III. , Sc. 2; Dyce, viii, 436

In Father Merolla's Voyage to Congo, 1682, a reference to which I owe to Liebrecht, there is a story of a stewed cock, which, on the whole, justifies Luis de la Vega's scruple. This must have been introduced into Africa by some missioner, and, when so introduced, the miracle must have had an object, which it had lost before the tale came to Father Merolla.

One of two parties at feud having marched upon the chief city of his antagonist, and found all the inhabitants fled, the soldiers fell to rifling the houses and killing all the living creatures they met, to satisfy their hunger. "Amongst the rest they found a cock of a larger size than ordinary, with a great ring of iron about one of his legs, which occasioned one of the wisest among them to cry out, Surely this cock must be bewitched, and it is not at all proper for us to meddle with. To which the rest answered, Be it what it will, we are resolved to eat it. For this end they immediately killed and tore it to pieces after the manner of the negroes, and afterwards put it into a pot to boil. When it was enough, they took it out into a platter, and two, according to the custom, having said grace, five of them sat down to it with great greediness. But before they had touched a bit, to their great wonder and amazement, the boiled pieces of the cock, though sodden, and near dissolved, began to move about and unite into the form they were in before, and, being so united, the restored cock immediately raised himself up, and jumped out of the platter upon the ground, where he walked about as well as when he was first taken. Afterwards he leaped upon an adjoining wall, where he became new feathered all of a sudden, and then took his flight to a tree hard by, where fixing himself, he, after three claps of his wings, made a most hideous noise, and then disappeared. Every one may easily imagine what a terrible fright the spectators were in at this sight, who, leaping with a thousand Ave Marias in their mouths from the place where this had happened, were contented to observe most of the particulars at a distance." It appears that the brother of one of the two contending parties was said to have had a very large cock, from whose crowing he took auguries, but whether this was the same as the one restored to life is not known. Churchill's Collection of Voyages and Travels, 1704, I, 682, Pinkerton's Collection, XVI, 229.

[199] La Chevalerie Ogier de Danemarche, par Raimbert de Paris, Poëme du xii siècle, etc., II, 485, vv 11606-627.

[200] The gospel of Nicodemus was introduced into the French and the Italian romance of Perceforest, but unfortunately this "narratio ab inepto Græculo pessime interpolata" (Thilo) seems to be lacking.

[201] Cursor Mundi, a Northumbrian poem of the 14th century, in four versions, ed. by R. Morris, p. 912 f, vv 15961-998. This passage was kindly pointed out to me by Professor George Stephens.

[202] Rélation d'un Voyage fait au Levant par Monsieur De Thévenot, Paris, 1665, I, 502. Cited by Thilo, p. xxxvii, and by Victor Smith, Romania, II, 474, who adds: "Parmi les manuscrits rapportés d'Éthiopie par M. d'Abbadie, il se trouve un volume dont le titre a pour équivalent, Actes de la passion. Un chapitre de ce volume, intitulé Le livre du coq, développe la légende indiquée par Thévenot. Catalogue raisonné des manuscrits éthiopiens, appartenant à M. A. T. d'Abbadie, in 4^o, imp. impériale, Paris, 1859."

[203] "Ce couplet se débite en imitant successivement le chant du coq, le mugissement du bœuf, le cri de la chèvre, le braiment de l'âne, et le beuglement du veau." Bolza makes a similar explanation with regard to the Italian colloquy.

JUDAS

MS. B. 14, 39, of the thirteenth century, library of Trinity College, Cambridge, as printed in Wright & Halliwell's Reliquiæ Antiquæ, I, 144.

This legend, which has not been heretofore recognized as a ballad, is, so far as is known, unique in several particulars. The common tradition gives Judas an extraordinary domestic history,[204] but does not endow him with a sister as perfidious as himself. Neither is his selling his Master for thirty pieces accounted for elsewhere as it is here, if it may be strictly said to be accounted for here.

A popular explanation, founded upon John xii, 3-6, and current for six centuries and more, is that Judas, bearing the bag, was accustomed to take tithes of all moneys that came into his hands, and that he considered he had lost thirty pence on the precious ointment which had not been sold for three hundred pence, and took this way of indemnifying himself.

A Wendish ballad, Haupt und Schmaler, I, 276, No 284, has the following story. Jesus besought hospitality for himself and his disciples of a poor widow. She could give a lodging, but had no bread. Jesus said he would care for that, and asked which of his disciples would go and buy bread for thirty pieces of silver. Judas offered himself eagerly, and went to the Jews' street to do his errand. Jews were gaming, under a tub, and they challenged Judas to play. The first time he won the stake, and the second. The third time he lost everything. "Why so sad, Judas?" they say: "go sell your Master for thirty pieces." We are to suppose Judas to have rejoined his company. Jesus then asks who has sold him. John says, Is it I? and Peter, and then Judas, to whom Jesus replies, Thou knowest best. Judas, in remorse, runs to hang himself. The Lord bids him turn, for his sin is forgiven. But Judas keeps on till he comes to a fir: "Soft wood, thou fir, thou wilt not bear me." Further on, till he comes to an aspen. "Hard wood, thou aspen, thou wilt bear me." So he hanged himself on the aspen; and still the aspen shakes and trembles for fear of the judgment day.

According to the ballads, then, Judas lost the thirty pieces at play, or was robbed of them, with collusion of his sister. But his passionate behavior in the English ballad, st. 9, goes beyond all apparent occasion. Surely it was not for his tithe of the thirty pieces.

And why does he insist to Pilate on the very thirty pieces he had lost, rejecting every other form of payment? The ballad-singer might answer, So it was, and rest contented. Or perhaps he might have heard, and might tell us by way of comment, that these pieces had for long ages been destined to be "the price of him that was valued, whom they of the children of Israel did value;" had been coined by Abraham's father for Ninus, and been given by Terah to his son; had passed through various hands to the Ishmaelites, had been paid by them as the price of Joseph, and been repaid to Joseph by his brethren for corn in Egypt; thence were transferred to Sheba, and in the course of events were brought by the Queen of the South as an offering to Solomon's temple; when the temple was despoiled by Nebuchadnezzar, were given by him to the king of Godolia, and after the kingdom of Godolia had been fused in that of Nubia, were brought as his tribute to the infant Jesus by Melchior, king of the same, etc.[205]

It is much to be regretted that the manuscript from which this piece was taken has been for some years lost from Trinity College Library, so that a collation of Wright's text has not been possible.

1 Hit wes upon a Scere-thorsday that ure loverd aros; Ful milde were the wordes he spec to Judas.

2 'Judas, thou most to Jurselem, oure mete for to bugge; Thritti platen of selver thou bere up othi rugge.

3 'Thou comest fer ithe brode stret, fer ithe brode strete; Summe of thine tunesmen ther thou meiht imete.'

4 . . . . . . . Imette wid is soster, the swikele wimon.

5 'Judas, thou were wrthe me stende the wid ston, For the false prophete that tou bilevest upon.'

6 'Be stille, leve soster, thin herte the tobreke! Wiste min loverd Crist, ful wel he wolde be wreke.'

7 'Judas, go thou on the roc, heie upon the ston; Lei thin heved imy barm, slep thou the anon.'

8 Sone so Judas of slepe was awake, Thritti platen of selver from hym weren itake.

9 He drou hymselve bi the cop, that al it lavede a blode; The Jewes out of Jurselem awenden he were wode.

10 Foret hym com the riche Jeu that heihte Pilatus: 'Wolte sulle thi loverd, that hette Jesus?'

11 'I nul sulle my loverd [for] nones cunnes eihte, Bote hit be for the thritti platen that he me bitaihte.'

12 'Wolte sulle thi lord Crist for enes cunnes golde?' 'Nay, bote hit be for the platen that he habben wolde.'

13 In him com ur lord Crist gon, as is postles seten at mete: 'Wou sitte ye, postles, ant wi nule ye ete?

14 ['Wou sitte ye, postles, ant wi nule ye ete?] Ic am ibouht ant isold today for oure mete.'

15 Up stod him Judas: 'Lord, am I that ...? 'I nas never othe stude ther me the evel spec.'

16 Up him stod Peter, and spec wid al is mihte, . . . . . . .

17 'Thau Pilatus him come wid ten hundred cnihtes, Yet ic wolde, loverd, for thi love fihte.'

18 'Still thou be, Peter, wel I the icnowe; Thou wolt fursake me thrien ar the coc him crowe.'

* * * * *

Not divided into stanzas in Reliquiæ Antiquæ.

3^2. meist.

10^1. heiste.

11^1. eiste.

11^2. bitaiste.

14^2. i-boust.

16^1. miste.

17^1. cnistes.

17^2. fiste.

In the absence of the original manuscript, I have thought it better to change Wright's ~s~ in the above instances (3-17) to ~h~. In this substitution I follow Mätzner's Altenglische Sprachproben, I, 114.

[204] Legenda Aurea, Grässe, 2d ed., p. 184 ff; Mone's Anzeiger, VII, col. 532 f, and du Méril, Poésies populaires latines du Moyen Age, p. 326 ff; Furnivall, Early English Poems and Lives of Saints, p. 107 ff; Douhet, Dictionnaire des Légendes, col. 714 ff; Das alte Passional, ed. K.A. Hahn, p. 312 ff; Bäckström, Svenska Folkböcker, II, 198 ff; etc.

[205] See Fabricius, Codex Pseudepigraphus Veteris Testamenti, II, 79; Godfrey of Viterbo (who derives his information from a lost writing of the apostle Bartholomew) in his Pantheon, Pistorius, German. Script., ed. Struve, II, 243, or E. du Méril, Poésies pop. latines du Moyen Age, p. 321; Genesi de Scriptura, Biblioteca Catalana, p. 20, etc.

BONNIE ANNIE

#A.# 'Bonnie Annie,' Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 123.

#B.# 'The High Banks o Yarrow,' Motherwell's MS., p. 652.

Had an old copy of this still pretty and touching, but much disordered, ballad been saved, we should perhaps have had a story like this. Bonnie Annie, having stolen her father's gold and her mother's fee, and fled with her paramour (like the maid in No 4), the ship in which she is sailing encounters a storm and cannot get on. Annie is seized with the pangs of travail, and deplores the absence of women (#B# 6, 7, #A# 9, 10; compare No 15, 21-26). The sailors say there is somebody on board who is marked for death, or flying from a just doom. They cast lots, and the lot falls on Annie,--a result which strikes us as having more semblance of the "corrupted currents of this world" than of a pure judgment of God. Annie, conscious only of her own guilt, asks to be thrown overboard. Her paramour offers great sums to the crew to save her, but their efforts prove useless, and Annie again begs, or they now insist, that she shall be cast into the sea with her babe. This done, the ship is able to sail on; Annie floats to shore and is buried there.

The captain of the ship is the guilty man in #A#, in #B# a rich squire. #A# may exhibit the original plot, but it is just as likely that the captain was substituted for a passenger, under the influence of another ballad, in which there is no Annie, but a ship-master stained with many crimes, whom the lot points out as endangering or obstructing the vessel. See 'Brown Robyn's Confession,' further on.

If the narrative in Jonah, i, is the ultimate source of this and similar stories, it must be owned that the tradition has maintained its principal traits in this ballad remarkably well. Jonah flies from the presence of the Lord in a ship; the ship is overtaken by a tempest;[206] the sailors cast lots to know who is the guilty cause, and the lot falls on Jonah; he bids the sailors take him up and cast him into the sea; nevertheless the men row hard to bring the ship to land, but cannot succeed; they throw Jonah into the water, and the storm ceases.[207]

Translated in Grundtvig's Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 199, No 31.

#A#

Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 123.

1 There was a rich lord, and he lived in Forfar, He had a fair lady, and one only dochter.

2 O she was fair, O dear, she was bonnie! A ship's captain courted her to be his honey.

3 There cam a ship's captain out owre the sea sailing, He courted this young thing till he got her wi bairn.

4 'Ye'll steal your father's gowd, and your mother's money, And I'll mak ye a lady in Ireland bonnie.'

5 She's stown her father's gowd, and her mother's money, But she was never a lady in Ireland bonnie.

* * * * * * *

6 'There's fey fowk in our ship, she winna sail for me, There's fey fowk in our ship, she winna sail for me.'

7 They've casten black bullets twice six and forty, And ae the black bullet fell on bonnie Annie.

8 'Ye'll tak me in your arms twa, lo, lift me cannie, Throw me out owre board, your ain dear Annie.'

9 He has tane her in his arms twa, lo, lifted her cannie, He has laid her on a bed of down, his ain dear Annie.

10 'What can a woman do, love, I'll do for ye;' 'Muckle can a woman do, ye canna do for me.'

11 'Lay about, steer about, lay our ship cannie, Do all ye can to save my dear Annie.'

12 'I've laid about, steerd about, laid about cannie, But all I can do, she winna sail for me.

13 'Ye'll tak her in your arms twa, lo, lift her cannie, And throw her out owre board, your ain dear Annie.'

14 He has tane her in his arms twa, lo, lifted her cannie, He has thrown her out owre board, his ain dear Annie.

15 As the ship sailed, bonnie Annie she swam, And she was at Ireland as soon as them.

16 He made his love a coffin of the gowd sae yellow, And buried his bonnie love doun in a sea valley.

Motherwell's MS., p. 652. From the singing of a boy, Henry French, Ayr.

1 Down in Dumbarton there wonnd a rich merchant, Down in Dumbarton there wond a rich merchant, And he had nae family but ae only dochter. Sing fal lal de deedle, fal lal de deedle lair, O a day

2 There cam a rich squire, intending to woo her, He wooed her until he had got her wi babie.

3 'Oh what shall I do! oh what shall come o me! Baith father and mither will think naething o me.'

4 'Gae up to your father, bring down gowd and money, And I'll take ye ower to a braw Irish ladie.'

5 She gade to her father, brought down gowd and money, And she's awa ower to a braw Irish ladie.

6 She hadna sailed far till the young thing cried 'Women!' 'What women can do, my dear, I'll do for you.'

7 'O haud your tongue, foolish man, dinna talk vainly, For ye never kent what a woman driet for you.

8 'Gae wash your hands in the cauld spring water, And dry them on a towel a' giltit wi silver.

9 'And tak me by the middle, and lift me up saftlie, And throw me ower shipboard, baith me and my babie.'

10 He took her by the middle, and lifted her saftly, And threw her ower shipboard, baith her and her babie.

11 Sometimes she did sink, sometimes she did float it, Until that she cam to the high banks o Yarrow.

12 'O captain tak gowd, O sailors tak money, And launch out your sma boat till I sail for my honey.'

13 'How can I tak gowd, how can I tak money? My ship's on a sand bank, she winna sail for me.'

14 The captain took gowd, the sailors took money, And they launchd out their sma boat till he sailed for his honey.

15 'Mak my love a coffin o the gowd sae yellow, Whar the wood it is dear, and the planks they are narrow, And bury my love on the high banks o Yarrow.'

16 They made her a coffin o the gowd sae yellow, And buried her deep on the high banks o Yarrow.

* * * * *

#A.#

Printed by Kinloch in four-line stanzas.

16^1. coffin off the Goats of Yerrow.

#B.#

16. Motherwell, Minstrelsy, p. xcix, 146, gives the stanza thus:

They made his love a coffin of the gowd sae yellow, They made his love a coffin of the gowd sae yellow, And they buried her deep on the high banks of Yarrow. Sing fal lal, de deedle, fal lal, de deedle lair, Oh a Day!

[206] Jonah is asleep below. This trait we find in several Norse ballads: see 'Brown Robyn's Confession.'

[207] A singular episode in the life of Saint Mary Magdalen in the Golden Legend, Grässe, c. xcvi, 2, p. 409 ff, indicates a belief that even a dead body might prejudice the safety of a ship. The princess of Marseilles, in the course of a storm, has given birth to a boy and expired. The sailors demand that the body shall be thrown into the sea (and apparently the boy, too), for, they say, as long as it shall be with us, this thumping will not cease. They presently see a hill, and think it better to put off the corpse, and the boy, there, than that these should be devoured by sea-monsters. Fear will fasten upon anything in such a case.

The Digby Mystery of Mary Magdalene has this scene, at p. 122 of the New Shakspere Society edition, ed. Furnivall.

WILLIE'S LYKE-WAKE

#A.# 'Willie, Willie,' Kinloch's MSS, I, 53.

#B. a.# 'Blue Flowers and Yellow,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 185. #b.# 'The Blue Flowers and the Yellow,' Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 120.

#C.# Motherwell's MS., p. 187.

#D.# 'Amang the blue flowers and yellow,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xix, No XVII, one stanza.

This piece was first printed by Buchan, in 1828, and all the copies which have been recovered are of about that date. The device of a lover's feigning death as a means of winning a shy mistress enjoys a considerable popularity in European ballads. Even more favorite is a ballad in which the woman adopts this expedient, in order to escape from the control of her relations: see 'The Gay Goshawk,' with which will be given another form of the present story.

A #Danish# ballad answering to our Feigned Lyke-Wake is preserved, as I am informed by Professor Grundtvig, in no less than fourteen manuscripts, some of them of the 16th century, and is still living in tradition. Five versions, as yet unprinted, #A-E#, have been furnished me by the editor of the Ballads of Denmark.

#A#, from a manuscript of the sixteenth century. Young Herre Karl asks his mother's rede how he may get the maid his heart is set upon. She advises him to feign sickness, and be laid on his bier, no one to know his counsel but the page who is to do his errands. The page bids the lady to the wake that night. Little Kirstin asks her mother's leave to keep wake over Karl. The wake is to be in the upper room of Karl's house. The mother says, Be on your guard; he means to cheat you; but Kirstin, neither listening to her mother nor asking her father, goes to keep wake in the upper room. When she went in she could not see the lights for her tears. She begged all the good people to pray for Karl's soul, sat down by his head and made her own prayer, and murmured, While thou livedst I loved thee. She lifted the cloths, and there lay Karl wide awake and laughing. "All the devils in hell receive thy soul!" she cried. "If thou livedst a hundred years, thou shouldst never have my good will! "Karl proposed that she should pass the night with him. "Why would you deceive me!" Kirstin exclaimed. "Why did you not go to my father and betroth me honorably?" Karl immediately rode to her father's to do this, and they were married.

#B. a#, from MSS of 1610 and later, almost identical with #b#, 'Den forstilte Vaagestue,' Levninger, Part II, 1784, p. 34, No 7.[208] This version gives us some rather unnecessary previous history. Karl has sued for Ingerlille three years, and had an ill answer. He follows her to church one fine day, and, after mass, squeezes her fingers and asks, Will you take pity on me? She replies, You must ask my father and friends; and he, I have, and can get no good answer. If you will give me your troth, we can see to that best ourselves. "Never," she says. "Farewell, then; but Christ may change your mind." Karl meets his mother on his way from church, who asks why he is so pale. He tells her his plight, and is advised, as before, to use craft. The wake is held on Karl's premises.[209] Ingerlille, in scarlet mantle, goes with her maids. She avows her love, but adds that it was a fixed idea in her mind that he would deceive her. She lifts up the white cloth that covers the face. Karl laughs, and says, We were good friends before, so are we still. Bear out the bier, and follow me to bed with the fair maid. She hopes he will have respect for her honor. Karl reassures her, leaves her with his mother, rides to Ingerlille's house, obtains her parents' approbation, and buys wine for his wedding.

#C#, from manuscripts of the sixteenth century. Karl is given out for dead, and his pages ride to the convent to ask that his body may be laid in the cloister. The bier is borne in; the prioress comes to meet it, with much respect. The pages go about bidding maids to the wake. Ellin asks her mother if she may go. (This looks as if there had originally been no convent in the ballad.) Her mother tells her to put on red gold and be wary of Karl, he is so very tricky. When Ellin owns her attachment, Karl whispers softly, Do not weep, but follow me. Horses were ready at the portal--black horses all!

Karl sprang from the bier, took Ellin, and made for the door. The nuns, who stood reading in the choir, thought it was an angel that had translated her, and wished one would come for them. Karl, with fifteen men who were in waiting, carried Ellin home, and drank his bridal with her.

#D#, from recent oral tradition. As Karl lay in his bed, he said, How shall I get the fair maid out of the convent? His foster-mother heard him, and recommended him to feign death and bid the fair maid to his wake. The maid asked her father's leave to go, but he said, Nay, the moment you are inside the door he will seize you by the foot. But when the page, who had first come in blue, comes back in scarlet, she goes. She stands at Karl's head and says, I never shall forget thee; at his feet, "I wished thee well;" at his side, "Thou wast my dearest." Then she turns and bids everybody good-night, but Karl seizes her, and calls to his friends to come drink his bridal. We hear nothing of the convent after the first stanza.

#E#, from oral tradition of another quarter. Karl consults his mother how he shall get little Kirstin out of the convent, and receives the same counsel. A page is sent to the convent, and asks who will come to the wake now Herr Karl is dead? Little Kirstin, without application to the prioress, goes to her mother, who does not forbid her, but warns her that Karl will capture her as sure as she goes into the room.

The maid has the door by the handle, And is wishing them all good-night; Young Karl, that lay a corpse on the bier, Sprang up and held her tight.

'Why here's a board and benches, And there's no dead body here; This eve I'll drink my mead and wine, All with my Kirstin dear.

'Why here's a board and beds too, And here there's nobody dead; To-morrow will I go to the priest, All with my plighted maid.'

#F#, another copy from recent tradition, was published in 1875, in Kristensen's Jyske Folkeviser, II, 213, No 62, 'Vaagestuen.' There is no word of a convent here. The story is made very short. Kirsten's mother says she will be fooled if she goes to the wake. The last stanza, departing from all other copies, says that when Kirsten woke in the morning Karl was off.

#G.# 'Klosterranet,' Levninger, I, 23, No 4 (1780), Danske Viser, IV, 261, No 212, a very second-rate ballad, may have the praise of preserving consistency and conventual discipline. The young lady does not slip out to see her mother without leave asked and had. It is my persuasion that the convent, with its little jest about the poor nuns, is a later invention, and that #C# is a blending of two different stories. In #G#, Herr Morten betroths Proud Adeluds, who is more virtuous than rich. His friends object; her friends do not want spirit, and swear that she shall never be his. Morten's father sends him out of the country, and Adeluds is put into a convent. After nine years Morten returns, and, having rejected an advantageous match proposed by his father, advises with his brother, Herr Nilaus, how to get his true love out of the cloister. The brother's plan is that of the mother and foster-mother in the other versions. Herr Nilaus promises a rich gift if Morten's body may be buried within the cloister. From this point the story is materially the same as in #C#.

#H.# A copy, which I have not yet seen, in Rahbek's Læsning i blandede Æmner (or Hesperus), III, 151, 1822 (Bergström).

