Chapter XXVI: Part 26

26
Þan said Thom_a_s, Allas! allas!
In faythe þis es a dullfull syghte;
How arte þ_o_u fadyde þus i_n_ þe face,
Þat schane by-fore als þe sonne so bryght[e]!

27
Scho sayd, Thom_a_s, take leue at sone and mon[e],
And als at lefe þ_a_t grewes on tree;
This twelmoneth sall þ_o_u w_i_t_h_ me gone,
And medill-erthe sall þ_o_u none see.'

28
He knelyd downe appon_e_ his knee,
Vndir-nethe þ_a_t grenewod spraye,
And sayd, Lufly lady, rewe on mee,
Mylde qwene of heuen_e_, als þ_o_u beste maye!

29
'Allas!' he sayd, 'and wa es mee!
I trowe my dedis wyll wirke me care;
My saulle, Jh_e_su, by-teche I the,
Whedir-some þ_a_t eu_er_ my banes sall fare.'

30
Scho ledde hy_m_ in at Eldone hill,
Vndir-nethe a derne lee,
Whare it was dirke as mydnyght myrke,
And eu_er_ þe wat_e_r till his knee.

31
The montenans of dayes three,
He herd bot swoghynge of þe flode;
At þe laste he sayde, Full wa es mee!
Almaste I dye, for fawte of f[ode.]

32
Scho lede hy_m_ in-till a faire herbere,
Whare frwte was g[ro]wan[d gret plentee];
Pere and appill, bothe ryppe þay were,
The date, and als the damasee.

33
Þe fygge, and alsso þe wyneberye,
The nyghtgales byggande on þair neste;
Þe papeioyes faste abowte gan_e_ flye,
And throstylls sange, wolde hafe no reste.

34
He p_re_ssede to pulle frowte w_i_t_h_ his hande,
Als man_e_ for fude þ_a_t was nere faynt;
Scho sayd, Thom_a_s, þ_o_u late þam_e_ stande,
Or ells þe fende the will atteynt.

35
If þ_o_u it plokk, sothely to saye,
Thi saule gose to þe fyre of helle;
It co_m_mes neu_er_ owte or domesdaye,
Bot þ_er_ in payne ay for to duelle.

36
Thomas, sothely I the hyghte,
Come lygge thyn_e_ hede down_e_ on my knee,
And [þou] sall se þe fayreste syghte
Þat eu_er_ sawe man_e_ of thi contree.

37
He did in hye als scho hym badde;
Appone hir knee his hede he layde,
Ffor hir to paye he was full glade;
And þan_e_ þat lady to hy_m_ sayde:

38
Seese þ_o_u nowe ȝone faire waye,
Þat lygges ou_er_ ȝone heghe mou_n_tayne?
ȝone es þe waye to heuen_e_ for aye,
When_e_ synfull sawles are passed þer payne.

39
Seese þ_o_u nowe ȝone oþ_er_ waye,
Þat lygges lawe by-nethe ȝone rysse?
ȝone es þe waye, þe sothe to saye,
Vn-to þe joye of paradyse.

40
Seese þ_o_u ȝitt ȝone thirde waye,
Þat ligges vndir ȝone grene playne?
ȝone es þe waye, w_i_t_h_ tene and traye,
Whare synfull saulis suffirris þaire payne.

41
Bot seese þ_o_u nowe ȝone ferthe waye,
Þat lygges ou_er_ ȝone depe delle?
ȝone es þe waye, so waylawaye!
Vn-to þe birnande fyre of helle.

42
Seese þ_o_u ȝitt ȝone faire castelle,
[Þ_a_t standis ouer] ȝone heghe hill?
Of towne and towre it beris þe belle;
In erthe es none lyke it vn-till.

43
Ffor sothe, Thom_a_s, ȝone es myn_e_ awenn_e_,
And þe kynges of this countree;
Bot me ware leu_er_ be hanged and drawen_e_,
Or þat he wyste þou laye by me.

44
When þ_o_u co_m_mes to ȝone castelle gay,
I pray þe curtase man_e_ to bee;
And whate so any man_e_ to þe saye,
Luke þ_o_u answere none bott mee.

45 My lorde es seruede at ylk a mese
W_i_t_h_ thritty knyghttis faire and free;
I sall saye, syttande at the desse,
I tuke thi speche by-ȝonde the see

46
Thom_a_s still als stane he stude,
And he by-helde þat lady gaye;
Scho come agayne als faire and gude,
And also ryche one hir palfraye.

47
Hir grewehundis fillide w_i_t_h_ dere blode,
Hir raches couplede, by my faye;
Scho blewe hir horne w_i_t_h_ mayne and mode,
Vn-to þe castelle scho tuke þe waye.

48
In-to þe haulle sothely scho went,
Thomas foloued at hir hande;
Than ladyes come, bothe faire and gent,
With curtassye to hir knelande.

49
Harpe and fethill bothe þay fande,
Gett_er_ne, and als so þe sawtrye;
Lutte and ryhyne bothe gangande,
And all man_er_e of mynstralsye.

50
Þe most m_er_uelle þ_a_t Thom_a_s thoghte,
When_e_ þat he stode appon_e_ the flore;
Ffor feftty hertis in were broghte,
Þat were bothe grete and store.

51
Raches laye lapande in þe blode,
Cokes come w_i_t_h_ dryssynge knyfe;
Thay brittened þam_e_ als þay were wode;
Reuelle amanges þame was full ryfe.

52
Knyghtis dawnesede by three and three,
There was revelle, gamen_e_ and playe;
Lufly ladyes, faire and free,
That satte and sange one riche araye.

53
Thom_a_s duellide i_n_ that solace
More þan_e_ I ȝowe saye, p_a_rde,
Till one a daye, so hafe I grace,
My lufly lady sayde to mee:

54
Do buske the, Thom_a_s, þe buse agayne,
Ffor þ_o_u may here no lengare be;
Hye the faste, w_i_t_h_ myghte and mayne,
I sall the brynge till Eldone tree.

55
Thom_a_s sayde þan_e_, w_i_t_h_ heuy chere,
Lufly lady, nowe late me bee;
Ffor certis, lady, I hafe bene here
Noghte bot þe space of dayes three.

56
'Ffor sothe, Thomas, als I þe telle,
Þou hase bene here thre ȝere and more;
Bot langere here þ_o_u may noghte duelle;
The skylle I sall þe telle whare-fore.

