Chapter VI: Appendix (1)

The first of the following pieces is described as having been learned by Mrs Harris, in Perthshire, about 1790, transmitted by recitation to her daughter, and written down from recollection in 1859. No account is given of the derivation of the other. Both make the princess marry Sir Colvin after his victory on the elritch hill, rejecting Percy's pathetic conclusion. Neither retains much of the phraseology of Percy's manuscript, and neither shows those traces of Percy's phraseology which would demonstrate its parentage. The first, though the style is stale enough, has not the decidedly stall-copy stamp of the other. It undoubtedly has passed through a succession of mouths (as is shown by the change of leech to match in 3^2), but we may doubt whether the other was ever sung or said. 8^4, in the Harris version,

Sin the first nicht that I was born,

is close to the Percy manuscript, 17^4,

Since the day that I was borne,

where Percy's Reliques has,

But he did him scath and scorne.

In the old manuscript, when Sir Cawline cuts off the elritch knight's hand, the hand flies over the knight's head and falls down on that lay land; in Buchan, 25, 26, the hand also flies into the sky and lights on the ground; but Percy says merely that the knight fell on that lay land. So that there is one case in each of agreement with the Percy manuscript where the Reliques depart from it. It may also he urged that Buchan, 22^{1, 2},

To trouble any Christian one
Lives in the righteous law,

is nearer to what we find in the manuscript, st. 25,

And to meete noe man of middle-earth
And that liues (=='lieves) on Christs his lay,

than Percy's,

That thou wilt believe on Christ his laye,
And thereto plight thy hand;

And that thou never on Eldridge come.

Were there anything characteristic or otherwise remarkable in the passages where there is agreement with the Percy manuscript and divergence from the Reliques, even one case of such agreement could not be lightly set aside.[71] But such agreements as these are not significant enough to offset the general character of the Scottish ballads, which is not that of a traditional waif, but of a fabrication of recent times. It is most likely that the Harris ballad was put together by some one who was imperfectly acquainted with the copy in the Reliques. Whether Buchan's ballad was formed upon some copy of the Harris version it is not worth the while to ask.

SIR COLIN

Harris MS., fol. 5b.

1
The king luikit owre his castle wa,
To his nobles ane an a';
Says, Whare it is him Sir Colin,
I dinna see him amang you a'?

2
Up it spak an eldern knicht,
Aye an even up spak he:
'Sir Colin's sick for your dochter Janet,
He's very sick, an like to dee.'

3
'Win up, win up, my dochter Janet,
I wat ye are a match most fine;
Tak the baken bread an wine sae ried,
An to Sir Colin ye maun gieng.'

4
Up she rase, that fair Janet,
An I wat weel she was na sweer,
An up they rase, her merrie maries,
An they said a' they wad gae wi her.

5
'No, no,' said fair Janet,
'No, no such thing can be;
For a thrang to gae to a sick man's bour,
I think it wald be great folie.

6
'How is my knicht, all last nicht?'
'Very sick an like to dee;
But if I had a kiss o your sweet lips,
I wald lie nae langer here.'

7
She leant her doon on his bed-side,
I wat she gae him kisses three;
But wi sighen said that fair Janet,
'As for your bride, I daurna be.

8
'Unless you watch the Orlange hill,
An at that hill there grows a thorn;
There neer cam a liven man frae it,
Sin the first nicht that I was born.'

9
'Oh I will watch the Orlange hill,
Though I waur thinkin to be slain;
But I will gie you some love tokens,
In case we never meet again.'

10
He gae her rings to her fingers,
Sae did he ribbons to her hair;
He gae her a broach to her briest-bane,
For fear that they sud neer meet mair.

11
She put her hand in her pocket,
An she took out a lang, lang wand;
'As lang's ony man this wand sall keep,
There sall not a drap o his blude be drawn.'

12
Whan een was come, an een-bells rung,
An a' man boun for bed,
There beheld him Sir Colin,
Fast to the Orlange hill he rade.

13
The wind blew trees oot at the rutes,
Sae did it auld castles doon;
'T was eneuch to fricht ony Christian knicht,
To be sae far frae ony toon.

14
He rade up, sae did he doon,
He rade even through the loan,
Till he spied a knicht, wi a ladie bricht,
Wi a bent bow intil his han.

15
She cried afar, ere she cam naur,
I warn ye, kind sir, I rede ye flee;
That for the love you bear to me,
I warn ye, kind sir, that ye flee.

16
They faucht up, sae did they doon,
They faucht even through the loan,
Till he cut aff the king's richt han,
Was set aboot wi chains a' goud.

17
'Haud your hand now, Sir Colin,
I wat you've dung my love richt sair;
Noo for the love ye bear to me,
See that ye ding my love nae mair.'

18
He wooed, he wooed that fair Janet,
He wooed her and he brocht her hame;
He wooed, he wooed that fair Janet,
An ca'd her Dear-Coft till her name.

KING MALCOLM AND SIR COLVIN

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 6;
Motherwell's MS., p. 581.

1
There ance livd a king in fair Scotland,
King Malcolm called by name,
Whom ancient history gives record
For valour, worth, and fame.

2
And it fell ance upon a day,
The king sat down to dine,
And then he missd a favourite knight,
Whose name was Sir Colvin.

3
But out it speaks another knight,
Ane o Sir Colvin's kin:
'He's lyin in bed, right sick in love,
All for your daughter Jean.'

4
'O wae's me,' said the royal king,
'I'm sorry for the same;
She maun take bread and wine sae red,
Give it to Sir Colvin.'

5
Then gently did she bear the bread,
Her page did carry the wine,
And set a table at his bed:
'Sir Colvin, rise and dine.'

6
'O well love I the wine, lady,
Come frae your lovely hand,
But better love I your fair body,
Than all fair Scotland's strand.'

