18. With that my lord Barnard came to the dore, And lit a stone upon; He plucked out three silver keys And he open'd the dores each one.

19. He lifted up the coverlett, He lifted up the sheet: 'How now, how now, thou Little Musgrave, Doest thou find my lady sweet?'

20. 'I find her sweet,' quoth Little Musgrave, 'The more 'tis to my paine; I would gladly give three hundred pounds That I were on yonder plaine.'

21. 'Arise, arise, thou Little Musgrave, And put thy clothes on; It shall nere be said in my country I have killed a naked man.

22. 'I have two swords in one scabberd, Full deere they cost my purse; And thou shalt have the best of them, And I will have the worse.'

23. The first stroke that Little Musgrave stroke, He hurt Lord Barnard sore; The next stroke that Lord Barnard stroke, Little Musgrave nere struck more.

24. With that bespake this faire lady, In bed whereas she lay: 'Although thou'rt dead, thou Little Musgrave, Yet I for thee will pray.

25. 'And wish well to thy soule will I, So long as I have life; So will I not for thee, Barnard, Although I am thy wedded wife.'

26. He cut her paps from off her brest; Great pitty it was to see That some drops of this ladies heart's blood Ran trickling downe her knee.

27. 'Woe worth you, woe worth, my mery men all, You were nere borne for my good; Why did you not offer to stay my hand, When you see me wax so wood?

28. 'For I have slaine the bravest sir knight That ever rode on steed; So have I done the fairest lady That over did woman's deed.

29. 'A grave, a grave,' Lord Barnard cry'd, 'To put these lovers in; But lay my lady on the upper hand, For she came of the better kin.'

[Annotations: 3.2: 'pall,' a cloak: some versions read pale. 6.2: 'deight,' i.e. dight, decked, dressed. 15.1: 'thresel-cock,' throstle, thrush. 27.4: 'wood,' wild, fierce.]



THE BONNY BIRDY

Text.—From the Jamieson-Brown MS. Jamieson, in printing this ballad, enlarged and rewrote much of it, making the burden part of the dialogue throughout.

The Story is much the same as that of Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard; but the ballad as a whole is worthy of comparison with the longer English ballad for the sake of its lyrical setting.

THE BONNY BIRDY

1. There was a knight, in a summer's night, Was riding o'er the lee, (diddle) An' there he saw a bonny birdy, Was singing upon a tree. (diddle)

O wow for day! (diddle) An' dear gin it were day! (diddle) Gin it were day, an' gin I were away, For I ha' na lang time to stay. (diddle)

2. 'Make hast, make hast, ye gentle knight, What keeps you here so late? Gin ye kent what was doing at hame, I fear you woud look blate.'

3. 'O what needs I toil day an' night, My fair body to kill, Whan I hae knights at my comman', An' ladys at my will?'

4. 'Ye lee, ye lee, ye gentle knight, Sa loud's I hear you lee; Your lady's a knight in her arms twa That she lees far better nor thee.'

5. 'Ye lee, ye lee, you bonny birdy, How you lee upo' my sweet! I will tak' out my bonny bow, An' in troth I will you sheet.'

6. 'But afore ye hae your bow well bent, An' a' your arrows yare, I will flee till another tree, Whare I can better fare.'

7. 'O whare was you gotten, and whare was ye clecked? My bonny birdy, tell me'; 'O I was clecked in good green wood, Intill a holly tree; A gentleman my nest herryed An' ga' me to his lady.

8. 'Wi' good white bread an' farrow-cow milk He bade her feed me aft, An' ga' her a little wee simmer-dale wanny, To ding me sindle and saft.

9. 'Wi' good white bread an' farrow-cow milk I wot she fed me nought, But wi' a little wee simmer-dale wanny She dang me sair an' aft: Gin she had deen as ye her bade, I wouldna tell how she has wrought.'

10. The knight he rade, and the birdy flew, The live-lang simmer's night, Till he came till his lady's bow'r-door, Then even down he did light: The birdy sat on the crap of a tree, An' I wot it sang fu' dight.

11. 'O wow for day! (diddle) An' dear gin it were day! (diddle) Gin it were day, and gin I were away, For I ha' na lang time to stay.' (diddle)

12. 'What needs ye lang for day, (diddle) An' wish that you were away? (diddle) Is no your hounds i' my cellar. Eating white meal and gray?' (diddle) 'O wow for day,' etc.

13. 'Is nae you[r] steed in my stable, Eating good corn an' hay? An' is nae your hawk i' my perch-tree, Just perching for his prey? An' is nae yoursel i' my arms twa? Then how can ye lang for day?'

14. 'O wow for day! (diddle) An' dear gin it were day! (diddle) For he that's in bed wi' anither man's wife Has never lang time to stay.' (diddle)

15. Then out the knight has drawn his sword, An' straiked it o'er a strae, An' thro' and thro' the fa'se knight's waste He gard cauld iron gae: An' I hope ilk ane sal sae be serv'd That treats ane honest man sae.

[Annotations: 2.4: 'blate,' astonished, abashed. 7.1: 'clecked,' hatched. 8.1: 'A Farrow Cow is a Cow that gives Milk in the second year after her Calving, having no Calf that year.'—Holme's Armoury, 1688. 8.3: 'wanny,' wand, rod: 'simmer-dale,' apparently = summer-dale. 8.4: 'sindle,' seldom. 10.5: 'crap,' top. 10.6: 'dight,' freely, readily. 15.1-4: Cp. Clerk Sanders, 15.]





FAIR ANNIE

The Text is that of Scott's Minstrelsy, 'chiefly from the recitation of an old woman.' Scott names the ballad 'Lord Thomas and Fair Annie,' adding to the confusion already existing with 'Lord Thomas and Fair Annet.'

The Story.—Fair Annie, stolen from the home of her father, the Earl of Wemyss, by 'a knight out o'er the sea,' has borne seven sons to him. He now bids her prepare to welcome home his real bride, and she meekly obeys, suppressing her tears with difficulty. Lord Thomas and his new-come bride hear, through the wall of their bridal chamber, Annie bewailing her lot, and wishing her seven sons had never been born. The bride goes to comfort her, discovers in her a long-lost sister, and departs, thanking heaven she goes a maiden home.

Of this ballad, Herd printed a fragment in 1769, some stanzas being incorporated in the present version. Similar tales abound in the folklore of Scandinavia, Holland, and Germany. But, three hundred years older than any version of the ballad, is the lay of Marie de France, Le Lai de Freisne; which, nevertheless, is only another offshoot of some undiscovered common origin.

It is imperative (in 4.4) that Annie should braid her hair, as a sign of virginity: married women only bound up their hair, or wore it under a cap.

FAIR ANNIE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

15. 'There came a knight out o'er the sea, And steal'd my sister away; The shame scoup in his company, And land where'er he gae!'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Annotations: 15.3: 'scoup,' fly, hasten. 17.4: 'had' = haud, hold. 22.1: 'forbye,' apart. 24.2: 'lilly lee,' lovely lea. 30.4: 'tyne,' lose.]



THE CRUEL MOTHER

The Text is given from Motherwell's Minstrelsy, earlier versions being only fragmentary.

The Story has a close parallel in a Danish ballad; and another, popular all over Germany, is a variation of the same theme, but in place of the mother's final doom being merely mentioned, in the German ballad she is actually carried away by the devil.

In a small group of ballads, the penknife appears to be the ideal weapon for murder or suicide. See the Twa Brothers and the Bonny Hind.

THE CRUEL MOTHER

1. She leaned her back unto a thorn; Three, three, and three by three And there she has her two babes born. Three, three, and thirty-three.

2. She took frae 'bout her ribbon-belt, And there she bound them hand and foot.

3. She has ta'en out her wee pen-knife, And there she ended baith their life.

4. She has howked a hole baith deep and wide, She has put them in baith side by side.

5. She has covered them o'er wi' a marble stane, Thinking she would gang maiden hame.

6. As she was walking by her father's castle wa', She saw twa pretty babes playing at the ba'.

7. 'O bonnie babes, gin ye were mine, I would dress you up in satin fine.

8. 'O I would dress you in the silk, And wash you ay in morning milk.'

9. 'O cruel mother, we were thine, And thou made us to wear the twine.

10. 'O cursed mother, heaven's high, And that's where thou will ne'er win nigh.

11. 'O cursed mother, hell is deep, And there thou'll enter step by step.'

[Annotations: 9.2: 'twine,' coarse cloth; i.e. shroud.]



CHILD WATERS

The Text is here given from the Percy Folio, with some emendations as suggested by Child.

The Story, if we omit the hard tests imposed on the maid's affection, is widely popular in a series of Scandinavian ballads,—Danish, Swedish, and Norwegian; and Percy's edition (in the Reliques) was popularised in Germany by Buerger's translation.

The disagreeable nature of the final insult (stt. 27-29), retained here only for the sake of fidelity to the original text, may be paralleled by the similarly sudden lapse of taste in the Nut-Brown Maid. We can but hope—as indeed is probable—that the objectionable lines are in each case interpolated.

'Child,' as in 'Child Roland,' etc., is a title of courtesy = Knight.

CHILD WATERS

1. Childe Watters in his stable stoode, & stroaket his milke-white steede; To him came a ffaire young ladye As ere did weare womans weede.

