Chapter XXXI: Part 31

13
'But haste and haste, my gude white steed,
To come the maiden till,
Or a' the birds of gude green wood
Of your flesh shall have their fill.'

14
'Ye need na burst your gude white steed
Wi racing oer the howm;
Nae bird flies faster through the wood,
Than she fled through the broom.'

B

Herd, Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 310.

1
'I'll wager, I'll wager, I'll wager with you
Five hundred merks and ten,
That a maid shanae go to yon bonny green wood,
And a maiden return agen.'

2
'I'll wager, I'll wager, I'll wager with you
Five hundred merks and ten,
That a maid shall go to yon bonny green wood,
And a maiden return agen.'

* * * * * * *

3
She's pu'd the blooms aff the broom-bush,
And strewd them on 's white hass-bane:
'This is a sign whereby you may know
That a maiden was here, but she's gane.'

4
'O where was you, my good gray steed,
That I hae loed sae dear?
O why did you not awaken me
When my true love was here?'

5
'I stamped with my foot, master,
And gard my bridle ring,
But you wadnae waken from your sleep
Till your love was past and gane.'

6
'Now I may sing as dreary a sang
As the bird sung on the brier,
For my true love is far removd,
And I'll neer see her mair.'

C

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 291.

1
There was a knight and lady bright
Set trysts amo the broom,
The one to come at morning ear,
The other at afternoon.

2
'I'll wager a wager wi you,' he said,
'An hundred merks and ten,
That ye shall not go to Broomfield Hills,
Return a maiden again.'

3
'I'll wager a wager wi you,' she said,
'A hundred pounds and ten,
That I will gang to Broomfield Hills,
A maiden return again.'

4
The lady stands in her bower door,
And thus she made her mane:
'O shall I gang to Broomfield Hills,
Or shall I stay at hame?

5
'If I do gang to Broomfield Hills,
A maid I'll not return;
But if I stay from Broomfield Hills,
I'll be a maid mis-sworn.'

6
Then out it speaks an auld witch-wife,
Sat in the bower aboon:
'O ye shall gang to Broomfield Hills,
Ye shall not stay at hame.

7
'But when ye gang to Broomfield Hills,
Walk nine times round and round;
Down below a bonny burn bank,
Ye'll find your love sleeping sound.

8
'Ye'll pu the bloom frae aff the broom,
Strew 't at his head and feet,
And aye the thicker that ye do strew,
The sounder he will sleep.

9
'The broach that is on your napkin,
Put it on his breast bane,
To let him know, when he does wake,
That's true love's come and gane.

10
'The rings that are on your fingers,
Lay them down on a stane,
To let him know, when he does wake,
That's true love's come and gane.

11
'And when ye hae your work all done,
Ye'll gang to a bush o' broom,
And then you'll hear what he will say,
When he sees ye are gane.'

12
When she came to Broomfield Hills,
She walkd it nine times round,
And down below yon burn bank,
She found him sleeping sound.

13
She pu'd the bloom frae aff the broom,
Strew'd it at 's head and feet,
And aye the thicker that she strewd,
The sounder he did sleep.

14
The broach that was on her napkin,
She put on his breast bane,
To let him know, when he did wake,
His love was come and gane.

15
The rings that were on her fingers,
She laid upon a stane,
To let him know, when he did wake,
His love was come and gane.

16
Now when she had her work all dune,
She went to a bush o broom,
That she might hear what he did say,
When he saw she was gane.

17
'O where were ye, my guid grey hound,
That I paid for sae dear,
Ye didna waken me frae my sleep
When my true love was sae near?'

18
'I scraped wi my foot, master,
Till a' my collars rang,
But still the mair that I did scrape,
Waken woud ye nane.'

19
'Where were ye, my berry-brown steed,
That I paid for sae dear,
That ye woudna waken me out o my sleep
When my love was sae near?'

20
'I patted wi my foot, master,
Till a' my bridles rang,
But still the mair that I did patt,
Waken woud ye nane.'

21
'O where were ye, my gay goss-hawk,
That I paid for sae dear,
That ye woudna waken me out o my sleep
When ye saw my love near?'

22
'I flapped wi my wings, master,
Till a' my bells they rang,
But still the mair that I did flap,
Waken woud ye nane.'

23
'O where were ye, my merry young men,
That I pay meat and fee,
Ye woudna waken me out o' my sleep
When my love ye did see?'

24
'Ye'll sleep mair on the night, master,
And wake mair on the day;
Gae sooner down to Broomfield Hills
When ye've sic pranks to play.

25
'If I had seen any armed men
Come riding over the hill--
But I saw but a fair lady
Come quietly you until.'

26
'O wae mat worth you, my young men,
That I pay meat and fee,
That ye woudna waken me frae sleep
When ye my love did see.

27
'O had I waked when she was nigh,
And o her got my will,
I shoudna cared upon the morn
Tho sma birds o her were fill.'

28
When she went out, right bitter wept,
But singing came she hame;
Says, I hae been at Broomfield Hills,
And maid returnd again.

D

Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 195.

1
'I'll wager, I'll wager,' says Lord John,
'A hundred merks and ten,
That ye winna gae to the bonnie broom-fields,
And a maid return again.'

2
'But I'll lay a wager wi you, Lord John,
A' your merks oure again,
That I'll gae alane to the bonnie broom-fields,
And a maid return again.'

3
Then Lord John mounted his grey steed,
And his hound wi his bells sae bricht,
And swiftly he rade to the bonny broom-fields,
Wi his hawks, like a lord or knicht.

4
'Now rest, now rest, my bonnie grey steed,
My lady will soon be here,
And I'll lay my head aneath this rose sae red,
And the bonnie burn sae near.'

5
But sound, sound was the sleep he took,
For he slept till it was noon,
And his lady cam at day, left a taiken and away,
Gaed as licht as a glint o the moon.

