  He 
throws  his  charters  across  the  table  and  bids 
his  wife  farewell  forever.  It  is  now  time  for 
the  lady  to  loose  in  the  light  the  finger  which 
she  had  tied  in  the  dark.  Come  here,  my 
lord,  she  says.  No  smith  can  join  a  finger. 
My  niece  '  beguiled  the  squire  for  me.'  They 
lay  before  the  niece  a  sword  and  a  ring,  and 
she  is  to  have  her  choice,  to  stick  the  squire 
with  the  sword,  or  to  wed  him  with  the  ring. 
Thrice  she  puts  out  her  hand  as  if  to  take  the 
sword,  but  she  ends  with  taking  up  the  ring. 

This  ballad  can  have  had  no  currency  in   ! 
Scotland,  and  perhaps  was  known  only  through 
print.     A  similar  one  is  strictly  traditional  in         , 
Greece,  and   widely   dispersed,   both  on  the 
mainland  and  among  the  islands. 

Bomaic.     A.     NcocAAiyvixa  *  AvoXc/cto,  I,  80, 
No    16,   75    VV.,    Melos.      B.      *  To  arroixnit^  rov 

PaariXia  koi  tov  Mavpiavov,'  Jeannaraki,  p.  231, 
No  294,  76  w.,  Crete.  C.  <  'O  Maupiavos  kuI  6 
/Sao-tXcr's,'  Zampelios,  p.  719,  No  6,  61  vv.,  Cor- 
cyra  (?) ;  repeated  in  Passow,  p.  355,  No  474, 
Kind's  Anthologie,  p.  56.  D.  '  Tov  Mavpiavo- 
■irovXov,'  Manousos,  II,  56,  51  vv.,  Corcyra  (?). 
E.  *  'O  Mavptavos  /c'  o  /Sao-tXcas,'  Pappadopoulos 
in  IlavSwpa,  XV,  417, 23  vv.,  Cargese,  Corsica; 
repeated  in  Legrand,   p.  302,   No  136.     P. 

AcXtiov  t^s    ioTopiiajs   koX  i6vo\oyiKrj<;  eraipias    t^s 

'EXXciSos,  I,  551,  No  5,  35  vv.,  Peloponnesus. 
G.  *  'O  Sravptavos  koL  6  /Soo-tXiSs,'  Melandrakes, 
in  the  same.  III,  345,  54  vv.,  Patmos.     H. 

'  To  %Toixni^a,'  Kanellakes,  Xmko.  dvaXcKxa,  p.  8, 
No  5,  50  w.,  Chios.  I  a.  Bartholdy,  Bruch- 
stiicke   zur  nahern  Kenntniss   des   heutigen 


22 


a68.     THE  TWA  KNIGHTS 


Griechenlands,  1805,  p.  434, 78  vv.,  translation 
without  text.  b.  '  Maurog^ne,'  Lemercier,  I, 
167,  translation  without  text,  neighborhood 

of   Arta.      J.      '  ^TOixrjfJ^o,  Aiovv  Koi   XavTO-apX^,' 

Chasiotes,  p.  142,  No  14,  26  w.,  Epirus. 

The  personages  are  Maupiavos,  B-E,  Mauytavos, 
A,  Mavrogeni,  I,  ^ravpLavos,  G-,  TLdvvo<s,  P,  Kw- 
(TTavrJ}9,  H ;  his  sister,  A-I,  'Apeny,  D,  Mapu,  P, 
Aieprj,  Gr,  and  in  I  b  (unless  the  name  is  sup- 
plied by  the  editor),  Cymodore;  a  king,  anon- 
ymous except  in  J,  Atovus,  in  which  also  the 
other  two  parties  are  husband  (6  x'^vra-iapXTJ^, 
the  chancellor)  and  wife. 
yy^\^  At  the  king's  table  there  is  talk  of  women 

fair  or  foul.  Maurianos  extols  his  sister  (the 
chancellor  his  wife,  I),  whom  gifts  cannot  se- 
duce. What  shall  be  your  forfeit,  asks  the 
king,  if  I  seduce  her  ?  Maurianos  stakes  his 
head,  A-I,  and  the  girl  is  to  be  the  king's 
slave,  H ;  the  king,  his  kingdom  and  crown, 
A,  B,  his  property,  C,  P.  There  is  a  mutual 
wager  of  nine  towers  of  silver,  J.  The  young 
man  is  to  be  a  prisoner  till  the  morning,  I. 
The  king  begins,  in  A,  B,  by  engaging  the 
services  of  witches  eighteen,  witches  fifteen, 
or  bawds  eighteen,  witches  fifteen.  They  ply 
their  magic  early  and  late :  forty  days  to  get 
up  her  stair,  other  four-and-forty  to  get  sight 
of  the  girl,  A.  They  address  her  with  flat- 
teries, but  are  rebufiPed,  A,  B.  The  king  sends 
rich  presents,  A,  C-I ;  beasts  laden  with  sil- 
ver and  money,  nine,  twelve,  twenty  and 
again  ten.  The  girl  receives  them  with  pro- 
fessions of  pleasure  ;  her  brother  will  return 
the  compliment  to  the  giver.  It  is  explained 
that  no  return  is  looked  for  ;  the  presents  are 
from  the  king,  who  desires  to  pass  the  night 
with  her.  (In  J  the  king  goes  straight  to 
the  wife,  and  says  that  he  has  her  husband's 
permission.)  The  lady  affects  to  put  herself 
at  the  king's  disposition.  She  appeals  to  her 
maid-servants,  A,  B  ;  first  her  "  nurses,"  then 
her  maids,  0  ;  one  servant,  and  then  another, 
H.  Which  of  them  will  enable  her  to  keep  her 
word,  change  clothes  with  her,  and  pass  the 
night  with  the  king  ?  Only  Maria,  the  young- 
est of  all  (of  forty,  B),  is  willing  to  stead  her 
mistress  in  this  strait,  A-C.  In  D-G,  I,  J, 
there  is  but  one  nurse  or  servant,  and  she  as- 


sents, or  follows  her  mistress's  directions  as  a 
matter  of  course.  The  servant  is  to  have  the 
king's  present  in  D.  The  substitute  is  elabo- 
rately combed  and  dressed,  with  a  gold  band 
round  her  hair,  and  a  beautiful  ring  on  her 
finger.  At  midnight,  or  before  dawn,  the 
king  cuts  off  the  finger  that  has  the  ring.  A, 
I,  her  finger,  B,  P,  G,  H  (fingers,  B,  v.  43), 
little  finger,  D,  E ;  takes  the  ring  from  her 
finger,  C,  all  the  rings  from  her  fingers,  J. 
He  also  cuts  off  her  hair  (braid),  with  its 
golden  band,  B  (braids,  v.  43),  0,  I,  her  hair 
(braid),  with  the  golden  flowers.  A,  with  the 
pearl,  H,  right  braid,  D,  braid,  P,  G,  I,  ex- 
tremity of  her  braid,  E.  These  are  to  serve 
as  tokens ;  he  puts  them  in  his  handkerchief, 

A,  D.  He  takes  his  trophies  to  the  assembly. 
Maurianos  has  lost  his  wager,  and  is  to  be 
hanged.  Where  is  Maurianos,  the  braggart, 
and  where  his  precious  sister,  whom  no  gifts 
could  seduce  ?  Word  comes  to  the  sister. 
She  dresses  herself  beautifully,  and  makes  her 
way  into  the  assemblj"^ ;  she  would  fain  know 
why  they  are  to  hang  Maurianos.  *  I  have  se- 
duced his  sister,'  says  the  king,  '  and  I  will 
hang  Maurianos.'  The  girl  demands  tokens. 
'  I  cut  off  her  finger,  with  the  golden  sapphire ; 
I  cut  off  her  hair,  with  the  golden  flowers 
(band).'  She  extends  her  hand;  the  earth 
is  filled  with  sapphires.  *  See,  lords  !  are  fin- 
gers of  mine  wanting  ? '  She  flings  out  her 
hair ;  the  earth  is  filled  with  flowers.  '  See, 
lords !  is  a  braid  of  mine  wanting  ? '  (A,  B, 
and  the  rest  to  the  same  effect.)  Then  she 
turns  to  the  king.  *It  fits  you  no  more  to 
play  the  king,'  A,  B.  '  You  have  slept  with 
my  slave,  and  my  slave  you  shall  be,'  C-I. 
*  Take  my  mule  and  go  fetch  wood. '     In  A, 

B,  the  king  has  to  marry  Maria.  In  P,  John 
becomes  king  (as  a  consequence  of  winning 
the  wager).  In  I,  the  people  depose  the  king 
and  make  Maurianos's  sister  queen.  h^ 

There  are  numerous  tales  in  which  a  man  ' '*7 
wagers  heavily  upon  a  woman's  (generally  his     ^ 
wife's)  constancy,   and,    upon  plausible  evi- 
dence, which  in  the  end  proves  to  be  nuga- 
tory, is  adjudged  to  have  lost.*     We  are  con- 

*  The  cutting  off  the  hair  from  a  woman  substituted  occurs 
in  the  fabliau  '  Des  Tresces,'  Barbazan  et  Meou,  IV,  393, 


268.     THE  TWA  KNIGHTS 


23 


cerned  only  witli  a  small  section  of  these  sto- 
ries, characterized  by  the  circumstances  that 
the  woman  whose  virtue  is  questioned  puts 
another  woman  in  her  place  in  the  encounter 
with  the  assailant,  and  that  the  proofs  of  suc- 
cess offered  are  a  finger,  finger-ring,  and  head, 
or  braid,  of  hair  *  (one  of  these,  or  more). 

A  rhymed  tale  of  the  thirteenth  century, 
'  Von  zwein  Kaufmannen,'  by  Ruprecht  von 
Wiirzburg,f  has  the  following  story,  evidently 
French  by  origin.  Bertram,  a  merchant  of 
Verdun,  who  has  been  happily  married  for  ten 
years,  is  required  in  the  course  of  business  to 
go  to  a  fair  at  Provins.  While  he  is  sitting 
at  table  in  an  inn  with  other  merchants,  Ho- 
gier,  the  host,  sets  his  guests  to  talking  of 
their  wives,  and  three  of  them  give  a  very 
bad  account  of  their  domestic  experiences. 
Bertram,  when  urged  to  take  his  turn,  pro- 
fesses himself  the  most  fortunate  of  men,  for 
his  wife  (Irmengard)  is,  for  beauty,  sense, 
modesty,  manners,  the  flower  of  womankind. 
The  host  declares  that  the  man  is  mad,  and 
offers  to  stake  all  his  goods  against  Bertram's 
that  he  will  seduce  this  peerless  wife  within 
six  months.  The  wager  is  accepted,  and  Ber- 
tram, to  afford  an  opportunity,  sends  his  wife 
word  that  he  shall  be  gone  from  home  longer 
than  he  had  intended.  Hogier  goes  to  Ver- 
dun and  takes  a  lodging  opposite  to  Bertram's 
house.  He  begins  with  presents  and  messages 
to  Irmengard;   she   treats  these   with  con- 


tempt, and  threatens  to  make  a  complaint  to 
her  friends.  He  gives  bounties  to  the  ser- 
vants, who  sing  his  praises  to  their  mistress 
till  they  are  told  that  they  will  be  thrashed 
if  they  continue.  He  then  gives  a  pound  to 
Irmengard's  favorite  maid,  Amelin,  and  com- 
missions her  to  offer  a  hundred  mark  if  he 
may  have  his  will ;  and  the  wife  proving  to 
be  both  firm  and  indignant,  he  raises  his  offer 
to  two  hundred  mark,  and  finally  to  a  thou- 
sand for  one  night.  Not  only  the  maid,  but 
Irmengard's  own  father  and  her  husband's 
father,  to  whom  she  successively  appeals,  urge 
her  to  take  this  large  sum,  and  assure  her  that 
she  will  incur  her  husband's  resentment  if  she 
does  not.  A  way  out  of  her  difl&culties  now 
occurs  to  her  (which  the  author  of  the  poem 
represents  as  an  express  suggestion  from  God). 
She  asks  the  maid  if  she  will  give  Hogier  a 
night  for  the  consideration  of  a  hundred  mark; 
Amelin  is  ready  so  to  do  for  half  the  money. 
Hogier  is  told  to  pay  in  his  thousand,  and  an 
appointment  is  made.  Irmengard  receives 
him  in  Amelin's  garb,  and  Amelin  in  Irmen- 
gard's. In  the  morning  Hogier  asks  for  some 
jewel  as  a  keepsake,  and  the  maid  having 
nothing  to  give  him,  he  cuts  off  one  of  her 
fingers.  He  now  calls  upon  Bertram  to  pay 
his  forfeit.  Bertram  has  some  doubt  whether 
he  has  not  been  tricked.  It  is  mutually  agreed 
that  the  matter  shall  be  settled  at  a  banquet 
which  Bertram  is  to  give  at  Verdun.     Ber- 


Montaiglon  et  Bajnaud,  IV,  67,  and  M^on,  Nouveau  Re- 
cueil,  I,  343,  Montaiglon  et  Raynaud,  V,  132  (a  different 
Tersion) ;  Boccaccio,  Decameron,  vii,  8 ;  '  Der  verkerte 
Wirt,'  von  der  Hagen's  Gesammtabenteuer,  II,  337,  No  43 : 
all  varieties  of  one  story.  See  also  'Der  Reiger,'  p.  157  of 
the  same  volume  of  von  der  Hagen,  No  31,  and  the  literary 
history  of  No  43,  at  p.  xlii.  —  Bedier,  Les  Fabliaux,  p.  149 
flP.,  refers  to  several  other  examples. 

*  The  more  important  of  the  stories  which  lack  the  dis- 
tinctive traits  of  the  Scottish  and  Romaic  ballads  are: 
Roman  de  la  Violette,  thirteenth  century  (ed.  Michel,  1834) ; 
Roman  du  Comte  de  Poitiers,  thirteenth  century  (ed.  Michel, 
1831) ;  Li  Contes  du  Roi  Flore  et  de  la  bielle  Jehane,  thir- 
teenth century,  Moland  et  d'He'ricault,  1856,  p.  85,  and  Mon- 
merque  et  Michel,  The'atre  Fran9ais  au  Moyen  Age,  1842,  p. 
417  ;  Miracle  de  Nostre  Dame,  Conmeut  Ostes,  roy  d'Es- 
paingne,  perdi  sa  terre  par  gagier  contre  Berengier,  etc.,  Mon- 
merque  et  Michel,  as  before,  p.  431,  and  Miracles  de  Nostre 
Dame,  G.  Paris  et  U.  Robert,  IV,  319  ;  an  episode  in  Perce- 
forest,  vol.  iv,  cc.  16,  17,  retold  by  Bandello,  Part  I,  Nov.  21 
(R.  Kohler,  in  Jahrbuch  f iir  Rom.  u.  Eng.  Lit.,  VIII,  51  ff. ) ; 


the  story  of  Bernabb  da  Genova  da  Ambruoginolo  ingan- 
nato,  Boccaccio,  Decameron,  ii,  9,  repeated  in  Shakspere's 
Cymbeline  and  many  other  pieces.  Popular  tales  with  the 
wager  are :  Campbell,  West  Highlands,  II,  1,  No  18 ;  J.  W. 
Wolfs  Deutsche  Hausmarchen,  p.  355 ;  Simrock,  Deutsche 
Marchen,  p.  235  (ed.  1864),  No  51  ;  Prohle,  Kinder-  und 
Volksmarchen,  No  61,  p.  179  (see  also  p.  xlii)  ;  Das  Aus- 
land,  1856,  p.  1053,  Roumanian;  Miklosich,  Marchen  u. 
Lieder  der  Zigeuner  der  Bukowina,  p.  49,  No  14  ;  Bernoni, 
Fiabe  veneziane,  p.  1,  No  1 ;  Gonzenbach,  I,  38,  No  7  ;  Pitrfe, 
Fiabe,  Novelle  e  Racconti  siciliani,  II,  142,  165,  Nos  73,  75  ; 
Imbriani,  Novellaja  fiorentina,  p.  483.  (Some  of  these  have 
been  cited  by  Kohler,  some  by  Landau.)  See,  in  general, 
the  Grimms,  Altdeutsche  Walder,  1, 35  ff.,  II,  181  f. ;  von  der 
Hagen's  Gesammtabenteuer,  introduction  to  No  LXVIII, 
especially  III,  xci-cix ;  R.  Kohler,  as  above,  and  in  Orient 
u.  Occident,  II,  315 ;  Landau,  Quellen  des  Dekameron,  1884, 
p.  135  ff.;  R.  Ohle,  Shakespeares  Cymbeline  und  seine  ro- 
manischen  Vorlaufer,  Berlin,  1890. 

t  Altdeutsche  Walder,  I,  35  ;  von  der  Hagen,  Gesammt- 
abenteuer, III,  357. 


24 


268.    THE  TWA  KNIGHTS 


tram,  upon  his  return  home,  cannot  conceal  a 
deep  depression.  His  wife  asks  him  the  cause, 
and  he  opens  his  mind  to  her;  she  bids  him 
be  of  good  cheer,  for  all  Hogier's  goods  are 
theirs.  At  the  banquet  Hogier  states  his  case, 
and  produces  the  finger  in  confirmation  of  his 
claim.  Irmengard,  asked  what  answer  she 
has  to  make,  humorously  replies  that  she  is 
sorry  for  her  misbehavior,  but  all  her  friends, 
there  present,  had  advised  her  to  commit  it. 
She  then  shows  her  hands,  both  unmarred. 
Amelin  comes  in  and  complains  of  the  treat- 
ment she  has  received.  Hogier  owns  that  he 
has  lost,  and  desires  to  become  Bertram's 
'poor  man.'  Amelin  is  given  him  as  wife, 
with  her  hundred  mark  for  a  dowry.  Here 
we  have  wager,  substitution,  finger  cut  off,  as 
in  the  Scottish  ballad  and  most  of  the  Romaic 
versions,  and  the  loser  marries  the  maid,  as  in 
the  Scottish  ballad  and  Romaic  A,  B. 

The  Mabinogi  of  Taliesin,  "  in  its  present 
form  not  older  than  the  thirteenth  century," 
has  the  incidents  of  the  substitution  of  the 
maid-servant,  the  finger  and  finger-ring,  with 
the  modification  that  the  wife's  general  high 
character,  and  not  simply  her  continence,  is 
impugned  and  vindicated. 

At  a  Christmas  feast  in  the  palace  of  King 
Maelgwn,  the  company  were  discoursing  of  the 
unequalled  felicity  of  the  king,  upon  whom 
heaven  had  bestowed,  with  every  other  good 
gift,  a  queen  whose  virtues  exceeded  those  of 
all  the  noble  ladies  in  the  kingdom.  Elphin, 
Maelgwn 's  nephew,  said.  None  but  a  king 
may  vie  with  a  king ;  otherwise  he  would  say 
that  his  own  wife  was  as  virtuous  as  any  lady 
in  the  kingdom.  Maelgwn  was  not  there  to 
hear  this  boast,  but  it  was  duly  reported  to 
him,  and  he  ordered  Elphin  to  be  thrown  into 
prison,  pending  a  test  of  Elphin's  wife  which 
he  deputed  his  graceless  son,  Rhun,  to  make. 
Taliesin,  Elphin's  bard,  warned  the  lady  that 
Rhun  would  try  to  put  some  disgrace  upon 
her,  and  advised  that  one  of  the  servants 
should  personate  her  mistress  when  Rhun 
came  to  the  house.  Accordingly,  a  kitchen- 
maid  was  dressed  up  in  her  mistress's  clothes, 
and  was  seated  at  the  supper-table,  her  hands 
loaded  with  rings.     Rhun  made  his  appear- 


ance and  was  welcomed  by  the  disguised 
menial.  He  fell  to  jesting  with  her,  put  a 
powder  into  her  drink,  which  cast  her  into  a 
sound  sleep,  and  cut  off  her  little  finger,  on 
which  was  Elphin's  signet-ring.  The  king 
assembled  his  councillors,  had  Elphin  brought 
in  from  prison,  and  showed  him  the  finger, 
which  (so  Rhun  had  averred)  had  been  cut 
from  his  wife's  hand  the  preceding  night, 
while  she  was  sunk  in  a  drunken  sleep.  Elphin 
could  not  deny  that  the  ring  was  his,  but  he 
gave  three  incontrovertible  reasons  why  the 
finger  could  not  be  his  wife's,  one  of  these  be- 
ing that  the  ring  was  too  large  to  stay  on  his 
wife's  thumb,  yet  too  small  to  go  over  the 
joint  of  the  little  finger  of  the  hand  from  which 
it  had  been  cut ;  and  the  fact  was  put  beyond 
question  by  Taliesin's  afterwards  bringing  in 
Elphin's  wife  at  a  state-dinner,  and  displaying 
her  unmutilated  hand.* 

A  lively  play  of  Jakob  Ayrer's  (about 
1600)  has  the  wager,  the  substitution,  the 
ring  offered  in  evidence  (as  in  Romaic  C,  Q), 
the  marriage  with  the  maid. 

Claudius,  master  of  the  hunt  to  the  Prince 
of  Calabria,  on  the  eve  of  his  departure  on  a 
voyage,  is  heard  by  two  courtiers,  Leipolt  and 
Seiibolt,  soliloquizing  on  the  excellences  of 
his  wife,  Frigia,  her  housekeeping,  virtue,  and 
love  for  him.  They  wager  all  their  goods 
against  his  that  they  will  bring  the  woman  to 
do  their  will.  One  undertakes  to  present  her 
wedding-ring,  the  other  her  necklace,  in  proof 
of  the  achievement,  Leipolt  and  Seiibolt, 
always  acting  severally,  attempt  to  buy  the 
services  of  Jahn  Tiirek,  a  quick-witted  and 
loyal  servant  of  Claudius.  He  tells  every- 
thing to  his  mistress,  and  by  his  advice  she 
dresses  two  of  her  maids  in  her  clothes  and 
lets  them  meet  the  men,  warning  them  to 
keep  within  bounds.  Leipolt  and  Seiibolt, 
each  finding  the  supposed  lady  coy,  are  con- 
tent to  secure  the  means  of  winning  their 
wager,  and,  by  Frigia's  connivance  (who,  it 
seems,  had  come  to  knowledge  of  the  wager 
through  Jahn),  one  of  them  receives  her  ring, 

*  Lady  Charlotte  Guest's  Mabinogion,  Part  VII,  pp.  364- 
83,  or  p.  477  ff.  of  the  edition  of  1877 ;  an  abstract  in  E. 
Jones's  Bardic  Museum,  p.  19. 


268.    THE  TWA  KNIGHTS 


26 


the  other  her  necklace,  as  pretended  love- 
tokens.  Claudius  comes  home.  Leipolt  in- 
forms the  prince  of  the  wager,  and  asks  Clau- 
dius whether  he  knows  the  ring  and  will  pay ; 
Seiibolt  brings  out  the  necklace.  Claudius 
gives  all  for  lost.  The  prince  sends  for  Frigia. 
She  challenges  the  courtiers  to  say  that  she 
has  misbehaved  with  them.  They  own  that 
they  have  never  laid  eyes  on  her,  but  they 
recognize  the  maids  when  they  are  brought 
in,  still  in  their  mistress's  clothes.  Frigia 
explains  in  detail.  The  prince  addresses  his 
councillors  (for  such  they  are)  in  terms  of 
exemplary  severity,  and  adjudges  them  to 
marry  the  maids,  making  over  one  third  of 
their  property  to  these  and  another  to  Clau- 
dius, or  to  lose  their  heads.  (Compare  the 
Scottish  ballad  at  the  end.)  They  prefer  to 
keep  their  heads.* 

^  A  Danish  ballad,  very  popular  in  the  six- 
teenth and  seventeenth  centuries,  has  the 
wager  (only  on  the  part  of  the  assailant),  but 
the  story  takes  a  different  turn  from  the  fore- 
going, for  the  irresistible  knight  has  simply  a 
conversation  with  the  lady,  in  which  he  meets 
with  a  definitive  repulse. 

yr      *  Vseddemaalet,*  '  Herr  Lave  og  Herr  Iver 

/     Blaa,'   Grundtvig,   IV,   302,   No  224,   A-L, 

Kristensen,  I,  319,  No  118,  X,  137,  No  36 ; 


Prior,  III,  28,  No  104.  Lange  (Lave)  and 
Peder  (Iver)  sit  at  the  board  talking  of  wives 
and  fair  maids.  Peder  asserts  that  the  maid 
lives  not  in  the  world  whom  he  cannot  cajole 
with  a  word.  Lange  knows  the  maid  so  vir- 
tuous that  neither  words  nor  gold  can  beguile. 
Peder  wagers  life  (gold,  goods,  house,  land) 
and  neck  (halsbane)  that  she  shall  be  his  by 
the  morrow.  He  rides  straightway  to  Inge- 
lil,  Thorlof 's  daughter,  and  makes  love  to  her 
in  honorable  phrase.  Ingelil  reminds  him  of 
two  ladies  who  have  received  the  same  profes- 
sions from  him  and  been  betrayed.  If  she 
will  be  his  dear,  every  finger  shall  wear  the 
red  gold :  her  father  has  nine  gold  rings,  and 
would  give  them  all  to  her  if  she  wished.  If 
she  will  be  his,  she  shall  have  a  train  of  ser- 
vants, out  and  in :  she  is  not  halt  or  blind, 
and  can  go  out  and  in  by  herself.  If  he  can- 
not have  his  will  with  her,  it  will  cost  him  his 
white  halsbane :  much  better  so  than  that 
he  should  cheat  her,  or  any  honorable  maid. 
Peder  rides  away  sorrowful,  for  lost  is  gold 
and  his  white  halsbane  besides.f  We  have 
already  had  the  Scottish  counterpart  of  this 
ballad,  with  variations  for  better  or  worse,  in 
*  Redesdale  and  Wise  William,'  IV,  383,  No 
246,  A-C. 


sy 


1  Thebe  were  twa  knights  in  fair  Scotland, 

And  they  were  brothers  sworn  ; 
They  made  a  vow  to  be  as  true 
As  if  they  'd  been  brothers  bom. 

2  The  one  he  was  a  wealthy  knight, 

Had  lands  and  buildings  free ; 
The  other  was  a  young  hynde  squire, 
In  rank  of  lower  degree. 

3  But  it  fell  ance  upon  a  day 

These  squires  they  walkd  alone, 


And  to  each  other  they  did  talk 
About  the  fair  women. 

4  '  O  wed  a  may,'  the  knight  did  say, 

'  For  your  credit  and  fame ; 
Lay  never  your  love  on  lemanry, 
Bring  nae  gude  woman  to  shame.' 

5  '  There 's  nae  gude  women,'  the  squire  did  say, 

*  Into  this  place  but  nine ;  * 

*  O  well  falls  me,'  the  knight  replied, 

*  For  ane  o  them  is  mine.' 


*  Ayrers  Dramen,  heransgegeben  von  A.  von  Keller,  IV, 
2279,  No  30 ;  Comedia  von  zweyen  fiirstlichen  rathen  die 
alle  beede  umb  eines  gewetts  willen  umb  ein  weib  balten, 
n.  s.  w. 

t  There  is  another  Danish  ballad  in  which  two  knights 

VOL.  V.  4 


wager  on  a  maid's  fidelity,  but  it  is  of  entirely  different  tenor, 
the  maid  being  lured  by  a  magical  horn : '  Bidderens  Rune- 
slag,'  Grundtvig,  n,  285,  No  73,  A-B, '  Bidder  Oles  Lud/ 
Kristensen,  II,  108,  353,  No  34,  A-C ;  Prior,  III,  34,  No 
105. 


tte 


268.    THE  TWA  KNIGHTS 


6  *  Ye  say  your  lady 's  a  gude  woman, 

But  I  say  she  is  nane  ; 
I  think  that  I  could  gain  her  love 
Ere  six  months  they  are  gane. 

7  '  If  ye  will  gang  six  months  away, 

And  sail  upon  the  faem, 
Then  I  will  gain  your  lady's  love 
Before  that  ye  come  hame.' 

8  '  O  I  '11  gang  till  a  far  countrie, 

And  far  beyond  the  faem. 
And  ye  winna  gain  my  lady's  love 
Whan  nine  lang  months  are  gane.' 

9  When  the  evening  sun  did  set, 

And  day  came  to  an  end, 
In  then  came  the  lady's  gude  lord, 
Just  in  at  yon  town's  end. 

10  '  O  comely  are  ye,  my  lady  gay, 

Sae  fair  and  rare  to  see  ; 
I  wish  whan  I  am  gane  away 
Ye  keep  your  mind  to  me.' 

11  She  gae  'm  a  bason  to  wash  in, 

It  shin'd  thro  a'  the  ha ; 
But  aye  as  she  gaed  but  and  ben 
She  loot  the  saut  tears  fa. 

12  '  I  wonder  what  ails  my  g^de  lord 

He  has  sic  jealousie  ; 
Never  when  we  parted  before, 
He  spak  sic  words  to  me.' 

13  When  cocks  did  craw,  and  day  did  daw. 

This  knight  was  fair  at  sea ; 
Then  in  it  came  the  young  hynde  squire, 
To  work  him  villanie. 

14  '  I  hae  a  coffer  o  gude  red  gowd, 

Another  o  white  monie  ; 
I  woud  gie  you 't  a',  my  gay  lady, 
To  lye  this  night  wi  me.' 

15  '  If  ye  warna  my  lord's  brother. 

And  him  sae  far  frae  hame. 

Even  before  my  ain  bower-door 

I  'd  gar  hang  you  on  a  pin.' 

16  He  's  gane  frae  the  lady's  bower, 

Wi  the  saut  tear  in  his  ee, 


And  he  is  to  his  foster-mother 
As  fast  as  gang  coud  he. 

17  *  There  is  a  fancy  in  my  head 

That  I  '11  reveal  to  thee. 
And  your  assistance  I  will  crave 
If  ye  wiU  grant  it  me. 

18  '  I  've  fifty  guineas  in  my  pocket, 

I  've  fifty  o  them  and  three. 
And  if  ye  'U  grant  what  I  request 
Ye  'se  hae  them  for  your  fee.' 

19  '  Speak  on,  speak  on,  ye  gude  hynde  squire, 

What  may  your  asking  be  ? 
I  kenna  wha  woud  be  sae  base 
As  nae  serve  for  sic  a  fee.' 

20  '  O  I  hae  wagerd  wi  my  brother, 

When  he  went  to  the  faem. 
That  I  woud  gain  his  lady's  love 
Ere  six  months  they  were  gane. 

21  '  To  me  he  laid  his  lands  at  stake 

Tho  he  were  on  the  faem, 
I  wudna  gain  his  lady's  love 

Whan  nine  lang  months  were  gane. 

22  *  Now  I  hae  tried  to  gain  her  love, 

But  finds  it  winna  do  ; 
And  here  I  'm  come,  as  ye  her  know. 
To  seek  some  help  frae  you. 

23  '  For  I  did  lay  my  life  at  stake. 

Whan  my  brother  went  frae  hame. 
That  I  woud  gain  his  lady's  love 
Whan  he  was  on  the  faem.' 

24  But  when  the  evening  sun  was  set, 

And  day  came  to  an  end. 
In  it  came  that  f  ause  carline, 
Just  in  at  yon  town's  end. 

25  '  O  comely  are  ye,  my  gay  lady. 

Your  lord  is  on  the  faem  ; 
Yon  unco  squire  will  gain  your  love, 
Before  that  he  come  hame.' 

26  *  Forbid  it,'  said  the  lady  fair, 

'  That  eer  the  like  shoud  be. 
That  I  woud  wrang  my  ain  g^de  lord, 
And  him  sae  far  at  sea.' 


268.    THE  TWA  KNIGHTS 


27. 


27  *0  comely  are  ye,  my  gay  lady, 

Stately  is  your  fair  bodie  ; 
Your  lovely  visage  is  far  chang'd, 
That  is  best  known  to  me. 

28  *  You  're  sair  dune  out  for  want  o  sleep 

Sin  your  lord  went  to  sea ; 
Unless  that  ye  do  cease  your  grief, 
It  will  your  ruin  be. 

29  '  You  'U  send  your  maids  unto  the  hay, 

Your  young  men  unto  the  corn  ; 
I  'U  gar  ye  sleep  as  soun  a  sleep 
As  the  night  that  ye  were  born.' 

30  She  sent  her  maids  to  ted  the  hay. 

Her  men  to  shear  the  com. 
And  she  gard  her  sleep  as  soun  a  sleep 
As  the  night  that  she  was  born. 

31  She  rowd  that  lady  in  the  silk. 

Laid  her  on  hoUand  sheets  ; 
Wi  fine  enchanting  melodie, 
She  lulld  her  fast  asleep. 

32  She  lockd  the  yetts  o  that  castle 

Wi  thirty  locks  and  three, 
Then  went  to  meet  the  young  hynde  squire 
To  him  the  keys  gae  she. 

33  He 's  opend  the  locks  o  that  castle. 

Were  thirty  and  were  three. 
And  he 's  gane  where  that  lady  lay, 
And  thus  to  her  said  he. 

34  *  O  wake,  O  wake,  ye  gay  lady, 

0  wake  and  speak  to  me ; 
I  hae  it  fully  in  my  power 

To  come  to  bed  to  thee.' 

35  *  For  to  defile  my  husband's  bed, 

1  woud  think  that  a  sin ; 

As  soon  as  this  lang  day  is  gane. 
Then  I  shall  come  to  thine.' 

36  Then  she  has  calld  her  niece  Maisry, 

Says,  An  asking  ye  '11  grant  me, 
For  to  gang  to  yon  unco  squire 
And  sleep  this  night  for  me. 

37  '  The  gude  red  gowd  shall  be  your  hire, 

And  siller 's  be  your  fee ; 


Five  hundred  pounds  o  pennies  round. 
Your  tocher  it  shall  be.' 

38  She  tumd  her  right  and  round  about. 

And  thus  to  her  did  say ; 
O  there  was  never  a  time  on  earth 
So  fain 's  I  woud  say  nay. 

39  But  when  the  evening  sun  was  set, 

And  day  drawn  to  an  end, 

Then  Lady  Maisry  she  is  gane. 

Fair  out  at  yon  town-end. 

40  Then  she  is  to  yon  hynde  squire's  yates, 

And  tirled  at  the  pin  ; 
Wha  was  sae  busy  as  the  hynde  squire 
To  lat  that  lady  in ! 

41  He 's  taen  her  in  his  arms  twa, 

He  was  a  joyf u  man ; 
He  neither  bade  her  meat  nor  drink. 
But  to  the  bed  he  ran. 

42  When  he  had  got  his  will  o  her, 

His  will  as  he  lang  sought. 

Her  ring  but  and  her  ring-finger 

Away  frae  her  he  brought. 

43  With  discontent  straight  home  she  went. 

And  thus  lamented  she ; 
Says,  Wae  be  to  yon  young  hynde  squire  ! 
Sae  ill  as  he 's  used  me. 

44  When  the  maids  came  frae  the  hay, 

The  young  men  frae  the  com, 
Ben  it  came  that  lady  gay. 

Who  thought  lang  for  their  return. 

45  *  Where  hae  ye  been,  my  maidens  a', 

Sae  far  awa  frae  me  ? 
My  foster-mother  and  lord's  brother 
Thought  to  hae  beguiled  me. 

46  *  Had  not  she  been  my  foster-mother, 

I  suckd  at  her  breast-bane. 

Even  before  my  ain  bower-door, 

She  in  a  gleed  shoud  burn. 

47  *  The  squire  he  thought  to  gain  my  love, 

He  's  got  but  Lady  Maisry  ; 
He  's  cutted  her  ring  and  her  ring-finger, 
A  love-token  for  to  be. 


28 


26a    THE  TWA  KNIGHTS 


48  *  I  '11  tie  my  finger  in  the  daxk, 

Where  nae  ane  shall  me  see  ; 
I  hope  to  loose  it  in  the  light, 
Amang  gude  companie.' 

49  When  night  was  gane,  and  hirds  did  sing, 

And  day  began  to  peep, 
The  hynde  squire  walkd  alang  the  shore, 
His  brother  for  to  meet. 

50  '  Ye  are  welcome,  welcome,  landless  lord, 

To  my  ha's  and  my  bowers ; 
Ye  are  welcome  hame,  ye  landless  lord, 
To  my  lady  white  like  flowers.' 

61  *  Ye  say  I  am  a  landless  lord. 

But  I  think  I  am  nane, 
Without  ye  show  some  love-token 
Awa  frae  her  ye  've  tane.* 

62  He  drew  the  strings  then  o  his  purs^ 

And  they  were  a'  bludie ; 
The  ring  but  and  the  ring-finger 
Sae  soon  as  he  lat  him  see. 

63  *  O  wae  be  to  you,  f ause  hjmde  squire, 

Ane  ill  death  mat  ye  dee ! 
It  was  too  sair  a  love-token 
To  take  frae  my  ladie. 

54  '  But  ae  asking  of  you,  hynde  squire. 

In  your  won  bowers  to  dine  ; ' 
'  With  a'  my  heart,  my  brother  dear, 
Tho  ye  had  asked  nine.' 

55  Then  he  is  to  his  lady's  father. 

And  a  sorrow  man  was  he : 
'  O  judge,  O  judge,  my  father  dear. 
This  judgment  pass  for  me. 

66  '  What  is  the  thing  that  shoud  be  done 
Unto  that  gay  lady 
Who  woud  gar  her  lord  gae  landless. 
And  children  bastards  to  be  ?  * 

57  *  She  shoud  be  brunt  upon  a  hill. 
Or  hangd  upon  a  tree, 
That  woud  gar  her  lord  gang  landless. 
And  children  bastards  be.' 


68  ^  Your  judgment  is  too  rash,  father ; 
Your  ain  daughter  is  she 
That  this  day  has  made  me  landless ; 
Your  squire  gaind  it  frae  me. 

59  *  Yet  nevertheless,  my  parents  dear, 

Ae  favour  ye  '11  grant  me, 

And  gang  alang  to  my  lost  ha's. 

And  take  your  dine  wi  me.' 

60  He  threw  the  charters  ower  the  table. 

And  kissd  the  yates  o  tree ; 
Says,  Fare  ye  well,  my  lady  gay, 
Your  face  I  'U  never  see. 

61  Then  his  lady  calld  out  to  him. 

Come  here,  my  lord,  and  dine ; 
There 's  nae  a  smith  in  a'  the  land 
That  can  ae  finger  join. 

62  *  I  tied  my  finger  in  the  dark. 

Whan  nae  ane  did  me  see ; 
But  now  I  '11  loose  it  in  the  light, 
Amang  gude  companie. 

63  '  Even  my  niece,  Lady  Maisry, 

The  same  woman  was  she ; 
The  gude  red  gowd  shall  be  her  hire, 
And  likeways  white  monie. 

64  '  Five  hundred  pounds  o  pennies  round 

Her  tocher  then  shall  be, 
Because  she  did  my  wills  obey, 
Beguild  the  squire  for  me.* 

65  Then  they  did  call  this  young  hynde  squire 

To  come  right  speedilie, 
Likeways  they  calld  young  Lady  Maisry, 
To  pay  her  down  her  fee. 

66  Then  they  laid  down  to  Lady  Maisry 

The  brand  but  and  the  ring ; 
It  was  to  stick  him  wi  the  brand. 
Or  wed  him  wi  the  ring. 

67  Thrice  she  minted  to  the  brand. 

But  she  took  up  the  ring  ; 
And  a'  the  ladies  who  heard  o  it 
Said  she  was  a  wise  woman. 


269.    LADY  DIAMOND 


29 


269 
LADY  DIAMOND 


j-f^" 


A.  'Lady  Daisy,'  Aytoun's  Ballads  of   Scotland,  II,      D.  « Lady  Diamond,'  Buchan's  MSS,  II,  164;  'Lady 
173,  1859.  Diamond,  the  King's  Daughter,'  Buchan's  Ballads 

of  the  North  of  Scotland,  II,  206;  '  Ladye  Diamond,' 

B.  'Lady  Dayisie,' from  an  old  lady's  collection  for-  Dixon,   Scottish  Traditional   Versions  of    Ancient 
merly  in  possession  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,*  now  belong-          Ballads,  p.  7],  Percy  Society,  vol.  xvii. 

ing  to  Mr  Macmath,  Edinburgh. 

E.  *  Robin,  the  Kitchie-Boy,'  Joseph  Robertson,  "  Ad- 

C.  Sharpe's  Ballad  Book,  p.  12,  1823.  versaria,"  p.  66. 


Diamond  (Daisy,  Dysmal,  Dysie),  only 
daughter  of  a  great  king,  is  with  child  by 
a  very  bonny  kitchen-boy.  The  base-born 
paramour  is  put  to  death,  and,  by  the  king's 
order,  his  heart  is  taken  to  the  princess  in 
a  cup  of  gold.  She  washes  it  with  the  tears 
which  run  into  the  cup,  A,  B,  C,  and  dies  of 
her  grief.  Her  father  has  a  sharp  remorse, 
A,  C ;  his  daughter's  shame  looks  pardonable, 
when  he  considers  the  beauty  of  the  man  he 
has  slain,  A. 
\C  B  is  blended  with  '  Willie  o  Winsbury,'  No 
^  100;  cf.  B  4-9,  and  No  100,  A  2-7,  B  1-6, 
etc.  In '  Willie  o  Winsbury ',  B,  the  princess's 
name  is  Dysmill.  A  12,  B  11  of  '  Lady  Dia- 
mond '  also  recall '  Willie  o  Winsbury.' 

In  0,  D,  the  kitchen-boy  is  smothered  be- 
tween two  feather-beds. 

Isbel  was  the  princess's  name  in  a  copy 
obtained  by  Motherwell,  but  not  preserved. 
Motherwell's  Note-Book,  p.  7 ;  C.  K.  Sharpe's 
Correspondence,  II,  328. 

The  ballad  is  one  of  a  large  number  of 
repetitions  of  Boccaccio*s  tale  of  Guiscardo 
and  Ghismonda,  Decamerone,  rv,  1.  This  tale 
was  translated  in  Painter's  Palace  of  Pleasure, 
1566  (ed.  Jacobs,  I,  180),  and  became  the 
foundation  of  various  English  poems  and 
plays.f     Very  probably  it  was  circulated  in  a 

*  See  a  letter  from  Scott  to  C.  K  Sharpe,  in  Mr  Al- 
lardyce's  edition  of  Sharpe's  letters,  11,  264. 

t  See  Dunlop's  History  of  Fiction,  ed.  "Wilson,  II,  91 ;  von 
der  Hagen's  Gresammtabenteuer,  I,  cxxii  f. ;  Clarence  Sher- 


chap-book  edition  in  Great  Britain,  as  it  was 

in  Germany  (Simrock,  Volksbiicher,  VI,  153). 

Prince  Tancredi  has  an  only  daughter  (cf .  A, 

B,  0, 1),  whose  name  is  Ghismonda  (Diamond, 

C,  Dysmal,  B,  Dysie,  D,  Daisy,  A).  She  has 
a  secret  amour  with  a  young  man  of  inferior 
condition  (valetto,  di  nazione  assai  umile ; 
giovane  di  vilissima  condizione,  says  Tancredi), 
sunk  in  the  ballad  to  the  rank  of  kitchen-boy. 
This  young  man,  Guiscardo,  is,  however,  dis- 
tinguished for  manners  and  fine  qualities ;  in- 
deed, superior  in  these  to  all  the  nobles  of  the 
court.  In  the  ballad  he  is  a  very  bonny  boy 
(preferred  to  dukes  and  earls,  B,  C).  Guis- 
cardo is  strangled  (or  suffocated)  ;  the  bonny 
boy  is  smothered  between  two  feather-beds  in 
B  8,  C  7.  The  bonny  boy's  heart  is  cut  out 
and  sent  to  the  king's  daughter  in  a  cup  of 
gold,  in  the  baUad ;  she  washes  it  with  the 
tears  that  run  from  her  eyes  into  the  cup. 
Ghismonda,  receiving  Guiscardo's  heart  in  a 
gold  cup,  sheds  a  torrent  of  tears  over  it,  pours 
a  decoction  of  poisonous  herbs  into  the  cup 
(ove  il  cuore  era  da  molte  delle  sue  lagrime 
lavato),  and  drinks  all  off,  then  lies  down  on 
her  bed  and  awaits  her  death.  Tancredi,  re- 
penting too  late  of  his  cruelty,  has  the  pair 
buried  with  honors  in  one  tomb.J 

Italian.   A.  '  II  padre  crudele,'  Widter  und 

wood.  Die  neu-englischen  Bearbeitungen  der  Erzahlang 
Boccaccios  von  Ghismonda  und  Guiscardo,  Berlin,  1892; 
Varnhagen  in  Literaturblatt,  December,  1892,  p.  412  flF. 
t  The  too  late  repentance  and  the  burial  of  the  two  lovers 


^Z 


J^ 


30 


269.     LADY  DIAMOND 


Wolf,  Volkslieder  aus  Venetien,  p.  72,  No  93. 
A  king  has  an  only  daughter,  Germonia.  She 
has  twelve  servants  to  wait  upon  her,  and 
other  twelve  to  take  her  to  school,  and  she 
falls  in  love  with  the  handsomest,  Rizzardo. 
They  talk  together,  and  this  is  reported  to 
the  king  by  Rizzardo's  fellow-servants.  The 
king  shuts  Rizzardo  up  in  a  room,  bandages 
his  eyes,  cuts  his  heart  out,  puts  it  in  a  gold 
basin,  and  carries  it  to  his  daughter.  '  Take 
this  basin,'  he  says ;  '  take  this  fine  mess, 
Rizzardo's  heart  is  in  it.'  Germonia  re- 
proaches him  for  his  cruelty  ;  he  tells  her,  if 
he  has  done  her  an  offence,  to  take  a  knife  and 
do  him  another.  She  does  not  care  to  do  this  ; 
however,  if  he  were  abed,  she  would.  In  a 
variant,  she  goes  out  to  a  meadow,  and  'poi- 
sons herself  with  her  own  hands.' 

B.  'Flavia,'  Sabatini,  Saggio  di  Canti  po- 
polari  romani,  in  Rivista  di  Letteratura  po- 
polare,  Rome,  1877,  p.  17  f.,  and  separately, 
1878,  p.  8  f.  Flavia  has  thirteen  servants, 
and  becomes  enamored  of  one  of  these,  Ggis- 
m6nno.  His  fellows  find  out  that  the  pair 
have  been  conmauning,  and  inform  the  king. 
'  Sdgra  cordna '  orders  them  to  take  Ggismonno 
to  prison,  and  put  him  to  death.  They  seat 
him  in  a  chair  of  gold,  and  dig  out  his  heart, 
lay  the  heart  in  a  basin  of  gold,  and  carry  it 
to  Flavia,  sitting  at  table,  saying.  Here  is  a 
mess  for  you.  She  retires  to  her  chamber, 
lies  down  on  her  bed,  and  drinks  a  cup  of 
poison. 

C.  '  Risguardo  belo  e  Rismonda  bela,'  Ber- 
noni,  Tradizioni  pop.  veneziane,  p.  39.  A 
count  has  an  only  daughter,  Rismonda.  She 
has  twelve  servants,  and  falls  in  love  with,  the 
handsomest,  who  waits  at  table,  —  the  hand- 
some Risguardo.  She  asks  him  to  be  her 
lover ;  he  cannot,  for  if  her  father  should 
come  to  know  of  such  a  thing  he  would  put 
him  to  death  in  prison.  The  knowledge  comes 
to  the  father,  and  Risguardo  is  put  into  prison. 
One  of  his  fellows  looks  him  up  after  a  fort- 
night, and  after  a  month  cuts  out  his  heart, 
and  takes  it  to  Rismonda ;  '  here  is  a  fine  dish, 
the  heart  of  Risguardo.'     Rismonda,  who  is 

in  one  grave  occur,  also,  in  Decameron,  it,  9,  presentlj  to 
be  spoken  of. 


sitting  at  table,  goes  to  her  chamber;  her 
father  comes  to  console  her;  she  bids  him 
leave  her.  If  I  have  done  you  wrong,  he  says, 
take  this  sword  and  run  it  through  me.  She 
is  not  disposed  to  do  this ;  she  will  write  three 
letters  and  die. 

All  these  come  from  the  Decameron,  rv,  1.  ] 
The  lover  is  sunk  to  a  serving-man,  as  in  the 
Scottish  ballad.     The  names  are  fairly  well  • 
preserved  in  A,  O;  in  B  the  lover  gets  his 
name  from  the  princess,  and  she  is  provided 
with  one  from  the  general  stock. 

Swedish.  '  Hertig  Frojdenborg  och  Froken 
Adelin,'  broadside,    48   stanzas,    Stockholm, 
1757 ;  Afzelius,  I,  95,  No  19,  ed.  Bergstrom   ^ 
och   Hoijer,   I,    81,   No  18,  47  sts  ;    Lagus, 
Nylandska  Folkvisor,  I,  30,  No  8  a,  47  sts ; 
Djurklou,   Ur  Nerikes  Folksprak,  p.  96,  22 
sts;  Dybeck,  Runa,  1869,  p.  34,  37  sts,   of 
which  only  8   are   given ;   Lagus,  as   above, 
b,  2  sts,  o,  1  St. ;   Aminson,  Bidrag,  I,  1st 
heft,  p.  31,  No  6,  2d  heft,  p.  16, 1  st.  each  ; 
unprinted  fragments,  noted  by  Olrik,  Dan- 
marks  gamle  Folkeviser,  V,  ii,  216  f.     The  ' 
broadside  is  certainly  the  source  or  basis  of  i 
all   the   printed  copies,  and  probably  of  an  I 
unpublished  fragment  of  twenty-eight  stanzas 
obtained  by  Eva  Wigstrom  in  1882  (Olrik)  ; 
some   trifling  variations   are   attributable  to 
editing  or  to  tradition. 

Adelin  is  in  the  garden,  making  a  rose 
chaplet  for  Frojdenborg,  who,  seeing  her  from 
his  window,  goes  to  her  and  expresses  the  wish 
that  she  were  his  love.  Adelin  begs  him  not 
to  talk  so;  she  fears  that  her  father  may 
overhear.  False  maid-servants  tell  the  king 
that  Frojdenborg  is  decoying  his  daughter; 
the  king  orders  him  to  be  put  in  chains  and 
shut  up  in  the  dark  tower.  There  he  stays 
fifteen  years.  Adelin  goes  to  the  garden  to 
make  Frojdenborg  a  garland  again.  The 
king  sees  from  his  window  what  she  is  about, 
orders  her  into  his  presence  (he  has  not  cared 
to  see  her  for  fifteen  years),  and  angrily  de- 
mands what  she  has  been  doing  in  the  garden. 
She  says  that  she  has  been  making  a  rose  gar- 
land for  Frojdenborg.  *  Not  forgotten  him 
yet  ? '  *  No ;  nor  should  I,  if  I  lived  a  hundred 
years.'     *Then  I  will  put  a  stop  to  this  love.' 


269.     LADY  DIAMOND 


31 


Frojdenborg  is  taken  out  of  the  tower ;  his 
hair  and  beard  are  gray,  but  he  declares  that 
the  fifteen  years  have  seemed  to  him  only  a 
few  days.  They  bind  Frojdenborg  to  a  tree, 
and  kill  him  as  boors  slaughter  cattle.  They 
lay  him  on  a  board,  and  gut  (slit)  him  as 
boors  gut  (slit)  a  fish.  The  false  maids  take 
his  heart  and  dress  the  lady  a  dainty  dish. 
She  has  a  misgiving,  and  asks  what  she  has 
eaten.  They  tell  her  it  is  her  lover's  heart ; 
then,  she  says,  it  shall  be  my  last  meal.  She 
asks  for  drink :  she  will  drink  to  Frojdenborg, 
she  will  drink  herself  dead.  Her  heart  breaks ; 
word  is  carried  to  her  father ;  God  a  mercy  ! 
he  cries,  I  have  betrayed  my  only  child.  The 
two  are  buried  in  one  grave,  from  which 
springs  a  linden ;  the  linden  grows  over  the 
church  ridge ;  one  leaf  enfolds  the  other. 

Danish.  '  Hertug  Frydenborg,'  in  about 
forty  copies  from  recent  tradition  and  a  broad- 
side of  the  eighteenth  century,  but  not  found 
in  old  manuscripts:  Olrik,  Danmarks  gamle 
Folkeviser,  V,  n,  216,  No  305,  H-A,  and 
Kristensen,  XI,  117,  No  46.  Of  these,  B  i, 
obtained  in  1809,  had  been  printed  by  Nyerup 
og  Rasmussen,  Udvalg  af  danske  Viser,  II, 
238,  No  71.  Others  are  in  Kristensen 's  Skat- 
tegraveren,  I,  33,  No  113,  III,  148,  Nos  835- 
38,  and  in  Kristensen's  Jyske  Folkeminder, 
II,  207,  No  61  A-D  ('  Ridderens  Hj^rte '), 
and  X,  213,  385,  360,  No  52  A-E,  No  94  B. 
^  One  half  of  these  texts,  as  Olrik  remarks, 
are  of  Swedish  origin,  and  even  derived  from 
the  Swedish  broadside ;  others  have  marks  of 
their  own,  and  one  in  particular,  which  indi- 
cates the  ultimate  source  of  the  story  in  both 
the  Swedish  and  the  Danish  ballad.  This 
source  appears  to  be  the  Decameron,  rv,  1, 
as  in  the  Scottish  and  Italian  ballads.  The 
points  of  resemblance  are :  A  princess,  an  only 
daughter,  has  a  lover ;  her  father  disapproves, 
and  throws  the  lover  into  prison  (where  he 
remains  fifteen  years  in  the  ballad,  only  a  day 
or  two  in  the  tale).     The  lover  is  taken  from 


prison  and  put  to  death,  and  his  heart  is  cut 
out.  (The  heart  is  not  sent  to  the  princess 
in  a  golden  vessel,  as  in  the  Decameron,  iv, 
1,  and  the  Scottish  and  Italian  ballads,  but  is 
cooked,  and  given  her  to  eat,  and  is  eaten  ; 
and  she  says,  when  informed  that  she  has 
eaten  her  lover's  heart,  that  it  shall  be  her 
last  food.)  In  most  of  the  Scandinavian  bal- 
lads the  princess  calls  for  wine  (mead),  and 
'  drinks  herself  to  death.'  But  in  O  it  is  ex- 
pressly said  that  she  drinks  poisoned  wine,  in 
B  a,  c,  k,  poisonous  wine,  in  D  that  she  puts 
a  grain  of  poison  in  the  cruse.  (In  B  1  they 
mix  the  lover's  blood  in  wine ;  she  takes  two 
draughts,  and  her  heart  bursts.) 

A  husband  giving  his  wife  her  lover's  heart 
to  eat  is  a  feature  in  an  extensive  series  of 
poems  and  tales,  suflBciently  represented  for 
present  purposes  by  the  ninth  tale  in  the 
fourth  day  of  the  Decameron,  and  no  further 
explanation  is  required  of  the  admixture  in  the 
Scandinavian  ballad.* 

In  Danish  A  a,  b,  h,  o,  B  b,  two  lilies 
spring  from  the  common  grave  of  the  lovers, 
and  embrace  or  grow  together.  In  B  k,  1,  F 
b,  e,  f,  and  Kristensen,  XI,  No  46,  the  lovers 
are  buried  apart  (she  south,  he  north,  of  kirk, 
etc.),  a  lily  springs  from  each,  and  the  two 
grow  together. 

Low  and  High  Qerman,  Dutch.  A. 
'  Brennenberg,'  12  stanzas,  Uhland,  I,  158, 
No  76  A,  Niederdeutsches  Liederbuch,  No 
44,  conjectured  to  be  of  the  beginning  of 
the  seventeenth  century.  '  Der  Bremberger,' 
Bohme,  p.  87,  No  23  B  (omitting  sts  3,  4)  ; 
Simrock,  Die  deutschen  Volkslieder,  p.  14, 
No  5,  Die  geschichtlichen  deutschen  Sagen, 
p.  325,  No  105  (omitting  sts  1-4,  and  turned 
into  High  German).  B.  '  Ein  schoner  Brem- 
berger,' 8  stanzas,  flying-sheet,  8°,  Niirnberg, 
Valentin  Newber,  about  1550-70,  Bohme, 
No  23  A ;  Wunderhorn,  ed.  Erk,  1857,  IV, 
41,  modernized.  O.  '  Van  Brandenborch,' 
6  stanzas,  Antwerpener  Liederbuch,  1544,  ed. 


*  There  is  a  mixture  of  Decameron,  iv,  1  and  9  (with 
arbitrary  variations),  in  Palmerin  of  England  (ch.  87,  II,  328, 
of  Southey's  edition  of  the  English  translation).  Artibel  vis- 
ited the  Princess  Brandisia  in  a  tower,  ascending  by  a  rope. 
One  night  he  was  taken.  He  was  shut  up  till  the  princess  was 


delivered  of  a  child  (cf.  the  Scottish  ballad).  Then  the 
father  took  Artibel's  heart  and  sent  it  to  Brandisia  in  a  cup. 
She  filled  the  cup  with  her  tears,  and  sent  the  cnp  of  tears 
to  her  father,  reserving  the  heart,  dressed  herself  in  her 
bravest  apparel,  and  cast  herself  headlong  from  the  tower. 


32 


269,    LADY  DIAMOND 


Hojffmann,  p.  120,  No  81 ;  HoflFmann's  Nie- 
derlandische  Volkslieder,  1856,  p.  34,  No  7 
(omitting  st.  6);  Uhland,  No  75  B.  D  a. 
Grasliedlin,  1535,  one  st.,  Bohme,  No  23  a ; 
Uhland,  No  75  C.  b.  The  same,  heard  on 
the  Lower  Rhine,  1850,  Bohme,  No  23  b. 

*  Brunenborch,'  Willems,  No  53,  p.  135, 
21  stanzas,  purports  to  be  a  critical  text,  con- 
structed partly  from  copies  communicated  to 
the  editor  ("  for  the  piece  is  to  this  day  sung 
in  Flanders  "),  and  partly  from  O,  A,  D  a, 
and  Hoffmann,  No  6.*  It  is  not  entitled  to 
confidence. 

All  the  versions  are  meagre,  and  A  seems  to 
be  corrupted  and  defective  at  the  beginning.! 

A  youth,  B  2,  has  watched  a  winter-long 
night,  brought  thereto  by  a  fair  maid,  A  1,  3, 
B  1,  to  whom  he  has  devoted  his  heart  and 
thoughts,  and  with  whom  he  wishes  to  make 
off,  A,  B.  Ill  news  comes  to  the  maid,  B  2, 
that  her  lover  is  a  prisoner,  and  has  been 
thrown  into  a  tower.  There  Brennenberg 
(A,  der  Bremberger,  B,  Brandenborch,  C,  der 
Brandenburger,  D  a)  lay  seven  years  or  more, 
till  his  head  was  white  and  his  beard  was  gray. 
They  laid  him  on  a  table  and  slit  him  like  a 
fish,  J  cut  out  his  heart,  dressed  it  with  pep- 
per, and  gave  it  to  the  fairest.  A,  the  dame,  B, 
the  dearest,  C,  to  eat.  '  What  hav6  I  eaten 
that  tasted  so  good  ? '  *  Brennenberg's  heart,' 
A.  *  If  it  is  his  heart,  pour  wine  for  me,  and 
give  me  to  drink.'  She  set  the  beaker  to  her 
mouth,  and  drank  it  to  the  bottom,  B.  The 
first  drop  she  drank,  her  heart  broke  into  a 
dozen  bits,  A,  C.  (Their  love  was  pure,  such 
as  no  one  could  forbid,  A  11 ;  the  same  im- 
plied in  A  12,  O  6.) 


The  German-Dutch  ballad,  though  printed 
two  hundred  years  before  any  known  copy 
of  the  Swedish-Danish,  is  much  less  explicit. 
The  lady  is  certainly  a  maid  in  B,  and  she  is 
a  maid  in  A  if  the  first  stanza  is  accepted 
as  belonging  to  the  ballad.  Then  it  should 
be  her  father  who  proceeds  so  cruelly  against 
her.  The  wine-drinking,  followed  by  speedy 
death,  may  come,  as  it  almost  certainly  does 
in  some  of  the  Scandinavian  ballads,  from 
the  story  of  Ghismonda ;  and  therefore  the  i 
German-Dutch  ballads,  as  they  stand,  may/ 
perhaps  be  treated  as  a  blending  of  the  first 
and  the  ninth  tale  of  Boccaccio's  fourth  day.\(^ 
But  there  is  a  German  meisterlied,  printed,  ^"^ 
like  B,  C,  D  a,  in  the  sixteenth  century,  which 
has  close  relation  with  these  ballads,  and 
much  more  of  Boccaccio's  ninth  tale  in  it: 
'  Von  dem  Brembergers  end  und  tod,'  von  der 
Hagen's  Minnesinger,  IV,  281,  Wunderhorn, 
1808,  II,  229,  epitomized  in  the  Grimms' 
Deutsche  Sagen,  II,  211,  No  500.  The  knight 
Bremberger  has  loved  another  man's  wife. 
The  husband  cuts  off  his  head,  and  gives  his 
heart  to  the  lady  to  eat.  He  asks  her  if  she 
can  tell  what  she  has  eaten.  She  would  be 
glad  to  know,  it  tasted  so  good.  She  is  told 
that  it  is  Bremberger's  heart.  She  says  she 
will  take  a  drink  upon  it,  and  never  eat  or 
drink  more.  The  lady  hastens  from  table  to 
her  chamber,  grieves  over  Bremberger's  fate, 
protesting  that  they  had  never  been  too  inti- 
mate, starves  herself,  and  dies  the  eleventh 
day.  The  husband  suffers  great  pangs  for 
having  *  betrayed  '§  her  and  her  deserving 
servant,  and  sticks  a  knife  into  his  heart.  || 

The  incident  of  a  husband  giving  his  wife 


7 


*  This  is  a  Dutch  ballad  of  Brennenberg  without  the  ex- 
traction of  the  heart,  MS.  of  the  end  of  the  fifteenth  century. 
(Sts  1,  2  resemble,  A  3, 4.)  A  fair  lady  offers  Branenburch 
a  rose  garland ;  a  knight  observes  this,  goes  to  his  master, 
and  tells  him,  Brunenburch  has  been  sleeping  with  your  wife. 
Brunenburch  is  imprisoned  in  a  tower,  and  after  a  time  sent 
to  the  gallows.  The  lady  rides  to  the  gallows.  She  has 
seven  bold  brothers,  who  will  avenge  his  death.  Brunen- 
burch affirms  and  reaffirms  his  innocence.  The  lady  vows 
never  to  braid  her  hair,  etc.  (Cf.  II,  156  f.)  Frydenborg  is 
hanged  in  Danish  A  d,  n,  Z!  b,  and  his  heart  then  taken 
out. 

t  In  A  3,  4,  which  (as  also  A  1  and  B  1)  are  in  the  first 
person,  a  fair  maid  offers  the  singer  a  rose  garland.    This 


warrants  no  inference  of  community  with  the  Scandinavian 
ballad.  The  passage  probably  does  not  belong  in  the  ballad. 
Compare  the  beginning  of  Hofflnann,  No  6,  and  a  song  of 
John  I  of  Brabant,  Willems,  p.  13,  No  5. 

i  *  Recht  so  einem  wildenschwin,'  A  8,  brings  to  mind 
*  quel  cuor  di  cinghiare,'  in  Decameron,  iv,  9,  but,  consider- 
ing the  *  recht  wo  einen  visch '  of  A  7,  may  be  judged  an 
accidental  correspondence. 

§  It  is  to  be  noted  that  the  father  reproaches  himself  for 
'  betraying '  his  only  child  in  the  Swedish  ballad,  and  in 
Danish  A  1,  F  a,  c,  d. 

II  A  meisterlied,  of  about  1500  (Bohme),  noted  by  Goe- 
deke,  Grundriss,  §  139,  No  7  c,  has  not  been  reprinted. 


369.    LADY  DIAMOND 


33 


? 


her  lover's  heart  to  eat  occurs  in  a  considerable 
number  of  tales  and  poems  in  literature,  and 
in  all  is  obviously  of  the  same  source. 

Ysolt,  in  the  romance  of  Tristan,  twelfth 
century,  sings  a  lai  how  Guirun  was  slain  for 
love  of  a  lady,  and  his  heart  given  by  the 
count  to  his  wife  to  eat.  (Michel,  III,  39,  vv. 
781-90.) 

Ramon  de  Castel  Rossillon  (Raimons  de 
Rosillon)  cut  off  the  head  of  Guillems  de 
Cabestaing,  lover  of  his  wife,  Seremonda 
(Margarita),  took  the  heart  from  the  body, 

*  fetz  lo  raustir  e  far  pebrada,'  and  gave  it  to 
his  wife  to  eat.  He  then  told  her  what  she 
had  been  eating  (showing  her  Cabestaing's 
head),  and  asked  her  if  it  was  good.  So  good, 
she  said,  that  she  would  never  eat  or  drink 
more ;  hearing  which,  her  husband  rushed  at 
her  with  his  sword,  and  she  fled  to  a  balcony, 
let  herself  fall  (threw  herself  from  a  window), 
and  was  killed.    (Chabaneau,  Les  Biographies 

'  des  Troubadours  en  langue  proven<;ale,  pp. 
99-103,  MSS  of  the  thirteenth  and  the  four- 
teenth  century.)      Nearly   the    same   story, 

*  secondo  che  raccontano  i  provenzali,'  in  the 
Decameron,  iv,  9,  of  Messer  Guiglielmo  Ros- 
siglione  and  Messer  Guiglielmo  Guardastagno. 
The  lady  says  that  she  liked  very  much  the 
dish  which  she  had  eaten,  and  the  husband. 
No  wonder  that  you  should  like  when  it  was 
dead  the  thing  which  you  liked  best  of  all 
when  it  was  living :  what  you  have  eaten  was 
Guardastagno's  heart.  God  forbid,  replies 
the  lady,  that  I  should  swallow  anything  else 
after  so  noble  a  repast ;  then  lets  herself  drop 
from  a  high  window. 

In  Konrad  von  Wiirzburg,  '  Das  Herz,' 
'Das  Herzmare,'  1260-70,  five  or  six  hun- 
dred verses,  a  knight  and  a  lady  are  inflamed 
with  a  mutual  passion  (tugendhafter  mann, 
reines  weib).  The  lady's  husband  conceives 
that  he  may  break  this  up  by  taking  her  to 
the  Holy  Land.  In  that  case,  the  knight  pro- 
poses to  follow ;  but  the  lady  prevails  upon 
him  to  go  before  her  husband  shall  take  this 
step,  with  the  object  of  lulling  his  jealousy 
and  stopping  the  world's  talk.  The  knight 
goes,  and  dies  of  the  separation.  As  his  end 
was  approaching,  he  had  ordered  his  attendant 


to  take  out  his  heart,  embalm  it,  enclose  it  in 
a  gold  box,  and  carry  it  to  the  lady.  The 
husband  lights  upon  the  emissary,  takes  away 
the  box,  directs  his  cook  to  make  a  choice 
dish  of  the  heart,  and  has  this  set  before  his 
wife  for  her  exclusive  enjoyment.  He  asks 
her  how  she  finds  it,  and  she  declares  that  she 
has  never  eaten  anything  so  delicious.  She 
is  then  told  that  she  has  eaten  the  knight's 
heart,  sent  her  by  him  as  a  token.  God 
defend,  she  exclaims,  that  any  ordinary  food 
should  pass  my  mouth  after  so  precious  victual, 
and  thereupon  dies  (von  der  Hagen's  Ge- 
sammtabenteuer,  I,  225).  The  same  story  is 
introduced  as  an  "example"  in  a  sermon- 
book  :  '  Quidam  miles  tutpiter  adamavit  ux- 
orem  alterius  militis.'  *  The  lady  kills  her- 
self. 

Again,  in  a  romance  of  eight  thousand 
verses,  of  the  Chatelain  de  Couci  and  la 
Dame  de  Faiel  (of  the  end  of  the  thirteenth 
or  the  beginning  of  the  fourteenth  century), 
with  the  difference  that  the  ch§,telain  takes 
the  cross,  is  wounded  with  a  poisoned  arrow, 
and  dies  on  his  way  to  France.  (Jakemon 
Sakesep,  Roman  du  Chatelain  de  Couci,  etc., 
ed.  Crapelet,  1829.)  From  this  romance  was 
derived  The  Knight  of  Curtesy  and  the  Fair 
Lady  of  Faguell  (in  which  the  lady  is  chaste 
to  her  lord  as  is  the  turtle  upon  the  tree),  five 
hundred  verses,  Ritson's  Metrical  Romancees, 
III,  193,  from  an  edition  by  William  Copland, 
"before  1568;"  also  a  chap-book,  curiously 
adapted  to  its  time,  '  The  Constant  but  Un- 
happy Lovers,'  London,  1707  (cited  by  Clous- 
ton,  Popular  Tales  and  Fictions,  II,  191). 

Descending  to  tradition  of  the  present  time, 
we  find  in  the  adventures  of  R4j4  Ras&lu,  as 
told  in  verse  and  prose  in  the  north  of  India, 
surprising  agreements  with  Boccaccio's  tale : 
a.  Temple's  Legends  of  the  Panj§,b,  I,  64  f., 
1883.  b.  The  same.  III,  240  f.,  1886.  o. 
Swynnerton  in  the  Folk-Lore  Journal,  I, 
143  ff.,  1883,  and  in  The  Adventures  of  R^jA 
Rasdlu,  1884,  pp.  130-35.  d.  Clouston,  Popu- 
lar Tales  and  Fictions,  II,  192,  from  a  book 

*  Sermones  Parati,  No  124,  ninth  Sunday  after  Trinity  : 
cited  by  M.  Gaston  Paris,  Histoire  Litt^raire  de  la  France, 
XXVni,  382  f . 


fA-*-" 


T*^' 


84 


269.    LADY  DIAMOND 


privately  printed,  1851.  R^jd,  Ras41u  kills 
his  wife's  lover,  tears  out  his  heart,  a,  heart 
and  liver,  d,  takes  of  his  flesh,  b,  o,  roasts  and 
gives  to  his  wife  to  eat.  She  finds  the  meat 
is  very  good,  a,  no  venison  was  ever  so  dainty, 
o.  The  king  retorts,  You  enjoyed  him  when 
he  was  living  ;  why  should  you  not  relish  his 
flesh  now  that  he  is  dead  ?  and  shows  her  the 
body  of  his  rival.  She  leaps  from  the  palace 
wall  and  is  killed  (o  only).  (Rdj4  Rasdlu  is 
assigned  to  our  second  century.) 

A  Danish  ballad  in  Syv's  collection,  1695, 
has  one  half  of  the  story.  A  king  has  a  man 
for  whom  his  wife  has  a  fancy  chopped  up 
and  cooked  and  served  to  the  queen.  She 
does  not  eat.  ('  Livsvandet,'  Grundtvig,  II, 
604,  No  94  A,  Prior,  I,  391.) 

Very  like  the  Indian  and  the  Provencal 
Bagey  but  with  change  of  the  parts  of  husband 
and  wife,  is  what  Mme  d'Aulnoy  relates  as 
having  been  enacted  in  the  Astorga  family, 
in  Spain,  in  the  seventeenth  century.  The 
Marchioness  of  Astorga  kills  a  beautiful  girl 
of  whom  her  husband  is  enamored,  tears  out 
her  heart,  and  gives  it  to  her  husband  in  a 
stew.  She  asks  him  if  the  dish  was  to  his 
taste,  and  he  says.  Yes.  No  wonder,  says  the 
wife,  for  it  was  the  heart  of  the  mistress  whom 
you  loved  so  much ;  and  then  produces  the 
gory  head.  (Mdmoires  de  la  Cour  d'Espagne, 
La  Haye,  1691,  I,  108.) 

Going  back  to  the  twelfth  century,  we  come, 
even  at  that  early  date,  upon  one  of  those  ex- 


travagances, not  to  say  travesties,  which  are 
apt  to  follow  successful  strokes  of  invention. 
Ignaure  loves  and  is  loved  by  twelve  dames. 
The  husbands  serve  his  heart  to  their  twelve 
wives,  who,  when  they  are  apprised  of  what 
has  passed,  duly  vow  that  they  will  never  eat 
again  after  the  precious  mess  which  they 
have  enjoyed.  (Lai  d'lgnaur^s,  ed.  Mon- 
merqu^  et  Michel.)  There  are  relics  of  a 
similar  story  in  Proven9al  and  in  German, 
and  a  burlesque  tale  to  the  same  effect  was 
popular  in  Italy :  Le  Cento  Novelle  Antiche, 
of  about  1300,  Biagi,  Le  Novelle  Antiche, 
1880,  p.  38,  No  29.* 

A  kitchen-boy  plays  a  part  of  some  conse- 
quence in  several  other  ballads.  A  kitchen- 
boy  is  the  hero  of  No  252,  IV,  400,  a  very 
poor  ballad,  to  be  sure.  There  is  a  bad  tell- 
tale of  a  kitchen-boy  in  '  Lady  Maisry,'  A, 
No  65,  II,  114,  and  there  is  a  high-minded 
kitchen-boy  in  'The  Lady  Isabella's  Tra- 
gedy.' f  '  A  ballett.  The  Kitchen  -  boyes 
Songe'  (whatever  this  may  be),  is  entered 
as  licensed  to  John  Aide  in  the  Stationers' 
Registers,  1570-71,  Arber,  I,  438.  In  about 
half  of  the  versions  of  '  Der  grausame  Bru- 
der '  (see  II,  101  f .),  the  king  of  England  pre- 
sents himself  as  a  kiichenjung  to  the  brother 
of  a  lady  whom  he  asks  in  marriage  after  a 
clandestine  intimacy. 

A  is  translated  by  Knortz,  Schottische  Bal- 
laden,  p.  22,  No  9. 


*  The  older  literature  is  noted,  with  his  usual  fulness,  by 
von  der  Hagen,  Gesammtabenteuer,  I,  cxvi-xxi.  See,  also, 
Dunlop's  History  of  Fiction,  ed.  Wilson,  II,  95  f.  M.  Gas- 
ton Paris  has  critically  reviewed  the  whole  matter,  with 
an  account  of  modern  French  imitations  of  the  romance  of 
the  Chatelain  de  Couci,  in  Histoire  Litteraire  de  la  France, 
XXVni,  352-90.  See,  also,  his  article  in  Romania,  XII, 
359  ff. 

t  See  Percy's  Reliques,  1765,  in,  154,  and  Ebsworth, 
Roxburghe  Ballads,  VI,  650.  It  is  in  many  of  the  collec- 
tions of  black-letter  broadsides  besides  the  Roxburghe,  as 
Pepys,  Wood,  Crawford,  etc.  Though  perhaps  absolutely 
the  silliest  ballad  that  ever  was  made,  and  very  far  from 


silly  sooth,  the  broadside  was  traditionally  propagated  in  I 
Scotland  without  so  much  change  as  is  usual  in  such  cases : 
'  There  livd  a  knight  in  Jesuitmont.'  Scotch  Ballads,  Ma-  f 
terials  for  Border  Minstrelsy,  No  22  e,  Abbotsford,  in  the 
handwriting  of  William  Laidlaw,  derived  from  Jean  Scott ; 
'  The  Knight  in  Jesnite,'  Campbell  MSS,  II,  63  ;  '  There  was 
a  knight  in  Jessamay,'  Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  399,  from  Agnes 
Laird,  of  Kilbarchan.  Percy's  ballad  is  translated  by 
Bodmer,  I,  167,  and  by  Doring,  p.  91.  The  tragedy  is  said 
to  be  localized  at  Radcliflfe,  Lancashire :  Harland,  Ballads 
and  Songs  of  Lancashire,  ed.  1879,  p.  46,  Roby's  Tradi- 
tions of  Lancashire,  1879,1,  107,  both  citing  Dr  Whitaker's 


269.    LADY  DIAMOND 


36 


rv 


Aytoim's  Ballads  of  Scotland,  11,  173, 1859,  from  the  rec- 
ollection of  a  ladj  residing  at  Eirkaldy. 

1  There  was  a  king,  and  a  very  great  king, 

And  a  king  of  meikle  fame  ; 
He  had  not  a  child  in  the  world  but  ane, 
Lady  Daisy  was  her  name. 

2  He  had  a  very  bonnie  kitchen-boy, 

And  William  was  his  name  ; 
He  never  lay  out  o  Lady  Daisy's  bower, 
Tin  he  brought  her  body  to  shame. 

3  When  een-birds  sung,  and  een-bells  rung. 

And  a'  men  were  boune  to  rest. 
The  king  went  on  to  Lady  Daisy's  bower. 
Just  like  a  wandering  ghaist. 

4  He  has  drawn  the  curtains  round  and  round, 

And  there  he  has  sat  him  down  ; 
*  To  whom  is  this.  Lady  Daisy,'  he  says, 
'  That  now  you  gae  so  round  ? 

5  '  Is  it  to  a  laird  ?  or  is  it  to  a  lord  ? 

Or  a  baron  of  high  degree  ? 
Or  is  it  William,  my  bonnie  kitchen-boy  ? 
TeU  now  the  truth  to  me.' 

6  '  It 's  no  to  a  laird,  and  it 's  no  to  a  lord, 

Nor  a  baron  of  high  degree  ; 
But  it 's  to  William,  your  bonnie  kitchen-boy : 
What  cause  hae  I  to  lee  ? ' 


7  *  0  where  is  all  my  merry,  merry  men. 

That  I  pay  meat  and  fee. 
That  they  will  not  take  out  this  kitchen-boy, 
And  kill  him  presentlie  ?  ' 

8  They  hae  taen  out  this  bonnie  kitchen-boy. 

And  killd  him  on  the  plain  ; 
His  hair  was  like  the  threads  o  gold, 

His  een  like  crystal  stane ; 
His  hair  was  like  the  threads  o  gold, 

His  teeth  hke  ivory  bane. 

9  They  hae  taen  out  this  bonnie  boy's  heart, 

Put  it  in  a  cup  o  gold ; 
'  Take  that  to  Lady  Daisy,'  he  said, 

*  For  she  's  impudent  and  bold  ; ' 

And  she  washd  it  with  the  tears  that  ran  from 
her  eye 
Into  the  cup  of  gold. 

10  '  Now  fare  ye  weel,  my  father  the  king ! 

You  hae  taen  my  earthly  joy ; 
Since  he  's  died  for  me,  I  '11  die  for  him, 
My  bonnie  kitchen-boy.' 

11  *  O  where  is  all  my  merry,  merry  men, 

That  I  pay  meat  and  wage. 
That  they  could  not  withold  my  cruel  hand. 
When  I  waa  mad  with  rage  ? 

12  *  I  think  nae  wonder,  Lady  Daisy,'  he  said, 

*  That  he  brought  your  body  to  shame  ; 
For  there  never  was  man  of  woman  born 

Sae  fair  as  him  that  is  slain.' 


B 


^r-\ 


From  "The    Old  Lady's  Collection,"  formerly  in  the 
possession  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  No  41. 

1  Ther  was  a  king,  an  a  worthy  king, 

[An  a  king]  of  birth  an  fame ; 
He  had  an  only  dear  daughter. 
An  Dayesie  was  her  name. 

2  Ther  was  a  boy  about  the  house, 

Bold  Roben  was  his  name ; 
He  would  not  stay  out  of  Dayese's  hour, 
Till  he  brought  her  body  [to]  shame. 

3  When  bells  was  rung,     ... 

An  a'  man  bon  to  rest. 


The  king  went  up  to  Lady  Dayese's  bonr. 
He  was  an  unwelcom  gast. 

4*0  Lady  Dayese,  deap,d[ea]r  Dayisie, 
What  gars  ye  gae  sae  round  ? 
We  yer  tua  sides  high  an  yer  beUie  bige, 
Fra  yer  face  the  couller  is  gane.' 

5  *  O  have  ye  loved  ?  or  have  ye  lang-sought  ? 

Or  die  ye  goo  we  bam  ?  ' 
*  It 's  all  for  you,  fair  father, 
That  ye  stayed  so  long  in  Spain.' 

6  '  It 's  aff  ye  take  yer  berry-broun  goon,  ~ 

An  ye  lay  it  on  a  ston, 


^ 


r/r^ 


86 


269.    LADT  DIAMOND 


An  I  will  tell  you  in  a  very  short  time 
If  ye  loued  any  man  or  no[n].' 

7  It 's  afiE  she  has  tane  her  berry-broun  goon, 

An  laid  it  on  a  ston ; 
We  her  tua  sides  high,  her  belley  turned  bigg, 
Fra  her  face  the  couller  was  gane. 

8  *  O  is  it  to  lord  ?  or  is  to  lard  ? 

Or  till  a  man  of  mean  ? 
Or  is  it  to  Bold  Roben,  the  kittchen-boy  ? 
Nou,  Dayisie,  diime  lea[n].' 

9  <  It 's  no  to  leard,  nor  [to]  lord, 

Nor  to  a  man  of  mean, 
But  it 's  to  Bold  Robien,  our  kittchen-boy ; 
Fatt  neads  me  for  to  lea[n]  ? ' 


10 


It 's  the  morn  bef  or  I  eat  or  drink 
His  heart-blude  I  sail  see.' 

11  He  's  tean  Bold  Robien  by  the  hand 
Lead  him  across  the  green ; 


His  hear  was  leak  the  very  threeds  of  goud. 
His  face  shone  leak  the  moon. 

12  He  's  tane  out  this  bonny  boy's  hear[t] 

Into  a  cupe  of  gold. 
Had  it  to  Lady  Dayese's  hour, 
Says,  No[u],  DayesS,  behold  I 

13  *  O  welcom  to  me  my  heart's  delight ! 

Nou  welcom  to  me  my  joy ! 
Ye  have  dayed  for  me,  an  I  '11  day  for  ye, 
Tho  ye  be  but  the  kittchen-boy.' 

14  She  has  taen  out  the  coup  of  gold, 

Lead  it  belou  her  head, 
An  she  wish  it  we  the  tears  ran  doun  fra  her 
eays. 
An  or  midnight  she  was  dead. 

15  She  has  tean  out  the  coup  of  gold, 

Laid  it  belou  her  hear. 
An  she  wish  it  we  the  tears  ran  don  fra  her 
eays. 
An  alass !  spak  never  mare. 


C(^    o 


// 


Sharpe's  Ballad  Book,  No  4,  p.  12,  as  sung  by  Mary 
Johnston,  dairy  maid  at  Hoddam  Castle. 

1  There  was  a  king,  and  a  glorious  king. 

And  a  king  of  mickle  fame. 

And  he  had  daughters  only  one, 

Lady  Dysmal  was  her  name. 

2  He  had  a  boy,  and  a  kitchen-boy, 

A  boy  of  mickle  scorn. 
And  she  lovd  him  lang,  and  she  loved  him  aye, 
Till  the  grass  oergrew  the  corn. 

3  When  twenty  weeks  were  gone  and  past, 

O  she  began  to  greet ! 
Her  petticoat  grew  short  before. 
And  her  stays  they  wadna  meet. 

4  It  fell  upon  a  winter's  night 

The  king  could  get  nae  rest ; 
He  cam  unto  his  daughter  dear, 
Just  like  a  wandring  ghaist. 


5  He  cam  into  her  bed-chalmer, 

And  drew  the  curtains  round : 
*  What  aileth  thee,  my  daughter  dear  ? 
I  fear  you  've  gotten  wrong.' 

6  '  0  if  I  have,  despise  me  not, 

For  he  is  all  my  joy ; 
I  will  forsake  baith  dukes  and  earls. 
And  marry  your  kitchen-boy.' 

7  *  Go  call  to  me  my  merry  men  all, 

By  thirty  and  by  three ; 
Go  call  to  me  my  kitchen-boy. 
We  'U  murder  him  secretlie.' 

8  There  was  nae  din  that  could  be  heard, 

And  neer  a  word  was  said. 
Till  they  got  him  baith  fast  and  sure 
Between  twa  feather-beds. 

9  '  Go  cut  the  heart  out  of  his  breast, 

And  put  it  in  a  cup  of  gold. 
And  present  it  to  his  Dysmal  dear, 
For  she  is  baith  stout  and  bold.' 


2«9.    LADY  DIAMOND 


87 


10  They  've  cut  the  heart  out  of  his  breast, 

And  put  it  in  a  cup  of  gold, 
And  presented  it  to  his  Dysmal  dear, 
Who  was  baith  stout  and  bold. 

11  '  O  come  to  me,  my  hinney,  my  heart, 

O  come  to  me,  my  joy ! 
O  come  to  me,  my  hinney,  my  heart 
My  father's  kitchen-boy ! ' 

12  She 's  taen  the  cup  out  of  their  hands, 

And  set  it  at  her  bed-head ; 


She  washd  it  wi  the  tears  that  fell  from  her 
eyes, 
And  next  morning  she  was  dead. 

13  '  O  where  were  ye,  my  merry  men  aU, 

Whom  I  paid  meat  and  wage, 
Ye  didna  hold  my  cruel  hand 
When  I  was  in  my  rage  ? 

14  *  For  gone  is  a'  my  heart's  delight. 

And  gone  is  a'  my  joy ; 
For  my  dear  Dysmal  she  is  dead. 
And  so  is  my  kitchen-boy.' 


D     C.M 

Bnchan's  MSS,  11, 164. 

1  There  was  a  king,  and  a  curious  king, 

And  a  king  of  royal  fame, 
He  had  ae  daughter,  he  had  never  mair, 
Lady  Diamond  was  her  name. 

2  She 's  fa'en  into  shame,  and  lost  her  good  name, 

And  wrought  her  parents  'noy ; 
And  a'  for  her  layen  her  love  so  low, 
On  her  father's  kitchen-boy. 

3  One  night  as  she  lay  on  her  bed, 

Just  thinking  to  get  rest. 
Up  it  came  her  old  father. 
Just  like  a  wandering  ghaist. 

4  '  Rise  up,  rise  up,  Lady  Diamond,'  he  says, 

*  Rise  up,  put  on  your  gown ; 
Rise  up,  rise  up,  Lady  Diamond,'  he  says, 
'  For  I  fear  ye  go  too  roun.' 

5  *  Too  roun  I  go,  ye  blame  me  no. 

Ye  cause  me  not  to  shame ; 
For  better  love  I  that  bonny  boy 
Than  all  your  well-bred  men.' 


6  The  king  'a  calld  up  his  wall-wight  men, 

That  he  paid  meat  and  fee : 

*  Bring  here  to  me  that  bonny  boy. 

And  we  '11  smore  him  right  quietlie.* 

7  Up  hae  they  taken  that  bonny  boy. 

Put  him  between  twa  feather-beds ; 
Naething  was  dane,  naething  was  said, 
Till  that  bonny  boy  was  dead. 

8  The  king 's  taen  out  a  broad,  broad  sword, 

And  streakd  it  on  a  strow. 
And  thro  and  thro  that  bonny  boy's  heart 
He 's  gart  cauld  iron  go. 

9  Out  he  has  taen  his  poor  bloody  heart, 

Set  it  on  a  tasse  of  gold. 
And  set  it  before  Lady  Diamond's  face. 
Said,  Fair  lady,  behold  ! 

10  Up  she  has  taen  this  poor  bloody  heart, 

And  holden  it  in  her  hand  : 

*  Better  loved  I  that  bonny,  bonny  boy 

Than  all  my  father's  land.* 

11  Up  she  has  taen  his  poor  bloody  heart 

And  laid  it  at  her  head ; 
The  tears  away  frae  her  eyes  did  fly. 
And  ere  midnight  she  was  dead. 


E        t^ 

Joseph  Robertson, "  Adversaria,"  p.  66 ;  noted  down  from 

a  female  servant,  July  15,  1829. 

1  It  was  a  king,  and  a  verra  greit  king. 
An  a  king  o  muckle  fame, 


An  he  had  a  luvelie  dauchter  fair, 
An  Dysie  was  her  name. 

2  She  fell  in  love  wi  the  kitchie-boy, 
An  a  verra  bonnie  boy  was  he, 


m 


270.    THE  EABL  OP  MAR'S  DAUGHTER 


An  word  has  gane  till  her  father  dear, 
An  an  angry  man  was  he. 

3  '  Is  it  the  laird  ?  or  is  it  the  lord  ? 

Or  a  man  o  high  degree  ? 
Or  is  it  to  Robin,  the  kitchie-boy  ? 
O  Dysie  mak  nae  lee.' 

4  '  It 's  nae  the  laird,  nor  is  it  the  lord, 

Nor  a  man  o  high  degree, 
But  it 's  to  Robin,  the  kitchie-boy ; 
What  occasion  hae  I  to  lee  ? ' 


5  '  If  it  be  to  Robin,  the  kitchie-boy, 

As  I  trust  weel  it  be, 
The  mom,  afore  ye  eat  meal  or  drink, 
Ye  'U  see  him  hanged  hie.' 

6  They  have  taen  Robin  out, 

His  hair  was  like  threads  o  gold ; 
That  verra  day  afore  it  was  night, 
Death  made  young  Dysie  cold. 


> 


B.   Written  without  division  into  stanzas  or  verses. 

3".  to  bed. 

8*.  didde  lea. 

O.  "Mary  Johnston,  our  dairymaid   at  Hoddam 

Castle,  used  to  sing  this.     It  had  a  very 

pretty  air,  and  some  more  verses  which  I 


have  now  forgot."     Sharpe's  Ballad-Book, 
1880,  p.  128. 
D.  A  little  Scotticized  by  Buchan  in  printing,  and 
still  more  by  Dixon. 
9".  tasse  is  tarse  in  my  transcript ;  probably 
miscopied. 


270 

THE  EARL  OF  MAR'S  DAUGHTER 

•  The  Earl  of  Mar's  Daughter,'  Buchan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  I,  49;  Motherwell's  MS.  p.  565. 


The  Earl  of  Mar's  daughter  spies  a  dove 
on  a  tower,  and  promises  him  a  golden  cage 
if  he  will  come  to  her.  The  dove  lights  on 
her  head,  and  she  takes  him  into  her  bower. 
When  night  comes,  she  sees  a  youth  standing 
by  her  side.  The  youth  explains  that  his 
mother,  a  queen  versed  in  magic,  had  trans- 
formed him  into  a  dove  that  he  might  charm 
maids.  He  is  a  dove  by  day,  a  man  at  night, 
and  will  live  and  die  with  her.  In  the  course 
of  seven  years  seven  sons  are  born,  all  of 
whom  are  successively  committed  to  the  care 
of  the  queen  their  grandmother.  After  the 
twenty-third  year  a  lord  comes  to  court  the 
lady.  She  refuses  him :  she  will  live  alone 
with  her  bird.  Her  father  swears  that  he  will 
kill  this  bird,  and  Cow-me-doo  prudently  takes 
refuge  with  his  mother,  v^ho  vrelcomes  home 


her  'young  son  Florentine,'  and  calls  for 
dancers  and  minstrels.  Cow-me-doo  Floren- 
tine will  have  none  of  that ;  the  situation  is  too 
serious.  The  morrow  the  mother  of  his  seven 
sons  is  to  be  wedded ;  instead  of  merry-mak- 
ing, he  desires  to  have  twenty  stout  men 
turned  into  storks,  his  seven  sons  into  swans, 
and  himself  into  a  goshawk.  This  feat  is 
beyond  his  mother's  (quite  limited)  magic, 
but  it  is  done  by  an  old  woman  who  has  more 
skill.  The  birds  fly  to  Earl  Mar's  castle, 
where  the  wedding  is  going  on.  The  storks 
seize  some  of  the  noble  guests,  the  swans  bind 
the  bride's  best  man  to  a  tree,  and  in  a  twin- 
kling the  bride  and  her  maidens  are  carried 
off  by  the  birds.  The  Earl  of  Mar  reconciles 
himself  with  his  daughter. 

There    is  a   Scandinavian    ballad    which 


2T0.    THE  EABL  OF  MAR'S  DAUGHTER 


39 


w« 


J^ 


Grundtvig  has  treated  as  identical  with  this, 
but  the  two  have  little  in  common  beyond  the 
assumption  of  the  bird-shape  by  the  lover. 
They  are,  perhaps,  on  a  par  for  barrenness 
and  folly,  but  the  former  may  claim  some 
age  and  vogue,  the  Scottish  ballad  neither. 

Danish.  *  Ridderen  i  Fugleham,'  Grundt- 
vig, II,  226,  No  68,  A-C  (C  is  translated  by 
Prior,  III,  206);  'Herr  Jon  som  Fugl,' 
Kristensen,  I,  161,  No  59,  X,  23,  No  11,  A, 
B.  In  Grundtvig's  A  (MS.  of  the  sixteenth 
century),  the  son  of  the  king  of  England 
wooes  a  maid,  sending  her  rich  presents.  Her 
mother  says  he  shall  never  have  her  daughter, 
and  this  message  his  envoys  take  back  to  him. 
He  is  angry,  and  has  a  bird's  coat  forged  for 
him  out  of  nine  gold  rings  (but  his  behavior 
thereafter  is  altogether  birdlike).  He  sits  on 
the  ridgepole  of  the  maid's  bower  and  sings. 
The  maid  exclaims,  Christ  grant  thou  wert 
mine  !  thou  shouldst  drink  naught  but  wine, 
I  /  and  sleep  in  my  arms.  I  would  send  thee  to 
England,  as  a  gift  to  my  love.  She  sits  down 
on  the  ground ;  the  bird  flies  into  her  bosom. 
She  takes  the  bird  into  her  bower ;  he  throws 
ofE  his  bird-coat,  and  is  recognized.  The  maid 
begs  him  to  do  her  no  shame.  '  Not  if  you 
will  go  to  England  with  me,'  he  answers, 
takes  her  up,  and  wings  his  way  thither. 
There  he  marries  her,  and  gives  her  a  crown 
and  a  queen's  name. 

In  Grundtvig  B,  the  bird  is  a  falcon.  The 
maid  will  have  no  man  that  cannot  fly.  Mas- 
ter Hillebrand,  son  of  the  king  of  England, 
learns  this  fact,  and  has  a  bird's  coat  made 
for  him,  enters  the  room  where  man  had  never 
been  before,  sleeps  under  white  linen,  and  in 
the  morning  is  a  knight  so  braw.  (Here  the 
story  ends.) 

In  C,  the  maid  will  have  no  man  that  can- 
not fly,  and  Master  Hillebrand  orders  a  bird's 
coat  to  be  made  for  him  (what  could  be  more 
mechanical !),  flies  into  the  maid's  bower,  and 
passes  the  night  on  the  pole  on  which  she 
hangs  her  clothes.  In  the  morning  he  begins 
to  sing,  flies  to  the  bed,  and  plays  with  the 
maid's  hair.  If  you  could  shed  your  feathers, 
says  the  maid,  I  would  have  no  other  man. 
Keep  your  word,  says  the  bird ;  give  me  your 


hand,  and  take  my  claw.  She  passes  her  word ; 
he  throws  off  his  feathers,  and  stands  before 
her  a  handsome  man.  By  day,  says  the  maid, 
he  is  to  fly  with  the  birds,  by  night  to  sleep  in 
her  bed.  He  perches  so  long  on  the  clothes- 
pole  that  Ingerlille  has  a  girl  and  a  boy. 
When  her  father  asks  who  is  their  father,  she 
tells  him  the  positive  truth ;  she  found  them 
in  a  wood.  When  the  bird  comes  back  at 
night,  she  says  that  he  must  speak  to  her 
father ;  further  concealment  is  impossible. 
Master  Hillebrand  asks  the  father  to  give  him 
his  daughter.  The  father  is  surprised  that  he 
should  want  a  maid  that  has  been  beguiled; 
but  if  he  will  marry  her  she  shall  have  a  large 
dowry.     The  knight  wants  nothing  but  her. 

Kristensen's  copies  do  not  differ  materially. 
11  A  in  his  tenth  volume  (a  very  brief  ballad) 
drops  or  lacks  the  manufacture  of  the  bird- 
coat.     Grundtvig's  D-G  drop  the  bird  quite. 

The  ballad  occurs  in  Swedish,  but  in  the 
form  of  a  mere  abstract ;  in  Arwidsson,  II, 
188,  No  112,  MS.  of  the  sixteenth  century.  A 
maid  will  have  no  man  but  one  that  can  fly. 
A  swain  has  wings  made  from  five  gold  rings; 
he  flies  over  the  rose- wood,  over  the  sea,  sits 
on  a  lily-spray  and  sings,  flies  till  he  sleeps  in 
the  maid's  bosom. 

A  Faroe  copy  is  noted  by  Grundtvig  as  in 
the  possession  of  Hammershaimb,  resembling 
his  B,  but  about  twice  as  long. 

The  lover  in  bird-shape  is  a  very  familiar 
trait  in  fiction,  particularly  in  popular  tales. 

In  Marie  de  France's  Lai  d'Yonec,  a  lover 
comes  in  at  his  mistress's  window  in  the  form 
of  a  hawk ;  in  '  Der  Jungherr  und  der  treue 
Heinrich,'  von  der  Hagen,  Gesammtabenteuer, 
No  64,  III,  197,  MS.  of  1444,  as  a  bird  (by 
virtue  of  a  stone  of  which  he  has  possessed 
himself).*  In  Hahn,  No  102,  II,  130  (Al- 
banian), a  dove  flies  in  at  a  princess's  window, 
and  is  changed  to  man's  shape  by  dipping  in  a 
dish  of  milk;  Hahn,  No  7,  I,  97  =  Pio,  No  5, 
dove  (through  a  hole  in  the  ceiling,  dips  in  a 
basin  of  water);  AeXriov  t^s  toropiK^s  koX  idvoXoyi- 
Kr]<i  cToupias  T^s  'EAAaSos,  I,  337,  golden  eagle 

*  The  *  Vogelritter '  mentioned  by  Prior,  III,  207,  is  this 
same  story.  See  Mone,  Uebersicht  der  niederlandischen 
Volksliteratur,  p.  90,  No  59. 


40 


270.    THE  EARL  OP  MAR'S  DAUGHTER 


(through  a  window,  in  rose  water) ;  Schneller, 
No  21,  p.  49,  dove  (dips  in  a  basin  of  water) ; 
Coelho,  Contos  pop.  portuguezes.  No  27,  p.  65, 
bird  (dips  in  a  basin  of  water) ;  Braga,  Contos 
tradicionaes.  No  31,  I,  68,  bird  (dips  in  a 
basin  of  water)  ;  Pitr^,  Fiabe,  etc.,  No  18, 1, 
163,  green  bird  (pan  of  milk,  then  pan  of 
water)  ;  Bernoni,  Fiabe,  No  17,  p.  87  (milk 
and  water,  milk,  rose-water)  ;  Visentini,  No 
17,  p.  95,  dove ;  Gonzenbach,  No  27,  I,  167, 
green  bird  (through  a  hole  in  the  wall); 
Nicolovius,  p.  34,  Asbjarnsen,  Norske  Folke- 


eventyr,  Ny  Samling,  1871,  No  10,  p.  35  = 
Juletrseet,  1861,  p.  62,  falcon ;  Grundtvig, 
Danske  Folkeseventyr,  No  14,  p.  167,  Madsen, 
Folkeminder,  p.  19  ('The  Green  Knight'), 
bird;  Bemtsen,  Folke-^ventyr,  No  13,  II,  86, 
bird;  Comtesse  d'Aulnoy,  '  L'Oiseau  bleu,' 
Cabinet  des  Fdes,  II,  67,  king  turned  into 
bird  for  seven  years.* 

Translated  by  Gerhard,  p.  44 ;  Knortz, 
Lieder  u.  Romanzen  Alt-Englands,  p.  207, 
No  62. 


1  It  was  intill  a  pleasant  time, 

Upon  a  simmer's  day, 
The  noble  Earl  of  Mar's  daughter 
Went  forth  to  sport  and  play. 

2  As  thus  she  did  amuse  hersell. 

Below  a  green  aik  tree, 
There  she  saw  a  sprightly  doo 
Set  on  a  tower  sae  hieo 

3  '  O  Cow-me-doo,  my  love  sae  true, 

If  ye  '11  come  down  to  me, 
Ye  'se  hae  a  cage  o  guid  red  gowd 
Instead  o  simple  tree  : 

4  *  I  '11  put  gowd  hingers  roun  your  cage, 

And  siller  roun  your  wa  ; 
I  '11  gar  ye  shine  as  fair  a  bird 
As  ony  o  them  a'.' 

6  But  she  hadnae  these  words  well  spoke, 
Nor  yet  these  words  well  said, 
Till  Cow-me-doo  flew  frae  the  tower 
And  hghted  on  her  head. 

6  Then  she  has  brought  this  pretty  bird 

Hame  to  her  bowers  and  ha, 
And  made  him  shine  as  fair  a  bird 
As  ony  o  them  a'. 

7  When  day  was  gane,  and  night  was  come, 

About  the  evening  tide, 
This  lady  spied  a  sprightly  youth 
Stand  straight  up  by  her  side. 

8  '  From  whence   came  ye,  young   man  ?  *  she 

said; 
*  That  does  surprise  me  sair ; 


My  door  was  bolted  right  secure, 
What  way  hae  ye  come  here  ?  ' 

9  '  O  had  your  tongue,  ye  lady  fair, 
Lat  a'  your  f  oUy  be ; 
Mind  ye  not  on  your  turtle-doo 
Last  day  ye  brought  wi  thee  ?  ' 

10  '  O  tell  me  mair,  young  man,'  she  said, 

*  This  does  surprise  me  now ; 
What  country  hae  ye  come  frae  ? 
What  pedigree  are  you  ? ' 

11  *  My  mither  lives  on  foreign  isles, 

She  has  nae  mair  but  me  ; 
She  is  a  queen  o  wealth  and  state, 
And  birth  and  high  degree. 

12  *  Likewise  well  skilld  in  magic  spells, 

As  ye  may  plainly  see, 
And  she  transformd  me  to  yon  shape. 
To  charm  such  maids  as  thee. 

13  '  I  am  a  doo  the  live-lang  day, 

A  sprightly  youth  at  night ; 
This  aye  gars  me  appear  mair  fair 
In  a  fair  maiden's  sight. 

14  '  And  it  was  but  this  verra  day 

That  I  came  ower  the  sea  ; 
Tour  lovely  face  did  me  enchant ; 
I  'U  hve  and  dee  wi  thee.' 

15  *  O  Cow-me-doo,  my  luve  sae  true, 

Nae  mair  frae  me  ye  'se  gae ; ' 

*  Most  of  the  above  are  cited  by  R.  Eohler,  notes  in 
Wamke's  ed.  of  Marie's  Lais,  p.  LXXXVin  f.  For  the 
dipping  in  water,  etc.,  see  Tarn  Lin,  I,  338. 


270.    THE  EABL  OP  MAR'S  DAUGHTER 


41 


*  That 's  never  my  intent,  my  luve, 
As  ye  said,  it  shall  be  sae.' 

16  '  0  Cow-me-doo,  my  luve  sae  true, 

It 's  time  to  gae  to  bed  ; ' 
'  Wi  a'  my  heart,  my  dear  marrow, 
It 's  be  as  ye  hae  said.' 

17  Then  he  has  staid  in  bower  wi  her 

For  sax  lang  years  and  ane. 
Till  sax  young  sons  to  bim  she  bare, 
And  the  seventh  she 's  brought  hame. 

18  But  aye  as  ever  a  child  was  bom 

He  carried  them  away, 
And  brought  them  to  his  mither's  care. 
As  fast  as  he  coud  fly. 

19  Thus  he  has  staid  in  bower  wi  her 

For  twenty  years  and  three  ; 
There  came  a  lord  o  high  renown 
To  court  this  fair  ladie. 

20  But  still  his  proffer  she  refused, 

And  a'  his  presents  too ; 
Says,  I  'm  content  to  live  alane 
Wi  my  bird,  Cow-me-doo. 

21  Her  father  sware  a  solemn  oath 

Amang  the  nobles  all, 
'  The  mom,  or  ere  I  eat  or  drink, 
This  bird  I  wiU  gar  kill.' 

22  The  bird  was  sitting  in  his  cage. 

And  heard  what  they  did  say  ; 
And  when  he  found  they  were  dismist. 
Says,  Wae  's  me  for  this  day  ! 

23  '  Before  that  I  do  langer  stay, 

And  thus  to  be  forlorn, 
I  '11  gang  unto  my  mither's  bower, 
"Where  I  was  bred  and  born.' 

24  Then  Cow-me-doo  took  flight  and  flew 

Beyond  the  raging  sea. 
And  lighted  near  his  nuther's  castle, 
On  a  tower  o  gowd  sae  hie. 

25  As  his  mither  was  wauking  out. 

To  see  what  she  coud  see, 
And  there  she  saw  her  little  son, 
Set  on  the  tower  sae  hie. 

VOL.  V.  6 


26  '  Get  dancers  here  to  dance,'  she  said, 

'  And  minstrells  for  to  play  ; 
For  here  's  my  young  son,  Florentine, 
Come  here  wi  me  to  stay.' 

27  *  Get  nae  dancers  to  dance,  mither. 

Nor  minstrells  for  to  play, 
For  the  mither  o  my  seven  sons. 
The  mom 's  her  wedding-day.' 

28  *  O  tell  me,  teU  me,  Florentine, 

Tell  me,  and  tell  me  true, 
Tell  me  this  day  without  a  flaw. 
What  I  will  do  for  you.' 

29  *  Instead  of  dancers  to  dance,  mither, 

Or  minstrells  for  to  play, 
Turn  four-and-twenty  wall-wight  men 
Like  storks  in  feathers  gray ; 

30  *  My  seven  sons  in  seven  swans, 

Aboon  their  heads  to  flee ; 
And  I  mysell  a  gay  gos-hawk, 
A  bird  o  high  degree.' 

31  Then  sichin  said  the  queen  hersell, 

*  That  thing 's  too  high  for  me ;  * 
But  she  applied  to  an  auld  woman. 
Who  had  mair  skill  than  she. 

32  Instead  o  dancers  to  dance  a  dance. 

Or  minstrells  for  to  play, 
Four-and-twenty  wall-wight  men 
Tumd  birds  o  feathers  gray  ; 

33  Her  seven  sons  in  seven  swans, 

Aboon  their  heads  to  flee ; 
And  he  himsell  a  gay  gos-hawk, 
A  bird  o  high  degree. 

34  This  flock  o  birds  took  flight  and  flew 

Beyond  the  raging  sea. 
And  landed  near  the  Earl  Mar's  castle, 
Took  shelter  in  every  tree. 

35  They  were  a  flock  o  pretty  birds. 

Right  comely  to  be  seen  ; 
The  people  viewd  them  wi  surprise, 
As  they  dancd  on  the  green. 

36  These  birds  ascended  frae  the  tree 

And  lighted  on  the  ha. 


42 


271.  THE  LOBD  OP  LOBN  AND  THE  FALSE  STEWARD 


And  at  the  last  wi  force  did  flee 
Amang  the  nobles  a'. 

37  The  storks  there  seized  some  o  the  men, 

They  coud  neither  fight  nor  flee  ; 
The  swans  they  bound  the  bride's  best  man 
Below  a  green  aik  tree. 

38  They  lighted  next  on  maidens  fair, 

Then  on  the  bride's  own  head. 
And  wi  the  twinkling  o  an  ee 
The  bride  and  them  were  fled. 

39  There 's  ancient  men  at  weddings  been 

For  sixty  years  or  more, 


But  sic  a  curious  wedding-day 
They  never  saw  before. 

40  For  naething  coud  the  companie  do, 

Nor  naething  coud  they  say 
But  they  saw  a  flock  o  pretty  birds 
That  took  their  bride  away. 

41  When  that  Earl  Mar  he  came  to  know 

"Where  his  dochter  did  stay. 
He  signd  a  bond  o  unity. 
And  visits  now  they  pay. 


271 

THE  LORD  OF  LORN  AND  THE  FALSE  STEWARD 


A.  *  Lord  of  Learne,'  Percy  MS.,  p.  73 ;  Hales  and 
Furnivall,  I,  180. 

B.  '  A  pretty  ballad  of  the  Lord  of  Lorn  and  the  Fals 


Steward.'  a.  Wood,  401,  fol.  95  b.  b.  Roxburghe, 
I,  222;  Roxburghe  Ballads,  ed.  Chappell,  II,  55. 
c.  Pepys,  I,  494,  No  264. 


s/ 


si 


u 


Also  in  the  Roxburghe  collection,  III,  534, 
without  printer's  name ;  Ewing,  Nos  264, 
265 ;  Crawford,  No  716.  All  the  broadsides 
are  of  the  second  half  of  the  seventeenth 
century. 

'  The  Lord  of  Lome  and  the  false  Steward ' 
was  entered,  with  two  other  ballads,  to  Mas- 
ter Walley,  6  October,  1580  ;  '  Lord  of  Lome' 
to  Master  Pavier  and  others  (among  128 
pieces),  14  December,  1624.  Arber,  II,  379  ; 
IV,  131.* 

A.  The  young  Lord  of  Lorn,  when  put  to 
school,  learns  more  in  one  day  than  his  mates 
learn  in  three.  He  returns  home  earlier  than 
was  expected,  and  delights  his  father  with 

*  Edward  Guilpin,  in  his  Skialethia,  or  A  Shadow  of 
Tmth,  1598,  has  this  couplet : 

Yet  like  th'  olde  ballad  of  the  Lord  of  Lome, 
Whose  last  line  in  King  Harrie's  days  was  borne. 

Chappell,  Popular  Music,  p.  228. 

It  is  possible  that  Guilpin  meant  that  the  last  line  (stanza  t) 


the  information  that  he  can  read  any  book  in 
Scotland.  His  father  says  he  must  now  go  to 
France  to  learn  the  tongues.  His  mother  is 
anxious  that  he  should  have  a  proper  guardian 
if  he  goes,  and  the  '  child '  proposes  the  stew- 
ard, who  has  impressed  him  as  a  man  of  fidel- 
ity. The  Lady  of  Lorn  makes  the  steward 
a  handsome  present,  and  conjures  him  to  be 
true  to  her  son.  If  I  am  not,  he  answers,  may 
Christ  not  be  true  to  me.  The  young  lord 
sails  for  France,  very  richly  appointed.  Once 
beyond  the  water,  the  steward  will  give  the 
child  neither  penny  to  spend  nor  meat  and 
drink.  The  child  is  forced  to  lie  down  at 
some  piece  of  water  to  quench  his  thirst ;  the 

showed  the  ballad  to  be  of  Henry  VIII's  time ;  but  he  may 
have  meant  exactly  what  he  says,  that  the  last  line  was  of 
Henry  VIII's  time.  "We  do  not  know  what  the  last  line  of 
the  copy  intended  by  Guilpin  was,  and  all  we  learn  from  the 
couplet  is  that '  The  Lord  of  Lorn '  was  called  an  old  ballad  y 
before  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  century. 


271.  THE  LORD  OF  LORN  AND  THE  FALSE  STEWARD 


43 


steward  pushes  him  in,  meaning  to  drown 
him.  The  child  offers  everything  for  his  Ufe  ; 
the  steward  pulls  him  out,  makes  him  put  off 
all  his  fine  clothes  and  don  a  suit  of  leather, 
and  sends  him  to  shift  for  himself,  under  the 
name  of  Poor  Disaware.  A  shepherd  takes 
him  in,  and  he  tends  sheep  on  a  lonely  lea. 

The  steward  sells  the  child's  clothes,  buys 
himself  a  suit  fit  for  a  lord,  and  goes  a-woo- 
ing  to  the  Duke  of  France's  daughter,  calling 
himself  the  Lord  of  Lorn ;  the  duke  favors 
the  suit,  and  the  lady  is  content.  The  day 
after  their  betrothal,  the  lady,  while  riding 
out,  sees  the  child  tending  his  sheep,  and 
hears  him  mourning.  She  sends  a  maid  to 
bring  him  to  her,  and  asks  him  questions, 
which  he  answers,  not  without  tears.  He  was 
bom  in  Scotland,  his  name  is  Poor  Disaware  ; 
he  knows  the  Lord  of  Lorn,  a  worthy  lord  in 
his  own  country.  The  lady  invites  him  to 
leave  his  sheep,  and  take  service  with  her  as 
chamberlain;  the  child  is  willing,  but  her 
father  objects  that  the  lord  who  has  come 
a-wooing  may  not  like  that  arrangement.  The 
steward  comes  upon  the  scene,  and  is  angry  to 
find  the  child  in  such  company.  When  the 
child  gives  his  name  as  Poor  Disaware,  the 
steward  denounces  him  as  a  thief  who  had 
robbed  his  own  father ;  but  the  duke  speaks 
kindly  to  the  boy,  and  makes  him  his  stable- 
groom.  One  day,  when  he  is  watering  a  geld- 
ing, the  horse  flings  up  his  head  and  hits  the 
child  above  the  eye.  The  child  breaks  out. 
Woe  worth  thee,  gelding  !  thou  hast  stricken 
the  Lord  of  Lorn.  I  was  born  a  lord  and 
shall  be  an  earl ;  my  father  sent  me  over  the 
sea,  and  the  false  steward  has  beguiled  me. 
The  lady  happens  to  be  walking  in  her  gar- 
den, and  hears  something  of  this ;  she  bids 
the  child  go  on  with  his  song ;  this  he  may 
not  do,  for  he  has  been  sworn  to  silence. 
Then  sing  to  thy  gelding,  and  not  to  me,  she 
says.  The  child  repeats  his  story,  and  adds 
that  the  steward  has  been  deceiving  both  her 
and  him  for  a  twelvemonth.  The  lady  de- 
clares that  she  will  marry  no  man  but  him 

•  '  A  Pleasant  History  of  Roswall  and  LClian,'  etc.,  Edin- 
burgh, 1663,  reprint  by  David  Laing,  Edinburgh,  1822. 
Edited,  with  collation  of  the  later  texts  and  valuable  con- 


that  stands  before  her,  sends  in  haste  to  her 
father  to  have  her  wedding  put  off,  and  vnrites 
an  account  of  the  steward's  treachery  to  the 
old  lord  in  Scotland.  The  old  lord  collects 
five  hundred  friends  of  high  degree,  and  goes 
over  to  France  in  search  of  his  son.  They 
find  him  acting  as  porter  at  the  duke's  palace. 
The  men  of  worship  bow,  the  serving-men 
kneel,  the  old  lord  lights  from  his  horse  and 
kisses  his  son.  The  steward  is  just  then  in  a 
castle-top  with  the  duke,  and  sees  what  is 
going  on  below.  Why  are  those  fools  show- 
ing such  courtesy  to  the  porter  ?  The  duke 
fears  that  this  means  death  for  one  of  them. 
The  castle  is  beset ;  the  steward  is  captured, 
is  tried  by  a  quest  of  lords  and  brought  in 
guilty,  is  hanged,  quartered,  boiled,  and 
burned.  The  young  Lord  of  Lome  is  mar- 
ried to  the  duke's  daughter. 

B.  B  is  an  abridgment  of  an  older  copy. 
The  story  is  the  same  as  in  A  in  all  material 
particulars.  The  admiration  of  the  school- 
master and  the  self-complacency  of  his  pupil 
in  A  2,  3,  B  3,  are  better  justified  in  B  by  a 
stanza  which  has  perhaps  dropped  out  of  A  : 

There  's  nere  a  doctor  in  all  this  realm, 

For  all  he  goes  in  rich  array, 
[Bat]  I  can  write  him  a  lesson  soon 

To  learn  in  seven  years  day. 

The  last  six  stanzas  are  not  represented  in 
A,  and  the  last  two  are  glaringly  modem ; 
but  there  is  a  foundation  for  62-64  in  a  ro- 
mance from  which  the  story  is  partly  taken, 
the  History  of  Roswall  and  Lillian.* 

'  Roswall  and  Lillian.'  Roswall  was  son  to  (W' 
the  king  of  Naples.  Happening  one  day  to 
be  near  a  prison,  he  heard  three  lords,  who 
had  been  in  durance  many  years  for  treason, 
putting  up  their  prayers  for  deliverance.  He 
was  greatly  moved,  and  resolved  to  help  them 
out.  The  prison-keys  were  always  hidden  for 
the  night  under  the  king's  pillow.  Roswall 
possessed  himself  of  them  while  his  father 
was  sleeping,  set  the  lords  free,  and  replaced 
the  keys.     The  escape  of  the  prisoners  was 

tributions  to  the  traditional  history  of  the  tale,  by  O.  Leng- 
ert,  Englische  Studien,  XVI,  321  ff.,  XVTI,  341  ff. 


44 


2T1.  THE  LORD  OP  LORN  AND  THE  FALSE  STEWARD 


reported  the  next  morning,  and  the  king  made 
a  vow  that  whoever  had  been  instrumental  to 
it  should  be  hanged ;  if  he  came  within  the 
king's  sight,  the  king  would  even  slay  him 
with  his  own  hands.  It  soon  came  to  light 
that  the  guilty  party  was  none  other  than  the 
prince.  The  queen  interceded  for  her  son, 
but  the  king  could  not  altogether  disregard 
his  vow :  the  prince  must  be  kept  out  of  his 
sight,  and  the  king  promptly  decided  that 
Roswall  should  be  sent  to  reside  with  the 
king  of  Bealm,  under  charge  of  the  steward, 
a  stalwart  knight,  to  whom  the  queen  prom- 
ised everything  for  good  service.  As  the  pair 
rode  on  their  way,  they  came  to  a  river.  The 
prince  was  sore  athirst,  and  dismounted  to 
take  a  drink.  The  steward  seized  him  by  the 
feet  as  he  bent  over  the  water,  and  vowed  to 
throw  him  in  unless  he  would  swear  an  oath 
to  surrender  his  money  and  credentials,  and 
become  servant  where  he  had  been  master. 
To  these  hard  terms  Roswall  was  forced  to 
consign.  When  they  were  near  the  king  of 
Bealm's  palace,  the  steward  dropped  Roswall's 
company,  leaving  him  without  a  penny  to  buy 
his  dinner ;  then  rode  to  the  king,  presented 
letters,  and  was  well  received.  Roswall  went 
to  a  little  house  hard  by,  and  begged  for  har- 
bor and  victuals  for  a  day.  The  mistress  made 
him  welcome.  She  saw  he  was  from  a  far 
country,  and  asked  his  name.  Dissawar  was 
his  name;  a  poor  name,  said  the  old  wife, 
but  Dissawar  you  shall  not  be,  for  I  will 
help  you.  The  next  day  Roswall  was  sent 
to  school  with  the  dame's  son.  He  srave  his 
name  as  Dissawar  again  to  the  master ;  the 
master  said  he  should  want  neither  meat  nor 
teaching.  Roswall  had  been  a  remarkable 
scholar  at  home.  Without  doubt  he  aston- 
ished the  master,  but  this  is  not  said,  for  the 
story  has  been  abridged  here  and  elsewhere. 
In  about  a  month,  the  steward  of  the  king  of 
Bealm,  who  had  observed  his  beauty,  cour- 
tesy, and  good  parts,  carried  him  to  the  court 
of  Bealm,  where  RoswaU  made  himself  a 
general  favorite.  The  princess  Lillian,  only 
child  of  the  king  of  Bealm,  chose  him  to  be 
her  chamberlain,  fell  in  love  with  him,  and 
frankly  offered  him  her  heart,  an  offer  which 


Roswall,  professing  always  to  be  of  low  de- 
gree, gratefully  accepted. 

At  this  juncture  the  king  of  Bealm  sent 
messengers  to  Naples  proposing  marriage  be- 
tween his  daughter  Lillian  and  the  young 
prince  who  had  been  commended  to  him. 
The  king  of  Naples  assented  to  the  alliance, 
and  deputed  lords  and  knights  to  represent 
him  at  the  solemnity.  The  king  of  Bealm 
proclaimed  a  joust  for  the  three  days  imme- 
diately preceding  the  wedding.  Lillian's 
heart  was  cold,  for  she  loved  none  but  Dissa- 
war. She  told  Dissawar  that  he  must  joust 
for  his  lady;  but  he  said  that  he  had  not 
been  bred  to  such  things,  and  would  rather  go 
a-hunting.  A-hunting  he  went,  but  before  he 
got  to  work  there  came  a  knight  in  white 
weed  on  a  white  steed,  who  enjoined  him  to 
take  horse  and  armor  and  go  to  the  jousting, 
promising  that  he  should  find  plenty  of  veni- 
son when  he  came  back.  Roswall  toomed 
many  a  saddle,  turned  the  steward's  heels  up- 
ward, made  his  way  back  to  the  wood,  in 
spite  of  the  king's  order  that  he  should  be 
stopped,  resumed  his  hunting-gear,  took  the 
venison,  which,  according  to  promise,  was 
waiting  for  him,  and  presented  himself  and 
it  to  his  lady.  The  order  is  much  the  same 
on  the  two  succeeding  days.  A  red  knight 
equips  Roswall  for  the  joust  on  the  second  day, 
a  knight  in  gold  on  the  third.  The  steward 
is,  on  each  occasion,  put  to  shame,  and  in  the 
last  encounter  two  of  his  ribs  are  broken. 

When  Roswall  came  back  to  the  wood  after 
the  third  jousting,  the  three  knights  appeared 
together  and  informed  him  that  they  were  the 
men  whom  he  had  delivered  from  prison,  and 
who  had  promised  to  help  him  if  help  he  ever 
needed.  They  bade  him  have  no  fear  of  the 
steward.  Lillian  had  suspected  from  the 
second  day  that  the  victor  was  Roswall,  and 
when  he  returned  to  her  from  his  third  tri- 
umph she  intimated  that  if  he  would  but  tell 
the  whole  truth  to  her  father  their  mutual 
wish  would  be  accomplished.  But  Roswall 
kept  his  counsel — very  whimsically,  unless  it 
was  out  of  respect  to  his  oath  —  and  Lillian 
was  constrained  to  speak  for  herself,  for  the 
marriage  was  to  be  celebrated  on  the  fourth 


271.  THE  LORD  OP  LOBN  AND  THE  FALSE  STEWARD 


45 


day.  She  asked  her  father  in  plain  terms  to 
give  her  Dissawar  for  her  husband.  The 
king  replied,  not  unkindly,  that  she  could  not 
marry  below  her  rank,  and  therefore  must  take 
the  prince  who  had  been  selected  for  her ; 
and  to  the  steward  she  was  married,  however 
sorely  against  her  will.  In  the  course  of  the 
wedding-dinner,  the  three  Neapolitan  lords  en- 
tered the  hall,  and  saluted  the  king,  the  queen, 
and  Lillian,  but  not  the  bridegroom.  The 
king  asked  why  they  did  no  homage  to  their 
prince;  they  replied  that  they  did  not  see 
their  prince,  went  in  search  of  Roswall,  and 
brought  him  in.  The  force  of  the  oath,  or 
the  consciousness  of  an  obligation,  must  have 
been  by  this  time  quite  extinct,  for  Roswall 
divulged  the  steward's  treacherous  behavior, 
and  announced  himself  as  the  victor  at  the 
jousts.  The  steward  was  hanged  that  same 
day  ;  then  they  passed  to  the  kirk  and  mar- 
ried Roswall  and  Lillian.  There  was  dancing 
till  supper  and  after  supper,  the  minstrels 
played  with  good  will,  and  the  bridal  was 
kept  up  for  twenty  days. 

Roswall  and  Lillian  belongs  with  a  group 
of  popular  tales  of  which  the  original  seems 
to  have  been  characterized  by  all  or  many  of 
the  following  marks :  (1)  the  son  of  a  king 
liberates  a  man  whom  his  father  has  impris- 
oned ;  (2)  the  penalty  for  so  doing  is  death, 
and  to  save  his  life  the  prince  is  sent  out  of 
the  country,  attended  by  a  servant ;  (3)  the 
servant  forces  the  prince  to  change  places  and 
clothes  with  him ;  (4)  presents  himself  at  a 
king's  court  as  prince,  and  in  his  assumed 
quality  is  in  a  fair  way  to  secure  the  hand 
of  the  king's  daughter ;  (5)  the  true  prince, 
figuring  the  while  as  a  menial  (stable-groom, 
scullion,  gardener's  lad),  is  successful,  by  the 
help  of  the  man  whom  he  has  liberated,  in  a 
thrice-repeated  contention  (battle,  tourney, 
race),  or  task,  after  which  he  is  in  a  position 
to  make  known  his  rank  and  history ;  (6) 
the  impostor  is  put  to  death,  and  the  prince 
(who  has,  perhaps,  in  his  humbler  capacity, 

*  The  Grimms  have  indicated  some  of  the  tales  belong- 
ing to  this  group,  in  their  notes  to  No  136  and  No  89.  Others 
have  been  added  by  Lengert  in  Englische  Sttidien.  A  second 
group,  which  has  several  of  the  marks  of  the  first,  is  treated 


already  attracted  her  notice  and  regard)  mar- 
ries the  princess.* 

Two  Slavic  tales,  a  Bosnian  and  a  Russian,     ~ra^Lj 
come  as  near  as  any  to  the  story  of  our  ro- 
mance. 

A  king  who  has  caught  a  wild  man  shuts  ^/^**^- 
him  up,  and  denounces  death  to  any  one  that 
shall  let  him  out.  The  king's  son's  bedroom 
is  just  over  the  place  in  which  the  wild  man 
is  confined.  The  prince  cannot  bear  to  hear 
the  continual  wailings  which  come  up,  and  he 
sets  the  prisoner  free.  The  prince  confesses 
what  he  has  done ;  the  king  is  persuaded  by 
his  advisers  to  banish  his  son  rather  than  to 
enforce  the  penalty  which  he  had  decreed; 
the  prince  is  sent  off  to  a  distant  kingdom, 
attended  by  a  servant.  One  day  the  prince 
was  seized  with  thirst  while  travelling,  and 
wished  to  get  a  drink  from  a  well ;  but  there 
was  nothing  to  draw  water  with,  and  he  or- 
dered his  servant  to  let  him  down  to  the  sur- 
face of  the  water,  holding  him  the  while  by 
the  legs.  This  was  done ;  but  when  the  prince 
had  drunk  to  his  satisfaction,  the  servant  re- 
fused to  draw  him  up  until  he  had  consented 
to  change  places  and  clothes,  and  had  sworn 
besides  to  keep  the  matter  secret.  When 
they  arrived  at  the  court  of  the  king  desig- 
nated by  the  father,  the  sham  prince  was  re- 
ceived with  royal  honors,  and  the  true  prince 
had  to  consort  with  servants.  .  .  .  After  a 
time,  the  king,  wishing  to  marry  off  his  daugh- 
ter, proclaimed  a  three  days'  race,  open  to  all 
comers,  the  prize  to  be  a  golden  apple,  and 
any  competitor  who  should  win  the  apple  each 
of  the  three  days  to  have  the  princess.  Our 
prince  had  fallen  in  love  with  the  young  lady, 
and  was  most  desirous  to  contend.  The  wild 
man  had  already  helped  him  in  emergencies 
here  passed  over,  and  did  not  fail  him  now. 
He  provided  his  deliverer  with  fine  clothes 
and  a  fine  horse.  The  prince  carried  off  the 
apple  at  each  of  the  races,  but  disappeared  as 
soon  as  he  had  the  prize  in  hand.  All  the 
efforts  of  the  king  to  find  out  the  victor  were 

by  Eohler,  with  his  usual  amplitude,  in  Archiv  fiir  Littera- 
turgeschichte,  XII,  142-44.  Abstracts  of  many  tales  of 
both  groups,  including  all  that  I  have  cited,  are  given  by 
Lengert.  —  See  further  in  Additions,  p.  280  £. 


46 


271.  THE  LORD  OP  LORN  AND  THE  FALSE  STEWARD 


to  no  purpose,  but  one  day  the  princess  met 
the  prince  in  his  serving-man's  dress,  and  saw 
the  apples  shining  from  his  breast.  She  told 
her  father.  The  prince  did  not  feel  himself 
bound  to  further  secrecy ;  he  told  everything ; 
the  king  gave  him  the  princess,  and  the  ser- 
vant was  properly  disposed  of.* 

Ivan,  the  tsar's  son,  releases  from  confine- 
ment Bulat,  a  robber,  whom  the  tsar  has  kept 
in  prison  three  and  thirty  years.  Bulat  tells 
Ivan  to  call  him  by  name  in  case  of  future 
need,  and  he  will  not  fail  to  appear.  Ivan 
travels  in  foreign  countries  with  his  servant, 
and  feeling  thirsty  of  a  warm  day  tells  his 
servant  to  get  him  water  from  a  deep  well  to 
which  they  have  come ;  Ivan  will  hold  him 
by  a  rope  tied  firmly  about  him,  so  that  he 
can  go  down  into  the  well  without  danger. 
The  servant  represents  that  he  is  the  heavier 
of  the  two,  too  heavy  for  his  master  to  hold, 
and  that  for  this  reason  it  would  be  better  for 
Ivan  himself  to  go  for  the  water.  Ivan  is  let 
down  into  the  well,  and  having  drunk  his  fill 
calls  to  his  servant  to  draw  him  up.  The  ser- 
vant refuses  to  draw  him  up  unless  Ivan  will 
swear  to  give  him  a  certificate  in  writing  that 
he  is  master,  and  Ivan  servant.  The  paper 
is  given ;  they  change  clothes,  and  proceed 
on  their  journey,  and  come  to  Tsar  Pantui's 
kingdom.  Here  the  servant  is  received  as  a 
tsar's  son,  and  when  he  tells  Tsar  Pantui  that 
the  object  of  his  coming  is  to  woo  his  daugh- 
ter, the  tsar  complies  with  much  pleasure. 
Ivan,  at  the  servant's  suggestion,  is  put  to  low 
work  in  the  kitchen.  Before  long  the  king- 
dom is  invaded,  and  the  tsar  calls  upon  his 
prospective  son-in-law  to  drive  off  the  enemy, 
for  which  service  he  shall  receive  the  princess, 
but  without  it,  not.  The  false  Ivan  begs  the 
true  Ivan  to  take  the  invaders  in  hand,  and  he 
assents  without  a  word.  Ivan  calls  for  Bulat : 
one  attacks  the  hostile  army  on  the  right,  the 
other  on  the  left,  and  in  an  hour  they  lay  a 

*  '  Kraljev  sin,' '  The  King's  Son,'  Bosanske  narodne  pri- 
povjedke,  1870,  No  4,  p.  11,  Serbian  Folk-Lore,  Madam 
Csedomille  Mijatories,  '  One  good  turn  deserves  another,' 
p.  189, 

t  Dietrich,  Russische  Volksmarchen,  No  10,  p.  131 ;  Vogl, 
Die  altesten  Volksmarchen  der  Rassen,  p.  55,  '  Slugobyl,' 
Glinski,  Bajarz  polski,  I,  166,  ed.  1862,  Chodzko,  Contes 


hundred  thousand  low.  Ivan  returns  to  his 
kitchen.  A  second  invasion,  and  a  third,  on 
a  larger  and  larger  scale,  ensue,  and  Ivan  and 
Bulat  repulse  the  enemy  with  greater  and 
greater  loss.  Ivan  each  time  goes  back  to  his 
kitchen;  his  servant  has  all  the  glory,  and 
after  the  third  and  decisive  victory  marries 
the  princess.  Ivan  gets  permission  from  the 
cook  to  be  a  spectator  at  the  wedding-ban- 
quet. The  tsar's  daughter,  it  must  now  be 
observed,  had  overheard  the  conference  be- 
tween the  pseudo-prince  and  Ivan,  and  even 
that  between  Ivan  and  Bulat,  and  had  hitherto, 
for  inscrutable  reasons,  let  things  take  their 
course.  But  when  she  saw  Ivan  looking  at 
the  feast  from  behind  other  people,  she  knew 
him  at  once,  sprang  from  the  table,  brought 
him  forward,  and  said,  This  is  my  real  bride- 
groom and  the  savior  of  the  kingdom ;  after 
which  she  entered  into  a  full  explanation,  with 
the  result  that  the  servant  was  shot,  and  Ivan 
married  to  the  tsar's  daughter.f 

Other  tales  of  the  same  derivation,  but 
deficient  in  some  points,  are;  (A.)  Radloff, 
Proben  der  Volkslitteratur  der  tiirkischen 
Stamme  Siid-Sibiriens,  IV,  385,  '  Der  Peri.' 
(B.)  Straparola,  Piacevoli  Notti,  v,  1  ('  Guer- 
rino,  son  of  the  king  of  Sicily ').  (C.)  Grimms, 
K.-  und  Hausmarchen,  No  136,  II,  242,  ed. 
1857, '  Der  Eisenhans.'  (D.)  Sommer,  Sagen, 
Marchen  und  Gebrauche  aus  Sachsen  und 
Thiiringen,  p.  86,  No  2,  '  Der  eiserne  Mann.' 
(E.)  Milenowsky,  Volksmarchen  aus  Bohmen, 
p.  147,  *  Vom  wUden  Manne.'  J  ^  [ 

(1)  The  son  of  a  king  liberates  a  prisoner  ' 
(peri,  wild  or  iron  man),  A-E.  (The  keys 
are  under  his  mother's  pillow,  B,  C.)  (2)  The 
prince  goes  to  another  kingdom,  A-D  with 
attendance,  E  without.  (3)  His  attendant 
forces  the  prince  to  change  places  and  clothes, 
only  A.  (Advantage  is  taken  of  the  help- 
lessness of  the  hero  when  let  down  into  the 
well  to  force  exchange  of  parts,  in  the  Servian 

des  paysans  et  des  patres  slaves,  p.  193,  is  an  abridged  form 
of  the  same  story,  with  a  traditional  variation  at  the  begin- 
ning, and  in  the  conclusion  a  quite  too  ingenious  turn  as  to 
the  certificate, 

X  Also,  Waldau,  Bohmisches  Marchenbuch,  p.  50,  after 
Franz  Rubes. 


271.  THE  LORD  OP  LOBN  AND  THE  FALSE  STEWARD 


47 


Tales  of  Dj.  K.  Stefanovid,  1871,  p.  39,  No  7, 
Jagid,  Archiv,  I,  271 ;  Meyer,  Albanian  Tales, 
No  13,  in  Archiv  fiir  Litteraturgeschichte, 
XII,  137 ;  Franzisci,  Cultur-Studien  in  Karn- 
ten,  p.  99,  and,  nearly  the  same,  Dozon, 
Contes  Albanais,  No  12,  p.  83.)  (5)  The 
hero,  serving  as  kitchen-boy  or  gardener's  lad, 
C,  D,  E,  defeats  an  invading  army,  C,  D,  E, 
wins  a  prize  three  successive  days,  C,  E,  is 
successful  in  three  tasks.  A,  B ;  and  all  these 
feats  are  performed  by  the  help  of  the  pris- 
oner whom  he  set  free.  The  variation  of 
the  color  of  armor  and  horses  occurs  in  C,  E, 
an  extremely  frequent  trait  in  tales  and  ro- 
mances ;  see  Ward,  Catalogue  of  Romances, 
etc.,  734  f .,  Lengert,  XVII,  361.  (Very  strik- 
ing in  the  matter  of  the  tournaments  is  the 
resemblance  of  the  romance  of  Ipomedon  to 
Roswall  and  Lillian.  Ipomedon,  like  Roswall, 
professes  not  to  have  been  accustomed  to  such 
things,  and  pretends  to  go  a-hunting,  is  vic- 
torious three  successive  days  in  a  white,  red, 
black  suit,  on  a  white,  bay,  black  steed,  van- 
ishes after  the  contest,  and  presently  reappears 
as  huntsman,  with  venison  which  a  friend 
had  been  engaged  in  securing  for  him.)  (6) 
The  treacherous  attendant  is  put  to  death,  A. 
The  hero  of  course  marries  the  princess  in 
all  the  tales. 
P  The  points  in  the  romance  which  are  re- 
peated in  the  ballad  are  principally  these: 
The  young  hero  is  sent  into  a  foreign  country 
under  the  care  of  his  father's  steward.  The 
steward,  by  threatening  to  drown  him  while 
he  is  drinking  at  a  water-side,  forces  him  to 
consent  to  an  exchange  of  positions,  and  strips 
him  of  his  money  ;  then  passes  himself  off  as 
his  master's  son  with  a  noble  personage,  who 
eventually  fixes  upon  the  impostor  as  a  match 
for  his  only  daughter.  The  young  lord,  hence- 
forth known  as  Dissawar,*  is  in  his  extremity 
kindly  received  into  an  humble  house,  from 
which  he  soon  passes  into  the  service  of  the 
lady  whose  hand  the  steward  aspires  to  gain. 


*  I  can  make  no  gness  that  I  am  willing  to  mention  as  to 
the  derivation  and  meaning  of  Dissawar.  The  old  woman 
in  the  romance,  v.  249  ff.,  says, '  Dissawar  is  a  poor  name, 
yet  Dissawar  you  shall  not  be,  for  good  help  you  shall  have ;  * 
and  the  schoolmaster,  v.  283  ff.,  says, '  Dissawar,  thou  shalt 


The  lady  bestows  her  love  upon  Dissawar, 
and  he  returns  her  attachment.  In  the  up- 
shot they  marry,  the  false  steward  having 
been  unmasked  and  put  to  death.  1 

What  is  supplied  in  the  ballad  to  make  up 
for  such  passages  in  the  romance  as  are  omitted 
is,  however,  no  less  strictly  traditional  than 
that  which  is  retained.  Indeed,  were  it  not 
for  the  name  Dissawar,  the  romance  might 
have  been  plausibly  treated,  not  as  the  source 
of  the  ballad,  but  simply  as  a  kindred  story ; 
for  the  exquisite  tale  of  '  The  Goose  Girl ' 
presents  every  important  feature  of  '  The  Lord 
of  Lorn,'  the  only  notable  difference  being 
that  the  young  lord  in  the  ballad  exchanges 
parts  with  the  princess  in  the  tale,  an  occur- 
rence of  which  instances  have  been,  from  time 
to  time,  already  indicated. 

In '  DieGansemagd,'  Grimms,  No  89,  II,  13, 
ed.  1857,  a  princess  is  sent  by  her  mother  to 
be  wedded  to  a  bridegroom  in  a  distant  king- 
dom, with  no  escort  but  a  maid.  Distressed 
with  thirst,  the  princess  orders  her  maid  to 
get  down  from  her  horse  and  fetch  her  a  cup 
of  water  from  a  stream  which  they  are  pass- 
ing. The  maid  refuses ;  she  will  no  longer  be 
servant,  and  the  princess  has  to  lie  down  and 
drink  from  the  stream.  So  a  second  and  a  third 
time:  and  then  the  servant  forces  her  mis- 
tress, under  threat  of  death,  to  change  horses 
and  clothes,  and  to  swear  to  keep  the  matter 
secret  at  the  court  to  which  they  are  bound. 
There  the  maid  is  received  as  princess,  while 
the  princess  is  put  to  tending  geese  with  a 
boy.  The  counterfeit  princess,  fearing  that 
her  mistress's  horse,  Falada,  may  tell  what  he 
has  observed,  induces  the  young  prince  to  cut 
off  Falada's  head.  The  princess  has  the  head 
nailed  up  on  a  gate  through  which  she  passes 
when  she  takes  out  the  geese,  and  every  morn- 
ing she  addresses  Falada  with  a  sad  greeting, 
and  receives  a  sad  return.  The  goose-boy 
tells  the  old  king  of  this,  and  the  next  day 
the  king  hides  behind  the  gate  and  hears  what 


/ 


want  neither  meat  nor  laire.'  It  would  seem  that  they  un- 
derstood the  word  to  mean,  "  in  want."  Some  predecessor 
of  the  romance  may  by  and  by  be  recovered  which  shall  put 
the  meaning  beyond  doubt. 


,V^ 


48 


271.  THE  LORD  OP  LORN  AND  THE  FALSE  STEWARD 


passes  between  the  goose-girl  and  Falada. 
The  king  asks  an  explanation  of  the  goose- 
girl  when  she  comes  back  in  the  evening,  but 
the  only  answer  he  elicits  is  that  she  has  taken 
an  oath  to  say  nothing.  Then  the  king  says, 
If  you  will  not  tell  me  your  troubles,  tell 
them  to  the  stove ;  and  the  princess  creeps 
into  the  oven  and  pours  out  all  her  grief : 
how  she,  a  king's  daughter,  has  been  made 
to  change  places  with  her  servant,  and  the 
servant  is  to  marry  the  bridegroom,  and  she 
reduced  to  tend  geese.  All  this  the  king 
bears  from  outside  of  the  room  through  the 
stovepipe,  and  he  loses  no  time  in  repeating 
it  to  his  son.  The  false  maid  is  dragged 
through  the  streets  in  a  barrel  stuck  full  with 
nails,  and  the  princess  married  to  the  prince 
to  whom  she  had  been  contracted. 

The  passage  in  the  ballad  in  which  the 
Lord  of  Lorn  relates  to  the  gelding,  within 


hearing  of  the  duke's  daughter,  the  injuries 
which  he  had  sworn  to  conceal  has,  perhaps, 
suffered  some  corruption,  though  quibbling 
as  to  oaths  is  not  unknown  in  ballads.  The 
lady  should  be  believed  to  be  out  of  earshot, 
as  the  king  is  thought  to  be  by  the  goose-girl. 
Unbosoming  one's  self  to  an  oven  or  stove  ,  / 
is  a  decidedly  popular  trait ;  "  the  unhappy 
and  the  persecuted  betake  themselves  to  the 
stove,  and  to  it  bewail  their  sufferings,  or  con- 
fide a  secret  which  they  may  not  disclose  to 
the  world."  *  An  entirely  similar  passage  (but 
without  an  oath  to  secrecy)  occurs  in  Basile's 
Pentamerone,  li,  8,  where  a  girl  who  has  been 
shamefully  maltreated  by  her  uncle's  wife  tells 
her  very  miserable  story  to  a  doll,  and  is  ac- 
cidentally overheard  by  the  uncle.  The  con- 
clusion of  the  tale  is  quite  analogous  to  that 
of  the  goose-girl. 


t^    A 


Percy  MS.,  p.  73,  HaJcs  and  Fumivall,  1, 180. 

1  It  was  the  worthy  Lord  of  Learen, 

He  was  a  lord  of  a  hie  degree ; 
He  had  noe  mo  e  children  but  one  sonne, 
He  sett  him  to  schoole  to  learne  curtesie. 

2  Lear[n]ing  did  soe  proceed  with  that  child, 

I  tell  you  all  in  veretie, 
He  learned  more  vpon  one  day 
Then  other  children  did  on  three, 

3  And  then  bespake  the  schoole-moster, 

Vnto  the  Lorc^  of  Learne  said  hee, 
I  thinke  thou  be  some  stranger  borne, 
For  the  holy  gost  remaines  with  thee. 

4  He  said,  I  am  noe  stranger  borne, 

Forsooth,  master,  I  tell  it  to  thee ; 
It  is  a  gift  of  Almighty  God 
Which,  he  hath  giuen  vnto  mee. 

5  The  schoole-mas^er  tumd  him  round  about, 

His  angry  mind  he  thought  to  asswage, 

*  Grimm,  Deutsche  Mythologie,  1875,  I,  523  and  note. 
"  In  1585,  a  man  that  had  been  robbed,  and  had  sworn  silence, 
told  his  story  to  a  stove  in  a  tavern."   A  boy  who  has  come 


For  the  child  cold  answer  him  soe  quicUie, 
And  was  of  soe  tender  yeere  of  age. 

6  The  child  he  caused  a  steed  to  be  brought, 

A  golden  bridle  done  him  vpon  ; 
He  tooke  his  leaue  of  his  schoolfellows, 
And  home  the  child  that  he  is  gone. 

7  And  when  he  came  before  his  father, 

He  ffell  low  downe  vpon  his  knee : 
'  My  blessing,  father,  I  wold  aske, 

If  Christ  wold  grant  you  wold  gine  it  me.' 

8  '  Now  God  thee  blesse,  my  sonne  and  my  heire. 

His  servant  in  heauen  tJiat  thou  may  bee ! 
What  tydings  hast  thou  brought  me,  child. 
Thou  art  comen  home  so  soone  to  mee  ? ' 

9  *  Good  tydings,  father,  I  haue  you  brought, 

Goo[d  tydings]  I  hope  it  is  to  thee  ; 
The  booke  is  not  in  all  S[c]ottlande 
But  I  can  reade  it  before  yoMr  eye.' 

10  A  ioyed  man  his  father  was, 

Euen  the  worthy  Jjord  of  Learne  : 

to  knowledge  of  a  plot,  and  has  been  sworn  to  secrecy  on 
pain  of  death,  unburdens  his  mind  to  a  stove.  Grimm, 
Deutsche  Sagen,  No  513,  II,  231. 


371.  THE  LORD  OF  LORN  AND  THE  FALSE  STEWARD 


49 


*  Thou  shalt»goe  into  Ffrance,  my  child, 
The  speeches  of  all  strange  lands  to  leame.' 

11  But  then  bespake  the  child  his  mother, 

The  Lady  of  Learne  and  then  was  shee ; 
Sales,  Who  must  be  his  well  good  guide, 
When  he  goes  into  that  strange  country  ? 

12  And  then  bespake  that  bonnie  child, 

Vntill  his  father  tenderlie  ; 
Sales,  Father,  I  'le  haue  the  hend  steward, 
For  he  hath  beene  true  to  you  and  mee. 

13  The  lady  to  concell  the  steward  did  take. 

And  counted  downe  a  hundred  pound  there ; 
Sales,  Steward,  be  true  to  my  sonne  and  my 
heire, 
And  I  will  giue  thee  mickle  mere. 

14  *  If  I  be  not  true  to  my  master,'  he  said, 

'  Christ  himself e  be  not  trew  to  mee ! 
K  I  be  not  true  to  my  lord  and  master, 
An  ill  death  that  I  may  die  ! ' 

15  The  Lore?  of  Learne  did  apparell  his  child 

With  bruche,  and  ringe,  and  many  a  thinge ; 
The  apparrell  he  had  his  body  vppon, 
Th^  say  was  worth  a  squier's  liuinge. 

16  The  parting  of  the  younge  liord  of  Learne 

With  his  ffather,  his  mother,  his  ffellows 
deere. 
Wold  haue  made  a  manis  hart  for  to  change. 
If  a  lew  borne  that  he  were. 

17  The  wind  did  serue,  and  thd  did  sayle 

Over  the  sea  into  Ffrance  land ; 
He  vsed  the  child  soe  hardlie. 

He  wold  let  him  haue  neuer  a  penny  to  spend. 

18  And  meate  he  wold  let  the  child  haue  none. 

Nor  mony  to  buy  none,  trulie ; 
The  boy  was  hungry  and  thirsty  both  ; 
Alas !  it  was  the  more  pitty. 

19  He  laid  him  downe  to  drinke  the  water 

That  was  soe  low  beneathe  the  brime  ; 
He  [that]  was  wont  to  haue  drunke  both  ale 
and  wine 
Then  was  f  aine  of  the  water  soe  thinne. 

20  And  as  he  was  drinking  of  the  water 

That  ran  soe  low  beneath  the  brime, 
VOL.  y.  7 


Soe  ready  was  the  false  steward 
To  drowne  the  bonny  boy  therin. 

21  '  Haue  mercy  on  me,  worthy  steward  ! 

My  life,'  he  said,  '  lend  it  to  mee. 
And  all  that  I  am  heire  vpon,' 
Sales,  '  I  will  giue  vnto  thee.' 

22  Mercy  to  him  the  steward  did  take, 

And  pulld  the  child  out  of  the  brime ; 
Euer  alacke,  the  more  pittye  ! 

He  tooke  his  clothes  euen  from  him. 

23  Sales,  Doe  thou  me  of  that  veluett  gowne, 

The  crimson  hose  beneath  thy  knee, 
And  doe  me  of  thy  cordiuant  shoone. 
Are  buckled  with  the  gold  soe  free. 

24  *  Doe  thou  me  off  thy  sattin  doublett. 

Thy  shirtband  wrought  with  glistering  gold. 
And  doe  mee  ofiE  thy  golden  chaine. 
About  thy  necke  soe  many  a  fold. 

25  '  Doe  thou  me  off  thy  veluett  hat. 

With  f ether  in  t?iat  is  soe  fBne ; 
All  vnto  thy  silken  shirt. 

That 's  wrought  with  many  a  golden  seam.' 

26  The  child  before  him  naked  stood. 

With  skin  as  white  as  lilly  flower ; 
For  [t]his  worthy  lords  bewtie 

He  might  haue  beene  a  ladye's  paramoure. 

27  He  put  vpon  him  a  lether  cote. 

And  breeches  of  the  same  beneath  the  knee, 
And  sent  that  bony  child  him  froe. 
Service  for  to  craue,  truly. 

28  He  pulld  then  forth  a  naked  sword 

That  hange  full  low  then  by  his  side ; 
'  Tume  thy  name,  thou  villaine,'  he  said, 
*  Or  else  this  sword  shall  be  thy  guide.* 

29  *  What  must  be  my  name,  worthy  steward  ? 

I  pray  thee  now  tell  it  me  : ' 
*  Thy  name  shalbe  Pore  Disaware, 
To  tend  sheepe  on  a  lonelye  lee.* 

30  The  bonny  child  he  went  him  froe. 

And  looked  to  himself  e,  truly ; 

Saw  his  apparrell  soe  simple  vppon ; 

O  liord !  he  weeped  tenderlye. 


60 


271.  THE  LORD  OF  LORN  AND  THE  FALSE  STEWARD 


31  Vnto  a  shepard's  house  that  childe  did  goe, 

And  said,  Sir,  God  you  saue  and  see  ! 
Doe  you  not  want  a  servant-boy, 

To  tend  yowr  sheepe  on  a  lonelie  lee  ?    \ 

32  *  Where  was  thou  borne  ? '  the  shepard  said, 

'  Where,  my  boy,  or  in  what  country  ?  ' 

*  Str,'  he  said,  '  I  was  borne  in  f  ayre  ScotUand, 

That  is  soe  farr  beyond  the  sea.' 

33  '  I  haue  noe  child,'  the  shepard  sayd  ; 

'  My  boy,  thoust  tarry  and  dwell  with  mee ; 
My  liuinge,'  he  sayd,  '  and  all  my  goods, 
I  'le  make  thee  heire  [of]  after  mee.' 

34  And  then  bespake  the  shepard's  wife, 

To  the  Ijord  of  Learne  thus  did  she  say ; 

*  Goe  thy  way  to  our  sheepe,'  she  said, 

'  And  tend  them  well  both  night  and  day.' 

36  It  was  a  sore  office,  O  Jjord,  for  him 

That  was  a  lord  borne  of  a  great  degree  ! 
As  he  was  tending  his  sheepe  alone. 
Neither  sport  nor  play  cold  hee. 

36  Let  vs  leaue  talking  of  the  Lore?  of  Learne, 

And  let  aU  such  talking  goe ; 
Let  vs  talke  more  of  the  false  steward, 
That  caused  the  child  all  this  woe. 

37  He  sold  this  Lore?  of  Leame's  his  clothes 

For  fiue  hundred  pound  to  his  pay  [there], 
And  bought  himselfe  a  suite  of  apparrell 
Might  weU  beseeme  a  lord  to  weare. 

38  When  he  that  gorgeous  apparrell  bought. 

That  did  soe  finelie  his  body  vppon, 
He  laughed  the  bony  child  to  scome 
That  was  the  bonny  Lore?  of  Learne. 

89  He  laughed  that  bonny  boy  to  scome ; 
Lore? !  pitty  it  was  to  heare  ; 
I  haue  herd  them  say,  and  soe  haue  you  too, 
Thalt  a  man  may  buy  gold  to  deere. 

40  When  that  he  had  all  that  gorgeous  apparrell, 

That  did  soe  finelie  his  body  vpon, 
He  went  a  woing  to  the  Duke's  daughter  of 
France, 
And  called  himselfe  the  Lore?  of  Learne. 

41  The  Duke  of  Ffrance  heard  teU  of  this. 

To  his   place  that  worthy  lore?  was  come, 
truly; 


He  entertaind  him  with  a  quart  of  red  Renish 
wi[ne], 
Sales,  Lore?  of  Learne,  thou  art  welcome 
to  me. 

42  Then  to  supper  that  they  were  sett, 

Lords  and  ladyes  in  their  degree ; 
The  steward  was  sett  next  the  Duke  of  France ; 
Aji  vnseemlye  sight  it  was  to  see. 

43  Then  bespake  the  Duke  of  Ffrance, 

Vnto  the  Lore?  of  Leeame  said  hee  there, 
Sayes,  Lore?  of  Learne,  if  thou  'le  marry  my 

daught[er], 
I  'le  mend  thy  liuing  fiue  hundred  pound  a 

yeere. 

44  Then  bespake  that  lady  f  ayre, 

Answered  her  ffather  soe  alone, 
That  shee  would  be  his  marryed  wiffe 
If  he  wold  make  her  lady  of  Learne. 

45  Then  hand  in  hand  the  steward  her  he  tooke, 

And  plight  that  lady  his  troth  alone. 
That  she  shold  be  his  marryed  wiffe, 
And  he  wold  make  her  the  ladle  of  Learne. 

46  Thus  that  night  it  was  gone, 

The  other  day  was  come,  truly ; 
The  lady  wold  see  the  robucke  run, 
Vp  hills  and  dales  and  f orrest  free. 

47  Then  shee  was  ware  of  the  younge  Lore?  of 

Learne 
Tending  sheepe  vnder  a  bryar,  trulye. 


48  And  thus  shee  called  vnto  her  maids. 

And  held  her  hands  vp  thus  an  hie ; 
Sayes,  Feitch  me  yond  shepard's  boy, 
I  'le  know  why  he  doth  mourne,  trulye. 

49  When  he  came  before  f Actt  lady  fayer. 

He  fell  downe  vpon  his  knee  ; 
He  had  beene  so  well  brought  vpp 
He  needed  not  to  learne  curtesie. 

50  *  Where  wast  thou  borne,  thou  bonny  boy  ? 

Where  or  in  what  countrye  ?  ' 
'  Madam,  I  was  borne  in  f  aire  Scotland, 
That  is  soe  farr  beyond  the  sea.' 


271.  THE  LORD  OP  LOBN  AND  THE  FALSE  STEWARD 


51 


51  '  What  is  thy  name,  thou  bonny  boy  ? 

I  pray  thee  tell  it  vnto  mee ; ' 

*  My  name,'  he  sayes,  '  is  Poore  Disaware, 

That  tends  sheepe  on  a  lonely  lee.' 

52  '  One  thing  thou  must  tell  mee,  bonny  boy. 

Which  I  must  needs  aske  of  thee, 
Dost  not    thou    know  the    young  Jjord  of 
Leame? 
He  is  comen  a  woLng  into  France  to  me.' 

53  '  Yes,  that  I  doe,  madam,'  he  said, 

And  then  he  wept  most  tenderlie ; 

*  The  Lore?  of  Leame  is  a  worthy  lord, 

If  he  were  at  home  in  his  oune  country.* 

54  '  What  ayles  thee  to  weepe,  my  bonny  boy  ? 

Tell  me  or  ere  I  part  thee  f roe  : ' 

*  Nothing  but  for  a  f reind,  madam. 

That 's  dead  from  me  many  a  yeere  agoe.' 

55  A  loud  laughter  the  ladie  lought, 

O  Jjord  !  shee  smiled  wonderous  hie  : 

*  I  haue  dwelled  in  France  since  I  was  borne ; 

Such  a  shepard's  boy  I  did  neuer  see. 

56  *  Wilt  thou  not  leaue  thy  sheepe,  my  child; 

And  come  vnto  service  vnto  mee  ? 
And  I  will  giue  thee  meate  and  fee. 
And  my  chamberlaine  thou  shalt  bee.' 

