Chapter IV (1)

The 'Fyttes of Mirth' conclude the present volume. It may be as well to say here that I have placed under this head any ballad that tells of a successful issue and has a happy ending or mirthful climax.

The version I have given of that famous ballad _The Lord of Learne_ (or, more commonly, _Lorne_) is most enchanting in its _naïveté_, and, when read aloud or recited, is exceedingly effective. The curious remark that the affectionate parting between the young Lord and his father and mother would have changed even a Jew's heart; the picturesque description of the siege of the castle, so close that 'a swallow could not have flown away'; the sudden descent from romance to a judicial trial; the remarkable assumption by the foreman of the jury of the privileges of a judge; and the thoroughly satisfactory description of the false steward's execution--

'I-wis they did him curstly cumber!'

--all these help to form the ever-popular _Lord of Learne_.

The remaining 'Fyttes of Mirth' are mostly well known, and require no further comment.

ADDITION TO GLOSSARY OF BALLAD COMMONPLACES

(See First Series, pp. xlvi-li)

The late Professor York Powell explained to me, since the note on 'gare' (First Series, p. 1) was written, that the word means exactly what is meant by 'gore' in modern dressmaking. The antique skirt was made of four pieces: two cut square, to form the front and the back; and two of a triangular shape, to fill the space between, the apex of the triangle, of course, being at the waist. Thus a knife that 'hangs low down' by a person's 'gare,' simply means that the knife hung at the side and not in front.

THOMAS RYMER

+The Text.+--The best-known text of this famous ballad is that given by Scott in the _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, derived 'from a copy obtained from a lady residing not far from Erceldoune, corrected and enlarged by one in Mrs. Brown's MS.' Scott's ballad is compounded, therefore, of a traditional version, and the one here given, from the Tytler-Brown MS., which was printed by Jamieson with a few changes. It does not mention Huntlie bank or the Eildon tree. Scott's text may be seen printed parallel with Jamieson's in Professor J. A. H. Murray's book referred to below.

+The Story.+--As early as the fourteenth century there lived a Thomas of Erceldoune, or Thomas the Rhymer, who had a reputation as a seer and prophet. His fame was not extinct in the nineteenth century, and a collection of prophecies by him and Merlin and others, first issued in 1603, could be found at the beginning of that century 'in most farmhouses in Scotland' (Murray, _The Romance and Prophecies of Thomas of Erceldoune_, E.E.T.S., 1875). The existence of a Thomas de Ercildoun, son and heir of Thomas Rymour de Ercildoun, both living during the thirteenth century, is recorded in contemporary documents.

A poem, extant in five manuscripts (all printed by Murray as above), of which the earliest was written about the middle of the fifteenth century, relates that Thomas of Erceldoune his prophetic powers were given him by the Queen of Elfland, who bore him away to her country for some years, and then restored him to this world lest he should be chosen for the tribute paid to hell. So much is told in the first fytte, which corresponds roughly to our ballad. The rest of the poem consists of prophecies taught to him by the Queen.

The poem contains references to a still earlier story, which probably narrated only the episode of Thomas's adventure in Elfland, and to which the prophecies of Thomas Rymour of Ercildoun were added at a later date. The story of Thomas and the Queen of Elfland is only another version of a legend of Ogier le Danois and Morgan the Fay.

Our ballad is almost certainly derived directly from the poem, and the version here given is not marred by the repugnant ending of Scott's ballad, where Thomas objects to the gift of a tongue that can never lie. But Scott's version retains Huntlie bank and the Eildon tree, both mentioned in the old poem, and both exactly located during last century at the foot of the Eildon Hills, above Melrose (see an interesting account in Murray, _op. cit._, Introduction, pp. l-lii and footnotes).

THOMAS RYMER

1.
True Thomas lay o'er yond grassy bank,
And he beheld a ladie gay,
A ladie that was brisk and bold,
Come riding o'er the fernie brae.

2.
Her skirt was of the grass-green silk,
Her mantel of the velvet fine,
At ilka tett of her horse's mane
Hung fifty silver bells and nine.

3.
True Thomas he took off his hat,
And bowed him low down till his knee:
'All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven!
For your peer on earth I never did see.'

4.
'O no, O no, True Thomas,' she says,
'That name does not belong to me;
I am but the queen of fair Elfland,
And I'm come here for to visit thee.

5.
'But ye maun go wi' me now, Thomas,
True Thomas, ye maun go wi' me,
For ye maun serve me seven years,
Thro' weel or wae, as may chance to be.'

6.
She turned about her milk-white steed,
And took True Thomas up behind,
And aye whene'er her bridle rang,
The steed flew swifter than the wind.

7.
For forty days and forty nights
He wade thro' red blude to the knee,
And he saw neither sun nor moon,
But heard the roaring of the sea.

8.
O they rade on, and further on,
Until they came to a garden green:
'Light down, light down, ye ladie free,
Some of that fruit let me pull to thee.'

9.
'O no, O no, True Thomas,' she says,
'That fruit maun not be touched by thee,
For a' the plagues that are in hell
Light on the fruit of this countrie.

10.
'But I have a loaf here in my lap,
Likewise a bottle of claret wine,
And now ere we go farther on,
We'll rest a while, and ye may dine.'

11.
When he had eaten and drunk his fill;
'Lay down your head upon my knee,'
The lady sayd, 'ere we climb yon hill,
And I will show you fairlies three.

