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diff --git a/20469.txt b/20469.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b719739 --- /dev/null +++ b/20469.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9474 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Ballads of Romance and Chivalry, by Frank Sidgwick + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Ballads of Romance and Chivalry + Popular Ballads of the Olden Times - First Series + +Author: Frank Sidgwick + +Release Date: January 28, 2007 [EBook #20469] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BALLADS OF ROMANCE AND CHIVALRY *** + + + + +Produced by Louise Hope, Paul Murray and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.ne + + + + + + + [Transcriber's Note: + + The printed text used small capitals for emphasis. These have been + replaced with +marks+ where appopriate. Missing lines were shown + by rows of widely spaced dots (single lines) or asterisks (longer + sections). They are shown here in groups of three: + + ... ... ... + or + *** *** *** + + Variant forms such as "Maisry" : "Maisery" or "+Text(s)+" : + "+The Text+" are unchanged. Brackets are in the original, except + when enclosing footnotes or illustration markers. Errors are listed + at the end of the text.] + + * * * * * + * * * * + * * * * * + + + [Illustration: Facsimile of the Percy Folio MS. (_British Museum_, + Addit. MS. 27, 879, f. 46 _verso_). +Glasgerion+, first three verses + (see p. 2), annotated by Percy. The full page is 15 1/4 x 6 inches.] + + + + + POPULAR BALLADS + OF THE OLDEN TIME + + SELECTED AND EDITED + BY FRANK SIDGWICK + + First Series. Ballads of + Romance and Chivalry + + + 'What hast here? Ballads? + 'Pray now, buy some.' + + A. H. BULLEN + 47 Great Russell Street + London. MCMIII + + + + + 'La rime n'est pas riche, et le style en est vieux: + Mais ne voyez-vous pas que cela vaut bien mieux + Que ces colifichets dont le bon sens murmure, + Et que la passion parle la toute pure?' + + Moliere, _Le Misanthrope_, I. 2. + + + + +CONTENTS + Page + + Preface ix + Introduction xvii + Ballads in the First Series xliii + Glossary of Ballad Commonplaces xlvi + List of Books for Ballad Study lii + Note on the Illustrations lv + + Glasgerion 1 + Young Bekie 6 + Old Robin of Portingale 13 + Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard 19 + The Bonny Birdy 25 + Fair Annie 29 + The Cruel Mother 35 + Child Waters 37 + Earl Brand 44 + The Douglas Tragedy 49 + The Child of Ell 52 + Lord Thomas and Fair Annet 54 + The Brown Girl 60 + Fair Margaret and Sweet William 63 + Lord Lovel 67 + Lady Maisry 70 + The Cruel Brother 76 + The Nutbrown Maid 80 + Fair Janet 94 + Brown Adam 100 + Willie o' Winsbury 104 + The Marriage of Sir Gawaine 107 + The Boy and the Mantle 119 + Johney Scot 128 + Lord Ingram and Chiel Wyet 135 + The Twa Sisters o' Binnorie 141 + Young Waters 146 + Barbara Allan 150 + The Gay Goshawk 153 + Brown Robin 158 + Lady Alice 163 + Child Maurice 165 + Fause Footrage 172 + Fair Annie of Rough Royal 179 + Hind Horn 185 + Edward 189 + Lord Randal 193 + Lamkin 196 + Fair Mary of Wallington 201 + + Index of Titles 209 + Index of First Lines 211 + + + +PREFACE + + +Of making selections of ballads there is no end. As a subject for the +editor, they seem to be only less popular than Shakespeare, and every +year sees a fresh output. But of late there has sprung up a custom of +confusing the old with the new, the genuine with the imitation; and the +products of civilised days, 'ballads' by courtesy or convention, are set +beside the rugged and hard-featured aborigines of the tribe, just as the +delicate bust of Clytie in the British Museum has for next neighbour the +rude and bold 'Unknown Barbarian Captive.' To contrast by such enforced +juxtaposition a ballad of the golden world with a ballad by Mr. Kipling +is unfair to either, each being excellent in its way; and the +collocation of _Edward_ or _Lord Randal_ with a ballad of Rossetti's is +only of interest or value as exhibiting the perennial charm of the +_refrain_. + +There exist, however, in our tongue--though not only in our +tongue--narratives in rhyme which have been handed down in oral +tradition from father to son for so many ages, that all record of their +authorship has long been lost. These are commonly called the Old +Ballads. Being traditional, each ballad may exist in more than one form; +in most cases the original story is clothed in several different forms. +The present series is designed to include all the best of these ballads +which are still extant in England and Scotland: Ireland and Wales +possess a similar class of popular literature, but each in its own +tongue. It is therefore necessary, in issuing this the first volume of +the series, to say somewhat as to the methods employed in editing and +selecting. + +Ballad editors of yore were confronted with perhaps two, perhaps twenty, +versions of each ballad; some unintelligibly fragmentary, some +intelligibly complete; some in print, some in manuscript, some, +perchance, in their own memories. Collating these, they subjected the +text to minute revision, omitting and adding, altering and inserting, to +suit their personal tastes and standards, literary or polite; and having +thus made it over, forgot to record the act, and saw no reason to +apologise therefor. + +Pioneers like Thomas Percy, Bishop of Dromore, and Sir Walter Scott, may +well be excused the general censure. The former, living in and pandering +to an age which invented and applied those delightful literary +adjectives 'elegant' and 'ingenious,' may be pardoned with the more +sincerity if one recalls the influence exercised on English letters by +his publication. The latter, who played the part of Percy in the matter +of Scottish ballads, and was nourished from his boyhood on the +_Reliques_, printed for the first time many ballads which still are the +best of their class, and was gifted with consummate skill and taste. +Both, moreover, did their work scientifically, according to their +lights; and both have left at least some of their originals behind them. +There is, perhaps, one more exception to the general condemnation. Of +William Allingham's _Ballad Book_, as truly a _vade mecum_ as Palgrave's +lyrical anthology in the same 'Golden Treasury' series, I would speak, +perhaps only for sentimental reasons, always with respect, admiring the +results of his editing while looking askance at the method, for he mixed +his ingredients and left no recipe. + +But in the majority of cases there is no obvious excuse for this 'omnium +gatherum' process. The self-imposed function of most ballad editors +appears to have been the compilation of _rifacimenti_ in accordance with +their private ideas of what a ballad should be. And that such a state of +things was permissible is doubtless an indication of the then prevalent +attitude of half-interested tolerance assumed towards these memorials of +antiquity. + +To-day, however, the ballad editor is confronted with the results of the +labours, still unfinished, of a comparatively recent school in literary +science. These have lately culminated in _The English and Scottish +Popular Ballads_, edited by the late Professor Francis James Child of +Harvard University. This work, in five large volumes, issued in ten +parts at intervals from 1882 to 1898, and left by the editor at his +death complete but for the Introduction--_valde deflendus_--gives in +full all known variants of the three hundred and five ballads adjudged +by its editor to be genuinely 'popular,' with an essay, prefixed to each +ballad, on its history, origin, folklore, etc., and notes, glossary, +bibliographies, appendices, etc.; exhibiting as a whole unrivalled +special knowledge, great scholarly intuition, and years of patient +research, aided by correspondents, students, and transcribers in all +parts of the world, Lacking Professor Child's Introduction, we cannot +exactly tell what his definition of a 'popular' ballad was, or what +qualities in a ballad implied exclusion from his collection--_e.g._ he +does not admit _The Children in the Wood_: otherwise one can find in +this monumental work the whole history and all the versions of nearly +all the ballads. + +It will be obvious that Professor Child's academic method is suited +rather to the scholar than the general reader. As a rule, one text of +each ballad is all that is required, which must therefore be chosen--but +by what rules? To the scholar, it usually happens that the most ancient +and least handled text is the most interesting; but these are too +frequently incomplete and unintelligible. The literary dilettante may +prefer tasteful decorations by a Percy or a Scott; doubtless Buchan has +some admirers: but the student abhors this painting of the lily. + +Therefore I have compromised--always a dangerous practice--and I have +sought to give, to the best of my judgement, _that authorised text of +each ballad which tells in the best manner the completest form of the +story or plot_. I have been forced to make certain exceptions, but for +all departures from the above rule I have given reasons which, I trust, +will be found to justify the procedure; and in all cases the sources of +each text or part of the text are indicated. + +I am quite aware that it may fairly be asked: Why not assume the +immemorial privilege of a ballad editor, and concoct a text for +yourself? Why, when any text of a ballad is, as you admit, merely a +representative of parallel and similar traditional versions, should you +not compile from those other variants a text which should combine the +excellences of each, and give us the cream? + +There are several objections to this course. However incompetent, +I should not shrink from the labour involved; nor do I entirely approve +the growing demand for German minuteness and exactitude in editors. But, +firstly, the ballad should be subject to variation only while it is in +oral circulation. Secondly, editorial garnishing has been overdone +already, and my unwillingness to adopt that method is caused as much by +the failure of the majority of editors as by the success of the few. +Lastly, _chacun a son gout_; there is a kind of literary selfishness in +emending and patching to suit one's private taste, and, if any one +wishes to do so, he will be most pleased with the result if he does it +for himself. + +This lengthy _apologia_ is necessitated by a departure from the usual +custom of ballad-editing. For the rest, my indebtedness to the work of +Professor Child will be obvious throughout. Many of his most interesting +texts were printed for the first time from manuscripts in private hands. +These I have not sought to collate, which would, indeed, insult his +accuracy and care. But in the case of texts from the Percy Folio, where +the labour is rather to decipher than to transcribe accurately, I have +resorted not only to the reprint of Hales and Furnivall, but to the +Folio itself. The whimsical spelling of this MS. pleases me as often as +it irritates, and I have ventured in certain ballads, _e.g._ +_Glasgerion_, to modernise it, and in others, _e.g._ _Old Robin of +Portingale_, to retain it _literatim_: in either case I have reduced to +uniformity the orthography of the proper names. Transcripts from other +MSS. are reproduced as they stand. + +In the general Introduction I have tried to sketch the genesis and +history of the ballad impartially in its several aspects, not for +scholars and connoisseurs, but for those ready to learn. To supply +deficiencies, I have added a list of books useful to the student of +English ballads--to go no further afield. Each ballad also is prefaced +with an introduction setting forth, besides the source of the text, as +succinctly as is consistent with accuracy, the derivation, when known, +of the story; the plot of similar foreign ballads; and points of +interest in folklore, history, or criticism attached to the particular +ballad. Where the story is fragmentary, I have added an argument. It +will be realised that such introductions at the best are but a +thousandth part of what might be written; but if they shall play the +part of _hors d'oeuvres_, and whet the appetite to proceed to more solid +food, the labour will not be lost. + +Difficulties in the text are explained in footnotes. Few things are more +vexatious to a reader than constant reference to a glossary; but as +compensation for the educational value thus lost, the footnotes are, to +a certain extent, progressive; that is to say, a word already explained +in a foregoing ballad is not always explained again; and to the best of +my ability I have freed the notes from the grotesque blunders observable +in most modern editions of ballads. + +Besides my indebtedness to the books mentioned in the bibliographical +list, I have to acknowledge my thanks to the Rev. Sabine Baring Gould, +for permission to use his version of _The Brown Girl_; to Mr. E. K. +Chambers, for kindly reading the general Introduction; and to my friend +and partner Mr. A. H. Bullen, for constant suggestions and assistance. + + F. S. + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + 'Y-a-t-il donc, dans les contes populaires, quelque chose + d'interessant pour un esprit serieux?'--Cosquin. + + +The old ballads of England and Scotland are fine wine in cobwebbed +bottles; and many have made the error of paying too much attention to +the cobwebs and not enough attention to the wine. This error is as +blameworthy as its converse: we must take the inside and the outside +together. + + ++I. What is a Ballad?+ + +The earliest sense of the word 'ballad,' or rather of its French and +Provencal predecessors, _balada_, _balade_ (derived from the late Latin +_ballare_, to dance), was 'a song intended as the accompaniment to a +dance,' a sense long obsolete.[1] Next came the meaning, a simple song +of sentiment or romance, of two verses or more, each of which is sung to +the same air, the accompaniment being subordinate to the melody. This +sense we still use in our 'ballad-concerts.' Another meaning was that of +simply a popular song or ditty of the day, lyrical or narrative, of the +kind often printed as a broadsheet. Lyrical _or_ narrative, because the +Elizabethans appear not to distinguish the two. Read, for instance, the +well-known scene in _The Winter's Tale_ (Act IV. Sc. 4); here we have +both the lyrical ballad, as sung by Dorcas and Mopsa, in which Autolycus +bears his part 'because it is his occupation'; and also the 'ballad in +print,' which Mopsa says she loves--'for then we are sure it is true.' +Immediately after, however, we discover that the 'ballad in print' is +the broadside, the narrative ballad, sung of a usurer's wife brought to +bed of twenty money-bags at a burden, or of a fish that appeared upon +the coast on Wednesday the fourscore of April: in short, as _Martin +Mar-sixtus_ says (1592), 'scarce a cat can look out of a gutter but out +starts a halfpenny chronicler, and presently a proper new ballet of a +strange sight is indited.' Chief amongst these 'halfpenny chroniclers' +were William Elderton, of whom Camden records that he 'did arm himself +with ale (as old father Ennius did with wine) when he ballated,' and +thereby obtained a red nose almost as celebrated as his verses; Thomas +Deloney, 'the ballating silkweaver of Norwich'; and Richard Johnson, +maker of Garlands. Thus to Milton, to Addison, and even to Johnson, +'ballad' essentially implies singing; but from about the middle of the +eighteenth century the modern interpretation of the word began to come +into general use. + + [Footnote 1: For the subject of the origin of the ballad and its + refrain in the _ballatio_ of the dancing-ring, see _The Beginnings + of Poetry_, by Professor Francis B. Gummere, especially chap. v. The + beginning of the whole subject is to be found in the universal and + innate practices of accompanying manual or bodily labour by a + rhythmic chant or song, and of festal song and dance.] + +In 1783, in one of his letters, the poet Cowper says: 'The ballad is a +species of poetry, I believe, peculiar to this country.... Simplicity +and ease are its proper characteristics.' Here we have one of the +earliest attempts to define the modern meaning of a 'ballad.' Centuries +of use and misuse of the word have left us no unequivocal name for the +ballad, and we are forced to qualify it with epithets. 'Traditional' +might be deemed sufficient; but 'popular' or 'communal' is more +definite. Here we adopt the word used by Professor Child--'popular.' + +What, then, do we intend to signify by the expression 'popular ballads'? +Far the most important point is to maintain an antithesis between the +poetry of the people and the consciously artistic poetry of the schools. +Wilhelm Grimm, the less didactic of the two famous brothers, said that +the ballad says nothing unnecessary or unreal, and despises external +adornment. Ferdinand Wolf, the great critic of the Homeric question, +said the ballad must be naive, objective, not sentimental, lively and +erratic in its narrative, without ornamentation, yet with much +picturesque vigour. + +It is even more necessary to define sharply the line between poetry _of_ +the people and poetry _for_ the people.[2] The latter may still be +written; the making of the former is a lost art. Poetry of the people is +either lyric or narrative. This difference is roughly that between song +and ballad. 'With us,' says Ritson, 'songs of sentiment, expression, or +even description, are properly termed songs, in contradistinction to +mere narrative compositions which we now denominate Ballads.' This +definition, of course, is essentially modern; we must still insist on +the fact that genuine ballads were sung: 'I sing Musgrove,'[3] says Sir +Thwack in Davenant's _The Wits_, 'and for the Chevy Chase no lark comes +near me.' Lastly, we must emphasise that the accompaniment is +predominated by the air to which the words are sung. I have heard the +modern comic song described as 'the kind in which you hear the words,' +thus differentiating it from the drawing-room song, in which the words +are (happily) as a rule less audible than the melody. In the ballad, as +sung, the words are most important; but it is of vital importance to +remember that the ballads were chanted. + + [Footnote 2: See the first essay, 'What is "Popular Poetry"?' in + _Ideas of Good and Evil_, by W. B. Yeats (1903), where this + distinction is not recognised.] + + [Footnote 3: _Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard_ (see p. 19, etc.).] + + ++II. Poetry of the People.+ + +Now what is this 'poetry of the people'? One theory is as follows. Every +nation or people in the natural course of its development reaches a +stage at which it consists of a homogeneous, compact community, with its +sentiments undivided by class-distinctions, so that the whole active +body forms what is practically an individual. Begging the question, that +poetry can be produced by such a body, this poetry is naturally of a +concrete and narrative character, and is previous to the poetry of art. +'Therefore,' says Professor Child, 'while each ballad will be +idiosyncratic, it will not be an expression of the personality of +individuals, but of a collective sympathy; and the fundamental +characteristic of popular ballads is therefore the absence of +subjectivity and self-consciousness. Though they do not "write +themselves," as Wilhelm Grimm has said--though a man and not a people +has composed them, still the author counts for nothing, and it is not by +mere accident, but with the best reason, that they have come down to us +anonymous.' + +By stating this, the dictum of one of the latest and most erudite of +ballad-scholars, so early in our argument, we anticipate a century or +more of criticism and counter-criticism, during which the giants of +literature ranged themselves in two parties, and instituted a +battle-royal which even now is not quite finished. It will be most +convenient if we denominate the one party as that which holds to the +communal or 'nebular' theory of authorship, and the other as the +anti-communal or 'artistic' theory. The tenet of the former party has +already been set forth, namely, that the poetry of the people is a +natural and spontaneous production of a community at that stage of its +existence when it is for all practical purposes an individual. The +theory of the 'artistic' school is that the ballads and folk-songs are +the productions of skalds, minstrels, bards, troubadours, or other +vagrant professional singers and reciters of various periods; it is +allowed, however, that, being subject entirely to oral transmission, +these ballads and songs are open to endless variation. + +On the Continent, Herder was pioneer, both of the claims of popular +poetry and of the nebular theory of authorship. Traditions of chivalry, +he says, became poetry in the mouths of the people; but his definition +of popular poetry has rather extended bounds. Herder's enthusiasm fired +Goethe (who, however, did not wholly accede to the 'nebular' theory) to +study the subject, and the effect was soon noticeable in his own poetry. +Next came the two great brothers, whose names are ever to be held in +honour wherever folklore is studied or folktales read, Jacob and Wilhelm +Grimm. Jacob, the more ardent and polemical, insisted on the communal +authorship of the poetry of the people; ballad or song 'sings itself.' + +Both the Grimms, and especially Jacob, were severely handled by the +critic Schlegel, who insisted on the artist. To Schlegel we owe the +famous image in which popular poetry is a tower, and the poet an +architect. Hundreds may fetch and carry, but all are useless without the +direction of the architect. This is specious argument; but we might +reply to Schlegel that an architect is only wanted when the result is +required to be an artistic whole. The tower of Babel was built by +hundreds of men under no superintendence. Schlegel's intention, however, +is no less clear than that of Jacob Grimm, and the two are diametrically +opposed. + +In England, literary prejudice against the unpolished barbarities and +uncouthnesses of the ballad was at no time so pronounced as it was on +the Continent, and especially in Germany, during the latter half of the +eighteenth century. Indeed, at intervals, the most learned and fantastic +critics in England would call attention to the poetry of the people. Sir +Philip Sidney's apologetic words are well known:-- 'Certainly I must +confesse my own barbarousnes, I never heard the olde song of _Percy_ and +_Duglas_, that I found not my heart mooved more then with a Trumpet.' +Addison was bolder. 'It is impossible that anything should be +universally tasted and approved by a Multitude, tho' they are only the +Rabble of a Nation, which hath not in it some peculiar Aptness to please +and gratify the Mind of Man.' With these and other encouragements the +popular poetry of England was not lost to sight; and in 1765 the work of +the good Bishop of Dromore gave the ballads a place in literature. + +Percy's opening remarks, attributing the ballads to the minstrels, are +as well known as the scoffs of the hard-hitting Joseph Ritson, who +contemptuously dismissed Percy's theories,[4] and refused to believe any +ballad to be of earlier origin than the reign of Elizabeth. Sir Walter +Scott was quite ready to accept the ballads as the productions of the +minstrels, either as 'the occasional effusions of some self-taught +bard,' or as abridged from the tales of tradition after the days when, +as Alfred de Musset says, 'our old romances spread their wings of gold +towards the enchanted world.' + + [Footnote 4: 'The truth really lay between the two, for neither + appreciated the wide variety covered by a common name' (_The + Mediaeval Stage_, E. K. Chambers, 1903). See especially chapters iii. + and iv. of this work for an admirably complete and illuminating + account of minstrelsy.] + +This brings us nearer to our own day. The argument is not closed, +although we can discern offers of concession from either side. Svend +Grundtvig, editor of the enormous collection of Danish ballads, +distinguished the ballad from all forms of artistic literature, and +would have the artist left out of sight; Nyrop and the Scandinavian +scholars, on the other hand, entirely gave up the notion of communal +authorship. Howbeit, the trend of modern criticism,[5] on the whole, is +towards a common belief regarding most ballads, which may be stated +again, in Professor Child's words: 'Though a man and not a people has +composed them, still the author counts for nothing, and it is not by +mere accident, but with the best reason, that they have come down to us +anonymous.' + + [Footnote 5: For the most recent discussions, see Bibliography, + p. lii.] + + ++III. The Growth of Ballads.+ + +Let us then picture, however vaguely and uncertainly, the growth of a +ballad. It is well known that the folklores of the various races of the +world exhibit common features, and that the beliefs, superstitions, +tales, even conventionalities of expression, of one race, are found to +present constant and remarkable similarities to those of another. +Whether these similarities are to be held mere coincidences, or whether +they are to be explained by the theory of a common ancestry in the +cradle of the world, is a side-issue into which I do not intend to +enter. Suffice it that the fact is true, especially of the peoples who +speak the Indo-European tongues. The lore which has for its foundation +permanent and universal acceptance in the hearts of mankind is preserved +by tradition, and remains independent of the criteria applied +instinctively and unconsciously to artistic compositions. The community +is one at heart, one in mind, one in method of expression. Tales are +recited, verses chanted, and the singer of a clan makes his version of a +popular story. Simultaneously other singers, it may be of other clans of +the same race, or of another race altogether, elaborate their versions +of the common theme. Meanwhile the first singer has again recited or +chanted his ballad, and, having forgotten the exact wording, has altered +it, and perhaps introduced improvements. The same happens in the other +cases. The various audiences carry away as much as they can remember, +and recite their versions, again with individual omissions, alterations, +and additions. Thus, by ever-widening circles, the tale is distributed +in countless forms over an unlimited area. The elements of the story +remain, wholly or in part, while the literary clothing is altered +according to the 'taste and fancy' of the reciter. The lore is now +traditional, whether it be in prose, as Maerchen, or in verse, as ballad. +And so it remains in oral circulation--and therefore still liable to +variation--until it is written down or printed. It is left 'masterless,' +unsigned; for of the original author's composition, may be, only a word +or two remains. It has passed through many mouths, and has been made +over countless times. But once written down it ceases _virum volitare +per ora_; the invention of printing has spoiled the powers of man's +memory. + +We can now take up the tale at the fifteenth century; let us henceforth +confine our attention to England. It is agreed on all sides that the +fifteenth century was the period when, in England at least, the ballads +first became a prominent feature. Of historical ballads, _The Hunting of +the Cheviot_ was probably composed as early as 1400 or thereabouts. The +romances contemporaneously underwent a change, and took on a form nearer +to that of the ballad. Whatever may be the date of the origin of the +subject-matter, the literary clothing--language, mode of expression, +colour--of no ballad, as we now have it, is much, earlier than 1400. The +only possible exceptions to this statement are one or two of the Robin +Hood ballads--attributed to the thirteenth century by Professor Child, +but _adhuc sub judice_--and a ballad of sacred legend--_Judas_--which +exists in a thirteenth-century manuscript in the library of Trinity +College, Cambridge. + +During the fifteenth century, the ballads, still purely narrative, were +cast abroad through the length and breadth of the land, undergoing +continual changes, modifications, enlargements, for better or for worse. +They told of romance and chivalry, of historical, quasi-historical, and +mythico-historical deeds, of the traditions of the Church and sacred +legend, and of the lore that gathers round the most popular of heroes, +Robin Hood. The earliest printed English ballad is the _Gest of Robyn +Hode_, which now remains in a fragment of about the end of the fifteenth +century. + +The sixteenth century continued the process of the popularisation of +ballads. Minstrels, who, as a class, had been slowly perishing ever +since the invention of printing, were now vagrants, and the profession +was decadent. Towards the end of the century we hear of Richard Sheale, +whom we may describe as the first of the so-called 'Last of the +Minstrels.' He describes himself as a minstrel of Tamworth, his business +being to chant ballads and tell tales. We know that the ballad of _The +Hunting of the Cheviot_ was part of his repertory, for he wrote down his +version, which is still preserved in the Ashmolean MSS. At the end of +the sixteenth century the minstrels had fallen, in England at least, +into entire degradation. In 1597, Percy notes, a statute of Elizabeth +was passed including 'minstrels, wandering abroad,' amongst the other +'rogues, vagabonds, and sturdy beggars'; and fifty years later Cromwell +made a very similar ordinance.[6] + + [Footnote 6: But these were only re-enactments of existing laws. See + Chambers, _Mediaeval Stage,_ i. p. 54.] + +In Elizabeth's reign we first meet with the ballad-mongers and +professional authors of ballads. Simultaneously, or nearly so, comes the +degradation of the word 'ballad,' until it signifies either the genuine +popular ballad, or a satirical song, or a broadside, or almost any ditty +of the day. Of the ballad-mongers, we have mentioned Elderton, Deloney, +and Johnson. We might add a hundred others, from Anthony Munday to +Martin Parker, and even Tom Durfey, each of whom contributed largely to +the vast mushroom-literature that sprang up and flourished vigorously +for the next century. Chappell mentions that seven hundred and +ninety-six ballads remained at the end of 1560 in the cupboards of the +council-chamber of the Stationers' Company for transference to the new +wardens of the succeeding year. These, of course, would consist chiefly +of broadsides: the narrations of strange events, monstrosities, or 'true +tales' of the day. + +It is true that many of the genuine popular ballads were rewritten to +suit contemporary taste. But the style of the seventeenth century +ballads cannot be compared to the noble straightforwardness and +simplicity of the ancient ballad. Let us place side by side the first +stanza of the _Hunting of the Cheviot_ and the first few verses of _Fair +Rosamond_, a very fair specimen of Deloney's work. + +The popular ancient ballad wastes no time on preliminaries[7]:-- + + [Footnote 7: A good notion of the way in which the old ballads + plunge _in medias res_ may be obtained by reading the Index of First + Lines.] + + 'The Perse owt off Northombarlonde + And avowe to God mayd he, + That he wold hunte in the mowntayns + Off Chyviat within days thre, + In the magger of doughte Dogles; + And all that ever with him be.' + +Now for the milk-and-water:-- + + 'Whenas King Henry rulde this land, + The second of that name, + Besides the queene, he dearly lovde + A faire and comely dame. + + Most peerlesse was her beautye founde, + Her favour and her face; + A sweeter creature in this worlde + Could never prince embrace. + + Her crisped lockes like threads of golde + Appeard to each man's sight; + Her sparkling eyes, like Orient pearles, + Did cast a heavenly light.' + +Ritson's taste actually led him, in comparing the above two first +verses, to prefer the latter. + +Or again we might contrast _Sir Patrick Spence_-- + + 'The King sits in Dumferling towne + Drinking the blude reid wine: + "O whar will I get a guid sailor, + To sail this ship of mine?"' + +with the _Children in the Wood_:-- + + 'Now ponder well, you parents deare, + These wordes, which I shall write; + A doleful story you shall heare, + In time brought forth to light.' + +Artificial, tedious, didactic. The author of the ancient ballad seldom +points, and never draws, a moral, and has unbounded faith in the +credulity of the audience. The seventeenth century balladists +pitchforked Nature into the midden. + +These compositions were printed as soon as written, or, to be exact, +they were written for the press. We now class them as broadsides, that +is, ballads printed on one side of the paper. The difference between +these and the true ballad is the difference between art and nature. The +broadside ballad was a form of art, and a low form of art. They were +written by hacks for the press, sold in the streets, and pasted on the +walls of houses or rooms: Jamieson had a copy of _Young Beichan_ which +he picked off a wall in Piccadilly. They were generally ornamented with +crude woodcuts, remarkable for their artistic shortcomings and +infidelity to nature. Dr. Johnson's well-known lines--though in fact a +caricature of Percy's _Hermit of Warkworth_--ingeniously parody their +style:-- + + 'As with my hat upon my head, + I walk'd along the Strand, + I there did meet another man, + With his hat in his hand.' + +Broadside ballads, including a few of the genuine ancient ballads, still +enjoy a certain popularity. The once-famous Catnach Press still survives +in Seven Dials, and Mr. Such, of Union Street in the Borough, still +maintains what is probably the largest stock of broadsides now in +existence, including _Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight_ (or _May Colvin_), +perhaps the most widely dispersed ballad of any. + +Minstrels of all sorts were by this time nearly extinct, in person if +not in name; their successors were the vendors of broadsides. +Nevertheless, survivors of the genuine itinerant reciters of ballads +have been discovered at intervals almost to the present day. Sir Walter +Scott mentions a person who 'acquired the name of Roswal and Lillian, +from singing that romance about the streets of Edinburgh' in 1770 or +thereabouts. He further alludes to 'John Graeme, of Sowport in +Cumberland, commonly called the Long Quaker, very lately alive.' Ritson +mentions a minstrel of Derbyshire, and another from Gloucester, who +chanted the ballad of _Lord Thomas and Fair Eleanor_. In 1845 J. H. +Dixon wrote of several men he had met, chiefly Yorkshire dalesmen, not +vagrants, but with a local habitation, who at Christmas-tide would sing +the old ballads. One of these was Francis King, known then throughout +the western dales of Yorkshire, and still remembered, as 'the Skipton +Minstrel.' After a merry Christmas meeting, in the year 1844, he walked +into the river near Gargrave, in Craven, and was drowned. In Gargrave +church-yard lie the remains of perhaps the actual 'last of the +minstrels.'