7
'O hold your tongue now, Sir Colvin,
Let all your folly be;
My love must be by honour won,
Or nane shall enjoy me.

8
'But on the head o Elrick's hill,
Near by yon sharp hawthorn,
Where never a man with life eer came,
Sin our sweet Christ was born;

9
'O ye'll gang there and walk a' night,
And boldly blaw your horn;
With honour that ye do return,
Ye'll marry me the morn.'

10
Then up it raise him Sir Colvin,
And dressd in armour keen,
And he is on to Elrick's hill,
Without light of the meen.

11
At midnight mark the meen upstarts;
The knight walkd up and down,
While loudest cracks o thunder roard
Out ower the bent sae brown.

12
Then by the twinkling of an ee
He spied an armed knight,
A fair lady bearing his brand,
Wi torches burning bright.

13
Then he cried high, as he came nigh,
'Coward thief, I bid you flee!
There is not ane comes to this hill,
But must engage wi me.

14
'Ye'll best take road before I come,
And best take foot and flee;
Here is a sword, baith sharp and broad
Will quarter you in three.'

15
Sir Colvin said, I'm not afraid
Of any here I see;
You hae not taen your God before;
Less dread hae I o thee.

16
Sir Colvin then he drew his sword,
His foe he drew his brand,
And they fought there on Elrick's hill
Till they were bluidy men.

17
The first an stroke the knight he strake,
Gae Colvin a slight wound;
The next an stroke Lord Colvin strake,
Brought's foe unto the ground.

18
'I yield, I yield,' the knight he said,
'I fairly yield to thee;
Nae ane came eer to Elrick-hill
Eer gaind such victorie.

19
'I and my forbears here did haunt
Three hundred years and more;
I'm safe to swear a solemn oath
We were never beat before.'

20
'An asking,' said the lady gay,
'An asking ye'll grant me;'
'Ask on, ask on,' said Sir Colvin,
'What may your asking be?'

21
'Ye'll gie me hame my wounded knight,
Let me fare on my way;
And I'se neer be seen on Elrick's hill,
By night, nor yet by day;
And to this place we'll come nae mair,
Coud we win safe away.

22
'To trouble any Christian one,
Lives in the righteous law,
We'll come nae mair unto this place,
Coud we win safe awa.'

23
'O yese get hame your wounded knight,
Ye shall not gang alane;
But I maun hae a wad o him,
Before that we twa twine.'

24
Sir Colvin being a book-learnd man,
Sae gude in fencing tee,
He's drawn a stroke behind his hand,
And followed in speedilie.

25
Sae fierce a stroke Sir Colvin's drawn,
And followed in speedilie,
The knight's brand and sword hand
In the air he gard them flee.

26
It flew sae high into the sky,
And lighted on the ground;
The rings that were on these fingers
Were worth five hundred pound.

27
Up he has taen that bluidy hand,
Set it before the king,
And the morn it was Wednesday,
When he married his daughter Jean.

Motherwell, who cites a manuscript of Buchan, prints the first three stanzas and the last with some variations: Introduction, p. lxvi, note **. The ballad is not in Buchan's two manuscript volumes.

[65] So maintaine vs all in our right?

[66] To this suggestion the actual form of stanzas 8, 11 lends a faint plausibility.

[67] Percy MS., Hales and Furnivall, I, 367, 372 f, 389, 391. For the name of the sword see Liebrecht, Zur Volkskunde, p. 500.

[68] Cited by Scott, Minstrelsy, II, 273, ed. 1833; Otia Imperialia, ed. Liebrecht, LIX, p. 26.

[69] Grundtvig's #A#, #B# are translated by Dr Prior, I, 276. The story is found also in Icelandic rímur of the 15th century printed in Björner's Kämpedater, 1737. Björner was acquainted with an old Swedish ballad on the subject, but this ballad has not been found. The story of these rímur is given by Mallet, Histoire de Dannemarc, II, 312, ed. 1787, and in Percy's translation, Northern Antiquities, II, 248.

[70] So, as to _and_, the German 'Ulinger,' Mittler, p. 68, sts 21, 22, 23; den ersten schrey _und_ den sie thet, etc.

[71] The Percy manuscript was inspected by many persons near the time of the first publication of the Reliques, and again while the fourth edition was going through the press, but it is not for a moment to be suggested or supposed that anything in the Scottish 'Sir Colvin' is to be accounted for in that way.

62

FAIR ANNIE

#A.# 'Lord Thomas and Fair Annie,' Minstrelsy of the
Scottish Border, II, 102, 1802; 31 stanzas.

#B.# 'Burd Helen,' Jamieson's Popular Ballads, II, 376;
26 stanzas.

#C.# 'Fair Annie,' Motherwell's MS., p. 351; 33 stanzas.

#D.# Herd, The Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p.
307; 8 stanzas.

#E.# 'Lady Jane,' Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 20, Jamieson's
Popular Ballads, II, 371; 20 stanzas.

#F.# 'Fair Annie,' Motherwell's MS., p. 385, Motherwell's
Minstrelsy, p. 327; 32 stanzas.

#G.# Communicated by Miss Reburn; 5 stanzas.

#H.# Communicated by Dr Thomas Davidson; 2 stanzas.

#I.# 'Fair Annie,' Kinloch MSS, I, 155; 45 stanzas.

#J.# 'The Fause Lord,' Buchan's MSS, I, 66; 65 stanzas.

The fragment #D#, printed in 1769, antedates the committing to writing of any of the other versions. #E# was taken down as early as 1783. #A# and #B# are from the beginning of this century. #A# was obtained "chiefly from the recitation of an old woman," but we are not informed who supplied the rest. Herd's fragment, #D#, furnished stanzas 2-6, 12, 17, 19. A doubt may be hazarded whether stanzas 8-10 came from the old woman. #I# is a combination of three recited versions, and #J#, perhaps a transcript of a stall-copy, is, like many of Buchan's ballads, extended to twice the length of genuine versions by tedious, sometimes nauseous, amplification and interpolation.

