Part I

, No I, p. 27, makes Hilžička (Lizzie) go out before dawn to cut grass. Hołdrašk suddenly appears, and says she must pay him some forfeit for trespassing in his wood. She has nothing but her sickle, her silver finger-ring, and, when these are rejected, her wreath, and that, she says, he shall not have if she dies for it. Hołdrašk, who avows that he has had a fancy for her seven years (cf. German #Y#, and the Transylvanian mixed form #B#), gives her her choice, to be cut to pieces by his sword, or trampled to death by his horse. Which way pleases him, she says, only she begs for three cries. All three are for her brothers. They ride round the wood twice, seeing nobody; the third time Hołdrak comes up to them. Then follows the dialogue about the bloody sword and the dove. When asked where he has left Hiłžička, Hołdrašk is silent. The elder brother seizes him, the younger dispatches him with his sword.

Very similar is a #Bohemian# ballad, translated in Waldau's Böhmische Granaten, II, 25.[65] While Katie is cutting grass, early in the morning, Indriasch presents himself, and demands some for his horse. She says, You must dismount, if your horse is to have grass. "If I do, I will take away your wreath." "Then God will not grant you his blessing." He springs from his horse, and while he gives it grass with one hand snatches at the wreath with the other. "Will you die, or surrender your wreath?" Take my life, she says, but allow me three cries. Two cries reached no human ear, but the third cry her mother heard, and called to her sons to saddle, for Katie was calling in the wood, and was in trouble. They rode over stock and stone, and came to a brook where Indriasch was washing his hands. The same dialogue ensues as in the Wendish ballad. The brothers hewed the murderer into fragments.

A #Servian# ballad has fainter but unmistakable traces of the same tradition: Vuk, Srpske Narodne Pjesme, I, 282, No 385, ed. 1841; translated by Goetze, Serbische V. L., p. 99, by Talvj, V. L. der Serben, 2d ed., II, 172, by Kapper, Gesänge der Serben, II, 318. Mara is warned by her mother not to dance with Thomas. She disobeys. Thomas, while dancing, gives a sign to his servants to bring horses. The two ride off, and when they come to the end of a field Thomas says, Seest thou yon withered maple? There thou shalt hang, ravens eat out thine eyes, eagles beat thee with their wings. Mara shrieks, Ah me! so be it with every girl that does not take her mother's advice.[66]

#French.# This ballad is well known in France, and is generally found in a form resembling the English; that is to say, the scene of the attempted murder is the sea or a river (as in no other but the Polish), and the lady delivers herself by an artifice. One French version nearly approaches Polish #O-CC#.

#A.# 'Renauld et ses quatorze Femmes,' 44 vv, Paymaigre, Chants populaires recueillis dans le pays messin, No 31, I, 140. Renauld carried off the king's daughter. When they were gone half-way, she called to him that she was dying of hunger (cf. German #A-F#). Eat your hand, he answered, for you will never eat bread again. When they had come to the middle of the wood, she called out that she was dying of thirst. Drink your blood, he said, for you will never drink wine again. When they came to the edge of the wood, he said, Do you see that river? Fourteen dames have been drowned there, and you shall be the fifteenth. When they came to the river-bank, he bade her put off her cloak, her shift. It is not for knights, she said, to see ladies in such plight; they should bandage their eyes with a handkerchief. This Renauld did, and the fair one threw him into the river. He laid hold of a branch; she cut it off with his sword (cf. the Polish ballad, where the catastrophe, and consequently this act, is reversed). "What will they say if you go back without your lover?" "I will tell them that I did for you what you meant to do for me."[67] "Reach me your hand; I will marry you Sunday."

"Marry, marry a fish, Renauld, The fourteen women down below."

#B.# 'De Dion et de la Fille du Roi,' from Auvergne, Ampère, Instructions, etc., 40 vv, p. 40, stanzas 15-24, the first fourteen constituting another ballad.[68] The pair went five or six leagues without exchanging a word; only the fair one said, I am so hungry I could eat my fist. Eat it, replied Dion, for you never again will eat bread. Then they went five or six leagues in silence, save that she said, I am so thirsty I could drink my blood. "Drink it, for you never will drink wine. Over there is a pond in which fifteen ladies have had a bath, have drowned themselves, and you will make sixteen." Arrived at the pond, he orders her to take off her clothes. She tells him to put his sword under his feet, his cloak before his face, and turn to the pond; and, when he has done so, pushes him in. Here are my keys! he cries. "I don't want them; I will find locksmiths." "What will your friends say?" "I will tell them I did by you as you would have done by me."

#C.# 'Veux-tu venir, bell' Jeanneton,' 32 vv, from Poitou and Aunís, Bujeaud, II, 232. When they reach the water, the fair one asks for a drink. The man says, incoherently enough, Before drinking of this white wine I mean to drink your blood. The stanza that should tell how many have been drowned before is lost. Jeanneton, having been ordered to strip, pushes the "beau galant" into the sea, while, at her request, he is pulling off her stockings. He catches at a branch; she cuts it off, and will not hear to his entreaties.

#D.# 'En revenant de la jolie Rochelle,' twelve two-line stanzas, Gagnon, Chansons populaires du Canada, p. 155. A cavalier meets three fair maids, mounts the fairest behind him, and rides a hundred leagues without speaking to her, at the end of which she asks to drink. He takes her to a spring, but when there she does not care to drink. The rest of the ballad is pointless, and shows that the original story has been completely forgotten.

#E.# 'Belle, allons nous épromener,' from the Lyonnais, 28 vv, Champfleury, Chansons des Provinces, p. 172, is like #C#, but still more defective. The pair go to walk by "la mer courante." There is no order for the lady to strip: on the contrary, she cries, Déshabillez-moi, déchaussez-moi! and, while the man is drawing off her shoe, "la belle avance un coup de pied, le beau galant tombe dans l'eau."

#F.# 'Allons, mie, nous promener,' 32 vv, Poésies populaires de la France, MS., III, fol. 84, No 16, is like #C#. The lady asks the man to pull off her shoes before he kills her. The man clutches a branch; the woman cuts it away.

#G.# 'Le Traître Noyé,' Chants pop. du Velay et du Forez, Romania, X, 199, is like #E#, #F#.

#H.# 'La Fillette et le Chevalier,' Victor Smith, Chants pop. du Velay et du Forez, Romania, X, 198, resembles the common Polish ballad. Pierre rouses his love early in the morning, to take a ride with him. He mounts her on his horse, and when they come to a lonesome wood bids her alight, for it is the last of her days. He plunges his sword into her heart, and throws her into a river. Her father and mother come searching for her, and are informed of her fate by a shepherdess, who had witnessed the murder. The youngest of her three brothers plunges into the water, exclaiming, Who threw you in? An angel descends, and tells him it was her lover. A less romantic version, described in a note, treats of a valet who is tired of an amour with a servant-girl. He is judicially condemned to be hanged _or_ burned.

'La Fille de Saint-Martin de l'Ile,' Bujeaud, II, 226, has the conclusion of the third class of German ballads. A mother incites her son to make away with his wife. He carries her off on his horse to a wheat-field [wood], and kills her with sword and dagger. Returning, he meets his wife's brother, who asks why his shoes are covered with blood. He says he has been killing rabbits. The brother replies, I see by your paleness that you have been killing my sister. So Gérard de Nerval, Les Filles du Feu, Œuvres Com., V, 134, and La Bohème galante (1866), p. 79: 'Rosine,' Chants pop. du Velay, etc., Romania, X, 197.

The ballad is known over all #North Italy#, and always nearly in one shape.

#A.# 'Monchisa,' sixty-four short verses, Bernoni, Canti popolari veneziani, Puntata v, No 2. A count's son asks Monchesa, a knight's daughter, in marriage in the evening, espouses her in the morning, and immediately carries her off. When they are "half-way," she heaves a sigh, which she says is for father and mother, whom she shall no more see. The count points out his castle; he has taken thirty-six maids there, robbed them of their honor, and cut off their heads. "So will I do with you when we are there." The lady says no word till she is asked why she is silent; then requests the count to lend her his sword; she wishes to cut a branch to shade her horse. The moment she gets the sword in her hand, she plunges it into his heart; then throws the body into a ditch. On her way back, she meets her brother, whom she tells that she is looking after the assassins who have killed her husband. He fears it was she; this she denies, but afterwards says she must go to Rome to confess a great sin. There she obtains prompt absolution.

#B.# 'La Figlia del Conte,' Adolf Wolf, Volkslieder aus Venetien, No 73, #a#, 34 vv, #b#, 48 vv. Here it is the daughter of a count that marries Malpreso, the son of a knight. He takes her to France immediately. She goes sixty miles (#b#) without speaking. She confesses to her brother what she has done.

#C.# Righi, Canti popolari veronesi, 58 vv, No 94*, p. 30. The count's son marries Mampresa, a knight's daughter. For thirty-six miles she does not speak; after five more she sighs. She denies to her brother having killed her husband, but still says she must go to the pope to confess an old sin; then owns what she has done.

#D.# 'La Monferrina,' 48 vv, Nigra, Canzoni popolari del Piemonte, in Rivista Contemporanea, XXIV, 76. The lady is a Monferrina, daughter of a knight. After the marriage they travel fifty miles without speaking to one another. Fifty-two Monferrine have lost their heads; the bridegroom does not say why. She goes to the Pope to confess.

#E.# 'La Vendicatrice,' an incomplete copy from Alexandria, 18 vv only, Marcoaldi, Canti popolari, No 12, p. 166, like #D#, as far as it goes. Thirty-three have been beheaded before.

#F.# 'La Inglese,' 40 vv, Ferraro, Canti popolari di Ferrara, Cento e Pontelagoscuro, No 2, p. 14. The count's son marries an English girl, daughter of a knight. She never speaks for more than three hundred miles; after two hundred more she sighs. She denies having killed her husband; has not a heart of that kind.

#G.# 'La Liberatrice,' 24 vv, Ferraro, Canti popolari monferrini, No 3, p. 4. Gianfleisa is the lady's name. When invited to go off, she says, If you wish me to go, lend me a horse. Not a word is spoken for five hundred miles. The man (Gilardu) points out his castle, and says that no one he has taken there has ever come back. Gianfleisa goes home without meeting anybody.

'Laura,' Ferraro, C. p. di Pontelagoscuro, Rivista di Filologia romanza, II, 197, and C. p. di Ferrara, etc., p. 86, is a mixture of this ballad with another. Cf. 'La Maledetta,' Ferraro, C. p. monferrini, No 27, p. 35.

Several other French and Italian ballads have common points with Renauld, Monchisa, etc., and for this have sometimes been improperly grouped with them: e.g., 'La Fille des Sables,' Bujeaud, II, 177 ff. A girl sitting by the water-side hears a sailor sing, and asks him to teach her the song. He says, Come aboard, and I will. He pushes off, and by and by she begins to weep.[69] She says, My father is calling me to supper. "You will sup with me." "My mother is calling me to bed." "You will sleep with me." They go a hundred leagues, and not a word said, and at last reach his father's castle. When she is undressing, her lace gets into a knot. He suggests that his sword would cut it. She plunges the sword into her heart. So 'Du Beau Marinier,' Beaurepaire, p. 57 f, and Poésies populaires de la France, MS., III, fol. 59, No 4; 'L'Épée Libératrice,' V. Smith, Chansons du Velay, etc., Romania, VII, 69, nearly; also 'Il Corsaro,' Nigra, Rivista Coutemporanea, XXIV, p. 86 ff. In 'La Monferrina Incontaminata,' Ferraro, C. p. m., No 2, p. 3, a French knight invites a girl to go off with him, and mounts her behind him. They ride five hundred miles without speaking, then reach an inn, after which the story is the same. So Bernoni, Puntata IX, No 2. 'La Fille du Patissier,' Paymaigre, No 30, p. 93, has the same conclusion. All these, except 'La Fille des Sables,' make the girl ask for the sword herself, and in all it is herself that she kills.

The #Spanish# preserves this ballad in a single form, the earliest printed in any language, preceding, by a few years, even the German broadsides #G#, #H#.

'Romance de Rico Franco,' 36 vv, "Cancionero de Romances, s. a., fol. 191: Canc. de Rom., ed. de 1550, fol. 202: ed. de 1555, fol. 296;" Wolf and Hofmann, Primavera, No 119, II, 22: Duran, No 296, I, 160: Grimm, p. 252: Depping and Galiano, 1844, II, 167: Ochoa, p. 7. The king's huntsmen got no game, and lost the falcons. They betook themselves to the castle of Maynes, where was a beautiful damsel, sought by seven counts and three kings. Rico Franco of Aragon carried her off by force. Nothing is said of a rest in a wood, or elsewhere; but that something has dropped out here is shown by the corresponding Portuguese ballad. The lady wept. Rico Franco comforted her thus: If you are weeping for father and mother, you shall never see them more; and if for your brothers, I have killed them all three. I am not weeping for them, she said, but because I know not what my fate is to be. Lend me your knife to cut the fringes from my mantle, for they are no longer fit to wear. This Rico Franco did, and the damsel thrust the knife into his breast. Thus she avenged father, mother, and brothers.

A #Portuguese# ballad has recently been obtained from tradition in the island of St. George, Azores, which resembles the Spanish closely, but is even curter: #A#, 'Romance de Dom Franco,' 30 vv; #B#, 'Dona Inez,' a fragment of 18 vv; Braga, Cantos populares do Archipelago açoriano, No 48, p. 316, No 49, p. 317: Hartung's Romanceiro, II, 61, 63. Dona Inez was so precious in the eyes of her parents that they gave her neither to duke nor marquis. A knight who was passing [the Duke of Turkey, #B#] took a fancy to her, and stole her away. When they came to the middle of the mountain ridge on which Dona Inez lived, the knight stopped to rest, and she began to weep. From this point Portuguese #A#, and #B# so far as it is preserved, agree very nearly with the Spanish.[70]

Certain Breton ballads have points of contact with the Halewyn-Ulinger class, but, like the French and Italian ballads mentioned on the preceding page, have more important divergences, and especially the characteristic distinction that the woman kills herself to preserve her honor. 1. 'Jeanne Le Roux,' Luzel, I, 324 ff, in two versions; Poésies pop. de la France, MS., III, fol. 182. The sieur La Tremblaie attempts the abduction of Jeanne from the church immediately after her marriage ceremony. As he is about to compel her to get up on the crupper of his horse, she asks for a knife to cut her bridal girdle, which had been drawn too tight. He gives her the choice of three, and she stabs herself in the heart. La Tremblaie _remarks_, I have carried off eighteen young brides, and Jeanne is the nineteenth, words evidently taken from the mouth of a Halewyn, and not belonging here. 2. Le Marquis de Coatredrez, Luzel, I, 336 ff, meets a young girl on the road, going to the pardon of Guéodet, and forces her on to his horse. On the way and at his house she vainly implores help. He takes her to the garden to gather flowers. She asks for his knife to shorten the stems, and kills herself. Early in the morning the door of the château is broken in by Kerninon, foster-brother of the victim, who forces Coatredrez to fight, and runs him through. 3. 'Rozmelchon,' Luzel, I, 308 ff, in three versions, and, 4, 'La Filleule de du Guesclin,' Villemarqué, Barzaz-Breiz, 6th ed., 212 ff, are very like 2. The wicked Rozmelchon is burned in his château in Luzel's first copy; the other two do not bring him to punishment. Villemarqué's villain is an Englishman, and has his head cloven by du Guesclin. 5. 'Marivonnic,' Luzel, I, 350 ff, a pretty young girl, is carried off by an English vessel, the captain of which shows himself not a whit behind the feudal seigneurs in ferocity. The young girl throws herself into the water.

#Magyar.# Five versions from recent traditions, all of them interesting, are given in Arany and Gyulai's collection of Hungarian popular poetry, 'Molnár Anna,' I, 137 ff, Nos 1-5.[71]--#A#, p. 141, No 3. A man, nameless here, but called in the other versions Martin Ajgó, or Martin Sajgó, invites Anna Miller to go off with him. She refuses; she has a young child and a kind husband. "Come," he says; "I have six palaces, and will put you in the seventh," and persists so long that he prevails at last. They went a long way, till they came to the middle of a green wood. He asked her to sit down in the shade of a branchy tree (so all); he would lie in her lap, and she was to look into his head (a point found in all the copies). But look not up into the tree, he said. He went to sleep (so #B#, #D#); she looked up into the tree, and saw six fair maids hanging there (so all but #E#). She thought to herself, He will make me the seventh! (also #B#, #D#). A tear fell on the face of the "brave sir," and waked him. You have looked up into the tree, he said. "No, but three orphans passed, and I thought of my child." He bade her go up into the tree. She was not used to go first, she said. He led the way. She seized the opportunity, tore his sword from its sheath (so =C#), and hewed off his head. She then wrapped herself in his cloak, sprang upon his horse, and returned home, where (in all the copies, as in this) she effected a reconcilement with her husband. #B#, p. 138, No 2, agrees closely with the foregoing. Martin Ajgó calls to Anna Miller to come with him a long way into the wilderness (so #D#, #E#). He boasts of no palaces in this version. He calls Anna a long time, tempts her a long time, drags her on to his horse, and carries her off. The scene under the tree is repeated. Anna pretends (so #D#, #E#) that the tear which drops on Martin's face is dew from the tree, and he retorts, How can it be dew from the tree, when the time is high noon? His sword falls out of its sheath as he is mounting the tree, and he asks her to hand it to him. She throws it up (so #E#), and it cuts his throat in two. Rightly served, Martin Ajgó, she says: why did you lure me from home? #C#, p. 144, No 4. Martin Sajgó tells Anna Miller that he has six stone castles, and is building a seventh. It is not said that he goes to sleep. As in #A#, Anna pulls his sword from the scabbard. #D#, p. 146, No 5. Here reappears the very important feature of the wonderland: "Come, let us go, Anna Miller, a long journey into the wilderness, to a place that flows with milk and honey." Anna insists, as before, that Martin shall go up the tree first. He puts down his sword; she seizes it, and strikes off his head with one blow. #E#, p. 137, No 1, is somewhat defective, but agrees essentially with the others. Martin Ajgó calls Anna; she will not come; he carries her off. He lets his sword fall as he is climbing, and asks Anna to hand it up to him. She throws it up, as in #B#, and it cuts his back in two.