[8] + + [Footnote 8: Unless we may attribute that distinction to the blind + Irish bard Raftery, who flourished sixty years ago. See various + accounts of him given by Lady Gregory (_Poets and Dreamers_) and + W. B. Yeats (_The Celtic Twilight_, 1902). But he appears to have + been more of an improviser than a reciter.] + + ++IV. Collectors and Editors.+ + +Now a word or two as to the collectors and editors. To take the +broadsides first, the largest collections are at Magdalene College, +Cambridge (eighteen hundred broadsides collected by Selden and Pepys), +in the Bodleian at Oxford, and in the British Museum. The Bodleian +contains collections made by Anthony-a-Wood, Douce, and Rawlinson; the +British Museum, the great Roxburghe and Bagford collections, which have +been reprinted and edited by William Chappell and the Rev. J. W. +Ebsworth for the Ballad Society, as well as other smaller volumes of +ballads. + +But it is not among the broadsides that our noblest ballads are found. +The first attempt to collect popular ballads was made by the compiler of +three volumes issued in 1723 and 1725. The editor is said to have been +Ambrose Phillips, whose name and style combined to produce the word +'namby-pamby.' Next came Allan Ramsay, with 'the _Evergreen_, +a collection of Scots poems wrote by the ingenious before 1600.'--'By +the ingenious,' we note; not by the 'elegant.' The tide is already +beginning to turn; pitch-forked Nature will ever come back. Followed the +_Tea-Table Miscellany_, also compiled by Allan Ramsay, which contained +about twenty popular ballads, the rest being songs and ballads of modern +composition. The texts were, of course, chopped about and pruned to suit +contemporary taste. It was still necessary to adopt an apologetic +attitude on behalf of these barbarous and crude relics of antiquity. + +These books paved the way to the great literary triumph of the century. +The first edition of Percy's _Reliques_ was issued in three volumes, in +1765. He received for it one hundred guineas, instant popularity and +patronage, and subsequently, the gratitude of succeeding centuries. + +Nevertheless, Percy himself was so far under the influence of his +contemporaries that he felt it necessary to adopt the apologetic +attitude. In his preface he wrote:-- 'In a polished age like the +present, I am sensible that many of these reliques of antiquity will +require great allowances to be made for them.' And again:-- 'To atone +for the rudeness of the more obsolete poems, each volume concludes with +a few modern attempts in the same kind of writing; and to take off from +the tediousness of the longer narratives, they are everywhere +intermingled with little elegant pieces of the lyrical kind.' In short, +he could not trust that large child, the people of England, to take its +dose of powder without the conventional treacle. To vary the metaphor, +his famous Folio Manuscript he regarded as a Cinderella, and in his +capacity as fairy godmother refused to introduce her to the world +without hiding the slut's uncouth attire under fine raiment. To which +end, besides adding 'little elegant pieces,' he recast and rewrote 'the +more obsolete poems,' many of which came direct from the Folio +Manuscript. Are we to blame him for yielding to the taste of his day? + +He did not satisfy every one. Ritson's immediate outcry is famous--and +Ritson stood almost alone. He did, indeed, go so far as to deny the +existence of the Folio Manuscript, and Percy was forced to confute him +by producing it. In the later editions of the _Reliques_, Percy sought +to conciliate him by revising his texts, so as to approximate them more +closely to his originals, but still Ritson cried out for the whole +truth, and nothing but the truth. And by this time he had supporters. +But the whole truth as regards the Folio was not to be divulged yet. The +manuscript was most jealously guarded. + +Meanwhile the influence of the publication was having its effect. The +poetry of the schools, the poetry of the intellect, the poetry of art, +brought to its highest pitch by writers like Dryden and Pope, was +shelved; metrically exact diction, artificiality of expression, +carefully balanced antitheses, and all the mechanical devices of the +school were placed in abeyance. There was a general return to Nature, to +simplicity, to straightforwardness--not without imagination, however. +Wordsworth, besides insisting, in a famous passage, the Preface to the +_Lyrical Ballads_, on the spontaneity of good poetry, recorded his +tribute to the _Reliques_: 'I do not think that there is an able writer +in verse of the present day who would not be proud to acknowledge his +obligation to the _Reliques_.' While failing often to catch the gusto of +ancient poetry--witness his translations from Chaucer--Wordsworth was +full of the spirit--witness his rifacimento of _The Owl and the +Nightingale_--and, best of all, handed it on to Coleridge.[9] These two +fought side by side against the conventions of the preceding century, +against Dryden, Addison, Pope, and last, but not least, Johnson. Some +have gone so far as to place the definite turning-point in the year +1798, the year of the publication of the _Lyrical Ballads_. Coleridge's +_annus mirabilis_ was 1797, and the publication of _The Ancient Mariner_ +is significant of the change. But we need not bind ourselves down to any +given year. Enough that the revolution was effected, and that it is +scarcely exaggeration to say that it was almost entirely due to the +publication of the _Reliques_. + + [Footnote 9: 'He [Coleridge] said the _Lyrical Ballads_ were an + experiment about to be tried by him and Wordsworth, to see how far + the public taste would endure poetry written in a more natural and + simple style than had hitherto been attempted; totally discarding + the artifices of poetical diction, and making use only of such words + as had probably been common in the most ordinary language since the + days of Henry II.'--_Hazlitt._] + +Sir Walter Scott remembered to the day of his death the place where he +first made acquaintance with the _Reliques_ in his thirteenth year. 'I +remember well the spot where I read those volumes for the first time. It +was beneath a large platanus-tree, in the ruins of what had been +intended for an old-fashioned arbour in the garden I have mentioned. The +summer day sped onward so fast, that, notwithstanding the sharp appetite +of thirteen, I forgot the hour of dinner, was sought for with anxiety, +and was still found entranced in my intellectual banquet.' + +Almost immediately competitors appeared in the field, and especial +attention was given to Scotland, exceedingly rich ground, as it proved. +In 1769, David Herd published his collection of _Ancient and Modern +Scots Songs, Heroic Ballads, etc._ Then, at intervals of two or three +years only, came the compilations of Evans, Pinkerton, Ritson, Johnson; +in 1802 Sir Walter Scott's _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, fit to +be placed side by side with the _Reliques_; in 1806 Jamieson's _Popular +Ballads and Songs_; then Finlay, Gilchrist, Laing, and Utterson. In 1828 +the egregious Peter Buchan produced _Ancient Ballads and Songs of the +North of Scotland, hitherto unpublished_. Buchan hints that he kept a +pedlar or beggarman--'a wight of Homer's craft'--travelling through +Scotland to pick up ballads; and one of the two--probably Buchan--must +have been possessed of powerful inventive faculties. Each of Buchan's +ballads is tediously spun out to enormous and unnecessary length, and is +filled with solecisms and inanities quite inconsistent with the spirit +of the true ballad. But Buchan undoubtedly gained fresh material, +however much he clothed it; and his ballads are now reprinted, as +Professor Child says, for much the same reason that thieves are +photographed. + +Scotland continued the work with two excellent students and pioneers, +George Kinloch and William Motherwell. Next, Robert Chambers published a +collection of eighty ballads, some being spurious. This was in 1829. +Thirty years later Chambers came to the conclusion that 'the high-class +romantic ballads of Scotland ... are not older than the early part of +the eighteenth century, and are mainly, if not wholly, the production of +one mind.' And this one mind, he thinks, was probably that of Elizabeth, +Lady Wardlaw, the acknowledged forger of the ballad _Hardyknute_, which +deceived so many. Chambers, of course, was absurdly mistaken. + +So the work of collecting and editing progressed through the nineteenth +century, till it culminated in the final edition of Professor Child's +_English and Scottish Popular Ballads_. But even this is scarcely his +greatest benefaction to the study of ballads. We must confess that had +it not been for the insistence of this American scholar, the Percy Folio +Manuscript would remain a sealed book. For six years Professor Child +persecuted Dr. Furnivall, who persecuted in turn the owners of the +Folio, even offering sums of money, for permission to print the MS. +Eventually they succeeded, and not only succeeded in giving to the world +an exact reprint,[10] but also once for all secured the precious +original for the British Museum, where it now remains.[11] + + [Footnote 10: _Bishop Percy's Folio Manuscript_, edited by J. W. + Hales and F. J. Furnivall, 4 vols., 1867-8. Printed for the Early + English Text Society and subscribers.] + + [Footnote 11: Additional MS. 27, 879.] + +And what is this manuscript? In brief, it is an example of the +commonplace books which abounded in the seventeenth century. But it is +unique in containing a large proportion of early romances and ballads, +as well as the lyrics of the day. Of the hundreds of commonplace books +made during that century, no other example is known which contains such +matter, for the obvious and simple reason that such matter was +despised.[12] The handwriting is put by experts at about 1650; it cannot +be much later, and one song in it contains a passage which fixes the +date of that song to the year 1643. Percy discovered the book 'lying +dirty on the floor under a bureau in the parlour' of his friend Humphrey +Pitt of Shifnal, in Shropshire, 'being used by maids to light the fire.' +Mr. Pitt's fires were lighted with half-pages torn out from incomparably +early and precious versions of certain Robin Hood and other ballads. +Percy notes that he was very young when he first got possession of the +MS., and had not then learned to reverence it. When he put it into +boards to lend to Dr. Johnson, the bookbinder pared the margins, and cut +away top and bottom lines. In editing the _Reliques_, Percy actually +tore out pages 'to save the trouble of transcribing.' In spite of all, +it remains a unique and inestimably valuable manuscript. Its writer was +presumably a Lancashire man, from his use of certain dialect words, and +was assuredly a man of slight education; nevertheless a national +benefactor. + + [Footnote 12: Cp. _Love's Labour's Lost_:-- + + +Armado.+ Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and the Beggar? + + +Moth.+ The world was very guilty of such a ballad some three ages + since; but I think now 'tis not to be found.] + +In speaking of manuscripts, we must not omit to mention the Scottish +collectors. Most of them went to work in the right way, seeking out aged +men and women in out-of-the-way corners of Scotland, and taking down +their ballads from their lips. If we condemn these editors for +subsequently adorning the traditional versions, we must be grateful to +them for preserving their manuscripts so that we can still read the +ballads as they received them. The old ladies of Scotland seem to have +possessed better memories than the old men. Besides Sir Walter Scott's +anonymous 'Old Lady,' there was another to whom we owe some of the +finest versions of the Scottish ballads. This was Mrs. Brown, daughter +of Professor Gordon of Aberdeen. Born in 1747, she learned most of her +ballads before she was twelve years old, or before 1759, from the +singing of her aunt, Mrs. Farquhar of Braemar. From about twenty to +forty years later, she repeated her ballads, first to Jamieson, and +afterwards to William Tytler, each of whom compiled a manuscript. The +latter, the Tytler-Brown MS., unfortunately is lost, but the ballads are +practically all known from the other manuscript and various sources. + +Perhaps the richest part of our stock are the Scottish and Border +ballads. Beside them, most of our mawkish English ballads look pale and +withered. The reason, perhaps, may be traced to the effect of natural +surroundings on literature. The English ballads were printed or written +down at a period which is early compared with the date of collection of +the Scottish ballads. In fact, it is only during the last hundred and +thirty years that the ballads of Scotland have been recovered from oral +tradition. In mountainous districts, where means of communication and +intercourse are naturally limited, tradition dies more hard than in +countries where there are no such barriers. Moreover, as Professor Child +points out, 'oral transmission by the unlettered is not to be feared +nearly so much as by minstrels, nor by minstrels nearly so much as +modern editors.' Svend Grundtvig illustrates this from his twenty-nine +versions of the Danish ballad 'Ribold and Guldborg.' In versions from +recitation, he has shown that there occur certain verses which have +never been printed, but which are found in old manuscripts; and these +recited versions also contain verses which have never been either +printed or written down in Danish, but which are to be found still in +recitation, not only in Norwegian and Swedish versions, but even in +Icelandic tradition of two hundred years' standing. + + +Such, then, is the history of our ballads, so far as it may be stated in +a few pages. With regard to origins, the 'nebular' theory cannot be +summarily dismissed;[13] but, after weighing the evidence and arguments, +the balance of probability would seem to lie with the supporters of the +'artistic' theory in a modified form. The ballad may say, with Topsy, +'Spec's I growed'; but _vires adquirit eundo_ is only true of the ballad +to a certain point; progress, which includes the invention of printing +and the absorption into cities of the unsophisticated rural population, +has since killed the oral circulation of the ballad. Thus it was not an +unmixed evil that in the Middle Ages, as a rule, the ballads were +neglected; for this neglect, while it rendered the discovery of their +sources almost impossible, gave the ballads for a time into the +safe-keeping of their natural possessors, the common people. +Civilisation, advancing more swiftly in some countries than in others, +has left rich stores here, and little there. Our close kinsmen of +Denmark, and the rest of Scandinavia, possess a ballad-literature of +which they do well to be proud; and Spain is said to have inherited even +better legacies. A study of our native ballads yields much interest, +much delight, and much regret that the gleaning is comparatively so +small. But what we still have is of immense value. The ballads may not +be required again to revoke English literature from flights into +artificiality and subjectivity; but they form a leaf in the life of the +English people, they uphold the dignity of human nature, they carry us +away to the legends, the romances, the beliefs, the traditions of our +ancestors, and take us out of ourselves to 'fleet the time carelessly, +as they did in the golden world.' + + [Footnote 13: Professor Gummere (_The Beginnings of Poetry_) is + perhaps the strongest champion of this theory, and takes an extreme + view.] + + + + +BALLADS IN THE FIRST SERIES + + + +The only possible method of classifying ballads is by their +subject-matter; and even thus the lines of demarcation are frequently +blurred. It is, however, possible to divide them roughly into several +main classes, such as ballads of romance and chivalry; ballads of +superstition and of the supernatural; Arthurian, historical, sacred, +domestic ballads; ballads of Robin Hood and other outlaws; and so forth. + +The present volume is concerned with ballads of romance and chivalry; +but it is useless to press too far the appropriateness of this title. +_The Nutbrown Maid_, for instance, is not a true ballad at all, but an +amoebaean idyll, or dramatic lyric. But, on the whole, these ballads +chiefly tell of life, love, death, and human passions, of revenge and +murder and heroic deed. + + 'These things are life: + And life, some think, is worthy of the Muse.' + +They are left unexpurgated, as they came down to us: to apologise for +things now left unsaid would be to apologise not only for the heroic +epoch in which they were born, but also for human nature. + +And how full of life that heroic epoch was! Of what stature must Lord +William's steed have been, if Lady Maisry could hear him sneeze a mile +away! How chivalrous of Gawaine to wed an ugly bride to save his king's +promise, and how romantic and delightful to discover her on the morrow +to have changed into a well-fared may! + +The popular Muse regards not probability. Old Robin, who hails from +Portugal, marries the daughter of the mayor of Linne, that unknown town +so dear to ballads. In _Young Bekie_, Burd Isbel's heart is wondrous +sair to find, on liberating her lover, that the bold rats and mice have +eaten his yellow hair. We must not think of objecting that the boldest +rat would never eat a live prisoner's hair, but only applaud the +picturesque indication of durance vile. + +In the same ballad, Burd Isbel, 'to keep her from thinking +lang'--a prevalent complaint--is told to take 'twa marys' on her +journey. We suddenly realise how little there was to amuse the Burd +Isbels of yore. Twa marys provide a week's diversion. Otherwise her only +occupation would have been to kemb her golden hair, or perhaps, like +Fair Annie, drink wan water to preserve her complexion. + +But if their occupations were few, their emotions and affections were +strong. Ellen endures insult after insult from Child Waters with the +faithful patience of a Griselda. Hector the hound recognises Burd Isbel +after years of separation. Was any lord or lady in need of a messenger, +there was sure to be a little boy at hand to run their errand soon, +faithful unto death. On receipt of painful news, they kicked over the +table, and the silver plate flew into the fire. When roused, men +murdered with a brown sword, and ladies with a penknife. We are left +uncertain whether the Cruel Mother did not also 'howk' a grave for her +murdered babe with that implement. + +But readers will easily pick out and enjoy for themselves other +instances of the naive and picturesque in these ballads. + + + + +GLOSSARY OF BALLAD COMMONPLACES + + +There survive in ballads a few conventional phrases, some of which +appear to have been preserved by tradition beyond an understanding of +their import. I give here short notes on a few of the more interesting +phrases and words which appear in the present volume, the explanations +being too cumbrous for footnotes. + + ++Bow.+ + +'bent his bow and swam,' _Lady Maisry_, 21.2; _Johney Scot_, 10.2; _Lord +Ingram and Chiel Wyet_, 12.2; etc. + +'set his bent bow to his breast,' _Lady Maisry_, 22.3; _Lord Ingram and +Chiel Wyet_, 13.3; _Fause Footrage_, 33.1; etc. + + Child attempts no explanation of this striking phrase, which, + I believe, all editors have either openly or silently neglected. + Perhaps 'bent' may mean _un_-bent, _i.e._ with the string of the bow + slacked. If so, for what reason was it done before swimming? We can + understand that it would be of advantage to keep the string dry, but + how is it better protected when unstrung? Or, again, was it carried + unstrung, and literally 'bent' before swimming? Or was the bow solid + enough to be of support in the water? + + Some one of these explanations may satisfy the first phrase (as + regards swimming); but why does the messenger 'set his bent bow to + his breast' before leaping the castle wall? It seems to me that the + two expressions must stand or fall together; therefore the entire + lack of suggestions to explain the latter phrase drives me to + distrust of any of the explanations given for the former. + + A suggestion recently made to me appears to dispose of all + difficulties; and, once made, is convincing in its very obviousness. + It is, that 'bow' means 'elbow,' or simply 'arm.' The first phrase + then exhibits the commonest form of ballad-conventionalities, + picturesque redundancy: the parallel phrase is 'he slacked his shoon + and ran.' In the second phrase it is, indeed, necessary to suppose + the wall to be breast-high; the messenger places one elbow on the + wall, pulls himself up, and vaults across. + + Lexicographers distinguish between the Old English _b[-o]g_ or + _b[-o]h_ (O.H.G. buog = arm; Sanskrit, bahu-s = arm), which means arm, + arch, bough, or bow of a ship; and the Old English _boga_ (O.H.G. + bogo), which means the archer's bow. The distinction is continued in + Middle English, from the twelfth to the fifteenth century. Instances + of the use of the word as equivalent to 'arm' may be found in Old + English in _King Alfred's Translation of Gregory's Pastoral Care_ + (E.E.T.S., 1871, ed. H. Sweet) written in West Saxon dialect of the + ninth century. + + It is true that the word does not survive elsewhere in this meaning, + but I give the suggestion for what it is worth. + + ++Briar.+ + +'briar and rose,' _Douglas Tragedy_, 18, 19, 20; _Fair Margaret and +Sweet William_, 18, 19, 20; _Lord Lovel_, 9, 10; etc. + +'briar and birk,' _Lord Thomas and Fair Annet_, 29, 30; _Fair Janet_, +30; etc. + +'roses,' _Lady Alice_, 5, 6. (See introductory note to _Lord Lovel_, +p. 67.) + + The ballads which exhibit this pleasant conception that, after + death, the spirits of unfortunate lovers pass into plants, trees, or + flowers springing from their graves, are not confined to European + folklore. Besides appearing in English, Gaelic, Swedish, Norwegian, + Danish, German, French, Roumanian, Romaic, Portuguese, Servian, + Wendish, Breton, Italian, Albanian, Russian, etc., we find it + occurring in Afghanistan and Persia. As a rule, the branches of the + trees intertwine; but in some cases they only bend towards each + other, and kiss when the wind blows. + + In an Armenian tale a curious addition is made. A young man, + separated by her father from his sweetheart because he was of a + different religion, perished with her, and the two were buried by + their friends in one grave. Roses grew from the grave, and sought to + intertwine, but a _thorn-bush_ sprang up between them and prevented + it. The thorn here is symbolical of religious belief. + + ++Pin.+ + +'thrilled upon a pin,' _Glasgerion_, 10.2. + +'knocked at the ring,' _Fair Margaret and Sweet William_, 11.2. + +(_Cp._ 'lifted up the pin,' _Fair Janet_, 14.2.) + + Throughout the Scottish ballads the expression is 'tirl'd at the pin,' + _i.e._ rattled or twisted the pin. + + The pin appears to have been the external part of the door-latch, + attached by day thereto by means of a leathern thong, which at night + was disconnected with the latch to prevent any unbidden guest from + entering. Thus any one 'tirling at the pin' does not attempt to open + the door, but signifies his presence to those within. + + The ring was merely part of an ordinary knocker, and had nothing to + do with the latching of the door. + + ++Sword.+ + +'bright brown sword,' _Glasgerion_, 22.1; _Old Robin of Portingale_, +22.1; _Child Maurice_, 26.1, 27.1; 'good browne sword,' _Marriage of Sir +Gawaine_, 24.3; etc. + +'dried it on his sleeve,' _Glasgerion_, 22.2; _Child Maurice_, 27.2 ('on +the grasse,' 26.2); 'straiked it o'er a strae,' _Bonny Birdy_, 15.2; +'struck it across the plain,' _Johney Scot_, 32.2; etc. + + In Anglo-Saxon, the epithet 'brun' as applied to a sword has been + held to signify either that the sword was of bronze, or that the + sword gleamed. It has further been suggested that sword-blades may + have been artificially bronzed, like modern gun-barrels. + + 'Striped it thro' the straw' and many similar expressions all refer + to the whetting of a sword, generally just before using it. Straw + (unless 'strae' and 'straw' mean something else) would appear to be + very poor stuff on which to sharpen swords, but Glasgerion's sleeve + would be even less effective; perhaps, however, 'dried' should be + 'tried.' Johney Scot sharpened his sword on the ground. + + ++Miscellaneous.+ + +'gare' = gore, part of a woman's dress; _Brown Robin_, 10.4; cp. +_Glasgerion_, 19.4. + + Generally of a knife, apparently on a chatelaine. But in _Lamkin_ + 12.2, of a man's dress. + +'Linne,' 'Lin,' _Young Bekie_, 5.4; _Old Robin of Portingale_, 2.1. + + A stock ballad-locality, castle or town. Perhaps to be identified + with the city of Lincoln, perhaps with Lynn, or King's Lynn, in + Norfolk, where pilgrims of the fourteenth century visited the Rood + Chapel of Our Lady of Lynn, on their way to Walsingham; with equal + probability it is not to be identified at all with any known town. + +'shot-window,' _Gay Goshawk_, 8.3; _Brown Robin_, 3.3; _Lamkin_, 7.3; +etc. + + This commonplace phrase seems to vary in meaning. It may be 'a + shutter of timber with a few inches of glass above it' (Wodrow's + _History of the Sufferings of the Church of Scotland_, Edinburgh, + 1721-2, 2 vols., in vol. ii. p. 286); it may be simply 'a window to + open and shut,' as Ritson explains it; or again, as is implied in + Jamieson's _Etymological Dictionary of the Scottish Language_, an + out-shot window, or bow-window. The last certainly seems to be + intended in certain instances. + +'thought lang' _Young Bekie_, 16.4; _Brown Adam_, 5.2; _Johney Scot_, +6.2; _Fause Footrage_, 25.2; etc. + + This simply means 'thought it long,' or 'thought it slow,' as we + should say in modern slang; in short, 'was bored,' or 'weary.' + +'wild-wood swine,' a simile for drunkenness, _Brown Robin_, 7.4; _Fause +Footrage_, 16.4. + + _Cp._ Shakespeare, _All's Well that Ends Well_, Act IV. 3, 286: + 'Drunkenness is his best virtue; for he will be swine-drunk.' It + seems to be nothing more than a popular comparison. + + + + +LIST OF BOOKS FOR BALLAD STUDY FOR ENGLISH READERS + + +A.--The Literary History of Ballads + +The Introductions, etc., to the Collections of Ballads in List B. + +1861. _David Irving._ History of Scottish Poetry. + +1871. _Thomas Warton._ History of English Poetry, ed. W. Carew Hazlitt. +4 vols. + +1875. _Andrew Lang._ Article in Encyclopaedia Britannica (9th edition), +vol. iii. + +1876. _Stopford Brooke._ English Literature. New edition, enlarged, +1897. + +1883. _W. W. Newell._ Games and Songs of American Children. New York. + +1887. _Andrew Lang._ Myth, Ritual, and Religion. 2 vols. + +1893. _John Veitch._ History and Poetry of the Scottish Border. 2 vols. + +1893. _F. J. Child._ Article 'Ballads' in Johnson's Cyclopaedia, vol. i. +pp. 464-6. + +1895-97. _W. J. Courthope._ A History of English Poetry. Vols. i. +and ii. + +1897. _G. Gregory Smith._ The Transition Period: being vol. iv. of +Periods of English Literature, ed. G. Saintsbury. + +1898. _Andrew Lang_ in _Quarterly Review_ for July. + +1901. _F. B. Gummere._ The Beginnings of Poetry. + +1903. _E. K. Chambers._ The Mediaeval Stage. 2 vols. + +1903. _Andrew Lang_ in _Folk-Lore_ for June. + +1903. _J. H. Millar._ A Literary History of Scotland. + + +B.--Collections of Ballads + +[_This list does not pretend to be exhaustive, but to give the more +important collections, especially those containing trustworthy +Introductions._] + +1723-25. A Collection of Old Ballads, corrected from the best and most +ancient copies extant. 3 vols. London. + +1724. _Allan Ramsay._ The Ever-Green. 2 vols. Edinburgh. + +1724-27. _Allan Ramsay._ The Tea-Table Miscellany. First eight editions +in 3 vols., Edinburgh, Dublin, and London. Ninth and subsequent editions +in four volumes, or four volumes in one, London. + +1765. _Thomas Percy, Bishop of Dromore._ Reliques of Ancient English +Poetry. 3 vols. London. + +1769. _David Herd._ The Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, Heroic Ballads, +etc. Edinburgh. The second edition, 1776, under a slightly different +title. 2 vols. Edinburgh. + +1781. _John Pinkerton._ Scottish Tragic Ballads. London. + +1787-1803. _James Johnson._ The Scots Musical Museum. 6 vols. Edinburgh. + +1790. _Joseph Ritson._ Ancient Songs, etc. London. (Printed 1787, dated +1790, and published 1792.) + +1791. _Joseph Ritson._ Pieces of Ancient Popular Poetry. London. + +1794. _Joseph Ritson._ Scotish Song. 2 vols. London. + +1795. " " Robin Hood. 2 vols. London. + +1802-3. _Walter Scott._ Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border. 3 vols. Kelso +and Edinburgh. + +1806. _Robert Jamieson._ Popular Ballads and Songs from Tradition, +Manuscripts, and Scarce Editions. 2 vols. Edinburgh. + +1808. _John Finlay._ Scottish Historical and Romantic Ballads, chiefly +ancient. 2 vols. Edinburgh. + +1822. _Alexander Laing._ Scarce Ancient Ballads. Aberdeen. + +1823. _Alexander Laing._ The Thistle of Scotland. Aberdeen. + +1823. _Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe._ A Ballad Book. Edinburgh. + +1824. _James Maidment._ A North Countrie Garland. Edinburgh. + +1826. _Robert Chambers._ The Popular Rhymes of Scotland. Edinburgh. + +1827. _George Kinloch._ Ancient Scottish Ballads. London and Edinburgh. + +1827. _William Motherwell._ Minstrelsy, Ancient and Modern. Glasgow. + +1828. _Peter Buchan._ Ancient Ballads and Songs of the North of +Scotland. 2 vols. Edinburgh. + +1834. The Universal Songster. 3 vols. London. + +1845. _Alexander Whitelaw._ The Book of Scottish Ballads. Glasgow, +Edinburgh, and London. + +1846. _James Henry Dixon._ Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the +Peasantry of England. London. + +1847. _John Matthew Gutch._ A Lytyll Geste of Robin Hode. 2 vols. +London. + +1855-59. _William Chappell._ Popular Music of the Olden Time. 2 vols. +London. + +1857. _Robert Bell._ Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry +of England. London. + +1857-59. _Francis James Child._ English and Scottish Ballads. 8 vols. +2nd edition, 1864. + +1864. _William Allingham._ The Ballad Book. London. + +1867-68. _J. W. Hales_ and _F. J. Furnivall_. Bishop Percy's Folio +Manuscript. 4 vols. London. + +1882-98. _Francis James Child._ The English and Scottish Popular +Ballads. 5 vols. Boston, New York, and London. + +1895. _Andrew Lang._ Border Ballads. London: Lawrence and Bullen. + +1897. _Andrew Lang._ A Collection of Ballads. London: Chapman and Hall's +'Diamond Library.' + +1897. _Francis B. Gummere._ Old English Ballads. Boston, U.S.A. Athenaeum +Press Series. + +1902. _T. F. Henderson._ Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, by Sir +Walter Scott. New edition. 3 vols. London. + + + + +NOTE ON THE ILLUSTRATIONS + + +The illustrations on pp. 28, 75, and 118 are taken from Royal MS. 10. E. +iv. (of the fourteenth century) in the British Museum, where they occur +on folios 34 _verso_, 215 _recto_, and 254 _recto_ respectively. The +designs in the original form a decorated margin at the foot of each +page, and are outlined in ink and roughly tinted in three or four +colours. Much use is made of them in the illustrations to J. J. +Jusserand's _English Wayfaring Life in the Middle Ages_, where +M. Jusserand rightly points out that this MS. 