'Lady Jane,' Jamieson's Popular Ballads, II, 73, is a combination of #B# and #E#, with a good many bad verses of Jamieson's own. A version in Motherwell's MS., p. 477, "from the recitation of an old maid-servant of Mr Alexander, of Southbar," was, as would be inferred from a memorandum at the end of the transcript, derived from a printed book, and is in fact an imperfect recollection of this compounded ballad of Jamieson's.

Grundtvig has attempted a reconstitution of the ballad from versions #A#, #B#, #D#, #E#, #F#, Danmarks gamle Folkeviser, V, 42.

Annie [Helen, #B#, Ellen, #G#, Jane, #E#] was stolen from home in her childhood, #A# 15, #B# 23, #C# 31, #E# 9, #F# 25, #I# 38, #J# 50, 51, by a knight from over sea, to whom she has borne seven sons, out of wedlock. Her consort bids her prepare to welcome a bride, with whom he shall get gowd and gear; with her he got none. But she must look like a maid, comb down her yellow locks, braid her hair.[72] Annie meekly assents, for love, she says, in #C# 12; in #I# 4, #J# 15, the welcoming goes against her heart; in #F# 9 she is told that she is to do it; in #H# 2 she says the welcome will have to come from him. Annie receives the bride and her train and serves the tables, suppressing her tears and drinking water to keep her cheek from paling. She passes for servant or housekeeper, and in #I# 23, #J# 25, uses the word 'master,' not to anger the bride; in #C# 17 she calls her lord brother, and the knight calls her sister in #C# 18 and (inconsistently) in #J# 38. What 'n a lady's that? asks the bride, #E# 9, #J# 37, and what means all these bonny boys that follow at her heel? #J# 37.

When the married pair have gone to their bed-chamber, Annie, in a room near by, bewails her sad lot in song; to the harp or her virginals, #E#, #F#, #J#, #I#. The bride hears the lament: it is that of a woman who will go mad ere day, #B# 20, #C# 26, #J# 44, 48. The bride goes to Fair Annie's chamber, #A#, #C#? to see what gars her greet, inquires her parentage, and discovers that they are sisters; or learns this fact from the song itself, #B#, #E#; or recognizes her sister's voice, #F#, #I#, #J#. King Henry was their father, #B#, #F#, #I#; King Easter, #C#;[73] the Earl of Wemyss, of Richmond, #A#, #E#. Queen Easter was their mother, #F#; Queen Catherine, Elinor [Orvis], #B#, #I#. The bride, who had come with many well-loaded ships, gives all or most of them to her sister, #A#, #B#, #C#, #F#, #I#, and goes virgin home, #A#, #B#, #F#, #I#, #J#; expecting, as #B#, #J# add, to encounter derision for going away wife and coming back maid.

In #C# 27 the bride suspects that the woman who wails so madly is a leman, and urges her husband to get up and pack her down the stairs, though the woods were ne'er so wild. He refuses. A similar scene is elsewhere put earlier, during the bridal entertainment, #I# 29, 30, #J# 40: see also #G# 2, 3, which are partly explained by these passages, and partly by #J# 36.

There are other variations in the story, and some additional particulars in one or another version: none of these, however, seem to belong to the original ballad. The bride, as soon as she sees Annie, is struck with the resemblance to her lost sister, #A# 14, #E# 9, #J# 29. The bridegroom repents, and rejects the woman he has married, #E# 19, #F# 30, #J# 49. The bridegroom confiscates without ceremony, as tocher for Annie, six of the seven ships which the bride had brought with her, #E#, #J#.[74]

The name Lord Thomas in #A# was probably suggested by 'Lord Thomas and Fair Annet.'

* * * * *

A Danish ballad of Fair Annie has been known to the English for fourscore years through Jamieson's translation. The Scandinavian versions are the following.

#Danish.#'Skjön Anna,' Grundtvig, No 258, V, 13, eight versions: #A#, 39 four-line stanzas, #B#, 34 sts, #C#, 45 sts, from manuscripts of the sixteenth century; #D#, 48 sts, #E#, 41 sts, #G#, 32 sts, from seventeenth-century manuscripts; #F#, 41 sts, from broadsides or stall-copies, the earliest dated 1648, from Peder Syv, 1695, and from copies lately taken down which were derived from printed texts; #H#, 43 sts, a version recently obtained from tradition in Norway. Of these, #A#, #B#, #C#, #G# are independent texts; #D#, #E#, #F# are derived from some copy of #C#, or from a version closely akin to #C#; #H# is essentially the broadside copy #F#, but has one stanza of its own. #F#, Syv, No 17, Danske Viser, IV, 59, No 177, the form through which the Danish ballad has been made known by English translations, is unfortunately an impure and sophisticated text.

#Swedish.# #A#, 'Skön Anna,' 19 sts, Arwidsson, I, 291, No 42; #B#, Afzelius, I, 24, No 5, 32 sts; #C#, Wigström, Folkdiktning, I, 57, No 28, 37 sts. #C# follows in the main Danish #F#, but with a variation in st. 31 which is of much importance if traditional. A translation of Danish #F# has long circulated in Sweden as a broadside: see, besides Grundtvig, Bergström's Afzelius, II, 30.

The Scandinavian story will, for more brevity, be collected principally from Danish #A#, #B#, #C#, and some variations of the other copies be added.