57
'To morne of helle þe foulle fende
Amange this folke will feche his fee;
And þ_o_u arte mekill man_e_ and hende;
I trowe full wele he wolde chese the.

58
'Ffor alle þe gold þ_a_t eu_e_r may bee,
Ffro hethyn_e_ vn-to þe worldis ende,
Þou bese neu_er_ be-trayede for mee;
Þerefore w_i_t_h_ me I rede thou wende.'

59
Scho broghte hy_m_ agayne to Eldone tree,
Vndir-nethe þ_a_t grenewode spraye;
In Huntlee bannkes es mery to bee,
Whare fowles synges bothe nyght and daye.

60
'Fferre owtt in ȝone mountane graye,
Thomas, my fawkon_e_ bygges a neste;
A fawconn_e_ es an erlis praye;
Ffor-thi in na place may he reste.

61
'Ffare well, Thomas, I wend my waye,
Ffor me by-houys ou_er_ thir benttis brown_e:_'
Loo here a fytt: more es to saye,
All of Thomas of Erselldown_e_.

FYTT II.

1
'Fare wele, Thom_a_s, I wend my waye,
I may no lengare stande wit_h_ the:'
'Gyff me a tokynynge, lady gaye,
That I may saye I spake wit_h_ the.'

2
'To harpe or carpe, whare-so þ_o_u gose,
Thom_a_s, þ_o_u sall hafe þe chose sothely:'
And he saide, Harpynge kepe I none,
Ffor tonge es chefe of mynstralsye.

3
'If þ_o_u will spelle, or tales telle,
Thom_a_s, þ_o_u sall neu_er_ lesynge lye;
Whare eu_er_ þ_o_u fare, by frythe or felle,
I praye the speke none euyll of me.

4
'Ffare wele, Thom_a_s, wit_h_-owttyn_e_ gyle,
I may no lengare duelle with the:'
'Lufly lady, habyde a while,
And telle þ_o_u me of some ferly.'

5
'Thom_a_s, herkyn_e_ what I the saye:' etc.

_Here begin the prophecies._

* * * * *

_~&~ and ~j~ are replaced by ~and~ and ~I~._

2^1. throstyll cokke: throstell, _Cambridge MS._

2^2. menyde hir.

10^1. _Wanting._ She led, etc., _Cambridge_.

12^4, 13^4. _Lansdowne_, elden; _Cambridge_, eldryn,
eldryn_e_.

16^2. prysse.

17^1. prysee.

17^3. wysse.

43^4. me by. _Cambridge_, be me.

46^4. also.

FYTT 2.

2^1. þ_o_u gose. _Cambridge_, ȝe gon.

[304] See the letter of Dr Anderson to Bishop Percy, December 29, 1800, in Nichols's Illustrations of the Literary History of the Eighteenth Century, VII, 178 f.

[305] Chambers' Popular Rhymes of Scotland, 1870, pp. 211-224. See, also, Scott's Minstrelsy, IV, 110-116, 129-151, ed. 1833. But, above all, Dr J. A. H. Murray's Introduction to The Romance and Prophecies of Thomas of Erceldoune, 1875.

[306] Hector Boece (1527) says the surname was Leirmont, but there is no evidence for this that is of value. See Murray, p. xiii.

[307] The five copies have been edited by Dr J. A. H. Murray, and printed by the Early English Text Society. A reconstructed text by Dr Alois Brandl makes the second volume of a Sammlung englischer Denkmäler in kritischen Ausgaben, Berlin, 1880.

[308] Murray, pp xxiv-xxvii. As might be expected, the Latin texts corrupt the names of persons and of places, and alter the results of battles. Dr Murray remarks: "The oldest text makes the Scots win Halidon Hill, with the slaughter of six thousand Englishmen, while the other texts, wise after the fact, makes the Scots lose, as they actually did." This, and the consideration that a question about the conflict between the families of Bruce and Baliol would not be put after 1400, when the Baliol line was extinct, disposes Dr Murray to think that verses 326-56 of the second fit, with perhaps the first fit, the conclusion of the poem, and an indefinite portion of fit third, may have been written on the eve of Halidon Hill, with a view to encourage the Scots.

[309] The poem, vv 675-80, says only that Thomas and the lady did not part for ever and aye, but that she was to visit him at Huntley banks.

[310] The relations of Thomas Rhymer and Ogier might, perhaps, be cleared up by the poem of The Visions of Ogier in Fairy Land. The book is thus described by Brunet, ed. 1863, IV, 173: Le premier (second et troisième) livre des visions d'Oger le Dannoys au royaulme de Fairie, Paris, 1542, pet. in-8, de 48 ff. Brunet adds: A la suite de ce poëme, dans l'exemplaire de la Bibliothèque impériale, se trouve, Le liure des visions fantastiques, Paris, 1542, pet. in-8, de 24 ff. The National Library is not now in possession of the volume; nor have all the inquiries I have been able to make, though most courteously aided in France, resulted, as I hoped, in the finding of a copy.

[311] Excepting the two satirical stanzas with which Scott's version (#C#) concludes. "The repugnance of Thomas to be debarred the use of falsehood when he should find it convenient," may have, as Scott says, "a comic effect," but is, for a ballad, a miserable conceit. Both ballad and romance are serious.

[312] Eildon Tree, the site of which is supposed now to be marked by the Eildon Tree Stone, stood, or should have stood, on the slope of the eastern of the three Eildon Hills. Huntly Banks are about half a mile to the west of the Eildon Stone, on the same hill-slope. Erceldoun, a village on the Leader, two miles above its junction with the Tweed, is all but visible from the Eildon Stone. Murray, pp l-lii.

[313] In #B# 2, absurdly, the lady holds nine bells in her hand. Ringing or jingling bridles are ascribed to fairies, Tam Lin, #A# 37, Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, p. 298 ("manes hung wi whustles that the win played on," p. 299). The fairy's saddle has a bordure of bells in the English Launfal, Halliwell's Illustrations of Fairy Mythology, p. 31, but not in Marie's lai. The dwarf-king Antiloie, in Ulrich Von Eschenbach's Alexander, has bells on his bridle: Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, I, 385. These bells, however, are not at all distinctive of fairies, but are the ordinary decoration of elegant "outriders" in the Middle Ages, especially of women. In the romance of Richard Cœur de Lion, a messenger's trappings ring with five hundred bells. Besides the bridle, bells were sometimes attached to the horse's breastplate, to the saddle-bow, crupper, and stirrups. Conde Claros's steed has three hundred around his breastplate. See Weber's Metrical Romances, R.C. de Lion, vv 1514-17, 5712-14, cited by T. Wright, History of Domestic Manners in England, 214 f; Liebrecht, Gervasius, p. 122; Kölbing, Englische Studien, III, 105; Zupitza and Varnhagen, Anglia, III, 371, IV, 417; and particularly A. Schultz, Das höfische Leben zur Zeit der Minnesinger, I, 235, 388-91.

