Appendix

THE LAIDLEY WORM OF SPINDLESTON HEUGHS.

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

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

"Though the ballad mentions that the queen was transformed into 'a spiteful toad of monstrous size,' and was doomed in that form to wend on the earth until the end of the world, yet the tradition of the country gives another account of the endurance of her enchantment. It is said that in form of a toad as big as a 'clockin hen' she is doomed to expiate her guilt by confinement in a cavern in Bamborough castle, in which she is to remain in her enchanted shape until some one shall have the hardihood to break the spell by penetrating the cavern, whose 'invisible' door only opens every seven years, on Christmas eve. The adventurer, after entering the cavern, must take the sword and horn of the Childe of Wane, which hang on the wall, and having unsheathed and resheathed the sword thrice, and wound three blasts on the horn, he must kiss the toad three times; upon which the enchantment will be dissolved, and the queen will recover her human form.

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

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

1 The king is gone from Bambrough castle, Long may the princess mourn; Long may she stand on the castle wall, Looking for his return.

2 She has knotted the keys upon a string, And with her she has them taen, She has cast them oer her left shoulder, And to the gate she is gane.

3 She tripped out, she tripped in, She tript into the yard; But it was more for the king's sake, Than for the queen's regard.

4 It fell out on a day the king Brought the queen with him home, And all the lords in our country To welcome them did come.

5 'O welcome, father,' the lady cries, 'Unto your halls and bowers; And so are you, my stepmother, For all that is here is yours.'

6 A lord said, wondering while she spake, This princess of the North Surpasses all of female kind In beauty and in worth.

7 The envious queen replied: At least, You might have excepted me; In a few hours I will her bring Down to a low degree.

8 I will her liken to a laidley worm, That warps about the stone, And not till Childy Wynd comes back Shall she again be won.

9 The princess stood at the bower door, Laughing, who could her blame? But eer the next day's sun went down, A long worm she became.

10 For seven miles east, and seven miles west, And seven miles north and south, No blade of grass or corn could grow, So venomous was her mouth.

11 The milk of seven stately cows-- It was costly her to keep-- Was brought her daily, which she drank Before she went to sleep.

12 At this day may be seen the cave Which held her folded up, And the stone trough, the very same Out of which she did sup.

13 Word went east, and word went west, And word is gone over the sea, That a laidley worm in Spindleston Heughs Would ruin the north country.

14 Word went east, and word went west, And over the sea did go; The Child of Wynd got wit of it, Which filled his heart with woe.

15 He called straight his merry men all, They thirty were and three: 'I wish I were at Spindleston, This desperate worm to see.

16 'We have no time now here to waste, Hence quickly let us sail; My only sister Margaret, Something, I fear, doth ail.'

17 They built a ship without delay, With masts of the rown tree, With fluttering sails of silk so fine, And set her on the sea.

18 They went aboard; the wind with speed Blew them along the deep; At length they spied an huge square tower, On a rock high and steep.

19 The sea was smooth, the weather clear; When they approached nigher, King Ida's castle they well knew, And the banks of Bambroughshire.

20 The queen looked out at her bower-window, To see what she could see; There she espied a gallant ship, Sailing upon the sea.

21 When she beheld the silken sails, Full glancing in the sun, To sink the ship she sent away Her witch-wives every one.

22 Their spells were vain; the hags returned To the queen in sorrowful mood, Crying that witches have no power Where there is rown-tree wood.

23 Her last effort, she sent a boat, Which in the haven lay, With armed men to board the ship, But they were driven away.

24 The worm leapt up, the worm leapt down, She plaited round the stane; And ay as the ship came to the land She banged it off again.

25 The Child then ran out of her reach The ship on Budle sand, And jumping into the shallow sea, Securely got to land.

26 And now he drew his berry-brown sword, And laid it on her head, And swore, if she did harm to him, That he would strike her dead.

27 'O quit thy sword, and bend thy bow, And give me kisses three; For though I am a poisonous worm, No hurt I will do to thee.

28 'O quit thy sword, and bend thy bow, And give me kisses three; If I am not won eer the sun go down, Won I shall never be.'

29 He quitted his sword, he bent his bow, He gave her kisses three; She crept into a hole a worm, But stept out a lady.

30 No cloathing had this lady fine, To keep her from the cold; He took his mantle from him about, And round her did it fold.

31 He has taken his mantle from him about, And it he wrapt her in, And they are up to Bambrough castle, As fast as they can win.

32 His absence and her serpent shape The king had long deplored; He now rejoiced to see them both Again to him restored.

33 The queen they wanted, whom they found All pale, and sore afraid, Because she knew her power must yield To Childy Wynd's, who said:

34 'Woe be to thee, thou wicked witch, An ill death mayest thou dee; As thou my sister hast likened, So likened shalt thou be.

35 'I will turn you into a toad, That on the ground doth wend, And won, won shalt thou never be, Till this world hath an end.'

36 Now on the sand near Ida's tower, She crawls a loathsome toad, And venom spits on every maid She meets upon her road.

37 The virgins all of Bambrough town Will swear that they have seen This spiteful toad, of monstrous size, Whilst walking they have been.

38 All folks believe within the shire This story to be true, And they all run to Spindleston, The cave and trough to view.

39 This fact now Duncan Frasier, Of Cheviot, sings in rhime, Lest Bambroughshire men should forget Some part of it in time.

* * * * *

28^3. son.

ALLISON GROSS

'Allison Gross,' Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 40.

'Allison Gross' was printed by Jamieson, Popular Ballads, II, 187, without deviation from the manuscript save in spelling.

In a Greek tale, a nereid, that is elf or fairy, turns a youth who had refused to espouse her into a snake, the curse to continue till he finds another love who is as fair as she: 'Die Schönste,' B. Schmidt, Griechische Märchen, etc., No 10. This tale is a variety of 'Beauty and the Beast,' one of the numerous wild growths from that ever charming French story.[300]

An elf, a hill-troll, a mermaid, make a young man offers of splendid gifts, to obtain his love or the promise of his faith, in 'Elveskud,' Grundtvig, No 47, many of the Danish and two of the Norwegian copies; 'Hertig Magnus och Elfvorna,' Afzelius, III, 172; 'Hr. Magnus og Bjærgtrolden,' Grundtvig, No 48, Arwidsson, No 147 B; 'Herr Magnus och Hafstrollet,' Afzelius, No 95, Bugge, No 11; a lind-worm, similarly, to a young woman, 'Lindormen,' Grundtvig, No 65. Magnus answers the hill-troll that he should be glad to plight faith with her were she like other women, but she is the ugliest troll that could be found: Grundtvig, II, 121, #A# 6, #B# 7; Arwidsson, II, 303, #B# 5; Afzelius, III, 169, st. 5, 173, st. 6. This is like what we read in stanza 7 of our ballad, but the answer is inevitable in any such case. Magnus comes off scot-free.

The queen of the fairies undoing the spell of the witch is a remarkable feature, not paralleled, so far as I know, in English or northern tradition. The Greek nereids, however, who do pretty much everything, good or bad, that is ascribed to northern elves or fairies, and even bear an appellation resembling that by which fairies are spoken of in Scotland and Ireland, "the good damsels," "the good ladies," have a queen who is described as taking no part in the unfriendly acts of her subjects, but as being kindly disposed towards mankind, and even as repairing the mischief which subordinate sprites have done against her will. If now the fairy queen might interpose in behalf of men against her own kith and kin, much more likely would she be to exert herself to thwart the malignity of a witch.[301]

The object of the witch's blowing thrice on a grass-green horn in 8^2 is not clear, for nothing comes of it. In the closely related ballad which follows this, a witch uses a horn to summon the sea-fishes, among whom there is one who has been the victim of her spells. The horn is appropriate. Witches were supposed to blow horns when they joined the wild hunt, and horn-blower, "hornblâse," is twice cited by Grimm as an equivalent to witch: Deutsche Mythologie, p. 886.

* * * * *

Translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, No 19; by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder, No 7; Knortz, Lieder und Romanzen Alt-Englands, No 9; Loève-Veimars, Ballades de l'Angleterre, p. 353.

1 O Allison Gross, that lives in yon towr, The ugliest witch i the north country, Has trysted me ae day up till her bowr, An monny fair speech she made to me.

2 She stroaked my head, an she kembed my hair, An she set me down saftly on her knee; Says, Gin ye will be my lemman so true, Sae monny braw things as I woud you gi.

3 She showd me a mantle o red scarlet, Wi gouden flowrs an fringes fine; Says, Gin ye will be my lemman so true, This goodly gift it sal be thine.

4 'Awa, awa, ye ugly witch, Haud far awa, an lat me be; I never will be your lemman sae true, An I wish I were out o your company.'

5 She neist brought a sark o the saftest silk, Well wrought wi pearles about the ban; Says, Gin you will be my ain true love, This goodly gift you sal comman.

6 She showd me a cup of the good red gold, Well set wi jewls sae fair to see; Says, Gin you will be my lemman sae true, This goodly gift I will you gi.

