Part 3

, p. 60 f, note. Other forms of the same story in Afzelius, Sago-Häfder, III, 100 f; Faye, Norske Folke-Sagn, p. 14, 2d ed.; Hofberg, Nerikes Gamla Minnen, p. 234.)

It is a Norwegian belief that when a nix assumes the human shape in order to carry some one off, it will be his death if the selected victim recognizes him and names him, and in this way a woman escaped in a ballad. She called out, So you are the Nix, that pestilent beast, and the nix "disappeared in red blood." (Faye, as above, p. 49, note.) A nix is baffled in the same way in a Færoe and an Icelandic ballad cited by Grundtvig, II, 57.

The marvellous horse Blak agrees to carry Waldemar [Hildebrand] over a great piece of water for the rescue of his daughter [sister], stipulating, however, that his name shall not be uttered. The rider forgets himself in a panic, calls to the horse by his name, and is thrown off into the water. The horse, whose powers had been supernatural, and who had been _running_ over the water as if it were land, has now only ordinary strength, and is forced to swim. He brings the lady back on the same terms, which she keeps, but when he reaches the land he is bleeding at every hair, and falls dead. (Landstad, 58; Grundtvig, 62; Afzelius, 59, preface; Kristensen, I, No 66.)

Klaufi, a berserker, while under the operation of his peculiar fury, loses his strength, and can no longer wield the weapon he was fighting with, upon Gríss's crying out, "Klaufi, Klaufi, be not so mad!" (Svarfdæla Saga, p. 147, and again p. 156 f.) So the blood-thirst of the avenger's sword in the magnificent Danish ballad 'Hævnersværdet' is restrained by naming. (Grundtvig, No 25, st. 35.) Again, men engaged in _hamfarir_, that is in roving about in the shape of beasts, their proper bodies remaining lifeless the while, must not be called by name, for this might compel them to return at once to their own shape, or possibly prevent their ever doing so. (Kristni Saga, ed. 1773, p. 149. R.T. King, in Notes and Queries, 2d Ser., II, 506.) Grundtvig remarks that this belief is akin to what is related in Fáfnismál (prose interpolation after st. 1), that Sigurd concealed his name by reason of a belief in old times that a dying man's word had great power, if he cursed his foe by name. (D.g.F., II, 340.)

The beautiful fancy of plants springing from the graves of star-crossed lovers, and signifying by the intertwining of stems or leaves, or in other analogous ways, that an earthly passion has not been extinguished by death, presents itself, as is well known, very frequently in popular poetry. Though the graves be made far apart, even on opposite sides of the church, or one to the north and one to the south outside of the church, or one without kirk wall and one in the choir, however separated, the vines or trees seek one another out, and mingle their branches or their foliage:

"Even from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, Even in our ashes live their wonted fires!"

The principal ballads which exhibit this conception in one or another form are the following:

In English, 'The Douglas Tragedy,' 'Fair Margaret and Sweet William,' 'Lord Thomas and Fair Annet,' 'Fair Janet,' 'Prince Robert,' 'Lord Lovel.' The plants in all these are either a brier and a rose, or a brier and a birk.

#Swedish.# Arwidsson, No 73: the graves are made east and west of the church, a linden grows from each, the trees meet over the church roof. So E. Wigström, Folkdiktning, No 20, p. 42. Arwidsson 74 #A#: Rosea Lilla and the duke are buried south and north in the church-yard. A rose from her grave covers his with its leaves. The duke is then laid in her grave, from which a linden springs. 74 #B#: the rose as before, and a linden from the duke's grave. Arwidsson, 72, 68, Afzelius, No 19 (new ed., 18), 23 (new ed., 21, 1, 2): a common grave, with a linden, two trees, or lilies, and, in the last, roses also growing from the mouths of both lovers. In one version the linden leaves bear the inscription, My father shall answer to me at doomsday.

