Chapter II: Act 3: , Scene 3, Dyce, VII, 364. The name Diverus is preserved in #C#, (1)

and F. S. L., who contributed this copy to Notes and Queries, had heard only Diverus, never Dives. Dr Rimbault, Notes and Queries, as above, p. 157, had never met with Diverus. Hone cites two stanzas, #a# 10, #b# 11, nearly, in his Ancient Mysteries, p. 95, and Sandys the last three stanzas, nearly as in #a#, in Notes and Queries, p. 157, as above. A copy in Bramley and Stainer's Christmas Carols, p. 85, seems to have been made up from Sylvester's and another copy. The few variations are probably arbitrary.

The subject could not escape the popular muse: e. g., Socard, Noëls et Cantiques imprimés à Troyes, Histoire de Lazare et du Mauvais Riche, p. 118 ff; 'El mal rico,' Milá, Romancerillo, p. 16, No 16, #A-F#; 'Lazarus,' Des Dülkener Fiedlers Liederbuch, p. 53, No 63; 'Lazar a bohatec,' Sušil, Moravské Národní Písnĕ, p. 19, No 18, Wenzig, Bibliothek Slavischer Poesien, p. 114; Bezsonof, Kalyeki Perekhozhie, I, 43-97, Nos 19-27.

There is a very beautiful ballad, in which the Madonna takes the place of Lazarus, in Roadside Songs of Tuscany, Francesca Alexander and John Ruskin, 'La Madonna e il Riccone,' p. 82.

A

#a.# Sylvester, A Garland of Christmas Carols, p. 50,
from an old Birmingham broadside. #b.# Husk, Songs of the
Nativity, p. 94, from a Worcestershire broadside of the
last century.

1
As it fell out upon a day,
Rich Dives he made a feast,
And he invited all his friends,
And gentry of the best.

2
Then Lazarus laid him down and down,
And down at Dives' door:
'Some meat, some drink, brother Dives,
Bestow upon the poor.'

3
'Thou art none of my brother, Lazarus,
That lies begging at my door;
No meat nor drink will I give thee,
Nor bestow upon the poor.'

4
Then Lazarus laid him down and down,
And down at Dives's wall:
'Some meat, some drink, brother Dives,
Or with hunger starve I shall.'

5
'Thou art none of my brother, Lazarus,
That lies begging at my wall;
No meat nor drink will I give thee,
But with hunger starve you shall.'

6
Then Lazarus laid him down and down,
And down at Dives's gate:
'Some meat, some drink, brother Dives,
For Jesus Christ his sake.'

7
'Thou art none of my brother, Lazarus,
That lies begging at my gate;
No meat nor drink will I give thee,
For Jesus Christ his sake.'

8
Then Dives sent out his merry men,
To whip poor Lazarus away;
They had no power to strike a stroke,
But flung their whips away.

9
Then Dives sent out his hungry dogs,
To bite him as he lay;
They had no power to bite at all,
But licked his sores away.

10
As it fell out upon a day,
Poor Lazarus sickened and died;
Then came two angels out of heaven
His soul therein to guide.

11
'Rise up, rise up, brother Lazarus,
And go along with me;
For you've a place prepared in heaven,
To sit on an angel's knee.'

12
As it fell out upon a day,
Rich Dives sickened and died;
Then came two serpents out of hell,
His soul therein to guide.

13
'Rise up, rise up, brother Dives,
And go with us to see
A dismal place, prepared in hell,
From which thou canst not flee.'

14
Then Dives looked up with his eyes,
And saw poor Lazarus blest:
'Give me one drop of water, brother Lazarus,
To quench my flaming thirst.

15
'Oh had I as many years to abide
As there are blades of grass,
Then there would be an end, but now
Hell's pains will ne'er be past.

16
'Oh was I now but alive again,
The space of one half hour!
Oh that I had my peace secure!
Then the devil should have no power.'

B

From memory, as sung by carol-singers at Christmas, in
Worcestershire, at Hagley and Hartlebury, 1829-39: F. S.
L., in Notes and Queries, Fourth Series, III, 76.

1
As it fell out upon one day,
Rich Diverus he made a feast,
And he invited all his friends,
And gentry of the best.

2
And it fell out upon one day,
Poor Lazarus he was so poor,
He came and laid him down and down,
Evn down at Diverus' door.

3
So Lazarus laid him down and down
Even down at Diverus' door:
'Some meat, some drink, brother Diverus,
Do bestow upon the poor.'

4
'Thou art none of mine, brother Lazarus,
Lying begging at my door:
No meat, no drink will I give thee,
Nor bestow upon the poor.'

5
Then Lazarus laid him down and down,
Even down at Diverus' wall:
'Some meat, some drink, brother Diverus,
Or surely starve I shall.

6
'Thou art none of mine, brother Lazarus,
Lying begging at my wall;
No meat, no drink will I give thee,
And therefore starve thou shall.'

7
Then Lazarus laid him down and down,
Even down at Diverus' gate:
'Some meat, some drink, brother Diverus,
For Jesus Christ his sake.'

8
'Thou art none of mine, brother Lazarus,
Lying begging at my gate;
No meat, no drink will I give thee,
For Jesus Christ his sake.

9
Then Diverus sent out his merry men all,
To whip poor Lazarus away;
They had not power to whip one whip,
But threw their whips away.

10
Then Diverus sent out his hungry dogs,
To bite poor Lazarus away;
They had not power to bite one bite,
But licked his sores away.

11
And it fell out upon one day,
Poor Lazarus he sickened and died;
There came two angels out of heaven,
His soul thereto to guide.

12
'Rise up, rise up, brother Lazarus,
And come along with me;
There is a place prepared in heaven,
For to sit upon an angel's knee.'

13
And it fell out upon one day
Rich Diverus he sickened and died;
There came two serpents out of hell,
His soul thereto to guide.

14
'Rise up, rise up, brother Diverus,
And come along with me;
There is a place prepared in hell,
For to sit upon a serpent's knee.'

* * * * *

#A. a.#

_14-16. There are only these trifling variations in the
stanzas cited by Sandys:_

16^2. of an.

