Chapter VI: Book IV: King Estmere (1)

From _Reliques of English Poetry_, i. 65.

"This romantic legend," says Percy, "is given from two copies, one of them in the Editor's folio MS., but which contained very great variations." This second copy has been conjectured to be of Percy's own making, the ballad never having been heard of by any one else, out of his manuscript. Judging from the internal evidence, the alterations made in the printed text were not very serious.

King Easter and King Wester have appeared in the ballad of _Fause Foodrage_, (vol. iii. p. 40.) In another version of the same, they are called the Eastmure king and the Westmure king, (Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, p. lix.) There is also a tale cited in the _Complaynt of Scotland_, (i. 98,) of a king of Estmureland that married the daughter of the king of Westmureland. This is plausibly supposed by Ritson to have been a romance of Horn, in which case the two countries should mean England and Ireland. King Esmer is one of King Diderik's champions (in the Danish ballad, _Kong Diderik og hans K[ae]mper_), and the father of Svend Vonved (in _Svend Vonved_). In the Flemish and German romances of _The Knight of the Swan_, Essmer, or Esmer['e]s, is one of the seven sons of Oriant, and in _Le Dit de Flourence de Romme_ (Jubinal, _Nouveau Recueil de Contes_, etc., i. 88), Esm[e']re is a Roman prince. (Grundtvig, i. 78, 236.) For the nonce, we are told that King Estmere was an English prince, and we may, perhaps, infer from the eighth stanza that King Adland's dominions were on the same island. But no subject of inquiry can be more idle than the geography of the romances.

Hearken to me, gentlemen,
Come and you shall heare;
Ile tell you of two of the boldest brethren,
That ever born y-were.

The tone of them was Adler yonge, 5
The tother was kyng Estmere;
They were as bolde men in their deedes
As any were, farr and neare.

As they were drinking ale and wine
Within kyng Estmeres halle, 10
"When will ye marry a wyfe, brother,
A wyfe to gladd us all?"

Then bespake him kyng Estmere,
And answered him hartilye:
"I knowe not that ladye in any lande, 15
That is able to marry with mee."

"Kyng Adland hath a daughter, brother,
Men call her bright and sheene;
If I were kyng here in your stead,
That ladye shold be queene." 20

Sayes, "Reade me, reade me, deare brother,
Throughout merry England,
Where we might find a messenger
Betweene us two to sende."

Sayes, "You shall ryde yourselfe, brother, 25
Ile beare you companee;
Many throughe fals messengers are deceived,[L27]
And I feare lest soe shold wee."

Thus they renisht them to ryde
On twoe good renisht steedes, 30
And when they came to kyng Adlands halle,
Of red golde shone their weedes.

And when they came to kyng Adlands halle,
Before the goodlye yate,
Ther they found good kyng Adland, 35
Rearing himselfe theratt.

"Nowe Christ thee save, good kyng Adland,
Nowe Christ thee save and see:"
Sayd, "You be welcome, kyng Estmere,
Right hartilye to mee." 40

"You have a daughter," sayd Adler yonge,
"Men call her bright and sheene;
My brother wold marrye her to his wiffe,
Of Englande to be queene."

"Yesterdaye was att my dere daughter 45
The king his sonne of Spayn;
And then she nicked him of naye;
I feare sheele do youe the same."

"The kyng of Spayne is a foule paynim,
And 'leeveth on Mahound, 50
And pitye it were that fayre ladye
Shold marrye a heathen hound."

"But grant to me," sayes kyng Estmere,
"For my love I you praye,
That I may see your daughter dere 55
Before I goe hence awaye."

"Althoughe itt is seven yeare and more
Syth my daughter was in halle,
She shall come downe once for your sake,
To glad my guest[e']s alle." 60

Downe then came that mayden fayre,
With ladyes lacede in pall,
And halfe a hondred of bolde knightes,
To bring her from bowre to hall,
And eke as manye gentle squieres, 65
To waite upon them all.

The talents of golde were on her head sette,
Hunge lowe downe to her knee;
And everye rynge on her small finger
Shone of the chrystall free. 70

Sayes, "Christ you save, my deare madame,"
Sayes, "Christ you save and see:"
Sayes, "You be welcome, kyng Estmere,
Right welcome unto mee.

"And iff you love me, as you saye, 75
So well and hartilee,
All that ever you are comen about
Soone sped now itt may bee."

Then bespake her father deare,
"My daughter, I saye naye; 80
Remember well the kyng of Spayne,
What he sayd yesterdaye.

"He wold pull downe my halles and castles,
And reave me of my lyfe:
And ever I feare that paynim kyng, 85
Iff I reave him of his wyfe."

"Your castles and your towres, father,
Are stronglye built aboute;
And therefore of that foule paynim
Wee neede not stande in doubte. 90

"Plyght me your troth nowe, kyng Estmere,
By heaven and your righte hande,
That you will marrye me to your wyfe,
And make me queene of your land."

Then kyng Estmere he plight his troth 95
By heaven and his righte hand,
That he wolde marrye her to his wyfe,
And make her queene of his land.

And he tooke leave of that ladye fayre,
To goe to his owne countree, 100
To fetche him dukes and lordes and knightes,
That marryed they might bee.

They had not ridden scant a myle,
A myle forthe of the towne,
But in did come the kynge of Spayne, 105
With kemp[e']s many a one:

But in did come the kyng of Spayne,
With manye a grimme barone,
Tone day to marrye kyng Adlands daughter,
Tother daye to carrye her home. 110

Then shee sent after kyng Estmere,
In all the spede might bee,
That he must either returne and fighte,
Or goe home and lose his ladye.

One whyle then the page he went, 115
Another whyle he ranne;
Till he had oretaken king Estmere,
Iwis he never blanne.

"Tydinges, tydinges, kyng Estmere!"
"What tydinges nowe, my boye?" 120
"O tydinges I can tell to you,
That will you sore annoye.