6
She strawed the roses on the ground,
Threw her mantle on the brier,
And the belt around her middle sae jimp,
As a taiken that she'd been there.

7
The rustling leaves flew round his head,
And rousd him frae his dream;
He saw by the roses, and mantle sae green,
That his love had been there and was gane.

8
'O whare was ye, my gude grey steed,
That I coft ye sae dear,
That ye didna waken your master,
Whan ye kend that his love was here?'

9
'I pautit wi my foot, master,
Garrd a' my bridles ring,
And still I cried, Waken, gude master,
For now is the hour and time.'

10
'Then whare was ye, my bonnie grey hound,
That I coft ye sae dear,
That ye didna waken your master,
Whan ye kend that his love was here?'

11
'I pautit wi my foot, master,
Garrd a' my bells to ring,
And still I cried, Waken, gude master,
For now is the hour and time.'

12
'But whare was ye, my hawks, my hawks,
That I coft ye sae dear,
That ye didna waken your master,
Whan ye kend that his love was here?'

13
'O wyte na me, now, my master dear,
I garrd a' my young hawks sing,
And still I cried, Waken, gude master,
For now is the hour and time.'

14
'Then be it sae, my wager gane,
'T will skaith frae meikle ill,
For gif I had found her in bonnie broom-fields,
O her heart's blude ye'd drunken your fill.'

E

Joseph Robertson's Note-Book, January 1, 1830, p. 7.

1
'I'll wager, I'll wager wi you, fair maid,
Five hunder punds and ten,
That a maid winna gae to the bonnie green bower,
An a maid return back agen.'

2
'I'll wager, I'll wager wi you, kin' sir,
Five hunder punds and ten,
That a maid I'll gang to the bonnie green bower,
An a maid return again.'

3
But when she cam to the bonnie green bower,
Her true-love was fast asleep;
Sumtimes she kist his rosie, rosie lips,
An his breath was wondrous sweet.

4
Sometimes she went to the crown o his head,
Sometimes to the soles o his feet,
Sometimes she kist his rosie, rosie lips,
An his breath was wondrous sweet.

5
She's taen a ring frae her finger,
Laid it upon his breast-bane;
It was for a token that she had been there,
That she had been there, but was gane.

6
'Where was you, where was ye, my merrymen a',
That I do luve sae dear,
That ye didna waken me out o my sleep
When my true love was here?

7
'Where was ye, where was ye, my gay goshawk,
That I do luve sae dear,
That ye didna waken me out o my sleep
When my true love was here?'

8
'Wi my wings I flaw, kin' sir,
An wi my bill I sang,
But ye woudna waken out o yer sleep
Till your true love was gane.'

9
'Where was ye, my bonnie grey steed,
That I do luve sae dear,
That ye didna waken me out o my sleep
When my true love was here?'

10
'I stampit wi my fit, maister,
And made my bridle ring,
But ye wadna waken out o yer sleep,
Till your true love was gane.'

F

#a.# Douce Ballads, III, fol. 64b: Newcastle, printed and
sold by John White, in Pilgrim Street. #b.# Douce Ballads,
IV, fol. 10.

1
A noble young squire that livd in the west,
He courted a young lady gay,
And as he was merry, he put forth a jest,
A wager with her he would lay.

2
'A wager with me?' the young lady reply'd,
'I pray, about what must it be?
If I like the humour you shan't be deny'd;
I love to be merry and free.'

3
Quoth he, 'I will lay you an hundred pounds,
A hundred pounds, aye, and ten,
That a maid if you go to the merry broomfield,
That a maid you return not again.'

4
'I'll lay you that wager,' the lady she said,
Then the money she flung down amain;
'To the merry broomfield I'll go a pure maid,
The same I'll return home again.'

5
He coverd her bett in the midst of the hall
With an hundred and ten jolly pounds,
And then to his servant straightway he did call,
For to bring forth his hawk and his hounds.

6
A ready obedience the servant did yield,
And all was made ready oer night;
Next morning he went to the merry broomfield,
To meet with his love and delight.

7
Now when he came there, having waited a while,
Among the green broom down he lies;
The lady came to him, and coud not but smile,
For sleep then had closed his eyes.

8
Upon his right hand a gold ring she secur'd,
Down from her own finger so fair,
That when he awaked he might be assur'd
His lady and love had been there.

9
She left him a posie of pleasant perfume,
Then stept from the place where he lay;
Then hid herself close in the besom of the broom,
To hear what her true-love would say.

10
He wakend and found the gold ring on his hand,
Then sorrow of heart he was in:
'My love has been here, I do well understand,
And this wager I now shall not win.

11
'O where was you, my goodly gawshawk,
The which I have purchasd so dear?
Why did you not waken me out of my sleep
When the lady, my lover, was here?'

12
'O with my bells did I ring, master,
And eke with my feet did I run;
And still did I cry, Pray awake, master,
She's here now, and soon will be gone.'

13
'O where was you, my gallant greyhound,
Whose collar is flourishd with gold?
Why hadst thou not wakend me out of my sleep
When thou didst my lady behold?'

14
'Dear master, I barkd with my mouth when she came,
And likewise my coller I shook,
And told you that here was the beautiful dame,
But no notice of me then you took.'

15
'O where was thou, my serving-man,
Whom I have cloathed so fine?
If you had wak'd me when she was here,
The wager then had been mine.'

16
'In the night ye should have slept, master,
And kept awake in the day;
Had you not been sleeping when hither she came,
Then a maid she had not gone away.'

17 Then home he returnd, when the wager was lost,
With sorrow of heart, I may say;
The lady she laughd to find her love crost,--
This was upon midsummer-day.

18
'O squire, I laid in the bushes conceald,
And heard you when you did complain;
And thus I have been to the merry broomfield,
And a maid returnd back again.

