Chapter X: Part THE SECOND (1)

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 Caulìne 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 Caulìne
There sette in daliaunce sweet.

The kinge hee sterted forthe, i-wys,[383]
And an angrye man was hee:
Nowe, traytoure, thou shalt hange or drawe, 15
And rewe shall thy ladìe.

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,[384]
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 ladyè;
And many a time he sighed sore,
And cast a wistfulle eye:
Faire Christabelle, from thee to parte,
Farre lever[385] had I dye. 35

Faire 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[386] her lover soe:
Syr Cauline, thou little think'st on mee,
But I will still be true.

Manye a kynge, and manye a duke, 45
And lorde of high degree,
Did sue to that fayre ladye of love;
But never shee wolde them nee.[387]

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 countryè,
To break a spere for theyr ladyes love 55
Before that faire ladyè.

And many a ladye there was sette
In purple and in palle:[388]
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[389] it was all of blacke, 65
His hewberke,[390] and his sheelde,
Ne noe man wist whence he did come,
Ne noe man knewe where he did gone,
When they came from the feelde.

And now three days were prestlye[391] past 70
In feates of chivalrye,
When lo upon the fourth mornìnge
A sorrowfulle sight they see.

A hugye giaunt stiffe and starke,
All foule of limbe and lere;[392] 75
Two goggling eyen like fire farden,[393]
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.[394]

Sir, quoth the dwarffe, and louted[395] lowe,
Behold that hend[396] Soldàin!
Behold these heads I beare with me!
They are kings which he hath slain. 85

The Eldridge knìght is his own cousìne,
Whom a knight of thine hath shent:[397]
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.[398]

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.[399]

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

[Is there never a knighte amongst yee all
Will fight for my daughter and mee?
Whoever will fight yon grimme soldàn, 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 soldàn,
It made their hearts to quail.

All woe-begone was that fayre ladyè, 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 soldàn,
Thoughe he be unmacklye[400] 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.[401] 130

The gyaunt he stepped into the lists,
And sayd, Awaye, awaye:
I sweare, as I am the hend soldàn,
Thou lettest[402] 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 knighte be mett
Within the lists soe broad; 140
And now with swordes soe sharpe of steele,
They gan to lay on load.[403]

The soldan strucke the knighte a stroke,
That made him reele asyde;
Then woe-begone was that fayre ladyè, 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[404] heaven be now my speede,
Or else[405] I shall be slaine.

He grasped his sworde with mayne and mighte,
And spying a secrette part, 160
He drave it into the soldan's 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.[406]

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

But he for payne and lacke of bloude
Was fallen intò 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[407] had I lose halfe my landes,
Than this good knighte sholde spille.[408]

Downe then steppeth that fayre ladyè,
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;[409]
'Tis meet that I shold followe thee,
Who hast bought my love soe deare.

Then fayntinge in a deadlye swoune, 200
And with a deepe-fette[410] sighe,
That burst her gentle hearte in twayne,
Fayre Christabelle did dye.]

[***]

[The following is the original ballad from which Percy concocted
his own. It is reprinted from _Bishop Percy's Folio MS., ed.
Hales and Furnivall_, vol. iii. p. 1.

Iesus: lord mickle of might,
_tha_t dyed ffor vs on the roode
to maintaine vs in all our right,
_tha_t loues true English blood.

ffor by a K_nigh_t I say my song, 5
was bold & ffull hardye;
S_i_r Robert Briuse wold fforth to ffight
in-to Ireland ouer the sea;

& in _tha_t land dwells a king
_whi_ch ouer all does beare the bell, 10
& w_i_th him there dwelled a curteous K_nigh_t,
men call him S_i_r Cawline.

And he hath a Ladye to his daughter,
of ffashyon shee hath noe peere;
K_night_s & lordes they woed her both, 15
trusted to haue beene her peere.

S_i_r Cawline loues her best of oné,
but nothing durst hee say
to discreeue his councell to noe man,
but deerlye loued this mayd. 20

till itt beffell vpon a day,
great dill to him was dight;
the maydens loue remoued his mind,
to care bed went the Knight;

& one while he spread his armes him ffroe, 25
& cryed soe pittyouslye
"ffor the maydens loue _tha_t I haue most minde,
this day may comfort mee,
or else ere noone I shalbe dead!"
thus can S_i_r Cawline say. 30

when our p_ar_ish masse _tha_t itt was done,
& our king was bowne to dine,
he sayes, "where is S_i_r Cawline
_tha_t was wont to serue me w_i_th ale and wine?"

but then answered a curteous K_nigh_t 35
ffast wringinge his hands,
"S_i_r Cawlines sicke, & like to be dead
w_i_thout and a good leedginge."

"ffeitch yee downe my daughter deere,
shee is a Leeche ffull ffine; 40
I, and take you doe & the baken bread,
and eene on the wine soe red,
& looke no day[n]tinesse ffor him to deare,
for ffull loth I wold him teene."

this Ladye is gone to his chamber, 45
her maydens ffollowing Nye,
"O well," shee sayth, "how doth my Lord?"
"O sicke!" againe saith hee.

"I, but rise vp wightlye, man, for shame:
neuer lye soe cowardlye here! 50
itt is told in my ffathers hall,
ffor my loue you will dye."

"itt is ffor y_ou_r Loue, ffayre Ladye,
_tha_t all this dill I drye.
ffor if you wold comfort me w_i_th a Kisse, 55
then were I brought ffrom bale to blisse,
noe longer here wold I lye."