'has perhaps never been so +thoroughly studied as it deserves.' + + + + +GLASGERION + + + Ther herde I pleyen on an harpe + That souned bothe wel and sharpe, + Orpheus ful craftely, + And on his syde, faste by, + Sat the harper Orion, + And Eacides Chiron, + And other harpers many oon, + And the Bret[A] Glascurion. + + --Chaucer, _Hous of Fame_, III. + + ++The Text+, from the Percy Folio, luckily is complete, saving an +omission of two lines. A few obvious corrections have been introduced, +and the Folio reading given in a footnote. Percy printed the ballad in +the _Reliques_, with far fewer alterations than usual. + ++The Story+ is also told in a milk-and-water Scotch version, +_Glenkindie_, doubtless mishandled by Jamieson, who 'improved' it from +two traditional sources. The admirable English ballad gives a striking +picture of the horror of 'churles blood' proper to feudal days. + +In the quotation above, Chaucer places Glascurion with Orpheus, Arion, +and Chiron, four great harpers. It is not improbable that Glascurion and +Glasgerion represent the Welsh bard Glas Keraint (Keraint the Blue Bard, +the chief bard wearing a blue robe of office), said to have been an +eminent poet, the son of Owain, Prince of Glamorgan. + +The oath taken 'by oak and ash and thorn' (stanza 18) is a relic of very +early times. An oath 'by corn' is in _Young Hunting_. + + [Footnote A: From Skeat's edition: elsewhere quoted 'gret + Glascurion.'] + + +GLASGERION + + 1. + Glasgerion was a king's own son, + And a harper he was good; + He harped in the king's chamber, + Where cup and candle stood, + And so did he in the queen's chamber, + Till ladies waxed wood. + + 2. + And then bespake the king's daughter, + And these words thus said she: + ... ... ... + ... ... ... + + 3. + Said, 'Strike on, strike on, Glasgerion, + Of thy striking do not blin; + There's never a stroke comes over this harp + But it glads my heart within.' + + 4. + 'Fair might you fall, lady,' quoth he; + 'Who taught you now to speak? + I have loved you, lady, seven year; + My heart I durst ne'er break.' + + 5. + 'But come to my bower, my Glasgerion, + When all men are at rest; + As I am a lady true of my promise, + Thou shalt be a welcome guest.' + + 6. + But home then came Glasgerion, + A glad man, Lord, was he! + 'And come thou hither, Jack, my boy, + Come hither unto me. + + 7. + 'For the king's daughter of Normandy + Her love is granted me, + And before the cock have crowen + At her chamber must I be.' + + 8. + 'But come you hither, master,' quoth he, + 'Lay your head down on this stone; + For I will waken you, master dear, + Afore it be time to gone.' + + 9. + But up then rose that lither lad, + And did on hose and shoon; + A collar he cast upon his neck, + He seemed a gentleman. + + 10. + And when he came to that lady's chamber, + He thrilled upon a pin. + The lady was true of her promise, + Rose up, and let him in. + + 11. + He did not take the lady gay + To bolster nor no bed, + But down upon her chamber-floor + Full soon he hath her laid. + + 12. + He did not kiss that lady gay + When he came nor when he yode; + And sore mistrusted that lady gay + He was of some churles blood. + + 13. + But home then came that lither lad, + And did off his hose and shoon. + And cast that collar from about his neck; + He was but a churles son: + 'Awaken,' quoth he, 'my master dear, + I hold it time to be gone. + + 14. + 'For I have saddled your horse, master, + Well bridled I have your steed; + Have not I served a good breakfast? + When time comes I have need.' + + 15. + But up then rose good Glasgerion, + And did on both hose and shoon, + And cast a collar about his neck; + He was a kinges son. + + 16. + And when he came to that lady's chamber, + He thrilled upon a pin; + The lady was more than true of her promise, + Rose up, and let him in. + + 17. + Says, 'Whether have you left with me + Your bracelet or your glove? + Or are you back returned again + To know more of my love?' + + 18. + Glasgerion swore a full great oath + By oak and ash and thorn, + 'Lady, I was never in your chamber + Sith the time that I was born.' + + 19. + 'O then it was your little foot-page + Falsely hath beguiled me': + And then she pull'd forth a little pen-knife + That hanged by her knee, + Says, 'There shall never no churles blood + Spring within my body.' + + 20. + But home then went Glasgerion, + A woe man, good [Lord], was he; + Says, 'Come hither, thou Jack, my boy, + Come thou thither to me. + + 21. + 'For if I had killed a man to-night, + Jack, I would tell it thee; + But if I have not killed a man to-night, + Jack, thou hast killed three!' + + 22. + And he pull'd out his bright brown sword, + And dried it on his sleeve, + And he smote off that lither lad's head, + And asked no man no leave. + + 23. + He set the sword's point till his breast, + The pommel till a stone; + Thorough that falseness of that lither lad + These three lives were all gone. + + [Annotations: + 1.4: Folio:-- 'where cappe & candle yoode.' Percy in the _Reliques_ + (1767) printed 'cuppe and _caudle_ stoode.' + 1.6: 'wood,' mad, wild (with delight). + 3.2: 'blin,' cease. + 4.4: _i.e._ durst never speak my mind. + 6.1: 'home'; Folio _whom_. + 7.3,4: These lines are reversed in the Folio. + 9.1: 'lither,' idle, wicked. + 10.2: 'thrilled,' twirled or rattled; cp. 'tirled at the pin,' a stock + ballad phrase (Scots). + 12.2: 'yode,' went. + 14.4: 'time': Folio _times_. + 17.3: Folio _you are_. + 22.2: Another commonplace of the ballads. The Scotch variant is + generally, 'And striped it thro' the straw.' See special section + of the Introduction. + 23.1,2: 'till,' to, against.] + + + + +YOUNG BEKIE + + ++The Text+ is that of the Jamieson-Brown MS., taken down from the +recitation of Mrs. Brown about 1783. In printing the ballad, Jamieson +collated with the above two other Scottish copies, one in MS., another a +stall-copy, a third from recitation in the north of England, a fourth +'picked off an old wall in Piccadilly' by the editor. + ++The Story+ has several variations of detail in the numerous versions +known (Young Bicham, Brechin, Bekie, Beachen, Beichan, Bichen, Lord +Beichan, Lord Bateman, Young Bondwell, etc.), but the text here given is +one of the most complete and vivid, and contains besides one feature +(the 'Belly Blin') lost in all other versions but one. + +A similar story is current in the ballad-literature of Scandinavia, +Spain, and Italy; but the English tale has undoubtedly been affected by +the charming legend of Gilbert Becket, the father of Saint Thomas, who, +having been captured by Admiraud, a Saracen prince, and held in durance +vile, was freed by Admiraud's daughter, who then followed him to +England, knowing no English but 'London' and 'Gilbert'; and after much +tribulation, found him and was married to him. 'Becket' is sufficiently +near 'Bekie' to prove contamination, but not to prove that the legend is +the origin of the ballad. + +The Belly Blin (Billie Blin = billie, a man; blin', blind, and so Billie +Blin = Blindman's Buff, formerly called Hoodman Blind) occurs in certain +other ballads, such as _Cospatrick_, _Willie's Lady_, and the _Knight +and the Shepherd's Daughter_; also in a mutilated ballad of the Percy +Folio, _King Arthur and King Cornwall_, under the name Burlow Beanie. In +the latter case he is described as 'a lodly feend, with seuen heads, and +one body,' breathing fire; but in general he is a serviceable household +demon. Cp. German _bilwiz_, and Dutch _belewitte_. + + +YOUNG BEKIE + + 1. + Young Bekie was as brave a knight + As ever sail'd the sea; + An' he's doen him to the court of France, + To serve for meat and fee. + + 2. + He had nae been i' the court of France + A twelvemonth nor sae long, + Til he fell in love with the king's daughter, + An' was thrown in prison strong. + + 3. + The king he had but ae daughter, + Burd Isbel was her name; + An' she has to the prison-house gane, + To hear the prisoner's mane. + + 4. + 'O gin a lady woud borrow me, + At her stirrup-foot I woud rin; + Or gin a widow wad borrow me, + I woud swear to be her son. + + 5. + 'Or gin a virgin woud borrow me, + I woud wed her wi' a ring; + I'd gi' her ha's, I'd gie her bowers, + The bonny tow'rs o' Linne.' + + 6. + O barefoot, barefoot gaed she but, + An' barefoot came she ben; + It was no for want o' hose an' shoone, + Nor time to put them on; + + 7. + But a' for fear that her father dear, + Had heard her making din: + She's stown the keys o' the prison-house dor + An' latten the prisoner gang. + + 8. + O whan she saw him, Young Bekie, + Her heart was wondrous sair! + For the mice but an' the bold rottons + Had eaten his yallow hair. + + 9. + She's gi'en him a shaver for his beard, + A comber till his hair, + Five hunder pound in his pocket, + To spen', and nae to spair. + + 10. + She's gi'en him a steed was good in need, + An' a saddle o' royal bone, + A leash o' hounds o' ae litter, + An' Hector called one. + + 11. + Atween this twa a vow was made, + 'Twas made full solemnly, + That or three years was come and gane, + Well married they shoud be. + + 12. + He had nae been in's ain country + A twelvemonth till an end, + Till he's forc'd to marry a duke's daughter, + Or than lose a' his land. + + 13. + 'Ohon, alas!' says Young Bekie, + 'I know not what to dee; + For I canno win to Burd Isbel, + And she kensnae to come to me.' + + 14. + O it fell once upon a day + Burd Isbel fell asleep, + An' up it starts the Belly Blin, + An' stood at her bed-feet. + + 15. + 'O waken, waken, Burd Isbel, + How [can] you sleep so soun', + Whan this is Bekie's wedding day, + An' the marriage gain' on? + + 16. + 'Ye do ye to your mither's bow'r, + Think neither sin nor shame; + An' ye tak twa o' your mither's marys, + To keep ye frae thinking lang. + + 17. + 'Ye dress yoursel' in the red scarlet, + An' your marys in dainty green, + An' ye pit girdles about your middles + Woud buy an earldome. + + 18. + 'O ye gang down by yon sea-side, + An' down by yon sea-stran'; + Sae bonny will the Hollans boats + Come rowin' till your han'. + + 19. + 'Ye set your milk-white foot abord, + Cry, Hail ye, Domine! + An' I shal be the steerer o't, + To row you o'er the sea.' + + 20. + She's tane her till her mither's bow'r, + Thought neither sin nor shame, + An' she took twa o' her mither's marys, + To keep her frae thinking lang. + + 21. + She dress'd hersel' i' the red scarlet. + Her marys i' dainty green, + And they pat girdles about their middles + Woud buy an earldome. + + 22. + An' they gid down by yon sea-side, + An' down by yon sea-stran'; + Sae bonny did the Hollan boats + Come rowin' to their han'. + + 23. + She set her milk-white foot on board, + Cried 'Hail ye, Domine!' + An' the Belly Blin was the steerer o't, + To row her o'er the sea. + + 24. + Whan she came to Young Bekie's gate, + She heard the music play; + Sae well she kent frae a' she heard, + It was his wedding day. + + 25. + She's pitten her han' in her pocket, + Gin the porter guineas three; + 'Hae, tak ye that, ye proud porter, + Bid the bride-groom speake to me.' + + 26. + O whan that he cam up the stair, + He fell low down on his knee: + He hail'd the king, an' he hail'd the queen, + An' he hail'd him, Young Bekie. + + 27. + 'O I've been porter at your gates + This thirty years an' three; + But there's three ladies at them now, + Their like I never did see. + + 28. + 'There's ane o' them dress'd in red scarlet, + And twa in dainty green, + An' they hae girdles about their middles + Woud buy an earldome.' + + 29. + Then out it spake the bierly bride, + Was a' goud to the chin: + 'Gin she be braw without,' she says, + 'We's be as braw within.' + + 30. + Then up it starts him, Young Bekie, + An' the tears was in his ee: + 'I'll lay my life it's Burd Isbel, + Come o'er the sea to me.' + + 31. + O quickly ran he down the stair, + An' whan he saw 'twas she, + He kindly took her in his arms, + And kiss'd her tenderly. + + 32. + 'O hae ye forgotten, Young Bekie + The vow ye made to me, + Whan I took ye out o' the prison strong + Whan ye was condemn'd to die? + + 33. + 'I gae you a steed was good in need, + An' a saddle o' royal bone, + A leash o' hounds o' ae litter, + An' Hector called one.' + + 34. + It was well kent what the lady said, + That it wasnae a lee, + For at ilka word the lady spake, + The hound fell at her knee. + + 35. + 'Tak hame, tak hame your daughter dear, + A blessing gae her wi', + For I maun marry my Burd Isbel, + That's come o'er the sea to me.' + + 36. + 'Is this the custom o' your house, + Or the fashion o' your lan', + To marry a maid in a May mornin', + An' send her back at even?' + + [Annotations: + 4.1: 'borrow,' ransom. + 6.1,2: 'but ... ben,' out ... in. + 7.3: 'stown,' stolen. + 8.3: 'rottons,' rats. + 15.2: The MS. reads 'How y you.' + 16.3: 'marys,' maids. + 29.1: 'bierly,' stately.] + + + + +OLD ROBIN OF PORTINGALE + + ++Text.+-- The Percy Folio is the sole authority for this excellent +ballad, and the text of the MS. is therefore given here _literatim_, in +preference to the copy served up 'with considerable corrections' by +Percy in the _Reliques_. I have, however, substituted a few obvious +emendations suggested by Professor Child, giving the Folio reading in a +footnote. + ++The Story+ is practically identical with that of _Little Musgrave and +Lady Barnard_; but each is so good, though in a different vein, that +neither could be excluded. + +The last stanza narrates the practice of burning a cross on the flesh of +the right shoulder when setting forth to the Holy Land--a practice which +obtained only among the very devout or superstitious of the Crusaders. +Usually a cross of red cloth attached to the right shoulder of the coat +was deemed sufficient. + + +OLD ROBIN OF PORTINGALE + + 1. + God! let neuer soe old a man + Marry soe yonge a wiffe + As did old Robin of Portingale! + He may rue all the dayes of his liffe. + + 2. + Ffor the Maior's daughter of Lin, God wott, + He chose her to his wife, + & thought to haue liued in quiettnesse + With her all the dayes of his liffe. + + 3. + They had not in their wed bed laid, + Scarcly were both on sleepe, + But vpp she rose, & forth shee goes + To Sir Gyles, & fast can weepe. + + 4. + Saies, 'Sleepe you, wake you, faire Sir Gyles + Or be not you within?' + ... ... ... + ... ... ... + + 5. + 'But I am waking, sweete,' he said, + 'Lady, what is your will?' + 'I haue vnbethought me of a wile, + How my wed lord we shall spill. + + 6. + 'Four and twenty knights,' she sayes, + 'That dwells about this towne, + Eene four and twenty of my next cozens, + Will helpe to dinge him downe.' + + 7. + With that beheard his litle foote page, + As he was watering his master's steed, + Soe ... ... ... + His verry heart did bleed; + + 8. + He mourned, sikt, & wept full sore; + I sweare by the holy roode, + The teares he for his master wept + Were blend water & bloude. + + 9. + With that beheard his deare master + As in his garden sate; + Sayes, 'Euer alacke, my litle page, + What causes thee to weepe? + + 10. + 'Hath any one done to thee wronge, + Any of thy fellowes here? + Or is any of thy good friends dead, + Which makes thee shed such teares? + + 11. + 'Or if it be my head kookes man + Greiued againe he shalbe, + Nor noe man within my howse + Shall doe wrong vnto thee.' + + 12. + 'But it is not your head kookes man, + Nor none of his degree, + But or tomorrow ere it be noone, + You are deemed to die; + + 13. + '& of that thanke your head steward, + & after your gay ladie.' + 'If it be true, my litle foote page, + Ile make thee heyre of all my land.' + + 14. + 'If it be not true, my deare master, + God let me neuer thye.' + 'If it be not true, thou litle foot page, + A dead corse shalt thou be.' + + 15. + He called downe his head kooke's man: + 'Cooke, in kitchen super to dresse': + 'All & anon, my deare master, + Anon att your request.' + + 16. + '& call you downe my faire Lady, + This night to supp with mee.' + ... ... ... + ... ... ... + + 17. + & downe then came that fayre Lady, + Was cladd all in purple & palle, + The rings that were vpon her fingers + Cast light thorrow the hall. + + 18. + 'What is your will, my owne wed Lord, + What is your will with me?' + 'I am sicke, fayre Lady, + Sore sicke, & like to dye.' + + 19. + 'But & you be sicke, my owne wed Lord, + Soe sore it greiueth mee, + But my 5 maydens & my selfe + Will goe & make your bedd, + + 20. + '& at the wakening of your first sleepe, + You shall haue a hott drinke made, + & at the wakening of your next sleepe + Your sorrowes will haue a slake.' + + 21. + He put a silke cote on his backe, + Was 13 inches folde, + & put a steele cap vpon his head, + Was gilded with good red gold; + + 22. + & he layd a bright browne sword by his side + & another att his ffeete, + & full well knew old Robin then + Whether he shold wake or sleepe. + + 23. + & about the middle time of the night + Came 24 good knights in, + Sir Gyles he was the formost man, + Soe well he knew that ginne. + + 24. + Old Robin with a bright browne sword + Sir Gyles' head he did winne, + Soe did he all those 24, + Neuer a one went quicke out [agen]; + + 25. + None but one litle foot page + Crept forth at a window of stone, + & he had 2 armes when he came in + And [when he went out he had none]. + + 26. + Vpp then came that ladie light + With torches burning bright; + Shee thought to haue brought Sir Gyles a drinke, + But shee found her owne wedd knight; + + 27. + & the first thing that this ladye stumbled vpon, + Was of Sir Gyles his ffoote; + Sayes, 'Euer alacke, & woe is me, + Heere lyes my sweete hart roote!' + + 28. + & the 2d. thing that this ladie stumbled on, + Was of Sir Gyles his head; + Sayes, 'Euer alacke, & woe is me, + Heere lyes my true loue deade!' + + 29. + Hee cutt the papps beside her brest, + & bad her wish her will, + & he cutt the eares beside her heade, + & bade her wish on still. + + 30. + 'Mickle is the man's blood I haue spent + To doe thee & me some good'; + Sayes, 'Euer alacke, my fayre Lady, + I thinke that I was woode!' + + 31. + He call'd then vp his litle foote page, + & made him heyre of all his land, + ... ... ... + ... ... ... + + 32. + & he shope the crosse in his right sholder + Of the white flesh & the redd, + & he went him into the holy land, + Wheras Christ was quicke and dead. + + + [Annotations: + 2.1: 'Lin,' a stock ballad-locality: cp. _Young Bekie_, 5.4. + 5.3: 'vnbethought.' The same expression occurs in two other places + in the Percy Folio, each time apparently in the same sense of + 'bethought [him] of.' + 6.1,3: 'Four and twenty': the Folio gives '24' in each case. + 8.1: 'sikt,' sighed. The Folio reads _sist_. + 11.1, 12.1: The Folio reads _bookes man_; but see 15.1. + 14.2: 'thye,' thrive: the Folio reads _dye_. + 19.1: '&' = an, if. + 20.3: 'next': the Folio reads _first_ again; probably the copyist's + error. + 23.4: 'ginne,' door-latch. + 24.4: 'quicke,' alive. The last word was added by Percy in the Folio. + 25.4: Added by Hales and Furnivall. + 26.1,2: _light_ and _bright_ are interchanged in the Folio. + 32.3: 'went': the Folio gives _sent_.] + + + + +LITTLE MUSGRAVE AND LADY BARNARD + + ++The Text+ here given is the version printed, with very few variations, +in _Wit Restor'd_, 1658, _Wit and Drollery_, 1682, Dryden's +_Miscellany_, 1716, etc. The Percy Folio contains a fragmentary version, +consisting of some dozen stanzas. Child says that all the Scottish +versions are late, and probably derived, though taken down from oral +tradition, from printed copies. As recompense, we have the Scotch _Bonny +Birdy_. + ++The Story+ would seem to be purely English. That it was popular long +before the earliest known text is proved by quotations from it in old +plays: as from _Fair Margaret and Sweet William_. Merrythought in _The +Knight of the Burning Pestle_ (1611) sings from this ballad a version of +stanza 14, and Beaumont and Fletcher also put quotations into the mouths +of characters in _Bonduca_ (circ. 1619) and _Monsieur Thomas_ (circ. +1639). Other plays before 1650 also mention it. + +The reader should remember, once for all, that burdens are to be +repeated in every verse, though printed only in the first. + + +LITTLE MUSGRAVE AND LADY BARNARD + + 1. + As it fell one holy-day, + _Hay downe_ + As many be in the yeare, + When young men and maids together did goe, + Their mattins and masse to heare; + + 2. + Little Musgrave came to the church-dore;-- + The preist was at private masse;-- + But he had more minde of the faire women + Then he had of our lady['s] grace. + + 3. + The one of them was clad in green, + Another was clad in pall, + And then came in my lord Barnard's wife, + The fairest amonst them all. + + 4. + She cast an eye on Little Musgrave, + As bright as the summer sun; + And then bethought this Little Musgrave, + 'This lady's heart have I woonn.' + + 5. + Quoth she, 'I have loved thee, Little Musgrave, + Full long and many a day'; + 'So have I loved you, fair lady, + Yet never word durst I say.' + + 6. + 'I have a bower at Bucklesfordbery, + Full daintyly is it deight; + If thou wilt wend thither, thou Little Musgrave, + Thou's lig in mine armes all night.' + + 7. + Quoth he, 'I thank yee, fair lady, + This kindnes thou showest to me; + But whether it be to my weal or woe, + This night I will lig with thee.' + + 8. + With that he heard, a little tyne page, + By his ladye's coach as he ran: + 'All though I am my ladye's foot-page, + Yet I am Lord Barnard's man. + + 9. + 'My lord Barnard shall knowe of this, + Whether I sink or swim'; + And ever where the bridges were broake + He laid him downe to swimme. + + 10. + 'A sleepe or wake, thou Lord Barnard, + As thou art a man of life, + For Little Musgrave is at Bucklesfordbery, + A bed with thy own wedded wife.' + + 11. + 'If this be true, thou little tinny page, + This thing thou tellest to me, + Then all the land in Bucklesfordbery + I freely will give to thee. + + 12. + 'But if it be a ly, thou little tinny page, + This thing thou tellest to me, + On the hyest tree in Bucklesfordbery + Then hanged shalt thou be.' + + 13. + He called up his merry men all: + 'Come saddle me my steed; + This night must I to Bucklesfordbery, + For I never had greater need.' + + 14. + And some of them whistled, and some of them sung, + And some these words did say, + And ever when my lord Barnard's horn blew, + 'Away, Musgrave, away!' + + 15. + 'Methinks I hear the thresel-cock, + Methinks I hear the jaye; + Methinks I hear my Lord Barnard, + And I would I were away!' + + 16. + 'Lye still, lye still, thou little Musgrave, + And huggell me from the cold; + 'Tis nothing but a shephard's boy + A driving his sheep to the fold. + + 17. + 'Is not thy hawke upon a perch, + Thy steed eats oats and hay, + And thou a fair lady in thine armes, + And wouldst thou bee away?' + + 18. + With that my lord Barnard came to the dore, + And lit a stone upon; + He plucked out three silver keys + And he open'd the dores each one. + + 19. + He lifted up the coverlett, + He lifted up the sheet: + 'How now, how now, thou Little Musgrave, + Doest thou find my lady sweet?' + + 20. + 'I find her sweet,' quoth Little Musgrave, + 'The more 'tis to my paine; + I would gladly give three hundred pounds + That I were on yonder plaine.' + + 21. + 'Arise, arise, thou Little Musgrave, + And put thy clothes on; + It shall nere be said in my country + I have killed a naked man. + + 22. + 'I have two swords in one scabberd, + Full deere they cost my purse; + And thou shalt have the best of them, + And I will have the worse.' + + 23. + The first stroke that Little Musgrave stroke, + He hurt Lord Barnard sore; + The next stroke that Lord Barnard stroke, + Little Musgrave nere struck more. + + 24. + With that bespake this faire lady, + In bed whereas she lay: + 'Although thou'rt dead, thou Little Musgrave, + Yet I for thee will pray. + + 25. + 'And wish well to thy soule will I, + So long as I have life; + So will I not for thee, Barnard, + Although I am thy wedded wife.' + + 26. + He cut her paps from off her brest; + Great pitty it was to see + That some drops of this ladies heart's blood + Ran trickling downe her knee. + + 27. + 'Woe worth you, woe worth, my mery men all, + You were nere borne for my good; + Why did you not offer to stay my hand, + When you see me wax so wood? + + 28. + 'For I have slaine the bravest sir knight + That ever rode on steed; + So have I done the fairest lady + That over did woman's deed. + + 29. + 'A grave, a grave,' Lord Barnard cry'd, + 'To put these lovers in; + But lay my lady on the upper hand, + For she came of the better kin.' + + + [Annotations: + 3.2: 'pall,' a cloak: some versions read _pale_. + 6.2: 'deight,' _i.e._ dight, decked, dressed. + 15.1: 'thresel-cock,' throstle, thrush. + 27.4: 'wood,' wild, fierce.] + + + + +THE BONNY BIRDY + + ++Text.+--From the Jamieson-Brown MS. Jamieson, in printing this ballad, +enlarged and rewrote much of it, making the burden part of the dialogue +throughout. + ++The Story+ is much the same as that of _Little Musgrave and Lady +Barnard_; but the ballad as a whole is worthy of comparison with the +longer English ballad for the sake of its lyrical setting. + + +THE BONNY BIRDY + + 1. + There was a knight, in a summer's night, + Was riding o'er the lee, _(diddle)_ + An' there he saw a bonny birdy, + Was singing upon a tree. _(diddle)_ + + O wow for day! _(diddle)_ + An' dear gin it were day! _(diddle)_ + Gin it were day, an' gin I were away, + For I ha' na lang time to stay. _(diddle)_ + + 2. + 'Make hast, make hast, ye gentle knight, + What keeps you here so late? + Gin ye kent what was doing at hame, + I fear you woud look blate.' + + 3. + 'O what needs I toil day an' night, + My fair body to kill, + Whan I hae knights at my comman', + An' ladys at my will?' + + 4. + 'Ye lee, ye lee, ye gentle knight, + Sa loud's I hear you lee; + Your lady's a knight in her arms twa + That she lees far better nor thee.' + + 5. + 'Ye lee, ye lee, you bonny birdy, + How you lee upo' my sweet! + I will tak' out my bonny bow, + An' in troth I will you sheet.' + + 6. + 'But afore ye hae your bow well bent, + An' a' your arrows yare, + I will flee till another tree, + Whare I can better fare.' + + 7. + 'O whare was you gotten, and whare was ye clecked? + My bonny birdy, tell me'; + 'O I was clecked in good green wood, + Intill a holly tree; + A gentleman my nest herryed + An' ga' me to his lady. + + 8. + 'Wi' good white bread an' farrow-cow milk + He bade her feed me aft, + An' ga' her a little wee simmer-dale wanny, + To ding me sindle and saft. + + 9. + 'Wi' good white bread an' farrow-cow milk + I wot she fed me nought, + But wi' a little wee simmer-dale wanny + She dang me sair an' aft: + Gin she had deen as ye her bade, + I wouldna tell how she has wrought.' + + 10. + The knight he rade, and the birdy flew, + The live-lang simmer's night, + Till he came till his lady's bow'r-door, + Then even down he did light: + The birdy sat on the crap of a tree, + An' I wot it sang fu' dight. + + 11. + 'O wow for day! _(diddle)_ + An' dear gin it were day! _(diddle)_ + Gin it were day, and gin I were away, + For I ha' na lang time to stay.' _(diddle)_ + + 12. + 'What needs ye lang for day, _(diddle)_ + An' wish that you were away? _(diddle)_ + Is no your hounds i' my cellar. + Eating white meal and gray?' _(diddle)_ + 'O wow for day,' _etc._ + + 13. + 'Is nae you[r] steed in my stable, + Eating good corn an' hay? + An' is nae your hawk i' my perch-tree, + Just perching for his prey? + An' is nae yoursel i' my arms twa? + Then how can ye lang for day?' + + 14. + 'O wow for day! _(diddle)_ + An' dear gin it were day! _(diddle)_ + For he that's in bed wi' anither man's wife + Has never lang time to stay.' _(diddle)_ + + 15. + Then out the knight has drawn his sword, + An' straiked it o'er a strae, + An' thro' and thro' the fa'se knight's waste + He gard cauld iron gae: + An' I hope ilk ane sal sae be serv'd + That treats ane honest man sae. + + + [Annotations: + 2.4: 'blate,' astonished, abashed. + 7.1: 'clecked,' hatched. + 8.1: 'A Farrow Cow is a Cow that gives Milk in the second year after + her Calving, having no Calf that year.'--Holme's _Armoury_, 1688. + 8.3: 'wanny,' wand, rod: 'simmer-dale,' apparently = summer-dale. + 8.4: 'sindle,' seldom. + 10.5: 'crap,' top. + 10.6: 'dight,' freely, readily. + 15.1-4: Cp. _Clerk Sanders_, 15.] + + + [Illustration] + + + + +FAIR ANNIE + + ++The Text+ is that of Scott's _Minstrelsy_, 'chiefly from the recitation +of an old woman.' Scott names the ballad 'Lord Thomas and Fair Annie,' +adding to the confusion already existing with 'Lord Thomas and Fair +Annet.' + ++The Story.+--Fair Annie, stolen from the home of her father, the Earl +of Wemyss, by 'a knight out o'er the sea,' has borne seven sons to him. +He now bids her prepare to welcome home his real bride, and she meekly +obeys, suppressing her tears with difficulty. Lord Thomas and his +new-come bride hear, through the wall of their bridal chamber, Annie +bewailing her lot, and wishing her seven sons had never been born. The +bride goes to comfort her, discovers in her a long-lost sister, and +departs, thanking heaven she goes a maiden home. + +Of this ballad, Herd printed a fragment in 1769, some stanzas being +incorporated in the present version. Similar tales abound in the +folklore of Scandinavia, Holland, and Germany. But, three hundred years +older than any version of the ballad, is the lay of Marie de France, _Le +Lai de Freisne_; which, nevertheless, is only another offshoot of some +undiscovered common origin. + +It is imperative (in 4.4) that Annie should _braid_ her hair, as a sign +of virginity: married women only bound up their hair, or wore it under a +cap. + + +FAIR ANNIE + + 1. + 'It's narrow, narrow, make your bed, + And learn to lie your lane; + For I'm ga'n o'er the sea, Fair Annie, + A braw bride to bring hame. + Wi' her I will get gowd and gear; + Wi' you I ne'er got nane. + + 2. + 'But wha will bake my bridal bread, + Or brew my bridal ale? + And wha will welcome my brisk bride, + That I bring o'er the dale?' + + 3. + 'It's I will bake your bridal bread, + And brew your bridal ale; + And I will welcome your brisk bride, + That you bring o'er the dale.' + + 4. + 'But she that welcomes my brisk bride + Maun gang like maiden fair; + She maun lace on her robe sae jimp, + And braid her yellow hair.' + + 5. + 'But how can I gang maiden-like, + When maiden I am nane? + Have I not born seven sons to thee, + And am with child again?' + + 6. + She's taen her young son in her arms, + Another in her hand, + And she's up to the highest tower, + To see him come to land. + + 7. + 'Come up, come up, my eldest son, + And look o'er yon sea-strand, + And see your father's new-come bride, + Before she come to land.' + + 8. + 'Come down, come down, my mother dear, + Come frae the castle wa'! + I fear, if langer ye stand there, + Ye'll let yoursell down fa'.' + + 9. + And she gaed down, and farther down, + Her love's ship for to see, + And the topmast and the mainmast + Shone like the silver free. + + 10. + And she's gane down, and farther down, + The bride's ship to behold, + And the topmast and the mainmast + They shone just like the gold. + + 11. + She's taen her seven sons in her hand, + I wot she didna fail; + She met Lord Thomas and his bride, + As they came o'er the dale. + + 12. + 'You're welcome to your house, Lord Thomas, + You're welcome to your land; + You're welcome with your fair ladye, + That you lead by the hand. + + 13. + 'You're welcome to your ha's, ladye, + You're welcome to your bowers; + You're welcome to your hame, ladye, + For a' that's here is yours.' + + 14. + 'I thank thee, Annie, I thank thee, Annie, + Sae dearly as I thank thee; + You're the likest to my sister Annie, + That ever I did see. + + 15. + 'There came a knight out o'er the sea, + And steal'd my sister away; + The shame scoup in his company, + And land where'er he gae!' + + 16. + She hang ae napkin at the door, + Another in the ha', + And a' to wipe the trickling tears, + Sae fast as they did fa'. + + 17. + And aye she served the long tables, + With white bread and with wine; + And aye she drank the wan water, + To had her colour fine. + + 18. + And aye she served the lang tables, + With white bread and with brown; + And ay she turned her round about + Sae fast the tears fell down. + + 19. + And he's taen down the silk napkin, + Hung on a silver pin, + And aye he wipes the tear trickling + A' down her cheek and chin. + + 20. + And aye he turned him round about, + And smil'd amang his men; + Says, 'Like ye best the old ladye, + Or her that's new come hame?' + + 21. + When bells were rung, and mass was sung, + And a' men bound to bed, + Lord Thomas and his new-come bride + To their chamber they were gaed. + + 22. + Annie made her bed a little forbye, + To hear what they might say; + 'And ever alas,' Fair Annie cried, + 'That I should see this day! + + 23. + 'Gin my seven sons were seven young rats + Running on the castle wa', + And I were a gray cat mysell, + I soon would worry them a'. + + 24. + 'Gin my seven sons were seven young hares, + Running o'er yon lilly lee, + And I were a grew hound mysell, + Soon worried they a' should be.' + + 25. + And wae and sad Fair Annie sat, + And drearie was her sang, + And ever, as she sobb'd and grat, + 'Wae to the man that did the wrang!' + + 26. + 'My gown is on,' said the new-come bride, + 'My shoes are on my feet, + And I will to Fair Annie's chamber, + And see what gars her greet. + + 27. + 'What ails ye, what ails ye, Fair Annie, + That ye make sic a moan? + Has your wine barrels cast the girds, + Or is your white bread gone? + + 28. + 'O wha was't was your father, Annie, + Or wha was't was your mother? + And had ye ony sister, Annie, + Or had ye ony brother?' + + 29. + 'The Earl of Wemyss was my father, + The Countess of Wemyss my mother; + And a' the folk about the house + To me were sister and brother.' + + 30. + 'If the Earl of Wemyss was your father, + I wot sae he was mine; + And it shall not be for lack o' gowd + That ye your love sall tyne. + + 31. + 'For I have seven ships o' mine ain, + A' loaded to the brim, + And I will gie them a' to thee, + Wi' four to thine eldest son: + But thanks to a' the powers in heaven + That I gae maiden hame!' + + + [Annotations: + 15.3: 'scoup,' fly, hasten. + 17.4: 'had' = haud, hold. + 22.1: 'forbye,' apart. + 24.2: 'lilly lee,' lovely lea. + 30.4: 'tyne,' lose.] + + + + +THE CRUEL MOTHER + + ++The Text+ is given from Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, earlier versions +being only fragmentary. + ++The Story+ has a close parallel in a Danish ballad; and another, +popular all over Germany, is a variation of the same theme, but in place +of the mother's final doom being merely mentioned, in the German ballad +she is actually carried away by the devil. + +In a small group of ballads, the penknife appears to be the ideal weapon +for murder or suicide. See the _Twa Brothers_ and the _Bonny Hind_. + + +THE CRUEL MOTHER + + 1. + She leaned her back unto a thorn; + _Three, three, and three by three_ + And there she has her two babes born. + _Three, three, and thirty-three_. + + 2. + She took frae 'bout her ribbon-belt, + And there she bound them hand and foot. + + 3. + She has ta'en out her wee pen-knife, + And there she ended baith their life. + + 4. + She has howked a hole baith deep and wide, + She has put them in baith side by side. + + 5. + She has covered them o'er wi' a marble stane, + Thinking she would gang maiden hame. + + 6. + As she was walking by her father's castle wa', + She saw twa pretty babes playing at the ba'. + + 7. + 'O bonnie babes, gin ye were mine, + I would dress you up in satin