Chapter XVIII: Part 18

The king all but died of grief, but it was no boot. He gave his kingdom in charge to his high steward, told his barons to choose a new king when they should learn that he was dead, put on a sclavin and nothing else, took his harp, and went barefoot out at the gate. Ten years he lived in the woods and on the heath; his body wasted away, his beard grew to his girdle. His only solace was in his harp, and, when the weather was bright, he would play, and all the beasts and birds would flock to him. Often at hot noon-day he would see the king of fairy hunting with his rout, or an armed host would go by him with banners displayed, or knights and ladies would come dancing; but whither they went he could not tell. One day he descried sixty ladies who were hawking. He went towards them and saw that one of them was Heurodis. He looked at her wistfully, and she at him; neither spoke a word, but tears fell from her eyes, and the ladies hurried her away. He followed, and spared neither stub nor stem. They went in at a rock, and he after. They alighted at a superb castle; he knocked at the gate, told the porter he was a minstrel, and was let in. There he saw Heurodis, sleeping under an ympe tree.

Orfeo went into the hall, and saw a king and queen, sitting in a tabernacle. He kneeled down before the king. What man art thou? said the king. I never sent for thee, and never found I man so bold as to come here unbidden. Lord, quoth Orfeo, I am but a poor minstrel, and it is a way of ours to seek many a lord's house, though we be not welcome. Without more words he took his harp and began to play. All the palace came to listen, and lay down at his feet. The king sat still and was glad to hear, and, when the harping was done, said, Minstrel, ask of me whatever it be; I will pay thee largely. "Sir," said Orfeo, "I beseech thee give me the lady that sleepeth under the ympe tree." "Nay," quoth the king, "ye were a sorry couple; for thou art lean and rough and black, and she is lovely and has no lack. A lothly thing were it to see her in thy company." "Gentle king," replied the harper, it were a fouler thing to hear a lie from thy mouth." "Take her, then, and be blithe of her," said the king.

Orfeo now turned homewards, but first presented himself to the steward alone, and in beggar's clothes, as a harper from heathendom, to see if he were a true man. The loyal steward was ready to welcome every good harper for love of his lord. King Orfeo made himself known; the steward threw over the table, and fell down at his feet, and so did all the lords. They brought the queen to the town. Orfeo and Heurodis were crowned anew, and lived long afterward.

The Scandinavian burden was, perhaps, no more intelligible to the singer than "Hey non nonny" is to us. The first line seems to be Unst for Danish

Skoven årle grön (Early green's the wood).

The sense of the other line is not so obvious. Professor Grundtvig has suggested to me,

Hvor hjorten han går årlig (Where the hart goes yearly).

A

The Leisure Hour, February 14, 1880, No 1468, p. 109.
Obtained from the singing of Andrew Coutts, an old man in
Unst, Shetland, by Mr Biot Edmondston.

1
Der lived a king inta da aste,
Scowan ürla grün
Der lived a lady in da wast.
Whar giorten han grün oarlac

2
Dis king he has a huntin gaen,
He's left his Lady Isabel alane.

3
'Oh I wis ye'd never gaen away,
For at your hame is döl an wae.

4
'For da king o Ferrie we his daert,
Has pierced your lady to da hert.'

* * * * * * *

5
And aifter dem da king has gaen,
But whan he cam it was a grey stane.

6
Dan he took oot his pipes ta play,
Bit sair his hert wi döl an wae.

7
And first he played da notes o noy,
An dan he played da notes o joy.

8
An dan he played da göd gabber reel,
Dat meicht ha made a sick hert hale.

* * * * * * *

9
'Noo come ye in inta wir ha,
An come ye in among wis a'.'

10
Now he's gaen in inta der ha,
An he's gaen in among dem a'.

11
Dan he took out his pipes to play,
Bit sair his hert wi döl an wae.

12
An first he played da notes o noy,
An dan he played da notes o joy.

13
An dan he played da göd gabber reel,
Dat meicht ha made a sick hert hale.

14
'Noo tell to us what ye will hae:
What sall we gie you for your play?

15
'What I will hae I will you tell,
An dat's me Lady Isabel.'

16
'Yees tak your lady, an yees gaeng hame,
An yees be king ower a' your ain.'

17
He's taen his lady, an he's gaen hame,
An noo he's king ower a' his ain.

20

THE CRUEL MOTHER.

#A.# Herd's MSS, I, 132, II, 191. Herd's Ancient and
Modern Scottish Songs, 1776, II, 237.

#B. a.# 'Fine Flowers in the Valley,' Johnson's Museum, p.
331. #b.# Scott's Minstrelsy, III, 259 (1803).

#C#. 'The Cruel Mother,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 161.

#D. a.# Kinloch MSS, V, 103. #b.# 'The Cruel Mother,'
Kinloch, Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 46.

#E.# 'The Cruel Mother.' #a.# Motherwell's MS., p. 390.
#b.# Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 33.

#F.# 'The Cruel Mother.' #a.# Buchan's MSS, II, 98. #b.#
Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 222.

#G.# Notes and Queries, 1st S., VIII, 358.

#H.# 'The Cruel Mother,' Motherwell's MS., p. 402.

#I.# 'The Minister's Daughter of New York.' #a.# Buchan's
MSS, II, 111. #b.# Buchan's Ballads of the North of
Scotland, II, 217. #c.# 'Hey wi the rose and the lindie
O,' Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 106.

#J. a.# 'The Rose o Malindie O,' Harris MS., f. 10. #b.#
Fragment communicated by Dr T. Davidson.

#K.# Motherwell's MS., p. 186.

#L.# 'Fine Flowers in the Valley,' Smith's Scottish
Minstrel, IV, 33.

#M.# From Miss M. Reburn, as learned in County Meath,
Ireland, one stanza.

Two fragments of this ballad, #A#, #B#, were printed in the last quarter of the eighteenth century; #C-L# were committed to writing after 1800; and, of these, #E#, #H#, #J#, #K# are now printed for the first time.

