Chapter VI: Book I: The Boy and the Mantle (2)

From an essay on the romance of Sir Guy, read by Mr. Wright before the British Archaeological Association during its meeting at Warwick, we extract the following remarks in illustration of the history of the present ballad, and other similar popular heroic traditions.

"As the Teutonic tribes progressed in their migrations, and settled in new lands--and especially when they received a new faith, and made advances in civilization,--the mythic romances of their forefathers underwent remarkable modifications to adapt them to new sentiments and new manners. Among people who had forgotten the localities to which they referred, they received a new location and became identified with places and objects with which people were better acquainted, and in this manner they underwent a new historical interpretation. It would be no uninteresting task to point out how many romantic tales that are soberly related of individuals of comparatively modern history, are merely new applications of these early myths.

"Among the romances of the Anglo-Danish cycle by no means the least celebrated is that of GUY OF WARWICK. It is one, of the few, which has been preserved in its Anglo-Norman form, since which it has gone through an extraordinary number of versions, and Chaucer enumerated it among the _romances of pris_, or those which in the fourteenth century were held in the highest estimation. It is doubtless one of those stories in which an ancient mythic romance has undergone the series of modifications I have been describing; a legend which had become located by popular traditions in the neighbourhood we are now visiting, in which the contests between northern chieftains are changed into tilts and tournaments, but in which the combats with dragons and giants are still preserved. Whatever may have been the name of the original hero, that which he now bears, Guy, is a French name, and could not have been given till Norman times.

"From the Anglo-Norman poem, so great was its popularity, two or three different English metrical versions were made, which are still found in manuscripts, and the earliest of which, that of the well-known Auchinlech manuscript, has been printed in a very expensive form by one of the Scottish Antiquarian clubs. It was next transformed into French prose, and in that form was popular in the fifteenth century, and was printed by some of the earlier printers. It was finally reduced to a popular chap-book in prose and a broadside ballad in verse, and in these forms was hawked about the streets until a very recent period. Such has in general been the fate of the romantic literature of the middle ages; a remarkable proof of the tenacity with which it has kept its hold on the popular mind." _Gentleman's Magazine_, Sept. 1847, p. 300.

Was ever knight for ladyes sake
Soe tost in love, as I, Sir Guy,
For Phelis fayre, that lady bright
As ever man beheld with eye?

She gave me leave myself to try, 5
The valiant knight with sheeld and speare,
Ere that her love she would grant me;
Which made mee venture far and neare.

Then proved I a baron bold,[L9]
In deeds of armes the doughtyest knight 10
That in those dayes in England was,
With sworde and speare in feild to fight.

An English man I was by birthe:
In faith of Christ a christyan true:
The wicked lawes of infidells 15
I sought by prowesse to subdue.

'Nine' hundred twenty yeere and odde[L17]
After our Saviour Christ his birth,
When King Athelstone wore the crowne,
I lived heere upon the earth. 20

Sometime I was of Warwicke erle,
And, as I sayd, of very truth
A ladyes love did me constraine
To seeke strange ventures in my youth;

To win me fame by feates of armes 25
In strange and sundry heathen lands;
Where I atchieved for her sake
Right dangerous conquests with my hands.

For first I sayled to Normandye,
And there I stoutlye wan in fight 30
The emperours daughter of Almaine,
From manye a vallyant worthye knight.

Then passed I the seas to Greece,
To helpe the emperour in his right,
Against the mightye souldans hoaste 35
Of puissant Persians for to fight:

Where I did slay of Sarazens,
And heathen pagans, manye a man;
And slew the souldans cozen deere,
Who had to name doughtye Coldran. 40

Eskeldered, a famous knight,
To death likewise I did pursue:
And Elmayne, King of Tyre, alsoe,
Most terrible in fight to viewe.

I went into the souldans hoast, 45
Being thither on embassage sent,
And brought his head awaye with mee;
I having slaine him in his tent.

There was a dragon in that land
Most fiercelye mett me by the waye, 50
As hee a lyon did pursue,
Which I myself did alsoe slay.

Then soon I past the seas from Greece,
And came to Pavye land aright;
Where I the duke of Pavye killed, 55
His hainous treason to requite.

To England then I came with speede,
To wedd faire Phelis, lady bright;
For love of whome I travelled farr
To try my manhood and my might. 60

But when I had espoused her,
I stayd with her but fortye dayes,
Ere that I left this ladye faire,
And went, from her beyond the seas.

All cladd in gray, in pilgrim sort, 65
My voyage from her I did take
Unto the blessed Holy-Land,
For Jesus Christ my Saviours sake.

Where I Erle Jonas did redeeme,
And all his sonnes, which were fifteene, 70
Who with the cruell Sarazens
In prison for long time had beene.

I slew the gyant Amarant
In battel fiercelye hand to hand,
And doughty Barknard killed I, 75
A treacherous knight of Pavye land.

Then I to England came againe,
And here with Colbronde fell I fought;
An ugly gyant, which the Danes
Had for their champion hither brought. 80

I overcame him in the feild,
And slewe him soone right valliantlye;
Wherebye this land I did redeeme
From Danish tribute utterlye.

And afterwards I offered upp 85
The use of weapons solemnlye
At Winchester, whereas I fought,
In sight of manye farr and nye.

'But first,' neare Winsor, I did slaye
A bore of passing might and strength; 90
Whose like in England never was
For hugenesse both in bredth and length.

Some of his bones in Warwicke yett
Within the castle there doth lye;
One of his sheeld-bones to this day 95
Hangs in the citye of Coventrye.

On Dunsmore heath I alsoe slewe
A monstrous wyld and cruell beast,
Calld the Dun-cow of Dunsmore heath;
Which manye people had opprest. 100

Some of her bones in Warwicke yett
Still for a monument doth lye,
And there exposed to lookers viewe,
As wondrous strange, they may espye.

A dragon in Northumberland 105
I alsoe did in fight destroye,
Which did bothe man and beast oppresse,
And all the countrye sore annoye.

