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Title: Ballads of Romance and Chivalry
       Popular Ballads of the Olden Times - First Series

Author: Frank Sidgwick

Release Date: January 28, 2007 [EBook #20469]

Language: English

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  [Transcriber's Note:

  The printed text used small capitals for emphasis. These have been
  replaced with +marks+ where appopriate. Missing lines were shown
  by rows of widely spaced dots (single lines) or asterisks (longer
  sections). They are shown here in groups of three:

    ...   ...   ...
  or
    ***   ***   ***

  Variant forms such as "Maisry" : "Maisery" or "+Text(s)+" :
  "+The Text+" are unchanged. Brackets are in the original, except
  when enclosing footnotes or illustration markers. Errors are listed
  at the end of the text.]

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  [Illustration: Facsimile of the Percy Folio MS. (_British Museum_,
  Addit. MS. 27, 879, f. 46 _verso_). +Glasgerion+, first three verses
  (see p. 2), annotated by Percy. The full page is 15 1/4 x 6 inches.]




  POPULAR BALLADS
  OF THE OLDEN TIME

  SELECTED AND EDITED
  BY FRANK SIDGWICK

  First Series. Ballads of
  Romance and Chivalry


  'What hast here? Ballads?
  'Pray now, buy some.'

  A. H. BULLEN
  47 Great Russell Street
  London. MCMIII




 'La rime n'est pas riche, et le style en est vieux:
  Mais ne voyez-vous pas que cela vaut bien mieux
  Que ces colifichets dont le bon sens murmure,
  Et que la passion parle la toute pure?'

    Moliere, _Le Misanthrope_, I. 2.




CONTENTS
                                                  Page

  Preface                                           ix
  Introduction                                    xvii
  Ballads in the First Series                    xliii
  Glossary of Ballad Commonplaces                 xlvi
  List of Books for Ballad Study                   lii
  Note on the Illustrations                         lv

  Glasgerion                                         1
  Young Bekie                                        6
  Old Robin of Portingale                           13
  Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard                  19
  The Bonny Birdy                                   25
  Fair Annie                                        29
  The Cruel Mother                                  35
  Child Waters                                      37
  Earl Brand                                        44
    The Douglas Tragedy                             49
    The Child of Ell                                52
  Lord Thomas and Fair Annet                        54
  The Brown Girl                                    60
  Fair Margaret and Sweet William                   63
  Lord Lovel                                        67
  Lady Maisry                                       70
  The Cruel Brother                                 76
  The Nutbrown Maid                                 80
  Fair Janet                                        94
  Brown Adam                                       100
  Willie o' Winsbury                               104
  The Marriage of Sir Gawaine                      107
  The Boy and the Mantle                           119
  Johney Scot                                      128
  Lord Ingram and Chiel Wyet                       135
  The Twa Sisters o' Binnorie                      141
  Young Waters                                     146
  Barbara Allan                                    150
  The Gay Goshawk                                  153
  Brown Robin                                      158
  Lady Alice                                       163
  Child Maurice                                    165
  Fause Footrage                                   172
  Fair Annie of Rough Royal                        179
  Hind Horn                                        185
  Edward                                           189
  Lord Randal                                      193
  Lamkin                                           196
  Fair Mary of Wallington                          201

  Index of Titles                                  209
  Index of First Lines                             211



PREFACE


Of making selections of ballads there is no end. As a subject for the
editor, they seem to be only less popular than Shakespeare, and every
year sees a fresh output. But of late there has sprung up a custom of
confusing the old with the new, the genuine with the imitation; and the
products of civilised days, 'ballads' by courtesy or convention, are set
beside the rugged and hard-featured aborigines of the tribe, just as the
delicate bust of Clytie in the British Museum has for next neighbour the
rude and bold 'Unknown Barbarian Captive.' To contrast by such enforced
juxtaposition a ballad of the golden world with a ballad by Mr. Kipling
is unfair to either, each being excellent in its way; and the
collocation of _Edward_ or _Lord Randal_ with a ballad of Rossetti's is
only of interest or value as exhibiting the perennial charm of the
_refrain_.

There exist, however, in our tongue--though not only in our
tongue--narratives in rhyme which have been handed down in oral
tradition from father to son for so many ages, that all record of their
authorship has long been lost. These are commonly called the Old
Ballads. Being traditional, each ballad may exist in more than one form;
in most cases the original story is clothed in several different forms.
The present series is designed to include all the best of these ballads
which are still extant in England and Scotland: Ireland and Wales
possess a similar class of popular literature, but each in its own
tongue. It is therefore necessary, in issuing this the first volume of
the series, to say somewhat as to the methods employed in editing and
selecting.

Ballad editors of yore were confronted with perhaps two, perhaps twenty,
versions of each ballad; some unintelligibly fragmentary, some
intelligibly complete; some in print, some in manuscript, some,
perchance, in their own memories. Collating these, they subjected the
text to minute revision, omitting and adding, altering and inserting, to
suit their personal tastes and standards, literary or polite; and having
thus made it over, forgot to record the act, and saw no reason to
apologise therefor.

Pioneers like Thomas Percy, Bishop of Dromore, and Sir Walter Scott, may
well be excused the general censure. The former, living in and pandering
to an age which invented and applied those delightful literary
adjectives 'elegant' and 'ingenious,' may be pardoned with the more
sincerity if one recalls the influence exercised on English letters by
his publication. The latter, who played the part of Percy in the matter
of Scottish ballads, and was nourished from his boyhood on the
_Reliques_, printed for the first time many ballads which still are the
best of their class, and was gifted with consummate skill and taste.
Both, moreover, did their work scientifically, according to their
lights; and both have left at least some of their originals behind them.
There is, perhaps, one more exception to the general condemnation. Of
William Allingham's _Ballad Book_, as truly a _vade mecum_ as Palgrave's
lyrical anthology in the same 'Golden Treasury' series, I would speak,
perhaps only for sentimental reasons, always with respect, admiring the
results of his editing while looking askance at the method, for he mixed
his ingredients and left no recipe.

But in the majority of cases there is no obvious excuse for this 'omnium
gatherum' process. The self-imposed function of most ballad editors
appears to have been the compilation of _rifacimenti_ in accordance with
their private ideas of what a ballad should be. And that such a state of
things was permissible is doubtless an indication of the then prevalent
attitude of half-interested tolerance assumed towards these memorials of
antiquity.

To-day, however, the ballad editor is confronted with the results of the
labours, still unfinished, of a comparatively recent school in literary
science. These have lately culminated in _The English and Scottish
Popular Ballads_, edited by the late Professor Francis James Child of
Harvard University. This work, in five large volumes, issued in ten
parts at intervals from 1882 to 1898, and left by the editor at his
death complete but for the Introduction--_valde deflendus_--gives in
full all known variants of the three hundred and five ballads adjudged
by its editor to be genuinely 'popular,' with an essay, prefixed to each
ballad, on its history, origin, folklore, etc., and notes, glossary,
bibliographies, appendices, etc.; exhibiting as a whole unrivalled
special knowledge, great scholarly intuition, and years of patient
research, aided by correspondents, students, and transcribers in all
parts of the world, Lacking Professor Child's Introduction, we cannot
exactly tell what his definition of a 'popular' ballad was, or what
qualities in a ballad implied exclusion from his collection--_e.g._ he
does not admit _The Children in the Wood_: otherwise one can find in
this monumental work the whole history and all the versions of nearly
all the ballads.

It will be obvious that Professor Child's academic method is suited
rather to the scholar than the general reader. As a rule, one text of
each ballad is all that is required, which must therefore be chosen--but
by what rules? To the scholar, it usually happens that the most ancient
and least handled text is the most interesting; but these are too
frequently incomplete and unintelligible. The literary dilettante may
prefer tasteful decorations by a Percy or a Scott; doubtless Buchan has
some admirers: but the student abhors this painting of the lily.

Therefore I have compromised--always a dangerous practice--and I have
sought to give, to the best of my judgement, _that authorised text of
each ballad which tells in the best manner the completest form of the
story or plot_. I have been forced to make certain exceptions, but for
all departures from the above rule I have given reasons which, I trust,
will be found to justify the procedure; and in all cases the sources of
each text or part of the text are indicated.

I am quite aware that it may fairly be asked: Why not assume the
immemorial privilege of a ballad editor, and concoct a text for
yourself? Why, when any text of a ballad is, as you admit, merely a
representative of parallel and similar traditional versions, should you
not compile from those other variants a text which should combine the
excellences of each, and give us the cream?

There are several objections to this course. However incompetent,
I should not shrink from the labour involved; nor do I entirely approve
the growing demand for German minuteness and exactitude in editors. But,
firstly, the ballad should be subject to variation only while it is in
oral circulation. Secondly, editorial garnishing has been overdone
already, and my unwillingness to adopt that method is caused as much by
the failure of the majority of editors as by the success of the few.
Lastly, _chacun a son gout_; there is a kind of literary selfishness in
emending and patching to suit one's private taste, and, if any one
wishes to do so, he will be most pleased with the result if he does it
for himself.

This lengthy _apologia_ is necessitated by a departure from the usual
custom of ballad-editing. For the rest, my indebtedness to the work of
Professor Child will be obvious throughout. Many of his most interesting
texts were printed for the first time from manuscripts in private hands.
These I have not sought to collate, which would, indeed, insult his
accuracy and care. But in the case of texts from the Percy Folio, where
the labour is rather to decipher than to transcribe accurately, I have
resorted not only to the reprint of Hales and Furnivall, but to the
Folio itself. The whimsical spelling of this MS. pleases me as often as
it irritates, and I have ventured in certain ballads, _e.g._
_Glasgerion_, to modernise it, and in others, _e.g._ _Old Robin of
Portingale_, to retain it _literatim_: in either case I have reduced to
uniformity the orthography of the proper names. Transcripts from other
MSS. are reproduced as they stand.

In the general Introduction I have tried to sketch the genesis and
history of the ballad impartially in its several aspects, not for
scholars and connoisseurs, but for those ready to learn. To supply
deficiencies, I have added a list of books useful to the student of
English ballads--to go no further afield. Each ballad also is prefaced
with an introduction setting forth, besides the source of the text, as
succinctly as is consistent with accuracy, the derivation, when known,
of the story; the plot of similar foreign ballads; and points of
interest in folklore, history, or criticism attached to the particular
ballad. Where the story is fragmentary, I have added an argument. It
will be realised that such introductions at the best are but a
thousandth part of what might be written; but if they shall play the
part of _hors d'oeuvres_, and whet the appetite to proceed to more solid
food, the labour will not be lost.