Neus, in his Ehstnische Volkslieder, maintains the affinity of 'Kallewisohnes Tod,' No 2, p. 5, with the Ulinger ballads, and even of his Holepi with the Dutch Halewyn. The resemblance is of the most distant, and what there is must be regarded as casual. The same of the Finnish 'Kojoins Sohn,' Schröter, Finnische Runen, p. 114, 115; 'Kojosen Poika,' Lönnrot, Kanteletar, p. 279.

In places where a ballad has once been known, the story will often be remembered after the verses have been wholly or partly forgotten, and the ballad will be resolved into a prose tale, retaining, perhaps, some scraps of verse, and not infrequently taking up new matter, or blending with other traditions. Naturally enough, a ballad and an equivalent tale sometimes exist side by side. It has already been mentioned that Jamieson, who had not found this ballad in Scotland, had often come upon the story in the form of a tale interspersed with verse. Birlinger at one time (1860) had not been able to obtain the ballad in the Swabian Oberland (where it has since been found in several forms), but only a story agreeing essentially with the second class of German ballads. According to this tradition, a robber, who was at the same time a portentous magician, enticed the twelve daughters of a miller, one after another, into a wood, and hanged eleven of them on a tree, but was arrested by a hunter, the brother of the twelve, before he could dispatch the last, and was handed over to justice. The object of the murders was to obtain blood for magical purposes. This story had, so to speak, naturalized itself in the locality, and the place where the robber's house had been and that where the tree had stood were pointed out. The hunter-brother was by some conceived of as the Wild Huntsman, and came to the rescue through the air with a fearful baying of dogs. (Birlinger in Volksthümliches aus Schwaben, I, 368, No 592, and Germania, 1st Ser., V, 372.)

The story of the German ballad #P# has attached itself to localities in the neighborhood of Weissenbach, Aargau, and is told with modifications that connect it with the history of the Guggi-, or Schongauer-, bad. A rich man by lewd living had become a leper. The devil put it into his head that he could be cured by bathing in the blood of twelve [seven] pure maidens. He seized eleven at a swoop, while they were on their way to church, and hanged them, and the next day enticed away a miller's daughter, who was delivered from death as in the ballad. A medicinal spring rose near the fatal tree. (Rochholz, I, 22.) No pure version of this ballad has been obtained in the Harz region, though a mixed form has already been spoken of; but 'Der Reiter in Seiden,' Pröhle, Märchen für die Jugend, No 32, p. 136, which comes from the western Harz, or from some place further north, on the line between Kyffhaüser and Hamburg, is, roughly speaking, only 'Gert Olbert' turned into prose, with a verse or two remaining. 'Der betrogene Betrüger,' from Mühlbach, Müller's Siebenbürgische Sagen, No 418, p. 309, has for its hero a handsome young man, addicted to women, who obtains from the devil the power of making them follow his piping, on the terms that every twelfth soul is to be the devil's share. He had taken eleven to a wood, and hanged them on a tree after he had satisfied his desire. The brother of a twelfth substituted himself for his sister, dressed in her clothes, snatched the rope from the miscreant, and ran him up on the nearest bough; upon which a voice was heard in the wind, that cried The twelfth soul is mine. Grundtvig, in his Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 249, gives his recollections of a story that he had heard in his youth which has a catastrophe resembling that of English #C-F#. A charcoal burner had a way of taking up women beside him on his wagon, and driving them into a wood, where he forced them to take off their clothes, then killed them, and sunk them with heavy stones in a deep moss. At last a girl whom he had carried off in this way got the advantage of him by inducing him to turn away while she was undressing, and then pushing him into the moss. Something similar is found in the conclusion of a robber story in Grundtvig's Danske Folkeminder, 1861, No 30, p. 108, and in a modern Danish ballad cited in Danmarks gamle Folkeviser, IV, 24, note.**

Another Transylvanian tale, Schuster, p. 433, has a fountain, a thirsty bride, and doves (two or three) that sing to her, traits which have perhaps been derived from some Ulinger ballad; but the fountain is of an entirely different character, and the doves serve a different purpose. The tale is a variety of 'Fitchers Vogel,' Grimms, No 46, and belongs to the class of stories to which 'Bluebeard,' from its extensive popularity, has given name. The magician of 'Fitcher's Vogel' and of 'Bluebeard' becomes, or remains, a preternatural being (a hill-man) further north, as in Grundtvig's Gamle danske Minder, 1857, No 312, p. 182. There is a manifest affinity between these three species of tales and our ballad (also between the German and Danish tales and the Scandinavian ballad of 'Rosmer'), but the precise nature of this affinity it is impossible to expound. 'Bluebeard,' 'La Barbe Bleue,' Perrault, Histoires ou Contes du temps passé, 1697, p. 57 (Lefèvre), has a special resemblance to the German ballads of the second class in the four calls to sister Anne, which represent the cries to father, mother, and brother, and agrees with these ballads as to the means by which the death of the malefactor is brought about.

Looking back now over the whole field covered by this ballad, we observe that the framework of the story is essentially the same in English, Dutch, Danish, Swedish, Norwegian; in the first class of the German ballads; in Polish #A#; in French, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, and Magyar. The woman delivers herself from death by some artifice,[72] and retaliates upon the man the destruction he had intended for her. The second form of the German ballad attributes the deliverance of the woman to her brother, and also the punishment of the murderer. The third form of the German ballad makes the woman lose her life, and her murderer, for the most part, to suffer the penalty of the law, though in some cases the brother takes immediate vengeance. Polish #B-K# may be ranked with the second German class, and #O-CC# still better with the third; but the brother appears in only a few of these, and, when he appears, counts for nothing. The Wendish and the Bohemian ballad have the incident of fraternal vengeance, though otherwise less like the German. The Servian ballad, a slight thing at best, is still less like, but ranks with the third German class. The oldest Icelandic copy is altogether anomalous, and also incomplete, but seems to imply the death of the woman: later copies suffer the woman to escape, without vengeance upon the murderer.

It is quite beyond question that the third class of German ballad is a derivation from the second.[73] Of the versions #T-Z#, #Z# alone has preserved clear traits of the marvellous. A king's daughter is enticed from home by Ulrich's singing, and is warned of her impending fate by the dove, as in Class II. The other ballads have the usual marks of degeneracy, a dropping or obscuring of marvellous and romantic incidents, and a declension in the rank and style of the characters. #T#, to be sure, has a hazel, and #Y# a tree-stump and a spring, and in #T# Ulrich offers to teach Ännchen bird-song, but these traits have lost all significance. Knight and lady sink to ordinary man and maid; for though in #Y# the woman is called a king's daughter, the opening stanzas of #Y# are borrowed from a different ballad. Ulrich retains so much of the knight that he rides to Ännchen's house, in the first stanza of #T#, but he apparently goes on foot with her to the wood, and this is the rule in all the other ballads of this class. As Ulrich has lost his horse, so the brother, in #T#, #U#, #V#, #X#, has lost his sword, or the use of it, and in all these (also, superfluously, in #W#) Ulrich, like a common felon as he was, is broken on the wheel.

That the woman should save her life by her own craft and courage is certainly a more primitive conception than that she should depend upon her brother, and the priority of this arrangement of the plot is supported, if not independently proved, by the concurrence, as to this point, of so many copies among so many nations, as also by the accordance of various popular tales. The second German form must therefore, so far forth, be regarded as a modification of the first. Among the several devices, again, which the woman employs in order to get the murderer into her power, the original would seem to be her inducing him to lay his head in her lap, which gives her the opportunity (by the use of charms or runes, in English #A#, Danish #G#, Norwegian #F#, #H#, and one form of #B#) to put him into a deep sleep. The success of this trick no doubt implies considerable simplicity on the part of the victim of it; not more, however, than is elsewhere witnessed in preternatural beings, whose wits are frequently represented as no match for human shrewdness. Some of the Scandinavian ballads are not liable to the full force of this objection, whatever that may be, for they make the knight express a suspicion of treachery, and the lady solemnly asseverate that she will not kill [fool, beguile] him in his sleep. And so, when he is fast bound, she cries out, Wake up, for I will not kill thee _in thy sleep_! This last circumstance is wanting in hardly any of the Scandinavian ballads, whereas the previous compact is found only in Danish #E#, #F#, #G#, #H#, #L#, Swedish #A#, Norwegian #A#, and the Icelandic ballad. Not occurring in any of the older Danish copies, it may be that the compact is an after-thought, and was inserted to qualify the improbability. But the lady's equivocation is quite of a piece with Memering's oath in 'Ravengaard and Memering,' Grundtvig, No 13, and King Dietrich's in the Dietrichsaga, Unger, c. 222, p. 206.[74]

English #A# and all the Danish, Swedish, and Norwegian ballads employ the stratagem of lulling the man to sleep, but these are not the only ballads in which the man lays his head in the woman's lap. This trait is observed in nearly all German ballads of the second and third class, in _all_ the well-preserved ones, and also in the Magyar ballad. With regard to the German ballads, however, it is purposeless (for it does not advance the action of the drama in the least), and must be regarded as a relic of an earlier form.[75] English #B-F# and all the French ballads dispose of the traitor by a watery death. The scene is shifted from a wood to a sea-coast, pool, or river bank, perhaps to suit the locality to which the ballad had wandered. In English #B#, where, apparently under the influence of other ballads,[76] the lady is forced to wade into water up to her chin, the knight is pushed off his horse when bending over to give a last kiss for which he had been asked; in English #C-F# and French #A#, #B#, the man is induced to turn his face to save the woman's modesty; in French #C-E# he is made to pull off her stockings or shoes, and then, while off his guard, pitched into a sea or river. This expedient is sufficiently trivial; but still more so, and grazing on the farcical, is that which is made use of in the Dutch ballad and those of the German first class, the woman's persuading the man to take off his fine coat lest it should be spattered with her blood, and cutting off his head with his own sword while he is thus occupied. The Spanish and Portuguese ballads make the lady borrow the knight's knife to remove some of the trimming of her dress, and in the Italian she borrows his sword to cut a bough to shade her horse; for in Italian the halt in the wood is completely forgotten, and the last half of the action takes place on horseback. All these contrivances plainly have less claim to be regarded as primary than that of binding the murderer after he has been put to sleep.

The knight in English #A# is called an Elf, and as such is furnished with an enchanting horn, which is replaced by a harp of similar properties in #B#, where, however, the male personage has neither name nor any kind of designation. The elf-horn of English #A# is again represented by the seductive song of the Dutch ballad and of German #G-R# and #Z#. Though the lady is not lured away in the Scandinavian ballads by irresistible music,[77] Danish #A#, #E#, Norwegian #A#, #B#, and Swedish #D# present to her the prospect of being taken to an elf-land, or elysium, and there are traces of this in Danish #G# and #D# also, and in Polish #Q#. The tongue that talks after the head is off, in the Dutch ballad and in German #A#, #B#, #C#, #E#, is another mark of an unearthly being. Halewyn, Ulver, Gert Olbert, like the English knight, are clearly supernatural, though of a nondescript type. The elf in English #A# is not to be interpreted too strictly, for the specific elf is not of a sanguinary turn, as these so conspicuously are. He is comparatively innocuous, like the hill-man Young Akin, in another English ballad, who likewise entices away a woman by magical music, but only to make her his wife. But the elf-knight and the rest seem to delight in bloodshed for its own sake; for, as Grundtvig has pointed out, there is no other apparent motive for murder in English #A#, #B#, the Norwegian ballads, Danish #A#, Swedish #A#, #B#, or German #A-E#.[78] This is true again, for one reason or another, of others of the German ballads, of the French, of most of the Italian, and of the Hungarian ballads.

The nearest approach to the Elf-knight, Halewyn, etc., is perhaps Quintalin, in the saga of Samson the Fair. He was son of the miller Galin. Nobody knew who his mother was, but many were of the mind that Galin might have had him of a "goddess," an elf or troll woman, who lived under the mill force. He was a thief, and lay in the woods; was versed in many knave's tricks, and had also acquired agreeable arts. He was a great master of the harp, and would decoy women into the woods with his playing, keep them as long as he liked, and send them home pregnant to their fathers or husbands. A king's daughter, Valentina, is drawn on by his music deep into the woods, but is rescued by a friendly power. Some parts of her dress and ornaments, which she had laid off in her rapid following up of the harping, are afterwards found, with a great quantity of precious things, in the subaqueous cave of Quintalin's mother, who is a complete counterpart to Grendel's, and was probably borrowed from Beówulf.[79] This demi-elf Quintalin is a tame personage by the side of Grendel or of Halewyn. Halewyn does not devour his victims, like Grendel: Quintalin does not even murder his. He allures women with his music to make them serve his lust. We may infer that he would plunder them, for he is a notorious thief. Even two of the oldest Danish ballads, #B#, #C#, and again Danish #I# and Swedish #C#, make the treacherous knight as lecherous as bloody, and so with German #J#, #K#, #L#, #O#, #P#, #Q#, #R#, #S#, and Italian #A#, #B#, #C#, #E#, #F#. This trait is wanting in Danish #D#, where, though traces of the originally demonic nature of the knight remain, the muckle gold of the maids already appears as the motive for the murders. In the later Danish #E-H#, #K#, #L#, and Swedish #C#, #D#, the original elf or demon has sunk to a remorseless robber, generally with brothers, sisters, or underlings for accomplices.[80] This is preëminently his character in English #C-F#, in nearly all the forty Polish ballads, and in the two principal ballads of the German second class, #G#, #H#, though English #D#, German #H#, and Polish #Q# retain a trace of the supernatural: the first in the charm by means of which the knight compels the maid to quit her parents, the second in the bloody spring, and the last in the golden mountains. There is nothing that unequivocally marks the robber in the other German ballads of the second class and in those of the third. The question 'Weinst du um deines Vaters Gut?' in #I-L#, #O-S#, #T-W#, is hardly decisive, and only in #W# and #Z# is it expressly said that the maid had taken valuable things with her (as in Swedish #D#, Norwegian #A#, #B#, English #D-F#). #J-L#, #O-S#, give us to understand that the lady had lost her honor,[81] but in all the rest, except the anomalous #Z#, the motive for murder is insufficient.[82]

The woman in these ballads is for the most part nameless, or bears a stock name to which no importance can be attached. Not so with the names of the knight. Most of these are peculiar, and the Northern ones, though superficially of some variety, have yet likeness enough to tempt one to seek for a common original. Grundtvig, with considerable diffidence, suggests Oldemor as a possible ground-form. He conceives that the #R# of some of the Scandinavian names may be a relic of a foregoing Herr. The initial #H# would easily come or go. Given such a name as Hollemen (Danish #C#), we might expect it to give place to Halewyn, which is both a family and a local name in Flanders, if the ballad should pass into the Low Countries from Denmark, a derivation that Grundtvig is far from asserting. So Ulinger, a local appellation, might be substituted for the Ulver of Danish #A#. Grundtvig, it must be borne in mind, declines to be responsible for the historical correctness of this genealogy, and would be still less willing to undertake an explanation of the name Oldemor.

In place of Oldemor, Professor Sophus Bugge, in a recent article, marked by his characteristic sharp-sightedness and ingenuity, has proposed Hollevern, Holevern, or Olevern as the base-form of all the Northern names for the bloody knight, and he finds in this name a main support for the entirely novel and somewhat startling hypothesis that the ballad we are dealing with is a wild shoot from the story of Judith and Holofernes.[83] His argument, given as briefly as possible, is as follows.

That the Bible story was generally known in the Middle Ages no one would question. It was treated in a literary way by an Anglo-Saxon poet, who was acquainted with the scriptural narrative, and in a popular way by poets who had no direct acquaintance with the original.[84] The source of the story in the ballad must in any case be a tradition many times removed from the biblical story; that much should be changed, much dropped, and much added is only what would be expected.

Beginning the comparison with 'Judith' with this caution, it is first submitted that Holofernes can be recognized in most of the Scandinavian and German names of the knight. The v of the proposed base-form is preserved in Ulver, Halewyn, and probably in the English Elf-knight. It is easy to explain a v's passing over to g, as in Ulinger, Adelger, and especially under the influence of the very common names in -ger. Again, v might easily become b, as in Olbert, or m, as in Hollemen, Olmor; and the initial R of Rulleman, Romor, etc., may have been carried over from a prefixed Herr.[85]

The original name of the heroine has been lost, and yet it is to be noticed that Gert Olbert's mother, in German #A#, is called Fru Jutte.

The heroine in this same ballad is named Helena (Linnich in #F#); in others (German #C#, #D#, #E#), Odilia. These are names of saints, and this circumstance may tend to show that the woman in the ballad was originally conceived of as rather a saint than a secular character, though in the course of time the story has so changed that the devout widow who sought out her country's enemy in his own camp has been transformed into a young maid who is enticed from home by a treacherous suitor.

It is an original trait in the ballad that the murderer, as is expressly said in many copies, is from a foreign land. According to an English version (#E#), he comes from the north, as Holofernes does, "venit Assur ex montibus ab aquilone" (Jud. xvi, 5).

The germ of this outlandish knight's bloodthirstiness is found in the truculent part that Holofernes plays in the Bible, his threats and devastations. That the false suitor appears without companions is in keeping with the ballad style of representation; yet we might find suggestions of the Assyrian's army in the swains, the brothers, the stable-boy, whom the maid falls in with on her way home.

