THE LORD OF LEARNE

The Text is from the Percy Folio MS., with the spelling modernised, except in two or three instances for the sake of the rhyme (13.4) or metre (102.2). Other alterations, as suggested by Child, are noted. Apart from the irregularities of metre, this ballad is remarkable for the large proportion of 'e' rhymes, which are found in 71 stanzas, or two-thirds of the whole. The redundant 'that,' which is a feature of the Percy Folio, also occurs frequently—in eleven places, three of which are in optative sentences (8.2, 14.4, 91.4).

The ballad is more commonly known as The Lord of Lorne, under which title we find it registered in the Stationers' Company on October 6, 1580. Guilpin refers to it in his Skialethia (1598), Satire 1, ll. 107-108:—

'... the old ballad of the Lord of Lorne Whose last line in King Harry's day was born.'

Probably this implies little more than that the ballad was known in Henry VIII.'s day. Three broadsides are known, two in the Roxburghe and one in the Pepys collection. Both the Roxburghe ballads are later than the Folio version.

The Story is derived from that of Roswall and Lillian. Roswall, the king's son, of Naples, overhearing three lords bewailing their long imprisonment, promised to set them free, and did so by stealing the keys from under the king's pillow at night. The king, on hearing of their escape, vowed to slay at sight the man who had set them free. The queen, however, interceding for her son, Roswall was banished under charge of a steward. From this point our ballad follows the romance fairly closely. Roswall and the steward, after changing places, entered the kingdom of Bealm. At length Roswall, under the name Dissawar (see 29.2, etc.), became chamberlain to the Princess Lillian, and she fell in love with him. The King of Bealm meanwhile sent to the King of Naples, proposing to wed his daughter to the young prince of Naples, and the Neapolitan king assented. A joust was proclaimed, and Lillian told Dissawar to joust for her; but he preferred to go a-hunting. However, in the wood he found the three knights he had helped to escape, and they equipped him for the three days' tourney, in which he defeated the steward. He did not, however, proclaim himself, and Lillian was forced to ask the king herself for Dissawar; but her father married her to the steward. During the wedding feast the three Neapolitan lords appeared, but would not acknowledge the steward as their prince, and went in search of Roswall, who told the king of the steward's treachery, and announced himself to be the victor of the jousts. The steward was hanged and Roswall married to Lillian.

Other romances and stories exist, with similar foundations, especially amongst the Slavic nations. But the best known is the Goose-girl (Die Gaense-magd) of the Grimms, where the sexes are reversed. A connection may be traced between the horse Falada's head and the gelding of the ballad; and the trick of a person, who is sworn to secrecy, divulging the secret to some object (as the gelding, here; but more often a stove or oven) in the presence of witnesses has obtained a wide vogue.

THE LORD OF LEARNE

1. It was the worthy lord of Learne, He was a lord of a high degree; He had no more children but one son, He set him to school to learn courtesy.

2. Learning did so proceed with that child— I tell you all in verity— He learned more upon one day Than other children did on three.

3. And then bespake the school-master, Unto the lord of Learne said he, 'I think thou be some stranger born, For the Holy Ghost remains with thee.'

4. He said, 'I am no stranger born, Forsooth, master, I tell it to thee, It is a gift of Almighty God Which He hath given unto me.'

5. The school-master turn'd him round about, His angry mind he thought to assuage, For the child could answer him so quickly, And was of so tender year of age.

6. The child, he caused a steed to be brought, A golden bridle done him upon; He took his leave of his schoolfellows, And home the child that he is gone.

7. And when he came before his father, He fell low down upon his knee, 'My blessing, father, I would ask, If Christ would grant you would give it me.'

8. 'Now God thee bless, my son and my heir, His servant in heaven that thou may be! What tidings hast thou brought me, child, Thou art comen home so soon to me?'

9. 'Good tidings, father, I have you brought, Good tidings I hope it is to me; The book is not in all Scotland, But I can read it before your eye.'

10. A joyed man his father was, Even the worthy lord of Learne; 'Thou shalt go into France, my child, The speeches of all strange lands to learn.'

11. But then bespake the child his mother— The lady of Learne and then was she— Says, 'Who must be his well good guide, When he goes into that strange country?'

12. And then bespake that bonny child Untill his father tenderly, Says, 'Father, I'll have the hend steward, For he hath been true to you and me.'

13. The lady to counsel the steward did take, And counted down a hundred pounds there, Says, 'Steward, be true to my son and my heir, And I will give thee mickle mere.'

14. 'If I be not true to my master,' he said, 'Christ himself be not true to me! If I be not true to my lord and master, An ill death that I may die!'

15. The lord of Learne did apparel his child With brooch, and ring, and many a thing; The apparel he had his body upon, They say was worth a squire's living.

16. The parting of the young lord of Learne With his father, his mother, his fellows dear, Would have made a man's heart for to change, If a Jew born that he were.

17. The wind did serve, and they did sail Over the sea into France land: He used the child so hardly, He would let him have never a penny to spend.

18. And meat he would let the child have none, Nor money to buy none truly; The boy was hungry and thirsty both; Alas! it was the more pity.

19. He laid him down to drink the water That was so low beneath the brim; He was wont to have drunk both ale and wine, Then was fain of the water so thin.

20. And as he was drinking of the water That ran so low beneath the brim, So ready was the false steward To drown the bonny boy therein.

21. 'Have mercy on me, worthy steward! My life,' he said, 'lend it to me! And all that I am heir upon,' Says, 'I will give unto thee.'

22. Mercy to him the steward did take, And pull'd the child out of the brim; Ever alack! the more pity, He took his clothes even from him.

23. Says, 'Do thou me off that velvet gown, The crimson hose beneath thy knee, And do me off thy cordivant shoon Are buckled with the gold so free.

24. 'Do thou me off thy satin doublet, Thy shirtband wrought with glistering gold, And do me off thy golden chain About thy neck so many a fold.

25. 'Do thou me off thy velvet hat With feather in that is so fine, All unto thy silken shirt That's wrought with many a golden seam.'

26. The child before him naked stood, With skin as white as lily flower; For his worthy lord's beauty He might have been a lady's paramour.

27. He put upon him a leather coat, And breeches of the same beneath the knee, And sent that bonny child him fro, Service for to crave, truly.

28. He pull'd then forth a naked sword That hange[d] full low then by his side, 'Turn thy name, thou villain,' he said, 'Or else this sword shall be thy guide.'

29. 'What must be my name, worthy steward? I pray thee now tell it me.' 'Thy name shall be poor Disaware, To tend sheep on a lonely lea.'

30. The bonny child, he went him fro, And looked to himself truly, Saw his apparel so simple upon; O Lord! he weeped tenderly.

31. Unto a shepherd's house that child did go, And said, 'Sir, God you save and see! Do you not want a servant boy To tend your sheep on a lonely lea?'

32. 'Where was thou born?' the shepherd said, 'Where, my boy, or in what country?' 'Sir,' he said, 'I was born in fair Scotland That is so far beyond the sea.'

33. 'I have no child,' the shepherd said, 'My boy, thou'st tarry and dwell with me; My living,' he said, 'and all my goods, I'll make thee heir [of] after me.'

34. And then bespake the shepherd's wife, To the lord of Learne thus did she say, 'Go thy way to our sheep,' she said, 'And tend them well both night and day.'

35. It was a sore office, O Lord, for him That was a lord born of a great degree! As he was tending his sheep alone, Neither sport nor play could he.

36. Let us leave talking of the lord of Learne, And let all such talking go; Let us talk more of the false steward That caused the child all this woe.