7 'Awa, awa, ye ugly witch, Had far awa, and lat me be; For I woudna ance kiss your ugly mouth For a' the gifts that ye coud gi.'

8 She's turnd her right and roun about, An thrice she blaw on a grass-green horn, An she sware by the meen and the stars abeen, That she'd gar me rue the day I was born.

9 Then out has she taen a silver wand, An she's turnd her three times roun an roun; She's mutterd sich words till my strength it faild, An I fell down senceless upon the groun.

10 She's turnd me into an ugly worm, And gard me toddle about the tree; An ay, on ilka Saturdays night, My sister Maisry came to me,

11 Wi silver bason an silver kemb, To kemb my heady upon her knee; But or I had kissd her ugly mouth, I'd rather a toddled about the tree.

12 But as it fell out on last Hallow-even, When the seely court was ridin by, The queen lighted down on a gowany bank, Nae far frae the tree where I wont to lye.

13 She took me up in her milk-white han, An she's stroakd me three times oer her knee; She chang'd me again to my ain proper shape, An I nae mair maun toddle about the tree.

[300] Of these Dr Reinhold Köhler has given me a note of more than twenty. The French tale itself had, in all likelihood, a popular foundation.

[301] B. Schmidt, Das Volksleben der Neugriechen, pp 100 f, 107, 123. Euphemistically the nereids are called ἡ καλαις αρχοντισσαις, ἡ καλαις κυραδες, ἡ καλοκαρδαις, ἡ καλοτυχαις; their sovereign is ἡ μεγαλη κυρα, ἡ πρωτη, etc.

THE LAILY WORM AND THE MACHREL OF THE SEA

Skene MS., p. 30: taken down from recitation in the north of Scotland, in 1802 or 1803.

Somewhat mutilated, and also defaced, though it be, this ballad has certainly never been retouched by a pen, but is pure tradition. It has the first stanza in common with 'Kemp Owyne,' and shares more than that with 'Allison Gross.' But it is independent of 'Allison Gross,' and has a far more original sound.

Maisry's services in washing and combing are more conceivable when rendered by a maid in her proper shape, as in 'Allison Gross,' than when attributed to a machrel of the sea; and it is likely that the machrel returned to her own figure every Saturday, and that this is one of the points lost from the story. It is said, here as in 'Allison Gross,' that Maisry kames the laily head on her knee.[302] It would be a mere cavil to raise a difficulty about combing a laily worm's head. The fiery beast in 'Kemp Owyne,' #A#, has long hair, and the laily worm may have had enough to be better for combing.[303]

It is only natural that the transformed maid should not wish to trust herself again in the hands of the stepmother, but it is not according to poetical justice that she should remain a machrel of the sea, and here again we may suppose something to have dropped out.

We have had a double transformation, of sister and brother, in the 'Marriage of Gawain' and in the 'Wedding of Gawen and Dame Ragnell,' and again, with a second sister added, in the story of Álsól. Brother and sister are transformed in the Danish 'Nattergalen,' Grundtvig, No 57. It is an aggravation of stepmother malice that the victim of enchantment, however amiable and inoffensive before, should become truculent and destructive; so with the brother of Gawain's bride, and with the Carl of Carlile. The stepmother is satisfactorily disposed of, as she is in 'Kemp Owyne,' #B#, and the 'Laidly Worm of Spindleston Heughs.'

1 'I was but seven year auld When my mither she did die; My father married the ae warst woman The warld did ever see.

2 'For she has made me the laily worm, That lies at the fit o the tree, An my sister Masery she's made The machrel of the sea.

3 'An every Saturday at noon The machrel comes to me, An she takes my laily head An lays it on her knee, She kaims it wi a siller kaim, An washes't in the sea.

4 'Seven knights hae I slain, Sin I lay at the fit of the tree, An ye war na my ain father, The eight ane ye should be.'

5 'Sing on your song, ye laily worm, That ye did sing to me:' 'I never sung that song but what I would it sing to thee.

6 'I was but seven year auld, When my mither she did die; My father married the ae warst woman The warld did ever see.

7 'For she changed me to the laily worm, That lies at the fit o the tree, And my sister Masery To the machrel of the sea.

8 'And every Saturday at noon The machrel comes to me, An she takes my laily head An lays it on her knee, An kames it wi a siller kame, An washes it i the sea.

9 'Seven knights hae I slain, Sin I lay at the fit o the tree, An ye war na my ain father, The eighth ane ye shoud be.'

10 He sent for his lady, As fast as send could he: 'Whar is my son that ye sent frae me, And my daughter, Lady Masery?'

11 'Your son is at our king's court, Serving for meat an fee, An your daughter's at our queen's court, . . . . . . . '

12 'Ye lie, ye ill woman, Sae loud as I hear ye lie; My son's the laily worm, That lies at the fit o the tree, And my daughter, Lady Masery, Is the machrel of the sea!'

13 She has tane a siller wan, An gien him strokes three, And he has started up the bravest knight That ever your eyes did see.

14 She has taen a small horn, An loud an shrill blew she, An a' the fish came her untill But the proud machrel of the sea: 'Ye shapeit me ance an unseemly shape, An ye's never mare shape me.'

15 He has sent to the wood For whins and for hawthorn, An he has taen that gay lady, An there he did her burn.

* * * * *

2^2, 7^2. lays: but ~lies~, 12^4.

3^3. ~ducks~, but compare 8^3.

[302] Dives, in one version of a well-known carol, has "a place prepared in hell, to sit upon a serpent's knee." The pious chanson in question is a very different thing from an old ballad, which, it is hoped, no one will think capable of fatuity.

[303] As, for example, a dragon has in Hahn's Griechische Märchen, No 26, I, 187, and elsewhere.

THOMAS RYMER

#A.# 'Thomas Rymer and Queen of Elfland,' Alexander Fraser Tytler's Brown MS., No 1.

#B.# 'Thomas the Rhymer,' Campbell MSS, II, 83.

#C.# 'Thomas the Rhymer,' Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, II, 251, 1802, "from a copy obtained from a lady residing not far from Erceldoune, corrected and enlarged by one in Mrs Brown's MS."

#A# is one of the nine ballads transmitted to Alexander Fraser Tytler by Mrs Brown in April, 1800, as written down from her recollection.[304] This copy was printed by Jamieson, II, 7, in his preface to 'True Thomas and the Queen of Elfland.' #B#, never published as yet, has been corrupted here and there, but only by tradition. #C# being compounded of #A# and another version, that portion which is found in #A# is put in smaller type.

Thomas of Erceldoune, otherwise Thomas the Rhymer, and in the popular style True Thomas, has had a fame as a seer, which, though progressively narrowed, is, after the lapse of nearly or quite six centuries, far from being extinguished. The common people throughout the whole of Scotland, according to Mr Robert Chambers (1870), continue to regard him with veneration, and to preserve a great number of his prophetic sayings, which they habitually seek to connect with "dear years" and other notable public events.[305] A prediction of Thomas of Erceldoune's is recorded in a manuscript which is put at a date before 1320, and he is referred to with other soothsayers in the Scalacronica, a French chronicle of English history begun in 1355. Erceldoune is spoken of as a poet in Robert Mannyng's translation of Langtoft's chronicle, finished in 1338; and in the Auchinleck copy of 'Sir Tristrem,' said to have been made about 1350, a Thomas is said to have been consulted at Erþeldoun touching the history of Tristrem. So that we seem safe in holding that Thomas of Erceldoune had a reputation both as prophet and poet in the earlier part of the fourteenth century. The vaticinations of Thomas are cited by various later chroniclers, and had as much credit in England as in Scotland. "During the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth centuries," says Chambers, "to fabricate a prophecy in the name of Thomas the Rhymer appears to have been found a good stroke of policy on many occasions. Thus was his authority employed to countenance the views of Edward III against Scottish independence, to favor the ambitious views of the Duke of Albany in the minority of James V, and to sustain the spirits of the nation under the harassing invasions of Henry VIII." During the Jacobite rising of 1745 the accomplishment of Thomas's as then unfulfilled predictions was looked for by many. His prophecies, and those of other Scotch soothsayers, were consulted, says Lord Hailes, "with a weak if not criminal curiosity." Even as late as the French revolutionary war a rhyme of Thomas's caused much distress and consternation in the border counties of Scotland, where people were fearing an invasion. The 'Whole Prophecie' of Merlin, Thomas Rymour, and others, collected and issued as early as 1603, continued to be printed as a chap-book down to the beginning of this century, when, says Dr Murray, few farm-houses in Scotland were without a copy of it.