fine. + + 8. + 'O I would dress you in the silk, + And wash you ay in morning milk.' + + 9. + 'O cruel mother, we were thine, + And thou made us to wear the twine. + + 10. + 'O cursed mother, heaven's high, + And that's where thou will ne'er win nigh. + + 11. + 'O cursed mother, hell is deep, + And there thou'll enter step by step.' + + + [Annotations: + 9.2: 'twine,' coarse cloth; _i.e._ shroud.] + + + + +CHILD WATERS + + ++The Text+ is here given from the Percy Folio, with some emendations as +suggested by Child. + ++The Story+, if we omit the hard tests imposed on the maid's affection, +is widely popular in a series of Scandinavian ballads,--Danish, Swedish, +and Norwegian; and Percy's edition (in the _Reliques_) was popularised +in Germany by Buerger's translation. + +The disagreeable nature of the final insult (stt. 27-29), retained here +only for the sake of fidelity to the original text, may be paralleled by +the similarly sudden lapse of taste in the _Nut-Brown Maid_. We can but +hope--as indeed is probable--that the objectionable lines are in each +case interpolated. + +'Child,' as in 'Child Roland,' etc., is a title of courtesy = Knight. + + +CHILD WATERS + + 1. + Childe Watters in his stable stoode, + & stroaket his milke-white steede; + To him came a ffaire young ladye + As ere did weare womans weede. + + 2. + Saies, 'Christ you saue, good Chyld Waters!' + Sayes, 'Christ you saue and see! + My girdle of gold which was too longe + Is now to short ffor mee. + + 3. + '& all is with one chyld of yours, + I ffeele sturre att my side: + My gowne of greene, it is to strayght; + Before it was to wide.' + + 4. + 'If the child be mine, faire Ellen,' he sayd, + 'Be mine, as you tell mee, + Take you Cheshire & Lancashire both, + Take them your owne to bee. + + 5. + 'If the child be mine, ffaire Ellen,' he said, + 'Be mine, as you doe sweare, + Take you Cheshire & Lancashire both, + & make that child your heyre.' + + 6. + Shee saies, 'I had rather haue one kisse, + Child Waters, of thy mouth, + Then I would have Cheshire & Lancashire both, + That lyes by north & south. + + 7. + '& I had rather haue a twinkling, + Child Waters, of your eye, + Then I would have Cheshire & Lancashire both, + To take them mine oune to bee!' + + 8. + 'To-morrow, Ellen, I must forth ryde + Soe ffar into the north countrye; + The ffairest lady that I can ffind, + Ellen, must goe with mee.' + '& euer I pray you, Child Watters, + Your ffootpage let me bee!' + + 9. + 'If you will my ffootpage be, Ellen, + As you doe tell itt mee, + Then you must cut your gownne of greene + An inch aboue your knee. + + 10. + 'Soe must you doe your yellow lockes + Another inch aboue your eye; + You must tell no man what is my name; + My ffootpage then you shall bee.' + + 11. + All this long day Child Waters rode, + Shee ran bare ffoote by his side; + Yett was he neuer soe curteous a knight, + To say, 'Ellen, will you ryde?' + + 12. + But all this day Child Waters rode, + She ran barffoote thorow the broome! + Yett he was neuer soe curteous a knight + As to say, 'Put on your shoone.' + + 13. + 'Ride softlye,' shee said, 'Child Watters: + Why do you ryde soe ffast? + The child, which is no mans but yours, + My bodye itt will burst.' + + 14. + He sayes, 'Sees thou yonder water, Ellen, + That fflowes from banke to brim?' + 'I trust to God, Child Waters,' shee sayd, + 'You will neuer see mee swime.' + + 15. + But when shee came to the waters side, + Shee sayled to the chinne: + 'Except the lord of heauen be my speed, + Now must I learne to swime.' + + 16. + The salt waters bare vp Ellens clothes, + Our Ladye bare vpp her chinne, + & Child Waters was a woe man, good Lord, + To ssee faire Ellen swime. + + 17. + & when shee ouer the water was, + Shee then came to his knee: + He said, 'Come hither, ffaire Ellen, + Loe yonder what I see! + + 18. + 'Seest thou not yonder hall, Ellen? + Of redd gold shine the yates; + There's four and twenty ffayre ladyes, + The ffairest is my wordlye make. + + 19. + 'Seest thou not yonder hall, Ellen? + Of redd gold shineth the tower; + There is four and twenty ffaire ladyes, + The fairest is my paramoure.' + + 20. + 'I doe see the hall now, Child Waters, + That of redd gold shineth the yates; + God giue good then of your selfe, + & of your wordlye make! + + 21. + 'I doe see the hall now, Child Waters, + That of redd gold shineth the tower; + God giue good then of your selfe, + And of your paramoure!' + + 22. + There were four and twenty ladyes, + Were playing att the ball; + & Ellen, was the ffairest ladye, + Must bring his steed to the stall. + + 23. + There were four and twenty faire ladyes + Was playing att the chesse; + & Ellen, shee was the ffairest ladye, + Must bring his horsse to grasse. + + 24. + & then bespake Child Waters sister, + & these were the words said shee: + 'You haue the prettyest ffootpage, brother, + That ever I saw with mine eye; + + 25. + 'But that his belly it is soe bigg, + His girdle goes wonderous hye; + & euer I pray you, Child Waters, + Let him go into the chamber with me.' + + 26. + 'It is more meete for a litle ffootpage, + That has run through mosse and mire, + To take his supper vpon his knee + & sitt downe by the kitchin fyer, + Then to go into the chamber with any ladye + That weares so [rich] attyre.' + + 27. + But when the had supped euery one, + To bedd they tooke the way; + He sayd, 'Come hither, my litle footpage, + Hearken what I doe say! + + 28. + '& goe thee downe into yonder towne, + & low into the street; + The ffarest ladye that thou can find, + Hyer her in mine armes to sleepe, + & take her vp in thine armes two, + For filinge of her ffeete.' + + 29. + Ellen is gone into the towne, + & low into the streete: + The fairest ladye that shee cold find + She hyred in his armes to sleepe, + & tooke her in her armes two, + For filing of her ffeete. + + 30. + 'I pray you now, good Child Waters, + That I may creepe in att your bedds feete, + For there is noe place about this house + Where I may say a sleepe.' + + 31. + This [night] & itt droue on affterward + Till itt was neere the day: + He sayd, 'Rise vp, my litle ffoote page, + & giue my steed corne & hay; + & soe doe thou the good blacke oates, + That he may carry me the better away.' + + 32. + And vp then rose ffaire Ellen, + & gave his steed corne & hay, + & soe shee did and the good blacke oates, + That he might carry him the better away. + + 33. + Shee layned her backe to the manger side, + & greiuouslye did groane; + & that beheard his mother deere, + And heard her make her moane. + + 34. + Shee said, 'Rise vp, thou Child Waters! + I thinke thou art a cursed man; + For yonder is a ghost in thy stable, + That greiuously doth groane, + Or else some woman laboures of child, + Shee is soe woe begone!' + + 35. + But vp then rose Child Waters, + & did on his shirt of silke; + Then he put on his other clothes + On his body as white as milke. + + 36. + & when he came to the stable dore, + Full still that hee did stand, + That hee might heare now faire Ellen, + How shee made her monand. + + 37. + Shee said, 'Lullabye, my owne deere child! + Lullabye, deere child, deere! + I wold thy father were a king, + Thy mother layd on a beere!' + + 38. + 'Peace now,' he said, 'good faire Ellen! + & be of good cheere, I thee pray, + & the bridall & the churching both, + They shall bee vpon one day.' + + + [Annotations: + 2.2: 'see,' protect. So constantly in this phrase. + 18.2: 'yates,' gates. + 18.3: In each case the Folio gives '24' for 'four and twenty.' + 18.4: 'wordlye make,' worldly mate. + 26.6: 'rich' added by Percy. + 28.6: 'For filinge,' to save defiling. + 30.4: 'say,' essay, attempt. + 31.1: 'night.' Child's emendation. Percy read: 'This done, the nighte + drove on apace.' + 32.3: 'and'; Folio _on_. + 36.4: 'monand,' moaning.] + + + + +EARL BRAND, THE DOUGLAS TRAGEDY, and THE CHILD OF ELL + + +There are here put in juxtaposition three versions in ballad-form of the +same story, though fragmentary in the two latter cases, not only because +each is good, but to show the possibilities of variation in a popular +story. There is yet another ballad, _Erlinton_, printed by Sir Walter +Scott in the _Minstrelsy_, embodying an almost identical tale. _Earl +Brand_ preserves most of the features of a very ancient story with more +exactitude than any other traditional ballad. But in this case, as in +too many others, we must turn to a Scandinavian ballad for the complete +form of the story. A Danish ballad, _Ribold and Guldborg_, gives the +fine tale thus:-- + +Ribold, a king's son, in love with Guldborg, offers to carry her away +'to a land where death and sorrow come not, where all the birds are +cuckoos, where all the grass is leeks, where all the streams run with +wine.' Guldborg is willing, but doubts whether she can escape the strict +watch kept over her by her family and by her betrothed lover. Ribold +disguises her in his armour and a cloak, and they ride away. On the moor +they meet an earl, who asks, 'Whither away?' Ribold answers that he is +taking his youngest sister from a cloister. This does not deceive the +earl, nor does a bribe close his mouth; and Guldborg's father, learning +that she is away with Ribold, rides with his sons in pursuit. Ribold +bids Guldborg hold his horse, and prepares to fight; he tells her that, +whatever may chance, she must not call on him by name. Ribold slays her +father and some of her kin and six of her brothers; only her youngest +brother is left: Guldborg cries, 'Ribold, spare him,' that he may carry +tidings to her mother. Immediately Ribold receives a mortal wound. He +ceases fighting, sheathes his sword, and says to her, 'Wilt thou go home +to thy mother again, or wilt thou follow so sad a swain?' And she says +she will follow him. In silence they ride on. 'Why art not thou merry as +before?' asks Guldborg. And Ribold answers, 'Thy brother's sword has +been in my heart.' They reach his house: he calls for one to take his +horse, another to fetch a priest; for his brother shall have Guldborg. +But she refuses. That night dies Ribold, and Guldborg slays herself and +dies in his arms. + +A second and even more dramatic ballad, _Hildebrand and Hilde_, tells a +similar story. + + +A comparison of the above tale with _Earl Brand_ will show a close +agreement in most of the incidents. The chief loss in the English ballad +is the request of Ribold, that Guldborg must not speak his name while he +fights. The very name 'Brand' is doubtless a direct derivative of +'Hildebrand.' Winchester (13.2), as it implies a nunnery, corresponds to +the cloister in the Danish ballad. Earl Brand directs his mother to +marry the King's daughter to his youngest brother; but her refusal, if +she did as Guldborg did, has been lost. + + +_The Douglas Tragedy_, a beautiful but fragmentary version, is, says +Scott, 'one of the few to which popular tradition has ascribed complete +locality.' The ascribed locality, if more complete, is no more probable +than any other: to ascribe any definite locality to a ballad is in all +cases a waste of time and labour. + +_The Child of Ell_, in the Percy Folio, _may_ have contained anything; +but immediately we approach a point where comparison would be of +interest, we meet an _hiatus valde deflendus_. Percy, in the _Reliques_, +expanded the fragment here given to about five times the length. + + +EARL BRAND + +(From +R. Bell's+ _Ancient Poems, Ballads_, etc.) + + 1. + Oh did ye ever hear o' brave Earl Bran'? + _Ay lally, o lilly lally_ + He courted the king's daughter of fair England + _All i' the night sae early_. + + 2. + She was scarcely fifteen years of age + Till sae boldly she came to his bedside. + + 3. + 'O Earl Bran', fain wad I see + A pack of hounds let loose on the lea.' + + 4. + 'O lady, I have no steeds but one, + And thou shalt ride, and I will run.' + + 5. + 'O Earl Bran', my father has two, + And thou shall have the best o' them a'.' + + 6. + They have ridden o'er moss and moor, + And they met neither rich nor poor. + + 7. + Until they met with old Carl Hood; + He comes for ill, but never for good. + + 8. + 'Earl Bran', if ye love me, + Seize this old earl, and gar him die.' + + 9. + 'O lady fair, it wad be sair, + To slay an old man that has grey hair. + + 10. + 'O lady fair, I'll no do sae, + I'll gie him a pound and let him gae.' + + 11. + 'O where hae ye ridden this lee lang day? + O where hae ye stolen this lady away?' + + 12. + 'I have not ridden this lee lang day, + Nor yet have I stolen this lady away. + + 13. + 'She is my only, my sick sister, + Whom I have brought from Winchester.' + + 14. + 'If she be sick, and like to dead, + Why wears she the ribbon sae red? + + 15. + 'If she be sick, and like to die, + Then why wears she the gold on high?' + + 16. + When he came to this lady's gate, + Sae rudely as he rapped at it. + + 17. + 'O where's the lady o' this ha'?' + 'She's out with her maids to play at the ba'.' + + 18. + 'Ha, ha, ha! ye are a' mista'en: + Gae count your maidens o'er again. + + 19. + 'I saw her far beyond the moor + Away to be the Earl o' Bran's whore.' + + 20. + The father armed fifteen of his best men, + To bring his daughter back again. + + 21. + O'er her left shoulder the lady looked then: + 'O Earl Bran', we both are tane.' + + 22. + 'If they come on me ane by ane, + Ye may stand by and see them slain. + + 23. + 'But if they come on me one and all, + Ye may stand by and see me fall.' + + 24. + They have come on him ane by ane, + And he has killed them all but ane. + + 25. + And that ane came behind his back, + And he's gi'en him a deadly whack. + + 26. + But for a' sae wounded as Earl Bran' was, + He has set his lady on her horse. + + 27. + They rode till they came to the water o' Doune, + And then he alighted to wash his wounds. + + 28. + 'O Earl Bran', I see your heart's blood!' + ''Tis but the gleat o' my scarlet hood.' + + 29. + They rode till they came to his mother's gate, + And sae rudely as he rapped at it. + + 30. + 'O my son's slain, my son's put down, + And a' for the sake of an English loun.' + + 31. + 'O say not sae, my dear mother, + But marry her to my youngest brother. + + 32. + 'This has not been the death o' ane, + But it's been that o' fair seventeen.' + + +THE DOUGLAS TRAGEDY + +(From +Scott's+ _Minstrelsy_) + + 1. + 'Rise up, rise up now, Lord Douglas,' she says, + 'And put on your armour so bright; + Let it never be said that a daughter of thine + Was married to a lord under night. + + 2. + 'Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons, + And put on your armour so bright; + And take better care of your youngest sister, + For your eldest's awa' the last night!' + + 3. + He's mounted her on a milk-white steed, + And himself on a dapple grey, + With a bugelet horn hung down by his side, + And lightly they rode away. + + 4. + Lord William lookit o'er his left shoulder, + To see what he could see, + And there he spy'd her seven brethren bold + Come riding over the lee. + + 5. + 'Light down, light down, Lady Margret,' he said, + 'And hold my steed in your hand, + Until that against your seven brethren bold, + And your father, I mak' a stand.' + + 6. + She held his steed in her milk-white hand, + And never shed one tear, + Until that she saw her seven brethren fa', + And her father hard fighting, who lov'd her so dear. + + 7. + 'O hold your hand, Lord William!' she said, + 'For your strokes they are wondrous sair; + True lovers I can get many a ane, + But a father I can never get mair.' + + 8. + O she's ta'en out her handkerchief, + It was o' the holland sae fine, + And aye she dighted her father's bloody wounds, + That were redder than the wine. + + 9. + 'O chuse, O chuse, Lady Margret,' he said, + 'O whether will ye gang or bide?' + 'I'll gang, I'll gang, Lord William,' she said, + 'For ye have left me no other guide.' + + 10. + He's lifted her on a milk-white steed, + And himself on a dapple grey, + With a bugelet horn hung down by his side, + And slowly they baith rade away. + + 11. + O they rade on, and on they rade, + And a' by the light of the moon, + Until they came to yon wan water, + And there they lighted down. + + 12. + They lighted down to tak' a drink + Of the spring that ran sae clear: + And down the stream ran his gude heart's blood, + And sair she gan to fear. + + 13. + 'Hold up, hold up, Lord William,' she says, + 'For I fear that you are slain!' + ''Tis naething but the shadow of my scarlet cloak, + That shines in the water sae plain.' + + 14. + O they rade on, and on they rade, + And a' by the light of the moon, + Until they cam' to his mother's ha' door, + And there they lighted down. + + 15. + 'Get up, get up, lady mother,' he says, + 'Get up, and let me in! + Get up, get up, lady mother,' he says, + 'For this night my fair ladye I've win. + + 16. + 'O mak' my bed, lady mother,' he says, + 'O mak' it braid and deep, + And lay Lady Margret close at my back, + And the sounder I will sleep.' + + 17. + Lord William was dead lang ere midnight, + Lady Margret lang ere day, + And all true lovers that go thegither, + May they have mair luck than they! + + 18. + Lord William was buried in St. Mary's kirk, + Lady Margret in Mary's quire; + Out o' the lady's grave grew a bonny red rose, + And out o' the knight's a briar. + + 19. + And they twa met, and they twa plat, + And fain they wad be near; + And a' the warld might ken right weel, + They were twa lovers dear. + + 20. + But bye and rade the Black Douglas, + And wow but he was rough! + For he pull'd up the bonny brier, + And flang't in St. Mary's Loch. + + + [Annotations: + 8.3: 'dighted,' dressed.] + + +THE CHILD OF ELL + + (_Fragment: from the Percy Folio_) + + 1. + ... ... ... + ... ... ... + Sayes, 'Christ thee saue, good child of Ell, + Christ saue thee & thy steede! + + 2. + 'My father sayes he will noe meate, + Nor his drinke shall doe him noe good, + Till he haue slaine the child of Ell, + & haue seene his hart's blood.' + + 3. + 'I wold I were in my sadle sett, + & a mile out of the towne, + I did not care for your father + & all his merrymen. + + 4. + 'I wold I were in my sadle sett + & a litle space him froe, + I did not care for your father + & all that long him to!' + + 5. + He leaned ore his saddle bow, + To kisse this lady good; + The teares that went them 2 betweene + Were blend water & blood. + + 6. + He sett himselfe on one good steed, + This lady on one palfray, + & sett his litle horne to his mouth, + & roundlie he rode away. + + 7. + He had not ridden past a mile, + A mile out of the towne, + Her father was readye with her 7 brether, + He said, 'Sett thou my daughter downe! + For it ill beseemes thee, thou false churles sonne, + To carry her forth of this towne!' + + 8. + 'But lowd thou lyest, Sir Iohn the Knight, + Thou now doest lye of me; + A knight me gott, & a lady me bore; + Soe neuer did none by thee. + + 9. + 'But light now downe, my lady gay, + Light downe & hold my horsse, + Whilest I & your father & your brether + Doe play vs at this crosse. + + 10. + 'But light now downe, my owne trew loue, + & meeklye hold my steede, + Whilest your father [and your brether] bold + ... ... ... + + + [Annotations: + 1.3: The maiden is speaking. + 5.4: 'blend,' blended, mixed. + 6.2: 'on': the MS. gives 'of.' + 10.3: The rest (about nine stt.) is missing.] + + + + +LORD THOMAS AND FAIR ANNET + + ++The Text+ is from Percy's _Reliques_ (vol. ii., 1765: vol. iii., 1767). +In the latter edition he also gives the English version of the ballad +earlier in the same volume. + ++The Story.+--This ballad, as it is one of the most beautiful, is also +one of the most popular. It should be compared with _Fair Margaret and +Sweet William_, in which the forlorn maid dies of grief, not by the hand +of her rival. + + A series of Norse ballads tell much the same tale, but in none is the +'friends' will' a crucial point. Chansons from Burgundy, Bretagne, +Provence, and northern Italy, faintly echo the story. + + Lord Thomas his mither says that Fair Annet has no 'gowd and gear'; +yet later on we find that Annet's father can provide her with a horse +shod with silver and gold, and four-and-twenty silver bells in his mane; +she is attended by a large company, her cleading skinkles, and her belt +is of pearl. + + +LORD THOMAS AND FAIR ANNET + + 1. + Lord Thomas and Fair Annet + Sate a' day on a hill; + Whan night was cum, and sun was sett, + They had not talkt their fill. + + 2. + Lord Thomas said a word in jest, + Fair Annet took it ill: + 'A, I will nevir wed a wife + Against my ain friends' will.' + + 3. + 'Gif ye wull nevir wed a wife, + A wife wull neir wed yee': + Sae he is hame to tell his mither, + And knelt upon his knee. + + 4. + 'O rede, O rede, mither,' he says, + 'A gude rede gie to mee: + O sall I tak the nut-browne bride, + And let Faire Annet bee?' + + 5. + 'The nut-browne bride haes gowd and gear, + Fair Annet she has gat nane; + And the little beauty Fair Annet haes, + O it wull soon be gane.' + + 6. + And he has till his brother gane: + 'Now, brother, rede ye mee; + A, sall I marrie the nut-browne bride, + And let Fair Annet bee?' + + 7. + 'The nut-browne bride has oxen, brother, + The nut-browne bride has kye: + I wad hae ye marrie the nut-browne bride, + And cast Fair Annet bye.' + + 8. + 'Her oxen may dye i' the house, billie, + And her kye into the byre, + And I sall hae nothing to mysell + Bot a fat fadge by the fyre.' + + 9. + And he has till his sister gane: + 'Now sister, rede ye mee; + O sall I marrie the nut-browne bride, + And set Fair Annet free?' + + 10. + 'I'se rede ye tak Fair Annet, Thomas, + And let the browne bride alane; + Lest ye sould sigh, and say, Alace, + What is this we brought hame!' + + 11. + 'No, I will tak my mither's counsel, + And marrie me owt o' hand; + And I will tak the nut-browne bride; + Fair Annet may leive the land.' + + 12. + Up then rose Fair Annet's father, + Twa hours or it wer day, + And he is gane into the bower + Wherein Fair Annet lay. + + 13. + 'Rise up, rise up, Fair Annet,' he says, + 'Put on your silken sheene; + Let us gae to St. Marie's kirke, + And see that rich weddeen.' + + 14. + 'My maides, gae to my dressing-roome, + And dress to me my hair; + Whaireir yee laid a plait before, + See yee lay ten times mair. + + 15. + 'My maides, gae to my dressing-room, + And dress to me my smock; + The one half is o' the holland fine, + The other o' needle-work.' + + 16. + The horse Fair Annet rade upon, + He amblit like the wind; + Wi' siller he was shod before, + Wi' burning gowd behind. + + 17. + Four and twanty siller bells + Wer a' tyed till his mane, + And yae tift o' the norland wind, + They tinkled ane by ane. + + 18. + Four and twanty gay gude knichts + Rade by Fair Annet's side, + And four and twanty fair ladies, + As gin she had bin a bride. + + 19. + And whan she cam to Marie's kirk, + She sat on Marie's stean: + The cleading that Fair Annet had on + It skinkled in their een. + + 20. + And whan she cam into the kirk, + She shimmered like the sun; + The belt that was about her waist, + Was a' wi' pearles bedone. + + 21. + She sat her by the nut-browne bride, + And her een they wer sae clear, + Lord Thomas he clean forgat the bride, + Whan Fair Annet drew near. + + 22. + He had a rose into his hand, + He gae it kisses three, + And reaching by the nut-browne bride, + Laid it on Fair Annet's knee. + + 23. + Up than spak the nut-browne bride, + She spak wi' meikle spite: + 'And whair gat ye that rose-water, + That does mak yee sae white?' + + 24. + 'O I did get the rose-water + Whair ye wull neir get nane, + For I did get that very rose-water + Into my mither's wame.' + + 25. + The bride she drew a long bodkin + Frae out her gay head-gear, + And strake Fair Annet unto the heart, + That word spak nevir mair. + + 26. + Lord Thomas he saw Fair Annet wex pale, + And marvelit what mote bee; + But whan he saw her dear heart's blude, + A' wood-wroth wexed hee. + + 27. + He drew his dagger, that was sae sharp, + That was sae sharp and meet, + And drave it into the nut-browne bride, + That fell deid at his feit. + + 28. + 'Now stay for me, dear Annet,' he sed, + 'Now stay, my dear,' he cry'd; + Then strake the dagger untill his heart, + And fell deid by her side. + + 29. + Lord Thomas was buried without kirk-wa', + Fair Annet within the quiere, + And o' the tane thair grew a birk, + The other a bonny briere. + + 30. + And ay they grew, and ay they threw, + As they wad faine be neare; + And by this ye may ken right weil + They were twa luvers deare. + + + [Annotations: + 4.1: 'rede,' advise. + 4.3: 'nut-browne' here = dusky, not fair; cp.:-- + 'In the old age black was not counted fair.' + --Shakespeare, _Sonnet_ CXXVII. + 8.4: 'fadge,' _lit._ a thick cake; here figuratively for the thick-set + 'nut-browne bride.' + 17.3: 'yae tift,' [at] every puff. + 19.2: 'stean,' stone. + 19.3: 'cleading,' clothing. + 19.4: 'skinkled,' glittered. + 24.3,4: _i.e._ I was born fair. + 26.4: 'wood-wroth,' raging mad. + 29, 30: This conclusion to a tragic tale of true-love is common to + many ballads; see _Fair Margaret and Sweet William_ and especially + _Lord Lovel_. + 30.1: 'threw,' intertwined.] + + + + +THE BROWN GIRL + + ++The Text+ of this ballad was taken down before the end of the +nineteenth century by the Rev. S. Baring Gould, from a blacksmith at +Thrushleton, Devon. + ++The Story+ is a simple little tale which recalls _Barbara Allen_, +_Clerk Sanders_, _Lord Thomas and Fair Annet_, and others. I have placed +it here for contrast, and in illustration of the disdain of 'brown' +maids. + + +THE BROWN GIRL + + 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 overpass'd, + Were overpass'd and gone, + Then did my lover, once so bold, + Lie on his bed and groan. + + 6. + 'When that six months were overpass'd, + Were gone and overpass'd, + O 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 ne'er 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 you 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. + + 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 all 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; + O 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; + I'll dance above your green, green grave + Where you do lie beneath.' + + + + +FAIR MARGARET AND SWEET WILLIAM + + ++The Text+ is from a broadside in the Douce Ballads, with a few +unimportant corrections from other stall-copies, as printed by Percy +and Ritson. + ++The Story+ is much the same as _Lord Thomas and Fair Annet_, except in +the manner of Margaret's death. + + None of the known copies of the ballad are as early in date as _The +Knight of the Burning Pestle_ (a play by Beaumont and Fletcher, first +produced, it is said, in 1611), in which the humorous old Merrythought +sings two fragments of this ballad; stanza 5 in Act II. Sc. 8, and the +first two lines of stanza 2 in Act III. Sc. 5. As there given, the lines +are slightly different. + + The last four stanzas of this ballad again present the stock ending, +for which see the introduction to _Lord Lovel_. The last stanza condemns +itself. + + +FAIR MARGARET AND SWEET WILLIAM + + 1. + As it fell out on a long summer's day, + Two lovers they sat on a hill; + They sat together that long summer's day, + And could not talk their fill. + + 2. + 'I see no harm by you, Margaret, + Nor you see none by me; + Before tomorrow eight a clock + A rich wedding shall you see.' + + 3. + Fair Margaret sat in her bower-window, + A combing of her hair, + And there she spy'd Sweet William and his bride, + As they were riding near. + + 4. + Down she lay'd her ivory comb, + And up she bound her hair; + She went her way forth of her bower, + But never more did come there. + + 5. + When day was gone, and night was come, + And all men fast asleep, + Then came the spirit of Fair Margaret, + And stood at William's feet. + + 6. + 'God give you joy, you two true lovers, + In bride-bed fast asleep; + Loe I am going to my green grass grave, + And am in my winding-sheet.' + + 7. + When day was come, and night was gone, + And all men wak'd from sleep, + Sweet William to his lady said, + 'My dear, I have cause to weep. + + 8. + 'I dream'd a dream, my dear lady; + Such dreams are never good; + I dream'd my bower was full of red swine, + And my bride-bed full of blood.' + + 9. + 'Such dreams, such dreams, my honoured lord, + They never do prove good, + To dream thy bower was full of swine, + And thy bride-bed full of blood.' + + 10. + He called up his merry men all, + By one, by two, and by three, + Saying, 'I'll away to Fair Margaret's bower, + By the leave of my lady.' + + 11. + And when he came to Fair Margaret's bower, + He knocked at the ring; + So ready was her seven brethren + To let Sweet William in. + + 12. + He turned up the covering-sheet: + 'Pray let me see the dead; + Methinks she does look pale and wan, + She has lost her cherry red. + + 13. + 'I'll do more for thee, Margaret, + Than any of thy kin; + For I will kiss thy pale wan lips, + Tho' a smile I cannot win.' + + 14. + With that bespeak her seven brethren, + Making most pitious moan: + 'You may go kiss your jolly brown bride, + And let our sister alone.' + + 15. + 'If I do kiss my jolly brown bride, + I do but what is right; + For I made no vow to your sister dear, + By day or yet by night. + + 16. + 'Pray tell me then how much you'll deal + Of your white bread and your wine; + So much as is dealt at her funeral today + Tomorrow shall be dealt at mine.' + + 17. + Fair Margaret dy'd today, today, + Sweet William he dy'd the morrow; + Fair Margaret dy'd for pure true love, + Sweet William he dy'd for sorrow. + + 18. + Margaret was buried in the lower chancel, + Sweet William in the higher; + Out of her breast there sprung a rose, + And out of his a brier. + + 19. + They grew as high as the church-top, + Till they could grow no higher, + And then they grew in a true lover's knot, + Which made all people admire. + + 20. + There came the clerk of the parish, + As you this truth shall hear, + And by misfortune cut them down, + Or they had now been there. + + + + +LORD LOVEL + + + 'It is silly sooth, + And dallies with the innocence of love, + Like the old age.' + + --_Twelfth Night_, II. 4. + + ++The Text.+--This ballad, concluding a small class of three--_Lord +Thomas and Fair Annet_, and _Fair Margaret and Sweet William_ being the +other two--is distinguished by the fact that the lady dies of hope +deferred. It is a foolish ballad, at the opposite pole to _Lord Thomas +and Fair Annet_, and is pre-eminently one of the class meant only to be +sung, with an effective burden. The text given here, therefore, is that +of a broadside of the year 1846. + ++The Story+ in outline is extremely popular in German and Scandinavian +literature. Of the former the commonest is _Der Ritter und die Maid_, +also found north of Germany; twenty-six different versions in all, in +some of which lilies spring from the grave. In a Swedish ballad a +linden-tree grows out of their bodies; in Danish ballads, roses, lilies, +or lindens. This conclusion, a commonplace in folk-song, occurs also in +a class of Romaic ballads, where a clump of reeds rises from one of the +lovers, and a cypress or lemon-tree from the other, which bend to each +other and mingle their leaves whenever the wind blows. Classical readers +will recall the tale of Philemon and Baucis. + +For further information on this subject, consult the special section of +the Introduction. + +Various other versions of this ballad are named _Lady Ouncebell_, _Lord +Lavel_, _Lord Travell_, and _Lord Revel_. + + +LORD LOVEL + + 1. + Lord Lovel he stood at his castle-gate, + Combing his milk-white steed, + When up came Lady Nancy Belle, + To wish her lover good speed, speed, + To wish her lover good speed. + + 2. + 'Where are you going, Lord Lovel?' she said, + 'Oh where are you going?' said she; + 'I'm going, my Lady Nancy Belle, + Strange countries for to see.' + + 3. + 'When will you be back, Lord Lovel?' she said, + 'Oh when will you come back?' said she; + 'In a year, or two, or three at the most, + I'll return to my fair Nancy.' + + 4. + But he had not been gone a year and a day, + Strange countries for to see, + When languishing thoughts came into his head, + Lady Nancy Belle he would go see. + + 5. + So he rode, and he rode, on his milk-white steed, + Till he came to London town, + And there he heard St. Pancras' bells, + And the people all mourning round. + + 6. + 'Oh what is the matter?' Lord Lovel he said, + 'Oh what is the matter?' said he; + 'A lord's lady is dead,' a woman replied, + 'And some call her Lady Nancy.' + + 7. + So he ordered the grave to be opened wide, + And the shroud he turned down, + And there he kissed her clay-cold lips, + Till the tears came trickling down. + + 8. + Lady Nancy she died, as it might be, today, + Lord Lovel he died as tomorrow; + Lady Nancy she died out of pure, pure grief, + Lord Lovel he died out of sorrow. + + 9. + Lady Nancy was laid in St. Pancras' Church, + Lord Lovel was laid in the choir; + And out of her bosom there grew a red rose, + And out of her lover's a briar. + + 10. + They grew, and they grew, to the church-steeple too, + And then they could grow no higher; + So there they entwined in a true-lovers' knot, + For all lovers true to admire. + + 1.4,5: A similar repetition of the last line of each verse makes the + refrain throughout. + 10.1: Perhaps a misprint for 'church-steeple top.'--+Child+. + + + + +LADY MAISRY + + ++The Text.+--From the Jamieson-Brown MS. All the other variants agree as +to the main outline of the ballad. + ++The Story.