Fair Annie [Anneck, Annecke, #A#], a king's daughter, is stolen in her early years, and sold to a man of rank, who is in fact heir to a crown. They have seven sons in eight [seven] years, and he then becomes king. Fair Annie begs the queen-mother to intercede with her son now to make her a lawful wife and legitimate his children. The mother loves Annie, and heartily desires that he may. The son refuses; she has great virtues, but he does not know Annie's friends [her forbears, lineage, Danish #F#, Swedish #C#]. He makes suit for a king's daughter in a distant land. Annie's heart all but breaks when the bride comes. The young king asks the bride what gift she will give his _amie_, #A#. I will give her my old shoes, she says, #B#, #D#, #F#. She must give something else if she would get his good will. Then she will give Annie seven mills that lie far over the Rhine and grind nought but cinnamon, #B#, #D#, #F#. Annie is now asked what gift she will make the bride. I will give her _you_, whom I can so ill spare, answers Annie. No, that is not enough; she must give another gift to win the bride's good will. I will give her the seven sons I have borne, says Annie. Neither is that enough; she must give the bride her gold brooch. This Annie will not surrender, for it was his morning-gift. Annie now asks her lord to let her go into the bride-house [hall] and see the bride. He refuses emphatically, but his kind mother says, Yes; she will even go with Annie, though it should cost her her life. Annie goes to the bride-house, preceded by her seven sons, who wear her father's color. She pours wine for the bride, with many tears, #A#, #C#. The bride asks who this fair woman is that weeps so sore. And who are these that wear her father's color?[75] It is the king's sister's daughter, from a foreign land, #C-F#, #H#; his sister, Danish #A#, Swedish #A#, #B#. "It is not your sister's daughter," says the bride; "that I plainly see. I fear it is your leman," #C# 34, #D#, #E#. The king now avows the truth. It is Fair Annie, my leman, Danish #A# 33, Swedish #A# 16 (which adds, "Her father I never knew"); she was stolen from a foreign land in her young days, and has been with me seven years, Danish #B# 31; she was sold to me from a foreign land; these are her seven sons, they will be bastards now, and that is the cause of her grief, #C# 35, 36, #D#, #E#; these are my seven sons, Fair Annie is their mother, Swedish #B# 27. I had a sister, says the bride; she was stolen from my father's land; Fair Annie was her name, this must be she,[76] she shall keep her husband. The king sends the new-come bride home with due ceremony, and keeps Fair Annie for his heart's delight, #C# 37-44, #D#, #E#.

In Danish #G# 7, the king gives as a reason for not espousing Fair Annie that she has no fortune, ingen rente, which is the objection to her in English #A# 1, #C# 2, etc. The oldest [youngest] son of Fair Annie attends his mother's sister to her father's land in Swedish #C#, Danish #F#, #K#, as in English #J# 54. The king promises his brother to Annie's sister in Danish #A# 39 (compare also Swedish #B# 33). In English #I# 26, #J# 30, the bride thinks _her_ brother would be a good match for Annie.

Swedish #C#, though in itself of little authority, has an advantage over the Danish copies and Swedish #B# in making Annie refuse to part with the gold brooch, not because it was a morning-gift, but because she had had it ever since she was a child and was kidnapped from her father's court; and again in making this brooch the means of her recognition as sister by the bride.

The Scandinavian ballad is regarded by Grundtvig as transmitted from Low German. The rhymes are frequently not after the Danish manner (see Grundtvig, V, 46, 7), and the heroine's name has a Low German look.

Dutch and German versions, all ill enough preserved, are:

#Dutch.# #A.# 'Schön Adelheid,' 22 four-line stanzas, Hoffmann, Niederländische Volkslieder, 2d ed., 1856, p. 46, No 11, 'Mooi Aeltje en Koning Alewijn,' Willems, p. 177, No 70; from Den Italiaenschen Quacksalver, Amsterdam, 1708. #B.# 'Madel,' 15 stanzas, Snellaert, Oude en nieuwe Liedjes, p. 70, No 65, 2d ed., 1864.

#German.# #A.# Longard, Altrheinländische Mährlein und Liedlein, 1843, p. 23, No 12; Wilhelm von Zuccalmaglio, Deutsche Volkslieder, 1840, p. 74, No 32,==Mittler, No 333: 21 four-line stanzas. #B.# Montanus (Vincenz von Zuccalmaglio), Die deutschen Volksfeste, 1854, p. 46, 17 stanzas, apparently rewritten.

According to Dutch #A# Aaltje, Ethel, Adeline, a king's daughter, is stolen, and sold for a great sum to King Alewijn. She asks the king's mother, who is quite disposed to have her for a daughter, when her son will marry her, and the mother asks her son how long Maid Aaltje is to live under disgrace. The king objects that Aaltje is a _vondeling_, a waif-woman (English #C# 2, #I# 2); Heaven only knows her friends and kin. He adds that he was over the Rhine yesterday, and that Aaltje will break her heart with sorrow. The young woman asks the mother's permission to go to the bride's house, and is told to go in good style, her seven sons before her and fourteen ladies-in-waiting behind. The king meets Aaltje half-way, and says, If you are going to the bride's house, what gift do you mean to make the bride? The bride will have enough, she replies; I will give her my old stockings and shoes. She must give something better to gain her friendship. Then Aaltje will give her "seven sons of yours and mine" to serve her. She will have your seven sons, says the king, but you must give her your brooch.[77] No, that you will not get, says Aaltje. There were two at my father's court; my sister and I each had one. Are you then of royal birth? says the king. Had you told me that, I would have married _you_. When Aaltje appears at the bride's house, they offer her to drink, and many a tear she drops in the cup. Who is this woman that weeps so piteously? asks the bride. These are some of our nieces and nephews, who have come from foreign parts to bring you presents, is the king's answer. Nieces and nephews! says the bride; it is Maid Aaltje, my youngest sister. She takes the crown from her head: Take it, Aaltje, and keep your husband. Saddle my horse. I came in honor, I must go back in shame. (Cf. English #B# 26, #I# 45.)