All this might have been if Thomas of Erceldoune had been not more historical than Merlin. But the name is known to have belonged to a real person. Thomas Rymor de Ercildune is witness to a deed whereby one Petrus de Haga obliges himself to make a certain payment to the Abbey of Melrose. Petrus de Haga is, in turn, witness to a charter made by Richard de Moreville. Unluckily, neither of these deeds is dated. But Moreville was constable of Scotland from 1162 to 1189. If we suppose Moreville's charter to have been given towards 1189, and Haga to have been then about twenty years old, and so born about 1170, and further suppose Haga to have made his grant to Melrose towards the end of a life of threescore, or three score and ten, the time of Thomas Rymer's signature would be about 1230 or 1240. If Thomas Rymer was then twenty years of age, his birth would have been at 1210 or 1220. In the year 1294 Thomas de Ercildoun, son and heir of Thomas Rymour de Ercildoun, conveyed to a religious house his inheritance of lands in Ercildoun. With Thomas Rhymer in mind, one naturally interprets Thomas Rymour as the prophet and Thomas de Ercildoun as his son. If Rymour was the surname of this family,[306] it would have been better, for us at least, if the surname had been subjoined to the first Thomas also. As the language stands, we are left to choose among several possibilities. Thomas the Rhymer may have been dead in 1294; Thomas Rymour, meaning the same person, may have made this cession of lands in 1294, and have survived still some years. Thomas, the father, may, as Dr Murray suggests, have retired from the world, but still be living, and it may be his son who resigns the lands. Blind Harry's Life of Wallace makes Thomas Rimour to be alive down to 1296 or 1297. A story reported by Bower in his continuation of Fordun, c. 1430, makes Thomas to have predicted the death of Alexander III in 1286, when, according to the previous (necessarily very loose) calculation, the seer would have been between sixty-six and seventy-six. Neither of these last dates is established by the strongest evidence, but there is no reason for refusing to admit, at least, that Thomas of Erceldoune may have been alive at the latter epoch.

Thomas of Erceldoune's prophetic power was a gift of the queen of the elves; the modern elves, equally those of northern Europe and of Greece, resembling in respect to this attribute the nymphs of the ancient Hellenic mythology. How Thomas attained this grace is set forth in the first of three fits of a poem which bears his name. This poem has come down in four somewhat defective copies: the earliest written a little before the middle of the fifteenth century, two others about 1450, the fourth later. There is a still later manuscript copy of the second and third fits.[307] All the manuscripts are English, but it is manifest from the nature of the topics that the original poem was the work of a Scotsman. All four of the complete versions speak of an older story: 'gyff it be als the storye sayes,' v. 83, 'als the storye tellis full ryghte,' v. 123. The older story, if any, must be the work of Thomas. The circumstance that the poem, as we have it, begins in the first person, and after a long passage returns for a moment to the first person, though most of the tale is told in the third, is of no importance; nor would it have been important if the whole narrative had been put into Thomas's mouth, since that is the simplest of literary artifices.

Thomas, having found favor with the queen of Elfland, was taken with her to that country, and there he remained more than three [seven] years. Then the time came round when a tribute had to be paid to hell, and as Thomas was too likely to be chosen by the fiend, the elf queen conducted him back to the world of men. At the moment of parting Thomas desires some token which may authenticate his having spoken with her. She gives him the gift of soothsaying. He presses her to stay and tell him some ferly. Upon this she begins a train of predictions, which Thomas more than once importunes her to continue. The first two of these, the failure of Baliol's party and the battle of Halidon Hill, 1333, stand by themselves, but they are followed by a series in chronological order, extending from the battle of Falkirk to the battle of Otterbourn, 1298-1388. The third fit, excepting, perhaps, a reference to Henry IV's invasion of Scotland in 1401, seems to consist, not of predictions made after the event, but of "adaptations of legendary prophecies, traditionally preserved from far earlier times, and furbished up anew at each period of national trouble and distress, in expectation of their fulfilment being at length at hand."[308]

The older "story," which is twice referred to in the prologue to the prophecies of Thomas of Erceldoune, was undoubtedly a romance which narrated the adventure of Thomas with the elf queen simply, without specification of his prophecies. In all probability it concluded, in accordance with the ordinary popular tradition, with Thomas's return to fairy-land after a certain time passed in this world.[309] For the story of Thomas and the Elf-queen is but another version of what is related of Ogier le Danois and Morgan the Fay. Six fairies made gifts to Ogier at his birth. By the favor of five he was to be the strongest, the bravest, the most successful, the handsomest, the most susceptible, of knights: Morgan's gift was that, after a long and fatiguing career of glory, he should live with her at her castle of Avalon, in the enjoyment of a still longer youth and never wearying pleasures. When Ogier had passed his hundredth year, Morgan took measures to carry out her promise. She had him wrecked, while he was on a voyage to France, on a loadstone rock conveniently near to Avalon, which Avalon is a little way this side of the terrestrial paradise. In due course he comes to an orchard, and there he eats an apple, which affects him so peculiarly that he looks for nothing but death. He turns to the east, and sees a beautiful lady, magnificently attired. He takes her for the Virgin; she corrects his error, and announces herself as Morgan the Fay. She puts a ring on his finger which restores his youth, and then places a crown on his head which makes him forget all the past. For two hundred years Ogier lived in such delights as no worldly being can imagine, and the two hundred years seemed to him but twenty. Christendom was then in danger, and even Morgan thought his presence was required in the world. The crown being taken from his head, the memory of the past revived, and with it the desire to return to France. He was sent back by the fairy, properly provided, vanquished the foes of Christianity in a short space, and after a time was brought back by Morgan the Fay to Avalon.[310]

The fairy adventures of Thomas and of Ogier have the essential points in common, and even the particular trait that the fairy is taken to be the Virgin. The occurrence of this trait again in the ballad, viewed in connection with the general similarity of the two, will leave no doubt that the ballad had its source in the romance. Yet it is an entirely popular ballad as to style,[311] and must be of considerable age, though the earliest version (#A#) can be traced at furthest only into the first half of the last century.

The scene of the meeting of Thomas with the elf queen is Huntly Banks and the Eildon Tree in versions #B#, #C# of the ballad, as in the romance.[312] Neither of these is mentioned in #A#, the reciter of which was an Aberdeen woman. The elf-lady's costume and equipment, minutely given in the romance (henceforth referred to as #R#), are reduced in the ballad to a skirt of grass-green silk and a velvet mantle, #A#, and a dapple-gray horse, #B# 2 (#R# 5), with nine and fifty bells on each tett of its mane, #A# 2 (three bells on either side of the bridle, #R# 9).[313] Thomas salutes the fairy as queen of heaven, #A# 3, #R# 11. #B# 3 has suffered a Protestant alteration which makes nonsense of the following stanza. She corrects his mistake in all, and in #B# 4 tells him she is out hunting, as in #R# 16. As #C# 5 stands, she challenges Thomas to kiss her, warning him at the same time, unnaturally, and of course in consequence of a corrupt reading, of the danger; which Thomas defies, #C# 6. These two stanzas in #C# represent the passage in the romance, 17-21, in which Thomas embraces the fairy queen, and are wanting in #A#, #B#, though not to be spared. It is contact with the fairy that gives her the power to carry her paramour off; for carry him off she does, and he is in great fright at having to go. The ballad is no worse, and the romance would have been much better, for the omission of another passage, impressive in itself, but incompatible with the proper and original story. The elf-queen had told Thomas that he would ruin her beauty, if he had his will, and so it came to pass: her eyes seemed out, her rich clothing was away, her body was like the lead; and it is while thus disfigured that she bids Thomas take leave of sun and moon, so that his alarm is not without reason.[314] He must go with her for seven years, #A#, #B#; only for a twelvemonth, #R#. She takes him up behind her, #A#; she rides and he runs, #B#; she leads him in at Eldon hill, #R#; they cross a water, he wading up to the knee, #B#, #R#. The water is subterranean in #R#, and for three days naught is heard but the soughing of the flood. Then they come to an orchard, #A#, #B#, #R#, and Thomas, like to tyne for lack of food, is about to pull fruit, but is told that the fruit is cursed, #A# 9, #B# 8;[315] if he plucks it, his soul goes to the fire of hell, #R# 35. The fairy has made a provision of safe bread and wine for him in the ballad, #A# 10, #B# 9, but he has still to fast a while in the romance. #C#, which lacks this passage, makes them ride till they reach a wide desert, and leave living land behind, 9; and here (but in #A#, #B#, and #R# in the vicinity of the orchard) the fairy bids Thomas lay his head on her knee, and she will show him rare sights. These are the way to heaven, #A# 12, #B# 11, #R# 38; the way to hell, #A# 13, #B# 10, #R# 41; the road to Elfland, whither they are going, #A# 14. #R# does not point out the road to Elfland, but the elf-queen's castle on a high hill; and there are two additional ferlies, the way to paradise and the way to purgatory,[316] 39, 40. Thomas, in #A# 15, is now admonished that he must hold his tongue, for if he speaks a word he will never get back to his own country; in #R# 44 he is told to answer none but the elf-queen, whatever may be said to him, and this course he takes in #B# 12. But before they proceed to the castle the lady resumes all the beauty and splendor which she had lost, and no explanation is offered save the naive one in the Lansdowne copy, that if she had not, the king, her consort, would have known that she had been in fault. Now follows in #A# 15 (as recited, here 7), #C# 15, 16, the passage through the subterranean water, which should come before they reach the orchard, as in #B# 6, #R# 30, 31. There is much exaggeration in the ballad: they wade through rivers in darkness and hear the sea roaring, #C# 15, #A# 7, as in #R#, but they also wade through red blood to the knee, #A# 7, #C# 16, and the crossing occupies not three days, as in #R# 31, but forty days, #A# 7. In #C# they now come to the garden. Stanzas 15, 16 are out of place in #C#, as just remarked, and 17 is entirely perverted. The cursed fruit which Thomas is not to touch in #A# 9, #B# 8, #R# 35, is offered him by the elf-queen as his wages, and will give him the tongue that can never lie,--a gift which is made him in the romance at the beginning of the second fit, when the fairy is preparing to part with him. Stanzas 18,19 of #C# are certainly a modern, and as certainly an ill-devised, interpolation. #B# has lost the conclusion. In #A#, #C#, Thomas gets a fairy costume, and is not seen on earth again for seven years.