+--Lady Maisry, refusing the young lords of the north +country, and saying that her love is given to an English lord, is +suspected by her father's kitchy-boy, who goes to tell her brother. He +charges her with her fault, reviles her for 'drawing up with an English +lord,' and commands her to renounce him. She refuses, and is condemned +to be burned. A bonny boy bears news of her plight to Lord William, who +leaps to boot and saddle; but he arrives too late to save her, though he +vows vengeance on all her kin, and promises to burn himself last of all. + +Burning was the penalty usually allotted in the romances to a girl +convicted of unchastity. + + +LADY MAISRY + + 1. + The young lords o' the north country + Have all a wooing gone, + To win the love of Lady Maisry, + But o' them she woud hae none. + + 2. + O they hae courted Lady Maisry + Wi' a' kin kind of things; + An' they hae sought her Lady Maisry + Wi' brotches an' wi' rings. + + 3. + An' they ha' sought her Lady Maisry + Frae father and frae mother; + An' they ha' sought her Lady Maisry + Frae sister an' frae brother. + + 4. + An' they ha' follow'd her Lady Maisry + Thro' chamber an' thro' ha'; + But a' that they coud say to her, + Her answer still was Na. + + 5. + 'O ha'd your tongues, young men,' she says, + 'An' think nae mair o' me; + For I've gi'en my love to an English lord, + An' think nae mair o' me.' + + 6. + Her father's kitchy-boy heard that, + An ill death may he dee! + An' he is on to her brother, + As fast as gang coud he. + + 7. + 'O is my father an' my mother well, + But an' my brothers three? + Gin my sister Lady Maisry be well, + There's naething can ail me.' + + 8. + 'Your father an' your mother is well, + But an' your brothers three; + Your sister Lady Maisry's well, + So big wi' bairn gangs she.' + + 9. + 'Gin this be true you tell to me, + My mailison light on thee! + But gin it be a lie you tell, + You sal be hangit hie.' + + 10. + He's done him to his sister's bow'r, + Wi' meikle doole an' care; + An' there he saw her Lady Maisry + Kembing her yallow hair. + + 11. + 'O wha is aught that bairn,' he says, + 'That ye sae big are wi'? + And gin ye winna own the truth, + This moment ye sall dee.' + + 12. + She turn'd her right and roun' about, + An' the kem fell frae her han'; + A trembling seiz'd her fair body, + An' her rosy cheek grew wan. + + 13. + 'O pardon me, my brother dear, + An' the truth I'll tell to thee; + My bairn it is to Lord William, + An' he is betroth'd to me.' + + 14. + 'O coud na ye gotten dukes, or lords, + Intill your ain country, + That ye draw up wi' an English dog, + To bring this shame on me? + + 15. + 'But ye maun gi' up the English lord, + Whan youre young babe is born; + For, gin you keep by him an hour langer, + Your life sall be forlorn.' + + 16. + 'I will gi' up this English blood, + Till my young babe be born; + But the never a day nor hour langer, + Tho' my life should be forlorn.' + + + 17. + 'O whare is a' my merry young men, + Whom I gi' meat and fee, + To pu' the thistle and the thorn, + To burn this wile whore wi'?' + + 18. + 'O whare will I get a bonny boy, + To help me in my need, + To rin wi' hast to Lord William, + And bid him come wi' speed?' + + 19. + O out it spake a bonny boy, + Stood by her brother's side: + 'O I would run your errand, lady, + O'er a' the world wide. + + 20. + 'Aft have I run your errands, lady, + Whan blawn baith win' and weet; + But now I'll rin your errand, lady, + Wi' sa't tears on my cheek.' + + 21. + O whan he came to broken briggs, + He bent his bow and swam, + An' whan he came to the green grass growin', + He slack'd his shoone and ran. + + 22. + O whan he came to Lord William's gates, + He baed na to chap or ca', + But set his bent bow till his breast, + An' lightly lap the wa'; + An', or the porter was at the gate, + The boy was i' the ha'. + + 23. + 'O is my biggins broken, boy? + Or is my towers won? + Or is my lady lighter yet, + Of a dear daughter or son?' + + 24. + 'Your biggin is na broken, sir, + Nor is your towers won; + But the fairest lady in a' the lan' + For you this day maun burn.' + + 25. + 'O saddle me the black, the black, + Or saddle me the brown; + O saddle me the swiftest steed + That ever rade frae a town.' + + 26. + Or he was near a mile awa', + She heard his wild horse sneeze: + 'Mend up the fire, my false brother, + It's na come to my knees.' + + 27. + O whan he lighted at the gate, + She heard his bridle ring; + 'Mend up the fire, my false brother, + It's far yet frae my chin. + + 28. + 'Mend up the fire to me, brother, + Mend up the fire to me; + For I see him comin' hard an' fast, + Will soon men' 't up to thee. + + 29. + 'O gin my hands had been loose, Willy, + Sae hard as they are boun', + I would have turn'd me frae the gleed, + And castin out your young son.' + + 30. + 'O I'll gar burn for you, Maisry, + Your father an' your mother; + An' I'll gar burn for you, Maisry, + Your sister an' your brother. + + 31. + 'An' I'll gar burn for you, Maisry, + The chief of a' your kin; + An' the last bonfire that I come to, + Mysel' I will cast in.' + + + [Annotations: + 5.1: 'ha'd' = _haud_, hold. + 9.2: 'mailison,' curse. + 11.1: 'is aught,' owns. + 15.4: 'forlorn,' forfeit. + 20.2: _i.e._ in driving wind and rain. + 21: A stock ballad-stanza. + 22.2: 'baed,' stayed; 'chap,' knock. + 22.4: 'lap,' leapt. + 23.1: 'biggins,' buildings. + 29.3: 'gleed,' burning coal, fire. + 30.1: 'gar,' make, cause.] + + + [Illustration] + + + + +THE CRUEL BROTHER + + ++The Text+ is that obtained in 1800 by Alexander Fraser Tytler from Mrs. +Brown of Falkland, and by him committed to writing. The first ten and +the last two stanzas show corruption, but the rest of the ballad is in +the best style. + ++The Story+ emphasises the necessity of asking the consent of a brother +to the marriage of his sister, and therefore the title _The Cruel +Brother_ is a misnomer. In ballad-times, the brother would have been +well within his rights; it was rather a fatal oversight of the +bridegroom that caused the tragedy. + +Danish and German ballads echo the story, though in the commonest German +ballad, _Graf Friedrich_, the bride receives an _accidental_ wound, and +that from the bridegroom's own hand. + +The testament of the bride, by which she benefits her friends and leaves +curses on her enemies, is very characteristic of the ballad-style, and +is found in other ballads, as _Lord Ronald_ and _Edward, Edward_. In the +present case, 'sister Grace' obtains what would seem to be a very +doubtful benefit. + + +THE CRUEL BROTHER + + 1. + There was three ladies play'd at the ba', + _With a hey ho and a lillie gay_ + There came a knight and played o'er them a', + _As the primrose spreads so sweetly_. + + 2. + The eldest was baith tall and fair, + But the youngest was beyond compare. + + 3. + The midmost had a graceful mien, + But the youngest look'd like beautie's queen. + + 4. + The knight bow'd low to a' the three, + But to the youngest he bent his knee. + + 5. + The ladie turned her head aside; + The knight he woo'd her to be his bride. + + 6. + The ladie blush'd a rosy red, + And say'd, 'Sir knight, I'm too young to wed.' + + 7. + 'O ladie fair, give me your hand, + And I'll make you ladie of a' my land.' + + 8. + 'Sir knight, ere ye my favour win, + You maun get consent frae a' my kin.' + + 9. + He's got consent frae her parents dear, + And likewise frae her sisters fair. + + 10. + He's got consent frae her kin each one, + But forgot to spiek to her brother John. + + 11. + Now, when the wedding day was come, + The knight would take his bonny bride home. + + 12. + And many a lord and many a knight + Came to behold that ladie bright. + + 13. + And there was nae man that did her see, + But wish'd himself bridegroom to be. + + 14. + Her father dear led her down the stair, + And her sisters twain they kiss'd her there. + + 15. + Her mother dear led her thro' the closs, + And her brother John set her on her horse. + + 16. + She lean'd her o'er the saddle-bow, + To give him a kiss ere she did go. + + 17. + He has ta'en a knife, baith lang and sharp, + And stabb'd that bonny bride to the heart. + + 18. + She hadno ridden half thro' the town, + Until her heart's blude stain'd her gown. + + 19. + 'Ride softly on,' says the best young man, + 'For I think our bonny bride looks pale and wan.' + + 20. + 'O lead me gently up yon hill, + And I'll there sit down, and make my will.' + + 21. + 'O what will you leave to your father dear?' + 'The silver-shod steed that brought me here.' + + 22. + 'What will you leave to your mother dear?' + 'My velvet pall and my silken gear.' + + 23. + 'What will you leave to your sister Anne?' + 'My silken scarf and my gowden fan.' + + 24. + 'What will you leave to your sister Grace?' + 'My bloody cloaths to wash and dress.' + + 25. + 'What will you leave to your brother John?' + 'The gallows-tree to hang him on.' + + 26. + 'What will you leave to your brother John's wife?' + 'The wilderness to end her life.' + + 27. + This ladie fair in her grave was laid, + And many a mass was o'er her said. + + 28. + But it would have made your heart right sair, + To see the bridegroom rive his hair. + + 1.2,4: It should be remembered that the refrain is supposed to be + sung with each verse, here and elsewhere. + 15.1: 'closs,' close. + 28.2: 'rive,' tear. + + + + +THE NUTBROWN MAID + + ++The Text+ is from Arnold's _Chronicle_, of the edition which, from +typographical evidence, is said to have been printed at Antwerp in 1502 +by John Doesborowe. Each stanza is there printed in six long lines. +Considerable variations appear in later editions. There is also a +Balliol MS. (354), which contains a contemporary version, and the Percy +Folio contains a corrupt version. + +This should not be considered as a ballad proper; it is rather a +'dramatic lyric.' Its history, however, is quite as curious as that of +many ballads. It occurs, as stated above, in the farrago known as the +_Chronicle_ of Richard Arnold, inserted between a list of the 'tolls' +due on merchandise entering or leaving the port of Antwerp, and a table +giving Flemish weights and moneys in terms of the corresponding English +measures. Why such a poem should be printed in such incongruous +surroundings, what its date or who its author was, are questions +impossible to determine. Its position here is perhaps almost as +incongruous as in its original place. + +From 3.9 to the end of the last verse but one, it is a dialogue between +an earl's son and a baron's daughter, in alternate stanzas; a prologue +and an epilogue are added by the author. + +Matthew Prior printed the poem in his works, in order to contrast it +with his own version, _Henry and Emma_, which appealed to contemporary +taste as more elegant than its rude original. + + +THE NUTBROWN MAID + + 1. + Be it right, or wrong, these men among + On women do complaine; + Affermyng this, how that it is + A labour spent in vaine, + To loue them wele; for neuer a dele, + They loue a man agayne; + For lete a man do what he can, + Ther fouour to attayne, + Yet, yf a newe to them pursue, + Ther furst trew louer than + Laboureth for nought; and from her though[t] + He is a bannisshed man. + + 2. + I say not nay, bat that all day + It is bothe writ and sayde + That womans fayth is as who saythe + All utterly decayed; + But neutheles, right good wytnes + In this case might be layde; + That they loue trewe, and contynew, + Recorde the Nutbrowne maide: + Which from her loue, whan, her to proue, + He cam to make his mone, + Wolde not departe, for in her herte, + She louyd but hym allone. + + 3. + Than betwene us lete us discusse, + What was all the maner + Betwene them too; we wyll also + Tell all they payne in fere, + That she was in; now I begynne, + Soo that ye me answere; + Wherfore, ye, that present be + I pray you geue an eare. + I am the knyght; I cum be nyght, + As secret as I can; + Sayng, alas! thus stondyth the cause, + I am a bannisshed man. + + 4. + And I your wylle for to fulfylle + In this wyl not refuse; + Trusting to shewe, in wordis fewe, + That men haue an ille use + To ther owne shame wymen to blame, + And causeles them accuse; + Therfore to you I answere nowe, + All wymen to excuse,-- + Myn owne hert dere, with you what chiere? + I prey you, tell anoon; + For, in my mynde, of all mankynde + I loue but you allon. + + 5. + It stondith so; a dede is do, + Wherfore moche harme shal growe; + My desteny is for to dey + A shamful dethe, I trowe; + Or ellis to flee: the ton must bee. + None other wey I knowe, + But to withdrawe as an outlaw, + And take me to my bowe. + Wherefore, adew, my owne hert trewe, + None other red I can: + For I muste to the grene wode goo, + Alone a bannysshed man. + + 6. + O Lorde, what is this worldis blisse, + That chaungeth as the mone! + My somers day in lusty may + Is derked before the none. + I here you saye farwel: nay, nay, + We depart not soo sone. + Why say ye so? wheder wyll ye goo? + Alas! what haue ye done? + Alle my welfare to sorow and care + Shulde chaunge, yf ye were gon; + For, in [my] mynde, of all mankynde + I loue but you alone. + + 7. + I can beleue, it shal you greue, + And somwhat you distrayne; + But, aftyrwarde, your paynes harde + Within a day or tweyne + Shall sone aslake; and ye shall take + Comfort to you agayne. + Why shuld ye nought? for, to make thought, + Your labur were in vayne. + And thus I do; and pray you, loo, + As hertely as I can; + For I must too the grene wode goo, + Alone a banysshed man. + + 8. + Now, syth that ye haue shewed to me + The secret of your mynde, + I shalbe playne to you agayne, + Lyke as ye shal me fynde. + Syth it is so, that ye wyll goo, + I wol not leue behynde; + Shall neuer be sayd, the Nutbrowne mayd, + Was to her loue unkind: + Make you redy, for soo am I, + All though it were anoon; + For, in my mynde, of all mankynde + I loue but you alone. + + 9. + Yet I you rede take good hede + Whan men wyl thynke, and sey; + Of yonge, and olde, it shalbe tolde, + That ye be gone away, + Your wanton wylle for to fulfylle, + In grene wood you to play; + And that ye myght from your delyte + Noo lenger make delay: + Rather than ye shuld thus for me + Be called an ylle woman, + Yet wolde I to the grene wodde goo, + Alone a banyshed man. + + 10. + Though it be songe of olde and yonge, + That I shuld be to blame, + Theirs be the charge, that speke so large + In hurting of my name: + For I wyl proue that feythful loue + It is deuoyd of shame; + In your distresse and heuynesse, + To parte wyth you, the same: + And sure all thoo, that doo not so, + Trewe louers ar they noon; + But, in my mynde, of all mankynde + I loue but you alone. + + 11. + I councel yow, remembre howe + It is noo maydens lawe, + Nothing to dought, but to renne out + To wod with an outlawe; + For ye must there in your hande bere + A bowe to bere and drawe; + And, as a theef, thus must ye lyeue, + Euer in drede and awe, + By whiche to yow gret harme myght grow: + Yet had I leuer than, + That I had too the grenewod goo, + Alone a banysshyd man. + + 12. + I thinke not nay, but as ye saye, + It is noo maydens lore: + But loue may make me for your sake, + As ye haue said before + To com on fote, to hunte, and shote, + To gete us mete and store; + For soo that I your company + May haue, I aske noo more: + From whiche to parte, it makith myn herte + As colde as ony ston; + For, in my mynde, of all mankynde + I loue but you alone. + + 13. + For an outlawe, this is the lawe, + That men hym take and binde; + Wythout pytee hanged to bee, + And wauer with the wynde. + Yf I had neede, (as God forbede!) + What rescous coude ye finde? + Forsothe, I trowe, you and your bowe + Shuld drawe for fere behynde: + And noo merueyle; for lytel auayle + Were in your councel than: + Wherfore I too the woode wyl goo + Alone a banysshd man. + + 14. + Ful wel knowe ye, that wymen bee + Ful febyl for to fyght; + Noo womanhed is it in deede + To bee bolde as a knight: + Yet, in suche fere, yf that ye were + Amonge enemys day and nyght, + I wolde wythstonde, with bowe in hande, + To greue them as I myght, + And you to saue; as wymen haue + From deth many one: + For, in my mynde, of all mankynde + I loue but you alone. + + 15. + Yet take good hede, for euer I drede + That ye coude not sustein + The thorney wayes, the depe valeis, + The snowe, the frost, the reyn, + The colde, the hete: for drye, or wete, + We must lodge on the playn; + And, us abowe, noon other roue + But a brake bussh or twayne: + Which sone shulde greue you, I beleue; + And ye wolde gladly than + That I had too the grenewode goo, + Alone a banysshyd man. + + 16. + Syth I haue here ben partynere + With you of joy and blysse, + I must also parte of your woo + Endure, as reason is: + Yet am I sure of oon plesure; + And, shortly, it is this: + That, where ye bee, me semeth, perde, + I coude not fare amysse, + Wythout more speche, I you beseche + That we were soon agone; + For, in my mynde, of all mankynde, + I loue but you alone. + + 17. + Yef ye goo thedyr, ye must consider, + Whan ye haue lust to dyne + Ther shal no mete before to gete, + Nor drinke, beer, ale, ne wine; + Ne shetis clene, to lye betwene, + Made of thred and twyne; + Noon other house but leuys and bowes + To keuer your hed and myn, + Loo, myn herte swete, this ylle dyet + Shuld make you pale and wan; + Wherfore I to the wood wyl goo, + Alone, a banysshid man. + + 18. + Amonge the wylde dere, suche an archier, + As men say that ye bee, + Ne may not fayle of good vitayle + Where is so grete plente: + And watir cleere of the ryuere + Shalbe ful swete to me; + Wyth whiche in hele I shal right wele + Endure, as ye shal see; + And, or we goo, a bed or twoo + I can prouide anoon; + For, in my mynde, of all mankynde + I loue but you alone. + + 19. + Loo, yet before ye must doo more, + Yf ye wyl goo with me; + As cutte your here up by your ere, + Your kirtel by the knee; + Wyth bowe in hande, for to withstonde + Your enmys, yf nede bee: + And this same nyght before daylyght, + To woodwarde wyl I flee. + And ye wyl all this fulfylle, + Doo it shortely as ye can: + Ellis wil I to the grenewode goo, + Alone, a banysshyd man. + + 20. + I shal as now do more for you + That longeth to womanhed; + To short my here, a bowe to bere, + To shote in tyme of nede. + O my swete mod[er], before all other + For you haue I most drede: + But now, adiew! I must ensue + Wher fortune duth me leede. + All this make ye: now lete us flee; + The day cum fast upon; + For, in my mynde, of all mankynde + I loue but you alone. + + 21. + Nay, nay, not soo; ye shal not goo, + And I shal telle you why,-- + Your appetyte is to be lyght + Of loue, I wele aspie: + For, right as ye haue sayd to me, + In lyke wyse hardely + Ye wolde answere who so euer it were, + In way of company. + It is sayd of olde, sone hote, sone colde; + And so is a woman. + Wherfore I too the woode wly goo, + Alone, a banysshid man. + + 22. + Yef ye take hede, yet is noo nede + Suche wordis to say by me; + For ofte ye preyd, and longe assayed, + Or I you louid, parde: + And though that I of auncestry + A barons doughter bee, + Yet haue you proued how I you loued + A squyer of lowe degree; + And euer shal, whatso befalle-- + To dey therfore anoon; + For, in my mynde, of al mankynde + I loue but you alone. + + 23. + A barons childe to be begyled, + It were a curssed dede; + To be felow with an outlawe, + Almyghty God forbede. + Yet bettyr were the power squyere + Alone to forest yede, + Than ye shal saye another day, + That, be [my] wyked dede, + Ye were betrayed: wherfore, good maide, + The best red that I can, + Is, that I too the grenewode goo, + Alone, a banysshed man. + + 24. + Whatso euer befalle, I neuer shal + Of this thing you upbrayd: + But yf ye goo, and leue me soo, + Than haue ye me betraied. + Remembre you wele, how that ye dele + For, yf ye as the[y] sayd, + Be so unkynde, to leue behynde + Your loue, the notbrowne maide, + Trust me truly, that I [shall] dey + Sone after ye be gone; + For, in my mynde, of all mankynde + I loue but you alone. + + 25. + Yef that ye went, ye shulde repent; + For in the forest nowe + I haue purueid me of a maide, + Whom I loue more than you; + Another fayrer, than euer ye were, + I dare it wel auowe; + And of you bothe eche shulde be wrothe + With other, as I trowe; + It were myn ease, to lyue in pease, + So wyl I, yf I can: + Wherfore I to the wode wyl goo, + Alone a banysshid man. + + 26. + Though in the wood I undirstode + Ye had a paramour, + All this may nought reineue my thought, + But that I wil be your; + And she shal fynde me soft and kynde, + And curteis euery our; + Glad to fulfylle all that she wylle + Commaunde me to my power: + For had ye, loo, an hundred moo, + Yet wolde I be that one, + For, in my mynde, of all mankynde, + I loue but you alone. + + 27. + Myn owne dere loue, I see the proue + That ye be kynde and trewe, + Of mayde, and wyf, in al my lyf, + The best that euer I knewe. + Be mery and glad, be no more sad, + The case is chaunged newe; + For it were ruthe, that, for your trouth, + Ye shuld haue cause to rewe. + Be not dismayed; whatsoeuer I sayd + To you, whan I began, + I wyl not too the grene wod goo, + I am noo banysshyd man. + + 28. + This tidingis be more glad to me, + Than to be made a quene, + Yf I were sure they shuld endure; + But it is often seen, + When men wyl breke promyse, they speke + The wordis on the splene; + Ye shape some wyle me to begyle + And stele fro me, I wene: + Than were the case wurs than it was, + And I more woobegone: + For, in my mynde, of al mankynde + I loue but you alone. + + 29. + Ye shal not nede further to drede; + I wyl not disparage + You, (God defende!) syth you descend + Of so grete a lynage. + Now understonde; to Westmerlande, + Whiche is my herytage, + I wyl you brynge; and wyth a rynge, + By wey of maryage + I wyl you take, and lady make, + As shortly as I can: + Thus haue ye wone an erles son + And not a banysshyd man. + + 30. + Here may ye see, that wymen be + In loue, meke, kinde, and stable; + Late neuer man repreue them than, + Or calle them variable; + But rather prey God that we may + To them be comfortable; + Whiche somtyme prouyth suche as loueth, + Yf they be charitable. + For sith men wolde that wymen sholde + Be meke to them echeon, + Moche more ought they to God obey, + And serue but Hym alone. + + + [Annotations: + 1.1: 'among,' from time to time. + 1.5: 'neuer a dele,' not at all. + 3.4: 'they' = the. 'in fere,' in company. 'and fere' (= fear) is + usually printed. + 5.1: 'do,' done. + 5.5: 'ton,' one. + 5.10: _i.e._ I know no other advice. + 6.4: 'derked,' darkened. + 6.7: 'wheder,' whither. + 7.2: 'distrayne,' affect. + 7.5: 'aslake,' abate. + 10.9: 'thoo,' those. + 11.3: 'renne,' run. + 11.6: A later edition of the _Chronicle_ reads-- + 'A bowe, redy to drawe.' + 13.6: 'rescous,' rescue. Another edition has 'socurs.' + 15.7: 'abowe,' above; 'roue,' roof. + 18.7: 'hele,' health. + 19.3: 'here,' hair; 'ere,' ear. + 19.9: 'And,' If. + 20.7: 'ensue,' follow. + 22.2: The type is broken in the 1502 edition, which reads 'to say + be....' + 23.6: 'yede,' went. + 25.3: 'purueid (= purveyed) me,' provided myself. + 26.9: 'moo' = mo, _i.e._ more. + 30.10: 'echeon,' each one.] + + + + +FAIR JANET + + ++The Text.+--Of seven or eight variants of this ballad, only three +preserve the full form of the story. On the whole, the one here +given--from Sharp's _Ballad Book_, as sung by an old woman in +Perthshire--is the best, as the other two--from Herd's _Scots Songs_, +and the Kinloch MSS.--are slightly contaminated by extraneous matter. + ++The Story+ is a simple ballad-tale of 'true-love twinned'; but the +episode of the dancing forms a link with a number of German and +Scandinavian ballads, in which compulsory dancing and horse-riding is +made a test of the guilt of an accused maiden. In the Scotch ballad the +horse-riding has shrunk almost to nothing, and the dancing is not +compulsory. The resemblance is faint, and the barbarities of the +Continental versions are happily wanting in our ballad. + + +FAIR JANET + + 1. + 'Ye maun gang to your father, Janet, + Ye maun gang to him soon; + Ye maun gang to your father, Janet, + In case that his days are dune.' + + 2. + Janet's awa' to her father, + As fast as she could hie: + 'O what's your will wi' me, father? + O what's your will wi' me?' + + 3. + 'My will wi' you, Fair Janet,' he said, + 'It is both bed and board; + Some say that ye lo'e Sweet Willie, + But ye maun wed a French lord.' + + 4. + 'A French lord maun I wed, father? + A French lord maun I wed? + Then, by my sooth,' quo' Fair Janet, + 'He's ne'er enter my bed.' + + 5. + Janet's awa' to her chamber, + As fast as she could go; + Wha's the first ane that tapped there, + But Sweet Willie her jo? + + 6. + 'O we maun part this love, Willie, + That has been lang between; + There's a French lord coming o'er the sea, + To wed me wi' a ring; + There's a French lord coming o'er the sea, + To wed and tak' me hame.' + + 7. + 'If we maun part this love, Janet, + It causeth mickle woe; + If we maun part this love, Janet, + It makes me into mourning go.' + + 8. + 'But ye maun gang to your three sisters, + Meg, Marion, and Jean; + Tell them to come to Fair Janet, + In case that her days are dune.' + + 9. + Willie's awa' to his three sisters, + Meg, Marion, and Jean: + 'O haste, and gang to Fair Janet, + I fear that her days are dune.' + + 10. + Some drew to them their silken hose, + Some drew to them their shoon, + Some drew to them their silk manteils, + Their coverings to put on, + And they're awa' to Fair Janet, + By the hie light o' the moon. + + ... ... ... + + 11. + 'O I have born this babe, Willie, + Wi' mickle toil and pain; + Take hame, take hame, your babe, Willie, + For nurse I dare be nane.' + + 12. + He's tane his young son in his arms, + And kisst him cheek and chin, + And he's awa' to his mother's bower, + By the hie light o' the moon. + + 13. + 'O open, open, mother,' he says, + 'O open, and let me in; + The rain rains on my yellow hair, + And the dew drops o'er my chin, + And I hae my young son in my arms, + I fear that his days are dune.' + + 14. + With her fingers lang and sma' + She lifted up the pin, + And with her arms lang and sma' + Received the baby in. + + 15. + 'Gae back, gae back now, Sweet Willie, + And comfort your fair lady; + For where ye had but ae nourice, + Your young son shall hae three.' + + 16. + Willie he was scarce awa', + And the lady put to bed, + When in and came her father dear: + 'Make haste, and busk the bride.' + + 17. + 'There's a sair pain in my head, father, + There's a sair pain in my side; + And ill, O ill, am I, father, + This day for to be a bride.' + + 18. + 'O ye maun busk this bonny bride, + And put a gay mantle on; + For she shall wed this auld French lord, + Gin she should die the morn.' + + 19. + Some put on the gay green robes, + And some put on the brown; + But Janet put on the scarlet robes, + To shine foremost throw the town. + + 20. + And some they mounted the black steed, + And some mounted the brown; + But Janet mounted the milk-white steed, + To ride foremost throw the town. + + 21. + 'O wha will guide your horse, Janet? + O wha will guide him best?' + 'O wha but Willie, my true love? + He kens I lo'e him best.' + + 22. + And when they cam' to Marie's kirk, + To tye the haly ban', + Fair Janet's cheek looked pale and wan, + And her colour gaed and cam'. + + 23. + When dinner it was past and done, + And dancing to begin, + 'O we'll go take the bride's maidens, + And we'll go fill the ring.' + + 24. + O ben then cam' the auld French lord, + Saying, 'Bride, will ye dance with me?' + 'Awa', awa', ye auld French Lord, + Your face I downa see.' + + 25. + O ben then cam' now Sweet Willie, + He cam' with ane advance: + 'O I'll go tak' the bride's maidens, + And we'll go tak' a dance.' + + 26. + 'I've seen ither days wi' you, Willie, + And so has mony mae, + Ye would hae danced wi' me mysel', + Let a' my maidens gae.' + + 27. + O ben then cam' now Sweet Willie, + Saying, 'Bride, will ye dance wi' me?' + 'Aye, by my sooth, and that I will, + Gin my back should break in three.' + + 28. + She had nae turned her throw the dance, + Throw the dance but thrice, + Whan she fell doun at Willie's feet, + And up did never rise. + + 29. + Willie's ta'en the key of his coffer, + And gi'en it to his man: + 'Gae hame, and tell my mother dear + My horse he has me slain; + Bid her be kind to my young son, + For father has he nane.' + + 30. + The tane was buried in Marie's kirk, + And the tither in Marie's quire; + Out of the tane there grew a birk, + And the tither a bonny brier. + + + [Annotations: + 5.4: 'jo,' sweetheart. + 15.3: 'nourice,' nurse. + 16.4: 'busk,' dress. + 24.1: 'ben,' into the house. + 24.4: 'downa,' like not to.] + + + + +BROWN ADAM + + ++The Text+ is given from the Jamieson-Brown MS. It was first printed by +Scott, with the omission of the second stanza--perhaps justifiable--and +a few minor changes. He notes that he had seen a copy printed on a +single sheet. + ++The Story+ has a remote parallel in a Danish ballad, extant in +manuscripts of the sixteenth century and later, _Den afhugne Haand_. The +tale is told as follows. Lutzelil, knowing the evil ways of Lawi +Pederson, rejects his proffered love. Lawi vows she shall repent it, and +the maiden is afraid for nine months to go to church, but goes at +Easter. Lawi meets her in a wood, and repeats his offer. She begs him to +do her no harm, feigns compliance, and makes an assignation in the +chamber of her maids. She returns home and tells her father, who watches +for Lawi. When he comes and demands admission, she denies the +assignation. Lawi breaks down the door, and discovers Lutzelil's father +with a drawn sword, with which he cuts off Lawi's hand. + +The reason for objecting to the second stanza as here given is not so +much the inadequacy of a golden hammer, or the unusual whiteness of the +smith's fingers, but the rhyme in the third line. + + +BROWN ADAM + + 1. + O wha woud wish the win' to blaw, + Or the green leaves fa' therewith? + Or wha wad wish a leeler love + Than Brown Adam the Smith? + + 2. + His hammer's o' the beaten gold, + His study's o' the steel, + His fingers white are my delite, + He blows his bellows well. + + 3. + But they ha' banish'd him Brown Adam + Frae father and frae mither, + An' they ha' banish'd him Brown Adam + Frae sister and frae brither. + + 4. + And they ha' banish'd Brown Adam + Frae the flow'r o' a' his kin; + An' he's biggit a bow'r i' the good green wood + Betwen his lady an' him. + + 5. + O it fell once upon a day + Brown Adam he thought lang, + An' he woud to the green wood gang, + To hunt some venison. + + 6. + He's ta'en his bow his arm o'er, + His bran' intill his han', + And he is to the good green wood, + As fast as he coud gang. + + 7. + O he's shot up, an' he's shot down, + The bird upo' the briar, + An' he's sent it hame to his lady, + Bade her be of good cheer. + + 8. + O he's shot up, an' he's shot down, + The bird upo' the thorn, + And sent it hame to his lady, + And hee'd be hame the morn. + + 9. + Whan he came till his lady's bow'r-door + He stood a little forbye, + And there he heard a fu' fa'se knight + Temptin' his gay lady. + + 10. + O he's ta'en out a gay gold ring, + Had cost him mony a poun': + 'O grant me love for love, lady, + An' this sal be your own.' + + 11. + 'I loo Brown Adam well,' she says, + 'I wot sae does he me; + An' I woud na gi' Brown Adam's love + For nae fa'se knight I see.' + + 12. + Out he has ta'en a purse of gold, + Was a' fu' to the string: + 'Grant me but love for love, lady, + An' a' this sal be thine.' + + 13. + 'I loo Brown Adam well,' she says, + 'An' I ken sae does he me; + An' I woudna be your light leman + For mair nor ye coud gie.' + + 14. + Then out has he drawn his lang, lang bran', + An' he's flash'd it in her een: + 'Now grant me love for love, lady, + Or thro' you this sal gang!' + + 15. + 'O,' sighing said that gay lady, + 'Brown Adam tarrys lang!' + Then up it starts Brown Adam, + Says, 'I'm just at your han'.' + + 16. + He's gard him leave his bow, his bow, + He's gard him leave his bran'; + He's gard him leave a better pledge-- + Four fingers o' his right han'. + + + [Annotations: + 1.3: 'leeler,' more loyal. + 2.2: 'study,' stithy, anvil. + 4.3: 'biggit,' built. + 5.2: 'thought lang,' thought (it) tedious; _i.e._ was bored. Cp. + _Young Bekie_, 16.4, etc.; _Johney Scot_, 6.2, and elsewhere. + 9.2: 'forbye,' apart. + 10.1: 'he' is of course the false knight. + 11.1: 'loo,' love. + 12.2: 'string': _i.e._ the top; purses were bags with a running string + to draw the top together. + 15.2: 'lang': the MS. reads long. + 16.1: etc., 'gard,' made.] + + + + +WILLIE O' WINSBURY + + ++The Text+ is from the Campbell MSS. + ++The Story+ was imagined by Kinloch to possess a quasi-historical +foundation: James V. of Scotland, who eventually married Madeleine, +elder daughter of Francis I., having been previously betrothed 'by +treaty' to Marie de Bourbon, daughter of the Duke of Vendome, returned +to Scotland in 1537. The theory is neither probable nor plausible. + + +WILLIE O' WINSBURY + + 1. + The king he hath been a prisoner, + A prisoner lang in Spain, O, + And Willie o' the Winsbury + Has lain lang wi' his daughter at hame, O. + + 2. + 'What aileth thee, my daughter Janet, + Ye look so pale and wan? + Have ye had any sore sickness, + Or have ye been lying wi' a man? + Or is it for me, your father dear, + And biding sae lang in Spain?' + + 3. + 'I have not had any sore sickness, + Nor yet been lying wi' a man; + But it is for you, my father dear, + In biding sae lang in Spain.' + + 4. + 'Cast ye off your berry-brown gown, + Stand straight upon the stone, + That I may ken ye by yere shape, + Whether ye be a maiden or none.' + + 5. + She's coosten off her berry-brown gown, + Stooden straight upo' yon stone; + Her apron was short, her haunches were round, + Her face it was pale and wan. + + 6. + 'Is it to a man o' might, Janet? + Or is it to a man of fame? + Or is it to any of the rank robbers + That's lately come out o' Spain?' + + 7. + 'It is not to a man of might,' she said, + 'Nor is it to a man of fame; + But it is to William of Winsbury; + I could lye nae langer my lane.' + + 8. + The king's called on his merry men all, + By thirty and by three: + 'Go fetch me William of Winsbury, + For hanged he shall be.' + + 9. + But when he cam' the king before, + He was clad o' the red silk; + His hair was like to threeds o' gold, + And his skin was as white as milk. + + 10. + 'It is nae wonder,' said the king, + 'That my daughter's love ye did win; + Had I been a woman, as I am a man, + My bedfellow ye should hae been. + + 11. + 'Will ye marry my daughter Janet, + By the truth of thy right hand? + I'll gi'e ye gold, I'll gi'e ye money, + And I'll gi'e ye an earldom