#B.# Madel (M'Adel), the oldest of a king's two daughters, is stolen by a king's son to be his leman, and taken to a far country. They have seven sons, and he forsakes her and betroths himself to her sister. He asks his mother what present she will make his bride; she has seven mills which she will give her. Madel, asked in like manner, replies, My old stockings and shoes. Madel asks the queen-mother if she may go to the bridal, for the king is to marry, and is answered as in #A#. When she comes to the bride-loft they pour wine for her, and she drops tears in the cup. The bride asks who this is, and the king replies, One of my nieces from a far country, who came to do me honor, but only puts me to shame. You are not telling me the truth, says the bride. The king owns that it is Madel, his leman, with her seven sons. The bride recognizes a brooch[78] stiff with gold and silk. "There are but two such in all Flanders; I and my sister each had one." She tears the crown from her own head and puts it on her sister, saying, King, marry her in my place. The brooch is distinctly made the means of identification, which it by all likelihood was originally in all the Scandinavian ballads, though only Swedish #C# has retained (or restored) this feature.

The #German# ballad resembles Dutch #A# closely. The queen-mother gives Adelheid permission to go to the wedding, and her seven sons must walk before her. At the feast the king offers her to drink; she cannot drink for the grief he has caused her. The bride sees her weeping, and orders food and drink to be offered her (cf. English #J# 36), but she cannot touch them. The king pretends that she is one of his nieces who has lived with him seven years [is fatigued by her journey, #B#]. The bride exclaims, I see the fore-span (by your fore-span, #A#), you are driving a pair! In #A# she asks the fair woman's name and country. Her country is over the Rhine, and thence she had been stolen. "Then you must be my sister," declares the bride somewhat hastily, gives up her seat and the crown, puts her ring on Adelheid's finger, and bids the news be sent to father and mother.

The lyric beauty of the Scottish version of this ballad, especially conspicuous in #A#, #C#, #E#, has been appreciatingly remarked by Grundtvig.

But Fair Annie's fortunes have not only been charmingly sung, as here; they have also been exquisitely _told_ in a favorite lay of Marie de France, 'Le Lai del Freisne.' This tale, of Breton origin, is three hundred years older than any manuscript of the ballad. Comparison will, however, quickly show that it is not the source either of the English or of the Low German and Scandinavian ballad. The tale and the ballads have a common source, which lies further back, and too far for us to find.

The story of the lay is this.[79] There were two knights in Brittany, living on contiguous estates, and both married. The lady of one of the two gave birth to two boys, and the father sent information of the event to his neighbor and friend. His friend's wife was a scoffing, envious woman, "judging always for the worse," and said,

I marvel much, thou messenger,
Who was thy lordës counsellor,
That did advise him not to spare
This shame to publish everywhere,
That his wife hath _two_ children bore:
Well may each man know therefore
Two men have been with her in bower,[80]
Which is to both but small honour.

In the course of the same year the woman that had made this hateful insinuation was brought to bed of twin girls. To save her reputation she was ready even to put one of them to death, but a favorite damsel in her house suggested a better way out of her perplexity, and that was to leave one of the children at the door of a convent. The child, wrapped in a rich pall that had been brought from Constantinople, with a jewelled ring bound to its arm to show that it was well born, was taken away in the night to a considerable distance, and was laid between the branches of a great ash-tree in front of a nunnery. In the morning it was discovered by the porter, who told his adventure to the abbess; and the abbess, having inspected the foundling, resolved to bring it up under the style of her niece. The girl, who received the name La Freisne from the tree in which she had been found, turned out a marvel of beauty and of all good qualities. A gentleman of the vicinity fell in love with her, and made large gifts to the monastery to constitute himself a lay-brother, and so have access to her without exciting suspicion. He obtained her love, and in the end induced her to fly with him to his château. This she did with sufficient deliberation to take with her the robe and ring which were the tokens of her birth; for the abbess had told her how she had been found in the ash, and had committed these objects to her care. She lived a good while with the knight as his mistress, and made herself loved by everybody; but his retainers had repeatedly remonstrated with him for not providing himself with a lawful successor, and at last forced him to marry the daughter and heiress of a gentleman near by. On the day of the nuptials La Freisne let no sign of grief or anger escape her, but devoted herself to the bride so amiably as even to win over the mother, who had accompanied her daughter, and had at first felt much uneasiness at the presence of a possible rival. Finding the marriage bed not decked with sufficient elegance, La Freisne took from a trunk the precious pall from Constantinople, and threw it on for a coverlet. When the bride's mother was about to put her daughter to bed, this robe was of course the first object that met her eyes. Her heart quaked. She sent for the chamberlain, and asked where the cloth came from. The chamberlain explained that "the damsel" had put it on to improve the appearance of the bed. The damsel was summoned, and told what she knew: the abbess who brought her up had given her the robe, and with it a ring, and charged her to take good care of them. A sight of the ring was asked; the lady cried, You are my daughter, and fainted. When she recovered she sent for her husband and confessed everything. The husband was only too happy to find that the damsel tant pruz è sage è bele was his daughter. The story was repeated to La Freisne, and then to the knight and to the archbishop who had performed the marriage ceremony. The marriage was dissolved the next day, and La Freisne formally espoused by the knight, who received with her half her father's heritage. The sister went home and made a rich marriage.

The common ground-work of the ballads and the lay is, that a man who has formed an irregular union with a woman whose family he does not know undertakes matrimony with another person, who is discovered on the day of the nuptials to be sister to his leman. A jewel in the possession of the latter, by itself or together with another token, reveals and proves the kinship in the lay and in the Scandinavian-German ballad, but there is no trace of such an instrumentality in the Scottish.

