The English and Scottish popular ballads, volume 2 (of 5) (part 2 of 5)

Appendix

The first of the following pieces is described as having been learned by Mrs Harris, in Perthshire, about 1790, transmitted by recitation to her daughter, and written down from recollection in 1859. No account is given of the derivation of the other. Both make the princess marry Sir Colvin after his victory on the elritch hill, rejecting Percy's pathetic conclusion. Neither retains much of the phraseology of Percy's manuscript, and neither shows those traces of Percy's phraseology which would demonstrate its parentage. The first, though the style is stale enough, has not the decidedly stall-copy stamp of the other. It undoubtedly has passed through a succession of mouths (as is shown by the change of leech to match in 3^2), but we may doubt whether the other was ever sung or said. 8^4, in the Harris version,

Sin the first nicht that I was born,

is close to the Percy manuscript, 17^4,

Since the day that I was borne,

where Percy's Reliques has,

But he did him scath and scorne.

In the old manuscript, when Sir Cawline cuts off the elritch knight's hand, the hand flies over the knight's head and falls down on that lay land; in Buchan, 25, 26, the hand also flies into the sky and lights on the ground; but Percy says merely that the knight fell on that lay land. So that there is one case in each of agreement with the Percy manuscript where the Reliques depart from it. It may also he urged that Buchan, 22^{1, 2},

To trouble any Christian one Lives in the righteous law,

is nearer to what we find in the manuscript, st. 25,

And to meete noe man of middle-earth And that liues (=='lieves) on Christs his lay,

than Percy's,

That thou wilt believe on Christ his laye, And thereto plight thy hand;

And that thou never on Eldridge come.

Were there anything characteristic or otherwise remarkable in the passages where there is agreement with the Percy manuscript and divergence from the Reliques, even one case of such agreement could not be lightly set aside.[71] But such agreements as these are not significant enough to offset the general character of the Scottish ballads, which is not that of a traditional waif, but of a fabrication of recent times. It is most likely that the Harris ballad was put together by some one who was imperfectly acquainted with the copy in the Reliques. Whether Buchan's ballad was formed upon some copy of the Harris version it is not worth the while to ask.

SIR COLIN

Harris MS., fol. 5b.

1 The king luikit owre his castle wa, To his nobles ane an a'; Says, Whare it is him Sir Colin, I dinna see him amang you a'?

2 Up it spak an eldern knicht, Aye an even up spak he: 'Sir Colin's sick for your dochter Janet, He's very sick, an like to dee.'

3 'Win up, win up, my dochter Janet, I wat ye are a match most fine; Tak the baken bread an wine sae ried, An to Sir Colin ye maun gieng.'

4 Up she rase, that fair Janet, An I wat weel she was na sweer, An up they rase, her merrie maries, An they said a' they wad gae wi her.

5 'No, no,' said fair Janet, 'No, no such thing can be; For a thrang to gae to a sick man's bour, I think it wald be great folie.

6 'How is my knicht, all last nicht?' 'Very sick an like to dee; But if I had a kiss o your sweet lips, I wald lie nae langer here.'

7 She leant her doon on his bed-side, I wat she gae him kisses three; But wi sighen said that fair Janet, 'As for your bride, I daurna be.

8 'Unless you watch the Orlange hill, An at that hill there grows a thorn; There neer cam a liven man frae it, Sin the first nicht that I was born.'

9 'Oh I will watch the Orlange hill, Though I waur thinkin to be slain; But I will gie you some love tokens, In case we never meet again.'

10 He gae her rings to her fingers, Sae did he ribbons to her hair; He gae her a broach to her briest-bane, For fear that they sud neer meet mair.

11 She put her hand in her pocket, An she took out a lang, lang wand; 'As lang's ony man this wand sall keep, There sall not a drap o his blude be drawn.'

12 Whan een was come, an een-bells rung, An a' man boun for bed, There beheld him Sir Colin, Fast to the Orlange hill he rade.

13 The wind blew trees oot at the rutes, Sae did it auld castles doon; 'T was eneuch to fricht ony Christian knicht, To be sae far frae ony toon.

14 He rade up, sae did he doon, He rade even through the loan, Till he spied a knicht, wi a ladie bricht, Wi a bent bow intil his han.

15 She cried afar, ere she cam naur, I warn ye, kind sir, I rede ye flee; That for the love you bear to me, I warn ye, kind sir, that ye flee.

16 They faucht up, sae did they doon, They faucht even through the loan, Till he cut aff the king's richt han, Was set aboot wi chains a' goud.

17 'Haud your hand now, Sir Colin, I wat you've dung my love richt sair; Noo for the love ye bear to me, See that ye ding my love nae mair.'

18 He wooed, he wooed that fair Janet, He wooed her and he brocht her hame; He wooed, he wooed that fair Janet, An ca'd her Dear-Coft till her name.

KING MALCOLM AND SIR COLVIN

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 6; Motherwell's MS., p. 581.

1 There ance livd a king in fair Scotland, King Malcolm called by name, Whom ancient history gives record For valour, worth, and fame.

2 And it fell ance upon a day, The king sat down to dine, And then he missd a favourite knight, Whose name was Sir Colvin.

3 But out it speaks another knight, Ane o Sir Colvin's kin: 'He's lyin in bed, right sick in love, All for your daughter Jean.'

4 'O wae's me,' said the royal king, 'I'm sorry for the same; She maun take bread and wine sae red, Give it to Sir Colvin.'

5 Then gently did she bear the bread, Her page did carry the wine, And set a table at his bed: 'Sir Colvin, rise and dine.'

6 'O well love I the wine, lady, Come frae your lovely hand, But better love I your fair body, Than all fair Scotland's strand.'

7 'O hold your tongue now, Sir Colvin, Let all your folly be; My love must be by honour won, Or nane shall enjoy me.

8 'But on the head o Elrick's hill, Near by yon sharp hawthorn, Where never a man with life eer came, Sin our sweet Christ was born;

9 'O ye'll gang there and walk a' night, And boldly blaw your horn; With honour that ye do return, Ye'll marry me the morn.'

10 Then up it raise him Sir Colvin, And dressd in armour keen, And he is on to Elrick's hill, Without light of the meen.

11 At midnight mark the meen upstarts; The knight walkd up and down, While loudest cracks o thunder roard Out ower the bent sae brown.

12 Then by the twinkling of an ee He spied an armed knight, A fair lady bearing his brand, Wi torches burning bright.

13 Then he cried high, as he came nigh, 'Coward thief, I bid you flee! There is not ane comes to this hill, But must engage wi me.

14 'Ye'll best take road before I come, And best take foot and flee; Here is a sword, baith sharp and broad Will quarter you in three.'

15 Sir Colvin said, I'm not afraid Of any here I see; You hae not taen your God before; Less dread hae I o thee.

16 Sir Colvin then he drew his sword, His foe he drew his brand, And they fought there on Elrick's hill Till they were bluidy men.

17 The first an stroke the knight he strake, Gae Colvin a slight wound; The next an stroke Lord Colvin strake, Brought's foe unto the ground.

18 'I yield, I yield,' the knight he said, 'I fairly yield to thee; Nae ane came eer to Elrick-hill Eer gaind such victorie.

19 'I and my forbears here did haunt Three hundred years and more; I'm safe to swear a solemn oath We were never beat before.'

20 'An asking,' said the lady gay, 'An asking ye'll grant me;' 'Ask on, ask on,' said Sir Colvin, 'What may your asking be?'

21 'Ye'll gie me hame my wounded knight, Let me fare on my way; And I'se neer be seen on Elrick's hill, By night, nor yet by day; And to this place we'll come nae mair, Coud we win safe away.

22 'To trouble any Christian one, Lives in the righteous law, We'll come nae mair unto this place, Coud we win safe awa.'

23 'O yese get hame your wounded knight, Ye shall not gang alane; But I maun hae a wad o him, Before that we twa twine.'

24 Sir Colvin being a book-learnd man, Sae gude in fencing tee, He's drawn a stroke behind his hand, And followed in speedilie.

25 Sae fierce a stroke Sir Colvin's drawn, And followed in speedilie, The knight's brand and sword hand In the air he gard them flee.

26 It flew sae high into the sky, And lighted on the ground; The rings that were on these fingers Were worth five hundred pound.

27 Up he has taen that bluidy hand, Set it before the king, And the morn it was Wednesday, When he married his daughter Jean.

Motherwell, who cites a manuscript of Buchan, prints the first three stanzas and the last with some variations: Introduction, p. lxvi, note **. The ballad is not in Buchan's two manuscript volumes.

[65] So maintaine vs all in our right?

[66] To this suggestion the actual form of stanzas 8, 11 lends a faint plausibility.

[67] Percy MS., Hales and Furnivall, I, 367, 372 f, 389, 391. For the name of the sword see Liebrecht, Zur Volkskunde, p. 500.

[68] Cited by Scott, Minstrelsy, II, 273, ed. 1833; Otia Imperialia, ed. Liebrecht, LIX, p. 26.

[69] Grundtvig's #A#, #B# are translated by Dr Prior, I, 276. The story is found also in Icelandic rímur of the 15th century printed in Björner's Kämpedater, 1737. Björner was acquainted with an old Swedish ballad on the subject, but this ballad has not been found. The story of these rímur is given by Mallet, Histoire de Dannemarc, II, 312, ed. 1787, and in Percy's translation, Northern Antiquities, II, 248.

[70] So, as to and, the German 'Ulinger,' Mittler, p. 68, sts 21, 22, 23; den ersten schrey und den sie thet, etc.

[71] The Percy manuscript was inspected by many persons near the time of the first publication of the Reliques, and again while the fourth edition was going through the press, but it is not for a moment to be suggested or supposed that anything in the Scottish 'Sir Colvin' is to be accounted for in that way.

62

FAIR ANNIE

#A.# 'Lord Thomas and Fair Annie,' Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, II, 102, 1802; 31 stanzas.

#B.# 'Burd Helen,' Jamieson's Popular Ballads, II, 376; 26 stanzas.

#C.# 'Fair Annie,' Motherwell's MS., p. 351; 33 stanzas.

#D.# Herd, The Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 307; 8 stanzas.

#E.# 'Lady Jane,' Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 20, Jamieson's Popular Ballads, II, 371; 20 stanzas.

#F.# 'Fair Annie,' Motherwell's MS., p. 385, Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 327; 32 stanzas.

#G.# Communicated by Miss Reburn; 5 stanzas.

#H.# Communicated by Dr Thomas Davidson; 2 stanzas.

#I.# 'Fair Annie,' Kinloch MSS, I, 155; 45 stanzas.

#J.# 'The Fause Lord,' Buchan's MSS, I, 66; 65 stanzas.

The fragment #D#, printed in 1769, antedates the committing to writing of any of the other versions. #E# was taken down as early as 1783. #A# and #B# are from the beginning of this century. #A# was obtained "chiefly from the recitation of an old woman," but we are not informed who supplied the rest. Herd's fragment, #D#, furnished stanzas 2-6, 12, 17, 19. A doubt may be hazarded whether stanzas 8-10 came from the old woman. #I# is a combination of three recited versions, and #J#, perhaps a transcript of a stall-copy, is, like many of Buchan's ballads, extended to twice the length of genuine versions by tedious, sometimes nauseous, amplification and interpolation.

'Lady Jane,' Jamieson's Popular Ballads, II, 73, is a combination of #B# and #E#, with a good many bad verses of Jamieson's own. A version in Motherwell's MS., p. 477, "from the recitation of an old maid-servant of Mr Alexander, of Southbar," was, as would be inferred from a memorandum at the end of the transcript, derived from a printed book, and is in fact an imperfect recollection of this compounded ballad of Jamieson's.

Grundtvig has attempted a reconstitution of the ballad from versions #A#, #B#, #D#, #E#, #F#, Danmarks gamle Folkeviser, V, 42.

Annie [Helen, #B#, Ellen, #G#, Jane, #E#] was stolen from home in her childhood, #A# 15, #B# 23, #C# 31, #E# 9, #F# 25, #I# 38, #J# 50, 51, by a knight from over sea, to whom she has borne seven sons, out of wedlock. Her consort bids her prepare to welcome a bride, with whom he shall get gowd and gear; with her he got none. But she must look like a maid, comb down her yellow locks, braid her hair.[72] Annie meekly assents, for love, she says, in #C# 12; in #I# 4, #J# 15, the welcoming goes against her heart; in #F# 9 she is told that she is to do it; in #H# 2 she says the welcome will have to come from him. Annie receives the bride and her train and serves the tables, suppressing her tears and drinking water to keep her cheek from paling. She passes for servant or housekeeper, and in #I# 23, #J# 25, uses the word 'master,' not to anger the bride; in #C# 17 she calls her lord brother, and the knight calls her sister in #C# 18 and (inconsistently) in #J# 38. What 'n a lady's that? asks the bride, #E# 9, #J# 37, and what means all these bonny boys that follow at her heel? #J# 37.

When the married pair have gone to their bed-chamber, Annie, in a room near by, bewails her sad lot in song; to the harp or her virginals, #E#, #F#, #J#, #I#. The bride hears the lament: it is that of a woman who will go mad ere day, #B# 20, #C# 26, #J# 44, 48. The bride goes to Fair Annie's chamber, #A#, #C#? to see what gars her greet, inquires her parentage, and discovers that they are sisters; or learns this fact from the song itself, #B#, #E#; or recognizes her sister's voice, #F#, #I#, #J#. King Henry was their father, #B#, #F#, #I#; King Easter, #C#;[73] the Earl of Wemyss, of Richmond, #A#, #E#. Queen Easter was their mother, #F#; Queen Catherine, Elinor [Orvis], #B#, #I#. The bride, who had come with many well-loaded ships, gives all or most of them to her sister, #A#, #B#, #C#, #F#, #I#, and goes virgin home, #A#, #B#, #F#, #I#, #J#; expecting, as #B#, #J# add, to encounter derision for going away wife and coming back maid.

In #C# 27 the bride suspects that the woman who wails so madly is a leman, and urges her husband to get up and pack her down the stairs, though the woods were ne'er so wild. He refuses. A similar scene is elsewhere put earlier, during the bridal entertainment, #I# 29, 30, #J# 40: see also #G# 2, 3, which are partly explained by these passages, and partly by #J# 36.

There are other variations in the story, and some additional particulars in one or another version: none of these, however, seem to belong to the original ballad. The bride, as soon as she sees Annie, is struck with the resemblance to her lost sister, #A# 14, #E# 9, #J# 29. The bridegroom repents, and rejects the woman he has married, #E# 19, #F# 30, #J# 49. The bridegroom confiscates without ceremony, as tocher for Annie, six of the seven ships which the bride had brought with her, #E#, #J#.[74]

The name Lord Thomas in #A# was probably suggested by 'Lord Thomas and Fair Annet.'

* * * * *

A Danish ballad of Fair Annie has been known to the English for fourscore years through Jamieson's translation. The Scandinavian versions are the following.

#Danish.#'Skjön Anna,' Grundtvig, No 258, V, 13, eight versions: #A#, 39 four-line stanzas, #B#, 34 sts, #C#, 45 sts, from manuscripts of the sixteenth century; #D#, 48 sts, #E#, 41 sts, #G#, 32 sts, from seventeenth-century manuscripts; #F#, 41 sts, from broadsides or stall-copies, the earliest dated 1648, from Peder Syv, 1695, and from copies lately taken down which were derived from printed texts; #H#, 43 sts, a version recently obtained from tradition in Norway. Of these, #A#, #B#, #C#, #G# are independent texts; #D#, #E#, #F# are derived from some copy of #C#, or from a version closely akin to #C#; #H# is essentially the broadside copy #F#, but has one stanza of its own. #F#, Syv, No 17, Danske Viser, IV, 59, No 177, the form through which the Danish ballad has been made known by English translations, is unfortunately an impure and sophisticated text.

#Swedish.# #A#, 'Skön Anna,' 19 sts, Arwidsson, I, 291, No 42; #B#, Afzelius, I, 24, No 5, 32 sts; #C#, Wigström, Folkdiktning, I, 57, No 28, 37 sts. #C# follows in the main Danish #F#, but with a variation in st. 31 which is of much importance if traditional. A translation of Danish #F# has long circulated in Sweden as a broadside: see, besides Grundtvig, Bergström's Afzelius, II, 30.

The Scandinavian story will, for more brevity, be collected principally from Danish #A#, #B#, #C#, and some variations of the other copies be added.

Fair Annie [Anneck, Annecke, #A#], a king's daughter, is stolen in her early years, and sold to a man of rank, who is in fact heir to a crown. They have seven sons in eight [seven] years, and he then becomes king. Fair Annie begs the queen-mother to intercede with her son now to make her a lawful wife and legitimate his children. The mother loves Annie, and heartily desires that he may. The son refuses; she has great virtues, but he does not know Annie's friends [her forbears, lineage, Danish #F#, Swedish #C#]. He makes suit for a king's daughter in a distant land. Annie's heart all but breaks when the bride comes. The young king asks the bride what gift she will give his amie, #A#. I will give her my old shoes, she says, #B#, #D#, #F#. She must give something else if she would get his good will. Then she will give Annie seven mills that lie far over the Rhine and grind nought but cinnamon, #B#, #D#, #F#. Annie is now asked what gift she will make the bride. I will give her you, whom I can so ill spare, answers Annie. No, that is not enough; she must give another gift to win the bride's good will. I will give her the seven sons I have borne, says Annie. Neither is that enough; she must give the bride her gold brooch. This Annie will not surrender, for it was his morning-gift. Annie now asks her lord to let her go into the bride-house [hall] and see the bride. He refuses emphatically, but his kind mother says, Yes; she will even go with Annie, though it should cost her her life. Annie goes to the bride-house, preceded by her seven sons, who wear her father's color. She pours wine for the bride, with many tears, #A#, #C#. The bride asks who this fair woman is that weeps so sore. And who are these that wear her father's color?[75] It is the king's sister's daughter, from a foreign land, #C-F#, #H#; his sister, Danish #A#, Swedish #A#, #B#. "It is not your sister's daughter," says the bride; "that I plainly see. I fear it is your leman," #C# 34, #D#, #E#. The king now avows the truth. It is Fair Annie, my leman, Danish #A# 33, Swedish #A# 16 (which adds, "Her father I never knew"); she was stolen from a foreign land in her young days, and has been with me seven years, Danish #B# 31; she was sold to me from a foreign land; these are her seven sons, they will be bastards now, and that is the cause of her grief, #C# 35, 36, #D#, #E#; these are my seven sons, Fair Annie is their mother, Swedish #B# 27. I had a sister, says the bride; she was stolen from my father's land; Fair Annie was her name, this must be she,[76] she shall keep her husband. The king sends the new-come bride home with due ceremony, and keeps Fair Annie for his heart's delight, #C# 37-44, #D#, #E#.

In Danish #G# 7, the king gives as a reason for not espousing Fair Annie that she has no fortune, ingen rente, which is the objection to her in English #A# 1, #C# 2, etc. The oldest [youngest] son of Fair Annie attends his mother's sister to her father's land in Swedish #C#, Danish #F#, #K#, as in English #J# 54. The king promises his brother to Annie's sister in Danish #A# 39 (compare also Swedish #B# 33). In English #I# 26, #J# 30, the bride thinks her brother would be a good match for Annie.

Swedish #C#, though in itself of little authority, has an advantage over the Danish copies and Swedish #B# in making Annie refuse to part with the gold brooch, not because it was a morning-gift, but because she had had it ever since she was a child and was kidnapped from her father's court; and again in making this brooch the means of her recognition as sister by the bride.

The Scandinavian ballad is regarded by Grundtvig as transmitted from Low German. The rhymes are frequently not after the Danish manner (see Grundtvig, V, 46, 7), and the heroine's name has a Low German look.

Dutch and German versions, all ill enough preserved, are:

#Dutch.# #A.# 'Schön Adelheid,' 22 four-line stanzas, Hoffmann, Niederländische Volkslieder, 2d ed., 1856, p. 46, No 11, 'Mooi Aeltje en Koning Alewijn,' Willems, p. 177, No 70; from Den Italiaenschen Quacksalver, Amsterdam, 1708. #B.# 'Madel,' 15 stanzas, Snellaert, Oude en nieuwe Liedjes, p. 70, No 65, 2d ed., 1864.

#German.# #A.# Longard, Altrheinländische Mährlein und Liedlein, 1843, p. 23, No 12; Wilhelm von Zuccalmaglio, Deutsche Volkslieder, 1840, p. 74, No 32,==Mittler, No 333: 21 four-line stanzas. #B.# Montanus (Vincenz von Zuccalmaglio), Die deutschen Volksfeste, 1854, p. 46, 17 stanzas, apparently rewritten.

According to Dutch #A# Aaltje, Ethel, Adeline, a king's daughter, is stolen, and sold for a great sum to King Alewijn. She asks the king's mother, who is quite disposed to have her for a daughter, when her son will marry her, and the mother asks her son how long Maid Aaltje is to live under disgrace. The king objects that Aaltje is a vondeling, a waif-woman (English #C# 2, #I# 2); Heaven only knows her friends and kin. He adds that he was over the Rhine yesterday, and that Aaltje will break her heart with sorrow. The young woman asks the mother's permission to go to the bride's house, and is told to go in good style, her seven sons before her and fourteen ladies-in-waiting behind. The king meets Aaltje half-way, and says, If you are going to the bride's house, what gift do you mean to make the bride? The bride will have enough, she replies; I will give her my old stockings and shoes. She must give something better to gain her friendship. Then Aaltje will give her "seven sons of yours and mine" to serve her. She will have your seven sons, says the king, but you must give her your brooch.[77] No, that you will not get, says Aaltje. There were two at my father's court; my sister and I each had one. Are you then of royal birth? says the king. Had you told me that, I would have married you. When Aaltje appears at the bride's house, they offer her to drink, and many a tear she drops in the cup. Who is this woman that weeps so piteously? asks the bride. These are some of our nieces and nephews, who have come from foreign parts to bring you presents, is the king's answer. Nieces and nephews! says the bride; it is Maid Aaltje, my youngest sister. She takes the crown from her head: Take it, Aaltje, and keep your husband. Saddle my horse. I came in honor, I must go back in shame. (Cf. English #B# 26, #I# 45.)

#B.# Madel (M'Adel), the oldest of a king's two daughters, is stolen by a king's son to be his leman, and taken to a far country. They have seven sons, and he forsakes her and betroths himself to her sister. He asks his mother what present she will make his bride; she has seven mills which she will give her. Madel, asked in like manner, replies, My old stockings and shoes. Madel asks the queen-mother if she may go to the bridal, for the king is to marry, and is answered as in #A#. When she comes to the bride-loft they pour wine for her, and she drops tears in the cup. The bride asks who this is, and the king replies, One of my nieces from a far country, who came to do me honor, but only puts me to shame. You are not telling me the truth, says the bride. The king owns that it is Madel, his leman, with her seven sons. The bride recognizes a brooch[78] stiff with gold and silk. "There are but two such in all Flanders; I and my sister each had one." She tears the crown from her own head and puts it on her sister, saying, King, marry her in my place. The brooch is distinctly made the means of identification, which it by all likelihood was originally in all the Scandinavian ballads, though only Swedish #C# has retained (or restored) this feature.

The #German# ballad resembles Dutch #A# closely. The queen-mother gives Adelheid permission to go to the wedding, and her seven sons must walk before her. At the feast the king offers her to drink; she cannot drink for the grief he has caused her. The bride sees her weeping, and orders food and drink to be offered her (cf. English #J# 36), but she cannot touch them. The king pretends that she is one of his nieces who has lived with him seven years [is fatigued by her journey, #B#]. The bride exclaims, I see the fore-span (by your fore-span, #A#), you are driving a pair! In #A# she asks the fair woman's name and country. Her country is over the Rhine, and thence she had been stolen. "Then you must be my sister," declares the bride somewhat hastily, gives up her seat and the crown, puts her ring on Adelheid's finger, and bids the news be sent to father and mother.

The lyric beauty of the Scottish version of this ballad, especially conspicuous in #A#, #C#, #E#, has been appreciatingly remarked by Grundtvig.

But Fair Annie's fortunes have not only been charmingly sung, as here; they have also been exquisitely told in a favorite lay of Marie de France, 'Le Lai del Freisne.' This tale, of Breton origin, is three hundred years older than any manuscript of the ballad. Comparison will, however, quickly show that it is not the source either of the English or of the Low German and Scandinavian ballad. The tale and the ballads have a common source, which lies further back, and too far for us to find.

The story of the lay is this.[79] There were two knights in Brittany, living on contiguous estates, and both married. The lady of one of the two gave birth to two boys, and the father sent information of the event to his neighbor and friend. His friend's wife was a scoffing, envious woman, "judging always for the worse," and said,

I marvel much, thou messenger, Who was thy lordës counsellor, That did advise him not to spare This shame to publish everywhere, That his wife hath two children bore: Well may each man know therefore Two men have been with her in bower,[80] Which is to both but small honour.

In the course of the same year the woman that had made this hateful insinuation was brought to bed of twin girls. To save her reputation she was ready even to put one of them to death, but a favorite damsel in her house suggested a better way out of her perplexity, and that was to leave one of the children at the door of a convent. The child, wrapped in a rich pall that had been brought from Constantinople, with a jewelled ring bound to its arm to show that it was well born, was taken away in the night to a considerable distance, and was laid between the branches of a great ash-tree in front of a nunnery. In the morning it was discovered by the porter, who told his adventure to the abbess; and the abbess, having inspected the foundling, resolved to bring it up under the style of her niece. The girl, who received the name La Freisne from the tree in which she had been found, turned out a marvel of beauty and of all good qualities. A gentleman of the vicinity fell in love with her, and made large gifts to the monastery to constitute himself a lay-brother, and so have access to her without exciting suspicion. He obtained her love, and in the end induced her to fly with him to his château. This she did with sufficient deliberation to take with her the robe and ring which were the tokens of her birth; for the abbess had told her how she had been found in the ash, and had committed these objects to her care. She lived a good while with the knight as his mistress, and made herself loved by everybody; but his retainers had repeatedly remonstrated with him for not providing himself with a lawful successor, and at last forced him to marry the daughter and heiress of a gentleman near by. On the day of the nuptials La Freisne let no sign of grief or anger escape her, but devoted herself to the bride so amiably as even to win over the mother, who had accompanied her daughter, and had at first felt much uneasiness at the presence of a possible rival. Finding the marriage bed not decked with sufficient elegance, La Freisne took from a trunk the precious pall from Constantinople, and threw it on for a coverlet. When the bride's mother was about to put her daughter to bed, this robe was of course the first object that met her eyes. Her heart quaked. She sent for the chamberlain, and asked where the cloth came from. The chamberlain explained that "the damsel" had put it on to improve the appearance of the bed. The damsel was summoned, and told what she knew: the abbess who brought her up had given her the robe, and with it a ring, and charged her to take good care of them. A sight of the ring was asked; the lady cried, You are my daughter, and fainted. When she recovered she sent for her husband and confessed everything. The husband was only too happy to find that the damsel tant pruz è sage è bele was his daughter. The story was repeated to La Freisne, and then to the knight and to the archbishop who had performed the marriage ceremony. The marriage was dissolved the next day, and La Freisne formally espoused by the knight, who received with her half her father's heritage. The sister went home and made a rich marriage.

The common ground-work of the ballads and the lay is, that a man who has formed an irregular union with a woman whose family he does not know undertakes matrimony with another person, who is discovered on the day of the nuptials to be sister to his leman. A jewel in the possession of the latter, by itself or together with another token, reveals and proves the kinship in the lay and in the Scandinavian-German ballad, but there is no trace of such an instrumentality in the Scottish.

Single features, or even several features, of the story of Fair Annie or of La Freisne occur in many other ballads and tales, but there is no occasion to go into these resemblances here. A Norse ballad has almost every point in 'Fair Annie' but the sisterly relation of leman and bride: see 'Slegfred og Brud,' Grundtvig, No 255, and 'Thomas o Yonderdale,' an apocryphal ballad of Buchan's, further on. Bare mention may be made of the beautiful Spanish romance 'Las dos Hermanas,' found also in Portuguese, in which the queen of a Moor or Turk discovers her sister in a slave who has been presented to her, or captured at her request.[81]

* * * * *

Translated after #A# by Schubart, p. 115; mainly after #E#, with stanzas from #A# and #C#, by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, No 28; after #E# by Wolff, Hausschatz, p. 209, Halle der Völker, I, 3; after #D# by Gerhard, p. 77; by Knortz, L. u. R. Alt-Englands, No 3, after Allingham.

* * * * *

Danish #F# by Jamieson, Popular Ballads, II, 103; by Prior, III, 300, No 148. Dutch #A# by Prior, III, 484.

A

Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, II, 102, 1802, chiefly from the recitation of an old woman residing near Kirkhill, in West Lothian.

1 'It's narrow, narrow, make your bed, And learn to lie your lane; For I'm ga'n oer the sea, Fair Annie, A braw bride to bring hame. Wi her I will get gowd and gear; Wi you I neer got nane.

2 'But wha will bake my bridal bread, Or brew my bridal ale? And wha will welcome my brisk bride, That I bring oer the dale?'