12.
'O see not ye yon narrow road,
So thick beset wi' thorns and briers?
That is the path of righteousness,
Tho' after it but few enquires.

13.
'And see not ye that braid braid road,
That lies across yon lillie leven?
That is the path of wickedness,
Tho' some call it the road to heaven.

14.
'And see not ye that bonny road,
Which winds about the fernie brae?
That is the road to fair Elfland,
Where you and I this night maun gae.

15.
'But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue,
Whatever you may hear or see,
For gin ae word you should chance to speak,
You will ne'er get back to your ain countrie.'

16.
He has gotten a coat of the even cloth,
And a pair of shoes of velvet green,
And till seven years were past and gone
True Thomas on earth was never seen.

[Annotations:
2.3: 'tett,' lock or bunch of hair.
7: 7 is 15 in the MS.
8.2: 'garden': '_golden green_, if my copy is right.' --Child.
11.4: 'fairlies,' marvels.
13.2: 'lillie leven,' smooth lawn set with lilies.
16.1: 'even cloth,' cloth with the nap worn off.]

THE QUEEN OF ELFAN'S NOURICE

+The Text.+--As printed in Sharpe's Ballad Book, from the Skene MS. (No. 8). It is fragmentary--regrettably so, especially as stanzas 10-12 belong to _Thomas Rymer_.

+The Story+ is the well-known one of the abduction of a young mother to be the Queen of Elfland's nurse. Fairies, elves, water-sprites, and nisses or brownies, have constantly required mortal assistance in the nursing of fairy children. Gervase of Tilbury himself saw a woman stolen away for this purpose, as she was washing clothes in the Rhone.

The genuineness of this ballad, deficient as it is, is best proved by its lyrical nature, which, as Child says, 'forces you to chant, and will not be read.'

'Elfan,' of course, is Elfland; 'nourice,' a nurse.

THE QUEEN OF ELFAN'S NOURICE

1.
'I heard a cow low, a bonnie cow low,
An' a cow low down in yon glen;
Lang, lang, will my young son greet
Or his mother bid him come ben.

2.
'I heard a cow low, a bonnie cow low,
An' a cow low down in yon fauld;
Lang, lang will my young son greet
Or his mither take him frae cauld.

*** *** ***

3.
' ... ... ...
... ... ...
Waken, Queen of Elfan,
An' hear your nourice moan.'

4.
'O moan ye for your meat,
Or moan ye for your fee,
Or moan ye for the ither bounties
That ladies are wont to gie?'

5.
'I moan na for my meat,
Nor moan I for my fee,
Nor moan I for the ither bounties
That ladies are wont to gie.

6.
' ... ... ...
... ... ...
But I moan for my young son
I left in four nights auld.

7.
'I moan na for my meat,
Nor yet for my fee,
But I mourn for Christen land,
It's there I fain would be.'

8.
'O nurse my bairn, nourice,' she says,
'Till he stan' at your knee,
An' ye's win hame to Christen land,
Whar fain it's ye wad be.

9.
'O keep my bairn, nourice,
Till he gang by the hauld,
An' ye's win hame to your young son
Ye left in four nights auld.'

*** *** ***

10.
'O nourice lay your head
Upo' my knee:
See ye na that narrow road
Up by yon tree?

11.
... ... ...
... ... ...
That's the road the righteous goes,
And that's the road to heaven.

12.
'An' see na ye that braid road,
Down by yon sunny fell?
Yon's the road the wicked gae,
An' that's the road to hell.'

*** *** ***

[Annotations:
1.4: 'ben,' within.
9.2: _i.e._ till he can walk by holding on to things.]

ALLISON GROSS

+The Text+ is that of the Jamieson-Brown MS.

+The Story+ is one of the countless variations of the French 'Beauty and the Beast.' A modern Greek tale narrates that a nereid, enamoured of a youth, and by him scorned, turned him into a snake till he should find another love as fair as she.

The feature of this ballad is that the queen of the fairies should have power to undo the evil done by a witch.

ALLISON GROSS

1.
O Allison Gross, that lives in yon tow'r,
The ugliest witch i' the north country,
Has trysted me ae day up till her bow'r,
An' monny fair speech she made to me.

2.
She stroaked my head, an' she kembed my hair,
An' she set me down saftly on her knee;
Says, 'Gin ye will be my lemman so true,
Sae monny braw things as I woud you gi'.'

3.
She show'd me a mantle o' red scarlet,
Wi' gouden flow'rs an' fringes fine;
Says, 'Gin ye will be my lemman sae true,
This goodly gift it sal be thine.'

4.
'Awa', awa', ye ugly witch,
Haud far awa', an' lat me be;
I never will be your lemman sae true,
An' I wish I were out o' your company.'

5.
She neist brought a sark o' the saftest silk,
Well wrought wi' pearles about the ban';
Says, 'Gin ye will be my ain true love,
This goodly gift you sal comman'.'

6.
She show'd me a cup o' the good red gold,
Well set wi' jewls sae fair to see;
Says, 'Gin you will be my lemman sae true,
This goodly gift I will you gi'.'

7.
'Awa', awa', ye ugly witch,
Had far awa', and lat me be!
For I woudna ance kiss your ugly mouth
For a' the gifts that you coud gi'.'

8.
She's turn'd her right and roun' about,
An' thrice she blaw on a grass-green horn;
An' she sware by the meen and the stars abeen,
That she'd gar me rue the day I was born.

9.
Then out has she ta'en a silver wand,
An' she's turn'd her three times roun' and roun';
She's mutter'd sich words till my strength it fail'd,
An' I fell down senceless upon the groun'.