"You had not ridden scant a myle,
A myle out of the towne,
But in did come the kyng of Spayne 125
With kemp[e']s many a one:

"But in did come the kyng of Spayne
With manye a grimme barone,
Tone day to marrye kyng Adlands daughter,
Tother daye to carrye her home. 130

"That ladye fayre she greetes you well,
And ever-more well by mee:
You must either turne againe and fighte,
Or goe home and lose your ladye."

Sayes, "Reade me, reade me, deare brother, 135
My reade shall ryse at thee,[L136]
Whiche way we best may turne and fighte,
To save this fayre ladye."

"Now hearken to me," sayes Adler yonge,
"And your reade must rise at me; 140
I quicklye will devise a waye
To sette thy ladye free.

"My mother was a westerne woman,
And learned in gramarye,
And when I learned at the schole, 145
Something shee taught itt me.

"There groweth an hearbe within this fielde,
And iff it were but knowne,
His color which is whyte and redd,
It will make blacke and browne. 150

"His color which is browne and blacke,
Itt will make redd and whyte;
That sword is not in all Englande,
Upon his coate will byte.

"And you shal be a harper, brother, 155
Out of the north countree;
And Ile be your boye, so faine of fighte,
To beare your harpe by your knee.

"And you shall be the best harper
That ever tooke harpe in hand; 160
And I will be the best singer
That ever sung in this land.

"Itt shal be written in our forheads,
All and in grammarye,
That we towe are the boldest men 165
That are in all Christentye."

And thus they renisht them to ryde,
On towe good renish steedes;
And whan they came to king Adlands hall,
Of redd gold shone their weedes. 170

And whan they came to kyng Adlands hall,
Untill the fayre hall yate,
There they found a proud porter,
Rearing himselfe theratt.

Sayes, "Christ thee save, thou proud porter," 175
Sayes, "Christ thee save and see:"
"Nowe you be welcome," sayd the porter,
"Of what land soever ye bee."

"We been harpers," sayd Adler yonge,
"Come out of the northe countree; 180
We beene come hither untill this place,
This proud weddinge for to see."

Sayd, "And your color were white and redd,
As it is blacke and browne,
Ild saye king Estmere and his brother 185
Were comen untill this towne."

Then they pulled out a ryng of gold,[L187]
Layd itt on the porters arme:
"And ever we will thee, proud porter,
Thow wilt saye us no harme." 190

Sore he looked on kyng Estmere,
And sore he handled the ryng,
Then opened to them the fayre hall yates,
He lett for no kind of thyng.

Kyng Estmere he light off his steede, 195
Up att the fayre hall board;
The frothe that came from his brydle bitte
Light on kyng Bremors beard.

Sayes, "Stable thy steede, thou proud harper,
Go stable him in the stalle; 200
Itt doth not beseeme a proud harper
To stable him in a kyngs halle."

"My ladd he is so lither," he sayd,
"He will do nought that's meete;
And aye that I cold but find the man, 205
Were able him to beate."

"Thou speakst proud words," sayd the paynim king,
"Thou harper, here to mee;
There is a man within this halle,
That will beate thy lad and thee." 210

"O lett that man come downe," he sayd,
"A sight of him wold I see;
And whan hee hath beaten well my ladd,
Then he shall beate of mee."

Downe then came the kemperye man, 215
And looked him in the eare;
For all the gold that was under heaven,
He durst not neigh him neare.

"And how nowe, kempe," sayd the kyng of Spayne,
"And how what aileth thee?" 220
He sayes, "Itt is written in his forhead,
All and in gramarye,
That for all the gold that is under heaven,
I dare not neigh him nye."

Kyng Estmere then pulled forth his harpe, 225
And played thereon so sweete:
Upstarte the ladye from the kynge,
As hee sate at the meate.

"Now stay thy harpe, thou proud harper,
Now stay thy harpe, I say; 230
For an thou playest as thou beginnest,
Thou'lt till my bride awaye."

He strucke upon his harpe agayne,
And playd both fayre and free;
The ladye was so pleasde theratt, 235
She laught loud laughters three.

"Nowe sell me thy harpe," sayd the kyng of Spayne,
"Thy harpe and stryngs eche one,
And as many gold nobles thou shalt have,
As there be stryngs thereon." 240

"And what wold ye doe with my harpe," he sayd,
Iff I did sell it yee?"
"To playe my wiffe and me a fitt,
When abed together we bee."

"Now sell me," quoth hee, "thy bryde soe gay, 245
As shee sitts laced in pall,
And as many gold nobles I will give,
As there be rings in the hall."

"And what wold ye doe with my bryde soe gay,
Iff I did sell her yee? 250
More seemelye it is for her fayre bodye
To lye by mee than thee."

Hee played agayne both loud and shrille,
And Adler he did syng,
"O ladye, this is thy owne true love; 255
Noe harper, but a kyng.

"O ladye, this is thy owne true love,
As playnlye thou mayest see;
And Ile rid thee of that foule paynim,
Who partes thy love and thee." 260

The ladye looked, the ladye blushte,
And blushte and lookt agayne,
While Adler he hath drawne his brande,
And hath the Sowdan slayne.

Up then rose the kemperye men, 265
And loud they gan to crye:
"Ah! traytors, yee have slayne our kyng,
And therefore yee shall dye."

Kyng Estmere threwe the harpe asyde,
And swith he drew his brand; 270
And Estmere he, and Adler yonge,
Right stiffe in stour can stand.

And aye their swordes soe sore can byte,
Through helpe of gramarye,
That soone they have slayne the kempery men, 275
Or forst them forth to flee.

Kyng Estmere tooke that fayre ladye,
And marryed her to his wiffe,
And brought her home to merrye England,
With her to leade his life. 280

27. MS. Many a man ... is.

136. MS. ryde, but see v. 140.

v. 187.

Then they pulled out a ryng of gold,
Layd itt on the porters arme.

The rings so often used in ballads to conciliate the porter would seem to be not personal ornaments, but coins. For an account of Ring Money, see the paper of Sir William Betham, in the seventeenth volume of the _Transactions of the Royal Irish Academy_.

SIR CAULINE.

From _Reliques of English Poetry_, i. 44.