* * * * *

'Hertugen af Skage,' Danske Viser, II, 191, No 88, has this slight agreement with the foregoing ballads. Voldemar, the king's youngest son, hearing that the duke has a daughter, Hildegerd, that surpasses all maids, seeks her out in a convent in which she has taken refuge, and gets a cold reception. He feigns death, desiring that his bones may repose in the cloister. His bier is carried into the convent church. Hildegerd lights nine candles for him, and expresses compassion for his early death. While she is standing before the altar of the Virgin, Voldemar carries her out of the church by force.

* * * * *

This, says Afzelius, 1814, is one of the commonest ballads in #Sweden#, and is often represented as a drama by young people in country places. #A a#, 'Herr Carl, eller Klosterrofvet,' Afzelius, I, 179, No 26, new ed. No 24; #b#, Afzelius, Sago-Häfder, ed. 1851, IV, 106. #B#, Atterbom, Poetisk Kalender for 1816, p. 63, 'Det Iefvande Liket.' #C#. Rancken, Några Prof af Folksång, o. s. v., p. 13, No 4. These differ but slightly from Danish #D#, #E#. All three conclude with the humorous verses about the nuns, which in Rancken's copy take this rollicking turn:

And all the nuns in the convent they all danced in a ring; 'Christ send another such angel, to take us all under his wing!'

And all the nuns in the convent, they all danced each her lone; 'Christ send another such angel, to take us off every one!'

Bergström, new Afzelius, II, 131, refers to another version in Gyllenmärs' visbok, p. 191, and to a good copy obtained by himself.

An Icelandic version for the 17th century, which is after the fashion of Danish #C#, #G#, is given in Íslenzk Fornkvæði, II, 59, No 40, 'Marteins kviða.' The lover has in all three a troop of armed men in waiting outside of the convent.

Professor Bugge has obtained a version in Norway, which, however, is as to language essentially Danish. (Bergström, as above.)

There is a very gay and pretty south-European ballad, in which the artifice of feigning death is successfully tried by a lover after the failure of other measures.

#A.# #Magyar.# Arany and Gyulai, I, 172, No 18, 'Pálbeli Szép Antal;' translated by Aigner, Ungarische Volksdichtungen, p. 80, 'Schön Anton.' Handsome Tony tells his mother that he shall die for Helen. The mother says, Not yet. I will build a marvellous mill. The first wheel shall grind out pearls, the middle stone discharge kisses, the third wheel distribute small change. The pretty maids will come to see, and Helen among them. Helen asks her mother's leave to see the mill. "Go not," the mother replies. "They are throwing the net, and a fox will be caught." Tony again says he must die. His mother says, not yet; for she will build an iron bridge; the girls will come to see it, and Helen among them. Helen asks to see the bridge; her mother answers as before. Tony says once more that he shall die for Helen. His mother again rejoins, Not yet. Make believe to be dead; the girls will come to see you, and Helen among them. Helen entreats to be allowed to go to see the handsome young man that has died. Her mother tells her she will never come back. Tony's mother calls to him to get up; the girl he was dying for is even now before the gate, in the court, standing at his feet. "Never," says Helen, "saw I so handsome a dead man,--eyes smiling, mouth tempting kisses, and his feet all ready for a spring." Up he jumped and embraced her.

#B.# #Italian.# Ferraro, Canti popolari monferrini, p. 59, No 40, 'Il Genovese.' The Genoese, not obtaining the beautiful daughter of a rich merchant on demand, plants a garden. All the girls come for flowers, except the one desired. He then gives a ball, with thirty-two musicians. All the girls are there, but not the merchant's daughter. He then builds a church, very richly adorned. All the girls come to mass, all but one. Next he sets the bells a ringing, in token of his death. The fair one goes to the window to ask who is dead. The good people ("ra bun-ha gent," in the Danish ballad "det gode folk") tell her that it is her first love, and suggest that she should attend the funeral. She asks her father, who consents if she will not cry. As she was leaving the church, the lover came to life, and called to the priests and friars to stop singing. They went to the high altar to be married.

#C.# #Slovenian.# Vraz, Narodne peśni ilirske, p. 93, 'Čudna bolezen' ('Strange Sickness'); translated by Anastasius Grün, Volkslieder aus Krain, p. 36, 'Der Scheintodte.' "Build a church, mother," cries the love-sick youth, "that all who will may hear mass; perhaps my love among them." The mother built a church, one and another came, but not his love. "Dig a well, mother, that those who will may fetch water; perhaps my love among them." The well was dug, one and another came for water, but not his love. "Say I am dead, mother, that those who will may come to pray." Those who wished came, his love first of all. The youth was peeping through the window. "What kind of dead man is this, that stretches his arms for an embrace, and puts out his mouth for a kiss?"

* * * * *

Danish #G# translated by the Rev. J. Johnstone, 'The Robbery of the Nunnery, or, The Abbess Outwitted,' Copenhagen, 1786 (Danske Viser, IV, 366); by Prior, III, 400. Swedish #A#, by G. Stephens, For. Quar. Rev., 1841, XXVI, 49, and by the Howitts, Lit. and Rom. of Northern Europe, I, 292. English #C#, by Rosa Warrens, Schottische V. 1., p. 144, No 33.

Kinloch's MSS, I, 53, from the recitation of Mary Barr, Lesmahagow, aged upwards of seventy. May, 1827.

1 'Willie, Willie, I'll learn you a wile,' And the sun shines over the valleys and a' 'How this pretty fair maid ye may beguile.' Amang the blue flowrs and the yellow and a'

2 'Ye maun lie doun just as ye were dead, And tak your winding-sheet around your head.

3 'Ye maun gie the bellman his bell-groat, To ring your dead-bell at your lover's yett.'

4 He lay doun just as he war dead, And took his winding-sheet round his head.

5 He gied the bellman his bell-groat, To ring his dead-bell at his lover's yett.

6 'O wha is this that is dead, I hear?' 'O wha but Willie that loed ye sae dear.'

7 She is to her father's chamber gone, And on her knees she's fallen down.

8 'O father, O father, ye maun grant me this; I hope that ye will na tak it amiss.

9 'That I to Willie's burial should go; For he is dead, full well I do know.'

10 'Ye'll tak your seven bauld brethren wi thee, And to Willie's burial straucht go ye.'

11 It's whan she cam to the outmost yett, She made the silver fly round for his sake.

12 It's whan she cam to the inmost yett, She made the red gowd fly round for his sake.

13 As she walked frae the court to the parlour there, The pretty corpse syne began for to steer.

14 He took her by the waist sae neat and sae sma, And threw her atween him and the wa.

15 'O Willie, O Willie, let me alane this nicht, O let me alane till we're wedded richt.'

16 'Ye cam unto me baith sae meek and mild, But I'll mak ye gae hame a wedded wife wi child.'

#a.# Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 185. #b.# Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 120.

1 'O Willie my son, what makes you sae sad?' As the sun shines over the valley 'I lye sarely sick for the love of a maid.' Amang the blue flowers and the yellow

2 'Were she an heiress or lady sae free, That she will take no pity on thee?

3 'O Willie, my son, I'll learn you a wile, How this fair maid ye may beguile.

4 'Ye'll gie the principal bellman a groat, And ye'll gar him cry your dead lyke-wake.'

5 Then he gae the principal bellman a groat, He bade him cry his dead lyke-wake.

6 This maiden she stood till she heard it a', And down frae her cheeks the tears did fa.

7 She is hame to her father's ain bower: 'I'll gang to yon lyke-wake ae single hour.'

8 'Ye must take with you your ain brither John; It's not meet for maidens to venture alone.'

9 'I'll not take with me my brither John, But I'll gang along, myself all alone.'

10 When she came to young Willie's yate, His seven brithers were standing thereat.

11 Then they did conduct her into the ha, Amang the weepers and merry mourners a'.

12 When she lifted up the covering sae red, With melancholy countenance to look on the dead,

13 He's taen her in his arms, laid her gainst the wa, Says, 'Lye ye here, fair maid, till day.'

14 'O spare me, O spare me, but this single night, And let me gang hame a maiden sae bright.'

15 'Tho all your kin were about your bower, Ye shall not be a maiden ae single hour.

16 'Fair maid, ye came here without a convoy, But ye shall return wi a horse and a boy.

17 'Ye came here a maiden sae mild, But ye shall gae hame a wedded wife with child.'

Motherwell's MS., p. 187.

1 'O Willie, Willie, what makes thee so sad?' And the sun shines over the valley 'I have loved a lady these seven years and mair.' Down amang the blue flowers and the yellow

2 'O Willie, lie down as thou were dead, And lay thy winding-sheet down at thy head.

3 'And gie to the bellman a belling-great, To ring the dead-bell at thy love's bower-yett.'

4 He laid him down as he were dead, And he drew the winding-sheet oer his head.

5 He gied to the bellman a belling-great, To ring the dead-bell at his love's bower-yett.

* * * * * * *

6 When that she came to her true lover's gate, She dealt the red gold and all for his sake.

7 And when that she came to her true lover's bower, She had not been there for the space of half an hour,

8 Till that she cam to her true lover's bed, And she lifted the winding-sheet to look at the dead.

9 He took her by the hand so meek and sma, And he cast her over between him and the wa.

10 'Tho all your friends were in the bower, I would not let you go for the space of half an hour.

11 'You came to me without either horse or boy, But I will send you home with a merry convoy.'

Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xix, No XVII.

'O Johnie, dear Johnie, what makes ye sae sad?' As the sun shines ower the valley 'I think nae music will mak ye glad.' Amang the blue flowers and the yellow

* * * * *

#B.#

#b# is #a# with stanzas 3, 12-15 omitted, and "a few alterations, some of them given from the recitation of an old woman." "Buchan's version differs little from the way the old woman sang the ballad." _The old woman's variations, so far as adopted, are certainly of the most trifling._

1^2. I am.

2^1. Is she.

7^1. And she.

16^1. Ye've come.

16^4. And ye.

17. Evidently by Christie:

'Fair maid, I love thee as my life, But ye shall gae hame a lovd wedded wife.'

#C.#

Burden. The lines are transposed in the second stanza, but are given in the third in the order of the first.

3^1, 5^1. MS. belling great.

11^2. you come.

[208] But #a# has two stanzas more: the first a stev-stamme, or lyrical introduction (see p. 7), the other, 31, nearly a repetition of Sandvig's 29.

[209] After the page has bidden Ingerlille to the wake, we are told, #a# 27, 28, #b# 26, 27: all the convent bells were going, and the tidings spreading that the knight was dead; all the ladies of the convent sat sewing, except Ingerlille, who wept. But Ingerlille, in the next stanza, puts on her scarlet cloak and goes to the höjeloft to see her father and mother. The two stanzas quoted signify nothing in this version.

THE THREE RAVENS

#a.# Melismata. Musicall Phansies. Fitting the Court, Cittie, and Countrey Humours. London, 1611, No 20.[210] [T. Ravenscroft.]

#b.# 'The Three Ravens,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xviii, No XII.

#a# was printed from Melismata, by Ritson, in his Ancient Songs, 1790, p. 155. Mr. Chappell remarked, about 1855, Popular Music of the Olden Time, I, 59, that this ballad was still so popular in some parts of the country that he had "been favored with a variety of copies of it, written down from memory, and all differing in some respects, both as to words and tune, but with sufficient resemblance to prove a similar origin." Motherwell, Minstrelsy, Introduction, p. lxxvii, note 49, says he had met with several copies almost the same as #a.# #b# is the first stanza of one of these (traditional) versions, "very popular in Scotland."

The following verses, first printed in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, and known in several versions in Scotland, are treated by Motherwell and others as a traditionary form of 'The Three Ravens.' They are, however, as Scott says, "rather a counterpart than a copy of the other," and sound something like a cynical variation of the tender little English ballad. Dr Rimbault (Notes and Queries, Ser. V, III, 518) speaks of unprinted copies taken down by Mr Blaikie and by Mr Thomas Lyle of Airth.

THE TWA CORBIES.

#a.# Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, III, 239, ed. 1803, communicated by C. K. Sharpe, as written down from tradition by a lady. #b.# Albyn's Anthology, II, 27, 1818, "from the singing of Mr Thomas Shortreed, of Jedburgh, as sung and recited by his mother." #c.# Chambers's Scottish Ballads, p. 283, partly from recitation and partly from the Border Minstrelsy. #d.# Fraser-Tytler MS., p. 70.

1 As I was walking all alane, I heard twa corbies making a mane; The tane unto the t'other say, 'Where sall we gang and dine to-day?'

2 'In behint yon auld fail dyke, I wot there lies a new slain knight; And naebody kens that he lies there, But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair.

3 'His hound is to the hunting gane, His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame, His lady's ta'en another mate, So we may mak our dinner sweet.

4 'Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane, And I'll pike out his bonny blue een; Wi ae lock o his gowden hair We' theek our nest when it grows bare.

5 'Mony a one for him makes mane, But nane sall ken where he is gane; Oer his white banes, when they are bare, The wind sall blaw for evermair.'

'The Three Ravens' is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 145, No 23; by Henrietta Schubart, p. 155; Gerhard, p. 95; Rosa Warrens, Schottische V. l. der Vorzeit, p. 198; Wolff, Halle der Völker, I, 12, Hausschatz, p. 205.

'The Twa Corbies' (Scott), by Grundtvig, p. 143, No 22; Arndt, p. 224; Gerhard, p. 94; Schubart, p. 157; Knortz, L. u. R. Alt-Englands, p. 194; Rosa Warrens, p. 89. The three first stanzas, a little freely rendered into four, pass for Pushkin's: Works, 1855, II, 462, xxiv.

1 There were three rauens sat on a tree, Downe a downe, hay down, hay downe There were three rauens sat on a tree, With a downe There were three rauens sat on a tree, They were as blacke as they might be. With a downe derrie, derrie, derrie, downe, downe

2 The one of them said to his mate, 'Where shall we our breakefast take?'

3 'Downe in yonder greene field, There lies a knight slain vnder his shield.

4 'His hounds they lie downe at his feete, So well they can their master keepe.

5 'His haukes they flie so eagerly, There's no fowle dare him come nie.'

6 Downe there comes a fallow doe, As great with yong as she might goe.

7 She lift vp his bloudy hed, And kist his wounds that were so red.

8 She got him vp vpon her backe, And carried him to earthen lake.

9 She buried him before the prime, She was dead herselfe ere euen-song time.

10 God send euery gentleman, Such haukes, such hounds, and such a leman.

* * * * *

#b.#

Three ravens sat upon a tree, Hey down, hey derry day Three ravens sat upon a tree, Hey down Three ravens sat upon a tree, And they were black as black could be. And sing lay doo and la doo and day

Variations of The Twa Corbies.

#b.#

1. As I cam by yon auld house end, I saw twa corbies sittin thereon.

2^1. Whare but by yon new fa'en birk.

3. We'll sit upon his bonny breast-bane, And we'll pick out his bonny gray een; We'll set our claws intil his yallow hair, And big our bowr, it's a' blawn bare.

4. My mother clekit me o an egg, And brought me up i the feathers gray, And bade me flee whereer I wad, For winter wad be my dying day.

5. Now winter it is come and past, And a' the birds are biggin their nests, But I'll flee high aboon them a', And sing a sang for summer's sake.

#c.#

1. As I gaed doun by yon hous-en, Twa corbies there were sittand their lane.

2^1. O down beside yon new-faun birk.

3^1. His horse.

3^2. His hounds to bring the wild deer hame.

4. O we'll sit on his bonnie breist-bane, And we'll pyke out his bonnie grey een.

#d.#

1^1. walking forth.

1^2. the ither.

1^3. we twa dine.

3^2. wild bird.

5^2. naebody kens.

5^3. when we've laid them bare.

5^4. win may blaw.

[210] Misprinted 22.

THE WHUMMIL BORE

#a.# Motherwell's MS., p. 191. #b.# Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xvi, No III.

This ballad, if it ever were one, seems not to have been met with, or at least to have been thought worth notice, by anybody but Motherwell. As already observed in the preface to 'Hind Horn,' stanza 2 seems to have slipped into that ballad, in consequence of the resemblance of stanza 1 to #F# 2, #H# 3 of 'Hind Horn.' This first stanza is, however, a commonplace in English and elsewhere: e. g., 'The Squire of Low Degree:'

He served the kyng, her father dere, Fully the tyme of seven yere. vv 5, 6.

He loved her more then seven yere, Yet was he of her love never the nere. vv 17, 18.

Ritson, Met. Rom. III, 145 f.

1 Seven lang years I hae served the king, Fa fa fa fa lilly And I never got a sight of his daughter but ane. With my glimpy, glimpy, glimpy eedle, Lillum too tee a ta too a tee a ta a tally

2 I saw her thro a whummil bore, And I neer got a sight of her no more.

3 Twa was putting on her gown, And ten was putting pins therein.

4 Twa was putting on her shoon, And twa was buckling them again.

5 Five was combing down her hair, And I never got a sight of her nae mair.

6 Her neck and breast was like the snow, Then from the bore I was forced to go.

* * * * *

#a.#

2^2. Variation: And she was washing in a pond.

6^2. Variation: Ye might have tied me with a strae.

#b.#

Burden:

Fa, fa, falilly With my glimpy, glimpy, glimpy eedle, Lillum too a tee too a tally.

BURD ELLEN AND YOUNG TAMLANE

Maidment's North Countrie Garland, 1824, p. 21. Communicated by R. Pitcairn, "from the recitation of a female relative, who had heard it frequently sung in her childhood," about sixty years before the above date.

Motherwell informs us, Minstrelsy, p. xciv of Introduction, note to 141, that 'Burd Helen and Young Tamlene' is very popular, and that various sets of it are to be found traditionally current (1827). Still I have not found it, out of Maidment's little book; not even in Motherwell's large folio.

I cannot connect this fragment with what is elsewhere handed down concerning Tamlane, or with the story of any other ballad.

1 Burd Ellen sits in her bower windowe, With a double laddy double, and for the double dow Twisting the red silk and the blue. With the double rose and the May-hay

2 And whiles she twisted, and whiles she twan, And whiles the tears fell down amang.

3 Till once there by cam Young Tamlane: 'Come light, oh light, and rock your young son.'

4 'If you winna rock him, you may let him rair, For I hae rockit my share and mair.'

* * * * * * *

5 Young Tamlane to the seas he's gane, And a' women's curse in his company's gane.

THE BOY AND THE MANTLE

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

This ballad and the two which follow it are clearly not of the same rise, and not meant for the same ears, as those which go before. They would come down by professional rather than by domestic tradition, through minstrels rather than knitters and weavers. They suit the hall better than the bower, the tavern or public square better than the cottage, and would not go to the spinning-wheel at all. An exceedingly good piece of minstrelsy 'The Boy and the Mantle' is, too; much livelier than most of the numerous variations on the somewhat overhandled theme.[211]

Of these, as nearest related, the fabliau or "romance" of Le Mantel Mautaillié, 'Cort Mantel,' must be put first: Montaiglon et Raynaud, Recueil Général des Fabliaux, III, 1, from four manuscripts, three of the thirteenth century, one of the fourteenth; and previously by Michel, from the three older manuscripts, in Wolf, Ueber die Lais, p. 324. A rendering of the fabliau in prose, existing in a single manuscript, was several times printed in the sixteenth century: given in Legrand, ed. Renouard, I, 126, and before, somewhat modernized, by Caylus, 'Les Manteaux,' Œuvres Badines, VI, 435.[212]

The story in 'Cort Mantel' goes thus. Arthur was holding full court at Pentecost, never more splendidly. Not only kings, dukes, and counts were there, but the attendance of all young bachelors had been commanded, and he that had a bele amie was to bring her. The court assembled on Saturday, and on Sunday all the world went to church. After service the queen took the ladies to her apartments, till dinner should be ready. But it was Arthur's wont not to dine that day until he had had or heard of some adventure;[213] dinner was kept waiting; and it was therefore with great satisfaction that the knights saw a handsome and courteous varlet arrive, who must certainly bring news; news that was not to be good to all, though some would be pleased (cf. stanza 5 of the ballad). A maid had sent him from a very distant country to ask a boon of the king. He was not to name the boon or the lady till he had the king's promise; but what he asked was no harm. The king having said that he would grant what was asked, the varlet took from a bag a beautiful mantle, of fairy workmanship. This mantle would fit no dame or damsel who had in any way misbehaved towards husband or lover; it would be too short or too long; and the boon was that the king should require all the ladies of the court to put it on.

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

Kay called his mistress, and very confidently urged her to put on the mantle. She demurred, on the ground that she might give offence by forwardness; but this roused suspicion in Kay, and she had no resource but to go on. The mantle was again lamentably short. Bruns and Ydier let loose some gibes. Kay bade them wait; he had hopes for them. Gawain's amie next underwent the test, then Ywain's, then Perceval's. Still a sad disappointment. Many were the curses on the mantle that would fit nobody, and on him that brought it. Kay takes the unlucky ladies, one after the other, to sit with his mistress.

At this juncture Kay proposes that they shall have dinner, and continue the experiment by and by. The varlet is relentless; but Kay has the pleasure of seeing Ydier discomfited. And so they go on through the whole court, till the varlet says that he fears he shall be obliged to carry his mantle away with him. But first let the chambers be searched; some one may be in hiding who may save the credit of the court. The king orders a search, and they find one lady, not in hiding, but in her bed, because she is not well. Being told that she must come, she presents herself as soon as she can dress, greatly to the vexation of her lover, whose name is Carados Briebras. The varlet explains to her the quality of the mantle, and Carados, in verses very honorable to his heart, begs that she will not put it on if she has any misgivings.[214] The lady says very meekly that she dare not boast being better than other people, but, if it so please her lord, she will willingly don the mantle. This she does, and in sight of all the barons it is neither too short nor too long. "It was well we sent for her," says the varlet. "Lady, your lover ought to be delighted. I have carried this mantle to many courts, and of more than a thousand who have put it on you are the only one that has escaped disgrace. I give it to you, and well you deserve it." The king confirms the gift, and no one can gainsay.

A Norse prose translation of the French fabliau was executed by order of the Norwegian king, Hákon Hákonarson, whose reign covers the years 1217-63. Of this translation, 'Möttuls Saga,' a fragment has come down which is as old as 1300; there are also portions of a manuscript which is assigned to about 1400, and two transcripts of this latter, made when it was complete, besides other less important copies. This translation, which is reasonably close and was made from a good exemplar, has been most excellently edited by Messrs Cederschiöld and Wulff, Versions nordiques du Fabliau Le Mantel Mautaillié, Lund, 1877, p. 1.[215] It presents no divergences from the story as just given which are material here.