Difficulties in the text are explained in footnotes. Few things are more
vexatious to a reader than constant reference to a glossary; but as
compensation for the educational value thus lost, the footnotes are, to
a certain extent, progressive; that is to say, a word already explained
in a foregoing ballad is not always explained again; and to the best of
my ability I have freed the notes from the grotesque blunders observable
in most modern editions of ballads.

Besides my indebtedness to the books mentioned in the bibliographical
list, I have to acknowledge my thanks to the Rev. Sabine Baring Gould,
for permission to use his version of _The Brown Girl_; to Mr. E. K.
Chambers, for kindly reading the general Introduction; and to my friend
and partner Mr. A. H. Bullen, for constant suggestions and assistance.

  F. S.




INTRODUCTION

  'Y-a-t-il donc, dans les contes populaires, quelque chose
  d'interessant pour un esprit serieux?'--Cosquin.


The old ballads of England and Scotland are fine wine in cobwebbed
bottles; and many have made the error of paying too much attention to
the cobwebs and not enough attention to the wine. This error is as
blameworthy as its converse: we must take the inside and the outside
together.


+I. What is a Ballad?+

The earliest sense of the word 'ballad,' or rather of its French and
Provencal predecessors, _balada_, _balade_ (derived from the late Latin
_ballare_, to dance), was 'a song intended as the accompaniment to a
dance,' a sense long obsolete.[1] Next came the meaning, a simple song
of sentiment or romance, of two verses or more, each of which is sung to
the same air, the accompaniment being subordinate to the melody. This
sense we still use in our 'ballad-concerts.' Another meaning was that of
simply a popular song or ditty of the day, lyrical or narrative, of the
kind often printed as a broadsheet. Lyrical _or_ narrative, because the
Elizabethans appear not to distinguish the two. Read, for instance, the
well-known scene in _The Winter's Tale_ (Act IV. Sc. 4); here we have
both the lyrical ballad, as sung by Dorcas and Mopsa, in which Autolycus
bears his part 'because it is his occupation'; and also the 'ballad in
print,' which Mopsa says she loves--'for then we are sure it is true.'
Immediately after, however, we discover that the 'ballad in print' is
the broadside, the narrative ballad, sung of a usurer's wife brought to
bed of twenty money-bags at a burden, or of a fish that appeared upon
the coast on Wednesday the fourscore of April: in short, as _Martin
Mar-sixtus_ says (1592), 'scarce a cat can look out of a gutter but out
starts a halfpenny chronicler, and presently a proper new ballet of a
strange sight is indited.' Chief amongst these 'halfpenny chroniclers'
were William Elderton, of whom Camden records that he 'did arm himself
with ale (as old father Ennius did with wine) when he ballated,' and
thereby obtained a red nose almost as celebrated as his verses; Thomas
Deloney, 'the ballating silkweaver of Norwich'; and Richard Johnson,
maker of Garlands. Thus to Milton, to Addison, and even to Johnson,
'ballad' essentially implies singing; but from about the middle of the
eighteenth century the modern interpretation of the word began to come
into general use.

  [Footnote 1: For the subject of the origin of the ballad and its
  refrain in the _ballatio_ of the dancing-ring, see _The Beginnings
  of Poetry_, by Professor Francis B. Gummere, especially chap. v. The
  beginning of the whole subject is to be found in the universal and
  innate practices of accompanying manual or bodily labour by a
  rhythmic chant or song, and of festal song and dance.]

In 1783, in one of his letters, the poet Cowper says: 'The ballad is a
species of poetry, I believe, peculiar to this country.... Simplicity
and ease are its proper characteristics.' Here we have one of the
earliest attempts to define the modern meaning of a 'ballad.' Centuries
of use and misuse of the word have left us no unequivocal name for the
ballad, and we are forced to qualify it with epithets. 'Traditional'
might be deemed sufficient; but 'popular' or 'communal' is more
definite. Here we adopt the word used by Professor Child--'popular.'

What, then, do we intend to signify by the expression 'popular ballads'?
Far the most important point is to maintain an antithesis between the
poetry of the people and the consciously artistic poetry of the schools.
Wilhelm Grimm, the less didactic of the two famous brothers, said that
the ballad says nothing unnecessary or unreal, and despises external
adornment. Ferdinand Wolf, the great critic of the Homeric question,
said the ballad must be naive, objective, not sentimental, lively and
erratic in its narrative, without ornamentation, yet with much
picturesque vigour.

It is even more necessary to define sharply the line between poetry _of_
the people and poetry _for_ the people.[2] The latter may still be
written; the making of the former is a lost art. Poetry of the people is
either lyric or narrative. This difference is roughly that between song
and ballad. 'With us,' says Ritson, 'songs of sentiment, expression, or
even description, are properly termed songs, in contradistinction to
mere narrative compositions which we now denominate Ballads.' This
definition, of course, is essentially modern; we must still insist on
the fact that genuine ballads were sung: 'I sing Musgrove,'[3] says Sir
Thwack in Davenant's _The Wits_, 'and for the Chevy Chase no lark comes
near me.' Lastly, we must emphasise that the accompaniment is
predominated by the air to which the words are sung. I have heard the
modern comic song described as 'the kind in which you hear the words,'
thus differentiating it from the drawing-room song, in which the words
are (happily) as a rule less audible than the melody. In the ballad, as
sung, the words are most important; but it is of vital importance to
remember that the ballads were chanted.

  [Footnote 2: See the first essay, 'What is "Popular Poetry"?' in
  _Ideas of Good and Evil_, by W. B. Yeats (1903), where this
  distinction is not recognised.]

  [Footnote 3: _Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard_ (see p. 19, etc.).]


+II. Poetry of the People.+

Now what is this 'poetry of the people'? One theory is as follows. Every
nation or people in the natural course of its development reaches a
stage at which it consists of a homogeneous, compact community, with its
sentiments undivided by class-distinctions, so that the whole active
body forms what is practically an individual. Begging the question, that
poetry can be produced by such a body, this poetry is naturally of a
concrete and narrative character, and is previous to the poetry of art.
'Therefore,' says Professor Child, 'while each ballad will be
idiosyncratic, it will not be an expression of the personality of
individuals, but of a collective sympathy; and the fundamental
characteristic of popular ballads is therefore the absence of
subjectivity and self-consciousness. Though they do not "write
themselves," as Wilhelm Grimm has said--though a man and not a people
has composed them, still the author counts for nothing, and it is not by
mere accident, but with the best reason, that they have come down to us
anonymous.'

By stating this, the dictum of one of the latest and most erudite of
ballad-scholars, so early in our argument, we anticipate a century or
more of criticism and counter-criticism, during which the giants of
literature ranged themselves in two parties, and instituted a
battle-royal which even now is not quite finished. It will be most
convenient if we denominate the one party as that which holds to the
communal or 'nebular' theory of authorship, and the other as the
anti-communal or 'artistic' theory. The tenet of the former party has
already been set forth, namely, that the poetry of the people is a
natural and spontaneous production of a community at that stage of its
existence when it is for all practical purposes an individual. The
theory of the 'artistic' school is that the ballads and folk-songs are
the productions of skalds, minstrels, bards, troubadours, or other
vagrant professional singers and reciters of various periods; it is
allowed, however, that, being subject entirely to oral transmission,
these ballads and songs are open to endless variation.

On the Continent, Herder was pioneer, both of the claims of popular
poetry and of the nebular theory of authorship. Traditions of chivalry,
he says, became poetry in the mouths of the people; but his definition
of popular poetry has rather extended bounds. Herder's enthusiasm fired
Goethe (who, however, did not wholly accede to the 'nebular' theory) to
study the subject, and the effect was soon noticeable in his own poetry.
Next came the two great brothers, whose names are ever to be held in
honour wherever folklore is studied or folktales read, Jacob and Wilhelm
Grimm. Jacob, the more ardent and polemical, insisted on the communal
authorship of the poetry of the people; ballad or song 'sings itself.'

Both the Grimms, and especially Jacob, were severely handled by the
critic Schlegel, who insisted on the artist. To Schlegel we owe the
famous image in which popular poetry is a tower, and the poet an
architect. Hundreds may fetch and carry, but all are useless without the
direction of the architect. This is specious argument; but we might
reply to Schlegel that an architect is only wanted when the result is
required to be an artistic whole. The tower of Babel was built by
hundreds of men under no superintendence. Schlegel's intention, however,
is no less clear than that of Jacob Grimm, and the two are diametrically
opposed.

In England, literary prejudice against the unpolished barbarities and
uncouthnesses of the ballad was at no time so pronounced as it was on
the Continent, and especially in Germany, during the latter half of the
eighteenth century. Indeed, at intervals, the most learned and fantastic
critics in England would call attention to the poetry of the people. Sir
Philip Sidney's apologetic words are well known:-- 'Certainly I must
confesse my own barbarousnes, I never heard the olde song of _Percy_ and
_Duglas_, that I found not my heart mooved more then with a Trumpet.'
Addison was bolder. 'It is impossible that anything should be
universally tasted and approved by a Multitude, tho' they are only the
Rabble of a Nation, which hath not in it some peculiar Aptness to please
and gratify the Mind of Man.' With these and other encouragements the
popular poetry of England was not lost to sight; and in 1765 the work of
the good Bishop of Dromore gave the ballads a place in literature.

Percy's opening remarks, attributing the ballads to the minstrels, are
as well known as the scoffs of the hard-hitting Joseph Ritson, who
contemptuously dismissed Percy's theories,[4] and refused to believe any
ballad to be of earlier origin than the reign of Elizabeth. Sir Walter
Scott was quite ready to accept the ballads as the productions of the
minstrels, either as 'the occasional effusions of some self-taught
bard,' or as abridged from the tales of tradition after the days when,
as Alfred de Musset says, 'our old romances spread their wings of gold
towards the enchanted world.'

  [Footnote 4: 'The truth really lay between the two, for neither
  appreciated the wide variety covered by a common name' (_The
  Mediaeval Stage_, E. K. Chambers, 1903). See especially chapters iii.
  and iv. of this work for an admirably complete and illuminating
  account of minstrelsy.]

This brings us nearer to our own day. The argument is not closed,
although we can discern offers of concession from either side. Svend
Grundtvig, editor of the enormous collection of Danish ballads,
distinguished the ballad from all forms of artistic literature, and
would have the artist left out of sight; Nyrop and the Scandinavian
scholars, on the other hand, entirely gave up the notion of communal
authorship. Howbeit, the trend of modern criticism,[5] on the whole, is
towards a common belief regarding most ballads, which may be stated
again, in Professor Child's words: 'Though a man and not a people has
composed them, still the author counts for nothing, and it is not by
mere accident, but with the best reason, that they have come down to us
anonymous.'