"alas! soe well you know, S_i_r K_nigh_t,
I cannott bee yo_u_r peere."
"ffor some deeds of armes ffaine wold I doe 60
to be yo_u_r Bacheeleere."

"vpon Eldridge hill there growes a thorne
vpon the mores brodinge;
& wold you, S_i_r Knight, wake there all night
to day of the other Morninge? 65

"ffor the Eldrige K_ing tha_t is mickle of Might
will examine you beforne;
& there was neuer man _tha_t bare his liffe away
since the day _tha_t I was borne."

"but I will ffor yo_u_r sake, ffaire Ladye, 70
walke on the bents [soe] browne,
& Ile either bring you a readye token
or Ile neuer come to you againe."

but this Ladye is gone to her Chamber,
her Maydens ffollowing bright; 75
& S_i_r Cawlins gone to the mores soe broad,
ffor to wake there all night.

vnto midnight they Moone did rise,
he walked vp and downe,
& a lightsome bugle then heard he blow 80
ouer the bents soe browne.
saies hee, "and if cryance come vntill my hart,
I am ffarr ffrom any good towne;"

& he spyed ene a litle him by,
a ffuryous King and a ffell, 85
& a ladye bright his brydle led,
_tha_t seemlye itt was to see;

& soe fast hee called vpon S_i_r Cawline,
"Oh man, I redd thee fflye!
ffor if cryance come vntill thy hart, 90
I am a-feard least thou mun dye."

he sayes, "[no] cryance comes to my hart,
nor ifaith I ffeare not thee;
ffor because thou minged not christ before,
Thee lesse me dreadeth thee." 95

but S_i_r Cawline he shooke a speare,
the K_ing_ was bold, and abode,
& the timber these 2 Children bore
soe soone in sunder slode,
ffor they tooke & 2 good swords, 100
& they Layden on good Loade.

but the Elridge K_ing_ was mickle of might,
& stiffly to the ground did stand;
but S_i_r Cawline w_i_th an aukeward stroke
he brought him ffrom his hand, 105
I, & fflying ouer his head soe hye,
ffell downe of _tha_t Lay land:

& his lady stood a litle thereby,
ffast ringing her hands:
"for they maydens loue _tha_t you haue most meed, 110
smyte you my Lo_r_d no more,

& heest neu_er_ come vpon Eldrige [hill]
him to sport, gamon, or play,
& to meete noe man of middle earth,
& _tha_t liues on christs his lay." 115

but he then vp, and _tha_t Eldryge K_ing_
sett him in his sadle againe,
& _tha_t Eldryge K_ing_ & his Ladye
to their castle are they gone.

& hee tooke then vp & _tha_t Eldryge sword 120
as hard as any fflynt,
& soe he did those ringes 5,
harder than ffyer, and brent.

ffirst he p_re_sented to the K_ing_s daughter
they hand, & then they sword. 125
"but a serrett buffett you haue him giuen,
the K_ing_ & the crowne!" she sayd,
"I, but 34 stripes
comen beside the rood."

& a Gyant that was both stiffe [&] strong, 130
he lope now them amonge,
& vpon his squier 5 heads he bare,
vnmackley made was hee.

& he dranke then on the K_ing_s wine,
& hee put the cup in his sleeue; 135
& all thé trembled & were wan
ffor feare he shold them greeffe.

"Ile tell thee mine Arrand, K_ing_," he sayes,
"mine errand what I doe heere;
ffor I will bren thy temples hye, 140
or Ile haue thy daughter deere;
in, or else vpon, yond more soe brood
thou shalt ffind mee a ppeare."

the K_ing_ he turned him round about,
(Lo_rd_, in his heart he was woe!), 145
says, "is there noe K_nigh_t of the round table
this matter will vndergoe?

"I, & hee shall haue my broad Lands,
& keepe them well his liue;
I, and soe hee shall my daughter deere, 150
to be his weded wiffe."

& then stood vp S_i_r Cawline
his owne errand ffor to say.
"ifaith, I wold to god, S_i_r," sayd S_i_r Cawline,
"_tha_t Soldan I will assay. 155

"goe, ffeitch me downe my Eldrige sword,
ffor I woone itt att [a] ffray."
"but away, away!" sayd the hend Soldan,
"thou tarryest mee here all day!"

but the hend Soldan and S_i_r Cawline 160
thé ffought a sum_m_ers day:
now has hee slaine _tha_t hend Soldan,
& brought his 5 heads away.

& the K_ing_ has betaken him his broade lands
& all his venison. 165

"but take you too & yo_u_r Lands [soe] broad,
& brooke them well yo_u_r liffe,
ffor you p_ro_mised mee yo_u_r daughter deere
to be my weded wiffe."

"now by my ffaith," then sayes our K_ing_, 170
"ffor _tha_t wee will not striffe;
ffor thou shalt haue my daughter dere
to be thy weded wiffe."

the other morninge S_i_r Cawline rose
by the dawning of the day, 175
& vntill a garden did he goe
his Mattins ffor to say;
& _tha_t bespyed a ffalse steward--
a shames death _tha_t he might dye!--

& he lett a lyon out of a bande, 180
S_i_r Cawline ffor to teare;
& he had noe wepon him vpon,
nor noe wepon did weare.

but hee tooke then his Mantle of greene,
into the Lyons mouth itt thrust; 185
he held the Lyon soe sore to the wall
till the Lyons hart did burst.