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

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

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

5. 'If the child be mine, ffaire Ellen,' he said, 'Be mine, as you doe sweare, Take you Cheshire & Lancashire both, & make that child your heyre.'

6. Shee saies, 'I had rather haue one kisse, Child Waters, of thy mouth, Then I would have Cheshire & Lancashire both, That lyes by north & south.

7. '& I had rather haue a twinkling, Child Waters, of your eye, Then I would have Cheshire & Lancashire both, To take them mine oune to bee!'

8. 'To-morrow, Ellen, I must forth ryde Soe ffar into the north countrye; The ffairest lady that I can ffind, Ellen, must goe with mee.' '& euer I pray you, Child Watters, Your ffootpage let me bee!'

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

10. 'Soe must you doe your yellow lockes Another inch aboue your eye; You must tell no man what is my name; My ffootpage then you shall bee.'

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

12. But all this day Child Waters rode, She ran barffoote thorow the broome! Yett he was neuer soe curteous a knight As to say, 'Put on your shoone.'

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

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

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

16. The salt waters bare vp Ellens clothes, Our Ladye bare vpp her chinne, & Child Waters was a woe man, good Lord, To ssee faire Ellen swime.

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

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

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

20. 'I doe see the hall now, Child Waters, That of redd gold shineth the yates; God giue good then of your selfe, & of your wordlye make!

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

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

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

24. & then bespake Child Waters sister, & these were the words said shee: 'You haue the prettyest ffootpage, brother, That ever I saw with mine eye;

25. 'But that his belly it is soe bigg, His girdle goes wonderous hye; & euer I pray you, Child Waters, Let him go into the chamber with me.'

26. 'It is more meete for a litle ffootpage, That has run through mosse and mire, To take his supper vpon his knee & sitt downe by the kitchin fyer, Then to go into the chamber with any ladye That weares so [rich] attyre.'

27. But when the had supped euery one, To bedd they tooke the way; He sayd, 'Come hither, my litle footpage, Hearken what I doe say!

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

29. Ellen is gone into the towne, & low into the streete: The fairest ladye that shee cold find She hyred in his armes to sleepe, & tooke her in her armes two, For filing of her ffeete.

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

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

32. And vp then rose ffaire Ellen, & gave his steed corne & hay, & soe shee did and the good blacke oates, That he might carry him the better away.

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

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

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

36. & when he came to the stable dore, Full still that hee did stand, That hee might heare now faire Ellen, How shee made her monand.

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

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

[Annotations: 2.2: 'see,' protect. So constantly in this phrase. 18.2: 'yates,' gates. 18.3: In each case the Folio gives '24' for 'four and twenty.' 18.4: 'wordlye make,' worldly mate. 26.6: 'rich' added by Percy. 28.6: 'For filinge,' to save defiling. 30.4: 'say,' essay, attempt. 31.1: 'night.' Child's emendation. Percy read: 'This done, the nighte drove on apace.' 32.3: 'and'; Folio on. 36.4: 'monand,' moaning.]



EARL BRAND, THE DOUGLAS TRAGEDY, and THE CHILD OF ELL

There are here put in juxtaposition three versions in ballad-form of the same story, though fragmentary in the two latter cases, not only because each is good, but to show the possibilities of variation in a popular story. There is yet another ballad, Erlinton, printed by Sir Walter Scott in the Minstrelsy, embodying an almost identical tale. Earl Brand preserves most of the features of a very ancient story with more exactitude than any other traditional ballad. But in this case, as in too many others, we must turn to a Scandinavian ballad for the complete form of the story. A Danish ballad, Ribold and Guldborg, gives the fine tale thus:—

Ribold, a king's son, in love with Guldborg, offers to carry her away 'to a land where death and sorrow come not, where all the birds are cuckoos, where all the grass is leeks, where all the streams run with wine.' Guldborg is willing, but doubts whether she can escape the strict watch kept over her by her family and by her betrothed lover. Ribold disguises her in his armour and a cloak, and they ride away. On the moor they meet an earl, who asks, 'Whither away?' Ribold answers that he is taking his youngest sister from a cloister. This does not deceive the earl, nor does a bribe close his mouth; and Guldborg's father, learning that she is away with Ribold, rides with his sons in pursuit. Ribold bids Guldborg hold his horse, and prepares to fight; he tells her that, whatever may chance, she must not call on him by name. Ribold slays her father and some of her kin and six of her brothers; only her youngest brother is left: Guldborg cries, 'Ribold, spare him,' that he may carry tidings to her mother. Immediately Ribold receives a mortal wound. He ceases fighting, sheathes his sword, and says to her, 'Wilt thou go home to thy mother again, or wilt thou follow so sad a swain?' And she says she will follow him. In silence they ride on. 'Why art not thou merry as before?' asks Guldborg. And Ribold answers, 'Thy brother's sword has been in my heart.' They reach his house: he calls for one to take his horse, another to fetch a priest; for his brother shall have Guldborg. But she refuses. That night dies Ribold, and Guldborg slays herself and dies in his arms.

A second and even more dramatic ballad, Hildebrand and Hilde, tells a similar story.

A comparison of the above tale with Earl Brand will show a close agreement in most of the incidents. The chief loss in the English ballad is the request of Ribold, that Guldborg must not speak his name while he fights. The very name 'Brand' is doubtless a direct derivative of 'Hildebrand.' Winchester (13.2), as it implies a nunnery, corresponds to the cloister in the Danish ballad. Earl Brand directs his mother to marry the King's daughter to his youngest brother; but her refusal, if she did as Guldborg did, has been lost.

The Douglas Tragedy, a beautiful but fragmentary version, is, says Scott, 'one of the few to which popular tradition has ascribed complete locality.' The ascribed locality, if more complete, is no more probable than any other: to ascribe any definite locality to a ballad is in all cases a waste of time and labour.

The Child of Ell, in the Percy Folio, may have contained anything; but immediately we approach a point where comparison would be of interest, we meet an hiatus valde deflendus. Percy, in the Reliques, expanded the fragment here given to about five times the length.

EARL BRAND

(From R. Bell's Ancient Poems, Ballads, etc.)

1. Oh did ye ever hear o' brave Earl Bran'? Ay lally, o lilly lally He courted the king's daughter of fair England All i' the night sae early.

2. She was scarcely fifteen years of age Till sae boldly she came to his bedside.

3. 'O Earl Bran', fain wad I see A pack of hounds let loose on the lea.'

4. 'O lady, I have no steeds but one, And thou shalt ride, and I will run.'

5. 'O Earl Bran', my father has two, And thou shall have the best o' them a'.'

6. They have ridden o'er moss and moor, And they met neither rich nor poor.

7. Until they met with old Carl Hood; He comes for ill, but never for good.

8. 'Earl Bran', if ye love me, Seize this old earl, and gar him die.'

9. 'O lady fair, it wad be sair, To slay an old man that has grey hair.

10. 'O lady fair, I'll no do sae, I'll gie him a pound and let him gae.'

11. 'O where hae ye ridden this lee lang day? O where hae ye stolen this lady away?'

12. 'I have not ridden this lee lang day, Nor yet have I stolen this lady away.

13. 'She is my only, my sick sister, Whom I have brought from Winchester.'

14. 'If she be sick, and like to dead, Why wears she the ribbon sae red?

15. 'If she be sick, and like to die, Then why wears she the gold on high?'

16. When he came to this lady's gate, Sae rudely as he rapped at it.

17. 'O where's the lady o' this ha'?' 'She's out with her maids to play at the ba'.'

18. 'Ha, ha, ha! ye are a' mista'en: Gae count your maidens o'er again.

19. 'I saw her far beyond the moor Away to be the Earl o' Bran's whore.'

20. The father armed fifteen of his best men, To bring his daughter back again.

21. O'er her left shoulder the lady looked then: 'O Earl Bran', we both are tane.'

22. 'If they come on me ane by ane, Ye may stand by and see them slain.

23. 'But if they come on me one and all, Ye may stand by and see me fall.'

24. They have come on him ane by ane, And he has killed them all but ane.

25. And that ane came behind his back, And he's gi'en him a deadly whack.

26. But for a' sae wounded as Earl Bran' was, He has set his lady on her horse.

27. They rode till they came to the water o' Doune, And then he alighted to wash his wounds.

28. 'O Earl Bran', I see your heart's blood!' ''Tis but the gleat o' my scarlet hood.'

29. They rode till they came to his mother's gate, And sae rudely as he rapped at it.

30. 'O my son's slain, my son's put down, And a' for the sake of an English loun.'

31. 'O say not sae, my dear mother, But marry her to my youngest brother.

32. 'This has not been the death o' ane, But it's been that o' fair seventeen.'

THE DOUGLAS TRAGEDY

(From Scott's Minstrelsy)

1. 'Rise up, rise up now, Lord Douglas,' she says, 'And put on your armour so bright; Let it never be said that a daughter of thine Was married to a lord under night.

2. 'Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons, And put on your armour so bright; And take better care of your youngest sister, For your eldest's awa' the last night!'

3. He's mounted her on a milk-white steed, And himself on a dapple grey, With a bugelet horn hung down by his side, And lightly they rode away.

4. Lord William lookit o'er his left shoulder, To see what he could see, And there he spy'd her seven brethren bold Come riding over the lee.

5. 'Light down, light down, Lady Margret,' he said, 'And hold my steed in your hand, Until that against your seven brethren bold, And your father, I mak' a stand.'