  [Footnote 5: For the most recent discussions, see Bibliography,
  p. lii.]


+III. The Growth of Ballads.+

Let us then picture, however vaguely and uncertainly, the growth of a
ballad. It is well known that the folklores of the various races of the
world exhibit common features, and that the beliefs, superstitions,
tales, even conventionalities of expression, of one race, are found to
present constant and remarkable similarities to those of another.
Whether these similarities are to be held mere coincidences, or whether
they are to be explained by the theory of a common ancestry in the
cradle of the world, is a side-issue into which I do not intend to
enter. Suffice it that the fact is true, especially of the peoples who
speak the Indo-European tongues. The lore which has for its foundation
permanent and universal acceptance in the hearts of mankind is preserved
by tradition, and remains independent of the criteria applied
instinctively and unconsciously to artistic compositions. The community
is one at heart, one in mind, one in method of expression. Tales are
recited, verses chanted, and the singer of a clan makes his version of a
popular story. Simultaneously other singers, it may be of other clans of
the same race, or of another race altogether, elaborate their versions
of the common theme. Meanwhile the first singer has again recited or
chanted his ballad, and, having forgotten the exact wording, has altered
it, and perhaps introduced improvements. The same happens in the other
cases. The various audiences carry away as much as they can remember,
and recite their versions, again with individual omissions, alterations,
and additions. Thus, by ever-widening circles, the tale is distributed
in countless forms over an unlimited area. The elements of the story
remain, wholly or in part, while the literary clothing is altered
according to the 'taste and fancy' of the reciter. The lore is now
traditional, whether it be in prose, as Maerchen, or in verse, as ballad.
And so it remains in oral circulation--and therefore still liable to
variation--until it is written down or printed. It is left 'masterless,'
unsigned; for of the original author's composition, may be, only a word
or two remains. It has passed through many mouths, and has been made
over countless times. But once written down it ceases _virum volitare
per ora_; the invention of printing has spoiled the powers of man's
memory.

We can now take up the tale at the fifteenth century; let us henceforth
confine our attention to England. It is agreed on all sides that the
fifteenth century was the period when, in England at least, the ballads
first became a prominent feature. Of historical ballads, _The Hunting of
the Cheviot_ was probably composed as early as 1400 or thereabouts. The
romances contemporaneously underwent a change, and took on a form nearer
to that of the ballad. Whatever may be the date of the origin of the
subject-matter, the literary clothing--language, mode of expression,
colour--of no ballad, as we now have it, is much, earlier than 1400. The
only possible exceptions to this statement are one or two of the Robin
Hood ballads--attributed to the thirteenth century by Professor Child,
but _adhuc sub judice_--and a ballad of sacred legend--_Judas_--which
exists in a thirteenth-century manuscript in the library of Trinity
College, Cambridge.

During the fifteenth century, the ballads, still purely narrative, were
cast abroad through the length and breadth of the land, undergoing
continual changes, modifications, enlargements, for better or for worse.
They told of romance and chivalry, of historical, quasi-historical, and
mythico-historical deeds, of the traditions of the Church and sacred
legend, and of the lore that gathers round the most popular of heroes,
Robin Hood. The earliest printed English ballad is the _Gest of Robyn
Hode_, which now remains in a fragment of about the end of the fifteenth
century.

The sixteenth century continued the process of the popularisation of
ballads. Minstrels, who, as a class, had been slowly perishing ever
since the invention of printing, were now vagrants, and the profession
was decadent. Towards the end of the century we hear of Richard Sheale,
whom we may describe as the first of the so-called 'Last of the
Minstrels.' He describes himself as a minstrel of Tamworth, his business
being to chant ballads and tell tales. We know that the ballad of _The
Hunting of the Cheviot_ was part of his repertory, for he wrote down his
version, which is still preserved in the Ashmolean MSS. At the end of
the sixteenth century the minstrels had fallen, in England at least,
into entire degradation. In 1597, Percy notes, a statute of Elizabeth
was passed including 'minstrels, wandering abroad,' amongst the other
'rogues, vagabonds, and sturdy beggars'; and fifty years later Cromwell
made a very similar ordinance.[6]

  [Footnote 6: But these were only re-enactments of existing laws. See
  Chambers, _Mediaeval Stage,_ i. p. 54.]

In Elizabeth's reign we first meet with the ballad-mongers and
professional authors of ballads. Simultaneously, or nearly so, comes the
degradation of the word 'ballad,' until it signifies either the genuine
popular ballad, or a satirical song, or a broadside, or almost any ditty
of the day. Of the ballad-mongers, we have mentioned Elderton, Deloney,
and Johnson. We might add a hundred others, from Anthony Munday to
Martin Parker, and even Tom Durfey, each of whom contributed largely to
the vast mushroom-literature that sprang up and flourished vigorously
for the next century. Chappell mentions that seven hundred and
ninety-six ballads remained at the end of 1560 in the cupboards of the
council-chamber of the Stationers' Company for transference to the new
wardens of the succeeding year. These, of course, would consist chiefly
of broadsides: the narrations of strange events, monstrosities, or 'true
tales' of the day.

It is true that many of the genuine popular ballads were rewritten to
suit contemporary taste. But the style of the seventeenth century
ballads cannot be compared to the noble straightforwardness and
simplicity of the ancient ballad. Let us place side by side the first
stanza of the _Hunting of the Cheviot_ and the first few verses of _Fair
Rosamond_, a very fair specimen of Deloney's work.

The popular ancient ballad wastes no time on preliminaries[7]:--

  [Footnote 7: A good notion of the way in which the old ballads
  plunge _in medias res_ may be obtained by reading the Index of First
  Lines.]

  'The Perse owt off Northombarlonde
    And avowe to God mayd he,
  That he wold hunte in the mowntayns
    Off Chyviat within days thre,
  In the magger of doughte Dogles;
    And all that ever with him be.'

Now for the milk-and-water:--

  'Whenas King Henry rulde this land,
    The second of that name,
  Besides the queene, he dearly lovde
    A faire and comely dame.

  Most peerlesse was her beautye founde,
    Her favour and her face;
  A sweeter creature in this worlde
    Could never prince embrace.

  Her crisped lockes like threads of golde
    Appeard to each man's sight;
  Her sparkling eyes, like Orient pearles,
    Did cast a heavenly light.'

Ritson's taste actually led him, in comparing the above two first
verses, to prefer the latter.

Or again we might contrast _Sir Patrick Spence_--

  'The King sits in Dumferling towne
    Drinking the blude reid wine:
  "O whar will I get a guid sailor,
    To sail this ship of mine?"'

with the _Children in the Wood_:--

  'Now ponder well, you parents deare,
    These wordes, which I shall write;
  A doleful story you shall heare,
    In time brought forth to light.'

Artificial, tedious, didactic. The author of the ancient ballad seldom
points, and never draws, a moral, and has unbounded faith in the
credulity of the audience. The seventeenth century balladists
pitchforked Nature into the midden.

These compositions were printed as soon as written, or, to be exact,
they were written for the press. We now class them as broadsides, that
is, ballads printed on one side of the paper. The difference between
these and the true ballad is the difference between art and nature. The
broadside ballad was a form of art, and a low form of art. They were
written by hacks for the press, sold in the streets, and pasted on the
walls of houses or rooms: Jamieson had a copy of _Young Beichan_ which
he picked off a wall in Piccadilly. They were generally ornamented with
crude woodcuts, remarkable for their artistic shortcomings and
infidelity to nature. Dr. Johnson's well-known lines--though in fact a
caricature of Percy's _Hermit of Warkworth_--ingeniously parody their
style:--

  'As with my hat upon my head,
    I walk'd along the Strand,
  I there did meet another man,
    With his hat in his hand.'

Broadside ballads, including a few of the genuine ancient ballads, still
enjoy a certain popularity. The once-famous Catnach Press still survives
in Seven Dials, and Mr. Such, of Union Street in the Borough, still
maintains what is probably the largest stock of broadsides now in
existence, including _Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight_ (or _May Colvin_),
perhaps the most widely dispersed ballad of any.

Minstrels of all sorts were by this time nearly extinct, in person if
not in name; their successors were the vendors of broadsides.
Nevertheless, survivors of the genuine itinerant reciters of ballads
have been discovered at intervals almost to the present day. Sir Walter
Scott mentions a person who 'acquired the name of Roswal and Lillian,
from singing that romance about the streets of Edinburgh' in 1770 or
thereabouts. He further alludes to 'John Graeme, of Sowport in
Cumberland, commonly called the Long Quaker, very lately alive.' Ritson
mentions a minstrel of Derbyshire, and another from Gloucester, who
chanted the ballad of _Lord Thomas and Fair Eleanor_. In 1845 J. H.
Dixon wrote of several men he had met, chiefly Yorkshire dalesmen, not
vagrants, but with a local habitation, who at Christmas-tide would sing
the old ballads. One of these was Francis King, known then throughout
the western dales of Yorkshire, and still remembered, as 'the Skipton
Minstrel.' After a merry Christmas meeting, in the year 1844, he walked
into the river near Gargrave, in Craven, and was drowned. In Gargrave
church-yard lie the remains of perhaps the actual 'last of the
minstrels.'[8]

  [Footnote 8: Unless we may attribute that distinction to the blind
  Irish bard Raftery, who flourished sixty years ago. See various
  accounts of him given by Lady Gregory (_Poets and Dreamers_) and
  W. B. Yeats (_The Celtic Twilight_, 1902). But he appears to have
  been more of an improviser than a reciter.]


+IV. Collectors and Editors.+

Now a word or two as to the collectors and editors. To take the
broadsides first, the largest collections are at Magdalene College,
Cambridge (eighteen hundred broadsides collected by Selden and Pepys),
in the Bodleian at Oxford, and in the British Museum. The Bodleian
contains collections made by Anthony-a-Wood, Douce, and Rawlinson; the
British Museum, the great Roxburghe and Bagford collections, which have
been reprinted and edited by William Chappell and the Rev. J. W.
Ebsworth for the Ballad Society, as well as other smaller volumes of
ballads.