57  '  Then  I  will  leaue  my  sheepe,  madam,*  he 

sayd, 
*And  come  into  service  vnto  thee. 
If  you  will  giue  me  meate  and  fee, 
Yowr  chamberlaine  tfiat  I  may  bee.* 

58  When  the  lady  came  before  her  father, 

Shee  fell  low  downe  vpon  her  knee ; 

*  Grant  me,  father,'  the  lady  said, 

'  This  boy  my  chamberlaine  to  be.*  j 

59  *  But  O  nay,  nay,'  the  duke  did  say, 

'  Soe  my  daughter  it  may  not  bee ;    ' 
The  lord  that  is  come  a  woing  to  you 
Will  be  offended  with  you  and  mee.* 

60  Then  came  downe  the  false  steward, 

Which,  called  himselfe  the  Jjord  of  Leame, 
trulie; 
When  he  looked  that  bonny  boy  vpon, 
An  angry  man  i-wis  was  bee. 


61  '  Where  was  thou  borne,  thou  vagabond  ? 

Where  ? '  he  sayd,  '  and  in  what  country  ?  * 
Says,  I  was  borne  in  f ayre  Scotland, 
That  is  soe  far  beyond  the  sea. 

62  '  What  is  thy  name,  thou  vagabond  ? 

Haue  done  qu[i]cklie,  and  tell  it  to  me  ; ' 
'  My  name,'  he  sayes,  '  is  Poore  Disaware, 
I  tend  sheep  on  the  lonelie  lee.' 

63  '  Thou  art  a  theef  e,'  the  steward  said, 

'  And  soe  in  the  end  I  will  prooue  thee ; ' 


64  Then  be-spake  the  ladie  f  ayre, 

*  Peace,  Lord  of  Learne  !  I  doe  pray  thee ; 
Ff or  if  noe  loue  you  show  this  child, 
Noe  favor  can  you  haue  of  mee.' 

65  *  Will  you  beleeue  me,  lady  f  aire. 

When  the  truth  I  doe  teU  yee  ? 
Att  Aberdonie,  beyond  the  sea. 

His  father  he  robbed  a  hundred  three.' 

66  But  then  bespake  the  Duke  of  France 

Vnto  the  boy  soe  tenderlie ; 
Saies,  Boy,  if  thou  loue  harsses  well. 
My  stable-groome  I  will  make  thee. 

67  And  thus  that  that  did  passe  vppon 

Till  the  twelve  monthes  did  draw  to  an 
ende; 
The  boy  applyed  his  office  soe  well 
Euery  man  became  his  f  reind. 

68  He  went  forth  earlye  one  morning 

To  water  a  gelding  at  the  water  soe  free ; 
The  gelding  vp,  and  with  his  head 
He  hitt  the  child  aboue  his  eye. 

69  '  Woe  be  to  thee,  thou  gelding,'  he  sayd, 

'  And  to  the  mare  that  f  oled  thee ! 
Thou  hast  striken  the  Lore?  of  Leame 
A  litle  tinye  aboue  the  eye. 

70  *  First  night  after  I  was  borne,  a  lord  I  waSj 

An  earle  after  my  father  doth  die  ; 
My  father  is  the  worthy  Lort^  of  Leame, 

And  child  he  hath  noe  more  but  mee ; 
He  sent  me  over  the  sea  with  the  false  stew- 
ard. 

And  thus  that  he  hath  beguiled  mee.' 


62 


271.  THE  LORD  OF  LORN  AND  THE  FALSE  STEWARD 


71  The  lady  [wajs  in  her  garden  greene, 

Walking  wtth  her  mayds,  trulye, 
And  heard  the  boy  this  mourning  make, 
And  went  to  weeping,  trulie. 

72  '  Sing  on  thy  song,  thou  stable  groome, 

I  pray  thee  doe  not  let  for  mee. 
And  as  I  am  a  true  ladie 
I  wUbe  trew  vnto  thee.' 

73  *  But  nay,  now  nay,  madam ! '  he  sayd, 

'  Soe  that  it  may  not  bee ; 
I  am  tane  sworne  vpon  a  booke. 
And  f  orsworne  I  will  not  bee.' 

74  '  Sing  on  thy  song  to  thy  gelding, 

And  thou  doest  not  sing  to  mee ; 
And  as  I  am  a  true  ladie 

I  will  euer  be  true  vnto  thee.' 

76  He  sayd,  Woe  be  to  thee,  gelding, 
And  to  the  mare  thai  f  oled  thee ! 
For  thou  hast  strucken  the  Lorrf  of  Leame 
A  litle  aboue  mine  eye. 

76  First  night  I  was  borne,  a  lord  I  was, 

An  earle  after  my  father  doth  dye ; 
My  father  is  the  good  luord  of  Learne, 

And  child  he  hath  noe  other  but  mee ; 
My  father  sent  me  over  [the  sea]  with  the 
false  steward. 

And  thus  that  he  hath  beguiled  mee. 

77  '  Woe  be  to  the  steward,  lady,'  he  sayd, 

'  Woe  be  to  him  verrily  ! 
He  hath  beene  about  this  twelve  months  day 
For  to  deceiue  both  thee  and  mee. 

78  *  K  you  doe  not  my  counceU  keepe. 

That  I  haue  told  you  with  good  intent. 
And  if  you  doe  it  not  well  keepe, 
Ff arwell !  my  life  is  at  an  ende.' 

79  '  I  wilbe  true  to  thee,  Juord  of  Leame, 

Or  else  Christ  be  not  soe  vnto  me ; 
And  as  I  am  a  trew  ladye, 

I  'le  neuer  marry  none  but  thee.' 

80  Shee  sent  in  for  her  father,  the  Duke, 

In  all  the  speed  that  ere  might  bee  ; 
*  Put  of  my  wedding,  father,'  shee  said, 
*  For  the  loue  of  God,  this  monthes  three. 


81  '  Sicke  I  am,'  the  ladye  said, 

'  0  sicke,  and  verry  like  to  die ! 
Put  of  my  wedding,  father  Duke, 

Ffor  the  loue  of  God,  this  monthSs  three.* 

82  The  Duke  of  France  put  of  this  wedding 

Of  the  steward  and  the  lady  monthgs  three, 
For  the  ladie  sicke  shee  was, 
Sicke,  sicke,  and  like  to  die. 

83  Shee  wrote  a  letter  with  her  owne  hand, 

In  aU  the  speede  that  euer  might  bee ; 
Shee  sent  [it]  over  into  Scottland, 
That  is  soe  fEarr  beyond  the  sea. 

84  When  the  messenger  came  befEore  the  old 

Jjord  of  Learne, 
He  kneeled  low  downe  on  his  knee. 
And  he  deliuered  the  letter  vnto  him, 
In  all  the  speed  that  euer  might  bee. 

85  [The]  first  looke  he  looked  the  letter  vpon, 

Lo !  he  wept  full  bitterly ; 
The  second  looke  he  looked  it  vpon. 
Said,  False  steward,  woe  be  to  thee  ! 

86  When  the   Ladye   of  Learne   these  tydings 

heard, 
O  Lord !  shee  wept  soe  biterlye : 
*  I  told  you  of  this,  now  good  my  lord. 

When   I    sent    my   child    into    that  wild 

country.' 

87  '  Peace,  Lady  of  Learne,'  the  lord  did  say, 

'  For  Christ  his  loue  I  doe  pray  thee ; 
And  as  I  am  a  christian  man, 
Wroken  vpon  him  that  I  wilbe.* 

88  He  wrote  a  letter  with  his  owne  hand. 

In  all  the  speede  that  ere  might  bee ; 
He  sent  it  into  the  lords  in  Scottland, 
That  were  borne  of  a  great  degree. 

89  He  sent  for  lords,  he  sent  for  Vnights, 

The  best  that  were  in  the  countrye. 
To  go  with  him  into  the  land  of  France, 
To  seeke  his  sonne  in  that  strange  country. 

90  The  wind  was  good,  and  they  did  sayle. 

Fine  hundred  men  into  France  land. 
There  to  seeke  that  bonny  boy 

That  was  the  worthy  Jjord  of  Leame. 


271.  THE  LORD  OF  LORN  AND  THE  FALSE  STEWARD 


63 


91  They  sought  the  country  through  and  through, 

Soe  farr  to  the  Duke's  place  of  Ffrance 
land; 
There  they  were  ware  of  thai  bonny  boy, 
Standing  with  a  porter's  staffe  in  his  hand. 

92  Then  the  worshippfuU,  thd  did  bowe, 

The  serving-men  fell  on  their  knee, 
They  cast  their  hatts  vp  into  the  ayre 
For  ioy  that  boy  thai  they  had  scene. 

93  The  "Lord  of  Learne  then  he  light  downe. 

And  kist  his  child  both  cheeke  and  chinne, 
And  said,  God  blesse  thee,  my  sonne  and  my 
heire ! 
The  blisse  of  heauen  that  thou  may  winne ! 

94  The  false  steward  and  the  Duke  of  France 

Were  in  a  castle-topp,  trulie  ; 
'  What  f ooles  are  yond,'  says  the  false  steward, 

*  To  the  porter  makes  soe  lowe  curtesie  ? ' 

95  Then  bespake  the  Duke  of  Ffrance, 

Calling  my  Lore?  of  Learne,  trulie  ; 
He  sayd,  I  doubt  the  day  be  come 
That  either  you  or  I  must  die. 

96  Th^  sett  the  castle  round  about, 

A  swallow  cold  not  haue  flone  away  ; 
And  there  th^  tooke  the  false  steward 
That  the  Jjord  of  Learne  did  betray. 

97  And  when  they  had  taken  the  false  steward, 

He  fell  lowe  downe  vpon  his  knee, 
And  craued  mercy  of  the  Jjord  of  Learne 
For  the  villanous  dedd  he  had  done,  trulye. 

98  '  Thou  shalt  haue  mercy,'  said  the  Jjord  of 

Learne, 

*  Thou  vile  traitor,  I  tell  to  thee. 

As  the  lawes  of  the  realme   they  wiU  thee 
beare, 
Wether  it  bee  for  thee  to  line  or  dye.' 

99  A  quest  of  lords  that  there  was  chosen, 

To  goe  vppon  his  death,  trulie  ; 
There  thd  iudged  the  false  steward. 
Whether  he  was  guiltie,  and  for  to  dye. 

100  The  forman  of  the  iury  he  came  in, 

He  spake  his  words  full  lowd  and  hie ; 


Said,  Make  thee  ready,  thou  false  steward, 
For  now  thy  death  it  drawes  full  nie. 

101  Sayd  he.  If  my  death  it  doth  draw  nie, 

God  f  orgiue  me  all  I  haue  done  amisse  ! 
Where  is  that  lady  I  haue  loued  soe  longe  ? 
Before  my  death  to  giue  me  a  kisse. 

102  '  Away,  thou  traitor  ! '  the  lady  said, 

'  Auoyd  out  of  my  company ! 
For  thy  vUd  treason  thou  hast  wrought, 
Thou  had  need  to  cry  to  God  for  mercye.' 

103  First  they  tooke  him  and  h[a]ngd  him  halfe. 

And  let  him  downe  before  he  was  dead, 
And  quartered  him  in  quarters  many, 
And  sodde  him  in  a  boyling  lead. 

104  And  then  they  tooke  him  out  againe, 

And  cutten  all  his  ioynts  in  sunder, 
And  burnte  him  eke  vpon  a  hyU ; 
I-wis  thd  did  him  curstlye  cumber. 

105  A  loud  laughter  the  lady  laught, 

0  Lord !  she  smiled  merrylie ; 

She  sayd,  I  may  praise  my  heauenly  "king 
That  euer  I  scene  this  vile  traytor  die. 

106  Then  bespake  the  Duke  of  France, 

Vnto  the   right  Lore?  of  Learne   sayd  he 
there ; 
Says,  Lore?  of  Learne,  if  thou  wilt  marry  my 
daught[er] 

1  'le  mend  thy  lining  fine  hundred  a  yeere. 

107  But  then  bespake  that  bonie  boy, 

And  answered  the  Duke  quicklie, 
I  had  rather  marry  yowr  daughter  with  a  ring 
of  go[ld] 
Then  all  the  gold  tJiat  ere  I  blinket  on  with 
mine  eye. 

108  But  then  bespake  the  old  Jjord  of  Learne, 

To  the  Duke  of  France  thus  he  did  say, 
Seeing  our  children  doe  soe  well  agree, 
They  shalbe  marryed  ere  wee  goe  away. 

109  The  Lady  of  Learne  shee  was  sent  for 

Throughout  Scottland  soe  speedilie, 
To  see  these  two  children  sett  vpp 
In  their  seats  of  gold  full  royallye. 


271.  THE  LORD  OP  LOBN  AND  THE  FALSE  STEWARD 


B 


a.  Wood,  401,  fol.  95  b.  b.  Roxburghe,  I,  222,  HI,  534 ; 
Roxburghe  Ballads,  ed.  Chappell,  II,  55.  c.  Pepys,  I,  494, 
No  254  (from  a  transcript  in  Percy's  papers). 

1  It  was  a  worthy  Lord  of  Lorn, 

He  was  a  lord  of  high  degree, 
He  sent  [his  son]  unto  the  schoole, 

To  learn  some  civility.  ^ 

2  He  learned  more  learning  in  one  day 

Then  other  children  did  in  three ; 
And  then  hespake  the  schoolmaster 

Unto  him  tenderly.  3 

3  '  In  faith  thou  art  the  honestest  boy 

That  ere  I  blinkt  on  with  mine  eye ; 
I  hope  thou  art  some  easterling  born, 

The  Holy  Ghost  is  with  thee.'  3 

4  He  said  he  was  no  easterling  bom. 

The  child  thus  answered  courteously  ; 
My  father  is  the  Lord  of  Lorn, 

And  I  his  son,  perdye.  5 

5  The  schoolmaster  turned  round  about, 

His  angry  mood  he  could  not  swage ; 
He  marvelled  the  child  could  speak  so  wis^ 
He  being  of  so  tender  age.  ^ 

6  He  girt  the  saddle  to  the  steed, 

The  bridle  of  the  best  gold  shone  ; 
He  took  his  leave  of  his  fellows  all, 

And  quickly  he  was  gone.  3 

7  And  when  he  came  to  his  father  dear 

He  kneeled  down  upon  his  knee ; 
'  I  am  come  to  you,  f athe[r],'  he  said, 
'  God's  blessing  give  you  me.'  3 

8  '  Thou  art  welcome,  son,'  he  said, 

'  God's  blessing  I  give  thee ; 
What  tidings  hast  thou  brought,  my  son, 
Being  come  so  hastily  ?  '  <> 

9  *  I  have  brought  tidings,  father,'  he  said, 

'  And  so  liked  it  may  be. 
There 's  never  a  book  in  all  Scotland 
But  I  can  read  it,  truly.  3 

10  *  There  's  nere  a  doctor  in  all  this  realm. 
For  all  he  goes  in  rich  array, 
I  can  write  him  a  lesson  soon 

To  learn  in  seven  years  day.'  3 


11  '  That  is  good  tidings,'  said  the  lord, 

'  All  in  the  place  where  I  do  stand ; 
My  son,  thou  shalt  into  France  go. 

To  learn  the  speeches  of  each  land.*  ' 

12  *  Who  shall  go  with  him  ?  '  said  the  lady ; 

'  Husband,  we  have  no  more  but  he ; ' 
'  Madam,'  he  saith,  '  my  head  steward, 

He  hath  bin  true  to  me.'  ^ 

13  She  cal'd  the  steward  to  an  account, 

A  thousand  pound  she  gave  him  anon ; 
Sayes,  Good  Sir  Steward,  be  as  good  to  my 
child. 
When  he  is  far  from  home.  ^ 

14  '  If  I  be  f als  unto  my  young  lord, 

Then  God  be  [the]  like  to  me  indeed !  * 
And  now  to  France  they  both  are  gone, 

And  Grod  be  their  good  speed.  ^ 

15  They  had  not  been  in  France  land 

Not  three  weeks  unto  an  end. 
But  meat  and  drink  the  child  got  none. 

Nor  mony  in  purse  to  spend.  ^ 

16  The  child  ran  to  the  river's  side ; 

He  was  fain  to  drink  water  then ; 
And  after  followed  the  fals  steward, 

To  put  the  child  therein.  J 

17  *  But  nay,  marry ! '  said  the  child. 

He  asked  mercy  pittifully, 
*  Good  steward,  let  me  have  my  life, 

What  ere  betide  my  body.'  ^ 

18  *Now  put  off  thy  fair  cloathing 

And  g^ve  it  me  anon ; 
So  put  thee  of  thy  s'lken  shirt. 

With  many  a  golden  seam.'  I 

19  But  when  the  child  was  stript  naked. 

His  body  white  as  the  lilly-flower, 
He  might  have  bin  seen  for  his  body 

A  prince's  paramour.  -? 

20  He  put  him  in  an  old  kelter  coat 

And  hose  of  the  same  above  the  knee, 
He  bid  him  go  to  the  shepherd's  house. 

To  keep  sheep  on  a  lonely  lee.  ^  /  ? 

21  The  child  did  say.  What  shall  be  my  name  ? 

Good  steward,  tell  to  me ; 


271.  THE  LORD  OF  LORN  AND  THE  FALSE  STEWARD 


55 


*  Thy  name  shall  be  Poor  Disawear, 

That  thy  name  shall  be.'  ^ 

22  The  child  came  to  the  shepheard's  house 

And  asked  mercy  pittif  ully  ; 
Sayes,  Good  sir  shepheard,  take  me  in, 

To  keep  sheep  on  a  lonely  lee.  ^/^ 

23  But  when  the  shepheard  saw  the  child, 

He  was  so  pleasant  in  his  eye, 
'  I  have  no  child,  I  le  make  thee  my  heir. 
Thou  shalt  have  my  goods,  perdie.'  7 

24  And  then  bespake  the  shepheard's  wife. 

Unto  the  child  so  tenderly  ; 

*  Thou  must  take  the  sheep  and  go  to  the  field, 

And  keep  them  on  a  lonely  lee.' 

25  Now  let  us  leave  talk  of  the  child, 

That  is  keeping  sheep  on  a  lonely  lee. 
And  we  '1  talk  more  of  the  f als  steward. 
And  of  his  fals  treachery. 

26  He  bought  himself  three  suits  of  apparrell. 

That  any  lord  might  a  seem[d]  to  worn, 
He  went  a  wooing  to  the  Duke's  daughter, 
And  cal'd  himself  the  Lord  of  Lorn.  '/ 

27  The  duke  he  welcomed  the  yong  lord 

With  three  baked  stags  anon  ; 
K  he  had  wist  him  the  fals  steward, 

To  the  devill  he  would  have  gone.  J 

28  But  when  they  were  at  supper  set, 

With  dainty  delicates  that  was  there, 
The  d[uke]  said,  If  thou  wilt  wed  my  daughter, 
I  'le  give  thee  a  thousand  pound  a  year.       H 

29  The  lady  would  see  the  red  buck  run. 

And  also  for  to  hunt  the  doe, 
And  with  a  hundred  lusty  men 

The  lady  did  a  hunting  go.  "^ 

30  The  lady  is  a  hunting  gon, 

Over  le  and  fell  that  is  so  high ; 
There  was  she  ware  of  a  shepherd's  boy, 
With  sheep  on  a  lonely  lee.  ^ 

31  And  ever  he  sighed  and  made  moan, 

And  cried  out  pittifully, 

*  My  father  is  the  Lord  of  Lorn, 

And  knows  not  wha[t]  's  become  of  me.'     ^ 


32  And  then  bespake  the  lady  gay, 

And  to  her  maid  she  spake  anon, 
'  Go  fetch  me  hither  the  shepherd's  boy ; 
Why  maketh  he  all  this  moan  ?  ' 

33  But  when  he  came  before  the  lady 


He  was  not  to  learn  his  courtesie : 

34  *  Where  was  thou  born,  thou  bonny  child  ? 

For  whose  sake  makst  thou  all  this  mone  ?  ' 

*  My  dearest  friend,  lady,'  he  said, 

*  Is  dead  many  years  agon.' 

35  *  Tell  thou  to  me,  thou  bonny  child, 

Tell  me  the  truth  and  do  not  lye, 
Ejiost  thou  not  the  yong  lord  of  Lorn, 
Is  come  a  wooing  unto  me  ?  ' 

36  *  Yes,  forsooth,'  then  said  the  child, 

'  I  know  the  lord  then,  veryly ; 
The  young  lord  is  a  valliant  lord 
At  home  in  his  own  country.' 

37  '  Wilt  leave  thy  sheep,  thou  bonny  child, 

And  come  in  service  unto  me  ?  ' 

*  Tes,  forsooth,'  then  said  the  child, 

*  At  your  bidding  will  I  be.' 

38  When  the  steward  lookt  upon  the  child, 

He  bewraild  him  villainously  : 
'  Where  wast  thou  born,  thou  vagabone  ? 
Or  where  is  thy  country  ?  * 

39  *  Ha  don !  ha  don  ! '  said  the  lady  gay, 

She  cal'd  the  steward  then  presently ; 

*  Without  you  bear  him  more  good  will, 

You  get  no  love  of  me.' 

40  Then  bespake  the  false  steward 

Unto  the  lady  hastily : 
'  At  Aberdine,  beyond  the  seas, 
His  father  robbed  thousands  three.' 

41  But  then  bespake  the  lady  gay 

Unto  her  father  courteously, 
Saying,  I  have  found  a  bonny  child 

My  chamberlain  to  be.  ":. 

42  '  Not  so,  not  so,'  then  said  the  duke, 

*  For  so  it  may  not  be, 


5e 


271.  THE  LORD  OF  LORN  AND  THE  FALSE  STEWARD 


For  that  young  L[ord]  of  Lorn  that  comes 
a  wooing 
Will  think  somthing  of  thee  and  me.'         ^ 

43  When  the  duke  had  lookt  upon  the  child, 

He  seemd  so  pleasant  to  the  eye, 

*  Child,  because  thou  lovst  horses  well. 

My  g^room  of  stables  thou  shalt  be.'  H 

44  The  child  plied  the  horses  well 

A  twelve  month  to  an  end ; 
He  was  so  courteous  and  so  true 

Every  man  became  his  fri[e]nd.  ^ 

45  He  led  a  fair  gelding  to  the  water. 

Where  he  might  drink,  verily  ; 
The  great  gelding  up  with  his  head 

And  hit  the  child  above  the  eye.  4* 

46  '  Wo  worth  thee,  horse  ! '  then  said  the  child, 

*  That  ere  mare  foaled  thee  ! 
Thou  little  knowst  what  thou  hast  done ; 

Thou  hast  stricken  a  lord  of  high  degree.'    ~ 

47  The  d[uke's]   daughter   was   in  her  garden 

green. 
She  heard  the  child  make  great  moan  ; 
She  ran  to  the  child  all  weeping. 

And  left  her  maidens  all  alone.  ^ 

48  '  Sing  on  thy  song,  thou  bonny  child, 

I  will  release  thee  of  thy  pain  ; ' 

*  I  have  made  an  oath,  lady,'  he  said, 

'  I  dare  not  tell  my  tale  again.'  4* 

49  '  Tell  the  horse  thy  tale,  thou  bonny  child, 

And  so  thy  oath  shall  saved  be  ; ' 
But  when  he  told  the  horse  his  tale 

The  lady  wept  full  tenderly.  ^ 

50  '  I  'le  do  for  thee,  my  bonny  child. 

In  faith  I  will  do  more  for  thee  ; 
For  I  will  send  thy  father  word. 

And  he  shall  come  and  speak  with  me.      ^ 

51  '  I  will  do  more,  my  bonny  child, 

In  faith  I  will  do  more  for  thee. 
And  for  thy  sake,  my  bonny  child, 

I  'le  put  my  wedding  off  months  three.*     ^ 

52  The  lady  she  did  write  a  letter, 

Full  pittifully  with  her  own  hand, 


She  sent  it  to  the  Lord  of  Lorn 
Whereas  he  dwelt  in  fair  Scotland. 

53  But  when  the  lord  had  read  the  letter 

His  lady  wept  most  tenderly  : 
*  I  knew  what  would  become  of  my  child 
In  such  a  far  country.' 

54  The  old  lord  cal'd  up  his  merry  men. 

And  all  that  he  gave  cloth  and  fee, 
With  seven  lords  by  his  side. 
And  into  France  rides  he. 

55  The  wind  servd,  and  they  did  saile 

So  far  into  France  land ; 
They  were  ware  of  the  Lord  of  Lorn, 
With  a  porter's  staff  in  his  hand. 

56  The  lords  they  moved  hat  and  hand, 

The  servingmen  f  eU  on  their  knee  ; 
'  What  folks  be  yonder,'  said  the  steward, 
*  That  makes  the  porter  courtesie  ? ' 


V3 


f- 


57  *Thou  art  a  false  thief,'  said  the  L[ord]  of 

Lorn, 
*  No  longer  might  I  bear  with  thee ; 
By  the  law  of  France  thou  shalt  be  ju[d]gd. 
Whether  it  be  to  live  or  die.'  ^ 

58  A  quest  of  lords  there  chosen  was, 

To  bench  they  came  hastily. 
But  when  the  quest  was  ended 

The  f als  steward  must  dye.  3 

59  First  they  did  him  half  hang, 

And  then  they  took  him  down  anon, 
And  then  put  him  in  boyling  lead. 

And  then  was  sodden,  brest  and  bone.      ^ 

60  And  then  bespake  the  Lord  of  Lorn, 

With  many  other  lords  mo ; 
*  Sir  Duke,  if  you  be  as  willing  as  we, 
We  '1  have  a  marriage  before  we  go.'       ^ 

61  These  children  both  they  did  re  Joyce 

To  hear  the  lord  his  tale  so  ended  ; 
They  had  rather  to  day  then  to  morrow, 
So  he  would  not  be  offended.  -^ 

62  But  when  the  wedding  ended  was 

There  was  delicious  dainty  cheer ; 
I  'le  tell  you  how  long  the  wedding  did  last, 
Full  three  quarters  of  a  year.  3 


271.  THE  LORD  OF  LORN  AND  THE  FALSE  STEWARD 


57 


63  Such  a  banquet  there  was  wrought, 

The  like  was  never  seen ; 
The  king  of  France  brought  with  him  then 
A  hundred  tun  of  good  red  wine.  ^ 

64  Five  set  of  musitians  were  to  be  seen, 

That  never  rested  night  nor  day. 
Also  Italians  there  did  sing, 

Full  pleasantly  with  great  joy.  3 


65  Thus  have  you  heard  what  troubles  great 

Unto  successive  joyes  did  turn. 
And  happy  news  among  the  rest 
Unto  the  worthy  Lord  of  Lorn. 

66  Let  rebels  therefore  wamgd  be 

How  mischief  once  they  do  pretend  ; 
For  God  may  suffer  for  a  time, 
But  will  disclose  it  in  the  end. 


A.    2*.  on  3.    6*.  agee.    9'.  to  mee. 

10*.  to  leame  the  speeches  of  all  strange  lands. 
13*.  lOO'j.     16«.  ?  mams  in  MS.     Furnivall. 
lO**.  brinm.     19*.  thime.     22*.  euen  alacke. 
24*.  a  long  s  in  the  MS.  between  me  and 

off.     F. 
25'*.  thats.     25*.  golden  swaine.     B.  seam. 
35".  tenting.     36».  falst. 
37^  500^! :  pay  [there].     Cf.  43«,  105». 
43*.  500!.     46».  rum. 
47^'^,  48^'',  make  a  stanza  in  the  MS.,  and 

62''*,  53,  are  ivritten  together.    47-53  have 

been  arranged  upon  the  supposition  that 

two  verses  (about  the  boy's  mourning)  have 

dropped  out  after  47^*''. 
48^'^  A  tag  after  d  in  maids,  hands  rtiay  not 

mean  s.     F. 
53*.  One  stroke  too  many  for  oune  in  MS.   F. 
54^  One  stroke  tooTnany  for  bony,  or  too  few 

for  bonny,  in  the  MS.     F. 
60*.  I-wis.      61*.  thou  was. 
63^^,  64,  are  vrritten  together  in  the  MS. 
U\  he  spake.     65*.  100 :  3.     67».  12. 
69*.  the  knee.  Cf    .68*,  75*. 
70*.  his  child.     Cf  76*. 
74*.  euer.    Either  ieuer  in  MS.  or  the  letter 

before  e  crossed  out.    F. 
75*'2  are  written  with  74,  75''*  unth  76^',  in 

the  MS. 
75*.  to  thy.    W.  Cf  70«.    77».  to  thee. 
77'.  beene  aboue  :  12. 
79*.  soe  m^y  be  true :  half  the  line  is  pared 

away.     F. 
80*,  81*,  82^  3.    90«.  500.    92«.  knees. 
92*.  Perhaps  did  see.     93'.  chime. 
93*.  wiine.     95».  daubt. 
98*.  they.     The  y  is  in  a  modem  hand.      F. 
1002.  hiye.     106*.  500. 
107*.  mine.    One  stroke  too  few  in  the  MS.    F. 

VOL.  V.  8 


109^  They :  for  sent. 
109".  2.     AnAfm-Sc  always. 
B,     The  tune  is  Green  Sleeves. 

a.  Printed  for  F.  Coles,  T.  Vere,  and  W.  Gil- 

bertson. 

b.  Printed  by  and  for  A.  M[ilbourne],  and  sold 

by  the  booksellers  of  London. 
O.  Printed   for  J.  Clarke,  W.  Thackeray,   and 

T.  Passinger. 
a,  b,  c.  1'.  b,  c.  sent  his  son. 
2^.  b,  c.  learning  wanting. 
2».  b,  c.  And  thus.     2*.  o.  To  him. 
3'.  b,  c.  with  my.     4*.  a.  Lord  of  Lord. 
5^  b.  he  thought  to  asswage. 
5*.  b.  so  tender  of. 

6'.  au  of  his  (?)  gold,    b,  c.  of  the  best  gold. 
7*.  c.  on  his.     7*.  b.  give  to. 
8*.  b,  c.  my  son.     8'*.  o.  I  the  give. 
9'.  b.  if  that  well  liked.    9«*.  b,o.   Wanting. 
10^  b,  o.  all  the.     11«.  b.  to  France. 
12*.  b,  o.  have  none.     12'.  b.  said  he. 
13*.  b,  c.  as  wanting.     13*.  b,  c.  while  he. 
14\  b.  false  to. 
14'.  b.  may  Grod  justly   punish  me  indeed. 

C.  the  like. 
15*.  b,  c.  to  an.     16^  b,  c.  run.    b.  river. 
16'.  b.  the  water.     17*.  b.  eer  else. 
19'.  b,  o.  as  white.     19*.  b.  princess's. 
20^  b,  c.  him  on.     20'.  a.  thee. 
20*.  a.  love  lodely:  b.  keep  them  on  a  love 

lovely :  C.  love  lovely. 
21^  b,  c.  child  said. 
21'.  a,  b,  c.  poor  dost  thou  wear.      A.  dis- 

aware. 
22'.  b,  o.  sir  wanting. 
22*,  24*,  25',  30*.   a,  b,  o.  love  lovely.    A. 

lonelye  lee.     Perhaps,  lone,  lone,  lee. 
23*.  b,  o.  in  the. 
24*.  a.  wise,    b,  c.  bespoke. 


L^  i^ 


58 


272.    THE  SUFFOLK  MIRACLE 


24^.  c.  thee  sheep,     b.  to  field. 

24*.  a,  c.  And  get.     b.  keep. 

25^  b,  o.  talking.     25*.  c.  we  will. 

26^.  b.  a  lord,    b,  c.  have  seemd. 

27*.  o.  himself.     27*.  b,  c.  he  should. 

28''.  b,  c.  were.     28*.  b.   you  will. 

28*.  b,  c.  pounds.     29'.  b,  c.  an. 

SO'^.  a,  c.  Feansell.     b.  feanser. 

30*.  b,  o.  aware. 

31^.  b.  And  often :  made  great  moan. 

31*.  o.  what  is. 

32^  b,  c.  unto  her  maid  anon. 

33^'*.  a,  b,  c.     Two  lines  wanting. 

34^  b.  wast  born.     c.  wast  thou  born. 

35^.  b.  to  wanting.    35*.  c.  the  wanting. 

35*.  b,  c.  he  is. 

36^.  a.  foorsooth.     c.  forsooth  saith  the. 

37*.  c.  the  wanting. 

38^^.  b,  o.  bewailed,     c.  villaniously. 

38*.  b,  o.  vagabond. 

39^.  a,  b,  c.  Ha  down,     b,  c.  gay  wanting. 

40^  a.  stewardly.    41^  c.  than. 


42*.  b.  the  Lord.     c.  young  D. 

42*.  b,  c.  think  no  good.    b.  of  me  nor  thee. 

43^  b.  had  wanting.    43^.  b.  in  the. 

43*.  b,  o.  stable. 

44*.  a,  c.  become,    b.  became. 

45^  a.  may.    b,  c.  might. 

45*.  b,  c.  great  wanting,    b.  his  heel. 

46^.  a.  thou  horse,     b.  thee.     o.  the. 

46*^.  b,  o,  ever.     47^.  a,  c.  D.  daughter. 

49^  a.  Mell :  lonny.     49*.  b,  o.  wept  most. 

SO*-*,  51^-2.  b,  c.   Wanting. 

62^  b,  o.  she  wanting :  letter  then. 

52*.  a.  dwells,    b,  o.  dwelt. 

54*.  b.  unto. 

55*.  b.  aware.     56*.  c.  maketh. 

57^  b,  c.  quoth  the.     59*.  b.  they  wanting. 

60*.  a.  more,    b,  o.  mo.     61*.  b,  c.  than. 

62*.  b,  c.  delicate,  dilicate. 

63.  a.  Before  63 :  Such  a  banquet  there  was 

wrought,  the  like  was  seen  I  say. 
64^.  a.  fet.    b,  c.  set. 
65^  b,  c.  how  troubles.    65*.  b,  c.  amongst. 


272 

THE  SUFFOLK  MIRACLE 

*  The  Suffolk  Miracle.'    a.  Wood,  E.  25,  fol.  83.    b.  Roxburghe,  11,  240;    Moore's  Pictorial  Book  of  Ancient 

Ballad  Poetry,  p.  463. 


Also  Pepys,  III,  382,  No  328  ;  Crawford, 
No  1863 ;  Old  Ballads,  1728, 1,  266. 

A  young  man  loved  a  farmer's  daughter, 
and  his  love  was  returned.  The  girl's  father 
sent  her  to  his  brother's,  forty  miles  off,  to 
stay  till  she  should  change  her  mind.  The 
man  died.  A  month  after,  he  appeared  at  the 
uncle's  at  midnight,  and,  as  he  came  on  her 
father's  horse  and  brought  with  him  her 
mother's  travelling  gear,  he  was  allowed  to 
take  the  girl  away  with  him.  As  they  rode, 
he  complained  of  headache,  and  the  girl  bound 
her  handkerchief  about  his  head ;  he  was  cold 
as  clay..  In  two  hours  they  were  at  her  fa- 
ther's door.    The  man  went  to  put  up  the 


horse,  as  he  said,  but  no  more  was  seen  of  him. 
The  girl  knocked,  and  her  father  came  down, 
much  astonished  to  see  her,  and  still  more  as- 
tonished when  she  asked  if  her  lover,  known 
by  the  father  to  be  dead,  had  not  been  sent 
to  bring  her.  The  father  went  to  the  stable, 
where  the  girl  said  the  man  would  be ;  there 
was  nobody  there,  but  the  horse  was  found 
to  be  '  all  on  a  sweat.'  After  conferences,  the 
grave  was  opened,  and  the  kerchief  was  found 
about  the  head  of  the  mouldering  body.  This 
was  told  to  the  girl,  and  she  died  shortly  after. 
This  piece  could  not  be  admitted  here  on 
its  own  merits.  At  the  first  look,  it  would  be 
classed  with  the  vulgar  prodigies  printed  for 


272.    THE  SUFFOLK  MIRACLE 


59 


hawkers  to  sell  and  for  Mopsa  and  Dorcas  to 
buy.     It  is  not  even  a  good  specimen  of  its 
/  kind.     Ghosts  should  have  a  fair  reason  for 
walking,  and  a  quite  particular  reason  for  rid- 
ing.    In  popular  fictions,  the  motive  for  their 
,  leaving  the  grave  is  to  ask  back  plighted  troth, 
'  to  be  relieved  from  the  inconveniences  caused 
by  the  excessive  grief  of  the  living,  to  put  a 
stop  to  the  abuse  of  children  by  stepmothers, 
to  repair  an  injustice  done  in  the  flesh,  to  fulfil 
a  promise ;  at  the  least,  to  announce  the  vis- 
itant's death.     One  would  not  be  captious 
with  the  restlessness  of  defeated  love,  but 
what  object  is  there  in  this  young  man's  rising 
from  the  grave  to  take  his  love  from  her  un- 
cle's to  her  father's  house  ?    And  what  sense 
*  is  there  in  his  headache  ? 

I  have  printed  this  ballad  because,  in  a 
blurred,  enfeebled,  and  disfigured  shape,  it  is 
the  representative  in  England  of  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  tales  and  one  of  the  most 
impressive  and  beautiful  ballads  of  the  Euro- 
pean continent.  The  relationship  is  put  be- 
yond doubt  by  the  existence  of  a  story  in 
Cornwall  which  comes  much  nearer  to  the 
Continental  tale.* 

Long,  long  ago,  Frank,  a  farmer's  son,  was 
in  love  with  Nancy,  a  very  attractive  girl, 
who  lived  in  the  condition  of  a  superior  ser- 
vant in  his  mother's  house.  Frank's  parents 
opposed  their  matching,  and  sent  the  girl 
home  to  her  mother ;  but  the  young  pair  con- 
tinued to  meet,  and  they  bound  themselves  to 
each  other  for  life  or  for  death.  To  part  them 
effectually,  Frank  was  shipped  for  an  India 
voyage.  He  could  not  write,  and  nothing  was 
heard  of  him  for  nearly  three  years.  On 
AU-hallows-Eve  Nancy  went  out  with  two 
companions  to  sow  hemp-seed.  Nancy  began 
the  rite,  saying : 

Hemp-seed,  I  sow  thee, 

Hemp-seed,  grow  thee ! 

And  he  who  will  my  true-love  be 

Come  after  me 

And  shaw  thee. 

*  Mr  W.  E.  A.  Axon,  in  his  Lancashire  Gleanings,  p.  261, 
speaks  of  the  story  of  the  Spectre  Bridegroom  as  having 
heen  current  in  the  neighborhood  of  Liverpool  in  the  last 
century,  both  in  an  oral  and  a  printed  form.  But  it  is  plain 
that  what  was  current,  either  way,  was  simply '  The  Suffolk 
Miracle.'  Of  this  I  have  a  copy  learned  in  the  north  of  Ire- 


This  she  said  three  times,  and  then,  looking 
back  over  her  left  shoulder,  she  saw  Frank 
indeed,  but  he  looked  so  angry  that  she 
shrieked,  and  so  broke  the  spell.  One  night 
in  November  a  ship  was  wrecked  on  the  coast, 
and  Frank  was  cast  ashore,  with  just  enough 
life  in  him  to  ask  that  he  might  be  married 
to  Nancy  before  he  died,  a  wish  which  was 
not  to  be  fulfilled.  On  the  night  of  his  fu- 
neral, as  Nancy  was  about  to  lock  the  house- 
door,  a  horseman  rode  up.  His  face  was 
deadly  pale,  but  Nancy  knew  him  to  be  her 
lover.  He  told  her  that  he  had  just  arrived 
home,  and  had  come  to  fetch  her  and  make 
her  his  bride.  Nancy  was  easily  induced  to 
spring  on  the  horse  behind  him.  When  she 
clasped  Frank's  waist,  her  arm  became  stiff  as 
ice.  The  horse  went  at  a  furious  pace ;  the 
moon  came  out  in  full  splendor.  Nancy  saw 
that  the  rider  was  in  grave-clothes.  She  had 
lost  the  power  of  speech,  but,  passing  a  black- 
smith's shop,  where  the  smith  was  still  at 
work,  she  recovered  voice  and  cried.  Save  me ! 
with  all  her  might.  The  smith  ran  out  with 
a  hot  iron  in  his  hand,  and,  as  the  horse  was 
rushing  by,  caught  the  girl's  dress  and  pulled 
her  to  the  ground.  But  the  rider  held  on  to 
the  gown,  and  both  Nancy  and  the  smith  were 
dragged  on  till  they  came  near  the  church- 
yard. There  the  horse  stopped  for  a  moment, 
and  the  smith  seized  his  chance  to  bum  away 
the  gown  with  his  iron  and  free  the  girl.  The 
horseman  passed  over  the  wall  of  the  church- 
yard, and  vanished  at  the  grave  in  which  the 
young  man  had  been  laid  a  few  hours  before. 
A  piece  of  Nancy's  dress  was  found  on  the 
grave.  Nancy  died  before  morning.  It  was 
said  that  one  or  two  of  the  sailors  who  sur- 
vived the  wreck  testified  that  Frank,  on  Hal- 
loween, was  like  one  mad,  and,  after  great 
excitement,  lay  for  hours  as  if  dead,  and  that 
when  he  came  to  himself  he  declared  that  if 
he  ever  married  the  woman  who  had  cast  the 
spell,  he  would  make  her  suffer  for  drawing 
his  soul  out  of  his  body.f 

land  in  1850  (and  very  much  changed  as  to  form),  in  which 
the  scene  is  laid  "  between  Armagh  and  County  Clare." 

t  Popular  Romances  of  the  "West  of  England,  collected 
and  edited  by  Robert  Hunt,  First  Series,  pp.  265-72,  dating 
from  about  1830. 


60 


272.    THE  SUFFOLK   MIRACLE 


1^^  A  tale  of  a  dead  man  coming  on  horseback 

to  his  inconsolable  love,  and  carrying  her  to 
his  grave,  is  widely  spread  among  the  Slavic 
\c  people  (with  whom  it  seems  to  have  origi- 
nated) and  the  Austrian  Germans,  was  well 
known  a  century  ago  among  the  northern 
Germans,  and  has  lately  been  recovered  in 
the  Netherlands,  Denmark,  Iceland,  and  Brit- 
tany. Besides*  the  tale  in  its  integrity,  cer- 
tain verses  which  occur  in  it,  and  which  are 
of  a  kind  sure  to  impress  the  memory,  are 
very  frequent,  and  these  give  evidence  of  a 
very  extensive  distribution.  The  verses  are 
to  this  effect : 

The  moon  shines  bright  in  the  lift, 
The  dead,  they  ride  so  swift, 
Love,  axt  thou  not  afraid  ? 

to  which  the  lovelorn  maid  answers. 

How  fear,  when  I  am  with  thee  ?  * 

There  are  also  ballads  with  the  same  story, 
one  in  German,  several  in  Slavic,  but  these 
have  not  so  original  a  stamp  as  the  tale,  and 
have  perhaps  sprung  from  it. 

The  following  will  serve  as  specimens  of 
the  tale  in  question ;  many  more  may  certainly 
be  recovered : 

Great  Russian.  1-6,  Sozonovid,  Appen- 
dix, Nos  1,  2,  7,  8,  9.t  Little  Russian.  6-8, 
Trudy,  II,  411,  413,  414,  Nos  119-21 ;  9, 
Dragomanof,  p.  392  ;  10-15,  Sozonovi^,  Ap- 
pendix, Nos  4-6,  10-12 ;  16,  Bugiel,  in  the 
Slavic  Archiv,  XIV,  146.  White  Russian. 
17,  18,  Sozonovi6,  Appendix,  No  3 ;  Dobro- 
volskij.  Ethnographical  Collection  from  Smo- 
lensk, p.  126,  No  58.  Servian.  19,  Krauss, 
in  Wisla,  IV,  667.     Croat.     20,  21,  Strohal, 

*  A  portion  (or  portions)  of  a  Low  German  tale  of  this 
class,  the  verses  and  a  little  more,  was  the  basis  of  Biirger's 
'  Lenore,'  composed  in  1773.  (As  to  the  particulars  of  the 
traditional  basis,  Erich  Schmidt  seems  to  me  undoubtedly 
right:  Charakteristiken,  p.  219  f.)  At  the  end  of  the  last 
century,  when  'Lenore'  became  well  known  in  England 
through  half  a  dozen  translations,  it  was  maintained  that 
Biirger  had  taken  the  idea  of  his  ballad  from  '  The  Suffolk 
Miracle,'  with  which  he  was  supposed  to  have  become  ac- 
quainted through  the  copy  in  Old  Ballads,  1723.  See  The 
Monthly  Maga2dne,  1796,  II,  603.  But  it  is  nearly  certain 
that  Biirger  had  not  seen,  and  never  saw,  the  "  Old  Ballads  " 
of  1723.  In  1777  Boie  made  him  acquainted  with  a  book 
of  that  title,  but  this  was  in  all  probability  Evans's  first  col- 


pp.  114,  115,  Nos  20,  21.  Croat-Slovenian. 
22-24,  Valjavec,  Narodne  Pripovjedke,  p. 
239;  Plohl-Herdvigov,  I,  127,  129.  Slove- 
nian. 25,  26,  Krek,  in  the  Slavic  Archiv,  X, 
357,  358.  Polish.  27,  Zamarski,  p.  121; 
28,  Grudzinski,  p.  15 ;  29,  Lach-Szyrma,  Pa- 
mi^tnik  Naukowy,  1819,  I,  358  ;  30,  Kolberg, 
Lud,  XIV,  181 ;  31,  Treichel,  in  Zeitschrift 
f iir  Volkskunde,  II,  144 ;  32,  Chetchowski,  II, 
40-42,  No  59;  33,  Siarkowski,  in  Zbi6r  wia- 
domosci  do  antropologii  krajow^j,  III,  III  (21). 
Bohemian.  34,  Sumlork,  I,  608 ;  35,  Erben, 
Kytice  z  bdsnl,  p.  23  (ballad  founded  on  tale). 
Slovak.  36,  Dobsinsky,  pp.  23-30  (three 
versions).  Wendish.  37,  Schulenburg,  Wen- 
dische  Volkssagen,  p.  137  (fragment).  Lith- 
uanian. 38,  Leskien  u.  Brugman,  p.  160, 
No  2,  p.  497,  No  43.  Magyar.  39,  Pap, 
Pal6c  Ndpkoltem^nyek,  p.  94,  also  Arany 
and  Gyulai,  I,  207,  No  52,  and  569,  Aigner, 
m  Gegenwart,  1875,  No  12.  Gypsy.  40, 
Wlislocki,  Volksdichtungen  der  siebenbiir- 
gischen  u.  siidungarischen  Zigeuner,  p.  283, 
No  43.  German,  High  and  Low.  41,  Sztodola, 
in  Herrmann,  Ethnologische  Mittheilungen 
aus  Ungam.  col.  341  f.  (Ofen) ;  42-45,  Ver- 
naleken,  Mythen  u.  Brauche  des  Volkes  in 
Oesterreich,  pp.  76  f.,  79  f.,  Nos  6-9  (Lower 
Austria)  ;  46-48,  A.  Baumgarten,  Aus  der 
volksmassigen  Ueberlieferung  der  Heimat 
(Geburt,  Heirat,  Tod),  pp.  135,  136,  136  f. 
(Upper  Austria)  ;  49,  Boeckel,  in  Germania, 
XXXI,  117  (Baden)  ;  50,  51,  Jahn,  Volks- 
sagen aus  Pommern  u.  Riigen,  pp.  404,  406, 
No  515,  I,  n;  52,  J.  F.  Cordes,  in  The 
Monthly  Magazine,  1799,  VIII,  602  f.  (Glan- 
dorf,  Lower  Saxony)  ;  53,  Miillenhof,  Sagen, 
etc.,  p.  164,  No  224  (Ditmarsch).  Nether- 
lection,  which  appeared  in  that  year.  See  Strodtmann, 
Briefe  von  und  an  G.  A.  Biirger,  II,  85,  87.  Biirger  knew 
'  Sweet  William's  Ghost '  from  Percy's  Keliques,  and  took 
a  hint  or  two  from  that,  besides  the  lover's  name. 

t  I.  Sozonovi6,  Biirger's  '  I^enore,'  and  the  related  matter 
in  European  and  Kussian  popular  poetry,  Warsaw,  1893 
(in  Bussian).  Professor  Wollner  has  furnished  me  transla- 
tions of  some  twenty-five  pieces  in  Sozonovic.  See,  for  Ger- 
man versions  of  many  of  the  Slavic  tales  and  ballads,  Woll- 
ner, in  Archiv  f iir  slavische  Philologie,  VI,  243-59 ;  Krek,  in 
the  same,  X,  357-59,  and  in  Magazin  fiir  die  Litteratur  des 
In-  u.  Auslandes,  1887,  CXII,  629-32,  650-54  ;  Grudziiski, 
Lenore  in  Polen,  1890,  p.  13  fF. ;  Treichel,  in  Zeitschrift  fiir 
Volkakunde,  II,  144. 


272.    THE  SUFFOLK   MIRACLE 


61 


landish.  54-56,  Pol  de  Mont,  in  Volkskunde, 
II,  129-31.  Danish.  57,  Grundtvig,  Dan- 
marks  g.  Folkeviser,  III,  873.  Icelandic.  58, 
Arnason,  Islenzkar  J)j63sogur,  I,  280  ff.  ; 
Maurer,  Islandische  Volkssagen,  p.  73  f. 

A  lover,  who  has  long  been  unheard  of,  but 
whose  death  has  not  been  ascertained,  roused 
from  his  last  sleep  by  the  grief  of  his  mistress 
(which  in  some  cases  drives  her  to  seek  or  ac- 
cept the  aid  of  a  spell),  comes  to  her  by  night 
on  horseback  and  induces  her  to  mount  behind 
him.  As  they  ride,  he  says  several  times  to 
her.  The  moon  shines  bright,  the  dead  ride 
swift,  art  not  afraid?  Believing  him  to  be 
living,  the  maid  protests  that  she  feels  no  fear, 
but  at  last  becomes  alarmed.  He  takes  her 
to  his  burial-place,  and  tries  to  drag  her  into 
his  grave ;  she  escapes,  and  takes  refuge  in 
a  dead-house  (or  house  where  a  dead  man  is 
/  lying).  The  lover  pursues,  and  calls  upon 
the  dead  man  within  the  house  to  give  her  up, 
which  in  most  cases,  for  fellowship,  he  pre- 
pares to  do.  At  the  critical  moment  a  cock 
crows,  and  the  maid  is  saved. 

Some  of  the  tales  are  brief  and  defective, 
some  mixed  with  foreign  matter.  The  pre- 
dominant traits,  with  a  few  details  and  varia- 
tions, may  be  briefly  exhibited  by  a  synoptical 
analysis. 

A  pair  of  lovers  are  plighted  to  belong 
to  each  other  in  life  and  death,  50,  51,  57  ; 
whichever  dies  first  is  to  visit  the  other,  48 ; 
the  man,  at  parting,  promises  to  come  back, 
alive  or  dead,  25,  26.  The  man  dies  in  war, 
1,  2,  10,  14,  15,  17,  20-22,  25-29,  31,  32,  36, 
39, 42,  45-52  ;  the  maid,  her  lover  not  return- 
ing, grieves  incessantly,  4,  6-13,  15-18,  28, 
29,  32,  49,  53.  (The  return  of  the  lover  is 
enforced  by  a  spell,  recommended  or  con- 
ducted by  an  old  woman,  22,  28,  36,  39,  41, 
45,  advised  by  a  priest,  20,  21,  worked  by 
the  maid,  33 ;  a  dead  man's  head,  bones, 
carcass,  boiled  in  a  pot,  15-17,  20,  21,  22, 
27,  39,  a  piece  of  the  man's  clothing,  28,  a 
cat  burned  in  a  red-hot  oven,  33.)  The 
man  comes  on  horseback,  mostly  at  night; 
she  mounts  with  him,  1-5,  8-12,  14-23,  25- 
32,  36-44,  46,  48-53,  56-58,  taking  with  her 
a  bundle  of  clothes,  smocks,  etc.,  1,  6,  7,  9, 16, 


17,  21,  23,  24,  26,  32,  35,  36,  38.  (There 
are  two  horses,  45 ;  they  go  off  in  coach  or 
wagon,  6,  7,  13,  24,  33  ;  stag  for  horse,  47  ; 
afoot,  35,  54.)  As  they  go,  the  man  says  or 
sings  once  or  more,  The  moon  shines  bright, 
the  dead  ride  fast,  art  thou  afraid  ?  and  she 
answers  that  with  him  she  has  no  fear.  The 
verses  occur  in  some  form  in  all  copies  but  2,  / 
3,  9,  11,  13,  15,  29,  32,  33,  38,  40,  51,  and  ^ 
are  mostly  well  preserved.  (It  is  a  voice  from 
the  churchyard  in  38.) 

Arrived  at  a  grave  in  a  churchyard,  the 
man  bids  the  maid  to  go  in,  2,  4-6,  8,  10-17, 
20,  21,  23,  24,  26,  32,  36,  39  ;  she  says.  You 
first,  2,  4-6,  8,  11-17,  23,  24,  32,  36,  39 ;  she 
will  first  throw  him  her  things,  and  then  come, 
14 ;  she  throws  in  her  bundle  of  things,  1, 5,  23, 
24,  26,  32,  36  ;  hands  them  to  him  one  after 
another,  6,  7,  16,  17 ;  tells  him  to  take  her  by 
the  hands,  and  reaches  out  to  him  the  sleeves 
of  her  gown,  2,  12 ;  gives  him  the  end  of  a 
piece  of  linen  or  of  a  ball  of  thread  to  pull 
at,  16,  19 ;  asks  him  to  spread  her  kerchief 
in  the  grave  to  make  the  frozen  ground  softer, 
27,  all  this  to  gain  time.  He  tears  her  things 
in  the  grave,  9,  13,  24  ;  he  seizes  her  apron, 
clutches  her  clothes,  to  drag  her  in,  4,  8,  21, 
22,  25,  43,  44,  47,  48  (in  4  she  cuts  the  apron 
in  two,  in  8  tears  her  gown  off,  in  25,  43,  44, 
48,  her  apron  parts)  ;  she  runs  off,  1-9,  11, 
13-17,  20-27, 29, 30,  35,  36,  38,  39, 41,  45, 46, 
48,  50  ;  she  throws  down  articles  of  dress  to 
delay  his  pursuit,  he  tears  them,  9, 13, 18,  38. 

The  maid  takes  refuge  in  a  dead-house  (or 
house  in  which  there  is  a  dead  body,  or  two, 
or  three),  1-4,  6,  8,  11-15,  17,  18,  20-22, 
24-27,  29,  30,  32,  34-36,  38,  39,  41,  45,  46 
(malt-kiln,  5,  house  of  vampire,  16).  She 
climbs  on  to  the  stove,  or  hides  behind  it, 
6-8,  11,  13-16,  21,  24,  26,  32,  34,  36,  39,  41. 
The  dead  lover  calls  to  the  dead  in  the 
house  to  open,  hand  her  out,  4,  6,  8,  11,  17, 
20-22,  25,  26,  27,  29,  30,  32,  35,  36,  38,  39, 
41,  45,  46,  48,  50,  57  (to  seize  the  girl,  11 ;  to 
tear  her  to  pieces,  24)  ;  the  dead  man  within 
is  disposed  to  help  his  comrade,  makes  an 
effort  so  to  do,  11,  29,  34,  41,  45,  46  ;  opens 
the  door,  6,  21,  36,  39  ;  is  prevented  from 
helping  because  the  maid  has  laid  her  cross,     ^ 


62 


272.    THE  SUFFOLK  MIRACLE 


scapular,  on  his  coflSn,  4,  17  ;  (two  dead,  be- 
cause she  has  laid  her  rosary  on  the  feet  of 
one,  her  prayer-book  on  the  feet  of  the  other, 
32 ;)  the  maid  throws  at  him  beads  from  her 
rosary,  which  check  his  movements  until  the 
string  is  exhausted ;  the  maid  puts  up  three 
effectual  prayers,  35  ;  Ave  sounds,  48 ;  by 
the  maid's  engaging  his  attention  with  a 
long  tale,  38 ;  because  his  wife  or  a  watcher 
knocks  him  on  the  head,  and  orders  him  to 
lie  where  he  is,  20,  30  ;  because  his  wife  has 
turned  him  over  on  his  face,  67.  In  a  few 
cases  the  dead  man  within  inclines  to  protect 
the  maid,  1,  22,  25  ;  the  two  get  into  a  fight, 
1,  13-15,  17,  26,  36  (quarrel,  7).  The  cock 
crows,  and  the  dead  fall  powerless,  return  to 
their  places,  turn  to  pitch,  vanish,  1,  2,  3,  5, 
8,  10,  11,  13-15,  17,  24,  26,  27,  29,  30,  32, 
34-36,  39,  41,  45,  46,  and  the  maid  is  saved.* 

In  some  of  the  tales  of  this  section  the 
maid  is  not  so  fortunate  :  in  6,  the  two  dead 
take  her  by  the  legs  and  tear  her  asunder ; 
in  21,  the  lover  tears  her,  the  dead  man  in 
the  house  having  surrendered  her.  In  39,  the 
lover,  having  been  let  in,  says  to  the  other 
dead  man.  Let  us  tear  her  to  pieces,  and  is 
proceeding  to  do  so,  but  is  stopped  by  the 
cock.  She  dies  of  shock,  or  after  a  few  days, 
8, 11,  13,  16,  17,  29,  31,  32,  36. 

The  maid's  escape  assured,  in  one  way  or  an- 
other, the  man  calls  to  her.  Your  good  luck  : 
v/  I  would  have  taught  you  to  weep  for  the  dead 
(he  had  been  tearing  her  things  in  the  grave, 
and  her  shift,  which  she  had  dropped  to  de- 
lay his  pursuit),  9.  Your  body  would  have 
been  rent  into  as  many  bits  as  your  smocks 
(a  bit  was  found  on  every  grave  in  the  church- 
yard), 22,  35.  I  would  have  torn  you  into 
a  thousand  tatters.  I  was  all  but  saved,  and 
have  had  to  come  so  far  !  Then  he  warned 
her  never  again  to  long  for  the  dead,  42.  I 
would  have  taught  you  to  disturb  the  dead, 
41.  It  was  her  luck,  for  she  would  have  been 
torn  into  a  thousand  bits,  like  her  apron.    Let 

*  30,  31,  32,  50,  have  curious  popular  traits.  In  30,  32, 
the  dead  man  (men)  within  being  unable  to  render  aid,  the 
lover  calls  to  yarn  spun  on  Thursday  (on  Thursday  after 
the  evening  meal)  to  open.  A  watchman  tells  the  yam  to 
stay  where  it  was  hanged ;  the  girl  cuts  the  skein  in  two 
with  an  axe.    In  31  there  is  no  corpse  in  the  house;  the 


this  be  a  warning  to  you,  says  Our  Lady  to 
the  girl,  never  to  mourn  so  much  again  for 
the  dead,  for  he  had  a  hard  journey  to  make, 

43.  He  tore  a  portion  of  her  gown  into  a 
thousand  pieces,  and  laid  one  on  every  grave, 
saying.  You  were  not  so  much  a  simpleton 
to  mourn  for  me  as  I  was  not  to  tear  you  to 
pieces,  30.  There  was  on  every  grave  a  bit 
of  her  gown,  from  which  we  may  see  how  it 
would  have  fared  with  her,  31. 

Resentment  for  the  disturbance  caused  by  / 
the  maid's  excessive  grief  is  expressed  also 
in  6,  Since  you  have  wept  so  much  for  me, 
creep  into  my  grave ;  in  12,  she  has  troubled 
him  by  her  perpetual  weeping,  he  will  take 
her  where  he  dwells ;  in  20,  Another  time 
do  not  long  for  my  dead  body ;  in  27,  You 
have  mourned  for  me,  now  sleep  with  me ;  in 
32,  the  maid's  continual  weeping  is  a  burden 
to  her  lover  in  his  grave.  In  40,  the  remon- 
strance is  affectionate  and  like  (suspiciously 
like)  that  of  Helgi  and  of  Sir  Aage  (II,  235). 

In  some  copies  the  story  closes  at  the  grave, 
2, 10,  19,  23,  28,  40,  43,  44,  47,  49,  51,  52, 
54,  56,  58 ;  many  of  these,  however,  are  brief 
and  defective.  The  man  lays  himself  in  the 
grave,  which  closes,  she  flies,  23 ;  he  descends 
into  the  grave  and  tries  to  draw  her  in  by  her 
apron,  the  apron  tears,  she  faints,  and  is  found 
lying  on  the  ground  the  next  morning,  43  ; 
he  descends  into  the  grave  and  tries  to  draw 
her  after  him,  she  resists,  the  grave  closes, 
and  she  remains  without,  47  ;  he  disappears, 
she  is  left  alone,  49,  52.  She  goes  into  the 
grave,  remains  there,  and  dies,  10 ;  the  grave 
opens,  he  pushes  or  drags  her  in,  54;  both 
disappear  in  the  grave,  56 ;  the  horse  rushes 
three  times  round  in  a  ring,  and  they  are 
nowhere,  53 ;  she  is  killed  by  the  man,  her 
flesh  torn  off,  and  her  bones  broken,  51. 

The  maid  finds  herself  in  a  strange  land, 

44,  47 ;  she  is  among  people  of  different  lan- 
guage, 26,  28,  29,  45 ;  nobody  knows  of  the 
place  which  she  says  she  came  from,  27 ;  she 

lover  calls  on  a  ball  of  thread  and  a  broom, '  ohne  Seele  * 
(with  no  centre-piece,  no  handle)  to  open.  In  50  the  dead 
man  within  cannot  help  the  man  without  because  a  broom  is 
standing  on  its  handle ;  so  the  man  without  calls  on  a  skein 
of  yarn,  a  pot-hook,  a  ball  of  thread,  to  open.  For  various 
reasons  these  appeals  prove  bootless. 


272.    THE  SUFFOLK  MIRACLE 


63 


is  a  long  time  in  getting  home,  and  nobody 
knows  her  then,  25;  she  is  years  in  going 
home  (from  two  to  nine),  20,  22,  28,  46. 
The  man  and  woman  are  a  married  pair  in 

2,  3,  23,  44,  45 ;  in  44,  the  woman  has  mar- 
ried a  second  time,  contrary  to  a  mutual  agree- 
ment. 10, 12, 16, 18, 19,  have  a  taint  of  vam- 
pirism, and  in  2  a  stake  is  driven  through 
the  body  of  the  man  after  he  has  returned  to 

)  his  grave,  as  was  done  with  vampires. 

In  31,  the  maid  throws  herself  from  the 
horse,  the  man,  holding  to  her  gown,  tears  o£E 
a  large  piece  of  it,  and  bits  of  the  gown  are 
found  on  every  grave  the  next  day  ;  so  in  the 
Cornish  tale,  when  the  maid  is  pulled  from 
the  horse,  the  man  retains  a  portion  of  her 
gown,  and  a  piece  is  found  on  his  grave.  In 
27,  the  maid's  kerchief  is  found  in  the  man's 
grave,  and  serves  to  corroborate  her  story ;  so 
in  the  Suffolk  tale,  with  the  handkerchief 
which  the  maid  had  bound  round  the  man's 
head.  55,  a  brief  and  corrupted  copy,  com- 
pares very  well  with  the  Suffolk  tale  for 
pointlessness.  The  man  comes  on  his  father's 
horse,  takes  the  girl  on,  and  rides  with  her 
all  round  the  village.  Towards  morning  he 
brings  the  maid  back  to  her  chamber,  and  the 
horse  to  the  stable,  and  goes  where  he  came 

.     from. 

'■^       Ballads.     Little  Russian.     1,  2,   Golova- 
tsky,  I,  83,  No  40 ;  II,  708,  No  12.   Slovenian. 

3,  Valjavec,  as  before,  preface,  p.  IV.  Po- 
lish. 4,  Grudzifiski,  p.  25,  'Helene,'  Gali- 
cia;  6,  Max  Waldau  (G.  v.  Hauenschild) 
in  Deutsches  Museum,  1851,  I,  136,  No  5, 
Kreis  Ratibor,  Oberschlesien  ;  6,  Mickiewicz, 
*Ucieczka'  (Works,  Paris,  1880,  I,  74), 
based  on  a  ballad  sung  in  Polish  in  Lithuania. 
Bohemian,  Moravian.  7,  Erben,  1864,  p. 
471;  8,  BartoS,  1882,  p.  150;  9,  10,  SuSil, 
p.  791,  p.  Ill,  No  112.  Gypsy.  11,  Wlis- 
locki,  as  before,  p.  104,  South  Hungary. 
Gterman.  12,  Schroer,  Ein  Ausflug  nach  Gott- 
schee,  Wiener  Akademie,  Sitzb.  d.  phil.-hist. 
Classe,  LX,  235.* 

*  For  Grerman  versions  of  most  of  the  Slavic  pieces,  Grud- 
zinski,  aa  before,  p.  27  ;  Wollner,  as  before,  pp.  250,  255  f,, 
258 ;  Krek,  as  before,  p.  652.  7  also  in  A.  Waldau's  Boh- 
mische  Granaten,  II,  254,  No  354. 

'Lenore  '  in  Wunderhorn,  11,  19,  1808,  is  to  be  rejected 
as  spurious,  on  internal  and  external  evidence.    See  Froble, 


As  I  have  already  said,  the  ballads  seem 
less  original  than  the  tales ;  that  is,  to  have 
been  made  from  tales,  as  '  The  Suffolk  Mira- 
cle '  was.  5,  7, 10,  are  of  the  vulgar  sort,  like 
the  English  piece,  7  having  perhaps  received 
literary  touches.  In  none  of  them  does  the 
maid  fly  and  the  man  pursue  ;  the  catastrophe 
is  at  the  grave. 

The  lovers  have  sworn  mutual  faith,  5,  10 ; 
the  maid  wishes  that  the  man  may  come  back, 
dead  or  living,  3,  10,  12 ;  even  from  hell,  6. 

The  man  has  fallen  in  war,  1,  2,  6,  7,  8,  9, 
12. 

A  speU  is  employed  to  bring  him  back,  1, 
2,  6,  9. 

He  comes  on  a  horse,  3,  4,  6-8, 11,  12 ;  in 
a  wagon,  5,  10  ;  on  foot,  1,  2,  9. 

The  verses  found  in  the  tales  occur  in  3 
(three  times),  4,  5,  6,  12  ;  in  10,  a  voice  from 
the  clouds  cries,  What  hast  thou  done,  to  be 
going  off  with  a  dead  man  ? 

She  is  taken  to  a  graveyard.  The  grave 
closes  over  the  man,  she  is  left  without,  3,  5, 
8,  10,  12 ;  both  go  into  the  grave,  4,  6,  7,  11. 

She  breathes  out  her  soul  on  the  grave,  3 ; 
she  finds  herself  in  the  morning  in  a  strange 
land,  of  different  speech,  is  seven  years  in 
going  home,  12. 

1,  2,  9,  are  varieties  of  one  ballad.  The 
man  asks  the  maid  to  go  out  with  him  to  the 
dark  wood,  1;  to  the  cherry-tree  (trees),  2,  9. 
After  a  time,  he  tells  her  to  go  back,  he  is  no 
longer  her  lover,  but  a  devil ;  she  turns  to  ^ 
dust,  1 ;  the  cock  crows,  he  tells  her  to  go 
home  and  not  look  round,  to  thank  God  for 
the  cock,  because  he  should  have  cut  off  her 
head,  he  is  no  longer  her  lover  but  a  devil,  2.  ^ 
In  9,  the  man  says  his  head  aches  badly,  for, 
after  mouldering  six  years,  she  had  forced 
him  to  rise  by  her  spell.  The  maid  tells 
her  mother  that  her  lover  is  buried  under  the 
cherry-trees,  mass  is  said  for  him ;  he  returns 
to  give  thanks  for  his  redemption  from  hell.f 

Reverting  now  to  the  English  tales,  we 
perceive  that  the  Cornish  is  a  very  fairly  well- 

6.  A.  Burger,  Sein  Leben  und  seine  Dichtungen,  1856,  p. 
100  f. 

t  In  11  we  have  to  do  with  a  married  pair,  as  in  several 
of  the  tales.  In  tale  44  the  woman  has  been  twice  married, 
and  her  first  husband  conies  for  her. 


64 


272.     THE  SUFFOLK   MIRACLE 


? 


preserved  specimen  of  the  extensive  cycle 
which  has  been  epitomized.  Possibly  the  full 
moonshine  is  a  relic  of  the  weird  verses  which 
occur  in  so  many  copies.  The  hemp-seed  rite 
is  clearly  a  displacement  and  perversion  of 
the  spell  resorted  to  in  five  Slavic  and  two 
German  copies  to  compel  the  return  of  the 
dead  man.  It  has  no  sense  otherwise,  for  the 
maid  did  not  need  to  know  who  was  to  be  her 
lover ;  she  was  already  bound  to  one  for  life 
and  death.  The  ballad  was  made  up  from 
an  imperfect  and  confused  tradition.  In 
pointlessness  and  irrationality  it  easily  finds 
a  parallel  in  the  55th  tale,  as  already  re- 
marked. The  hood  and  safeguard  brought 
by  the  ghost  represent  the  clothes  which  the 
girl  takes  with  her  in  numerous  copies.     Re- 

fmembering  the  9th  ballad,  where  the  revenant 
complains  of  a  headache,  caused  by  the  pow- 
erful enchantment  which  had  been  brought  to 
bear  on  him,  we  may  quite  reasonably  sup- 
pose that  the  headache  in  '  The  Suffolk  Mira- 
cle,' utterly  absurd  to  all  appearance,  was  in 
fact  occasioned  by  a  spell  which  has  dropped 
away  from  the  Suffolk  story,  but  is  retained 
in  the  Cornish. 

M.  Paul  S^billot  has  recently  (in  1879) 
taken  down,  in  that  part  of  Brittany  where 
French  is  exclusively  spoken,  a  tale  which  is 
almost  a  repetition  of  the  English  ballad,  and 
which  for  that  reason  has  been  kept  by  itself, 
'  Les  Deux  Fiances,'  Litt^rature  orale  de  la 
Haute-Bretagne,  p.  197.  A  young  man  and 
a  maid  have  plighted  themselves  to  marry 
and  to  be  faithful  to  one  another  even  after 
death.  The  young  man,  who  is  a  sailor,  goes 
on  a  voyage,  and  dies  without  her  learning 
the  fact.  One  night  he  leaves  his  tomb,  and 
comes  on  a  white  mare,  taken  from  her  father's 
stable,  to  get  the  girl,  who  is  living  at  a 
farm  at  some  distance  from  her  own  home. 
The  girl  mounts  behind  him :  as  they  go  he 
says,  The  moon  is  bright,  death  is  riding  with 
you,  are  you  not  afraid  ?  and  she  answers,  I 
am  not  afraid,  since  you  are  with  me.  He 
complains  of  a  headache  ;  she  ties  her  hand- 
kerchief round  his  head.  They  arrive  at  the 
girl's  home;  she  gets  down  and  knocks.  To 
an  inquiry,  Who  is  there  ?  she  replies,  Your 


/ 


daughter,  whom  you  sent  for  by  my  husband 
that  is  to  be.  I  have  come  on  horseback  with 
him,  and  lent  him  my  handkerchief  on  the 
way,  since  he  had  none.  He  is  now  in  the 
stable  attending  to  the  horse.  They  go  to 
the  stable  and  find  the  mare  in  a  sweat,  but 
no  man.  The  girl  then  understands  that  her 
lover  is  dead,  and  she  dies,  too.  They  open 
the  man's  grave  to  bury  the  two  together, 
and  find  the  girl's  handkerchief  on  his  head. 
This  is  the  English  ballad  over  again,  almost 
word  for  word,  with  the  difference  that  the 
lover  dies  at  sea,  and  that  the  substance  of  the 
notable  verses  is  preserved.  ^, 

In  marked  and  pleasing  contrast  with  most  (I 
of  the  versions  of  the  tale  with  which  we  have 
been  dealing,  in  so  many  copies  grotesque  and 
ferocious,  with  a  lover  who,  from  impulses  not 
always  clear,  from  resentment  sometimes  that 
his  comfort  has  been  disturbed  by  her  unre- 
strained grief,  sometimes  that  she  has  been 
implicated  in  forcing  him  by  magic  to  return 
to  the  world  which  he  had  done  with,  is  bent  : 
on  tearing  his  lass  to  pieces,  is  a  dignified  and  ' 
tender  ballad,  in  which  the  lovers  are  replaced 
by  brother  and  sister.  This  ballad  is  found 
among  the  Servians,  Bulgarians,  Greeks,  and 
Albanians,  and  is  very  common  among  the 
Greeks,  both  of  the  mainland  and  the  islands. 

Servian.  Karadzic,  II,  38,  No  9,  'Yovan 
and  Yelitza;'  Talvj,  Volkslieder  der  Serben, 
1853,  I,  295;  Dozon,  Chansons  p.  bulgares, 
p.  321 ;  Bowring,  Servian  Popular  Poetry,  p. 
45.  Davidovic,  pp.  10-14, '  Yovo  and  Mara,' 
No  7 ;  Krek,  in  Magazin  f .  d.  Litt.  d.  In-  u. 
Auslandes,  p.  652,  No  8. 

Bulgarian.  Dozon,  Chansons  p.  bulgares, 
p.  130,  No  7,  p.  319.  Kacanovskij,  p.  120, 
No  48 ;  Krek  as  above,  p.  653  f.,  No  10, 
'Lazar  and  Yovana.'  Miladinof,  1861,  1891, 
p.  145,  No  100,  '  Lazar  and  Petkana ; '  Krek, 
p.  653,  No  9.  Miladinof,  p.  317,  No  200, 
'  Elin  Doika  ; '  Rosen,  Bulgarische  Volksdich- 
tungen,  p.  247,  No  103.  *Eiin  Doina,'  Po- 
pov, in  PeriodiSesko  Spisanie,  II,  162,  lacks 
the  last  half  ;  Krek,  p.  654,  No  11.  '  Yana,' 
Miladinof,  p.  339,  No  229,  Rosen,  p.  116, 
No  32,  diverges  considerably  from  the  others. 

Bomaic.    Twenty  copies,  including  all  pre- 


273.    THE  SUFFOLK  MIRACLE 


65 


viously  published,  Polites,  in  AcXn'ov  ttJs  larop. 
K.  WvoX.  haip.  T.  'EAAaSos,  II,  193-261,  552-57, 
1885-87.     Kanellakes,  Xiaxa  'AvoXcKra,  p.  37, 

No  27,  p.  58,  No   49,   1890.      Za>ypa(^cros  'AyoJ./, 

I,  308,  No  30,  397,  No  17,  1891.  '  Constan- 
tine  and  Arete  '  (mostly).  C.  B.  Sheridan, 
The  Songs  of  Greece,  p.  207 ;  C.  C.  Felton, 
in  English  and  Scottish  Ballads,  Boston,  1860, 
1, 307 ;  Lucy  M.  J.  Garnett,  Greek  Folk-Songs, 
etc.,  1885,  p.  126. 

Albanian.  (*  Garentina,'  =  Arete.)  De 
Rada,  Rapsodie,  etc.,  p.  29  (I,  xvii)  ;  Dozon, 
Ch.  p.  bulgares,  p.  327,  De  Grazia,  C.  p.  al- 
banesi,  p.  138.  Camarda,  Appendice  al  Sag- 
gio,  etc.,  p.  98  (fragment,  last  half),  p.  102. 
Dora  d'  Istria,  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes, 
LXIII,  407.     La    Calabria,  II,   55,  1890.  — 

Tale,  Metkos,  'AXfiaviKT]  MeXura-a,  p.  189,  No 
12,  translated  in  Dozon,  Contes  albanais,  p. 
251.* 

A  mother  has  nine  sons  and  an  only  daugh- 
ter. The  daughter  is  sought  in  marriage ; 
the  mother  and  eight  of  her  sons  wish  to 
match  her  in  their  neighborhood,  but  the 
youngest  son  (whom  it  will  be  convenient  to 
call  Constantine)  has  his  way,  and  she  is 
given  to  a  suitor  from  a  distant  country  (often 
Babylon).  The  brothers  are  to  visit  their 
sister  often  (Slavic);  Constantine  promises 
to  bring  her  to  his  mother  should  there  be 
special  occasion.  A  fatal  year  comes,  and  all 
the  brothers  die  of  the  plague  (in  a  few  cases 
they  are  killed  in  war).  The  mother  chants 
laments  at  the  graves  of  the  eight,  strews 
flowers,  burns  candles,  gives  alms  for  their 
souls;  at  Constantine's  grave  she  tears  her 
hair.  She  curses  Constantine  for  the  distant 
marriage,  and  demands  of  him  her  daughter. 
God  takes  pity  (on  mother,  sister,  or  son). 
The  stone  over  his  grave  (his  coffin,  a  board 
for  the  grave,  his  shroud,  a  cloud)  is  turned 
into  a  horse ;  he  goes  to  his  sister  and  informs 
her  that  she  is  wanted  by  her  mother.  The 
sister  will  put  on  gold  for  joy  or  black  for 


grief ;  she  is  to  come  as  she  stands.  (He  tries 
to  prevent  her  going,  in  the  Servian  copies, 
where  his  object  is  to  pay  the  promised  visit.) 
On  the  way  the  sister  notes  that  Constantine 
is  gray  with  mould,  he  smells  of  earth,  his 
skin  is  black,  his  eyes  are  dull,  his  hair  is 
dusty,  his  hair  or  teeth  fallen  out ;  why  is 
this  ?  He  has  been  at  work  in  the  ground, 
has  been  building  nine  white  houses,  there 
has  been  dust,  wind,  and  rain  on  the  road,  he 
has  had  long  watches,  sore  sickness.  He 
smells  of  incense,  too  ;  that  is  because  he  has 
been  at  church  lately.  Birds  call  out  in  hu-  \/ 
man  voice  as  they  pass,  What  wonder  is  this, 
the  living  travelling  with  the  dead  !  (Thrice 
in  Romaic,  9,  10,  and  the  Albanian  tale, 
twice  in  Romaic  13.)  The  sister  asks  Con- 
stantine if  he  hears  what  the  birds  are  saying  ; 
he  hears,  they  are  birds,  let  them  talk.  They 
near  their  mother's  house ;  a  church  is  hard 
by.  Constantine  bids  his  sister  go  on ;  he 
must  say  a  prayer  in  the  church,  or  pay  a 
votive  candle,  find  a  ring  which  he  lost 
there,  see  to  his  horse ;  he  disappears.  The 
house  is  locked,  the  windows  shut,  there  is 
every  sign  of  desolation  and  neglect.  The 
daughter  knocks ;  the  mother,  from  within, 
cries,  Avaunt,  Death !  I  have  no  more  chil- 
dren! The  daughter  cries.  It  is  I.f  Who 
brought  you  ?  Constantine.  Constantine  is 
dead ;  (has  been  dead  three  days,  forty  days, 
five  months,  twelve  years  !)  The  mother 
opens,  they  die  in  a  mutual  embrace  (the  mo- 
ther dies,  one  dies  within,  one  without). 

'  Le  Fr^re  de  Lait,'  Villemarqu^,  Barzaz 
Breiz,  No  22,  p.  163,  ed.  1867,  has  no  claim 
to  be  associated  with  these  ballads,  the  only 
feature  in  which  it  has  similarity  not  being 
genuine.  Compare  'La  Femme  aux  deux 
Maris,'  Luzel,  Gwerziou  Breiz-Izel,  I,  266-71, 
two  versions,  and  II,  165-69,  two  more  ;  and 
see  Luzel,  De  I'authenticit^  des  chants  du 
Barzaz-Breiz,  p.  39. 


*  No  filiation  is  implied  in  the  above  arrangement  of  the 
ballads. 


t  The  mother  demands  tokens  of  her  identity,  Romaic 
11, 12  21,  22,  Albanian  4,  5.    Cf.  II,  215. 


66 


272.    THE  SUFFOLK  MIRACLE 


1  A  WONDER  stranger  ne'r  was  known 
Then  what  I  now  shall  treat  upon. 
In  Suffolk  there  did  lately  dwell 

A  farmer  rich  and  known  full  well. 

2  He  had  a  daughter  fair  and  bright, 
On  whom  he  plac'd  his  chief  delight ; 
Her  beauty  was  beyond  compare, 
She  was  both  virtuous  and  fair. 

3  A  young  man  there  was  living  by, 
Who  was  so  charmed  with  her  eye 
That  he  could  never  be  at  rest, 
He  was  with  love  so  much  possest. 

4  He  made  address  to  her,  and  she 
Did  grant  him  love  immediately  ; 
Which  when  her  father  came  to  hear. 
He  parted  her  and  her  poor  dear. 

5  Forty  miles  distant  was  she  sent, 
Unto  his  brother's,  with  intent 
That  she  should  there  so  long  remain 
Till  she  had  chang'd  her  mind  again. 

6  Hereat  this  young  man  sadly  grievd, 
But  knew  not  how  to  be  relievd ; 
He  sighd  and  sobd  continually 
That  his  true  love  he  could  not  see. 

7  She  by  no  means  could  to  him  send 
Who  was  her  heart's  espoused  friend ; 
He  sighd,  she  grievd,  but  all  in  vain, 
For  she  confin'd  must  still  remain. 

8  He  mournd  so  much  that  doctor's  art 
Could  give  no  ease  unto  his  heart ; 
Who  was  so  strang[e]ly  terrified. 
That  in  short  time  for  love  he  dyed. 

9  She  that  from  him  was  sent  away 
Knew  nothing  of  his  dying-day, 
But  constant  still  she  did  remain ; 
To  love  the  dead  was  then  in  vain. 


12  Which  when  her  unckle  understood. 
He  hop't  it  would  be  for  her  good, 

•  And  gave  consent  to  her  straightway 
That  with  him  she  should  come  away. 

13  When  she  was  got  her  love  behind, 
They  passd  as  swift  as  any  wind,       ^ 
That  in  two  hours,  or  little  more, 

He  brought  her  to  her  father's  door. 

14  But  as  they  did  this  great  haste  make, 
He  did  complain  his  head  did  ake ; 
Her  handkerchief  she  then  took  out. 
And  tyed  the  same  his  head  about. 

15  And  unto  him  she  thus  did  say  : 
'  Thou  art  as  cold  as  any  clay ; 

When  we  come  home,  a  fire  wee  '1  have ; ' 
But  little  dreamt  he  went  to  grave. 

16  Soon  were  they  at  her  father's  door. 
And  after  she  ne'r  see  him  more  ; 

'  I  'le  set  the  horse  up,'  then  he  said, 
And  there  he  left  this  harmless  maid. 

17  She  knockt,  and  strait  a  man  he  cryed, 

'  Who  's  there  ? '     "T  is  I,'  she  then  replyed  ; 
Who  wondred  much  her  voice  to  hear. 
And  was  possest  with  dread  and  fear. 

18  Her  father  he  did  tell,  and  then 
He  stared  like  an  affrighted  man  : 
Down  stairs  he  ran,  and  when  he  see  her, 
Cry'd  out.  My  child,  how  cam'st  thou  here  ? 

19  '  Pray,  sir,  did  you  not  send  for  me, 
By  such  a  messenger  ? '   said  she : 
Which  made  his  hair  stare  on  his  head. 
As  knowing  well  th£|^  he  was  dead. 

20  '  Where  is  he  ? '  then  to  her  he  said ; 
'  He  's  in  the  stable,'  quoth  the  maid. 

*  Go  in,'  said  he,  '  and  go  to  bed ; 
I  'le  see  the  horse  well  littered.' 


10  After  he  had  in  grave  been  laid 
A  month  or  more,  unto  this  maid 
He  comes  about  middle  of  the  night, 
Who  joyd  to  see  her  heart's  delight. 

11  Her  father's  horse,  which  well  she  knew, 
Her  mother's  hood  and  safeguard  too. 
He  brought  with  him  to  testifie 

Her  parents'  order  he  came  by. 


21  He  stared  about,  and  there  could  hee 
No  shape  of  any  mankind  see. 

But  found  his  horse  all  on  a  sweat ; 
Which  made  him  in  a  deadly  fret. 

22  His  daughter  he  said  nothing  to. 

Nor  no  one  else,  though  well  they  knew 
That  he  was  dead  a  month  before, 
For  fear  of  grieveing  her  full  sore. 


273.    KING  EDWARD  THE  FOURTH  AND  A  TANNER  OF  TAMWORTH 


67 


23  Her  father  to  his  father  went 
Who  was  deceasd,  with  this  intent, 
To  tell  him  what  his  daughter  said  ; 
So  both  came  back  imto  this  maid. 

24  They  askd  her,  and  she  still  did  say 
'T  was  he  that  then  brought  her  away ; 
Which  when  they  heard  they  were  amaz'd, 
And  on  each  other  strang[e]ly  gaz'd. 

25  A  handkerchief  she  said  she  tyed 
About  his  head,  and  that  they  tryed ; 
The  sexton  they  did  speak  unto, 
That^he  the  grave  would  then  undo. 


26  Affrighted  then  they  did  behold 
His  body  turning  into  mould, 

And  though  he  had  a  month  been  dead, 
This  kercheif  was  about  his  head. 

27  This  thing  unto  her  then  they  told, 
And  the  whole  truth  they  did  unfold  ; 
She  was  thereat  so  terrified 

And  grievd,  she  quickly  after  dyed. 

28  Part  not  true  love,  you  rich  men,  then; 
But,  if  they  be  right  honest  men 

Your  daughters  love,  give  them  their  way. 
For  force  oft  breeds  their  lives'  decay. 


The  Suffolk  Miracle,  or,  A  relation  of  a  young  man 
who  a  month  after  his  death  appeared  to  his 
sweetheart  and  carryed  her  behind  him  fourty 
miles  in  two  hours  time  and  was  never  seen  after 
but  in  the  grsLve. 
^  To  the  tune  of  My  bleeding  heart,  etc. 

London :  Printed  for  W.  Thackery  and  T.  Passen- 
ger.     [1689.     The  date  added  by  Wood.'] 

Roxburghe  and  Crawford :  Printed  by  and  for  A. 
M[ilbourne],  and  sold  by  the  booksellers  of  Pye- 
corner  and  London-bridge. 


Pepys:  Printed  for  F.  C[oles],  T.  V[ere],  J. 
W[right],  J.  C[lark],  W.  T[hackeray],  T.  P[as- 
singerj. 

a.  14^  25^  handcherchief. 

16*.  he  set  (0.  B.  left).     17^.  whose. 
22^  too.     24*.  others.     25*.  undoe. 

b.  3^.  There  was  a  young  man. 
4^  addresses.     4^.  But  when. 
16*.  he  set.     19^.  did  not  you. 
19^  hair  stand.     27^  did  wanting. 


273 

KING   EDWARD   THE   FOURTH   AND  A   TANNER   OF 

TAMWORTH 


a.  Wood,  401,  fol.  44,  Bodleian  Library. 

b.  Douce,  I,  109,  Bodleian  Library. 


o.  Roxburghe,  I,  176,  177;  Chappell,  Roxburghe  Bal- 
lads, I,  529. 


The  ballad  is  also  in  the  Pepys  collection, 
II,  129,  No  113,  and  there  are  two  copies  in 
the  Euing  collection,  Nos  273,  274. 

The  following  entries  occur  in  the  Station- 
ers' Registers: 


1564,  September  or  October,  William  Gref- 
feth  licenced  to  print  a  book  intituled  '  The 
story  of  Kynge  Henry  the  IIIJ*^  and  the  Tan- 
ner of  Tamowthe.'     Arber,  I,  264. 

1586,  August  1,  Edward  White,  *  A  merle 


^ 


v^ 


68 


373.    KING  EDWARD  THE  FOURTH  AND  A  TANNER  OP  TAMWORTH 


W 


V 


r 


songe  of  the  Kinge  and  the  Tanner.'     Arber, 
II,  451.* 

1600,  October  6,  William  White,  by  the 
consent  of  Widow  Danter,  '  A  merye,  pleas- 
ant and  delectable  history  betwene  Kinge 
Edward  the  IIIJ*^  and  a  Tanner  of  Tam- 
worthe,'  and,  by  like  consent  of  the  Widow 
Danter,  "  the  bal[l]ad  of  the  same  matter 
that  was  printed  by  her  husband  John  Dan- 
ter."    Arber,  III,  173. 

1615,  December  9,  John  Trundle,  for  a 
ballad  of  '  The  King  and  the  Tanner.'  Ar- 
ber, III,  579. 

1624,  December  14,  Master  Pavier,  John 
Wright,  and  others,  a  ballad,  '  King  and  Tan- 
ner.'    Arber,  IV,  131. 

The  ballad  mentioned  in  the  entry  under 
the  year  1600  is  unquestionably  our  ballad, 
or  an  earlier  form  of  it.  No  copy  from  the 
first  half  of  the  seventeenth  century  is  known 
to  be  preserved.  The  "delectable  history" 
entered  under  the  same  date  is  extant  in  an 
edition  of  1596,  printed  by  John  Danter,  and 
in  one  of  1613,  printed  by  William  White.f 
The  ballad,  as  we  have  it,  was  made  by 
abridging  the  fifty-six  stanzas  of  the  history 
to  thirty-nine,  with  other  changes.  The  his- 
jtory  itself  has  its  predecessor,  and,  as  Ritson 
■  remarks,  its  undoubted  original,  in  '  The  King 
/  and  the  Barker,'  %  between  which  and  the 
history,  though  the  former  has  come  down  to 
us  in  a  sadly  mutilated  condition,  and  has  been 
freely  treated  in  the  remodelling,  there  still 
remain  a  few  verbal  correspondences.     Sev- 


eral good  points  are  added  in  the  history,  and 
one  or  two  dropped. 

'  King  Edward  the  Fourth  and  Tanner  of 
Tamworth,'  in  Percy's  Reliques,  1765,  II,  75, 
was  compounded  from  Danter's  history,  1596, 
and  a  copy  "  in  one  sheet  folio,  without  date, 
in  the  Pepys  collection."  § 

King  Edward,  while  out  a-hunting,  sees  a 
tanner  coming  along  the  way,  and  takes  a 
fancy  to  accost  him.  Leaving  his  lords  under 
a  tree,  he  rides  forward  and  asks  the  tanner 
the  way  to  Drayton  Basset ;  the  tanner  di- 
rects him  to  turn  in  at  the  first  pair  of  gal- 
lows. The  king  presses  for  a  civil  answer ; 
the  tanner  bids  him  be  gone  ;  he  himself  has 
been  riding  all  day  and  is  fasting.  The  king 
promises  meat  and  drink  of  the  best  for  his 
company  to  Drayton  Basset ;  the  tanner  makes 
game  of  the  offer,  and  tries  to  get  away,  but 
in  vain.  The  king  now  proposes  to  change 
his  horse  for  the  tanner's  mare ;  the  tanner 
demands  a  noble  to  boot,  nor  shall  a  cowhide 
which  he  is  riding  on  go  with  the  mare.  The 
cowhide  thrown  on  to  the  king's  saddle 
frightens  the  horse  and  the  tanner  is  pitched 
off ;  after  this  he  will  not  keep  the  horse,  but 
the  king  in  turn  exacts  a  noble  to  boot.  Then 
the  king  sounds  his  horn,  and  his  attendants 
come  riding  in ;  the  tanner  takes  the  whole 
party  to  be  strong  thieves,  but  when  he  sees 
the  suite  fall  on  their  knees  he  would  be  glad 
to  be  out  of  the  company.  '  A  collar  I  a  col- 
lar ! '  cries  the  king  (to  make  the  tanner  es- 
quire, but  this  is  inadvertently  left  out  in  the 


*  1599,  August  28,  two  plays,  being  the  first  and  second 
part  of  [Thomas  Heywood's]  '  Edward  the  nU""  and  the 
Tanner  of  Tamworth,'  etc.    Arber,  III,  147. 

t  See  an  appendix  to  this  ballad.  White's  edition  has 
verbal  variations  from  the  earlier,  and  supplies  three  lines 
and  a  half-line  which  have  been  cut  off  in  the  Bodleian  copy 
of  Danter.  Heber  had  a  copy  of  '  King  Edward  4th  and 
the  Tanner,'  printed  by  Edward  Allde  (1602-23),  whether 
the  "  history  "  or  the  "  ballad  "  does  not  appear. 

t  Printed  by  Ritson,  Pieces  of  Ancient  Popular  Poetry, 
1791,  p.  57.     Given  in  an  appendix. 

§  "  Seemingly,"  says  Mr  Chappell,  "  not  one  bound  up 
with  the  collection  of  ballads." 

Selden,  in  the  second  edition  of  his  Titles  of  Honor  (for 
so  he  chooses  to  spell),  1631,  p.  836,  remarks  :  Nor  is  that 
old  pamphlet  of  the  Tanner  of  Tamworth  and  King  Edward 
the  Fourth  so  contemptible  but  that  wee  may  thence  note 
also  an  observable  passage  wherein  the  use  of  making 


Esquires  by  giving  collars  is  expressed.  He  then  quotes 
two  stanzas  from  the  history  : 

'  A  coller !  a  coller ! '  our  king  gan  cry  ; 
Quoth  the  tanner,  It  will  breed  sorrow  ; 
For  after  a  coller  commeth  a  halter, 
I  trow  I  shall  be  hangd  to  morrow. 

'Be  not  afraid,  tanner,'  said  our  king; 
'  I  tell  thee,  so  mought  I  thee, 
Lo,  here  I  make  thee  the  best  esquire 
That  is  in  the  North  Countrie ! ' 

(This  passage  is  not  in  the  first  edition,  of  1614,  as  I  am  in- 
formed by  Mr  Macmath,  who  has  copied  it  for  me.)  Percy 
says  that  he  has  "  restored  "  one  of  his  stanzas  from  the  last 
of  these  two.  The  restoration  might  as  well  have  been 
made  from  Danter's  history,  which  he  was  using.  There  is 
a  trifling  variation  from  Danter  in  the  fourth  verse,  as  given 
by  Selden  and  repeated  by  Percy,  which  is  found  in  White's 
edition. 


\^\ 


:;ttV" 


KING  EDWARD  THE  FOURTH  AND  A  TANNER  OF  TAMWORTH 


\       373. 

ballad).  *  After  a  collar  comes  a  halter,'  ex- 
claims the  unhappy  tanner.  But  the  king  is 
graciously  pleased  to  pay  for  the  sport  which 
he  has  had  by  conferring  on  the  tanner  an 
estate  of  three  hundred  pound  a  year ;  *  in 
return  for  which  his  grateful  liegeman  en- 
gages to  give  him  clouting-leather  for  his 
shoon  if  ever  he  comes  to  Tamworth. 

Next  to  adventures  of  Robin  Hood  and  his 
men,  the  most  favorite  topic  in  English  pop- 
ular poetry  is  the  chance-encounter  of  a  king, 
unrecognized  as  such,  with  one  of  his  hum- 
bler subjects.  Even  in  the  Robin  Hood  cycle 
we  have  one  of  these  meetings  (in  the  seventh 
and  eighth  fits  of  the  Little  Gest),  but  there 
the  king  visits  Robin  Hood  dehberately  and 
in  disguise,  whereas  in  the  other  tales  (ex- 
cept the  latest)  the  meeting  is  accidental. 

The  most  familiar  of  these  tales  are  '  The 
King  and  the  Tanner,'  and  '  The  King  and 
the  Miller;'  the  former  reaching  back  be- 
yond the  sixteenth  century,  the  latter  per- 
haps not  beyond  the  seventeenth,  but  mod- 
elled upon  tales  of  respectable  antiquity,  of 
which  there  is  a  specimen  from  the  early 
years  of  the  thirteenth  century.f 

In  the  history  or  "ballad"  of  '  The  King  and 
the  Miller,'  or,  more  specifically,  '  King  Henry 
Second  and  the  Miller  of  Mansfield,'  the  king, 
while  hunting  in  Sherwood,  loses  his  nobles 
and  is  overtaken  by  night ;  he  meets  a  miller, 
and  after  some  colloquy  is  granted  a  lodging  ; 
is  entertained  with  bag-puddings  and  apple- 
pies,  to  which  is  added  a  course  of  '  light-foot,' 
a  pasty  of  the  king's  deer,  two  or  three  of 
which,  the  miller  tells  his  guest  in  confidence, 
he  always  keeps  in  store.    The  nobles  recover 


69 


the  king  at  the  miller's  the  next  morning; 
the  miller  looks  to  be  hanged  when  he  sees 
them  fall  on  their  knees ;  the  king  dubs  him 
knight.  The  king  has  relished  his  night  with 
the  miller  so  much  that  he  determines  to  have 
more  sport  out  of  him,  and  commands  the 
attendance  of  the  new  knight  with  his  lady 
and  his  son  Dick  at  court  on  St.  George's  day. 
The  three  jet  down  to  the  king's  hall  on  their 
mill-horses.  In  the  course  of  the  dinner  the 
king  expresses  a  wish  for  some  of  their  light- 
foot  ;  Dick  teUs  him  that  it  is  knavery  to  eat 
of  it  and  then  betray  it.  Sir  John  Cockle 
and  Dick  dance  with  the  court-ladies,  and  the 
buffoonery  ends  by  the  king's  making  the 
miller  overseer  of  Sherwood,  with  a  stipend 
of  three  hundred  pound,  to  which  he  attaches 
an  injunction  to  steal  no  more  deer.:}: 

Of  the  older  poems, '  John  the  Reeve '  (910 
w.)  may  be  noticed  first,  because  it  has  a 
nearly  complete  story,  and  also  resemblance 
in  details  with  *  The  King  and  the  Tanner,'  or 
'  The  King  and  the  Miller,'  which  two  others 
of  perhaps  earlier  date  have  not.  *  John  the  ^ 
Reeve '  is  now  extant  only  in  the  Percy  MS. 
(p.  357,  Hales  and  Furnivall,  II,  650).  Since 
there  had  been  but  three  kings  of  the  name 
of  Edward  (v.  16),  it  must  have  been  com- 
posed, as  Mr  Hales  has  remarked,  between 
the  death  of  Edward  III  and  the  accession  .    . 

of  Edward  IV,  1376-1461,  and  forms  of  Ian-    ^  ^ 
guage  show  that  the  Percy  text  must  be  nearer 
the  end  than  the  beginning  of  this  period.§ 

Edward  Longshanks,  while  hunting,  is  sep- 
arated from  all  his  train  but  a  bishop  and 
an  earl.  Night  comes  on,  and  they  know  not 
where  they  are,  and  the  weather  is  cold  and 


*  '  The  King  and  the  Barker '  is  less  extravagant  and 
more  rational  here ;  the  king  simply  orders  the  barker  '  a 
hundred  shilling  in  his  parse.'  But  both  the  esquiring 
(knighting)  and  the  estate  are  found  in  still  older  poems 
which  remain  to  be  mentioned. 

t  A  pervasive  boorishness,  with  some  coarse  pleasantry, 
distinguishes  the  seventeenth  -  century  tales  disadvanta- 
geously  from  the  older  ones. 

t  There  is  an  entry  of  'Miller  and  King'  (among  128 
ballads),  December  14,  1624;  another  entry,  June  30, 1625  : 
Stationers'  Registers,  Arber,  IV,  131,  143.  The  broadside 
is  in  many  of  the  collections  :  '  A  pleasant  ballad  of  King 
Henry  second  and  the  Miller  of  Mansfield,'  Roxburghe,  I, 
178,  228,  ni,  853,  the  first  reprinted  by  Chappell,  Rox- 


burghe Ballads,  I,  537 ;  Pepys,  I,  528,  No  272 ;  Bagford, 
n,  25 ;  Wood,  401,  fol.  5  b,  '  A  pleasant  new  ballad  of  the 
Miller  of  Mansfield  in  Sherwood  and  K.  Henry  the  Sec- 
ond,' Wood,  254,  iv,  '  The  pleasant  history  of  the  Miller  of 
Mansfield,'  etc.,  dated  1655;  Crawford,  No  491.  Also, 
*  Kinge  and  Miller,'  Percy  MS.,  p.  235,  Hales  and  Furni- 
vall, II,  147  (see  Appendix);  Percy's  Reliques,  1765,  III, 
179,  the  MS.  copy  "with  corrections "  from  the  Pepys. — 
Not  in  the  ballad-stanza. 

§  John  the  Reeve  is  mentioned  (in  conjunction  with  Rauf 
Coilyear)  by  G.  Douglas,  Palice  of  Honour,  1501,  Small,  I, 
65,  V.  3,  and  by  Dunbar,  about  1510,  Small,  I,  105,  v.  33 ; 
John  the  Reeve  again  by  Lindsay,  The  Complaynt  of  the 
Papingo,  1530,  Chalmers,  I,  318. 


70 


373.    KING  EDWABD  THE  FOURTH  AND  A  TANNER  OP  TAMWORTH 


rough.  As  they  stand  considering  which  way 
to  turn,  a  stout  carl  rides  by ;  they  beg  him  to 
take  them  to  some  harbor.  The  fellow  will  at 
first  have  nothing  to  do  with  them,  but  finally 
shows  a  disposition  to  be  accommodating  if 
they  will  swear  to  do  him  no  harm  ;  all  that 
he  can  promise  them,  however,  is  beef  and 
bread,  bacon  a  year  old,  and  sour  ale  ;  as  for 
a  good  fire,  which  the  king  would  particularly 
like,  they  cannot  have  that,  for  fuel  is  dear. 
They  ride  on  to  a  town,  light  at  a  comely  hall, 
and  are  taken  into  a  room  with  a  bright  fire 
and  candles  lighted.  The  carl,  who  has  al- 
ready described  himself  as  John  the  Reeve, 
husbandman  and  the  king's  bondman,  inquires 
of  the  earl  who  the  long  fellow  may  be,  and 
who  the  other  in  the  sark :  the  first,  he  is  told, 
is  Piers,  the  queen's  chief  falconer,  the  other  a 
poor  chaplain,  and  the  earl  himself  a  sumpter- 
man.  '  Proud  lads,  and  I  trow  penniless,'  is 
John's  comment ;  he  himself,  though  not  so 
fine,  has  a  thousand  pound  and  more.  They 
move  on  to  the  hall,  and  are  civilly  received  by 
the  goodwife.  John  marshals  the  company, 
now  increased  by  two  daughters  of  the  house, 
and  by  Hodge  and  Hob,  two  neighbors,  setting 
the  three  strangers  and  his  wife  at  the  head 
of  the  table,  his  daughters  farther  down,  and 
taking  the  end  himseK  with  his  neighbors. 
Bean-bread,  rusty  bacon,  lean  salt  beef  a  year 
old,  and  sour  ale  are  brought  in,  and  every  one 
has  a  mess.  The  king  murmurs,  John  says. 
Thou  gettest  no  other;  the  king  coaxes, 
John  will  not  give  them  a  morsel  unless  they 
swear  never  to  tell  of  him  to  Edward.  All 
three  pledge  their  troth,  and  then  come  in 
fine  bread,  wine  red  and  white,  in  silver  cups, 
the  boar's  head,  capons,  venison,  —  everything 
that  king  could  have  or  crave.  After  the 
supper,  John,  Hob,  and  Hodge  perform  a  rus- 
tic dance  ;  King  Edward  (who  gets  his  shins 
kicked)  never  had  so  merry  a  night.  In  the 
morning  they  hear  mass  and  eat  a  good  break- 
fast, for  which  they  promise  warison,  and 
then  the  king  takes  leave  and  rides  to  Wind- 
sor. The  lords  have  a  good  story  to  tell  the 
queen;  she  prays  the  king  to  send  for  the 

*  Reprinted  in  Laing's  Select  Remains  of  the  Ancient 
Popular  Poetry  of  Scotland,  from  the  edition  of  St  An- 
drews, 1572 ;  thence  in  Charlemagne  Romances,  No  6,  ed. 


reve.  John  is  convinced  that  he  has  been 
beguiled  by  his  guests,  but  arms  himself  with 
such  as  he  has,  and,  after  a  huge  libation  with 
Hodge  and  Hob,  sets  forth.  The  porter  at 
the  palace  will  not  let  him  in  ;  John  knocks 
him  over  the  crowTi  and  rides  into  the  hall. 
Neither  before  this  nor  then  will  he  vail  hat 
or  hood.  [The  passage  in  which  the  reve  dis- 
covers that  Piers  falconer  was  the  king  has 
dropped  out.]  John  bears  himself  sturdily  ; 
the  king  can  punish  him,  but  the  king  is  hon- 
orable and  will  keep  his  word,  and  may  re- 
member the  promised  warison.  The  king 
gives  thanks  for  the  hot  capons  and  good 
wine,  the  queen  urges  that  the  reve  should  be 
promoted.  The  king,  nothing  loath,  makes 
John  a  gentleman,  and  gives  him  his  manor, 
a  hundred  pound  and  a  tun  of  wine  yearly, 
then  takes  a  collar  and  creates  him  knight. 
John  blenches  a  little  at  the  collar;  he  has 
heard  that  after  a  collar  comes  a  rope ;  but  he 
recovers  his  nerve  after  supping  off  a  gallon 
of  wine  at  the  table.  It  is  now  the  bishop's 
turn  to  do  something ;  he  promises  his  good 
offices  for  John's  two  sons  and  two  daughters ; 
these,  in  the  end,  are  well  disposed  of,  and 
Hodge  and  Hob  are  made  freemen.  John 
ever  after  keeps  open  board  for  all  guests  that 
God  sends  him. 

The  tale  of  Rauf  Coilyear,*  shortly  after 
_1480,  has  for  its  personages  Charles  the  Great 
and  a  charcoal-burner.  Charles,  on  his  way 
to  Paris  from  St  Thomas,  is  isolated  from  his  ^ 
cortege  by  a  fierce  storm ;  night  has  come  on 
and  he  is  in  a  strait  for  shelter.  By  good 
luck  Rauf  makes  his  appearance,  a  churl  of 
prodigious  inurbanity,  but  ready  to  take  in 
any  good  fellow  that  is  *  will  of  his  way.' 
Arrived  at  his  house,  Rauf  calls  to  his  wife  to 
make  a  fire  and  kill  capons.  When  supper  is 
dight,  the  guest  is  told  to  give  the  goodwife  tis 
hand  and  take  the  head  of  the  table.  Charles 
hangs  back ;  the  churl,  who  has  once  before 
criticised  his  manners,  hits  him  under  the  ear 
and  sends  him  sprawling  to  the  floor.  There 
is  a  plenteous  supper,  in  which  venison  is  not 
lacking.     The  carl  tells  the  king   that   the 

S.  J.  Herrtage,  Early  English  Text  Society,  1882.  As  to 
the  date,  see  Max  Tonndorf,  Rauf  Coilyear,  Halle  a.  S. 
1893,  p.  13  £E. 


273.    KING  EDWARD  THE  FOURTH  AND  A  TANNER  OF  TAMWORTH 


71 


foresters  have  threatened  to  send  him  to  Paris 
for  deer  stealing,  but  he  means  to  have  enough 
for  himself  and  a  guest  in  spite  of  them.  Then 
after  wine  they  sit  by  the  fire  and  the  collier 
tells  many  a  tale.  Charles  is  affable  ;  Rauf 
asks  him  his  name  and  where  he  lives  ;  Wy- 
mond  is  his  name,  and  he  lives  with  the  queen, 
in  fact,  is  of  her  bed-chamber ;  if  Rauf  will 
come  to  court  he  shall  have  the  better  sale  for 
his  fuel.  Charles  is  put  to  bed  in  a  hand- 
some room,  and  rises  so  early  that  he  has  to 
waken  his  host  to  take  leave.  He  is  urged 
not  to  go  so  soon,  but  to-morrow  is  Yule  and 
every  officer  of  the  court  must  be  at  his  post. 
He  wishes  to  pay  the  goodwif e  for  her  good 
entertainment ;  Rauf  will  not  hear  of  such  a 
thing.  Come  to  court  to-morrow,  says  the 
king;  I  want  coals  myseK.  Roland  and 
Oliver  and  a  thousand  more  have  been  wan- 
dering all  night  in  search  of  their  lord,  and 
thank  God  when  they  recover  him  on  the  road 
to  Paris.  Rauf  sets  out  for  the  court  with 
his  coals,  according  to  appointment ;  the  king 
has  him  in  mind,  and  sends  out  Roland  to 
bring  in  such  man  as  he  may  meet.  Roland 
finds  the  collier  intractable,  and  has  to  return 
without  him.  The  king  is  displeased,  and 
Roland  is  on  the  point  of  going  again,  when 
he  learns  from  a  porter  that  there  is  a  man 
with  a  horse  and  baskets  at  the  gate  who  will 
not  be  turned  away.  Rauf  is  let  in  ;  he  gives 
his  horse  in  charge  to  the  porter,  and  pushes 
into  the  hall  to  find  Wymond,  and  after  be- 
ing shoved  about  a  good  deal,  gets  sight  of 
him,  dressed  in  cloth  of  gold,  and  clearly  a 
much  greater  man  than  he  had  called  himself ; 
he  is  daunted  by  all  the  splendor ;  if  he  could 
but  get  away,  nothing  should  bring  him  to 
the  court  again.  The  king  then  tells  the 
story  of  his  night  at  Rauf's,  not  pretermit- 

*  So  far  767  verses  of  975 :  the  rest  is  not  pertinent  and 
is  very  poor  stuff.  '  Rauf  Coilyear '  is  a  clever  piece,  but  I 
cannot  think  with  Mr  Herrtage  that  it  is  "quite  original." 
Its  exaggerations  suggest  a  second  hand ;  the  author  means 
to  pepper  higher  with  his  churl's  discourtesy  than  had  been 
done  before.  The  'marshalling'  in  183-86  recalls  'John 
the  Reeve,'  342-50. 

t  Printed  in  Hartshorne's  Ancient  Metrical  Tales,  p.  35. 
Professor  Kittredge  has  called  my  attention  to  a  stanza  of 
Occleve's  which  shows  that  the  belief  that  Edward  III  went 


ting  the  carl's  rough  behavior.  The  lords 
laugh,  the  knights  are  for  hanging  him  ;  the 
king  thinks  he  owes  better  thanks,  and  dubs 
Rauf  knight,  assigns  him  three  hundred  a 
year,  and  promises  him  the  next  fief  that  falls 
vacant.* 

'King  Edward  Third  and  the  Shepherd,* 
MS.  of  about  1450,  Cambridge  University 
Library,  Ff.  5.  48  b,  1090  w.f 

The  king,  while  taking  his  pleasure  by  a 
river-side  one  morning,  meets  Adam,  a  shep- 
herd, and  engages  in  talk  with  him.  The 
shepherd  complains  of  the  king's  men,  who 
help  themselves  to  his  beasts,  sheep,  hens, 
and  geese,  and  at  best  pay  with  a  tally.  Ed- 
ward is  concerned  for  the  king's  good  fame ; 
he  is  a  merchant,  but  has  a  son  with  the 
queen  who  can  get  any  boon  of  her,  and  the 
shepherd  shall  have  what  is  due  him.  That 
is  four  pound  two,  says  Adam,  and  you  shall 
have  seven  shillings  for  your  service.  It  is 
arranged  that  the  shepherd  shall  come  to 
court  the  next  day  and  ask  the  porter  for 
Joly  Robyn.  The  king  is  kept  a  long  time 
by  the  shepherd's  stories,  but  not  too  long, 
for  when  he  is  invited  to  come  home  and 
take  a  bit  to  eat  he  accepts  with  pleasure. 
They  see  many  a  coney,  hart,  and  hind,  on 
their  way,  and  the  king  tries  to  put  up  Adam, 
who  has  been  bragging  of  his  skill  with  the 
sling,  to  kill  a  few ;  but  the  man,  as  he  says, 
knows  very  well  the  danger  of  poaching,  and 
never  touches  anything  but  wild  fowl.  Of 
these  they  have  all  sorts  at  their  meal,  and 
two-penny  ale.  Before  they  set  to  drinking, 
Adam  instructs  the  king  in  an  indispensable 
form :  he  that  drinks  first  must  call  out  '  pas- 
silodion,'  and  the  respondent  '  berafrynd.' 
Edward  praises  the  dinner,  but  owns  to  a 
hankering  for  a  little  game.     Can  you  keep  a 

about  in  disguise  among  his  subjects  prevailed  not  long  after 

the  king's  death. 

O  worthy  kyng  benigne,  Edwarde  the  laste, 
Thow  hadest  ofte  in  thyne  hart  a  drede  impressede 
Whiche  that  thyne  humble  goste  fulle  sore  agaste, 
And  to  knowe  yf  thow  cursed  were  or  blessede, 
Amonge  the  peple  ofte  hast  thow  the  dressede 
Into  the  contrey,  in  symple  aray  alone, 
To  heere  what  men  seide  of  thy  persone. 

Occleve,  De  Regimine  Principum, 
ed.  Wright  (Roxb.  Club),  p.  92. 


\y 


72 


2T3.    KING  EDWARD  THE  FOURTH  AND  A  TANNER  OF  TAMWORTH 


secret  ?  asks  the  shepherd ;  indeed  he  can. 
Upon  this  assurance,  Adam  fetches  pasties  of 
rabbits  and  deer ;  of  these  he  is  wont  to  kill 
more  than  he  himself  needs,  and  sends  pres- 
ents to  gentlemen  and  yeomen,  who  in  return 
furnish  him  with  bread,  ale,  and  wine.  Wine 
follows:  Edward  calls  'passilodion;'  Adam  is 
ready  with  '  berafrynd.'  The  king  now  takes 
leave,  but  before  he  goes  the  shepherd  shows 
him  a  room  underground  well  stored  with 
venison  and  wine,  and  they  have  one  draught 
more.  The  next  day  the  shepherd  goes  to 
court  and  asks  the  porter  for  Joly  Robyn. 
The  king  has  prepared  his  lords  for  the  visit, 
and  directed  them  to  call  him  by  that  name. 
Adam  is  paid  his  four  pound  two,  and  offers 
Robyn  the  promised  seven  shillings  for  his 
mediation.  Robyn  will  take  nothing ;  he 
would  do  much  more  than  that  for  love; 
Adam  must  dine  with  him,  and  is  placed  at 
the  head  of  a  table.  The  king  sends  the 
prince  to  Adam  for  a  Tjout  of  passilodion ; 
Adam  says  the  merchant  has  betrayed  him, 
and  wishes  he  were  out  of  the  place.  A  squire 
is  now  ordered  to  tell  Adam  that  Joly  Robyn 
is  the  king.  Adam  puts  down  his  hood, 
which  up  to  this  time  he  would  do  for  no- 
body,* falls  on  his  knees,  and  cries  mercy. 
The  rest  is  wanting,  but  we  may  be  certain 
that  Adam  was  knighted  and  presented  with 
an  estate. 
J  '  King  Edward  and  the  Hermit,'  MS.  Ash- 
mole  6922,  of  about  1450,  a  fragment  of  522 
vv.f 

The  king,  hunting  in  Sherwood,  follows  a 
remarkably  large  deer  till  he  loses  himself. 
By  the  favor  of  St  Julian,  he  discovers  a 
hermitage ;  he  asks  quarters  for  the  night; 
the  hermit  lives  on  roots  and  rinds,  and  such 
a  lord  would  starve  with  him,  but  he  yields 
to  urgency.  The  guest  must  take  such  as  he 
finds,  and  that  is  bread  and  cheese  and  thin 
drink.  King  Edward  expresses  his  surprise 
that  the  hermit  should  not  help  himself  out 

*  So  John  the  Reeve ;  five  or  six  times  in  each. 

t  Printed  in  The  British  Bibliographer,  IV,  81,  thence  in 
Hartshome's  Metrical  Tales,  p.  293,  and,  with  some  im- 
provements from  the  MS.,  in  Hazlitt's  Early  Popular  Poetry, 
1, 11.  '  The  King  and  the  Hermit '  is  told  as  '  the  romans 
says/  V.  15.    It  is,  as  Scott  has  explained,  the  source  of  a 


with  the  deer ;  the  hermit  is  much  too  loyal 
for  that,  and  besides,  the  peril  is  to  be  con- 
sidered. Still  the  king  presses  for  venison ; 
no  man  shall  know  of  it ;  the  hermit,  con- 
vinced that  he  is  safe  with  his  company, 
brings  out  venison,  salt  and  fresh,  and  then 
a  four-gallon  pot.  The  king  is  taught  to  ) 
drink  in  good  form ;  when  one  calls  '  fusty  \ 
bandyas,'  the  other  must  come  in  withl 
'stryke  pantere;'  and  thus  they  lead  holy; 
life.  Such  cheer  deserves  requital ;  if  the 
hermit  will  come  to  court,  where  his  guest  is 
living,  he  has  only  to  ask  for  Jack  Fletcher, 
and  they  two  will  have  the  best  that  is  there ; 
the  'frere,'  though  not  eager  to  close  with 
this  proposal,  says  he  will  venture  a  visit.  To 
show  Jack  more  of  his  privity  he  takes  him 
into  his  bedroom  and  gives  him  a  bow  to 
draw ;  Jack  can  barely  stir  the  string ;  the 
frere  hauls  to  the  head  an  arrow  an  ell  long. 
Then,  wishing  that  he  had  a  more  perfect 
reliance  on  Jack's  good  faith,  the  hermit  ex- 
hibits his  stock  of  venison,  after  which  they 
go  back  to  their  drinking,  and  keep  it  up  till 
near  day.  They  part  in  the  morning ;  the 
king  reminds  his  host  of  the  promised  visit, 
and  rides  straight  for  home.  His  knights, 
who  have  been  blowing  horns  for  him  all 
night  in  the  forest,  are  made  happy  by  hear- 
ing his  bugle,  and  return  to  the  town.  This 
is  all  that  is  preserved,  but  again  we  may  be 
confident  that  King  Edward  made  the  hermit 
an  abbot. 

That  the  hermit  had  some  habilitation  for 
such  promotion  appears  from  a  story  told  by 
Giraldus  Cambrensis  two  hundred  years  be-   * 
fore  the  apparent  date  of  any  of  these  poems,  J 

King  Henry  Second,  separated  from  his 
men  in  hunting,  came  to  a  Cistercian  house 
at  nightfall  and  was  hospitably  received,  not 
as  king  (for  this  they  knew  not),  but  as  a 
knight  of  the  king's  house  and  retinue.  After 
a  handsome  supper,  the  abbot  asked  his  help 
in  some  business  of  the  fraternity  on  which 

charming  chapter  (the  sixteenth  of  the  first  volume)  of 
*  Ivanhoe.'  There  are  many  agreements  with  *  The  King 
and  the  Shepherd.* 

X  Giraldi  Cambrensis  Opera,  ed.  Brewer,  Speculum  Eo- 
clesiae,  IV,  213-15,  about  1216. 


273.    KING  EDWARD  THE  FOURTH  AND  A  TANNER  OF  TAMWORTH 


73 


) 


he  was  to  visit  the  king  the  next  day,  and  this 
was  readily  promised.  The  abbot,  to  improve 
his  guest's  good  disposition,  had  his  health 
drunk  in  many  a  cup  of  choice  wine,  after 
r  the  English  fashion ;  but  instead  of  the  cus- 
N  tomary  salutation  or  challenge  '  wes  heil ! '  * 
/  called  '  pril ! '  The  king,  who  would  have 
answered  '  drinc  heil ! '  was  at  a  loss  how  to 
respond  ;  he  was  told  that  '  wril ! '  was  the 
word.  And  so  with  '  pril '  and  '  wril '  they 
pursued  their  compotation,  monks,  freres, 
guests,  servants,  deep  into  the  night.  The 
next  morning  the  king  rejoined  his  party,  who 
had  been  much  alarmed  at  losing  him.  Order 
was  given  that  when  the  abbot  came  he  should 
be  immediately  admitted,  and  it  was  not  long 
before  he  made  his  appearance,  with  two  of 
his  monks.  The  king  received  him  graciously, 
all  that  he  asked  was  granted ;  the  abbot 
begged  leave  to  retire,  but  the  king  carried  him 
off  to  luncheon  and  seated  him  by  his  side. 
After  a  splendid  meal,  the  king,  lifting  a  big 
cup  of  gold,  called  out,  '  Pril,  father  abbot ! ' 
The  abbot,  staggering  with  shame  and  fear, 
begged  his  grace  and  forgiveness.  The  king 
swore  by  God's  eyes  that  as  they  had  eaten 
and  drunk  together  in  good  fellowship  the 
night  before,  so  should  it  be  to-day ;  and  it 
should  be  '  pril '  and  '  wril '  in  his  house  as  it 
had  been  at  the  convent.  The  abbot  could 
not  but  obey,  and  stammered  out  his  '  wril,' 
and  then  king  and  abbot,  knights  and  monks, 
and,  at  the  king's  command,  everybody  in 
hall  and  court,  kept  up  unremittingly  a  merry 
and  uproarious  interchange  of  '  pril '  and '  wril.' 
Of  all  the  four  old  poems  we  may  repeat 


what  Percy  has  said  of  '  John  the  Reeve,' 
that  "  for  genuine  humor,  diverting  incidents, 
and  faithful  pictures  of  rustic  manners,  they 
are  infinitely  superior  to  all  that  have  been 
since  written  in  imitation,"  meaning  by  these 
the  broadside  ballads  or  histories.f  A  brief 
account  of  such  of  these  as  have  not  been 
spoken  of  (all  of  very  low  quality)  is  the  ut- 
most that  is  called  for. 

<■  The  Shepherd  and  the  King.'J  King  Al-  ^ 
fred,  disguised  in  ragged  clothes,  meets  a  shep- 
herd, and  all  but  demands  a  taste  of  his  scrip 
and  bottle.  The  shepherd  will  make  him  win 
his  dinner,  sword  and  buckler  against  sheep- 
hook.  They  fight  four  hours,  and  the  king 
cries  truce ;  *  there  is  no  sturdier  fellow  in  the 
land  than  thou,'  says  the  king ;  '  nor  a  lustier 
roister  than  thou,'  says  the  shepherd.  The 
shepherd  thinks  his  antagonist  at  best  a  ruined 
prodigal,  but  offers  to  take  him  as  his  man  ; 
Alfred  accepts  the  place,  is  equipped  with 
sheep-hook,  tar-box,  and  dog,  and  accompa- 
nies his  master  home.  Dame  Gillian  doubts 
him  to  be  a  cut-throat,  and  rates  him  roundly 
for  letting  her  cake  burn  as  he  sits  by  the 
fire.§  Early  the  next  morning  Alfred  blows 
his  horn,  to  the  consternation  of  Gill  and  her 
husband,  who  are  still  abed.  A  hundred  men 
alight  at  the  door  ;  they  have  long  been  look- 
ing for  their  lord.  The  shepherd  expects  to 
be  hanged  ;  both  he  and  his  wife  humbly  beg 
pardon.  Alfred  gives  his  master  a  thousand 
wethers  and  pasture  ground  to  feed  them,  and 
will  change  the  cottage  into  a  stately  hall. 

*  King  James  and  the  Tinker.'  ||  King  James,      «^      \y 
while  chasing  his  deer,  drops  his  nobles,  and  /\ 


*  See  Geofitey  of  Monmouth,  Hist.  Reg.  Brit.,  vi,  12, 
Wace,  Roman  de  Brut,  7111-44,  ed.  LeRoux  de  Lincy,  I, 
329,  Layamon's  Brut,  14297-332,  Madden,  II,  174  f . ;  and 
for  other  drinking-calls  besides  these,  Wace,  Roman  de  Rou, 
Part  iii,  7357-60,  ed.  Andresen,  II,  320. 

t  Preface  to  '  The  King  and  Miller  of  Mansfield.' 

t  1578,  September  25,  licensed  to  Ric.  Jones,  'A  merry 
Songe  of  a  Kinge  and  a  Shepherd : '  Arber,  H,  338. 

1624,  December  14,  to  Master  Pavier  and  others,  among 
128  ballads,  '  King  and  Shepperd  : '  Arber,  IV,  131. 

Wood,  401,  fol.  lb;  Douce,  I,  fol.  1  b;  Euing,  Nos  331, 
332 ;  Pepys,  I,  76,  No  36,  I,  506,  No  260  j  Crawford,  No 
648 ;  Roxburghe,  I,  504,  printed  by  Chappell,  III,  210. 

§  This  is  as  old  as  Asser;  Annales,  Wise,  Oxford,  1722, 
p.  30. 

VOL.  V.  10 


II  '  Bjng  James  and  the  Tinker,'  Douce,  III,  fol.  126  b, 
fol.  136  b ;  no  printer,  place,  or  date.  '  King  James  the 
First  and  the  Tinker,'  Garland  of  Mirth  and  Delight ;  no 
place  or  date.  The  same  :  '  King  James  and  the  Tinkler,' 
Dixon,  in  Richardson's  Borderer's  Table-Book,  VII,  7,  and 
Ancient  Poems,  Ballads,  and  Songs,  etc.,  p.  109,  Percy  So- 
ciety, vol.  xvii.  '  James  V.  and  the  Tinker,'  A.  Small,  Inter- 
esting Roman  Antiquities  recently  discovered  in  Fife,  p.  283. 
'  King  James  the  First  and  the  fortunate  Tinker,'  The  King 
and  Tinker's  Garland,  containing  three  excellent  songs, 
SheflBeld,  1745,  Halliwell,  Notices  of  Fugitive  Tracts,  p.  29, 
No  36,  Percy  Society,  vol.  xxix  (not  seen).  '  The  King 
and  the  Tinkler,'  a  rifacimento,  in  Maidment's  Scotish  Bal- 
lads and  Songs,  1859,  p.  92 ;  Kinloch  MSS,  V,  293. 


74 


273.    KING  EDWARD  THE  FOURTH  AND  A  TANNER  OP  TAMWORTH 


rides  to  an  ale-house  in  search  of  new  pleas- 
,  ures,  finds  a  tinker  there,  and  sets  to  drinking 
with  him.  The  tinker  has  never  seen  the 
king,  and  wishes  he  might ;  James  says  that 
if  he  will  get  up  behind  him  he  shall  see  the 
king.  The  tinker  fears  that  he  shall  not 
know  the  king  from  his  lords ;  the  nobles  will 
all  be  bare,  the  king  covered.  When  they 
come  to  the  greenwood  the  nobles  gather  about 
the  king  and  stand  bare  ;  the  tinker  whispers, 
*  they  are  all  gallant  and  gay,  which,  then,  is 
the  king  ?  '  'It  must  be  you  or  I,'  answers 
James,  for  the  rest  are  all  uncovered.  The 
tinker  falls  on  his  knees,  beseeching  mercy ; 
the  king  makes  him  a  knight  with  five  hun- 
dred a  year.  (Compare  the  story  of  James 
Fifth  of  Scotland  and  John  Howieson,  Scott's 
Tales  of  a  Grandfather,  ch.  27.) 

^  '  The  King  and  the  Forester.'  *  King  Wil- 
liam the  Third,  forbidden  to  hunt  by  a  for- 
ester who  does  not  recognize  him,  tries  in  vain 
to  bribe  the  man,  makes  himself  known,  pre- 
sents the  forester  with  fifty  guineas,  and  ap- 
points him  ranger. 

y/  '  The  Royal  Frolick,  or.  King  William  and 
his  Nobles'  Entertainment  at  the  Farmer's 
House  on  his  return  from  the  Irish  wars.'  f 
King  William,  'returning  to  London  from 
Limerick  fight,'  stops  at  a  farm-house  *  for 
merriment  sake,'  and  asks  country  cheer  for 
himself  and  his  nobles.  The  farmer  and  his 
wife  have  gone  to  the  next  market-town  to 
see  the  king  pass,  and  their  daughter  alone  is 
at  home.  She  serves  bacon  and  eggs,  all  that 
she  has ;  the  king  throws  her  ten  guineas, 
and  one  of  his  lords  adds  two  for  loyal  senti- 
ments which  the  girl  had  expressed.  In  a 
Second  Part  the  farmer  and  his  wife,  when 
they  return,  learn  that  the  king  is  at  their 
house,  are  ordered  into  his  presence,  and  are 

*  *  The  Loyal  Forrister,  or  Royal  Pastime,'  printed  for 
C.  Bates  in  Pye-Corner  (c.  1696),  Euing,  No  156.  'King 
William  and  his  Forrester,'  no  imprint,  c.  1690-94,  Craw- 
ford, No  1421.  '  The  King  and  the  Forrester,'  Eoxburghe, 
III,  790,  Ebsworth  VII,  763  (Bow  Church- Yard ?).  'King 
V  William  going  a  hunting,'  Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  101,  from 
/    tradition. 

t  '  The  Royal  Frolick,'  etc.,  Pepys,  11,  313,  in  Ebsworth's 
Roxburghe  Ballads,  VII,  756. 

t  '  The  Royal  Recreation,  or  A  Second  Part,  containing 
the  passages  between  the  Farmer  and  his  Wife  at  their  re- 


rewarded  for  the  meal  which  had  been  fur- 
nished.^ 

'  The  King  and  the  Cobbler '  (a  prose  his-  y/ 
tory).  §  King  Henry  Eighth,  visiting  the 
watches  in  the  city,  makes  acquaintance  with 
a  cobbler,  and  is  entertained  in  the  cobbler's 
cellar ;  invites  the  cobbler  to  court,  directing 
him  to  inquire  for  Harry  Tudor,  etc. ;  settles 
upon  him  land  in  the  Strand  worth  fifty  pound 
a  year,  which  land  is  to  be  called  Cobler's 
Acre. 

Campbell,  West  Highland  Tales,  IV,  142, 
says  that  he  has  a  Gaelic  tale  like  '  The  Mil- 
ler of  Mansfield.' 

A  Belgian  story  of  the  Emperor  Charles 
Fifth  and  a  broom-maker  has  all  the  typical 
points  of  the  older  cycle,  and,  curiously 
enough,  Charles  Fifth  instructs  the  broom- 
maker  to  bring  a  load  of  his  ware  to  the  pal- 
ace to  sell,  as  Charles  the  Great  does  in  the 
case  of  Rauf  Coilyear  :  Maria  von  Ploen- 
nies.  Die  Sagen  Belgiens,  p.  251. 

The  same  collection,  p.  246  f .,  has  the  story 
of  the  man  who  wished  to  see  the  king  (an 
anecdote  of  Charles  Fifth  and  a  peasant).  This 
story  turns  up  again  in  Thiele's  '  Kongen  og 
Bonden,'  Danmarks  Folkesager,  I,  62  (1843). 
Christian  the  Fourth,  after  a  long  walk,  takes 
a  seat  in  the  cart  of  a  countryman  who  is  on 
his  way  to  the  castle.  The  countryman  wishes 
that  he  might  see  the  king ;  the  king  will  be 
the  only  man  to  keep  his  hat  on ;  the  coun- 
tryman says.  It  must  be  you  or  I. 

After  the  older  pattern  is  this  Russian 
story,  Afanasief,  VII,  233,  No  32  (given  me 
by  Professor  WoUner).  A  tsar  who  has  lost 
himself  while  hunting  passes  the  night  with  a 
deserter  in  a  robbers-hut  in  a  wood.  They 
draw  lots  who  shall  stand  guard,  and  the  lot 

turn  home,  where  they  found  the  King  with  his  Noble  Reti- 
nue.' Pepys,  II,  326,  Roxburghe,  II,  397,  Ebsworth,  VII, 
761. 

§  '  The  King  and  the  Cobler.'  Charles  Dennison,  at  the 
sign  of  the  Stationers' Arms  within  Aldgate  (168.5-89,  Chap- 
peU).  Wood,  254,  xi ;  Pepys,  Penny  Merriments,  vol.  i ; 
Halliwell,  Notices  of  Popular  Histories,  p.  48,  Percy  So- 
ciety, vol.  xxiii,  Newcastle,  without  date ;  Manchester 
Penny  Histories  (last  quarter  of  the  eighteenth  century), 
Liebrecht,  Zur  Volkskunde,  p.  482,  No  6. 


273.    KING  EDWARD  THE  FOITRTH  AND  A  TANNER  OF  TAMWORTH 


75 


falls  to  the  tsar,  to  whom  the  soldier  gives  his 
side-arms.  Notwithstanding  many  warnings, 
the  tsar  dozes  on  his  post,  and  at  last  the  sol- 
dier, first  punishing  him  a  little,  packs  him  off 
to  sleep.  The  robbers  come,  one  by  one,  and 
are  shot  by  the  soldier.  The  next  day  the 
deserter  shows  the  tsar  his  road,  and  after- 
wards pays  the  tsar  a  visit  at  court,  discovers 
who  his  comrade  was,  and  is  made  general. 

The  Emperor  Maximilian  Second,  while 
walking  in  a  wood,  comes  upon  a  charcoal- 
burner  ;  they  have  a  talk,  and  the  emperor  is 
invited  to  share  the  man's  dumplings.  Maxi- 
milian asks  the  charcoal-burner  to  pay  him  a 
visit  when  he  comes  to  the  city,  lets  him  see 
the  princes  and  the  empress,  and  gives  him 
a  luncheon.  There  is  no  ^claireissement  at 
the  time.     In   the  end  the   charcoal-burner 


and  his  family  are  employed  in  the  imperial 
garden.* 

Robert  Dodsley  made  a  very  pleasing  little 
sentimental  drama  out  of  '  The  King  and  the 
Miller  of  Mansfield  '  (1737),  and  from  this 
play  (perhaps  through  a  translation,  '  Le  Roi 
et  le  Meunier,'  made  before  1756),  S^daine 
took  the  substance  of  '  Le  Roi  et  le  Fermier,' 
1762,  and  CoUd  the  idea  of  'La  Partie 
de  Chasse  de  Henri  IV,  1774.'  Goldoni's 
musical  drama,  *  II  re  alia  caccia '  (King 
Henry  IV  of  England),  produced  a  year 
after  Sedaine's  play,  seems  to  have  been  sug- 
gested by  it :  vol.  37  of  the  edition  of  Venice, 
1794. 

Percy's  ballad  is  translated  by  Bodmer,  I, 
172. 


1  In  summer  time,  when  leaves  grew  green, 

and  birds  were  singing  on  every  tree,  ^ 
King  Edward  would  a  hunting  ride, 

some  pastime  for  to  see.  3 

2  Our  king  he  would  a  hunting  ride, 

by  eight  a  clock  of  the  day,  3 

And  well  was  he  ware  of  a  bold  tanner, 
came  riding  on  the  way.  ^ 

3  A  good  russet  coat  the  tanner  had  on, 

fast  buttoned  under  his  chin, 
And  under  him  a  good  cow-hide, 

and  a  mare  of  four  shilling.  J 

4  '  Now  stand  you  here,  my  good  lords  all, 

under  this  trusty  tree, 
And  I  will  wend  to  yonder  fellow, 

to  know  from  whence  came  he.  -3 

5  '  God  speed,  God  speed,'  then  said  our  king; 

'  thou  art  welcome,  good  fellow,'  quoth  he ; 

*  Kulda,  Moravske  n.  pohadky,  etc.,  1874,  I,  56,  No  20, 
in  Wenzig,  Westslavischer  Marchenschatz,  p.  179. 

Tonndorf,  in  the  dissertation  already  cited,  remarks  with 
truth  that  meetings  of  king  and  subject  (or  the  like)  are 
quite  regularly  a  sequel  or  incident  of  a  hunt,  and  refers  to 
Grimms,  Deutsche  Sagen,  Nos  550,  563,  566 ;  Cardonne, 
Mflanges  de  Litterature  orientale,  pp.  68,  87,  1 10 ;  Grasse, 


'Which  is  the  way  to  Drayton  Basset 
I  pray  thee  shew  to  me.' 

6  '  The  ready  way  to  Drayton  Basset, 
from  this  place  as  thou  dost  stand. 
The  next  pair  of  gallows  thou  comst  to 
thou  must  turn  up  [on]  thy  right  hand.' 


1/^ 


7  *  That  is  not  the  way,'  then  said  our  king, 

*  the  ready  way  I  pray  thee  shew  me  ; '  ^ 
'Whether  thou  be  thief  or  true  man,'  quoth 

the  tanner, 

*  I  'm  weary  of  thy  company. 

8  *  Away,  with  a  vengeance,'  quoth  the  tanner, 

'  I  hold  thee  out  of  thy  wit,  '? 

For  all  this  day  have  I  ridden  and  gone, 
And  I  am  fasting  yet.' 

9  'Go  with  me  to  Drayton   Basset,'  said   our 

king, 

*  no  daintyes  we  will  lack  ;  S 

Geata  Romanorum,  cap.  56, 1,  87,  Anhang,  No  16,  IT,  198 ; 
Othonis  Melandri  loco-Seria,  No  338,  p.  292,  ed.  Frankfort, 
1617.  In  four  of  these  cases  the  noble  person  loses  his  way, 
and  has  to  seek  hospitality.  In  Deutsche  Sagen,  No  566, 
we  have  a  charcoal-burner  who  relieves  a  prince's  hunger 
and  is  afterwards  entertained  at  the  prince's  table. 


73 


V^ 


76 


273.    KING  EDWARD  THE  FOURTH  AND  A  TANNER  OP  TAMWORTH 


We  '1  have  meat  and  drink  of  the  best, 
And  I  will  pay  the  shot.'  "3 

10  *  Godamercy  for  nothing,'  said  the  tanner, 

'  thou  shalt  pay  for  no  dinner  of  mine ;  "^  >3 
I  have  more  groats  and  nobles  in  my  purse 
then  thou  hast  pence  in  thine.'  3 

11  '  God  save  your  goods,'  then  said  the  king, 

'  and  send  them  well  to  thee  ! '  3 

*  Be  thou  thief  or  true  man,'  quoth  the  tanner, 

*  I  am  weary  of  thy  company.  */  /3 

12  '  Away,  with  a  vengeance,'  quoth  the  tanner, 

'  of  thee  I  stand  in  fear ;  3 

The  aparrell  thou  wearst  on  thy  back 

May  seem  a  good  lord  to  wear.'  3 

13  '  I  never  stole  them,'  said  our  king, 

*  I  swear  to  thee  by  the  rood  ; '  ^ 
'  Thou  art  some  ruffian  of  the  country, 

thou  rid'st  in  the  midst  of  thy  good.'  3 

14  *  What  news  dost  thou  hear  ?  '  then  said  our 

king, 

*  I  pray  what  news  do  you  hear  ?  *        3 

*  I  hear  no  news,'  answered  the  tanner, 

'  but  that  cow-hides  be  dear.'  3 

15  '  Cow-hides  ?  cow-hides  ? '  then  said  our  king, 

'  I  marvell  what  they  be  ; '  ^ 

*  Why,  art  thou  a  fool  ? '  quoth  the  tanner, 

^  look,  I  have  one  under  me.'  "3 

16  '  Yet  one  thing  now  I  would  thee  pray, 

so  that  thou  wouldst  not  be  strange  ;     ^ 
K  thy  mare  be  better  then  my  steed, 

I  pray  thee  let  us  change.'  3 

17  '  But  if  you  needs  with  me  will  change. 

As  change  full  well  may  ye,  ^ 

By  the  faith  of  my  body,'  quoth  the  tanner, 

*  I  look  to  have  boot  of  thee.'  -^ 


*  I  love  thee  better  then  I  did  before, 

I  thought  thou  hadst  nere  a  peny.  i 

20  '  But  if  so  be  we  needs  must  change, 

as  change  thou  must  abide,  3 

Though  thou  hast  gotten  Brock  my  mare, 
thou  shalt  not  have  my  cow-hide.'  3 

21  The  tanner  took  the  good  cow-hide, 

that  of  the  cow  was  hilt,  ^ 

And  threw  it  upon  the  king's  saddle. 
That  was  so  fairly  guilt. 

22  '  Now  help  me,  help  me,'  quoth  the  tanner, 

'  Full  quickly  that  I  were  gone,  3 

For  when  I  come  home  to  Gillian  my  wife 
she  '1  say  I  'm  a  gentleman.'  7 

23  The  king  took  the  tanner  by  the  leg, 

he  girded  a  fart  so  round  ;  ' 

*  You  'r  very  homely,'  said  the  king, 

*were  I  aware,  I  'd  laid  you  o  th'  ground.' 

24  But  when  the  tanner  was  in  the  king's  saddle 

astongd  then  he  was  ;  3 

He  knew  not  the  stirrops  that  he  did  wear, 
whether  they  were  gold  or  brass. 

25  But  when  the  steed  saw  the  black  cow-tale  wag, 

for  and  the  black  cow-horn,  3 

The  steed  began  to  run  away, 
as  the  divel  the  tanner  had  born. 

26  Untill  he  came  unto  a  nook, 

3 
a  little  beside  an  ash  ; 

The  steed  gave  the  tanner  such  a  fall 

his  neck  was  almost  brast. 

27  *  Take  thy  horse  again,  with  a  vengeance,'  he 

said, 
*  with  me  he  shall  not  abide  ; '  ^ 

*  It  is  no  marvell,'  said  the  king,  and  laught, 

'  he  knew  not  your  cow-hide. 


*/j 


18  '  What  boot  wilt  thou  ask  ? '   then  said  our       28  '  But  if  that  we  needs  now  must  change, 

king,  as  change  that  well  we  mought,  3 

'  what  boot  dost  thou  ask  on  this  ground  ?  "^(' '         I  'le  swear  to  you  plain,  if  you  have  your  mare^ 
*  No  pence  nor  half-pence,'  said  the  tanner,  I  look  to  have  some  boot.' 

'  but  a  noble  in  gold  so  round.'  ^ 

29  '  What  boot  will  you  ask  ? '  quoth  the  tanner, 

19  '  Here 's   twenty  good   groats,'  then  said  the  '  What  boot  will  you  ask  on  this  ground  ? '  i 

king,  *  No  pence  nor  half-pence,'  said  our  king, 

*  so  well  paid  see  you  be ;  *  ^  *  but  a  noble  in  gold  so  round.' 


273.    KING  EDWARD  THE  FOURTH  AND  A  TANNER  OF  TAMWORTH 


77 


30  •  Here  's  twenty  [good]  groats,'  said  the  tanner, 

*  and  twenty  more  I  have  of  thine  ;        "^ 
I  have  ten  groats  more  in  my  purse, 

we  '1  drink  five  of  them  at  the  wine.'  3 

31  The  king  set  a  bugle-home  to  his  mouth, 

that  blew  both  loud  and  shrill,  ^ 

And  five  hundred  lords  and  knights 

came  riding  over  a  hill.  ^ 

32  ^  Away,  with  a  vengeance,'  quoth  the  tanner, 

'  with  thee  I  'le  no  longer  abide ;  *' :? 

Thou  art  a  strong  thief,  yonder  be  thy  fellows, 
they  will  steal  away  my  cow-hide.'  "3 

33  *  No,  I  protest,'  then  said  our  king, 

'  for  so  it  may  not  be  ;  ^ 

They  be  the  lords  of  Drayton  Basset, 

come  out  of  the  North  Country.'  "3 

34  But  when  they  came  before  the  king 

full  low  they  fell  on  their  knee  ;  -' 

The  tanner  had  rather  then  a  thousand  pound 
he  had  been  out  of  his  company.  ^     , 


35  '  A  coller  !  a  coller !  '  then  said  the  king, 

'  a  coller  ! '  then  did  he  cry  ;  ^ 

Then  would  he  have  given  a  thousand  pound 

he  had  not  been  so  nigh.  '' 

36  *  A  coller  ?  a  coller  ?  '  then  quoth  the  tanner, 

'  it  is  a  thing  which  will  breed  sorrow  ;        ^/ ' 
For  after  a  coller  commeth  a  halter, 

and  I  shall  be  hanged  tomorrow.'  ^ 

37  '  No,  do  not  fear,'  the  king  did  say  ; 

'  for  pastime  thou  hast  shown  me,  3 

No  coller  nor  halter  thou  shalt  have, 

but  I  wiU.  give  thee  a  fee.  '' 

38  '  For  Plompton  Park  I  will  give  thee, 

with  tenements  three  beside,  ^ 

Which  is  worth  three  hundred  pound  a  year, 

to  maintain  thy  good  cow-hide.'  -' 

39  *  Grodamercy,  Godamercy,'  quoth  the  tanner ; 

*  for  this  good  deed  thou  hast  done,  3 

If  ever  thou  comest  to  merry  Tamworth, 
thou   shalt  have    clouting-leather   for   thy 
shone.' 


a,  b.  A  pleasant  new  ballad  of  King  Edward  the 
Fourth  and  a  Tanner  of  Tamworth,  as  he 
rode  a  hunting  with  his  nobles  towards  (b, 

V        to)  Drayton  Bas8[et].    To  an  excellent  new 

^      tune. 

a.  Printed  for  F.  Coles,  T.  Vere,  and  "W.  Gil- 

bertson. 

b.  London,  printed  for  F.  Coles,  T.  Vere,  and 

J.  Wright. 

c.  A  pleasant  new  baUad  betweene  King  Edward 

the  Fourth  and  a  Tanner  of  Tamworth,  as 
hee  rode  upon  a  time  with  his  nobles  on 
hunting  towards  Drayton  Basset.  .  .  .  Lon- 
don, Printed  by  A.  M.  {probably  Alexander 
Milboume,  1670-97). 

a.  1^  grow.     1\  birds  sitting.     V,  36^  qd. 
8»,  37*.  the.     13*.  of  the. 

18'.  no  half  pence  said  our  king. 

20*.  shalt  noo.     23'.  guirded.     29'^.  in  this. 

29*.  gould.     308.  groat. 

35^.  A  choller,  a  coller. 

352,  36i>8,  378.  choller.    38'.  besides. 

b.  1^.  grow.     I'',  birds  were  singing. 

2^.  he  wanting.    ^\  to  his.     6*.  up  on. 


18". 
19^ 
21«. 
22«. 


7".  be  a :  or  a.    11*.  said  our.    13*.  the  wood. 
14'.  pray  thee :  dost  thou.     16^  would. 
17^  if  thou.     17*.  have  some  boot. 
18^  boot  will  you  have. 

nor  half  pence  said  the  tanner. 

said  our.     19'.  see  thou.     20*.  not  have. 

o£E.     22^.  Now  help  me  up,  quoth. 

For  wanting.    23'.  guirded.    23*.  I  had. 
24^.  But  wanting.     24'.  astonished, 
25'.  and  before  the.     26\  into.     26'.  an  oak. 
26*.  almost  broke.     28^  now  wanting. 
28'.  change  well  now  we  might.    29'.  on  this. 
30^  twenty  good.   30*.  groats.    34*.  he  gave  a. 
35^'',  36i'«,  37«.  collar.     36^  then  wanting. 
36'.  which  wanting.    38'.  beside. 
39*.  clout-leather. 
C.  1^  grew.     1'.  birds  sitting.     2*.  come. 
4^.  good  my  lords.    6*.  pray  you  shew  it  to. 
6*.  ready  wanting.     6'.  this  way. 
6*.  upon  the  left.    7'.  readiest. 
8'.  all  wanting.    9*.  For  wee  '1.     9*.  for  the. 
10^  quoth  the.    11^  our  king.    ll*.  said  the. 
13'.  to  you.     13*.  of  thy.     14^  doe  you. 
16^  thing  of  thee  I.     16'.  would. 


78 


373.    KING  EDWARD  THE  FOURTH  AND  A  TANNER  OF  TAMWORTH 


pray  you.     17^.  thou  needs :  wilt, 
the  king.     18'.  wilt  thou, 
nor  half  pence  said  the  tanner, 
see  that  you.     20^.  we  must  needs, 
we  must.     20*.  not  have.     21^.  he  tooke. 
helpe,  helpe  me  up.     23'.  girded, 
then  said.     23*.  I  'de  a  laid, 
that  he. 

28^.  wee  must  needs  now  change  here. 
28*.  well  that  we  mote.     28*.  I  doe  looke. 
wilt  thou.     29'.  wilt  thou :  on  this, 
said  the.     29*.  but  in  gold  twenty  pound, 
twenty  groats.     30'.  I  had.     30^.  groats. 
Then  five.     34'.  a  hundred, 
of  their.     351-',  36^''^,  37«.  coUer. 
that  he  did  cry.     36^.  then  wanting. 
that  is  a  thing  will.     38^  will  thee  give, 
with  the :  beside.     38'.  five  hundred. 
The  Pepys  copywas  printed  for  J.  W  [right], 
J.  C[larke],  W.  T[hackeray],  and  T.  P[as- 
singer].     Euing,  No  273,  for  F.  Coles,  T. 
Vere,  J.  Wright,  and  J.'  Clarke ;  No  274, 
for  F.  Coles,  T.  Vere,  and  W.  Gilbertson 
(as  a).    Heber's  copy  for  F.  Coles  (1646- 
74). 


16* 
1S\ 
18« 
19', 
20', 
22^ 
23», 
24' 


29^ 
29«. 
30^. 
318. 
34*. 
35'. 
36', 
38'. 


APPENDIX 


THE  KING  AND  THE  BAEKER 

Library  of  the  University  of  Cambridge,  MS.  Ee. 
iv,  35.  1,  fol.  19  b.  Written  mostly  in  couplets  of 
long  lines,  sometimes  in  stanzas  of  four  short  lines, 
with  omissions,  transpositions,  and  other  faults. 

It  will  be  observed  that  neither  in  this  tale  nor 
in  the  "  history  "  which  follows  does  the  tanner  be- 
come aware  that  he  has  been  dealing  with  "our 
kyng."  In  both  he  calls  the  king  "  good  fellow  " 
to  the  very  last.  What  happens  at  the  meeting 
with  Lord  Basset,  30,  is  not  made  quite  intelligible. 
It  must  be  that  Lord  Basset  and  his  men  fall  on 
their  knees,  but  the  conviction  that  "  this  "  is  the 
king  seems  to  make  no  great  difference  in  the  tan- 
ner's bearing. 

1  Well  yow  here  a  god  borde 
to  make  yow  all  low, 


How  bet  £fell  apon  a  tyme, 
or  eney  man  het  know  ? 

2  The  kyng  rod  a  hontyng, 

as  fat  tyme  was  ; 
Ffor  to  hont  a  dere 

Y  trow  hes  hope  was. 

3  As  he  rode,  he  houer- 

toke  yn  the  wey 
A  tannar  o£E  Dantre, 
yn  a  queynte  araye. 

4  Blake  kow-heydes  sat  he  apon, 

the  hornys  heyng  be  seyde  ; 
The  kyng  low  and  had  god  game 
to  se  the  tannar  reyde. 

5  Howre  kyng  bad  hes  men  abeyde, 

and  he  welde  sper  of  hem  the  wey; 
'  Y£fe  Y  may  here  eney  now  tythyng, 

Y  schall  het  to  yow  saye.* 

6  Howre  kyng  prekyd  and  seyde^ 

Ser,  Grod  the  saffe ! 
The  tannar  seyde, 
Well  mot  yow  ffare  I 

7  *  God  ffellow,'  seyde  yowre  kyng, 

*  offe  on  thyng  Y  J»e  pray ; 
To  Drayton  Baset  well  Y  reyde, 

wyche  ys  the  wey  ?  ' 

8  «  That  can  Y  tell  the 

ffro  hens  f>at  Y  stonde  ; 
When  J?ow  comest  to  the  galow-tre, 
tome  vpon  J>e  lyft  honde.' 

9  *  Gramercy,  ffellow,'  seyde  owrg  kyng, 

*  wit^owtyn  eney  wone, 

I  schall  prey  the  lord  Baset 
thanke  the  sone. 

10  *  God  flTellow,'  seyde  owrckyng, 

'  reyde  Jjow  vfith  me 
Tell  Y  com  to  Drayton  Baset, 
Now  Y  het  se.' 

11  '  Nay,  be  mey  ffeyt,' 

seyde  the  barker  thoo, 
•  Thow  may  sey  Y  were  a  ffole, 
and  Y  dyd  so. 

12  '  I  hast  yn  mey  wey  as  well 

as  J»ow  hast  yn  theyne  ; 
Reyde  fforthe  and  seke  they  wey  ; 
pi  hors  ys  better  nar  meyne.' 


273.    KING  EDWARD  THE  FOURTH  AND  A  TANNER  OF  TAMWORTH 


79 


13  The  tanner  seyde, 

What  maner  man  ar  ye  ? 

♦  A  preker  abowt,'  seyd  ye  kyng, 

'  yn  maney  a  contre.' 

14  Than  spake  the  tanner, 

ffoU  scrodeley  ayen  ; 

Y  had  a  brother  vowsed  the  same, 
tell  he  cowde  never  the[n]. 

15  Than  yowre  kyng 

smotley  gan  smeyle  : 

*  Y  prey  the,  ffelow, 

reyde  vrith  me  a  meyle.' 

16  '  What,  devell  ! '  qwod  the  tanner, 

*  art  J»ou  owt  oflf  they  wet  ? 

Y  most  hom  to  mey  deynere, 
ffor  I  am  ffastyng  yet.' 

17  *  Good  ffelow,'  seyde  owre  kyng, 

*  Carg  ]>e  not  ffor  no  mete  ; 

"pou  schalt  haffe  mete  ynow  to  neyjt, 
and  yeffe  fou  welt  ette.' 

18  The  tanner  toke  gret  skorne  of  hem, 

and  sware  be  Creystys  pyne, 

Y  trow  Y  hafe  more  money  yn  mey  pors 
nar  thow  hast  yn  theyne. 

19  *  Wenest  thow  Y  well  be  owt  on  neyjt  ? 

nay,  and  God  beffore  ; 
Was  Y  neuer  owt  a-neyt 
sen  Y  was  bore.' 

20  The  tanner  lokyd  a  bake  tho  ; 

the  heydes  began  to  ffall  ; 
He  was  war  of  the  keynges  men, 
where  they  cam  reydyng  all. 

21  Thes  ys  a  theffe,  thowt  the  tanner, 

Y  prey  to  God  geffe  hem  care ; 
He  well  haffe  mey  hors,  mey  heydes, 
and  all  mey  chaffare. 

22  *  Ffor  ffeleyschepe,'  seyde  the  tannar, 

'  y[e]t  well  Y  reyde  -with  the  ; 

Y  wot,  ware  Y  mete  with  the  affterward, 
thow  mast  do  as  meche  ffor  me.* 

23  '  God  amar[sey],'  seyde  owrc  kyng, 

*  witAowt  eney  wone, 

Y  schall  prey  }?e  lord  Baset 
to  thanke  the  sone.' 

24  Owre  kyng  seyde.  What  now  tydyng 

herest  [fou]  as  J»ou  [dost]  ryd? 
I  wolde  ffayne  wot, 

ffor  J70w  reydest  weyde. 


25  *  Y  know  [no]  now  teytheyng,'  fe  tanner  seyde, 

herke  and  ]>ou  schalt  here ; 
Off  al  the  chaffar  that  Y  know, 
kow-heydys  beyt  dere.' 

26  Owre  keyng  seyde,  On  theyng 

on  mey  loffe  Y  the  prey  ; 
What  herest  sey  be  the  lord  Baset 
yn  thes  contrey  ? 

27  *  I  know  hem  not,'  seyde  the  tanner, 

'  with  hem  Y  hafe  lytyll  to  don  ; 
Wolde  he  neuer  bey  of  me 
clot-lether  to  clowt  with  schon.' 

28  Howre  kyng  seyde,  Y  loffe  the  well, 

of  on  thyng  I  }>e  praye  ; 
Thow  hast  harde  hes  servantes  speke, 
what  wolde  fey  saye? 

29  *  Ye,  ffor  God,'  seyde  the  tanner, 

*  \>at  tell  Y  can  ; 
Thay  sey  thay  leke  hem  well, 
ffor  he  ys  a  god  man.' 

30  Thos  they  reyd  together  taJkyng, 

for  soyt  Y  yow  tell. 
Tell  he  met  }>e  lord  Baset ; 
on  kneys  downe  fey  ffell. 