"This old romantic tale," says Percy, "was preserved in the Editor's folio MS., but in so very defective and mutilated a condition, (not from any chasm in the MS., but from great omission in the transcript, probably copied from the faulty recitation of some illiterate minstrel,) that it was necessary to supply several stanzas in the first part, and still more in the second, to connect and complete the story."

Many of the interpolations acknowledged in such general terms might with some confidence be pointed out. Among them are certainly most, if not all, of the last twelve stanzas of the Second Part, which include the catastrophe to the story. It is difficult to believe that this charming romance had so tragic and so sentimental a conclusion.

The first part of this ballad is preserved in Scotland, under the title of _King Malcolm and Sir Colvin_, and is printed in our Appendix from Buchan's collection. In this, Sir Colvin weds the princess after his victory over the Elrick knight.

THE FIRST PART.

In Ireland, ferr over the sea,
There dwelleth a bonnye kinge;
And with him a yong and comlye knighte,
Men call him Syr Cauline.

The kinge had a ladye to his daughter, 5
In fashyon she hath no peere;
And princely wightes that ladye wooed
To be theyr wedded feere.

Syr Cauline loveth her best of all,
But nothing durst he saye, 10
Ne descreeve his counsayl to no man,
But deerlye he lovde this may.

Till on a daye it so beffell
Great dill to him was dight;
The maydens love removde his mynd, 15
To care-bed went the knighte.

One while he spred his armes him fro,
One while he spred them nye:
"And aye! but I winne that ladyes love,
For dole now I mun dye." 20

And whan our parish-masse was done,
Our kinge was bowne to dyne:
He sayes, "Where is Syr Cauline,
That is wont to serve the wyne?"

Then aunswerde him a courteous knighte, 25
And fast his handes gan wringe:
"Syr Cauline is sicke, and like to dye,
Without a good leechinge."

"Fetche me downe my daughter deere,
She is a leeche fulle fine; 30
Goe take him doughe and the baken bread,
And serve him with the wyne soe red:
Lothe I were him to tine."

Fair Christabelle to his chaumber goes,
Her maydens followyng nye: 35
"O well," she sayth, "how doth my lord?"
"O sicke, thou fayr ladye."

"Nowe ryse up wightlye, man, for shame,
Never lye soe cowardlee;
For it is told in my fathers halle 40
You dye for love of mee."

"Fayre ladye, it is for your love
That all this dill I drye:
For if you wold comfort me with a kisse,
Then were I brought from bale to blisse, 45
No lenger wold I lye."

"Sir knighte, my father is a kinge,
I am his onlye heire;
Alas! and well you knowe, syr knighte,
I never can be youre fere." 50

"O ladye, thou art a kinges daughter,
And I am not thy peere;
But let me doe some deedes of armes,
To be your bacheleere."

"Some deedes of armes if thou wilt doe, 55
My bacheleere to bee,
(But ever and aye my heart wold rue,
Giff harm shold happe to thee,)

"Upon Eldridge hill there groweth a thorne,
Upon the mores brodinge; 60
And dare ye, syr knighte, wake there all nighte,
Untile the fayre morninge?

"For the Eldridge knighte, so mickle of mighte,
Will examine you beforne;
And never man bare life awaye, 65
But he did him scath and scorne.

"That knighte he is a foul paynim,
And large of limb and bone;
And but if heaven may be thy speede,
Thy life it is but gone." 70

"Nowe on the Eldridge hilles Ile walke,
For thy sake, fair ladie;
And Ile either bring you a ready token,
Or Ile never more you see."

The lady has gone to her own chaumbere, 75
Her maydens following bright;
Syr Cauline lope from care-bed soone,
And to the Eldridge hills is gone,
For to wake there all night.

Unto midnight, that the moone did rise, 80
He walked up and downe;
Then a lightsome bugle heard he blowe
Over the bents soe browne;
Quoth hee, "If cryance come till my heart,
I am ffar from any good towne." 85

And soone he spyde on the mores so broad
A furyous wight and fell;
A ladye bright his brydle led,
Clad in a fayre kyrtell:

And soe fast he called on Syr Cauline, 90
"O man, I rede thee flye,
For but if cryance come till thy heart,[L92]
I weene but thou mun dye."

He sayth, "No cryance comes till my heart,[L94]
Nor, in faith, I wyll not flee; 95
For, cause thou minged not Christ before,
The less me dreadeth thee."

The Eldridge knighte, he pricked his steed;
Syr Cauline bold abode:
Then either shooke his trustye speare, 100
And the timber these two children bare
Soe soone in sunder slode.

Then tooke they out theyr two good swordes,
And layden on full faste,
Till helme and hawberke, mail and sheelde, 105
They all were well-nye brast.

The Eldridge knight was mickle of might,
And stiffe in stower did stande;
But Syr Cauline with an aukeward stroke
He smote off his right-hand; 110
That soone he, with paine and lacke of bloud,
Fell downe on that lay-land.

Then up Syr Cauline lift his brande
All over his head so hye:
"And here I sweare by the holy roode, 115
Nowe, caytiffe, thou shalt dye."

Then up and came that ladye brighte,
Faste ringing of her hande:
"For the maydens love, that most you love,
Withhold that deadlye brande: 120

"For the maydens love that most you love,
Now smyte no more I praye;
And aye whatever thou wilt, my lord,
He shall thy hests obaye."

"Now sweare to mee, thou Eldridge knighte, 125
And here on this lay-land,
That thou wilt believe on Christ his laye,
And therto plight thy hand:

"And that thou never on Eldridge [hill] come
To sporte, gamon, or playe; 130
And that thou here give up thy armes
Until thy dying daye."

The Eldridge knighte gave up his armes,
With many a sorrowfulle sighe;
And sware to obey Syr Caulines hest, 135
Till the tyme that he shold dye.

And he then up, and the Eldridge knighte
Sett him in his saddle anone;
And the Eldridge knighte and his ladye,
To theyr castle are they gone. 140

Then he tooke up the bloudy hand,
That was so large of bone,
And on it he founde five ringes of gold,
Of knightes that had be slone.