19
'Be chearful, be chearful, and do not repine,
For now 't is as clear as the sun,
The money, the money, the money is mine,
The wager I fairly have won.'

* * * * *

#A. b.#

8^1. flower frae the bush.

8^3. a witter true.

9^2. I did love.

11^1. gray goshawk.

11^2. sae well.

11^3. When my love was here hersell.

12^4. Afore your true love gang.

13^3. in good.

14^{2-4}.

By running oer the howm;
Nae hare runs swifter oer the lea
Nor your love ran thro the broom.

#E#

_concludes with these stanzas, which do not belong to this
ballad_:

11
'Rise up, rise up, my bonnie grey cock,
And craw when it is day,
An your neck sall be o the beaten gowd,
And your wings o the silver lay.'

12
But the cock provd fauss, and untrue he was,
And he crew three hour ower seen,
The lassie thocht it day, and sent her love away,
An it was but a blink o the meen.

13
'If I had him but agen,' she says,
'O if I but had him agen,
The best grey cock that ever crew at morn
Should never bereave me o 's charms.'

#F. a.#

8^2. fingers.

11^1, 13^1. Oh.

15^2. I am.

#b.#

2^2. I pray you now, what.

3^1. Said he.

3^4. _omits_ That.

4^3. _omits_ pure.

4^4. And the ... back again.

5^2. ten good.

5^3. he strait.

5^4. _omits_ For.

6^1. his servants.

6^2. _omits_ made.

6^4. his joy.

7^4. sleep had fast.

8^2. finger.

9^3. in the midst.

9^4. what her lover.

10^1. Awaking he found.

10^2. of bearst.

10^3. _omits_ do.

11^3. wake.

11^4. and lover.

12^{1,2}. I did.

12^3. wake.

12^4. here and she.

13^3. Why did you not wake.

14^1. I barked aloud when.

14^3. that there was my.

15^2. I have.

15^3. when she had been here.

15^4. had been surely mine.

16^1. _omits_ should.

17^3. to see.

18^1. lay.

18^3. so I.

18^4. have returnd.

#b# _has no imprint._

[366] Furnivall, Captain Cox, his Ballads and Books, pp cxxvii f. Ritson cited the comedy in the dissertation prefixed to his Ancient Songs, 1790, p. lx.

[367] Motherwell remarks, at page 42 of his Introduction, "The song is popular still, and is often to be met with." It was printed in a cheap American song-book, which I have not been able to recover, under the title of 'The Green Broomfield,' and with some cis-atlantic variations. Graham's Illustrated Magazine, September, 1858, gives these stanzas:

"Then when she went to the green broom field,
Where her love was fast asleep,
With a gray _goose_-hawk and a green laurel bough,
And a green broom under his feet.

"And when he awoke from out his sleep,
An angry man was he;
He looked to the East, and he looked to the West,
And he wept for his sweetheart to see.

"Oh! where was you, my gray _goose_-hawk,
The hawk that I loved so dear,
That you did not awake me from out my sleep,
When my sweetheart was so near?"

[368] The broadside is also copied into Buchan's MSS, II, 197.

[369] The Anglo-Latin text in Harleian MS. 2270, No 48.

[370] Sy ... bereytte keyn abende das bette met der czöberye met der schryft und met des wylden mannes veddere, p. 145, lines 8, 10-12; das quam alles von der czoyberye, das die jungfrowe dy knaben alle beczobert hatte met schryft und met bryven, dy sy en under dy höbt leyte under dy kussen, und met den veddern von den wylden ruchen lüten, lines 1-5. Only _one_ letter and one feather is employed in each case.

[371] Svefnþorn, Danish søvntorn, or søvnpreen: blundstafir, sleep-staves, rods (if not letters, runes) in Sigrdrífumál, 2.

[372] The first stanza of the German ballad occurs in a music-book of 1622: Hoffmann u. Richter, p. 202, who add that the ballad is extant in Dutch and Flemish.

44

THE TWA MAGICIANS

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 24;
Motherwell's MS., p. 570.

A base-born cousin of a pretty ballad known over all Southern Europe, and elsewhere, and in especially graceful forms in France.

The French ballad generally begins with a young man's announcing that he has won a mistress, and intends to pay her a visit on Sunday, or to give her an _aubade_. She declines his visit, or his music. To avoid him she will turn, e. g., into a rose; then he will turn bee, and kiss her. She will turn quail; he sportsman, and bag her. She will turn carp; he angler, and catch her. She will turn hare; and he hound. She will turn nun; he priest, and confess her day and night. She will fall sick; he will watch with her, or be her doctor. She will become a star; he a cloud, and muffle her. She will die; he will turn earth, into which they will put her, or St Peter, and receive her into Paradise. In the end she says, Since you are inevitable, you may as well have me as another; or more complaisantly, Je me donnerai à toi, puisque tu m'aimes tant.

This ballad might probably be found anywhere in France, but most of the known versions are from south of the Loire. #A.# Romania, X, 390, E. Legrand, from Normandy; also known in Champagne. #B.# 'Les Transformations,' V. Smith, Vielles Chansons du Velay et du Forez, Romania, VII, 61 ff. #C.# Poésies populaires de la France, MS., III, fol. 233, Vienne. #D.# The same, II, fol. 39, Guéret, Creuse. #E, F.# The same volume, fol. 41, fol. 42. #G.# 'La maitresse gagnée,' the same volume, fol. 38: "on chante cette chanson sur les confines du département de l'Ain qui le séparent de la Savoie."[373] #H.# 'J'ai fait une maitresse,' Champfleury, Chansons populaires des Provinces, p. 90, Bourbonnais. #I.# 'Adiu, Margaridoto,' Bladé, Poésies pop. de la Gascogne, II, 361. #J.# Mélusine, col. 338 f, Carcasonne. #K.# Montel et Lambert, Chansons pop. du Languedoc, p. 544-51, and Revue des Langues romanes, XII, 261-67, four copies. #L.# 'Les Transfourmatiens,' Arbaud, II, 128. The Provençal ballad is introduced by Mistral into Mirèio, Chant III, as the song of Magali. #M.# 'La Poursuite d'Amour,' Marelle, in Archiv für das Studium der neueren Sprachen, LVI, 191. #N.# 'J'ai fait une maitresse,' Gagnon, Chansons populaires du Canada, p. 137, and Lovell, Recueil de Chansons canadiennes, 'Chanson de Voyageur,' p. 68. #O.# Gagnon, p. 78.