The splendid promises made in many of the ballads might have been developed from the passage where Holofernes, whose bed is described as wrought with purple, gold, and precious stones, says to Judith, Thou shalt be great in the house of Nebuchadnezzar, and thy name shall be named in all the earth (xi, 21).

In many forms of the ballad, especially the Dutch and the German, the maid adorns herself splendidly, as Judith does: she even wears some sort of crown in Dutch #A# 16, German #D# 8, as Judith does in x, 3, xvi, 10 (mitram).

In the English #D#, #E#, #F#, the oldest Danish, #A#, and the Polish versions, the maid, like Judith, leaves her home in the night.

The Piedmontese casté, Italian #E# 1 [there is a castle in nearly all the Italian ballads, and also in Dutch #B#], may remind us of Holofernes' castra.

The knight's carrying off the maid, lifting her on to his horse in many copies, may well come from a misunderstanding of elevaverunt in Judith x, 20: Et cum in faciem ejus intendisset, adoravit eum, prosternens se super terram. Et elevaverunt eam servi Holofernis, jubente domino suo.[86]

In German #A# Gert Olbert and Helena are said to ride three days and nights, and in Danish #D# the ride is for three days; and we may remember that Judith killed Holofernes the fourth day after her arrival in his camp.

The place in which the pair alight is, according to German #G# 20, a deep dale, and this agrees with the site of Holofernes' camp in the valley of Bethulia. There is a spring or stream in many of the ballads, and also a spring in the camp, in which Judith bathes (xii, 7).

Most forms of the ballad make the knight, after the halt, inform the maid that she is to die, as many maids have before her in the same place; e.g., German #G# 7:

'Der Ulinger hat eylff Jungfrawen gehangen, Die zwölfft hat er gefangen.'[87]

This corresponds with the passage in Judith's song (xvi, 6), $Dixit se$ ... infantes meos $dare$ in prædam et $virgenes in captivitatem$: but it is reasonable to suppose that the ballad follows some version of the Bible words that varied much from the original.

The incident of the maid's lousing and tousing her betrayer's hair, while he lies with his head in her lap, may have come from Judith seizing Holofernes by the hair before she kills him, but the story of Samson and Delilah may have had influence here.

According to many German versions, the murderer grants the maid three cries before she dies. She invokes Jesus, Mary, and her brother. Or she utters three sighs, the first to God the Father, the second to Jesus, the third to her brother. These cries or sighs seem to take the place of Judith's prayer, Confirma me, Domine Deus Israel (xiii, 7), and it may also be well to remember that Holofernes granted Judith, on her request, permission to go out in the night to pray.

The Dutch, Low-German, Scandinavian, and other versions agree in making the woman kill the knight with his own sword, as in Judith. The Dutch and Low-German [also Danish #F#, Swedish #A#] have preserved an original trait in making the maid hew off the murderer's head. English and French versions dispose of the knight differently: the maid pushes him into sea or river. Perhaps, in some older form of the story, after the head was cut off, the _trunk_ was pushed into the water: cf. Judith xiii, 10: Abscidit caput ejus et ... evolvit corpus ejus truncum. The words apprehendit comam capitis ejus (xiii, 9) have their parallel in Dutch #A#, 33: "Zy nam het hoofd al by het haer." The Dutch ballad makes the maid carry the head with her.

"Singing and ringing" she rode through the wood: Judith sings a song of praise to the Lord after her return home.

In English #C-F#, May Colven comes home before dawn, as Judith does. The Dutch #A# says, When to her father's gate she came, she blew the horn like a man. Compare Judith xiii, 13: Et dixit Judith a longe custodibus murorum, Aperite portas!

The Dutch text goes on to say that when the father heard the horn he was delighted at his daughter's return: and Judith v, 14, Et factum est, cum audissent viri vocem ejus, vocaverunt presbyteros civitatis.

The conclusion of Dutch #A# is that there was a banquet held, and the head was set on the table. So Judith causes Holofernes' head to be hung up on the city wall, and after the enemy have been driven off, the Jews hold a feast.

The Icelandic version, though elsewhere much mutilated, has a concluding stanza which certainly belongs to the ballad:

Ása went into a holy cell, Never did she harm to man.

This agrees with the view taken of the heroine of the ballad as a saint, and with the Bible account that Judith lived a chaste widow after her husband's demise.

Danish #D# is unique in one point. The robber has shown the maid a little knoll, in which the "much gold" of the women he has murdered lies. When she has killed him, the maid says, "_I_ shall have the much gold," and takes as much as she can carry off. Compare with this Holofernes putting Judith into his treasury (xii, 1),[88] her carrying off the conopœum (xiii, 10), and her receiving from the people all Holofernes' gold, silver, clothes, jewels, and furniture, as her share of the plunder of the Assyrian camp (xv, 14). It is, perhaps, a perversion of this circumstance that the robber in German #G#, #H#, is refused permission to keep his costly clothes.

English #D# seems also to have preserved a portion of the primitive story, when it makes the maid tell her parents in the morning all that has happened, whereupon they go with her to the sea-shore to find the robber's body. The foundation for this is surely the Bible account that Judith makes known her act to the elders of the city, and that the Jews go out in the morning and fall on the enemy's camp, in which Holofernes' body is lying. In Swedish #C# the robber's sisters mourn over his body, and in Judith xiv, 18 the Assyrians break out into loud cries when they learn of Holofernes' death.

In all this it is simply contended that the story of Judith is the remote source of the ballad, and it is conceded that many of the correspondences which have been cited may be accidental. Neither the Latin text of Judith nor any other written treatment of the story of Judith is supposed to have been known to the author of the ballad. The knowledge of its biblical origin being lost, the story would develop itself in its own way, according to the fashion of oral tradition. And so the pious widow into whose hands God gave over his enemies is converted into a fair maid who is enticed by a false knight into a wood, and who kills him in defence of her own life.

A similar transformation can be shown elsewhere in popular poetry. The little Katie of certain northern ballads (see Grundtvig, No 101) is a maid among other maids who prefers death to dishonor; but was originally Saint Catherine, daughter of the king of Egypt, who suffered martyrdom for the faith under the Emperor Maxentius. All the versions of the Halewyn ballad which we possess, even the purest, may be far removed from the primitive, both as to story and as to metrical form. New features would be taken up, and old ones would disappear. One copy has preserved genuine particulars, which another has lost, but Dutch tradition has kept the capital features best of all.[89]

Professor Bugge's argument has been given with an approach to fulness out of a desire to do entire justice to the distinguished author's case, though most of the correspondences adduced by him fail to produce any effect upon my mind.

The case is materially strengthened by the Dutch text #C# ('Roland'), which was not accessible at the time Bugge's paper was written. The name Roland is not so close to Holofern as Halewyn, but is still within the range of conceivable metamorphosis. The points of coincidence between Dutch #C# and the story of Judith are these: The woman, first making an elaborate toilet,[90] goes out to seek the man, who is spoken of as surrounded with soldiers; she is challenged on the way; finds Roland lying on his bed, which he proposes she shall share (or lose her life);[91] she cuts off his head, which, after her return home, she exposes from her window.[92]

If this was the original form of the Dutch ballad, and the Dutch ballad is the source from which all the other ballads have come, by processes of dropping, taking up, and transforming, then we may feel compelled to admit that this ballad might be a wild shoot from the story of Judith. Any one who bears in mind the strange changes which stories undergo will hesitate to pronounce this impossible. What poor Ophelia says of us human creatures is even truer of ballads: "We know what we are, but know not what we may be."

But when we consider how much would have to be dropped, how much to be taken up, and how much to be transformed, before the Hebrew "gest" could be converted into the European ballad, we naturally look for a less difficult hypothesis. It is a supposition attended with less difficulty that an independent European tradition existed of a half-human, half-demonic being, who possessed an irresistible power of decoying away young maids, and was wont to kill them after he got them into his hands, but who at last found one who was more than his match, and lost his own life through her craft and courage. A modification of this story is afforded by the large class of Bluebeard tales. The Quintalin story seems to be another variety, with a substitution of lust for bloodthirst. The Dutch ballad may have been _affected_ by some lost ballad of Holofern, and may have taken up some of its features, at least that of carrying home Halewyn's [Roland's] head, which is found in no other version.[93]

#A a# is translated by Grundtvig in Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, No 37, p. 230: #B b# in the same, No 36, p. 227: #C a#, #b#, #D a#, #b#, blended, No 35, p. 221. #A#, by Rosa Warrens, Schottische V. L. der Vorzeit, No 1, p. 1: Gerhard, p. 15. #C b#, by Rosa Warrens, No 34, p. 148: Wolf, Halle der Völker, I, 38, Hausschatz, 225. #C#, #D#, etc., as in Allingham, p. 244, by Knortz, Lied. u. Rom. Alt-Englands, No 4, p. 14.

A

#a.# Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 22. #b.# Motherwell's MS., p. 563.

1 Fair lady Isabel sits in her bower sewing, Aye as the gowans grow gay There she heard an elf-knight blawing his horn. The first morning in May

2 'If I had yon horn that I hear blawing, And yon elf-knight to sleep in my bosom.'

3 This maiden had scarcely these words spoken, Till in at her window the elf-knight has luppen.

4 'It's a very strange matter, fair maiden,' said he, 'I canna blaw my horn but ye call on me.

5 'But will ye go to yon greenwood side? If ye canna gang, I will cause you to ride.'

6 He leapt on a horse, and she on another, And they rode on to the greenwood together.

7 'Light down, light down, lady Isabel,' said he, 'We are come to the place where ye are to die.'

8 'Hae mercy, hae mercy, kind sir, on me, Till ance my dear father and mother I see.'

9 'Seven king's-daughters here hae I slain, And ye shall be the eight o them.'

10 'O sit down a while, lay your head on my knee, That we may hae some rest before that I die.'

11 She stroakd him sae fast, the nearer he did creep, Wi a sma charm she lulld him fast asleep.

12 Wi his ain sword-belt sae fast as she ban him, Wi his ain dag-durk sae sair as she dang him.

13 'If seven king's-daughters here ye hae slain, Lye ye here, a husband to them a'.'

B

#a.# Buchan's MSS, II, fol. 80. #b.# Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 201. c. Motherwell's MS., p. 561. #d.# Harris MS., No 19.

1 There came a bird out o a bush, On water for to dine, An sighing sair, says the king's daughter, 'O wae 's this heart o mine!'

2 He 's taen a harp into his hand, He 's harped them all asleep, Except it was the king's daughter, Who one wink couldna get.

3 He 's luppen on his berry-brown steed, Taen 'er on behind himsell, Then baith rede down to that water That they ca Wearie's Well.

4 'Wide in, wide in, my lady fair, No harm shall thee befall; Oft times I've watered my steed Wi the waters o Wearie's Well.'

5 The first step that she stepped in, She stepped to the knee; And sighend says this lady fair, 'This water 's nae for me.'

6 'Wide in, wide in, my lady fair, No harm shall thee befall; Oft times I've watered my steed Wi the water o Wearie's Well.'

7 The next step that she stepped in, She stepped to the middle; 'O,' sighend says this lady fair, I 've wat my gowden girdle.'

8 'Wide in, wide in, my lady fair, No harm shall thee befall; Oft times have I watered my steed Wi the water o Wearie's Well.'

9 The next step that she stepped in, She stepped to the chin; 'O,' sighend says this lady fair, 'They sud gar twa loves twin.'

10 'Seven king's-daughters I 've drownd there, In the water o Wearie's Well, And I'll make you the eight o them, And ring the common bell.'

11 'Since I am standing here,' she says, 'This dowie death to die, One kiss o your comely mouth I'm sure wad comfort me.'

12 He louted him oer his saddle bow, To kiss her cheek and chin; She 's taen him in her arms twa, An thrown him headlong in.

13 'Since seven king's daughters ye 've drowned there, In the water o Wearie's Well, I'll make you bridegroom to them a', An ring the bell mysell.'

14 And aye she warsled, and aye she swam, And she swam to dry lan; She thanked God most cheerfully The dangers she oercame.

C

#a.# Herd's MSS, I, 166. #b.# Herd's Ancient and Modern Scottish Songs, 1776, I, 93. #c.# Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 67, == #b# "collated with a copy obtained from recitation."

1 False Sir John a wooing came To a maid of beauty fair; May Colven was this lady's name, Her father's only heir.

2 He wood her butt, he wood her ben, He wood her in the ha, Until he got this lady's consent To mount and ride awa.

3 He went down to her father's bower, Where all the steeds did stand, And he 's taken one of the best steeds That was in her father's land.

4 He 's got on and she 's got on, And fast as they could flee, Until they came to a lonesome part, A rock by the side of the sea.

5 'Loup off the steed,' says false Sir John, 'Your bridal bed you see; For I have drowned seven young ladies, The eight one you shall be.

6 'Cast off, cast off, my May Colven, All and your silken gown, For it 's oer good and oer costly To rot in the salt sea foam.

7 'Cast off, cast off, my May Colven, All and your embroiderd shoen, For they 're oer good and oer costly To rot in the salt sea foam.'

8 'O turn you about, O false Sir John, And look to the leaf of the tree, For it never became a gentleman A naked woman to see.'

9 He turnd himself straight round about, To look to the leaf of the tree; So swift as May Colven was To throw him in the sea.

10 'O help, O help, my May Colven, O help, or else I'll drown; I'll take you home to your father's bower, And set you down safe and sound.'

11 'No help, no help, O false Sir John, No help, nor pity thee; Tho seven king's-daughters you have drownd, But the eight shall not be me.'

12 So she went on her father's steed, As swift as she could flee, And she came home to her father's bower Before it was break of day.

13 Up then and spoke the pretty parrot: 'May Colven, where have you been? What has become of false Sir John, That woo'd you so late the streen?

14 'He woo'd you butt, he woo'd you ben, He woo'd you in the ha, Until he got your own consent For to mount and gang awa.'

15 'O hold your tongue, my pretty parrot, Lay not the blame upon me; Your cup shall be of the flowered gold, Your cage of the root of the tree.'

16 Up then spake the king himself, In the bed-chamber where he lay: 'What ails the pretty parrot, That prattles so long or day?'

17 'There came a cat to my cage door, It almost a worried me, And I was calling on May Colven To take the cat from me.'

D

#a.# Sharpe's Ballad Book (1823), No 17, p. 45. #b.# Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 45. #c.# Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. 21, No. XXIV, one stanza.

1 O heard ye of a bloody knight, Lived in the south country? For he has betrayed eight ladies fair And drowned them in the sea.

2 Then next he went to May Collin, She was her father's heir, The greatest beauty in the land, I solemnly declare.

3 'I am a knight of wealth and might, Of townlands twenty-three; And you'll be lady of them all, If you will go with me.'

4 'Excuse me, then, Sir John,' she says; 'To wed I am too young; Without I have my parents' leave, With you I darena gang.'

5 'Your parents' leave you soon shall have, In that they will agree; For I have made a solemn vow This night you'll go with me.'

6 From below his arm he pulled a charm, And stuck it in her sleeve, And he has made her go with him, Without her parents' leave.

7 Of gold and silver she has got With her twelve hundred pound, And the swiftest steed her father had She has taen to ride upon.

8 So privily they went along, They made no stop or stay, Till they came to the fatal place That they call Bunion Bay.

9 It being in a lonely place, And no house there was nigh, The fatal rocks were long and steep, And none could hear her cry.

10 'Light down,' he said, 'fair May Collin, Light down and speak with me, For here I've drowned eight ladies fair, And the ninth one you shall be.'

11 'Is this your bowers and lofty towers, So beautiful and gay? Or is it for my gold,' she said, 'You take my life away?'

12 'Strip off,' he says, 'thy jewels fine, So costly and so brave, For they are too costly and too fine To throw in the sea wave.'

13 'Take all I have my life to save, O good Sir John, I pray; Let it neer be said you killed a maid Upon her wedding day.'

14 'Strip off,' he says, 'thy Holland smock, That's bordered with the lawn, For it's too costly and too fine To rot in the sea sand.'

15 'O turn about, Sir John,' she said, 'Your back about to me, For it never was comely for a man A naked woman to see.'

16 But as he turned him round about, She threw him in the sea, Saying, 'Lie you there, you false Sir John, Where you thought to lay me.

17 'O lie you there, you traitor false, Where you thought to lay me, For though you stripped me to the skin, Your clothes you've got with thee.'

18 Her jewels fine she did put on, So costly, rich and brave, And then with speed she mounts his steed, So well she did behave.

19 That lady fair being void of fear, Her steed being swift and free, And she has reached her father's gate Before the clock struck three.

20 Then first she called the stable groom, He was her waiting man; Soon as he heard his lady's voice He stood with cap in hand.

21 'Where have you been, fair May Collin? Who owns this dapple grey?' 'It is a found one,' she replied, 'That I got on the way.'

22 Then out bespoke the wily parrot Unto fair May Collin: 'What have you done with false Sir John, That went with you yestreen?'

23 'O hold your tongue, my pretty parrot, And talk no more to me, And where you had a meal a day O now you shall have three.'

24 Then up bespoke her father dear, From his chamber where he lay: 'What aileth thee, my pretty Poll, That you chat so long or day?'

25 'The cat she came to my cage-door, The thief I could not see, And I called to fair May Collin, To take the cat from me.'

26 Then first she told her father dear The deed that she had done, And next she told her mother dear Concerning false Sir John.

27 'If this be true, fair May Collin, That you have told to me, Before I either eat or drink This false Sir John I'll see.'

28 Away they went with one consent, At dawning of the day, Until they came to Carline Sands, And there his body lay.

29 His body tall, by that great fall, By the waves tossed to and fro, The diamond ring that he had on Was broke in pieces two.