6. She held his steed in her milk-white hand, And never shed one tear, Until that she saw her seven brethren fa', And her father hard fighting, who lov'd her so dear.

7. 'O hold your hand, Lord William!' she said, 'For your strokes they are wondrous sair; True lovers I can get many a ane, But a father I can never get mair.'

8. O she's ta'en out her handkerchief, It was o' the holland sae fine, And aye she dighted her father's bloody wounds, That were redder than the wine.

9. 'O chuse, O chuse, Lady Margret,' he said, 'O whether will ye gang or bide?' 'I'll gang, I'll gang, Lord William,' she said, 'For ye have left me no other guide.'

10. He's lifted her on a milk-white steed, And himself on a dapple grey, With a bugelet horn hung down by his side, And slowly they baith rade away.

11. O they rade on, and on they rade, And a' by the light of the moon, Until they came to yon wan water, And there they lighted down.

12. They lighted down to tak' a drink Of the spring that ran sae clear: And down the stream ran his gude heart's blood, And sair she gan to fear.

13. 'Hold up, hold up, Lord William,' she says, 'For I fear that you are slain!' ''Tis naething but the shadow of my scarlet cloak, That shines in the water sae plain.'

14. O they rade on, and on they rade, And a' by the light of the moon, Until they cam' to his mother's ha' door, And there they lighted down.

15. 'Get up, get up, lady mother,' he says, 'Get up, and let me in! Get up, get up, lady mother,' he says, 'For this night my fair ladye I've win.

16. 'O mak' my bed, lady mother,' he says, 'O mak' it braid and deep, And lay Lady Margret close at my back, And the sounder I will sleep.'

17. Lord William was dead lang ere midnight, Lady Margret lang ere day, And all true lovers that go thegither, May they have mair luck than they!

18. Lord William was buried in St. Mary's kirk, Lady Margret in Mary's quire; Out o' the lady's grave grew a bonny red rose, And out o' the knight's a briar.

19. And they twa met, and they twa plat, And fain they wad be near; And a' the warld might ken right weel, They were twa lovers dear.

20. But bye and rade the Black Douglas, And wow but he was rough! For he pull'd up the bonny brier, And flang't in St. Mary's Loch.

[Annotations: 8.3: 'dighted,' dressed.]

THE CHILD OF ELL

(Fragment: from the Percy Folio)

1. ... ... ... ... ... ... Sayes, 'Christ thee saue, good child of Ell, Christ saue thee & thy steede!

2. 'My father sayes he will noe meate, Nor his drinke shall doe him noe good, Till he haue slaine the child of Ell, & haue seene his hart's blood.'

3. 'I wold I were in my sadle sett, & a mile out of the towne, I did not care for your father & all his merrymen.

4. 'I wold I were in my sadle sett & a litle space him froe, I did not care for your father & all that long him to!'

5. He leaned ore his saddle bow, To kisse this lady good; The teares that went them 2 betweene Were blend water & blood.

6. He sett himselfe on one good steed, This lady on one palfray, & sett his litle horne to his mouth, & roundlie he rode away.

7. He had not ridden past a mile, A mile out of the towne, Her father was readye with her 7 brether, He said, 'Sett thou my daughter downe! For it ill beseemes thee, thou false churles sonne, To carry her forth of this towne!'

8. 'But lowd thou lyest, Sir Iohn the Knight, Thou now doest lye of me; A knight me gott, & a lady me bore; Soe neuer did none by thee.

9. 'But light now downe, my lady gay, Light downe & hold my horsse, Whilest I & your father & your brether Doe play vs at this crosse.

10. 'But light now downe, my owne trew loue, & meeklye hold my steede, Whilest your father [and your brether] bold ... ... ...

[Annotations: 1.3: The maiden is speaking. 5.4: 'blend,' blended, mixed. 6.2: 'on': the MS. gives 'of.' 10.3: The rest (about nine stt.) is missing.]



LORD THOMAS AND FAIR ANNET

The Text is from Percy's Reliques (vol. ii., 1765: vol. iii., 1767). In the latter edition he also gives the English version of the ballad earlier in the same volume.

The Story.—This ballad, as it is one of the most beautiful, is also one of the most popular. It should be compared with Fair Margaret and Sweet William, in which the forlorn maid dies of grief, not by the hand of her rival.

A series of Norse ballads tell much the same tale, but in none is the 'friends' will' a crucial point. Chansons from Burgundy, Bretagne, Provence, and northern Italy, faintly echo the story.

Lord Thomas his mither says that Fair Annet has no 'gowd and gear'; yet later on we find that Annet's father can provide her with a horse shod with silver and gold, and four-and-twenty silver bells in his mane; she is attended by a large company, her cleading skinkles, and her belt is of pearl.

LORD THOMAS AND FAIR ANNET

1. Lord Thomas and Fair Annet Sate a' day on a hill; Whan night was cum, and sun was sett, They had not talkt their fill.

2. Lord Thomas said a word in jest, Fair Annet took it ill: 'A, I will nevir wed a wife Against my ain friends' will.'

3. 'Gif ye wull nevir wed a wife, A wife wull neir wed yee': Sae he is hame to tell his mither, And knelt upon his knee.

4. 'O rede, O rede, mither,' he says, 'A gude rede gie to mee: O sall I tak the nut-browne bride, And let Faire Annet bee?'

5. 'The nut-browne bride haes gowd and gear, Fair Annet she has gat nane; And the little beauty Fair Annet haes, O it wull soon be gane.'

6. And he has till his brother gane: 'Now, brother, rede ye mee; A, sall I marrie the nut-browne bride, And let Fair Annet bee?'

7. 'The nut-browne bride has oxen, brother, The nut-browne bride has kye: I wad hae ye marrie the nut-browne bride, And cast Fair Annet bye.'

8. 'Her oxen may dye i' the house, billie, And her kye into the byre, And I sall hae nothing to mysell Bot a fat fadge by the fyre.'

9. And he has till his sister gane: 'Now sister, rede ye mee; O sall I marrie the nut-browne bride, And set Fair Annet free?'

10. 'I'se rede ye tak Fair Annet, Thomas, And let the browne bride alane; Lest ye sould sigh, and say, Alace, What is this we brought hame!'

11. 'No, I will tak my mither's counsel, And marrie me owt o' hand; And I will tak the nut-browne bride; Fair Annet may leive the land.'

12. Up then rose Fair Annet's father, Twa hours or it wer day, And he is gane into the bower Wherein Fair Annet lay.

13. 'Rise up, rise up, Fair Annet,' he says, 'Put on your silken sheene; Let us gae to St. Marie's kirke, And see that rich weddeen.'

14. 'My maides, gae to my dressing-roome, And dress to me my hair; Whaireir yee laid a plait before, See yee lay ten times mair.

15. 'My maides, gae to my dressing-room, And dress to me my smock; The one half is o' the holland fine, The other o' needle-work.'

16. The horse Fair Annet rade upon, He amblit like the wind; Wi' siller he was shod before, Wi' burning gowd behind.

17. Four and twanty siller bells Wer a' tyed till his mane, And yae tift o' the norland wind, They tinkled ane by ane.

18. Four and twanty gay gude knichts Rade by Fair Annet's side, And four and twanty fair ladies, As gin she had bin a bride.

19. And whan she cam to Marie's kirk, She sat on Marie's stean: The cleading that Fair Annet had on It skinkled in their een.

20. And whan she cam into the kirk, She shimmered like the sun; The belt that was about her waist, Was a' wi' pearles bedone.

21. She sat her by the nut-browne bride, And her een they wer sae clear, Lord Thomas he clean forgat the bride, Whan Fair Annet drew near.

22. He had a rose into his hand, He gae it kisses three, And reaching by the nut-browne bride, Laid it on Fair Annet's knee.

23. Up than spak the nut-browne bride, She spak wi' meikle spite: 'And whair gat ye that rose-water, That does mak yee sae white?'

24. 'O I did get the rose-water Whair ye wull neir get nane, For I did get that very rose-water Into my mither's wame.'

25. The bride she drew a long bodkin Frae out her gay head-gear, And strake Fair Annet unto the heart, That word spak nevir mair.

26. Lord Thomas he saw Fair Annet wex pale, And marvelit what mote bee; But whan he saw her dear heart's blude, A' wood-wroth wexed hee.

27. He drew his dagger, that was sae sharp, That was sae sharp and meet, And drave it into the nut-browne bride, That fell deid at his feit.

28. 'Now stay for me, dear Annet,' he sed, 'Now stay, my dear,' he cry'd; Then strake the dagger untill his heart, And fell deid by her side.

29. Lord Thomas was buried without kirk-wa', Fair Annet within the quiere, And o' the tane thair grew a birk, The other a bonny briere.

30. And ay they grew, and ay they threw, As they wad faine be neare; And by this ye may ken right weil They were twa luvers deare.

[Annotations: 4.1: 'rede,' advise. 4.3: 'nut-browne' here = dusky, not fair; cp.:— 'In the old age black was not counted fair.' —Shakespeare, Sonnet CXXVII. 8.4: 'fadge,' lit. a thick cake; here figuratively for the thick-set 'nut-browne bride.' 17.3: 'yae tift,' [at] every puff. 19.2: 'stean,' stone. 19.3: 'cleading,' clothing. 19.4: 'skinkled,' glittered. 24.3,4: i.e. I was born fair. 26.4: 'wood-wroth,' raging mad. 29, 30: This conclusion to a tragic tale of true-love is common to many ballads; see Fair Margaret and Sweet William and especially Lord Lovel. 30.1: 'threw,' intertwined.]