The romance, after some description of the life at the elf-castle, informs us that Thomas lived there more than three years [Cambridge MS., seven], and thought the time but a space of three days, an almost moderate illusion compared with the experience of other mortals under analogous circumstances.[317] The fairy queen then hurried him away, on the eve of the day when the foul fiend was to come to fetch his tribute. He was a mickle man and hend, and there was every reason to fear that he would be chosen. She brought him again to Eldon Tree, and was bidding him farewell. Thomas begged of her a token of his conversation with her, and she gave him the gift of true speaking. He urged her further to tell him some ferly, and she made him several predictions, but he would not let her go without more and more. Finally, with a promise to meet him on Huntly Banks when she might, she left him under the tree.

Popular tradition, as Sir Walter Scott represents, held that, though Thomas was allowed to revisit the earth after a seven years' sojourn in fairy-land, he was under an obligation to go back to the elf-queen whenever she should summon him. One day while he "was making merry with his friends in the town of Erceldoune, a person came running in, and told, with marks of fear and astonishment, that a hart and hind had left the neighboring forest, and were composedly and slowly parading the street of the village. The prophet instantly arose, left his habitation, and followed the wonderful animals to the forest, whence he was never seen to return." He is, however, expected to come back again at some future time.

What we learn from the adventures of Thomas concerning the perils of dealing with fairies, and the precautions to be observed, agrees with the general teaching of tradition upon the subject. In this matter there is pretty much one rule for all "unco" folk, be they fairies, dwarfs, water-sprites, devils, or departed spirits, and, in a limited way, for witches, too. Thomas, having kissed the elf-queen's lips, must go with her. When the dead Willy comes to ask back his faith and troth of Margaret, and she says he must first kiss her, cheek and chin, he replies, "If I should kiss your red, red lips, your days would not be long."[318] When Thomas is about to pull fruit in the subterranean garden, or paradise, the elf bids him let be: all the plagues of hell light on the fruit of this country; "if thou pluck it, thy soul goes to the fire of hell."[319] The queen had taken the precaution of bringing some honest bread and wine with her for Thomas's behoof. So when Burd Ellen's brother sets out to rescue his sister, who had been carried off by the king of Elfland, his sage adviser enjoins him to eat and drink nothing in fairy-land, whatever his hunger or thirst; "for if he tasted or touched in Elfland, he must remain in the power of the elves, and never see middle-eard again."[320] Abstinence from speech is equally advisable, according to our ballad and to other authority: Gin ae word you should chance to speak, you will neer get back to your ain countrie, #A# 15. They've asked him questions, one and all, but he answered none but that fair ladie, #B# 12. What so any man to thee say, look thou answer none but me, #R# 44.

That eating and drinking, personal contact, exchange of speech, receiving of gifts, in any abode of unearthly beings, including the dead, will reduce a man to their fellowship and condition might be enforced by a great number of examples, and has already been abundantly shown by Professor Wilhelm Müller in his beautiful essay, Zur Symbolik der deutschen Volkssage.[321] The popular belief of the northern nations in this matter is more completely shown than anywhere else in Saxo's account of King Gormo's visit to Guthmund, and it will be enough to cite that. The Danish King Gormo, having heard extraordinary things of the riches of Geruth (the giant Geirröðr), determines to verify the reports with his own eyes, under the guidance of Thorkill, from whom he has received them. The land of Geruth is far to the northeast, beyond the sun and stars, and within the realm of Chaos and Old Night. It is, in fact, a very dismal and terrific sort of Hades. The way to it lies through the dominion of Guthmund, Geruth's brother, which is described as a paradise, but a paradise of the same dubious attractions as that in Thomas of Erceldoune. Guthmund, himself a giant, receives the travellers, a band of about three hundred, very graciously, and conducts them to his palace. Thorkill takes his comrades apart, and puts them on their guard: they must eat and drink nothing that is offered them, but live on the provisions which they have brought, must keep off from the people of the place and not touch them; if they partake of any of the food, they will forget everything, and have to pass their lives in this foul society. Guthmund complains that they slight his hospitality, but Thorkill, now and always, has an excuse ready. The genial monarch offers Gormo one of his twelve beautiful daughters in marriage, and their choice of wives to all the rest of the train. Most of the Danes like the proposition, but Thorkill renews his warnings. Four take the bait, and lose all recollection of the past. Guthmund now commends the delicious fruits of his garden, and tries every art to make the king taste them. But he is again foiled by Thorkill, and clearly perceiving that he has met his match, transports the travellers over the river which separates him and his brother, and allows them to continue their journey.[322]

* * * * *

#C# is translated by Talvj, Versuch, etc., p. 552; by Doenniges, p. 64; by Arndt, Blütenlese, p. 246; by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder, p. 14; by Knortz, Lieder u. Romanzen, p. 1; by Edward Barry, Cycle populaire de Robin Hood, p. 92; and by F.H. Bothe, Janus, p. 122, after Barry.

Alexander Fraser Tytler's Brown MS., No 1: Jamieson's Popular Ballads, II, 7.

1 True Thomas lay oer yond grassy bank, And he beheld a ladie gay, A ladie that was brisk and bold, Come riding oer the fernie brae.

2 Her skirt was of the grass-green silk, Her mantel of the velvet fine, At ilka tett of her horse's mane Hung fifty silver bells and nine.

3 True Thomas he took off his hat, And bowed him low down till his knee: 'All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven! For your peer on earth I never did see.'

4 'O no, O no, True Thomas,' she says, 'That name does not belong to me; I am but the queen of fair Elfland, And I'm come here for to visit thee.

* * * * * * *

5 'But ye maun go wi me now, Thomas, True Thomas, ye maun go wi me, For ye maun serve me seven years, Thro weel or wae as may chance to be.'

6 She turned about her milk-white steed, And took True Thomas up behind, And aye wheneer her bridle rang, The steed flew swifter than the wind.

7 For forty days and forty nights He wade thro red blude to the knee, And he saw neither sun nor moon, But heard the roaring of the sea.

8 O they rade on, and further on, Until they came to a garden green: 'Light down, light down, ye ladie free, Some of that fruit let me pull to thee.'

9 'O no, O no, True Thomas,' she says, 'That fruit maun not be touched by thee, For a' the plagues that are in hell Light on the fruit of this countrie.

10 'But I have a loaf here in my lap, Likewise a bottle of claret wine, And now ere we go farther on, We'll rest a while, and ye may dine.'

11 When he had eaten and drunk his fill, 'Lay down your head upon my knee,' The lady sayd, 'ere we climb yon hill, And I will show you fairlies three.

12 'O see not ye yon narrow road, So thick beset wi thorns and briers? That is the path of righteousness, Tho after it but few enquires.

13 'And see not ye that braid braid road, That lies across yon lillie leven? That is the path of wickedness, Tho some call it the road to heaven.

14 'And see not ye that bonny road, Which winds about the fernie brae? That is the road to fair Elfland, Whe[re] you and I this night maun gae.

15 'But Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue, Whatever you may hear or see, For gin ae word you should chance to speak, You will neer get back to your ain countrie.'

16 He has gotten a coat of the even cloth, And a pair of shoes of velvet green, And till seven years were past and gone True Thomas on earth was never seen.

Campbell MSS, II, 83.

1 As Thomas lay on Huntlie banks-- A wat a weel bred man was he-- And there he spied a lady fair, Coming riding down by the Eildon tree.

2 The horse she rode on was dapple gray, And in her hand she held bells nine; I thought I heard this fair lady say These fair siller bells they should a' be mine.

3 It's Thomas even forward went, And lootit low down on his knee: 'Weel met thee save, my lady fair, For thou'rt the flower o this countrie.'

4 'O no, O no, Thomas,' she says, 'O no, O no, that can never be, For I'm but a lady of an unco land, Comd out a hunting, as ye may see.

5 'O harp and carp, Thomas,' she says, 'O harp and carp, and go wi me; It's be seven years, Thomas, and a day, Or you see man or woman in your ain countrie.'

6 It's she has rode, and Thomas ran, Until they cam to yon water clear; He's coosten off his hose and shon, And he's wooden the water up to the knee.

