Chapter II (1)

If we except the Pastorales, the whole of Basque poetry may be described as lyrical; either secular, as songs, or religious, as hymns and noëls. There is no epic in Basque, [190] and scarcely any narrative ballads; even those chiefly are of uncertain date. A few sonnets exist, but they are almost exclusively translations or imitations of French, Spanish, or classical poems, and cannot be considered as genuine productions of the Basque muse. Some of the religious poetry may be described as didactic, but this again is mostly paraphrase or translation. All that is really native is lyrical. But even in song the Basques show no remarkable poetical merit. The extreme facility with which the language lends itself to rhyming desinence has a most injurious effect upon versification. There are not verses only, but whole poems, in which each line terminates with the same desinence. Instead of striving after that perfection of form which the change of a single word or even letter would affect injuriously, the Basques are too often satisfied with this mere rhyme. Their compositions, too, if published at all, are usually printed only on single sheets of paper, easily dispersed and soon lost. Hence the preservation of Basque poetry is entrusted mainly to the memory, and thus it happens that one scarcely meets with two copies of the same song exactly alike. If the memory fails, the missing words and rhymes are so easily supplied by others that it is not worth the effort to recall the precise expression used. And so it comes to pass that, while versification is very common among the Basques, high-class poetry is extremely rare. They have no song writers to compare with Burns or with Béranger. And if it be alleged that poets like these are rare, even among people far more numerous and more cultivated, the Basques still fall short, when measured by a much lower standard. They have no poets to rival the Gascon, Jasmin, or to compare with the Provençal or the Catalan singers at the other end of the Pyrenean chain. There is no modern Basque song which can be placed by the side of "Le Demiselle" and others of the Biarritz poet, Justin Larrebat; and among the older poets neither Dechepare nor Oyhenart is equal to the Béarnais, Despourrins. While the Jacobite songs of Scotland are among the finest productions of her lyric muse, the Carlist songs, on the contrary, though telling of an equally brave and romantic struggle, are one and all below mediocrity. But, while fully admitting this, there is yet much that is pleasing in Basque poetry. If it has no great merits, it is still free from any very gross defects. It is always true and manly, and completely free from affectation. It is seldom forced, and the singer sings just because it pleases him to do so, not to satisfy a craving vanity or to strain after the name and fame of a poet. The moral tone is almost always good. If at times, as in the drinking songs, and in some few of the amatory, the expression is free and outspoken, vice is never glossed over or covered with a false sentimentality. The Basque is never mawkish or equivocal--with him right is right, and wrong is wrong, and Basque poetry leaves no unpleasant after-taste behind. [191]

The only peculiarity, in a poetical sense, is the extreme fondness for, and frequent employment of, allegory. In the love songs the fair one is constantly addressed under some allegorical disguise. It is a star the lover admires, or it is the nightingale who bewails his sad lot. The loved one is a flower, or a heifer, a dove or a quail, a pomegranate or an apple, figures common to the poets of other countries; but the Basques, even the rudest of them, never confuse these metaphors, as more famous poets sometimes do--the allegory is ever consistently maintained throughout. Even in prose they are accustomed to this use of allegory, and catch up the slightest allusion to it; but to others it often renders their poetry obscure, and very difficult of successful translation. The stranger is in doubt whether a given poem is really meant only for a description of the habits of the nightingale, or whether the bird is a pseudonym for the poet or the poet's mistress. Curiously enough, sometimes educated Basques seem to have almost as much difficulty in seizing this allegory as have foreigners. Thus, in a work now in course of publication, [192] one of the most famous of these allegorical complaints is actually taken for a poetical description of the nightingale itself.

The historical songs, like all other historical remains among the Basques, are few and doubtful. There are two songs, however, for which are claimed a greater historical importance and a higher antiquity than any others can pretend to. These are the so-called "Leloaren Cantua" and the "Altabiskarco Cantua." Both these are reputed by some writers to be almost contemporaneous with the events which they relate. The first is said to be founded on the wars of the Roman Emperor Augustus with the Cantabri; the second is an account of the defeat of Charlemagne's rearguard at Roncesvalles, A.D. 778. The former may be some three hundred years old, but the latter is certainly a production of the nineteenth century, though none the less it is the most spirited offspring of the Basque muse. We will give the text and translation of each, and then justify our conclusions.

LELOAREN CANTUA. SONG OF LELO.

1. 1.

lelo. yl lelo; Lelo, dead (is) Lelo;
lelo. yl lelo; Lelo, dead (is) Lelo;
leloa çarat [193] Lelo, Zara (?) [193]
il leloa. Killed Lelo.

2. 2.

Romaco armac The arms of Rome
aleguin eta do all they can, and
Vizcayac daroa Biscay raises
Zanzoa. The song of war.

3. 3.

Octabiano Octavianus,
munduco jauna Of the world lord,
le coby di [193] Lecobidi (?) [193]
Vizcayocoa. of Biscay.

4. 4.

Ichasotati By sea
eta leorres and by land
y mini deusco he has placed us
molsoa. the siege.

5. 5.

leor celayac The dry plains
bereac dira are theirs;
menditan tayac the high mountains,
leusoac. the caverns (are ours).

6. 6.

lecu yronyan In favourable ground
gagozanyan when we are,
nocbera sendo each one firm
daugogoa. has heart (?)

7. 7.

bildurric guichi Little fear
armabardinas (with) equal arms,
oramayasu (but) our kneading-trough
guexoa. (goes) ill.

8. 8.

Soyacgogorrac Hard corselets
badyri tuys wear they;
narrubiloxa Bare body;
surboa. (more) agility (?)

9. 9.

bost urteco For five years,
egun gabean by day, by night,
gueldi bagaric without ceasing,
pochoa. (lasts) the siege (?)

10. 10.

gurecobata One of ours
ylbadaguyan when he is dead,
bost amarren five tens
galdoa. they lose (?)

11. 11.

aecanista They many and
gue guichitaya we few (?)
asqugudugu at last we have made
lalboa. the peace.

12. 12.

gueurelurrean In our land
ta aen errian and in his village
biroch ainbaten are tied in the same way
zamoa. the loads (of wood).

13. 13.

Ecin gueyago (It is) impossible more.

(The rest of this
verse is lost through
a rent in the paper.)

14. 14.

tiber lecua Tiber the place
gueldico zabal remains broad (?)
Uchin tamayo Uchin Tamayo (?)
grandoya. very large.

15.

(Torn.)

16. 16.

andiaristac The great oaks
gueisto syndoas yield
beticonayas to the constant strokes
narraca. (of) the woodpecker.