30 And they have taken up his corpse To yonder pleasant green, And there they have buried false Sir John, For fear he should be seen.

E

J. H. Dixon, Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England, p. 74.

1 An outlandish knight came from the north lands, And he came a-wooing to me; He told me he'd take me unto the north lands, And there he would marry me.

2 'Come, fetch me some of your father's gold, And some of your mother's fee, And two of the best nags out of the stable, Where they stand thirty and three.'

3 She fetched him some of her father's gold, And some of her mother's fee, And two of the best nags out of the stable, Where they stood thirty and three.

4 She mounted her on her milk-white steed, He on the dapple grey; They rode till they came unto the sea-side, Three hours before it was day.

5 'Light off, light off thy milk-white steed, And deliver it unto me; Six pretty maids have I drowned here, And thou the seventh shalt be.

6 'Pull off, pull off thy silken gown, And deliver it unto me; Methinks it looks too rich and too gay To rot in the salt sea.

7 'Pull off, pull off thy silken stays, And deliver them unto me; Methinks they are too fine and gay To rot in the salt sea.

8 'Pull off, pull off thy Holland smock, And deliver it unto me; Methinks it looks too rich and gay To rot in the salt sea.'

9 'If I must pull off my Holland smock, Pray turn thy back unto me; For it is not fitting that such a ruffian A naked woman should see.'

10 He turned his back towards her And viewed the leaves so green; She catched him round the middle so small, And tumbled him into the stream.

11 He dropped high and he dropped low, Until he came to the side; 'Catch hold of my hand, my pretty maiden, And I will make you my bride.'

12 'Lie there, lie there, you false-hearted man, Lie there instead of me; Six pretty maids have you drowned here, And the seventh has drowned thee.'

13 She mounted on her milk-white steed, And led the dapple grey; She rode till she came to her own father's hall, Three hours before it was day.

14 The parrot being in the window so high, Hearing the lady, did say, 'I'm afraid that some ruffian has led you astray, That you have tarried so long away.'

15 'Don't prittle nor prattle, my pretty parrot, Nor tell no tales of me; Thy cage shall be made of the glittering gold, Although it is made of a tree.'

16 The king being in the chamber so high, And hearing the parrot, did say, 'What ails you, what ails you, my pretty parrot, That you prattle so long before day?'

17 'It's no laughing matter,' the parrot did say, 'That so loudly I call unto thee, For the cats have got into the window so high, And I'm afraid they will have me.'

18 'Well turned, well turned, my pretty parrot, Well turned, well turned for me; Thy cage shall be made of the glittering gold, And the door of the best ivory.'

F

Roxburghe Ballads, III, 449.

1 'Go fetch me some of your father's gold, And some of your mother's fee, And I'll carry you into the north land, And there I'll marry thee.'

2 She fetchd him some of her father's gold, And some of her mother's fee; She carried him into the stable, Where horses stood thirty and three.

3 She leapd on a milk-white steed, And he on a dapple-grey; They rode til they came to a fair river's side, Three hours before it was day.

4 'O light, O light, you lady gay, O light with speed, I say, For six knight's daughters have I drowned here, And you the seventh must be.'

5 'Go fetch the sickle, to crop the nettle That grows so near the brim, For fear it should tangle my golden locks, Or freckle my milk-white skin.'

6 He fetchd the sickle, to crop the nettle That grows so near the brim, And with all the strength that pretty Polly had She pushd the false knight in.

7 'Swim on, swim on, thou false knight, And there bewail thy doom, For I don't think thy cloathing too good To lie in a watry tomb.'

8 She leaped on her milk-white steed, She led the dapple grey; She rid till she came to her father's house, Three hours before it was day.

9 'Who knocked so loudly at the ring?' The parrot he did say; 'O where have you been, my pretty Polly, All this long summer's day?'

10 'O hold your tongue, parrot, Tell you no tales of me; Your cage shall be made of beaten gold, Which is now made of a tree.'

11 O then bespoke her father dear, As he on his bed did lay: 'O what is the matter, my parrot, That you speak before it is day?'

12 'The cat's at my cage, master, And sorely frighted me, And I calld down my Polly To take the cat away.'

* * * * *

#A.#

_Burden. Song xix of Forbes's 'Cantus,' Aberdeen, 1682, 3d ed., has, as pointed out by Motherwell, Minstrelsy, p. lx, nearly the same burden: ~The gowans are gay, The first morning of May~. And again, a song in the Tea Table Miscellany, as remarked by Buchan, ~There gowans are gay, The first morning of May~: p. 404 of the 12th ed., London, 1763._

#b.#

_No doubt furnished to Motherwell by Buchan, as a considerable number of ballads in this part of his MS. seem to have been._

3^2. Then in.

8^1. kind sir, said she.

10^2. That we may some rest before I die.

11^1. the near.

13^2. to them ilk ane.

_1 is given by Motherwell, Minstrelsy, p. lx, but apparently to improve metre and secure rhyme, thus_:

Lady Isabel sits in her bouir sewing, She heard an elf-knight his horn blowing.

#B b.#

_Buchan's printed copy differs from the manuscript very slightly, except in spelling._

4^3, 6^3. Aft times hae I.

5^3. And sighing sair says.

7^3, 9^3. And sighing says.

14^2. Till she swam.

14^3. Then thanked.

14^4. she'd.

#c.#

_Like #A b#, derived by Motherwell from Buchan._

4^1, 6^1, 8^1. wade in, wade in.

14^3. And thanked.

_Dixon, Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, p. 63, printing #B# from the manuscript, makes one or two trivial changes._

#d#

_is only this fragment_.

4^3 Mony a time I rade wi my brown foal The water o Wearie's Wells.

'Leave aff, leave aff your gey mantle, It's a' gowd but the hem; Leave aff, leave [aff], it's far owre gude To weet i the saut see faem.'

5 She wade in, an he rade in, Till it took her to the knee; Wi sighin said that lady gay 'Sic wadin's no for me.'

* * * * * * *

9 He rade in, and she wade in, Till it took her to the chin; Wi sighin said that ladie gay 'I'll wade nae farer in.'

10^3 'Sax king's dochters I hae drowned, An the seventh you sall be.'

* * * * * * *

13 'Lie you there, you fause young man, Where you thought to lay me.'

#C b.#

_The printed copy follows the manuscript with only very trifling variations_: Colvin _for_ Colven;

13^1, up then spak;

16^4, ere day;

17^2, almost worried.

#c.#

2^{1, 2}. he's courted.

2^3. Till once he got.

_Between 2 and 3 is inserted:_

She's gane to her father's coffers, Where all his money lay, And she's taken the red, and she's left the white, And so lightly as she tripped away.

3^1 She's gane down to her father's stable,

3^3 And she's taken the best, and she's left the warst.

4 He rode on, and she rode on, They rode a long summer's day, Until they came to a broad river, An arm of a lonesome sea.

5^{3, 4} 'For it's seven king's daughters I have drowned here, And the eighth I'll out make with thee.'

6^{1, 2} 'Cast off, cast off your silks so fine, And lay them on a stone.'

7^{1, 2, 3} 'Cast off, cast off your holland smock, And lay it on this stone, For it's too fine.' ...

9^{3, 4} She's twined her arms about his waist, And thrown him into

10^{1, 2} 'O hold a grip of me, May Colvin, For fear that I should'

^3 father's gates

^4 and safely I'll set you down.

11 'O lie you there, thou false Sir John, O lie you there,' said she, 'For you lie not in a caulder bed Than the ane you intended for me.'

12^3. father's gates.

12^4. At the breaking of the day.

13^4. yestreen.

_Between 13 and 14 is inserted:_

Up then spake the pretty parrot, In the bonnie cage where it lay: 'O what hae ye done with the false Sir John, That he behind you does stay?'

15^{3, 4} 'Your cage will be made of the beaten gold, And the spakes of ivorie.'

17^{1, 2} 'It was a cat cam ... I thought 't would have' ...

#D a.#

2^1. Colin.

#b#.

_Buchan's copy makes many slight changes which are not noticed here._

1^2. west countrie.

_After 1 is inserted:_

All ladies of a gude account As ever yet were known; This traitor was a baron knight, They calld him fause Sir John.

_After 2:_

'Thou art the darling of my heart, I say, fair May Colvin, So far excells thy beauties great That ever I hae seen.'

3^2. Hae towers, towns twenty three.

7^2. five hunder.

7^3. The best an steed.

8^3. fatal end.

8^4. Binyan's Bay.

12^2. rich and rare.

12^4. sea ware.

_After 12:_

Then aff she's taen her jewels fine, And thus she made her moan: 'Hae mercy on a virgin young, I pray you, gude Sir John.'

'Cast aff, cast aff, fair May Colvin, Your gown and petticoat, For they're too costly and too fine To rot by the sea rock.'

13^4. Before her.

14^4. to toss.

18^3. her steed.

23^3. What hast thou made o fause.

28^3. Charlestown sands. _Sharps thinks Carline Sands means Carlinseugh Sands on the coast of Forfarshire._

_After 30:_

Ye ladies a', wherever you be, That read this mournful song, I pray you mind on May Colvin, And think on fause Sir John.

Aff they've taen his jewels fine, To keep in memory; And sae I end my mournful sang And fatal tragedy.

#c.#

_Motherwell's one stanza is:_

O heard ye eer o a bloody knight That livd in the west countrie? For he has stown seven ladies fair, And drownd them a' in the sea.

#E.#

3^2. of the.

17^2. But so.

[24] 'The Elfin Knight' begins very much like #A#, but perhaps has borrowed its opening stanzas from this ballad. See page 13.

[25] The second stanza, which describes the harping, occurs again in 'Glenkindie' (st. 6).

[26] Perhaps the change from wood, #A#, to water, #B-F#, was made under the influence of some Merman ballad, or by admixture with such a ballad; e.g., 'Nøkkens Svig,' Grundtvig, No 39. In this (#A#) the nix entices a king's daughter away from a dance, sets her on his horse, and rides with her over the heath to a wild water, into which she sinks. It is also quite among possibilities that there was originally an English nix ballad, in which the king's daughter saved herself by some artifice, not, of course, such as is employed in #B-F#, but like that in #A#, or otherwise. Maid Heiemo, in Landstad, No 39, kills a nix with "one of her small knives." Had she put him to sleep with a charm, and killed him with _his own_ knife, as Lady Isabel does, there would have been nothing to shock credibility in the story.

Aytoun, Ballads of Scotland, I, 219, 2d ed., hastily pronounces Buchan's ballad not authentic, "being made up of stanzas borrowed from versions of 'Burd Helen' ['Child Waters']." There are, indeed, three successive steps into the water in both ballads, but Aytoun should have bethought himself how natural and how common it is for a passage to slip from one ballad into another, when the circumstances of the story are the same; and in some such cases no one can say where the verses that are common originally belonged. Here, indeed, as Grundtvig remarks, IV, 7, note*, it may well be that the verses in question belonged originally to 'Burd Helen,' and were adopted (but in the processes of tradition) into 'The Water of Wearie's Well;' for it must be admitted that the transaction in the water is not a happy conception in the latter, since it shocks probability that the woman should be able to swim ashore, and the man not.

[27] "This ballad appears modern, from a great many expressions, but yet I am certain that it is old: the present copy came from the housekeeper at Methven." Note by Sharpe, in Laing's ed. of the Ballad Book, 1880, p. 130, xvii. Motherwell, in his Minstrelsy, p. lxx, n. 24, says that he had seen a stall ballad as early as 1749, entitled 'The Western Tragedy,' which perfectly agreed with Sharpe's copy. But in his Note-Book, p. 5 (about 1826-7), Motherwell says, "The best copy of May Colean with which I have met occurs in a stall copy printed about thirty years ago [should we then read 1799 instead of 1749?], under the title of 'The Western Tragedy.' I have subsequently seen a posterior reprint of this stall copy under this title, 'The Historical Ballad of May Collean.' In Mr. Sharpe's Ballad Book, the same copy, wanting only one stanza, is given."

[28] According to the variation given by Willems, and adopted by Hoffmann, Halewijn's _son_ came to meet her, tied her horse to a tree, and bade her to sit down by him and loose her hair. For every hair she undid she dropped a tear. But it will presently be seen not only that the time has not come for them to sit down, but that Halewijn's bidding her undo her hair (to no purpose) is a perversion of her offering to "red" _his_, to get him into her power, an offer which she makes in the German and Scandinavian ballads, where also there is good reason for her tears, but none as yet here.

[29] J. W. Wolf, Deutsche Märchen u. Sagen, No 29, p. 143, gives the story according to #B#, apparently from a ballad like Snellaert's. So Luise v. Ploennies, Reiseerinnerungen aus Belgien, p. 38.

Halewyn makes his appearance again in the Flemish ballad, 'Halewyn en het kleyne Kind,' Coussemaker, No 46, p. 149; Poésies populaires de la France, vol. I. A boy of seven years has shot one of Halewyn's rabbits, and is for this condemned to be hanged on the highest tree in the park. The father makes great offers for his ransom, but in vain. On the first step of the ladder the child looks back for his mother, on the second for his father, on the third for his brother, on the fourth for his sister, each of whom successively arrives and is told that delay would have cost him his life. It will presently be seen that there is a resemblance here to German ballads (#G-X#, #Z#).

[30] "La chanson de Halewyn, telle à peu près que la donnent Willems, Snellaert et de Coussemaker, se vend encore sur le marché de Bruges. Quoiqu'elle porte pour titre _Halewyn_, jamais notre pièce n'a été connue ici sous ce nom. Le nom de Halewijn, Alewijn ou Alwin ... est réservé au héros de la pièce suivante" [Mi Adel en Hir Alewijn]. Lootens et Feys, p. 66. "Il est a regretter que Willems et de Coussemaker n'aient pas jugé à propos de donner cette pièce telle que le peuple l'a conservée; on serait sans aucun doute en possession de variantes remarquables, et les lacunes qui existent dans notre version n'eussent pas manqué d'être com blées. Il est bon d'insister sur la remarque faite à la suite de la chanson, qu'à Bruges et dans beaucoup de localités de la Flandre, elle n'est connue que sous le titre de _Roland_. Ajoutons que notre texte appartient au dernier siècle." L. et F., 295.

[31] So in 'Liebe ohne Stand,' one of the mixed forms of the German ballad, Wunderhorn, Erk I, 41, Crecelius, I, 36,

Und als es nun kam an den dritten Tag, Da gingen die Pfeiffen und Trommeln an.

[32] E.g., the wonderland in #A# 2-6, and the strict watch kept over the lady in 7-10 are repeated in 'Ribold og Guldborg,' Grundtvig, 82, #B# 2-7, 8-11, and in 'Den trofaste Jomfru,' ib. 249, #A# 3-6, 7-10. The watching in #A#, #B#, #C# and the proffered gifts of #C#, #D#, #F# are found in 'Nøkkens Svig,' Grundtvig, 39, #A#, #B#, 12-18. The disguise in #A# 11-14, the rest in the wood with the knight's head in the lady's lap, #A# 16, 27, #B# 11, 21, #D# 14, 24, #E# 11, 21, etc., recur in Ribold, #B# 12-14, #L# 9, 10, #M# 19, 20, #N# 11, 13, #P# 12, 13. These resemblances, naturally, are not limited to the Danish copies.

[33] So the princess in Asbjörnsen og Moe, N. Folkeeventyr, p. 153. Cf. Campbell's Tales of the West Highlands, III, 209; IV, 282, 283.

[34] The binding and waking, with these words, are found also in a made-up text of 'Frændehævn,' Grundtvig, No 4, #C# 51-53, but certainly borrowed from some copy of 'Kvindemorderen.'

[35] All the German versions appear to have been _originally_ in the two-line stanza.

[36] The copies with this title in Simrock, No 6, p. 15, and in Scherer's Jungbrunnen, No 5 A, and his Deutsche V. L., 1851, p. 349, are compounded from various texts.

[37] Both #D# and #E# have attached to them this final stanza:

'Odilia, why are thy shoes so red?' 'It is three doves that I shot dead.'

This is a well-known commonplace in tragic ballads; and Grundtvig suggests that this stanza was the occasion of the story taking the turn which we find in ballads of the third class.

[38] One scarcely knows whether this bribe is an imperfect reminiscence of splendid promises which the knight makes, e.g., in the Danish ballads, or a shifting from the maid to the knight of the gold which the elsewhere opulent or well-to-do maid gets together while the knight is preparing to set forth; or simply one of those extravagances which so often make their appearance in later versions of ballads.

[39] The number eleven is remarkably constant in the German ballads, being found in #G#, #H#, #J-L#, #N-W#; it is also the number in Swedish #B#. Eight is the favorite number in the North, and occurs in Danish #A-D#, #H-L#, Swedish #A#, #C#, Norwegian #G#, #H#; again in German #I#. German #M#, #X#, Danish #F#, have ten; German #A#, #B#, Danish #E#, Norwegian #I#, have nine; German #C#, #D#, seven; Danish #G# has nineteen. French #A#, #B# have fourteen, fifteen, Italian ballads still higher numbers: #A#, #B#, #C#, thirty-six, #D#, fifty-two, #E#, thirty-three, #F#, three hundred and three.

[40] This stroke of realism fails only in #M#, #N#, #R#, of this second class.

[41] Apparently to a Ribold ballad, of which no other trace has been found in German. See further on in this volume.

[42]

13 'Ach du schöne junkfraw fein, Du pfalzgrävin, du kaiserin! Der Adelger hat sich vor ailf getödt, Du wirst die zwölft, das sei dir gsait.

15 'So bitt mich nit, du junkfraw fein, So bitt mich nit, du herzigs ein!'

The _liebkosung_ of this murder-reeking Adelger, o'ersized with coagulate gore, is admirably horrible.