Then he tooke up the Eldridge sworde, 145
As hard as any flint;
And he tooke off those ringes five,
As bright as fyre and brent.

Home then pricked Syr Cauline,
As light as leafe on tree; 150
I-wys he neither stint ne blanne,
Till he his ladye see.

Then downe he knelt upon his knee,
Before that lady gay:
"O ladye, I have bin on the Eldridge hills; 155
These tokens I bring away."

"Now welcome, welcome, Syr Cauline,
Thrice welcome unto mee,
For now I perceive thou art a true knighte,
Of valour bolde and free." 160

"O ladye, I am thy own true knighte,
Thy hests for to obaye;
And mought I hope to winne thy love!"--
No more his tonge colde say.

The ladye blushed scarlette redde, 165
And fette a gentill sighe:
"Alas! syr knight, how may this bee,
For my degree's soe highe?

"But sith thou hast hight, thou comely youth,
To be my batchilere, 170
Ile promise, if thee I may not wedde,
I will have none other fere."

Then shee held forthe her liley-white hand
Towards that knighte so free;
He gave to it one gentill kisse, 175
His heart was brought from bale to blisse,
The teares sterte from his ee.

"But keep my counsayl, Syr Cauline,
Ne let no man it knowe;
For, and ever my father sholde it ken, 180
I wot he wolde us sloe."

From that daye forthe, that ladye fayre
Lovde Syr Cauline the knighte;
From that daye forthe, he only joyde
Whan shee was in his sight. 185

Yea, and oftentimes they mette
Within a fayre arboure,
Where they, in love and sweet daliaunce,
Past manye a pleasaunt houre.

92, MS. For if.

94, No inserted.

THE SECOND PART.

Everye white will have its blacke,
And everye sweete its sowre:
This founde the Ladye Christabelle
In an untimely howre.

For so it befelle, as Syr Cauline 5
Was with that ladye faire,
The kinge, her father, walked forthe
To take the evenyng aire:

And into the arboure as he went
To rest his wearye feet, 10
He found his daughter and Syr Cauline
There sette in daliaunce sweet.

The kinge hee sterted forthe, i-wys,
And an angrye man was hee:
"Nowe, traytoure, thou shalt hange or drawe 15
And rewe shall thy ladie."

Then forthe Syr Cauline he was ledde,
And throwne in dungeon deepe:
And the ladye into a towre so hye,
There left to wayle and weepe. 20

The queene she was Syr Caulines friend,
And to the kinge sayd shee:
"I praye you save Syr Caulines life,
And let him banisht bee."

"Now, dame, that traitor shall be sent 25
Across the salt sea fome:
But here I will make thee a band,
If ever he come within this land,
A foule deathe is his doome."

All woe-begone was that gentil knight 30
To parte from his ladye;
And many a time he sighed sore,
And cast a wistfulle eye:
"Faire Christabelle, from thee to parte,
Farre lever had I dye." 35

Fair Christabelle, that ladye bright,
Was had forthe of the towre;
But ever shee droopeth in her minde,
As, nipt by an ungentle winde,
Doth some faire lillye flowre. 40

And ever shee doth lament and weepe,
To tint her lover soe:
"Syr Cauline, thou little think'st on mee,
But I will still be true."

Manye a kinge, and manye a duke, 45
And lorde of high degree,
Did sue to that fayre ladye of love;
But never shee wolde them nee.

When manye a daye was past and gone,
Ne comforte she colde finde, 50
The kynge proclaimed a tourneament,
To cheere his daughters mind.

And there came lords, and there came knights,
Fro manye a farre countrye,
To break a spere for theyr ladyes love, 55
Before that faire ladye.

And many a ladye there was sette,
In purple and in palle;
But faire Christabelle, soe woe-begone,
Was the fayrest of them all. 60

Then manye a knighte was mickle of might,
Before his ladye gaye;
But a stranger wight, whom no man knewe,
He wan the prize eche daye.

His acton it was all of blacke, 65
His hewberke and his sheelde;
Ne noe man wist whence he did come,
Ne noe man knewe where he did gone,
When they came out the feelde.[L69]

And now three days were prestlye past 70
In feates of chivalrye,
When lo, upon the fourth morninge,
A sorrowfulle sight they see:

A hugye giaunt stiffe and starke,
All foule of limbe and lere, 75
Two goggling eyen like fire farden,
A mouthe from eare to eare.

Before him came a dwarffe full lowe,
That waited on his knee;
And at his backe five heads he bare, 80
All wan and pale of blee.

"Sir," quoth the dwarffe, and louted lowe,
"Behold that hend Soldain!
Behold these heads I beare with me!
They are kings which he hath slain. 85

"The Eldridge knight is his own cousine,
Whom a knight of thine hath shent;
And hee is come to avenge his wrong:
And to thee, all thy knightes among,
Defiance here hath sent. 90

"But yette he will appease his wrath,
Thy daughters love to winne;
And, but thou yeelde him that fayre mayd,
Thy halls and towers must brenne.

"Thy head, syr king, must goe with mee, 95
Or else thy daughter deere:
Or else within these lists soe broad,
Thou must finde him a peere."

The king he turned him round aboute,
And in his heart was woe: 100
"Is there never a knighte of my round table
This matter will undergoe?

"Is there never a knighte amongst yee all
Will fight for my daughter and mee?
Whoever will fight yon grimme Soldan, 105
Right fair his meede shall bee.

"For hee shall have my broad lay-lands,
And of my crowne be heyre;
And he shall winne fayre Christabelle
To be his wedded fere." 110

But every knighte of his round table
Did stand both still and pale;
For, whenever they lookt on the grim Soldan,
It made their hearts to quail.

All woe-begone was that fayre ladye, 115
When she sawe no helpe was nye:
She cast her thought on her owne true-love,
And the teares gusht from her eye.

Up then sterte the stranger knighte,
Sayd, "Ladye, be not affrayd; 120
Ile fight for thee with this grimme Soldan,
Thoughe he be unmacklye made.

"And if thou wilt lend me the Eldridge sworde,
That lyeth within thy bowre,
I truste in Christe for to slay this fiende, 125
Thoughe he be stiff in stowre."