& the watchmen cryed vpon the walls
& sayd, "S_i_r Cawlines slaine!
and w_i_th a beast is not ffull litle, 190
a Lyon of Mickle mayne."
then the K_ing_s daughter shee ffell downe,
"for peerlesse is my payne!"

"O peace, my Lady!" sayes S_i_r Cawline,
"I haue bought thy loue ffull deere. 195
O peace, my Lady!" sayes S_i_r Cawline,
"peace, Lady, ffor I am heere!"

then he did marry this K_ing_s daughter
w_i_th gold & siluer bright,
& 15 sonnes this Ladye beere 200
to S_i_r Cawline the Knight.

ffins.]

FOOTNOTES:

[336] See _Northern Antiquities, &c._ vol. i. p. 318; vol. ii. p. 100. _Memoires de la Chevalerie_, tom. i. p. 44.

[337] [mate.]

[338] [describe.]

[339] [maiden.]

[340] [grief.]

[341] [wrought.]

[342] [sorrow.]

[343] [must.]

[344] [made ready.]

[345] [medical care.]

[346] [This is an odd misreading of Percy's. The MS. has "I and take you doe and the baken bread," where _doe_ is the auxiliary verb and the _and_ redundant.]

[347] [lose.]

[348] [swiftly.]

[349] [pain I suffer.]

[350] [knight.]

[351] [if.]

[352] [spectral, lonesome.]

[353] [wide moors.]

[354] [great.]

[355] [before.]

[356] [harm.]

[357] [pagan.]

[358] Perhaps _wake_, as above in ver. 61.

[359] [leaped.]

[360] [fields.]

[361] [if fear come to.]

[362] [fierce.]

[363] [advise.]

[364] [mentioned.]

[365] _i. e._ Knights. See the Preface to _Child Waters_, vol. iii.

[366] [split.]

[367] [laid.]

[368] [burst.]

[369] [battle.]

[370] Ver. 109, aukeward. MS.

[371] [green sward.]

[372] [commands.]

[373] [law.]

[374] [fight.]

[375] [slain.]

[376] [spurred.]

[377] [neither stopped nor lingered.]

[378] [fetched.]

[379] [since thou hast engaged.]

[380] [mate.]

[381] [started.]

[382] [I know he would slay us.]

[383] [verily.]

[384] [bond or covenant.]

[385] [rather.]

[386] [lose.]

[387] [nigh.]

[388] [fine cloth.]

[389] [leather jacket.]

[390] [coat of mail.]

[391] [quickly.]

[392] [countenance.]

[393] [flashed.]

[394] [complexion.]

[395] [bowed.]

[396] [courteous.]

[397] [injured.]

[398] [burn.]

[399] [equal.]

[400] [mis-shapen.]

[401] [reward.]

[402] [detainest.]

[403] [give blows.]

[404] [unless.]

[405] ["or else," redundant from a misunderstanding of the word _but_.]

[406] [captivity.]

[407] [rather.]

[408] [come to harm.]

[409] [mate.]

[410] [deep-drawn.]

V.

EDWARD, EDWARD.

A SCOTTISH BALLAD.

_From a MS. copy transmitted from Scotland._

[The affectedly antique orthography of this ballad has caused
some to suppose that it was a modern invention, probably by Lady
Wardlaw, the author of _Hardyknute_, but Motherwell obtained
another version from the recitation of an old woman, which he
printed in his _Minstrelsy_ under the title of "Son Davie, son
Davie." He there says that there is reason to believe that Lord
Hailes "made a few slight verbal improvements in the copy he
transmitted, and altered the hero's name to Edward, a name which,
by the bye, never occurs in a Scottish ballad except where allusion
is made to an English king."

There is a Swedish ballad of the same character entitled _The_
_Fratricide's Lament and Dialogue with his Mother before he
wanders away from home for ever_.

The form of a dialogue between a mother and her son is a favourite
one in the old ballads, and "Lord Donald" in Kinloch's _Scottish
Ballads_ and "Lord Randal" in Scott's _Minstrelsy_ bear some
likeness to the ballad of "Edward." The hero is supposed to have
been poisoned by eating toads prepared as a dish of fishes, and the
last stanza of Kinloch's ballad is as follows:--

"What will ye leave to your true love, Lord Donald,
My son?
What will ye leave to your true love,
My jollie young man?
The tow and the halter for to hang on yon tree,
And lat her hang there for the poysoning o' me."]

* * * * *

Quhy dois your brand sae drop wi' bluid,[411]
Edward, Edward?
Quhy dois your brand sae drop wi' bluid?
And quhy sae sad gang yee, O?[412]
O, I hae killed my hauke sae guid, 5
Mither, mither:
O, I hae killed my hauke sae guid:
And I had nae mair bot hee,[413] O.

Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid,
Edward, Edward. 10
Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid,
My deir son I tell thee, O.
O, I hae killed my reid-roan steid,
Mither, Mither:
O, I hae killed my reid-roan steid, 15
That erst was sae fair and free, O.

Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair,
Edward, Edward:
Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair,
Sum other dule ye drie,[414] O. 20
O, I hae killed my fadir deir,
Mither, mither:
O, I hae killed my fadir deir,
Alas! and wae is me, O!

And quhatten penance wul ye drie[415] for that, 25
Edward, Edward?
And quhatten penance will ye drie for that?
My deir son, now tell me, O.
Ile set my feit in yonder boat,
Mither, mither: 30
Ile set my feit in yonder boat,
And Ile fare[416] ovir the sea, O.