3 'It's I will bake your bridal bread, And brew your bridal ale, And I will welcome your brisk bride, That you bring oer the dale.'

4 'But she that welcomes my brisk bride Maun gang like maiden fair; She maun lace on her robe sae jimp, And braid her yellow hair.'

5 'But how can I gang maiden-like, When maiden I am nane? Have I not born seven sons to thee, And am with child again?'

6 She's taen her young son in her arms, Another in her hand, And she's up to the highest tower, To see him come to land.

7 'Come up, come up, my eldest son, And look oer yon sea-strand, And see your father's new-come bride, Before she come to land.'

8 'Come down, come down, my mother dear, Come frae the castle wa! I fear, if langer ye stand there, Ye'll let yoursell down fa.'

9 And she gaed down, and farther down, Her love's ship for to see, And the topmast and the mainmast Shone like the silver free.

10 And she's gane down, and farther down, The bride's ship to behold, And the topmast and the mainmast They shone just like the gold.

11 She's taen her seven sons in her hand, I wot she didna fail; She met Lord Thomas and his bride, As they came oer the dale.

12 'You're welcome to your house, Lord Thomas, You're welcome to your land; You're welcome with your fair ladye, That you lead by the hand.

13 'You're welcome to your ha's, ladye, Your welcome to your bowers; You're welcome to your hame, ladye, For a' that's here is yours.'

14 'I thank thee, Annie; I thank thee, Annie, Sae dearly as I thank thee; You're the likest to my sister Annie, That ever I did see.

15 'There came a knight out oer the sea, And steald my sister away; The shame scoup in his company, And land whereer he gae!'

16 She hang ae napkin at the door, Another in the ha, And a' to wipe the trickling tears, Sae fast as they did fa.

17 And aye she served the lang tables, With white bread and with wine, And aye she drank the wan water, To had her colour fine.

18 And aye she served the lang tables, With white bread and with brown; And ay she turned her round about, Sae fast the tears fell down.

19 And he's taen down the silk napkin, Hung on a silver pin, And aye he wipes the tear trickling A' down her cheek and chin.

20 And aye he turn'd him round about, And smiled amang his men; Says, Like ye best the old ladye, Or her that's new come hame?

21 When bells were rung, and mass was sung, And a' men bound to bed, Lord Thomas and his new-come bride To their chamber they were gaed.

22 Annie made her bed a little forbye, To hear what they might say; 'And ever alas!' Fair Annie cried, 'That I should see this day!

23 'Gin my seven sons were seven young rats, Running on the castle wa, And I were a grey cat mysell, I soon would worry them a'.

24 'Gin my seven sons were seven young hares, Running oer yon lilly lee, And I were a grew hound mysell, Soon worried they a' should be.'

25 And wae and sad Fair Annie sat, And drearie was her sang, And ever, as she sobbd and grat, 'Wae to the man that did the wrang!'

26 'My gown is on,' said the new-come bride, 'My shoes are on my feet, And I will to Fair Annie's chamber, And see what gars her greet.

27 'What ails ye, what ails ye, Fair Annie, That ye make sic a moan? Has your wine barrels cast the girds, Or is your white bread gone?

28 'O wha was't was your father, Annie, Or wha was't was your mother? And had ye ony sister, Annie, Or had ye ony brother?'

29 'The Earl of Wemyss was my father, The Countess of Wemyss my mother; And a' the folk about the house To me were sister and brother.'

30 'If the Earl of Wemyss was your father, I wot sae was he mine; And it shall not be for lack o gowd That ye your love sall tyne.

31 'For I have seven ships o mine ain, A' loaded to the brim, And I will gie them a' to thee, Wi four to thine eldest son: But thanks to a' the powers in heaven That I gae maiden hame!'

B

Jamieson's Popular Ballads, II, 376, from the recitation of Mrs Arrot, of Aberbrothick.

1 There livd a lord on yon sea-side, And he thought on a wile, How he would go over the saut sea A lady to beguile.

2 'O learn to mak your bed, Helen, And learn to ly your lane, For I'm gaun over the saut seas A bright bride to bring hame.'

3 'How can I mak my bed,' she says, 'Unless I mak it wide, Whan I have seven o your sons To lie down by my side?

4 'And the first o your seven sons, He rides a milk-white steed; The second o your seven sons He wears a milk-white weed.

5 'The third ane o your seven sons, He draws baith ale and wine; The fourth ane o your seven sons, He serves you when you dine.

6 'The fifth ane o your seven sons, He can baith read and write; And the sixth ane o your seven sons, He is a' your heart's delight.

7 'And the youngest o your seven sons, He sleeps on my breast-bane; Whan him and I ly down at night, For him rest get I nane.'

8 'O wha will bake my bridal bread, And brew my bridal ale? And wha will welcome my gae lady, That I bring oer the dale?

9 'And sin ye've taen the turn in hand, See that ye do it right, And ilka chimly o the house, That they be dearly dight.'

10 O a' the day she washd and wrang, And a' the night she buik, And she's awa to her chamber, To gie her young son suck.

11 'Come here, come here, my eldest son, And see what ye may see; For yonder comes your father dear, Your mother-in-law side be.'

12 She's taen a cake o the best bread, A bottle o the best wine, And a' the keys upon her arm, And to the yates she's gaen.

13 'Ye are welcome hame, gay lady,' she said, 'And ay ye are welcome hame; And sae is a' the gentlewomen That's wi you ridden and gane.

14 'You are welcome hame, gay lord' she said, 'And ay ye are welcome hame; And sae is a' the gentlemen That's wi you ridden and gane.'

15 She saird them up, she saird them down, She saird them till and frae; But when she went behind their backs, The tear did blind her ee.

16 Whan day was gane, and night was come, And a' man boun to bed, The bridegroom and the bonny bride In their chamber was laid.

17 Burd Helen and her seven sons Lay in a bower near by; . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

18 'If my seven sons were seven grey ratts, To rin frae wa to wa, And I mysel a good grey cat, I would bite their back a-twa.

19 'If my seven sons were seven grey hares, And them to rin a race, And I mysel a good greyhound, I would gie them a chace.'

20 Up and spak the bonny bride, In chamber where she lay: 'There is a lady in this bower, She will gae mad or day.'

21 'Lye still, lye still, my bonny bride, Lye still and tak a sleep; It's but ane o my wine puncheons; Nae langer wad it keep.'

22 'King Henry was my father dear, Queen Catherine was my mother, Lady Anne she was my sister dear, And Frederick was my brother.

23 'And whan I was six years of age, They ca'd me Mary Mild; I was stown frae my father's yate, Whan I was but a child.'

24 Then up and spak the bonny bride, By her lord as she lay: 'Lye down, lye down, my dear sister, There's nae ill done for me.

25 'O seven ships conveyd me here, And seven came oer the main; And four o them shall stay wi you, And three convey me hame.

26 'But when I gae hame to my father's house, They will laugh me to scorn, To come awa a wedded wife, Gae hame a maid the morn.'

C

Motherwell's manuscript, p. 351, from the recitation of Janet Holmes, an old woman in Kilbarchan, who derived the ballad from her mother; July 18, 1825.

1 'Learn to mak your bed, honey, And learn to lye your lane, For I'm gaun owre the salt seas, A fair lady to bring hame.

2 'And with her I'll get gold and gear, With thee I neer got nane; I took you as a waaf woman, I leave you as the same.'

3 'What aileth thee at me, my lord, What aileth thee at me, When seven bonnie sons I have born, All of your fair bodie?

4 'The eldest of your seven sons, He can both read and write; The second of your sons, my lord, Can do it more perfyte.

5 'The third one of your sons, my lord, He waters your milk-white steed; The fourth one of your sons, my lord, With red gold shines his weed.

6 'The fifth one of your sons, my lord, He serves you when you dine; The sixth one now you do behold, How he walks out and in.

7 'The seventh one of your sons, my lord, Sucks hard at my breast-bane; When a' the house they are at rest, For him I can get nane.

8 'And if you leave me thus forlorn, A wainless wife I'll be, For anybody's gold or gear That is beyond the sea.'

9 'O wha will bake my bridal bread, Or wha will brew my ale? Or wha will cook my kitchen neat, Or give my men their meal?'

10 'For love I'll bake your bridal bread, To brew your ale I'm fain, To cook your kitchen, as I have done, Till you return again.'

11 'O wha will bake my bridal bread, Or wha will brew my ale? Or wha will welcome my braw bride, That I bring owre the dale?'

12 'For love I'll bake your bridal bread, For love I'll brew your ale, And I will welcome your braw bride That you bring owre the dale.'

13 Her mind she keeped, but sair she weepd The time that he was gane . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

14 'Go up, go up, my eldest son, Go to the upmost ha, And see if you see your father coming, With your mother-to-be-in-law.'

15 'Put on, put on, O mother dear, Put on your gouns so braw, For yonder is my father coming, With my mother-to-be-in-law.'

16 She's taen the wheat-bread in one hand, The red wines, which plenty were, And she's gane to the outmost gate, And bid them welcome there.

17 'You're welcome here, my brother dear, Ye're welcome, brother John; Ye're welcome a' my brethern dear, That has this journey gone.'

18 'I thank you, sister Annie,' he says, 'And I thank you heartilie, And as you've welcomed home myself, You'll welcome my fair ladye.'

19 'If I had roses to my feet, And ribbons to my gown, And as leal a maid as your braw bride, I would speak without a frown.'

20 He's given her roses to her feet, And ribbons to her gown, And she has welcomed his braw bride, But weel that was her own!

21 'I thank you, sister Annie,' she says, 'I thank you heartilie, And if I be seven years about this place, Rewarded you shall be.'

22 She served them up, she served them down, And she served all their cries, And aye as she came down the stair The tears fell from her eyes.

23 When mass was sung, and all bells rung, And all men boune for bed, The good lord and his fair lady Were in their chamber laid.

24 But poor Annie and her seven sons Was in a room hard by, And as she lay she sighed and wept, And thus began to cry:

25 'O were my sons transformed to cats, To speel this castle wa, And I mysell a red blood-hound That I might worry them a'!'

26 The bride she overhearing all, And sair she rued her fate: 'Awauk, awauk, my lord,' she said, 'Awauk, for well you may; For there's a woman in this gate That will go mad ere day.

27 'I fear she is a leman of thine, And a leman meek and mild; Get up and pack her down the stairs, Tho the woods were neer sae wild.'

28 'O yes, she is a leman of mine, And a leman meek and kind, And I will not pack her down the stairs, For a' the gear that's thine.'

29 'O wha's your father, Ann?' she says, 'Or wha's your mother dear? Or wha's your sister, Ann?' she says, 'Or brother? let me hear.'

30 'King Easter he's my father dear, The Queen my mother was; John Armstrang, in the west-airt lands, My eldest brother is.'

31 'Then I'm your sister, Ann,' she says, 'And I'm a full sister to thee; You were stolen awa when very young, By the same lord's treacherie.

32 'I've seven ships upon the sea, All loaded to the brim, And five of them I'll give to thee, And twa shall carry me hame.

33 'My mother shall mak my tocher up, When I tell her how you thrive; For we never knew where you was gone, Or if you was alive.'

D

Herd, The Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 307.

1 'Wha will bake my bridal bread, And brew my bridal ale? And wha will welcome my brisk bride, That I bring oer the dale?'

2 'I will bake your bridal bread, And brew your bridal ale, And I will welcome your brisk bride, That you bring oer the dale.'

3 'But she that welcomes my brisk bride Maun gang like maiden fair; She maun lace on her robe sae jimp, And braid her yellow hair.'

4 'But how can I gang maiden-like, When maiden I am nane? Have I not born seven sons to thee, And am with child agen?'

5 She's taen her young son in her arms, Another in her hand, And she's up to the highest tower, To see him come to land.

6 'You're welcome to your house, master, You're welcome to your land; You're welcome with your fair lady, That you lead by the hand.'

* * * * * * *

7 And ay she servd the lang tables, With white bread and with wine, And ay she drank the wan water, To had her colour fine.

8 Now he's taen down a silk napkin, Hung on the silver pin, And ay he wipes the tears trickling Adown her cheek and chin.

E

Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 20; Jamieson's Popular Ballads, II, 371.

1 'O wha will bake my bridal bread, And brew my bridal ale? Wha will welcome my bright bride, That I bring oer the dale?'

2 'O I will bake your bridal bread, An brew your bridal ale; An I will welcome your bright bride, That you bring oer the dale.

3 'O she that welcomes my bright bride Maun gang like maiden fair; She maun lace her in her green cloathin, An braid her yallow hair.'

4 'O how can I gang maiden like, Whan maiden I am nane? Whan I ha born you seven sons, An am wi bairn again?'

5 The lady stood in her bowr door An lookit oer the lan, An there she saw her ain good lord, Leadin his bride by the han.

6 She's dressd her sons i the scarlet red, Hersel i the dainty green, An tho her cheek lookd pale and wan, She well might ha been a queen.

7 She calld upon her eldest son: 'Look yonder what you see; For yonder comes your father dear, Your step-mother him wi.

8 'O you'r welcome hame, my ain good lord, To your ha's but an your bowrs; You'r welcome hame, my ain good lord, To your castles an your towrs: Sae is your bright bride you beside, She's fairer nor the flowers.'

9 'O whatn a lady's that?' she says, 'That welcoms you an me? If I'm lang lady about this place, Some good I will her dee. She looks sae like my sister Jane, Was stoln i the bowr frae me.'

10 O she has servd the lang tables, Wi the white bread an the wine; But ay she drank the wan water, To keep her colour fine.

11 An she gid by the first table, An leugh amo them a'; But ere she reachd the second table, She let the tears down fa.

12 She's taen a napkin lang an white, An hung't upon a pin; It was to dry her watry eyes, As she went out and in.

13 Whan bells were rung, an mass was sung, An a' man boun to bed, The bride but an the bonny bridegroom In ae chamber was laid.

14 She's taen her harp intill her han, To harp this twa asleep; An ay as she harped an she sang, Full sorely did she weep.

15 'O seven fu fair sons I have born To the good lord o this place, An I wish that they were seven hares, To run the castle race, An I mysel a good gray houn, An I woud gi them chase.

16 'O seven fu fair sons I have born To the good lord o this ha; I wish that they were seven rottons, To rin the castle wa, An I mysell a good gray cat, I wot I woud worry them a'

17 'The earle o Richmond was my father, An the lady was my mother, An a' the bairns bisides mysel Was a sister an a brother.'

18 'Sing on, sing on, ye gay lady, I wot ye hae sung in time; Gin the earle o Richmond was your father, I wot sae was he mine.'

19 'Rise up, rise up, my bierly bride; I think my bed's but caul; I woudna hear my lady lament For your tocher ten times taul.

20 'O seven ships did bring you here, An an sal tak you hame; The leve I'll keep to your sister Jane, For tocher she gat nane.'

F

Motherwell's MS., p. 385; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 327. From the recitation of Mrs Rule, Paisley, August 16, 1825.

1 'Learn to mak your bed, Annie, And learn to lie your lane, For I maun owre the salt seas gang, A brisk bride to bring hame.

2 'Bind up, bind up your yellow hair, And tye it in your neck, And see you look as maiden-like As the first day that we met.'

3 'O how can I look maiden-like, When a maid I'll never be; When seven brave sons I've born to thee, And the eighth is in my bodie?

4 'The eldest of your sons, my lord, Wi red gold shines his weed; The second of your sons, my lord, Rides on a milk-white steed.

5 'And the third of your sons, my lord, He draws your beer and wine, And the fourth of your sons, my lord, Can serve you when you dine.

6 'And the fift of your sons, my lord, He can both read and write, And the sixth of your sons, my lord, Can do it maist perfyte.

7 'And the sevent of your sons, my lord, Sits on the nurse's knee; And how can I look maiden-like, When a maid I'll never be?

8 'But wha will bake your wedding bread, And brew your bridal ale? Or wha will welcome your brisk bride, That you bring owre the dale?'

9 'I'll put cooks in my kitchen, And stewards in my hall, And I'll have bakers for my bread, And brewers for my ale; But you're to welcome my brisk bride, That I bring owre the dale.'

10 He set his fut into his ship, And his cock-boat on the main; He swore it would be year and day Or he returned again.

11 When year and day was past and gane, Fair Annie she thocht lang, And she is up to her bower-head, To behold both sea and land.

12 'Come up, come up, my eldest son, And see now what you see; O yonder comes your father dear, And your stepmother-to-be.'

13 'Cast off your gown of black, mother, Put on your gown of brown, And I'll put off my mourning weeds, And we'll welcome him home.'

14 She's taken wine into her hand, And she has taken bread, And she is down to the water-side To welcome them indeed.

15 'You're welcome, my lord, you're welcome, my lord, You're welcome home to me; So is every lord and gentleman That is in your companie.

16 'You're welcome, my lady, you're welcome, my lady, You're welcome home to me; So is every lady and gentleman That's in your companye.'

17 'I thank you, my girl, I thank you, my girl, I thank you heartilie; If I live seven years about this house, Rewarded you shall be.'

18 She served them up, she served them down, With the wheat bread and the wine; But aye she drank the cold water, To keep her colour fine.

19 She servd them up, she servd them down, With the wheat bread and the beer; But aye she drank the cauld water, To keep her colour clear.

20 When bells were rung and mass was sung, And all were boune for rest, Fair Annie laid her sons in bed, And a sorrowful woman she was.

21 'Will I go to the salt, salt seas, And see the fishes swim? Or will I go to the gay green-wood, And hear the small birds sing?'

22 Out and spoke an aged man, That stood behind the door: 'Ye will not go to the salt, salt seas, To see the fishes swim; Nor will ye go to the gay green-wood, To hear the small birds sing.

23 'But ye'll tak a harp, into your hand, Go to their chamber door, And aye ye'll harp, and aye ye'll murn, With the salt tears falling oer.'

24 She's tane a harp into her hand, Went to their chamber door, And aye she harpd, and aye she murnd, With the salt tears falling oer.

25 Out and spak the brisk young bride, In bride-bed where she lay: 'I think I hear my sister Annie, And I wish weel it may; For a Scotish lord staw her awa, And an ill death may he die!

26 'Wha was your father, my girl,' she says, 'Or wha was your mother? Or had you ever a sister dear, Or had you ever a brother?'

27 'King Henry was my father dear, Queen Easter was my mother, Prince Henry was my brother dear, And Fanny Flower my sister.'

28 'If King Henry was your father dear, And Queen Easter was your mother, And Prince Henry was your brother dear, Then surely I'm your sister.

29 'Come to your bed, my sister dear, It neer was wrangd for me, But an ae kiss of his merry mouth, As we cam owre the sea.'

30 'Awa, awa, ye forenoon bride, Awa, awa frae me! I wudna hear my Annie greet, For a' the gold I got wi thee.'

31 'There was five ships of gay red gold Came owre the seas with me; It's twa o them will take me hame, And three I'll leave wi thee.

32 'Seven ships o white money Came owre the seas wi me; Five o them I'll leave wi thee, And twa'll tak me hame, And my mother will mak my portion up, When I return again.'

G

Communicated by Miss Margaret Reburn, as current in County Meath, Ireland, 1860-70.

1 She served them up, she served them down, She served them up with wine, But still she drank the clear spring water, To keep her color fine.

2 'I must get up, she must sit down, She must sit in my place, Or else be torn by wild horses And thrown over the gates.'

3 'You wont get up, she wont sit down, She wont sit in your place, Nor yet be torn by wild horses. Nor thrown over the gates.'

4 She called up her seven sons, By one, by two, by three: 'I wish you were all seven gray-hounds, This night to worry me.'

5 'What ails you, fair Ellen? what ails you, fair? Or why do you sigh and moan?' 'The hoops are off my wine hogsheads, And my wine is overflown.'

H

From Dr Thomas Davidson. Aberdeenshire.

1 'But wha will bake my bridal bread, An brew my bridal ale, And wha will welcome my bride hame, Is mair than I can tell.'

2 'It's I will bake your bridal bread, And brew your bridal ale, But wha will welcome your bride hame, It'll need tae be yersel.'

3 An she's hung up a silken towel Upon a golden pin, ... tae wipe her een, As she gaed but and ben.

I

Kinloch MSS, I, 155, May, 1827. "Composed of three recited versions obtained in the west of Scotland."

1 'Learn to mak your bed, Annie, And learn to lie your lane; For I am gaing oure the saut seas, A brisk bride to bring hame.

2 'Wi her I will get gowd and gear; Wi thee I neer gat nane; I got thee as a waif woman, I'll leave thee as the same.

3 'O wha will bake my bridal bread, Or brew my bridal ale? Or wha welcome my brisk bride, That I'll bring oure the dale?'

4 'O I will bake your bridal bread, And brew your bridal ale; But I downa welcam your brisk bride That ye'll bring frae the dale.'

5 'She that welcomes my brisk bride, She maun look maiden-like; She maun kaim doun her yellow locks, And lay them in her neck.'

6 'O how can I look maiden-like, Whan maiden I am nane? For seven sons I hae born to thee, And the eighth lies in my wame.

7 'But what aileth thee at me, my lord, What aileth thee at me, Whan seven braw sons I've born to thee, Out of my fair bodie?

8 'The first ane of your sons, my lord, Can baith read and write; And the second of your sons, my lord, Can do it maist perfyte.

9 'The third ane o your sons, my lord, Can water your grey steed; And the fourth ane o your sons, my lord, Can bake your bridal bread.

10 'The fifth ane o your sons, my lord, Can serve ye whan ye dine; And the sixth ane o your sons, my lord, Can brew your bridal wine.

11 'The seventh ane o your sons, my lord, Lies close at my breist-bane; Whan a' the lave are fast asleep, It's rest I can get nane.'

12 He set his foot into the stirrup, His hand upon the mane; Says, It will be year and day, ladie, Ere ye see me again.

13 Whan he had ae foot on the sea, The ither on dry lan, 'It will be year and day, ladie, Till I come back again.'

14 Whan year and day war past and gane, Fair Annie she thought lang; And she went up to her hie tower, Wi a silk seam in her hand.

15 She lookit east, she lookit west, And south, below the sun, And there she spied her ain gude lord, Coming sailing to the lan.

16 She called up her seven braw sons, By ane, twa, and by three: 'See, yonder comes your father, And your mother-for-to-be.'

17 And she called up her servants a': 'O come, behold and see! O yonder comes your master dear, And a new mistress brings he.

18 'Gae doun, gae doun, my eldest son, Into the outmost ha, And if ye welcome ane o them, Be sure to welcome a'.'

19 Some ran east, and some ran west, And some ran to the sea; There was na ane in a' his house To welcome his new ladie.

20 But Annie's to her coffer gane, Tane out a silver kaim, And she's kaimd doun her yellow hair, As she a maid had been.

21 And Annie has kaimd her lang yellow locks, And laid them in her neck; And she's awa to the saut, saut sea, To welcome his lady aff deck.

22 She durst na ca him her ain gude lord, For angering o the bride; But she did ca him master dear, And I wat he was richt glad.

23 'You're welcome, you're welcome, master,' she said, 'To your halls bot an your bouers; And sae are a' thir merry young men That come alang with you.

24 'You're welcome, you're welcome, fair ladie, To your halls but an your bouers; And sae are a' thir gay ladies; For a' that's here is yours.'

25 'I thank ye, I thank ye, fair maiden, I thank ye kindlie; If I be lang about this house, Rewarded ye sall be.

26 'I have a brither o mine ain; He's newly come frae sea; I think it wad be a richt gude match To marry him and thee.'

27 'I thank ye, I thank ye, fair ladie; Gie your brither to whom like ye; But there's never ane in this warld My wedding day sall see: But one word o my master dear In private wad I be.'

* * * * * * *

28 The first dish that fair Annie set doun, She lookit baith pale and wan; The neist dish that fair Annie set doun, She was scarce able to stan.

29 'O is this your mistress, good lord,' she says, 'Although she looks modest and mild? Then we will hunt her frae our house Wi dogs and hawks sae wild.'

30 'She's na my mistress, dear lady,' he says, 'Altho she looks modest and mild; Nor will we hunt her frae our house Wi dogs and hawks sae wild.'

31 Whan bells war rung, and mass was sung, And a' men boun for bed, The bonnie bride and the bridegroom In bride's bed they were laid.

32 Whan dinner was past, and supper was by, And a' were boun for bed, Fair Annie and her seven sons In a puir bye-chamber war laid.

33 Fair Annie took out her virginals, And sadly did she play; . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

34 'O gin my sons were yon grey rats, That climb the castle-wa, And I mysel a bloody grey cat, I'd rise and worry them a'.'

35 Then out and spak the bonny bride, In bride's bed whare she lay: 'I think this is like my sister Anne, That doth sae sadly play.'

36 'Lie still, lie still, my gay ladie, Lie still and sleep a wee; It's nathing but an auld servant, That waileth sae for me.'

37 'O gin my seven sons were seven young hares, That rin round the castle wa, And I mysel a bluidy grewhund, I wad rise and worry them a'.'

38 The new bride waukenit in the nicht, And blew upon her horn: 'I think I hear my sister's voice, That was stown frae us a bairn.'

39 'Sleep on, sleep on, dear lady,' he says, 'It's yon maiden in her dream, . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

40 'O wha was eer thy father, fair maid, Or wha was eer thy mither? Or wha was eer thy ae sister, Or wha was eer thy brither?'

41 'King Henry was my father,' she said, 'Queen Elinore was my mither; Fair Marion was my ae sister, Earl Robert was my brither.'

42 'Sin King Henry was your father, fair maid, And Queen Elinore your mither, O I am een your ae sister, And ye are just the ither.

43 'Come to your bed, fair Annie,' she said, 'Come to your bed full sune; I may weel say, I daur weel say, There is na evil dune.

44 'Seven ships of gold did bring me here, But ane shall tak me hame; Six I will leave to my sister Anne, To bring up her children young.

45 'But whan I gang to my father's ha, And tirl on the pin, The meanest in a' my father's house Will ca me a forsaken ane.'

J

Buchan's MSS, I, 66.

1 'Learn, O learn, Fair Annie,' he said, 'O learn to lie your lane; For I am going ower the sea, To woo and to bring hame

2 'A brighter and a fairer dame Than ever ye hae been; For I am going ower the sea, To chuse and bring her hame.'

3 'What aileth thee, my ain gude lord, What aileth thee at me? For seven braw sons hae I born Unto your fair bodie.

4 'The eldest o your sons, my lord, Is heir o a' your land; The second o your braw young sons He rises at your right hand.

5 'The third o your braw young sons He serves you when you dine; The fourth o your braw sons, my lord, He brings to you the wine.

6 'The fifth o your braw young sons Right well can use the pen; The sixth o your braw young sons, He's travelling but and ben.

7 'The seventh o your braw young sons, He lies on my breast-bane, The fairest flower amo them a', That lay my sides between.'

8 'But I am going ower the sea, To woo and to bring hame A lady wi some gowd and gear; Wi you I never got nane.'

9 'Ye staw me awa in twall years auld, Ye sought nae gowd wi me; Ye put me to the schools o Ayr For fully years three.

10 'But wha'll be cook in your kitchen, And butler in your ha? And wha will govern your merry young men, When ye are far awa?'

11 'O ye'll be cook in my kitchen, And butler in my ha, And ye'll wait on my merry young men, And serve them ane and a'.'

12 'But wha will bake your bridal bread, And wha will brew your ale? And wha will welcome that lady That ye bring ower the dale?

13 'O ye will bake my bridal bread, And ye will brew my ale, And ye will welcome that lady That I bring ower the dale.

14 'Ye'll bake bread, and ye'll brew ale, For three score knights and ten; That day month I gang awa, The same day I'll come again.'

15 'O I will bake your bridal bread, And I will brew your ale; But oh, to welcome another woman My heart will nae be hale.'

16 'Ye will put roses in your hair, And ribbons in your sheen, And ye will look fair maiden like, Though maiden ye be nane.'

17 'O I'll put roses in my hair, And ribbons in my sheen, And may be look as maiden-like As the bride ye bring hame.'

18 Two of his sons he sent before, And two rade by his side, And three he left at hame wi her, She was the brightest bride.

19 As she was gazing her around, To view the rural plain, And there she saw the bridal folk, Merrily coming hame.

20 'Come here, come here, my boys a', Ye see not what I see; For here I see your fair father, And a step-mother to thee.

21 'O shall I call him honey, Sandy, Husband, or my gude lord? Or shall I call him my gude master, Let well or woe betide?'

22 'Ye winna call him honey, mother, For angering o the bride; But ye'll call him your gude master, Let well or woe betide.'

23 She buskd her bonny boys in black, Herself in simple green, A kaim o gowd upon her hair, As maiden she had been.

24 She's taen the white bread in her lap, The wine glass in her hand, And she's gane out upo the green, To welcome the bride hame.

25 She woudna ca him her ain gude lord, For angering o the bride: 'Ye're welcome hame, my gude master, Your lands lie braid and wide.'

26 'O fair mat fa you, Fair Annie, Sae well's ye've welcomd me; Ye might hae welcomd my new bride; Some gift to you she'll gie.'

27 'Ye're welcome hame, ye new-come bride, To your ha's and your bowers; Ye're welcome hame, my lady gay, Ye're whiter than the flowers.'