The history of the above song is as follows: At the close of the sixteenth century a notary of Zornoza, J. Iñiguez de Ibargüen, was commissioned by the Junta of Biscay to search the principal libraries of Spain for documents relating to the Basques. In the archives of Simancas he discovered an ancient MS. on parchment, containing verses in Basque, some almost, others wholly obliterated. Of these he copied what he could, and inserted them in p. 71 of his "Cronica general de España y sumaria de Vizcaya," a work which still exists in manuscript in the town of Marquina. From this history of Ibargüen the song was first reproduced by the celebrated Wilhelm von Humboldt, and published by him in 1817 in a supplement to Vater's "Mithridates." The text above given is taken from that of the "Cancionero Vasco," Series 2, iii., pp. 18, 20, and claims to be a new and literal copy from the MS. "Cronica" of Ibargüen. From the date of its publication by Humboldt, this piece has been the subject of much discussion. That it is one of the oldest fragments of Basque poetry hardly admits of doubt. But, when asked to believe that it is contemporary with Augustus, we must hesitate. The question arises: Did Ibargüen copy the almost defaced original exactly as it was, or did he suffer his declared predilections unconsciously to influence his reading of it? [194] Many of the words are still very obscure, and the translation of them is almost guess work. The first verse has little or no apparent connection with the rest of the poem, and has given rise to the most fanciful interpretations. Lelo has been imagined by some to be the name of a Basque hero; Zara, or Zarat, who kills him, the name of another; and the two reproduce the story of Agamemnon and Ægisthus. Others, with more probability, take Lelo, as is certainly the case in other poems, for a mere refrain (the everlasting Lelo, as a Basque proverb has it) used by the singer merely to give the key to the tune or rhythm to which he modulates the rest. Chaho, with his usual audacity, would translate it "glory," and render it thus:--

Finished is the glory! dead is the glory,
Our glory!
Old age has killed the glory,
Our glory!

But it has been very plausibly suggested [195] that the verse bears a suspicious likeness to a vague reminiscence of the Moslem cry "Lâ Êlah Ulâ Allah!" &c.; and if so, this, in the north of Spain, would at one bound place the poem some eight centuries at least after the time of Augustus. The proper names have a too correct look. Octabiano, Roma, and Tiber are far too much like the Latin; for if Greeks and Romans complained, as do Strabo and Mela, of the difficulty of transcribing Basque or Iberian names into their own language, the Basques might possibly find a somewhat corresponding difficulty in transcribing Greek and Latin names into Basque. Moreover, in a later verse appears "Uchin," a sobriquet for "Augustino," as a baptismal name in use among the Spanish Basques to this day. What the poem really refers to we dare not assert. We present the "Leloaren Cantua" to our readers simply as one of the oldest curiosities of Basque verse, without pledging ourselves to any particular date or interpretation thereof.

Fortunately, we shall be able to speak with much more decision of the "Altabiskarco Cantua," of which the following is the latest text:--

ALTABISKARCO CANTUA.

1.

Oyhu bat aditua izan da
Escualdunen mendien artetic,
Eta etcheco jaunac, bere athearen aitcinean chutic
Ideki tu beharriac, eta erran du: "Nor da hor? Cer nahi dautet?"
Eta chacurra, bere nausiaren oinetan lo zagüena,
Altchatu da, eta karrasiz Altabiscarren inguruac bethe ditu.

2.

Ibañetaren lepoan harabotz bat aghertcen da,
Urbiltcen da, arrokac ezker eta ezcuin jotcen dituelaric;
Hori da urrundic heldu den armada baten burrumba.
Mendien copetetaric guriec errespuesta eman diote;
Beren tuten soinua adiaraci dute,
Eta etcheco jaunac bere dardac zorrozten tu.

3.

Heldu dira! heldu dira! cer lantzazco sasia!
Nola cer nahi colorezco banderac heien erdian aghertcen diren
Cer simistac atheratcen diren heien armetaric!
Cembat dira? Haurra condatzic onghi!
Bat, biga, hirur, laur, bortz, sei, zazpi, zortzi, bederatzi,
hamar, hameca, hamabi,
Hamahirur, hamalaur, hamabortz, hamasei, hamazazpi, hemezortzi,
hemeretzi, hogoi.

4.

Hogoi eta milaca oraino!
Heien condatcea demboraren galtcea liteque.
Urbilditzagun gure beso zailac, errotic athera ditzagun arroca
horiec,
Botha ditzagun mendiaren patarra behera
Hein buruen gaineraino;
Leher ditzagun, herioz jo ditzagun.

5.

Cer nahi zuten gure mendietaric Norteco guizon horiec?
Certaco jin dira gure bakearen nahastera?
Jaungoicoac mendiac eguin dituenean nahi izan du hec guizonec ez
pasatcea.
Bainan arrokac biribilcolica erortcen dira, tropac lehertcen
dituzte.
Odola churrutan badoa, haraghi puscac dardaran daude.
Oh! cembat hezur carrascatuac! cer odolezco itsasoa!

6.

Escapa! escapa! indar eta zaldi dituzeneac!
Escapa hadi, Carlomano erreghe, hire luma beltzekin eta hire
capa gorriarekin;
Hire iloba maitea, Errolan zangarra, hantchet hila dago;
Bere zangartasuna beretaco ez tu izan.
Eta orai, Escualdunac, utz ditzagun arroca horiec,
Jauts ghiten fite, igor ditzagun gure dardac escapatcen direnen
contra.

7.

Badoazi! badoazi! non da bada lantzazco sasi hura?
Non dira heien erdian agheri ciren cer nahi colorezco bandera hec?
Ez da gheiago simiztarik atheratcen heien arma odolez bethetaric.
Cembat dira? Haurra, condatzac onghi.
Hogoi, hemeretzi, hemezortzi, hamazazpi, hamasei, hamabortz,
hamalaur, hamairur,
Hamabi, hameca, hamar, bederatzi, zortzi, zazpi, sei, bortz, laur,
hirur biga, bat.

8.

Bat! ez da bihiric aghertcen gheiago. Akhabo da!
Etcheco jauna, joaiten ahal zira zure chacurrarekin,
Zure emaztearen eta zure haurren besarcatcera,
Zure darden garbitcera eta alchatcera zure tutekin,
Eta ghero heien gainean etzatera eta lo gitera.
Gabaz, arranoac joainen dira haraghi pusca lehertu horien jatera,
Eta hezur horiec oro churituco dira eternitatean.

SONG OF ALTABISCAR.

1.