#A-H# differ only slightly, but several of these versions are very imperfect. A young woman, who passes for a leal maiden, gives birth to two babes [#A#, #B#, one, #H#, three], puts them to death with a penknife, #B-F#, and buries them, or, #H#, ties them hand and feet and buries them alive. She afterwards sees two pretty boys, and exclaims that if they were hers she would treat them most tenderly. They make answer that when they were hers they were very differently treated, rehearse what she had done, and inform or threaten her that hell shall be her portion, #C#, #D#, #E#, #F#, #H#. In #I# the children are buried alive, as in #H#, in #J a# strangled, in #J b# and #L# killed with the penknife, but the story is the same down to the termination, where, instead of simple hell-fire, there are various seven-year penances, properly belonging to the ballad of 'The Maid and the Palmer,' which follows this.

All the English ballads are in two-line stanzas.[181]

Until 1870 no corresponding ballad had been found in Denmark, though none was more likely to occur in #Danish#. That year Kristensen, in the course of his very remarkable ballad-quest in Jutland, recovered two versions which approach surprisingly near to Scottish tradition, and especially to #E#: Jydske Folkeviser, I, 329, No 121 #A#, #B#, 'Barnemordersken.' Two other Danish versions have been obtained since then, but have not been published. #A# and #B# are much the same, and a close translation of #A# will not take much more space than would be required for a sufficient abstract.

Little Kirsten took with her the bower-women five,
And with them she went to the wood belive.

She spread her cloak down on the earth,
And on it to two little twins gave birth.

She laid them under a turf so green,
Nor suffered for them a sorrow unseen.

She laid them under so broad a stone,
Suffered sorrow nor harm for what she had done.

Eight years it was, and the children twain
Would fain go home to their mother again.

They went and before Our Lord they stood:
'Might we go home to our mother, we would.'

'Ye may go to your mother, if ye will,
But ye may not contrive any ill.'

They knocked at the door, they made no din:
'Rise up, our mother, and let us in.'

By life and by death hath she cursed and sworn,
That never a child in the world had she borne.

'Stop, stop, dear mother, and swear not so fast,
We shall recount to you what has passed.

'You took with you the bower-women five,
And with them went to the wood belive.

'You spread your cloak down on the earth,
And on it to two little twins gave birth.

'You laid us under a turf so green,
Nor suffered for us a sorrow unseen.

'You laid us under so broad a stone,
Suffered sorrow nor harm for what you had done.'

'Nay my dear bairns, but stay with me;
And four barrels of gold shall be your fee.'

'You may give us four, or five, if you choose,
But not for all that, heaven will we lose.

'You may give us eight, you may give us nine,
But not for all these, heaven will we tine.

'Our seat is made ready in heavenly light,
But for you a seat in hell is dight.'

A ballad is spread all over #Germany# which is probably a variation of 'The Cruel Mother,' though the resemblance is rather in the general character than in the details. #A#, 'Höllisches Recht,' Wunderhorn, II, 202, ed. of 1808, II, 205, ed. 1857. Mittler, No 489, p. 383, seems to be this regulated and filled out. #B#, Erlach, 'Die Rabenmutter,' IV, 148; repeated, with the addition of one stanza, by Zuccalmaglio, p. 203, No 97. #C#, 'Die Kindsmörderinn,' Meinert, p. 164, from the Kuhländchen; turned into current German, Erk's Liederhort, p. 144, No 41^c. #D#, Simrock, p. 87, No 37^a, from the Aargau. #E#, 'Das falsche Mutterherz,' Erk u. Irmer, Heft 5, No 7, and 'Die Kindesmörderin,' Erk's Liederhort, p. 140, No 41, Brandenburg. #F#, Liederhort, p. 142, No 41^a, Silesia. #G#, Liederhort, p. 143, 41^b, from the Rhein, very near to #B#. #H#, Hoffmann u. Richter, No 31, p. 54, and #I#, No 32, p. 57, Silesia. #J#, Ditfurth, Fränkische V. 1., II, 12, No 13. #K#, 'Die Rabenmutter,' Peter, Volksthümliches aus Österreichisch-Schlesien, I, 210, No 21. #L#, 'Der Teufel u. die Müllerstochter,' Pröhle, Weltliche u. geistliche V. 1., p. 15, No 9, Hanoverian Harz. Repetitions and compounded copies are not noticed.

The story is nearly this in all. A herdsman, passing through a wood, hears the cry of a child, but cannot make out whence the sound comes. The child announces that it is hidden in a hollow tree, and asks to be taken to the house where its mother is to be married that day. There arrived, the child proclaims before all the company that the bride is its mother. The bride, or some one of the party, calls attention to the fact that she is still wearing her maiden-wreath. Nevertheless, says the child, she has had three children: one she drowned, one she buried in a dung-heap [the sand], and one she hid in a hollow tree. The bride wishes that the devil may come for her if this is true, and, upon the word, Satan appears and takes her off; in #B#, #G#, #J#, with words like these:

'Komm her, komm her, meine schönste Braut,
Dein Sessel ist dir in der Hölle gebaut.' #J# 9.

A #Wendish# version, 'Der Höllentanz,' in Haupt and Schmaler, I, 290, No 292, differs from the German ballads only in this, that the bride has already borne nine children, and is going with the tenth.

A combination of #B#, #C#, #D#, #F# is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, No 43, p. 279, and #I#, from the eighth stanza on, p. 282. #C# is translated by Wolff, Halle der Völker, I, 11, and Hauschatz, p. 223; Allingham's version (nearly #B a#) by Knortz, L. u. R. Alt-Englands, p. 178, No 48.

A

Herd's MSS, I, 132, II, 191: Ancient and Modern Scottish
Songs, 1776, II, 237.