[314] The original I suppose to be the very cheerful tale of Ogier, with which the author of Thomas of Erceldoune has blended a very serious one, without any regard to the irreconcilableness of the two. He is presently forced to undo this melancholy transformation of the fairy, as we shall see. Brandl, 'Thomas of Erceldoune,' p. 20, cites from Giraldus Cambrensis, Itinerarium Cambriæ, I, 5, a story about one Meilyr, a Welshman, the like of which our poet had in mind. This Meilyr was a great soothsayer, and "owed his skill to the following adventure:" Being in company one evening with a girl for whom he had long had a passion, desideratis amplexibus atque deliciis cum indulsisset, statim loco puellæ formosæ formam quamdam villosam, hispidam et hirsutam, adeoque enormiter deformem invenit, quod in ipso ejusdem aspectu dementire cœpit et insanire. Meilyr recovered his reason after several years, through the merits of the saints, but always kept up an intimacy with unclean spirits, and by their help foretold the future. It is not said that they gave him the tongue that never could lie, but no other tongue could lie successfully in his presence: he always saw a little devil capering on it. He was able, by similar indications, to point out the lies and errors of books. The experiment being once tried of laying the Gospel of John in his lap, every devil instantly decamped. Geoffrey of Monmouth's history was substituted, and imps swarmed all over the book and him, too.

[315] #B# 8^{3,4} "It was a' that cursed fruit o thine beggared man and woman in your countrie:" the fruit of the Forbidden Tree.

[316] Purgatory is omitted in the Cotton MS. of the romance, as in the ballad.

[317] Ogier le Danois hardly exceeded the proportion of the ordinary hyperbole of lovers: two hundred years seemed but twenty. The British king Herla lived with the king of the dwarfs more than two hundred years, and thought the time but three days: Walter Mapes, Nugæ Curialium, ed. Wright, p. 16 f (Liebrecht). The strongest case, I believe, is the exquisite legend, versified by Trench, of the monk, with whom three hundred years passed, while he was listening to a bird's song--as he thought, less than three hours. For some of the countless repetitions of the idea, see Pauli's Schimpf und Ernst, ed. Oesterley, No 562, and notes, p. 537; Liebrecht's Gervasins, p. 89; W. Hertz, Deutsche Sage im Elsass, pp 115-18, 263; A. Graf, La Leggenda del Paradiso Terrestre, pp 26-29, 31-33, and notes; J. Koch, Die Siebenschläferlegende, kap. ii.

[318] In an exquisite little ballad obtained by Tommaseo from a peasant-girl of Empoli, I, 26, a lover who had visited hell, and there met and kissed his mistress, is told by her that he must not hope ever to go thence. How the lover escaped in this instance is not explained. Such things happen sometimes, but not often enough to encourage one to take the risk.

Sono stato all' inferno, e son tornato:
Misericordia, la gente che c'era!
V'era una stanza tutta illuminata,
E dentro v'era la speranza mia.
Quando mi vedde, gran festa mi fece,
E poi mi disse: Dolce anima mia,
Non ti arricordi del tempo passato,
Quando tu mi dicevi, "anima mia?"
Ora, mio caro ben, baciami in bocca,
Baciami tanto ch'io contenta sia.
È tanto saporita la tua bocca!
Di grazia saporisci anco la mia.
Ora, mio caro ben, che m'hai baciato,
Di qui non isperar d'andarne via.

[319] #A# 8, 9, #R# 34, 35. It was not that Thomas was about to pluck fruit from the Forbidden Tree, though #B# understands it so: cf. #R# 32, 33. The curse of this tree seems, however, to have affected all Paradise. In modern Greek popular poetry Paradise occurs sometimes entirely in the sense of Hades. See B. Schmidt, Volksleben der Neugriechen, p. 249.

[320] Jamieson, in Illustrations of Northern Antiquities, p. 398: 'Child Rowland and Burd Ellen.'

[321] Niedersächsische Sagen und Märchen, Schambach und Müller, p. 373. Shakspere has this: "They are fairies; he that speaks to them shall die;" Falstaff, in Merry Wives of Windsor, V, 5. Ancient Greek tradition is not without traces of the same ideas. It was Persephone's eating of the pomegranate kernel that consigned her to the lower world, in spite of Zeus and Demeter's opposition. The drinking of Circe's brewage and the eating of lotus had an effect on the companions of Ulysses such as is sometimes ascribed to the food and drink of fairies, or other demons, that of producing forgetfulness of home: Odyssey, X, 236, IX, 97. But it would not be safe to build much on this. A Hebrew tale makes the human wife of a demon charge a man who has come to perform, a certain service for the family not to eat or drink in the house, or to take any present of her husband, exactly repeating the precautions observed in Grimm, Deutsche Sagen, Nos 41, 49: Tendlan, Das Buch der Sagen und Legenden jüdischer Vorzeit, p. 141. The children of Shem may probably have derived this trait in the story from the children of Japhet. Aladdin, in the Arabian Nights, is to have a care, above all things, that he does not touch the walls of the subterranean chamber so much as with his clothes, or he will die instantly. This again, by itself, is not very conclusive.

[322] Historia Danica, l. viii: Müller et Velschow, I, 420-25.

38

THE WEE WEE MAN

#A. a.# 'The Wee Wee Man,' Herd's MSS, I, 153; Herd's
Scottish Songs, 1776, I, 95.

#B.# Caw's Poetical Museum, p. 348.

#C.# 'The Wee Wee Man,' Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 234, ed.
1802.

#D.# 'The Wee Wee Man,' Kinloch MSS, VII, 253.

#E. a.# 'The Wee Wee Man,' Motherwell's Note-Book, fol.
40; Motherwell's MS., p. 195. #b.# Motherwell's
Minstrelsy, p. 343.