"Goe fetch him downe the Eldridge sworde,"
The kinge he cryde, "with speede:
Nowe, heaven assist thee, courteous knighte;
My daughter is thy meede." 130

The gyaunt he stepped into the lists,
And sayd, "Awaye, awaye!
I sweare, as I am the hend Soldan,
Thou lettest me here all daye."

Then forthe the stranger knight he came, 135
In his blacke armoure dight:
The ladye sighed a gentle sighe,
"That this were my true knighte!"

And nowe the gyaunt and knight be mett
Within the lists soe broad; 140
And now, with swordes soe sharpe of steele,
They gan to lay on load.

The Soldan strucke the knighte a stroke
That made him reele asyde:
Then woe-begone was that fayre ladye, 145
And thrice she deeply sighde.

The Soldan strucke a second stroke,
And made the bloude to flowe:
All pale and wan was that ladye fayre,
And thrice she wept for woe. 150

The Soldan strucke a third fell stroke,
Which brought the knighte on his knee:
Sad sorrow pierced that ladyes heart,
And she shriekt loud shriekings three.

The knighte he leapt upon his feete, 155
All recklesse of the pain:
Quoth hee, "But heaven be now my speede,
Or else I shall be slaine."

He grasped his sworde with mayne and mighte,
And spying a secrette part, 160
He drave it into the Soldans syde,
And pierced him to the heart.

Then all the people gave a shoute,
Whan they sawe the Soldan falle:
The ladye wept, and thanked Christ 165
That had reskewed her from thrall.

And nowe the kinge, with all his barons,
Rose uppe from offe his seate,
And downe he stepped into the listes
That curteous knighte to greete. 170

But he, for payne and lacke of bloude,
Was fallen into a swounde,
And there, all walteringe in his gore,
Lay lifelesse on the grounde.

"Come downe, come downe, my daughter deare, 175
Thou art a leeche of skille;
Farre lever had I lose halfe my landes
Than this good knighte sholde spille."

Downe then steppeth that fayre ladye,
To helpe him if she maye: 180
But when she did his beavere raise,
"It is my life, my lord!" she sayes,
And shriekte and swound awaye.

Sir Cauline juste lifte up his eyes,
When he heard his ladye crye: 185
"O ladye, I am thine owne true love;
For thee I wisht to dye."

Then giving her one partinge looke,
He closed his eyes in death,
Ere Christabelle, that ladye milde, 190
Begane to drawe her breathe.

But when she found her comelye knighte
Indeed was dead and gone,
She layde her pale, cold cheeke to his,
And thus she made her moane: 195

"O staye, my deare and onlye lord,
For mee, thy faithfulle feere;
'Tis meet that I shold followe thee,
Who hast bought my love so deare."

Then fayntinge in a deadlye swoune, 200
And with a deep-fette sighe
That burst her gentle heart in twayne,
Fayre Christabelle did dye.

69. "Syr Cauline here acts up to the genuine spirit of perfect chivalry. In old romances no incident is of more frequent occurrence than this, of knights already distinguished for feats of arms laying aside their wonted cognizances, and, under the semblance of stranger knights, manfully performing right worshipful and valiant deeds. How often is the renowned Arthur, in such exhibitions, obliged to exclaim, "O Jhesu, what knight is that arrayed all in grene (or as the case may be)? he justeth myghtily!" The Emperor of Almaine, in like manner, after the timely succor afforded him by Syr Gowghter, is anxious to learn the name of his modest but unknown deliverer." [So in the romance of _Roswall and Lillian_, &c.]--MOTHERWELL.

FAIR ANNIE.

_Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, iii. 252.

The story of _Fair Annie_ is widely disseminated. The substance of it is found in the beautiful romance of Marie de France, the _Lai le Frein_, of which an ancient English translation is printed in Weber's _Metrical Romances_, i. 357. The Swedish and Danish ballads go under the same name of _Fair Anna_, and may be seen in Arwidsson's _Svenska Forns[oa]nger_, i. 291; Geijer's _Svenska Folk-Visor_, i. 24; and Nyerup's _Danske Viser_, iv. 59. Jamieson has rendered the Danish ballad very skilfully, in the Scottish dialect, from Syv's edition of the _K[ae]mpe Viser_. In Dutch, the characters are Maid Adelhaid and King Alewijn (Hoffmann's _Holl[:a]ndische Volkslieder_, 164.) The story as we have found it in German is considerably changed. See _Die wiedergefundene K[:o]nigstochter_, in _Des Knaben Wunderhorn_, ii. 274, and _S[:u]deli_, Uhland's _Volkslieder_, i. 273.

The Scottish versions of _Fair Annie_ are quite numerous. A fragment of eight stanzas was published in Herd's collection, (_Wha will bake my bridal bread_, ed. 1776, i. 167.) Sir Walter Scott gave a complete copy, from recitation in the _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_. Two other copies, also from oral tradition, were inserted by Jamieson in the Appendix to his _Popular Ballads_, (_Lady Jane_, ii. 371, _Burd Helen_, ii. 376,) and from these he constructed the edition of _Lady Jane_, printed at p. 73 of the same volume. Motherwell (_Minstrelsy_) affords still another variety, and Chambers has compiled a ballad from all these sources and a manuscript furnished by Mr. Kinloch, (_Scottish Ballads_, p. 186.)

In this collection we have adopted the versions of Scott and Motherwell, giving Jamieson's translation of _Skj[oe]n Anna_ in our Appendix.

"It's narrow, narrow, make your bed,
And learn to lie your lane;
For I'm gaun o'er the sea, Fair Annie,
A braw bride to bring hame.
Wi' her I will get gowd and gear; 5
Wi' you I ne'er got nane.

"But wha will bake my bridal bread,
Or brew my bridal ale?
And wha will welcome my brisk bride,
That I bring o'er the dale?"-- 10

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

"But she that welcomes my brisk bride 15
Maun gang like maiden fair;
She maun lace on her robe sae jimp,
And braid her yellow hair."--

"But how can I gang maiden-like,
When maiden I am nane? 20
Have I not born seven sons to thee,
And am with child again?"--

She's ta'en her young son in her arms,
Another in her hand;
And she's up to the highest tower, 25
To see him come to land.