Not so with the 'Skikkju Rímur,' or Mantle Rhymes, an Icelandic composition of the fifteenth century, in three parts, embracing in all one hundred and eighty-five four-line stanzas: Cederschiöld and Wulff, p. 51. In these the story is told with additions, which occur partially in our ballad. The mantle is of white velvet. Three elf-women had been not less than fifteen years in weaving it, and it seemed both yellow and gray, green and black, red and blue: II, 22, 23, 26. Our English minstrel describes these variations of color as occurring after Guenever had put the mantle on: stanzas 11, 12. Again, there are among the Pentecostal guests a king and queen of Dwarf Land; a beardless king of Small-Maids Land, with a queen eight years old; and a King Felix, three hundred years old, with a beard to the crotch, and a wife, tall and fat, to whom he has been two centuries married,--all these severally attended by generous retinues of pigmies, juveniles, and seniors: I, 28-35; III, 41. Felix is of course the prototype of the old knight pattering over a creed in stanzas 21-24 of the ballad, and he will have his representative in several other pieces presently to be spoken of. In the end Arthur sends all the ladies from his court in disgrace, and his knights to the wars; we will get better wives, he says: III, 74, 75.

The land of Small-Maids and the long-lived race are mentioned in a brief geographical chapter (the thirteenth) of that singular gallimaufry the saga of Samson the Fair, but not in connection with a probation by the mantle, though this saga has appropriated portions of the story. Here the mantle is one which four fairies have worked at for eighteen years, as a penalty for stealing from the fleece of a very remarkable ram; and it is of this same fleece, described as being of all hues, gold, silk, ok kolors, that the mantle is woven. It would hold off from an unchaste woman and fall off from a thief. Quintalin, to ransom his life, undertakes to get the mantle for Samson. Its virtue is tried at two weddings, the second being Samson's; and on this last occasion Valentina, Samson's bride, is the only woman who can put it on. The mantle is given to Valentina, as in the fabliau to Carados's wife, but nevertheless we hear later of its being presented by Samson to another lady, who, a good while after, was robbed of the same by a pirate, and the mantle carried to Africa. From Africa it was sent to our Arthur by a lady named Elida, "and hence the saga of the mantle."[216] Björner, Nordiska Kämpa Dater, cc 12, 14, 15, 21, 22, 24.

There is also an incomplete German version of the fabliau, now credibly shown to be the work of Heinrich von dem Türlin, dating from the earliest years of the thirteenth century.[217] Though the author has dealt freely with his original, there are indications that this, like the Möttulssaga, was founded upon some version of the fabliau which is not now extant. One of these is an agreement between vv 574-6 and the sixth stanza of our ballad. The mantle, in English, is enclosed between two nut-shells;[218] in German, the bag from which it is taken is hardly a span wide. In the Möttulssaga, p. 9, l. 6, the mantle comes from a púss, a small bag hanging on the belt; in Ulrich von Zatzikhoven's Lanzelet, from ein mæzigez teschelîn, and in the latter case the mantle instantaneously expands to full size (Warnatsch); it is also of all colors known to man, vv 5807-19. Again, when Guenever had put on the mantle, st. 10 of our ballad, "it was from the top to the toe as sheeres had itt shread." So in 'Der Mantel,' vv 732, 733:

Unde [==unten] het man in zerizzen, Oder mit mezzern zesnitten.[219]

The Lanzelet of Ulrich von Zatzikhoven, dating from the first years of the thirteenth century, with peculiarities of detail and a partially new set of names, presents the outline of the same story. A sea-fairy sends a maid to Arthur with a magnificent gift, which is, however, conditioned upon his granting a boon. Arthur assents, and the maid takes, from a small bag which she wears at her girdle, a mantle, which is of all colors that man ever saw or heard of, and is worked with every manner of beast, fowl, and strange fish. The king's promise obliges him to make all the court ladies don the mantle, she to have it whom it perfectly fits. More than two hundred try, and there is no absolute fit.[220] But Iblis, Lanzelet's wife, is not present: she is languishing on account of his absence on a dangerous adventure. She is sent for, and by general agreement the mantle is, on her, the best-fitting garment woman ever wore. Ed. Hahn, vv 5746-6135.

The adventure of the Mantle is very briefly reported to Gawain, when on his way with Ydain to Arthur, by a youth who had just come from the court, in terms entirely according with the French fabliau, in Messire Gauvain, ou La Vengeance de Raguidel, by the trouvère Raoul, ed. Hippeau, p. 135 ff, vv 3906-55, and in the Dutch Lancelot, ed. Jonckbloet, Part II, p. 85, vv 12,500-527, poems of the thirteenth century. The one lady whom the mantle fits is in the latter Carados vrindinne, in the other l'amie Caraduel Briefbras.

The Scalachronica, by Sir Thomas Gray of Heton, a chronicle of England and Scotland, 1066-1362, begun in 1355, gives the analysis of many romances, and that of the adventure of the Mantle in this form. There was sent to Arthur's court the mantle of Karodes, which was of such virtue that it would fit no woman who was not willing that her husband should know both her act and her thought.[221] This was the occasion of much mirth, for the mantle was either too short, or too long, or too tight, for all the ladies except Karodes' wife. And it was said that this mantle was sent by the father of Karodes, a magician, to prove the goodness of his son's wife.[222]

Two fifteenth-century German versions of the Mantle story give it a shape of their own. In Fastnachtspiele aus dem fünfzehnten Jahrhundert, II, 665, No 81, 'Der Luneten Mantel,' the amiable Lunet, so well and favorably known in romances, takes the place of the English boy and French varlet. The story has the usual course. The mantle is unsuccessfully tried by Arthur's queen, by the wife of the Greek emperor, and by the queen of Lorraine. The king of Spain, who announces himself as the oldest man present, is willing to excuse his wife, who is the youngest of the royal ladies. She says, If we lack lands and gold, "so sei wir doch an eren reich," offers herself to the test with the fearlessness of innocence, and comes off clear, to the delight of her aged spouse. A meistergesang, Bruns, Beiträge zur kritischen Bearbeitung alter Handschriften, p. 143,[223] 'Lanethen Mantel,' again awards the prize to the young wife of a very old knight. Laneth, a clean maid, who is Arthur's niece, having made herself poor by her bounty, is cast off by her uncle's wife and accused of loose behavior. She makes her trouble known to a dwarf, a good friend of her father's, and receives from him a mantle to take to Arthur's court: if anybody huffs her, she is to put it to use. The queen opens upon Laneth, as soon as she appears, with language not unlike that which she employs of Cradock's wife in stanzas 33, 34 of the ballad. The mantle is offered to any lady that it will fit. In front it comes to the queen's knee, and it drags on the ground behind. Three hundred and fifty knights' ladies fare as ill as the sovereign.[224]

The Dean of Lismore's collection of Gaelic poetry, made in the early part of the sixteenth century, contains a ballad, obscure in places, but clearly presenting the outlines of the English ballad or French fabliau.[225] Finn, Diarmaid, and four other heroes are drinking, with their six wives. The women take too much, and fall to boasting of their chastity. While they are so engaged, a maid approaches who is clad in a seamless robe of pure white. She sits down by Finn, and he asks her what is the virtue of the garment. She replies that her seamless robe will completely cover none but the spotless wife. Conan, a sort of Kay, says, Give it to my wife at once, that we may learn the truth of what they have been saying. The robe shrinks into folds, and Conan is so angry that he seizes his spear and kills his wife.[226] Diarmaid's wife tries, and the robe clings about her hair; Oscar's, and it does not reach to her middle; Maighinis, Finn's wife, and it folds around her ears. MacRea's wife only is completely covered. The 'daughter of Deirg,' certainly a wife of Finn, and here seemingly to be identified with Maighinis, claims the robe: she has done nothing to be ashamed of; she has erred only with Finn. Finn curses her and womankind, "because of her who came that day."

The probation by the Horn runs parallel with that by the Mantle, with which it is combined in the English ballad. Whether this or that is the anterior creation it is not possible to say, though the 'Lai du Corn' is, beyond question, as Ferdinand Wolf held, of a more original stamp, fresher and more in the popular vein than the fabliau of the Mantle, as we have it.[227] The 'Lai du Corn,' preserved in a single not very early manuscript (Digby 86, Bodleian Library, "of the second half of the thirteenth or beginning of the fourteenth century"), may well belong, where Wolf puts it, in the middle of the twelfth. Robert Bikez, the jongleur who composed it, attributes the first authorship to "Garadue," the hero, and says that he himself derived the story from the oral communication of an abbé. Arthur has assembled thirty thousand knights at a feast at Pentecost, and each of them is paired with a lady. Before dinner there arrives a donzel, with an ivory horn adorned with four gold bands and rich jewels. This horn has been sent Arthur by Mangounz, king of Moraine. The youth is told to take his place before the king, who promises to knight him after dinner and give him a handsome present the next day; but he laughingly excuses himself, on the ground that it is not proper for a squire to eat at a knight's table, and retires. Arthur sees that there is an inscription on the horn, and desires that his "chapelein" may read it. Everybody is eager to hear, but some repent afterwards. The horn was made by a fairy, who endued it with this quality, that no man should drink of it without spilling, if his wife had not been true in act and thought. Even the queen hung her head, and so did all the barons that had wives. The maids jested, and looked at their lovers with "Now we shall see." Arthur was offended, but ordered Kay to fill. The king drank and spilled; seized a knife, and was about to strike the queen, but was withheld by his knights. Gawain gallantly came to the queen's vindication. "Be not such a churl," he said, "for there is no married woman but has her foolish thought." The queen demanded an ordeal by fire: if a hair of her were burned, she would be torn by horses. She confessed that the horn was in so far right that she had once given a ring to a youth who had killed a giant that had accused Gawain of treason, etc. She thought this youth would be a desirable addition to the court. Arthur was not convinced: he would make everybody try the horn now, king, duke, and count, for he would not be the only one to be shamed. Eleven kings, thirty counts, all who essay, spill: they are very angry, and bid the devil take him who brought and him who sent the horn. When Arthur saw this, he began to laugh: he regarded the horn as a great present, he said, and he would part with it to nobody except the man that could drink out of it. The queen blushed so prettily that he kissed her three times, and asked her pardon for his bad humor. The queen said, Let everybody take the horn, small and great. There was a knight who was the happiest man in all the court, the least a braggart, the most mannerly, and the most redoubtable after Gawain. His name was Garadue, and he had a wife, mout leal, who was a fairy for beauty, and surpassed by none but the queen. Garadue looked at her. She did not change color. "Drink," she said; "indeed, you are at fault to hesitate." She would never have husband but him: for a woman should be a dove, and accept no second mate. Garadue was naturally very much pleased: he sprang to his feet, took the horn, and, crying Wassail! to the king, drank out every drop. Arthur presented him with Cirencester, and, for his wife's sake, with the horn, which was exhibited there on great days.

The romance of Perceval le Gallois, by Chrestien de Troyes and others (second half of the twelfth century), describes Arthur, like the fabliau, as putting off dinner till he should hear of some strange news or adventure. A knight rides into the hall, with an ivory horn, gold-banded and richly jewelled, hanging from his neck, and presents it to the king. Have it filled with pure water, says the bearer, and the water will turn to the best wine in the world, enough for all who are present. "A rich present!" exclaims Kay. But no knight whose wife or love has betrayed him shall drink without spilling. "Or empire vostre présens," says Kay. The king has the horn filled, and does not heed Guenever, who begs him not to drink, for it is some enchantment, to shame honest folk. "Then I pray God," says the queen, "that if you try to drink you may be wet." The king essays to drink, and Guenever has her prayer. Kay has the same luck, and all the knights,[228] till the horn comes to Carados (Brisié-Bras). Carados, as in the lai, hesitates; his wife (Guinon, Guimer) looks at him, and says, Drink! He spills not a drop. Guenever and many a dame hate nothing so much as her. Perceval le Gallois, ed. Potvin, II, 216 ff, vv 15,640-767.[229]

The story of 'Le Livre de Carados,' in Perceval, is given in abridgment by the author of Le Roman du Renard contrefait, writing in the second half of the fourteenth century: Tarbé, Poètes de Champagne antérieurs au siècle de François I^{er}, Histoire de Quarados Brun-Bras, p. 79 ff. The horn here becomes a cup.

A meistergesang, entitled 'Dis ist Frauw Tristerat Horn von Saphoien,' and found in the same fifteenth-century manuscript as Der Lanethen Mantel, Bruns, as before, p. 139, preserves many features of the lai. While Arthur is at table with seven other kings and their wives, a damsel comes, bringing an ivory horn, with gold letters about the rim, a present from Frau Tristerat of Savoy. The king sends for a clerk to read the inscription, and declares he will begin the experiment. The damsel prudently retires. Arthur is thoroughly wet, and on the point of striking the queen, but is prevented by a knight. The seven kings then take the horn, one after the other. Six of them fare like Arthur. The king of Spain looks at his wife, fearing shame. She encourages him to drink, saying, as in the other meistergesang, If we are poor in goods, we are rich in honor. Arthur presents him with the horn, and adds cities and lands. Another copy of this piece was printed by Zingerle, in Germania, V, 101, 'Das goldene Horn.' The queen is aus der Syrenen lant.[230]

A fastnachtspiel gives substantially the same form to the story: Keller, Nachlese, No 127, p. 183. Arthur invites seven kings and queens to his court. His wife wishes him to ask his sister, the Queen of Cyprus, also; but she has offended him, and he cannot be prevailed upon to do it. The Queen of Cyprus sends the horn to Arthur by her maid as a gift from a queen who is to be nameless, and in fulfilling her charge the messenger describes her lady simply as a sea princess. The inscription is read aloud by one of Arthur's knights. The King of Spain carries off the honors, and receives in gift, besides the horn, a ducal crown, and gold to boot. Arthur resolves that the horn shall be forgotten, and no grudge borne against the women, and proposes a dance, which he leads off with his wife.[231]

We have Arthur joining in a dance under nearly the same circumstances in an English "bowrd" found in a MS. of about the middle of the fifteenth century (Ashmolean Museum, No 61). The king has a bugle horn, which always stands before him, and often amuses himself by experimenting with it. Those who cannot drink without spilling are set at a table by themselves, with willow garlands on their heads, and served with the best. Upon the occasion of a visit from the Duke of Gloucester, the king, wishing to entertain his guest with an exhibition of the property of the horn, says he will try all who are present. He begins himself, as he was wont to do, but this time spills. He takes the mishap merrily, and says he may now join in a dance which the "freyry" were to have after meat. 'The Cokwolds Daunce,' Hartshorne's Ancient Metrical Tales, p. 209; Karajan, Frühlingsgabe [Schatzgräber], p. 17; Hazlitt, Remains of Early Popular Poetry, I, 38.[232]

Heinrich von dem Türlîn narrates the episode of the probation by the Horn with many variations of his own, among them the important one of subjecting the women to the test as well as the men.[233] In his Crône, put at 1200-10, a misshapen, dwarfish knight, whose skin is overgrown with scales, riding on a monster who is fish before and dolphin behind, with wings on its legs, presents himself to Arthur on Christmas Day as an envoy from a sea king, who offers the British monarch a gift on condition of his first granting a boon. The gift is a cup, made by a necromancer of Toledo, of which no man or woman can drink who has been false to love, and it is to be the king's if there shall be anybody at the court who can stand the test. The ladies are sent for, and the messenger gives the cup first to them. They all spill. The knights follow, Arthur first; and he, to the general astonishment, bears the proof, which no one else does except the sea king's messenger. Caraduz[234] von Caz fails with the rest. Diu Crône, ed. Scholl, vv 466-3189.

The prose Tristan confines the proof to the women, and transfers the scene to King Mark's court. Morgan the Fay having sent the enchanted horn to Arthur's court by the hands of a damsel, to avenge herself on Guenever, two knights who had a spite against Mark and Tristan intercept it, and cause the horn to be taken to King Mark, who is informed that no lady that has been false to her lord can drink of it without spilling. Yseult spills, and the king says she deserves to die. But, fortunately or unfortunately, all the rest of the ladies save four are found to be in the same plight as the queen. The courtiers, resolved to make the best of a bad matter, declare that they have no confidence in the probation, and the king consents to treat the horn as a deception, and acquits his wife.[235]

Ariosto has introduced the magical vessel made by Morgan the Fay for Arthur's behoof[236] into Orlando Furioso. A gentleman tries it on his guests for ten years, and they all spill but Rinaldo, who declines il periglioso saggio: canto XLII, 70-73, 97-104; XLIII, 6-44. Upon Ariosto's narrative La Fontaine founded the tale and the comedy of 'La Coupe Enchantée,' Works ed. Moland, IV, 37, V, 361.

In a piece in the Wunderhorn, I, 389, ed. 1819, called 'Die Ausgleichung,' and purporting to be from oral tradition, but reading like an imitation, or at most a reconstruction, of a meistergesang, the cup and mantle are made to operate conjointly: the former to convict a king and his knights, the other a queen and her ladies, of unfaithfulness in love. Only the youngest of the ladies can wear the mantle, and only the oldest of the knights, to whom she is espoused, can drink from the cup. This knight, on being presented with the cup, turns into a dwarf; the lady, on receiving the gift of the mantle, into a fay. They pour a drop of wine from the cup upon the mantle, and give the mantle to the queen, and the cup, empty, to the king. After this, the king and all the world can drink without inconvenience, and the mantle fits every woman. But the stain on the mantle grows bigger every year, and the cup gives out a hollow sound like tin! An allegory, we may suppose, and, so far as it is intelligible, of the weakest sort.

Tegau Eurvron is spoken of in Welsh triads as one of the three chaste ladies, and again as one of the three fair ladies, of Arthur's court.[237] She is called the wife of Caradawe Vreichvras by various Welsh writers, and by her surname of "Gold-breasted" she should be so.[238] If we may trust the author of The Welsh Bards, Tegau was the possessor of three treasures or rarities "which befitted none but herself," a mantle, a goblet, and a knife. The mantle is mentioned in a triad,[239] and is referred to as having the variable hue attributed to it in our ballad and elsewhere. There are three things, says the triad, of which no man knows the color; the peacock's expanded tail, the mantle of Tegau Eurvron, and the miser's pence. Of this mantle, Jones, in whose list of "Thirteen Rarities of Kingly Regalia" of the Island of Britain it stands eleventh, says, No one could put it on who had dishonored marriage, nor a young damsel who had committed incontinence; but it would cover a chaste woman from top to toe: Welsh Bards, II, 49. The mantle certainly seems to be identified by what is said of its color in the (not very ancient) triad, and so must have the property attributed to it by Jones, but one would be glad to have had Jones cite chapter and verse for his description.

There is a drinking-horn among the Thirteen Precious Things of the Island of Britain, which, like the conjurer's bottle of our day, will furnish any liquor that is called for, and a knife which will serve four-and-twenty men at meat "all at once." How this horn and this knife should befit none but the chaste and lovely Tegau, it is not easy to comprehend. Meanwhile the horn and the knife are not the property of Cradock's wife, in the English ballad: the horn falls to Cradock of right, and the knife was his from the beginning. Instead of Tegau's mantle we have in another account a mantle of Arthur, which is the familiar cloak that allows the wearer to see everything without himself being seen. Not much light, therefore, but rather considerable mist, comes from these Welsh traditions, of very uncertain date and significance. It may be that somebody who had heard of the three Welsh rarities, and of the mantle and horn as being two of them, supposed that the knife must have similar virtues with the horn and mantle, whence its appearance in our ballad; but no proof has yet been given that the Welsh horn and knife had ever a power of testing chastity.[240]

Heinrich von dem Türlin, not satisfied with testing Arthur's court first with the mantle, and again with the horn, renews the experiment with a Glove, in a couple of thousand lines more of tedious imitation of 'Cort Mantel,'[241] Crône, 22,990-24,719. This glove renders the right side of the body invisible, when put on by man or woman free of blame, but leaves in the other case some portion of that side visible and bare. A great many ladies and knights don the glove, and all have reason to regret the trial except Arthur and Gawain.[242]

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

1. "Das Vasnachtspil mit der Kron."[243] A "master" has been sent to Arthur's court with a rich crown, which the King of Abian wishes to present to whichever king or lord it shall fit, and it will fit only those who have not "lost their honor." The King of Orient begins the trial, very much against his will: the crown turns to ram's horns. The King of Cyprus is obliged to follow, though he says the devil is in the crown: the crown hangs about his neck. Appeals are made to Arthur that the trial may now stop, so that the knights may devote themselves to the object for which they had come together, the service and honor of the ladies. But here Lanet, Arthur's sister (so she is styled), interposes, and expresses a hope that no honors are intended the queen, for she is not worthy of them, having broken her faith. Arthur is very angry, and says that Lanet has by her injurious language forfeited all her lands, and shall be expelled from court. (Cf. Der Lanethen Mantel, p. 261.) A knight begs the king to desist, for he who heeds every tale that is told of his wife shall never be easy.

2. The meistergesang 'Die Krone der Königin von Afion.'[244] While his majesty of Afion is holding a great feast, a youth enters the hall bearing a splendid crown, which has such chaste things in it that no king can wear it who haunts false love. The crown had been secretly made by order of the queen. The king wishes to buy the crown at any price, but the youth informs him that it is to be given free to the man who can wear it. The king asks the favor of being the first to try the crown: when put on his head it falls down to his back. The King of Portugal is eager to be next: the crown falls upon his shoulder. The King of Holland at first refuses to put on the crown, for there was magic in it, and it was only meant to shame them: but he is obliged to yield, and the crown goes to his girdle. The King of Cyprus offers himself to the adventure: the crown falls to his loins. And so with eleven. But there was a "Young Philips," King of England, who thought he might carry off the prize. His wife was gray and old and ugly, and quite willing, on this account, to overlook e bisserle Falschheit, and told him that he might spare himself. But he would not be prevented; so they put the crown on him, and it fitted to a hair. This makes an edifying pendant to 'Der Luneten Mantel,' p. 261.

Still another imitation is the Magical Bridge in the younger Titurel which Klingsor throws over the Sibra. Knights and ladies assembled at Arthur's court, if less than perfect[245], on attempting to ride over it are thrown off into the water, or stumble and fall on the bridge: ed. Hahn, p. 232 ff, st. 2337 ff. Hans Sachs has told this story twice, with Virgil for the magician: ed. Keller, Historia, König Artus mit der ehbrecher-brugk, II, 262; Goedeke, Dichtungen von Hans Sachs, I, 175. Kirchhof follows Hans Sachs in a story in Wendunmuth, ed. Österley, II, 38.

Florimel's Girdle, in the fourth book of the 'Fairy Queen,' canto v, once more, is formed on the same pattern.[246]

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

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

#Bed clothes and bed.# 'Gil Brenton,' #A#, #B#; the corresponding Swedish ballad, #A#, #B#, #E#; Danish, Grundtvig, No 275:[247] see pp 64, 65, of this volume.