#F.# 'The Wee Wee Man,' Motherwell's MS., p. 68.

#G.# 'The Little Man,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of
Scotland, I, 263.

This extremely airy and sparkling little ballad varies but slightly in the half dozen known copies. The one in the Musical Museum, No 370, p. 382, and that in Ritson's Scotish Songs, II, 139, are reprinted from Herd.

Singularly enough, there is a poem in eight-line stanzas, in a fourteenth-century manuscript, which stands in somewhat the same relation to this ballad as the poem of Thomas of Erceldoune does to the ballad of Thomas Rymer, but with the important difference that there is no reason for deriving the ballad from the poem in this instance. There seems to have been an intention to make it, like Thomas of Erceldoune, an introduction to a string of prophecies which follows, but no junction has been effected. This poem is given in an appendix.

* * * * *

#A# is translated by Arndt, Blütenlese, p. 210; #B#, with a few improvements from #E b#, by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder, p. 12.

A

Herd's MSS, I, 153, Herd's Ancient and Modern Scottish
Songs, 1776, I, 95.

1
As I was wa'king all alone,
Between a water and a wa,
And there I spy'd a wee wee man,
And he was the least that ere I saw.

2
His legs were scarce a shathmont's length,
And thick and thimber was his thigh;
Between his brows there was a span,
And between his shoulders there was three.

3
He took up a meikle stane,
And he flang't as far as I could see;
Though I had been a Wallace wight,
I couldna liften 't to my knee.

4
'O wee wee man, but thou be strang!
O tell me where thy dwelling be?'
'My dwelling's down at yon bonny bower;
O will you go with me and see?'

5
On we lap, and awa we rade,
Till we came to yon bonny green;
We lighted down for to bait our horse,
And out there came a lady fine.

6
Four and twenty at her back,
And they were a' clad out in green;
Though the King of Scotland had been there,
The warst o them might hae been his queen.

7
On we lap, and awa we rade,
Till we came to yon bonny ha,
Whare the roof was o the beaten gould,
And the floor was o the cristal a'.

8
When we came to the stair-foot,
Ladies were dancing, jimp and sma,
But in the twinkling of an eye,
My wee wee man was clean awa.

B

Caw's Poetical Museum, p. 348.

1
As I was walking by my lane,
Atween a water and a wa,
There sune I spied a wee wee man,
He was the least that eir I saw.

2
His legs were scant a shathmont's length,
And sma and limber was his thie;
Atween his shoulders was ae span,
About his middle war but three.

3
He has tane up a meikle stane,
And flang 't as far as I cold see;
Ein thouch I had been Wallace wicht,
I dought na lift 't to my knie.

4
'O wee wee man, but ye be strang!
Tell me whar may thy dwelling be?
'I dwell beneth that bonnie bouir;
O will ye gae wi me and see?'

5
On we lap, and awa we rade,
Till we cam to a bonny green;
We lichted syne to bait our steid,
And out there cam a lady sheen.

6
Wi four and twentie at her back,
A' comely cled in glistering green;
Thouch there the King of Scots had stude,
The warst micht weil hae been his queen.

7
On syne we past wi wondering cheir,
Till we cam to a bonny ha;
The roof was o the beaten gowd,
The flure was o the crystal a'.

8
When we cam there, wi wee wee knichts
War ladies dancing, jimp and sma,
But in the twinkling of an eie,
Baith green and ha war clein awa.

C

Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 234, ed. 1802, incorporated with
'The Young Tamlane.' From recitation.

1
'Twas down by Carterhaugh, father,
I walked beside the wa,
And there I saw a wee wee man,
The least that eer I saw.

2
His legs were skant a shathmont lang,
Yet umber was his thie;
Between his brows there was ae span,
And between his shoulders three.

3
He's taen and flung a meikle stane,
As far as I could see;
I could na, had I been Wallace wight,
Hae lifted it to my knee.

4
'O wee wee man, but ye be strang!
Where may thy dwelling be?'
'It 's down beside yon bonny bower;
Fair lady, come and see.'

5
On we lap, and away we rade,
Down to a bonny green;
We lighted down to bait our steed,
And we saw the fairy queen.

6
With four and twenty at her back,
Of ladies clad in green;
Tho the King of Scotland had been there,
The worst might hae been his queen.

7
On we lap, and away we rade,
Down to a bonny ha;
The roof was o the beaten goud,
The floor was of chrystal a'.

8
And there were dancing on the floor,
Fair ladies jimp and sma;
But in the twinkling o an eye,
They sainted clean awa.

D

Kinloch MSS, VII, 253. From Mrs Elder.

1
As I gaed out to tak a walk,
Atween the water and the wa,
There I met wi a wee wee man,
The weest man that ere I saw.

2
Thick and short was his legs,
And sma and thin was his thie,
And atween his een a flee might gae,
And atween his shouthers were inches three.

3
And he has tane up a muckle stane,
And thrown it farther than I c_ou_d see;
If I had been as strong as ere Wallace was,
I c_ou_d na lift it to my knie.

4
'O,' quo I, 'but ye be strong!
And O where may your dwelling be?'
'It 's down in to yon bonnie glen;
Gin ye dinna believe, ye can come and see.'

5
And we rade on, and we sped on,
Till we cam to yon bonny glen,
And there we lichted and louted in,
And there we saw a dainty dame.

6
There was four and twenty wating on her,
And ilka ane was clad in green,
And he had been the king of fair Scotland,
The warst o them micht hae been his queen.

7
There war pipers playing on ilka stair,
And ladies dancing in ilka ha,
But before ye c_ou_d hae sadd what was that,
The house and wee manie was awa.

E

#a.# Motherwell's Note-Book, fol. 40, "from Agnes Lyle;"
Motherwell's MS., p. 195, "from the recitation of Agnes
Laird, Kilbarchan." #b.# Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 343.

1
As I was walking mine alone,
Betwext the water and the wa,
There I spied a wee wee man,
He was the least ane that eer I saw.

2
His leg was scarse a shaftmont lang,
Both thick and nimble was his knee;
Between his eyes there was a span,
Betwixt his shoulders were ells three.

3
This wee wee man pulled up a stone,
He flang't as far as I could see;
Tho I had been like Wallace strong,
I wadna gotn't up to my knee.

4
I said, Wee man, oh, but you're strong!
Where is your dwelling, or where may't be?
'My dwelling's at yon bonnie green;
Fair lady, will ye go and see?'