"Come up, come up, my eldest son,
And look o'er yon sea-strand,
And see your father's new-come bride,
Before she come to land."-- 30

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

And she gaed down, and farther down, 35
Her love's ship for to see;
And the topmast and the mainmast
Shone like the silver free.

And she's gane down, and farther down,
The bride's ship to behold; 40
And the topmast and the mainmast
They shone just like the gold.

She's ta'en her seven sons in her hand;
I wot she didna fail!
She met Lord Thomas and his bride, 45
As they came o'er the dale.

"You're welcome to your house, Lord Thomas;
You're welcome to your land;
You're welcome, with your fair ladye,
That you lead by the hand. 50

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

"I thank thee, Annie; I thank thee, Annie; 55
Sae dearly as I thank thee;
You're the likest to my sister Annie,
That ever I did see.

"There came a knight out o'er the sea,
And steal'd my sister away; 60
The shame scoup in his company,
And land where'er he gae!"--

She hang ae napkin at the door,
Another in the ha';
And a' to wipe the trickling tears, 65
Sae fast as they did fa'.

And aye she served the lang tables
With white bread and with wine;
And aye she drank the wan water,
To had her colour fine. 70

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

And he's ta'en down the silk napkin, 75
Hung on a silver pin;
And aye he wipes the tear trickling
Adown her cheek and chin.

And aye he turn'd him round about,
And smiled amang his men, 80
Says--"Like ye best the old ladye,
Or her that's new come hame?"--

When bells were rung, and mass was sung,
And a' men bound to bed,
Lord Thomas and his new-come bride, 85
To their chamber they were gaed.

Annie made her bed a little forbye,
To hear what they might say;
"And ever alas!" fair Annie cried,
"That I should see this day! 90

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

"Gin my seven sons were seven young hares, 95
Running o'er yon lilly lee,
And I were a grew hound mysell,
Soon worried they a' should be."--

And wae and sad fair Annie sat,
And drearie was her sang; 100
And ever, as she sobb'd and grat,
"Wae to the man that did the wrang!"--

"My gown is on," said the new-come bride,
"My shoes are on my feet,
And I will to fair Annie's chamber, 105
And see what gars her greet.--

"What ails ye, what ails ye, Fair Annie,
That ye make sic a moan?
Has your wine barrels cast the girds,
Or is your white bread gone? 110

"O wha was't was your father, Annie,
Or wha was't was your mother?
And had you ony sister, Annie,
Or had you ony brother?"--

"The Earl of Wemyss was my father, 115
The Countess of Wemyss my mother;
And a' the folk about the house,
To me were sister and brother."--

"If the Earl of Wemyss was your father,
I wot sae was he mine; 120
And it shall not be for lack o' gowd,
That ye your love sall tyne.

"For I have seven ships o' mine ain,
A' loaded to the brim;
And I will gie them a' to thee, 125
Wi' four to thine eldest son.
But thanks to a' the powers in heaven
That I gae maiden hame!"

FAIR ANNIE.

Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_, p. 327. Obtained from recitation.

"Learn to mak your bed, Annie,
And learn to lie your lane;
For I maun owre the salt seas gang,
A brisk bride to bring hame.

"Bind up, bind up your yellow hair, 5
And tye it in your neck;
And see you look as maiden-like
As the day that we first met."

"O how can I look maiden-like,
When maiden I'll ne'er be; 10
When seven brave sons I've born to thee,
And the eighth is in my bodie?

"The eldest of your sons, my lord,
Wi' red gold shines his weed;
The second of your sons, my lord, 15
Rides on a milk-white steed.

"And the third of your sons, my lord,
He draws your beer and wine;
And the fourth of your sons, my lord,
Can serve you when you dine. 20

"And the fift of your sons, my lord,
He can both read and write;
And the sixth of your sons, my lord,
Can do it most perfyte.

"And the sevent of your sons, my lord, 25
Sits on the nurse's knee:
And how can I look maiden-like,
When a maid I'll never be?

"But wha will bake your wedding bread,
And brew your bridal ale? 30
Or wha will welcome your brisk bride
That you bring owre the dale?"

"I'll put cooks in my kitchen,
And stewards in my hall,
And I'll have bakers for my bread, 35
And brewers for my ale;
But you're to welcome my brisk bride
That I bring owre the dale."

He set his feet into his ship,
And his cock-boat on the main; 40
He swore it would be year and day
Or he returned again.

When year and day was past and gane,
Fair Annie she thocht lang;
And she is up to her bower head, 45
To behold both sea and land.

"Come up, come up, my eldest son,
And see now what you see;
O yonder comes your father dear,
And your stepmother to be." 50

"Cast off your gown of black, mother,
Put on your gown of brown,
And I'll put off my mourning weeds,
And we'll welcome him home."

She's taken wine into her hand, 55
And she has taken bread,
And she is down to the water side
To welcome them indeed.

"You're welcome, my lord, you're welcome, my lord,
You're welcome home to me; 60
So is every lord and gentleman
That is in your companie.

"You're welcome, my lady, you're welcome, my lady,
You're welcome home to me;
So is every lady and gentleman 65
That's in your companie."

"I thank you, my girl, I thank you, my girl,
I thank you heartily;
If I live seven years about this house,
Rewarded you shall be." 70

She serv'd them up, she serv'd them down,
With the wheat bread and the wine;
But aye she drank the cauld water,
To keep her colour fine.

She serv'd them up, she serv'd them down,
With the wheat bread and the beer; 75
But aye she drank the cauld water,
To keep her colour clear.

When bells were rung and mass was sung,
And all were boune for rest, 80
Fair Annie laid her sons in bed,
And a sorrowfu' woman she was.

"Will I go to the salt, salt seas,
And see the fishes swim?
Or will I go to the gay green wood, 85
And hear the small birds sing?"