[43] Nimmersatt (All-begehrend) as interpreted by Meinert, not Adelger.

[44] Verses which recur, nearly, not only in #Y# 17-19, #W# 27, 28, but elsewhere, as in a copy of 'Graf Friedrich,' Erk's Liederhort, p. 41, No 15, st. 19.

[45] There is no sense in _two_ doves. The single dove one may suppose to be the spirit of the last victim. We shall find the _eleven_ appearing as doves in #Q#. There is no occasion to regard the dove here as a Waldminne (Vilmar, Handbüchlein für Freunde des deutschen Volkslieds, p. 57). Cf. the nightingale (and two nightingales) in the Danish 'Redselille og Medelvold:' see 'Leesome Brand,' further on in this volume.

[46] This ballad has become, in Tübingen, a children's game, called 'Bertha im Wald.' The three cries are preserved in verse, and very nearly as in #J#, #M#. The game concludes by the robber smothering Bertha. Meier, Deutsche Kinder-Reime, No 439.

[47] #K#, or the editor, seeks to avoid the difficulty by taking the last line from the knight, and reading, "Mit Blut war er umronnen," an emendation not according with the simplicity of ballads. Another Swabian copy, Meier, p. 301, note, strophe 6, has:

'Wir müssen zu selbigem Bronnen Wo Wasser und Blut heraus ronnen.'

[48] The last verses are these, and not very much worse than the rest:

Mein Bruder ist ein Jägersmann, Der alle Thierlein schiessen kann; Er hatt' ein zweischneidiges Schwerte, Und stach es dem Falschen ins Herze.

Ihr Mädchen alle insgemein, Lasst euch doch diess zur Warnung sein, Und geht doch mit keinem so falschen In einen so finsteren Walde.

My brother is a hunting man, And all the small game shoot he can; He had a sword with edges two, And ran the heart of the false man through

Ye maidens now in general, Let this be warning to you all; With man so false you never should Go to _so very_ dark a wood.

[49] So in Rochholz, Schweizer Sagen, No 14, I, 23, a man who had killed eleven maids would, if he could have made up the number twelve, have been able to pass through walls and mouseholes. Again, a certain robber in Jutland, who had devoured eight children's hearts, would have acquired the power of flying could he but have secured one more. Grundtvig, D. g. F. IV, 16, note.

[50] What will those who are so troubled about cork-heeled shoon in 'Sir Patrick Spens' say to the fire-arms in #L#, #N#, #S#?

[51] A variety of #W#, cited in Schlesische Volkslieder, p. 26, has,

'Ach Ulbrich, Ulbrich, Halsemann, Halsemann, Lass du mich nur drei Gale schrei'n!'

Grundtvig, assuming that the name is Ulbrich Halsemann, would account for the second and superfluous character here [found also in #W#] by a divarication of Ulrich Halsemann into Ulrich _and_ Halsemann (Hanslein). Ansar, "bisher unverständlicher Vorname des Ritters Uleraich" in #Y# (Meinert), would equally well yield Hanslein. Might not Halsemann possibly be an equivalent of Halsherr?

[52] And in 'Der Mutter Fluch,' Meinert, p. 246, a ballad with which #Y# agrees in the first two and last four stanzas.

[53] There is a dove in #Z#, but #Z#, as has been said, presents traits of all three classes.

[54]

'Da lyge, feyns Lybchen, unndt fawle, Meyn jungk Herze muss trawren.'

Nicolai, vv 35, 36,

'Da liege, du Häuptchen, und faule, Kein Reuter wird dir nachtrauern.'

Simrock, vv 35, 36,

are evidently derived from the apostrophe to the murderer's head in #I#, #W#, #Y#.

Stolz Syburg is the hero of a very different ballad, from the Münster region, Reifferscheid, No 16, p. 32 (also No 17, and Simrock, No 9, p. 23, 'Stolz Heinrich'). And from this the name, in consequence of a remote resemblance in the story, may have been taken up by the Rhine ballad, though it has contributed nothing more. Margaret, a king's daughter, is wiled away by a splendid description of Stolz Syburg's opulence. When they have gone a long way, he tells her that he has nothing but a barren heath. She stabs herself at his feet.

[55] 'Wassermans Braut,' Meinert, p. 77; 'Die unglückliche Braut,' Hoffmann u. Richter, Schlesische V. L., p. 6, No. 2; 'Königs Töchterlein,' Erk u. Irmer, vi, 6, No 4; 'Der Wassermann,' Erk's Liederhort, p. 50, No 17. ('Die Nixenbraut,' "Norddeutschland," Zuccalmaglio, p. 192, No 92, seems to be Meinert's copy written over.)

[56] The remarkable Norwegian ballad of the 'Wassermanns Brant' group, The Nix and Heiemo, Landstad, No 39, p. 350, has not been unaffected by the one we are now occupied with. There is even a verbal contact between stanza 19,

'Heiemo tenkte með sjave seg: Tru mine smá _knivar_ 'ki hjelper meg?'

and Norwegian #F#, stanza 9, cited by Grundtvig, IV, 4,

Lengji stó Gullbjör, hó tenkte mæ seg: 'Kann inkje mí' _rúninne_ hjelpe meg?'

[57] Kolberg's #b#, #h#, #k#, #v#, #x#, #bb#, #cc#, #hh#, #kk#, #ll#, #nn#, #xx#, #yy#, #zz#, consist of only one or two initial stanzas, containing no important variation. His #aaa#, a fragment of six stanzas, Pauli, p. 147, No 6, Wojcicki, II, 169, though it begins like the rest, sounds like a different ballad.

The ballad in Wojcicki, I, 38, is allied with the one we are engaged with, and the two fragments on p. 36, p. 37 with both this and that.

[58] Anne in #R#, #LL#, and Kolberg's #h#: Mary in #I#, #U#, #II#: Ursula, #N#: both Catherine and Alice, #AA#. John is found in all but #N#, where there is a nameless seigneur.

[59] They are expressly said to go off in a carriage in #I#, #O#, #Q#, #T#, #BB#, #DD#, #FF#. Still, in #I#, John says, "Let the black horse have something to carry under us." In #O#, #T#, #FF#, the horses have a presentiment of evil to their mistress, and refuse to stir.

[60] One version of 'The Two Sisters,' #Q#, has the same answer:

'I did not put you in with the design Just for to pull you out again.'

st. 9.

This might be called a formula in Polish ballads: something of the kind occurs three times in #X#, four times in #B#, five times in #P#; in other ballads also. In #Q# 25, Catherine clutches the river bank, and John pushes away her hands. Compare 'The Two Sisters,' #F# 9, further on in this volume.

[61] #L#, #L*#, #M#, #N#, as already said, confuse the two catastrophes. John says, in #N#, "Do you see that broad river? I will measure its depth by throwing you in." We may assume that he was as good as his word. But Ursula made her way home through woods and forests, weeping her eyes out on the way. Kind souls dug a grave for her. The conclusion of #M# is absurd, but need not be particularized. #G# has a passage of the sternest theology. While Catherine is struggling in the water, her father comes by. She cries to him to save her. He says, "My dear Catherine, you have loved pleasure too much. Lord Jesus grant you drown!" Her mother appears, and makes the same reply to her daughter's appeal. There are stall-copy terminal morals to many of the ballads.

[62] #N# 1, "A lord came riding from his estate to a neighbor."

[63] The place is high above the water in #R# 10, 11, as in English #D# 9, 29, #C# 4.

[64] #BB# 6, "My mother said that I had seen you; she will _watch me closely_," may be an accidental coincidence with Danish #A# 7-9, #B# 6-8, etc.

[65] The second, and more valuable, volume of Waldau's B. G. I have found it impossible to obtain. Reifferscheid cites the ballad at p. 166.

[66] A few silly verses follow in the original, in which Thomas treats what he had said as a jest. These are properly rejected by Talvj as a spurious appendage.

[67]

'De achte de soll Helena sin, De achte de most he sölwer sin.'

German #A b# 13.

[68] Another version of this double ballad, but much corrupted in the second part, was known to Gérard de Nerval. See Les Filles du Feu, Œuvres complètes, V, 132.

[69] So far there is agreement in 'La Fille du Prince,' Paymaigre, No 32, p. 106; Poésies pop. de la France, MS., III, fol. 133.

[70] The Asturian romance communicated in two copies by Amador de los Rios to Jahrbuch für rom. u. eng. Literatur, III, 285, No 2, and the Portuguese 'Romance de Romeirinha,' Braga, Romanceiro, No 9, p. 24, 'A Romeira,' Almeida-Garrett, III, 11, are not parallels, though they have been cited as such.

[71] Magyar Népköltési Gyüjtemény. Uj Folyam, szerkesztik és kiadják Arany László és Gyulai Pál. Collection of Magyar Popular Poetry, New Series, Pest, 1872, 2 vols. Aigner, has blended Nos 4 and 3 (#C#, #A#) in 'Martin und Aennchen,' Ungarische Volksdichtungen, p. 170, and has translated No 1 (#E#), at p. 120, 'Molnár Anna,' in each case obscuring or omitting one or two traits which are important for a comparative view.

[72] Very little remains of the artifice in Polish #A#. The idea seems to be that the girl pretends to be curious about the sword in order to get it into her hands. But the whole story is told in ten stanzas.

[73] I accept and repeat Grundtvig's views as to the relation of the three forms of the story. And with regard to the history of the ballad generally, this is but one of many cases in which much or most of the work had been done to my hand in Danmarks gamle Folkeviser.

[74] Memering was required by his adversary to swear that he knew not of the sword Adelring, and took his oath that he knew of nothing but the hilt being above ground, which was accepted as satisfactory. Presently he pulls Adelring out of the ground, into which he had thrust the blade, and, being accused of perjury, triumphantly rejoins that he had sworn that he knew of nothing but the hilt _being above ground_. Dietrich does the same in his duel with Sigurd Swain.

[75] Magyar #A# is entirely peculiar. Apparently the man lays his head in the woman's lap that he may know, by the falling of her tears, when she has disobeyed his command not to look into the tree. This is like 'Bluebeard,' and rather subtle for a ballad.

[76] 'Child Waters,' 'The Fair Flower of Northumberland.'

[77] The murderer has a horn in Swedish #C#, #D#, as also in the Dutch Halewyn and the German #A#, #B#, #C#, #E#, and the horn may be of magical power, but it is not distinctly described as such.

[78] The scenery of the halting-place in the wood--the bloody streams in Danish #A#, #B#, #D#, #H#, #L#, #K#, the blood-girt spring in German #H#, #J#, #K#, #L#, #O#, #P#, #Q#--is also, to say the least, suggestive of something horribly uncanny. These are undoubtedly ancient features, though the spring, as the Danish editor observes, has no longer any significancy in the German ballads, because in all of them the previous victims are said to have been _hanged_.

[79] The saga in Björner's Nordiska Kämpadater, c. 5-7.

[80] Danish #E#, #I#, #L#, and even #A#, make the knight suggest to the lady that she should get her gold together while he is saddling his horse; but this is a commonplace found in other cases of elopement, and _by itself_ warrants no conclusion as to the knight's rapacity. See 'Samson,' Grundtvig, No 6, #C# 5; 'Ribold og Guldborg,' No 82, #C# 13, #E# 14, etc.; 'Redselille og Medelvold,' No 271, #A# 21, #B# 20; 272, Bilag 3, st. 8; 270, 18, etc.

[81] So perhaps a Polish ballad in Wojcicki, I, 38, akin to the other John and Katie ballads.

[82] It is well known that in the Middle Ages the blood of children or of virgins was reputed a specific for leprosy (see, e.g., Cassel in the Weimar Jahrbücher, I, 408.) Some have thought to find in this fact an explanation of the murders in these ballads and in the Bluebeard stories, and, according to Rochholz, this theory has been adopted into popular tradition in the Aargau. So far as this cycle of ballads is concerned, there is as much ground for holding that the blood was wanted to cure leprosy as for believing that the gold was wanted for _aurum potabile_.

[83] Det philologisk-historiske Samfunds Mindeskrift i Anledning af dets femogtyveaarige Virksomhed, 1854-79, Bidrag til den nordiske Balladedigtnings Historie, p. 75 ff.

[84] Bugge cites the Old German Judith, Müllenhoff u. Scherer, Denkmäler, 2d ed., No 37, p. 105, to show how the Bible story became modified under a popular treatment.

[85] Holefern might doubtless pass into Halewyn, but there is not the slightest need of Holefern to _account_ for Halewyn. Halewyn, besides being a well-known local and family appellation, is found in two other Dutch ballads, one of which (Lootens and Feys, p. 66, No 38; Hoffmann, p. 46, No 11) has no kind of connection with the present, and is no more likely to have derived the name from this than this from that. It shall not be denied that Adelger, Hilsinger, Rullemann, Reimvord might have sprung from or have been suggested by Holofern, under the influence of familiar terminations, but it may be remarked that Hildebrand, Ravengaard, Valdemar, Rosmer, if they had occurred in any version, would have occasioned no greater difficulty.

[86] The Old German poem makes Holofernes kindle with desire for Judith the moment he sees her, and he bids his men bring her to his tent. They lift her up and bring her in.

[87] It should be observed that these words are from the dove's warning.

[88] Simply because he had no other apartment at his disposition. Shall we add, the Polish mother putting her daughter into the "new room," in which she kept her valuables?

[89] Bugge holds that the ballad was derived by the Scandinavians from the Germans, more precisely by the Danes from a Low German form. This, he says, would follow from what he has maintained above, and he finds support for his view in many particular traits of Norse copies. Thus, one of the Norwegian names for the murderer is Alemarken. The first three syllables are very near to the Danish Oldemor; but -ken seems to be the German diminutive suffix, and can only be explained by the ballad having come from Germany.

[90] This toilet derives importance solely from the agreement with Judith x, 3: for the rest it is entirely in the ballad style. Compare the toilets in 'Hafsfrun,' Afzelius, No 92, III, 148, Arwidsson, No 150, II, 320, Wigström, Folkdiktning, No 2, p. 11, Landstad, No 55, p. 494: 'Guldsmedens Datter,' Grundtvig, No. 245, IV, 481 ff, Wigström, ib., No 18, p. 37, Landstad, No 43, p. 437: Torkilds Riim, Lyngbye, Færøiske Qvæder, 534, 535, Afzelius, III, 202: 'Stolts Karin,' Arwidsson, No 63, I, 388: 'Liti Kerstis hevn,' Landstad, No 67, p. 559 == 'Lord Thomas and Fair Annet': in many of which there is a gold crown. There is a man's toilet in Grundtvig, No 207, IV, 201.

[91] Bugge would naturally have seen the Assyrian scouts that Judith falls in with (x, 11) in Roland's father, mother, and brother, all of whom hail the maid as she is making for Roland's quarters (#C# 30-38); still more "Holofernes jacebat in lecto" (xiii, 4), in "Roland die op zijn bedde lag," #C# 39.

[92] Judith xiv, 1: "Suspendite caput hoc super muros nostros." The cutting off and bringing home of the head, as need hardly be said, is not of itself remarkable, being found everywhere from David to Beówulf, and from Beówulf to 'Sir Andrew Barton.'

[93] Dutch #B#, which, as before said, has been completely rewritten, makes the comparison with Holofernes:

34 'Ik heb van't leven hem beroofd, in mynen schoot heb ik zyn hoofd, hy is als Holofernes gelooft.'

37 Zy reed dan voort als Judith wys, zoo regt nae haer vaders paleis, daer zy wierd ingehaeld met eer en prys.

5

GIL BRENTON

#A. a.# 'Gil Brenton,' Jamieson Brown MS., fol. 34. #b.# 'Chil Brenton,' William Tytler Brown MS., No 3.

#B.# 'Cospatrick,' Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 117 (1802).

#C.# 'We were sisters, we were seven,' Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, p. 207.

#D.# 'Lord Dingwall,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 204.

#E.# Elizabeth Cochrane's song-book, No 112.

#F. a.# 'Lord Brangwill,' Motherwell's MSS, p. 219. #b.# 'Lord Bengwill,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xvi.

#G.# 'Bothwell,' Herd's Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, p. 244.

#H.# Kinloch MSS, V, 335.

Eight copies of this ballad are extant, four of them hitherto unpublished. #A a#, No 16 in the Jamieson-Brown MS., is one of twenty ballads written down from the recitation of Mrs. Brown of Falkland, by her nephew, Robert Scott, in 1783, or shortly before. From these twenty thirteen were selected, and, having first been revised by Mrs. Brown, were sent, with two others, to William Tytler in the year just mentioned. William Tytler's MS. has disappeared, but a list of the ballads which it contained, with the first stanza of each, is given by Dr Anderson, in Nichols's Illustrations of the Literary History of the Eighteenth Century, VII, 176. #B# is the 'Cospatrick' of the Border Minstrelsy, described by Scott as taken down from the recitation of a lady (known to be Miss Christian Rutherford, his mother's sister) "with some stanzas transferred from Herd's copy, and some readings adopted from a copy in Mrs Brown's manuscript under the title of Child Brenton," that is, from #A b#. #C# purports to be one of a considerable number of pieces, "copied from the recital of a peasant-woman of Galloway, upwards of ninety years of age." Though overlaid with verses of Cunningham's making (of which forty or fifty may be excided in one mass) and though retouched almost everywhere, both the groundwork of the story and some genuine lines remain unimpaired. The omission of most of the passage referred to, and the restoration of the stanza form, will give us, perhaps, a thing of shreds and patches, but still a ballad as near to genuine as some in Percy's Reliques or even Scott's Minstrelsy. #D# and #F# are (the former presumably, the second certainly) from recitation of the first quarter of this century. #E# is one of the few ballads in Elizabeth Cochrane's song-book, and probably of the first half of the last century. #G#, the earliest printed form of the ballad, appeared in Herd's first collection, in the year 1769. #H# was taken down from recitation by the late Dr Hill Burton in his youth.