5
On we lap, and awa we rade,
Until we came to yonder green;
We lichtit down to rest our steed,
And there cam out a lady soon.

6
Four and twenty at her back,
And every one of them was clad in green;
Altho he had been the King of Scotland,
The warst o them a' micht hae been his queen.

7
There were pipers playing in every neuk,
And ladies dancing, jimp and sma,
And aye the owre-turn o their tune
Was 'Our wee wee man has been lang awa.'

F

Motherwell's MS., p. 68, "from the recitation of Mrs
Wilson, of the Renfrewshire Tontine; now of the Caledonian
Hotel, Inverness."

1
As I was walking mine alane,
Between the water and the wa,
And oh there I spy'd a wee wee mannie,
The weeest mannie that ere I saw.

2
His legs they were na a gude inch lang,
And thick and nimble was his thie;
Between his een there was a span,
And between his shouthers there were ells three.

3
I asked at this wee wee mannie
Whare his dwelling place might be;
The answer that he gied to me
Was, Cum alang, and ye shall see.

4
So we'll awa, and on we rade,
Till we cam to yon bonnie green;
We lichted down to bait our horse,
And up and started a lady syne.

5
Wi four and twenty at her back,
And they were a' weell clad in green;
Tho I had been a crowned king,
The warst o them might ha been my queen.

6
So we'll awa, and on we rade,
Till we cam to yon bonnie hall;
The rafters were o the beaten gold,
And silver wire were the kebars all.

7
And there was mirth in every end,
And ladies dancing, ane and a,
And aye the owre-turn o their sang
Was 'The wee wee mannie's been lang awa.'

G

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 263.

1
As I gaed out to tak the air,
Between Midmar and bonny Craigha,
There I met a little wee man,
The less o him I never saw.

2
His legs were but a finger lang,
And thick and nimle was his knee;
Between his brows there was a span,
Between his shoulders ells three.

3
He lifted a stane sax feet in hight,
He lifted it up till his right knee,
And fifty yards and mair, I'm sure,
I wyte he made the stane to flee.

4
'O little wee man, but ye be wight!
Tell me whar your dwelling be;'
'I hae a bower, compactly built,
Madam, gin ye'll cum and see.'

5
Sae on we lap, and awa we rade,
Till we come to yon little ha;
The kipples ware o the gude red gowd,
The reef was o the proseyla.

6
Pipers were playing, ladies dancing,
The ladies dancing, jimp and sma;
At ilka turning o the spring,
The little man was wearin's wa.

7
Out gat the lights, on cam the mist,
Ladies nor mannie mair coud see
I turnd about, and gae a look,
Just at the foot o' Benachie.

* * * * *

#A.#

2^2. _The printed copy has ~thighs~._

4^3. dwelling down.

_There is a copy of this ballad in ~Cunningham's Songs of
Scotland, I, 303~. Though no confidence can be felt in the
genuineness of the "~several variations from recitation
and singing~," with which Cunningham says he sought to
improve Herd's version, the more considerable ones are
here noted._

1^3. O there I met.

2^1. a shathmont lang.

3^3. been a giant born.

4^1. ye're wonder strong.

4^4. O ladie, gang wi me.

5^1. away we flew.

5^2. to a valley green.

5^3. down and he stamped his foot.

5^4. And up there rose.

6^1. Wi four.

6^2. the glossy green.

7^2. stately ha.

8.
And there were harpings loud and sweet,
And ladies dancing, jimp and sma;
He clapped his hands, and ere I wist,
He sank and saunted clean awa.

#E. a.#

4^1. your.

_Motherwell has made one or two slight changes in copying
from his Note-Book into his MS._

#b.# _Besides some alterations of his own, Motherwell has
introduced readings from #F#._

2^4. there were.

3^3 as Wallace.

5^4. lady sheen.

6^1. Wi four.

6^2. And they were a' weel clad.

_After 6 is inserted #F# 6, with the first line changed
to_

So on we lap, and awa we rade.

APPENDIX.

This piece is found in Cotton MS., Julius, A, V, the ninth article in the manuscript, fol. 175, r^o, (otherwise 180, r^o). It is here given nearly as printed by Mr Thomas Wright in his edition of the Chronicle of Pierre de Langtoft, II, 452. It had been previously printed in Ritson's Ancient Songs, ed. 1829, I, 40; Finlay's Scottish Ballads, II, 168; the Retrospective Review, Second Series, II, 326. The prophecies, omitted here, are given by all the above.

1
Als y yod on ay Mounday
Bytwene Wyltinden and Walle,
Me ane aftere brade waye,
Ay litel man y mette withalle;
The leste that ever I sathe, [sothe] to say,
Oithere in boure, oithere in halle;
His robe was noithere grene na gray,
Bot alle yt was of riche palle.

2
On me he cald, and bad me bide;
Well stille y stode ay litel space;
Fra Lanchestre the parke syde
Yeen he come, wel fair his pase.
He hailsed me with mikel pride;
Ic haved wel mykel ferly wat he was;
I saide, Wel mote the bityde!
That litel man with large face.

3
I biheld that litel man
Bi the stretes als we gon gae;
His berd was syde ay large span,
And glided als the fethere of pae;
His heved was wyte als any swan,
His hegehen ware gret and grai alsso;
Brues lange, wel I the can
Merke it to five inches and mae.

4
Armes scort, for sothe I saye,
Ay span seemed thaem to bee;
Handes brade, vytouten nay,
And fingeres lange, he scheued me.
Ay stan he toke op thare it lay,
And castid forth that I mothe see;
Ay merke-soote of large way
Bifor me strides he castid three.

5
Wel stille I stod als did the stane,
To loke him on thouth me nouthe lange;
His robe was alle golde bigane,
Wel craftlike maked, I underestande;
Botones asurd, everlke ane,
Fra his elbouthe on til his hande;
Eldelike man was he nane,
That in myn herte icke onderestande.

6
Til him I sayde ful sone on ane,
For forthirmare I wald him fraine,
Glalli wild I wit thi name,
And I wist wat me mouthe gaine;
Thou ert so litel of flesse and bane,
And so mikel of mithe and mayne;
Ware vones thou, litel man, at hame?
Wit of the I walde ful faine.

7
'Thoth I be litel and lith,
Am y nothe wytouten wane;
Fferli frained thou wat I hith,
Yat thou salt noth with my name.
My wonige stede ful wel es dyth,
Nou sone thou salt se at hame.'
Til him I sayde, For Godes mith,
Lat me forth myn erand gane.