o' land.' + + 12. + 'Yes, I'll marry yere daughter Janet, + By the truth of my right hand; + But I'll hae nane o' yer gold, I'll hae nane o' yer money, + Nor I winna hae an earldom o' land. + + 13. + 'For I hae eighteen corn-mills + Runs all in water clear, + And there's as much corn in each o' them + As they can grind in a year.' + + + + +THE MARRIAGE OF SIR GAWAINE + + ++The Text+ is from the early part of the Percy Folio, and the ballad is +therefore deficient. Where gaps are marked in the text with a row of +asterisks, about nine stanzas are lost in each case--half a page torn +out by a seventeenth-century maidservant to light a fire! Luckily we can +supply the story from other versions. + ++The Story+, also given in _The Weddynge of Sr Gawen and Dame Ragnell_ +(in the Rawlinson MS. c. 86 in the Bodleian Library), runs as follows:-- + +Shortly after Christmas, Arthur, riding by Tarn Wadling (still so +called, but now pasture-land, in the forest of Inglewood), meets a bold +baron, who challenges him to fight, unless he can win his ransom by +returning on New Year's Day with an answer to the question, What does a +woman most desire? Arthur relates the story to Gawaine, asks him and +others for an answer to the riddle, and collects their suggestions in a +book ('letters,' 24.1). On his way to keep his tryst with the baron, he +meets an unspeakably ugly woman, who offers her assistance; if she will +help him, Arthur says, she shall wed with Gawaine. She gives him the +true answer, A woman will have her will. Arthur meets the baron, and +after proffering the budget of answers, confronts him with the true +answer. The baron exclaims against the ugly woman, whom he asserts to be +his sister. + +Arthur returns to his court, and tells his knights that a wife awaits +one of them on the moor. Sir Lancelot, Sir Steven (who is not mentioned +elsewhere in Arthurian tales), Sir Kay, Sir Bauier (probably Beduer or +Bedivere), Sir Bore (Bors de Gauves), Sir Garrett (Gareth), and Sir +Tristram ride forth to find her. At sight, Sir Kay, without overmuch +chivalry, expresses his disgust, and the rest are unwilling to marry +her. The king explains that he has promised to give her to Sir Gawaine, +who, it seems, bows to Arthur's authority, and weds her. During the +bridal night, she becomes a beautiful young woman. Further to test +Gawaine, she gives him his choice: will he have her fair by day and foul +by night, or foul by day and fair by night? Fair by night, says Gawaine. +And foul to be seen of all by day? she asks. Have your way, says +Gawaine, and breaks the last thread of the spell, as she forthwith +explains: her step-mother had bewitched both her, to haunt the moor in +ugly shape, till some knight should grant her _all_ her will, and her +brother, to challenge all comers to fight him or answer the riddle. + +Similar tales, but with the important variation--undoubtedly indigenous +in the story--that the man who saves his life by answering the riddle +has himself to wed the ugly woman, are told by Gower (_Confessio +Amantis_, Book I.) and Chaucer (_The Tale of the Wyf of Bathe_). The +latter, which is also Arthurian in its setting, was made into a ballad +in the _Crown Garland of Golden Roses_ (_circ._ 1600), compiled by +Richard Johnson. A parallel is also to be found in an Icelandic saga. + + +THE MARRIAGE OF SIR GAWAINE + + 1. + Kinge Arthur liues in merry Carleile, + & seemely is to see, + & there he hath with him Queene Genever, + That bride soe bright of blee. + + 2. + And there he hath with [him] Queene Genever, + That bride soe bright in bower, + & all his barons about him stoode, + That were both stiffe and stowre. + + 3. + The king kept a royall Christmasse, + Of mirth and great honor, + And when . . . + ... ... ... + + *** *** *** + + 4. + 'And bring me word what thing it is + That a woman [will] most desire; + This shalbe thy ransome, Arthur,' he sayes, + 'For I'le haue noe other hier.' + + 5. + King Arthur then held vp his hand, + According thene as was the law; + He tooke his leaue of the baron there, + & homward can he draw. + + 6. + And when he came to merry Carlile, + To his chamber he is gone, + & ther came to him his cozen Sir Gawaine + As he did make his mone. + + 7. + And there came to him his cozen Sir Gawaine + That was a curteous knight; + 'Why sigh you soe sore, vnckle Arthur,' he said, + 'Or who hath done thee vnright?' + + 8. + 'O peace, O peace, thou gentle Gawaine, + That faire may thee beffall! + For if thou knew my sighing soe deepe, + Thou wold not meruaile att all; + + 9. + 'Ffor when I came to Tearne Wadling, + A bold barron there I fand, + With a great club vpon his backe, + Standing stiffe and strong; + + 10. + 'And he asked me wether I wold fight, + Or from him I shold begone, + Or else I must him a ransome pay + & soe depart him from. + + 11. + 'To fight with him I saw noe cause, + Methought it was not meet, + For he was stiffe & strong with-all, + His strokes were nothing sweete; + + 12. + 'Therefor this is my ransome, Gawaine, + I ought to him to pay: + I must come againe, as I am sworne, + Vpon the Newyeer's day. + + 13. + 'And I must bring him word what thing it is + ... ... ... + ... ... ... + ... ... ... + + *** *** *** + + 14. + Then King Arthur drest him for to ryde + In one soe rich array + Toward the fore-said Tearne Wadling, + That he might keepe his day. + + 15. + And as he rode over a more, + Hee see a lady where shee sate + Betwixt an oke & a greene hollen; + She was cladd in red scarlett. + + 16. + Then there as shold haue stood her mouth, + Then there was sett her eye, + The other was in her forhead fast + The way that she might see. + + 17. + Her nose was crooked & turnd outward, + Her mouth stood foule a-wry; + A worse formed lady than shee was, + Neuer man saw with his eye. + + 18. + To halch vpon him, King Arthur, + This lady was full faine, + But King Arthur had forgott his lesson, + What he shold say againe. + + 19. + 'What knight art thou,' the lady sayd, + 'That will not speak to me? + Of me be thou nothing dismayd + Tho' I be vgly to see; + + 20. + 'For I haue halched you curteouslye, + & you will not me againe; + Yett I may happen, Sir Knight,' shee said, + 'To ease thee of thy paine.' + + 21. + 'Giue thou ease me, lady,' he said, + 'Or helpe me any thing, + Thou shalt have gentle Gawaine, my cozen, + & marry him with a ring.' + + 22. + 'Why, if I help thee not, thou noble King Arthur, + Of thy owne heart's desiringe, + Of gentle Gawaine . . . + ... ... ... + + *** *** *** + + 23. + And when he came to the Tearne Wadling + The baron there cold he finde, + With a great weapon on his backe, + Standing stiffe and stronge. + + 24. + And then he tooke King Arthur's letters in his hands, + & away he cold them fling, + & then he puld out a good browne sword, + & cryd himselfe a king. + + 25. + And he sayd, 'I haue thee & thy land, Arthur, + To doe as it pleaseth me, + For this is not thy ransome sure, + Therfore yeeld thee to me.' + + 26. + And then bespoke him noble Arthur, + & bad him hold his hand; + '& giue me leaue to speake my mind + In defence of all my land.' + + 27. + He said, 'As I came over a more, + I see a lady where shee sate + Betweene an oke & a green hollen; + She was clad in red scarlett; + + 28. + 'And she says a woman will haue her will, + & this is all her cheef desire: + Doe me right, as thou art a baron of sckill, + This is thy ransome & all thy hyer.' + + 29. + He sayes, 'An early vengeance light on her! + She walkes on yonder more; + It was my sister that told thee this; + & she is a misshappen hore! + + 30. + 'But heer He make mine avow to God + To doe her an euill turne, + For an euer I may thate fowle theefe get, + In a fyer I will her burne.' + + *** *** *** + + + [Annotations: + 1.4: 'blee,' complexion. + 2.4: Perhaps we should read 'stiff in stowre,' a constant expression + in ballads, 'sturdy in fight.' + 11: Arthur's customary bravery and chivalry are not conspicuous in + this ballad. + 18.1: 'halch upon,' salute. + 21.1: 'Giue,' If. + 27.3: 'hollen,' holly. + 28.3: 'sckill,' reason, judgment.] + + ++The 2d Part+ + + 31. + Sir Lancelott & Sir Steven bold + They rode with them that day, + And the formost of the company + There rode the steward Kay. + + 32. + Soe did Sir Bauier and Sir Bore, + Sir Garrett with them soe gay, + Soe did Sir Tristeram that gentle knight, + To the forrest fresh & gay. + + 33. + And when he came to the greene fforrest, + Vnderneath a greene holly tree + Their sate that lady in red scarlet + That vnseemly was to see. + + 34. + Sir Kay beheld this ladys face, + & looked vppon her swire; + 'Whosoeuer kisses this lady,' he sayes, + 'Of his kisse he stands in feare.' + + 35. + Sir Kay beheld the lady againe, + & looked vpon her snout; + 'Whosoeuer kisses this lady,' he saies, + 'Of his kisse he stands in doubt.' + + 36. + 'Peace, cozen Kay,' then said Sir Gawaine, + 'Amend thee of thy life; + For there is a knight amongst vs all + That must marry her to his wife.' + + 37. + 'What! wedd her to wiffe!' then said Sir Kay, + 'In the diuells name, anon! + Gett me a wiffe whereere I may, + For I had rather be slaine!' + + 38. + Then some tooke vp their hawkes in hast, + & some tooke vp their hounds, + & some sware they wold not marry her + For citty nor for towne. + + 39. + And then bespake him noble King Arthur, + & sware there by this day: + 'For a litle foule sight & misliking + ... ... ... + + *** *** *** + + 40. + Then shee said, 'Choose thee, gentle Gawaine, + Truth as I doe say, + Wether thou wilt haue me in this liknesse + In the night or else in the day.' + + 41. + And then bespake him gentle Gawaine, + Was one soe mild of moode, + Sayes, 'Well I know what I wold say, + God grant it may be good! + + 42. + 'To haue thee fowle in the night + When I with thee shold play; + Yet I had rather, if I might, + Haue thee fowle in the day.' + + 43. + 'What! when Lords goe with ther feires,' shee said, + 'Both to the ale & wine? + Alas! then I must hyde my selfe, + I must not goe withinne.' + + 44. + And then bespake him gentle Gawaine; + Said, 'Lady, thats but skill; + And because thou art my owne lady, + Thou shalt haue all thy will.' + + 45. + Then she said, 'Blessed be thou, gentle Gawaine, + This day that I thee see, + For as thou see[st] me att this time, + From hencforth I wil be: + + 46. + 'My father was an old knight, + & yett it chanced soe + That he marryed a younge lady + That brought me to this woe. + + 47. + 'Shee witched me, being a faire young lady, + To the greene forrest to dwell, + & there I must walke in womans likness, + Most like a feend of hell. + + 48. + 'She witched my brother to a carlish b . . . . . + ... ... ... + ... ... ... + ... ... ... + + *** *** *** + + 49. + ... ... ... + ... ... ... + That looked soe foule, & that was wont + On the wild more to goe. + + 50. + 'Come kisse her, brother Kay,' then said Sir Gawaine, + '& amend the of thy liffe; + I sweare this is the same lady + That I marryed to my wiffe.' + + 51. + Sir Kay kissed that lady bright, + Standing vpon his ffeete; + He swore, as he was trew knight, + The spice was neuer soe sweete. + + 52. + 'Well, cozen Gawaine,' sayes Sir Kay, + 'Thy chance is fallen arright, + For thou hast gotten one of the fairest maids + I euer saw with my sight.' + + 53. + 'It is my fortune,' said Sir Gawaine; + 'For my Vnckle Arthur's sake + I am glad as grasse wold be of raine, + Great ioy that I may take.' + + 54. + Sir Gawaine tooke the lady by the one arme, + Sir Kay tooke her by the tother, + They led her straight to King Arthur + As they were brother & brother. + + 55. + King Arthur welcomed them there all, + & soe did lady Geneuer his queene, + With all the knights of the round table + Most seemly to be seene. + + 56. + King Arthur beheld that lady faire + That was soe faire and bright, + He thanked Christ in Trinity + For Sir Gawaine that gentle knight; + + 57. + Soe did the knights, both more and lesse; + Reioyced all that day + For the good chance that hapened was + To Sir Gawaine & his lady gay. + + + [Annotations: + 34.2: 'swire,' neck: the Folio reads _smire_. + 37.4: 'slaine': the Folio gives _shaine_. + 41.2: 'was' (Child's suggestion): the Folio reads _with_. + 43.1: 'feires,' = feres, mates: the Folio reads _seires_. + 44.2: Folio: _but a skill_: see note on 28.3. + 48.1: 'carlish,' churlish.] + + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE BOY AND THE MANTLE + + ++Text.+--The Percy Folio is the sole authority for this excellent lively +ballad. It is here given as it stands in the manuscript, except for +division into stanzas. Percy printed the ballad '_verbatim_,'--that is, +with emendations--and also a revised version. + ++The Story+, which exists in countless variations in many lands, is told +from the earliest times in connection with the Arthurian legend-cycle. +Restricting the article used as a criterion of chastity to a mantle, we +find the elements of this ballad existing in French manuscripts of the +thirteenth century (the romance called _Cort Mantel_); in a Norse +translation of this 'fabliau'; in the Icelandic _Mantle Rhymes_ of the +fifteenth century; in the _Scalachronica_ of Sir Thomas Gray of Heton +(_circ._ 1355); in Germany, and in Gaelic (a ballad known in Irish +writings, but not in Scottish); as well as in many other versions. + +The trial by the drinking-horn is a fable equally old, as far as the +evidence goes, and equally widespread; but it is not told elsewhere in +connection with the parallel story of the mantle. Other tests used for +the purpose of discovering infidelity or unchastity are:-- a crown, a +magic bridge (German); a girdle (English; cp. Florimel's girdle in the +_Faery Queen_, Book iv. Canto 5); a bed, a stepping-stone by the +bedside, a chair (Scandinavian); flowers (Sanskrit); a shirt (German and +Flemish); a picture (Italian, translated to England--cp. Massinger's +_The Picture_ (1630), where he localises the story in Hungary); a ring +(French); a mirror (German, French, and Italian); and so forth. + +Caxton, in his preface to _Kyng Arthur_ (1485), says:-- 'Item, in the +castel of Douer ye may see Gauwayn's skull and Cradok's mantel.' Sir +Thomas Gray says the mantle was made into a chasuble, and was preserved +at Glastonbury. + +Thomas Love Peacock says (_The Misfortunes of Elphin_, chap. xii.), +'Tegau Eurvron, or Tegau of the Golden Bosom, was the wife of Caradoc +[Craddocke], and one of the Three Chaste Wives of the island of +Britain.' A similar statement is recorded by Percy at the end of his +'revised and altered' ballad, taking it from 'the Rev. Evan Evans, +editor of the Specimens of Welsh Poetry.' + + +THE BOY AND THE MANTLE + + 1. + In the third day of May + to Carleile did come + A kind curteous child + that cold much of wisdome. + + 2. + A kirtle & a mantle + this child had vppon, + With brauches and ringes + full richelye bedone. + + 3. + He had a sute of silke, + about his middle drawne; + Without he cold of curtesye, + he thought itt much shame. + + 4. + 'God speed thee, King Arthur, + sitting at thy meate! + & the goodly Queene Gueneuer! + I canott her fforgett. + + 5. + 'I tell you lords in this hall, + I hett you all heede, + Except you be the more surer, + is you for to dread.' + + 6. + He plucked out of his potewer, + & longer wold not dwell, + He pulled forth a pretty mantle, + betweene two nut-shells. + + 7. + 'Haue thou here, King Arthure, + haue thou heere of mee; + Give itt to thy comely queene, + shapen as itt is alreadye. + + 8. + 'Itt shall neuer become that wiffe + that hath once done amisse': + Then euery knight in the King's court + began to care for his wiffe. + + 9. + Forth came dame Gueneuer, + to the mantle shee her bid; + The ladye shee was new-fangle, + but yett shee was affrayd. + + 10. + When shee had taken the mantle, + shee stoode as she had beene madd; + It was ffrom the top to the toe + as sheeres had itt shread. + + 11. + One while was itt gaule, + another while was itt greene; + Another while was itt wadded; + ill itt did her beseeme. + + 12. + Another while was it blacke, + & bore the worst hue; + 'By my troth,' quoth King Arthur, + 'I thinke thou be not true.' + + 13. + Shee threw downe the mantle, + that bright was of blee, + Fast with a rudd redd + to her chamber can shee flee. + + 14. + Shee curst the weauer and the walker + that clothe that had wrought, + & bade a vengeance on his crowne + that hither hath itt brought. + + 15. + 'I had rather be in a wood, + vnder a greene tree, + Then in King Arthurs court, + shamed for to bee.' + + 16. + Kay called forth his ladye, + & bade her come neere; + Saies, 'Madam, & thou be guiltye, + I pray thee hold thee there.' + + 17. + Forth came his ladye + shortlye and anon, + Boldlye to the mantle + then is shee gone. + + 18. + When shee had tane the mantle, + & cast it her about, + Then was shee bare + all aboue the buttocckes. + + 19. + Then euery knight + that was in the Kings court + Talked, laug[h]ed, & showted, + full oft att that sport. + + 20. + Shee threw downe the mantle, + that bright was of blee, + Ffast with a red rudd + to her chamber can shee flee. + + 21. + Forth came an old knight, + pattering ore a creede, + & he proferred to this litle boy + 20 markes to his meede, + + 22. + & all the time of the Christmasse + willinglye to ffeede; + For why this mantle might + doe his wiffe some need. + + 23. + When shee had tane the mantle, + of cloth that was made, + Shee had no more left on her + but a tassell and a threed: + Then euery knight in the Kings court + bade euill might shee speed. + + 24. + She threw downe the mantle, + that bright was of blee, + & fast with a redd rudd + to her chamber can shee flee. + + 25. + Craddocke called forth his ladye, + & bade her come in; + Saith, 'Winne this mantle, ladye, + with a litle dinne. + + 26. + 'Winne this mantle, ladye, + & it shalbe thine + If thou neuer did amisse + since thou wast mine.' + + 27. + Forth came Craddockes ladye + shortlye & anon, + But boldlye to the mantle + then is shee gone. + + 28. + When shee had tane the mantle, + & cast itt her about, + Vpp att her great toe + itt began to crinkle & crowt; + Shee said, 'Bowe downe, mantle, + & shame me not for nought. + + 29. + 'Once I did amisse, + I tell you certainlye, + When I kist Craddockes mouth + vnder a greene tree, + When I kist Craddockes mouth + before he marryed mee.' + + 30. + When shee had her shreeuen, + & her sines shee had tolde, + The mantle stoode about her + right as shee wold, + + 31. + Seemelye of coulour, + glittering like gold; + Then euery knight in Arthurs court + did her behold. + + 32. + Then spake dame Gueneuer + to Arthur our king: + 'She hath tane yonder mantle, + not with wright but with wronge. + + 33. + 'See you not yonder woman + that maketh her selfe soe cleane? + I haue seene tane out of her bedd + of men fiueteene; + + 34. + 'Preists, clarkes, & wedded men, + from her by-deene; + Yett shee taketh the mantle, + & maketh her selfe cleane!' + + 35. + Then spake the litle boy + that kept the mantle in hold; + Sayes, 'King, chasten thy wiffe; + of her words shee is to bold. + + 36. + 'Shee is a bitch & a witch, + & a whore bold; + King, in thine owne hall + thou art a cuchold.' + + 37. + A litle boy stoode + looking ouer a dore; + He was ware of a wyld bore, + wold haue werryed a man. + + 38. + He pulld forth a wood kniffe, + fast thither that he ran; + He brought in the bores head, + & quitted him like a man. + + 39. + He brought in the bores head, + and was wonderous bold; + He said there was neuer a cucholds kniffe + carue itt that cold. + + 40. + Some rubbed their k[n]iues + vppon a whetstone; + Some threw them vnder the table, + & said they had none. + + 41. + King Arthur & the child + stood looking them vpon; + All their k[n]iues edges + turned backe againe. + + 42. + Craddoccke had a litle kniue + of iron & of steele; + He birtled the bores head + wonderous weele, + That euery knight in the Kings court + had a morssell. + + 43. + The litle boy had a horne, + of red gold that ronge; + He said, 'There was noe cuckolde + shall drinke of my horne, + But he shold itt sheede, + either behind or beforne.' + + 44. + Some shedd on their shoulder, + & some on their knee; + He that cold not hitt his mouth + put it in his eye; + & he that was a cuckold, + euery man might him see. + + 45. + Craddoccke wan the horne + & the bores head; + His ladye wan the mantle + vnto her meede; + Euerye such a louely ladye, + God send her well to speede! + + + [Annotations: + 2.3: 'brauches,' brooches. + 5.2: 'hett,' bid; 'heede,' MS. heate. + 6.1: 'potewer.' Child says:-- Read potener, French _pautonniere_, + pouch, purse. + 8.4: Perhaps the line should end with 'his,' but 'wiffe' is the last + word in the manuscript. + 9.3: 'new-fangle,' desirous of novelties. + 11.1: 'gaule,' perhaps = gules, _i.e._ red. + 11.3: 'wadded,' woad-coloured, _i.e._ blue. + 13.2: 'blee,' colour. + 13.3: 'rudd,' complexion. + 14.1: 'walker,' fuller. + 25.4: 'dinne,' trouble. + 28.4: 'crowt,' pucker. + 34.2: 'by-deene,' one after another. + 37 and 38: Evidently some lines have been lost here, and the rhymes + are thereby confused. + 42.3: 'birtled,' cut up. + 43.2: 'ronge,' rang.] + + + + +JOHNEY SCOT + + ++The Text+ of this popular and excellent ballad is given from the +Jamieson-Brown MS. It was copied, with wilful alterations, into Scott's +Abbotsford MS. called _Scottish Songs_. Professor Child prints sixteen +variants of the ballad, nearly all from manuscripts. + ++The Story+ of the duel with the Italian is given with more detail in +other versions. In two ballads from Motherwell's MS., where 'the +Italian' becomes 'the Tailliant' or 'the Talliant,' the champion jumps +over Johney's head, and descends on the point of Johney's sword. This +exploit is paralleled in a Breton ballad, where the Seigneur Les Aubrays +of St. Brieux is ordered by the French king to combat his wild Moor, who +leaps in the air and is received on the sword of his antagonist. Again, +in Scottish tradition, James Macgill, having killed Sir Robert Balfour +about 1679, went to London to procure his pardon, which Charles +II.+ +offered him on the condition of fighting an Italian gladiator. The +Italian leaped once over James Macgill, but in attempting to repeat this +manoeuvre was spitted by his opponent, who thereby procured not only his +pardon, but also knighthood. + + +JOHNEY SCOT + + 1. + O Johney was as brave a knight + As ever sail'd the sea, + An' he's done him to the English court, + To serve for meat and fee. + + 2. + He had nae been in fair England + But yet a little while, + Untill the kingis ae daughter + To Johney proves wi' chil'. + + 3. + O word's come to the king himsel', + In his chair where he sat, + That his ae daughter was wi' bairn + To Jack, the Little Scott. + + 4. + 'Gin this be true that I do hear, + As I trust well it be, + Ye pit her into prison strong, + An' starve her till she die.' + + 5. + O Johney's on to fair Scotland, + A wot he went wi' speed, + An' he has left the kingis court, + A wot good was his need. + + 6. + O it fell once upon a day + That Johney he thought lang, + An' he's gane to the good green wood, + As fast as he coud gang. + + 7. + 'O whare will I get a bonny boy, + To rin my errand soon, + That will rin into fair England, + An' haste him back again?' + + 8. + O up it starts a bonny boy, + Gold yallow was his hair, + I wish his mother meickle joy, + His bonny love mieckle mair. + + 9. + 'O here am I, a bonny boy, + Will rin your errand soon; + I will gang into fair England, + An' come right soon again.' + + 10. + O whan he came to broken briggs, + He bent his bow and swam; + An' whan he came to the green grass growan, + He slaikid his shoone an' ran. + + 11. + Whan he came to yon high castel, + He ran it roun' about, + An' there he saw the king's daughter, + At the window looking out. + + 12. + 'O here's a sark o' silk, lady, + Your ain han' sew'd the sleeve; + You'r bidden come to fair Scotlan', + Speer nane o' your parents' leave. + + 13. + 'Ha, take this sark o' silk, lady, + Your ain han' sew'd the gare; + You're bidden come to good green wood, + Love Johney waits you there.' + + 14. + She's turn'd her right and roun' about, + The tear was in her ee: + 'How can I come to my true-love, + Except I had wings to flee? + + 15. + 'Here am I kept wi' bars and bolts, + Most grievous to behold; + My breast-plate's o' the sturdy steel, + Instead of the beaten gold. + + 16. + 'But tak' this purse, my bonny boy, + Ye well deserve a fee, + An' bear this letter to my love, + An' tell him what you see.' + + 17. + Then quickly ran the bonny boy + Again to Scotlan' fair, + An' soon he reach'd Pitnachton's tow'rs, + An' soon found Johney there. + + 18. + He pat the letter in his han' + An' taul' him what he sa', + But eer he half the letter read, + He loote the tears doun fa'. + + 19. + 'O I will gae back to fair Englan', + Tho' death shoud me betide, + An' I will relieve the damesel + That lay last by my side.' + + 20. + Then out it spake his father dear, + 'My son, you are to blame; + An' gin you'r catch'd on English groun', + I fear you'll ne'er win hame.' + + 21. + Then out it spake a valiant knight, + Johny's best friend was he; + 'I can commaun' five hunder men, + An' I'll his surety be.' + + 22. + The firstin town that they came till, + They gard the bells be rung; + An' the nextin town that they came till, + They gard the mess be sung. + + 23. + The thirdin town that they came till, + They gard the drums beat roun'; + The king but an' his nobles a' + Was startl'd at the soun'. + + 24. + Whan they came to the king's palace + They rade it roun' about, + An' there they saw the king himsel', + At the window looking out. + + 25. + 'Is this the Duke o' Albany, + Or James, the Scottish king? + Or are ye some great foreign lord, + That's come a visiting?' + + 26. + 'I'm nae the Duke of Albany, + Nor James, the Scottish king; + But I'm a valiant Scottish knight, + Pitnachton is my name.' + + 27. + 'O if Pitnachton be your name, + As I trust well it be, + The morn, or I tast meat or drink, + You shall be hanged hi'.' + + 28. + Then out it spake the valiant knight + That came brave Johney wi'; + 'Behold five hunder bowmen bold, + Will die to set him free.' + + 29. + Then out it spake the king again, + An' a scornfu' laugh laugh he; + 'I have an Italian in my house + Will fight you three by three.' + + 30. + 'O grant me a boon,' brave Johney cried; + 'Bring your Italian here; + Then if he fall beneath my sword, + I've won your daughter dear.' + + 31. + Then out it came that Italian, + An' a gurious ghost was he; + Upo' the point o' Johney's sword + This Italian did die. + + 32. + Out has he drawn his lang, lang bran', + Struck it across the plain: + 'Is there any more o' your English dogs + That you want to be slain?' + + 33. + 'A clark, a clark,' the king then cried, + 'To write her tocher free'; + 'A priest, a priest,' says Love Johney, + 'To marry my love and me. + + 34. + 'I'm seeking nane o' your gold,' he says, + 'Nor of your silver clear; + I only seek your daughter fair, + Whose love has cost her dear.' + + [Annotations: + 5.2,4: 'A wot' = I wis. + 6.2: See _Young Bekie_, 16.4; _Brown Adam_, 5.2. + 10: See _Lady Maisry_, 21; _Lord Ingram and Chiel Wyet_, 12, etc.: + a stock ballad-phrase. + 12.1: 'sark,' shift. + 12.4: 'Speer' (speir), ask. + 13.2: 'gare,' gore: see _Brown Robin_, 10.4. + 18.4: 'loote,' let. + 22.4: 'mess,' mass. + 27.3: 'or,' ere. + 29.2: The second 'laugh' is the past tense of the verb. + 31.2: 'gurious,' grim, ugly. + 33.2: 'tocher,' dowry.] + + + + +LORD INGRAM AND CHIEL WYET + + ++The Text+ is taken from Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, a similar version +being given in Maidment's _North Countrie Garland_. A few alterations +from the latter version are incorporated. + ++The Story+ bears tokens of confusion with _Lady Maisry_ in some of the +variants of either, but here the tragedy is that the bridegroom is +brother to the lover. The end of this ballad in all its forms is highly +unnatural in its style: why should Maisery's remorse at having been such +an expense to Lord Ingram be three times as great as her grief for the +loss of her lover? It is by no means romantic. + + +LORD INGRAM AND CHIEL WYET + + 1. + Lord Ingram and Chiel Wyet + Was baith born in one bower; + Laid baith their hearts on one lady, + The less was their honour. + + 2. + Chiel Wyet and Lord Ingram + Was baith born in one hall; + Laid baith their hearts on one lady, + The worse did them befall. + + 3. + Lord Ingram woo'd her Lady Maisery + From father and from mother; + Lord Ingram woo'd her Lady Maisery + From sister and from brother. + + 4. + Lord Ingram woo'd her Lady Maisery + With leave of a' her kin; + And every one gave full consent, + But she said no to him. + + 5. + Lord Ingram woo'd her Lady Maisery + Into her father's ha'; + Chiel Wyet woo'd her Lady Maisery + Amang the sheets so sma'. + + 6. + Now it fell out upon a day + She was dressing her head, + That ben did come her father dear, + Wearing the gold so red. + + 7. + He said, 'Get up now, Lady Maisery, + Put on your wedding gown; + For Lord Ingram he will be here, + Your wedding must be done.' + + 8. + 'I'd rather be Chiel Wyet's wife, + The white fish for to sell, + Before I were Lord Ingram's wife, + To wear the silk so well. + + 9. + 'I'd rather be Chiel Wyet's wife, + With him to beg my bread, + Before I were Lord Ingram's wife, + To wear the gold so red. + + 10. + 'Where will I get a bonny boy, + Will win gold to his fee, + And will run unto Chiel Wyet's, + With this letter from me?' + + 11. + 'O here I am, the boy,' says one, + 'Will win gold to my fee, + And carry away any letter + To Chiel Wyet from thee.' + + 12. + And when he found the bridges broke + He bent his bow and swam; + And when he found the grass growing, + He hastened and he ran. + + 13. + And when he came to Chiel Wyet's castle, + He did not knock nor call, + But set his bent bow to his breast, + And lightly leaped the wall; + And ere the porter open'd the gate, + The boy was in the hall. + + 14. + The first line he looked on, + A grieved man was he; + The next line he looked on, + A tear blinded his ee: + Says, 'I wonder what ails my one brother, + He'll not let my love be! + + 15. + 'But I'll send to my brother's bridal-- + The bacon shall be mine-- + Full four and twenty buck and roe, + And ten tun of the wine; + And bid my love be blythe and glad, + And I will follow syne.' + + 16. + There was not a groom about that castle, + But got a gown of green, + And all was blythe, and all was glad, + But Lady Maisery she was neen. + + 17. + There was no cook about that kitchen, + But got a gown of gray; + And all was blythe, and all was glad, + But Lady Maisery was wae. + + 18. + Between Mary Kirk and that castle + Was all spread ower with garl, + To keep Lady Maisery and her maidens + From tramping on the marl. + + 19. + From Mary Kirk to that castle + Was spread a cloth of gold, + To keep Lady Maisery and her maidens + From treading on the mold. + + 20. + When mass was sung, and bells was rung, + And all men bound for bed; + Then Lord Ingram and Lady Maisery + In one bed they were laid. + + 21. + When they were laid into their bed, + It was baith saft and warm, + He laid his hand over her side, + Says, 'I think you are with bairn.' + + 22. + 'I told you once, so did I twice, + When ye came me to woo, + That Chiel Wyet, your only brother, + One night lay in my bower. + + 23. + 'I told you twice, I told you thrice, + Ere ye came me to wed, + That Chiel Wyet, your one brother, + One night lay in my bed.' + + 24. + 'O will you father your bairn on me, + And on no other man? + And I'll give him to his dowry + Full fifty ploughs of land.' + + 25. + 'I will not father my bairn on you, + Nor on no wrongeous man, + Though ye would give him to his dowry + Five thousand ploughs of land.' + + 26. + Then up did start him Chiel Wyet, + Shed by his yellow hair, + And gave Lord Ingram to the heart + A deep wound and a sair. + + 27. + Then up did start him Lord Ingram, + Shed by his yellow hair, + And gave Chiel Wyet to the heart, + A deep wound and a sair. + + 28. + There was no pity for that two lords, + Where they were lying slain; + But all was for her Lady Maisery, + In that bower she gaed brain. + + 29. + There was no pity for that two lords, + When they were lying dead; + But all was for her Lady Maisery, + In that bower she went mad. + + 30. + Said, 'Get to me a cloak of cloth, + A staff of good hard tree; + If I have been an evil woman, + I shall beg till I dee. + + 31. + 'For a bit I'll beg for Chiel Wyet, + For Lord Ingram I'll beg three; + All for the good and honourable marriage, + At Mary Kirk he gave me.' + + + [Annotations: + 1.4: 'honour': Motherwell printed _bonheur_. + 6.3: 'ben,' in. + 8.2: 'sell': Motherwell gave _kill_. + 12: Cp. _Lady Maisry_, 21. + 16.4: 'neen,' none, not. + 18.2: 'garl,' gravel. + 26.1: Motherwell gives _did stand_. + 28.4: 'brain,' mad. + 30.2: 'tree,' wood. + 31.1: 'a' = ae, each.] + + + + +THE TWA SISTERS O' BINNORIE + + ++Texts.+--The version here given is compounded from two different +sources, almost of necessity. Stanzas 1-19 were given by Scott, +compounded from W. Tytler's Brown MS. and the recitation of an old +woman. But at stanza 20 Scott's version becomes eccentric, and he prints +such verses as:-- + + 'A famous harper passing by + The sweet pale face he chanced to spy ... + + The strings he framed of her yellow hair, + Whose notes made sad the listening air.' + +Stanzas 20-25, therefore, have been supplied from the Jamieson-Brown +MS., which after this point does not descend from the high level of +ballad-poetry. + ++The Story.+--This is a very old and a very popular story. An early +broadside exists, dated 1656, and the same version is printed in _Wit +Restor'd_, 1658. Of Scandinavian ballads on the same subject, nine are +Danish, two Icelandic, twelve Norwegian, four Faeroee, and eight or nine +Swedish. + + +THE TWA SISTERS O' BINNORIE + + 1. + There were twa sisters sat in a bour, + _Binnorie, O Binnorie!_ + There came a knight to be their wooer, + _By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie._ + + 2. + He courted the eldest wi' glove and ring, + _Binnorie, O Binnorie!