At length to Warwicke I did come,
Like pilgrim poore, and was not knowne; 110
And there I lived a hermitts life
A mile and more out of the towne.

Where with my hands I hewed a house
Out of a craggy rocke of stone,
And lived like a palmer poore 115
Within that cave myself alone:

And daylye came to begg my bread
Of Phelis att my castle gate;
Not knowne unto my loved wiffe,
Who dailye mourned for her mate. 120

Till att the last I fell sore sicke,
Yea, sicke soe sore that I must dye;
I sent to her a ring of golde,
By which shee knew me presentlye.

Then shee repairing to the cave, 125
Before that I gave up the ghost,
Herself closd up my dying eyes;
My Phelis faire, whom I lovd most.

Thus dreadful death did me arrest,
To bring my corpes unto the grave, 130
And like a palmer dyed I,
Wherby I sought my soule to save.

My body that endured this toyle,
Though now it be consumed to mold,
My statue, faire engraven in stone, 135
In Warwicke still you may behold.

9, The proud Sir Guy, PC.

17, Two hundred, MS. and PC.

ST. GEORGE AND THE DRAGON.

(From Percy's _Reliques_, iii. 278.)

The following rhymed legend, which, like several other pieces in this Book, can be called a ballad only by an objectionable, though common, extension of the term, was printed by Percy (with some alterations) from two "ancient" black-letter copies in the Pepys collection.

Real popular ballads on St. George's victory over the Dragon exist in several languages, though not in English.[B] Such a ballad is known to have been sung by the Swedes at the battle of Brunkeberg in 1471, and one is still sung by the people both of Denmark and Sweden. Grundtvig gives three copies of the Danish ballad, two of the 16th and 17th centuries, and one of the present. Four versions of the Swedish have been published, of various ages (e.g. _Svenska Folkvisor_, ii. 252). A German ballad is given by Meinert, _Altdeutsche Volkslieder_, p. 254; after him by Erlach, iv. 258; and Haupt and Schmaler have printed two widely different versions of the ballad in Wendish, _Volkslieder der Wenden_, vol. i. No. 285, ii. No. 195. These are all the proper traditional ballads upon this subject which are known to be preserved, unless we include a piece called _Juerg Drachentoedter_ in Zuccalmaglio's _Deutsche Volkslieder_, No. 37, which is of suspicious authenticity. The piece called _Ritter St. Georg_, in _Des Knaben Wunderhorn_, i. 151, is not a proper ballad, but a rhymed legend, like the one here printed, though intended to be sung.

[B] What follows is abridged from Grundtvig, _Danmarks Gamle
Folkeviser_, ii. 554.

The hero of these ballads, St. George of Cappadocia, is said to have suffered martyrdom during the persecution in Syria, in the year 303. In the 6th century he was a recognized saint both in the western and the eastern churches, and his reputation was limited to this character until the 13th. Reinbot von Dorn, (1231-53,) in his poem _Der Heilige Georg_, (Von der Hagen and Buesching's _Deutsche Gedichte des Mittelalters_,) and Vincent de Beauvais (died 1262) in his _Speculum Historiale_ (XII. 131-32), content themselves with recounting his martyrdom, and appear to know nothing about his fight with the Dragon. The first known writer who attributes this exploit to St. George is Jacobus a Voragine (died 1298), in the _Golden Legend_. Of course it does not follow that the story originated there. It is probable that the legend of the Dragon arose at the time of the Crusades, and indeed was partly occasioned by them, though we ought not hastily to admit, what has been suggested, that it was founded upon some tradition which the Crusaders heard in Syria.

The Byzantians had long before ascribed various miracles to St. George, but it was the Normans, who, so to say, first pressed him into active military service.

It was he that commanded the heavenly host that came to the help of the Crusaders against the Turks, under the walls of Antioch, in the year 1098, on which occasion he was seen on his white horse, bearing the white banner with the red cross. He manifested himself again at the storming of Jerusalem in the following year, and a hundred years later was seen to fight in the front rank against the Moors in Spain, and for Frederic Barbarossa, in his crusade in 1190. But though he had entered into the service of the German emperor, this did not prevent his aiding the orthodox William of Holland in taking Aix-la-Chapelle from the excommunicated Emperor Frederic in 1248.--The most various races have contended for his protection. His feast was in 1222 ordered to be kept as a holiday throughout all England: from the beginning of the 14th century, or since the Mongol dominion was shaken off, he has been one of the guardian saints of Russia: in 1468, the Emperor Frederic III. founded the Austrian Order of St. George for the protection of the Empire against the Turks, and a few years later, in 1471, at the momentous battle of Brunkeberg, his name was the war-cry of both parties, Swedes and Danes.

That the subjugation of the Dragon (a symbolical mode of representing the extinction of Evil common to all times and peoples) should be attributed to St. George, would seem to be sufficiently explained by his having become the Christian Hero of the Middle Ages. A special reason may, however, be alleged for his connection with such a legend. Long before the Crusades, he was depicted by the artists of the Oriental Church as the Great Martyr, with the Dragon (Anti-Christ or the Devil) at his feet, and a crowned virgin (the Church) at his side. In like manner had Constantine the Great had himself drawn, and many other saints are represented in the same way, as Theodore, Victor, and Margaret. This symbolic representation would naturally lead to the Crusaders making St. George the hero in an achievement which was well known in connection with other names: and it would then not be too much to assume that the Normans (who, as already said, were the first to recognize his presence in battle),--the same Normans who were properly the creators of the romantic poetry of the Middle Ages,--were also the first to connect St. George with the conquest of the Dragon.