37. He sold this lord of Learne his clothes For five hundred pounds to his pay [there], And bought himself a suit of apparel, Might well beseem a lord to wear.

38. When he that gorgeous apparel bought That did so finely his body upon, He laughed the bonny child to scorn That was the bonny lord of Learne.

39. He laughed that bonny boy to scorne; Lord! pity it was to hear! I have heard them say, and so have you too, That a man may buy gold too dear.

40. When that he had all that gorgeous apparel That did so finely his body upon, He went a wooing to the duke's daughter of France, And called himself the lord of Learne.

41. The duke of France heard tell of this; To his place that worthy lord was come truly; He entertain'd him with a quart of red Rhenish wine. Says, 'Lord of Learne, thou art welcome to me!'

42. Then to supper that they were set, Lords and ladies in their degree; The steward was set next the duke of France; An unseemly sight it was to see.

43. Then bespake the duke of France, Unto the lord of Learne said he there, Says, 'Lord of Learne, if thou'll marry my daughter, I'll mend thy living five hundred pounds a year.'

44. Then bespake that lady fair, Answered her father so alone, That she would be his married wife If he would make her Lady of Learne.

45. Then hand in hand the steward her he took, And plight that lady his troth alone, That she should be his married wife, And he would make her the lady of Learne.

46. Thus that night it was gone, The other day was come truly. The lady would see the roe-buck run Up hills and dales and forest free.

47. Then she was ware of the young lord of Learne Tending sheep under a briar, truly; And thus she called unto her maids, And held her hands up thus on high, Says, 'Fetch me yond shepherd's boy, I'll know why he doth mourn, truly.'

48. When he came before that lady fair He fell down upon his knee; He had been so well brought up He needed not to learn courtesy.

49. 'Where wast thou born, thou bonny boy, Where or in what country?' 'Madam, I was born in fair Scotland, That is so far beyond the sea.'

50. 'What is thy name, thou bonny boy? I pray thee tell it unto me.' 'My name,' he says, 'is poor Disaware, That tends sheep on a lonely lea.'

51. 'One thing thou must tell me, bonny boy, Which I must needs ask of thee: Dost not thou know the young lord of Learne? He is come a wooing into France to me.'

52. 'Yes, that I do, madam,' he said; And then he wept most tenderly; 'The lord of Learne is a worthy lord, If he were at home in his own country.'

53. 'What ails thee to weep, my bonny boy? Tell me or ere I part thee fro.' 'Nothing but for a friend, madam, That's dead from me many a year ago.'

54. A loud laughter the lady laughed; O Lord, she smiled wondrous high; 'I have dwelled in France since I was born; Such a shepherd's boy I did never see.

55. 'Wilt thou not leave thy sheep, my child, And come unto service unto me? And I will give thee meat and fee, And my chamberlain thou shalt be.'

56. 'Then I will leave my sheep, madam,' he said, 'And come into service unto thee; If you will give me meat and fee, Your chamberlain that I may be.'

57. When the lady came before her father, She fell low down upon her knee; 'Grant me, father,' the lady said, 'This boy my chamberlain to be.'

58. 'But O nay, nay,' the duke did say, 'So, my daughter, it may not be; The lord that is come a wooing to you Will be offended with you and me.'

59. Then came down the false steward Which called himself the lord of Learne, truly: When he looked that bonny boy upon, An angry man i-wis was he.

60. 'Where was thou born, thou vagabond? 'Where?' he said, 'and in what country?' Says, 'I was born in fair Scotland That is so far beyond the sea.'

61. 'What is thy name, thou vagabond? Have done quickly, and tell it to me.' 'My name,' he says, 'is poor Disaware; I tend sheep on the lonely lea.' 'Thou art a thief,' the steward said, 'And so in the end I will prove thee.'

62. Then bespake the lady fair, 'Peace, lord of Learne! I do pray thee; For if no love you show this child, No favour can you have of me.'

63. 'Will you believe me, lady fair, When the truth I do tell ye? At Aberdonie beyond the sea His father he robbed a hundred [and] three.'

64. But then bespake the duke of France Unto the boy so tenderly, Says, 'Boy, if thou love horses well, My stable groom I will make thee.'

65. And thus that that did pass upon Till the twelve months did draw to an end; The boy applied his office so well, Every man became his friend.

66. He went forth early one morning To water a gelding at the water so free; The gelding up, and with his head He hit the child above his eye.

67. 'Woe be to thee, thou gelding!' he said, 'And to the mare that foaled thee! Thou has stricken the lord of Learne A little tiny above the eye.

68. 'First night after I was born, a lord I was; An earl after my father doth die; My father is the worthy lord of Learne; His child he hath no more but me; He sent me over the sea with the false steward, And thus that he hath beguiled me.'

69. The lady [wa]s in her garden green, Walking with her maids, truly, And heard the boy this mourning make, And went to weeping truly.

70. 'Sing on thy song, thou stable groom, I pray thee do not let for me, And as I am a true lady I will be true unto thee.'

71. 'But nay, now nay, madam!' he said, 'So that it may not be, I am ta'en sworn upon a book, And forsworn I will not be.'

72. 'Sing on thy song to thy gelding And thou dost not sing to me; And as I am a true lady I will ever be true unto thee.'

73. He said, 'Woe be to thee, gelding, And to the mare that foaled thee! For thou hast stricken the lord of Learne A little above mine eye.

74. 'First night I was born, a lord I was; An earl after my father doth die; My father is the good lord of Learne, And child he hath no other but me. My father sent me over with the false steward, And thus that he hath beguiled me.

75. 'Woe be to the steward, lady,' he said, 'Woe be to him verily! He hath been above this twelve months' day For to deceive both thee and me.

76. 'If you do not my counsel keep That I have told you with good intent, And if you do it not well keep, Farewell! my life is at an end.'

77. 'I will be true to thee, lord of Learne, Or else Christ be not so unto me; And as I am a true lady, I'll never marry none but thee!'

78. She sent in for her father, the duke, In all the speed that e'er might be; 'Put off my wedding, father,' she said, 'For the love of God, these months three.

79. 'Sick I am,' the lady said, 'O sick, and very like to die! Put off my wedding, father duke, For the love of God, these months three.'

80. The duke of France put off this wedding Of the steward and the lady, months three; For the lady sick she was, Sick, sick, and like to die.

81. She wrote a letter with her own hand, In all the speed that ever might be; She sent over into Scotland That is so far beyond the sea.

82. When the messenger came before the old lord of Learne, He kneeled low down on his knee, And he delivered the letter unto him In all the speed that ever might be.

83. First look he looked the letter upon, Lo! he wept full bitterly; The second look he looked it upon, Said, 'False steward! woe be to thee!'

84. When the lady of Learne these tidings heard, O Lord! she wept so bitterly: 'I told you of this, now good my lord, When I sent my child into that wild country.'

85. 'Peace, lady of Learne,' the lord did say, 'For Christ his love I do pray thee; And as I am a Christian man, Wroken upon him that I will be.'

86. He wrote a letter with his own hand In all the speed that e'er might be; He sent it into the lords in Scotland That were born of a great degree.

87. He sent for lords, he sent for knights, The best that were in the country, To go with him into the land of France, To seek his son in that strange country.

88. The wind was good, and they did sail, Five hundred men into France land, There to seek that bonny boy That was the worthy lord of Learne.

89. They sought the country through and through, So far to the duke's place of France land: There they were ware of that bonny boy Standing with a porter's staff in his hand.

90. Then the worshipful they did bow, The serving-men fell on their knee, They cast their hats up into the air For joy that boy that they did see.