16^3. I'd made my peace.

#b.#

1^3. his guests.

7^3. I'll give to thee.

8^3. But they.

8^4. And flung.

9^3. But they.

9^4. So licked.

10^3. came an angel.

10^4. there for.

11^2. come along.

11^3. For there's a place in heaven provided.

12^3. There came a serpent.

12^4. there for.

13^{2-4}.
And come along with me,
For there's a place in hell provided
To sit on a serpent's knee.

14^1. lifting his eyes to heaven.

14^2. And seeing.

15^{3, 4}.
Then there would be an ending day,
But in hell I must ever last.

16^{3, 4}.
I would make my will and then secure
That the.

#B.#

_13, 14 differ but slightly in Hone:_

13^1. As it.

13^2. Rich Dives.

13^4. therein.

14^1. Dives.

14^3. For you've a place provided.

14^4. To sit.

57

BROWN ROBYN´S CONFESSION

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 110.
Motherwell's MS., p. 580.

The only known version of 'Brown Robyn's Confession' is the one printed in Ballads of the North of Scotland, the copy in Motherwell's MS. having been derived from Buchan.

The ballad, as we have it in English, celebrates a miracle of the Virgin, and is our only example of that extensive class of legends, unless we choose to include 'The Jew's Daughter,' and to take Robin Hood's view of the restoration of his loan, in the fourth Fit of the Little Gest. Of rescues on the sea, by which Mary "vere maris stella indiciis evidentissimis comprobatur," we have two in most of the collections of the Virgin's miracles, e. g., Vincent of Beauvais, 1. VII, cc 88,89, Gautier de Coincy, ed. Poquet, pp 515, 605. The deliverance, however, _is_ for honor done to Mary, and _not_ for a fair confession.

A fine ballad, very common in Sweden, and preserved by tradition also in Denmark and Norway, has the same story with a tragical termination for the hero, saving a single instance, in which there is also a supernatural interference in his behalf.

#Swedish.# 'Herr Peders Sjöresa.' #A#, Afzelius, II, 31, No 36, new ed. No 30, from oral traditions, compared with a printed copy of the date 1787. #B#, Atterbom's Poetisk Kalender, 1816, p. 52, apparently from Gyllenmärs' Visbok, after which it is given by Bergström, Afzelius, II, 158. #C#, Arwidsson, II, 5, No 67, one of three closely resembling copies. #D#, 'Herr Peder,' Wigström, Folkdiktning, I, 43, No 21. #E#, Fagerlund, p. 194, No 4. #F#, #G#, Aminson, IV, 20, 22.

#Norwegian.# 'Unge herr Peder pá sjöen,' Landstad, p. 617, No 82.

#Danish.# #A#, manuscript of the fifteenth century, in a copy communicated by Professor Grundtvig. #B#, 'Jon Rimaardssøns Skriftemaal,' Vedel, 1591, It Hundrede udvaalde Danske Viser, p. 3, No 2 (Bergström); Danske Viser, II, 220, No 92. #C#, 'Lodkastningen,' Kristensen, I, 16, No 6. #D#, 'Sejladsen,' the same, p. 322, No 119.

Swedish #C-E#, the Norwegian version, Danish #C#, #D#, are all from recent oral tradition.

With a partial exception of Danish #A#, #B#,[10] the story of these ballads is this. Sir Peter asks his foster-mother what death he shall die. You are not to die in your bed, she says, and not in fight, but beware of the waves. Peter cares not for the waves, and builds a splendid ship, the hulk and masts of whalebone (elm, Swedish #D#; walnut, Norwegian, Danish #D#), the flags of gold (oars, Danish #A#). Let us drink to-day, while we have ale, says Peter; to-morrow we will sail where gain shall guide. The skipper and helmsman push off, forgetful of God the Father, God's Son, and the Holy Ghost. They sail a year or two on the boiling sea, and when they come where water is deepest the masts begin to go, Swedish #A#; the ship stops, Swedish #C#, #D#, #F#, Norwegian, Danish #A#, #C#, #D#;[11] will not mind her helm, Danish #B#. They cast lots to see who is the sinner; the skipper and captain do this while Peter is in his cabin sleeping,[12] in Swedish #D#, Norwegian, Danish #C#, #D#. The lot falls on Peter. He makes his shrift, since there is no priest, before the mast (which, with the yard, forms a cross), Swedish #A#, #B#, Norwegian, Danish #B#, #C#; before an oar, on which Our Lord stands written, Danish #A#. "Churches have I plundered, and convents have I burned, and stained the honor of many a noble maid. I have roamed the woods and done both robbery and murder, and many an honest peasant's son buried alive in the earth:" Swedish #A#. He then says his last words, Danish #C#, #D#, and nearly all.

'If any of you should get back to land,
And my foster-mother ask for me,
Tell her I'm serving in the king's court,
And living right merrily.

'If any of you should get back to land,
And my true-love ask for me,
Bid her to marry another man,
For I am under the sea.'[13]

In Swedish #C#, #D#, Danish #C#, they throw Peter over, on the larboard in the first, and the ship resumes her course; in Swedish #D#, #F#, he wraps a cloak round him and jumps in himself; in Swedish #A# the ship goes down. In Danish #B# Jon Rimaardssøn binds three bags about him, saying, He shall never die poor that will bury my body.[14] It was a sad sight to see when he made a cross on the blue wave, and so took the wild path that lay to the sea's deep bottom. Sir Peter, in Danish #A#, made this cross and was ready to take this path; but when he reached the water the wild sea turned to green earth.

Sir Peter took horse, the ship held her course,
So glad they coasted the strand;
And very glad was his true-love too
That he had come to land.[15]

No explanation is offered of this marvel. In the light of the Scottish ballad, we should suppose that Sir Peter's deliverance in Danish #A# was all for the fair confession he made upon the sea.[16]

Saxo relates that, in the earlier part of Thorkill's marvellous voyage, the crews of his three ships, when reduced almost to starving, coming upon an island well stocked with herds, would not heed the warning of their commander, that if they took more than sufficed to mitigate their immediate sufferings they might be estopped from proceeding by the local divinities, but loaded the vessels with carcasses. During the night which followed, the ships were beset by a crowd of monsters, the biggest of whom advanced into the water, armed with a huge club, and called out to the seafarers that they would not be allowed to sail off till they had expiated the offence they had committed by delivering up one man for each ship. Thorkill, for the general safety, surrendered three men, selected by lot, after which they had a good wind and sailed on. Book VIII; p. 161, ed. 1644.