But however we may account for St. George's being introduced into such a legend, so much is sure; that from the 14th century on, the story and the hero have been inseparable: all the legendaries and all the pictures of him exhibit him as the conqueror of the Dragon: his martyrdom is nearly lost sight of, and in ballads is entirely forgotten.--As to the place which was the scene of the fight, there are many opinions. Some have fixed it in Cappadocia, others in Lybia, others in Syria, and some European nations have assigned the adventure to a locality within their own bounds. Thus the Wallachians lay the scene at Orwoza, one of the Wendish ballads at Berlin, the Germans at Leipsic, the Dutch at Oudenarde, and--the people of the island of Funen at Svendborg!

Of Hector's deeds did Homer sing,
And of the sack of stately Troy,
What griefs fair Helena did bring,
Which was Sir Paris' only joy:
And by my pen I will recite 5
St. George's deeds, an English knight.

Against the Sarazens so rude
Fought he full long and many a day,
Where many gyaunts he subdu'd,
In honour of the Christian way; 10
And after many adventures past,
To Egypt land he came at last.

Now, as the story plain doth tell,
Within that countrey there did rest
A dreadful dragon, fierce and fell, 15
Whereby they were full sore opprest:
Who by his poisonous breath each day
Did many of the city slay.

The grief whereof did grow so great
Throughout the limits of the land, 20
That they their wise men did intreat
To shew their cunning out of hand;
What way they might this fiend destroy,
That did the countrey thus annoy.

The wise men all before the king, 25
This answer fram'd incontinent:
The dragon none to death might bring
By any means they could invent;
His skin more hard than brass was found,
That sword nor spear could pierce nor wound. 30

When this the people understood,
They cryed out most piteouslye,
The dragon's breath infects their blood,
That every day in heaps they dye;
Among them such a plague is bred, 35
The living scarce could bury the dead.

No means there were, as they could hear,
For to appease the dragon's rage,
But to present some virgin clear,
Whose blood his fury might asswage; 40
Each day he would a maiden eat,
For to allay his hunger great.

This thing by art the wise men found,
Which truly must observed be;
Wherefore, throughout the city round, 45
A virgin pure of good degree
Was, by the king's commission, still
Taken up to serve the dragon's will.

Thus did the dragon every day
Untimely crop some virgin flowr, 50
Till all the maids were worn away,
And none were left him to devour;
Saving the king's fair daughter bright,
Her father's only heart's delight.

Then came the officers to the king, 55
That heavy message to declare,
Which did his heart with sorrow sting;
"She is," quoth he, "my kingdom's heir:
O let us all be poisoned here,
Ere she should die, that is my dear." 60

Then rose the people presently,
And to the king in rage they went;
They said his daughter dear should dye,
The dragon's fury to prevent:
"Our daughters all are dead," quoth they, 65
"And have been made the dragon's prey;

"And by their blood we rescued were,
And thou hast sav'd thy life thereby;
And now in sooth it is but faire,
For us thy daughter so should die." 70
"O save my daughter," said the king,
"And let ME feel the dragon's sting."

Then fell fair Sabra on her knee,
And to her father dear did say,
"O father, strive not thus for me, 75
But let me be the dragon's prey;
It may be, for my sake alone
This plague upon the land was thrown.

"'Tis better I should dye," she said,
"Than all your subjects perish quite; 80
Perhaps the dragon here was laid,
For my offence to work his spite,
And after he hath suckt my gore,
Your land shall feel the grief no more."

"What hast thou done, my daughter dear, 85
For to deserve this heavy scourge?
It is my fault, as may appear,
Which makes the gods our state to purge;
Then ought I die, to stint the strife,
And to preserve thy happy life." 90

Like mad-men, all the people cried,
"Thy death to us can do no good;
Our safely only doth abide
In making her the dragon's food."
"Lo! here I am, I come," quoth she, 95
"Therefore do what you will with me."

"Nay stay, dear daughter," quoth the queen,
"And as thou art a virgin bright,
That hast for vertue famous been,
So let me cloath thee all in white; 100
And crown thy head with flowers sweet,
An ornament for virgins meet."

And when she was attired so,
According to her mother's mind,
Unto the stake then did she go, 105
To which her tender limbs they bind;
And being bound to stake a thrall,
She bade farewell unto them all.

"Farewell, my father dear," quoth she,
"And my sweet mother, meek and mild; 110
Take you no thought nor weep for me,
For you may have another child;
Since for my country's good I dye,
Death I receive most willinglye."

The king and queen and all their train 115
With weeping eyes went then their way,
And let their daughter there remain,
To be the hungry dragon's prey:
But as she did there weeping lye,
Behold St. George came riding by. 120

And seeing there a lady bright
So rudely tyed unto a stake,
As well became a valiant knight,
He straight to her his way did take:
"Tell me, sweet maiden," then quoth he, 125
"What caitif thus abuseth thee?

"And, lo! by Christ his cross I vow,
Which here is figured on my breast,
I will revenge it on his brow,
And break my lance upon his chest:" 130
And speaking thus whereas he stood,
The dragon issued from the wood.

The lady, that did first espy
The dreadful dragon coming so,
Unto St. George aloud did cry, 135
And willed him away to go;
"Here comes that cursed fiend," quoth she,
"That soon will make an end of me."

St. George then looking round about,
The fiery dragon soon espy'd, 140
And like a knight of courage stout,
Against him did most fiercely ride;
And with such blows he did him greet,
He fell beneath his horse's feet.

For with his launce, that was so strong, 145
As he came gaping in his face,
In at his mouth he thrust along;
For he could pierce no other place:
And thus within the lady's view
This mighty dragon straight he slew. 150

The savour of his poisoned breath
Could do this holy knight no harm;
Thus he the lady sav'd from death,
And home he led her by the arm;
Which when King Ptolemy did see, 155
There was great mirth and melody.

When as that valiant champion there
Had slain the dragon in the field,
To court he brought the lady fair,
Which to their hearts much joy did yield, 160
He in the court of Egypt staid
Till he most falsely was betray'd.