* * * * * * *

1
And there she's leand her back to a thorn,
Oh and alelladay, oh and alelladay
And there she has her baby born.
Ten thousand times good night and be wi thee

2
She has houked a grave ayont the sun,
And there she has buried the sweet babe in.

3
And she's gane back to her father's ha,
She's counted the leelest maid o them a'.

* * * * * * *

4
'O look not sae sweet, my bonie babe,
Gin ye smyle sae, ye'll smyle me dead.'

* * * * * * *

B

#a.# Johnson's Museum, p. 331. #b.# Scott's Minstrelsy,
1803, III, 259, preface.

1
She sat down below a thorn,
Fine flowers in the valley
And there she has her sweet babe born.
And the green leaves they grow rarely

2
'Smile na sae sweet, my bonie babe,
And ye smile sae sweet, ye'll smile me dead.'

3
She's taen out her little pen-knife,
And twinnd the sweet babe o its life.

4
She's howket a grave by the light o the moon,
And there she's buried her sweet babe in.

5
As she was going to the church,
She saw a sweet babe in the porch.

6
'O sweet babe, and thou were mine,
I wad cleed thee in the silk so fine.'

7
'O mother dear, when I was thine,
You did na prove to me sae kind.'

* * * * * * *

C

Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 161.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

D

#a.# Kinloch's MSS, V, 103, in the handwriting of James
Beattie. #b.# Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 46:
from the recitation of Miss C. Beattie.

1
There lives a lady in London,
All alone and alone ee
She's gane wi bairn to the clerk's son.
Down by the green wood sae bonnie

2
She's taen her mantle her about,
She's gane aff to the gude green wood.

3
She's set her back untill an oak,
First it bowed and then it broke.

4
She's set her back untill a tree,
Bonny were the twa boys she did bear.

5
But she took out a little pen-knife,
And she parted them and their sweet life.

6
She's aff untill her father's ha;
She was the lealest maiden that was amang them a'.

7
As she lookit oure the castle wa,
She spied twa bonnie boys playing at the ba.

8
'O if these two babes were mine,
They should wear the silk and the sabelline!'

9
'O mother dear, when we were thine,
We neither wore the silks nor the sabelline.

10
'But out ye took a little pen-knife,
And ye parted us and our sweet life.

11
'But now we're in the heavens hie,
And ye've the pains o hell to drie.'

E

#a.# Motherwell's MS., p. 390. #b.# Motherwell's
Note-Book, p. 33. From the recitation of Agnes Lyle,
Kilbarchan, August 24, 1825.

1
There was a lady, she lived in Lurk,
Sing hey alone and alonie O
She fell in love with her father's clerk.
Down by yon greenwood sidie O

2
She loved him seven years and a day,
Till her big belly did her betray.

3
She leaned her back unto a tree,
And there began her sad misery.

4
She set her foot unto a thorn,
And there she got her two babes born.

5
She took out her wee pen-knife,
She twind them both of their sweet life.

6
She took the sattins was on her head,
She rolled them in both when they were dead.

7
She howkit a grave forenent the sun,
And there she buried her twa babes in.

8
As she was walking thro her father's ha,
She spied twa boys playing at the ba.

9
'O pretty boys, if ye were mine,
I would dress ye both in the silks so fine.'

10
'O mother dear, when we were thine,
Thou neer dressed us in silks so fine.

11
'For thou was a lady, thou livd in Lurk,
And thou fell in love with thy father's clerk.

12
'Thou loved him seven years and a day,
Till thy big belly did thee betray.

13
'Thou leaned thy back unto a tree,
And there began thy sad misery.

14
'Thou set thy foot unto a thorn,
And there thou got thy two babes born.

15
'Thou took out thy wee pen-knife,
And twind us both of our sweet life.

16
'Thou took the sattins was on thy head,
Thou rolled us both in when we were dead.

17
'Thou howkit a grave forenent the sun,
And there thou buried thy twa babes in.

18
'But now we're both in [the] heavens hie,
There is pardon for us, but none for thee.'

19
'My pretty boys, beg pardon for me!'
'There is pardon for us, but none for thee.'

F

#a.# Buchan's MSS, II, 98. #b.# Buchan's Ballads of the
North of Scotland, II, 222.

1
It fell ance upon a day,
Edinburgh, Edinburgh
It fell ance upon a day,
Stirling for aye
It fell ance upon a day
The clerk and lady went to play.
So proper Saint Johnston stands fair upon Tay

2
'If my baby be a son,
I'll make him a lord of high renown.'

3
She's leand her back to the wa,
Prayd that her pains might fa.

4
She's leand her back to the thorn,
There was her baby born.

5
'O bonny baby, if ye suck sair,
You'll never suck by my side mair.'

6
She's riven the muslin frae her head,
Tied the baby hand and feet.

7
Out she took her little pen-knife,
Twind the young thing o its sweet life.

8
She's howked a hole anent the meen,
There laid her sweet baby in.

9
She had her to her father's ha,
She was the meekest maid amang them a'.

10
It fell ance upon a day,
She saw twa babies at their play.

11
'O bonny babies, gin ye were mine,
I'd cleathe you in the silks sae fine.'

12
'O wild mother, when we were thine,
You cleathd us not in silks so fine.

13
'But now we're in the heavens high,
And you've the pains o hell to try.'

14
She threw hersell oer the castle-wa,
There I wat she got a fa.

G

Notes and Queries, 1st S., VIII, 358. From Warwickshire,
communicated by C. Clifton Barry.

1
There was a lady lived on [a] lea,
All alone, alone O
Down by the greenwood side went she.
Down the greenwood side O

2
She set her foot all on a thorn,
There she had two babies born.

3
O she had nothing to lap them in,
But a white appurn, and that was thin.

H

Motherwell's MS., p. 402. From Agnes Laird, Kilbarchan,
August 24, 1825.