A cry is heard
From the Basque mountain's midst.
Etcheco Jauna, [196] at his door erect,
Listens, and cries, "What want they? Who goes there?"
At his lord's feet the dog that sleeping lay
Starts up, his bark fills Altabiscar [197] round.

2.

Through Ibañeta's* pass the noise resounds,
Striking the rocks on right and left it comes;
'Tis the dull murmur of a host from far,
From off the mountain heights our men reply,
Sounding aloud the signal of their horns;
Etcheco Jauna whets his arrows then.

3.

They come! They come! See, what a wood of spears
What flags of myriad tints float in the midst!
What lightning-flashes glance from off their arms!
How many be they? Count them well, my child.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12,
13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20.

4.

Twenty, and thousands more!
'Twere but lost time to count.
Our sinewy arms unite, tear up the rocks,
Swift from the mountain tops we hurl them down
Right on their heads,
And crush, and slay them all.

5.

What would they in our hills, these Northern men?
Why come they here our quiet to disturb?
God made the hills intending none should pass.
Down fall the rolling rocks, the troops they crush!
Streams the red blood! Quivers the mangled flesh!
Oh! what a sea of blood! What shattered bones!

6.

Fly, to whom strength remaineth and a horse!
Fly, Carloman, red cloak and raven plumes!
Lies thy stout nephew, Roland, stark in death;
For him his brilliant courage naught avails.
And, now, ye Basques, leaving awhile these rocks,
Down on the flying foe your arrows shower!

7.

They run! They run! Where now that wood of spears?
Where the gay flags that flaunted in their midst?
Rays from their bloodstained arms no longer flash!
How many are they? Count them well, my child.
20, 19, 18, 17, 16, 15, 14, 13,
12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

8.

One! There is left not one. 'Tis o'er!
Etcheco Jauna home with thy dog retire.
Embrace thy wife and child,
Thine arrows clean, and stow them with thine horn;
And then, lie down and sleep thereon.
At night yon mangled flesh shall eagles [198] eat,
And to eternity those bones shall bleach.

(This translation is due to the kindness of a friend.)

The history of this song is very curious, and shows the little value of subjective criticism in any but the most competent hands. The MS. of it is alleged to have been found on the 5th of August, 1794, in a convent at Fuenterrabia, by La Tour d'Auvergne, the celebrated "premier grenadier" of the French Army. It was printed about the year 1835, by Monglave, and accepted as a genuine contemporary document by Fauriel, Chaho, Cenac-Moncaut, and many other French writers; by Lafuente, Amador de los Rios, and other Spanish authors; by Araquistain, and by the Editors of the "Revista Euskara" and of the "Cancionero Vasco" among the Basques. It is needless to say that all guide-books, tourist sketches, et hoc genus omne, have adopted it. It was inserted as genuine by Fr. Michel, in the Gentleman's Magazine, in 1858, and in more recent years a translation appeared in another London magazine. In the "Basques et Navarrais" of M. Louis Lande, lately published, it is alluded to as genuine; and the Saturday Review of the 17th of August, 1878, quotes it as a corroboration of the "Chanson de Roland." [199] There have been some, however, who have stoutly opposed these claims; among them M. Barry, of Toulouse, M. Gaston Paris, and M. J. F. Blade, which last writer, both in a separate pamphlet and in his "Études sur l'Origine des Basques" (Paris, 1859), has shown from internal grounds its want of authenticity. M. Alexandre Dihinx, a Basque, in a series of articles in the Impartial, of Bayonne, for 1873, which have since been reprinted by M. J. Vinson, in L'Avenir, of Bayonne, May of the present year, conclusively proved both the incorrectness and the modern character of its Basque. But all these authors seem either to have been unaware of, or to have unaccountably overlooked, the true history of the piece. When M. Fr. Michel published this, and another song called "Abarcaren Cantua," in the Gentleman's Magazine, in 1858, as specimens of ancient Basque poetry, a letter from M. Antoine d'Abbadie, Membre de l'Institut, appeared forthwith in the number for March, 1859, stating that the Abarca song had actually been among the unsuccessful pieces submitted for the prize in the poetical competition at Urrugne, of the previous August; and he adds:--

"I am sorry that the Altabiscarraco cantua, mentioned in your
same number, is acknowledged as a gem of ancient popular poetry.
Truth compels me to deny that it is universally admitted as such,
for one of my Basque neighbours has often named the person who,
about twenty four years ago, composed it in French, and the other
person, who translated it into modern but indifferent Basque. [200]
The latter idiom, on purely philological ground, stands peerless
among the most ancient languages in Europe, and I have felt it my
duty to disclaim unfounded pretensions of which it has no
need.--I am, etc.,

"Antoine d'Abbadie,

"London, Jan. 31, 1859."
Correspond. de l'Institut de France.

In the next number M. Fr. Michel writes, "henceforth I will believe that the songs called Abarcaren Cantua and Altabiscarraco Cantua are forgeries"; this testimony is decisive. It has often been repeated by M. d'Abbadie, with the additional assurance that he knows not only the house, but the very room in which the song was first composed. That the language is modern and indifferent Basque is very evident in the text given by M. Fr. Michel in "Le Pays Basque, Paris, 1857." That above, taken from the "Cancionero Vasco" of the present year, is considerably corrected and improved. All attempts, and many efforts have been made, to force these irregular lines into any known form of Basque rhythm have hitherto signally failed. For the amusement of some of our readers we give below a list of the more evident foreign words in this and in the "Leloaren Cantua." The relative antiquity will thus be seen at a glance:--

L, Latin; S, Spanish; F, French; G, German words.

SONG OF LELO.

Romako Roma L
Armac arma L
Octabiano Octavianus L
Munduco mundus L
Lecu (?) locus L
Tiber Tiber L
Grandoya / grandis L
\ grandioso S

SONG OF ALTABISCAR.

Copetetaric (?) caput L
Armada armada S
Errespuesta respuesta S
Dardac dard F
Colorezco color S
Banderac bandera S
Simistac / quimista S
| chimiste F
\ both from Arabic
Tropac tropa S
Arroca roca S
Escapa escapar S
Carlomano Karlomann G
Errolan Roland F
Erreghe rex, rege L
Luma [201] (?) pluma S
Fite vite F
Capa capa S
Condatcea contar S
Milaca / mille L
\ mil S
Demboraren tempus tempora L
Norteco norte S
Pasatcea pasar S
Contra contra L
Lantzazco lanza S
Akhabo acabar S
Besarcatcera besar S
Eternitatean eternidad S

With reference to the above list we may observe that the Basque never begins a word with r, but always prefixes a euphonic er, ar, ir; hence er-respuesta, ar-roca, Er-rolan, er-rege, hir-risko, risque, F. In later copies editors have altered "Romaco," in the "Song of Lelo," into "Er-romaco," to give it more of a Basque look. Aren, or aen, eco-aco-co are case terminations; tcea-cea marks the verbal noun. Carlomann was never the name of Charlemagne, but of his brother and his uncle. Er-rolan is evidently from the French Roland; neither from the Hruotlandus of Einhardus, nor from the Spanish Roldan. Defenders of the authenticity of the piece allege that these words are only corruptions, introduced in the course of ages; but our readers can judge for themselves how far they enter into the very structure of the composition.