Single features, or even several features, of the story of Fair Annie or of La Freisne occur in many other ballads and tales, but there is no occasion to go into these resemblances here. A Norse ballad has almost every point in 'Fair Annie' but the sisterly relation of leman and bride: see 'Slegfred og Brud,' Grundtvig, No 255, and 'Thomas o Yonderdale,' an apocryphal ballad of Buchan's, further on. Bare mention may be made of the beautiful Spanish romance 'Las dos Hermanas,' found also in Portuguese, in which the queen of a Moor or Turk discovers her sister in a slave who has been presented to her, or captured at her request.[81]

* * * * *

Translated after #A# by Schubart, p. 115; mainly after #E#, with stanzas from #A# and #C#, by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, No 28; after #E# by Wolff, Hausschatz, p. 209, Halle der Völker, I, 3; after #D# by Gerhard, p. 77; by Knortz, L. u. R. Alt-Englands, No 3, after Allingham.

* * * * *

Danish #F# by Jamieson, Popular Ballads, II, 103; by Prior, III, 300, No 148. Dutch #A# by Prior, III, 484.

A

Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, II, 102, 1802, chiefly
from the recitation of an old woman residing near
Kirkhill, in West Lothian.

1
'It's narrow, narrow, make your bed,
And learn to lie your lane;
For I'm ga'n oer the sea, Fair Annie,
A braw bride to bring hame.
Wi her I will get gowd and gear;
Wi you I neer got nane.

2
'But wha will bake my bridal bread,
Or brew my bridal ale?
And wha will welcome my brisk bride,
That I bring oer the dale?'

3
'It's I will bake your bridal bread,
And brew your bridal ale,
And I will welcome your brisk bride,
That you bring oer the dale.'

4
'But she that welcomes my brisk bride
Maun gang like maiden fair;
She maun lace on her robe sae jimp,
And braid her yellow hair.'

5
'But how can I gang maiden-like,
When maiden I am nane?
Have I not born seven sons to thee,
And am with child again?'

6
She's taen her young son in her arms,
Another in her hand,
And she's up to the highest tower,
To see him come to land.

7
'Come up, come up, my eldest son,
And look oer yon sea-strand,
And see your father's new-come bride,
Before she come to land.'

8
'Come down, come down, my mother dear,
Come frae the castle wa!
I fear, if langer ye stand there,
Ye'll let yoursell down fa.'

9
And she gaed down, and farther down,
Her love's ship for to see,
And the topmast and the mainmast
Shone like the silver free.

10
And she's gane down, and farther down,
The bride's ship to behold,
And the topmast and the mainmast
They shone just like the gold.

11
She's taen her seven sons in her hand,
I wot she didna fail;
She met Lord Thomas and his bride,
As they came oer the dale.

12
'You're welcome to your house, Lord Thomas,
You're welcome to your land;
You're welcome with your fair ladye,
That you lead by the hand.

13
'You're welcome to your ha's, ladye,
Your welcome to your bowers;
You're welcome to your hame, ladye,
For a' that's here is yours.'

14
'I thank thee, Annie; I thank thee, Annie,
Sae dearly as I thank thee;
You're the likest to my sister Annie,
That ever I did see.

15
'There came a knight out oer the sea,
And steald my sister away;
The shame scoup in his company,
And land whereer he gae!'

16
She hang ae napkin at the door,
Another in the ha,
And a' to wipe the trickling tears,
Sae fast as they did fa.

17
And aye she served the lang tables,
With white bread and with wine,
And aye she drank the wan water,
To had her colour fine.

18
And aye she served the lang tables,
With white bread and with brown;
And ay she turned her round about,
Sae fast the tears fell down.

19
And he's taen down the silk napkin,
Hung on a silver pin,
And aye he wipes the tear trickling
A' down her cheek and chin.

20
And aye he turn'd him round about,
And smiled amang his men;
Says, Like ye best the old ladye,
Or her that's new come hame?

21
When bells were rung, and mass was sung,
And a' men bound to bed,
Lord Thomas and his new-come bride
To their chamber they were gaed.

22
Annie made her bed a little forbye,
To hear what they might say;
'And ever alas!' Fair Annie cried,
'That I should see this day!

23
'Gin my seven sons were seven young rats,
Running on the castle wa,
And I were a grey cat mysell,
I soon would worry them a'.

24
'Gin my seven sons were seven young hares,
Running oer yon lilly lee,
And I were a grew hound mysell,
Soon worried they a' should be.'

25
And wae and sad Fair Annie sat,
And drearie was her sang,
And ever, as she sobbd and grat,
'Wae to the man that did the wrang!'

26
'My gown is on,' said the new-come bride,
'My shoes are on my feet,
And I will to Fair Annie's chamber,
And see what gars her greet.

27
'What ails ye, what ails ye, Fair Annie,
That ye make sic a moan?
Has your wine barrels cast the girds,
Or is your white bread gone?

28
'O wha was't was your father, Annie,
Or wha was't was your mother?
And had ye ony sister, Annie,
Or had ye ony brother?'

29
'The Earl of Wemyss was my father,
The Countess of Wemyss my mother;
And a' the folk about the house
To me were sister and brother.'

30
'If the Earl of Wemyss was your father,
I wot sae was he mine;
And it shall not be for lack o gowd
That ye your love sall tyne.

31
'For I have seven ships o mine ain,
A' loaded to the brim,
And I will gie them a' to thee,
Wi four to thine eldest son:
But thanks to a' the powers in heaven
That I gae maiden hame!'

B

Jamieson's Popular Ballads, II, 376, from the recitation
of Mrs Arrot, of Aberbrothick.

1
There livd a lord on yon sea-side,
And he thought on a wile,
How he would go over the saut sea
A lady to beguile.

2
'O learn to mak your bed, Helen,
And learn to ly your lane,
For I'm gaun over the saut seas
A bright bride to bring hame.'