King Half on his way home from a warlike expedition encountered so violent a storm that his ship was nigh to foundering. A resolution was taken that lots should be cast to determine who should jump overboard. But no lots were needed, says the saga (implying, by the way, that a vicarious atonement was sufficient), for the men vied with one another who should go overboard for his comrade. Fornaldar Sögur, Rafn, II, 37 f.[17]

A very pretty Little-Russian _duma_, or ballad, also shows the efficacy of confession in such a crisis: 'The Storm on the Black Sea,' Maksimovitch, Songs of Ukraine, p. 14, Moscow, 1834, p. 48, Kief, 1849; translated by Bodenstedt, Die poetische Ukraine, p. 118. The Cossack flotilla has been divided by a storm on the Black Sea, and two portions of it have gone to wreck. In the third sails the hetman. He walks his deck in sombre composure, and says to the sailors, Some offence has been done, and this makes the sea so wild: confess then your sins to God, to the Black Sea, and to me your hetman; the guilty man shall die, and the fleet of the Cossacks not perish. The Cossacks stand silent, for no one knows who is guilty, when lo, Alexis, son of the priest of Piriatin, steps forth and says, Let me be the sacrifice; bind a cloth round my eyes, a stone about my neck, and throw me in; so shall the fleet of the Cossacks not perish. The men are astounded: how can a heavy sin be resting on Alexis, who reads them the sacred books, whose example has kept them from wickedness! Alexis left home, he says, without asking his father's and mother's blessing, and with an angry threat against his brother; he wrenched the last crust of bread from his neighbors; he rode along the street wantonly spurning the breasts of women and the foreheads of children; he passed churches without uncovering, without crossing himself: and now he must die for his sins. As he makes this shrift the storm begins to abate; to the amazement of the Cossacks, the fleet is saved, and not one man drowned.

The rich merchant Sadko, the very entertaining hero of several Russian popular epics, is nowhere more entertaining than when, during one of his voyages, his ship comes to a stop in the sea. He thinks he has run upon a rock or sand-bank, and tries to push off, but the vessel is immovable. Twelve years we have been sailing, says Sadko, and never paid tribute to the king of the sea. A box of gold is thrown in as a peace-offering, but floats like a duck. It is clear that the sea-king wants no toll; he requires a man. Every man is ordered to make a lot from pine-wood and write his name on it. These lots are thrown into the sea. Every one of them swims like a duck but Sadko's, and his goes down like a stone. That is not the proper wood for a lot, says Sadko: make lots of fir-wood. Fir lots are tried: Sadko's goes down like a stone, the rest swim like ducks. Fir is not right, either; alder, oak, are tried with the same result. We are quite wrong, says Sadko; we must take cypress, for cypress was the wood of the cross. They try cypress, and still Sadko's lot sinks, while all the others float. I am the man, says Sadko. He orders his men to get for him an oblation of silver, gold, and pearls, and with this, taking an image of St Nicholas in one hand and his gusli in the other, commits himself to the sea, and goes down like a stone. But not to drown. It was quite worth his while for the rare adventures that followed.[18]

The casting of lots to find out the guilty man who causes trouble to a ship occurs in William Guiseman, Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 156, Kinloch MSS, V, 43, a copy, improved by tradition, of the "lament" in 'William Grismond's Downfal,' a broadside of 1650, which is transcribed among the Percy papers, from Ballard's collection.

Captain Glen is thrown overboard without a lot, on the accusation of the boatswain, and with the happiest effect; broadside in the Roxburghe collection, Logan's Pedlar's Pack, p. 47, Kinloch MSS, V, 278.

* * * * *

Translated by Gerhard, p. 66, Knortz, L. u. R. Altenglands, p. 155, No 40. Swedish #A# by the Howitts, Literature and Romance of Northern Europe, I, 276; Danish #B# by Prior, II, 227.

1
It fell upon a Wodensday
Brown Robyn's men went to sea,
But they saw neither moon nor sun,
Nor starlight wi their ee.

2
'We'll cast kevels us amang,
See wha the unhappy man may be;'
The kevel fell on Brown Robyn,
The master-man was he.

3
'It is nae wonder,' said Brown Robyn,
'Altho I dinna thrive,
For wi my mither I had twa bairns,
And wi my sister five.

4
'But tie me to a plank o wude,
And throw me in the sea;
And if I sink, ye may bid me sink,
But if I swim, just lat me bee.'

5
They've tyed him to a plank o wude,
And thrown him in the sea;
He didna sink, tho they bade him sink;
He swimd, and they bade lat him bee.

6
He hadna been into the sea
An hour but barely three,
Till by it came Our Blessed Lady,
Her dear young son her wi.

7
'Will ye gang to your men again,
Or will ye gang wi me?
Will ye gang to the high heavens,
Wi my dear son and me?'

8
'I winna gang to my men again,
For they would be feared at mee;
But I woud gang to the high heavens,
Wi thy dear son and thee.'

9
'It's for nae honour ye did to me, Brown Robyn,
It's for nae guid ye did to mee;
But a' is for your fair confession
You've made upon the sea.'

* * * * *

4^4. if I sink.

[10] Danish #B# begins very like 'Sir Patrick Spens.' A skeely skipper Haagen eyes the sky and tells his master that any one who sails to-day will never come back alive, etc.

[11] In Danish #A# the ship is stopped by a sea-troll that lay on the bottom. The helmsman crying out, Why does not the ship sail? the troll replies, You have a sinful man among you; throw him over. It certainly looks officious of a heathen troll to be arresting sinners. See also 'Germand Gladensvend, Grundtvig, No 33, and the corresponding 'Sætrölls kvæði,' Íslenzk fornkvæði, No 5.