The first book printed in Basque, the "Linguæ Vasconum Primitiæ, per Dominum Bernardum Echepare" (Bordeaux, 1545), is a collection of his poems, religious and amatory, the latter predominating. Echepare was the parish priest of the pretty little village of St. Michel, on the Béhérobie Nive, above St. Jean Pied de Port; and, if Nature alone could inspire a poet, he ought at least to have rivalled those of our own English Lakes. But, in truth, his verses are of scant poetical merit, and of little interest save as a philological curiosity. [202] They belong so distinctly to that irritating mediocrity which never can be excused in a poet. After Echepare the next author is Arnauld Oyhenart, of Mauléon, who published a collection of his youthful Basque poems in Paris, 1657. These have, if anything, less poetical value than Echepare's; but Oyhenart's collection of proverbs and his "Notitia Utriusque Vasconiæ" will always make his name stand high among Basque writers. Except hymns and noëls (Christmas carols), of which many collections and editions have been published from 1630 downwards, and some of which are noteworthy on account of higher than mere poetical merit, the deep and evidently genuine spirit of piety they evince, [203] little else is preserved much older than the present century. One ballad indeed there is, "The Betrothed of Tardetz," which may be somewhat older. No two versions of it are exactly alike, though the outline of the story is always the same. The Lord of the Castle of Tardetz wishes to give the elder of his two daughters in marriage to the King of Hungary, or of Portugal, as some have it. But the lady's heart has been already won by Sala, the son of the miller of Tardetz, and she bitterly bewails being "sold like a heifer." The bells which ring for her wedding will soon toll for her funeral. The romance in its present form is evidently incomplete, but apparently ended with the corpse of the bride being brought back to her father's castle.

Most of the Basque songs, except the drinking ones, are set, more or less, in a minor key. The majority of the love songs would have been described by our forefathers as "complaints." One of the prettiest, both in words and music, is the fragment entitled "The Hermitage of St. Joseph":--

1. 1.

Chorittua, nurat hua Little bird, where goest thou
Bi hegalez airian? On thy two wings in the air?
Españalat juaiteko To Spain to go,
Elhürra dük borthian: The snow is on the passes:
Juanen gütük alkharreki We will go together
Hura hurtü denian. When the snow is melted.

2. 2.

San-Josefan ermita The Hermitage of Saint Joseph
Desertian gora da; Is high in the desert
Españalat juaitian. In going to Spain.
Han da ene phausada; There is my resting-place,
Guibelilat so' gin eta There have I looked behind, and
Hasperena ardüra! The sigh is frequent.

3. 3.

Hasperena, habilua Sigh, go
Maitenaren borthala: To the door of my beloved.
Habil, eta erran izok Go, and tell her
Nik igorten haidala; It is I who send you:
Bihotzian sar hakio Enter into her heart,
Hura eni bezala. As she (is) in mine. [204]

The songs of the Agots, or Cagots, those Pariahs of the Pyrénées, who dwelt apart shunned and despised by all, are, as might be expected, uniformly sad. The misery of the labourer's lot, and even of that of the contrabandista, is more frequently dwelt upon than the compensations to the poverty of the one, or the transient gleams of good fortune of the other. At least, such is the case in all those which are really songs of the people. In these there are not many delights of "life under the greenwood tree," as in Robin Hood, or our factitious gipsies' songs. The forest is an object of dread to the Basque poet, and it requires courage and all the powerful attraction of a loved one to induce him to traverse by night its gloomy shades; but then--

Mortu, oihan illuna Deserts and forests dark
Deusere ez da neretzat. They are then nought to me.

The following is an illustration of the Cagots' or Agots' songs. This piece, of which the author was the hero, was written about 1783, when he was eighteen years old. Cf. Fr. Michel, "Les Races Maudites de France et de l'Espagne," vol. ii. p. 150, and "Le Pays Basque," p. 270; and, for the music, Sallaberry, "Chants Populaires du Pays Basque," p. 172. [205]

1.

--Argi askorrian jinik ene arresekila,
Bethi beha entzün nahiz numbaitik zure botza;
Ardiak nun ützi tüzü? Zerentako errada
Nigarrez ikhusten deizüt zure begi ederra?

2.

--Ene aitaren ichilik jin nüzü zure gana,
Bihotza erdiratürik, zihauri erraitera,
Khambiatü deitadala ardien alhagia,
Sekülakoz defendatü zureki minzatzia.

3.

--Gor niza, ala entzün düt? erran deitadazia?
Sekülakoz jin zaiztala adio erraitera?
Etziradia orhitzen gük hitz eman dügüla
Lürrian bizi gireno alkharren maithtzia?

4.

--Atzo nurbait izan düzü ene ait' ametara,
Gük alkhar maite dügüla haien abertitzera;
Hürüntaaztez alkhar ganik fite ditin lehia
Eta eztitian jünta kasta Agotarekila.

5.

--Agotak badiadila badizüt entzütia;
Zük erraiten deitadazüt ni ere banizala:
Egündano ükhen banü demendren leiñhüria
Enündüzün ausartüren begila so' gitera.

6.

--Jentetan den ederrena ümen düzü Agota:
Bilho holli, larrü churi eta begi ñabarra.
Nik ikhusi artzaiñetan zü zira ederrena:
Eder izateko aments Agot izan behar da?

7.

--So' izü nuntik ezagützen dien zuiñ den Agota:
Lehen sua egiten zaio hari beharriala;
Bata handiago dizü, eta aldiz bestia
Biribil et' orotarik bilhoz üngüratia.

8.

--Hori hala balimbada haietarik etzira,
Ezi zure beharriak alkhar üdüri dira.
Agot denak chipiago badü beharri bata,
Aitari erranen diot biak bardin tuzüla.

9.

--Agot denak bürüa aphal, eta dizü begia
Lürrean bethi sarturik gaizki egüinak bezala.
Izan banintz ni aberatz zü zira din bezala,
Aitak etzeyzün erranen ni Agobat nizala.