31  Alas,  the  tanner  thowt, 

the  kyng  Y  leue  thes  be ; 
Y  schall  be  honged,  well  Y  wot, 
at  men  may  me  se. 

32  He  had  no  meynde  of  his  hode  nor  cape 

nere  a  dell  [more], 
Al  ffor  drede  off  hes  leyffe 
he  wende  to  haffe  lore. 

S3  The  tanner  wolde  a  stole  awey, 
whyle  he  began  to  speke ; 
Howre  kyng  had  yever  an  ey  on  hem, 
that  he  meyt  not  skape. 

34  *  God  ffelow',  seyd  owre  kyng, 

'  with  me  thow  most  abeyde, 
Ffor  ]«)w  and  Y 
most  an  hontyng  reyde.' 

35  Whan  they  com  to  Kyng  Chas, 

meche  game  fey  saye  ; 
Howre  kyng  seyde,  Ffelow,  what  schall  Y  do, 
my  hors  ys  so  hey  ? 

36  *  God  ffelow,'  [seyde  owre  kyng,] 

lend  f  ow  me  theyne, 


and  hafe  here  meyne.' 


80 


273.  KING  EDWARD  THE  FOURTH  AND  A  TANNER  OF  TAM  WORTH 


37  Tho  the  tannar  leyt  do[w]ne 

and  cast  a  downe  hes  heydys  ; 
Howre  kyng  was  yn  hes  sadell, 
no  leyngger  he  beydes. 

88  Alas,  feyn  the  tanner  thowt, 

■yrith  mey  hors  he  well  reyde  awey  ; 
Y  well  after, 
to  get  hem  and  Y  may. 

89  He  welde  not  leffe  his  heydys  beheynde 

ffor  no  theyng    .     .     . ; 
He  cast  them  yn  the  kynges  schadyll ; 
"pat  was  a  neys  seyte. 

40  }>o  he  sat  aboffe  them, 

as  Y  [y]ouw  saye, 
He  prekyd  £East  after, 
and  ffond  fe  redey  wey. 

41  The  hors  lokyd  abowt  hem, 

and  sey  on  eugry  seyde 


the  kow-hornes  blake  and  wheyte. 

42  The  hors  went  he  had  bore 

J»e  deuell  on  hes  bake  ; 
The  hors  prekyd  as  he  was  wode, 
het  mestoret  to  spor  hem  not. 

43  The  barker  cleynt  on  hem  ffast, 

he  was  sore  afferde  ffor  to  fEall ; 


49  '  Y  bescro  the  same  son,' 

seyde  the  barker  tho, 
*  pat  seche  a  bord  welde  haffe 
to  se  hes  dame  so  wo.' 

50  When  her  hontyng  was  ydo, 

fey  changyd  hors  agen  ; 
]?o  the  barker  had  hes  howyn, 
feyrof  he  was  flfayne. 

61  '  Grod  a  marsey,'  seyd  owre  kyng, 
*  of  J>ey  serueyse  to  daye  ; 
Yeffe  thow  hafe  awt  to  do  -with  me, 
or  owt  to  saye, 

52  *  They  ffrende  schall  Y  yeffor  be, 
Be  God  [Jjat]  ys  bet  on  ; 


53  *  God  a  marsey,'  seyde  fe  barker  po, 

*  thow  semyst  a  ffelow  god ; 
Yeffe  Y  met  the  yn  Dantre, 

Jjow  schalt  dreynke,  be  [J»e]  rode.' 

54  *  Be  mey  ffeyt,'  seyde  owre  kyng, 

*  or  els  were  Y  to  blame, 
Yeffe  Y  met  the  yn  Lecheffelde, 

J>ow  schalt  hafe  the  same.* 

55  J?us  they  rode  talkyng  togeder 

to  Drayton  Hall ; 
Tho  the  barker  toke  hes  leffe 
of  the  lordes  alL 


44  The  kyng  lowhe  [and  had  gode  game,] 

and  was  glad  to  ffoUow  fe  chas ; 
Lest  J»e  tanner  wolde  here  hem  downe 
yette  he  was  agast. 

45  The  hors  sped  hem  sweythyli, 

he  sped  hem  wonderley  ffast ; 
Ayen  a  bow  of  an  oke 
the  tanneres  hed  he  brast. 

46  With  a  stombellyng  as  he  rode, 

fe  tanner  downe  he  cast ; 
The  kyng  lowhe  and  had  god  game, 
and  seyde,  Ser,  pou  rydyst  to  ffast. 

47  The  kyng  lowhe  and  had  god  game, 

and  sware  be  Sent  John, 
Seche  another  horsman 
say  Y  neuere  none. 

48  Owre  kyng  lowhe  and  had  god  bord, 

and  sware  be  Sent  Jame, 
Y  most  nedys  lawhe, 
and  thow  were  mey  dame. 


56  Owre  kyng  comand  fe  barker 

yn  that  tyde 
A  c.  s'.  yn  hes  pors, 
to  mend  hes  kow-heydys. 

57  There  owre  kyng  and  the  barker 

partyd  ffeyre  atwyn  ; 
Grod  fat  set  yn  heffen  so  hey 
breyng  os  owt  of  sen  ! 

Explycyt  fe  Kyng  and  the  Barker. 

la.  lawhe  all.     For  low,  cf.  4^;  lowhe,  44*,  46«, 

471,  481. 
6*.  ffare.     Read,  perhaps,  with  rhyme,  haffe. 
71,  15^.  yowre  =  owre  :  cf.  yever,  yeffor,  33*,  52*. 
92.  eney  woyt  :  see  232.     9*.  they. 
111.  be  meyt;  cf.  54^.    12i.  I  haffe  hast  ? 
141,  251,  311,  331^  371^  381,  462.  thanner,  thannar 

{the  th  caught  from  the  preceding  the). 
148.  yow  (^struck  through)  vowsed  (that  is,  used). 
192.  be  ffore.     22^.  ynot:  methe. 
25^.  no  has  been  inserted  because  it  occurs  in  the 


273.    KING  EDWARD  THE  FOURTH   AND  A  TANNER  OF  TAMWORTH 


81 


other  versions,  but  now  (new),  simply,  makes  some 

sense. 
262.  as  mey.     Perhaps,  as  thow  me  loffe. 
27*.  schoys.     282.  of  j. 
84^.2.  God  flPelow  ytith  me  thow  most  abeyde  seyd 

owre  kyng. 
382.  jie  vrell  reyde  awey  -with  mey  hors. 

391.  le  leffe. 

392.  Words  seem  to  have  dropped  out  at  the  end. 
42.  The  rhyme  might  be  restored  thus: 

The  hors  went  the  deuell 

on  hes  bake  he  had  bore  ; 
The  hors  prekyd  as  he  was  wode, 

het  mestoret  not  hem  to  spor. 

44^*.  yeffe  he  was  agast  lest  }>e  tanner  wolde  here 

hem  downe. 
45^  a  noke.     45*.  thanneres  :  barst. 
482.  Jane.    488.  nedyst.     50*.  of  ffayne. 
55^.  to  gederfE. 


n 


KING  EDWARD  THE  FOURTH  AND  A  TAN- 
NER OF  TAMWORTH 

A  merrie,  pleasaut  and  delectable  Historie,  betweene  King 
Edward  the  Fourth  and  a  Tanner  of  Tamworth,  etc. 

a.  London,  John  Danter,  1596,  Bodleian  Library,  4°, 
C.  39.  Art.  Seld.  b.  London,  W.  White,  1613,  Corpus 
Christ!  College  Library,  X.  G.  2.  11.  4th  tract. 

1  In  summer-time,  when  leaues  grou  greene, 

and  blossoms  bud  on  euery  tree, 
King  Edward  would  a  hunting  ride, 
some  pastime  for  to  see. 

2  With  hawke  and  hound  he  made  him  bound, 

with  borne  and  eke  with  bow ; 
Toward  Drayton  Basset  he  tooke  his  way, 
whosoeuer  doth  it  know. 


6  The  tanner  came  singing  on  his  mare, 

with  one  so  merry  a  note ; 
He  sung  out  of  tune,  he  was  past  care, 
he  had  no  neede  to  grease  his  throte. 

7  *  Stand  you  here  still,  my  lordes  now, 

vnder  the  greene  wood  spray, 
And  I  will  ride  to  yonder  fellow, 
to  wit  what  he  will  say. 

8  '  Grod  speede,  good  fellow,'  said  our  king  ; 

'  thou  art  welcom,  sir,'  quoth  he ; 
'  Which  is  the  way  to  Drayton  Basset, 
I  pray  thee  tell  to  me.' 

9  «  Marry,  that  I  will,'  quoth  the  tanner, 

*  right  as  here  I  stand  ; 

The  next  paire  of  gallows  that  thou  comes  to, 
turne  in  vpon  thy  right  hand.' 

10  *  It  is  an  vnready  way,'  said  our  king, 

*  I  tell  you,  so  mote  I  thee  ; 

I  pray  you  show  me  the  readiest  way 
the  towne  that  I  may  see.' 

11  *  Go  play  the  great  jauel ! '  quoth  the  tanner, 

'  I  hold  thee  out  of  thy  wit ; 
All  day  haue  I  ridden  on  Brocke,  my  mare, 
and  I  am  fasting  yet. ' 

12  *  Why,  we  will  to  the  towne,'  said  our  king, 

*  and  of  dainties  [we  will  none  lacke]  ; 
We  will  eate  and  drinke  and  fare  of  the  best, 

and  I  will  pay  for  the  shot.' 

13  '  Grod  haue  mercy  for  nothing,'  quoth  the  tanner, 

*  thou  palest  for  none  of  mine. 

For  I  haue  as  many  nobles  in  my  purse 
as  thou  hast  pence  in  thine.' 

14  '  God  giue  you  ioy  of  yours,'  said  our  king, 

*  and  send  thee  well  to  priefe  ; ' 

The  tanner  would  faine  haue  beene  away, 
for  he  wend  he  had  beene  a  thief e. 


3  But  as  our  king  on  his  way  rode  forth, 

by  eight  a  clocke  of  the  day, 
He  was  ware  of  a  tanner  of  mery  Tamworth, 
was  in  a  quaint  aray. 

4  A  good  russet  coat  the  tanner  had  on, 

he  thought  it  mickle  pride  ; 
He  rode  on  a  mare  cost  foure  shillings, 
and  vnder  him  a  good  cow-hide. 

5  A  paire  of  rough  mittens  the  tanner  did  weare, 

his  hood  was  buckled  vnder  his  chin ; 
*  Yonder  comes  a  good  fellow,*  said  our  king, 
*  that  cares  not  whether  he  lose  or  win.' 

VOL.  V.  11 


15  *  What  art  thou,  good  fellow? '  quoth  the  tanner, 

*  of  thee  I  am  in  great  feare. 

For  the  clothes  that  thou  wearest  on  thy  back 
are  not  for  a  lord  to  weare.' 

16  *  I  neuer  stole  them,'  said  our  king, 

'  I  tell  you,  sir,  by  the  rood ; ' 

*  No,  thou  plaiest  as  many  an  vnthrif  t  doth, 

thou  standst  in  the  mids  of  thy  good.' 

17  *  What  tidings  heare  you,*  said  our  king, 

*  as  you  ride  farre  and  neare? ' 

*  I  heare  no  tidings,'  quoth  the  tanner, 

'  but  that  cow-hides  are  deare.' 


82 


273.     KING  EDWARD   THE  FOURTH  AND  A  TANNER  OP  TAMWORTH 


18  'Cow-hides?  cow-hides?  '  then  said  our  king, 

'  I  know  not  what  they  be  ; ' 
*Lo,  here  thou  maist  see  one;'  quoth  the  tanner, 

*  here  lyeth  one  vnder  me. 

19  *  Knowst  thou  not  a  cow-hide,'  quoth  the  tanner, 

*  and  hast  gone  so  long  to  schoole  ? 

If  euer  thou  come  to  dwell  in  the  country, 
thou  wilt  be  made  a  foole.' 

20  '  What  craftsman  are  you?  *  said  our  king, 

*  I  pray  you  tell  me  now  ; ' 

'  I  am  a  barker,'  quoth  the  tanner, 
['  What  craftsman  art  thou?  '] 

21  *  I  am  a  courtier,'  said  our  king, 

*  forth  of  seruice  I  am  worne  ; 

Full  faine  I  would  be  your  prentise,'  he  said, 

*  your  cunning  for  to  learne.' 

22  '  Marrie,  God  forbid,'  quoth  the  tanner, 

*  that  such  a  prentise  I  should  haue  ; 
He  wold  spend  me  more  than  he  would  get 

by  fortie  shillings  a  yere.' 

23  *  One  thing  would  I  wit,'  said  our  king, 

*  if  you  will  not  seeme  strange; 

Thou  my  horse  be  better  than  your  mare, 
with  you  faine  would  I  change.* 

24  '  Nay,  there  thou  liest  yet,'  quoth  the  tanner, 

*by  Christ,  thou  shalt  abide  ; 
For,  if  thou  haue  Brocke,  my  mare, 
thou  gets  not  my  good  cow-hide.  * 

25  ♦  I  will  not  haue  it,'  said  our  king, 

*  I  tell  thee,  so  mote  I  thee ; 
I  will  not  carrie  it  away 

though  you  would  giue  it  me.* 

26  *  Why,  then  we  must  change,'  quoth  the  tanner, 

*  as  needs  me  thinke  thou  woot ; 
But  if  you  haue  Brocke,  my  mare, 

I  wiU  looke  to  haue  some  boote.' 


30  *  What  boot  will  you  haue  ? '  then  said  our  king, 

*  tell  me  now  in  this  tide  ; ' 

*Neuer  a  single  pennie,'  quoth  the  tanner, 
'  but  a  noble  of  gold  so  red.' 

31  '  Why,  there  is  your  noble,'  said  our  king, 

*  well  paid  looke  that  you  be  ; ' 

*  I  would  haue  sworne  on  a  book,'  quoth  the  tanner, 

*  thou  hadst  not  one  pennie.' 

32  Now  hath  the  king  the  tanner's  mare, 

she  is  nothing  faire,  fat  nor  round, 
And  the  tanner  hath  the  king's  good  steede, 
the  saddle  is  worth  fortie  pound. 

33  The  tanner  tooke  vp  the  good  cowhide, 

off  the  ground  where  he  stood, 

He  threw  it  vpon  the  king's  steede, 

in  the  saddle  that  was  so  good. 

34  The  steed  stared  vpon  the  homes, 

vnder  the  greene  wood  spraie  ; 
He  had  weende  the  diuell  of  hell  had  bin  come, 
to  carrie  him  thence  away. 

35  The  tanner  looked  as  fast  on  the  stirrops, 

astonied  sore  he  was  ; 
He  meruailed  greatly  in  his  minde 
whether  they  were  gold  or  bras. 

36  '  Help  me  [vp],  good  fellow,'  quoth  the  tanner, 

'  lightly  that  I  were  gone  ; 
My  wife  and  my  neighbours  more  and  lesse 
will  say  I  am  a  gentleman.' 

87  The  king  tooke  the  tanner  by  the  leg, 
and  lift  him  vp  a  loft ; 
The  tanner  girded  out  a  good  round  fart, 
his  belly  it  was  so  soft. 

38  *  You  make  great  waste,*  said  our  king, 
'  your  curtesie  is  but  small ; ' 
Thy  horse  is  so  high,'  quoth  the  tanner  againe, 

*  I  f eare  me  of  a  fall.' 


27  '  That  were  against  reason,'  said  our  king, 

*  I  tell  you,  so  mote  I  thee  ; 

My  horse  is  much  better  than  your  mare, 
and  that  you  may  well  see.' 

28  •  Avise  a  vous  now,'  sayd  the  tanner, 

*  whether  thou  wilt  or  no. 

For  my  mare  is  gentle  and  will  not  kicke, 
but  sof  tlie  she  will  go. 

29  *  And  thy  horse  is  vnhappie  and  vnwieldie, 

[and  will  neuer  goe  in  rest,] 
But  alwaies  skipping  here  and  there, 
and  therefore  my  mare  is  best.' 


39  But  when  the  tanner  was  in  the  saddle 

the  steede  began  to  blow  and  blast. 
And  against  the  roote  of  an  old  tree 
the  tanner  downe  he  cast. 

40  *  Abide,  good  fellow,'  said  our  king, 

*  ye  make  ouer  great  hast ;  * 
'Thou  shalt  haue  thy  horse,  with  a  vengeance, 
againe, 
for  my  necke  is  well  nigh  brast.* 

41  *  Why  then  we  must  change,'  said  our  king, 

<  as  me  thinke  needs  thou  woot ; 


273.     KING  EDWARD  THE  FOURTH  AND  A  TANNER  OF  TAMWORTH 


83 


But  if  you  haue  your  mare  againe 
I  will  looke  to  haue  some  boote.' 

42  'What  boote  wilt  thou  haue?  '  quoth  the  tanner, 

'  tell  me  in  this  stound  ; 

*  Neuer  a  groat  nor  pennie,'  said  our  king, 

*  but  of  thy  gold  twentie  pound.' 

43  '  Nay,  here  is  thy  noble,'  quoth  the  tanner  again, 

*  and  Christ's  blessing  and  mine  ; 

*  Yea,  here  is  twentie  good  groats  more, 

goe  drinke  them  at  the  wine.' 

44  *  So  mote  I  thee,'  then  said  our  king, 

*  it  shall  not  slacke  my  woe  ; 
For  when  a  noble  is  in  small  monie 

full  soone  it  is  agoe.' 

45  '  Dost  thou  loue  to  keepe  gold  ? '  quoth  the  tanner, 

the  king  answered  and  said,  Ye ; 

*  Then  I  would  thou  were  my  neere  kinsman, 

for  I  thinke  thou  wilt  thriue  and  thee.* 

46  Now  hath  the  tanner  Brocke,  his  mare, 

and  vnder  him  his  good  cowhide. 
Our  noble  king  his  horse  againe, 
which  was  a  well  faire  steede. 

47  *  Now  farewell,  good  fellow,*  quoth  the  tanner, 

'  I  will  bide  no  longer  with  thee  ; ' 

*  Tarrie  yet  a  little  while,'  said  our  king, 

*  and  some  pastime  we  will  see.' 

48  Our  king  set  a  bugle  to  his  mouth, 

and  blew  a  blast  lowd  and  small ; 
Seuen  score  lords,  knights,  squires  and  yeomen 
came  riding  ouer  a  dale. 

49  *  Now  out  alas  ! '  quoth  the  tanner, 

*  that  euer  I  saw  this  tide  ; 

Thou  art  a  strong  thiefe,  yonder  be  thy  fellowes, 
will  haue  my  mare  and  my  cowhide.' 

50  '  They  are  no  theeues,'  then  said  our  king, 

*  I  tell  you,  80  mote  I  thee ; 
It  is  my  lord  of  Drayton  Basset 

is  come  a  hunting  to  me.' 

51  But  when  before  the  king  they  came, 

they  fell  downe  on  their  knees  ; 
The  tanner  had  leuer  than  a  thousand  pound 
he  had  beene  from  their  companies. 

62  *  A  coller !  a  coUer ! '  our  king  gan  call, 
quoth  the  tanner,  It  will  breede  sorrow  ; 
For  after  a  coller  corameth  a  halter, 
I  trow  I  shall  be  hangd  tomorrow. 


53  •  Be  not  afraid,  tanner,'  said  our  king, 

'  I  tell  thee,  so  mote  I  thee  ; 
Lo,  here  I  make  thee  the  best  esquier 
in  all  the  North  Countrie. 

54  *  And  Plumton  Parke  I  will  giue  thee, 

and  lacie  in  [t]his  tide  — 
It  is  worth  three  hundred  pounds  by  yeare  — 
to  prepare  thy  good  cowhide.' 

55  *  God  a  mercie,  good  fellow,'  quoth  the  tanner, 

*  for  this  that  thou  hast  done  ; 
The  next  time  thou  comest  to  Tamworth  town, 
thou  shalt  haue  clouting-leather  for  thy  shon.' 

56  Now  God  aboue  speed  well  the  plough, 

and  keepe  vs  from  care  and  woe, 
Vntill  euerie  tanner  in  [t]his  countrie 
[doe  ride  a  hunting  so.] 

A  merrie,  pleasant  and  delectable  Historic,  be- 
tvveene  King  Edward  the  fourth  and  a  Tanner 
of  Tamworth,  as  he  rode  vpon  a  time  with  his 
nobles  a  (b,  on)  hunting  toward  Drayton  Basset: 

Verie  pleasant  and  merrie  to  read. 

a.  Printed  at  London  by  John   Danter,  1596.     (8 

pages.) 

b.  At   London,  printed  by   W.  White,    1613.     (8 

pages.) 
b  has  for  a  heading  The  King  and  the  Tanner. 

a.  8*.  quaint  of  aray.     11^.  play  thee. 
12*.  Defect  supplied  from  b. 

20*.  Cut  off;  supplied  from  b. 

262.  thou  wilt.     Cf.  412. 

292,  56*.  Cut  off;  supplied  from  b.     iZ\  quath. 

b.  3^.  as  the.     32.  eight  of  the.     8*.  quaint  of  ray. 
6*.  tanner  he.     7^,  here  wanting.     8*.  tell  it  me. 
9*.  vp  vpon.     102.  so  might.     11^.  play  thee. 
122.  y,Q  y,\\[  none  lacke.     13^.  Godamercy. 

152.  I  stand.     16*.  middes.     18*.  lies. 

198.  thou  happen.     20*.  what  craft-man  art  thou. 

228.  than  I  should.     23^.  I  wish.     232.  thou  wilt. 

23*.  then  thy.     23*.  would  I  faine. 

252,  272,  441,  502.  mought.     25*.  thou  wouldst. 

262.  thinkes  thou  wilt.     268,  if  thou. 

278.  than  thy.     292.  and  will  neuer  goe  in  rest. 

81^.  Why  heere  :  said  the.     318.  would  asworne. 

338.  king's  faire  steed.     352.  gore  that  he. 

36^.  me  up.     388.  go  hie.     40*.  welnie. 

412,  naee  thinkes  :  thou  wilt.    452,  yga.    46*.  wert. 

462.  and  wanting.     472.  ^jn  no  longer  abide. 

482.  and  he.     50^.  then  wanting. 

h\\  when  they  all  before  the  king  came. 

518,  had  rather.     532.  might.     53*.  that  is  in  the. 

542.  Jackie  iffthis.     568.  Till :  in  this. 

56*.  doe  ride  a  hunting  so. 


84 


2T3.    KING  EDWARD  THE  FOURTH  AND  A  TANNER  OF  TAMWORTH 


m 


KING    HENRY    II    AND    THE    MILLER    OF 
MANSFIELD 

a.  'Kinge  and  Miller/  Percy  MS.,  p.  235;  Hales  and 
Furnivall,  II,  147.  b.  The  Pleasant  History  of  the  Miller 
of  Mansfield,  in  Sherwood,  and  Henry  the  Second,  King  of 
England,  etc.,  Wood,  2.54,  iv.  Small  octavo  of  twelve  pages. 
Printed  for  F.  Coles,  J.  Wright,  T.  Vere,  and  William 
Gilbertson,  1655. 

1  Henery,  our  royall  "king,  wold  goe  a  huntinge, 

To  the  greene  ffc^rrest  soe  pleasant  and  fayre ; 
To  haue  the  harts  chased,  the  daintye  does  tripping, 

To  merry  Sherwood  his  nobles  repayre  ; 
Hauke  and  hound  was  vnbound,  all  things  prepared 
For  the  same  to  the  game  with  good  regard. 

2  All  a  longe  summers  day  rode  the  \.ing  pleasantlye. 

With  all  his  princes  and  nobles  eche  one, 
Chasing  the  hart  and  hind  and  the  bucke  gallantlye, 

Till  the  darke  euening  inforced  them  turne  home. 
Then  at  last,  ryding  fast,  he  had  lost  quite 
All  his  lords  in  the  wood  in  the  darke  night. 

3  Wandering  thus  wearilye,  all  alone  vp  and  downe, 

With  a  rude  miller  he  mett  att  the  last ; 
Asking  the  ready  way  vnto  fayre  Nottingham, 

*  Sir,'  qwoth  the  miller,  '  I  meane  not  to  iest, 
Yett  I  thinke  what  I  thinke  ;  truth  for  to  say, 
You  doe  not  lightlye  goe  out  of  your  way.' 

4  'Why,  what  dost  thou  thinke  of  me?'  qwoth  our 

"king  merrily, 
'  Passing  thy  iudgment  vpon  me  soe  breefe.' 

*  Good  faith, '  qwoth  the  miller,  *  I  meane  not  to  flat- 

ter thee, 
I  gesse  thee  to  bee  some  gentleman-theefe  ; 
Stand  thee  backe  in  the  darke  !  light  not  adowne. 
Lest  I  prgsentlye  cracke  thy  knaues  cro[wn]e! ' 

6  *  Thou  doest   abuse  me   much,'  qwoth  our  "king^ 
'  saying  thus  ; 
I  am  a  gentleman,  and  lodging  doe  lacke.' 

*  Thou  hast  not,'  qwoth  the  miller,  *  a  groat  in  thy 

pursse  ; 
All  thine  inheritance  hanges  on  thy  backe.' 

*  I  haue  gold  to  discharge  for  that  I  call ; 
If  itt  be  forty  pence,  I  will  pay  all.* 

6  *  If  thou  beest  a  true  man,'  then  said  the  miller, 
'  I  sweare  by  my  tole-dish  I  'le  lodge  thee  all  night.' 
'  Heere  's  my  band,'  qiwth  our  king,  *  that  was  I 
euer.' 

*  Nay,  soft,'  qwoth  the  miller,  *  thou  mayst  be  a 

sprite  ; 
Better  I  'le  know  thee  ere  hands  I  will  shake ; 
With  none  but  honest  men  hands  will  I  take.' 


7  Thus  they  went  all  alonge  unto  the  millers  house, 

Where  they  were  seething  of  puddings  and  souce. 
The  miller  first  entered  in,  then  after  went  the  king ; 
Neuer  came  he  in  soe  smoakye  a  house. 

*  Now,'  quoth  bee, '  let  me  see  heere  what  you  are  ; ' 
Qwoth  our  king,  Looke  you[r]  fill,  and  doe  not 

spare. 

8  •  I  like  well  thy  countenance  ;  thou  hast  an  honest 

fac[e]  ; 
With  my  sonne  Richard  this  night  thou  shalt  lye.' 
Quoth  his  wiffe.  By  my  troth,  it  is  a  good  hansome 
yout[h] ; 
Yet  it  is  best,  husband,  to  deale  warrilye. 
Art  thou  not  a  runaway  ?   I  pray  thee,  youth,  tell ; 
Show  vs  thy  pasport  and  all  shalbe  well. 

9  Then  our  king  presentlye,  making  lowe  curtesie. 

With  his  hatt  in  his  hand,  this  he  did  say  : 
I  haue  noe  pasport,  nor  neuer  was  seruitor. 

But  a  poore  courtyer,  rode  out  of  the  way ; 
And  for  yowr  kindnesse  now  offered  to  me, 
I  will  requite  it  in  euerye  degree. 

10  Then  to  the  miller  his  wifEe  whispered  secretlye, 

Saing,  It  seemeth  the  youth  is  of  good  kin, 
Both  by  his  apparell  and  by  his  manners  ; 

To  turne  him  out,  certainely  it  were  a  great  sin. 

*  Yea,'  qwoth  hee,  '  you  may  see  hee  hath  some 

grace. 
When  as  he  speaks  to  his  betters  in  place.' 

11  'Well,'  qwoth  the  millers   wifEe,   'younge  man, 

welcome  heer! 
And  tho  I  say  't,  well  lodged  shalt  thou  be  ; 
Fresh  straw  I  will  lay  vpon  yowr  bed  soe  braue, 
Good    browne    hempen    sheetes    likwise,'    qwoth 

shee. 

*  I,'  qwoth  the  goodman,  *and  when  that  is  done. 
Thou  shalt  lye  [with]  noe  worse  then  our  owne 

sonne.' 

12  *  Nay  first,'  qwoth  Richard,  *  good  fellowe,  tell  me 

true. 
Hast  thou  noe  creepers  in  thy  gay  hose? 
Art  thou  not  troubled  with  the  scabbado  ? ' 
*Pray  you,'  qwoth  the  king,  'what  things  are 
those?' 

*  Art  thou  not  lowsye  nor  scabbed? '  qwoth  hee ; 

*  If  thou  beest,  surely  thou  lyest  not  with  me.' 

13  This    caused  our  kin^r  suddenly   to  laugh   most 

hartilye 

TDl  the  teares  trickled  downe  from  his  eyes. 
Then  to  there  supper  were  th^  sett  orderlye. 

To  hott  bag-puddings  and  good  apple-pyes  ; 
Nappy  ale,  good  and  stale,  in  a  browne  bowle, 
WAich  did  about  the  bord  merrilye  troule. 


273.    KING  EDWARD   THE  FOURTH   AND   A  TANNER  OF  TAMWORTH 


85 


14  *  Heere,*  q«oth  the  miller,  *  good  fellowe,  I  'le  drinke 

to  thee, 
And  to  all  the  courtnolls  that  curteous  bee.' 

*  I  pledge  thee,'  quoth  our  king,  *  and  thanke  thee 

heartilye 
For  my  good  welcome  in  eue?ye  degree ; 
And  heere  in  like  manner  I  drinke  to  thy  sonne.' 

*  Doe  then,'  saies  Eicharc?,  *  and  quicke  let  it  come.* 

15  *  Wiffe,*  quoth  the  miller,  'feitch  me  forth  light- 

foote, 
That  wee  of  his  sweetnesse  a  litle  may  tast.' 
A  faire  venson  pastye  shee  feiched  forth  present- 
lye. 
*Eate,'  quoth  the  miller,  *  but  first,  make  noe 
wast; 
Heer  is  dainty  lightfoote.'     'Infaith,'  quoth  our 
king, 

*  I  neuer  before  eate  of  soe  dayntye  a  thinge.' 

16  '  Iwis,'  said  Richard,  *  noe  dayntye  att  all  it  is, 

For  wee  doe  eate  of  it  euerye  day.' 
*  In  what  place,'  sayd  our  king,  'may  be  bought 
Uktoth[is?]' 
*  Wee  neuer  pay  peennye  for  it,  by  my  fay ; 
From  merry  Sherwood  wee  feitch  it  home  heere  ; 
Now  and  then  we  make  bold  with  our  kings  deere.' 

17  *  Then  I  thinke,'  quoth  our  king,  *  that  it  is  venison.' 

'  Eche  f oole,*  quoth  Richard, '  full  well  may  see 
that; 
Neuer  are  we  without  two  or  three  in  the  roofEe, 

Verry  well  fleshed  and  exellent  ffatt. 
But  I  pray  thee  say  nothing  where-ere  thou  goe ; 
We  wold  not  for  two  pence  the  kin^r  shold  it  know.* 

18  •  Doubt  not,*  said  our  king,  *  my  promised  secresye ; 

The  king  shall  neuer  know  more  on  't  for  mee.* 
A  cupp  of  lambes  woole  they  dranke  vnto  him, 

And  to  their  bedds  th^  past  presentlye. 
The  nobles  next  morning  went  all  vp  and  downe 
For  to  seeke  the  king  in  euerye  towne. 

19  At  last,  att  the  millers  house  soone  th^  did  spye 

him  plaine, 
As  he  was  mounting  vpon  his  faire  steede ; 
To  whome  thd  came  presentlye,  falling  downe  on 
their  knees, 
Which,  made  the  millers  hart  wofuUye  bleed. 
Shaking  and  quaking  before  him  he  stood. 
Thinking  he  shold  be  hanged  by  the  rood. 

20  The  k[ing]  perceiuing  him  fearfully  tremblinge. 

Drew  forth  his  sword,  but  nothing  he  said  ; 
The  miller  downe  did  fall  crying  before  them  all, 

Doubtinge  the  kin^r  wold  cut  of  his  head. 
But  he,  his  kind  curtesie  for  to  requite, 
Gaue  him  great  lining,  and  dubd  him  a  knight. 


21  When  as  our  noble  king  came  from  Nottingam, 

And  with  his  nobles  in  Westminster  lay, 
Recounting  the  sports  and  the  pastime  th^  had  tane 

In  this  late  progresse  along  on  the  way, 
Of  them  all,  great  and  small,  hee  did  protest 
The  miller  of  Mansfeild  liked  him  best. 

22  *  And  now,  my  lords,'  quoth  the  kin^f,  *  I  am  deter- 

mined. 
Against  St  Georges  next  sumptuous  feast, 
That  this  old  miller,  our  youngest  confirmed  knight, 
With  his  Sonne  Richard,  shalbe  both  my  guest ; 
For  in  this  merryment  it  is  my  desire 
To  talke  with  this  iollye  knight  and  the  younge 
squier.' 

23  When  as  the  noble  lords  saw  the  kin^rs  merriment, 

Thd  were  right  ioyfuU  and  glad  in  their  harts; 
A  pursiuant  thd  sent  straight  on  this  busines. 

The  wAich  oftentimes  vsed  those  parts. 
When  he  came  to  the  place  where  he  did  dwell, 
His  message  merrilye  then  he  did  tell. 

24  *God  sane  your  worshippe,'  then  said  the  messenger, 

'  And  grant  your  ladye  her  owne  harts  desire ; 
And  to  your  sonne   Richard  good  fortune   and 
happinesse. 

That  sweet  younge  gentleman  and  gallant  squier ! 
Our  kin^r  greets  you  well,  and  thus  doth  say; 
You  must  come  to  the  court  on  St  Georges  day. 

25  •  Therfore  in  any  case  fayle  not  to  be  in  place.' 

*  I- wis,'  quoth  the  miller,  *  it  is  an  odd  iestl 
What  shold  wee  doe  there? '  he  sayd, '  infaith  I  am 
halfe  afraid.' 
*I  doubt,'  quoth  Richard,  <to  be  hanged  att  the 
least.* 
*  Nay,'  quoth  the  messenger,  *  you  doe  mistake  ; 
Our  king  prepares  a  great  feast  for  your  sake.' 

26  *  Then,'  said  the  miller,  •  now  by  my  troth,  mes- 

senger. 
Thou  hast  contented  my  worshipp  full  well : 
Hold  !  there  is  three  farthings  to  quite  thy  great 
gentleness 
For  these  happy  tydings  w^ich  thou  dost  me  tell. 
Let  me  see !  hearest  thou  me  ?  tell  to  our  king. 
Wee  'le  wayte  on  his  mastershipp  in  euerye  thing.' 

27  The  pursivant  smyled  at  their  simplicitye. 

And  making  many  leggs,  tooke  their  reward. 
And  takeing  then  his  leaue  with  great  humilitye 

To  the  kind's  court  againe  hee  repayred, 
Showing  vnto  his  Grace  in  euerye  degree 
The  kni^Ats  most  liberall  giffts  and  great  bountye. 

28  When  hee  was  gone  away,  thus  can  the  miller  say; 

Heere  comes  expences  and  charges  indeed! 


86 


273.    KING  EDWARD  THE  FOURTH  AND  A  TANNER  OP  TAMWORTH 


Now  must  wee  needs  be  braue,  tho  wee  spend  all 
wee  haue  ; 
For  of  new  garments  wee  haue  great  need. 
Of  horsses  and  serving-men  wee  must  haue  store, 
With  bridles  and  sadles  and  twentye  things  more. 

29  'Tushe,  Sir  John,'  quoth  his  wiffe,  'neither  doe 

frett  nor  frowne, 
You  shall  bee  att  noe  more  charges  for  mee  ; 
For  I  will  turne  and  trim  vp  my  old  russett  gowne, 

With  euerye  thing  else  as  fine  as  may  bee  ; 
And  on  our  mill-horsses  full  swift  wee  will  ryd, 
With  pillowes  and  pannells  as  wee  shall  provyde.' 

30  In  this  most  statelye  sort  th^  rod  vnto  the  court, 

Their  lusty  Sonne  Richarrf  formost  of  all, 
Who  sett  vp  by  good  hap  a  cockes  fether  in  his 
cappe  ; 

And  soe  the  ietted  downe  towards  the  kind's  hall, 
The  merry  old  miller  with  his  hands  on  his  side, 
His  wiffe  like  Maid  Marryan  did  mince  at  that  tyde. 

31  The  kin^  and  his  nobles,  that  hard  of  their  coming. 

Meeting  this  gallant  knight  with  this  braue  traine, 

*  Welcome,  Sir  Knight,^  quoth,  hee,  *  with  this  your 

gay  lady ! 
Good  Sir  lohn  Cockle,  once  welcome  againe  ! 
And  soe  is  this  squier  of  courage  soe  free.' 
Quoth  Dicke,  A  botts  on  you  I  doe  you  know  me? 

32  Quoth  our  king  gentlye.  How  shall  I  forgett  thee? 

Thou  wast  myowne  bed-fellow;  well  that  I  wot.' 
'  But  I  doe  thinke  on  a  tricke,'  —  '  Tell  me,  pray 
thee,  Dicke  ! ' 
*  How  with  farting  we  made  the  bed  hott.' 

*  Thou  horson  [un]happy  knaue,'  the[n]  quoth  the 

kni^rAt, 

*  Speake  cleanly  to  our  [king,]  or  else  goe  shite  ! ' 

33  The  king  and  his  councellors  hartilye  laugh  at  this. 

While  the  king  tooke  them  by  the  hand. 
With  ladyes  and  their  maids,  like  to  the  queene  pi 
spades 

The  millers  wiffe  did  most  orderlye  stand, 
A  milkemaids  curtesye  at  euerye  word ; 
And  downe  these  folkes  were  set  to  the  bord. 

34  Where  the  kin^r  royally,  with  princely  maiestye. 

Sate  at  his  dinner  with  ioy  and  delight ; 
When  he  had  eaten  well,  to  jesting  then  hee  fell. 
Taking  a  bowie  of  wine,  dranke  to  the  knight. 

*  Heere  's  to  you  both! '  he  sayd,  *  in  ale,  wine,  and 

beere, 
Thanking  you  hartilye  for  all  my  good  cheere.' 

85  Quoth  Sir  lohn  Cockle,  I  'le  pledge  you  a  pottle. 
Were  it  the  best  ale  in  Nottingam-shire. 
'  But  then,'  said  our  kin^r,  *  I  thinke  on  a  thinge  ; 
Some  of  your  lightfoote  I  wold  we  had  heere.' 


*  Ho,  ho  ! '  quoth  Richarrf,  '  full  well  I  may  say  it ; 
It 's  knauerye  to  eate  it  and  then  to  bewray  it.* 

36  '  What !  art  thou  angry? '  quoth  our  kin^r  merrilye, 

*  Infaith  I  take  it  verry  vnkind  ; 

I  thought  thou  woldest  pledg  me  in  wine  or  ale 

heartil[y].' 
'  Yee  are  like  to  stay,'  quoth  Dicke,  '  till  I  haue 

dind. 
You  feed  vs  with  twatling  dishes  soe  small ; 
Zounds  1  a  blacke  pudding  is  better  then  all.' 

37*1,  marry,'  quoth  our  kin^r,  *  that  were  a  daintye 
thing. 
If  wee  cold  gett  one  heere  for  to  eate.' 
With  that,  Dicke  straight  arose,  and  plucket  one 
out  of  his  h[ose,] 
Which  with  heat  of   his  breech  began  for  to 
sweate. 
The  kin^f  made  profer  to  snatch  it  away  ; 
'  It 's  meate  for  your  master,  good   sir,  you  shall 
stay  I' 

38  Thus  with  great  merriment  was  the  time  wholy 

spent. 

And  then  the  ladyes  prepared  to  dance. 
Old  Sir  lohn  Cockle  and  Richarrf  incontinent 

vnto  this  practise  the  kin^r  did  advance  ; 
Where  with  the  ladyes  such  sport  thd  did  make. 
The  nobles  with  laughing  did  make  their  heads  ake. 

39  Many  thankes  for  their  paines  the  kin^f  did  giue 

them  then. 
Asking  young  Richard  if  he  wold  be  wed  : 

*  Amongst  these  ladyes  faire,  tell  me  which  liketh 

thee.' 
Quoth  hee,  lugg  Grumball  with  the  red  head, 
Shee  's  my  loue  ;  shee  *s  my  liffe ;  her  will  I  wed  ; 
Shee  hath  swome  I  shall  haue  her  maidenhead. 

40  Then  Sir  lohn  Cockle  the  king  called  vnto  him  ; 

And  of  merry  Sherwood  made  him  ouerseer. 
And  gaue  him  out  of  hand  three  hundred  pound 
yearlye : 

*  But  now  take  heede  you  steale  noe  more  of  my 

deere, 
And  once  a  quarter  let 's  heare  haue  your  vew ; 
And  thus.  Sir  lohn  Cockle,  I  bid  thee  adew ! ' 

a.  5^  40.     7\  into.     7^.  seeding. 
178.  2  or  3.     17«.  2.     IS^.  saiy. 
268.  3.     28«.  20'^'.     292.  charges  of. 
31^.  abotts.     348.  resting,     b,  jesting. 
361.  hungry,     b,  angry.     408.  300'/. 

b.  1*.  would  ride.    18.  hart  :  and  dainty.    1*.  Unto. 
2*.  him  turn.     2®.  late  in  dark. 

3*.  miller,  your  way  you  have  lost. 
S«.  not  likely.     4^,  5S  13^.  the  king. 
4*.  but  some.     4^  light  thee  not  down. 


373.    KING  EDWARD  THE  FOURTH  AND   A  TANNER  OF  TAMWORTH 


87 


4«   Lest  that  :  knock  thy.     52.  I  lack.  238. 

5«.  one  groat.     5\  discharge  all  that.     6\  I  will.  23*. 

71.  unto.     72.  seething.  236. 

7».  after  him  the,     S^.  good  wanting.  24*. 

8*.  for  to.     86.  prethee.     8*.  Shew  me.  252. 

92.  thus  he.     9*.  of  my.     96.  here  offered.  268. 

102.  this  youth's.     108.  and  eke  by.     lO^.  Yes.  275. 

10*.  When  he  doth  speak.     118.  -v^ii  iiave  laid  on.  28^. 

11*.  hempten.     11 6.  with  no.     122.  within.  288. 

128.   Or  art.     1 2*.  I  pray,  quoth.     12S.  or.  29*. 

13*.  With  a  hot  bag-pudding.     14^.  I  drink  thee.  312, 

142.  courtnols  where  ever  they  be.  328. 

148.  He  pledge  you  :  thank  you.     14*.  For  your.  32*. 

146.  to  your.     14*.  Do  so,  quoth  Richard,  but.  32*. 

158.  pasty  then  brought  she  forth.     15*.  but  fir.  33*. 

156.  then  said  our.     1 71.  said  our.  336, 

1 72.  said  Richard.     1 7*.  wondrous  fat.  34^. 

176.  But  prethee.     18^,  not  then  said,  346. 

183.  him  then.     188,  seek  out.     19\  they  espy'd.  346. 

196,  should  have  been.     20^.  fearfull  and.  358. 

20*.  would  have  cut  off,  36^. 

206.  But  his  kind  curtesie  there  to.  36*. 

206,  him  a  living,     21^,  came  home.  378. 

218.  and  pastime,    21*.  this  his  progresse  along  by.  376. 

216.  this  he.     216.  Mansfields  sport.  386. 

228,  our  last.     22*.  both  be  my  guests.  398. 

226.  with  this.     23^.  kings  pleasantuesse.  b  is 


there  was  sent  :  on  the. 
Which  had  many  times  been  in. 
message  orderly.     24^,  owne  wanting. 
gallant  young.     246,  ^e  greets  you  all, 
this  is.     258.  said,  faith,     25*.  to  be  wanting. 
here  's  :  great  wanting.     266.  to  your, 
in  each.     276,  gift:  great tt^an^m^. 
When  as  :  thus  did. 

we  must :  though  wee  sell.     292.  charges  for. 
else  wanting.     30^.  rode  they.     306.  hand, 
his  brave.    32^.  how  should.    322.  mine  own. 
doe  wanting :  me  that  prethee  Dick. 
How  we  :  did  make.     326,  happie  :  then, 
our  king,     33K  laught,     332,  both  by. 
so  orderly. 

the  folks  were  sate  at  the  side-board, 
in  princely.  348.  jesting  then  they, 
wine,  ale. 

you  all  for  your  country  cheere. 
I  doe  think,     356.  »xis. 
Why,  art  thou  angry.     368.  ^le  and  wine. 
Y'  are.     372.  jf  ^  man  could  get  one  hot. 
hose.     37*.  ioT  wanting.     376.  made  a. 
'T  is  :  you  must.     386.  Here  with, 
their  hearts.     39^.  did  the  king  give, 
ladies  free.     396.  she  will.     406.  bid  you. 
printed  with  the  long  lines  broken  into  two. 


88 


274.    OUE  GOODMAN 


274 

OUR  GOODMAN 


A.  Herd's  MSS,  I,  140 ;  Herd's  Ancient  and  Modem 
Scottish  Songs,  1776,  II,  172. 


B.  'The  Merry  Cuckold  and  Kind  Wife,'  a  broad- 
side :  Printed  and  Sold  at  the  Printing- Office  in  Bow 
Church- Yard,  London. 


r* 


h 


(^■•; 


M> 


The  copy  in  Ritson's  Scotish  Song,  I,  231, 
is  from  Herd,  1776 ;  that  in  the  Musical  Mu- 
seum, No  464,  p.  466,  is  the  same,  with  change 
of  a  few  words.  In  Smith's  Scotish  Minstrel, 
IV,  66,  the  piece  is  turned  into  a  Jacobite 
ballad.  The  good  wife  says  she  is  hiding  her 
cousin  Mcintosh ;  '  Tories,'  says  the  goodman. 

B  was  reprinted  by  Dixon  in  Ancient  Po- 
ems, Ballads,  and  Songs  of  the  Peasantry  of 
England,  p.  211,  Percy  Society,  vol.  xvii, 
*  Old  Wichet  and  his  Wife,'  from  a  copy  "  ob- 
tained in  Yorkshire  "  and  "  collated  "  with 
the  Aldermary  broadside.  The  fifth  adven- 
ture (in  the  closet)  is  lacking.  Two  or  three 
staves,  with  variations  for  the  better,  are 
given  from  memory  in  Notes  and  Queries, 
First  Series,  VI,  118,  as  communicated  by  Mr 
R.  C.  Warde,  of  Kidderminster.  (See  the 
notes.) 

Percy  made  B  over  in  two  shapes,  whether 
for  simple  amusement  or  for  the  projected  ex- 
tension of  the  Reliques :  *  Old  Wichet's  Dis- 
coveries,' *01d  Wichard's  Mistakes,'  among 
Percy's  papers. 

A.  Our  goodman,  coming  home,  sees  suc- 
cessively a  saddle-horse,  pair  of  jack -boots, 
sword,  powdered  wig,  muckle  coat,  finally  a 
man,  where  none  such  should  be.  He  asks 
the  goodwife  how  this  came  about  without 
his  leave.  She  responds  contemptuously  that 
the  things  he  has  supposed  himself  to  see 
are,  respectively,  a  sow  (milch-cow),  a  pair 
of  water-stoups,  a  porridge-spurtle,  a  clocken- 
hen,  a  pair  of  blankets,  a  milking-maid,  which 
her  mother  has  sent  her.  Far  has  he  ridden, 
but  a  saddle  on  a  sow's  (cow's)  back,  siller 


spurs  on  water-stoups,  etc.,  long -bearded 
maidens,  has  he  never  seen. 

B.  In  B  Old  Wichet  comes  upon  three 
horses,  swords,  cloaks,  pairs  of  boots,  pairs  of 
breeches,  hats,  and  in  the  end  three  men  in 
bed.  Blind  cuckold,  says  the  wife,  they  are 
three  milking-cows,  roasting-spits,  mantuas, 
pudding-bags,  petticoats,  skimming-dishes, 
milking-maids,  all  presents  from  her  mother. 
The  like  was  never  known,  exclaims  Old 
Wichet ;  cows  with  bridles  and  saddles,  roast- 
ing-spits with  scabbards,  etc.,  milking-maids 
with  beards  I 

A  song  founded  on  this  ballad  was  intro- 
duced into  the  play  of  "  Auld  Robin  Gray," 
produced,  according  to  Guest's  History  of  the 
Stage,  at  the  Haymarket,  July  29,  1794. 
This  song  is  a  neat  r^sum^  of  the  ballad,  with 
a  satisfactory  catastrophe.*    See  an  appendix. 

A  Gaelic  copy,  taken  down  by  Rev.  Alex- 
ander Stewart,  of  Ballachulish,  from  the  re- 
citation of  an  old  man  in  his  parish  whose 
father  had  been  in  the  way  of  singing  it  sixty 
years  before,  is  plainly  based  upon  A.  The 
goodman,  coming  home  unexpectedly,  finds  a 
boat  on  the  beach,  a  horse  at  the  door,  etc. 
These  and  other  things  are  explained  by  his 
wife  as  gifts  from  her  mother.  Far  has  he 
wandered,  but  never  saw  a  saddle  on  a  cow, 
etc.  Alexander  Stewart,  'Twixt  Ben  Nevis 
and  Glencoe,  1885,  p.  76  fP. 

A  ballad  known  and  sung  throughout  Flem- 
ish Belgium, '  Mijn  man  komt  thuis,'  is  formed 
upon  the  pattern  of  A,  and  must  have  been 

*  I  am  indebted  for  information  concerning  this  song, 
and  for  a  copy,  to  Mr  F.  Z.  Bound. 


^y 


«74.    OUR  GOODMAN 


89 


derived  from  A,  unless  the  two  have  a  com- 
mon source.  Two  copies  are  given  in  Volks- 
kunde  (Tijdschrift  voor  Nederlandsche  Folk- 
lore), II,  49-58,  by  the  editors,  Messrs  A. 
Gitt^e  and  Pol  de  Mont,  a  third  by  Pol  de 
Mont,  V,  20.  A  man  comes  home  late,  and 
sees  in  his  bedroom  a  strange  hat,  overcoat, 
and  other  articles  of  clothing,  and  asks  whose 
they  are.  His  wife  answers  that  they  are  a 
water-pot,  a  straw  mattress,  etc.,  which  her 
mother  has  sent  her.  Travel  the  world  round, 
he  has  never  seen  a  water-pot  with  a  band 
about  it,  a  straw  mattress  with  two  sleeves,  etc. 
In  the  last  adventure  of  the  first  copy,  the  hus- 
band finds  a  man  in  the  room,  and  his  wife 
flatly  answers,  it  is  a  lover  my  mother  has 
sent  me.  The  second  copy  ends  a  little  bet- 
ter, but  not  well.  The  man  is  explained  to 
.  be  a  foster-child  sent  by  his  wife's  mother,  and 
so  in  the  third.  The  husband  has  travelled  the 
world  round,  but  a  foster-child  with  whiskers 
has  he  never  seen.  The  wife  packs  out  of 
the  house.  He  has  travelled  the  world  round, 
but  a  wife  like  his  he  wishes  never  to  see 
again. 

Friedrich  Wilhelm  Meyer,  in  1789,  turned 
B  into  German  in  very  happy  style,  furnish- 
ing a  dSnoHment  in  which  the  man  gives  his 
wife  a  beating  and  explains  his  cuffs  as  ca- 
resses which  her  mother  has  sent  her.  Meyer's 
ballad  was  printed  in  1790,  in  the  Gottingen 
Musenalmanach,  p.  61  ff.,  and  the  same  year 
in  Lieder  fiir  frohliche  Gesellschaften,  p.  37 
(Hamburg).  It  had  great  and  immediate 
success,  was  circulated  as  a  broadside,  and 
was  taken  up  by  the  people,  in  whose  mouth 
it  underwent  the  usual  treatment  of  ballads 
traditionally  propagated.*  From  Germany  it 
spread  into  Scandinavia  and  Hungary,  and 
perhaps  elsewhere.  German  varieties  are : 
'  Des  Mannes  Heimkehr,'  Hoffmann  u.  Rich- 
ter,  p.  225,  No  195;  'Wind  iiber  Wind,' 
Simrock,  p.  375,  No  241 ;  '  Des  Ehemannes 
Heimkehr,'  Ditfurth,  Frankische  Volkslieder, 
II'  Theil,  p.  61,  No  61;  Firmenich,  Germa- 

*  Hoffmann  von  Fallersleben,  Unsere  Volksthiimlichen 
Lieder,  No  478.     It  begins  : 

Ich  ging  in  meinen  Stall,  da  sah  ich,  ei  !  ei  ! 
An  Krippen  standen  Pferde,  eins,  zwei,  drei. 

TOL.  V.  12 


niens  Volkerstimmen,  III,  66 ;  '  Der  Bauer  u. 
sein  Weib,'  Erlach,  IV,  90  ;  '  Der  betrogene 
Ehemann,'  Prohle,  p.  143  ;  Walter,  p.  97;  '  O 
Wind,  O  Wind,  O  Wind  ! '  Zurmiihlen  (Diil- 
kener  Fiedler),  p.  101.  (The  last  four  lack 
the  beating.) 

The  only  Scandinavian,  copy  that  I  have 
seen  is  the  Swedish  '  Husarema,'  in  Berg- 
strom  och  Nordlander,  Sagor,  Sagner  och 
Visor,  1885,  p.  93.  For  indication  of  others, 
Danish,  Norwegian,  and  Swedish  (including 
a  broadside  as  early  as  1799),  see,  particu- 
larly, Olrik,  Danmarks  gamle  Folkeviser,  V, 
n,  211  f.,  and  note***;  also,  Dybeck's  Runa, 
1*  Samlingen,  1865,  I,  89  (where  the  begin- 
nings of  two  stanzas  are  cited)  ;  Afzelius,  ed. 
1880,  II,  285. 

Magyar  (Szekler),  Krlza,  Vadr6zsdk,  p. 
242,  No  483 ;  Aigner,  p.  149. 

French.  A  similar  ballad  is  common  in 
France,  especially  in  the  south. 

Poesies  pop.  de  la  France,  MSS :  II,  fol.  54, 
'  Marion ; '  III,  60  (printed  in  Revue  des  Tra- 
ditions pop.,  II,  66),  62,  64,  Puy-de-D6me ; 
68,  Auvergne  ;  69,  '  Zjean  et  Mariou,'  Bour- 
bonnais;  71,  Pays  de  Caux;  72,  '  Le  jaloux,' 
environs  de  Toulouse ;  74,  Gascogne  (Rol- 
land,  II,  211)  ;  75,  Languedoc ;  76,  '  Lo  sur- 
prero,'  Limousin  (RoUand,  II,  212)  ;  78,  *  Le 
mari  de  Marion,'  Normandie ;  80,  66,  *Le 
mari  jaloux,'  Bouches-du-Rhone ;  82,  *  Ma- 
rion,' Provence ;  88,  Loiret ;  84,  '  La  rusade,* 
Limousin  ; '  87,  '  Lou  jolous '  (RoUand,  II, 
213,  Revue  des  Trad,  pop.,  I,  71),  Limoges ; 
VI,  381  vo,  'Jeannetoun'  (RoUand,  II,  214), 
Quercy.  *  Lou  jalous,'  Arbaud,  Chants  pop. 
de  la  Provence,  II,  152.  *  Lou  galant,'  Atger, 
Revue  des  Langues  romanes,  VI,  261,  and 
Poesies  pop.  en  Langue  d'oc,  p.  53.  '  Las 
finesses  de  la  Marioun,'  Moncaut,  Litt^rature 
pop.  de  la  Gascogne,  p.  316  =  Bladd,  Poesies 
pop.  de  la  Gascogne,  II,  116  f.  Revue  des 
Traditions  pop.,  II,  64,  C^vennes.  Daudet, 
Numa  Roumestan,  ed.  1881,  p.  178,  Provence 
=  Revue  des  Tr.  pop.,  II,  Qb^  Quest  de  la 
France.  '  Lou  Tsalous,  Daymard,  Bulletin 
de  la  Society  des  Etudes,'  etc.,  du  Lot,  IV,  100, 
1878,  Vieux  chants  pop.  rec.  en  Quercy,  1889, 
p.  92.     *Las  rebirados  de  Marioun,'  SoleviUe, 


90 


274.    OUR  GOODMAN 


Chants  pop.  du  Bas-Quercy,  p.  22 ;  partly,  in 
Pouvillon,  Nouvelles  r^alistes,  ed.  1878,  p.  151. 
Victor  Smith  in  Komania,  IX,  566-68,  three 
copies,  Forez,  Velay,  bas-limousin.  '  Le  mari 
soupgonneux,'  Tarbd,  Romancero  de  Cham- 
pagne, II,  98,  Ardennes.  '  La  chanson  de  la 
bergdre,'  Puymaigre,  Chants  pop.  rec.  dans  le 
Pays  messin,  1865,  p.  215, 1881, 1,  263.  '  Les 
r^pliques  de  Marioun,'  Almanach  des  Tradi- 
tions pop.,  1882,  p.  86,  in  Holland,  II,  208, 
No  162  a, environs  de  Lorient.  'Las  respoun- 
sos  de  Marioun,'  Laroche,  Folklore  du  Lau- 
raguais,  p.  211.  "  Le  Chroniqueur  du  P^ri- 
gord  et  du  Limousin,  P^rigueux,  1853,  p. 
109."  "  Le  P^lerinage  de  Mireille,  p.  173." 
(The  last  two  I  have  not  seen.) 

For  the  most  part,  the  colloquy  runs  in  this 
wise :  '  Where  were  you  last  evening,  Mar- 
ion ? '      'In   the  garden,    picking  a   salad.' 

*  Who  was  it  you  were  talking  with?'  'A 
gossip  of  mine'  (camarade,  voisine,  cousin e, 
soeur,  servante,  etc.).  '  Do  women  wear  a 
sword?'     'It  was  no  sword,  but   a  distaff.' 

*  Do  women  wear  breeches  ? '  '  She  was  kilted 
up.'  '  Have  women  a  moustache  ?  '  *  She 
had  been  eating  mulberries.'  '  It  is  too  late 
for  mulberries.'  '  They  were  last  year's '  (an 
autumn  branch,  etc.).  '  I  will  cut  off  your 
head.'  '  And  what  will  you  do  with  the  rest  ? ' 
'  Throw  it  out  of  the  window.'  '  Les  cor- 
beaux  (cochons,  chiens,  chats,  mouches,  cou- 
teliers,  capucins,  anges,  etc.)  en  feront  fSte.' 
In  a  few  instances,  to  end  the  more  smartly, 
the  husband  is  made  to  promise  (or  the  wife 
to  ask)  forgiveness  for  this  time,  and  the  wife 
adds,  aside,  '  and  many  more.'  '  You  will 
play  off  no  more  tricks  on  me.'  '  Forgive 
this,  and  I  will,  a  good  many.'  (Rolland.) 
'  Pardon  this  fault ;  to-morrow  I  will  commit 
another.'  (Victor  Smith.)  '  Get  up :  I  pardon 
you.'  *  What  dolts  men  are !  What  can't  we 
make  them  believe  ! '    (MSS,  III,  78.)     Etc. 

In  some  half  dozen  copies,  Marion  has  been 
at  the  spring  (not  in  the  garden),  and  has 
stayed  suspiciously  long,  which  she  accounts 
for  by  her  having  found  the  water  muddied. 
After  this,  and  in  a  few  copies  which  have 
no  garden  or  spring,  the  matter  is  much  the 
same  as  in  the  English  ballad ;   there  is  a 


sword  on  the  mantel-shelf  (a  gun  on  the 
table),  boots  (cane)  behind  the  door,  a  man 
where  nae  man  should  be.  Nearest  of  all  to 
the  English  is  one  of  Victor  Smith's  ballads, 
Romania,  IX,  566  :  '  Whose  horse  was  that  in 
the  stable  last  night  ? '  '  No  horse,  but  our 
black  cow.'  '  A  cow  with  a  saddle  ? '  '  No  sad- 
dle ;  it  was  the  shadow  of  her  horns.'  *  Whose 
breeches,  boots,  sabre,  hat? '  '  qui  ^tait  couchd 
a  ma  place  ? '  The  mulberries  are  nearly  a  y* 
constant  feature  in  the  French  ballad. 

There  is  an  approach  to  a  serious  termina- 
tion in  MSS,  III,  87 :  '  Say  your  prayers,  with- 
out so  much  noise.'  '  At  least  put  my  bones 
in  the  ground.'  And  in  Puymaigre  :  '  I  will 
take  you  to  Flanders  and  have  you  hanged.' 
'  Leave  the  gallows  for  the  great  robbers  of 
France.'  The  copies,  MSS,  III,  62,  71,  end, 
prosaically, '  Jamais  je  n'ai  vu  ni  fille  ni  femme 
qui  sent  la  putain  comme  toi ; '  '  Femme  qui 
m'a  tromp^  la  mort  a  m^rit^e ! ' 

The  lace-makers  of  Vorey  are  wont  to  re- 
cite or  sing  this  ballad  winter  evenings  as  a 
little  drama :  V.  Smith,  Romania,  IX,  568, 
note.  So  the  young  girls  in  Lorraine  during 
carnival,  Puymaigre,  I,  263  ;  and  the  young 
fellows  in  Provence,  Arbaud,  II,  155  f. 

Italian.  '  Le  repliche  di  Marion,'  Nigra, 
Canti  popolari  del  Piemonte,  p.  422,  No  85, 
A,  B,  C.  The  Piedmontese  copies  follow  the 
French  closely,  beginning  with  picking  salad 
in  the  garden,  and  ending  with  '  your  peace 
is  made,'  as  in  Poesies  p.  de  la  France,  MSS, 
III,  64.  'II  marito  geloso'  (incomplete), 
Ferraro,  Canti  p.  monferrini,  p.  93,  No  70. 
'  La  sposa  colta  in  fallo,'  Bernoni,  Canti  p. 
veneziani,  puntata  ix,  No  8,  p.  12.  (Mariii 
goes  on  her  knees  and  asks  pardon,  and  is 
told  to  get  up,  for  pardoned  she  is.)  '  Bom- 
barion,'  Ferrari,  first  in  Giornale  di  Filologia 
romanza,  III,  No  7,  p.  74,  1880,  and  then  in 
Archivio  per  le  Tradizioni  popolari,  Canti  p. 
in  San  Pietro  Capofiurae,  VII,  398,  1888 
(peace  is  made).  All  the  Italian  versions  keep 
near  to  the  French,  having  nothing  original 
but  an  unimportant  insertion,  '  Chi  ti  far^  la 
minestra  ? '  etc.,  just  before  the  end.* 

*  '  0  Violina,  tu  hai  le  gote  rosse,'  a  veiy  pretty  little 
contrasto  bundled  by  Tigri  with  his  rispetti  (Canti  p.  toscani. 


274.    OUR  GOODMAN 


91 


Catalan.  *  La  Trapassera,'  Briz  y  Salto, 
Cants  pop.  Catalans,  11,  69.  Father  hears 
daughter  talking  with  lover  in  the  garden ; 
the  usual  questions  and  replies  ;  improved,  or 
corrupted,  at  the  end. 

For  serious  ballads,  Scandinavian,  Spanish, 
etc.,  exhibiting  similar  questions  and  evasions, 
see  *  Clerk  Saunders,'  No  69  P,  and  the  re- 
marks at  II,  157  f.,  512  a,  III,  509  a,  IV, 
468  a.     The  romance  '  De  Blanca-Nina '  oc- 


curs in  the  Cancionero  de  Romances  of  1550. 
The  oldest  Scandinavian  ballad  of  the  class  is 
one  of  Syv's,  printed  in  1695. 

Herd,  1776,  is  translated  by  Wolfe,  Halle 
der  Volker,  I,  96,  Hausschatz,  p.  230  ;  by 
Fiedler,  Geschichte  der  schottischen  Lieder- 
dichtung,  I,  32 ;  by  Knortz,  Schottische  Bal- 
ladeu,  p.  82. 


Herd's  MSS,  1, 140. 

1  Hame  came  our  goodman, 

And  hame  came  he, 
And  then  he  saw  a  saddle-horse, 
Where  nae  horse  should  be. 

2  '  What 's  this  now,  goodwif  e  ? 

What 's  this  I  see  ? 
How  came  this  horse  here, 
Without  the  leave  o  me  ? ' 

Recitative.     '  A  horse  ? '  quo  she. 
*  Ay,  a  horse,'  quo  he. 

3  '  Shame  fa  your  cuckold  face, 

HI  mat  ye  see ! 
'T  is  naething  but  a  broad  sow, 
My  minnie  sent  to  me.' 

*  A  broad  sow  ? '  quo  he.  • 

'  Ay,  a  sow,'  quo  shee. 

4  *Far  hae  I  ridden, 

And  farer  hae  I  gane, 
But  a  sadle  on  a  sow's  back 
I  never  saw  nane.' 

6  Hame  came  our  goodman, 
And  hame  came  he  ; 
He  spy'd  a  pair  of  jack-boots. 
Where  nae  boots  should  be. 

p.  284,  No  1023,  ed.  1856),  is  a  skirmish  between  father  and 
daughter,  after  the  fashion  of  our  ballad.  ('  My  cheeks  are 
stained  with  mulberries.'  '  Show  me  the  mulberries.*  *  They 
are  on  the  hedges.'  •  Show  me  the  hedges.'  '  The  goats  have 


6  *  What 's  this  now,  goodwif  e  ? 

What 's  this  I  see  ? 
How  came  these  boots  here, 
Without  the  leave  o  me  ? ' 

*  Boots  ?  '  quo  she. 

'  Ay,  boots,'  quo  he. 

7  *  Shame  fa  your  cuckold  face, 

And  ill  mat  ye  see ! 
It 's  but  a  pair  of  water-stoups, 
My  minnie  sent  to  me.' 

*  Water-stoups  ? '  quo  he. 

*  Ay,  water-stoups,'  quo  she. 

8  '  Far  hae  I  ridden. 

And  farer  hae  I  gane. 
But  siller  spurs  on  water-stoups 
I  saw  never  nane.' 

9  Hame  came  our  goodman, 

And  hame  came  he, 
And  he  saw  a  sword, 

Whare  a  sword  should  na  be. 

10  '  What 's  this  now,  goodwife  ? 
What 's  this  I  see  ? 
How  came  this  sword  here, 
Without  the  leave  o  me  ?  * 

*  A  sword  ? '  quo  she. 

*  Ay,  a  sword,'  quo  he. 


eaten  them.'  '  Show  me  the  goats,'  etc.)  Ferrari,  in  an  excel- 
lent paper  in  the  journal  referred  to  above,  tries  to  make  out 
some  historical  relation  between  the  two.  He  seems  to  me 
to  take  '  La  Yiolina '  quite  too  seriously. 


92 


274.    OUR  GOODMAN 


11  *  Shame  fa  your  cuckold  face, 

111  mat  ye  see ! 
It 's  but  a  porridge-spurtle, 
My  minnie  sent  to  me.' 

*  A  spurtle  ? '  quo  he. 

'  Ay,  a  spurtle,'  quo  she. 

12  '  Far  hae  I  ridden. 

And  farer  hae  I  gane, 
But  siller-handed  spurtles 
I  saw  never  nane.' 

13  Hame  came  our  goodman, 

And  hame  came  he ; 
There  he  spy'd  a  powderd  wig, 
Where  nae  wig  shoud  ^e. 

14  '  What 's  this  now,  goodwif  e  ? 

What 's  this  I  see  ? 
How  came  this  wig  here. 
Without  the  leave  o  me  ?  * 

'  A  wig  ? '  quo  she. 
'  Ay,  a  wig,'  quo  he. 

15  *  Shame  fa  your  cuckold  face, 

And  ill  mat  you  see ! 
'T  is  naething  but  a  clocken-hen, 
My  minnie  sent  to  me.' 

*  Clocken  hen  ? '  quo  he. 

'  Ay,  clocken  hen,'  quo  she. 

16  *  Far  hae  I  ridden. 

And  farer  hae  I  gane. 
But  powder  on  a  clocken-hen 
I  saw  never  nane.' 

17  Hame  came  our  goodman, 

And  hame  came  he, 
And  there  he  saw  a  muckle  coat, 
Where  nae  coat  shoud  be. 

18  '  What 's  this  now,  goodwif e  ? 

What 's  this  I  see  ? 


How  came  this  coat  here, 
Without  the  leave  o  me  ?  * 

*  A  coat  ?  '  quo  she. 

*  Ay,  a  coat,'  quo  he. 

19  *  Shame  fa  your  cuckold  face, 

HI  mat  ye  see ! 
It 's  but  a  pair  o  blankets. 
My  minnie  sent  to  me.' 

*  Blankets  ? '  quo  he. 

*  Ay,  blankets,'  quo  she. 

20  '  Far  hae  I  ridden. 

And  farer  hae  I  gane. 
But  buttons  upon  blankets 
I  saw  never  nane.' 

21  Ben  went  our  goodman, 

And  ben  went  he. 
And  there  he  spy'd  a  sturdy  man. 
Where  nae  man  shoud  be. 

22  '  What 's  this  now,  goodwif e  ? 

What 's  this  I  see  ? 
How  came  this  man  here, 
Without  the  leave  o  me  ?  * 

*  A  man  ? '  quo  she. 

*  Ay,  a  man,'  quo  he. 

23  '  Poor  blmd  body, 

And  blinder  mat  ye  be ! 
It 's  a  new  milking-maid. 
My  mither  sent  to  me.' 

*  A  maid  ? '  quo  he. 

*  Ay,  a  maid,'  quo  she. 

24  '  Far  hae  I  ridden. 

And  farer  hae  I  gane. 
But  lang-bearded  maidens 
I  saw  never  nane.' 


274.     OUR  GOODMAN 


93 


A  broadside :  Printed  and  Sold  at  the  Printing-Office  in 
Bow  Church- Yard,  London. 

101  went  into  the  stable, 
and  there  for  to  see, 
And  there  I  saw  three  horses  stand, 
by  one,  by  two,  and  by  three. 

2  01  calld  to  my  loving  wife, 

and  '  Anon,  kind  sir ! '  quoth  she : 
*  O  what  do  these  three  horses  here, 
without  the  leave  of  me  ?  ' 

3  '  Why,  you  old  cuckold,  blind  cuckold, 

can't  you  very  well  see  ? 
These  are  three  milking-cows, 
my  mother  sent  to  me.' 

4  '  Heyday !     Godzounds !     Milking-cows  with 

bridles  and  saddles  on  ! 
the  like  was  never  known  ! ' 
Old  Wichet  a  cuckold  went  out, 
and  a  cuckold  he  came  home. 


10  0  I  calld  to  my  loving  wife, 

and  '  Anon,  kind  sir ! '  quoth  she  : 
'  O  what  do  these  three  cloaks  do  here, 
without  the  leave  of  me  ? ' 

11  '  Why,  you  old  cuckold,  blind  cuckold) 

can't  you  very  well  see  ? 
These  are  thi-ee  mantuas, 
my  mother  sent  to  me.' 

12  *  Heyday !     Godzounds !    Mantuas  with  capes 

on! 
the  like  was  never  known  ! ' 
Old  Wichet  a  cuckold  went  out, 
and  a  cuckold  he  came  home. 

13  I  went  into  the  pantry, 

and  there  for  to  see. 
And  there  I  saw  three  pair  of  boots  hang, 
by  one,  by  two,  and  by  three. 

14  O  I  called  to  my  loving  wife, 

and  '  Anon,  kind  sir ! '  quoth  she 
'  O  what  do  these  three  pair  of  boots  do  here, 
without  the  leave  of  me  ?  * 


5  01  went  into  the  kitchen, 

and  there  for  to  see. 
And  there  I  saw  three  swords  hang, 
by  one,  by  two,  and  by  three. 

6  01  calld  to  my  loving  wife, 

and  '  Anon,  kind  sir  ! '  quoth  she  : 
'  O  what  do  these  three  swords  do  here, 
without  the  leave  of  me  ? ' 

7  '  Why,  you  old  cuckold,  blind  cuckold, 

can't  you  very  well  see  ? 

They  are  three  roasting-spits, 

my  mother  sent  to  me.* 

8  '  Heyday !    Godzounds  !    Boasting  spits  with 

scabbards  on ! 
the  like  was  never  known  !  * 
Old  Wichet  a  cuckold  went  out, 
and  a  cuckold  he  came  home. 

9  01  went  into  the  parlour, 

and  there  for  to  see, 
And  there  I  saw  three  cloaks  hang, 
by  one,  by  two,  and  by  three. 


15  *  Why,  you  old  cuckold,  blind  cuckold, 

can't  you  very  well  see  ? 
These  are  three  pudding-bags, 
my  mother  sent  to  me.' 

16  *  Heyday !    Godzounds !    Pudding-bags    with 


spurs  on 


the  like  was  never  known !  * 
Old  Wichet  a  cuckold  went  out, 
and  a  cuckold  he  came  home. 

17  I  wfent  into  my  closet, 

and  there  for  to  see, 
And  there  I  saw  three  pair  of  breeches  lie, 
by  one,  by  two,  and  by  three. 

18  O  I  calld  to  my  loving  wife, 

and  '  Anon,  kind  sir  ! '  quoth  she  : 
*  O  what  do  these  three  pair  of  breeches  do 
here, 
without  the  leave  of  me  ? ' 

19  *  Why,  you  old  cuckold,  blind  cuckold, 

can't  you  very  well  see  ? 
These  are  three  petticoats, 
my  mother  sent  to  me.' 


94 


2T4.    OUR  GOODMAN 


20  *  Heyday !  Godzounds  !   Petticoats  with  waist- 

bands on  ! 
the  like  was  never  known ! ' 
Old  Wichet  a  cuckold  went  out, 
and  a  cuckold  he  came  home. 

21  I  went  into  the  dairy, 

and  there  for  to  see, 
And  there  I  saw  three  hats  hang, 
by  one,  by  two,  and  by  three. 

22  I  calld  to  my  loving  wife, 

and  '  Anon,  kind  sir ! '  quoth  she  : 
*  Pray  what  do  these  three  hats  do  here, 
without  the  leave  of  me  ?  ' 

23  '  Why,  you  old  cuckold,  blind  cuckold, 

can't  you  very  well  see  ? 
They  are  three  skimming-dishes, 
my  mother  sent  to  me.' 

24  *  Heyday!    Godzounds !   Skimming-dishes  with 

hat-bands  on ! 
the  like  was  never  known  I ' 


Old  Wichet  a  cuckold  went  out, 
and  a  cuckold  he  came  home. 

25  I  went  into  the  chamber, 

and  there  for  to  see. 
And  there  I  saw  three  men  in  bed  lie, 
by  one,  by  two,  and  by  three. 

26  I  called  to  my  loving  wife, 

and  '  Anon,  kind  sir ! '  quoth  she : 
*  0  what  do  these  three  men  in  bed, 
without  the  leave  of  me  ? ' 

27  *  Why,  you  old  cuckold,  blind  cuckold, 

don't  you  very  well  see  ? 
They  are  three  milking-maids, 
my  mother  sent  to  me.' 

28  '  Heyday !    Godzounds  !     Milking-maids  with 

beards  on ! 
the  like  was  never  known  ! ' 
Old  Wichet  a  cuckold  went  out, 
and  a  cuckold  he  came  home. 


22. 
3^ 
32. 
3«. 
3*. 


A.     1^.  Or,  Our  goodman  came  hame  at  een. 
2i\  Or,  How  came  this  horse  here  ? 
Or,  How  can  this  be  ? 
Or,  Ye  aid  blind  dottled  carl. 
Or,  Blind  mat  ye  be  ! 
Or,  a  bonny  milk-cow. 
My  minny  is  an  alternative  and  necessary 
reading  for  The  miller. 
4^.  Or,  travelld. 
4^  Or,  And  meikle  hae  I  seen. 
4*.  [Or,]  Saw  I. 

6^  Or,  Our  goodman  came  hame. 
7*.  The  cooper  sent. 
9-12.   At  the  end,  with  a  direction  as  to 

place :  not  completely  written  out. 
9\  Hame,  etc. 
10».  Ohow. 

12i'2.  Weel  far  hae  I  travelled. 
And  muckle  hae  I  seen. 
12*.  Saw  I  never  nane. 

The  regular  readings  have  been  inserted  or 
substituted.  In  printing.  Herd  gave  some- 
times the  alternative  readings,  sometimes 
not. 


B.    Printed  in  seven  staves,  or  stanzas,  of  eight 

long  lines. 
1\  2\  Oh.     16»,  19».  the  three. 
Notes   and    Queries,   First    Series,   VI,   118 

("  Shropshire  BaUad  ").  J   l)ijr*^  ' 

I  went  into  the  stable,  \j  "  '^*'"^i    i     / 

To  see  what  I  could  see  ;  0  \  JT  ^ 

I  saw  three  gentlemen's  horses,  ^^^     'it"'* 
By  one,  by  two,  by  three. 


-^J 


I  called  to  my  loving  wife, 
'  Coming,  sir ! '  says  she  : 

*  What  meaneth  these  three  horses  here, 

Without  the  leave  of  me  ? ' 

*  You  old  fool !  you  blind  fool ! 

Can't  you,  won't  you,  see  ? 
They  are  three  milking-cows, 
That  my  mother  sent  to  me.' 

'  Odds  bobs,  here 's  fun  !     Milking-cows  with 
saddles  on ! 
The  likes  I  never  see ! 


274.     OUR  GOODMAN 


95 


I  cannot  go  a  mile  from  home 
But  a  cuckold  I  must  be.' 

I  went  into  the  parlour, 

To  see  what  I  could  see ; 
I  saw  there  three  gentlemen, 

By  one,  by  two,  by  three. 

I  called  to  my  loving  wife, 

'  Coming,  sir  ! '  said  she  : 
'  What  bringeth  these  three  gentlemen  here, 

Without  the  leave  of  me  ?  ' 

'  You  old  fool !  you  blind  fool ! 

Can't  you,  won't  you,  see  ? 
They  are  three  milking-maids, 

That  my  mother  sent  to  me.' 

'  Odds  bobs,  here 's  fun !     Milking-maids  with 
breeches  on ! 
The  likes  I  never  see ! 


I  cannot  go  a  mile  from  home 
But  a  cuckold  I  must  be.' 

The  unhappy  husband  next  wanders  into  the 
pantry,  and  discovers  '  three  pairs  of  hunting- 
boots,'  which  his  spouse  declares  are 

*  .  .  .  milking-chums, 

Which  my  mother  sent  to  me.' 

*  Odds  bobs,  here 's  fun !    Milking-churns  with 

spurs  on ! 
The  likes  I  never  see ! 
I  cannot  go  a  mile  from  home 
But  a  cuckold  I  must  be.' 

The  gentleman's  coats,  discovered  in  the 
kitchen,  are  next  disposed  of,  but  here  my 
memory  fails  me. 


APPENDIX 


'  'T  was  on  Christmas  Day,'  found  on  a  slip,  "  Sold 
at  No  42  Long  Lane,"  in  a  volume  in  the  British 
Museum,  1876.  e  (not  paged,  but  at  what  would  be 
p.  57),  and  again  in  The  New  Covent  Garden  Con- 
cert, London,  Printed  and  sold  by  J.  Evans,  No 
41  Long-Lane,  West  Smithfield,  Br.  Mus.  1077. 
g.  47  (4),  dated  in  the  catalogue  "1805  ?  " 

'Twas  on  Christmas  Day 

Father  he  did  wed  ; 
Three  months  after  that 

My  mother  was  brought  to  bed. 
My  father  he  came  home, 

His  head  with  liquor  stord, 
And  found  in  mother's  room 

A  silver-hilted  sword. 

Fiddle  de  dum  de  de,  etc. 

•  *  How  came  this  sword  here  ?  * 
My  mother  says,  says  she, 


*  Lovee,  't  is  a  poker 

Antee  sent  to  me.' 
Father  he  stumbld  and  star'd  ; 

'Twas  the  first,  I  ween, 
Silver-headed  poker 

He  had  ever  seen. 

Father  grumbled  on, 

But  getting  into  bed 
Egad  !  as  luck  fell  out, 

A  man  popd  up  his  head ; 

*  That 's  my  milk-maid,'  saj's  she  ; 

Says  dad,  *  I  never  heard 
In  all  my  travels  yet 
A  milk-maid  with  a  beard.' 

My  father  found  a  whip, 
And  very  glad  was  he ; 

*  And  how  came  this  whip  here, 

Without  the  leave  of  me  ?  * 

*  Oh  !  that 's  a  nice  strap-lace 

My  antee  sent  to  me  ; ' 
Egad  I  he  lac'd  her  stays, 
And  out  of  doors  went  she. 


96 


.f> 


tL 


'<A 


> 
> 


275.    GET  UP  AND  BAR  THE  DOOR  \  ^s>>^ 


^ 


275 

GET  UP  AND  BAR  THE  DOOR 


A.  a.  *  Get  up  and  bar  the  Door,'  Herd,  The  Ancient 
and  Modern  Scots  Songs,  1769,  p.  330;  Ancient  and 
Modern  Scottish  Songs,  1776,  II,  159.  b.  [Pinker- 
ton],  Select  Scotish  Ballads,  1783,  II,  160. 


The  copy  in  Johnson's  Museum,  volume 
three,  No  300,  p.  310,  1790,  is  A  a  with  two 
slight  changes ;  that  in  Ritson's  Scotish  Song, 
I,  226,  1794,  is  A  a.  A  b  is  substituted  for 
A  a  in  the  third  edition  of  Herd,  1791,  II,  63. 
Christie,  II,  262,  who  follows  A  a,  but  with 
changes,  gives  as  a  refrain,  "  common  in  the 
North  of  Scotland  from  time  immemorial," 

And  the  barring  o  our  door, 

Weel,  weel,  weel  ! 
And  the  barring  o  our  door,  weel! 

A,  B.  A  housewife  is  boiling  puddings 
anight ;  a  cold  wind  blows  in,  and  her  hus- 
band bids  her  bar  the  door ;  she  has  her  hands 
in  her  work  and  will  not.  They  come  to  an 
agreement  that  whoever  speaks  first  shall  bar 
the  door.  Two  belated  travellers  are  guided 
to  the  house  by  the  light  which  streams 
through  an  opening.  They  come  in,  and, 
getting  no  reply  to  their  questions  or  response 
to  their  greetings,  fall  to  eating  and  drinking 
what  they  find;  the  goodwife  thinks  much, 
but  says  naught.  One  of  the  strangers  pro- 
poses to  the  other  to  take  ofE  the  man's  beard, 
and  he  himself  will  kiss  the  goodwife.  Hot 
water  is  wanting  (for  scalding),  suggests  the 
second;  but  the  boiling  pudding -bree  will 
serve,  answers  the  first.  The  goodman  calls 
out.  Will  ye  kiss  my  wife  and  scald  me  ?  and 
having  spoken  the  first  word  has  to  bar  the 
door. 

O.  In  C  man  and  wife  are  in  bed,  and  the 
travellers  haul  the  woman  out  and  lay  her  on 
the  floor :  this  makes  the  husband  give  tongue. 


B.  '  John  Blunt,'  Macmath  MS.,  p.  74. 

C. '  Johnie  Blunt,'  Johnson's  Museum,  IV,  376,  No  365, 
1792. 


Stenhouse  notes  that  this  ballad  furnished 
Prince  Hoare  with  the  principal  scene  in  his 
musical  entertainment  of  "  No  Song,  no  Sup- 
per," produced  in  1790,  and  long  a  favorite 
on  the  stage.  (Musical  Museum,  1853,  IV, 
292.) 

This  tale  is  one  of  a  group  which  may  or 
may  not  have  had  a  single  archetype.  Of  the 
varieties,  that  which  comes  nearest  is  the  first 
story  in  Straparola's  Eighth  Day.  Husband 
and  wife  are  sitting  near  the  entrance  of  their 
house  one  night ;  the  husband  says.  It  is  time 
to  go  to  bed,  shut  the  door ;  she  says.  Shut 
it  yourself.  They  make  a  compact  that  the 
one  who  speaks  first  shall  shut  the  door.  The 
wife,  tired  of  silence  and  growing  sleepy,  goes 
to  bed ;  the  husband  stretches  himself  on  a 
bench.  A  gentleman's  servant,  whose  lan- 
tern has  been  put  out  by  the  wind,  seeing  the 
door  open,  asks  for  a  light.  There  is  no  re- 
ply. Advancing  a  little  way  into  the  house, 
he  finds  the  man  lying  on  the  bench  with  his 
eyes  open,  but  can  get  no  word  from  him 
though  he  shakes  him.  Looking  round,  he 
sees  the  woman  in  bed  and  addresses  her,  but 
she  is  as  dumb  as  her  husband  ;  he  gets  into 
the  bed.  The  woman  says  nothing  till  the 
intruder  goes  away ;  then  calls  out,  A  pretty 
man  you,  to  leave  the  door  open  all  night  and 
let  people  get  into  your  bed.  Fool,  he  says, 
now  go  shut  the  door.  The  same,  with  in- 
significant divergences,  in  L'Elite  des  Contes 
du  Sieur  d'Ouville,  Rouen,  1699,  I,  159. 

A  wedding-feast  over,  neither  bridegroom 
nor  bride  will  consent  to  shut  the  street-door ; 


275.     GET  UP  AND  BAR  THE  DOOR 


97 


the  lady  proposes  that  the  one  who  speaks 
first  shall  do  this,  to  which  the  bridegroom 
agrees.  They  sit  looking  at  each  other  in  si- 
lence for  two  hours.  Thieves,  seeing  the  door 
open,  come  in,  pillage  the  house,  and  even 
strip  the  young  pair  of  everything  valuable 
that  they  have  on  them,  but  neither  says  a 
word.  In  the  morning  a  patrol  of  police  find 
the  house  door  open,  enter,  and  make  an  in- 
spection. The  chief  demands  an  explanation 
of  the  state  of  things ;  neither  man  nor  woman 
vouchsafes  a  response,  and  he  orders  their 
heads  off.  The  executioner  is  beginning  with 
the  husband  ;  the  wife  cries  out.  Spare  him ! 
the  husband  exclaims,  You  have  lost,  go  shut 
")  the  door.  (The  Arabian  tale  of  Sulayman 
Bey  and  the  Three  Story-Tellers,  cited  by 
Clouston,  Popular  Tales  and  Fictions,  II,  29.) 

Hemp-eaters,  who  have  found  a  sequin  and 
bought  a  mass  of  food,  quarrel  about  fasten- 
ing the  gate  of  a  tomb  to  which  they  have 
retired,  to  gorge  unmolested.  They  come  to 
an  agreement  that  the  man  who  first  speaks 
shall  close  the  gate.  They  let  the  victuals 
stand  and  sit  mute.  A  troop  of  dogs  rush  in 
and  eat  all  up  clean.  One  of  the  party  had 
secured  some  of  the  provender  in  advance  of 
the  rest,  and  bits  are  sticking  to  his  mouth. 
A  dog  licks  them  away,  and  in  so  doing  bites 
the  lip  of  the  fellow,  who,  in  his  pain,  raps 
out  a  curse  on  the  dog.  The  rest  shout,  Get 
\  up  and  shut  the  gate !  (Turkish,  Behrnauer, 
Die  vierzig  Veziere,  p.  175  f. ;  Gibb,  The 
History  of  the  Forty  Vezirs,  p.  171  f.) 

In  the  second  Pickelheringsspiel,  in  the 
first  part  of  Engelische  Comedien  und  Tra- 
gedien,  1620,  a  married  pair  contend  again 
about  the  shutting  of  a  door.  (R.  Kohler ; 
not  seen  by  me.) 

In  other  cases,  speaking  first  entails  a  pen- 
alty different  from  shutting  a  door. 

A  young  pair,  lying  in  bed  the  first  night 
after  marriage,  engage  that  whichever  of  the 
two  gets  up  first  or  speaks  first  shall  wash 
the  dishes  for  a  week.  The  husband,  pre- 
tending to  make  his  will  by  the  process  of 
expressing  by  signs  his  acceptance  or  rejec- 
tion of  the  suggestions  of  a  friend,  bequeaths 
away  from  his   wife  a  handsome  article  of 

VOL.   V.  18 


dress  belonging  to  her.  The  wife  utters  a 
protest,  and  has  to  wash  the  dishes.  (Novelle 
di  Sercambi,  ed.  d'Ancona,  p.  16,  No  3,  '  De 
simplicitate  viri  et  uxoris.') 

A  man  complains  of  dry  bread  which  his 
wife  has  given  him  for  his  supper.  She  tells 
him  to  get  up  and  moisten  it ;  he  bids  her 
do  this,  but  she  refuses.  It  is  finally  settled 
that  the  one  that  speaks  first  shall  moisten 
the  bread.  A  visitor  comes  in  and  can  make 
neither  of  them  say  a  word.  He  kisses  the 
wife,  gives  the  husband  a  blow  on  the  cheek ; 
no  word  from  either.  He  makes  complaint 
to  the  kdzi ;  the  husband  will  say  nothing 
when  brought  before  the  k^zi,  and  is  con- 
demned to  be  hanged.  At  the  moment  of 
execution  the  wife  ejaculates,  Alas,  my  un- 
fortunate husband!  You  devil,  says  he,  go 
home  and  moisten  the  bread  !  (An  Arabian 
story  in  Beloe's  Oriental  Apologues,  cited  by 
Clouston,  II,  21.) 

A  shoemaker  and  his  wife  agree  that  the 
one  who  speaks  first  shall  carry  back  a  frying- 
pan  that  they  have  borrowed.  A  soldier  who 
requires  a  girth  for  his  horse  asks  the  shoe- 
maker to  cut  him  one,  but  gets  no  answer, 
though  he  threatens  to  take  off  the  man's  head. 
Enraged  at  last,  he  seizes  the  shoemaker  by 
the  head  to  do  what  he  had  menaced,  when 
the  wife  cries  out.  For  mercy's  sake,  don't ! 
Well  done !  says  the  husband,  now  carry  back 
the  pan.  (Bemoni,  Fiabe  pop.  veneziane, 
p.  67,  No  13,  '  La  Scomessa ; '  Crane,  Italian" 
Popular  Tales,  p.  284.) 

John  makes  terms  with  his  wife  that 
which  of  the  two  eats  first  of  a  soup  which 
she  has  brought  in,  or  speaks  the  first  word, 
shall  have  a  beating.  William,  of  whom  the 
husband  is  jealous,  comes  to  offer  his  com- 
pany to  go  to  a  fight  which  is  to  come  off. 
Man  and  wife  will  neither  eat  nor  speak,  and 
he  thinks  them  possessed.  He  takes  the 
woman  by  the  hand,  and  she  goes  with  him. 
John  cries  out,  Let  my  wife  be !  She  says, 
John,  you  have  spoken  and  lost.  (Ayrers 
Dramen,  ed.  von  Keller,  III,  2006-08.) 

A  man  who  has  been  taunting  his  wife  as 
a  cackler  is  challenged  by  her  to  a  trial  at 
silence.     A  tinker  comes  in  asking  for  kettles 


y 


t^~ 


98 


375.    GET  UP  AND  BAR  THE  DOOR 


to  mend.  He  can  make  neither  of  them  open 
their  mouth,  and,  as  a  last  resource,  ofEers  to 
kiss  the  woman.     The  husband  cannot  con- 


tain himself ;  the  wife  says,  You  have  lost  I     109  fE.)* 


and  remains  mistress  of  the  house,  as  she  had 
been  before.  (Farce  d'un  Chauldronnifer, 
Viollet  Le  Due,  Ancien  Theatre  Francois,  II, 


a.  Herd,  The  Ancient  and  Modern  Scots  Songa,  1769, 
p.  330.  b.  [Pinkerton],  Select  Scotish  Ballads,  1783,  11, 
150. 

1  It  fell  about  the  Martinmas  time, 

And  a  gay  time  it  was  then, 
When  our  goodwif  e  got  puddings  to  make, 
And  she 's  boild  them  in  the  pan. 

2  The  wind  sae  cauld  blew  south  and  north, 

And  blew  into  the  floor ; 
Quoth  our  goodman  to  our  goodwife, 
'  Gae  out  and  bar  the  door.' 

3  *  My  hand  is  in  my  hussyf  skap, 

Goodman,  as  ye  may  see  ; 
An  it  shoud  nae  be  barrd  this  hundred  year, 
It 's  no  be  barrd  for  me.' 

4  They  made  a  paction  tween  them  twa, 

They  made  it  firm  and  sure,  • 

That  the  first  word  whaeer  shoud  speak, 
Shoud  rise  and  bar  the  door. 

5  Then  by  there  came  two  gentlemen, 

At  twelve  o  clock  at  night, 
And  they  could  neither  see  house  nor  hall, 
Nor  coal  nor  candle-light. 


6  *  Now  whether  is  this  a  rich  man's  house, 

Or  whether  is  it  a  poor  ? ' 
But  neer  a  word  wad  ane  o  them  speak, 
For  barring  of  the  door. 

7  And  first  they  ate  the  white  puddings, 

And  then  they  ate  the  black ; 
Tho  muckle  thought  the  goodwife  to  hersel. 
Yet  neer  a  word  she  spake. 

8  Then  said  the  one  unto  the  other, 

'  Here,  man,  tak  ye  my  knife ; 
Do  ye  tak  aff  the  auld  man's  beard. 
And  I  '11  kiss  the  goodwife.' 

9  *  But  there 's  nae  water  in  the  house, 

And  what  shall  we  do  than  ? ' 

*  What  ails  ye  at  the  pudding-broo. 

That  boils  iuto  the  pan  ?  ' 

10  0  up  then  started  our  goodman, 

An  angry  man  was  he  : 

*  Will  ye  kiss  my  wife  before  my  een. 

And  scad  me  wi  pudding-bree  ?  ' 

11  Then  up  and  started  our  goodwife, 

Gied  three  skips  on  the  floor : 

*  Goodman,  you  've  spoken  the  foremost  word, 

Get  up  and  bar  the  door.' 


-/ 


B 


Macmath  MS.  p.  74.  "  From  the  singing  of  Miss  Jane 
Webster,  15th  October,  1886,  and  26th  August,  1887,  who 
learned  it  at  Airds  of  Eells,  Kirkcudbrightshire,  many 
years  ago,  from  James  McJaunet." 

1  There  leeved  a  wee  man  at  the  fit  o  yon  hill, 
John  Blunt  it  was  his  name,  O 

And  he  seUd  Hquor  and  ale  o  the  best. 
And  bears  a  wondrous  fame.  O 

Tal  lara  ta  hit,  tal  lare  a  lilt, 

Tal  lara  ta  lilt,  tal  lara 


2  The  wind  it  blew  frae  north  to  south, 

It  blew  into  the  floor ; 
Says  auld  John  Blunt  to  Janet  the  wife, 
Ye  maun  rise  up  and  bar  the  door. 

3  '  My  bans  are  in  my  husseyskep, 

I  canna  weel  get  them  free. 
And  if  ye  dinna  bar  it  yersel 
It  '11  never  be  barred  by  me.' 

*  All  the  above  have  been  cited  by  Beinhold  Eohler, 
Jahrbuch  f tir  romanische  u.  englische  Literatur,  XII,  348  f ., 
or  by  Clouston,  Popular  Tales  and  Fictions,  II,  15  £f. 


275.    GET  UP  AND  BAR  THE  DOOR 


99 


4  They  made  it  up  atween  them  twa, 

They  made  it  unco  sure, 
That  the  ane  that  spoke  the  foremost  word 
Was  to  rise  and  bar  the  door. 

5  There  was  twa  travellers  travelling  late, 

Was  travelling  cross  the  muir, 
And  they  cam  unto  wee  John  Blunt's, 
Just  by  the  light  o  the  door. 


6  '  0  whether  is  this  a  rich  man's  house, 
Or  whether  is  it  a  puir  ? ' 
But  never  a  word  would  the  auld  bodies 
For  the  barring  o  the  door. 


7  First  they  bad  good  een  to  them, 
And  syne  they  bad  good  morrow ; 
But  never  a  word  would  the  auld  bodies  speak. 
For  the  barring  o  the  door,  O. 


8  First  they  ate  the  white  puddin, 

And  syne  they  ate  the  black, 
And  aye  the  auld  wife  said  to  hersel. 
May  the  deil  slip  down  wi  that ! 

9  And  next  they  drank  o  the  liquor  sae  strong, 

And  syne  they  drank  o  the  yill : 

*  And  since  we  hae  got  a  house  o  our  ain 

I  'm  sure  we  may  tak  our  fill.' 

10  It 's  says  the  ane  imto  the  ither, 

Here,  man,  tak  ye  my  knife, 
An  ye  '11  scrape  aff  the  auld  man's  beard. 
While  I  kiss  the  gudewife. 

11  '  Ye  hae  eaten  my  meat,  ye  hae  drucken  my 

drink, 
Ye  'd  make  my  auld  wife  a  whore ! ' 

*  John  Blunt,  ye  hae  spoken  the  foremost  word, 

Ye  maun  rise  up  and  bar  the  door/ 


Johnson's  Museum,  IV,  376,  No  365, 1792.   Contributed 
by  Robert  Burns. 

1  Thebe  livd  a  man  in  yonder  glen, 

And  John  Blunt  was  his  name ;  O 
He  maks  gude  maut  and  he  brews  gude  ale. 
And  he  bears  a  wondrous  fame.  O 

2  The  wind  blew  in  the  hallan  ae  night, 

Fu  snell  out  oer  the  moor  ; 
*  Rise  up,  rise  up,  auld  Luckie,'  he  says, 
*  Rise  up,  and  bar  the  door.' 

3  They  made  a  paction  tween  them  twa, 

They  made  it  firm  and  sure, 
Whaeer  sud  speak  the  foremost  word 
Should  rise  and  bar  the  door. 


4  Three  travellers  that  had  tint  their  gate, 

As  thro  the  hills  they  foor, 
They  airted  by  the  line  o  light 

Pa  straught  to  Johnie  Blunt's  door. 

5  They  haurld  auld  Luckie  out  o  her  bed 

And  laid  her  on  the  floor, 
But  never  a  word  auld  Luckie  wad  say, 
For  barrin  o  the  door. 

6  *  Ye  've  eaten  my  bread,  ye  hae  druken  my  ale, 

And  ye  '11  mak  my  auld  wife  a  whore ! ' 
<A  ha,  Johnie  Blunt!  ye  hae  spoke  the  first 
word, 
Get  up  and  bar  the  door.' 


A.  a»  Johnson's  Museum  has  these  variations  : 
2*.  Gat  up  and. 

4'.  first  who  should  speak  the  foremost  word, 
b.  1'.  That  our  gudewife  had.     1*.  she  boild. 
2\  wind  blew  cauld  frae  east.   2*.  Get  up  and. 
3'.  hunder.     3*.  Its  neer  be  barrd  by. 
4^  word  whaever  spak.     5*.  come. 
5'.  Whan  they  can  see  na  ither  house. 


5*.  And  at  the  door  they  light.   7*.  And  syne. 

7*.  Tho  wanting. 

8^  Then  ane  unto  the  ither  said.     9'.  bree. 

11\  O  up  then  started. 

11*.  you  have  spak  the  first  word. 

O  is  added  to  the  second  and  fourth  lines  for 

singing,  in  both  of  the  Museum  copies  and 

in'B. 


100 


276.     THE  FRIAR   IN  THE  WELL 


V 


276 
THE  FRIAR  IN  THE  WELL 


A.  a.  '  The  Fryer  well  fitted,'  etc.,  Rawlinson  Ballads, 
566,  fol.  63,  4°.  b,  '  The  Fryer  well  fitted,'  etc., 
Roxburghe  Ballads,  II,  172  ;  Ebsworth,  Roxburghe 
Ballads,  VII,  222.  c.  'The  Fryer  and  the  Maid,' 
Wit  and  Mirth,  or,  Pills  to  purge  Melancholy,  "I, 
340,  1707,"  III,  325,  1719. 


B.  a.  *  The  Friar  and  Fair  Maid,'  Buchan's  MSS,  II, 
351.  b.  'The  Friar,'  Kinloch  MSS,  VI,  97.  c. 
Kinloch  MSS,  V,  60. 


7 


^ 


The  broadside,  A  a,  b,  is  found  in  many 
other  collections :  Pepys,  III,  145,  No  143 ; 
Crawford,  No  94,  etc.  (see  Ebsworth).  B, 
the  Scottish  ballad  (an  improvement  on  the 
English),  is  without  doubt  derived  from  print, 
but  not  directly  from  A  a,  b.  In  B  the  maid 
feigns  to  be  afraid  of  her  master,  as  in  A  c, 
not  of  her  father.  From  Halliwell's  Notices 
of  Fugitive  Tracts,  p.  37,  No  49,  Percy  So- 
ciety, vol.  xxix,  we  learn  that  The  Royal  Gar- 
land of  Protestant  Delight,  London,  1689,  has 
a  ballad  with  the  title  '  The  witty  lass  of  Som- 
ersetshire, or  the  fryer  servd  in  his  kind,'  with 
an  "  answer,"  in  the  last  stanza  of  which  '  the 
inn-keeper,  her  master,'  laughs  at  the  fryer's 
disaster. 

The  tune  of  '  The  Friar  in  the  Well '  occurs 
in  The  Dancing  Master,  from  1650  to  1686: 
Chappell's  Popular  Music,  p.  274.  Munday, 
in  his  'Downfall  of  Robert,  Earl  of  Hunt- 
ington,' Act  iv,  Scene  2,  1598,  refers  to  the 
*  merry  jest  .  .  .  how  the  friar  fell  into  the 
well,  for  love  of  Jenny,  that  fair  bonny  belle.' 
A  reference  of  Skelton's  in  his  Colyn  Cloute  * 
carries  the  story,  and  almost  certainly  the  bal- 
lad, back  to  the  first  quarter  of  the  sixteenth 
,  century. 

The  copy  in  Kinloch's  Ballad  Book,  p.  25, 
was  compounded  by  the  editor  from  B  b,  c. 

A  maid,  solicited  by  a  friar,  says  that  she 

♦  But  when  the  freare  fell  in  the  well 
He  coud  not  syng  himselfe  theroat 
But  by  the  helpe  of  Christyan  Clout. 

(vv.  879-91.) 


fears  hell-fire ;  the  friar  reminds  her  that  if 
she  were  in  hell  he  could  sing  her  out.  She 
stipulates  for  money  in  advance ;  while  the 
friar  is  gone  to  fetch  some,  she  hangs  (spreads) 
a  cloth  before  (over)  a  well.  The  money  in 
hand,  she  calls  out  that  her  father  (master) 
is  coming  ;  the  friar  runs  to  hide  behind  the 
cloth  (a  screen),  and  falls  into  the  well.  The 
friar  cries  for  help ;  he  is  left  to  sing  himself 
out.  Extricated  after  a  sufficient  cooling,  he 
asks  his  money  back,  but  is  told  that  he  must 
pay  for  fouling  the  water. 

This  story,  one  might  safely  say,  is  not  be- 
yond the  "  imaginary  forces  "  of  any  Western 
people,  but  an  open  well  inside  of  an  English 
house  is  at  least  of  unusual  occurrence,  and 
if  we  find  something  of  the  kind  to  our  hand 
in  an  Eastern  tale  of  similar  character,  a  bor- 
rowing seems  more  plausible  than  an  inven- 
tion. There  is  a  considerable  class  of  tales, 
mostly  Oriental,  in  which  a  chaste  wife  dis- 
comfits two  or  three  would-be  seducers,  bring- 
ing them  to  shame  and  ridicule  in  the  end. 
In  some,  she  exacts  or  receives  money  from 
her  suitors  at  the  outset ;  in  some,  an  allega- 
tion that  her  husband  is  coming  is  the  pretext 
for  her  concealing  them.  An  example  in 
English  is  *  The  Wright's  Chaste  Wife,'  by 
Adam  of  Cobsam,  edited  for  the  Early  English 
Text  Society,  in  1865,  by  Dr  Fumivall.  In 
this,  three  men  successively  are  tumbled 
through  a  trap  door  into  an  underground 
room.  But  in  the  Persian  Ttitf  Ndma,  or 
Book  of  the  Parrot,  of  Nakhshabi,  the  wife 


276.  THE  FRIAR  IN  THE  WELL 


101 


lays  a  bed  over  a  dry  well,  her  suitors  are 
invited  to  sit  on  it,  and  they  fall  in ;  and 
here,  it  is  not  extravagant  to  suppose,  we 
may  have  the  remote  source  of  the  trick  in 
our  ballad.* 

There  is  a  French  ballad  of  the  same  gen- 
eral type  :  '  Le  lourdaud  moine,'  Tarbd,  Ro- 
mancero  de  Champagne,  II,  135  ;  '  Le  moine 
Nicolas,'  Bujeaud,  II,  284.  A  monk,  enam- 
ored of  a  married  woman,  is  appointed  to 
come  to  her  while  her  husband  is  away ;  he 
is  told  to  lay  off  his  frock,  which  she  secures, 
and  she  takes  money  which  he  has  brought. 
He  is  then  sent  to  the  door  to  see  if  the  hus- 
band be  coming,  and  is  locked  out.  He  asks 
to  have  his  frock  and  money  returned;  she 


will  keep  them  for  her  husband.  The  con- 
vent jeer  at  him  when  he  comes  back  :  '  Dieu 
bdnisse  la  comm^re  qui  t'a  jou^  ce  tour-la ! ' 

'  Munken  i  Vaande,'  a  rather  flat  Danish 
ballad  from  a  MS.  of  the  16th  century,  tells  of 
a  monk  who  knocks  at  the  door  of  a  woman 
whom  he  has  been  courting,  and  calls  to  her 
to  keep  her  word ;  she  tells  her  husband  to 
slip  under  the  bed,  and  lets  the  monk  in ;  the 
monk  hands  the  woman  gold  rings  which  he 
had  promised ;  the  goodman  comes  out  and 
gives  him  a  beating  ;  the  monk  leaps  out  of 
the  window  and  goes  to  his  cloister;  his 
superior  asks  why  he  has  been  away ;  he  has 
been  shriving  the  farmer's  wife,  and  it  has 
nearly  cost  him  his  life. 


^ 


a.  RawHnson,  566,  fol.  63,4°.  b.  Roxbnrghe,  II,  172; 
Ebsworth,  Roxburghe  Ballads,  VII,  222.  c.  D'Urfey's 
Pills  to  purge  Melancholy,  ed.  1719,  III,  325. 

1  As  I  lay  musing  all  alone, 

fa,  la,  la,  la,  la 
A  pretty  jeast  I  thought  upon ; 

fa,  la,  la,  la,  la 
Then  listen  a  while,  and  I  will  you  tell 
Of  a  fryer  that  loved  a  bonny  lass  well. 

fa,  la,  la,  la,  la 

fa,  la,  la,  lang-tre-down-dilly 

2  He  came  to  the  maid  when  she  went  to  bed, 
Desiring  to  have  her  maidenhead, 

But  she  denygd  his  desire. 

And  told  him  that  she  feard  hell-fire. 

3  '  Tush,'   quoth   the   fryer,    '  thou   needst  not 

doubt 
If  thou  wert  in  hell  I  could  sing  thee  out : ' 
'  Then,'  quoth  the  maid,  '  thou  shalt  have  thy 

request ; ' 
The  fryer  was  glad  as  a  fox  in  his  nest. 

4  '  But  one  thing,'  quoth  she,  '  I  do  desire, 
Before  you  have  what  you  require  ; 

*  For  the  class  of  tales  referred  to,  see  von  der  Hagen, 
Gesammtabenteuer,  III,  xxxv  f.,  lxxxiii  f. ;  Reinhold 
Kohler,  in  Jahrbuch  fiir  romanische  und  englische  Litera- 


Bef  ore  that  you  shall  do  the  thing, 
An  angel  of  mony  thou  shalt  me  bring.* 

6  *  Tush,'  quoth  the  fryer,  '  we  shall  agree, 
No  mony  shall  part  my  love  and  me  ; 
Before  that  I  will  see  thee  lack, 
I  'le  pawn  the  grey  gown  from  my  hack.' 

6  The  maid  bethought  her  of  a  wile 
How  she  the  fryer  might  beguile  ; 
While  he  was  gone,  the  truth  to  tell, 
She  hung  a  cloth  before  the  well. 

7  The  fryer  came,  as  his  covenant  was, 
With  money  to  his  bonny  lass ; 

*  Good  morrow,  fair  maid ! '  '  Good  morrow  ! ' 

quoth  she. 

*  Here  is  the  mony  I  promised  thee.' 

8  She  thankt  the  man,  and  she  took  his  mony : 

*  Now  let  us  go  to  't,'  quoth  he, '  sweet  hony : ' 

*  0  stay,'  quoth  she,  '  some  respite  make, 
My  father  comes,  he  will  me  take.' 

9  '  Alas  !  *  quoth  the  fryer,  '  where  shall  I  run, 
To  hide  me  till  that  he  be  gone  ?  ' 

*  Behinde  the  cloath  nm  thou,'  quoth  she, 
'  And  there  my  father  cannot  thee  see.' 

tur,  VIII,  44-65;  Clotiston,  Popular  Tales  and  Fictions, 
II,  289-310. 


102 


276.    THE  FRIAR  IN  THE  WELL 


10  Behind  the  cloath  the  fryer  crept, 

And  into  the  well  on  the  sudden  he  leapt  ;• 

'  Alas,'  quoth  he,  '  I  am  in  the  well ! ' 

*  No  matter,'  quoth  she, '  if  thou  wert  in  hell. 

11  *  Thou  sayst  thou  couldst  sing  me  out  of  hell, 
Now  prithee  sing  thy  self  out  of  the  well ; ' 
The  fryer  sung  with  a  pittiful  sound. 

Oh  help  me  out,  or  I  shall  he  dround ! 

12  *  I  trow,'  quoth  she,  *  your  courage  is  coold.' 
Quoth  the  fryer,  I  was  never  so  foold, 

I  never  was  served  so  before. 
'  Then  take  heed,'  quoth  she,  '  thou  comst  there 
no  more.' 

13  Quoth  he,  For  sweet  Saint  Francis  sake 
On  his  disciple  some  pitty  take : 


Quoth  she.  Saint  Francis  never  taught 

His  scholars  to  tempt  young  maids  to  naught. 

14  The  fryer  did  entreat  her  still 

That  she  should  help  him  out  of  the  well ; 
She  heard  him  make  such  pittious  moan 
She  helpd  him  out,  and  bid  him  be  gone. 

15  Quoth  he.  Shall  I  have  my  mony  again, 
Which  thou  from  me  hast  beforehand  tane  ? 

*  Good  sir,'  said  she,  '  there 's  no  such  matter ; 
I  'le  make  you  pay  for  fouling  my  water.* 

16  The  fryer  went  all  along  the  street, 
Droping  wet,  like  a  new-washd  sheep ; 
Both  old  and  yoimg  commended  the  maid 
That  such  a  witty  prank  had  plaid. 


B 


a.  Buchan's  MSS,  U,  351.  b.  Kinloch  MSS,  VI,  97,  in 
Kinloch's  handwriting,  c.  Kinloch  MSS,  V,  60,  in  the 
handwriting  of  James  Beattie. 

1  O  HEARKEN  and  hear,  and  I  will  you  tell 

Sing,  Faldidae,  f  aldidadi 
Of  a  friar  that  loved  a  fair  maiden  well. 
Sing,  Faldi  dadi  di  di  {bis) 

2  The  friar  he  came  to  this  maiden's  bedside. 
And  asking  for  her  maidenhead. 

3*01  would  grant  you  your  desire. 

If  't  werena  for  fear  o  hell's  burning  fire.' 

4  '  O  hell's  burning  fire  ye  need  have  no  doubt ; 
Altho  you  were  in,  I  could  whistle  you  out.' 

6  *  O  if  I  grant  to  you  this  thing, 

Some  money  you  unto  me  must  bring.' 

6  He  brought  her  the  money,  and  did  it  down 
•    tell; 
She  had  a  white  cloth  spread  over  the  well. 


7  Then  the  fair  maid  cried  out  that  her  master 

was  come ; 
*  O,'  said  the  friar,  '  then  where  shall  I  run  ? ' 

8  *  O  ye  will  go  in  behind  yon  screen, 

And  then  by  my  master  ye  winna  be  seen.' 

9  Then  in  behind  the  screen  she  him  sent. 
But  he  fell  into  the  well  by  accident. 

10  Then  the  friar  cried  out  with  a  piteous  moan, 
O  help  !  O  help  me !  or  else  I  am  gone. 

11  *  Ye  said  ye  wad  whistle  me  out  o  hell ; 
Now  whistle  your  ain  sel  out  o  the  well.* 

12  She  helped  him  out  and  bade  him  be  gone ; 
The  friar  he  asked  his  money  again. 

13  '  As  for  your  money,  there  is  no  much  matter 
To  make  you  pay  more  for  jumbling  our  water.' 

14  Then  all  who  hear  it  commend  this  fair  maid 
For  the  nimble  trick  to  the  friar  she  played. 

15  The  friar  he  walked  on  the  street. 

And  shaking  his  lugs  like  a  well-washen  sheep. 


276.    THE  FRIAR  IN  THE  WELL 


103 


A.  a,  b.  The  Fryer  well  fitted,  or, 
A  pretty  jest  that  once  befell, 
How  a  Maid  put  a  Fryer  to  cool  in  the  welL 
"^  To  a  merry  tune. 

a.  London.     Printed  for  F.  Coles,  T.  Vere,  and 

J.  Wright. 

b.  Printed  for  W.  Thackeray  and  T.  Passinger. 

a.  3i'8,  7«,  8»»,  9^-8, 10*,  12*,  qd./(W  quoth. 
7».  qd.  he.     8'.  too't.     8*.  Oh. 

10\  did  crept.      16^.  Drooping. 

b.  6*.  my  grey.    7*.  quoth  she.    10^.  fryer  crept. 
10".  on  a.     11'.  sung  on.     12^^.  never  was. 
14".  she  would.     15".  Which  from  me  thou. 
16".  Dropping. 

o.  The  variations  are  insignificant  until  we 

come  to  8' ;  from  that    point  this    copy 

(which  is  abridged)  runs  as  follows : 

8*.        '  Nay,  stay  a  while,  some  respite  make  ; 

If  my  master  should  come  he  would  us 

take. 

9.  '  Alas,'  quoth  the  maid, '  my  master  doth 

come ! ' 
'  Alas ! '  quoth  the  fryer,  *  where  shall  I 

run? ' 
■    *  Behind  yon  cloth  run  thou,'  quoth  she, 
'  For  there  my  master  cannot  see.' 

10.  Behind  the  cloth  the  fryer  went, 
And  was  in  the  well  incontinent. 

'  Alas,'  quoth  he,  *  I  'm  in  the  well !  * 
*  No  matter,'  quoth  she,  *  if  thou  wert  in 
hell. 

11^'".  '  Thou  saidst  thou  could  sing  me  out  of 

hell, 
I  prithee  sing  thy  self  out  of  the  well. 
Sing  out,'  quoth  she, '  with  all  thy  might, 
Or  else  thou'rt  like  to  sing  there  all 

night.' 

IIH  The  fryer  sang  out  with  a  pitiful  sound, 
Oh  help  me  out,  or  I  shall  be  drownd ! 

14''*.  She  heard  him  make  such  pitiful  moan 
She  hope  [  =  holp]  him  out  and  bid  him 
go  home. 


12''*.  Quoth  the  fryer,  I  never  was  servd  so 
before : 
*  Away,'  quoth  the  wench,  *  come  here 
no  more.' 

16^'".  The  fryer  he  waJkd  along  the  street 
As  if  he  had  been  a  new-washd  sheep. 

Sing,  hey  down  a  derry,  and  let 's  be 

merry, 
And  from  such  sin  ever  keep. 

The  fa  la  burden  is  not  given. 

B.  b.  Apparently  a  revised  by  Kinloch. 
4".  sing /or  whistle.     7".  then  wanting. 
10^  a  wanting.     15".  sheet /or  sheep. 

O.  1.  Listen  and  I  will  you  tell 

Wi  a  f alaldirry,  f alaldirry 
How  a  friar  in  love  wi  a  lassie  fell. 
Wi  a  f  alee  and  latee  and  a  lee-tiddle- 
tiddle-tee 

7.  The  lassie  cries,  My  master  comes ! 
The  friar  cries,  Where  shall  I  run  ? 

8.  *  O  you  '11  do  you  in  below  this  cloth ; 
That  you  be  seen  I  wad  be  loth.' 

10.  The  friar  cries,  I  'm  in  the  well ! 
'  I  care  na  tho  you  were  in  hell. 

11.  *  You  said  you  w[a]d  sing  me  out  of  hell ; 
Sing  yoursell  out  o  the  well.' 

12.  *  If  you  '11  help  me  out,  I  will  be  gone, 
Back  to  you  I  '11  neuer  come.' 

She  helped  him  out,  and  he  was  begone  ; 
Back  to  her  he  never  came. 

15.  The  frier  he  gaed  up  the  street. 

Hanging  his  lugs  like  a  washen  sheet. 

2-6,  9, 13, 14,  wanting.  • 


104 


277.    THE  WIFE  WRAPT  IN  WETHER'S  SKIN 


277 

THE  WIFE  WRAPT  IN  WETHER'S  SKIN 

A.  a.  *  Sweet  Robin,'  Jamieson's  Popular  Ballads,  I,      C.  '  The  Cooper  of  Fife,'  Whitelaw,  The  Book  of  Scot- 
319.    b.  Macmath  MS.,  p.  100,  three  stanzas.  tish  Song,  p.  333. 

B.  '  Robin  he 's  gane  to  the  wude,'  Harris  MS.,  fol.      D.  Jamieson-Brown  MS.,  Appendix,  p.  iii. 
26  b. 

H.  Jamieson's  Popular  Ballads,  I,  324. 


Jamieson  cites  the  first  two  stanzas  of  A  a 
in  a  letter  of  inquiry  to  The  Scots  Magazine, 
October,  1803,  p.  700,  and  the  first  half  of  D 
(with  alterations)  in  his  preface,  Popular 
Ballads,  I,  320.  The  ballad,  he  says,  is  very 
popular  all  over  Scotland. 

Robin  has  married  a  wife  of  too  high  kin 
to  bake  or  brew,  wash  or  wring.  He  strips 
off  a  wether's  skin  and  lays  it  on  her  back, 
or  prins  her  in  it.  He  dares  not  beat  her, 
for  her  proud  kin,  but  he  may  beat  the  we- 
ther's skin,  and  does.  This  makes  an  ill  wife 
good. 

A  fragment  in  Herd's  MSB,  1, 105,  H,  161, 
belongs,  if  not  to  this  ballad,  at  least  to  one 
in  which  an  attempt  is  made  to  tame  a  shrew 
by  castigation. 

*  Now  tak  a  cud  in  ilka  hand 

And  bace  *  her  up  and  doun,  man, 

And  she  '11  be  an  o  the  best  wives 
That  ever  took  the  town,  man.' 

*  Bace  in  the  second  copy,  rightly,  that  is,  bash,  beat ; 
bare  in  the  first  (probably  mistranscribed). 

t  A  merry  jeste  of  a  shrewde  and  curste  wyfe  lapped  in 
Morrelles  skin  for  her  good  behauyour.  Imprinted  at  Lon- 
don in  Fleetestreete,  beneath  the  Conduite,  at  the  signe  of 
Saint  John  Euangelist,  by  H.  Jackson ;  without  date,  but 
earlier  than  1575,  since  the  book  was  in  Captain  Cox's 
library.  Eeprinted  in  Utterson's  Select  Pieces  of  Early 
Popular  Poetry,  1825,  II,  169 ;  The  Old  Taming  of  the 
Shrew,  edited  by  T.  Amyot  for  the  Shakespeare  Society, 
1844,  p.  53 ;  W.  C.  HazUtt's  Early  Popular  Poetry,  IV,  179. 


****** 
And  Jammie  's  turnd  him  round  about,  • 
He  's  done  a  manly  feat : 

*  Get  up,  get  up,  ye  dirty  slut, 

And  gie  to  me  my  meat.' 
****** 

*  Say  't  oer  again,  say  't  oer  again, 

Ye  thief,  that  I  may  hear  ye ; 
I  'se  gar  ye  dance  upon  a  peat, 
Gin  I  sail  cum  but  near  ye.' 

The  story  of  the  ballad  was  in  all  likeli- 
hood traditionally  derived  from  the  good  old 
tale  of  the  wife  lapped  in  Morrel's  skin.f 
Here  a  husband,  who  has  put  up  with  a  great 
deal  from  an  excessively  restive  wife,  flays 
his  old  horse  Morrell  and  salts  the  hide,  takes 
the  shrew  down  cellar,  and,  after  a  sharp  con- 
test for  mastery,  beats  her  with  birchen  rods 
till  she  swoons,  then  wraps  her  in  the  salted 
hide :  by  which  process  the  woman  is  perfectly 
reformed.:): 

i  These  passages  are  worth  noting  : 

She  can  carde,  she  can  spin,  * 

She  can  thresh  and  she  can  fan.    (y.  419  f.) 

In  eaery  hand  a  rod  he  gate       v 

And  layd  vpon  her  a  right  good  pace.    (v.  955  f.) 

Where  art  thou,  wife  ?  shall  I  haue  any  meate  ?   (v.  839.) 

(Compare  Herd's  fragments  with  the  last  two,  and  with 
903-10.) 


277.    THE  WIFE  WRAPT  IN  WETHER'S  SKIN 


105 


Jamieson's  Popular  Ballads,  1, 319.  "  From  the  recitation 
of  a  friend  of  the  editor's  in  Morayshire." 

1  She  wadna  bake,  she  wadna  brew, 

Hollin,  green  hollin 
For  spoiling  o  her  comely  hue. 
Bend  your  bow,  Robin 

2  She  wadna  wash,  she  wadna  wring, 
For  spoiling  o  her  gay  goud  ring. 

3  Robin  he  's  gane  to  the  fald 

And  catched  a  weather  by  the  spauld. 

4  And  he  has  killed  his  weather  black 
And  laid  the  skin  upon  her  back. 

5  '  I  darena  pay  you,  for  y6ur  kin, 
But  I  can  pay  my  weather's  skin. 


6  *  I  darena  pay  my  lady's  back, 
But  I  can  pay  my  weather  black.* 

7  '  O  Robin,  Robin,  lat  me  be. 
And  I  '11  a  good  wife  be  to  thee. 

8  '  It 's  I  will  wash,  and  I  will  wring, 
And  never  mind  my  gay  goud  ring. 

9  '  It 's  I  will  bake,  and  I  wiU  brew. 
And  never  mind  my  comely  hue. 

10  *  And  gin  ye  thinkna  that  eneugh, 

I  'se  tak  the  goad  and  I  'se  ca  the  pleugh. 

11  '  Gin  ye  ca  for  mair  whan  that  is  doon, 

I  '11  sit  i  the  neuk  and  I  '11  dight  your  shoon.' 


B 


Harris  MS.,  fol.  26  b.  No  25,  from  Miss  Harris. 

1  Robin  he 's  gane  to  the  wast, 

Hollin,  green  hollin 
He 's  waled  a  wife  amang  the  warst. 
Bend  your  bows,  Robin 

2  She  could  neither  bake  nor  brew. 
For  spoilin  o  her  bonnie  hue. 

3  She  could  neither  spin  nor  caird, 
But  fill  the  cup,  an  sair  the  laird. 

4  She  could  neither  wash  nor  wring, 
For  spoilin  o  her  gay  goud  ring. 

6  Robin 's  sworn  by  the  rude 

That  he  wald  mak  an  ill  wife  gade. 
VOL.  V.         14 


6  Robin  he  's  gaun  to  the  f  auld. 

An  taen  his  blaik  [wither]  by  the  spauld. 

7  He  's  taen  aff  his  wither's  skin 
An  he  has  preened  his  ain  wife  in. 

8  '  I  daurna  beat  my  wife,  for  a'  her  kin. 
But  I  may  beat  my  wither's  skin.' 

9  *  I  can  baith  bake  an  brew ; 
What  care  I  for  my  bonnie  hue  ? 

10  '  I  can  baith  wash  an  wring ; 
What  care  I  for  my  gay  gowd  ring  ? 

11  '  I  can  baith  spin  an  caird ; 
Lat  onybodie  sair  the  laird.' 

12  Robin  's  sworn  by  the  rude 

That  he  has  made  an  ill  wife  g^de. 


106 


277.    THE  WIFE  WRAPT  IN  WETHER'S  SKIN 


Whitelaw's  Book  of  Scottish  Song,  p.  333. 

1  There  was  a  wee  cooper  who  lived  in  Fife, 

Nickity,  nackity,  noo,  noo,  noo 
And  he  has  gotten  a  gentle  wife. 

Hey  Willie  Wallacky,  how  John  Dougall, 
Alane,  quo  Rushety,  roue,  roue,  roue 

2  She  wadna  bake,  nor  "she  wadna  brew, 
For  the  spoiling  o  her  comely  hue. 

3  She  wadna  card,  nor  she  wadna  spin, 
For  the  shaming  o  her  gentle  kin. 

4  She  wadna  wash,  nor  she  wadna  wring, 
For  the  spoiling  o  her  gouden  ring. 


5  The  cooper 's  awa  to  his  woo-pack 

And  has  laid  a  sheep-skin  on  his  wife's  back. 

6  *  It 's  T  '11  no  thrash  ye,  for  your  proud  kin. 
But  I  will  thrash  my  ain  sheep-skin.' 

7  *  Oh,  I  will  bake,  and  I  will  brew. 

And  never  mair  think  on  my  comely  hue. 

8  '  Oh,  I  will  card,  and  I  will  spin, 

And  never  mair  think  on  my  gentle  kin. 

9  *  Oh,  I  will  wash,  and  I  will  wring. 

And  never  mair  think  on  my  gouden  ring.' 

10  A'  ye  wha  hae  gotten  a  gentle  wife 
Send  ye  for  the  wee  cooper  o  Fife. 


Jamieson-Brown  MS.,  Appendix,  p.  iii,  letter  of  R.  Scott 
to  Jamieson,  June  9,  1805. 

1  There  livd  a  laird  down  into  Fife, 

Riftly,  raf tly,  now,  now,  now 
An  he  has  married  a  bonny  young  wife. 
Hey  Jock  Simpleton,  Jenny['s]  white  petti- 
coat, 
Bobin  a  Rashes,  now,  now,  now 

2  He  courted  her  and  he  brought  her  hame. 
An  thought  she  would  prove  a  thrifty  dame. 

3  She  could  neither  spin  nor  caird. 

But  sit  in  her  chair  and  dawt  the  laird. 


4  She  wadna  bake  and  she  wadna  brew, 
An  a'  was  for  spoiling  her  delicate  hue. 

5  She  wadna  wash  nor  wad  she  wring. 
For  spoiling  o  her  gay  goud  ring. 

6  But  he  has  taen  him  to  his  sheep-fauld. 
An  taen  the  best  weather  by  the  spauld. 

7  Aff  o  the  weather  he  took  the  skin, 
An  rowt  his  bonny  lady  in. 

8  *  I  dare  na  thump  you,  for  your  proud  kin, 
But  well  sail  I  lay  to  my  ain  weather's  skin.' 

******* 


E 

Jamieson's  Popular  Ballads,  I,  324. 

1  There  lives  a  landart  laird  in  Fife, 

And  he  has  married  a  dandily  wife. 

2  She  wadna  shape,  nor  yet  wad  she  sew. 
But  sit  wi  her  cummers  and  fill  hersell  fu. 

3  She  wadna  spin,  nor  yet  wad  she  card. 
But  she  wad  sit  and  crack  wi  the  laird. 


4  He  is  down  to  his  sheep-fald 

And  cleekit  a  weather  by  the  back-spald. 

5  He  *s  whirpled  aff  the  gude  weather's-skin 
And  wrappit  the  dandily  lady  therein. 

6  *  I  darena  pay  you,  for  your  gentle  kin. 
But  weel  I  may  skelp  my  weather's-skin.' 

******* 


278.    THE  FARMER'S  CURST  WIPIS 


107 


a.  The  refrain,  altered  by  Jamieson,  has  been 
restored  from  his  preface.  Five  stanzas 
added  hy  him  at  the  end  have  been  dropped. 

b.  From  the  recitation  of  Miss  Agnes  Macmath, 
29th  April,  1893  ;  learned  by  her  from  her 
mother,  who  had  it  from  her  mother,  Janet 
Spark,  Kirkcudbrightshire. 

2.  She  could  na  wash  and  she  could  na  wring, 
Hey,  Wullie  Wyliecot,  noo,  noo,  noo 
For  the  spoUing  o  her  gay  gold  ring. 


Wi   my  Hey,  "Wullie   Wyliecot,  tangie 

dooble. 
That  robes  in  the  rassiecot,  noo,  noo,  noo 
(Refrain  perhaps  corrupt.) 

3.  He 's  gane  oot  unto  the  f  auld. 

He  's  catched  a  wather  by  the  spaul. 

6.  '  I  darena  thrash  ye,  for  yer  kin. 
But  I  may  thrash  my  ain  wather-skin.' 


278 
THE  FAKMER'S  CURST  WIFE 


A.    *  The  Farmer's  Old  Wife,'  Dixon,  Ancient  Poems, 
Ballads,  and  Songs  of  the  Peasantry  of  England,  p. 


210,  Percy  Society,  voL  xviL    The  same  in  Bell, 
p.  204. 


B.   Macmath  MS.,  p.  96. 


The  devil  comes  for  a  farmer's  wife  and  is 
made  welcome  to  her  by  the  husband.  The 
woman  proves  to  be  no  more  controllable  in 
hell  than  she  had  been  at  home;  she  kicks 
the  imps  about,  and  even  brains  a  set  of  them 
with  her  pattens  or  a  maul.  For  safety's  sake, 
the  devil  is  constrained  to  take  her  back  to  her 
husband. 

B.  The  ballad  of  '  Kellyburnbraes,'  John- 
son's Museum,  No  379,  p.  392,  was  composed 
by  Burns,  as  he  has  himself  informed  us, "  from 
the  old  traditional  version."  "  The  original 
ballad,  still  preserved  by  tradition,"  says 
David  Laing,  "  was  much  improved  in  pass- 
ing through  Burns's  hands :  "  Museum,  IV, 
*389,  1853.  Cromek,  Remains  of  Nithsdale 
and  Galloway  Song,  p.  83,  1810,  gives  us 
what  he  calls  the  "  Original  of  Burns's  Carle 
of  Kelly-Burn  Braes,"  remarking,  with  some 
effrontery,  that  there  is  reason  to  believe  that 
Burns  had  not  seen  the  whole  of  the  verses 
which  constitute  this  copy.  Allan  Cunning- 
ham, Songs  of  Scotland,  II,  199,  undertook 


"  to  make  a  more  complete  version  than  has 
hitherto  appeared  "  out  of  Bums,  Cromek, 
and  some  "  fugitive  copies."  So  we  get  the 
original  from  none  of  them,  but  are,  rather, 
further  from  it  at  each  step.  Whether  B  has 
come  down  pure,  unaffected  by  Burns  and 
Cromek,  it  is  impossible  to  say.  That  it 
shows  resemblances  to  both  copies  is  not 
against  its  genuineness,  if  there  was  a  fair 
leaven  of  the  popular  ballad  in  each  of  these 
reconstructions ;  and  it  is  probable  that  there 
would  be,  at  least  in  Burns's. 

A  curst  wife  who  was  a  terror  to  demons  is 
a  feature  in  a  widely  spread  and  highly  hu- 
morous tale.  Oriental  and  European.  See 
Benfey,  Pantschatantra,  I,  619-34 ;  and,  for 
a  variety  which  is,  at  the  beginning,  quite 
close  to  our  ballad,  Ralston,  Russian  Folk- 
Tales,  p.  39  (Afanasief,  I,  No  9). 

Cromek's  ballad  is  translated  by  Wolff, 
Halle  der  Volker,  I,  93,  Hausschatz,  p.  230. 


108 


2T8.    THE  FARMER'S   CURST  WIFE 


\'^ 


Dixon,  Ancient  Poems,  Ballads,  and  Songs,  p.  210,  Percy 
Society,  vol.  xvii. 

1  There  was  an  old  farmer  in  Sussex  did  dwell, 

{Chorus  of  whistlers) 
There  was  an  old  farmer  in  Sussex  did  dwell, 
And  he  had  a  bad  wife,  as  many  knew  well. 

{Chorus  of  whistlers) 

2  Then  Satan  came  to  the  old  man  at  the  plough : 
'  One  of  your  family  I  must  have  now. 

3  '  It  is  not  your  eldest  son  that  I  crave, 

But  it  is  your  old  wife,  and  she  I  will  have.' 

4  '  O  welcome,  good  Satan,  with  all  my  heart ! 
I  hope  you  and  she  will  never  more  part.' 

5  Now  Satan  has  got  the  old  wife  on  his  back, 
And  he  lugged  her  along,  like  a  pedlar's  pack. 


6  He  trudged  away  till  they  came  to  his  hall-gate ; 
Says  he,  Here,  take  in  an  old  Sussex  chap's 

mate. 

7  O  then  she  did  kick  the  young  imps  about ; 
Says  one  to  the  other,  Let 's  try  turn  her  out. 

8  She  spied  thirteen  imps  all  dancing  in  chains, 
She  up  with  her  pattens  and  beat  out  their 

brains. 

9  She  knocked  the  old  Satan  against  the  wall : 
'  Let 's  turn  her  out,  or  she  '11  murder  us  all.' 

10  Now  he  's  bundled  her  up  on  his  back  amain, 
And  to  her  old  husband  he  took  her  again. 

11  *  I  have  been  a  tormentor  the  whole  of  my 

life, 
But  I  neer  was  tormented  so  as  with  your 
wife.' 


Macmath  MS.,  p.  96.  Taken  down  by  Mr  Macmath 
from  the  recitation  of  his  aunt,  Miss  Jane  "Webster,  Cross- 
michael,  Barkcudbrightshire,  August  27th,  1892;  learned 
many  years  ago,  at  Airda  of  Kells,  from  the  singing  of 
Samuel  Galloway. 

1  The  auld  Deil  cam  to  the  man  at  the  pleugh, 

Rumchy  ae  de  aidie 
Saying,  I  wish  ye  gude  luck  at  the  making  o 

yer  sheugh. 
Mushy  toorin  an  ant  tan  aira. 

2  '  It 's  neither  your  oxen  nor  you  that  I  crave ; 
It 's  that  old  scolding  woman,  it 's  her  I  must 

have.' 

3  '  Ye  're  welcome  to  her  wi  a'  my  gude  heart ; 
I  wish  you  and  her  it 's  never  may  part.' 

4  She  jumped  on  to  the  auld  Deil's  back. 
And  he  carried  her  awa  like  a  pedlar's  pack. 


6  He  carried  her  on  till  he  cam  to  hell's  door, 
He  gaed  her  a  kick  till  she  landed  in  the 
floor. 

6  She  saw  seven  wee  deils  a  sitting  in  a  raw. 
She  took  up  a  mell  and  she  murdered  them  a'. 

7  A  wee  reekit  deil  lookit  owre  the  wa : 
'  O  tak  her  awa,  or  she  '11  ruin  us  a'.' 

8  '  O  what  to  do  wi  her  I  canna  weel  tell ; 

She  's  no  fit  for  heaven,  and  she  '11  no  bide  in 
hell.' 


9  She  jumpit  on  to  the  auld  Deil's  back, 

And  he  carried  her  back  like  a  pedlar's  pack. 

******** 

10  She  was  seven  years  gaun,  and   seven  years 
comin, 
And  she  cried  for  the  sowens  she  left  in  the  pot. 


279.    THE  JOLLY  BEGGAR 


109 


279 
THE  JOLLY  BEGGAR 


A.  •  Ther  was  a  wife  in  yon  toun,'  "  Old  Lady's  Col- 
lection," No  36. 

B.  a.    'The  Jolly  Beggar,'  Herd,  The  Ancient  and 
Modern  Scots  Songs,  1769,  p.  46  ;  ed.  1776,  II,  26. 


b.  '  The  Jolly  Beggars,'  Curious  Tracts,  Scotland, 
British  Museum,  1078.  m.  24.  No  30  (a  collection 
made    by  James    Mitchell   at   Aberdeen   in   1828). 

c.  '  The  Jolly  Beggar-Man,'  Macmath  MS.,  p.  103, 
a  fragment,     d.  The  same,  a  fragment. 


I  HAVE  not  found  this  piece  in  any  printed 
collection  older  than  Herd,  1769,  but  it  is 
cited  in  the  second  edition  of  Percy's  Reliques, 
1767,  II,  59  (preface  to  '  The  Gaberlunyie- 
Man  '),  and  was  known  before  that  to  Horace 
Walpole,  who,  as  Percy  remarks,  confounds 
it  with  *  The  Gaberlunyie-Man,'  or  gives  it 
that  title :  Catalogue  of  Royal  and  Noble 
Authors,  II,  202  f.,  second  edition,  1759  (not 
mentioned  in  the  first  edition).  It  was  prob- 
ably in  circulation  as  a  flying-sheet.* 

We  are  regularly  informed  by  editors  that 
tradition  imputes  the  authorship  of  both  '  The 
Jolly  Beggar '  and  '  The  Gaberlunyie-Man  ' 
to  James  Fifth  of  Scotland.  '  The  Gaberlun- 
yie-Man' was,  so  far  as  can  be  ascertained, 
first  printed  in  the  Tea-Table  Miscellany  (in 
1724),  and  I  am  not  aware  that  it  is  men- 
tioned anywhere  before  that  date.  Ramsay 
speaks  of  it  as  an  old  piece,  but  says  nothing 
about  the  authorship.  The  tradition  as  to 
James  Fifth  is,  perhaps,  not  much  older  than 
the  publication  in  either  case,  and  has  no 
more  plausibility  than  it  has  authority. 

The  copies  in  Pinkerton's  Select  Scotish 
Ballads,  II,  35,  1783,  Johnson's  Museum, 
p.  274,  No  266, 1790,  Ritson's  Scotish  Songs, 
I,  168, 1794,  etc.,  are  all  from  Herd's  second 
edition,  1776.     In  this  we   have,  instead  of 

*  And  may  have  been  omitted  by  Ramsay  because  he 
"  kept  out  all  ribaldry  "  from  the  Tea-Table  Miscellany. 
This  is  not  a  Tea-Table  Miscellany,  and  I  have  no  discre- 
tion. 


•" 


the  Fa  la  la  burden,  the  following,  presuma- 
bly later  (see  Herd's  MSS,  I,  5)  : 
And  we  '11  gang  nae  mair  a  roving, 

Sae  late  into  the  night, 
And  we  'II  gang  nae  mair  a  roving,  boys, 

Let  the  moon  shine  near  sae  bright, 
And  we  '11  gang  nae  mair  a  roving. 

Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  124,  has  a  recited 
copy  which  seems  to  be  B  a  as  in  Herd,  1776, 
corrupted  by  oral  transmission.  It  does  not 
seriously  differ  from  the  original  until  we 
come  to  the  end,  where  we  find  an  absurd 
stanza  which  is  derived  from  B  b. 

The  variations  of  B  b  are  not  the  accidents 
of  tradition,  but  deliberate  alterations.  '  The 
Jovial  Beggarman,'  in  The  Forsaken  Lover's 
Garland,  No  15  of  a  collection  of  garlands, 
British  Museum,  11621.  e.  1  ("Newcastle? 
1750  ?  "),  is  a  rifacimento^  and  a  very  inferior 
piece.  Of  this  Rev.  S.  Baring-Gould  took 
down  a  copy  from  the  singing  of  a  laborer 
on  Dartmoor,  in  1889.f 

*  The  Jovial  Tinker  and  Farmer's  Daugh- 
ter,' British  Museum,  1346.  m.  7  (31),  '  The 
Tinker  and  Farmer's  Daughter's  Garland,* 
British  Museum,  11621.  a.  6  (34),  is  another  4^fo  <Al\  < 
rifacimento,  with  less  of  the  original  in  it.  i*.  7)«u^>-»,  . 
The  tinker,  we  are  told  at  the  outset,  is  a 
noble  lord  disguised.  ^><a//o^  L  ih>at 

I.  mj', 

t  I  owe  my  knowledge  of  all  of  these  three  copies  to  Mr 
Baring-Gould.  He  informs  me  that  the  ballad  which  he 
took  down  is  sung  thoughout  Cornwall  and  Devon. 


V^ 


110 


279.    THE  JOLLY  BEGGAR 


An  English  broadside  ballad  of  the  second  Cego,'  Almeida-Garrett,  III,  191,  No  35, 
half  of  the  seventeenth  century,  Pepys,  III,  Braga,  Romanceiro  Geral,  p.  147,  No  55,  and 
73,  No  71,  has  the  same  story  as  the  Scottish  Cantos  pop.  do  Archipelago  A9oriano,  p.  872, 
popular  ballad,  and  may  have  been  the  foun-  No  76  (all  in  Hartung,  II,  103  fE.),  which 
dation  of  it,  but  the  Scottish  ballad  is  a  far  Almeida-Garrett,  quite  extravagantly,  sup- 
superior  piece  of  vrork.  The  English  broad-  posed  might  be  derived  from  '  The  Gaberlun- 
side  is  given,  substantially,  in  the  notes.  yie-Man,'  brought   home  from   Scotland   by 

*  Der  Bettelman,'  Hoffmann  u.  Richter,  Portuguese  sailors.  There  is  an  accidental 
Schlesische  Volkslieder,  p.  45,  No  24,  has  a  similarity  in  one  or  two  points  with  the  Span- 
generic  resemblance  to  this  ballad.*  So,  more  ish  ballad  '  Tiempo  es,  el  caballero,'  Duran, 
remotely,  a  Flemish  ballad,  '  Ein  schoner  1, 163,  No  307,  Primavera,  II,  91,  No  158. 
Kriippel,'  Hoffmann,  Niederlandische  Volks-  *  The  Gaberlunyie-Man '  is  given  in  an 
lieder,  p.  129  and  elsewhere.  Again,  a  very  appendix, 
pretty   and  innocent  Portuguese  ballad,  'O 


**01d  Lady's  Collection,"  No  36. 


1  *  Ther  is  a  wife  in  yone  toun-end,  an  she  has 

dothers  three, 
An  I  wad  be  a  beager  for  ony  of  a'  the  three.' 

2  He  touk  his  clouty  clok  him  about,  his  peak- 

stafE  in  his  hand, 
An  he  is  awa  to  yon  toun-end,  leak  ony  peare 
man. 

3  '  I  ha  ben  about  this  fish-toun  this  years  tua 

or  three, 
Ha  ye  ony  quarters,  deam,  that  ye  coud  gie 
me?' 

4  *  Awa,  ye  pear  carl,  ye  dinne  kean  my  name ; 
Ye  sudd  ha  caed  me  mistress  fan  ye  called  me 

bat  deara.' 

5  He  tuke  his  hat  in  his  hand  an  gied  her  juks 

three : 
'  An  ye  want  manners,  misstres,  quarters  ye  '11 
gie  me.' 

6  '  Awa,  ye  pear  carle,  in  ayont  the  fire, 

An   sing  to   our  Lord   Gray's  men  to  their 
hearts'  disire.' 


7  Some  lowked  to  his  goudie  lowks,  some  to  his 

milk-whit  skine, 
Some  to  his  ruffled  shirt,  the  gued  read  gold 
hang  in. 

8  Out  spak  our  madin,  an  she  was  ay  shay, 
Fatt  will  the  jolly  beager  gett  afore  he  gaa  to 

lay? 

9  Out  spak  our  goudwife,  an  she  was  not  sae 

shay. 
He  'se  gett  a  dish  of  lang  kell,  besids  a  puss 
pay. 

10  Out  spak  the  jolly  beager.  That  dish  I  dou  de- 

nay; 
I  canne  sup  yer  lang  kell  nor  yet  yer  puss  pay. 

11  Bat  ye  gett  to  my  supper  a  capon  of  the  best, 
Tuo  or  three  bottels  of  yer  wine,  an  bear,  an 

we  sail  ha  a  merry  feast. 

12  '  Ha  ye  ony  siler,  carll,  to  bint  the  bear  an 


Winer 


V  ' 


*  O  never  a  peney,  misstress,  had  I  lang  sine.' 

13  The  beager  wadne  lay  in  the  bam,  nor  yett  in 
the  bayr. 
Bat  in  ahind  the  haa-dor,  or  att  the  kitchen-fire. 


*  Other  copies,  which  are  rather  numerous,  much  less : 
Norrenberg,  Des  diilkener  Fiedlers  Liederbuch,  p.  10,  No  13 ; 
Peter  I,  182  ;  Uhland,  No  285,  p.  737  ;  Haupt  u.  Schmaler, 
I,  102,  No  67 ;  etc.    See  Hoffmann's  notes,  pp.  46,  47 ;  Ba- 


rack,  Zimmerische  Chronik,  2d  ed.,  n,  HI,  and  Liebrecht's 
note,  Germania,  XIV,  38 ;  Schade,  Weimarisches  Jabrbach, 
III,  259  ff.,  465  ff. 


279.    THE  JOLLY  BEGGAR 


111 


14  The  beager's  bed  was  well  [made]  of  gued 
clean  stray  an  hay, 


15  The  madin  she  rose  up  to  bar  the  dor, 

An  ther  she  spayed  a  naked  man,  was  linen 
throu  the  flour. 

16  He  tuke  her  in  his  arms  an  to  his  bed  he 

ran; 

*  Hollie  we  me,  sir,'  she  says,  *  or  ye  '11  waken 

our  pear  man.' 

17  The  begger  was  a  cuning  carle,  an   never  a 

word  he  spake 
Till  he  got  his  turn  dean,  an  sayn  began  to 
crak. 

18  '  Is  ther  ony  dogs  about  this  toun  ?  madin,  tell 

me  nou : ' 

*  Fatt  wad  ye  dee  we  them,  my  bony  an  my 

dou?' 

19  '  They  wad  ravie  a'  my  meall-poks  an  die  me 

mukell  wrang : ' 

*  O  doll  for  the  deaing  o  it !  are  ye  the  pear 


20  *  I  thought  ye  had  ben  some  gentelman,  just 
leak  the  leard  of  Brody ! 


I  am  sorry  for  the  doing  o  itt !   are  ye  the 
pore  boddie  ? ' 

21  She   tuke  the  meall-poks  by  the  strings  an 

thrue  them  our  the  waa : 
'  Doll  gaa  we  meall-poks,  madinhead  an  a' ! ' 

22  She  tuke  him  to  her  press,  gave  him  a  glass  of 

wine ; 
He  tuke  her  in  his  arms,  says,  Honey,  ye  'ss  be 
mine. 

23  He  tuke  a  horn  fra  his  side  an  he  blue  loud 

an  shill, 
An  f  our-an-tuenty  belted  knights  came  att  the 
beager's  will. 

24  He  tuke  out  a  pean-kniff,  lute  a'  his  dudes  f aa, 
An  he  was   the   braest  gentelman   that   was 

among  them  a'. 

25  He  patt  his  hand  in  his  poket  an  gaa  her  ginnes 

three. 
An  f  our-an-tuenty  hunder  mark,  to   pay  the 
nires  feea. 

26  *  Gin  ye  had  ben  a  gued  woman,  as  I  thought 

ye  had  ben, 
I  wad  haa  made  ye  lady  of  castels  eaght  or 
nine.' 


a.  Herd,  The  Ancient  and  Modem  Scots  Songs,  1769,  p. 
46.  b.  Carious  Tracts,  Scotland,  British  Maseum,  1078,  m. 
24,  No  30. 

1  There  was  a  jolly  beggar,  and  a  begging  he 

was  bound. 
And  he  took  up  his  quarters  into  a  landart 
town. 
^  ralala,ete. 

2  He  wad  neither  ly  in  bam,  nor  yet  wad  he  in 

byre, 
But  in  ahint  the  ha-door,  or  else  afore  the  fire. 

3  The  beggar's  bed  was  made  at  een  wi  good 

clean  straw  and  hay, 
And  in  ahint  the  ha-door,  and  there  the  beggar 
lay. 


4  Up  raise  the  goodman's  dochter,  and  for  to 

bar  the  door. 
And  there  she  saw  the  beggar  standin  i  the 
floor. 

5  He  took  the  lassie  in  his  arms  and  to  the  bed 

he  ran, 

*  O  hooly,  hooly  wi  me,  sir  !  ye  '11  waken  our 

goodman.' 

6  The  beggar  was  a  cunnin  loon,  and  neer  a  word 

he  spake 
Until  he  got  his  turn  done,  syne  he  began  to 
crack. 

7  '  Is  there  ony  dogs  into  this  town  ?  maiden,  tell 

me  true.' 

*  And  what  wad  ye  do  wi  them,  my  hinny  and 

my  dow  ?  * 


112 


279.    THE  JOLLY  BEGGAR 


8  '  They  '11  rive  a'  my  mealpocks,  and  do  me 
meikle  wrang.' 
*0  dool  for  the  doing  o't!    are  ye   the  poor 


v 


9  Then  she  took  up  the  mealpocks  and  flang 
them  oer  the  wa  : 
*  The  d — 1  gae  wi  the  mealpocks,  my  maiden- 
head and  a' ! 

10  *  I  took  ye  for  some   gentleman,  at  least  the 

Laird  of  Brodie ; 
O  dool  for  the  doing  o't!   are   ye  the  poor 
hodie  ? ' 

11  He  took  the  lassie  in  his  arms  and  gae  her 

kisses  three. 


And  four-and-twenty  hunder  merk  to  pay  the 
nurice-fee. 

12  He  took  a  horn  frae  his  side  and  blew  baith 

loud  and  shrill, 
And  four-and-twenty  belted   knights  came 
skipping  oer  the  hill. 

13  And  he  took  out  his  little  knife,  loot  a'  his 

duddies  fa, 
And  he  was  the  brawest  gentleman  that  was 
amang  them  a'. 

14  The  beggar  was  a  cliver  loon  and  he  lap  shoul- 

der height : 
'  0  ay  for   sicken   quarters   as  I  gat  yester- 
night ! ' 


> 


A.  6'.  disere. 

9^.  puss  might  he  russ  here,  but  is  unques- 
tionable in  the  next  stanza. 

24z\  blaest/or  braest.  26*^.  ninge  (nigne  may 
be  what  was  intended). 

B.  b.  A  slip  with  no  imprint.    Dated  in  the  Mu- 

seum catalogue  1800  ? 

1  There  was  a  jolly  beggar,  and  a  begging  he  bad 

been, 

With  his  fal  de  diddle  de  dal  dal 
And  he  took  up  his  quarters  in  a  house  in  Aber- 
deen. 

With  his  toran  oran  ad  de  odi 

2  This  beggar  would  not  lye  in  barn  nor  yet  would 

he  in  byre, 
But  be  would  lye  into  the  ha,  or  beyond  the  kitchen- 
fire. 

3  The  beggar's  bed  it  was  well  made,  with  clean 

straw  and  hay, 
And  beyond  the  kitchen-fire,  there  the  jolly  beggar 
lay. 

4  The  lassie  then  she  did  get  up  to  bar  the  kitchen- 

door, 
An  there  she  met  the  jolly  beggar,  standing  naked 
on  the  floor. 

6  He  gript  the  lassie  by  the  middle  jimp,  laid  her 
against  the  wa, 
•  O  kind  sir,'  she  said,  *be  civil,  for  ye  will  wake 
my  dadda.' 


6  He  never  minded  what  she  said,  but  carried  on  his 

stroke, 
Till  he  got  his  job  done,  then  he  began  to  joke. 

7  '  Have  you  got  any  dogs  about  the  house,  or  any 

cats  ava? 
For  I  'm  feared  she  '11  cut  my  mealpocks  before  I 
gang  awa.' 

8  The  lassie  took   up  the  mealpocks,  threw  them 

against  the  wa, 
*  O  deil  tak  your  mealpocks!  my  maidenhead's 
awa.' 

9  The  lassie  she  got  up  again  the  hour  before  't  was 

day. 
For  to  gie  the  beggar  hansel  before  he  went 
away. 

10  She  went  into  the  cellar,  to  draw  a  pot  of  ale, 
The  beggar  followed  after,  and  did  the  job  again. 

11  He  laid  her  on  the  ringle-tree,  and  gave  her  kisses 

three, 
And  he  gave  her  twenty  guineas,  to  pay  the  nurse's 
fee. 

12  '  Had  you  been  an  honest  lass,  as  I  took  you  to  be, 
You  might  have  rode  in  your  carriage  and  gone 

along  with  me.' 

13  The  beggar  he  took  a  horn  and  blew  it  wondrous 

shrill  ; 
There  was  four-and-twenty  belted  knights  came 
riding  oer  the  hill. 


279.     THE  JOLLY  BEGGAR 


113 


14  *  Now  if  you  are  afraid  you  should  miscall  your 
child, 
Tou  may  call  him  for  the  daddy  o't,  the  great 
Duke  of  Argyle.' 


a.  4  Up  rose  the  farmer's  daughter,  for  to  bar 
the  door. 
There  she  beheld  a  naked  man,  was  stand- 
ing on  the  floor. 


1^  jelly  :  hut  3^  4^,  joUy. 

3^  hay  and  straw. 

9^.  hours. 

13^.  kinpa/or  knights. 

There  are  many  other  misprints ;  some,  per^ 

haps,   which  are  not  corrected,  as  she  '11 

cut,  73. 
The  copy  in  Motherwell's  MS,  p.  124,  ends : 

He  louted  oure  the  saddle  to  her  and  gave  her 

kisses  three, 
And   he   gave   her  fifty  guineas,  to  pay  the 

nourice-fee. 

*  Oh  had  you  been  an  honest  maid,  as  I  thocht 

ye  wud  hae  been, 
I  would  have  made  you  lady  of  a'  the  land, 

and  then  the  Scotish  queen.' 

B.  O.  From  the  recitation  of  Miss  Jane  Webster, 
Crossmichael,  August  8,  1893  ;  learned  by 
her  many  years  ago  from  her  mother,  Janet 
Spark. 


1  There  was  a  jolly  beggar,  as  mony  a  ane 
has  been. 
An  he  's  taen  up  his  lodging  in  a  house  near 
Aberdeen. 
Wi  his  yi  yi  yanti  O,  his  eerie  eerie  an 
Wi  his  fine  tan  taraira,  the  jolly  beggar- 
man 


7  '  Hae  ye  ony  cats  or  dogs,  or  hae  ye  eer  a 
grew? 
I  'm  feared  they  rive  my  meal-pokes,  when 
I  am  kissing  you.' 

9  She  's  taen  up  his  meal-pokes  an  thrown 
them  owre  the  wa  : 
*  O  the  deil  gang  wi  your  meal-pokes !  for 
my  maidenhead  's  awa.' 


*  It 's  fare  ye  weel,  gudewif e,  an  it 's  fare 

ye  weel,  gudeman, 
Ye  hae  a  gude  fat  doughter,  an  I  rattled  on 

her  pan. 

b.  12  '  If  she  had  been  an  honest  lass,  as  I  took 
her  to  be, 
She  micht  hae  ridden  in  her  coach-an-fonr 
this  day  along  wi  me.* 

a.  12  Then  he  took  oot  a  whistle,  an  he 's  blawn 
baith  loud  and  shrill. 
There  was  four-an-twenty  foresters  cam  at 
their  master's  will. 

13  Then  he  took  oot  a  wee  pen-knife,  an  let 
his  duddies  fa, 
And  he  was   the  brawest  gentleman  that 
was  amang  them  a'. 


2  He  wadna  lie  in  bam,  nor  he  wadna  lie  in      The  English  broadside,  Pepys  Ballads,  III,  73,  No 


byre. 
But  he  wad  lie  at  the  ha-door  or  the  back 
o  the  kitchen-fire. 