10.
She's turn'd me into an ugly worm,
And gard me toddle about the tree;
An' ay, on ilka Saturday's night,
My sister Maisry came to me;

11.
Wi' silver bason and silver kemb,
To kemb my heady upon her knee;
But or I had kiss'd her ugly mouth,
I'd rather 'a' toddled about the tree.

12.
But as it fell out on last Hallow-even,
When the seely court was ridin' by,
The queen lighted down on a gowany bank,
Nae far frae the tree where I wont to lye.

13.
She took me up in her milk-white han',
An' she's stroak'd me three times o'er her knee;
She chang'd me again to my ain proper shape,
And I nae mair maun toddle about the tree.

[Annotations:
5.1: 'sark,' shirt.
12.2: 'the seely court,' _i.e._ the fairies' court.
12.3: 'gowany,' daisied.]

THE LAILY WORM AND THE MACHREL OF THE SEA

+The Text+ of this mutilated ballad is taken from the Skene MS., where it was written down from recitation in the North of Scotland about 1802.

+The Story+ is of a double transformation of a sister and brother by a stepmother. Compare the story of _The Marriage of Sir Gawaine_ (First Series, p. 108). _Allison Gross_ should be compared closely with this ballad. The combing of hair seems to be a favourite method of expressing affection, not only in these ballads, but also in Scandinavian folklore. It is needless to take exception to the attribution either of hair to a worm, or of knees to a machrel: though we may note that in one version of _Dives and Lazarus_ Dives 'has a place prepared in hell to sit on a serpent's knee.' However, it is probable that a part of the ballad, now lost, stated that the machrel (whatever it may be) reassumed human shape 'every Saturday at noon.'

THE LAILY WORM AND THE MACHREL OF THE SEA

1.
'I was but seven year auld
When my mither she did die;
My father married the ae warst woman
The warld did ever see.

2.
'For she has made me the laily worm,
That lies at the fit o' the tree,
An' my sister Masery she's made
The machrel of the sea.

3.
'An' every Saturday at noon
The machrel comes to me,
An' she takes my laily head
An' lays it on her knee,
She kaims it wi' a siller kaim,
An' washes 't in the sea.

4.
'Seven knights hae I slain,
Sin I lay at the fit of the tree,
An' ye war na my ain father,
The eight ane ye should be.'

5.
'Sing on your song, ye laily worm,
That ye did sing to me:'
'I never sung that song but what
I would sing it to thee.

6.
'I was but seven year auld,
When my mither she did die;
My father married the ae warst woman
The warld did ever see.

7.
'For she changed me to the laily worm,
That lies at the fit o' the tree,
And my sister Masery
To the machrel of the sea.

8.
'And every Saturday at noon
The machrel comes to me,
An' she takes my laily head
An' lays it on her knee,
An' kames it wi' a siller kame,
An' washes it i' the sea.

9.
'Seven knights hae I slain
Sin I lay at the fit o' the tree;
An' ye war na my ain father,
The eighth ane ye shoud be.'

10.
He sent for his lady,
As fast as send could he:
'Whar is my son that ye sent frae me,
And my daughter, Lady Masery?'

11.
'Your son is at our king's court,
Serving for meat an' fee,
An' your daughter's at our queen's court,
... ... ...'

12.
'Ye lie, ye ill woman,
Sae loud as I hear ye lie;
My son's the laily worm,
That lies at the fit o' the tree,
And my daughter, Lady Masery,
Is the machrel of the sea!'

13.
She has tane a siller wan',
An' gi'en him strokes three,
And he has started up the bravest knight
That ever your eyes did see.

14.
She has ta'en a small horn,
An' loud an' shrill blew she,
An' a' the fish came her untill
But the proud machrel of the sea:
'Ye shapeit me ance an unseemly shape,
An' ye's never mare shape me.'

15.
He has sent to the wood
For whins and for hawthorn,
An' he has ta'en that gay lady,
An' there he did her burn.

[Annotation:
2.1 etc.: 'laily' = laidly, loathly.]

KEMP OWYNE

+The Text+ is that given (nearly _literatim_) by Buchan and Motherwell, and also in the MSS. of the latter.

+The Story.+--This adventure of Owyne (Owain, 'the King's son Urien,' Ywaine, etc.), with the subsequent transformation, has a parallel in an Icelandic saga. Rehabilitation in human shape by means of a kiss is a common tale in the Scandinavian area; occasionally three kisses are necessary.

A similar ballad, now lost, but re-written by the contributor, from scraps of recitation by an old woman in Berwickshire, localises the story of the fire-drake ('the laidly worm') near Bamborough in Northumberland; and Kinloch said that the term 'Childe o' Wane' was still applied by disconsolate damsels of Bamborough to any youth who champions them. However, Mr. R. W. Clark of Bamborough, who has kindly made inquiries for me, could find no survival of this use.

The ballad is also called 'Kempion.'

KEMP OWYNE

1.
Her mother died when she was young,
Which gave her cause to make great moan;
Her father married the warst woman
That ever lived in Christendom.

2.
She served her with foot and hand,
In every thing that she could dee,
Till once, in an unlucky time,
She threw her in ower Craigy's sea.

3.
Says, 'Lie you there, dove Isabel,
And all my sorrows lie with thee;
Till Kemp Owyne come ower the sea,
And borrow you with kisses three,
Let all the warld do what they will,
Oh borrowed shall you never be!'