Hysmine is selected by lot and thrown over, in a storm, "according to sailor's custom," in the Greek romance of Hysmine and Hysminias, VII, 12, 15.

Serpents (nâgas) stop a ship in mid ocean and demand that a certain holy man whose instructions they desire shall be delivered to them; when the holy man has thrown himself in, the vessel is free to move: Burnouf, Introduction à l'Histoire du Buddhisme indien, p. 316 f. (Rambaud, La Russie Épique, pp 175 f, 178 f.)

[12] A resemblance to Jonah, but a circumstance not unlikely to be found in any such story. In Danish #C#, Kristensen, I, 16, after the skipper and steersman have informed Peter that he is to be thrown overboard, they suggest the confession which he elsewhere makes unprompted. So Joshua to Achan, Joshua vii, 19, and Saul to Jonathan, 1 Samuel xiv, 43, in a similar emergency.

[13] These touching verses, which are of a kind found elsewhere in ballads (see 'The Twa Brothers,' I, 436 f), are preceded by a vow in Swedish #A#, and the same vow ends Swedish #E#:

'And if God would but help me,
That I might come to some land,
So surely would I build a church
All on the snow-white sand.

'And if I might but come to some town,
And God would so much stead,
So surely would I build a church,
And roof it over with lead.'

Slavic examples of these affecting messages are found in Roger, No 141, p. 80==Konopka, No 14, p. 114; Woicicki, Pieśńi, I, 76, II, 328, W. z Oleska, p. 507, No 27; Zegota Pauli, P. l. polskiego, p. 97, No 9, Lipiński, p. 90, No 47; Kolberg, No 16, pp 196-205, #c#, #d#, #l#, #m#, #p#, #s#, #x#; Kozlowski, p. 43, No 8; Sakarof, Pyesni, IV, 8. See also 'Mary Hamilton,' further on.

[14] Lord Howard throws Sir Andrew Barton's body over the hatchbord into the sea,

And about his middle three hundred crowns;
'Wherever thou land, this will bury thee!'

[15]

Herre Peder han red, og skibet det skred,
De fulgte så glade hit strand;
Så glad da var hans fæstemø
At han var kommen til land.

[16] The importance of confession for the soul's welfare is recognized by Jon Rimaardssøn.

'Now would I render thanks for his grace
To bountiful Christ in heaven,
For in great peril my soul had been
Had I gone hence unshriven.'

[17] Cited by Dr Prior, Ancient Danish Ballads, II, 227, as also Saxo.

[18] Rybnikof, Pěsni, III, 241-48, No 41, reprinted in Kiryeevski, V, 34-41. Other versions in Rybnikof, I, 363-80, Nos 61-64, III, 248 f, No 42; Hilferding, Onezhskiya Byliny, No 70, coll 384-99, No 146, coll 738-40, No 174, coll 877-80; Kirsha Danilof, ed. Kalaidovitch, 1878, No 26, pp 182-87, Kiryeevski, V, 47-55, and No 44, pp 234-39, Kiryeevski, V, 41-47. (I owe this note to Dr Theodor Vetter.) There is much variety in the details, as might be expected. In Kirsha Danilof, No 44, Sadko's lot is a feather, the others of cork. He whose lot floats is a righteous soul; he whose lot sinks is to be thrown overboard. All the lots swim like ducks but Sadko's. Now make lots out of twigs, says Sadko, and he whose lot sinks is a righteous soul. Sadko's lot is some forty pounds of metal, and his the only one that floats.

58

SIR PATRICK SPENS

#A. a.# 'Sir Patrick Spence,' Percy's Reliques, 1765, I,
71. #b.# 'Sir Andrew Wood,' Herd's Scots Songs, 1769, p.
243. 11 stanzas.

#B.# 'Sir Patrick Spence,' Herd's MSS, II, 27, I, 49. 16
stanzas.

#C.# 'Sir Patrick Spens,' Motherwell's MS., p. 493. 20
stanzas.

#D.# 'Sir Andro Wood,' Motherwell's MS., p. 496. 8
stanzas.

#E.# 'Young Patrick,' Motherwell's MS., p. 348. 16
stanzas.

#F.# 'Skipper Patrick,' Motherwell's MS., p. 153. 14
stanzas.

#G.# 'Sir Patrick Spence,' Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I,
157. 17 stanzas.

#H.# 'Sir Patrick Spens,' Scott's Minstrelsy, III, 64,
ed. 1803. 29 stanzas.

#I.# 'Sir Patrick Spens,' Buchan's Ballads of the North
of Scotland, I, 1; Motherwell's MS., p. 550. 29 stanzas.

#J.# 'Sir Patrick Spens,' Harris MS., fol. 4. 24 stanzas.

#K.# 'Sir Patrick Spens,' communicated by Mr Murison. 14
stanzas.

#L.# 'Sir Patrick,' Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 6,
Motherwell's MS., p. 156. 5 stanzas.

#M.# Buchan's Gleanings, p. 196. 4 stanzas.

#N.# 'Earl Patricke Spensse,' Dr J. Robertson's
Adversaria, p. 67. 4 stanzas.

#O.# 'Sir Patrick Spens,' Gibb MS., p. 63. 3 stanzas.

#P.# 'Earl Patrick Graham,' Kinloch MSS, I, 281. 4
stanzas.

#Q.# Finlay's Scottish Ballads, I, xiv. 2 stanzas.

#R.# 'Sir Patrick Spence,' communicated by Mr Macmath. 1
stanza.