That lady dearly lov'd the knight,
He counted her his only joy;
But when their love was brought to light, 165
It turn'd unto their great annoy.
Th' Morocco king was in the court,
Who to the orchard did resort;

Dayly, to take the pleasant air;
For pleasure sake he us'd to walk; 170
Under a wall he oft did hear
St. George with Lady Sabra talk;
Their love he shew'd unto the king,
Which to St. George great woe did bring.

Those kings together did devise 175
To make the Christian knight away:
With letters him in curteous wise
They straightway sent to Persia,
But wrote to the sophy him to kill,
And treacherously his blood to spill. 180

Thus they for good did him reward
With evil, and most subtilly,
By such vile meanes, they had regard
To work his death most cruelly;
Who, as through Persia land he rode, 185
With zeal destroy'd each idol god.

For which offence he straight was thrown
Into a dungeon dark and deep;
Where, when he thought his wrongs upon,
He bitterly did wail and weep: 190
Yet like a knight of courage stout,
At length his way he digged out.

Three grooms of the King of Persia
By night this valiant champion slew,
Though he had fasted many a day, 195
And then away from thence he flew
On the best steed the sophy had;
Which when he knew he was full mad.

Towards Christendom he made his flight,
But met a gyant by the way, 200
With whom in combat he did fight
Most valiantly a summer's day:
Who yet, for all his bats of steel,
Was forc'd the sting of death to feel.

Back o'er the seas, with many bands 205
Of warlike souldiers soon he past,
Vowing upon those heathen lands
To work revenge; which at the last,
Ere thrice three years were gone and spent,
He wrought unto his heart's content. 210

Save onely Egypt land he spar'd,
For Sabra bright her only sake,
And, ere for her he had regard,
He meant a tryal kind to make:
Meanwhile the king, o'ercome in field, 215
Unto Saint George did quickly yield.

Then straight Morocco's king he slew,
And took fair Sabra to his wife,
But meant to try if she were true,
Ere with her he would lead his life; 220
And, tho' he had her in his train,
She did a virgin pure remain.

Toward England then that lovely dame
The brave St. George conducted strait,
An eunuch also with them came, 225
Who did upon the lady wait.
These three from Egypt went alone:
Now mark St. George's valour shown.

When as they in a forest were,
The lady did desire to rest: 230
Meanwhile St. George to kill a deer
For their repast did think it best:
Leaving her with the eunuch there,
Whilst he did go to kill the deer.

But lo! all in his absence came 235
Two hungry lyons, fierce and fell,
And tore the eunuch on the same
In pieces small, the truth to tell;
Down by the lady then they laid,
Whereby they shew'd she was a maid. 240

But when he came from hunting back,
And did behold this heavy chance,
Then for his lovely virgin's sake
His courage strait he did advance,
And came into the lions sight, 245
Who ran at him with all their might.

Their rage did him no whit dismay,
Who, like a stout and valiant knight,
Did both the hungry lyons slay
Within the Lady Sabra's sight: 250
Who all this while, sad and demure,
There stood most like a virgin pure.

Now when St. George did surely know
This lady was a virgin true,
His heart was glad, that erst was woe, 255
And all his love did soon renew:
He set her on a palfrey steed,
And towards England came with speed.

Where being in short space arriv'd
Unto his native dwelling place, 260
Therein with his dear love he liv'd,
And fortune did his nuptials grace:
They many years of joy did see,
And led their lives at Coventry.

THE SEVEN CHAMPIONS OF CHRISTENDOM.

_The Famous Historie of the Seven Champions of Christendom_, is the work of Richard Johnson, a ballad maker of some note at the end of the 16th and beginning of the 17th century. All that is known of him may be seen in Chappel's Introduction to the _Crown Garland of Golden Roses_, of which Johnson was the compiler or the author. (Percy Society, vol. vi.) "The Story of St. George and the Fair Sabra," says Percy, "is taken almost verbatim from the old poetical legend of Sir Bevis of Hampton."

The _Seven Champions_ is twice entered on the Stationers' Registers in the year 1596. It is here reprinted from _A Collection of Old Ballads_, 1723, vol. i. 28. The same copy is in Evans's collection, i. 372.

Now of the Seven Champions here
My purpose is to write,
To show how they with sword and spear
Put many foes to flight;
Distressed ladies to release, 5
And captives bound in chains,
That Christian glory to increase
Which evermore remains.

First, I give you to understand
That great Saint George by name, 10
Was the true champion of our land;
And of his birth and fame,
And of his noble mother's dream,
Before that he was born,
The which to her did clearly seem 15
Her days would be forlorn.

This was her dream; that she did bear
A dragon in her womb;
Which griev'd this noble lady fair,
'Cause death must be her doom. 20
This sorrow she could not conceal,
So dismal was her fear,
So that she did the same reveal
Unto her husband dear;

Who went for to inquire straight 25
Of an enchanteress;
When, knocking at her iron gate,
Her answer it was this:
"The lady shall bring forth a son,
By whom, in tract of time, 30
Great noble actions shall be done;
He will to honour climb.

"For he shall be in banners wore;
This truth I will maintain;
Your lady, she shall die before 35
You see her face again."
His leave he took, and home he went;
His wife departed lay;
But that which did his grief augment,
The child was stole away. 40

Then did he travel in despair,
Where soon with grief he died;
While the young child, his son and heir,
Did constantly abide
With the wise lady of the grove, 45
In her enchanted cell;
Amongst the woods he oft did rove,
His beauty pleased her well.

Blinded with love, she did impart,
Upon a certain day, 50
To him her cunning magic art,
And where six Champions lay
Within a brazen castle strong,
By an enchanted sleep,
And where they had continued long; 55
She did the castle keep.

She taught and show'd him every thing
Through being free and fond;
Which did her fatal ruin bring;
For with a silver wand 60
He clos'd her up into a rock,
By giving one small stroke;
So took possession of her stock,
And the enchantment broke.

Those Christian Champions being freed 65
From their enchanted state,
Each mounted on his prancing steed,
And took to travel straight;
Where we will leave them to pursue
Kind fortune's favours still, 70
To treat of our own champion, who
Did courts with wonders fill.