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

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

#Flowers# [foliage]. 1. In the Sanskrit story of Guhasena, the merchant's son, and Devasmitá, this married pair, who are to be separated for a time, receive from Shíva each a red lotus: if either should be unfaithful, the lotus in the hand of the other would fade, but not otherwise: Kathá Sarit Ságara, ch. 13, Tawney, I, 86, Brockhaus, I, 137. 2. In the Tales of a Parrot, a soldier, going into service, receives from his wife a rose [flower, nosegay], which will keep fresh as long as she remains true: Rosen, Tuti-nameh, from the Turkish version, I, 109; Wickerhauser, also from the Turkish, p. 57; Iken, p. 30,[248] from the Persian of Kadiri. 3. So the knight Margon in the French romance of Perceforest, vol. IV, ch. 16 and 17. 4. In a Turkish tale found in a manuscript collection called 'Joy after Sorrow,' an architect or housewright, having to leave home for want of employment, is presented by his wife with a bunch of evergreen of the same property. 5. An English story of a wright reverts to the rose. A widow, having nothing else to give with her daughter, presents the bridegroom with a rose-garland, which will hold its hue while his wife is "stable:" 'The Wright's Chaste Wife,' by Adam of Cobsam, from a manuscript of about 1462, ed. Furnivall.[249]

#A shirt# [mantle]. 1. In connection with the same incidents there is substituted for the unfading flower, in Gesta Romanorum, 69, a shirt. This a knight's wife gives to a carpenter or housewright who has married her daughter, and it will not need washing, will not tear, wear, or change color, as long as both husband and wife are faithful, but will lose all its virtues if either is untrue. The shirt is given by a wife to a husband in several versions of an otherwise different story. 2. In the German meistergesang and the Flemish tale Alexander of Metz: Körner, Historische Volkslieder, p. 49, No 8; Goedeke, Deutsche Dichtung im Mittelalter, 2d ed., p. 569 ff; 'De Historia van Florentina,' etc., Van den Bergh, De nederlandsche Volksromaus, p. 52 f. 3. In the story 'Von dem König von Spanien[250] und seiner Frau,' Müllenhoff, Sagen, u. s. w., p. 586, No 607, a wife gives the shirt to her husband the morning after the wedding: it will always be white until she dies, when it will turn black, or unless she misbehaves, in which case it will be spotted. 4. 'Die getreue Frau,' Plönnies, in Wolf's Zeitschrift für deutsche Mythologie,' II, 377. An English princess gives her consort, a Spanish prince, at parting, a white shirt which will not spot as long as she is faithful. 5. 'Die treue Frau,' Curtze, Volksüberlieferungen aus Waldeck, p. 146. A merchant's son, married to a princess, goes away for a voyage; they change rings and shirts, and neither shirt will soil until one of the two shall be untrue. 6. 'Die getreue Frau,' J. W. Wolf, Deutsche Hausmärchen, at p. 102. A prince, going on a voyage, gives his sword to his wife; as long as the blade is not spotted, he is faithful. He receives from the princess a mantle; as long as it is white, her faith is inviolate.

#A picture.# For the rose, as in Perceforest, there is substituted, in a story otherwise essentially the same, a picture. A knight, compelled to leave his wife, receives from a magician a picture of her, small enough to carry in a box about his person, which will turn yellow if she is tempted, pale if she wavers, black if she yields, but will otherwise preserve its fresh hues: Bandello, Part I, nov. 21. This tale, translated in Painter's Palace of Pleasure, 1567 (ed. Haslewood, II, 471, nov. 28), furnished the plot for Massinger's 'Picture,' 1630. The miniature will keep its color as long as the woman is innocent and unattempted, will grow yellow if she is solicited but unconquered, and black if she surrenders: Act I, Scene 1. Bandello's story is also the foundation of Sénecé's tale, 'Filer le parfait amour,' with a wax image taking the place of the picture: Œuvres Choisies, ed. Charles et Cap, p. 95.[251]

#A ring.# The picture is exchanged for a ring in a French tale derived, and in parts almost translated, from Bandello's: the sixth in 'Les Faveurs et les Disgraces de l'Amour,' etc., said to have appeared in 1696.[252] A white stone set in the ring may become yellow or black under circumstances. Such a ring Rimnild gave Horn Child: when the stone should grow wan, her thoughts would have changed; should it grow red, she is no more a maid: see p. 192. A father, being required to leave three daughters, gives them each such a ring in Basile, Pentamerone, III, 4. The rings are changed into glass distaffs in 'L'Adroite Princesse,' an imitation of this story by Mlle. Lhéritier de Villaudon, which has sometimes been printed with Perrault's tales: Perrault, Contes des Fées, ed. Giraud, p. 239; Dunlop, ch. 13.

#A mirror#, in the History of Prince Zeyn Alasnam, reflecting the image of a chaste maid, will remain unblurred: Arabian Nights, Scott, IV, 120, 124; 1001 Nacht, Habicht, VI, 146, 150; etc. Virgil made a mirror of like property; it exposed the woman that was "new-fangle," wandelmüetic, by the ignition of a "worm" in the glass: Meisterlieder der Kolmarer Handschrift, Bartsch, p. 605 (Warnatsch). There is also one of these mirrors in Primaleon, l. ii, cap. 27; Rajna, Le Fonti dell' Orlando Furioso, p. 504, note 3. Alfred de Musset, in 'Barberine,' substitutes a pocket-mirror for the picture in Bandello, Part I, nov. 21: Œuvres Complètes, III, 378 ff.

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

A crystal #brook#, in the amiral's garden in Flor and Blancheflor, when crossed by a virgin remains pellucid, but in the other case becomes red, or turbid: ed. Du Méril, p. 75, vv 1811-14; Bekker, Berlin Academy, XLIV, 26, vv 2069-72; Fleck, ed. Sommer, p. 148, vv 4472-82; Swedish, ed. Klemming, p. 38, 1122-25; Lower Rhine, Haupt's Zeitschrift, XXI, 321, vv 57-62; Middle Greek, Bekker, Berlin Academy, 1845, p. 165, Wagner, Mediæval Greek Texts, p. 40 f, vv 1339-48; etc. In the English poem, Hartshorne's Ancient Metrical Tales, p. 93, if a clean maid wash her hands in the water, it remains quiet and clear; but if one who has lost her purity do this, the water will yell like mad and become red as blood.

The #stone# Aptor, in Wigamur, vv 1100-21, is red to the sight of clean man or woman, but misty to others: Von der Hagen und Büsching, Deutsche Gedichte des Mittelalters, p. 12 (Warnatsch).[253]

A #statue#, in an Italian ballad, moved its eyes when young women who had sacrificed their honor were presented to it: Ferraro, Canti popolari di Ferrara, Cento e Pontelagoscuro, p. 84, 'Il Conte Cagnolino.' There was said to be a statue of Venus in Constantinople which could not be approached by an incontinent woman without a very shameful exposure; and again, a pillar surmounted by four horns, which turned round three times if any κερατας came up to it.[254] Virgil, 'Filius,' made a brass statue which no misbehaving woman might touch, and a vicious one received violent blows from it: Meisterlieder der Kolmarer Handschrift, Bartsch, p. 604, 14th century. This statue would bite off the fingers of an adulteress if they were put in its mouth, according to a poem of the same century published by Bartsch in Germania, IV, 237; and a third version makes the statue do this to all perjurers, agreeing in other respects with the second: Kolmarer Meisterlieder, as before, p. 338. In the two last the offence of the wife causes a horn to grow out of the husband's forehead. Much of the story in these poems is derived from the fifteenth tale of the Shukasaptati, where a woman offers to pass between the legs of a statue of a Yaksha, which only an innocent one can do: Benfey, Pantschatantra, I, 457.[255]

According to a popular belief in Austria, says J. Grimm, you may know a clean maid by her being able to blow out a candle with one puff and to light it again with another. The phrase was known in Spain: "Matar un candil con un soplo y encenderlo con otro." Grimm adds that it is an article of popular faith in India that a virgin can make a ball of water, or carry water in a sieve: Rechtsalterthümer, p. 932.[256]

An ordeal for chastity is a feature in several of the Greek romances. In Heliodorus's Æthiopica, X, 8, 9, victims to be offered to the sun and moon, who must be pure, are obliged to mount a #brazier# covered with a golden grating. The soles of those who are less than perfect are burned. Theagenes and Chariclea experience no inconvenience. The Clitophon and Leucippe of Achilles Tatius, VIII, 6, 13, 14, has a #cave# in the grove of Diana of Ephesus, in which they shut up a woman. If it is a virgin, a delicious melody is presently heard from a syrinx, the doors open of themselves, and the woman comes out crowned with pine leaves; if not a virgin, a wail is heard, and the woman is never seen again. There is also a not perfectly convincing trial, by the Stygian #water#, in § 12, which seems to be imitated in the Hysmine and Hysminias of Eustathius [Eumathius], VIII, 7, XI, 17. In the temple of Diana, at Artycomis, stands a statue of the goddess, with bow in hand, and from about her feet flows water like a roaring river. A woman, crowned with laurel, being put in, she will float quietly, if all is right; but should she not have kept her allegiance to Dian, the goddess bends her bow as if to shoot at her head, which causes the culprit to duck, and the water carries off her wreath.[257]

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

Herodotus relates, II, 111, that Pheron, son of Sesostris, after a blindness of ten years' duration, received an intimation from an oracle that he would recover his sight upon following a certain prescription, such as we are assured is still thought well of in Egypt in cases of ophthalmia. For this the coöperation of a chaste woman was indispensable. Repeatedly balked, the king finally regained his vision, and collecting in a town many women of whom he had vainly hoped aid, in which number his queen was included, he set fire to the place and burned both it and them, and then married the woman to whom he was so much indebted. (First cited in the Gentleman's Magazine, 1795, vol. 65, I, 114.) The coincidence with foregoing tales is certainly curious, but to all appearance accidental.[258]

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

* * * * *

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

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

1 In the third day of May to Carleile did come A kind curteous child, that cold much of wisdome.

2 A kirtle and a mantle this child had vppon, With 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, K_ing_ Arthur, sitting att thy meate! And the goodly Queene Gueneuer! I canott her fforgett.

5 'I tell you lords in this hall, I hett you all heede, Except you be the more surer, is you for to dread.'

6 He plucked out of his potewer, and longer wold not dwell, He pulled forth a pretty mantle, betweene two nut-shells.

7 'Haue thou here,' K_ing_ Arthure, haue thou heere of mee; Giue itt to thy comely queene, shapen as itt is alreadye.

8 'Itt shall neu_er_ become _tha_t wiffe _tha_t hath once done amisse:' Then euery k_nigh_t in the k_ing_s court began to care for his.

9 Forth came dame Gueneuer, to the mantle shee her bed; The ladye shee was new-fangle, but yett shee was affrayd.

10 When shee had taken the mantle, shee stoode as she had beene madd; It was from the top to the toe as sheeres had itt shread.

11 One while was itt gaule, another while was itt greene; Another while was itt wadded; ill itt did her beseeme.

12 Another while was it blacke, and bore the worst hue; 'By my troth,' q_uo_th K_ing_ Arthur, 'I thinke thou be not true.'

13 Shee threw downe the mantle, _tha_t 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 _tha_t had wrought, And bade a vengeance on his crowne _tha_t hither hath itt brought.

15 'I had rather be in a wood, vnder a greene tree, Then in K_ing_ Arthurs court shamed for to bee.'

16 Kay called forth his ladye, and bade her come neere; Saies, 'Madam, and thou be guiltye, I pray thee hold thee there.'

17 Forth came his ladye shortlye and anon, Boldlye to the mantle then is shee gone.

18 When she had tane the mantle, and cast it her about, Then was shee bare all aboue the buttocckes.

19 Then euery knight _tha_t was in the kings court Talked, laughed, and showted, full oft att _tha_t sport.

20 Shee threw downe the mantle, _tha_t bright was of blee, Ffast with a red rudd to her chamber can shee flee.

21 Forth came an old k_night_, pattering ore a creede, And he _pro_ferred to this little boy twenty markes to his meede,

22 And 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 _tha_t was made, Shee had no more left on her but a tassell and a threed: Then euery k_night_ in the k_ing_s court bade euill might shee speed.

24 Shee threw downe the mantle, _tha_t bright was of blee, And fast w_i_th a redd rudd to her chamber can shee flee.

25 Craddocke called forth his ladye, and bade her come in; Saith, 'Winne this mantle, ladye, with a litle dinne.

26 'Winne this mantle, ladye, and it shalbe thine If thou neuer did amisse since thou wast mine.'

27 Forth came Craddockes ladye shortlye and anon, But boldlye to the mantle then is shee gone.

28 When shee had tane the mantle, and cast itt her about, Vpp att her great toe itt began to crinkle and crowt; Shee said, 'Bowe downe, mantle, and shame me not for nought.

29 'Once I did amisse, I tell you certainlye, When I kist Craddockes mouth vnder a greene tree, When I kist Craddockes mouth before he marryed mee.'

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

31 Seemelye of coulour, glittering like gold; Then euery k_nigh_t in Arthurs court did her behold.

32 Then spake dame Gueneuer to Arthur our king: 'She hath tane yonder mantle, not with wright but w_i_th wronge!

33 'See you not yonder woman _tha_t maketh her selfe soe clene? I haue seene tane out of her bedd of men fiueteene;

34 'Preists, clarkes, and wedded men, from her by-deene; Yett shee taketh the mantle, and maketh her-selfe cleane!'

35 Then spake the litle boy _tha_t kept the mantle in hold; Sayes 'K_ing_, chasten thy wiffe; of her words shee is to bold.

36 'Shee is a bitch and a witch, and a whore bold; King, in thine owne hall thou art a cuchold.'

37 The litle boy stoode looking ou_e_r a dore; He was ware of a wyld bore, wold haue werryed a man.

38 He pulld forth a wood kniffe, fast thither _tha_t he ran; He brought in the bores head, and quitted him like a man.

39 He brought in the bores head, and was wonderous bold; He said there was neu_e_r a cucholds kniffe carue itt that cold.

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

41 K_ing_ Arthur and the child stood looking them vpon; All their kniues edges turned backe againe.

42 Craddoccke had a litle kniue of iron and of steele; He birtled the bores head wonderous weele, _Tha_t euery k_nigh_t in the k_ing_s court had a morssell.

43 The litle boy had a horne, of red gold _tha_t 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, and some on their knee; He _tha_t cold not hitt his mouth put it in his eye; And he _tha_t was a cuckold, euery man might him see.

45 Craddoccke wan the horne and the bores head; His ladye wan the mantle vnto her meede; Euerye such a lonely ladye, God send her well to speede!

* * * * *

& is printed ~and~, wherever it occurs.

2^3. MS. might be read ~branches~.

5^2. all heate.

6^4. 2 nut-shells.

8^4. his wiffe.

9^2. biled. "Query the ~le~ in the MS." Furnivall.

18^4. _Perhaps the last word was originally ~tout~, as Mr T. Wright has suggested._

19^2. lauged.

21^4. 20 markes.

22^2. willignglye.

33^2. MS. perhaps has ~cleare~ altered to ~clene~.

33^4. fiueteeene.

37^1. A litle.

37^2. Perhaps, as Percy suggested, two lines have dropped out after this, and the two which follow belong with the next stanza.

40^1, 41^3. kiues.

41^1. Arthus.

44^2. sone on.

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

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

[213] The custom of Arthur not to eat till he had heard of some adventure or strange news was confined to those days when he held full court, according to Perceval le Gallois, II, 217, 15,664-71, and the Roman de Perceval, fol. lxxviii. It is mentioned, with the same limitations, I suppose, in the Roman de Lancelot, III, fol. lxxxii, and we learn from this last romance, I, fol. xxxvi, that Arthur was accustomed to hold a court and wear his crown five times in the year, at Easter, Ascension-day, Pentecost, All Saints, and Christmas. The Roman de Merlin, II, lvi^b, or, as cited by Southey, II, 48, 49, says that "King Arthur, after his first dinner at Logres, when he brought home his bride, made a vow that while he wore a crown he never would seat himself at table till some adventure had occurred." In Malory's King Arthur, Kay reminds the king that this had been the old custom of his court at Pentecost. Arthur is said to observe this custom on Christmas, "vpon such a dere day," in Sir Gawayn and the Green Knight, Madden, p. 6, vv 90-99. Messire Gauvain says "à feste ne mangast, devant," etc., p. 2, vv 18-21. Wolfram von Eschenbach's Parzival does not limit the custom to high holidays, ed. Bartsch, I, 331, vv 875-79; and see Riddarasögur, Parcevals Saga, etc., ed. Kölbing, p. 26. Neither does Wigalois, vv 247-51, or a fragment of Daniel von Blühenthal, Symbolæ ad literaturam Teutonicam, p. 465, cited by Benecke, Wigalois, p. 436 f, or the Färöe Galians kvæði, Kölbing, in Germania, XX, 397. See Madden's Syr Gawayne, which has furnished much of this note, pp 310-12; Southey's King Arthur, II, 203, 462. Robin Hood imitates Arthur: see the beginning of the Little Gest.

[214]

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

Por tot le royaume de France, N'en voudroie je estre cert; Quar qui sa bone amie pert Molt a perdu, ce m'est avis.' 818-25.

[215] See also Brynjúlfsson, Saga af Tristram ok Ísönd, samt Möttuls Saga, Udtog, pp 318-26, Copenhagen, 1878. There is a general presumption that the larger part of the works translated for King Hákon were derived from England. C. & W., p. 47.

[216] That is, the current one. The Samson saga professes to supply the earlier history. Samson's father is another Arthur, king of England. An abstract of so much of the saga as pertains to the Mantle is given by Cederschiöld and Wulff, p. 90f. Warnatsch, p. 73 f, shows that the Rímur and Samson had probably a common source, independent of the Möttulssaga.

[217] By Warnatsch, who gives the text with the corresponding passages of the fabliau in a parallel column, pp 8-54: the argument for Heinrich's authorship, pp 85-105. 'Der Mantel' had been previously printed in Haupt and Hoffmann's Altdeutsche Blätter, II, 217, and by Müllenhoff in his Altdeutsche Sprachproben, p. 125. Of this poem, which Warnatsch, pp 105-110, holds to be a fragment of a lost romance of Lanzelet, written before the 'Crône,' only 994 verses are left. Deducting about a hundred of introduction, there are some 782 German against some 314 French verses, an excess which is owing, no doubt, largely to insertions and expansions on the part of Heinrich, but in some measure to the existing texts of the fabliau having suffered abridgment. The whole matter of the church service, with the going and coming, is dispatched in less than a dozen verses in the French, but occupies more than seventy in German, and just here we read in the French:

Ci ne vueil je plus demorer, Ni de noient fere lone conte, Si con l'estoire le raconte.

But possibly the last verse should be taken with what follows.

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

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

[220] Not even for Ginovere hübsch unde guot, or Enîte diu reine. The queen has always been heedful of her acts, and has never done anything wrong: doch ist siu an den gedenken missevarn, Heaven knows how. Ulrich is very feeble here.

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

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

[222] For this enchanter see Le Livre de Karados in Perceval le Gallois, ed. Potvin, II, 118 ff. It is not said in the printed copy that he sent the mantle [horn].

[223] Another copy, assigned to the end of the 14th century, from the Kolmar MS., Barisch, p. 373, No LXIX (Warnatsch).

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

[225] The Dean of Lismore's Book, edited by Rev. Thomas M'Lauchlan, p. 72 of the translation, 50/51 of the original. Repeated in Campbell's Heroic Gaelic Ballads, p. 138 f, 'The Maid of the White Mantle.' Mr Campbell remarks: "This ballad, or the story of it, is known in Irish writings. It is not remembered in Scotland now." Mr Wright cites this poem, Archæologia Cambrensis, p. 14 f, 39 f.

[226] Cf. Arthur in the Lai du Corn and Fraw Tristerat Horn, a little further on.

[227] Wolf at first speaks of the lai as being made over into the fabliau, in regular court style, ganz nach höfischer Weise, about the middle of the 13th century; then goes on to say that even if the author of the fabliau followed another version of the story, he must have known the jongleur's poem, because he has repeated some of the introductory lines of the lai. This excellent scholar happened, for once, not to observe that the first fourteen lines of the lai, excepting the fourth, which is questionable, are in a longer metre than the rest of the poem, in eights and sevens, not sixes, and the first three of the lai, which agree with the first three of the fabliau, in the eight-syllable verse of the latter; so that it was not the author of the fabliau that borrowed. Warnatsch (who has also made this last remark) has noted other agreements between lai and fabliau, p. 61. Both of these acknowledge their derivation from an earlier dit, estoire, not having which we shall find it hard to determine by which and from what the borrowing was done.

[228] Montpellier MS.

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

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

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

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

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

[233] Warnatsch shows that Heinrich cannot have derived any part of his Trinkhornprobe from the Perceval of Chrestien, characteristic agreements with Perceval being entirely wanting. There are agreements with the lai, many more with the fabliau; and Heinrich's poem, so far as it is not of his own invention, he believes to be compounded from his own version of the fabliau and some lost version of the Horn-test: pp 111-114.

[234] The principal variations of this name, of which the Welsh Caradoc is assumed to be the original, are: Craddocke (English ballad); Carados, Caradox (Cort Mantel); Karodes (Scalachronica); Caraduz (Crône, 2309, elsewhere) Karadas; Carigras, Kaligras (Rímur); Karodeus, Caraduel (Perceval, 12,466, 12,457, 12,491, but generally), Carados, -ot, or; Caraduel (Messire Gauvain, 3943); Garadue (Lai du Corn); Karadin (Möttuls Saga). Garadue probably==Caraduel, which, in Percival twice, and once in Messire Gauvain, is used for Carados, through confusion with Arthur's residence, Carduel, Cardoil. So Karadas is twice put in the Crône, 16,726, 16,743, for Karidol==Cardoil. Might not Karadin have been written for Karadiu?

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

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

Before leaving these drinking-tests, mention may be made of Oberon's gold cup, which, upon his passing his right hand three times round it and making the sign of the cross, fills with wine enough for all the living and the dead; but no one can drink s'il n'est preudom, et nes et purs et sans pecié mortel: Huon de Bordeaux, ed. Guessard et Grandmaison, p. 109 f, vv 3652-69.

[237] The Myvyrian Archæology of Wales, II, 13, triad 54==triad 103, p. 73; p. 17, triad 78==triad 108, p. 73.

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

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

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

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

[241] Heinrich seeks to put his wearisome invention off on Chrestien de Troyes. Warnatsch argues with force against any authorship but Heinrich's, pp 116 ff.

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

In the first two probations a false heart is the corpus delicti; something is said of carnal offences, but not very distinctly.

The scope of the glove is of the widest. It takes cognizance of rede und gedanc in maids, werc und gedanc in wives, tugent und manheit, unzuht und zageheit, in men. One must have known as little what one was convicted of as if one had been in the hands of the Holy Office.

[243] Fastnachtspiele aus dem fünfzehnten Jahrhundert, Zweiter Theil, p. 654, No 80.

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

[245] A man must be "clear as beryl." One of the knights is tumbled into the water for having kissed a lady; but this is according to the code, for he had done it without leave. We learn from Perceval that kissing is permissible; marry, not without the lady be willing. 'Die bruck zu Karidol' is alluded to in 'Der Spiegel,' Meister Alswert, ed. Holland u. Keller, p. 179, vv 10-13. (Goedeke.) A man who has transferred his devotion from an earlier love to the image of a lady shown him in a mirror says the bridge would have thrown him over.