THE BROWN GIRL

The Text of this ballad was taken down before the end of the nineteenth century by the Rev. S. Baring Gould, from a blacksmith at Thrushleton, Devon.

The Story is a simple little tale which recalls Barbara Allen, Clerk Sanders, Lord Thomas and Fair Annet, and others. I have placed it here for contrast, and in illustration of the disdain of 'brown' maids.

THE BROWN GIRL

1. 'I am as brown as brown can be, And my eyes as black as sloe; I am as brisk as brisk can be, And wild as forest doe.

2. 'My love he was so high and proud, His fortune too so high, He for another fair pretty maid Me left and passed me by.

3. 'Me did he send a love-letter, He sent it from the town, Saying no more he loved me, For that I was so brown.

4. 'I sent his letter back again, Saying his love I valued not, Whether that he would fancy me, Whether that he would not.

5. 'When that six months were overpass'd, Were overpass'd and gone, Then did my lover, once so bold, Lie on his bed and groan.

6. 'When that six months were overpass'd, Were gone and overpass'd, O then my lover, once so bold, With love was sick at last.

7. 'First sent he for the doctor-man: "You, doctor, me must cure; The pains that now do torture me I can not long endure."

8. 'Next did he send from out the town, O next did send for me; He sent for me, the brown, brown girl Who once his wife should be.

9. 'O ne'er a bit the doctor-man His sufferings could relieve; O never an one but the brown, brown girl Who could his life reprieve.'

10. Now you shall hear what love she had For this poor love-sick man, How all one day, a summer's day, She walked and never ran.

11. When that she came to his bedside, Where he lay sick and weak, O then for laughing she could not stand Upright upon her feet.

12. 'You flouted me, you scouted me, And many another one, Now the reward is come at last, For all that you have done.'

13. The rings she took from off her hands, The rings by two and three: 'O take, O take these golden rings, By them remember me.'

14. She had a white wand in her hand, She strake him on the breast: 'My faith and troth I give back to thee, So may thy soul have rest.'

15. 'Prithee,' said he, 'forget, forget, Prithee forget, forgive; O grant me yet a little space, That I may be well and live.'

16. 'O never will I forget, forgive, So long as I have breath; I'll dance above your green, green grave Where you do lie beneath.'



FAIR MARGARET AND SWEET WILLIAM

The Text is from a broadside in the Douce Ballads, with a few unimportant corrections from other stall-copies, as printed by Percy and Ritson.

The Story is much the same as Lord Thomas and Fair Annet, except in the manner of Margaret's death.

None of the known copies of the ballad are as early in date as The Knight of the Burning Pestle (a play by Beaumont and Fletcher, first produced, it is said, in 1611), in which the humorous old Merrythought sings two fragments of this ballad; stanza 5 in Act II. Sc. 8, and the first two lines of stanza 2 in Act III. Sc. 5. As there given, the lines are slightly different.

The last four stanzas of this ballad again present the stock ending, for which see the introduction to Lord Lovel. The last stanza condemns itself.

FAIR MARGARET AND SWEET WILLIAM

1. As it fell out on a long summer's day, Two lovers they sat on a hill; They sat together that long summer's day, And could not talk their fill.

2. 'I see no harm by you, Margaret, Nor you see none by me; Before tomorrow eight a clock A rich wedding shall you see.'

3. Fair Margaret sat in her bower-window, A combing of her hair, And there she spy'd Sweet William and his bride, As they were riding near.

4. Down she lay'd her ivory comb, And up she bound her hair; She went her way forth of her bower, But never more did come there.

5. When day was gone, and night was come, And all men fast asleep, Then came the spirit of Fair Margaret, And stood at William's feet.

6. 'God give you joy, you two true lovers, In bride-bed fast asleep; Loe I am going to my green grass grave, And am in my winding-sheet.'

7. When day was come, and night was gone, And all men wak'd from sleep, Sweet William to his lady said, 'My dear, I have cause to weep.

8. 'I dream'd a dream, my dear lady; Such dreams are never good; I dream'd my bower was full of red swine, And my bride-bed full of blood.'

9. 'Such dreams, such dreams, my honoured lord, They never do prove good, To dream thy bower was full of swine, And thy bride-bed full of blood.'

10. He called up his merry men all, By one, by two, and by three, Saying, 'I'll away to Fair Margaret's bower, By the leave of my lady.'

11. And when he came to Fair Margaret's bower, He knocked at the ring; So ready was her seven brethren To let Sweet William in.

12. He turned up the covering-sheet: 'Pray let me see the dead; Methinks she does look pale and wan, She has lost her cherry red.

13. 'I'll do more for thee, Margaret, Than any of thy kin; For I will kiss thy pale wan lips, Tho' a smile I cannot win.'

14. With that bespeak her seven brethren, Making most pitious moan: 'You may go kiss your jolly brown bride, And let our sister alone.'

15. 'If I do kiss my jolly brown bride, I do but what is right; For I made no vow to your sister dear, By day or yet by night.

16. 'Pray tell me then how much you'll deal Of your white bread and your wine; So much as is dealt at her funeral today Tomorrow shall be dealt at mine.'

17. Fair Margaret dy'd today, today, Sweet William he dy'd the morrow; Fair Margaret dy'd for pure true love, Sweet William he dy'd for sorrow.

18. Margaret was buried in the lower chancel, Sweet William in the higher; Out of her breast there sprung a rose, And out of his a brier.

19. They grew as high as the church-top, Till they could grow no higher, And then they grew in a true lover's knot, Which made all people admire.

20. There came the clerk of the parish, As you this truth shall hear, And by misfortune cut them down, Or they had now been there.



LORD LOVEL

'It is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age.'

—Twelfth Night, II. 4.

The Text.—This ballad, concluding a small class of three—Lord Thomas and Fair Annet, and Fair Margaret and Sweet William being the other two—is distinguished by the fact that the lady dies of hope deferred. It is a foolish ballad, at the opposite pole to Lord Thomas and Fair Annet, and is pre-eminently one of the class meant only to be sung, with an effective burden. The text given here, therefore, is that of a broadside of the year 1846.

The Story in outline is extremely popular in German and Scandinavian literature. Of the former the commonest is Der Ritter und die Maid, also found north of Germany; twenty-six different versions in all, in some of which lilies spring from the grave. In a Swedish ballad a linden-tree grows out of their bodies; in Danish ballads, roses, lilies, or lindens. This conclusion, a commonplace in folk-song, occurs also in a class of Romaic ballads, where a clump of reeds rises from one of the lovers, and a cypress or lemon-tree from the other, which bend to each other and mingle their leaves whenever the wind blows. Classical readers will recall the tale of Philemon and Baucis.

For further information on this subject, consult the special section of the Introduction.

Various other versions of this ballad are named Lady Ouncebell, Lord Lavel, Lord Travell, and Lord Revel.

LORD LOVEL

1. Lord Lovel he stood at his castle-gate, Combing his milk-white steed, When up came Lady Nancy Belle, To wish her lover good speed, speed, To wish her lover good speed.

2. 'Where are you going, Lord Lovel?' she said, 'Oh where are you going?' said she; 'I'm going, my Lady Nancy Belle, Strange countries for to see.'

3. 'When will you be back, Lord Lovel?' she said, 'Oh when will you come back?' said she; 'In a year, or two, or three at the most, I'll return to my fair Nancy.'

4. But he had not been gone a year and a day, Strange countries for to see, When languishing thoughts came into his head, Lady Nancy Belle he would go see.

5. So he rode, and he rode, on his milk-white steed, Till he came to London town, And there he heard St. Pancras' bells, And the people all mourning round.

6. 'Oh what is the matter?' Lord Lovel he said, 'Oh what is the matter?' said he; 'A lord's lady is dead,' a woman replied, 'And some call her Lady Nancy.'

7. So he ordered the grave to be opened wide, And the shroud he turned down, And there he kissed her clay-cold lips, Till the tears came trickling down.

8. Lady Nancy she died, as it might be, today, Lord Lovel he died as tomorrow; Lady Nancy she died out of pure, pure grief, Lord Lovel he died out of sorrow.

9. Lady Nancy was laid in St. Pancras' Church, Lord Lovel was laid in the choir; And out of her bosom there grew a red rose, And out of her lover's a briar.

10. They grew, and they grew, to the church-steeple too, And then they could grow no higher; So there they entwined in a true-lovers' knot, For all lovers true to admire.

1.4,5: A similar repetition of the last line of each verse makes the refrain throughout. 10.1: Perhaps a misprint for 'church-steeple top.'—Child.



LADY MAISRY

The Text.—From the Jamieson-Brown MS. All the other variants agree as to the main outline of the ballad.

The Story.—Lady Maisry, refusing the young lords of the north country, and saying that her love is given to an English lord, is suspected by her father's kitchy-boy, who goes to tell her brother. He charges her with her fault, reviles her for 'drawing up with an English lord,' and commands her to renounce him. She refuses, and is condemned to be burned. A bonny boy bears news of her plight to Lord William, who leaps to boot and saddle; but he arrives too late to save her, though he vows vengeance on all her kin, and promises to burn himself last of all.