91. The lord of Learne, then he light down, And kissed his child both cheek and chin, And said, 'God bless thee, my son and my heir, The bliss of heaven that thou may win!'

92. The false steward and the duke of France Were in a castle top truly: 'What fools are yond,' says the false steward, 'To the porter makes so low courtesy?'

93. Then bespake the duke of France, Calling my lord of Learne truly, He said, 'I doubt the day be come That either you or I must die.'

94. They set the castle round about, A swallow could not have flown away; And there they took the false steward That the lord of Learne did betray.

95. And when they had taken the false steward, He fell low down upon his knee, And craved mercy of the lord of Learne For the villainous deed he had done, truly.

96. 'Thou shalt have mercy,' said the lord of Learne, 'Thou vile traitor! I tell to thee, As the laws of the realm they will thee bear, Whether it be for thee to live or die.'

97. A quest of lords that there was chosen To go upon his death, truly: There they judged the false steward, Whether he was guilty, and for to die.

98. The foreman of the jury, he came in; He spake his words full loud and high: Said, 'Make thee ready, thou false steward, For now thy death it draws full nigh!'

99. Said he, 'If my death it doth draw nigh, God forgive me all I have done amiss! Where is that lady I have loved so long, Before my death to give me a kiss?'

100. 'Away, thou traitor!' the lady said, 'Avoid out of my company! For thy vile treason thou hast wrought, Thou had need to cry to God for mercy.'

101. First they took him and hang'd him half, And let him down before he was dead, And quartered him in quarters many, And sod him in a boiling lead.

102. And then they took him out again, And cutten all his joints in sunder, And burnt him eke upon a hill; I-wis they did him curstly cumber.

103. A loud laughter the lady laughed; O Lord! she smiled merrily; She said, 'I may praise my heavenly King, That ever I seen this vile traitor die.'

104. Then bespake the duke of France, Unto the right lord of Learne said he there, Says, 'Lord of Learne, if thou wilt marry my daughter, I'll mend thy living five hundred [pounds] a year.'

105. But then bespake that bonny boy, And answered the duke quickly, 'I had rather marry your daughter with a ring of gold, Than all the gold that e'er I blinked on with mine eye.'

106. But then bespake the old lord of Learne, To the duke of France thus he did say, 'Seeing our children do so well agree, They shall be married ere we go away.'

107. The lady of Learne, she was for sent Throughout Scotland so speedily, To see these two children set up In their seats of gold full royally.

[Annotations: 9.2: The line is partly cut away in the MS.: I follow the suggestion of Hales and Furnivall. 10.4: In the MS. the line stands: 'To learn the speeches of all strange lands.' 12.3: 'hend,' kindly, friendly. 13.4: 'mere' = more. 21.2: 'lend,' grant. 22.3: 'Even,' MS. 23.1: etc. 'Do thou off,' take off. 23.3: 'cordivant' = cordwain, leather from Cordova, in Spain. See Brown Robin, 17.4, First Series, p. 161. 25.4: 'Seam': Child's emendation, adopted from the broadside copies, for 'swain' in the MS. 37.2: The last word added by Child: ep. 43.3, 104.2. 39.4: A popular proverb. 42.4: Cp. the horror of 'churles blood' in Glasgerion, 9.5,6 (First Series, p. 5). 60.1: 'Where thou was,' MS. 63.4: The MS. reads '... robbed a 100: 3,' 67.4: 'eye': the MS. gives knee. 68.1: 'after' is superfluous (cp. 74.1), and is probably caught up from the next line. 70.2: 'let,' stop. 78.4, 79.4: 'these': the MS. gives this in each instance: 'months' is probably to be read as a dissyllable, either as 'moneths' or 'monthes.' 85.4: 'Wroken,' avenged. 101.4: 'sod,' soused: cp. The Two Noble Kinsmen, I.3, line 21; 'lead,' cauldron: cp. The Maid and the Palmer, 9.2, p. 154. 'Salting-leads' are still in use. 104.4: 'pounds' inserted to agree with 43.4.]



THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON

The Text is formed by a collation of six broadsides printed between 1672 and 1700: they do not, however, present many variations. Here, if anywhere, one would demand licence to make alterations and improvements. In stanza 12 the rhymes are almost certainly misplaced; and the last stanza is quite superfluous. It would be much more in keeping with ballad-style to end with the twelfth, and many of the variants now sung conclude thus. This ballad is still extremely popular, and not only has it been included in many selections and song-books, but it is also still in oral tradition.

The Story is simple and pre-eminently in the popular vein. Counterparts exist elsewhere in the languages derived from Latin, and in Romaic.

THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON

1. There was a youth, and a well-belov'd youth, And he was a squire's son, He loved the bailiff's daughter dear, That lived in Islington.

2. She was coy, and she would not believe That he did love her so, No, nor at any time she would Any countenance to him show.

3. But when his friends did understand His fond and foolish mind, They sent him up to fair London, An apprentice for to bind.

4. And when he had been seven long years, And his love he had not seen, 'Many a tear have I shed for her sake When she little thought of me.'

5. All the maids of Islington Went forth to sport and play; All but the bailiff's daughter dear; She secretly stole away.

6. She put off her gown of gray, And put on her puggish attire; She's up to fair London gone, Her true-love to require.

7. As she went along the road, The weather being hot and dry, There was she aware of her true-love, At length came riding by.

8. She stept to him, as red as any rose, And took him by the bridle-ring: 'I pray you, kind sir, give me one penny, To ease my weary limb.'

9. 'I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell me Where that thou wast born?' 'At Islington, kind sir,' said she, 'Where I have had many a scorn.'

10. 'I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell me Whether thou dost know The bailiff's daughter of Islington?' 'She's dead, sir, long ago.'

11. 'Then I will sell my goodly steed, My saddle and my bow; I will into some far country, Where no man doth me know.'

12. 'O stay, O stay, thou goodly youth! She's alive, she is not dead; Here she standeth by thy side, And is ready to be thy bride.'

13. 'O farewell grief, and welcome joy, Ten thousand times and more! For now I have seen my own true love, That I thought I should have seen no more.'

[Annotations: 6.2: 'puggish.' 'Pugging' means 'thieving,' and J. W. Ebsworth suggests that here it implies ragged clothing, like a tramp's. 8.2: Five of the broadsides give 'bridal ring.']



GLENLOGIE

The Text is from Sharpe's Ballad Book (1823). It is an extremely popular ballad in Scotland.

The Story.—Lady Jean Melville (in other versions Jean of Bethelnie, in Aberdeenshire), scarce sixteen years old, falls in love at first sight with Glenlogie, and tells him her mind. But he is already engaged, and Lady Jean takes to her care-bed. Her father offers the consolation, usual in such cases, of another and a richer husband. Jean, however, prefers the love of Glenlogie to the euphony of Drumfendrich, and gets her father's chaplain to write a letter to Glenlogie, which is so well indited that it moves him to tears, and all ends happily.

GLENLOGIE

1. Four and twenty nobles sits in the king's ha', Bonnie Glenlogie is the flower among them a'.

2. In came Lady Jean, skipping on the floor, And she has chosen Glenlogie 'mong a' that was there.

3. She turned to his footman, and thus she did say: 'Oh, what is his name? and where does he stay?'

4. 'His name is Glenlogie, when he is from home; He is of the gay Gordons, his name it is John.'

5. 'Glenlogie, Glenlogie, an you will prove kind, My love is laid on you; I am telling my mind.'