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

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

[248] Neither the Sanskrit Shukasaptati nor Nakshabi's Persian version, made early in the fourteenth century, has been published. The Turkish version is said to have been made in the second half of the next century, for Bajazet II. Kadiri's is probably of the seventeenth century. An English and Persian version (Kadiri's), 1801, has the tale at p. 43; Small's English, from a Hindustani version of Kadiri, 1875, at p. 40.

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

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

[251] All these examples of the probation by flowers, shirt, or picture are noticed in Loiseleur Deslongchamps, Essai sur les Fables Indiennes, p. 107 ff; or in Von der Hagen's Gesammtabenteuer, III, lxxxiv ff; or in an article by Reinhold Köhler, of his usual excellence, in Jahrbuch für romanische und englische Literatur, VIII, 44 ff.

[252] Köhler, as above, p. 60 f.

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

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

[255] The Meisterlieder and the Indian tale are cited by Warnatsch. Virgil's statue was circumvented by an artifice which is employed in this tale of the Shukasaptati, and in other oriental stories presumably derived from it; and so was the well-known Bocca della Verità, Kaiserchronik, Massmann, pp 448 f. The Bocca della Verità bit off the fingers of perjurers, but took no particular cognizance of the unchaste. A barley-corn [grain of wheat], again, which stood on end when any false oath was sworn over it, Jülg, Mongolische Märchensammlung, Die Geschichte des Ardschi-Bordschi Chan, pp 250-52, cited by Benfey, Pantschatantra, I, 458, and referred to by Warnatsch, does not belong with special tests of chastity.

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

[257] These are all noted in Liebrecht's Dunlop, pp 11, 16, 33. The spring, says the author of Hysmine, served as good a purpose for Artycomis as the Rhine did for the Celts; referring to a test of the legitimacy of children by swinging or dipping them in the Rhine, which the "Celts" practiced, according to a poem in the Anthology: Jacobs, II, 42 f, No 125; Grimm, Deutsche Rechtsalterthümer, p. 935 (Warnatsch).

[258] Besides sources specially referred to, there may be mentioned, as particularly useful for the history of these tests. Legrand, Fabliaux, 1779, I, 60, 76-78; Dunlop's History of Fiction, 1814, in many places, with Liebrecht's notes, 1851; Grässe, Sagenkreise, 1842, pp 185-87; Von der Hagen's Gesammtabenteuer, 1850, III, lxxxiv-xc, cxxxv f.

KING ARTHUR AND KING CORNWALL

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

The mutilation of the earlier pages of the Percy manuscript leaves us in possession of only one half of this ballad, and that half in eight fragments, so that even the outline of the story cannot be fully made out.[259] We have, to be sure, the whole of a French poem which must be regarded as the probable source of the ballad, and, in view of the recklessness of the destroyer Time, may take comfort; for there are few things in this kind that the Middle Ages have bequeathed which we could not better spare. But the losses from the English ballad are still very regrettable, since from what is in our hands we can see that the story was treated in an original way, and so much so that comparison does not stead us materially.

'King Arthur and King Cornwall' is apparently an imitation, or a traditional variation, of Charlemagne's Journey to Jerusalem and Constantinople, a chanson de geste of complete individuality and of remarkable interest. This all but incomparable relic exists in only a single manuscript,[260] and that ill written and not older than the end of the thirteenth century, while the poem itself may be assigned to the beginning of the twelfth, if not to the latter part of the eleventh.[261] Subsequently, the story, with modifications, was introduced into the romance of Galien, and in this setting it occurs in three forms, two manuscript of the fifteenth century, and the third a printed edition of the date 1500. These are all in prose, but betray by metrical remains imbedded in them their descent from a romance in verse, which there are reasons for putting at least as early as the beginning of the fourteenth century.[262]

A very little of the story, and this little much changed, is found in Italian romances of Charles's Journey to Spain and of Ogier the Dane. The derivation from Galien is patent.[263]

The Journey of Charlemagne achieved great popularity, as it needs must. It forms a section of the Karlamagnus Saga, a prose translation into Norse of gestes of Charles and his peers, made in the thirteenth century, and probably for King Hákon the Old, though this is not expressly said, as in the case of the 'Mantle.' Through the Norwegian version the story of Charles's journey passed into the other Scandinavian dialects. There is a Swedish version, slightly defective, existing in a manuscript earlier than 1450, and known to be older than the manuscript, and a Danish abridgment, thought to have been made from the Swedish version, is preserved in a manuscript dated 1480, which again is probably derived from an elder. Like the 'Mantle,' the Journey of Charlemagne is treated in Icelandic Rímur, the oldest manuscript being put at about 1500. These Rhymes (Geiplur, Gabs, Japes), though their basis is the Norwegian saga, present variations from the existing manuscripts of this saga. There is also a Färöe traditional ballad upon this theme, 'Geipa-táttur.' This ballad has much that is peculiar to itself.[264]

Charlemagne's Journey was also turned into Welsh in the thirteenth century. Three versions are known, of which the best is in the Red Book of Hergest.[265]

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

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

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

Charlemagne gave his people a handsome equipment, but not of arms. They left behind them their lances and swords, and took the pilgrim's staff and scrip. When they came to a great plain it appeared that the number was not less than eighty thousand: but we do not have to drag this host through the story, which concerns itself only with Charles and his peers. They arrived at Jerusalem one fine day, selected their inns, and went to the minster. Here Jesus and his apostles had sung mass, and the chairs which they had occupied were still there. Charles seated himself in the middle one, his peers on either side. A Jew came in, and, seeing Charles, fell to trembling; so fierce was the countenance of the emperor that he dared not look at it, but fled from the church to the patriarch, and begged to be baptized, for God himself and the twelve apostles were come. The patriarch went to the church, in procession, with his clergy. Charles rose and made a profound salutation, the priest and the monarch embraced, and the patriarch inquired who it was that had assumed to enter that church as he had done. "Charles is my name," was the answer. "Twelve kings have I conquered, and I am seeking a thirteenth whom I have heard of. I have come to Jerusalem to adore the cross and the sepulchre." The patriarch proving gracious, Charles went on to ask for relics to take home with him. "A plentet en avrez," says the patriarch; "St Simeon's arm, St Lazarus's head, St Stephen's--" "Thanks!" "The sudarium, one of the nails, the crown of thorns, the cup, the dish, the knife, some of St Peter's beard, some hairs from his head--" "Thanks!" "Some of Mary's milk, of the holy shift--" And all these Charles received.[266] He stayed four months in Jerusalem, and began the church of St Mary. He presented the patriarch with a hundred mule-loads of gold and silver, and asked "his leave and pardon" to return to France: but first he would find out the king whom his wife had praised. They take the way through Jericho to gather palms. The relics are so strong that every stream they come to divides before them, every blind man receives sight, the crooked are made straight, and the dumb speak.[267] On reaching Constantinople they have ample reason to be impressed with the magnificence of the place. Passing twenty thousand knights, who are playing at chess and tables, dressed in pall and ermine, with fur cloaks training at their feet, and three thousand damsels in equally sumptuous attire, who are disporting with their lovers, they come to the king, who is at that moment taking his day at the plough, not on foot, goad in hand, but seated most splendidly in a chair drawn by mules, and holding a gold wand, the plough all gold, too; none of this elegance, however, impairing the straightness of his majesty's furrow. The kings exchange greetings. Charles tells Hugo that he is last from Jerusalem, and should be glad to see him and his knights. Hugo makes him free to stay a year, if he likes, unyokes the oxen, and conducts his guests to the palace.

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

The Franks, as it appears later, had drunk heavily at supper, and this must be their excuse for giving themselves over, when in a foreign country, to a usage or propensity which they had no doubt indulged in at home, and which is familiar in northern poetry and saga, that of making brags (gabs, Anglo-Saxon beót, gilp[268]). Charles began: Let Hugo arm his best man in two hauberks and two helms, and set him on a charger: then, if he will lend me his sword, I will with a blow cut through helms, hauberks, and saddle, and if I let it have its course, the blade shall never be recovered but by digging a spear's depth in the ground. "Perdy," says the man in hiding, "what a fool King Hugo was when he gave you lodging!"

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

The emperor next called upon Oliver, whose gab was:

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

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

Archbishop Turpin's brag was next in order: it would have been more in keeping for Turpin of Hounslow Heath, and we have all seen it performed in the travelling circus. While three of the king's best horses are running at full speed on the plain, he will overtake and mount the foremost, passing the others, and will keep four big apples in constant motion from one hand to the other; if he lets one fall, put out his eyes.[269] "A good brag this," is the comment of the simple scout (l'escolte), "and no shame to my lord."

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

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

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

When the devout emperor of the west came from mass the next morning (Hugo was evidently not in a state of mind to go), he advanced to meet his brother of Constantinople, olive branch in hand; but Hugo called out from far off, "Charles, why did you make me the butt of your brags and your scorns?" and repeated that all must be done, or thirteen heads would fall. Charles replied that they had drunk a good deal of wine the night before, and that it was the custom for the French when they had gone to bed to allow themselves in jesting. He desired to speak with his knights. When they were together, the emperor said that they had drunk too much, and had uttered what they ought not. He caused the relics to be brought, and they all fell to praying and beating their breasts, that they might be saved from Hugo's wrath, when lo, an angel appeared, who bade them not be afraid; they had committed a great folly yesterday, and must never brag again, but for this time, "Go, begin, not one of them shall fail."[270]

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

Charles in the tree heard Hugo in the tower making his moan: he would give the emperor all his treasure, would become his man and hold his kingdom of him. The emperor was moved, and prayed that the flood might stop, and at once the water began to ebb. Hugo was able to descend from his tower, and he came to Charles, under an "ympe tree," and repeated what he had uttered in the moment of extremity. "Do you want the rest of the gabs?" asked Charles. "Ne de ceste semaine," replied Hugo. "Then, since you are my man," said the emperor, "we will make a holiday and wear our crowns together." When the French saw the two monarchs walking together, and Charles overtopping Hugo by fifteen inches, they said the queen was a fool to compare anybody with him.

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

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

The pilgrimage which, to save his dignity, Charles makes a cover for his visit to the rival king forms no part of Arthur's programme.[271] The five assume a palmer's weed simply for disguise, and travel east and west, in many a strange country, only to arrive at Cornwall, so very little a way from home.

The proud porter of Cornwall's gate, a minion swain, befittingly clad in a suit of gold, for his master is the richest king in Christendom, or yet in heathenness, is evidently impressed with Arthur's bearing, as is quite the rule in such cases:[272] he has been porter thirty years and three, but [has never seen the like]. Cornwall would naturally ask the pilgrims some questions. From their mentioning some shrine of Our Lady he infers that they have been in Britain,--Little Britain we must suppose to be meant. Cornwall asks if they ever knew King Arthur, and boasts that he had lived seven years in Little Britain, and had had a daughter by Arthur's wife, now a lady of radiant beauty, and Arthur has none such.[273] He then sends for his steed, which he can ride three times as far in a day as Arthur can any of his, and we may suppose that he also exhibits to his guests a horn and a sword of remarkable properties, and a Bur-low-Beanie, or Billy-Blin, a seven-headed, fire-breathing fiend whom he has in his service. Arthur is then conducted to bed, and the Billy-Blin, shut up, as far as we can make out, in some sort of barrel, or other vessel,[274] is set by Arthur's bed-side to hear and report the talk of the pilgrims. Now, it would seem, the knights make each their vow or brag. Arthur's is that he will be the death of Cornwall King before he sees Little Britain. Gawain, who represents Oliver, will have Cornwall's daughter home with him. Here there is an unlucky gap. Tristram should undertake to carry off the horn, Marramiles the steed, and Sir Bredbeddle the sword. But first it would be necessary to subdue the loathly fiend. Bredbeddle goes to work without dallying, bursts open the rub-chadler with his sword, and fights the fire-breathing monster in a style that is a joy to see; but sword, knife, and axe all break, and he is left without a weapon. Yet he had something better to fall back on, and that was a little book which he had found by the seaside, no doubt in the course of those long travels which conducted the pilgrims from Little Britain to Cornwall. It was probably a book of Evangiles; our Lord had written it with his hands and sealed it with his blood. With this little book, which in a manner takes the place of the relics in the French tale, for the safety of the pilgrims and the accomplishment of their vows are secured through it, Bredbeddle conjures the Burlow-beanie, and shuts him up till wanted in a "wall of stone," which reminds us of the place in which Hugo's spy is concealed. He then reports to Arthur, who has a great desire to see the fiend in all his terrors, and, upon the king's promising to stand firm, Bredbeddle makes the fiend start out again, with his seven heads and the fire flying out of his mouth. The Billy-Blin is now entirely amenable to command: Bredbeddle has only to "conjure" him to do a thing, and it is done. First he fetches down the steed. Marramiles, who perhaps had vowed to bring off the horse, considers that he is the man to ride him, but finds he can do nothing with him, and has to call on Bredbeddle for help. The Billy-Blin is required to tell how the steed is to be ridden, and reveals that three strokes of a gold wand which stands in Cornwall's study-window will make him spring like spark from brand. And so it comes out that Cornwall is a magician. Next the horn has to be fetched, but, when brought, it cannot be sounded. For this a certain powder is required. This the fiend procures, and Tristram blows a blast which rends the horn up to the midst.[275] Finally the Billy-Blin is conjured to fetch the sword, and with this sword Arthur goes and strikes off Cornwall's head. So Arthur keeps his vow, and, so far as we can see, all the rest are in a condition to keep theirs.

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

The Färöe ballad, 'Geipa-táttur,' exists in four versions: #A#, Svabo's manuscript collection, 1782, III, 1, 85 stanzas; #B#, Sandøbog, 1822, p. 49, 140 stanzas; #C#, Fugløbog, c. 1840, p. 9, 120 stanzas; #D#, Syderø version, obtained by Hammershaimb, 1848, 103 stanzas.[276] It repeats the story of the Norse saga, with a moderate number of traditional accretions and changes. The emperor, from his throne, asks his champions where is his superior [equal]. They all drop their heads; no one ventures to answer but the queen, who better had been silent. "The emperor of Constantinople" (Hákin, #D#), she says, "is thy superior." "If he is not," answers Karl, "thou shalt burn on bale." In #B#, when they have already started for Constantinople, Turpin persuades them to go rather to Jerusalem: in the other versions it must be assumed that the holy city was on the route. As Karl enters the church the bells ring and the candles light of themselves, #C#, #D#. There are thirteen seats in the choir: Karl takes the one that Jesus had occupied, and the peers those of the apostles. A heathen tells the patriarch[277] that the Lord is come down from heaven, #C#, #D#. The patriarch proceeds to the church, with no attendance but his altar-book [singing from his altar-book]; he asks Karl what he has come for, and Karl replies, to see the halidoms, #A#, #C#, #D#. In #B# the patriarch presents himself to the emperor at his lodging, and inquires his purpose; and, learning that he is on his way to Constantinople, for glory, advises him first to go to the church, where the ways and means of success are to be found. The patriarch gives Karl some of the relics: the napkin on which Jesus had wiped his hands, cups from which he had drunk, etc. Karl, in #A#, #C#, now announces that he is on his way to Constantinople; the patriarch begs him not to go, for he will have much to suffer. At the exterior gate of the palace will be twelve white bears, ready to go at him; the sight of his sword [of the holy napkin, #B#] will cause them to fall stone-dead, or at least harmless, #B#. At the gate next within there will be twelve wolf-dogs[278] [and further on twelve toads, #B#], which must be disposed of in like wise: etc. The castle stands on a hundred pillars, #A#, and is full of ingenious contrivances: the floor goes up to the sky, and the roof comes down to the ground, #B#. Karl now sets out, with the patriarch's blessing and escort. Before they reach the palace they come upon three hundred knights and ladies dancing, which also had been foretold, and at the portals of the palace they find and vanquish the formidable beasts. The palace is to the full as splendid and as artfully constructed as they had been informed: the floor goes up and the roof comes down, #B#; there are monstrous figures (?), with horns at their mouths, and upon a wind rising the horns all sound, the building begins to revolve, and the Frenchmen jump up, each clinging to the other, #B#, #C#, #D#. Karl remembers what his wife had said, #A#, #D#.

Of the reception by the monarch of Constantinople nothing further is said. We are immediately taken to the bedroom, in which there are twelve beds, with a thirteenth in the middle, and also a stone arch, or vault, inside of which is a man with a candle. Karl proposes that they shall choose feats, make boasts, rouses [skemtar, jests, #C#]. These would inevitably be more or less deranged and corrupted in the course of tradition. #A# and #C# have lost many. Karl's boast, dropped in #B#, #C#, is that he will smite King Hákin, so that the sword's point shall stick in the ground, #D#; hit the emperor on the neck and knock him off his horse, #A#. Roland, in all, will blow the emperor's hair off his head with the blast of his horn. Oliver's remains as in the French poem. William of Orange's ball is changed to a bolt. The exploit with the horses and apples is assigned to Bernard in #D#, the only version which preserves it, as in the Norse saga; and, as in the saga again, it is Turpin, and not Bernard, who brings in the river upon the town, and forces the king to take refuge in the tower.

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

It is manifest that Charlemagne's pilgrimage to Jerusalem and the visit to the king of Constantinople, though somewhat intimately combined in the old French geste, were originally distinct narratives. As far as we can judge, nothing of the pilgrimage was retained by the English ballad. We are not certain, even, that it is Charlemagne's visit to Hugo upon which the ballad was formed, though the great popularity of the French poem makes this altogether likely. As M. Gaston Paris has said and shown,[279] the visit to Hugo is one of a cycle of tales of which the framework is this: that a king who regards himself as the richest or most magnificent in the world is told that there is somebody that outstrips him, and undertakes a visit to his rival to determine which surpasses the other, threatening death to the person who has disturbed his self-complacency, in case the rival should turn out to be his inferior. A familiar example is afforded by the tale of Aboulcassem, the first of the Mille et un Jours. Haroun Alraschid was incessantly boasting that no prince in the world was so generous as he.[280] The vizier Giafar humbly exhorted the caliph not to praise himself, but to leave that to others. The caliph, much piqued, demanded, Do you then know anybody who compares with me? Giafar felt compelled to reply that there was a young man at Basra, who, though in a private station, was not inferior even to the caliph in point of generosity. Haroun was very angry, and, on Giafar's persisting in what he had said, had the vizier arrested, and finally resolved to go to Basra to see with his own eyes: if Giafar should have spoken the truth, he should be rewarded, but in the other event he should forfeit his life.[281]

This story, it is true, shows no trace of the gabs which Charlemagne and the peers make, and which Hugo requires to be accomplished on pain of death. The gabs are a well-known North-European custom, and need not be sought for further; but the requiring by one king of certain feats to be executed by another under a heavy penalty is a feature of a large class of Eastern tales of which there has already been occasion to speak: see 'The Elfin Knight,' p. 11. The demand in these, however, is made not in person, but through an ambassador. The combination of a personal visit with a task to be performed under penalty of death is seen in the Vafþrúðnismál, where Odin, disguised as a traveller, seeks a contest in knowledge with the wisest of the giants.[282]

The story of the gabs has been retold in two modern imitations: very indifferently by Nivelle de la Chaussée, 'Le Roi Hugon,' Œuvres, t. V, supplément, p. 66, ed. 1778, and well by M. J. Chénier, 'Les Miracles,' III, 259, ed. 1824.[283] Uhland treated the subject dramatically in a composition which has not been published: Keller, Altfranzösische Sagen, 1876, Inhalt (Koschwitz).

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

* * * * * * *

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

2 Then bespake Lady Qu_een_ Gueneuer, And these were the words said shee: 'I know where a round table is, thou noble k_ing_, Is worth thy round table and other such three.

3 'The trestle that stands vnder this round table,' she said, 'Lowe downe to the mould, It is worth thy round table, thou worthy k_ing_, Thy halls, and all thy gold.

4 'The place where this round table stands in, . . . . . . . It is worth thy castle, thy gold, thy fee, And all good Litle Britaine.'

5 'Where may that table be, lady?' q_uo_th hee, 'Or where may all that goodly building be?' 'You shall it seeke,' shee says, 'till you it find, For you shall neuer gett more of me.'

6 Then bespake him noble K_ing_ Arthur, These were the words said hee: 'He make mine avow to God, And alsoe to the Trinity,

7 'He never sleepe one night there as I doe another, Till _tha_t round table I see: S_ir_ Marramiles and S_ir_ Tristeram, Fellowes _tha_t ye shall bee.

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

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

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

* * * * * * *

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

12 Shooes of gold the porter had on, And all his other rayment was vnto the same: 'Now, by my faith,' saies noble K_ing_ Arthur, 'Yonder is a minion swaine.'

13 Then bespake noble K_ing_ Arthur, These were the words says hee: 'Come hither, thou proud porter, I pray thee come hither to me.

14 'I haue two poore rings of my finger, The better of them Ile giue to thee; Tell who may be lord of this castle,' he sayes, 'Or who is lord in this cuntry?'

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

16 And then bespake him noble K_ing_ Arthur, These were the words sayes hee: 'I haue two poore rings of my finger, The better of them Ile giue thee, If thou wilt greete him well, Cornewall K_ing_, And greete him well from me.

17 'Pray him for one nights lodging and two meales meate, For his love that dyed vppon a tree; Of one ghesting and two meales meate, For his loue that dyed vppon a tree.

18 'Of one ghesting, of two meales meate, For his love that was of virgin borne, And in the morning _tha_t we may scape away, Either w_i_thout scath or scorne.'

19 Then forth is gone this proud porter, As fast as he cold hye, And when he came befor Cornewall K_ing_, He kneeled downe on his knee.

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

* * * * * * *

21 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Our Lady was borne; then thought Cornewall K_ing_ These palmers had beene in Britt_aine_.

22 Then bespake him Cornwall King, These were the words he said there: 'Did you euer know a comely k_ing_, His name was King Arthur?'

23 And then bespake him noble K_ing_ Arthur, These were the words said hee: 'I doe not know that comly k_ing_, But once my selfe I did him see.' Then bespake Cornwall K_ing_ againe, These were the words said he:

24 Sayes, 'Seuen yeere I was clad and fed, In Litle Brittaine, in a bower; I had a daughter by K_ing_ Arthurs wife, _Tha_t now is called my flower; For K_ing_ Arthur, that kindly cockward, Hath none such in his bower.

25 'For I durst sweare, and saue my othe, _Tha_t same lady soe bright, That a man _tha_t were laid on his death bed Wold open his eyes on her to haue sight.' 'Now, by my faith,' sayes noble K_ing_ Arthur, 'And that's a full faire wight!'

26 And then bespake Cornewall [King] againe, And these were the words he said: 'Come hither, fiue or three of my knights, And feitch me downe my steed; King Arthur, that foule cockeward, Hath none such, if he had need.

27 'For I can ryde him as far on a day As King Arthur can doe any of his on three; And is it not a pleasure for a k_ing_ When he shall ryde forth on his iourney?

