Chapter II: Part 2

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

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

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

+Briar.+

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

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

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

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

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

+Pin.+

'thrilled upon a pin,' _Glasgerion_, 10.2.

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

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

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

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

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

+Sword.+

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

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

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

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

+Miscellaneous.+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

LIST OF BOOKS FOR BALLAD STUDY FOR ENGLISH READERS

A.--The Literary History of Ballads

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

1861. _David Irving._ History of Scottish Poetry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1898. _Andrew Lang_ in _Quarterly Review_ for July.

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

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

1903. _Andrew Lang_ in _Folk-Lore_ for June.

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

B.--Collections of Ballads

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1834. The Universal Songster. 3 vols. London.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NOTE ON THE ILLUSTRATIONS

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

GLASGERION

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

--Chaucer, _Hous of Fame_, III.

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

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

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

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

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

GLASGERION

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

YOUNG BEKIE

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

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

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

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

YOUNG BEKIE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OLD ROBIN OF PORTINGALE

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

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

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

OLD ROBIN OF PORTINGALE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

LITTLE MUSGRAVE AND LADY BARNARD

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

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

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

LITTLE MUSGRAVE AND LADY BARNARD

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE BONNY BIRDY

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

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

THE BONNY BIRDY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FAIR ANNIE

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

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

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

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

FAIR ANNIE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE CRUEL MOTHER

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

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

In a small group of ballads, the penknife appears to be the ideal weapon for murder or suicide. See the _Twa Brothers_ and the _Bonny Hind_.

THE CRUEL MOTHER

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHILD WATERS

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

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

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

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

CHILD WATERS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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