7 It's she has rode, and Thomas ran, Until they cam to yon garden green; He's put up his hand for to pull down ane, For the lack o food he was like to tyne.

8 'Hold your hand, Thomas,' she says, 'Hold your hand, that must not be; It was a' that cursed fruit o thine Beggared man and woman in your countrie.

9 'But I have a loaf and a soup o wine, And ye shall go and dine wi me; And lay yer head down in my lap, And I will tell ye farlies three.

10 'It's dont ye see yon broad broad way, That leadeth down by yon skerry fell? It's ill's the man that dothe thereon gang, For it leadeth him straight to the gates o hell.

11 'It's dont ye see yon narrow way, That leadeth down by yon lillie lea? It's weel's the man that doth therein gang, For it leads him straight to the heaven hie.'

* * * * * * *

12 It's when she cam into the hall-- I wat a weel bred man was he-- They've asked him question[s], one and all, But he answered none but that fair ladie.

13 O they speerd at her where she did him get, And she told them at the Eildon tree; . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, II, 251, ed. 1802.

5 'Harp and carp, Thomas,' she said, 'Harp and carp along wi me, And if ye dare to kiss my lips, Sure of your bodie I will be.'

6 'Betide me weal, betide me woe, That weird shall never daunton me;' Syne he has kissed her rosy lips, All underneath the Eildon Tree.

15 O they rade on, and farther on, And they waded thro rivers aboon the knee, And they saw neither sun nor moon, But they heard the roaring of the sea.

16 It was mirk mirk night, and there was nae stern light, And they waded thro red blude to the knee; For a' the blude that's shed on earth Rins thro the springs o that countrie.

17 Syne they came on to a garden green, And she pu'd an apple frae a tree: 'Take this for thy wages, True Thomas, It will give the tongue that can never lie.'

18 'My tongue is mine ain,' True Thomas said; 'A gudely gift ye wad gie to me:' I neither dought to buy nor sell, At fair or tryst where I may be.

19 'I dought neither speak to prince or peer, Nor ask of grace from fair ladye:' 'Now hold thy peace,' the lady said, 'For as I say, so must it be.'

20 He has gotten a coat of the even cloth, And a pair of shoes of velvet green, And till seven years were gane and past True Thomas on earth was never seen.

* * * * *

#A.#

7 stands 15 in the MS.

8^2. ~golden green~, if my copy is right.

11^{2,3} are 11^{3,2} in the MS.: the order of words is still not simple enough for a ballad.

14^4. goe.

Jamieson has a few variations, which I suppose to be his own.

1^1. oer yonder bank.

3^4. your like.

4^4. And I am come here to.

6^4. Her steed.

8^2. garden, rightly.

10^2. clarry.

11^2. Lay your head.

12^1. see you not.

12^4. there's few.

13. see ye not yon.

14^1. see ye not.

14^2. Which winds.

#B.#

3^2. her knee.

3^3. thou save.

12^1. MS. perhaps ~unto~.

13^{1,2} follow st. 12 without separation.

#C.#

20^1. a cloth.

Appendix

THOMAS OFF ERSSELDOUNE.

Thornton MS., leaf 149, back, as printed by Dr. J. A. H. Murray.

[A prologue of six stanzas, found only in the Thornton MS., is omitted, as being, even if genuine, not to the present purpose.]

1 Als I me wente þis endres daye, Ffull faste i_n_ mynd makand my mone, In a mery morny_n_ge of Maye, By Huntle bankkes my selfe allone,

2 I herde þe jaye and þe throstelle, The mawys menyde of hir songe, þe wodewale beryde als a belle, That alle þe wode a-bowte me ronge.

3 Allon_n_e in longynge thus als I laye, Vndyre-nethe a semely tre, [Saw] I whare a lady gaye [Came ridand] ou_er_ a longe lee.

4 If I solde sytt to domesdaye, W_i_t_h_ my tonge to wrobbe and wrye, Certanely þat lady gaye Neu_er_ bese scho askryede for mee.

5 Hir palfraye was a dappill graye, Swylke one ne saghe I neu_er_ none; Als dose þe sonne on som_er_es daye, þ_a_t faire lady hir selfe scho schone.

6 Hir selle it was of roelle bone, Ffull semely was þ_a_t syghte to see; Stefly sett w_i_t_h_ p_re_cyous stones, And compaste all with crapotee;

7 Stones of oryente, grete plente. Hir hare abowte hir hede it hange; Scho rade ou_er_ þat lange lee; A whylle scho blewe, a-noþ_er_ scho sange.

8 Hir garthes of nobyll sylke þay were, The bukylls were of berelle stone, Hir steraps were of crystalle clere, And all w_i_t_h_ perelle ou_er_-by-gone.

9 Hir payetrelle was of irale fyne, Hir cropoure was of orpharë, And als clere golde hir brydill it schone; One aythir syde hange bellys three.

10 [Scho led three grehoundis in a leesshe,] And seuen_e_ raches by hir þay rone; Scho bare an horne abowte hir halse, And vndir hir belte full many a flone.

11 Thom_a_s laye and sawe þat syghte, Vndir-nethe ane semly tree; He sayd, ȝone es Marye, moste of myghte, Þat bare þ_a_t childe þat dyede for mee.

12 Bot if I speke w_i_t_h_ ȝone lady bryghte, I hope myn_e_ herte will bryste i_n_ three; Now sall I go w_i_t_h_ all my myghte, Hir for to mete at Eldoun_e_ tree.

13 Thomas rathely vpe he rase, And he rane ou_er_ þat mountayne hye; Gyff it be als the storye sayes, He hir mette at Eldone tree.

14 He knelyde down_e_ appon_e_ his knee, Vndir-nethe þat grenwode spraye, And sayd, Lufly ladye, rewe one mee, Qwene of heuen_e_, als þou wele maye!

15 Then spake þat lady milde of thoghte: Thomas, late swylke wordes bee; Qwene of heuen_e_ ne am I noghte, Ffor I tuke neu_er_ so heghe degre.

16 Bote I ame of ane oþ_er_ cou_n_tree, If I be payrelde moste of pryse; I ryde aftyre this wylde fee; My raches rynnys at my devyse.'

17 'If þ_o_u be parelde moste of pryse, And here rydis thus in thy folye, Of lufe, lady, als þ_o_u erte wyse, Þou gyffe me leue to lye the bye.'

18 Scho sayde, þou man_e_, þat ware folye; I praye þe, Thomas, þ_o_u late me bee; Ffor I saye þe full sekirlye, Þat synne will fordoo all my beaute.

19 'Now, lufly ladye, rewe one mee, And I will eu_er_ more w_i_t_h_ the duelle; Here my trouthe I will the plyghte, Whethir þ_o_u will in heuen_e_ or helle.'

20 'Mane of molde, þ_o_u will me marre, But ȝitt þou sall hafe all thy will; And trowe it wele, þ_o_u chewys þe werre, Ffor alle my beaute will þ_o_u spylle.'

21 Down_e_ þan_e_ lyghte þat lady bryghte, Vndir-nethe þat grenewode spraye; And, als the storye tellis full ryghte, Seuen_e_ sythis by hir he laye.

22 Scho sayd, Man_e_, the lykes thy playe: Whate byrde in boure maye delle w_i_t_h_ the? Thou merrys me all þis longe daye; I pray the, Thomas, late me bee.

23 Thom_a_s stode vpe i_n_ þat stede, And he by-helde þat lady gaye; Hir hare it hange all ou_er_ hir hede, Hir eghne semede owte, þ_a_t are were graye.

24 And alle þe riche clothynge was a-waye, Þat he by-fore sawe i_n_ þat stede; Hir a schanke blake, hir oþer graye, And all hir body lyke the lede.

25 Thom_a_s laye, and sawe þat syghte, Vndir-nethe þat grenewod tree. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

26 Þan said Thom_a_s, Allas! allas! In faythe þis es a dullfull syghte; How arte þ_o_u fadyde þus i_n_ þe face, Þat schane by-fore als þe sonne so bryght[e]!

27 Scho sayd, Thom_a_s, take leue at sone and mon[e], And als at lefe þ_a_t grewes on tree; This twelmoneth sall þ_o_u w_i_t_h_ me gone, And medill-erthe sall þ_o_u none see.'

28 He knelyd downe appon_e_ his knee, Vndir-nethe þ_a_t grenewod spraye, And sayd, Lufly lady, rewe on mee, Mylde qwene of heuen_e_, als þ_o_u beste maye!

29 'Allas!' he sayd, 'and wa es mee! I trowe my dedis wyll wirke me care; My saulle, Jh_e_su, by-teche I the, Whedir-some þ_a_t eu_er_ my banes sall fare.'

30 Scho ledde hy_m_ in at Eldone hill, Vndir-nethe a derne lee, Whare it was dirke as mydnyght myrke, And eu_er_ þe wat_e_r till his knee.

31 The montenans of dayes three, He herd bot swoghynge of þe flode; At þe laste he sayde, Full wa es mee! Almaste I dye, for fawte of f[ode.]