#A#, #B#, and #C# agree in these points: A bride, not being a maid, looks forward with alarm to her wedding night, and induces her bower-woman to take her place for the nonce. The imposture is detected by the bridegroom, through the agency of magical blankets, sheets, and pillows, #A#; or of blankets, bed, sheet, and sword, #B#; or simply of the Billie Blin, #C#. (The sword is probably an editorial insertion; and Jamieson, Illustrations of Northern Antiquities, p. 343, doubts, but without sufficient reason, the Billie Blin.) The bridegroom has recourse to his mother, who demands an explanation of the bride, and elicits a confession that she had once upon a time encountered a young man in a wood, who subjected her to violence. Before they parted, he gave her certain tokens, which he enjoined her to be very careful of, a lock of his hair, a string of beads, a gold ring, and a knife. #B# omits the knife, and #C# the beads. The mother goes back to her son, and asks what he had done with the tokens she had charged him never to part with. He owns that he had presented them to a lady, one whom he would now give all his possessions to have for his wife. The lady of the greenwood is identified by the tokens.

#A#, #C#, and #D# make the mother set a golden chair for the bride, in which none but a maid can sit, #D# [no leal maid will sit till bidden, #C#]. In #D# the chair is declined; in #C#, taken without bidding; in #A# the significance of the chair has been lost. #E#, #F#, #G# employ no kind of test of maidenhood,--the bride frankly avows that she is with child to another man; and #D#, as well as #E#, #F#, #G#, omits the substitution of the chambermaid. The tokens in #D# are a chain, a ring, and three locks of hair; in #E#, gloves and a ring; in #F#, #G#, green gloves, a ring, and three locks [plaits] of hair. Only the ring remains in #H#.

"This ballad," says Motherwell (1827), "is very popular, and is known to reciters under a variety of names. I have heard it called Lord Bangwell, Bengwill, Dingwall, Brengwill, etc., and The Seven Sisters, or the Leaves of Lind." He adds: "There is an unedited ballad in Scotland, which is a nearer approximation to the Danish song, inasmuch as the substitution of the maiden sister for the real bride constitutes a prominent feature of the tale."[94] (Minstrelsy, Introduction, lxix^21 and xc.)

Scott remarks that Cospatrick[95] "was the designation of the Earl of Dunbar, in the days of Wallace and Bruce." Mr Macmath informs me that it is in use at the present day in the families of the Earl of Home and of Dunbar of Mochrum, Bart, who, among others, claim descent from the ancient earls of Dunbar and March. The story of the ballad might, of course, attach itself to any person prominent in the region where the ballad was known.

#Swedish.# Three Swedish versions of this ballad were given by Afzelius: #A#, 'Riddar Olle' in 50 two-line stanzas, II, 217; #B#, 19 two-line stanzas, II, 59; #C#, 19 two-line stanzas, II, 56: No 33, I, 175-182 of Bergström's edition. Besides these, there are two fragments in Cavallius and Stephens's unprinted collection: #D#, 6 stanzas; #E#, 7 stanzas, the latter printed in Grundtvig, V, 307.[96] All these were obtained from recitation in the present century. #A# comes nearest to our #A#, #B#. Like Scottish #B#, it seems to have been compounded from several copies. Sir Olof betrothed Ingalilla, and carried her home for the spousal, wearing a red gold crown and a wan cheek. Ingalilla gave birth to twin-boys. Olof had a maid who resembled Ingalilla completely, and who, upon Ingalilla's entreaty, consented to play the part of bride on the morrow. Dressed in Ingalilla's clothes, blue kirtle, green jacket, etc., and wearing five gold rings and a gold crown, the maid rode to church, with Ingalilla at her back, and her beauty was admired by all as she came and went. But outside of the church were a good many musicians; and one of these piped out, "God-a-mercy, Ingalilla, no maid art thou!" Ingalilla threw into the piper's hand something which made him change his tune. He was an old drunken fellow, and no one need mind what he sang. After five days of drinking, they took the bride to her chamber, not without force. Ingalilla bore the light before her, and helped put her to bed; then lay down herself. Olof had over him a fur rug, which could talk as well as he, and it called out,

'Hear me, Sir Olof, hear what I say; Thou hast taken a strumpet, and missed a may.'

And Olof,

'Hear, little Inga, sweetheart,' he said; 'What didst thou get for thy maidenhead?'[97]

Inga explained. Her father was a strange sort of man, and built her bower by the sea-strand, where all the king's courtiers took ship. Nine had broken in, and one had robbed her of her honor. He had given her an embroidered sark, a blue kirtle, green jacket, black mantle, gloves, five gold rings, a red gold crown, a golden harp, and a silver-mounted knife, which she now wishes in the youngster's body. The conclusion is abruptly told in two stanzas. Olof bids Inga not to talk so, for he is father of her children. He embraces her and gives her a queen's crown and name. #B# has the same story, omitting the incident of the musician. #C# has preserved this circumstance, but has lost both the substitution of the waiting-woman for the bride and the magical coverlet. #D# has also lost these important features of the original story; #E# has retained them.

#Danish.# 'Brud ikke Mø,' Grundtvig, No 274, V, 304. There are two old versions (more properly only one, so close is the agreement), and a third from recent tradition. This last, Grundtvig's #C#, from Jutland, 1856, seems to be of Swedish origin, and, like Swedish #C#, #D#, wants the talking coverlet, though it has kept the other material feature, that of the substitution. #A# is found in two manuscripts, one of the sixteenth and the other of the seventeenth century. #B# is the well-known 'Ingefred og Gudrune,' or 'Herr Samsings Nattergale,' Syv, IV, No 62, Danske Viser, No 194, translated in Jamieson's Illustrations, p. 340, and by Prior, III, 347. A later form of #B#, from recent recitation, 1868, is given in Kristensen's Jydske Folkeviser, I, No 53.

The story in #A# runs thus: Sølverlad and Vendelrod [Ingefred and Gudrune] were sitting together, and Vendelrod wept sorely. Sølverlad asked her sister the reason, and was told there was cause. Would she be bride one night? Vendelrod would give her wedding clothes and all her outfit. But Sølverlad asked for bridegroom too, and Vendelrod would not give up her bridegroom, happen what might. She went to church and was married to Samsing. On the way from church they met a spaeman [#B#, shepherd], who warned Vendelrod that Samsing had some nightingales that could tell him whether he had married a maid or no. The sisters turned aside and changed clothes, but could not change cheeks! Sølverlad was conducted to Samsing's house and placed on the bride bench. An unlucky jester called out, "Methinks this is not Vendelrod!" but a gold ring adroitly thrown into his bosom opened his eyes still wider, and made him pretend he had meant nothing. The supposed bride is put to bed. Samsing invokes his nightingales: "Have I a maid or no?" They reply, it is a maid that lies in the bed, but Vendelrod stands on the floor. Samsing asks Vendelrod why she avoided her bed, and she answers: her father lived on the strand; her bower was broken into by a large company of men, and one of them robbed her of her honor. In this case there are no tokens for evidence. Samsing owns immediately that he and his men had broken into the bower, and Vendelrod's agony is over.

Some of the usual tokens, gold harp, sark, shoes, and silver-mounted knife, are found in the later #C#. Danish #D# is but a single initial stanza.

Besides Sølverlad and Vendelrod, there is a considerable number of Danish ballads characterized by the feature that a bride is not a maid, and most or all of these have similarities to 'Gil Brenton.' 'Hr. Find og Vendelrod,' Grundtvig, No 275, has even the talking blanket (sometimes misunderstood to be a bed-_board_). In this piece there is no substitution. Vendelrod gives birth to children, and the news makes Find jump over the table. Still he puts the question mildly, who is the father, and recognizes that he is the man, upon hearing the story of the bower on the strand, and seeing half a gold ring which Vendelrod had received "for her honor."

In 'Ingelilles Bryllup,' Grundtvig, No 276, Blidelild is induced to take Ingelild's place by the promise that she shall marry Ingelild's brother. Hr. Magnus asks her why she is so sad, and says he knows she is not a maid. Blidelild says, "Since you know so much, I will tell you more," and relates Ingelild's adventure,--how she had gone out to the river, and nine knights came riding by, etc. [so #A#; in #B# and #C# we have the bower on the strand, as before]. Hr. Magnus avows that he was the ninth, who stayed when eight rode away. Blidelild begs that he will allow her to go and look for some lost rings, and uses the opportunity to send back Ingelild in her stead.

Various other Scandinavian ballads have more or less of the story of those which have been mentioned. In the Danish 'Brud i Vaande,' Grundtvig, No 277, a bride is taken with untimely pains while being "brought home." The question asked in several of the Scottish ballads, whether the saddle is uncomfortable, occurs in #A#, #B#; the bower that was forced by eight swains and a knight in #A#, #C#, #D#, #F#; the gifts in #A#, #B#, #F#; and an express acknowledgment of the act of violence by the bridegroom in #A#, #B#, #D#. We find all of these traits except the first in the corresponding Swedish ballad 'Herr Äster och Fröken Sissa,' Afzelius, No 38, new ed., No 32,^1; the saddle and broken bower in Swedish #D#, Grundtvig, No 277, Bilag 1; only the saddle in Swedish #F#, Grundtvig, No. 277, Bilag 3, and #C#, Arwidsson, No 132; the saddle and gifts in Icelandic #A#, #B#, #C#, #D#, #E#, Grundtvig, No 277, Bilag 5, 6, 7, 8.

'Peder og Malfred,' Grundtvig, No 278, in four versions, the oldest from a manuscript of 1630, represents Sir Peter as riding away from home about a month after his marriage, and meeting a woman who informs him that there is a birth in his house. He returns, and asks who is the father. Sir Peter satisfies himself that he is the man by identifying the gifts, in #A#, #B#, #C#, #D#; and in #A#, #B# we have also the bower by the strand.

In 'Oluf og Ellinsborg,' Grundtvig, No 279, #A#, #B#, #C#, one of the queen's ladies is habitually sad, and is pressed by her lover to account for this. She endeavors to put him off with fictitious reasons, but finally nerves herself to tell the truth: she was walking by herself in her orchard, when five knights came riding by, and one was the cause of her grief. Oluf owns it was all his doing. A Swedish ballad, remarkably close to the Danish, from a manuscript of the date 1572 (the oldest Danish version is also from a manuscript of the 16th century), is 'Riddar Lage och Stolts Elensborg,' Arwidsson, No 56.

'Iver Hr. Jonsøn,' Grundtvig, No 280, in five versions, the oldest of the 16th century, exhibits a lady as fearing the arrival of her lover's ship, and sending her mother to meet him, while she takes to her bed. Immediately upon her betrothed's entering her chamber, she abruptly discloses the cause of her trouble. Eight men had broken into her bower on the strand, and the ninth deprived her of her honor. Iver Hr. Jonsøn, with as little delay, confesses that he was the culprit, and makes prompt arrangements for the wedding.

There is another series of ballads, represented by 'Leesome Brand' in English, and by 'Redselille og Medelvold' in Danish, which describe a young woman, who is on the point of becoming a mother, as compelled to go off on horseback with her lover, and suffering from the ride. We find the question, whether the saddle is too narrow or the way too long, in the Danish 'Bolde Hr. Nilaus' Løn,' Grundtvig, 270, 'Redselille og Medelvold,' Grundtvig, 271 #C#, #D#, #E#, #I#, #K#, #L#, #M#, #P#, #Q#, #V#, #Y#, and the Norwegian versions, #A#, #D#, #E#, #F#, of 'Sønnens Sorg,' Grundtvig, 272, Bilag 1, 4, 5, 6.[98] The gifts also occur in Grundtvig's 271 #A#, #Z#, and Norwegian #D#, Bilag 9.

Perhaps no set of incidents is repeated so often in northern ballads as the forcing of the bower on the strand, the giving of keepsakes, the self-identification of the ravisher through these, and his full and hearty reparation. All or some of these traits are found in many ballads besides those belonging to the groups here spoken of: as 'Hildebrand og Hilde,' #E#, #I#, Grundtvig, No 83, and Norwegian #A#, III, 857; 'Guldsmedens Datter,' Grundtvig, 245, and its Swedish counterpart at p. 481 of the preface to the same, and in Eva Wigström's Folkdiktning, p. 37, No 18; 'Liden Kirstins Dans,' Grundtvig, 263 (translated by Prior, 112), and Norwegian #B#, #C#, Bilag 2, 3; 'Jomfruens Harpeslæt,' Grundtvig, 265 (translated by Jamieson, 'Illustrations,' p. 382, Prior, 123, Buchanan, p. 6), and Swedish #D#, Bilag 2, Swedish #A#, Afzelius, 81. So Landstad, 42, 45; Arwidsson, 141; Grundtvig, 37 #G#; 38 #A#, #D#; Kristensen, I, No 95, II, No 28 #A#, #C#.

A very pretty Norwegian tale has for the talisman a stepping-stone at the side of the bed: Asbjørnsen og Moe, No 29, 'Vesle Aase Gaasepige,' Dasent, 2d ed., p. 478. An English prince had pictures taken of all the handsomest princesses, to pick his bride by. When the chosen one arrived, Aase the goose-girl informed her that the stone at the bedside knew everything and told the prince; so if she felt uneasy on any account, she must not step on it. The princess begged Aase to take her place till the prince was fast asleep, and then they would change. When Aase came and put her foot on the stone, the prince asked, "Who is it that is stepping into my bed?" "A maid clean and pure," answered the stone. By and by the princess came and took Aase's place. When they were getting up in the morning, the prince asked again, "Who is it stepping out of my bed?" "One that has had three children," said the stone. The prince sent his first choice away, and tried a second. Aase faithfully warned her, and she had cause for heeding the advice. When Aase stepped in, the stone said it was a maid clean and pure; when the princess stepped out, the stone said it was one that had had six children. The prince was longer in hitting on a third choice. Aase took the bride's place once more, but this time the prince put a ring on her finger, which was so tight that she could not get it off, for he saw that all was not right. In the morning, when he asked, "Who is stepping out of my bed?" the stone answered, "One that has had nine children." Then the prince asked the stone to clear up the mystery, and it revealed how the princesses had put little Aase in their place. The prince went straight to Aase to see if she had the ring. She had tied a rag over her finger, pretending she had cut it; but the prince soon had the rag off, recognized his ring, and Aase got the prince, for the good reason that so it was to be.

The artifice of substituting waiting-woman for bride has been thought to be derived from the romance of Tristan, in which Brangwain [Brengain, Brangaene] sacrifices herself for Isold: Scott's 'Sir Tristrem,' ii, 54; Gottfried V. Strassburg, xviii, ed. Bechstein. Grundtvig truly remarks that a borrowing by the romance from the popular ballad is as probable a supposition as the converse; and that, even should we grant the name of the hero of the ballad to be a reminiscence of that of Isold's attendant (e. g. Brangwill of Brangwain), nothing follows as to the priority of the romance in respect to this passage. A similar artifice is employed in the ballad of 'Torkild Trundeson,' Danske Viser, 200 (translated by Prior, 100); Afzelius, II, 86, from the Danish; Arwidsson, 36. The resemblance is close to 'Ingelilles Bryllup,' #C#, Grundtvig, 276. See also, further on, 'The Twa Knights.'

The Billie Blin presents himself in at least four Scottish ballads: 'Gil Brenton,' #C#; 'Willie's Lady;' one version of 'Young Beichan;' two of 'The Knight and Shepherd's Daughter;' and also in the English ballad of 'King Arthur and the King of Cornwall,' here under the slightly disfigured name of Burlow Beanie.[99] In all he is a serviceable household demon; of a decidedly benignant disposition in the first four, and, though a loathly fiend with seven heads in the last, very obedient and useful when once thoroughly subdued. He is clearly of the same nature as the Dutch _belewitte_ and German _bilwiz_, characterized by Grimm as a friendly domestic genius, _penas_, _guote holde_; and the names are actually associated in a passage cited by Grimm from Voet: "De illis quos nostrates appellant _beeldwit et blinde belien_, a quibus nocturna visa videri atque ex iis arcana revelari putant."[100] Though the etymology of these words is not unencumbered with difficulty, _bil_ seems to point to a just and kindly-tempered being. Bilvís, in the seventh book of Saxo Grammaticus, is an aged counsellor whose bent is to make peace, while his brother Bölvís, a blind man, is a strife-breeder and mischief-maker.[101] The same opposition of Bil and Böl apparently occurs in the Edda, Grímnismál, 47^4, where Bil-eygr and Böl-eygr (Bal-eygr) are appellatives of Odin, which may signify mild-eyed and evil-eyed. Bölvís is found again in the Hrômund's saga, under the description of 'Blind the Bad,' and 'the Carl Blind whose name was Bavís.' But much of this saga is taken from the story of Helgi Hundingslayer; and Blind the Bad in the saga is only Sæmund's Blindr inn bölvísi,--the blind man whose baleful wit sees through the disguise of Helgi, and all but betrays the rash hero to his enemies; that is, Odin in his malicious mood (Bölverkr), who will presently be seen in the ballad of 'Earl Brand' masking as Old Carl Hood, "aye for ill and never for good." Originally and properly, perhaps, only the bad member of this mythical pair is blind; but it would not be at all strange that later tradition, which confuses and degrades so much in the old mythology, should transfer blindness to the good-natured one, and give rise to the anomalous Billie Blind. See Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, 1879, I, 391 ff; Uhland, Zur Geschichte der Dichtung u. Sage, III, 132 ff, VII, 229; Schmeller, Bayerisches Wörterbuch, II, 1037 ff, ed. 1877; Van den Bergh, Woordenboek der nederlandsche Mythologie, 12.