1
There was a lady brisk and smart,
All in a lone and a lonie O
And she goes with child to her father's clark.
Down by the greenwood sidie O

2
Big, big oh she went away,
And then she set her foot to a tree.

3
Big she set her foot to a stone,
Till her three bonnie babes were borne.

4
She took the ribbons off her head,
She tied the little babes hand and feet.

5
She howkit a hole before the sun,
She's laid these three bonnie babes in.

6
She covered them over with marble stone,
For dukes and lords to walk upon.

7
She lookit over her father's castle wa,
She saw three bonnie boys playing at the ba.

8
The first o them was clad in red,
To shew the innocence of their blood.

9
The neist o them was clad in green,
To shew that death they had been in.

10
The next was naked to the skin,
To shew they were murderd when they were born.

11
'O bonnie babes, an ye were mine,
I wad dress you in the satins so fine.'

12
'O mother dear, when we were thine,
Thou did not use us half so kind.'

13
'O bonnie babes, an ye be mine,
Whare hae ye been a' this time?'

14
'We were at our father's house,
Preparing a place for thee and us.'

15
'Whaten a place hae ye prepar'd for me?'
'Heaven's for us, but hell's for thee.

16
'O mother dear, but heaven's high;
That is the place thou'll ne'er come nigh.

17
'O mother dear, but hell is deep;
'T will cause thee bitterlie to weep.'

I

#a.# Buchan's MS., II, 111. #b.# Buchan's Ballads of the
North of Scotland, II, 217. #c.# Christie, Traditional
Ballad Airs, I, 106.

1
The minister's daughter of New York,
Hey wi the rose and the lindie, O
Has faen in love wi her father's clerk.
Alone by the green burn sidie, O

2
She courted him six years and a day,
At length her belly did her betray.

3
She did her down to the greenwood gang,
To spend awa a while o her time.

4
She lent her back unto a thorn,
And she's got her twa bonny boys born.

5
She 's taen the ribbons frae her hair,
Bound their bodyes fast and sair.

6
She 's put them aneath a marble stane,
Thinking a maiden to gae hame.

7
Looking oer her castle wa,
She spied her bonny boys at the ba.

8
'O bonny babies, if ye were mine,
I woud feed you with the white bread and wine.

9
'I woud feed you wi the ferra cow's milk,
And dress you in the finest silk.'

10
'O cruel mother, when we were thine,
We saw none of your bread and wine.

11
'We saw none of your ferra cow's milk,
Nor wore we of your finest silk.'

12
'O bonny babies, can ye tell me,
What sort of death for you I must die?'

13
'Yes, cruel mother, we'll tell to thee,
What sort of death for us you must die.

14
'Seven years a fowl in the woods,
Seven years a fish in the floods.

15
'Seven years to be a church bell,
Seven years a porter in hell.'

16
'Welcome, welcome, fowl in the wood[s],
Welcome, welcome, fish in the flood[s].

17
'Welcome, welcome, to be a church bell,
But heavens keep me out of hell.'

J

#a.# Harris MS., fol. 10, "Mrs Harris and others." #b.#
Fragment communicated by Dr T. Davidson.

1
She leant her back against a thorn,
Hey for the Rose o' Malindie O
And there she has twa bonnie babes born.
Adoon by the green wood sidie O

2
She's taen the ribbon frae her head,
An hankit their necks till they waur dead.

3
She luikit outowre her castle wa,
An saw twa nakit boys, playin at the ba.

4
'O bonnie boys, waur ye but mine,
I wald feed ye wi flour-bread an wine.'

5
'O fause mother, whan we waur thine,
Ye didna feed us wi flour-bread an wine.'

6
'O bonnie boys, gif ye waur mine,
I wald clied ye wi silk sae fine.'

7
'O fause mother, whan we waur thine,
You didna clied us in silk sae fine.

8
'Ye tuik the ribbon aff your head,
An' hankit our necks till we waur dead.

* * * * * * *

9
'Ye sall be seven years bird on the tree,
Ye sall be seven years fish i the sea.

10
'Ye sall be seven years eel i the pule,
An ye sail be seven years doon into hell.'

11
'Welcome, welcome, bird on the tree,
Welcome, welcome, fish i the sea.

12
'Welcome, welcome, eel i the pule,
But oh for gudesake, keep me frae hell!'

K

Motherwell's MS., p. 186.

1
Lady Margaret looked oer the castle wa,
Hey and a lo and a lilly O
And she saw twa bonnie babes playing at the ba.
Down by the green wood sidy O

2
'O pretty babes, an ye were mine,
I would dress you in the silks so fine.'

3
'O false mother, when we were thine,
Ye did not dress us in silks so fine.'

4
'O bonnie babes, an ye were mine,
I would feed you on the bread and wine.'

5
'O false mother, when we were thine,
Ye did not feed us on the bread and the wine.'

* * * * * * *

6
'Seven years a fish in the sea,
And seven years a bird in the tree.

7
'Seven years to ring a bell,
And seven years porter in hell.'

L

Smith's Scottish Minstrel, IV, 33, 2d ed.

1
A lady lookd out at a castle wa,
Fine flowers in the valley
She saw twa bonnie babes playing at the ba.
And the green leaves they grow rarely

2
'O my bonnie babes, an ye were mine,
I would cleed ye i the scarlet sae fine.

3
'I 'd lay ye saft in beds o down,
And watch ye morning, night and noon.'

4
'O mither dear, when we were thine,
Ye didna cleed us i the scarlet sae fine.

5
'But ye took out yere little pen-knife,
And parted us frae our sweet life.

6
'Ye howkit a hole aneath the moon,
And there ye laid our bodies down.

7
'Ye happit the hole wi mossy stanes,
And there ye left our wee bit banes.

8
'But ye ken weel, O mither dear,
Ye never cam that gate for fear.'

* * * * * * *

9
'Seven lang years ye'll ring the bell,
And see sic sights as ye darna tell.'

M

Communicated by Miss Margaret Reburn, as learned in County
Meath, Ireland, about 1860.