#Norwegian.# Landstad, 65: the lovers are laid north and south of the church; lilies grow over the church roof.

#Danish.# Danske Viser, 124, 153, two roses. Kristensen, II, No 60, two lilies, interlocking over church wall and ridge. 61 #B#, #C# (==Afzelius, 19), separate graves; #B#, a lily from each grave; #C#, a flower from each breast. Grundtvig, 184 #G#, 271 #N#, a linden; Danske Folkeminder, 1861, p. 81, two lilies.

#German.# 'Der Ritter u. die Maid,' (1) Nicolai, I, No 2,==Kretzschmer, I, 54; (2) Uhland, 97 #A#, Simrock, 12; (3) Erk's Liederhort, 26; Hoffmann u. Richter, 4: the lovers are buried together, and there grow from their grave (1) three pinks, (2) three lilies, (3) two lilies. Wunderhorn, 1857, I, 53, Mittler, No 91: the maid is buried in the churchyard, the knight under the gallows. A lily grows from his grave, with an inscription, Beid wären beisammen im Himmel. Ditfurth, II, 7: two lilies spring from her (or their) grave, bearing a similar inscription. In Haupt and Schmaler, Volkslieder der Wenden, I, 136, from the German, rue is _planted_ on the maid's grave, in accordance with the last words of the knight, and the same inscription appears on one of the leaves.

'Graf Friedrich,' Uhland, 122, Wunderhorn, II, 293, Mittler, 108, Erk's Liederhort, 15 #a#: Graf Friedrich's bride is by accident mortally wounded while he is bringing her home. Her father kills him, and he is dragged at a horse's heels. Three lilies spring from his grave, with an inscription, Er wär bei Gott geblieben. He is then buried with his bride, the transfer being attended with other miraculous manifestations. Other versions, Hoffmann u. Richter, 19, ==Mittler, 112, ==Liederhort, 15; Mittler, 113, 114; also Meinert, 23, ==Mittler, 109, etc.: the lilies in most of these growing from the _bride's_ grave, with words attesting the knight's innocence.

Lilies with inscriptions also in Wunderhorn, II, p. 251, ==Mittler, 128, 'Alle bei Gott die sich lieben;' Mittler, 130; Ditfurth, II, 4, 9; Scherer, Jungbrunnen, 9 #A#, 25; Pogatschnigg und Hermann, 1458. Three lilies from a maid's grave: 'Die schwazbraune Hexe' ('Es blies ein Jäger'), Nicolai, I, 8; Wunderhorn, I, 36; Gräter's Bragur, I, 280; Uhland, 103; Liederhort, 9; Simrock, 93; Fiedler, p. 158; Ditfurth, II, 33, 34; Reifferscheid, 15, etc. Three roses, Hoffmann u. Richter, 171, p. 194; three pinks, _ib._, 172; rose, pink, lily, Alemannia, IV, 35. Three lilies from a man's grave: 'Der Todwunde:' Schade, Bergreien, 10, ==Uhland, 93 #A#, ==Liederhort, 34 #g#, ==Mittler, 47, etc.

#Portuguese.# 'Conde Nillo,' 'Conde Niño,' Almeida-Garrett, III, No 18, at p. 21; Braga, Rom. Geral., No 14, at p. 38,==Hartung, I, 17: the infanta is buried at the foot of the high altar, Conde Nillo near the church door; a cypress and an orange [pines]. Almeida-Garrett, III, No 20, at p. 38: a sombre clump of pines over the knight, reeds from the princess's grave, which, though cut down, shoot again, and are heard sighing in the night. Braga, Archip. Açor., 'Filba Maria,' 'Dom Doardos,' 'A Ermida no Mar,' Nos 32, 33, 34, Hartung, I, 220-224; Estacio da Veiga, 'Dom Diniz,' p. 64-67, ==Hartung, I, 217, 2: tree and pines, olive and pines, clove-tree and pine, roses and canes: in all, new miracles follow the cutting down. So also Almeida-Garrett, No 6, I, 167.