6. He turned about lightly, as the Gordons does a': 'I thank you, Lady Jean, my loves is promised awa'.'

7. She called on her maidens her bed for to make, Her rings and her jewels all from her to take.

8. In came Jeanie's father, a wae man was he; Says, 'I'll wed you to Drumfendrich, he has mair gold than he.'

9. Her father's own chaplain, being a man of great skill, He wrote him a letter, and indited it well.

10. The first lines he looked at, a light laugh laughed he; But ere he read through it the tears blinded his e'e.

11. Oh, pale and wan looked she when Glenlogie cam in. But even rosy grew she when Glenlogie sat down.

12. 'Turn round, Jeanie Melville, turn round to this side, And I'll be the bridegroom, and you'll be the bride.'

13. Oh, 'twas a merry wedding, and the portion down told, Of bonnie Jeanie Melville, who was scarce sixteen years old.



KING ORFEO

The Text was derived from Mr. Biot Edmondston's memory of a ballad sung to him by an old man in Unst, Shetland. In the version sung, he notes, there were no stanzas to fill the obvious gap in the story after the first; but that after the fourth and the eighth stanzas, there had been certain verses which he had forgotten. In the first instance, these related that the lady had been carried off by fairies, and that the king, going in search of her, saw her one day among a company that passed into a castle on the hillside. After the eighth stanza, the ballad related that a messenger appeared behind the grey stone, and invited the king in.

The refrain is a startling instance of phonetic tradition, the words being repeated by rote long after the sense has been forgotten. It appears that the two lines are Unst pronunciation of Danish, and that they mean, respectively, 'Early green's the wood,' and 'Where the hart goes yearly.'

In this connection, compare Arthur Edmondston's A View of the Ancient and Present State of the Zetland Islands (1809), vol. i. p. 142: 'The island of Unst was its [pure Norse] last abode; and not more than thirty years ago several individuals there could speak it fluently.' See also Rev. Dr. Barry's History of the Orkney Islands (1805), Appendix No. X., pp. 484-490, a ballad of thirty-five quatrains in Norse as spoken in the Orkneys, the subject of which is a contest between a King of Norway and an Earl of Orkney, who had married the King's daughter, in her father's absence, and without his consent.

The Story.—Doubtless few will recognise in this fragment an offshoot of the classical story of Orpheus and Eurydice. The ballad, however, cannot be said to be derived directly from the classical tale: rather it represents the debris of the mediaeval romance of Orfeo and Heurodis, where the kingdom of Faery (see 4.1) replaces Hades, and the tale is given a happy ending by the recovery of Eurydice (for whom the Lady Isabel is here the substitute). The romance exists as Orfeo and Heurodis in the Auchinleck MS., of the fourteenth century, in the Advocates' Library, Edinburgh; as Kyng Orfew in Ashmole MS. 61, of the fifteenth century; and as Sir Orpheo in Harleian MS. 3810.

KING ORFEO

1. Der lived a king inta da aste, Scowan uerla gruen Der lived a lady in da wast. Whar giorten han gruen oarlac

2. Dis king he has a huntin' gaen, He's left his Lady Isabel alane.

3. 'Oh I wis ye'd never gaen away, For at your hame is doel an' wae.

4. 'For da king o' Ferrie we his daert, Has pierced your lady to da hert.'

*** *** ***

5. And aifter dem da king has gaen, But whan he cam it was a grey stane.

6. Dan he took oot his pipes ta play, Bit sair his hert wi' doel an' wae.

7. And first he played da notes o' noy, An' dan he played da notes o' joy.

8. An' dan he played da goed gabber reel, Dat meicht ha' made a sick hert hale.

*** *** ***

9. 'Noo come ye in inta wir ha', An' come ye in among wis a'.'

10. Now he's gaen in inta der ha', An' he's gaen in among dem a'.

11. Dan he took out his pipes to play, Bit sair his hert wi' doel an' wae.

12. An' first he played da notes o' noy, An' dan he played da notes o' joy.

13. An' dan he played da goed gabber reel, Dat meicht ha' made a sick hert hale.

14. 'Noo tell to us what ye will hae: What sall we gie you for your play?'

15. 'What I will hae I will you tell, And dat's me Lady Isabel.'

16. 'Yees tak your lady, an' yees gaeng hame, An' yees be king ower a' your ain.'

17. He's taen his lady, an' he's gaen hame, An' noo he's king ower a' his ain.

[Annotations: 7.1: 'noy,' grief. 8.1: 'The good gabber reel' is a sprightly dance-tune. 9.1,2: 'wir,' 'wis,' our, us.]



THE BAFFLED KNIGHT

The Text is from Ravenscroft's Deuteromelia (1609), reprinted almost verbatim in Tom Durfey's Pills to Purge Melancholy.

The Story was sufficiently popular not only to have been revived, at the end of the seventeenth century, but to have had three other 'Parts' added to it, the whole four afterwards being combined into one broadside.

In similar Spanish, Portuguese, and French ballads, the damsel escapes by saying she is a leper, or the daughter of a leper, or otherwise diseased. Much the same story is told in Danish and German ballads.

THE BAFFLED KNIGHT

1. Yonder comes a courteous knight, Lustely raking over the lay; He was well ware of a bonny lasse, As she came wand'ring over the way. Then she sang downe a downe, hey downe derry (bis)

2. 'Jove you speed, fayre ladye,' he said, 'Among the leaves that be so greene; If I were a king, and wore a crowne, Full soone, fair lady, shouldst thou be a queen.

3. 'Also Jove save you, faire lady, Among the roses that be so red; If I have not my will of you, Full soone, faire lady, shall I be dead.'

4. Then he lookt east, then hee lookt west, Hee lookt north, so did he south; He could not finde a privy place, For all lay in the divel's mouth.

5. 'If you will carry me, gentle sir, A mayde unto my father's hall, Then you shall have your will of me, Under purple and under paule.'

6. He set her up upon a steed, And him selfe upon another, And all the day he rode her by, As though they had been sister and brother.

7. When she came to her father's hall, It was well walled round about; She yode in at the wicket-gate, And shut the foure-ear'd foole without.

8. 'You had me,' quoth she, 'abroad in the field, Among the corne, amidst the hay, Where you might had your will of mee, For, in good faith, sir, I never said nay.

9. 'Ye had me also amid the field, Among the rushes that were so browne, Where you might had your will of me, But you had not the face to lay me downe.'

10. He pulled out his nut-browne sword, And wipt the rust off with his sleeve, And said, 'Jove's curse come to his heart, That any woman would beleeve!'

11. When you have your own true-love A mile or twaine out of the towne, Spare not for her gay clothing, But lay her body flat on the ground.

[Annotations: 1.2: 'lay' = lea, meadow-land. 4.4: 'divel's mouth.' Skeat has suggested that this metaphor is derived from the devil's mouth always being wide open in painted windows. 7.3: 'yode,' went. 7.4: 'foure-ear'd.' Child suggests, 'as denoting a double ass?' 10.1,2: See First Series, Introduction, p. xlix.]



OUR GOODMAN

The Text is from Herd's MSS., as given by Professor Child to form a regular sequence. The ballad also exists in an English broadside form.

The Story of the ballad has a close counterpart in Flemish Belgium, and in southern France. The German variants, however, have a curious history. The English broadside ballad was translated into German by F. W. Meyer in 1789, and in this form gained such popularity that it was circulated not only as a broadside, but actually in oral tradition,—with the usual result of alteration. Its vogue was not confined to Germany, but spread to Hungary and Scandinavia, a Swedish broadside appearing within ten years of Meyer's translation.