8
'The thar noth of thin errand lette,
Thouth thou come ay stonde wit me;
Forthere salt thou noth bisette
Bi miles twa noythere bi three.'
Na linger durste I for him lette,
But forth ij fundid wyt that free;
Stintid vs broke no becke;
Ferlicke me thouth hu so mouth bee.

9
He vent forth, als ij you say,
In at ay yate, ij underestande;
Intil ay yate, wundouten nay;
It to se thouth me nouth lange.
The bankers on the binkes lay,
And fair lordes sette ij fonde;
In ilka ay hirn ij herd ay lay,
And levedys south meloude sange.

The meeting with the little man was on Monday. We are now
invited to listen to a tale told on Wednesday by "a moody
barn," who is presently addressed, in language which, to
be sure, fits the elf well enough, as "merry man, that is
so wight:" but things do not fay at all here.

10 Lithe, bothe yonge and alde:
Of ay worde ij will you saye,
A litel tale that me was tald
Erli on ay Wedenesdaye.
A mody barn, that was ful bald,
My frend that ij frained aye,
Al my yerning he me tald,
And yatid me als we went bi waye.

11
'Miri man, that es so wythe,
Of ay thinge gif me answere:
For him that mensked man wyt mith,
Wat sal worth of this were?' &c.

* * * * *

_The orthography of this piece, if rightly rendered, is
peculiar, and it is certainly not consistent._

1^5. _~saith~ for ~saw~ occurs in 23^3._

2^4. _Wright_, Y cen: _Retrosp. Rev._, Yeen.

3^8. _W._, Merkes: _R. R._, Merke. fize.

5^5. _W._, everlkes: _R. R._, euerelke.

6^8. _W._, of their: _R. R._, of ye (þe). i. wald.

7^4. _W._, That thou: _R. R._, yat.

7^5. dygh.

9^4. south me.

9^8. me loude.

10^7. _W._, thering: _R. R._, yering.

10^8. _W._, y atid: _R. R._, yatid.

39

TAM LIN

#A.# 'Tam Lin,' Johnson's Museum, p. 423, 1792.
Communicated by Burns.

#B.# 'Young Tom Line,' Glenriddell MS., vol. xi, No 17,
1791.

#C.# 'Kertonha, or, The Fairy Court,' Herd, The Ancient
and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 300.

#D.# 'Tom Linn.' #a.# Motherwell's MS., p. 532. #b.#
Maidment's New Book of Old Ballads, p. 54. #c.# 'Tom o
Linn,' Pitcairn's MSS, III, fol. 67.

#E.# 'Young Tamlin,' Motherwell's Note-Book, fol. 13.

#F.# 'Tomaline,' Motherwell's MS., p. 64.

#G.# 'Tam-a-line, the Elfin Knight,' Buchan's MSS, I, 8;
'Tam a-Lin, or The Knight of Faerylande,' Motherwell's
MS., p. 595. Dixon, Scottish Traditionary Versions of
Ancient Ballads, Percy Society, XVII, 11.

#H.# 'Young Tam Lane,' Campbell MSS, II, 129.

#I.# 'The Young Tamlane.' Minstrelsy of the Scottish
Border: #a#, II, 337, ed. 1833; #b#, II, 228, ed. 1802.

The first twenty-two stanzas of #B# differ from the corresponding ones in #A#, 1-23, omitting 16, by only a few words, and there are other agreements in the second half of these versions. Burns's intimacy with Robert Riddell would naturally lead to a communication from one to the other; but both may have derived the verses that are common from the same third party. Herd's fragment, #C#, was the earliest printed. Scott's version, #I#, as he himself states, was compounded of the Museum copy, Riddell's, Herd's, and "several recitals from tradition." #I b#, the edition of 1802, contained fragments of 'The Bromfield Hill' and of 'The Wee Wee Man,' which were dropped from the later edition; but unfortunately this later edition was corrupted with eleven new stanzas, which are not simply somewhat of a modern cast as to diction, as Scott remarks, but of a grossly modern invention, and as unlike popular verse as anything can be. #I# is given according to the later edition, with those stanzas omitted; and all that is peculiar to this version, and not taken from the Museum, Glenriddell, or Herd, is distinguished from the rest by the larger type. This, it will be immediately seen, is very little.

The copy in Tales of Wonder, II, 459, is #A#, altered by Lewis. Mr Joseph Robertson notes, Kinloch MSS, VI, 10, that his mother had communicated to him some fragments of this ballad slightly differing from Scott's version, with a substitution of the name True Tammas for Tam Lane.

The Scots Magazine for October, 1818, LXXXII, 327-29, has a "fragment" of more than sixty stanzas, composed in an abominable artificial lingo, on the subject of this ballad, and alleged to have been taken from the mouth of a good old peasant, who, not having heard the ballad for thirty years, could remember no more. Thomas the Rhymer appears in the last lines with very great distinction, but it is not clear what part he has in the story.[323]

A copy printed in Aberdeen, 1862, and said to have been edited by the Rev. John Burnett Pratt, of Cruden, Aberdeenshire, is made up from Aytoun and Scott, with a number of slight changes.[324]

'The Tayl of the ȝong Tamlene' is spoken of as told among a company of shepherds, in Vedderburn's Complaint of Scotland, 1549, p. 63 of Dr James A. H. Murray's edition for the Early English Text Society. 'Thom of Lyn' is mentioned as a dance of the same party, a little further on, Murray, p. 66, and 'Young Thomlin' is the name of an air in a medley in "Wood's MS.," inserted, as David Laing thought, between 1600 and 1620, and printed in Forbes's Cantus, 1666: Stenhouse's ed. of The Scots Musical Museum, 1853, IV, 440. "A ballett of Thomalyn" is licensed to Master John Wallye and Mistress Toye in 1558: Arber, Transcript of the Registers of the Company of Stationers, I, 22; cited by Furnivall, Captain Cox, &c., Ballad Society, p. clxiv.