B.  d.  From  the  recitation  of  the  same,  on  the  same 
occasion  ;  learned  in  youth  at  Airds  of  Kells, 
from  the  singing  of  Thomas  Duffy,  joiner, 
Parton. 

Refrain : 

Wi  his  long   staff,  and  ragged  coat,  and 
breeches  to  his  knee. 


II. 


THE  POLLITICK  BEGGER-MAN. 


Who  got  the  love  of  a  pretty  maid 
And  on  her  cittern  sweetly  plaid  ; 
At  last  she  slung  her  milk-pail  over  the  wall. 
And  bid  the  De'l  take  milk-pail,  maidenhead  and  all. 
Tune  is,  There  was  a  jovial  begger.* 

Printed  for  F.   Coles,   T.   Vere,  J.  Wright,  and  J. 
Clarke. 


.     ,  ,              .^1      1      n     ^  1                        ,  *  ^or  t^iis  older  piece,  see  Ebsworth,  Bagford  Ballads,  I, 

And  he  was  the  bauldest  beggar-man  that  2I6.    There  is  no  adventure;  the  subject  is  the  beggar's 

eer  my  eyes  did  see.  way  of  life. 

VOL.    V.  15 


114 


279.    THE  JOLLY  BEGGAR 


1  There  was  a  jovial  begger-man, 

a  begging  he  was  bound, 
And  he  did  seek  his  living 
in  country  and  in  town. 
With  a  long  staff  and  a  patcht  coat, 

he  prancd  along  the  pad, 
And  by  report  of  many  a  one 
he  was  a  proper  lad. 
His -cheeks  were  like  the  crimson  rose, 

his  forehead  smooth  and  high, 
And  he  was  the  bravest  begger-man 
that^ever  I  saw  with  eye. 

2  He  came  unto  a  farmer's  gate 

and  for  an  alms  did  crave  ; 
The  maid  did  like  the  begger-man 

and  good  relief  she  gave. 
She  took  him  by  the  lilly  hand 

and  set  him  to  the  fire, 
Which  was  as  well  as  tongue  could  tell 

Or  heart  of  man  desire. 

3  A  curious  mess  of  firmaty 

for  him  she  did  provide, 
With  a  lovely  cup  of  nut-brown 
and  sugar  sops  beside. 


7  When  he  perceivd  the  maiden's  mind, 
and  that  her  heart  was  his. 
He  did  embrace  her  in  his  arms 
And  sweetly  did  her  kiss. 


*  Sweet-heart,  give  me  some  lodging, 

that  I  all  night  may  stay, 
Or  else  give  me  my  answer, 

that  I  may  go  away.' 
The  maid  went  to  the  hay-mow 

and  fetcht  a  bottle  of  hay, 
And  laid  it  behind  the  parlor-door, 

On  which  the  begger-man  lay. 

*  Resolve  me,'  said  the  maiden, 

*  if  that  you  will  or  can. 
For  I  do  verily  believe 

thou  art  a  gentleman.* 

*  In  truth  then,'  said  the  begger, 

*  my  parents  they  are  poor, 
And  I  do  seek  my  living 

each^day  from  door  to  door.* 

*  *T  is  pity,*  said  this  maiden  fair, 

*  that  such  a  lively  lad 
Should  be  a  begger's  only  heir, 

a  fortune  poor  and  bad. 
I  wish  that  my  condition 

were  of  the  same  degree. 
Then  hand  in  hand  I  'de  quickly  wend 

throughout  the  world  with  thee.' 


8  In  lovely  sport  and  merriment 
the  night  away  they  spent 
In  Venus  game,  for  their  delight 
and  both  their  hearts  content : 


9  Betimes  in  the  morning  then, 

as  soon  as  it  was  day, 
He  left  the  damosel  fast  asleep 

and  nimbly  budgd  away. 
When  he  from  her  an  hour  was  gone 

the  damosel  she  did  wake. 
And  seeing  the  begger-man  not  there 

her  heart  began  to  ake. 

10  Then  did  she  sigh  and  wring  her  hands, 

the  tears  did  trickling  pour. 
For  loosing  her  virginity 

and  virgins  maiden  flower. 
When  twenty  weeks  were  come  and  gone 

her  heart  was  something  sad. 
Because  she  found  herself  with  barn, 

and  does  not  know  the  dad. 

11  *  There  is,  I  see,  no  remedy 

for  what  is  past  and  gone. 
And  many  a  one  that  laughs  at  me 

may  do  as  I  have  done.' 
Then  did  she  take  her  milk-pail, 

and  flung  it  over  the  wall  : 
*  O  the  Devil  go  with  my  milk-pail, 

my  maidenhead  and  all ! ' 

12  You  maidens  fair,  where  ere  you  are. 

Keep  up  your  store  and  goods, 
For  when  that  some  have  got  their  wills 

They  '1  leave  you  in  the  suds. 
Let  no  man  tempt  you  nor  entice, 

be  not  too  fond  and  coy. 
But  soon  agree  to  loyalty, 

Your  freedom  to  enjoy. 

4*.  go  that  way. 


279.    THE  JOLLY  BEGGAR 


115 


APPENDIX 
THE  GABERLUNYIE-MAN 


Printed  in  the  first  volume  of  Ramsay's  Tea- 
Table  Miscellany,  1724,  from  which  it  was  repeated 
in  Thomson's  Orpheus  Caledonius,  1725,  fol.  43, 
and  Old  Ballads,  III,  259,  the  same  year ;  in  the 
Dublin  reprint  of  the  Miscellany,  1729,  I,  96, 
the  "  fifth  edition,"  London,  1730,  and  the  ninth 
edition,  London,  1733,  I.  84.  The  first  edition, 
1724,  being  of  extreme  rarity,  if  anywhere  now  to 
be  found,  lie  piece  is  given  here  from  Old  Ballads, 
which  agrees  with  Orpheus  Caledonius  except  as  to 
the  spelling  of  a  single  word. 

The  Gaberlunyie-Man  is  one  of  the  pieces  which 
were  subjected  to  revision  in  the  Miscellany  ;  "  such 
old  verses  as  have  been  done  time  out  of  mind, 
and  only  wanted  to  be  cleared  from  the  dross  of 
blundering  transcribers  and  printers,  such  as  '  The 
Gaberlunzie-man,'  '  Muirland  Willy,' "  etc.  (Ram- 
say's preface.) 

In  recited  copies,  as  the  "  Old  Lady's  Collection," 
No  13  (Skene  MS.,  p.  65),  and  Motherwell's  MS., 
p.  31,  the  girl  is  made  to  come  back  again  to  see 
her  mother  (or  the  gaberlunyie-man  brings  her)  *  wi  a 
bairn  in  her  arms  and  ane  in  her  wame ; '  but  for 
all  that  a  fine  lady,  '  wi  men-  and  maid-servants  at 
her  command.' 

Translated  by  Herder,  II,  264  ;  Bodmer,  I,  68 ; 
Fiedler,  p.  23 ;  Loeve-Veimars,  p.  356. 

1  The  pauky  auld  carle  came  oer  the  lee, 
Wi  many  good  eens  and  days  to  me, 
Saying,  Groodwife,  for  your  courtesie, 

Will  ye  lodge  a  silly  poor  man  ? 
The  night  was  cauld,  the  carle  was  wat, 
And  down  ayont  the  ingle  he  sat ; 
My  daughter's  shoulders  he  gan  to  clap. 

And  cadgily  ranted  and  sang. 

2  '  O  wow  ! '  quo  he,  *  were  I  as  free 
As  first  when  I  saw  this  country, 
How  blyth  and  merry  wad  I  be  I 

And  I  wad  never  think  lang.* 
He  grew  canty,  and  she  grew  fain, 
But  little  did  her  auld  minny  ken 
What  thir  slee  twa  togither  were  sayn, 

When  wooing  they  were  sa[e]  thrang. 

3  *  And  O  ! '  quo  he,  '  ann  ye  were  as  black, 
As  eer  the  crown  of  your  dady's  hat, 

'T  is  I  wad  lay  thee  by  my  back, 
And  awa  wi  me  thou  shoud  gang.' 


*  And  O  ! '  quoth  she,  *  ann  I  were  as  white 
As  eer  the  snaw  lay  on  the  dike, 

I  'd  dead  me  braw,  and  lady-like. 
And  awa  with  thee  I  'd  gang.' 

4  Between  the  twa  was  made  a  plot ; 
They  raise  a  wee  before  the  cock, 
And  wyliely  they  shot  the  lock. 

And  fast  to  the  bent  are  they  gane. 
Up  the  morn  the  auld  wife  raise, 
And  at  her  leasure  pat  on  her  claiths  ; 
Syne  to  the  servants  bed  she  gaes, 

To  speer  for  the  silly  poor  man. 

5  She  gaed  to  the  bed  where  the  beggar  lay, 
The  strae  was  cauld,  he  was  away ; 

She  clapt  her  hands,  cry'd,  Waladay  I 
For  some  of  our  gear  will  be  gane. 

Some  ran  to  coffers,  and  some  to  kists, 

But  nought  was  stown  that  coud  be  mist ; 

She  danc'd  her  lane,  cry'd,  Praise  be  blest, 
I  have  lodg'd  a  leal  poor  man  ! 

6  *  Since  nathing  's  awa,  as  we  can  learn. 
The  kirn 's  to  kirn  and  milk  to  earn  ; 

Gae  butt  the  house,  lass,  and  waken  my  bairn, 
And  bid  her  come  quickly  ben.' 

The  servant  gade  where  the  daughter  lay, 

The  sheets  was  cauld,  she  was  away  ; 

And  fast  to  her  goodwife  can  say. 
She 's  aff  with  the  gaberlunyie-man. 

7  '  O  fy,  gar  ride,  and  fy,  gar  rin, 
And  hast  ye  find  these  traitors  again  ; 
For  she  's  be  burnt,  and  he  's  be  slain. 

The  wearifu  gaberlunyie-man.' 
Some  rade  upo  horse,  some  ran  a-fit. 
The  wife  was  wood  and  out  o  'er  wit ; 
She  coud  na  gang,  nor  yet  coud  she  sit, 

But  ay  she  cursd  and  she  band. 

8  Mean  time  far  hind  outoer  the  lee, 

Fou  snug  in  a  glen,  where  nane  coud  see, 
The  twa,  with  kindly  sport  and  glee. 

Cut  frae  a  new  cheese  a  whang. 
The  priving  was  good,  it  pleasd  them  baith, 
To  loe  her  for  ay  be  gae  her  his  aith  ; 
Quo  she.  To  leave  thee,  I  will  be  laith, 

My  winsome  gaberlunyie-man. 

9  *  O  kend  my  minny  I  were  wi  you, 
Dlf ardly  wad  she  crook  her  mou ; 
Sic  a  poor  man  she  'd  never  trow, 

After  the  gaberlunyie-man.' 

*  My  dear,'  quo  he,  '  ye  'r  yet  oer  young. 
And  ha  na  learnd  the  beggar's  tongue, 
To  follow  me  frae  town  to  town, 

And  carry  the  gaberlunyie  on. 


116 


280.    THE  BEGGAR-LADDIE 


10  *  Wi  kauk  and  keel,  I'll  win  your  bread, 
And  spindles  and  whorles  for  them  wha  need, 
Whilk  is  a  gentil  trade  indeed, 
To  carry  the  gaberlunyie,  O. 
I  '11  bow  my  leg,  and  crook  my  knee, 


And  draw  a  black  clout  oer  my  eye  ; 
A  criple  or  blind  they  will  ca  me, 
While  we  shall  be  merry  and  sing.' 

8».  my  dady's,  Dublin,  1729,  London,  1730,  1733. 


i*"  ^ 


^"^    .^  ^ 


280 


\  ^^  i^^r  r  f?^'  ^  '^    ^  THE  BEGGAR-LADDIE 

^    j^^^      A.  «  The  Shipherd  Boy,'    "  Old  Lady's  Collection,"      D.  '  The  Gaberlunzie  Laddie,  or,  The  Beggar's  Bride,' 
r«v  No  35.  Christie,  Traditional  Ballad  Airs,  I,  100. 


B.  '  The  Beggar's  Dawtie,'  Murison  MS.,  p.  85. 

C.  •  The  Beggar-Laddie,'  Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  249. 


E.  '  The  Shepherd's  Bonny  Lassy,'  Kinloch  MSS,  V, 
249,11,  17. 


This  is  a  sort  of  '  Gaberlunyie-Man '  with 
a  romantic  conclusion,  resembling  that  of 
'  Lizie  Lindsay.'  A  pretended  beggar,  who 
is  for  the  time  acting  as  shepherd's  swain, 
induces  a  young  lady,  or  young  woman  of 
good  standing,  to  follow  him  as  his  beggar- 
lassie.  They  come  to  a  hall  (his  father's.  A, 
D,  B,  brother's,  C),  he  knocks  loudly,  four 
and  twenty  gentlemen  welcome  him  in,  and 


as  many  ladies  the  lassie,  and  she  is  thence- 
forth a  knight's  or  squire's  lady. 

There  is  corruption  in  all  the  copies,*  and 
the  rhyme  is  frequently  lost.  A  2  (B  3,  C  3, 
D  7,  B  5)  is  taken  almost  bodily  from  '  The 
Gaberlunyie-Man,'  10.  D  is  not  the  better 
for  being  a  mixture  of  three  copies.  D  4  an- 
ticipates the  conclusion,  and  it  is  inconceivable 
that  any  meddler  should  not  have  seen  this. 
D  14  is  caught  from  '  The  Jolly  Beggar.' 


U" 


The  "  Old  Lady's  Collection,"  No  35 ;  north  of  Scotland. 

1  Shipeed-boy,  what  is  yer  trade  ? 
Or  what  way  do  ye  wine  yer  bread  ? 
Or  what  way  do  ye  wine  yer  bread, 

Fan  the  kipeng  nout  gies  over  ? 

2  '  Spindels  an  f  oris  it  is  my  trade, 
An  bits  o  sticks  to  them  who  need, 
Whilk  is  a  gentell  trade  indeed ; 

Bony  lassie,  cane  ye  lea  me  ?  * 

•  B  4*,  As  Jessie  loved  the  cups  o  gold, 
C  5^,  As  Judas  loved  a  piece  of  gold, 
D  3^,  As  Jesse  lord  the  fields  of  gold ; 


3  '  I  lea  you  as  I  supos 
Rachell  loved  Jacob  of  old, 

As  Jason  loied  his  flice  of  gould, 
Sae  dearly  do  I  lea  ye. 

4  '  Ye  cast  off  yer  clouty  coat, 

An  ye  pitt  one  my  scarlett  cloke, 
An  I  will  follou  you  just  att  the  back, 
Becass  ye  are  a  bonny  laddie.' 

5  He  cust  ofE  his  cloutty  coat, 
An  he  patt  on  her  scarlet  cloke, 

the  original  reading  being  as  in 

A  3^,  As  Jason  loied  his  flice  of  gould. 


280.     THE  BEGGAR-LADDIE 


117 


An  she  folloued  him  just  att  the  back, 
Becaus  he  was  a  bonny  laddie. 

They  gaed  on,  an  forder  on. 
Till  they  came  to  yon  borrous-toun ; 
She  bought  a  loaf  an  they  both  satt  doun, 
Bat  she  ate  no  we  her  laddie. 

They  gaed  on,  an  forder  one. 
Till  they  came  to  the  nest  borrous-toun ; 
I  wat  the  lassie  louked  doun, 
For  the  following  of  her  laddie. 


8  '  O  if  I  wer  on  the  head  of  yon  hill, 
^^^^^  f-T  ^  Ther  I  wad  greet  my  fill, 


'nn' 


1 


For  the  follouing  of  my  laddie.' 

'  O  had  yer  toung,  my  dearest  dear, 

I  ill  ha  ye  back  as  I  brought  ye  hear, 

For  I  canna  bear  yer  morning.' 


10  '  0  had  yer  toung,  my  dearest  dear, 

I  will  gae  throu  the  warld  baith  far  an  near, 
Becaus  ye  'r  a  bonny  ladie.' 


11  They  gad  on,  an  forder  on. 

Till  they  came  to  his  father's  haa. 
An  he  knoked  ther  fue  loudly. 

12  *  O  had  yer  hand,  my  dear[est]  dear. 
An  dou  not  knoke  sae  loudly, 

\ For  fear  they  sud  be  angry.' 

13  Four-an-tuenty  gentelmen 
They  conved  the  beager  ben. 
An  as  mony  gay  ladgs 

Conved  the  beager's  lassie. 

r 

14  His  brother  lead  her  throu  the  haa : 
'  I  wis,  brother,  we  had  beagged  a', 

I  For  sick  a  bonny  lassie.' 

15  That  same  night  she  was  bedded, 

An  the  nist  morning  she  was  wedded ; 
She  came  to  gued  by  grait  misgiding, 
By  the  follouing  of  her  laddie. 


B  % 

Murison  MS.,  p.  85 ;  from  Aberdeenshire. 
1  'T  WAS  on  a  day  in  the  month  o  June 

When  Phoebus  shines  sae  clearly. 


She  says,  My  dear,  what  is  your  trade 
When  thiggin  ye  give  over  ? 


s 


3j  *  Spinls  and  forls  is  my  trade, 
Wi  bits  o  sticks  I  win  my  bread, 
An  O  it  is  a  winnin  trade  ; 

Bonnie  lassie,  can  ye  loo  me  ? ' 
An  O  it  is,  etc. 

/  4;*  0  I  can  love  ye  manyfold. 
As  Jacob  loved  Rachel  of  old, 
And  as  Jessie  loved  the  cups  o  gold ; 
My  dear,  can  ye  believe  me  ? ' 
As  Jessie,  etc. 


5  *  It 's  ye  '11  tak  aflP  the  robes  o  red, 
An  ye  '11  pit  on  the  beggin-weed. 

An  ye  '11  gang  wi  me  an  ye  '11  beg  your  bread, 
An  ye  '11  be  the  beggar's  dawtie.' 

6  When  they  cam  to  yon  borough-toon. 
They  bocht  a  loaf  an  they  baith  sat  doon. 
They  bocht  a  loaf  an  they  baith  sat  doon. 

An  the  lassie  ate  wi  her  laddie. 

7  When  they  cam  to  yon  grassy  hill, 
Where  spotted  flocks  do  feed  their  fill, 
'  I  '11  sit  me  doon  an  I  '11  greet  a  while, 

For  the  folio  win  o  my  laddie.' 

8  *  It 's  ye  '11  tak  afP  yer  beggin-weed, 
An  ye  '11  pit  on  the  goons  o  red. 

An  ye  '11  gang  ye  back  the  road  ye  cam. 
For  I  canna  bide  yer  greetin.' 

9  *  Betide  me  weel,  betide  me  woe, 
It 's  wi  the  beggar  an  I  '11  go. 

An  I  'U  follow  him  through  frost  an  snow. 
An  I  '11  be*  the  beggar's  dawtie.' 


118 


380.    THE  BEGGAR-LADDIE 


10  When  they  cam  to  yonder  ha, 
He  knockit  loud  an  sair  did  ca ; 

She  says,  My  dear,  we  '11  be  foun  in  fa 
For  knockin  here  sae  loudly. 

11  Four-an-twenty  gentlemen 

Cam  a'  to  welcome  the  beggar  in, 
An  as  monie  fair  ladies  gay 
To  welcome 's  bonnie  lassie. 


12  When  at  he  gied  through  the  ha, 
They  a'  did  laugh,  they  were  like  to  fa, 
Sayin,  Brither,  I  wish  we  had  beggit  a', 

For  sic  a  bonnie  lassie. 

13  '  The  streen  ye  was  the  beggar's  bride. 
An  noo  this  nicht  ye  '11  lie  by  my  side. 
Come  weel,  come  woe,  whateer  betide, 

An  ye  '11  be  aye  my  dawtie.' 


y^' 


Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  249 ;  from  the  recitation  of  Miss 
Ann  Wilson,  of  the  Tontine  Inn,  Paisley,  who  learned  it 
from  the  cook  in  her  father's  house. 

1  Down  in  yonder  garden  gay, 
Where  many  a  ladie  does  repair. 
Where  many  a  ladie  does  repair, 

Puing  of  flowers  sae  bonnie. 

2  '  0  do  you  see  yon  shepherd's  son, 
Feeding  his  flocks  in  yonder  loan, 
Feeding  his  flocks  in  yonder  loan  ? 

Vow  but  he  feeds  them  bonnie  ! ' 

,    3*0  laddie,  laddie,  what  is  your  trade  ? 
I         Or  by  what  means  do  you  win  your  bread  ? 
'  Or  by  what  means  do  you  win  your  bread  ? 

O  laddie,  tell  unto  me.' 

4  '  By  making  spindles  is  my  trade. 
Or  whorles  in  the  time  o  need, 

And  by  which  ways  I  do  win  my  bread  : 
O  lady,  do  you  love  me  ? ' 

5  '  As  Judas  loved  a  piece  of  gold, 
[          As  Jacob  loved  Rachel  of  old, 

As  Jacob  loved  Rachel  of  old, 
O  laddie,  I  do  love  thee.' 

6  '  You  must  put  off  your  robes  of  silk. 
You  must  put  on  my  cloutit  claes, 
And  follow  me  hard  at  my  back, 

And  ye  '11  be  my  beggar-lassie.' 

7  She 's  put  aff  her  robes  of  silk. 
And  she  's  put  on  his  cloutit  claes, 


And  she 's  followed  him  hard  at  his  back. 
And  she  's  been  his  beggar-lassie. 

8  O  when  they  cam  to  [the]  borrowstoun. 
Vow  but  the  lassie  lookit  doun  ! 

Vow  but  the  lassie  lookit  doun ! 
Following  her  beggar-laddie. 

9  0  when  they  cam  to  Stirling  toun, 

He  coft  a  loaf  and  they  baith  sat  doun. 
He  coft  a  loaf  and  they  baith  sat  doun, 
And  she  's  eaten  wi  her  beggar-laddie. 

10  '  0  do  you  see  yon  hie,  hie  hill, 

Where  the  corn  grows  baith  rank  and  tall  ? 
If  I  was  there,  I  would  greet  my  fill, 
Where  naebody  wuld  see  me.' 

11  When  they  came  to  his  brother's  hall. 
Vow  but  he  chappit  loud  and  schill ! 

'  Don't  chap  sae  loud,'  the  lassie  said, 
'  For  we  may  be  fund  f aut  wi.' 

12  Four-and-twenty  gentlemen, 
And  twice  as  many  gay  ladies. 
And  twice  as  many  gay  ladies, 

Came  to  welcome  in  the  lassie. 

13  His  brother  led  her  thro  the  hall. 
With  laughter  he  was  like  to  fall ; 
He  said,  I  think  we  should  beg  it  all, 

For  she  is  a  bonnie  lassie. 

14  '  You  must  put  aff  your  cloutit  claes. 
You  must  put  on  your  robes  of  silk, 
You  must  put  on  your  robes  of  silk, 

For  ye  are  a  young  knicht's  ladye.* 


280.    THE  BEGGAB-LADDIB 


119 


Christie's  Traditional  Ballad  Airs,  I,  100;  from  three 
copies,  two  in  Ban&hire,  and  one  in  Aberdeenshire. 

1  'T  WAS  in  the  pleasant  month  of  June, 
When  woods  and  valleys  a'  grow  green, 
And  valiant  ladies  walk  alane, 

While  Phoebus  shines  soe  clearly. 
f^  And  valiant  ladies,  etc. 

2  Out-ower  yon  den  I  spied  a  swain, 
Wi  a  shepherd's  club  into  his  han  ; 

He  was  driving  ewes  out-ower  yon  tnowes, 
And  said,  Lassie,  I  could  love  you. 
He  was  driving  ewes,  etc. 

3  *  Oh,  I  could  love  you  manifold, 
As  Jacob  lovd  Rachel  of  old, 
As  Jesse  lovd  the  fields  of  gold, 

So  dearly  cpuld  I  love  you. 

4  '  In  ha's  and  chambers  ye  'se  be  laid, 
In  silks  and  cambrics  ye  'se  be  clade, 
An  wi  the  finest  ye  'se  be  fed. 

My  dear,  gin  ye  would  believe  me.* 

5  '  Your  ha's  and  chambers  ye'll   soon  sweep 

clean, 
Wi  your  flattering  tongue  now  let  me  alane ; 
You  are  designd  to  do  me  wrang, 
Awa,  young  man,  and  leave  me. 

6  *  But  tell  me  now  what  is  your  trade. 
When  you  've  given  over  sheep  and  club  ? ' 


7  '  By  making  besoms  I  win  my  bread, 
And  spindles  and  whorles  in  time  o  need ; 
Is  n't  that  a  gentle  trade  indeed  ?* 
Bonnie  lassie,  can  you  loe  me  ? 


8  *  Will  ye  cast  aff  your  mantle  black 
And  put  on  you  a  clouty  cloak, 
And  follow  me  close  at  the  back. 

The  gaberlunyie-laddie  ? ' 

9  Then  she  coost  afif  her  mantle  black, 
And  she  put  on  a  clouty  cloak. 

And  she  foUowd  him  close  at  the  back. 
Her  gaberlunyie-laddie. 

10  As  they  gaed  through  yon  borough-town, 
For  shame  the  lassie  lookit  down  ; 

But  they  bought  a  loaf  and  they  both  sat  down. 
And  the  lassie  ate  wi  her  laddie. 

11  When  they  came  to  his  father's  gate, 
Sae  loudly  as  he  rappd  thereat ; 

*  My  dear,'  said  she,  '  ye  '11  be  found  in  f aut 

For  rapping  there  sae  loudly.' 

12  Then  four-and-twenty  gentlemen 
Convoyd  the  gentle  beggar  ben. 
And  aye  as  mony  gay  ladies 

Convoyd  the  bonny  lassie. 

13  When  they  were  come  into  the  ha, 
Wi  laughter  a'  were  like  to  fa  : 

*  I  wish,  dear  brother,  we  had  begged  a'. 

For  sic  a  bonnie  lassie.' 

14  Then  as  he  stood  amang  them  a'. 
He  let  his  meal-pocks  a'  down  fa. 
And  in  red  gowd  he  shone  oer  them  a', 

And  she  was  a  young  knight's  lady. 

15  Yestreen  she  was  the  begger's  bride, 
As  his  wife  she  now  stood  by  his  side. 
And  for  a'  the  lassie  's  ill  misguide. 

She  's  now  the  young  knight's  lady. 


E 


Kinloch  MSS,  V,  249.    As  recited  by  John  Laurie,  Ab- 
beygreen. 

1  'T  WAS  in  the  merry  month  of  June, 

When  woods  and  gardens  were  all  in  bloom, 
When  woods  and  gardens  were  all  in  bloom. 
And  Phoebus  shining  clearly. 


2  Did  you  not  see  your  shepherd-swain. 
Feeding  his  flocks  upon  the  plain, 
Feeding  his  flocks  all  one  by  one. 

And  keeping  them  together  ? 

3  Did  you  not  see  yon  bonny  green. 

Where  dukes  and   lords   and   my  love   hath 
been, 


120 


280.     THE  BEGGAR-LADDIE 


r 


d^^ 


I  Where  dukes   and  lords   and  my  love  hath 

been, 
And  Phoebus  shining  clearly  ? 

4  '  0  shepherd,  shepherd,  tell  me  indeed 

j  Which  is  the  way  you  dou  win  your  bread, 

/  Which  is  the  way  you  dou  win  your  bread, 

When  feeding  you  give  over  ?  ' 

5  '  By  making  spindles  I  win  my  bread, 
I          By  turning  whorles  in  time  of  need, 

'  By  turning  whorles  in  time  of  need, 

Say,  lassy,  can  you  love  me  ? ' 


6  '  I  could  love  you  manifold, 
As  Jacob  loved  Rachel  of  old. 
As  Jacob  loved  Rachel  of  old, 

So  dearly  could  I  love  you.' 

7  '  You  must  cast  off  these  robes  of  silk, 
And  put  about  my  shepherd's  cloak, 
And  you  must  walk  down  at  my  back. 

Like  a  shepherd's  bonny  lassie.' 


8  She  has  cast  off  her  robes  of  silk. 
And  put  about  his  shepherd's  cloak, 
And  she  has  walkd  down  at  his  back. 

Like  a  shepherd's  bonny  lassie. 

9  O  they  walked  up,  and  they  walked  down, 
Till  this  fair  maiden  she  's  weary ed  grown ; 
Says  she,  My  dear,  we  '11  go  to  some  town. 

And  there  tak  up  our  lodgings. 

10  O  whan  they  cam  to  his  father's  gate, 
Sae  loudly,  loudly  as  he  did  rap  ; 

Says  she.  My  dear,  we  '11  be  found  in  fault 
For  rapping  here  sae  boldly. 

11  teut  whan  they  cam  to  his  father's  hall, 
O  loud,  loud  laughter  they  laughed  all, 
Saying,  Brother,  I  wish  we  had  herded  all. 

Ye  've  got  sic  an  a  bonny  lassie. 

12  Now  this  young  couple  they  were  wed, 
And  all  the  way  the  flowers  were  spread. 
For  in  disguise  they  were  married ; 

She 's  now  the  young  squire's  lady. 


A.  2^.  who  wad.     Cf.  *Gaberlunyie-Man,'  10'.     C, 
D,  B,  time  o  need. 
4^  clouty  clok.     Cf.  h\ 

4,  5.  In  the  other  copies,  the  lady  casts  off  her 
better  clothes,  and  puts  on  the  beggin-weed, 
his  cloutit  claes,  a  clouty  cloak,  his  shep- 
herd's cloak,  and  this  disposition  is  no  doubt 
the  right  one. 


6".  She  bought.     He,  O,  They,  B,  D,  either 

of  which  is  preferable. 
15^.  wouded. 

C.  8S  9S  10^   Oh. 
8^.  Borrowstoun. 

D.  6,  7  are  printed  together. 


281.  THE  REACH  I  THE  CREEL 


121 


281 
THE  KEACH  I  THE  CREEL 

A.  '  The  Keach  i  the  Creel,'   Alexander  Whitelaw,      C.     '  The  Cunning  Clerk,'  Buchan's  Ballads  of  the 
The  Book  of  Scottish  Ballads,  p.  35,  1845 ;  Dixon,  North  of  Scotland,  I,  278,  1828. 

Ancient  Poems,  Ballads,  and  Songs,  p.  112,  Percy 

Society,  vol.  xvii,  1846.  D.     '  The  Covering  Blue,'  Kinloch  MSS,  I,  276  ;  Kin- 

loch's  Ballad  Book,  p.  61,  1827. 

B.  'The  Creel,  or,  Bonnie  May.'   Communicated  by 
Mr  David  Louden,  Morham,  Haddington,  1873. 


A  FEW  copies  of  A  were  printed  about  1845 
by  a  Northumbrian  gentleman  for  private  dis- 
tribution. One  of  these  came  into  Whitelaw's 
hands,  another  into  Dixon's.  Dixon  made 
some  changes  in  reprinting.  Bell,  Ancient 
Poems,  etc.,  p.  75,  1857,  and  Bruce  and 
Stokoe,  Northumbrian  Minstrelsy,  p.  82, 
1882,  repeat  Dixon.  This  last  remarks  that 
"  this  old  and  very  humorous  ballad  has  long 
been  a  favorite  on  both  sides  of  the  Border." 
James  Telfer,  writing  to  Sir  W.  Scott, 
May  12,  1824  [Letters,  XIII,  No  73],  says  : 
"  I  have  an  humorous  ballad  sung  by  a  few  of 
the  old  people  on  this  side  of  the  Border.  It 
is  entitled  The  Keach  in  the  Creel.  It  begins 
thus  : 

A  bonny  may  went  up  the  street 

Some  whitewish  (sic)  for  to  buy, 
And  a  bonny  clerk 's  f  aen  in  love  with  her, 
And  he  's  followed  her  by  and  by,  by, 
And  he  *s  followed  her  by  and  by." 

Buchan  notes,  I,  319,  that  Motherwell  had 
sent  him  a  ballad  "somewhat  similar  in  inci- 
dent," taken  down  from  the  recitation  of  an 
old  woman  in  or  near  Paisley. 

This  was  perhaps  a  copy  of  which  the  first 
stanza  is  entered  in  Motherwell's  Note-Book, 
p.  55: 

When  I  gade  doun  to  Colliestoun, 
Some  white-fish  for  to  buy,  buy, 

The  cannie  clarkie  follows  me, 
And  he  follows  me  spedily,  -ly. 


Or  the  ballad  called  '  Ricadoo '  in  the  Ap- 
pendix to  Motherwell's  Minstrelsy,  p.  xxiii, 
No  29,  where  this  first  stanza  is  given : 

The  farmer's  daughter  gade  to  the  market, 

Some  white-fish  for  to  buy  ; 
The  young  squire  followed  after  her. 
As  fast  as  he  could  hie.     Bicadoo, 
Tunaway,  ricadoo  a  doo  a  day, 
Raddle  ricadoo, 
Tunaway 

Though  occurring  only  in  a  late  Scottish 
ballad,  the  story  is  somewhat  old.  In  Gast^, 
Chansons  normandes  du  XV*  si^cle,  MS.  de 
Vire,  No  19,  p.  15,  a  gentleman  of  Orleans 
causes  his  servants  to  let  him  down  a  chim- 
ney in  a  basket,  and  conceals  himself  under  a 
lady's  bed.  She,  made  aware  of  his  presence, 
sends  her  husband  off  to  the  barn,  where,  she 
says,  he  will  find  the  cur^,  who  has  made  love 
to  her.  On  returning,  the  husband  gets  his 
feet  into  the  basket,  and  the  servants  without 
draw  the  basket  up.  The  man  cries  out  to 
his  wife  that  the  devil  is  making  away  with 
him. 

Again,  in  a  fabliau  considerably  older: 
'  Du  chevalier  a  la  corbeille,'  MS.  of  the  end 
of  the  fourteenth  century,  F.  Michel,  Gautier 
d'Aupais,  Le  chevalier  a  la  Corbeille,  Fabliaux 
du  XIIP  si^cle,  p.  35 ;  Montaiglon  et  Ray- 
naud, Recueil  g^n^ral  des  Fabliaux,  etc.,  II, 
183.  A  gentleman  makes  appointment  to 
visit  a  lady  one  night  when  her  husband  is 


U^ 


et 


Ir* 


/ 


vol*  V. 


16 


122 


281.    THE  REACH  I  THE  CREEL 


away.  An  old  woman,  the  husband's  mo- 
ther, sleeps  in  a  bed  beside  the  lady's,  and 
keeps  strict  watch  over  her.  The  gentleman's 
squires  hoist  him  in  a  basket  over  the  wall  of 
the  house,  so  that  he  obtains  entrance  into 
the  hall,  whence  he  passes  into  the  lady's 
chamber.  The  old  woman  observes  a  dis- 
turbance, and  gets  up,  pretending  that  she  is 
going  to  the  kitchen.  In  the  hall  she  goes 
astray  and  falls  into  the  basket.  The  squires, 
noticing  a  movement  of  the  cords,  pull  at  the 
basket.  The  old  woman  is  '  towed  '  up  and 
down,  and  knocked  about,  much  as  in  the  bal- 
lad.    She  thinks  that  devils  have  carried  her 


off.  Finally  the  squires  let  the  cords  go,  and 
the  basket  comes  flat  to  the  ground. 

The  story  is  also  told  in  Henri  Estienne's 
Apologie  pour  H^rodote,  1566 ;  here,  of  a  girl 
and  her  lover,  and  it  is  the  girl's  father  that 
gets  his  feet  into  the  basket.  Ed.  Ristelhuber, 
1879,  I,  282  f! 

No  one  looks  for  decorum  in  pieces  of  this 
description,  but  a  passage  in  this  ballad, 
which  need  not  be  particularized,  is  brutal 
and  shameless  almost  beyond  example. 

C  is  translated  by  Gerhard,  p.  192. 


s-"^ 


Whitelaw's  Book  of  Scottish  Ballads,  p.  35 ;   "  taken 
down  from  the  recitation  of  a  gentleman  in  Liddesdale." 

1  A  FAIR  young  may  went  up  the  street, 

Some  white-fish  for  to  buy, 
And  a  bonnie  clerk  's  f  aen  in  love  wi  her, 
And  he 's  followed  her  by  and  by,  by, 
And  he 's  followed  her  by  and  by. 

2  '  O  where  live  ye,  my  bonnie  lass, 

I  pray  thee  tell  to  me  ; 
For  gin  the  nicht  were  ever  sae  mirk 
I  wad  come  and  visit  thee.' 

3  *  0  my  father  he  aye  locks  the  door, 

My  mither  keeps  the  key  ; 
And  gin  ye  were  ever  sic  a  wily  wight 
Ye  canna  win  in  to  me.' 

4  But  the  clerk  he  had  ae  true  brother, 

And  a  wily  wight  was  he ; 

And  he  has  made  a  lang  ladder, 

Was  thirty  steps  and  three. 

6  He  has  made  a  cleek  but  and  a  creel, 
A  creel  but  and  a  pin  ; 
And  he  's  away  to  the  chimley-top, 
And  he  's  letten  the  bonnie  clerk  in. 

6  The  auld  wife,  being  not  asleep, 
Heard  something  that  was  said  ; 


*  I  '11  lay  my  life,*  quo  the  silly  auld  wife, 
'  There  's  a  man  i  our  dochter's  bed.' 

7  The  auld  man  he  gat  owre  the  bed, 
To  see  if  the  thing  was  true ; 
But  she  's  ta'en  the  bonny  clerk  in  her  arms, 
And  coverd  him  owre  wi  blue. 

(S) '  O  where  are  ye  gaun  now,  father  ? '  she  says, 
*  And  where  are  ye  gaun  sae  late  ? 
Ye  've  disturbd  me  in  my  evening  prayers, 
And  O  but  they  were  sweet ! ' 

9  '  O  iU  betide  ye,  silly  auld  wife, 
And  an  ill  death  may  ye  die  ! 
She  has  the  muckle  bulk  in  her  arms, 
And  she  's  prayin  for  you  and  me.' 

10  The  auld  wife  being  not  asleep, 

Then  something  mair  was  said ; 
'  I  '11  lay  my  life,'  quo  the  silly  auld  wife, 
'  There 's  a  man  i  our  dochter's  bed.' 

11  The  auld  wife  she  got  owre  the  bed, 

To  see  if  the  thing  was  true ; 
But  what  the  wrack  took  the  auld  wife's  fit  ? 
For  into  the  creel  she  flew. 

12  The  man  that  was  at  the  chimley-top, 

Finding  the  creel  was  fu. 
He  wrappit  the  rape  round  his  left  shouther, 
And  fast  to  him  he  drew. 


281.    THE  REACH  I  THE  CREEL 


123 


13  '  O  help !  0  help !     O  hinny,  now,  help ! 

0  help,  O  hinny,  now ! 

For  him  that  ye  aye  wished  me  to 
He 's  carryin  me  off  just  now.' 

14  '  0  if  the  foul  thief  's  gotten  ye, 

1  wish  he  may  keep  his  haud  ; 
For  a'  the  lee  lang  winter  nicht 

Ye  '11  never  lie  in  your  bed.' 

15  He  's  towed  her  up,  he  's  towed  her  down, 

He 's  towed  her  through  an  through ; 


*  0  Gude  assist ! '  quo  the  sUly  auld  wife, 
'  For  I  'm  just  departin  now.' 

16  He 's  towed  her  up,  he 's  towed  her  down, 

He  's  gien  her  a  richt  down-fa, 
Till  every  rib  i  the  auld  wife's  side 
Playd  nick-nack  on  the  wa. 

17  O  the  blue,  the  bonnie,  bonnie  blue, 

And  I  wish  the  blue  may  do  weel ! 
And  every  auld  wife  that 's  sae  jealous  o  her 
dochter. 
May  she  get  a  good  keach  i  the  creel ! 


B 


Communicated  February,  1873,  by  Mr  David  Louden,  of 
Morham,  Haddington,  N.  B.,  as  derived  from  Andrew 
Hastie,  Beutonhall. 

1  As  bonnie  may  went  up  the  street. 

Some  sweetmeats  for  to  buy, 
There  was  a  young  clerk  followed  after  her, 
And  followed  her  by  and  by,  by. 
And  followed  her  by  and  by. 

2  *  It 's  bonnie  may,  where  do  you  stay  ? 

Or  where  is  't  that  you  be  ? 
Oh  if  the  night  be  neer  so  dark, 
Awat  I  '11  come  and  visit  thee.' 

3  *  My  father  locks  the  door  at  een. 

My  mother  keeps  the  key  ; 
Gin  ye  were  neer  sic  a  rovin  blade. 
Ye  canna  win  in  to  me.' 

4  The  young  clerk  has  a  young  brither, 

And  a  wily  wag  was  he  ; 
He  's  made  to  him  a  long  ladder, 
Wi  thirty  steps  and  three. 

6  And  he 's  put  it  to  the  chimney-top. 
And  the  creel  he 's  put  on  a  pin. 
And  he  's  put  it  to  the  chimney-top, 
And  he 's  let  the  young  clerk  in. 

6  The  auld  wife  she  was  standing  by. 
She  heard  a  word  was  said  ; 
*  I  could  lay  my  life,'  said  the  silly  auld  wife, 
*  There 's  a  man  in  oor  dochter's  bed.' 


7  The  auld  man  he  cam  doun  the  stairs 

To  see  if  it  were  true ; 
The  young  clerk  was  lying  in  bonnie  may's 
arms. 
And  she  's  covered  him  oer  wi  blue. 

8  '  Where  are  you  going,  dear  father  ? '  she  says, 

'  Where  are  you  going  so  late  ? 
You  stopped  me  of  my  evening  prayers. 
And  oh,  but  they  were  sweet ! ' 

9  *  The  deil  tak  you,  ye  silly  auld  wife. 

And  an  iU  death  may  ye  dee  ! 
For  your  dochter  was  lyin  wi  the  book  in  her 
arms. 
And  she 's  prayin  for  you  and  me.' 

10  The  auld  wife  still  standin  no  far  by, 

Still  hearin  a  word,  she  said, 
*  Ye  may  say  as  ye  like,  ye  silly  auld  man, 
There 's  a  man  in  oor  dochter's  bed.' 

11  I  dinna  ken  what 's  taen  the  auld  wife's  fit, 

But  into  the  creel  she  flew ; 
The  young  clerk['s  brither]  being  at  the  ehim- 
ney-top. 
He  found  the  creel  was  fa. 

12  He 's  thrown  the  rope  out-owre  his  shoather, 

And  to  him  he  did  draw  ; 
He 's  drawn  her  up,  he 's  drawn  her  doun. 
He  's  drawn  her  through  and  through. 

13  Till  the  auld  wife  she  began  to  cry, 

I  'm  just  departin  noo ! 


124 


881.    THE  KEACH  I  THE  CREEL 


But  aye  he  drew  her  up  and  doun, 
And  drew  her  through  and  through. 

14  He  's  drawn  her  up,  he 's  let  her  doun, 
He  's  gien  her  evendoun  fall, 
Till  every  rib  on  the  auld  wife's  side 
Played  nick-nack  on  the  wall. 


15  It 's  O  the  blue,  the  bonnie,  bonnie  blue, 
I  wish  the  blue  may  do  weel ! 
For  every  auld  wife  that  is  jealous  o  her  dochter 
May  be  rockit  to  the  d  —  1  in  a  creel ! 


Buchan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  I,  278. 

1  As  I  gaed  down  to  Collistown, 

Some  white-fish  for  to  buy,  buy, 
The  cunning  clerk  he  followed  me. 
And  he  followed  me  speedily,  ly, 
And  he  followed  me  speedily. 

2  Says,  Faur  ye  gaun,  my  dearest  dear  ? 

0  faur  ye  gaun,  my  dow  ? 

There  's  naebody  comes  to  my  bedside, 
And  naebody  wins  to  you. 

3  '  Your  brother  is  a  gallant  square-wright, 

A  gallant  square-wright  is  he ; 
Ye  11  gar  him  make  a  lang  ladder, 
Wi  thirty  steps  and  three. 

4  *  And  gar  him  big  a  deep,  deep  creel, 

A  deep  creel  and  a  string, 
And  ye  '11  come  up  to  my  bedside, 
And  come  bonnily  linken  in.' 

5  The  auld  gudeman  and  auld  gudewife, 

To  bed  they  went,  to  sleep ; 
But  wae  mat  worth  the  auld  gudewife ! 
A  wink  she  coudna  get. 

6  *  I  dreamd  a  dreary  dream  this  night, 

1  wish  it  binna  true. 

That  the  rottens  had  come  thro  the  wa. 
And  cutted  the  coverin  blue.' 

7  Then  up  it  raise  the  auld  gudeman. 

To  see  gin  it  was  true  ; 
And  he 's  gane  to  his  daughter  dear. 
Says,  What  are  ye  doing,  my  dow  ? 


8  '  What  are  ye  doing,  my  daughter  dear  ? 

What  are  ye  doing,  my  dow  ?  ' 
'  The  prayer  book 's  in  my  hand,  father. 
Praying  for  my  auld  minnie  and  you.' 

9  The  auld  gudeman  and  auld  gudewife, 

To  bed  they  went,  to  sleep ; 
But  wae  mat  worth  the  auld  gudewife ! 
But  aye  she  wakend  yet. 

10  'I  dreamd' a  dreary  dream  this  night, 

I  wish  it  binna  true. 
That  the  cunning  clerk  and  your  ae  daughter 
Were  aneath  the  coverin  blue.' 

11  *  O  rise  yoursell,  gudewife,'  he  says, 

*  The  diel  may  had  you  fast ! 
Atween  you  and  your  ae  daughter 
I  canno  get  ae  night's  rest.' 

12  Up  then  raise  the  auld  gudewife. 

To  see  gin  it  was  true. 
And  she  fell  arselins  in  the  creel, 
And  up  the  string  they  drew. 

13  *  Win  up,  win  up,  gudeman,'  she  says, 

'  Win  up  and  help  me  now  ! 
For  he  that  ye  gae  me  to  last  night, 
I  think  he  's  catchd  me  now.' 

14  '  Gin  Auld  Nick  he  has  catchd  you  now, 

I  wish  he  may  had  you  fast ; 
As  for  you  and  your  ae  daughter, 
I  never  get  kindly  rest.' 

15  They  howded  her,  and  they  showded  her, 

Till  the  auld  wife  gat  a  fa. 
And  three  ribs  o  the  auld  wife's  side 
Gaed  knip-knap  ower  in  twa. 


281.    THE  KEACH  I  THE  CREEL 


125 


Kinloch  MSS,  I,  276 ;   from   Alexander    Kinnear,    of 
Stonehaven. 

1  *  My  father  he  locks  the  doors  at  nicht, 

My  mither  the  keys  carries  ben,  ben ; 
There 's  naebody  dare  gae  out,'  she  says, 
'  And  as  few  dare  come  in,  in, 
And  as  few  dare  come  in.' 

2  '  I  will  mak  a  lang  ladder, 

Wi  fifty  steps  and  three, 
I  will  mak  a  lang  ladder, 

And  lichtly  come  doxin  to  thee.' 

3  He  has  made  a  lang  ladder, 

Wi  fifty  steps  and  three, 
He  has  made  a  lang  ladder. 
And  lichtly  come  doun  the  lum. 

4  They  had  na  kissd  nor  lang  clappit, 

As  lovers  do  whan  they  meet, 
Till  the  auld  wife  says  to  the  auld  man, 
I  hear  somebody  speak. 

5  '  I  dreamed  a  dreem  sin  late  yestreen, 

And  I  'm  feard  my  dream  be  true ; 
I  dreamd  that  the  rottens  cam  thro  the  wa. 
And  cuttit  the  covering  blue. 


6  '  Ye  '11  rise,  ye  '11  rise,  my  auld  gudeman, 

And  see  gin  this  be  true  ; ' 
'  If  ye  're  wanting  rising,  rise  yoursel. 
For  I  wish  the  auld  chiel  had  you.' 

7  *  I  dreamed  a  dream  sin  late  yestreen. 

And  I  'm  feard  my  dream  be  true ; 
I  dreamd  that  the  clerk  and  our  ae  dother 
War  rowed  in  the  covering  blue. 

8  *  Ye  '11  rise,  ye  'U  rise,  my  auld  gudeman. 

And  see  gin  this  be  true  : ' 
'  If  ye  're  wanting  rising,  rise  yoursel, 
For  I  wish  the  auld  chiel  had  you.' 

9  But  up  she  raise,  and  but  she  gaes. 

And  she  fell  into  the  gin  ; 
He  gied  the  tow  a  clever  tit. 

That  brought  her  out  at  the  lum. 

10  *  Ye  '11  rise,  ye  '11  rise,  my  auld  gudeman, 

Ye  'U  rise  and  come  to  me  now, 
For  him  that  ye  've  gien-  me  sae  lang  till, 
I  fear  he  has  gotten  me  now.' 

11  *  The  grip  that  he 's  gotten,  I  wish  he  may  haud. 

And  never  let  it  gae, 
For  atween  you  and  your  ae  dother 
I  rest  neither  nicht  nor  day.' 


A.  1*.  May  (not  may). 

Dixon  says :  In  the  present  impression  some 
trifling  typographical  mistakes  are  corrected, 
and  the  phraseology  has  been  rendered  uni- 
form throughout. 


B. 


In  6',  he  prints,  Tho  late,  late  was  the  hour; 

6*,  dochter's  bower ;  10*,  by  our  ;  IS'',  hinny, 

do ;  13',  wished  me  at. 
IS  2\  7".  May  {not  may).     1*.  by  and  bye. 
16S  She  cries  aye,  It 's  oh. 


126 


282.    JOCK  THE  LEG  AND  THE  MEHKY  MEKCHANT 


282 
JOCK  THE  LEG  AND  THE  MERRY  MERCHANT 

Buchan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  II,  165. 


Jock  the  Leg  and  a  merchant  (packman, 
pedlar)  put  up  at  the  same  tavern.  Jock 
makes  free  to  order  a  good  supper  at  the  mer- 
chant's expense ;  the  packman  gives  notice 
that  he  will  not  pay  a  penny  beyond  his  own 
shot.  They  go  to  bed  in  rooms  separated  by 
a  locked  door,  but  before  the  merchant  is 
well  asleep  Jock  appears  at  his  feet  and  rouses 
him  ;  it  is  more  than  time  that  they  were  on 
their  road.  The  merchant  will  not  stir  a  foot 
till  daylight ;  he  cannot  go  by  Barnisdale  or 
Coventry  for  fear  that  Jock  the  Leg  should 
take  his  pack.  His  self-imposed  comrade 
promises  to  see  him  safely  through  these 
places,  but  when  they  come  to  dangerous 
ground  avows  himself  as  Jock  the  Leg,  and 
demands  the  pack.  The  merchant  puts  his 
pack  under  a  tree,  and  says  he  will  jBght  for 
it  till  daylight ;  they  fight ;  the  robber  finds 
a  more  than  equal  match,  cries  Hold  !  and 
begs  the  boon  of  a  blast  on  his  horn,  to  which 
the  merchant  contemptuously  accedes.  Four- 
and-twenty  bowmen  come  to  Jock's  help.  The 
merchant  offers  to  give  up  his  pack  if  the  six 
best  of  these,  and  Jock,  the  seventh,  can  drive 
him  one  foot  from  it.  The  seven  make  the 
attempt  and  fail.  The  merchant,  holding  hLs 
pack  in  one  hand,  slays  five  of  the  six  with 
his  broadsword,  and  knocks  over  the  other. 


Jock  declares  him  to  be  the  boldest  swords, 
man  he  has  ever  fought  with;  if  he  were 
equally  good  with  the  bow,  he  should  have 
service  with  Jock's  master  in  the  greenwood. 
The  merchant  would  not  join  a  robber-band. 
Jock  proposes  a  barter  of  deerskins  for  fine 
linen.  The  merchant  wants  no  stolen  deer- 
skins. '  Take  your  pack,'  says  Jock,  *  and 
wherever  we  meet  we  shall  be  good  comrades.' 
'  I  '11  take  my  pack,'  says  the  uncompromising 
merchant,  '  and  wherever  we  meet  I  '11  call 
thee  a  rank  thief.* 

This  piece,  but  for  names  (and  Jock  the 
Leg  is  only  a  thin  shrouding  for  Little  John), 
might  have  gone  with  the  Robin  Hood  bal- 
lads. It  was  composed,  probably,  in  the  last 
half  of  the  eighteenth  century,  and  for  hawk- 
ers' purposes,  but  it  is  a  better  ballad,  imita- 
tion as  it  is,  than  some  of  the  seventeenth- 
century  broadsides  of  the  same  class  (which 
is  indeed  saying  very  little).  The  fight  for 
the  pack,  13,  14,  20,  we  have  in  '  The  Bold 
Pedlar  and  Robin  Hood '  (also  a  late  ballad), 
No  ^32^6,  7, 10 ;  the  "  asking  "  of  a  blast  on 
the  horn  and  the  scornful  reply,  16,  ^7,  in 
*  Robin  Hood  and  the  Shepherd,'  No  ,1355 1^» 
16,  with  verbal  similarity  in  the  first  case. 
(17  is  all  but  a  repetition  of  No  123;  B  26, 


andNo^40,B26O 


1  As  Jock  the  Leg  and  the  merry  merchant 
Came  from  yon  borrow's  town, 
They  took  their  budgets  on  their  backs, 
And  fieldert  they  were  boun. 


2  But  they  came  to  a  tavern-house, 
Where  chapmen  used  to  be : 
'  Provide,  provide,'  said  Jock  the  Leg, 
'  A  good  supper  for  me. 


282.    JOCK  THE  LEG  AND  THE  MERRY  MERCHANT 


127 


3  '  For  the  merry  merchant  shall  pay  it  a', 

Tho  it  were  good  merks  three  ; ' 
'  But  never  a  penny,'  said  the  merry  merchant, 
'  But  shot,  as  it  fa's  me. 

4  *  A  bed,  a  bed,'  said  the  merry  merchant, 

*  It 's  time  to  go  to  rest ; ' 

*  And  that  ye  shall,'  said  the  good  goodwife, 
'  And  your  covrings  o  the  best.' 

5  Then  Jock  the  Leg  in  one  chamber  was  laid. 

The  merchant  in  another, 
And  lockfast  door  atween  them  twa, 
That  the  one  might  not  see  the  other. 

6  But  the  merchant  was  not  well  lain  down, 

Nor  yet  well  fa'en  asleep, 
Till  up  it  starts  him  Jock  the  Leg, 
Just  at  the  merchant's  feet. 

7  *  Win  up,  win  up,'  said  Jock  the  Leg, 

'  We  might  hae  been  miles  three  ; ' 
'  But  never  a  foot,'  said  the  merry  merchant, 

*  Till  day  that  I  do  see. 

8  *  For  I  cannot  go  by  Bamisdale, 

Nor  yet  by  Coventry ; 
For  Jock  the  Leg,  that  common  thie^ 
Would  take  my  pack  from  me.' 

9  '  I  '11  hae  you  in  by  Barnisdale, 

And  down  by  Coventry, 
And  I  '11  g^ard  you  f rae  Jock  the  Leg 
Till  day  that  ye  do  see.' 

10  When  they  were  in  by  Barnisdale, 

And  in  by  Coventry, 
*  Repeat,  repeat,'  said  Jock  the  Leg, 
'  The  words  ye  ance  tauld  me.' 

11  *  I  never  said  aught  behind  your  back 

But  what  I  '11  say  to  thee  ; 
Are  ye  that  robber,  Jock  the  Leg, 

Will  take  my  pack  f  rae  me  ?  '  ' 

12  *  0  by  my  sooth,'  said  Jock  the  Leg, 

'  You  '11  find  that  man  I  be  ; 
Surrender  that  pack  that 's  on  your  back, 
Or  then  be  slain  by  me.' 

13  He  's  ta'en  his  pack  down  frae  his  back. 

Set  it  below  yon  tree  ; 
Says,  I  will  fight  for  my  good  pack 
Till  day  that  I  may  see. 


14  Then  they  fought  there  in  good  greenwood 

Till  they  were  bloody  men  ; 
The  robber  on  his  knees  did  fall, 
Said,  Merchant,  hold  your  hand. 

15  '  An  asking,  asking,'  said  Jock  the  Leg, 

'  An  asking  ye  'U  grant  me  ; ' 
*  Ask  on,  ask  on,'  said  the  merry  merchant, 
'  For  men  to  asking  are  free.' 

16  '  I  've  dune  little  harm  to  you,'  he  said, 

'  More  than  you  'd  been  my  brother ; 
Give  me  a  blast  o  my  little  wee  horn. 
And  I  '11  give  you  another.' 

17  *  A  blast  o  your  little  wee  horn,'  he  said, 

*  Of  this  I  take  no  doubt ; 
I  hope  you  will  take  such  a  blast 
Ere  both  your  eyes  fly  out.' 

18  He  set  his  horn  to  his  mouth. 

And  he  blew  loud  and  shriU, 
And  f  our-and-twenty  bauld  bowmen 
Came  Jock  the  Leg  until. 

19  *  Ohon,  alas ! '  said  the  merry  merchant, 

'  Alas !  and  woe  is  me ! 
Sae  many,  a  party  o  common  thiefs. 
But  nane  to  party  me  ! 

20  '  Ye  '11  wile  out  six  o  your  best  bowmen. 

Yourself  the  seventh  to  be. 
And,  put  me  one  foot  frae  my  pack, 
My  pack  ye  shall  have  free.' 

21  He  wiled  six  o  his  best  bowmen. 

Himself  the  seventh  to  be. 
But  [him]  frae  his  pack  they  couldna  get. 
For  all  that  they  could  dee. 

22  He  's  taen  his  pack  into  one  hand. 

His  broadsword  in  the  other. 
And  he  slew  five  o  the  best  bowmen. 
And  the  sixth  he  has  dung  over. 

23  Then  all  the  rest  they  gae  a  shout. 

As  they  stood  by  the  tree ; 
Some  said  they  would  this  merchant  head, 
Some  said  they  'd  let  him  be. 

24  But  Jock  the  Leg  he  then  replied, 

To  this  I  '11  not  agree  ; 
He  is  the  boldest  broadsword-man 
That  ever  I  fought  wi. 


128 


283.    THE  CRAFTY  FARMER 


25  *  If  ye  could  wield  the  bow,  the  bow 

As  ye  can  do  the  brand, 
I  would  hae  you  to  good  greenwood, 
To  be  my  master's  man.' 

26  *  Tho  I  could  wield  the  bow,  the  bow 

As  I  can  do  the  brand, 
I  would  not  gang  to  good  greenwood, 
To  join  a  robber-band.' 

27  '  O  give  me  some  of  your  fine  linen, 

To  cleathe  my  men  and  me. 
And  ye  'se  hae  some  of  my  dun  deers'  skins. 
Below  yon  greenwood-tree.' 


28  *  Ye  'se  hae  nane  o  my  fine  linen, 

To  cleathe  your  men  and  thee. 
And  I  '11  hae  nane  o  your  stown  deers'  skins. 
Below  yon  greenwood-tree.' 

29  '  Ye  '11  take  your  pack  upon  your  back, 

And  travel  by  land  or  sea ; 
In  brough  or  land,  wherever  we  meet, 
Good  billies  we  shall  be.* 

30  *  I  *11  take  my  pack  upon  my  back, 

And  go  by  land  or  sea  ; 
In  brough  or  land,  wherever  we  meet) 
A  rank  thief  I  '11  call  thee.' 


283 
THE  CRAFTY  FARMER 


a.  'The  Crafty  Farmer,'  Logan,  A  Pedlar's  Pack, 
p.  126,  from  a  chap-book  of  1796;  'The  Crafty 
Miller,'  Maidment,  Scotish  Ballads  and  Songs, 
1859,  p.  208,  from  a  Glasgow  stall-copy ;  a  stall- 
copy,  printed  by  M.  Randall,  Stirling. 

b.  '  The  Yorkshire  Farmer,'  Kidson,  Traditional  Tunes, 
p.  140,  from  The  Manchester  Songster,  1792. 

c.  '  Saddle  to  Rags,'  Dixon,  Ancient  Poems,  etc. ,  p.  1 26, 
Percy  Society,  vol.  xvii.,  taken  down  from  the  reci- 
tation of  a  Yorkshire  yeoman  in  1845. 

d.  '  The  Thief  Outwitted,'  Notes  and  Queries,  Fourth 


Series,  XI,  112,  1873,  taken  down  by  E.  McC, 
Guernsey,  "from  the  recitation  of  an  old  woman 
now  in  her  eighty -second  year,  who  learnt  it  in  her 
childhood  from  her  father,  a  laborer  from  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Yeovil." 

e.  '  The  Silly  Old  Man,'  Baring-Gould  and  Sheppard,    . 
Songs  and  Ballads  of  the  West,  3d  ed..  No  18,  Part  I,   ^ 
p.  38,  as  sung  by  the  Rev.  E.  Luscombe,  a  Devon- 
shire man,  about  1850  (Part  IV,  p.  xviii). 

f.  'The   Silly  Old  Man,'  Miss  M.  H.  Mason's  Nur-    ^ 
sery  Rhymes  and  Country  Songs,  p.  43,  as  sung  in 
Devonshire. 


An  old  farmer  who  is  on  his  way  to  pay 
n  his  rent  imparts  the  fact  to  a  gentlemanlike 
highwayman  who  overtakes  him.  The  high- 
wayman cautions  him  not  to  be  too  communi- 
cative, since  there  are  many  thieves  on  the 
roads.  The  old  man  has  no  fear ;  his  money 
is  safe  in  his  saddle-bags.  At  the  right  time 
and  place  the  thief  bids  him  stand  and  deliver. 
The  farmer  throws  his  saddle  over  a  hedge ; 
the  thief  dismounts  to  fetch  it,  and  gives  his 
horse  to  the  farmer  to  hold ;  the  farmer 
mounts  the  thief's  horse  and  rides  off.     The 


thief  hacks  the  saddle  to  pieces  to  get  at  the 
bags.  Arrived  at  his  landlord's,  the  farmer 
opens  the  thief's  portmanteau,  and  finds  in 
it  six  hundred  pounds.  The  farmer's  wife 
is  made  very  happy  by  her  husband's  report 
of  his  performances ;  the  thief's  money  will 
help  to  enlarge  her  daughter's  marriage  por- 
tion. 

This  very  ordinary  ballad  has  enjoyed  great 
popularity,  and  is  given  for  that  reason 
and  as  a  specimen  of  its  class.  There  is  an 
entirely   similar    one,   in    which    a    Norfolk 


283.    THE  CRAFTY  FARMER 


129 


^    (Rygate,  Cheshire)  farmer's  daughter  going 
to  market  to  sell  corn  is  substituted  for  the 
farmer  going  to  pay  his  rent :  '  The  Norfolk 
Maiden,'  in  The  Longing  Maid's  Garland,  of 
the  last  century,  without  place  or  date  ;*  '  The 
\  Maid  of  Rygate,'  Logan's  Pedlar's  Pack,  p. 
133  ;  '  The  Highwayman  Outwitted,'  Leigh's 
Ballads  and  Legends  of  Cheshire,  p.  267.   An- 
il   other  variety  is  of  a  Yorkshire  boy  sent  to  a 
fair  to  sell  a  cow :  '  Yorkshire  Bite,'  etc..  The 
Turnip-Sack    Garland    (like    The    Longing 
Maid's  Garland,  one  of   a  collection  of  He- 
ber's)  ;*  '  The  Yorkshire  Bite,'  "  from  a  col- 
^  lection  of  ballads  circa  1782,"  Logan's  Ped- 
^  lar's  Pack,  p.  131 ;  '  The  Crafty  Ploughboy,' 


Ingledew's  Ballads  and  Songs  of  Yorkshire, 
p.  209. 

For  certain  ballads  in  which  a  country  girl, 
beset  by  an  amorous  gentleman,  mounts  his 
horse  and  makes  off  with  his  valise  or  the  like, 
see  II,  483,  and  the  page  preceding. 

'  The  Politick  Squire,  or,  The  Highwaymen 
catch'd  in  their  own  play,'  is  a  ballad  of  a 
gentleman  who,  having  been  robbed  by  five 
highwaymen  that  then  purpose  to  shoot  him, 
tells  them  that  he  is  the  Pretender,  and  is 
taken  by  them  as  such  to  a  justice.  The 
squire  makes  explanations,  four  of  the  thieves 
are  hanged,  and  the  fifth,  who  had  shown 
some  mercy,  is  transported.! 


1  The  song  thatj^'m  going  to  sing, 

I  hope  it  wUl  g^ve  you  content, 
Concerning  a  sUly  old  man, 
That  was  going  to  pay  his  rent. 

2  As  he  was  riding  along, 

Along  aU  on  the  highway, 
A  gentleman-thief  overtook  him, 
And  thus  to  him  did  say. 


7  *  Thou  shouldst  not  have  told  any  body, 

For  thieves  there  's  ganging  many ; 
If  any  should  light  on  thee, 

They  '11  rob  thee  of  thy  money.' 

8  '  O  never  mind,'  said  the  old  man, 

'  Thieves  I  fear  on  no  side, 
For  the  money  is  safe  in  my  bags, 
On  the  saddle  on  which  I  ride.' 


3  '  "Well  overtaken  ! '  said  the  thief, 

'  Well  overtaken ! '  said  he  ; 
And  '  Well  overtaken ! '  said  the  old  man, 
*  If  thou  be  good  company.' 

4  *  How  far  are  you  going  this  way  ? ' 

Which  made  the  old  man  for  to  smile ; 
'  By  my  faith,'  said  the  old  man, 
'  I  *m  just  going  two  mile. 

5  '  I  am  a  poor  farmer,'  he  said, 

'  And  I  farm  a  piece  of  ground, 
And  my  half-year's  rent,  kind  sir, 
Just  comes  to  forty  pound. 


9  As  they  were  riding  along. 

The  old  man  was  thinking  no  ill, 
The  thief  he  pulled  out  a  pistol 
And  bid  the  old  man  stand  still. 

10  But  the  old  man  provd  crafty. 

As  in  the  world  there  's  many ; 
He  threw  his  saddle  oer  the  hedge. 
Saying,  Fetch  it,  if  thou  'It  have  any. 

11  The  thief  got  off  his  horse, 

With  courage  stout  and  hold, 
To  search  for  the  old  man's  bag, 
And  gave  him  his  horse  to  hold. 


6  '  And  my  landlord  has  not  been  at  home, 

I  've  not  seen  him  this  twelvemonth  or  more, 
Which  makes  my  rent  be  large ; 
I  've  to  pay  him  just  fourscore.* 

*  Also  among  the  garlands  collected  by  J.  Bell,  New- 
castle, British  Museum  :  the  first,  11621.  c.  2  (36),  and  4  (13) ; 
the  other,  c.  2  (70).  The  garlands  in  4  were  printed,  accord- 
ing to  Bell,  by  J.  White,  tl769,  or  by  T.  Saint,  tl788.         > 

VOL.  v.  17 


12  The  old  man  put 's  foot  i  the  stirrup 
And  he  got  on  astride  ; 
To  its  side  he  clapt  his  spur  up, 
You  need  not  bid  the  old  man  ride. 

t  Douce  Ballads,  III,  fol.  78  b.,  London,  Printed  and 
sold  at  Sympson's  Warehouse,  in  Stonecutter-Street,  Fleet- 
Market. 


130 


283.    THE  CRAFTY  FARMER 


13  *  O  stay ! '  said  the  thief,  '  O  stay ! 

And  half  the  share  thou  shalt  have ; ' 
*  Nay,  by  my  faith,'  said  the  old  man, 
'  For  once  I  have  bitten  a  knave.* 

14  The  thief  he  was  not  content. 

But  he  thought  there  must  be  bags  ; 
He  out  with  his  rusty  old  sword 
And  chopt  the  old  saddle  in  rags. 

15  When  he  came  to  the  landlord's  house, 

This  old  man  he  was  almost  spent ; 
Saying,  Come,  show  me  a  private  room 
And  I  '11  pay  you  a  whole  year's  rent. 

16  *  I  've  met  a  fond  fool  by  the  way, 

I  swapt  horses  and  gave  him  no  boot ; 
But  never  mind,'  said  the  old  man, 
'  For  I  got  the  fond  fool  by  the  foot' 


17  He  opend  this  rogue's  portmantle, 

It  was  glorious  to  behold  ; 
There  were  three  hxmdred  pounds  in  silver, 
And  three  hundred  pounds  in  gold. 

18  And  as  he  was  riding  home, 

And  down  a  narrow  lane. 
He  espied  his  mare  tied  to  a  hedge, 

Saying,  Prithee,  Tib,  wilt  thou  gang  hame  ? 

19  When  he  got  home  to  his  wife 

And  told  her  what  he  had  done, 
Up  she  rose  and  put  on  her  clothes. 
And  about  the  house  did  run. 

20  She  sung,  and  she  sung,  and  she  sung. 

She  sung  with  a  merry  devotion, 
Sajang,  If  ever  our  daughter  gets  wed, 
It  will  help  to  enlarge  her  portion. 


v< 


y 


a.  There  are  some  slight  verbal  differences  in 
the  three  copies,  but  none  worthy  of  notice. 

^  b.    1  A  song  I  will  sing  unto  you, 

A  song  of  a  merry  intent, 
It  is  of  a  silly  old  man 
I  That  went  to  pay  his  rent, 

I  That  went  to  pay  his  rent. 

2  And  as  he  was  riding  along, 

A  riding  along  the  highway, 
A  gentleman-thief  steps  before  the  old  man 
And  thus  unto  him  he  did  say. 

3  '  My  friend,  how  dare  you  ride  alone  ? 

For  so  many  thieves  there  now  be ; 
If  any  should  but  light  on  you. 

They  'd  rob  you  of  all  your  money.* 

4  *  If  that  they  should  light  upon  me, 

I  'm  sure  they  'd  be  very  ill-sped, 
For,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  my  kind  sir, 
In  my  saddle  my  money  I  've  hid.' 

5  So  as  they  were  riding  along, 

And  going  down  a  steep  hill. 
The  gentleman-thief  slipped  before  the  old 
man 
And  quickly  he  bid  him  stand  still. 


6  The  old  man,  however,  being  cunning, 

As  in  this  world  there  are  many. 
He  threw  the  saddle  right  over  the  hedge, 
Saying,  Fetch  it  if  thou  wouldst  have  any. 

7  The  thief  being  so  greedy  of  money  — 

He  thought  that  of  it  there  'd  been  bags  — 
Whipt  out  a  rusty  old  sword 
And  chopped  the  saddle  to  rags. 

8  The  old  man  put  his  foot  in  the  stirrup 

And  presently  he  got  astride  ; 
He  put  the  thief's  horse  to  the  gallop, 
You  need  not  bid  the  old  man  ride. 

9  *  Nay,  stay  !  nay,  stay ! '  says  the  thief, 

'  And  half  the  money  thou  shalt  have ;  * 
'  Nay,  by  my  troth,'  says  the  old  man, 
'  For  once  I  have  cheated  a  knave.' 

10  And  so  the  old  man  rode  along. 

And  went  with  a  merry  devotion, 
Saying,  If  ever  I  live  to  get  home, 
'T  will  enlarge  my  daughter's  portion. 

11  And  having  arrived  at  home. 

And  got  there  with  merry  intent. 
Says  he.  Landlord,  show  me  a  room. 
And  I  '11  pay  you  your  half-year's  rent. 


-7 


284.    JOHN  DORY 


131 


12  They  opened  the  thief's  portmanteau, 
And  from  it  they  took  out  so  bold 
A  hundred  pounds  in  silver 
And  a  hundred  pounds  in  gold. 

O-f ,  tJie  traditional  copies,  were  beyond  doubt  all 
derived  originally  from  pnnt.  c  is  froTn  a  / 
d-f  are  from  another  edition,  not  recovered^ 
resembling  b.  This  had  variations,  espe- 
cially at  the  beginning  and  end,  of  which 
some  specimens  will  suffice. 

d.  1  Oh  't  is  I  that  will  sin^ 

A  song  of  merry  intent ; 
'T  is  about  a  silly  old  man 

That  was  going  to  pay  his  rent. 

2  And  as  he  was  riding  along, 

Along  and  alone  in  a  lane, 
A  gentleman-thief  overtook  him, 
And  said,  Well  overtaken,  old  man ! 

3  '  You  're  well  overtaken,  old  man. 

You  're  well  overtaken  by  me ; ' 
*  Nay,  further  go,'  said  the  old  man, 
*  I  'm  not  for  thy  company.' 

4,  6  are  wanting,  a^  also  in  e,  f ,  (and  in  b). 

8"  '  He  shall  but  poorly  speed, 
For  aU  the  money  I  have 
In  my  old  saddle  't  is  hid.* 


19,  20  Oh,  when  that  he  came  home, 

His  daughter  she  looked  like  a  duchess, 
And  his  old  woman  capered  for  joy. 
And  danced  him  a  gig  on  her  crutches. 

e.  1  Aw  come  now,  I  '11  sing  you  a  song, 

'T  is  a  song  of  right  merry  intent, 
Concerning  a  silly  old  man 
Who  went  for  to  pay  his  rent. 

2  And  as  this  here  silly  old  man 

Was  riding  along  the  lane, 
A  gentleman-thief  overtook  him. 
Saying,  Well  overtaken,  old  man ! 

3  '  What,  well  overtaken,  do'y  say  ?  ' 

*  Yes,  well  overtaken,'  quoth  he ; 
*No,  no,'  said  the  silly  old  man, 
'  I  don't  want  thy  company.' 

8"  '  Why,  badly  the  thief  would  be  sped, 
For  the  money  I  carry  about  me 
In  the  quilt  o  my  saddle  is  hid.* 

19,  20  Aw,  when  to  his  home  he  were  come, 
His  daughter  he  dressd  like  a  duchess, 
And  his  ol  woman  kicked  and  she  capered 
for  joy. 
And  at  Christmas  danced  jigs  on  her 
cratches. 

f .  Resembles  d,  e  in  the  passages  cited. 


284 
JOHN  DORY 

Bavenscroft's  Deuteromelia,  London,  1609;  No  1  of  Freemen's  Songs,  sig.  B. 


John  Dory  goes  to  Paris  and  offers  King 
John,  in  return  for  a  pardon  asked  for  him- 
self and  his  men,  to  bring  the  French  king  all 
the  churls  in  England  in  bonds.  Nicholl,  a 
Cornish  man,  fits  out  a  good  bark,  has  an 


encounter  with  John  Dory,  and  after  a  smart 
fight  takes  him  prisoner. 

This  ballad  had  a  remarkable  popularity 
in  the  seventeenth  century,  as  is  evinced  by 
the  numerous  cases  of  its  being  cited  which 


132 


384.    JOHN  DORY 


Chappell  has  collected,  Popular  Music,  p. 
67  f.* 

As  to  the  history  of  the  transactions  set 
forth  in  the  ballad,  I  am  not  aware  that  any- 
thing has  been  added  to  the  account  given  by 
Carew  in  his  Survey  of  Cornwall,  1602,  p.  135, 
which  Ritson  has  quoted  in  the  second  edi- 
tion of  his  Ancient  Songs,  II,  57,  an  account 
which  is  likely  to  have  been  taken  from  the 
ballad,  with  the  specification  from  tradition 
that  NichoU  was  "  son  to  a  widow  near  Foy." 

"  Moreover,  the  prowess  of  one  Nicholas, 
son  to  a  widow  near  Foy,  is  descanted  upon  in 


an  old  three-man's  song,  namely,  how  he 
fought  bravely  at  sea  with  John  Dory  (a  Gen- 
owey,  as  I  conjecture),  set  forth  by  John,  the 
French  king,  and,  after  much  bloodshed  on 
both  sides,  took,  and  slew  him,  in  revenge 
of  the  great  ravine  and  cruelty  which  he  had 
fore  committed  upon  the  Englishmen's  goods 
and  bodies."  (Page  316  of  the  edition  of 
1813.) 

The  king  in  the  ballad  would  be  John  II, 
the  Good,  who  was  taken  prisoner  at  Poitiers, 
and  died  in  1364.  No  John  Doria  is  men- 
tioned as  being  in  his  service. 


1  As  it  fell  on  a  holy-day, 

And  vpon  an  holy-tide-a, 
lohn  Dory  bought  him  an  ambling  nag, 
To  Paris  for  to  ride-a. 

2  And  when  John  Dory  to  Paris  was  come, 

A  little  before  the  gate-a, 
John  Dory  was  fitted,  the  porter  was  witted 
To  let  him  in  thereat-a. 

3  The  first  man  that  John  Dory  did  meet 

Was  good  king  John  of  France-a  ; 
John  Dory  could  well  of  his  courtesie, 
But  fell  downe  in  a  trance-a. 

4  'A  pardon,    a    pardon,   my   liege    and    my 

king, 
For  my  merie  men  and  for  me-a, 
And  aU  the  churles  in  merie  England, 
I  'le  bring  them  all  bound  to  thee-a.* 

5  And  NichoU  was  then  a  Cornish  man, 

A  Httle  beside  Bohide-a, 


And  he  mande  forth  a  good  blacke  barke, 
With  fiftie  good  oares  on  a  side-a. 

6  '  Run  vp,  my  boy,  vnto  the  maine  top, 

And  looke  what  thou  canst  spie-a  : ' 
*  Who    ho !    who   ho !    a  goodly   ship   I   do 
see, 
I  trow  it  be  John  Dory  [-a.'] 

7  They  hoist  their  sailes,  both  top  and  top. 

The  meisseine  and  all  was  tride-a, 
And  euery  man  stood  to  his  lot, 
What  euer  should  betide-a. 

8  The  roring  cannons  then  were  plide. 

And  dub-a-dub  went  the  drumme-a ; 
The  braying  trumpets  lowde  they  cride 
To  courage  both  all  and  some-a. 

9  The  grappling-hooks  were  brought  at  length. 

The  browne  bill  and  the  sword-a, 
John  Dory  at  length,  for  all  his  strength, 
Was  clapt  fast  vnder  board-a. 


♦  The  song  "  I  cannot  eat  but  Httle  meat,"  introduced 
into  Gammer  Gur ton's  Needle,  which  was  acted  in  1566,  was 


sung  to '  John  Dory,'  says  Mr  Chappell,  as  above ;  but  there 
is  nothing  to  show  that  this  was  the  original  tune. 


285.    THE  GEOBGE  ALOE  AND  THE  SWEEPSTAKE 


133 


285 

THE  GEORGE  ALOE  AND  THE  SWEEPSTAKE 

a.  Percy  Papers,  "  from  an  ancient  black-letter  copy      c.  Roxburghe,  III,  204,  in  Ebswortb,  Roxburgbe  Bal- 
in  Ballard's  collection."  lads,  VI,  408. 

b.  Rawlinson,  566,  fol.  183,  4°. 


March  19,  1611,  there  were  entered  to 
Richard  Jones,  "Captayne  Jenninges  his 
songe,  whiche  he  made  in  the  Marshalsey," 
etc.,  and  "the  second  parte  of  the  George 
Aloo  and  the  Swiftestake,  beinge  both  bal- 
lades : "  Arber,  III,  456.  The  second  part 
of  the  George  Aloo  must  needs  mean  a  sec- 
ond ballad,  not  the  printers'  second  half 
(which  begins  in  o  at  the  stanza  here  num- 
bered 14).  In  '  The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen,' 
printed  in  1634,  and  perhaps  earlier,  the 
Jailer's  Daughter  sings  the  two  following 
stanzas  (Dyce,  XI,  386)  : 

The  George  Alow  came  from  the  south, 

From  the  coast  of  Barbary-a, 
And  there  he  met  with  brave  gallants  of  war, 

By  one,  by  two,  by  three-a. 

Well  haild,  well  haUd,  you  jolly  gallants, 

And  whither  now  are  you  bound-a  ? 
Oh,  let  me  have  your  company 

Till  [I]  come  to  the  sound-a. 

s 

These  verses,  whether  accurately  reported 
or  not,  certainly  seem  to  belong  to  another 
ballad.  Whether  they  are  from  the  first  part 
or  the  second  part,  we  have  no  means  of  assur- 
ing ourselves.  It  is  to  be  observed  that  in 
the  ballad  before  us  the  George  Aloe  and  the 
Sweepstake  are  sailing /or  Safee,  and  in  the 

*  There  is  an  entry,  July  31,  1590,  of  A  Ditty  of  the 

fight  upon  the  seas  the  fourth  of  June  last  in  the  Straits 

of  Gibraltar  between  the  George  and  the  Thomas  Bonaven- 

ture  and  eight  galleys  with  three  frigates  (Arber,  II,  557), 

S.  but  it  is  likely  that  there  were  Georges  many,  and  only  one 


other  case  the  George  Aloe  is  coming  from 
the  south,  from  the  coast  of  Barbary,  so  that 
the  adventure,  whatever  it  was,  may  have 
occurred  in  the  homeward  voyage;  but  the 
circumstance  is  not  decisive.* 

The  George  Aloe  and  the  Sweepstake,  mer- 
chantmen, are  bound  for  Safee.  The  George 
Aloe  anchors,  the  Sweepstake  keeps  on,  is 
taken  by  a  French  rover,  and  her  crew  thrown 
overboard.  The  George  Aloe  hears  of  this, 
and  sets  out  to  take  the  Frenchman.  Her 
second  shot  carries  away  the  enemy's  main- 
mast; the  Frenchmen  cry  for  mercy.  The 
English  ask  what  they  did  with  the  crew  of 
the  Sweepstake  ;  the  Frenchmen  confess  that 
they  threw  them  into  the  sea.  Such  mercy 
as  you  shewed  such  mercy  shall  you  have, 
say  the  English,  and  deal  with  the  French 
accordingly. 

'  Aboard,'  6^,  16^,  I  suppose  to  mean  along- 
side. '  Amain,'  7^,  16^,  is  strike  (sails)  in 
sign  of  surrender.  The  French  use  the  word 
derived  from  their  own  language ;  the  Eng- 
lish say,  strike.  '  Gallant '  Englishmen  in  7^ 
after  '  English  dogs '  in  6^  is  unlikely  cour- 
tesy, and  is  not  found  in  16^. 

*  The  Swepstacke  '  is  a  king's  ship  in  1545, 
and  '  The  Sweepstakes '  apparently  again  in 
1666  :  Historical  MSS  Commission,  12th  Re- 
port, Appendix,  Part  VII,  pp.  8,  45. 

Mr  Ebswortb  has  pointed  out  that  a  ballad  called  The 
Sailor's  Joy,  the  name  of  the  tune  to  which  '  The  George 
Aloe  and  the  Sweepstake'  was  to  be  sang,  was  entered 
in  the  Stationers'  Registers,  Jannary  14,  1595:  Arber,  II, 
669. 


0  -pA>A 


George  Aloe.    .  P^ 


r  f 


^)<K 


L(ruX. 


134 


285.  THE  GEORGE  ALOE  AND  THE  SWEEPSTAKE 


1  The  George  Aloe  and  the  Sweepstakes  too, 

With  hey,  with  ho,  for  and  a  nony  no 
They  were  two  merchant-men,  a  sailing  for 
Safee. 
And  along  the  course  of  Barbary 

2  [The  George  Aloe  to  anchor  came. 

But  the  joUy  Sweepstake  kept  on  her  way.] 

3  They  had  not  say  led  leagues  two  or  three 
Before  they  spyed  a  sail  upon  the  sea. 

4  '  O  hail,  O  hail,  you  lusty  gallants, 

From  whence  is  your  good  ship,  and  whither 
is  she  bound  ?  ' 

6  *0  we   are   some  merchant-men,  sailing  for 
Safee  : ' 
'  And  we  be  French  rebels,  a  roving  on  the  sea. 

6  '  O  hail,  O  hail,  you  English  dogs,  [hail !]  ' 

'  The[n]  come  aboard,  you  French  dogs,  and 
strike  down  your  sail ! ' 

7  '  Amain,  amain,  you  gallant  Englishmen  ! ' 

'  Come,  you  French  swades,  and  strike  down 
your  sails !  ' 

8  They  laid  us  aboard  on  the  starboard  side. 
And  they  overthrew  us  into  the  sea  so  wide. 

9  When  tidings  to  the  George  Aloe  came 
That  the  jolly  Sweepstakes  by  a  Frenchman 

was  tane, 

10  '  To  top,  to  top,  thou  little  ship-boy, 

And  see  if  this  French  man-of-war  thou  canst 
descry.' 

11  '  A  sail,  a  sail,  under  your  lee, 
Yea,  and  another  under  her  bough.' 

12  'Weigh  anchor,  weigh  anchor,  0  jolly  boat- 

swain. 
We  will  take  this  Frenchman  if  we  can.' 


13  We  had  not  sailed  leagues  two  or  three 

But  we  met  the  French  man-of-war  upon  the 
sea. 

14  '  All  hail,  all  hail,  you  lusty  gallants, 

Of  whence  is  your  fair  ship,  and  whither  is  she 
bound  ? ' 

15  'O   we   are   merchant-men,   and    bound    for 

Safee ; ' 
'  And  we  are  Frenchmen,  roving  upon  the  sea. 

16  '  Amain,  amain,  you  English  dogs  ! ' 

'  Come  aboard,  you  French  rogues,  and  strike 
your  sails ! ' 

17  The  first  good  shot  the  George  Aloe  shot. 
It  made  the  Frenchmen's  hearts  sore  afraid. 

18  The  second  shot  the  George  Aloe  did  afford, 
He  struck  the  main-mast  over  the  board. 

19  '  Have  mercy,  have   mercy,  you  brave  Eng- 

lish [men].' 
'  O  what  have  you  done  with  our  brethren  on 
[shore]  ? ' 
As  they  sail[ed]. 

20  '  We  laid  them  aboard  on  the  starboard  side, 
And  we  threw  them  into  the  sea  so  wide.' 

21  '  Such  mercy  as  you  have  shewed  unto  them, 
Even  the  like  mercy  shall  you  have  again.' 

22  We  laid  them  aboard  on  the  larboard  side, 
And  we  threw  them  into  the  sea  so  wide. 

23  Lord,  how  it  grieved  our  hearts  full  sore 

To  see  the  drowned  Frenchmen  float  along  the 
shore ! 

24  Now,  gallant  seamen  all,  adieu, 

With  hey,  with  ho,  for  and  a  nony  no 
This  is  the  last  news  that  I  can  write  to  you. 
To  England's  coast  from  Barbary 


a.  The  Seamans  only  Delight:  Shewing  the 
brave  fight  between  the  George  Aloe,  the 
Sweepstakes,  and  certain  French  Men  at  sea. 


Tune,  The  Sailor's  Joy,  etc.     (No  printers  \/ 
given  in  the  transcript.') 
b.  The  Saylors  only  Delight :  Shewing  the  brave 


286,    THE  SWEET  TRINITY   (THE  GOLDEN  VANITY) 


135 


Y 


X 


fight  between  the  George-Aloe,  the  Sweep- 
stake, and  certain  Frenchmen  at  sea.  To 
the  tune  of  The  Saylors  Joy.  London, 
Printed  for  F.  Coles,  T.  Vere  and  J. 
[Wright]  (torn).  1655-80,  Chappell. 
The  Sailors  onely  Delight :  Shewing  the  brave 
fight  between  George-Aloe,  the  Sweep-stakes, 
and  certain  French-men  at  sea.  To  the  tune 
of  The  Saylor's  Joy.  Printed  for  F.  Coles, 
J.  Wright,  Tho.  Vere,  and  W.  Gilbertson. 
T%e  earliest  known  hallad  by  the  four  to- 
gether is  dated  1655,  Chappell.  {See  No 
2,ld,  Appendix,  III,  b.) 
a.  1,  24.  Burden^,  anony. 

1.  Burden^,  course  should  probably  be  coast. 

2.  Wanting  ;  supplied  from,  b,  o. 
41.  O  hail,  oh.     5S  6S  151.  Oh. 
10^.  Frenchman  of  war. 

132.  French  Men  of  War. 

IV.  French  Mens. 

19.  Ends  torn  away.  Percy  gives,  after  eng- 
lish,  A,  which  may  be  the  first  half  of  an 
M ;  after  on,  fl,  which  may  possibly  be  a 
wrong  reading  of  (h.  Shore  is  not  what  we 
should  expect.    Defects  supplied  from,  b,  o. 

23".  French  Men. 


b.  1.  Burden^,  a  nony.      Burden^,  alongst  the 

cost. 
1^,  9*.  Sweepstake. 

1".  O  they  were  marchant  men  and  bound. 
3".  But  they  met  with  a  Frenchman  of  war 

upon. 
41.  All  hayl,  aU  hayl. 
4^.  Of  whence  is  your  fair  ship,  whether  are 

you  bound. 
5^  We  are  Englishmen  and  bound. 
5*.  Of  whence  is  your  fair  ship,  or  whether 

are  you  bound. 
6.    Wanting.     7K  swads.     lO'^.  Frenchman. 
11\  our  lee.     11".  under  her  obey. 
13".  Frenchman.     14".  is  it. 
15".  I,  and  we  are  Frenchmen  and  war. 
16".  strike  down.     17".  He  made  :  heart. 
18".  strook.     19^.  brave  Englishmen. 
19".  brethen  on  shore. 
Burden^.  As  they  sayled  into  Barbary. 
23^.  greives.     23".  swim  along. 
C.  4".  or  whither.     7K  Englishman.     7".  sayle. 
14".  whither  are  you.     16".  rogue. 
17".  hearts.     18".  struck  their. 
19".  brethren  on  shore.     Burden^  sayled  in. 
21".  Then  the.    Variations  otherwise  a,s  in  b. 


286 
THE  SWEET  TRINITY  (THE  GOLDEN  VANITY) 


A.  *  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  sailing  in  the  Low-lands,'  etc., 
Pepys  Ballads,  IV,  196,  No  189  (1682-86). 


B.  a.  'The  Goulden  Vanitie,'  Logan's  Pedlar's  Pack, 
p.  42;  Mrs  Gordon's  Memoir  of  John  Wilson,  II,  317. 
As  sung  by  Mr  G.  Du  Maurier,  sent  me  by  J.  R. 

c.  *  The  French  Galley,'  Motherwell's  MS., 

d.  Communicated  by  Mrs  MoncriefE,  of 
London,  Ontario,  e.  '  The  Lowlands  Low,'  Find- 
lay  MSS,  I,  161.  f.  Sharpe's  Ballad  Book,  1880, 
p.  160,  notes  of  Sir  Walter  Scott. 


b. 

Lowell, 
p.  420. 


C.  a.  '  Golden  Vanity,  or,  The  Low  Lands  Low,'  Pitts, 
Seven  Dials,  in  Logan's  Pedlar's  Pack,  p.  45;  Ebs- 
worth,  Roxburghe  Ballads,  VI,  419.  b.  '  The  Low- 
lands Low,'  Long,  Dictionary  of  the  Isle  of  Wight  Dia- 
lect, p.  145.  c.  '  Low  in  the  Lowlands  Low,'  Chris- 
tie, I,  238.  d.  '  The  Golden  Vanity,'  Baring- Gould 
and  Sheppard, '  Songs  of  the  West,'  No  64.  e.  '  The 
French  Gallio,'  '  The  French  Gallolee,'  Buchan 
MSS,  II,  390,  414.  f.  '  The  Turkish  Galley,'  Mo- 
therwell's MS.,  p.  392,  and  Note-Book,  p.  50. 
g.  '  The  Lowlands  Low,'  Macmath  MS.,  p.  80. 


A  also  in  Euing,  No  334,  Crawford,  No 
1073,  Huth,  II,  No  134;  all  by  the  same 
printer,  1682-85. 

Motherwell  enters  the  first  stanza  of  an- 


other copy  of  '  The  Turkish  Galley '  in  his 
Note-Book,  p.  10,  and  refers  to  three  copies 
more,  besides  B  d,  at  p.  51. 

There  is  a  retouched  copy  of  C  in  English 


136 


286.     THE   SWEET  TBINITY   (THE  GOLDEN   VANITY) 


County  Songs,  Lucy  E.  Broadwood  and  J.  A. 
Fuller  Maitland,  p.  182. 

B,  C,  are  probably  traditional  variations  of 
the  broadside  A.  The  conclusion  of  the 
broadside  is  sufficiently  inadequate  to  impel 
almost  any  singer  to  attempt  an  improvement, 
and  a  rather  more  effective  catastrophe  is  the 
only  signal  difference  besides  names.  It  is, 
however,  not  quite  impossible  that  the  ulti- 
mate source  of  the  traditional  copies  may  be 
as  old  as  the  broadside. 

A.  '  The  Sweet  Trinity,'  a  ship  built  by 
Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  has  been  taken  by  a  gal- 
ley of  a  nationality  not  specified.  The  master 
of  some  English  ship  asks  what  seaman  will 
take  the  galley  and  redeem  The  Sweet  Trin- 
ity. A  ship-boy  asks  what  the  reward  shall 
be  ;  the  reward  shall  be  gold  and  fee,  and  the 
master's  eldest  daughter.  The  ship-boy,  who 
is  possessed  of  an  auger  which  bores  fifteen 
holes  at  once,  swims  to  the  galley,  sinks  her, 
and  releases  The  Sweet  Trinity ;  then  swims 
back  to  his  ship  and  demands  his  pay.  The 
master  will  give  gold  and  fee,  but  not  his 
daughter  to  wife.  The  ship-boy  says.  Fare- 
well, since  you  are  not  so  good  as  your 
word. 

B.  No  ship  has  been  taken  by  an  enemy. 
The  Golden  Vanity,  Golden  Victorie,  e,  falls 
in  with  a  French  galley,  which  a  cabin-boy 
undertakes  to  sink  for  a  reward.  The  reward 
is  to  be,  a,  b,  an  estate  in  the  North  Country; 
o,  half  the  captain's  lands  in  the  South  Coun- 
try, meat  and  fee,  and  the  captain's  eldest 
daughter ;  e,  gold  and  fee,  and  the  captain's 
daughter.  The  boy  is  rolled  up  in  a  bull- 
skin  and  thrown  over  the  deck-board  (a  cor- 
ruption, see  C).  He  takes  out  an  instrument, 
and  bores  thirty  holes  at  twice,  a ;  a  gimlet. 


and  bores  sixty  holes  and  thrice,  b ;  he  struck 
her  with  an  instrument,  bored  thirty  holes 
at  twice,  c ;  threescore  holes  he  scuttled  in  a 
trice,  d. ;  struck  her  wi  an  auger,  thirty  three 
and  thrice,  e.  After  sinking  the  galley  he 
calls  to  the  Golden  Vanity  to  throw  him  a 
rope,  take  him  on  board,  and  be  as  good  as 
their  word,  all  which  is  refused.  He  threat- 
ens to  serve  them  as  he  has  the  galley,  a,  b, 
d ;  they  take  him  up  and  prove  better  than 
their  word,  a,  d,  or  as  good,  b.  (Of  f  very 
little  was  remembered  by  Scott,  and  the  bal- 
lad was  besides  confounded  with '  The  George 
Aloe.'*) 

C.  The  distinguishing  feature  is  that  the 
boy  dies  after  he  is  taken  up  from  the  water, 
and  is  sewed  up  in  a  cow's  hide  and  thrown 
overboard,  '  to  go  down  with  the  tide.'  The 
Golden  Vanity,  a-d,  The  Gold  Pinnatree,  e. 
The  Golden  Trinitie,  g,  is  in  danger  from  a 
Turkish  galleon,  a,  f ,  g,  a  Spanish,  b,  c  (pirate 
Targalley),  d,  French,  e.  The  captain  of  the 
English  ship  promises  the  cabin-boy  gold,  fee, 
and  daughter,  if  he  will  sink  the  enemy.  The 
boy  has,  and  uses,  an  auger,  to  bore  two  holes 
at  twice,  a,  that  bores  twenty  holes  in  twice, 
b,  to  bore  two  holes  at  once,  c ;  a  case  of  in- 
struments, ca's  fifty  holes  and  drives  them  a' 
at  once,  e ;  an  instrument,  and  bores  nine  holes 
in  her  water-sluice,  f ;  an  auger  fitted  for  the 
use,  and  bores  in  her  bottom  a  watery  sluice,  g. 
The  master  will  not  take  him  on  board,  will 
kill  him,  shoot  him,  sink  him,  a-d ;  will  not 
keep  his  bargain,  '  for  as  you  've  done  to  her, 
so  would  you  do  to  me,'  e  (compare  the  threat 
in  B  13).  The  boy  is  taken  up  by  his  mess- 
mates and  dies  on  the  deck,  a,  c,  d;  is  sewed 
in  a  cow-hide  and  thrown  overboard,  a,  c-g ; 
in  b  sinks  from  exhaustion  and  drowns. 


fi 


A- 


t 


Pepys  Ballads,  IV,  196,  No  189. 


Sir  Walter  Rawleigh  has  built  a  ship, 

In  the  Neather-lands 
And  it  is  called  The  Sweet  Trinity, 
1  Sib  Walter  Rawleigh  has  bmlt  a  ship,  And  was  taken  by  the  false  gallaly. 

In  the  Neatherlands  Sailing  in  the  Low-lands 

*  Scott  says  at  the  end, "  I  will  not  swear  to  the  accuracy  of  the  above." 


286.    THE  SWEET  TRINITY   (THE  GOLDEN   VANITY) 


137 


(.) 


[,) 


2  '  Is  there  never  a  seaman  bold 

In  the  Neather-lands 
Is  there  never  a  seaman  bold 

In  the  Neather-lands 
That  will  go  take  this  false  gallaly, 
And  to  redeem  The  Sweet  Trinity  ? ' 

Sailing,  etc. 

3  Then  spoke  the  little  ship-boy  ; 

In  the  Neather-lands 
Then  spoke  the  little  ship-boy  ; 

In  the  Neather-lands 
*  Master,  master,  what  will  you  give  me 
And  I  will  take  this  false  gallaly, 
And  release  The  Sweet  Trinity  ? ' 

Sailing,  etc. 


4  *I  '11   give   thee   gold,   and    I  'le  give   thee 
/-v)  fee, 

.  In  the  Neather-lands 

^      I  '11  give  thee  gold  and  I  'le  give  thee  fee, 

In  the  Neather-lands 
And  my  eldest  daughter  thy  wife  shall  be.' 

Sailing,  etc. 

5  He  set  his  breast,  and  away  he  did  swim, 
UntU  he  came  to  the  false  gallaly. 

6  He  had  an  augor  fit  for  the  [n]once, 

The  which  will  bore  fifteen  good  holes  at  once. 


7  Some  ware  at  cards,  and  some  at  dice,. 
UntU  the  salt  water  flashd  in  their  eyes. 

8  Some  cut  their  hats,  and  some  cut  their  caps, 
For  to  stop  the  salt-water  gaps. 

9  He  set  his  breast,  and  away  did  swim. 
Until  he  came  to  his  own  ship  again. 

10  '  I  have  done  the  work  I  promised  to  do,         ^     . 
For  I  have  sunk  the  false  gallaly, 

And  released  The  Sweet  Trinity. 

11  '  You  promised  me  gold,  and  you  promised  me 

fee. 
Your  eldest  daughter  my  wife  she  must  be.' 

12  '  You  shall  have  gold,  and  you  shall  have  fee, 
But  my  eldest  daughter  your  wife  shall  never 

be.' 
For  sailing,  etc. 

13  '  Then  fare  you  well,  you  cozening  lord, 
Seeing  you  are  not  so  good  as  your  word.' 

For  sailing,  etc. 

14  And  thus  I  shall  conclude  my  song, 

Of  the  saihng  in  the  Low-lands 
Wishing  all  happiness  to  all  seamen  both  old 
and  young. 
In  their  sailing  in  the  Low-lands 


a.  Logan's  Pedlar's  Pack,  p.  42,  as  sung  abont  1840  by 
Mr  P.  S.  Fraser,  of  Edinburgh,  and  obtained  by  him  orally. 
b.  As  sung  by  Mr  George  Du  Maurier  to  Mr  J.  R.  Lowell, 
1884.  c.  Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  420;  from  Mr  John  Cle- 
land,  marble-cutter,  Glasgow,  who  had  it  of  Mr  Forrester, 
Stirling,  d.  Communicated  by  Mrs  Moncrieff,  as  taught 
to  a  relative  of  hers  by  an  old  Scottish  lady  about  1830. 
e.  Findlay  MSS,  I,  161,  "from  Strang,  Divinity  Student, 
1868."  f.  Sharpe's  Ballad  Book,  1880,  p.  160,  note  by  Sir 
"Walter  Scott. 

1  Thebe  was  a  gallant  ship,  and  a  gallant  ship 
was  she 
Eck  iddle  du,  and  the  Lowlands  low 
^  "*- )      And  she  was  called  The  Goulden  Vanitie. 
As  she  sailed  to  the  Lowlands  low 

VOL.    V.  18 


H 


2  She  had  not  sailed  a  league,  a  league  but  only 

three, 
Eck,  etc. 
"When  she  came  up  with  a  French  gallee. 
As  she  sailed,  etc. 

3  Out  spoke  the  little  cabin-boy,  out  spoke  he  ; 

'  What  will  you  give  me  if  I  sink  that  French 
gallee  ? ' 
As  ye  saU,  etc. 

4  Out  spoke  the  captain,  out  spoke  he  ; 

'  We  '11  gie  ye  an  estate  in  the  North  Countrie.' 
As  we  sail,  etc. 


138 


286.    THE  SWEET  TRINITY   (THE  GOLDEN  VANITY) 


5  '  Then  row  me  up  ticht  in  a  black  bull's  skin, 
And  throw  me  oer  deck-buird,  sink  I  or  swim.' 

As  ye  sail,  etc. 

6  So  they  've  rowed  him  up  ticht  in  a  black  bull's 

skin, 
And  have  thrown  him  oer  deck-buird,  sink  he 
or  soom. 
As  they  sail,  etc. 

7  About,  and  about,  and  about  went  he, 
Until  he  cam  up  with  the  French  gallee. 

As  they  sailed,  etc. 

8  O  some  were  playing  cards,  and   some  were 

playing  dice, 
When  he  took  out  an  instrument,  bored  thirty 
holes  at  twice. 
As  they  sailed,  etc. 

9  Then   some   they  ran  with  cloaks,  and  some 

they  ran  with  caps. 
To  try  if  they  could  stap  the  saut-water  draps. 
As  they  sailed,  etc. 


10  About,  and  about,  and  about  went  he. 
Until  he  cam  back  to  The  Goulden  Vanitie. 

As  they  sailed,  etc. 

11  '  Now  throw  me  oer  a  rope  and  pu  me  up  on 

buird. 
And  prove  unto  me  as  guid  as  your  word.' 
As  ye  sail,  etc. 

12  *  We  'U  no  throw  you  oer  a  rope,  nor  pu  you  up 

on  buird. 
Nor  prove  unto  you  as  guid  as  our  word.' 
As  we  sail,  etc. 

13  Out  spoke  the  little  cabin-boy,  out  spoke  he  ; 
Then   hang  me,   I  '11  sink  ye  as  I  sunk  the 

French  gallee. 
As  ye  sail,  etc. 

14  But  they  've  thrown  him  oer  a  rope,  and  have 

pu'd  him  up  on  buird, 
And   have   proved   unto  him  far  better  than 
their  word. 
As  they  sailed,  etc. 


H 


7^ 


Y 


a.  Stall-copy,  Pitts,  Seven  Dials,  Logan's  Pedlar's  Pack, 
p.  45.  b.  Long's  Dictionary  of  the  Isle  of  Wight  Dialect, 
p.  145.  c.  Christie,  Traditional  Ballad  Airs,  I,  238,  com- 
pounded from  the  recitation  of  an  old  woman  of  Buckie, 
Banffshire,  and  a  chap-book  copy.  d.  Baring-Gould  and 
Sheppard,  Songs  of  the  West,  No  64,  Part  III,  p.  24,  Part 
rV,  p.  xxxi,  taken  down  from  James  Olver,  Launceston  (an 
improved  copy),  e.  Buchan's  MSS,  II,  390, 414.  f .  Mother- 
well's MS.,  p.  392,  and  Note-Book,  p.  50,  from  the  recitation 
of  Agnes  Lyle,  24th  August,  1825.  g.  Macmath  MS.,  p.  80, 
from  the  recitation  of  Miss  Agnes  Macmath,  1893;  learned 
at  Airds  of  Kells,  Kirkcudbrightshire. 

1  '  I  HAVE  a  ship  in  the  North  Countrie, 

And   she   goes  by  the  name  of   The  Grolden 

Vanity ; 
I  'm  afraid  she  will  be  taken  by  some  Turkish 
gallee. 
As  she  sails  on  the  Low  Lands  Low.' 

2  Then  up  starts  oiir  little  cabin-boy, 

Saying,  Master,  what  will  you  give  me  if  I  do 

them  destroy  ? 
'  I  wiU  give  you  gold,  I  will  give  you  store, 


You  shall  have  my  daughter  when  I  return  on 
shore. 
If  ye  sink  them  in  the  Low  Lands  Low.' 

3  The  boy  bent  his  breast  and  away  he  jumpt  in ; 
He  swam  till  he  came  to  this  Turkish  galleon, 

As  she  laid  on  the  Low  Lands  Low. 

4  The  boy  he  had  an  auger  to  bore  holes  two  at 

twice ; 
While   some  were   playing  cards,  and   some 

were  playing  dice, 
He  let  the  water  in,  and  it  dazzled  in  their  eyes. 
And  he  sunk  them  in  the  Low  Lands  Low. 

6  The  boy  he  bent  his  breast  and  away  he  swam 
_  back  again, 

Saying,  Master  take  me  up,  or  I  shall  be  slain, 
For  I  have  sunk  them  in  the  Low  Lands 
Low. 

6  '  I  '11  not  take  you  up,'  the  master  he  cried ; 
i-j  '  I  'U  not  take  you  up,'  the  master  replied ; 


286.    THE  SWEET  TRINITY   (THE  GOLDEN  VANITY) 


139 


*  I  will  kill  you,  I  will  shoot  you,  I  will  send 
you  with  the  tide, 
I  will  sink  you  in  the  Low  Lands  Low.' 

7  The  boy  he  swam  round  all  by  the  starboard- 
^'  side; 


They  laid  him  on  the  deck,  and  it 's  there  he 

soon  died ; 
Then  they  sewed  him  up  in  an  old  cow's-hide. 
And  they  threw  him  overboard,  to  go  down 

with  the  tide, 
And  they  sunk  him  in  the  Low  Lands  Low. 


A.  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  sailing  in  the  Low-lands  : 
Shewing  how  the  famous  ship  called  The 
Sweet  Trinity  was  taken  by  a  false  gaUy, 
and  how  it  was  again  restored  by  the  craft 
of  a  little  sea-boy,  who  sunk  the  galley  :  as 
the  following  song  will  declare.  To  the 
N  tune  of  The  Sailing  of  the  Low-land. 

(End.)  This  may  be  printed.  R.  L.  S.  (Sir  R. 
L'Estrange  was  licenser  from  1663  to  1685.) 

Printed  for  J.  Conyers  at  the  Black- Raven,  the 
first  shop  in  Fetter-Lane  next  Holborn.  (J. 
Conyers,  1682-91.     Chappell.) 

a.  7^.  at  somt  dice. 
\b}  a.  8^  Oh. 

b.  The  variations  are  but  trifling. 

7.  And  awa,  and  awa,  and  awa  swam  he, 

Till  he  swam  up  to. 
8'.  He  just  took  out  a  gimlet  and  bored  sixty 

holes  and  thrice. 
9'.  But  they  couldna  run  awa  from  the  salt- 
water drops. 
10.  Then  awa,  and  awa,  and  awa  swam  he, 

Till  he  swam  back  to. 
121.  I 'Una:  rope,  I 'Una. 
12*.  I  '11  na :  imto  thee :  my  word. 
13.  An  ye  na  throw  me  oer  a  rope  an  ye  na 
pull  me  up  aboard, 
I  '11  just  sink  ye. 
14*^.  And  they  proved  unto   him   as  good  as 
their  word. 

c.  1  There  was  an  auncient  ship,  and  an  auncient 

ship  was  she, 
l^  Eee  eedle_ee,  in  the  Lowlands  so  low 

(-7,1      And  the  name  of  the  ship  was  The  Golden 
Vanitie. 
As  she  sailed  from  the  Lowlands  so  low 

2  She  had  not  sailed  a  league,  no,  not  a  league 

but  three, 
Until  that  shee  spied  a  French  galley. 

3  *  It 's  master,  O  master,  what  '11  ye  gie  me, 
If  I  go  and  sink  yon  French  galley  ?  ' 


4  O  then  said  the  master,  I  will  gie  till  ye 
The  half  of  my  lands  in  the  South  Countrie. 

5  *  It 's  I  '11  gie  ye  meat,  and  I  '11  gie  ye  fee, 
And  my  eldest  daughter  your  bride  for  to  be.* 

6  '  It 's  wrap  me  up  tight  in  a  gude  bull's-skin, 
And    throw  me  over  deck-board,   sink  I  or 

swim.' 

7  So  they  wrapt  him  tight  in  a  gude  bull's-skin, 
And  they  've  thrown  him  over  deck-board,  sink 

he  or  swim. 

8  And  about,  and  about,  and  about  went  he. 
Until  that  he  came  to  the  French  galley. 

9  It 's  some  were  playing  at  cards,  and  some  were 

playing  at  dice, 
But  he  struck  her  with  an  instrument,  bored 
thirty  holes  at  twice. 

10  Some  ran  wi  hats,  and  some  ran  wi  caps, 
All  for  to  stop  the  salt-waters  draps. 
As  they,  etc. 

31,  41,  oh,  Oh. 

d.  1  There  was  an  ancient  ship,  and  an  ancient  ship 

was  she, 
Italy  and  the  Lowlands  low 
And  her  name  it  was  The  Golden  Vanity. 
As  she  sailed  for  the  Lowlands  low 

2  She  had  not  sailed  a  mile,  a  mile  but  barely 

three. 
When  she  hove  in  sight  of  a  French  galley, 

3  Up  spak  the  prentice-boy;  What'll  ye  gie  me. 
If  I  gang  and  sink  yon  French  galley? 

As  she  sails,  etc. 

4  Up  spak  the  captain;  What  'U  I  gie  ye. 

As  she  sails,  etc. 

5  forgotten. 


H 


140 


286.    THE  SWEET  TRINITY   (THE  GOLDEN  VANITY) 


8 


*It  's  row  me  up  in  a  tough  buU's-skin, 
And  throw  me  overboard,  let  me  sink  or  swim.' 
As  we  sail,  etc. 

They  've  rowed  him  up  tight  in  a  tough  buU's- 

skin, 
And  they  've  thrown  him  overboard,  let  him  sink 

or  swim. 
As  they  sailed,  etc. 

Then  about,  and  about,  and  about  went  he, 
Until  that  he  reached  that  French  galley. 
As  she  sailed,  etc. 


;o 


11 


12 


13 


e.  1 


C^ 


6  They  wrapt  him  up  tight  in  tough  bull-hide, 
An  to  sink  or  swim  they  pitchd  him  ower  the 

side, 
As  they  sailed,  etc. 

7  He  swam,  an  he  swam,  an  he  better  swam, 
Until  he  to  the  French  galley  cam. 

As  she  sailed,  etc. 

8  O  some  were  playin  cards,  an  some  were  playin 
dice. 

But  he  struck  her  wi  an  auger  thirty  three  and 
thrice. 
As  she  sailed,  etc. 

9  Aboot,  an  aboot,  an  aboot  went  she, 
Until  she  cam  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 

As  she  sailed,  etc. 

f.  Sir  Walter  Scott's  recollections  here  seem  not  trust- 
worthy, and  of  this  he  was  himself  aware. 

1  The  George-a-Low  eame  down  the  strait, 
Hey  low  and  the  Lowlands  so  low 
And  she  will  be  lost,  both  vessel  and  freight, 
For  the  chasing  of  a  French  galerie  O 

5  'Row  me  in  a  good  bull-skin, 
And  fling  me  overboard,    for   to   sink  or  to 

swim,' 
For  the  sinking  of  yon  French  galerie  O 

6  They  row  him,  etc. 

8  Some  were  playing  at  cards  and  dice, 
When  the  sea  came  gushing  in  a  trice. 
For  the  sinking,  etc. 

O  she  was  an  English  ship,  an  an  English  ship      cJ  b.  1  Our^ship  she  was  called  The  Golden  Vanitie  ; 
— "  "^"  ^^""^  We  had  sailed  from  our  port  about  miles  fifty- 

i*  three. 

When  up  came  with  us  a  Spanish  gallee, 
To  sink  us  in  the  Lowlands  low. 


And  three-score  holes  he  scuttled  in  a  trice. 
As  she  sailed,  etc. 

*  Now  throw  me  owre  a  rope  and  pull  me  up  on 

board. 
And  prove  unto  me  as  gude  as  yere  word.' 
As  we  sail,  etc. 

'  I  '11  not  throw  ye  owre  a  rope,  nor  pull  ye  up 

on  board, 
Nor  prove  unto  ye  as  guid  as  my  word.' 
As  we  sail,  etc. 

*  Throw  me  owre  a  rope  and  pull  me  up  on 

board, 
Or  I  '11  do  to  ye  as  I  did  the  French  galley.' 
As  she  sailed,  etc. 

Then  they  threw  him  owre  a  rope  and  pulled 

him  up  on  board. 
And  proved  unto  him  far  better  than  their  word. 
As  they  sailed,  etc. 


if- 


was  she, 

Hey  diddie  dee  for  the  Lowlands  low 
And  her  name  it  was  The  Golden  Victorie, 
As  she  sailed  for  the  Lowlands  low. 


> 


And  she  fell  in  wi  a  French  galea. 
As  she  sailed,  etc. 

'  0  what  '11  ye  gie  me,  captain,  what  '11  ye  gie  me, 
If  I  go  an  sink  yon  French  galee  ?  ' 
As  she  sails,  etc. 

*  O  I  '11  gie  thee  goud,  an  I  '11  gie  thee  fee, 
An  my  eldest  daughter  your  wife  shall  be.' 

As  we  sail,  etc. 

*  Then  wrap  me  up  tight  in  tough  bull-hide, 
An  to  sink  or  swim  ye  '11  pitch  me  ower  the  side.' 

As  we  sail,  etc. 


2  Our  master  wrung  his  hands,  but  our  little 

cabin-boy 
Said,  What  will  you  give  me,  master,  if  I  do 

them  destroy  ? 
*0h  I  will  give  you  gold,  and  my  daughter  too, 

with  joy, 
If  you  sink  them,'  etc. 

3  The  boy  gave  a  nod,  and  then  jumped  into 

the  sea. 
And  he  swam  till  he  came  to  the   Spanish 

gallee ; 
He  climbed  up   aboard,  and  below  to  work 

went  he. 
To  sink  them,  etc. 


286.    THE  SWEET  TRINITY  (THE  GOLDEN  VANITY) 


141 


4  For  this  boy  he  had  an  auger  that  bored 

twenty  holes  in  twice, 
And  while   some  were    playing  cards,   and 

some  were  playing  dice, 
Through  the  bottom  of  the  ship  he  bored  it 

in  a  trice, 
•  And  he  sunk  them,  etc. 

5  The  galley  she  went  down,  but  the  boy  swam 

back  again, 
Crying,  Master,  pick  me  up,  or  I  shall  soon 

be  slain  ; 
Pray  heave  to  me  a  rope,  or  I  shall  sink  in 

the  main  ; 
For  I  've  sunk  them,  etc. 

6  *  I  will   not  pick  you  up,'  the  master  loudly 

cried, 
*  I  will  not  heave  a  rope,'  the  master  he  replied; 
*I  will  kill  you,  I  will  sink  you,  I  will  leave 

you  in  the  tide, 
I  will  sink  you,'  etc. 

7  The  boy  he  swam  around  the  ship  from  side 

to  side. 
But  he  could  not  get  aboard,  so  he  sank,  and 

he  died. 
And  they  left  him  where  he  was,  to  go  down 

with  the  tide  ; 
So  they  sunk  him,  etc. 

c.  1    There  was  a  good  ship  from  the  North  Coun- 

trie,  , 

Sailing  low  in  the  Lowlands  low 
(p        There  was,  etc. 
^■3/     And  that  ship's  name  was  The*  Golden  Van- 

Sailing  low  in  the  Lowlands,  low  in  the  sea, 
Sailing  low  in  the  Lowlands  low 

The  master  said,  I  fear  for  my  good  ship 
Vanity, 

Oh,  I  fear  for  my  good  ship.  The  Golden 
Vanity, 

That  she  will  be  taken  by  the  pu-ate  Tar- 
galley, 

As  she  sails  in,  etc. 

22  *  Oh,  master,  good  master,  what  will  you  give  me 
If  1  sink  yon  Targalley  low  in  the  sea? ' 

10  stanzas. 

d.  1  A  ship  I  have^ot  in  the  North  Country, 

And  she  goes  by  the   name  of   The  Golden 
q  Vanity ; 

O  I  fear  she  '11  be  taken  by  a  Spanish  Galalie, 
As  she  sails  by  the  Lowlands  low. 

8  stanzas. 


e.  Buchan ;  MSS,  U,  390. 

1  Our  ship  sailed  to  the  North  Country, 

Sing,  How  the  Lowlands  lo[w] 
Our  ship  sailed  on  to  the  North  Countrie, 
And  the  name  o  her  was  The  Gold  Pinnatree, 
She  was  as  fine  a  vessel  as  ever  sailed  the  sea, 

And  she  sails  by  the  Lowlands  lo[w] 

2  We  hadna  sailed  leagues  but  only  three, 

Till  the  captain  from  the  maindeck  fixed  an  ee  ; 
He  spied  a  lofty  frigate  was  sailing  closely  tee, 
And  her  name  was  The  French  Gallic. 

8  Then  out  it  speaks  the  pilot,  by  the  mainyard 
did  stand. 
Says,  O  my  pretty  boys,  we  are  all  undone  ; 
We  must  prepare  to  fight  or  be  sunk  to  the  sand, 
For  yonder  comes  the  French  gallio. 

4  Then  spoke  the  little  cabin-boy,  [where  stood 

he,] 
Said,  O  my  loving  master,  what  will  ye  gie  me 
And  I  will  sink  this  proud  Gallio  in  the  sea. 
And  I  will  sink  the  French  gallio? 

5  *  I  will  gie  you  gold,  boy,  and  I  will  gie  you  fee, 
Besides  a  rarer  gift  that  I  will  give  thee  ; 

Ye  *se  have  my  eldest  daughter  your  wedded 
wife  to  be. 
If  ye  will  sink  the  French  gallio.' 

6  The  boy  bent  his  breast,  and  away  swam  he. 
And  took  a  bold  venture  thro  the  stormy  sea, 
And  cam  close  by  his  enemy,  as  sly  as  he  could 

be. 
It  was  to  sink  the  French  gallio. 

7  Some  there  were  at  cards,  and  some  there  were 

at  dice, 
But  the  little  cabin-boy  was  at  the  best  device, 
He  was  sinking  the  French  gallio  in  the  sea. 
He  was  sinking  the  French  gallio. 

8  This  boy  had  a  case  o  fine  instruments. 

He  ca'd  fifty  holes,  and  drove  them  a'  at  once, 
And  he  soon  sank  the  French  gallio  in  the  sea, 
And  he  soon  sank  the  French  gallio. 

9  Then  the  boy  bent  his  breast,  and  back  swam  he, 
Till  that  he  cam  to  The  Gold  Pinnatree  ; 
Says,  Now,  my  loving  master,  what  will  ye  gie 

me? 
For  I  have  sunk  the  French  gallio. 

10  'Now  give  to  me  my  gold,  master,  [give  to  me 
my  fee,] 
Or  give  to  me  the  other  rare  gifts  ye  promised 
me  ; 


^3/ 


142 


286.    THE  SWEET  TRINITY   (THE  GOLDEN  VANITY) 


It  was  your  eldest  daughter,  my  wedded  wife  to 
be; 
For  the  sinking  o  the  French  gallio.* 

11  *  Ye  shall  have  no  gold,  boy,  ye  shall  have  no 

fee; 
I  wadna  ware  my  daughter  on  ony  such  as 

thee; 
For  as  you've  done  to  her,  boy,  so  wad  you  do  to 

me, 
By  the  sinking  o  the  French  [gallio].' 

12  Then  they  put  out  their  long-boat  and  catched 

him  by  the  side, 
And  rowed  him  into  ane  auld  cow's-hide. 
And  tossed  him  overboard,  to  float  on  the  tide, 
For  sinking  the  French  gallio. 

Gallio  may  he  surmised  to  he  properly  galley  O. 

The  other  copy  in,  Buchan's  MSS,  II,  414,  is  only 
the  foregoing  a  little  retouched  or  regulated.  It 
has  throughout  Gallolee /or  Gallio.  The  first  line 
of  the  burden  is,  Sing,  Low,  the  Lowlands  low. 

4^.  where  stood  he.     6  8.  could  dee. 

10^.  give  to  me  my  fee. 

f.  1  I  spied  a  ship,  and  a  ship  was  she, 

Sing,  Oh,  the  low  and  the  Lowlands  low 
And  she  was  called  the  Turkish  Galley, 

She  was  sailing  in  the  Lowlands,  low,  low, 

low, 
She  was  sailing  in  the  Lowlands  low. 

2  '  Master,  master,  what  wud  ye  gie  me 
Gin  I  wud  sink  yon  Turkish  galley  ? 

She  's  sailing,  etc' 

3  *  I  '11  gie  you  gold,  I  '11  gie  you  fee. 
Gin  ye  wud  sink  yon  Turkish  galley, 

That  is  sailing,'  etc. 

4  He  bent  his  breast,  and  awa  swam  he, 
Till  he  cam  to  yon  Turkish  galley, 

That 's  sailing,  etc. 

5  He  had  an  instrument,  made  for  the  use, 
He  bored  nine  holes  in  her  water-sluice, 

Left  her  sinking,  etc. 

6  Some  took  their  hats,  and  some  took  their  caps, 
All  for  to  stop  her  watery  leaks. 

She  was  sinking,  etc. 

7  They  took  him  up  by  their  ship-side, 
They  sewed  him  in  an  auld  cow's-hide, 

Left  him  sinking,  etc. 


Motherwell  sent  this  copy  to  C.  K.  Sharpe  in  a  letter 
dated  October  8,  1825,  in  which  he  says:  1  also 
send  rather  a  curious  song,  which  perchance 
you  may  have  seen,  entitled  *  The  Turkish  Gal- 
ley,' the  air  of  which  pleased  me  much.  But  as  v 
I  learn  there  are  two  other  different  sets  of  the 
words  more  complete  than  my  copy,  and  with 
different  airs,  I  shall  defer  sending  the  musick 
till  I  can  send  also  that  which  belongs  to  the 
other  copies. 

g.  1  There  was  a  ship  of  the  North  Countrie, 

And  the  name  of  the  ship  was  The  Golden 
Trinitie. 
*^  ^    She  was  sailing  in  the  Lowlands  low,  low, 
L  low. 

She  was  sailing  in  the  Lowlands  low. 


And  the  name  of  the  ship  was  The  Turkish 
Gallee, 
And  she  was  sailing  in  the  Lowlands  low* 

low,  low, 
She  was  sailing,  etc. 

3  '  O  captain,  O  captain,'  said  the  young  cabin- 

boy, 
*  What  will  you  give  me  if  yon  ship  I  do  de- 
stroy? 
And  sink  her  in,'  etc. 

4  '  I  '11  give  you  gold,  and  I  '11  give  you  fee, 
And  my  eldest  daughter  your  wedded  wife  shall 

be. 
If  you  sink  her  in,'  etc. 

5  The  boy  bent  his  bow,  and  away  swam  he. 
Until  that  he  came  to  the  Turkish  gallee. 

She  was  sailing  in,  etc. 

6  The  boy  had  an  auger,  right  fitted  for  the  use, 
And  into  her  bottom  he  bored  a  watery  sluice. 

She  is  sinking  in,  etc. 

7  The  boy  bent  his  bow,  and  back  swam  he. 
Until  that  he  came  to  the  Golden  Trinitie. 

She  is  sailing  in,  etc. 

8  '  O  captain,  O  captain,  take  me  on  board, 
And  O  be  as  good,  as  good  as  your  word, 

For  I  've  sunk  her  in  the  Lowlands  low,  low, 

low, 
I've  sunk,'  etc. 

9  They  threw  him  a  rope  oer  the  larboard  side, 
And  sewed  him  up  in  an  auld  cow's-hide, 
And  threw  him  out  to  a  fair  wind  and  tide, 

And  sunk  him  in,  etc. 


aST.    CAPTAIN  WARD  AND  THE  RAINBOW 


143 


287 
CAPTAIN  WARD  AND  THE  RAINBOW 

Bagford  Ballads,  1, 65. 


Other  black-letter  copies  are  Pepys,  IV, 
202,  No  195  ;  Roxburghe,  III,  56 ;  Euing,  No 
108 ;  British  Museum,  112.  f.  44  (19).  This 
copy  is  printed  in  Halliwell's  Early  Naval 
Ballads,  p.  59,  Bell's  Early  Ballads,  p.  167, 
Ebsworth's  Roxburghe  Ballads,  VI,  426. 

There  are  Aldermary  Churchyard  copies, 
as  Roxburghe  Ballads,  III,  652,  861 ;  Scottish 
stall-copies,  as  Greenock,  W.  Scott,  Stirling, 
M.  Randall ;  English,  by  Pitts,  Seven  Dials, 
one  of  which  is  printed  in  Logan's  Pedlar's 
Pack,  p.  1. 

A  copy  in  Buchan's  MSS,  II,  245,  is 
nearly  the  old  broadside ;  another,  II,  417, 
is  the  stall-copy.  Kinloch,  MSS,  V,  109,  II, 
265,  has  the  stall-copy  from  oral  transmission 
(-with  Weir  for  Ward).  Rev.  S.  Baring-Gould 
has  recently  taken  down  this  ballad  (much 
changed  by  tradition)  in  the  west  of  England. 

Captain  Ward,  a  famous  rover,  wishes  to 
make  his  peace  with  the  king,  and  offers 
thirty  ton  of  gold  as  "ransom"  for  himself 
and  his  men.  The  king  will  not  trust  a  man 
who  has  proved  false  to  France  and  to  Spain, 
and  sends  the  Rainbow,  with  five  hundred 
men,  against  Ward.  The  Rainbow  has  easy 
work  with  Dutch,  Spaniards,  and  French,  but 
her  fifty  brass  pieces  have  no  effect  on  Ward ; 
though  the  Rainbow  is  brass  without,  he  is 
steel  within,  8^  (suggested  by  '  Sir  Andrew 
Barton,'  A  27^,  B  25^, '  He  is  brass  within  and 
steel  without).'  The  Rainbow  retires,  and  re- 
ports to  the  king  that  Ward  is  too  strong  to 


be  taken.  The  king  laments  that  he  has  lost 
three  captains,  any  one  of  whom  would  have 
brought  Ward  in  :  George  Clifford,  Earl  of 
Cumberland,  ■|-1605,  Charles  Blount,  Lord 
Mount  joy,  11606  (both  of  whom  had  a  part  in 
the  defeat  of  the  Armada),  and  Robert  De- 
vereux.  Earl  of  Essex,  f  1601. 

The  Rainbow  was  the  name  of  one  of 
Drake's  four  ships  in  his  expedition  against 
Cadiz  in  1587.  The  Rainbow  is  mentioned 
very  often  from  1589 ;  as  in  The  Manuscripts 
of  the  Earl  Cowper,  vol.  i.  Hist.  MSS  Com- 
mission, Xllth  Report,  Appendix,  Part  I; 
Index  in  Part  III  of  the  same,  p.  296. 

John  Ward,  an  Englishman  of  Kent,  is  said 
to  have  commenced  '  rover '  about  1604,  by 
inducing  the  crew  of  a  king's  ship  in  which 
he  had  some  place  to  turn  pirates  under  his 
command.  His  race,  though  eventful,  was, 
naturally  enough,  not  long.  He  seems  not  to 
be  heard  of  after  1609,  in  which  year  Ward 
and  his  colleague,  Dansekar,  are  spoken  of  as 
the  "  two  late  famous  pirates."  See  Mr  Ebs- 
worth's preface  to  the  ballad,  VI,  423  ff., 
founded  on  Andrew  Barker's  book  about 
Ward  and  Dansekar,  published  in  the  year 
last  named. 

Two  other  ballad-histories,  *  The  Seamen's 
Song  of  Captain  Ward  '  and  *  The  Seamen's 
Song  of  Dansekar'  (i.  e.  Dansekar  and  Ward), 
entered  in  the  Stationers'  Registers  July  3, 
1609,  are  given  by  Mr  Ebsworth,  VI,  784, 
423. 


v^ 


v^ 


144 


28T.    CAPTAIN  WARD  AND  THE  RAINBOW 


1  Strike  up,  you  lusty  gallants,  with  musick 

and  sound  of  drum. 
For  we  have  descryed  a  rover,  upon  the  sea  is 

come ; 
His  name  is  Captain  Ward,  right  well  it  doth 

appear, 
There  has  not  been  such  a  rover  found  out  this 

thousand  year. 

2  For  he  hath  sent  unto  our  king,  the  sixth  of 

January, 
Desiring  that  he  might  come  in,  with  all  his 
company : 

*  And  if  your  king  will  let  me  come  tiU  I  my 

tale  have  told, 
I  will  bestow  for  my  ransome  full  thirty  tun  of 
gold.' 

3  '  0  nay !  O  nay ! '   then   said   our  king,  '  O 

nay  !  this  may  not  be. 
To  yield  to  such  a  rover  my  self  will  not  agree  ; 
He  hath  deceivd  the  French-man,  likewise  the 

King  of  Spain, 
And  how  can  he  be  true  to  me  that  hath  been 

false  to  twain  ?  ' 

4  With  that  our  king  provided  a  ship  of  worthy 

fame, 

Eainbow  she  is  called,  if  you  would  know  her 
name  ; 

Now  the  gallant  Rainbow  she  rowes  upon  the 
sea, 

Five  hundred  gallant  seamen  to  bear  her  com- 
pany. 

5  The  Dutch-man  and  the  Spaniard  she  made 

them  for  to  flye. 
Also  the  bonny  French-man,  as  she  met  him  on 

the  sea : 
When  as  this  gallant  Rainbow  did  come  where 

Ward  did  lye, 

*  Where  is  the  captain  of  this  ship  ?  '  this  gal- 

lant Rainbow  did  cry. 

6  *  O  that  am  I,'  says  Captain  Ward,  '  there 's 

no  man  bids  me  lye. 
And  if  thou  art  the  king's  fair  ship,  thou  art 
welcome  unto  me  : ' 

*  I  'le  tell  thee  what,'  says  Rainbow,  '  our  king 

is  in  great  grief 
That  thou  shouldst  lye  upon  the  sea  and  play 
the  arrant  thief, 


7  '  And  will  not  let  our  merchants  ships  pass  as 

they  did  before ; 
Such   ty dings   to   our    king   is   come,   which 

grieves  his  heart  full  sore.' 
With  that  this  gallant  Rainbow  she  shot,  out  of 

her  pride. 
Full  fifty  gallant  brass  pieces,  charged  on  every 

side. 

8  And  yet  these  gallant  shooters  prevailed  not  a 

pin, 
Though  they  were  brass  on  the  out-side,  brave 

Ward  was  steel  within ; 
'  Shoot   on,   shoot   on,'    says   Captain   Ward, 

'  your  sport  weU  pleaseth  me. 
And  he  that  first  gives  over  shall  yield  unto 

the  sea. 

9  '  I  never  wrongd  an  English  ship,  but  Turk 

and  King  of  Spain, 
For  and  the  jovial  Dutch-man  as  I  met  on  the 

main. 
If  I  had  known  your  king  but  one  two  years 

before, 
I  would  have   savd  brave  Essex  life,  whose 

death  did  grieve  me  sore. 

10  '  Go  tell  the  King  of  England,  go  tell  him  thus 

from  me. 
If  he  reign  king  of  all  the  land,  I  will  reign 

king  at  sea.' 
With  that  the  gallant  Rainbow  shot,  and  shot, 

and  shot  in  vain, 
And  left  the  rover's  company,  and   returnd 

home  again. 

11  '  Our  royal  king  of  England,  your  ship  's  re- 

turnd again, 
For  Ward's  ship  is  so  strong  it  never  will  be 

tane: ' 
'  O  everlasting ! '  says  our  king,  '  I  have  lost 

jewels  three. 
Which  would  have  gone  unto  the  seas  and 

brought  proud  Ward  to  me.      , 

12  '  The  first  was  Lord  CHfford,  Earl  of  Cumber- 

land ; 
The  second  was  the  lord   Mountjoy,  as  you 

shall  understand ; 
The  third  was  brave  Essex,  from  field  would 

never  flee ; 


288.    THE  YOUNG  EARL  OF  ESSEX'S  VICTORY  OVER  THE  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY       145 


Which  would  a  gone  unto  the  seas  and  brought 
proud  Ward  to  me.* 

The  Famous  Sea- Fight  between  Captain  Ward 
and  the  Rainbow.     To  the  tune  of  Captain 
^  Ward,  etc.     Licensed  and  entered. 

London,  Printed  by  and  for  W.  Onley,  and  are 


to  be  sold  by  the  Booksellers  of  Pye-corner 
and  London-bridge.  Dated  at  the  British 
Museum  1680  at  the  earliest. 
11*.  Everlasting  shame,  in  the  Scottish  stall- 
copies. 
A  collation  of  Raxhurghe,  III,  56,  shows  only 
variations  too  trivial  to  note. 


288 

THE  YOUNG  EARL  OF  ESSEX'S  VICTORY  OVER  THE 
EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY 


A.  *  Queen    Elizabeth's   Champion,    or,    Great    Bri- 
tain's Glory,'  etc.    a.  Douce  Ballads,  III,  fol.  80  b. 


b.  Roxburgbe,  III,  416,  in  Ebsworth's  Roxbm-ghe 
Ballads,  VI,  405. 


B.  '  Earl  of  Essex  ',  Kinloch  MSS,  I,  113. 


A  is  printed  also  m  Evans's  Old  Ballads, 
1777,  II,  110,  with  slight  variations  from  both 
Douce  and  Roxburghe. 

No  printer's  name  is  given  in  either  copy 
of  A.  From  the  use  of  a  peculiar  ornament 
between  the  columns  in  a  (and  perhaps  in  b), 
such  as  occurs  in  ballads  printed  at  Newcastle- 
upon-Tyne,  by  John  White,  the  broadside  may 
plausibly  be  attributed  to  him.  White  died 
in  1769. 

A.  Queen  Elizabeth  fits  out  a  powerful 
fleet  to  go  in  search  of  a  vast  navy  under  com- 
mand of  the  emperor  of  Germany.  The  fleets 
sight  each  other  after  a  week  or  ten  days. 
The  emperor,  amazed  at  the  splendid  show 
made  by  the  English,  asks  his  oflBcers  who 
this  can  be  that  is  sailing  toward  him,  and  is 
told  that  it  is  the  young  Earl  (third  earl)  of 
Essex,  the  queen's  lieutenant.  The  emperor 
has  heard  enough  of  the  father  to  make  him 
fear  a  fight  with  the  son,  and  proposes  to  tack 
and  sail  away ;  but  the  son  asks  his  father  to 
put  the  ships  into  his  hands  and  let  him  fight 
with  Essex.     The  emperor  consents  with  a 

VOL.   V.  19 


warning;  if  the  young  Essex  shall  prove 
like  his  father,  farewell  to  their  honor.  Young 
Essex  takes  the  emperor's  son  prisoner ;  the 
emperor  offers  as  a  ransom  three  keys  of  gold, 
one  of  which  shall  be  the  key  of  High  Ger- 
many. Essex  cares  not  for  the  three  keys ; 
the  emperor's  son  must  go  to  England  and 
be  exhibited  to  the  queen.  The  emperor 
declares  that,  if  it  must  be  so,  his  fifty  good 
ships  shall  go  as  well  for  company. 

All  this  is,  no  doubt,  as  foolish  as  it  is  fic- 
titious, but  the  ballad-maker's  independence, 
in  fact  unconsciousness,  of  history  and  com- 
mon sense,  beginning  with  the  title,  in  which 
young  Essex  is  made  Queen  Elizabeth's  cham- 
pion, is  amusing  and  not  unpleasing.  The 
ballad  belongs  undoubtedly  to  the  eighteenth 
century,  when  High  Germany  had  become 
familiar  to  the  humble  English. 

B.  The  traditional  copy  begins  with  a  pro- 
logue of  half  a  dozen  stanzas  in  the  form  of 
a  colloquy  between  Billy,  who  is  to  be  of  the 
expedition,  and  Nelly,  his  sweetheart.  This 
prologue  must  be  derived  from  some  other 


146     288.    THE  YOUNG  EARL  OF  ESSEX'S  VICTORY  OVER  THE  EMPEROR  OP  GERMANY 


ballad  or  song.  Nelly  reminds  her  lover  of 
the  fate  of  old  Benbow,  who  lost  at  least  one 
of  his  legs  in  a  fight  with  a  French  fleet  in 
1702,  and  died  of  the  consequences,  and  of 
that  of  "  proud  Shawfield,  that  honoured 
knight,"  under  which  name  is  disguised  Sir 


Cloudesley  Shovell,  "  who  came  with  his  navy 
to  the  Spanish  shore"  in  1705,  and  whose 
ship  went  on  the  rocks  ofE  the  Scilly  Isles 
(* Salem'),  and  sank  with  all  on  board,  some 
eight  hundred  men,  in  1707.  We  then  make 
connection  with  the  broadside. 


a.  Douce  Ballads,  III,  fol.  80  b.    b.  Roxburghe,  HI,  416, 
in  Ebsworth's  Roxburghe  Ballads,  VI,  405. 

1  Come,  sound  up  your  trumpets  and  beat  up 

your  drums, 
And  let 's   go  to  sea  with  a  valiant  good 
cheer, 
In  search  of  a  mighty  vast  navy  of  ships. 
The  like  has  not  been  for  these  fifty  long 
year. 

Raderer  two,  tandaro  te, 
Raderer,  tandorer,  tan  do  re. 

2  The  queen  she  provided  a  navy  of  ships, 

"With  sweet  flying  streamers,  so  glorious  to 
see, 
Rich  top  and  top-gallants,  captains  and  lieu- 
tenants. 

Some  forty,   some  fifty,   brass-pieces    and 
three. 

3  They  had  not  saild  past  a  week  on  the  seas. 

Not  passing  a  week  and  days  two  or  three. 
But  they  were  aware  of  the  proud  emperor, 
Both  him  and  all  his  proud  company. 

4  When  he  beheld  our  powerful  fleet. 

Sailing  along  in  their  glory  and  pride, 
He  was  amazed  at  their  valour  and  fame, 
Then  to  his  warUke  command[er]s  he  cry'd. 

5  These  were  the  words  of  the  old  emperor : 

Pray  who  is  this  that  is  saiHng  to  me  ? 
If  he  be  king  that  weareth  a  crown. 
Yet  I  am  a  better  man  than  he. 

6  '  It  is  not  a  king,  nor  lord  of  a  crown, 

Which  now  to  the  seas  with  his  navy  is  come, 
But  the   young  Earl  of  Essex,  the  Queen's 
lieutenant, 
Who  fears  no  foes  in  Christendom.* 


7  '  Oh !  is  that  lord  then  come  to  the  seas  ? 

Let  us  tack  about  and  be  steering  away ; 
I  have  heard  so  much  of  his  father  before 
That  I  will  not  fight  with  young  Essex  to- 
day.' 

8  0  then  bespoke  the  emperor's  son. 

As  they  were  tacking  and  steering  away, 
*  Give  me,  royal  father,  this  navy  of  s[h]ips. 
And  I  will  go  fight  with  Essex  today.' 

9  '  Take  them  with  all  my  heart,  loving  son. 

Most  of  them  are  of  a  capital  size  ; 
But  should  he  do  as  his  father  has  done, 
Farewel  thine  honour  and  mine  likewise.' 

10  With  cannons  hot  and  thundering  shot. 

These  two  gallants  fought  on  the  main, 
And  as  it  was  young  Essex's  lot. 
The  emperor's  son  by  him  was  taen. 

11  '  Give  me  my  son,'  the  emperor  cry'd, 

'Who    you    this    day    have     taken    from 
me, 
And  I  '11  give  to  the[e]  three  keys  of  gold, 
The  one  shall  be  of  High  Germany.' 

12  '  I  care  not  for  thy  three  keys  of  gold. 

Which    thou    hast    profferd    to    set    him 
free, 
But  thy  son  he  shall  to  England  sail, 
And  go  before  the  queen  with  me.' 

13  '  Then  have  I  fifty  good  ships  of  the  best, 

As  good  as  ever  were  sent  to  the  sea, 
And  eer  my  son  into  England  sail. 
They  shall  go  all  for  good  company.' 

14  They  had  not  fought  this  famous  battle. 

They  had  not  fought  it  hours  three, 

But  some  lost  legs,  and  some  lost  arms. 

And  some  lay  tumbUng  in  the  sea. 


288.  THE  YOUNG  EARL  OP  ESSEX'S  VICTORY  OVER  THE  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY   147 


15  Essex  he  got  this  battle  likewise, 

Tho  't  was  the  hotest  that  ever  was  seen ; 
Home  he  returnd  with  a  wonderful  prize, 
And  brought  the  emperor's  son  to  the  queen. 


16  O  then  bespoke  the  prentices  all, 

Living  in  London,  both  proper  and  tall, 
In  a  kind  letter,  sent  straight  to  the  queen, 
For  Essex's  sake  they  would  fight  all. 


Kinloch  MSS,  I,  113.     From  Mary  Barr,  June,  1827. 

1  *  'T  IS,  old  England,  old  England,  I  bid  thee 

adieu. 
The  drums  and  the  trumpets  command  me 
f rae  shore ; 
And  you  lusty  fellows,  both  valiant  and  true, 
Will  you  venture  with  me  where  loud  can- 
nons roar  ? ' 

2  '  O  Billy,  0  Billy,  talk  not  of  the  seas, 

But  stay  at  home  with  me  on  the  shore ; 
I  '11  do  my  endeavour  thy  fancy  to  please. 
And  there's  others  to  go  where  loud  can- 
nons roar.' 

3  *  O  Nelly,  O  Nelly,  I  must  to  the  seas, 

For  there  is  no  gold  to  be  had  upon  shore ; 
There 's  honour,  and  gold,  and  riches  likewise, 
To  the  man  that  doth  die  where  loud  can- 
nons roar.' 

4  *  Remember  the  winds,  love,   remember  the 

waves, 

Remember  the  dangers  that  are  upon  seas ; 
Remember  there  is  neither  coffin  nor  grave 

To  the  man  that  doth  die  where  loud  can- 
nons roar.' 

5  '  Remember  old   Benbow,  and  think  on  his 

blows ; 
Remember  the  dangers  he  felt  upon  seas ; 
He  lost  both  his  legs  by  one  shot  of  his  foes  ; 
He  lost  his  sweet  life,  yet  his  honour  's  the 

more.' 

6  'Remember  proud  Shawfield,  that  honoured 

knight. 
Who  came  with  his  navy  to  the  Spanish 

shore ; 
At  the  rock  of  Salem  his  life  took  a  flight, 
And  with  him  there  died  some  hundreds 

more.' 


7  *  Our  queen  she  has  builded  a  navy  of  ships, 

And  they  are  arrayed  all  right  gloriously ; 
With  top  and  top-gallant,  with  captain,  lieu- 
tenant, 

Some  fifty,  some   sixty,  brass  pieces  and 
three.' 

8  '  Well,  since  you  '11  go,  may  my  blessing  ad- 

vance. 
And   carry  you  safely  from   Flanders  to 

Spain ; 
And  when  you've  conquered  that  tyrant  in 

France, 
Then  my  blessing  return  you  to  old  England 

again.' 

9  They  had  not  sailed  one  hour  upon  sea, 

Not  one  hour  passing  days  two  or  three, 
Till  up  came  the  bold  emperour, 

The  bold  emperour  of  High  Germanie. 

10  *  O  who  is  this  ? '  the  bold  emperour  cries, 

'  Who  is  this  that  comes  sailing  to  me  ? 
I  'm  sure  he 's  a  knight,  or  a  king  of  crown. 
Or  I  'm  sure  I  am  a  far  better  fellow  than 
he.' 

11  'I  am  neither  a  knight,  nor   a  king  of   a 

crown. 
But  here,  with  my  navy,  on  board  I   am 

come ; 
For  I  am  Lord  Essex,  the  Queen's  lieutenant. 
Who  never  feard  foe  in  all  Christendom.' 

12  Out  and  spoke  the  bold  emperour's  son, 

All    as    they  were   mounting    and    hyeing 
away; 
*  O  father,  lend  me  your  navy  of  ships. 
And  I  '11  go  fight  with  Lord  Essex  today.' 

13  *  O  son,  I  '11  lend  thee  my  navy  of  ships. 

And  they  are  all  of  a  capable  size ; 
But  if  he  be  as  good  as  his  old  father  was, 
Adieu  to  your  honour,  and  mine  likewise.' 


"JX^ 


148 


289.     THE   MERMAID 


14  O  they  have  fought  on  at  a  terrible  rate, 

Until  it  drew, nigh  to  the  cool  of  the  day, 
And  as  it  fell  in  young  Essex's  lot, 

The  bold  emperour's  son  he 's  taen  prisoner 
away. 

15  '  0  give  me  my  son,'  the  bold  emperour  cried, 

'  O  give  me  my  son  thou  hast  taken  from 
me, 
And  you  shall  have  three  keys  of  gold, 
And  one  of  them  opens  High  Germanie.' 

16  '  What  value  I  thy  three  keys  of  gold, 

Or  any  proud  offer  thou  canst  give  to  me  ? 
For  up  to  old  England  thy  son  he  must  go. 
And  stand  before  our  queen's  high  majesty.* 

17  "T  is  I  have  fifteen  ships  of  the  best. 

And  other  fifteen  distant  on  sea ; 


A. 


Since  up  to  old  England  my  son  he  must  go. 
Then  we  '11  all  go  together  for  good  compa- 
nie.' 


a.    Queen   Elizabeth's    Champion,    or.    Great 
Britain's  Glory,  Being  a  victory  obtained  by 
the  young  Earl  of  Essex  over  the  old  em- 
peror of  Germany  by  a  fight  at  sea  in  which 
he  took  the  emperor's  son  and  brought  him 
a  prisoner  to  Queen  Elizabeth. 
omits  Being  after  Glory  and  a  before  prisoner. 
.  Burden  ran  do  re  in  second  line  after  stanza 
1.     tandato   in  first   line   after  stanza  2. 
Rederer,  after  7.     Raderer  two  for  Raderer 
in  second  line  after  9. 
1*.  years.     8^.  Oh. 
.  1^  gallant  good.     1*.  for  this. 
4*.  commanders.     5*.  Praying.     5'.  be  a. 
\A?.  hours  but. 


289 
THE  MERMAID 


A.  '  The  Seamen's  Distress,'  the  second  piece  in  The  D.  *  The  Mermaid.'  a.  Long,  Dictionary  of  the  Isle  of 
Glasgow  Lasses  Garland,  British  Museum,  11621.  c.  Wight  Dialect,  1886,  p.  42.  b.  Broadside,  H.  Such, 
3  (68).  "Newcastle,  1765?  "  177  Union  St.,  Boro'. 

B.  a.  '  The  stormy  winds  do  blow,'  Chappell's  Popu-  E.  a.  Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  145.  b.  *  The  Bonnie 
lar  Music  of  the  Olden  Time,  p.  742.  b.  The  same,  Mermaid,'  Motherwell's  Minstrelsy,  Appendix,  p. 
p.  743.    c.  Notes  and  Queries,  6th  Series,  VII,  276.  xxiii,  No  XXX,  one  stanza. 

C.  Communicated  by  Mr  Chappell.    Now  printed  in  P.  *  Greenland,'  Kinloch  MSS,  VII,  245. 
Old  English  Ditties,  Oxenford  and  Macfarren,  '  The 

Mermaid,'  I,  206. 


This  is  the  ballad  referred  to  under  '  Sir 
Patrick  Spens,'  II,  19.  It  is  still  common  as 
a  broadside. 

B  a  6  has  taken  a  burlesque  turn.  It  is 
scarcely  worth  while  to  attempt  to  account 
for  the  vagaries  of  F,  in  which  '  the  kemp  o 
the  ship '  takes  the  place  of  the  mermaid,  and 
the  kaim  and  glass  are  exchanged  for  the 
bottle  and  glass.  The  first  stanza  of  F  may 
not  belong  here,  or  possibly  (but  not  probably) 


a  voyage  to  Greenland  may  have  been  lost 
from  the  other  copies. 

In  B,  C,  D,  the  ship  sails  on  Friday,  against 
all  good  rules. 

'  The  Sailor's  Caution,'  the  third  piece  in 
The  Sailing  Trade,  Glasgow,  Printed  by  J. 
and  M.  Robertson,  Saltmarket,  1801,  begins 
like  A,  has  a  stanza  (the  fifth)  representing 
A  4, 6,  and  concludes  thus,  after  a  stanza  (the 
sixth)  resembling  A  3  : 


289.    THE  MERMAID 


149 


The  mermaid  on  the  rock  doth  sit, 
With  comb  and  glass  in  hand : 

'  Cheer  up,  cheer  up,  bold  mariners. 
You  are  not  far  from  land. 

*  So  now  cheer  up,  bold  mariners, 
Or  smother  in  the  deep  ; 


All  this  I  do  for  a  sailor's  sake, 
Whilst  losing  of  my  sleep. 

*  Here  is  a  token,  bold  mariners, 

A  token  of  good  will. 
And  if  ever  that  you  come  this  way, 

'  Tis  here  you  '11  find  me  still.' 

British  Museum,  11621.  b.  13  (16). 


The  Glasgow  Lasses  Garland,  the  second  piece,  British 
Museum,  11621.  c.  3  (68).  "Newcastle,  1765  ?  " 

1  As  we  lay  musing  in  our  beds, 

So  well  and  so  warm  at  ease, 
I  thought  upon  those  lodging-beds 
Poor  seamen  have  at  seas. 

2  Last  Easter  day,  in  the  morning  fair, 

We  was  not  far  from  land. 
Where  we  spied  a  mermaid  on  the  rock, 
With  comb  and  glass  in  hand. 

3  The  first  came  up  the  mate  of  our  ship. 

With  lead  and  line  in  hand. 
To  sound  and  see  how  deep  we  was 
From  any  rock  or  sand. 

4  The  next  came  up  the  boatswain  of  our  ship. 

With  courage  stout  and  bold  : 
'  Stand  fast,  stand  fast,  my  brave  lively  lads, 
Stand  fast,  my  brave  hearts  of  gold ! ' 

5  Our  gallant  ship  is  gone  to  wreck. 

Which  was  so  lately  trimmd ; 
The  raging  seas  has  sprung  a  leak, 
And  the  salt  water  does  run  in. 

6  Our  gold  and  silver,  and  all  our  cloths, 

And  all  that  ever  we  had. 
We  forced  was  to  heave  them  overboard, 
Thinking  our  lives  to  save. 

7  In  all,  the  number  that  was  on  board 

Was  five  hundred  and  sixty-four. 
And  all  that  ever  came  alive  on  shore 
There  was  but  poor  ninety-five. 


8  The  first  bespoke  the  captain  of  our  ship, 

And  a  well-spoke  man  was  he ; 
'  I  have  a  wife  in  fair  Plymouth  town. 
And  a  widow  I  fear  she  must  be.' 

9  The  next  bespoke  the  mate  of  our  ship, 

And  a  well-bespoke  man  was  he ; 
'  I  have  a  wife  in  fair  Portsmouth, 
And  a  widow  I  fear  she  must  be.' 

10  The  next  bespoke  the  boatswain  of  our  ship, 

And  a  well-bespoke  man  was  he  ; 
'  I  have  a  wife  in  fair  Exeter, 

And  a  widow  I  fear  she  must  be.' 

11  The  next  bespoke  the  little  cabbin-boy, 

And  a  well-bespoke  boy  was  he  ; 
'  I  am  as  sorry  for  my  mother  dear 
As  you  are  for  your  wives  all  three. 

12  '  Last  night,  when  the  moon  shin'd  bright. 

My  mother  had  sons  five. 
But  now  she  may  look  in  the  salt  seas 
And  find  but  one  alive.' 

13  '  Call  a  boat,  call  a  boat,  you  little  Plymouth 

boys. 
Don't  you  hear  how  the  trumpet[s]  sound  ? 
[For]  the  want  of  our  boat  our  gallant  ship  is 
lost. 
And  the  most  of  our  merry  men  is  drownd.' 


14  Whilst  the  raging  seas  do  roar. 
And  the  lofty  winds  do  blow. 
And  we  poor  seamen  do  lie  on  the  top, 
Whilst  the  landmen  lies  below. 


7  J  iAj\X 


150 


289.    THE  MERMAID 


B 


a.  Chappell's  Popular  Music  of  the  Olden  Time,  p.  742. 
b.  The  same,  p.  743,  one  stanza  and  the  burden,  contributed 
bj  Mr  Charles  Sloman,  in  1840.  c.  Notes  and  Queries,  6th 
Series,  VII,  276,  communicated  from  memory  by  Mr  Thomas 
Bayne,  Helensburgh,  N.  B,,  stanzas  1,  6. 

One  Friday  morn  when  we  set  sail, 

Not  very  far  from  land, 
"We  there  did  espy  a  fair  pretty  maid 

With  a  comb  and  a  glass  in  her  hand,  her 

hand,  her  hand. 
With  a  comb  and  a  glass  in  her  hand. 
While  the  raging  seas  did  roar. 

And  the  stormy  winds  did  blow, 
While  we  jolly  sailor-boys  were  up  into 
the  top, 
And  the  land-lubbers  lying  down  below, 

below,  below. 
And  the  land-lubbers  lying  down  below. 

Then  up  starts  the  captain  of  our  gallant  ship. 
And  a  brave  young  man  was  he : 

*  I  've  a  wife  and  a  child  in  fair  Bristol  town. 
But  a  widow  I  fear  she  will  be.' 
For  the  raging  seas,  etc. 


3  Then  up  starts  the  mate  of  our  gallant  ship. 

And  a  bold  young  man  was  he : 
'  Oh !  I  have  a  wife  in  fair  Portsmouth  town. 
But  a  widow  I  fear  she  will  be.' 
For  the  raging  seas,  etc. 

4  Then  up  starts  the  cook  of  our  gallant  ship, 

And  a  gruff  old  soul  was  he : 

*  Oh !  I  have  a  wife  in  fair  Plymouth  town, 

But  a  widow  I  fear  she  will  be.' 

5  And  then  up  spoke  the  little  cabin-boy. 

And  a  pretty  little  boy  was  he ; 

*  Oh !  I  am  more  grievd  for  my  daddy  and  my 

mammy 
Than  you  for  your  wives  all  three.' 

6  Then   three  times   round   went    our    gallant 

ship, 
And  three  times  round  went  she  ; 
For  the  want   of   a  life-boat  they  all  went 

down, 
And  she  sank  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 


Communicated  by  Mr  W.  Chappell,  as  noted  down  by 
him  from  the  singing  of  men  dressed  as  sailors,  on  Tower 
Hill.  Subsequently  printed,  with  a  few  variations,  in  Old 
English  Ditties,  Oxenford  and  Macfarren,  I,  206. 

1  One  Friday  morn  as  we  'd  set  sail, 

And  our  ship  not  far  from  land, 

We  there  did  espy  a  fair  mermaid. 