28 'O wha is this,' the bride did say, 'Sae well that welcomes me? If I'm lang lady o this place Some gift to her I'll gie.

29 'She's likest to my dear sister That eer my eyes did see; A landit lord staw her awa, An ill death mat he die!

30 'I hae a brother here this day, Fairer ye neer did see; And I woud think nae ill a match Unto this fair ladie.'

31 'Ye'll wed your brother on a stock, Sae do ye on a stane; I'll wed me to the kingdom of heaven, For I'll neer wed a man.'

32 She servd the footmen o the beer, The nobles o the wine; But nane did cross her pale, pale lips, For changing o her min.

33 When she came in unto the room She leuch amo them a', But when she turnd her back about She loot the saut tears fa.

34 She hanged up a silken cloath Upon a siller pin; It was to dry her twa blue eyes, As she went out and in.

35 Her heart wi sorrow sair was filld, Her breast wi milk ran out; She aft went to a quiet chamber, And let her young son suck.

36 'There is a woman in this house This day has served me; But I'll rise up, let her sit down, She's ate, that I may see.

37 'O wha is this,' the bride coud say, 'That serves this day sae well? And what means a' this bonny boys, That follow at her heel?'

38 'This is my sister, Fair Annie, That serves this day sae well, And these are a' her bauld brothers, That follow at her heel.'

39 Then out it speaks the new-come bride, Was full o jealousie: 'I fear there's something new, my lord, Ye mean to hide frae me.

40 'But if she be your light leman Has me sae sair beguild, She shall gae out at my window, And range the woods sae wild.'

41 When day was dane, and night drew on, And a' man bound for bed, The bridegroom and the new-come bride In ae chamber were laid.

42 The lady being left alone, Nursing her fair young son, She has taen up her gude lord's harp, She harped and she sung.

43 'Seven braw sons hae I born To the lord o this place; I wish they were seven hares To run the castle race, And I mysel a gude greyhound, To gie them a' a chace.'

44 'Lie near, lie near, my ain gude lord, Lie near and speak wi me; There is a woman in the house, She will be wild ere day.'

45 'Lie still, lie still, my new-come bride, Lie still and take your rest; The pale's out o my wine-puncheon, And lang it winna rest.'

46 She held the harp still in her hand, To harp them baith asleep, And aye she harped and she sang, And saut tears she did weep.

47 'Seven braw sons hae I born To the gude lord o this ha; I wish that they were seven brown rats, To climb the castle wa, And I mysel a gude grey cat, To take them ane and a'.'

48 'Lie near, lie near, my ain gude lord, Lie near and speak wi me; There is a woman in this house, She will be wild ere day.'

49 'Lie yond, lie yond, my new-come bride, My sheets are wonderous cauld; I woudna hear my love's lament For your gowd ten thousand fauld.'

50 'O wae be to you, ye fause lord, Some ill death mat ye die! For that's the voice o my sister Ann, Was stown frae yont the sea.'

51 'Fair mat fa ye, ye buirdly bride, A gude death mat ye die! For that's the voice o your sister Ann, Was stown frae yont the sea; I came seeking Annie's tocher, I was not seeking thee.'

52 'Seven gude ships I hae brought here, In seven I'se gae hame; And a' the gowd that I brought here, It's a' gang back again.'

53 'Seven ships they brought you here, But ye'll gang hame in ane; Ye'll leave the rest to tocher Ann, For wi her I got nane.'

54 'Seven ships they brought me here, But I'll gang hame in ane; I'll get my sister's eldest son To hae me maiden hame.

55 'My father wants not gowd nor gear, He will get me a man; And happy, happy will he be To hear o his daughter Ann.

56 'I hae my sheen upon my feet, My gloves upon my hand, And ye'll come to your bed, Annie, For I've dane you nae wrang.'

* * * * *

#C.#

'Fair Annie' I took this day from the recitation of Janet Holmes, an old woman in Kilbarchan. It was, as she described it, a "lang rane" of her mother's. July 18, 1825. Motherwell.

1^1. honey is probably a corruption of Annie.

5^4. his wig.

19^3. I must be understood, I as leal, but does not require to be inserted.

20^4. Possibly not correct. To all would, no doubt, be an easy reading, but the abrupt exclamation is more like nature.

29^1. Oh.

#E.#

11^2. laugh.

14^3. harpd.

20^1. you hame.

#F.#

12^3. Oh.

22^3. Ye wilt.

#I.#

28^1. sat.

45^2. tirls.

41 ff. In one of the Kinloch versions thus:

'King Henry is my father,' she says, 'Queen Orvis is my mither, And a' the bairns about the house Are just my sister and brither.'

'O if ye be ane o thae, Fair Anne, Sure I'm ane o' the same, And come to your gude lord, Anne, And be ye blythe again.

'For he never wed me for his love, But for my tocher fee, And I am as free o him this day As the bairn on the nurse's knee.'

#J.#

36^2. hae served.

The following more obvious and entirely superfluous interpolations have been omitted from the text.

After 9:

But ye were feard the Duke of York Should come and bide wi me, As he showed kindness and respect, Which greatly grieved thee.

After 18:

But it fell ance upon a day, 'T was aye day by it lane, Fair Annie was washing her fingers, Above a marble stane.

After 28:

O he that staw my ae sister Did leave my bower full bare; I wish a sharp sword at his breast, Cauld iron be his share!

He looked ower his right shoulder, A light laugh then gie he; Said, Hear na ye my new-come bride, Sae sair as she brands me?

The bride she patted wi her lips, She winked wi her ee, Yet never thought by the words he spake 'T was her sister, Annie.

After 35:

When they had eaten and well drunken, And all had fared fine, The knight he called his butlers all, For to serve out the wine.

After 38:

Then out it speaks an English lord, A smart young lord was he: 'O if she be a maiden fair, Wi her I'se wedded be.'

The bridegroom gae a laugh at that Amang his merry young men; Says, There's a hynd chiel in the house Runs far nearer her mind.

After 53:

O if this be my sister dear, It's welcome news to me; I woud hae gien her thrice as much Her lovely face to see.

[72] #F# 2 reads, "Bind up your hair, and tie it in your neck," which is deceptive. It was an imperative custom, as is well known, that the married woman should bind up her hair or wear it under a cap, while a maid wore it loose or in a braid; a yard long, like Chaucer's Emily, if she had as much. See #D# 3, #E# 3, #I# 5, and Prior's Danish Ballads, II, 180 f.

[73] And John Armstrang her eldest brother, #C# 30: so the Scottish king was right when he weened Johnie was a king as well as he.

[74] "The tradition which commonly accompanies this tale," says Jamieson, Popular Ballads, II, 83, "says that he was aware of his bride's being the sister of his mistress, and that he had courted her, not with a view of retaining her as his wife, but of securing from her father a portion for Lady Jane, whom he intended to marry:" a canny project adopted into the degenerate and interpolated #J# (st. 53), but rather too sharp practice for an old ballad.

[75] The boys are all dressed in scarlet red in Danish #E# 24, #F# 27, #H# 21; so in English #E# 6, but in #J# 23 in black.

[76]

And the young bride throws down a half gold-ring, Fair Annie she throws down the other, And a pair of loving sisters were they, And the rings they ran together.

Swedish #B# 32.

[77] Vorige span, sts 14,15, for which Hoffmann reads voorgespan, meaning a fore-span. A span of horses is as absurd here as possible, but is adopted in the German version, and made to point a gibe at the king. It would seem that the Dutch voorspan, brooch or clasp, German spange (see Hexham's Dictionary, 1658), must have been for some time obsolete. In Richthofen's Altfriesisches Wörterbuch we find simply span, spon: "verstanden ist darunter ein goldener Schmuck den die friesischen Weiber vor der Brust trugen." Stanza 15 is interpreted accordingly.

[78] "Voorgespan" again.

[79] Roquefort, Poésies de Marie de France, I, 138. There is a highly felicitous old English translation, unfortunately somewhat defective: Weber, Metrical Romances, I, 357, Ellis's Specimens, III, 282, what is missing being supplied in each case from the French.

[80] For this idea see Grimm's Rechtsalterthümer, p. 456 of the 2d ed., and Deutsche Sagen, 515, 534, 571; the English romance of Octavian, Weber, III, 162, vv 127-132, the French, in Conybeare's abridgment, p. 3, reprint of the Aungervyle Society, p. 23; the volksbuch Kaiser Octavianus, Simrock, II, 244; the Spanish ballad 'Espinelo,' Duran, I, 177, No 323, and again a 16th century ballad of Timoneda, II, 392, No 1346. This last may be the foundation of a broadside in the Pepys collection, I, 40, No 18: "The Lamenting Lady, who, for wrongs done by her to a poor woman for having two children at one burthen, was by the hand of God most strangely punished by sending her as many children at one birth as there are days in the year." But we have the same miracle in Grimm's Deutsche Sagen, No 578. Further, Grundtvig, V, 386, 'Grevens Datter af Vendel,' No 258, #E# 1; Li Reali di Francia, l. II, c. 42, p 180 of the edition of Venice, 1821. (Grundtvig.)

[81] 'Las dos Hermanas,' Catalan, Castilian, Asturian. Milá, Observaciones, p. 117, No 19,==Briz, II, 159; p. 124, No 24,==Primavera, II, 38, No 130; Briz, II, 161. Milá, Romancerillo, p. 214, No 242, #A-E#, p. 216, No 242. Amador de los Rios, Historia de la Lit. Esp., VII, 455 f. Portuguese. 'Rainha e Captiva,' Almeida-Garrett, II, 193, No 11, 2d ed.; 'Romance de Branca-Flor,' Braga, Romanceiro Geral, p. 103, No 38; Romanceiro da Madeira, p. 211; Roméro e Braga, Cantos populares do Brazil, I, 41 ff, Nos 22, 23, II, 203. In some of these the queen identifies the captive by overhearing, while she lies in bed, words said or sung by her sister. In Chodzko, Chants de l'Ukraine, p. 88, No 17, the captive sister is replaced by a (Polish) mother in slavery among the Turks.

63

CHILD WATERS

#A.# 'Childe Waters,' Percy MS., p. 274; Hales and Furnival, II, 269.

#B. a.# 'Burd Ellen,' Jamieson's Brown MS., fol. 22. #b.# 'Lord John and Bird Ellen,' A. Fraser Tytler's Brown MS., No 9.

#C.# 'Lady Margaret,' Kinloch's annotated copy of his Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 180.

#D.# Kinloch MSS, VII, 325.

#E.# 'Fair Margaret,' Harris MS., No 8, p. 12 b.

#F.# Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 114, from Mrs Arrot of Arberbrothick.

#G.# 'Cruel William,' Buchan's MSS, II, 129.

#H.# 'Burd Alone,' Motherwell's MS., p. 277.

#I.# Communicated by Dr Davidson, derived from Old Deer, Aberdeenshire.

#J.# 'Burd Helen,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 30.

#A# was printed in Percy's Reliques, III, 58, ed. 1765, with comparatively few changes. #B a# was published by Jamieson, from Mrs Brown's manuscript, in his Popular Ballads, I, 113, with some slight variation from the text, many acknowledged interpolations, and the addition of three sentimental stanzas to make Burd Ellen die just as her enduring all things is to be rewarded. In this tragic close, Jamieson was anticipated by Mrs Hampden Pye, in her 'Earl Walter,' 1771, Evans's Old Ballads, II, 208, 1777. #C# is given as it appears in Kinloch's annotated copy of his Ancient Scottish Ballads, where ten stanzas are inserted to enlarge and complete the copy published in 1827. This enlarged copy was communicated to Chambers, and seven of the supplementary stanzas were introduced into his compilation, The Scottish Ballads, p. 193. These supplementary stanzas, some of them certainly, and we may suppose all, belonged to a copy of which only the concluding portion, here given as #D#, is elsewhere preserved.

The variations in the several versions of this charming ballad, which has perhaps no superior in English, and if not in English perhaps nowhere,[82] are not material, and the story may therefore be given as it runs in #A#, the oldest copy. Fair Ellen comes to Child Waters, and tells him that her gown, which was too wide, is now too narrow. He bids her be content and take two shires of land; she would rather have one kiss from his mouth than Cheshire and Lancashire both. He must ride far into the North the next day; she asks to be his foot-page. This she may be if she will shorten her gown and clip her locks, so as not to be known for a woman. He rides hard all day, and she keeps up with him barefoot. They come to a broad piece of salt water; he lets her get through as she can, but Our Lady bears up her chin. Then he points out a splendid hall, where are four and twenty ladies, and the fairest is his love and wife. God give both good! is all she says. Arrived there, Ellen takes his horse to the stable. At bed-time he sends her to the town, to bring him the fairest lady that can be found, to sleep in his arms, and to bring this lady in her arms, for filing of her feet. Ellen lies at the foot of the bed, for want of other place, and before dawn is roused by Child Waters to feed his horse. The pains of travail come on her in the stable; Child Waters' mother hears her moans, and bids him get up. He stands at the stable-door and listens. Ellen sings:

Lullaby, dear child, dear! I would thy father were a king, Thy mother laid on a bier!

This moves even his sturdy heart; he tells Ellen to be of good cheer, for the bridal and the churching shall both be on one day.

In #B#, #C#, #E#, #G#, #I#, #J# the man relents so far as, when they are in the water, to ask her to ride. She will not, #C#, #E#, #I#; he takes her on at a stone which stands in the middle of the stream, #B#, #G#, #J#. The stream is Clyde in #B#, #C#, #E#, #G#, #J#; the Tay in #I#. In #C#, #E#, #F#, #H# he tells her after they have passed the water, that it is three and thirty miles to his house; a (poetically) superfluous and meddling parrot says it is but three. In #C#, #G# he tells her that she will have a serving-man for a husband, and in #H# that he has already wife and bairns.

One stroke in #A#, the sending of Ellen to fetch a woman from the town, is wanting in the other versions, decidedly to their advantage. This exaggeration of insult, submitting to which only degrades the woman, is paralleled, though not quite reached, by the paramour in the forest in the otherwise exquisitely refined tale of The Nut-Brown Maid. As for the ballad, the disagreeable passage may be an insertion of some unlucky singer, and the perfect truth to nature and remarkably high taste of The Nut-Brown Maid, in every other particular, would almost drive us to assume an interpolation in this case too.

#E# 1, 2, 16, #F# 2, 3 show contact with the ballad of 'Lizzie Lindsay;' the passing of the water, particularly in #E# 8-12, with 'The Knight and Shepherd's Daughter;' and again, #H# 21.

An exceedingly popular Scandinavian ballad is manifestly of the same source, though the story is told in a very different way, the cruel trials to which the woman's love is put being entirely lacking: #Danish#, 'Jomfru og Stalddreng,' Grundtvig, V, 171, No 267, #A-A#. #Swedish#, #A#, 'Liten Kerstin Stalldräng,' Afzelius, II, 15, No 33; #B#, 'Stolts Botelid Stalldräng,' Afzelius, II, 20, No 34; #C-E#, 'Liten Kerstin Stalldräng,' Arwidsson, II, 179, No 109, Hofberg's Nerikes gamla Minnen, p. 254, Öberg in Aminson, I, 28; #F-I#, from Cavallius and Stephens's manuscript collection, Grundtvig, V, 217 f; #J#, 'Liten Kerstin och Dane-Peter,' Wigström, Folkdiktning, #I#, 66, No 32. #Norwegian#, #A#, 'Liti Kersti som stalldreng,' Landstad, p. 605, No 78; #B-E#, Grundtvig, V, 218-20; #F#, Landstad, p. 605, note. (Several of these are only a verse or two.) Danish #A-F# are from manuscripts of the sixteenth or seventeenth century; #G# was printed at the end of the seventeenth; the other copies are from recent tradition, but nevertheless point to a higher antiquity than those which were taken down earlier. There is naturally much variation in details among so many copies, and it will be sufficient to indicate the general character of the story. A young woman, who may be called Kirstin, clips her hair and puts on man's clothes, seeks service at court, and is taken as stable-boy, at the instance of a man (often the king's son, or of other high rank) who may be called Peter, with whom she, in some copies, seems to have had a previous connection. Peter, as an accommodation, lets the stable-boy sleep with him. In the course of time Kirstin cannot do duty any more, cannot buckle on spurs, is ill and requires woman's assistance, which the queen renders. She gives birth to twins in the stable (among the horses' legs, as in English, #B# 30, #J# 30). A merry wedding follows.[83]

Another Scandinavian ballad has a limited resemblance to 'Child Waters:' #Danish#, 'Den trofaste Jomfru,' Grundtvig, IV, 494, No 249, #A-I#; 'Den fredløse,' Kristensen, II, 191, No 57 (A-C), #J-L#. #Swedish#, #A#, 'De Sju Gullbergen,' Afzelius, III, 71, No 79; #B#, #C#, from Cavallius and Stephens's collection, Grundtvig, IV, 507f. #Norwegian#, #A#, 'Herre Per og stolt Margit,' Landstad, p. 590, No 74; #B#, Herr' Nikelus, Landstad, p. 594, No 75. The ballad begins like Danish 'Ribold og Guldborg' and 'Kvindemorderen.' A knight carries off a maid, making her fine promises, among which gold castles commonly figure. He takes her over a very wide piece of water, an arm of the sea, on his horse in most versions; in Danish #B#, #K# they swim it. When they come to land, she asks Where are the promised castles? Danish #C#, #D#, #J#, #K#, #L#, Norwegian #A#, #B#. He tells her that he is a penniless outlaw (wanting in Swedish #A#, #C#); she offers the gold she has brought with her to buy him his peace (wanting in Swedish #A#, #C#, Norwegian #B#). He tells her he has another love; she is willing to be their servant (wanting in Danish #A#, #B#, #C#, #I#, Norwegian #B#). Here he ceases his trial of her; he is a royal, or very opulent, person, she is to have a troop of servants, the castles are not in the air, and all ends happily.

* * * * *

Percy's edition of #A# is translated (freely) by Bürger, 'Graf Walter,' and Bürger's version is revised, to bring it slightly nearer the original, by Bothe, Volkslieder, p. 199. Percy is translated by Bodmer, I, 41. #I# is translated by Gerhard, p. 117, and Aytoun's compilation, I, 239, by Knortz, Schottische Balladen, p. 11. The Danish ballad is translated by Prior, III, 25, after Danske Viser, IV, 116, Syv, Fourth Part, No 31, Grundtvig's #G c#.

A

Percy MS., p. 274; Hales and Furnivall, II, 269.

1 Childe Watters in his stable stoode, And stroaket his milke-white steede; To him came a ffaire young ladye As ere did weare womans wee[de].

2 Saies, Christ you saue, good Chyld Waters! Sayes, Christ you saue and see! My girdle of gold, _whi_ch was too longe, Is now to short ffor mee.

3 'And all is with one chyld of yours, I ffeele sturre att my side; My gowne of greene, it is to strayght; Before it was to wide.'

4 'If the child be mine, Faire Ellen,' he sayd, 'Be mine, as you tell mee, Take you Cheshire and Lancashire both, Take them yo_u_r owne to bee.

5 'If the child be mine, Ffaire Ellen,' he said, 'Be mine, as you doe sweare, Take you Cheshire and Lancashire both, And make _tha_t child yo_u_r heyre.'

6 Shee saies, I had rather haue one kisse, Child Waters, of thy mouth, Then I wold haue Cheshire and Lancashire both, _Tha_t lyes by north and south.

7 'And I had rather haue a twinkling, Child Waters, of yo_u_r eye, Then I wold haue Cheshire and Lancashire both, To take them mine oune to bee.'

8 'To-morrow, Ellen, I must forth ryde Soe ffarr into the north countrye; The ffairest lady _tha_t I can ffind, Ellen, must goe w_i_th mee.' 'And euer I pray you, Child Watters, Yo_u_r ffootpage let me bee!'

9 'If you will my ffootpage be, Ellen, As you doe tell itt mee, Then you must cutt your gownne of greene An inche aboue yo_u_r knee.

10 'Soe must you doe yo_u_r yellow lockes, Another inch aboue yo_u_r eye; You must tell noe man what is my name; My ffootpage then you shall bee.'

11 All this long day Child Waters rode, Shee ran bare ffoote by his side; Yett was he neu_er_ soe curteous a k_nigh_t To say, Ellen, will you ryde?

12 But all this day Child Waters rode, Shee ran barffoote thorow the broome; Yett he was neu_er_ soe curteous a k_nigh_t As to say, Put on yo_u_r shoone.

13 'Ride softlye,' shee said, 'Child Watters; Why doe you ryde soe ffast? The child w_hi_ch is no mans but yours My bodye itt will burst.'

14 He sayes, Sees thou yonder water, Ellen, _Tha_t fflowes from banke to brim? 'I trust to god, Child Waters,' shee said, 'You will neuer see mee swime.'

15 But when shee came to the waters side, Shee sayled to the chinne: 'Except the lo_rd_ of heauen be my speed, Now must I learne to swime.'

16 The salt waters bare vp Ellens clothes, Our Ladye bare vpp he[r] chinne, And Child Waters was a woe man, good Lo_rd_, To ssee Faire Ellen swime.

17 And when shee ouer the water was, Shee then came to his knee: He said, Come hither, Ffaire Ellen, Loe yonder what I see!

18 'Seest thou not yonder hall, Ellen? Of redd gold shine the yates; There's four and twenty ffayre ladyes, The ffairest is my wordlye make.

19 'Seest thou not yonder hall, Ellen? Of redd gold shineth the tower; There is four and twenty ffaire ladyes, The fairest is my paramoure.'

20 'I doe see the hall now, Child Waters, _Tha_t of redd gold shineth the yates; God giue good then of yo_u_r selfe, And of yo_u_r wordlye make!

21 'I doe see the hall now, Child Waters, _Tha_t of redd gold shineth the tower; God giue good then of yo_u_r selfe, And of yo_u_r paramoure!'

22 There were four and twenty ladyes, Were playing att the ball, And Ellen, was the ffairest ladye, Must bring his steed to the stall.

23 There were four and twenty faire ladyes Was playing att the chesse; And Ellen, shee was the ffairest ladye, Must bring his horsse to grasse.

24 And then bespake Child Waters sister, And these were the words said shee: You haue the prettyest ffootpage, brother, _Tha_t euer I saw w_i_th mine eye;

25 'But _tha_t his belly it is soe bigg, His girdle goes wonderous hye; And eu_er_ I pray you, Child Waters, Let him goe into the chamber w_i_th mee.'

26 'It is more meete for a little ffootpage, _Tha_t has run through mosse and mire, To take his supper vpon his knee And sitt downe by the kitchin fyer, Then to goe into the chamber w_i_th any ladye That weares soe [rich] attyre.'

27 But when thé had supped euery one, To bedd they took the way; He sayd, Come hither, my little footpage, Harken what I doe say.

28 And goe thee downe into yonder towne, And low into the street; The ffairest ladye that thou can find, Hyer her in mine armes to sleepe, And take her vp in thine armes two, For filinge of her ffeete.

29 Ellen is gone into the towne, And low into the streete; The fairest ladye _tha_t shee cold find Shee hyred in his armes to sleepe, And tooke her in her armes two, For filing of her ffeete.

30 'I pray you now, good Child Waters, That I may creepe in att yo_u_r bedds feete; For there is noe place about this house Where I may say a sleepe.'

31 This [night] and itt droue on affterward Till itt was neere the day: He sayd, Rise vp, my litle ffoote-page, And giue my steed corne and hay; And soe doe thou the good blacke oates, _Tha_t he may carry me the better away.

32 And vp then rose Ffaire Ellen, And gaue his steed corne and hay, And soe shee did and the good blacke oates, _Tha_t he might carry him the better away.

33 Shee layned her backe to the manger side, And greiuouslye did groane; And _tha_t beheard his mother deere, And heard her make her moane.

34 Shee said, Rise vp, thou Child Waters, I thinke thou art a cursed man; For yonder is a ghost in thy stable, _Tha_t greiuouslye doth groane, Or else some woman laboures of child, Shee is soe woe begone.

35 But vp then rose Child Waters, And did on his shirt of silke; Then he put on his other clothes On his body as white as milke.

36 And when he came to the stable-dore, Full still _tha_t hee did stand, _Tha_t hee might heare now Faire Ellen, How shee made her monand.

37 Shee said, Lullabye, my owne deere child! Lullabye, deere child, deere! I wold thy father were a king, Thy mother layd on a beere!

38 'Peace now,' he said, 'good Faire Ellen, And be of good cheere, I thee pray, And the bridall and the churching both, They shall bee vpon one day.'

B

#a.# Jamieson's Brown MS., fol. 22, taken down from Mrs Brown's recitation before 1783. #b.# A. Fraser Tytler's Brown MS., No 9, as recited by Mrs Brown in 1800.

1 'I warn ye all, ye gay ladies, That wear scarlet an brown, That ye dinna leave your father's house, To follow young men frae town.'

2 'O here am I, a lady gay, That wears scarlet an brown, Yet I will leave my father's house, An follow Lord John frae the town.'

3 Lord John stood in his stable-door, Said he was bound to ride; Burd Ellen stood in her bowr-door, Said she'd rin by his side.

4 He's pitten on his cork-heeld shoone, An fast awa rade he; She's clade hersel in page array, An after him ran she.

5 Till they came till a wan water, An folks do ca it Clyde; Then he's lookit oer his left shoulder, Says, Lady, can ye wide?

6 'O I learnt it i my father house, An I learnt it for my weal, Wenneer I came to a wan water, To swim like ony eel.'

7 But the firstin stap the lady stappit, The water came til her knee; 'Ohon, alas!' said the lady, 'This water's oer deep for me.'

8 The nextin stap the lady stappit, The water came till her middle; An sighin says that gay lady, I've wat my gouden girdle

9 The nextin stap the lady stappit, The water came till her pap; An the bairn that was in her twa sides For caul begane to quake.

10 'Lye still, lye still, my ain dear babe, Ye work your mither wae; Your father rides on high horse-back, Cares little for us twae.'

11 O about the midst o Clyden water There was a yeard-fast stane; He lightly turnd his horse about, An took her on him behin.

12 'O tell me this now, good Lord John, An a word ye dinna lee, How far it is to your lodgin, Whare we this night maun be?'

13 'O see you nae yon castle, Ellen, That shines sae fair to see? There is a lady in it, Ellen, Will sunder you an me.

14 'There is a lady in that castle Will sunder you and I:' 'Betide me well, betide me wae, I sal go there an try.'

15 'O my dogs sal eat the good white bread, An ye sal eat the bran; Then will ye sigh, an say, alas! That ever I was a man!'

16 'O I sal eat the good white bread, An your dogs sal eat the bran; An I hope to live an bless the day, That ever ye was a man.'

17 'O my horse sal eat the good white meal, An ye sal eat the corn; Then will ye curse the heavy hour That ever your love was born.'

18 'O I sal eat the good white meal, An your horse sal eat the corn; An I ay sall bless the happy hour That ever my love was born.'

19 O four an twenty gay ladies Welcomd Lord John to the ha, But a fairer lady then them a' Led his horse to the stable sta.

20 An four an twenty gay ladies Welcomd Lord John to the green, But a fairer lady than them a' At the manger stood alane.

21 Whan bells were rung, an mass was sung, An a' men boun to meat, Burd Ellen at a bye-table Amo the foot-men was set.

22 'O eat an drink, my bonny boy, The white bread an the beer:' 'The never a bit can I eat or drink, My heart's sae full of fear.'

23 'O eat an drink, my bonny boy, The white bread an the wine:' 'O I canna eat nor drink, master, My heart's sae full of pine.'

24 But out it spake Lord John's mother, An a wise woman was she: 'Whare met ye wi that bonny boy, That looks sae sad on thee?

25 'Sometimes his cheek is rosy red, An sometimes deadly wan; He's liker a woman big wi bairn, Than a young lord's serving man.'

26 'O it makes me laugh, my mother dear, Sic words to hear frae thee; He is a squire's ae dearest son, That for love has followd me.

27 'Rise up, rise up, my bonny boy, Gi my horse corn an hay:' 'O that I will, my master dear, As quickly as I may.'

28 She's taen the hay under her arm, The corn intill her han, An she's gane to the great stable, As fast as eer she can.

29 'O room ye roun, my bonny broun steeds, O room ye near the wa; For the pain that strikes me thro my sides Full soon will gar me fa.'

30 She's leand her back against the wa; Strong travail seizd her on; An even amo the great horse feet Burd Ellen brought forth her son.

31 Lord John'[s] mither intill her bowr Was sitting all alone, Whan, i the silence o the night, She heard fair Ellen's moan.

32 'Won up, won up, my son,' she says, 'Go se how a' does fare; For I think I hear a woman's groans, An a bairn greeting sair.'

33 O hastily he gat him up, Stayd neither for hose nor shoone, An he's doen him to the stable-door, Wi the clear light o the moon.

34 He strack the door hard wi his foot, An sae has he wi his knee, An iron locks an iron bars Into the floor flung he: 'Be not afraid, Burd Ellen,' he says, 'Ther's nane come in but me.'

35 Up he has taen his bonny young son, An gard wash him wi the milk; An up has he taen his fair lady, Gard row her in the silk.