1.

Since daybreak arrived here with my flock,
Always listening, wishing to hear somewhere thy voice.
Where have you left the sheep? Whence is it
I see your beautiful eye full of tears?

2.

Unknown to my father I have come towards you,
Heart-broken, to tell you yourself
That he has changed for me the sheep-pasture,
Forbidden me for ever speaking with you.

3.

Am I deaf, or have I heard it? Did you say it?
That you are come to bid farewell for ever?
Do you not remember that we have given our word
To love each other as long as we live upon the earth?

4.

Yesterday some one came to my father and mother
To warn them that we loved each other;
That they should hasten at once to separate us from each other,
And that they should not ally themselves with the Agots' caste.

5.

That there are Agots I have heard tell;
You tell me, too, that I am of them!
If I had ever had only the shadow of them,
I had not had the boldness to lift my eyes to you.

6.

Of all men, they say, the Agot is the handsomest;
Fair hair, white skin, and blue eye.
Of the shepherds I have seen you are the handsomest:
In order to be handsome, must one be an Agot?

7.

It is by this one recognises who is an Agot--
One gives the first glance at his ear;
He has one too large, and, as for the other,
It is round and covered all over with hair. [206]

8.

If that is so, you are not of those folk;
For your ears resemble each other perfectly.
If he who is Agot has one of his ears smaller,
I will tell my father you have the two alike.

9.

The Agot walks with his head low, and his eye
Is fixed on the earth like a criminal.
If I had been rich, like you,
Your father would not have said that I was Agot.

There are, too, verses of grim and bitter humour, which tell better than the pen of the historian how wretched was formerly the lot of the peasant, even in this favoured corner of France. Famine is personified, and has a name given it, drawn in biting irony from that of the highest Saint of the Church Calendar, Petiri Sanz (S. Peter). He wanders round the country seeking where to settle permanently; at one place he is driven off by (the sale of) rosin, at another little maize, at another by cheese and cherries; but at last he fixes his abode definitively at St. Pée (another form of Peter), on the Nivelle, where they have nothing at all to sell, and where he torments the inhabitants by forcing them to keep many a fast beyond those of ecclesiastical obligation. The same strain of gloomy humour appears in another form in a poem entitled "Mes Méditations," [207] in which a young priest of Ciboure, slowly dying of consumption, traces in detail all the physical and mental agonies of his approaching dissolution. A much less grim example, however, is contained in the following, which we quote mainly because of its brevity. It may remind some of our readers of a longer but similar strain which used often to be sung at harvest-homes in the Midland Counties:--

DOTE GALDIA. [208] THE LOST DOWRY.

1. 1.

Aitac eman daut dotia, My father has given me my dowry,
Neuria, neuria, neuria; Mine, mine, mine;
Urdeño bat bere cherriekin, A sow with pigs ten,
Oilo corroca bere chituekin, Her chicks with the hen,
Tipula corda hayekin. And of onions a rope to stow by.

2. 2.

Oxuac jan daut urdia, But the wolf has devoured my sow,
Neuria, neuria, neuria; Mine, mine, mine;
Acheriac oilo coroca, My chickens are killed by the cats,
Garratoinac tipula corda; My onions are gnawn by the rats;
Adios ene dotia. Good-bye to my dowry now.

More literally:--

1.

My father has given me the dowry,
Mine, mine, mine;
A sow with her little pigs,
A brood hen with her chickens,
A cord of onions with them.

2.

The wolf has eaten my sow,
Mine, mine, mine;
The fox my brood hen,
The rats my cord of onions,
Good-bye, my dowry.

The lack of good poetry in Basque is certainly not due to want of encouragement. Moreover, the wish to produce it is there, but the power seems lacking. For over twenty years prizes have been annually given, first at Urrugne, and then at Sare, by M. Antoine d'Abbadie, of Abbadia. But among the multitude of competing poems few have been of any real value, and both in merit and in the number presented they seem to diminish annually. The best of them have been written by men of the professional class, whose taste has been formed on French, or Spanish, or classical, rather than on native models. The following is considered by native critics to be among the best, though several others are very little, if at all, inferior [209]:--

ARTZAIN DOHATSUA.

1.

Etchola bat da ene jauregia
Aldean, salhatzal, hariztegia;
Arthalde bat
Halakorik ez baita hambat,
Bazait niri behar besembat.
Ai! etzait itsusi!
Ni naiz etchola huntako nausi

2.

Goiz-arratsak bethi deskantsu ditut,
Deuseren beldurrik nihondik ez dut;
Hemen nago,
Erregue baino fierrago.
Nik zer behar dut gehiago?
Ha! ez da itsusi!
Etchola huntan Piarrez nausi.

3.

Goizetan jaikirik argialdera,
Igortzen ditut ardiak larrera;
Eta gero
Itzalpean jarririk nago,
Nor da ni baino urusago?
Ez! etzait itsusi!
Ni naiz arthalde huntako nausi.

4.

Aitoren semeak gasteluetan,
Bihotzak ilhunik daude goguetan.
Alegera
(Bethi naiz; tristatucera) [210]
Nik ez dut dembora sobera.
Ai! etzait itsusi!
Etcholan nor da ni baizen nausi.

5.

Jan onegiak barnea betherik,
Aberatsak nihoiz ez du goserik;
Eta bethi
Ene trempuaz da bekhaizti;
Diruz ez baitaite erosi.
Ha! ez da itsusi!
Etchola gasteluaren nausi.

6.

Noizbait Jaunari nik dainu egunik,
Igortzen banindu aberasturik;
Zorigaitzez
Hesturik nindauke bihotzez,
Ene etchola hemen minez.
Jauna! ba ha niri!
Utz nezazu etcholako nausi.

THE HAPPY SHEPHERD.

1.

A cottage my castle is,
By the side of willows, wood, and oak copse;
A flock
Such as mine is of no great worth,
Yet it is all I need.
Ah! my lot is not so bad!
I am master of this little house.

2.

Tranquil I live by night and day,
Of aught from no quarter afraid am I;
Here dwell
No king more proud.
What need I more?
Ha! it is not so bad!
Peter is master in this little house.

3.

Almost at daybreak each morn I rise,
My sheep I drive to the pastures;
And then
'Neath the shade reclined I pass the day.
Where is there one more happy than I?
No! my lot is not so bad!
I of my flock the master am.

4.

The sons of the nobles in the castles,
Their hearts are black, their thoughts dull.
Joyful
(Always am I; to be sad)
I have not time enough for that.
Ah! my lot is not so bad!
In the cottage of which I the master am.