#Catalan.# Closely resembling the French: #A.# 'La Esquerpa,' Briz, Cansons de la Terra, I, 125. #B, C, D.# 'Las Transformaciones,' Milá, Romancerillo Catalan, p. 393, No 513.

#Italian.# Reduced to a _rispetto_, Tigri, Canti popolari toscani, ed. 1860, p. 241, No 861.

#Roumanian.# 'Cucul si Turturica,' Alecsandri, Poesiě populare ale Românilor, p. 7, No 3; French version, by the same, Ballades et Chants populaires, p. 35, No 7; Schuller, Romänische Volkslieder, p. 47. The cuckoo, or the lover under that style, asks the dove to be his mistress till Sunday. The dove, for his sake, would not say No, but because of his mother, who is a witch, if not let alone will change into a roll, and hide under the ashes. Then he will turn into a shovel, and get her out. She will turn into a reed, and hide in the pond. He will come as shepherd to find a reed for a flute, put her to his lips, and cover her with kisses. She will change to an image, and hide in the depths of the church. He will come every day in the week, as deacon or chorister, to kiss the images (a pious usage in those parts), and she will not thus escape him. Schuller refers to another version, in Schuster's unprinted collection, in which youth and maid carry on this contest in their proper persons, and not under figure.

#Ladin.# Flugi, Die Volkslieder des Engadin, p. 83, No 12. "Who is the younker that goes a-field ere dawn? Who is his love?" "A maid all too fair, with dowry small enough." "Maid, wilt give me a rose?" "No; my father has forbidden." "Wilt be my love?" "Rather a seed, and hide in the earth." "Then I will be a bird, and pick thee out," etc.

#Greek.# Tommaseo, III, 61, Passow, p. 431, No 574a. A girl tells her mother she will kill herself rather than accept the Turk: she will turn swallow, and take to the woods. The mother replies, Turn what you will, he will turn hunter, and take you from me. The same kernel of this ballad of transformations in Comparetti, Saggi dei Dialetti greci dell' Italia meridionale, p. 38, No 36, as M. Paul Meyer has remarked, Revue Critique, II, 302.

The ballad is well known to the Slavic nations.

#Moravian.# Čelakovský, p. 75, No 6, Wenzig, Slawische Volkslieder, p. 72, Bibliothek slavischer Poesien, p. 92. A youth threatens to carry off a maid for his wife. She will fly to the wood as a dove. He has a rifle that will bring her down. She will jump into the water as a fish. He has a net that will take the fish. She will turn to a hare; he to a dog; she cannot escape him.

#Polish.# Very common. #A a.# Wacław z Oleska, p. 417, No 287; Konopka, p. 124. A young man says, though he should ride night and day for it, ride his horse's eyes out, the maid must be his. She will turn to a bird, and take to the thicket. But carpenters have axes which can fell a wood. Then she will be a fish, and take to the water. But fishermen have nets which will find her. Then she will become a wild duck, and swim on the lake. Sportsmen have rifles to shoot ducks. Then she will be a star in the sky, and give light to the people. He has a feeling for the poor, and will bring the star down to the earth by his prayers. "I see," she says, "it's God's ordinance; whithersoever I betake myself, you are up with me; I will be yours after all." Nearly the same mutations in other versions, with some variety of introduction and arrangement. #A b.# Kolberg, Lud, VI, 129, No 257. #A c.# "Przyjaciel ludu, 1836, rok 2, No 34;" Lipiński, p. 135; Kolberg, Lud XII, 98, No 193. #B.# Pauli, Pieśńi ludu polskiego, I, 135. #C.# The same, p. 133. #D.# Kolberg, Lud, XII, 99, No 194. #E.# Lud, IV, 19, No 137. #F.# Lud, XII, 97, No 192. #G.# Lud, II, 134, No 161. #H.# Lud, VI, 130, No 258. #I.# Woicicki, I, 141, Waldbrühl, Slawische Balalaika, p. 433. #J. a, b.# Roger, p. 147, No 285, p. 148, No 286.

#Servian.# Karadshitch, I, 434, No 602; Talvj, II, 100; Kapper, II, 208; Pellegrini, p. 37. Rather than be her lover's, the maid will turn into a gold-jug in a drinking-house; he will be mine host. She will change into a cup in a coffee-house; he will be _cafetier_. She will become a quail, he a sportsman; a fish, he a net. Pellegrini has still another form, 'La fanciulla assediata,' p. 93. An old man desires a maid. She will rather turn into a lamb; he will turn into a wolf. She will become a quail; he a hawk. She will change into a rose; he into a goat, and tear off the rose from the tree.

There can be little doubt that these ballads are derived, or take their hint, from popular tales, in which (1) a youth and maid, pursued by a sorcerer, fiend, giant, ogre, are transformed by the magical powers of one or the other into such shapes as enable them to elude, and finally to escape, apprehension; or (2) a young fellow, who has been apprenticed to a sorcerer, fiend, etc., and has acquired the black art by surreptitious reading in his master's books, being pursued, as before, assumes a variety of forms, and his master others, adapted to the destruction of his intended victim, until the tables are turned by the fugitive's taking on the stronger figure and despatching his adversary.