But it is not among the broadsides that our noblest ballads are found.
The first attempt to collect popular ballads was made by the compiler of
three volumes issued in 1723 and 1725. The editor is said to have been
Ambrose Phillips, whose name and style combined to produce the word
'namby-pamby.' Next came Allan Ramsay, with 'the _Evergreen_,
a collection of Scots poems wrote by the ingenious before 1600.'--'By
the ingenious,' we note; not by the 'elegant.' The tide is already
beginning to turn; pitch-forked Nature will ever come back. Followed the
_Tea-Table Miscellany_, also compiled by Allan Ramsay, which contained
about twenty popular ballads, the rest being songs and ballads of modern
composition. The texts were, of course, chopped about and pruned to suit
contemporary taste. It was still necessary to adopt an apologetic
attitude on behalf of these barbarous and crude relics of antiquity.

These books paved the way to the great literary triumph of the century.
The first edition of Percy's _Reliques_ was issued in three volumes, in
1765. He received for it one hundred guineas, instant popularity and
patronage, and subsequently, the gratitude of succeeding centuries.

Nevertheless, Percy himself was so far under the influence of his
contemporaries that he felt it necessary to adopt the apologetic
attitude. In his preface he wrote:-- 'In a polished age like the
present, I am sensible that many of these reliques of antiquity will
require great allowances to be made for them.' And again:-- 'To atone
for the rudeness of the more obsolete poems, each volume concludes with
a few modern attempts in the same kind of writing; and to take off from
the tediousness of the longer narratives, they are everywhere
intermingled with little elegant pieces of the lyrical kind.' In short,
he could not trust that large child, the people of England, to take its
dose of powder without the conventional treacle. To vary the metaphor,
his famous Folio Manuscript he regarded as a Cinderella, and in his
capacity as fairy godmother refused to introduce her to the world
without hiding the slut's uncouth attire under fine raiment. To which
end, besides adding 'little elegant pieces,' he recast and rewrote 'the
more obsolete poems,' many of which came direct from the Folio
Manuscript. Are we to blame him for yielding to the taste of his day?

He did not satisfy every one. Ritson's immediate outcry is famous--and
Ritson stood almost alone. He did, indeed, go so far as to deny the
existence of the Folio Manuscript, and Percy was forced to confute him
by producing it. In the later editions of the _Reliques_, Percy sought
to conciliate him by revising his texts, so as to approximate them more
closely to his originals, but still Ritson cried out for the whole
truth, and nothing but the truth. And by this time he had supporters.
But the whole truth as regards the Folio was not to be divulged yet. The
manuscript was most jealously guarded.

Meanwhile the influence of the publication was having its effect. The
poetry of the schools, the poetry of the intellect, the poetry of art,
brought to its highest pitch by writers like Dryden and Pope, was
shelved; metrically exact diction, artificiality of expression,
carefully balanced antitheses, and all the mechanical devices of the
school were placed in abeyance. There was a general return to Nature, to
simplicity, to straightforwardness--not without imagination, however.
Wordsworth, besides insisting, in a famous passage, the Preface to the
_Lyrical Ballads_, on the spontaneity of good poetry, recorded his
tribute to the _Reliques_: 'I do not think that there is an able writer
in verse of the present day who would not be proud to acknowledge his
obligation to the _Reliques_.' While failing often to catch the gusto of
ancient poetry--witness his translations from Chaucer--Wordsworth was
full of the spirit--witness his rifacimento of _The Owl and the
Nightingale_--and, best of all, handed it on to Coleridge.[9] These two
fought side by side against the conventions of the preceding century,
against Dryden, Addison, Pope, and last, but not least, Johnson. Some
have gone so far as to place the definite turning-point in the year
1798, the year of the publication of the _Lyrical Ballads_. Coleridge's
_annus mirabilis_ was 1797, and the publication of _The Ancient Mariner_
is significant of the change. But we need not bind ourselves down to any
given year. Enough that the revolution was effected, and that it is
scarcely exaggeration to say that it was almost entirely due to the
publication of the _Reliques_.

  [Footnote 9: 'He [Coleridge] said the _Lyrical Ballads_ were an
  experiment about to be tried by him and Wordsworth, to see how far
  the public taste would endure poetry written in a more natural and
  simple style than had hitherto been attempted; totally discarding
  the artifices of poetical diction, and making use only of such words
  as had probably been common in the most ordinary language since the
  days of Henry II.'--_Hazlitt._]

Sir Walter Scott remembered to the day of his death the place where he
first made acquaintance with the _Reliques_ in his thirteenth year. 'I
remember well the spot where I read those volumes for the first time. It
was beneath a large platanus-tree, in the ruins of what had been
intended for an old-fashioned arbour in the garden I have mentioned. The
summer day sped onward so fast, that, notwithstanding the sharp appetite
of thirteen, I forgot the hour of dinner, was sought for with anxiety,
and was still found entranced in my intellectual banquet.'

Almost immediately competitors appeared in the field, and especial
attention was given to Scotland, exceedingly rich ground, as it proved.
In 1769, David Herd published his collection of _Ancient and Modern
Scots Songs, Heroic Ballads, etc._ Then, at intervals of two or three
years only, came the compilations of Evans, Pinkerton, Ritson, Johnson;
in 1802 Sir Walter Scott's _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, fit to
be placed side by side with the _Reliques_; in 1806 Jamieson's _Popular
Ballads and Songs_; then Finlay, Gilchrist, Laing, and Utterson. In 1828
the egregious Peter Buchan produced _Ancient Ballads and Songs of the
North of Scotland, hitherto unpublished_. Buchan hints that he kept a
pedlar or beggarman--'a wight of Homer's craft'--travelling through
Scotland to pick up ballads; and one of the two--probably Buchan--must
have been possessed of powerful inventive faculties. Each of Buchan's
ballads is tediously spun out to enormous and unnecessary length, and is
filled with solecisms and inanities quite inconsistent with the spirit
of the true ballad. But Buchan undoubtedly gained fresh material,
however much he clothed it; and his ballads are now reprinted, as
Professor Child says, for much the same reason that thieves are
photographed.

Scotland continued the work with two excellent students and pioneers,
George Kinloch and William Motherwell. Next, Robert Chambers published a
collection of eighty ballads, some being spurious. This was in 1829.
Thirty years later Chambers came to the conclusion that 'the high-class
romantic ballads of Scotland ... are not older than the early part of
the eighteenth century, and are mainly, if not wholly, the production of
one mind.' And this one mind, he thinks, was probably that of Elizabeth,
Lady Wardlaw, the acknowledged forger of the ballad _Hardyknute_, which
deceived so many. Chambers, of course, was absurdly mistaken.

So the work of collecting and editing progressed through the nineteenth
century, till it culminated in the final edition of Professor Child's
_English and Scottish Popular Ballads_. But even this is scarcely his
greatest benefaction to the study of ballads. We must confess that had
it not been for the insistence of this American scholar, the Percy Folio
Manuscript would remain a sealed book. For six years Professor Child
persecuted Dr. Furnivall, who persecuted in turn the owners of the
Folio, even offering sums of money, for permission to print the MS.
Eventually they succeeded, and not only succeeded in giving to the world
an exact reprint,[10] but also once for all secured the precious
original for the British Museum, where it now remains.[11]

  [Footnote 10: _Bishop Percy's Folio Manuscript_, edited by J. W.
  Hales and F. J. Furnivall, 4 vols., 1867-8. Printed for the Early
  English Text Society and subscribers.]

  [Footnote 11: Additional MS. 27, 879.]

And what is this manuscript? In brief, it is an example of the
commonplace books which abounded in the seventeenth century. But it is
unique in containing a large proportion of early romances and ballads,
as well as the lyrics of the day. Of the hundreds of commonplace books
made during that century, no other example is known which contains such
matter, for the obvious and simple reason that such matter was
despised.[12] The handwriting is put by experts at about 1650; it cannot
be much later, and one song in it contains a passage which fixes the
date of that song to the year 1643. Percy discovered the book 'lying
dirty on the floor under a bureau in the parlour' of his friend Humphrey
Pitt of Shifnal, in Shropshire, 'being used by maids to light the fire.'
Mr. Pitt's fires were lighted with half-pages torn out from incomparably
early and precious versions of certain Robin Hood and other ballads.
Percy notes that he was very young when he first got possession of the
MS., and had not then learned to reverence it. When he put it into
boards to lend to Dr. Johnson, the bookbinder pared the margins, and cut
away top and bottom lines. In editing the _Reliques_, Percy actually
tore out pages 'to save the trouble of transcribing.' In spite of all,
it remains a unique and inestimably valuable manuscript. Its writer was
presumably a Lancashire man, from his use of certain dialect words, and
was assuredly a man of slight education; nevertheless a national
benefactor.

  [Footnote 12: Cp. _Love's Labour's Lost_:--

  +Armado.+ Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and the Beggar?

  +Moth.+ The world was very guilty of such a ballad some three ages
  since; but I think now 'tis not to be found.]

In speaking of manuscripts, we must not omit to mention the Scottish
collectors. Most of them went to work in the right way, seeking out aged
men and women in out-of-the-way corners of Scotland, and taking down
their ballads from their lips. If we condemn these editors for
subsequently adorning the traditional versions, we must be grateful to
them for preserving their manuscripts so that we can still read the
ballads as they received them. The old ladies of Scotland seem to have
possessed better memories than the old men. Besides Sir Walter Scott's
anonymous 'Old Lady,' there was another to whom we owe some of the
finest versions of the Scottish ballads. This was Mrs. Brown, daughter
of Professor Gordon of Aberdeen. Born in 1747, she learned most of her
ballads before she was twelve years old, or before 1759, from the
singing of her aunt, Mrs. Farquhar of Braemar. From about twenty to
forty years later, she repeated her ballads, first to Jamieson, and
afterwards to William Tytler, each of whom compiled a manuscript. The
latter, the Tytler-Brown MS., unfortunately is lost, but the ballads are
practically all known from the other manuscript and various sources.

Perhaps the richest part of our stock are the Scottish and Border
ballads. Beside them, most of our mawkish English ballads look pale and
withered. The reason, perhaps, may be traced to the effect of natural
surroundings on literature. The English ballads were printed or written
down at a period which is early compared with the date of collection of
the Scottish ballads. In fact, it is only during the last hundred and
thirty years that the ballads of Scotland have been recovered from oral
tradition. In mountainous districts, where means of communication and
intercourse are naturally limited, tradition dies more hard than in
countries where there are no such barriers. Moreover, as Professor Child
points out, 'oral transmission by the unlettered is not to be feared
nearly so much as by minstrels, nor by minstrels nearly so much as
modern editors.' Svend Grundtvig illustrates this from his twenty-nine
versions of the Danish ballad 'Ribold and Guldborg.' In versions from
recitation, he has shown that there occur certain verses which have
never been printed, but which are found in old manuscripts; and these
recited versions also contain verses which have never been either
printed or written down in Danish, but which are to be found still in
recitation, not only in Norwegian and Swedish versions, but even in
Icelandic tradition of two hundred years' standing.