32 Scho lede hy_m_ in-till a faire herbere, Whare frwte was g[ro]wan[d gret plentee]; Pere and appill, bothe ryppe þay were, The date, and als the damasee.

33 Þe fygge, and alsso þe wyneberye, The nyghtgales byggande on þair neste; Þe papeioyes faste abowte gan_e_ flye, And throstylls sange, wolde hafe no reste.

34 He p_re_ssede to pulle frowte w_i_t_h_ his hande, Als man_e_ for fude þ_a_t was nere faynt; Scho sayd, Thom_a_s, þ_o_u late þam_e_ stande, Or ells þe fende the will atteynt.

35 If þ_o_u it plokk, sothely to saye, Thi saule gose to þe fyre of helle; It co_m_mes neu_er_ owte or domesdaye, Bot þ_er_ in payne ay for to duelle.

36 Thomas, sothely I the hyghte, Come lygge thyn_e_ hede down_e_ on my knee, And [þou] sall se þe fayreste syghte Þat eu_er_ sawe man_e_ of thi contree.

37 He did in hye als scho hym badde; Appone hir knee his hede he layde, Ffor hir to paye he was full glade; And þan_e_ þat lady to hy_m_ sayde:

38 Seese þ_o_u nowe ȝone faire waye, Þat lygges ou_er_ ȝone heghe mou_n_tayne? ȝone es þe waye to heuen_e_ for aye, When_e_ synfull sawles are passed þer payne.

39 Seese þ_o_u nowe ȝone oþ_er_ waye, Þat lygges lawe by-nethe ȝone rysse? ȝone es þe waye, þe sothe to saye, Vn-to þe joye of paradyse.

40 Seese þ_o_u ȝitt ȝone thirde waye, Þat ligges vndir ȝone grene playne? ȝone es þe waye, w_i_t_h_ tene and traye, Whare synfull saulis suffirris þaire payne.

41 Bot seese þ_o_u nowe ȝone ferthe waye, Þat lygges ou_er_ ȝone depe delle? ȝone es þe waye, so waylawaye! Vn-to þe birnande fyre of helle.

42 Seese þ_o_u ȝitt ȝone faire castelle, [Þ_a_t standis ouer] ȝone heghe hill? Of towne and towre it beris þe belle; In erthe es none lyke it vn-till.

43 Ffor sothe, Thom_a_s, ȝone es myn_e_ awenn_e_, And þe kynges of this countree; Bot me ware leu_er_ be hanged and drawen_e_, Or þat he wyste þou laye by me.

44 When þ_o_u co_m_mes to ȝone castelle gay, I pray þe curtase man_e_ to bee; And whate so any man_e_ to þe saye, Luke þ_o_u answere none bott mee.

45 My lorde es seruede at ylk a mese W_i_t_h_ thritty knyghttis faire and free; I sall saye, syttande at the desse, I tuke thi speche by-ȝonde the see

46 Thom_a_s still als stane he stude, And he by-helde þat lady gaye; Scho come agayne als faire and gude, And also ryche one hir palfraye.

47 Hir grewehundis fillide w_i_t_h_ dere blode, Hir raches couplede, by my faye; Scho blewe hir horne w_i_t_h_ mayne and mode, Vn-to þe castelle scho tuke þe waye.

48 In-to þe haulle sothely scho went, Thomas foloued at hir hande; Than ladyes come, bothe faire and gent, With curtassye to hir knelande.

49 Harpe and fethill bothe þay fande, Gett_er_ne, and als so þe sawtrye; Lutte and ryhyne bothe gangande, And all man_er_e of mynstralsye.

50 Þe most m_er_uelle þ_a_t Thom_a_s thoghte, When_e_ þat he stode appon_e_ the flore; Ffor feftty hertis in were broghte, Þat were bothe grete and store.

51 Raches laye lapande in þe blode, Cokes come w_i_t_h_ dryssynge knyfe; Thay brittened þam_e_ als þay were wode; Reuelle amanges þame was full ryfe.

52 Knyghtis dawnesede by three and three, There was revelle, gamen_e_ and playe; Lufly ladyes, faire and free, That satte and sange one riche araye.

53 Thom_a_s duellide i_n_ that solace More þan_e_ I ȝowe saye, p_a_rde, Till one a daye, so hafe I grace, My lufly lady sayde to mee:

54 Do buske the, Thom_a_s, þe buse agayne, Ffor þ_o_u may here no lengare be; Hye the faste, w_i_t_h_ myghte and mayne, I sall the brynge till Eldone tree.

55 Thom_a_s sayde þan_e_, w_i_t_h_ heuy chere, Lufly lady, nowe late me bee; Ffor certis, lady, I hafe bene here Noghte bot þe space of dayes three.

56 'Ffor sothe, Thomas, als I þe telle, Þou hase bene here thre ȝere and more; Bot langere here þ_o_u may noghte duelle; The skylle I sall þe telle whare-fore.

57 'To morne of helle þe foulle fende Amange this folke will feche his fee; And þ_o_u arte mekill man_e_ and hende; I trowe full wele he wolde chese the.

58 'Ffor alle þe gold þ_a_t eu_e_r may bee, Ffro hethyn_e_ vn-to þe worldis ende, Þou bese neu_er_ be-trayede for mee; Þerefore w_i_t_h_ me I rede thou wende.'

59 Scho broghte hy_m_ agayne to Eldone tree, Vndir-nethe þ_a_t grenewode spraye; In Huntlee bannkes es mery to bee, Whare fowles synges bothe nyght and daye.

60 'Fferre owtt in ȝone mountane graye, Thomas, my fawkon_e_ bygges a neste; A fawconn_e_ es an erlis praye; Ffor-thi in na place may he reste.

61 'Ffare well, Thomas, I wend my waye, Ffor me by-houys ou_er_ thir benttis brown_e:_' Loo here a fytt: more es to saye, All of Thomas of Erselldown_e_.

FYTT II.

1 'Fare wele, Thom_a_s, I wend my waye, I may no lengare stande wit_h_ the:' 'Gyff me a tokynynge, lady gaye, That I may saye I spake wit_h_ the.'

2 'To harpe or carpe, whare-so þ_o_u gose, Thom_a_s, þ_o_u sall hafe þe chose sothely:' And he saide, Harpynge kepe I none, Ffor tonge es chefe of mynstralsye.

3 'If þ_o_u will spelle, or tales telle, Thom_a_s, þ_o_u sall neu_er_ lesynge lye; Whare eu_er_ þ_o_u fare, by frythe or felle, I praye the speke none euyll of me.

4 'Ffare wele, Thom_a_s, wit_h_-owttyn_e_ gyle, I may no lengare duelle with the:' 'Lufly lady, habyde a while, And telle þ_o_u me of some ferly.'

5 'Thom_a_s, herkyn_e_ what I the saye:' etc.

Here begin the prophecies.

* * * * *

~&~ and ~j~ are replaced by ~and~ and ~I~.

2^1. throstyll cokke: throstell, Cambridge MS.

2^2. menyde hir.

10^1. Wanting. She led, etc., Cambridge.

12^4, 13^4. Lansdowne, elden; Cambridge, eldryn, eldryn_e_.

16^2. prysse.

17^1. prysee.

17^3. wysse.

43^4. me by. Cambridge, be me.

46^4. also.

FYTT 2.

2^1. þ_o_u gose. Cambridge, ȝe gon.

[304] See the letter of Dr Anderson to Bishop Percy, December 29, 1800, in Nichols's Illustrations of the Literary History of the Eighteenth Century, VII, 178 f.

[305] Chambers' Popular Rhymes of Scotland, 1870, pp. 211-224. See, also, Scott's Minstrelsy, IV, 110-116, 129-151, ed. 1833. But, above all, Dr J. A. H. Murray's Introduction to The Romance and Prophecies of Thomas of Erceldoune, 1875.

[306] Hector Boece (1527) says the surname was Leirmont, but there is no evidence for this that is of value. See Murray, p. xiii.

[307] The five copies have been edited by Dr J. A. H. Murray, and printed by the Early English Text Society. A reconstructed text by Dr Alois Brandl makes the second volume of a Sammlung englischer Denkmäler in kritischen Ausgaben, Berlin, 1880.

[308] Murray, pp xxiv-xxvii. As might be expected, the Latin texts corrupt the names of persons and of places, and alter the results of battles. Dr Murray remarks: "The oldest text makes the Scots win Halidon Hill, with the slaughter of six thousand Englishmen, while the other texts, wise after the fact, makes the Scots lose, as they actually did." This, and the consideration that a question about the conflict between the families of Bruce and Baliol would not be put after 1400, when the Baliol line was extinct, disposes Dr Murray to think that verses 326-56 of the second fit, with perhaps the first fit, the conclusion of the poem, and an indefinite portion of fit third, may have been written on the eve of Halidon Hill, with a view to encourage the Scots.

[309] The poem, vv 675-80, says only that Thomas and the lady did not part for ever and aye, but that she was to visit him at Huntley banks.