Specimens of the first kind are afforded by Gonzenbach, Sicilianische Märchen, Nos 14, 15, 54, 55; Grimms, Nos 51, 56, 113; Schneller, No 27; Pitrè, Fiabe, Novelle e Racconti siciliani, No 15; Imbriani, Novellaja milanese, No 27, N. fiorentana, No 29; Maspons y Labrós, Rondallayre, I, 85, II, 30; Cosquin, Contes lorrains, in Romania, V, 354; Ralston's Russian Folk-Tales, p. 129 f, from Afanasief V, No 23; Bechstein, Märchenbuch, p. 75, ed. 1879, which combines both. Others in Köhler's note to Gonzenbach, No 14, at II, 214.

Of the second kind, among very many, are Straparola, viii, 5, see Grimms, III, 288, Louveau et Larivey, II, 152; Grimms, Nos 68, 117; Müllenhoff, No 27, p. 466; Pröhle, Märchen für die Jugend, No 26; Asbjørnsen og Moe, No 57; Grundtvig, Gamle danske Minder, 1854, Nos 255, 256; Hahn, Griechische Märchen, No 68; the Breton tale Koadalan, Luzel, in Revue Celtique, I, 106/107; the Schotts, Walachische Mærchen, No 18;[374] Woicicki, Klechdy, II, 26, No 4; Karadshitch, No 6; Afanasief, V, 95 f, No 22, VI, 189 ff, No 45 a, b, and other Russian and Little Russian versions, VIII, 340. Köhler adds several examples of one kind or the other in a note to Koadalan, Revue Celtique, I, 132, and Wollner Slavic parallels in a note to Leskien und Brugman, Litanische Volkslieder und Märchen, p. 537 f.

The usual course of events in these last is that the prentice takes refuge in one of many pomegranate kernels, barley-corns, poppy-seeds, millet-grains, pearls; the master becomes a cock, hen, sparrow, and picks up all of these but one, which turns into a fox, dog, weasel, crow, cat, hawk, vulture, that kills the bird.

The same story occurs in the Turkish Forty Viziers, Behrnauer, p. 195 ff, the last transformations being millet, cock, man, who tears off the cock's head. Also in the introduction to Siddhi-Kür, Jülg, pp 1-3, where there are seven masters instead of one, and the final changes are worms, instead of seeds, seven hens, a man with a cane who kills the hens.[375]

The pomegranate and cock (found in Straparola) are among the metamorphoses in the contest between the afrite and the princess in the tale of the Second Calender in the Arabian Nights.

Entirely similar is the pursuit of Gwion the pigmy by the goddess Koridgwen, cited by Villemarqué, Barzaz Breiz, p. lvi, ed. 1867, from the Myvyrian Archaiology of Wales, I, 17. Gwion having, by an accident, come to the knowledge of superhuman mysteries, Koridgwen wishes to take his life. He flees, and turns successively into a hare, fish, bird; she follows, in the form of hound, otter, hawk; finally he becomes a wheaten grain, she a hen, and swallows the grain.

The ordinary tale has found its way into rhyme in a German broadside ballad, Longard, Altrheinländische Mährlein und Liedlein, p. 76, No 40, 'Von einem gottlosen Zauberer und seiner unschuldigen Kindlein wunderbarer Erlösung.' The two children of an ungodly magician, a boy and a girl, are devoted by him to the devil. The boy had read in his father's books while his father was away. They flee, and are pursued: the girl becomes a pond, the boy a fish. The wicked wizard goes for a net. The boy pronounces a spell, by which the girl is turned into a chapel, and he into an image on the altar. The wizard, unable to get at the image, goes for fire. The boy changes the girl into a threshing-floor, himself into a barley-corn. The wizard becomes a hen, and is about to swallow the grain of barley. By another spell the boy changes himself into a fox, and then twists the hen's neck.

* * * * *

Translated by Gerhard, p. 18.

* * * * *

1
The lady stands in her bower door,
As straight as willow wand;
The blacksmith stood a little forebye,
Wi hammer in his hand.

2
'Weel may ye dress ye, lady fair,
Into your robes o red;
Before the morn at this same time,
I'll gain your maidenhead.'

3
'Awa, awa, ye coal-black smith,
Woud ye do me the wrang
To think to gain my maidenhead,
That I hae kept sae lang!'

4
Then she has hadden up her hand,
And she sware by the mold,
'I wudna be a blacksmith's wife
For the full o a chest o gold.

5
'I'd rather I were dead and gone,
And my body laid in grave,
Ere a rusty stock o coal-black smith
My maidenhead shoud have.'

6
But he has hadden up his hand,
And he sware by the mass,
'I'll cause ye be my light leman
For the hauf o that and less.'

O bide, lady, bide,
And aye he bade her bide;
The rusty smith your leman shall be,
For a' your muckle pride.

7
Then she became a turtle dow,
To fly up in the air,
And he became another dow,
And they flew pair and pair.
O bide, lady, bide, &c.

8
She turnd hersell into an eel,
To swim into yon burn,
And he became a speckled trout,
To gie the eel a turn.
O bide, lady, bide, &c.

9
Then she became a duck, a duck,
To puddle in a peel,
And he became a rose-kaimd drake,
To gie the duck a dreel.
O bide, lady, bide, &c.

10
She turnd hersell into a hare,
To rin upon yon hill,
And he became a gude grey-hound,
And boldly he did fill.
O bide, lady, bide, &c.

11
Then she became a gay grey mare,
And stood in yonder slack,
And he became a gilt saddle.
And sat upon her back.
Was she wae, he held her sae,
And still he bade her bide;
The rusty smith her leman was,
For a' her muckle pride.

12
Then she became a het girdle,
And he became a cake,
And a' the ways she turnd hersell,
The blacksmith was her make.
Was she wae, &c.

13
She turnd hersell into a ship,
To sail out ower the flood;
He ca'ed a nail intill her tail,
And syne the ship she stood.
Was she wae, &c.