28 'For the eyes that beene in his head, Thé glister as doth the gleed.' 'Now, by my faith,' says noble King Arthur, '_Tha_t is a well faire steed.'

* * * * * * *

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

30 Then K_ing_ Arthur to his bed was brought, A greeiued man was hee; And soe were all his fellowes with him, From him thé thought neuer to flee.

31 Then take they did that lodly groome, And under the rub-chadler closed was hee, And he was set by K_ing_ Arthurs bed-side, To heere theire talke and theire comu_n_ye;

32 _Tha_t he might come forth, and make p_ro_clamation, Long before it was day; It was more for K_ing_ Cornwalls pleasure, Then it was for K_ing_ Arthurs pay.

33 And when K_ing_ Arthur in his bed was laid, These were the words said hee: 'Ile make mine avow to God, And alsoe to the Trinity, That Ile be the bane of Cornwall Kinge, Litle Brittaine or euer I see!'

34 'It is an vnaduised vow,' saies Gawaine the gay, 'As ever k_ing_ hard make I; But wee _tha_t beene fiue Christian men, Of the christen faith are wee, And we shall fight against anoynted k_ing_ And all his armorie.'

35 And then bespake him noble Arthur, And these were the words said he: 'Why, if thou be afraid, S_ir_ Gawaine the gay, Goe home, and drinke wine in thine owne country.'

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

37 'Ile make mine avow to God, And alsoe to the Trinity, _Tha_t I will haue yonder faire lady To Litle Brittaine with mee.

38 'Ile hose her hourly to my heart, And with her Ile worke my will;' . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

* * * * * * *

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

40 And then, bespake S_i_r Bredbeddle, And these were the words said he: 'Why, I will wrestle w_i_th yon lodly feend, God, my gouernor thou wilt bee!'

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

42 He sayes, 'Collen brand Ile haue in my hand, And a Millaine knife fast by me knee, And a Danish axe fast in my hands, _Tha_t a sure weapon I thinke wilbe.'

43 Then with his Collen brand _tha_t he had in his hand The bunge of that rub-chandler he burst in three; W_i_th that start out a lodly feend, W_i_th seuen heads, and one body.

44 The fyer towards the element flew, Out of his mouth, where was great plentie; The knight stoode in the middle and fought, _Tha_t it was great ioy to see.

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

46 But now is the knight left w_i_thout any weapons, And alacke! it was the more pitty; But a surer weapon then he had one, Had neuer l_ord_ in Christentye; And all was but one litle booke, He found it by the side of the sea.

47 He found it at the sea-side, Wrucked upp in a floode; Our L_ord_ had written it w_i_th his hands, And sealed it w_i_th his bloode.

* * * * * * *

48 'That thou doe not s ... But ly still in that wall of stone, Till I haue beene with noble K_ing_ Arthur, And told him what I haue done.'

49 And when he came to the k_ing_s chamber, He cold of his curtesie: Says, 'Sleepe you, wake you, noble K_ing_ Arthur? And euer Iesus waken yee!'

50 'Nay, I am not sleeping, I am waking,' These were the words said hee; 'Ffor thee I haue card; how hast thou fared? O gentle knight, let me see.'

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

52 And then bespake him K_ing_ Arthur, 'Alas! thow gentle knight, how may this be, That I might see him in the same licknesse _Tha_t he stood vnto thee?'

53 And then bespake him the Greene Knight, These were the words said hee: 'If youle stand stifly in the battell stronge, For I haue won all the victory.'

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

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

56 W_i_th that start out a lodly feend, W_i_th seuen heads, and one body; The fier towards the element flaugh, Out of his mouth, where was great plenty.

57 The knight stood in the middle p ... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

* * * * * * *

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

59 And then bespake him the Greene Knight, And these were the words said he: Saith, 'I coniure thee, thou fowle feend, _Tha_t thou feitch downe the steed that we see.'

60 And then forth is gone Burlow-beanie, As fast as he cold hie, And feitch he did _tha_t faire steed, And came againe by and by.

61 Then bespake him S_ir_ Marramiles, And these were the words said hee: 'Riding of this steed, brother Bredbeddle, The mastery belongs to me.'

62 Marramiles tooke the steed to his hand, To ryd him he was full bold; He cold noe more make him goe Then a child of three yeere old.

63 He laid vppon him w_i_th heele and hand, W_i_th yard that was soe fell; 'Helpe! brother Bredbeddle,' says Marramile, 'For I thinke he be the devill of hell.

64 'Helpe! brother Bredbeddle,' says Marramile, 'Helpe! for Christs pittye; Ffor w_i_thout thy help, brother Bredbeddle, He will neuer be rydden for me.'

65 Then bespake him S_ir_ Bredbeddle, These were the words said he: 'I coniure thee, thou Burlow-beane, Thou tell me how this steed was riddin in his country.'

66 He saith, 'there is a gold wand Stands in K_ing_ Cornwalls study windowe; . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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

68 And then bespake him the Greene Knight, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

* * * * * * *

69 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A lowd blast he may blow then.

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

71 Then forth is gone Burlow-beanie, As fast as he cold hie, And feich he did the powder-box, And came againe by and by.

72 Then S_ir_ Tristeram tooke powder forth of _tha_t box, And blent it w_i_th warme sweet milke, And there put it vnto that horne, And swilled it about in that ilke.

73 Then he tooke the horne in his hand, And a lowd blast he blew; He rent the horne vp to the midst, All his ffellowes this thé knew.

74 Then bespake him the Greene Knight, These were the words said he: Saies, 'I coniure thee, thou Burlow-beanie, _Tha_t thou feitch me the sword _tha_t I see.'

75 Then forth is gone Burlow-beanie, As fast as he cold hie, And feitch he did that faire sword, And came againe by and by.

76 Then bespake him Sir Bredbeddle, To the k_ing_ these words said he: 'Take this sword in thy hand, thou noble K_ing_ A_rthur_, For the vowes sake _tha_t thou made Ile giue it th[ee,] And goe strike off K_ing_ Cornewalls head, In bed were he doth lye.'

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

78 He put the head vpon a swords point, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

* * * * * * *

* * * * *

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

come here Cuz_en_ Gawaine so gay.

Furnivall says "~the bottoms of the letters left suit better those in the text~" as given. 4 and 5, 8 and 9, are joined in the MS.

10^4. Half a page is gone from the MS., or about 38 or 40 lines; and so after 20^2, 28^4, 38^2, 47^4, 57^1, 68^1, 78^1.

14^2. they better.

17^3, 18^1. The first two words are hard to make out, and look like ~A vne~.

18^2. boirne.

19^1. his gone.

20^2. The lower half of the letters is gone.

21. In MS.:

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

28^4. ? MS. Only the upper part of the letters is left.

31^2. under thrub chadler.

35. After this stanza is written, in the left margin of the MS., ~The 3d Part~.

38^1. homly to my hurt. Madden read ~hourly~.

39^1. The top line is pared away.

41^2. they words.

43^2. of the trubchandler.

46^3. then had he.

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

66. Attached to 65 in MS.

69^4. ? MS.

76^{5,6}. Joined with 77 in MS. & and Arabic numerals have been frequently written out.

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

[260] British Museum (but now missing), King's Library, 16, E, VIII, fol. 131, recto: "Ci comence le liucr_e_ cu_m_ment charels de fraunce voiet in ierh_usale_m Et pur p_ar_ols sa feme a co_n_stanti_n_noble p_ur_ ver_e_ roy hugon." First published by Michel, London, 1836, and lately reëdited, with due care, by Koschwitz: Karls des Grossen Reise nach Jerusalem und Constantinopel, Heilbronn, 1880; 2d ed., 1883.

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

[262] Printed by Koschwitz in Sechs Bearbeitungen von Karls des Grossen Reise, the last from a somewhat later edition, pp. 40-133. The recovery of a metrical form of Galien is looked for. In the view of Gaston Paris, the Pilgrimage was made over (renouvelé) at the end of the twelfth or the beginning of the thirteenth century, and this rifacimento intercalated in Galien by some rhymer of the fourteenth. See his 'Galien,' in Hist. Litt. de la France, XXVIII, 221-239, for all that concerns the subject.

[263] Il Viaggio di Carlo Magno in Ispagna, pubblicato per cure di Antonio Ceruti, c. LI, II, 170: Rajna, Uggeri il Danese nella letteratura romanzesca degl' Italiani, Romania IV, 414 ff. A king of Portugal, of the faith of Apollo and Mahound, takes the place of the king of Constantinople in the former, and one Saracen or another in the several versions of the second. G. Paris, in Romania, IX, 3, 10, notes.

[264] The Norwegian version in Karlamagnus Saga ok Kappa hans, ed. Unger, p. 466, the Seventh Part. Both the Swedish and Danish are given in Storm's Sagnkredsene om Karl den Store, etc., Kristiania, 1874, pp. 228-245. For the sources, see p. 160 ff. The whole of the Danish Chronicle of Charlemagne is printed in Brandt's Romantisk Digtning fra Middelalderen, Copenhagen, 1877, the Journey to the Holy Land, p. 146 ff. Brandt does not admit that the Danish chronicle was translated from Swedish: p. 347. The 'Geiplur,' 968 vv, and one version of 'Geipa-táttur,' 340 vv, are included in Koschwitz's Sechs Bearbeitungen, p. 139 ff, p. 174 ff. For a discussion of them see Kölbing in Germania, XX, 233-239, and as to the relations of the several versions, etc., Koschwitz, in Romanische Studien, II, 1 ff, his Ueberlieferung und Sprache der Chanson du Voyage de Charlemagne, and Sechs Bearbeitungen, Einleitung. The Färöe ballad is thought to show traces in some places of Christiern Pedersen's edition of the Danish chronicle, 1584 (Kölbing, as above, 238, 239), or of stall prints founded on that. This does not, however, necessarily put the ballad into the sixteenth century. Might not Pedersen have had ballad authority for such changes and additions as he made? It may well be supposed that he had, and if what is peculiar to Pedersen may have come from ballads, we must hesitate to derive the ballads from Pedersen. It is, moreover, neither strange nor unexampled that popular ballads should be affected by tradition committed to print as well as by tradition still floating in memory. The Färöe copies of 'Greve Genselin,' for example, as Grundtvig remarks, I, 223, note, though undoubtedly original and independent of Danish, evince acquaintance with Vedel's printed text.

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

[266] There are some variations in the list of relics in the other versions. The Rímur say "many," without specifying.

[267] On the way from Jerusalem to Constantinople the French, according to Galien, were waylaid by several thousand Saracens. Three or four of the peers prepared for a fight, though armed only with swords ("which they never or only most reluctantly put off," Arsenal MS.), but Charles and the rest felt a better confidence in the relics, and through the prayers of the more prudent and pious of the company their foes were turned into rocks and stones.

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

[269] Excepting the Welsh translation, which conforms to the original, all other versions give Bernard's gab to Turpin, and most others Turpin's to Bernard. The Danish chronicle assigns the "grand three-horse act" to Gerard; the Färöe ballad omits it; the two manuscript Galiens attribute it to Bernard [Berart] de Mondidier, the printed Galien to Berenger. In these last the feat is, though enormously weighted with armor, to leap over two horses and come down on the back of the third so heavily as to break his bones. There are, in one version or another, other differences as to the feats.

[270] In Galien, Hugo is exceedingly frightened by Charlemagne's fierce demeanor and by what he is told by a recreant Frenchman who is living in exile at his court, and rouses the city for an assault on his guests, in which he loses two thousand of his people. A parley ensues. Hugo will hear of no accommodation unless the gabs are performed. "Content," says Charles, angrily, "they shall be, if you wish;" but he feels how great the peril is, and goes to church to invoke the aid of heaven, which is vouchsafed.

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

[272] Cf. 'Young Beichan,' where the porter has also served thirty years and three; 'The Grene Knight,' Percy MS., Hales and Furnivall, II, 62; the porter in Kilhwch and Olwen, Mabinogion, II, 255 f.

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

Arthur and three comrades return half frozen from a hunt. Arthur sits down at the fire to warm himself. The queen taunts him: she knows a knight who rides, winter and summer alike, in a simple shirt, chanting love-songs the while. Arthur resolves to go out with the three the next night to overhaul this hardy chevalier. The three attendants of the king have an encounter with him and fare hard at his hands, but Arthur has the advantage of the stranger, who reveals himself to the king as Guenever's first love, by name Gasozein, and shows a token which he had received from her.

[274]

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

Being unable to make anything of thrub, trub, I am compelled to conjecture the rub-chadler, that rub-chandler. The fiend is certainly closed under a barrel or tub, and I suppose a rubbish barrel or tub. Rubb, however derived, occurs in Icelandic in the sense of rubbish, and chalder, however derived, is a Scottish form of the familiar chaldron. Professor Skeat, with great probability, suggests that chadler==chaudeler, chaudière. Caldaria lignea are cited by Ducange. Cad or kad is well known in the sense barrel, and cadiolus, cadulus, are found in Ducange. Cadler, chadler, however, cannot be called a likely derivative from cad.

In stanza 48 the fiend, after he has been ousted from the "trubchandler," is told to "lie still in that wall of stone," which is perhaps his ordinary lair. The spy is concealed under a flight of stone steps in the French poem; in "a large hollow stone in the door outside" in the Welsh story; in a hollow pillar in Galien and the Rímur; in a stone vault in the Färöe ballad: Koschwitz, Karls Reise, p. 64; Sechs Bearbeitungen, pp 29, 52, 85, 117, 153, 179.

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

[276] The first has been printed by Kölbing in Koschwitz's Sechs Bearbeitungen, as already said. The four texts were most kindly communicated to me by Professor Grundtvig, a short time before his lamentable death, copied by his own hand in parallel columns, with a restoration of the order of the stanzas, which is considerably disturbed in all, and a few necessary emendations.

[277] Pól, #A#, #C#, Kortunatus, #B#, i. e. Koronatus (Grundtvig). Coronatus==clericus, tonsura seu corona clericali donatus: Ducange.

[278] The white bears and the wolf-dogs are found in another Färöe ballad, as yet unprinted, 'Ásmundar skeinkjari,' where they are subdued by an arm-ring and "rune-gold:" the white bears in a kindred ballad, Grundtvig, No 71, #A# 4, 5, 8, 9, #C# 6, 7, 13, quelled with a lily-twig; #E# 12, 13, with runes; and in No 70, #A# 28, #B# 27, 30. The source of this ballad is Fjölsvinnsmál, which has two watch-dogs in 13, 14. 'Kilhweh and Olwen,' Mabinogion, II, has a similar story, and there are nine watch-dogs, at p. 277. (Grundtvig.)

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

[280] The particular for which superiority is claimed will naturally vary. The author of Charlemagne's Journey has the good taste not to give prominence to simple riches, but in Galien riches is from the beginning the point. So none hath so much gold as Cornwall King. Solomon's fame is to exceed all the kings of the earth "for riches and for wisdom;" and although the queen of Sheba came to prove him with hard questions, she must have had the other matter also in view, for she says, The half was not told me; thy wisdom and prosperity exceedeth the fame which I heard: 1 Kings, x. Coming down to very late times, we observe that it is the wealth of the Abbot of Canterbury which exposes him to a visit from the king.

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

[282] Cited by G. Paris, who refers also to King Gylfi's expedition to Asgard (an imitation of Odin's to Vafþrúðnir), and sees some resemblance to the revolving palace of King Hugo in the vanishing mansion in which Gylfi is received in Gylfaginning; and again to Thor's visit to the giant Geirröðr, Skáldskaparmál, 18, which terminates by the giant's flinging a red-hot iron bar at Thor, who catches it and sends it back through an iron pillar, through Geirröðr skulking behind the pillar, through the wall of the house, and into the ground, a fair matching of Charlemagne's gab. (The giant Geirröðr, like Cornwall King, is skilled in magic.) The beginning of Biterolf and Dietleib also recalls that of Charlemagne's Journey. Biterolf, a Spanish king, hears from an old palmer, who has seen many a hero among Christians and heathens, that none is the equal of Attila. Biterolf had thought that he himself had no superior, and sets out with eleven chosen knights to see Etzel's court with his own eyes. Romania, IX, 9 f.

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

[283] G. Paris, Histoire Poétique de Charlemagne, p. 344.

THE MARRIAGE OF SIR GAWAIN

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

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

Arthur, apparently some day after Christmas, had been encountered at Tarn Wadling,[284] in the forest of Inglewood, by a bold baron armed with a club, who offered him the choice of fighting, or ransoming himself by coming back on New Year's day and bringing word what women most desire. Arthur puts this question in all quarters, and having collected many answers, in which, possibly, he had little confidence, he rides to keep his day. On the way he meets a frightfully ugly woman; she intimates that she could help him. Arthur promises her Gawain in marriage, if she will, and she imparts to him the right answer. Arthur finds the baron waiting for him at the tarn, and presents first the answers which he had collected and written down. These are contemptuously rejected. Arthur then says that he had met a lady on a moor, who had told him that a woman would have her will. The baron says that the misshapen lady on the moor was his sister, and he will burn her if he can get hold of her. Upon Arthur's return he tells his knights that he has a wife for one of them, and they ride with the king to see her, or perhaps for her to make her choice. When they see the bride, they decline the match in vehement terms, all but Gawain, who is somehow led to waive "a little foul sight and misliking." She is bedded in all her repulsiveness, and turns to a beautiful young woman. To try Gawain's compliance further, she asks him whether he will have her in this likeness by night only or only by day. Putting aside his own preference, Gawain leaves the choice to her, and this is all that is needed to keep her perpetually beautiful. For a stepmother had witched her to go on the wild moor in that fiendly shape until she should meet some knight who would let her have all her will. Her brother, under a like spell, was to challenge men either to fight with him at odds or to answer his hard question.

These incidents, with the variation that Arthur (who does not show all his customary chivalry in this ballad) waits for Gawain's consent before he promises him in marriage, are found in a romance, probably of the fifteenth century, printed in Madden's Syr Gawayne, and somewhat hastily pronounced by the editor to be "unquestionably the original of the mutilated poem in the Percy folio."[285]

Arthur, while hunting in Ingleswood, stalked and finally shot a great hart, which fell in a fern-brake. While the king, alone and far from his men, was engaged in making the assay, there appeared a groom, bearing the quaint name of Gromer Somer Joure,[286] who grimly told him that he meant now to requite him for having taken away his lands. Arthur represented that it would be a shame to knighthood for an armed man to kill a man in green, and offered him any satisfaction. The only terms Gromer would grant were that Arthur should come back alone to that place that day twelvemonth, and then tell him what women love best; not bringing the right answer, he was to lose his head. The king gave his oath, and they parted. The knights, summoned by the king's bugle, found him in heavy cheer, and the reason he would at first tell no man, but after a while took Gawain into confidence. Gawain advised that they two should ride into strange country in different directions, put the question to every man and woman they met, and write the answers in a book. This they did, and each made a large collection. Gawain thought they could not fail, but the king was anxious, and considered that it would be prudent to spend the only month that was left in prosecuting the inquiry in the region of Ingleswood. Gawain agreed that it was good to be speering, and bade the king doubt not that some of his saws should help at need.

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

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

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

Dame Ragnell was waiting for Arthur, too, and would hear of nothing but immediate fulfillment of her bargain. She followed the king to his court, and required him to produce Gawain instantly, who came and plighted his troth. The queen begged her to be married privately, and early in the morning. Dame Ragnell would consent to no such arrangement. She would not go to church till high-mass time, and she would dine in the open hall. At her wedding she was dressed more splendidly than the queen, and she sat at the head of the table at the dinner afterwards. There her appetite was all but as horrible as her person: she ate three capons, three curlews, and great bake meats, all that was set before her, less and more.[287]

A leaf is wanting now, but what followed is easily imagined. She chided Gawain for his offishness, and begged him to kiss her, at least. "I will do more," said Gawain, and, turning, beheld the fairest creature he ever saw. But the transformed lady told him that her beauty would not hold: he must choose whether she should be fair by night and foul by day, or fair by day and foul by night.[288] Gawain said the choice was hard, and left all to her. "Gramercy," said the lady, "thou shalt have me fair both day and night." Then she told him that her step-dame had turned her into that monstrous shape by necromancy, not to recover her own till the best knight in England had wedded her and given her sovereignty in all points.[289] A charming little scene follows, vv 715-99, in which Arthur visits Gawain in the morning, fearing lest the fiend may have slain him. Something of this may very likely have been in that half page of the ballad which is lost after stanza 48.

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

Gower relates, Confessio Amantis, Book First, I, 89-104, ed. Pauli, that Florent, nephew of the emperor, as Gawain is of Arthur, slew Branchus, a man of high rank. Branchus's kin refrained from vengeance, out of fear of the emperor; but a shrewd lady, grandmother to Branchus, undertook to compass Florent's death in a way that should bring blame upon nobody. She sent for Florent, and told him that she would engage that he should not be molested by the family of Branchus if he could answer a question she would ask. He was to have a proper allowance of time to find the answer, but he was also to agree that his life should be forfeited unless his answer were right. Florent made oath to this agreement, and sought the opinions of the wisest people upon the subject, but their opinions were in no accord. Considering, therefore, that he must default, he took leave of the emperor, adjuring him to allow no revenge to be taken if he lost his life, and went to meet his fate. But on his way through a forest he saw an ugly old woman, who called to him to stop. This woman told him that he was going to certain death, and asked what he would give her to save him. He said, anything she should ask, and she required of him a promise of marriage. That he would not give. "Ride on to your death, then," said she. Florent began to reflect that the woman was very old, and might be hidden away somewhere till she died, and that there was no other chance of deliverance, and at last pledged his word that he would marry her if it should turn out that his life could be saved only through the answer that she should teach him. She was perfectly willing that he should try all other shifts first, but if they failed, then let him say that women cared most to be sovereign in love. Florent kept back this answer as long as he could. None of his own replies availed, and the lady who presided in judgment at last told him that he could be allowed but one more. Then he gave the old woman's answer, and was discharged, with a curse on her that told.[290]

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

The scene of Chaucer's tale, The Wife of Bath, returns to Arthur's court. One of the bachelors of the household, when returning from hawking, commits a rape, for which he is condemned to death. But the queen and other ladies intercede for him, and the king leaves his life at the disposal of the queen. The queen, like the shrewd lady in Gower, but with no intent to trapan the young man, says that his life shall depend upon his being able to tell her what women most desire, and gives him a year and a day to seek an answer. He makes extensive inquiries, but there is no region in which two creatures can be found to be of the same mind, and he turns homeward very downcast.