4.
Her breath grew strang, her hair grew lang,
And twisted thrice about the tree,
And all the people, far and near,
Thought that a savage beast was she.

5.
These news did come to Kemp Owyne,
Where he lived, far beyond the sea;
He hasted him to Craigy's sea,
And on the savage beast look'd he.

6.
Her breath was strang, her hair was lang,
And twisted was about the tree,
And with a swing she came about:
'Come to Craigy's sea, and kiss with me.

7.
'Here is a royal belt,' she cried,
'That I have found in the green sea;
And while your body it is on,
Drawn shall your blood never be;
But if you touch me, tail or fin,
I vow my belt your death shall be.'

8.
He stepped in, gave her a kiss,
The royal belt he brought him wi';
Her breath was strang, her hair was lang,
And twisted twice about the tree,
And with a swing she came about:
'Come to Craigy's sea, and kiss with me.

9.
'Here is a royal ring,' she said,
'That I have found in the green sea;
And while your finger it is on,
Drawn shall your blood never be;
But if you touch me, tail or fin,
I swear my ring your death shall be.'

10.
He stepped in, gave her a kiss,
The royal ring he brought him wi';
Her breath was strang, her hair was lang,
And twisted ance about the tree,
And with a swing she came about:
'Come to Craigy's sea, and kiss with me.

11.
'Here is a royal brand,' she said,
'That I have found in the green sea;
And while your body it is on,
Drawn shall your blood never be;
But if you touch me, tail or fin,
I swear my brand your death shall be.'

12.
He stepped in, gave her a kiss,
The royal brand he brought him wi';
Her breath was sweet, her hair grew short,
And twisted nane about the tree,
And smilingly she came about,
As fair a woman as fair could be.

[Annotations:
3.3: 'Kemp' = champion, knight. Cp. 'Childe' in _Childe Maurice_,
etc.
3.4: 'borrow,' ransom.]

WILLIE'S LADY

+The Text+ is from the lost Fraser-Tytler-Brown MS., this ballad luckily having been transcribed before the MS. disappeared. Mrs. Brown recited another and a fuller version to Jamieson.

+The Story.+--Willie's mother, a witch, displeased at her son's choice, maliciously arrests by witchcraft the birth of Willie's son. Willie's travailing wife sends him again and again to bribe the witch, who refuses cup, steed, and girdle. Here our version makes such abrupt transitions, that it will be well to explain what takes place. The Belly Blind or Billie Blin (see _Young Bekie_, First Series, pp. 6, 7) advises Willie to make a sham baby of wax, and invite his witch-mother to the christening. Willie does so (in stanzas lost between our 33 and 34); the witch, believing the wax-baby to be flesh and blood, betrays all her craft by asking who has loosed the knots, ta'en out the kaims, ta'en down the woodbine, etc., these being the magic rites by which she has suspended birth. Willie instantly looses the knots and takes out the kaims, and his wife presents him with a bonny young son.

The story is common in Danish ballads, and occasional in Swedish. In the classics, Juno (Hera) on two occasions delayed childbirth and cheated Ilithyia, the sufferers being Latona and Alcmene. But the latest version of the story is said to have occurred in Arran in the nineteenth century. A young man, forsaking his sweetheart, married another maiden, who when her time came suffered exceedingly. A packman who chanced to be passing heard the tale and suspected the cause. Going to the discarded sweetheart, he told her that her rival had given birth to a fine child; thereupon she sprang up, pulled a large nail out of the beam, and called to her mother, 'Muckle good your craft has done!' The labouring wife was delivered forthwith. (See _The Folklore Record_, vol. ii. p. 117.)

WILLIE'S LADY

1.
Willie has taen him o'er the fame,
He's woo'd a wife and brought her hame.

2.
He's woo'd her for her yellow hair,
But his mother wrought her mickle care,

3.
And mickle dolour gard her dree,
For lighter she can never be.

4.
But in her bower she sits wi' pain,
And Willie mourns o'er her in vain.

5.
And to his mother he has gone,
That vile rank witch of vilest kind.

6.
He says: 'My ladie has a cup
Wi' gowd and silver set about.

7.
'This goodlie gift shall be your ain,
And let her be lighter o' her young bairn.'

8.
'Of her young bairn she'll ne'er be lighter,
Nor in her bower to shine the brighter.

9.
'But she shall die and turn to clay,
And you shall wed another may.'

10.
'Another may I'll never wed,
Another may I'll ne'er bring home.'

11.
But sighing says that weary wight,
'I wish my life were at an end.'

12.
'Ye doe [ye] unto your mother again,
That vile rank witch of vilest kind.

13.
'And say your ladie has a steed,
The like o' 'm's no in the lands of Leed.

14.
'For he's golden shod before,
And he's golden shod behind.

15.
'And at ilka tet of that horse's main
There's a golden chess and a bell ringing.

16.
'This goodlie gift shall be your ain,
And let me be lighter of my young bairn.'

17.
'O' her young bairn she'll ne'er be lighter,
Nor in her bower to shine the brighter.

18.
'But she shall die and turn to clay,
And ye shall wed another may.'

19.
'Another may I'll never wed,
Another may I'll neer bring hame.'

20.
But sighing said that weary wight,
'I wish my life were at an end.'

21.
'Ye doe [ye] unto your mother again,
That vile rank witch of vilest kind.

22.
'And say your ladie has a girdle,
It's red gowd unto the middle.