OUR GOODMAN

1. Hame came our goodman, And hame came he, And then he saw a saddle-horse, Where nae horse should be.

2. 'What's this now, goodwife? What's this I see? How came this horse here, Without the leave o' me?' Recitative. 'A horse?' quo' she. 'Ay, a horse,' quo' he.

3. 'Shame fa' your cuckold face, Ill mat ye see! 'Tis naething but a broad sow, My minnie sent to me.' 'A broad sow?' quo' he. 'Ay, a sow,' quo' shee.

4. 'Far hae I ridden, And farer hae I gane, But a saddle on a sow's back I never saw nane.'

5. Hame came our goodman, And hame came he; He spy'd a pair of jack-boots, Where nae boots should be.

6. 'What's this now, goodwife? What's this I see? How came these boots here, Without the leave o' me?' 'Boots?' quo' she. 'Ay, boots,' quo' he.

7. 'Shame fa' your cuckold face, And ill mat ye see! It's but a pair of water-stoups, My minnie sent to me.' 'Water-stoups?' quo' he. 'Ay, water-stoups,' quo' she.

8. 'Far hae I ridden, And farer hae I gane, But siller spurs on water-stoups I saw never nane.'

9. Hame came our goodman, And hame came he, And he saw a sword, Whare a sword should na be.

10. 'What's this now, goodwife? What's this I see? How came this sword here, Without the leave o' me?' 'A sword?' quo' she. 'Ay, a sword,' quo' he.

11. 'Shame fa' your cuckold face, Ill mat ye see! It's but a porridge-spurtle, My minnie sent to me.' 'A spurtle?' quo' he. 'Ay, a spurtle,' quo' she.

12. 'Far hae I ridden, And farer hae I gane, But siller-handed spurtles I saw never nane.'

13. Hame came our goodman, And hame came he; There he spy'd a powder'd wig, Where nae wig shoud be.

14. 'What's this now, goodwife? What's this I see? How came this wig here, Without the leave o' me?' 'A wig?' quo' she. 'Ay, a wig,' quo' he.

15. 'Shame fa' your cuckold face, And ill mat you see! 'Tis naething but a clocken-hen, My minnie sent to me.' 'Clocken hen?' quo' he. 'Ay, clocken hen,' quo' she.

16. 'Far hae I ridden, And farer hae I gane, But powder on a clocken-hen I saw never nane.'

17. Hame came our goodman, And hame came he, And there he saw a muckle coat, Where nae coat shoud be.

18. 'What's this now, goodwife? What's this I see? How came this coat here, Without the leave o' me?' 'A coat?' quo' she. 'Ay, a coat,' quo' he.

19. 'Shame fa' your cuckold face, Ill mat ye see! It's but a pair o' blankets, My minnie sent to me.' 'Blankets?' quo' he. 'Ay, blankets,' quo' she.

20. 'Far hae I ridden, And farer hae I gane, But buttons upon blankets I saw never nane.'

21. Ben went our goodman, And ben went he, And there he spy'd a sturdy man, Where nae man shoud be.

22. 'What's this now, goodwife? What's this I see? How came this man here, Without the leave o' me?' 'A man?' quo' she. 'Ay, a man,' quo' he.

23. 'Poor blind body, And blinder mat ye be! It's a new milking-maid, My mither sent to me.' 'A maid?' quo' he. 'Ay, a maid,' quo' she.

24. 'Far hae I ridden, And farer hae I gane, But lang-bearded maidens I saw never nane.'

[Annotations: 3.2: 'mat,' may. 3.3: 'broad,' brood: i.e. a sow that has a litter. 3.4: 'minnie,' mother. 11.3: 'porridge-spurtle,' stick for stirring porridge. 15.3: 'clocken-hen,' sitting hen. 21.1: 'Ben,' indoors, or into the inner room.]



THE FRIAR IN THE WELL

The Text is taken from Buchan's MSS., the Scots version being rather more condensed than the corresponding English broadside. There is a reference to this ballad in Munday's Downfall of Robert, Earl of Huntington (1598); but earlier still, Skelton hints at it in Colyn Cloute.

The Story can be paralleled in French, Danish, and Persian ballads and tales, but is simple enough to have been invented by almost any people. Compare also the story of The Wright's Chaste Wife by Adam of Cobsam, E.E.T.S., 1865, ed. F. J. Furnivall.

THE FRIAR IN THE WELL

1. O hearken and hear, and I will you tell Sing, Faldidae, faldidadi Of a friar that loved a fair maiden well. Sing, Faldi dadi di di (bis)

2. The friar he came to this maiden's bedside, And asking for her maidenhead.

3. 'O I would grant you your desire, If 't werena for fear o' hell's burning fire.'

4. 'O' hell's burning fire ye need have no doubt; Altho' you were in, I could whistle you out.'

5. 'O if I grant to you this thing, Some money you unto me must bring.'

6. He brought her the money, and did it down tell; She had a white cloth spread over the well.

7. Then the fair maid cried out that her master was come; 'O,' said the friar,' then where shall I run?'

8. 'O ye will go in behind yon screen, And then by my master ye winna be seen.'

9. Then in behind the screen she him sent, But he fell into the well by accident.

10. Then the friar cried out with a piteous moan, 'O help! O help me! or else I am gone.'

11. 'Ye said ye wad whistle me out o' hell; Now whistle your ain sel' out o' the well.'

12. She helped him out and bade him be gone; The friar he asked his money again.

13. 'As for your money, there is no much matter To make you pay more for jumbling our water.'

14. Then all who hear it commend this fair maid For the nimble trick to the friar she played.

15. The friar he walked on the street, And shaking his lugs like a well-washen sheep.

[Annotations: 1.2,4: The burden is of course repeated in each stanza. 15.2: 'lugs,' ears.]



THE KNIGHT AND THE SHEPHERD'S DAUGHTER

The Text is given here from Kinloch's MSS. He gives also three other versions and various fragments. The tale is also found amongst the Roxburghe Ballads, as The Beautifull Shepherdesse of Arcadia, in two broadsides printed about 1655 and 1680. This is the only English version extant. But earlier than any text of the ballad is a quotation from it in John Fletcher's The Pilgrim, iv. 2 (1621). The Scots versions, about a dozen in number, are far more lively than the broadside. Buchan printed two, of sixty and sixty-three stanzas respectively. Another text is delightfully inconsequent:—

'"Some ca' me Jack, some ca' me John, Some ca' me Jing-ga-lee, But when I am in the queen's court Earl Hitchcock they ca' me."

"Hitchcock, Hitchcock," Jo Janet she said, An' spelled it ower agane, "Hitchcock it's a Latin word; Earl Richard is your name."

But when he saw she was book-learned, Fast to his horse hied he....'

Both this version (from the Gibb MS.) and one of Buchan's introduce the domestic genius known as the 'Billy-Blin,' for whom see Young Bekie, First Series, p. 6, ff.; Willie's Lady, p. 19 of this volume; and Cospatrick, p. 26.

The Story.—The King of France's auld dochter, disguised as a shepherdess, is accosted by Sweet William, brother to the Queen of Scotland, who gives his name as Wilfu' Will, varied by Jack and John. He attempts to escape, but she follows him to court, and claims him in marriage from the king. He tries to avoid discovery by pretending to be a cripple, but she knows him, refuses to be bribed, marries him, and finally reveals herself to him.

The denouement of the story is reminiscent of The Marriage of Sir Gawain (First Series, pp. 107-118). A Danish ballad, Ebbe Galt, has similar incidents.

THE KNIGHT AND THE SHEPHERD'S DAUGHTER

1. There was a shepherd's dochter Kept sheep upon yon hill, And by cam a gay braw gentleman, And wad hae had his will.

2. He took her by the milk-white hand, And laid her on the ground, And whan he got his will o' her He lift her up again.

3. 'O syne ye've got your will o' me, Your will o' me ye've taen, 'Tis all I ask o' you, kind sir, Is to tell to me your name.'