Such, then, is the history of our ballads, so far as it may be stated in
a few pages. With regard to origins, the 'nebular' theory cannot be
summarily dismissed;[13] but, after weighing the evidence and arguments,
the balance of probability would seem to lie with the supporters of the
'artistic' theory in a modified form. The ballad may say, with Topsy,
'Spec's I growed'; but _vires adquirit eundo_ is only true of the ballad
to a certain point; progress, which includes the invention of printing
and the absorption into cities of the unsophisticated rural population,
has since killed the oral circulation of the ballad. Thus it was not an
unmixed evil that in the Middle Ages, as a rule, the ballads were
neglected; for this neglect, while it rendered the discovery of their
sources almost impossible, gave the ballads for a time into the
safe-keeping of their natural possessors, the common people.
Civilisation, advancing more swiftly in some countries than in others,
has left rich stores here, and little there. Our close kinsmen of
Denmark, and the rest of Scandinavia, possess a ballad-literature of
which they do well to be proud; and Spain is said to have inherited even
better legacies. A study of our native ballads yields much interest,
much delight, and much regret that the gleaning is comparatively so
small. But what we still have is of immense value. The ballads may not
be required again to revoke English literature from flights into
artificiality and subjectivity; but they form a leaf in the life of the
English people, they uphold the dignity of human nature, they carry us
away to the legends, the romances, the beliefs, the traditions of our
ancestors, and take us out of ourselves to 'fleet the time carelessly,
as they did in the golden world.'

  [Footnote 13: Professor Gummere (_The Beginnings of Poetry_) is
  perhaps the strongest champion of this theory, and takes an extreme
  view.]




BALLADS IN THE FIRST SERIES



The only possible method of classifying ballads is by their
subject-matter; and even thus the lines of demarcation are frequently
blurred. It is, however, possible to divide them roughly into several
main classes, such as ballads of romance and chivalry; ballads of
superstition and of the supernatural; Arthurian, historical, sacred,
domestic ballads; ballads of Robin Hood and other outlaws; and so forth.

The present volume is concerned with ballads of romance and chivalry;
but it is useless to press too far the appropriateness of this title.
_The Nutbrown Maid_, for instance, is not a true ballad at all, but an
amoebaean idyll, or dramatic lyric. But, on the whole, these ballads
chiefly tell of life, love, death, and human passions, of revenge and
murder and heroic deed.

                  'These things are life:
  And life, some think, is worthy of the Muse.'

They are left unexpurgated, as they came down to us: to apologise for
things now left unsaid would be to apologise not only for the heroic
epoch in which they were born, but also for human nature.

And how full of life that heroic epoch was! Of what stature must Lord
William's steed have been, if Lady Maisry could hear him sneeze a mile
away! How chivalrous of Gawaine to wed an ugly bride to save his king's
promise, and how romantic and delightful to discover her on the morrow
to have changed into a well-fared may!

The popular Muse regards not probability. Old Robin, who hails from
Portugal, marries the daughter of the mayor of Linne, that unknown town
so dear to ballads. In _Young Bekie_, Burd Isbel's heart is wondrous
sair to find, on liberating her lover, that the bold rats and mice have
eaten his yellow hair. We must not think of objecting that the boldest
rat would never eat a live prisoner's hair, but only applaud the
picturesque indication of durance vile.

In the same ballad, Burd Isbel, 'to keep her from thinking
lang'--a prevalent complaint--is told to take 'twa marys' on her
journey. We suddenly realise how little there was to amuse the Burd
Isbels of yore. Twa marys provide a week's diversion. Otherwise her only
occupation would have been to kemb her golden hair, or perhaps, like
Fair Annie, drink wan water to preserve her complexion.

But if their occupations were few, their emotions and affections were
strong. Ellen endures insult after insult from Child Waters with the
faithful patience of a Griselda. Hector the hound recognises Burd Isbel
after years of separation. Was any lord or lady in need of a messenger,
there was sure to be a little boy at hand to run their errand soon,
faithful unto death. On receipt of painful news, they kicked over the
table, and the silver plate flew into the fire. When roused, men
murdered with a brown sword, and ladies with a penknife. We are left
uncertain whether the Cruel Mother did not also 'howk' a grave for her
murdered babe with that implement.

But readers will easily pick out and enjoy for themselves other
instances of the naive and picturesque in these ballads.




GLOSSARY OF BALLAD COMMONPLACES


There survive in ballads a few conventional phrases, some of which
appear to have been preserved by tradition beyond an understanding of
their import. I give here short notes on a few of the more interesting
phrases and words which appear in the present volume, the explanations
being too cumbrous for footnotes.


+Bow.+

'bent his bow and swam,' _Lady Maisry_, 21.2; _Johney Scot_, 10.2; _Lord
Ingram and Chiel Wyet_, 12.2; etc.

'set his bent bow to his breast,' _Lady Maisry_, 22.3; _Lord Ingram and
Chiel Wyet_, 13.3; _Fause Footrage_, 33.1; etc.

  Child attempts no explanation of this striking phrase, which,
  I believe, all editors have either openly or silently neglected.
  Perhaps 'bent' may mean _un_-bent, _i.e._ with the string of the bow
  slacked. If so, for what reason was it done before swimming? We can
  understand that it would be of advantage to keep the string dry, but
  how is it better protected when unstrung? Or, again, was it carried
  unstrung, and literally 'bent' before swimming? Or was the bow solid
  enough to be of support in the water?

  Some one of these explanations may satisfy the first phrase (as
  regards swimming); but why does the messenger 'set his bent bow to
  his breast' before leaping the castle wall? It seems to me that the
  two expressions must stand or fall together; therefore the entire
  lack of suggestions to explain the latter phrase drives me to
  distrust of any of the explanations given for the former.

  A suggestion recently made to me appears to dispose of all
  difficulties; and, once made, is convincing in its very obviousness.
  It is, that 'bow' means 'elbow,' or simply 'arm.' The first phrase
  then exhibits the commonest form of ballad-conventionalities,
  picturesque redundancy: the parallel phrase is 'he slacked his shoon
  and ran.' In the second phrase it is, indeed, necessary to suppose
  the wall to be breast-high; the messenger places one elbow on the
  wall, pulls himself up, and vaults across.

  Lexicographers distinguish between the Old English _b[-o]g_ or
  _b[-o]h_ (O.H.G. buog = arm; Sanskrit, bahu-s = arm), which means arm,
  arch, bough, or bow of a ship; and the Old English _boga_ (O.H.G.
  bogo), which means the archer's bow. The distinction is continued in
  Middle English, from the twelfth to the fifteenth century. Instances
  of the use of the word as equivalent to 'arm' may be found in Old
  English in _King Alfred's Translation of Gregory's Pastoral Care_
  (E.E.T.S., 1871, ed. H. Sweet) written in West Saxon dialect of the
  ninth century.

  It is true that the word does not survive elsewhere in this meaning,
  but I give the suggestion for what it is worth.


+Briar.+

'briar and rose,' _Douglas Tragedy_, 18, 19, 20; _Fair Margaret and
Sweet William_, 18, 19, 20; _Lord Lovel_, 9, 10; etc.

'briar and birk,' _Lord Thomas and Fair Annet_, 29, 30; _Fair Janet_,
30; etc.

'roses,' _Lady Alice_, 5, 6. (See introductory note to _Lord Lovel_,
p. 67.)

  The ballads which exhibit this pleasant conception that, after
  death, the spirits of unfortunate lovers pass into plants, trees, or
  flowers springing from their graves, are not confined to European
  folklore. Besides appearing in English, Gaelic, Swedish, Norwegian,
  Danish, German, French, Roumanian, Romaic, Portuguese, Servian,
  Wendish, Breton, Italian, Albanian, Russian, etc., we find it
  occurring in Afghanistan and Persia. As a rule, the branches of the
  trees intertwine; but in some cases they only bend towards each
  other, and kiss when the wind blows.

  In an Armenian tale a curious addition is made. A young man,
  separated by her father from his sweetheart because he was of a
  different religion, perished with her, and the two were buried by
  their friends in one grave. Roses grew from the grave, and sought to
  intertwine, but a _thorn-bush_ sprang up between them and prevented
  it. The thorn here is symbolical of religious belief.


+Pin.+

'thrilled upon a pin,' _Glasgerion_, 10.2.

'knocked at the ring,' _Fair Margaret and Sweet William_, 11.2.

(_Cp._ 'lifted up the pin,' _Fair Janet_, 14.2.)

  Throughout the Scottish ballads the expression is 'tirl'd at the pin,'
  _i.e._ rattled or twisted the pin.

  The pin appears to have been the external part of the door-latch,
  attached by day thereto by means of a leathern thong, which at night
  was disconnected with the latch to prevent any unbidden guest from
  entering. Thus any one 'tirling at the pin' does not attempt to open
  the door, but signifies his presence to those within.

  The ring was merely part of an ordinary knocker, and had nothing to
  do with the latching of the door.


+Sword.+

'bright brown sword,' _Glasgerion_, 22.1; _Old Robin of Portingale_,
22.1; _Child Maurice_, 26.1, 27.1; 'good browne sword,' _Marriage of Sir
Gawaine_, 24.3; etc.

'dried it on his sleeve,' _Glasgerion_, 22.2; _Child Maurice_, 27.2 ('on
the grasse,' 26.2); 'straiked it o'er a strae,' _Bonny Birdy_, 15.2;
'struck it across the plain,' _Johney Scot_, 32.2; etc.

  In Anglo-Saxon, the epithet 'brun' as applied to a sword has been
  held to signify either that the sword was of bronze, or that the
  sword gleamed. It has further been suggested that sword-blades may
  have been artificially bronzed, like modern gun-barrels.

  'Striped it thro' the straw' and many similar expressions all refer
  to the whetting of a sword, generally just before using it. Straw
  (unless 'strae' and 'straw' mean something else) would appear to be
  very poor stuff on which to sharpen swords, but Glasgerion's sleeve
  would be even less effective; perhaps, however, 'dried' should be
  'tried.' Johney Scot sharpened his sword on the ground.


+Miscellaneous.+

'gare' = gore, part of a woman's dress; _Brown Robin_, 10.4; cp.
_Glasgerion_, 19.4.

  Generally of a knife, apparently on a chatelaine. But in _Lamkin_
  12.2, of a man's dress.