For as he came to understand,
At an old hermit's cell,
How, in the vast Egyptian land, 75
A dragon fierce and fell
Threatened the ruin of them all,
By his devouring jaws,
His sword releas'd them from that thrall,
And soon remov'd the cause. 80

This dreadful dragon must destroy
A virgin every day,
Or else with stinks he'll them annoy,
And many thousands slay.
At length the king's own daughter dear, 85
For whom the court did mourn,
Was brought to be devoured here,
For she must take her turn.

The king by proclamation said,
If any hardy knight 90
Could free this fair young royal maid,
And slay the dragon quite,
Then should he have her for his bride,
And, after death, likewise
His crown and kingdom too beside: 95
Saint George he won the prize.

When many hardy strokes he'd dealt,
And could not pierce his hide,
He run his sword up to the hilt
In at the dragon's side; 100
By which he did his life destroy,
Which cheer'd the drooping king;
This caused an universal joy,
Sweet peals of bells did ring.

The daughter of a king, for pride 105
Transformed into a tree
Of mulberries, Saint Denis[L107] spied,
And being hungery,
Of that fair fruit he ate a part,
And was transformed likewise 110
Into the fashion of a hart,
For seven years precise.

At which he long bewail'd the loss
Of manly shape: then goes
To him his true and trusty horse, 115
And brings a blushing rose,
By which the magic spell was broke,
And both were fairly freed
From the enchanted heavy yoke:
They then in love agreed. 120

Now we come to Saint James of Spain,
Who slew a mighty boar,
In hopes that he might honour gain,
But he must die therefore:
Who was allow'd his death to choose, 125
Which was by virgins' darts,
But they the same did all refuse,
So tender were their hearts.

The king's daughter at length, by lot,
Was doomed to work his woe; 130
From her fair hands a fatal shot,
Out of a golden bow,
Must put a period to the strife;
At which grief did her seize.
She of her father begg'd his life 135
Upon her bended knees;

Saying, "my gracious sovereign Lord,
And honoured father dear,
He well deserves a large reward;
Then be not so severe. 140
Give me his life!" He grants the boon,
And then without delay,
This Spanish champion, ere 'twas noon,
Rid with her quite away.

Now come we to Saint Anthony, 145
A man with valour fraught,
The champion of fair Italy,
Who many wonders wrought.
First, he a mighty giant slew,
The terror of mankind: 150
Young ladies fair, pure virgins too,
This giant kept confined

Within his castle walls of stone,
And gates of solid brass,
Where seven ladies made their moan, 155
But out they could not pass.
Many brave lords, and knights likewise,
To free them did engage,
Who fell a bleeding sacrifice
To this fierce giant's rage. 160

Fair daughters to a royal king!
Yet fortune, after all,
Did our renowned champion bring
To free them from their thrall.
Assisted by the hand of heaven, 165
He ventured life and limb:
Behold the fairest of the seven,
She fell in love with him.

That champion good, bold Saint Andrew,
The famous Scottish knight, 170
Dark gloomy deserts travelled through,
Where Phoebus gave no light.
Haunted with spirits, for a while
His weary course he steers,
Till fortune blessed him with a smile, 175
And shook off all his fears.

This Christian champion travell'd long,
Till at the length he came
Unto the giant's castle strong,
Great Blanderon by name, 180
Where the king's daughters were transform'd
Into the shape of swans:
Though them he freed, their father storm'd,
But he his malice shuns.

For though five hundred armed knights 185
Did straight beset him round,
Our Christian champion with them fights,
Till on the heathen ground
Most of those Pagans bleeding lay;
Which much perplexed the king; 190
The Scottish champion clears the way,
Which was a glorious thing.

Saint Patrick too, of Ireland,
That noble knight of fame,
He travelled, as we understand, 195
Till at the length he came
Into a grove where satyrs dwelt,
Where ladies he beheld,
Who had their raged fury felt,
And were with sorrow fill'd. 200

He drew his sword, and did maintain
A sharp and bloody fray,
Till the ring-leader he had slain;
The rest soon fled away.
This done, he asked the ladies fair, 205
Who were in silks array'd,
From whence they came, and who they were.
They answered him and said:

"We are all daughters to a king,
Whom a brave Scottish knight 210
Did out of tribulation bring:
He having took his flight,
Now after him we are in quest."
Saint Patrick then replies,
"He is my friend, I cannot rest 215
Till I find him likewise.

"So, ladies, if you do intend
To take your lot with me,
This sword of mine shall you defend
From savage cruelty." 220
The ladies freely gave consent
To travel many miles;
Through shady groves and woods they went,
In search of fortune's smiles.

The Christian champion David, went 225
To the Tartarian court,
Where at their tilt and tournament,
And such like royal sport,
He overthrew the only son
Of the Count Palatine; 230
This noble action being done
His fame began to shine.

The young Count's sad and sudden death
Turn'd all their joys to grief;
He bleeding lay, bereaved of breath, 235
The father's son in chief;
But lords and ladies blazed the fame
Of our brave champion bold;
Saying, they ought to write his name
In characters of gold. 240

Here have I writ a fair account
Of each heroic deed,
Done by these knights, which will surmount
All those that shall succeed.
The ancient chronicles of kings, 245
Ere since the world begun,
Can't boast of such renowned things
As these brave knights have done.

Saint George he was for England,
Saint Dennis was for France, 250
Saint James for Spain, whose valiant hand
Did Christian fame advance:
Saint Anthony for Italy,
Andrew for Scots ne'er fails,
Patrick too stands for Ireland, 255
Saint David was for Wales.

Thus have you those stout champions names
In this renowned song:
Young captive ladies bound in chains,
Confined in castles strong, 260
They did by knightly prowess free,
True honour to maintain:
Then let their lasting memory
From age to age remain.

107, which Dennis.

THOMAS OF ERSSELDOUNE.