With  a  comb  and  a  glass  in  her  hand,  her 

hand,  her  hand, 
With  a  comb  and  a  glass  in  her  hand. 
While  the  raging  seas  did  roar, 

And  the  stormy  winds  did  blow. 
And  we  jolly  sailor-boys  were  up,  up  aloft. 
And  the  landsmen  were  lying  down  be- 
low, 
And  the  landlubbers  all  down  below, 

below,  below. 
And  the  landlubbers  all  down  below. 


2  Then  up  spoke  the  captain  of   our  gallant 

ship. 
Who  at  once  did  our  peril  see  ; 
I  have  married  a  wife  in  fair  London  town. 
And  tonight  she  a  widow  will  be.' 

3  And  then  up  spoke  the  litel  cabin-boy, 

And  a  fair-haired  boy  was  he ; 
'  I  've  a  father  and  mother  in  fair  Portsmouth 
town. 
And  this  night  she  will  weep  for  me.' 

4  Now  three    times    round    goes    our    gallant 

ship. 
And  three  times  round  went  she  ; 
For  the  want  of   a  life -boat  they  all  were 

drownd. 
As  she  went  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 


289.     THE  MERMAID 


151 


a.  Long,  A  Dictionary  of  the  Isle  of  "Wight  Dialect,  Lon- 
don, 1886,  p.  142.     b.  H.  Such,  177  Union  St.,  Boro'. 

1  '  T  WAS  a  Friday  morning  when  we  set  sail, 

And  our  ship  was  not  far  from  land, 
When  there  we  spied  a  fair  pretty  maid, 
With  a  comb  and  a  glass  in  her  hand. 
Oh,  the  raging  seas  they  did  roar. 

And  the  stormy  winds  they  did  blow. 
While  we  poor  sailor-boys  were  aU  up  aloft, 
And  the  land-lubbers  lying  down  below, 

below,  below, 
And  the  land-lubbers  lying  down  below. 

2  Then  up  spoke  the  captain  of  our  gallant  ship, 

And  a  mariner  good  was  he  ; 
'  I  have  married  a  wife  in  fair  London  town, 
And  this  night  a  widow  she'  will  be.' 


3  Then  up  spoke  the  cabin-boy  of  our  gallant 

ship, 
And  a  brave  little  boy  was  he  ; 
*  I  've  a  father  and  a  mother  in  old  Portsmouth 

town. 
And  this  night  they  will  both  weep  for  me.' 

4  Then  up  spoke  a  seaman  of  our  gallant  ship. 

And  a  well-spoken  man  was  he  ; 
'For  want  of  a  long-boat  we  shall   all  be 
drowned, 
And  shall  sink  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea.' 

6  Then  three  times  round  went  that  gallant  ship. 
And  down  like  a  stone  sank  she  ; 
The  moon  shone  bright,  and  the  stars  gave 
their  light, 
But  they  were  all  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 


E 


a.  Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  145.   b.  Motherwell's  Minstrelsy, 
Appendix,  p.  xxiii.  No  XXX,  the  first  stanza. 

1  Up  and  spoke  the  bonny  mermaid, 

Wi  the  comb  and  the  glass  in  her  hand  ; 
Says,  Cheer  up  your  hearts,  my  mariners  all. 
You  are  not  very  far  from  the  land. 
And  the  raging  seas  do  foam,  foam. 

And  the  stormy  winds  do  blow, 
While  we  poor  sailors  must  mount  to  the 
top. 
When  the  landsmen  they  lye  low. 

2  Out  and  spoke  the  captain  of  our  ship. 

And  a  fine  little  man  was  he  ; 
'  O  I  've  a  wife  in  fair  London  town. 
And  a  widow  this  night  she  shall  be.' 


3  Out  and  spoke  the  mate  of  our  ship. 

And  a  tight  little  man  was  he ; 

*  O  I  've  a  wife  in  Dublin  city, 

And  a  widow  this  night  she  shall  be.' 

4  Out  and  spoke  our  second  mate, 

And  a  clever  little  man  was  he ; 
'  Oh  I  have  a  wife  in  Greenock  town, 
And  a  widow  this  night  she  shall  be.' 

5  Out  and  spoke  our  little  prentice  boy. 

And  a  fine  little  boy  was  he ; 

*  Oh  I  am  sorry  for  my  mother,'  he  said, 

'  As  you  are  for  your  wives  all  three.' 

6  Out  and  spoke  the  cook  of  our  ship. 

And  a  rusty  old  dog  was  he ; 
Says,  I  am  as  sorry  for  my  pats  and  my  pans 
As  you  are  for  your  wives  all  three. 


Kinloch  MSS,  VIT,  245.  From  the  recitation  of  a  little 
boy  from  Glasgow,  who  sang  it  in  Grove  St.,  Edinburgh, 
July,  1826. 

« 
i-  Pi     1  GBEENiiAND,  Greenland,   is   a   bonny,  bonny 
'       \  place. 


Whare  there  's  neither  grief  nor  flowr, 


Whare  there 's  neither  grief  nor  tier  to  be  seen, 
But  hills  and  frost  and  snow. 

2  Up  starts  the  kemp  o  the  ship, 
Wi  a  psalm-book  in  his  hand  : 
*  Swoom  away,  swoom  away,  my  merry  old 
boys, 
For  you  'U  never  see  dry  land.' 


162 


289.     THE   MERMAID 


3  Up  starts  the  gaucy  cook, 

And  a  well  gaucy  cook  was  he  ; 
'  I  wad  na  gie  aw  my  pans  and  my  kettles 
For  aw  the  lords  in  the  sea.' 

4  Up  starts  the  kemp  o  the  ship, 

Wi  a  bottle  and  a  glass  intil  his  hand ; 


'Swoom   away,  swoom  away,  my  merry  old 
sailors, 
For  you  '11  never  see  dry  land.' 

5  O  the  raging  seas  they  row,  row,  row, 
The  stormy  winds  do  blow, 
As  sune  as  he  had  gane  up  to  the  tap, 
As low. 


14^. 

142. 

b.  2^ 


A.  6'.  Qy,  that  ever  we  did  have  ? 

7^'*.  Qy,  And  in  aU,  there  was  but  poor  ninety- 
five 
That  ever  came  alive  on  shore.  ? 
Whilst  we  in  the  raging  seas  do  blow. 
And  there  lofty  minds. 

B.  b.  2}.  Then  up  spoke. 

2*'*.  I  have  sixty  gallant  seamen  aboard  of  my 
ship. 
But  none  half  so  gallant  as  he,  as  he, 

as  he. 
But  there 's  none  half  so  gallant  as  he. 
Burden : 

"While  the  vivid  lightnings  flash, 

And  the  stormy  winds  do  blow, 
While  we  poor  seamen  are  up,  up  aloft. 
And  the  landsmen  are  all  down  below, 

below,  below, 
And  the  landsmen  are  all  down  below. 
And  our  ship  not  far. 
we  all.     6^  And  sank. 
Var.,  a  fair  pretty  maid. 
In  Old  English  Ditties,  etc.  {perhaps  Oxen- 
ford^  s  changes)  : 
1^.  when  we  set.     1^.  a  fair  pretty  maid. 
2\  thlfe  night.     3*.  they  will. 
4^.  Then  three  times  round  went. 
4^.  they  both  went  down.    4*.  As  she  sunk  to. 
Burden : 

4.  And  the  land-lubbers  lying  down  below,  be- 

low, below. 

5.  And  the  landsmen  were  all  down  below. 

6.  Wanting. 

D.  b.  1  On  Friday  morning  as  we  set  sail, 
It  was  not  far  from  land, 
O  there  I  espy'd  a  fair  pretty  girl. 

With  the  comb  and  the  glass  in  her  hand. 
O  the  stormy  winds  they  did  blow. 

And  the  raging  seas  did  roar. 
While  we  poor  sailors  go  up  to  the  top. 
And  the  land-lubbers  lie  down  below. 


C.  1\ 
.     1». 


2  Then  up  spoke  a  boy  of  our  gallant  ship, 

And  a  well-spoken  boy  was  he  ; 
*  I  've  a  father  and  mother  in  fair  Ports- 
mouth town. 
And  this  night  they  will  weep  for  me.' 

3  Then  up  spoke  a  man  of  our  gallant  ship, 

And  a  well-spoken  man  was  he  ; 
'  I  have  married  a  wife  in  fair  London 
town, 
And  this  night  a  widow  she  shall  be.' 

4  Then  up  spoke  the  captain  of  our  gallant 

ship. 
And  a  valiant  man  was  he ; 
'  For  want  of  a  long-boat  we  shall  all  be 

drowned,' 
So  she  sunk  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 

5  The  moon  shone  bright,  and  the  stars  gave 

light, 
And  my  mother  is  looking  for  me ; 
She  might  look,   she  might  weep,  with 
watery  eyes, 
She  might  look  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 

A  broadside  by  Birt,  otherwise  like  Such's, 
adds  : 

Three  times  round  went  our  gallant  ship, 
And  three  times  round  went  she  ; 

Three  times  round  went  our  gallant  ship, 
Then  she  sunk  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 

British  Museum,  11621.  k.  5  (167). 

B.  b.  1.  O  up  and  spak  the  bonnie  mermaid, 

Wi  the  glass  and  the  kaim  in  her  hand; 
'  Reek  about,  reek  about,  ye  mariners  aU, 
For  ye're  not  very  far  from  the  land.' 

F.  3*.  was  she. 


290.    THE  WYLIB  WIFE   OF  THE  HIE  TOUN    HIE 


153 


290 
THE  WYLIE  WIFE  OF  THE  HIE  TOUN  HIE 

A.  '  My  lady  ye  shall  be,'  "  Scotch  Ballads,  Materials  C.  '  The  Bonnie  Lass  o  the  Hie  Toun  End.'  Communi- 
for  Border  Minstrelsy,"  Thomas  Wilkie's  MS.,  p.  74,  cated  by  Mr  David  Louden,  of  Morham,  Haddington, 
Abbotsford.  1873. 

B.  John  Struthers,  The  British  Minstrel,  1821,  I,  xxv.      D.  •  The  Flowers  of  Edinburgh,'  Gibb  MS.,  No  14,  p.  57. 


This  ballad,  which  Motherwell  pronounces 
to  be  "  of  some  antiquity  and  of  considerable 
popularity,"  is  of  the  same  pernicious  tenor 
as  '  The  Broom  o  Cowdenknows,'  with  the 
aggravation  of  treachery.  The  d^noument 
is  similar  in  '  The  Dainty  Downby,'  Herd's 
MSS,  I,  45,  printed  in  his   Scottish  Songs, 


1776,  II,  232,  'The  Laird  o  the  Dainty 
Downby,'  Kinloch  MSS,  V,  145,  and  in  '  The 
Laird  o  Keltie,'  Kinloch  MSS,  I,  363,  *  The 
Young  Laird  o  Keltie,'  III,  107,  Motherwell 
MS.,  p.  21,  both  of  one  pattern,  and  that 
quite  trashy. 


"  Scotch  Ballads,  Materials  for  Border  Minstrelsy,"  No 
72,  Thomas  Wilkie's  MS.,  1813-15,  p.  74,  Abbotsford  ; 
taken  down  from  the  recitation  of  a  female  friend,  who 
sang  it  to  a  lively  air. 

1  It  fell  about  the  Martinmas, 

When  the  gentlemen  were  drinking  there 
wine, 
And  a'  the  discourse  that  they  had 
"Was  about  the  ladies  they  gude  fine. 

2  It 's  up  an  spake  a  tall  young  man, 

The  tallest  o  the  companie  ; 
*  The  boimiest  lass  that  I  ken  off 
She  lives  into  the  hee  toun  hee. 

3*01  would  give  a  guinea  of  gold, 
A  guinea  and  a  pint  of  wine, 
I  would  give  it  to  the  hostler's  wife, 
For  to  wile  that  bonny  lassie  in.* 

4  The  hostler's  wife  gaed  down  the  stair, 
And  she 's  looked  herseU  round  near  by, 
And  there  she  spied  the  bonny  handsom  girl, 
Coming  walking  down  the  hee  town  high. 

VOL.  V.  20 


5  '  Come  in,  come  in,  my  bonny  handsom  girl. 

Come  speak  one  word  with  me ; 
Come  taste  a  little  of  our  wine, 
For  it 's  new  come  out  of  Italie/ 

6  So  willillie  she  wil'd  her  up, 

And  so  willillie  she  wil'd  her  in, 
And  so  cunningly  she  's  locked  the  door, 
And  she 's  comd  down  the  stair  again. 

7  One   of   them    took   her    by   the   milk-white 

hand, 
And  he  's  laid  her  body  on  the  ground, 
And  aye  she  sightd,  and  said,  Alass, 
'T  is  a  sin  to  do  me  wrong ! 

8  '  But  since  ye  hae  done  sae  muckle  to  me, 

And  brought  me  to  so  muckle  shame, 
O  wad  ye  be  so  kind  to  me 
As  to  tell  to  me  your  name.' 

9  *  O  if  I  tell  to  you  my  name, 

It 's  a  thing  I  never  did  to  none ; 
But  I  will  tell  to  the,  my  dear ; 
I  am  the  Earl  of  Beaton's  son.' 


154 


290.    THE  WYLIE  WIFE  OF  THE  HIE  TOUN  HIE 


10  When  two  years  were  past  and  gone, 

This  gentleman  came  walking  by, 
And  there  he  spied  the  bonny  handsome  girl, 
Coming  walking  down  the  hie  town  high. 

11  *To  whom  belongs  that  pretty  child, 

That  blinks  with  its  pretty  eye  ? ' 
*  His  father 's  from  home  and  has  left  me  alone. 
And  I  have  been  at  the  fold  milking  my  ky.' 


12  '  You  lie,  you  lie,  my  bonny  handsome  girl. 

So  loudlie  I  hear  you  lie  ; 
O  do  not  you  mind  that  happie  day 

When  ye  was  drinking  the  wine  wi  me  ? ' 

13  He  's  lighted  off  his  milk-white  steed, 

He 's  kissd  her  both  cheeck  and  chin ; 
He 's  made  a'  the  servants  in  Beaton  castle 
To  welcome  this  fair  lady  in. 


Strathers's  !British  Minstrel,  I,  xxv.,  from  recitation. 

1  It  fell  about  the  Martinmas  time, 

3  When  the  nobles  were  drinking  wine. 

And  the  matter  of  their  discourse  it  was, 
3  *  O  the  ladies  they  go  fine  : ' 

2  Up  then  spake  a  brave  gentleman, 
3  The  best  in  the  companie ; 

*  The  bonniest  lass  that  eer  I  saw, 
1  She  dwells  in  the  hie  town  hie. 


Oli 


3  '  I  wad  give  a  guinea  of  red  gold, 
Sae  wad  I  a  pint  of  wine. 

To  onie  of  the  hostler-wives 
k  That  wad  wyle  to  me  the  bonnie  lassie  in.' 

4  Up  then  spake  the  hostler's  wife, 
^  And  an  ill  death  may  she  die  ! 

*  An  ye  '11  gie  me  a  guinea  of  gold, 
h  I  will  wyle  the  bonnie  lassie  in  to  thee.' 

5  The  hostler's  wife  stood  on  the  stair-head, 
0  To  see  what  she  could  see. 

And  there  she  saw  this  fair  creature, 
H  Coming  down  f  rae  the  hie  town  hie. 

6  *  Come  in,  come  in,  my  bonnie,  bonnie  lass, 
J  Come  in  and  speak  with  me ; 

Come  in  and  drink  a  glass  of  wine, 
*t  That 's  new  come  aff  the  raging  sea.* 

7  '  My  father 's  out  upon  the  plain, 

*/  And  I  am  waiting  his  incoming  ; 

And  I  'm  a  girl  so  neat  and  trim 
V  That  I  'm  afraid  of  your  merry  men.' 

8  '  My  merry  men  are  all  gone  out, 

And  they  will  not  be  in  till  nine. 
And,  if  ye  would  my  favour  win, 
Come  in  and  drink  a  glass  of  wine.' 


9  Sae  cunningly  she  wyld  her  in. 

And  sae  cunningly  she  led  her  round. 
Till  she  wyld  her  to  the  room  where  he  was. 
And  she  locked  the  door  the  bonnie  lass 
behind. 

10  First  he  kissd  her  cherry  cheeks, 

And  than  he  kissd  her  cherry  chin. 
And  than  he  kissd  her  ruby  lips. 

Saying,  Indeed  ye  're  a  weel-f  aurd  thing. 

11  *  O  since  ye  've  got  your  will  o  me, 

And  brought  me  unto  public  shame, 
I  pray,  "kind  sir,  ye  '11  marry  me, 

Or  that  ye  '11  tell  me  what 's  your  name.' 

12  '  If  I  tell  my  name  to  you,  bonnie  lassie. 

It 's  mair  than  ever  I  telld  ane ; 
But  I  will  tell  to  you,  bonnie  lassie ; 
I  am  an  earl's  second  son. 

13  *  I  am  an  earl's  second  son. 

My  father  has  more  children  than  me ; 
My  eldest  brother  he  heirs  the  land, 
And  my  father  he  sent  me  to  the  sea.' 

14  He  put  his  hand  into  his  pocket, 

And  he  gave  her  sixty  guineas  and  three. 
Saying,  Fare    thee  weel,    my   lovely  young 
creature. 
Ye  '11  never  get  mair  of  me. 

15  As  she  went  down  through  Edinburgh  streets, 

The  bonnie  bells  as  they  did  ring, 
*  Farewell,  f  areweel,  my  bonnie,  bonnie  lassie. 
Ye  've  got  the  clod  that  winna  cling.' 


16  He  hadna  been  ae  week  at  the  sea. 
Not  a  week  but  only  five. 
Till  the  king  made  him  a  captain  sae  brave. 
And  he  made  the  bonnie  lassie  his  wife. 


290.    THE  WYLIE  WIFE  OF  THE  HIE  TOUN  HIE 


155 


in         0 

Communicated,  February,  1873,  by  Mr  David  Louden,  of 
Morham,  Haddington,  as  recited  by  Mrs  Richard  Dodds, 
Morham,  Loanhead,  "  aged  over  seventy." 

1  In"  Edinburgh,  on  a  summer  evening, 

Our  gentlemen  sat  drinking  wine. 
And  every  one  to  the  window  went, 
To  view  the  ladies,  they  went  so  fine. 

2  They  drank   the  wiae,   and   they   spilt    the 

beer, 
So  merrily  as  the  reel  went  round. 
And  a'  the  healths  that  was  drucken  there 
Was  to  the  bonnie  lass  o  the  hie  toun  end. 

3  Up  then  spoke  a  young  squire's  son, 

And  as  he  spoke  it  all  alone  ; 
'  Oh,  I  would  give  a  guinea  of  gold, 

And  so  would  I  a  pint  of  wine. 
And  I  would  make  them  their  licence  free 

That  would  welcome  this  bonnie  lassie  in.' 

4  The  ostler's  wife,  on  hearin  this. 

So  nimbly  down  the  stairs  she  ran. 
And  the  first  toun's-body  that  she  met 
Was  the  bonnie  lass  o  the  hie  toun  end. 

5  '  Mistress,  ye  maun  gang  wi  me 

And  get  a  cup  o  oor  claret  wine ; 
It 's  new  come  oer  the  ragin  sea, 
Awat  it  is  baith  gude  and  fine.' 

6  •  To  gang  wi  you  I  daurna  stay, 

My  mither  's  wearyin  for  me  in ; 


I  am  so  beautiful  and  fine 

I  am  a  prey  to  all  young  men.' 

7  Wi  sattin  slippers  on  her  feet. 

So  nimbly  up  the  stair  she  ran, 
And  wha  so  ready  as  this  young  squire 
To  welcome  the  bonny  lassie  in. 

8  He  ['s]  taen  her  by  the  milk-white  hand. 

He 's  gently  led  her  through  the  room. 
And  aye  she  sighed,  and  aye  she  said, 
It  would  be  a  pity  to  do  me  wrong. 

9  '  Now,  since  you  've  taken  your  will  o  me, 

I  pray,  kind  sir,  tell  me  your  name ; ' 
*  Oh  yes,  my  dear,  indeed,'  he  said 
'  But  it 's  more  than  I  ever  did  to  one. 

10  *  I  am  a  squire  and  a  squire's  son, 

My  faither  has  fifty  ploughs  o  land, 
And  I  'm  a  man  in  the  militrie, 

And  I  must  away  and  rank  up  my  men. 

11  *  And  Jamie  Lumsdaine  is  my  name. 

From  the  North  Countrie,  love,  I  really  came.' 

12  About  a  twelvemonth  after  that, 

He  sent  a  letter  owre  the  main. 
And  muckle  writin  was  therein, 

To  the  bonnie  lass  o  the  hie  toun  end. 

13  About  a  twelvemonth  after  that, 

He  himsel  cam  owre  the  main  ; 
He  made  her  Duchess  o  Douglas  Dale, 
And  to  him  she 's  had  a  fine  young  son. 


In        D 

Gibb  MS.,  No  14,  p.  57.    From  the  recitation  of  Eppie 
Fraser,  daughter  of  a  tramp,  and  unable  to  read,  about  1840. 

1  All  the  soldiers  in  Edinburgh  town 

Were  sitting  drinking  at  the  wine. 
An  all  the  toasts  that  were  among  them 

Was  a  health  to  the  lassie  that  goes  sae  fine. 

2  Up  then  spake  an  officier, 

The  bravest  in  the  company ; 
*  To  every  one  I  will  give  a  guinea, 

A  guinea  and  a  pint  of  wine, 
To  the  ostler's  wife  I  wald  double  it  a'. 

If  she  'd  entice  that  young  lassie  in.' 


3  The  old  wife  tripped  down  the  stair. 

And  aye  she  said,  '  A  good  morrow,  dame ! ' 
And  aye  she  said,  an  the  maid  replied, 
*  What  is  your  will  wi  me,  madam  ? ' 

4  '  It 's  not  to  do  you  any  harm. 

Or  yet  your  body  any  ill, 
But,  if  you  would  my  favour  gain. 
Come  up  an  taste  one  glass  of  wine.* 

5  *  My  father  stands  on  the  stair-head, 

Just  lookin  for  me  to  come  in ; 
I  am  so  proper  and  so  tall 

I  'm  much  afraid  of  your  merry  men.' 


166 


291.     CHILD   OWLET 


6  *  My  merry  men,  they  are  all  gone  out, 

An  they  will  not  be  in  tiU  dine ; 
So,  if  you  would  my  favour  gain, 
Gome  up  an  taste  a  glass  of  wine.' 

7  The  fail"  maid  tripped  up  the  stair. 

The  old  wife  bolted  the  door  behind ; 
He 's  tane  her  in  his  arms  twa, 
Says,  O  but  ye  are  a  bonny  thing ! 

8  Twenty  times  he  kissed  her  cheek, 

An  twenty  times  her  bonny  chin, 
An  twenty  times  her  ruby  lips : 
'  0  but  ye  are  a  bonny  thing  !  ' 


9  '  Noo,  since  ye  've  got  your  wills  o  me, 
What  is  your  name,  I  pray  you  tell ; 


where  you  dwell.' 


10 


*  My  eldest  brother,  he  heirs  the  land ; 
I  was  forced  to  be  a  highwayman. 
Or  else  a  soldier,  as  I  am.' 

11  An  aye  the  lassie  she  sat  an  grat, 

An  aye  thae  words  spak  them  atween. 
An  aye  the  lassie  she  sat  an  grat, 

And  cursed  the  auld  wife  that  brocht  her  in. 

12  They  had  na  been  in  Edinburgh 

A  month,  a  month  but  only  nine. 


When  they  have  got  the  royal  commission 
For  to  march  to  Aberdeen. 

13  An  aye  the  lassie  she  sat  an  grat, 

An  aye  thae  words  spak  them  atween, 
An  aye  the  lassie  she  sat  an  grat. 

And  cursed  the  auld  wife  that  brocht  her  in. 

14  They  had  na  been  in  Aberdeen 

A  month,  a  month  but  only  one. 
When  he  got  on  the  captain's  coat, 
An  made  her  lady  o  his  land. 

15  An  aye  the  lassie  she  sat  an  sang, 

An  aye  thae  words  spak  them  atween, 
An  aye  the  lassie  she  sat  an  sang, 

An  hersed  the  auld  wife  that  brocht  her  in. 

&..  1*.  Qy,  gade  ? 

3^.  Written  and  af  pint  gold,  with  pint  struck 

out  {anticipation  of  the  next  line), 
5*.  now  come. 
B.   Motherwell,  Minstrelsy,  p.  xci,  supplies,  from 
a  recited  version,  after  15  : 
Aye  she  sat,  and  aye  she  grat, 
And  kaimd  her  yellow  hair, 
And  aye  she  cursd  the  hostler's  wife. 

That  wysit  her  in  at  the  door. 
And  after  16 : 

Aye  she  sat,  and  aye  she  sang. 
And  kaimd  her  yellow  hair. 
And  aye  she  blessd  the  hostler's  wife. 

That  wysit  her  in  at  the  door. 
Compare  D  13,  15. 


291 

CHILD  OWLET 


'  Childe  Owlet,'  Buchan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  I,  27  ;  Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  572. 


Lady  Ebskine  invites  Child  Owlet  to  be 
her  paramour.  Child  Owlet  revolts  at  the 
suggestion ;  he  is  sister's  son  to  Lord  Ronald. 
The  lady  cuts  herself  with  a  penknife  suffi- 
ciently to  draw  blood ;  Lord  Ronald  hears 
her  moaning,  comes  in,  and  asks  what  blood 
this  is ;  his  wife  gives  him  to  understand  that 


Child  Owlet  has  offered  her  violence.  A 
council  is  held  upon  the  case,  and  the  youth 
is  condemned  to  be  torn  by  fonr  horses. 
There  was  not  a  twig  or  a  rush  on  the  moor 
that  was  not  dropping  with  his  blood. 

The  chain  of  gold  in  the  first  stanza  and 
the  penknife  below  the  bed  in  the  fourth  have 


292.    THE  WEST-COUNTRY  DAMOSEL'S  COMPLAINT 


157 


a  false  ring,  and  the  story  is  of  the  tritest. 
The  ballad  seems  at  best  to  be  a  late  one, 
and  is  perhaps   mere  imitation,  but,  for  an 


imitation,  the  last  two  stanzas  are  unusually 
successful. 


1  Lady  Erskine  sits  in  her  chamber, 

Sewing  at  her  silken  seam, 
A  chain  of  gold  for  ChUde  Owlet, 
As  he  goes  out  and  in. 

2  But  it  fell  ance  upon  a  day 

She  unto  him  did  say, 
Ye  must  cuckold  Lord  Ronald, 
For  a'  his  lands  and  ley. 

3  '  O  cease !  forbid,  madam,'  he  says, 

*  That  this  shoud  eer  be  done ! 
How  would  I  cuckold  Lord  Ronald, 

And  me  his  sister's  son  ?  ' 

4  Then  she 's  ta'en  out  a  little  penknife. 

That  lay  below  her  bed. 
Put  it  below  her  green  stay's  cord, 
Which  made  her  body  bleed. 

5  Then  in  it  came  him  Lord  Ronald, 

Hearing  his  lady's  moan ; 
'  "What  blood  is  this,  my  dear,'  he  says, 

*  That  sparks  on  the  fire-stone  ? ' 

6  '  Young  Childe  Owlet,  your  sister's  son, 

Is  now  gane  frae  my  bower ; 
If  I  hadna  been  a  good  woman, 
I'd  been  Childe  Owlet's  whore.' 


7  Then  he  has  taen  him  Childe  Owlet, 

Laid  him  in  prison  strong, 
And  all  his  men  a  council  held 
How  they  woud  work  him  wrong. 

8  Some  said  they  woud  Childe  Owlet  hang, 

Some  said  they  woud  him  burn  ; 
Some  said  they  woud  have  Childe  Owlet 
Between  wild  horses  torn. 

9  '  There  are  horses  in  your  stables  stand 

Can  run  right  speedihe, 
And  ye  will  to  your  stable  go. 
And  wile  out  four  for  me.' 

10  They  put  a  foal  to  Uka  foot. 

And  ane  to  ilka  hand, 
And  sent  them  down  to  Darling  mair, 
As  fast  as  they  coud  gang. 

11  There  was  not  a  kow  in  Darling  muir. 

Nor  ae  piece  o  a  rind. 
But  drappit  o  Childe  Owlet's  blude 
And  pieces  o  his  skin. 

12  There  was  not  a  kow  in  Darhng  muir. 

Nor  ae  piece  o  a  rash, 
But  drappit  o  Childe  Owlet's  blude 
And  pieces  o  his  flesh. 


292 

THE  WEST-COUNTRY  DAMOSEL'S  COMPLAINT 

a.  Douce  Ballads,  II,  fol.  254  b ;  Roxburghe  Ballads,  II,  499,  Ebsworth,  VI,  635.    b.  Douce  Ballads,  II,  245  b. 


Also,  Crawford  Ballads,  No  1331,  Euing, 
384.  All  the  five  :  Printed  for  P.  Brooksby, 
at  the  Golden-Ball  in'  West-Smithfield,  neer 
the  Hospital-gate.     (1672-95.) 

A  maid  entreats  her  lover,  William,  to 
marry  her  or  put  an  end  to  her  life.     He  un- 


feelingly bids  her  go  to  the  wood  and  live  on 
hips  and  haws.  She  leads  this  life  for  three 
months;  then,  exhausted  with  the  hardship, 
goes  to  her  sister's  house  and  begs  an  alms  of 
food.  The  sister  (who  is  her  rival,  st.  18) 
orders  her  men  to  hunt  away  the  wild  doe, 


158 


292.    THE  WEST-COUNTRY  DAMOSEL'S  COMPLAINT 


and  they  drive  her  back  to,  the  forest,  where 
she  lies  down  and  dies.  Sweet  William  comes, 
stands  at  her  head  and  her  feet,  kisses  her, 
gives  vent  to  his  repentance  and  admiration 
in  intense  and  elaborate  expressions,  then  lies 
down  by  ber  side  and  dies. 

The  first  eleven  stanzas  are  in  a  fairly  pop- 


ular tone.  It  will  be  observed  that  the  first 
and  third  verses  rhyme  in  12-24,  but  not  in 
1-11.  The  whole  may  be  one  man's  work, 
who  may  have  thought  that  an  elegy  should 
properly  be  more  artificial,  both  in  form  and 
in  style,  than  a  story,  but  I  incline  to  tbink 
that  the  lament  is  a  later  attachment. 


1  '  When  will  you  marry  me,  William, 

And  make  me  your  wedded  wife  ? 
Or  take  you  your  keen  bright  sword 
And  rid  me  out  of  my  life.' 

2  '  Say  no  more  so  then,  lady, 

Say  you  no  more  then  so, 
For  you  shall  into  the  wild  forrest, 
And  amongst  the  buck  and  doe. 

3  '  Where  thou  shalt  eat  of  the  hips  and  haws. 

And  the  roots  that  are  so  sweet, 
And  thou  shalt  drink  of  the  cold  water. 
That  runs  underneath  [thy]  feet.' 

4  Now  she  had  not  been  in  the  wild  forrest 

Passing  three  months  and  a  day 
But  with  hunger  and  cold  she  had  her  fill, 
Till  she  was  quite  worn  away. 

5  At  last  she  saw  a  fair  tyl'd-house, 

And  there  she  swore  by  the  rood 
That  she  would  to  that  fair  tyl'd-house, 
There  for  to  get  her  some  food. 

6  But  when  she  came  unto  the  gates, 

Aloud,  aloud  she  cry'd. 
An  alms,  an  alms,  my  own  sister ! 
I  ask  you  for  no  pride. 

7  Her  sister  calld  up  her  merry  men  all, 

By  one,  by  two,  and  by  three, 
And  bid  them  hunt  away  that  wild  doe, 
As  far  as  ere  they  could  see. 

8  They  hunted  her  ore  hiU  and  dale. 

And  they  hunted  her  so  sore 
That  they  hunted  her  into  the  forrest, 
Where  her  sorrows  grew  more  and  more. 

9  She  laid  a  stone  all  at  her  head, 

And  another  all  at  her  feet. 


And  down  she  lay  between  these  two, 
Till  death  had  lulld  her  asleep. 

10  When  sweet  Will  came  and  stood  at  her  head, 

And  likewise  stood  at  her  feet, 
A  thousand  times  he  kist  he[r]  cold  lips, 
Her  body  being  fast  asleep. 

11  Yea,  seaven  times  he  stood  at  her  feet, 

And  seaven  times  at  her  head, 
A  thousand  times  he  shook  her  hand. 
Although  her  body  was  dead. 

12  *  Ah  wretched  me  ! '  he  loudly  cry'd, 

*  What  is  it  that  I  have  done  ? 
O  woud  to  the  powers  above  I  'de  dy'd, 
When  thus  I  left  her  alone  I 

13  *  Come,  come,  you  gentle  red-breast  now, 

And  prepare  for  us  a  tomb, 
Whilst  unto  cruel  Death  I  bow, 
And  sing  like  a  swan  my  doom. 

14  ♦  Why  could  I  ever  cruel  be 

Unto  so  fair  a  creature? 
Alas !  she  dy'd  for  love  of  me, 
The  loveliest  she  in  nature ! 

15  *  For  me  she  left  her  home  so  fair 

To  wander  in  this  wild  grove, 
And  there  with  sighs  and  pensive  care 
She  ended  her  life  for  love. 

16  '  O  constancy,  in  her  thou  *rt  lost  I 

Now  let  women  boast  no  more  ; 
She  's  fled  unto  the  Elizium  coast, 
And  with  her  carryd  the  store. 

17  '  O  break,  my  heart,  with  sorrow  fiUd, 

Come,  swell,  you  strong  tides  of  grief  I 
You  that  my  dear  love  have  killd, 
Come,  yield  in  death  to  me  relief. 

18  *  Cruel  her  sister,  was 't  for  me 

That  to  her  she  was  unkind? 


293.    JOHN  OF  HAZEL6BEEN 


159 


Her  husband  I  will  never  be, 
But  with  this  my  love  be  joynd, 

19  *  Grim  Death  shall  tye  the  marriage-bands, 

Which  jealousie  shan't  divide ; 
Together  shall  tye  our  cold  hands, 
Whilst  here  we  lye  side  by  side. 

20  '  Witness,  ye  groves,  and  chrystial  streams, 

How  faithless  I  late  have  been. 
But  do  repent  with  dying  leaves 
Of  that  my  ungrateful  sin ; 

21  '  And  wish  a  thousand  times  that  I 

Had  been  but  to  her  more  kind, 
And  not  have  let  a  virgin  dye 
Whose  equal  there  's  none  can  find. 

22  •  Now  heape  of  sorrow  press  my  soul ; 

Now,  now  'tis  she  takes  her  way  ; 
I  come,  my  love,  without  controule, 
Nor  from  thee  will  longer  stay.' 

23  With  that  he  fetchd  a  heavy  groan 

Which  rent  his  tender  breast, 
And  then  by  her  he  laid  him  down, 
When  as  death  did  give  him  rest. 


24  Whilst  mournful  birds,  with  leavy  boughs, 
To  them  a  kind  burial  gave. 
And  warbled  out  their  love-sick  vows, 
Whilst  they  both  slept  in  their  grave. 

The  West-Country  Damosels  Complaint, 
or, 
The  Faithful  Lovers  Last  Farewel. 
Being  the  relation  of  a  young  maid  who  pined 
herself  to  death  for  the  love  of  a  young  man, 
who,  after  he  had  notice  of  it,  dyed  likewise 
for  grief. 
Careless  young  men,  by  this  a  warning  take 
How  you  kind  virgins,  when  they  love,  forsake  ; 
Least  the  same  fate  oretake  you,  and  you  dye 
For  breach  of  vows  and  infidelity. 
Be  kind,  but  swear  not  more  then  what  you  mean, 
Least  comick  jests  become  a  trajeck  scean. 

To  the  tune  of  Jolmny  Armstrong. 

a.  20'.  leaves  (so  in  all)  seems  dovhtful,  hut  I 

can  conjecture  nothing  better,     gleams  is 
just  possible. 

b.  2*.   thou  shalt  unto.     3*.  runs  beneath  thy. 
11^  times  stood.     20*.  that  wanting. 

22*.  will  no  longer. 


293 
JOHN  OF  HAZELGREEN 


A.  Elizabeth  Cochrane's  MS.,  p.  126. 

B.  '  Jock  0  Hazelgreen,'  Kinloch  MSS,  VII,  135  ;  Kin- 
loch's  Ancient  Scottish  Ballads,  p.  206. 

C.  'John  o  Hazelgreen,'  Kinloch  MSS,  I,  319. 


D.  a.  *  John  o  Hazelgreen,'  Buchan's  Ballads  of  the 
North  of  Scotland,  II,  253.  b.  •  Jock  of  Hazelgreen,' 
Chambers,  Scottish  Ballads,  p.  319. 

E.  a.  Fragmentary  verses  obtained  by  Mr  Pringle, 
Kinloch  MSS,  I,  321.  b.  Kmloch  MSS,  VH,  2,  one 
stanza. 


A  is  found,  with  the  doubtless  accidental 
variation  of  three  words,  in  a  folio  volume 
at  Abbotsford  labelled  Miscellanies,  article 
43,  having  been  transcribed  by  C.  K.  Sharpe 
for  Sir  W.  Scott "  from  a  4to  MS.,  in  a  female 
hand,  written  probably  about  one  hundred 
years  ago,  sold  at  one  Inglis's  roup  at  the 


West  Port,  Edinburgh,  now  in  the  possession 
of  David  Laing"  (that  is,  Elizabeth  Coch- 
rane's MS.).  D  b  was  compounded  from  D  a 
and  B,  "  omitting,"  says  Chambers,  "  many  of 
the  coarser  stanzas  of  both,  and  improving  a 
few  by  collation  with  a  third  version  which  I 
took  down  from  recitation,  and  another  which 


V 


160 


293.    JOHN   OF  HAZELGREEN 


X 


v/ 


has  been  shown  to  me  in  manuscript  by  Mr 
Kinloch  "  (C).  D  b  is,  after  all,  mainly  D  a 
with  omissions  ;  the  improvements  from  the 
recited  copy  (or  the  variations  from  Buchan 
and  Kinloch)  are  not  remarkable  in  amount 
or  quality.  B  is  given  on  Kinloch's  authority. 
Alexander  Campbell,  when  on  a  tour  on  the 
borders  of  Scotland  to  collect  Scottish  airs,  is 
said  to  have  received  the  first  stanza  from  Mr 
Thomas  Pringle,  who  derived  it  from  his 
mother's  singing.  (Chappell,  Popular  Music, 
p.  675.)  Upon  this  traditional  stanza  was 
built  Scott's  '  Jock  of  Hazeldean,'  first  printed 
m  Campbell's  Albyn's  Anthology,  1, 18, 1816. 
A.  A  gentleman  overhears  a  damsel  mak- 
ing a  moan  for  Sir  John  of  Hazelgreen.  After 
some  compliment  on  his  part,  and  some  slight 
information  on  hers,  he  tells  her  that  Hazel- 
green  is  married;  then  there  is  nothing  for 
her  to  do,  she  says,  but  to  hold  her  peace  and 
die  for  him.  The  gentleman  proposes  that 
she  shall  let  Hazelgreen  go,  marry  his  eldest 
son,  and  be  made  a  gay  lady  ;  she  is  too  mean 
a  maid  for  that,  and,  anyway,  had  rather 
die  for  the  object  of  her  affection.     Still  she 


allows  the  gentleman  to  take  her  up  behind 
him  on  his  horse,  and  to  buy  clothes  for  her 
at  Biggar,  though  all  the  time  dropping  tears 
for  Hazelgreen.  After  the  shopping  they 
mount  again,  and  at  last  they  come  to  the 
gentleman's  place,  when  the  son  runs  out 
to  welcome  his  father.  The  son  is  young 
Hazelgreen,  who  takes  the  maid  in  his  arms 
and  kisses  off  the  -still-falling  tears.  The 
father  declares  that  the  two  shall  be  married 
the  next  day,  and  the  young  man  have  the 
family  lands. 

The  other  versions  have  the  same  story, 
but  the  clothes  are  bought  at  Edinburgh,  and 
the  Hazelgreen  estate  seems  to  be  in  the 
neighborhood. 

In  a  preface  to  C,  Kinloch,  following  either 
D  5  or  some  foolish  popular  gloss,  remarks 
that  the  lady  is  presumed  to  have  seen  young 
Hazelgreen  only  in  a  dream,  which  left  so 
deep  an  impression  on  her  mind  as  to  cause 
her  to  fall  in  love  with  his  image.  To  im- 
prove upon  this,  D  15  makes  the  young  man 
also  to  have  seen  the  maid  in  a  dream. 


Elizabeth  Cochrane's  MS.,  p.  126. 

L  Into  a  sweet  May  morning, 

As  the  sun  clearly  shone, 
I  heard  a  propper  damsell 

Making  a  heavy  mqafl_^ 
Making  a  heavy  moan, 

I  marvelled  what  she  did  mean, 
And  it  was  for  a  gentleman, 

Sir  John  of  Hasillgreen. 

J  '  What  aUeth  thee  now,  bony  maid, 

To  mourn  so  sore  into  the  tide  ? 
O  happy  were  the  man,'  he  sayes, 

'  That  had  thee  to  his  bride,  _ 
To  ly  down  by  his  side  ^ 

Then  he  were  not  to  mean ; ' 
But  still  she  let  the  tears  down  fall 

For  pleasant  Hasilgreen. 


'  Oh  what  for  a  man  is  Hasillgreen  ? 

Sweet  heart,  pray  tell  to  me.' 
*  He  is  a  propper  gentleman, 

Dwels  in  the  South  Countrie  ; 
With  shoulders  broad  and  arms  long, 

And  comely  to  be  seen ; 
His  hairs  are  like  the  threeds  of  gold, 

My  pleasant  Hasilgreen.' 

'  Now  Hasilgreen  is  married, 

Let  all  this  talking  be.' 
'  If  Hasilgreen  be  married, 

This  day  then  woe  to  me ;  -, 

For  I  may  sigh  and  sob  no  more,      ' 

But  close  my  weeping  een, 
And  hold  my  peace  and  cry  no  more, 

But  dy  for  Hasilgreen.' 

'  Will  you  let  Hasilgreen  alone, 

And  go  along  with  me  ? 
I  'U  marry  you  on  my  eldest  son, 

Make  you  a  gay  lady.' 


293.    JOHN   OF  HAZELGRBEN 


161 


*  Make  me  a  gay  lady  ? '  she  sayes, 

*  I  am  a  maid  too  mean ; 

I  '11  rather  stay  at  home,'  she  cries, 

*  And  dy  for  Hasilgreen.' 

6  He  takes  this  pretty  maid  him  behind 

And  fast  he  spurred  the  horse, 
And  they  're  away  to  Bigger  toun, 

Then  in  to  Biggar  Cross. 
Their  lodging  was  far  sought, 

And  so  was  it  foreseen ; 
But  still  she  let  the  tears  doun  fall 

For  pleasant  Hasillgreen. 

7  He 's  ta'en  this  pretty  maid  by  the  hand, 

And  he  is  doun  the  toun ; 
He  bought  for  her  a  pettycoat, 

Yea,  and  a  trailing  goun ; 
A  silken  kell  fitt  for  her  head. 

Laid  oer  with  silver  sheen ; 
But  still  she  let  the  tears  doun  fall 

For  pleasant  Hasilgreen. 

8  He 's  taen  this  bony  mey  him  behind, 

And  he  is  to  the  Place, 


Where  there  was  mirth  and  menyness, 

And  ladyes  fair  of  face  ; 
And  ladyes  fair  of  face, 

Right  seemly  to  be  seen, 
But  still  she  let  the  tears  doun  fall 

For  pleasant  Hasilgreen. 

9  Young  Hasilgreen  ran  hastilie 

To  welcome  his  father  dear ; 
He  's  ta'en  that  pretty  maid  in  his  arms. 

And  kist  ofE  her  falling  tear : 
•  O  bony  mey,  now  for  thy  sake 

I  would  be  rent  and  rien  ; 
I  would  give  all  my  father's  lands 

To  have  thee  in  Hasilgreen.' 

10  *  0  hold  your  tongue  now,  son,'  he  sayes, 

'  Let  no  more  talking  be  ; 
This  maid  has  come  right  far  from  home 

This  day  to  visit  thee. 
This  day  should  been  your  wedding-day, 

It  shall  be  thy  bridall-een, 
And  thou 's  get  all  thy  father's  lands, 

And  dwell  in  Hasillgreen.' 


B 


Kinloch's  MSS,  VII,  135  ;  from  the  recitation  of  Jenny 
Watson,  Lanark,  24  April,  1826. 

1  It  was  on  a  morning  early, 

Before  day-licht  did  appear, 
I  heard  a  pretty  damsel 

Making  a  heavy  bier ; 
Making  a  heavy  bier, 

I  wonderd  what  she  did  mean ; 
But  ay  the  tears  they  rappit  doun, 

Crying,  O  Jock  o  Hazelgreen ! 

2  *  O  whare  is  this  Hazelgreen,  maid  ? 

That  I  may  him  see.' 
*  He  is  a  ticht  and  a  proper  man. 

Lives  in  the  South  Cuntree. 
His  shoulders  broad,  his  arms  lang, 

0  he  's  comely  to  be  seen  ! '  — 
But  ay  the  tears  they  drappit  doun 

For  Jock  o  Hazelgreen. 

3  '  Will  ye  gang  vri  me,  fair  maid  ? 

VOL.  V.  21 


And  1 11  marry  ye  on  my  son,* 

*  Afore  I  'd  go  along  wi  you. 
To  be  married  on  your  son, 

I  'd  rather  choose  to  stay  at  hame, 
And  die  for  Hazelgreen.* 

4  But  he  has  tane  her  up  behind, 

And  spurred  on  his  horse. 
Till  ance  he  cam  to  Embro  toun, 

And  lichted  at  the  corss. 
He  bought  to  her  a  petticoat, 

Besides  a  handsome  goun ; 
He  tied  a  silver  belt  about  her  waist, 

Worth  thrice  three  hunder  pimd. 

5  And  whan  he  cam  to  Hazelyetts, 

He  lichted  doun  therein  ; 
Monie  war  the  brave  ladies  there, 

Monie  ane  to  be  seen. 
She  lichted  doun  amang  them  aw. 

She  seemed  to  be  the  queen ; 
But  ay  the  tears  they  rappit  doun 

For  Jock  o  Hazelgreen. 


162 


293.     JOHN   OF  HAZELGBEEN 


6  Young  Hazelgreen  took  her  by  the  hand 

And  led  her  out  and  in : 
Said,  Bonnie  lady,  for  your  sake, 

I  could  be  baith  rent  and  rien ; 
I  wad  gie  aw  my  lands  and  rents, 

Tho  I  had  kingdoms  three. 
If  I  could  hae  the  great  pleasure 

To  enjoy  thy  fair  bodie. 


'  No  more  of  this,'  his  father  said, 

*  Of  your  mourning  let  abee  ; 
I  brought  the  damsel  far  f rae  hame, 

She  's  thrice  as  wae  for  thee. 
The  morn  is  your  bridal-day. 

The  nicht  is  your  bridal-een, 
And  I  '11  gie  you  aw  my  lands  and  rents. 

My  pleasing  son,  Hazelgreen.' 


Kinloch  MSS,  I,  319. 

1  As  I  gaed  out  in  a  May  morning. 

Afore  that  I  could  see, 
And  there  I  heard  a  pretty  fair  may 

Making  sweet  melodic. 
She  was  making  sic  melqdie, 

I  wonderd  what  she  could  mean ; 
But  ay  she  sang  and  sang  about 

Sweet  John  o  Hazelgreen. 

2  *  O  what  na  man  is  Hazelgreen  ? 

Fair  may,  pray  tell  to  me.' 
'  He  is  a  stout  and  a  tall  young  man 

As  in  a'  the  South  Countrie. 
He  is  a  stout  and  a  tall  young  man, 

And  comely  to  be  seen ; 
But  still  0  I  maun  weep  and  wail 

For  John  o  Hazelgreen.' 

3  *  Hold  your  tongue,  fair  maid,'  he  says, 

*  And  let  your  weeping  alane  ; 
I  '11  marry  you  to  my  eldest  son. 
And  you  shall  be  ca'd  my  dame.' 


4  He  has  tane  her  on  ahint  him, 
And  fast  he  spurred  the  steed ; 
For  Edinbro  town  he  there  was  bound. 
Where  they  soon  came  wi  speed. 

7  He 's  tane  her  to  the  Luckenbooths, 

Coft  her  a  braw  new  gown, 
A  handsome  feather  for  her  hat. 
And  a  pair  o  silken  shoon. 

8  He  has  tane  the  fair  may  up  again. 

And  fast  awa  rode  he ; 
For  Hazelgreen  now  he  was  bound. 
Her  lodging  there  to  be. 

9  She  jumped  afE  frae  ahint  him, 

As  fair  as  any  queen ; 
*  Come  down,  come  down,  Lord  John,'  he  says, 
'  And  welcome  your  lady  hame. 

10  *  It  is  the  tall  and  comely  youth, 
Sweet  John  o  Hazelgreen ; 
If  we  canna  see  it  bridal-day, 
It  shall  be  bridal-een.' 


a.  Bnchan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  II,  253. 
b.  Chambers,  Scottish  Ballads,  p.  319. 

1  As  I  went  forth  to  take  the  air 

Intill  an  evening  clear, 
And  there  I  spied  a  lady  fair, 

Making  a  heavy  bier  ; 
Making  a  heavy  bier,  I  say. 

But  and  a  piteous  meen. 
And  aye  she  sighd,  and  said,  Alas, 

For  John  o  Hazelgreen ! 


2  The  sun  was  sinking  in  the  west. 

The  stars  were  shining  clear. 
When  thro  the  thickets  o  the  wood, 

A  gentleman  did  appear. 
Says,  Who  has  done  you  the  wrong,  fair  maid. 

And  left  you  here  alane  ? 
Or  who  has  kissd  your  lovely  lips, 

That  ye  ca  Hazelgreen  ? 

3  *  Hold  your  tongue,  kind  sir,'  she  said, 

'  And  do  not  banter  so  ; 
How  will  ye  add  affliction 
Unto  a  lover's  woe  ? 


293.    JOHN   OF  HAZELGREEN 


163 


For  none  *s  done  me  the  wrong,'  she  said, 

'  Nor  left  me  here  alane ; 
Nor  none  has  kissd  my  lovely  lips, 

That  I  ca  Hazelgreen.' 

4  'Why  weep  ye  by  the  tide,  lady? 

Why  weep  ye  by  the  tide  ? 
How  blythe  and  happy  might  he  be 

Gets  you  to  be  his  bride  ! 
Gets  you  to  be  his  bride,  fair  maid, 

And  him  I'll  no  bemean ; 
But  when  I  take  my  words  again, 

Whom  call  ye  Hazelgreen  ? 

6  *  What  like  a  man  was  Hazelgreen  ? 
WUl  ye  show  him  to  me  ? ' 

*  He  is  a  comely,  proper  youth 

I  in  my  sleep  did  see ; 
Wi  arms  tall,  and  fingers  small, 

He's  comely  to  be  seen ; ' 
And  aye  she  loot  the  tears  down  fall 

For  John  o  Hazelgreen. 

6  '  If  ye'U  forsake  young  Hazelgreen, 

And  go  along  with  me, 
I  '11  wed  you  to  my  eldest  son, 
Make  you  a  lady  free.' 

*  It's  for  to  wed  your  eldest  son 

I  am  a  maid  oer  mean  ; 
I'll  rather  stay  at  home,'  she  says 
'  And  die  for  Hazelgreen.' 

7  '  If  ye'll  forsake  young  Hazelgreen, 

And  go  along  with  me, 
I'll  wed  you  to  my  second  son. 
And  your  weight  o  gowd  I'll  gie.* 

*  It's  for  to  wed  your  second  son 

I  am  a  maid  oer  mean ; 
I'll  rather  stay  at  home,'  she  says, 
*  And  die  for  Hazelgreen.' 

8  Then  he's  taen  out  a  siller  comb, 

Combd  down  her  yellow  hair ; 
And  looked  in  a  diamond  bright. 
To  see  if  she  were  fair. 

*  My  girl,  ye  do  all  maids  surpass 

That  ever  I  have  seen ; 
Cheer  up  your  heart,  my  lovely  lass. 
And  hate  young  Hazelgreen.' 

9  '  Young  -Hazelgreen  he  is  my  love, 

And  ever  mair  shall  be  ; 
I'll  nae  forsake  young  Hazelgreen 
For  a'  the  gowd  ye'll  gie.' 


But  aye  she  sighd,  and  said,  Alas ! 

And  made  a  piteous  meen, 
And  aye  she  loot  the  tears  down  fa 

For  John  o  Hazelgreen. 

10  He  looked  high,  and  lighted  low. 

Set  her  upon  his  horse  ; 
And  they  rode  on  to  Edinburgh, 

To  Edinburgh's  own  cross. 
And  when  she  in  that  city  was. 

She  lookd  like  ony  queen : 
'  'Tis  a  pity  such  a  lovely  lass 

Shoud  love  young  Hazelgreen.' 

11  *  Young  Hazelgreen,  he  is  my  love, 

And  ever  mair  shall  be  ; 
I'll  nae  forsake  young  Hazelg^reen 

For  a'  the  gowd  ye'll  gie.' 
And  aye  she  sighd,  and  said,  Alas  ! 

And  made  a  piteous  meen, 
And  aye  she  loot  the  tears  down  fa 

For  John  o  Hazelgreen. 

12  *  Now  hold  your  tongue,  my  well-f ard  maid, 

Lat  a'  your  mourning  be. 
And  a'  endeavours  I  shall  try 

To  bring  that  youth  to  thee. 
If  ye'U  tell  me  where  your  love  stays. 

His  stile  and  proper  name.' 
*  He's  laird  o  Taperbank,'  she  says, 

'  His  stile,  Young  Hazelgreen.' 

13  Then  he  has  coft  for  that  lady 

A  fine  silk  riding-gown. 
Likewise  he  coft  for  that  lady 

A  steed,  and  set  her  on  ; 
Wi  menji  feathers  in  her  hat, 

Silk  stockings  and  siller  sheen. 
And  they  are  on  to  Taperbank, 

Seeking  young  Hazelgreen. 

14  They  nimbly  rode  along  the  way, 

And  gently  spurrd  their  horse. 
Till  they  rode  on  to  Hazelgreen, 

To  Hazelgreen's  own  close. 
Then  forth  he  came,  young  Hazelgreen, 

To  welcome  his  father  free : 
*You're  welcome  here,  my  father  dear. 

And  a'  your  companie.' 

15  But  when  he  lookd  oer  his  shoulder, 

A  light  laugh  then  gae  he ; 
Says,  If  I  getna  this  lady. 
It's  for  her  I  must  die. 


164 


293.    JOHN  OF  HAZELGREEN 


I  must  confess  this  is  the  maid 

I  ance  saw  in  a  dream, 
A  walking  thro  a  pleasant  shade, 

As  fair's  a  cypress  queen. 

16  '  Now  hold  your  tongue,  young  Hazelgreen, 
Lat  a'  your  folly  be  ; 
If  ye  be  wae  for  that  lady. 

She's  thrice  as  wae  for  thee. 
She's  thrice  as  wae  for  thee,  my  son. 
As  bitter  doth  complain ; 


Well  is  she  worthy  o  the  rigs 
That  lie  on  Hazelgreen.' 

17  He's  taen  her  in  his  arms  twa, 

Led  her  thro  bower  and  ha : 
'  Cheer  up  your  heart,  my  dearest  dear, 

Ye're  flower  out-oer  them  a'. 
This  night  shall  be  our  wedding-een, 

The  morn  we'll  say,  Amen ; 
Ye'se  never  mair  hae  cause  to  mourn, 

Ye're  lady  o  Hazelgreen.' 


E< 


a.  "  Got  in  the  South  County  by  Mr  Pringle :  "  Kinloch's 
MSS,  I,  321.    b.  Kinloch's  MSS,  VII,  2. 

1  '  Why  weep  ye  by  the  tide,  ladye  ? 

Why  weep  ye  by  the  tide  ? 
I'll  wed  ye  to  my  youngest  son, 

And  ye  sail  be  his  bride. 
And  ye  sail  be  his  bride,  ladye, 

Sae  comely  to  be  seen ; ' 


But  aye  she  loot  the  tears  down  fa 
For  John  o  Hazelgreen. 

'  0  whaten  a  man  is  Hazelgreen  ? 

I  pray  thee  tell  to  me.' 
'  O  there's  not  a  handsomer  gentleman 

In  a'  the  South  Countrie. 
His  arms  are  long,  his  shoulders  broad, 

Sae  comely  to  be  seen ! ' 
And  aye  she  loot  the  tears  down  fa 

For  John  o  Hazelgreen. 


A.  1^  she  meant. 

Sharpens  transcript  reads :  1*.    In  for  Into. 
5^.  come /or  go.     8'.  Most /or  Right. 

B.  5^  thereat ;  changed  to  therein   in  printing. 

The  line  is  run  through  in  pencil. 
6*.  raving.     Cf.  A  9«. 

Kinloch  made  some  changes  in  printing. 

C.  Written  throughout  in  stanzas  of  four  verses. 

D.  b.  Since  Chambers  in  sows  measure  adjusted 

phraseology  with  a  view  to  '^literary" 
effect,  it  is  impossible  to  make  out  which 
of  the  variations  in  his  ballad  came  from 
the  copy  which  he  took  down  from  recita- 
tion. Upon  extracting  all  his  variations, 
they  have  not  turned  out  to  be  important. 
A  few,  which  seem  the  most  likely  to 
have  belonged  to  his  recited  copy,  are  sub- 
joined. 

1'.  I  spied  a  lady  in  a  wood. 

2*.  An  auld  knicht. 

7®'^  yoimgest  for  second. 


10^.  And  he  has  coft  her  silken  claes 
Garred  her  look  like  a  queen  : 
'  Ye  surely  now  will  sick  nae  mair 
For  Jock  o  Hazelgreen.' 
13''.  And  they  have  ridden  far  athort. 
After  15.  For  her  sake  I  did  vow  a  vow 
I  neer  should  wed  but  she ; 
Should  this  fair  lady  cruel  prove, 
I'll  lay  me  doun  and  dee. 
16'•*'^  sick /or  wae. 
16'''^  And  a'  she  wants  to  heal  her  woe 

Is  Jock  o  Hazelgreen. 
17*.  Ye're  lady  ower. 
S.  b.  2.  '  What  like  a  man  is  Haselgreen  ? 
Lady,  tell  to  me.' 
•  He's  a  handsome,  proper  youth 

As  ever  my  eyes  did  see. 
With  shoulders  broad  and  arms  long. 

Most  comely  to  be  seen  ; ' 
And  stiU  she  lout  the  tears  doun  fa 
For  Jock  of  Haselgreen. 


294.    DUGALL   QUIN 


165 


294 

DUGALL  QUIN 


■Dugall  Quin,'  The  Old  Lady's  MS.  Collection,  No  27. 


In  this  little  ballad,  which  has  barely  story 
enough  to  be  so  called,  Dugald  Quin,  a  High- 
lander, who  seems  to  give  himself  out  as  a 
man  in  very  humble  circumstances,  induces 
Lizzie  Menzies,  a  young  lady  who  appears  to 
have  nine  maids  at  her  command,  to  follow 
him,  regardless  of  her  father's  opposition. 
She  cannot  resist  his  merry  winking  eyes. 
After  she  has  cast  in  her  lot  with  his,  he 
promises  her  nine  mills  (to  match  the  nine 
maids),  and  to  make  her  lady  of  Garlogie. 
The  old  lady  minutes  at  the  end  of  her  copy 
that  "  it  was  the  Marquis  of  Huntly." 

One  version  of  '  Rob  Roy,'  No  225, 1,  8,  has 
a  stanza  like  2. 

*  What  think  ye  o  my  coal-black  hair, 
But  and  my  twinkling  een,  lady, 


A  little  bonnet  on  my  head, 
And  cocket  up  aboon,  lady  ? ' 

I  suppose  the  Farie  of  6^,  9^,  to  stand  for  a 
locality  on  the  waycaorth  to  Boggie  (Strath- 
bogie)  ;  I  cannot,  however,  identify  the  place. 
*Tempeng  chiss  of  farie,'  6^  9^,  10*,  may  be 
a  tempting  fairy  treasure.  '  Chis  '  is  Gaelic 
for  tribute^  but  I  am  at  present  unable,  making 
whatever  allowance  for  the  capricious  spelling 
of  the  manuscript,  to  suggest  any  satisfying 
explanation  of  this  important  phrase. 

Sir  Walter  Scott  makes  this  note :  "  How 
the  devil  came  Dugald  Gunn  [so  he  chooses  to 
read  Quin]  to  be  identified  with  the  Marquis 
of  Huntly  ?  I  never  saw  the  song  before  ;  it 
has  some  spunk  in  it."  Sharpe's  Ballad  Book, 
ed.  1880,  p.  154. 


1  Dugall  Quin  came  to  the  toun, 

An  he 's  ben  lang  awaa, 
An  he  is  one  to  Lissie's  bed, 
Tartan,  trues,  an  a'. 

2  '  Hou  wad  ye  leak  me,  Lisie,'  he  says, 

'  Gin  that  I  war  yer  ain, 
We  raged  cot  apon  my  back. 

An  singel-soled  sheen, 
A  littel  we  bonnet  on  my  head, 

An  tua  merry  wenking  ean  ? ' 

3  '  Well  wad  I  leak  ye,  Dugall,'  she  says, 

'  Gin  that  ye  war  my  ain, 
We  ragged  coat  upon  yer  back. 

An  singel-soled  sheen, 
A  littel  we  bonnet  on  yer  head, 

An  tua  merry  wenking  eyn. 


4  '  Hou  wad  ye  leak  me,  Dugall,'  she  says, 

'  Gin  I  wer  yer  ain. 
We  silken  sneed  upon  my  head. 

An  gold  f  ann  in  my  hand, 
An  madins  ning,  a'  dead  in  green, 

To  be  att  my  comand  ? ' 

6  *  Well  wad  I  leak  ye,  Lisie,'  he  says, 

*  Gin  ye  wer  my  ain, 
We  silken  sneed  upon  yer  head. 

An  a  goud  fan  in  yer  hand, 
An  madins  nine,  a'  clad  in  green, 

To  be  att  yer  command. 

6  '  Follou  me  nou,  Lisie,'  he  says, 
'  Follou  me  throu  Farie, 
An  reap  the  boddoms  of  my  pakets. 
An  ye  '11  gett  tempeng  chiss  of  f arei.' 


166 


296.    THE  BROWN  GIRL 


7  Outspak  her  father,  says, 

Lissie,  I  widna  wish  ye, 
For  gin  ye  gay  we  this  young  man 
They  will  say  I  ha  bat  lost  ye. 

8  *  0  had  yer  toung,  my  father  dear. 

For  a'  that  winne  brake  me  ; 

For  I  will  gaa  we  this  young  man, 

Since  it 's  his  will  to  take  me.' 

9  '  Follou  me  nou,  Liss6,'  he  says, 

'  An  f  oUou  me  throu  Farie, 
An  reap  the  boddom  of  my  poket, 
An  ye  '11  gett  tempeng  chess  of  farie.' 

10  *  Wea  matt  worth  yer  well-fared  face, 
Alas  that  ever  I  saa  ye  ! 


The  first  an  thing  that  ever  ye  gaa  to  me 
Was  the  tempen  chess  of  farie.' 

11  Dugall  Quin  read  doun  the  toun, 

Upon  Dumfarling's  horses, 

An  Lisie  Meanes  foUoued  him. 

For  a'  her  father's  forces. 

12  *  Follou  me  nou,  Lisie,'  he  says, 

*  An  follou  me  our  Boggie  ; 

I  ill  make  ye  lady  of  ning  mills, 

An  lady  of  bonny  Garloge.' 

13  She  has  foUoued  her  trou-love 

[An  f olloued  him]  our  Boggie, 
An  she  has  marred  Dugall  Quin, 
An  lives  belou  Strathbogy. 


2^  bomnet.  4*,  12®.  ning :  a  frequent  spell- 
ing of  the  old  lady's,  conceived,  perhaps, 
as  nign.     We  have  nine  in  5'. 


12«.  ill ;  MS.  aiU. 
Note   at   the   end: 
Huntly. 


it  was    the   markes    of 


295 

THE  BROWN  GIRL 


A.  '  The  bonny  Brown  Girl,'  '  The  Brown  Girl,'  The 
Brown  Girl's  Garland,  British  Museum,  11621.  c.  3 
(10). 


B.  As  lately  taken  down  in  Devon  by  B«v.  S.  Baring 
Gould. 


A  YOUNG  man  who  has  been  attached  to  a 
girl  sends  her  word  by  letter  that  lie  cannot 
fancy  her  because  she  is  so  brown  (he  has  left 
her  for  another  maid  in  B).  She  sends  a  dis- 
dainful reply.  He  writes  again  that  he  is  dan- 
gerously ill  (he  is  love-sick  in  B),  and  begs 
her  come  to  him  quickly  and  give  him  back 
his  faith.  She  takes  her  time  in  going,  and 
when  she  comes  to  the  sick  man's  bedside, 
cannot  stand  for  laughing.  She  has,  however, 
brought  a  white  wand  with  her,  which  she 
strokes  on  his  breast,  in  sign  that  she  gives 
him  back  the  faith  which  he  had  given  her. 
But  as  to  forgetting  and  forgiving,  that  she 
will  never  do ;  she  will  dance  upon  his  grave. 


This  little  ballad  recalls  *  Lord  Thomas  and 
Fair  Annet '  ('  Lord  Thomas  and  Fair  Ellinor, 
with  the  downfall  of  the  Brown  Girl ' ), '  Sweet 
William's  Ghost,'  'Clerk  Saunders,'  'The 
Unquiet  Grave,'  '  Bonny  Barbara  Allan,'  and 
has  something  of  all  of  them.  Compare  No 
^^3 ;  No  77^  A  4,  B  2,  9,  C  6,  14,  D  4,  13,  B  6, 
14  ;  No  (g  (for  the  laughing,  B  12)  ;  No  69} 
4^20-22,  D  11,  14,  B  17-20,  G  23-25;  No 
78^  B  2,  B  2,  F  2.  Still  it  is  not  deliberately 
and  mechanically  patched  together  (as  are 
some  pieces  in  Part  VIII),  and  in  the  point 
of  the  proud  and  unrelenting  character  of  the 
Brown  Girl  it  is  original. 


295.     THE  BROWN   GIRL 


167 


The  Brown  Girl's  Garland,  British  Museum,  11621.  c.  3 
(10),  n.  d.,  before  1788. 

1  *  I  am  as  brown  as  brown  can  be, 

My  eyes  as  black  as  a  sloe ; 
I  am  as  brisk  as  a  nightingale, 
And  as  wilde  as  any  doe. 

2  *  My  love  has  sent  me  a  love-letter, 

Not  far  from  yonder  town, 
That  he  could  not  fancy  me, 
Because  I  was  so  brown. 

3  '  I  sent  him  his  letter  back  again, 

For  his  love  I  valu'd  not. 
Whether  that  he  could  fancy  me 
Or  whether  he  could  not. 

4  *  He  sent  me  his  letter  back  again, 

That  he  lay  dangerous  sick. 


That  I  might  then  go  speedily 
To  give  him  up  his  faith.' 

6  Now  you  shall  hear  what  love  she  had 
Then  for  this  love-sick  man ; 
She  was  a  whole  long  summer's  day 
In  a  mile  a  going  on. 

6  When  she  came  to  her  love's  bed-side. 

Where  he  lay  dangerous  sick, 
She  could  not  for  laughing  stand 
Upright  upon  her  feet. 

7  She  had  a  white  wand  all  in  her  hand. 

And  smoothd  it  all  on  his  breast ; 
*  In  faith  and  troth  come  pardon  me, 
I  hope  your  soul 's  at  rest. 

8  *  I  '11  do  as  much  for  my  true-love 

As  other  maidens  may ; 
I  '11  dance  and  sing  on  my  love's  grave 
A  whole  twelvemonth  and  a  day.' 


Taken  down  lately  by  Rev,  S.  Baring-Gould  from  a  black- 
smith, parish  of  Thrushleton,  Devon. 

1  'I  am  as  brown  as  brown  can  be. 

And  my  eyes  as  black  as  sloe ; 
I  am  as  brisk  as  brisk  can  be. 
And  wild  as  forest  doe. 

2  '  My  love  he  was  so  high  and  proud, 

His  fortune  too  so  high. 
He  for  another  fair  pretty  maid 
Me  left  and  passed  me  by. 

3  '  Me  did  he  send  a  love-letter, 

He  sent  it  from  the  town. 
Saying  no  more  he  loved  me, 
For  that  I  was  so  brown. 

4  '  I  sent  his  letter  back  again. 

Saying  his  love  I  valued  not. 

Whether  that  he  would  fancy  me, 

Whether  that  he  would  not. 

5  *  When  that  six  months  were  overpassd, 

Were  overpassd  and  gone, 


Then  did  my  lover,  once  so  bold, 
lie  on  his  bed  and  groan. 

6  '  When  that  six  months  were  overpassd, 

Were  gone  and  overpassd, 

0  then  my  lover,  once  so  bold, 

With  love  was  sick  at  last. 

7  *  First  sent  he  for  the  doctor-man : 

*  You,  doctor,  me  must  cure ; 
The  pains  that  now  do  torture  me 
I  can  not  long  endure.' 

8  '  Next  did  he  send  from  out  the  town, 

O  next  did  send  for  me  ; 
He  sent  for  me,  the  brown,  brown  girl 
Who  once  his  wife  should  be. 

9  *  O  neer  a  bit  the  doctor-man 

His  sufferings  could  relieve  ; 
O  never  an  one  but  the  brown,  brown  girl 
Who  could  his  life  reprieve.' 

10  Now  yon  shall  hear  what  love  she  had 
For  this  poor  love-sick  man. 
How  all  one  day,  a  summer's  day, 
She  walked  and  never  ran. 


168 


296.    WALTER  LESLT 


11  When  that  she  came  to  his  bedside, 

Where  he  lay  sick  and  weak, 
O  then  for  laughing  she  could  not  stand 
Upright  upon  her  feet. 

12  '  You  flouted  me,  you  scouted  me, 

And  many  another  one ; 
Now  the  reward  is  come  at  last, 
For  aU  that  you  have  done.' 

13  The  rings  she  took  from  off  her  hands, 

The  rings  by  two  and  three  : 
'  O  take,  O  take  these  golden  rings. 
By  them  remember  me.' 


14  She  had  a  white  wand  in  her  hand. 

She  strake  him  on  the  breast : 
'  My  faith  and  troth  I  give  back  to  thee, 
So  may  thy  soul  have  rest.' 

15  '  Prithee,'  said  he,  '  forget,  forget, 

Prithee  forget,  forgive ; 

0  grant  me  yet  a  little  space. 
That  I  may  be  well  and  live.' 

16  '  O  never  will  I  forget,  forgive. 

So  long  as  I  have  breath ; 

1  'U  dance  above  your  green,  green  grave 

Where  you  do  lie  beneath.' 


A.  Heading.  The  Brown  Girl ;  to  an  excellent  tune. 

B.  From  A  right  merry  book  of  Garlands.     Col- 

lected by  J.  BeU,  on  the  Quay,  Newcastle 
upon  Tyne.  A  slip  inserted  after  the  6th 
Garland  bears  these  words :  The  old  gar- 
lands in  these  volumes  [11621.  c.  3,  c.  4]  are 
printed  by  J.  White,  who  died  in  1769,  and 


by  T.  Saint,  who  died  in  1788.  .  .  .  Letter 

of  J.  BeU. 
The  Brown  Girl's  Garland,  composed  of  four 

extraordinary  new  songs. 
The  bonny  Brown  Girl,  etc.,  etc. 

4*.  his  Eilk. 


296 
WALTER  LESLY 


re) 


*  Walter  Lesly,'  Buchan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  II,  139.  |   '  **(,2-^ 

A  LATE,  but  life-like  and  spirited  ballad.  Lesly,  weary  -with  hard  riding,  falls  asleep ; 

Walter   Lesly   steals   a  girl,    not   for  her  the  girl  gets  up  and  runs  over  moss,  moor, 

beauty  or  blood,  but  for  her  mother's  dollars,  hill  and  dale,  barefoot.     Lesly's  men  pursue, 

of  which  he  has  need.     She  is  tied  on  to  a  but  the  road  is  full  of  pools  and  tires  the  men 

horse,  taken  to  an  ale-house,  and  put  to  bed.  out.     The  girl  effects  her  escape. 


1  On  the   second    of    October,    a  Monday   at 

noon. 
In  came    Walter   Lesly,   to    see  his  proper 

one ; 
He  set  a  chair  down  by  her  side,  and  gently 

sat  her  by, 
Says,  Will  ye  go  to  Conland,  this  winter-time 

to  lye? 


2  He  's  taen  a  glass  into  his  hand,  inviting  her 

to  drink. 
But  little  knew  she  his  meaning,  or  what  the 

rogue  did  think  ; 
Nor  what  the  rogue  did  think,  to  steal  the 

maid  away  ; 
'Will  ye  go  to  Conland.  this  winter-time  to 

lye?' 


3  When  they  had  taen  a  glass  or  two,  and  all 

were  making  merry, 
In  came  Geordy  Lesly,  and  forth  he  did  her 

carry ; 
Then  upon  high  horseback  sae  hard  's  he  did 

her  tye,  - 
'  Will  ye  go  to  Conland,  this  winter-time  to 

lye?' 

4  Her  mother  she  came  to  the  door,  the  saut  tears 

on  her  cheek, 
She  coudna  see  her  daughter,  it  was  for  dust 

and  reek  ; 
It  was  for  dust  and  reek,  the  swords  they  glancd 

sae  high ; 
*  And  wiU  ye  go  to  Conland,  this  winter-time 

to  lye  ? ' 


296.     WALTER  LESLY  169 

8  Then  over  moss  and  over  muir  sae  cleverly  she 


And  over  hill  and  over  dale,  without  stockings 

or  shoon ; 
The  men  pursued  her  full  fast,  wi  mony  shout 

and  cry, 
Says,  Will  ye  go  to  Conland,  the  winter-time 

to  lye. 

9  '  Wae  to  the  dubs  o  DufEus  land,  that  eer  they 
were  sae  deep  ; 

They've  trachled  a'  our  horsemen  and  gart 
our  captain  sleep  ; 

And  gart  our  captain  sleep,  and  the  lassie  win 
away. 

And  she  '11  go  no  more  to  Conland,  the  winter- 
time to  lye.' 


5  When  they  came  to  the  ale-house,  the  people        10  *  I  'd  rather  be  in  Duff  us  land,  selling  at  the 


there  were  busy ; 

A  bridal-bed  it  was  well  made,  and  supper  well 
made  ready ; 

When  the  supper  down  was  set,  baith  plum- 
pudding  and  pie, 

*  And  will  ye  go  to  Conland,  this  winter-time 

to  lye?' 

6  When  they  had  eaten  and  well  drunken,  and 

a'  man  bound  for  bed, 
The  laddie  and  the  lassie  in  ae  chamber  were 

laid; 
He  qmckly  stript  her  to  the  smock,  and  gently 

laid  her  bye. 
Says,  Will  ye  go  to  Conland,  this  winter-time 

to  lye? 

7  But  Walter  being  weary,  he  fell  fast  asleep, 
And  then  the  lassie  thought  it  fit  to  start  up 

till  her  feet ; 
To  start  up  till  her  feet,  and  her  petticoats  to  tye, 

*  We  '11  go  no  more  to  Conland,  the  winter-time 

to  lye.' 


ale, 
Before  I  was  wi  Lesly,  for  a'  his  auld  meal ; 
For  a'  his  auld  meal,  and  sae  mony  comes  to 

buy; 
I  '11  go  no  more  to  Conland  the  winter-time  to 

lye. 

11  *  I  'd  rather  be  in  Duffus  land,  dragging  at  the 

ware, 
Before  I  was  wi  Lesly,  for  a'  his  yellow  hair ; 
For  a'  his  yellow  hair,  and  sae  well 's  he  can 

it  tye  ; 
I  '11  go  no  more  to  Conland,  this  winter-time  to 

lye.' 

12  It  was  not  for  her  beauty,  nor  yet  her  gentle 

bluid, 

But  for  her  mither's  dollars,  of  them  he  had 
great  need ; 

Of  them  he  had  great  need,  now  he  maun  do 
them  by, 

For  she  '11  go  no  more  to  Conland,  this  winter- 
time to  lye. 


Printed  in  stanzas  of  eight  short  lines. 


22 


170 


297.    EARL  ROTHES 


297 

EARL  ROTHES 


l^ 


LW    41 


;^ 


<- 


■'  Earl  Rothes,'  Kinloch  MSS,  I,  333. 


Lady  Ann  has  an  adulterous  connection 
with  Earl  Rothes,  and  her  youthful  brother 
seeks  to  sunder  it.  He  offers  to  pay  a  tocher 
for  her  if  she  will  forsake  the  earl's  company  ; 
to  keep  her  in  his  castle  till  she  is  safely 


brought  to  bed,  and  make  her  a  marquis's 
lady ;  she  rejects  all  his  offers  with  scorn. 
The  boy  declares  that  when  he  is  old  enough 
to  wear  a  sword  he  will  thrust  it  through  Earl 
Rothes  for  using  his  sister  so  badly. 


1  *  O  Earl  Rothes,  an  thou  wert  mine, 

And  I  were  to  be  thy  ladie, 
I  wad  drink   at  the  beer,  and  tipple  at  the 
wine, 
And  be  my  bottle  with  any.' 

2  '  Hold  thy  tongue,  sister  Ann,'  he  says, 

'  Thy  words  they  are  too  many ; 

What  wad  ye  do  wi  sae  noble  a  lord. 

When  he  has  so  noble  a  ladie  ? 

3  *  0  I  '11  pay  you  your  tocher,  Lady  Ann, 

Both  in  gear  and  money, 
If  ye  '11  forsake  Earl  Rothes's  companie, 
And  mind  that  he  has  a  ladie.' 

4  '  I  do  not  value  your  gold,'  she  says, 

*  Your  gear  it 's  no  sae  readie  ; 
I  '11  neer  forsake  Earl  Rothes's  companie, 
And  I  don't  gie  a  fig  for  his  ladie.' 

6  '  I  '11  keep  ye  i  the  castle.  Lady  Ann, 
O  servants  ye  shall  hae  monie  ; 


I  '11  keep  ye  till  ye  're  safely  brocht  to  bed. 
And  I  '11  mak  you  a  marquis's  ladie.' 

6  '  I  do  not  value  your  castle,'  she  says, 

'  Your  servants  are  no  sae  readie  ; 
Earl  Rothes  will  keep  me  till  I  'm  brocht  to 
bed. 
And  he  '11  mak  me  a  marquis's  ladie.' 

7  '  Woe  be  to  thee,  Earl  Rothes,'  he  says, 

'  And  the  mark  o  the  judge  be  upon  thee, 
For  the  using  o  this  poor  thing  sae, 
For  the  using  my  sister  so  badly. 

8  '  When  I  'm  come  to  the  years  of  a  man. 

And  able  a  sword  to  carry, 
I  '11  thrust  it  thro  Earl  Rothes'  bodie 
For  the  using  my  sister  sae  basely. 

9  '  Fare  thee  well.  Lady  Ann,'  he  says, 

'  No  longer  will  I  tarry  ; 
You  and  I  will  never  meet  again. 

Till  we  meet  at  the  bonny  town  o  Torry.' 


298.    YOUNG  PEGGY 


171 


298 
YOUNG  PEGGY 


*  Young  Peggy,'  Kinloch's  Ancient  Scottish  Ballads,  p.  153. 


Peggy  has  been  seen  in  the  garden  with 
Jamie  late  in  the  night,  for  which  her 
mother  calls  her  to  account.  She  does  not 
deny  the  fact;  she  takes  the  blame  on  herself ; 
the  thing  will  happen  again.  But  going  to 
her  bower,  where  Jamie  is  attending  her,  she 


tells  him  they  must  meet  no  more.  He  makes 
a  tryst  with  her  in  the  greenwood  at  midnight, 
she  keeps  it  and  goes  ofE  with  her  lover.  Her 
father  pursues  them,  but  they  are  married 
before  he  gets  to  the  top  of  the  hill. 


1  '  O  WHARE  hae  ye  been,  Peggy  ? 
0  whare  hae  ye  been  ?  ' 
'  I  the  garden  amang  the  gilly-flowrs, 
Atween  twal  hours  and  een.' 


7  She 's  tane  the  wine-glass  in  her  hand, 
Pourd  out  the  wine  sae  clear  ; 
Says,  Here  's  your  health  and  mine,  Jamie, 
And  we  maun  meet  na  mair. 


2  '  Ye  've  na  been  there  your  leen,  Peggy, 

Ye  've  na  been  there  your  leen ; 
Your  father  saw  you  in  Jamie's  arms, 
Atween  twal  hours  and  een.' 

3  *  Tho  my  father  saw  me  in  Jamie's  arms. 

He  '11  see  me  there  again  ; 
For  I  will  sleep  in  Jamie's  arms 
When  his  grave  's  growin  green.' 

4  '  Your  Jamie  is  a  rogue,  Peggy, 

Your  Jamie  is  a  loun, 
For  trysting  out  our  ae  dochter, 
And  her  sae  very  young.' 

5  *  Lay  no  the  wyte  on  Jamie,  mither, 

The  blame  a'  lies  on  me  ; 
For  I  will  sleep  in  Jamie's  arms 
When  your  een  winna  see.' 

6  Now  she  has  to  her  ain  bouer  gane ; 

He  was  waiting  there  him  leen  : 
'  I  'm  blythe  to  see  ye,  Jamie,  here, 
For  we  maunna  meet  again.' 


8  She  has  tane  him  in  her  arms  twa, 

And  gien  him  kisses  five  ; 
Says,  Here  's  your  health  and  mine,  Jamie, 
I  wish  weel  mote  ye  thrive. 

9  '  Your  father  has  a  bonnie  cock, 

Divides  the  nicht  and  day, 
And  at  the  middle  watch  o  the  nicht 
In  greenwud  ye  '11  meet  me.' 

10  Whan  bells  war  rung,  and  mass  was  sung. 

And  a'  men  boim  for  bed, 
She 's  kilted  up  her  green  claithing. 
And  met  Jamie  in  the  wud. 

11  Whan  bells  war  nmg,  and  mass  was  sung, 

About  the  hour  o  twa. 
It 's  up  bespak  her  auld  father. 
Says,  Peggy  is  awa ! 

12  '  Ga  saddle  to  me  the  black,  the  black, 

Ga  saddle  to  me  the  grey  ; ' 
But  ere  they  wan  to  the  tap  o  the  hill 
The  wedding  was  a'  bye. 


^J? 


172 


299.     TROOPER  AND   MAID 


299 
TROOPER  AND  MAID 


A.  '  The  Trooper  and  Fair  Maid,'  Buchan's  Ballads  of      B.  '  The  Trooper,'  Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  27. 
the  North  of  Scotland,  I,  230. 

C.  Jamieson's  Scottish  Ballads,  II,  158. 


A  TROOPER  comes  to  the  house  of  his  mis- 
tress in  the  evening  and  is  kindly  received. 
They  pass  the  night  together  and  are  wakened 
by  the  trumpet.  He  must  leave  her ;  she 
follows  him  some  way,  he  begging  her  to  turn 
back.  She  asks  him  repeatedly  when  they 
are  to  meet  again  and  marry.  He  answers, 
when  cockle  shells  grow  siller  bells,  when 
fishes  fly  and  seas  gang  dry,  etc. :  see  I,  168, 
437. 

There  are  several  other  ballads  of  a  trooper 
and  a  maid  (Peggy).  In  '  The  Bonnie  Lass 
o  Fyvie,'  Christie,  I,  276,  Murison  MS.,  p.  50, 
Kinloch  MSS,  VII,  339,  Buchan  MSS,  II,  270, 
» Irish  Dragoons,'  Motherwell's  MSS,  p.  428, 
a  captain  falls  in  love  with  a  Peggy  and  dies 
thereof  ;  but  in  another  copy,  '  Pretty  Peggy,' 
Gibb  MS.,  No  13,  p.  53,  all  is  made  to  end 
well.  A  dragoon  very  constant  and  liberal 
to  Peggy,  and  she  very  fond  to  him,  are  hap- 
pily married  in  '  The  Dragoon  and  Peggy,' 
Maidment,  Scotish  Ballads  and  Songs,  1859, 
p.  98,  from  a  Glasgow  copy  of  the  date  1800. 
The  first  half  of  this  ballad  is  found  under 
the  title  of  '  The  Laird  of  Kellary '  in  Kin- 


loch MSS,  I,  359.     In  an  English  broadside 
which  is  perhaps  of  the  first  half  of  the  seven- 
teenth century,  a  married  Peggy  leaves  her 
husband  to  follow  a  soldier  over  sea,  but  re- 
turns  and   is     forgiven :    '  The  Soldier  and 
Peggy,'    Roxburghe   collection,  I,  370  (also 
Pepys,  Euing,  Douce),  Chappell,   The  Rox- 
burghe Ballads,  II,  475.     '  Peggie  is  over  the 
sie  with  the  souldier '  is  the  title  of  a  tune      , 
(No  95)  in  the  Skene  MSS,  which  date  from  "^  - 
the  first  quarter  of  the  seventeenth  century.  ^' 
A  correspondent  of  C.  K.  Sharpe  sent  him 
one   stanza  of   a   Scottish  ballad   upon  this 
theme :  j 

Peggie  's  gane  oer  the  seas,  a'  dressed  in  red,       Aj 
An  Peggie  's  come  back  again,  beggin  her  bread. 
The  landladie  looked  wi  the  tail  o  her  ee : 
'  0  foul  fa  ye,  Peggie,  for  leaving  o  me.' 

There  is  also  a  ballad  of  a  valiant  trooper 
and  a  pretty  Peggy  who,  at  first  inconstant, 
turns  out  a  loving  wife,  in  Pepys,  IV,  40, 
No  37. 

A  is  translated  by  Gerhard,  p.  189. 


One  evening  as  a  maid  did  walk, 
The  moon  was  shining  clearly. 

She  heard  a  trooper  at  the  gates, 
She  thought  it  was  her  dearie. 

She  's  taen  his  horse  then  by  the  head, 
And  led  him  to  the  stable. 


And  gien  to  him  baith  com  and  hay, 
To  eat  what  he  was  able. 

Bonny  lass,  gin  I  come  near  you, 

Bonny  lass,  gin  I  come  near  you, 
I  '11  gar  a'  your  ribbons  reel. 
Bonny  lass,  or  eer  I  lea  you. 

2  She  's  taen  the  trooper  by  the  hand, 
And  led  him  to  the  table, 


299.    TROOPER  AND  MAID 


173 


And  fumlshd  him  wi  bread  and  cheese, 

To  eat  what  he  was  able. 
She 's  taen  the  wine-glass  in  her  hand, 

Poured  out  the  wine  sae  clearly  ; 

*  Here  is  your  health  an  mine,'  she  cried, 

'  And  ye  're  welcome  hame,  my  deary ! 

3  *  A  glass  o  wine  for  gentlemen. 

And  bonny  lads  for  lasses, 
And  bread  and  cheese  for  cavaliers. 

And  corn  and  hay  for  asses.' 
Then  she  went  but  and  made  his  bed. 

She  made  it  like  a  lady, 
And  she  coost  aff  her  mankie  gown. 

Says,  Laddie,  are  you  ready  ? 

4  Then  he  coost  aff  his  big  watch-coat, 

But  and  his  silken  beaver, 
A  pair  o  pistols  frae  his  side, 
And  he  lay  down  beside  her. 

*  Bonny  lassie,  I  am  wi  you  now. 

Bonny  lassie  I  am  wi  you, 
But  I  'U  gar  a'  your  ribbons  reel, 
Bonny  lassie,  ere  I  lea  you.' 

5  The  trumpet  sounds  thro  Birldale, 

Says,  Men  and  horse,  make  ready  ; 
The  drums  do  beat  at  Staneman  hill, 

'  Lads,  leave  your  mam  and  daddie.' 
The  fifes  did  play  at  Cromley  banks, 

'  Lads,  leave  the  lewes  o  Fyvie ;  * 
And  then  the  trooper  he  got  up, 

Says,  Lassie,  I  must  lea  you. 

6  '  Bonny  lassie,  I  maun  lea  you  now. 

Bonny  lassie,  I  maun  lea  you  ; 
But  if  ever  I  come  this  road  again, 
I  will  come  in  and  see  you.' 

7  She 's  taen  her  gown  out-ower  her  arms. 

And  followed  him  to  Stirling, 
And  aye  the  trooper  he  did  say, 
0  turn  ye  back,  my  darling. 

*  O  when  will  we  twa  meet  again  ? 

Or  when  will  you  me  marry  ?  * 


*  When  rashin  rinds  grow  gay  gowd  ring^s, 

I  winna  langer  tarry.' 

8  *  O  when  wiU  we  twa  meet  again  ? 

Or  when  will  you  me  marry  ? ' 

*  When  heather-knaps  grow  siller  taps, 

I  winna  langer  tarry.' 
'  O  when  will  we  twa  meet  again  ? 
Or  when  will  you  me  marry  ?  ' 

*  When  heather-cows  grow  owsen-bows, 

I  winna  langer  tarry.' 

9  '  O  when  -wj)!  we  twa  meet  again  ? 

Or  when  will  you  me  marry  ?  ' 
'  When  cockle-shells  grow  siUer  bells, 
I  winna  langer  tarry.' 

*  O  when  will  we  twa  meet  again  ? 

Or  when  will  you  me  marry  ?  ' 

*  When  apple-trees  grow  in  the  seas, 

I  winna  langer  tarry.' 

10  *  O  when  will  we  twa  meet  again  ? 

Or  when  will  you  me  marry  ?  ' 

*  When  fishes  fly,  and  seas  gang  dry, 

I  winna  langer  tarry.' 

*  O  when  will  we  twa  meet  again  ? 

Or  when  will  you  me  marry  ?  ' 

*  When  frost  and  snaw  shall  warm  us  a', 

I  wiima  langer  tarry.' 

11  '  Yestreen  I  was  my  daddie's  dow. 

But  an  my  mamy's  dawtie  ; 
This  night  I  gang  wi  bairn  to  you, 

Wae  's  me  that  I  eer  saw  thee  !  * 
'  Yestreen  ye  were  your  daddie's  dow, 

But  an  your  mammie's  dawtie ; 
But  gin  ye  gang  wi  bairn  to  me. 

Ye  may  rue  that  eer  ye  saw  me. 

12  '  O  turn  back,  my  bonny  lass, 

And  turn  back,  my  dearie ; 
For  the  Highland  hills  are  ill  to  climb. 
And  the  bluidy  swords  woud  fear  ye.' 


Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  27 ;  from  the  recitation  of  Widow 
Nicol. 

1  There  cam  a  trooper  frae  the  West, 
And  of  riding  he  was  weary  ; 


He  rappit  at  and  clappit  at. 

In  calling  for  his  dearie. 
By  chance  the  maid  was  in  the  close, 

The  moon  was  shining  clearly. 
She  opened  the  gates  and  let  him  in. 

Says,  Ye  're  welcome  hame,  my  dearie. 


174 


209.    TROOPER  AND  MAID 


She  took  the  horse  by  the  bridle-reins 

And  led  him  to  the  stable  ; 
She  gave  him  corn  and  hay  to  eat, 

As  much  as  he  was  able. 
She  up  the  stair  and  made  the  bed, 

She  made  it  fit  for  a  lady. 
Then  she  coost  aff  her  petticoat, 

Said,  Trooper,  are  ye  ready  ? 


*  There  's  bread  and  cheese  for  musqueteers, 
And  corn  and  hay  for  hor[s]es. 

Sack  and  sugar  for  auld  wives, 
And  lads  for  bonnie  lasses.' 

4  He  coost  aff  his  gude  buff  coat,  • 
His  boots,  likewise  his  beaver. 
He  drew  his  rapier  frae  his  side, . 

And  streekit  him  down  beside  her. 
'  Bonnie  lass,  I  trew  I  'm  near  the[e]  now, 
Bonnie  lass,  I  trew  I  'm  near  thee, 


And  I  '11  gar  a'  thy  ribbons  reel, 
Bonnie  lassie,  or  I  lea  thee.' 

5  They  had  but  spoken  little  a  while 

Till  of  speaking  they  were  weary  ; 
They  sleeped  together  in  each  other's  anna 

Till  the  sun  was  shining  clearly. 
The  very  first  sound  the  trumpet  gave 

"Was,  Troopers,  are  ye  ready  ? 
Away  you  must  to  London  town, 

Or  else  for  Londonderry. 

6  She  took  the  bottle  in  her  hand. 

The  glass  into  the  other, 
She  filled  it  up  with  blood-red  wine. 

Until  it  ran  quite  over. 
She  drank  a  health  to  her  love  on  the  stair. 

Saying,  When  shall  we  two  marry  ? 
Or  when  shall  we  two  meet  again. 

On  purpose  for  to  marry  ? 

7  '  0  when  shall  we  two  meet  again  ? 

Or  when  shall  we  two  marry  ? ' 
'  When  cockle-shells  grow  siller  bells ; 
No  longer  must  I  tarry.' 


Jamieson,  Popular  Ballads,  II,  158,  as  often  heard  by  him 
in  Morayshire. 

1  There  cam  a  trooper  frae  the  west. 
And  he 's  ridden  till  his  deary  ; 
*  It 's  open  and  lat  me  in,'  he  says, 
For  I  am  wet  and  weary.' 


*  Whan  heather-cows  turn  owsen-bows, 

It 's  then  that  we  '11  be  married.' 

'  O  whan  sail  we  be  married,  love  ? 
O  when  sail  we  be  married  ? ' 

*  When  cockle-shells  turn  siller  bells, 

It 's  then  that  we  '11  be  married.' 


2  *  O  whan  sail  we  be  married,  love  ? 
O  whan  sail  we  be  married  ?  ' 


*  Whan  the  sun  and  moon  dance  on  the  green. 
It  *8  then  that  we  '11  be  married.' 


A.  5*.  Lewas.     5*.  lea  you  now. 

B.  4^  threw  ?  Motherwell.     4'.  gard. 

C.  The  verses  are  given  incidentally  in  a  preface 

to  another  ballad.    Between  1  and  2 :  The 
kind  fair  one  puts  his  horse  into  the  stable 


and  takes  himself  to  her  bower,  where  she 
gives  him  '  the  good  white  bread  and  blood- 
red  wine,'  and  a  part  of  her  bed.  In  the 
morning,  when  he  proposes  to  depart,  she 
naturally  enough  asks  [as  in  st.  2]. 


300.  BLANCHEFLOUR  AUD  JELLYFLOKICE 


175 


300 

BLANCHEFLOUR  AND  JELLYFLORICE 

'  Blancheflour  and  Jellyflorice/  Buchan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  I,  125  ;  Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  588. 


A  MAID  who  has  been  some  years  in  a  lady's 
service  aspires  to  something  higher ;  she  seeks 
and  obtains  a  place  with  a  queen,  '  to  sew  the 
seams  of  silk.'  The  queen  warns  her  to  keep 
herself  from  the  young  prince,  but  the  pair 
become  familiar,  and  the  queen  has  her 
mounted  on  a  wild  horse  without  a  bridle,  ex- 
pecting to  dispose  of  her  summarily  in  this 
way.  But  the  prince  takes  her  from  the 
horse  and  declares  that  he  will  marry  her 
within  the  month. 

Buchan  suspects  that  some  "  poetaster " 
has  remodelled  the  story  of  the  romance  of 
Florice  and  Blancheflour,  "  modernizing  it  to 


suit  the  climate  of  his  time,"  that  is,  perhaps, 
turning  a  princess  into  a  sempstress.  The 
only  thing  in  the  romance  that  is  even  re- 
motely like  what  we  find  in  the  ballad  is  that 
Florice  saves  Blancheflour  from  the  death 
which  his  father  had  contrived  for  her  in 
order  to  part  the  lovers,  and  this  passage  does 
not  occur  in  the  English  versions  of  the  ro- 
mance. 

There  is  a  Flemish  ballad,  so  to  call  it, 
composed  from  the  romance:  Coussemaker, 
p.  177,  No  51,  Baecker,  Chansons  historiques 
de  la  Flandre,  p.  121 ;  Oude  Liedekens  in 
Bladeren,  L.  van  Paemel,  Gend,  No  17. 


1  There  was  a  maid,  richly  arrayd, 

In  robes  were  rare  to  see, 
For  seven  years  and  something  mair 
She  servd  a  gay  ladle. 

2  But  being  fond  o  a  higher  place, 

In  service  she  thought  lang  ; 
She  took  her  mantle  her  about, 
Her  coffer  by  the  band. 

8  And  as  she  walkd  by  the  shore-side, 
As  blythe  's  a  bird  on  tree, 
Yet  still  she  gaz'd  her  round  about, 
To  see  what  she  could  see. 

4  At  last  she  spied  a  little  castle, 

That  stood  near  by  the  sea  ; 

She  spied  it  far  and  drew  it  near, 

To  that  castle  went  she.       ' 

5  And  when  she  came  to  that  castle 

She  tirled  at  the  pin, 
And  ready  stood  a  little  wee  boy 
To  lat  this  fair  maid  in. 

6  *  O  who 's  the  owner  of  this  place, 

O  porter-boy,  tell  me ;  ' 


*  This  place  belongs  unto  a  queen 

0  birth  and  high  degree.' 

7  She  put  her  hand  in  her  pocket, 

And  gae  him  shillings  three : 

*  O  porter,  bear  my  message  well 

Unto  the  queen  frae  me.* 

8  The  porter 's  gane  before  the  queen, 

Fell  low  down  on  his  knee : 

*  Win  up,  win  up,  my  porter-boy. 

What  makes  this  courtesie  ?  ' 

9  *  I  hae  been  porter  at  your  yetts, 

My  dame,  these  years  full  three, 
But  see  a  ladie  at  your  yetts 
The  fairest  my  eyes  did  see.' 

10  *  Cast  up  my  yetts  baith  wide  and  braid, 

Lat  her  come  in  to  me. 
And  I  '11  know  by  her  courtesie 
Lord's  daughter  if  she  be.' 

11  When  she  came  in  before  the  queen, 

Fell  low  down  on  her  knee  : 

*  Service  frae  you,  my  dame  the  queen, 

1  pray  you  grant  it  me.' 


176 


301.    THE  QUEEN   OF  SCOTLAND 


12  *  If  that  service  ye  now  do  want, 

What  station  will  ye  be  ? 
Can  ye  card  wool,  or  spin,  fair  maid, 
Or  milk  the  cows  to  me  ?  * 

13  *No,  I  can  neither  card  nor  spin, 

Nor  cows  I  canno  milk, 
But  sit  into  a  lady's  bower 
And  sew  the  seams  o  silk.' 

14  *  What  is  your  name,  ye  comely  dame? 

Pray  tell  this  unto  me  : ' 
♦  O  Blancheflour,  that  is  my  name, 
Born  in  a  strange  countrie.' 

15  '  O  keep  ye  well  frae  Jellyflorice  — 

My  ain  dear  son  is  he  — 
When  other  ladies  get  a  gift, 
O  that  ye  shall  get  three.' 

16  It  wasna  tald  into  the  bower 

Till  it  went  thro  the  ha, 
That  Jellyflorice  and  Blancheflour 
Were  grown  ower  great  witha. 

17  When  the  queen's  maids  their  visits  paid, 

Upo  the  gude  Yule-day, 


When  other  ladies  got  horse  to  ride, 
She  boud  take  foot  and  gae. 

18  The  queen  she  calld  her  stable-groom, 

To  come  to  her  right  seen  ; 
Says,  Ye  '11  take  out  yon  wild  waith  steed 
And  bring  him  to  the  green. 

19  *  Ye  '11  take  the  bridle  frae  his  head, 

The  lighters  t rae  his  een  ; 
Ere  she  ride  three  times  roun  the  cross. 
Her  weel-days  will  be  dune." 

20  Jellyflorice  his  true-love  spy'd 

As  she  rade  roun  the  cross, 
And  thrice  he  kissd  her  lovely  lips, 
And  took  her  frae  her  horse. 

21  *  Gang  to  your  bower,  my  lily-flower. 

For  a'  my  mother's  spite ; 
There  's  nae  other  amang  her  maids. 
In  whom  I  take  delight. 

22  '  Ye  are  my  jewel,  and  only  ane, 

Nane  's  do  you  injury  ; 
For  ere  this-day-month  come  and  gang 
My  wedded  wife  ye  'se  be.' 


301 
THE  QUEEN  OF  SCOTLAND 

'The  Queen  of  Scotland,'  Buchan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  I,  46  ;  Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  577. 


A  QUEEN  in  the  king's  absence  invites 
young  Troy  Muir  to  her  bower  and  bed  ;  he 
declines,  and  the  queen  resolves  to  do  him  an 
ill  turn.  She  tells  him  that  if  he  will  lift  a 
stone  in  the  garden  he  will  find  in  a  pit  under 
the  stone  gold  enough  to  buy  him  a  dukedom. 
The  next  morning  Troy  Muir  lifts  the  stone, 
and  a  long-starved  serpent  winds  itself  round 
his  middle.  A  maid  comes  by  and  allays  the 
serpent's  rage  by  cutting  ofiE  her  pap  for  him. 


Troy  Muir  is  immediately  released  and  the 
wound  in  the  maid's  breast  heals  in  an  hour. 
Troy  Muir  marries  the  maid  the  same  day ; 
she  bears  him  a  son,  and  by  heaven's  grace 
recovers  her  pap  thereupon. 

The  insipid  ballad  may  have  been  rhymed 
from  some  insipid  tale.  Motherwell  conjec- 
tured that  Troy  Muir  stands  for  Triamour, 
but  the  story  here  has  no  sort  of  resemblance 
to  the  romance. 


1  '  0  Trot  Mum,  my  lily-flower, 
An  asking  I  '11  ask  thee ; 
Will  ye  come  to  my  bigley  bower 
And  drink  the  wine  wi  me  ? ' 


2  *  My  dame,  this  is  too  much  honour 
You  have  conf errd  on  me ; 
I'm  sure  it 's  mair  than  I  've  deservd 
Frae  sic  a  one  as  thee.' 


301.    THE  QUEEN  OF  SCOTLAND 


177 


3  '  In  Reekie's  towers  I  has  a  bower, 

And  pictures  round  it  set ; 
There  is  a  bed  that  is  well  made, 
Where  you  and  I  shall  sleep.' 

4  '  0  God  forbid,'  this  youth  then  said, 

*  That  ever  I  drie  sic  blame 
As  ever  to  touch  the  queen's  bodie, 
Altho  the  king  's  frae  hame.' 

5  When  that  he  had  these  words  spoken. 

She  secretly  did  say. 
Some  evil  I  shall  work  this  man, 
Before  that  it  be  day. 

6  Whan  a'  her  maids  were  gane  to  bed, 

And  knights  were  gane  frae  hame, 
She  calld  upon  young  Troy  Muir, 
To  put  fire  in  her  room. 

7  *  An  asking,  asking,  Troy  Muir, 

An  asking  ye  '11  grant  me  ; ' 
*  O,  if  it  be  a  lawful  thing, 
My  dame  it 's  granted  be.' 

8  '  There  is  a  stane  in  yon  garden, 

Nae  ane  lifts  it  for  me ; 
But  if  that  ye  woud  lift  the  same, 
A  brave  man  I  '11  ca  thee. 

9  *  Under  yon  stane  there  is  a  pit, 

Most  dreary  for  to  see, 
And  in  it  there  's  as  much  red  gowd 
As  buy  a  dukedom  to  thee.' 

10  *  O  if  I  had  ae  sleep  in  bed. 
And  saw  the  morning  sun, 
As  soon  's  I  rise  and  see  the  skies, 
Your  will  it  shall  be  done.' 


11  When  birds  did  sing,  and  sun  did  rise. 

And  sweetly  sang  the  lark, 

Troy  Muir  to  the  garden  went. 

To  work  this  dreary  wark. 

12  He 's  taen  the  stane  then  by  a  ring, 

And  lifted  manf ullie ; 
A  serpent  that  lang  wanted  meat 
Round  Troy  Muir's  middle  did  flee. 

13  '  How  shall  I  get  rid  o  this  foul  beast  ? 

It 's  by  it  I  must  dee ; 
I  never  thought  the  queen,  ray  friend, 
Woud  work  this  mischief  to  me.' 

14  But  by  there  came  a  weelfaird  may. 

As  Troy  Muir  did  tauk, 
The  serpent's  furious  rage  to  lay. 
Cut  a£E  her  fair  white  pap. 

15  As  soon  as  she  the  same  had  done. 

Young  Troy  Muir  was  set  free, 
And  in  ane  hour  the  wound  was  heald, 
That  nae  mair  pain  had  she. 

16  Says  Troy  Muir,  My  lily-flower, 

Ye  hae  released  me ; 
But  before  I  see  another  day. 
My  wedded  wife  ye  'se  be. 

17  He  married  her  on  that  same  day. 

Brought  her  to  his  ain  hame ; 
A  lovely  son  to  him  she  bare. 

When  full  nine  months  were  gane. 

18  As  heaven  was  pleasd,  in  a  short  time. 

To  ease  her  first  sad  pain, 
Sae  was  it  pleasd,  when  she  'd  a  son, 
To  hae  a  pap  again. 


178 


302.    YOUNG  BEABWELL 


302 
YOUNG  BEARWELL 

'Young  Beaxwell,'  Buchan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  II,  75  ;'  Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  456,  derived  from 

Buchan  ;  Motherwell's  Minstrelsy,  p.  345. 


This  is  one  of  half  a  dozen  pieces  sent 
Buchan  by  Mr  Nicol  of  Strichen,  "  who  wrote 
them  from  memory  as  he  had  learned  them  in 
his  earlier  years  from  old  people."  It  is  also 
one  of  not  a  few  flimsy  and  un jointed  ballads 
found  in  Buchan's  volumes,  the  like  of  which 
is  hardly  to  be  found  elsewhere,  that  require 
a  respectable  voucher,  such  as  Mr  Nicol  un- 
doubtedly was,  for  the  other  five  pieces  com- 
municated by  him  were  all  above  suspicion, 
and  have  a  considerable  value.  It  will  not, 
however,  help  the  ballad  much  that  it  was 
not  palmed  off  on  Buchan  in  jest  or  other- 
wise, or  even  if  it  was  learned  from  an  old 
person  by  Mr  Nicol  in  his  youth.  The  in- 
trinsic character  of  the  ballad  remains,  and 
old  people  have  sometimes  burdened  their 
memory  with  worthless  things. 

Young  Bearwell  and  a  mayor's  daughter 
are  lovers.  Seeing  him  coming  along  one  day, 
the  lady  tells  him  that  there  are  such  reports 
in  circulation  about  him  that  he  will  have  to 
sail  the  sea  beyond  Yorkisfauld,  which  may 
be  beyond  Ultima  Thule  for  aught  we  know. 
Bearwell' s  life  is  in  danger  where  he  is,  and 
the  lady  has  had  the  forethought  to  build  him 
a  ship,  in  which  she  sends  him  off.     By  the 


process  of  sailing  both  east  and  west  and  then 
meeting  wind  from  the  north,  he  is  blown  to  a 
land  where  the  king  and  court,  who  pass  their 
time  mostly  in  playing  ball,  put  a  harp  into  the 
hand  of  every  stranger  and  invite  him  to  stay 
and  play.  Bearwell  stays,  and  perhaps  plays, 
twelve  months.  During  this  time  the  lady  is 
so  beset  with  suitors  that  she  feels  constrained 
to  apply  to  a  young  skipper  named  Heyvalin 
to  fetch  her  true-love  back.  To  do  this  he 
must  sail  first  east,  then  west,  and  then  have 
a  blast  of  north  wind  to  blow  him  to  the  land. 
All  this  comes  to  pass ;  the  king  and  court 
are  playing  ball,  but  immediately  put  a  harp 
into  Heyvalin's  hand  and  urge  him  to  stay 
and  play.  Skipper  though  he  be,  he  falls  to 
playing,  and  finds  Bearwell  the  first  man  in 
all  the  company. 

"  From  circumstances,"  which  do  not  occur 
to  me,  Motherwell  would  almost  be  inclined 
to  trace  this  piece  to  a  Danish  source,  "  or  it 
may  be  an  episode  of  some  forgotten  metrical 
romance."  It  may  also,  and  more  probably, 
be  the  effort  of  some  amateur  ballad-monger 
in  northern  Scotland  whose  imagination  was 
unequal  to  the  finishing  of  the  inane  story 
which  he  had  undertaken. 


1  When  two  lovers  love  each  other  well. 

Great  sin  it  were  them  to  twinn  ; 
And  this  I  speak  from  Young  Bearwell ; 

He  loved  a  lady  young, 
The  Mayor's  daughter  of  Birktoun-brae, 

That  lovely,  leesome  thing. 

2  One  day  when  she  was  looking  out, 

When  washing  her  milk-white  hands, 


That  she  beheld  him  Yoimg  BearweU, 
As  he  came  in  the  sands. 

3  Says,  Wae  's  me  for   you,  Yoimg  Bear- 
well, 
Such  tales  of  you  are  tauld  ; 
They  '11   cause  you  sail  the  salt  sea  so 
far 
As  beyond  Yorkisfauld. 


303.    THE  HOLY  NUNNERY 


179 


4 


*  O  shall  I  bide  in  good  greenwood, 
Or  stay  in  bower  with  thee  ? ' 

5  '  The  leaves  are  thick  in  good  greenwood, 

Would  hold  you  from  the  rain  t 
And  if  you  stay  in  bower  with  me 
You  will  be  taken  and  slain. 

6  '  But  I  caused  build  a  ship  for  you 

Upon  Saint  Innocent's  day ; 
I  '11  bid  Saint  Innocent  be  your  guide, 

And  Our  Lady,  that  meikle  may. 
You  are  a  lady's  first  true-love, 

God  carry  you  well  away ! ' 

7  Then  he  sailed  east,  and  he  sailed  west, 

By  many  a  comely  strand ; 
At  length  a  puff  of  northern  wind 
Did  blow  him  to  the  land. 

8  When  he  did  see  the  king  and  court. 

Were  playing  at  the  ba ; 
Gave  him  a  harp  into  his  hand, 
Says,  Stay,  Bearwell,  and  play. 

9  He  had  not  been  in  the  king's  court 

A  twelvemonth  and  a  day. 
Till  there  came  lairds  and  lords  anew 
To  court  that  lady  gay. 

10  They  wooed  her  with  brooch  and  ring, 
They  nothing  could  keep  back ; 


The  very  charters  of  their  lands 
Into  her  hands  they  pat. 

11  She  's  done  her  down  to  Heyvalin, 

With  the  light  of  the  moon ; 
Says,  Will  ye  do  this  deed  for  me, 
And  will  ye  do  it  soon  ? 

12  '  Will  ye  go  seek  him  Young  Bearwell, 

On  seas  wherever  he  be  ? 
And  if  I  live  and  bruik  my  life 
Rewarded  ye  shall  be.' 

13  '  Alas,  I  am  too  young  a  skipper, 

So  far  to  sail  the  f aem  ; 
But  if  I  live  and  bruik  my  life 
I  'U  strive  to  bring  him  hame.' 

14  So  he  has  saild  east  and  then  saild  west, 

By  many  a  comely  strand, 
Till  there  came  a  blast  of  northern  wind 
And  blew  him  to  the  land. 

15  And  there  the  king  and  all  his  court 

Were  playing  at  the  ba ; 
Gave  him  a  harp  into  his  hand. 
Says,  Stay,  Heyvalin,  and  play. 

16  He  has  tane  up  the  harp  in  hand, 

And  unto  play  went  he. 
And  Young  Bearwell  was  the  first  man 
In  all  that  companie. 


303 

THE  HOLY  NUNNERY 

*  The  Holy  Nunnery,'  Buchan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  I,  193. 


Willie's  father  and  mother  have  vowed 
that  he  shall  never  marry  Annie.  Annie  re- 
solves that  she  will  be  a  nun,  asks  her  father's 
consent  and  obtains  it  readily.  At  the  nun- 
nery-gate there  is  a  maiden  porter  '  wi  gowd 


upon  her  hat,'  who  would  not  have  been  quite 
out  of  place  at  the  wicket  of  the  garden  of  tlie 
Rose.  Porter  though  she  be,  she  seems  to 
exercise  the  authority  of  a  mother-superior. 
Annie  asks  admission,  '  there  to  live  or  die,' 


180 


303.    THE  HOLY  NUNNERY 


and  is  allowed  to  come  in  on  terms  :  never  to 
kiss  a  young  man's  mouth,  and  to  work  hard; 
conditions  not  surprising,  but  there  is  another 
which  is  unusual,  never  to  go  to  church  (or  is 
it  Kirk  that  is  meant?)  Annie  is  seven  years 
in  the  nunnery,  all  which  time  Willie  lies  lan- 
guishing. His  mother  asks  him  if  there  is 
nothing  that  would  help  him ;  there  is  nothing, 
he  says,  but  his  love  Annie.  They  dress  him 
up  like  a  lady,  in  silk  and  gold,  he  goes  to  the 


nunnery-gate,  and  the  maiden  porter  '  wi 
gowd  upon  her  hat '  makes  no  difficulty  about 
letting  him  in.  Annie  knows  him,  and  says. 
Come  up,  my  sister  dear.  Willie  essays  to 
kiss  her  lips,  but  she  whispers.  This  I  dare 
not  avow.  The  rest  is  wanting,  and  again 
we  may  doubt  whether  the  balladist  had  not 
exhausted  himself,  whether  a  story  so  begun 
could  be  brought  to  any  conclusion. 


1  Fair  Annie  had  a  costly  bower, 

Well  built  wi  lime  and  stane, 
And  Willie  came  to  visit  her, 
Wi  the  light  o  the  meen. 

2  When  he  came  to  Annie's  bower-door, 

He  tirled  at  the  pin : 
'  Ye  sleep  ye,  wake  ye,  Fair  Annie, 
Ye  'U  open,  lat  me  come  in.' 

3  '  O  never  a  fit,'  says  Fair  Annie, 

'  Till  I  your  errand  ken  ; ' 

*  My  father  's  vowd  a  vow,  Annie, 

I  '11  tell  you  when  I  'm  in. 

4  *  My  father 's  vowed  a  rash  vow, 

I  darena  marry  thee  ; 
My  mither  's  vowed  anither  vow. 
My  bride  ye  'se  never  be.' 

5  *  If  ye  had  tauld  me  that,  Willie, 

When  we  began  to  woo, 
There  was  naithing  in  this  warld  wide 
Shoud  drawn  my  love  to  you. 

6  '  A  nun,  a  nun,'  said  Fair  Annie, 

'  A  nun  will  I  be  then  ; ' 

*  A  priest,  a  priest,'  said  Sweet  Willie, 

*  A  priest  wUl  I  be  syne.' 

7  She  is  gane  to  her  father. 

For  mither  she  had  nane  ; 
And  she  is  on  to  her  father, 
To  see  if  she  'd  be  a  nun. 

8  '  An  asking,  asking,  father  dear. 

An  asking  ye  '11  grant  me  ; 
That 's  to  get  to  the  holy  nunnery. 
And  there  to  live  or  die.' 


9  *  Your  asking 's  nae  sae  great,  daughter. 
But  granted  it  shall  be ; 
For  ye  'se  won  to  the  holy  nunnery. 
There  to  live  or  die.' 

10  Then  they  gaed  on,  and  farther  on. 

Till  they  came  to  the  yate ; 
And  there  they  spied  a  maiden  porter, 
Wi  gowd  upon  her  hat. 

11  '  An  asking,  asking,  maiden  porter, 

An  asking  ye  '11  grant  me ; 
If  I  '11  won  to  the  holy  nunnery. 
There  to  live  or  die.' 

12  '  Your  asking 's  nae  sae  great,  lady. 

But  granted  it  shall  be  ; 
For  ye  'se  won  to  the  holy  nunnery. 
There  to  live  or  die. 

13  '  But  ye  maun  vow  a  vow,  lady. 

Before  that  ye  seek  in ; 
Never  to  kiss  a  young  man's  mouth 
That  goes  upon  the  grun. 

14  '  And  ye  must  vow  anither  vow, 

Severely  ye  must  work ; 
The  well-warst  vow  that  ye  're  to  vow, 
Is  never  to  gang  to  kirk.' 

15  '  I  will  vow  a  vow,'  she  said, 

'  Before  that  I  seek  in  ; 
I  neer  shall  kiss  a  young  man's  mouth 
That  goes  upon  the  grun. 

16  '  And  I  will  vow  anither  vow. 

Severely  I  will  work  ; 
The  well-warst  vow  that  I  'm  to  vow 
Is  never  to  gang  to  kirk.' 


304.    YOUNG  RONALD 


181 


17  For  seven  years  now  Fair  Annie, 

In  the  holy  nunnery  lay  she, 
And  seven  years  Sweet  Willie  lay, 
In  languish  like  to  die. 

18  '  Is  there  nae  duke  nor  lord's  daughter, 

My  son,  can  comfort  thee, 
And  save  thee  frae  the  gates  o  death  ? 
Is  there  nae  remedie  ? ' 

19  *  There  is  nae  duke  nor  lord's  daughter, 

Mother,  can  comfort  me, 
Except  it  be  my  love,  Annie, 
In  the  holy  nunnery  lies  she.' 

20  They  've  dressd  Sweet  Willie  up  in  silk, 

Wi  gowd  his  gown  did  shine, 
And  nane  coud  ken  by  his  pale  face 
But  he  was  a  lady  fine. 

21  So  they  gaed  on,  and  farther  on, 

Till  they  came  to  the  yate. 


And  there  they  spied  a  maiden  porter, 
Wi  gowd  upon  her  hat. 

22  *  An  asking,  an  asking,  maiden  porter, 

An  asking  ye  'U  grant  me ; 
For  to  win  in  to  the  holy  nunnery, 
Fair  Annie  for  to  see.' 

23  '  Your  asking 's  nae  sae  great,  lady. 

But  granted  it  shall  be ; 
Ye  'se  won  into  the  holy  nunnery, 
Fair  Annie  for  to  see. 

24  '  Be  she  duke's  or  lord's  daughter. 

It 's  lang  sin  she  came  here : ' 
Fair  Annie  kent  her  true  love's  face ; 
Says,  Come  up,  my  sister  dear. 

25  Sweet  Willie  went  to  kiss  her  lips. 

As  he  had  wont  to  do ; 
But  she  softly  whispered  him, 
I  darena  this  avow. 


304 

YOUNG  RONALD 

Buchan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  II,  282 ;  Motherwell's  MS.,  p.  601,  derived  from  Buchan. 


Young  Ronald,  a  noble  squire,  but  still 
school-boy  (11,  29),  lays  his  love  on  the 
daughter  of  the  king  of  Linne,  a  locality 
■which,  as  it  occurs  several  times  in  ballads, 
we  are  glad  to  learn  is  not  far  from  Windsor. 
In  the  course  of  an  interview  with  the  lady  in 
her  garden,  she  tells  him  that  though  she  en- 
tirely feels  the  honor  he  has  done  her,  she 
must  be  subject  to  her  father's  will.  Ronald's 
father  and  mother  are  greatly  concerned  for 
their  son,  seeing  that  the  lady  has  already 
rejected  many  suitors.  He  pays  his  love  a 
second  visit,  and  protests  that  for  her  sake  he 
would  fight  long  and  hard.  Be  not  too  hasty, 
she  answers  ;  you  must  buckle  with  a  more 
dangerous  foe  than  you  wot  of,  ere  you  win 


me  by  war.  She  proceeds  to  explain  that  her 
father  will  have  to  go  to  war  the  next  day 
with  a  giant  who  has  been  very  troublesome, 
and  then  to  make  him  various  offers  with  the 
view  of  enlisting  him  in  the  affair ;  among 
which  are  two  standard  rings,  one  of  which 
will  stanch  the  blood  of  any  of  his  men  who 
may  be  hurt,  the  other  prevent  the  drawing 
of  his  own  blood. 

Young  Ronald  reports  to  his  father  the  en- 
couragement which  he  has  received  from  his 
love,  the  impending  contest  with  the  giant, 
and  the  gifts  which  she  has  made  him  ;  and 
the  father,  on  his  part,  promises  him  a  com- 
pany of  a  hundred  well-armed  men.  Sup- 
ported by  these,  and  invigorated  by  a  third 


182 


304.    YOUNG  RONALD 


meeting  in  the  garden,  Ronald  rides  proudly 
to  the  field.  The  giant,  who  is  handicapped 
with  three  heads  on  his  neck,  and  three  more 
on  his  breast,  challenges  the  king  of  Linne 
to  combat,  and  the  king  offers  his  daughter 
and  a  third  of  his  lands  to  any  champion  who 
will  undertake  the  giant.  Ronald  is  ready, 
and,  according  to  the  rule  in  such  cases,  dis- 
dains the  offer  of  any  reward  but  the  daugh- 
ter. The  thought  of  her  gives  him  a  lion's 
courage,  and  such  potency  to  his  arm  that  he 
cuts  off  all  the  six  heads  of  the  giant  at  one 
sweep. 

If  any  lover  of  ballads  should  feel  his  un- 
derstanding insulted  by  the  presentation  of 
such  a  piece  as  this,  I  can  have  no  quarrel 


with  him.  There  is  certainly  much  in  it  that 
is  exasperating,  —  the  greeters  in  the  school, 
the  lifting  of  the  hat,  and,  most  of  all,  per- 
haps, the  mint  in  meadows.  These  are,  how- 
ever, the  writer's  own  property ;  the  nicking 
with  nay  and  the  giant  are  borrowed  from 
romances.  In  this  and  not  a  very  few  other 
cases,  I  have  suppressed  disgust,  and  admitted 
an  actually  worthless  and  a  manifestly  —  at 
least  in  part  —  spurious  ballad,  because  of  a 
remote  possibility  that  it  might  contain  relics, 
or  be  a  debased  representative,  of  something 
genuine  and  better.  Such  was  the  advice  of 
my  lamented  friend,  Grundtvig,  in  more  in- 
stances than  those  in  which  I  have  brought 
myself  to  defer  to  his  judgment. . 


1  It  fell  upon  the  Lammas  time, 

"When  flowers  were  fresh  and  green, 
And  craig  and  cleugh  was  covered  ower 
With  cloathing  that  was  clean. 

2  'T  was  at  that  time  a  noble  squire, 

Sprung  from  an  ancient  line, 
Laid  his  love  on  a  lady  fair, 
The  king's  daughter  o  Linne. 

3  When  cocks  did  craw,  and  day  did  daw, 

And  mint  in  meadows  sprang, 
Young  Ronald  and  his  little  wee  boy 
They  rode  the  way  alang. 

4  So  they  rode  on,  and  farther  on. 

To  yonder  pleasant  green, 
And  there  he  spied  that  lady  fair, 
In  her  garden  alane. 

5  These  two  together  lang  they  stood, 

And  love's  tale  there  they  taul ; 
The  glancing  o  her  fair  color 
Did  Ronald's  own  impale. 

6  He  lifted 's  bat,  and  thus  he  spake ; 

O  pity  have  on  me ! 
For  I  could  pledge  what  is  my  right, 
All  for  the  sake  of  thee. 

7  '  Ye  're  young  amo  your  mirth,  kind  sir, 

And  fair  o  your  dull  hours ; 


There  's  nae  a  lady  in  a'  London 
But  might  be  your  paramour. 

8  *  But  I  'm  too  young  to  wed,  kind  sir, 

You  must  not  take  it  ill ; 
Whate'er  my  father  bids  me  do, 
I  maun  be  at  his  will.' 

9  He  kissd  her  then  and  took  his  leave, 

His  heart  was  all  in  pride, 
And  he  is  on  to  Windsor  gone, 
And  his  boy  by  his  side. 

10  And  when  he  unto  Windsor  came, 

And  lighted  on  the  green, 
There  he  spied  his  mother  dear, 
Was  walking  there  alane. 

11  '  Where  have  ye  been,  my  son,  Ronald, 

From  gude  school-house,  this  day  ? ' 
*  I  hae  been  at  Linne,  mother, 
Seeing  yon  bonny  may.' 

12  '  O  wae  's  me  for  you  now,  Ronald, 

For  she  will  not  you  hae ; 
For  mony  a  knight  and  bauld  baron 
She 's  nickd  them  a'  wi  nae.' 

13  Young  Ronald  's  done  him  to  his  bower. 

And  he  took  bed  and  lay ; 
Nae  woman  could  come  in  his  sight, 
For  the  thoughts  o  this  well-fard  may. 


304.    YOUNG  RONALD 


183 


14  Then  in  it  came  his  father  dear, 

Well  belted  in  a  brand ; 
The  tears  ran  frae  his  twa  gray  eyes, 
All  for  his  lovely  son. 

15  Then  Ronald  calld  his  stable-groom 

To  come  right  speedilie ; 
Says,  Ye  '11  gang  to  yon  stable,  boy, 
And  saddle  a  steed  for  me. 

16  '  His  saddle  o  the  guid  red  gowd. 

His  bits  be  o  the  steel, 
His  bridle  o  a  glittering  hue  ; 
See  that  ye  saddle  him  weel. 

17  *  For  I  've  heard  greeters  at  your  school-house, 

Near  thirty  in  a  day ; 
But  for  to  hear  an  auld  man  greet, 
It  passes  bairns'  play.' 

18  When  cocks  did  craw,  and  day  did  daw, 

And  mint  in  meadows  sprang, 
Young  Ronald  and  his  little  wee  boy 
The  way  they  rode  alang. 

19  So  they  rode  on,  and  further  on, 

To  yonder  pleasant  green. 
And  there  they  saw  that  lady  fair, 
In  her  garden  alane. 

20  And  twenty  times  before  he  ceasd 

He  kissd  her  lips  sae  clear. 
And  said,  Dear  lady,  for  your  sake, 
I  '11  fight  fell  lang  and  sair. 

21  '  Full  haste,  nae  speed,  for  me,  kind  sir,* 

Replied  the  lady  clear  ; 
'  Far  better  buddings  ye  maun  bide 
Or  ye  gain  my  love  by  weir. 

22  *  King  Honour  is  my  father's  name. 

The  morn  to  war  maun  fare. 
And  that 's  to  fight  a  proud  giant, 
That 's  wrought  him  muckle  care. 

23  '  Along  wi  him  he  is  to  take 

Baith  noble  knights  and  squires ; 
I  woud  wish  you  as  well-dressd  a  knight 
As  ony  will  be  there. 

24  '  And  I  '11  gie  you  a  thousand  crowns. 

To  part  amang  your  men ; 
A  robe  upon  your  ain  body, 
Weel  sewd  wi  my  ain  hand. 


25  '  Likewise  a  ring,  a  royal  thing, 

The  virtue  it  is  gude  ; 
If  ony  o  your  men  be  hurt. 
It  soon  will  stem  their  blude. 

26  '  Another  ring,  a  royal  thing. 

Whose  jirirtue  is  well  known  ; 
As  lang  's  this  ring  your  body  's  on, 
Your  bluid  shall  neer  be  drawn.' 

27  He  kissd  her  then,  and  took  his  leave. 

His  heart  was  all  in  pride. 
And  he  is  on  to  Windsor  gone. 
And  his  boy  by  his  side. 

28  And  when  he  unto  Windsor  came, 

And  lighted  on  the  green. 
There  he  saw  his  auld  father, 
Was  walking  him  alane. 

29  '  Where  hae  ye  been,  my  son,  Ronald, 

From  gude  school-house  the  day  ? ' 
'  O  I  hae  been  at  Linne,  father, 
Seeking  yon  bonny  may.' 

30  *  O  wae  's  me  for  you  now,  Ronald, 

For  she  will  not  you  hae  ; 
Mony  a  knight  and  bauld  baron 
She 's  nickd  them  a'  wi  nay.' 

31  '  O  had  your  tongue,  my  father  dear, 

Lat  a'  your  folly  be ; 
The  last  words  that  I  wi  her  spake. 
Her  love  was  granted  me. 

32  '  King  Honour  is  her  father's  name, 

The  morn  to  war  maun  fare, 
And  that 's  to  fight  a  proud  giant. 
That 's  wrought  him  muckle  care. 

33  *  Alang  wi  him  he  means  to  take 

Baith  knights  and  noble  squires ; 
And  she  wishes  me  as  well  drest  a  knight 
As  ony  will  be  there. 

34  '  And  she  's  gaen  me  a  thousand  crowns. 

To  part  amang  my  men  ; 
A  robe  upon  my  ain  body, 
Weel  sewd  wi  her  ain  hand. 

35  '  Likewise  a  ring,  a  royal  thing. 

The  virtue  it  is  gude  ; 
If  ony  o  my  men  be  hurt. 
It  soon  will  stem  their  blude. 


184 


304.    YOUNG  RONALD 


36  '  Another  ring,  a  royal  thing, 

Whose  virtue  is  unknown  ; 
As  lang  's  this  ring  my  body  's  on, 
My  blude  will  neer  be  drawn.' 

37  •  K  that  be  true,  my  son,  Eonald, 

That  ye  hae  tauld  to  me, 
I  'U  gie  to  you  an  hundred  men, 
To  bear  you  companie. 

38  '  Besides  as  muckle  gnade  harness 

As  carry  them  on  the  lee ; 
It  is  a  company  gude  enough 
For  sic  a  squire  as  thee.' 

39  When  cocks  did  craw,  and  day  did  daw. 

And  mint  in  meadows  spread, 
Young  Ronald  and  his  merry  young  men 
Were  ready  for  to  ride. 

40  So  they  rode  on,  and  farther  on, 

To  yonder  pleasant  green, 
And  there  they  spied  that  lady  fair. 
In  her  garden,  sair  mourning. 

41  These  twa  together  lang  they  stood, 

And  love's  tale  there  they  taul. 
Till  her  father  and  his  merry  young  men 
Had  ridden  seven  mile. 

42  He  kissd  her  then,  and  took  his  leave, 

His  heart  was  all  in  pride, 
And  then  he  sprang  alang  the  road 
As  sparks  do  frae  the  gleed. 

43  Then  to  his  great  steed  he  set  spur ; 

He  being  swift  o  feet, 


They  soon  arrived  on  the  plain. 
Where  all  the  rest  did  meet. 

44  Then  flew  the  foul  thief  frae  the  west. 

His  make  was  never  seen ; 
He  had  three  heads  upon  ae  hause, 
Three  heads  on  ae  breast-bane. 

45  He  bauldly  stept  up  to  the  king, 

Seiz'd  's  steed  in  his  right  hand ; 
Says,  Here  I  am,  a  valiant  man, 
Fight  me  now  if  ye  can. 

46  '  Where  is  the  man  in  a'  my  train 

Will  take  this  deed  in  hand  ? 
And  he  shall  hae  my  daughter  dear, 
And  third  part  o  my  land.' 

47  '  O  here  am  I,'  said  young  Ronald, 

'  Will  take  the  deed  in  hand ; 
And  ye  '11  gie  me  your  daughter  dear, 
I  '11  seek  nane  o  your  land.' 

48  '  I  woudna  for  my  life,  Ronald, 

This  day  I  left  you  here  ; 
Remember  ye  yon  lady  gay 
For  you  shed  mony  a  tear.' 

49  Fan  he  did  mind  on  that  lady 

That  he  left  him  behind. 

He  hadna  mair  fear  to  fight 

Nor  a  lion  frae  a  chain. 

50  Then  he  cut  aff  the  giant's  heads 

Wi  ae  sweep  o  his  hand, 
Gaed  hame  and  married  that  lady. 
And  heird  her  father's  laud. 


5*.  collar. 

6*.  one  for  own. 

14^  and  a. 


26''.  ring 's  :  tf.  36». 
33^  I  mean :  cf.  2Z\ 
36^  Which :  cf.  26». 


305.    THE  OUTLAW  MURRAY 


185 


305 

THE  OUTLAW  MURRAY 


A.  a.  '  The  Sang  of  the  Outlaw  Murray,'  Herd's 
MSS,  II,  fol.  76  ;  '  The  Outlaw  Murray,'  I,  255. 
b.  '  The  Sang  of  the  Outlaw  Murray,'  Scott's  Min- 
strelsy, second  edition,  1803,  I,  1.  c.  *  The  Song  of 
the  Outlaw  Murray,'  Aytoun's  Ballads  of  Scotland, 
1859,  II,  131,  "  from  an  old  manuscript  in  the  Philip- 
haugh  charter-chest."  d.  *  The  Sang  of  the  Outlaw 
Murray,'  the  copy  now  extant  among  the  Philiphaugh 
papers. 


B.  '  An  old  song  called  Outlaw  Murray,'  Glenriddell 
MSS,  XI,  61,  1791. 

C.  '  Outlaw  Murray,  an  antient  historical  ballad,*  frag- 
ments, "  Scotch  Ballads,  Materials  for  Border  Min- 
strelsy," No  31,  Abbotsford,  in  the  handwriting  of 
William  Laidlaw. 


First  printed  in  Scott's  Minstrelsy,  1802, 

1,1. 

A  a,  b,  c  (disregarding  Scott's  interpo- 
lations in  b),  do  not  differ  more  than  tran- 
scripts of  one  original  may  be  expected  to  do, 
remembering  that  copyists  are  apt  to  indulge 
in  trivial  verbal  improvements.*  a  was  sent 
David  Herd,  with  a  letter  dated  January  12, 
1795,  by  Andrew  Plummer,  Sheriff-Depute 
of  Selkirk,  as  received  by  carrier  from  a  lady, 
who  neglected  to  impart  how  she  came  by  the 
copy.  In  this  instance,  contrary  to  what  I 
believe  to  be  the  general  rule,  the  second  vol- 
ume of  Herd's  MSS  seems  to  have  the  origi- 
nal text.f  a  was  printed,  but  not  with  abso- 
lute fidelity,  by  Maidment,  Scotish  Ballads 
and  Songs,  1868,  H,  66.  For  b,  "  the  copy 
principally  resorted  to,"  says  Scott,  "is  one, 
apparently  of  considerable  antiquity,  which 
was  found  among  the  papers  of  the  late  Mrs 
Cockburn  of  Edinburgh."  Scott  made  oc- 
casional use  of  Herd's  MS.  and  of  Glenrid- 

*  That  the  four  copies  of  a  are  transcripts  from  writing, 
and  not  from  oral  recitation,  will  be  obvious  when  we  ob- 
serve their  correspondence.  The  first  thirty  stanzas  of  a,  b, 
have  the  same  lines  in  the  same  order,  and  with  an  approach 
to  verbal  agreement.  There  is  not  so  close  a  concurrence 
after  30,  but  still  a  virtual  concurrence,  excepting  that  b 
inserts  sixteen  lines  between  52  and  53  which  the  other 
copies  lack,  c  has  throughout  the  same  lines  as  a,  in  the 
same  order  (with  verbal  differences),  excepting  that  c  in- 
troduces two  lines  after  50*  (which  are  a  repetition,  with 
corruption,  of  Si-2),and  that  a  repeats  43  at  60,  which  c  does 
not.     d  has  only  a  few  verbal  variations  from  c. 

t  Plumraer's  letter  follows  the  ballad  in  the  second  vol- 
ume, but  is  not  given  in  the  first. 

t  Rather  1708.  Sir  James  Murray  was  appointed  an  or- 
voL.  V.  24 


dell's,  inserted  some  stanzas  which  he  had 
received  from  Sheriff  Plummer,  and  in  the 
second  edition  (otherwise  slightly  altered) 
two  stanzas  from  the  recitation  of  Mungo 
Park.  Mrs  Cockburn's  MS.  evidently  agreed 
very  nearly  with  the  copy  in  Herd,  so  far  as 
the  latter  goes.  I  much  regret  that  exer- 
tions made  to  secure  the  Cockburn  MS.  did 
not  result  successfully,  c.  "  From  a  note  ap- 
pended to  the  ballad,  explanatory  of  its  cir- 
cumstances, in  which  reference  is  made  to 
Lord  Philiphaugh  (a  judge  of  Session)  as 
being  then  alive,"  says  Aytoun,  "  the  manu- 
script must  have  been  written  between  the 
years  1689  and  1702."  $  The  original  man- 
uscript, unfortunately  and  inexplicably,  is  no 
longer  in  the  Philiphaugh  archives,  and  has 
not  come  to  light  after  search.  The  text,  if 
earlier  transcribed,  shows  no  internal  evidence 
of  superior  age,  and  exhibits  several  inferior 
readings, —  two  that  are  highly  objectionable.§ 
d,  the   copy   actually  preserved   among   the 

dinary  Lord  of  Session  October  28,  1689,  and  took  his  seat 
as  Lord  Philiphaugh  November  1.  In  1702  he  was  ap- 
pointed Lord  Clerk  Register,  and  this  place  he  held,  except 
a  short  interval,  till  his  death,  July  1,  1708.  (T.  Craig- 
Brown,  History  of  Selkirkshire,  II,  345  f) 

§  I  mean  Soldan  Turk,  c  228,  for  Soudron,  a,  b,  d, 
and  Soldanie,  c  33^,  for  Soudronie,  Southronie.  a,  b. 
(Soudan  Turk,  also  B  263,  Souden  Turk,  C  3^,  S>^.)  Nothing 
is  easier  than  the  corruption  of  Soudron  into  Soudan,  upon 
which  change  the  addition  of  Turk  would  be  all  but  inevi- 
table. The  corruption  would  be  likely  to  be  made  by  one  who 
had  heard  of  an  irruption  of  Saracens  (or,  if  you  please, 
Moors)  into  Galloway.  (See  note,  p.  190.)  The  winning  of 
Ettrick  Forest  by  and  from  the  Southron  is  historical,  and 
this  pretends  to  be  an  historical  poem. 


186 


305.    THE  OUTLAW  MURRAY 


Philiphaugh  papers,  is  evinced  by  a  water- 
mark to  be  not  older  than  1848.  It  shows 
variations  from  Aytoun's  printed  text  which 
cannot  be  other  than  wilful  alterations. 

B,  which  is  both  defective,  corrupted,  and 
chargeable  with  flat  repetition,  and  C,  a  few 
fragmentary  verses,  are  all  that  have  been  re- 
trieved from  traditron,  although  Scott  says 
that  the  ballad  "  has  been  for  ages  a  popular 
song  in  Selkirkshire." 

A  manuscript  copy  was  understood  to  be 
in  possession  of  the  late  Mr  George  Wilson, 
S.  S.  C,  Edinburgh,  but,  as  in  the  case  of 
the  original  of  the  Philiphaugh  MS.  and  in 
that  of  Mrs  Cockburn's  copy,  inquiry  and 
search  were  fruitless. 

The  king  of  Scotland  is  informed  that 
there  is  an  Outlaw  in  Ettrick  Forest  who 
makes  no  account  of  him ;  the  king  vows 
that  he  will  be  king  of  Ettrick  Forest,  or 
the  Outlaw  shall  be  king  of  Scotland.  Earl 
Hamilton  advises  that  an  envoy  be  sent  to 
the  Outlaw  to  ascertain  whether  he  is  willing 
to  do  homage  to  the  king  and  hold  the  forest 
of  him  ;  if  the  Outlaw  should  refuse,  then 
they  will  proceed  to  extremities  with  him. 
The  king  sends  Boyd,  Earl  of  Arran,  to  an- 
nounce his  terms  :  the  Outlaw  is  to  do  hom- 
age ;  otherwise  he  and  his  lands  will  be  sub- 
jugated, his  castle  levelled,  his  wife  made  a 
widow,  and  his  men  be  hanged.  The  mes- 
senger demands  of  the  Outlaw,  in  the  king's 
name,  of  whom  he  holds  his  lands ;  the  Out- 
law replies  that  the  lands  are  his  own,  won 
by  himself  from  the  Southron,  and  that  he 
recognizes  no  king  in  Christendom.  The  mes- 
senger intimates  that  it  will  nevertheless  be 
necessary  for  the  Outlaw  to  do  homage  to  the 
king  of  Scotland,  under  the  penalties  before 
mentioned.  Many  of  the  king's  nobles  shall 
lie  cold  first,  he  replies.  Boyd  reports  to 
his  master  that  the  Outlaw  claims  to  hold 
the  forest  by  his  own  right,  which  he  will 
maintain  against  all  kings  in  Christendom; 
the  king  prepares  to  enforce  his  sovereignty 
with  five  thousand  men. 

The  Outlaw  vows  that  the  king  shall  pay 
dear  for  his  coming,  and  sends  for  succor  to 
three  of  his  kinsmen,  all  of  whom  promise 


help.  As  the  kuig  approaches  the  forest, 
Hamilton  ventures  to  give  further  advice: 
that  the  Outlaw  should  be  summoned  to  come 
with  four  of  his  best  men  to  meet  the  king 
and  five  earls ;  fire,  sword,  and  forfeiture  to 
follow  upon  refusal.  The  Outlaw  bethinks 
himself  of  his  children,  and  complies.  He 
and  his  company  fall  on  their  knees  and  im- 
plore the  king's  mercy;  his  mercy  shall  be 
the  gallows,  says  the  king.  The  Outlaw  pro- 
tests again  that  he  won  his  lands  from  the 
enemy,  and  as  he  won  them  so  will  he  keep 
them,  against  all  kings  in  Christendom ;  but 
having  indulged  in  this  vaunt  asks  mercy 
again,  and  offers  to  give  up  the  keys  of  his 
castle  if  the  king  will  constitute  him  and  his 
successors  sheriffs  of  the  forest.  The  king, 
on  his  part,  is  equally  ready  for  a  compro- 
mise. The  Outlaw,  on  surrendering  the  keys 
of  his  castle,  shall  be  made  sheriff  of  Ettrick 
Forest,  and  shall  never  be  forfeited  as  long  as 
he  continues  loyal,  and  his  men  shall  have 
pardon  if  they  amend  their  lives.  After  all 
the  strong  language  on  both  sides,  the  Outlaw 
has  only  to  name  his  lands  (but  gives  a  very 
imperfect  list),  and  the  king  (waiving  com- 
plete particulars)  renders  him  whatever  he 
is  pleased  to  claim,  and  makes  him  sheriff 
of  Ettrick  Forest  while  upwards  grows  the 
tree. 

So  far  all  the  copies  of  A  concur,  as  to  the 
story,  except  that  o  22,  33,  by  an  absurd 
corruption,  makes  the  Outlaw  to  have  won 
his  lands,  not  from  the  Soudron,  the  Sou- 
dronie,  but  from  Soldan  Turk,  the  Soldanie  ; 
in  which  respect  A  c  is  followed  by  B  26,  O 
3,  5.  Between  52  and  63,  b  introduces  this 
passage : 

Then  spak  the  kene  laird  of  Buckscleuth, 
A  stalworthye  man  and  sterna  was  he : 

*  For  a  king  to  gang  an  outlaw  till 

Is  beneath  his  state  and  his  dignitie. 

*  The  man  that  wons  yon  f oreste  intill, 

He  fives  by  reif  and  f  elonie  ; 
Wherefore,  brayd  on,  my  sovereign  fiege, 

Wi  fire  and  sword  we  '11  follow  thee, 
Or,  gif  your  courtrie  lords  fa  back, 

Our  borderers  sail  the  onset  gie.* 


305.    THE   OUTLAW  MURRAY 


187 


Then  out  and  spak  the  nobil  king, 
And  round  him  cast  a  wilie  ee  : 

*  Now  hand  thy  tongue,  Sir  Walter  Scott, 
Nor  speik  of  reif  nor  felonie, 

For  had  everye  honeste  man  his  awin  kye, 
A  right  puir  clan  thy  name  wad  be.'  * 

B  represents  that  the  king,  after  appoint- 
ing a  meeting  with  the  Outlaw  'in  number 
not  above  two  or  three,'  comes  with  a  com- 
pany of  three  hundred,  which  violation  of 
the  mutual  understanding  naturally  leads  the 
Outlaw  to  expect  treachery.  The  king,  how- 
ever, not  only  proceeds  in  good  faith,  but, 
without  any  stipulations,  at  once  makes  the 
Outlaw  laird  of  the  Forest. 

From  the  note,  otherwise  of  no  value, 
which  accompanies  the  Philiphaugh  MS.,  it 
is  clear  that  the  ballad  was  known  before 
1700 ;  how  much  earlier  it  is  to  be  put  we 
can  neither  ascertain  nor  safely  conjecture, 
but  we  may  say  that  there  is  nothing  in  the 
language  of  the  piece  as  it  stands  which 
obliges  us  to  assign  it  a  much  higher  an- 
tiquity.f 

As  to  James  Murray,  laird  of  Traquair, 
whose  lands  the  king  had  gifted  lang  syne, 
A  45^,  48\  Sheriff  Plummer  remarks  in  Herd's 
MS. :  "  Willielmus  de  Moravia  had  forfeited 
the  lands  of  '  trakware '  ante  annum  1464. 
As  of  that  date  I  have  a  charter  of  these 
lands,  proceeding  upon  his  forfeiture,  granted 
Willielmo  Douglas  de  Cluny."  Thomas  Boyd 
was  created  Earl  of  Arran  after  his  marriage 
with  the  eldest  sister  of  James  III,  1467. 
The  Earl  of  Hamilton  is  mentioned  A  7^,  SO^. 
Sheriff  Plummer  observes  that  there  was  an 
earl  of  that  surname  till  1503. 

Scott,  in  his  preface  in  the  Border  Min- 
strelsy, after  professing  himself  unable  to  as- 
certain the  foundation  of  the  tale,  goes  on  to 
state  the  following  historical  possibilities  : 

*  "  The  feud  betwixt  the  Outlaw  and  the  Scots  may 
serve  to  explain  the  asperity  with  which  the  chieftain  of 
that  clan  is  handled  in  the  ballad."  Were  it  not  for  these 
words  in  Scott's  preface,  I  should  have  been  inclined  to 
think  that  this  humorous  episode  came  from  the  hand  of 
the  editor  of  '  Kinmont  Willie.'  It  is  quite  in  Scott's  way, 
and  also  in  contrast  with  the  tone  of  the  rest  of  the  narra- 
tive. If  the  author  of  the  ballad  was  capable  of  this  smar^ 
ness,  he  ought  to  have  been  aware  that  the  Outlaw  (not  to 
say  the  king),  after  all  his  bluster,  cuts  a  ridiculously  tame 


"  This  ballad  .  .  .  commemorates  a  trans- 
action supposed  to  have  taken  place  betwixt 
a  Scottish  monarch  and  an  ancestor  of  the 
ancient  family  of  Murray  of  Philiphaugh  in 
Selkirkshire.  ...  It  is  certp,in  that  during 
the  civil  wars  betwixt  Bruce  and  Baliol  the 
family  of  Philiphaugh  existed  and  was  pow- 
erful, for  their  ancestor,  Archibald  de  Mora- 
via, subscribes  the  oath  of  fealty  to  Edward 
I,  A.  D.  1296.  It  is  therefore  not  unlikely 
that,  residing  in  a  wild  and  frontier  country, 
they  may  have,  at  one  period  or  other  during 
these  commotions,  refused  allegiance  to  the 
feeble  monarch  of  the  day,  and  thus  extorted 
from  him  some  grant  of  territory  or  jurisdic- 
tion. It  is  also  certain  that,  by  a  charter 
from  James  IV,  dated  November  30,  1509, 
John  Murray  of  Philiphaugh  is  vested  with 
the  dignity  of  heritable  Sheriff  of  Ettrick 
Forest,  an  office  held  by  his  descendants  till 
the  final  abolition  of  such  jurisdictions  by 
28th  George  II,  cap.  23.  But  it  seems  diffi- 
cult to  believe  that  the  circumstances  men- 
tioned in  the  ballad  could  occur  under  the 
reign  of  so  vigorous  a  monarch  as  James  IV. 
It  is  true  that  the  dramatis  personce  intro- 
duced seem  to  refer  to  the  end  of  the  fif- 
teenth or  beginning  of  the  sixteenth  century ; 
but  from  this  it  can  only  be  argued  that  the 
author  himself  lived  soon  after  that  period. 
It  may  therefore  be  supposed  (unless  fur- 
ther evidence  can  be  produced  tending  to 
invalidate  the  conclusion)  that  the  bard,  will- 
ing to  pay  his  court  to  the  family,  has  con- 
nected his  grant  of  the  sheriffship  by  James 
IV  with  some  former  dispute  betwixt  the 
Murrays  of  Philiphaugh  and  their  sovereign, 
occurring  either  while  they  were  engaged 
upon  the  side  of  Baliol,  or  in  the  subsequent 
reigns  of  David  II  and  Robert  II  and  III,  when 
the  English  possessed  great  part  of  the  Scot- 
figure  in  the  conclusion.  I  now  observe  that  the  line  '  Wi 
fire  and  sword  we  '11  follow  thee  '  is  in  A  a,  .522,  and  nearly 
the  same  in  c;  which  suggests  that  something  may  have 
been  lost  in  the  MS. 

t  A  228'*  might  be  a  reminiscence  of  'Johnie  Arm- 
strong,' C  273'*,  in,  371.  C  33.*  (from  recitation)  agrees 
strikingly  with  the  stanza  cited  III,  363,  note  * ;  but  this  fact 
is  of  not  the  least  importance.  Mr  Macmath  notes  that  A 
a  1^, '  The  hart,  the  hynd,  the  dae,  the  rae,'  occurs  in  Alex- 
ander Montgomerie's  Cherrie  and  the  Slae,Edinburgh,  1597. 


188 


305.    THE  OUTLAW  MURRAY 


tish  frontier,  and  the  Vest  was  in  so  lawless 
a  state  as  hardly  to  acknowledge  any  supe- 
rior. 

"At  the  same  time,  this  reasoning  is  not 
absolutely  conclusive.  James  IV  had  partic- 
ular reasons  for  desiring  that  Ettrick  Forest, 
which  actually  formed  part  of  the  jointure- 
lands  of  Margaret,  his  queen,  should  be  kept 
in  a  state  of  tranquillity:  Rymer,  vol.  xiii, 
p.  66.  In  order  to  accomplish  this  object,  it 
was  natural  for  him,  according  to  the  policy 
of  his  predecessors,  to  invest  one  great  fam- 
ily with  the  power  of  keeping  order  among 
the  rest.  It  is  even  probable  that  the  Phil- 
iphaugh  family  may  have  had  claims  upon 
part  of  the  lordship  of  Ettrick  Forest,  which 
lay  intermingled  with  their  own  extensive 
possessions,  and  in  the  course  of  arranging, 
not,  indeed,  the  feudal  superiority,  but  the 
property  of  these  lands,  a  dispute  may  have 
arisen  of  sufficient  importance  to  be  the 
groundwork  of  a  ballad. 

"  It  is  farther  probable  that  the  Murrays, 
like  other  Border  clans,  were  in  a  very  lawless 
state,  and  held  their  lands  merely  by  occu- 
pancy, without  any  feudal  right.  Indeed,  the 
lands  of  the  various  proprietors  in  Ettrick  For- 
est (being  a  royal  demesne)  were  held  by  the 
possessors,  not  in  property,  but  as  the  kindly 
tenants,  or  rentallers,  of  the  crown.  .  .  .  This 
state  of  possession  naturally  led  to  a  confusion 
of  rights  and  claims.  The  kings  of  Scotland 
were  often  reduced  to  the  humiliating  neces- 
sity of  compromising  such  matters  with  their 
rebellious  subjects,  and  James  himself  even 
enteied  into  a  sort  of  league  with  Johnnie  Faa, 
the  king  of  the  gypsies.  Perhaps,  therefore, 
the  tradition  handed  down  in  this  way  may 
have  had  more  foundation  than  it  would  at 
present  be  proper  positively  to  assert." 

In  the  way  of  comment  upon  these  sur- 
mises of  Scott,  which  proceed  mainly  upon  what 
we  do  not  know,  it  may  be  alleged  that  we 
have  a  fairly  good  record  of  the  relations  of 
Selkirkshire  to  the  Scottish  crown  during  the 

*  Mr  David  MacRitchie,  in  his  very  interesting  Ancient 
and  Modern  Britons,  a  book  full  of  novel  matter  and  views, 
accepts  the  ballad  as  "  partly  true,"  apparently  to  the  ex- 
tent "  that  this  '  outlaw  *  was  as  yet  an  actual,  independent 
king,  and  that  modern  Selkirkshire  was  not  a  part  of  Scot- 


fourteenth  century,  when  this  district  was  so 
often  changing  hands  between  the  English 
and  the  Scotch,  and  that  there  is  no  indica- 
tion of  any  Murray  having  been  concerned  in 
winning  it  from  the  Southron,  as  is  pre- 
tended in  the  ballad,  either  then  or  at  any 
time,  so  that  this  part  of  the  storj'^  may  be 
set  down  as  pure  invention.*  Hardly  less  fic- 
titious seems  to  be  the  dispute  between  the 
Scottish  king  and  a  Murray,  in  relation  to 
the  tenure.  The  Murrays  first  became  con- 
nected with  Selkirkshire  in  1461.  John  de 
Moravia  then  acquired  the  lands  of  Philip- 
haugh,  and  was  afterwards  appointed  Gustos 
of  Newark  Castle,  and  came  into  possession 
of  Hangingshaw  and  Lewinshope.  All  of 
these  are  attributed  to  the  Outlaw  in  the  bal- 
lad. This  John  Murray  was  a  contemporary 
of  Boyd,  Earl  of  Arran,  and  of  the  forfeited 
Murray  of  Traquair,  but,  with  all  this,  nobody 
has  pitched  upon  him  for  the  Outlaw  ;  and  it 
would  not  have  been  a  happy  idea,  for  he  was 
on  perfectly  good  terms,  and  even  in  great 
favor,  with  the  court  under  James  III.  His 
grandson,  John  Murray,  was  in  equal  or 
greater  favor  with  James  IV,  and  whs  made 
hereditary  Sheriff  of  Selkirk  in  1509,  and 
for  this  last  reason  has  been  proposed  for  the 
Outlaw,  though  "  nothing  could  be  more  im- 
probable than  that  this  orderly, '  circumspect,' 
and  law-enforcing  officer  of  the  crown  should 
ever  take  up  an  attitude  of  rebellious  defi- 
ance so  diametrically  opposed  to  all  we  really 
know  of  his  character  and  conduct."  f 

Scott  thought  that  light  might  be  thrown 
upon  the  history  of  the  ballad  by  the  Philip- 
haugh  family  papers.  Mr  Craig-Brown  gave 
them  the  accurate  examination  which  Scott 
suggested,  and  came  to  the  same  conclusion 
as  Aytoun,  that  the  story  told  in  the  ballad 
is,  if  not  altogether  fictitious,  at  least  greatly 
exaggerated.  He  is  inclined  to  think  that 
"  some  clue  to  the  date  of  the  ballad  lies  in 
the  minstrel's  animus  against  the  house  of 
Buccleuch"  (shown  only  in  A  b).      "James 

land : "  and  this  whether  the  king  of  Scotland  was  James 
IV  or  an   earlier  monarch,  II,  136-139.    This  is  pitting 
the  ballad  against  history. 
t  Craig-Brown,  II,  336-338. 