'Linne,' 'Lin,' _Young Bekie_, 5.4; _Old Robin of Portingale_, 2.1.

  A stock ballad-locality, castle or town. Perhaps to be identified
  with the city of Lincoln, perhaps with Lynn, or King's Lynn, in
  Norfolk, where pilgrims of the fourteenth century visited the Rood
  Chapel of Our Lady of Lynn, on their way to Walsingham; with equal
  probability it is not to be identified at all with any known town.

'shot-window,' _Gay Goshawk_, 8.3; _Brown Robin_, 3.3; _Lamkin_, 7.3;
etc.

  This commonplace phrase seems to vary in meaning. It may be 'a
  shutter of timber with a few inches of glass above it' (Wodrow's
  _History of the Sufferings of the Church of Scotland_, Edinburgh,
  1721-2, 2 vols., in vol. ii. p. 286); it may be simply 'a window to
  open and shut,' as Ritson explains it; or again, as is implied in
  Jamieson's _Etymological Dictionary of the Scottish Language_, an
  out-shot window, or bow-window. The last certainly seems to be
  intended in certain instances.

'thought lang' _Young Bekie_, 16.4; _Brown Adam_, 5.2; _Johney Scot_,
6.2; _Fause Footrage_, 25.2; etc.

  This simply means 'thought it long,' or 'thought it slow,' as we
  should say in modern slang; in short, 'was bored,' or 'weary.'

'wild-wood swine,' a simile for drunkenness, _Brown Robin_, 7.4; _Fause
Footrage_, 16.4.

  _Cp._ Shakespeare, _All's Well that Ends Well_, Act IV. 3, 286:
  'Drunkenness is his best virtue; for he will be swine-drunk.' It
  seems to be nothing more than a popular comparison.




LIST OF BOOKS FOR BALLAD STUDY FOR ENGLISH READERS


A.--The Literary History of Ballads

The Introductions, etc., to the Collections of Ballads in List B.

1861. _David Irving._ History of Scottish Poetry.

1871. _Thomas Warton._ History of English Poetry, ed. W. Carew Hazlitt.
4 vols.

1875. _Andrew Lang._ Article in Encyclopaedia Britannica (9th edition),
vol. iii.

1876. _Stopford Brooke._ English Literature. New edition, enlarged,
1897.

1883. _W. W. Newell._ Games and Songs of American Children. New York.

1887. _Andrew Lang._ Myth, Ritual, and Religion. 2 vols.

1893. _John Veitch._ History and Poetry of the Scottish Border. 2 vols.

1893. _F. J. Child._ Article 'Ballads' in Johnson's Cyclopaedia, vol. i.
pp. 464-6.

1895-97. _W. J. Courthope._ A History of English Poetry. Vols. i.
and ii.

1897. _G. Gregory Smith._ The Transition Period: being vol. iv. of
Periods of English Literature, ed. G. Saintsbury.

1898. _Andrew Lang_ in _Quarterly Review_ for July.

1901. _F. B. Gummere._ The Beginnings of Poetry.

1903. _E. K. Chambers._ The Mediaeval Stage. 2 vols.

1903. _Andrew Lang_ in _Folk-Lore_ for June.

1903. _J. H. Millar._ A Literary History of Scotland.


B.--Collections of Ballads

[_This list does not pretend to be exhaustive, but to give the more
important collections, especially those containing trustworthy
Introductions._]

1723-25. A Collection of Old Ballads, corrected from the best and most
ancient copies extant. 3 vols. London.

1724. _Allan Ramsay._ The Ever-Green. 2 vols. Edinburgh.

1724-27. _Allan Ramsay._ The Tea-Table Miscellany. First eight editions
in 3 vols., Edinburgh, Dublin, and London. Ninth and subsequent editions
in four volumes, or four volumes in one, London.

1765. _Thomas Percy, Bishop of Dromore._ Reliques of Ancient English
Poetry. 3 vols. London.

1769. _David Herd._ The Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, Heroic Ballads,
etc. Edinburgh. The second edition, 1776, under a slightly different
title. 2 vols. Edinburgh.

1781. _John Pinkerton._ Scottish Tragic Ballads. London.

1787-1803. _James Johnson._ The Scots Musical Museum. 6 vols. Edinburgh.

1790. _Joseph Ritson._ Ancient Songs, etc. London. (Printed 1787, dated
1790, and published 1792.)

1791. _Joseph Ritson._ Pieces of Ancient Popular Poetry. London.

1794. _Joseph Ritson._ Scotish Song. 2 vols. London.

1795.   "    "   Robin Hood. 2 vols. London.

1802-3. _Walter Scott._ Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border. 3 vols. Kelso
and Edinburgh.

1806. _Robert Jamieson._ Popular Ballads and Songs from Tradition,
Manuscripts, and Scarce Editions. 2 vols. Edinburgh.

1808. _John Finlay._ Scottish Historical and Romantic Ballads, chiefly
ancient. 2 vols. Edinburgh.

1822. _Alexander Laing._ Scarce Ancient Ballads. Aberdeen.

1823. _Alexander Laing._ The Thistle of Scotland. Aberdeen.

1823. _Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe._ A Ballad Book. Edinburgh.

1824. _James Maidment._ A North Countrie Garland. Edinburgh.

1826. _Robert Chambers._ The Popular Rhymes of Scotland. Edinburgh.

1827. _George Kinloch._ Ancient Scottish Ballads. London and Edinburgh.

1827. _William Motherwell._ Minstrelsy, Ancient and Modern. Glasgow.

1828. _Peter Buchan._ Ancient Ballads and Songs of the North of
Scotland. 2 vols. Edinburgh.

1834. The Universal Songster. 3 vols. London.

1845. _Alexander Whitelaw._ The Book of Scottish Ballads. Glasgow,
Edinburgh, and London.

1846. _James Henry Dixon._ Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the
Peasantry of England. London.

1847. _John Matthew Gutch._ A Lytyll Geste of Robin Hode. 2 vols.
London.

1855-59. _William Chappell._ Popular Music of the Olden Time. 2 vols.
London.

1857. _Robert Bell._ Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry
of England. London.

1857-59. _Francis James Child._ English and Scottish Ballads. 8 vols.
2nd edition, 1864.

1864. _William Allingham._ The Ballad Book. London.

1867-68. _J. W. Hales_ and _F. J. Furnivall_. Bishop Percy's Folio
Manuscript. 4 vols. London.

1882-98. _Francis James Child._ The English and Scottish Popular
Ballads. 5 vols. Boston, New York, and London.

1895. _Andrew Lang._ Border Ballads. London: Lawrence and Bullen.

1897. _Andrew Lang._ A Collection of Ballads. London: Chapman and Hall's
'Diamond Library.'

1897. _Francis B. Gummere._ Old English Ballads. Boston, U.S.A. Athenaeum
Press Series.

1902. _T. F. Henderson._ Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, by Sir
Walter Scott. New edition. 3 vols. London.




NOTE ON THE ILLUSTRATIONS


The illustrations on pp. 28, 75, and 118 are taken from Royal MS. 10. E.
iv. (of the fourteenth century) in the British Museum, where they occur
on folios 34 _verso_, 215 _recto_, and 254 _recto_ respectively. The
designs in the original form a decorated margin at the foot of each
page, and are outlined in ink and roughly tinted in three or four
colours. Much use is made of them in the illustrations to J. J.
Jusserand's _English Wayfaring Life in the Middle Ages_, where
M. Jusserand rightly points out that this MS. 'has perhaps never been so
thoroughly studied as it deserves.'




GLASGERION


  Ther herde I pleyen on an harpe
  That souned bothe wel and sharpe,
  Orpheus ful craftely,
  And on his syde, faste by,
  Sat the harper Orion,
  And Eacides Chiron,
  And other harpers many oon,
  And the Bret[A] Glascurion.

      --Chaucer, _Hous of Fame_, III.


+The Text+, from the Percy Folio, luckily is complete, saving an
omission of two lines. A few obvious corrections have been introduced,
and the Folio reading given in a footnote. Percy printed the ballad in
the _Reliques_, with far fewer alterations than usual.

+The Story+ is also told in a milk-and-water Scotch version,
_Glenkindie_, doubtless mishandled by Jamieson, who 'improved' it from
two traditional sources. The admirable English ballad gives a striking
picture of the horror of 'churles blood' proper to feudal days.

In the quotation above, Chaucer places Glascurion with Orpheus, Arion,
and Chiron, four great harpers. It is not improbable that Glascurion and
Glasgerion represent the Welsh bard Glas Keraint (Keraint the Blue Bard,
the chief bard wearing a blue robe of office), said to have been an
eminent poet, the son of Owain, Prince of Glamorgan.

The oath taken 'by oak and ash and thorn' (stanza 18) is a relic of very
early times. An oath 'by corn' is in _Young Hunting_.

  [Footnote A: From Skeat's edition: elsewhere quoted 'gret
  Glascurion.']


GLASGERION

  1.
  Glasgerion was a king's own son,
    And a harper he was good;
  He harped in the king's chamber,
    Where cup and candle stood,
  And so did he in the queen's chamber,
    Till ladies waxed wood.

  2.
  And then bespake the king's daughter,
    And these words thus said she:
  ...   ...   ...
  ...   ...   ...

  3.
  Said, 'Strike on, strike on, Glasgerion,
    Of thy striking do not blin;
  There's never a stroke comes over this harp
    But it glads my heart within.'

  4.
  'Fair might you fall, lady,' quoth he;
    'Who taught you now to speak?
  I have loved you, lady, seven year;
    My heart I durst ne'er break.'

  5.
  'But come to my bower, my Glasgerion,
    When all men are at rest;
  As I am a lady true of my promise,
    Thou shalt be a welcome guest.'

  6.
  But home then came Glasgerion,
    A glad man, Lord, was he!
  'And come thou hither, Jack, my boy,
    Come hither unto me.

  7.
  'For the king's daughter of Normandy
    Her love is granted me,
  And before the cock have crowen
    At her chamber must I be.'

  8.
  'But come you hither, master,' quoth he,
    'Lay your head down on this stone;
  For I will waken you, master dear,
    Afore it be time to gone.'

  9.
  But up then rose that lither lad,
    And did on hose and shoon;
  A collar he cast upon his neck,
    He seemed a gentleman.

  10.
  And when he came to that lady's chamber,
    He thrilled upon a pin.
  The lady was true of her promise,
    Rose up, and let him in.

  11.
  He did not take the lady gay
    To bolster nor no bed,
  But down upon her chamber-floor
    Full soon he hath her laid.