And quhat wul ye doe wi' your towirs and your ha',[417]
Edward, Edward?
And quhat wul ye doe wi' your towirs and your ha', 35
That were sae fair to see, O?
Ile let thame stand til they doun fa',[418]
Mither, mither:
Ile let thame stand til they doun fa',
For here nevir mair maun I bee, O. 40

And quhat wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife,
Edward, Edward?
And quhat wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife,
Quhan ye gang ovir the sea, O?
The warldis room,[419] let thame beg throw life, 45
Mither, mither:
The warldis room, let thame beg throw life,
For thame nevir mair wul I see, O.

And quhat wul ye leive to your ain mither deir,
Edward, Edward? 50
And quhat wul ye leive to your ain mither deir?
My deir son, now tell me, O.
The curse of hell frae me sall ye beir,
Mither, mither:
The curse of hell frae me sall ye beir, 55
Sic counseils ye gave to me, O.

* * * * *

This curious song was transmitted to the editor by Sir David Dalrymple, Bart., late Lord Hailes.

FOOTNOTES:

[411] [why does your sword so drop with blood.]

[412] [and why so sad go ye.]

[413] [no other but he.]

[414] [some other grief you suffer.]

[415] [undergo.]

[416] [pass.]

[417] [hall.]

[418] [fall.]

[419] [the world's large.]

VI.

KING ESTMERE.

This old Romantic Legend (which is given from two copies, one of them in the editor's folio MS., but which contained very great variations), bears marks of considerable antiquity, and, perhaps, ought to have taken place of any in this volume. It would seem to have been written while part of Spain was in the hands of the Saracens or Moors: whose empire there was not fully extinguished before the year 1491. The Mahometans are spoken of in v. 49, &c., just in the same terms as in all other old romances. The author of the ancient Legend of _Sir Bevis_ represents his hero, upon all occasions, breathing out defiance against

"Mahound and Termagaunte;"[420]

and so full of zeal for his religion, as to return the following polite message to a Paynim king's fair daughter, who had fallen in love with him, and sent two Saracen knights to invite him to her bower,

"I wyll not ones stirre off this grounde,
To speake with an heathen hounde.
Unchristen houndes, I rede you fle.
Or I your harte bloud shall se."[421]

Indeed they return the compliment by calling him elsewhere "A christen hounde."[422]

This was conformable to the real manners of the barbarous ages: perhaps the same excuse will hardly serve our bard, for that Adland should be found lolling or leaning at his gate (v. 35) may be thought, perchance, a little out of character. And yet the great painter of manners, Homer, did not think it inconsistent with decorum to represent a king of the Taphians leaning at the gate of Ulysses to inquire for that monarch, when he touched at Ithaca as he was taking a voyage with a ship's cargo of iron to dispose in traffic.[423] So little ought we to judge of ancient manners by our own.

Before I conclude this article, I cannot help observing, that the reader will see, in this ballad, the character of the old Minstrels (those successors of the Bards) placed in a very respectable light:[424] here he will see one of them represented mounted on a fine horse, accompanied with an attendant to bear his harp after him, and to sing the poems of his composing. Here he will see him mixing in the company of kings without ceremony: no mean proof of the great antiquity of this poem. The farther we carry our inquiries back, the greater respect we find paid to the professors of poetry and music among all the Celtic and Gothic nations. Their character was deemed so sacred, that under its sanction our famous king Alfred (as we have already seen)[425] made no scruple to enter the Danish camp, and was at once admitted to the king's headquarters.[426] Our poet has suggested the same expedient to the heroes of this ballad. All the histories of the North are full of the great reverence paid to this order of men. Harold Harfagre, a celebrated King of Norway, was wont to seat them at his table above all the officers of his court: and we find another Norwegian king placing five of them by his side in a day of battle, that they might be eye-witnesses of the great exploits they were to celebrate.[427] As to Estmere's riding into the hall while the kings were at table, this was usual in the ages of chivalry; and even to this day we see a relic of this custom still kept up, in the champion's riding into Westminster Hall during the coronation dinner.[428]

Some liberties have been taken with this tale by the editor, but none without notice to the reader in that part which relates to the subject of the harper and his attendant.

* * * * *

[Percy refers to two copies of this ballad, but there is every
reason to believe that one of these was the bishop's own
composition, as it was never seen by others and has not since been
found. The copy from the folio MS. was torn out by Percy when he
was preparing the fourth edition of the _Reliques_ for the press,
and is now unfortunately lost, so that we have no means of telling
what alterations he made in addition to those which he mentions in
the footnotes. The readings in the fourth edition are changed in
several places from those printed in the first edition.]

* * * * *

Hearken to me, gentlemen,
Come and you shall heare;
Ile tell you of two of the boldest brethren[429]
That ever borne y-were.

The tone[430] of them was Adler younge, 5
The tother was kyng Estmere;
The were as bolde men in their deeds,
As any were farr and neare.

As they were drinking ale and wine
Within kyng Estmeres halle:[431] 10
When will ye marry a wyfe, brothèr,
A wyfe to glad us all?

Then bespake him kyng Estmere,
And answered him hastilee:[432]
I know not that ladye in any land 15
That's able[433] to marrye with mee.