Sir Walter Scott relates a tradition of an attempt to rescue a woman from fairydom which recalls the ill success of many of the efforts to disenchant White Ladies in Germany: "The wife of a farmer in Lothian had been carried off by the fairies, and, during the year of probation, repeatedly appeared on Sunday, in the midst of her children, combing their hair. On one of these occasions she was accosted by her husband; when she related to him the unfortunate event which had separated them, instructed him by what means he might win her, and exhorted him to exert all his courage, since her temporal and eternal happiness depended on the success of his attempt. The farmer, who ardently loved his wife, set out at Halloween, and, in the midst of a plot of furze, waited impatiently for the procession of the fairies. At the ringing of the fairy bridles, and the wild, unearthly sound which accompanied the cavalcade, his heart failed him, and he suffered the ghostly train to pass by without interruption. When the last had rode past, the whole troop vanished, with loud shouts of laughter and exultation, among which he plainly discovered the voice of his wife, lamenting that he had lost her forever." The same author proceeds to recount a real incident, which took place at the town of North Berwick, within memory, of a man who was prevented from undertaking, or at least meditating, a similar rescue only by shrewd and prompt practical measures on the part of his minister.[325]

This fine ballad stands by itself, and is not, as might have been expected, found in possession of any people but the Scottish. Yet it has connections, through the principal feature in the story, the retransformation of Tam Lin, with Greek popular tradition older than Homer.

Something of the successive changes of shape is met with in a Scandinavian ballad: 'Nattergalen,' Grundtvig, II, 168, No 57; 'Den förtrollade Prinsessan,' Afzelius, II, 67, No 41, Atterbom, Poetisk Kalender, 1816, p. 44; Dybeck, Runa, 1844, p. 94, No 2; Axelson, Vandring i Wermlands Elfdal, p. 21, No 3; Lindeman, Norske Fjeldmelodier, Tekstbilag til 1ste Bind, p. 3, No 10.

Though many copies of this ballad have been obtained from the mouth of the people, all that are known are derived from flying sheets, of which there is a Danish one dated 1721 and a Swedish of the year 1738. What is of more account, the style of the piece, as we have it, is not quite popular. Nevertheless, the story is entirely of the popular stamp, and so is the feature in it, which alone concerns us materially. A nightingale relates to a knight how she had once had a lover, but a step-mother soon upset all that, and turned her into a bird and her brother into a wolf. The curse was not to be taken off the brother till he drank of his step-dame's blood, and after seven years he caught her, when she was taking a walk in a wood, tore out her heart, and regained his human shape. The knight proposes to the bird that she shall come and pass the winter in his bower, and go back to the wood in the summer: this, the nightingale says, the step-mother had forbidden, as long as she wore feathers. The knight seizes the bird by the foot, takes her home to his bower, and fastens the windows and doors. She turns to all the marvellous beasts one ever heard of,--to a lion, a bear, a variety of small snakes, and at last to a loathsome lind-worm. The knight makes a sufficient incision for blood to come, and a maid stands on the floor as fair as a flower. He now asks after her origin, and she answers, Egypt's king was my father, and its queen my mother; my brother was doomed to rove the woods as a wolf. "If Egypt's king," he rejoins, "was your father, and its queen your mother, then for sure you are my sister's daughter, who was doomed to be a nightingale."[326]

We come much nearer, and indeed surprisingly near, to the principal event of the Scottish ballad in a Cretan fairy-tale, cited from Chourmouzis by Bernhard Schmidt.[327] A young peasant of the village Sgourokepháli, who was a good player on the rote, used to be taken by the nereids into their grotto for the sake of his music. He fell in love with one of them, and, not knowing how to help himself, had recourse to an old woman of his village. She gave him this advice: that just before cock-crow he should seize his beloved by the hair, and hold on, unterrified, till the cock crew, whatever forms she should assume. The peasant gave good heed, and the next time he was taken into the cave fell to playing, as usual, and the nereids to dancing. But as cock-crow drew nigh, he put down his instrument, sprang upon the object of his passion, and grasped her by her locks. She instantly changed shape; became a dog, a snake, a camel, fire. But he kept his courage and held on, and presently the cock crew, and the nereids vanished all but one. His love returned to her proper beauty, and went with him to his home. After the lapse of a year she bore a son, but in all this time never uttered a word. The young husband was fain to ask counsel of the old woman again, who told him to heat the oven hot, and say to his wife that if she would not speak he would throw the boy into the oven. He acted upon this prescription; the nereid cried out, Let go my child, dog! tore the infant from his arms, and vanished.

This Cretan tale, recovered from tradition even later than our ballad, repeats all the important circumstances of the forced marriage of Thetis with Peleus. Chiron, like the old woman, suggested to his protégé that he should lay hands on the nereid, and keep his hold through whatever metamorphosis she might make. He looked out for his opportunity and seized her; she turned to fire, water, and a wild beast, but he did not let go till she resumed her primitive shape. Thetis, having borne a son, wished to make him immortal; to which end she buried him in fire by night, to burn out his human elements, and anointed him with ambrosia by day. Peleus was not taken into counsel, but watched her, and saw the boy gasping in the fire, which made him call out; and Thetis, thus thwarted, abandoned the child and went back to the nereids. Apollodorus, Bibliotheca, III, 13, 5, 6.

The Cretan tale does not differ from the one repeated by Apollodorus from earlier writers a couple of thousand years ago more than two versions of a story gathered from oral tradition in these days are apt to do. Whether it has come down to our time from mouth to mouth through twenty-five centuries or more, or whether, having died out of the popular memory, it was reintroduced through literature, is a question that cannot be decided with certainty; but there will be nothing unlikely in the former supposition to those who bear in mind the tenacity of tradition among people who have never known books.[328]

#B# 34,

First dip me in a stand of milk,
And then in a stand of water;
Haud me fast, let me na gae,
I'll be your bairnie's father,

has an occult and very important significance which has only very lately been pointed out, and which modern reciters had completely lost knowledge of, as appears by the disorder into which the stanzas have fallen.[329] Immersion in a liquid, generally water, but sometimes milk, is a process requisite for passing from a non-human shape, produced by enchantment, back into the human, and also for returning from the human to a non-human state, whether produced by enchantment or original. We have seen that the serpent which Lanzelet kisses, in Ulrich's romance, is not by that simple though essential act instantly turned into a woman. It is still necessary that she should bathe in a spring (p. 308). In an Albanian tale, 'Taubenliebe,' Hahn, No 102, II, 130, a dove flies into a princess's window, and, receiving her caresses, asks, Do you love me? The princess answering Yes, the dove says, Then have a dish of milk ready to-morrow, and you shall see what a handsome man I am. A dish of milk is ready the next morning; the dove flies into the window, dips himself in the milk, drops his feathers, and steps out a beautiful youth. When it is time to go, the youth dips in the milk, and flies off a dove. This goes on every day for two years. A Greek tale, 'Goldgerte,' Hahn, No 7, I, 97, has the same transformation, with water for milk. Our #B# 34 has well-water only.[330] Perhaps the bath of milk occurred in one earlier version of our ballad, the water-bath in another, and the two accounts became blended in time.