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

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

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

The Wife of Bath's Tale is made into a ballad, or what is called a sonnet, 'Of a Knight and a Fair Virgin,' in The Crown Garland of Golden Roses, compiled by Richard Johnson, not far from 1600: see the Percy Society reprint, edited by W. Chappell, vol. vi of the series, p. 68. Upon Chaucer's story is founded Voltaire's tale, admirable in its way, of Ce qui plaît aux Dames, 1762; of which the author writes, 1765, November 4, that it had had great success at Fontainebleau in the form of a comic opera, entitled La Fée Urgèle.[291] The amusing ballad of The Knight and Shepherd's Daughter has much in common with the Wife of Bath's Tale, and might, if we could trace its pedigree, go back to a common original.[292]

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

Grímr was on the verge of marriage with Lopthæna, but a week before the appointed day the bride was gone, and nobody knew what had become of her. Her father had given her a step-mother five years before, and the step-mother had been far from kind; but what then? Grímr was restless and unhappy, and got no tidings. A year of scarcity coming, he left home with two of his people. After an adventure with four trolls, he had a fight with twelve men, in which, though they were all slain, he lost his comrades and was very badly wounded. As he lay on the ground, looking only for death, a woman passed, if so she might be called; for she was not taller than a child of seven years, so stout that Grímr's arms would not go round her, misshapen, bald, black, ugly, and disgusting in every particular. She came up to Grímr, and asked him if he would accept his life from her. "Hardly," said he, "you are so loathsome." But life was precious, and he presently consented. She took him up and ran with him, as if he were a babe, till she came to a large cave; there she set him down, and it seemed to Grímr that she was uglier than before. "Now pay me for saving your life," she said, "and kiss me." "I cannot," said Grímr, "you look so diabolical." "Expect no help, then, from me," said she, "and I see that it will soon be all over with you." "Since it must be, loath as I am," said Grímr, and went and kissed her; she seemed not so bad to kiss as to look at. When night came she made up a bed, and asked Grímr whether he would lie alone or with her. "Alone," he answered. "Then," said she, "I shall take no pains about healing your wounds." Grímr said he would rather lie with her, if he had no other chance, and she bound up his wounds, so that he seemed to feel no more of them. No sooner was Grímr abed than he fell asleep, and when he woke, he saw lying by him almost the fairest woman he had ever laid eyes on, and marvellously like his true-love, Lopthæna. At the bedside he saw lying the troll-casing which she had worn; he jumped up and burned this. The woman was very faint; he sprinkled her with water, and she came to, and said, It is well for both of us; I saved thy life first, and thou hast freed me from bondage. It was indeed Lopthæna, whom the step-mother had transformed into a horrible shape, odious to men and trolls, which she should never come out of till a man should consent to three things,--which no man ever would,--to accept his life at her hands, to kiss her, and to share her bed. Gríms saga loðinkinna, Rafn, Fornaldar Sögur, II, 143-52.

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

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

1 Kinge Arthur liues in merry Carleile, And seemely is to see, And there he hath with him Queene Genev_er_, _Tha_t bride soe bright of blee.

2 And there he hath w_i_th [him] Queene Genever, _Tha_t bride soe bright in bower, And all his barons about him stoode, _Tha_t were both stiffe and stowre.

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

* * * * * * *

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

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

6 And when he came to merry Carlile, To his chamber he is gone, And ther came to him his cozen S_i_r Gawaine, As he did make his mone.

7 And there came to him his cozen S_i_r Gawaine, _Tha_t 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, _Tha_t 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, W_i_th a great club vpon his backe, Standing stiffe and strong.

10 'And he asked me wether I wold fight Or from him I shold begone, O[r] else I must him a ransome pay, And soe dep_ar_t him from.

11 'To fight w_i_th him I saw noe cause; Methought it was not meet; For he was stiffe and strong w_i_th-all, His strokes were nothing sweete.

12 'Therefor this is my ransome, Gawaine, I ought to him to pay; I must come againe, as I am sworne, Vpon the New Yeers day;

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

* * * * * * *

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

15 And as he rode over a more, Hee see a lady where shee sate Betwixt an oke and a greene hollen; She was cladd in red scarlett.

16 Then there as shold haue stood her mouth, Then there was sett her eye; The other was in her forhead fast, The way that she might see.

17 Her nose was crooked and turnd outward, Her mouth stood foule a-wry; A worse formed lady than shee was, Neuer man saw w_i_th his eye.

18 To halch vpon him, K_ing_ Arthur, This lady was full faine, But K_ing_ Arthur had forgott his lesson, What he shold say againe.

19 'What knight art thou,' the lady sayd, 'That will not speak to me? Of me be thou nothing dismayd, Tho I be vgly to see.

20 'For I haue halched you curteouslye, And you will not me againe; Yett I may happen S_i_r Knight,' shee said, 'To ease thee of thy paine.'

21 'Giue thou ease me, lady,' he said, 'Or helpe me any thing, Thou shalt have gentle Gawaine, my cozen, And marry him w_i_th a ring.'

22 'Why, if I help thee not, thou noble K_ing_ Arthur, Of thy owne hearts desiringe, Of gentle Gawaine ... . . . . . . .

* * * * * * *

23 And when he came to the Tearne Wadling, The baron there cold he finde, W_i_th a great weapon on his backe, Standing stiffe and stronge.

24 And then he tooke K_ing_ Arthurs letters in his hands, And away he cold them fling, And then he puld out a good browne sword, And cryd himselfe a k_ing_.

25 And he sayd, I have thee and 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, And bad him hold his hand: 'And giue me leaue to speake my mind In defence of all my land.'

27 He said, As I came over a more, I see a lady where shee sate Betweene an oke and a green hollen; Shee was clad in red scarlett.

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

29 He sayes, An early vengeance light on her! She walkes on yonder more; It was my sister that told thee this, And she is a misshappen hore.

30 But heer Ile make mine avow to God To doe her an euill turne, For an euer I may thate fowle theefe get, In a fyer I will her burne.

* * * * * * *

31 Sir Lancelott and S_i_r Steven bold, They rode w_i_th them that day, And the formost of the company There rode the steward Kay.

32 Soe did S_i_r Banier and S_i_r Bore, S_i_r Garrett with them soe gay, Soe did S_i_r Tristeram _tha_t gentle k_nigh_t, To the forrest fresh and gay.

33 And when he came to the greene forrest, Vnderneath a greene holly tree, Their sate that lady in red scarlet _Tha_t vnseemly was to see.

34 S_i_r Kay beheld this ladys face, And looked vppon her swire; 'Whosoeuer kisses this lady,' he sayes, 'Of his kisse he stands in feare.'

35 S_i_r Kay beheld the lady againe, And looked vpon her snout; 'Whosoeuer kisses this lady,' he saies, 'Of his kisse he stands in doubt.'

36 'Peace, coz_en_ Kay,' then said S_i_r Gawaine, 'Amend thee of thy life; For there is a knight amongst vs all _Tha_t must marry her to his wife.'

37 'What! wedd her to wiffe!' then said S_i_r Kay, 'In the diuells name anon! Gett me a wiffe where-ere I may, For I had rather be slaine!'

38 Then some tooke vp their hawkes in hast, And some tooke vp their hounds, And some sware they wold not marry her For citty nor for towne.

39 And then be-spake him noble K_ing_ Arthur, And sware there by this day, 'For a litle foule sight and misliking . . . . . . .

* * * * * * *

40 Then shee said, Choose thee, gentle Gawaine, Truth as I doe say, Wether thou wilt haue me in this liknesse In the night or else in the day.

41 And 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 w_i_th thee shold play-- Yet I had rather, if I might, Haue thee fowle in the day.

43 'What! when lords goe w_i_th ther feires,' shee said, 'Both to the ale and wine, Alas! then I must hyde my selfe, I must not goe withinne.'

44 And then bespake him gentle Gawaine, Said, Lady, that's but skill; And because thou art my owne lady, Thou shalt haue all thy will.

45 Then she said, Blesed be thou, gentle Gawain, This day _tha_t I thee see, For as thou seest me att this time, From hencforth I wilbe.

46 My father was an old knight, And yett it chanced soe _Tha_t 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, And there I must walke in womans liknesse, Most like a feend of hell.

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

* * * * * * *

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

50 'Come kisse her, brother Kay,' then said S_i_r Gawaine, 'And amend thé of thy liffe; I sweare this is the same lady _Tha_t I marryed to my wiffe.'

51 S_i_r Kay kissed that lady bright, Standing vpon his ffeete; He swore, as he was trew knight, The spice was neuer soe sweete.

52 'Well, coz_en_ Gawaine,' sayes S_i_r 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 S_i_r Gawaine; 'For my vnckle Arthurs sake I am glad as grasse wold be of raine, Great ioy that I may take.'

54 S_i_r Gawaine tooke the lady by the one arme, S_i_r Kay tooke her by the tother, They led her straight to K_ing_ Arthur, As they were brother and brother.

55 K_ing_ Arthur welcomed them there all, And soe did Lady Geneuer his queene, W_i_th all the knights of the Round Table, Most seemly to be scene.

56 K_ing_ Arthur beheld that lady faire That was soe faire and bright, He thanked Christ in Trinity For S_i_r Gawaine that gentle knight.

57 Soe did the knights, both more and lesse, Reioyced all _tha_t day For the good chance that hapened was To S_i_r Gawaine and his lady gay.

* * * * *

1^3. Qqueene.

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

19^1. Perhaps ~sayes~.

23^2. he fimde.

25^1. Perhaps ~sayes~.

26^2. Perhaps ~hands~.

27^1. ~He~ altered from ~the~ in MS.

31. "The 2d Part" is written here in the left margin of the MS. Furnivall.

34^2. her smire.

37^4. shaine.

41^2. w_i_th one.

43^1. seires.

44^2. a skill.

45^3. thou see

48^1. Carlist B ... ~&~ is printed ~and~.

[284] Still so called: near Aiketgate, Hesket. Lysons, Cumberland, p. 112.

[285] 'The Weddynge of S^r Gawen and Dame Ragnell,' Rawlinson MS., C 86, Bodleian Library, the portion containing the poem being paper, and indicating the close of Henry VII's reign. The poem is in six-line stanzas, and, with a leaf that is wanting, would amount to about 925 lines. Madden's Syr Gawayne, lxiv, lxvii, 26, 298^a-298^y.

[286] Sir Gromer occurs in "The Turke and Gowin," Percy MS., Hales and Furnivall, I, 102; Sir Grummore Grummorsum, "a good knight of Scotland," in Morte d'Arthur; ed. Wright, I, 286 and elsewhere (Madden).

[287] See 'King Henry,' the next ballad.

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

The having one shape by day and another by night is a common feature in popular tales: as, to be a bear by day and a man by night, Hrólfr Kraki's Saga, c. 26, Asbjørnsen og Moe, Norske Folkeeventyr, No 41; a lion by day and a man by night, Grimms, K. u. H. m., No 88; a crab by day and a man by night, B. Schmidt, Griechische Märchen, u. s. w., No 10; a snake by day and a man by night, Karadshitch, Volksmärchen der Serben, Nos 9, 10; a pumpkin by day and a man by night, A. & A. Schott, Walachische Mærchen, No 23; a ring by day, a man by night, Müllenhoff, No 27, p. 466, Karadshitch, No 6, Afanasief, VI, 189. Three princes in 'Kung Lindorm,' Nicolovius, Folklifwet, p. 48 ff, are cranes by day and men by night, the king himself being man by day and worm by night. The double shape is sometimes implied though not mentioned.

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

[290]

And whan that this matrone herde The maner how this knight answerde, She saide, Ha, treson, wo the be! That hast thus told the privete Which alle women most desire: I wolde that thou were a-fire!

So Sir Gawen and Dame Ragnell, vv 474 f, and our ballad, stanzas 29, 30.

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

[292] Chaucer's tale is commonly said to be derived from Gower's, but without sufficient reason. Vv 6507-14, ed. Tyrwhitt, are close to Dame Ragnell, 409-420. Gower may have got his from some Example-book. I have not seen it remarked, and therefore will note, that Example-books may have been known in England as early as 1000, for Aelfric seems to speak slightingly of them in his treatise on the Old Testament. The Proverbs, he says, is a "bigspellbóc, ná swilce gé secgað, ac wísdómes bigspell and warnung wið dysig," etc.

KING HENRY

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

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

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

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

The story is a variety of that which is found in 'The Marriage of Sir Gawain,' and has its parallel, as Scott observed, in an episode in Hrólfr Kraki's saga; #A#, Torfæus, Historia Hrolfi Krakii, c. vii, Havniæ, 1705; #B#, Fornaldar Sögur, Rafn, I, 30 f, c. 15.

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

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

The Finn were together one wild night, when there was rain and snow. An uncouth woman knocked at Fionn's door about midnight, and cried to him to let her in under cover. "Thou strange, ugly creature, with thy hair down to thy heels, how canst thou ask me to let thee in!" he answered. She went away, with a scream, and the whole scene was repeated with Oisean. Then she came to Diarmaid. "Thou art hideous," he said, "and thy hair is down to thy heels, but come in." When she had come in, she told Diarmaid that she had been travelling over ocean and sea for seven years, without being housed, till he had admitted her. She asked that she might come near the fire. "Come," said Diarmaid; but when she approached everybody retreated, because she was so hideous. She had not been long at the fire, when she wished to be under Diarmaid's blanket. "Thou art growing too bold," said he, "but come." She came under the blanket, and he turned a fold of it between them. "She was not long thus, when he gave a start, and he gazed at her, and he saw the finest drop of blood that ever was, from the beginning of the universe till the end of the world, at his side."

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

The monstrous deformity of the woman is a trait in the ballad of 'The Marriage of Sir Gawain,' and related stories, and is described in these with revolting details. Her exaggerated appetite also is found in the romance of The Wedding of Sir Gawen and Dame Ragnell, see p. 290. The occasion on which she exhibits it is there the wedding feast, and the scene consequently resembles, even more closely there than here, what we meet with in the Danish ballads of 'Greve Genselin,' Grundtvig, No 16, I, 222, and 'Tord af Havsgaard,' Grundtvig, No 1, I, 1, IV, 580 (==Kristensen, 'Thors Hammer,' I, 85, No 35) the latter founded on the þrymskviða, or Hamarsheimt, of the older Edda. In a Norwegian version of 'Greve Genselin,' Grundtvig, IV, 732, the feats of eating and drinking are performed not by the bride, but by an old woman who acts as bridesmaid, brúrekvinne.[293]

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

Scott's copy is translated by Schubart, p. 127, and by Gerhard, p. 129; Jamieson's, without the interpolations, after Aytoun, II, 22, by Knortz, Schottische Balladen, No 36.

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

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

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

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

5 Her head hat the reef-tree o the house, Her middle ye mot wel span; He's thrown to her his gay mantle, Says, 'Lady, hap your lingcan.'

6 Her teeth was a' like teather stakes, Her nose like club or mell; An I ken naething she 'peard to be, But the fiend that wons in hell.

7 'Some meat, some meat, ye King Henry, Some meat ye gie to me!' 'An what meat's in this house, lady, An what ha I to gie?' 'O ye do kill your berry-brown steed, An you bring him here to me.'

8 O whan he slew his berry-brown steed, Wow but his heart was sair! Shee eat him [a'] up, skin an bane, Left naething but hide an hair.

9 'Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henry, Mair meat ye gi to me!' 'An what meat's in this house, lady, An what ha I to gi?' 'O ye do kill your good gray-hounds, An ye bring them a' to me.'

10 O whan he slew his good gray-hounds, Wow but his heart was sair! She eat them a' up, skin an bane, Left naething but hide an hair.

11 'Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henry, Mair meat ye gi to me!' 'An what meat's i this house, lady, An what ha I to gi?' 'O ye do kill your gay gos-hawks, An ye bring them here to me.'

12 O whan he slew his gay gos-hawks, Wow but his heart was sair! She eat them a' up, skin an bane, Left naething but feathers bare.

13 'Some drink, some drink, now, King Henry, Some drink ye bring to me!' 'O what drink's i this house, lady, That you're nae welcome ti?' 'O ye sew up your horse's hide, An bring in a drink to me.'

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

16 O pu'd has he the heather green, An made to her a bed, An up has he taen his gay mantle, An oer it has he spread.

17 'Tak aff your claiths, now, King Henry, An lye down by my side!' 'O God forbid,' says King Henry, 'That ever the like betide; That ever the fiend that wons in hell Shoud streak down by my side.'

* * * * * * *

18 Whan night was gane, and day was come, An the sun shone throw the ha, The fairest lady that ever was seen Lay atween him an the wa.

19 'O well is me!' says King Henry, 'How lang'll this last wi me?' Then out it spake that fair lady, 'Even till the day you dee.

20 'For I've met wi mony a gentle knight That's gien me sic a fill, But never before wi a courteous knight That ga me a' my will.'

* * * * *

#a.#

13^6. shew.

19^1. will.

#b.#

1. The first stanza of the original of this copy, as cited by Anderson, is:

Let never a man a wooing wend That lacketh things three, A routh of gold, and open heart, An fu o charity.

1^4. And fu o courtesey.

2^1. And this was seen o.

2^3. And he has taen him to a haunted hunt's ha.

3^1. He's chaced the dun deer thro the wood.

3^3. in a' the herd.

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

And darkness coverd a' the hall, Where they sat at their meat; The gray dogs, youling, left their food, And crept to Henrie's feet.

And louder houled the rising wind And burst the fastned door; And in there came a griesly ghost, Stood stamping on the floor.

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

5^{3,4}.

Each frighted huntsman fled the ha, And left the king alone.

7^{4-6}.

That ye're nae wellcum tee?' 'O ye's gae kill your berry brown steed, And serve him up to me.'

9^4. That ye're na wellcum tee?

10^3. a' up, ane by ane.

11^{4-6}.

That I hae left to gie?' 'O ye do fell your gay goss-hawks, And bring them a' to me.'

12^1. he felled.

12^3. bane by bane.

14^2. And put in a pipe of wine.

14^3. up a' at ae draught.

14^4. drap therein.

15. Between ^2 and ^3:

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

15^3. O ye maun pu the green heather.

17^{1,2}.

Now swear, now swear, ye king Henrie, To take me for your bride.

18^1. When day was come, and night was gane.

19^3. And out and spak that ladye fair.

20.

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

[293] The like by a carlin at a birth-feast, 'Kællingen til Barsel,' Kristensen, II, 341, No 100, Landstad, p. 666, No 96; known also in Sweden. Again, by a fighting friar, 'Den stridbare Munken,' Arwidsson, I, 417. 'Greve Genselin' is translated by Prior, I, 173, and by Jamieson, Illustrations of Northern Antiquities, p. 310; 'Tord af Havsgaard' by Prior, I, 3.

KEMPY KAY

#A.# 'Kempy Kay.' Pitcairn's MSS, II, 125. Scotish Ballads and Songs [James Maidment], Edinb. 1859, p. 85; Sharpe's Ballad Book, p. 81.

#B.# 'Kempy Kaye.' #a.# Kinloch MSS, I, 65. #b.# Kinloch's Ballad Book, p. 41.

#C.# 'Kempy Kay,' or 'Kempy Kane,' Motherwell's MS., p. 193. The first stanza in Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xxiv, No XXX.

#D.# 'Kempy Kay,' Motherwell's MS., p. 192.

#E.# 'Drowsy Lane.' Campbell MSS, II, 122.

#F.# 'Bar aye your bower door weel.' Campbell MSS, II, 101.

#G.# 'King Knapperty.' Buchan's MSS, I, 133.

All these versions of 'Kempy Kay' are known, or may be presumed, to have been taken down within the first three decades of this century; #A# is traced as many years back into the last. The fourth stanza of #A# clearly belongs to some other ballad. Both #A# and #B# appear to have undergone some slight changes when published by Sharpe and Kinloch respectively. Some verses from this ballad have been adopted into one form of a still more unpleasant piece in the Campbell collection, concerning a wife who was "the queen of all sluts."[294]

Sharpe remarks: "This song my learned readers will perceive to be of Scandinavian origin, and that the wooer's name was probably suggested by Sir Kaye's of the Round Table.... The description of Bengoleer's daughter resembles that of the enchanted damsel who appeared to courteous King Henrie." It is among possibilities that the ballad was an outgrowth from some form of the story of The Marriage of Sir Gawain, in the Percy version of which the "unseemly" lady is so rudely commented on and rejected by Kay. This unseemly lady, in The Wedding of Gawen and Dame Ragnell, and her counterpart in 'King Henry,' who is of superhuman height, show an extravagant voracity which recalls the giantess in 'Greve Genselin.' In 'Greve Genselin,' a burlesque form of an heroic ballad which is preserved in a pure shape in three Färöe versions (Grundtvig, IV, 737-42), there are many kemps invited to the wedding, and in a little dance which is had the smallest kemp is fifteen ells to [below] the knee, Grundtvig, No 16, #A# 26, #B# 29, #C# 29. Kempy Kay has gigantic dimensions in #A# 7, #C# 9, #E# 7: teeth like tether-stakes, a nose three [nine, five] feet long, three ells [nine yards] between his shoulders, a span between his eyne.[295] Of the bride it is said in #A# 12 that her finger nails were like the teeth of a rake and her teeth like tether-stakes. This is not decisive; it is her ugliness, filthiness, and laziness that are made most of. We may assume that she would be in dimension and the shape of nature a match for the kemp, but she does not comport herself especially like a giantess.

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

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

1 Kempy Kaye's a wooing gane, Far, far ayont the sea, And he has met with an auld, auld man, His gudefaythir to be.

2 'It's I'm coming to court your daughter dear, And some part of your gear:' 'And by my sooth,' quoth Bengoleer, 'She'll sare a man a wear.

3 'My dochter she's a thrifty lass, She span seven year to me, And if it were weel counted up, Full three heire it would be.

4 'What's the matter wi you, my fair creature, You look so pale and wan? I'm sure you was once the fairest creature That ever the sun shined on.

5 'Gae scrape yoursel, and gae scart yoursel, And mak your brucket face clean, For the wooers are to be here to nighte, And your body's to be seen.'

6 Sae they scrapit her, and they scartit her, Like the face of an aussy pan; Syne in cam Kempy Kay himself, A clever and tall young man.

7 His teeth they were like tether-sticks, His nose was three fit lang, Between his shouthers was ells three, And tween his eyne a span.

8 He led his dochter by the hand, His dochter ben brought he: 'O is she not the fairest lass That's in great Christendye?'

9 Ilka hair intil her head Was like a heather-cowe, And ilka louse anunder it Was like a bruckit ewe.

10 She had tauchy teeth and kaily lips, And wide lugs, fou o hair; Her pouches fou o peasemeal-daighe A' hinging down her spare.

11 Ilka eye intil her head Was like a rotten plumbe, And down browed was the queyne, And sairly did she gloom.

12 Ilka nail upon her hand Was like an iron rake, And ilka tooth intil her head Was like a tether-stake.

* * * * * * *

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

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

1 Kempy Kaye is a wooing gane, Far ayont the sea, And there he met wi auld Goling, His gudefather to be, be, His gudefather to be.

2 'Whar are ye gaun, O Kempy Kaye, Whar are ye gaun sae sune?' 'O I am gaun to court a wife, And think na ye that's weel dune?'