36 'Cheer up your heart, Burd Ellen,' he says, 'Look nae mair sad nor wae; For your marriage an your kirkin too Sal baith be in ae day.'

C

Kinloch's annotated copy of his Ancient Scottish Ballads, Kinloch MSS, IV, 180.

1 'The corn is turning ripe, Lord John, The nuts are growing fu, And ye are bound for your ain countrie, Fain wad I go wi you.'

2 'Wi me, Margret, wi me, Margret, What wad ye do wi me? I've mair need o a pretty little boy, To wait upon my steed.'

3 'It's I will be your pretty little boy, To wait upon your steed; And ilka town that we come to, A pack of hounds I'll lead.'

4 'My hounds will eat o the bread o wheat, And ye of the bread of bran; And then you will sit and sigh, That eer ye loed a man.'

5 The first water that they cam to, I think they call it Clyde, He saftly unto her did say, Lady Margret, will ye ride?

6 The first step that she steppit in, She steppit to the knee; Says, Wae be to ye, waefu water, For through ye I maun be.

7 The second step that she steppit in, She steppit to the middle, And sighd, and said, Lady Margaret, 'I've staind my gowden girdle.'

8 The third step that she steppit in, She steppit to the neck; The pretty babe within her sides, The cauld it garrd it squake.

9 'Lie still my babe, lie still my babe, Lie still as lang's ye may, For your father rides on horseback high, Cares little for us twae.'

10 It's whan she cam to the other side, She sat doun on a stane; Says, Them that made me, help me now, For I am far frae hame.

11 'How far is it frae your mither's bouer, Gude Lord John tell to me?' 'It's therty miles, Lady Margaret, It's therty miles and three: And yese be wed to ane o her serving men, For yese get na mair o me.'

12 Then up bespak the wylie parrot, As it sat on the tree, 'Ye lee, ye lee, Lord John,' it said, 'Sae loud as I hear ye lee.

13 'Ye say it's therty miles frae your mither's bouer, Whan it's but barely three; And she'll neer be wed to a serving man, For she'll be your ain ladie.'

14 ['O dinna ye see yon bonnie castle, Lies on yon sunny lea? And yese get ane o my mither's men, For yese get na mair o me.']

15 ['Well see I yon bonnie castle, Lies on yon sunny lea, But Ise neer hae nane o your mither's men, Tho I never gat mair o thee.']

16 [Whan he cam to the porter's yett He tirled at the pin, And wha sae ready as the bauld porter To open and lat him in.]

17 Monie a lord and fair ladie Met Lord John in the closs, But the bonniest face amang them a' Was hauding Lord John's horse.

18 [Monie a lord and lady bricht Met Lord John on the green, But the bonniest boy amang them a' Was standing by, him leen.]

19 Monie a lord and gay ladie Sat dining in the ha, But the bonniest face that was there Was waiting on them a'.

20 O up bespak Lord John's sister, A sweet young maid was she: 'My brither has brought a bonnie young page, His like I neer did see; But the red flits fast frae his cheek, And the tear stands in his ee.'

21 But up bespak Lord John's mither, She spak wi meikle scorn: 'He's liker a woman gret wi bairn, Than onie waiting-man.'

22 'It's ye'll rise up, my bonnie boy, And gie my steed the hay:' 'O that I will, my dear master, As fast as I can gae.'

23 She took the hay aneath her arm, The corn intil her hand, But atween the stable-door and the staw, Lady Margret made a stand.

24 [Whan bells were rung, and mass was sung, And a' men boun for bed, Lord John, mither, and sister gay In ae bour they were laid.]

25 [Lord John had na weel gat aff his claise, Nor was he weel laid doun, Till his mither heard a bairn greet, And a woman's heavy moan.]

26 ['Win up, win up, Lord John,' she said, 'Seek neither hose nor shoon; For I've heard a bairn loud greet, And a woman's heavy moan.']

27 [Lord John raise, put on his claise, Sought neither hose nor shoon, Atween the ha and the stable-door He made na a step but ane.]

28 'O open the door, Lady Margaret, O open and let me in; I want to see if my steed be fed, Or my grey-hounds fit to rin.'

29 'I'll na open the door, Lord John,' she said, 'I'll na open it to thee, Till ye grant to me my ae request, And a puir ane it's to me.

30 'Ye'll gie to me a bed in an outhouse, For my young son and me, And the meanest servant in a' the place, To wait on him and me.'

31 [He's tane the door wi his fit, And he keppd it wi his knee, He made the door o double deals In splinders soon to flee.]

32 ['An askin, an askin, grant me, Lord John, An askin ye'll grant me; The meanest maid about the place To bring a glass o water to me.']

33 'I grant, I grant, Lady Margret,' he said, 'A' that, and mair frae me, The very best bed in a' the place To your young son and thee, And my mither, and my sister dear, To wait on him and thee.

34 'And a' thae lands, and a' thae rents, They sall be his and thine; Our wedding and our kirking day, They sall be all in ane.'

35 And he has tane Lady Margaret, And rowd her in the silk, And he has tane his ain young son, And washd him in the milk.

D

Kinloch MSS, VII, 325.

* * * * * * *

24 Lord John rose, put on his clothes, Sought neither stockens nor shoon, An between the ha and the stable He made not a step but one.

25 'O open, open, to me, Burd Ellen, O open an let me in:' 'O yes, O yes, will I, Lord John, But not till I can win; O yes, will I, Lord John,' she says, 'But I'm lyin wi your young son.'

26 He's taen the door wi his foot, An he kepped it wi his knee; He made the door of double deals In splinders soon to flee.

27 'An askin ye'll grant me, Lord John, An askin ye'll grant me; May the meanest maid about the place Bring a glass o water to me?'

28 'O hold your tongue, Burd Ellen,' he said, 'Lat a' your askins be; For the best maid about the house Shall bring a glass o wine to thee.

29 'An the best bed about it a', For my young son an thee; My mother and my ae sister Sal bear you company.

30 'Your marriage an your kirkin day They sal be both in ane, An a' these ha's an bowers, Burd Ellen, They sal be yours an mine.'

E

Harris MS., No 8, fol. 12 b: originally from Jannie Scott, an old nurse in Perthshire, about 1790.

1 'I beg you bide at hame, Margaret, An sew your silken seam; If ye waur in the wide Hielands, Ye wald be owre far frae hame.'

2 'I winna bide at hame,' she said, 'Nor sew my silken seam; For if I waur in the wide Hielands, I wald no be owre far frae hame.'

3 'My steed sall drink the blude-red wine, An you the water wan; I'll mak you sigh, an say, alace, That ever I loed a man!'

4 'Though your steed does drink the blude-red wine, An me the water wan, Yet will I sing, an merry be, That ever I loed a man.'

5 'My hounds shall eat the bread o wheat, An you the bread o bran; I'll mak you sigh, an say, alace, That ever you loed Lord John!'

6 'Though your hounds do eat the bread o wheat, An me the bread o bran, Yet will I sing, an merrie be, That ever I loed Lord John.'

7 He turned aboot his high horse head, An awa he was boun to ride; She kilted up her green clieden, An after him she gaed.

8 Whan they cam to that water Whilk a' man ca the Clyde, He turned aboot his high horse head, Said, Ladie, will you ride?

9 'I learnt it in my mother's bour, I wish I had learnt it weel, That I could swim this wan water As weel as fish or eel.'

10 Whan at the middle o that water, She sat doon on a stone; He turned aboot his high horse head, Says, Ladie, will ye loup on?

11 'I learnt in my mother's bour, I wish I had learnt it better, That I culd swim this wan water As weel as eel or otter.'

12 He has taen the narrow ford, An she has taen the wide; Lang, lang ere he was at the middle, She was sittin at the ither side.

13 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Wi sighen said that Fair Margaret, Alace, I'm far frae hame!

14 'Hoo mony miles is't to your castle? Noo Lord John, tell to me;' 'Hoo mony miles is't to my castle? It's thirty miles an three:' Wi sighen said that Fair Margaret, It'll never be gane by me!

15 But up it spak the wily bird, As it sat on the tree, 'Rin on, rin on noo, Fair Margaret, It scarcely miles is three.'

16 Whan they cam to the wide Hielands, An lichted on the green, Every an spak Erse to anither, But Margaret she spak nane.

17 Whan they waur at table set, An birlin at the best, Margaret set at a bye-table, An fain she wald hain rest.

18 'Oh mither, mither, mak my bed Wi clean blankets an sheets, An lay my futeboy at my feet, The sounder I may sleep.'

19 She has made Lord John his bed, Wi clean blankets an sheets, An laid his futeboy at his feet, But neer a wink culd he sleep.

20 'Win up, win up noo, Fair Margaret, An see that my steed has meat; See that his corn is in his travisse, Nor lyin amang his feet.'

21 Slowly, slowly rase she up, An slowly put she on, An slowly gaed she doon the stair, Aye makin a heavy moan.

* * * * * * *

22 'An asken, an asken, gude Lord John, I pray you grant it me; For the warst bed in a' your hoose, To your young son an me.'

23 'Your asken is but sma, Margaret, Sune grantet it shall be; For the best bed in a' my hoose Is owre little for thee.'

24 'An asken, an asken, gude Lord John, I pray you grant it me; For the warst ale in a' your hoose, That ye wald gie to me.'

25 'Your asken is but sma, Margaret, Sune grantet it sall be; For the best wine in a' my hoose Is owre little for thee.

26 'But cheer up your heart noo, Fair Margaret, For, be it as it may, Your kirken an your fair weddin Sall baith be on one day.'

F

Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 114, from Mrs Arrot of Arberbrothick.

1 Lord Thomas stands in his stable-door, Seeing his steeds kaimd down; Lady Ellen sits at her bower-door, Sewing her silver seam.

2 'O will ye stay at hame, Ellen, And sew your silver seam? Or will ye to the rank highlands? For my lands lay far frae hame.'

3 'I winna stay at hame, Lord Thomas, And sew my silver seam; But I'll gae to the rank highlands, Tho your lands lay far frae hame.'

* * * * * * *

4 'An asking, an asking, Lord Thomas, I pray thee grant it me; How many miles into your fair tower, And house where you would be?'

5 'Your asking fair, Lady Ellen,' he says, 'Shall now be granted thee; For to my castle where it stands Is thirty miles and three:' 'O wae is me,' says Lady Ellen, 'It will never be run by me.'

6 But up and spak the wily pyot, That sat upon the tree: 'Sae loud, sae loud, ye fause, fause knight, Sae loud as I hear you lie!

7 'For to your dwelling-house,' it says, 'Of miles it's scantly three:' 'O weel is me,' says Lady Ellen; 'It shall be run by me.'

* * * * * * *

8 'O mither, mither, mak my bed, And mak it braid and wide, And lay my little page at my feet, Whatever may betide.'

* * * * * * *

9 'An asking, an asking, Lord Thomas, I pray thee grant it me; O grant me a cup of cold water, Between my young son and me.'

10 'What you do ask, Lady Ellen, Shall soon be granted thee; The best bread and the best wine, Between my young son and thee.'

11 'I ask again, my good Lord Thomas, I ask again of thee; The poorest cot-house in your land, Between my young son and me.'

12 'Your asking now, dear Lady Ellen, I quickly grant to thee; The best bower about my tower, Between my young son and thee.'

G

Buchan's MSS, II, 129.

1 The knight he stands in stable-door, Says he, I will go ride; The lady's kilted her gay cloathing, And ran low by his side.

2 He has ridden, and she has run, Till they came to yon water wan; He has ridden, and she has run, Like to his waiting man.

3 He has ridden, and she has run, Till they came on to Clyde; The knight he rode on high horseback, But the lady she bot wide.

4 The first step that the lady stepped, She stept into the knee; The bairn that was between her sides There he gied spartles three.

5 'Lie still, lie still, my bonny boy, Ye work your mother woe; Your father rides on high horseback, Cares little for us two.'

6 The nextand step that lady stepped. She stept into the pap; The bairn that was between her sides There spartled and he lap.

7 'Ly still, ly still, my bonny boy, You work your mother's woe; Your father rides on high horseback, Cares little for us two.'

8 In the middle of that water There stands a yird-fast stone; He turnd his horse head back again, Said, Lady, loup ye on.

9 She hadna ridden a mile, a mile, O never a mile but ane, Till she grew sick, and so weary She couldna ride nor gang.

10 'Ride on, ride on, my gay lady, You see not what I see; For yonder is my father's castle, A little beyond the lee, And ye'll get ane of my father's men. But, lady, neer lippen on me.'

11 There were four and twenty bonny ladies Led Willie frae bower to ha, But the bonniest lady among them a' Led his steed to the sta.

12 When they were at the table set, And sitting at their dine, Out it spake his mother dear. And she spake aye in time.

13 'Sometimes your boy's red, Willie, And other times he's wan; He looks like a woman wi bairn, But no ways like a man.'

14 'Win up, win up, my bonny boy, Go look your master's steed; See that his meat be at his head, And not among his feet.'

15 O healy, healy raise she up, And healy gaed she down, And healy opend the stable-door, And as healy gaed she in, And even among that big horse feet She bear her dear young son.

16 As Willie's mother was walking alone, Between the bower and ha, She thought she heard a bairn's greet And lady's moan in the sta.

17 'Gude make ye safe, my ae son Willie, Gude keep ye safe frae harm; Ye might hae chosen a lighter foot-boy Than a women in travilling.'

18 He hit the table wi his foot, He kept it wi his knee, Till silver cups and silver spoons Into the floor did flee.

19 There were fifteen steps into that stair, I wat he made them a' but three; He's to the stable gane in haste, And a' to see his gay lady.

20 'I am not come o sic low kin, Nor yet sic low degree, That you needed to banish me frae your sight, That ye left nae woman wi me.'

21 'I wish I'd drunken the wan water When I did drink the wine, Or when I left my lady gay, And her at sic a time.

22 'But up ye'll take my dear young son, And wash him wi the milk, And up ye'll take my lady gay And row her in the silk; For her kirking and her fair wedding Shall baith stand in ae day.'

H

Motherwell's MS., p. 277, from Marjory Johnston, servant to W. Parker, manufacturer, Paisley.

* * * * * * *

1 'Turn back, turn back, O Burd Alone, For the water's both broad and long:' First she went into the shoulders, And sine unto the chin.

2 'How far is it to your hall, Lord John? How far is it? I pray of thee:' 'The nearest way unto my hall Is thirty miles and three.

3 'Turn back, turn back, O Burd Alone, Ye'll sink before ye win owre:' 'I am too big with bairn,' she says, 'To sink or I win owre.'

4 'Turn back, turn back, O Burd Alone, Turn back, I pray of thee; For I've got a wife and seven bairns, I like far better than thee.'

5 And then spak a wild parrot, Sat high upon the tree: 'Gang on, gang on, O Burd Alone, [He likes nane better nor thee.]

6 'For Lord John has neither wife nor bairns, He likes better than thee, And the nearest way to Lord John's hall Is only short miles three.'

7 When she was come to Lord John's hall, Lords, knights and ladies braw Was there to welcome them hame; But the bravest in the ha, She waited at Lord John's back, Serving the tables a'.

8 When she was laid into her bed, Amang the servants a' ilk ane, The mother heard a babie greet, And a lady make a heavy maen.

9 'Rise up, rise up, Lord John,' she said, 'Bind on thy hose and shoon; Thow might hae got some other lady Than a lady big wi bairn.'

10 Lord John awa to the hay-loft, Where his lady lay; 'O rise, O rise, my love,' he says, 'O rise and let me in; It's I have got no loves without, But I've got one within.'

11 'I ask three favours of you, Lord John, I ask three favours of thee; I ask a bottle of your sma, sma beer, For your old son and me.'

12 'O rise, O rise, my love,' he says, 'O rise and let me in; My wine and gin is at your command, And that of my old son.'

13 'The next favour I ask of you, Lord John, The next favour I ask of thee, Is the meanest room in all your house, For your young son and me.

14 'The next favour I ask of you, Lord John, The next favour I ask of thee, Is the meanest maid in a' your house, To wait on your yong son and me.'

15 'O rise, O rise, my love,' he says, 'O rise and let me in; For thy bridal and thy banquet day Shall both be held in ane.'

I

Communicated by Dr Thomas Davidson, as learned from his aunt at Old Deer, about 185

1 Lord John stands in his stable-door, Just on his way to ride; Lady Ellen stands in her bower-door, Says, Bide, Lord John, abide!

* * * * * * *

2 He did ride, and she did run, A lief-lang simmer's day, Until they came till a wan water, That a' man did ca Tay.

3 The first step that she steppit in, She steppit tae the cweet; An sichan said that gay lady, I fear this water's deep!

4 The next step that she steppit in, She steppit tae the knee; An sichan said that gay lady, This water's deep for me!

5 Lord John hield down his high horse head, Said, Lady, will ye ride? 'O no! O no! kind sir,' she said, 'I'll rather choose tae wide.'

6 The next step that she steppit in, She steppit tae the chin; An sichan said that gay lady, I'll wide nae farrer in.

7 The firsten town that they cam till, She got a leash o huns tae lead, . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

* * * * * * *

8 When bells were rung, and mass was sung, An a' was ready tae dine, . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

9 When bells were rung, and mass was sung, An a' were bound for bed, . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

J

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 30.

1 The knight stands in his stable-door, Says he, I will gae ride; A lady stands in her bower-door, Says, I'll ride by your side.

2 'Ye shall not follow me, Burd Helen, Except ye do this deed; That is, to saddle to me my horse, And bridle to me my steed, And every town that ye come to, A liesh o hounds to lead.'

3 'I will saddle to you your horse, Sae will I bridle your steed; And every town that we come to, A liesh o hounds I'll lead.'

4 Take warning a', ye maidens fair, That wear scarlet and brown; In virtue leave your lammas beds, To follow knights frae town.

5 'My dogs shall eat the white bread, Helen, And you the dust and bran; And you will sigh, and say, alas! That eer our loves began.'

6 'Your dogs may eat the gude white bread, And I the dust and bran; Yet will I sing, and say, well's me, That eer our loves began.'

7 'My horse shall drink the gude red wine, And you the water wan; And then you'll sigh, and say, alas! That eer our loves began.'

8 'Your horse may drink the gude red wine, And I the water wan; But yet I'll sing, and say, well's me, That eer our loves began.'

9 Then Willie lap on his white steed, And straight awa did ride; Burd Helen, drest in men's array, She walked by his side.

10 But he was neer sae lack a knight As ance woud bid her ride, And she was neer sae mean a may As ance woud bid him bide.

11 Sweet Willie rade, Burd Helen ran, A livelang summer's tide, Until she came to wan water, For a' men ca's it Clyde.

12 The first an step that she wade in, She wadit to the knee; 'Ohon, alas!' said that fair maid, 'This water's nae for me!'

13 The next an step that she wade in, She wadit to the pap; The babe within her sides twa, Cauld water gart it quack.

14 'Lie still, lie still, my bonny bairn, For a' this winna dee; Your father rides on high horseback, Minds neither you nor me.'

15 In the midst of Clyde's water, There stands a yird-fast stone; There he leant him ower his saddle-bow, And set that lady on, And brought her to the other side, Then set her down again.

16 'O see ye not yon goodly towers, And gowd towers stand sae hie? There is a lady in yonder bower Will sinder you and me.'

17 'I wish nae ill to your lady, She neer wishd nane to me; But I wish the maid maist o your love That drees far mair for thee.

18 'I wish nae ill to your lady, She neer comes in my thought; But I wish the maid maist o your love That dearest hae you bought.'

19 Four an twenty gay ladies Led Willie thro bower and ha; But the fairest lady amo them a' Led his horse to the sta.

20 Four an twenty gay ladies Were a' at dinner set; Burd Helen sat at a by-table, A bit she coudna eat.

21 Out it spake her Dow Isbel, A skilly dame was she: 'O whare got ye this fine foot-page Ye've brought alang wi thee?

22 'Sometimes his colour waxes red, Sometimes it waxes wan; He is liker a woman big wi bairn Nor be a waiting man.'

23 'Win up, win up, my boy,' he says, 'At my bidding to be, And gang and supper my gude steed, See he be litterd tee.'

24 Then she is into stable gane, Shut tee the door wi a pin, And even amang Willie's horse feet Brought hame her bonny young son.

25 When day was gane, and night was come, And a' man bound for bed, Sweet Willie and Dow Isbel In ae chamber were laid.

26 They hadna been well lien down, Nor yet well faen asleep, Till up it wakens Sweet Willie, And stood at Dow Isbel's feet.

27 'I dreamd a dreary dream this night, I wish it may be for guid; Some rogue hae broke my stable-door, And stown awa my steed.

28 'Win up, win up now, Dow Isbel, At my bidding to be, And ye'll gae to my stable-door, See that be true or lie.'

29 When she gaed to the stable-door, She heard a grievous groan; She thought she heard a bairn greet, But and a woman's moan.

30 'When I was in my bigly bower, I wore but what I would; This night I'm lighter 'mang Willie's horse feet, I fear I'll die for cold.

31 'When I was in my bigly bower, I wore gold to my tae; This night I'm lighter mang Willie's horse feet, And fear I'll die or day.

32 'When I was in my bigly bower, I wore scarlet and green; This night I'm lighter mang Willie's horse feet, And fear I'll die my lane.'

33 Dow Isbel now came tripping hame, As fast as gang coud she; 'I thought your page was not a man, Ye brought alang wi thee.

34 'As I gaed to your stable, Willie, I heard a grievous groan; I thought I heard a bairn greet, But and a woman's moan.

35 'She said, when in her bigly bower, She wore but what she would; But this night is lighter mang your horse feet, And fears she'll die for cold.

36 'She said, when in her bigly bower, She wore gold to her tae; But this night is lighter mang your horse feet, And fears she'll die or day.

37 'Win up, win up, now Sweet Willie, At my bidding to be, And speak some comfort to the maid, That's dreed sae much for thee.'

38 He is to the stable door gane, As fast as gang coud he; 'O open, O open, Burd Helen,' he says, 'Ye'll open the door to me.'

39 'That was never my mother's custom, And hope it's never be mine, A knight into her companie, When she drees a' her pine.'

40 'O open the door, Burd Helen,' he says, 'O open the door to me; For as my sword hangs by my gair, I'll gar it gang in three.'

41 'How can I open, how shall I open, How can I open to thee, When lying amang your great steed's feet, Your young son on my knee?'

42 He hit the door then wi his foot, Sae did he wi his knee, Till doors o deal, and locks o steel, In splinders gart he flee.

43 'An asking, asking, Sweet Willie, An asking ye'll grant me; The warst in bower in a' your towers, For thy young son and me.'

44 'Your asking's nae sae great, Burd Helen, But granted it shall be; The best in bower in a' my towers, For my young son and thee.'

45 'An asking, asking, sweet Willie, An asking ye'll grant me; The warst an woman about your bowers, To wait on him and me.'

46 'The best an woman about my bowers, To wait on him and thee, And that's my sister Dow Isbel, And a gude woman is she.

47 'Ye will take up my little young son, And wash him wi the milk; And ye'll take up my gay lady, And row her in the silk.

48 'Be favourable to my lady, Be favourable, if ye may; Her kirking and her fair wedding Shall baith stand on ae day.

49 'There is not here a woman living But her shall be my bride, And all is for the fair speeches I got frae her at Clyde.'

* * * * *

#A.#

And throughout for &.

18^3, 19^3, 22^1, 23^1. four and twenty, MS. has 24.

26^6. [rich]. Percy.

27^2. they way.

28^1. goe thy.

28^3. ffarest.

28^5, 29^5. armes 2.

31^1. this and itt droue now. The emendation, made without confidence, assumes, as does that to 32^3, ~and~ to be used as in '~Sir Cawline~.'

32^3. did on.

#B. a.#

21^2. An a' man.

#b.#

1^1. I forbid you.

1^3. To leave your father's families.

1^4. And follow... frae the.

2^1. I am a gay ladie.

2^2. wear.

2^3. father's castle.

3^{1, 3} stands.

3^2. Says I am boon to ride.

3^4. Says I'll run by your side.

4^1. He has mounted on his berry brown steed.

4^3. She's clad her in a page's weed.

4^4. And ay as fast.

5^2. An folks.

5^3. He's lookd oer.

5^4. Says Ellen will you ride.

6^1. O I learnd it when I was a bairn.

7^1, 8^1, 9^1. that ladie.

7^2. It was aboon her knee.

7^3. Says Bird Ellen.

8^2. It was up till.

8^3. Ohon alas says Bird Ellen.

9^1. The thirden step.

9^2. touched her pap.

9^3. The bairn between her sides twa.

9^4. begood to.

10^2. You gie your mother pain.

10^4. And cares little for us twain.

11^1. O wanting. Clyde's.

11^2. There stands.

11^3. He has turnd about his berry brown steed.

11^4. And taen her up him behind.

12^4. Where this night you mean to be.

13^1. Do not ye see.

13^2. so far and hie.

13^3. ladie there, he says.

14. Altho there be a ladie there, Should sunder you and me, Betide my life, betide my death, I will go thither and see.

15^2, 16^2. brown.

15^3. Then you will.

15^4. That ever you lovd a man.

16^1. O 'tis I shall.

16^{3, 4}. But I neer shall live to cry alas, That ever I lovd a man.

17^{1, 2}. My horse shall eat the baken meat, And you shall eat the corn.

17^3. You then will.

18^1. O I shall eat the baken meat.

18^3. And I still shall bless.

20^4. her lane.

21^2. a' were.

22==#a# 23. ^3. O I can neither eat nor drink.

23==#a# 22. ^3. O I can neither eat nor drink.

24^{3, 4}. My son, where gat ye that foot-page You have brought hame to me?

25^1. cheeks look.

25^2. pale and wan.

25^3. He looks mair like a ladie wi bairn.

26. He has looked oer his left shoulder, And a loud laugh laughed he; Says, He's a squire's ae dear son, I got in the north countrie.

27^1. Win up, win up.

27^3. And so.

27^4. As fast as ever I may.

28^{2-4}. And the corn in her right hand, And she's hied her to the stable-door, As fast as she could gang.

29^2. Stand nearer to.

29^3. between my sides.

30^{1, 2}.

She has leand to the manger side And gien a grieveous groan.

30^4. brought home a son.

31==#a# 31, 32.

Then out it spake Lord John's mother, As she stood on the stair, 'I think I hear a woman groan, And a bairn greeting sair.'

32==#a# 33.

^1. O quickly, quickly raise he up.

^3. But hied him to the stable-door.

33, wanting in #a#.

'Now open the door, Bird Ellen,' he says, 'O open and let me in, Or baith the door and the door cheeks Into the floor I'll fling.'

34. He is struck the door wi his right foot And pushed it wi his knee, Till iron bolts and iron bars In flinders he has gard flee: 'Be not afraid, Bird Ellen,' he says, 'For there's nane win in but me.'

35, wanting in #a#.

The never a word spake that ladie, As on the floor she lay, But hushd her young son in her arms And turnd his face away.

36==#a# 35.

'Now up ye take my bonny young son And wash him wi the milk, And up ye take my fair ladie, And row her i the silk.'

#a# 36 is wanting in #b#.

37. 'And smile on me now, Bird Ellen, And cast awa your care, For I'll make you ladie of a' my lands, And your son shall be my heir.'

38. 'Blessd be the day,' sayd Bird Ellen, 'That I followd you frae the town, For I'd rather far be your foot-page Than the queen that wears the crown.'

#C.#

The stanzas bracketed are those which Kinloch interpolated in his later copy.

27, 31, 32, were derived from #D#.

22^1. In his later copy Kinloch has made the change, Win up, win up, my bonnie boy.

#E.#

20^4. Or lyin: see #G# 14.

#G.#

22^6. Aye.

#H.#

5^4. This line is included in () in the MS., and was probably supplied by Motherwell.

#I.#

3^3, 4^3, 6^3. sichan: MS. "sich an, perhaps sichin."

#J.#

4^3 seems to be a corruption of ~I forbid you leave your families~, or something of the kind: cf. #B a# 1^{1, 3}.

10^1. The knight seems to be ~lack~ (wanting) rather in ~not~ bidding, or letting, her ride; his lack is nothing but his leave; but as the idea may conceivably be that it would be unknightly to ride with a lady behind--all ballads to the contrary--no emendation has been attempted.

21^3. five foot page.

[82] Caution is imperative where so much ground is covered, and no man should be confident that he can do absolute justice to poetry in a tongue that he was not born to; but foreign poetry is as likely to be rated too high as to be undervalued. I will give Grundtvig's impression, at least as competent a judge of popular ballads as ever spoke: "Den Rigdom paa stemningsfuld Lyrik, som i det hele taget hjemler den engelsk-skotske Folkevise den højeste poetiske Rang mellem alle sine Søskende, kommer ogsaa her til Syne, fordelt paa alle Opskrifter." Danmarks gamle Folkeviser, V, 187.

[83] Except in Swedish #A#, where, apparently by a mixture of two stories, the issue is tragic.

64

FAIR JANET

#A.# 'Fair Janet,' Sharpe's Ballad Book, p. 1.

#B.# 'Fair Janet and Sweet William,' Motherwell's MS., p. 357.