Stanzas of #E# and of #L#, a little altered, are given by Motherwell in his Introduction, pp xlv, xlvi. The ballad in the Border Minstrelsy, #H#, was made up from two versions, the better of which was #G#, and five stanzas, 16-20, recited by Mr Hamilton, sheriff of Lanarkshire. Mr Hamilton is said to have got his fragment "from an old nurse, a retainer of the Gilkerscleugh family," when himself a boy, about the middle of the last century.[19] The copy in Finlay's Scottish Ballads, I, 49, is Scott's, with the last stanza exchanged for the last of #A#, and one or two trifling changes. The imperfect copies #K#, stanzas 6-10, #M# 1, 3, show admixture with the more modern ballad of 'Young Allan.' #L# 1, with variations, is found in 'Fair Annie of Lochroyan,' Herd, 1776, I, 150, and may not belong here. But ballad-ships are wont to be of equal splendor with Cleopatra's galley: see, for a first-rate, the Scandinavian 'Sir Peter's Voyage,' cited in the preface to 'Brown Robyn's Confession.'[20]

This admired and most admirable ballad is one of many which were first made known to the world through Percy's Reliques. Percy's version remains, poetically, the best. It may be a fragment, but the imagination easily supplies all that may be wanting; and if more of the story, or the whole, be told in #H#, the half is better than the whole.

The short and simple story in #A-F# is that the king wants a good sailor to take command of a ship or ships ready for sea. Sir Patrick Spens[21] is recommended, and the king sends him a commission. This good sailor is much elated by receiving a letter from the king, but the contents prove very unwelcome.[22] He would hang the man that praised his seamanship, if he knew him, #B#; though it had been the queen herself, she might have let it be, #F#; had he been a better man, he might ha tauld a lee, #D#. The objection, as we learn from #A# 5, #C# 5, is the bad time of year. Percy cites a law of James III, forbidding ships to be freighted out of the realm with staple goods between the feast of Simon and Jude and Candlemas, October 28-February 2. There is neither choice nor thought, but prompt obedience to orders. The ship must sail the morn, and this without regard to the fearful portent of the new moon having been seen _late_ yestreen with the auld moon in her arm. They are only a few leagues out when a furious storm sets in. The captain calls for a boy to take the steer in hand while he goes to the topmast to spy land, #B#; or, more sensibly, sends up the boy, and sticks to the rudder, #C#, #E#. The report is not encouraging, or is not waited for, for the sea has everything its own way, and now the nobles, who were loath to wet their shoes, are overhead in water, and now fifty fathoms under. It would be hard to point out in ballad poetry, or other, happier and more refined touches than the two stanzas in #A# which portray the bootless waiting of the ladies for the return of the seafarers.[23]

In #G-J# we meet with additional circumstances. The destination of the ship is Norway. The object of the voyage is not told in #G#; in #H# it is to bring home the king of Norway's daughter; in #J# to bring home the Scottish king's daughter; in #I# to take out the Scottish king's daughter to Norway, where she is to be queen. The Scots make the passage in two days, or three, #G#, #H#, #I#. After a time the Norwegians begin to complain of the expense caused by their guests, #G#, #H#; or reproach the Scots with staying too long, to their own king's cost, #I#. Sir Patrick tells them that he brought money enough to pay for himself and his men, and says that nothing shall induce him to stay another day in the country. It is now that we have the omen of the new moon with the old moon in her arm, in #G#, #H#. In #I# this comes before the voyage to Norway,[24] and in #G# the stanza expressing apprehension of a storm, without the reason, occurs twice,[25] before the voyage out as well as before the return voyage. In #J#, as in #A-F#, the ship is lost on the voyage out. In #G#, therefore, and #I# as well, two different accounts may have been blended.

Whether there is an historical basis for the shipwreck of Scottish nobles which this ballad sings, and, if so, where it is to be found, are questions that have been considerably discussed. A strict accordance with history should not be expected, and indeed would be almost a ground of suspicion.[26] Ballad singers and their hearers would be as indifferent to the facts as the readers of ballads are now; it is only editors who feel bound to look closely into such matters. Motherwell has suggested a sufficiently plausible foundation. Margaret, daughter of Alexander III, was married, in 1281, to Eric, King of Norway. She was conducted to her husband, "brought home," in August of that year, by many knights and nobles. Many of these were drowned on the return voyage,[27] as Sir Patrick Spens is in #G#, #H#, #I#.

Margaret, Eric's queen, died in 1283, leaving a newly born daughter; and Alexander III, having been killed by being thrown from his horse, in 1286, the crown fell to the granddaughter. A match was proposed between the infant Margaret, called the Maid of Norway, and the eldest son of Edward I of England. A deputation, not so splendid as the train which accompanied the little maid's mother to Norway, was sent, in 1290, to bring the Princess Margaret over, but she died on the way before reaching Scotland. The Scalacronica speaks of only a single envoy, Master Weland, a Scottish clerk. If "the chronicle will not lie," the Maid of Norway and the Scottish clerk perished, we must suppose in a storm, on the coasts of Boghan[28] (Buchan?). This is not quite enough to make the ballad out of, and there is still less material in the marriage of James III with the daughter of the king of Norway in 1469, and no shipwreck chronicled at all.

No such name as Patrick Spens is historically connected with any of these occurrences. Spens has even been said not to be an early Scottish name. Aytoun, however, points to a notable exploit by one Spens as early as 1336, and Mr Macmath has shown me that the name occurred in five charters of David II, therefore between 1329 and 1370. We might allege that Spens, though called Sir Patrick in later days, was in reality only a skeely skipper,[29] and that historians do not trouble themselves much about skippers. But this would be avoiding the proper issue. The actual name of the hero of a ballad affords hardly a presumption as to who was originally the hero. This ballad may be historical, or it may not. It might be substantially historical though the command of the ship were invariably given to Sir Andrew Wood, a distinguished admiral, who was born a couple of centuries after the supposed event; and it might be substantially historical though we could prove that Patrick Spens was only a shipmaster, of purely local fame, who was lost off Aberdour a couple of hundred years ago. For one, I do not feel compelled to regard the ballad as historical.

A mermaid appears to the navigators in #J#, #L#, #P#, #Q#, and informs them, #J#, that they will never see dry land, or are not far from land, #L#, #P#, #Q#, which, coming from a mermaid, they are good seamen enough to know means the same thing. The appearance of a mermaid to seamen is a signal for despair in a brief little ballad, of no great antiquity to all seeming, given further on under the title of 'The Mermaid.' If nothing worse, mermaids at least bode rough weather, and sailors do not like to see them: Faye, Norske Folke-Sagn, ed. 1844, p. 55 (Prior). They have a reputation for treachery: there is in a Danish ballad, Grundtvig, II, 91, No 42, #B# 14, one who has betrayed seven ships.