#Roumanian.# Alecsandri, 7, Stanley, p. 16, 'Ring and Handkerchief,' translated by Stanley, p. 193, Murray, p. 56: a fir and a vine, which meet over the church.

#French.# Beaurepaire, Poésie pop. en Normandie, p. 51: a thorn and an olive are _planted_ over the graves; the thorn embraces the olive.

#Romaic.# Passow, Nos 414, 415, 456, 469; Zambelios, p. 754, No 41; Tommaseo, Canti Popolari, III, 135; Chasiotis, p. 103, No 22: a cypress from the man's grave, a reed from the maid's (or from a common tomb); reversed in Passow, Nos 418, 470, and Schmidt, Griechische Märchen, u.s.w., No 59, p. 203. Sakellarios, p. 25, No 9, cypress and apple-tree; p. 38, No 13, cypress and lemon-tree. (F. Liebrecht, Zur Volkskunde, pp. 166, 168, 182, 183.)

#Servian.# Talvj, V.L. der Serben, II, p. 85: a fir and a rose; the rose twines round the fir.

#Wend.# Haupt and Schmaler, V.L. der Wenden, II, No 48: a maid, who kills herself on account of the death of her lover, orders two grape vines _to be planted_ over their graves: the vines intertwine.

#Breton.# Luzel, I, p. 423: a fleur-de-lis springs from a common tomb, and is always in flower, however often it is plucked.

#Italo-Albanian.# De Rada, Rapsodie d'un poema albanese, etc., p. 47: the youth comes up (nacque) a cypress; the maid a white vine, which clings around the tree. Camarda, Appendice al saggio di grammatologia comparata, 'Angelina,' p. 112, the same; but inappropriately, as Liebrecht has remarked, fidelity in love being wanting in this case.

#Magyar.# The lovers are buried before and behind the altar; white and red lilies spring from the tombs; mother or father destroys or attempts to destroy the plants: Aigner, Ungarische Volksdichtungen, 2d ed., at p. 92, p. 138, 131 f. Again, at p. 160, of the 'Two Princes' (Hero and Leander): here a white and a red tulip are _planted_ over the graves, in a garden, and it is expressly said that the souls of the enamored pair passed into the tulips. In the first piece the miracle occurs twice. The lovers had thrown themselves into a deep lake; plants rose above the surface of the water and intertwined (p. 91); the bodies were brought up by divers and buried in the church, where the marvel was repeated.

#Afghan.# Audam and Doorkhaunee, a poem "read, repeated, and sung, through all parts of the country," Elphinstone's Account of the Kingdom of Caubul, 1815, p. 185 f: two trees spring from their remains, and the branches mingle over their tomb. First cited by Talvj, Versuch, p. 140.

#Kurd.# Mem and Zin, a poem of Ahméd X[/-a]ni, died 1652-3: two rose bushes spring from their graves and interlock. Bulletin de la classe des sciences historiques, etc., de l'acad. impér. des sciences de St. Pét., tome XV, No 11, p. 170.

The idea of the love-animated plants has been thought to be derived from the romance of Tristan, where it also occurs; agreeably to a general principle, somewhat hastily assumed, that when romances and popular ballads have anything in common, priority belongs to the romances. The question as to precedence in this instance is an open one, for the fundamental conception is not less a favorite with ancient Greek than with mediæval imagination.