#C.# 'Willie and Annet,' Herd's Scots Songs, 1769, p. 303.

#D.# 'Lord William,' Motherwell's MS., p. 271.

#E.# 'Willie and Janet,' Kinloch MSS, V, 283, II, 41.

#F.# 'Sweet Willie and Fair Maisry,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 97; Motherwell's MS., p. 606.

#G.# 'Sweet Willie,' Finlay's Scottish Ballads, II, 61.

#G#, as printed by Finlay, was made up from various fragments. Of his twenty-seven stanzas fourteen were taken from #C#, and these are now omitted. #A# 13, #D# 5, #G# 4, 5, #C# 19, are found also in some copies of 'Fair Annie of Lochroyan;' #C# 19 also in 'Sweet Willie and Fair Annie.' The very inappropriate question in #F# 4, "O will ye gang to the cards, Meggie," occurs in Jamieson's 'Clerk Saunders,' I, 84, st. 5. The inquiry in #G# 1, "Will you burn for Sweet Willie?" may probably have been suggested by the ballad of 'Lady Maisry.' We have the oath by the thorn, #G# 13, in 'Glasgerion.' For the conclusion of #A#, #E#, see No 7, I, 96 ff.

Fair Janet, #A#, #B#, #E# [Annet, Maisry], loving Sweet Willie, and on the point of becoming a mother by him, is destined by her father to marry a French lord, #A#; a Southland lord, #B#, #E#, #G#. She implores Willie to fly with her over sea, #B#, #C#; to good green wood, #F#. They set sail, but her condition obliges her to return, #B#; her time comes before they can get away, #C#. She bears a child.[84] To avoid discovery, the babe is taken to Willie's mother, who very readily assumes charge of it. Scarcely has the child been born, when Janet's father comes with orders to busk the bride, #A#, #B#, #C# (?), #E#, #F#. She begs to be tenderly handled, as not being in good plight. They attire her gayly, and she selects Willie to lead her horse, or ride before her on her horse, to church, #A#, #B#, #E#. Her cheek is pale, her color goes and comes; it is suspected, and even suggested, that she has borne a bairn, or is near to doing so, #A# 22, #C# 14, #D# 10, #E# 11, #F# 25. She seeks to clear herself by an ambiguous oath, #E# 12, #G# 26, 27; Willie does this for her, #G# 11. After dinner, or supper, #A#, #B#, dancing is in order. Janet makes excuses to her brothers, her father, the bridegroom's man, and declines very decidedly the bridegroom's own invitation, with marked asperity in #A#, #B#. But with Willie she will dance though her heart should break in three. She takes three turns, and falls down dead. Willie gives the key of his coffer to his man, and bids him tell his mother that his horse has slain him. He would not survive Janet in any pure and full form of the story, and does not in #A#, #C#, #E#.

'Sweet William,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 307, borrows some stanzas at the beginning from 'Fair Janet.'

There are points of resemblance between 'Fair Janet' and a ballad very popular in Scandinavia and in Germany, which demand notice, though they may not warrant the assumption of community of origin.

The Scandinavian ballad is: #Danish#, 'Kong Valdemar og hans Søster,' Grundtvig, No 126, III, 63 ff, 911 f, #A-I#; #G# from a sixteenth-century manuscript, #A-F# from seventeenth-century manuscripts or print, the two last from recent tradition. #Icelandic#, 'Soffíu kvæði,' Íslenzk Fornkvæði, No 52, II, 152, #A-F#, all of which, according to Grundtvig, must be put, at latest, in the seventeenth century, though some are first met with in the eighteenth. #Färoë#, a single copy, almost Danish, from the beginning of this century, printed by Grundtvig, III, 67 f. #Norwegian#, three copies from recent tradition, Grundtvig, III, 69, 913 f. #Swedish#, all from this century, 'Liten Kerstin och Fru Sofia,' Arwidsson, No 53, I, 335-51, #A-E#; #F#, #G#, in Cavallius and Stephens' collection, Grundtvig, III, 70; #H#, 'Liten Kerstin och drottning Sofia,' Wigström, Folkdiktning, I, 79.[85]

The #German# ballad is: #A.# 'Graf Hans von Holstein und seine Schwester Annchristine,' Müllenhoff, p. 492, No 48. #B.# 'Der grobe Bruder,' Wunderhorn, II, 272, 1808, Birlinger und Crecelius, II, 24. #C.# 'Der grausame Bruder,' Parisius, p. 38, No 12, A. #D.# 'Das Lied vom Pfalzgrafen,' Düntzer und Herder, Briefe Goethe's an Herder, I, 154. #E.# 'Der grausame Bruder,' Erk, Liederhort, p. 153, No 45. #F.# 'Christinchen,' Pröhle, p. 4, No 2. #G.# Wunderhorn, Birlinger und Crecelius, II, 247, No 4. #H.# Parisius, No 12, C. #I.# Reifferscheid, p. 107. #J.# 'Der böse Bruder,' Zuccalmaglio, p. 185, No 89. #K.# 'Der Pfalzgraf vom Rhein,' Wunderhorn, I, 259, 1806, Birlinger und Crecelius, II, 24. #L.# 'Der grausame Bruder,' Hoffmann und Richter, Schlesische Volkslieder, p. 49, No 27. #M.# Parisius, No 12, B. A version in broadside style, Erlach, II, 585, Doenniges, p. 217; compounded copies, Simrock, No 16, Scherer, Jungbrunnen, No 35, A.

According to the Scandinavian story, a king is informed by his queen, her inexorable enemy, that Kirstin, his sister, has just borne a child. The king sends for Kirstin, who is at some distance, to come to him immediately. She is obliged to make the journey on horseback. Upon her arrival the king puts her to a variety of tests, among these a long dance. Kirstin comes off so well that her brother says the queen has belied her. The queen then bares Kirstin's breast and makes milk flow from it. The king hereupon sends for heavy whips, and flogs his sister to the point of death. In the Icelandic and Färöe versions Kirstin dies of the dance, in her brother's arms. In the Swedish versions and in Danish #I# the king is Kirstin's father, not her brother. The Norwegian versions and Swedish #F#, #H# have a false conclusion: Kirstin survives, and is united to her lover. In Danish #A# the king had, before he learned the state of things, promised his sister to the son of the King of England, and in Danish #F#, #H#, #I#, Swedish #F#, and the Färöe ballad, Kirstin's lover is an English prince, who, in Danish #H#, comes to claim his mistress, and, finding her dead, kills the king. In Swedish #A# Kirstin dances with four, dances with five, dances with all the men of the court, and in Swedish #C#, #H# she tires out successively all the courtiers, the king, and the queen.

#A#, far the best preserved of the German versions, makes a hunter ask a count for his sister Annchristine. Being refused, as an unequal match, he tells the count that his sister, for all her nobility, has borne a child. The count maintains Annchristine to be a maid. The hunter says, Send for her, and see. The young lady is required to come on horseback. When her brother sees her approaching, with her long hair flowing, his confidence is strengthened. The hunter says, Make her dance. She dances seven hours, and her brother finds reason to continue of the same mind as before. The hunter says, Let us tighten her lacing, and, when that is done, milk springs from her breasts. Her brother gives her the choice between whipping and the sword. She chooses the former. He beats her till liver and lungs spring from her body. She then calls on him to stop; Prince Frederick of England is his brother-in-law. The count is much troubled, and promises everything if she will live. But Annchristine dies, and presently Prince Frederick appears. He has heard of what the count has done, cuts him to bits, and gives him to the crows.

In the other German versions the informant is generally of low rank, and sometimes professes to be father of the child. In #B#, #C#, #G#, #H#, #K# he is a kitchey-boy, a personage who plays no insignificant part in romantic story. The coming on horseback is wanting. The long dance is found in #B-F#. The father of the child is always the English King, who runs the brother through with his sword, #B#, #D#, #E#, #G#, #K#, #L#, or otherwise gives him his due.

The slight resemblance and the great difference of the Scottish story are apparent. Fair Janet has to go a certain distance on horseback, at a time when she is peculiarly ill fitted to do so, like the hapless Kirstin of the Scandinavian ballads and the German #A#, and she dies from dancing in her weak condition, as the lady does in the Icelandic and Färöe ballad. But both the ride and the dance are incidental to her forced marriage, and neither the ride nor the dance is employed as a test, as the dance always is in the other ballad, and as the ride is expressly devised to be in German #A# 6. The Scottish Janet is not constrained to dance, nor does she dance down all the men in the room. She declines every invitation except Willie's, and this, in some cases, she (very naturally and touchingly) encourages or incites; and her vital powers give way after three turns. All the unspeakably ferocious features of the Norse and German ballads are wanting, and the bound which divides the pathetic from the horrible is never passed.

A Breton ballad, 'Ar C'homt Gwillou,' 'Prinses ar Gwillou,' 'Le Comte Guillou,' 'La Princesse Le Guillou,' Luzel, II, 6-15, in three versions, has the probation by dancing. A count or prince, returning to his mistress after a considerable absence, happens to hear a shepherdess singing a song, of which he himself is unfortunately the subject. The lady has had a child. Fearing to encounter her injured lover, she tries to pass off a younger sister for herself, but, as may be imagined, this desperate artifice does not succeed. She is told what is said of her, and hopes she may melt like butter if ever she had daughter or son. The count calls out, Play up, musicians, that we may see how this damsel will step out. The young woman pleads that she is suffering from fever, and cannot dance just now, but the count strikes her on the breast so that milk spurts on her gown, #A#. He kills her.[86]

There is also a Magyar ballad, in which a jealous or offended lover makes his mistress dance till her boots are full of blood, as Kjersti's are in Norwegian #A#, #B#: 'Darvas Kis Clement,' Aigner, p. 110.

One or two correspondences with the Scandinavian-German ballad will require to be noted under 'Lady Maisry,' which immediately follows.

* * * * *

#A# is translated by Knortz, Schottische Balladen, No 7; #F# by Gerhard, p. 97; a combination of #A#, #C# and others by Grundtvig, No 39.

A

Sharpe's Ballad Book, p. 1, as sung by an old woman in Perthshire.

1 'Ye maun gang to your father, Janet, Ye maun gang to him soon; Ye maun gang to your father, Janet, In case that his days are dune.'

2 Janet's awa to her father, As fast as she could hie: 'O what's your will wi me, father? O what's your will wi me?'

3 'My will wi you, Fair Janet,' he said, 'It is both bed and board; Some say that ye loe Sweet Willie, But ye maun wed a French lord.'

4 'A French lord maun I wed, father? A French lord maun I wed? Then, by my sooth,' quo Fair Janet, 'He's neer enter my bed.'

5 Janet's awa to her chamber, As fast as she could go; Wha's the first ane that tapped there, But Sweet Willie her jo?

6 'O we maun part this love, Willie, That has been lang between; There's a French lord coming oer the sea, To wed me wi a ring; There's a French lord coming oer the sea, To wed and tak me hame.'

7 'If we maun part this love, Janet, It causeth mickle woe; If we maun part this love, Janet, It makes me into mourning go.'

8 'But ye maun gang to your three sisters. Meg, Marion, and Jean; Tell them to come to Fair Janet, In case that her days are dune.'

9 Willie's awa to his three sisters, Meg, Marion, and Jean: 'O haste, and gang to Fair Janet, I fear that her days are dune.'

10 Some drew to them their silken hose, Some drew to them their shoon, Some drew to them their silk manteils, Their coverings to put on, And they're awa to Fair Janet, By the hie light o the moon.

* * * * * * *

11 'O I have born this babe, Willie, Wi mickle toil and pain; Take hame, take hame, your babe, Willie, For nurse I dare be nane.'

12 He's tane his young son in his arms, And kisst him cheek and chin, And he's awa to his mother's bower, By the hie light o the moon.

13 'O open, open, mother,' he says, 'O open, and let me in; The rain rains on my yellow hair, And the dew drops oer my chin, And I hae my young son in my arms, I fear that his days are dune.'

14 With her fingers lang and sma She lifted up the pin, And with her arms lang and sma Received the baby in.

15 'Gae back, gae back now, Sweet Willie, And comfort your fair lady; For where ye had but ae nourice, Your young son shall hae three.'

16 Willie he was scarce awa, And the lady put to bed, Whan in and came her father dear: 'Make haste, and busk the bride.'

17 'There's a sair pain in my head, father, There's a sair pain in my side; And ill, O ill, am I, father, This day for to be a bride.'

18 'O ye maun busk this bonny bride, And put a gay mantle on; For she shall wed this auld French lord, Gin she should die the morn.'

19 Some put on the gay green robes, And some put on the brown; But Janet put on the scarlet robes, To shine foremost throw the town.

20 And some they mounted the black steed, And some mounted the brown; But Janet mounted the milk-white steed, To ride foremost throw the town.

21 'O wha will guide your horse, Janet? O wha will guide him best?' 'O wha but Willie, my true-love? He kens I loe him best.'

22 And when they cam to Marie's kirk, To tye the haly ban, Fair Janet's cheek looked pale and wan, And her colour gaed an cam.

23 When dinner it was past and done, And dancing to begin, 'O we'll go take the bride's maidens. And we'll go fill the ring.'

24 O ben than cam the auld French lord. Saying, Bride, will ye dance with me? 'Awa, awa, ye auld French lord, Your face I downa see.'

25 O ben than cam now Sweet Willie, He cam with ane advance: 'O I'll go tak the bride's maidens, And we'll go tak a dance.'

26 'I've seen ither days wi you, Willie, And so has mony mae, Ye would hae danced wi me mysel, Let a' my maidens gae.'

27 O ben than cam now Sweet Willie, Saying, Bride, will ye dance wi me? 'Aye, by my sooth, and that I will, Gin my back should break in three.'

28 She had nae turned her throw the dance, Throw the dance but thrice, Whan she fell doun at Willie's feet, And up did never rise.

29 Willie's taen the key of his coffer, And gien it to his man: 'Gae hame, and tell my mother dear My horse he has me slain; Bid her be kind to my young son, For father he has nane.'

30 The tane was buried in Marie's kirk, And the tither in Marie's quire; Out of the tane there grew a birk, And the tither a bonny brier.

B

Motherwell's MS., p. 357, from the recitation of Agnes Lyle, Kilbarchan.

1 'If you do love me weel, Willie, Ye'll shew to me truelie; Ye'll build to me a bonnie ship, And set her on the sea.'

2 He did love her very weel, He shewed to her trulie; He builded her a bonnie ship, And set her on the sea.

3 They had not sailed one league, one league, One league but only three, Till sharp, sharp showers fair Janet took, She grew sick and like to die.

4 'If you do love me weel, Willie, Ye'll shew to me trulye; Ye'll tak me to my mother's bower, Whare I was wont to be.'

5 He did love her very weel, He shewed to her trulye; He took her to her mother's bower, Whare she was wont to be.

6 'It's ye'll stand up at my richt side, You will on tiptaes stand, Until you hear your auld son weep, But an your Janet mourn.

7 'Come take your auld son in your arms, He is both large and lang; Come take your auld son in your arms, And for a nourice gang.'

8 He is to his mother's bowers, An hour or it struck nine: 'I have a babe into my arms, He'll die for nouricing.'

9 'Goe home, go home, my son,' she says, 'And mak thy Jenny blythe; If ae nurse winna sere her son, It's I'll provide him five.'

10 Fair Janet was nae weel lichter, Nor weel doun on her side, Till ben and cam her father dear, Saying, Wha will busk our bride?

11 Ben and cam her brethren dear, Saying, Wha will busk our bride? And wha will saddle our bride's horse? Whom ahint will she ride?

12 'Hold your tongue, my brethren dear, And let your folly be, For I'm sae fair and full of hair Sma busking will serve me.

13 'Hold your tongue, my brethren dear, And let your folly be, For I will ride behint William, He will best wait on me.

14 'Willie, lay the saddle saft, And lead the bridle soun, And when we come to Mary's Kirk, Ye'll set me hooly down.'

15 Supper scarslie was owre, Nor musick weel fa'n to, Till ben and cam the bride's brethren, Saying, Bride, ye'll dance wi me: 'Awa, awa, my brethren dear, For dancing's no for me.'

16 Ben and came her ain bridegroom, Saying, Bride, ye'll dance wi me; She says, Awa, awa, ye southland dog, Your face I downa see.

17 Ben and cam then Sweet Willie, Saying, Bride, ye'll dance wi me: 'Oh I will dance the floor once owre, Tho my heart should break in three.'

18 'Oh no, oh no,' said Sweet William, 'Let no such things eer be; But I will cut my glove in two, And I'll dance for thee and me.'

19 She hadna danced the floor once owre, I'm sure she hadna thrice, Till she fell in a deadly swound, And from it neer did rise.

20 Out and spak her ain bridegroom, And an angry man was he: 'This day she has gien me the geeks, Yet she must bear the scorn; There's not a bell in merry Linkum Shall ring for her the morn.'

21 Out and spoke then Sweet William, And a sorry man was he: 'Altho she has gien you the gecks, She will not bear the scorn; There's not a bell in merry Linkum But shall ring for her the morn.'

22 There was not a bell in merry Linkum But they tinkled and they rang, And a' the birds that flew above, They changed their notes and sang.

C

Herd's Scots Songs, 1769, p. 303: I, 162, ed. 1776.

1 Livd ance twa luvers in yon dale, And they luvd ither weel; Frae evning late to morning aire Of luving luvd their fill.

2 'Now, Willie, gif you luve me weel, As sae it seems to me, Gar build, gar build a bonny schip, Gar build it speedilie.

3 'And we will sail the sea sae green, Unto some far countrie, Or we'll sail to some bonie isle, Stands lanely midst the sea.'

4 But lang or ere the schip was built, Or deckd, or rigged out, Came sick a pain in Annet's back That down she coud na lout.

5 'Now, Willie, gif ye luve me weel, As sae it seems to me, O haste, haste, bring me to my bowr, And my bowr-maidens three.'

6 He's taen her in his arms twa, And kissd her, cheik and chin; He's brocht her to her ain sweet bowr, But nae bowr-maid was in.

7 'Now leave my bower, Willie,' she said, 'Now leave me to my lane; Was nevir man in a lady's bower When she was travelling.'

8 He's stepped three steps down the stair, Upon the marble stane; Sae loud's he heard his young son's greet, But and his lady's mane!

9 'Now come, now come, Willie,' she said, 'Tak your young son frae me, And hie him to your mother's bower, With speed and privacie.'

10 He's taen his young son in his arms, He's kissd him, cheik and chin; He's hied him to his mother's bower, By th' ae light of the moon.

11 And with him came the bold barone, And he spake up wi pride: 'Gar seek, gar seek the bower-maidens, Gar busk, gar busk the bryde.'

12 'My maidens, easy with my back, And easy with my side; O set my saddle saft, Willie, I am a tender bryde.'

13 When she came to the burrow-town, They gied her a broch and ring, And when she came to..., They had a fair wedding.

14 O up then spake the norland lord, And blinkit wi his ee: 'I trow this lady's born a bairn,' Then laucht loud lauchters three.

15 And up then spake the brisk bridegroom, And he spake up wi pryde: 'Gin I should pawn my wedding-gloves, I will dance wi the bryde.'

16 'Now had your tongue, my lord,' she said, 'Wi dancing let me be; I am sae thin in flesh and blude, Sma dancing will serve me.'

17 But she's taen Willie be the hand, The tear blinded her ee: 'But I wad dance wi my true-luve, But bursts my heart in three.'

18 She's taen her bracelet frae her arm, Her garter frae her knee: 'Gie that, gie that to my young son, He'll neer his mother see.'

* * * * * * *

19 'Gar deal, gar deal the bread, mother, Gar deal, gar deal the wyne; This day hath seen my true-love's death, This nicht shall witness myne.'

D

Motherwell's MS., p. 271, "from Margery Johnston, who had it of her grand-aunt, a very old woman."

* * * * * * *

1 'It never was my mother's fashion, As little will 't be mine, For to hae gay lords within my room When ladies are travailing.'

2 Lord William was scarsely down the stair, A step but only ane, Till he heard his auld son gie a cry, And his lady a heavy maen.

3 'Turn back, turn back, Lord William,' she says, 'Take thy auld son in thy coat-neuk, And see and reach thy mother's bowers Twa hours before day comes.'

4 He's awa wi his auld son in his coat-neuk, As fast as he can run, And there he's reached his mother's bowers, Twa hours before day came.

5 'O rise, O rise, my mother dear, O rise and let me in, For I've my auld son in my coat-neuk, And he shivers at the chin.'

6 'Ye're welcome hame to me, Lord William, And so is thy auld son; It's where ye had but ae nourice, Thy auld son he'll hae four.'

7 His lady was scarsely in her bed, Nor well faln owre asleep, When four and twenty knights and lords Came for the bride at last.

8 They dressed her up, they dressed her down, They dressed her wondrous fine, And just before her ain bedside She lost her colour clean.

9 'Be hooly wi my head, maidens, Be hooly wi my hair, For it was washen late last night, And now it's very sair.'

10 Out then spoke a southern lord, And oh but he spak bauld: 'She is the likest that bore a child That eer my eyes did see.'

11 Up then spak her auld, auld father, And oh he spoke in time: 'She neer bore a child since her birth Except it was yestreen.'

12 Out then spoke a northern lord: 'It's bride, will ye dance wi me?' 'Oh no, oh no, you northland lord, It's dancing's no for me.'

13 Out then spoke a southland lord: 'It's bride, will ye dance wi me?' 'Oh no, oh no, you southland lord, I would as lief chuse to die.'

14 Out then spoke her ain bridegroom: 'O bride, will ye dance wi me?' 'Oh no, oh no, my ain bridegroom, It's dancing's no for me.'

15 Out then spoke her ain Willy, And oh he spoke fu fine: 'O bride, O bride, will ye dance wi me,' . . . . . . .

16 'Oh yes, oh yes, Willie,' she said, 'It's I will dance with thee; Oh yes, I'll dance, dear Willie,' she said, 'Tho my back it gaes in three.'

17 She leaned her head on Willie's breast, And her back unto the wa: 'O there's the key of my coffer, And pay weel the nouriss fee, And aye when ye look on your auld son, Ye may aye think on me.'

E

Kinloch MSS, V, 283, II, 41, from Mary Barr, Clydesdale.

1 Willie and Fair Janet Sat a' day on yon hill; And Janet she took sair pains, And O but she grew ill.

2 'Fetch a woman to me, Willie, O fetch a woman to me, For without the help of woman, Willie, Surely I will dee.'

3 'O tie a napkin on my face, That naething I may see, And what can a woman do, Janet, But I will do for thee?'

* * * * * * *

4 She was na scarcely brought to bed, Nor yet laid on her side, Till in and cam her father there, Crying, Fy, gae busk the bride.

5 'A wearyed bride am I, father, A wearyed bride am I; Must I gae wed that southlan lord, And let Sweet Willie abe?'

* * * * * * *

6 'Now chuse, now chuse now, Fair Janet, What shall your cleeding be; Now chuse, now chuse now, Fair Janet, And I will gie it to thee.

7 'Whether will you hae it of the berry brown, Or of the holland green; Or will you hae it of the crimson red, Most lovely to be seen?'

8 'I will not hae't of the berry brown, Nor yet o the holly green; But I will hae't of the crimson red, Most lovely to be seen.'

9 'Now chuse, now chuse now, Fair Janet, What man you'll ride behind:' 'O wha sae fitting as Sweet Willie? He'll fit my saddle fine.'

10 O they rode on, and they rode on, Till they cam to Merrytown green; But Sweet Willie and Fair Janet Cam aye hoolie ahin.

11 O whan they cam to Merrytown, And lighted on the green, Monie a bluidy aith was sworn That our bride was wi bairn.

12 Out and spake the bonny bride, And she swore by her fingers ten: 'If eer I was wi bairn in my life, I was lighter sin yestreen.'

13 Up and raise he the bridegroom, Says, Bride, will ye dance wi me? 'Dance on, dance on, bridegroom,' she says, 'For I'll dance nane wi thee.'

14 Up and raise her father then, Says, Bride, will ye dance wi me? 'Dance on, my father,' she replied, 'I pray thee let me be.'

15 Then up and raise he Sweet Willie, And he had meikle pride: 'I'll lay my gloves in the bride's han, And I'll dance for the bride.'

16 'O no, O no, O Sweet Willie, O no, that shall na be; For I will dance wi thee, Willie, Tho my back should fa in three.'

17 She had na run a reel, a reel, A reel but barely three, Till pale and wan grew Fair Janet, And her head took Willie's knee.

18 Out and spake then the bridegroom, And he spake wi great scorn: 'There's not a bell in Merrytown kirk Shall ring for her the morn.'

19 Out and spak he Sweet Willie, And his heart was almost gane: ''Tis a the bells in Merrytown kirk Shall ring for her the morn.'

20 Willie was buried in Mary's kirk, etc., etc., etc.

F

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 97; Motherwell's MS., p. 606.

1 Hey, love Willie, and how, love Willie, And Willie my love shall be; They're thinking to sinder our lang love, Willie; It's mair than man can dee.

2 'Ye'll mount me quickly on a steed, A milk-white steed or gray, And carry me on to gude greenwood, Before that it be day.'

3 He mounted her upon a steed, He chose a steed o gray; He had her on to gude greenwood, Before that it was day.

4 'O will ye gang to the cards, Meggie? Or will ye gang wi me? Or will ye hae a bower-woman, To stay ere it be day?'

5 'I winna gang to the cards,' she said, 'Nor will I gae wi thee, Nor will I hae a bower-woman, To spoil my modestie.

6 'Ye'll gie me a lady at my back, An a lady me beforn, An a midwife at my twa sides, Till your young son be born.

7 'Ye'll do me up, and further up, To the top o yon greenwood tree; For every pain myself shall hae, The same pain ye maun drie.'

8 The first pain that did strike Sweet Willie, It was into the side; Then sighing sair said Sweet Willie, These pains are ill to bide!

9 The nextan pain that strake Sweet Willie, It was into the back; Then sighing sair said Sweet Willie, These pains are women's wreck!

10 The nextan pain that strake Sweet Willie, It was into the head; Then sighing sair said Sweet Willie, I fear my lady's dead!

11 Then he's gane on, and further on, At the foot o yon greenwood tree; There he got his lady lighter, Wi his young son on her knee.

12 Then he's taen up his little young son, And kissd him, cheek and chin, And he is on to his mother, As fast as he could gang.

13 'Ye will take in my son, mother, Gie him to nurses nine; Three to wauk, and three to sleep, And three to gang between.'

14 Then he has left his mother's house, And frae her he has gane, And he is back to his lady, And safely brought her hame.

15 Then in it came her father dear, Was belted in a brand: 'It's nae time for brides to lye in bed, When the bridegroom 's send 's in town.

16 'There are four-and-twenty noble lords A' lighted on the green; The fairest knight amang them a', He must be your bridegroom.'

17 'O wha will shoe my foot, my foot? And wha will glove my hand? And wha will prin my sma middle, Wi the short prin and the lang?'

18 Now out it speaks him Sweet Willie, Who knew her troubles best: 'It is my duty for to serve, As I'm come here as guest.

19 'Now I will shoe your foot, Maisry, And I will glove your hand, And I will prin your sma middle, Wi the sma prin and the lang.'

20 'Wha will saddle my steed,' she says, 'And gar my bridle ring? And wha will hae me to gude church-door, This day I'm ill abound?'

21 'I will saddle your steed, Maisry, And gar your bridle ring, And I'll hae you to gude church-door, And safely set you down.'

22 'O healy, healy take me up, And healy set me down, And set my back until a wa, My foot to yird-fast stane.'

23 He healy took her frae her horse, And healy set her down, And set her back until a wa, Her foot to yird-fast stane.

24 When they had eaten and well drunken, And a' had thornd fine, The bride's father he took the cup, For to serve out the wine.

25 Out it speaks the bridegroom's brother, An ill death mat he die! 'I fear our bride she's born a bairn, Or else has it a dee.'

26 She's taen out a Bible braid, And deeply has she sworn; 'If I hae born a bairn,' she says, 'Sin yesterday at morn,

27 'Or if I've born a bairn,' she says, 'Sin yesterday at noon, There's nae a lady amang you a' That woud been here sae soon.'

28 Then out it spake the bridegroom's man, Mischance come ower his heel! 'Win up, win up, now bride,' he says, 'And dance a shamefu reel.'

29 Then out it speaks the bride hersell, And a sorry heart had she: 'Is there nae ane amang you a' Will dance this dance for me?'

30 Then out it speaks him Sweet Willie, And he spake aye thro pride: 'O draw my boots for me, bridegroom, Or I dance for your bride.'

31 Then out it spake the bride hersell: O na, this maunna be; For I will dance this dance mysell, Tho my back shoud gang in three.

32 She hadna well gane thro the reel, Nor yet well on the green, Till she fell down at Willie's feet As cauld as ony stane.

33 He's taen her in his arms twa, And haed her up the stair; Then up it came her jolly bridegroom, Says, What's your business there?

34 Then Willie lifted up his foot, And dang him down the stair, And brake three ribs o the bridegroom's side, And a word he spake nae mair.

35 Nae meen was made for that lady, When she was lying dead; But a' was for him Sweet Willie, On the fields for he ran mad.