The place where the ship went down was half owre to Aberdour, #A#, #C#, #F#?; ower by Aberdour, #I#, #J#, #N#; forty miles off Aberdeen, #G#, #H# (#H# may only repeat #G#); nore-east, nore-west frae Aberdeen, #D#; between Leith and Aberdeen, #K#. #B# and #E# transfer the scene to St Johnston (Perth), and #P# to the Clyde, down below Dumbarton Castle. We may fairly say, somewhere off the coast of Aberdeenshire, for the southern Aberdour, in the Firth of Forth, cannot be meant.

The island of Papa Stronsay is said to be about half way between Aberdour in Buchan and the coast of Norway, half owre to Aberdour; and on this island there is a tumulus, which Mr Maidment informs us is known now, and _has always been_ known, as the grave of Sir Patrick Spens. Nothing more has been transmitted, we are assured, but only the name as that of a man buried there: Maidment, Scotish Ballads and Songs, Historical and Traditionary, I, 31 f. "The Scottish ballads were not early current in Orkney, a Scandinavian country," says Aytoun, "so it is very unlikely that the poem could have originated the name." With regard to this Orcadian grave of Patrick Spens, it may first be remarked that Barry, who, in 1808, speaks of the Earl's Knowe in Papa Stronsay, says not a word of the tradition now affirmed to be of indefinite long-standing (neither does Tudor in 1883). The ballad has been in print for a hundred and twenty years. There are Scots in the island now, and perhaps there "always" have been; at any rate, a generation or two is time enough for a story to strike root and establish itself as tradition.[30]

* * * * *

#A a# is translated by Herder, Volkslieder, I, 89, Bodmer, I, 56, Döring, p. 157, Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder, No 16, 1; #G#, by Loève-Veimars, p. 340; #H#, by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, No 2, Schubart, p. 203, Wolff, Halle der Völker, I, 60, Fiedler, Geschichte der schottischen Liederdichtung, I, 13; #I#, by Gerhard, p. 1. Aytoun's ballad, by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder, No 16, 2.

A

#a.# Percy's Reliques, 1765, I, 71: "given from two MS.
copies, transmitted from Scotland." #b.# Herd's Scots
Songs, 1769, p. 243.

1
The king sits in Dumferling toune,
Drinking the blude-reid wine:
'O whar will I get guid sailor,
To sail this schip of mine?'

2
Up and spak an eldern knicht,
Sat at the kings richt kne:
'Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailor
That sails upon the se.'

3
The king has written a braid letter,
And signd it wi his hand,
And sent it to Sir Patrick Spence,
Was walking on the sand.

4
The first line that Sir Patrick red,
A loud lauch lauched he;
The next line that Sir Patrick red,
The teir blinded his ee.

5
'O wha is this has don this deid,
This ill deid don to me,
To send me out this time o' the yeir,
To sail upon the se!

6
'Mak hast, mak haste, my mirry men all,
Our guid schip sails the morne:'
'O say na sae, my master deir,
For I feir a deadlie storme.

7
'Late late yestreen I saw the new moone,
Wi the auld moone in hir arme,
And I feir, I feir, my deir master,
That we will cum to harme.'

8
O our Scots nobles wer richt laith
To weet their cork-heild schoone;
Bot lang owre a' the play wer playd,
Thair hats they swam aboone.

9
O lang, lang may their ladies sit,
Wi thair fans into their hand,
Or eir they se Sir Patrick Spence
Cum sailing to the land.

10
O lang, lang may the ladies stand,
Wi thair gold kems in their hair,
Waiting for thair ain deir lords,
For they'll se thame na mair.

11
Haf owre, haf owre to Aberdour,
It's fiftie fadom deip,
And thair lies guid Sir Patrick Spence,
Wi the Scots lords at his feit.

B

Herd's MSS., II, 27, I, 49.

1
The king he sits in Dumferling,
Drinking the blude reid wine: O
'O where will I get a gude sailor,
That'l sail the ships o mine?' O

2
Up then started a yallow-haird man,
Just be the kings right knee:
'Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailor
That ever saild the see.'

3
Then the king he wrote a lang letter,
And sealld it with his hand,
And sent it to Sir Patrick Spence,
That was lyand at Leith Sands.

4
When Patrick lookd the letter on,
He gae loud laughters three;
But afore he wan to the end of it
The teir blindit his ee.

5
'O wha is this has tald the king,
Has tald the king o me?
Gif I but wist the man it war,
Hanged should he be.

6
'Come eat and drink, my merry men all,
For our ships maun sail the morn;
Bla'd wind, bla'd weet, bla'd sna or sleet,
Our ships maun sail the morn.'

7
'Alake and alas now, good master,
For I fear a deidly storm;
For I saw the new moon late yestreen,
And the auld moon in her arms.'

8
They had not saild upon the sea
A league but merely three,
When ugly, ugly were the jaws
That rowd unto their knee.

9
They had not saild upon the sea
A league but merely nine,
When wind and weit and snaw and sleit
Came blawing them behind.

10
'Then where will I get a pretty boy
Will take my steer in hand,
Till I go up to my tap-mast,
And see gif I see dry land?'

11
'Here am I, a pretty boy
That'l take your steir in hand,
Till you go up to your tap-mast,
And see an you see the land.'

12
Laith, laith were our Scottish lords
To weit their coal-black shoon;
But yet ere a' the play was playd,
They wat their hats aboon.

13
Laith, laith war our Scottish lords
To weit their coal-black hair;
But yet ere a' the play was playd,
They wat it every hair.

14
The water at St Johnston's wall
Was fifty fathom deep,
And there ly a' our Scottish lords,
Sir Patrick at their feet.

15
Lang, lang may our ladies wait
Wi the tear blinding their ee,
Afore they see Sir Patrick's ships
Come sailing oer the sea.

16
Lang, lang may our ladies wait,
Wi their babies in their hands,
Afore they see Sir Patrick Spence
Come sailing to Leith Sands.