It has been suggested to me that "the Haleigh throw" in #E# 6 is a corruption of the High Leith Row, a street in Edinburgh. I have not as yet been able to obtain information of such a street.

#D# is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, No 40, p. 262.

A

#a.# Jamieson-Brown MS., No 16, fol. 34. #b.# William Tytler's Brown MS., No 3. From the recitation of Mrs Brown of Falkland, 1783, Aberdeenshire.

1 Gil Brenton has sent oer the fame, He's woo'd a wife an brought her hame.

2 Full sevenscore o ships came her wi, The lady by the greenwood tree.

3 There was twal an twal wi beer an wine, An twal an twal wi muskadine:

4 An twall an twall wi bouted flowr, An twall an twall wi paramour:

5 An twall an twall wi baken bread, An twall an twall wi the goud sae red.

6 Sweet Willy was a widow's son, An at her stirrup-foot he did run.

7 An she was dressd i the finest pa, But ay she loot the tears down fa.

8 An she was deckd wi the fairest flowrs, But ay she loot the tears down pour.

9 'O is there water i your shee? Or does the win blaw i your glee?

10 'Or are you mourning i your meed That eer you left your mither gueede?

11 'Or are ye mourning i your tide That ever ye was Gil Brenton's bride?'

12 'The[re] is nae water i my shee, Nor does the win blaw i my glee:

13 'Nor am I mourning i my tide That eer I was Gil Brenton's bride:

14 'But I am mourning i my meed That ever I left my mither gueede.

15 'But, bonny boy, tell to me What is the customs o your country.'

16 'The customs o't, my dame,' he says, 'Will ill a gentle lady please.

17 'Seven king's daughters has our king wedded, An seven king's daughters has our king bedded.

18 'But he's cutted the paps frae their breast-bane, An sent them mourning hame again.

19 'But whan you come to the palace yate, His mither a golden chair will set.

20 'An be you maid or be you nane, O sit you there till the day be dane.

21 'An gin you're sure that you are a maid, Ye may gang safely to his bed.

22 'But gin o that you be na sure, Then hire some woman o youre bowr.'

23 O whan she came to the palace yate, His mither a golden chair did set.

24 An was she maid or was she nane, She sat in it till the day was dane.

25 An she's calld on her bowr woman, That waiting was her bowr within.

26 'Five hundred pound, maid, I'll gi to the, An sleep this night wi the king for me.'

27 Whan bells was rung, an mass was sung, An a' man unto bed was gone,

28 Gil Brenton an the bonny maid Intill ae chamber they were laid.

29 'O speak to me, blankets, an speak to me, sheets, An speak to me, cods, that under me sleeps;

30 'Is this a maid that I ha wedded? Is this a maid that I ha bedded?'

31 'It's nae a maid that you ha wedded, But it's a maid that you ha bedded.

32 'Your lady's in her bigly bowr, An for you she drees mony sharp showr.'

33 O he has taen him thro the ha, And on his mither he did ca.

34 'I am the most unhappy man That ever was in christend lan.

35 'I woo'd a maiden meek an mild, An I've marryed a woman great wi child.'

36 'O stay, my son, intill this ha, An sport you wi your merry men a'.

37 'An I'll gang to yon painted bowr, An see how't fares wi yon base whore.'

38 The auld queen she was stark an strang; She gard the door flee aff the ban.

39 The auld queen she was stark an steer; She gard the door lye i the fleer.

40 'O is your bairn to laird or loon? Or is it to your father's groom?'

41 'My bairn's na to laird or loon, Nor is it to my father's groom.

42 'But hear me, mither, on my knee, An my hard wierd I'll tell to thee.

43 'O we were sisters, sisters seven, We was the fairest under heaven.

44 'We had nae mair for our seven years wark But to shape an suc the king's son a sark.

45 'O it fell on a Saturday's afternoon, Whan a' our langsome wark was dane,

46 'We keist the cavils us amang, To see which shoud to the greenwood gang.

47 'Ohone, alas! for I was youngest, An ay my wierd it was the hardest.

48 'The cavil it did on me fa, Which was the cause of a' my wae.

49 'For to the greenwood I must gae, To pu the nut but an the slae;

50 'To pu the red rose an the thyme, To strew my mother's bowr and mine.

51 'I had na pu'd a flowr but ane, Till by there came a jelly hind greeme,

52 'Wi high-colld hose an laigh-colld shoone, An he 'peard to be some kingis son.

53 'An be I maid or be I nane, He kept me there till the day was dane.

54 'An be I maid or be I nae, He kept me there till the close of day.

55 'He gae me a lock of yallow hair, An bade me keep it for ever mair.

56 'He gae me a carket o gude black beads, An bade me keep them against my needs.

57 'He gae to me a gay gold ring, An bade me ke[e]p it aboon a' thing.

58 'He gae to me a little pen-kniffe, An bade me keep it as my life.'

59 'What did you wi these tokens rare That ye got frae that young man there?'

60 'O bring that coffer hear to me, And a' the tokens ye sal see.'

61 An ay she ranked, an ay she flang, Till a' the tokens came till her han.

62 'O stay here, daughter, your bowr within, Till I gae parley wi my son.'

63 O she has taen her thro the ha, An on her son began to ca.

64 'What did you wi that gay gold ring I bade you keep aboon a' thing?

65 'What did you wi that little pen-kniffe I bade you keep while you had life?

66 'What did you wi that yallow hair I bade you keep for ever mair?

67 'What did you wi that good black beeds I bade you keep against your needs?'

68 'I gae them to a lady gay I met i the greenwood on a day.

69 'An I would gi a' my father's lan, I had that lady my yates within.

70 'I would gi a' my ha's an towrs, I had that bright burd i my bowrs.'

71 'O son, keep still your father's lan; You hae that lady your yates within.

72 'An keep you still your ha's an towrs; You hae that bright burd i your bowrs.'

73 Now or a month was come an gone, This lady bare a bonny young son.

74 An it was well written on his breast-bane 'Gil Brenton is my father's name.'

B

Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 117, ed. 1802. Ed. 1830, III, 263. Partly from the recitation of Miss Christian Rutherford.

1 Cospatrick has sent oer the faem, Cospatrick brought his ladye hame.

2 And fourscore ships have come her wi, The ladye by the grenewood tree.

3 There were twal and twal wi baken bread, And twal and twal wi gowd sae reid:

4 And twal and twal wi bouted flour, And twal and twal wi the paramour.

5 Sweet Willy was a widow's son, And at her stirrup he did run.

6 And she was clad in the finest pall, But aye she let the tears down fall.

7 'O is your saddle set awrye? Or rides your steed for you owre high?

8 'Or are you mourning in your tide That you suld be Cospatrick's bride?'

9 'I am not mourning at this tide That I suld be Cospatrick's bride;

10 'But I am sorrowing in my mood That I suld leave my mother good.

11 'But, gentle boy, come tell to me, What is the custom of thy countrye?'

12 'The custom thereof, my dame,' he says, 'Will ill a gentle laydye please.

13 'Seven king's daughters has our lord wedded, And seven king's daughters has our lord bedded;

14 'But he's cutted their breasts frae their breast bane, And sent them mourning hame again.

15 'Yet, gin you're sure that you're a maid, Ye may gae safely to his bed;

16 'But gif o that ye be na sure, Then hire some damsell o your bour.'

17 The ladye's calld her bour-maiden, That waiting was into her train;

18 'Five thousand merks I will gie thee, To sleep this night with my lord for me.'

19 When bells were rung, and mass was sayne, And a' men unto bed were gane,

20 Cospatrick and the bonny maid, Into ae chamber they were laid.

21 'Now, speak to me, blankets, and speak to me, bed, And speak, thou sheet, inchanted web;

22 'And speak up, my bonny brown sword, that winna lie, Is this a true maiden that lies by me?'

23 'It is not a maid that you hae wedded, But it is a maid that you hae bedded.

24 'It is a liel maiden that lies by thee, But not the maiden that it should be.'

25 O wrathfully he left the bed, And wrathfully his claiths on did.

26 And he has taen him thro the ha, And on his mother he did ca.

27 'I am the most unhappy man That ever was in christen land!

28 'I courted a maiden meik and mild, And I hae gotten naething but a woman wi child.'

29 'O stay, my son, into this ha, And sport ye wi your merrymen a';

30 'And I will to the secret bour, To see how it fares wi your paramour.'

31 The carline she was stark and sture; She aff the hinges dang the dure.

32 'O is your bairn to laird or loun? Or is it to your father's groom?'

33 'O hear me, mother, on my knee, Till my sad story I tell to thee.

34 'O we were sisters, sisters seven, We were the fairest under heaven.

35 'It fell on a summer's afternoon, When a' our toilsome task was done,

36 'We cast the kavils us amang, To see which suld to the grene-wood gang.

37 'O hon, alas! for I was youngest, And aye my wierd it was the hardest.

38 'The kavil it on me did fa, Whilk was the cause of a' my woe.

39 'For to the grene-wood I maun gae, To pu the red rose and the slae;

40 'To pu the red rose and the thyme, To deck my mother's bour and mine.

41 'I hadna pu'd a flower but ane, When by there came a gallant hende,

42 'Wi high-colld hose and laigh-colld shoon, And he seemd to be sum king's son.

43 'And be I maid or be I nae, He kept me there till the close o day.

44 'And be I maid or be I nane, He kept me there till the day was done.

45 'He gae me a lock o his yellow hair, And bade me keep it ever mair.

46 'He gae me a carknet o bonny beads, And bade me keep it against my needs.

47 'He gae to me a gay gold ring, And bade me keep it abune a' thing.'

48 'What did ye wi the tokens rare That ye gat frae that gallant there?'

49 'O bring that coffer unto me, And a' the tokens ye sall see.'

50 'Now stay, daughter, your bour within, While I gae parley wi my son.'

51 O she has taen her thro the ha, And on her son began to ca.

52 'What did you wi the bonny beads I bade ye keep against your needs?

53 'What did you wi the gay gowd ring I bade ye keep abune a' thing?'

54 'I gae them a' to a ladye gay I met in grene-wood on a day.

55 'But I wad gie a' my halls and tours, I had that ladye within my bours.

56 'But I wad gie my very life, I had that ladye to my wife.'

57 'Now keep, my son, your ha's and tours; Ye have that bright burd in your bours.

58 'And keep, my son, your very life; Ye have that ladye to your wife.'

59 Now or a month was cum and gane, The ladye bore a bonny son.

60 And 't was weel written on his breast-bane, 'Cospatrick is my father's name.'

61 'O rowe my ladye in satin and silk, And wash my son in the morning milk.'

C

Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, p. 207. "From the recital of a peasant-woman of Galloway, upwards of ninety years of age."

1 We were sisters, we were seven, We were the fairest under heaven.

2 And it was a' our seven years wark To sew our father's seven sarks.

3 And whan our seven years wark was done, We laid it out upo the green.

4 We coost the lotties us amang, Wha wad to the greenwood gang,

5 To pu the lily but and the rose, To strew witha' our sisters' bowers.

6 ... I was youngest, ... my weer was hardest.

7 And to the greenwood I bud gae, . . . . . . .

8 There I met a handsome childe, . . . . . . .

9 High-coled stockings and laigh-coled shoon, He bore him like a king's son.

10 An was I weel, or was I wae, He keepit me a' the simmer day.

11 An though I for my hame-gaun sich[t], He keepit me a' the simmer night.

12 He gae to me a gay gold ring, And bade me keep it aboon a' thing.

13 He gae to me a cuttie knife, And bade me keep it as my life:

14 Three lauchters o his yellow hair, For fear we wad neer meet mair.

* * * * * * *

15 Next there came shippes three, To carry a' my bridal fee.

16 Gowd were the beaks, the sails were silk, Wrought wi maids' hands like milk.

17 They came toom and light to me, But heavie went they waie frae me.

18 They were fu o baken bread, They were fu of wine sae red.

19 My dowry went a' by the sea, But I gaed by the grenewode tree.

20 An I sighed and made great mane, As thro the grenewode we rade our lane.

21 An I ay siched an wiped my ee, That eer the grenewode I did see.

22 'Is there water in your glove, Or win into your shoe? O[r] am I oer low a foot-page To rin by you, ladie?'

23 'O there's nae water in my glove, Nor win into my shoe; But I am maning for my mither Wha's far awa frae me.'

* * * * * * *

24 'Gin ye be a maiden fair, Meikle gude ye will get there.

25 'If ye be a maiden but, Meikle sorrow will ye get.

26 'For seven king's daughters he hath wedded, But never wi ane o them has bedded.

27 'He cuts the breasts frae their breast-bane, An sends them back unto their dame.

28 'He sets their backs unto the saddle, An sends them back unto their father.

29 'But be ye maiden or be ye nane, To the gowden chair ye draw right soon.

30 'But be ye leman or be ye maiden, Sit nae down till ye be bidden.'

31 Was she maiden or was she nane, To the gowden chair she drew right soon.

32 Was she leman or was she maiden, She sat down ere she was bidden.

33 Out then spake the lord's mother; Says, 'This is not a maiden fair.

34 'In that chair nae leal maiden Eer sits down till they be bidden.'

35 The Billie Blin then outspake he, As he stood by the fair ladie.

36 'The bonnie may is tired wi riding, Gaurd her sit down ere she was bidden.'

* * * * * * *

37 But on her waiting-maid she ca'd: 'Fair ladie, what 's your will wi me?' 'O ye maun gie yere maidenheid This night to an unco lord for me.'

38 'I hae been east, I hae been west, I hae been far beyond the sea, But ay, by grenewode or by bower, I hae keepit my virginitie.

39 'But will it for my ladie plead, I'll gie 't this night to an unco lord.'

* * * * * * *

40 When bells were rung an vespers sung, An men in sleep were locked soun,

41 Childe Branton and the waiting-maid Into the bridal bed were laid.

42 'O lie thee down, my fair ladie, Here are a' things meet for thee;

43 'Here's a bolster for yere head, Here is sheets an comelie weids.'

* * * * * * *

44 'Now tell to me, ye Billie Blin, If this fair dame be a leal maiden.'

45 'I wat she is as leal a wight As the moon shines on in a simmer night.

46 'I wat she is as leal a may As the sun shines on in a simmer day.

47 'But your bonnie bride's in her bower, Dreeing the mither's trying hour.'

48 Then out o his bridal bed he sprang, An into his mither's bower he ran.

49 'O mither kind, O mither dear, This is nae a maiden fair.

50 'The maiden I took to my bride Has a bairn atween her sides.

51 'The maiden I took to my bower Is dreeing the mither's trying hour.'

52 Then to the chamber his mother flew, And to the wa the door she threw.

53 She stapt at neither bolt nor ban, Till to that ladie's bed she wan.

54 Says, 'Ladie fair, sae meek an mild, Wha is the father o yere child?'

55 'O mither dear,' said that ladie, 'I canna tell gif I sud die.

56 'We were sisters, we were seven, We were the fairest under heaven.

57 'And it was a' our seven years wark To sew our father's seven sarks.

58 'And whan our seven years wark was done, We laid it out upon the green.

59 'We coost the lotties us amang, Wha wad to the greenwode gang;

60 'To pu the lily but an the rose, To strew witha' our sisters' bowers.

61 ..... 'I was youngest, ..... my weer was hardest.

62 'And to the greenwode I bu[d] gae. . . . . . . .

63 'There I met a handsome childe, . . . . . . .

64 'Wi laigh-coled stockings and high-coled shoon, He seemed to be some king's son.

65 'And was I weel or was I wae, He keepit me a' the simmer day.

66 'Though for my hame-gaun I oft sicht, He keepit me a' the simmer night.

67 'He gae to me a gay gold ring, An bade me keep it aboon a' thing;

68 'Three lauchters o his yellow hair, For fear that we suld neer meet mair.

69 'O mither, if ye'll believe nae me, Break up the coffer, an there ye'll see.'

70 An ay she coost, an ay she flang, Till her ain gowd ring came in her hand.

71 And scarce aught i the coffer she left, Till she gat the knife wi the siller heft,

72 Three lauchters o his yellow hair, Knotted wi ribbons dink and rare.

73 She cried to her son, 'Where is the ring Your father gave me at our wooing, An I gae you at your hunting?

74 'What did ye wi the cuttie knife, I bade ye keep it as yere life?'

75 'O haud yere tongue, my mither dear; I gae them to a lady fair.

76 'I wad gie a' my lands and rents, I had that ladie within my brents.

77 'I wad gie a' my lands an towers, I had that ladie within my bowers.'

78 'Keep still yere lands, keep still yere rents; Ye hae that ladie within yere brents.

79 'Keep still yere lands, keep still yere towers; Ye hae that lady within your bowers.'

80 Then to his ladie fast ran he, An low he kneeled on his knee.

81 'O tauk ye up my son,' said he, 'An, mither, tent my fair ladie.

82 'O wash him purely i the milk, And lay him saftly in the silk.

83 'An ye maun bed her very soft, For I maun kiss her wondrous oft.'

84 It was weel written on his breast-bane Childe Branton was the father's name.

85 It was weel written on his right hand He was the heir o his daddie's land.

D

Buchan's Ancient Ballads and Songs of the North of Scotland, I, 204.

1 We were sisters, sisters seven, Bowing down, bowing down The fairest women under heaven. And aye the birks a-bowing

2 They kiest kevels them amang, Wha woud to the grenewood gang.

3 The kevels they gied thro the ha, And on the youngest it did fa.

4 Now she must to the grenewood gang, To pu the nuts in grenewood hang.

5 She hadna tarried an hour but ane Till she met wi a highlan groom.

6 He keeped her sae late and lang Till the evening set and birds they sang.

7 He gae to her at their parting A chain o gold and gay gold ring;

8 And three locks o his yellow hair; Bade her keep them for evermair.

9 When six lang months were come and gane, A courtier to this lady came.

10 Lord Dingwall courted this lady gay, And so he set their wedding-day.

11 A little boy to the ha was sent, To bring her horse was his intent.

12 As she was riding the way along, She began to make a heavy moan.

13 'What ails you, lady,' the boy said, 'That ye seem sae dissatisfied?