G

Finlay's Scottish Ballads, II, 61.

1 'Will you marry the southland lord, A queen of fair England to be? Or will you burn for Sweet Willie, The morn upon yon lea?'

2 'I will marry the southland lord, Father, sen it is your will; But I'd rather it were my burial-day, For my grave I'm going till.

3 'O go, O go now, my bower-wife, O go now hastilie, O go now to Sweet Willie's bower, And bid him cum speak to me.'

* * * * * * *

4 And he is to his mother's bower, As fast as he could rin: 'Open, open, my mother dear, Open, and let me in.

5 'For the rain rains on my yellow hair, The dew stands on my chin, And I have something in my lap, And I wad fain be in.'

6 'O go, O go now, Sweet Willie, And make your lady blithe, For wherever you had ae nourice, Your young son shall hae five.'

7 Out spak Annet's mother dear, An she spak a word o' pride; Says, Whare is a' our bride's maidens, They're no busking the bride?

8 'O haud your tongue, my mother dear, Your speaking let it be, For I'm sae fair and full o flesh Little busking will serve me.'

9 Out an spak the bride's maidens, They spak a word o pride; Says, Whare is a' the fine cleiding? It's we maun busk the bride.

10 'Deal hooly wi my head, maidens, Deal hooly wi my hair; For it was washen late yestreen, And it is wonder sair.'

* * * * * * *

11 And Willie swore a great, great oath, And he swore by the thorn, That she was as free o a child that night As the night that she was born.

12 'Ye hae gien me the gowk, Annet, But I'll gie you the scorn; For there's no a bell in a' the town Shall ring for you the morn.'

13 Out and spak then Sweet Willie: Sae loud's I hear you lie! There's no a bell in a' the town But shall ring for Annet and me.

* * * * * * *

* * * * *

#E.#

The copy in Kinloch MSS, II, 41, has been revised by Mr Kinloch. His more important changes are as follows:

1^1. Sweet Willie.

1^3. took in labor-pains.

2^1. Gae fetch.

2^3. For but.

2^4. It's surely.

3^3. And what a woman can do, Janet.

3^4. That I.

4^4. Says, Fy.

6^{1, 3}. now chuse thee, Fair Janet.

7^2, 8^2. hollin.

10^2, 11^1, 18^3, 19^3. Marytoun.

10^4. Cam riding.

12^1. Then out.

14^4. ye let me abee.

18^1. the bridegroom then.

19^1. But out.

19^2. His heart.

20. Fair Janet was buried in Mary's kirk, Sweet Willie in Mary's quier, And out o the tane there sprang a rose, Out o the tither a brier.

21. And aye they grew, and aye they threw, Till thae twa they did meet, That ilka ane might plainly see They war twa lovers sweet.

#G.#

1^3. Var. mourn for. _11, in Finlay, follows 13. Fourteen stanzas, taken from #C#, have been omitted._

[84] She bids Willie leave her bower while she is in travail, #C# 7; in default of bower-woman, Willie offers to bandage his eyes and do a woman's part, #E# 3, after which a stanza is doubtless lost, in which man's aid would be rejected: cf. No 15, I, 182. #F# has a strange passage, 6-10 (belonging, perhaps, to 'Leesome Brand'), in which the lady, after asking that she may have the attendance of three women, selects the top of a tree for her labor, and informs Willie that he will have to drie every pain that she herself has, which experience duly follows.

[85] Danish #E# is translated by Prior, II, 99.

[86] La Fidanzata Infedele, Nigra, Rivista Contemporanea, XXXI, 21, and 'L'adultera,' Ferraro, Canti p. monferrini, p. 5, are the same ballad as the Breton, but the dance is not proposed in these.

65

LADY MAISRY

#A.# 'Lady Maisry,' Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 24; Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 73.

#B.# Motherwell's MS., p. 422, communicated by Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe.

#C.# 'Janet,' Motherwell's MS., p. 472.

#D.# 'Lady Margery,' Campbell MSS, II, 70.

#E.# 'Lady Marjory,' Motherwell's MS., p. 1; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 234.

#F.# The Scots [Edinburgh] Magazine, 1822, LXXXIX 734.

#G.# Notes and Queries, Second Series, IX, 193.

#H.# 'Young Prince James,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 103.

#I. a.# 'Bonnie Susie Cleland,' Motherwell's MS., p. 235, Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 221. #b.# 'Susie Cleland,' Motherwell's MS., p. 179. #c.# 'Susie Cleland,' Motherwell's MS., p. 181.

#A# was No 12 in William Tytler's Brown manuscript, and stanzas 1, 21, 22, of that copy are cited by Anderson in his letter to Percy, Nichols's Illustrations, VII, 177. Jamieson, who made a few changes in printing from his manuscript, attributes, by an oversight, the ballad to Mrs Arrot: compare Popular Ballads, I, pp 66 and 59. His copy is repeated by Motherwell, p. 71. #C#, of which no account is given by Motherwell, is hardly more than a variety of #B#. There is a copy in the Abbotsford manuscript, "Scottish Songs," which is more considerably tampered with, in the way of change, omission, and insertion.[87]

All the versions are in accord as to the material points of the story. Lady Maisry rejects the suit of all the lords in the north country, #A#; she has given her love to an English lord. Her lover's seat is Strawberry Castle, #D#, #E#, #F#; Adam's Tower, #H#; he lives at London, #G#. Maisry has been at Strawberry Castle for a time, and has there learned some unco lair, #D#, #E#.[88] It is discovered that Maisry goes with bairn. Her brother, #A#, #H#, father, #I#, informed to this effect, requires her to renounce her English lord, but she refuses; her father offers her the choice of marrying an auld man or burning, #D#. In the other versions the family set about preparations for burning her without attempting any arrangement. Maisry, warned of her approaching fate, calls for a boy to carry word to England, and a light-footed and heartily devoted young messenger takes her errand. The English lord asks if his biggins are broken, his towers won, or is his lady lighter, and is told that his lady is to be burnt for him that very day. Horses are instantly saddled: a black, a brown, are foundered, a milk-white [a dapple-gray], fair fall the mare that foaled that foal! holds out, #B#, #C#, #E#, #F#. In #D# fifteen stout steeds are burst, yet the little foot-page runs aye before, crying, Mend your pace an you may! Maisry, in the flames, hears her lover's horn, hears his bridle ring, #A#, #E#, #F#, #H#. "Beet on!" she cries; "I value you not one straw. Mend up the fire, brother; I see him coming that will soon mend it up to thee."[89] In #A#, #H# she cries out, when her lover appears, that if her hands had been free she would have cast out his young son. He leaps into the fire for a last kiss; her body falls apart, #B-G#. He threatens an awful retaliation: he will burn father and mother, and the chief of all her kin (who, no doubt, had been concerned in this auto da fé). Vengeance glutted, he will throw himself into the flames, #A#, #F#; he will take the pilgrim's cloak and staff, #C#. The foot-page shall be heir of his land, #C#; he will remember the bonny boy that ran the errand, #E#.[90]

Maisry, Margery, is the heroine's name in #A#, #D-H#, #J#; Janet in #B#, #C#; Susie Cleland in #I#. The hero has a name only in #A#, Lord William, and in #H#, Prince James.

'Lady Maisry' has a limited, and perhaps quite accidental, resemblance to the Scandinavian-German ballad spoken of in the preface to 'Fair Janet.' The lapse of the heroine is visited with a fearful death at the hand of brother or father, and the lover who was partner to her trespass appears on the scene immediately after, and takes his revenge. A kitchey-boy is informant in #A#, as in some versions of the German story.

The regular penalty for incontinence in an unmarried woman, if we are to trust the authority of romances, is burning. This, according to the well-known passage in Ariosto, Orlando Furioso, IV, 58, 59, was l'aspra legge di Scozia, empia e severa, though it might be as difficult to point out a law to that effect in any European code as a corresponding patria potestas.[91] Some ballad cases are: Scandinavian (Danish, Swedish, Norwegian, Icelandic), 'Ildpröven' and 'Møen paa Baalet,' Grundtvig, Nos 108, 109, II, 577-590, III, 904 f, Eva Wigström, Folkdiktning, I, 30, No 13; Spanish and Portuguese, 'De la infanta y don Galvan,' Wolf and Hofmann, Primavera, No 159, II, 92; 'Conde Claros de Montalvan,' Primavera, No 191, II, 374; 'La infanta seducida,' Milá, Romancerillo Catalan, No 258, #A-M#, pp 249-54; 'L'infanta,' Briz, IV, 39; 'Dom Carlos de Montealbar,' etc., Braga, Romanceiro, p. 79 ff, Nos 31, 32, 33, Cantos pop. do Archipelago Açoriano, p. 246, No 25, Almeida-Garrett, II, 203; 'Dona Ausenda,' Almeida-Garrett, II, 177, 'Dona Aldonça,' Estacio da Veiga, p. 75; Hardung, Romanceiro Portuguez, I, 180-204. To these add the prose Merlin, ed. Wheatley, I, 16; L'Histoire plaisante du noble Siperis de Vinevaulx, etc., cited by Liebrecht, Dunlop, p. 467, note 117.[92]

* * * * *

#A# is translated, after Jamieson, I, 73, by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 38; #I, a#, the same, p. 322.

A

Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 24.

1 The young lords o the north country Have all a wooing gone, To win the love of Lady Maisry, But o them she woud hae none.

2 O they hae courted Lady Maisry Wi a' kin kind of things; An they hae sought her Lady Maisry Wi brotches an wi' rings.

3 An they ha sought her Lady Maisry Frae father and frae mother; An they ha sought her Lady Maisry Frae sister an frae brother.

4 An they ha followd her Lady Maisry Thro chamber an thro ha; But a' that they coud say to her, Her answer still was Na.

5 'O had your tongues, young men,' she says, 'An think nae mair o me; For I've gien my love to an English lord, An think nae mair o me.'

6 Her father's kitchy-boy heard that, An ill death may he dee! An he is on to her brother, As fast as gang coud he.

7 'O is my father an my mother well, But an my brothers three? Gin my sister Lady Maisry be well, There's naething can ail me.'

8 'Your father and your mother is well, But an your brothers three; Your sister Lady Maisry's well, So big wi bairn gangs she.'

9 'Gin this be true you tell to me, My mailison light on thee! But gin it be a lie you tell, You sal be hangit hie.'

10 He's done him to his sister's bowr, Wi meikle doole an care; An there he saw her Lady Maisry, Kembing her yallow hair.

11 'O wha is aught that bairn,' he says, 'That ye sae big are wi? And gin ye winna own the truth, This moment ye sall dee.'

12 She turnd her right an roun about, An the kem fell frae her han; A trembling seizd her fair body, An her rosy cheek grew wan.

13 'O pardon me, my brother dear, An the truth I'll tell to thee; My bairn it is to Lord William, An he is betrothd to me.'

14 'O coud na ye gotten dukes, or lords, Intill your ain country, That ye draw up wi an English dog, To bring this shame on me?

15 'But ye maun gi up the English lord, Whan youre young babe is born; For, gin you keep by him an hour langer, Your life sall be forlorn.'

16 'I will gi up this English blood, Till my young babe be born; But the never a day nor hour langer, Tho my life should be forlorn.'

17 'O whare is a' my merry young men, Whom I gi meat and fee, To pu the thistle and the thorn, To burn this wile whore wi?'

18 'O whare will I get a bonny boy, To help me in my need, To rin wi hast to Lord William, And bid him come wi speed?'

19 O out it spake a bonny boy, Stood by her brother's side: 'O I would rin your errand, lady, Oer a' the world wide.

20 'Aft have I run your errands, lady, Whan blawn baith win and weet; But now I'll rin your errand, lady, Wi sat tears on my cheek.'

21 O whan he came to broken briggs, He bent his bow and swam, An whan he came to the green grass growin, He slackd his shoone and ran.

22 O whan he came to Lord William's gates, He baed na to chap or ca, But set his bent bow till his breast, An lightly lap the wa; An, or the porter was at the gate, The boy was i the ha.

23 'O is my biggins broken, boy? Or is my towers won? Or is my lady lighter yet, Of a dear daughter or son?'

24 'Your biggin is na broken, sir, Nor is your towers won; But the fairest lady in a' the lan For you this day maun burn.'

25 'O saddle me the black, the black, Or saddle me the brown; O saddle me the swiftest steed That ever rade frae a town.'

26 Or he was near a mile awa, She heard his wild horse sneeze: 'Mend up the fire, my false brother, It's na come to my knees.'

27 O whan he lighted at the gate, She heard his bridle ring: 'Mend up the fire, my false brother, It's far yet frae my chin.

28 'Mend up the fire to me, brother, Mend up the fire to me; For I see him comin hard an fast Will soon men 't up to thee.

29 'O gin my hands had been loose, Willy, Sae hard as they are boun, I would have turnd me frae the gleed, And castin out your young son.'

30 'O I'll gar burn for you, Maisry, Your father an your mother; An I'll gar burn for you, Maisry, Your sister an your brother.

31 'An I'll gar burn for you, Maisry, The chief of a' your kin; An the last bonfire that I come to, Mysel I will cast in.'

B

Motherwell's MS., p. 422, communicated by Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe.

1 In came her sister, Stepping on the floor; Says, It's telling me, my sister Janet, That you're become a whore.

2 'A whore, sister, a whore, sister? That's what I'll never be; I'm no so great a whore, sister, As liars does on me lee.'

3 In came her brother, Stepping on the floor; Says, It's telling me, my sister Janet, That you're become a whore.'

4 'A whore, brother, a whore, brother? A whore I'll never be; I'm no so bad a woman, brother, As liars does on me lee.'

5 In came her mother, Stepping on the floor: 'They are telling me, my daughter, That you're so soon become a whore.'

6 'A whore, mother, a whore, mother? A whore I'll never be; I'm only with child to an English lord, Who promised to marry me.'

7 In came her father, Stepping on the floor; Says, They tell me, my daughter Janet, That you are become a whore.'

8 'A whore, father, a whore, father? A whore I'll never be; I'm but with child to an English lord, Who promisd to marry me.'

9 Then in it came an old woman, The lady's nurse was she, And ere she could get out a word The tear blinded her ee.

10 'Your father's to the fire, Janet, Your brother's to the whin; All for to kindle a bold bonfire, To burn your body in.'

11 'Where will I get a boy,' she said, 'Will gain gold for his fee, That would run unto fair England For my good lord to me?'

12 'O I have here a boy,' she said, 'Will gain gold to his fee, For he will run to fair England For thy good lord to thee.'

13 Now when he found a bridge broken, He bent his bow and swam, And when he got where grass did grow, He slacked it and ran.

14 And when he came to that lord's gate, Stopt not to knock or call, But set his bent bow to his breast And lightly leapt the wall; And ere the porter could open the gate, The boy was in the hall,

15 In presence of that noble lord, And fell down on his knee: 'What is it, my boy,' he cried, 'Have you brought unto me?

16 'Is my building broke into? Or is my towers won? Or is my true-love delivered Of daughter or of son?'

17 'Your building is not broke,' he cried, 'Nor is your towers won, Nor is your true-love delivered Of daughter nor of son; But if you do not come in haste, Be sure she will be gone.

18 'Her father is gone to the fire, Her brother to the whin, To kindle up a bold bonfire, To burn her body in.'

19 'Go saddle to me the black,' he cried, 'And do it very soon; Get unto me the swiftest horse That ever rade from the town.'

20 The first horse that he rade upon, For he was raven black, He bore him far, and very far, But failed in a slack.

21 The next horse that he rode upon, He was a bonny brown; He bore him far, and very far, But did at last fall down.

22 The next horse that he rode upon, He as the milk was white; Fair fall the mare that foaled that foal Took him to Janet's sight!

23 And boots and spurs, all as he was, Into the fire he lap, Got one kiss of her comely mouth, While her body gave a crack.

24 'O who has been so bold,' he says, 'This bonfire to set on? Or who has been so bold,' he says, 'Her body for to burn?'

25 'O here are we,' her brother said, 'This bonfire who set on; And we have been so bold,' he said, 'Her body for to burn.'

26 'O I'll cause burn for you, Janet, Your father and your mother; And I'll cause die for you, Janet, Your sister and your brother.

27 'And I'll cause mony back be bare, And mony shed be thin, And mony wife be made a widow, And mony ane want their son.'

C

Motherwell's MS., p. 472.

1 Ben came to her father dear, Stepping upon the floor; Says, It's told me, my daughter Janet, That you're now become a whore.

2 'A whore, father, a whore, father? That's what I'll never be, Tho I am with bairn to an English lord, That first did marry me.'

3 Soon after spoke her bower-woman, And sorely did she cry: 'Oh woe is me, my lady fair, That ever I saw this day!

4 'For your father's to the fire, Janet, Your brother's to the whin, Even to kindle a bold bonefire, To burn your body in.'

5 'Where will I get a bonnie boy, Will win gold to his fee, That will run on to fair England For my good lord to me?'

6 'Oh here am I, your waiting-boy, Would win gold to my fee, And will carry any message for you, By land or yet by sea.'

7 And when he fand the bridges broke, He bent his bow and swam, But when he fand the grass growing, He slacked it and ran.

8 And when he came to that lord's gate, Stopt not to knock nor call, But set his bent bow to his breast, And lightly lap the wall.

9 And ere the porter was at the gate The boy was in the hall, And in that noble lord's presence He on his knee did fall.

10 'O is my biggins broken?' he said, 'Or is my towers won? Or is my lady lighter yet, Of daughter or of son?'

11 'Your biggins are not broken,' he said, 'Nor is your towers won, Nor is your lady lighter yet, Of daughter or of son; But if you stay a little time Her life it will be gone.

12 'For her father's gone to the fire, Her brother to the whin, Even to kindle a bold bonfire, To burn her body in.'

13 'Go saddle for me in haste,' he cried, 'A brace of horses soon; Go saddle for me the swiftest steeds That ever rode to a town.'

14 The first steed that he rade on, For he was as jet black, He rode him far, and very far, But he fell down in a slack.

15 The next steed that he rode on, He was a berry brown; He bore him far, and very far, But at the last fell down.

16 The next steed that he rode on, He was as milk so white; Fair fall the mare that foaled the foal Took him to Janet's lyke!

17 But boots and spurs, all as he was, Into the fire he lap, Took ae kiss of her comely mouth, While her body gave a crack.

18 'O who has been so bold,' he said, 'This bonfire to set on? Or who has been so bold,' he cried, 'My true-love for to burn?'

19 Her father cried, I've been so bold This bonefire to put on; Her brother cried, We've been so bold Her body for to burn.

20 'Oh I shall hang for you, Janet, Your father and your brother; And I shall burn for you, Janet, Your sister and your mother.

21 'Oh I shall make many bed empty, And many shed be thin, And many a wife to be a widow, And many one want their son.

22 'Then I shall take a cloak of cloth, A staff made of the wand, And the boy who did your errand run Shall be heir of my land.'

D

Campbell MSS, II, 70.

1 Lady Margery was her mother's ain daughter, And her father's only heir, And she's away to Strawberry Castle, To learn some unco lair.

2 She hadna been in Strawberry Castle A year but only three, Till she has proved as big with child, As big as woman could be.

3 Word has to her father gone, As he pat on his shoon, That Lady Margery goes wi child, Unto some English loon.

4 Word has to her mother gane, As she pat on her gown, That Lady Margery goes wi child, Unto some English loon.

5 The father he likes her ill, The mother she likes her waur, But her father he wished her in a fire strang, To burn for ever mair.

* * * * * * *

6 'Will ye hae this auld man, Lady Margery, To be yeer warldly make? Or will ye burn in fire strang, For your true lover's sake?'

7 'I wunna hae that old, old man To be my worldly make, But I will burn in fire strang, For my true lover's sake.'

8 'O who will put of the pot? O who will put of the pan? And who will build a bale-fire, To burn her body in.'

9 The brother took of the pot, The sister took of the pan, And her mother builded a bold bale-fire, To burn her body in.

10 'O where will I get a bony boy That will run my errand soon? That will run to Strawberry Castle, And tell my love to come soon?'

11 But then started up a little boy, Near to that lady's kin: 'Often have I gane your errands, madam, But now it is time to rin.'

12 O when he came to Strawberry Castle, He tirled at the pin; There was nane sae ready as that lord himsell To let the young body in.

13 'O is my towers broken? Or is my castle wone? Or is my lady Margery lighter Of a daughter or a son?'

14 'Your towers are not broken, Nor is your castle wone; But the fairest lady of a' the land For thee this day does burn.'

15 'Go saddle for me the black, black horse, Go saddle to me the brown; Go saddle to me as swift a steed As ever man rade on.'

16 They saddled to him the black horse, They saddled to him the brown; They've saddled to him as swift a steed As ever man rade on.

17 He put his foot into the stirrup, He bounded for to ride; The silver buttons lap of his breast, And his nose began to bleed.

18 He bursted fifteen gude stout steeds, And four o them were dappled gray, And the little foot-page ran aye before, Crying, Mend it, an ye may!

19 When he came to the bale-fire, He lighted wi a glent, Wi black boots and clean spurs, And through the fire he went.

20 He laid ae arm about her neck, And the other beneath her chin; He thought to get a kiss o her, But her middle it gade in twain.

21 'But who has been so false,' he said, 'And who has been sae cruel, To carry the timber from my ain wood To burn my dearest jewel?

22 'But I'll burn for ye, Lady Margery, Yeer father and yeer mother; And I'll burn for ye, Lady Margery, Yeer sister and yeer brother.

23 'I'll do for ye, Lady Margery, What never was done for nane; I'll make many lady lemanless, And many a clothing thin.

24 'And I'll burn for yeer sake, Lady Margery, The town that yeer burnt in, And [make] many a baby fatherless, That's naething o the blame.'

E

Motherwell's MS., p. 1, from the recitation of Mrs Thomson, Kilbarchan, February 25, 1825; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 234.

1 Lady Marjory was her mother's only daughter. Her father's only heir, O And she is awa to Strawberry Castle, To get some unco lair. O

2 She had na been in Strawberry Castle A twelve month and a day, Till Lady Marjory she gaes wi child, As big as she can gae.

3 Word is to her father gone, Before he got on his shoon, That Lady Marjory she gaes wi child, And it is to an Irish groom.

4 But word is to her mother gane, Before that she gat on her gown, That Lady Marjorie she goes wi child, To a lord of high renown.

5 'O wha will put on the pot?' they said, 'Or wha will put on the pan? Or wha will put on a bauld, bauld fire, To burn Lady Marjorie in?'

6 Her father he put on the pot, Her sister put on the pan, And her brother he put on a bauld, bauld fire, To burn Lady Marjorie in; And her mother she sat in a golden chair, To see her daughter burn.

7 'But where will I get a pretty little boy, That will win hose and shoon, That will go quickly to Strawberry Castle And bid my lord come doun?'

8 'O here am I a pretty boy, That'll win hose and shoon, That will rin quickly to Strawberry Castle, And bid thy lord come doun.'

9 O when he came to broken brigs, He bent his bow and swam, And when he came to good dry land, He let down his foot and ran.

10 When he came to Strawberry Castle, He tirled at the pin; None was so ready as the gay lord himsell To open and let him in.

11 'O is there any of my towers burnt? Or any of my castles broken? Or is Lady Marjorie brought to bed, Of a daughter or a son?'

12 'O there is nane of thy towers burnt, Nor nane of thy castles broken, But Lady Marjorie is condemned to die, To be burnt in a fire of oaken.'

13 'O gar saddle to me the black,' he said, 'Gar saddle to me the brown; Gar saddle to me the swiftest steed That eer carried a man from town.'

14 He left the black into the slap, The brown into the brae, But fair fa that bonny apple-gray That carried this gay lord away!

15 He took a little horn out of his pocket, And he blew't both loud and shrill, And the little life that was in her, She hearkend to it full weel.

16 'Beet on, beet on, my brother dear, I value you not one straw, For yonder comes my own true-love, I hear his horn blaw.

17 'Beet on, beet on, my father dear, I value you not a pin, For yonder comes my own true-love, I hear his bridle ring.'

18 But when he came into the place, He lap unto the wa; He thought to get a kiss o her bonny lips, But her body fell in twa.

19 'Oh vow, oh vow, oh vow,' he said, 'Oh vow but ye've been cruel! Ye've taken the timber out of my own wood And burnt my ain dear jewel.

20 'Now for thy sake, Lady Marjorie, I'll burn both father and mother; And for thy sake, Lady Marjorie, I'll burn both sister and brother.

21 'And for thy sake, Lady Marjorie, I'll burn both kith and kin; But I will remember the pretty little boy That did thy errand rin.'

F

The Scots [Edinburgh] Magazine, 1822, LXXXIX, 734, communicated by W. W.

1 Fair Marjory's gaen into the school, Between six and seven, An she's come back richt big wi bairn, Between twalve and eleven.

2 It's out then sprung her mither dear, Stood stately on the flure: 'Ye're welcum back, young Marjory, But ye're sune becum a hure.'

3 'I'm not a hure, mither,' she said, 'Nor ever intend to be; But I'm wi child to a gentleman, An he swears he'll marry me.'

4 [It's out then sprung her father dear, Stood stately on the flure: 'Ye're welcum back, young Marjory, But ye're sune becum a hure.'

5 'I'm not a hure, father,' she said, 'Nor ever intend to be; But I'm wi child to a gentleman, An he swears he will marry me.'

6 It's out then sprung her brother dear, Stood stately on the flure: 'Ye're welcum back, young Marjory, But ye're sune becum a hure.'

7 'I'm not a hure, brother,' she said, 'Nor ever intend to be; But I'm wi child to a gentleman, An he swears he will marry me.'

8 It's out then sprung her sister dear, Stood stately on the flure: 'Ye're welcum back, young Marjory, But ye're sune becum a hure.'

9 'I'm not a hure, sister,' she said, 'Nor ever intend to be;] Ye're but a young woman, sister, An ye shuld speak sparinlie.'

10 Her father's to the grene-wude gaen, Her brither's to the brume; An her mither sits in her gowden chair, To see her dochter burn.

* * * * * * *

11 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The sister she culd do naething, And she sat down to greet.

12 'Oh whare will I get a bonny boy, That wull win hose an shoon, That wull rin to Strawberry Castle for me, And bid my true-love come?'

13 It's out than spak a bonny boy, That stude richt at her knee: 'It's I wull rin your errand, ladie, Wi the saut tear i my ee.'

14 It's whan he cam to broken brigg, He bent his bow an swam, An whan he cam whare green grass grew, Set doon his feet an ran.

15 An whan he cam to Strawberry Castle, He thirled at the pin, An aye sae ready as the porter was To rise and let him in.

* * * * * * *

16 'Gae saddle to me the black,' he says, 'Gae saddle to me the broun; Gae saddle to me the swiftest steed That eer set fute on grun.'

17 It's first he burst the bonny black, An syne the bonny broun, But the dapple-gray rade still away, Till he cam to the toun.

18 An aye he rade, an aye he rade, An aye away he flew, Till the siller buttons flew off his coat; He took out his horn an blew.

19 An aye he blew, an aye he blew, He blew baith loud an shrill, An the little life that Marjory had, She heard his horn blaw weel.

20 'Beik on, beik on, cruel mither,' she said, 'For I value you not a straw; For if ever I heard my love in my life, He's comin here awa.'

* * * * * * *

21 When he cam unto the flames He jamp in, butes and a'; He thocht to hae kissd her red rosy lips, But her body broke in twa.

* * * * * * *

22 I'll burn for thy sake, Marjory, The toun that thou lies in; An I'll mak the baby fatherless, For I'll throw mysel therein.

G

Notes and Queries, Second Series, IX, 193; communicated by A. J., Edinburgh, as learned by himself and an elder sister from an old washerwoman of East Dereham, Norfolk, in the early part of this century.

* * * * * * *

1 'My father was the first good man Who tied me to a stake; My mother was the first good woman Who did the fire make.

2 'My brother was the next good man Who did the fire fetch; My sister was the next good woman Who lighted it with a match.

3 'They blew the fire, they kindled the fire, Till it did reach my knee: "O mother, mother, quench the fire! The smoke will smother me."

4 'O had I but my little foot-page, My errand he would run; He would run unto gay London, And bid my lord come home.'

5 Then there stood by her sister's child, Her own dear sister's son: 'O many an errand I've run for thee, And but this one I'll run.'

6 He ran, where the bridge was broken down He bent his bow and swam; He swam till he came to the good green turf, He up on his feet and ran.

7 He ran till he came at his uncle's hall; His uncle sat at his meat: 'Good mete, good mete, good uncle, I pray, O if you knew what I'd got to say, How little would you eat!'

8 'O is my castle broken down, Or is my tower won? Or is my gay lady brought o bed, Of a daughter or a son?'

9 'Your castle is not broken down, Your tower it is not won; Your gay lady is not brought to bed, Of a daughter or a son.

10 'But she has sent you a gay gold ring, With a posy round the rim, To know, if you have any love for her, You'll come to her burning.'

11 He called down his merry men all, By one, by two, by three; He mounted on his milk-white steed, To go to Margery.

12 They blew the fire, they kindled the fire, Till it did reach her head: 'O mother, mother, quench the fire! For I am nearly dead.'