This beautiful tale is transferred to these pages from Mr. Laing's _Select Remains of the Ancient Popular Poetry of Scotland_. The two "fytts" of prophecies which accompany it in the manuscripts, are omitted here, as being probably the work of another, and an inferior, hand. From the exordium by which the story is introduced, it might be concluded that the author was an Englishman. Indeed, all the poems and prophecies attributed to Thomas the Rhimer which remain to us, are preserved in English manuscripts and an English dress; but, in the judgment of Mr. Jamieson, the internal evidence still almost amounts to proof that the romance itself was of Scottish origin, although no indubitably Scottish copy is now known to be in existence.

The hero of this legend is believed to have lived through nearly the whole of the 13th century. He derived his territorial appellation from the village of Erceldoune, in the county of Berwick, lying on the river Leader, about two miles above its junction with the Tweed. The Huntly bank on which the meeting of Thomas with the Queen of Fairy took place, is situated, according to Mr. Laing, on one of the Eldoun hills, but the same distinction is claimed for another place of like name, which, together with an adjoining ravine, called from time immemorial the _Rymer's Glen_, was included in the domain of Abbotsford. (See _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, iv. 110. v. 1.)

"During the 14th, 15th, and 16th centuries, to get up a prophecy in the name of Thomas the Rhymer appears to have been found a good stroke of policy on many occasions. Thus was his authority employed to countenance the views of Edward III. against Scottish independence, to favor the ambitious views of the Duke of Albany in the minority of James V., and to sustain the spirits of the nation under the harassing invasions of Henry VIII. A small volume containing a collection of the rhymes thus put into circulation was published by Andro Hart in Edinburgh, in 1615."--CHAMBERS, _Pop. Rhymes of Scotland_, p. 6.

"This poem," says Mr. Laing, "is preserved in three ancient manuscripts, each of them in a state more or less mutilated, and varying in no inconsiderable degree from the others. A portion of it was first printed in the _Border Minstrelsy_, [iv. 122,] from the fragment in the British Museum, among the Cotton MSS.; and the one which Mr. Jamieson adopted in his collection of _Popular Ballads and Songs_ [ii. 11,] was carefully deciphered from a volume of no ordinary curiosity, in the University Library, Cambridge, written in a very illegible hand, about the middle of the 15th century. It is now printed from the other copy, as it occurs in a volume, compiled at a still earlier period, which is preserved in the Cathedral Library of Lincoln. On comparison, it will be readily perceived, that the text is in every respect preferable to that of either of the other manuscripts.... An endeavor has been made to fill up the defective parts from the Cambridge copy, though in some instances, as will be seen, without success."--Mr. Halliwell has republished the Cambridge text in his _Fairy Mythology_, (p. 58,) and he cites a fourth manuscript, which, however, appears to be of slight importance.

THOMAS OF ERSSELDOUNE.

Lystnys, lordyngs, bothe grete and smale,
And takis gude tente what I will say:
I sall yow telle als trewe a tale,
Als euer was herde by nyghte or daye:

And the maste meruelle fforowttyn naye, 5
That euer was herde byfore or syen,
And therfore pristly I yow praye,
That ye will of youre talkyng blyn.

It es an harde thyng for to saye,
Of doghety dedis that hase bene done; 10
Of felle feghtyngs and batells sere;
And how that knyghtis hase wonne thair schone.

Bot Jhesu Christ, that syttis in trone,
Safe Ynglysche men bothe ferre and nere;
And I sall telle yow tyte and sone, 15
Of battells done sythen many a yere;

And of batells that done sall bee;
In whate place, and howe and whare;
And wha sall hafe the heghere gree;
And whethir partye sall hafe the werre; 20

[Transcriber's note: one stanza missing here, lines 21-24]

Wha sall take the flyghte and flee; 25
And wha sall dye and byleue thare:
Bot Jhesu Christ, that dyed on tre,
Saue Inglysche men whare so thay fare.

* * * * *

Als I me wente this endres-daye,
Full faste in mynd makane my mone,
In a mery mornynge of May,
By Huntle bankkes my selfe allone,

I herde the jaye, and the 'throstelle,'[L5] 5
The mawys menyde of hir songe,
The wodewale beryde als a belle,
That all the wode abowte me ronge.

Allone in longynge, thus als I laye,
Vndre nethe a semely tre, 10
'Saw I' whare a lady gaye,
'Came ridand' ouer a longe lee.

If I suld sytt to Domesdaye,
With my tonge, to wrebbe and wrye,
Certanely that lady gaye, 15
Neuer bese scho askryede for mee.

Hir palfraye was a dappill graye;
Swilke one I saghe ne neuer none:
Als dose the sonne, on someres daye,
That faire lady hir selfe scho schone. 20

Hir selle[L21] it was of reele bone,
Full semely was that syghte to see!
Stefly sett with precyous stones,
And compaste all with crapotee,

Stones of Oryence, grete plente. 25
Hir hare abowte hir hede it hange;
Scho rode ouer that lange lee;
A whylle scho blewe, a nother scho sange.

Hir garthes of nobyll sylke they were;
The bukylls were of berelle stone; 30
Hir steraps were of crystalle clere,
And all with perelle ouer bygone.

Hir payetrelle was of iralle fyne;
Hir cropoure was of orfare;
And als clere golde hir brydill it schone; 35
One aythir syde hange bellys three.

'Scho led seuen grew houndis in a leeshe;'
And seuen raches by hir they rone;
Scho bare a horne abowte hir halse;
And vnder hir belte full many a flone. 40

Thomas laye and sawe that syghte,
Vnder nethe ane semly tree;
He sayd, "yone es Marye most of myghte,
That bare that childe that dyede for mee.

"But if I speke with yone lady bryghte, 45
I hope myn herte will bryste in three;
Now sall I go with all my myghte,
Hir for to mete at Eldoun tree."