23.
'And ay at every silver hem
Hangs fifty silver bells and ten.

24.
'That goodlie gift sall be her ain,
And let me be lighter of my young bairn.'

25.
'O' her young bairn she's ne'er be lighter,
Nor in her bower to shine the brighter.

26.
'But she shall die and turn to clay,
And you shall wed another may.'

27.
'Another may I'll never wed,
Another may I'll ne'er bring hame.'

28.
But sighing says that weary wight,
'I wish my life were at an end.'

29.
Then out and spake the Belly Blind;
He spake aye in good time.

30.
'Ye doe ye to the market place,
And there ye buy a loaf o' wax.

31.
'Ye shape it bairn and bairnly like,
And in twa glassen een ye pit;

32.
'And bid her come to your boy's christening;
Then notice weel what she shall do.

33.
'And do you stand a little forebye,
And listen weel what she shall say.'

*** *** ***

34.
'O wha has loosed the nine witch knots
That was amo' that ladie's locks?

35.
'And wha has taen out the kaims of care
That hangs amo' that ladie's hair?

36.
'And wha's taen down the bush o' woodbine
That hang atween her bower and mine?

37.
'And wha has kill'd the master kid
That ran beneath that ladie's bed?

38.
'And wha has loosed her left-foot shee,
And lotten that lady lighter be?'

39.
O Willie has loosed the nine witch knots
That was amo' that ladie's locks.

40.
And Willie's taen out the kaims o' care
That hang amo' that ladie's hair.

41.
And Willie's taen down the bush o' woodbine
That hang atween her bower and thine.

42.
And Willie has killed the master kid
That ran beneath that ladie's bed.

43.
And Willie has loosed her left-foot shee,
And letten his ladie lighter be.

44.
And now he's gotten a bonny young son,
And mickle grace be him upon.

[Annotations:
19: 'I'll' is 'I' in both lines in the MS.
24.1: 'sall' is Scott's emendation for _has_ in the MS.]

THE WEE WEE MAN

+The Text+ is that of Herd's MS. and his _Scots Songs_. Other versions vary very slightly, and this is the oldest of them.

There is a fourteenth-century MS. (in the Cotton collection) containing a poem not unlike _The Wee Wee Man_; but there is no justification in deriving the ballad from the poem, which may be found in Ritson's _Ancient Songs_ (1829), i. p. 40.

Scott incorporates the story with _The Young Tamlane_.

THE WEE WEE MAN

1.
As I was wa'king all alone,
Between a water and a wa',
And there I spy'd a wee wee man,
And he was the least that ere I saw.

2.
His legs were scarce a shathmont's length,
And thick and thimber was his thigh;
Between his brows there was a span,
And between his shoulders there was three.

3.
He took up a meikle stane,
And he flang 't as far as I could see;
Though I had been a Wallace wight,
I couldna liften't to my knee.

4.
'O wee wee man, but thou be strang!
O tell me where thy dwelling be?'
'My dwelling's down at yon bonny bower;
O will you go with me and see?'

5.
On we lap, and awa' we rade,
Till we came to yon bonny green;
We lighted down for to bait our horse,
And out there came a lady fine.

6.
Four and twenty at her back,
And they were a' clad out in green;
Though the King of Scotland had been there,
The warst o' them might hae been his queen.

7.
On we lap, and awa' we rade,
Till we came to yon bonny ha',
Whare the roof was o' the beaten gould,
And the floor was o' the cristal a'.

8.
When we came to the stair-foot,
Ladies were dancing, jimp and sma',
But in the twinkling of an eye,
My wee wee man was clean awa'.

[Annotations:
1.4: 'ere,' _i.e._ e'er.
2.1: 'shathmont,' a span.
2.2: 'thimber,' gross.]

COSPATRICK

+The Text+ is that of Scott's _Minstrelsy_ (1802). It was 'taken down from the recitation of a lady' (his mother's sister, Miss Christian Rutherford), and collated with a copy in the Tytler-Brown MS. The ballad is also called _Gil Brenton_, _Lord Dingwall_, _Bangwell_, _Bengwill_, or _Brangwill_, _Bothwell_, etc.

+The Story+ is a great favourite, not only in Scandinavian ballads, but also in all northern literature. The magical agency of bed, blankets, sheets, and sword, is elsewhere extended to a chair, a stepping-stone by the bedside (see the _Boy and the Mantle_, First Series, p. 119), or the Billie Blin (see _Young Bekie_, First Series, pp. 6, 7, and _Willie's Lady_, p. 19). The Norwegian tale of Aase and the Prince is known to English readers in Dasent's _Annie the Goosegirl_. The Prince is possessed of a stepping-stone by his bedside, which answers his question night and morning, and enables him to detect the supposititious bride. See also Jamieson's translation of _Ingefred and Gudrunè_, in _Illustrations of Northern Antiquities_, p. 340.

COSPATRICK

1.
Cospatrick has sent o'er 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 call'd 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.
'Ohon! 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-coll'd hose and laigh-coll'd shoon,
And he seem'd to be some 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 gold ring,
I bade you keep abune a' thing?'

54.
'I gae them 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 come and gane,
The ladye bore a bonny son;

60.
And 'twas 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.'

[Annotations:
18.1: A mark was two-thirds of a pound.
31.1: 'stark and sture,' sturdy and strong.
36.1: 'kavils' = kevels, lots.
37.2: 'wierd,' fate.
41.2: 'hende' (? = heynde, person).
42.1: 'high-coll'd ... laigh-coll'd,' high-cut ... low-cut.
46.1: 'carknet,' necklace.
57.2: 'burd,' maiden.
61.1: 'rowe,' roll, wrap.]