Kyng Adland hath a daughter, brother,
Men call her bright and sheene;[434]
If I were kyng here in your stead,
That ladye shold be my queene. 20

Saies, Reade me,[435] reade me, deare brother,
Throughout merry Englànd,
Where we might find a messenger
Betwixt us towe to sende.

Saies, You shal ryde yourselfe, brothèr, 25
Ile beare you companye;
Many throughe fals messengers are deceived,[436]
And I feare lest soe shold wee.

Thus the renisht[437] them to ryde
Of twoe good renisht[438] steeds, 30
And when the came to king Adlands halle,
Of redd gold shone their weeds.[439]

And when the came to kyng Adlands hall
Before the goodlye gate,
There they found good kyng Adlànd 35
Rearing[440] himselfe theratt.

Now Christ thee save, good kyng Adlànd;
Now Christ you save and see.
Sayd, You be welcome, king Estmere,
Right hartilye to mee. 40

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

Yesterday was att my deere daughtèr 45
Syr Bremor the kyng of Spayne;[441]
And then she nicked[442] him of naye,
And I doubt sheele[443] do you the same.

The kyng of Spayne is a foule paynim,[444]
And 'leeveth[445] on Mahound; 50
And pitye it were that fayre ladyè
Shold marrye a heathen hound.

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

Although itt is seven yeers and more
Since my daughter was in halle,
She shall come once downe for your sake
To glad my guestès alle. 60

Downe then came that mayden fayre,
With ladyes laced in pall,[446]
And halfe a hundred of bold knightes,
To bring her from bowre to hall;
And as many gentle squiers, 65
To tend upon them all.

The talents of golde were on her head sette,
Hanged low downe to her knee;
And everye ring on her small fingèr,
Shone of the chrystall free. 70

Saies, God you save, my deere madàm;
Saies, God you save and see.
Said, You be welcome, kyng Estmere,
Right welcome unto mee.

And if you love me, as you saye, 75
Soe well and hartilèe,
All that ever you are comen about
Soone sped now itt shal 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[447] me of my lyfe
I cannot blame him if he doe, 85
If I reave him of his wyfe.

Your castles and your towres, father,
Are stronglye built aboute;
And therefore of the king of Spaine[448]
Wee neede not stande in doubt. 90

Plight me your troth, nowe, kyng Estmère,
By heaven and your righte hand,
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 the might bee.

They had not ridden scant a myle,
A myle forthe of the towne,
But in did come the kyng of Spayne, 105
With kempès[449] many one.

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

Shee sent one after kyng Estmère
In all the spede might bee,
That he must either turne againe and fighte,
Or goe home and loose his ladyè.

One whyle then the page he went, 115
Another while he ranne;
Till he had oretaken king Estmere,
I wis, he never blanne.[450]

Tydings, tydings, 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 mile,
A mile out of the towne,
But in did come the kyng of Spayne 125
With kempès many a one:

But in did come the kyng of Spayne
With manye a bold baròne,
Tone daye to marrye king Adlands daughter,
Tother daye to carry her home. 130

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

Saies, Reade me, reade me, deere brothèr, 135
My reade shall ryde[451] at thee,
Whether it is better to turne and fighte,
Or goe home and loose my ladye.

Now hearken to me, sayes Adler yonge,
And your reade must rise[452] at me, 140
I quicklye will devise a waye
To sette thy ladye free.

My mother was a westerne woman,
And learned in gramaryè.[453]
And when I learned at the schole, 145
Something shee taught itt mee.

There growes an hearbe within this field,
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 sworde is not in all Englande,
Upon his coate will byte.

And you shal be a harper, brother, 155
Out of the north countrye;
And Ile be your boy, soe faine of fighte,[454]
And beare your harpe by your knee.

And you shal be the best harpèr,
That ever tooke harpe in hand; 160
And I wil be the best singèr,
That ever sung in this lande.

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

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

And whan the came to kyng Adlands hall,
Untill the fayre hall yate,[455]
There they found a proud portèr
Rearing himselfe thereatt.

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

Wee beene harpers, sayd Adler younge,
Come out of the northe countrye; 180
Wee 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,
I wold saye king Estmere and his brother 185
Were comen untill this towne.

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

Sore he looked on kyng Estmère,
And sore he handled the ryng,
Then opened to them the fayre hall yates,
He lett[456] for no kind of thyng.

Kyng Estmere he stabled his steede 195
Soe fayre att the hall bord;
The froth, that came from his brydle bitte,
Light in kyng Bremors beard.

Saies, Stable thy steed, thou proud harpèr,
Saies, Stable him in the stalle; 200
It doth not beseeme a proud harpèr
To stable 'him' in a kyngs halle.[457]

My ladde he is so lither,[458] he said,
He will doe nought that's meete;
And is there any man in this hall 205
Were able him to beate.

Thou speakst proud words, sayes the king of Spaine,
Thou harper here to mee:
There is a man within this halle,
Will beate thy ladd and thee. 210

O let that man come downe, he said,
A sight of him wold I see;
And when hee hath beaten well my ladd,
Then he shall beate of mee.

Downe then came the kemperye man,[459] 215
And looked him in the eare;
For all the gold, that was under heaven,
He durst not neigh him neare.[460]

And how nowe, kempe, said the kyng of Spaine,
And how what aileth thee? 220
He saies, It is writt in his forhead
All and in gramaryè,
That for all the gold that is under heaven,
I dare not neigh him nye.

Then kyng Estmere pulld forth his harpe, 225
And plaid a pretty thinge:
The ladye upstart from the borde,
And wold have gone from the king.