Thomas rathely vpe he rase,
And he rane ouer that mountayne hye; 50
Gyff it be als the storye sayes,
He hir mette at Eldone tree.

He knelyde down appon his knee,
Vndir nethe that grenwode spraye:--
And sayd, "lufly ladye! rewe one mee; 55
Qwene of heuen, als thu wele maye!"

Then spake that lady milde of thoghte:--
"Thomas, late swylke wordes bee;
Qwene of heuenne, am I noghte,
For I tuke neuer so heghe degre. 60

"Bot I ame of ane other contree,
If I be payrelde moste of prysse;
I ryde aftyre this wylde fee;
My raches rynnys at my devyse."

"If thu be parelde moste of prysse, 65
And here rydis thus in thy folye,
Of lufe, lady, als thu art wysse,
Thou gyffe me leue to lye the bye."

Scho sayde, "thu man, that ware folye;
I praye the, Thomas, thu lat me bee; 70
Ffor I saye the full sekirlye,
That syne will fordoo all my beaute."

"Now lufly ladye rewe on mee,
And I will euer more with the duelle;
Here my trouthe I 'plyghte to thee,' 75
Wethir thu will in heuen or helle."

"Mane of molde, thu will me marre,
But yitt thu sall hafe all thy will;
And trowe it wele, thu chewys the werre,
Ffor alle my beaute will thu spylle." 80

Down than lyghte that lady bryghte,
Vndir nethe that grene wode spraye;
And, als the storye tellis full ryghte,
Seuen sythis by hir he laye.

Scho sayd, "man, the lykes thi playe: 85
What byrde in boure maye delle with the?
Thou merrys me all this longe daye;
I pray the, Thomas, late me bee."

Thomas stode wpe in that stede,
And he byhelde that lady gaye; 90
Hir hare it hange all ouer hir hede,
Hir eghne semede owte, that are were graye.

And all the riche clothynge was awaye,
That he byfore sawe in that stede;
Hir a schanke blake, hir other graye, 95
And all hir body lyke the lede;

Thomas laye, and sawe that syghte,
Vndir nethe that grenewod tree.

Than sayd Thomas, "allas! allas!
In faythe this es a dullfull syghte; 100
How arte thu fadyde thus in the face,
That schane byfore als the sonne so bryght!"

Scho sayd, "Thomas, take leve at sone and mone,
And als at lefe that grewes on tree;
This twelmoneth sall thu with me gone, 105
And medill-erthe thu sall non see."

He knelyd downe appon his knee,
Vndir nethe that grenewod spraye;
And sayd, "Lufly lady![L109] rewe on mee,
Mylde qwene of heuen, als thu beste maye." 110

"Allas!" he sayd, "and wa es mee,
I trewe my dedis will wirke me care;
My saulle, Jhesu, byteche I the,
Whedir come that euer my banes sall fare."

Scho ledde hym in at Eldone hill, 115
Vndir nethe a derne lee;
Whare it was dirk as mydnyght myrke,
And euer the water till his knee.

The montenans of dayes three,
He herd bot swoghyne of the flode; 120
At the laste, he sayde, "full wa es mee!
Almaste I dye, for fawte of fude."

Scho lede hym in till a faire herbere,
Whare frwte was 'growyng in gret plentee;'
Pers and appill, bothe rype thay were, 125
The date, and als the damasee;

The fygge, and als so the wyne-berye;
The nyghtyngales lyggande on thair neste;
The papeioyes faste abowte gan flye;
And throstylls sange, wolde hafe no reste. 130

He pressede to pulle frowte with his hande,
Als man for fude that was nere faynt;
Scho sayd, "Thomas, thu late tham stande,
Or ells the fende the will atteynt.

"If thu it plokk, sothely to say, 135
Thi saule gose to the fyre of helle;
It comes neuer owte or Domesdaye,
Bot ther in payne ay for to duelle.

"Thomas, sothely, I the hyghte,
Come lygge thyn hede down on my knee, 140
And 'thou' sall se the fayreste syghte,
That euer sawe man of thi contree."

He did in hye als scho hym badde;
Appone hir knee his hede he layde,
Ffor hir to paye he was full glade, 145
And than that lady to him sayde--

"Seese thu nowe yone faire waye,
That lyggis ouer yone heghe montayne?--
Yone es the waye to heuen for aye,
When synfull sawles are passed ther payne. 150

"Seese thu nowe yone other waye,
That lygges lawe by nethe yone rysse?
Yone es the waye, the sothe to saye,
Vnto the joye of paradyse.

"Seese thu yitt yone third waye, 155
That ligges vnder yone grene playne?
Yone es the waye, with tene and traye,
Whare synfull saulis suffiris thare payne.

"Bot seese thu nowe yone forthe waye,
That lygges ouer yone depe delle? 160
Yone es the way, so waylawaye,
Vnto the byrnande fyre of hell.

"Seese thu yitt yone faire castelle,
That standes vpone yone heghe hill?
Of towne and towre, it beris the belle; 165
In erthe es none lyk it vntill.

"Ffor sothe, Thomas, yone es myn awenn,
And the kynges of this countree;
Bot me ware leuer hanged and drawen,
Or that he wyste thou laye me by. 170

"When thu commes to yone castelle gay,
I pray the curtase man to bee;
And whate so any man to the saye,
Luke thu answere none bott mee.

"My lorde es seruede at ylk a mese, 175
With thritty knyghttis faire and free;
I sail saye, syttande at the dasse,
I tuke thi speche byyonde the see."

Thomas still als stane he stude.
And he byhelde that lady gaye; 180
Scho come agayne als faire and gude,
And al so ryche one hir palfraye.

Hir grewe hundis fillide with dere blode;
Hir rachis couplede, by my faye;
Scho blewe hir horne with mayne and mode, 185
Vnto the castelle scho tuk the waye.