5.

Eating too much, and ever full,
The rich they never feel hunger;
Yet always
My rude good health they envy;
With money they cannot purchase that.
Ha! it is not so bad!
The cottage the lord of the castle is.

6.

Once on a time I grieved the Lord,
Sending me full of riches;
Of sorrow
Full then was I at heart,
My little house here suffering.
Lord! spare me!
Leave me the master of my little house.

A pretty cradle song, "Lo! Lo! ene Maitea" ("Sleep! Sleep! my Darling"), by M. Larralde, a physician of St. Jean de Luz, won the prize at Urrugne in 1859. It is written to a tune composed by the Vicomte de Belzunce; the words have been printed in the "Lettres Labourdines," par H. L. Fabre (Bayonne, 1869).

1. 1.

Lo! Lo! nere maitea! Sleep! Sleep! my darling!
Lo! ni naiz zurekin! Sleep! I am with thee!
Lo! Lo! paregabea! Sleep! Sleep! without peer!
Nigarrik ez-eghin; Shed no tears;
Goizegui da! Munduko It is too soon! Of the world,
Gelditzen bazira, If thou seest long days,
Nigarretan urtzeco For tears thou wilt have
Baduzu dembora. Enough time.

2. 2.

Lo! nik zaitut higitzen, Sleep! I am rocking thee,
Lo! Lo! nombait goza. Sleep! Sleep! and be still.
Es duzuya ezagutzen Dost thou not recognise
Amattoren boza? Of thy mother the voice?
Exai guzietaric From every foe
Zure begiratzen To guard thee
Bertze lanak utzirik. I quit all else.
Egonen naiz hemen. I am watching here.

3. 3.

Lo! Lo! nere aingerua! Sleep! Sleep! my angel!
Bainan amexetan, But borne on the wings of a dream
Dabilkasu burua; Thy spirit far away flies;
Hirria ezpainetan; A smile plays on thy lips;
Norekin othe zare? Who are with thee?
Non othe zabiltza? Where dost thou wander?
Ez urrun ama-gabe Not far without your mother
Gan ene bihotza. Go my (dear) heart.

4. 4.

Lo! Lo! zeruetarat Sleep! Sleep! toward the heavens
Airatu bazare, If thy spirit has flown,
Ez bihar zu lurrerat Do not to earth return
Ardiexi-gabe Without having obtained
Ungi zure altchatzeko To bring thee up well
Enetzat gracia; For me the favour;
Guciz eni hortako This duty is all
Zait ezti bizia! That is life to me!

5. 5.

Lo! Lo! gauak oraindik, Sleep! Sleep! now it is night,
Nombait du eguna; The day is still distant;
Ez da nihon argirik There is no other light
Baizik izarrena. Than that of the stars.
Izarrez! mintzazean The stars! At the word
Zutaz naiz orhoitzen; I am thinking of thee;
Zein guti, zure aldean And (I say) than thee
Duten distiratzen! A star is less bright.

6. 6.

Lo! Lo! dembora dela! Sleep! Sleep! while there is time!
Iduri zait albak I see that the dawn
Histen hari tuela Is making pale
Ekhi gabazkoak. The stars of the night.
Choriac arboletan The birds in the trees
Kantaz hasi dire; Their songs have begun;
Laster nere besoetan Soon on my bosom
Gochatuko zare. Thou wilt begin to play.

7. 7.

Bainan atzarri zare But thou art waking
Uso bat iduri. Like a sweet dove.
Una nik zembat lore(ac) See what flowers
Zuretzat ekharri! I have gathered for thee
Ametsetan ait-amez Tell me, in thy dream
Othe zare orhoitu? Didst thou think of me?
Ai! hirri maite batez Ah! what a dear smile
Baietz erradazu! Doth answer me, Yes!

The following belongs to a more quaint and popular class of lullaby, or cradle songs; as it is so simple we do not give the Basque:--

LITTLE PETER. [211]

1. 5.

Ah, my little Peter, Dear little Peter,
I am sleepy, and-- I have bleached it, and--
Shall I go to bed? Shall I go to bed?
Go on spinning, and-- Weave it, and--
Then, then, then, Then, then, then,
Go on spinning, and-- Weave it, and--
Then, then, yes. Then, then, yes.

2. 6.

Dear little Peter, Dear little Peter,
I have spun, and-- I have woven it, and--
Shall I go to bed? Shall I go to bed?
Put the thread up in skeins, and-- Cut it, and--
Then, then, then, Then, then, then,
Put the thread up in skeins, and-- Cut it, and--
Then, then, yes. Then, then, yes.

3. 7.

Dear little Peter, Dear little Peter,
I have put it in skeins, and-- I have cut it, and--
Shall I go to bed? Shall I go to bed?
Wind off the thread, and-- Sew it, and--
Then, then, then, Then, then, then,
Wind off the thread, and-- Sew it, and--
Then, then, yes. Then, then, yes.

4. 8.

Dear little Peter, Oh! my little Peter,
I have wound it off, and-- I have sewn it, and--
Shall I go to bed? Shall I go to bed?
Bleach it, and-- It is daylight! and--
Then, then, then, Then, then, then,
Bleach it, and-- It is daylight! and--
Then, then, yes. Then, then, yes!

The best living Basque poets are--on the French side, Captain Elisamboure, of Hendaye; and Iparraguirre, of San Sebastian, among the Spanish Basques. Iparraguirre is now very old. He is the author of the song "Guernicaco Arbola" ("The Tree of Guernica," in Biscay), an oak under which the Lords of Biscay swore fidelity to the Fueros. This has become almost the national song of the Basques. [212] A few words on two other classes of songs, the drinking and the macaronic, must conclude our remarks. The most spirited drinking song is the following. [213] It must be remembered, in excuse, that the shepherds live a very hard life on the mountains the greater part of the year, and taste little wine there.

ARTZAIN ZAHARRAC. THE OLD SHEPHERDS.

1. 1.

Tam, tam, tam, tam, Tam, tam, tam, tam,
Rapetanplan. Rapetanplan.
Artzain zaharrac tafarnan. The old shepherds (are) at the inn.
Hordi gira? Are we drunk?
Ez, ezgira. No, we are not.
Basoak detzagun bira! Long live the glass!
Iohoho! Iohoho! Iohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho!
Basoak detzagun bira! Long live the glass!

2. 2.