305.    THE   OUTLAW  MURRAY 


189 


Murray,  tenth  laird,"  he  says,  "is  the  last 
mentioned  in  the  family  MSS  as  possessor  of 
Newark,  which  castle  passed  into  the  hands  of 
Buccleuch  either  in  his  lifetime  or  that  of  his 
successor,  Patrick  Murray.  After  the  death 
of  James  IV  at  Flodden,  the  Queen-Regent 
complained  loudly  of  Buccleuch's  encroach- 
ment upon  her  dowry  lands  of  Ettrick  For- 
est, the  Gustos  of  which  domain  had  Newark 
for  a  residence.  Buccleuch  continued  to  keep 
his  hold,  and,  as  he  could  only  do  so  by  dis- 
placing Murray,  the  ill-will  of  the  latter  fam- 
ily was  a  natural  consequence.  By  way  of 
showing  the  earlier  and  superior  title  of  the 
Murrays,  the  ballad-writer  has  either  in- 
vented the  story  in  toto,  or  has  amplified  the 
tradition  of  an  actual  visit  paid  to  a  former 
Murray  by  the  king.  Both  Sir  Walter  Scott 
and  the  compiler  of  the  Family  Records  are 
of  opinion  that  John  Murray,  eighth  laird,  is 
the  presumptive  Outlaw  of  the  song ;  and,  as 
he  was  undoubtedly  in  great  favor  with  King 
James  IV,  nothing  is  more  likely  than  that 
the  young  monarch  may  have  ended  one  of 
his  hunting-expeditions  to  the  Forest  by  con- 
firming John  in  his  hereditary  sheriffship, 
interrupted  for  a  few  years  by  the  appoint- 
ment of  Lord  Home.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
John  Murray  did  in  1509  obtain  a  royal 
charter  from  his  sovereign,  of  the  sheriffship ; 
but,  as  the  office  had  been  vacant  since  1506, 
there  is  nothing  improbable  in  the  supposi- 
tion that  he  had  already  claimed  the  family 
rights  and  taken  possession  of  the  castle. 
Indeed,  in  1503,  he  acted  as  sheriff  at  the 
queen's  infeftment  in  her  dowry-lands  of 
Ettrick  Forest.  It  would  have  been  in  thor- 
ough keeping  with  all  that  is  known  of 
James  IV  if  his  Majesty  had  taken  the  op- 
portunity to  give  his  favorite  a  half-jesting 
reproof  for  his  presumption;  but  that  Mur- 
ray was  ever  seriously  outlawed  is  out  of  the 


question.  His  king  heaped  honors  on  him ; 
and  only  eighty  years  after  his  death  his  de- 
scendant obtained  a  feudal  precept  of  his 
lands  for  gratuitous  services  rendered  to  the 
crown  by  his  family,  '  without  default  at  any 
time  in  their  due  obedience  as  became  faith- 
ful subjects.'  So  that,  granted  a  royal  pro- 
gress to  Newark,  followed  by  Murray's  inves- 
titure with  the  sheriffship,  the  poet  remains 
chargeable  with  considerable  embellishment. 
A  glorification  of  the  family  of  Philiphaugh 
and  a  sneer  at  the  rapacity  of  Buccleuch  are 
the  evident  motives  of  his  rhyme."  * 

"  The  tradition  of  Ettrick  Forest,"  says 
Scott,  Minstrelsy,  2d  ed.,  1803,  I,  4,  "bears 
that  the  Outlaw  was  a  man  of  prodigious 
strength,  possessing  a  batton  or  club  with 
which  he  laid  lee  (i.  e.  waste)  the  country 
for  many  miles  round,  and  that  he  was  at 
length  slain  by  Buccleuch  or  some  of  his 
clan."  f  This  account  is  not  in  keeping  with 
the  conception  of  the  Outlaw  given  by  the 
ballad,  but  indicates  the  ferocious  robber 
and  murderer,  the  Cacus  of  popular  story,  of 
whom  no  doubt  the  world  was  actually  once 
very  guilty,  and  of  whom  there  are  many 
specimens  in  British  tradition  as  elsewhere.^ 
As  such  he  seems  to  turn  up  again  in  Gallo- 
way, where  he  haunts  a  forest  of  Kirkcud- 
brightshire, called  the  Black  Morrow  wood, 
from  which  he  sallies  out  "in  the  neighbor- 
ing country  at  night,  committing  horrible 
outrages."  Of  this  personage,  Mactaggart, 
in  his  Gallovidian  Encyclopedia,  p.  73,  says : 

"  Tradition  has  him  a  Blackimore,  .  .  .  but 
my  opinion  is  that  he  was  no  Blackimore ; 
he  never  saw  Africa;  his  name  must  have 
been  Murray,  and  as  he  must  have  been, 
too,  an  outlaw  and  a  bloody  man,  gloomy 
with  foul  crimes,§  Black  prefaced  it,  as  it 
did  Black  Douglass,  and  that  of  others;  so 
he  became  Black   Murray."     And  he  adds 


*  History  of  Selkirkshire,  II,  355-357  ;  see  also  p.  338.  ' 
t  An  account  varying  as  to  the  place  where  the  Outlaw 
was  slain  specifies  Scott  of  Haining  as  the  author  of  his 
death.  John  Murray,  the  Sheriff,  was  killed  in  1510,  and 
Andrew  Ker  and  Thomas  Scot  were  charged  with  the  act, 
traditionally  put  to  the  account  of  Buccleuch  and  his  clan, 
and,  in  particular,  of  Scott  of  Haining.  (Craig-Brown,  II, 
338.) 


t  See  Mr  MacRitchie's  Ancient  and  Modem  Britons,  I, 
156  fF.,  136  ff.,  for  these  monsters,  often  described  as  black, 
in  which  sense,  it  is  maintained,  Murray  (Morrow,  Moor) 
is  frequently  to  be  understood. 

§  More  of  this  Murray  in  Historical  and  Traditional 
Tales,  Kirkcudbright,  1843,  p.  112. 


190 


305.    THE  OUTLAW  MURRAY 


that  this  pest  was  disposed  of  by  the  people 
pouring  a  barrel  of  spirits  into  a  spring  one 
night  when  he  was  out  on  his  rambles,  whereof 
drinking  the  next  day,  he  was  made  drunk 
and  fell  asleep,  in  which  condition  his  foes 
dirked  him  ;  or  according  to  others,  one  of 
the  McLellans  of  Kirkcudbright  took  to  the 
wood  single-handed,  found  the  outlaw  sleep- 
ing, and  drove  a  dirk  through  his  head,  whence 
the  head  on  the  dagger  in  the  McLellans'  coat 
of  arms.* 

2.  The  castle,  says  Scott,  is  supposed  by 
the  common  people  to  have  been  the  castle  of 
Newark  ;  but  "  this  is  highly  improbable,  be- 
cause Newark  was  always  a  royal  fortress." 
The  only  important  point,  however,  would 
seem  to  be  who  was  the  keeper  of  the  castle. 
The  Douglasses  are  spoken  of  as  holding  it 
from  about  1326  to  1455  ;  John  de  Moravia 
was  Gustos  after  1462.  The  Outlaw's  five 
hundred  men  are  shooting  on  Newark  lee  in 
A  b  18*,  and  Newark  lee  is  twice  mentioned 
elsewhere  in  that  copy.  Sheriff  Plummer  in 
his  letter  to  Herd  says :  This  I  take  to  be 
the  castle  of  New-wark,  on  the  west  end  of 
which  are  the  arms  of  Scotland  supported  by 
two  unicorns.  But  in  Scott's  preface  we  are 
told  that  Sheriff  Plummer  has  assured  the 
editor  that  he  remembered  the  insignia  of 
the  unicorns,  etc.,  so  often  mentioned  in  the 
ballad,  in  existence  upon  the  old  tower  at 
Hangingshaw.  Whether  the  etc.  covers  the 
picture  of  the  knight  and  the  lady  bright, 
and  Sheriff  Plummer  had  therefore  changed 
his  opinion,  does  not  appear. 

*  "  Sometimes  it  [the  crest]  represents  some  valiant  act 
done  by  the  bearer  ;  thus  McClelland  of  Bombie  did,  and 
now  Lord  Kirkcudbright  does,  bear  a  naked  arm  support- 
ing on  the  point  of  a  sword  a  More's  head,  because,  Bombie 
being  forfeited,  his  son  killed  a  More  who  came  in  with 
some  Sarazens  to  infest  Galloway,  to  the  killer  of  whom  the 
king  had  promised  the  forfeiture  of  Bombie,  and  thereupon 
he  was  restored  to  his  father's  land."  Sir  George  Macken- 
zie, The  Science  of  Herauldry,  1680,  p.  90.     (This  reference 


15^.  "  Birkendale  brae,  now  commonly 
called  Birkendailly  [see  C  2^],  is  a  steep 
descent  at  the  south  side  of  Minchmoor, 
which  separates  Tweed-dale  from  the  Forest, 
at  the  top  of  which  you  come  first  in  sight 
of  New-wark  Castle."  Plummer's  letter  to 
Herd. 

19.  Mr  MacRitchie,  II,  141  ff.,  considers 
that  the  Lincoln  green  dresses  of  the  Out- 
law's men,  and  perhaps  the  purple  of  the 
Outlaw  and  his  wife,  show  that  they  were 
"gypsies,"  not  perhaps  of  a  swarthy  color, 
but  still  people  "  living  a  certain  archaic 
'  heathen '  life,"  at  any  rate  a  "  wild  and  law- 
less life,"  and  "  refusing  to  follow  the  course 
of  civilization."  This  inference  from  the  cos- 
tume seems  to  be  not  quite  necessary,  unless, 
or  even  if,  all  outlaws  are  "  gypsies."  Robin 
Hood,  in  '  Robin  Hood  and  Queen  Kather- 
ine,'  is  dressed  in  scarlet  red,  and  his  men 
in  Lincoln  green  (III,  199,  201).  But  green 
is  the  regular  attire  for  men  who  shoot  with 
the  bow.  III,  76  f.,  91.  Johnie  Cock,  when 
going  out  to  ding  the  dun  deer  down,  puts  on 
Lincoln  green.  III,  3  ff.  Will  Stewart,  even, 
when  only  going  to  a  ball-match,  clothes  his 
men  in  green,  and  himself  in  scarlet  red,  II, 
434,  437. 

51.  "  Penman's  core,  generally  called  Per- 
man's  core  [Permanscore  in  Scott,  ed.  1833], 
is  a  nick  or  hollow  on  the  top  of  a  high  ridge 
of  hills  a  little  to  the  east  of  Minchmoor." 
Plummer,  as  before.  In  B  50,  poor  man's 
house;  52,  poor  man's  score.f 


and    those  to  Mactaggart  and  the  Kirkcudbright  Tales 
were  given  me  by  Mr  W.  Macmath  in  1883.) 

t  That  it  was  not  originally  intended  to  insert  '  The  Out- 
law Murray  '  in  this  collection  will  be  apparent  from  the  posi- 
tion which  it  occupies.  I  am  convinced  that  it  did  not  be- 
gin its  existence  as  a  popular  ballad,  and  I  am  not  convinced 
that  (as  Scott  asserts)  "  it  has  been  for  ages  a  popular  song 
in  Selkirkshire."  But  the  "song  "  gained  a  place  in  oral 
tradition,  as  we  see  from  B,  C,  and  I  prefer  to  err  by  includ- 
ing rather  than  by  excluding. 


305.    THE  OUTLAW  MURRAY 


191 


a.  Herd's  MSS,  II,  fol.  76,  I,  255,  1795.  b.  Minstrelsy 
of  the  Scottish  Border,  1803,  I,  1 ;  principally  from  a  copy 
found  among  the  papers  of  the  late  Mrs  Cockburn,  of 
Edinburgh,  c.  Aytoun's  Ballads  of  Scotland,  1859,  II, 
131 ;  "  from  an  old  manuscript  in  the  Philiphaugh  charter- 
chest,"  now  not  accessible,  d-  A  copy  among  the  Philip- 
haugh papers,  transcribed  not  earlier  than  1848. 

1  Etbick  forest  is  a  fair  foreste, 

In  it  grows  manie  a  semelie  trie ; 
The  hart,  the  hynd,  the  dae,  the  rae, 
And  of  a'  [wylde]  beastis  grete  plentie. 

2  There 's  a  castell  biggit  with  lime  and  stane, 

O  gin  it  stands  not  pleasantlie  ! 
In  the  fore  front  o  that  castell  fair 
Twa  unicorns  are  bra  to  see. 

3  There 's  the  picture  of  a  knight  and  a  ladye 

bright, 
And  the  grene  hollin  aboon  their  brie  ; 
There  an  Outlaw  keepis  five  hundred  men, 
He  keepis  a  royalle  companie. 

4  His  merrie  men  are  in  [ae]  liverie  clad, 

Of  the  Lincoln  grene  so  fair  to  see ; 
He  and  his  ladie  in  purple  clad, 
0  if  they  live  not  royaUie ! 

5  Word  is  gane  to  our  nobell  king, 

In  Edinburgh  where  that  he  lay. 
That  there  was  an  Outlaw  in  Etterick  forest 
Counted  him  nought  and  all  his  courtrie  gay. 

6  '  I  mak  a  vowe,'  then  the  goode  king  said, 

*  Unto  the  man  that  dear  bought  me, 
I  'se  either  be  king  of  Etrick  forest, 

Or  king  of  Scotland  that  Outlaw  's  bee.' 

7  Then  spak  the  erle  bight  Hamilton, 

And  to  the  noble  king  said  he  ; 
My  sovereign  prince,  sum  counsell  tak, 
First  of  your  nobles,  syne  of  me. 

8  *  I  redd  you  send  yon  bra  Outlaw  till 

And  see  gif  your  man  cum  will  he ; 
Desire  him  cum  and  be  your  man, 
And  hald  of  you  yon  forest  f rie. 

9  '  And  gif  he  refuses  to  do  that. 

We  11  conquess  both  his  lands  and  he, 
Or  else  we  '11  throw  his  casteU  down. 
And  mak  a  widows  of  his  gaye  ladie.' 


10  The  king  called  on  a  gentleman, 

James  Boyd,  Erie  of  Arran,  his  brother  was 
he; 
When  James  he  came  before  the  king 
He  fell  before  him  on  his  knie. 

11  '  Welcum,  James  Boyd,'  said  our  nobil  king, 

*  A  message  ye  maun  gang  for  me ; 
Ye  maun  hie  to  Etrick  forrest. 

To  yon  Outlaw,  where  dwelleth  he. 

12  '  Ask  hym  of  quhom  he  haldis  his  lands, 

Or,  man,  wha  may  his  master  be ; 
Desyre  him  come  and  be  my  man. 
And  hald  of  me  yon  forrest  frie. 

13  '  To  Edinburgh  to  cum  and  gang 

His  safe-warrand  I  sail  be  ; 
And,  gif  he  refuses  to  do  that, 

We  '11  conquess  baith  his  lands  and  he. 

14  '  Thou  mayst  vow  I  '11  cast  his  castell  doun, 

And  mak  a  widow  of  his  gay  ladie ; 

I  '11  hang  his  merrie  men  pair  by  pair 

In  ony  frith  where  I  may  them  see.' 

15  James   Boyd  took  his  leave   of    the    nobill 

king. 
To  Etrick  forrest  fair  came  he  ; 
Down  Birkendale  brae  when  that  he  cam. 
He  saw  the  fair  forest  with  his  ee. 

16  Baith  dae  and  rae  and  hart  and  hynd. 

And  of  all  wylde  beastis  grete  plentie ; 
He  heard  the  bows  that  bauldly  ring. 
And  arrows  whidderand  near  him  by. 

17  Of  the  fair  castell  he  got  a  sight. 

The  like  he  nere  saw  with  his  ee  ; 
On  the  fore  front  of  that  castell 
Twa  unicorns  were  bra  to  see. 

18  The  picture  of  a  knight  and  a  ladie  bright. 

And  the  grene  hollin  aboon  their  brie  ; 
Thereat  he  spy'd  five  hundred  men, 
Shuting  with  bows  upon  the  lee. 

19  They  a'  were  in  ae  liverie  clad. 

Of  the  Lincoln  grene,  sae  fair  to  see  ; 
The  knight  and  his  ladye  in  purple  clad ; 

O  gif  they  hved  right  royallie ! 
Therefore  he  kend  he  was  master-man, 

And  served  him  in  his  ain  degree. 


192 


305.    THE  OUTLAW  MURRAY 


20  *  God  mot  thee  save,  brave  Outlaw  Murray, 

Thy  ladie  and  a'  thy  chivalrie  ! ' 
'  Marry,  thou  's  wellcum,  gentleman, 
Sum  king's-messenger  thou  seems  to  be.' 

21  '  The  King  of  Scotland  sent  me  hier, 

And,  gude  Outlaw,  I  'm  sent  to  thee ; 
I  wad  wat  of  whom  ye  hald  your  lands, 
Or,  man,  wha  may  thy  master  be.' 

22  '  Tlur  landis  are  mine,'  the  Outlaw  said, 

'  I  own  na  king  in  Christentie ; 
Frae  Soudron  I  this  forest  wan, 

When  the  king  nor 's  knights  were  not  to 
see.' 

23  '  He  desires  you  '1  come  to  Edinburgh, 

And  hald  of  him  this  forest  frie ; 
And  gif  you  refuse  to  do  this, 

He  '11  conquess  both  thy  landis  and  thee ; 
He  has  vowd  to  cast  thy  castell  down, 

And  make  a  widow  of  thy  gaye  ladie. 

24  '  He  '11  hang  thy  merrie  men  pair  by  pair. 

In  ony  frith  where  he  may  them  finde  ; ' 
'  Aye,  by  my  troth,'  the  Outlaw  said, 
'  Then  wad  I  think  me  far  behinde. 

25  '  Eere  the  king  my  fair  countrie  get, 

This  land  that 's  nativest  to  me, 
Mony  of  his  nobils  sail  be  cauld. 
Their  ladies  sail  be  right  wearie.' 

26  Then  spak  his  ladye  fair  of  face, 

She  said,  Without  consent  of  me 
That  an  outlaw  shuld  come  before  the  king : 
I  am  right  rad  of  treasonrie. 

27  '  Bid  him  be  gude  to  his  lordis  at  hame. 

For  Edinburgh  my  lord  sail  never  see  : ' 
James  tuke  his  leave  of  the  Outlaw  keene. 
To  Edinburgh  boun  is  he. 

28  And  when  he  came  before  the  king. 

He  fell  before  him  on  his  knie  : 
'  Wellcum,  James  Boyd,'  said  the  nobil  king, 
'  What  foreste  is  Etrick  forest  frie  ?  ' 

29  '  Etrick  forest  is  the  fairest  forest 

That  ever  man  saw  with  his  ee ; 
There 's    the    dae,    the    rae,    the    hart,    the 
hynde, 
And  of  all  wild  beastis  great  plentie. 


30  '  There 's  a  prittie  castell  of  lime  and  stone, 

O  gif  it  stands  not  pleasauntlie  ! 
There 's  on  the  fore  side  of  that  castell 
Twa  unicorns  sae  bra  to  see. 

31  '  There 's  the  picture  of  a  knight  and  [a]  ladie 

bright. 
And  the  grene  hollin  aboon  their  brie ; 
There  the  Outlaw  keepis  five  hundred  men, 
O  gif  they  live  not  royallie ! 

32  '  His  merry  men  in  [ae]  liverie  clad, 

O  the  Lincoln  grene,  so  fair  to  see  ; 
He  and  his  ladye  in  purple  clad, 
O  gif  they  live  not  royallie  ! 

33  '  He  says  yon  forest  is  his  ain, 

He  wan  it  from  the  Soudronie ; 
Sae  as  he  won  it,  sae  will  he  keep  it, 
Contrair  all  kings  in  Christentie.' 

34  *  Gar  ray  my  horse,'  said  the  nobil  king, 

*  To  Etrick  [forest]  hie  will  I  me  ; ' 
Then  he  gard  graith  five  thousand  men, 
And  sent  them  on  for  the  forest  frie. 

35  Then  word  is  gane  the  Outlaw  tiU, 

In  Etrick  forest  where  dwelleth  he. 

That  the  king  was  cumand  to  his  cuntrie, 

To  conquess  baith  his  lands  and  he. 

36  *  I  mak  a  vow,'  the  Outlaw  said, 

'  I  mak  a  vow,  and  that  trulie. 
Were  there  but  three  men  to  tak  my  part. 
Yon  king's  cuming  full  deir  suld  be.' 

37  Then  messengers  he  called  forth. 

And  bade  them  haste  them  speedilie : 

*  Ane  of  you  go  to  Halliday, 

The  laird  of  the  Corehead  is  he. 

38  *  He  certain  is  my  sister's  son, 

Bid  him  cum  quick  and  succour  me ; 
Tell  Halliday  with  thee  to  cum, 
And  shaw  him  a'  the  veritie.' 

39  *  What  news  ?  what  news,'  said  Halliday, 

'  Man,  frae  thy  master  unto  me .'' ' 

*  Not  as  ye  wad  ;  seeking  your  aid ; 

The  king  's  his  mortal  enemie.' 

40  *  Aye,  by  my  troth,'  quoth  Halliday, 

'  Even  for  that  it  repenteth  me ; 


305.    THE  OUTLAW  MURRAY 


193 


For,  gif  he  lose  fair  Ettrick  forest, 
He  '11  take  fair  Moffatdale  frae  me. 

41  '  I  '11  meet  him  wi  five  hundred  men, 

And  surely  mae,  if  mae  may  be  : ' 
[The  Outlaw  calld  a  messenger. 
And  bid  him  hie  him  speedily.] 

42  *  To  Andrew  Murray  of  Cockpool, 

That  man  's  a  deir  cousin  to  me ; 
Desire  him  cum  and  make  me  aid. 
With  all  the  power  that  he  may  be. 

43  *  The  king  has  vowd  to  cast  my  castell  down, 

And  mak  a  widow  of  my  gay  ladye ; 
He  '11  hang  my  merry  men  pair  by  pair 
I[n]  ony  place  where  he  may  them  see.' 

44  *  It  stands  me  hard,'  quoth  Andrew  Murray, 

'  Judge  if  it  stands  not  hard  with  me, 
To  enter  against  a  king  with  crown. 
And  put  my  lands  in  jeopardie. 

45  '  Yet,  gif  I  cum  not  on  the  daye, 

Surelie  at  night  he  sail  me  see  : ' 
To  Sir  James  Murray,  laird  of  Traquair, 
A  message  came  right  speedilie. 

46  *  What  news  ?  what  news,'  James  Murray  said, 

*  Man,  frae  thy  master  unto  me  ?  ' 
*  What  needs  I  tell  ?  for  well  ye  ken 

The  king 's  his  mortal  enemie. 

47  '  He  desires  ye  '11  cum  and  make  him  aid, 

With  all  the  powers  that  ye  may  be : ' 
'  And,  by  my  troth,'  James  Murray  said, 

*  With  that  Outlaw  I  'U  live  and  die. 

48  '  The  king  has  gifted  my  lands  lang  syne, 

It  can  not  be  nae  war  with  me ; ' 


49  The  king  was  cumand  thro  Cadden  ford. 
And  fiftene  thousand  men  was  he ; 
They  saw  the  forest  them  before. 
They  thought  it  awsom  for  to  see. 

60  Then  spak  the  erle  hight  Hamilton, 
And  to  the  nobil  king  said  he, 
My  sovereign  prince,  sum  counsell  take, 
First  at  your  nobles,  syne  at  me. 
VOL.  V.  25 


51  '  Desyre  him  meet  you  at  Penman's  Core,  - 

And  bring  four  in  his  cumpanie ; 
Fyve  erles  sail  gang  yoursell  before, 
Gude  cause  that  you  suld  honord  be. 

52  '  And,  if  he  refuses  to  do  that, 

Wi  fire  and  sword  we  '11  follow  thee  ; 
There  sail  never  a  Murray  after  him 
Have  land  in  Etrick  forest  frie.' 

53  The  king  then  called  a  gentleman. 

Royal-banner-bearer  then  was  he, 
James  Hope  Pringle  of  Torsonse  by  name ; 
He  came  and  knelit  upon  his  knie. 

54  *  Welcum,  James  Pringle  of  Torsonse  ; 

Ye  man  a  message  gae  for  me  ; 

Ye  man  gae  to  yon  Outlaw  Murray, 

Surely  where  bauldly  bideth  he. 

65  '  Bid  him  meet  me  at  Penman's  Core, 
And  bring  four  of  his  companie  ; 
Five  erles  sail  cum  wi  mysell, 
Gude  reason  I  suld  honord  be. 

56  *  And  if  he  refuses  to  do  that. 

Bid  him  look  for  nae  gude  o  me  ; 
There  sail  never  a  Murray  after  him 
Have  land  in  Etric  forest  frie.' 

57  James  came  before  the  Outlaw  keene, 

And  served  him  in  his  ain  degree : 
*  Wellcum,  James  Pringle  of  Torsonse, 
What  tidings  frae  the  king  to  me  ? ' 

58  *  He  bids  you  meet  him  at  Penman's  Core, 

And  bring  four  of  your  companie ; 
Five  erles  will  cum  with  the  king, 
Nae  more  in  number  will  he  be. 

69  *  And  gif  you  refuse  to  do  that, 
I  freely  here  upgive  with  thee. 
There  will  never  a  Murray  after  thee 
Have  land  in  Etrick  forest  frie. 

60  '  He  '11  cast  your  bonny  castell  down, 

And  make  a  widow  of  your  gay  ladie. 

He  '11  hang  your  merry  men  pair  by  pair 

In  ony  place  where  he  may  them  see.' 

61  '  It  stands  me  hard,'  the  Outlaw  said, 

'  Judge  if  it  stands  not  hard  with  me ; 


194 


305.     THE  OUTLAW  MURRAY 


•^I  reck  not  of  losing  of  mysell, 
But  all  my  offspring  after  me. 

62  *  Auld  Haliday,  young  Haliday, 

Ye  sail  be  twa  to  gang  wi  me ; 
Andrew  Murray  and  Sir  James  Murray, 
We  'U  be  nae  mae  in  cumpanie.' 

63  When  that  they  came  before  the  king, 

They  fell  before  him  on  their  knee : 
*  Grant  mercy,  mercy,  royal  king, 
Een  for  his  sake  who  died  on  tre ! ' 


If  you  be  not  traytour  to  the  king, 
Forf  aulted  sail  ye  never  be.' 

69  '  But,  prince,  what  sail  cum  o  my  men  ? 

When  I  go  back,  traitour  they  'U  ca  me ; 
I  had  rather  lose  my  life  and  land, 
Eer  my  merry  men  rebuked  me.' 

70  '  WiU  your  merry  men  amend  their  hves 

And  all  their  pardouns  I  grant  thee : 
Now  name  thy  landes  whe'ere  they  be,. 
And  here  I  render  them  to  thee.' 


64  *  Sicken-like  mercy  sail  ye  have. 

On  gallows  ye  sail  hangit  be  ; ' 
'  God  forbid ! '  quo  the  Outlaw  then, 
*  I  hope  your  Grace  will  better  be. 

65  '  These  lands  of  Etrick  forest  fair, 

I  wan  them  f rae  the  enemie ; 
Like  as  I  wan  them,  sae  will  I  keep  them, 
Contrair  all  kings  in  Christentie.' 

66  All  the  nobilis  said,  the  king  about, 

Pitye  it  were  to  se'e  him  die  : 
*  Yet  graunt  me  mercye,  sovereign  prince, 
Extend  your  favour  unto  me ! 

67  '  I  '11  give  you  the  l^eys  of  my  castell. 

With  th^blessing  of  my  fair  ladie  ; 
Mak  me  the  sherifE  of  the  forest. 
And  all  my  offspring  after  me.' 

68  '  Wilt  thou  give  me  the  keys  of  thy  castell, 

With  the  blessing  of  thy  fair  ladye  ? 
I  '11  mak  the[e]  shiryfE  of  the  forest, 
Surely  while  upwards  grows  the  trie  ; 


71 


72 


'  Fair  Philiphaugh,  prince,  is  my  awin, 
I  biggit  it  wi  lime  and  stane  ; 

The  Tinnies  and  the  Hangingshaw, 
My  leige,  are  native  steeds  of  mine. 


I  have  mony  steeds  in  the  forest  shaw. 
But  them  by  name  I  dinna  knaw.' 

73  The  keys  of  the  castell  he  gave  the  king. 

With  the  blessing  of  his  fair  ladye  ; 
He  was  made  sheryfp  of  Etrick  forest, 

Surely  while  upward  grows  the  trie ; 
And,  if  he  was  not  traytour  to  the  king, 

Forfaulted  he  suld  never  be. 

74  Wha  ever  heard,  in  ony  tymes, 

Sicken  an  outlaw  in  his  degree 
Sic  favour  get  before  a  king 

As  did  the   Outlaw  Murray  of   the   forest 
frie? 


B 

Glenriddell's  MSS,  XI,  61, 1791. 

1  Etterick  forest  's  a  pleasant  land, 

And  it  grows  mony  a  bonny  tree ; 
With  buck  and  doe  and  a'  wild  beast, 
A  castle  stands  right  bonnilie. 

2  Yon  castle  has  twa  unicorns, 

The  like  I  never  saw  wi  my  ee, 
The  picture  of  a  knight  and  lady  bright. 
And  the  green  hoUin  's  aboon  her  [bree]. 


3  Word  is  gane  to  Edinbro  town 

That  there  's  an  Outlaw  in  Etterick  forest 
That  keeps  as  fine  a  court  as  he. 

4  The  king  has  sworn  a  solemn  oath, 

And  he  has  sworn  by  [the  Virgin  Mary], 
He  would  either  be  king  of  Etterick  forest. 
Or  king  of  Scotland  the  Outlaw  should  be. 

5  He  has  ca'd  up  Mr  James  Boyd, 

A  highland  laird  I  'm  sure  was  he  : 


305.    THE   OUTLAW  MURRAY 


195 


*  Ye  must  gae  to  Etterick  forest 

And  see  of  wha  he  hads  his  land, 
And  wha  pays  yon  men  meat  and  fee.' 

6  He  's  tane  his  leave  o  the  king  and  court, 

Een  as  hard  as  he  may  dree ; 
When  he  came  in  o'er  Loudon  edge, 
He  viewed  the  forest  wi  his  eee. 

7  He  thought  it  was  as  pleasant  a  land 

As  ever  his  two  eyes  did  see, 
But  when  he  came  in  oer  .  .  .  , 

They  were  a'  ranked  on  Newark  lee. 

8  O  waly,  but  they  were  bonny  to  see  ! 

Five  hundred  men  playing  at  the  ba ; 
They  were  a'  clad  in  the  Lincoln  green. 
And  the  Outlaw's  sell  in  taffety. 

9  '  Weel  met  you  save,  Outlaw,'  he  says, 

'  You  and  your  brave  companie ; 
The  King  of  Scotland  hath  sent  me  here, 
To  see  whom  on  you  hold  your  lands. 
Or  who  pays  thir  men  meat  and  fee.' 

10  The  first  ae  man  the  answer  made,  j 

It  was  the  Outlaw  he  : 

*  The  lands  they  are  all  mine, 

And  I  pay  thir  men  meat  and  fee, 
And  as  I  wan  them  so  wiU  I  leee  them, 
Contrair  the  kings  o  Cristendie. 

11  '  I  never  was  a  king's  subject, 

And  a  king's  subject  I  'U  never  be  ; 
For  I  wan  them  i  the  fields  fighting, 

Where  him  and  his  nobles  durst  not  come 
and  see.' 

12  O  out  bespeaks  the  Outlaw's  lady, 

I  wot  she  spake  right  wisely  ; 
'  Be  good  unto  your  nobles  at  home, 
For  Edinbro  mine  shall  never  see  ; ' 
But  meat  and  drink  o  the  best  I  'm  sure  got 
he. 

13  He  has  taen  his  leave  o  the  Outlaw  free. 

And  een  as  hard  as  he  may  dree. 
While  he  came  to  the  king's  court, 

Where  he  kneeld  low  down  on  his  knee. 

14  *  What  news  ?  what  news,  James,'  he  says, 

'  Frae  yon  Outlaw  and  his  company  ? ' 

*  Yon  forest  is  as  fine  a  land  , 

As  ever  I  did  see. 


15  *  Yon  Outlaw  keeps  as  fine  a  court 

As  any  king  in  Cristendie  ; 
Yon  lands  they  are  here  all  his  own. 

And  he  pays  yon  men  meat  and  fee. 
And  as  he  wan  them  so  will  he  lose  them, 

Contrair  the  kings  of  Cristendie. 

16  '•He  never  was  a  king's  subject, 

And  a  king's  subject  he  '11  never  be  ; 
For  he  wan  them  in  the  fields  fighting, 

Where  the  king   and  his  nobles  durst  not 
come  to  see.' 

17  The  king  has  sworn  a  solemn  oath. 

And  he  has  sworn  by  the  Virgin  Mary, 
He  would  either  be  king  of  Etterick  forest. 
Or  king  of  Scotland  the  Outlaw  should  be. 

18  The  king  has  ca'd  up  Mr  James  Pringle, 

Laird  of  Torson[s]e  at  the  time  was  he  : 
'  Ye  must  gae  to  Etterick  forest, 
Ajid  see  wha  of  he  hads  his  land. 
And  wha  pays  yon  men  meat  and  fee.' 

19-25=6-12. 

26  *  And  as  I  wan  them  so  will  I  lose  them, 
Contrair  the  kings  o  Cristendie  ; 
I  wan  them  frae  t^e  Soudan  Turk, 

When  their  cuckold  king  diirst  not  come  to 
see; 
For  I  wan  them  in  the  fields  fighting. 

Where  him  and  his  nobles  durst  not  come 
to  see.' 

27-32=12-17. 

33  '  Gar  warn  me  Perthshire  and  Angus  both, 

Fifeshire  up  and  down,  and  Loudens  three. 
For  I  fear  of  them  we  hae  great  need. 


34  Then  word  is  come  to  the  Outlaw  then, 

'  Our  noble  king  comes  on  the  morn. 
Landless  men  ye  will  a'  be  ; ' 
He  's  called  up  his  little  foot-page. 
His  sister's  son  I  trow  was  he. 

35  '  Ye  must  tak  Etterick  head 

Een  as  hard  as  ye  can  drie ; 
Ye  must  gae  to  the  Corhead  and  tell 
Andrew  Brown  this  frae  me. 


196 


305.    THE  OUTLAW  MURRAY 


36  *  The  noble  king  comes  in  the  morn, 

And  landless  men  we  will  a'  be  ; 

And  tell  him  to  send  me  some  supply.' 

37  The  boy  has  taen  Etterick  head, 

And  een  as  hard  as  he  may  drie, 
Till  he  came  to  the  Corhead, 

And  he  shouted  out  and  cry'd  well  he. 

38  *  What  news  ?  what  news,  my  little  boy  ? 

What  news  has  thy  master  to  me  ?  ' 
'  The  noble  king  comes  in  the  morn, 
And  landless  then  ye  will  a'  be. 

39  '  Ye  must  meet  him  on  the  morn, 

And  mak  him  some  supply  ; ' 
'  For  if  he  get  the  forest  fair  f rae  him. 
He  '11  hae  Moffat-dale  f rae  me. 

40  *  I  '11  meet  him  the  morn  wi  five  hundred  men, 

And  fifty  mair,  if  they  may  be  ; 
And  if  he  get  the  forest  fair 

We  '11  a'  die  on  the  Newark  lee.' 

41  Word  is  gane  to  the  Border  then, 

To   ...   ,   the   country-keeper  I'm   sure 
was  he : 
'  The  noble  king  comes  in  the  morn. 
And  landless  men  ye  will  a'  be.' 

42  *  I  '11  meet  him  the  mom  wi  five  hundred  men, 

And  fifty  mair,  if  they  may  be  ; 
And  if  he  get  the  forest  fair, 
We  '11  a'  die  on  the  Newark  lee.' 

43  Word  is  gane  to  Philiphaugh, 

His  sister's  son  I  'm  sure  was  he, 
To  meet  him  the  morn  wi  some  supply, 
'  For  the  noble  king  comes  in  the  morn, 
And  landless  men  ye  will  a'  be.' 

44  '  In  the  day  I  daur  not  be  seen. 

For  he  took  a'  my  lands  f  rae  me 
And  gifted  me  them  back  again  ; 

Therefore  against  him  I  must  not  be  ; 
For  if  I  be  found  against  him  rebel, 

It  will  be  counted  great  treason[rie]. 

45  *  In  the  day  I  daur  not  be  seen. 

But  in  the  night  he  shall  me  find 
With  five  hundred  men  and  fifty,  if  they 
may  be, 


And  before  he  get  the  forest  fair 
We  '11  a'  die  on  the  Newark  lee.' 

46  When  the  king  came  in  oer  Loudon  edge, 

Wi  three  thousand  weel  teld  was  he, 
And  when  he  came  in  oer  .  .  . 
He  viewd  that  forest  wi  his  ee. 

47  The  Outlaw  and  his  men  were  a' 

Ranked  on  the  Newark  lee  ; 
They  were  a'  clad  in  the  Lincoln  green, 
And  he  himsell  in  the  taffety. 

48  An  auld  grey-haird  knight  has  taen  aff  his 

cap. 


*  Pardon,  pardon,  my  sovereign  liege. 
Two  or  three  words  to  speak  wi  you. 

49  '  If  you  please  to  send  for  the  Outlaw, 

To  see  if  he  could  with  you  agree, 
There  's  not  a  man  yon  Outlaw  has 
But  of  yours  he  '11  choose  to  be.* 

50  The  king  he  has  taen  af  his  cap, 

He  held  it  on  his  majesty  ; 
'  I  '11  meet  him  the  morn  at  the  poor  man's 
house, 
In  number  not  above  two  or  three ; ' 
The  Outlaw  says,  I  '11  hae  as  few  as  thee. 

51  *  There 's  Andrew  Brown,  and  Andrew  Murray, 

And  Mess  James  Murray  shall  gang  wi  me, 

And  nae  mae  shall  my  number  be.' 

52  And  when  they  came  to  the  poor  man's  core 

They  waited  two  lang  hours  or  three. 
And  they  were  aware  of  the  noble  king  com- 
ing, 
And  hundreds  three  in  his  company. 

53  *  I  wonder  what  the  muckle  Deel 

He  '11  learned  kings  to  lie. 
For  to  fetch  me  here  frae  amang  my  men 

Even  like  a  dog  for  to  die  ; 
But  before  I  gang  to  Edinbro  town 

Monny  toom  saddles  shall  there  be.' 

54  The  king  he  has  taen  aff  his  cap ; 


'  It  [were]  great  offence  here,'  he  says, 
'  And  great  pity  to  see  thee  die. 


305.    THE  OUTLAW  MURRAY 


197 


65  '  For  thou  shalt  be  laerd  o  this  forest  f air 
As  lang  as  upwards  grows  the  tree 
And  downward  the  twa  rivers  run, 

If  the  steads  thou  can  but  rightly  name  to 
.  me.* 


66  '  There 's   Hangingshaw  high   and   Hanging- 
shaw  laigh, 

The  Tinis  and  the  Tinis-burn, 

The  Newark  and  the  Newark  lee.' 


"  Scotch  Ballads,  Materials  for  Border  Minstrelsy,"  No  31, 
Abbotsford ;  in  the  handwriting  of  William  Laidlaw. 

1  *  Gae  fetch  to  me  James  Pringle  wi  hast, 

An  see  that  he  come  speedilie, 
For  he  maun  on  to  Ettrick  forest, 

An   see   whae    pays  yon    men   meat  and 
fee.' 

2  When  James  Pringle  cam  down  oer  Birken- 

dalee, 
The  hawks  war  yellin  right  loudUe, 
The  hunds  war  rinnin  oer  hill  and  dale, 
As  the  bugle-horn  soundit  bonnilie. 

3  '  Gae  tell  yer  king  this  land  's  my  ain, 

An  to  thir  men  I  pay  meat  and  fee ; 
I  took  it  thrae  the  Souden  Turk, 

When  nae  sic  cuckold  king  might  be. 

4  '  Sae  as  I  wan,  sae  will  I  lose, 

Spite  o  the  kings  in  Christendie ; 
I  never  was  a  king's  subject. 

Nor  a  king's  subject  will  I  ever  be.' 

6  '  Outlaw  Murray  says  yon  land  's  his  ain, 
And  to  yon  men  he  pays  meat  and  fee ; 
He  took  it  frae  the  Souden  Turk, 

When  you  and  your  men  durstna  come  and 
see.' 

6  It  was  than  the  king  he  gat  up  in  hast, 

An  wow  an  angrie  man  was  he  ! 
'  I  'se  either  be  king  o  Ettrick  forest, 
Or  king  o  Scotland  sal  he  be. 

7  *  Gar  warn  me  Fife  an  a'  Lothian  land, 

An  Perth  an  Angus,  to  ride  wi  me. 


For  gin  we  war  five  thousan  Strang 
Master  and  mair  I  fear  he  '11  be.' 

8  When  the  king  came  oer  be  Birkendalee, 

He  spy'd  the  forest  wi  his  ee ; 
There  war  daes  an  raes  an  monie  wild  beast. 
An  a  castle  staimin  right  bonniUe. 

9  An  in  that  castle  a  unicorn, 

An,  waly,  but  they  war  fair  to  see ! 
A  warlike  knight  and  a  lady  bright. 
An  the  green  halleen  aboon  her  bree. 

10  An  Outlaw  Murray  an  his  merry  men 

War  a'  rankit  up  i  the  Newark  lee, 
Well  mountit  on  a  milk-white  steed ; 
Waly,  he  rankit  them  bonnilie  ! 

11  His  men  war  a  clad  oer  wi  green. 

An  he  was  clad  i  the  taffatie, 
Wi  belt  an  pistle  by  his  side  ; 
O  waly,  but  they  war  fair  to  see  ! 


12  '  Haliday  young  an  Halliday  auld. 

Ye  ir  the  men  that  man  ride  wi  me ; 
But  gin  we  war  five  hunder  Strang 
Master  an  mair  I  fear  they  'U  be.' 


13  '  Philliphaugh  it  is  my  ain. 

An  Newark  it  belangs  to  me ; 
Lewinshope  an  Hanginshaw 

Nae  mortal  man  can  claim  thrae  me.' 

******* 

14  It  was  than  James  Boyd  got  up  in  hast, 

An  to  his  merry  men  a'  spak  he ; 


198 


305.    THE  OUTLAW  MURRAY 


A.  a.  The  division  of  stanzas  a^  made  in  the 
MS.  has  been  changed  in  19^-23^  685-73«. 
Of  course  all  the  stanzas  were  originally 
of  four  verses,  but  in  some  cases  it  is  not 
now  possible  to  determine  at  what  points 
verses  have  been  lost.  Two  lines  are  in  the 
MS.  indicated  {conjecturally,  no  doubt)  to 
have  dropped  out  after  Al%  48^,  70*.  41^-* 
have  been  supplied  from  the  copy  in  Herd's 
first  volume.  There  are  asterisks  in  Herd 
I  after  52*. 

1*    Cf  16^  29*,  and  b. 

4:\  32^.  Cf.  19^  and  b.    But  c  agrees  with  a. 

5*.  Side  note  in  MS. :  James  II,  1454. 

31*.  Hved.     342.  Cf  b,  c. 

Variations  in  Herd,  I  (not  regarding  spell- 
ing).    2*,  4^.  are  wanting.     3*.  the  brie. 

3*.  hundir.     5*.  his  country. 

6^  then  wanting.     11*.  he  dwelleth  he. 

16*.  him  near  by.     17^  fair  front. 

218.  land.     31^  and  a. 

31*.  keeps  him  :  hunder. 

35^  Outlaws  (wrongly). 

41''*.  As  supplied  in  the  text.     Cf  c. 

58^  bring  him  four. 

58*.  Nae  mae.    62*.  nae  mair.    63*.  sake  that. 

65^.  Thir.     68*.  mak  thee.     68*.  upward. 
b.  1^,  There  's  hart  and  hynd  and  dae  and  rae. 

1*.  wilde  beastes.     2\  a  feir.     3'.  keeps. 

4^.  are  a'  in  ae.     4?.  sae  gaye. 

4*.  gin  they  lived. 

5*.  nor  a'.    6*.  outlaw  sail.     7\  50^.  the  lord. 

7*.  at  your  :  at  me.     8-^.  ye. 

9^  And  wanting. 

9%  12S  13*,  213,  354,  444,  481,  65S  70«.  landis. 

10^.  then  called  a.     10^.  the  erle. 

10*.  He  knelit.     11*.  where  bydeth. 

12*.  And  desyre.     13^^.  sail  gie. 

16*.  hym  neir  bi.     17^  Of  that. 

17^.  castell  feir.     17*.  were  gaye. 

18*.  on  Newark  lee.     19^.  were  a'. 

19^.  sae  gaye. 

19*.  1802,  gin.     1803,  instead  of  19''* : 
His  men  were  a'  clad  in  the  grene, 
The  knight  was  armed  capapie, 
With  a  bended  bow,  on  a  milk-white  steed, 
And  I  wot  they  ranked  right  bonilie. 

196.  Thereby  Boyd.    20*.  seemis.    22^.  I  ken. 

22*.  his  knightis.     238,  378,  58^  ye. 

23^  hath.     258,  50*.  nobihs.     26".  befor  a. 

27".  James  Boyd.     28^.  When  James  he. 

28^*.  He  knelit  lowlie  on  :  seyd  our. 

30*.  in  the  forefront.     SI'',  and  a. 


312.  -y^i  the. 

31*.  He  keepis  a  royalle  oumpanie. 
32^.  in  ae.     32^*.  sae  gaye.     32*.  gin. 
332.  frae  the  Southronie.     33*,  65*.  kingis. 
34.  '  Gar  warn  me  Perthshire  and  Angus  baith, 
Fife  up  and  down  and  the  Louthians 
three,  (cf  B  SS^'") 
And  graith  my  horse,'  said  the  nobU  king, 
'  For  to  Ettricke  Foreste  hie  will  I  me.' 
358.  1803,  cuming.     36*.  1802,  cumand. 
372.  hie  them.     37»,  69^.  gae. 
38*'*.  The  king  cums  on  for  Ettricke  Foreste, 
And  landless  men  we  a'  will  be.     (Cf 
B34.) 
40^  said. 
41 2.  surely  mair. 
Between  ^V^'^  and  41'-* : 

And  before  he  gets  the  Foreste  feir. 

We  a'  will  die  on  Newark  Lee.      (Cf.  B 
40.) 
41*'*.  The  Outlaw  calld  a  messenger. 

And  bid  him  hie  him  speedilye. 
43  wanting.     44^.  Andrew  Murray  said. 
442,  612.  gi£ .  j^a     444_  ^nd  set.      45K  if. 
458.  laird  wanting. 

47  ^'2.  And  now  he  is  cuming  (1802,  cumand) 
to  Ettricke  Foreste, 
And  landless  men  ye  a'  will  be.  (Cf.  B 
41»*). 
47*.  will  I  live.     48^.  1802,  canna :  warse. 
491.  1803,  cuming.     49^.  full  five. 
49*.  the  derke.     50'.  sovereign  liege. 
51^  mete  thee.     52S  56^  gif. 
52^.  We  '11  conquess  baith  his  landis  and  he. 
62*.  Hald. 
Between  b2i  and  53 : 

Then  spak  the  kene  laird  of  Buckscleuth, 
A  stalworthye  man  and  sterne  was  he ; 

'  For  a  king  to  gang  an  Outlaw  till 
Is  beneath  his  state  and  his  dignitie. 

*  The  man  that  wons  yon  Foreste  intill, 

He  lives  by  reif  and  f  elonie  ; 
Wherefore,  brayd  on,  my  sovereign  liege, 

Wi  fire   and   sword  we  '11   follow  thee ; 
(see  a  52^) 
Or,  gif  your  courtrie  lords  fa  back, 

Our  borderers  sail  the  onset  gie.' 

Then  out  and  spak  the  nobil  king. 
And  round  him  cast  a  wilie  ee  ; 

*  Now  baud  thy  tongue,  sir  Walter  Scott, 

Nor  speik  of  reif  nor  felonie, 


305.     THE   OUTLAW   MURRAY 


199 


For,  had  everye  honeste  man  his  awin  kye, 
A  right  puir  clan  thy  name  wad  be.' 

532.  there  was.     53«.  Hop. 

54^^.  A  message  ye  maun  gang. 

55^  58'.  four  in.     57*.  What  message. 

58^  erles  sail  gang  himsell  befor. 

59^'*.  He  'U  cast  yon  bonny  castle  down, 

And  mak  a  widowe  o  that  gaye  ladye. 
60.  He  '11  loose  yon  bluidhound  borderers 
Wi  fire  and  sword  to  follow  thee  ; 
There  will  nevir  a  Murray  after  thysell 
Have  land  in  Ettricke  Foreste  frie. 
61®.  Wha  reck  not  losing. 
After  61 : 

My  merryemen's  lives,  my  widowe's  teirs, 

There  lies  the  pang  that  pinches  me  ! 
When  I  am  straught  in  bluidie  eard, 
Yon  castell  will  be  right  dreirie. 
63*.  nobil  king.     63*.  sake  that. 
64®.  Over  God's   forbode,  quoth. 
After  64*  {added  in  1803)  : 

Else  ere  ye  come  to  Edinburgh  port 
I  trow  thin  guarded  sail  ye  be. 
65^.  Thir.     65^^.  from. 
66^.  said  wanting. 
66^.  Said  pitie.     67^  give  thee. 
67',  68^^.  gaye /or  fair. 
67®.  Gin  thoult  mak  me  sheriffe  of  this. 
68®.  I'se:  of  Ettricke  Foreste.    68".  sail  thou. 
70®.  they  lie. 
71.  1802. 

Fair  Philiphaugh,  prince,  is  my  ain, 

But  and  a  part  of  the  Newark  lee, 
The  Finnies  and  the  Hangingshaw, 
My  liege,  are  native  steads  to  me. 
1803. 
Fair  Philiphaugh  is  mine  by  right, 

And  Lewinshope  still  mine  shall  be ; 
Newark,  FoulshieUs  and  Tinnies  baith 
My  bow  and  arrow  purchased  me. 
72i>'».  1803. 

And  I  have  native  steads  to  me 

The  Newark  lee  and  Hangingshaw ; 
73*.  upwards.  73^.  was  na. 
c.  T%is  copy  agrees  closely,  as  to  substance,  with 
a.  After  50*  it  has  two  lines,  partially 
corrupted,  which  do  not  occur  in  a,  and  it 
lacks  St.  60,  which,  it  is  to  be  observed, 
does  not  occur  in  the  king's  instructions  to 
Pringle,  54-56  (though  found  in  the  instruc- 
tions to  Boyd,  14:),  and  was  therefore  not  to 
be  expected.     Verbal  differences  are  numer- 


ous, but  in  only  a  very  few  cases  of  the  least 
importance,  and  in  these  for  the  worse. 

1*,  16^,  29*.  wUd  beasts.     2\  builded  of. 

2®.  There 's  in.     2*.  is  braw.     3^  and  lady. 

3*'*,  31®.  keeps.     4^.  men 's  in  livery. 

4'.  is  fair.     4*.  O  gin.     5*.  country. 

6^.  then  wanting.     6*.  sail  be. 

7\  26^  spoke.     7*.  good  nobles,  and  syne. 

8%  451,  59^.  if.     8K  yon  man. 

8®,  12®,  42®,  51S  551.  him  to. 

9\  13®,  19*,  23®,  302,  314^  324^  408.  gin. 

9S13®.  refuse.     9^,  13*,  23*,  35*.  conqueist. 

9®.  we  '11  cast. 

9*,  14^  23«,  432.  his  (thy,  my)  fair. 

10*.  and  his  brother-in-law. 

111.  gaid  the.     11^.  gae.     11®.  to  fair  E. 

12^.  holds.     12*.  yon  fair  forrest  of  me. 

131,  152,  44®.  Till.     141.  may :  I  'se. 

16®.  There  heard  he  bows  did. 

16*.  whithering  him  near  by.     17^.  the  great. 

17®.  the  castle  he  saw.     17*.  unicorns  so  braw. 

191.  They  were  all  in  ane.     19*.  not  royallie. 

19^.  he  knew.     19'.  He  served. 

20^  Good  mot  ye. 

20^.  Thy  fair  lady  and  thy. 

21^.  he  sent.     21*.  may  your.     22*.  lands  is. 

222.  ^nd  I  ken.     22®.  From  Soldan  Turk. 

22*.  king  and  his  men  was. 

23^  ye,  man,  to  come.     23®.  ye.     24®.  Then. 

24*.  wiUI.     252.  Thir  lands. 

25®.  they  sail  lie.     26^.  Said  she. 

26®.  That  any :  enter  before  a.     26*.  rad  for. 

27^  lords.     27®.  leave  at. 

27*.  Unto  :  bound  he. 

291.  is  ane  of  the :  f orrests.     30*.  that  fair  c. 

31^.  There  's  wanting :  and  a.     31®.  There  an. 

31*.  Uve.     32^  is  in  1.     32'.  is  fair. 

331.  is  truely  his. 

332.  He  says  he  :  Soldanie. 

33®.  Like  as :  he  loss  it.     34'.  In  E.  Forrest. 

34*.  And  made  for.     35^.  to  the. 

352.  where  lay.     35®.  coming  to  this. 

35*.  And  ould.     36®.  Will :  men  take. 

36*.  Your :  sail.     37*.  speed  them. 

38^.  Be  certain  he. 

38*.  And  bid  him  come  and. 

38®.  Till  Halliday  tiU  that  he  come. 

38*.  You  show.     39®.  Nought. 

40S  UK  said.     40®,  69®.  loss.    41".  if  L 

41®'*  wanting.     42^.  Laird  of. 

42*,  472.  that  wanting.     W,  61^.  O  gin  it. 

452.  in  the  night  ye.     45*.  right  hastUie. 

46®.  needs  me.     47^  desired  ye  to. 


200 


305.    THE  OUTLAW  MURRAY 


48^.  he 's.     48'.  no  worse  for. 
49^  coming  oar  Cadron.     49*.  awfu. 
60''.  Unto.     60*.  First  of  :  and  then  of. 
After  50*: 

Yet  I  raid  you  send  yon  Outlaw  till, 
And  if  you  man  them,  come  will  he. 
{Repetition,  with  corruption,  of  S^*'.) 
61».  four  of  the  best  of.     61S  62^.  gae. 
61',  65'.  aun  sell.     51*.  Good  reason  you. 
62^.  follow  will  we. 
52'.  never  after  him  again. 
63^.  king  he  called.     53^  bearer  of  Scotland. 
63'.  Hoppringle.     63*.  on. 
64\  67'.  Laird  of.    642-8.  Thou.    56i.  Desire. 
66 '^j  58^  Bring  four  of  the  best  of  the  (your). 
66*.  reason  in  some  part  I.     56'^.   good  from. 
67*.  What  biddings.     68^.  desires  you  to. 
68*.  Naemae.     59^  ye.     59^.  Truelie  here  I. 
60  wanti7ig.     61'.  What  rack  of  the. 
62'.  Sir  wanting.     63*.  sake  that. 
64^  Siccan  mercie  you  sal.     64^^.  sal  you. 
64'.  said  the  O.  syne.     65^.  The. 
65^.  from.   65'.  sae  will  I  loss.  66^.  noblemen. 
66^^.  Pitie,  Outlaw :  see  thee. 
66*.  Let  your  favour  be  given  to. 
67^.  my  fair. 

67'.  Why,  ye  will  make  me  sheriff :  the  fair. 
68^.  Will  ye :  your.     68^.  of  your. 
68'.  of  Ettrick  Forrest. 
68^  If  ye  be  not  a  :  to  your. 
68«.  Forfeited. 

69^.  But  alace,  prince  :  become.     69'.  lands. 
70^.  thy.     70=*.  grant  I  frie.     70'.  where. 
71*.  Prince,  they  are  native  lands. 
72*.  But  well  their  names  I  do  not. 
73'.  He  made  him. 
73^  a  traitor  to  the  crown.     73^  should  he. 


74^.  any  time.     74'.  Sic  ane  Outlaw. 

74*.  Outlaw  in  the  Forrest. 
d.  The  MS.  extant  in  the  Philiphaugh  ar- 
chives exhibits,  besides  many  differences  of 
spelling,  the  following  variations  in  read- 
ing from  o  as  printed  by  Aytoun : 

5^.  Side  note :  Jas  the  2d,  1464. 

17*.  is  braybr*  so  braw. 

19^^.  is  fair/or  so  fair. 

21*.  makfor  man,  wrongly. 

22'.  From  Soudron/or  From  Soldan  Turk. 

24^^.  see /'or  find.     26^.  said  wanting,  wrongly. 

33^.  Soudonie /or  Soldanie. 

33',  66'.  tyne /or  loss.     38'.  Tell /or  Till. 

40*.  Mosaldale /or  Moffat-dale. 

43'^.  ane  for  a.     45^.  he  for  ye. 

48^  work /or  worse,  wrongly. 

60*.  syne  for  then. 

61^,  55^  58^  Penman  score,  wrongly. 

62^,  56^.  refuse  for  refuses. 

66*.  f rae  for  from. 

66^.  Tbir /or  the. 

73^  With  his /or  With  the,  wrongly. 
B.     The  division  of  stanzas  has  been  rearranged. 

5'.  "  Reciters,"  says  Scott,  "  sometimes  call  the 
messenger  the  laird  of  Skene." 

21=8.     21'.  the  wanting.     21*.  in  the. 

22=9.     22*.  land.     24=11.     24*.  come  to. 

35'.  Carhead. 

60,  64.  Passing  over  the  king''s  taking  off  his 
cap  to  an  outlaw,  which  is  monstrously  '  be- 
neath his  state  and  his  dignitie,'  /  can  make 
nothing  of  the  line  which  succeeds  in  each 
of  these  stanzas. 

62^.  score  for  core. 
O.     14.  Displaced.     James  Boyd  should  of  course 
come  in  before  James  Pringle. 


FRAGMENTS 


"  Dispersed  thro  Shakspere's  plays  are 
innumerable  little  fragments  of  ancient  bal- 
lads, tbe  entire  copies  of  which  could  not  be 
recovered,"  says  Bishop  Percy  in  his  preface 
to  *The  Friar  of  Orders  Gray.'  What  he 
says  of  Shakspere  is  equally  true  of  Beaumont 
and  Fletcher,  but  it  is  not  true,  in  either  case, 
that  there  are  many  fragments  of  popular 
traditional  ballads.  Portions  of  ballads  of 
one  kind  or  another,  and  still  more  of  songs, 
are  introduced  into  the  plays  of  these  authors, 
though  not  so  frequently  as  one  would  sup- 
pose from  Percy's  words.  Ten  of  the  twenty- 
eight  stanzas  of  '  The  Friar  of  Orders  Gray  ' 
are  taken,  mostly  in  part  only,  from  Shak- 
spere and  Fletcher,*  but  the  original  verses 
are  from  songs,  not  properly  from  ballads. 
It  is  not,  however,  always  easy  to  say  whether 
an  isolated  stanza  belonged  to  a  ballad  or  a 
song.  Some  snatches  from  familiar  ballads, 
which  occur  in  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  have 
already  been  given  at  the  proper  places.  A 
few  bits  from  unknown  pieces,  which  occur 
in  Shakspere,  or  Beaumont  and  Fletcher 
(strictly,  perhaps,  Fletcher),  will  be  given 
here.  It  is  surprising  that  other  dramatists 
have  not  furnished  something. 

A  very  meagre  gathering  of  fragments  from 
other  sources  follows  those  which  have  been 
gleaned  from  the  dramatists,  but  it  must  be 
once  more  said  that  there  is  not  an  absolute 
certainty  that  all  of  these  belong  to  ballads. 

Some  popular  tales  are  interspersed  with 


verses  of  a  ballad  character,  and  one  or  two 
cases  have  been  incidentally  noted  already. 
Examples  are  *  The  Paddo,'  Chambers's  Pop- 
ular Rhymes  of  Scotland,  1870,  p.  87 ;  f  '  The 
Red  Etin,'  ih.  p.  89  ;  '  The  Black  Bull  of  Nor- 
roway,'  ih.  p.  95  ;  '  Child  Rowland  and  Burd 
Ellen,'  Illustrations  of  Northern  Antiquities, 
p.  397 ;  $  '  The  Golden  Ball,'  see  No  96,  H, 
II,  353-55. 

SHAKSPERE 

From  King  Lear,  Act  iii,  sc.  4,  printed  1608. 
Child  Rowland  to  the  darke  tower  came. 
His  word  was  still,  Fy,  fo,  and  fumme ! 
I  smell  the  bloud  of  a  British  man. 

1.  So  1623 :  both  quartos,  darke  towne  come. 

Act  iii,  sc.  6. 

Sleepest  or  wakest  thou,  jolly  shepheard  ? 

Thy  sheepe  bee  in  the  come  ; 
And  for  one  blast  of  thy  minikin  mouth 
Thy  sheepe  shall  take  no  harme. 

From  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew,  Act  iv,  sc.  1,  printed 
1623,  J,  221. 

It  was  the  friar  of  orders  gray, 
As  he  forth  walked  on  his  way. 

BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER 

From  The  Knight  of  the  Burning  Pestle,  produced  ap- 
parently in  1611,  Act  ii,  sc.  8;  Dyce,  II,  173. 

She  cares  not  for  her  daddy, 

Nor  she  cares  not  for  her  mammy, 


«  Stanza  l^-*  of  Percy's  ballad  is  from  The  Taming  of  the 
Shrew,  iv,  1 ;  3,  5,  7,  are,  wholly  or  in  part,  from  Hamlet, 
iv,  5;  12,  13,  from  Fletcher's  Queen  of  Corinth,  iii,  2;  15 
from  Hamlet,  as  before;  17,  18,  from  Much  Ado  about 
Nothing,  ii,  3 ;  one  line  of  22  from  King  Lear,  iii,  4. 

t  The  verses  from  this  tale  are  printed  separately  in 
Buchan's  Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  I,  117,  'The 
Maid  and  Fairy.' 

X  But  Jamieson  confesses:  "Of  the  verses  which  have 
been  introduced  I  cannot  answer  for  the  exactness  of  any, 
vol..  T.  26 


except  the  stanza  put  into  the  mouth  of  the  king  of  Elf- 
land,  which  was  indelibly  impressed  upon  my  memory 
[though  J.  was  only  seven  or  eight  years  old]  long  before  I 
knew  anything  of  Shakspere."  The  stanza  is :  [in  came  the 
king  of  Elfland,] 

'  With  fi,  fi,  fo  and  fum  ! 

I  smell  the  blood  of  a'Christian  man  ; 
Be  he  dead,  be  he  living,  wi  my  brand 

I  '11  clash  his  hams  frae  his  ham-pan.* 


202 


FRAGMENTS 


For  she  is,  she  is,  she  is,  she  is 
My  lord  of  Lowgave's  lassy. 
{Perhaps  only  a  song.) 

Give  him  flowers  enow,  palmer,  give  him  flowers 

enow, 
Give  him  red  and  white,  and  blue,  green,  and 

yellow. 

Act  V,  sc.  iii ;  Dyce,  p.  226. 

With  that  came  out  his  paramour, 
She  was  as  white  as  the  lily-flower. 
Hey,  troul,  troly,  loly 

With  that  came  out  her  own  dear  knight, 
He  was  as  true  as  ever  did  fight. 

From  Bonduca,  produced  before  March,  1619 :  Act  v, 
sc.  2,  Dyce,  V,  88. 

It  was  an  old  tale,  ten  thousand  times  told. 
Of  a  young  lady  was  turnd  into  mould, 
Her  life  it  was  lovely,  her  death  it  was  bold. 

From  The  Two  Noble    Kinsmen,  printed  in  1634,  Act 
iii,  sc.  4;  Dyce,  XI,  383. 

For  I  'U  cut  my  green  coat  a  foot  above  my  knee, 
And  I  'U  clip  my  yellow  locks  an  inch  below  mine  ee. 
Hey,  nonny,  nonny,  nonny 

He 's  buy  me  a  white  cut,  forth  for  to  ride, 
And  I  '11  go  seek  him  through  the  world  that  is  so 
wide. 
Hey,  nonny,  nonny,  nonny 


The  Complaynt  of  Scotland,  1549,  gives 
two  lines  of  a  song  on  the  murder,  in  1517,  of 
the  Sieur  de  la  Bastie,  a  distinguished  knight 
in  the  service  of  the  Regent,  Duke  of  Albany. 
The  song  may,  or  may  not,  have  been  a  ballad. 

God  sen  the  Due  hed  byddin  in  France, 
And  Delabaute  hed  neuyr  cum  hame. 

ed.  Ley  den,  p.  100. 


The  History  of  the  Houses  of  Douglas  and  Angus,  written 
by  Master  David  Hume  of  Godscroft,  p.  155,  Edinburgh, 
1644. 

Of  the  treacherous  execution  of  William, 
sixth  Earl  of  Douglas,  at  the  castle  of  Edin- 
burgh, in  1440,  Hume  of  Godscroft  says :  "  It 


is  sure  the  people  did  abhorre  it,  execrating 
the  very  place  where  it  was  done;  in  detesta- 
tion of  the  fact  of  which  the  memory  remain- 
eth  yet  to  our  dayes  in  these  words."  Since 
Hume  mentions  no  ballad,  it  is  not  likely  that 
he  knew  of  more  than  this  single  stanza,  or 
that  more  existed.  (Sir  Walter  Scott,  how- 
ever, confidently  assumes  that  there  was  a 
ballad.     Minstrelsy,  1833,  I,  221  f.) 

Edinburgh  castle,  towue,  and  tower, 
God  grant  thou  sinke  for  sinne  ! 

And  that  even  for  the  black  dinner 
Earle  Douglas  got  therein. 


Written  on  the  fly-leaf  of  a  little  volume  printed  at  Edin- 
burgh about  1670  (Quevedo's  Novels),  Laing  MSS,  Univer- 
sity of  Edinburgh,  Div.  II,  358.  (Communicated  by  Mr 
Macmath.) 

'  He  steps  full  statly  on  y®  stre[et],  j 

He  bads  y®  charters  of  him  sell,  / 

In  to  his  cloathing  he  is  compl[ete],  j . 

In  Craford's  mure  he  bears  y®  bell.  ' 


'I  wish  I  had  died  my  own  fai[r]  death. 
In  tender  age,  q°  I  was  young ; 

I  would  never  have  broke  my  heart 
For  y*  love  of  any  churl's  son. 

*  Wo  be  to  my  parents  all, 

Y'  lives  so  f arr  beyond  y*  sea ! 

I  might  have  lived  a  noble  life, 
And  wedded  in  my  own  country.' 


<''i 


Finlay's  Scottish  Ballads,  I,  xxxii. 

A  "  romantic  ballad,  of  which,  unfortu- 
nately, one  stanza  only  has  been  preserved. 
The  tradition  bears  that  a  young  lady  was 
carried  away  by  the  fairies,  and  that,  although 
invisible  to  her  friends  who  were  in  search  of 
her,  she  was  sometimes  heard  by  them  la- 
menting her  destiny  in  a  pathetic  song,  of 
which  the  stanza  just  mentioned  runs  nearly 
thus :  " 

0  Alva  hills  is  bonny, 

Dalycoutry  hills  is  fair, 
But  to  think  on  the  braes  of  Menstrie 

It  maks  my  heart  fu  sair. 


FRAGMENTS 


203 


KING  EDELBRODE 

Sent  by  Motherwell  to  C.  K.  Sharpe,  with  a  letter  dated 
October  8,  1825.  Also  entered  in  Motherwell's  Note-Book,- 
p.  53  (excepting  the  second  line  of  the  first  stanza). 

King  Edelbrode  cam  owre  the  sea, 

Fa  la  UUy 
All  for  to  marry  a  gay  ladye. 

Fa  la  liUy. 

(Then  follows  the  description  of  a  queen, 
jimp  and  sma,  not  remembered.) 

Her  lilly  hands,  sae  white  and  sma, 

Fa  la  lilly 
Wi  gouden  rings  were  buskit  braw. 

Fa  la  lilly 

"  I  cannot  get  any  precise  account  of  its 
subject,  but  it  related  somehow  to  a  most 
magnificent  marriage.  The  old  lady  who 
sung  it  died  some  years  ago."  (Letter  to 
Sharpe.) 

"  It  may  be  the  same  ballad  as  the  scrap 
I  have,  with  something  of  a  similar  chorus." 
(Note-Book,  where  the  "  chorus "  is  Fa  fa 
lilly.) 

The  reference  seems  to  be  to  '  The  Whum- 
mil  Bore,'  No  27,  I,  255. 


And  he  was  standing  by, 
With  a  red  cap  on  his  head. 


C.  K.  Sharpe's  Letters,  ed.  Allardyce,  11,  106  (1813). 

'  O  come  you  from  the  earth  ?  '  she  said, 
*  Or  come  you  from  the  skye  ?  * 

*  Oh,  I  am  from  yonder  churchyard. 
Where  my  crumbling  relicks  lie.' 

Sharpe  somewhere  asks.  Where  does  this 
belong  ? 

Possibly  in  some  version  of  '  Proud  Lady 
Margaret,'  No  47,  II,  425. 


MS.  of  Thomas  Wilkie,  p.  79,  "  Scotch  Ballads,  Materials 
for  Border  Minstrelsy,"  No  73  a,  Abbotsford. 

The  great  bull  of  Bendy-law 
Has  broken  his  band  and  run  awa, 
And  the  king  and  a'  his  court 
Canna  turn  that  bull  about. 


"  Scotch  Ballads,  Materials  for  Border  Minstrelsy,"  No 
86  a,  Abbotsford,  in  the  handwriting  of  Thomas  Wilkie. 

Red-Cap  he  was  there, 
And  he  was  there  indeed, 


"  Scotch  Ballads,  Materials  for  Border  Minstrelsy,"  No 
73  a ;  MS.  of  Thomas  Wilkie,  Abbotsford,  derived  by 
Wilkie  from  his  father,  "  who  heard  a  Lady  Brigs  sing 
this  when  he  was  a  boy." 

He  took  a  sword  in  every  hand 

And  on  the  house  did  venture, 
And  swore  if  they  wad  not  gee  her  up 

He  would  make  all  their  doors  play  clatter. 

Her  angry  father,  when  he  saw  this. 
That  he  would  lose  his  ae  daughter. 

He  swore  if  he  had  not  been  gude  at  the  sword 
He  durst  not  come  to  make  his  doors  clatter. 


It  was  far  in  the  night,  and  the  bairnies  grat ; 
The  mither  beneath  the  mools  heard  that. 

sung  in  Wuthering  Heights,  ch.  9,  has  not 
unnaturally  been  taken  for  a  relic  of  a  tradi- 
tional Scottish  ballad  of  a  dead  mother  re- 
turning to  her  abused  children.  It  is,  in  fact, 
a  stanza  (not  literally  well  remembered)  from 
the  Danish  ballad  '  Moderen  under  Mulde,' 
Grundtvig,  II,  470,  No  89,  B  11,  translated 
by  Jamieson,  and  given  in  the  notes  to  the 
fourth  canto  of  Scott's  Lady  of  the  Lake. 


The  following  "  fragment,"  given  in  Mother- 
well's MS.,  p.  184,  «  from  Mr  William  Steele 
of  Greenock,  advocate,"  I  suppose  to  have 
been  the  effort  of  a  self-satisfied  amateur,  and 
to  have  been  written  as  a  fragment.  The 
third  and  fourth  stanzas  recall  the  broadside 
ballad  '  The  Lady  Isabella's  Tragedy.' 

Lady  Margaret  has  bound  her  silken  snood 

A  little  aboon  her  bree, 
Lady  Margaret  has  kilted  her  grey  mantel 

A  little  aboon  her  knee. 

Lady  Margaret  has  left  her  bonnie  bower. 

But  and  her  father's  ha, 
And  with  Lord  Hugh  Montgomerie 

Lady  Margaret  has  gane  awa. 

******** 

'  I  have  made  a  bed,  Lady  Margaret, 
Beneath  the  hawthorn-tree ; 


X 


\/ 


204 


FRAGMENTS 


It 's  lang  and  it 's  deep,  and  there  thou  shalt 
sleep 
Till  I  come  back  to  thee.' 


Then  out  and  spake  her  father  dear, 

As  he  sat  down  to  dine, 
'  Gae,  page,  and  tell  Lady  Margaret  to  come 

And  fill  for  me  the  wine. 

'  Gae,  page,  and  tell  Lady  Margaret  to  come 
And  glad  her  father's  ee  ; 


The  wine  that  is  poured  by  her  fair,  fair  hand 
Is  sweetest  aye  to  me.' 

Then  out  and  spake  the  fat  earth-worm. 

That  wons  beneath  the  stane  ; 
'  Yestreen  I  fed  on  a  rosie  cheek 

And  on  a  white  hause-bane. 

'  Yestreen  I  fed  on  a  rosy  cheek 

And  on  a  snaw-white  bree ; 
But  never  again  Lady  Margaret 

Shall  fill  the  wine  for  thee." 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


VOL.  I. 
1.  Riddles  Wisely  Expounded. 

P.  1  a,  VI,  496  a.  Guess  or  die.  Kristensen,  Jyske 
Folkeminder,  X,  2,  *  Svend  Bondes  Spargsmaal,'  B. 

3-5.  From  Miss  M.  H.  Mason's  Nursery  Rhymes 
and  Country  Songs,  p.  31 ;  sung  in  Northumberland. 

E 

1  There  was  a  lady  in  the  West, 

Lay  the  bank  with  the  bonny  broom 
She  had  three  daughters  of  the  best. 
Fa  lang  the  dillo 
Fa  lang  the  dillo  dillo  dee 

2  There  came  a  stranger  to  the  gate, 
And  he  three  days  and  nights  did  wait. 

3  The  eldest  daughter  did  ope  the  door, 
The  second  set  him  on  the  floor. 

4  The  third  daughter  she  brought  a  chair, 
And  placed  it  that  he  might  sit  there. 

{To  first  daughter.) 

6  *  Now  answer  me  these  questions  three, 
Or  you  shall  surely  go  with  me. 

{To  second  daughter.) 

6  *  Now  answer  me  these  questions  six. 
Or  you  shall  surely  be  Old  Nick's. 

{To  all  three.) 

7  '  Now  answer  me  these  questions  nine, 
Or  you  shall  surely  all  be  mine. 

8  '  What  is  greener  than  the  grass  ? 
What  is  smoother  than  crystal  glass  ? 

9  *  What  is  louder  than  a  horn  ? 
What  is  sharper  than  a  thorn  ? 

10  *  What  is  brighter  than  the  light  ? 
What  is  darker  than  the  night  ? 


11  *  What  is  keener  than  an  axe  ? 
What  is  softer  than  melting  wax  ? 

12  '  What  is  rounder  than  a  ring  ?  * 

'  To  you  we  thus  our  answers  bring. 

13  *  Envy  is  greener  than  the  grass, 
Flattery  smoother  than  crystal  glass. 

14  *  Rumour  is  louder  than  a  horn, 
Himger  is  sharper  than  a  thorn. 

15  '  Truth  is  brighter  than  the  light. 
Falsehood  is  darker  than  the  night. 

16  *  Revenge  is  keener  than  an  axe, 
Love  is  softer  than  melting  wax. 

17  '  The  world  is  rounder  than  a  ring, 
To  you  we  thus  our  answers  bring. 

18  *  Thus  you  have  our  answers  nine. 
And  we  never  shall  be  thine.' 

Findlay's  MSS,  I,  151,  from  J.  Milne. 

'  What 's  greener  than  the  grass? 
What 's  higher  than  the  clouds? 
What  is  worse  than  women's  tongues? 
What 's  deeper  than  the  floods?  ' 

*  HoUin  *s  greener  than  the  grass, 
Heaven  's  higher  than  the  clouds, 
The  devil's  worse  than  women's  tongues, 
Hell 's  deeper  than  the  floods.' 


2.  The  Elfin  Knight. 

P.  7  b.  III,  496  a,  IV,  439  a.  « Store  Fordringer,' 
Kristensen,  Jyske  Folkeminder,  XI,  175,  No  66  (three 
copies),  294,  No  4.  'Umulige  Fordringer,'  Kristensen, 
Efterslaet  til  Skattegraveren,  p.  20,  No  16. 

14  a,  II,  495.  After  the  note  to  14  a  at  II,  495,  add  : 
C.  R.  Lanman. 

17.  Communicated  by  Mr  Walker,  of  Aberdeen,  as 
sung,  1893,  by  John  Walker,  Portlethen  ;  learned  by 
him  from  his  father,  above  fifty  years  before. 


206 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


1  There  was  a  knight  on  the  head  o  yon  hill 
Blowing  his  horn  lood  and  shrill. 

Blow,  blow,  blow  the  wind,  blow 

2  '  Ye  'se  get  to  me  a  camrick  sark 
Without  ae  steek  o  needlewark. 

3  '  An  ye  will  wash  it  in  a  wall 

Where  rain  never  fell  nor  water  sprang. 

4  *  An  ye  sail  dry  it  on  a  thorn 

That  never  wis  sprung  sin  Adam  was  born.' 

5  '  Ye  'se  gie  me  an  acre  o  red  Ian 
Atween  the  see  an  the  watery  san. 

6  *  An  ye  will  plough  it  wi  yer  horn, 
An  sa  it  a'  wi  ae  pick  o  corn. 


An  cut  it  doon  wi  a  sheepshank  bone. 

8  '  An  ye  will  big  it  in  the  sea, 

An  bring  the  foonshief  dry  to  me. 

9  *  An  when  ye  have  done  and  finished  yer  wark, 
Come  in,  Jock  Sheep,  an  ye  '11  get  yer  sark.' 

As  delivered,  6-8  precede  2-4. 

17,  484  b.  M.  Findlay's  MSS,  I,  21,  from  the 
recitation  of  Jeany  Meldrum,  Framedrum,  Forfarshire. 

17,  II,  495  b.  In  The  Monthly  Chronicle  of  North 
Country  Lore  and  Legend,  III,  7,  '  Whittingham  Fair ' 
is  given  by  Mr  Stokoe  with  a  few  variations. 

1.  Second  line  of  refrain, 

For  once  she  was  a  true  lover  of  mine. 

2,  4.  Second  line  of  refrain. 

Then  she  shall  be  a  true  lover. 
8.  Second  line  of  refrain, 

And  she  shall  be  a  true  lover. 

5.  Second  line  of  refrain, 

Before  he  shall  be  a  true  lover. 

6.  Second  line  of  refrain. 

Then  he  shall  be  a  true  lover. 

7.  8,  9.  Second  line  of  refrain, 

And  he  shall  be  a  true  lover. 
6\  to  buy.     8^.  to  sheer  't. 
After  8  :  Tell  him  to  thrash  it  on  yonder  wall, 
And  never  let  one  corn  of  it  fall. 

Then  he  shall  be  a  true  lover  of  mine. 

17,  484  f.,  n,  495  f.,  IV,  439  f. 

*  Scarborough  Fair,*  taken  down  by  H.  M.  Bower, 
December,  1891,  from  William  Moat,  a  Whitby  fisher- 
man. English  County  Songs,  by  Lucy  E.  Broadwood 
and  J.  A.  Fuller  Maitland,  1893,  p.  12. 

1  'Is  any  of  you  going  to  Scarborough  Fair? 
Remember  me  to  a  lad  as  lives  there  ; 
Remember  me  to  a  lad  as  lives  there  ; 

For  once  he  was  a  true  lover  of  mine. 
(^Second  line  always  twice.") 


2  *  Tell  him  to  bring  me  an  acre  of  land 
Betwixt  the  wild  ocean  and  yonder  sea  sand  ; 

And  then  he  shall  be  a  true  lover  of  mine. 

3  '  Tell  him  to  plough  it  with  one  ram's  horn, 
And  sow  it  all  over  with  one  pepper  corn  ; 

And  then  he  shall  be  a  true  lover  of  mine. 

4  '  Tell  him  to  reap  it  with  sickle  of  leather. 
And  bind  it  together  with  one  peacock-feather  ; 

And  then  he  shall  be  a  true  lover  of  mine. 

5  *  And  now  I  have  answered  your  questions  three, 
I  hope  you  'U  answer  as  many  for  me  ; 

And  then  thou  shalt  be  a  true  lover  of  mine.' 

6  *Is  any  of  you  going  to  Scarborough  Fair? 
Remember  me  to  a  lass  as  lives  there  ; 

For  once  she  was  a  true  lover  of  mine. 

7  *  Tell  her  to  make  me  a  cambric  shirt. 
Without  any  needles  or  thread,  or  owt  through't ; 

And  then  she  shall  be  a  true  lover  of  mine. 

8  *  Tell  her  to  wash  it  by  yonder  wall, 

Where  water  neer  sprung,  nor  a  drop  o  rain  fall ; 
And  then  she  shall  be  a  true  lover  of  mine. 

9  *  Tell  her  to  dry  it  on  yonder  thorn, 

Where  blossom  neer  grew  sin  Adam  was  born  ; 
And  then  she  shall  be  a  true  lover  of  mine. 

10  *  And  now  I  have  answered  your  questions  three. 
And  I  hope  you  '11  answer  as  many  for  me  ; 
And  then  thou  shalt  be  a  true  lover  of  mine.' 

Rev.  S.  Baring-Gould  gives  me  these  variations,  from 
the  West  of  England  : 

*  O  tell  her  to  bleach  it  on  yonder  fresh  grass, 
Where  never  a  foot  or  a  hoof  did  pass.* 

'  O  tell  him  to  thresh  it  in  yonder  barn, 
That  hangs  to  the  sky  by  a  thread  of  yarn.' 

(Dartmoor.) 

*  Pray  take  it  up  in  a  bottomless  sack, 

And  every  leaf  grows  merry  in  time 
And  bear  it  to  the  mill  on  a  butterfly's  back. 
O  thus  you  shall  be  a  true  lover  of  mine ' 

(Cornwall.) 


4.  Lady  Isabel  and  the  Elf-Knight. 

P.  26  b.  Danish.  'Kvindemorderen,'  two  frag- 
ments ;  Kristensen,  Folkeminder,  XI,  62,  No  33. 

29-37,  486  a,  IV,  441  a.  FF.  '  Schon  Hannchen,' 
Frischbier  und    Sembrzycki,  Hundert  Ostpreussische 


ADDITIONS  AND   CORRECTIONS 


207 


Volkslieder,  1893,  p.  35,  No  22,  from  Angerburg,  51 
w.  The  ballad  is  of  the  third  class.  Hannchen  walks 
in  the  wood,  and  Ulrich  advances  to  meet  her.  The 
birds  are  all  singing,  and  the  maid  asks  why.  '  Every 
bird  has  its  song,'  says  Ulrich  ;  '  go  you  your  gait.'  He 
takes  her  under  a  briar  where  there  is  a  pretty  damsel 
(who  is  quite  superfluous).  Hannchen  lays  her  head  in 
the  damsel's  lap  and  begins  to  weep.  The  damsel  asks 
whether  her  weeping  is  for  her  father's  gear,  or  because 
Ulrich  is  not  good  enough  for  her.  It  is  not  for  her 
father's  gear,  and  Ulrich  is  good  enough.  '  Is  it,  then,' 
says  the  damsel  or  Ulrich,  *  for  the  stakes  on  which  the 
eleven  maidens  are  hanging?  Rely  upon  it,  you  shall 
be  the  twelfth.'  She  begs  for  three  cries,  which  are 
addressed  to  God,  her  parents,  and  her  brothers.  The 
brothers  hear,  hasten  to  the  wood,  and  encounter  Ul- 
rich, who  pretends  to  know  nothing  of  their  sister.  His 
shoes  are  red  with  blood.  'Why  not?'  says  Ulrich, 
*  I  have  shot  a  dove.'  They  know  who  the  dove  is. 
Hannchen  is  borne  to  the  churchyard,  Ulrich  is  strung 
up  on  the  gallows.     No  23  of  the  same  collection  is  X. 

'  Die  schone  Anna,'  Bockel,  Deutsche  Volkslieder 
aus  Oberhessen,  p.  86,  No  103,  '  Als  die  wunder- 
schone  Anna,'  Lewalter,  Deutsche  V.  1.  in  Nieder- 
hessen  gesammelt,  1'  Heft,  No  24,  p.  51,  and  also  No 
25,  are  fragmentary  pieces,  varieties  of  DD,  I,  486  a. 

37  b,  3d  paragraph.  A  variety  of  A  is  printed 
in  Altpreussische  Monatschrift,  N.  F.,  XXVIII,  632, 
1892,  without  indication  of  local  derivation, '  Der  Ritter 
und  die  Konigstochter.'  The  knight  takes  measures 
(not  very  summary  ones)  to  drown  himself. 

43  b  (or  44  a),  488  a.  III,  497  a,  IV,  441  b.  Italian. 
Add:  Canti  popolari  Emiliani  by  Maria  Carmi,  Archivio, 
XII,  178,  No  2. 

44  b,  1st  paragraph.  Add:  *  El  Mariner '  and  *  Gio- 
vanina,'  Villanis,  Canzoni  p.  Zaratine,  in  Archivio  XI, 
33,  34,  Nos  2,  3. 

58.  E.  A  copy  of  '  The  Outlandish  Knight,'  with 
unimportant  verbal  variations,  is  given  in  English 
County  Songs,  by  Lucy  E.  Broadwood  and  J.  A.  Fuller 
Maitland,  p.  164. 

m,  497  b.  A  pair  on  horseback  go  a  long  way  with- 
out speaking.  A  trait  in  Polish,  French,  and  Italian 
versions  of  No  4.  Add:  Munthe,  Folkpoesi  fr&n  Astu- 
rien,  p.  118  f.,  VII,  A,  76  f.,  B,  70  f.  ('  Don  Bueso,' 
Duran,  I,  Ixv,  no  hablara  la  nina.)  Dead  lover  and 
maid  in  Bartos,  Nove  ndrodne  pisne  moravsk^,  p.  150. 
Lagus,  Nylandske  F.  visor,  '  Kung  Valdemo '  (=  Ri- 
bold),  No  1,  a,  28,  b,  18,  *  Kampen  Grimborg,'  No  3, 
a,  21,  b,  19. 

6.  Gil  Brenton. 

P.  62.  In  Traditionary  Stories  of  Old  Families,  by 
Andrew  Picken,  1833,  I,  289,  '  The  Three  Maids  of 
Loudon,'  occur  the  following  stanzas  : 

Seven  pretty  sisters  dwelt  in  a  bower. 
With  a  hey-down,  and  a  ho-down 


And  they  twined  the  silk,  and  they  workd  the  flower. 
Sing  a  hey-down  and  a  ho-down 

And  they  began  for  seven  years'  wark, 

With  a  hey-down  and  a  ho-down 
All  for  to  make  their  dear  loves  a  sark. 

With  a  hey  down  and  a  ho-down 

O  three  long  years  were  passd  and  gone. 
And  they  had  not  finishd  a  sleeve  but  one. 

*  O  we  '11  to  the  woods,  and  we  '11  pull  a  rose,' 
And  up  they  sprang  all  at  this  propose. 

(W.  Macmath.) 

6.  Willie's  Lady. 

P.  82  a.    '  Barselkvinden,'  three  fragments,  Kristen- 
sen,  Folkeminder,  XI,  42,  No  23. 

85  b,  3d  paragraph.     Say,  of  the  parish  of  Logierait. 


7.  Earl  Brand. 

P.  88,  III,  498  b,  IV,  443  a.  «  Hr.  Ribolt.'  Danish. 
Add  :  Skattegraveren,  VI,  17,  No  257,  'Nsevnet  til 
d0de,'  Kristensen,  Efterslaet  til  Skattegraveren,  p.  81, 
No  76  ;  Folkeminder,  XI,  36,  No  22,  A-D. 

91  f.  489  b,  in,  498  b,  IV,  443  a.  Swedish.  ['  Rid- 
borg,']  Thomasson,  Visor  fr&n  Bleking,  Nyare  Bidrag, 
etc.,  VII,  No  6,  p.  12,  No  7. 

96  b.  Danish.  'Hertug  Frydenborg,'  Danmarks 
g.  Folkeviser,  No  305,  V,  ii,  216.  A  a,  b,  h,  n,  o  ; 
B  b,  c;  E,  k,  1;  F  b,  c,  e,  f ;  with  diversities,  the 
plant  nearly  always  lilies.  (A  few  of  these,  from  Kris- 
tensen, have  been  already  cited.) 


9.  The  Pair  Flower  of  Northumberland. 

P.  116.  D.  In  a  copy  sent  by  Motherwell  to  C.  K. 
Sharpe  with  a  letter,  October  8,  1825,  this  version  is 
said  to  have  been  obtained  from  Mrs  Nicol,  of  Paisley. 

117,  493  a. 

G 

'  The  Heiress  of  Northumberland,'  from  C.  K.  Sharpe's 
first  collection,  p.  7. 

Sir  W.  Scott,  commenting  on  this  copy  (to  which  he  by 
mistake  gives  the  title  of  The  Stirrup  of  Northumberland), 
says  :  "  An  edition  considerably  varied  both  from  Ritson's 
and  the  present  I  have  heard  sung  by  the  Miss  Tytlers  of 
Woodhouselee.  The  tune  is  a  very  pretty  lilt."  Sharpe's 
Ballad  Book,  ed.  1880,  p.  142. 

At  the  end  of  the  ballad  we  are  told :  Tradition's  story  is 
that  the  hero  of  this  song  was  one  of  the  Earls  of  Douglass, 
who  was  taken  captive  and  put  in  prison  by  Percy,  Earl  of 
Northumberland. 


208 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


1  '  Why,  fair  maid,  have  pity  on  me,' 

Waly  's  my  love  wi  the  life  that  she  wan 
'  For  I  am  bound  in  prison  strong, 

And  under  the  heir  o  Northumberland.' 

2  *  How  can  I  have  pity  on  thee,' 

Waly 's  my  love,  etc. 
'  When  thou  hast  a  wife  and  children  three, 
All  dwelling  at  home  in  fair  Scotland  ? ' 

3  Now  he  has  sworn  a  solemn  oath, 

And  it  was  by  eternity. 
That  wife  and  children  he  had  none. 
All  dwelling  at  home  in  fair  Scotland. 

4  Now  she  's  gone  to  her  father's  bedstock, 

Waly 's  my  love,  etc. 
And  has  stolen  the  key  of  the  dungeon-lock, 
And  she  the  great  heir  o  Northumberland. 

6  And  she  's  gone  to  her  father's  chest, 
She  has  stolen  away  a  suit  of  the  best, 
Altho  she  was  heir  o  Northumberland. 

6  Now  she  's  gone  to  her  father's  coffer. 

And  has  taen  out  gold  nane  kens  how  meickle, 
Altho  she,  etc. 

7  She  's  gane  to  her  father's  stable, 

And  taen  out  a  steed  baith  lusty  and  able, 
For  a'  she  was  heir,  etc. 

8  The  rade  till  they  came  to  Crafurdmoor, 

He  bade  her  light  down  for  an  English  whore, 
Altho  she,  etc. 

9  The  rade  till  the  came  to  the  water  o  Clyde, 
He  bade  her  light  down,  nae  farer  she  should 

ride, 
*  For  now  I  am  at  hame  in  fair  Scotland.' 

10  *  Yonder  view  my  castle,'  said  he  ; 

'  There  I  hae  a  wife  and  children  three. 
All  dwelling  at  home,'  etc. 

11  *  O  take  me  by  the  middle  sae  sma 
And  thro  me  oer  your  castle-wa. 

For  I  darena  gang  hame  to  Northumber- 
land.' 

12  When  she  came  to  her  father's  yett, 
She  durst  hardly  rapp  thereat, 

Altho  she  was,  etc. 


13  Out  then  spoke  her  stepmother  sour. 

She  bad  her  pack  off  for  an  impudent  whore, 
*  For  thou  shalt  not  be  heir  o  Northumber- 
land.' 

14  Out  then  spock  her  bastard  brother  ; 

'  She  '11  hae  nae  mair  grace  than  God  has  gien 
her, 
And  she  shall  be  heir  o  Northumberland.' 

15  Out  and  spoke  her  father  sae  mild, 

*  She  's  no  the  first  maid  a  false  Scot  has  be- 
guild. 
And  she  shall  be,'  etc. 

10.  The  Twa  Sisters. 

P.  125,  493  b,  II,  498  b,  III,  499  a,  IV,  447  b.  *  Les 
roseaux  qui  chantent,  Revue  des  Traditions  Populaires, 

VII,  223  (blue  flower)  ;  'L'os  qui  chante,'  discussion  of 
the   tale  by  M.    Charles  Plolx,  Rev.  des  Trad.  Pop., 

VIII,  129  ff. 

11.  The  Cruel  Brother. . 

P.  142  b,  496  a,  III,  499  a,  IV,  449  a.  Add  a  ballad 
of  Rissiald,  Canti  popolari  Emiliani,  Maria  Carmi, 
Archivio,  XII,  185,  No  7. 

144  a,  1.  18.  '  Le  Testament  de  Marion.'  Another 
version,  '  La  belo  Marioun,'  Laroche,  Folklore  du 
Lauraguais,  p.  247. 

144  b,  2d  paragraph.  Add  at  the  end  :  the  (she)  ass, 
Testament  de  I'Ane,  Buchon,  Noels  et  Chants  pop.  de 
la  Franche-Comte,  p.  89,  No  28  ;  and  elsewhere. 

147.  E.  For  this  stanza  we  find,  whatever  may  be 
the  explanation,  the  following  in  Findlay  MSS,  I,  146. 
"From  Miss  Butchart,  Arbroath." 

There  were  three  sisters  livd  in  a  bouer, 

With  a  hech  hey  an  a  lillie  gay 
There  cam  a  knicht  to  be  their  wooer. 
An  the  primrose  springs  sae  sweetly 
Sing  Annet,  an  Marrot,  an  fair  Maisrie, 
An  the  dew  hangs  in  the  wood,  gay  ladie. 


12.  Lord  Randal. 

P.  152  b,  498  b,  III,  499  b.  Italian.  Three  imper- 
fect versions  (Sardinian)  in  Ferraro,  C.  p.  in  dialetto 
logudorese,  1891,  pp.  3-5. 

156  a,  last  paragraph,  northern  ballad.  Add  :  '  Den 
onde  svigermoder,'  Kristensen,  Jyske  Folkeviser,  I, 
332,  No  122;  Skattegraveren,  V,  84,  No  635. 

157,  499,  IV,  449. 

'  Lairde  Rowlande,  or  Ronalde,*  The  Sporting  Mag- 
azine, XXV,  209,  January,   1805;  communicated  by 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


209 


Philodice,  as  recited  by  a  "peasant's  girl  "  at  Rand- 
callas,  Perthshire.  (Reprinted  by  Mr  Edward  Pea- 
cock in  The  Athenaeum,  August  27,  1892,  p.  288.) 

1  *  Ah,  where  have  you  been,  Lairde  Rowlande,  my 

son? 
Ah,  where  have  you  been,  Lairde  Rowlande,  my 
son  ?  ' 

*  I  've  been  in  the  wild  woods  ;  mither,  mak  my  bed 

soon, 
For  I'm  weary  wi  hunting   and  faine  would  lie 
down.' 

2  •  Oh,   you  *ve  been   at  your  true-love's,   Lairde 

Rowlande,  my  son,'  etc. 

*  I  've  been  at  my  true-love's ;  mither,'  etc. 

3  'What  got  you  to  dinner?  '  etc. 

*  I  got  eels  boild  in  brue  ;  mither,'  etc. 

4  •  What 's  become  of  your  warden?  '  etc. 

*  He  died  in  the  muirlands  ;  mither,'  etc. 

5  *  What 's  become  of  your  stag-hounds  ?  '  etc. 
'  They  swelled  and  they  died  ;  mither,'  etc. 

*  Jacky,  my  son,'  written  out  by  Miss  F.  J.  Adams, 
a  Devonshire  lady,  and  derived  by  her  from  her 
Devonshire  nurse,  sixty  or  seventy  years  ago.  (Rev. 
S.  Baring-Gould.) 

1  *  Where  hast  thou  been  to-day,  Jacky,  my  son? 
Where  hast  thou  been  to-day,  my  honey  man  ? ' 

*  Oh,  I  've  been  a  courting,  mother,  make  my  bed 

soon. 
For  I  am  sick  to  the  heart,  fain  would  lie  down.' 

2  '  Where  shall  I  make  it  to?  '  etc. 

*  Oh,  in  the  churchyard,  mother,'  etc. 

3  *  What  wilt  thou  leave  thy  mother?  '  etc. 

*  Oh,  I  '11  leave  her  my  money,  mother,'  etc. 

4  *  What  wilt  thou  leave  thy  father? '  etc. 

*  Oh,  I  '11  leave  him  my  'state,  mother,'  etc. 

5  *  What  wilt  thou  leave  thy  sweetheart? '  etc. 

*  A  rope  for  to  hang  her,  mother,'  etc. 

*  The  Croodin  Doo.'    Findlay  MSS,  I,  192. 

1  *  Whare  did  ye  get  your  dinner  the  day, 

My  wee,  wee  croodin  doo?  * 
(Tijoice.) 

2  *  I  got  it  in  my  step-mither's  ha, 

Oh,  granny,  mak  my  bed  noo.' 
(Twice.) 


27 


3  •  What  did  ye  get  to  your  dinner  the  day. 

My  wee,  wee  croodin  doo?  ' 
(^Twice.) 

4  '  I  got  a  wee  fishie  wi  four  wee  f eeties. 

Oh,  granny,  mak  my  bed  noo.' 
(Twice.) 

5  *  Did  ony  body  eat  it  but  yoursel, 

My  wee,  wee' croodin  doo?  ' 
(Twice.) 

6  '  I  gied  the  banes  to  my  wee,  wee  dogie. 

Oh,  granny,  mak  my  bed  noo  ; 
He  streekit  out  his  head  an  died  at  my  feet, 
O,  granny,  een  as  I  do  noo.' 

Among  C.  K.  Sharpe's  papers,  and  in  his  handwrit- 
ing, is  a  piece  in  dialogue  between  Mother  and  Son 
headed.  Death  of  Lord  Rounal,  a  Gaelic  ballad  founded 
on  a  tradition  of  his  receiving  poison  by  treachery  at 
the  castle  of  his  mistress'  father,  and  dying  on  his  re- 
turn home.  This  is  the  familiar  Scottish  ballad  made 
over  in  English  and  mildly  sentimental  phraseology. 
All  the  Celtic  in  it  is  "  dark  Dimgael,  the  chief  of 
meikle  guile,"  the  father. 


13.  Edward. 

P.  167  b,  501  b,  ni  499  b.  Swedish.  '  Sven  i 
RosengSrd  '  in  Thomasson,  Visor  fran  Bleking,  Nyare 
Bidrag,  etc.,  VII,  No  6,  p.  16,  No  9. 

168  a,  second  paragraph,  'when  stones  float,'  etc. 
Compare  Sir  John  Mandeville,  as  to  the  Dead  Sea,  ch. 
9  (of  the  Cotton  MS.):  "And  zif  a  man  caste  iren 
therein,  it  wole  flete  aboven,  and  zif  men  caste  a  fedre 
therein,  it  wol  synke  to  the  botme." 


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

P.  170,  n,  499  a.  III,  500.  Add  to  the  French  bal- 
lad, '  C'est  trois  gar9ons  depays^s,'  Pineau,  Le  Folk- 
Lore  du  Poitou,  p.  281 ;  '  Les  Coumpagnons,'  Laroche, 
Folklore  du  Lauraguais,  p.  245. 

171a.  Danish.  Add:  Hr.  Tures  Detre,  Kristen- 
sen,  Folkeminder,  XI,  145,  No  56. 

15.  Leesome  Brand. 

P.  1 78  b.  Danish.  Add  :  '  Barnefedsel  i  Lunden,' 
Kristensen,  Folkeminder,  XI,  102,  No  45,  A-I,  9 
copies. 

181  b,  II,  499  a.  French,  B.  Add  :  *  La-bas,  sus 
ces  grands  champs,'  Pineau,  Le  Folk-Lore  du  Poitou, 
p.  316. 


210 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


16.  Sheath  and  Knife. 

*  P.  185,  III,  500.  In  C.  K.  Sharpe's  papers  there  is 
the  following  version,  in  Motherwell's  handwriting, 
sent  by  him  to  Sharps  with  a  letter  dated  Paisley,  8th 
October,  1825. 

P 

*  The  Broom  blooms  bonnie,'  from  the  recitation  of  Agnes 
Lyie,  Kilbarchan. 

1  '  There  is  a  feast  in  your  father's  house, 

The  broom  blooms  bonnie,  and  so  is  it  fair 
It  becomes  you  and  me  to  be  very  douce.' 


14  *  Hold  thy  tongue  and  mak  nae  din, 

I  '11  buy  thee  a  sheath  and  a  knife  therein.' 

15  '  A'  the  ships  ere  sailed  the  sea 

Neer  '11  bring  such  a  sheathe  and  knife  to  me. 

16  '  A'  the  smiths  that  lives  on  land 

Will  neer  bring  such  a  sheath  and  knife  to  my 
hand.' 

in,  500.  E.  Colonel  W.  F.  Prideaux  has  printed 
this  piece,  from  a  manuscript  of  Motherwell's  in  his 
possession,  in  Notes  and  Queries,  Eighth  Series,  I,  372, 


And  we  '11  never  gang  up  to  the  broom  nae      with  the  trifling  variations  (or  confirmations  of  doubt- 


2  '  "Will  you  go  to  yon  hill  so  hie, 

Take  your  bow  and  your  arrow  wi  thee.* 

3  He  's  tane  his  lady  on  his  back. 
And  his  auld  son  in  his  coat-lap. 

4  '  When  ye  hear  me  give  a  cry, 
Ye  'U  shoot  your  bow  and  let  me  ly. 

5  '  When  ye  see  me  lying  still, 
Throw  awa  your  bow  and  come  running  me 

tilL' 

6  When  he  heard  her  gie  a  cry, 
He  shot  his  bow  and  he  let  her  lye. 

7  When  he  saw  she  was  lying  stiU, 


ful  readings)  here  annexed. 

11  Ane.     3».  we  '11  hunt 

6^.  let  me  doun  by  the  rute  o  the. 

72.  And  wanting  :  as  ony. 

92.  faithless.     lO^.  The  ae. 


17.  Hind  Horn. 

P.  196  a  (7).  Historia:  Hertzog  Heinrich  der  low, 
XVI,  221,  of  the  edition  of  the  Litt.  Vereiain  Stutt- 
gart, ed.  Goetze,  228  vv. 

198  a.  Tales.  Add:  Stier,  Ungarische  Volks- 
marchen,  p.  53. 

198  b,  502  b,  II,  499  b,  IV,  450  b.  '  Le  retour  du 
mari,'  Pineau,  Le  Folk-Lore  du  Poitou,  p.  385;  La 
Tradition,  VI,  207  f. 

199  b.  Romaic.  Add  :  Manousos,  II,  73 ;  Zuypa^Eioc 
'Ayuv,  p.  76,  No  26. 

205.    G.   Kinloch  has  made  numerous  small  changes. 
He  threw  awa  his  bow  and  came  running  her      The  ballad  will  now  be  given  as  first  written  down. 


till. 

8  It  was  nae  wonder  his  heart  was  sad, 
When  he  shot  his  auld  son  at  her  head. 

9  He  howkit  a  grave  lang,  large  and  wide, 
He  buried  his  auld  son  down  by  her  side. 

10  It  was  nae  wonder  his  heart  was  sair. 
When  he  shooled  the  mools  on  her  yellow  hair. 

11  '  Oh,'  said  his  father,  '  son,  but  thou  'rt  sad. 
At  our  braw  meeting  you  micht  be  glad.' 

12  '  Oh,'  said  he,  *  father,  I  've  lost  my  knife, 
I  loved  as  dear  almost  as  my  own  life. 

13  '  But  I  have  lost  a  far  better  thing, 

I  lost  the  sheathe  that  the  knife  was  in.' 


Kinloch  MSS,  VII,  117.     It  appears  to  have  been  de- 
rived by  Miss  Kinnear  from  Christy  Smith. 

1  *  Hynde  Horn 's  bound,  love,  and  Hynde  Horn 's 

free; 
Whare  was  ye  born?  or  frae  what  cuntrie?  ' 

2  *  In  gude  green wud  whare  I  was  born. 
And  all  my  friends  left  me  forlorn. 

3  *  I  gave  my  love  a  gay  gowd  wand. 
That  was  to  rule  oure  all  Scotland. 

4  *  My  love  gave  me  a  silver  ring, 
That  was  to  rule  abune  aw  thing. 

5  *  Whan  that  ring  keeps  new  in  hue, 
Yfe  may  ken  that  your  love  loves  you. 

6  '  Whan  that  ring  turns  pale  and  wan. 

Ye  may  ken  that  your  love  loves  anither  man.' 


ADDITIONS  AND  COKRECTIONS 


211 


7  He  hoisted  up  his  sails,  and  away  sailed  he 
Till  he  cam  to  a  foreign  cuntree. 

8  Whan  he  lookit  to  his  ring,  it  was  turnd  pale  and 

wan  ; 
Says,  I  wish  I  war  at  hame  again. 

9  He  hoisted  up  his  sails,  and  hame  sailed  he 
Until  he  cam  till  his  ain  cuntree. 

10  The  first  ane  that  he  met  with, 

It  was  with  a  puir  auld  beggar-man. 

11  '  What  news?  what  news,  my  puir  auld  man? 
What  news  hae  ye  got  to  tell  to  me? * 

12  *Na  news,  na  news,'  the  puirman  did  say, 
'  But  this  is  our  queen's  wedding-day.' 

13  '  Ye  '11  lend  me  your  begging-weed, 
And  I  '11  lend  you  my  riding-steed.' 

14  *  My  begging- weed  is  na  for  thee. 
Your  riding-steed  is  na  for  me.' 

15  He  has  changed  wi  the  puir  auld  beggar-man. 

16  *  What  is  the  way  that  ye  use  to  gae? 
And  what  are  the  words  that  ye  beg  wi?  * 

17  *  Whan  ye  come  to  yon  high  hill, 
Ye'U  draw  your  bent  bow  nigh  until. 

18  *  Whan  ye  come  to  yon  town-end, 
Ye  '11  lat  your  bent  bow  low  fall  doun. 

19  *  Ye'll  seek  meat  for  St  Peter,  ask  for  St  Paul, 
And  seek  for  the  sake  of  your  Hynde  Horn  all. 

20  '  But  tak  ye  frae  nane  o  them  aw 

Till  ye  get  frae  the  bonnie  bride  hersel  O.' 

21  Whan  he  cam  to  yon  high  hill, 
He  drew  his  bent  bow  nigh  until. 

22  And  when  he  cam  to  yon  toun-end, 
He  loot  his  bent  bow  low  fall  doun. 

23  He  sought  for  St  Peter,  he  askd  for  St  Paul, 
And  he  sought  for  the  sake  of  his  Hynde  Horn  all. 

24  But  he  took  na  frae  ane  o  them  aw 

Till  he  got  frae  the  bonnie  bride  hersel  O. 

25  The  bride  cam  tripping  doun  the  stair, 
Wi  the  scales  o  red  gowd  on  her  hair. 

26  Wi  a  glass  o  red  wine  in  her  hand, 
To  gie  to  the  puir  beggar-man. 


27  Out  he  drank  his  glass  o  wine, 
Into  it  he  dropt  the  ring. 

28  *  Got  ye 't  by  sea,  or  got  ye 't  by  land, 
Or  got  ye 't  afE  a  drownd  man's  hand?' 

29  *  I  got  na 't  by  sea,  I  got  na 't  by  land, 
Nor  gat  I  it  aff  a  drownd  man's  hand ; 

30  '  But  I  got  it  at  my  wooing. 
And  I  '11  gie  it  to  your  wedding. 

31  '  I  '11  tak  the  scales  o  gowd  frae  my  head, 
I  '11  follow  you,  and  beg  my  bread. 

32  *  I  '11  tak  the  scales  o  gowd  frae  my  hair, 
I  '11  follow  you  for  evermair.' 

33  She  has  tane  the  scales  o  gowd  frae  her  head. 
She 's  followed  him,  to  beg  her  bread. 

34  She  has  tane  the  scales  o  gowd  frae  her  hair, 
And  she  has  followd  him  evermair. 

35  Atween  the  kitchen  and  the  ha, 
There  he  loot  his  cloutie  cloak  fa. 

36  The  red  gowd  shined  cure  them  aw. 

And  the  bride  frae  the  bridegroom  was  stown  awa. 

19.  King  Orfeo. 

P.  215.  Professor  Sophus  Bugge  maintains  that  the 
Scandinavian  ballad  *  Harpens  Kraft '  shows  acquaint- 
ance with  the  English  romance,  and  indeed,  like  the 
English  ballad,  is  derived  from  it.  (Arkiv  for  nordisk 
Filologi,  Vn,  97  ff.,  1891.) 

20.  The  Cruel  Mother. 

P.  218.  Findlay's  MSS,  I,  58  f.,  derived  from  his 
mother. 

1  I  looked  ower  the  castle-wa. 
Hey  rose,  ma  lindie,  O 

Saw  twa  bonnie  babies  playin  at  the  ba. 
Doon  in  the  green  wood-sidie,  O 

2  *  O  bonnie  babies,  an  ye  were  mine, 

I  wad  feid  ye  wi  flour-breid  an  wine.' 

3  *  O  cruel  mother,  when  we  were  thine, 
You  did  not  prove  to  us  sae  kin.' 

4  '  O  bonnie  babies,  an  ye  were  mine, 
I  wad  cleid  ye  wi  scarlet  sae  fine.' 

5  '  O  cruel  mother,  when  we  were  thine, 
You  did  not  prove  to  us  sae  fine. 


212 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


6  *  For  wi  a  penknife  ye  took  our  life 
And  threw  us  ower  the  castle-wa.' 

7  *  0  bonnie  babies,  what  wad  ye  hae  dune  to  me 
For  my  bein  sae  cruel  to  thee?' 

8  *  Seven  yeare  a  fish  in  the  flood, 
Seven  yeare  a  bird  in  the  wood. 

9  '  Seven  yeare  a  tinglin  bell, 
Seventeen  yeare  in  the  deepest  hell.' 

Under  the  green  wood-sidie,  O 

219  b,  504  a,  11,  500  a.  III,  502  b,  IV,  451  a.  Add 
S,  Deutsche  Volksballaden  aus  Siidungarn,  Griinn  und 
Bardti,  in  Ethnologische  Mitteilungen  aus  Ungarn,  II, 
201,  No  4,  1892. 

21.  The  Maid  and  the  Palmer. 

P.  228.  M.  G.  Doncieux  has  attempted  to  arrange 
"Le  cycle  de  Sainte  Marie-Madelaine,"  in  Revue  des 
Traditions  Populaires,  VI,  257. 

22.  St  Stephen  and  Herod. 

P.  233  £f.  *  Stjaernevisen,'  Kristensen,  XI,  207,  No 
76  A,  B,  has  nothing  about  Stephen,  but  is  confined  to 
the  scripture-history,  piety,  and  New  Year's  wishes. 

P.  236  a,  IV,  451  b.  French.  An  imperfect  French 
ballad  in  M^lusine,  VI,  24,  from  a  wood-cut  "at  least 
three  centuries  old." 

Add  a  Piedmontese  popular  tale  communicated  by 
Count  Nigra  to  the  editor  of  Melusine,  VI,  25  f. 

M.  Gaidoz,  at  the  same  place,  26  f.,  cites  two  ver- 
sions of  the  resuscitation  of  the  cock,  from  example- 
books.  The  first,  from  Erythrseus  (i.  e.  Rossi),  ch.  CLV, 
p.  187,  is  essentially  the  same  as  the  legend  of  St  Gunther 
given  from  Acta  Sanctorum  (p.  239  a).  The  other,  from 
the  Giardino  d'  Essempi  of  Razzi,  is  the  story  told  by 
Vincentius  (p.  237,  note  f). 

25.  Willie's  Lyke-Wake. 

P.  250,  II,  502  a,  III,  503  a.  Italian.  Add  :  Canti 
pop.  Emiliani,  Maria  Carmi,  Archivio,  XII,  187,  No  9. 
A  fragment  in  Dalmedico,  Canti  del  popolo  veneziano, 
p.  109,  seems,  as  Maria  Carmi  suggests,  to  belong  to  this 
ballad. 

26.  The  Three  Ravens. 

P.  253.  It  has  already  been  noted  that  traditional 
copies  of  *  The  Three  Ravens  'have  been  far  from  infre- 
quent. When  a  ballad  has  been  nearly  three  hundred 
years  in  print,  and  in  a  very  impressive  form,  the 
chance  that  traditional  copies,  diflEering  principally  by 
what  they  lack,  should  be  coeval  and  independent 
amounts  at  most  to   a  bare  possibility.     Traditional 


copies  have,  however,  sometimes  been  given  in  this  col- 
lection on  the  ground  of  a  very  slight  chance;  and  not 
unreasonably,  I  think,  considering  the  scope  of  the 
undertaking. 

The  copy  which  follows  was  communicated  by  E.  L. 
K.  to  Notes  and  Queries,  Eighth  Series,  II,  437,  1892, 
and  has  been  sent  me  lately  in  MS.  by  Mr  R.  Brimley 
Johnson,  of  Cambridge,  England,  with  this  note  : 

"From  E.  Peacock,  Esq.,  F.  S.  A.,  of  Dunstan 
House,  Kirton-in-Lindsay,  Lincolnshire,  whose  father, 
born  in  1793,  heard  it  as  a  boy  at  harvest-suppers  and 
sheep-shearings,  and  took  down  a  copy  from  the  recita- 
tion of  Harry  Richard,  a  laborer,  who  could  not  read, 
and  had  learnt  it  '  from  his  fore-elders.'  He  lived  at 
Northorpe,  where  a  grass-field  joining  a  little  stream, 
called  Ea,  Ee,  and  Hay,  is  pointed  out  as  the  scene  of 
the  tragedy." 

1  There  was  three  ravens  in  a  tree, 

As  black  as  any  jet  could  be.  - 

A  down  a  derry  down 

2  Says  the  middlemost  raven  to  his  mate, 
Where  shall  we  go  to  get  ought  to  eat? 

3  '  It 's  down  in  yonder  grass-green  field 
There  Ues  a  squire  dead  and  killd. 

4  '  His  horse  all  standing  by  his  side, 
Thinking  he  '11  get  up  and  ride. 

5  '  His  hounds  all  standing  at  his  feet, 
Licking  his  wounds  that  run  so  deep.* 

6  Then  comes  a  lady,  full  of  woe, 
As  big  wi  bairn  as  she  can  go. 

7  She  lifted  up  his  bloody  head, 
And  kissd  his  lips  that  were  so  red. 

8  She  laid  her  down  all  by  his  side, 
And  for  the  love  of  him  she  died. 

6».  Far.  child. 


27.  The  Whummil  Bore. 

P.  255.  Serving  the  king  long  without  sight  of  his 
daughter.  Prof.  WoUner  notes  that  this  trait  is  rather 
frequently  found  in  Slavic.  For  example,  in  Karad^itf, 
n,  617,  No  96,  YakSi6  Mitar  serves  the  vojvode  Yanko 
nine  years  and  never  sees  his  sister. 

29.  The  Boy  and  the  Mantle. 

P.  268  &.,  II,  502  a,  III,  503,  IV,  454  a.  Tests  of 
chastity.  On  the  Herodotean  story,  I,  271,  see  E. 
Lefebure,  Mdlusine,  IV,  37-39.—  St  Wilfred's  Needle, 
in  Ripon  Minster.  '  In  ipso  templo,  avorum  memoria 
Wilfridi  acus  celeberrima  fuit.    Id  erat  augustum  in 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


213 


crjrptoporticu  foramen  quo  mulierum  pudicitia  explora- 
batur  ;  quae  enim  castse  erant  facile  transibant,  quae 
dubia  fama  nescio  quo  miraculo  constrictae  detineban- 
tur.'  Camden,  Britannia,  ed.  1607,  p.  570;  see  Folk- 
Lore  Journal,  II,  286.     (G.  L.  K.) 


31.  The  Marriage  of  Sir  Gawain. 

P,  293.  Mr  Clouston,  Originals  and  Analogues  of 
some  of  Chaucer's  Canterbury  Tales,  p.  520  cites  a  pretty- 
story  from  a  modern  Turkish  author,  in  which,  as  so 
often  happens,  parts  are  reversed.  A  young  king  of 
the  fairies  of  a  certain  realm  is  cursed  by  his  mother 
to  appear  old  and  ugly  until  a  fair  mortal  girl  shall  love 
him  enough  to  miss  his  company.  This  comes  to  pass 
after  forty  years,  and  the  ugly  old  man  becomes  a 
beautiful  youth  of  seventeen.  (Phantasms  from  the 
Presence  of  God,  written  in  1796-97  by  *Ali  'Aziz 
Efendi,  the  Cretan.) 


33.   Kempy  Kay. 

P.  301.  A  was  communicated  to  C.  K.  Sharpe  by 
Robert  Pitcairn  with  the  stanzas  in  the  order  printed 
by  Sharpe.  The  arrangement  in  A  would  seem,  there- 
fore, to  have  been  an  afterthought  of  Pitcairn's.  There 
is  some  slight  difference  of  reading,  also,  in  Pitcairn's 
MS.,  and  one  defect  is  supplied.  The  variations  in  the 
copy  sent  Sharpe  are  (besides  the  order,  as  aforesaid) 
as  follows  : 

2\  I  'm  coming.     2*.  o  weir. 

8*.  three  heire  wanting.    4*.  Shone.    5^.  bruchty. 

5*.  the  night.     6*.  And  in.     7*.  Between. 

9*.  a  lintseed  bow  (with  the  variant  a  bruchtit  ewe). 

10*.  lauchty.     10*.  A'  wanting.     12*.  teeth  into. 

13*.  sheets  (no  doubt  erroneously).  A  stanza  be- 
tween 8  and  9  is  noted  as  deficient,  and  something 
after  13. 

303.  C.  In  a  copy  of  C  sent  Sharpe  by  Motherwell 
in  a  letter  of  December  6,  1824,  the  fourth  stanza  is 
lacking,  the  fifth  is  third. 

8'.  span  :  years.    5*.  stool. 

*  Knip  Knap,'  taken  down  in  the  summer  of  1893  by 
Mr  Walker,  of  Aberdeen,  at  Portlethen,  from  the  sing- 
ing of  an  old  man,  as  learned  more  than  fifty  years 
before  from  an  old  blacksmith  at  Dyee,  near  Aberdeen. 

1  Knip  Knap  a  hunting  went, 

Out-ower  the  head  o  yon  hill,  aye,  aye 
Wi  a  lust  0  pig-staves  out-oer  his  shouther, 
An  mony  a  dulchach  forby,  aye,  aye 

2  There  he  met  an  old  woman. 

Was  herdin  at  her  kye ; 
'  I  'm  come  yer  ae  dochter  to  woo,' 
*  She  's  a  very  good  servant,'  said  I. 


3  The  wife  gaed  hame  to  her  ain  hole-house, 

Lookit  in  at  her  ain  spunk-hole. 
An  there  she  saw  her  ain  foul  flag, 
Loupin  across  the  coal. 

4  '  Win  up,  win  up,  my  ae  foul  flag, 

An  mak  yer  foul  face  clean. 
For  yer  wooer  is  comin  here  the  nicht, 
But  yer  foul  face  canna  be  seen,  na,  na ' 

5  She 's  taen  the  sheave-wisps  out  o  her  sheen, 

An  in  behint  the  door, 
An  she  has  faen  to  the  stale  Strang, 
Seven  year  auld  an  more. 

6  An  aye  she  scrubbit,  an  aye  she  weesh, 

Out-ower  the  pint  o  her  chin, 
Till  a  knip-knap  cam  to  the  door. 
She  kent  it  was  her  wooer. 

7  He  's  taen  her  in  his  airms  twa, 

Kissd  her  cheek  an  chin  : 
« An  I  hae  gotten  kisses  twa, 
Whaur  I  never  thocht  to  get  ane.* 

8  The  verra  hair  was  in  her  head 

Was  like  the  heather-cowe, 
An  ilka  louse  at  the  reet  o  that 
Was  like  a  brockit  ewe. 

9  The  verra  ee  was  in  her  head 

Was  like  a  muckle  pan, 
The  hunkers  and  clunkers  that  hang  frae  her  sheen 
Wad  hae  covered  an  acre  o  Ian. 

10  The  verra  teeth  was  in  her  head 

Was  like  a  tether's  check. 
An  the  sneeters  and  snotters  that  hang  frae  her  nose 
Wad  a  gart  a  frozen  mill  gang. 

11  The  verra  tongue  was  in  her  head 

Wad  been  a  guid  mill-clap, 


12 


An  ye  may  know  very  weel  by  that 
She  was  a  comely  woman. 

34.  Kemp  Owyne. 

P.  309.  From  a  manuscript  collection  of  Charles 
Kirkpatrick  Sharpe's,  p.  2  ;  "Second  Collection,"  see 
Sharpe's  Ballad  Book,  ed.  1880,  p.  144.  This  copy 
closely  resembles  A. 

1  Her  mother  died  when  she  was  young, 
And  was  laid  in  the  silent  tomb  ; 


2M 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


The  father  weded  the  weel  worst  woman 
This  day  that  lives  in  Christiendom. 

2  She  served  her  with  hands  and  feet, 

In  every  way  that  well  could  be, 
Yet  she  did  once  upon  a  day 
Throw  her  in  over  a  craig  of  sea. 

3  Says,  Ly  you  there,  you  dove  Isabeal, 

And  let  you  never  borrowed  be 
Till  Kempenwine  come  ower  the  sea 

And  borrow  you  with  kisses  three  ; 
Whatever  any  may  do  or  say, 

0  borrowed  may  you  never  be! 

4  Her  breath  grew  strong,  and  her  hair  grew  long, 

And  twisted  thrice  about  a  tree, 
And  so  hideous-like  she  did  apear 

That  all  who  saw  her  from  her  did  flee. 

5  Now  Kempenwine  gat  word  of  this  " 

Where  he  was  living  beyond  the  sea  ; 
He  hied  him  straight  unto  that  shoar. 
The  monstrous  creature  for  to  se. 

6  Her  breath  was  strong,  and  her  hair  was  long, 

And  twisted  was  around  the  tree. 
And  with  a  swing  she  cried  aloud, 

Come  to  craig  of  sea  and  kiss  with  me. 

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

'  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, 

1  vow  this  brand  your  death  shall  be.' 

8  He  stepped  in,  gave  her  a  kiss, 

The  royal  ring  he  brought  him  wi ; 
Her  breath  was  strong,  and  [her]  hair  was  long, 

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

'  Come  to  craig  of  sea  and  kiss  with  me. 

9  *  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  this  brand  your  death  shall  be.* 

10  He  stepped  in,  gave  her  a  kiss, 

The  royal  belt  he  brought  him  wee  ; 
Her  breath  yet  strong,  her  hair  yet  long. 

Yet  twisted  once  about  the  tree. 
And  with  a  swing  she  came  about, 

'  Come  to  craig  of  sea  and  kiss  with  me. 

11  *  Here  is  a  royal  brand,'  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  brand  your  death  shall  be.' 

12  He  stepped  in,  gave  her  a  kiss. 

The  royal  brand  he  brought  him  wee ; 

Her  breath  now  soft,  her  hair  now  short. 
And  disengaged  from  the  tree. 

She  fell  into  his  arms  two. 
As  fair  a  woman  as  ever  could  be. 

Written  in  long  lines,  and  not  divided  into  stanzas. 
8».  him  with.    6*,  8^,  lO^.  Craig  of  sea. 


35.  Allison  Gross. 

P.  314.  Gifts  offered  by  a  hill-maid.  *  Bjaergjom- 
fruens  Frieri,'  Kristensen,  Skattegraveren,  II,  100,  No 
460  ;  XII,  22  ff.,  Nos  16,  17  ;  Folkeminder,  XI,  20  ff., 
No  18,  A-E. 


36.  The  Laily  Worm  and  the  Mackrel  of 
the  Sea. 

P.  315.  Though  Skene  has  rendered  this  ballad 
with  reasonable  fidelity,  for  an  editor,  it  shall,  on  ac- 
count of  its  interest,  be  given  as  it  stands  in  the  old 
lady's  MS.,  where  it  is  No  2.  It  proves  not  absolutely 
true,  as  I  have  said,  that  the  Skene  ballad  has  "  never 
been  retouched  by  a  pen." 

1  *  I  was  bat  seven  year  alld 

Fan  my  mider  she  did  dee, 
My  father  marred  the  ae  warst  woman 
The  wardle  did  ever  see. 

2  *  For  she  has  made  me  the  lailly  worm 

That  lays  att  the  fitt  of  the  tree. 
An  o  my  sister  Meassry 
The  machrel  of  the  sea. 

3  '  An  every  Saterday  att  noon 

The  machrl  comes  ea  to  me, 
An  she  takes  my  layle  head. 

An  lays  it  on  her  knee, 
An  keames  it  we  a  silver  kemm, 

An  washes  it  in  the  sea. 

4  *  Seven  knights  ha  I  slain 

Sane  I  lay  att  the  fitt  of  the  tree  ; 
An  ye  war  na  my  ain  father. 
The  eight  an  ye  sud  be.' 

5  *  Sing  on  your  song,  ye  l[a]ily  worm. 

That  ye  sung  to  me ; ' 
*  I  never  sung  that  song 
But  fatt  I  wad  sing  to  ye. 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


215 


6  '  I  was  but  seven  year  auU 

Fan  my  mider  she  [did]  dee, 
My  father  marred  the  a  warst  woman 
The  wardle  did  ever  see. 

7  <  She  changed  me  to  the  layel[y]  worm 

That  layes  att  the  fitt  of  the  tree, 
An  my  sister  Messry  ^ 

[To]  the  makrell  of  the  sea. 

8  *  And  every  Saterday  att  noon 

The  machrell  comes  to  me, 
An  she  takes  my  layly  head. 

An  layes  it  on  her  knee, 
An  kames  it  weth  a  siller  kame, 

An  washes  it  in  the  sea. 

9  '  Seven  knights  ha  I  slain 

San  I  lay  att  the  fitt  of  the  tree  ; 
An  ye  war  na  my  ain  father,  ' 

The  eight  ye  sud  be.' 

10  He  sent  for  his  lady 

As  fast  as  sen  cod  he  : 

*  Far  is  my  son, 

That  ye  sent  fra  me, 
And  my  daughter, 
Lady  Messry  ?  * 

11  *  Yer  son  is  att  our  king's  court, 

Sarving  for  meatt  an  fee. 
And  yer  doughter  is  att  our  quin's  court, 
A  mary  suit  an  free.' 

12  *  Ye  lee,  ye  ill  woman, 

Sa  loud  as  I  hear  ye  lea, 
For  my  son  is  the  layelly  worm 

That  lays  at  the  fitt  of  the  tree, 
An  my  daughter  Messry 

The  machrell  of  the  sea.' 

13  She  has  tain  a  silver  wan 

An  gine  him  stroks  three. 
An  he  started  up  the  bravest  knight 
Your  eyes  did  ever  see. 

14  She  has  tane  a  small  horn 

An  loud  an  shill  blue  she. 
An  a'  the  came  her  tell  but  the  proud  machrell, 
An  she  stood  by  the  sea  : 

*  Ye  shaped  me  ance  an  unshemly  shape, 

An  ye  's  never  mare  shape  me.' 

15  He  has  sent  to  the  wood 

For  hathorn  an  fun, 
An  he  has  tane  that  gay  lady. 
An  ther  he  did  her  burne. 

Written  without  division  into  stanzas  or  verses. 

3*.  comes  ea  (aye) ;  but,  on  repetition  in  8^,  comes 

simply,  with  better  metre, 
15*.  hes  has.     15'.  that  that. 


316.  '  Nattergalen,'  in  Kristensen,  Folkeminder, 
XI,  25,  Ko  20,  ^-C. 

In  a  Kaffir  tale  a  girl  marries  a  crocodile.  The  croc- 
odile bids  her  lick  his  face.  Upon  her  doing  so,  the 
crocodile  casts  his  skin  and  turns  into  a  strong  and 
handsome  man.  He  had  been  transformed  by  the  ene- 
mies of  his  father's  house.  (Theal,  Kaffir  Folk-Lore, 
1882,  p.  37,  cited  by  Mr  Clouston.) 


39.  Tam  Lin. 

P.  339.  Teind  to  hell.  See  Isabel  Gowdie's  case, 
in  the  Scottish  Journal,  I,  256,  and  compare  Pitcairn's 
Criminal  Trials. 

345.  D  a.  This  copy  occurs  in  "  the  second  collec- 
tion "  of  Charles  Kirkpatrick  Sharpe,  p.  3,  with  a  few 
variations,  as  follows.  (See  Sharpe's  Ballad  Book,  ed. 
1880,  p.  145.) 

1'.  Charters  wood,  and  always.     3^.  the  seam. 

S*.  is  gone.    5^.  ye.     6*.  ask  no.     10*.  we  have. 

111.  to  me.     122.  aft.     128.  the  Lord  of  Forbes. 

12*   all  his.     15  occurs  after  24.     IS^.  Tho  Elfin. 

15*.  the  tenth  one  goes.    15*.  I  am  an,  or,  I  a  man. 

166.  if  that.     166.  miles  Cross. 

1 7\  go  unto  the  Miles  cross.     20*.  next  the. 

23S  241.  int.     251.  She  did  her  down. 

272.  so  green.     278.  "Where.     27*.  ride  next. 

28*.  he  is.     29*.  He.     32^.  and  cry. 

341.  I  thought. 


40.  The  Queen  of  Blfan's  Nourice. 

P.  358,  n,  505  b,  III,  505  b,  IV,  459  a.  Mortal  mid- 
wife for  fairies.  *  La  Sage-femme  et  la  Fee,'  R.  Basset, 
Contes  pop.  berbet-es,  1887,  No  26,  p.  55  (and  see  notes, 
pp.162,  163).     (G.  L.  K.) 


41.  Hind  Etin. 

P.  361  b.  III,  506  a,  IV,  459  a.  Danish.  'Jom- 
fruen  i  Bjaerget,'  fragment,  in  Kristensen,  Folke- 
minder, XI,  6,  No  12. 

364  a,  III,  506  a,  IV,  459  a.  Danish.  '  Agnete  og 
Havmanden,'  Kristensen,  Skattegraveren,  III,  p.  17, 
No  34,  Xn,  65  S.,  Nos  136,  137  ;  Efterslaet,  p.  2,  No  2, 
p.  174,  No  126  ;  Folkeminder,  XI,  7,  No  13,  A-D. 


42.  Clerk  ColviU. 

P.  371,  No  42,  p.  389.  C  in  Findlay  MSS,  I,  141  : 
•  Clerk  Colin,'  from  Miss  Butchart,  Arbroath,  1868. 
Miss  Butchart,  who  died  about  1890,  aged  above  ninety 
years,  was  the  daughter  of  the  Mrs  Butchart  from 
whom  Kinloch  got  certain  ballads,  and  niece  to  the 
Mrs  Arrot  who  was  one  of  Jamieson's  contributors.  In 
the  MS.  there  are  these  readings  : 


216 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


28.  To  gang.    48. 
61.  To  Clyde's. 


maun  gae.     5^.  could  gang. 


374  b,  IV,  459  a.  Danish.  *  Elveskud,'  Kristensen, 
Skattegraveren,  XII,  54,  Ko  125 ;  '  Elvedansen,*  Folke- 
minder"  XI,  15,  No  17,  A-C. 

380,  II,  506  a,  III,  506  a,  IV,  459  a.  TT,  ♦  La  chan- 
son de  Renaud,'  Pineau,  Le  Folk-Lore  du  Poitou, 
p.  399  ;  UU,  '  La  Mort  de  Jean  Raynaud,  Wallonia, 
1,22. 

VV,  WW.  Versions  de  la  Bresse,  one,  and  a  frag- 
ment, J.  Tiersot,  Revue  des  Traditions  Populaires, 
VII,  654  £E. 

382,  II,  506  a.  III,  506  a.  Italian.  N.  '  El  conte 
Anzolin,'  Villanis,  Canzoni  pop.  Zaratine,  Archivio,  XI, 
32.  A  burlesque  form  in  Canti  pop.  Emiliani,  Maria 
Carmi,  Archivio,  XII,  186,  and  a  Venetian  rispetto  of 
the  same  character  (noted  by  Maria  Carmi)  in  Bernoni, 
Canti  pop.  Veneziani,  1873,  Puntata  7,  p.  12,  No  62. 

44.  The  Twa  Magicians. 

P.  400  a.  III,  506  b,  IV,  459  b.  French.  Y.  'Les 
Transformations,'  Wallonia,  I,  50. 

401  b,  3d  paragraph.  Say:  Cosquin,  Contes  lor- 
rains,  I,  103,  No  9,  and  notes. 

402  a,  last  paragraph,  Gwion.  See  the  mabinogi  of 
Taliesin  in  Lady  Charlotte  Guest's  Mabinogion,  Part 
VII,  p.  358  f. 

45.  King  John  and  the  Bishop. 

P.  405  b,  n,  506,  IV,  459  b.  Another  Magyar  ver- 
sion in  Zs.  f.  vergleichende  Literaturgeschichte,  N.  F. 
V,  467. 

46.  Captain  "Wedderburn's  Courtship. 

P.  414.  Rev.  J.  Baring-Gould  informs  me  that  there  is 
an  Irish  version  of  this  piece  in  Ulster  Ballads,  British 
Museum,  11 6  2.  k.  6 ,  entitled '  The  Lover's  Riddle.'  The 
lady,  who  in  B,  C  is  walking  through  the  wood '  her  lane,' 
is  in  the  Ulster  copy  walking  *  down  a  narrow  lane,* 
and  she  meets  '  with  William  Dicken,  a  keeper  of  the 
game.'  The  only  important  difference  as  to  the  riddles 
and  the  answers  is  that  the  young  lady  remembers  her 
Bible  to  good  purpose,  and  gives  Melchisedec  as  an  ex- 
ample of  a  priest  unborn  (Hebrews  vii,  3). 

415,  note  f.  Miss  M.  H.  Mason  gives  two  copies  in 
her  Nursery  Rhymes  and  Country  Songs,  pp.  23,  24, 
'  A  Paradox.' 

417,  note  t,  II,  507  b.  III,  507  a,  IV,  459  b.  "  They 
were  told  that  in  front  of  the  king's  house  there 
were  twenty-score  poles,  with  a  head  on  each  pole  with 
the  exception  of  three."  '  The  Lad  with  the  Skin  Cov- 
erings,' J.  G.  Campbell,  The  Fians,  p.  261.  (There 
are  three  adventurers  in  this  case.)     (G.  L.  K.) 

421.  B.  h.  '  Captian  Wederburn,'  "  The  Old  Lady's 
Collection,"  No  38. 


B.  a.  1    The  lard  of  Roslie's  doughter  was  walking  on 

the  green. 
An  by  came  Captain  Wederburn,  a  servant 

to  our  king. 
An  he  said  to  his    livery-man,   Wer  it  no 

agenst  our  laa, 
I  wad  take  her  to  my  ain  bed  an  lay  her  neast 

the  waa. 

a.  2    '  I  am  in  my  father's  garden,  walken  among 
my  father's  trees. 
An   ye  dou  latt  me  walk  a  whill  nou,  kind 

sir,  if  ye  pleas  ; 
For  the  supper-beals  they  will  be  rung  an  I 
will  be  mised  awa, 
a.  48.  An  my  father  will  ate  nae  supper  gine  I  be 
mised  awa.' 

a.  6.    He  lighted  off  his  hors  an  sett  the  lady  one, 

A.  a.  6^'8.  He  sett  her  ahind  his  livery-man,  was  leath 
to  latt  her  faa  : 

A.  a.  5*.   *  We 's  baith  lay  in  ae  bed,  an  ye  's  lay  neast 

the  wa.' 

B.  a.  7    Fan  they  came  to  his  quarter-house,  his  land- 

l[ad]y  came  ben  : 
*  Ther  is  mony  bonny  lady  in  Edenbrugh  toun. 
Bat  sick  a  bonny  lady  is  no  in  it  aa ; ' 
Says,  '  Lass,  mak  up  a  doun-bed,  we  will  lay 

her  nist  the  waa.' 

a.  8    '  Hold  yer  toung,  young  man,'  she  says,  •  an 
latt  yer  folly  be  ; 
I  winne  come  to  my  bed  till  ye  gett  to  me 
things  three. 


a.  9    *Ye  gett  to  my  supper  a  cherrey  without  a 

ston. 
An  ye  gett  to  my  suppeer  a  chiken  without  a 

bone. 
An  ye  gett  to  my  super  a  burd  that  flayes 

without  a  gaa, 
Or  I  winne  lay  in  your  bed,  nether  att  stok 

nor  waa.' 

a.  10  •  The  cherry  when  it  is  in  the  bloum,  it  is  with- 
out a  ston ; 

The  chiken  when  it  is  in  the  egg  is  without  a 
bon ; 

The  dove  she  is  a  harmless  burd,  she  flays 
without  a  gaa ; 

An  we  ' 8  baith  lay  in  ae  bed,  an  ye  *s  lay  nist 
the  waa.' 

a.  15  'Hold  off  yer  hands,  young  man,'  she  says, 
*an  dou  not  me  perplex ; 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


217 


I  winne  gae  to  my  bed  till  ye  tell  me  qustens 
six  ; 


a.  16   'What  is  greaner   nor  the   grass?  what  ia 

hig[h]er  the[n]  the  tree  ? 
What  is  war  nor  woman's  wish  ?  what  is  deaper 

nor  the  sea? 
What  burd  sings  first?  what  life  buds  first,  an 

what  dos  on  it  faa? 
I  winne  lay  in  your  bed,  nether  att  stok  nor 

waa.' 

a.  1 7   *  Death  is  greaner  nor  the  grass ;  heaven  is 

higher  nor  the  tree  ; 
The  devill  is  war  nor  woman's  wish  ;  hell  is 

deaper  nor  the  sea  ; 
The  coke  crous  first ;  the  suderen  wood  springs 

first,  the  due  dos  on  it  faa  ; 
An  we 's  baith  lay  in  ae  bed,  an  ye  's  lay  neast 

the  waa.' 

a.  11    *  Hold  off  yer  hands,  young  man,'  she  says, 
*  an  yer  folly  gie  our, 
I  winne  come  to  your  bed  till  ye  gett  to  me 
things  four ; 


a.  12  *Ye  gett  to  me  a  cherry  that  in  December 

grou  ; 
Leguays  a  fine   silk  man  tell  that   waft  gad 

never  throu ; 
A  sparrou's  horn,  a  prist  unborn,  this  night 

to  join  us  tua ; 
Or  I  winne  lay  in  your  bed,  nether  att  stok 

nor  waa.' 

a.  13   *  Ther  is  a  hote-bed  in  my  father's  garden 
wher  winter  chirrys  grou, 
Lequays  a  fine  silk  mantell  in  his  closet  which 
waft  never  gaid  throu ; 


a.  14  '  Ther  is  a  prist  nou  att  the  dore,  just  ready 

to  come  in. 
An  never  one  could  say  he  was  born. 
For  ther  was  a  hoU  cut  out  of  his  mother's 

side,  an  out  of  it  he  did  faa ; 
An  we  's  baith  lay  in  ae  bed,  an  ye  's  lay  nist 

the  waa.' 

a.  18  Littel  kent  the  lassie  in  the  morning  fan  she 
raise 
That  wad  be  the  last  of  a'  her  maiden  days ; 
For  nou  she  is  marred  to  Captian  Wederburn, 
that  afore  she  never  saa, 
VOL.  V.  28 


An  they  baith  lay  in  ae  bed,  an  she  lays  nest 
the  waa. 

7*.  Lays,  Lass.     10^.  bloun.     12i.  grous. 


49.  The  Twa  Brothers. 

P.  436  a,  3d  paragraph.  It  ought  to  have  been  re- 
marked that  it  was  a  William  Somerville  that  killed 
John.  The  names  being  the  same  as  in  the  ballad, 
"unusually  gratuitous  "  is  not  warranted. 

438.  A  was  derived  by  Sharpe  from  Elizabeth 
Kerry.  Tlie  original  copy  was  not  all  written  at  one 
time,  but  may  have  been  written  by  one  person.  The 
first  and  the  last  stanza,  and  some  corrections,  are  in 
the  same  hand  as  a  letter  which  accompanied  the 
ballad.  The  paper  has  a  watermark  of  1817.  A  few 
trifling  differences  in  the  MS.  may  be  noted : 

1\  twa. 

1'.  school  (Note.    "I  have  heard   it  called   the 

Chase  ")  :  the  githar. 
1*.  a  far.     2\  wrestled.     4*.  And.     5^.  brother. 
68.  both.     72,  82,  92.  Should /or  Gin. 
8^  what  shall.     10^.  But  wanting. 
10*.  in  fair  Kirkland.     (Letter.     "  I  remembered  a 

fair  Kirk  something,  and  Kirkland  it  must  have 

been.") 
10*.  again  wanting. 


'  Perthshire  Tredgey.'  From  a  copy  formerly  in  the  pos- 
session of  Charles  Kirkpatrick  Sharpe.  This  fragment  has 
some  resemblances  to  P.  "Copied  1823  "is  endorsed  on 
the  sheet  (in  the  hand  which  made  an  insertion  in  st.  11) 
and  crossed  out. 

1  Two  pretty  boys  lived  in  the  North, 

The  went  to  the  school  so  rare  ; 
The  one  unto  the  other  said, 
We  '11  try  some  battle  of  war. 

2  The  worselaid  up,  the  worselaid  down, 

Till  John  lay  on  the  ground  ; 
A  pen-knife  out  of  William's  pocket 
Gave  John  a  deadly  wound. 

3  *  O  is  it  for  my  gold  ?  '  he  said, 

'  Or  for  my  rich  monie  ? 
Or  is  it  for  my  land  sa  broad. 
That  you  have  killed  me  ? ' 

4  *  It 's  neither  for  your  gold,'  he  said, 

'  Or  for  your  rich  monie, 
But  it  is  for  your   land  sa  broad 
That  I  have  killed  thee.' 


218 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


5  '  You  '11  take  [me]  up  upon  your  back, 

Carry  me  to  Wastlen  kirk-yard  ; 
You  'ill  houk  a  hole  large  and  deep, 
And  lay  my  body  there. 

6  '  You  '11  put  a  good  stone  ou  my  head, 

Another  at  my  feet, 
A  good  green  turf  upon  my  breast. 
That  the  sounder  I  m[a]y  sleep. 

7  '  And  if  my  father  chance  to  ask 

What 's  come  of  your  brother  John, 


8  '  "What  blood  is  this  upon  your  coat  ? 

I  pray  come  tell  to  me  ; ' 
'  It  is  the  blood  of  my  grey  hound. 
It  would  not  run  for  me.' 

9  '  The  blood  of  your  greyhound  was  near  so  red, 

I  pray  come  tell  to  me  ; ' 
'  It  is  the  blood  of  my  black  horse, 
It  would  not  hunt  for  me.' 

10  '  The  blood  of  your  black  horse  was  near  so  red, 
I  pray  come  tell  to  me ; ' 
*  It  is  the  blood  of  my  brother  John, 
Since  better  canna  be.' 


11  He  put  his  foot  upon  a  ship, 

Saying,  I  am  gane  our  the  sea ; 
*  O  when  will  you  come  back  again, 
I  pray  come  tell  to  me.' 

12  *  When  the  sun  and  the  moon  passes  over  the 

broom, 
That  ['s]  the  day  you  '11  never  see.* 

2\  worse  laid,  misheard  for  warseled. 

3'.  lands  abroad  for  land  sae  broad  (mis- 
heard). 

4}.  After  your,  la  and  half  of  an  n,  Ian  caught 
from  Z\ 

4'.  land  abroad.  The  reciter,  or  rnore  proha- 
hly  the  transcriber,  has  become  confirmed  in 
the  error  made  in  3*. 

11'.  come  inserted  in  a  different  hand. 

11''*  should  probably  be  the  first  half  of 
stanza  12. 


50.  The  Bonny  Hind. 

P.  444  a.  Motherwell  MS.,  p.  485,  professes  to  copy 
the  ballad  from  Herd's  MS.  by  way  of  supplying  the 
stanzas  wanting  in  Scott.  There  are,  however,  in 
Motherwell's  transcript  considerable  deviations  from 
Herd,  a  fact  which  I  am  unable  to  understand. 


53.  Young  Beiohan. 

P.  454.  'Lord  Beichim,'  Findlay's  MSS,  I,  1,  from 
Jeanie  Meldrum,  Framedrum,  Forfarshire,  has  these 
verses,  found  in  G  and  in  Spanish  and  Italian  ballads. 

("  She  meets  a  shepherd  and  addresses  him.") 

*  Whas  are  a'  thae  flocks  o  sheep  ? 

And  whas  are  a'  thae  droves  o  kye? 
And  whas  are  a'  thae  statelie  mansions, 
That  are  in  the  way  that  I  passd  bye?  ' 

♦  O  these  are  a'  Lord  Beichim's  sheep, 

And  these  are  a'  Lord  Beichim's  kye, 
And  these  are  a'  Lord  Beichim's  castles, 
That  are  in  the  way  that  ye  passd  bye.* 

There  are  three  or  four  stanzas  more,  but  they  re- 
semble the  English  vulgar  broadsides.  There  must 
have  been  a  printed  copy  in  circulation  in  Scotland 
which  has  not  been  recovered. 

468,  D  is  now  given  as  it  stands  in  "The  Old 
Lady's  Collection,"  from  which  it  was  copied  by 
Skene  :  '  Young  Beachen,'  No.  14. 

1  Young  Beachen  as  born  in  fair  London, 

An  foiren  lands  he  langed  to  see, 
An  he  was  tean  by  the  savage  Mour, 
An  they  used  him  mast  cruely. 

2  Throu  his  shoulder  they  patt  a  bore, 

An  throu  the  bore  they  patt  a  tree, 
An  they  made  him  tralle  ther  ousen-carts, 
An  they  used  him  most  cruelly. 

3  The  savige  More  had  ae  doughter, 

I  wat  her  name  was  Susan  Pay, 
An  she  is  to  the  prison-house 
To  hear  the  prisenor's  mone. 

4  He  made  na  his  mone  to  a  stok. 

He  made  it  no  to  a  ston, 
But  it  was  to  the  Quin  of  Heaven, 
That  he  made  his  mone. 

5  '  Gine  a  lady  wad  borrou  me, 

Att  her  foot  I  wad  rune, 
An  a  widdou  wad  borrou  me, 
I  wad  becom  her  sone. 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


219 


6  •  Bat  an  a  maid  wad  borrou  me, 

I  wad  wed  her  we  a  ring, 
I  wad  make  her  lady  of  haas  an  hours, 
An  of  the  high  tours  of  Line.' 

7  *  Sing  our  yer  sang,  Young  Bichen,'  she  says, 

'  Sing  our  yer  sang  to  me  ; ' 
'  I  never  sang  that  sang,  lady. 
Bat  fat  I  wad  sing  to  ye. 

8  *  An  a  lady  wad  borrou  me, 

Att  her  foot  I  wad  rune, 
An  a  widdou  wad  borrou  me, 
I  wad  becom  her  son. 

9  *  Bat  an  a  maid  wad  borrou  me, 

I  wad  wed  her  we  a  ring, 
I  wad  mak  her  lady  of  haas  an  hours. 
An  of  the  high  tours  of  Line.' 

10  Saftly  gaid  she  but, 

An  saftly  gaid  she  ben  ; 
It  was  na  for  want  of  hose  nor  shone, 
Nor  time  to  pit  them  on. 


11 


An  she  has  stoun  the  kees  of  the  prison. 
An  latten  Young  Beachen  gang. 

12  She  gae  him  a  lofe  of  her  whit  bread, 

An  a  bottel  of  her  wine. 
She  bad  him  mind  on  the  leady's  love 
That  fread  him  out  of  pine. 

13  She  gae  him  a  stead  was  gued  in  time  of  nead, 

A  sadle  of  the  bone, 
Five  hundred  poun  in  his  poket. 
Bad  him  gae  speading  home. 

14  An  a  lish  of  gued  gray  bonds, 


15  Fan  seven  lang  year  wer  come  an  gane, 

Shusie  Pay  thought  lang. 
An  she  is  on  to  fair  London, 
As  fast  as  she  could  gang. 

16  Fan  she  came  to  Young  Beachen's  gate, 

*  Is  Young  Beachen  att  home. 
Or  is  he  in  this  country  ? ' 

17  '  He  is  att  home, 

[H]is  bearly  bride  him  we ;  * 
Sighan  says  her  Suse  Pay, 
'  Was  he  quit  forgoten  me?  * 


18  On  every  finger  she  had  a  ring, 

An  on  the  middel  finger  three  ; 
She  gave  the  porter  on  of  them, 

*  Grett  a  word  of  your  lord  to  me.* 

19  He  gaed  up  the  stare, 

Fell  lau  doun  on  his  knee : 

*  Win  up,  my  proud  porter. 

What  is  your  will  we  [me]  ? ' 

20  *  I  ha  ben  porter  att  your  gate 

This  therty  year  an  three  ; 
The  fairest  lady  is  att  yer  gate 
Mine  eays  did  ever  see.' 

21  Out  spak  the  brid's  mother, 

An  a  haghty  woman  was  she  ; 
'  If  ye  had  not  excepted  the  bonny  brid. 
Ye  might  well  ha  excepted  me.' 

22  *  No  desparegment  to  you,  madam. 

Nor  non  to  her  grace  ; 

The  sol  of  yon  lady's  foot 

Is  fairer  then  yer  face.' 

23  He  's  geen  the  table  we  his  foot. 

An  caped  it  we  his  knee  : 

*  I  wad  my  head  an  a'  my  land 

It  *s  Susie  Pay  come  over  the  sea.* 

24  The  stare  was  therty  steps, 

I  wat  he  made  them  three  ; 
He  toke  her  in  his  arms  tua, 

*  Susie  Pay,  y  'er  welcom  to  me!  * 

25  *  Gie  me  a  shive  of  your  whit  bread. 

An  a  bottel  of  your  wine  ; 
Dinner  ye  mind  on  the  lady's  love 
That  freed  ye  out  of  pine? ' 

26  He  took  her 

Doun  to  yon  garden  green. 
An  changed  her  name  fra  Shusie  Pay, 
An  called  her  bonny  Lady  Jean. 

27  *  Yer  daughter  came  hear  on  high  hors-back. 

She  sail  gae  hame  in  coaches  three. 
An  I  sail  dubel  her  tocher  our, 
She  is  nean  the  war  of  me.' 

28  '  It 's  na  the  fashon  of  our  country. 

Nor  yet  of  our  name, 
To  wed  a  may  in  the  morning 
An  send  her  hame  att  none.' 

29  '  It 's  na  the  fashon  of  my  country. 

Nor  of  my  name, 
Bat  I  man  mind  on  the  lady's  love 
That  freed  me  out  of  pine.' 


220 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


52.  I  att  her  foot  I :  cf.  S^.     98.  tours  :  c/.  68 
13*.  spending.     178.  Sigh  an.     IS^.  niddel. 
Ajier  29 : 

Courtes  kind  an  generse  mind, 

An  winne  ye  ansur  me? 
An  fan  they  hard  ther  lady's  word, 

Well  ansuared  was  she. 

P.  476,  II,  508.  L.  For  the  modern  vulgar  ballad, 
Catnach's  is  a  better  copy  than  that  of  Pitts.  See 
Kidson,  Traditional  Tunes,  p.  34,  for  Catnach. 


VOL.  II. 
54.  The  Cherry-Tree  Carol. 

P.  1  b.  (Apple  tree.)  Chanson  de  la  Correze, 
Melusine,  VI,  40. 

66.  The  Carnal  and  the  Crane. 
P.  7.     The  Sower  :  La  Tradition,  VII,  312. 

56.  Dives  and  Lazarus. 

P.  10  b,  IV,  462  b.  '  Lazare  et  le  mauvais  riche,' 
L'Abbd  Durdy,  Anthologie  pop.  de  I'Albret,  Podsies 
gasconnes,  p.  6. 

Esthonian,  Hurt,  Vana  Kannel,  II,  210,  No  296. 


But  lang  or  a'  the  play  was  playd 
The  weet  gade  to  their  hearts. 


62.  Fair  Annie. 

P.  65  a.  Danish.  '  Skjon  Anna,'  Kristensen,  Folke- 
minder,  XI,  91,  No  92. 

63.  Child  Waters. 

P.  83.  *  Fair  Ellen,'  from  "  The  Old  Lady's  Collec- 
tion," No  30,  a  version  resembling  J.  The  first  two 
stanzas  belong  to  *  Glasgerion; '  compare  No  67,  C,  1, 
2,  II,  140. 


1  Willie  was  a  harper  guid. 

He  was  a  harper  fine  ; 
He  harped  the  burds  out  of  the  tree, 

The  fish  out  of  the  flood, 
The  milk  out  of  a  woman's  brist 

That  bab  had  never  nean. 

2  He  harped  out,  an  he  harped  in, 

Till  he  harped  them  a'  aslep, 
Unless  it  was  her  Fair  Elen, 
An  she  stood  on  her  feett. 

3  Willie  stod  in  stabile  dor, 

He  said  he  wad  ride, 


57.  Brown  Robyn's  Confession. 

P.  13  b,  IV,  463  a,  Danish.  'Sejladsen,'  Kristen- 
sen, Efterslaet  til  Skattegraveren,  p.  22,  No  18,  p.  161 
ff.,  Nos  116,  117  ;  Folkeminder,  XI,  148,  No  57. 

15  b.  For  Sadko,  see  Vesselofsky  inArchiv  fiir  sla- 
vische  Philologie,  IX,  282. 


4  '  Na  women  mane  gae  we  me,  Hellen, 
Na  women  mane  gaie  we  me 

Bat  them  that  will  saddle  my  hors, 
An  brideU  my  steed. 

An  elky  toun  that  I  come  to 
A  lish  of  hons  mane  lead.' 


68.  Sir  Patrick  Spens. 

P.  1 7.  Among  Charles  Kirkpatrick  Sharpe's  papers 
there  is  a  copy  of  this  ballad,  which,  from  its  being  en- 
tirely in  Sharpe's  hand  excepting  the  first  line,  we  may 
suppose  to  have  been  intended  as  a  reply  to  some  per- 
son who  had  inquired  for  a  ballad  so  beginning.  This 
copy  is  mainly  compounded,  with  a  word  altered  here 
and  there,  from  D  (which  Sharpe  gave  Motherwell),  ten 
stanzas  of  H,  and  two  resembling  L  2,  3.  The  Sir 
Andrew  Wood  of  D  is  changed  to  Sir  Patrick  Spens, 
and  there  is  this  one  stanza  which  I  have  not  observed 
to  occur  elsewhere,  following  D  7,  or  H  21  : 

O  laith,  laith  war  our  gude  Scots  lords 
To  weet  their  silken  sarks, 


5  '  I  will  saddle  yer  hors,  Willie, 

An  I  wiU  bridel  yer  steed, 
An  elky  toun  att  we  come  tell 
A  leash  of  bonds  will  lead.' 

6  '  The  dogs  sail  eat  the  gued  fite  bread. 

An  ye  the  dou6  pran. 
An  ye  sail  bliss,  an  na  curse. 
That  ever  ye  lied  a  man.' 

7  *  The  dogs  sail  eat  the  whit  bread. 

An  me  the  doue  pran. 
An  I  will  bliss,  an  na  curs, 
That  ear  I  loved  a  man.' 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


221 


8  She  has  saddled  his  hors, 

An  she  has  bridled  his  stead, 
An  ealky  toun  att  they  came  throu 
A  lish  of  honds  did  lead. 

9  The  dogs  did  eatt  the  whit  bread, 

An  her  the  douey  pran, 
An  she  did  bliss,  an  she  did  na  curs, 
That  ever  she  loyed  a  man. 