Tristan and Isolde had unwittingly drunk of a magical potion which had the power to induce an indestructible and ever-increasing love. Tristan died of a wound received in one of his adventures, and Isolde of a broken heart, because, though summoned to his aid, she arrived too late for him to profit by her medical skill. They were buried in the same church. According to the French prose romance, a green brier issued from Tristan's tomb, mounted to the roof, and, descending to Isolde's tomb, made its way within. King Marc caused the brier to be cut down three several times, but the morning after it was as flourishing as before.[116]

Eilhart von Oberge, vv. 9509-21 (ed. Lichtenstein, Quellen u. Forschungen, xix, 429) and the German prose romance (Büsching u. von der Hagen, Buch der Liebe, c. 60), Ulrich von Thürheim, vv. 3546-50, and Heinrich von Freiberg, vv. 6819-41 (in von der Hagen's ed. of G.v. Strassburg's Tristan) make King Marc _plant_, the first two a grape-vine over Tristan and a rose over Isolde, the others, wrongly, the rose over Tristan and the vine over Isolde. These plants, according to Heinrich, struck their roots into the hearts of the lovers below, while their branches embraced above. Icelandic ballads and an Icelandic saga represent Tristan's wife as forbidding the lovers to be buried in the same grave, and ordering them to be buried on opposite sides of the church. Trees spring from their bodies and meet over the church roof, (Íslenzk Fornkvæði, 23 #A#, #B#, #C#, #D#; Saga af Tristram ok Ísönd, Brynjulfson, p. 199; Tristrams Saga ok Ísondar, Kölbing, p. 112). The later Titurel imitates the conclusion of Tristan. (Der jüngere Titurel, ed. Hahn, sts 5789, 5790.)

Among the miracles of the Virgin there are several which are closely akin to the prodigies already noted. A lily is found growing from the mouth of a clerk, who, though not leading an exemplary life, had every day said his ave before the image of Mary: Unger, Mariu Saga, No 50; Berceo, No 3; Miracles de N.D. de Chartres, p. lxiii, No 29, and p. 239; Marien-legenden (Stuttgart, 1846), No xi and p. 269. A rose springs from the grave and roots in the heart of a knight who had spared the honor of a maid because her name was Mary: Unger, No clvi, Hagen's Gesammtabenteuer, lxxiii. Roses inscribed Maria grow from the mouth, eyes, and ears of a monk: Unger, cxxxvii; and a lily grows over a monk's grave, springing from his mouth, every leaf of which bears Ave Maria in golden letters: Unger, cxxxviii; Gesammtabenteuer, lxxxviii; Libro de Exenplos, Romania, 1878, p. 509, 43, 44; etc., etc.

No one can fail to be reminded of the purple, lily-shaped flower, inscribed with the mournful AI AI, that rose from the blood of Hyacinthus, and of the other from the blood of Ajax, with the same letters, "his name and eke his plaint," hæc nominis, illa querellæ. (Ovid, Met. X, 210 ff; xiii, 394 ff.) The northern lindens have their counterpart in the elms from the grave of Protesilaus, and in the trees into which Philemon and Baucis were transformed. See, upon the whole subject, the essay of Koberstein in the Weimar Jahrbuch, I, 73 ff, with Köhler's supplement, p. 479 ff; Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, II, 689 f, and III, 246.

"The ballad of the 'Douglas Tragedy,'" says Scott, "is one of the few to which popular tradition has ascribed complete locality. The farm of Blackhouse, in Selkirkshire, is said to have been the scene of this melancholy event. There are the remains of a very ancient tower, adjacent to the farm-house, in a wild and solitary glen, upon a torrent named Douglas burn, which joins the Yarrow after passing a craggy rock called the Douglas craig.... From this ancient tower Lady Margaret is said to have been carried by her lover. Seven large stones, erected upon the neighboring heights of Blackhouse, are shown, as marking the spot where the seven brethren were slain; and the Douglas burn is averred to have been the stream at which the lovers stopped to drink: so minute is tradition in ascertaining the scene of a tragical tale, which, considering the rude state of former times, had probably foundation in some real event."

The localities of the Danish story were ascertained, to her entire satisfaction, by Anne Krabbe in 1605-6, and are given again in Resen's Atlas Danicus, 1677. See Grundtvig, II, 342 f.