Tam, tam, tam, tam, Tam, tam, tam, tam,
Rapetanplan. Rapetanplan.
Nork joiten derauku borthan? Who knocks at the door?
Behabada Perhaps
Otsoa da! It's the wolf!
Nihor ez gaiten athera! We won't go to the door, not one (of us)!
Iohoho! Iohoho! Iohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho!
Basoak detzagun bira! Long live the glass!

3. 3.

Tam, tam, tam, tam, Tam, tam, tam, tam,
Rapetanplan. Rapetanplan.
Uria hari karrikan. The rain begins in the street.
Gauden hemen, Let us stop the night here,
Arno hunen This good wine
Gostu onean edaten. To drink with pleasure.
Iohoho! Iohoho! Iohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho!
Gauden gostuan edaten! In the night to drink with pleasure!

4. 4.

Tam, tam, tam, tam, Tam, tam, tam, tam,
Rapetanplan. Rapetanplan.
Babazuza tarrapatan! The hail comes rattling down!
Dugun edan Let us drink
Hamarretan. For the tenth time.
Aberats gira gau huntan. We are rich to-night.
Iohoho! Iohoho! Iohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho!
Aberats gira gau hutan. We are rich this night.

5. 5.

Tam, tam, tam, tam, Tam, tam, tam, tam,
Rapetanplan. Rapetanplan.
Ez dut minik sabeletan! I am so jolly inside!
Nahi nuke I wish (I could live)
Ehun urthe, A hundred years,
Hola egon banindaite! If I might remain like this!
Iohoho! Iohoho! Iohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho!
Hola egon banindaite! If I might remain like this!

6. 6.

Tam, tam, tam, tam, Tam, tam, tam, tam,
Rapetanplan. Rapetanplan.
Arnorik ez da boteilan! There's no more wine in the bottle!
Ostalera, Landlord,
Ez ikhara, Don't be afraid,
Arnoko bethi sos bada! There's always money for wine!
Iohoho! Iohoho! Iohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho!
Arnoko bethi sos bada! There's always money for wine!

7. 7.

Tam, tam, tam, tam, Tam, tam, tam, tam,
Rapetanplan. Rapetanplan.
Zer othe dut beguietan? What's gone wrong with my eyes?
Non da bortha? Where's the door?
Airatu da. It has flown away.
Mahaya dantzan dabila! The table's beginning to dance!
Iohoho! Iohoho! Iohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho!
Mahaya dantzan dabila! The table's beginning to dance!

8. 8.

Tam, tam, tam, tam, Tam, tam, tam, tam,
Rapetanplan. Rapetanplan.
Zangoak amor bidean! My feet won't go straight on the road!
Hanketan min! I'm bad in my legs!
Gaizo, Martin, To-morrow, Martin,
Urkatsik ez dirok egin! You will not be able to walk at all!
Iohoho! Iohoho! Iohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho!
Urkatsik ez dirok egin! You will not be able to walk at all!

9. 9.

Tam, tam, tam, tam, Tam, tam, tam, tam,
Rapetanplan. Rapetanplan.
Eri-tchar naiz hilzekotan. I am very ill, I am like to die.
Sendo nintzan I should have been cured
Aski edan; Had I drunk enough;
Izan banu gau hunetan, If I had but this night,
Iohoho! Iohoho! Iohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho!
Aski edan gau hunetan! Drunk enough this night!

It is not at all uncommon in a country where, within the space of some twenty miles, the traveller may hear at least four languages--French, Gascoun, Basque, and Spanish--to find two or more of these mixed in the same poem, and sometimes with a little Latin as well. This occurs frequently in the noëls, where the angel speaks in French or Latin, and the shepherds reply in Gascoun or Basque; also sometimes in the love songs, where the French or Spanish lover will try to soften the heart of a Basque maiden by compliments in French or Spanish, while she greatest tour de force of this kind we know, both as to language and rhyme, is the song given in Fr. Michel's "Le Pays Basque," p. 429. We quote the first verse only; but the song continues with twenty-eight successive Basque rhymes in "in," and the last seven in "en."

Latin. Sed libera nos a malo. Deliver us from evil.
Sit nomen Domini. God's holy Name be
praised;
Spanish. Vamos á cantar un Let's sing a song, my
canto para diverti. friends, and a joyous
clamour raise;
Basque. Jan dugunaz gueroz For we of rare good
chahalki houneti meat have eaten to our
fill,
Basque. Eta edan ardoa And the good wine of
Juranzouneti. Jurançon
French. Chantons, chantons, have drunken at our
mes chers amis, je will. Then sing,
suis content pardi! friends, sing, i'faith,
I'm right well pleased!
Gascoun. Trinquam d'aquest Let's hear the
boun bi, glasses ring,
Basque. Eta dezagun canta And our new song, my
cantore berri. friends, let's all
together sing.

Almost every one of these Basque songs, like all true lyrics, has been adapted to some tune, either older than the words, or composed specially by the author. The music is often superior to the words. In the Nineteenth Century for August, 1878, Grant-Duff speaks of some of the Basque airs sung by the Béarnais tenor, Pascal Lamazou, as "extraordinarily beautiful." [214] Lamazou died at Pau in May, 1878. His répertoire consisted of fifty Pyrenean songs, of which thirty-four are Béarnais, fourteen Basque, and two are from the "Pyrénées Orientales." [215] One of the Basque airs "Artzaina," has somehow got attached to the popular American hymn, "I want to be an angel." Another, and larger collection, including more correct renderings of some of Lamazou's fourteen, is that of Sallaberry, "Chants Populaires du Pays Basque" (Bayonne, 1870). But, long before this, a collection of Basque Songs, Zorzicos, and dance music was published in San Sebastian, by J. D. Iztueta, in 1824 and 1826. Excellent reviews of these two works, with translations of some of the words, appeared in the Foreign Review and Continental Miscellany, vol. ii., pp. 338, 1828; and in vol. iv., p. 198. Some specimens of music are to be found at the end of Michel's "Le Pays Basque," in the "Cancionero Vasco"--now in course of publication, and so often referred to--and in other local publications, besides those in private hands. Basquophiles love to narrate that Rossini passed a summer in the Basque village of Cambo, and believe that they can recognise the influence of Basque airs in some of his subsequent operas. However this may be, let no one judge of Basque music by the noëls usually howled in the streets at Christmas and the New Year, or by the doleful productions of the last Carlist War. It would be equally fair to judge of English music by the serenades of the waits at Christmas. We refer those who wish to investigate further the subject of this chapter to the excellent work, "Le Pays Basque," par M. Fr. Michel (Paris and London, 1857), for the French, to the "Cancionero Vasco," by Don José Manterola, now in course of publication at San Sebastian, for the Spanish, Basque; and to M. Sallaberry's "Chants Populaires du Pays Basque" for the music.