3
'How can I mak my bed,' she says,
'Unless I mak it wide,
Whan I have seven o your sons
To lie down by my side?

4
'And the first o your seven sons,
He rides a milk-white steed;
The second o your seven sons
He wears a milk-white weed.

5
'The third ane o your seven sons,
He draws baith ale and wine;
The fourth ane o your seven sons,
He serves you when you dine.

6
'The fifth ane o your seven sons,
He can baith read and write;
And the sixth ane o your seven sons,
He is a' your heart's delight.

7
'And the youngest o your seven sons,
He sleeps on my breast-bane;
Whan him and I ly down at night,
For him rest get I nane.'

8
'O wha will bake my bridal bread,
And brew my bridal ale?
And wha will welcome my gae lady,
That I bring oer the dale?

9
'And sin ye've taen the turn in hand,
See that ye do it right,
And ilka chimly o the house,
That they be dearly dight.'

10
O a' the day she washd and wrang,
And a' the night she buik,
And she's awa to her chamber,
To gie her young son suck.

11
'Come here, come here, my eldest son,
And see what ye may see;
For yonder comes your father dear,
Your mother-in-law side be.'

12
She's taen a cake o the best bread,
A bottle o the best wine,
And a' the keys upon her arm,
And to the yates she's gaen.

13
'Ye are welcome hame, gay lady,' she said,
'And ay ye are welcome hame;
And sae is a' the gentlewomen
That's wi you ridden and gane.

14
'You are welcome hame, gay lord' she said,
'And ay ye are welcome hame;
And sae is a' the gentlemen
That's wi you ridden and gane.'

15
She saird them up, she saird them down,
She saird them till and frae;
But when she went behind their backs,
The tear did blind her ee.

16
Whan day was gane, and night was come,
And a' man boun to bed,
The bridegroom and the bonny bride
In their chamber was laid.

17
Burd Helen and her seven sons
Lay in a bower near by;
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

18
'If my seven sons were seven grey ratts,
To rin frae wa to wa,
And I mysel a good grey cat,
I would bite their back a-twa.

19
'If my seven sons were seven grey hares,
And them to rin a race,
And I mysel a good greyhound,
I would gie them a chace.'

20
Up and spak the bonny bride,
In chamber where she lay:
'There is a lady in this bower,
She will gae mad or day.'

21
'Lye still, lye still, my bonny bride,
Lye still and tak a sleep;
It's but ane o my wine puncheons;
Nae langer wad it keep.'

22
'King Henry was my father dear,
Queen Catherine was my mother,
Lady Anne she was my sister dear,
And Frederick was my brother.

23
'And whan I was six years of age,
They ca'd me Mary Mild;
I was stown frae my father's yate,
Whan I was but a child.'

24
Then up and spak the bonny bride,
By her lord as she lay:
'Lye down, lye down, my dear sister,
There's nae ill done for me.

25
'O seven ships conveyd me here,
And seven came oer the main;
And four o them shall stay wi you,
And three convey me hame.

26
'But when I gae hame to my father's house,
They will laugh me to scorn,
To come awa a wedded wife,
Gae hame a maid the morn.'

C

Motherwell's manuscript, p. 351, from the recitation of
Janet Holmes, an old woman in Kilbarchan, who derived the
ballad from her mother; July 18, 1825.

1
'Learn to mak your bed, honey,
And learn to lye your lane,
For I'm gaun owre the salt seas,
A fair lady to bring hame.

2
'And with her I'll get gold and gear,
With thee I neer got nane;
I took you as a waaf woman,
I leave you as the same.'

3
'What aileth thee at me, my lord,
What aileth thee at me,
When seven bonnie sons I have born,
All of your fair bodie?

4
'The eldest of your seven sons,
He can both read and write;
The second of your sons, my lord,
Can do it more perfyte.

5
'The third one of your sons, my lord,
He waters your milk-white steed;
The fourth one of your sons, my lord,
With red gold shines his weed.

6
'The fifth one of your sons, my lord,
He serves you when you dine;
The sixth one now you do behold,
How he walks out and in.

7
'The seventh one of your sons, my lord,
Sucks hard at my breast-bane;
When a' the house they are at rest,
For him I can get nane.

8
'And if you leave me thus forlorn,
A wainless wife I'll be,
For anybody's gold or gear
That is beyond the sea.'

9
'O wha will bake my bridal bread,
Or wha will brew my ale?
Or wha will cook my kitchen neat,
Or give my men their meal?'

10
'For love I'll bake your bridal bread,
To brew your ale I'm fain,
To cook your kitchen, as I have done,
Till you return again.'

11
'O wha will bake my bridal bread,
Or wha will brew my ale?
Or wha will welcome my braw bride,
That I bring owre the dale?'

12
'For love I'll bake your bridal bread,
For love I'll brew your ale,
And I will welcome your braw bride
That you bring owre the dale.'

13
Her mind she keeped, but sair she weepd
The time that he was gane
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

14
'Go up, go up, my eldest son,
Go to the upmost ha,
And see if you see your father coming,
With your mother-to-be-in-law.'

15
'Put on, put on, O mother dear,
Put on your gouns so braw,
For yonder is my father coming,
With my mother-to-be-in-law.'

16
She's taen the wheat-bread in one hand,
The red wines, which plenty were,
And she's gane to the outmost gate,
And bid them welcome there.

17
'You're welcome here, my brother dear,
Ye're welcome, brother John;
Ye're welcome a' my brethern dear,
That has this journey gone.'

18
'I thank you, sister Annie,' he says,
'And I thank you heartilie,
And as you've welcomed home myself,
You'll welcome my fair ladye.'