#B#, Scott's 'Douglas Tragedy,' is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, No 11; Afzelius, III, 86; Schubart, p. 159; Talvj, p. 565; Wolff, Halle, I, 76; Hausschatz, p. 201; Rosa Warrens, No 23; Gerhard, p. 28; Loève Veimars, p. 292.

'Ribold og Guldborg,' Danish #B#, is translated by Buchanan, p. 16 (loosely); #G# by Jamieson, Illustrations, p. 317, and Prior, II, 400; #T# by Prior, II, 407; Swedish #A#, For. Quart. Rev., XXV, 41. 'Hildebrand og Hilde,' Danish #A#, #B#, #F#, #H#, by Prior, II, 411-20.

A

#a#, #b#, from the papers of the late Robert White, Esq., of Newcastle-on-Tyne: #c#, R. Bell, Ancient Poems, Ballads, etc. (1857), p. 122: #d#, fragmentary lines as remembered by Mrs Andrews, Mr White's sister, from her mother's singing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

18 'Ha, ha, ha! ye are a' mistaen: Gae count your maidens oer again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

28 'O Earl Bran, I see your heart's blood!' 'T is but the gleat o my scarlet hood.'

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

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

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

* * * * * * *

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

* * * * * * *

B

Scott's Minstrelsy, III, 246, ed. 1803; III, 6, ed. 1833: the copy principally used supplied by Mr Sharpe, the three last stanzas from a penny pamphlet and from tradition.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

13 'Hold up, hold up, Lord William,' she says, 'For I fear that you are slain;' ''T is naething but the shadow of my scarlet cloak, That shines in the water sae plain.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

C

Motherwell's MS., p. 502. From the recitation of Mrs Notman.

1 'Rise up, rise up, my seven brave sons, And dress in your armour so bright; Earl Douglas will hae Lady Margaret awa Before that it be light.

2 'Arise, arise, my seven brave sons, And dress in your armour so bright; It shall never be said that a daughter of mine Shall go with an earl or a knight.'

3 'O will ye stand, fair Margaret,' he says, 'And hold my milk-white steed, Till I fight your father and seven brethren, In yonder pleasant mead?'

4 She stood and held his milk-white steed, She stood trembling with fear, Until she saw her seven brethren fall, And her father that loved her dear.

5 'Hold your hand, Earl Douglas,' she says, 'Your strokes are wonderous sair; I may get sweethearts again enew, But a father I'll ne'er get mair.'

6 She took out a handkerchief Was made o' the cambrick fine, And aye she wiped her father's bloody wounds, And the blood sprung up like wine.

7 'Will ye go, fair Margaret?' he said, 'Will ye now go, or bide?' 'Yes, I'll go, sweet William,' she said, 'For ye've left me never a guide.

8 'If I were to go to my mother's house, A welcome guest I would be; But for the bloody deed that's done this day I'll rather go with thee.'

9 He lifted her on a milk-white steed And himself on a dapple gray; They drew their hats out over their face, And they both went weeping away.

10 They rode, they rode, and they better rode, Till they came to yon water wan; They lighted down to gie their horse a drink Out of the running stream.

11 'I am afraid, Earl Douglas.' she said, 'I am afraid ye are slain; I think I see your bonny heart's blood Running down the water wan.'

12 'Oh no, oh no, fair Margaret,' he said, 'Oh no, I am not slain; It is but the scad of my scarlet cloak Runs down the water wan.'

13 He mounted her on a milk-white steed And himself on a dapple gray, And they have reached Earl Douglas' gates Before the break of day.

14 'O rise, dear mother, and make my bed, And make it braid and wide, And lay me down to take my rest, And at my back my bride.'

15 She has risen and made his bed, She made it braid and wide; She laid him down to take his rest, And at his back his bride.

16 Lord William died ere it was day, Lady Margaret on the morrow; Lord William died through loss of blood and wounds, Fair Margaret died with sorrow.