Out and spoke an aged man,
That stood behind the door,--
"Ye will not go to the salt, salt seas,
To see the fishes swim; 90
Nor will ye go to the gay green wood,
To hear the small birds sing:

"But ye'll take a harp into your hand,
Go to their chamber door,
And aye ye'll harp and aye ye'll murn, 95
With the salt tears falling o'er."

She's ta'en a harp into her hand,
Went to their chamber door,
And aye she harped and aye she murn'd,
With the salt tears falling o'er. 100

Out and spak the brisk young bride,
In bride-bed where she lay,--
"I think I hear my sister Annie,
And I wish weel it may;
For a Scotish lord staw her awa, 105
And an ill death may he die."

"Wha was your father, my girl," she says,
"Or wha was your mother?
Or had you ever a sister dear,
Or had you ever a brother?" 110

"King Henry was my father dear,
Queen Esther was my mother,
Prince Henry was my brother dear,
And Fanny Flower my sister."

"If King Henry was your father dear, 115
And Queen Esther was your mother,
If Prince Henry was your brother dear,
Then surely I'm your sister.

"Come to your bed, my sister dear,
It ne'er was wrang'd for me, 120
Bot an ae kiss of his merry mouth,
As we cam owre the sea."

"Awa, awa, ye forenoon bride,
Awa, awa frae me;
I wudna hear my Annie greet, 125
For a' the gold I got wi' thee."

"There were five ships of gay red gold
Cam owre the seas with me;
It's twa o' them will tak me hame,
And three I'll leave wi' thee. 130

"Seven ships o' white monie
Came owre the seas wi' me;
Five o' them I'll leave wi' thee,
And twa will take me hame;
And my mother will make my portion up, 135
When I return again."

CHILD WATERS.

First published by Percy from his folio MS., _Reliques_, iii. 94. Several traditionary versions have since been printed, of which we give _Burd Ellen_ from Jamieson's, and in the Appendix, _Lady Margaret_ from Kinloch's collection. Jamieson also furnishes a fragment, and Buchan, (_Ballads of the North of Scotland_, ii. 30,) a complete copy of another version of _Burd Ellen_, and Chambers (_Scottish Ballads_, 193,) makes up an edition from all the copies, which we mention here because he has taken some lines from a manuscript supplied by Mr. Kinloch.

Childe Waters in his stable stoode
And stroakt his milke-white steede;
To him a fayre yonge ladye came
As ever ware womans weede.

Sayes, "Christ you save, good Childe Waters," 5
Sayes, "Christ you save and see;
My girdle of gold that was too longe,
Is now too short for mee.

"And all is with one childe of yours
I feele sturre at my side; 10
My gowne of greene it is too straighte;
Before, it was too wide."

"If the child be mine, faire Ellen," he sayd,[L13]
"Be mine, as you tell mee,
Then take you Cheshire and Lancashire both, 15
Take them your owne to bee.

"If the childe be mine, faire Ellen," he sayd,
"Be mine, as you doe sweare,
Then take you Cheshire and Lancashire both,
And make that child your heyre." 20

Shee sayes, "I had rather have one kisse,
Childe Waters, of thy mouth,
Than I wolde have Cheshire and Lancashire both,
That lye by north and southe.

"And I had rather have one twinkling, 25
Childe Waters, of thine ee,
Than I wolde have Cheshire and Lancashire both,
To take them mine owne to bee."

"To morrowe, Ellen, I must forth ryde
Farr into the north countree; 30
The fayrest lady that I can finde,
Ellen, must goe with mee."

"Thoughe I am not that ladye fayre,[L33]
Yet let me go with thee:
And ever I pray you, Childe Waters, 35
Your foot-page let me bee."

"If you will my foot-page bee, Ellen,
As you doe tell to mee,
Then you must cut your gowne of greene
An inch above your knee: 40

"Soe must you doe your yellowe lockes,
An inch above your ee;
You must tell no man what is my name;
My foot-page then you shall bee."

Shee, all the long daye Childe Waters rode, 45
Ran barefoote by his syde,
Yet was he never soe courteous a knighte,
To say, "Ellen, will you ryde?"

Shee, all the long daye Childe Waters rode,
Ran barefoote thorow the broome, 50
Yett was hee never soe courteous a knighte,
To say, "put on your shoone."

"Ride softlye," shee sayd, "O Childe Waters:
Why doe you ryde so fast?
The childe, which is no mans but thine, 55
My bodye itt will brast."

Hee sayth, "seest thou yond water, Ellen,
That flows from banke to brimme?"
"I trust to God, O Childe Waters,
You never will see me swimme." 60

But when shee came to the water side,
She sayled to the chinne:
"Now the Lord of heaven be my speede,
For I must learne to swimme."

The salt waters bare up her clothes, 65
Our Ladye bare up her chinne;
Childe Waters was a woe man, good Lord,
To see faire Ellen swimme!

And when shee over the water was,
Shee then came to his knee: 70
Hee sayd, "Come hither, thou fayre Ellen,
Loe yonder what I see.

"Seest thou not yonder hall, Ellen?
Of redd gold shines the yate:
Of twenty foure faire ladyes there, 75
The fairest is my mate.

"Seest thou not yonder hall, Ellen?
Of redd golde shines the towre:
There are twenty four fayre ladyes there,
The fayrest is my paramoure." 80

"I see the hall now, Childe Waters,
Of redd golde shines the yate:
God give you good now of yourselfe,
And of your worldlye mate.

"I see the hall now, Childe Waters, 85
Of redd golde shines the towre:
God give you good now of yourselfe,
And of your paramoure."

There twenty four fayre ladyes were
A playing at the ball, 90
And Ellen, the fayrest ladye there,
Must bring his steed to the stall.

There twenty four fayre ladyes were
A playinge at the chesse,
And Ellen, the fayrest ladye there, 95
Must bring his horse to gresse.

And then bespake Childe Waters sister,
These were the wordes sayd shee:
"You have the prettyest page, brother,
That ever I did see; 100

"But that his bellye it is soe bigge,
His girdle stands soe hye;
And ever, I pray you, Childe Waters,
Let him in my chamber lye."