13 She turned her head on her left shoulder, Saw her girdle hang on the tree: 'O God bless them that gave me that! They'll never give more to me.'

14 She turned her head on her right shoulder, Saw her lord come riding home: 'O quench the fire, my dear mother! For I am nearly gone.'

15 He mounted off his milk-white steed, And into the fire he ran, Thinking to save his gay ladye, But he had staid too long.

H

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 103.

1 There stands a stane in wan water, It's lang ere it grew green; Lady Maisry sits in her bower door, Sewing at her silken seam.

2 Word's gane to her mother's kitchen, And to her father's ha, That Lady Maisry is big wi bairn-- And her true-love's far awa.

3 When her brother got word of this, Then fiercely looked he: 'Betide me life, betide me death, At Maisry's bower I'se be.

4 'Gae saddle to me the black, the black, Gae saddle to me the brown; Gae saddle to me the swiftest steed, To hae me to the town.'

5 When he came to Maisry's bower, He turnd him round about, And at a little shott-window, He saw her peeping out.

6 'Gude morrow, gude morrow, Lady Maisry, God make you safe and free!' 'Gude morrow, gude morrow, my brother dear, What are your wills wi me?'

7 'What's come o a' your green claithing, Was ance for you too side? And what's become o your lang stays, Was ance for you too wide?'

8 'O he that made my claithing short, I hope he'll make them side; And he that made my stays narrow, I hope he'll make them wide.'

9 'O is it to a lord o might, Or baron o high degree? Or is it to any o your father's boys, Rides in the chase him wi?'

10 'It's no to any Scottish lord, Nor baron o high degree; But English James, that little prince, That has beguiled me.'

11 'O was there not a Scots baron That could hae fitted thee, That thus you've lovd an Englishman, And has affronted me?'

12 She turnd her right and round about, The tear blinded her ee: 'What is the wrang I've done, brother, Ye look sae fierce at me?'

13 'Will ye forsake that English blude, When your young babe is born?' 'I'll nae do that, my brother dear, Tho I shoud be forlorn.'

14 'I'se cause a man put up the fire, Anither ca in the stake, And on the head o yon high hill I'll burn you for his sake.

15 'O where are all my wall-wight men, That I pay meat and fee, For to hew down baith thistle and thorn, To burn that lady wi?'

16 Then he has taen her, Lady Maisry, And fast he has her bound; And he causd the fiercest o his men Drag her frae town to town.

17 Then he has causd ane of his men Hew down baith thistle and thorn; She carried the peats in her petticoat-lap, Her ainsell for to burn.

18 Then ane pat up this big bauld fire, Anither ca'd in the stake; It was to burn her Lady Maisry, All for her true-love's sake.

19 But it fell ance upon a day, Prince James he thought full lang; He minded on the lady gay He left in fair Scotland.

20 'O where will I get a little wee boy, Will win gowd to his fee, That will rin on to Adam's high tower, Bring tidings back to me?'

21 'O here am I, a little wee boy, Will win gowd to my fee, That will rin on to Adam's high tower, Bring tidings back to thee.'

22 Then he is on to Adam's high tower, As fast as gang coud he, And he but only wan in time The fatal sight to see.

23 He sat his bent bow to his breast, And ran right speedilie, And he is back to his master, As fast as gang coud he.

24 'What news, what news, my little wee boy? What news hae ye to me?' 'Bad news, bad news, my master dear, Bad news, as ye will see.'

25 'Are ony o my biggins brunt, my boy? Or ony o my towers won? Or is my lady lighter yet, O dear daughter or son?'

26 'There's nane o your biggins brunt, master, Nor nane o your towers won, Nor is your lady lighter yet, O dear daughter nor son.

27 'There's an has been [put up] a big bauld fire, Anither ca'd in the stake, And on the head o yon high hill, They're to burn her for your sake.'

28 'Gae saddle to me the black, the black, Gae saddle to me the brown; Gae saddle to me the swiftest steed, To hae me to the town.'

29 Ere he was three miles near the town, She heard his horse-foot patt: 'Mend up the fire, my fause brother, It scarce comes to my pap.'

30 Ere he was twa miles near the town, She heard his bridle ring: 'Mend up the fire, my fause brother, It scarce comes to my chin.

31 'But look about, my fause brother, Ye see not what I see; I see them coming here, or lang Will mend the fire for thee.'

32 Then up it comes him little Prince James, And fiercely looked he: 'I'se make my love's words very true She said concerning me.

33 'O wha has been sae bauld,' he said, 'As put this bonfire on? And wha has been sae bauld,' he said, 'As put that lady in?'

34 Then out it spake her brother then, He spoke right furiouslie; Says, I'm the man that put her in: Wha dare hinder me?

35 'If my hands had been loose,' she said, 'As they are fastly bound, I woud hae looted me to the ground, Gien you up your bonny young son.'

36 'I will burn, for my love's sake, Her father and her mother; And I will burn, for my love's sake, Her sister and her brother.

37 'And I will burn, for my love's sake, The whole o a' her kin; And I will burn, for my love's sake, Thro Linkum and thro Lin.

38 'And mony a bed will I make toom, And bower will I make thin; And mony a babe shall thole the fire, For I may enter in.'

39 Great meen was made for Lady Maisry, On that hill whare she was slain; But mair was for her ain true-love, On the fields for he ran brain.

I

#a.# Motherwell's MS., p. 235; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 221. #b.# Motherwell's MS., p. 179, from Mrs Thomson, of Kilbarchan. #c.# Motherwell's MS., p. 181, from Mrs McLean, of Glasgow.

1 There lived a lady in Scotland, Hey my love and ho my joy There lived a lady in Scotland, Who dearly loved me There lived a lady in Scotland, An she's fa'n in love wi an Englishman. And bonnie Susie Cleland is to be burnt in Dundee

2 The father unto the daughter came, Who dearly loved me Saying, Will you forsake that Englishman?

3 'If you will not that Englishman forsake, Who dearly loved me O I will burn you at a stake.'

4 'I will not that Englishman forsake, Who dearly loved me Tho you should burn me at a stake.

5 'O where will I get a pretty little boy, Who dearly loves me Who will carry tidings to my joy?'

6 'Here am I, a pretty little boy, Who dearly loves thee Who will carry tidings to thy joy.'

7 'Give to him this right-hand glove, Who dearly loves me Tell him to get another love. For, etc.

8 'Give to him this little penknife, Who dearly loves me Tell him to get another wife. For, etc.

9 'Give to him this gay gold ring; Who dearly loves me Tell him I'm going to my burning.' An, etc.

10 The brother did the stake make, Who dearly loved me The father did the fire set. An bonnie Susie Cleland was burnt in Dundee.

* * * * *

#A.#

11^1. she says.

16^1. ~blood~ I was disposed to change to ~lord~: but see #H# 13^1.

21^{3, 4}. _As cited by Anderson from William Tytler's MS.,_

... to green grass growing He took off his sheen.

#B.#

22^4. Janet's exite: in #C# 16^4 Janet's lyke.

#D.#

Stanzas 8, 9, 21, are the three last of the MS.

8^{1, 2}. _I should read ~put on~, were it not for 9^{1, 2}._

23^3. lady lamentless.

#E.#

3^3. ~If~ for ~that~ in the margin, without explanation.

15-17. The order in the MS. is 16, 17, 15.

Motherwell, as often elsewhere, makes slight changes in printing, as: 11^2, ~broken~ to ~won~, though not changed in 12^2; 15^3 [17^3], ~And~ to ~And wi~, unnecessarily, see #F# 19^3.

#F.#

2-9. "Her father, brother, and sister successively address her in the same polite style, and receive the same answer; except that to the latter, instead of the information contained in the last two lines, she addresses a piece of advice." The phrase ~stood stately~ in 2^2, most appropriate for the mother, was probably varied for father, brother, and sister.

15-16. "He delivers his message in the approved ballad style, and the lover speaks."

20. "The few verses following contain her testamentary bequests to her relatives above mentioned; but the person from whom I got the ballad could not repeat them."

#G.#

6^2. He bend.

#I. a.#

1. Given in the Appendix to Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. xix, XIV, with this slight difference in the burden: And she dearly loved me.

3-9. at Dundee in the burden.

8^2. ~Penknife~ for ~wife~, in my copy of the MS.

10. In the Minstrelsy, from #b#:

Her father he ca'd up the stake, Her brother he the fire did make.

#b.#

1. There lived a lady in Scotland O my love and O my joy Who dearly loved an Englishman. And bonnie Susie Cleland is to be burnt at Dundee

2. The father to the daughter came: 'Will you forsake your Englishman?' For, etc.

3 is wanting.

4. 'My Englishman I'll neer forsake, Altho you burn me at your stake. For, etc.

5. 'O where will I get a pretty little boy, That will bring tidings to my joy?' For, etc.

6. 'O here am I, a pretty little boy, And I'll carry tidings to thy joy.' For, etc.

7. 'O take to him this right-hand glove, Tell him to seek another love.' For, etc.

8 is wanting.

9. 'O bring to him this gay gold ring, And bid him come to my burning.' For, etc.

10. Her father he ca'd up the stake, Her brother he the fire did make. And bonnie Susie Cleland is burnt at Dundee

#c.#

1-4 are wanting.

5. 'Where will I get a bonny boy, Oh my love and oh my joy Where will I get a bonny boy, That dearly loves me Where will I get a bonny boy, Will carry tidings to my joy?' Bonnie Susie Cleland was burned at Dundee

6. 'Here am I, a little boy, That dearly loves thee Will carry tidings to thy joy.'

7. 'Carry my love this glove, Who dearly loves me Bid him seek another love.

8. 'Carry my love this knife, That dearly loves me Bid him seek another wife.

9. 'Carry my love this ring, That dearly loves me Bid him come to my burning.

10 is wanting.

[87] The genuineness of #H#, Buchan's version, may be doubted both on general and on particular grounds, and both because of its departures from the common story and because of its repeating some peculiarities of the Jamieson-Brown copy, #A#. If #H# was compiled, as I think it was, largely from #A#, the person that did the work may have seen the manuscript, which is not at all improbable; for the English blude of #H# 13 is found in the MS., #A# 16, and not in the copy printed by Jamieson, and so with the thistle of #H# 15, #A# 17. Buchan, or Buchan's foreman, is entitled to copyright for the invention, in #H# 17, of Maisry's carrying peats in her petticoat, "her ainsell for to burn;" also for English James, that little prince, 10^3, Adam's high tower, 20^3, thro Linkum and thro Lin, 37^4.

[88] Like the Clerk of Oxenford's two sons, and Sweet William, Motherwell, Minstrelsy, p. 307.

[89] There is no word of quailing except in #G#, and in #G# she blesses her lover most touchingly, with almost her last words.

She turned her head on her left shoulder, Saw her girdle hang on the tree: 'O God bless them that gave me that! They'll never give more to me.'

[90] According to Buchan, #H# 39, Maisry's true-love ran brain; so again in Buchan's version of Fair Janet, see #F# 35. This is Maisry's end in several versions of 'Auld Ingram,' and in all, I suppose, a modern substitute for the immediate death of older ballads.

[91] A champion may be offered even in Ariosto's Scotland.

[92] In 'The Infanta and Don Galvan,' the lady, like Fair Janet, calls to Don Galvan to come and take her new-born child and carry it to his mother to nurse. The father superintends in person the preparation of the pile in 'Dona Ausenda.' In the romances of Conde Claros, the infanta, when she learns that she is to be burnt, asks for some one "que haya comido mi pan," to carry a letter to Don Claros, and a page does the errand, just as in the Scottish ballad: Primavera, II, 374, etc. Often a bird, hawk, dove, takes the message, as in 'Sweet William,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 307. Don Claros asks the infanta of her father in marriage, and is refused (because she is promised). He then informs the emperor that the infanta is with child. It is a hunter who informs the father of the love of his daughter and the count in one of the romances, Primavera, II, 362. Compare the German ballad, in 'Fair Janet,' p. 102. When the lover gets his letter, in Briz, IV, 43, he reminds us of Sir Patrick Spens:

Quan D. Cárlos reb la carta, molt content y alegre estava: Al desclohent de la carta, llágrimas de sanch llansava.

66

LORD INGRAM AND CHIEL WYET

#A. a.# 'Lord Ingram and Chiel Wyet,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 173. #b.# 'Child Vyet,' Maidment's North Countrie Garland, p. 24.

#B.# 'Lord Ingram and Gil Viett,' Skene MS., p. 16.

#C.# 'Auld Ingram,' Herd's MSS, I, 169, II, 84; 'Lord Wa'yates and Auld Ingram,' Jamieson's Popular Ballads, II, 265.

#D.# 'Lord Ingram and Childe Viat,' Kinloch MSS, V, 323.

#E.# 'Lord Ingram and Childe Vyet,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 234.

#C# was furnished Jamieson from Herd's MSS by Scott, and underwent a few slight changes in publication. Jamieson inquired through the Scots Magazine, October, 1803, p. 699, for the conclusion, which is wanting, but unsuccessfully.

The only variation of much moment in the five versions of this tragedy is that, in #C#, the bridegroom and the lover are not brothers, but uncle and nephew. Some inconsistencies have been created in the course of tradition. The bride's insisting on having twenty men before her and twenty on each side, ere she will go to kirk, not to mention the extravagance of twenty milk-white doves above her head, #C# 22,[93] is incompatible with her aversion to the "weary wedding," and with her language about the bridegroom's gifts in #C# 4, 5, #D# 4-6, #E# 8-10. There is much confusion at the end. After the death of the two rivals the lady, in #E#, imposes on herself the penance of begging her bread as a pilgrim for the rest of her days. This penance we find also in the two last stanzas of #A#, and a trace of it in #B# 20, #D# 10. Another, and probably later, representation is that she went mad, #A# 30, #B# 19, #D# 9. The two are blended in #A#, #B#, #D#; unless we are to suppose that Maisry's adopting a beggar's life was a consequence of her madness, which is not according to the simplicity of old ballads. That something was due the unfortunate Lord Ingram, especially if he was disposed to relinquish his wife to his brother, #B# 17, the modern sense of justice will admit; but that Maisry's remorse on account of the handsome wedding Ingram had given her should exceed her grief for Chiel Wyet, #A# 32, #B# 20, #D# 10, #E# 43, 44, is as little natural as romantic, and is only to be explained as an exhibition of imbecility, whether on her part or on the part of some reciter who gave that turn to the story. #B# confounds confusion by killing Maisry on the top of all.

The sword laid in bed between man and woman, #B# 14, #E# 30, as a sign or pledge of continence, does not occur often in popular ballads. We have it in 'Südeli,' Uhland, I, 275, No 121, st. 11, and in two of the Swedish forms of Grundtvig's 'Brud i Vaande,' Danmarks gamle Folkeviser, V, 345, No. 277, #D#, sts 26, 27, and Arwidsson, II, 248, No 132, sts 21, 22, 'Fru Margaretha.' In popular tales: Grimms, K. u. H. märchen, No 60; Asbjørnsen og Moe, Norske Folkeeventyr, No 3; Il Pentamerone, I, 9; Hahn's Griechische Märchen, I, 171, No 122. In Norse poetry and saga: Völsunga saga, 27, Rafn, Fornaldar Sögur, I, 187; Sæmund's Edda, Sigurðarkviða, III, 65, Lüning, p. 401, Bugge (68), p. 259; Snorri's Edda, Hafniæ, 1848, I, 362, Skáldskaparmál, 41; Saxo Grammaticus, Book 9, p. 162 of the Frankfort edition of 1576; Gaungu-Hrólfs saga, 24, Fornaldar Sögur, III, 303. Further, in Orendel und Bríde, ed. Ettmüller, p. 46, XII, 49, 50; Wolfdietrich, von der Hagen's Heldenbuch, I, 236, st. 592; Tristan, ed. Michel, I, 88, v. 1768 ff, Scott's Sir Tristrem, III, 20; Amis and Amiloun, Weber's Metrical Romances, II, 417, v. 1163 ff; Aladdin in the Arabian Nights, J. Scott, IV 345.[94]

Lord Wayets, in #C# 17, kicks up the table and sends the silver cup into the fire. Young Beichan takes the table with his foot and makes the cups and cans to flee, #B# 18, #D# 23, #F# 28, #J# 5, #N# 42, or makes the table flee, #H# 42; so the knight in 'Child Waters,' #G# 18, the baron in 'Child Maurice,' #E#, #F#, and the mother in 'Fair Mary of Wallington,' #A#, #B#. Kinmont Willie, st. 9, takes the table with his hand and gars the red wine spring on hie. The table, being of boards laid on trestles, would be easy to ding over or make flee. Being also narrow, it might be jumped over, and those in whose way it might be seem to have preferred to clear it in that fashion, at least out of Britain. So the Danish Lord Lovel on hearing of his love's death, spilling the mead or wine, Kristensen, II, No 20, #A# 6, #B# 10, #C# 3, #D# 4; Sir Peter in Afzelius, No 9, I, 50, Grundtvig, No 210, IV, 220, etc. The king in the Icelandic Ribbalds kvæði, to be sure, kicks the table away and spills the mead and wine, Íslenzk Fornkvæði, No 16, #B# 8, #C# 2, so that Lord Wayets, Young Beichan, and others may have taken their cue from that island. But against this we may put Hervarar saga, c. 3, Fornaldar Sögur, I, 516; Olafs saga hins Helga, c. 50, Keyser and Unger, p. 36; Grundtvig, Danmarks Folkeviser, No 11, #A# 23, No 13, #B# 18, #G# 15, #I# 16; etc. In 'Magnus Algotsøn,' Grundtvig, No 181, #D# 18, the bride jumps over the table and goes off with her old love; in Sušil's Bohemian ballads, No 135, p. 131, the bride jumps over four tables and on to a fifth to get at her first betrothed; in the Novella della Figlia del Re di Dacia, ed. Wesselofsky, p. 38, the duke jumps over the table to get to his wife; in a German ballad in Schröer's Ausflug nach Gottschee, p. 210 f, the bridegroom, who has lost the bride, jumps over the table to get out of the room as soon as possible; a French gentleman takes a vault over the table before him, Gautier, Les Épopées Françaises, I, 508, ed. 1865, and a lady in a ludicrous anecdote told in the Zimmerische Chronik, ed. Barack, 1881, II, 132 f. But Torello's wife, on the other hand, Decameron, X, 9, throws down the table which bars her way to her lord, and so does the steward in 'Sir Orfeo,' v. 576, ed. Zielke.[95]

Ebbe Skammelsøn, being obliged to absent himself from his plighted maid for a considerable time, loses her through the artifices of his brother [and mother], who pretends first that Ebbe is unfaithful, and then that he is dead. Ebbe is warned by a dream that his brother is about to wed his mistress, goes home in great haste, and arrives on the wedding-day. He kills the bride, and then his brother, who, at the last moment, offers to cede the bride to him, as Lord Ingram, in #B# 17, says he meant to do. Ebbe after this begs his bread, or goes on a pilgrimage weighted with iron on his hands and loins; wherein his part resembles Maisry's. Danske Viser, III, 75, No 120, translated by Prior, II, 380; Arwidsson, No 33, I, 216, 224, 412; Atterbom's Poetisk Kalender, 1816, p. 55.

It may be worth noting that Maisry's wedding, according to #B# 20, was "in good kirk-door," like the five of The Wife of Bath.

* * * * *

Translated by Knortz, Lieder und Romanzen Alt-Englands, p. 166, No 44, after Allingham, p. 306.

A

#a.# Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 173, communicated by Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe. #b.# Maidment's North Countrie Garland, p. 24, from tradition in Aberdeenshire.

1 Lord Ingram and Chiel Wyet Was baith born in one bower; Laid baith their hearts on one lady, The less was their honour.

2 Chiel Wyet and Lord Ingram Was baith born in one hall; Laid baith their hearts on one lady, The worse did them befall.

3 Lord Ingram wood her Lady Maisery From father and from mother; Lord Ingram wood her Lady Maisery From sister and from brother.

4 Lord Ingram wood her Lady Maisery With leave of a' her kin; And every one gave full consent, But she said no to him.

5 Lord Ingram wood her Lady Maisery Into her father's ha; Chiel Wyet wood her Lady Maisery Amang the sheets so sma.

6 Now it fell out upon a day, She was dressing her head, That ben did come her father dear, Wearing the gold so red.

7 He said, Get up now, Lady Maisery, Put on your wedding gown; For Lord Ingram he will be here, Your wedding must be done.

8 'I'd rather be Chiel Wyet's wife, The white fish for to sell, Before I were Lord Ingram's wife, To wear the silk so well.

9 'I'd rather be Chiel Wyet's wife, With him to beg my bread, Before I were Lord Ingram's wife, To wear the gold so red.

10 'Where will I get a bonny boy, Will win gold to his fee, And will run unto Chiel Wyet's, With this letter from me?'

11 'O here I am, the boy,' says one, 'Will win gold to my fee, And carry away any letter To Chiel Wyet from thee.'

12 And when he found the bridges broke, He bent his bow and swam; And when he found the grass growing, He hastened and he ran.

13 And when he came to Chiel Wyet's castle, He did not knock nor call, But set his bent bow to his breast, And lightly leaped the wall; And ere the porter opend the gate, The boy was in the hall.

14 The first line he looked on, A grieved man was he; The next line he looked on, A tear blinded his ee: Says, I wonder what ails my one brother He'll not let my love be!

15 'But I'll send to my brother's bridal bridal-- The bacon shall be mine-- Full four and twenty buck and roe, And ten tun of the wine; And bid my love be blythe and glad, And I will follow syne.'

16 There was not a groom about that castle But got a gown of green, And all was blythe, and all was glad, But Lady Maisery she was neen.

17 There was no cook about that kitchen But got a gown of gray, And all was blythe, and all was glad, But Lady Maisery was wae.

18 Between Mary Kirk and that castle Was all spread ower with garl, To keep Lady Maisery and her maidens From tramping on the marl.

19 From Mary Kirk to that castle Was spread a cloth of gold, To keep Lady Maisery and her maidens From treading on the mold.

20 When mass was sung, and bells was rung, And all men bound for bed, Then Lord Ingram and Lady Maisery In one bed they were laid.

21 When they were laid into their bed-- It was baith soft and warm-- He laid his hand over her side, Says, I think you are with bairn.

22 'I told you once, so did I twice, When ye came me to woo, That Chiel Wyet, your only brother, One night lay in my bower.

23 'I told you twice, I told you thrice, Ere ye came me to wed, That Chiel Wyet, your one brother, One night lay in my bed.'

24 'O will you father your bairn on me, And on no other man? And I'll give him to his dowry Full fifty ploughs of land.'

25 'I will not father my bairn on you, Nor on no wrongeous man, Though ye would give him to his dowry Five thousand ploughs of land.'

26 Then up did start him Chiel Wyet, Shed by his yellow hair, And gave Lord Ingram to the heart A deep wound and a sair.

27 Then up did start him Lord Ingram, Shed by his yellow hair, And gave Chiel Wyet to the heart A deep wound and a sair.

28 There was no pity for that two lords, Where they were lying slain; But all was for her Lady Maisery, In that bower she gaed brain.

29 There was no pity for that two lords, When they were lying dead; But all was for her Lady Maisery, In that bower she went mad.

30 Said, Get to me a cloak of cloth, A staff of good hard tree; If I have been an evil woman, I shall beg till I dee.

31 'For a bit I'll beg for Chiel Wyet, For Lord Ingram I'll beg three; All for the good and honorable marriage At Mary Kirk he gave me.'

B

Skene MS., p. 16; taken down in the North of Scotland, 1802-1803.

1 Lord Ingram and Gil Viett Were baith born in ae ha; They laid their love on ae lady, An fate they coud na fa.

2 Lord Ingram and Gil Viett Were baith laid in ae wame; They laid their love on ae lady, The greater was their shame.

3 Lord Ingram wood her Lady Masery Frae father and frae mither; Gill Viett wood her Lady Masery Frae sister and frae brither.

4 Lord Ingram courted her Lady Masery Among the company a'; Gill Viett he wood her Lady Masery Among the sheets so sma.

5 'Get up, my daughter dear, Put on your bridal gown; This day's your bridal day Wi Lord Ingram.'

6 'How can I get up, An put on my bridal gown, Or how marry the ae brither, An the tither's babe in my womb?'

* * * * * * *

7 'O laugh you at mysell, brither, Or at my companie? Or laugh ye at my bonnie bride, She wad na laugh at thee?'

8 'I laugh na at yoursel, brither, Nor at your companie; Nor laugh I at your buirlie bride, She wad na laugh at me.

9 'But there's a brotch on a breast-bane, A garlan on ane's hair; Gin ye kend what war under that, Ye wad neer love woman mair.

10 'There is a brotch on a breast-bane, An roses on ane's sheen; Gin ye kend what war under that, Your love wad soon be deen.'

11 Whan bells were rung, and mass was sung, And a' man boun to bed, Lord Ingram and Lady Masery In ae chamer were laid.

12 He put his hand out oure his bonnie bride, The babe between her sides did quake: . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

13 'O father your babe on me, Lady Masery, O father your babe on me.' . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

14 'I may father my babe on a stock, Sae may I on a stane, But my babe shall never hae A father but its ain.'

15 He took out a brand, And laid it atween them twa; . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

16 Gill Viett took out a long brand, And stroakd it oer a stro, An thro and thro Lord Ingram's bodie He made it come and go.

17 'Wae mat worth ye, Gill Viett, An ill died mat ye die! For I had the cup in my hand To hae drunken her oer to thee.'

18 '[For] ae mile [I wad gae] for Gil Viett, For Lord Ingram I wad hae gaen three; An a' for that in good kirk-door Fair wedding he gave me.'

19 Gil Viett took a long brand, An stroakd it on a stro, An through and thro his own bodie He made it come and go.

20 There was nae mean made for that godd lords, In bowr whar they lay slain, But a' was for that lady, In bowr whar she gaed brain.

21 There was nae mean made for that lady, In bowr whar she lay dead, But a' was for the bonnie babe That lay blabbering in her bleed.

C

Herd's MSS, I, 169, II, 84. Jamieson's Popular Ballads, II, 265.

1 Lady Maisdry was a lady fair, She maid her mither's bed; Auld Ingram was an aged knight, And hee sought her to wed.

2 ''Tis I forbid ye, Auld Ingram, For to seek me to spouse; For Lord Wayets, your sister's son, Has been into my bowrs.

3 ''T is I forbid ye, Auld Ingram, For to seek me to wed; For Lord Wayets, your sister's son, Has been into my bed.'

4 'T is he has bought to this lady The robes of the brown; 'And ever alas,' says this lady, 'The robs will pit mee down!'

5 And he has bought to this lady The robs of the red; 'And ever alas,' says this lady, 'The robs will be my dead!'

6 And he has bought to this lady The chrystal and the lammer, Sae has hee bought to her mither The curches of the cammer.

7 Every ane o her se'n brethren They had a hawk in hand, And every lady i the place They got a goud garland.

8 Every cuk in that kitchen They gat a noble claith; A' was blyth at Auld Ingram's cuming, But Lady Maisdrey was wraith.

9 'Whare will I get a bonny boy, Wad fain wun hos and shoon, That wud rin on to my Wayets, And quickly cume again?'

10 'Here am I, a bonny boy, Wad fain wun hoes and shoon, Wha wull rin on to your Wayets, And quickly cume again.'

11 'Ye'l bid him, and ye'l pray him baith, Gif ony prayer can dee, To Mary Kirk to cume the morn, My weary wadding to see.'

12 Lord Wayets lay our his castle wa, Beheld baith dale and down, And he beheld a bonny boy Cume rinnen to the town.

13 'What news, what news, ye bonny boy? What news ye hae to mee? . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

14 'O is my ladie's fauldis brunt? Or is her towrs wun? Or is my Maisdrey lighter yet A dear dochter or sun?'

15 'Your ladie's faulds they are not brunt, Nor yet are her towrs wun, Neither is Maisdrey lighter yet A dear dochter or sun.

16 'But she bids ye and she prays ye baith, Gif ony prayer can dee, To Mary Kirk to cume the morn, Her weary wadding to see.'

17 He dung the boord up wi his fit, Sae did he wi his tae; The silver cup that sat upon't I the fire he gard it flee: 'O what na a lord in a' Scotland Dare marry my Maisdrey?'

18 'O 't is but a feeble thought To tell the tane and not the tither; O 't is but a feeble thought To tell't is your mither's brither.'

19 ''T is I wull send to that wadding, And I wul follow syne, The fitches o the fallow deer An the gammons o the swine, An the nine hides o the noble cow; 'T was slain in season time.

20 ''T is I wul send to that wadding Ten ton of the red wyne; Much more I'll send to that wadding, An I wul follow syne.'

21 When he came in unto the ha, Lady Maisdrey she did ween, And twenty times he kist her mou Before Auld Ingram's een.

22 Nor to the kirk she wud ne gae, Nor til't she wudn ride, Till four and twunty men she gat her before, An twunty on ilka side, An four and twunty milk-white dows To flee aboon her head.

23 A loud laughter gae Lord Wayets Mang the mids o his men: 'Marry the lady wham they weel, A maiden she is nane.'

24 'O laugh ye at my men, Wayets? Or di ye laugh at me? Or laugh ye at the beerly bride, That's gane to marry me?'