14 'Are the bridle reins for you too strong? Or the stirrups for you too long?'

15 'But, little boy, will ye tell me The fashions that are in your countrie?'

16 'The fashions in our ha I'll tell, And o them a' I'll warn you well.

17 'When ye come in upon the floor, His mither will meet you wi a golden chair.

18 'But be ye maid or be ye nane, Unto the high seat make ye boun.

19 'Lord Dingwall aft has been beguild By girls whom young men hae defiled.

20 'He's cutted the paps frae their breast-bane, And sent them back to their ain hame.'

21 When she came in upon the floor, His mother met her wi a golden chair.

22 But to the high seat she made her boun: She knew that maiden she was nane.

23 When night was come, they went to bed, And ower her breast his arm he laid.

24 He quickly jumped upon the floor, And said, 'I've got a vile rank whore.'

25 Unto his mother he made his moan, Says, 'Mother dear, I am undone.

26 'Ye've aft tald, when I brought them hame, Whether they were maid or nane.

27 'I thought I'd gotten a maiden bright; I've gotten but a waefu wight.

28 'I thought I'd gotten a maiden clear, But gotten but a vile rank whore.'

29 'When she came in upon the floor, I met her wi a golden chair.

30 'But to the high seat she made her boun, Because a maiden she was nane.'

31 'I wonder wha 's tauld that gay ladie The fashion into our countrie.'

32 'It is your little boy I blame, Whom ye did send to bring her hame.'

33 Then to the lady she did go, And said, 'O Lady, let me know

34 'Who has defiled your fair bodie: Ye're the first that has beguiled me.'

35 'O we were sisters, sisters seven, The fairest women under heaven.

36 'And we kiest kevels us amang, Wha woud to the grenewood gang;

37 'For to pu the finest flowers, To put around our summer bowers.

38 'I was the youngest o them a'; The hardest fortune did me befa.

39 'Unto the grenewood I did gang, And pu'd the nuts as they down hang.

40 'I hadna stayd an hour but ane Till I met wi a highlan groom.

41 'He keeped me sae late and lang Till the evening set and birds they sang.

42 'He gae to me at our parting A chain of gold and gay gold ring;

43 'And three locks o his yellow hair; Bade me keep them for evermair.

44 'Then for to show I make nae lie, Look ye my trunk, and ye will see.'

45 Unto the trunk then she did go, To see if that were true or no.

46 And aye she sought, and aye she flang, Till these four things came to her hand.

47 Then she did to her ain son go, And said, 'My son, ye'll let me know,

48 'Ye will tell to me this thing: What did you wi my wedding-ring?'

49 'Mother dear, I'll tell nae lie: I gave it to a gay ladie.

50 'I would gie a' my ha's and towers, I had this bird within my bowers.'

51 'Keep well, keep well your lands and strands; Ye hae that bird within your hands.

52 'Now, my son, to your bower ye'll go: Comfort your ladie, she's full o woe.'

53 Now when nine months were come and gane, The lady she brought hame a son.

54 It was written on his breast-bane Lord Dingwall was his father's name.

55 He's taen his young son in his arms, And aye he praisd his lovely charms.

56 And he has gien him kisses three, And doubled them ower to his ladie.

E

Elizabeth Cochrane's Song-Book, p. 146, No 112.

1 Lord Benwall he's a hunting gone; Hey down, etc. He's taken with him all his merry men. Hey, etc.

2 As he was walking late alone, He spyed a lady both brisk and young.

3 He keeped her so long and long, From the evening late till the morning came.

4 All that he gave her at their parting Was a pair of gloves and a gay gold ring.

5 Lord Benwall he's a wooing gone, And he's taken with him all his merry men.

6 As he was walking the Haleigh throw, He spy'd seven ladyes all in a row.

7 He cast a lot among them all; Upon the youngest the lot did fall.

8 He wedded her and brought her home, And by the way she made great moan.

9 'What aileth my dearest and dayly flower? What ails my dear, to make such moan?

10 'Does the steed carry you too high? Or does thy pillow sit awry?

11 'Or does the wind blow in thy glove? Or is thy heart after another love?'

12 'The steed does not carry me too high, Nor does my pillow sit awry.

13 'Nor does the wind blow in my glove, Nor is my heart after another love.'

14 When they were doun to supper set, The weary pain took her by the back.

15 'What ails my dearest and dayly flower? What ails my dearest, to make such moan?'

16 'I am with child, and it's not to thee, And oh and alas, what shall I doe!'

17 'I thought I had got a maid so mild; But I have got a woman big with child.

18 'I thought I had got a dayly flower; I have gotten but a common whore.'

* * * * * * *

19 'Rise up, Lord Benwall, go to your hall, And cherrish up your merry men all.'

* * * * * * *

20 'As I was walking once late alone, I spy'd a lord, both brisk and young.

21 'He keeped me so long and long, From the evening late till the morning came.

22 'All that he gave me at our parting Was a pair of gloves and a gay gold ring.

23 'If you will not believe what I tell to thee, There's the key of my coffer, you may go and see.'

24 His mother went, and threw and flang, Till to her hand the ring it came.

25 'Lord Benwall, wilt thou tell to me Where is the ring I gave to thee?'

26 'Now I would give all my lands and tower, To have that lady in my bower.

27 'I would give all my lands and rents, To have that lady in my tents.'

28 'You need not give all your lands and tower, For you have that lady in your power.

29 'You need not give all your lands and rents, For you have that lady in your tents.'

30 Now it was written on the child's breast-bone Lord Benwall's sirname and his name.

31 It was written on the child's right hand That he should be heir of Lord Benwall's land.

32 'Canst cloath my lady in the silk, And feed my young son with the milk.'

F

#a.# Motherwell's MS., p 219. From the recitation of Mrs Thomson, February, 1825. #b.# Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xvi, the first stanza only.

1 There were three sisters in a bouir, Eh down and Oh down And the youngest o them was the fairest flour. Eh down and O down

2 And we began our seven years wark, To sew our brither John a sark.

3 When seven years was come and gane, There was nae a sleeve in it but ane.

4 But we coost kevils us amang Wha wud to the green-wood gang.

5 But tho we had coosten neer sae lang, The lot it fell on me aye to gang.

6 I was the youngest, and I was the fairest, And alace! my wierd it was aye the sairest.

7 . . . . . . . Till I had to the woods to gae.

8 To pull the cherrie and the slae, And to seek our ae brither, we had nae mae.

9 But as I was walking the leas o Lyne, I met a youth gallant and fine;

10 Wi milk white stockings and coal black shoon; He seemed to be some gay lord's son.

11 But he keepit me there sae lang, sae lang, Till the maids in the morning were singing their sang.

12 Would I wee or would I way, He keepit me the lang simmer day.

13 Would I way or would I wight, He keepit me the simmer night.

14 But guess what was at our parting? A pair o grass green gloves and a gay gold ring.

15 He gave me three plaits o his yellow hair, In token that we might meet mair.

16 But when nine months were come and gane, This gallant lord cam back again.

17 He's wed this lady, and taen her wi him; But as they were riding the leas o Lyne,

18 This lady was not able to ride, . . . . . . .

19 'O does thy saddle set thee aside? Or does thy steed ony wrang way ride?

20 'Or thinkst thou me too low a groom? . . . . . . .

21 'Or hast thou musing in thy mind For the leaving of thy mother kind?'

22 'My saddle it sets not me aside, Nor does my steed ony wrang way ride.

23 'Nor think I thee too low a groom . . . . . . .

24 'But I hae musing in my mind For the leaving of my mother kind.'

25 'I'll bring thee to a mother of mine, As good a mother as eer was thine.'

26 'A better mother she may be, But an unco woman she'll prove to me.'

27 But when lords and ladies at supper sat, Her pains they struck her in the back.

28 When lords and ladies were laid in bed, Her pains they struck her in the side.

29 'Rise up, rise up, now, Lord Brangwill, For I'm wi child and you do not know't.'

30 He took up his foot and gave her sic a bang Till owre the bed the red blood sprang.

31 He is up to his mother's ha, Calling her as hard as he could ca.

32 'I went through moss and I went through mure, Thinking to get some lily flouir.

33 . . . . . . . 'But to my house I have brocht a hure.

34 'I thocht to have got a lady baith meek and mild, But I've got a woman that's big wi child.'

35 'O rest you here, Lord Brangwill,' she said, 'Till I relieve your lady that lyes so low.'

36 'O daughter dear, will you tell to me Who is the father of your babie?'

37 'Yes, mother dear, I will tell thee Who is the father of my babie.

38 'As I was walking the leas o Lyne, I met a youth gallant and fine;

39 'With milk-white stockings and coal-black shoon; He seemd to be sum gay lord's son.

40 'He keepit me sae lang, sae lang, Till the maids in the morning were singing their sang.

41 'Would I wee or would I way, He keepit me the lang simmer day.

42 'Would I way or would I wight, He keepit me the simmer night.

43 'But guess ye what was at our parting? A pair of grass green gloves and a gay gold ring.

44 'He gave me three plaits o his yellow hair, In token that we might meet mair.'

45 'O dochter dear, will ye show me These tokens that he gave to thee?'

46 'Altho my back should break in three, Unto my coffer I must be.'

47 'Thy back it shall not break in three, For I'll bring thy coffer to thy knee.'

48 Aye she coost, and aye she flang, Till these three tokens came to her hand.

49 Then she is up to her son's ha, Calling him hard as she could ca.

50 'O son, O son, will you tell me . . . . . . .

51 'What ye did wi the grass green gloves and gay gold ring That ye gat at your own birth-een?'

52 'I gave them to as pretty a may As ever I saw in a simmer day.

53 'I wud rather than a' my lands sae broad That I had her as sure as eer I had.

54 'I would rather than a' my lands sae free I had her here this night wi me.'

55 'I wish you good o your lands sae broad, For ye have her as sure as eer ye had.

56 'I wish ye good o your lands sae free, For ye have her here this night wi thee.'

57 'Gar wash my auld son in the milk, Gar deck my lady's bed wi silk.'

58 He gave his auld son kisses three, But he doubled them a' to his gay ladye.

G

Herd's Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 244; ed. 1776, I, 83.

1 As Bothwell was walking in the lowlands alane, Hey down and a down He met six ladies sae gallant and fine. Hey down and a down

2 He cast his lot amang them a', And on the youngest his lot did fa.

3 He's brought her frae her mother's bower, Unto his strongest castle and tower.

4 But ay she cried and made great moan, And ay the tear came trickling down.

5 'Come up, come up,' said the foremost man, 'I think our bride comes slowly on.'

6 'O lady, sits your saddle awry, Or is your steed for you owre high?'

7 'My saddle is not set awry, Nor carries me my steed owre high;

8 'But I am weary of my life, Since I maun be Lord Bothwell's wife.'

9 He's blawn his horn sae sharp and shrill, Up start the deer on evry hill.

10 He's blawn his horn sae lang and loud, Up start the deer in gude green-wood.

11 His lady mother lookit owre the castle wa, And she saw them riding ane and a'.

12 She's calld upon her maids by seven, To mak his bed baith saft and even.

13 She's calld upon her cooks by nine, To make their dinner fair and fine.

14 When day was gane, and night was come, 'What ails my love on me to frown?

15 'Or does the wind blow in your glove? Or runs your mind on another love?'

16 'Nor blows the wind within my glove, Nor runs my mind on another love;

17 'But I nor maid nor maiden am, For I'm wi bairn to another man.'

18 'I thought I'd a maiden sae meek and sae mild, But I've nought but a woman wi child.'

19 His mother's taen her up to a tower, And lockit her in her secret bower.

20 'Now, doughter mine, come tell to me, Wha's bairn this is that you are wi.'

21 'O mother dear, I canna learn Wha is the faither of my bairn.

22 'But as I walkd in the lowlands my lane, I met a gentleman gallant and fine.

23 'He keepit me there sae late and sae lang, Frae the evning late till the morning dawn.

24 'And a' that he gied me to my propine Was a pair of green gloves and a gay gold ring;

25 'Three lauchters of his yellow hair, In case that we shoud meet nae mair.'

26 His lady mother went down the stair: . . . . . . .

27 'Now son, now son, come tell to me, Where's the green gloves I gave to thee?'

28 'I gied to a lady sae fair and so fine The green gloves and a gay gold ring.

29 'But I wad gie my castles and towers, I had that lady within my bowers.

30 'But I wad gie my very life, I had that lady to be my wife.'

31 'Now keep, now keep your castles and towers, You have that lady within your bowers.

32 'Now keep, now keep your very life, You have that lady to be your wife.'

33 'O row my lady in sattin and silk, And wash my son in the morning milk.'

H

Kinloch MSS, V, 335, in the handwriting of Dr John Hill Burton.

1 We were seven sisters in a bower, Adown adown, and adown and adown The flower of a' fair Scotland ower. Adown adown, and adown and adown

2 We were sisters, sisters seven, The fairest women under heaven.

3 There fell a dispute us amang, Wha would to the greenwood gang.

4 They kiest the kevels them amang, O wha would to the greenwood gang.

5 The kevels they gied thro the ha, And on the youngest it did fa.

6 The kevel fell into her hand, To greenwood she was forced to gang.

7 She hedna pued a flower but ane, When by there came an earl's son.

8 'And was he well or was he wae, He keepet me that summer's day.'

9 And was he weel or was he weight, He keepet her that summer's night.

10 And he gave her a gay goud ring His mother got at her wedding.

* * * * * * *

11 'Oh is yer stirrup set too high? Or is your saddle set awry?

12 'Oh is yer stirrup set too side? Or what's the reason ye canna ride?'

* * * * * * *

13 When all were at the table set, Then not a bit could this lady eat.

14 When all made merry at the feast, This lady wished she were at her rest.

* * * * * * *

* * * * *

#A. a.#

_In the MS. two lines are written continuously, and two of these double lines numbered as one stanza._

19^1, 23^1, 69^2, 71^2, _perhaps ~gate~, ~gates~ in MS._

54^1, _MS._ be a nae.

56.^1 _~casket~ in MS.?_

#b. 1.#

Chil Brenton has sent oer the faem, Chil Brenton's brought his lady hame.

#B.#

_Printed by Scott in four-line stanzas. 7, 55, 56, 58, 61, seem to be the stanzas transferred from Herd, but only the last without change._

#C.#

_The stanzas are not divided in Cromek. Between 14 and 15 the following nineteen couplets have been omitted._

First blew the sweet, the simmer wind, Then autumn wi her breath sae kind, Before that eer the guid knight came The tokens of his luve to claim. Then fell the brown an yellow leaf Afore the knight o luve shawed prief; Three morns the winter's rime did fa, When loud at our yett my luve did ca. 'Ye hae daughters, ye hae seven, Ye hae the fairest under heaven. I am the lord o lands wide, Ane o them maun be my bride. I am lord of a baronie, Ane o them maun lie wi me. O cherry lips are sweet to pree, A rosie cheek's meet for the ee; Lang brown locks a heart can bind, Bonny black een in luve are kind; Sma white arms for clasping's meet, Whan laid atween the bridal-sheets; A kindlie heart is best of a', An debonnairest in the ha. Ane by ane thae things are sweet, Ane by ane in luve they're meet; But when they a' in ae maid bide, She is fittest for a bride. Sae be it weel or be it wae, The youngest maun be my ladie; Sae be it gude, sae be it meet, She maun warm my bridal-sheet.

Little kend he, whan aff he rode, I was his tokend luve in the wood; Or when he gied me the wedding-token, He was sealing the vows he thought were broken. First came a page on a milk-white steed, Wi golden trappings on his head: A' gowden was the saddle lap, And gowden was the page's cap.

_15-21 have been allowed to stand principally on account of 18._

_There is small risk in pronouncing 24, 25, 42, 43, 80, 81 spurious, and Cunningham surpasses his usual mawkishness in 83._

#E#

_is written in four-line stanzas_.

19. mother, _in the margin_.

20. lady, _in the margin_.

#F. a.#

7^2. _MS_. Till [Still?].

_7^2 and 8, 17 and 18^1, 20^1 and 21, 23^1 and 24, 32 and 33^2, 50^1 and 51, are respectively written as a stanza in the MS._

12^1, 41^1. _Motherwell conjectures_

Would I wait, or would I away.

13^1, 42^1. _Motherwell conjectures_

Would I away, or would I wait.

14^2, 43^2. _MS. ~green sleeves~: but see 51^1, and also #E# 22^1, #G# 24^2, 28^2._

29^2, _above you do not know't is written know ~not who till~, apparently a conjecture of Motherwell's._

30^2, _sometimes recited_

Till owre the bed this lady he flang.

53^1. _MS._ abroad.

#b.1.#

Seven ladies livd in a bower, Hey down and ho down And aye the youngest was the flower. Hey down and ho down

#G.#

_The stanzas are not divided in Herd._

#H.#

_4 is crossed through in the MS., but no reason given._

[94] In his note-book, p. 117, Motherwell writes, with less than his usual discretion: "The ballad of Bothwell, Cospatric, or Gil Brenton, appears to be copied from an account of the birth of Makbeth given by Wintown." The substance of this account is, that Macbeth's mother had a habit of repairing to the woods for wholesome air, and that, during one of her rambles, she fell in with a fair man, really the Devil, who passed the day with her, and got on her a son.

"And of that dede in taknyng He gave his lemman thare a ryng, And bad hyr that scho suld kepe that wele, And hald for hys luve that jwele."

_Cronykil_,