4. 'Sometimes they call me Jack,' he said, 'Sometimes they call me John, But whan I am in the king's court, My name is Wilfu' Will.'

5. Than he loup on his milk-white steed, And straught away he rade, And she did kilt her petticoats, And after him she gaed.

6. He never was sae kind as say, 'O lassie, will ye ride?' Nor ever had she the courage to say, 'O laddie, will ye bide!'

7. Until they cam to a wan water, Which was called Clyde, And then he turned about his horse, Said, 'Lassie, will ye ride?'

8. 'I learned it in my father's hall, I learned it for my weel, That whan I come to deep water, I can swim as it were an eel.

9. 'I learned it in my mother's bower, I learned it for my better, That whan I come to broad water, I can swim like any otter.'

10. He plunged his steed into the ford, And straught way thro' he rade, And she set in her lilly feet, And thro' the water wade.

11. And whan she cam to the king's court, She tirled on the pin, And wha sae ready's the king himsel' To let the fair maid in?

12. 'What is your will wi' me, fair maid? What is your will wi' me?' 'There is a man into your court This day has robbed me.'

13. 'O has he taen your gold,' he said, 'Or has he taen your fee? Or has he stown your maidenhead, The flower of your bodye?'

14. 'He has na taen my gold, kind sir, Nor as little has he taen my fee, But he has taen my maidenhead, The flower of my bodye.'

15. 'O gif he be a married man, High hangit shall he be, But gif he be a bachelor, His body I'll grant thee.'

16. 'Sometimes they call him Jack,' she said, 'Sometimes they call him John, But when he's in the king's court, His name is Sweet William.'

17. 'There's not a William in a' my court, Never a one but three, And one of them is the Queen's brother; I wad laugh gif it war he.'

18. The king called on his merry men, By thirty and by three; Sweet Willie, wha used to be foremost man, Was the hindmost a' but three.

19. O he cam cripple, and he cam blind, Cam twa-fald o'er a tree: 'O be he cripple, or be he blind, This very same man is he.'

20. 'O whether will ye marry the bonny may, Or hang on the gallows-tree?' 'O I will rather marry the bonny may, Afore that I do die.'

21. But he took out a purse of gold, Weel locked in a glove: 'O tak ye that, my bonny may, And seek anither love.'

22. 'O I will hae none o' your gold,' she says, 'Nor as little ony of your fee, But I will hae your ain body, The king has granted me.'

23. O he took out a purse of gold; A purse of gold and store; 'O tak ye that, fair may,' he said, 'Frae me ye'll ne'er get mair.'

24. 'O haud your tongue, young man,' she says, 'And I pray you let me be; For I will hae your ain body, The king has granted me.'

25. He mounted her on a bonny bay horse, Himsel' on the silver grey; He drew his bonnet out o'er his een, He whipt and rade away.

26. O whan they cam to yon nettle bush, The nettles they war spread: 'O an my mither war but here,' she says, 'These nettles she wad sned.'

27. 'O an I had drank the wan water Whan I did drink the wine, That e'er a shepherd's dochter Should hae been a love o' mine!'

28. 'O may be I'm a shepherd's dochter, And may be I am nane! But you might hae ridden on your ways, And hae let me alane.'

29. O whan they cam unto yon mill She heard the mill clap: ... ... ... ... ... ...

30. 'Clap on, clap on, thou bonny mill, Weel may thou, I say, For mony a time thou's filled my pock Wi' baith oat-meal and grey.'

31. 'O an I had drank the wan water Whan I did drink the wine, That e'er a shepherd's dochter Should hae been a love o' mine!'

32. 'O may be I'm a shepherd's dochter, And may be I am nane; But you might hae ridden on your ways, And hae let me alane.

33. 'But yet I think a fitter match Could scarcely gang thegither Than the King of France's auld dochter And the Queen of Scotland's brither.'

[Annotations: 8.2: 'weel,' advantage. So, in the comparative, 'better,' 9.2. 19.2: 'twa-fald o'er a tree,' bent double on a stick. 26.4: 'Sned,' cut, lop. 29.2: Two lines wanting in the MS. 30.3: 'pock,' bag. 30.4: 'grey,' i.e. grey meal, barley.]



GET UP AND BAR THE DOOR

The Text is from Herd's Ancient and Modern Scots Songs (1769), which is almost identical with a copy in Johnson's Museum. Another variant, also given in the Museum, was contributed by Burns, who made it shorter and more dramatic.

The Story of this farcical ballad has long been popular in many lands, European and Oriental, and has been introduced as an episode in English, French, and German plays. A close parallel to the ballad may be found in Straparola, Day VIII., first story.

GET UP AND BAR THE DOOR

1. It fell about the Martinmas time, And a gay time it was then, When our goodwife got puddings to make, And she's boil'd them in the pan.

2. The wind sae cauld blew south and north, And blew into the floor; Quoth our goodman to our goodwife, 'Gae out and bar the door.'

3. 'My hand is in my hussyfskep, Goodman, as ye may see; An it shoud nae be barr'd this hundred year, It's no be barr'd for me.'

4. They made a paction 'tween them twa, They made it firm and sure, That the first word whae'er shoud speak, Shoud rise and bar the door.

5. Then by there came two gentlemen, At twelve o'clock at night, And they could neither see house nor hall, Nor coal nor candle-light.

6. 'Now whether is this a rich man's house, Or whether is it a poor?' But ne'er a word wad ane o' them speak, For barring of the door.

7. And first they ate the white puddings, And then they ate the black; Tho' muckle thought the goodwife to hersel', Yet ne'er a word she spake.

8. Then said the one unto the other, 'Here, man, tak ye my knife; Do ye tak aff the auld man's beard, And I'll kiss the goodwife.'

9. 'But there's nae water in the house, And what shall we do than?' 'What ails ye at the pudding-broo, That boils into the pan?'

10. O up then started our goodman, An angry man was he: 'Will ye kiss my wife before my een, And sca'd me wi' pudding-bree?'

11. Then up and started our goodwife, Gi'ed three skips on the floor: 'Goodman, you've spoken the foremost word, Get up and bar the door.'

[Annotations: 3.1: 'hussyfskep' = housewife's skep, a straw basket for meal. 6.4: 'For,' i.e. to prevent: cp. Child Waters, 28.6 (First Series, p. 41). 9.3: 'what ails ye,' etc. = why not use the pudding-broth. 10.4: 'sca'd,' scald.]



END OF THE SECOND SERIES

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APPENDIX



THE GREAT SILKIE OF SULE SKERRIE (p. 63)

Since the version given in the text was in type, my friend Mr. A. Francis Steuart of Edinburgh has kindly pointed out to me the following fuller and better variant of the ballad, which was unknown to Professor Child. It may be found in R. Menzies Fergusson's Rambling Sketches in the Far North and Orcadian Musings (1883), pp. 140-141, whence I have copied it, only adding the numbers to the stanzas.

THE GREY SELCHIE OF SHOOL SKERRY

1. In Norway lands there lived a maid, 'Hush, ba, loo lillie,' this maid began; 'I know not where my baby's father is, Whether by land or sea does he travel in.'

2. It happened on a certain day, When this fair lady fell fast asleep, That in cam' a good grey selchie, And set him doon at her bed feet,

3. Saying, 'Awak', awak', my pretty fair maid. For oh! how sound as thou dost sleep! An' I'll tell thee where thy baby's father is; He's sittin' close at thy bed feet.'