C

Motherwell's MS., p. 493, "from the recitation of ----
Buchanan, alias Mrs Notman, 9 September, 1826."

1
The king sat in Dunfermline toun,
Drinking the blude red wine:
'Where will I get a bold sailor,
To sail this ship o mine?'

2
Out then spak an auld auld knicht,
Was nigh the king akin:
'Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor
That ever sailed the main.'

3
The king's wrote a large letter,
Sealed it with his own hand,
And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,
Was walking on dry land.

4
The first three lines he looked on,
The tears did blind his ee;
The neist three lines he looked on
Not one word could he see.

5
'Wha is this,' Sir Patrick says,
'That's tauld the king o me,
To set me out this time o the year
To sail upon the sea!

6
'Yestreen I saw the new new mune,
And the auld mune in her arm;
And that is the sign since we were born
Even of a deadly storm.

7
'Drink about, my merry boys,
For we maun sail the morn;
Be it wind, or be it weet,
Or be it deadly storm.'

8
We hadna sailed a league, a league,
A league but only ane,
Till cauld and watry grew the wind,
And stormy grew the main.

9
We hadna sailed a league, a league,
A league but only twa,
Till cauld and watry grew the wind,
Come hailing owre them a'.

10
We hadna sailed a league, a league,
A league but only three,
Till cold and watry grew the wind,
And grumly grew the sea.

11
'Wha will come,' the captain says,
'And take my helm in hand?
Or wha'll gae up to my topmast,
And look for some dry land?

12
'Mount up, mount up, my pretty boy,
See what you can spy;
Mount up, mount up, my pretty boy,
See if any land we're nigh.'

13
'We're fifty miles from shore to shore,
And fifty banks of sand;
And we have all that for to sail
Or we come to dry land.'

14
'Come down, come down, my pretty boy,
I think you tarry lang;
For the saut sea's in at our coat-neck
And out at our left arm.

15
'Come down, come down, my pretty boy,
I fear we here maun die;
For thro and thro my goodly ship
I see the green-waved sea.'

16
Our Scotch lords were all afraid
To weet their cork-heeled shoon;
But lang or a' the play was played,
Their hats they swam abune.

17
The first step that the captain stept,
It took him to the knee,
And the next step that the captain stepped
They were a' drownd in the sea.

18
Half owre, half owre to Aberdour
It's fifty fadoms deep,
And there lay good Sir Patrick Spens,
And the Scotch lords at his feet.

19
Lang may our Scotch lords' ladies sit,
And sew their silken seam,
Before they see their good Scotch lords
Come sailing owre the main.

20
Lang lang may Sir Patrick's lady
Sit rocking her auld son,
Before she sees Sir Patrick Spens
Come sailing owre the main.

D

Motherwell's MS., p. 496, communicated by Kirkpatrick
Sharpe.

1
The king sits in Dumferling town,
Drinking the blood red wine: O
'Where will I get a good skipper,
To sail seven ships o mine?' O
Where will, etc.

2
O up then spake a bra young man,
And a bra young man was he:
'Sir Andrew Wood is the best skipper
That ever saild the sea.'

3
The king has written a bra letter,
And seald it wi his hand,
And ordered Sir Andrew Wood
To come at his command.

4
'O wha is this, or wha is that,
Has tauld the king o me?
For had he been a better man,
He might ha tauld a lee.'

* * * * * * *

5
As I came in by the Inch, Inch, Inch,
I heard an auld man weep:
'Sir Andrew Wood and a' his men
Are drowned in the deep!'

6
O lang lang may yon ladies stand,
Their fans into their hands,
Before they see Sir Andrew Wood
Come sailing to dry land.

7
O laith laith were our Scottish lords
To weit their cork-heeld shoon;
But ere that a' the play was plaid,
They wat their heads aboon.

8
Nore-east, nore-west frae Aberdeen
Is fifty fathom deep,
And there lies good Sir Andrew Wood,
And a' the Scottish fleet.

E

Motherwell's MS., p. 348.

1
The king sits in Dumfermline toun,
Sae merrilie drinking wine; O
Says, Whare will I get a fine skipper,
Wud sail these ships of mine? O

2
Out and spak an auld rich knicht,
And an ill death may he die!
Says, Young Patrick is the best skipper
That ever set sail on sea.

3
The king did write a lang letter,
Sealed it with his own hand,
And he sent it to Young Patrick,
To come at his command.

4
When Young Patrick read the letter lang,
The tear blindit his ee;
Says Wha is this, or wha is that,
That's tauld the king of me?
Altho he had been better than what he is,
He micht hae askt leave of me.

5
'But busk, O busk, my merry men a',
O busk and mak you braw,
For blaw the wind what airt it will,
Our ship she must awa.

6
'Drink, O drink, my merrie men all,
Drink o the beer and wine,
For gin Wedensday by twal o'clock
We'll a' be in our lang hame.'

7
Out and spak a pretty little boy:
'I fear a deadlie storm;
For I saw the new mune late yestreen,
And the old ane in her arm,
And readilie, maister,' said he,
'That's the sign of a deadly storm.'

8
Aye they sat, and aye they drank,
They drank of the beer and wine,
And gin Wedensday gin ten o'clock,
Their hair was wat abune.

9
'Whare wuld I get a pretty little boy,
That wants to win hose and shoon,
Wuld up to the top of my mainmast go,
See if he could spy land?'

10
O here am I, a pretty little boy,
Wants to win hose and shoon;
I'll up to the top of your mainmast go,
Though I should neer come doun.'

11
'Come doun, come doun, my pretty little boy,
I think thou tarries lang;
For the jawe is coming in at my coat-neck,
Going out at my richt hand.'

12
But there cum a shouir out o the Norewest,
Of dreidfu hail and rain,
It made Young Patrick and his men
A' flat wi the sea faem.

13
O is na it a great pitye
To see feather-beds on the main?
But it is a greater pitye, I think,
To see men doing the same.

14
There's a brig at the back o Sanct John's toun,
It's fifty fadom deep,
And there lies a' our brau Scots lords,
Young Patrick's at their feet.