Burning was the penalty usually allotted in the romances to a girl convicted of unchastity.

LADY MAISRY

1. The young lords o' the north country Have all a wooing gone, To win the love of Lady Maisry, But o' them she woud hae none.

2. O they hae courted Lady Maisry Wi' a' kin kind of things; An' they hae sought her Lady Maisry Wi' brotches an' wi' rings.

3. An' they ha' sought her Lady Maisry Frae father and frae mother; An' they ha' sought her Lady Maisry Frae sister an' frae brother.

4. An' they ha' follow'd her Lady Maisry Thro' chamber an' thro' ha'; But a' that they coud say to her, Her answer still was Na.

5. 'O ha'd your tongues, young men,' she says, 'An' think nae mair o' me; For I've gi'en my love to an English lord, An' think nae mair o' me.'

6. Her father's kitchy-boy heard that, An ill death may he dee! An' he is on to her brother, As fast as gang coud he.

7. 'O is my father an' my mother well, But an' my brothers three? Gin my sister Lady Maisry be well, There's naething can ail me.'

8. 'Your father an' your mother is well, But an' your brothers three; Your sister Lady Maisry's well, So big wi' bairn gangs she.'

9. 'Gin this be true you tell to me, My mailison light on thee! But gin it be a lie you tell, You sal be hangit hie.'

10. He's done him to his sister's bow'r, Wi' meikle doole an' care; An' there he saw her Lady Maisry Kembing her yallow hair.

11. 'O wha is aught that bairn,' he says, 'That ye sae big are wi'? And gin ye winna own the truth, This moment ye sall dee.'

12. She turn'd her right and roun' about, An' the kem fell frae her han'; A trembling seiz'd her fair body, An' her rosy cheek grew wan.

13. 'O pardon me, my brother dear, An' the truth I'll tell to thee; My bairn it is to Lord William, An' he is betroth'd to me.'

14. 'O coud na ye gotten dukes, or lords, Intill your ain country, That ye draw up wi' an English dog, To bring this shame on me?

15. 'But ye maun gi' up the English lord, Whan youre young babe is born; For, gin you keep by him an hour langer, Your life sall be forlorn.'

16. 'I will gi' up this English blood, Till my young babe be born; But the never a day nor hour langer, Tho' my life should be forlorn.'

17. 'O whare is a' my merry young men, Whom I gi' meat and fee, To pu' the thistle and the thorn, To burn this wile whore wi'?'

18. 'O whare will I get a bonny boy, To help me in my need, To rin wi' hast to Lord William, And bid him come wi' speed?'

19. O out it spake a bonny boy, Stood by her brother's side: 'O I would run your errand, lady, O'er a' the world wide.

20. 'Aft have I run your errands, lady, Whan blawn baith win' and weet; But now I'll rin your errand, lady, Wi' sa't tears on my cheek.'

21. O whan he came to broken briggs, He bent his bow and swam, An' whan he came to the green grass growin', He slack'd his shoone and ran.

22. O whan he came to Lord William's gates, He baed na to chap or ca', But set his bent bow till his breast, An' lightly lap the wa'; An', or the porter was at the gate, The boy was i' the ha'.

23. 'O is my biggins broken, boy? Or is my towers won? Or is my lady lighter yet, Of a dear daughter or son?'

24. 'Your biggin is na broken, sir, Nor is your towers won; But the fairest lady in a' the lan' For you this day maun burn.'

25. 'O saddle me the black, the black, Or saddle me the brown; O saddle me the swiftest steed That ever rade frae a town.'

26. Or he was near a mile awa', She heard his wild horse sneeze: 'Mend up the fire, my false brother, It's na come to my knees.'

27. O whan he lighted at the gate, She heard his bridle ring; 'Mend up the fire, my false brother, It's far yet frae my chin.

28. 'Mend up the fire to me, brother, Mend up the fire to me; For I see him comin' hard an' fast, Will soon men' 't up to thee.

29. 'O gin my hands had been loose, Willy, Sae hard as they are boun', I would have turn'd me frae the gleed, And castin out your young son.'

30. 'O I'll gar burn for you, Maisry, Your father an' your mother; An' I'll gar burn for you, Maisry, Your sister an' your brother.

31. 'An' I'll gar burn for you, Maisry, The chief of a' your kin; An' the last bonfire that I come to, Mysel' I will cast in.'

[Annotations: 5.1: 'ha'd' = haud, hold. 9.2: 'mailison,' curse. 11.1: 'is aught,' owns. 15.4: 'forlorn,' forfeit. 20.2: i.e. in driving wind and rain. 21: A stock ballad-stanza. 22.2: 'baed,' stayed; 'chap,' knock. 22.4: 'lap,' leapt. 23.1: 'biggins,' buildings. 29.3: 'gleed,' burning coal, fire. 30.1: 'gar,' make, cause.]





THE CRUEL BROTHER

The Text is that obtained in 1800 by Alexander Fraser Tytler from Mrs. Brown of Falkland, and by him committed to writing. The first ten and the last two stanzas show corruption, but the rest of the ballad is in the best style.

The Story emphasises the necessity of asking the consent of a brother to the marriage of his sister, and therefore the title The Cruel Brother is a misnomer. In ballad-times, the brother would have been well within his rights; it was rather a fatal oversight of the bridegroom that caused the tragedy.

Danish and German ballads echo the story, though in the commonest German ballad, Graf Friedrich, the bride receives an accidental wound, and that from the bridegroom's own hand.

The testament of the bride, by which she benefits her friends and leaves curses on her enemies, is very characteristic of the ballad-style, and is found in other ballads, as Lord Ronald and Edward, Edward. In the present case, 'sister Grace' obtains what would seem to be a very doubtful benefit.

THE CRUEL BROTHER

1. There was three ladies play'd at the ba', With a hey ho and a lillie gay There came a knight and played o'er them a', As the primrose spreads so sweetly.

2. The eldest was baith tall and fair, But the youngest was beyond compare.

3. The midmost had a graceful mien, But the youngest look'd like beautie's queen.

4. The knight bow'd low to a' the three, But to the youngest he bent his knee.

5. The ladie turned her head aside; The knight he woo'd her to be his bride.

6. The ladie blush'd a rosy red, And say'd, 'Sir knight, I'm too young to wed.'

7. 'O ladie fair, give me your hand, And I'll make you ladie of a' my land.'

8. 'Sir knight, ere ye my favour win, You maun get consent frae a' my kin.'

9. He's got consent frae her parents dear, And likewise frae her sisters fair.

10. He's got consent frae her kin each one, But forgot to spiek to her brother John.

11. Now, when the wedding day was come, The knight would take his bonny bride home.

12. And many a lord and many a knight Came to behold that ladie bright.

13. And there was nae man that did her see, But wish'd himself bridegroom to be.

14. Her father dear led her down the stair, And her sisters twain they kiss'd her there.

15. Her mother dear led her thro' the closs, And her brother John set her on her horse.

16. She lean'd her o'er the saddle-bow, To give him a kiss ere she did go.

17. He has ta'en a knife, baith lang and sharp, And stabb'd that bonny bride to the heart.

18. She hadno ridden half thro' the town, Until her heart's blude stain'd her gown.

19. 'Ride softly on,' says the best young man, 'For I think our bonny bride looks pale and wan.'

20. 'O lead me gently up yon hill, And I'll there sit down, and make my will.'

21. 'O what will you leave to your father dear?' 'The silver-shod steed that brought me here.'

22. 'What will you leave to your mother dear?' 'My velvet pall and my silken gear.'

23. 'What will you leave to your sister Anne?' 'My silken scarf and my gowden fan.'

24. 'What will you leave to your sister Grace?' 'My bloody cloaths to wash and dress.'

25. 'What will you leave to your brother John?' 'The gallows-tree to hang him on.'

26. 'What will you leave to your brother John's wife?' 'The wilderness to end her life.'

27. This ladie fair in her grave was laid, And many a mass was o'er her said.

28. But it would have made your heart right sair, To see the bridegroom rive his hair.

1.2,4: It should be remembered that the refrain is supposed to be sung with each verse, here and elsewhere. 15.1: 'closs,' close. 28.2: 'rive,' tear.



THE NUTBROWN MAID

The Text is from Arnold's Chronicle, of the edition which, from typographical evidence, is said to have been printed at Antwerp in 1502 by John Doesborowe. Each stanza is there printed in six long lines. Considerable variations appear in later editions. There is also a Balliol MS. (354), which contains a contemporary version, and the Percy Folio contains a corrupt version.

This should not be considered as a ballad proper; it is rather a 'dramatic lyric.' Its history, however, is quite as curious as that of many ballads. It occurs, as stated above, in the farrago known as the Chronicle of Richard Arnold, inserted between a list of the 'tolls' due on merchandise entering or leaving the port of Antwerp, and a table giving Flemish weights and moneys in terms of the corresponding English measures. Why such a poem should be printed in such incongruous surroundings, what its date or who its author was, are questions impossible to determine. Its position here is perhaps almost as incongruous as in its original place.

From 3.9 to the end of the last verse but one, it is a dialogue between an earl's son and a baron's daughter, in alternate stanzas; a prologue and an epilogue are added by the author.