Stay thy harpe, thou proud harpèr,
For Gods love I pray thee 230
For and thou playes as thou beginns,
Thou'lt till[461] my bryde from mee.

He stroake upon his harpe againe,
And playd a pretty thinge;
The ladye lough[462] a loud laughter, 235
As shee sate by the king.

Saies, sell me thy harpe, thou proud harper,
And thy stringès all,
For as many gold nobles 'thou shalt have'
As heere bee ringes in the hall. 240

What wold ye doe with my harpe, 'he sayd,
If I did sell itt yee?
"To playe my wiffe and me a Fitt,[463]
When abed together wee bee."

Now sell me, quoth hee, thy bryde soe gay, 245
As shee sitts by thy knee,
And as many gold nobles I will give,
As leaves been on a tree.

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

Hee played agayne both loud and shrille,[464]
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[465] he drew his brand;[466] 270
And Estmere he, and Adler yonge
Right stiffe in stour[467] can stand.

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

Kyng Estmere tooke that fayre ladyè,
And marryed her to his wiffe,
And brought her home to merry Englànd
With her to leade his life. 280

[***] The word _Gramaryè_,[468] which occurs several times in
the foregoing poem, is probably a corruption of the French word
_Grimoire_, which signifies a conjuring book in the old French
romances, if not the art of necromancy itself.

[+±+] _Termagaunt_ (mentioned above, p. 85) is the name given
in the old romances to the god of the Saracens, in which he is
constantly linked with _Mahound_ or Mahomet. Thus, in the legend
of _Syr Guy_, the Soudan (Sultan), swears

"So helpe me _Mahowne_ of might,
And _Termagaunt_ my god so bright."

_Sign._ p. iii. b.

This word is derived by the very learned editor of Junius from the Anglo-Saxon +Tyr+ very, and +Magan+ mighty. As this word had so sublime a derivation, and was so applicable to the true God, how shall we account for its being so degraded? Perhaps +Tyr-magan+ or _Termagant_ had been a name originally given to some Saxon idol, before our ancestors were converted to Christianity; or had been the peculiar attribute of one of their false deities; and therefore the first Christian missionaries rejected it as profane and improper to be applied to the true God. Afterwards, when the irruptions of the Saracens into Europe, and the Crusades into the East, had brought them acquainted with a new species of unbelievers, our ignorant ancestors, who thought all that did not receive the Christian law were necessarily pagans and idolaters, supposed the Mahometan creed was in all respects the same with that of their pagan forefathers, and therefore made no scruple to give the ancient name of _Termagant_ to the god of the Saracens, just in the same manner as they afterwards used the name of _Sarazen_ to express any kind of pagan or idolater. In the ancient romance of _Merline_ (in the editor's folio MS.) the Saxons themselves that came over with Hengist, because they were not Christians, are constantly called Sarazens.

However that be, it is certain that, after the times of the Crusades, both _Mahound_ and _Termagaunt_ made their frequent appearance in the pageants and religious interludes of the barbarous ages; in which they were exhibited with gestures so furious and frantic, as to become proverbial. Thus Skelton speaks of Wolsey:--

"Like _Mahound_ in a play,
No man dare him withsay."

Ed. 1736, p. 158.

In like manner Bale, describing the threats used by some papist magistrates to his wife, speaks of them as "grennyng upon her lyke _Termagauntes_ in a playe." (_Actes of Engl. Votaryes_, pt. ii. fo. 83, Ed. 1550, 12mo.) Accordingly in a letter of Edward Alleyn, the founder of Dulwich College, to his wife or sister, who, it seems, with all her fellows (the players), had been "by my Lorde Maiors officer[s] mad to rid in a cart," he expresses his concern that she should "fall into the hands of suche _Tarmagants_." (So the orig. dated May 2, 1593, preserved by the care of the Rev. Thomas Jenyns Smith, Fellow of Dulw. Coll.) Hence we may conceive the force of Hamlet's expression in Shakspeare, where, condemning a ranting player, he says, "I could have such a fellow whipt for ore-doing _Termagant_: it out-herods Herod" (Act iii. sc. 3). By degrees the word came to be applied to an outrageous turbulent person, and especially to a violent brawling woman; to whom alone it is now confined, and this the rather as, I suppose, the character of _Termagant_ was anciently represented on the stage after the eastern mode, with long robes or petticoats.

Another frequent character in the old pageants or interludes of our ancestors, was the _sowdan_ or _soldan_, representing a grim eastern tyrant. This appears from a curious passage in Stow's _Annals_ (p. 458). In a stage-play "the people know right well that he that plaieth the _sowdain_, is percase a sowter [shoe-maker]; yet if one should cal him by his owne name, while he standeth in his majestie, one of his tormenters might hap to break his head." The _sowdain_, or _soldan_, was a name given to the Sarazen king (being only a more rude pronunciation of the word _sultan_), as the soldan of Egypt, the soudan of Persia, the sowdan of Babylon, &c., who were generally represented as accompanied with grim Sarazens, whose business it was to punish and torment Christians.

I cannot conclude this short memoir, without observing that the French romancers, who had borrowed the word _Termagant_ from us, and applied it as we in their old romances, corrupted it into _Tervagaunte_; and from them La Fontaine took it up, and has used it more than once in his tales. This may be added to the other proofs adduced in these volumes of the great intercourse that formerly subsisted between the old minstrels and legendary writers of both nations, and that they mutually borrowed each other's romances.