14
Then she became a silken plaid,
And stretchd upon a bed,
And he became a green covering,
And gaind her maidenhead.
Was she wae, &c.

[373] There are two other versions in this great collection besides the five cited, but either I have overlooked these, or they are in Volume VI, not yet received.

[374] The Schotts are reminded by their story that Wade puts his son Weland in apprenticeship to Mimir Smith, and to the dwarfs. They might have noted that the devil, in the Wallachian tale, wishes to keep his prentice a second year, as the dwarfs wish to do in the case of Weland. That little trait comes, no doubt, from Weland's story; but we will not, therefore, conclude that our smith is Weland Smith, and his adventure with the lady founded upon that of Weland with Nidung's daughter.

[375] See Benfey, Pantschatantra, I, 410 f, who maintains the Mongol tale to be of Indian origin, and thinks the story to have been derived from the contests in magic between Buddhist and Brahman saints, of which many are related in Buddhist legends.

45

KING JOHN AND THE BISHOP

#A.# 'Kinge John and Bishoppe,' Percy MS., p. 184; Hales
and Furnivall, I, 508.

#B.# 'King John and the Abbot of Canterbury,' broadside
printed for P. Brooksby.

The broadside #B# was printed, with trifling variations, or corrections, in Pills to purge Melancholy, IV, 29 (1719), and in Old Ballads, II, 49 (1723). It is found in several of the collections: Pepys, II, 128, No 112; Roxburghe, III, 883; Ouvry, No 47; the Bagford; and it was among Heber's ballads. Brooksby published from 1672 to 1695, and #B# was "allowed" by Roger l'Estrange, who was licenser from 1663 to 1685: Chappell, The Roxburghe Ballads, I, xviii, xxiii. The title of #B# is A _new_ ballad of King John and the Abbot of Canterbury, to the tune of 'The King and the Lord Abbot.'[376] This older ballad seems not to have come down.

There are at least two other broadsides extant upon the same subject, both mentioned by Percy, and both inferior even to #B#, and in a far less popular style: 'The King and the Bishop,' Pepys, I, 472, No 243, Roxburghe, III, 170, Douce, fol. 110; and 'The Old Abbot and King Olfrey,' Douce, II, fol. 169, Pepys, II, 127, No 111, printed in Old Ballads, II, 55.[377] In both of these the Shepherd is the Bishop's brother, which he is not in #B#; in #A# he is half-brother. Pepys's Penny Merriments contain, I, 14, 'The pleasant History of King Henry the Eighth and the Abbot of Reading.'[378] This last may, without rashness, be assumed to be a variation of 'King John and the Abbot.'

Percy admitted 'King John and the Abbot' to his Reliques, II, 302, introducing many lines from #A# "worth reviving," and many improvements of his own,[379] and thus making undeniably a very good ballad out of a very poor one.

The story of this ballad was told in Scotland, some fifty years ago, of the Gudeman of Ballengeigh, James the V, the hero of not a few other tales. Once on a time, falling in with the priest of Markinch (near Falkland), and finding him a dullard, he gave the poor man four questions to think of till they next met, with an intimation that his benefice would be lost were they not rightly answered. The questions were those of our ballad, preceded by Where is the middle of the earth? The parson could make nothing of them, and was forced to resort to a miller of the neighborhood, who was reputed a clever fellow. When called to answer the first question, the miller put out his staff, and said, There, as your majesty will find by measuring. The others were dealt with as in the ballad. The king said that the miller should have the parson's place, but the miller begged off from this in favor of the incumbent. Small, Interesting Roman Antiquities recently discovered in Fife, p. 289 ff.

Riddle stories in which a forfeit is to be paid by a vanquished party have incidentally been referred to under No 1 and No 2. They are a very extensive class. The oldest example is that of Samson's riddle, with a stake of thirty sheets (or shirts) and thirty change of garments: Judges, xiv, 12 ff. Another from Semitic tradition is what is related of Solomon and Hiram of Tyre, in Josephus against Apion, i, 17, 18, and Antiquities, viii, 5. After the manner of Amasis and the Æthiopian king in Plutarch (see p. 13), they send one another riddles, with a heavy fine for failure,--in this case a pecuniary one. Solomon at first poses Hiram; then Hiram guesses Solomon's riddles, by the aid of Abdemon (or the son of Abdemon), and in turn poses Solomon with riddles devised by Abdemon.[380]

'Pá grönaliðheiði,' Landstad, p. 369, is a contest in riddles between two brothers (refreshingly original in some parts), introduced by three stanzas, in which it is agreed that the defeated party shall forfeit his share of their inheritance: and this the editor seems to take quite seriously.

Death is the penalty attending defeat in many of these wit-contests. Odin (Vafþrúðnismál), jealous of the giant Vafþrúðnir's wisdom, wishes to put it to test. He enters the giant's hall, assuming the name of Gagnráðr, and announces the object of his visit. The giant tells him he shall never go out again unless he prove the wiser, asks a few questions to see whether he be worth contending with, and, finding him so, proposes a decisive trial, with their heads for the stake. Odin now propounds, first, twelve questions, mostly in cosmogony, and then five relating to the future of the universe; and all these the giant is perfectly competent to answer. The very unfair question is then put, What did Odin say in his son's ear ere Balder mounted the funeral pile? Upon this Vafþrûðnir owns himself vanquished, and we may be sure he was not spared by his antagonist.