  12.
  He did not kiss that lady gay
    When he came nor when he yode;
  And sore mistrusted that lady gay
    He was of some churles blood.

  13.
  But home then came that lither lad,
    And did off his hose and shoon.
  And cast that collar from about his neck;
    He was but a churles son:
  'Awaken,' quoth he, 'my master dear,
    I hold it time to be gone.

  14.
  'For I have saddled your horse, master,
    Well bridled I have your steed;
  Have not I served a good breakfast?
    When time comes I have need.'

  15.
  But up then rose good Glasgerion,
    And did on both hose and shoon,
  And cast a collar about his neck;
    He was a kinges son.

  16.
  And when he came to that lady's chamber,
    He thrilled upon a pin;
  The lady was more than true of her promise,
    Rose up, and let him in.

  17.
  Says, 'Whether have you left with me
    Your bracelet or your glove?
  Or are you back returned again
    To know more of my love?'

  18.
  Glasgerion swore a full great oath
    By oak and ash and thorn,
  'Lady, I was never in your chamber
    Sith the time that I was born.'

  19.
  'O then it was your little foot-page
    Falsely hath beguiled me':
  And then she pull'd forth a little pen-knife
    That hanged by her knee,
  Says, 'There shall never no churles blood
    Spring within my body.'

  20.
  But home then went Glasgerion,
    A woe man, good [Lord], was he;
  Says, 'Come hither, thou Jack, my boy,
    Come thou thither to me.

  21.
  'For if I had killed a man to-night,
    Jack, I would tell it thee;
  But if I have not killed a man to-night,
    Jack, thou hast killed three!'

  22.
  And he pull'd out his bright brown sword,
    And dried it on his sleeve,
  And he smote off that lither lad's head,
    And asked no man no leave.

  23.
  He set the sword's point till his breast,
    The pommel till a stone;
  Thorough that falseness of that lither lad
    These three lives were all gone.

  [Annotations:
  1.4: Folio:-- 'where cappe & candle yoode.' Percy in the _Reliques_
    (1767) printed 'cuppe and _caudle_ stoode.'
  1.6: 'wood,' mad, wild (with delight).
  3.2: 'blin,' cease.
  4.4: _i.e._ durst never speak my mind.
  6.1: 'home'; Folio _whom_.
  7.3,4: These lines are reversed in the Folio.
  9.1: 'lither,' idle, wicked.
  10.2: 'thrilled,' twirled or rattled; cp. 'tirled at the pin,' a stock
    ballad phrase (Scots).
  12.2: 'yode,' went.
  14.4: 'time': Folio _times_.
  17.3: Folio _you are_.
  22.2: Another commonplace of the ballads. The Scotch variant is
    generally, 'And striped it thro' the straw.' See special section
    of the Introduction.
  23.1,2: 'till,' to, against.]




YOUNG BEKIE


+The Text+ is that of the Jamieson-Brown MS., taken down from the
recitation of Mrs. Brown about 1783. In printing the ballad, Jamieson
collated with the above two other Scottish copies, one in MS., another a
stall-copy, a third from recitation in the north of England, a fourth
'picked off an old wall in Piccadilly' by the editor.

+The Story+ has several variations of detail in the numerous versions
known (Young Bicham, Brechin, Bekie, Beachen, Beichan, Bichen, Lord
Beichan, Lord Bateman, Young Bondwell, etc.), but the text here given is
one of the most complete and vivid, and contains besides one feature
(the 'Belly Blin') lost in all other versions but one.

A similar story is current in the ballad-literature of Scandinavia,
Spain, and Italy; but the English tale has undoubtedly been affected by
the charming legend of Gilbert Becket, the father of Saint Thomas, who,
having been captured by Admiraud, a Saracen prince, and held in durance
vile, was freed by Admiraud's daughter, who then followed him to
England, knowing no English but 'London' and 'Gilbert'; and after much
tribulation, found him and was married to him. 'Becket' is sufficiently
near 'Bekie' to prove contamination, but not to prove that the legend is
the origin of the ballad.

The Belly Blin (Billie Blin = billie, a man; blin', blind, and so Billie
Blin = Blindman's Buff, formerly called Hoodman Blind) occurs in certain
other ballads, such as _Cospatrick_, _Willie's Lady_, and the _Knight
and the Shepherd's Daughter_; also in a mutilated ballad of the Percy
Folio, _King Arthur and King Cornwall_, under the name Burlow Beanie. In
the latter case he is described as 'a lodly feend, with seuen heads, and
one body,' breathing fire; but in general he is a serviceable household
demon. Cp. German _bilwiz_, and Dutch _belewitte_.


YOUNG BEKIE

  1.
  Young Bekie was as brave a knight
    As ever sail'd the sea;
  An' he's doen him to the court of France,
    To serve for meat and fee.

  2.
  He had nae been i' the court of France
    A twelvemonth nor sae long,
  Til he fell in love with the king's daughter,
    An' was thrown in prison strong.

  3.
  The king he had but ae daughter,
    Burd Isbel was her name;
  An' she has to the prison-house gane,
    To hear the prisoner's mane.

  4.
  'O gin a lady woud borrow me,
    At her stirrup-foot I woud rin;
  Or gin a widow wad borrow me,
    I woud swear to be her son.

  5.
  'Or gin a virgin woud borrow me,
    I woud wed her wi' a ring;
  I'd gi' her ha's, I'd gie her bowers,
    The bonny tow'rs o' Linne.'

  6.
  O barefoot, barefoot gaed she but,
    An' barefoot came she ben;
  It was no for want o' hose an' shoone,
    Nor time to put them on;

  7.
  But a' for fear that her father dear,
    Had heard her making din:
  She's stown the keys o' the prison-house dor
    An' latten the prisoner gang.

  8.
  O whan she saw him, Young Bekie,
    Her heart was wondrous sair!
  For the mice but an' the bold rottons
    Had eaten his yallow hair.

  9.
  She's gi'en him a shaver for his beard,
    A comber till his hair,
  Five hunder pound in his pocket,
    To spen', and nae to spair.

  10.
  She's gi'en him a steed was good in need,
    An' a saddle o' royal bone,
  A leash o' hounds o' ae litter,
    An' Hector called one.

  11.
  Atween this twa a vow was made,
    'Twas made full solemnly,
  That or three years was come and gane,
    Well married they shoud be.

  12.
  He had nae been in's ain country
    A twelvemonth till an end,
  Till he's forc'd to marry a duke's daughter,
    Or than lose a' his land.

  13.
  'Ohon, alas!' says Young Bekie,
    'I know not what to dee;
  For I canno win to Burd Isbel,
    And she kensnae to come to me.'

  14.
  O it fell once upon a day
    Burd Isbel fell asleep,
  An' up it starts the Belly Blin,
    An' stood at her bed-feet.

  15.
  'O waken, waken, Burd Isbel,
    How [can] you sleep so soun',
  Whan this is Bekie's wedding day,
    An' the marriage gain' on?

  16.
  'Ye do ye to your mither's bow'r,
    Think neither sin nor shame;
  An' ye tak twa o' your mither's marys,
    To keep ye frae thinking lang.

  17.
  'Ye dress yoursel' in the red scarlet,
    An' your marys in dainty green,
  An' ye pit girdles about your middles
    Woud buy an earldome.

  18.
  'O ye gang down by yon sea-side,
    An' down by yon sea-stran';
  Sae bonny will the Hollans boats
    Come rowin' till your han'.

  19.
  'Ye set your milk-white foot abord,
    Cry, Hail ye, Domine!
  An' I shal be the steerer o't,
    To row you o'er the sea.'

  20.
  She's tane her till her mither's bow'r,
    Thought neither sin nor shame,
  An' she took twa o' her mither's marys,
    To keep her frae thinking lang.

  21.
  She dress'd hersel' i' the red scarlet.
    Her marys i' dainty green,
  And they pat girdles about their middles
    Woud buy an earldome.

  22.
  An' they gid down by yon sea-side,
    An' down by yon sea-stran';
  Sae bonny did the Hollan boats
    Come rowin' to their han'.

  23.
  She set her milk-white foot on board,
    Cried 'Hail ye, Domine!'
  An' the Belly Blin was the steerer o't,
    To row her o'er the sea.

  24.
  Whan she came to Young Bekie's gate,
    She heard the music play;
  Sae well she kent frae a' she heard,
    It was his wedding day.

  25.
  She's pitten her han' in her pocket,
    Gin the porter guineas three;
  'Hae, tak ye that, ye proud porter,
    Bid the bride-groom speake to me.'

  26.
  O whan that he cam up the stair,
    He fell low down on his knee:
  He hail'd the king, an' he hail'd the queen,
    An' he hail'd him, Young Bekie.

  27.
  'O I've been porter at your gates
    This thirty years an' three;
  But there's three ladies at them now,
    Their like I never did see.

  28.
  'There's ane o' them dress'd in red scarlet,
    And twa in dainty green,
  An' they hae girdles about their middles
    Woud buy an earldome.'

  29.
  Then out it spake the bierly bride,
    Was a' goud to the chin:
  'Gin she be braw without,' she says,
    'We's be as braw within.'

  30.
  Then up it starts him, Young Bekie,
    An' the tears was in his ee:
  'I'll lay my life it's Burd Isbel,
    Come o'er the sea to me.'

  31.
  O quickly ran he down the stair,
    An' whan he saw 'twas she,
  He kindly took her in his arms,
    And kiss'd her tenderly.

  32.
  'O hae ye forgotten, Young Bekie
    The vow ye made to me,
  Whan I took ye out o' the prison strong
    Whan ye was condemn'd to die?

  33.
  'I gae you a steed was good in need,
    An' a saddle o' royal bone,
  A leash o' hounds o' ae litter,
    An' Hector called one.'

  34.
  It was well kent what the lady said,
    That it wasnae a lee,
  For at ilka word the lady spake,
    The hound fell at her knee.

  35.
  'Tak hame, tak hame your daughter dear,
    A blessing gae her wi',
  For I maun marry my Burd Isbel,
    That's come o'er the sea to me.'

  36.
  'Is this the custom o' your house,
    Or the fashion o' your lan',
  To marry a maid in a May mornin',
    An' send her back at even?'

  [Annotations:
  4.1: 'borrow,' ransom.
  6.1,2: 'but ... ben,' out ... in.
  7.3: 'stown,' stolen.
  8.3: 'rottons,' rats.
  15.2: The MS. reads 'How y you.'
  16.3: 'marys,' maids.
  29.1: 'bierly,' stately.]