'O mother dear, when we were thine,
All a lee and aloney O
You neither dressed us in coarse or fine.'
Down by the greenwood sidy O

* * * * *

#A.#

_Superscribed_, "Fragment to its own tune. Melancholy."
_Against the first line of the burden is written in the
margin, "~perhaps alas-a-day~," and this change is adopted
in Herd's printed copy. Scott suggested ~well-a-day~._

4^2. _MSS and ed. 1776 have ~ze ... ze'll~._

#B. b.#

"A fragment [_of 5 stanzas_] containing the following
verses, which I have often heard sung in my childhood."
_Scott, III. 259. No burden is given._

1^1. She set her back against.

1^2. young son born.

2^1. O smile nae sae.

3, 4, _wanting_.

5^1. An when that lady went.

5^2. She spied a naked boy.

6^1. O bonnie boy, an ye.

6^2. I'd cleed ye in the silks.

7^2. To me ye were na half.

_Cunningham, Songs of Scotland, I, 340, says:_ "I remember
a verse, and but a verse, of an old ballad which records a
horrible instance of barbarity," _and quotes the first two
stanzas of Scott's fragment literally; from which we may
infer that it was Scott's fragment that he partly
remembered. But he goes on:_ "At this moment a hunter
came--one whose suit the lady had long rejected with
scorn--the brother of her lover:

He took the babe on his spear point,
And threw it upon a thorn:
'Let the wind blow east, the wind blow west,
The cradle will rock alone.'"

_Cunningham's recollection was evidently much confused.
This last stanza, which is not in the metre of the others,
is perhaps from some copy of '~Edom o Gordon~.'_

#D. a.#

6^2. I was.

#b.#

_Kinloch makes slight changes in his printed copy, as
usual._

4^1. until a brier.

5^1. out she 's tane.

6^2. She seemd the lealest maiden amang.

8^1. O an thae.

#E.#

1^1, 11^1. Lurk _may be a corruption of ~York~, which
is written in pencil (by way of suggestion?) in the MSS._

#a.#

16^1. on your.

#b.#

4^1, 14^1. upon a thorn.

5^2. twind _wanting_.

6^1. sattins _wanting_.

_13, 14, 15, 16, 17 are not written out in the note-book_.

18^1. the heavens.

19^2. but there is none.

#F. a.#

_9 stands last but one in the MS._

14^2. Here.

#b.#

4^2. has her.

7^2. sweet _is omitted_.

_Printed as from the MS. in Dixon's Scottish Traditional
Versions, etc., p. 46. Dixon has changed ~baby~ to
~babies~ in 4, 5, 6, 8, and indulges in other variations._

#H.#

_The ballad had been heard with two different burdens;
besides the one given in the text, this:_

Three and three, and three by three
Ah me, some forty three

7 'Lady Mary Ann,' _Johnson's Museum, No 377, begins_:

O Lady Mary Ann looks oer the castle wa,
She saw three bonie boys playing at the ba.

#I. a, b.#

14^1, 16^1. _~fool~, i.e. ~fowl~ spelt phonetically._

#a.#

3^1. greenwoods

#b.#

2^2. it did.

8^2. with white.

11^2. wear'd.

13^2. maun die.

#c.#

"Epitomized" _from Buchan, II, 217_, "and somewhat changed
for this work, some of the changes being made according to
the way the Editor has heard it sung." _Note by Christie,
p. 106._

_Burden_, It 's hey with the rose, etc.

7^1. As a lady was looking.

7^2. She spied twa.

11^2. Nor wore we a.

12^2. What sort of pain for you I must drie.

13^2. What sort of pain for us you must drie.

14^2. And seven.

_Printed as from the MS. in Dixon's Scottish Traditional
Versions of Ancient Ballads, p. 50, '~The Minister's
Dochter o Newarke~,' with a few arbitrary changes._

#J. a.#

9^1. You.

#b.# _has stanzas corresponding to a 1, 3, 4, 6, and, in
place of 2_,

She 's taen oot a little pen-knife,
And she 's robbit them o their sweet life.

_Burden_^1. Hey i the rose o Mylindsay O.

1^1, until a thorn.

1^2. An syne her twa bonnie boys was born.

3^1. As she leukit oer her father's.

3^2. bonnie boys.

4^1. an ye were mine.

4^2. bread.

6^2. claithe ye in.

#L.#

_8 looks like an interpolation, and very probably the
ballad was docked at the beginning in order to suit the
parlor better._

[181] All the genuine ones. 'Lady Anne,' in Scott's Minstrelsy, III, 259, 1803, is on the face of it a modern composition, with extensive variations, on the theme of the popular ballad. It is here given in an Appendix, with a companion piece from Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song.

APPENDIX

LADY ANNE

"This ballad was communicated to me by Mr Kirkpatrick Sharpe of Hoddom, who mentions having copied it from an old magazine. Although it has probably received some modern corrections, the general turn seems to be ancient, and corresponds with that of a fragment [#B b#], which I have often heard sung in my childhood." Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, III, 259, ed. 1803.

Buchan, Gleanings, p. 90, has an additional stanza between 8 and 9 of Scott's, whether from the old magazine or not, it would not be worth the while to ascertain.

Cunningham, Songs of Scotland, I, 339, has rewritten even 'Lady Anne.'

Translated by Schubart, p. 170, and by Gerhard, p. 92.

1
Fair Lady Anne sate in her bower,
Down by the greenwood side,
And the flowers did spring, and the birds did sing,
'Twas the pleasant May-day tide.

2
But fair Lady Anne on Sir William calld,
With the tear grit in her ee,
'O though them be fause, may Heaven thee guard,
In the wars ayont the sea!'

3
Out of the wood came three bonnie boys,
Upon the simmer's morn,
And they did sing and play at the ba',
As naked as they were born.

4
'O seven lang years wad I sit here,
Amang the frost and snaw,
A' to hae but ane o these bonnie boys,
A playing at the ba.'

5
Then up and spake the eldest boy,
'Now listen, thou fair ladie,
And ponder well the rede that I tell,
Then make ye a choice of the three.

6
''Tis I am Peter, and this is Paul,
And that ane, sae fair to see,
But a twelve-month sinsyne to paradise came,
To join with our companie.'