19
'If I had roses to my feet,
And ribbons to my gown,
And as leal a maid as your braw bride,
I would speak without a frown.'

20
He's given her roses to her feet,
And ribbons to her gown,
And she has welcomed his braw bride,
But weel that was her own!

21
'I thank you, sister Annie,' she says,
'I thank you heartilie,
And if I be seven years about this place,
Rewarded you shall be.'

22
She served them up, she served them down,
And she served all their cries,
And aye as she came down the stair
The tears fell from her eyes.

23
When mass was sung, and all bells rung,
And all men boune for bed,
The good lord and his fair lady
Were in their chamber laid.

24
But poor Annie and her seven sons
Was in a room hard by,
And as she lay she sighed and wept,
And thus began to cry:

25
'O were my sons transformed to cats,
To speel this castle wa,
And I mysell a red blood-hound
That I might worry them a'!'

26
The bride she overhearing all,
And sair she rued her fate:
'Awauk, awauk, my lord,' she said,
'Awauk, for well you may;
For there's a woman in this gate
That will go mad ere day.

27
'I fear she is a leman of thine,
And a leman meek and mild;
Get up and pack her down the stairs,
Tho the woods were neer sae wild.'

28
'O yes, she is a leman of mine,
And a leman meek and kind,
And I will not pack her down the stairs,
For a' the gear that's thine.'

29
'O wha's your father, Ann?' she says,
'Or wha's your mother dear?
Or wha's your sister, Ann?' she says,
'Or brother? let me hear.'

30
'King Easter he's my father dear,
The Queen my mother was;
John Armstrang, in the west-airt lands,
My eldest brother is.'

31
'Then I'm your sister, Ann,' she says,
'And I'm a full sister to thee;
You were stolen awa when very young,
By the same lord's treacherie.

32
'I've seven ships upon the sea,
All loaded to the brim,
And five of them I'll give to thee,
And twa shall carry me hame.

33
'My mother shall mak my tocher up,
When I tell her how you thrive;
For we never knew where you was gone,
Or if you was alive.'

D

Herd, The Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 307.

1
'Wha will bake my bridal bread,
And brew my bridal ale?
And wha will welcome my brisk bride,
That I bring oer the dale?'

2
'I will bake your bridal bread,
And brew your bridal ale,
And I will welcome your brisk bride,
That you bring oer the dale.'

3
'But she that welcomes my brisk bride
Maun gang like maiden fair;
She maun lace on her robe sae jimp,
And braid her yellow hair.'

4
'But how can I gang maiden-like,
When maiden I am nane?
Have I not born seven sons to thee,
And am with child agen?'

5
She's taen her young son in her arms,
Another in her hand,
And she's up to the highest tower,
To see him come to land.

6
'You're welcome to your house, master,
You're welcome to your land;
You're welcome with your fair lady,
That you lead by the hand.'

* * * * * * *

7
And ay she servd the lang tables,
With white bread and with wine,
And ay she drank the wan water,
To had her colour fine.

8
Now he's taen down a silk napkin,
Hung on the silver pin,
And ay he wipes the tears trickling
Adown her cheek and chin.

E

Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 20; Jamieson's Popular Ballads,
II, 371.

1
'O wha will bake my bridal bread,
And brew my bridal ale?
Wha will welcome my bright bride,
That I bring oer the dale?'

2
'O I will bake your bridal bread,
An brew your bridal ale;
An I will welcome your bright bride,
That you bring oer the dale.

3
'O she that welcomes my bright bride
Maun gang like maiden fair;
She maun lace her in her green cloathin,
An braid her yallow hair.'

4
'O how can I gang maiden like,
Whan maiden I am nane?
Whan I ha born you seven sons,
An am wi bairn again?'

5
The lady stood in her bowr door
An lookit oer the lan,
An there she saw her ain good lord,
Leadin his bride by the han.

6
She's dressd her sons i the scarlet red,
Hersel i the dainty green,
An tho her cheek lookd pale and wan,
She well might ha been a queen.

7
She calld upon her eldest son:
'Look yonder what you see;
For yonder comes your father dear,
Your step-mother him wi.

8
'O you'r welcome hame, my ain good lord,
To your ha's but an your bowrs;
You'r welcome hame, my ain good lord,
To your castles an your towrs:
Sae is your bright bride you beside,
She's fairer nor the flowers.'

9
'O whatn a lady's that?' she says,
'That welcoms you an me?
If I'm lang lady about this place,
Some good I will her dee.
She looks sae like my sister Jane,
Was stoln i the bowr frae me.'

10
O she has servd the lang tables,
Wi the white bread an the wine;
But ay she drank the wan water,
To keep her colour fine.

11
An she gid by the first table,
An leugh amo them a';
But ere she reachd the second table,
She let the tears down fa.

12
She's taen a napkin lang an white,
An hung't upon a pin;
It was to dry her watry eyes,
As she went out and in.

13
Whan bells were rung, an mass was sung,
An a' man boun to bed,
The bride but an the bonny bridegroom
In ae chamber was laid.

14
She's taen her harp intill her han,
To harp this twa asleep;
An ay as she harped an she sang,
Full sorely did she weep.

15
'O seven fu fair sons I have born
To the good lord o this place,
An I wish that they were seven hares,
To run the castle race,
An I mysel a good gray houn,
An I woud gi them chase.

16
'O seven fu fair sons I have born
To the good lord o this ha;
I wish that they were seven rottons,
To rin the castle wa,
An I mysell a good gray cat,
I wot I woud worry them a'

17
'The earle o Richmond was my father,
An the lady was my mother,
An a' the bairns bisides mysel
Was a sister an a brother.'

18
'Sing on, sing on, ye gay lady,
I wot ye hae sung in time;
Gin the earle o Richmond was your father,
I wot sae was he mine.'