Matthew Prior printed the poem in his works, in order to contrast it with his own version, Henry and Emma, which appealed to contemporary taste as more elegant than its rude original.

THE NUTBROWN MAID

1. Be it right, or wrong, these men among On women do complaine; Affermyng this, how that it is A labour spent in vaine, To loue them wele; for neuer a dele, They loue a man agayne; For lete a man do what he can, Ther fouour to attayne, Yet, yf a newe to them pursue, Ther furst trew louer than Laboureth for nought; and from her though[t] He is a bannisshed man.

2. I say not nay, bat that all day It is bothe writ and sayde That womans fayth is as who saythe All utterly decayed; But neutheles, right good wytnes In this case might be layde; That they loue trewe, and contynew, Recorde the Nutbrowne maide: Which from her loue, whan, her to proue, He cam to make his mone, Wolde not departe, for in her herte, She louyd but hym allone.

3. Than betwene us lete us discusse, What was all the maner Betwene them too; we wyll also Tell all they payne in fere, That she was in; now I begynne, Soo that ye me answere; Wherfore, ye, that present be I pray you geue an eare. I am the knyght; I cum be nyght, As secret as I can; Sayng, alas! thus stondyth the cause, I am a bannisshed man.

4. And I your wylle for to fulfylle In this wyl not refuse; Trusting to shewe, in wordis fewe, That men haue an ille use To ther owne shame wymen to blame, And causeles them accuse; Therfore to you I answere nowe, All wymen to excuse,— Myn owne hert dere, with you what chiere? I prey you, tell anoon; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I loue but you allon.

5. It stondith so; a dede is do, Wherfore moche harme shal growe; My desteny is for to dey A shamful dethe, I trowe; Or ellis to flee: the ton must bee. None other wey I knowe, But to withdrawe as an outlaw, And take me to my bowe. Wherefore, adew, my owne hert trewe, None other red I can: For I muste to the grene wode goo, Alone a bannysshed man.

6. O Lorde, what is this worldis blisse, That chaungeth as the mone! My somers day in lusty may Is derked before the none. I here you saye farwel: nay, nay, We depart not soo sone. Why say ye so? wheder wyll ye goo? Alas! what haue ye done? Alle my welfare to sorow and care Shulde chaunge, yf ye were gon; For, in [my] mynde, of all mankynde I loue but you alone.

7. I can beleue, it shal you greue, And somwhat you distrayne; But, aftyrwarde, your paynes harde Within a day or tweyne Shall sone aslake; and ye shall take Comfort to you agayne. Why shuld ye nought? for, to make thought, Your labur were in vayne. And thus I do; and pray you, loo, As hertely as I can; For I must too the grene wode goo, Alone a banysshed man.

8. Now, syth that ye haue shewed to me The secret of your mynde, I shalbe playne to you agayne, Lyke as ye shal me fynde. Syth it is so, that ye wyll goo, I wol not leue behynde; Shall neuer be sayd, the Nutbrowne mayd, Was to her loue unkind: Make you redy, for soo am I, All though it were anoon; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I loue but you alone.

9. Yet I you rede take good hede Whan men wyl thynke, and sey; Of yonge, and olde, it shalbe tolde, That ye be gone away, Your wanton wylle for to fulfylle, In grene wood you to play; And that ye myght from your delyte Noo lenger make delay: Rather than ye shuld thus for me Be called an ylle woman, Yet wolde I to the grene wodde goo, Alone a banyshed man.

10. Though it be songe of olde and yonge, That I shuld be to blame, Theirs be the charge, that speke so large In hurting of my name: For I wyl proue that feythful loue It is deuoyd of shame; In your distresse and heuynesse, To parte wyth you, the same: And sure all thoo, that doo not so, Trewe louers ar they noon; But, in my mynde, of all mankynde I loue but you alone.

11. I councel yow, remembre howe It is noo maydens lawe, Nothing to dought, but to renne out To wod with an outlawe; For ye must there in your hande bere A bowe to bere and drawe; And, as a theef, thus must ye lyeue, Euer in drede and awe, By whiche to yow gret harme myght grow: Yet had I leuer than, That I had too the grenewod goo, Alone a banysshyd man.

12. I thinke not nay, but as ye saye, It is noo maydens lore: But loue may make me for your sake, As ye haue said before To com on fote, to hunte, and shote, To gete us mete and store; For soo that I your company May haue, I aske noo more: From whiche to parte, it makith myn herte As colde as ony ston; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I loue but you alone.

13. For an outlawe, this is the lawe, That men hym take and binde; Wythout pytee hanged to bee, And wauer with the wynde. Yf I had neede, (as God forbede!) What rescous coude ye finde? Forsothe, I trowe, you and your bowe Shuld drawe for fere behynde: And noo merueyle; for lytel auayle Were in your councel than: Wherfore I too the woode wyl goo Alone a banysshd man.

14. Ful wel knowe ye, that wymen bee Ful febyl for to fyght; Noo womanhed is it in deede To bee bolde as a knight: Yet, in suche fere, yf that ye were Amonge enemys day and nyght, I wolde wythstonde, with bowe in hande, To greue them as I myght, And you to saue; as wymen haue From deth many one: For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I loue but you alone.

15. Yet take good hede, for euer I drede That ye coude not sustein The thorney wayes, the depe valeis, The snowe, the frost, the reyn, The colde, the hete: for drye, or wete, We must lodge on the playn; And, us abowe, noon other roue But a brake bussh or twayne: Which sone shulde greue you, I beleue; And ye wolde gladly than That I had too the grenewode goo, Alone a banysshyd man.

16. Syth I haue here ben partynere With you of joy and blysse, I must also parte of your woo Endure, as reason is: Yet am I sure of oon plesure; And, shortly, it is this: That, where ye bee, me semeth, perde, I coude not fare amysse, Wythout more speche, I you beseche That we were soon agone; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde, I loue but you alone.

17. Yef ye goo thedyr, ye must consider, Whan ye haue lust to dyne Ther shal no mete before to gete, Nor drinke, beer, ale, ne wine; Ne shetis clene, to lye betwene, Made of thred and twyne; Noon other house but leuys and bowes To keuer your hed and myn, Loo, myn herte swete, this ylle dyet Shuld make you pale and wan; Wherfore I to the wood wyl goo, Alone, a banysshid man.

18. Amonge the wylde dere, suche an archier, As men say that ye bee, Ne may not fayle of good vitayle Where is so grete plente: And watir cleere of the ryuere Shalbe ful swete to me; Wyth whiche in hele I shal right wele Endure, as ye shal see; And, or we goo, a bed or twoo I can prouide anoon; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I loue but you alone.

19. Loo, yet before ye must doo more, Yf ye wyl goo with me; As cutte your here up by your ere, Your kirtel by the knee; Wyth bowe in hande, for to withstonde Your enmys, yf nede bee: And this same nyght before daylyght, To woodwarde wyl I flee. And ye wyl all this fulfylle, Doo it shortely as ye can: Ellis wil I to the grenewode goo, Alone, a banysshyd man.

20. I shal as now do more for you That longeth to womanhed; To short my here, a bowe to bere, To shote in tyme of nede. O my swete mod[er], before all other For you haue I most drede: But now, adiew! I must ensue Wher fortune duth me leede. All this make ye: now lete us flee; The day cum fast upon; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I loue but you alone.

21. Nay, nay, not soo; ye shal not goo, And I shal telle you why,— Your appetyte is to be lyght Of loue, I wele aspie: For, right as ye haue sayd to me, In lyke wyse hardely Ye wolde answere who so euer it were, In way of company. It is sayd of olde, sone hote, sone colde; And so is a woman. Wherfore I too the woode wly goo, Alone, a banysshid man.

22. Yef ye take hede, yet is noo nede Suche wordis to say by me; For ofte ye preyd, and longe assayed, Or I you louid, parde: And though that I of auncestry A barons doughter bee, Yet haue you proued how I you loued A squyer of lowe degree; And euer shal, whatso befalle— To dey therfore anoon; For, in my mynde, of al mankynde I loue but you alone.

23. A barons childe to be begyled, It were a curssed dede; To be felow with an outlawe, Almyghty God forbede. Yet bettyr were the power squyere Alone to forest yede, Than ye shal saye another day, That, be [my] wyked dede, Ye were betrayed: wherfore, good maide, The best red that I can, Is, that I too the grenewode goo, Alone, a banysshed man.

24. Whatso euer befalle, I neuer shal Of this thing you upbrayd: But yf ye goo, and leue me soo, Than haue ye me betraied. Remembre you wele, how that ye dele For, yf ye as the[y] sayd, Be so unkynde, to leue behynde Your loue, the notbrowne maide, Trust me truly, that I [shall] dey Sone after ye be gone; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I loue but you alone.

25. Yef that ye went, ye shulde repent; For in the forest nowe I haue purueid me of a maide, Whom I loue more than you; Another fayrer, than euer ye were, I dare it wel auowe; And of you bothe eche shulde be wrothe With other, as I trowe; It were myn ease, to lyue in pease, So wyl I, yf I can: Wherfore I to the wode wyl goo, Alone a banysshid man.

26. Though in the wood I undirstode Ye had a paramour, All this may nought reineue my thought, But that I wil be your; And she shal fynde me soft and kynde, And curteis euery our; Glad to fulfylle all that she wylle Commaunde me to my power: For had ye, loo, an hundred moo, Yet wolde I be that one, For, in my mynde, of all mankynde, I loue but you alone.