10  Fan  they  came  to  yon  wan  water 

That  a'  man  caas  Clayd, 
He  louked  over  his  left  shoder. 
Says,  Ellen,  will  ye  ride  ? 

11  '  I  learned  it  in  my  medder's  hour, 

I  wiss  I  had  learned  it  better, 
Fan  I  came  to  wane  water 
To  same  as  dos  the  otter. 

12  *  I  learned  in  my  midder's  hour, 

I  watt  I  learned  it  well, 

Fan  I  came  to  wan  water. 

To  sume  as  dos  the  ell.' 


Bat  the  fairest  lady  among  them  a' 
Led  his  hors  to  the  stable. 

19  She  leaned  betuen  the  gray  folle  an  the  waa. 

An  gae  a  call  opon  ; 
*  O  my  back  is  f  ue  sore. 
An  I  sae  far  fra  home ! 

20  '  Fan  I  was  in  my  father's  hour, 

I  ware  goud  to  my  hell ; 
Bat  nou  I  am  among  WiUie's  hors  feet, 
An  the  call  it  will  me  kell. 

21  *  Fan  I  was  in  my  midder's  hour 

I  wear  goud  to  my  head  ; 
Bat  nou  I  am  among  Willie's  hors  feet. 
And  the  calle  will  be  my  dead.' 

22  *  Fatten  a  heavey  horse-boy,  my  son  Willie, 

Is  this  ye  ha  brought  to  me  ? 
Some  times  he  grous  read,  read. 

An  some  times  paill  an  wane  ; 
He  louks  just  leak  a  woman  we  bairn, 

An  no  weis  es  leak  a  man.' 


13 


Or  the  knight  was  in  the  middell  of  the  water, 
The  lady  was  in  the  eather  side. 

14  She  leaned  her  back  to  a  stane, 
Gaa  a  call  opon : 
*  O  my  back  is  right  sore. 
An  I  sae  f  arr  f  rae  hame ! 

16  *  Hou  monny  mill  ha  ye  to  rid, 

An  hou  mony  I  to  rine  ? ' 
'  Fifty  mill  ha  I  to  rid, 

Fifty  you  to  rine. 
An  by  that  time  I  dou  supos 

Ye  will  be  a  dead  woman.' 

16  Out  spak  a  bonny  burd. 

Sate  on  yon  tree, 
'  Gaa  on,  fair  Ellen, 

Ye  ha  scarcly  milles  three.* 

17  Four-an-tuenty  bony  ladys 

Mett  Willie  in  the  closs, 
Bat  the  fairest  lady  among  them  a' 
Took  Willie  frae  his  horse. 

18  Four-an-tuenty  bonny  ladys 

Lead  Willie  to  the  table, 


23  '  Gett  up,  my  heavey  hors-boy, 

Gie  my  hors  corn  an  hay  ; ' 
*  By  my  soth,'  says  her  Fair  Ellen, 
*  Bat  as  fast  as  I  may.' 

24  '  I  dreamed  a  dream  san  the  straine, 

Gued  read  a'  dreams  to  gued ! 
I  dreamed  my  stable-dor  was  opned 

An  stoun  was  my  best  steed. 
Ye  gae,  my  sister. 

An  see  if  the  dream  be  gued.' 


25 


She  thought  she  hard  a  baby  greet, 
Bat  an  a  lady  mone. 

26 

*  I  think  I  hard  a  baby  greet, 
Bat  an  a  lady  mone.' 

27  '  A  askend,  Willie,'  she  says, 

*  An  ye  man  grant  it  me ; 
The  warst  room  in  a'  yer  house 
To  your  young  son  an  me.' 

28  ['  Ask  on.  Fair  Ellen, 

Ye  'r  sure  yer  asken  is  free  ;] 


222 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


The  best  room  in  a*  my  house 
To  yer  young  son  an  ye.* 

29  '  [A]  asken,  Willie,'  she  sayes, 

'  An  ye  will  grant  it  me  ; 
The  smallest  bear  in  yer  house 
To  [yer]  young  son  an  me.' 

30  '  Ask  on,  Fair  Ellen, 

Ye  'r  sure  your  asken  is  free ; 
The  best  bear  in  my  house 
[To  yer  young  son  an  ye.] 

31  '  The  best  bear  in  my  house 

Is  the  black  bear  an  the  wine, 
An  ye  sail  haa  that.  Fair  Ellen, 
To  you  an  yer  young  son.' 

32  *  [A]  askant,  Willie,'  she  says, 

'  An  ye  will  grant  [it]  me ; 
The  warst  maid  in  yer  house 

To  wait  on  yer  young  son  an  me.' 

33  *  The  best  maid  in  my  house 

Is  my  sister  Meggie, 
An  ye  sail  ha  her.  Fair  Ellen, 
To  wait  on  yer  young  son  an  ye. 

34  'Chire  up.  Fair  Ellen, 

Chire  up,  gin  ye  may  ; 
Yer  kirking  an  yer  fair  weding 
Sail  baith  stand  in  ae  day.' 

1'.  bab  have. 

32.  bide.     Cf.  B  3,  G  1,  1 1,  J  1.     20».  I  an. 

20*.  me  gell.     21^.  my  hell  again. 

21*.  And  an.     30^^.  sure  yours. 

64.  Fair  Janet. 

P.  102.  (See  III,  497  b,  No  5.)  Add  :  '  La  Fiancde 
du  Prince,'  Kevue  des  Traditions  Populaires,  VIII, 
406-409,  two  versions. 

65.  Lady  Maisry. 

P.  114.  A.  The  variations  in  the  Abbotsford  MS. 
"  Scottish  Songs  "  are  of  the  very  slightest  value  ;  but 
as  the  MS.  is  in  Scott's  band,  and  as  Scott  says  that 
they  were  from  his  recollection  of  recitation  in  the 
south  of  Scotland,  they  may  be  given  for  what  they  are 
worth.  (See  the  note,  IV,  387.) 
*  Lady  Maiserye,'  fol.  34,  back. 

W  Are  a'.     1*.  she  '11  hae.     2,  3,  wanting. 
4*'2.  Xhey  woo'd  her  up,  they  woo'd  her  doun. 
They  woo'd  her  in  the  ha. 


6*.  my  lords,  she  said.     6*.  on  me. 

5*.  And  I  have  na  mair  to  gie. 

6^.  father's  wily  page. 

6*.  For  he  has  awa  to  her  bauld  brother. 

7^  O  are  my  father  and  mother.     1\  brethren. 

8*.  are  weel.     8^.  Likewise  your  brethren. 

8*.  But  she  's  shamed  thy  name  and  thee. 

91.  true,  thou  little  page. 

92.  A  bluidy  sight  thou  's  see.     9'.  thou  tells. 
9*.  High  hanged  sail  thou  be. 

10^  O  he  has  gane  to.     10*.  Kaming. 

11.  A  stanza  with  "  modern  "  in  the  margin, 

12^.  The  lady  turnd  her  round  about. 

122.  The  kame  fell. 

12'>*.  The  bluid  ran  backward  to  her  heart 

And  left  her  cheek  sae  wan. 
13.  *  O  bend  nae  sae,  my  dear  brother. 

Your  vengefu  look  on  me  ! 
My  love  is  laid  on  Lord  William, 

And  he  is  married  to  me.' 
14*.  ye  hae  gotten  knights  and  lords. 
142.  Within.     148.  drew.     15^.  your  English  love. 
158.  For  shouldst  think  of  him  an  hour  langer. 
15*.  Thy.     16*.  I  wad  gie  up  my  English  love. 
16^.  or  an  hour. 
After  16  this  stanza,  not  marked  "modern  : " 

'  Ah,  faithless  woman,  trow  nae  sae 

My  just  revenge  to  flee, 
For  a'  your  English  lordling's  power. 

Our  ancient  enemy.' 

1 1\  where  are  a'  my  wight.     1 7*.  this  strumpet. 

18^.  at  my.     19^.  and  spake. 

192,  Stude  weeping  by  her  side. 

19'.  wad  rin  this.     20  wanting. 

2V;  22^.  And  when.     218,  t^  grass  growing. 

22^.6.  yate.     222.  ^a^jg  ^3,  chap  nor.     22'.  to  his. 

226.  And  er.     23i.  O  are.     232.  q^  ^re. 

23*.  Or  has  my  lady  gien  to  me. 

23*.  A  dear  :  or  a. 

24^.  biggins  are  na  broken,  lord.     242.  Nor  yet. 

248.  a'  Scotlande.     24*.  This  day  for  you. 

25^  to  me  the  black  horse. 

252.  O  saddle  to  me.     25*.  Or  saddle  to  me. 

25*.  ere  yet  rode.     262.  neeze. 

268.  your  fire,  my  fierce. 

26*.  no  yet  at.     27^.  And  when  :  yate. 

28^«2.  And  stilly  Mend  up  the  fire,  she  cried. 

And  pour  its  rage  round  me. 
28*.  will  mend  it  soon  for.     29^.  O  had  my  hands. 
292.  Sae  fast.     29*.  To  save  thy  infant  son. 
301.8.  for  thee.     302.  Thy  sister  and  thy  brother. 
30*.  Thy  father  and  thy  mother.     31i.  for  thee. 
812.  a'  thy.     318.  that  I  make.     31*.  I  sail. 


115.     B.     Variations  of   C. 
("  second  collection  ")  : 


K.  Sharpe's  own  MS. 


2*.  on  my  (wrongly). 
82.  That's  what  I '11. 


4*.  It  *s  liars. 
102.  brother. 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


223 


138  But  when.     20^,  21i,  22i.  rode  on. 
22*.  Janet's  excit  (Motherwell,  exite). 
27*.  mony  one. 


241.  said. 


66.   Lord  Ingram  and  Ohiel  Wyet. 

P.  128.  A.  Collated  with  Sharpe's  MS.,  p.  17. 
The  MS.,  which  is  in  the  handwriting  of  Sharpe,  con- 
tains the  same  ballads  as  an  Abbotsford  MS.  called 
North  Country  Ballads,  but  the  two  copies  are  indepen- 
dent transcripts.  In  a  note  to  Sharpe,  without  date 
(Sharpe's  Ballad  Book,  ed.  1880,  p.  148),  Scott  says, 
"I  enclose  Irvine's  manuscripts,  which  are,  I  think, 
curious.  They  are  at  your  service  for  copying  or  pub- 
lishing, or  whatever  you  will."  Hugh  Irvine,  Drum, 
communicated  to  Scott  a  copy  of  '  Tam  Lin  '  (see  IV, 
456),  and  it  is  possible  that  the  manuscripts  referred  to 
in  Scott's  note  were  the  originals  of  the  "  North  Coun- 
try BaUads." 

1*.  their  bonneur.     8^.  to  kill.     11*.  boy  says. 

112.  An  will.     141.8.  line  that  he.     15^.  (bacon). 

16*.  she  wanting. 

182.*.  gaj-i^  marl,  are  Sharpe's  corrections  for  words 
struck  out,  which  seem  to  be  guell,  meal. 

191.  and  that.     212.  gaft.     231.  twice,  so  did  I. 

26*.  did  stand.     31*.  he  wanting. 

Only  14^.8,  16*,  23*,  31*,  are  wrongly  given  in  Mo- 
therwell. 
Scott's  MS.  —  The  name  Maisery  is  wanting  through- 
out. 

238.  only /or  one.     28  wanting.     SO',  had. 

31*.  beg  wrongly  copied  by. 

68.  Young  Hunting. 

P.  145.  A  22.  Findlay's  MSS,  1, 146,  gives  a  cor- 
responding stanza,  from  Miss  Butchart,  Arbroath  : 

'  Ye  '11  gie  ower  your  day's  doukin 

An  douk  upon  the  nicht, 
An  the  place  Young  Redin  he  lies  in 

The  torches  will  brin  bricht.' 

148.  C  21,  22.  At  the  same  place  in  Findlay's  MSS 
we  find  these  stanzas,  from  Miss  Bower  : 

The  firsten  grasp  that  she  got  0  him, 

It  was  o  his  yellow  hair ; 
O  wasna  that  a  dowie  grasp. 

For  her  that  did  him  bear  ! 

The  nexten  grasp  that  she  got  o  him, 

It  was  o  his  lillie  hand  ; 
O  was  na  that  a  dowie  grasp. 

For  her  brocht  him  to  land  ! 

69.  Clerk  Saunders. 

P.  156  b,  2d  paragraph.  Austerities.  *Mijn  haer  sel 
onghevlochten  staen,'  etc.  '  Brennenberg,'  Hoffmann, 
Niederlandische  Volkslieder,  p.  33,  No  6,  st.  1 7. 


IV,  468  a,  3d  line.  Add  :  also  four  versions  of  Karl 
Hittebarn,  No  294. 

71.  The  Bent  sae  Brown. 

P.  170.  Danish.  *  Jomfruens  Bredre,' Kristensen, 
Skattegraveren,  II,  145  ff.,  Nos  717-23  V,  81  ff.,  Nos 
632-34;  Efterslst  til  Sk.,  p.  15,  No  13,  p.  84,  No  79, 
'  Den  ulige  Kamp; '  Folkeminder,  XI,  139,  No  53,  A-C, 
p.  307,  No  53. 

73.  Lord  Thomas  and  Pair  Annet. 

P.  181,  m,  510  b,  IV,  469  a.  Add  another  version 
of  '  Le  Rossignolet,'  Rev.  des  Trad,  pop.,  VIII,  418. 

1 92.  G  as  it  stands  in  "  The  Old  Lady's  Collection," 
No  24. 

1  Suit  Willie  an  Fair  Anne, 

They  satt  on  yon  hill, 
An  fra  the  morning  till  night  this  tua 
Never  ta'ked  ther  fill. 

2  Willie  spak  a  word  in  jeast, 

An  Anny  toke  it  ill : 
*  We  's  court  ne  mare  mean  madens, 
Agenst  our  parents'  will.' 

3  '  It 's  na  agenst  our  parents'  will,' 

Fair  Annie  she  did  say; 


4  Willie  is  hame  to  his  hour, 

To  his  book  alean, 
An  Fair  Anni  is  to  her  hour, 
To  her  book  an  her  seam. 

5  Suit  Willie  is  to  his  mider  dear, 

Fell  lou  doun  on  his  knee  : 

*  A  asking,  my  mider  dear. 

An  ye  grant  it  me  ; 
O  will  I  marry  the  nut-broun  may, 
An  latt  Faire  Anny  be?  ' 

6  *  The  nut-broun  may  has  ousen,  Willie, 

The  nut-broun  may  has  kay  ; 
An  ye  will  wine  my  blissing,  Willie, 
An  latt  Fair  Anny  be.' 

7  He  did  him  to  his  father  dear, 

Fell  lou  doun  on  his  knee  : 

*  A  asken,  my  father, 

An  ye  man  grant  it  me.' 

8  '  Ask  on,  my  ae  sin  Willie, 

Ye  'r  sear  yer  asking  is  frea  ; 
Except  it  be  to  marry  her  Fair  Anny, 
An  that  ye  manna  deei.' 


224 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


9  Out  spak  his  littel  sister, 
As  she  sat  by  the  fire  ; 
The  oxe-lig  will  brak  in  the  plough, 
An  the  cou  will  droun  in  the  mire. 

10  '  An  Willie  will  hae  nathing 

Bat  the  dam  to  sitt  by  the  fire, 
An  Faire  Annie  will  sit  in  her  beagly  hour. 
An  wine  a  eearl's  hire.' 

11  '  Fair  faa  ye,  my  littel  sister, 

A  gued  dead  matt  ye  dee  ! 
An  ever  I  hae  goud, 
Well  touchered  sail  ye  be.' 

12  Hi  'se  away  to  Fair  Annie, 

As  fast  as  gang  coud  he  : 

*  O  will  ye  come  to  my  marrag? 

The  morn  it 's  to  be.' 
'  O  I  will  come  to  yer  marrag  the  morn, 
Gin  I  can  wine,'  said  she. 

13  Annie  did  her  to  her  father  d[ea]r, 

Fell  lou  doun  on  her  knee  : 

*  An  askin,  my  father, 

An  ye  mane  grant  it  me  ; 
Latt  me  to  Suit  Willie's  marrage. 
The  morn  it  is  to  be.' 

14  '  Your  hors  sail  be  siler-shod  afor. 

An  guid  read  goud  ahind. 
An  bells  in  his  main, 

To  ring  agenst  the  wind,' 

15  She  did  her  to  her  mother  dear. 

Fell  lou  on  her  knee  : 
'  Will  ye  latt  me  to  Willie's  marrage? 

To-morraa  it  is  to  be.' 
'  I  ill  latt  ye  to  Willie's  marrage, 

To-morray  it  is  to  be.' 

16  Fan  Anne  was  in  her  sadel  sett, 

She  flamd  agenst  the  fire ; 
The  girdell  about  her  sma  middell 
Wad  a  wone  a  eearl's  hire. 

1 7  Fan  they  came  to  Mary  kirk. 

An  on  to  Mary  quir, 
'  O  far  gat  ye  that  water,  Anne, 

That  washes  ye  sae  clean  ?  ' 
'  I  gat  it  in  my  fa(t)hers  garden, 

Aneth  a  marbell  stane.* 

18  '  O  fare  gatt  ye  that  water,  Anne, 

That  washes  ye  sae  fett?  ' 

'  I  gat  it  in  my  mider's  womb, 

Far  ye  never  gat  the  leak. 

19  *  For  ye  ha  ben  cirsned  we  mose- water, 

An  roked  in  the  reak, 


An  sin-brunt  in  yer  midder's  womb, 
For  I  think  ye  *11  never  be  faitt.* 

20  The  broun  bride  pat  her  hand  in 

Att  Anne's  left  gare, 

An  gen  her 

A  deap  wound  an  a  sare. 

21  O  Anne  gid  on  her  hors  back, 

An  fast  away  did  ride, 
Batt  lang  or  kok's  crawang 
Fair  Anne  was  dead. 

22  Fan  bells  was  rung,  an  messe  was  sung. 

An  a'  man  boun  to  bed. 
Suit  Willie  an  the  nut-broun  bride 
In  a  chamber  was  lead. 

23  But  up  an  wakned  him  Suit  Willie, 

Out  of  his  dreary  dream  : 
'  I  dreamed  a  dream  this  night, 
Grod  read  a'  dreams  to  gued ! 

24  *  That  Fair  Anne's  hour  was  full  of  gentelmen, 

An  her  nen  sellf  was  dead ; 
Bat  I  will  on  to  Fair  Annie, 
An  see  if  it  be  gued.' 

25  Seven  lang  mille  or  he  came  near, 

He  hard  a  dulfull  chear, 
Her  father  an  her  seven  bretheren 

Making  to  her  a  bear. 
The  half  of  it  guid  read  goud, 

The  eather  silver  clear. 

26  *  Ye  berl  att  my  love's  leak 

The  whit  bread  an  the  wine, 
Bat  or  the  morn  att  this  time 
Ye  's  de  the  leak  att  mine.' 

27  The  tean  was  beared  att  Mary  kirk, 

The  eather  att  Mary  quir  ; 
Out  of  the  an  grue  a  birk. 
Out  of  the  eather  a  brear. 

28  An  ay  the  langer  att  they  grue 

They  came  the  eather  near. 
An  by  that  ye  might  a  well  kent 
They  war  tua  lovers  dear. 

4'.  There  may  have  been  a  word  between  book  and 

alean. 
5«.  bay  :  c/.  6*.    16^.  flamd  is  doubtful.    21*.  farie. 
238.  might. 


74.  Pair  Margaret  and  Sweet  William. 

P.  199.     The  Roxburghe  copy,  HI,  338,  Ebsworth, 
VI,  640,  is  a  late  one,  of  Aldermary  Church- Yard. 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


225 


200  b.  A  c  is  translated  by  Prohle,  G.  A.  Biirger, 
Sein  Leben  u.  seine  Dichtungen,  p.  109. 

76.  Lord  Lovel. 

P.  204  f,  note  f,  512  b,  IV  471  a.  Add  *  Der  Graf 
und  das  Madchen,'  Bockel,  Deutsche  V.-l.  aus  Ober- 
hessen,  p.  5,  No  6  ;  ♦  Es  schlief  ein  Graf  bei  seiner 
Magd,'  Lewalter,  Deutsche  V.-l.  in  Niederhessen  ge- 
sammelt,  2'  Heft,  p.  3,  No  2  :  '  Der  Graf  und  sein  Lieb- 
chen,'  Frischbier  u.  Sembrzycki,  Hundert  Ostpreus- 
sische  Volkslieder,  p.  34,  No  21. 

205  a,  note,  III,  510  b,  IV,  471  b.  Scandinavian, 
Other  copies  of  '  Lille  Lise,'  *  Greven  og  lille  Lise,' 
Kristensen,  Efterslaet  til  Skattegraveren,  p.  18,  No  15, 
Folkeminder,  XI,  159,  No  62,  A-D. 

205.  *  Den  elskedes  Ded,'  Berggreen,  Danske  Folke- 
sange,  3d  ed.,  p.  162,  No  80  b  ;  Svenske  Fs.,  2d  ed., 
p.  84,  No  66  b. 

The  ballad  exists  in  Esthonian  :  Kaarle  Klrohn,  Die 
geographische  Verbreitung  estnischer  Lieder,  p.  23. 

76.  The  Lass  of  Roch  Royal. 

P.  213.  B  was  received  by  Herd,  with  several  other 
ballads,  "by  post,  from  a  lady  in  Ayrshire  (?),  name 
unknown  :  "  Herd's  MSS,  I,  143. 

215  b,  2d  paragraph,  tokens.  Add  :  Zuypa(j)do(  'Aytiv, 
p.  90,  No  67,  p.  91,  No  69,  p.  95,  No  81. 

ITie  lady  demands  love-tokens  of  Clerk  Saunders' 
ghost.  No  69,  G,  33,  II,  166. 

219.  C  occurs  in  C.  K.  Sharpe's  small  MS.  volume 
"  Songs,"  p.  40,  and  must  have  been  communicated  to 
Sharpe  by  Pitcairn.     Collation  : 

2.  It 's  open,  etc.  :  not  written  in  full. 

3',  48.  Ruchley  hill.     5'.  give  me. 

6.  Do  not  you  mind,  etc. :  not  toritten  in  full. 

7  wanting.     8^.  turned  round. 

101.  It's  awa.     108.  have  got  the.     131.  that  he. 

14^.  Let  down,  let  down.     14'.  late  wanting. 

15'.  morrow.     15*.  of  mine.     16,  11,  wanting. 

11.  Sweet  William's  Ghost. 

P.  228,  note  f-  Add  :  Zingerle,  in  Zeitschrift  fiir 
Volkskunde,  II,  147. 

229.  C  is  translated  by  Prohle,  G.  A.  Burger,  Sein 
Leben  u.  seine  Dichtungen,  p.  106. 


78.  The  Unquiet  Grave. 

P.  236  b,  last  paragraph.     See  the  preface  to  *  The 

Suffolk  Miracle  '  in  this  volume,  p.  58  £f. 

This  "  fragment,"  in  a  small  MS.  volume  entirely  in 
C.  K.  Sharpe's  handwriting  ("Songs"),  p.  21,  "from 
the  recitation  of  Miss  Oliphant  of  Gask,  now  Mrs 
Nairn  "  (later  Lady  Nairne),  evidently  belongs  here. 

VOL.  V.  29 


O  wet  and  weary  is  the  night. 
And  evendown  pours  the  rain,  O, 

And  he  that  was  sae  true  to  me 

Lies  in  the  greenwood  slain,  O.    P.  21. 

80.  Old  Robin  of  Portingale. 

P.  240.  '  Sleep  you,  wake  you.'  So, '  Soldatenlohn,' 
Zeitschrift  fiir  Volkskunde,  II,  426,  sts.  6,  7  ;  Hruschka 
u.  Toischer,  Deutsche  Volkslieder  aus  Bohmen,  p.  183, 
No  147  a,  46,  b  35,  p.  195,  No  171,  2\  No  172,  4. 

240,  513  a.  III,  514,  IV,  476.  Two  religious  persons 
from  India  display  to  the  Pope  a  cross  burned  on  the 
breast  in  token  of  Christian  faith,  and  also  a  baptismal 
mark  on  the  right  ear,  "  non  flumine  sed  flamine:" 
Chronicon  Adae  de  Usk  ad  ann.  1404,  ed.  E.  M. 
Thompson,  p.  90.  See  also  the  reference  to  York's 
Marco  Polo,  1875,  II,  421,  in  Mr  Thompson's  note, 
p.  219.     (G.  L.  K.) 

81.  Little  Musgrave  and  Lady  Barnard. 

P.  242.  '  Little  Musgrave '  is  entered  to  Francis 
Coules  in  the  Stationers'  Registers,  24  June,  1630: 
Arber,  IV,  236. 


85.  Lady  Alice. 


P.  279. 


Miss  M.  H.  Mason's  Nursery  Rhymes  and  Country  Songs, 
p.  46,  •  Giles  Collin.' 

1  Giles  Collin  he  said  to  his  mother  one  day, 

Oh,  mother,  come  bind  up  my  head ! 
For  tomorrow  morning  before  it  is  day 
I  'm  sure  I  shall  be  dead. 

2  *  Oh,  mother,  oh,  mother,  if  I  should  die, 

And  I  am  sure  I  shall, 
I  will  not  be  buried  in  our  churchyard. 
But  under  Lady  Alice's  wall.' 

3  His  mother  she  made  him  some  water-gruel. 

And  stirred  it  up  with  a  spoon  ; 
Giles  Collin  he  ate  but  one  spoonful, 
And  died  before  it  was  noon. 

4  Lady  Alice  was  sitting  in  her  window, 

AJl  dressed  in  her  night-coif ; 
She  saw  as  pretty  a  corpse  go  by 
As  ever  she  'd  seen  in  her  life. 

5  '  What  bear  ye  there,  ye  six  tall  men  ? 

What  bear  ye  on  your  shourn  ?  ' 


226 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


*  We  bear  the  body  of  Giles  Collin, 
Who  was  a  true  lover  of  yourn.' 

6  *Down  with  him,  down  with  him,  upon  the 

grass, 
The  grass  that  grows  so  green ; 
For  tomorrow  morning  before  it  is  day 
My  body  shall  lie  by  him.' 

7  Her  mother  she  made  her  some  plum-gruel, 

With  spices  all  of  the  best ; 
Lady  Alice  she  ate  but  one  spoonful, 
And  the  doctor  he  ate  up  the  rest. 

8  Giles  Collin  was  laid  in  the  lower  chancel. 

Lady  Alice  all  in  the  higher ; 
There  grew  up  a  rose  from  Lady  Alice's  breast, 
And  from  Giles  Collin's  a  briar. 

9  And  they  grew,  and  they  grew,  to  the  very 

church-top, 
Until  they  could  grow  no  higher. 
And  twisted  and  twined  in  a  true-lover's  knot, 
Which  made  all  the  parish  admire. 

90.  Jellon  Qrame. 

P.  303  b,  513  b,  III,  515  b,  IV,  479  b.  Precocious 
growth. 

The  French  romance  of  Alexander.  Alberic  de 
Besan9on  :  Alexander  had  more  strength  when  three 
days  old  than  other  children  of  four  months;  he  walked 
and  ran  better  from  his  first  year  than  any  other  child 
from  its  seventh.  (The  same,  nearly,  in  Lamprecht,  vv. 
142-4  :  he  throve  better  in  three  days  than  any  other 
child  of  three  months;  178-80,  in  his  first  year  his 
strength  and  body  waxed  more  than  another's  in  three.) 
MS.  de  1' Arsenal :  the  child  grew  in  vitality  and  know- 
ledge more  in  seven  years  than  others  do  in  a  hundred. 
MS.  de  Venise  :  he  grew  more  in  body  and  knowledge 
in  eight  years  than  others  in  a  hundred.  P.  Meyer, 
Alexandre  le  Grand,  I,  5,  v,  56  f.,  6,  v.  74  f.,  27,  v.  39 
f.,  240,  V.  53  f.  ' Plus  sot  en  x  jors  que  i.  autres  en  c: ' 
Michelant,  p.  8,  v.  20.  A  similar  precocity  is  recorded 
of  the  Chinese  Emperor  Schimong:  Giitzlaff,  Geschichte 
der  Chinesen,  hrsgg.  v.  Neumann,  S.  19,  cited  by  Weis- 
mann,  Lamprecht's  Alexander,  I,  432. 

In  the  romance  of  Melusine  it  is  related  how,  after 
her  disappearance  in  serpent-form,  she  was  seen  by  the 
nurses  to  return  at  night  and  care  for  her  two  infant 
sons,  who,  according  to  the  earliest  version,  the  prose 
of  Jehan  d' Arras,  grew  more  in  a  week  than  other  chil- 
dren in  a  month:  ed.  Brunet,  1854,  p.  361.  The  same 
in  the  French  romance,  1.  4347  f.,  the  English  metrical 
version,  1.  4035-37,  and  in  the  German  Volksbuch. 
(H.  L.  Eoopman.) 


Tom  Hickathrift  "  was  in  length,  when  he  was  but 
ten  years  of  age,  about  eight  foot,  and  in  thickness  five 
foot,  and  his  hand  was  like  unto  a  shoulder  of  mutton, 
and  in  all  parts  from  top  to  toe  he  was  like  a  monster." 
The  History  of  Thomas  Hickathrift,  ed.  by  G.  L. 
Gomme,  Villon  Society,  1885,  p.  2.     (G.  L.  K.) 

305.  B.  The  following,  a  variety  of  B,  is  from  the 
papers  of  Charles  Kirkpatrick  Sharpe,  "  second  collec- 
tion," p.  6. 

1  Word  has  come  to  May  Young  Ro, 

In  her  bower  where  she  sat, 
'  You  'r  bidden  come  to  good  green  wood 
And  sew  your  love  a  shirt.* 

2  *  I  wonder  much,'  said  May  Young  Roe, 

'  Such  word  is  come  to  me ; 
Ther  's  not  a  month  throwout  this  year 
But  I  have  sewed  him  three.' 

3  Then  out  it  spake  her  mother, 

And  a  wise  word  spoke  she  ; 
Said,  Stay  at  home,  my  daughter, 
They  want  to  murder  thee. 

4  *  I  will  cast  off  my  gloves,  mother. 

And  hing  them  on  a  pin  ; 
If  I  come  never  back  again, 

You  '1  mind  on  your  daugh[t]er  young. 

5  '  Come  here,  my  boy,'  she  cried, 

'  And  bring  my  horse  to  me, 
That  I  may  ride  to  good  green  wood, 
The  flowers  in  it  to  see.' 

6  When  she  was  got  to  good  green  wood. 

No  further  did  she  ride 
Till  up  did  start  him  Hind  Henry, 
Just  at  the  ladie's  side. 

7  '  O  stop,  O  stop  there,  May,'  he  cried, 

•  O  stop,  I  say  to  thee  ; 
The  boy  who  holds  your  bridle-reins 
Shall  see  your  body  wea.' 

8  Then  out  he  drew  a  large  long  brand, 

And  struck  it  ower  a  str[ow]. 
And  throw  and  throw  that  ladie's  side 
He  made  the  cold  steel  go. 

9  Said,  Take  you  that  now.  May  Young  Roe, 

Just  take  you  that  from  me, 
Because  you  loved  Brown  Robin, 
And  never  would  love  me. 

10  The  boy  was  in  a  dreadful  fright, 
And  in  great  haste  rode  home. 
Lamenting  sadly  all  the  way. 
And  made  a  piteous  moan. 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


227 


11  And  when  her  mother  heard  his  tale 

She  took  the  bed  of  care  ; 
Her  sister  ran  to  good  green  wood, 
A  tearing  of  her  hair. 

12  There  was  small  pity  for  that  lady, 

Where  she  was  lying  dead, 
Compared  with  for  the  pretty  babe, 
Weltring  among  the  blood. 

13*1  will  take  up  this  babe,'  she  said,   ~ 
'  And  lull  him  on  my  sleeve  ; 
Altho  his  father  should  wish  me  woe, 
His  mother  was  to  me  live.* 

14  Now  she  has  taken  the  boy  up, 

And  she  has  brought  him  hame, 
And  she  has  called  him  Brown  Robin, 
It  was  his  father's  name. 

15  And  she  has  nursed  him  carefuly, 

And  put  him  to  the  school. 
And  any  who  affronted  him 
He  soon  did  make  cry  dule. 

16  And  it  fell  ance  upon  a  time 

It  was  a  haly  day, 
And  all  the  boys  at  that  school 
On  it  they  got  the  play. 

17  He  hied  him  unto  good  green  wood, 

And  leap  from  tree  to  tree, 
And  there  did  pull  some  hollin  wands, 
To  play  his  own  self  we. 

18  And  aft  he  looked  on  a  spot. 

And  at  it  marvelled  sair, 
That  all  the  wood  was  clad  with  leaves. 
And  that  one  spot  was  bare. 

19  And  he  said  unto  Hind  Henry, 

'  I  wonder  very  sair 
That  all  the  wood  is  clad  with  leaves, 
And  this  one  spot  is  bare.' 

20  '  You  need  not  wonder,  boy,'  he  said, 

'  You  need  not  wonder  none. 
For  it  is  just  the  very  spot 
I  killed  your  mother  on.' 

21  The  boy  's  pulled  out  his  daggar  then, 

And  struck  it  ower  a  strow, 
And  even  to  Hind  Henry's  heart 
He  made  the  cold  steel  go. 

22  Says,  Take  you  that,  you  vile  Henry, 

Just  take  you  that  from  me, 
For  killing  of  my  mother  dear. 
And  she  not  harming  thee. 


91.   Pair  Maxy  of  Wallington. 

P.  314,  IV,  480  a.  D.  lO^  in  Kinloch  MSS,  V,  363, 
reads,  I  hear  this  babe  now  from  her  side  ;  but  in  Mr 
Macmath's  transcript  of  Burton's  MS.,  No  2,  I  bear 
.  .  .  my  side. 

316.  '  The  Lady  of  Livenston,'  from  "  The  Old 
Lady's  Collection,"  No  32. 


G 


1  '  We  was  sisters,  we  was  seven. 

Five  of  us  dayed  we  child, 
An  you  an  me,  Burd  Ellen, 
Sail  live  maidens  mild.' 

2  Ther  came  leards,  an  ther  came  lords, 

An  knights  of  high  degree, 
A'  courting  Lady  Messry, 
Bat  it  widne  deei. 

3  Bat  the  bonny  lord  of  Livenston, 

He  was  flour  of  them  a', 

The  bonny  lord  of  Livenston, 

He  stole  the  lady  awaa. 

4  Broad  was  the  horses  hoves 

That  dumped  the  water  of  Glide, 
An  a'  was  for  honor  of  that  gay  lady 
That  day  she  was  Livenston's  bride. 

5  Fan  she  came  to  Livenston 

Mukell  mirth  was  ther  ; 
The  knights  knaked  ther  whit  fingers 
The  ladys  curled  ther  hear. 

6  She  had  no  ben  in  Livenston 

A  tuall-month  an  a  day. 
Till  she  was  as  big  we  bearn 
As  a  lady  coud  gaa. 

7  She  had  ne  ben  in  Livenston 

A  tuall-month  an  a  hour, 
Till  for  the  morning  of  the  may 

The  couldne  ane  come  near  her  hour. 

8  '  Far  will  I  gett  a  bonny  boy 

That  will  rean  my  earend  shoun, 
That  will  goo  to  leve  London, 
To  my  mother,  the  quin  ? ' 

9  '  Hear  am  I,  a  bonny  boy 

Will  rin  yer  earend  sune. 


228 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


That  will  rin  on  to  fair  London, 
To  yer  mother,  the  quin.' 

10  '  Hear  is  the  bruch  f  ra  my  breast-hane, 

The  garlands  f ra  my  hear ; 
Ye  ge  that  to  my  mider, 

Fra  me  she  '11  never  gett  mare. 

11  '  Hear  is  the  rosses  fra  my  shoun. 

The  ribbons  fra  my  hear  ; 
Ye  gee  that  to  my  mider, 

Fra  me  she  '11  never  gett  mare. 

12  '  Hear  is  my  briddel-stand, 

It  is  a'  goud  to  the  beam  ; 
Ye  gie  that  to  Burd  Ellen, 
Forbed  her  to  marry  men. 

13  '  Ye  bid  them  and  ye  pray  them  bath. 

If  they  will  dou  it  for  my  sake, 
If  they  be  not  att  my  death, 
To  be  att  my  leak-wake. 

14  '  Ye  bid  them  and  ye  pray  them  baith, 

If  they  will  dou  it  for  my  name, 
If  they  be  not  att  my  leak-wake, 
To  be  att  my  birrien.' 

15  Fan  he  came  to  grass  grouen, 

He  strated  his  bou  an  rane, 

An  fan  he  came  to  brigs  broken 

He  slaked  his  bou  an  swam. 

16  An  fan  he  came  to  yon  castell, 

He  bad  nether  to  chap  nor  caa, 
But  sait  his  bent  bou  to  his  breast 

An  lightly  lap  the  waa  ; 
Or  the  porter  was  att  the  gate. 

The  boy  was  in  the  haa. 

17  '  Mukell  meatt  is  on  yer  table,  lady. 

An  littil  of  it  is  eaten, 
Bat  the  bonny  lady  of  Livenston 
Ye  have  her  clean  forgotten.' 

18  '  Ye  lie,  ye  lie,  ye  bonny  boy, 

Sae  loud  as  I  hear  ye  lie ; 
Mukell  ha  I  sold  the  [meatt], 

An  littel  hae  I  bought, 
Batt  the  bonny  lady  of  Livenston 

Gaas  never  out  of  my  thought. 

19  '  Mukell  have  I  bought,  bonny  boy, 

An  littel  haa  I  sale. 


Bat  the  bonny  lady  of  Livenston 
She  couls  my  heart  f  ue  cale.' 

20  *  Hear  is  the  ribbings  fra  her  hear, 

The  roses  fra  her  shoun ; 
I  was  bidden  gie  that  to  her  midder, 
To  her  midder,  the  quin. 

21  '  Hear  is  the  bruch  fra  her  breast-bean. 

The  garlands  frae  her  hear ; 
I  was  bidden  gee  that  to  her  mother, 
Fra  her  she  '11  never  gett  mare. 

22  '  Hear  is  her  bridell-stand, 

The'  r  a'  goud  to  the  beam ; 
I  was  bidden  ga  that  to  Burd  Ellen, 
Forbid  her  to  marry  man. 

23  '  She  bids  ye  an  she  prays  ye  bath. 

Gin  yee  '11  di  et  for  her  sake, 
If  ye  be  not  att  her  death. 
To  be  att  her  leak-wake. 

24  '  She  bidds  yee  an  she  prays  ye  bath, 

Gine  ye  '11  dou  et  for  her  name. 
If  ye  be  not  att  her  leak-wake. 
To  be  at  her  burrien.' 

25  '  Garr  saddell  to  me  the  blak, 

Saddle  to  me  the  broun. 
Gar  saddel  to  me  the  suiftest  stead 

That  ever  read  fraa  a  toun. 
Till  I  gaa  to  Livenston 

An  see  hou  Measry  fairs.' 

26  The  first  stead  was  saddled  to  her, 

It  was  the  bonny  black ; 
She  spured  him  aftt  and  she  spared  him  na, 
An  she  tayened  him  at  a  slap. 

27  The  neast  stead  that  was  saddled  to  her 

Was  the  berrey-broun ; 
She  spured  him  aftt  an  she  spared  him  not. 
An  she  tayned  him  att  a  toun. 

28  The  neast  an  steed  that  was  saddled  to  herj 

It  was  the  milk-white  : 
'  Fair  faa  the  mear  that  foiled  the  foil 
Had  me  to  Meassry's  leak !  * 

29  Fan  she  came  to  Livenston, 

Mukel  dolle  was  ther ; 
The  knights  wrang  ther  whit  fingers, 
The  ladys  tore  ther  hear. 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


229 


30  The  knights  they  wrang  ther  whit  fingers, 

The  rings  they  flue  in  four : 
'  Latt  haas  an  tours  an  a'  doun  fau ! 
My  dear  thing  has  gine  it  our.' 

31  Out  spak  him  Livenston, 

An  a  sorry  man  was  he ; 
'  I  had  rader  lost  the  lands  of  Livenston, 
Afor  my  gay  lady.' 

32  *  Had  yer  toung  nou,  Livenston, 

An  latt  yer  folly  be ; 
I  bare  the  burd  in  my  bosom, 
I  man  thole  to  see  her  diee.' 

33  Fan  she  came  to  her  doughter's  boure, 

Ther  was  littel  pride  ; 
The  scoups  was  in  her  doughter's  mouth. 
An  the  sharp  shirrs  in  her  side. 

34  Out  spake  her  Burd  Ellen, 

An  she  spake  ay  threu  pride ; 
The  wife  sail  never  bear  the  sin 
Sail  lay  doun  by  my  side. 

35  '  Had  your  toung  nou,  Burd  Ellen, 

Ye  latt  yer  folly  a  be  ; 
Dinne  ye  mind  that  ye  promised  yer  love 
To  him  that  is  ayond  the  seaa  ?  ' 

36  *  Hold  yer  toung,  my  mother, 

Ye  speak  just  leak  a  f  ooU ; 
Tho  I  wer  marred  att  Martimes, 
I  wad  be  dead  or  Yeull.' 

37  *  I  have  five  bonny  oyes  att  heam, 

Ther  was  never  ane  of  them  born. 
Bat  every  ane  of  them 

Out  of  ther  midder's  sides  shorn.' 

5^  The  knights  knaked  ther  whit  fiingers  is 
certainly  an  anticipation.  This  is  always 
done  for  anguish  :  see  29''*,  30^''. 

7*'*.  Till  ther  couldne  ane  come  near  her  hour 
For  the  morning  of  they  may.  Per- 
haps moaning. 

16«.  he  had. 

18*.  Perhups  the  meat. 

19^^*.  sale,  cale  {for  sold,  cold). 

222.  hgan.     22».  bidden  ga. 

35«.  Didde. 


92.  Bonny  Bee  Horn. 

P.  31 7.  '  The  Lowlands  of  Holland.'  In  '  The  Sor- 
rowful Lover's  Regrate,  or,  The  Low-Lands  of  Hol- 
land,' British  Museum  1346.  m.  7(40),  dated  May  the 
5th,  1776,  a  threnody  in  eleven  double  stanzas.  1,  2 
of  the  copy  in  Johnson's  Museum  are  1,2;  Johnson, 
3=1  7,  4=4,  5=6,  6  =  3,  and  the  stanza  added  by 
Stenhouse  is  9  (with  verbal  divergences).  '  The  Maid's 
Lamentation  for  the  loss  of  her  true  love,'  Museum 
11621.  c.  3(39),  "Newcastle,  1768  ?,"  the  fifth  piece 
in  The  Complaining  Lover's  Garland,  has  five  stanzas  : 
1  corresponding  to  2  of  Johnson,  2  to  5,  5  to  6,  3  to  5 
of  the  Regrate,  and  4  to  9,  with  considerable  differ- 
ences. *  The  Seaman's  Sorrowful  Bride,'  Roxburghe, 
IV,  73,  Ebsworth,  VI,  444,  begins  with  two  stanzas 
which  resemble  Johnson,  2,  1.  This  last  was  printed 
for  J.  Deacon,  in  Guilt-spur-street,  and  the  date,  ac- 
cording to  Chappell,  would  be  1684-95. 
« 

93.  Lamkin. 

P.  331, 1,  as  it  stands  in  "  The  Old  Lady's  Collec- 
tion," No  15. 

1  Lamken  was  as  gued  a  masson 

as  ever  did  hue  ston ; 
He  bigged  Lord  Weary's  house, 
an  pament  never  got  non. 

2  It  fell  ance  on  a  day 

Lord  Weary  went  from  home. 
An  Lamkin  came  to  the  fause  nirice, 


3  '  O  still  my  bairn,  nirice, 

still  him  we  the  kniS  : ' 

*  He  winne  still,  lady, 

tho  I  sud  lay  doun  my  life.' 

4  *  O  still  my  bairn,  nirice, 

still  him  we  the  bell  : '  * 

*  He  winne  still,  lady, 

till  ye  come  doun  yersell.' 

5  The  first  step  she  came  on, 

it  was  the  stane  ; 
The  nest  step 

she  mett  him  Lamkin. 

6  *0  spare  my  Ufe,  Lamkin, 

an  I  ell  gee  ye  a  peak  of  goud  well  laid  on  ; 
An  that  dinne  pleas  ye, 
I  ell  heap  it  we  my  hand.' 


230 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


7  '  O  will  I  kUl  the  lady,  nirice, 

or  will  I  lat  her  gang  ? ' 
*  O  kill  her,  Lanken, 
she  was  never  gued  to  me.' 

8  *  O  wanted  ye  yer  meatt,  nirice  ? 

or  wanted  ye  yer  fiee  ? 
Or  wanted  ye  the  other  bountys 
lady's  are  wont  to  gee  ?  * 


'  Kill  her,  Lanken, 
she  was  never  gued  to  me.' 

10  'Ye  wash  a  bason,  nirice, 

an  ye  wash  it  clean. 
To  cape  this  lady's  blode  ; 
she  is  come  of  high  kine.' 

11  'I  winne  wash  a  bason, 

nor  wash  it  clean, 
To  cap  this  lady's  blod, 
tho  she  be  come  of  high  kine.' 

12  Bonny  sang  yon  burd 

as  he  satt  on  the  tree, 
Bat  sare  grat  Lamkin 
fan  he  was  hanged  hie. 

13  Bonny  sang  the  burd 

that  satt  on  the  hill, 
Bat  sare  grat  the  nirice 
fan  the  caldron  began  to  boill. 

14  Lankin  was  hanged, 

high. 

An  the  fans  nirice 
was  burnt  in  the  cadrou  was  she. 


339  ff.,  513,  IV,  480. 


'Lammikin,'  Findlay's  MSS,  1, 173,  "from  J.  Milne,  who 
wrote  it  down  from  recitation  by  John  Duncan." 


1  Lie  in  your  room,  my  wife, 


2  '  You  '11  fasten  doors  and  windows, 
you  '11  fasten  them  out  an  in, 
For  if  you  leave  ae  window  open 
Lammikin  wiU  come  in.' 


3  They  've  fastened  doors  an  windows, 

they  've  fastened  them  out  an  in, 
But  they  have  left  ae  window  open, 
an  Lammikin  cam  in. 

4  '  O  where  are  a'  the  women 

that  dwell  here  within  ? ' 
'  They  're  at  the  well  washin, 
and  they  will  not  come  in.* 

6  '  O  where  are  a'  the  men 

that  dwell  here  within  ? ' 
'  They 're  at  the  .     .     .     .     , 
and  they  will  not  come  in.' 

6  '  O  where  is  the  lady 

that  dwells  here  within  ?  * 

*  She  's  up  the  stair  dressin, 

an  she  will  not  come  doun.' 

7  *  It 's  what  will  we  do 

to  mak  her  come  doun  ? 
We  '11  rock  the  cradle,  nourrice, 
an  mak  her  come  doun.' 

8  They  [hae]  rocked  the  cradle 

to  mak  her  come  doun, 

the  red  bluid  out  sprung. 

9  '  O  still  the  bairn,  nourrice, 

O  still  him  wi  the  bell :  * 

*  He  winna  still,  my  lady, 

till  ye  come  doun  yersel.' 

10  The  first  step  she  steppit, 

it  was  upon  a  stane  ; 

The  next  step  she  steppit, 

she  keppit  Lammikin. 

11  '  O  mercy,  mercy,  Lammikin, 

hae  mercy  upo  me ! 
Tho  ye  hae  killed  my  young  son, 
ye  may  lat  mysel  abee.' 

12  '  O  it 's  will  I  kill  her,  nourrice, 

or  wiU  I  lat  her  be  ?  ' 
'  O  kill  her,  kill  her,  Lammikin, 
she  neer  was  gude  to  me.' 

13  '  O  it 's  wanted  ye  your  meat  ? 

or  wanted  ye  your  fee  ? ' 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


231 


14  '  I  wanted  not  my  meat, 
I  wanted  not  my  fee, 
But  I  wanted  some  bounties 
that  ladies  can  gie.' 

96.     The  Maid  freed  from  the  Gallows. 

P.  346,  III,  516  a,  IV,  481  b.  Italian.  Maria  Carmi, 
Canti  pop.  Emiliani,  Archivio,  XII,  189.  Brunetina, 
after  she  has  been  rescued  by  her  lover,  is  informed, 
while  she  is  dancing  at  a  ball,  that  her  mother  is  dead. 
Bury  her,  she  replies,  I  will  dress  in  complete  red,  and 
she  goes  on  dancing.  So  of  her  father.  But  when 
told  that  her  lover  is  dead,  she  says  she  will  dress  in 
complete  black,  and  bids  the  music  stop,  for  she  wishes 
to  dance  no  more.  *  La  Ballerina,'  Nigra,  No  107, 
p.  469,  is  no  doubt  the  last  half  of  this  ballad  corrupted 
at  the  conclusion.  The  woman  will  not  stop  dancing 
for  the  reported  death  of  father,  mother,  brother,  sister, 
husband,  but  when  told  that  her  boy  is  dead  asks  the 
players  to  cease,  her  legs  are  broken,  she  can  dance  no 
more. 

In  '  Leggenda  Marinesca'  (di  Catanzaro),  La  Cala- 
bria, October,  1893,  VI,  16,  a  wife  (or  perhaps  an  affi- 
anced young  woman)  is  ransomed  from  pirates  by  her 
husband  (or  betrothed),  after  father,  mother,  and  bro- 
ther have  refused.  If  her  father,  mother,  brother, 
should  die,  she  would  deck  her  hair,  dress  in  red,  yel- 
low, or  white,  bid  the  guitar  strike  up,  and  dance  ;  but 
if  her  true-love  died,  she  would  put  on  black,  cut  her 
hair,  and  throw  the  guitar  into  the  sea. 

349.  Mr  Kaarle  Krohn,  of  the  University  of  Hel- 
singfors,  has  favored  me  with  the  following  study  of  the 
very  numerous  Finnish  and  Esthonian  versions  of  this 
ballad,  incorporating  therein  the  researches  of  his  father, 
Julius  Krohn,  already  referred  to  at  IV,  482  a.  (Est- 
lander's  discussion,  which  I  had  not  seen,  "  S&ngen  om 
den  frikopta,"  occupies  pp.  331-356  of  the  tenth  vol- 
ume of  Finsk  Tidskrift.) 

I.  The  West  Finnish  versions,  dispersed  over  West 
and  East  Finland  and  Ingria.  These  are  in  the  modem 
metre,  which  came  into  use  hardly  before  the  end  of 
the  seventeenth  century,  and  it  is  in  the  highest  degree 
probable  that  they  were  learned  from  the  Swedes.  About 
thirty  copies  known.  Specimen,  Reinholm's  collection, 
H  12,  No  76,  from  the  Nystad  district  northward  from 
Abo,  in  Southwest  Finland  ;  J.  K.,  p.  11*. 

Prevailing  traits  :  1.  The  maid  is  sitting  in  a  little 
room,  less  frequently  in  a  ship's  cabin  or  a  boat.  2.  The 
father  has  three  horses.  3.  The  mother  has  three  cows. 
4.  The  brother  has  three  swords.  5.  The  sister  has 
three  crowns,  or,  in  copies  from  further  east,  where 
crowns  are  not  used  for  head-gear,  three  silk  kerchiefs. 
6.  The  lover  has  three  ships,  or  almost  as  often  three 
castles  (mansions).      There  are  variations,  but  rarely, 

*  This  reference  is  to  the  article  by  Julius  Krohn  men- 
tioned at  IV,  482  a. 


as  to  the  objects  possessed,  and  sometimes  exchanges, 
but  only  two  cases  are  of  importance.  In  one  copy  from 
the  extreme  of  Southeast  Finland,  the  father  has  three 
oxen,  which  seems  to  be  the  original  disposition,  the 
change  to  horses  coming  about  from  the  circumstance 
that  oxen  are  seldom  employed  for  ploughing  in  Fin- 
land. In  four  copies  from  the  most  eastern  part  of 
Finland  the  sister  has  three  sheep,  perhaps  owing  to 
the  influence  of  the  East  Finnish  versions.  7.  The 
imprecations  and  benedictions  at  the  end  occur  regu- 
larly. May  the  horses  be  knocked  up  or  die  at  plough- 
ing-time ;  may  the  cows  die,  dry  up,  etc.,  at  milking- 
time ;  the  swords  shiver  in  war-time ;  the  crowns  fall  off 
or  melt  at  wedding  or  dance  (the  silk  kerchiefs  tear, 
fade,  spoil  with  wet)  ;  and  on  the  other  hand,  may  the 
ships  sail  well,  do  well,  make  money  at  trading-time; 
the  castles  rise,  floiu'ish  in  time  of  destitution,  of  bad 
crops.    Etc. 

II.  The  later  Esthonian  versions,  Esthonia  and  Livo- 
nia, in  modern  metre,  of  more  recent  origin,  probably, 
than  in  Finland.  About  twenty  copies  known.  Speci- 
men, J.  Hurt,  Vana  Kannel,  II,  365,  No  367,  Lilla  is 
sitting  in  the  little  room  in  weary  expectation.  She 
sees  her  father  walking  on  the  sea-beach.  '  Dear  fa- 
ther, beloved  father,  ransom  me  ! '  *  Wherewith  ran- 
som you,  when  I  have  no  money  ? '  '  You  have  three 
horses  at  home,  and  can  pawn  one.'  '  I  can  do  better 
without  my  Lilla  than  without  my  three  horses  ;  the 
horses  are  mine  for  all  my  life,  Lilla  for  a  short  time.' 
In  like  fashion,  the  mother  is  not  willing  to  sacrifice 
one  of  her  three  cows,  the  brother  one  of  his  three 
swords,  the  sister  one  of  her  three  rings.  But  the  lover, 
who  has  three  ships,  says,  I  can  better  give  up  a  ship 
than  give  up  my  dear  Lilla  ;  my  ships  are  mine  for  a 
short  time,  but  Lilla  for  all  my  life.  Lilla  breaks  out 
in  execrations  :  may  her  father's  horses  fall  dead  when 
they  are  ploughing  in  summer,  may  her  mother's  cows 
dry  up  in  milking,  her  brother's  swords  shiver  in  war, 
her  sister's  rings  break  in  the  very  act  of  marrying ; 
but  may  her  true-love's  ships  long  bring  home  precious 
wares. 

Prevailing  traits  :  1.  Lilla;  in  some  copies  from  East 
Livonia,  Roosi.  2.  Little  room  ;  quite  as  often  prison- 
tower.  3.  The  father  has  horses,  the  mother  cows,  the 
brother  swords,  as  in  the  West  Finnish  versions.  The 
independency  of  the  Esthonian  ballad  is  exhibited  in 
the  sister's  three  rings.  It  must,  as  far  as  I  can  at 
present  see,  have  been  borrowed  directly  from  the 
Swedish,  not  through  the  medium  of  the  Finnish.  The 
lover  has  always  three  ships,  and  it  is  often  wished 
that  these  ships  may  sail  well  in  storm  and  in  winter. 
The  maledictions  occur  regularly,  as  in  the  example 
cited.  There  are  some  divergences  as  to  the  items  of 
property,  mostly  occasioned  by  the  older  Esthonian 
version  :  thus,  the  father  has  sometimes  oxen  or  corn- 
lofts,  the  brother  horses,  the  sister  brooches. 

m.  The  older  Esthonian  versions,  disseminated  in 
Esthonia  and  Livonia,  and  also  among  the  orthodox 
Esthonians  beyond  Pskov.    These  are  in  the  old  eight- 


232 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


syllable  measure  of  the  runes  (and  of  Kalevala).  More 
than  a  hundred  copies  have  been  obtained. 

a.  Best  preserved  and  of  most  frequent  occurrence 
in  the  island  of  Osel.  Twenty  copies.  Specimen  from 
J.  Hurt's  manuscript  collections.  Anne  goes  into  the 
cow-house  and  soils  her  cap.  She  proceeds  to  the  sea- 
beach  to  wash  her  cap.  Ships  come  from  Russia,  from 
Courland.  Anne  is  made  captive.  She  weeps,  and 
bet^s  that  the  ship  may  be  stopped  ;  she  wishes  to  take 
a  look  homewards.  Her  father  has  three  oxen,  one  of 
which  has  silver  horns,  another  copper,  the  third  golden, 
but  he  will  give  none  of  them  for  her.  Her  mother 
has  three  cows,  with  silver,  copper,  golden  udders  ; 
her  brother,  three  horses,  with  the  same  variety  of 
manes  ;  her  sister,  three  sheep,  with  wool  of  the  three 
sorts ;  a  neighbor's  son,  three  lofts  full  of  wheat,  rye, 
barley.  She  wishes  that  the  oxen  may  die  in  plough- 
ing-time,  the  cows  in  milk-time,  the  horses  at  wooing- 
time,  the  sheep  at  wool-time;  but  may  the  corn-lofts 
of  the  neighbor's  son  grow  fuller  in  the  direst  famine- 
time. 

Prevailing  traits  :  1.  The  maid's  name  is  Anne.  2. 
The  pirates  are  Russians  (10  times),  Poles  (6),  Cour- 
landers  (2),  Swedes  (1),  Germans  (1),  English  (1). 
3.  The  father  has  commonly  oxen ;  the  mother,  cows 
always  ;  the  brother,  almost  always  horses  ;  the  sister, 
sheep,  six  times,  oftener  than  anything  else  ;  the  lover, 
ordinarily  corn-lofts.  4.  The  cursing  occurs  ten  times. 
There  are  in  a  few  cases  exchanges  of  the  sorts  of 
property  (thus,  the  father  has  corn-lofts,  the  sister  has 
brooches,  each  four  times),  and  in  two  instances  the 
lover  is  omitted.  The  ballad  has  perhaps  been  affected 
by  another  (see  H,  347  f.)  in  which  a  girl  receives  in- 
formation that  she  has  been  sold  by  her  relations  :  by 
her  father  for  a  pair  of  oxen  (25  cases)  or  for  a  horse 
(18),  by  her  mother  for  a  cow,  by  her  brother  for  a 
horse  (24)  or  for  a  pair  of  oxen  (14),  by  her  sister  for 
a  brooch  ;  and  she  curses  all  that  they  have  got  by  the 
sale. 

b.  Less  perfect  and  not  so  well  preserved  on  the  Es- 
thonian  mainland.  About  100  copies,  more  or  fewer. 
Specimens,  Neus,  p.  109,  No  34,  Hurt,  Vana  Kannel,  I, 
166,  No  103,  n,  310,  No  442. 

Prevailing  traits  :  1.  The  name  of  the  maid,  Anne, 
and  the  introduction  linked  to  it,  are  often  dropped, 
especially  in  the  southeast  of  the  Esthonian  district, 
and  a  passage  about  a  young  conscript  who  wishes  to 
be  bought  off  from  serving  is  substituted.  The  maid, 
whose  brothers  have  hidden  away,  is  pressed  instead 
of  them,  and  sent  into  service.  As  she  is  driven  by  the 
house  of  her  parents  in  the  military  wagon  she  entreats 
her  guards  not  to  make  sail !  2.  The  kidnapper  is  most 
frequently  a  Russian,  then  Pole,  Swede,  less  commonly 
German,  Courlander.  In  the  northeast  of  the  Estho- 
nian district,  on  the  border  of  Ingria,  Karelian,  four 
times.  3.  The  father  often  keeps  the  oxen,  but  almost 
as  often  has  horses  ;  the  brother,  in  these  last  cases,  has 
seldom  oxen,  generally  horses  as  well  as  the  father. 
The  alteration  is  in  part  owing  to  the  same  material 


occasion  as  in  the  West  Finnish  versions  ;  sometimes  an 
influence  from  the  ballad  of  the  maiden  who  has  been 
sold  by  her  relatives  may  be  suspected  (in  which  ballad 
it  is  not  easy  to  say  whether  the  oxen  belong  originally 
to  father  or  brother).  Frequently  the  father  has  corn- 
lofts,  the  lover,  to  whom  these  would  belong,  having 
dropped  out.  The  mother  has  almost  always  cows ; 
in  the  northeast,  on  the  Ingrian  border,  three  times, 
aprons.  The  brother  has  generally  horses,  five  times 
oxen,  with  other  individual  variations.  The  sister 
has  preserved  the  sheep  only  four  times ;  eight  times 
she  has  brooches,  and  in  one  of  these  cases  the  ballad 
of  the  maid  sold  by  her  relatives  is  blended  with  ours, 
while  in  the  remainder  the  influence  of  that  ballad  is 
observable.  In  six  cases  she  has  rings,  perhaps  under 
the  influence  of  the  later  Esthonian  versions.  In  the 
southeast  she  has  chests  seven  times,  and  in  most  of 
these  cases  the  lover  has  the  rings.  Other  variations 
occur  from  one  to  four  times.  The  lover  has  his  corn- 
lofts  nine  times.  Eight  times  he  has  horses,  and  in 
half  of  these  instances  he  has  exchanged  with  the 
brother,  or  both  have  horses.  Twice  he  has  ships, 
through  the  influence  of  the  later  Esthonian  versions  ; 
or  rings,  in  which  cases  the  father  ordinarily  has  the 
corn-lofts.  4.  The  imprecation  in  the  conclusion  is  but 
rarely  preserved. 

IV.  The  East  Finnish  versions.  Diffused  in  Ingria, 
East  Finland,  and  Russian  Karelia.  In  the  old  rune- 
measure,  about  forty  copies.  Specimen,  Ahlqvist's 
collection,  from  East  Finland,  No  351 :  see  J.  K., 
p.  11. 

Prevailing  traits :  1.  The  maid  is  in  a  boat  on  the 
Neva.  2.  The  kidnapper  is  a  Russian.  3.  The  father 
has  a  horse,  the  mother  a  cow,  the  brother  a  horse,  the 
sister  a  sheep  (each  with  an  epithet).  4.  The  impreca- 
tion is  almost  without  exception  preserved.  This  ver- 
sion arose  from  a  blending  of  the  West  Finnish,  I,  the 
older  Esthonian,  III,  and  the  ballad  of  the  maid  sold  by 
her  relatives.  This  latter  occurs  in  West  Ingria  in  the 
following  shape :  The  maid  gets  tidings  that  she  has 
been  sold.  The  father  has  received  for  her  a  gold-horse 
(may  it  founder  when  on  the  way  to  earn  gold ! ),  the 
mother  a  portly  cow  (may  it  spill  its  milk  on  the 
ground!),  the  brother  a  war-horse  (may  the  horse 
founder  on  the  war-path ! ),  the  sister  a  bluish  sheep 
(may  wolf  and  bear  rend  it!).  In  some  copies  the 
father  or  the  brother  has  oxen  (may  they  fall  dead  in 
ploughing !  ),  as  in  the  Esthonian  ballad,  from  which 
the  Ingrian  is  borrowed.  The  sister's  sheep  instead 
of  brooch  shows  perhaps  the  influence  of  the  older 
Esthonian  ballad  of  the  maid  begging  to  be  ransomed, 
or  it  may  be  an  innovation. 

The  ballad  of  the  maid  sold  by  her  family  occurs  in 
West  Ingria  independently,  and  also  as  an  introduction 
to  the  other,  and  has  been  the  occasion  for  the  changes 
in  the  possessions  of  the  relatives.  North  of  St  Peters- 
burg the  combination  is  not  found,  though  it  has  left 
its  traces  in  the  course  of  the  spreading  of  the  ballad 
from  Narva  to  St  Petersburg. 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


233 


The  maid's  sitting  in  a  boat  may  come  as  well  from 
the  older  Esthonian  as  from  the  West  Finnish  version, 
although  it  is  more  common  in  the  latter  for  her  to  be 
sitting  in  the  "  little  room."  The  Russian  as  the  kid- 
napper is  a  constant  feature  in  the  older  Esthonian 
version,  but  occurs  also  three  times  in  the  West  Finnish 
(once  it  is  the  red-headed  Dane,  in  the  copy  in  which 
the  oxen  are  preserved).  Besides  Russian,  the  kid- 
napper is  once  called  Karelian  in  West  Ingria,  often 
in  East  Finland,  and  this  denomination  also  occurs  in 
Northeast  Esthonia.  The  influence  of  the  older  Es- 
thonian versions  is  shown  again  in  some  copies  preserved 
in  West  Ingria  which  are  not  mixed  up  with  the  ballad 
of  the  maid  that  has  been  sold  ;  the  mother  having  three 
aprons  in  two  instances,  as  in  some  Northeast  Estho- 
nian copies. 

The  river  Neva  as  a  local  designation  is  preserved  in 
East  Finland,  and  shows  that  the  version  in  which  it 
occurs  migrated  from  Ingria  northwards.  In  the  course 
of  its  migration  (which  ends  in  Russian  Karelia)  this 
version  has  become  mixed  with  the  West  Finnish  in 
multiform  ways.  The  prelude  of  the  East  Finnish  has 
attached  itself  to  the  West  Finnish,  notwithstanding 
the  different  metre.  The  trilogy  of  the  latter  has  made 
its  way  into  the  former,  and  has  spoiled  the  measure. 
It  is  no  doubt  owing  to  the  influence  of  the  Western 
version  that,  in  North  Ingria  and  Karelia,  the  brother, 
more  frequently  the  lover,  has  a  war-sword,  the  lover 
once  a  sea-ship,  or  the  brother  a  red  boat  or  war-boat. 

Finally  it  may  be  noted  that  in  those  West  Ingrian 
copies  in  which  the  ballads  of  the  maid  sold  and  the 
maid  ransomed  are  blended  the  ransomer  is  a  son-in- 
law,  and  possesses  "a  willow  castle"  (wooden  strong- 
house  ?),  the  relation  of  which  to  the  castle  in  the  West 
Finnish  version  is  not  clear. 

If  we  denote  the  West  Finnish  versions  by  a,  the 
older  Esthonian  by  b,  the  ballad  of  the  maid  sold  by 
her  family  by  c,  the  status  of  the  East-Finnish  versions 
may  be  exhibited  thus  : 

In  West  Ingria,  b  -j-  c  -}-  a. 

In  North  Ingria,  b  -j-  c  -j-  a  +  a. 

In  Karelia,  b  +  c-|-a-|-a-f-a. 

That  is  to  say,  there  has  been  a  constantly  increasing 
influence  exerted  by  the  West  Finnish  versions  upon  the 
East  Finnish  Ingrian  versions,  and  reciprocally.  This 
circumstance  has  caused  it  to  be  maintained  that  the 
East  Finnish  versions  were  derived  from  the  West 
Finnish,  in  spite  of  the  diiference  of  the  metre. 

353  a.  F  was  communicated  by  Rev.  W.  Findlay  : 
Findlay  MSS,  I,  100. 

353.  H.  c.  Mrs  Bacheller,  of  Jacobstown,  North 
Cornwall  (sister  of  Mrs  Gibbons,  from  whom  78  H  was 
derived,  see  IV,  474  b),  gave  Rev.  S.  Baring-Gould  the 
following  version  of  the  tale,  taught  her  by  a  Cornish 
nursery  maid,  probably  the  same  mentioned  at  the  place 
last  cited. 

"  A  king  had  three  daughters.     He  gave  each  a 


golden  ball  to  play  with,  which  they  were  never  to  lose. 
The  youngest  lost  hers,  and  was  to  be  hung  on  the 
gallows-tree  if  it  were  not  found  by  a  day  named.  Gal- 
lows ready,  all  waiting  to  see  the  girl  himg.  She  sees 
her  father  coming,  and  cries  : 

'  Father,  father,  have  you  found  my  golden  ball^ 
And  will  you  set  me  free  ?  ' 

'  I  've  not  found  your  golden  ball, 

And  I  can't  set  you  free  ; 
But  I  am  come  to  see  you  hanged 

Upon  the  gallows-tree.* 

The  same  repeated  with  every  relationship,  brother, 
sister,  etc. ;  then  comes  the  lover  : 

'  Lover,  lover,  have  you  found  the  golden  ball,'  etc. 

*  Yes,  I  have  found  your  golden  ball, 

And  I  can  set  you  free  ; 
I  'm  not  come  to  see  you  hung 

Upon  the  gallows-tree.' " 

854,  IV,  481  f. 


'  The  Prickly  Bush,'  Mr  Haywood  Sumner,  in  English 
County  Songs,  by  Lucy  E.  Broadwood  and  J.  A.  Puller 
Maitland,  p.  112,    From  Somersetshire. 

1  '  O  hangman,  hold  thy  hand,'  he  cried, 

'  0  hold  thy  hand  awhile, 
For  I  can  see  my  own  dear  father 
Coming  over  yonder  stile. 

2  '  O  father,  have  you  brought  me  gold  ? 

Or  will  you  set  me  free  ? 
Or  be  you  come  to  see  me  hung, 
All  on  this  high  gallows-tree  ? ' 

3  *  No,  I  have  not  brought  thee  gold. 

And  I  will  not  set  thee  free, 
But  I  am  come  to  see  thee  hung, 
All  on  this  high  gallows-tree.' 

4  '  Oh,  the  prickly  bush,  the  prickly  bush, 

It  pricked  my  heart  full  sore  ; 
If  ever  I  get  out  of  the  prickly  bush, 
I  '11  never  get  in  any  more.' 

The  above  is  repeated  three  times  more,  with  the 
successive  substitution  of  '  mother,'  '  brother,'  '  sister,' 
for  'father.'  Then  the  first  two  stanzas  are  repeated, 
with  'sweetheart'  for  'father,'  and  instead  of  3  is 
suns  : 


234 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


6  *  Yes,  I  have  brought  thee  gold,'  she  cried, 

'  And  I  will  set  thee  free, 
And  I  am  come,  but  not  to  see  thee  hung 

All  on  this  high  gallous-tree.' 
'  Oh,  the  prickly  bush,'  etc. 

In  this  version,  a  man  is  expressly  delivered  by 
a  maid,  contrary  to  the  general  course  of  tradition. 
So  apparently  in  J,  IV,  481,  as  understood  by  Di\ 
Birkbeck  Hill. 

96.  The  Gay  Goshawk. 

P.  365.  M.  G.  Lewis,  in  a  letter  of  May  29,  1800 
(Letters  at  Abbotsford,  I,  No  30),  refers  to  a  copy  of 
this  ballad  (and  one  of  '  Brown  Adam  ')  which  he  had 
furnished  Scott.  This  might  perhaps  be  the  "  MS.  of 
some  antiquity  "  (printed,  IV,  482). 

As  to  the  bird's  part  in  this  ballad,  compare  the  fol- 
lowing passage.  A  son,  in  prison,  sending  a  letter  to 
his  mother  by  a  bird,  gives  this  charge  : 

Quando  giugnerete  alia  porta  mia, 

Lk  sta  un  ulivo. 

Posati  su  quell'  ulivo, 

V  agita  e  dibatti  1'  ali, 

Che  di  te  caderk  il  foglio  di  carta. 

De  Eada,  Rapsodie  d'un  poema  Albanese,  I,  canto 
xvi,  p.  29. 

P.  356  a,  Til,  517  a,  IV,  482  a.  French.  Add: 
*  La  belle  qui  fait  la  morte,'  '  La  fille  du  due  de  Mont- 
brison,'  Pineau,  Le  Folk-Lore  du  Poitou,  p.  311,  p.  389 
(each,  six  stanzas)  ;  '  La  belle  dans  la  tour,'  six  copies 
(besides  Belle  Idoine  repeated) ,  M.  Wilmotte  in  Bulle- 
tin de  Folklore,  Soci^te  du  Folklore  Wallon,  1893,  p.  35. 

356  b,  3d  paragraph,  III,  517  a.  Add :  A  copy  of  '  Les 
trois  capitaines,'  in  M^lusine,  VI,  52,  183  ;  Wallonia, 
I,  38  ;  "Fred.  Thomas,  LaMosaique  du  Midi,  V,  1841; 
C.  Beauquier,  Mem.  de  la  Soc.  d'fimulation  du  Doubs, 
1890,"  M^lusine,  VI,  220,  where  also  a  Catalan  version, 
which  had  escaped  my  notice,  Milk  y  Fontanals,  Ro- 
mancerillo,  p.  259,  No  264,  is  registered  by  M.  Don- 
cieux.     A  Breton  version,  Mdlusine,  VI,  182. 

99.  Johnie  Soot. 

P.  379.  A.  Considering  that  Sir  "Walter  Scott  pro- 
fesses to  have  derived  some  variations  from  recitation 
in  the  south  of  Scotland  (see  the  note,  IV,  387),  the 
copy  in  "  Scottish  Songs  "  may  be  fully  collated,  small 
as  will  be  the  value  of  the  result. 

'  John  the  Little  Scott,'  fol.  24. 

1  John  the  Scot  was  as  brave  a  knight 
As  ever  shook  a  speir. 
And  he  is  up  to  fair  England, 
The  king's  braid  banner  to  bear. 


2  And  while  he  was  in  fair  England, 

Sae  fair  his  hap  did  prove 
That  of  the  king's  ae  daughter  dear 
He  wan  the  heart  and  love. 

3  But  word  is  gane  to  the  English  king, 

And  an  angry  man  was  he, 
And  he  has  sworn  by  salt  and  bread 
They  should  it  dear  abye. 

4  wanting.    5\  Then  Johny  's  gane.    5^'*.  1  wot. 

58.  the  English. 

68«*.  To  hear  some  news  from  his  true  love, 

Least  she  had  sufferd  wrang. 
7'.  That  will  win  hose  and  shoon. 
7'.  will  gang  into.     8\  Then  up  there. 
9  wanting.     10*.  to  grass  growing. 
11^  And  when  :  to  the  king's  castle. 
11*.  saw  that  fair  ladye.     12^,  132.  ain  sel. 
12*.  And  speer  na  your  father's.     13^.   Here  take. 
13^  to  feir  Scotland.     13*.  Your  true  love  waits. 
14^.  The  ladie  turned  her  round  about. 
14*.  Unless.     15*.  In  prison  pinching  cold. 
158.  My  garters  are  of.     15*.  the  silk  and  gold. 
16*.  And  hie  thee  back  to  yon  Scottish  knight. 
17\  quickly  sped. 

18^.  He  told  him  then  that  ladle's  words. 
182.  He  told  him. 
18**.  But  ere  the  tale  was  half  said  out 

Sae  loudly  to  horse  he  did  ca. 
19*.  That  should  have  been  my  bride. 
20^.  And  spak  his  mither  dear. 
20*.  For  gin  you  're  taen.     20*.  ye  '11. 
21^.  and  spak.     21^.  And  Johny  's  true. 
21*.  And  his  surety  I  will. 
22.  Then  when  they  cam  to  English  ground 

They  gard  the  mass  be  sung. 
And  the  firsten  town  that  they  cam  to 

They  gard  the  bells  be  rung. 
23^.  And  the  nextin  :  cam  to.     23*.  Were. 
24^.  And  when  :  the  high  castle.     24*^.  rode. 
258.  Or  is  it.     261.  i  'm  not.     262.  James  our. 
268.  But  Johny  Scot,  the  little  Scot. 
271.  is  thy  name.     278,  ggr. 
281.  an^  gpak  the  gallant.     288.  hundred. 
28*.  That  will  die  or.     29i.  and  spak. 
292.  And  sae  scornfully  leugh  he.     29*.  my  bower 

301.  boon,  said  the  little  Scot. 

302.  Bring  forth  your.     308.  falls.     30*.  I  hae. 

31  Out  then  cam  that  Italian  knight, 
A  griesly  sight  to  see  ; 
Between  his  een  there  was  a  span. 
Between  his  shoulders  three  and  three. 

And  forth  then  came  brave  John  the  Scot, 

He  scarcely  reachd  his  knee. 
Yet  on  the  point  of  Johny 's  brand 

The  Italian  knight  did  die. 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


235 


32  And  syne  has  he  waved  his  bludie  glaive, 

And  slait  it  on  the  plain  ; 
*  Are  there  any  more  Italian  dogs 
That  you  wish  to  be  slain?  ' 

33  '  A  clerk,  a  clerk,'  the  king  he  cried, 

'  To  register  this  deed ; ' 
'  A  priest,  a  priest,'  Pitnochtan  cried, 
*  To  marry  us  wi  speed.' 

34  wanting. 

384.  A  copy  of  D  was  sent  by  Motherwell  to  C.  K. 
Sharpe  with  a  letter  of  December  6,  1824,  in  which 
many  of  the  variations  of  b  were  introduced  into  a. 


101.  Willie  o  Douglas  Dale. 

P.  407.  A.  Collated  with  the  copy  in  the  Abbotsford 
MS.  "  Scottish  Songs,'  as  to  which  see  the  note  at 
IV,  387. 

'  Willie  of  Douglas-dale,'  fol.  16. 

1^.  was  a  gallant  squire.     2^.  the  English  court. 

2*.  When.     2*.  But  her  he  neer  could.     3^.  once. 

32.  the  wanting.     3*.  By  the  ae.     4^.  louted  low. 

42.  His  cap  low  in  his. 

4*.  I  greet  ye  well,  ye  gentle  knight. 

4*.  your  cap.     5^.  knight,  fair  dame. 

52.  Nor  eer  can  hope.   5^  am  but  a  humble  squire. 

5*.  That  serves.     6^.  Gae.     62.  baith  night. 

6*.  tempting  written  before  face  and  struck  out. 

6*.  ever  I.     7  wanting. 

8^.  He  watchd  that  ladye's. 

8^.  passd  the  twa  between. 

9\  O  narrow  is  my  gown,  Willy. 

9'.  And  short  are  my  petticoats.     9*.  sae  wide. 

9*.  is  laid.     10^.  gin  my  father  get  wit. 

10'.  never  eat.     lO^i^.  get  wit.     10*.  gae. 

10*.  Ah,  Willy,  you  '11.     11^.  O  gin  ye  '11. 

ll'^.  gang.     11«.  into.     12  wanting. 

li\  day  was  come.     14*.  den. 

148.  That  gentle  ladye.     14*.  While  the. 

ISM.  Or  lack  ye  ony  tender  love 

That  may  assuage  your  pain. 

16^.  wan  na.     16".  for  my.     16'.  And  alas,  alas. 

171.  He  's  felld  the  thorn  in. 

17'.  And  blawn  it  to  a  flame. 

178.  He's  strewd  it. 

1 7*.  To  cheer  that  lovely  dame. 

18^.  He  's  :  in  gude. 

IB*.  And  laid  the  fair  ladye. 

18*.  he  's  happed  her  oer  wi  withered. 

18*.  his  coat  and  goun.     19  wanting. 

20^.  branch  red.     20^.  grew  in  gude  grene  wood. 

20^.  And  brought  her  a  draught. 

20*.  I  wot  they  did  her  good. 

21-23  wanting.     24^.  to  shoot. 

242.  has  he  wanting.     25  {after  30). 


26*i'.  Syne  has  he  sought  the  forest  through, 

Sum  woman's  help  to  gain. 
26*.  he  came  to  a  bonny. 

271.  O  will  ye  leave  the  sheep,  he  says. 

272.  And  come.     278.  yg.     27*.  give. 

282.  She  fell  down.     288.  fair  dame.     28*.  For  a. 
292.  but  wanting.     298.  ye  :  flocks. 
29*.  And  gang  to  fair.     308.  for  you. 
30*.  marry  wanting :  Scottish  man. 
Afier  30  (see  25)  : 

O  taen  has  she  the  bonny  knave-boy 

And  washd  him  in  the  milke, 
And  she  has  tended  the  sick  lady, 

And  rowd  her  in  the  silk. 
31^.  maid.     318.  took  to  fair.     32^.  an  wanting. 
328.  tiiey  gat  safe.     32*.  Himself  was  lord  therein. 

411.  From  «  The  Old  Lady's  Collection,"  No  33, 
♦  Willie  of  Duglass  Daill.'  The  Dame  Oliphant  of  the 
other  versions  is  somewhat  disguised  in  the  old  lady's 
writing  as  Demelefond,  Demelofen,  etc. 


1  Willie  was  a  rich  man's  son, 

A  rich  man's  son  was  he ; 
Hee  thought  his  father  lake  to  sair, 

An  his  mother  of  mine  digree, 
An  he  is  on  to  our  English  court, 

To  serve  for  meatt  an  fee. 

2  He  hadno  ben  in  our  king's  court 

A  tuall-month  an  a  day, 
Till  he  fell  in  love  we  Mary,  Dem  [Ele]fon, 
An  a  great  buity  was  she. 

3  He  hadno  ben  in  our  king's  court 

A  tuall-month  an  a  houre, 
Till  he  dreamed  a  lady  of  buty  bright 
Gave  him  a  rosey  flour. 

4  The  lady  touk  her  mantell  her  about, 

Her  gooun-teall  in  her  hand, 
An  she  is  on  to  gued  grean  woud, 
As  fast  as  she  could  gang. 


An  ther  she  spayed  a  gellant  knight, 
Kamen  his  yallou  hear. 

'  What  is  yer  name,  sir  knight  ? 

For  a  knight  I  am  sure  ye  be ; ' 
'  I  am  called  Willie  of  Duglas  Dall, 

Did  ye  never  hear  of  me  ? ' 


236 


ADDITIONS  AND  COBEECTIONS 


*  K  ye  be  Willie  of  Duglass  Daill, 

I  a£Bt  have  heard  of  thee.' 

7  *  What  is  yer  name,  ye  lovely  dame  ? 

For  a  lady  I  trou  ye  be ; ' 
'  I  am  called  Mary,  Dem  Elefond, 
Did  ye  never  hear  of  me  ? ' 

8  '  In  ye  be  Mary,  Dem  Elef on, 

As  I  trust  well  ye  be, 

•  •••••* 
My  heart  ye  haa  ye  we.' 

9  The  lady  was  fair  an  rear, 

The  knight's  heart  had  she ; 
The  knight  was  tall  an  straght  withall, 
The  lady's  hart  had  he. 

10  It  fell  ance  upon  a  day 

Dem  Elof  en  thought  lang, 
An  she  is  on  to  Willie's  hour, 
As  fast  as  she  could  gang. 

11  '  Narrou  is  my  pettecot,  Willie, 

It  ance  was  saa  wide, 
An  narrou  is  my  stays,  Willie, 

Att  ance  war  saa  wide. 
An  paiU  is  my  chikes,  Willie, 

An  laigh,  laigh  is  my  pride. 

12  * 

An  the  knights  of  my  father's  court  gat  word 
of  this, 
I  feer  they  wad  gare  ye  diee.' 

13  He  touke 

The  lady  by  the  hand. 
An  they  are  one  to  gued  green  woud. 
As  fast  as  they  coud  gang. 

14  It  feU  ance  upon  a  day 

Strong  travileng  came  her  tell, 


15  *  Ye  take  your  boue  on  yer  shoulder, 

Yer  arrous  in  yer  hand, 
An  ye  gaa  farr  throu  green  woud. 
An  shout  some  veneson. 

16  '  Fan  ye  hear  me  loud  cray. 

Bide  far  awaa  f ra  me, 


Bat  fan  ye  hear  me  laying  still 
Ye  may  come  back  an  see.' 

17  Fan  he  hard  her  loud  cray, 

He  bad  far  awaa. 
Bat  fan  he  heard  her  laying  still 

He  did  come  an  see. 
An  he  got  her 

An  her  young  son  her  wee. 

18  He  milked  the  goats. 

An  feed  his  young  son  wee. 
And  he  made  a  fire  of  the  oken  speals, 
An  warmed  his  lady  wee. 

19  It  fell  ance  upon  a  day 

The  lady  though[t]  lang : 
'  An  ye  haa  any  place  in  fair  Scotland,  Willie, 
I  wiss  ye  wad  haa  me  hame.' 

20  ' 

I  ha  lands  an  reants  saa  friee. 
The  bonny  lands  of  Duglass  Daill, 
They  a'  lay  bread  an  friee.' 

21  He  's  taen  the  knight-bairn  in  his  arms. 

His  lady  by  the  hand. 
An  he  is  out  throu  gued  green  woud. 
As  fast  as  they  coud  gang. 


22 


Till  they  came  to  a  maid  kepping  her  goats. 


23  '  Halle,  ye  maid. 

For  a  maid  ye  seem  to  be  ; 
Will  ye  live  your  goats  kepping 
An  goo  we  me  ? 

24  '  I  cannot  live  my  father,  I   canno  live  my 

midder. 
Nor  yet  my  brethren  three ; 
I  cannot  live  my  goats  kepping. 
An  goo  along  we  the. 

25  '  Fatt  is  your  name,  ye  lovely  dame  ? 

For  a  lady  I  am  shour  ye  be ; ' 
'  I  am  called  Mary,  Dem  Elifond, 
Did  ye  never  hear  of  me  ? ' 

26  '  If  ye  be  Mary,  Dem  Elifond, 

As  I  trust  well  ye  be, 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


237 


I  will  live  my  goats  kepping 
An  goo  along  we  the. 

27  '  For  I  will  live  my  father,  an  I  ill  live  my 

mother, 
An  my  brothers  three, 
An  I  will  live  my  goats, 
An  go  along  we  thee.' 

28  The  maid  touke  the  knight-bairn  in  her  ar[m]s, 

An  his  lady  took  he. 
An  they  are  to  gued  ship-bourd, 

And  took  God  to  be  ther  foresteed,  an  didne 
fear  to  dromi. 

29  An  they  landed  att  Duglas  Dalle, 

Far  the  lands  was  braid  an  f  rie, 
An  the  knight-bairn  was  Black  Sir  James  of 
Duglas  Dall, 
An  a  gallant  knight  was  hee. 

Written,  like  all  the  other  pieces  in  the  col- 
lection, without  division  into  stanzas  or 
verses. 

2'.  Demefon ;  contracted  at  the  edge. 
9'.  was  tell.     11^  Bead  side  ? 
14^.  Perhaps  her  tee. 

105.  The  Bailiflfs  Daughter  of  Islington. 

P.  426  f.  Of  the  Italian  ballad  there  are  many  more 
versions,  but  it  is  needless  to  cite  them.  Add  for 
Spanish  :  '  La  Ausencia,'  Fidal,  Asturian  Romances, 
Nos  31,  32,  p.  152  f. 

107.  Will  Stewart  and  John. 

P.  433  b,  2d  paragraph.     Beating  of  daughters. 

Elizabeth  Fasten,  a  marriageable  woman,  was 
*'  betyn  onys  in  the  weke,  or  twyes,  and  som  tyme 
twyes  on  a  day,  and  hir  hed  broken  in  to  or  thre 
places."     (1449.)     Paston  Letters,  ed.  Gairdner,  I,  90. 

110.  The  Knight  and  the  Shepherd's 
Daughter. 

P.  457,  IV,  492.  From  «  The  Old  Lady's  Collec- 
tion," No  34,  '  Earl  Richerd,'=  Skene,  M. 

N 

1  Ther  was  a  sheperd's  daughter 
Keeped  hogs  upon  yon  hill, 


An  by  came  [t]her  a  gentell  knight, 
An  he  wad  haa  his  will. 

2  Fan  his  will 

Of  her  he  had  taiin, 
'  Kind  sir,  for  your  curtisy. 
Will  ye  tell  me  yer  name  ? ' 

3  *  Some  they  caa  me  Joke, 

An  some  caa  me  John, 
Bat  fan  I  am  in  our  king's  court 
Hichkoke  is  my  name.' 

4  The  lady  bieng  well  book-read 

She  spealled  it  our  agen : 
'  Hichkoke  in  Latin 

Is  Earl  Bicherd  att  beam.' 

5  He  patt  his  liag  out-our  his  stead 

An  to  the  gate  has  gain ; 
She  kilted  up  her  green  clathing 
An  fast  folloued  she. 

6  *  Turn  back,  ye  carl's  dother, 

An  dinne  f  ollou  me ; 

It  setts  no  carl's  dothers 

Eong's  courts  to  see.' 

7  *  Perhaps  I  am  a  carle's  dother, 

Perhaps  I  am  nean, 
Bat  fan  ye  gat  me  in  free  forest 
Ye  sud  haa  latten  alean.' 

8  Fan  they  came  to  yon  wan  water 

That  a'  man  cas  Glide, 
He  luked  our  his  left  shoulder. 
Says,  Fair  maid,  will  ye  ride  ? 

9  *  I  learned  it  in  my  mother's  hour, 

I  watt  I  learned  it  weU, 
Fan  I  came  to  wan  water 
To  soum  as  dos  the  call. 

10  *  I  learned  it  in  my  mother's  hour, 

I  wiss  I  had  learned  it  better, 
Fan  I  came  to  wan  watter 
To  sume  as  dos  the  otter.' 

11  She.touk  a  golden  comb, 

Combed  out  her  yallou  hear, 


238 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


12  *  Far  gatt  ye  that,  ye  carl's  dother, 

I  pray  ye  tell  to  me ;  * 
'  I  gatt  it  fra  my  mither,'  she  says, 
'  To  beguile  sick  sparks  as  ye.' 

13  '  Gin  ye  be  a  carl's  gett, 

As  I  trou  well  ye  be, 
Far  gatt  ye  a'  that  fine  clothing, 
To  cloath  yer  body  we  ? ' 

14  '  My  mother  was  an  ill  woman, 

An  ill  woman  was  she. 
An  she  gatt  a'  that  fine  clathing, 
Frae  sick  chaps  as  ye.' 

15  Fan  they  came  to  our  king's  court. 

She  fell  lou  doun  on  her  knee : 

•  Win  up,  ye  fair  may, 

What  may  ye  want  we  me  ? ' 
'  Ther  is  a  knight  in  your  court 
This  day  has  robbed  me.* 

16  *  Has  he  robbed  you  of  your  goud  ? 

Or  of  your  whit  monie  ? 
Or  of  your  meadnhead, 
The  flour  of  your  body  ? ' 

17  '  He  has  no  robbed  me  of  my  goud, 

Nor  yet  of  my  fiee. 
Bat  he  has  robed  me  of  my  madinhead. 
The  flour  of  my  body.' 

18  *  Wad  ye  keen  the  knight, 

If  ye  did  him  see  ?  ' 

*  I  wad  keen  him  well  by  his  well-fared  face 

An  the  blieth  blink  of  his  eay.' 
An  sighan  says  the  king, 

I  wiss  it  bine  my  brother  Richie  ! 

19  The  king  called  on  his  merry  men  a', 

By  an,  by  tua,  by  three ; 
Earl  Richerd  had  ay  ben  the  first. 
Bat  the  last  man  was  he. 

20  By  that  ye  might  a  well  kent 

The  gulty  man  was  he ; 
She  took  him  by  the  hand, 
Says,  That  same  is  hee. 

21  Ther  was  a  brand  laid  doun  to  her, 

A  brand  batt  an  a  ring. 
Three  times  she  minted  to  the  brand, 
Bat  she  took  up  the  ring ; 


A'  that  was  in  the  court 

'S  counted  her  a  wise  woman. 

22  '  I  will  gee  ye  five  hundred  pound, 

To  make  yer  marrage  we. 
An  ye  gie  hame,  ye  carl's  dother, 
An  fash  na  mare  we  me.' 

23  '  Ye  keep  yer  five  hundred  pound. 

To  make  yer  marreg  we. 
For  I  will  ha  nathing  bat  yer  sell, 
The  king  he  promised  me.' 

24  '  I  ill  gee  ye  a  thousand  poun. 

To  make  yer  marrage  we. 

An  ye  gae  hame,  ye  carl's  gett, 

An  fash  na  mare  we  me.' 

25  '  Ye  keep  yer  thousand  pound, 

To  make  yer  marreg  we, 
For  I  ill  ha  nathing  batt  yer  sell, 
The  king  he  promised  me.' 

26  He  toke  her  doun 

An  clothed  her  in  green ; 
Fan  she  cam  up, 

She  was  fairer  then  the  quin. 

27  Fan  they  gaid  to  Mary  Kirk, 

The  nettels  grue  by  dike : 
'  0  gin  my  midder  war  hear, 

Sai  clean  as  she  wad  them  peak !  * 

28  He  drue  his  hat  out-our  his  eayn, 

The  tear  bhnded  his  eay  ; 
She  drue  back  her  yallou  loaks, 
An  a  light  laughter  luke  she. 

29  Fan  she  came  by  yon  mill-toun, 

'  O  well  may  the  mill  goo. 

An  well  matt  she  be  ! 
For  aften  ha  ye  filled  my  poke 

We  the  whit  meall  an  the  gi'ay.' 

30  *  I  wiss  I  had  druken  the  water 

Fan  I  drank  the  aill, 
Or  any  carl's  dother 

Suld  ha  tald  me  siken  a  teall.' 

31  '  Perhaps  I  am  a  carl's  dother. 

Perhaps  I  am  nean ; 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


239 


Fan  ye  gatt  me  in  frie  forest, 
Ye  sud  ha  latten  alean. 


32  '  Take  awa  yer  silver  spons, 
Far  awa  f ra  me, 
An  ye  gee  me  t[he]  ram-hom  [s]pons, 
Them  I  am  best  used  we. 


2\  ha  had. 

8^.  cas  es :  perhaps  caes  was  meant. 
9*.  to  eull.     18^  sigh  an.     21".  courts. 
32'.  t  with  an  imperfect  letter,  for  the. 
37  ^  Perhaps  we. 

39*,  40^.  The  t  is  not  crossed  in  Heartfourd, 
and  Hearlfourd  may  he  meant. 


33  *  Ye  take  awa  yer  tabel-cloths. 

Far  awa  fra  me. 
An  ye  gee  me  a  mukell  dish 
I  am  best  used  we. 

34  *  For  if  I  had  my  mukel  dish  hear. 

An  sayn  an  it  war  fou, 
I  wad  sup  till  I  war  sared. 

An  sayn  lay  doun  my  head  an  slep  like  ony 
sou. 

35  '  Ye  take  away  yer  hoUan  shits. 

Far  awa  fra  me. 
An  ye  bring  me  a  cannas. 

It 's  the  thing  I  ben  eased  we.' 

36  Fan  bells  wer  rung,  an  mess  was  sung, 

An  a'  man  boun  to  bed, 
Earl  Richerd  an  the  carl's  dother 
In  a  bed  [were  laid]. 

37  *  Lay  yond,  lay  yond,  ye  carl's  dother, 

Your  hot  skin     .     .     me ; 
It  setts  na  carl's  dothers 
In  earls'  beds  to  be.' 

38  '  Perhaps  I  am  a  carl's  dother. 

Perhaps  I  am  nean ; 
Bat  fan  ye  gat  me  in  free  forest 
Ye  might  a  latten  alean.' 

39  Up  starts  the  Bellie  Blind, 

Att  ther  bed-head : 
'  I  think  it  is  a  meatt  marrage 

Betuen  the  ane  an  the  eather, 
The  Earl  of  Heartfourds  ae  daughter 

An  the  Quien  of  England's  brother.' 

40  *If   this    be  the    Earl   of    Heartfourd's    ae 

doughter. 
As  I  trust  well  it  be, 
Mony  a  gued  hors  have  I  redden 
For  the  love  of  the.' 


Kidson's  Traditional  Tunes,  p.  20,  from  Mr  Benjamin 
Holgate,  Leeds. 

1  There  was  a  shepherd's  daughter 
"Who  kept  sheep  on  yon  hill ; 
There  came  a  young  man  riding  by. 
Who  swore  he  'd  have  his  will. 
Fol  lol  lay 
Fol  lol  di  diddle  lol  di  day 

2*''.  He  took  her  by  the  liUy-white  hand 
And  by  her  silken  sleeve, 

3*.  Or  tell  to  me  your  name. 

4  *  Oh,  some  they  call  me  Jack,  sweetheart, 
And  some  they  call  me  Will, 
But  when  I  ride  the  king's  high-gate 
My  name  is  Sweet  WUliam.' 

4^  But  name. 


Findlay's  MSS,  1, 208,  from  Mr  McEenzie,  Advie,  Moray- 
shire. 

1  'T  is  said  a  shepherd's  ae  daughter 

Kept  sheep  upon  a  hill. 
An  by  there  cam  a  courteous  knight, 
An  he  wad  hae  his  will. 

2  He  's  taen  her  by  the  milk-white  hand 

An  by  the  grass-green  sleeve. 
He  's  laid  her  doon  at  the  fit  o  a  bush, 
An  neer  ance  speired  her  leave. 

112.  The  Baffled  Knight. 

P.  480  a,  4th  paragraph.  '  The  Politick  Maid  '  was 
entered  to  Thomas  Lambert,  16th  May,  1637  :  Arber, 
Stationers'  Registers,  IV,  385. 

481  b,  III,  518  a,  IV,  495  a.  Tears.  '  Chasseur, 
mon  beau  chasseur,'  Pineau,  Le  Folk-Lore  du  Poitou, 
p.  251. 


240 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


Varieties.     '  La  jolie  Couturiere,'  Pineau,  p.  285. 
483  b.     '  La  jolie  Bateliere,'  Romania,  XIII,  410  ; 
La  Tradition,  VII,  110. 


VOL.  III. 


117.  A  Qest  of  Robyn  Hode. 

P.  40  b.  References  to  Robin  Hood  in  the  15th  cen- 
tury. 

And  many  men  speken  of  Robyn  Hood 
And  shotte  nevere  in  his  bowe. 

Reply  of  Friar  Dow  Topias,  in  Wright's  Poetical 
Poems  and  Songs  relating  to  English  History,  II,  59, 
dated  by  Wright  1401,  which  may  be  rather  too  early. 
The  proverbial  phrase  shows  that  Robin  Hood  had  long 
been  familiar  to  the  English  People. 

120.  Robin  Hood's  Death. 

P.  103  a,  note  *.  *  Give  me  my  God '  is  not  perhaps 
too  bold  a  suggestion.  We  have  '  yeve  me  my  savyour  * 
in  the  Romance  of  the  Rose,  Morris,  v.  6436,  trans- 
lating *  le  cors  nostre  seigneur.' 

132.  The  Bold  Pedlar  and  Robin  Hood. 

P.  155.  The  following  copy,  entitled  *  Robin  Hood 
and  the  Proud  Pedlar,'  is  from  a  garland  in  a  collection 
of  folio  sheet-ballads  mostly  dated  1775,  in  the  British 
Museum,  1346.  m.  7(9).  The  Museum  catalogue  assigns 
the  ballads  to  Edinburgh.  I  owe  my  knowledge  of  this 
piece  to  Mr  P.  Z.  Round. 

1  There  was  a  proud  pedlar,  a  fine  pedlar, 

a  proud  pedlar  he  seemd  to  be, 
And  he  's  taen  his  pack  upon  his  back, 
and  went  linking  over  the  lee. 

2  Where  he  met  two  troublesome  men, 

troublesome  men  they  seemd  to  be. 
The  one  of  them  was  Robin  Hood, 
the  other  Little  John  so  free. 

3  *  O  what  is  that  into  thy  pack? 

thou  pedlar  proud  now  tell  to  me  ; ' 

'  There  's  seven  suits  of  good  green  silk, 

and  bow-strings  either  two  or  three.* 

4  *If  there  's  seven  suits  of  good  green  silk, 

and  silken  bow-strings  two  or  three, 
Then  be  my  sooth,'  says  Little  John, 
'  there  'a  some  of  them  must  fall  to  me.' 


5  Then  he  's  taen  his  pack  off  his  back, 

and  laid  it  low  down  by  his  knee  : 

*  Where  's  the  man  fit  to  drive  me  frae  't? 

then  pack  and  all  to  him  I  '11  gie.' 

6  Then  Little  John  puUd  out  his  sword, 

the  pedler  he  pulld  out  his  brand. 
They  swapped  swords  till  they  did  sweat ; 
'  O  pedlar  fine,  now  hold  thy  hand  I ' 

7  '  O  fy  !  O  fy  ! '  said  Robin  Hood, 

*  O  fy  !  O  f y  !  that  must  not  be. 
For  I  've  seen  a  man  in  greater  strait 

than  to  pay  him  and  pedlars  three.' 

8  •  Then  try  him,  try  him,  master,'  he  said, 

'  O  try  him  now,  master,'  said  he, 

*  For  by  me  sooth,'  said  Little  John, 

*  master,  't  is  neither  you  nor  me.' 

9  Bold  Robin  pulld  out  his  sword, 

the  pedlar  he  pulld  out  his  brand. 
They  swapped  swords  till  they  did  sweat ; 
'  O  pedlar  fine,  now  hold  thy  hand ! 

10  '  O  what 's  thy  name,'  says  Robin  Hood, 

*  now,  pedlar  fine,  come  tell  to  me  ; ' 
'  No,  be  my  sooth,  that  will  I  not, 

till  I  know  what  your  names  may  be.' 

11  •  The  one  of  us  ['s]  calld  Robin  Hood, 

the  other  Little  John  so  free, 
And  now  it  lies  into  thy  breast 
whether  thou  'It  tell  thy  name  to  me.' 

12  '  I  'm  Gamwell  gay,  of  good  green  wood, 

my  fame  is  far  beyond  the  sea  ; 
For  killing  a  man  in  my  father's  land 
my  native  land  I  was  forcd  to  flee.' 

13  *  If  thou  be  Gamwell  of  the  green  wood, 

thy  fame  is  far  beyond  the  sea  ; 
And  be  my  sooth,'  said  Little  John, 
'  my  sister's  son  thou  needs  must  be. 

14  *  But  what  was  that  was  on  thy  back  ? 

O,  cousin  Gamwell,  tell  unto  me  ;  * 
'  It  is  seven  sarks  and  three  gravats, 
is  all  the  kitt  that  I  carry.' 

15  They  smoothd  their  words  and  sheathd  their  swords, 

and  kissd  and  clapt  most  tenderly ; 
To  a  tavern  then  they  went  to  dine, 
and  drank  about  most  heartily. 

July,  1776. 

Captain  Delany's  Garland,  containing  five  new 
songs,  ...  II,  Robin  Hood  and  the  Proud 
Pedlar. 

62,  6^  9*.  padler. 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


241 


152.  Robin  Hood  and  the  Golden  Arrow. 

P.  223.    Letter  shot  to  its  address  on  an  arrow. 
Afanasief,  Bussian  Popular  Tales,  V,  183. 

166.  Sir  Hugh,  or,  The  Jew's  Daughter. 
P.  233,  IV,  497. 


'Little    Sir  William,'    Miss    M,  H.  Mason's    Nursery 
Rhymes  and  Country  Songs,  p.  46. 

1  Easter  Day  was  a  holiday, 

Of  all  days  in  the  year. 
And  all  the  little  schoolfellows  went  out  to 
play, 
Bat  Sir  William  was  not  there. 

2  Mamnaa  went  to  the  Jew's  wife's  house, 

And  knocked  at  the  ring, 
Saying,  Little  Sir  William,  if  you  are  there, 
Oh,  let  your  mother  in ! 

3  The  Jew's  wife  opened  the  door  and  said, 

He  is  not  here  to-day  ; 
He  is  with  the  little  schoolfellows  out  on  the 
green, 
Playing  some  pretty  play. 

4  Mamma  went  to  the  Boyne  water, 

That  is  so  wide  and  deep. 
Saying,  Little  Sir  WUliam,  if  you  are  there, 
Oh,  pity  your  mother's  weep  ! 

5  *  How  can  I  pity  your  weep,  mother. 

And  I  so  long  in  pain  ? 
For  the  little  penknife  sticks  close  in  my  heart, 
And  the  Jew's  wife  has  me  slain. 

6  '  Go  home,  go  home,  my  mother  dear. 

And  prepare  my  winding  sheet. 
For  tomorrow  morning  before  eight  o'clock 
You  with  my  body  shall  meet. 

7  '  And  lay  my  Prayer-Book  at  my  head. 

And  my  grammar  at  my  feet. 
That  all  the  little  schoolfellows  as  they  pass 
by 
May  read  them  for  my  sake.' 

u 

Notes  and  Queries,  Eighth  Series,  II,  43,  July,  1842.    '  The 
Jew's  Daughter,'  communicated  by  Mr  C.  W.  Penny,  as 

VOL.  V.  31 


repeated  to  his  brother,  the  vicar  of  Stixwould,  Lincolnshire, 
by  one  of  the  oldest  women  in  the  parish.  "  A  song  sung  by 
his  nurse  to  a  Lincolnshire  gentleman,  now  over  sixty  years 
of  age." 

1  You  toss  your  ball  so  high, 

You  toss  your  ball  so  low. 
You  toss  your  ball  into  the  Jew's  garden, 
Where  the  pretty  flowers  grow. 

2  Out  came  one  of  the  Jew's  daughters. 

Dressed  all  in  green : 
*  Come  hither,  pretty  little  dear. 
And  fetch  your  ball  again.' 

3  She  showed  him  a  rosy-cheeked  apple, 

She  showed  him  a  g^ay  gold  ring, 
She  showed  him  a  cherry  as  red  as  blood, 
And  that  enticed  him  in. 

4  She  set  him  in  a  golden  chair, 

She  gave  him  kisses  sweet. 
She  threw  him  down  a  darksome  well, 
More  than  fifty  feet  deep. 

166.  Queen  Eleanor's  Confession. 

P.  259.     B,     Here  given  as  it  stands  in  "  The  Old 
Lady's  Collection,"  No  6. 

1  Our  quin  's  seek,  an  very  seek, 

She 's  seek  an  leak  to  dee. 
An  she  has  sent  for  the  friears  of  France, 
To  speak  we  her  spedely. 

2  '  Ye  '11  pit  on  a  frier's  robe, 

An  I  '11  put  one  anether. 
An  we  '11  goo  to  madam  the  Quin, 
Leak  frayers  bath  together.* 

8  '  God  forbid,'  sayes  Earl  Marchell, 
*  That  ever  the  leak  sud  be. 
That  I  sud  begide  madam  the  Quin  ; 
I  wad  be  hanged  hei.' 


The  King  suar  by  the  croun  an  the  septer  roun 
Eearl  Marchell  sudne  del. 

5  The  king  pat  on  a  frier's  rob, 

Eearl  Marchell  on  anether, 
The  'r  on  to  the  Quin, 
Like  frayers  bath  together. 

6  *  Gin  ye  be  the  frayers  of  France,'  she  says, 

'  As  I  trust  wiell  ye  be, 
Bat  an  ye  be  ony  eather  men  ^ 

Ye  sail  be  hanged  he.' 


242 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


7  The  king  he  turned  him  roun, 

An  by  his  troth  suare  he, 
'  We  ha  na  sung  masse 
San  we  came  fra  the  sea.' 

8  '  The  first  sin  ever  I  did, 

An  a  very  grat  sin  it  was  tee, 
I  gaa  my  medenhead  to  Earl  Marchell, 
Below  a  green-wood  tree.' 

9  '  That  was  a  sin,  an  a  very  grate  sin, 

Bat  pardoned  it  man  be  ; ' 
'  We  menement,'  said  Earl  Marchell, 
Bat  a  heave,  heave  heart  had  he. 

10  '  The  nist  sin  ever  I  did. 

An  a  grat  sin  it  was  tee, 
I  pusned  Lady  Rosomon, 

An  the  King's  darling  was  she.* 

11  '  That  was  a  sin,  an  a  grat  sin, 

Bat  pardoned  it  may  be  ; ' 

*  We  menement,'  said  King  Henry, 

Bat  a  heave,  heave  heart  had  he. 

12  *  The  nist  sin  I  ever  did, 

An  a  grat  sin  it  was  tee, 
I  keepet  pusin  in  my  bosom  seven  year 
To  pusin  him  King  Henre.' 

13  '  That  was  a  sin,  an  a  grat  sin. 

Bat  pardoned  it  may  be  ; ' 

*  We  menement,'  sa[i]d  King  Henrie, 

Bat  a  heave,  heave  heart  had  he. 

14  '  O  see  ye  na  yon  bony  boys. 

As  they  play  att  the  baa? 
An  see  ye  na  Earl  Merchal's  son? 
I  lee  him  best  of  all. 

15  'But  see  ye  na  King  Henry's  son? 

He  is  headed  leak  a  bull  an  baked  like  a  bore, 
I  leak  him  warst  of  a'  : ' 

*  An,  by  my  soth,'  says  him  King  Henry, 

*  I  leak  him  best  of  the  twa.' 

16  The  king  he  turned  him  roun, 

Pat  on  the  coat  of  goud. 
The  Quin  turned  her  roun, 
The  king  to  behald. 


17 


Gin  I  had  na  sworn  by  the  croun  an  the  septer  roun, 
Eearl  Marchell  sud  ben  gared  dee.' 

Written  without  division  into  stanzas  or  verses. 
22.  An  ye '11. 


157.  Qude  Wallace. 

P.  265.    From  C.   K.  Sharpe's  "first  collection," 
p.  18. 


"  An  old  song  shewing  how  Sir  Wm  Wallace  killed  thirty 
Englishmen."    This  copy  resembles  C. 

'  Decencey '  in  8^  is  the  reciter's  rendering  of  the  bencite 
(benedicite)  of  C  62. 

1  *  I  wish  I  had  a  king,'  brave  Wallace  he  said, 

*  That  every  brave  Scotsman  might  leave  by 

his  oun, 
For  between  me  and  my  sovreign  leige 
I  think  I  see  some  ill  [seed]  so  wen.' 

2  Brave  Wallace  out-oer  yon  river  he  lap, 

And  he  lighted  low  down  on  the  plain, 
And  he  came  to  a  gay  lady. 
As  she  was  at  the  well  washing. 

3  *  Some  tidings,  some  tidings,'  brave  Wallace  he 

said, 

*  Some  tidings  ye  most  tell  unto  me  ; 

Now  since  we  are  met  here  togither  on  the 
plain, 
Some  tidings  ye  most  tell  unto  me.' 

4  '  O  go  ye  down  to  yon  wee  ale-house, 

And  there  is  fifeteen  Englishmen, 
And  they  are  seeking  for  good  Wallace, 
And  him  to  take  and  him  for  to  hang.' 

5  '  I  wish  I  had  a  penny  in  my  pocket,'  he  says, 

*  Or  although  it  were  but  a  bare  baubee. 
And  I  wad  away  to  the  wee  ale-house, 

The  fifeteen  Englishmen  to  see.' 

6  She  *s  put  hir  hand  in  hir  left  pocket. 

And  fifeteen  shillings  to  him  she  told  down : 
*  If  ever  I  live  to  come  back  this  way, 
The  money 's  be  well  paid  agein.' 

7  He  louted  twafauld  oer  a  stick, 

And  he  louted  threefauld  oer  a  tree, 
And  he  'es  gane  awa  to  the  wee  ale-house. 
The  fifeteen  Englishmen  to  see. 

8  When  he  came  to  the  wee  ale-house. 

He  walked  ben,  says,  Decencey  be  there ! 
The  Engilish  proud  captain  he  awnsered  him. 
And  he  awnsered  him  with  a  graid  domi 
neer. 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


243 


9  '  Why,  where  wast  thou  horn,  thou  old  crooked 
carle  ? 
Where  and  of  what  country  ? ' 
'  I  am  a  true  Scotsman  bred  and  born. 
And  an  auld  crooked  carle,  just  sic  as  ye 
may  see.' 

10  '  I  wad  gee  j&f eteen  shillings,'  the  captain  he 

said, 
'  To  an  auld  crooked  carle,  just  sic  a  ane  as 
thee. 
If  ye  wad  tell  me  of  Willie  Wallace, 
For  he  's  the  man  I  wad  fain  see.' 

11  *  O  hold  your  hand,'  brave  Wallace  he  said, 

*  And  let  me  see  if  yeer  coin  be  good ; 
If  ye  wad  give  fif eteen  shillings  more. 

Ye  never  bade  a  better  boad.' 

12  He  's  tean  the  captain  out-oer  the  chaft-blade, 

Till  a  bitt  of  meat  he  never  did  eat  mair ; 
He  stickit  a'  the  reste  as  the  sat  aroun  the  table, 
And  he  left  them  all  a  spraulling  there. 

13  '  Get  up,  get  up,  good  wife,'  he  says, 

*  Get  up  and  get  me  some  denner  in  haste. 
For  it  is  now  three  days  and  nights 

Since  a  bit  of  meat  my  mouth  did  taste.' 

14  The  denner  was  not  well  made  ready, 

Nor  was  it  on  the  table  sett, 
Till  other  fifeteen  English  men 
Were  a'  perading  about  the  yett 

15  '  Come  out,  come  out  now,  Wallace,'  they  crys, 

'  For  this  is  the  place  ye  'es  sure  for  [to]  die ;  * 
'  I  lippen  not  sae  little  to  good,'  he  says, 
'  Although  I  be  but  ill-wordie.' 

16  The  goodman  ran  butt,  the  goodwife  ran  ben, 

They  put  the  house  in  such  a  fever  ! 
Five  of  them  he  sticket  where  they  stood, 
And  other  five  he  smoddered  in  the  gitter. 

17  Five  of  them  he  folowd  to  the  merry  green- 

wood. 
And  these  five  he  hangt  on  a  grain, 
And  gin  the  mom  at  ten  o'clock 

He  was  wi  his  mirry  men  at  Lochmaben. 

6^  15. 

8'.  Perhaps  we  should  read  be  here,  as  in  A 
10',  hut  other  copies  have  bad  .  .  .  there. 


arvA  it  is  likely  enough  that  there  is  a  con- 
fusion of  the  oblique  and  the  direct  form. 
14*.  a. 

265  b,  note  f.  '  Let  me  see  if  your  money  be  good, 
and  if  it  be  true  and  right,  you'll  maybe  get  the  down- 
come  of  Robinhood,'  from  a  recited  copy,  in  the  pre- 
face to  Finlay's  Scottish  Ballads,  I,  xv. 

168.  Hugh  Spencer's  Peats  in  France. 

P.  276.  What  is  narrated  of  Walter  in  the  Chroni- 
con  Novalese  is  likewise  told  of  Ogier  by  Alexander 
Neckam,  De  Naturis  Rerum,  ed.  T.  Wright,  p.  261  £f. 
(see  also  the  note  at  p.  Ivi),  in  a  copy  of  Turpin's 
Chronicle,  Ward,  Catalogue  of  Romances,  I,  579  f., 
and  (excepting  the  monastery)  in  La  Chevalerie  Ogier, 
ed.  Barrois,  V.  10390  £E.;  of  Heimir,  Saga  DitJriks  af 
Bern,  c.  429  ff.,  Unger,  p.  361  ff.;  and  in  part  in  the 
ballad  of  «  Svend  Felding,'  Grundtvig,  No  31,  I,  398. 
See  Grundtvig's  preface  to  No  15, 1,  216  ff. ;  Ward,  as 
above  ;  Voretzsch,  Ueber  die  Sage  von  Ogier  dem 
Danen,  p.  113  £f. 

161.  The  Battle  of  Otterburn. 

P.  289,  IV,  499.  From  C.  K.  Sharpe's  «'  first  collec- 
tion," p.  21.  Tradition  in  this  copy,  as  in  Herd's,  B, 
ascribes  the  death  of  Douglas  to  an  offended  and  treach- 
erous page. 

1  It  was  about  the  Lammes  time, 

When  moorland  men  do  win  their  hay, 
Brave  Earl  Douglass,  in  armer  bright, 
Marchd  to  the  Border  without  delay. 

2  He  hes  tean  wi  him  the  Lindseys  light, 

And  sae  hes  he  the  Gordons  gay, 
And  the  Earl  of  Fife,  without  all  strife. 
And  Sir  Heugh  Montgomery  upon  a  day. 

S  The  hae  brunt  Northumberland, 

And  sae  have  [the]  Northumbershire, 
And  fair  Cluddendale  they  hae  brunt  it  hale, 
And  he  's  left  it  all  in  fire  fair. 

4  Ay  till  the  came  to  Earl  Percy's  castle, 

Earl  Percey's  castle  that  stands  sae  high: 
•  Come  dowen,  come  dowen,  thou  proud  Percey, 
Come  down  and  talk  one  hour  with  me. 

5  '  Come  down,  come  down,  thou  proud  Percey, 

Come  down  and  talk  one  hour  with  me ; 
For  I  hae  burnt  thy  heritage. 

And  sae  will  I  thy  building  high. ' 

6  '  If  ye  hae  brunt  my  heritage, 

O  dule,  O  dule,  and  woe  is  me ! 


244 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


But  will  ye  stay  at  the  Otter  burn 
Untill  I  gather  my  men  to  me?  ' 

7*01  will  stay  at  the  Otter  burn 
The  space  of  days  two  or  three, 
And  if  ye  do  not  meet  me  there, 
I  will  talk  of  thy  coardie.' 

8  O  he  hes  staid  at  the  Otter  burn 

The  space  of  days  two  or  three ; 
He  sent  his  page  unto  his  tent-door, 
For  to  see  what  ferleys  he  could  see. 

9  '  O  yonder  comes  yon  gallent  knight, 

With  all  bonny  banners  high ; 
It  wad  do  ony  living  good 

For  to  see  the  bonny  coulers  fly.' 


10  'If  the  tale  be  true,'  Earl  Douglass 
'  The  tidings  ye  have  told  to  me, 
The  fairest  maid  in  Otterburn 
Thy  bedfellow  sure  shall  she  be. 


11  *  If  the  tale  be  false,'  Earl  Douglass  says, 

'  The  tidings  that  ye  tell  to  me, 
The  highest  tree  in  Otterburn, 
On  it  high  hanged  shall  ye  be.' 

12  Earl  Douglass  went  to  his  tent-door, 

To  see  what  ferleys  he  could  see  ; 
His  little  page  came  him  behind. 
And  ran  him  through  the  fair  body. 

13  *If  I  had  a  little  time,'  he  says, 

*  To  set  in  order  my  matters  high, 
Ye  Gordons  gay,  to  you  I  say, 
See  that  ye  let  not  my  men  away. 

14  '  Ye  Linseys  light,  both  wise  and  wight, 

Be  sure  ye  carry  my  coulers  high ; 
Ye  Gordons  gay,  again  I  say, 

See  that  ye  let  not  my  men  away. 

15  '  Sir  Heugh  Montgomery,  my  sistir's  son, 

I  give  you  the  vangaurd  over  all ; 
Let  it  neer  be  said  into  old  England 
That  so  little  made  a  true  Scot  fall. 

16  '  O  lay  me  dowen  by  yon  brecken-bush, 

That  grows  upon  yon  liley  lea  ; 
Let  it  neer  be  said  into  old  England 
That  so  little  made  a  true  Scot  die.' 

1 7  At  last  those  two  stout  knights  did  meet. 

And  O  but  they  were  wonderous  keen  ! 

The  foght  with  so  wards  of  the  temperd  steel. 

Till  the  drops  of  blood  ran  them  betwen. 


18  *  O  yeald  thee,  Percie,'  Montgomery  crys, 

'  O  yeaifL  ye,  or  I  '11  lay  the  low  ;  * 
*  To  whome  should  I  yeald?  to  whom  should  I 

yeald? 
To  whom  should  I  yeald,  since  it  most  be  so?  ' 

19  •  O  yeald  ye  to  yon  breckan-bush, 

That  grows  upon  yon  lilley  lea  ; 
And  if  ye  will  not  yeald  to  this, 
In  truth,  Earl  Percey,  I  '11  gar  ye  die.' 

20  '  I  will  not  yeald  to  a  breckan-bush. 

Nor  yet  will  I  yeald  to  a  brier  ; 
But  fain  wad  I  yeald  to  Earl  Douglass, 

Or  Sir  Heugh  Montgomery,  if  he  were  here.' 

21  O  then  this  lord  begun  to  faint, 

And  let  his  soward  drop  to  the  ground  ; 
Sir  Heugh  Montgomery,  a  courtious  knight, 
He  bravely  took  him  by  the  hand. 

22  This  deed  was  done  at  the  Otter  burn, 

Betwen  the  sunshine  and  the  day  ; 
Brave  Earl  Douglass  there  was  slain, 
And  they  carried  Percie  captive  away. 

6»,  71,  81,  221.  Otterburn. 

292  b,  2d  paragraph,  9th  line.  C  208-*  may  have 
been  supplied  by  Scott ;  not  in  Hogg's  copy.  See  IV, 
500,  St.  21. 

294,  520  a,  IV,  499.    St  George,  Our  Lady's  Knight. 

O  seynt  George,  oure  lady  knyght, 
To  that  lady  thow  pray  for  me ! 

Lydgate,  Kalendare,  vv.  113,  114,  ed.  Horstmann,  in 
Herrig's  Archiv,  LXXX,  121. 

O  blessyd  Lady,  Cristes  moder  dere. 
And  thou   Seynt   George,   that  called  art  her 
knyght  ! 

Fabyan's  Chronicles,  ed.  Ellis,  1811,  p.  601. 
(G.L.K.) 


162.  The  Hunting  of  the  Cheviot. 

P.  306,  IV,  502.  Fighting  on  stumps.  Agolafre, 
fighting  on  his  knees  after  his  legs  were  broken,  '  had 
wyj»  ys  axe  a-slawe  an  hep  of  frenschemen : '  Sir  Fe- 
rumbras,  v.  4603  £f.,  ed.  Herrtage,  The  English  Charle- 
magne Romances,  I,  143.  (The  French  text  does  not 
represent  him  as  fighting  on  his  knees  :  Fierabras, 
ed.  Kroeber  and  Servois,  1860,  v.  4878  ff.,  p.  147.) 
(G.  L.  K.) 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS. 


245 


163.  The  Battle  of  Harlaw. 

P.  317  a,  2d  paragraph.  Of  course  Sir  James  the 
Rose  and  Sir  John  the  Gryme  came  in  from  the  ballad 
of  '  Sir  James  the  Rose.' 


170.  The  Death  of  Queen  Jane. 

P.  372.     Communicated  by  Rev.   S.  Baring-Gould, 
as  recited  by  Samuel  Force.     ? 


>.  « 


164.  King  Henry  Fifth's  Conquest  of 
France. 

P.  323.    There  is  a  copy  ('  The  Battle  of  Agincourt ') 
in  C.  K.  Sharpe's  "first  collection,"  p.  29,  from  which 
some  variations  may  be  given, 
n.  2*.  And  bring  home  the  tribute  that 's  due  to  me. 
4^"*.  My  master  the  king  salutes  thee  well. 
Salutes  thee  well,  most  graciously  ; 
You  must  go  send,  etc. 
5^*.       And  darna  come  to  my  degree ; 

Go  bid  him  play  with  his  tenish  balls. 
For  in  French  lands  he  dare  no  me  see. 
7«»*.  Such  tidings  from  the  king  of  France 

As  I  'm  sure  with  him  you  can  ner  agree. 
8*.  He  bids  you  play  with  these  tenish  balls. 
10*.  They  were  a  jovial  good  company. 
After  10  : 

He  counted  oer  his  merry  men, 

Told  them  by  thirty  and  by  three. 
And  when  the  were  all  numberd  oer 
He  had  thirty  thousand  brave  and  three. 

12  The  first  that  fird,  it  was  the  French, 
Upon  our  English  men  so  free, 
But  we  made  ten  thousand  of  them  fall, 
And  the  rest  were  forc'd  for  there  lives  to  flee. 

13^.  Soon  we  entered  Paris  gates. 

132.  trumpets  sounding  high. 

13*.  Have  mercy  on  [my]  men  and  me. 

141.2,  Take  home  your  tribute,  the  king  he  says, 

And  three  tons  of  gold  I  will  give  to  thee. 

There  is  also  a  copy  in  "The  Old  Lady's  Collec- 
tion," No  7,  but  it  is  not  worth  collating. 

167.  Sir  Andrew  Barton. 

P.  338  b,  IV,  502  b.  Gold  to  bury  body.  Apol- 
lonius  of  Tyre.  So  in  Grower,  Confessio  Amantis, 
bk.  viii,  ed.  Pauli,  III,  312;  in  the  English  prose 
Kynge  Apollyn  of  Thyre,  Wynkyn  de  Worde,  1510, 
c.  19,  fol.  48,  of  Ashbee's  fac-simile,  1870  ;  in  the  Ger- 
man prose  AppoUonius  Tyrus  and  Appolonius  von 
Tiria,  C.  Schroder,  Griseldis,  ApoUonius  von  Tyrus, 
aus  Handschriften  herausg.,  pp.  46,  110,  Leipzig,  1873. 
(G.  L.  K.) 


1  Queen  Jane,  O !  Queen  Jane,  O !  what  a  lady 

was  she ! 
And  six  weeks  and  a  day  in  labour  was  she  ; 
Queen  Jane  was  in  labour  for  six  weeks  and 

more, 
Till  the  women  grew  weary  and  fain  would 

give  oer. 

2  *  O  women,  0  women,  good  wives  as  ye  be, 
Go  send  for  King  Henry  and  bring  him  to  me.' 
King  Henry  was  sent  for,  and  to  her  he  came  : 

*  Dear  lady,  fair  lady,  your  eyes  they  look  dim.' 

3  King  Henry  came  to  her,  he  came  in  all  speed, 
In  a  gown  of  red  velvet,  from  the  heel  to  the 

head: 
'  King  Henry,  King  Henry,  if  kind  you  will  be, 
Send  for  a  good  doctor,  and  let  him  come  to 

me.' 

4  The  doctor  was  sent  for,  he   came  with  all 

speed, 
In  a  gown  of  black  velvet  from  the  heel  to  the 

head ; 
The  doctor  was  sent  for  and  to  her  he  came : 

*  Dear  lady,  fair  lady,  your  labour 's  in  vain.' 

5  '  Dear  doctor,  dear  doctor,  will  you  do  this 

for  me  ? 

0  open  my  right  side,  and  save  my  baby : ' 
Then  out  spake  King  Henry,  That  never  can 

be, 

1  'd  rather  lose  the  branches  than  the  top  of 

the  tree. 

6  The  doctor  gave  a  caudle,  the  death-sleep  slept 

she, 
Then  her  right  side  was  opened  and  the  babe 

was  set  free ; 
The  babe  it  was  christened,  and  put  out  and 

nursd, 
But  the  royal  Queen  Jane  lay  cold  in  the  dust. 


246 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


Macmath  MS .,  p.  99.  Received  November,  1892,  from  the 
recitation  of  Mary  Cochrane  (Mrs  Joseph  Garmory),  Abbey- 
yard,  Crossmichael,  Kirkcudbrightshire.  Written  down  by 
her  husband. 


1  Queen  Jeanie  was  in  labor  for  seven  weeks  in 

summer, 
The  women  all  being  tired  and  quite  gave  her 
over: 

*  0  women,  dear  women,  if  women  you  be, 
Send  for  my  mother  to  come  and  see  me.' 

2  Her  mother  was  sent  for  and  instantly  came, 
Knelt  down  at  the  bedside  where  Queen  Jeanie 

lay  on : 

*  0  mother,  dear  mother,  if  mother  you  be, 
Send  for  my  father  to  come  and  see  me.' 

3  The  father  was  sent  for  and  instantly  came. 
Knelt  down  by  the  bedside  where  Queen  Jeanie 

lay  on : 
'  0  father,  dear  father,  if  father  you  be. 
Send  for  King  Henry  to  come  and  see  me.* 

4  King  Henry  was  sent  for  and  instantly  came, 
Knelt  down  by  the  bedside  where  Queen  Jeanie 

lay  on : 
'  0  Henry,  King  Henry,  if  Henry  you  be, 
Send  for  the  doctor  to  come  and  see  me.* 

5  The  doctor  was  sent  for  and  instantly  came. 
Knelt  down  by  the  bedside  where  Queen  Jeanie 

lay  on : 
'  O  doctor,  dear  doctor,  if  doctor  you  be. 
Open  my  left  side  and  let  the  babe  free.' 

6  Her  left  side  was  opened,  the  young  prince  was 

found  : 
'  0  doctor,  dear  doctor,  lay  me  down  on  the 
ground.' 

7  Her  bones  were  all  broken  and  laid  at  her  feet, 
And  they  anointed  her  body  with  the  ointment 

so  sweet. 
And  ay  as  they  weeped  they  wrung  their  hands 

sore. 
For  the  fair  flower  of  England  will  flourish  no 

more. 


173.  Mary  Hamilton. 

P.  379.  Stanzas  1,  2, 10  of  C  are  printed  in  Mother- 
well's Minstrelsy,  p.  315,  and  4,  9  of  L  at  p.  316. 

380  a,  line  13.     Say  Stewart,  or  Stewart. 

384.  A  a.  Found  in  a  small  MS.  volume,  with 
the  title  "  Songs  "  on  the  cover,  entirely  in  Sharpe's 
handwriting,  p.  29.  The  only  variations,  besides  a  few 
in  spelling,  are  these  : 

91.  stairs.     1 78.  the  night 's.     IS^.  they '1. 

389.  F.  This  version  was  rendered  by  Skene  with 
comparative  fidelity.  Still,  the  original,  *  Quin  Mary's 
Marreys,'  No  12  of  "  The  Old  Lady's  Collection,"  would 
of  course  have  been  given  if  it  had  been  in  hand,  and 
should  be  substituted,  opportunity  occurring.  It  is 
therefore  printed  here. 

1  *  My  father  was  the  Duck  of  York, 

My  mother  a  lady  frie, 

My  sell  a  dainnty  damisall, 

Quin  Mary  sent  for  me. 

2  '  The  quin's  meat  it  was  so  suit, 

An  her  clething  was  sae  rair. 
It  made  me  lang  for  Suit  Willie's  bed. 
An  I  ill  rue  it  ever  mare. 

3  '  Mary  Beeten,  an  Mary  Sitton, 

An  Lady  Livenston,  a'  three. 
We  '11  never  mett  in  Quin  Mary's  hour  nou, 
Marrys  tho  we  be.' 

4  Quin  Mary  satt  in  her  hour, 

Suing  her  selver  seam  ; 
She  thought  she  hard  a  baby  greet 
Bat  an  a  lady  mean. 

5  She  throu  her  neddel  frae  her, 

Her  seam  out  of  her  han, 
An  she  is  on  to  Lady  Marry 's  hour, 
As  fast  as  she  could  gang. 

6  •  Open  yer  dor,  Lady  Mary,'  she  says, 

'  An  lat  me  come  in  ; 
For  I  hear  a  baby  greet, 
Bat  an  a  lady  meen.' 

7  *  Ther  is  nae  bab  in  my  hour,  madam  the  Quin, 

Nor  never  thinks  to  be, 
Bat  the  strong  pains  of  gravell 
This  night  has  sesed  me.' 

8  She  paat  her  fitt  to  the  dor. 

Bat  an  her  knee, 
Bolts  of  brass  an  irn  bands 
In  flinders  she  gart  flee. 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


247 


9  She  pat  a  ban  to  her  bed-head 
A  nether  to  her  bed-feet, 
An  bonny  was  the  bab 
Was  blabring  in  its  bleed. 

10  '  Wae  worth  ye,  Lady  Mary, 

An  ill  dead  sail  ye  die ! 
For  in  ye  widne  keepet  the  bonny  bab 
Ye  might  ha  gen  't  to  me.' 

11  '  Lay  na  the  witt  on  me,  madam, 

Lay  na  the  witt  on  me, 
For  my  fals  love  bare  the  v[e]pan  att  his  side 
That  gared  my  bern  dee.' 

12  '  Gett  up,  Lady  Betton,  get  up.  Lady  Setton, 

An  Lady  Livenston,  three, 
An  we  will  on  to  Edenbrugh 
An  tray  this  gay  lady.' 

13  As  she  cam  in  the  Cannogate, 

The  burgers'   wives  they  crayed  hon,  ochon, 
ochree ! 

14  '  O  had  yer  still,  ye  burgers'  wives, 

An  make  na  mane  for  me  ; 
Seek  never  grace  out  of  a  graslass  face, 
For  they  ha  nan  to  gee. 

15  •  Ye  merchants  an  ye  mareners. 

That  trad  on  the  sea. 
Ye  dinne  tell  in  my  country 
The  dead  I  am  gaine  to  dee. 

16  *  Ye  merchants  an  ye  mareners, 

That  traid  on  the  fame, 
Dinne  tell  in  my  countray 
Bat  fatt  I  am  coming  hame. 

17  *  Littel  did  my  father  think. 

Fan  he  brouch[t]  me  our  the  sea, 
That  he  woud  see  my  yallou  lokes 
Hang  on  a  gallou-tree. 

18  *  Littel  did  my  midder  think, 

Fan  she  brought  me  fra  hame. 
That  she  maugt  see  my  yallou  lokes 
Hang  on  a  gallou-pine. 

19  « 

0  had  yer  ban  a  wee ! 
For  yonder  comes  my  father, 

1  am  sure  he  '11  borrou  me. 

20  *  O  some  of  yer  goud,  father, 

An  of  yer  well  won  fee. 
To  safe  me  [fra  the  high  hill], 
[An]  fra  the  gallage-tree.* 


21  '  Ye  's  gett  nane  of  my  goud, 

Ner  of  my  well  wone  fee, 
For  I  wead  gee  five  hundred  poun 
To  see  ye  hanged  bee.' 

22  * 

O  had  yer  ban  a  wee ! 
Yonder  is  my  love  Willie, 
He  will  borrou  me. 

23  *  O  some  of  yer  goud,  my  love  Wille, 

An  some  of  yer  well  wone  fee. 
To  save  me  fraa  the  high  hill. 
An  fraie  the  gallou-tree.' 

24  '  Ye  's  gett  a'  my  goud. 

An  a'  my  well  won  fee. 
To  save  ye  fra  the  heading-hill. 
An  fra  the  galla-tree.' 


4^.  Perhaps  silver. 
71.  nae.     11*.  watt. 


68.  lady  greet :  cf.  4*. 

118.  vpan?     231.  son  Wille. 


392  a,  H  8*.  The  nine.  '*  Anciently  the  supreme 
criminal  court  of  Scotland  was  composed  of  nine 
members."  Kinloch's  note,  Ancient  Scottish  Ballads, 
p.  259.     This  may  afford  a  date. 

I.  b.  The  three  stanzas  were  given  as  written  down 
from  memory  by  Finlay  :  see  VIH,  507  b. 

174.  Baxl  Bothwell. 

The  following  entry  in  the  Stationers'  Registers  may 
refer  to  this  ballad:  "  24  March,  1579,  Thomas  Gosson. 
Receaved  of  him  for  a  ballad  concerninge  the  murder 
of  the  late  Kinge  of  Scottes."     Arber,  H,  349. 

178.  Captain  Car,  or,  Edom  o  Gordon. 
P.  423,  IV,  513. 


From  "  The  Old  Lady's  Collection,"  No  28,  '  Edom  of 
Achendoon.' 

1  It  fell  about  the  Martimas  time, 

Fan  the  wind  blue  loud  an  calld, 
Said  Edom  of  Gordon  to  his  men, 
We  man  dra  till  a  hall. 

2  *  An  fatten  a  hall  will  we  dra  tell, 

My  merry  men  a'  an  me  ? 
We  will  to  the  house  of  Rothes, 
An  see  that  gay  lady.' 


3  The  lady  louked  our  castell-wa. 
Beheld  the  day  ga  doun, 


248 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


An  she  saa  Edun  of  Gordon, 
Fase  Edom  of  Ach[en]doun. 

4  '  Gee  our  yer  house,  ye  gay  lady, 

Gee  our  yer  house  to  me ; 
The  night  ye  's  be  my  leall  leman, 
The  morn  my  lady  free.' 

5  '  I  winng  gee  our  my  bonny  house, 

To  leard  nor  yet  to  loun, 
Nor  will  I  gee  our  my  bonny  house 
To  fase  Edom  of  Achendoun. 

6  '  Bat  ye  gett  me  Cluny,  Gight,  or  Glack, 

Or  get  him  young  Lesmore, 
An  I  ell  gee  our  my  bonny  house 
To  ony  of  a'  the  four.' 

7  '  Ye 's  nether  gett  Cluny^  Gight,  nor  Glack, 

Nor  yet  him  young  Lesmore, 
An  ye  man  gee  our  yer  bonny  house, 
Winten  ony  of  a'  the  four.' 

8  The  ladie  shot  out  of  a  shot-windou. 

It  didne  hurt  his  head. 
It  only  grased  his  knee 


9  '  Ye  hast,  my  merry  men  a'. 
Gather  hathorn  an  fune. 

To  see  gin  this  lady  will  burn.' 

10  '  Wai  worth  ye,  Joke,  my  man ! 

I  paid  ye  well  yer  fee. 
An  ye  tane  out  the  quine-stane, 
Laten  in  the  fire  to  me. 

11  *  Wae  worth  ye,  Joke,  my  man ! 

I  paid  ye  well  yer  hair, 
An  ye  t[a]en  out  the  qunie-stane. 
To  me  laten  in  the  fire.' 

12  '  Ye  paid  me  well  my  meatt,  lady. 

Ye  paid  me  well  my  fee. 
Bat  nou  I  am  Edom  of  Gordon's  man. 
Mane  eather  dee  'd  or  dree. 

13  '  Ye  paid  me  well  my  meatt,  lady, 

Ye  paid  me  well  my  hire. 
But  nou  I  am  Edom  of  Gordon's  man, 
To  ye  mane  lat  the  fire.' 


14  Out  spak  her  doughter. 

She  was  bath  jimp  an  smaa ; 
'  Ye  take  me  in  a  pair  of  shets, 
Lat  me  our  the  castell-waa.* 

15  The  pat  her  in  a  pair  of  shets, 

Lute  her  oure  the  castell-waa ; 
On  the  point  of  Edom  of  Gordon's  lance 
She  got  a  deadly  f  aa. 

16  Cherry,  cherry  was  her  cheeks, 

An  bonny  was  her  eyen ; 


17  He  turned  her  about, 

'  I  might  haa  spared  that  bonny  face 
To  ha  ben  some  man's  delight. 

18  *  Chirry  is  yer  chik. 

An  boimy  is  yer  eayn  ; 
Ye  'r  the  first  face  I  ever  saa  dead 
I  wist  liveng  agen.' 

19  Out  spak  one  of  his  men, 

As  he  stad  by  a  stane  ; 

*  Lat  it  never  be  sade  brave  Edom  of  Gordon 

Was  dantoned  by  a  dame.' 

20  Out  spake  the  bonny  barn. 

It  sat  on  the  nurce's  knee ; 
'  Gee  our  yer  house,  my  mider  dear, 
The  reak  it  smothers  me.' 

21  *  I  wad  gee  a'  my  silks,'  she  says, 

'  That  lays  in  mony  a  fall, 
To  haa  ye  on  the  head  of  Mont  Ganell, 
To  gett  three  gasps  of  the  call. 

22  *  I  wad  gee  a'  my  goud,'  she  says, 

'  Far  it  lays  out  an  in. 
To  haa  ye  on  the  head  of  Mount  Ganill, 
To  get  three  gasps  of  the  wind.' 

23 that  gued  lord, 

As  be  came  fraa  the  sea, 

*  I  see  the  house  of  Rothes  in  fire, 

God  safe  my  gay  ladie ! ' 

15».  land. 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


249 


VOL.  IV. 
190.   Jamie  Telfer  of  the  Pair  Dodhead. 

P.  4.  I  am  now  able  to  give  the  unprinted  copy,  re- 
ferred to  in  the  Border  Minstrelsy,  in  which  the  Elliots 
take  the  place  assigned  in  the  other  version  to  the 
Scotts.  This  I  do  by  the  assistance  of  Mr  Macmath, 
the  present  possessor  of  the  manuscript,  which  was  for- 
merly among  the  papers  of  Charles  Kirkpatrick  Sharpe. 
The  hand  "  is  a  good  and  careful  one  of  about  the  be- 
ginning of  this  century,  with  a  slight  shake  in  it,  and 
probably  that  of  a  person  advanced  in  life."  Be  it  ob- 
served that  the  title,  in  this  case,  is  '  Jamie  Telfer  in 
the  Fair  Dodhead,'  signifying,  according  to  Scottish 
usage,  that  Telfer  was  tenant  simply,  whereas  'of 
would  make  him  proprietor. 

Hogg,  writing  to  Sir  W.  Scott  (Letters,  vol.  i,  No  44), 
says  that  'Jamie  Telfer,'  as  printed  in  the  Minstrelsy, 
differs  in  many  particulars  from  his  mother's  way  of 
giving  it.  Mrs  Hogg's  version  may  very  likely  have 
been  a  third  copy. 

In  this  version,  Telfer,  after  the  loosing  of  his  nolt 
and  the  ranshakling  of  his  house,  runs  eight  miles  to 
Branxholm,  to  seek  aid  of  Buccleugh,  who  refers  him 
to  Martin  Elliot,  to  whom,  and  not  to  himself,  Buc- 
cleugh affirms,  Telfer  has  paid  blackmaU.  Telfer,  as  in 
the  other  version,  runs  up  the  water-gate  to  Coultart 
Cleugh,  and  invokes  the  help  of  Jock  Grieve,  who  sets 
him  on  a  bonny  black  to  take  the  fray  to  Catlock  Hill, 
as  in  the  other  version  again.  Catlock  Hill  Mr  R.  B. 
Armstrong  considers  to  be  probably  Catlie  Hill,  marked 
in  Blaeu's  map  as  near  Braidlie.  It  was  occupied  by 
an  Elliot  in  1541.  At  Catlock  Hill  Martin's  Hab  sets 
Telfer  on  a  bonny  black  to  take  the  fray  to  Pricken- 
haugh,  a  place  which,  Mr  Armstrong  observes,  is  put  in 
Blaeu's  map  near  Larriston.  Auld  Martin  Elliot  is  at 
Prickenhaugh,  and  he  orders  Simmy,  his  son,  to  be  sum- 
moned, and  the  water- side  to  be  warned  (including  the 
Currers  and  Willie  o  Gorrenberry,  who  in  the  other  ver- 
sion, St.  27,  are  warned  as  owing  fealty  to  Scott ;  but 
an  Archibald  Eliot  is  described  as  "  in  Gorrenberrie  "  in 
1541,*  and  Will  Elliot  of  Gorrombye  was  concerned 
in  the  rescue  of  Kinmont  Willie  in  1596,  Sim  Elliot 
takes  the  lead  in  the  pursuit  of  the  marauders  which 
Willie  Scott  has  in  the  other  version,  and  like  him  is 
killed.  Martin  Elliot  of  Braidley  had  among  his  sons, 
in  1580,  a  Sym,  an  Arche,  and  a  Hob,*  and  was,  dur- 
ing a  portion  of  the  second  half  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, says  Mr  Armstrong,  perhaps  the  most  important 
person  of  his  name.f  This  Martin  Elliot  would  fit  very 
well  into  our  ballad,  but  that  he  should  be  described  as 
of  Prickenhaugh,  not  of  Braidley,  raises  a  difficulty. 

*R.  H.  Stodart,  Scottish  Arms,  1881,  II,  277,  276.    What 
is  there  said  of  Elliot  of  Braidley  was  mostly  communicated 
by  Mr.  R.  B.  Armstrong. 
VOL.  V.  32 


Braidley,  at  the  junction  of  the  Braidley  burn  with  the 
Hermitage  water,  is  well  placed  for  our  purposes  ; 
Prickenhaugh,  down  by  the  Liddel  water,  seems  rather 
remote. 

5,  582.     See  more  as  to  Dodhead  in  The  Saturday 
Review,  May  20,  1893,  p.  643. 


Jamie  Telfer  ik  the  Fair  Dodhead. 

1  It  f  eU  about  the  Martinmas, 

When  steads  were  fed  wi  corn  and  hay, 
The  Captain  of  Bewcastle  said  to  his  lads, 
We  '11  into  Tiviotdale  and  seek  a  prey. 

2  The  first  ae  guide  that  they  met  with 

"Was  high  up  in  Hardhaugh  swire, 
The  second  guide  that  they  met  with 
Was  laigh  down  in  Borthick  water. 

3  '  What  tidings,  what  tidings,  my  bonny  guide  ? ' 

'  Nae  tidings,  nae  tidings  I  hae  to  thee ; 
But  if  ye  '11  gae  to  the  Fair  Dodhead 
Mony  a  cow's  calf  I  '11  let  ye  see.' 

4  When  they  came  to  the  Fair  Dodhead, 

Right  hastily  they  clam  the  peel, 
They  loosd  the  nolt  out,  ane  and  a', 
And  ranshakled  the  house  right  weel. 

6  Now  Jamie's  heart  it  was  right  sair, 
The  tear  ay  rowing  in  his  eye ; 
He  pled  wi  the  Captain  to  hae  his  gear, 
Or  else  revenged  he  would  be. 

6  Bat  the  Captain  turnd  himsel  about, 

Said,  Man,  there  's  naething  in  thy  house 
But  an  auld  sword  without  a  scabbard, 
That  scarcely  now  would  fell  a  mouse. 

7  The  moon  was  up  and  the  sun  was  down, 

'T  was  the  gryming  of  a  new-f a'n  snaw ; 
Jamie  Telfer  has  run  eight  miles  barefoot 
Between  Dodhead  and  Branxholm  Ha. 

8  And  when  he  came  to  Branxholm  Ha 

He  shouted  loud  and  cry'd  well  he, 
Till  up  bespake  then  auld  Buccleugh, 

'  Whae  's  this  that  brings  the  fray  to  me  ?  ' 

t  Proceedings  of  the  Society  of  Antiquaries  of  Scotland, 
1880-81,  p.  93.  At  several  places  above  I  have  used  a 
letter  from  Mr.  Armstrong  to  Mr.  Macmath. 


250 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORKEOTIONS 


9  *  It 's  I,  Jamie  Telf  er  i  the  Fair  Dodhead, 
And  a  harried  man  I  think  I  be ; 
There  's  naething  left  i  the  Fair  Dodhead 
But  only  wife  and  children  three.' 

10  *  Gae  seek  your  succour  frae  Martin  Elliot, 

For  succour  ye  's  get  nane  frae  me  ; 
Gae  seek  your  succour  where  ye  paid  black- 
mail, 
For,  man,  ye  never  paid  money  to  me.' 

11  Jamie  he  's  turnd  him  round  about. 

And  ay  the  tear  blinded  his  eye  : 
'  I  'se  never  pay  mail  to  Scott  again. 
Nor  the  Fair  Dodhead  I  '11  ever  see.' 

12  Now  Jamie  is  up  the  water-gate, 

Een  as  fast  as  he  can  drie, 
Till  he  came  to  the  Coultart  Cleugh, 

And  there  he  shouted  and  cry'd  weel  he. 

13  Then  up  bespake  him  auld  Jock  Grieve, 

'  Whae  's  this  that  bring[s]  the  fray  to  me  ? ' 
'  It 's  I,  Jamie  Telfer  i  the  Fair  Dodhead, 
And  a  harried  man  I  think  I  be. 

14  '  There  's  naething  left  i  the  Fair  Dodhead 

But  only  wife  and  children  three. 

And  sax  poor  calves  stand  i  the  sta, 

A'  routing  loud  for  their  minnie.' 

15  '  Alack,  wae  's  me  ! '  co  auld  Jock  Grieve, 

'  Alack,  alack,  and  wae  is  me  ! 
For  ye  was  married  t'  the  auld  sister. 
And  1 1'  the  younges[t]  o  the  three.' 

16  Then  he  's  taen  out  a  bonny  black, 

It  was  weel  fed  wi  corn  and  hay, 
And  set  Jamie  Telfer  on  his  back. 
To  the  Catlock  hill  to  take  the  fray. 

17  When  he  came  to  the  Catlock  hill, 

He  shouted  loud  and  cry'd  weel  he  ; 
'  Whae 's  that,  whae  's  that  ?  '  co  Martin's  Hab, 
'  Whae  's  this  that  brings  the  fray  to  me  ?  ' 

18  '  It 's  I,  Jamie  Telfer  i  the  Fair  Dodhead, 

And  a  harried  man  I  think  I  be ; 
There 's  neathing  left  i  the  Fair  Dodhead 
But  only  wife  and  children  three.' 

19  '  Alack,  wae  's  me  ! '  co  Martin's  Hab, 

*  Alack,  awae,  my  heart  is  sair ! 


I  never  came  bye  the  Fair  Dodhead 
That  ever  I  faund  thy  basket  bare.' 

20  Then  he  's  taen  out  a  bonny  black, 

It  was  weel  fed  wi  corn  and  hay. 
And  set  Jamie  Telfer  on  his  back 

To  the  Pricken  haugh  to  take  the  fray. 

21  When  he  came  to  the  Pricken  haugh, 

He  shouted  loud  and  cry'd  weel  he ; 
Up  then  bespake  auld  Martin  Elliot, 

'  Whae  's  this  that  brings  the  fray  to  me  ? ' 

22  '  It 's  I,  Jamie  Telfer  i  the  Fair  Dodhead, 

And  a  harried  man  I  think  I  be  ; 
There  's  naething  left  i  the  Fair  Dodhead 
But  only  wife  and  children  three.' 

23  '  Ever  alack  ! '  can  Martin  say, 

'  And  ay  my  heart  is  sair  for  thee ! 
But  fy,  gar  ca  on  Simmy  my  son, 
And  see  that  he  come  hastily. 

24  '  Fy,  gar  warn  the  water-side. 

Gar  warn  it  soon  and  hastily  ; 
Them  that  winna  ride  for  Telfer's  kye, 
Let  them  never  look  i  the  face  o  me. 

25  '  Gar  warn  the  water,  braid  and  wide. 

And  warn  the  Currers  i  the  shaw  ; 
When  ye  come  in  at  the  Hermitage  slack, 
Warn  doughty  Willie  o  Gorrenberry.' 

26  The  gear  was  driven  the  FrostUy  up. 

From  the  Frostily  into  the  plain ; 
When  Simmie  looked  him  afore. 
He  saw  the  kye  right  fast  driving. 

27  'Whae    drives   the   kye,'    then   Simmy    can 

say, 
'  To  make  an  outspeckle  o  me  ?  ' 
'  It 's  I,  the  Captain  o  Bewcastle,  Simmy, 
I  winna  lain  my  name  frae  thee.' 

28  '  O  will  ye  let  the  gear  gae  back  ? 

Or  will  ye  do  ony  thing  for  me  ? ' 
'  I  winna  let  the  gear  gae  back, 

Nor  naething,  Simmy,  I  '11  do  for  the[e]. 

29  '  But  I  '11  drive  Jamie  Telfer's  kye 

In  spite  o  Jamie  Telfer's  teeth  and  thee  ;  * 
'  Then  by  my  sooth,'  can  Simmy  say, 
'  I  '11  ware  my  dame's  calfskin  on  thee. 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


251 


30  '  Fa  on  them,  lads ! '  can  Simmy  say, 

'  Fy,  fa  on  them  cruelly ! 
For  or  they  win  to  the  Ritter  ford 
Mony  toom  saddle  there  shall  be.' 

31  But  Simmy  was  striken  oer  the  head. 

And  thro  the  napskape  it  is  gane. 
And  Moscrop  made  a  dolefull  rage 
When  Simmy  on  the  ground  lay  slain. 

32  '  Fy,  lay  on  them  ! '  co  Martin  Elliot, 

'  Fy,  lay  on  them  cruelly  ! 
For  ere  they  win  to  the  Kershop  ford 
Mony  toom  saddle  there  shall  be.' 

33  John  o  Biggam  he  was  slain, 

And  John  o  Barlow,  as  I  heard  say. 
And  fifteen  o  the  Captain's  men 

Lay  bleeding  on  the  ground  that  day. 

34  The  Captain  was  shot  through  the  head, 

And  also  through  the  left  ba-stane ; 
Tho  he  had  livd  this  hundred  years, 
He  'd  neer  been  loed  by  woman  again. 

35  The  word  is  gane  unto  his  bride, 

Een  in  the  bower  where  she  lay. 
That  her  good  lord  was  in  's  enemy's  land 
Since  into  Tiviotdale  he  led  the  way. 

36  *  I  loord  a  had  a  winding  sheed 

And  helpd  to  put  it  oer  his  head. 
Or  he  'd  been  taen  in  's  enemy's  lands, 
Since  he  oer  Liddle  his  men  did  lead.* 

37  There  was  a  man  in  our  company, 

And  his  name  was  Willie  WudSspurs : 
'  There  is  a  house  in  the  Stanegarside, 
If  any  man  will  ride  with  us.' 

38  When  they  came  to  the  Stanegarside, 

They  bangd  wi  trees  and  brake  the  door. 
They  loosd  the  kye  out,  ane  and  a', 
And  set  them  furth  our  lads  before. 

39  There  was  an  auld  wif  ayont  the  fire, 

A  wee  bit  o  the  Captain's  kin  : 
*  Whae  loo[s]es  out  the  Captain's  kye. 

And  sae  mony  o  the  Captain's  men  wi[t]hin ? * 

40  *  I,  Willie  Wudespurs,  let  out  the  kye, 

I  winna  lain  my  name  frae  thee, 
And  I  '11  loose  out  the  Captain's  kye 
In  spite  o  the  Captain's  teeth  and  thee.' 


41  Now  on  they  came  to  the  Fair  Dodhead, 
They  were  a  welcome  sight  to  see, 
And  instead  of  his  ain  ten  milk-kye 
Jamie  Telfer  's  gotten  thirty  and  three. 

16».  feel  fed :  cf.  201 
196.  Lord  Maxwell's  Last  Goodnight. 


P.  34  b,  525  a. 
Glenriddell  MS. 
of  a  copyist. 


B.     The  ballad  has  no  title  in  the 
The  table  of  contents  was  the  work 


196.  The  Fire  of  Frendraught. 

P.  39  b.  Thirteen  stanzas  of  C  are  given,  in  the 
course  of  an  article  on  The  Burning  of  the  House  of 
Frendraucht,  in  the  Aberdeen  Magazine,  1832,  II,  561. 
P.  44.  A  a.  Collation  with  Sharpe's  MS.  and  with 
another  copy  of  the  same  pieces  in  "  North  Country 
Ballads,"  Miscellanea  Curiosa,  Abbotsford  Library. 
4^  Well,  turn.     12^  were. 

15*.  Let  Rothiemay  may  ly,  may  ly.    But  Rothie- 
may  lie,  loritten  under,  probably  as  an  emendation 
by  Sharpe  (not  in  Scott). 
16*.  Turn  in  Scott,  an  easy  misreading  o/"Twin. 
26^.  Ahon.     With  a  few  slight  differences  of  spell- 
ing. 
we  in  9^  is  a  misprint  for  he. 
IV,  522  a.     The  Satyr  begins  : 

O  world  of  woes,  O  greif  of  griefs,  to  see 

This  damned  den  wher  sure  brave  sp'rits  did  dye. 

197.  James  Grant. 

These  verses  occur  in  a  manuscript  collection  of  C. 
K.  Sharpe's  ("  second  collection  "  ),  with  slight  verbal 
differences.  They  are  written  in  long  lines  not  divided 
into  stanzas.  Sir  W.  Scott  remarks,  Sharpe's  Ballad 
Book,  1880,  p.  145,  '*  I  conceive  Ballindalloch,  being 
admitted  by  Grant,  set  upon  him,  and  that  there  should 
be  asterisks  between  the  fourth  line  [the  second  stanza] 
and  those  which  follow." 

1^.  Away,  away  now,  James  the  Grant. 

12,  You'll.     1*.  For  Ballendalloch  is  at  your  gate. 

21.*.  Badendalloch.     22.  Nor  L 

2».  Set  up  my  gat  both.     2*.  And  let. 

S\  James  the.     3*.  no  get  so. 

4'.  he  get  but  one  mile  in  the  highland  hUl. 

4*.  defy  the. 

198.  Bonny  John  Seton. 

P.  52.  A.  Found  in  a  MS.  of  Charles  Kirkpatrick 
Sharpe,  and  in  "  North  Country  Ballads,"  Miscellanea 


252 


ADDITIONS  AND   CORRECTIONS 


Curiosa,  Abbotsford  Library  (another  copy  of  the  same 
pieces),  with  the  following  variations. 
Sharps.    1^.  The  Southeron  lords  to. 

2^.  And  bonny  :  Pitmedden,  and  always.     2^.  bald. 