_ + But he lo'ed the youngest aboon a' thing, + _By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie._ + + 3. + He courted the eldest with broach and knife, + _Binnorie, O Binnorie!_ + But he lo'ed the youngest aboon his life, + _By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie._ + + 4. + The eldest she was vexed sair, + _Binnorie, O Binnorie!_ + And sair envied her sister fair, + _By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie._ + + 5. + The eldest said to the youngest ane, + _Binnorie, O Binnorie!_ + 'Will ye go and see our father's ships come in?' + _By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie._ + + 6. + She's ta'en her by the lilly hand, + _Binnorie, O Binnorie!_ + And led her down to the river-strand, + _By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie._ + + 7. + The youngest stude upon a stane, + _Binnorie, O Binnorie!_ + The eldest came and pushed her in, + _By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie._ + + 8. + She took her by the middle sma', + _Binnorie, O Binnorie!_ + And dashed her bonnie back to the jaw, + _By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie/_ + + 9. + 'O sister, sister, reach your hand!' + _Binnorie, O Binnorie!_ + 'And ye shall be heir of half my land,' + _By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie._ + + 10. + 'O sister, I'll not reach my hand,' + _Binnorie, O Binnorie!_ + 'And I'll be heir of all your land,' + _By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie._ + + 11. + 'Shame fa' the hand that I should take,' + _Binnorie, O Binnorie!_ + 'It's twin'd me and my world's make,' + _By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie._ + + 12. + 'O sister, reach me but your glove,' + _Binnorie, O Binnorie!_ + 'And sweet William shall be your love,' + _By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie._ + + 13. + 'Sink on, nor hope for hand or glove,' + _Binnorie, O Binnorie!_ + 'And sweet William shall better be my love,' + _By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie._ + + 14. + 'Your cherry cheeks and your yellow hair,' + _Binnorie, O Binnorie!_ + 'Garr'd me gang maiden evermair,' + _By the bonnie mill-dams o' Binnorie._ + + 15. + Sometimes she sunk, and sometimes she swam, + _Binnorie, O Binnorie!_ + Until she came to the miller's dam, + _By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie._ + + 16. + 'O father, father, draw your dam!' + _Binnorie, O Binnorie!_ + 'There's either a mermaid or a milk-white swan,' + _By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie._ + + 17. + The miller hasted and drew his dam, + _Binnorie, O Binnorie!_ + And there he found a drowned woman, + _By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie._ + + 18. + You could not see her yellow hair, + _Binnorie, O Binnorie!_ + For gowd and pearls that were sae rare, + _By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie._ + + 19. + You could na see her middle sma', + _Binnorie, O Binnorie!_ + Her gowden girdle was sae bra', + _By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie._ + + 20. + An' by there came a harper fine, + _Binnorie, O Binnorie!_ + That harped to the king at dine, + _By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie._ + + 21. + When he did look that lady upon, + _Binnorie, O Binnorie!_ + He sigh'd and made a heavy moan, + _By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie._ + + 22. + He's ta'en three locks o' her yallow hair, + _Binnorie, O Binnorie!_ + And wi' them strung his harp sae fair, + _By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie._ + + 23. + The first tune he did play and sing, + _Binnorie, O Binnorie!_ + Was, 'Farewell to my father the king,' + _By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie._ + + 24. + The nextin tune that he play'd syne, + _Binnorie, O Binnorie!_ + Was, 'Farewell to my mother the queen,' + _By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie._ + + 25. + The lasten tune that he play'd then, + _Binnorie, O Binnorie!_ + Was, 'Wae to my sister, fair Ellen!' + _By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie._ + + + [Annotations: + 8.3: 'jaw,' wave. + 11.3: 'my world's make,' my earthly mate.] + + + + +YOUNG WATERS + + ++The Text+ is that of a copy mentioned by Percy, 'printed not long since +at Glasgow, in one sheet 8vo. The world was indebted for its publication +to the lady Jean Hume, sister to the Earle of Hume, who died lately at +Gibraltar.' The original edition, discovered by Mr. Macmath after +Professor Child's version (from the _Reliques_) was in print, is:-- +'Young Waters, an Ancient Scottish Poem, never before printed. Glasgow, +printed and sold by Robert and Andrew Foulis, 1755.' This was also known +to Maidment. Hardly a word differs from Percy's version; but here I have +substituted the spellings 'wh' for Percy's 'quh,' in 'quhen,' etc., and +'y' for his 'z' in 'zoung, zou,' etc. + ++The Story+ has had historical foundations suggested for it by Percy and +Chambers. Percy identified Young Waters with the Earl of Murray, +murdered, according to the chronicle of Sir James Balfour, on the 7th of +February 1592. Chambers, in 1829, relying on Buchan's version of the +ballad, had no doubt that Young Waters was one of the Scots nobles +executed by James I., and was very probably Walter Stuart, second son of +the Duke of Albany. Thirty years later, Chambers was equally certain +that the ballad was the composition of Lady Wardlaw. + +In a Scandinavian ballad, Folke Lovmandson is a favourite at court; +a little wee page makes the fatal remark and excites the king's +jealousy. The innocent knight is rolled down a hill in a barrel set with +knives--a punishment common in Scandinavian folklore. + + +YOUNG WATERS + + 1. + About Yule, when the wind blew cule, + And the round tables began, + A there is cum to our king's court + Mony a well-favor'd man. + + 2. + The queen luikt owre the castle-wa', + Beheld baith dale and down, + And there she saw Young Waters + Cum riding to the town. + + 3. + His footmen they did rin before, + His horsemen rade behind; + Ane mantel of the burning gowd + Did keip him frae the wind. + + 4. + Gowden-graith'd his horse before, + And siller-shod behind; + The horse Young Waters rade upon + Was fleeter than the wind. + + 5. + Out then spack a wylie lord, + Unto the queen said he: + 'O tell me wha 's the fairest face + Rides in the company?' + + 6. + 'I've sene lord, and I've sene laird, + And knights of high degree, + Bot a fairer face than Young Waters + Mine eyne did never see.' + + 7. + Out then spack the jealous king, + And an angry man was he: + 'O if he had bin twice as fair, + You micht have excepted me.' + + 8. + 'You're neither laird nor lord,' she says, + 'Bot the king that wears the crown; + There is not a knight in fair Scotland + Bot to thee maun bow down.' + + 9. + For a' that she coud do or say, + Appeas'd he wad nae bee, + Bot for the words which she had said, + Young Waters he maun die. + + 10. + They hae ta'en Young Waters, + And put fetters to his feet; + They hae ta'en Young Waters, and + Thrown him in dungeon deep. + + 11. + 'Aft have I ridden thro' Stirling town, + In the wind bot and the weit; + Bot I neir rade thro' Stirling town + Wi' fetters at my feet. + + 12. + 'Aft have I ridden thro' Stirling town, + In the wind bot and the rain; + Bot I neir rade thro' Stirling town + Neir to return again.' + + 13. + They hae ta'en to the heiding-hill + His young son in his craddle, + And they hae ta'en to the heiding-hill + His horse bot and his saddle. + + 14. + They hae ta'en to heiding-hill + His lady fair to see, + And for the words the queen had spoke + Young Waters he did die. + + + [Annotations: + 1.2: 'round tables,' an unknown game. + 4.1: 'graith'd,' harnessed, usually; here perhaps shod. + 6.1: 'laird,' a landholder, below the degree of knight.--+Jamieson+. + 13.1: 'heiding-hill': _i.e._ heading (beheading) hill. The place of + execution was anciently an artificial hillock.--+Percy+.] + + + + +BARBARA ALLAN + + ++The Text+ is from Allan Ramsay's _Tea-Table Miscellany_ (1763). It was +not included in the first edition (1724-1727), nor until the ninth +edition in 1740, when to the original three volumes there was added a +fourth, in which this ballad appeared. There is also a Scotch version, +_Sir John Grehme and Barbara Allan_. Percy printed both in the +_Reliques_, vol. iii. + ++The Story+ of Barbara Allan's scorn of her lover and subsequent regret +has always been popular. Pepys records of Mrs. Knipp, 'In perfect +pleasure I was to hear her sing, and especially her little Scotch song +of Barbary Allen' (January 2, 1665-6). Goldsmith's words are equally +well known: 'The music of the finest singer is dissonance to what I felt +when an old dairymaid sung me into tears with _Johnny Armstrong's Last +Goodnight_, or _The Cruelty of Barbara Allen_.' The tune is excessively +popular: it is given in Chappell's _English Song and Ballad Music_. + + +BARBARA ALLAN + + 1. + It was in and about the Martinmas time, + When the green leaves were afalling, + That Sir John Graeme, in the West Country, + Fell in love with Barbara Allan. + + 2. + He sent his men down through the town, + To the place where she was dwelling; + 'O haste and come to my master dear, + Gin ye be Barbara Allan.' + + 3. + O hooly, hooly rose she up, + To the place where he was lying, + And when she drew the curtain by, + 'Young man, I think you're dying.' + + 4. + 'O it's I am sick, and very, very sick, + And 't is a' for Barbara Allan.' + 'O the better for me ye 's never be, + Tho' your heart's blood were aspilling.' + + 5. + 'O dinna ye mind, young man,' said she, + 'When ye was in the tavern a drinking, + That ye made the healths gae round and round, + And slighted Barbara Allan?' + + 6. + He turn'd his face unto the wall, + And death was with him dealing; + 'Adieu, adieu, my dear friends all, + And be kind to Barbara Allan.' + + 7. + And slowly, slowly raise she up, + And slowly, slowly left him, + And sighing, said, she coud not stay, + Since death of life had reft him. + + 8. + She had not gane a mile but twa, + When she heard the dead-bell ringing, + And every jow that the dead-bell geid, + It cry'd, 'Woe to Barbara Allan!' + + 9. + 'O mother, mother, make my bed, + O make it saft and narrow! + Since my love died for me to-day, + I'll die for him to-morrow.' + + + + +THE GAY GOSHAWK + + ++The Text+ is from the Jamieson-Brown MS., on which version Scott drew +partly for his ballad in the _Minstrelsy_. Mrs. Brown recited the ballad +again to William Tytler in 1783, but the result is now lost, with most +of the other Tytler-Brown versions. + ++The Story.+--One point, the maid's feint of death to escape from her +father to her lover, is the subject of a ballad very popular in France; +a version entitled _Belle Isambourg_ is printed in a collection called +_Airs de Cour_, 1607. Feigning death to escape various threats is a +common feature in many European ballads. + +It is perhaps needless to remark that no goshawk sings sweetly, much +less talks. In Buchan's version (of forty-nine stanzas) the goshawk is +exchanged for a parrot. + + +THE GAY GOSHAWK + + 1. + 'O well's me o' my gay goss-hawk, + That he can speak and flee; + He'll carry a letter to my love, + Bring back another to me.' + + 2. + 'O how can I your true-love ken, + Or how can I her know? + When frae her mouth I never heard couth, + Nor wi' my eyes her saw.' + + 3. + 'O well sal ye my true-love ken, + As soon as you her see; + For, of a' the flow'rs in fair Englan', + The fairest flow'r is she. + + 4. + 'At even at my love's bow'r-door + There grows a bowing birk, + An' sit ye down and sing thereon + As she gangs to the kirk. + + 5. + 'An' four-and-twenty ladies fair + Will wash and go to kirk, + But well shall ye my true-love ken, + For she wears goud on her skirt. + + 6. + 'An' four-and-twenty gay ladies + Will to the mass repair, + But well sal ye my true-love ken, + For she wears goud on her hair.' + + 7. + O even at that lady's bow'r-door + There grows a bowin' birk, + An' she sat down and sang thereon, + As she ged to the kirk. + + 8. + 'O eet and drink, my marys a', + The wine flows you among, + Till I gang to my shot-window, + An' hear yon bonny bird's song. + + 9. + 'Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird, + The song ye sang the streen, + For I ken by your sweet singin', + You 're frae my true-love sen'.' + + 10. + O first he sang a merry song, + An' then he sang a grave, + An' then he peck'd his feathers gray, + To her the letter gave. + + 11. + 'Ha, there's a letter frae your love, + He says he sent you three; + He canna wait your love langer, + But for your sake he'll die. + + 12. + 'He bids you write a letter to him; + He says he's sent you five; + He canno wait your love langer, + Tho' you're the fairest woman alive.' + + 13. + 'Ye bid him bake his bridal bread, + And brew his bridal ale, + An' I'll meet him in fair Scotlan' + Lang, lang or it be stale.' + + 14. + She's doen her to her father dear, + Fa'n low down on her knee: + 'A boon, a boon, my father dear, + I pray you, grant it me.' + + 15. + 'Ask on, ask on, my daughter, + An' granted it sal be; + Except ae squire in fair Scotlan', + An' him you sall never see.' + + 16. + 'The only boon my father dear, + That I do crave of the, + Is, gin I die in southin lans, + In Scotland to bury me. + + 17. + 'An' the firstin kirk that ye come till, + Ye gar the bells be rung, + An' the nextin kirk that ye come till, + Ye gar the mess be sung. + + 18. + 'An' the thirdin kirk that ye come till, + You deal gold for my sake, + An' the fourthin kirk that ye come till, + You tarry there till night.' + + 19. + She is doen her to her bigly bow'r, + As fast as she coud fare, + An' she has tane a sleepy draught, + That she had mix'd wi' care. + + 20. + She's laid her down upon her bed, + An' soon she's fa'n asleep, + And soon o'er every tender limb + Cauld death began to creep. + + 21. + Whan night was flown, an' day was come, + Nae ane that did her see + But thought she was as surely dead + As ony lady coud be. + + 22. + Her father an' her brothers dear + Gard make to her a bier; + The tae half was o' guid red gold, + The tither o' silver clear. + + 23. + Her mither an' her sisters fair + Gard work for her a sark; + The tae half was o' cambrick fine, + The tither o' needle wark. + + 24. + The firstin kirk that they came till, + They gard the bells be rung, + An' the nextin kirk that they came till, + They gard the mess be sung. + + 25. + The thirdin kirk that they came till, + They dealt gold for her sake, + An' the fourthin kirk that they came till, + Lo, there they met her make! + + 26. + 'Lay down, lay down the bigly bier, + Lat me the dead look on'; + Wi' cherry cheeks and ruby lips + She lay an' smil'd on him. + + 27. + 'O ae sheave o' your bread, true-love, + An' ae glass o' your wine, + For I hae fasted for your sake + These fully days is nine. + + 28. + 'Gang hame, gang hame, my seven bold brothers, + Gang hame and sound your horn; + An' ye may boast in southin lan's + Your sister's play'd you scorn.' + + + [Annotations: + 2.3: 'couth,' word.--+Jamieson+. The derivation, from Anglo-Saxon + _cwide_, is hard. + 7.3: 'she' is the goshawk; called 'he' in 1.2. + 8.3: 'shot-window,' here perhaps a bow-window. + 9.2: 'streen' = yestreen, last evening. + 19.1: 'bigly,' _lit._ habitable; the stock epithet of 'bower.' + 25.4: 'make,' mate, lover. + 27.1: 'sheave,' slice.] + + + + +BROWN ROBIN + + ++The Text+ is here given from the Jamieson-Brown MS. Versions, +lengthened and therefore less succinct and natural, are given in +Christie's _Traditional Ballad Airs_ (_Love Robbie_) and in Buchan's +_Ballads of the North of Scotland_ (_Brown Robyn and Mally_). + ++The Story+ is a genuine bit of romance. The proud porter is apparently +suspicious, believing that the king's daughter would not have made him +drunk for any good purpose. In spite of that he cannot see through Brown +Robin's disguise, though the king remarks that 'this is a sturdy dame.' +The king's daughter, one would think, who conceals Robin's bow in her +bosom, must also have been somewhat sturdy. Note the picturesque touch +in 8.2. + + +BROWN ROBIN + + 1. + The king but an' his nobles a' } _bis_ + Sat birling at the wine; } + He would ha' nane but his ae daughter + To wait on them at dine. + + 2. + She's served them butt, she's served them ben, + Intill a gown of green, + But her e'e was ay on Brown Robin, + That stood low under the rain. + + 3. + She's doen her to her bigly bow'r, + As fast as she coud gang, + An' there she's drawn her shot-window, + An' she's harped an' she sang. + + 4. + 'There sits a bird i' my father's garden, + An' O but she sings sweet! + I hope to live an' see the day + When wi' my love I'll meet.' + + 5. + 'O gin that ye like me as well + As your tongue tells to me, + What hour o' the night, my lady bright, + At your bow'r sal I be?' + + 6. + 'Whan my father an' gay Gilbert + Are baith set at the wine, + O ready, ready I will be + To lat my true-love in.' + + 7. + O she has birl'd her father's porter + Wi' strong beer an' wi' wine, + Untill he was as beastly drunk + As ony wild-wood swine: + She's stown the keys o' her father's yates + An latten her true-love in. + + 8. + When night was gane, an' day was come, + An' the sun shone on their feet, + Then out it spake him Brown Robin, + 'I'll be discover'd yet.' + + 9. + Then out it spake that gay lady: + 'My love ye need na doubt, + For wi' ae wile I've got you in, + Wi' anither I'll bring you out.' + + 10. + She's ta'en her to her father's cellar, + As fast as she can fare; + She's drawn a cup o' the gude red wine, + Hung 't low down by her gare; + An' she met wi' her father dear + Just coming down the stair. + + 11. + 'I woud na gi' that cup, daughter, + That ye hold i' your han', + For a' the wines in my cellar, + An' gantrees whare the[y] stan'.' + + 12. + 'O wae be to your wine, father, + That ever 't came o'er the sea; + 'Tis pitten my head in sic a steer + I' my bow'r I canna be.' + + 13. + 'Gang out, gang out, my daughter dear, + Gang out an' tack the air; + Gang out an' walk i' the good green wood, + An' a' your marys fair.' + + 14. + Then out it spake the proud porter-- + Our lady wish'd him shame-- + 'We'll send the marys to the wood, + But we'll keep our lady at hame.' + + 15. + 'There's thirty marys i' my bow'r, + There's thirty o' them an' three; + But there 's nae ane amo' them a' + Kens what flow'r gains for me.' + + 16. + She's doen her to her bigly bow'r + As fast as she could gang, + An' she has dresst him Brown Robin + Like ony bow'r-woman. + + 17. + The gown she pat upon her love + Was o' the dainty green, + His hose was o' the saft, saft silk, + His shoon o' the cordwain fine. + + 18. + She's pitten his bow in her bosom, + His arrow in her sleeve, + His sturdy bran' her body next, + Because he was her love. + + 19. + Then she is unto her bow'r-door + As fast as she coud gang; + But out it spake the proud porter-- + Our lady wish'd him shame-- + 'We'll count our marys to the wood, + And we'll count them back again.' + + 20. + The firsten mary she sent out + Was Brown Robin by name; + Then out it spake the king himsel', + 'This is a sturdy dame.' + + 21. + O she went out in a May morning, + In a May morning so gay, + But she never came back again, + Her auld father to see. + + + [Annotations: + 1.2: 'birling,' drinking: cf. 7.1. + 3.1: 'bigly,' commodious: see _The Gay Goshawk_, 19.1. + 3.3: 'shot-window,' here perhaps a shutter with a pane of glass let + in. + 7.1: 'birl'd,' plied: cf. 1.2. + 7.4: Cf. _Fause Footrage_ 16.4: a popular simile. + 7.5: 'stown,' stolen: 'yates,' gates. + 10.4: 'gare,' gore; _i.e._ by her knee: a stock ballad phrase. + 11.4: 'gantrees,' stands for casks. + 12.3: 'sic,' such: the MS. gives _sick_: 'steer,' disturbance. + 13.4: 'marys,' maids. + 15.4: 'gains for,' suits, is meet (Icelandic, _gegna_). Cf. Jamieson's + version of _Sir Patrick Spence_:-- + 'For I brought as much white money + As will gain my men and me.' + 17.4: 'cordwain,' Cordovan (Spanish) leather. + 21.2: 'gay': the MS. gives _gray_. This is Child's emendation, who + points out that the sun was up, 8.2.] + + + + +LADY ALICE + + ++The Text+ of this little ballad is given from Bell's _Ancient Poems, +Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England_. + +It should be compared with _Lord Lovel_. + + +LADY ALICE + + 1. + Lady Alice was sitting in her bower-window, + At midnight mending her quoif, + And there she saw as fine a corpse + As ever she saw in her life. + + 2. + 'What bear ye, what bear ye, ye six men tall? + What bear ye on your shoulders?' + 'We bear the corpse of Giles Collins, + An old and true lover of yours.' + + 3. + 'O lay him down gently, ye six men tall, + All on the grass so green, + And to-morrow, when the sun goes down, + Lady Alice a corpse shall be seen. + + 4. + 'And bury me in Saint Mary's church, + All for my love so true, + And make me a garland of marjoram, + And of lemon-thyme, and rue.' + + 5. + Giles Collins was buried all in the east, + Lady Alice all in the west, + And the roses that grew on Giles Collins's grave, + They reached Lady Alice's breast. + + 6. + The priest of the parish he chanced to pass, + And he severed those roses in twain; + Sure never were seen such true lovers before, + Nor e'er will there be again. + + + [Annotations: + 1.2: 'quoif,' cap. The line should doubtless be:-- + 'Mending her midnight quoif.'] + + + + +CHILD MAURICE + + ++The Text+ is from the Percy Folio, given _literatim_, with two +rearrangements of the lines (in stt. 4 and 22) and a few obvious +corrections, as suggested by Hales, and Furnivall, and Child. The Folio +version was printed by Jamieson in his _Popular Ballads and Songs_. + +The Scotch version, _Gil Morrice_, was printed by Percy in the +_Reliques_ in preference to the version of his Folio. He notes that the +ballad 'has lately run through two editions in Scotland: the second was +printed at Glasgow in 1755.' Thanks to an advertisement prefixed to +these Scottish editions, sixteen additional verses were obtained and +added by Percy, who thought that they were 'perhaps after all only an +ingenious interpolation.' _Gil Morrice_ introduces 'Lord Barnard' in +place of 'John Steward,' adopted, perhaps, from _Little Musgrave and +Lady Barnard_. Motherwell's versions were variously called _Child +Noryce_, _Bob Norice_, _Gill Morice_, _Chield Morice_. Certainly the +Folio ballad is unsurpassed for its vigorous, objective style, and +forcible, vivid pictures. + ++The Story+ of this ballad gave rise to Home's _Douglas_, a tragedy, +produced in the Concert Hall, Canongate, Edinburgh, 1756 (on which +occasion the heroine's name was given as 'Lady Barnard'), and +transferred to Covent Garden Theatre, in London, in 1757, the heroine's +name being altered to 'Lady Randolph.' + +Perhaps in the same year in which the play was produced in London, the +poet Gray wrote from Cambridge:-- 'I have got the old Scotch ballad on +which _Douglas_ was founded; it is divine, and as long as from hence to +Aston. Aristotle's best rules are observed in it in a manner which shows +the author never had heard of Aristotle. It begins in the fifth act of +the play. You may read it two-thirds through without guessing what it is +about; and yet, when you come to the end, it is impossible not to +understand the whole story.' + + +CHILD MAURICE + + 1. + Child Maurice hunted ithe siluer wood, + He hunted itt round about, + And noebodye that he ffound therin, + Nor none there was with-out. + + 2. + ... ... ... + ... ... ... + And he tooke his siluer combe in his hand, + To kembe his yellow lockes. + + 3. + He sayes, 'Come hither, thou litle ffoot-page, + That runneth lowlye by my knee, + Ffor thou shalt goe to Iohn Stewards wiffe + And pray her speake with mee. + + 4. + ... ... ... + ... ... ... + I, and greete thou doe that ladye well, + Euer soe well ffroe mee. + + 5. + 'And, as itt ffalls, as many times + As knotts beene knitt on a kell, + Or marchant men gone to leeue London + Either to buy ware or sell; + + 6. + 'And, as itt ffalles, as many times + As any hart can thinke, + Or schoole-masters are in any schoole-house + Writting with pen and inke: + Ffor if I might, as well as shee may, + This night I wold with her speake. + + 7. + 'And heere I send her a mantle of greene, + As greene as any grasse, + And bid her come to the siluer wood, + To hunt with Child Maurice. + + 8. + 'And there I send her a ring of gold, + A ring of precyous stone, + And bidd her come to the siluer wood, + Let ffor no kind of man.' + + 9. + One while this litle boy he yode, + Another while he ran, + Vntill he came to Iohn Stewards hall, + I-wis he never blan. + + 10. + And of nurture the child had good, + Hee ran vp hall and bower ffree, + And when he came to this lady ffaire, + Sayes, 'God you saue and see! + + 11. + 'I am come ffrom Child Maurice, + A message vnto thee; + And Child Maurice, he greetes you well, + And euer soe well ffrom mee; + + 12. + 'And, as itt ffalls, as oftentimes + As knotts beene knitt on a kell, + Or marchant-men gone to leeue London + Either ffor to buy ware or sell; + + 13. + 'And as oftentimes he greetes you well + As any hart can thinke, + Or schoolemasters are in any schoole, + Wryting with pen and inke. + + 14. + 'And heere he sends a mantle of greene, + As greene as any grasse, + And he bidds you come to the siluer wood, + To hunt with Child Maurice. + + 15. + 'And heere he sends you a ring of gold, + A ring of the precyous stone; + He prayes you to come to the siluer wood, + Let ffor no kind of man.' + + 16. + 'Now peace, now peace, thou litle ffoot-page, + Ffor Christes sake, I pray thee! + Ffor if my lord heare one of these words, + Thou must be hanged hye!' + + 17. + Iohn Steward stood vnder the castle-wall, + And he wrote the words euerye one, + ... ... ... + ... ... ... + + 18. + And he called vnto his hors-keeper, + 'Make readye you my steede!' + I, and soe he did to his chamberlaine, + 'Make readye thou my weede!' + + 19. + And he cast a lease vpon his backe, + And he rode to the siluer wood, + And there he sought all about, + About the siluer wood. + + 20. + And there he ffound him Child Maurice + Sitting vpon a blocke, + With a siluer combe in his hand, + Kembing his yellow locke. + + ... ... ... + + 21. + But then stood vp him Child Maurice, + And sayd these words trulye: + 'I doe not know your ladye,' he said, + 'If that I doe her see.' + + 22. + He sayes, 'How now, how now, Child Maurice? + Alacke, how may this bee? + Ffor thou hast sent her loue-tokens, + More now then two or three; + + 23. + 'Ffor thou hast sent her a mantle of greene, + As greene as any grasse, + And bade her come to the siluer woode + To hunt with Child Maurice. + + 24. + 'And thou [hast] sent her a ring of gold, + A ring of precyous stone, + And bade her come to the siluer wood, + Let ffor noe kind of man. + + 25. + 'And by my ffaith, now, Child Maurice, + The tone of vs shall dye!' + 'Now be my troth,' sayd Child Maurice, + 'And that shall not be I.' + + 26. + But hee pulled forth a bright browne sword, + And dryed itt on the grasse, + And soe ffast he smote att Iohn Steward, + I-wisse he neuer rest. + + 27. + Then hee pulled fforth his bright browne sword, + And dryed itt on his sleeue, + And the ffirst good stroke Iohn Stewart stroke, + Child Maurice head he did cleeue. + + 28. + And he pricked itt on his swords poynt, + Went singing there beside, + And he rode till he came to that ladye ffaire, + Wheras this ladye lyed. + + 29. + And sayes, 'Dost thou know Child Maurice head, + If that thou dost itt see? + And lap itt soft, and kisse itt oft, + For thou louedst him better than mee.' + + 30. + But when shee looked on Child Maurice head, + She neuer spake words but three: + 'I neuer beare no child but one, + And you haue slaine him trulye.' + + 31. + Sayes, 'Wicked be my merrymen all, + I gaue meate, drinke, and clothe! + But cold they not haue holden me + When I was in all that wrath! + + 32. + 'Ffor I haue slaine one of the curteousest knights + That euer bestrode a steed, + Soe haue I done one [of] the fairest ladyes + That euer ware womans weede!' + + + [Annotations: + 1.1: 'siluer': the Folio gives _siluen_. + 4.3,4: These lines in the Folio precede st. 6. + 5.2: _i.e._ as many times as there are knots knit in a net for the + hair; cf. French _cale_. + 5.3: 'leeue,' lovely. + 8.4: 'Let,' fail: it is the infinitive, governed by 'bidd.' + 9.1: 'yode,' went. + 9.4: 'blan,' lingered. + 13.3: 'are': omitted in the Folio. + 18.3: 'I,' aye. + 19.1: 'lease,' leash, thong, string: perhaps for bringing back any + game he might kill. + After 20 at least one verse is lost. + 22.1,2: In the Folio these lines precede 21.1,2. + 24.1: 'hast' omitted in the Folio. + 25.2: 'tone,' the one (or other).] + + + + +FAUSE FOOTRAGE + + ++The Text+ is from Alexander Fraser Tytler's Brown MS., which was also +the source of Scott's version in the _Minstrelsy_. One line (31.1), +closely resembling a line in Lady Wardlaw's forged ballad _Hardyknute_, +caused Sir Walter to investigate strictly the authenticity of the +ballad, but the evidence of Lady Douglas, that she had learned the +ballad in her childhood, and could still repeat much of it, removed his +doubts. It is, however, quite possible, as Professor Child points out, +'that Mrs. Brown may unconsciously have adopted this verse from the +tiresome and affected _Hardyknute_, so much esteemed in her day.' + ++The Story.+--In _The Complaynt of Scotlande_ (1549) there is mentioned +a tale 'how the King of Estmure Land married the King's daughter of +Westmure Land,' and it has been suggested that there is a connection +with the ballad. + +This is another of the ballads of which the English form has become so +far corrupted that we have to seek its Scandinavian counterpart to +obtain the full form of the story. The ballad is especially popular in +Denmark, where it is found in twenty-three manuscripts, as follows:-- + +The rich Svend wooes Lisbet, who favours William for his good qualities. +Svend, ill with grief, is well-advised by his mother, not to care for a +plighted maid, and ill-advised by his sister, to kill William. Svend +takes the latter advice, and kills William. Forty weeks later, Lisbet +gives birth to a son, but Svend is told that the child is a girl. +Eighteen years later, the young William, sporting with a peasant, +quarrels with him; the peasant retorts, 'You had better avenge your +father's death.' Young William asks his mother who slew his father, and +she, thinking him too young to fight, counsels him to bring Svend to a +court. William charges him in the court with the murder of his father, +and says that no compensation has been offered. Not a penny shall be +paid, says Svend. William draws his sword, and slays him. + +Icelandic, Swedish, and Faeroee ballads tell a similar story. + + +FAUSE FOOTRAGE + + 1. + King Easter has courted her for her gowd, + King Wester for her fee; + King Honor for her lands sae braid, + And for her fair body. + + 2. + They had not been four months married, + As I have heard them tell, + Until the nobles of the land + Against them did rebel. + + 3. + And they cast kaivles them amang, + And kaivles them between; + And they cast kaivles them amang, + Wha shoud gae kill the king. + + 4. + O some said yea, and some said nay, + Their words did not agree; + Till up it gat him Fa'se Footrage, + And sware it shoud be he. + + 5. + When bells were rung, and mass was sung, + And a' man boon to bed, + King Honor and his gay ladie + In a hie chamer were laid. + + 6. + Then up it raise him Fa'se Footrage, + While a' were fast asleep, + And slew the porter in his lodge, + That watch and ward did keep. + + 7. + O four and twenty silver keys + Hang hie upon a pin, + And ay as a door he did unlock, + He has fasten'd it him behind. + + 8. + Then up it raise him King Honor, + Says, 'What means a' this din? + Now what's the matter, Fa'se Footrage, + Or wha was't loot you in?' + + 9. + 'O ye my errand well shall learn + Before that I depart'; + Then drew a knife baith lang and sharp + And pierced him thro' the heart. + + 10. + Then up it got the Queen hersell, + And fell low down on her knee: + 'O spare my life now, Fa'se Footrage! + For I never injured thee. + + 11. + 'O spare my life now, Fa'se Footrage! + Until I lighter be! + And see gin it be lad or lass, + King Honor has left me wi'.' + + 12. + 'O gin it be a lass,' he says, + 'Weel nursed she shall be; + But gin it be a lad-bairn, + He shall be hanged hie. + + 13. + 'I winna spare his tender age, + Nor yet his hie, hie kin; + But as soon as e'er he born is, + He shall mount the gallows-pin.' + + 14. + O four and twenty valiant knights + Were set the Queen to guard, + And four stood ay at her bower-door, + To keep baith watch and ward. + + 15. + But when the time drew till an end + That she should lighter be, + She cast about to find a wile + To set her body free. + + 16. + O she has birled these merry young men + Wi' strong beer and wi' wine, + Until she made them a' as drunk + As any wall-wood swine. + + 17. + 'O narrow, narrow is this window, + And big, big am I grown!' + Yet thro' the might of Our Ladie, + Out at it she has won. + + 18. + She wander'd up, she wander'd down, + She wander'd out and in; + And at last, into the very swines' stye, + The Queen brought forth a son. + + 19. + Then they cast kaivles them amang + Wha should gae seek the Queen; + And the kaivle fell upon Wise William, + And he's sent his wife for him. + + 20. + O when she saw Wise William's wife, + The Queen fell on her knee; + 'Win up, win up, madame,' she says, + 'What means this courtesie?' + + 21. + 'O out of this I winna rise, + Till a boon ye grant to me, + To change your lass for this lad-bairn, + King Honor left me wi'. + + 22. + 'And ye maun learn my gay gos-hawke + Well how to breast a steed; + And I shall learn your turtle-dow + As well to write and read. + + 23. + 'And ye maun learn my gay gos-hawke + To wield baith bow and brand; + And I sall learn your turtle-dow + To lay gowd wi' her hand. + + 24. + 'At kirk and market where we meet, + We dare nae mair avow + But--"Dame, how does my gay gose-hawk?" + "Madame, how does my dow?"' + + 25. + When days were gane, and years come on, + Wise William he thought long; + Out has he ta'en King Honor's son, + A hunting for to gang. + + 26. + It sae fell out at their hunting, + Upon a summer's day, + That they cam' by a fair castle, + Stood on a sunny brae. + + 27. + 'O dinna ye see that bonny castle + Wi' wa's and towers sae fair? + Gin ilka man had back his ain, + Of it you shoud be heir.' + + 28. + 'How I shoud be heir of that castle, + In sooth I canna see; + When it belongs to Fa'se Footrage, + And he's nae kin to me.' + + 29. + 'O gin ye shoud kill him Fa'se Footrage, + You woud do what is right; + For I wot he kill'd your father dear, + Ere ever you saw the light. + + 30. + 'Gin you shoud kill him Fa'se Footrage, + There is nae man durst you blame; + For he keeps your mother a prisoner, + And she dares no take you hame.' + + 31. + The boy stared wild like a gray gose-hawk, + Says, 'What may a' this mean?' + 'My boy, you are King Honor's son, + And your mother's our lawful queen.' + + 32. + 'O gin I be King Honor's son, + By Our Ladie I swear, + This day I will that traytour slay, + And relieve my mother dear!' + + 33. + He has set his bent bow till his breast, + And lap the castle-wa'; + And soon he's siesed on Fa'se Footrage, + Wha loud for help gan ca'. + + 34. + 'O haud your tongue now, Fa'se Footrage, + Frae me ye shanno flee.' + Syne pierced him through the foul fa'se heart, + And set his mother free. + + 35. + And he has rewarded Wise William + Wi' the best half of his land; + And sae has he the turtle dow + Wi' the truth o' his right hand. + + + [Annotations: + 3.1: 'kaivles,' lots. + 13.4: 'gallows-pin,' the projecting beam of the gallows. + 16.1: 'birled,' plied. + 16.4: 'wallwood,' wild wood: a conventional ballad-phrase. + 25.2: A stock ballad-phrase. + 33.1: A ballad conventionality.] + + + + +FAIR ANNIE OF ROUGH ROYAL + + 'Ouvre ta port', Germin', c'est moi qu'est ton mari.' + 'Donnez-moi des indic's de la premiere nuit, + Et par la je croirai que vous et's mon mari.' + + --_Germaine._ + + ++The Text+ is Fraser Tytler's, taken down from the recitation of Mrs. +Brown in 1800, who had previously (1783) recited a similar version to +Jamieson. The later recitation, which was used by Scott, with others, +seems to contain certain improvisations of Mrs. Brown's which do not +appear in the earlier form. + ++The Story.