[310] The relations of Thomas Rhymer and Ogier might, perhaps, be cleared up by the poem of The Visions of Ogier in Fairy Land. The book is thus described by Brunet, ed. 1863, IV, 173: Le premier (second et troisième) livre des visions d'Oger le Dannoys au royaulme de Fairie, Paris, 1542, pet. in-8, de 48 ff. Brunet adds: A la suite de ce poëme, dans l'exemplaire de la Bibliothèque impériale, se trouve, Le liure des visions fantastiques, Paris, 1542, pet. in-8, de 24 ff. The National Library is not now in possession of the volume; nor have all the inquiries I have been able to make, though most courteously aided in France, resulted, as I hoped, in the finding of a copy.

[311] Excepting the two satirical stanzas with which Scott's version (#C#) concludes. "The repugnance of Thomas to be debarred the use of falsehood when he should find it convenient," may have, as Scott says, "a comic effect," but is, for a ballad, a miserable conceit. Both ballad and romance are serious.

[312] Eildon Tree, the site of which is supposed now to be marked by the Eildon Tree Stone, stood, or should have stood, on the slope of the eastern of the three Eildon Hills. Huntly Banks are about half a mile to the west of the Eildon Stone, on the same hill-slope. Erceldoun, a village on the Leader, two miles above its junction with the Tweed, is all but visible from the Eildon Stone. Murray, pp l-lii.

[313] In #B# 2, absurdly, the lady holds nine bells in her hand. Ringing or jingling bridles are ascribed to fairies, Tam Lin, #A# 37, Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, p. 298 ("manes hung wi whustles that the win played on," p. 299). The fairy's saddle has a bordure of bells in the English Launfal, Halliwell's Illustrations of Fairy Mythology, p. 31, but not in Marie's lai. The dwarf-king Antiloie, in Ulrich Von Eschenbach's Alexander, has bells on his bridle: Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, I, 385. These bells, however, are not at all distinctive of fairies, but are the ordinary decoration of elegant "outriders" in the Middle Ages, especially of women. In the romance of Richard Cœur de Lion, a messenger's trappings ring with five hundred bells. Besides the bridle, bells were sometimes attached to the horse's breastplate, to the saddle-bow, crupper, and stirrups. Conde Claros's steed has three hundred around his breastplate. See Weber's Metrical Romances, R.C. de Lion, vv 1514-17, 5712-14, cited by T. Wright, History of Domestic Manners in England, 214 f; Liebrecht, Gervasius, p. 122; Kölbing, Englische Studien, III, 105; Zupitza and Varnhagen, Anglia, III, 371, IV, 417; and particularly A. Schultz, Das höfische Leben zur Zeit der Minnesinger, I, 235, 388-91.

[314] The original I suppose to be the very cheerful tale of Ogier, with which the author of Thomas of Erceldoune has blended a very serious one, without any regard to the irreconcilableness of the two. He is presently forced to undo this melancholy transformation of the fairy, as we shall see. Brandl, 'Thomas of Erceldoune,' p. 20, cites from Giraldus Cambrensis, Itinerarium Cambriæ, I, 5, a story about one Meilyr, a Welshman, the like of which our poet had in mind. This Meilyr was a great soothsayer, and "owed his skill to the following adventure:" Being in company one evening with a girl for whom he had long had a passion, desideratis amplexibus atque deliciis cum indulsisset, statim loco puellæ formosæ formam quamdam villosam, hispidam et hirsutam, adeoque enormiter deformem invenit, quod in ipso ejusdem aspectu dementire cœpit et insanire. Meilyr recovered his reason after several years, through the merits of the saints, but always kept up an intimacy with unclean spirits, and by their help foretold the future. It is not said that they gave him the tongue that never could lie, but no other tongue could lie successfully in his presence: he always saw a little devil capering on it. He was able, by similar indications, to point out the lies and errors of books. The experiment being once tried of laying the Gospel of John in his lap, every devil instantly decamped. Geoffrey of Monmouth's history was substituted, and imps swarmed all over the book and him, too.

[315] #B# 8^{3,4} "It was a' that cursed fruit o thine beggared man and woman in your countrie:" the fruit of the Forbidden Tree.

[316] Purgatory is omitted in the Cotton MS. of the romance, as in the ballad.

[317] Ogier le Danois hardly exceeded the proportion of the ordinary hyperbole of lovers: two hundred years seemed but twenty. The British king Herla lived with the king of the dwarfs more than two hundred years, and thought the time but three days: Walter Mapes, Nugæ Curialium, ed. Wright, p. 16 f (Liebrecht). The strongest case, I believe, is the exquisite legend, versified by Trench, of the monk, with whom three hundred years passed, while he was listening to a bird's song--as he thought, less than three hours. For some of the countless repetitions of the idea, see Pauli's Schimpf und Ernst, ed. Oesterley, No 562, and notes, p. 537; Liebrecht's Gervasins, p. 89; W. Hertz, Deutsche Sage im Elsass, pp 115-18, 263; A. Graf, La Leggenda del Paradiso Terrestre, pp 26-29, 31-33, and notes; J. Koch, Die Siebenschläferlegende, kap. ii.

[318] In an exquisite little ballad obtained by Tommaseo from a peasant-girl of Empoli, I, 26, a lover who had visited hell, and there met and kissed his mistress, is told by her that he must not hope ever to go thence. How the lover escaped in this instance is not explained. Such things happen sometimes, but not often enough to encourage one to take the risk.

Sono stato all' inferno, e son tornato: Misericordia, la gente che c'era! V'era una stanza tutta illuminata, E dentro v'era la speranza mia. Quando mi vedde, gran festa mi fece, E poi mi disse: Dolce anima mia, Non ti arricordi del tempo passato, Quando tu mi dicevi, "anima mia?" Ora, mio caro ben, baciami in bocca, Baciami tanto ch'io contenta sia. È tanto saporita la tua bocca! Di grazia saporisci anco la mia. Ora, mio caro ben, che m'hai baciato, Di qui non isperar d'andarne via.

[319] #A# 8, 9, #R# 34, 35. It was not that Thomas was about to pluck fruit from the Forbidden Tree, though #B# understands it so: cf. #R# 32, 33. The curse of this tree seems, however, to have affected all Paradise. In modern Greek popular poetry Paradise occurs sometimes entirely in the sense of Hades. See B. Schmidt, Volksleben der Neugriechen, p. 249.

[320] Jamieson, in Illustrations of Northern Antiquities, p. 398: 'Child Rowland and Burd Ellen.'

[321] Niedersächsische Sagen und Märchen, Schambach und Müller, p. 373. Shakspere has this: "They are fairies; he that speaks to them shall die;" Falstaff, in Merry Wives of Windsor, V, 5. Ancient Greek tradition is not without traces of the same ideas. It was Persephone's eating of the pomegranate kernel that consigned her to the lower world, in spite of Zeus and Demeter's opposition. The drinking of Circe's brewage and the eating of lotus had an effect on the companions of Ulysses such as is sometimes ascribed to the food and drink of fairies, or other demons, that of producing forgetfulness of home: Odyssey, X, 236, IX, 97. But it would not be safe to build much on this. A Hebrew tale makes the human wife of a demon charge a man who has come to perform, a certain service for the family not to eat or drink in the house, or to take any present of her husband, exactly repeating the precautions observed in Grimm, Deutsche Sagen, Nos 41, 49: Tendlan, Das Buch der Sagen und Legenden jüdischer Vorzeit, p. 141. The children of Shem may probably have derived this trait in the story from the children of Japhet. Aladdin, in the Arabian Nights, is to have a care, above all things, that he does not touch the walls of the subterranean chamber so much as with his clothes, or he will die instantly. This again, by itself, is not very conclusive.

[322] Historia Danica, l. viii: Müller et Velschow, I, 420-25.

THE WEE WEE MAN

#A. a.# 'The Wee Wee Man,' Herd's MSS, I, 153; Herd's Scottish Songs, 1776, I, 95.

#B.# Caw's Poetical Museum, p. 348.

#C.# 'The Wee Wee Man,' Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 234, ed. 1802.

#D.# 'The Wee Wee Man,' Kinloch MSS, VII, 253.

#E. a.# 'The Wee Wee Man,' Motherwell's Note-Book, fol. 40; Motherwell's MS., p. 195. #b.# Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 343.

#F.# 'The Wee Wee Man,' Motherwell's MS., p. 68.

#G.# 'The Little Man,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 263.

This extremely airy and sparkling little ballad varies but slightly in the half dozen known copies. The one in the Musical Museum, No 370, p. 382, and that in Ritson's Scotish Songs, II, 139, are reprinted from Herd.

Singularly enough, there is a poem in eight-line stanzas, in a fourteenth-century manuscript, which stands in somewhat the same relation to this ballad as the poem of Thomas of Erceldoune does to the ballad of Thomas Rymer, but with the important difference that there is no reason for deriving the ballad from the poem in this instance. There seems to have been an intention to make it, like Thomas of Erceldoune, an introduction to a string of prophecies which follows, but no junction has been effected. This poem is given in an appendix.