3 'An ye be gaun to court a wife, As ye do tell to me, 'T is ye sal hae my Fusome Fug, Your ae wife for to be.'

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

5 'Rise up, rise up my Fusome Fug, And mak your foul face clean, For the brawest wooer that ere ye saw Is come develling doun the green.'

6 Up then rose the Fusome Fug, To mak her foul face clean; And aye she cursed her mither She had na water in.

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

8 She had a neis upon her face Was like an auld pat-fit; Atween her neis hot an her mon Was inch thick deep wi dirt.

9 She had twa een intil her head War like twa rotten plums; The heavy brows hung doun her face, And O I vow she glooms!

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

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

12 Whan thir twa lovers had met thegither, O kissing to get their fill, The slaver that hang atween their twa gabs Wad hae tetherd a ten year auld bill.

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

1 Kempy Kaye's a wooing gane, And far beyond the sea, a wee And there he met wi Drearylane, His gay gudefather to be. a wee

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

3 'My dochter she's a thrifty lass, She's spun this gay seven year, And if it come to gude guiding, It will be half a heer.'

4 'Rise up, rise up, ye dirty slut, And wash your foul face clean; The wooers will be here the night That suld been here yestreen.'

5 They took him ben to the fire en, And set him on a chair; He looked on the lass that he loved best, And thought she was wondrous fair.

6 The een that was in our bride's head Was like twa rotten plooms; She was a chaunler-chaftit quean, And O but she did gloom!

7 The skin that was on our bride's breast Was like a saffron bag, And aye her hand was at her neek, And riving up the scabs.

8 The hair that was on our bride's head Was like a heather-cow, And every louse that lookit out Was like a brockit ewe.

9 Betwixd Kempy's shouthers was three ells, His nose was nine feet lang, His teeth they were like tether sticks, Between his eyne a span.

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

Motherwell's MS., p. 192.

* * * * * * *

1 The father came unto the door, And keeked thro the key-hole, a wee And there he saw his dochter Jean, Sitting on a coal. a wee

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

3 She is to the stoups gane, There is nae water in; She's cursed the hands and ban'd the feet That did na bring it in.

4 Out then spak her auld mither, In her bed whare she lay: 'If there is nae water in the house, Gae harl her thro the lin.'

5 O she is to the taipy tapples gane, That stood for seven year, And there she washed her foul face clean, And dried it wi a huggar.

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

Campbell MSS, II, 122.

1 'Gud een, gud een,' says Chickmakin, 'Ye're welcome here,' says Drowsy Lane; 'I'm comd to court your daughter Jean, And marry her wi yer will, a wee.'

2 'My daughter Jean's a thrifty lass, She's spun these seven lang years to me, And gin she spin another seven, She'll munt a half an heir, a wee.'

3 Drowsy Lane, it's he's gane hame, And keekit through the hole, a wee And there he saw his daughter Jean A reeking oer the coal. a wee

4 'Get up, get up, ye dirty bitch, And wash yer foul face clean, For they are to be here the night That should hae been here yestreen.'

5 Up she rose, pat on her clothes, She's washen her foul face clean; She cursd the hands, she ban'd the feet, That wadna bring the water in.

6 She rubbit hersel, she scrubbit hersel, Wi the side of a rustit pan, a wee, And in a little came Chickmakin, A braw young lad indeed was he.

7 His teeth they were like tether-steeks, His nose was five feet lang; Between his shoulders was nine yards broad, And between his een a span.

8 Ilka hair into his head Was like a heather-cowe, And ilka louse that lookit out Was like a brookit ewe.

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

10 They twa kissd and they twa clapt, And they gaed to their bed, a wee, And at their head a knocking stane And at their feet a mell, a wee.

11 The auld wife she lay in her bed: 'And gin ye'll do my bidding a wee, And gin ye'll do my bidding,' quoth she, 'Yees whirl her oer the lea, a wee.'

Campbell MSS, II, 101.

1 As I cam oer yon misty muir, And oer yon grass-green hill, There I saw a campy carle Going to the mill. And bar aye yer bower door weel weel, And bar aye yer bower door weel.

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

3 'Get up, get up, ye fousome fag, And make yer face fou clean; For the wooers will be here the night, And your body will be seen.'

4 He gave her a gay cravat, 'T was of an auld horse-sheet; He gave her a gay goud ring, 'T was of an auld tree root.

5 He laid his arms about her neck, They were like kipple-roots; And aye he kissd her wi his lips, They were like meller's hoops.

6 When they were laid in marriage bed, And covered oer wi fail, The knocking mell below their heads Did serve them wondrous weel.

7 Ilka pap into her breasts Was like a saffron bag, And aye his hand at her a..e Was tearing up the scabs.

8 Ilka hair into her head Was like a heather-cow, And ilka louse that lookit out Was like a brookit ewe.

Buchan's MSS, I, 133.

1 King Knapperty he's a hunting gane, Oer hills and mountains high, high, high, A gude pike-staff intill his hand, And dulgets anew forbye, I, I, I, And dulgets anew forbye.

2 Then he met in wi an auld woman, Was feeding her flocks near by, I, I, I: 'I'm come a wooing to your daughter, And a very gude bargain am I, I, I.'

3 And she's awa to her wee hole house, Lookd in a wee chip hole, And there she saw her filthy wee flag, Was sitting athort the coal.

4 'Get up, get up, ye filthy foul flag, And make your foul face clean; There are wooers coming to the town, And your foul face mauna be seen.'

5 Then up she raise, an awa she gaes, And in at the back o the door, And there a pig o water she saw, 'T was seven years auld an mair.

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

7 King Knapperty he came in at the door, Stood even up in the floor; Altho that she had neer seen him before, She kent him to be her dear.

8 He has taen her in his arms twa, And kissd her, cheek and chin: 'I neer was kissd afore in my life, But this night got mony ane.'

9 He has put his hand in his pocket, And he's taen out a ring: Says, 'Take ye that, my dearest dear, It is made o the brazen pan.'

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

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

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

13 The draps that fell frae her twa een Woud have gard a froth-mill gang, An [the] clunkerts that hung at their heels Woud hae muckd an acre o land.

14 An ilka hair that was in their head Was like a heather-cow, And ilka tenant that it containd Was like a lintseed-bow.

* * * * *

#A.#

5^{3,4}. Var.

For Kempy Kay will be here the night Or else the morn at een.

9^4. Var. Was like a lintseed bow.

These variations are found in Sharpe's copy. The first seven stanzas are put in the order 1, 6, 7, 3, 2, 4, 5.

2^1. I'm coming.

3^4. Full ten wobs it would be.

4^{1,3}. fair maiden, fairest maiden.

5^2. bruchty.

6^3. And in.

7^4. Between his een.

10^1. ~tauchty~ is misprinted ~lauchty~.

10^4. War hinging.

11^3. An down down.

12^3. ~teeth~, no doubt to indicate the pronunciation.

#B. a.#

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

6^3. ~ae~, with ~ay~ in the margin: qu. ~aye as~?

#b.#

The variations of the ~Ballad Book~ are apparently arbitrary.

1^2. Far far.

8^4. o dirt.

After 9 follows:

Ilka hair that was on her head Was like a heather cow, And ilka Iouse that lookit out Was like a lintseed bow.

#a^4# succeeds, with ~Kempy Kaye~ for ~auld Goling~, and is necessarily transferred if the reading ~Kempy Kaye~ is retained.

#C.#

_The order of the first five stanzas in the MS is 1, 2, 5, 4, 3._

~A wee~ is the burden after every second and fourth verse, and so with #D#.

1^{1,2}. _In Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xxiv, No_ XXX,

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

3^2. years.

5^2. on a stool.

#D.#

The first stanza is numbered 3 in the MS., the second 5, and there is space left, as if for another, between 2 and 3.

#E.#

~A wee~, originally a burden at the middle and the end of the stanza, as in #C#, #D#, has been adopted into the verse in 1, 2, 6, 10(?), 11, in which stanzas the even lines are of four accents instead of three. 2, 6 can be easily restored, on the model of #C# 3, #A# 6.

5^4. in the water.

#G.#

~I, I, I~ is added as burden to every second and fourth line; except 1^2, which adds ~high, high~, and 2^4, only ~I, I~.

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

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

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

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

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

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

KEMP OWYNE

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

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

It is not, perhaps, material to explain how Owain, "the king's son Urien," happens to be awarded the adventure which here follows. It is enough that his right is as good as that of other knights to whom the same achievement has been assigned, though the romance, or, as the phrase used to be, "the book," says nothing upon the subject. Owain's slaying the fire-drake who was getting the better of the lion may have led to his name becoming associated with the still more gallant exploit of thrice kissing a fire-drake to effect a disenchantment. The ring in #A# 9 might more plausibly be regarded as being a repetition of that which Owain's lady gave him on leaving her for a twelvemonth's outing, a ring which would keep him from loss of blood, and also from prison, sickness, and defeat in battle--in short, preserve him against all the accidents which the knight suggested might prevent his holding his day--provided that he had it by him and thought on her. Ritson, Ywaine and Gawin, vv 1514-38.

But an Icelandic saga comes near enough to the story of the ballad as given in #A# to show where its connections lie. Alsól and a brother and sister are all transformed by a stepmother, a handsome woman, much, younger than her husband. Alsól's heavy weird is to be a nondescript monster with a horse's tail, hoofs, and mane, white eyes, big mouth, and huge hands, and never to be released from the spell till a king's son shall consent to kiss her. One night when Hjálmtèr had landed on a woody island, and it had fallen to him to keep watch, he heard a great din and crashing in the woods, so that the oaks trembled. Presently this monster came out of the thicket with a fine sword in her hand, such as he had not seen the like of. They had a colloquy, and he asked her to let him have the sword. She said he should not have it unless he would kiss her. "I will not kiss thy snout," said Hjálmtèr, "for mayhap I should stick to it." But something came into his mind which made him think better of her offer, and he said he was ready. "You must leap upon my neck, then," she said, "when I throw up the sword, and if you then hesitate, it will be your death." She threw up the sword, he leaped on her neck and kissed her, and she gave him the sword, with an augury of victory and good luck for him all his days. The retransformation does not occur on the spot, but further on Hjálmtèr meets Álsól as a young lady at the court of her brother, who has also been restored to his proper form and station; everything is explained; Hjálmtèr marries her, and his foster-brother her sister. Hjálmtèrs ok Ölvers Saga, cc 10, 22, Rafn, Fornaldar Sögur, III, 473 ff, 514 ff.

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

The #Danish# ballad, 'Jomfruen i Ormeham,' from MSS of the sixteenth and the seventeenth century, Grundtvig, No 59, II, 177, resembles both the first version of the Scottish ballad and the Icelandic saga in the points that the maid offers gifts and is rehabilitated by a kiss. The maid in her proper shape, which, it appears, she may resume for a portion of the day, stands at Sir Jenus's bedside and offers him gifts--five silver-bowls, all the gold in her kist, twelve foals, twelve boats--and ends with saying, "Were I a swain, as you are, I would betroth a maid." It is now close upon midnight, and she hints that he must be quick. But Jenus is fast asleep the while; twelve strikes, and the maid instantly turns into a little snake. The page, however, has been awake, and he repeats to his master all that has occurred.[296] Sir Jenus orders his horse, rides along a hillside, and sees the little snake in the grass. He bends over and kisses it, and it turns to a courteous maid, who thanks him, and offers him any boon he may ask. He asks her to be his, and as she has loved him before this, she has no difficulty in plighting him her troth.

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

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

The removal of a spell which compels man or woman to appear continuously or alternately as a monster, commonly a snake, by three kisses or by one, is a regular feature in the numerous German tales of Schlangenjungfrauen, Weissefrauen. Often the man is afraid to venture the third kiss, or even a single one. See Grimm, Deutsche Sagen, No 13, No 222; Dobeneck, Des deutschen Mittelalters Volksglauben, I, 18==Grimm, No 13; Mone's Anzeiger, III, 89, VII, 476; Panzer, Bayerische Sagen u. Bräuche, I, 196, No 214; Schönhuth, Die Burgen u.s.w. Badens u. der Pfalz, I, 105; Stöber, Die Sagen des Elsasses, p. 346, No 277, p. 248, No 190; Curtze, Volksüberlieferungen aus Waldeck, p. 198; Sommer, Sagen, Märchen u. Gebräuche aus Sachsen u. Thüringen, p. 21, No 16; Schambach u. Müller, p. 104, No 132; Müllenhoff, p. 580, No 597; Wolf, Hessische Sagen, No 46; etc., etc.: also, Kreutzwald, Ehstnische Märchen, by Löwe, No 19, p. 270 f. So in some forms of 'Beauty and the Beast:' Töppen, Aberglauben aus Masuren, p. 142; Mikuličić, Narodne Pripovietke, p. 1, No 1; Afanasief, VII, 153, No 15; Coelho, Contos populares portuguezes, p. 69, No 29.[297]

Rivals or peers of Owain among romantic knights are, first, Lanzelet, in Ulrich von Zatzikhoven's poem, who kisses a serpent on the mouth once, which, after bathing in a spring (see 'Tam Lin'), becomes the finest woman ever seen: vv 7836-7939. Brandimarte, again, in Orlando Innamorato, lib. II., c. XXVI, stanzas 7-15; and Carduino, I Cantari di Carduino, Rajna, stanzas 49, 54 f, 61-64, pp 35-41. Le Bel Inconnu is an involuntary instrument in such a disenchantment, for the snake fascinates him first and kisses him without his knowledge; he afterwards goes to sleep, and finds a beautiful woman standing at his head when he wakes: ed. Hippeau, p. 110 ff, v. 3101 ff. The English Libius Disconius is kist or he it wist, and the dragon at once turns to a beautiful woman: Percy MS., Hales & Furnivall, II, 493f; Ritson, Romances, II, 84 f. Espertius, in Tiran le Blanc, is so overcome with fear that he cannot kiss the dragon,--a daughter of Hippocrates, transformed by Diana, in the island of Lango,--but Espertius not running away, as two men before him had done, the dragon kisses him with equally good effect: Caylus, Tiran le Blanc, II, 334-39. This particular disenchantment had not been accomplished down to Sir John Mandeville's time, for he mentions only the failures: Voyage and Travel, c. iv, pp 28-31, ed. 1725. Amadis d'Astra touches two dragons on the face and breast, and restores them to young-ladyhood: Historia del Principe Sferamundi, the 13th book of Amadis of Gaul, P. II, c. xcvii, pp 458-462, Venice, 1610. This feat is shown by the details to be only a variation of the story in Tiran le Blanc.[298]

The Rev. Mr Lamb, of Norham, communicated to Hutchinson, author of 'A View of Northumberland,' a ballad entitled 'The Laidley Worm of Spindleston Heughs,' with this harmless preamble: "A song 500 years old, made by the old Mountain Bard, Duncan Frasier, living on Cheviot, A.D. 1270. From an ancient manuscript." This composition of Mr Lamb's--for nearly every line of it is his--is not only based on popular tradition, but evidently preserves some small fragments of a popular ballad, and for this reason is given in an Appendix. There is a copy deviating but very little from the print in Kinloch's MSS, I, 187. It was obtained from the recitation of an old woman in Berwickshire.[299] In this recited version the Child of Wynd, or Childy Wynd (Child O-wyne), has become Child o Wane (Child O-wayn).

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

* * * * *

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

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

1 Her mother died when she was young, Which gave her cause to make great moan; Her father married the warst woman That ever lived in Christendom.

2 She served her with foot and hand, In every thing that she could dee, Till once, in an unlucky time, She threw her in ower Craigy's sea.

3 Says, 'Lie you there, dove Isabel, And all my sorrows lie with thee; Till Kemp Owyne come ower the sea, And borrow you with kisses three, Let all the warld do what they will, Oh borrowed shall you never be!'

4 Her breath grew strang, her hair grew lang, And twisted thrice about the tree, And all the people, far and near, Thought that a savage beast was she.

5 These news did come to Kemp Owyne, Where he lived, far beyond the sea; He hasted him to Craigy's sea, And on the savage beast lookd he.

6 Her breath was strang, her hair was lang, And twisted was about the tree, And with a swing she came about: 'Come to Craigy's sea, and kiss with me.

7 'Here is a royal belt,' she cried, 'That I have found in the green sea; And while your body it is on, Drawn shall your blood never be; But if you touch me, tail or fin, I vow my belt your death shall be.'

8 He stepped in, gave her a kiss, The royal belt he brought him wi; Her breath was strang, her hair was lang, And twisted twice about the tree, And with a swing she came about: 'Come to Craigy's sea, and kiss with me.

9 'Here is a royal ring,' she said, 'That I have found in the green sea; And while your finger it is on, Drawn shall your blood never be; But if you touch me, tail or fin, I swear my ring your death shall be.'

10 He stepped in, gave her a kiss, The royal ring he brought him wi; Her breath was strang, her hair was lang, And twisted ance about the tree, And with a swing she came about: 'Come to Craigy's sea, and kiss with me.

11 'Here is a royal brand,' she said, 'That I have found in the green sea; And while your body it is on, Drawn shall your blood never be; But if you touch me, tail or fin, I swear my brand your death shall be.'

12 He stepped in, gave her a kiss, The royal brand he brought him wi; Her breath was sweet, her hair grew short, And twisted nane about the tree, And smilingly she came about, As fair a woman as fair could be.

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

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

2 'O meikle dollour sall you dree, An ay the sat seas oer ye['s] swim; An far mair dollour sall ye dree On Eastmuir craigs, or ye them clim.

3 'I wot ye's be a weary wight, An releived sall ye never be Till Kempion, the kingis son, Come to the craig and thrice kiss thee.'

4 O meickle dollour did she dree, An ay the sat seas oer she swam; An far mair dollour did she dree On Eastmuir craigs, or them she clam; An ay she cried for Kempion, Gin he would come till her han.

5 Now word has gane to Kempion That sich a beast was in his lan, An ay be sure she would gae mad Gin she gat nae help frae his han.

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

7 O biggit ha they a bonny boat, An they hae set her to the sea, An Kempion an Segramour The fiery beast ha gane to see: A mile afore they reachd the shore, I wot she gard the red fire flee.

8 'O Segramour, keep my boat afloat, An lat her no the lan so near; For the wicked beast she'll sure gae mad, An set fire to the land an mair.'

9 'O out o my stye I winna rise-- An it is na for the fear o thee-- Till Kempion, the kingis son, Come to the craig an thrice kiss me.'

10 He's louted him oer the Eastmuir craig, An he has gien her kisses ane; Awa she gid, an again she came, The fieryest beast that ever was seen.

11 'O out o my stye I winna rise-- An it is na for fear o thee-- Till Kempion, the kingis son, Come to the craig an thrice kiss me.'

12 He louted him oer the Eastmuir craig, An he has gien her kisses twa; Awa she gid, an again she came, The fieryest beast that ever you saw.

13 'O out o my stye I winna rise-- An it is na for fear o ye-- Till Kempion, the kingis son, Come to the craig an thrice kiss me.'

14 He's louted him oer the Eastmuir craig, An he has gien her kisses three; Awa she gid, an again she came, The fairest lady that ever coud be.

15 'An by my sooth,' say[s] Kempion, 'My ain true love--for this is she-- O was it wolf into the wood, Or was it fish intill the sea, Or was it man, or wile woman, My true love, that misshapit thee?'

16 'It was na wolf into the wood, Nor was it fish into the sea, But it was my stepmother, An wae an weary mot she be.

17 'O a heavier weird light her upon Than ever fell on wile woman; Her hair's grow rough, an her teeth's grow lang, An on her four feet sal she gang.

18 'Nane sall tack pitty her upon, But in Wormie's Wood she sall ay won, An relieved sall she never be, Till St Mungo come oer the sea.'

* * * * *

#A.#

Buchan gives 4-6 in two six-line stanzas. There are a few trivial diversities between Motherwell's manuscript, or my copy of it, and his printed text, which conforms to Buchan's.

#B. a.#

Written in long or double lines in the manuscript.

2^2, 4^2. or.

5^3. a besure.

8^4. landy mair

11^4. twice.

16^3. ~wicked~ is inserted before stepmother, seemingly by Jamieson.

#b.#

The first stanza, as given by Anderson, Nichols, Literary Illustrations, VII, 177, is:

'Come here, come here, ye freely feed, And lay your head low on my knee; The heaviest weird I will you read That ever was read till a lady.'

1^3. heaviest.

1^4. gaye ladye.

2^2. ye'se.

2^4. when ye.

3^1. I weird ye to a fiery beast.

5==#a# 4^{5,6} + #a# 5^{1,2}: #a# 5^{3,4} omitted:

And aye she cried for Kempion, Gin he would but cum to her hand; Now word has gane to Kempion That sicken a beast was in his land.

6^4. wi thee.

7 omits #a#^{3,4}.

7^5. But a mile before.

7^6. Around them she.

8^2. oer near.

8^3. will sure.

8^4. to a' the land and mair.

After 8 is inserted:

Syne has he bent an arblast bow, And aimd an arrow at her head, And swore if she didna quit the land, Wi that same shaft to shoot her dead.

9^1. stythe.

9^2. awe o thee.

10^1. dizzy crag.

10^2. gien the monster.

11^1. stythe.

11^2. And not for a' thy bow nor thee.

12^1. Estmere craigs.

13^1. my den.

13^2. Nor flee it for the feir o thee.

13^3. Kempion, that courteous knight.

14^1. lofty craig.

14^4. loveliest lady eer.

15^{1,2}. After this is inserted:

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

15^{3-6} make a separate stanza.

15^3, 16^1. warwolf in the wood.

15^4, 16^2. mermaid in the sea.

15^6. my ain true.

17^1. weird shall light her on.

17^3. Her hair shall grow ... teeth grow.

18^2. In Wormeswood she aye shall won.

18^{5,6}.

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

[296] The incident of a woman trying to move a man who all the while is in a deep sleep, and of his servant reporting what has been going on, can hardly have belonged to this ballad from the beginning. It is exceedingly common in popular tales: see 'The Red Bull of Norroway,' in Chambers's Popular Rhymes of Scotland, 3d ed., p. 99; Grimms, 'Das singende springende Löweneckerchen,' No 88, 'Der Eisenhofen,' No 127, and the notes in vol. iii; Leskien u. Brugman, Litanische V. l. u. Märchen, 'Vom weissen Wolf,' No 23, p. 438, and Wollner's note, p. 571.Return to passage

[297] But not in Mme Villeneuve's or in Mme de Beaumont's 'La Belle et la Bête.'Return to passage

[298] Lanzelet is cited by J. Grimm; Brandimarte by Walter Scott; Carduino by G. Paris; Espertius by Dunlop; Amadis d'Astra by Valentin Schmidt. Dunlop refers to a similar story in the sixth tale of the Contes Amoureux de Jean Flore, written towards the end of the fifteenth century.Return to passage

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

The English and Scottish popular ballads, volume 1 (of 5) (part 4 of 7)

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III. , Sc. 2; Dyce, viii, 436