The Hervarar saga contains a story which, in its outlines, approximates to that of our ballad until we come to the conclusion, where there is no likeness. King Heiðrekr, after a long career of blood, gave up war and took to law-making. He chose his twelve wisest men for judges, and swore, with one hand on the head and the other on the bristles of a huge hog which he had reared, that no man should do such things that he should not get justice from these twelve, while any one who preferred might clear himself by giving the king riddles which he could not guess. There was a man named Gestr, and surnamed the Blind, a very bad and troublesome fellow, who had withheld from Heiðrekr tribute that was due. The king sent him word to come to him and submit to the judgment of the twelve: if he did not, the case would be tried with arms. Neither of these courses pleased Gestr, who was conscious of being very guilty: he took the resolution of making offerings to Odin for help. One night there was a knock. Gestr went to the door, and saw a man, who announced his name as Gestr. After mutual inquiries about the news, the stranger asked whether Gestr the Blind was not in trouble about something. Gestr the Blind explained his plight fully, and the stranger said, "I will go to the king and try what I can effect: we will exchange looks and clothes." The stranger, in the guise of Gestr, entered the king's hall, and said, Sire, I am come to make my peace. "Will you abide by the judgment of my men of law?" asked the king. "Are there not other ways?" inquired Gestr. "Yes: you shall give me riddles which I cannot guess, and so purchase your peace." Gestr assented, with feigned hesitation; chairs were brought, and everybody looked to hear something fine. Gestr gave, and Heiðrekr promptly answered, some thirty riddles.[381] Then said Gestr: Tell thou me this only, since thou thinkest to be wiser than all kings: What said Odin in Balder's ear before he was borne to the pile? "Shame and cowardice," exclaimed Heiðrekr, "and all manner of poltroonery, jugglery, goblinry! no one knows those words of thine save thou thyself, evil and wretched wight!" So saying, Heiðrekr drew Tyrfing, that never was bared but somebody must fall, to cut down Gestr. The disguised Odin changed to a hawk, and made for the window, but did not escape before Heiðrekr's sword had docked the bird's tail. For breaking his own truce Odin said Heiðrekr should die by the hand of a slave, which came to pass. Fornaldar Sögur, Rafn, I, 462 ff.

The same story has come down in a Färöe ballad, 'Gátu ríma,' Hammershaimb, Færöiske Kvæder, No 4, p. 26 (and previously published in the Antiquarisk Tidsskrift, 1849-51, pp 75-78), translated by Dr Prior, I, 336 ff. Gest promises Odin twelve gold marks to take his place. The riddles are announced as thirteen in number, but the ballad is slightly defective, and among others the last question, What were Odin's words to Balder? is lost. Odin flies off in the shape of a falcon; Hejdrek and all his men are burned up.

A tale presenting the essential traits of our ballad is cited in Vincent of Beauvais's Speculum Morale, i, 4, 10, at the end. We read, he says, of a king, who, seeking a handle for wrenching money out of a wealthy and wise man, put him three questions, apparently insoluble, intending to make him pay a large sum for not answering them: 1, Where is the middle point of the earth? 2, How much water is there in the sea? 3, How great is the mercy of God? On the appointed day, having been brought from prison into the presence to ransom himself if he could, the respondent, by the _advice of a certain philosopher_, proceeded thus. He planted his staff where he stood, and said, Here is the centre; disprove it if you can. If you wish me to measure the sea, stop the rivers, so that nothing may flow in till I have done; then I will give you the contents. To answer your third question, I must borrow your robes and your throne. Then mounting the throne, clothed with the royal insignia, "Behold," said he, "the height of the mercy of God: but now I was a slave, now I am a king; but now poor, and now rich; but now in prison and in chains, and now at liberty," etc.

Of the same stamp is a story in the English Gesta Romanorum, Madden, p. 55, No 19. A knight was accused to the emperor by his enemies, but not so as to give a plausible ground for steps against him. The emperor could hit upon no way but to put him questions, on pain of life and death. The questions were seven; the third and the sixth will suffice: How many gallons of salt water been in the sea? Answer: Let all the outpassings of fresh water be stopped, and I shall tell thee. How many days' journey beth in the circle of the world? Answer: Only the space of one day.

Much nearer to the ballad, and earlier than either of the preceding, is the Stricker's tale of Âmîs and the Bishop, in the Pfaffe Âmîs, dated at about 1236. Âmîs, a learned and bountiful priest in England, excited the envy of his bishop, who sent for him, told him that he lived in better style than his superior, and demanded a subvention. The priest flatly refused to give the bishop anything but a good dinner. "Then you shall lose your church," said the bishop in wrath. But the priest, strong in a good conscience, felt small concern about that: he said the bishop might test his fitness with any examination he pleased. That I will do, said the bishop, and gave him five questions. "How much is there in the sea?" "One tun," answered Âmîs; "and if you think I am not right, stop all the rivers that flow in, and I will measure it and convince you." "Let the rivers run," said the bishop. "How many days from Adam to our time?" "Seven," said the parson; "for as soon as seven are gone, they begin again." The bishop, fast losing his temper, next demanded "What is the exact middle of the earth? Tell me, or lose your church." "Why, my church stands on it," replied Âmîs. "Let your men measure, and take the church if it prove not so." The bishop declined the task, and asked once more: How far is it from earth to sky? and then: What is the width of the sky? to which Âmîs replied after the same fashion.

In this tale of the Stricker the parson answers for himself, and not by deputy, and none of the questions are those of our ballad. But in a tale of Franco Sacchetti,[382] given in two forms, Novella iv^a, we have both the abbot and his humble representative, and an agreement as to one of the questions. Bernabò Visconti († 1385) was offended with a rich abbot, who had neglected some dogs that had been entrusted to his care, and was minded to make the abbot pay him a fine; but so far yielded to the abbot's protest as to promise to release him from all penalties if he could answer four questions: How far is it from here to heaven? How much water is there in the sea? What is going on in hell? What is the value of my person? A day was given to get up the answers. The abbot went home, in the depths of melancholy, and met on the way one of his millers, who inquired what was the matter, and, after receiving an explanation, offered to take the abbot's place, disguising himself as well as he could. The answers to the two first questions are not the usual ones: huge numbers are given, and the seigneur is told to measure for himself, if not willing to accept them. The answer to the fourth is twenty-nine deniers; for our Lord was sold for thirty, and you must be worth one less than he. Messer Bernabò said the miller should be abbot, and the abbot miller, from that time forth. Sacchetti says that others tell the story of a pope and an abbot, adding one question. The gardener of the monastery presents the abbot, makes the usual answer to the second question as to the water in the sea, and prizes Christ's vicar at twenty-eight deniers.