7
'O I will hae the snaw-white boy,
The bonniest of the three:'
'And if I were thine, and in thy propine,
O what wad ye do to me?'

8
''Tis I wad clead thee in silk and gowd,
And nourice thee on my knee:'
'O mither, mither, when I was thine,
Sic kindness I couldna see.

9
'Beneath the turf, where now I stand,
The fause nurse buried me;
The cruel pen-knife sticks still in my heart,
And I come not back to thee.'

* * * * *

"There are many variations of this affecting tale. One of them appears in the Musical Museum, and is there called 'Fine Flowers of the Valley,' of which the present is either the original or a parallel song. I am inclined to think it is the original." Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, p. 267.

This is translated by Talvj, Versuch, p. 571.

1
There sat 'mang the flowers a fair ladie,
Sing ohon, ohon, and ohon O
And there she has born a sweet babie.
Adown by the greenwode side O

2
An strait she rowed its swaddling band,
An O! nae mother grips took her hand.

3
O twice it lifted its bonnie wee ee:
'Thae looks gae through the saul o me!'

4
She buried the bonnie babe neath the brier,
And washed her hands wi mony a tear.

5
And as she kneelt to her God in prayer,
The sweet wee babe was smiling there.

6
'O ay, my God, as I look to thee,
My babe 's atween my God and me.

7
'Ay, ay, it lifts its bonnie wee ee:
'"Sic kindness get as ye shawed me."'

8
'An O its smiles wad win me in,
But I'm borne down by deadly sin.

21

THE MAID AND THE PALMER

#A.# Percy MS., p. 461. 'Lillumwham,' Hales and Furnivall,
IV, 96.

#B.# Sharpe's Ballad Book, ed. Laing, p. 157.

The only English copy of this ballad that approaches completeness is furnished by the Percy manuscript, #A#. Sir Walter Scott remembered, and communicated to Kirkpatrick Sharpe, three stanzas, and half of the burden, of another version, #B#.

There are three versions in #Danish#, no one of them very well preserved. #A#,'Maria Magdalena,' is a broadside of about 1700, existing in two identical editions: Grundtvig, No 98, II, 530; #B#, _ib._, was written down in the Färöe isles in 1848, by Hammershaimb; #C# was obtained from recitation by Kristensen in Jutland in 1869, Jydske Folkeviser, I, 197, No 72, 'Synderinden.'

A #Färöe# version, from the end of the last century or the beginning of this, is given in Grundtvig's notes, p. 533 ff.

Versions recently obtained from recitation in #Norway# are: 'Maria,' Bugge's Gamle Norske Folkeviser, No 18; #A#, p. 88; #B#, p. 90, a fragment, which has since been completed, but only two more stanzas printed, Grundtvig, III, 889; #C#, Bugge, p. 91. #D#, #E# are reported, but only a stanza or two printed, Grundtvig, III, 889f; #F#, printed 890 f, and #G#, as obtained by Lindeman, 891: all these, #D-G#, communicated by Bugge. #C#, and one or two others, are rather Danish than Norwegian.

This is, according to Afzelius, one of the commonest of #Swedish# ballads. These versions are known: #A#, "a broadside of 1798 and 1802," Grundtvig, II, 531, Bergström's Afzelius, I, 335; #B#, 'Magdalena,' Atterbom's Poetisk Kalender for 1816, p. 20; #C#, Afzelius, II, 229; #D#, Arwidsson, I, 377, No 60; #E#, Dybeck's Svenska Visor, Häfte 2, No 6, only two stanzas; #F#, #G#, "in Wiede's collection, in the Swedish Historical and Antiquarian Academy;" #H#, "in Cavallius and Stephens' collection, where also #A#, #F#, #G# are found;" #I#, Maximilian Axelson's Vesterdalarne, p. 171; #J#, 'Jungfru Adelin,' E. Wigström's Folkdiktning, No 38, p. 76; #K#, 'Jungfru Maja,' Album utgifvet af Nyländingar, VI, 227. #A-F# are printed in Grundtvig's notes, II, 533 ff, and also some verses of #G#, #H#.

The ballad is known to have existed in #Icelandic# from a minute of Arne Magnusson, who cites the line, "Swear not, swear not, wretched woman," but it has not been recovered (Grundtvig, III, 891, note d).

#Finnish#, 'Mataleenan vesimatka,' Kanteletar, ed. 1864, p. 240.

The story of the woman of Samaria, John, iv, is in all these blended with mediæval traditions concerning Mary Magdalen, who is assumed to be the same with the woman "which was a sinner," in Luke, vii, 37, and also with Mary, sister of Lazarus. This is the view of the larger part of the Latin ecclesiastical writers, while most of the Greeks distinguish the three (Butler, 'Lives of the Saints,' VII, 290, note). It was reserved for ballads, as Grundtvig remarks, to confound the Magdalen with the Samaritan woman.

The traditional Mary Magdalen was a beautiful woman of royal descent, who derived her surname from Magdalum, her portion of the great family estate. For some of her earlier years entirely given over to carnal delights, "unde jam, proprio nomine perdito, peccatrix consueverat appellari," she was, by the preaching of Jesus, converted to a passionate repentance and devotedness. In the course of the persecution of the church at Jerusalem, when Stephen was slain and the Christians widely dispersed, Mary, with Lazarus, her brother, Martha, and many more, were set afloat on the Mediterranean in a rudderless ship, with the expectation that they would find a watery grave. But the malice of the unbelieving was overruled, and the vessel came safe into port at Marseilles. Having labored some time for the christianizing of the people, and founded churches and bishoprics, Mary retired to a solitude where there was neither water, tree, nor plant, and passed the last thirty years of her life in heavenly contemplation. The cave in which she secluded herself is still shown at La Sainte Baume. The absence of material comforts was, in her case, not so great a deprivation, since every day at the canonical hours she was carried by angels to the skies, and heard, with ears of the flesh, the performances of the heavenly choirs, whereby she was so thoroughly refected that when the angels restored her to her cave she was in need of no bodily aliment. (Golden Legend, Græsse, c. 96.) It is the practical Martha that performs real austerities, and those which are ascribed to her correspond too closely with the penance in the Scandinavian ballads not to be the original of it: "Nam in primis _septem_ annis, glandibus et radicibus herbisque crudis et _pomis_[182] silvestribus corpusculum sustentans potius quam reficiens, victitavit.... Extensis solo ramis arboreis aut viteis, lapide pro cervicali capiti superposito subjecto, ... incumbebat." (Vincent of Beauvais, Spec. Hist., ix, 100.)