17 The one was buried in Mary's kirk, The other in Mary's quire; The one sprung up a bonnie bush, And the other a bonny brier.

18 These twa grew, and these twa threw, Till they came to the top, And when they could na farther gae, They coost the lovers' knot.

D

Kinloch MSS, I, 327.

1 'Sleepst thou or wakst thou, Lord Montgomerie, Sleepst thou or wakst thou, I say? Rise up, make a match for your eldest daughter, For the youngest I carry away.'

2 'Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons, Dress yourselves in the armour sae fine; For it ne'er shall be said that a churlish knight Eer married a daughter of mine.'

* * * * * * *

3 'Loup aff, loup aff, Lady Margaret,' he said, 'And hold my steed in your hand, And I will go fight your seven brethren, And your father, where they stand.'

4 Sometimes she gaed, sometimes she stood, But never dropt a tear, Until she saw her brethren all slain And her father who lovd her so dear.

5 'Hold thy hand, sweet William,' she says, 'Thy blows are wondrous sore; Sweethearts I may have many a one, But a father I'll never have more.'

6 O she's taken her napkin frae her pocket, Was made o the holland fine, And ay as she dichted her father's bloody wounds, They sprang as red as the wine.

7 'Two chooses, two chooses, Lady Margret,' he says, 'Two chooses I'll make thee; Whether to go back to your mother again, Or go along with me.'

8 'For to go home to my mother again, An unwelcome guest I'd be; But since my fate has ordered it so, I'll go along with thee.'

9 He has mounted her on a milk-white steed, Himself on the dapple gray, And blawn his horn baith loud and shill, And it sounded far on their way.

10 They rode oer hill, they rode oer dale, They rode oer mountains so high, Until they came to that beautiful place Where Sir William's mother did lie.

11 'Rise up, rise up, lady mother,' he said, 'Rise up, and make much o your own; Rise up, rise up, lady mother,' he said, 'For his bride's just new come home.'

12 Sir William he died in the middle o the night, Lady Margaret died on the morrow; Sir William he died of pure pure love, Lady Margaret of grief and sorrow.

E

Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 180. From recitation.

1 He has lookit over his left shoulder, And through his bonnie bridle rein, And he spy'd her father and her seven bold brethren, Come riding down the glen.

2 'O hold my horse, Lady Margret,' he said, 'O hold my horse by the bonnie bridle rein, Till I fight your father and seven bold brethren, As they come riding down the glen.'

3 Some time she rade, and some time she gaed, Till she that place did near, And there she spy'd her seven bold brethren slain, And her father who loved her so dear.

4 'O hold your hand, sweet William,' she said, 'Your bull baits are wondrous sair; Sweet-hearts I may get many a one, But a father I will never get mair.'

5 She has taken a napkin from off her neck, That was of the cambrick so fine, And aye as she wiped her father's bloody wounds, The blood ran red as the wine.

* * * * * * *

6 He set her upon the milk-white steed, Himself upon the brown; He took a horn out of his pocket, And they both went weeping along.

F

Percy MS., p. 57; ed. Hales and Furnivall, I, 133.

1 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sayes 'Christ thee saue, good Child of Ell! Christ saue thee and thy steede!

2 'My father sayes he will [eat] noe meate, Nor his drinke shall doe him noe good, Till he haue slaine the Child of Ell, And haue seene his harts blood.'

3 'I wold I were in my sadle sett, And a mile out of the towne; I did not care for yo_u_r father And all his merry men!

4 'I wold I were in my sadle sett, And a little space him froe; I did not care for yo_u_r father And all that long him to!'

5 He leaned ore his saddle bow To kisse this lady good; The teares _that_ went them _two_ betweene Were blend water and blood.

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

7 He had not ridden past a mile, A mile out of the towne, . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

8 Her father was readye with her _seuen_ brether, He said, 'Sett thou my daughter downe! For it ill beseemes thee, thou fal