* * * * *

#A# is translated by Arndt, Blütenlese, p. 210; #B#, with a few improvements from #E b#, by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder, p. 12.

Herd's MSS, I, 153, Herd's Ancient and Modern Scottish Songs, 1776, I, 95.

1 As I was wa'king all alone, Between a water and a wa, And there I spy'd a wee wee man, And he was the least that ere I saw.

2 His legs were scarce a shathmont's length, And thick and thimber was his thigh; Between his brows there was a span, And between his shoulders there was three.

3 He took up a meikle stane, And he flang't as far as I could see; Though I had been a Wallace wight, I couldna liften 't to my knee.

4 'O wee wee man, but thou be strang! O tell me where thy dwelling be?' 'My dwelling's down at yon bonny bower; O will you go with me and see?'

5 On we lap, and awa we rade, Till we came to yon bonny green; We lighted down for to bait our horse, And out there came a lady fine.

6 Four and twenty at her back, And they were a' clad out in green; Though the King of Scotland had been there, The warst o them might hae been his queen.

7 On we lap, and awa we rade, Till we came to yon bonny ha, Whare the roof was o the beaten gould, And the floor was o the cristal a'.

8 When we came to the stair-foot, Ladies were dancing, jimp and sma, But in the twinkling of an eye, My wee wee man was clean awa.

Caw's Poetical Museum, p. 348.

1 As I was walking by my lane, Atween a water and a wa, There sune I spied a wee wee man, He was the least that eir I saw.

2 His legs were scant a shathmont's length, And sma and limber was his thie; Atween his shoulders was ae span, About his middle war but three.

3 He has tane up a meikle stane, And flang 't as far as I cold see; Ein thouch I had been Wallace wicht, I dought na lift 't to my knie.

4 'O wee wee man, but ye be strang! Tell me whar may thy dwelling be? 'I dwell beneth that bonnie bouir; O will ye gae wi me and see?'

5 On we lap, and awa we rade, Till we cam to a bonny green; We lichted syne to bait our steid, And out there cam a lady sheen.

6 Wi four and twentie at her back, A' comely cled in glistering green; Thouch there the King of Scots had stude, The warst micht weil hae been his queen.

7 On syne we past wi wondering cheir, Till we cam to a bonny ha; The roof was o the beaten gowd, The flure was o the crystal a'.

8 When we cam there, wi wee wee knichts War ladies dancing, jimp and sma, But in the twinkling of an eie, Baith green and ha war clein awa.

Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 234, ed. 1802, incorporated with 'The Young Tamlane.' From recitation.

1 'Twas down by Carterhaugh, father, I walked beside the wa, And there I saw a wee wee man, The least that eer I saw.

2 His legs were skant a shathmont lang, Yet umber was his thie; Between his brows there was ae span, And between his shoulders three.

3 He's taen and flung a meikle stane, As far as I could see; I could na, had I been Wallace wight, Hae lifted it to my knee.

4 'O wee wee man, but ye be strang! Where may thy dwelling be?' 'It 's down beside yon bonny bower; Fair lady, come and see.'

5 On we lap, and away we rade, Down to a bonny green; We lighted down to bait our steed, And we saw the fairy queen.

6 With four and twenty at her back, Of ladies clad in green; Tho the King of Scotland had been there, The worst might hae been his queen.

7 On we lap, and away we rade, Down to a bonny ha; The roof was o the beaten goud, The floor was of chrystal a'.

8 And there were dancing on the floor, Fair ladies jimp and sma; But in the twinkling o an eye, They sainted clean awa.

Kinloch MSS, VII, 253. From Mrs Elder.

1 As I gaed out to tak a walk, Atween the water and the wa, There I met wi a wee wee man, The weest man that ere I saw.

2 Thick and short was his legs, And sma and thin was his thie, And atween his een a flee might gae, And atween his shouthers were inches three.

3 And he has tane up a muckle stane, And thrown it farther than I c_ou_d see; If I had been as strong as ere Wallace was, I c_ou_d na lift it to my knie.

4 'O,' quo I, 'but ye be strong! And O where may your dwelling be?' 'It 's down in to yon bonnie glen; Gin ye dinna believe, ye can come and see.'

5 And we rade on, and we sped on, Till we cam to yon bonny glen, And there we lichted and louted in, And there we saw a dainty dame.

6 There was four and twenty wating on her, And ilka ane was clad in green, And he had been the king of fair Scotland, The warst o them micht hae been his queen.

7 There war pipers playing on ilka stair, And ladies dancing in ilka ha, But before ye c_ou_d hae sadd what was that, The house and wee manie was awa.

#a.# Motherwell's Note-Book, fol. 40, "from Agnes Lyle;" Motherwell's MS., p. 195, "from the recitation of Agnes Laird, Kilbarchan." #b.# Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 343.

1 As I was walking mine alone, Betwext the water and the wa, There I spied a wee wee man, He was the least ane that eer I saw.

2 His leg was scarse a shaftmont lang, Both thick and nimble was his knee; Between his eyes there was a span, Betwixt his shoulders were ells three.

3 This wee wee man pulled up a stone, He flang't as far as I could see; Tho I had been like Wallace strong, I wadna gotn't up to my knee.

4 I said, Wee man, oh, but you're strong! Where is your dwelling, or where may't be? 'My dwelling's at yon bonnie green; Fair lady, will ye go and see?'

5 On we lap, and awa we rade, Until we came to yonder green; We lichtit down to rest our steed, And there cam out a lady soon.

6 Four and twenty at her back, And every one of them was clad in green; Altho he had been the King of Scotland, The warst o them a' micht hae been his queen.

7 There were pipers playing in every neuk, And ladies dancing, jimp and sma, And aye the owre-turn o their tune Was 'Our wee wee man has been lang awa.'

Motherwell's MS., p. 68, "from the recitation of Mrs Wilson, of the Renfrewshire Tontine; now of the Caledonian Hotel, Inverness."

1 As I was walking mine alane, Between the water and the wa, And oh there I spy'd a wee wee mannie, The weeest mannie that ere I saw.

2 His legs they were na a gude inch lang, And thick and nimble was his thie; Between his een there was a span, And between his shouthers there were ells three.

3 I asked at this wee wee mannie Whare his dwelling place might be; The answer that he gied to me Was, Cum alang, and ye shall see.

4 So we'll awa, and on we rade, Till we cam to yon bonnie green; We lichted down to bait our horse, And up and started a lady syne.

5 Wi four and twenty at her back, And they were a' weell clad in green; Tho I had been a crowned king, The warst o them might ha been my queen.

6 So we'll awa, and on we rade, Till we cam to yon bonnie hall; The rafters were o the beaten gold, And silver wire were the kebars all.

7 And there was mirth in every end, And ladies dancing, ane and a, And aye the owre-turn o their sang Was 'The wee wee mannie's been lang awa.'

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 263.

1 As I gaed out to tak the air, Between Midmar and bonny Craigha, There I met a little wee man, The less o him I never saw.

2 His legs were but a finger lang, And thick and nimle was his knee; Between his brows there was a span, Between his shoulders ells three.

3 He lifted a stane sax feet in hight, He lifted it up till his right knee, And fifty yards and mair, I'm sure, I wyte he made the stane to flee.

4 'O little wee man, but ye be wight! Tell me whar your dwelling be;' 'I hae a bower, compactly built, Madam, gin ye'll cum and see.'

5 Sae on we lap, and awa we rade, Till we come to yon little ha; The kipples ware o the gude red gowd, The reef was o the proseyla.

6 Pipers were playing, ladies dancing, The ladies dancing, jimp and sma; At ilka turning o the spring, The little man was wearin's wa.

7 Out gat the lights, on cam the mist, Ladies nor mannie mair coud see I turnd about, and gae a look, Just at the foot o' Benachie.

* * * * *

#A.#

2^2. The printed copy has ~thighs~.

4^3. dwelling down.

There is a copy of this ballad in ~Cunningham's Songs of Scotland, I, 303~. Though no confidence can be felt in the genuineness of the "~several variations from recitation and singing~," with which Cunningham says he sought to improve Herd's version, the more considerable ones are here noted.

1^3. O there I met.

2^1. a shathmont lang.

3^3. been a giant born.

4^1. ye're wonder strong.

4^4. O ladie, gang wi me.

5^1. away we flew.

5^2. to a valley green.

5^3. down and he stamped his foot.

5^4. And up there rose.

6^1. Wi four.

6^2. the glossy green.

7^2. stately ha.

8. And there were harpings loud and sweet, And ladies dancing, jimp and sma; He clapped his hands, and ere I wist, He sank and saunted clean awa.

#E. a.#

4^1. your.

Motherwell has made one or two slight changes in copying from his Note-Book into his MS.

#b.# Besides some alterations of his own, Motherwell has introduced readings from #F#.

2^4. there were.

3^3 as Wallace.

5^4. lady sheen.

6^1. Wi four.

6^2. And they were a' weel clad.

After 6 is inserted #F# 6, with the first line changed to

So on we lap, and awa we rade.

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