4. 'I pray, come tell to me thy name, Oh! tell me where does thy dwelling be?' 'My name it is good Hein Mailer, An' I earn my livin' oot o' the sea.

5. 'I am a man upon the land; I am a selchie in the sea; An' whin I'm far frae every strand, My dwellin' is in Shool Skerrie.'

6. 'Alas! alas! this woeful fate! This weary fate that's been laid for me! That a man should come frae the Wast o' Hoy, To the Norway lands to have a bairn wi' me.'

7. 'My dear, I'll wed thee with a ring, With a ring, my dear, I'll wed wi' thee.' 'Thoo may go wed thee weddens wi' whom thoo wilt; For I'm sure thoo'll never wed none wi' me.'

8. 'Thoo will nurse my little wee son For seven long years upo' thy knee, An' at the end o' seven long years I'll come back an' pay the norish fee.'

9. She's nursed her little wee son For seven long years upo' her knee, An' at the end o' seven long years He cam' back wi' gold an' white monie.

10. She says, 'My dear, I'll wed thee wi' a ring, With a ring, my dear, I'll wed wi' thee.' 'Thoo may go wed thee weddens wi' whom thoo will; For I'm sure thoo'll never wed none wi' me.

11. 'But I'll put a gold chain around his neck, An' a gey good gold chain it'll be, That if ever he comes to the Norway lands, Thoo may hae a gey good guess on hi'.

12. 'An' thoo will get a gunner good, An' a gey good gunner it will be, An' he'll gae oot on a May mornin' An' shoot the son an' the grey selchie.'

13. Oh! she has got a gunner good, An' a gey good gunner it was he, An' he gaed oot on a May mornin', An' he shot the son and the grey selchie.

When the gunner returned from his expedition and showed the Norway woman the gold chain, which he had found round the neck of the young seal, the poor woman, realising that her son had perished, gives expression to her sorrow in the last stanza:—

14. 'Alas! alas! this woeful fate! This weary fate that's been laid for me!' An' ance or twice she sobbed and sighed, An' her tender heart did brak in three.

Note. —Doubtless grey selchie is more correct than great, as in the other version. Some verses were forgotten after stanza 13.



THE LYKE-WAKE DIRGE (p. 88)

'Art thow i-wont at lychwake Any playes for to make?'

John Myrc's Instructions for Parish Priests (circa 1450).

Aubrey's version of The Lyke-Wake Dirge is printed, more or less correctly, in the following places:—

i. Brand. Observations on Popular Antiquities, ed. Ellis (1813), ii. 180-81. (Not in first edition of Brand.)

ii. W. J. Thoms. Anecdotes and Traditions, Camden Society, 1839, pp. 88-90, and notes pp. 90-91, which are reprinted by Britten (see below).

iii. W. K. Kelly. Curiosities of Indo-European Tradition and Folklore, 1863, pp. 116-17.

iv. Edward Peacock. In notes, pp. 90-92, to John Myrc's Instructions for Parish Priests, E.E.T.S., 1868. (Re-edited by F. J. Furnivall for the E.E.T.S., 1902, where the notes are on pp. 92-94.)

v. James Britten. Aubrey's Remains of Gentilisme and Judaisme: the whole MS. edited for the Folklore Society, 1881, pp. 30-32.

Aubrey's remarks and sidenotes are as follow (Lansdowne MS. 231, fol. 114 recto):—

'From Mr. Mawtese, in whose father's youth, sc. about 60 yeares since now (1686), at country vulgar Funerals, was sung this song.

'At the Funeralls in Yorkeshire, to this day, they continue the custome of watching & sitting up all night till the body is inhersed. In the interim some kneel down and pray (by the corps) some play at cards some drink & take Tobacco: they have also Mimicall playes & sports, e.g. they choose a simple young fellow to be a Judge, then the suppliants (having first blacked their hands by rubbing it under the bottom of the Pott) beseech his Lo:p [i.e. Lordship] and smutt all his face. ['They play likewise at Hott-cockles.' —Sidenote.] Juvenal, Satyr II.

"Esse aliquos manes, et subterranea regna, "Et contum, & Stygio ranas in gurgite nigras, "Atq. una transire vadum tot millia cymba.

'This beliefe in Yorkshire was amongst the vulgar (& phaps is in part still) that after the persons death, the Soule went over Whinny moore ['Whin is a furze.' —Sidenote.] and till about 1616 (1624) at the Funerall a woman came [like a Praefica] and sung this following Song.'

Then follow several verses scratched out, and then the Dirge, to which, however, is prefixed the remark,

'This not ye first verse.'

As regards the doubtful reading 'sleete' for 'fleet,' there is curiously contradictory evidence. Pennant, in his Tour in Scotland, MDCCLXIX. (Chester, 1771, pp. 91-92), remarks:—

'On the death of a Highlander, the corps being stretched on a board, and covered with a coarse linen wrapper, the friends lay on the breast of the deceased a wooden platter, containing a small quantity of salt and earth, separate and unmixed; the earth, an emblem of the corruptible body; the salt, an emblem of the immortal spirit. All fire is extinguished where a corps is kept; and it is reckoned so ominous, for a dog or cat to pass over it, that the poor animal is killed without mercy.

'The Late-wake is a ceremony used at funerals: the evening after the death of any person, the relations and friends of the deceased meet at the house, attended by bagpipe or fiddle; the nearest of kin, be it wife, son, or daughter, opens a melancholy ball, dancing and greeting; i.e. crying violently at the same time; and this continues till daylight; but with such gambols and frolicks, among the younger part of the company, that the loss which occasioned them is often more than supplied by the consequences of that night. If the corps remains unburied for two nights the same rites are renewed.'

The Rev. J. C. Atkinson, on the other hand, states the contrary regarding the fire,—see his Glossary of the Cleveland Dialect (1868), p. 595. He supposes 'fleet' to be equivalent to the Cleveland 'flet,' live embers. 'The usage, hardly extinct even yet in the district, was on no account to suffer the fire in the house to go out during the entire time the corpse lay in it, and throughout the same time a candle was (or is yet) invariably kept burning in the same room with the corpse.'

Bishop Kennett, in Lansdowne MS. 1033, fol. 132, confirms Aubrey's gloss of 'fleet' = water, in quoting the first verse of the dirge. He adds, 'hence the Fleet, Fleet-ditch, in Lond. Sax. fleod, amnis, fluvius.'

The 'Brig o' Dread' (which is perhaps a corruption of 'the Bridge of the Dead'), 'Whinny-moor,' and the Hell-shoon, have parallels in many folklores. Thus, for the Brig, the Mohammedans have their Al-Sirat, finer than a hair, sharper than a razor, stretched over the midst of hell. The early Scandinavian mythology told of a bridge over the river Gioell on the road to hell.

In Snorri's Edda, when Hermodhr went to seek the soul of Baldr, he was told by the keeper of the bridge, a maiden named Modhgudhr, that the bridge rang beneath no feet save his. Similarly Vergil tells us that Charon's boat (which is also a parallel to the Brig) was almost sunk by the weight of Aeneas.

Whinny-moor is also found in Norse and German mythology. It has to be traversed by all departed souls on their way to the realms of Hel or Hela, the Goddess of Death. These realms were not only a place of punishment: all who died went there, even the gods themselves taking nine days and nights on the journey. The souls of Eskimo travel to Torngarsuk, where perpetual summer reigns; but the way thither is five days' slide down a precipice covered with the blood of those who have gone before.