27. Myn owne dere loue, I see the proue That ye be kynde and trewe, Of mayde, and wyf, in al my lyf, The best that euer I knewe. Be mery and glad, be no more sad, The case is chaunged newe; For it were ruthe, that, for your trouth, Ye shuld haue cause to rewe. Be not dismayed; whatsoeuer I sayd To you, whan I began, I wyl not too the grene wod goo, I am noo banysshyd man.

28. This tidingis be more glad to me, Than to be made a quene, Yf I were sure they shuld endure; But it is often seen, When men wyl breke promyse, they speke The wordis on the splene; Ye shape some wyle me to begyle And stele fro me, I wene: Than were the case wurs than it was, And I more woobegone: For, in my mynde, of al mankynde I loue but you alone.

29. Ye shal not nede further to drede; I wyl not disparage You, (God defende!) syth you descend Of so grete a lynage. Now understonde; to Westmerlande, Whiche is my herytage, I wyl you brynge; and wyth a rynge, By wey of maryage I wyl you take, and lady make, As shortly as I can: Thus haue ye wone an erles son And not a banysshyd man.

30. Here may ye see, that wymen be In loue, meke, kinde, and stable; Late neuer man repreue them than, Or calle them variable; But rather prey God that we may To them be comfortable; Whiche somtyme prouyth suche as loueth, Yf they be charitable. For sith men wolde that wymen sholde Be meke to them echeon, Moche more ought they to God obey, And serue but Hym alone.

[Annotations: 1.1: 'among,' from time to time. 1.5: 'neuer a dele,' not at all. 3.4: 'they' = the. 'in fere,' in company. 'and fere' (= fear) is usually printed. 5.1: 'do,' done. 5.5: 'ton,' one. 5.10: i.e. I know no other advice. 6.4: 'derked,' darkened. 6.7: 'wheder,' whither. 7.2: 'distrayne,' affect. 7.5: 'aslake,' abate. 10.9: 'thoo,' those. 11.3: 'renne,' run. 11.6: A later edition of the Chronicle reads— 'A bowe, redy to drawe.' 13.6: 'rescous,' rescue. Another edition has 'socurs.' 15.7: 'abowe,' above; 'roue,' roof. 18.7: 'hele,' health. 19.3: 'here,' hair; 'ere,' ear. 19.9: 'And,' If. 20.7: 'ensue,' follow. 22.2: The type is broken in the 1502 edition, which reads 'to say be....' 23.6: 'yede,' went. 25.3: 'purueid (= purveyed) me,' provided myself. 26.9: 'moo' = mo, i.e. more. 30.10: 'echeon,' each one.]



FAIR JANET

The Text.—Of seven or eight variants of this ballad, only three preserve the full form of the story. On the whole, the one here given—from Sharp's Ballad Book, as sung by an old woman in Perthshire—is the best, as the other two—from Herd's Scots Songs, and the Kinloch MSS.—are slightly contaminated by extraneous matter.

The Story is a simple ballad-tale of 'true-love twinned'; but the episode of the dancing forms a link with a number of German and Scandinavian ballads, in which compulsory dancing and horse-riding is made a test of the guilt of an accused maiden. In the Scotch ballad the horse-riding has shrunk almost to nothing, and the dancing is not compulsory. The resemblance is faint, and the barbarities of the Continental versions are happily wanting in our ballad.

FAIR JANET

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

... ... ...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Annotations: 5.4: 'jo,' sweetheart. 15.3: 'nourice,' nurse. 16.4: 'busk,' dress. 24.1: 'ben,' into the house. 24.4: 'downa,' like not to.]



BROWN ADAM

The Text is given from the Jamieson-Brown MS. It was first printed by Scott, with the omission of the second stanza—perhaps justifiable—and a few minor changes. He notes that he had seen a copy printed on a single sheet.

The Story has a remote parallel in a Danish ballad, extant in manuscripts of the sixteenth century and later, Den afhugne Haand. The tale is told as follows. Lutzelil, knowing the evil ways of Lawi Pederson, rejects his proffered love. Lawi vows she shall repent it, and the maiden is afraid for nine months to go to church, but goes at Easter. Lawi meets her in a wood, and repeats his offer. She begs him to do her no harm, feigns compliance, and makes an assignation in the chamber of her maids. She returns home and tells her father, who watches for Lawi. When he comes and demands admission, she denies the assignation. Lawi breaks down the door, and discovers Lutzelil's father with a drawn sword, with which he cuts off Lawi's hand.

The reason for objecting to the second stanza as here given is not so much the inadequacy of a golden hammer, or the unusual whiteness of the smith's fingers, but the rhyme in the third line.

BROWN ADAM

1. O wha woud wish the win' to blaw, Or the green leaves fa' therewith? Or wha wad wish a leeler love Than Brown Adam the Smith?

2. His hammer's o' the beaten gold, His study's o' the steel, His fingers white are my delite, He blows his bellows well.

3. But they ha' banish'd him Brown Adam Frae father and frae mither, An' they ha' banish'd him Brown Adam Frae sister and frae brither.

4. And they ha' banish'd Brown Adam Frae the flow'r o' a' his kin; An' he's biggit a bow'r i' the good green wood Betwen his lady an' him.

5. O it fell once upon a day Brown Adam he thought lang, An' he woud to the green wood gang, To hunt some venison.

6. He's ta'en his bow his arm o'er, His bran' intill his han', And he is to the good green wood, As fast as he coud gang.

7. O he's shot up, an' he's shot down, The bird upo' the briar, An' he's sent it hame to his lady, Bade her be of good cheer.

8. O he's shot up, an' he's shot down, The bird upo' the thorn, And sent it hame to his lady, And hee'd be hame the morn.

9. Whan he came till his lady's bow'r-door He stood a little forbye, And there he heard a fu' fa'se knight Temptin' his gay lady.

10. O he's ta'en out a gay gold ring, Had cost him mony a poun': 'O grant me love for love, lady, An' this sal be your own.'

11. 'I loo Brown Adam well,' she says, 'I wot sae does he me; An' I woud na gi' Brown Adam's love For nae fa'se knight I see.'

12. Out he has ta'en a purse of gold, Was a' fu' to the string: 'Grant me but love for love, lady, An' a' this sal be thine.'

13. 'I loo Brown Adam well,' she says, 'An' I ken sae does he me; An' I woudna be your light leman For mair nor ye coud gie.'

14. Then out has he drawn his lang, lang bran', An' he's flash'd it in her een: 'Now grant me love for love, lady, Or thro' you this sal gang!'

15. 'O,' sighing said that gay lady, 'Brown Adam tarrys lang!' Then up it starts Brown Adam, Says, 'I'm just at your han'.'

16. He's gard him leave his bow, his bow, He's gard him leave his bran'; He's gard him leave a better pledge— Four fingers o' his right han'.

[Annotations: 1.3: 'leeler,' more loyal. 2.2: 'study,' stithy, anvil. 4.3: 'biggit,' built. 5.2: 'thought lang,' thought (it) tedious; i.e. was bored. Cp. Young Bekie, 16.4, etc.; Johney Scot, 6.2, and elsewhere. 9.2: 'forbye,' apart. 10.1: 'he' is of course the false knight. 11.1: 'loo,' love. 12.2: 'string': i.e. the top; purses were bags with a running string to draw the top together. 15.2: 'lang': the MS. reads long. 16.1: etc., 'gard,' made.]



WILLIE O' WINSBURY

The Text is from the Campbell MSS.

The Story was imagined by Kinloch to possess a quasi-historical foundation: James V. of Scotland, who eventually married Madeleine, elder daughter of Francis I., having been previously betrothed 'by treaty' to Marie de Bourbon, daughter of the Duke of Vendome, returned to Scotland in 1537. The theory is neither probable nor plausible.

WILLIE O' WINSBURY

1. The king he hath been a prisoner, A prisoner lang in Spain, O, And Willie o' the Winsbury Has lain lang wi' his daughter at hame, O.

2. 'What aileth thee, my daughter Janet, Ye look so pale and wan? Have ye had any sore sickness, Or have ye been lying wi' a man? Or is it for me, your father dear, And biding sae lang in Spain?'

3. 'I have not had any sore sickness, Nor yet been lying wi' a man; But it is for you, my father dear, In biding sae lang in Spain.'

4. 'Cast ye off your berry-brown gown, Stand straight upon the stone, That I may ken ye by yere shape, Whether ye be a maiden or none.'

5. She's coosten off her berry-brown gown, Stooden straight upo' yon stone; Her apron was short, her haunches were round, Her face it was pale and wan.

6. 'Is it to a man o' might, Janet? Or is it to a man of fame? Or is it to any of the rank robbers That's lately come out o' Spain?'

7. 'It is not to a man of might,' she said, 'Nor is it to a man of fame; But it is to William of Winsbury; I could lye nae langer my lane.'

8. The king's called on his merry men all, By thirty and by three: 'Go fetch me William of Winsbury, For hanged he shall be.'

9. But when he cam' the king before, He was clad o' the red silk; His hair was like to threeds o' gold, And his skin was as white as milk.

10. 'It is nae wonder,' said the king, 'That my daughter's love ye did win; Had I been a woman, as I am a man, My bedfellow ye should hae been.