+--A mother, who feigns to be her own son and demands tokens +of the girl outside the gate, turns her son's love away, and is cursed +by him. Similar ballads exist in France, Germany, and Greece. + +There is an early eighteenth-century MS. (Elizabeth Cochrane's +_Song-Book_) of this ballad, which gives a preliminary history. Isabel +of Rochroyal dreams of her love Gregory; she rises up, calls for a swift +steed, and rides forth till she meets a company. They ask her who she +is, and are told that she is 'Fair Isabel of Rochroyal,' seeking her +true-love Gregory. They direct her to 'yon castle'; and thenceforth the +tale proceeds much as in the other versions. + +'Lochryan,' says Scott, 'lies in Galloway; Roch--or Rough--royal, I have +not found, but there is a Rough castle in Stirlingshire' (Child). + + +FAIR ANNIE OF ROUGH ROYAL + + 1. + 'O wha will shoe my fu' fair foot? + And wha will glove my hand? + And wha will lace my middle jimp, + Wi' the new-made London band? + + 2. + 'And wha will kaim my yellow hair, + Wi' the new-made silver kaim? + And wha will father my young son, + Till Love Gregor come hame?' + + 3. + 'Your father will shoe your fu' fair foot, + Your mother will glove your hand; + Your sister will lace your middle jimp + Wi' the new-made London band. + + 4. + 'Your brother will kaim your yellow hair, + Wi' the new-made silver kaim; + And the king of heaven will father your bairn, + Till Love Gregor come haim.' + + 5. + 'But I will get a bonny boat, + And I will sail the sea, + For I maun gang to Love Gregor, + Since he canno come hame to me.' + + 6. + O she has gotten a bonny boat, + And sail'd the sa't sea fame; + She lang'd to see her ain true-love, + Since he could no come hame. + + 7. + 'O row your boat, my mariners, + And bring me to the land, + For yonder I see my love's castle, + Closs by the sa't sea strand.' + + 8. + She has ta'en her young son in her arms, + And to the door she's gone, + And lang she's knock'd and sair she ca'd, + But answer got she none. + + 9. + 'O open the door, Love Gregor,' she says, + 'O open, and let me in; + For the wind blaws thro' my yellow hair, + And the rain draps o'er my chin.' + + 10. + 'Awa', awa', ye ill woman, + You 'r nae come here for good; + You 'r but some witch, or wile warlock, + Or mer-maid of the flood.' + + 11. + 'I am neither a witch nor a wile warlock, + Nor mer-maid of the sea, + I am Fair Annie of Rough Royal; + O open the door to me.' + + 12. + 'Gin ye be Annie of Rough Royal-- + And I trust ye are not she-- + Now tell me some of the love-tokens + That past between you and me.' + + 13. + 'O dinna you mind now, Love Gregor, + When we sat at the wine, + How we changed the rings frae our fingers? + And I can show thee thine. + + 14. + 'O yours was good, and good enneugh, + But ay the best was mine; + For yours was o' the good red goud, + But mine o' the dimonds fine. + + 15. + 'But open the door now, Love Gregor, + O open the door I pray, + For your young son that is in my arms + Will be dead ere it be day.' + + 16. + 'Awa', awa', ye ill woman, + For here ye shanno win in; + Gae drown ye in the raging sea, + Or hang on the gallows-pin.' + + 17. + When the cock had crawn, and day did dawn, + And the sun began to peep, + Then it raise him Love Gregor, + And sair, sair did he weep. + + 18. + 'O I dream'd a dream, my mother dear, + The thoughts o' it gars me greet, + That Fair Annie of Rough Royal + Lay cauld dead at my feet.' + + 19. + 'Gin it be for Annie of Rough Royal + That ye make a' this din, + She stood a' last night at this door, + But I trow she wan no in.' + + 20. + 'O wae betide ye, ill woman, + An ill dead may ye die! + That ye woudno open the door to her, + Nor yet woud waken me.' + + 21. + O he has gone down to yon shore-side, + As fast as he could fare; + He saw Fair Annie in her boat + But the wind it toss'd her sair. + + 22. + And 'Hey, Annie!' and 'How, Annie! + O Annie, winna ye bide?' + But ay the mair that he cried 'Annie,' + The braider grew the tide. + + 23. + And 'Hey, Annie!' and 'How, Annie! + Dear Annie, speak to me!' + But ay the louder he cried 'Annie,' + The louder roar'd the sea. + + 24. + The wind blew loud, the sea grew rough, + And dash'd the boat on shore; + Fair Annie floats on the raging sea, + But her young son raise no more. + + 25. + Love Gregor tare his yellow hair, + And made a heavy moan; + Fair Annie's corpse lay at his feet, + But his bonny young son was gone. + + 26. + O cherry, cherry was her cheek, + And gowden was her hair, + But clay cold were her rosey lips, + Nae spark of life was there. + + 27. + And first he's kiss'd her cherry cheek, + And neist he's kissed her chin; + And saftly press'd her rosey lips, + But there was nae breath within. + + 28. + 'O wae betide my cruel mother, + And an ill dead may she die! + For she turn'd my true-love frae the door, + When she came sae far to me.' + + + [Annotations: + 10.3: 'warlock,' wizard, magician. + 18.2: 'gars me greet,' makes me weep.] + + + + +HIND HORN + + ++The Text+ is from Motherwell's MS., written from the recitation of a +Mrs. King of Kilbarchan. + ++The Story+ of the ballad is a mere remnant of the story told in the +Gest of King Horn, preserved in three manuscripts, the oldest of which +belongs to the thirteenth century. Similar stories are given in a French +romance of the fourteenth century, and an English manuscript of the same +date. The complete story in the Gest may be condensed as follows:-- + +Horn, son of Murry, King of Suddenne, was captured by Saracens, who +killed his father, and turned him and his twelve companions adrift in a +boat, which was eventually beached safely on the coast of Westerness, +and Ailmar the king took them in and brought them up. Rymenhild his +daughter, falling in love with Horn, offered herself to him. He refused, +unless she would make the king knight him. She did so, and again claimed +his love; but he said he must first prove his knighthood. She gave him a +ring set with stones, such that he could never be slain if he looked on +it and thought of her. His first feat was the slaying of a hundred +heathens; then he returned to Rymenhild. Meanwhile, however, one of his +companions had told the king that Horn meant to kill him and wed his +daughter. Ailmar ordered Horn to quit his court; and Horn, having told +Rymenhild that if he did not come back in seven years she might marry +another, sailed to the court of King Thurston in Ireland, where he +stayed for seven years, performing feats of valour with the aid of +Rymenhild's ring. + +At the end of the allotted time, Rymenhild was to be married to King +Modi of Reynis. Horn, hearing of this, went back to Westerness, arrived +on the marriage-morn, met a palmer (the old beggar man of the ballad), +changed clothes with him, and entered the hall. According to custom, +Rymenhild served wine to the guests, and as Horn drank, he dropped her +ring into the vessel. When she discovered it, she sent for the palmer, +and questioned him. He said Horn had died on the voyage thither. +Rymenhild seized a knife she had hidden to kill King Modi and herself if +Horn came not, and set it to her breast. The palmer threw off his +disguise, saying, 'I am Horn.' Still he would not wed her till he had +regained his father's kingdom of Suddenne, and went away and did so. +Meanwhile a false friend seized Rymenhild; but on the marriage-day Horn +returned, killed him, and finally made Rymenhild his wife and Queen of +Suddenne. + +Compare the story of Torello and the Saladin in the _Decameron_, Tenth +Day, Novel 9. + + +HIND HORN + + 1. + In Scotland there was a babie born, + _Lill lal, etc._ + And his name it was called young Hind Horn, + _With a fal lal, etc._ + + 2. + He sent a letter to our king + That he was in love with his daughter Jean.[A] + + ... ... ... + + 3. + He's gi'en to her a silver wand, + With seven living lavrocks sitting thereon. + + 4. + She's gi'en to him a diamond ring, + With seven bright diamonds set therein. + + 5. + 'When this ring grows pale and wan, + You may know by it my love is gane.' + + 6. + One day as he looked his ring upon, + He saw the diamonds pale and wan. + + 7. + He left the sea and came to land, + And the first that he met was an old beggar man. + + 8. + 'What news, what news?' said young Hind Horn; + 'No news, no news,' said the old beggar man. + + 9. + 'No news,' said the beggar, 'no news at a', + But there is a wedding in the king's ha'. + + 10. + 'But there is a wedding in the king's ha', + That has halden these forty days and twa.' + + 11. + 'Will ye lend me your begging coat? + And I'll lend you my scarlet cloak. + + 12. + 'Will you lend me your beggar's rung? + And I'll gi'e you my steed to ride upon. + + 13. + 'Will you lend me your wig o' hair, + To cover mine, because it is fair?' + + 14. + The auld beggar man was bound for the mill, + But young Hind Horn for the king's hall. + + 15. + The auld beggar man was bound for to ride, + But young Hind Horn was bound for the bride. + + 16. + When he came to the king's gate, + He sought a drink for Hind Horn's sake. + + 17. + The bride came down with a glass of wine, + When he drank out the glass, and dropt in the ring. + + 18. + 'O got ye this by sea or land? + Or got ye it off a dead man's hand?' + + 19. + 'I got not it by sea, I got it by land, + And I got it, madam, out of your own hand.' + + 20. + 'O I'll cast off my gowns of brown, + And beg wi' you frae town to town. + + 21. + 'O I'll cast off my gowns of red, + And I'll beg wi' you to win my bread.' + + 22. + 'Ye needna cast off your gowns of brown, + For I'll make you lady o' many a town. + + 23. + 'Ye needna cast off your gowns of red, + It's only a sham, the begging o' my bread.' + + 24. + The bridegroom he had wedded the bride, + But young Hind Horn he took her to bed. + + [Footnote A: After stanza 2 there is a gap in the story. Other + versions say that Hind Horn goes, or is sent, to sea.] + + + [Annotations: + 10.2: The bride has lingered six weeks in hopes of Hind Horn's return. + 12.1: 'rung,' staff.] + + + + +EDWARD + + ++The Text+ is that given by Percy in the _Reliques_ (1765), with the +substitution of _w_ for initial _qu_, and _y_ for initial _z_, as in +_Young Waters_ (see p. 146). In the fourth edition of the _Reliques_ +Percy states that 'this curious song was transmitted to the editor by +Sir David Dalrymple, Bart., late Lord Hailes.' + +Percy's adoption of antique spelling in this ballad has caused some +doubt to be thrown on its authenticity; but there is also a version _Son +Davie_, given in his _Minstrelsy_ by Motherwell, who, in referring to +the version in the _Reliques_, said there was reason for believing that +Lord Hailes 'made a few slight verbal improvements in the copy he +transmitted, and altered the hero's name to Edward, a name which, by the +bye, never occurs in a Scottish ballad except where allusion is made to +an English king.' + ++The Story+ has a close parallel in Swedish, the form of the ballad +remaining in dialogue. + +Motherwell points out that the verses of which _Edward_ consists +generally form the conclusion of the ballad of _The Twa Brothers_, and +also of certain versions of _Lizie Wan_; and is inclined to regard +_Edward_ as detached from one of those ballads. More probably the +reverse is the case, that the story of _Edward_ has been attached to the +other ballads. + +The present version of the ballad exhibits an unusual amplification of +the refrain. The story is told in two lines of each eight-lined stanza; +but the lyrical effect added by the elaborate refrain is almost unique. + + +EDWARD + + 1. + 'Why dois your brand sae drap wi' bluid, + Edward, Edward? + Why dois your brand sae drap wi' bluid, + And why sae sad gang yee, O?' + 'O, I hae killed my hauke sae guid, + Mither, mither: + O, I hae killed my hauke sae guid, + And I had nae mair bot hee, O.' + + 2. + 'Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid, + Edward, Edward. + Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid, + My deir son I tell thee, O.' + 'O, I hae killed my reid-roan steid, + Mither, mither: + O, I hae killed my reid-roan steid, + That erst was sae fair and frie, O.' + + 3. + 'Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair, + Edward, Edward: + Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair, + Sum other dule ye drie, O.' + 'O, I hae killed my fadir deir, + Mither, mither: + O, I hae killed my fadir deir, + Alas! and wae is mee, O!' + + 4. + 'And whatten penance wul ye drie for that, + Edward, Edward? + And whatten penance will ye drie for that. + My deir son, now tell me, O, + 'Ile set my feit in yonder boat, + Mither, mither: + Ile set my feit in yonder boat, + And Ile fare ovir the sea, O.' + + 5. + 'And what wul ye doe wi' your towirs and your ha', + Edward, Edward? + And what wul ye doe wi' your towirs and your ha', + That were sae fair to see, O?' + 'Ile let thame stand tul they doun fa', + Mither, mither: + Ile let thame stand tul they doun fa', + For here nevir mair maun I bee, O.' + + 6. + 'And what wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife, + Edward, Edward? + And what wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife, + Whan ye gang ovir the sea, O?' + 'The warldis room, late them beg thrae life, + Mither, mither: + The warldis room, let them beg thrae life, + For thame nevir mair wul I see, O.' + + 7. + 'And what wul ye leive to your ain mither deir, + Edward, Edward? + And what wul ye leive to your ain mither deir? + My deir son, now tell me, O.' + 'The curse of hell frae me sall ye beir, + Mither, mither: + The curse of hell frae me sall ye beir, + Sic counseils ye gave to me, O.' + + + [Annotations: + 3.4: 'dule,' grief; 'drie,' suffer. + 6.5,7: _i.e._ The world is wide.] + + + + +LORD RANDAL + + ++The Text+ is from Scott's _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_ (1803). +Other forms give the name as _Lord Ronald_, but Scott retains _Randal_ +on the supposition that the ballad originated in the death of 'Thomas +Randolph, or Randal, Earl of Murray, nephew to Robert Bruce, and +governor of Scotland,' who died at Musselburgh in 1332. + ++The Story+ of the ballad is found in Italian tradition nearly three +hundred years ago, and also occurs in Dutch, German, Swedish, Danish, +Magyar, Wendish, etc. + +Certain variants of the ballad bear the title of _The Croodlin Doo_, and +the 'handsome young man' is changed for a child, and the poisoner is the +child's step-mother. Scott suggests that this change was made 'to excite +greater interest in the nursery.' In nearly all forms of the ballad, the +poisoning is done by the substitution of snakes ('eels') for fish, a +common method amongst the ancients of administering poison. + +Child gives a collation of seven versions secured in America of late +years, in each of which the name of Lord Randal has become corrupted to +'Tiranti.' + +The antiphonetic form of the ballad is popular, as being dramatic and +suitable for singing. Compare _Edward_, also a dialogue between mother +and son. + + +LORD RANDAL + + 1. + 'O where hae ye been, Lord Randal, my son? + O where hae ye been, my handsome young man?' + 'I hae been to the wild wood; mother, make my bed soon, + For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down.' + + 2. + 'Where gat ye your dinner, Lord Randal, my son? + Where gat ye your dinner, my handsome young man?' + 'I din'd wi' my true-love; mother, make my bed soon, + For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down.' + + 3. + 'What gat ye to your dinner, Lord Randal, my son? + What gat ye to your dinner, my handsome young man?' + 'I gat eels boil'd in broo'; mother, make my bed soon, + For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down.' + + 4. + 'What became of your bloodhounds, Lord Randal, my son? + What became of your bloodhounds, my handsome young man?' + 'O they swell'd and they died; mother, make my bed soon, + For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down.' + + 5. + 'O I fear ye are poison'd, Lord Randal, my son! + O I fear ye are poison'd, my handsome young man!' + 'O yes, I am poison'd; mother, make my bed soon, + For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wald lie down.' + + + [Annotations: + 3.3: 'broo',' broth.] + + + + +LAMKIN + + ++The Text+ is from Jamieson's _Popular Ballads_. He obtained it from +Mrs. Brown. It is by far the best version of a score or so in existence. +The name of the hero varies from Lamkin, Lankin, Lonkin, etc., to Rankin +and Balcanqual. I have been informed by Andrew McDowall, Esq., of an +incomplete version in which Lamkin's name has become 'Bold Hang'em.' + +Finlay (_Scottish Ballads_) remarks:-- 'All reciters agree that +Lammikin, or Lambkin, is not the name of the hero, but merely an +epithet.' + ++The Story+ varies little throughout all the versions, though in some, +as in one known to Percy, it lacks much of the detail here given. + + +LAMKIN + + 1. + It's Lamkin was a mason good + As ever built wi' stane; + He built Lord Wearie's castle, + But payment got he nane. + + 2. + 'O pay me, Lord Wearie, + Come, pay me my fee': + 'I canna pay you, Lamkin, + For I maun gang o'er the sea.' + + 3. + 'O pay me now, Lord Wearie, + Come, pay me out o' hand': + 'I canna pay you, Lamkin, + Unless I sell my land.' + + 4. + 'O gin ye winna pay me, + I here sail mak' a vow, + Before that ye come hame again, + Ye sall hae cause to rue.' + + 5. + Lord Wearie got a bonny ship, + To sail the saut sea faem; + Bade his lady weel the castle keep, + Ay till he should come hame. + + 6. + But the nourice was a fause limmer + As e'er hung on a tree; + She laid a plot wi' Lamkin, + Whan her lord was o'er the sea. + + 7. + She laid a plot wi' Lamkin, + When the servants were awa', + Loot him in at a little shot-window, + And brought him to the ha'. + + 8. + 'O whare's a' the men o' this house, + That ca' me Lamkin?' + 'They're at the barn-well thrashing; + 'Twill be lang ere they come in.' + + 9. + 'And whare's the women o' this house, + That ca' me Lamkin?' + 'They're at the far well washing; + 'Twill be lang ere they come in.' + + 10. + 'And whare's the bairns o' this house, + That ca' me Lamkin?' + 'They're at the school reading; + 'Twill be night or they come hame.' + + 11. + 'O whare's the lady o' this house, + That ca's me Lamkin?' + 'She's up in her bower sewing, + But we soon can bring her down.' + + 12. + Then Lamkin's tane a sharp knife, + That hung down by his gaire, + And he has gi'en the bonny babe + A deep wound and a sair. + + 13. + Then Lamkin he rocked, + And the fause nourice sang, + Till frae ilkae bore o' the cradle + The red blood out sprang. + + 14. + Then out it spak' the lady, + As she stood on the stair: + 'What ails my bairn, nourice, + That he's greeting sae sair? + + 15. + 'O still my bairn, nourice, + O still him wi' the pap!' + 'He winna still, lady, + For this nor for that.' + + 16. + 'O still my bairn, nourice, + O still him wi' the wand!' + 'He winna still, lady, + For a' his father's land.' + + 17. + 'O still my bairn, nourice, + O still him wi' the bell!' + 'He winna still, lady, + Till ye come down yoursel'.' + + 18. + O the firsten step she steppit, + She steppit on a stane; + But the neisten step she steppit, + She met him Lamkin. + + 19. + 'O mercy, mercy, Lamkin, + Hae mercy upon me! + Though you've ta'en my young son's life, + Ye may let mysel' be.' + + 20. + 'O sall I kill her, nourice, + Or sall I lat her be?' + 'O kill her, kill her, Lamkin, + For she ne'er was good to me.' + + 21. + 'O scour the bason, nourice, + And mak' it fair and clean, + For to keep this lady's heart's blood, + For she's come o' noble kin.' + + 22. + 'There need nae bason, Lamkin, + Lat it run through the floor; + What better is the heart's blood + O' the rich than o' the poor?' + + 23. + But ere three months were at an end, + Lord Wearie came again; + But dowie, dowie was his heart + When first he came hame. + + 24. + 'O wha's blood is this,' he says, + 'That lies in the chamer?' + 'It is your lady's heart's blood; + 'T is as clear as the lamer.' + + 25. + 'And wha's blood is this,' he says, + 'That lies in my ha'?' + 'It is your young son's heart's blood; + 'Tis the clearest ava.' + + 26. + O sweetly sang the black-bird + That sat upon the tree; + But sairer grat Lamkin, + When he was condemn'd to die. + + 27. + And bonny sang the mavis + Out o' the thorny brake; + But sairer grat the nourice, + When she was tied to the stake. + + + [Annotations: + 6.1: 'limmer,' wretch, rascal. + 7.3: 'shot-window': see special section of the Introduction. + 12.2: 'gaire'; _i.e._ by his knee: see special section of the + Introduction. + 13.3: 'bore,' hole, crevice. + 14.4: 'greeting,' crying. + 23.3: 'dowie,' sad. + 24.2: 'chamer,' chamber. + 24.4: 'lamer,' amber. + 25.4: 'ava,' at all. + 26.3: 'grat,' greeted, wept.] + + + + +FAIR MARY OF WALLINGTON + + ++The Text+ is from _Lovely Jenny's Garland_, as given with emendations +by Professor Child. There is also a curiously perverted version in +Herd's manuscript, in which the verses require rearrangement before +becoming intelligible. + ++The Story+ can be gathered from the version here given without much +difficulty. It turns on the marriage of Fair Mary, who is one of seven +sisters fated to die of their first child. Fair Mary seems to be a +fatalist, and, after vowing never to marry, accepts as her destiny the +hand of Sir William Fenwick of Wallington. Three-quarters of a year +later she sends to fair Pudlington for her mother. Her mother is much +affected at the news (st. 22), and goes to Wallington. Her daughter, in +travail, lays the blame on her, cuts open her side to give birth to an +heir, and dies. + +In a Breton ballad Pontplancoat thrice marries a Marguerite, and each of +his three sons costs his mother her life. + +In the Scottish ballad, a 'scope' is put in Mary's mouth when the +operation takes place. In the Breton ballad it is a silver spoon or a +silver ball. 'Scope,' or 'scobs' as it appears in Herd, means a gag, and +was apparently used to prevent her from crying out. But the silver spoon +and ball in the Breton ballad would appear to have been used for +Marguerite to bite on in her anguish, just as sailors chewed bullets +while being flogged. + + +FAIR MARY OF WALLINGTON + + 1. + When we were silly sisters seven, + Sisters were so fair, + Five of us were brave knights' wives, + And died in childbed lair. + + 2. + Up then spake Fair Mary, + Marry woud she nane; + If ever she came in man's bed, + The same gate wad she gang. + + 3. + 'Make no vows, Fair Mary, + For fear they broken be; + Here's been the Knight of Wallington, + Asking good will of thee.' + + 4. + 'If here's been the knight, mother, + Asking good will of me, + Within three quarters of a year + You may come bury me.' + + 5. + When she came to Wallington, + And into Wallington hall, + There she spy'd her mother dear, + Walking about the wall. + + 6. + 'You're welcome, daughter dear, + To thy castle and thy bowers'; + 'I thank you kindly, mother, + I hope they'll soon be yours.' + + 7. + She had not been in Wallington + Three quarters and a day, + Till upon the ground she could not walk, + She was a weary prey. + + 8. + She had not been in Wallington + Three quarters and a night, + Till on the ground she coud not walk, + She was a weary wight. + + 9. + 'Is there ne'er a boy in this town, + Who'll win hose and shun, + That will run to fair Pudlington, + And bid my mother come?' + + 10. + Up then spake a little boy, + Near unto a-kin; + 'Full oft I have your errands gone, + But now I will it run.' + + 11. + Then she call'd her waiting-maid + To bring up bread and wine; + 'Eat and drink, my bonny boy, + Thou'll ne'er eat more of mine. + + 12. + 'Give my respects to my mother, + She sits in her chair of stone, + And ask her how she likes the news, + Of seven to have but one. + + 13. + 'Give my respects to my mother, + As she sits in her chair of oak, + And bid her come to my sickening, + Or my merry lake-wake. + + 14. + 'Give my love to my brother + William, Ralph, and John, + And to my sister Betty fair, + And to her white as bone: + + 15. + 'And bid her keep her maidenhead, + Be sure make much on 't, + For if e'er she come in man's bed, + The same gate will she gang.' + + 16. + Away this little boy is gone, + As fast as he could run; + When he came where brigs were broke, + He lay down and swum. + + 17. + When he saw the lady, he said, + 'Lord may your keeper be!' + 'What news, my pretty boy, + Hast thou to tell to me?' + + 18. + 'Your daughter Mary orders me, + As you sit in a chair of stone, + To ask you how you like the news, + Of seven to have but one. + + 19. + 'Your daughter gives commands, + As you sit in a chair of oak, + And bids you come to her sickening, + Or her merry lake-wake. + + 20. + 'She gives command to her brother + William, Ralph, and John, + [And] to her sister Betty fair, + And to her white as bone. + + 21. + 'She bids her keep her maidenhead, + Be sure make much on 't, + For if e'er she came in man's bed, + The same gate woud she gang.' + + 22. + She kickt the table with her foot, + She kickt it with her knee, + The silver plate into the fire, + So far she made it flee. + + 23. + Then she call'd her waiting-maid + To bring her riding-hood, + So did she on her stable-groom + To bring her riding-steed. + + 24. + 'Go saddle to me the black, [the black,] + Go saddle to me the brown, + Go saddle to me the swiftest steed + That e'er rid [to] Wallington.' + + 25. + When they came to Wallington, + And into Wallington hall, + There she spy'd her son Fenwick, + Walking about the wall. + + 26. + 'God save you, dear son, + Lord may your keeper be! + Where is my daughter fair, + That used to walk with thee?' + + 27. + He turn'd his head round about, + The tears did fill his e'e: + ''Tis a month' he said, 'since she + Took her chambers from me.' + + 28. + She went on . . . + And there were in the hall + Four and twenty ladies, + Letting the tears down fall. + + 29. + Her daughter had a scope + Into her cheek and into her chin, + All to keep her life + Till her dear mother came. + + 30. + 'Come take the rings off my fingers, + The skin it is so white, + And give them to my mother dear, + For she was all the wite. + + 31. + 'Come take the rings off my fingers, + The veins they are so red, + Give them to Sir William Fenwick, + I'm sure his heart will bleed.' + + 32. + She took out a razor + That was both sharp and fine, + And out of her left side has taken + The heir of Wallington. + + 33. + There is a race in Wallington, + And that I rue full sare; + Tho' the cradle it be full spread up + The bride-bed is left bare. + + + [Annotations: + 1.1: 'silly,' simple. + 1.4: 'lair,' lying-in. + 2.4: 'gate,' way. + 5.3: 'her mother' is, of course, her mother-in-law. + 9.2: 'shun' = shoon, shoes. + 13: This stanza is not in the original, but is supplied from the boy's + repetition, st. 19. + 13.4: 'lake-wake' = lyke-wake: watching by a corpse. + 22: This, in ballads, is a customary method of giving expression to + strong emotion. + 29.1: 'scope,' a gag. + 30.4: 'wite,' blame: _i.e._ her mother was the cause of all her + trouble.] + + + + +END OF THE FIRST SERIES + + + + +INDEX OF TITLES + + Page + + Barbara Allan 150 + Brown Adam 100 + Brown Robin 158 + + Child Maurice 165 + Child Waters 37 + + Earl Brand 44 + Edward 189 + + Fair Annie 29 + Fair Annie of Rough Royal 179 + Fair Janet 94 + Fair Margaret and Sweet William 63 + Fair Mary of Wallington 201 + Fause Footrage 172 + + Glasgerion 1 + + Hind Horn 185 + + Johney Scot 128 + + Lady Alice 163 + Lady Maisry 70 + Lamkin 196 + Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard 19 + Lord Ingram and Chiel Wyet 135 + Lord Lovel 67 + Lord Randal 193 + Lord Thomas and Fair Annet 54 + + Old Robin of Portingale 13 + + The Bonny Birdy 25 + The Boy and the Mantle 119 + The Brown Girl 60 + The Child of Ell 52 + The Cruel Brother 76 + The Cruel Mother 35 + The Douglas Tragedy 49 + The Gay Goshawk 153 + The Marriage of Sir Gawaine 107 + The Nutbrown Maid 80 + The Twa Sisters o' Binnorie 141 + + Willie o' Winsbury 104 + + Young Bekie 6 + Young Waters 146 + + + + +INDEX OF FIRST LINES + Page + + About Yule, when the wind blew cule 147 + As it fell one holy-day 19 + As it fell out on a long summer's day 63 + + Be it right, or wrong, these men among 81 + + Child Maurice hunted ithe siluer wood 166 + Childe Watters in his stable stoode 37 + + Glasgerion was a king's own son 2 + God! let neuer soe old a man 13 + + 'I am as brown as brown can be 60 + In Scotland there was a babie born 186 + In the third day of May 120 + It's Lamkin was a mason good 196 + 'It's narrow, narrow, make your bed 30 + It was in and about the Martinmas time 150 + + Kinge Arthur liues in merry Carleile 109 + King Easter has courted her for her gowd 173 + + Lady Alice was sitting in her bower-window 163 + Lord Ingram and Chiel Wyet 135 + Lord Lovel he stood at his castle-gate 68 + Lord Thomas and Fair Annet 54 + + O Johney was as brave a knight 129 + 'O well's me o' my gay goss-hawk 153 + 'O wha will shoe my fu' fair foot? 180 + O wha woud wish the win' to blaw 101 + 'O where hae ye been, Lord Randal, my son? 194 + 'Oh did ye ever hear o' brave Earl Bran'? 46 + + 'Rise up, rise up now, Lord Douglas,' she says 49 + + Sayes, 'Christ thee saue, good child of Ell 52 + She leaned her back unto a thorn 35 + + The king but an' his nobles a' 158 + The king he hath been a prisoner 104 + The young lords o' the north country 70 + There was a knight, in a summer's night 25 + There was three ladies play'd at the ba' 77 + There were twa sisters sat in a bour 141 + + When we were silly sisters seven 202 + 'Why dois your brand sae drap wi' bluid 190 + + 'Ye maun gang to your father, Janet 94 + Young Bekie was as brave a knight 7 + + + Printed by T. and A. Constable, Printers to His Majesty + at the Edinburgh University Press + + + * * * * * + * * * * + * * * * * + +Errata: + +Introduction: + +[Footnote 3: _Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard_ (see p. 19, etc.).] + _footnote marker missing from text_ +[Footnote 5: For the most recent discussions, see Bibliography, + p. lii.] + _footnote marker missing or invisible_ +carefully balanced antitheses, and all the mechanical devices + _text reads "aud"_ +Coleridge's _annus mirabilis_ was 1797 + _"Cole/ridge's" printed at line break without visible hyphen_ +his friend Humphrey Pitt of Shifnal, in Shropshire, + _text has extra close quote after "Shropshire,"_ +1794. _Joseph Ritson._ Scotish Song. 2 vols. London. + _spelling unchanged_ + +Ballads: + +The Douglas Tragedy + [Stanza 5.] + 'Light down, light down, Lady Margret,' he said, + _close quote after "Lady Margret," not visible_ + [Annotation to 8.3] + 'dighted,' dressed. + _reference "8.3" missing in text_ +Lord Lovel + [Introduction] + Of the former the commonest is _Der Ritter und die Maid_ + _spelling unchanged_ +Fair Annie of Rough Royal + [Introduction] + 'Lochryan,' says Scott, 'lies in Galloway; + _text has extra close quote after "Galloway"_ +Lord Randal + [Stanza 2.] + 'Where gat ye your dinner, Lord Randal, my son? + Where gat ye your dinner, my handsome young man?' + _text has empty line where "man?'" is expected_ + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Ballads of Romance and Chivalry, by Frank Sidgwick + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BALLADS OF ROMANCE AND CHIVALRY *** + +***** This file should be named 20469.txt or 20469.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/4/6/20469/ + +Produced by Louise Hope, Paul Murray and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.ne + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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