In to the haulle sothely scho went;
Thomas foloued at hir hande;
Than ladyes come, bothe faire and gent,
With curtassye to hit knelande. 190

Harpe and fethill bothe thay fande,
Getterne, and als so the sawtrye;
Lutte and rybybe, bothe gangande,
And all manere of mynstralsye.

The most meruelle that Thomas thoghte, 195
When that he stode appon the flore;
Ffor feftty hertes in were broghte,
That were bothe 'largely' grete and store.

Raches laye lapande in the blode,
Cokes come with dryssynge knyfe; 200
They brittened tham als thay were wode;
Reuelle amanges thame was full ryfe.

Knyghtis dawnsede by three and three,
Thare was revelle, gamen, and playe,
Lufly ladyes, faire and free, 205
That satte and sange one riche araye.

Thomas duellide in that solace
More than I yowe save, perde;
Till one a daye, so hafe I grace,
My lufly lady sayde to mee: 210

"Do busk the, Thomas,--the busk agayne,[L211]
Ffor thu may here no lengare be;
Hye the faste, with myghte and mayne;
I sall the brynge till Eldone tree."

Thomas sayde than with heuy chere; 215
"Lufly lady, nowe late me bee;
Ffor certis, lady, I hafe bene here
Noghte bot the space of dayes three.

"Ffor sothe, Thomas, als I the telle,
Thou hase bene here thre yere and more; 220
Bot langere here thu may noghte dwelle;
The skylle I sall the telle wherefore.

"To morne, of helle the foulle fende
Amange this folke will feche his fee;
And thu arte mekill man and hende, 225
I trowe full wele he wolde chese the.

"Ffor all the gold that euer may bee,
Ffro hethyn unto the worldis ende,
Thou bese neuer betrayede for mee;
Therefore with me I rede thou wende." 230

Scho broghte hym agayne to Eldone tree,
Vndir nethe that grenewode spraye;
In Huntlee bannkes es mery to bee,
Whare fowles synges bothe nyght and daye.

"Fferre owtt in yone mountane graye, 235
Thomas, my fawkon byggis a neste;--
A fawcoun is an eglis praye;
Fforthi in na place may he reste.

"Ffare well, Thomas; I wend my waye;
Ffor me byhouys ouer thir benttis brown." 240
--Loo here a fytt: more es to saye,
All of Thomas of Erselldown.--

22, Laing, by tene. [Transcriber's note: this refers to line 22 of the first part, which is missing between pages 97 and 98.]

5, Linc. MS. throstylle cokke.

21, sette, Laing.

109, Lufly lady, i.e. Mary.

211, buse agayne.

THOMAS THE RHYMER.

TRADITIONAL VERSION.

_Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, (iv. 117.) "Given from a copy obtained from a lady residing not far from Ercildoune, corrected and enlarged by one in Mrs. Brown's MSS."

True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank;
A ferlie he spied wi' his ee;
And there he saw a ladye bright,
Come riding down by the Eildon Tree.

Her shirt was o' the grass-green silk, 5
Her mantle o' the velvet fyne;
At ilka tett of her horse's mane,
Hung fifty siller bells and nine.

True Thomas, he pull'd aff his cap,
And louted low down to his knee: 10
"All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven!
For thy peer on earth I never did see."--

"O no, O no, Thomas," she said,
"That name does not belang to me;
I am but the Queen of fair Elfland, 15
That am hither come to visit thee.

"Harp and carp, Thomas," she said;
"Harp and carp along wi' me;
And if ye dare to kiss my lips,
Sure of your bodie I will be."-- 20

"Betide me weal, betide me woe,
That weird shall never daunton me."--
Syne he has kissed her rosy lips,
All underneath the Eildon Tree.

"Now, ye maun go wi' me," she said; 25
"True Thomas, ye maun go wi' me;
And ye maun serve me seven years,
Thro' weal or woe as may chance to be."

She mounted on her milk-white steed;
She's ta'en true Thomas up behind: 30
And aye, whene'er her bridle rung,
The steed flew swifter than the wind.

O they rade on, and farther on;
The steed gaed swifter than the wind;
Until they reach'd a desert wide, 35
And living land was left behind.

"Light down, light down, now, true Thomas,
And lean your head upon my knee;
Abide and rest a little space,
And I will shew you ferlies three. 40

"O see ye not yon narrow road,
So thick beset with thorns and briers?
That is the path of righteousness,
Though after it but few enquires.

"And see ye not that braid braid road, 45
That lies across that lily leven?
That is the path of wickedness,
Though some call it the road to heaven.

"And see not ye that bonny road,
That winds about the fernie brae? 50
That is the road to fair Elfland,
Where thou and I this night maun gae.

"But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue,
Whatever ye may hear or see;
For, if you speak word in Elfyn land, 55
Ye'll ne'er get back to your ain countrie."

O they rade on, and farther on,
And they waded through rivers aboon the knee,
And they saw neither sun nor moon,
But they heard the roaring of the sea. 60

It was mirk mirk night, and there was nae stern light,
And they waded through red blude to the knee;
For a' the blude that's shed on earth
Rins through the springs o' that countrie.

Syne they came on to a garden green, 65
And she pu'd an apple frae a tree--
"Take this for thy wages, true Thomas;
It will give thee the tongue that can never lie."--

"My tongue is mine ain," true Thomas said;
"A gudely gift ye wad gie to me![L70] 70
I neither dought to buy nor sell,
At fair or tryst where I may be.

"I dought neither speak to prince or peer,
Nor ask of grace from fair ladye."--
"Now hold thy peace!" the lady said, 75
"For as I say, so must it be."--

He has gotten a coat of the even cloth,
And a pair of shoes of velvet green;
And till seven years were gane and past,
True Thomas on earth was never seen. 80

70. The traditional commentary upon this ballad informs us, that the apple was the produce of the fatal Tree of Knowledge, and that the garden was the terrestrial paradise. The repugnance of Thomas to be debarred the use of falsehood, when he might find it convenient, has a comic effect. SCOTT.

THE YOUNG TAMLANE.