2*.  And  the.    3^.  Sat  on.    5^.  Cried,  Brave  soldiers. 

5^.  my  steed  back.     5^  But  let  me  never  see  thee. 

68.  And  his. 

7*.  That  dang  Pitmedden's  middle  in  three. 

8^.2.  rade. 

88.  But  bonny  John  Seton  of  Pitmedden. 

91.  Then  up  it  came  a.     9^.  from  Drimmorow. 

98.  Says,  There  thou  lies.     9*.  ride  thee  thorow. 

10^.  Craigyvar  (always)  :  man.     10^.  your  fiddle. 

108.  land.     12^  They  've  taken.     14*.  ring. 

151.  For  cannons  roars  :  summer's. 

152.  Like  thunder.     15*.  cannons  fair. 
Scott  (also).  —  3^.  lands. 

None  of  the  readings  in  Aytoun  given  in  the  notes  at 
p.  53  were  derived  from  Sharpens  copy  except 
A  8*,  and  all  of  them  may  now  be  dropped. 

199.  The  Bonnie  House  o  Airlie. 

P.  56.  In  a  small  MS.  volume  with  the  title  "  Songs  " 
on  the  cover,  entirely  in  Sharpe's  handwriting.  A  a 
is  found  at  p.  24  (with  some  variations,  undoubtedly 
arbitrary)  prefaced  with  these  words  :  "  This  song  [re- 
ferring to  a  copy  presently  to  be  given],  like  most 
others,  would  suffer  amendment :  here  follows  a  copy 
somewhat  improved.  I  have  availed  myself  of  a  frag- 
ment in  a  former  page  of  this  work,  and  introduced  a 
stanza  [9]  marked  *,  picked  up  in  Perthshire."  Had 
A  a  been  known  to  be  an  "  improved  "  copy,  it  would 
not  have  been  made  so  prominent. 

The  fragment  (of  slight  value)  was  "  from  the  reci- 
tation of  Miss  Oliphant  of  Gask,  now  Mrs  Nairn" 
(afterwards  Lady  Nairne).  It  is  (p.  21)  —  disregarding 
things  misunderstood  or  avowedly  added  : 

*  Come  down,  come  down,  my  lady  Ogilvie, 

Come  down,  and  tell  us  your  dower  :  ' 
'  It 's  east  and  west  yon  wan  water  side, 
And  it 's  down  by  the  banks  of  the  Airly. 

'  Had  my  lord  Ogilvie  been  at  hame, 

As  he  was  wi  King  Charlie, 
There  durst  nae  a  Campbel  in  a'  Argyle 

Avowd  to  the  plundering  o  Airly.' 

♦  Come  down,  come  down,  ye  lady  fair, 

Come  down,  and  kiss  me  fairly  :  ' 
'  I  wunna  come  down,  ye  fause  Argyle, 
If  ye  sudna  leave  a  standing  stane  in  Airly. 

The  unimproved  copy,  p.  22,  is  as  follows. 

1  It  fell  on  a  day,  and  a  bonny  summer  day. 
When  corn  grew  green  and  yellow, 
That  there  fell  out  a  great  dispute 
Between  Argyll  and  Airly. 


2  Argyll  has  raisd  an  hundred  men, 

An  hundred  men,  and  so  many, 
And  he  is  away  by  the  back  of  Dunkeld 
For  to  plunder  the  bonny  house  of  Airly. 

3  Lady  Margaret  looks  oer  her  bower-window, 

And  O  but  she  looks  weary  I 
And  there  she  spied  the  great  Argyll, 

Coming  to  plunder  the  bonny  house  of  Airly. 

4  '  Come  down,  come  down,  Lady  Margret,'  he  said, 

'  Come  down,  and  kiss  me  fairly  : ' 
*  O  I  will  not  kiss  the  great  Argyll, 
If  he  should  not  leave  a  standing  stone  in  Airly.' 

5  He  hath  taken  her  by  the  left  shoulder. 

Says,  Lady,  where  lyes  thy  dowry  ? 
'  It's  up  and  it 's  down  by  the  bonny  bank-side. 
Amongst  the  planting  of  Airly.' 

6  They  have  sought  it  up,  they  have  sought  it  down. 

They  have  sought  it  both  late  and  early. 
And  they  have  found  it  in  the  bonny  plumb-tree 
That  shines  on  the  bowling-green  of  Airly. 

7  He  hath  taken  her  by  the  middle  so  small, 

And  O  but  she  lookd  weary ! 
He  hath  laid  her  down  by  the  bonny  burn-side 
Till  he  hath  plunderd  the  bonny  house  of  Airly. 

8  *  If  my  good  lord  were  at  home  this  night, 

As  he  is  with  Prince  Charly, 
Nouther  you  nor  no  Scottish  lord 
Durst  have  set  a  foot  on  the  bowling-green  of 
Airly. 

9  *  Ten  bonny  sons  I  have  born  unto  him, 

And  the  eleventh  neer  saw  his  daddy ; 
Although  I  had  an  hundred  more, 
I  would  give  them  all  to  Prince  Charly.* 

58  c.  This  is  one  of  the  pieces  contained  in  "  The 
Old  Lady's  Collection,"  No  1.  The  differences  from 
Skene  (save  spelling)  are  as  follows  : 

3^.  ore  castell-waa.     3*.  an  his  three  hunded  men. 
4*>2.  Come   doun   the  stare.  Lady  Airly,  he  says, 

an  kiss  me  fairly. 
4*.  Altho  ye  live  no.     5^.  An  tell  fare  layes  yer. 
72.  Anheleed.     102(72).  his.     108(78).  Antho. 
10*  (7*).  I  wad  gie  them  a'. 

200.  The  Gypsy  Laddie. 

P.  66.  B  a.  A  copy  of  this  version  in  C  K.  Sharpe's 
papers,  "written  from  recitation  in  Nithisdale,  Novem- 
ber, 1814,"  shows  that  improvements  had  been  intro- 
duced by  two  hands,  one  of  them  Sharpe's,  neither  of 
them  the  writer's.  The  changes  are  of  no  radical  im- 
portance ;   simply  of  the  familiar  kind  which  almost 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


253 


every  editor  has,  for  some  reason,  felt  himself  called 
upon  to  make.  It  may  be  thought  that  they  are  no 
more  worth  indicating  than  they  were  worth  making, 
but  it  has  been  an  object  in  this  book  to  give  things 
exactly  as  they  were  delivered.  The  original  readings 
are  as  follows. 

1\  C  for  Cassilis  throughout,     l^.  so.     1*.  Till. 

2*.  cast.     3^.  to  wanting.     S^^.  give. 

8*.  rings  of  her  fingers.     4^'2.  you.     4'.  hilt  of. 

4*,  9*,  16*.  no  more.     6^-8.  Jackie. 

78,  8*.  farmer's  barn.     8^,  ll^.  most.     8*.  crae. 

9i'2.  O  wanting.     10^,  ll^,  148.  on  water. 

11^.  Many  a  time  have.     17*.  mother  bore  me. 

18^.  And  wanting. 

78. 


Communicated  to  the  Journal  of  The  Gypsy  Society,  II, 
85,  by  Mr  John  Sampson,  from  the  dictation  of  Lias  Robin- 
Bon,  a  Gypsy.  A  translation  into  Gypsy,  by  Robinson  and 
his  brothers,  is  given  at  p.  84  of  the  same. 

1  A  band  of  gypsies,  all  in  a  road, 

All  so  black  and  brawny,  oh 
Away  come  a  lady  all  dressed  in  silk, 
To  follow  the  roving  gypsies,  oh 

The  gypsies,  oh ! 

The  gypsies,  oh ! 
To  follow  the  roving  gypsies,  oh  ! 

2  Her  husband  came  home  at  ten  o'clock  of  night, 

And  asked  for  his  lady  fair ; 
The  servant  informed  him  very  soon 
She  had  gone  with  the  roving  gypsies. 

3  '  Saddle  to  me  my  bonny  gray  mare, 

Saddle  to  me  my  pony  ; 
I  will  go  where  the  green  grass  grow, 
To  find  out  the  roving  gypsies. 

4  *  Last  night  she  slept  in  a  fair  feather-bed. 

And  blankets  by  bonins  ; 
Tonight  she  sleeps  in  a  cold  shed-bam. 
Through  following  the  roving  gypsies. 

5  *Why  did  you  leave  your  houses  and  your 

lands  ? 
Why  did  you  leave  your  babies  ? 
Why  did  you  leave  your  decent  married  man. 
To  follow  the  roving  gypsies  ? ' 

6  '  What  cares  I  for  my  houses  and  my  lands  ? 

What  cares  I  for  my  babies  ? 
What  cares  I  for  my  decent  married  man  ? 
I  will  go  with  the  roving  gypsies.' 

I''.   Var,  and  bonny. 


From  a  small  MS.  volume,  "Songs,"  entirely  in 
C.  K.  Sharpe's  handwriting,  p.  32  (corresponding  to 
B  11,  D  6,  E  7.) 

Yestreen  I  rade  yon  wan  water, 

Wi  my  gude  lord  before  me ; 
The  day  I  maun  pit  down  my  bonnie  fit  and  wade, 

What  ever  may  come  oer  me. 

201.   Bessy  Bell  and  Mary  Gray. 

P.  76  a,  4th  paragraph,  1st  line.  The  date  1666  is 
corrected  to  1645  by  Cant  in  his  Errata. 

77,  In  the  small  MS.  volume,  "Songs,"  entirely 
in  C.  K.  Sharpe's  handwriting,  p.  26,  a  3  is  given 
"  from  the  Catalogue  of  the  Edinburgh  Exhibition  of 
Pictures,  1810  "  as  here,  excepting  that  in  the  second 
line  the  reading  is  (absurdly)  "  royal  kin." 

203.  The  Baron  of  Brackley. 

P.  79.  Fragment  from  Findlay  MSS,  I,  209,  derived 
from  Mrs  McKenzie,  Advie,  Morayshire. 

1  '  O  are  ye  sleepin,  haul  B[r]achlie,  or  are  ye  at 
hame? 
For  the  caterans  are  at  ye,  an  a'  your  kye  's  taen.' 


*  Ye  '11  fling  your  rocks,  lasses,  we  '11  fecht  them 

our  lane. 

3  « We  'U  fecht  them  an  fleg  them,  an  gar  them  rin 

hame. 
We  '11  stand  them  in  battle,  as  gin  we  were  men. 

4  *  There 's  four-an-twenty  milk-white  kine  in  Glen- 

tanner  free, 
In  the  parks  o  Glentanner  sae  fain 's  I  wad  be ! ' 

5  He 's  called  on  his  lady  to  give  him  his  gun  : 

*  I  'm  gaun  oot,  Katie,  but  I  '11  never  come  home.' 

6  She 's  a'  her  gates  wide  open  flung,  an  she  's  wel- 

comed them  in. 
An  she  sleeps  wi  the  villain  that  slew  her  baron. 

1\  Baulbachlie.    5^.  home  originally ;  altered  to  in. 
The  stanzas  have  been  arranged  by  the  light  of  A. 

87.    D,  as  it  stands  in  "  The   Old   Lady's  Collec- 
tion," No  25, '  The  Barron  of  BreachelL' 

1  *  Barron  of  Breachell,  are  ye  withen  ? 

The  sharp  sourd  is  att  yer  gate,  Breachell,  will 
gar  yer  blod  spine.' 

2  *  The  'r  at  yer  gate,  Brichell,  the  *r  nether  men 

nor  lads, 
Bat  silly  heard  widifaus,  we  belted  plaids. 


254 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


3  <0  if  I  had  a  man,'  she  says,  'as  it  louks  I  haa 

nean, 
He  widne  sit  in  the  house  an  see  my  kay  tean. 

4  '  Bat,  lasses,  tak  doun  yer  rokes,  an  we  will  defend,' 


5  '  0  kiss  me,  d[ea]r  Peggey,  an  gee  me  doun  my 

gun, 
I  may  well  gaa  out,  bat  I  ill  never  come  in.' 

6  Out  spak  his  brother,  says,  Gee  me  your  hand, 
I  [ill]  fight  in  your  cans  as  lang  as  I  may  stan. 

7  Fan  the  Barron  of  Brechell  came  to  the  closs, 
A  braver  barron  never  read  upon  horse. 


8 


*  I  think  the  silly  heard  widdefus  are  groun  fighten 


9  First  they  killed  an,  and  sayn  they  killed  tua, 
An  the  Barron  of  Brichell  is  dead  an  awa. 

10  They  killed  Sandy  Gordon,  Sandy  Gordon  of  the 

Knok, 
The  miller  an  his  three  sons,  that  lived  att  Glen- 
muke. 

1 1  First  they  killed  ane,  an  sayn  they  killed  tua. 
An  the  Barron  of  Brichell  is  dead  an  awaa. 

12  Up  came  Crigevar  an  a'  his  fighten  men  : 

'  Had  I  come  an  houre  sinner,  he  sudna  ben  slain.' 

13  For  first  they  killed  an,  an  sayn  they  killed  tua. 
An  the  Barron  of  Breachell  is  dead  an  awa. 

14  *  O  came  ye  by  Brechell,  lads?  was  ye  in  ther? 
Saw  ye  Peggie  Doun,  raving  her  hear?  ' 

15  *We  came  by  Breache[l],  lads,  we  was  in  ther  ; 
We  saa  Peggie  Doun,  curling  her  hear. 

16  'She  ate  we  them,  drank  we  them,  bad  them  come 

in 
To  her  haas  an  her  hours  that  had  slain  her  barron.* 

1 7  ♦  Come  in,  gentelmen,  ate  an  drink  we  me  *, 

Tho  ye  have  slain  my  barron,  I  ha  na  ill  well  att 
.    thee.' 

18  *  O  was  ye  att  Glenmuck,  lads?  was  ye  in  ther? 
Saa  ye  Catren  Gordon,  raving  her  hear? ' 

19  'We  was  att  Gleanmuck,  lads,  we  was  in  ther. 
We  saa  Catren  Gordon,  ravi[n]g  her  hear. 

20  *  We  the  tear  in  her  eay, 

Seven  beams  att  her  foot,  the  eaght  on  her  knee. 


21  They  killed  Peater  Gordon,  Peater  Gordon  of  the 

Knok. 
The  miller  an  his  three  sons,  that  lives  att  Glen- 
muck. 

22  First  they  killed  an,  an  sayn  they  killed  twa, 
An  the  Barron  of  Breachell  is  dead  an  awaa. 


208.  Lord  Derwentwater. 

P.  116  b.  Add  at  the  end  of  the  first  paragraph  : 
Robert  Patten,  The  History  of  the  Rebellion  in  the 
Year  1715,  4th  ed.,  1745,  p.  47. 

123.  From  "  The  Old  Lady's  Collection,"  second 
part,  p.  6. 


1  The  king  has  written  a  brod  letter, 

An  sealled  it  our  with  gould, 
An  sent  it  to  Lord  Darnwater, 
To  read  it  if  he  could. 

2  Whan  Lord  Darnwater  saa  the  letter, 

A  light  laughter  lough  he ; 
Bat  or  he  read  it  to  an  end 

The  tear  blinded  his  eye, 
An  sighan  said  him  good  Lord  Darnwater, 

I  am  near  the  day  to  del. 

3  Out  spak  his  lady, 

In  child-bed  wher  she  lay ; 
'My  d[ea]r  Lord  Darnweter,  what  is  to  be- 
com  of  me. 
An  my  young  f amely  ?  ' 

4  '  I  will  leave  my  young  f amely 

As  well  as  I  cane ; 
For  I  will  leave  to  my  lady 

The  third  part  of  my  land, 
An  I  will  live  to  my  e[l]dest  son, 

The  tua  part  of  my  land. 

5  '  An  I  wiU  live  to  my  eldest  daught[er] 

Five  thousand  pound  of  gold, 
An  I  will  live  to  my  second  daughter 
Three  thousand  pound  of  gold. 

6  '  Ye  saddel  to  me  my  littel  gray  horse, 

That  I  had  wont  to  ried ; 


7  The  first  stape  Lord  Darnwater  staped, 
He  stumbled  on  a  ston ; 
Said  Lord  Darnwater, 

I  f  eer  I  ill  never  come  home. 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


255 


8  When  he  came  to  fair  London  city, 
An  near  unt[o]  the  toun, 
'  A  trater  !  a  trater ! '  said  they, 
*  A  trator  we  see  ! ' 

9  *  A  trater  ? '  said  good  Lord  Darnwater, 

'  A  trator  I  nier  could  be, 
Unless  it  was  bringen  three  hundred  men 
To  fight  for  young  Jamie.' 

10  But  when  he  came  to  Tour  Hill 

Befor  him  came  a  bold  man, 


With  a  broad  aix  in  his  hand. 


11 


*  Hear  is  five  ginies  of  gold  an  my  green  velvet 
coat, 
For  to  be  your  fee.' 

12  '  Ye  nobels  all. 

Come  hear  to  see  me  die, 
An  ye  peopell  of  fair  Sco[t]land, 
Be  kind  to  my  family.' 

13  Lord  Darnuater  was  dumed  to  die,  to  die. 

Good  Lord  Darnwater  was  dumed  to  die. 

2^.  sigh  an.     2^  am  doubtful. 

4*,  5S  98.  3.    4^  will  live  twice.    4«,  5».  2. 

6S  11».  6.    7»,  9\  L.  D.    132.  Daruan  Water. 

314.  The  Braes  o  Yarrow. 


P.  160  ff.,  622  £E. 


s 


Findlay's  MSS,  1, 181 ;  The  Dowie  Dens o  Yarrow, "from 

Banffshire,  through  James  Milne,  Arbroath." 

1  There  lived  a  lady  in  the  South, 

Ye  would  scarcely  find  her  marrow  ; 
She  was  courted  by  nine  gentlemen 
An  a  ploughman-lad  f  rae  Yarrow. 

2  Ae  nicht  the  nine  sat  drinkin  wine 

To  the  lass  wha  had  nae  marrow, 
When  the  ploughman  swore,  the  they  were 
a  score 
He  wad  f  echt  them  a'  in  Yarrow. 

3  It 's  he  's  gane  ower  yon  high,  high  hill, 

And  doon  yon  glen  sae  narrow, 


An  there  he  saw  nine  armed  men, 
To  fecht  wi  him  in  Yarrow. 

4  *  There 's  nine  o  you  an  I  'm  but  ane. 

An  that 's  an  unequal  marrow. 
But  wi  this  gude  blade  and  powerfu  arm 
I  '11  lay  you  low  on  Yarrow.' 

5  It  *8  three  he  slew,  and  three  withdrew, 

And  three  lay  dead  on  Yarrow, 
But  in  behind  cam  her  brother  John, 
An  pierced  his  body  thorough. 

6  '  Gae  hame,  gae  hame,  you  f ause  young  man, 

An  tell  your  sister  sorrow, 
That  her  true-love  John  lies  dead  and  gone 
In  the  dowie  dens  o  Yarrow.' 

7  '  0  father  dear,  I  've  dreamed  a  dream, 

I  'm  feared  it  will  prove  sorrow ; 
I    dreamed    I    was    puin    the    heather-bells 
sweet 
On  the  bonny  braes  o  Yarrow.' 

8  '  O  daughter  dear,  your  dream  is  read, 

I  'm  feared  it  will  prove  sorrow ; 
Your  true-love  John  lies  dead  and  gone 
In  the  dowie  dens  o  Yarrow.' 

9  It 's  she  's  gane  ower  yon  high,  high  hill, 

An  doon  yon  glen  sae  narrow, 
An  there  she  saw  her  true-love  John 
Lyin  cauld  an  dead  on  Yarrow. 

10  She  washed  his  face  an  combed  his  hair, 

Wi  muckle  grief  an  sorrow, 
She  rowed  him  i  the  plaid  she  wore, 
In  the  dowie  dens  o  Yarrow. 

11  Her  hair  it  was  three  quarters  lang, 

The  colour  being  yellow ; 
She  tied  it  round  his  middle  sma, 
An  carried  him  hame  frae  Yarrow. 

12  *  O  daughter  dear,  I  pray  forbear, 

I  '11  wed  you  to  another  marrow ; 
I  '11  wed  you  to  some  fitter  match 
Than  the  lad  that  died  on  Yarrow.' 

13  '  O  father  dear,  you  hae  seven  sons, 

Should  you  wed  them  a'  to-morrow,, 
A  fairer  flower  never  grew  in  June 
Than  the  lad  that  died  on  Yarrow.' 


256 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


14  This  lady,  being  six  months  with  child 
To  the  ploughman  lad  of  Yarrow, 
She  fell  into  her  father's  arms 
An  died  wi  grief  on  Yarrow. 

5^  slew  should  of  course  be  wounded,  or  hurt, 
as  in  A  9\  B  9\  D  V,  B  S\  I  V,  K  1\ 
Q  6^'2. 

216.  Rare  Willie  drowned  in  Yarrow,  or, 
The  Water  o  Gamrie. 

P.  180.     D  stands  as  follows  in  "The  Old  Lady's 
Collection,"  No  10,  '  The  Water  of  Gamry.' 

1  *  Willie  is  fair,  an  Wille  's  rair, 

An  Wille  's  wondres  bonny, 
An  Wille  has  promised  to  marey  me, 
Gin  ever  he  marred  ony.' 

2  *  Ye 's  gett  Jeamie,  or  ye  's  gett  Jonny, 

Or  ye  's  gett  bonny  Piter  ; 
Ye 's  gett  the  walle  of  a'  my  sins, 
Bat  live  to  me  Wille  the  writter.' 

3  '  I  winne  ha  Jamie,  I  winne  ha  Jonny, 

Nor  will  I  ha  bonny  Peter  ; 
I  winne  ha  ony  of  yer  sins. 
In  I  gett  na  Willie  the  writter.' 

4  Ther  was  three  score  an  ten  brisk  young  men 

Was  boun  to  brid-stell  we  him. 


10 


*  A  rounin,  a  rouning,'  she  says, 

*  An  fat  means  a'  this  rouning? ' 

11  Out  spak  the  bonny  bried, 

Just  att  the  kirk  of  Gamrie  ; 
'  Far  is  the  man  that  was  to  gee  me  his  han 
This  day  att  the  kirk  of  Gamry  V 

12  Out  spak  his  breder  John, 

An  O  bat  he  was  sorry  ! 

*  It  fears  me  sair,  my  bonny  brid, 

He  slipes  our  sune  in  Gaamry.' 

13  The  ribbons  they  wer  on  her  hare, 

They  wer  thik  an  mony  ; 
She  rive  them  a',  late  them  doun  faa, 
An  she  is  on  to  the  water  of  Gamry. 

14  She  sought  it  up,  she  sought  it  doun, 

She  sought  it  braid  an  narrow, 
An  the  depest  pot  in  a'  Gamry, 
Ther  she  got  Suit  Willie. 

15  She  has  kissed  his  comly  mouth. 

As  she  had  don  befor,  O  : 

*  Baith  our  miders  sail  be  alike  sory. 

For  we  's  baith  slep  soun  in  Gamry.' 


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


5  *  Ride  on,  ride  on,  my  merry  men  a', 

I  forget  some  thing  behine  me ; 
I  [ha]  forgetten  my  mider's  blissing, 
To  boun  to  bridstell  we  me.' 

6  '  God's  blissing  an  mine  gae  we  ye,  my  son  Willie, 

A'  the  blissings  of  God  ga  we  ye  ; 
For  y  'er  na  an  hour  but  bare  ninten, 
Fan  y  'er  gain  to  meet  yer  Meggey.* 

7  They  road  on,  an  ferder  on, 

Till  they  came  to  the  water  of  Gamry  ; 
An  they  all  wen  safe  throu, 
Unless  it  was  Suet  Willie. 


P.  187.  A  is  now  given  as  it  stands  in  "The  Old 
Lady's  Collection,"  ♦  Glide's  Water,'  No  11.  It  will  be 
observed  that  19,  20  repeat  No  215,  D,  13,  14  (14,  15, 
of  the  copy  just  given). 

1  '  Ye  gie  corn  to  my  hors, 

An  meatt  to  my  man, 
For  I  will  gai  to  my  true-love's  gates 
This  night,  gin  I  can  wine.' 

2  *  O  stay  att  home,  my  son  Willie, 

This  a  bare  night  we  me  ; 

The  best  bed  in  a'  my  house 

Sail  be  well  made  to  the.' 


8  For  the  first  an  step  att  Willie's  hors  steped, 

He  steped  to  the  bridel  ; 
The  nixt  an  step  att  Wellie's  hors  steped, 
Toom  grue  Wille 's  sadle. 

9  They  rod  on,  an  forder  on, 

Till  they  came  to  the  kirk  of  Gamry, 


3  *  I  care  na  for  your  beds,  mider, 

I  care  na  a  pin  ; 
For  I  ill  gae  to  my  love's  gates 
This  night,  gin  I  can  wine.' 

4  *  O  stay,  my  son  Willie, 

This  night  we  me  ; 
The  best  hen  in  a'  mey  reast 
Sail  be  well  made  ready  for  the.' 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


257 


6*1  care  na  for  your  beans,  midder, 
I  care  na  a  pin  ; 
For  I  ull  gae  to  my  love's  gates 
This  night,  gin  I  can  wine.' 

6  *  Gin  ye  winne  stay,  my  son  Willie, 

This  a  bare  night  we  me, 
Gin  Claid's  water  be  dip  an  fue  of  flud. 
My  malicen  droun  ye  in.' 

7  He  road  up  yon  high  hill, 

An  doun  yon  done  den  ; 
The  roring  of  Clid's  water 

Wod  ha  flied  ten  thousand  men. 

8  *  O  spair  me,  Claid's  water. 

Spare  me  as  I  gaa  ! 
Make  me  yer  wrak  as  I  come  back, 
Bat  spare  me  as  I  gaa  !  * 

9  He  raid  in,  an  f order  in, 

Till  he  came  to  the  chin  ; 

An  he  raid  in,  an  forder  in, 

Till  he  came  to  dray  Ian. 

10  An  fan  he  came  to  his  love's  gates 

He  tirled  att  the  pin  : 
*  Open  yer  gates.  May  Meggie, 

Open  yer  gates  to  me. 
For  my  bets  is  fue  of  Claid's  water. 

An  the  rain  rins  on  a*  my  chine.' 

11  *I  ha  ne  loves  therout,'  she  says, 

*  I  haa  ne  love  theren ; 
My  true-love  is  in  my  arms  tua. 
An  nean  will  I  latt  in.' 


16  'Hey,  WilUe  !  an  hou,  Willie  ! 

An  Willie,  winne  ye  turn  agen  ?  * 
But  ay  the  louder  that  she  crayed 
He  read  agenst  the  wind. 

1 7  He  raid  up  yon  high  hiU, 

An  doun  yon  done  den, 
An  the  roring  that  was  in  Clid's  water 
Wad  ha  fleed  ten  thousand  men. 

18  He  raid  in 

Tell  he  came  to  the  chine, 
An  he  raid  forder  in. 
Bat  never  mare  came  out  agen. 

19  She  sought  him  up,  she  sought  him  doun, 

She  sought  him  braid  an  narrou ; 
In  the  depest  pot  in  a'  Claid's  water, 
Ther  she  gat  Suit  Willie. 

20  She  has  kissed  his  comly  mouth, 

As  she  had  den  afore  : 
'  Baith  our  midders  sail  be  alike  sorry. 
For  we 's  bath  slipe  soun  in  Clide's  water.' 

21  Ther  was  na  mare  seen  of  that  gued  lord 

Bat  his  hat  frae  his  head  ; 
There  was  na  mare  seen  of  that  gued  lady 
Bat  her  keem  an  her  sneed. 

22  Ther  mideers  went  up  an  doun  the  water, 

Saying,  Clayd's  water  din  us  wrong  ! 

10^  on  a. 

18*.  ther  follows  agen,  intended  perhaps  as  a  begin- 
ning of  21. 


12  *  Open  yer  gates,  Meggie, 

This  night  to  me. 
For  Clide's  water  is  full  of  flood. 

An  my  mider's  mallison  will  droun  me  in.' 

13  *  An  of  my  chambers  is  full  of  corn,'  she  says, 

'  Anether  is  full  of  hay, 
The  other  is  full  of  gentelmen. 
An  they  winne  remove  till  day.' 

14  Out  waked  her  May  Meggie, 

Out  of  her  drussie  dream  : 
'  I  dreamed  a  dream  nou  san  the  streen, 

God  read  a'  dreams  to  gued  ! 
That  my  true-love  Willie 

Was  staning  att  my  bed-feet.' 


217.  The  Broom  of  Cowdenknows. 

P.  195.  D  b.  Macmath  MS.,  p.  105 ;  from  the 
recitation  of  Mary  Cochrane  (Mrs  Garmory),  Abbey- 
yard,  Crossmichael,  August  12,  1893. 

1  Bonny  May  to  the  ewe-buchts  is  gane. 
To  milk  her  daddie's  yowes. 
And  aye  as  she  sang,  her  bonny  voice  it  rang 
Outoer  the  taps  o  the  knowes,  knowes, 
Outoer  the  taps  o  the  knowes. 


A  troop  o  noble  gentlemen 
Came  riding  merrily  by. 


15  'Nou  lay  still,  my  a  dather, 

An  keep  my  back  fraa  the  call ; 
It 's  na  the  space  of  haf  an  hour 
Sayn  he  gade  fra  your  hall.' 
VOL.  V.  33 


6  He  took  her  by  the  middle  sae  sma, 
And  by  the  green  gown  sleeve, 
And  he 's  laid  her  down  on  the  dewy,  dewy  ground, 
And  he  's  asked  no  man's  leave. 


268 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORBBOTIONS 


9  He 's  mounted  on  his  milk-white  steed, 
And  he  's  rode  after  his  men, 
And  all  that  his  merry  men  said  to  him 
Was,  Dear  master  ye  've  tarried  long. 

10  '  I  have  ridden  east  and  I  have  ridden  west, 

And  I  've  ridden  among  the  knowes, 
But  the  bonniest  lass  that  eer  I  saw 
Was  milking  her  daddie's  yowes.' 

1 1  She  's  taen  the  milk-pail  on  her  head. 

And  she 's  gane  singing  hame, 
And  all  that  her  father  said  to  her 
Was,  Dear  daughter,  ye  've  tarried  long. 

18  '  O  there  cam  a  tod  amang  my  yowes, 
An  a  waefu  tod  was  he  ; 
Afore  he  had  taen  my  wee  yowe-lamb, 
I  wad  rather  he  had  taen  ither  three.* 

15  It  happened  on  a  day,  and  a  bonny  summer  day, 

As  she  was  ca'in  in  her  father's  kye. 
The  same  troop  o  noble  gentlemen 
Came  riding  merrily  by. 

16  One  of  them  calls  out 

Lassie,  have  ye  got  a  man? 
She  turned  her  head  right  saucy  about, 
Saying,  I.'ve  got  ane  at  hame. 

17  *  Hold  your  tongue,  my  bonny  lass, 

How  loud  I  hear  ye  lee  ! 
Do  you  no  remember  the  caul  mirky  nicht 
When  ye  were  in  the  yowe-buchts  wi  me  ? ' 

18  He  's  ordered  one  of  his  merry  men 

To  licht  and  set  her  on  behind  him, 
Saying,  Your  father  may  ca  in  his  kye  when  he 
likes, 
For  they  '11  neer  be  ca'ed  in  by  thee. 

19  *  For  I  am  the  laird  o  the  Ochiltree  walls, 

I  have  fifty  ploughs  and  three, 
And  I  have  got  the  bonniest  lass 
In  a'  the  North  Countrie.' 


219.  The  Gardener. 

F.  212.  Rev.  S.  Baring- Gould  has  pointed  me  to  a 
printed  copy  of  this  ballad,  considerably  corrupted,  to 
be  sure,  but  also  considerably  older  than  the  traditional 
versions.  It  is  blended  at  the  beginning  with  a  "  Thyme  " 
song,  which  itself  is  apt  to  be  mixed  up  with  '  I  sowed 
the  seeds  of  love.'  The  second  stanza  is  from  the 
"  Thyme  "  song  ;  the  third  is  a  traditional  variation  of  a 
stanza  in  'I  sowed  the  seeds  of  love.*  (See  the  piece 
which  follows  this.)     The  ballad  begins  with  the  fourth 


stanza,  and  the  fifth  is  corrupted  by  being  transferred 
from  the  gardener  to  the  maid.  Mr  Baring-Gould  has 
lately  taken  down  copies  of  the  "  Thyme  "  song  in  the 
west  of  England.  See  one  in  Songs  and  Ballads  of 
the  West,  No  7,  and  the  note  thereto  in  the  preface  to 
Part  IV  of  that  work,  p.  xv  ;  also  Campbell's  Albyn's 
Anthology,  I,  40,  Bruce  and  Stokoe,  Northumbrian 
Minstrelsy,  p.  90,  and  Chappell's  Popular  Music,  p. 
521  f.  Rev.  S.  Baring-Gould  has  given  me  two  copies, 
one  from  recitation,  the  other  from  "  a  broadside  pub- 
lished by  Bebbington,  Manchester,  Brit.  Mus.,  1876.  d., 
A  Collection  of  Songs  and  Broadsides,  I,  264." 

Five  Excellent  New  Songs.     Edinburgh.     Printed  and 
sold  by  William  Forrest,  at  the  head  of  the  Cowgate,  1766.      ^ 
British  Museum,  11621.  b.  6  (8). 


1  The  wakeing  all  the  winter  night, 

And  the  tippling  at  the  wine, 
And  the  courting  of  a  bonny  lass, 
Will  break  this  heart  of  mine. 
Brave  sailing  here,  my  dear, 

And  better  sailing  there. 
Brave  sailing  in  my  love's  arms, 
O  give  I  were  there  ! 

2  I  had  a  bed  of  thyme, 

And  it  flourishd  night  and  day, 
There  came  by  a  squire's  son 
That  stole  my  heart  away. 
Brave  sailing,  etc. 

3  Then  up  comes  the  gardener- lad. 

And  he  gave  me  profers  free. 
He  gave  to  me  the  jully-flowers, 
To  clothe  my  gay  bodie. 

4  The  gardener  stood  in  his  garden. 

And  the  prim-rose  in  his  hand. 
And  there  he  spi'd  his  own  true  love, 
As  tight 's  a  willy  wand. 

6  '  If  he '11  be  a  lover  true,'  she  said,         jt . 
*  A  lover  true  indeed. 
And  buy  all  the  flowers  of  my  garden, 
I  '11  shape  to  thee  a  weed.' 
Brave  sailing,  etc. 

6  *  The  prim-rose  shall  be  on  thy  head. 

And  the  red  rose  on  thy  breast, 
And  the  white-rose  shall  be  for  a  smock, 
To  cover  thy  body  next. 
Brave  sailing,  etc. 

7  '  Thy  glove  shall  be  the  jully-flower. 

Comes  lockren  to  thy  hand. 


^/ 


-3 


h^ 


i 


,^'JISL 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


269 


8  « Thy  stockings  shall  be  of  the  thyme, 

Fair  maid,  it  is  a  pleasant  view ; 
Put  on,  fair  maid,  whenever  you  please, 
And  your  shoes  shall  be  of  the  rue.' 
Brave  sailing  here,  my  dear, 

And  better  sailing  there, 
And  brave  sailing  in  my  love's  arms, 
O  if  I  were  there  I 

9  '  Tou  shape  to  me,  young  man,'  she  says, 

'  A  weed  amongst  the  flowers. 
But  I  will  shape  to  you,  young  man, 
A  weed  amongst  the  flowers. 

10  *  The  hail-stones  shall  be  on  thy  head, 

And  the  snow  upon  thy  breast, 
And  the  east-wind  shall  be  for  a  shirt, 
To  cover  thy  body  next. 

11  *  Thy  boots  shall  be  of  the  tangle, 

That  nothing  can  betide. 
Thy  steed  shall  be  of  the  wan  water, 
Loup  on,  young  man,  and  ride.* 
Brave  sailing  there,  my  dear, 

And  better  sailing  here. 
And  't  is  brave  sailing  twixt  my  love's  arms, 
O  if  I  were  there  1 

Five  Excellent  New  Songs.  II.  The  New  Lover's 
Garland.    III.  The  Young  Maid's  Answer. 

5^  should  read,  If  thou  'It  .  .  he  said. 

5^  should  read  nearly  as  in  B  8',  Among  all. 

6*,  10*.     next  should  be  neist. 

7*.  grove.     7^'^,  81'*,  make  a  stanza. 

After  8 :  The  Young  Maid's  Answer,  printed  as 

No  3  of  the  Jive  songs. 
9\  to  be  a. 

S*-*  could  be  easily  corrected  from  A?*-',  B  IS*-*. 
11^.  stangle. 
11*  should  read  to  the  effect,  That's  brought  in  by 

the  tide. 

The  piece  which  follows  is  little  more  than  a  varia- 
tion of  *  I  sow'd  the  seeds  of  love '  (one  of  "  three  of 
the  most  popular  songs  among  the  servant-maids  of  the 
present  generation,"  says  Mr  Chappell :  see  a  tra- 
ditional version  of  the  song,  which  was  originally  com- 
posed by  Mrs  Habergham  towards  the  end  of  the  seven- 
teenth century,  in  Popular  Music,  p.  522  f.).  But  the 
choosing  of  a  weed  for  a  maid  from  garden-flowers  is 
here,  and  is  not  in  the  song.  It  will  be  observed  that 
the  maid  chooses  no  weed  for  the  gardener,  but  dies 
of  a  thorn-prick,  a  trait  which  is  found  in  neither  the 
song  nor  the  ballad. 

Taken  down  by  Rev.  S.  Baring-Gould  from  the  sing- 
ing of  Joseph  Paddon,  Holcombe  Burnell.  Printed, 
with  changes,  in  Baring-Gould  and  Sheppard's  Songs 


and  Ballads  of  the  West,  No  107,  Part  IV,  p.  60, 1891 
here  as  sung. 


r/M 


Dead  Maid's  Land. 

1  A  garden  was  planted  around 

With  flowers  of  every  kind, 
I  chose  of  the  best  to  wear  in  my  breast, 
The  flowers  best  pleased  my  mind. 

2  A  gardener  standing  by 

I  asked  to  choose  for  me ; 
He  chose  me  the  lily,  the  violet,  the  pink, 
But  I  liked  none  of  the  three. 

3  A  violet  I  don't  like, 

A  lily  it  fades  so  soon. 
Bat  as  for  the  pink  I  cared  not  a  flink, 
I  said  I  would  stop  till  Jane. 

(Vf  The  lily  it  shall  be  thy  smock, 
The  jonquil  shoe  thy  feet, 
Thy  gown  shall  be  of  the  ten-week  stock. 
Thy  gloves  the  violet  sweet. 

(^'  The  gilly  shall  deck  thy  head, 
Thy  way  with  herbs  I  '11  strew, 
Thy  stockings  shall  be  the  marigold, 
Thy  gloves  the  violet  blue.' 

6  '  I  like  not  the  gilly-flower, 

Nor  herbs  my  way  to  strew. 
Nor  stockings  of  the  marigold. 
Nor  gloves  of  violet  blue. 

7  *  I  will  not  have  the  ten-week  stock. 

Nor  jonquils  to  my  shoon. 
But  I  will  have  the  red,  red  rose 
That  flowereth  in  Jane.' 


8  '  The  rose  it  doth  bear  a  thorn 

That  pricketh  to  the  bone ; ' 
•  I  little  heed  what  thou  dost  say, 
I  will  have  that  or  none.' 

9  '  The  rose  it  doth  bear  a  thorn 

That  pricketh  to  the  heart ; ' 
'  O  but  I  will  have  the  red,  red  rose, 
For  I  little  heed  its  smart.' 

10  She  stooped  to  the  ground 

To  pluck  the  rose  so  red. 
The  thorn  it  pierced  her  to  the  heart. 
And  this  fair  maid  was  dead. 

11  A  gardener  stood  at  the  gate, 

With  cypress  in  his  hand, 
And  he  did  say,  Let  no  fair  may 
Come  into  Dead  Maid's  Land. 

A  fragment  in  Motherwell's  MS.,  obtained  from 
Widow  Nicol,  'It's  braw  sailing  here,'  p.  110,  has 
something  of  both  pieces  without  any  suggestion  of  the 
flower-dress.     ', 


260 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


1  It 's  braw  sailing  here, 

And  it 's  braw  sailing  there, 

And  it 's  braw  sailing  on  the  seas 

When  wind  and  tide  are  fair. 

2  It 's  braw  drinking  beer. 

And  it 's  braw  drinking  wine, 
And  it 's  braw  courting  a  bonnie  lass 
When  she  is  in  her  prime. 

3  O  the  gardener  sent  me  word, 

He  that  pued  the  rose  for  me. 
The  willow,  primrose,  the  red  rose, 
But  I  denied  all  three. 

4  The  willow  I  '11  deny, 

The  primrose  it  buds  soon, 
But  I  '11  chuse  for  me  the  red  rose, 
And  I  vow  it  '11  stand  till  June. 

5  In  June  my  red  rose  sprung, 

It  was  not  a  rose  for  me. 
So  I  '11  pull  the  top  of  my  red  rose, 
And  I  '11  plant  the  willow-tree. 

6  For  the  willow  I  must  wear. 

With  sorrows  mixed  amang, 
And  all  the  neighbours  far  and  near 
Say  I  luved  a  false  luve  lang. 

22.  braw  altered  to  better. 


221.  Katharine  Jaffray. 

P.  222.    E,  as  it  stands  in  "  The  Old  Lady's  Collec- 
tion," No  17,  '  Bony  Catrain  Jaffry.' 

1  Bonny  Catrain  Jaffrie, 

That  proper  maid  sae  fare. 

She  has  loved  yong  Lochinwar, 

She  made  him  no  compare. 

2  He  courted  her  the  live-lang  winter  night, 

Sa  has  he  the  simmer's  day  ; 
He  has  courted  her  sae  lang 
Till  he  sta  her  heart  away. 

3  Bat  the  lusty  lard  of  Lamerdall 

Came  fra  the  South  Countrey, 
An  for  to  ga[i]n  this  lady's  love 
In  intred  he. 


5  The  weding-day  it  being  sett. 

An  a'  man  to  it  boun. 
She  sent  for  her  first  fair  love. 
Her  wedding  to  come  to. 

6  His  father  an  his  mother  came, 

They  came  a',  but  he  came  no, 
It  was  a  fouU  play. 

7  Lochenwar  an  his  comrads 

Sat  drinken  att  the  wine; 
•  Faue  on  you ! '  sad  his  comrads, 
*  Tak  yer  bride  for  shame. 

8  *  Had  she  ben  mine,  as  she  was  yours. 

An  den  as  she  has  don  to  you, 
I  wad  tak  her  on  her  bridell-day 
Fra  a'  her  compinay. 

9  *  Fra  a'  her  compinay. 

Without  any  other  stay ; 
I  wad  gee  them  frogs  insted  of  fish. 
An  take  ther  bride  away.' 

10  He  got  fifty  young  men. 

They  were  gallant  an  gay, 
An  fifty  madens, 
An  left  them  on  a  lay. 

11  Fan  he  came  in  by  Callien  bank, 

An  in  by  Calline  bray, 
He  left  his  company 
Dancing  on  a  lay. 

1 2  He  came  to  the  bridel-house. 

An  in  entred  he  ; 


IS  '  Ther  was  a  young  man  in  this  place 
Loyed  well  a  comly  may. 
Bat  the  day  she  gaes  anether  man's  bride. 
An  has  plaed  him  foull  play. 

14  '  Had  it  ben  me,  as  it  was  him, 

An  don  as  she  has  dien  him  tee, 
I  wad  ha  geen  them  froges  insteed  of  fish. 
An  tane  ther  bride  away.' 

15  The  Englesh  speared  gin  he  wad  fight. 

It  spak  well  in  his  mind  ; 


An  he  has  gained  her  friends'  consent. 
An  sett  the  weding-day. 


16  *  It  was  na  for  fighten  I  cam  hear, 
But  to  bear  gud  fileshap  gay ; 
Wan  glass  we  yer  bridgrom, 
An  so  I  goe  my  way.' 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


261 


17  The  glass  was  filled  of  gued  read  wine 

Betuen  them  tua : 
*  Wan  word  we  yer  brid, 
An  so  I  goo  my  waa.' 

18  He  was  on  gued  horse  back, 

An  whipt  the  bride  him  we*, 
She  grat  an  wrang  her  hands, 
An  said,  It 's  foull  play  1 


19 


*  An  this  I  dar  well  say, 
For  this  day  I  gade  anether  man's  bride, 
An  it 's  ben  foull  play.' 

20  Bat  nou  she  is  Lochenw[ar]'s  wife, 

An  he  gaed  them  froges  insted  of  fish. 
An  tain  ther  bried  away. 

1.  him  imperfect;  might  be  hir.     5^^.  boung. 

225.  Q.  Collated  with  a  MS.  of  Charles  Kirkpat- 
rick  Sharpe's  and  with  another  copy  of  the  same  pieces 
in  "  North  Country  Ballads,"  Miscellanea  Curiosa,  Ab- 
botsford  Library. 

Sharpe,  p.  13.     l^.  O  wanting.-  Jaffray. 

1*.  For  she  has  lovd  young  L. 

3i'2.  Lauderdale  's  come.     3».  That  pretty. 

4*.  He  agreed  with.     5«.  lossing  of  the. 

6^  were  you,  L.     7K  Ye  get. 

7».  And  send  through.     78.  Get  150.     7*.  be  all. 

8«.  And  still  :  trumpets.     9*.  And  sent. 

9».  Gat  full.    9*.  To  be  all.     lO^.  To  be. 

lO^".  to  obey.     lO*.  And  still  :  trumpets. 

11*.  When  he  went  in  upon.     12*.  who  was. 

128.  Come  never.     IS^.  They'll. 

14*.  Askd  if  he  had.     15i.  ever.     15«.  As  was. 

15*.  Was.     168.  I  did. 

16*.  Was  leaping  on  the  hays. 

1 78.  with  you,  b. 

17*,  18*.  bound.     IS*,  drank.     19^.  taken. 

19*,  20*.  no.     201.  so  great.     202.  ^^d  so. 

20«.  That.     211.  take  their.     21 «.  trumpets. 

221.  There  was.     22*.  Was  walking  on  a  hay. 

228.  Gave  them  the  bonny  bride  by  the  hand. 

22*.  bad  them  bound.     23i.  pieces  nine. 
Scott    16*.  array  miscopied  away. 


222.  Bonny  Baby  Livington. 

P.  231.  *  Bonnie  Annie  Livieston  '  in  C.  K.  Sharpe's 
first  MS.  collection,  p.  24,  resembles  D  and  B,  and  has 
as  many  commonplaces  as  B,  ending  with  the  last  three 
stanzas  of  several  versions  of  *  Lord  Thomas  and  Fair 
Annet '  or  of  *  Lord  Lovel,'  I. 


1  Bonny  Anny  Livieston 

Went  out  to  see  the  play. 
By  came  the  laird  of  Glenlion, 
And  [he  's]  taen  hir  quite  away. 

2  He  set  hir  on  a  milk-white  steed. 

Himself  upon  a  gray, 
He  's  teen  hu-  oer  the  Highland  hills, 
And  taen  hir  quite  away. 

3  When  they  came  to  Glenlion's  gate. 

The  lighted  on  the  green  ; 
There  was  mony  a  bonny  lad  and  lass 
To  wolcome  the  lady  hame. 

4  They  led  hir  through  high  towers  and  bowers. 

And  through  the  buling-green, 
And  ay  when  they  spake  Erse  to  hir 
The  tears  blinded  hir  een. 

5  Says,  The  Highlands  is  no  for  me,  kind  sir. 

The  Highlands  is  no  for  me  ; 
If  that  ye  would  my  favour  win. 
Take  me  unto  Dundee. 

6  *  Dundee  ! '  he  says,  *  Dundee,  lady  ! 

Dundee  you  shall  never  see  ; 
Upon  the  laird  of  Glenlion 
Soon  wadded  shall  ye  be.' 

7  When  bells  were  rung,  and  mas  was  sun<». 

And  all  were  bound  for  bed, 
And  bonny  Annie  Livieston 
By  hir  bridegroom  was  laid. 


8  ♦  It 's  O  gin  it  were  day  ! '  she  says, 

'  It 's  O  gin  it  were  day  ! 
O  if  that  it  were  day,'  she  says, 
*  Nae  langer  wad  I  stay.' 

9  *  Your  horse  stands  in  a  good  stable, 

Eating  both  corn  and  hay. 
And  you  are  in  Glenlion's  arms. 
Why  should  ye  weary  for  day  ? ' 

10  *  Glenlion's  arms  are  good  enough. 

But  alais  !  the  'r  no  for  me  ; 
If  that  you  would  my  fevour  win, 
Taike  me  unto  Dundee. 

11  *  Bat  fetch  me  paper,  pen  and  ink. 

And  candle  that  I  may  see. 
And  I  '11  go  write  a  long  letter 
To  Geordie  in  Dundee. 

12  *  Where  will  I  get  a  bonny  boy. 

That  will  win  hose  and  shoon, 
That  will  gang  to  my  ain  true-luve. 
And  tell  him  what  is  done  ?  ' 


]  <P>A 


262 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


13  Then  up  then  spake  a  bonny  boy, 

Near  to  Glenlion's  kin, 
Says,  Many  time  I  hae  gane  his  erand, 
But  the  lady's  I  will  rin. 

14  O  when  he  came  to  broken  brigs 

He  bent  his  bow  and  swame, 
And  when  he  came  to  grass  growing 
Set  down  his  feet  and  ran. 

15  And  when  he  came  to  Dundee  gate 

Lap  clean  outoer  the  wa  ; 
Before  the  porter  was  thereat, 
The  boy  was  in  the  haa. 

16  'What  news?  what  news,  bonny  boy? 

What  news  hes  thou  to  me?  ' 
*  No  news,  no  news,'  said  bonny  boy, 
*  But  a  letter  unto  thee.' 

17  The  first  three  lines  he  looked  on, 

A  loud  laughter  gied  he, 
But  or  he  wan  to  the  hinder  en 
The  tears  blinded  his  eie. 

18  *  Gae  saddle  to  me  the  black,'  he  says, 

'  Gae  saddle  to  me  the  broun, 
Gae  saddle  to  me  the  swiftest  steed 
That  eer  took  man  to  towen.' 

19  He  burst  the  black  unto  the  slack, 

The  browen  unto  the  brae, 
But  fair  fa  on  the  siller-gray 
That  carried  him  ay  away  1 

20  When  he  came  to  Glenlion's  yett, 

He  tirled  at  the  pin, 
But  before  that  he  wan  up  the  stair 
The  lady  she  was  gone. 

21  *0  I  can  kiss  thy  cheeks,  Annie, 

O  I  can  kiss  thy  chin, 
O  I  can  kiss  thy  clay-cold  lips. 
Though  there  be  no  breath  within. 

22  '  Deal  large  at  my  love's  buriell 

The  short  bread  and  the  wine. 
And  gin  the  morn  at  ten  o  clock 
Ye  may  deal  as  mukle  at  mine.' 

23  The  taen  was  biried  in  Mary's  kirk, 

The  tither  in  St  Mary's  quire, 
And  out  of  the  taen  there  grew  a  birk, 
And  the  ither  a  bonny  brier. 

24  And  ay  they  grew,  and  ay  they  threw. 

Till  they  did  meet  aboon. 
And  a'  that  ere  the  same  did  see 
Knew  they  had  true  lovers  been. 

17«.  hinderen.    21i.  thy  thy. 


223.    Eppie  Morrie. 

P.  239.  Collated  with  a  MS.  of  Charles  Kirkpatrick 
Sharpe's,  and  with  another  copy  of  the  same  pieces, 
"North  Country  Ballads,"  in  Miscellanea  Curiosa, 
Abbotsford  Library. 

Sharpe,  p.  21.     l^.  all.     1'.  away.     1*.  Because. 

21.  Out  it.     22.  moonlighty.     S^-^.  Hald. 

3*.  That  shall  be  wedded.     5^.  He  has. 

52.  it  wanting.    5*.  Says,  Marry. 

6W,  71.2,  101.2,  151,3.  Hold.     6K  be  married. 

78.  dare  not  avow  to  marrying.     7*.  she  were. 

82.  could  not.    88.  are  away.     9^.  bells  was. 

92.  all  men  bound.     10i>2,  15i'2.  away  from. 

10».  Iloss.     128.  Scallater.     1 31.  Says,  Get. 

13*.  sure  I  am  :  as  ye.     14i.  faU. 

142.  you  could  not.     148.  taken. 

14*.  kis[s]ed  your  hand.     158.  For  there's. 

15*.  that 's  be  wedded  to  me. 

161.  in  ii  came  Belbardlane. 

168.  Says,  come  away  home.     17*.  And  get  to  me. 

17*.  came.     182.  and  hey  the  light. 

Written  in  long  lines,  without  division  into  stanzas. 
Scott.    Norrie  throughout.     22.  moonlight. 

168.  home  wanting. 


225.  Bob  Boy. 

P.  245.  A.  This  version  is  No  9  of  "The  Old  Lady's 
Collection,"  and  was  copied  by  Skene  without  much 
variation.  The  following  original  readings  may  be 
noted. 

28.  Or  she.     3^.  serundad.     3*.  fra  each  other. 

6*.  to  me  has.     7*.  Him  sell  beside  her. 

S*.  came  by  Black.     8*.  not  be. 

10i'2.  Be  content  ttoice  only. 

112,  122.  lady  wanting.     12*.  land.     122.  for  his. 

12*.  An  wanting.     12*.  took  them. 

131.  he  wanting.     138.  pound.     14i.  Y'er. 

249.  E.  In  Sharpe's  small  MS.  volume,  "  Songs," 
p.  42. 

12.  Cam  to.    2\  It's  when.    2*.  her  to.    68.  hasted. 
78.  cries  ybr  sighs.     7*.  was  laid  behind. 
81.  He  says  to  her,  etc.,  Oh,  be. 
Readings  from  A  1,  2,  are  added,  in  a  later  hand, 
in  the  margin  ofl,S. 


254. 


From  a  copy  formerly  in  the  possession  of  Charles  Kirk- 
patrick Sharpe,  now  belonging  to  Mr  Macmath.  The  paper 
on  which  it  is  written  has  the  water-mark  1822.  This  ver- 
sion closely  resembles  C  and  K. 

1  Rob  Roy 's  from  the  Highlands  come 
Down  to  the  Lowland  border, 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


263 


And  there  he 's  stole  a  fair  lady  away, 
To  keep  his  house  in  order. 

2  As  he  came  in  by  Blackhill  gate, 

Twenty  men  his  arms  did  carry, 
And  he  has  stole  a  fair  lady  away, 
On  purpose  hir  to  marry. 

3  No  tidings  came  unto  the  house, 

Nor  none  went  in  before  him, 
Or  else  she  had  been  run  away, 
For  she  did  still  abhor  him. 

4  But  with  his  men  he  surunded  the  house. 

Himself  went  in  unto  hir, 
And  when  that  he  had  found  her  out 
He  profest  how  much  he  lovt  hir. 

6  '  O  wilt  thou  be  my  dear  ? '  he  says, 

*  0  wilt  thou  be  my  bony  ? 

0  wilt  thou  be  my  wedded  wife  ? 
For  I  love  you  far  better  than  ony.' 

6  *  I  will  not  be  your  dear,'  she  says, 

*  I  will  not  be  your  honey, 

1  will  not  be  your  wedded  wife  ; 
You  love  me  for  my  money.' 

7  But  he  hir  drew  amongst  his  crew, 

She  holding  by  hir  mother ; 

With  doleful  cries  and  watry  eyes 

The  parted  from  each  other. 

8  He  gave  hir  no  time  for  to  dress 

As  brides  do  when  the  marry, 
But  fast  he  hurried  hir  away. 
And  rowd  hir  in  his  plaidy. 

9  He  set  hir  on  a  milk-white  steed, 

Himself  lept  on  behind  hir. 
And  he  has  carried  hir  away, 

Hir  friends  the  could  not  find  hir. 

10  The  lady's  cries  were  of  times  heard. 

But  none  durst  venture  to  hir ; 
She  gaurded  was  on  every  side, 
Hir  friends  could  not  rescue  hir. 

11  As  the  went  over  hills  and  rocks, 

The  lady  oftimes  fainted  ; 
Cries,  "Wo  be  to  my  curst  mony. 
These  roads  to  me  invented. 


12  As  the  came  in  by  Drummond  town 

And  at  Bachannan  tarried. 
He  bought  to  her  a  cloak  and  gown, 
Yet  wad  she  not  be  married. 

13  And  when  she  came  the  priest  before 

He  askd  if  she  would  marry, 

But  the  parson's  zeal  it  was  so  hot 

For  her  will  he  did  not  tarry. 

14  Four  held  hir  up  before  the  priest. 

Tow  laid  hir  in  hir  bed,  O, 
But  still  she  cried,  with  watry  eyes. 
When  she  was  by  him  laid  0. 

15  '  Now  you  'r  to  the  Highlands  come, 

Out  of  your  native  clime,  lady. 
Never  think  of  going  back, 

But  tak  it  for  your  hame,  lady. 

16  *  Be  content,  be  content. 

Be  content  to  stay,  lady. 
Now  you  are  my  wedded  wife, 
Until  your  dying  day,  lady. 

17  '  Rob  Roy  was  my  father  calld, 

McGregor  was  his  name,  lady. 
And  all  the  country  where  he  dwelt 
None  could  exceed  his  fame,  lady. 

18  a '11  be  kind,  I '11  be  kind, 

I  '11  be  kind  to  thee,  lady, 
A'  thy  kindred  for  thy  sake 
Shall  truly  favoured  be,  lady. 

19  *  My  father  reignd  as  Highland  king. 

And  rided  at  his  will,  lady. 

There  was  nether  lord  nor  duke 

Durst  do  him  ony  ill,  lady. 

20  *  Ay  through  time,  ay  through  time. 

Ay  through  time  was  he,  lady, 
Filled  was  w[ith]  sweet  revenge 
On  a'  his  enemys,  lady. 

21  *  He  was  a  hedge  about  his  friends, 

A  heckle  till  his  foes,  lady, 
And  every  ane  that  did  him  rang, 
He  took  them  oer  the  nose,  lady. 

22  *  I  'm  as  bold,  I  'm  as  bold, 

[As  bold]  as  forest  boar,  lady, 


264 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


Every  ane  that  does  thee  rang 

Shall  f  eell  my  stell  claymore,  lady. 

23  '  Neer  a  man  from  Highlands  came 

That  ever  did  him  dare,  lady. 
But  if  those  persons  did  escape 
He  sized  upon  there  gear,  lady. 
Ay  through  time,  etc. 

24  *  My  father  dealt  in  horse  and  cows. 

But  thou  in  goats  and  sheep,  lady, 
Thre  and  twenty  thousand  merk 
Makes  me  a  man  complete,  lady. 
Be  content,  etc. 

25  '  Of  all  the  exploits  my  father  did 

I  do  him  now  outshine,  lady ; 
He  never  took  a  prize  in  's  life 
With  sic  a  face  as  thine,  lady.' 


226.  Lizie  Lindsay. 


F.  255. 


Title  :  Old  Song,  Rob  Roy. 
the  Gipsy  Laddy. 


Tune,  Jonny  Fa, 


/^        Afier  14.     Tune,  Had  away  frae  me,  Donald. 

Here  may  be  added,  as  an  appendix,  a  fragment  of  a 
ballad  on  the  "  Abduction  of  Nelly  Symon."  •*  The 
chorus  is  in  Gaelic  and  the  song  is  sung  to  one  of  the 
finest  native  airs."  From  The  Aberdeen  Herald  and 
Weekly  Free  Press,  February  3,  1883. 

1  They  hoised  her  up  upon  a  mare  ; 
It  was  not  for  her  gowd  nor  gear  ; 

'T  was  for  her  beauty,  keen  and  rare, 

That  they  stealt  Ellen  Symon. 
Se  ho  or  so  gur  tallum  tallum, 
Se  ho  or  so  gur  e  so  hallum  ; 
Bheir  mis  ma  chinteach  ghuds  gur  tallum, 

Chaileig,  Eilie  Symon. 

2  Her  father  made  a  bow  o  bere, 
Her  uncle  he  gae  twa  pound  mair, 

To  hang  the  rogue  he  vowed  and  sware 
That  stealt  his  Ellen  Symon. 

3  When  they  came  on  till  AUanqooich, 
They  drank  the  whisky  oot  o  a  quaich, 
And  ilka  ane  was  blythe  eneuch. 

But  wae  was  Ellen  Symon. 

4  When  they  came  to  the  brig  o  Don, 
Peter  swore  he  would  move  on ; 
Says  Charlie,  Lad,  ye  sanna  win, 

For  my  brave  Ellen  Symon. 


From  "  The  Old  Lady's  Collection,"  No  39. 

1  Ther  lives  a  maid  in  Edinbrugh  citty, 

Elisa  Lindsy  they  call  her  by  name ; 
Monye  an  came  to  court  her. 
But  a'  ther  suit  was  in  vain. 

2  Out  spak  the  hear  of  CarnussS, 

An  out  spak  he ; 
*Fat  wad  ye  think  of  me  if  I  wad  gae  to 
Edinbrugh  citty 
An  bring  this  fair  creatur  we  me  ? ' 

3  '  If  ye  gae  to  Edinbrugh  city 

An  bring  this  fair  creatur  we  the, 
Bring  her  home  we  ne  flatry. 
But  by  grait  policy.' 

4  Fan  he  came  to  the  Netherbou, 

Elisa  Lindsy  for  to  see. 
She  drank  we  him  a  bottel  of  cherry, 
And  bare  him  gued  company. 

5  '  Will  ye  goo  to  the  Hillands  we  me,  Lisee  ? 

Will  ye  go  to  [the]  Hillands  we  me  ? 

Ye 's  gett  cruds  an  grean  why.' 

6  Out  spak  Lissy's  mother. 

An  out  spak  she ; 
'  If  ye  say  so  to  my  daughter, 
[I]  swaer  I  ell  gar  ye  die.' 

7  '  Keep  well  yer  dother,  old  lady. 

Keep  well  yer  dother  fra  me. 
For  I  care  as  littel  for  yer  dother 
As  she  dos  for  me.' 

8  Out  spak  Lissie  Lindsy, 

We  the  tear  in  her  eay ; 
*  I  will  gie  ye  ten  gunies. 

If  ye  wad  bat  sitt  in  my  roum  bat  a  whill 
Till  I  dra  you[r]  picter. 

To  mind  me  on  your  swit  smill.' 

9  '  I  care  as  littel  for  your  ten  gunies 

As  ye  dou  for  mine, 
But  if  ye  love  my  person. 
Goo  we  me  if  ye  inclayn.' 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


265 


10  Fan  they  came  to  Carnusie,  an  even  to  the 

glen, 
Out  came  the  old  day : 
'  Ye  'r  welcom  home,  Sir  Donall,  ye  'r  welcom 

home, 
An  that  fair  creatur  ye  we.' 

11  *  Caa  na  me  mare  Sir  Donald, 

Bat  caa  me  Donall,  yer  son. 
An  I  '11  caa  ye  my  mother, 

An  caa  me  Donall,  yer  son  :  * 
The  words  wer  spoken  in  Ears, 

Lissie  she  had  nean. 

12  '  Gett  us  a  supper  of  cruds, 

[A  supper  of  cruds]  an  green  whay, 
An  a  bed  of  the  best  of  yeer  rushes, 
Besids  a  covering  of  gray.' 

13  Lissy  Lindsy  bieng  weary. 

She  lay  over  long  in  they  day : 

*  Win  up,  Lissy  Lindsy, 

Ye  haa  layen  our  lang  in  the  day ; 
Ye  might  haa  ben  out  we  my  mider, 
Milken  the  ens  an  the  kay.' 

14  Out  spak  Lissie  Lindsy, 

The  tear  in  her  eay ; 
'  I  wiss  I  wer  in  Edenbrugh  citty, 
I  canng  milk  eus  nor  kay.' 

15  *  Hold  your  toung,  Lissie  Lindsy, 

An  dou  not  freat  on  me, 
For  I  will  haa  ye  back  to  Edenbrugh  citty, 
Nou  we  grait  safity.' 

16  Out  spak  Lissie  Lindsy, 

The  tear  in  her  eay ; 

*  If  I  wer  in  Edenbrugh  citty. 

They  woud  think  littel  of  me.' 

17  He  touk  her  by  the  milk-white  hand, 

Some  other  forest  to  vue  ; 


18  Fan  they  came  to  Camusy,  out  came  Donal's 

father, 
A  gay  old  knight  was  he ; 
Out  cam  Donald's  father, 
An  f  our-an-tuenty  him  we. 

19  '  Ye  'r  welcom,  Lissie  Lends[y], 

Dear  welcom  to  me  ; 

VOL.   V.  34 


Ye  's  be  Lady  Carnusie, 
An  gett  Donal,  my  son.' 

20  Out  came  Donald's  mother, 
An  f  our-an-tuenty  her  we : 
*  Ye  'r  welcom,  my  son, 

An  that  fair  creatur  ye  we.' 

17".  Forest :  doubtful 

2t^l.   Bonny  Lizie  Baillie. 

P.  266.   h.    '  Elisa  BaiUy,'  "  The  Old  Lady's  Collec- 
tion," No  37. 

3  As  I  came  in  by  Carron  sid, 

An  in  nou  by  Dumblain, 
Ther  I  mett  we  Dugall  Grame : 
He  said  he  wad  see  me  hame. 

4  *  My  bonny  Lisey  Bailie, 

I  ill  rou  ye  in  my  plady, 
An  ye  wad  gaa  along  we  me, 
I  wad  make  ye  a  Heallend  lady.' 

5  '  If  I  wad  gaa  along  we  ye, 

They  wad  say  I  wer  na  wise  ; 
For  I  cane  nether  milk  cou  nor  ewe. 
Nor  can  I  speak  Ears.' 

6  *  My  bonny  Lisie  Bailly, 

For  that  ye  nead  na  fear  ; 
For  onye  that  I  cane  dou, 
I  ill  learn  to  you,  my  dear.' 

19,  21  *  Then  I  ill  cast  off  my  bra  nou  goun, 
Made  of  the  silk  an  saten, 
An  I  ell  pitt  on  the  hame-made  grays, 
To  skip  among  the  breachan.* 

'  My  bonny  Lisie  Bailly, 

I  ill  rou  ye  in  my  plaidy, 
An  ye  will  go  along  we  me, 

I  ill  make  ye  a  Healand  lady.' 

20  '  Then  I  ell  cast  aff  my  bra  nou  shous, 
Made  of  the  Turky  lader. 
An  I  ell  pit  on  the  hame-made  broges, 
To  skip  among  the  header.' 

*  My  bonny  Lisie  Bailly, 

I  ell  rou  ye  in  my  plady  ; 
Since  ye  'r  to  goo  along  we  me, 

I  ell  make  ye  a  Healend  lady.' 

16  FouU  faa  the  logarheaded  Loland  lads 
That  lives  near  Castell  Carey, 
Has  latteu  the  bonny  lass  away 
The  Heallend  lad  to  marry. 

IS'^.  Carey  toritten  so  as  to  look  like  Carly. 


266 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


228.  Glasgow  Feggrie. 

P.  271.  A  is  extant  among  Sharpe's  relics,  written 
on  paper  having  1819  in  the  water-mark,  in  two  hands  : 
stanzas  1-6,  8,  9^  in  one,  7  (inserted  in  the  margin) 
and  the  rest  in  another.  Sharpe  has  made  a  few  slight 
changes  in  the  text,  besides  regulating  the  spelling. 
The  ballad  is  now  given  as  it  stands  in  the  original 
copy. 

1  '  As  I  cam  in  by  boney  Glassgow  town, 

The  Highland  troops  were  a'  before  me, 
And  the  bon[ey]est  lass  that  ere  I  saw. 
She  lives  in  Glassgow,  tha  ca  her  Peggy. 

2  *  I  wad  gie  my  boney  black  horse, 

So  wad  I  my  good  gray  nagie, 
If  I  were  a  hundred  miles  in  the  North, 
And  nan  wee  me  but  my  boney  Peggy.* 

3  Up  then  spoke  her  father  dear, 

Dear  vow !  but  he  was  wondrous  sorey ; 

*  Weel  may  yea  steel  a  cow  or  a  ewe, 

But  ye  darna  steel  my  boney  Peggy.' 

4  Up  then  spoke  her  mother  dear, 

Dear  vow !  but  she  spoke  wondrious  sorey ; 
'  Now,  since  I  've  brought  ye  up  this  length, 
Wod  ye  gang  awa  wee  a  Highland  fellow?  ' 

5  He  set  her  on  his  boney  black  horse, 

He  set  himsel  on  his  good  gray  nagy  ; 
They  have  riden  over  hill[s]  and  dales. 
Now  he  is  awa  wee  his  boney  Peggy. 

6  They  are  riden  or  hills  and  dales, 

They  have  riden  or  mountains  maney, 
Untill  that  thay  com  to  a  low,  low  glen, 
And  there  he 's  lain  down  wee  his  boney  Peggy. 

7  Up  then  spoke  the  Earll  o  Argyle, 

Dear  vow  I  bet  he  spoke  wondrous  sorry  ; 

*  The  bonniest  lass  in  a'  Scotland 

Is  af  an  awa  wi  [a]  Highland  fellow  1 ' 

8  There  bed  was  of  the  boney  green  grass, 

There  blankets  was  o  the  hay  sa  boney  ; 
He  falded  his  philabeg  below  her  head. 
Now  he  's  lawing  down  wee  his  boney  Peggy. 

9  Up  then  spoke  the  boney  Lawland  lass. 

And  oh,  but  she  spoke  wondrous  sorry  ; 
'  A  's  warruant  my  mother  would  hae  a  gae  soir 
heart 
To  see  me  lian  here  wi  you,  my  Willie ! ' 

10  *  In  my  father's  house  there 's  feather-beds, 
Feather-beds  an  blankets  many  ; 
The  're  a'  mine,  an  the  '11  shoon  be  thine. 

An  what  needs  your  mother  be  sae  sorry,  Peggie? 


11  *  Dinna  you  see  yon  nine  score  o  kye, 

Feding  on  yon  hill  sae  boney? 
The  're  a'  mine,  an  the  '11  shoon  be  thine. 
An  what  needs  your  mother  be  sorry,  Peggie? 

12  '  Dinna  you  see  yon  nine  score  o  sheep, 

Feeding  on  yon  brae  sae  bonny  ? 
The  're  a'  mine,  an  the  *11  shoon  be  thine. 

An  what  needs  your  mother  be  sorry  for  you? 

13  'Dinna  you  see  yon  bonny  white  house, 

Shining  on  yon  brae  sae  bonny? 
An  I  am  the  earl  o  the  Isle  o  Sky, 
And  surely  my  Peggie  will  be  calle[d]  a  lady.' 

1',  2*.  where.     2*.  a :  not  unlike  2,  but  really  a. 
9^^.  she  sape.     9*.  soir :  i  not  dotted. 
10*.  be  the  thene. 


275. 


G 


Macmath  MS.,  p.  93.  Taken  down  at  Crossmicbael, 
Kirkcudbrightshire,  24th  August,  1892,  from  the  recitation 
of  Miss  Jane  Webster,  who  had  learned  it  more  than  fifty 
years  before,  at  Airds  of  Kells,  from  the  singing  of  Bosanna 
McGinnies. 

1  It  was  on  a  day,  and  a  fine  summer's  day, 

When  the  Lowlands  they  were  making  ready, 
There  I  espied  a  weel-far'd  lass, 

She  was  gaun  to  Glasgow,  and  they  ca  her 
Peggy. 

2  It 's  up  then  spak  a  silly  auld  man, 

And  O  but  he  spak  wondrous  poorly ! 
Sayin,  Ye  may  steal  awa  my  cows  and  my  ewes, 
But  ye  '11  never  steal  awa  my  bonny  Peggy. 

3  *  O  hand  yer  tongue,  ye  silly  auld  man, 

For  ye  hae  said  eneugh  already, 
For  I  '11  never  steal  awa  yer  cows  and  yer  ewes, 
But  I  '11  steal  awa  yer  bonny  Peggy.' 

4  So  he  mounted  her  on  a  milk-white  steed, 

Himsel  upon  a  wee  grey  naigie. 
And  they  hae  ridden  ower  hill  and  dale, 
And  over  moors  and  mosses  many. 

5  They  rade  till  they  cam  to  the  head  o  yon  glen, 

It  might  hae  frightened  anybody ; 
He  said,  Whether  will  ye  go  alongst  with  me, 
Or  will  ye  return  back  again  to  your  mam< 
mie? 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


267 


6  Their  bed  was  o  the  green,  green  grass, 

And  their  blankets  o  the  bracken  sae  bonnie, 
And  he  's  laid  his  trews  beneath  their  head. 
And  Peggy 's  lain  doun  wi  her  Heilan  laddie. 

7  They  lay  till  it  cam  to  the  break  o  day, 

Then  up  they  rose  and  made  them  ready ; 
He  said,  Whether  will  ye  go  alongst  with  me. 
Or  will  ye  return  back  again  to  your  mam- 


8  '  I  '11  follow  you  through  frost  and  snow, 

I  '11  follow  you  through  dangers  many, 
And  wherever  ye  go  I  will  go  alongst  with  you. 

For  I'll  never  return  back  again  to  my 
"       mammie.' 

9  *  I  hae  f  our-and-twenty  gude  milk-kye. 

They  're  a'  bun  in  yon  byre  sae  bonny, 
And  I  am  the  earl  o  the  Isle  o  Skye, 

And  why  should  not  Peggy  be  called  a  lady  ? 

10  *  I  hae  fifty  acres  o  gude  land, 

A'  ploughed  ower  and  sawn  sae  bonny. 
And  I  am  young  Donald  o  the  Isle  o  Skye, 
And  wherever  I  'm  laird  I  '11  make  ye  lady.' 


231.  The  Earl  of  Errol. 

P.  284.    B  as  it  stands  in  "  The  Old  Lady's  Collec- 
tion," No  26. 

1  Earell  is  a  bonny  place, 

Itt  stands  upon  yon  plain ; 
The  gratest  faut  about  the  toun, 
Earell 's  na  a  man. 

For  fat  ye  caa  the  danton  o'tt, 
According  as  ye  ken, 

For  the  pearting 

Lady  Earel  lays  her  lean. 

2  Eearel  is  a  bonny  place, 

It  stans  upon  yon  plain  ; 
The  rosses  they  grou  read  an  whit, 
An  the  apples  they  grou  green. 

3  '  Fatt  nead  I  my  apron  wash 

An  hing  upon  yon  pinn? 
For  lang  will  I  gaa  out  an  in 
Or  I  hear  my  barn's  dinn. 

4  *  Fatt  nead  I  my  apron  wash, 

Or  hang  upoifyon  dor? 
For  side  an  wid  is  my  petecot, 
An  eaen  doun  afore. 


5  *  Bat  I  will  laice  my  stays  agean, 

My  middel  jump  an  smaa  ; 
I  uU  gaa  a'  my  days  a  meaden, 
Awaa,  Earell,  awaa  ! ' 

6  It  fell  ance  upon  a  day  Lord  Earell 

Went  to  hunt  him  lean, 


7  He  was  na  a  mill  fra  the  toun, 

Nor  yett  sae  far  awaa, 
Till  his  lady  is  on  to  Edinbrugh, 
To  tray  him  att  the  laa. 

8  Littel  did  Lord  Earell  think, 

Fan  he  satt  doun  to  dine, 
That  his  lady  was  one  to  Edinbrugh, 
Nor  fatt  was  in  her  mind. 

9  Till  his  best  servant  came 

For  to  latt  him  kenn. 


10  She  was  na  in  att  the  toun-end, 

Nor  yett  sa  far  awa, 
Till  Earell  he  was  att  her  back, 
His  goudy  lokes  to  sha. 

11  She  was  na  in  att  the  toun-head, 

Nor  just  att  the  eand, 
Till  Earell  he  was  att  her  back, 
Her  earent  for  to  ken. 

12  <  As  lang  as  they  caa  ye  Kett  Carnege, 

An  me  Sir  Gilbert  Hay, 
I  us  gar  yer  father  sell  Kinnerd, 
Yer  tougher  for  to  pay.' 

13  *  For  to  gar  my  father  sell  Kennerd, 

It  wad  be  a  sin, 
To  gee  't  to  ony  naughty  knight 
That  a  toucher  canna  wine.' 

14  Out  spak  the  first  lord, 

The  best  among  them  a'  ; 

*  I  never  seed  a  lady  come  to  Edinbrugh 

We  sick  matters  to  the  laue.' 

15  Out  spak  the  nixt  lord, 

The  best  of  the  toun ; 

♦  Ye  gett  fiften  weell-fared  maids. 

An  pitt  them  in  a  roun, 
An  Earl  in  the  midst  of  them, 
An  latt  him  chouss  out  ane.' 

16  They  ha  gotten  fiften  well-fared  maids, 

An  pat  them  in  a  roun. 


268 


ADDITIONS  AND  COBRECTIONS 


An  Earel  in  the  mids  of  them, 
An  bad  him  chuse  out  ane. 

1 7  He  voued  them  a'  intell  a  rau, 

Even  up  an  doun, 
An  he  has  chossen  a  well-fared  may, 
An  Meggie  was  her  name. 

18  He  touk  her  by  the  hand, 

Afore  the  nobles  a', 
An  tuenty  times  he  kissed  her  moue, 
An  lead  her  throu  the  haa. 

19  'Louk  up,  Meggie,  luke  up,  Meggie, 

An  thinkne  sham[e]  ; 
As  lang  as  ye  see  my  goudy  loks, 
Lady  Earel's  be  yer  name.' 

20  Thir  was  fifteen  nobelmen, 

An  as  mony  ladys  gay, 
To  see  Earel  proven  a  man 


28 


21  *  Ye  tak  this  well-fared  may. 

An  keep  her  three  roun  reaths  of  a  year, 
An  even  att  the  three  raiths'  end 
I  uU  draue  near.' 

22  They  ha  tane  that  well-fared  may. 

An  kepeed  her  three  roun  reaths  of  a  year. 
An  even  att  the  three  raiths'  end 
Earel's  son  she  bare. 

23  The  gentelmen  they  ga  a  shout. 

The  ladys  gaa  a  caa. 
Fair  mat  faa  him  Errel, 
But  vou  to  his  lady ! 

24  He  was  na  in  at  the  toun-head, 

Nor  just  att  the  end, 
Till  the  letters  they  wer  metting  him 
That  Errol  had  a  son. 

25  '  Luke  up,  Megie,  luk  up,  Meggie, 

An  think  na  shame ; 
As  lang  as  ye  see  my  bra  blak  hat, 
Lady  Earrol  's  be  yer  name. 

26  *  I  will  gie  my  Meggie  a  mill. 

Bat  an  a  pice  of  land. 


To  foster  my  young  son. 

27  'Fare  is  a'  my  merry  men  a*. 
That  I  pay  meat  an  gair. 
For  to  conve  my  Meggie  hame, 
?' 


Even  in  Lord  Earrel's  coach 
They  conved  the  lassie  hame. 

29  '  Tak  hame  yer  dother.  Lord  Kennard, 
An  take  her  to  the  glen. 
For  Earell  canno  pleas  her, 
Earell  nor  a'  his  men.' 

80  •  Had  I  ben  lady  of  Earrol, 
Of  sick  a  boony  place, 
I  wadne  gain  to  Edinbrugh 
My  husband  to  disgrace.' 

Refrain.     Given  only  at  the  end. 

15*,  162.  roum.     20^.  gay  ladys.     24*.  that  that. 

288.  E  is  also  in  the  small  MS.  volume  of  C.  K. 
Sharpe's,  "Songs,"  p.  17.  The  reading  in  3*  is 
"  toss,"  "top  "  being  a  mis-copy. 

289.  Findlay  MSS,  I,  135  ;  '  Airlie,'  from  Miss 
Butchart,  Arbroath. 

1  Lord  Airlie  's  courted  mony  a  lady, 

He 's  courted  mony  a  ane,  O 
An  he  's  awa  to  bonny  Einnaird, 
Lady  Katrine's  love  to  win.  O 

2  An  when  he  cam  to  bonny  Kinnaird, 

An  on  the  bowlin-green, 

There  he  saw  his  ain  Katrine, 

Was  walking  there  alane. 

8  '  O  will  ye  go  to  bonnie  Airlie, 
Alang  wi  me  to  dine  ? 
Or  will  ye  go  to  bonny  Airlie, 
To  be  my  lady  fine  ? ' 

4  '  I  winna  go  to  bonny  Airlie 
Alang  wi  you  to  dine. 
But  I  will  go  to  bonny  Airlie 
To  be  your  lady  fine.' 


5  He  would  not  hae  the  lady  gay. 

That  rustled  in  her  silk. 
But  he  would  hae  the  country-girl, 
Goin  to  sell  her  milk. 

6  He  took  his  Peggie  by  the  hand 

An  led  her  through  the  ha, 
An  twenty  times  he  kissed  her. 
Before  the  nobles  a'. 

7  He  took  his  Peggie  by  the  hand 

An  led  her  through  the  trance, 
An  twenty  times  he  kissed  her 
Before  he  bade  her  dance. 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


269 


Findlay  MSS,  I,  153,  from  Bell  Harris,  Muirside  of 
Kinnell,  Forfarshire,  *'  once  a  servant  of  the  family  of 
Carnegie,  and  now  upwards  of  eighty  years  of  age 
(1868)." 

1  They  hae  made  a  marriage  o  't, 

An  they  hae  made  it  sune,  O 
An  they  hae  made  a  marrige  o  't, 
It  stood  at  Earlstoon.  O 

2  When  een  was  come,  an  bells  were  rung, 

An  a'  men  boond  for  bed, 
The  earl  and  his  gay  ladie 
In  ae  chamber  were  laid. 

3  It 's  up  i  the  mornin  the  earl  rose, 

Went  to  anither  room  ; 
Up  she  rose  an  away  she  goes. 
An  to  Kinnaird  she  came. 

4  They  socht  her  up,  they  socht  her  doon, 

They  socht  her  through  a'  the  toon, 
An  she  was  seen  walkin  her  lane, 
An  her  bed-goon  it  was  on. 

5  He  wissd  his  horse  had  broken  's  neck 

When  first  he  to  Kinnaird  did  come. 

6  There  was  na  ane  bade  him  come  in 

Bat  John  Lindsay  him  lane. 

7  When  he  was  at  bonny  Kinnaird, 

An  on  the  bowlin-green. 
His  hair  was  like  the  threeds  o  gold, 

An  his  eyes  like  diamonds  sheen  ; 
He  micht  'U  ae  served  the  best  Carnegie, 

That  ever  bore  the  name. 

8  He  said,  Tho  ye  be  Kate  Carnegie, 

I  am  Sir  Gilbert  Hay  ; 
I  '11  gar  your  father  sell  Kinnaird, 
Your  tocher-gude  he  maun  pay. 

9  *  To  gar  my  father  sell  his  land 

I  think  it  were  a  sin, 
For  ony  silly  brat  like  you  ; 
Ye  couldna  tocher  win. 

10*1  may  wash  my  apron 

An  hing  it  on  the  tower, 
An  I  may  kilt  my  petticoats. 
They  *re  even  doon  afore.' 

11  But  the  earl  he  's  awa  to  Edinbro, 

To  prove  himself  a  man  ; 
The  lady  she  fast  foUowd  him. 
To  swear  that  he  was  none. 

12  An  when  they  cam  to  Edinbro, 

And  into  the  ha, 


There  she  saw  her  ain  gude  lord, 
Amang  the  nobles  a'. 

13  He  took  the  tapster-lass 

An  led  her  through  the  room. 
An  twenty  times  he  kissed  her  mou, 
Afore  his  lady's  een. 

14  She  took  the  cocks  all  frae  her  head 

An  dashed  them  at  the  wa  ; 
*  Awa  !  awa.  Lord  Earl  ! '  she  says, 
'  Awa,  Lord  Earl,  awa  I ' 

15  But  the  earl  he  hae  gotten  leave 

To  choise  a  maid  unto  himsel. 
An  he  hae  choised  a  country -lass. 
Cam  butter  an  eggs  to  sell. 

16  He  took  the  lassie  by  the  hand 

An  led  her  through  the  room  : 
'  I  'd  gie  thee  three  times  three  hundred  pound, 
If  you  'd  bear  to  me  a  son.' 

17  *  Haud  a£E  your  hands,  Lord  Earl,'  she  said, 

'  Haud  a£E  your  hands  frae  me  ; 
For  I  wad  think  it  a  great  disgrate 
For  a'  my  kin  an  me.* 

18  But  he  has  called  for  a  private  room. 

An  there  he  laid  her  doun. 
An  there  he  took  his  will  o  her, 
Upon  a  bed  o  down. 

19  She  was  three  quarters  of  a  year 

Confined  to  a  room, 
And  bonny  was  the  babe  she  bore. 
Sir  John  Hay  was  his  name. 

20  *  Wae  be  to  you,  Peggie  Stuart, 

That  ae  sister  o  mine  ! 
Ye  've  pairted  me  an  my  gude  lord, 
We  '11  never  meet  again.' 

21  Up  spak  her  sister,  Lady  Jean, 


An  I  could  gain  sick  an  estate, 

I  wad  gien  my  husband  up  to  disdain. 

6*.  John  Lindsay  is  explained  to  be  the  gardener. 

11».  They  lady. 

13*.   Followed  by  Wi  twenty  lookin  on,  perhaps  an 

alternative  verse. 
14^.  She  is  explained  as  the  tapster-lass. 
20^.  Query  by  Mr  Findlay :  Lady  Jean? 

290.  D  b.  Now  collated  with  a  MS.  of  Charles 
Kirkpatrick  Sharpe,  and  with  another  copy  of  the  same 
pieces  in  "North  Country  Ballads,"  Miscellanea  Curi- 
osa,  Abbotsford  Library. 

Sharpe,  p.  15.     Burden  ^<^.  of  it. 


270 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


Burden  '.  you  call :  of  it.     *.  lies  alone  O. 
1'.  at  it  grows.    2^.  upon  a.    2*.  He  's  not. 
A\  It 's  sure.    6^.  good  witness. 
7*.  Said,  Had  I  been  the  lady  of  Errol. 
7*.  of  such.     8*.  And  he  gave  her  an. 
IQi.  lien  down.     10^.  And  a.     12^  Take  home. 
12^^.  take.     12*.  cannot  please  her. 
Scott.     7*.  O  come.    12*.  No  can. 

232.   Richie  Story. 

P.  292  b,  2d  paragraph,  first  line.  Say  :  L.  F.,  a 
daughter  of  John,  third  Earl. 

3d  paragraph.  Say  :  Lord  John  Fleming  was  cre- 
ated Earl  of  Wigton,  Lord  Fleming  of  Biggar  and 
Cumbernauld,  by  letters  patent  dated  19th  March,  1606. 
Hunter  (2d  ed.),  p.  547. 

293.  B,  as  it  stands  in  "  The  Old  Lady's  Collec- 
tion," No  21. 

1  Comarnad  it  is  a  very  bonny  place. 

An  ther  is  ladys  three,  madam, 
Bat  the  farest  an  rarest  of  them  a' 
Has  marred  Richerd  Storry. 

2  *  O  hear  is  a  letter  to  ye,  madam, 

Hear  is  a  letter  to  ye,  madam  ; 
The  Earl  of  Hume,  that  galant  knight, 
Is  fain  in  love  we  you,  madam. 

3  *  Ther  is  a  letter  to  you,  madam, 

[Ther  is  a  letter  to  you,  madam  ;] 
The  Eearl  of  Hume,  that  galant  knight, 
Disers  to  be  yer  servant  trou,  madam.' 

4  *  I  ill  haa  nan  of  his  letters,  Richerd, 

I  ill  hae  nane  of  his  letters,  [Richerd,] 
I  have  voued,  an  I  ill  keep  it  trou, 
I  ill  marry  nane  bat  ye,  Richie.* 

5  '  Say  na  saa  to  me,  lady, 

Sai  na  saie  to  me,  lady. 
For  I  ha  nether  lands  nor  rents 
For  to  manten  ye  on,  lady.' 

6  '  Hunten  Tour  an  Tillebarn, 

The  house  of  Athell  is  mine,  Riche, 
An  ye  sail  haa  them  a'. 
Fan  ever  ye  inclen,  Riche. 

7  '  For  we  will  gaa  to  sea,  Riche, 

I  ill  sitt  on  the  deak,  Riche, 
I  ill  be  yer  servant  air  an  lait, 
Att  any  houre  ye  laek,  [Riche.]  * 

8*0  manie  ye  be  sad,  sister, 

An  mennie  ye  be  sorry,  Nelly, 
To  live  the  has  of  bony  Comernid, 
An  follou  Richert  Storry?  ' 


9  '  O  fatt  neads  I  be  sad,  sister, 
Or  fou  cane  I  be  sorry,  Anna? 
A  bony  lad  is  my  delit. 
An  my  lot  has  been  laid  afore  me.' 

10  As  she  wen[t]  up  the  Parliment  Closs, 

We  her  lassed  shene  so  fine, 
Monny  an  bad  the  lady  good  day. 
But  fue  thought  she  was  Richert's  lady. 

11  As  she  went  up  the  Parliment  Closs, 

We  her  laised  shon  so  fine, 
Monny  an  hailed  that  gay  lady. 
But  fue  hailed  Richerd  Storry. 

The  first,  second,  and  fourth  verse,  perhaps,  certainly 
the  second  and  fourth,  should  have  the  trochaic  ending 
which  we  find  in  stanzas  2,  5.  It  may  have  been  supplied 
ad  libitum. 

296.  P  a.  Preserved  in  a  small  MS.  volume  with  the 
title  "  Songs  "  on  the  cover,  entirely  in  Sharpe's  hand- 
writing, p.  27. 

297.  I.  A  stanza  from  the  authority  of  Nannie 
Blake,  an  old  servant  at  Peebles  :  Robert  Chambers,  in 
Sharpe's  Ballad  Book,  1880,  p.  131. 

*  Fair  Rosewoodie  is  a'  my  ain. 

My  father  left  it  to  me  so  lately  ; 
Gin  ye  '11  consent  to  be  my  ain, 

I  '11  gie  ye  't  a',  my  Ritchie  Storie.* 

235.  The  Earl  of  Aboyne. 

P.  814.  C.  Here  given  as  it  stands  in  "  The  Old 
Lady's  Collection,"  No  8. 

1  The  Earl  of  Aboyn  he 's  carrlis  an  kind, 

An  he  is  nou  come  frae  Lonon  ; 
He  sent  his  man  him  befor. 
To  tell  of  his  hame-coming. 

2  First  she  called  on  her  chambermad, 

Sayn  on  Jeanie,  her  gentelwoman  : 

•  Bring  me  a  glass  of  the  best  claret  wine, 

To  drink  my  good  lord's  well-hame-coming. 

3  '  My  sarvants  all,  be  ready  att  a  call. 


For  the  Lord  of  Aboy[n]  is  coming. 

4  *  My  cooks  all,  be  ready  at  a  [c]all, 

We  the  very  best  of  meatt. 

For  the  Lord  of  Aboyn  is  coming. 

5  *  My  maids  all,  be  ready  at  a  call, 

The  rooms  we  the  best  all  to  be  drest. 
For  the  Lord  of  Aboyn  is  coming.' 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


271 


6  She  did  her  to  the  closs  to  take  him  from  his  hors, 

An  she  welcomed  him  fra  London  : 

*  Yer  welcome,  my  gued  lord,  fra  London  I  * 

7  *  An  I  be  sale  welcom,'  he  says, 

•  Ye  '11  kiss  me  for  my  coming, 

For  the  morn  sud  ha  ben  my  weding-day 
Gif  I  had  stayed  att  London. ' 

8  She  turned  her  about  we  a  disdanfull  look, 

O  dear,  she  was  a  pritty  woman  ! 
•  Gin  the  morn  sud  ha  ben  yer  weding-day, 
Ye  may  kiss  yer  houers  at  London.' 


'  So  I  shall,  madam,  an  ye 's  ha  na  mare  to  say, 
For  I  ill  dine  we  the  markes  of  Huntly.* 

10  She  did  her  to  his  servant-man, 

I  wat  they  caed  him  Peater  Gordon  : 

*  Ye  will  ask  my  good  lord  if  he  will  late  me 

We  him  a  singel  mille  to  ride  [to  London].' 

11  *  You  ned  not,  madam,     .... 

I  haae  asked  him  already  ; 
He  will  not  lett  you  a  singel  mille  ride. 

For  he  is  to  dine  we  the  markes  of  Huntly.' 

12  She  called  on  her  chamber-maid. 

Sine  on  Jean,  her  gentelwoman  : 

*  Ye  make  my  bed  an  tay  up  my  head, 

Vou  's  me  for  his  hear  coming  ! ' 

13  She  lived  a  year  an  day,  we  mucell  grife  an  wae, 

The  docters  were  we  her  dealing  ; 
Withen  a  crak,  her  heart  it  brack. 
An  the  letters  they  went  to  London. 

14  He  gae  the  table  we  his  foot. 

An  caped  it  we  his  knee, 
Gared  silver  cup  an  easer  dish 
In  flinders  flie. 


15 


•I  rader  I  had  lost  a'  the  lans  of  Aboyne 
Or  I  had  lost  bonny  Margrat  Irven.' 

16  He  called  on  his  best  servang-man, 

I  wat  they  [caed]  him  Piter  Gordon : 
'  Ye  gett  our  bosses  sadled  we  speed, 
Vou 's  me  for  our  hear  coming ! 


17 


18  *  We  must  to  the  North,  to  hurry  her  corps, 
Aless  for  our  hear  coming ! 
I  rather  I  had  lost  a'  the  lands  of  Aboyn 
Or  I  had  lost  bonny  Marg[ra]t  Irvien ! ' 

1*.  carliss  :  perhaps  courtis.     8^.  pritty :  doubtful. 

318-20.  Copies  of  Q,  I,  J,  were  sent  by  Motherwell 
to  C.  K.  Sharpe,  in  a  letter  dated  December  6,  1824. 
In  all  the  transcripts  there  are  some  slight  changes  of 
the  MS.  text,  such  as  Motherwell  was  quite  in  the  way 
of  making.  To  I  he  added  the  following  lines,  which 
are  found  substantially  in  J.  They  may  have  been 
subsequently  recollected  by  the  reciter  of  I. 

10  She  has  called  her  servant-maid, 

And  Jean,  her  gentlewoman  : 
*  Go  make  me  a  bed  and  lay  me  down, 
I'm  as  sick  as  any  woman.' 

11  Word  has  to  new  London  gane, 

To  the  tavern  where  he  was  dining  ; 
He  gave  such  a  rap  on  the  table  where  he  sat 
Made  all  the  house  to  wonder. 


12 


For  we  '11  a'  be  in  black,  fra  the  hose  to  the  hat, 
Vou  *s  me  for  bonny  Margrat  Irvieen  I 


*  I  would  rather  hae  lost  a'  the  lands  o  Aboyne 
Or  I  'd  lost  my  Peggy  Irvine  1 ' 

11^.  Motherwell  suggests  :  Word  has  now  to. 

321.    Findlay  MSS,  1, 120.    '  The  Yerle  o  Aboyne,' 
from  Mrs  Main,  Inchmarlo,  Kincardineshire. 

1  The  Yerle  o  Aboyne  's  to  London  gane. 
He  met  in  wi  a  temptin  woman ; 
For  she  sat  an  sang  an  birld  at  the  wine. 
An  she  wadna  lat  him  hame  fae  Lunon. 


2  '  My  cook-maids  a',  be  well  in  ca, 

Had  pots  an  pans  a  boilin, 
Wi  the  roast  an  the  boil. 

To  attend  my  guid  lord's  comin.' 

3  She  steppit  sae  neatly  oot  the  way, 

She  gaed,  she  went  an  met  him  : 

*  Ye  're  welcome  home,  my  ain  guid  lord, 

You  'r  thrice  weelcome  fae  Lunon.' 

4  '  An  I  be  welcome  home,'  he  says, 

'  Ye  '11  kiss  me  for  my  comin. 
For  this  very  day  I  'd  been  wedded  to  a  maid 
Gin  I  'd  staid  langer  in  Lunon.' 

5  She  turnd  her  about  wi  a  sorrowf  u  look. 

Such  a  sorry  an  angry  woman  I 

*  An  the  letters  be  true  I  receivd  last  frae  you, 

Gae  kiss  your  whores  in  Lunon.' 


=  h 


272 


ADDITIONS  AND  COBRECTIONS 


6  Haem  she  gaed  frae    .... 
But  wi  a  crack  her  heart  did  brak, 


7  Fifty  letters  seald  wi  black, 
An  they  are  on  to  Lunon, 
An  when  he  lookd  the  letters  upon 
He  says,  O  wae  's  me  for  my  pairtin  I 


236.  The  Laird  o  Drum. 

P.  324.    B,  as  it  stands  in  «  The  Old  Lady's  Col- 
lection," No  16,  ♦  The  Lard  of  Drum.' 

1  Ther  was  a  knigh[t], 

An  a  gillan  knight  was  he, 
An  he  's  faein  in  love  we  his  shiperd's  daughter, 


8  When  he  cam  to  bonny  Aboyne, 

He  thocht  that  she  was  sleepin, 
But  when  he  drew  the  sma  curtain  by 
Then  he  fell  oot  a  weepin. 

9  '  O  dear  I  is  she  dead?  and  a  wow  !  is  she  dead? 

Ah,  woe  's  me  for  our  pairtin  ! 
I  rather  had  lost  a'  the  lands  o  Aboyne 
Or  I  'd  pairted  wi  Peggie  Lrvine. 


10  '  A'  my  friends  did  me  disdain 

For  marryin  the  name  o  Irvine.' 

The  first  stanza  is  also  given  thus  (p.  121)  : 

The  Earl  of  Aboyne  he 's  courtous  an  kin, 

He  's  kin  to  every  woman  ; 
He 's  kind  when  he  comes,  an  he  's  kind  when  he 
gangs, 

But  he  never  brings  his  lady  to  London. 

From  Miss  Butchart,  Arbroath,  p.  146. 

1  The  Earl  o  Aboyne 's  to  London  gane, 
An  taen  Duke  Huntly  wi  him, 


2  She  called  on  Jack,  her  gentleman. 
An  Jean,  her  gentlewoman  : 
*  Gae  dress  my  fair  body  in  some  finer  dress, 
For  the  Earl  o  Aboyne  is  comin.' 


3  She  's  gaen  doun  by  yon  burnside. 
An  there  she  saw  him  comin  : 
'  Ye  're  welcome,  welcome.  Earl  o  Aboyne, 
Ye  're  welcome  hame  frae  Lunon. 


4  *  Gae  back,  gae  back  then,  Earl  o  Aboyne, 
Nae  thanks  to  you  for  comin ; 
Gin  tomorrow  wad  hae  been  your  fair  weddin-day, 
Gae  kiss  your  dames  in  Lunon.' 


He  could  nether  gang  nor  ride; 
He  fell  so  deap  in  her  fancy 
Till  his  nose  began  to  blead. 

3  '  Bonny  may,  an  bra  may, 

Canno  ye  on  me  rue? 
By  a'  the  meads  I  ever  saa, 
Ther  is  nane  I  lou  by  you. 

4  'Ye'r  a  shepherd's  ae  dother. 

An  I  am  a  barren's  son, 
An  gratt  is  the  pleasur  I  wad  haa 
To  see  you  gaa  out  an  in,  may.* 

5  <  I  am  a  shiperd's  ae  dother. 

An  ye  'r  a  barren's  son, 
An  ther  is  ne  pleasur  I  could  ha 
To  see  you  gae  out  nor  in. 


For  I  widne  gee  the  fancey  of  my  bonny  love 
For  ne  love  nor  favour  of  you,  sir.' 

7  '  Bonny  may,  an  bra  may, 

Canna  ye  on  me  rue  ? 
By  a'  the  maids  I  ever  saa, 
Ther  is  nane  I  loie  but  you.' 

8  'Lay  not  your  love  on  me,'  she  says, 

*  Lay  not  your  love  on  me. 
For  I  am  our  lake  to  be  yer  bride, 
An  you[r]  quen  I  ell  never  be. 

9  *  For  I  will  wear  nane  of  your  silks, 

Nor  nean  of  yer  scarlet  clase  ; 
For  the  hue  of  the  eue  sail  be  my  goun, 
An  I  will  goo  as  I  pleas.' 


10  ' 


Ye  'r  na  our  lake  to  be  my  bride, 
An  my  quien  ye  's  never  be. 

11  '  Bonney  may,  an  bra  may, 
Winne  ye  on  me  rue? 
By  a'  the  may[s]  I  see, 
Ther  is  nane  I  loe  but  you,  may.' 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


273 


12  *  If  ye  ha  faen  sae  deap  in  my  fancy 

Ye  cane  nether  gang  nor  rid, 
Ye  take  me  to  the  middel  of  the  ring, 
An  bear  me  guid  comp[a]ny.' 

13  He  has  tane  her  by  the  milk- whit  hand 

An  led  her  thro  hase  an  hours  : 
*  Ye  'r  the  jule  of  my  heart, 
An  a'  I  have  is  yours.' 

14  He  tuke  her  by  the  milk- whit  hand 

An  led  her  out  an  in  : 
'  Ye  'r  the  jule  of  my  heart, 
My  d[ea]r,  ye  'r  welcom  in.* 

15  Out  spak  his  brother  John, 

*  Brother,  ye  haa  don  grate  wrong  ; 
Ye  ha  marred  a  wife  this  night 
Discredet  to  all  yer  kin.* 

16  'Hold  yer  toung,  my  brother  John, 

For  I  hae  don  ne  wrang, 
For  I  ha  marred  a  wife  to  wine. 
An  ye  ha  ane  to  spend.' 

May,  4*,  11^,  sir,  6*,  are  added  for  singing  as  O  is 
in  other  copies,  and  either  one  of  these,  or  O, 
would  naturally  be  appended  in  the  other  stanzas. 

81.  Lay  not  fancyour  love  on  me.  The  next  line 
shows  that  fane  was  written  by  mistake. 

325.  Findlay's  MS.,  p.  13,  has  five  stanzas  of  the 
ballad,  from  the  recitation  of  a  woman  in  Kincardine- 
shire. The  five  stanzas  are  very  nearly  the  same  as 
D  1,  2,  4,  5,  6^.2,  with  the  matter-of-fact  conclusion, 
6«.*, 

An  a'  body  seemed  to  be  content, 
And  she  was  at  his  will. 

A  stanza  from  another  version  is  given  at  the  same 
place  which  resembles  E  8  : 

She  canna  wash  your  china  cups. 

Nor  dress  you  a  dish  o  tea,  O 
But  weel  can  she  milk  baith  cow  and  ewe, 

Wi  her  cogie  at  her  knee.  O 

I  have  received  nearly  the  same  from  Mr  Walker  of 
Aberdeen  as  sung  by  John  Walker,  crofter,  Portlethen, 
1893. 

Yer  china  cups  I  canna  wash, 

Nor  cook  a  cup  o  tea,  O 
But  weel  can  I  milk  the  cowes  and  the  ewes, 

Wi  the  cogie  on  my  knee.  O 

237.  The  Duke  of  Gordon's  Daughter. 

P.  332.  There  is  a  copy  in  a  collection  of  foUo 
sheet  ballads,  British  Museum,  1346.  m.  8,  with  the 

VOL.  V.  35 


date  September  8th,  1775,  at  the  end  ;  earlier,  there- 
fore, than  any  of  those  I  had  before  me  excepting  a, 
and  worth  collating. 

1*.  they  wanting.    2*,  3*.  she  did.    8^.  the  wanting. 

38.  Jean 's  fallen  in.     4*.  mony.    58.  with  wanting. 

5*.  Jeanny.     6*.  she  's  no. 

7*.  Lady  Jean 's  fallen  in  love  with. 

7*.  she  would.     8^.  upon  yon.    8^.  he  did. 

8*.  a  training  of.     9^.  O  woe  be. 

92.  And  wanting:  death  shall  you.     9*.  shalt  thou. 

101.  Duke  of.     10*.  he  did  such  a  thing. 

11*.  him  put  off  his  gold  lace.     11*.  the  wanting. 

13*.  will  I.     142.  a  yer  but  only  three. 

14*.  babe  on.     151.  0  1  'm  weary  with. 

16  comes  before  15. 

161.  Q  I  atn  weary  wandering.    16^.  think  it  lang. 

17*.  sheen:  all  wanting.     17*.  she  could. 

18,  19,  wanting.     20^.  I  was  :  glen  of  Foudland. 

20*.  either  house  or  sheen. 

211.  When  they :  to  bonny  C.  G.    218.  out  wanting. 

221.  O  wanting  :  dear  Jeannie  G. 

222.  welcome  dear.     22*.  Captain  wanting. 
231.  over  the.     232.  As  wanting.     24i.  ye. 
251.  what  means  this.     258.  are  all  dead. 
26^.  drink,  be  jovial.     278.  out  with  wanting. 
281.  pretty  wanting.     288.  can  enter  my. 

30-32  wanting.     33^.  you  're  welcome  dear  to  me. 
338.  You  're  welcome,  bonny  Jeanny  Gordon. 
33*.  With  my  young  family. 

238.  Glenlogie,  or,  Jean  o  Bethelnie. 

P.  346.  lb.  A  copy  of  this  version  has  been 
found  at  Abbotsford,  in  a  portfolio  labelled  '  The 
Rever's  Wedding  and  other  important  papers.'  There 
are  a  few  differences  of  reading. 

In  the  stanza  after  1,  line  3,  be  richer,  line  4,  maun 

hae. 
21.  Oh  whare.     22«*.  gang :  again  soon. 
31.  he  cam :  gae.     3'.  gae.     38,  my  maister's. 
3*.  stop  till.     51.  Gae  :  gar.     58,  lang  or  ere. 
5*.  O  wanting.     68.  quo  she.     7^.  But  wanting. 


239.  Lord  Saltoun  and  Auchanachie. 

P.  349.  A  b.  Now  collated  with  a  MS.  of  Charles 
Kirkpatrick  Sharpe's  and  another  copy  of  the  same 
pieces  in  "North  Country  Ballads,"  Miscellanea  Curi- 
osa,  Abbotsford  Library.    Stanzas  mostly  of  four  lines. 

Sharpe,  p.  10.     li.  stepping  on.     1^.  ye  're. 
21.  caren.     2\  Achanachie  (and  always). 
31.  not  take  ;  it  wanting.     3^.  and  he  's  thrawn. 
41.  I  'm  bown  :  you.     4*.  not. 
52.  out  wanting :  and  they  cutit.     7i.  came. 
81.  fleed.     8^.  Jeanie  is. 


1/ 


274 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


850.  B  c.  From  "The  Old  Lady's  Collection," 
No  29,  We  have  here  Gordon  of  Auchanachie,  though 
the  scene  is  in  Buchan. 

1  Buchan  is  bonny  an  ther  lays  my  love, 

My  fance  is  fixed  on  him,  it  winne  remove ; 
[It  winne  remove]  for  a'  I  cane  dee, 
Achanace  Gordon  is  my  love  an  sail  be. 

2  Ben  came  her  father,  steps  on  the  floor, 
Says,  Jeanie,  ye  'r  acting  the  part  of  a  hour  ; 
Ye  'r  leaking  ane  that  cares  na  for  ye ; 
Wed  Salton,  an  latt  Achenecy  be. 

8  *  Achainace  Gordon  is  a  pritty  man. 
Bat  Acchanace  Gordon  has  na  free  land  ; 
For  his  land  is  laying  wast,  an  his  castell  faaen 

doun, 
So  ye  man  take  Salton,  latt  Achennecy  be.' 

4  'My  friends  may  case  me  we  Salton  to  wed. 
Bat  my  friends  sail  na  case  me  we  him  to  bed ; 

I  ill  never  bear  to  him  dother  nor  sin  till  the  day 

I  sail  deei, 
For  Achannace  Gordon  is  my  love  an  sail  be.' 

5  Her  friends  they  have  cassed  her  we  Salton  to  wed. 
Bat  they  never  got  her  we  him  to  bed  ; 

She  never  bare  dother  nor  sin  till  the  day  that  she 

dead  deei, 
For  Achainace  Gordon  was  her  love  and  sud  be. 

6  *  Ye  that  are  her  madins,  ye  take  aff  her  goun. 
An  I  will  infeft  her  in  five  thousand  pound  ; 

She  sail  werr  silk  till  her  heel  and  goud  till  her 

kneee, 
An  she  man  forget  him  young  Achanice.* 

7  *Ye  that  are  my  madins  sanna  take  aff  my  goon. 
Nor  will  I  be  infefted  in  five  thousand  pound  ; 

I  winne  wer  goud  on  my  head  nor  silk  to  my  knee, 
Nor  will  I  forsake  young  Achanice.' 

8  *  Ye  that  are  her  madins  bring  her  to  my  bed. 
The  bed  is  made  ready  an  the  shits  doun  spread  ; 
She  sail  lay  in  her  bed  till  tuall  in  the  day. 

An  sin  forget  him  young  Achanace.' 

9  *  Ye  that  are  my  madins  sanna  ha  me  to  his  bed, 
Tho  the  bed  be  made  ready  an  the  shits  doun 

spread  ; 
Nor  will  I  lay  in  his  bed  till  tuall  of  the  day, 
Nor  forsake  him  young  Achanicy. 

10  '  For  rather  then  have  wedded  Salton  to  wear  goud 
to  my  knee, 
I  rather  wedded  Achanicy  trailed  fait  fish  fraa  the 

sea ; 
Or  I  had  weded  Salton  an  wore  robes  of  read, 
I  rader  wead  Achanace,  we  himbegg  myb[r]ead.' 


1 1  Achanicy  Gordon  came  fra  the  sea, 

We  a  gallant  regment  an  brave  companie  ; 
He  sought  out  his  Jeanie  we  doll  an  we  care, 
An  Achanice  Gordon  is  leak  to  dispear. 

12  Doun  came  her  handmaid,  wringen  her  hands : 

'  Alass  for  your  staying  sa  lang  in  Strang  lands  ! 
For  Jeanie  is  marred,  an  nou  she  is  dead. 
Alass  for  your  staying  sae  lang  on  the  flood  ! ' 


13 


*  Take  me  to  the  room  far  my  love  lays  in  ; ' 

He  has  kessed  her  comly  Ups,  they  wer  paill  an 

wan. 
An  he  dyed  for  his  Jeanie  that  very  same  night. 

1*.  came.    5*.  she  deaded.     12*.  strying. 
12*.  on  doubtful. 


240.  The  Rantin  Laddie. 

P.  352.    B  as  it  stands  in  "  The  Old  Lady's  Collec- 
tion," No  3,  '  The  Rantan  Laddy.' 

1  '  Aft  have  I  played  att  the  cards  an  the  dice. 

They  wer  so  very  entisen, 
But  this  is  a  sad  an  a  sorofull  seat. 
To  see  my  apron  riseng. 

2  '  Aft  ha  I  plad  att  the  cards  an  the  dice. 

For  love  of  my  laddy, 
Bat  nou  I  man  sitt  in  my  father's  kittche-nouk, 
An  roke  my  baby. 

5  '  Bat  gin  I  had  an  of  my  father's  servens. 

For  he  has  so  mony, 
That  wad  gaa  to  the  woods  of  Glentaner 
We  a  letter  to  the  ranten  laddy  I ' 

4  *  Hear  am  I,  an  of  your  father's  servants. 
For  he  has  so  many, 
That  will  gaa  to  the  woods  of  Glentaner 
We  a  letter  to  the  ranten  laddy.' 

6  '  Fan  ye  gee  to  Aboyn, 

To  the  woods  of  Glentaner  sie  bonny. 
We  yer  hat  in  yer  hand,  gee  a  bou  to  the  grond, 
In  the  presenc[e]  of  the  ranten  laddy.' 

6  Fan  he  gad  to  Aboyn, 

To  the  woods  of  Glentaner  saae  bonny, 
We  his  hat  in  his  han,  he  gied  a  bou  to  the  grond, 
In  the  preasence  of  the  ranten  laddy. 

7  Fan  he  louked  the  letter  on, 

Saa  loud  as  he  was  laughing  ; 
Bat  or  he  read  it  to  an  end 

The  tears  they  came  doun  raping. 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


276 


8  *  O  faa  is  this,  or  faa  is  that, 
Has  ben  so  ill  to  my  Meggie? 


9  *  Bat  ye  gett  four-an-tuinty  milk- whit  steads, 
We  an  E  an  O  me  1 
An  as  monny  gay  ladys  to  ride  them  on, 
.  To  gaa  an  bring  hame  my  Meggie. 

10  '  Ye  gett  four-an-tuinty  berrie-broun  steeds, 

We  an  E  an  O  an  O  me ! 
An  as  mony  knights  to  ride  them  one, 
To  gaa  an  bring  hame  my  Meggie.' 

11  Ye  lasses  a',  war  ever  ye  be. 

An  ye  match  we  ony  of  our  Deesid  ladds, 
Ye  '11  happy  be,  ye  '11  happy  be, 
For  they  ar  frank  an  kin. 

12  The  *r  frank  an  kin 

The  'r  free, 
An  ye  match  we  ony  of  our  Deesid  ladds, 
Ye  '11  happy  be. 

93, 102.  ome.    9».  laddys. 

In  Findlay's  MSS,  I,  84  is  this  stanza,  =B  5,  C  12, 
D4: 

'  When  ye  come  to  Aboyne's  yetts, 

Aboyne's  yetts  they  shine  clearly. 
Ye  '11  tak  aff  your  hat,  gie  a  bow  wi  your  knee, 

Gie  the  letter  to  my  rantin  laddie.' 


241.  The  Baron  o  Leys. 

P.  .S55.    Findlay's  MSS,  I,  85,  gives  the  first  stanza 
thus  (from  Mrs  Main,  Inchmarlo,  Kincardineshire). 

The  baron  o  Leys  is  to  London  gane. 

All  in  a  mornin  early ; 
He 's  shod  his  horse  wi  siller  sheen, 

An  shown  them  a*  his  folly. 


245.  Young  Allan. 

376  b,  last  paragraph.  Talking  Ships.  See  Lieb- 
recht,  Zur  Volkskunde,  p,  365  f.,  apropos  of  Arna- 
son's  Skipamdl,  JjjoSsogur,  II,  8.  Arnason  notes  two 
talking  ships  in  Fldamanna  Saga,  c.  36,  and  Liebrecht 
the  Argo. 

377.  A.  The  original,  altered  in  places  by  Skeat, 
stands  as  follows  in  "  The  Old  Lady's  Collection," 
where  it  is  No  4. 

1  Aa  the  skippers  of  merry  Lothen, 
As  they  sat  att  the  wine, 


Ther  fell  a  rosin  them  among. 
An  it  was  in  an  unhappy  time. 

2  Some  of  them  roused  ther  haks. 

An  some  of  them  ther  hounds. 
An  some  of  them  ther  gay  ladys, 

Trood  neat  on  the  plain : 
Young  Allan  he  roused  his  comely  coug, 

That  lay  upon  the  strand. 

3  '  I  haa  as  good  a  ship  this  day 

As  ever  sailled  our  seas. 
Except  it  be  the  Burges  Black, 

Bat  an  the  Small  Cordvine, 
The  comly  coug  of  Dornisdall ; 

We  sail  lay  that  three  bay  in  time.' 

4  Out  spak  a  littel  boy. 

Just  att  Young  Allan's  knee, 
'  Ye  lie,  ye  lie,  ye  Young  Allan, 
Sae  loud  as  I  hear  ye  lie. 

5  '  For  my  master  has  a  littel  boat 

Will  sail  thris  as  well  as  thin  ; 
For  she  '11  come  in  att  your  formast 

An  gee  out  att  yer  forlee. 
An  nine  times  in  a  winter  night 

She  '11  take  the  wine  fra  the. 

6  '  O  fatt  will  ye  wade,  ye  Young  Allan, 

Or  fatt  will  ye  wad  we  me  ?  ' 

*  I  ill  wad  my  head  agenst  yer  land. 

Till  I  gett  more  monie.' 

7  They  hed  na  sailed  a  legg,  [a  legg,] 

A  legg  bat  bairly  three. 
Till  throng  an  throu  ther  bonny  ship 
They  saa  the  green  wall  sea. 

8  They  had  na  sailled  a  leag,  [a  leag,] 

A  leag  bat  barly  fave. 
Till  through  en  throu  ther  bonny  ship 
They  saa  the  green  wall  wave. 

9  He  gied  up  to  the  tapmast, 

To  see  fat  he  coud  see. 
An  ther  he  saa  the  Burges  Black, 

Bat  an  the  Small  Cordvine, 
The  comly  coug  of  Dornasdell  ; 

The  three  was  rent  in  nine. 

10  Young  Allan  he  grat,  an  he  wrang  his  hans, 

An  he  kent  na  fat  till  dee  : 

*  The  win  is  loud,  an  the  waves  is  prood, 

An  we  will  a'  sink  in  the  sea. 

11  '  Bat  gin  I  cod  gett  a  bonny  boy 

To  tak  my  healm  in  han, 
.    .    .     .    that  wad  bring 
My  bonny  ship  safe  to  Ian, 


276 


ADDITIONS  AND   CORRECTIONS 


12  '  He  sud  gett  the  tua  part  of  my  goud, 

An  the  therd  part  of  my  Ian, 
An  gin  me  wine  safe  to  shor 
He  sud  gett  my  daughter  Ann.' 

13  '  Hear  am  I,  a  bonny  boy 

That  will  take  yer  helm  in  han, 
.     .     .     .     an  will  bring 
Your  bonny  ship  safe  to  land. 

14  *  Ye  take  four-an-twenty  fether-beds, 

An  ye  lay  the  bonny  ship  roun, 
An  as  much  of  the  good  cannis 
As  make  her  hell  an  soun.' 

15  They  took  four-an-twenty  fether-beds, 

An  laid  the  bonny  ship  roun, 
An  as  much  of  the  good  canies 
As  made  her  hell  an  soun. 

16  '  Spring  up,  my  bony  ship, 

An  goud  sail  be  yer  hair ! ' 
Fan  the  bonny  ship  hard  of  that, 

Att  goud  sud  be  her  hire. 
She  sprang  as  fast  fra  the  sate  water 

As  the  spark  dis  frae  the  fire. 

1 7  *  Spring  up,  my  bonny  ship, 

An  goud  sail  be  yer  fee  I ' 
An  fan  the  bonny  ship  hard  of  that, 

Goud  was  to  be  her  fee. 
She  sprang  as  fast  fra  the  sat  water 

As  the  life  dos  fra  the  tree. 

18  The  salors  stans  on  the  shore-sid, 

We  ther  ill-bukled  shen  : 
'  Thanks  to  God  an  our  gued  master 
That  ever  we  came  to  land ! ' 

19  '  Far  is  the  bonny  boy 

That  took  my  healm  in  hand  ? 
.     .     .     .     that  brought 

My  bonny  ship  safe  to  land? 

20  *  He  's  gett  the  twa  part  of  my  goud, 

The  therd  part  of  my  Ian, 
An  since  we  ha  wone  safe  to  shore 
He 's  gett  my  doughter  Ann.' 

21  'Hear  am  I,  the  bonny  boy 

That  took  yer  healm  in  han, 
That  brought  yer  bonny  ship, 
An  brought  her  safe  to  Ian. 

22  'I  winne  ha  the  tua  part  of  yer  goud. 

Nor  the  therd  part  of  yer  Ian, 

Bat  since  we  ha  wine  safe  to  shor 

I  will  wed  yer  daugter  Ann.' 


23  Fortey  ships  went  to  the  sea. 
Forty  ships  an  five, 
An  ther  came  never  on  back 
Bat  Young  Allan  alive. 

9^  comly  cord.     12^  20*,  22*.  Anna. 

172.*.  hire ybr  fee  (caught  from  16). 

232.  ane  changed  to  Five. 

Written  without  division  into  stanzas  or  verses. 


246.  Bedesdale  and  Wise  William. 

P.  383.     There  is  a  copy  in  C.  K.  Sharpe's  "  second 
collection "   which  is    substantially  the    same    as   A. 
The  variations  here  follow : 
A  b.  12.  Was.     18.  There  was  a  praising. 

1*.  In  an  unhappy. 

2^.  For  some  ones  they  did  praise. 

2*.  And  wanting.     3\  That  out  did  speak. 

38.  Says,  I  saw  never  a. 

3^  But  what  I  would  her  favour  gain.* 

38.  With  one  blink  of.     3«,  4«.  eye. 

4^.  out  did  speak.     4^.  spoke. 

4^  Whose  favour  you  would  never  gain.     5^.  you. 

After  5  :  *  That  is  too  good  a  wager,  William, 
Upon  a  woman's  mind, 
It  is  to[o]  good  a  wager  Wil[lia]m, 
I  'm  very  sure  you  '1  tyne.' 

6^.  So.     6*.  he  could  neither  go.     6*.  Nor  no. 

7\  has  wrote  a  broad.     7*.  his  only. 

8^.  read  the  letter  over.     8^.  She  looked. 

8*.  enough.     9K  she  saw.     9*.  riding  throw. 

10^  Sa,ya  wanting :  Come  hitherward. 

10'.  here  does  come.     10*.  For  injury  to  me. 

11\  Come  down,  come  down,  said  Reedesdale. 

11*.  One  sight  of  you  I  '11  see.     11^.  my  gate. 

12,  13,  wanting. 

14  '  Come  down,  come  down,  O  lady  fair. 

One  sight  of  you  I  '11  see. 

And  bony  is  the  rings  of  gold 

That  I  will  give  to  thee.' 

15  ♦  If  you  have  boney  rings  of  gold, 

0  mine  is  bony  tee  ; 

Go  from  my  gate  now,  Reedesdale, 
For  me  you  will  not  see.* 

16  '  Come  down,  come  down,  O  lady  fair. 

One  sight  of  you  I  '11  see. 
And  boney  is  the  bowers  and  halls 
That  I  will  give  to  the.' 

1 7  ♦  If  you  have  boney  bowers  and  halls, 

1  have  bowers  and  halls  the  same ; 
Go  from  my  gate  now,  Reedesdale, 

For  down  I  will  not  come.' 


ADDITIONS  AND   CORRECTIONS 


277 


18-21  wanting.     22K  O  lady.     22^.  Or  then. 
22*.  Since.     23i.  So  he  has  set  that  bower. 
232.  the  house  it  took.     24  wanting, 

25  '  Come  hitherward,'  the  lady  cried, 
'  My  maidens  all,  to  me ; 
For  throw  the  smoak  and  throw  the  heat, 
All  throw  it  we  must  be.' 

26^.  their  mantles. 

268.  Xndi  throw  the  smoak  and  throw  the  heat. 

26*.  They  throw  it  all  did  win. 

271.  had  all  got  safely  out.     272.  able  for. 

27*.  Sent  some  of  them  to. 

28^.  Have  not  I  gaind. 
The  Danish  ballad    VaBddemaalet,'  Grundtvig,  No 
224,  spoken  of  under  '  The  Twa  Knights,'  ought  to 
have  been  noticed  here  also. 


262.  The  Kitohie  Boy. 

P.  401.    A  as  it  stands  in  "  The  Old  Lady's  Collec- 
tion," No  20. 

1  Ther  was  a  lady  fair  an  rear, 

A  lady  of  birth  an  fame, 
She  loyed  her  father's  kittchen-boy, 
The  greater  was  her  shame. 

2  She  coud  never  her  love  revell, 

Nor  to  him  take. 
Bat  in  the  forests  weed  an  brade, 
Far  they  wer  wont  to  wake. 

3  It  fell  ance  apon  a  day 

Her  father  went  fra  home, 
An  she  sent  for  the  kitche-boy 
Into  her  room. 


8  They  hadne  kissed  an  love-claped, 
As  lovers  fan  they  meatt. 


9  *  The  master-cook  he  will  on  me  call, 
An  ansured  he  man  be ; 
In  it  war  kent  I  war  in  hour  we  the, 
I  fear  they  woud  gar  me  diei. ' 

10  *  The  master-cook  may  on  ye  call, 

But  ansured  he  will  never  be. 
For  I  haa  thrie  coffers  fue  of  goud, 
Yer  eyen  did  never  see. 

11  '  An  I  will  buld  a  bony  ship  for  my  love. 

An  sett  her  to  the  seea, 
An  saill  she  east,  or  saill  she  west. 
The  ship  sail  be  fair  to  see.' 

12  She  has  buld  a  bonny  ship, 

An  sett  her  to  the  sea ; 
The  top-masts  was  of  the  read  goud. 
The  saill  of  taffety. 

13  She  gaie  him  a  gay  gold  ring, 

To  mind  him  on  a  gay  lady 
That  ance  bair  love  to  him. 

14  The  day  was  fair,  the  ship  was  rair, 

Fan  that  suan  sett  to  sea  ; 
Fan  that  day  tuall-month  came  an  gade, 
Att  London  landed  he. 

15  A  lady  louked  our  castell-wa. 

Beheld  the  day  gaa  doun. 
An  she  beheld  that  bonny  ship,  • 
Came  hallins:  to  the  toun. 


4  '  Canna  ye  fance  me,  Willie? 

Cannie  ye  fance  me  ? 
By  a'  the  lords  I  ever  seed, 

Ther  is  nane  I  cane  loie  bat  ye.' 

5  '  O  latt  ne  this  be  kent,  lady, 

0  lat  ne  this  be  knouen. 

For  in  yer  father  got  word  of  this, 

1  vou  he  wad  gare  me  die.' 

6  '  Yer  life  sail  na  be  tane,  Willie, 

Yer  life  sail  na  be  tean; 
I  rader  loss  my  ain  heart-blead 
Or  thy  body  gat  wrang.' 

7  We  her  mery  fair  spiches 

She  made  the  boy  bold. 

Till  he  began  to  kiss  an  clap, 

An  on  his  love  lay  hold. 


16  '  Come  hear,  come  hear,  my  maires  a% 

Ye  see  na  fat  I  see  ; 
The  bonnest  ship  is  coming  to  land 
Yer  eyen  did  ever  see. 

17  *  Ye  busk  ye,  busk  ye,  my  marres  a*. 

Ye  busk  ye  unco  fine, 
Till  I  gaa  doun  to  yon  shore-side 
To  invite  yon  squar  to  dine. 

18  '  O  ye  come  up,  ye  gay  young  squar, 

An  take  we  me  a  dine  ; 
Ye  sail  eatt  of  the  gued  white  lofe. 
An  drink  the  claret  wine.' 

19  '  I  thank  ye  for  yer  bread, 

I  thank  ye  for  yer  wine, 
I  thank  ye  for  yer  courtice. 
Bat  indeed  I  hanna  time.' 


278 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


20  *  Canna  ye  fance  me  ? '  she  says, 

'  Cannie  ye  fance  me  ? 
Bay  a'  the  lords  an  lairds  I  see, 
Ther  is  nane  I  fance  bat  ye.'    . 

21  *  They  are  farr  awa  fra  me,*  he  says, 

'  The  'r  farr  ayont  the  sea, 
That  has  my  heart  an  hand, 
An  my  love  ay  sail  be.' 

22  *  Hear  is  a  gued  gould  ring. 


It  will  mind  ye  on  a  gay  lady 
That  ance  bare  love  to  ye.* 

23  '  I  haa  a  ring  on  my  finger 

I  lee  thrice  as  well  as  thine, 
Tho  yours  war  of  the  gued  read  goud, 
An  mine  bat  simpell  tin.* 

24  The  day  was  fair,  the  ship  was  rair. 

Fan  that  squar  sett  to  sea  ; 
Fan  that  day  tuall-month  came  an  gaid, 
Att  hame  again  landed  he. 

25  The  lady's  father  louked  over  castell-wa. 

Beheld  the  day  gaa  doun. 

An  he  beheld  that  bonny  ship 

Come  hailing  to  the  toun. 

26  *  Come  hear,  my  a  dother. 

Ye  see  na  fat  I  see  ; 
The  bonnest  ship  is  coming  to  land 
My  eyen  did  ever  see. 

27  *  Ye  busk  ye,  my  dother, 

Ye  busk  ye  unco  fine. 
An  I  ill  gai  doun  to  yon  shore-side 

An  invite  yon  squer  to  dine  : 
I  wad  gie  a*  my  reants 

To  haa  ye  marred  to  him.* 


28  '  They  ar  farr  awa  fra  me,'  she 
'  The  'r  far  ayont  the  sea, 
That  has  my  heart  an  hand. 
An  my  love  ay  sail  be.* 


29  '  O  will  ye  come,  ye  gay  hine  squar, 

An  take  we  me  a  dine? 
Ye  sail  eat  of  the  gued  fait  bread 
An  drink  the  claret  wine.* 

30  *  I  thank  ye  for  yer  bread, 

I  thank  ye  for  your  wine, 
I  thank  ye  for  your  courtisy. 
For  indeed  I  haa  na  grait  time.* 

31  '  O  cannie  ye  fance  me?  *  [he  says, 

'  Cannie  ye  fance  me  ?] 


By  a'  the  ladys  I  ever  did  see, 
Ther  is  nain  I  lue  bat  ye.' 

32  '  They  are  farr  awa  fra  me,'  she  says, 

They  are  farr  ayont  the  sea, 
That  has  my  heart  an  han. 
An  my  love  ay  sail  be.' 

33  '  Hear  it  is,  a  gay  goud  ring, 

It  will  mind  ye  on  a  gay  hin  chill 
That  ance  bare  love  to  ye.* 

34  '  O  gatt  ye  that  ring  on  the  sea  saling? 

Or  gat  ye  it  on  the  sand  ? 
Or  gat  ye  it  on  the  shore  laying, 
On  a  drouned  man's  hand? ' 

35  *  I  got  na  it  on  the  sea  saling, 

I  got  na  it  on  the  sand, 
Bat  I  gat  it  on  the  shore  laying. 
On  a  drouned  man's  hand. 


36  *  O  bonny  was  his  chike. 

And  lovely  was  his  face  ! ' 
♦  Alass,'  says  she,  *it  is  my  true-love  Willie, 


37  He  turned  him  rond  about. 

An  suitly  could  he  smill  ; 
She  turned  her  round,  says.  My  love  Willie, 
Hou  could  ye  me  biggeall? 

38  '  A  prist,  a  prist,'  the  old  man  crayed, 

*  Latt  this  tua  marred  be  : ' 

Bat  lettel  did  the  old  man  keen 

It  was  his  ain  kittchen-boy. 

4*.  I  came.    7*.  her  love.    28'.  seas.    35*.  laiying. 


257.  Burd  Isabel  and  Earl  Patrick. 

P.  418  b,  3d  paragraph.  Say  :  A  7  (nearly)  occurs 
in  No  91,  B  7,  II,  313,  and  something  similar  in  other 
places  (as  No  91,  A  5,  6,  D  7,  No  92,  B  17). 

422.  C.  There  is  another  copy  of  this  version  in 
C.  K.  Sharpe's  "  second  collection,"  with  the  following 
variations. 

b.  1^.  Take  warning,  all  ye  maidens  fair. 
2*.  father's  heir.     2*.  she  did  rue  full  sair. 
81.  Says,  We.     32.  Which.     38.  Go  ye. 
4*.  He  hied  him  to  the. 

42.  As  fast  as  he  could  gang.    4^.  And  he  brought 
4*.  sign  with. 

5.  And  long  before  the  sun  went  down 
Bird  Isabeal  bore  his  son, 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


279 


And  she  has  called  him  Patrick, 
As  it  was  his  father's  name. 

62,  72.  Right  far.     6«.  parents  was. 
6^  Had  little  gear.     7*.  And  dowrey. 

8.  Now  it  fell  out  up  on  a  time 
His  wedding  day  was  come, 
And  all  his  friends  invited  were. 
His  bride  to  welcome  home. 

While  every  one  engaged  was 

That  all  should  ready  be, 
He  hied  him  to  his  great-grand  aunt. 

She  was  a  lady  free. 

9*.  Says,  Go  for  me  this.     9^.  O  do  go  it  for  me. 

9*.  I'll  do  as  much.     10^.  Go  bring  to. 

10^,  Dress  him  in  silk. 

10'.  For  if  he  lives  and  bruiks  his  life. 

10*.  He  is  to  heir  my. 

11^  hailing  through  the  closs.     12^.  I  am  come. 

122,  Press  him  in  silk.     12*.  lives. 

131,  14^.  O  was.     138.  that  bairn  from  my  foot. 

142.  Altho  in  station  high. 

14'.  Durst  take  that  bairn  from. 

15^»2.  Now  she  got  frowning  throw  the  closs, 

And  frowning  on  the  floor. 
15*.  And  he. 
16^' 2.  O  this  was  the  worst  errand,  Patrick, 

That  ever  I  went  for  the. 
16'.  Bird  Isabeal. 
1 7^«2,  jje  looked  right  surprised  like, 

Amazed  like  looked  he. 
17*.  She  was  never. 

18^  And  he  went  hailing  throw  the  closs. 
201,  211.  I  say. 

20'.  Dare  take  that  bairn  from  my  foot. 
212.  Altho  in  station  high.    21'.  Dare  take  that. 
22*.  You  wont  get. 


259.  Lord  Thomas  Stuaxt. 

P.  425.  Found  in  a  MS.  of  Charles  Kirkpatrick 
Sharpe,  and  in  "North  Country  Ballads,"  Miscellanea 
Curiosa,  Abbotsford  Library,  which  is  another  copy  of 
the  same  pieces. 

Sharpe,  p.  5.     1^.  Thomas  Steuart  he. 

1'.  mukle  mean  (an  erasure  before  mean). 

1'.  the  coat.     S\  wemen's  wits  is.    41.  steeds  was, 

5'.  so  sick.     Q\  no  leech. 

71,  leeches  is  come  and  leeches  is  gone.     P.  I  am. 

9'.  lands  and.     10'.  got  all  my  lands. 

Ill,  in  their,     ll'.  could  not.     11'.  leesh. 

13'.  And  as. 

14'.  I  fear  it  may  be  mony  unco  lord. 

14*.  from  the.     15'.  I  fear  it  is  mony  unco  lord. 

With  variations  0/ spelling  not  noted. 


Scott  {as  above,  except)   1^.  mickle  land :  land  was 
perhaps  the  word  which  is  blotted  out  in  Sharpe. 
31.  women's. 


263.  The  New-Slain  Knight. 
P.  434  b.     Translated  also  by  Gerhard,  p.  168. 


VOL.  V. 


266.  John  Thomson  and  the  Turk. 

P.  3  b.  There  may  be  added  another  Little- Russian 
story  communicated  to  me  in  translation  by  Professor 
Wollner  :  Ethnographic  Survey,  etc.  (Etnograficeskoe 
Obozrenie,  etc.)     Moscow,  1893,  V,  104. 

A  tsar  and  a  tsarina,  when  dying,  charged  their  son 
Soliman   not  to  marry  a  woman   older  than  himself. 
This,  however,  he  did,  and  his  wife  hated  him,  and  one 
day,  when  he  was  hunting,  went  ofE  to  her  brother, 
ordering  the  servants  to  say  that  she  had  died.     This 
report  the  servants  duly  made,  but  Soliman  knew  that 
his  wife  had  gone  to  her  brother,  and  he  felt  the  loss 
so  much  that  he  could  not  keep  away  from  her.    Meet- 
inf  a  boy  in  tattered  clothes,  he  changed  with  him, 
gave  the  boy  everything  he  had  on  except  his  ring,  and 
put  on  rags,  to  play  the  beggar.     He  proceeded  to  the 
brother's  house,  and  seeing  his  wife  sitting  at  a  win- 
dow, held  out  his  hand,  on  which  his  ring  was  spark- 
ling, and  asked  an  alms.     His  wife  knew  him  at  once 
by  the  ring,  and  bade  him  come  in,     '  Who  are  you  ?  ' 
she  asked.     '  Once  I  was  a  tsar,'  he  said,  *  but  my  wife 
died,  and  I   became  a  beggar.*     At  this   point  the 
brother  arrived  on  the  scene.     The  woman  told  Soli- 
man to  lie  down  on  the  threshold;  he  did  so,  and  she 
sat  down  on  him.    When  her  brother  came  in  she  said, 
*  Guess  what  I  am  sitting  on.*    He  answered,  *  On  the 
threshold.'   'Wrong,' said  she;  '  on  Tsar  Soliman.'  'If 
it  is  he,'  said  her  brother,  'I  will  cut  his  head  oflF.' 
But  here  Soliman  suggested  that  if  the  brother  should 
take  his  head  off  on  the  spot,  nobody  would  know  that 
he  had  killed  a  tsar  ;  whereas  if  he  would  build   a 
three-story  gallows  and  hang  Soliman   on  it,  all  the 
world  would  see  that  he  had  been  the  death  of  a  tsar 
and  not  of  a  beggar.     So  a  three  -  story  gallows  was 
built,  and  as  they  were  taking  Soliman  up  to  the  first 
stage,  he  said.  Give  me  a  horn,  to  cheer  my  heart  for 
the  last  time.     They  gave  him  a  horn  and  he  began  to 
blow,  Quick,  quick,  dear  soldiers,  for  my  death  and 
end  is  nigh.     A  black  regiment  set  out  for  the  place. 
Bystanders  said,  Tsar  Soliman,  you  are  up  high  and 
see  far  :  what  is  the  black  thing  coming  along  the  hill  ? 
'My  death,  which  gleams  black  in  the  distance.'    Soli- 
man mounted  to  the  second  stage  and  blew  his  horn 


280 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


again  :  Quick,  quick,  dear  soldiers,  my  death  and  end 
is  nigh.  He  saw  a  white  regiment  coming.  The 
people  said,  Tsar  Soliman,  you  are  high  up  and  see 
far:  what  is  that  white  thing  which  is  coming?  My 
death,  which  gleams  white  in  the  distance.  Then 
Soliman  mounted  to  the  third  stage  and  blew  Quick, 
quick,  dear  soldiers,  my  death  and  end  is  nigh,  and  he 
saw  a  red  regiment  coming.  The  people  asked,  what 
red  thing  was  coming.  My  death,  which  gleams  red 
in  the  distance.*  Then  the  black  regiment  came  up, 
after  it  the  white,  and  finally  the  red  ;  they  slew  Soli- 
man's  wife  and  her  brother,  took  Soliman  down  from 
the  gallows,  and  rode  home. 

8.  Danish.  Through  the  friendly  help  of  Dr.  Axel 
Olrik  I  am  now  in  a  position  to  say  that  there  is  one 
fundamental  text  A,  in  MSS  of  1600  and  1615,  from 
which  all  the  others  are  derived.  In  the  seventeenth 
century  A  was  expanded  from  forty  to  eighty-two 
couplets.  B,  the  original  of  the  expanded  copy,  is 
found  in  a  MS.  of  1635;  from  B  come  the  other  five 
later  MS.  texts,  the  flying-sheet  of  1719,  Kristensen's 
fragment,  and  some  recent  copies. 

A.  King  David,  after  betrothing  the  incomparable 
Suol-far,  has  to  go  on  a  cruise.  He  proposes  that  the 
lady  stay  with  his  mother  while  he  is  away,  but  Suol- 
far  does  not  like  this  arrangement.  Then,  says  the 
king,  I  shall  bind  your  finger  with  gold,  so  that  I  can 
find  you  wherever  you  may  be.  Hardly  is  King  David 
gone,  when  King  Adell  rides  up.  Suol-far  is  out  of 
doors,  brushing  her  hair  ;  Adell  asks  if  he  may  put  a 
gold  crown  on  it.  If  God  grants  King  David  to  come 
home  with  honor,  she  will  soon  have  a  gold  crown  to 
wear,  she  says.  Adell  wishes  to  hear  no  more  of 
David,  and  asks  Suol-far  to  plight  herself  to  him  ;  she 
will  not,  she  has  given  her  troth  to  King  David.  Adell 
gives  her  sleeping  potions  five,  sleeping  potions  nine  ; 
she  swoons,  is  taken  to  be  dead,  and  is  buried  in  the 
church.  Late  in  the  evening  Adell  goes  to  the  tomb  ; 
the  effect  of  the  potions  having  passed  o£E,  Suol-far 
rises.  Adell  asks  her  to  go  off  with  him,  and  after  some 
tears  Suol-far  permits  him  to  take  her  away.  It  had 
been  supposed  that  there  was  no  witness,  but  a  little 
page  was  listening,  and  when  King  David  came  home 
the  page  gave  him  the  bad  tidings  that  King  Adell 
had  carried  Suol-far  out  of  the  country.  David  goes 
in  quest,  disguised  as  a  pilgrim.  He  finds  the  pair 
sitting  on  a  stone,  resting  their  weary  legs,  and  asks  an 
alms.  Adell  gives  something,  and  Suol-far  is  at  least 
about  so  to  do,  for  David  asks,  Is  it  not  the  way  in  this 
country  to  give  money  with  bare  hand?  whereupon  she 
pulls  off  her  glove  and  gives.  David  (seeing  of  course 
the  token  on  her  finger)  draws  his  sword  and  kills 
Adell.  He  then  asks  Suol-far  how  she  came  to  break 
her  troth.  Adell  gave  her  nine  drinks,  which  made 
her  fall  dead  to  the  earth,  but,  thank  God,  she  had 
been  kept  from  sin.     David  loves  her  so  dearly  that  he 

*  In  the  original,  apparently  by  exchange  of  like  sound- 
ing words,  My  death  which  is  cut  short ;  that  is,  I  suppose, 
prevented  or  postponed. 


is  easily  satisfied;  he  orders  his  wedding,  and  their 
troubles  are  over. 

The  flying-sheet  of  1719  (in  seventy-three  couplets) 
exhibits  some  differences.  King  David  marries  Salfehr 
before  he  goes  on  his  expedition,  and  gives  the  land 
into  Adel's  care  during  his  absence.  After  the  queen 
has  fallen  aswoon  in  consequence  of  the  nine  drinks, 
King  Adel  sends  word  to  King  David  that  she  is  dead. 
After  the  interment,  Adel  remains  in  the  church  and 
digs  up  Salfehr.  He  addresses  her  as  his  dearest;  she 
refuses  to  be  so  called.  Adel  tells  her  that  David  is 
dead,  and  asks  her  if  she  will  follow  him  out  of  the 
land.  She  will  follow  him  very  willingly  if  she  may 
hear  of  no  grief  to  King  David  (whatever  that  may 
mean),  and  Adel  wraps  her  in  a  cloak  and  lifts  her  on 
his  gray.  There  had  been  watchmen  in  the  church, 
and  they  tell  David  that  Adel  is  off  with  Salfehr. 
David  has  pilgrim's  clothes  made  for  himself  and  many 
of  his  men.  While  asking  alms,  David  gives  the  queen 
to  understand  that  he  is  her  husband  ;  then  turning  to 
Adel  says,  I  entrusted  my  kingdom  to  you,  and  did  not 
look  to  be  deceived.  Upon  this  he  orders  his  troop  to 
spare  none  of  Adel's  men,  and  himself  hews  Adel  in 
pieces.  The  queen  falls  at  his  feet  and  begs  forgive- 
ness. The  easy  king  says,  I  know  the  fault  was  not 
thine,  lifts  her  on  his  horse,  and  goes  home. 

The  two  Swedish  copies  in  Stephen's  collection 
are  fragments  of  eight  and  of  fifteen  stanzas.  In  the 
first  (from  Sedermanland),  King  David  having  dug  up 
the  coffin  and  found  it  empty,  disguises  himself  as  a 
pilgrim,  and  when  asking  an  alms  of  Solfager  says, 

Travelled  have  I  by  water  and  land, 
But  never  took  alms  from  a  gloved  hand. 

'  Who  are  you  for  a  vagabond,  that  never  took  alms 
from  a  gloved  hand?  '  says  Solfager.  '  Never  was  I  a 
vagabond,  but  often  have  I  kissed  Solfager's  hand,'  he 
replies.  Solfager  jumps  into  his  arms,  exclaiming,  I 
never  can  believe  you  are  my  former  true-love. 

In  the  other  (from  Smaland),  after  the  abduction  of 
Solfager,  David  takes  staff  in  hand  and  goes  to  a 
strange  land.  He  presents  himself  where  the  pair  are 
sitting  at  table,  and  asks  an  alms.  Solfager  gives  him 
alms  once  and  twice,  but  the  beggar  is  not  satisfied. 
Needy  vagrant,  she  says,  take  alms  where  you  can  ; 
insatiable  vagrant,  take  alms  where  you  get  most.  I 
was  no  vagrant,  he  answers,  when  I  put  gold  rings  on 
Solfager's  arm;  I  was  no  vagrant  when  I  slept  by  Sol- 
fager. Her  tears  come  ;  she  can  never  believe  that  he 
is  David,  her  true-love.  She  takes  David  in  her  arms. 
Praise  to  God,  he  cries,  that  I  am  still  her  husband  I 

271.  The    Lord    of    Lorn    and    the   False 
Steward. 

P.  45.  Other  Russian  popular  tales  in  which  the 
characteristic  traits  of  the  group  spoken  of  are  well 
preserved:  Afanasief,  V,  178,  No  37,  ed.  1861,  I,  239, 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


281 


No  67  b,  ed.  1873,  •  Tsarevitch  i  yevo  Sluga ; '  *  Koro- 
levitch  i  yevo  Djadka,'  the  same,  VIII,  170,  No  18, 
ed.  1863, 1,  233,  No  67  a,  ed.  1873;  Khudyakof,  II,  33, 
No  44,  «Udivitelny  Muzhitchek;'  the  same.  III,  143, 
No  115,  '  Muzhitchenko  s  Kulatchenko.'  A  tsar's  son 
delivers  a  prisoner ;  is  condemned  to  leave  the  country 
with  a  servant  (tutor,  warden) ;  having  been  let  down 
into  a  well  to  drink,  is  forced  to  change  positions  and 
clothes  with  his  attendant ;  serves  as  herdsman,  horse- 
boy, cook,  the  attendant  aspiring  to  marry  a  king's 
dauorhter  ;  destroys  three  dragons  (a  seven-headed  mon- 
ster in  the  second,  the  fourth  defective  here)  ;  marries 
the  princess,  the  servant  or  tutor  being  put  to  death 
(baited  with  dogs  in  the  third,  set  to  work  in  the 
stable  in  the  fourth).* 

Afanasief,  IV,  72,  ed.  1873,  refers  to  other  Russian 
versions,  and  gives,  p.  73  f.,  the  Russian  form  of  *  The 
Goose-Girl.' 

46  b.  Add:  (P.)  Ivan  Tsarevitch  i  Martha-Tsar- 
evna,  Afanasief,  I,  227,  No  21, 1863,  I,  246,  No  68, 
1873.  (G.)  'Masenzhni  Dzjadok,' the  same,  V,  185, 
No  38,  1861,  I,  254,  No  69,  1873.  (H.)  «Kio'sut,' 
Sbornik  of  the  Bulgarian  Ministry  of  Education,  IIT, 
II,  222.  (I.)  '  Der  Konigssohn  und  der  Bartlose,' 
Hahn,  Griechische  u.  Albanesische  Marchen,  I,  233,  No 
37.  (1.)  The  son  of  a  king  liberates  a  prisoner  (man 
of  iron  and  copper,  bird  with  human  voice),  F,  Q 
(stealing  the  key  from  his  mother,  G).  (2.)  The 
prince  is  under  the  necessity  of  leaving  the  country, 
F-I  (is  attended  by  a  beardless  man,  H,  I).  (3.)  To 
get  out  of  a  well  has  to  consent  to  change  clothes  and 
position  (with  the  beardless  man,  whom  he  had  allowed 
to  join  him,  or  who  had  been  hired  as  horse-driver), 
H,  I.  (4.)  King's  daughter  (fair  maid  with  golden 
locks,  I)  aspired  to  by  a  low  fellow,  F,  H,  I.  (5.)  Prince 
figures  as  stable-boy  or  scullion,  F,  G,  I,  kills  three 
dragons,  F,  defeats  an  army,  G,  accomplishes  three 
tasks,  H,  I.  (6.)  Prince  marries  princess,  F,  G,  H 
(marries  Golden  Locks,  I),  treacherous  competitor  ban- 
ished, P,  hanged,  H,  thrown  into  boiling  oil,  I.* 


274.  Our  Goodman. 

P.  89  f.  French.  Add:  La  Tradition,  VU,  145, 
Le  Quercy. 

276.  Get  up  and  bar  the  Door. 

P.  95.  Add  two  other  Eastern  stories  :  '  The  Farmer, 
his  Wife  and  the  Open  Door,'  in  Swynnerton's  Indian 
Nights  Entertainment,  1892,  p.  14,  No  11;  '  The  Beg- 
gar and  the  Five  Muffins '  (of  the  second  set).  Folk- 
lore in  Southern  India  by  Pandet  Natesd  Sdstri,  p.  277, 

*  I  have  to  thank  Professor  Wollner  for  giving  me  in 
translation  the  two  tales  from  Afanasief  and  a  Bulgarian 
tale  presently  to  be  mentioned. 

t  In  the  Greek  tale,  I,  the  prince  confides  his  tronble  to 
VOL.  v.  36 


No  22,  and  Tales  of  the  Sun,  by  Mrs  Howard  Kings- 
cote  and  the  same,  p.  280,  No  25.  (Both  cited  by  Mr 
Clouston,  in  The  Athenaeum,  March  18,  1893.) 


To  be  Corrected  in  the  Print. 

I,  62,  68.  A.  The  Jamieson-Brown  MS.  should  be 
cited  by  pages,  not  by  folios.  This  correction  applies 
also  to  Nos  6  b,  10  B,  a,  32  a,  34  B,  a,  35,  53,  A,  C, 
a,  62  E,  63  B,  a,  65  A,  76  D,  82,  96  A,  97  A,  a,  98 
A,  99  A,  101  A,  103  A. 

69  b,  611.  jigafi  ranked. 

138  a,  B  c,  112.  I  '11.    b,  261,  271,  281.    MS.  tune 

(copy  wrong). 
305  b,  notes,  lOi.  tauchty,  etc.    Drop. 
342,  391.     Read  what. 
482  a,  D.     Insert  13^.  bone. 

II,  32  b,  6th  line  from  below.     For  H  read  J. 

101  b,  5th  line  of  last  paragraph.     Read  II,  246. 
101  b,  last  line  but  four.    Read  II,  245. 
128  b,  2d  line  of  2d  paragraph.    Read  B  18. 
169  a,  last  line  but  two.     Supply  A  before  2*. 
234  a,  5th  line,     larf  is  dropped  in  Herd  II. 
316  a,  notes,  6^.     Read  bowers. 
367  a,  C  346.     The  MS.  reading  is  dead  syne. 
373  b,  212.     jiead  grey. 

429  a,  last  line  but  three  of  text.     Read  80  for  83. 
477  a,  D.     All  the  variations  except  111,  144^  apply 
to  C,  not  to  D. 

III,  11  b,  last  line  but  two.     Supply  C  before  48. 
49  a,  12th  line.    Read  alcaldes. 

51  b,  last  two  lines.  Read  (extracted  from  His- 
toire  Litt.  de  la  France,  XXX),  p.  49. 

122  b,  6th  line.     Read  No  135. 

146  a,  14*.     Read  delt^r  felt  (felt,  all  copies). 

179  b,  52.    Read  clutt  for  cliitt. 

183  a,  notes,  A  52.  Add :  clutt  was  no  doubt  in- 
tended. 

230,  598.    Read  kickle. 

230,  702.     jiead  For  which. 

232,  1081.     Head  unpossible. 

232,  116*.     Read  leave  out. 

477  a,  line  6.     Read  Laird's. 

516  a,  95,  line  7.     Read  Birkbeck. 

517  b,  last  paragraph  of  96,  last  line  but  one. 
Read  des. 

518  b.     The  notes  to  HI,  44  belong  under  No  117. 

IV,  33  a,  last  line  but  one.    Read  lO^. 
44  b,  92,     Read  as  he. 

254  b,  notes.     For  J  read  K. 
275  a,  B  b,  6i.     Read  white-milk. 

281  a,  22.     Read  and  bane. 

282  a,  32.     Read  behind  my. 

an  old  lame  horse.  The  coincidence  here  with  the  ballad 
does  not  go  very  far,  and  may  be  an  accident,  but  may  be 
more  than  that. 


282 


ADDITIONS  AND  CORRECTIONS 


288  a,  E,  3*.    Read  toss.     P  is  in  the  handwrit- 
ing of  John  Hill  Burton. 

290  b,  line  6.     Read  T. 

291  b,  notes,  E,  3*.     Drop. 
331  b,  8^    Read  out  fo7-  not. 

339  b,  lines  5,  6.     Read  Belhelvie,  the  name  of  an 

Aberdeenshire  parish. 
387  b,  last  line  but  one  of  note.     Read  owes  its. 
892,  21^     Read  you  for  yon. 

408  a,  notes,  A,  2d  line.     Read  22*,  33*.     Cf.  13*. 
437  b,  251.     Head  Well  fells. 
440  b,  4,  3d  paragraph,  line  3.    Read  Coussemaker. 
447  b,  note  to  5,  after  st.  17.    Read  in  a. 
455  a,  3*.     Read  wi  gowd. 

470  a,  202,  212.     jiead  A'. 

471  a,  372,  38*.     Read  A'. 
481  a,  I,  1^.     Read  your  hand. 

499  b,  line  8  from  below.      Insert  the  title,  *  The 
Battle  of  Otterburn.' 

513  b,  A  A,  line  4,     Read  my  heir. 

514  b,  181.     jiead  Out  then. 

516  a,  B  b,  42.     Read  that /or  thus. 

524  a,  3d  line.     Read  George  Mitchell. 

525  a,  IV,  34  b,  B.     Omit  the  second  sentence. 

Trivial  Corrections  of  Spelling. 

I,  138  a,  B  c,  52.     Read  brest. 

II,  129  b,  212.     Eeadsa,it. 
191  a,  188.     Jiead  of. 
191  a,  191.     Read  on. 
191  a,  258.    Read  our. 
814  a,  D  12.     Read  wi. 
315  a,  D  8*.     Read  mak. 

372  b,  notes,  76.«,  lines  1,  3,  4.     Read  her. 


373  a,  141.     Read 

373  b,  16».*,  1st  line.     Read  her. 

III,  183  a,  A  52.     Read  cliitt. 

IV,  260  a,  78.     Read  Hielands. 

275  a,  B  b,  62.     Read  over  :  over. 

275  a,  B  b,  7*.     Read  son,  were. 

297  a,  111.     Jiead  ladie. 

312  b,  91.     Read  o  gold. 

312  b,  101.2.    Read  steppet,  walket. 

371  a,  78.     Read  hale. 

372  b,  172.     Read  hame. 
387  a,  11.     Read  brent  is. 
444  b,  18.     Read  bringin. 
464  a,  line  8.     Read  ravns. 
456  a,  82.     Read  bleam. 
461  b,  221.     Jiead  But. 
464  a,  61.     Read  when. 
468  b,  58,     Read  yow. 

470  a,  201.    Jiead  four-a-twontie. 
470  a,  211.     Read  four-an-twontie. 
473  b,  421.     Jiead  cri'd. 
479,  72.    Read  we. 
498,  17*,  208,    Read  weddet,  mintet. 
616  a,  B,  between  52  and  58.      Read  yow  took, 
Yow  promisd. 


Supplementary. 

I,  303,  D  5,   taipy-tapples.     The  MS.  has  saipy- 

sapples. 
V,  18  a.    For  C  read  c. 

79  b,  2d  St.    Read  26. 

81  b,  11.    Read  play  thee,  great. 

151  a.     Insert  F  before  the  last  version. 


PR.(ig/ 

V.    5"!/