The best-preserved Scandinavian ballads concur nearly in this account. A woman at a well, or a stream, is approached by Jesus, who asks for drink. She says she has no vessel to serve him with. He replies that if she were pure, he would drink from her hands. She protests innocence with oaths, but is silenced by his telling her that she has had three children, one with her father, one with her brother, one with her parish priest: Danish #A#, #B#, #C#; Färöe; Swedish #C#, #D#, #F#, #I#, #J#, #K#; Norwegian #A#, #C#, #F#, #G#. She falls at his feet, and begs him to shrive her. Jesus appoints her a seven years' penance in the wood. Her food shall be the buds or the leaves of the tree [grass, worts, berries, bark], her drink the dew [brook, juice of plants], her bed the hard ground [linden-roots, thorns and prickles, rocks, straw and sticks]; all the while she shall be harassed by bears and lions [wolves], or snakes and drakes (this last in Swedish #B#, #C#, #D#, #I#, #K#, Norwegian #A#). The time expired, Jesus returns and asks how she has liked her penance. She answers, as if she had eaten daintily, drunk wine, slept on silk or swan's-down, and had angelic company [had been listening to music].[183] Jesus then tells her that a place is ready for her in heaven.

The penance lasts eight years in Swedish #C#, #F#, #J#, Norwegian #A#; nine in the Färöe ballad; fifteen in Danish #B#; and six weeks in Danish #C#. It is to range the field in Danish #A#, Swedish #F#; to walk the snows barefoot in the Färöe ballad and Norwegian #B#; in Norwegian #D# to stand nine years in a rough stream and eight years naked in the church-paths.

The names Maria, or Magdalena, Jesus, or Christ, are found in most of the Scandinavian ballads. Swedish #E# has 'Lena (Lilla Lena); Swedish #H# He-lena; #J#, Adelin; #K#, Maja. Norwegian #A# gives no name to the woman, and Danish #A# a name only in the burden; Norwegian #B# has, corruptly, Margjit. In Danish #C#, Norwegian #B#, #G#, Jesus is called an _old_ man, correspondingly with the "old palmer" of English #A#, but the old man is afterwards called Jesus in Norwegian #G# (#B# is not printed in full), and in the burden of Danish #C#. The Son is exchanged for the Father in Swedish #D#.

Stanzas 4, 5 of Swedish #A#, #G#, approach singularly near to English #A# 6, 7:

Swedish #A#:

4
'Would thy leman now but come,
Thou wouldst give him to drink out of thy hand.'

5
By all the worlds Magdalen swore,
That leman she never had.

Swedish #G#:

4
'Yes, but if I thy leman were,
I should get drink from thy snow-white hand.'

5
Maria swore by the Holy Ghost,
She neer had to do with any man.

The woman is said to have taken the lives of her three children in Danish #A#, #B#, #C#, and of two in Swedish #C#, #D#, #F#, #I#, #J#, #K# (#B# also, where there are but two in all), a trait probably borrowed from 'The Cruel Mother.'

The seven years' penance of the Scandinavian ballads is multiplied three times in English #A#, and four times in #B# and in those versions of 'The Cruel Mother' which have been affected by the present ballad (20, #I#, #J#, #K#; #L# is defective). What is more important, the penance in the English ballads is completely different in kind, consisting not in exaggerated austerities, but partly, at least, in transmigration or metensomatosis: seven years to be a fish, 20, #I#, #J#, #K#; seven years a bird, 20, #I#, #J#, #K#; seven years a stone, 21, #A#, #B#; seven years an eel, 20, #J#; seven years a bell, or bell-clapper, 20, #I#, 21, #A# (to ring a bell, 20, #K#, #L#). Seven years in hell seems to have been part of the penance or penalty in every case: seven years a porter in hell, 21, #B#, 20, #I#, #K#; seven years down in hell, 20, #J#; seven years to "ring the bell and see sic sights as ye darna tell, 20, #L#;" "other seven to lead an ape in hell," #A#, a burlesque variation of the portership.

The Finnish Mataleena, going to the well for water, sees the reflection of her face, and bewails her lost charms. Jesus begs a drink: she says she has no can, no glass. He bids her confess. "Where are your three boys? One you threw into the fire, one into the water, and one you buried in the wilderness." She fills a pail with her tears, washes his feet, and wipes them with her hair: then asks for penance. "Put me, Lord Jesus, where you will. Make me a ladder-bridge over the sea, a brand in the fire, a coal in the furnace."

There are several Slavic ballads which blend the story of the Samaritan woman and that of 'The Cruel Mother,' without admixture of the Magdalen. #Wendish# #A,# 'Aria' (M-aria?), Haupt and Schmaler, I, 287, No 290, has a maid Who goes for water on Sunday morning, and is joined by an old man who asks for a drink. She says the water is not clean; it is dusty and covered with leaves. He says, The water is clean, but you are unclean. She demands proof, and he bids her go to church in her maiden wreath. This she does. The grass withers before her, a track of blood follows her, and in the churchyard there come to her nine headless boys, who say, Nine sons hast thou killed, chopt off their heads, and meanest to do the same for a tenth. She entreats their forgiveness, enters the church, sprinkles herself with holy water, kneels at the altar and crosses herself, then suddenly sinks into the ground, so that nothing is to be seen but her yellow hair. #B#, 'Die Kindesmörderin,' _ib._, II, 149, No 197, begins like #A#. As the maid proceeds to the church, nine graves open before her, and nine souls follow her into the church. The oldest of her children springs upon her and breaks her neck, saying, "Mother, here is thy reward. Nine of us didst thou kill."