YOUNG AKIN

+The Text+ is taken from Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_, and, like nearly all Buchan's versions, exhibits traces of vulgar remoulding. This ballad in particular has lost much of the original features. Kinloch called his version _Hynde Etin_, Allingham his compilation _Etin the Forester_.

+The Story+ is given in a far finer style in romantic Scandinavian ballads. Prior translated two of them, _The Maid and the Dwarf-King_, and _Agnes and the Merman_, both Danish. The Norse ballads on this subject, which may still be heard sung, are exceptionally beautiful. Child says, 'They should make an Englishman's heart wring for his loss.'

In the present version we may with some confidence attribute to Buchan the stanzas from 48 to the end, as well as 15 and 16. The preference is given to Buchan's text merely because it retains features lost in Kinloch's version.

YOUNG AKIN

1.
Lady Margaret sits in her bower door,
Sewing at her silken seam;
She heard a note in Elmond's wood,
And wish'd she there had been.

2.
She loot the seam fa' frae her side,
And the needle to her tae,
And she is on to Elmond-wood
As fast as she coud gae.

3.
She hadna pu'd a nut, a nut,
Nor broken a branch but ane,
Till by it came a young hind chiel,
Says, 'Lady, lat alane.

4.
'O why pu' ye the nut, the nut,
Or why brake ye the tree?
For I am forester o' this wood:
Ye shoud spier leave at me.'

5.
'I'll ask leave at no living man,
Nor yet will I at thee;
My father is king o'er a' this realm,
This wood belongs to me.'

6.
She hadna pu'd a nut, a nut,
Nor broken a branch but three,
Till by it came him Young Akin,
And gard her lat them be.

7.
The highest tree in Elmond's wood,
He's pu'd it by the reet,
And he has built for her a bower,
Near by a hallow seat.

8.
He's built a bower, made it secure
Wi' carbuncle and stane;
Tho' travellers were never sae nigh,
Appearance it had nane.

9.
He's kept her there in Elmond's wood
For six lang years and one,
Till six pretty sons to him she bear,
And the seventh she's brought home.

10.
It fell ance upon a day,
This guid lord went from home,
And he is to the hunting gane,
Took wi' him his eldest son.

11.
And when they were on a guid way,
Wi' slowly pace did walk,
The boy's heart being something wae,
He thus began to talk.

12.
'A question I woud ask, father,
Gin ye woudna angry be;'
'Say on, say on, my bonny boy,
Ye'se nae be quarrell'd by me.'

13.
'I see my mither's cheeks aye weet,
I never can see them dry;
And I wonder what aileth my mither,
To mourn continually.'

14.
'Your mither was a king's daughter,
Sprung frae a high degree,
And she might hae wed some worthy prince
Had she nae been stown by me.

15.
'I was her father's cupbearer,
Just at that fatal time;
I catch'd her on a misty night,
When summer was in prime.

16.
'My luve to her was most sincere,
Her luve was great for me,
But when she hardships doth endure,
Her folly she does see.'

17.
'I'll shoot the buntin' o' the bush,
The linnet o' the tree,
And bring them to my dear mither,
See if she'll merrier be.'

18.
It fell upo' another day,
This guid lord he thought lang,
And he is to the hunting gane,
Took wi' him his dog and gun.

19.
Wi' bow and arrow by his side,
He's aff, single, alane,
And left his seven children to stay
Wi' their mither at hame.

20.
'O I will tell to you, mither,
Gin ye wadna angry be:'
'Speak on, speak on, my little wee boy,
Ye'se nae be quarrell'd by me.'

21.
'As we came frae the hynd-hunting,
We heard fine music ring:'
'My blessings on you, my bonny boy,
I wish I'd been there my lane.'

22.
He's ta'en his mither by the hand,
His six brithers also,
And they are on thro' Elmond's wood
As fast as they coud go.

23.
They wistna weel where they were gaen,
Wi' the stratlins o' their feet;
They wistna weel where they were gaen,
Till at her father's yate.

24.
'I hae nae money in my pocket,
But royal rings hae three;
I'll gie them you, my little young son,
And ye'll walk there for me.

25.
'Ye'll gie the first to the proud porter,
And he will lat you in;
Ye'll gie the next to the butler-boy,
And he will show you ben.

26.
'Ye'll gie the third to the minstrel
That plays before the King;
He'll play success to the bonny boy
Came thro' the wood him lane.'

27.
He ga'e the first to the proud porter,
And he open'd an' let him in;
He ga'e the next to the butler-boy,
And he has shown him ben;

28.
He ga'e the third to the minstrel
That play'd before the King;
And he play'd success to the bonny boy
Came thro' the wood him lane.

29.
Now when he came before the King,
Fell low down on his knee;
The King he turned round about,
And the saut tear blinded his e'e.

30.
'Win up, win up, my bonny boy,
Gang frae my companie;
Ye look sae like my dear daughter,
My heart will birst in three.'

31.
'If I look like your dear daughter,
A wonder it is none;
If I look like your dear daughter,
I am her eldest son.'

32.
'Will ye tell me, ye little wee boy,
Where may my Margaret be?'
'She's just now standing at your yates,
And my six brithers her wi'.'

33.
'O where are all my porter-boys
That I pay meat and fee,
To open my yates baith wide and braid?
Let her come in to me.'