"It is not fit for a little foot-page, 105
That has run throughe mosse and myre,
To lye in the chamber of any ladye,
That weares soe riche attyre.

"It is more meete for a little foot-page,
That has run throughe mosse and myre, 110
To take his supper upon his knee,
And lye by the kitchen fyre."

Now when they had supped every one,
To bedd they tooke theyr waye:
He sayd, "Come hither, my little foot-page, 115
And hearken what I saye.

"Goe thee downe into yonder towne,
And lowe into the streete;
The fayrest ladye that thou canst finde,
Hyre in mine armes to sleepe; 120
And take her up in thine armes twaine,
For filing of her feete."

Ellen is gone into the towne,
And lowe into the streete;
The fayrest ladye that shee colde finde, 125
She hyred in his armes to sleepe;
And tooke her up in her armes twayne,
For filing of her feete.

"I praye you nowe, good Childe Waters,
Let mee lye at your feete;
For there is noe place about this house, 130
Where I may saye a sleepe."

He gave her leave, and faire Ellen[L133]
Down at his beds feet laye;
This done the nighte drove on apace, 135
And when it was neare the daye,

Hee sayd, "Rise up, my little foot-page,
Give my steede corne and haye;
And give him nowe the good black oats,
To carry mee better awaye." 140

Up then rose the faire Ellen,
And gave his steede corne and hay;
And soe shee did the good black oates,
To carry him the better awaye.

She leaned her back to the manger side, 145
And grievouslye did groane;
She leaned her back to the manger side,
And there shee made her moane.

And that beheard his mother deare,
Shee heard her woefull woe:[L150] 150
Shee sayd, "Rise up, thou Childe Waters,
And into thy stable goe.

"For in thy stable is a ghost,
That grievouslye doth grone;
Or else some woman laboures with childe, 155
Shee is so woe-begone."

Up then rose Childe Waters soone,
And did on his shirte of silke;
And then he put on his other clothes,
On his bodye as white as milke. 160

And when he came to the stable dore,
Full still there hee did stand,
That hee mighte heare his fayre Ellen,
Howe shee made her monand.

She sayd, "Lullabye, mine own dear childe, 165
Lullabye, deare childe, deare;
I wolde thy father were a kinge,
Thy mothere layd on a biere."

"Peace nowe," hee sayd, "good, faire Ellen,
Bee of good cheere, I praye; 170
And the bridale and the churchinge bothe
Shall bee upon one daye.

13, MS. be inne.

33, 34, supplied by Percy.

133, 134, supplied by Percy.

150, her woefull woe, Percy!

BURD ELLEN.

Printed from Mrs. Brown's recitation, in Jamieson's _Popular Ballads_, i. 117. We have restored the text by omitting some interpolations of the editor, and three concluding stanzas by the same, which, contrary to all authority, gave a tragic turn to the story.

Lord John stood in his stable door,
Said he was boun to ride;
Burd Ellen stood in her bower door,
Said she'd rin by his side.

He's pitten on his cork-heel'd shoon, 5
And fast awa rade he;
She's clad hersel in page array,
And after him ran she:

Till they came till a wan water,
And folks do call it Clyde; 10
Then he's lookit o'er his left shoulder,
Says, "Lady, will ye ride?"

"O I learnt it wi' my bower woman,
And I learnt it for my weal,
Whanever I cam to wan water, 15
To swim like ony eel."

But the firsten stap the lady stappit,
The water came till her knee;
"Ochon, alas!" said the lady,
"This water's o'er deep for me." 20

The nexten stap the lady stappit,
The water came till her middle;
And sighin says that gay lady,
"I've wat my gouden girdle."

The thirden stap the lady stappit, 25
The water came till her pap;
And the bairn that was in her twa sides
For cauld began to quake.

"Lie still, lie still, my ain dear babe;
Ye work your mother wae: 30
Your father rides on high horse back,
Cares little for us twae."

O about the midst o' Clyde's water
There was a yeard-fast stane;
He lightly turn'd his horse about, 35
And took her on him behin.

"O tell me this now, good lord John,
And a word ye dinna lie,
How far it is to your lodgin,
Whare we this night maun be?" 40

"O see na ye yon castell, Ellen,
That shines sae fair to see?
There is a lady in it, Ellen,
Will sinder you and me.

"There is a lady in that castell 45
Will sinder you and I"--
"Betide me weal, betide me wae,
I sall gang there and try."

"My dogs shall eat the good white bread,
And ye shall eat the bran; 50
Then will ye sigh, and say, alas!
That ever I was a man!"

"O I shall eat the good white bread,
And your dogs shall eat the bran;
And I hope to live to bless the day, 55
That ever ye was a man."

"O my horse shall eat the good white meal,
And ye sall eat the corn;
Then will ye curse the heavy hour
That ever your love was born." 60

["O I shall eat the good white meal,
And your horse shall eat the corn;][L62]
I ay sall bless the happy hour
That ever my love was born."

O four and twenty gay ladies 65
Welcom'd lord John to the ha',
But a fairer lady than them a'
Led his horse to the stable sta.'

O four and twenty gay ladies
Welcom'd lord John to the green; 70
But a fairer lady than them a'
At the manger stood alane.

When bells were rung, and mass was sung,
And a' men boun to meat,
Burd Ellen was at the bye-table 75
Amang the pages set.

"O eat and drink, my bonny boy,
The white bread and the beer."--
"The never a bit can I eat or drink,
My heart's sae fu' o' fear." 80

"O eat and drink, my bonny boy,
The white bread and the wine."--
"O how sall I eat or drink, master,
Wi' heart sae fu' o' pine?"

But out and spak lord John's mother, 85
And a wise woman was she:
"Whare met ye wi' that bonny boy,
That looks sae sad on thee?

Sometimes his cheek is rosy red,
And sometimes deadly wan; 90
He's liker a woman big wi' bairn,
Than a young lord's serving man."

"O it makes me laugh, my mother dear,
Sic words to hear frae thee;
He is a squire's ae dearest son, 95
That for love has followed me.