The excellent old farce, "Ein Spil von einem Kaiser und eim Apt," Fastnachtspiele aus dem 15^n Jahrhundert, I, 199, No 22, obliges the abbot to answer three questions, or pay for all the damages done in the course of a calamitous invasion. The abbot has a week's grace allowed him. The questions are three: How much water in the sea? How much is the emperor worth? Whose luck came quickest? The miller answers for the abbot: Three tubs, if they are big enough; eight and twenty pence; and _he_ is the man whose luck came quickest, for just before he was a miller, now he is an abbot. The emperor says that, since the miller has acted for the abbot, abbot he shall be.

Very like this, as to the form of the story, is the anecdote in Pauli's Schimpf und Ernst, LV, p. 46, ed. Oesterley (c. 1522). A nobleman, who is seeking an occasion to quarrel with an abbot, tells him that he must answer these questions in three days, or be deposed: What do you value me at? Where is the middle of the world? How far apart are good and bad luck? A swineherd answers for him: Since Christ was sold for thirty pence, I rate the emperor at twenty-nine and you at twenty-eight; my church is the mid-point of the world, and, if you will not believe me, measure for yourself; good and bad luck are but one night apart, for yesterday I was a swineherd, to-day I am an abbot. Then, says the nobleman, an abbot shall you stay. With this agrees, say the Grimms, the tale in Eyring's Proverbiorum Copia (1601), I, 165-168, III, 23-25.

Waldis, Esopus (1548), B. 3, Fabel 92, Kurz, I, 382, agrees in general with Pauli: but in place of the first two questions has these three: How far is to heaven? How deep is the sea? How many tubs will hold all the sea-water? The answers are: A short day's journey, for Christ ascended in the morning and was in heaven before night; a stone's cast; one tub, if large enough.

Teofilo Folengo (1491-1544), as pointed out by Köhler, has the story in the 8th canto of his Orlandino; and here we find the third question of our ballad. There are three besides: How far from earth to heaven? From the east to the west?--a modification of the second question in the ballad; How many drops of water in the seas about Italy? The abbot's cook, Marcolf, answers to the first, One leap, as proved by Satan's fall; to the second, One day's journey, if the sun is to be trusted; and insists that, for a correct count under the third, all the rivers shall first be stopped. To the fourth he makes the never-stale reply, You _think_ I am the abbot, but I am the cook. Rainero says he shall remain abbot, and the abbot the cook. (Stanzas 38, 39, 64-69, pp 186 f, 195 ff, London edition of 1775.)

A capital Spanish story, 'Gramatica Parda, Trueba, Cuentos Populares, p. 287, has all three of the questions asked and answered as in our ballad. There is a curate who sets up to know everything, and the king, "el rey que rabió," has found him out, and gives him a month to make his three answers, with a premium and a penalty. The curate is forced to call in a despised goatherd, who also had all along seen through the shallowness of the priest. The king makes the goatherd "archipámpano" of Seville, and condemns the curate to wear the herdsman's garb and tend his goats for a month.[383]

The first and third questions of the ballad are found in the thirty-eighth tale of Le Grand Parangon des Nouvelles Nouvelles of Nicolas de Troyes, 1536 (ed. Mabille, p. 155 ff); in the Patrañuelo of Juan de Timoneda, 1576, Pat. 14, Novelistas anteriores á Cervantes, in the Rivadeneyra Biblioteca, p. 154 f; and in the Herzog Heinrich Julius von Braunschweig's comedy, Von einem Edelman welcher einem Abt drey Fragen auffgegeben, 1594, ed. Holland, p. 500 ff. The other question is as to the centre of the earth, and the usual answers are given by the abbot's miller, cook, servant, except that in Timoneda the cook is so rational as to say that the centre must be under the king's feet, seeing that the world is as round as a ball.[384] The question Where is the middle of the earth? is replaced by How many stars are there in the sky? the other two remaining, in Balthasar Schupp, Schriften, Franckfurt, 1701, I, 91 f (Köhler), and in Gottlieb Cober († 1717), Cabinet-prediger, 2^r Theil, No 65, p. 323 (Gräter, Idunna u. Hermode, 1814, No 33, p. 131, and p. 87). The abbot's miller gives a huge number, and bids the king (of France) verify it, if he wishes. This last is no doubt the version of the story referred to by the Grimms in their note to K. u. H. märchen, No 152.

We encounter a slight variation, not for the better, in L'Élite des Contes du Sieur d'Ouville († 1656 or 1657), Rouen, 1699, I, 241; à la Haye, 1703, I, 296; ed. Ristelhuber, 1876, p. 46 (Köhler); Nouveaux Contes à Rire, Cologne, 1709, p. 266; Contes à Rire, Paris, 1781, I, 184. An ignorant and violent nobleman threatens a parson, who plumes himself on a little astrology, that he will expose him as an impostor if he does not answer four questions: Where is the middle of the world? What am I worth? What am I thinking? What do I believe? The village miller answers for the curé. The reply to the third question is, You are thinking more of your own interest than of mine; the others as before. This story is retold, after tradition, by Cénac Moncaut, Contes populaires de la Gascogne, p. 50, of a marquis, archiprêtre, and miller. The query, What am I thinking of? with the answer, More of your interest than of mine (which is not exactly in the popular manner), is replaced by a logical puzzle, not found elsewhere: Quel est le nombre qui se trouve renfermé dans deux [oeufs]?