15
Young Patrick's lady sits at hame,
She's sewing her silken seam;
And aye when she looks to the salt sea waves,
'I fear he'll neer return.'

16
Young Patrick's lady sits at hame
Rocking her oldest son;
And aye when she looks to the salt sea waves,
'I'm feared he'll neer come hame.'

F

Motherwell's MS., p. 153, from the recitation of Mrs
Thomson.

1
The king he sits on Dunfermline hill,
Drinking baith beer and wine; O
Says, Whare shall I get a good skipper,
That will sail the salt sea fine? O

2
But out then speaks an Irish knight,
Sat by the king's right knee:
'Skipper Patrick is the best skipper
That ever my eyes did see.'

3
The king has written a lang letter,
And sealed it wi his hand,
And sent it to Skipper Patrick,
As he walked alang the sand.

4
'O wha is this, or wha is that,
That's tauld the king of me?
For tho it had been the queen hersell,
She might hae let it be.

5
'But busk you, O busk, my merry men all,
Sae merrily busk and boune,
For blaw the wind where eer it will,
Our gude ship sails the morn.'

6
'O no, O no, our dear master,
It will be a deidly storm;
For yestreen I saw the new new mune,
Wi the auld mune in her arm;
It's a token, maister, or ye were born,
It will be a deadly storm.'

7
'But busk, O busk, my merrie men all,
Our gude ship sails the morn,
For blow the wind whereer it will,
Our gude ship sails the morn.'

8
They had na sailed a day, a day,
A day but scarsely five,
Till Skipper Patrick's bonny ship
Began to crack and rive.

9
It's bonny was the feather beds
That swimmed alang the main,
But bonnier was our braw Scots lords,
They neer returned again.

10
Our Scots lords they are all laith
To weet their coal black shoon;
But I trow or a' the play was played,
They wat their hair abune.

11
Our ladies may stand upon the sand,
Kembing down their yellow hair,
But they will neer see Skipper Patrick's ship
Come sailing in nae mair.

12
Our ladies may stand upon the sand
Wi gloves upon their hand,
But they will never see Skipper Patrick's ship
Come sailing into the land.

13
O vour and o vour to bonnie Aberdour
It's fifty fadoms deep;
There you will find young Patrick lye,
Wi his Scots lords at his head.

14
Row owre, row owre to Aberdour,
It's fifty fadom deep;
And there lies Earl Patrick Spens,
His men all at his feet.

G

Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 157, communicated by Scott.

1
The king sits in Dunfermlin town,
Sae merrily drinkin the wine:
'Whare will I get a mariner,
Will sail this ship o mine?'

2
Then up bespak a bonny boy,
Sat just at the king's knee:
'Sir Patrick Spence is the best seaman,
That eer set foot on sea.'

3
The king has written a braid letter,
Seald it wi his ain hand;
He has sent word to Sir Patrick,
To come at his command.

4
'O wha is this, or wha is that,
Has tald the king o me?
For I was never a good seaman,
Nor ever intend to be.'

5
They mounted sail on Munenday morn,
Wi a' the haste they may,
And they hae landed in Norraway,
Upon the Wednesday.

6
They hadna been a month, a month
In Norraway but three,
Till lads o Norraway began to say,
Ye spend a' our white monie.

7
'Ye spend a' our good kingis goud,
But and our queenis fee:'
'Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud,
Sae weel's I hear you lie.

8
'For I brought as much white money
As will gain my men and me;
I brought half a fou o good red goud
Out oer the sea with me.

9
'Be't wind or weet, be't snaw or sleet,
Our ships maun sail the morn:'
'O ever alack! my master dear,
I fear a deadly storm.

10
'I saw the new moon late yestreen,
Wi the auld moon in her arm;
And if we gang to sea, master,
I fear we'll suffer harm.'

11
They hadna sailed a league on sea,
A league but barely ane,
Till anchors brak, and tap-masts lap;
There came a deadly storm.

12
'Whare will I get a bonny boy
Will tak thir sails in hand,
That will gang up to the tap-mast,
See an he ken dry land?'

13
Laith, laith were our good Scots lords
To weet their leathern shoon;
But or the morn at fair day-light,
Their hats were wat aboon.

14
Mony was the feather bed,
That flotterd on the faem,
And mony was the good Scots lord
Gaed awa that neer cam hame,
And mony was the fatherless bairn
That lay at hame greetin.

15
It's forty miles to Aberdeen,
And fifty fathoms deep;
And there lyes a' our good Scots lords,
Wi Sir Patrick at their feet.

16
The ladies crackt their fingers white,
The maidens tore their hair,
A' for the sake o their true loves,
For them they neer saw mair.

17
Lang, lang may our ladies stand,
Wi their fans in their hand,
Ere they see Sir Patrick and his men
Come sailing to the land.

H

Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, III, 64, ed. 1803; I,
299, ed. 1833; "taken from two MS. copies, collated with
several verses recited by the editor's friend, Robert
Hamilton, Esq., Advocate."

1
The king sits in Dumfermline town,
Drinking the blude-red wine: O
'O whare will I get a skeely skipper,
To sail this new ship of mine?' O

2
O up and spake an eldern knight,
Sat at the king's right knee:
'Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor
That ever saild the sea.'

3
Our king has written a braid letter,
And seald it with his hand,
And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,
Was walking on the strand.

4
'To Noroway, to Noroway,
To Noroway oer the faem;
The king's daughter of Noroway,
'T is thou maun bring her hame.'

5
The first word that Sir Patrick read,
Sae loud, loud laughed he;
The neist word that Sir Patrick read,
The tear blinded his ee.

6
'O wha is this has done this deed,
And tauld the king o me,
To send us out at this time of the year
To sail upon the sea?

7
'Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet,
Our ship must sail the faem;
The king's daughter of Noroway,
'T is we must fetch her hame.'

8
They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn,
Wi a' the speed they may;
They hae landed in Noroway,
Upon a Wodensday.

9
They hadna been a week, a week
In Noroway but twae,
When that the lords o Noroway
Began aloud to say:

10
'Ye Scottishmen spend a' our king's goud,
And a' our queenis fee!'
'Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud,
Fu loud I hear ye lie!