FOOTNOTES:

[420] See a short Memoir at the end of this Ballad, Note [+±+].

[421] Sign C. ii. b.

[422] Sign C. i. b.

[423] Odyss. _a._ 105.

[424] See vol. ii., note subjoined to 1st part of _Beggar of Bednal_, &c.

[425] See the _Essay on the Antient Minstrels_ (Appendix I.)

[426] Even so late as the time of Froissart, we find minstrels and heralds mentioned together, as those who might securely go into an enemy's country. Cap. cxl.

[427] _Bartholini Antiq. Dan._ p. 173. _Northern Antiquities_, &c., vol. i. pp. 386, 389, &c.

[428] See also the account of Edw. II. in the _Essay on the Minstrels_, and Note [X].

[429] Ver. 3. brether, f. MS.

[430] [the one.]

[431] V. 10. his brother's hall f. MS.

[432] V. 14. hartilye, f. MS.

[433] He means fit, suitable.

[434] [shining.]

[435] [advise me.]

[436] Ver. 27. many a man ... is, f. MS.

[437] [they got ready?]

[438] [harnessed.]

[439] [garments.]

[440] [leaning.]

[441] V. 46. the king his sonne of Spayn, f. MS.

[442] [refused.]

[443] [she will.]

[444] [pagan.]

[445] [believeth.]

[446] [robe of state.]

[447] [bereave.]

[448] Ver. 89. of the King his sonne of Spaine, f. MS.

[449] [soldiers or knights.]

[450] [stopped.]

[451] _sic_ MS. It should probably be _ryse_, _i.e._ my counsel shall arise from thee. See ver. 140.

[452] _sic_ MS.

[453] See at the end of this ballad, note [***].

[454] [fond of fighting.]

[455] [gate.]

[456] [he left? _or_ he let be opened?]

[457] Ver. 202. to stable his steede, f. MS.

[458] [lazy or wicked.]

[459] [soldier or fighting man.]

[460] [approach him near.]

[461] _i.e._ entice.

[462] [laughed.]

[463] _i.e._ a tune, or strain of music.

[464] Ver. 253. Some liberties have been taken in the following stanzas; but wherever this edition differs from the preceding, it hath been brought nearer to the folio MS.

[465] [quickly.]

[466] [sword.]

[467] [fight.]

[468] [or grammar, and hence used for any abstruse learning.]

VII.

SIR PATRICK SPENCE,

A SCOTTISH BALLAD,

Is given from two MS. copies transmitted from Scotland. In what age the hero of this ballad lived, or when this fatal expedition happened that proved so destructive to the Scots nobles, I have not been able to discover; yet am of opinion, that their catastrophe is not altogether without foundation in history, though it has escaped my own researches. In the infancy of navigation, such as used the northern seas were very liable to shipwreck in the wintry months: hence a law was enacted in the reign of James III. (a law which was frequently repeated afterwards), "That there be na schip frauched out of the realm with any staple gudes, fra the feast of Simons day and Jude, unto the feast of the purification of our Lady called Candelmess." _Jam. III. Parlt. 2, ch. 15._

In some modern copies, instead of Patrick Spence hath been substituted the name of Sir Andrew Wood, a famous Scottish admiral who flourished in the time of our Edward IV., but whose story has nothing in common with this of the ballad. As Wood was the most noted warrior of Scotland, it is probable that, like the Theban Hercules, he hath engrossed the renown of other heroes.

* * * * *

[The fact that this glorious ballad was never heard of before
Percy printed it in 1765, caused some to throw doubts upon its
authenticity, and their scepticism was strengthened by the note at
p. 102, which refers to the author of _Hardyknute_. It was thought
that the likeness in expression and sentiment there mentioned might
easily be explained if the two poems were both by Lady Wardlaw.
This view, advocated by Robert Chambers in his general attack on
the authenticity of all _The Romantic Scottish Ballads_ (1859),
has not met with much favour, and Professor Child thinks that the
arguments against the genuineness of _Sir Patrick Spence_ are so
trivial as hardly to admit of statement. He writes, "If not ancient
it has been always accepted as such by the most skilful judges,
and is a solitary instance of a successful imitation in manner
and spirit of the best specimens of authentic minstrelsy."[469]
Coleridge, no mean judge of a ballad, wrote--

"The bard be sure was weather-wise who framed
The grand old ballad of Sir Patrick Spens."

Antiquaries have objected that Spence is not an early Scottish
name, but in this they are wrong, for Professor Aytoun found it in
a charter of Robert III. and also in Wyntoun's _Chronicle_.

There has been considerable discussion as to the historical event
referred to in the ballad, and the present version does not contain
any mention of one of the points that may help towards a settlement
of the question. The version in Scott's _Minstrelsy_ contains the
following stanza:--

"To Noroway, to Noroway
To Noroway o'er the faem
The king's daughter of Noroway
'Tis thou maun bring her hame."

P rofessor Aytoun would change the third line to

"The king's daughter _to_ Noroway,"

as he agrees with Motherwell in the view that the ballad refers
to the fate of the Scottish nobles who in 1281 conveyed Margaret,
daughter of Alexander III., to Norway, on the occasion of her
nuptials with King Eric.