34.
When she came in before the King,
Fell low down on her knee;
'Win up, win up, my daughter dear,
This day ye'll dine wi' me.'

35.
'Ae bit I canno eat, father,
Nor ae drop can I drink,
Till I see my mither and sister dear,
For lang for them I think!'

36.
When she came before the queen,
Fell low down on her knee;
'Win up, win up, my daughter dear,
This day ye'se dine wi' me.'

37.
'Ae bit I canno eat, mither,
Nor ae drop can I drink,
Until I see my dear sister,
For lang for her I think.'

38.
When that these two sisters met,
She hail'd her courteouslie;
'Come ben, come ben, my sister dear,
This day ye'se dine wi' me.'

39.
'Ae bit I canno eat, sister,
Nor ae drop can I drink,
Until I see my dear husband,
For lang for him I think.'

40.
'O where are all my rangers bold
That I pay meat and fee,
To search the forest far an' wide,
And bring Akin to me?'

41.
Out it speaks the little wee boy:
'Na, na, this maunna be;
Without ye grant a free pardon,
I hope ye'll nae him see!'

42.
'O here I grant a free pardon,
Well seal'd by my own han';
Ye may make search for Young Akin,
As soon as ever you can.'

43.
They search'd the country wide and braid,
The forests far and near,
And found him into Elmond's wood,
Tearing his yellow hair.

44.
'Win up, win up now, Young Akin,
Win up and boun wi' me;
We're messengers come from the court,
The king wants you to see.'

45.
'O lat him take frae me my head,
Or hang me on a tree;
For since I've lost my dear lady,
Life's no pleasure to me.'

46.
'Your head will nae be touch'd, Akin,
Nor hang'd upon a tree;
Your lady's in her father's court,
And all he wants is thee.'

47.
When he came in before the King,
Fell low down on his knee:
'Win up, win up now, Young Akin,
This day ye'se dine wi' me.'

48.
But as they were at dinner set,
The boy asked a boun:
'I wish we were in the good church,
For to get christendoun.

49.
'We hae lived in guid green wood
This seven years and ane;
But a' this time, since e'er I mind,
Was never a church within.'

50.
'Your asking's nae sae great, my boy,
But granted it shall be:
This day to guid church ye shall gang,
And your mither shall gang you wi'.'

51.
When she came unto the guid church,
She at the door did stan';
She was sae sair sunk down wi' shame,
She couldna come farer ben.

52.
Then out it speaks the parish priest,
And a sweet smile ga'e he:
'Come ben, come ben, my lily-flower,
Present your babes to me.'

53.
Charles, Vincent, Sam and Dick,
And likewise James and John;
They call'd the eldest Young Akin,
Which was his father's name.

54.
Then they staid in the royal court,
And liv'd wi' mirth and glee,
And when her father was deceas'd,
Heir of the crown was she.

[Annotations:
4.4: 'spier,' ask.
14.4: 'stown,' stolen.
21.4: 'my lane,' by myself. Cp. 26.4.
23.2: 'stratlins,' strayings.
44.2: 'boun,' go.]

THE UNQUIET GRAVE

+The Text+ is that communicated to the _Folklore Record_ (vol. i. p. 60) by Miss Charlotte Latham, as it was written down from recitation by a girl in Sussex (1868).

+The Story+ is so simple, and so reminiscent of other ballads, that we must suppose this version to be but a fragment of some forgotten ballad. Its chief interest lies in the setting forth of a common popular belief, namely, that excessive grief for the dead 'will not let them sleep.' Cp. Tibullus, Lib. 1. Eleg. 1, lines 67, 68:--

'Tu Manes ne laede meos: sed parce solutis
Crinibus, et teneris, Delia, parce genis.'

The same belief is recorded in Germany, Scandinavia, India, Persia, and ancient Greece, as well as in England and Scotland (see Sir Walter Scott, _Red-gauntlet_, letter xi., note 2).

There is a version of this ballad beginning--

'Proud Boreas makes a hideous noise.'

It is almost needless to add that this is from Buchan's manuscripts.

THE UNQUIET GRAVE

1.
'The wind doth blow today, my love,
And a few small drops of rain;
I never had but one true love,
In cold grave she was lain.

2.
'I'll do as much for my true love
As any young man may;
I'll sit and mourn all at her grave
For a twelvemonth and a day.'

3.
The twelvemonth and a day being up,
The dead began to speak:
'Oh who sits weeping on my grave,
And will not let me sleep?'

4.
''Tis I, my love, sits on your grave,
And will not let you sleep;
For I crave one kiss of your clay-cold lips,
And that is all I seek.'

5.
'You crave one kiss of my clay-cold lips;
But my breath smells earthy strong;
If you have one kiss of my clay-cold lips,
Your time will not be long.

6.
''Tis down in yonder garden green,
Love, where we used to walk;
The finest flower that ere was seen
Is withered to a stalk.

7.
'The stalk is withered dry, my love,
So will our hearts decay;
So make yourself content, my love,
Till God calls you away.'

[Annotations:
5.3,4: Cp. _Clerk Sanders_, 30.3,4
6.3: 'ere' = e'er.]

CLERK COLVEN

+The Text.+--This ballad was one of two transcribed from the now lost Tytler-Brown MS., and the transcript is given here. A considerable portion of the story is lost between stanzas 6 and 7.

+The Story+ in its full form is found in a German poem of the twelfth or thirteenth century (_Der Ritter von Stauffenberg_) as well as in many Scandinavian ballads.