11. 'Will ye marry my daughter Janet, By the truth of thy right hand? I'll gi'e ye gold, I'll gi'e ye money, And I'll gi'e ye an earldom o' land.'

12. 'Yes, I'll marry yere daughter Janet, By the truth of my right hand; But I'll hae nane o' yer gold, I'll hae nane o' yer money, Nor I winna hae an earldom o' land.

13. 'For I hae eighteen corn-mills Runs all in water clear, And there's as much corn in each o' them As they can grind in a year.'



THE MARRIAGE OF SIR GAWAINE

The Text is from the early part of the Percy Folio, and the ballad is therefore deficient. Where gaps are marked in the text with a row of asterisks, about nine stanzas are lost in each case—half a page torn out by a seventeenth-century maidservant to light a fire! Luckily we can supply the story from other versions.

The Story, also given in The Weddynge of Sr Gawen and Dame Ragnell (in the Rawlinson MS. c. 86 in the Bodleian Library), runs as follows:—

Shortly after Christmas, Arthur, riding by Tarn Wadling (still so called, but now pasture-land, in the forest of Inglewood), meets a bold baron, who challenges him to fight, unless he can win his ransom by returning on New Year's Day with an answer to the question, What does a woman most desire? Arthur relates the story to Gawaine, asks him and others for an answer to the riddle, and collects their suggestions in a book ('letters,' 24.1). On his way to keep his tryst with the baron, he meets an unspeakably ugly woman, who offers her assistance; if she will help him, Arthur says, she shall wed with Gawaine. She gives him the true answer, A woman will have her will. Arthur meets the baron, and after proffering the budget of answers, confronts him with the true answer. The baron exclaims against the ugly woman, whom he asserts to be his sister.

Arthur returns to his court, and tells his knights that a wife awaits one of them on the moor. Sir Lancelot, Sir Steven (who is not mentioned elsewhere in Arthurian tales), Sir Kay, Sir Bauier (probably Beduer or Bedivere), Sir Bore (Bors de Gauves), Sir Garrett (Gareth), and Sir Tristram ride forth to find her. At sight, Sir Kay, without overmuch chivalry, expresses his disgust, and the rest are unwilling to marry her. The king explains that he has promised to give her to Sir Gawaine, who, it seems, bows to Arthur's authority, and weds her. During the bridal night, she becomes a beautiful young woman. Further to test Gawaine, she gives him his choice: will he have her fair by day and foul by night, or foul by day and fair by night? Fair by night, says Gawaine. And foul to be seen of all by day? she asks. Have your way, says Gawaine, and breaks the last thread of the spell, as she forthwith explains: her step-mother had bewitched both her, to haunt the moor in ugly shape, till some knight should grant her all her will, and her brother, to challenge all comers to fight him or answer the riddle.

Similar tales, but with the important variation—undoubtedly indigenous in the story—that the man who saves his life by answering the riddle has himself to wed the ugly woman, are told by Gower (Confessio Amantis, Book I.) and Chaucer (The Tale of the Wyf of Bathe). The latter, which is also Arthurian in its setting, was made into a ballad in the Crown Garland of Golden Roses (circ. 1600), compiled by Richard Johnson. A parallel is also to be found in an Icelandic saga.

THE MARRIAGE OF SIR GAWAINE

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

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

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

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

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

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

7. And there came to him his cozen Sir Gawaine That was a curteous knight; 'Why sigh you soe sore, vnckle Arthur,' he said, 'Or who hath done thee vnright?'

8. 'O peace, O peace, thou gentle Gawaine, That faire may thee beffall! For if thou knew my sighing soe deepe, Thou wold not meruaile att all;

9. 'Ffor when I came to Tearne Wadling, A bold barron there I fand, With a great club vpon his backe, Standing stiffe and strong;

10. 'And he asked me wether I wold fight, Or from him I shold begone, Or else I must him a ransome pay & soe depart him from.

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

12. 'Therefor this is my ransome, Gawaine, I ought to him to pay: I must come againe, as I am sworne, Vpon the Newyeer's day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

22. 'Why, if I help thee not, thou noble King Arthur, Of thy owne heart's desiringe, Of gentle Gawaine . . . ... ... ...

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

24. And then he tooke King Arthur's letters in his hands, & away he cold them fling, & then he puld out a good browne sword, & cryd himselfe a king.

25. And he sayd, 'I haue thee & thy land, Arthur, To doe as it pleaseth me, For this is not thy ransome sure, Therfore yeeld thee to me.'

26. And then bespoke him noble Arthur, & bad him hold his hand; '& giue me leaue to speake my mind In defence of all my land.'

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

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

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

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

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[Annotations: 1.4: 'blee,' complexion. 2.4: Perhaps we should read 'stiff in stowre,' a constant expression in ballads, 'sturdy in fight.' 11: Arthur's customary bravery and chivalry are not conspicuous in this ballad. 18.1: 'halch upon,' salute. 21.1: 'Giue,' If. 27.3: 'hollen,' holly. 28.3: 'sckill,' reason, judgment.]

The 2d Part

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

32. Soe did Sir Bauier and Sir Bore, Sir Garrett with them soe gay, Soe did Sir Tristeram that gentle knight, To the forrest fresh & gay.

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

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

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

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

37. 'What! wedd her to wiffe!' then said Sir Kay, 'In the diuells name, anon! Gett me a wiffe whereere I may, For I had rather be slaine!'

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

39. And then bespake him noble King Arthur, & sware there by this day: 'For a litle foule sight & misliking ... ... ...

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

41. And then bespake him gentle Gawaine, Was one soe mild of moode, Sayes, 'Well I know what I wold say, God grant it may be good!

42. 'To haue thee fowle in the night When I with thee shold play; Yet I had rather, if I might, Haue thee fowle in the day.'

43. 'What! when Lords goe with ther feires,' shee said, 'Both to the ale & wine? Alas! then I must hyde my selfe, I must not goe withinne.'

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

45. Then she said, 'Blessed be thou, gentle Gawaine, This day that I thee see, For as thou see[st] me att this time, From hencforth I wil be:

46. 'My father was an old knight, & yett it chanced soe That he marryed a younge lady That brought me to this woe.

47. 'Shee witched me, being a faire young lady, To the greene forrest to dwell, & there I must walke in womans likness, Most like a feend of hell.

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

*** *** ***

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

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

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

52. 'Well, cozen Gawaine,' sayes Sir Kay, 'Thy chance is fallen arright, For thou hast gotten one of the fairest maids I euer saw with my sight.'

53. 'It is my fortune,' said Sir Gawaine; 'For my Vnckle Arthur's sake I am glad as grasse wold be of raine, Great ioy that I may take.'

54. Sir Gawaine tooke the lady by the one arme, Sir Kay tooke her by the tother, They led her straight to King Arthur As they were brother & brother.

55. King Arthur welcomed them there all, & soe did lady Geneuer his queene, With all the knights of the round table Most seemly to be seene.

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

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

[Annotations: 34.2: 'swire,' neck: the Folio reads smire. 37.4: 'slaine': the Folio gives shaine. 41.2: 'was' (Child's suggestion): the Folio reads with. 43.1: 'feires,' = feres, mates: the Folio reads seires. 44.2: Folio: but a skill: see note on 28.3. 48.1: 'carlish,' churlish.]



THE BOY AND THE MANTLE

Text.—The Percy Folio is the sole authority for this excellent lively ballad. It is here given as it stands in the manuscript, except for division into stanzas. Percy printed the ballad 'verbatim,'—that is, with emendations—and also a revised version.

The Story, which exists in countless variations in many lands, is told from the earliest times in connection with the Arthurian legend-cycle. Restricting the article used as a criterion of chastity to a mantle, we find the elements of this ballad existing in French manuscripts of the thirteenth century (the romance called Cort Mantel); in a Norse translation of this 'fabliau'; in the Icelandic Mantle Rhymes of the fifteenth century; in the Scalachronica of Sir Thomas Gray of Heton (circ. 1355); in Germany, and in Gaelic (a ballad known in Irish writings, but not in Scottish); as well as in many other versions.

The trial by the drinking-horn is a fable equally old, as far as the evidence goes, and equally widespread; but it is not told elsewhere in connection with the parallel story of the mantle. Other tests used for the purpose of discovering infidelity or unchastity are:— a crown, a magic bridge (German); a girdle (English; cp. Florimel's girdle in the Faery Queen, Book iv. Canto 5); a bed, a stepping-stone by the bedside, a chair (Scandinavian); flowers (Sanskrit); a shirt (German and Flemish); a picture (Italian, translated to England—cp. Massinger's The Picture (1630), where he localises the story in Hungary); a ring (French); a mirror (German, French, and Italian); and so forth.

Caxton, in his preface to Kyng Arthur (1485), says:— 'Item, in the castel of Douer ye may see Gauwayn's skull and Cradok's mantel.' Sir Thomas Gray says the mantle was made into a chasuble, and was preserved at Glastonbury.

Thomas Love Peacock says (The Misfortunes of Elphin, chap. xii.), 'Tegau Eurvron, or Tegau of the Golden Bosom, was the wife of Caradoc [Craddocke], and one of the Three Chaste Wives of the island of Britain.' A similar statement is recorded by Percy at the end of his 'revised and altered' ballad, taking it from 'the Rev. Evan Evans, editor of the Specimens of Welsh Poetry.'