NOTES

[1] See on this head M. Vinson's Essay in Appendix.

[2] The second part of M. Cerquand's "Légendes et Récits Populaires du Pays Basque" (Pau, 1876), appeared while the present work was passing through the press. It is chiefly occupied with legends of Basa-Jaun and Lamiñak.

[3] Not that we suppose all these tales to be atmospheric myths; we adopt this only as the provisional hypothesis which appears at present to cover the largest amount of facts. It seems certainly to be a "vera causa" in some cases; but still it is only one of several possible "veræ causæ," and is not to be applied to all.

[4] Cf. Campbell's "Introduction," p. xxviii.:--"I have never heard a story whose point was obscenity publickly told in a Highland cottage; and I believe such are rare. If there was an occasional coarse word spoken, it was not coarsely meant."

[5] One class, of which we have given no example, is that of the Star Legend given by M. Cerquand, "Légendes et Récits Populaires du Pays Basque," p. 19, and reprinted, with variations, by M. Vinson, "Revue de Linguistique," Tom. VIII., 241-5, January, 1876.

[6] Cf. "Etudes Historiques sur la Ville de Bayonne, par MM. Balasque et Dulaurens," Vol. I., p. 49.

[7] We have purposely omitted references to Greek and Latin mythology, as these are to be found "passim" in the pages of Max Müller and of Cox. The preparation for the Press was made at a distance from our own library, or more references to Spanish and patois sources would have been given.

[8] See page 192.

[9] There seems to be a Basque root "Tar," which appears in the words, "Tarro, Tarrotu, v., devenir un peu grand. Tarrapataka, adv., marchant avec précipitation et en faisant du bruit."--Salaberry's "Vocabulaire Bas-Navarrais," sub voce. Cf. Campbell's "Tales of the Western Highlands," Vol. II., 94:--"He heard a great Tartar noise," Tartar being printed as if it were a Gaelic word.

[10] Cf. also Müller's "Fragmenta Historicorum Græcorum" (Didot, Paris, 1841), Vol. I., p. 246. "Ephori Fragmenta," 51, with the references there given.

[11] Cf. also the Gaelic, "The Story and the Lay of the Great Fool," Campbell, Vol. III., pp. 146-154.

[12] This talking giant's ring appears in Campbell's "Popular Tales of the West Highlands," Vol. I., p. 111, in the tale called "Conall cra Bhuidhe." He also refers (p. 153) to Grimm's tale of the "Robber and his Sons," where the same ring appears:--"He puts on the gold ring which the giant gave him, which forces him to cry out, 'Here I am!' He bites off his own finger, and so escapes."

[13] Cf. Campbell's "Mac-a-Rusgaich," Vol. II., 305:--"I am putting it into the covenant that if either one of us takes the rue, that a thong shall be taken out of his skin, from the back of his head to his heel."

[14] Salamanca was the reputed home of witchcraft and devilry in De Lancre's time (1610). He is constantly punning on the word. It is because "Sel y manque," etc. See also the story of Gerbert, Pope Sylvester II., in the 10th century.

[15] This incident is found in Cenac-Moncaut's Gascon tale, "Le Coffret de la Princesse." "Litterature Populaire de la Gascogne," p. 193 (Dentu, Paris, 1868).

[16] For this incident compare the death of the giant in one of the versions of "Jack the Giant-Killer;" and especially "the Erse version of Jack the Giant-Killer." Campbell, Vol. II., p. 327.

[17] This agreement is found also in the Norse and in Brittany. See "Contes Populaires de la Grande Bretagne," by Loys Brueyre, pp. 25, 26. This is an excellent work. The incident of Shylock, in the "Merchant of Venice," will occur to every one.

[18] Literally, "Marsh of the Basa-Andre." The "Puits des Fées" are common in France, especially in the Landes and in the Gironde.

[19] Only in this, and one other tale, is the word "prince" used instead of "king's son." Compare the Gaelic of Campbell in this respect. This tale is probably from the French, and the Tartaro is only a giant.

[20] One of the oddest instances of mistaken metaphors that we know of occurs in "La Vie de St. Savin, par J. Abbadie, Curé de la Paroisse" (Tarbes, 1861). We translate from the Latin, which is given in a note:--"Intoxicated with divine love, he was keeping vigil according to his custom, and when he could not find a light elsewhere, he gave light to his eyes from the light that was in his breast. The small piece of wax-taper thus lit passed the whole night till morning without being extinguished."--Off. S. Savin.

[21] This Fleur-de-lis was supposed by our narrator to be some mark tattooed or impressed upon the breast of all kings' sons.

[22] This, of course, is "Little George," and makes one suspect that the whole tale is borrowed from the French; though it is just possible that only the names, and some of the incidents, may be.

[23] Cf. "Ezkabi Fidel," 112, below.

[24] In Campbell's "Tale of the Sea-Maiden," instead of looking in his ear, the king's daughter put one of her earrings in his ear, the last two days, in order to wake him; and it is by these earrings and her ring that she recognises him afterwards, instead of by the pieces of dress and the serpent's tongues.

[25] Campbell, Vol. I., lxxxvii., 8, has some most valuable remarks on the Keltic Legends, showing the Kelts to be a horse-loving, and not a seafaring race--a race of hunters and herdsmen, not of sailors. The contrary is the case with these Basque tales. The reader will observe that the ships do nothing extraordinary, while the horses behave as no horse ever did. It is vice versâ in the Gaelic Tales, even when the legends are identical in many particulars.

[26] The three days' fight, and the dog, appear in Campbell's "Tale of the Sea-Maiden," Vol. I., pp. 77-79.

[27] The Basque word usually means "Eau de Cologne."

[28] This is a much better game than the ordinary one of tilting at a ring with a lance, and is a much more severe test of horsemanship. The ring, an ordinary lady's ring, is suspended by a thread from a cross-bar, at such a height that a man can just reach it by standing in his stirrups. Whoever, starting from a given point, can put a porcupine's quill, or a small reed, through the ring, and thus carry it off at a hand-gallop, becomes possessor of the ring. We have seen this game played at Monte Video, in South America; and even the Gauchos considered it a test of good horsemanship. Formerly, it seems, the ring was suspended from the tongue of a bell, which would be set ringing when the ring was carried away. The sword, of course, was the finest rapier.

[29] One of those present here interrupted the reciter--"What did she hit the serpent on the tail for?" "Why, to kill him, of course," was the reply; "ask Mr. Webster if serpents are not killed by hitting them on the tail?"