25 'I laugh na at your men, uncle, Nor yet dive I at thee, Bit I laugh at my lands sae braid, Sae weel's I do them see.'

26 Whan ene was cume, and ene-bells rung, An a' man gane to bed, The bride bit and the silly bridegroom In chambers they were laid.

27 Was na it a fell thing for to see, Twa heads lye on a coad, Lady Maisdrey like the moten goud, Auld Ingram like a toad?

28 He turnd his face unto the stock, And sound he fell asleep; She turnd her fair face unto the wa, An sa't tears she did weep.

29 It fell about the mark midnight, Auld Ingram began to turn him; He pat his hands on's lady's sides, An waly, sair was she murnin.

30 'What aileth thee, my lady dear? Ever alas and wae's me, There is a baube betwixt thy sides! O sae sair's it grieves me.'

31 'Didn I tell ye that, Auld Ingram, Or ye saught me to wed, That Lord Wayets, your sister's son, Had been into my bed?'

32 'O father that bairn on me, Maisdrey, O father it on me, An ye sall hae a rigland shire Your mornin's gift to bee.'

33 'O sarbit,' says the Lady Maisdrey, 'That ever the like me befa, To father my bairn on Auld Ingram, Lord Wayets in my father's ha!

34 'O sarbit,' says the Lady Maisdrey, 'That ever the like me betide, To father my bairn on Auld Ingram, An Lord Wayets beside!'

D

Kinloch MSS, V, 323, in the handwriting of John Hill Burton.

1 Lord Ingram and Childe Viat Were both bred in one ha; They laid their luves on one ladye, And frae her they could na fa.

2 Lord Ingram courted Ladye Maisery, He courted her frae ha to bower; And even sae did Childe Viat, Amang the summer flowers.

3 Lord Ingram courted Ladye Maisery, He courted her frae bower to ha; And even sae did Childe Viat, Among the sheets sae sma.

4 Lord Ingram bought her Ladye Maisery The steed that paid him well; She wads he were ayont the sea, Gin she had her true love.

5 Lord Ingram bought her Lady Maisery The knives hafted wi steel; She wads they were in his heart's bluid, Gin Childe Viat was weel.

6 Lord Ingram bought her Lady Maisery The golden knobbed gloves; She wads they were ayone the sea, Gin she had her true love.

* * * * * * *

7 'There's two swords in one scabbard, They cost me many a pound; Take you tho best, leave me the worst, We's fight till they be done.'

8 The firsten stroke Lord Ingram gae, He wounded Childe Viat nigh; The nexten stroke Childe Viat gae, Lord Ingram's head did flie; And fifty feet oer a burken buss Lord Ingram's head did flee.

9 There was no mane made for these two lords, In bower where they lay slain; But all was for this fair ladie, In bower where she gaed brain.

* * * * * * *

10 'For one word I would gie for Childe Viat, For Lord Ingram I would gie three; And it's a' for the brave wedding That he did to me gie.'

E

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 234.

1 Lord Ingram and Childe Vyet Were baith born in ae bower; They fell in love wi ae lady, Their honour was but poor.

2 Lord Ingram and Childe Vyet Were baith bred in ae ha; They laid their love on Lady Maisry, The waur did them befa.

3 Lord Ingram gained Lady Maisry Frae father and frae mother; Lord Ingram gained Lady Maisry Frae sister and frae brother.

4 Lord Ingram gained Lady Maisry Frae a' her kith and kin; Lord Ingram courted Lady Maisry But she said nay to him.

5 Lord Ingram courted Lady Maisry In the garden amo the flowers; Childe Vyet courted Lady Maisry Amo her ha's and bowers.

6 Lord Ingram sent to Lady Maisry A steed paced fu well; She wishes he were ower the sea, If Childe Vyet were well.

7 Lord Ingram courted Lady Maisry Frae her relations a'; Childe Vyet courted Lady Maisry Amo the sheets sae sma.

8 Lord Ingram bought to Lady Maisry The siller knapped gloves; She wishd his hands might swell in them, Had she her ain true love.

9 Lord Ingram bought to Lady Maisry The brands garnishd wi steel; She wishd the same might pierce his heart, Gin Childe Vyet were weell.

10 Childe Vyet bought to Lady Maisry The fancy ribbons sma; She had mair delight in her sma fancy Than o Lord Ingram, gowd and a'.

11 Lord Ingram's gane to her father, And thus he did complain: 'O am I doomd to die for love, And nae be loved again?

12 'I hae sent to your daughter The steed paced fu well; She wishes I were ower the sea, Gin Childe Vyet were well.

13 'I hae bought to your daughter The siller knapped gloves; She wishd my hands might swell in them, Had she her ain true love.

14 'I hae bought to your daughter The brands garnishd wi steel; She wishd the same might pierce my heart, Gin Childe Vyet were weell.

15 'Childe Vyet bought to your daughter The fancy ribbons sma; She's mair delight in her sma fancy Nor o me, gowd and a'.'

16 Her father turnd him round about, A solemn oath sware he, Saying, She shall be the bride this night, And you bridegroom shall be.

17 'O had your tongue, my father dear, Let a' your passion be; The reason that I love this man, It is unknown to thee.'

18 Sweetly played the merry organs, Intill her mother's bower; But still and dum stood Lady Maisry, And let the tears down pour.

19 Sweetly played the harp sae fine, Intill her fathers ha; But still and dum stood Lady Maisry, And let tears down fa.

20 Tween Marykirk and her mother's bower, Was a' clad ower wi gowd, For keeping o her snaw-white feet Frae treading o the mould.

21 Lord Ingram gaed in at ae church-door, Childe Vyet at another, And lightly leugh him Childe Vyet At Lord Ingram, his brother.

22 'O laugh ye at my men, brother? Or do ye laugh at me? Or laugh ye at young Lady Maisry, This night my bride's to be?'

23 'I laugh na at your men, brother, Nor do I laugh at thee; But I laugh at the knightless sport That I saw wi my ee.

24 'It is a ring on ae finger, A broach on ae breast-bane; And if ye kent what's under that, Your love woud soon be dane.'

25 Lord Ingram and his merry young men Out ower the plains are gane, And pensively walkd him Childe Vyet, Him single self alane.

26 When they had eaten and well drunken, And a' men bound for bed, Lord Ingram and Lady Maisry In ae chamber were laid.

27 He laid his hand upon her breast, And thus pronounced he: 'There is a bairn within your sides, Wha may the father be?

28 'Wha ever be your bairn's father, Ye will father it on me; The fairest castle o Snowdown Your morning gift shall be.'

29 'Wha ever be my bairn's father, I'll neer father it on thee; For better love I my bairn's father Nor ever I'll love thee.'

30 Then he's taen out a trusty brand, Laid it between them tway; Says, Lye ye there, ye ill woman, A maid for me till day.

31 Next morning her father came, Well belted wi a brand; Then up it starts him Lord Ingram, He was an angry man.

32 'If your daughter had been a gude woman, As I thought she had been, Cauld iron shoud hae never lien The lang night us between.'

33 'Ohon, alas! my daughter dear, What's this I hear o thee? I thought ye was a gude woman As in the north countrie.'

34 'O had your tongue, my father dear, Let a' your sorrows be; I never liked Lord Ingram, Ye ken ye forced me.'

35 Then in it came him Childe Vyet, Well belted wi a brand; Then up it raise him Lord Ingram, He was an angry man.

36 'Win up, win up, now Lord Ingram, Rise up immediately, That you and I the quarrel try, Who gains the victory.

37 'I hae twa brands in ae scabbard, That cost me mony pound; Take ye the best, gie me the warst, And I'll fight where I stand.'

38 Then up it starts him Childe Vyet, Shook back his yellow hair; The first an stroke Childe Vyet drew, He wounded Ingram sair.

39 Then up it starts him Lord Ingram, Shed back his coal-black hair; The first an stroke Lord Ingram drew, Childe Vyet needed nae mair.

40 Nae meen was made for these twa knights, Whan they were lying dead, But a' for her Lady Maisry, That gaes in mournfu weed.

41 Says, 'If I hae been an ill woman, Alas and wae is me! And if I've been an ill woman, A gude woman I'll be!

42 'Ye'll take frae me my silk attire, Bring me a palmer's weed, And thro the world, for their sakes, I'll gang and beg my bread.

43 'If I gang a step for Childe Vyet, For Lord Ingram I'll gang three; All for the honour that he paid At Marykirk to me.

44 'I'll gang a step for Childe Vyet, For Lord Ingram I'll gang three; It was into my mother's bower Childe Vyet wronged me.'

* * * * *

#A. a.#

1^4, their bonheur.

8^2. to kill.

11^1. boy wanting: see #b#.

11^2. And will.

19^1. and that.

26^1. did stand.

#b.#

1^1. Childe Vyet, and always.

1^3, 2^3. Had... loves.

1^4, honour.

3^1, 3^3, 4^1, 5^1, 5^3. the Lady.

7^1. He said wanting.

7^3. he wanting.

8^2. to sell. 9^3. I'd be.

10^3. Will run.

11^1. I am the boy, says one.

11^2. Will win.

13^1. to Vyet's.

14^1. line that Childe Vyet read.

14^3. line that he.

14^{5, 6}, 15^{1, 2}, as 15.

What ails my one brother, he says, He'll not let my love be? But I'll send to my brother's bridal, The woman shall be free.

15^3. Take four and twenty bucks and ewes.

16^4. was wi wean.

17^1. about the.

18^2. with gold.

18^3, 19^3. keep the lady.

18^4. the mould.

20^1. bells were.

21^1. upon their.

21^4. Says he, You are with bairn.

22^2. came as my wooer.

22^3. your one.

23^1. so did I.

26^1. start him.

28^1, 29^1. for the.

28^3, 29^3. All was for Lady.

30^1. O get to me.

31. For ae.

31^3. All for the honourable marriage that.

#B.#

1^3. Their laid.

2^2. womb.

12, 13 make one stanza in the MS.

15, 16 are written together in three long lines.

_18 did not belong where it stands, cf. #A# 31, #E# 43, 44, but as the text now runs, cannot well change place._

#C.#

Herd's copies differ little except in spelling.

6^4. cannell (cinnamon). I have thought it best to risk ~cammer~, for ~camerik~, ~cambric~, though I have not found the word in English: Danish ~kammer-dug~.

10^3. second copy omits on.

11^2. due (?).

13, 14 are written in one stanza.

19^5. second copy hidies.

25^1. men, Wayets: uncle in second copy.

26-28 precede 23-25.

#D.#

4^2. that paid: cf. #E# 6^2. 10 follows 6 in MS.

#E.#

31^2, 35^2. belted and a brand.

[93] This stanza, which comes in here with flagrant impropriety, is a commonplace, or movable passage. It occurs, as a feature in the ceremony of a brilliant wedding, in 'Fair Mary of Wallington,' #E# 6, 7, and in some copies of 'Lord Thomas and Fair Annet:' see that ballad, note to #A#.

[94] These citations, which might easily be extended, are many of them repeated from Grimm's Rechtsalterthümer, pp. 168-70 of the second edition. Sir Walter Scott has pointed out that on the occasion of the marriage of Maria of Burgundy with the Archduke Maximilian, in 1477, the marriage being by proxy, Ludwig, Pfalzgraf of Vendelz, the bridegroom's representative, was formally bedded with the bride, a naked sword being laid between them. Scott also refers to a play called The Jovial Crew, acted in 1641, in which one of the characters, to enrage another, proposes to be his proxy, marry his love for him, and lay a naked cudgel betwixt them: Sir Tristrem, p. 439, ed. 1833. In an Italian ballad the sword is reduced to a straw: Wolf, Volkslieder aus Venetien, No 95, Bolza, No 56, Ferraro, C. p. monferrini, No 76. In the Spanish and Portuguese romances of 'Gerineldo,' the sultan or king, having found the page asleep with the infanta, lays his sword between the two and retires: Duran, Nos 320, 321; Hardung, I, 101.

[95] Some of the Norse examples were derived from notes of Grundtvig, three others from Liebrecht. Grundtvig cites an ordinance of Frederic II of Denmark, dated 1586, to this effect: Whereas a custom has come in of having a dance during a wedding-repast, which dance those that sit behind the tables are asked to as well as others, and therefore are obliged to step on the tables, on which the victuals are still standing, and whereas this, indecorous of itself, might even prove dangerous to women-folk, and others, who should attempt to jump over the tables, now therefore dancing during meal-time is forbidden until dishes and tables shall have been cleared away: IV, 754. The table-jumping above is mostly done under great excitement, and at weddings, in order that the right parties may come together; but nimble young men in England seem to have taken this short way to their places habitually in old times. Liebrecht cites this curious passage from the Jests of Scogin, Hazlitt's Shakespeare Jest-Books, II, 105: "Scogin did mark the fashions of the court, and among all other things he did mark how men did leap over the table in the king's hall to sit down at dinner and supper, which is not used now." The first edition of Scogin's Jests is of 1565.

67

GLASGERION

#A.# 'Glasgerion,' Percy MS., p. 94; Hales and Furnivall, I, 248.

#B.# 'Glenkindie,' Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 93.

#C.# Kinloch MSS, III, 139.

'Glasgerion' was first printed in Percy's Reliques, III, 43, 1765, and was not thought by the editor to require much correction. Certainly the English ballad is one which it would be hard to mend. Scottish #B# is mainly of good derivation (a poor old woman in Aberdeenshire), and has some good stanzas, but Jamieson unfortunately undertook to improve a copy in which the story was complete, but "the diction much humbled," by combining with it a fragment of another version. Dr John Hill Burton seems, in turn, to have compounded a portion of the ballad as printed by Jamieson with a fragment from tradition (#C#): Kinloch MSS, III, 147.

Cunningham, Songs of Scotland, II, 32, has fused Percy's and Jamieson's copies, as Motherwell remarks, "in a flux of his own which has disfigured and quite changed the features of each."

The grete Glascurion is joined in Chaucer's House of Fame, III, 113-118, with the harpers Orpheus, Orion (Arion), and Chiron, and with Orpheus again by Gavin Douglas, copying Chaucer, in his Palice of Honour, I, 21, vv 15, 16, ed. Small.

Y Bardd Glas Keraint, in English Keraint the Blue Bard (Blue Bard being an appellation of a chief bard, who wore an official robe of blue), is recorded, as Mr Edward Williams informs us, to have been an eminent poet of distinguished birth, son of Owain, Prince of Glamorgan. The English name Glasgerion, Mr Williams further remarks, differs not half so much from Glasgeraint as most Welsh names, as written by Englishmen, do from their true orthography. There is, therefore, at least no absurdity in the suggestion that the Glascurion of Chaucer and the Glasgerion of the ballad may represent the Welsh Glas Keraint.[96]

A peasant lad, tailor's lad, who had overheard the troth-plight of a knight and lady, anticipates the lover in 'Den fule Bondedreng,' Kristensen, II, 25-27; 'Torpardrängen,' Hazelius, Ur de Nordiska Folkens Lif, p. 138; 'Die Betrogene,' Norrenberg, Des dülkener Fiedlers Liederbuch, p. 79. The adventure is jocosely treated in the first two, and does not amount to a tragedy in the other. A groom forestalls Agilulf, King of the Lombards, in the Decameron, III, 2, again without a bloody conclusion.

The marvellous power of the harp in #B# 2, #C# 1 is precisely paralleled in the Scandinavian 'Harpans Kraft,' Arwidsson, No 149, II, 311-17; Afzelius, No 91, III, 144-47; Grundtvig, No 40, II, 65-68; Landstad, No 51, p. 475; Íslenzk Fornkvæði, No 3, p. 18 f. In these the fish is harped out of the water, the young from folk and from fee, the bairn from its mother's womb, the water from the brook, the hind from the wood, the horns from the hart's head, the bark from the tree, the dead out of the mould, etc., etc. These effects are of the same nature as those produced by the harp of Orpheus, and it is to be observed that in the ballad of 'Harpans Kraft' the harper is a bridegroom seeking (successfully) to recover his bride, who has been carried down to the depths of the water by a merman. We have had something like these effects in the 'Twa Brothers,' No 49, #B# 10, I, 439, where Lady Margaret harps the small birds off the briers and her true love out of the grave.[97] There is a fisherman in the Gesta Romanorum who has a harp so sweet that all the fish in the water come to his hand: Oesterley, No 85, p. 413, Madden, No 35, p. 116, No 8, p. 293. Equally potent is pipe, flute, or song in many ballads of various nations; the fish come up from below, the stars are stopped, the brook rises, the pines vail their top, the deer stops in its leap, etc., the musician being sometimes an elf, sometimes an inspired mortal: 'Hr. Tönne af Alsö,' Grundtvig, No 34, II, 15, 19, Afzelius, No 7, I, 33, 128; 'Elvehöj,' Grundtvig, No 46, II, 107-109, Afzelius, No 95, III, 170, Arwidsson, No 147, II, 301; Kudrun, ed. Bartsch, sts 379, 381, 388; the Roumanian 'Salga,' 'Mihu Copilul,' 'Vidra,' Stanley, p. 29, Alecsandri, pp 58, 66, 98 f, the same, Ballades et Chants populaires, pp 118, 168, Murray, pp 44, 53 f, 83; 'El Poder del Canto,' Milá, Romancerillo, No 207, p. 165, Nigra, Rivista Contemporanea, XX, 78; 'Conde Arnaldos,' Wolf and Hofmann, No 153, II, 80. For the soporific effect of such music, as shown in #B# 5, #C# 2, there are parallels in 'Albred Lykke,' who sings a ballad which sets everybody asleep but the young bride who had been stolen from him, Kristensen, I, 281, No 105, sts 11, 12, II, 259 f, No 76, sts 13, 14; 'Den fortryllende Sang,' Grundtvig, No 243, IV, 470, Danish #A# 12, 473, Swedish #G# 25, 26; 'El Rey marinero,' Milá, No 201, p. 151, Briz, I, 117, IV, 15, V, 75; Campbell's West Highland Tales, I, 291 f.

The oath by oak, ash, and thorn, #A# 18, is a relic or trait of high antiquity. We have an oath by the thorn in 'Fair Janet,' #G# 13, 'Young Hunting,' #K# 26; by corn, grass sae green and corn, in 'Young Hunting,' #A# 16, #D# 19, #G# 7. It is to be supposed that the tree, thorn, corn, was touched while swearing, a sod taken up in the hand. See Grimm's Rechtsalterthümer, 2d ed., p. 896 f, p. 117 f.

For drying the sword on the sleeve, #A# 22, see 'Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard.'

Translated by Bodmer, I, 73, after Percy; by Knortz, Lieder und Romanzen Alt-Englands, No 59, after Allingham, p. 358.

#A#

Percy MS., p. 94; Hales and Furnivall, I, 248.

1 Glasgerion was a kings owne sonne, And a harp_er_ he was good; He harped in the kings chamber, Where cuppe and candle stoode, And soe did hee in the queens chamber, Till ladies waxed wood.

2 And then bespake the k_ing_s daughter, And these words thus sayd shee: . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

3 Saide, Strike on, strike on, Glasgerrion, Of thy striking doe not blinne; There's neuer a stroke comes ou_er_ thin harpe But it glads my hart w_i_thin.

4 'Faire might you fall, lady!' q_uo_th hee; 'Who taught you now to speak? I haue loued you, lady, seuen yeere; My hart I durst neere breake.'

5 'But come to my bower, my Glasgerryon, When all men are att rest; As I am a ladie true of my p_ro_mise, Thou shalt bee a welcome guest.'

6 But hom then came Glasgerryon, A glad man, Lord, was hee: 'And come thou hither, Iacke, my boy, Come hither vnto mee.

7 'For the k_ing_s daughter of Normandye, Her loue is granted mee, And beffore the cocke haue crowen, Att her chamber must I bee.'

8 'But come you hither m_aste_r,' q_uo_th hee, 'Lay yo_u_r head downe on this stone; For I will waken you, m_aste_r deere, Afore it be time to gone.'

9 But vpp then rose _tha_t lither ladd, And did on hose and shoone; A coller he cast vpon his necke, Hee seemed a gentleman.

10 And when he came to _tha_t ladies chamber, He thrild vpon a pinn; The lady was true of her p_ro_mise, Rose vp and lett him in.

11 He did not take the lady gay To boulster nor to bedd, But downe vpon her chamber-flore Full soone he hath her layd.

12 He did not kisse _tha_t lady gay When he came nor when he youd; And sore mistrusted that lady gay He was of some churlës blood.

13 But home then came _tha_t lither ladd, And did of his hose and shoone, And cast _tha_t coller from about his necke; He was but a churlës sonne: 'Awaken,' q_uo_th hee, 'my m_aste_r deere, I hold it time to be gone.

14 'For I haue sadled yo_u_r horsse, m_aste_r, Well bridled I haue yo_u_r steed; Haue not I serued a good breakfast, When time comes I haue need.'

15 But vp then rose good Glasgerryon, And did on both hose and shoone, And cast a coller about his necke; He was a k_ingë_s sonne.

16 And when he came to _tha_t la_dies_ chamber, He thrild vpon a pinn; The la_dy_ was more then true of p_ro_mise, Rose vp and let him in.

17 Saies, Whether haue you left w_i_th me Yo_u_r braclett or yo_u_r gloue? Or are you returned backe againe To know more of my loue?'

18 Glasgerryon swore a full great othe, By oake and ashe and thorne, 'Lady, I was neuer in yo_u_r chamber Sith the time that I was borne.'

19 'O then it was yo_u_r litle foote-page Falsly hath beguiled me:' And then shee pulld forth a litle pen-kniffe, _Tha_t hanged by her knee, Says, There shall neuer noe churlës blood Spring w_i_thin my body.

20 But home then went Glasgerryon, A woe man, good [Lord], was hee; Sayes, Come hither, thou Iacke, my boy, Come thou hither to me.

21 Ffor if I had killed a man to-night, Iacke, I wold tell it thee; But if I haue not killed a man to-night, Iacke, thou hast killed three!

22 And he puld out his bright browne sword, And dryed it on his sleeue, And he smote off that lither ladds head, And asked noe man noe leaue.

23 He sett the swords poynt till his brest, The pumill till a stone; Thorrow _tha_t falsenese of _tha_t lither ladd These three liues werne all gone.

B

Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 93, taken from the recitation of an old woman by Professor Scott, of Aberdeen, and "somewhat improved" by a fragment communicated by the Rev. William Gray, of Lincoln.

1 Glenkindie was ance a harper gude, He harped to the king; And Glenkindie was ance the best harper That ever harpd on a string.

2 He'd harpit a fish out o saut water, Or water out o a stane, Or milk out o a maiden's breast, That bairn had never nane.

3 He's taen his harp intil his hand, He harpit and he sang, And ay as he harpit to the king, To haud him unthought lang.

4 'I'll gie you a robe, Glenkindie, A robe o the royal pa, Gin ye will harp i the winter's night Afore my nobles a'.'

* * * * * * *

5 He's taen his harp intill his hand, He's harpit them a' asleep, Except it was the young countess, That love did waukin keep.

6 And first he has harpit a grave tune, And syne he has harpit a gay, And mony a sich atween hands I wat the lady gae.

7 Says, Whan day is dawen, and cocks hae crawen, And wappit their wings sae wide, It's ye may come to my bower-door, And streek you by my side.

8 But look that ye tell na Gib, your man, For naething that ye dee; For, an ye tell him Gib, your man, He'll beguile baith you and me.

9 He's taen his harp intill his hand, He harpit and he sang, And he is hame to Gib, his man, As fast as he could gang.

10 'O mith I tell you, Gib, my man, Gin I a man had slain?' 'O that ye micht, my gude master, Altho ye had slain ten.'

11 'Then tak ye tent now, Gib, my man, My bidden for to dee; And but an ye wauken me in time, Ye sall be hangit hie.

12 'Whan day has dawen, and cocks hae crawen, And wappit their wings sae wide, I'm bidden gang till yon lady's bower, And streek me by her side.'

13 'Gae hame to your bed, my good master; Ye've waukit, I fear, oer lang; For I'll wauken you in as good time As ony cock i the land.'

14 He's taen his harp intill his hand, He harpit and he sang, Until he harpit his master asleep, Syne fast awa did gang.

15 And he is till that lady's bower, As fast as he could rin; When he cam till that lady's bower, He chappit at the chin.

16 'O wha is this,' says that lady, 'That opens nae and comes in?' 'It's I, Glenkindie, your ain true-love, O open and lat me in!'

17 She kent he was nae gentle knicht That she had latten in, For neither when he gaed nor cam, Kist he her cheek or chin.

18 He neither kist her when he cam, Nor clappit her when he gaed, And in and at her bower window, The moon shone like the gleed.

19 'O ragged is your hose, Glenkindie, And riven is your sheen, And reaveld is your yellow hair, That I saw late yestreen.'

20 'The stockings they are Gib, my man's, They came first to my hand, And this is Gib, my man's shoon, At my bed-feet they stand; I've reavelld a' my yellow hair Coming against the wind.'

21 He's taen the harp intill his hand, He harpit and he sang, Until he cam to his master, As fast as he could gang.

22 'Won up, won up, my good master, I fear ye sleep oer lang; There's nae a cock in a' the land But has wappit his wings and crawn.'

23 Glenkindie 's tane his harp in hand, He harpit and he sang, And he has reachd the lady's bower Afore that eer he blan.

24 When he cam to the lady's bower, He chappit at the chin: 'O wha is that at my bower-door, That opens na and comes in?' 'It's I, Glenkindie, your ain true-love, And in I canna win.'

* * * * * * *

25 'Forbid it, forbid it,' says that lady, 'That ever sic shame betide, That I should first be a wild loon's lass, And than a young knight's bride.'

26 He's taen his harp intill his hand, He harpit and he sang, And he is hame to Gib, his man, As fast as he could gang.

27 'Come forth, come forth, now, Gib, my man, Till I pay you your fee; Come forth, come forth, now, Gib, my man, Weel payit sall ye be.'

28 And he has taen him Gib, his man, And he has hangd him hie, And he's hangit him oer his ain yate, As high as high could be.

29 There was nae pity for that lady, For she lay cald and dead, But a' was for him, Glenkindie, In bower he must go mad.

C

Kinloch's MSS, III, 139, in the handwriting of John Hill Burton.

1 Glenkinnie was as good a harper As ever harpet tone; He harpet fish out o the sea-flood, And water out of a dry loan, And milk out o the maiden's breast That bairn had never neen.

2 He harpit i the king's palace, He harpit them a' asleep, Unless it were Burd Bell alone, And she stud on her feet.

3 'Ye will do ye home, Glenkinnie, And ye will take a sleep, And ye will come to my bower-door Before the cock's crowing.'

4 He's taen out his milk-white steed, And fast away rode he, Till he came to his ain castle, Where gold glanced never so hie.

5 'Might I tell ye, Jeck, my man, Gin I had slain a man?' 'Deed might [ye], my good master, Altho ye had slain ten.'

6 'I've faun in love wi a gay ladie, She's daughter to the Queen, And I maun be at her bower-door Before the cock's crowing.'

7 He's taen out his master's steed, And fast awa rode he, Until he cam to Burd Bell's door, Where gold glanced never so hie.

8 When he came to Burd Bell's door, He tirled at the pin, And up she rose, away she goes, To let Glenkinnie in.

9 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . That I combed out yestreen.

* * * * * * *

10 She looked out at a shot-window, Atween her and the meen: 'There is twa lovers beguiled the night, And I fear I am ane.

11 'Ye shall na hae to say, Glenkindie, When you sit at the wine, That once you loved a queen's daughter, And she was your footman's quean.'

* * * * * * *

* * * * *

#A.#

1^4. cappe... yoode.

1^{5, 6}, 2^{1, 2} make a stanza in the MS.

3^3. this harpe.

4^1. him fall?

4^3. 7 yeere.

6^1. whom then.

7^{3, 4}. & at her chamber must I bee beffore the cocke haue crowen.

10^2. pinn: one stroke of the n is left out, as frequently, in the MS. Furnivall.

11^2. nor noe.

14^4. times.

16^4. him im.

17^1. you you.

17^3. you are.

21^4. killed 3.

22^3. head: there is a tag to the ~d~ as if for ~s~. Furnivall.

23^4. these 3.

#B.#

_1^{3, 4}, 2 are cited by Jamieson in the Scots Magazine, October, 1803, p. 698, as the beginning of a fragment [Gray's], with only this variation_:

Glenkindie was ance the best harper.

He has, therefore, combined the two versions here.

Stanza 4, as published, is the first of "another copy [Scott's], in which the story is complete, but, it having been written from the recitation of a poor old woman in Aberdeenshire, the diction has been much humbled. It begins:

'I'll gie you a robe, Glenkindy, A robe o the royal pa, Gin ye will harp i the winter's night Afore my nobles a'.'

(~Robe~ is misprinted ~rolu~).

After 4 follows this stanza, which, with but a word or two of difference, is the first of '~Brown Robin~,' where, no doubt, it belongs, but not here:

And the king but and his nobles a' Sat birling at the wine, And he wad hae but his ae dochter To wait on them at dine.