The passage of Whinny-moor or its equivalent is facilitated by Hell-shoon. These are obtained by the soul in various ways: the charitable gift of a pair of shoes during life assures the right to use them in crossing Whinny-moor; or a pair must be burned with the corpse, or during the wake. In one of his Dialogues, Lucian makes the wife of Eukrates return for the slipper which they had forgotten to burn.

Another parallel, though more remote, to the Hell-shoon, is afforded by the account of one William Staunton, who, like so many others, was privileged to see a vision of Purgatory and of the Earthly Paradise, on the first Friday after the feast of the Exaltation of the Cross in the year 1409. Accounts of such experiences, it may be remarked here, were popular from the tenth century onwards amongst the Anglo-Saxons and English, especially after the middle of the twelfth century, when the story of the famous 'St. Patrick's Purgatory' was first published. William Staunton relates (Royal MS. 17 B. xliii. in the British Museum) that in one part of Purgatory, as he went along the side of a 'water, the which was blak and fowle to sight,' he saw on the further side a tower, with a fair woman standing thereon, and a ladder against the tower: but 'hit was so litille, as me thowght that it wold onnethe [scarcely] bere ony thing; and the first rong of the ladder was so that onnethe might my fynger reche therto, and that rong was sharper than ony rasor.' Hearing a 'grisly noyse' coming towards him, William 'markid' himself with a prayer, and the noise vanished, and he saw a rope let down over the ladder from the top of the tower. And when the woman had drawn him safely to the top, she told him that the cord was one that he had once given to a chapman who had been robbed.

The whole subject of St. Patrick's Purgatory is extremely interesting; but it is outside our present scope, and can best be studied in connection with the mythology of the Lyke-wake Dirge in Thomas Wright's St. Patrick's Purgatory (1844). The popularity of the story is attested by accounts extant in some thirty-five Latin and English MSS. in the British Museum, in the Bodleian, at Cambridge, and at Edinburgh. Calderon wrote a drama round the myth, El Purgatorio de San Patricio; Robert Southey a ballad; and an early poem of George Wither's, lost in MS., treated of the same subject. Recently the tale has received attention in G. P. Krapp's Legend of St. Patrick's Purgatory, Baltimore, 1900.

A correspondent in Notes and Queries, 9th Ser., xii. 475 (December 12, 1903), remarks that the 'liche-wake' is still spoken of in the Peak district of Derbyshire.



INDEX OF TITLES Page

Adam 123 Allison Gross 9 A Noble Riddle Wisely Expounded 159

Baffled Knight, The 212 Bailiff's Daughter of Islington, The 202 Bonnie George Campbell 95 Bonny Bee Ho'm 100 Bonny Earl of Murray, The 92 Broomfield Hill, The 115 Brown Robyn's Confession 143

Captain Wedderburn 162 Carnal and the Crane, The 133 Cherry Tree Carol, The 129 Clerk Colven 43 Clerk Sanders 66 Clerk's Twa Sons o' Owsenford, The 56 Cospatrick 26

Daemon Lover, The 112 Dives and Lazarus 139

Elphin Knight, The 170

Fair Helen of Kirconnell 104 Fause Knight upon the Road, The 180 Friar in the Well, The 221

Get up and Bar the Door 231 Glenlogie 205 Great Silkie of Sule Skerrie, The 63 Grey Selchie of Shool Skerry, The 235

Jew's Daughter, The 107 Judas 145

Kemp Owyne 16 King John and the Abbot 173 King Orfeo 208 Knight and the Shepherd's Daughter, The 224

Lady Isabel and the Elf-Knight 155 Laily Worm and the Machrel of the Sea, The 12 Lament of the Border Widow, The 197 Lord of Learne, The 182 Lowlands of Holland, The 102 Lyke-wake Dirge 88

Maid and the Palmer, The 152

Our Goodman 215

Queen of Elfan's Nourice, The 6

Saint Stephen and King Herod 125 Sir Hugh, or the Jew's Daughter 107

Tam Lin 47 Thomas Rymer 1 Three Ravens, The 80 Twa Corbies, The 82

Unquiet Grave, The 41

Wee Wee Man, The 24 Wife of Usher's Well, The 60 Willie's Fatal Visit 119

Young Akin 32 Young Benjie 83 Young Hunting 74

INDEX OF FIRST LINES Page

Adam lay i-bowndyn 123 An ancient story Ile tell you anon 174 An eartly nourris sits and sings 64 As I pass'd by a river side 134 As it fell out upon a day 140 As I was wa'king all alone (Wee Wee Man) 24 As I was walking all alane (Twa Corbies) 82

By Arthur's Dale as late I went 100

Clark Colven and his gay ladie 44 Clark Sanders and May Margret 66 Cospatrick has sent o'er the faem 26

Der lived a king inta da aste 209

Fair lady Isabel sits in her bower sewing 157 Four and twenty bonny boys 109 Four and twenty nobles sits in the king's ha' 205

Hame came our goodman 215 Her mother died when she was young 16 Hie upon Hielands 95 Hit wes upon a Scere-thorsday 146

I have a yong suster 163 I heard a cow low, a bonnie cow low 6 In Norway Lands there lived a maid 235 It fell about the Martinmas time 231 It fell upon a Wodensday 143 It was the worthy lord of Learne 184 It was upon a Scere-Thursday (paraphrase) 147 I wish I were where Helen lies 105 'I was but seven year auld 12

Joseph was an old man 129

Lady Margaret sits in her bower door 32

My love has built a bony ship, and set her on the sea 102 My love he built me a bonny bower 98

O Allison Gross, that lives in yon tow'r 9 Of a' the maids o' fair Scotland 84 O hearken and hear, and I will you tell 221 O I forbid you, maidens a' 49 O I will sing to you a sang 56 'O lady, rock never your young son young 75 'O whare are ye gaun? 180 'O whare hae ye been, my dearest dear 113

Seynt Stevene was a clerk 126

The elphin knight sits on yon hill 170 The Lord of Rosslyn's daughter gaed through the wud her lane 164 The maid shee went to the well to washe 153 'The wind doth blow to-day, my love 41 There lived a wife at Usher's Well 60 There was a knight and a lady bright 116 There was a lady of the North Country 159 There was a shepherd's dochter 225 There was a youth, and a well-belov'd youth 202 There were three rauens sat on a tree 80 This ean night, this ean night 90 True Thomas lay o'er yond grassy bank 2 'Twas on an evening fair I went to take the air 119

Willie has taen him o'er the fame 20

Ye Highlands and ye Lawlands 93 Yonder comes a courteous knight 212



Printed by T. and A. CONSTABLE, Printers to His Majesty at the Edinburgh University Press

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Errata (noted by transcriber):

Thomas Rymer, Introduction: Thomas of Erceldoune his prophetic powers were given him by the Queen of Elfland [text unchanged]

Clerk Sanders 4.2, note: it ... part of the door-latch. [A word is missing at line-end]

The Lyke-Wake Dirge 2.4: and Christ recieve thy [thy silly poor] Sawle. [bracketed text is in smaller type above line, inserted between "thy" and "silly": see Note]

Missing or Invisible Punctuation

Thomas Rymer 11.2: 'Lay down your head upon my knee,' [close quote missing] Tam Lin, Introduction: the nereid cried out, 'Let go my child, dog!' [invisible close quote] The Three Ravens 1.7: With a downe derrie, derrie, derrie, downe, downe. [missing or invisible final period (full stop)] King John and the Abbot of Canterbury 14.4: To within one penny of what he is worth. [missing or invisible final period (full stop)] The Bailiff's Daughter of Islington 13.1: 'O farewell grief, and welcome joy, [open quote missing]

THE END