In the German tale, the fairy bound the knight to marry no one; on that condition she would come to him whenever he wished, if he were alone, and would bestow endless gifts upon him: if ever he did marry, he would die within three days. Eventually he was forced to marry, and died as he had been warned.

In seventy Scandinavian ballads, the story remains much the same. The hero's name is Oluf or Ole, or some modification of this, of which 'Colvill,' or 'Colven,' as we have it here, is the English equivalent. Oluf, riding out, is accosted by elves or dwarfs, and one of them asks him to dance with her. If he will, a gift is offered; if he will not, a threat is made. Gifts and threats naturally vary in different versions. He attempts to escape, is struck or stabbed fatally, and rides home and dies. His bride is for some time kept in ignorance of his death by various shifts, but at last discovers the truth, and her heart breaks. Oluf's mother dies also.

It will be seen from this account how much is lost in our ballad. But it is evident that Clerk Colven's lady has heard of his previous acquaintance with the mermaiden. This point survives only in four Färöe ballads out of the seventy Scandinavian versions.

The story is also found in French, Breton, Spanish, etc.

CLERK COLVEN

1.
Clark Colven and his gay ladie,
As they walked to yon garden green,
A belt about her middle gimp,
Which cost Clark Colven crowns fifteen:

2.
'O hearken weel now, my good lord,
O hearken weel to what I say;
When ye gang to the wall o' Stream,
O gang nae neer the well-fared may.'

3.
'O haud your tongue, my gay ladie,
Tak nae sic care o' me;
For I nae saw a fair woman
I like so well as thee.'

4.
He mounted on his berry-brown steed,
And merry, merry rade he on,
Till he came to the wall o' Stream,
And there he saw the mermaiden.

5.
'Ye wash, ye wash, ye bonny may,
And ay's ye wash your sark o' silk':
'It's a' for you, ye gentle knight,
My skin is whiter than the milk.'

6.
He's ta'en her by the milk-white hand,
He's ta'en her by the sleeve sae green,
And he's forgotten his gay ladie,
And away with the fair maiden.

*** *** ***

7.
'Ohon, alas!' says Clark Colven,
'And aye sae sair's I mean my head!'
And merrily leugh the mermaiden,
'O win on till you be dead.

8.
'But out ye tak your little pen-knife,
And frae my sark ye shear a gare;
Row that about your lovely head,
And the pain ye'll never feel nae mair.'

9.
Out he has ta'en his little pen-knife,
And frae her sark he's shorn a gare,
Rowed that about his lovely head,
But the pain increased mair and mair.

10.
'Ohon, alas!' says Clark Colven,
'An' aye sae sair's I mean my head!'
And merrily laugh'd the mermaiden,
'It will ay be war till ye be dead.'

11.
Then out he drew his trusty blade,
And thought wi' it to be her dead,
But she's become a fish again,
And merrily sprang into the fleed.

12.
He's mounted on his berry-brown steed,
And dowy, dowy rade he home,
And heavily, heavily lighted down
When to his ladie's bower-door he came.

13.
'Oh, mither, mither, mak my bed,
And, gentle ladie, lay me down;
Oh, brither, brither, unbend my bow,
'Twill never be bent by me again.'

14.
His mither she has made his bed,
His gentle ladie laid him down,
His brither he has unbent his bow,
'Twas never bent by him again.

[Annotations:
1.3: 'gimp,' slender.
2.4: 'well-fared may,' well-favoured maiden.
7.3: 'leugh,' laughed.
8.2: 'gare,' strip. See First Series, Introduction, p. 1.
8.3: 'Row,' roll, bind.
10.4: 'war,' worse.
11.4: 'fleed,' flood.
12.2: 'dowy,' sad.]

TAM LIN

=all' ê toi prôtista leôn genet' êugeneios,
autar epeita drakôn kai pardalis êde megas sus;
gigneto d' hugron hudôr kai dendreon hupsipetêlon.=

_Odyssey_, IV. 456-8.

+The Text+ here given is from Johnson's _Museum_, communicated by Burns. Scott's version (1802), _The Young Tamlane_, contained certain verses, 'obtained from a gentleman residing near Langholm, which are said to be very ancient, though the language is somewhat of a modern cast.' --'Of a grossly modern invention,' says Child, 'and as unlike popular verse as anything can be.' Here is a specimen:--

'They sing, inspired with love and joy,
Like skylarks in the air;
Of solid sense, or thought that's grave,
You'll find no traces there.'

A copy in the Glenriddell MSS. corresponds very closely with the one here printed, doubtless owing to Burns's friendship with Riddell. Both probably were derived from one common source.

+The Story.+--Although the ballad as it stands is purely Scottish, its main feature, the retransformation of Tam Lin, is found in popular mythology even before Homer's time.

A Cretan ballad, taken down about 1820-30, relates that a young peasant, falling in love with a nereid, was advised by an old woman to seize his beloved by the hair just before cock-crow, and hold her fast, whatever transformation she might undergo. He did so; the nymph became in turn a dog, a snake, a camel, and fire. In spite of all, he retained his hold; and at the next crowing of the cock she regained her beauty, and accompanied him home. After a year, in which she spoke no word, she bore a son. The peasant again applied to the old woman for a cure, and was advised to tell his wife that if she would not speak, he would throw the baby into the oven. On his carrying out the old woman's suggestion the nereid cried out, 'Let go my child, dog!' tore her baby from him, and vanished.