There are two #Moravian# ballads of the same tenor: #A#, Deutsches Museum, 1855, I, 282, translated by M. Klapp: #B#, communicated to the Zeitschrift des böhmischen Museums, 1842, p. 401, by A.W. Šembera, as sung by the "mährisch sprechenden Slawen" in Prussian Silesia; the first seven stanzas translated in Haupt u. Schmaler, II, 314, note to No 197. The Lord God goes out one Sunday morning, and meets a maid, whom he asks for water. She says the water is not clean. He replies that it is cleaner than she; for (#A#) she has seduced fifteen men and had children with all of them, has filled hell with the men and the sea with the children. He sends her to church; but, as she enters the church-yard, the bells begin to ring (of themselves), and when she enters the church, all the images turn their backs. As she falls on her knees, she is changed into a pillar of salt.

The popular ballads of some of the southern nations give us the legend of the Magdalen without mixture.

#French.# #A#, Poésies populaires de la France, I (not paged), from Sermoyer, Ain, thirty lines, made stanzas by repetition. Mary goes from door to door seeking Jesus. He asks what she wants: she answers, To be shriven. Her sins have been such, she says, that the earth ought not to bear her up, the trees that see her can but tremble. For penance she is to stay seven years in the woods of Baume, eat the roots of the trees, drink the dew, and sleep under a juniper. Jesus comes to inquire about her when this space has expired. She says she is well, but her hands, once white as flower-de-luce, are now black as leather. For this Jesus requires her to stay seven years longer, and then, being thoroughly cured of her old vanities, she is told,

'Marie Magdeleine, allez au paradis;
La porte en est ouverte depuis hier à midi.'

#B# is nearly the same legend in Provençal: Damase Arbaud, I, 64. The penance is seven years in a cave, at the end of which Jesus passes, and asks Mary what she has had to eat and drink. "Wild roots, and not always them; muddy water, and not always that." The conclusion is peculiar. Mary expresses a wish to wash her hands. Jesus pricks the rock, and water gushes out. She bewails the lost beauty of her hands, and is remanded to the cavern for another seven years. Upon her exclaiming at the hardship, Jesus tells her that Martha shall come to console her, the wood-dove fetch her food, the birds drink. But Mary is not reconciled:

'Lord God, my good father,
Make me not go back again!
With the tears from my eyes
I will wash my hands clean.

'With the tears from my eyes
I will wash your feet,
And then I will dry them
With the hair of my head.'

#C#, Poésies populaires de la Gascogne, Bladé, 1881, p. 339; 'La pauvre Madeleine,' seventeen stanzas of four short lines, resembles #B# till the close. When Jesus comes back after the second penance, and Mary says, as she had before, that she has lived like the beasts, only she has lacked water, Jesus again causes water to spring from the rock. But Mary says, I want no water. I should have to go back to the cave for another seven years. She is conducted straightway to paradise.

#D#, Bladé, as before, p. 183, 'Marie-Madeleine,' six stanzas of five short lines. Mary is sent to the mountains for seven years' penance; at the end of that time washes her hands in a brook, and is guilty of admiring them; is sent back to the mountains for seven years, and is then taken to heaven.

A #Catalan# ballad combines the legend of the Magdalen's penance with that of her conversion: Milá, Observaciones, p. 128, No 27, 'Santa Magdalena,' and Briz y Saltó, Cansons de la Terra, II, 99. Martha, returning from church, asks Magdalen, who is combing her hair with a gold comb, if she has been at mass. Magdalen says no, nor had she thought of going. Martha advises her to go, for she certainly will fall in love with the preacher, a young man; pity that he ever was a friar. Magdalen attires herself with the utmost splendor, and, to hear the sermon better, takes a place immediately under the pulpit. The first word of the sermon touched her; at the middle she fainted. She stripped off all her ornaments, and laid them at the preacher's feet. At the door of the church she inquired of a penitent where Jesus was to be found. She sought him out at the house of Simon, washed his feet with her tears, and wiped them with her hair, picked up from the floor the bones which he had thrown away. Jesus at last noticed her, and asked what she wished. She wished to confess. He imposed the penance of seven years on a mountain, "eating herbs and fennels, eating bitter herbs." Magdalen turned homewards after the seven years, and found on the way a spring, where she washed her hands, with a sigh over their disfigurement. She heard a voice that said, Magdalen, thou hast sinned. She asked for new penance, and was sent back to the mountain for seven years more. At the end of this second term she died, and was borne to the skies with every honor from the Virgin, saints, and angels.

* * * * *

Danish #A# is translated by Prior, II, 25, No 44: Swedish #C# by William and Mary Howitt, Literature and Romance of Northern Europe, I, 282.

A

Percy MS., p. 461. Furnivall, IV, 96.

1
The maid shee went to the well to washe,
Lillumwham, lillumwham!
The mayd shee went to the well to washe,
Whatt then? what then?
The maid shee went to the well to washe,
Dew ffell of her lilly white fleshe.
Grandam boy, grandam boy, heye!
Leg a derry, leg a merry, mett, mer, whoope, whir!
Driuance, larumben, grandam boy, heye!

2
While shee washte and while shee ronge,
While shee hangd o the hazle wand.

3
There came an old palmer by the way,
Sais, 'God speed thee well, thou faire maid!'

4
'Hast either cupp or can,
To giue an old palmer drinke therin?'

5
Sayes, 'I have neither cupp nor cann,
To giue an old palmer drinke therin.'

6
'But an thy lem_m_an came from Roome,
Cupps and canns thou wold ffind soone.'

7
Shee sware by God & good St. John,
Lemman had shee neuer none.