OLD ROBIN OF PORTINGALE


+Text.+-- The Percy Folio is the sole authority for this excellent
ballad, and the text of the MS. is therefore given here _literatim_, in
preference to the copy served up 'with considerable corrections' by
Percy in the _Reliques_. I have, however, substituted a few obvious
emendations suggested by Professor Child, giving the Folio reading in a
footnote.

+The Story+ is practically identical with that of _Little Musgrave and
Lady Barnard_; but each is so good, though in a different vein, that
neither could be excluded.

The last stanza narrates the practice of burning a cross on the flesh of
the right shoulder when setting forth to the Holy Land--a practice which
obtained only among the very devout or superstitious of the Crusaders.
Usually a cross of red cloth attached to the right shoulder of the coat
was deemed sufficient.


OLD ROBIN OF PORTINGALE

  1.
  God! let neuer soe old a man
    Marry soe yonge a wiffe
  As did old Robin of Portingale!
    He may rue all the dayes of his liffe.

  2.
  Ffor the Maior's daughter of Lin, God wott,
    He chose her to his wife,
  & thought to haue liued in quiettnesse
    With her all the dayes of his liffe.

  3.
  They had not in their wed bed laid,
    Scarcly were both on sleepe,
  But vpp she rose, & forth shee goes
    To Sir Gyles, & fast can weepe.

  4.
  Saies, 'Sleepe you, wake you, faire Sir Gyles
    Or be not you within?'
  ...   ...   ...
  ...   ...   ...

  5.
  'But I am waking, sweete,' he said,
    'Lady, what is your will?'
  'I haue vnbethought me of a wile,
    How my wed lord we shall spill.

  6.
  'Four and twenty knights,' she sayes,
    'That dwells about this towne,
  Eene four and twenty of my next cozens,
    Will helpe to dinge him downe.'

  7.
  With that beheard his litle foote page,
    As he was watering his master's steed,
  Soe ...   ...   ...
    His verry heart did bleed;

  8.
  He mourned, sikt, & wept full sore;
    I sweare by the holy roode,
  The teares he for his master wept
    Were blend water & bloude.

  9.
  With that beheard his deare master
    As in his garden sate;
  Sayes, 'Euer alacke, my litle page,
    What causes thee to weepe?

  10.
  'Hath any one done to thee wronge,
    Any of thy fellowes here?
  Or is any of thy good friends dead,
    Which makes thee shed such teares?

  11.
  'Or if it be my head kookes man
    Greiued againe he shalbe,
  Nor noe man within my howse
    Shall doe wrong vnto thee.'

  12.
  'But it is not your head kookes man,
    Nor none of his degree,
  But or tomorrow ere it be noone,
    You are deemed to die;

  13.
  '& of that thanke your head steward,
    & after your gay ladie.'
  'If it be true, my litle foote page,
    Ile make thee heyre of all my land.'

  14.
  'If it be not true, my deare master,
    God let me neuer thye.'
  'If it be not true, thou litle foot page,
    A dead corse shalt thou be.'

  15.
  He called downe his head kooke's man:
    'Cooke, in kitchen super to dresse':
  'All & anon, my deare master,
    Anon att your request.'

  16.
  '& call you downe my faire Lady,
    This night to supp with mee.'
  ...   ...   ...
  ...   ...   ...

  17.
  & downe then came that fayre Lady,
    Was cladd all in purple & palle,
  The rings that were vpon her fingers
    Cast light thorrow the hall.

  18.
  'What is your will, my owne wed Lord,
    What is your will with me?'
  'I am sicke, fayre Lady,
    Sore sicke, & like to dye.'

  19.
  'But & you be sicke, my owne wed Lord,
    Soe sore it greiueth mee,
  But my 5 maydens & my selfe
    Will goe & make your bedd,

  20.
  '& at the wakening of your first sleepe,
    You shall haue a hott drinke made,
  & at the wakening of your next sleepe
    Your sorrowes will haue a slake.'

  21.
  He put a silke cote on his backe,
    Was 13 inches folde,
  & put a steele cap vpon his head,
    Was gilded with good red gold;

  22.
  & he layd a bright browne sword by his side
    & another att his ffeete,
  & full well knew old Robin then
    Whether he shold wake or sleepe.

  23.
  & about the middle time of the night
    Came 24 good knights in,
  Sir Gyles he was the formost man,
    Soe well he knew that ginne.

  24.
  Old Robin with a bright browne sword
    Sir Gyles' head he did winne,
  Soe did he all those 24,
    Neuer a one went quicke out [agen];

  25.
  None but one litle foot page
    Crept forth at a window of stone,
  & he had 2 armes when he came in
    And [when he went out he had none].

  26.
  Vpp then came that ladie light
    With torches burning bright;
  Shee thought to haue brought Sir Gyles a drinke,
    But shee found her owne wedd knight;

  27.
  & the first thing that this ladye stumbled vpon,
    Was of Sir Gyles his ffoote;
  Sayes, 'Euer alacke, & woe is me,
    Heere lyes my sweete hart roote!'

  28.
  & the 2d. thing that this ladie stumbled on,
    Was of Sir Gyles his head;
  Sayes, 'Euer alacke, & woe is me,
    Heere lyes my true loue deade!'

  29.
  Hee cutt the papps beside her brest,
    & bad her wish her will,
  & he cutt the eares beside her heade,
    & bade her wish on still.

  30.
  'Mickle is the man's blood I haue spent
    To doe thee & me some good';
  Sayes, 'Euer alacke, my fayre Lady,
    I thinke that I was woode!'

  31.
  He call'd then vp his litle foote page,
    & made him heyre of all his land,
  ...   ...   ...
  ...   ...   ...

  32.
  & he shope the crosse in his right sholder
    Of the white flesh & the redd,
  & he went him into the holy land,
    Wheras Christ was quicke and dead.


  [Annotations:
  2.1: 'Lin,' a stock ballad-locality: cp. _Young Bekie_, 5.4.
  5.3: 'vnbethought.' The same expression occurs in two other places
    in the Percy Folio, each time apparently in the same sense of
    'bethought [him] of.'
  6.1,3: 'Four and twenty': the Folio gives '24' in each case.
  8.1: 'sikt,' sighed. The Folio reads _sist_.
  11.1, 12.1: The Folio reads _bookes man_; but see 15.1.
  14.2: 'thye,' thrive: the Folio reads _dye_.
  19.1: '&' = an, if.
  20.3: 'next': the Folio reads _first_ again; probably the copyist's
    error.
  23.4: 'ginne,' door-latch.
  24.4: 'quicke,' alive. The last word was added by Percy in the Folio.
  25.4: Added by Hales and Furnivall.
  26.1,2: _light_ and _bright_ are interchanged in the Folio.
  32.3: 'went': the Folio gives _sent_.]




LITTLE MUSGRAVE AND LADY BARNARD


+The Text+ here given is the version printed, with very few variations,
in _Wit Restor'd_, 1658, _Wit and Drollery_, 1682, Dryden's
_Miscellany_, 1716, etc. The Percy Folio contains a fragmentary version,
consisting of some dozen stanzas. Child says that all the Scottish
versions are late, and probably derived, though taken down from oral
tradition, from printed copies. As recompense, we have the Scotch _Bonny
Birdy_.

+The Story+ would seem to be purely English. That it was popular long
before the earliest known text is proved by quotations from it in old
plays: as from _Fair Margaret and Sweet William_. Merrythought in _The
Knight of the Burning Pestle_ (1611) sings from this ballad a version of
stanza 14, and Beaumont and Fletcher also put quotations into the mouths
of characters in _Bonduca_ (circ. 1619) and _Monsieur Thomas_ (circ.
1639). Other plays before 1650 also mention it.

The reader should remember, once for all, that burdens are to be
repeated in every verse, though printed only in the first.


LITTLE MUSGRAVE AND LADY BARNARD

  1.
  As it fell one holy-day,
        _Hay downe_
    As many be in the yeare,
  When young men and maids together did goe,
    Their mattins and masse to heare;

  2.
  Little Musgrave came to the church-dore;--
    The preist was at private masse;--
  But he had more minde of the faire women
    Then he had of our lady['s] grace.

  3.
  The one of them was clad in green,
    Another was clad in pall,
  And then came in my lord Barnard's wife,
    The fairest amonst them all.

  4.
  She cast an eye on Little Musgrave,
    As bright as the summer sun;
  And then bethought this Little Musgrave,
    'This lady's heart have I woonn.'

  5.
  Quoth she, 'I have loved thee, Little Musgrave,
    Full long and many a day';
  'So have I loved you, fair lady,
    Yet never word durst I say.'

  6.
  'I have a bower at Bucklesfordbery,
    Full daintyly is it deight;
  If thou wilt wend thither, thou Little Musgrave,
    Thou's lig in mine armes all night.'

  7.
  Quoth he, 'I thank yee, fair lady,
    This kindnes thou showest to me;
  But whether it be to my weal or woe,
    This night I will lig with thee.'

  8.
  With that he heard, a little tyne page,
    By his ladye's coach as he ran:
  'All though I am my ladye's foot-page,
    Yet I am Lord Barnard's man.

  9.
  'My lord Barnard shall knowe of this,
    Whether I sink or swim';
  And ever where the bridges were broake
    He laid him downe to swimme.

  10.
  'A sleepe or wake, thou Lord Barnard,
    As thou art a man of life,
  For Little Musgrave is at Bucklesfordbery,
    A bed with thy own wedded wife.'

  11.
  'If this be true, thou little tinny page,
    This thing thou tellest to me,
  Then all the land in Bucklesfordbery
    I freely will give to thee.

  12.
  'But if it be a ly, thou little tinny page,
    This thing thou tellest to me,
  On the hyest tree in Bucklesfordbery
    Then hanged shalt thou be.'

  13.
  He called up his merry men all:
    'Come saddle me my steed;
  This night must I to Bucklesfordbery,
    For I never had greater need.'

  14.
  And some of them whistled, and some of them sung,
    And some these words did say,
  And ever when my lord Barnard's horn blew,
    'Away, Musgrave, away!'

  15.
  'Methinks I hear the thresel-cock,
    Methinks I hear the jaye;
  Methinks I hear my Lord Barnard,
    And I would I were away!'

  16.
  'Lye still, lye still, thou little Musgrave,
    And huggell me from the cold;
  'Tis nothing but a shephard's boy
    A driving his sheep to the fold.

  17.
  'Is not thy hawke upon a perch,
    Thy steed eats oats and hay,
  And thou a fair lady in thine armes,
    And wouldst thou bee away?'

  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.]


  [Illustration]




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