Fordun relates this incident as follows:--"In the year 1281
Margaret, daughter of Alexander III., was married to the King of
Norway, who, leaving Scotland in the last day of July, was conveyed
thither in noble style in company with many knights and nobles. In
returning home after the celebration of her nuptials, the Abbot of
Balmerinoch, Bernard of Monte-alto, and many other persons, were
drowned." As to the scene of the disaster, Aytoun brings forward an
interesting illustration of the expression "half over to Aberdour,"
in line 41. He says that in the little island of Papa Stronsay one
of the Orcadian group lying over against Norway, there is a large
grave or tumulus which has been known to the inhabitants from time
immemorial as "the grave of Sir Patrick Spens," and he adds, that
as the Scottish ballads were not early current in Orkney, it is
unlikely that the poem originated the name.

The other suggestions as to an historical basis for the ballad
are not borne out by history. It is well, however, to note in
illustration of line 1, that the Scottish kings chiefly resided in
their palace of Dunfermline from the time of Malcolm Canmore to
that of Alexander III.

The present copy of the ballad is the shortest of the various
versions, but this is not a disadvantage, as it gains much in force
by the directness of its language.

Buchan prints a ballad called _Young Allan_, which is somewhat like
_Sir Patrick Spence_.]

* * * * *

The king sits in Dumferling toune,
Drinking the blude-reid wine:
O quhar will I get guid sailòr,
To sail this schip of mine?

Up and spak an eldern knicht, 5
Sat at the kings richt kne:
Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailòr,
That sails upon the se.

The king has written a braid letter,[470]
And signd it wi' his hand; 10
And sent it to Sir Patrick Spence,
Was walking on the sand.

The first line that Sir Patrick red,
A loud lauch lauched he:
The next line that Sir Patrick red, 15
The teir blinded his ee.

O quha is this has don this deid,
This ill deid don to me;
To send me out this time o'the yeir,
To sail upon the se? 20

Mak hast, mak haste, my mirry men all,
Our guid schip sails the morne.[471]
O say na sae, my master deir,
For I feir a deadlie storme.

Late late yestreen I saw the new moone 25
Wi' the auld moone in hir arme;
And I feir, I feir, my deir mastèr,
That we will com to harme.

O our Scots nobles wer richt laith[472]
To weet their cork-heild schoone;[473] 30
Bot lang owre[474] a' the play wer playd,
Thair hats they swam aboone.[475]

O lang, lang, may thair ladies sit
Wi' thair fans into their hand,
Or eir they se Sir Patrick Spence 35
Cum sailing to the land.

O lang, lang, may the ladies stand
Wi' thair gold kems[476] in their hair,
Waiting for thair ain deir lords,
For they'll se thame na mair. 40

Have owre,[477] have owre to Aberdour,[478]
It's fiftie fadom deip:
And thair lies guid Sir Patrick Spence,
Wi' the Scots lords at his feit.[479]

FOOTNOTES:

[469] [_English and Scottish Ballads_, vol. iii. p. 149.]

[470] _A braid letter_, _i.e._ open, or patent; in opposition to close rolls.

[471] [to-morrow morning.]

[472] [loth.]

[473] [to wet their cork-heeled shoes.]

[474] [long ere.]

[475] [above the water.]

[476] [combs.]

[477] [half over.]

[478] A village lying upon the river Forth, the entrance to which is sometimes denominated _De mortuo mari_.

[Finlay observes that Percy's note is incorrect. The truth is that De Mortuo Mari is the designation of a family (Mortimer) who were lords of Aberdour. They are believed to have received their name from the Dead Sea, in Palestine, during the times of the Crusades.]

[479] An ingenious friend thinks the author of _Hardyknute_ has borrowed several expressions and sentiments from the foregoing and other old Scottish songs in this collection.

VIII.

ROBIN HOOD AND GUY OF GISBORNE.

We have here a ballad of Robin Hood (from the editor's folio MS.) which was never before printed, and carries marks of much greater antiquity than any of the common popular songs on this subject.

The severity of those tyrannical forest laws that were introduced by our Norman kings, and the great temptation of breaking them by such as lived near the royal forests at a time when the yeomanry of this kingdom were everywhere trained up to the long-bow, and excelled all other nations in the art of shooting, must constantly have occasioned great numbers of outlaws, and especially of such as were the best marksmen. These naturally fled to the woods for shelter, and, forming into troops, endeavoured by their numbers to protect themselves from the dreadful penalties of their delinquency. The ancient punishment for killing the king's deer was loss of eyes and castration, a punishment far worse than death. This will easily account for the troops of banditti which formerly lurked in the royal forests, and, from their superior skill in archery and knowledge of all the recesses of those unfrequented solitudes, found it no difficult matter to resist or elude the civil power.

Among all those, none was ever more famous than the hero of this ballad, whose chief residence was in Shirewood forest, in Nottinghamshire, and the heads of whose story, as collected by Stow, are briefly these.

"In this time [about the year 1190, in the reign of Richard I.] were many robbers, and outlawes, among the which Robin Hood, and Little John, renowned theeves, continued in woods, despoyling and robbing the goods of the rich. They killed none but such as would invade them; or by resistance for their own defence.

"The saide Robert entertained an hundred tall men and good archers with such spoiles and thefts as he got, upon whom four hundred (were they ever so strong) durst not give the onset. He suffered no woman to be oppressed, violated, or otherwise molested: poore mens goods he spared, abundantlie relieving them with that which by theft he got from abbeys and the houses of rich carles: whom Maior (the historian) blameth for his rapine and theft, but of all theeves he affirmeth him to be the prince, and the most gentle theefe."--_Annals_, p. 159.