The end of the mutations, in #F# 11, #G# 43, is a naked man, and a mother-naked man in #B# 33, under the presumed right arrangement; meaning by right arrangement, however, not the original arrangement, but the most consistent one for the actual form of the tradition. Judging by analogy, the naked man should issue from the bath of milk or of water; into which he should have gone in one of his non-human shapes, a dove, swan, or snake (for which, too, a "stand" of milk or of water is a more practicable bath than for a man). The fragment #C# adds some slight probability to this supposition. The last change there is into "a dove but and a swan;" then Tam Lin bids the maiden to let go, for he'll "be a perfect man:" this, nevertheless, he could not well become without some further ceremony. #A# is the only version which has preserved an essentially correct process: Tam Lin, when a burning gleed, is to be thrown into well-water, from which he will step forth a naked knight.[331]

At stated periods, which the ballads make to be seven years, the fiend of hell is entitled to take his teind, tithe, or kane from the people of fairy-land: #A# 24, #B# 23, #C# 5, #D# 15, #G# 28, #H# 15. The fiend prefers those that are fair and fu o flesh, according to #A#, #G#; ane o flesh and blood, #D#. #H# makes the queen fear for herself; "the koors they hae gane round about, and I fear it will be mysel." #H# is not discordant with popular tradition elsewhere, which attributes to fairies the practice of abstracting young children to serve as substitutes for themselves in this tribute: Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 220, 1802. #D# 15 says "the last here goes to hell," which would certainly not be equitable, and #C# "we're a' dung down to hell," where "all" must be meant only of the naturalized members of the community. Poor Alison Pearson, who lost her life in 1586 for believing these things, testified that the tribute was annual. Mr William Sympson, who had been taken away by the fairies, "bidd her sign herself that she be not taken away, for the teind of them are tane to hell everie year:" Scott, as above, p. 208. The kindly queen of the fairies[332] will not allow Thomas of Erceldoune to be exposed to this peril, and hurries him back to earth the day before the fiend comes for his due. Thomas is in peculiar danger, for the reason given in #A#, #G#, #R#.

To morne of helle þe foulle fende
Amange this folke will feche his fee;
And þou art mekill man and hende;
I trowe full wele he wolde chese the.

The elf-queen, #A# 42, #B# 40, would have taken out Tam's twa gray een, had she known he was to be borrowed, and have put in twa een of tree, #B# 41, #D# 34, #E# 21, #H# 14; she would have taken out his heart of flesh, and have put in, #B#, #D#, #E#, a heart of stane, #H# of tree. The taking out of the eyes would probably be to deprive Tam of the faculty of recognizing fairy folk thereafter. Mortals whose eyes have been touched with fairies' salve can see them when they are to others invisible, and such persons, upon distinguishing and saluting fairies, have often had not simply this power but their ordinary eyesight taken away: see Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, p. 304, Thiele, Danmarks Folkesagn, 1843, II, 202, IV, etc. Grimm has given instances of witches, Slavic, German, Norse and Italian, taking out the heart of man (which they are wont to devour), and replacing it in some instances with straw, wood, or something of the kind; nor do the Roman witches appear to have been behind later ones in this dealing: Deutsche Mythologie, 904 f, and the note III, 312.

The fairy in the Lai de Lauval, v. 547, rides on a white palfrey, and also two damsels, her harbingers, v. 471; so the fairy princess in the English Launfal, Halliwell, Fairy Mythology, p. 30. The fairy king and all his knights and ladies ride on white steeds in King Orfeo, Halliwell, as above, p. 41. The queen of Elfland rides a milk-white steed in Thomas Rymer, #A#, #C#; in #B#, and all copies of Thomas of Erceldoune, her palfrey is dapple gray. Tam Lin, #A# 28, #B# 27, etc., is distinguished from all the rest of his "court" by being thus mounted; all the other horses are black or brown.

Tam Lane was taken by the fairies, according to #G# 26, 27, while sleeping under an apple-tree. In Sir Orfeo (ed. Zielke, v. 68) it was the queen's sleeping under an ympe-tree that led to her being carried off by the fairy king, and the ympe-tree we may suppose to be some kind of fruit tree, if not exclusively the apple. Thomas of Erceldoune is lying under a semely [derne, cumly] tree, when he sees the fairy queen. The derivation of that poem from Ogier le Danois shows that this must have been an apple-tree. Special trees are considered in Greece dangerous to lie under in summer and at noon, as exposing one to be taken by the nereids or fairies, especially plane, poplar, fig, nut, and St John's bread: Schmidt, Volksleben der Neugriechen, p. 119. The elder and the linden are favorites of the elves in Denmark.

The rencounter at the beginning between Tam Lin and Janet (in the wood, #D#, #F#, #G#) is repeated between Hind Etin [Young Akin] and Margaret in 'Hind Etin,' further on. Some Slavic ballads open in a similar way, but there is nothing noteworthy in that: see p. 41. "First they did call me Jack," etc., #D# 9, is a commonplace of frequent occurrence: see, e.g., 'The Knight and Shepherd's Daughter.'

Some humorous verses, excellent in their way, about one Tam o Lin are very well known: as Tam o the Linn, Chambers, Scottish Songs, p. 455, Popular Rhymes of Scotland, p. 33, ed. 1870; Sharpe's Ballads, new ed., p. 44, p. 137, No XVI; Tommy Linn, North Country Chorister, ed. Ritson, p. 3; Halliwell's Popular Rhymes and Nursery Tales, p. 271, ed. 1849; Thomas o Linn, Kinloch MSS, III, 45, V, 81; Tam o Lin, Campbell MSS., II, 107. (Miss Joanna Baillie tried her hand at an imitation, but the jocosity of the real thing is not feminine.) A fool sings this stanza from such a song in Wager's comedy, 'The longer thou livest, the more fool thou art,' put at about 1568; see Furnivall, Captain Cox, his Ballads and Books, p. cxxvii: