Chapter XIX: Part VI (1)

156

QUEEN ELEANOR’S CONFESSION

#A. a.# ‘Queen Eleanor’s Confession,’ a broadside, London, Printed for
C. Bates, at the Sun and Bible in Gilt-spur-street, near Pye-corner,
Bagford Ballads, II, No 26, British Museum (1685?). #b.# Another
broadside, Printed for C. Bates in Pye-corner, Bagford Ballads, I,
No 33 (1685?). #c.# Another copy, Printed for C. Bates, in
Pye-corner, reprinted in Utterson’s Little Book of Ballads, p. 22.
#d.# A Collection of Old Ballads, 1723, I, 18.

#B.# Skene MS., p. 39.

#C.# ‘Queen Eleanor’s Confession,’ Buchan’s Gleanings, p. 77.

#D.# ‘The Queen of England,’ Aytoun, Ballads of Scotland, 1859, I,
196.

#E.# ‘Queen Eleanor’s Confession,’ Kinloch’s Ancient Scottish Ballads,
p. 247.

#F.# ‘Earl Marshall,’ Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p. 1.

Given in Percy’s Reliques, 1765, II, 145, “from an old printed copy,” with some changes by the editor, of which the more important are in stanzas 2–4. #F#, “recovered from recitation” by Motherwell, repeats Percy’s changes in 2, 3, 10^4, and there is reason to question whether this and the other recited versions are anything more than traditional variations of printed copies. The ballad seems first to have got into print in the latter part of the seventeenth century, but was no doubt circulating orally some time before that, for it is in the truly popular tone. The fact that _two_ friars hear the confession would militate against a much earlier date. In #E# there might appear to be some consciousness of this irregularity; for the Queen sends for a single friar, and the King says he will be “a prelate old” and sit in a dark corner; but none the less does the King take an active part in the shrift.[143]

There is a Newcastle copy, “Printed and sold by Robert Marchbank, in the Customhouse-Entry,” among the Douce ballads in the Bodleian Library, 3, fol. 80, and in the Roxburghe collection, British Museum, III, 634. This is dated in the Museum catalogue 1720?

Eleanor of Aquitaine was married to Henry II of England in 1152, a few weeks after her divorce from Louis VII of France, she being then about thirty and Henry nineteen years of age. “It is needless to observe,” says Percy, “that the following ballad is altogether fabulous; whatever gallantries Eleanor encouraged in the time of her first husband, none are imputed to her in that of her second.”

In Peele’s play of Edward I, 1593, the story of this ballad is transferred from Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine to Edward Longshanks and that model of women and wives, Eleanor of Castile, together with other slanders which might less ridiculously have been invented of Henry II’s Eleanor.[144] Edward’s brother Edmund plays the part of the Earl Marshall. The Queen dies; the King bewails his loss in terms of imbecile affection, and orders crosses to be reared at all the stages of the funeral convoy. Peele’s Works, ed. Dyce, I, 184 ff.

There are several sets of tales in which a husband takes a shrift-father’s place and hears his wife’s confession. 1. A fabliau “Du chevalier qui fist sa fame confesse,” Barbazan et Méon, III, 229; Montaiglon, Recueil Général, I, 178, No 16; Legrand, Fabliaux, etc., 1829, IV, 132, with circumstances added by Legrand. 2. Les Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles, 1432, No 78; Scala Celi, 1480, fol. 49;[145] Mensa Philosophica, cited by Manni, Istoria del Decamerone, p. 476; Doni, Novelle, Lucca, 1852, Nov. xiii; Malespini, Ducento Novelle, No 92, Venice, 1609, I, 248; Kirchhof, Wendunmuth, No 245, Oesterley, II, 535; La Fontaine, “Le Mari Confesseur,” Contes, I, No 4. 3. Boccaccio, VII, 5.

In 1, 2, the husband discovers himself after the confession; in 3 he is recognized by the wife before she begins her shrift, which she frames to suit her purposes. In all these, the wife, on being reproached with the infidelity which she had revealed, tells the husband that she knew all the while that he was the confessor, and gives an ingenious turn to her apparently compromising disclosures which satisfies him of her innocence. All these tales have the cynical Oriental character, and, to a healthy taste, are far surpassed by the innocuous humor of the English ballad.

Oesterley, in his notes to Kirchhof, V, 103, cites a number of German story-books in which the tale may, in some form, be found; also Hans Sachs, 4, 3, 7b.[146] In Bandello, Parte Prima, No 9, a husband, not disguising himself, prevails upon a priest to let him overhear his wife’s confession, and afterwards kills her.

Svend Grundtvig informed me that he had six copies of an evidently recent (and very bad) translation of Percy’s ballad, taken down from recitation in different parts of Denmark. In one of these Queen Eleanor is exchanged for a Queen of Norway. Percy’s ballad is also translated by Bodmer, II, 40; Ursinus, p. 59; Talvj, Charakteristik, p. 513; Döring, p. 373; Knortz, L. u. R. Alt-Englands, No 51.

A

#a.# A broadside, London, Printed for C. Bates, at the Sun & Bible
in Gilt-spur-street, near Pye-corner, Bagford Ballads, II, No 26,
1685? #b.# A broadside, Printed for C. Bates, in Pye-corner, Bagford
Ballads, I, No 33, 1685? #c.# Another copy of b, reprinted in
Utterson’s Little Book of Ballads, p. 22. #d.# A Collection of Old
Ballads, 1723, I, 18.

1
Queen Elenor was a sick woman,
And afraid that she should dye;
Then she sent for two fryars of France,
For to speak with them speedily.

2
The King calld down his nobles all,
By one, by two, and by three,
And sent away for Earl Martial,
For to speak with him speedily.

3
When that he came before the King,
He fell on his bended knee;
‘A boon, a boon! our gracious king,
That you sent so hastily.’

4
‘I’ll pawn my living and my lands,
My septer and my crown,
That whatever Queen Elenor says,
I will not write it down.

5
‘Do you put on one fryar’s coat,
And I’ll put on another,
And we will to Queen Elenor go,
One fryar like another.’

6
Thus both attired then they go;
When they came to Whitehall,
The bells they did ring, and the quiristers sing,
And the torches did light them all.

7
When that they came before the Queen,
They fell on their bended knee:
‘A boon, a boon! our gracious queen,
That you sent so hastily.’

8
‘Are you two fryars of France?’ she said,
‘Which I suppose you be;
But if you are two English fryars,
Then hanged shall you be.’

9
‘We are two fryars of France,’ they said,
‘As you suppose we be;
We have not been at any mass
Since we came from the sea.’

10
‘The first vile thing that ere I did
I will to you unfold;
Earl Martial had my maidenhead,
Underneath this cloath of gold.’

11
‘That is a vile sin,’ then said the king,
‘God may forgive it thee!’
‘Amen! Amen!’ quoth Earl Martial,
With a heavy heart then spoke he.

12
‘The next vile thing that ere I did
To you I’ll not deny;
I made a box of poyson strong,
To poyson King Henry.’

13
‘That is a vile sin,’ then said the King,
‘God may forgive it thee!’
‘Amen! Amen!’ quoth Earl Martial,
‘And I wish it so may be.’

14
‘The next vile thing that ere I did
To you I will discover;
I poysoned Fair Rosamond,
All in fair Woodstock bower.’

15
‘That is a vile sin,’ then said the King,
‘God may forgive it thee!’
‘Amen! Amen!’ quoth Earl Martial,
‘And I wish it so may be.’

16
‘Do you see yonders little boy,
A tossing of that ball?
That is Earl Martialś eldest son,
And I love him the best of all.

17
‘Do you see yonders little boy,
A catching of the ball?
That is King Henry’s son,’ she said,
‘And I love him the worst of all.

18
‘His head is like unto a bull,
His nose is like a boar;’
‘No matter for that,’ King Henry said,
‘I love him the better therefore.’

19
The King pulld of his fryar’s coat,
And appeard all in red;
She shriekd and she cry’d, she wrong her hands,
And said she was betrayd.

20
The King lookd over his left shoulder,
And a grim look looked he,
And said, Earl Martial, but for my oath,
Then hanged shouldst thou be.

B

Skene MS., p. 39.

1
Our queen’s sick, an very sick,
She’s sick an like to die;
She has sent for the friars of France,
To speak wi her speedilie.

2
‘I’ll put on a friar’s robe,
An ye’ll put on anither,
An we’ll go to Madam the Queen,
Like friars bath thegither.’

3
‘God forbid,’ said Earl Marishall,
‘That ever the like shud be,
That I beguile Madam the Queen!
I wad be hangit hie.’

4
The King pat on a friar’s robe,
Earl Marishall on anither;
They’re on to the Queen,
Like friars baith thegither.

5
‘Gin ye be the friars of France,
As I trust well ye be—
But an ye be ony ither men,
Ye sall be hangit hie.’

6
The King he turnd him roun,
An by his troth sware he,
We hae na sung messe
Sin we came frae the sea.

7
‘The first sin ever I did,
An a very great sin ’twas tee,
I gae my maidenhead to Earl Marishall,
Under the greenwood tree.’

8
‘That was a sin, an a very great sin,
But pardond it may be;’
‘Wi mendiment,’ said Earl Marishall,
But a heavy heart had he.

9
‘The next sin ever I did,
An a very great sin ’twas tee,
I poisened Lady Rosamond,
An the King’s darling was she.’

10
‘That was a sin, an a very great sin,
But pardond it may be;’
‘Wi mendiment,’ said King Henry,
But a heavy heart had he.

11
‘The next sin ever I did,
An a very great sin ’twas tee,
I keepit poison in my bosom seven years,
To poison him King Henrie.’

12
‘That was a sin, an a very great sin,
But pardond it may be;’
‘Wi mendiment,’ said King Henry,
But a heavy heart had he.

13
‘O see na ye yon bonny boys,
As they play at the ba?
An see na ye Lord Marishal’s son?
I lee him best of a’.

14
‘But see na ye King Henry’s son?
He’s headit like a bull, and backit like a boar,
I like him warst awa:’
‘And by my sooth,’ says him King Henry,
‘I like him best o the twa.’

15
The King he turned him roun,
Pat on the coat o goud,
. . . . . . .
The Queen turnd the King to behold.

16
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
‘Gin I hadna sworn by the crown and sceptre roun,
Earl Marishal sud been gart die.’

C

Buchan’s Gleanings, p. 77.

1
The Queen’s faen sick, and very, very sick,
Sick, and going to die,
And she’s sent for twa friars of France,
To speak with her speedilie.

2
The King he said to the Earl Marischal,
To the Earl Marischal said he,
The Queen she wants twa friars frae France,
To speak with her presentlie.

3
Will ye put on a friar’s coat,
And I’ll put on another,
And we’ll go in before the Queen,
Like friars both together.

4
‘But O forbid,’ said the Earl Marischal,
‘That I this deed should dee!
For if I beguile Eleanor our queen,
She will gar hang me hie.’

5
The King he turned him round about,
An angry man was he;
He’s sworn by his sceptre and his sword
Earl Marischal should not die.

6
The King has put on a friar’s coat,
Earl Marischal on another,
And they went in before the Queen,
Like friars both together.

7
‘O, if ye be twa friars of France,
Ye’re dearly welcome to me;
But if ye be twa London friars,
I will gar hang you hie.’

8
‘Twa friars of France, twa friars of France,
Twa friars of France are we,
And we vow we never spoke to a man
Till we spake to Your Majesty.’

9
‘The first great sin that eer I did,
And I’ll tell you it presentlie,
Earl Marischal got my maidenhead,
When coming oer the sea.’

10
‘That was a sin, and a very great sin,
But pardoned it may be;’
‘All that with amendment,’ said Earl Marischal,
But a quacking heart had he.

11
‘The next great sin that eer I did,
I’ll tell you it presentlie;
I carried a box seven years in my breast,
To poison King Henrie.’

12
‘O that was a sin, and a very great sin,
But pardoned it may be;’
‘All that with amendment,’ said Earl Marischal,
But a quacking heart had he.

13
‘The next great sin that eer I did,
I’ll tell you it presentlie;
I poisoned the Lady Rosamond,
And a very good woman was she.

14
‘See ye not yon twa bonny boys,
As they play at the ba?
The eldest of them is Marischal’s son,
And I love him best of a’;
The youngest of them is Henrie’s son,
And I love him none at a’

15
‘For he is headed like a bull, a bull,
He is backed like a boar;’
‘Then by my sooth,’ King Henrie said,
‘I love him the better therefor.’

16
The King has cast off his friar’s coat,
Put on a coat of gold;
The Queen she’s turned her face about,
She could not ’s face behold.

17
The King then said to Earl Marischal,
To the Earl Marischal said he,
Were it not for my sceptre and sword,
Earl Marischall, ye should die.

D

Aytoun’s Ballads of Scotland, 2d edition, I, 196, from the
recitation of a lady residing in Kirkcaldy; learned of her mother.

1
The queen of England she has fallen sick,
Sore sick, and like to die;
And she has sent for twa French priests,
To bear her companie.

2
The King he has got word o this,
And an angry man was he;
And he is on to the Earl-a-Marshall,
As fast as he can gae.

3
‘Now you’ll put on a priest’s robe,
And I’ll put on anither,
And we will on unto the Queen,
Like twa French priests thegither.’

4
‘No indeed!’ said the Earl-a-Marshall,
‘That winna I do for thee,
Except ye swear by your sceptre and crown
Ye’ll do me nae injurie.’

5
The King has sworn by his sceptre and crown
He’ll do him nae injurie,
And they are on unto the Queen,
As fast as they can gae.

6
‘O, if that ye be twa French priests,
Ye’re welcome unto me;
But if ye be twa Scottish lords,
High hanged ye shall be.

7
‘The first sin that I did sin,
And that to you I’ll tell,
I sleeped wi the Earl-a-Marshall,
Beneath a silken bell.

8
‘And wasna that a sin, and a very great sin?
And I pray ye pardon me;’
‘Amen, and amen!’ said the Earl-a-Marshall,
And a wearied man was he.

9
‘The neist sin that I did sin,
And that to you I’ll tell,
I keeped the poison seven years in my bosom,
To poison the King himsel.

10
‘And wasna that a sin, and a very great sin?
And I pray ye pardon me;’
‘Amen, and amen!’ said the Earl-a-Marshall,
And a wearied man was he.

11
‘O see ye there my seven sons,
A’playing at the ba?
There’s but ane o them the King’s himsel,
And I like him warst of a’.

12
‘He’s high-backed, and low-breasted,
And he is bald withal;’
‘And by my deed,’ and says the King,
‘I like him best mysel!

13
‘O wae betide ye, Earl-a-Marshall,
And an ill death may ye die!
For if I hadna sworn by my sceptre and crown,
High hanged ye should be.’

E

Kinloch’s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 247.

1
The Queen fell sick, and very, very sick,
She was sick, and like to dee,
And she sent for a friar oure frae France,
Her confessour to be.

2
King Henry, when he heard o that,
An angry man was he,
And he sent to the Earl Marshall,
Attendance for to gie.

3
‘The Queen is sick,’ King Henry cried,
‘And wants to be beshriven;
She has sent for a friar oure frae France;
By the rude, he were better in heaven!

4
‘But tak you now a friar’s guise,
The voice and gesture feign,
And when she has the pardon crav’d,
Respond to her, Amen!

5
‘And I will be a prelate old,
And sit in a corner dark,
To hear the adventures of my spouse,
My spouse, and her haly spark.’

6
‘My liege, my liege, how can I betray
My mistress and my queen?
O swear by the rude that no damage
From this shall be gotten or gien!’

7
‘I swear by the rude,’ quoth King Henry,
‘No damage shall be gotten or gien;
Come, let us spare no cure nor care
For the conscience o the Queen.’

* * * * *

8
‘O fathers, O fathers, I’m very, very sick,
I’m sick, and like to dee;
Some ghostly comfort to my poor soul
O tell if ye can gie!’

9
‘Confess, confess,’ Earl Marshall cried,
‘And you shall pardoned be;’
‘Confess, confess,’ the King replied,
‘And we shall comfort gie.’

10
‘Oh, how shall I tell the sorry, sorry tale!
How can the tale be told!
I playd the harlot wi the Earl Marshall,
Beneath yon cloth of gold.

11
‘Oh, wasna that a sin, and a very great sin?
But I hope it will pardoned be;’
‘Amen! Amen!’ quoth the Earl Marshall,
And a very feart heart had he.

12
‘O down i the forest, in a bower,
Beyond yon dark oak-tree,
I drew a penknife frae my pocket
To kill King Henerie.

13
‘Oh, wasna that a sin, and a very great sin?
But I hope it will pardoned be;’
‘Amen! Amen!’ quoth the Earl Marshall,
And a very feart heart had he.

14
‘O do you see yon pretty little boy,
That’s playing at the ba?
He is the Earl Marshall’s only son,
And I loved him best of a’.

15
‘Oh, wasna that a sin, and a very great sin?
But I hope it will pardoned be;’
‘Amen! Amen!’ quoth the Earl Marshall,
And a very feart heart had he.

16
‘And do you see yon pretty little girl,
That’s a’beclad in green?
She’s a friar’s daughter, oure in France,
And I hoped to see her a queen.

17
‘Oh, wasna that a sin, and a very great sin?
But I hope it will pardoned be;’
‘Amen! Amen!’ quoth the Earl Marshall,
And a feart heart still had he.

18
‘O do you see yon other little boy,
That’s playing at the ba?
He is King Henry’s only son,
And I like him warst of a’.

19
‘He’s headed like a buck,’ she said,
‘And backed like a bear;’
‘Amen!’ quoth the King, in the King’s ain voice,
‘He shall be my only heir.’

20
The King lookd over his left shoulder,
An angry man was he:
‘An it werna for the oath I sware,
Earl Marshall, thou shouldst dee.’

F

Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p. 1; from recitation.

1
Queene Eleanor was a sick woman,
And sick just like to die,
And she has sent for two fryars of France,
To come to her speedilie.
And she has sent, etc.

2
The King called downe his nobles all,
By one, by two, by three:
‘Earl Marshall, I’ll go shrive the Queene,
And thou shalt wend with mee.’

3
‘A boone, a boone!’ quoth Earl Marshall,
And fell on his bended knee,
‘That whatsoever the Queene may say,
No harm thereof may bee.’

4
‘O you’ll put on a gray-friar’s gowne,
And I’ll put on another,
And we will away to fair London town,
Like friars both together.’

5
‘O no, O no, my liege, my king,
Such things can never bee;
For if the Queene hears word of this,
Hanged she’ll cause me to bee.’

6
‘I swear by the sun, I swear by the moon,
And by the stars so hie,
And by my sceptre and my crowne,
The Earl Marshall shall not die.’

7
The King’s put on a gray-friar’s gowne,
The Earl Marshall’s put on another,
And they are away to fair London towne,
Like fryars both together.

8
When that they came to fair London towne,
And came into Whitehall,
The bells did ring, and the quiristers sing,
And the torches did light them all.

9
And when they came before the Queene,
They kneeled down on their knee:
‘What matter, what matter, our gracious queene,
You’ve sent so speedilie?’

10
‘O, if you are two fryars of France,
It’s you that I wished to see;
But if you are two English lords,
You shall hang on the gallowes-tree.’

11
‘O we are not two English lords,
But two fryars of France we bee,
And we sang the Song of Solomon,
As we came over the sea.’

12
‘Oh, the first vile sin I did commit
Tell it I will to thee;
I fell in love with the Earl Marshall,
As he brought me over the sea.’

13
‘Oh, that was a great sin,’ quoth the King,
‘But pardond it must bee;’
‘Amen! Amen!’ said the Earl Marshall,
With a heavie heart spake hee.

14
‘Oh, the next sin that I did commit
I will to you unfolde;
Earl Marshall had my virgin dower,
Beneath this cloth of golde.’

15
‘Oh, that was a vile sin,’ said the King,
‘May God forgive it thee!’
‘Amen! Amen!’ groaned the Earl Marshall,
And a very frightened man was hee.

16
‘Oh, the next sin that I did commit
Tell it I will to thee;
I poisoned a lady of noble blood,
For the sake of King Henrie.’

17
‘Oh, that was a great sin,’ said the King,
‘But pardoned it shall bee;’
‘Amen! Amen!’ said the Earl Marshall,
And still a frightened man was he.

18
‘Oh, the next sin that ever I did
Tell it I will to thee;
I have kept strong poison this seven long years,
To poison King Henrie.’

19
‘Oh, that was a great sin,’ said the King,
‘But pardoned it must bee;’
‘Amen! Amen!’ said the Earl Marshall,
And still a frightened man was hee.

20
‘O don’t you see two little boys,
Playing at the football?
O yonder is the Earl Marshall’s son,
And I like him best of all.

21
‘O don’t you see yon other little boy,
Playing at the football?
O that one is King Henrie’s son,
And I like him worst of all.

22
‘His head is like a black bull’s head,
His feet are like a bear;’
‘What matter! what matter!’ cried the King,
‘He’s my son, and my only heir.’

23
The King plucked off his fryar’s gowne,
And stood in his scarlet so red;
The Queen she turned herself in bed,
And cryed that she was betrayde.

24
The King lookt oer his left shoulder,
And a grim look looked he;
‘Earl Marshall,’ he said, ‘but for my oath,
Thou hadst swung on the gallowes-tree.’

* * * * *

#A. a.#

Queen Eleanor’s Confession: Shewing how King Henry, with the Earl
Martial, in Fryars Habits, came to her, instead of two Fryars
from France, which she sent for. To a pleasant New Tune. _Both
#a# and #b# are dated in the Museum Catalogue 1670?_ “C. Bates,
at Sun & Bible, near St. Sepulchre’s Church, in Pye Corner,
1685.” _Chappell._

10^1. thta ere.

14^2. disdover.

17^1. younders.

#b.#

_Title the same, except_ came to see her.

16^3. Martial’s.

17^1. see then yonders.

20^1. his let.

#c.#

_Title as in #a#._

4^3. whatsoever.

8^4. you shall.

16^2. catching of the.

16^3. Marshal’s.

17^1. see then yonders.

#d.#

Queen Eleanor’s Confession to the Two supposed Fryars of France.

1^4. To speak with her.

2^2. and _wanting_.

2^4. For _wanting_.

4^1. I’ll pawn my lands the King then cry’d.

4^3. whatsoere.

5^1. on a.

5^4. Like fryar and his brother.

6^3. they _wanting_.

7^4. you.

8^2. As I.

10^4. Beneath this.

11^1, 13^1, 15^1. That’s.

11^4. then _wanting_.

16^2. of the.

16^3. Marshal’s.

16^4, 17^4. And _wanting_.

18^3. Henry cry’d.

19^3. shriekd, she cry’d, and wrung.

20^4. Or hanged.

#E.#

14^4. loved; love _in Kinloch’s annotated copy_.

#F.#

10^1, 11^1, 20^{1,3}, 21^{1,3}. Oh.

157

GUDE WALLACE

#A.# ‘On an honourable Achievement of Sir William Wallace, near
Falkirk,’ a chap-book of Four New Songs and a Prophecy, 1745?
Johnson’s Museum, ed. 1853, D. Laing’s additions, IV, 458 *;
Maidment’s Scotish Ballads and Songs, 1859, p. 83.

#B.# ‘Sir William Wallace,’ communicated to Percy by Robert Lambe, of
Norham, probably in 1768.

#C.# ‘Gude Wallace,’ Johnson’s Museum, p. 498, No 484, communicated by
Robert Burns.

#D.# ‘Gude Wallace,’ communicated to Robert Chambers by Elliot
Anderson, 1827.

#E.# ‘Willie Wallace,’communicated to James Telfer by A. Fisher.

#F.# ‘Willie Wallace,’ Buchan’s Gleanings, p. 114.

#G.# ‘Sir William Wallace,’ Alexander Laing’s Thistle of Scotland, p.
100; Motherwell’s MS., p. 487.

#H.# ‘Wallace and his Leman,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of
Scotland, II, 226.

#C# is reprinted by Finlay, I, 103. It is made the basis of a long ballad by Jamieson, II, 166, and serves as a thread for Cunningham’s ‘Gude Wallace,’ Scottish Songs, I, 262.[147] #F# is repeated by Motherwell, Minstrelsy, p. 364, and by Aytoun, I, 54. A copy in the Laing MSS, University of Edinburgh, Div. II, 358, is #C#.

Blind Harry’s Wallace (of about 1460, earlier than 1488) is clearly the source of this ballad. #A-F# are derived from vv 1080–1119 of the Fifth Book. Here Wallace, on his way to a hostelry with a comrade, met a woman, who counselled them to pass by, if Scots, for southrons were there, drinking and talking of Wallace; twenty are there, making great din, but no man of fence. “Wallace went in and bad Benedicite.” The captain said, Thou art a Scot, the devil thy nation quell. Wallace drew, and ran the captain through; “fifteen he straik and fifteen has he slayn;” his comrade killed the other five.

The story of #A-E# is sufficiently represented by that of #A#. Wallace comes upon a woman washing, and asks her for tidings. There are fifteen Englishmen at the hostelry seeking Wallace. Had he money he would go thither. She tells him out twenty shillings (for which he takes off _both_ hat and hood, and thanks her reverently). He bows himself over a staff and enters the hostelry, saying, Good ben be here (in #C#, he bad Benedicite, in the words of Blind Harry). The captain asks the crooked carl where he was born, and the carl answers that he is a Scot. The captain offers the carl twenty shillings for a sight of Wallace. The carl wants no better bode, or offer.[148] He strikes the captain such a blow over the jaws that he will never eat more, and sticks the rest. Then he bids the goodwife get him food, for he has eaten nothing for two days. Ere the meal is ready, fifteen other Englishmen light at the door. These he soon disposes of, sticking five, trampling five in the gutter, and hanging five in the wood.

#F# makes Wallace change clothes with a beggar, and ask charity at the inn. He kills his thirty men between eight and four, and then returning to the North-Inch (a common lying along the Tay, near Perth) finds the maid who was washing her lilie hands in st. 3 still “washing tenderlie.” He pulls out twenty of the fifty pounds which he got from the captain, and hands them over to the maid for the good luck of her half-crown.

#G# has the change of clothes with the beggar, found in #F#, and prefixes to the story of the other versions another adventure of Wallace, taken from the Fourth Book of Blind Harry, vv 704–87. Wallace’s enemies have seen him leaving his mistress’s house. They seize her, threaten to burn her unless she ‘tells,’ and promise to marry her to a knight if she will help to bring the rebel down. Wallace returns, and she seeks to detain him, but he says he must go back to his men. Hereupon she falls to weeping, and ends with confessing her treason. He asks her if she repents; she says that to mend the miss she would burn on a hill, and is forgiven. Wallace puts on her gown and curches, hiding his sword under his weed, tells the armed men who are watching for him that Wallace is locked in, and makes good speed out of the gate. Two men follow him, for he seems to be a stalwart quean; Wallace turns on them and kills them. This is Blind Harry’s story, and it will be observed to be followed closely in the ballad, with the addition of a pitcher in each hand to complete the female disguise, and two more southrons to follow and be killed. The first half of this version is plainly a late piece of work, very possibly of this century, much later than the other, which itself need not be very old. But the portions of Blind Harry’s poem out of which these ballads were made were perhaps themselves composed from older ballads, and the restitution of the lyrical form may have given us something not altogether unlike what was sung in the fifteenth, or even the fourteenth, century. The fragment #H# is, as far as it goes, a repetition of #G#.

Bower (1444–49) says that after the battle of Roslyn, 1298, Wallace took ship and went to France, distinguishing himself by his valor against pirates on the sea and against the English on the continent, as ballads both in France and Scotland testify.[149] A fragment of a ballad relating to Wallace is preserved in Constable’s MS. Cantus: Leyden’s Complaynt of Scotland, p. 226.

Wallace parted his men in three
And sundrie gaits are gone.

#C# is translated by Arndt, Blütenlese, p. 198; #F# by Knortz, Schottische Balladen, p. 69, No 22.

A

A chap-book of Four New Songs and a Prophecy, 1745? The Scots
Musical Museum, 1853, D. Laing’s additions, IV, 458 *; Maidment,
Scotish Ballads and Songs, 1859, p. 83.

1
‘Had we a king,’ said Wallace then,
‘That our kind Scots might live by their own!
But betwixt me and the English blood
I think there is an ill seed sown.’

2
Wallace him over a river lap,
He lookd low down to a linn;
He was war of a gay lady
Was even at the well washing.

3
‘Well mot ye fare, fair madam,’ he said,
‘And ay well mot ye fare and see!
Have ye any tidings me to tell,
I pray you’ll show them unto me.’

4
‘I have no tidings you to tell,
Nor yet no tidings you to ken;
But into that hostler’s house
There’s fifteen of your Englishmen.

5
‘And they are seeking Wallace there,
For they’ve ordained him to be slain:’
‘O God forbid!’ said Wallace then,
‘For he’s oer good a kind Scotsman.

6
‘But had I money me upon,
And evn this day, as I have none,
Then would I to that hostler’s house,
And evn as fast as I could gang.’

7
She put her hand in her pocket,
She told him twenty shillings oer her knee;
Then he took off both hat and hood,
And thankd the lady most reverently.

8
‘If eer I come this way again,
Well paid [your] money it shall be;’
Then he took off both hat and hood,
And he thankd the lady most reverently.

9
He leand him twofold oer a staff,
So did he threefold oer a tree,
And he’s away to the hostler’s house,
Even as fast as he might dree.

10
When he came to the hostler’s house,
He said, Good-ben be here! quoth he:
An English captain, being deep load,
He asked him right cankerdly,

11
Where was you born, thou crooked carle,
And in what place, and what country?
’Tis I was born in fair Scotland,
A crooked carle although I be.’

12
The English captain swore by th’ rood,
‘We are Scotsmen as well as thee,
And we are seeking Wallace; then
To have him merry we should be.’

13
‘The man,’ said Wallace, ‘ye’re looking for,
I seed him within these days three;
And he has slain an English captain,
And ay the fearder the rest may be.’

14
‘I’d give twenty shillings,’ said the captain,
‘To such a crooked carle as thee,
If you would take me to the place
Where that I might proud Wallace see.’

15
‘Hold out your hand,’ said Wallace then,
‘And show your money and be free,
For tho you’d bid an hundred pound,
I never bade a better bode,’ [said he].

16
He struck the captain oer the chafts,
Till that he never chewed more;
He stickd the rest about the board,
And left them all a sprawling there.

17
‘Rise up, goodwife,’ said Wallace then,
‘And give me something for to eat;
For it’s near two days to an end
Since I tasted one bit of meat.’

18
His board was scarce well covered,
Nor yet his dine well scantly dight,
Till fifteen other Englishmen
Down all about the door did light.

19
‘Come out, come out,’ said they, ‘Wallace!’ then,
‘For the day is come that ye must die;’
And they thought so little of his might,
But ay the fearder they might be.

20
The wife ran but, the gudeman ran ben,
It put them all into a fever;
Then five he sticked where they stood,
And five he trampled in the gutter.

21
And five he chased to yon green wood,
He hanged them all out-oer a grain;
And gainst the morn at twelve o’clock,
He dined with his kind Scottish men.

B

Communicated to Percy by R. Lambe, of Norham, apparently in 1768.

1
‘I wish we had a king,’ says Wallace,
‘That Scotland might not want a head;
In England and in Scotland baith,
I’m sure that some have sowed ill seed.’

2
Wallace he oer the water did luke,
And he luked law down by a glen,
And he was aware of a gay lady,
As she was at the well washing.

3
‘Weel may ye save, fair lady!’ he says,
‘Far better may ye save and see!
If ye have ony tidings to tell,
I pray cum tell them a’to me.’

4
‘I have no tidings you to tell,
And as few tidings do I ken;
But up and to yon ostler-house
Are just gane fifteen gentlemen.

5
‘They now are seeking Gude Wallace,
And ay they’re damning him to hang;’
‘Oh God forbid,’ says Wallace then,
‘I’m sure he is a true Scotsman.

6
‘Had I but ae penny in my pocket,
Or in my company ae baubee,
I woud up to yon ostler-house,
A’these big gentlemen to see.’

7
She pat her hand into her pocket,
She powd out twenty shillings and three:
‘If eer I live to come this way,
Weel payed shall your money be.’

8
He leaned him twafold oer a staff,
Sae did he twafold oer a tree,
And he’s gane up to the ostler-house,
A’these fine gentlemen to see.

9
When he cam up among them a’,
He bad his benison be there;
The captain, being weel buke-learnd,
Did answer him in domineer.

10
‘Where was ye born, ye cruked carl,
Or in what town, or what countree?’
‘O I was born in fair Scotland,
A cruked carl although I be.’

11
The captain sware by the root of his sword,
Saying, I’m a Scotsman as weel as thee;
Here’s twenty shillings of English money
To such a cruked carl as thee,
If thou’ll tell me of that Wallace;
He’s ay the creature I want to see.

12
‘O hawd your hand,’ says Wallace then,
‘I’m feard your money be not gude;
If ’twere as muckle and ten times mair,
It shoud not bide anither bode.’

13
He’s taen the captain alang the chaps,
A wat he never chawed mair;
The rest he sticked about the table,
And left them a’a sprawling there.

14
‘Gude wife,’ he said, ‘for my benison,
Get up and get my dinner dight;
For it is twa days till an end
Syne I did taste ane bit of meat.’

15
Dinner was not weel made ready,
Nor yet upon the table set,
When fifteen other Englishmen
Alighted all about the yate.

16
‘Come out, come out now, Wallace,’ they say,
‘For this is the day ye are to dee;
Ye trust sae mickle in God’s might,
And ay the less we do fear thee.’

17
The gude wife ran but, the gude man ran ben,
They pat the house all in a swither;
Five sune he sticked where he stude,
And five he smitherd in a gutter.

18
Five he chac’d to the gude green-wood,
And hanged them a’out-oer a pin;
And at the morn at eight o’clock
He din’d with his men at Lough-mabin.

C

Johnson’s Museum, p. 498, No 484, communicated by Robert Burns.

1
‘O For my ain king,’ quo Gude Wallace,
‘The rightfu king of fair Scotland!
Between me and my soverign blude
I think I see some ill seed sawn.’

2
Wallace out over yon river he lap,
And he has lighted low down on yon plain,
And he was aware of a gay ladie,
As she was at the well washing.

3
‘What tydins, what tydins, fair lady?’ he says,
‘What tydins hast thou to tell unto me?
What tydins, what tydins, fair lady?’ he says,
‘What tydins hae ye in the south countrie?’

4
‘Low down in yon wee ostler-house
There is fyfteen Englishmen,
And they are seekin for Gude Wallace,
It’s him to take and him to hang.’

5
‘There’s nocht in my purse,’ quo Gude Wallace,
‘There’s nocht, not even a bare pennie;
But I will down to yon wee ostler-house,
Thir fyfteen Englishmen to see.’

6
And when he cam to yon wee ostler-house
He bad bendicite be there;
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

7
‘Where was ye born, auld crookit carl?
Where was ye born, in what countrie?’
‘I am a true Scot born and bred,
And an auld crookit carl just sic as ye see.’

8
‘I wad gie fifteen shillings to onie crookit carl,
To onie crookit carl just sic as ye,
If ye will get me Gude Wallace;
For he is the man I wad very fain see.’

9
He hit the proud captain alang the chafft-blade,
That never a bit o meal he ate mair;
And he sticket the rest at the table where they sat,
And he left them a’lyin sprawlin there.

10
‘Get up, get up, gudewife,’ he says,
‘And get to me some dinner in haste;
For it will soon be three lang days
Sin I a bit o meat did taste.’

11
The dinner was na weel readie,
Nor was it on the table set,
Till other fifteen Englishmen
Were a’lighted about the yett.

12
‘Come out, come out now, Gude Wallace!
This is the day that thou maun die:’
‘I lippen nae sae little to God,’ he says,
‘Altho I be but ill wordie.’

13
The gudewife had an auld gudeman;
By Gude Wallace he stiffly stood,
Till ten o the fyfteen Englishmen
Before the door lay in their blude.

14
The other five to the greenwood ran,
And he hangd these five upon a grain,
And on the morn, wi his merry men a’,
He sat at dine in Lochmaben town.

D

Communicated to Robert Chambers by Elliot Anderson, Galashiels, 21
April, 1827, in a letter preserved among Kinloch’s papers. Copied,
with changes, in Kinloch MSS, I, 177. Furnished me by Mr. Macmath.

1
‘I wish we had our king,’ quo Gude Wallace,
‘An ilka true Scotsman had his nawn;
For between us an the southron louns
I doubt some ill seed has been sawn.’

2
Wallace he owre the water gaed,
An looked low down by a glen,
An there he saw a pretty, pretty maid,
As she was at the well washin.

3
‘O weel may ye wash, my bonny, bonny maid!
An weel may ye saep, an me to see!
If ye have ony tidins to tell,
I pray you tell them unto me.’

4
‘I have no tidins for to tell,
Nor ony uncos do I ken;
But up into yon little alehouse
An there sits fyfteen Englishmen.

5
‘An ay they are speakin o Gude Wallace,
An ay they are doomin him to hang:’
‘O forbid!’ quo Gude Wallace,
‘He’s owre truehearted a Scotsman.

6
‘Had I but a penny in my pouch,
As I have not a single bawbee,
I would up into yon little alehouse,
An ay thae southron blades to see.’

7
She’s put her hand into her pouch,
An counted him out pennies three;
‘If ever I live to come back this way,
Weel paid the money it shall be.’

8
He’s taen a staff into his hand,
An leand himsel outowre a tree,
An he’s awa to yon little alehouse,
An ay the southron louns to see.

9
When he gaed in to that little alehouse,
He bad his bennison be there;
The captain answered him [in] wrath,
He answerd him with domineer.

10
‘O whare was ye born, ye crooked auld carle?
An how may this your dwellin be?’
‘O I was born in fair Scotland,
A crooked carle altho I be.’

11
‘O I would een gie twenty shillins
To ony sic crooked carle as thee
That wad find me out Gude Wallace;
For ay that traitor I lang to see.’

12
‘Haud out your hand,’ quo Gude Wallace,
‘I doubt your money be not gude;
If ye’ll gie ither twenty shillins,
It neer shall bide ye anither bode.’

13
He’s taen the captain outowre the jaws,
Anither word spak he neer mair;
An five he sticket whare they sat,
The rest lay scramblin here an there.

14
‘Get up, get up, gudewife,’ he says,
‘An get some meat ready for me,
For I hae fasted this three lang days;
A wat right hungry I may be.’

15
The meat it wasna weel made ready,
Nor as weel on the table set,
Till there cam fyfteen Englishmen
An lighted a’about the yett.

16
The gudewife ran but, the gudeman ran ben;
It put them a’in sic a stoure
That five he sticket whare they sat,
An five lay sprawlin at the door.

17
An five are to the greenwood gane,
An he’s hangd them a’outowre a tree,
An before the mornin twal o clock
He dined wi his men at Loch Marie.

E

Communicated to James Telfer by A. Fisher, as written down from the
mouth of a serving-man, who had learned it in the neighborhood of
Lochmaben. Mr Robert White’s papers.

1
Willie Wallace the water lap,
And lighted low down in a glen;
There he came to a woman washing,
And she had washers nine or ten.

2
‘O weel may ye wash!’ said Willie Wallace,
‘O weel may ye wash!’ said fair Willie,
‘And gin ye have any tidings to tell,
I pray ye tell them unto me.’

3
‘I have nae tidings for to tell,
And as few will I let ye ken;
But down into yon hosteler-ha
Lies fifteen English gentlemen.’

4
‘O had I ae penny in my pocket,
Or had I yet ane bare bawbee,
I would go to yon hosteler-ha,
All for these Englishmen to see.

5
‘O wil ye len me ane pennie,
Or will ye len me a bare bawbee,
I would go to yon hosteler-ha,
All for these Englishmen to see.’

6
She’s put her hand into her pocket,
And she’s gaen him out guineas three,
And he’s away to yon ostler-ha,
All for these Englishmen to see.

7
Before he came to the hosteler-ha,
He linkit his armour oer a tree;
These Englishmen, being weel book-learned,
They said to him, Great Dominie!

8
Where was ye born, ye crookit carle?
Where was ye born, or in what countrie?
‘In merry Scotland I was born,
A crookit carle altho I be.’

9
‘Here’s fifteen shillings,’ one of them said,
‘Here’s other fifteen I’ll gie to thee,
If you will tell me where the traitor Willie Wallace is,
Or where away thou thinks he’ll be.’

10
‘Pay down, pay down your money,’ he said,
‘Pay down, pay down richt speedilie,
For if your answer be not good,
You shall have the downfall of Robin Hood,’ [said he].

11
He struck the captain on the jaw,
He swore that he would chow nae mair cheese;
He’s killed all the rest with his good broad-sword,
And left them wallowing on their knees.

12
‘Go cover the table,’ said Willie Wallace,
‘Go cover the table, get me some meat,
For it is three days and rather mair
Since I did either drink or eat.’

13
They had not the table weel covered,
Nor yet the candle weel gaen licht,
Till fifteen other Englishmen
They a’down at the door did light.

14
‘Come out, come out, Willie Wallace,’ they said.
‘Come out, come out, and do not flee,
For we have sworn by our good broadswords
That this is the nicht that you sall dee.’

15
He’s killed five with his good broadsword,
He’s drowned other five in the raging sea,
And he’s taen other five to the merry greenwood,
And hanged them oer the highest tree.

F

Buchan’s Gleanings, p. 114; from a gypsy tinker, p. 199.

1
Wallace in the high highlans,
Neither meat nor drink got he;
Said, Fa me life, or fa me death,
Now to some town I maun be.

2
He’s put on his short claiding,
And on his short claiding put he;
Says, Fa me life, or fa me death,
Now to Perth-town I maun be.

3
He steped oer the river Tay,
I wat he steped on dry land;
He was aware of a well-fared maid,
Was washing there her lilie hands.

4
‘What news, what news, ye well-fared maid?
What news hae ye this day to me?’
‘No news, no news, ye gentle knight,
No news hae I this day to thee,
But fifteen lords in the hostage-house
Waiting Wallace for to see.’

5
‘If I had but in my pocket
The worth of one single pennie,
I would go to the hostage-house,
And there the gentlemen to see.’

6
She put her hand in her pocket,
And she has pulld out half-a-crown;
Says, Take ye that, ye belted knight,
‘Twill pay your way till ye come down.

7
As he went from the well-fared maid,
A beggar bold I wat met he,
Was coverd wi a clouted cloak,
And in his hand a trusty tree.

8
‘What news, what news, ye silly auld man?
What news hae ye this day to gie?’
‘No news, no news, ye belted knight,
No news hae I this day to thee,
But fifteen lords in the hostage-house
Waiting Wallace for to see.’

9
‘Ye’ll lend me your clouted cloak,
That covers you frae head to shie,
And I’ll go to the hostage-house,
Asking there for some supplie.’

10
Now he’s gone to the West-muir wood,
And there he’s pulld a trusty tree;
And then he’s on to the hostage gone,
Asking there for charitie.

11
Down the stair the captain comes,
Aye the poor man for to see:
‘If ye be a captain as good as ye look,
Ye’ll give a poor man some supplie;
If ye be a captain as good as ye look,
A guinea this day ye’ll gie to me.’

12
‘Where were ye born, ye crooked carle?
Where were ye born, in what countrie?’
‘In fair Scotland I was born,
Crooked carle that I be.’

13
‘I would give you fifty pounds,
Of gold and white monie,
I would give you fifty pounds,
If the traitor Wallace ye’d let me see.’

14
‘Tell down your money,’ said Willie Wallace,
‘Tell down your money, if it be good;
I’m sure I have it in my power,
And never had a better bode.

15
‘Tell down your money,’ said Willie Wallace,
‘And let me see if it be fine;
I’m sure I have it in my power
To bring the traitor Wallace in.’

16
The money was told on the table,
Silver bright of pounds fiftie;
‘Now here I stand,’ said Willie Wallace,
‘And what hae ye to say to me? ’

17
He slew the captain where he stood,
The rest they did quack an roar;
He slew the rest around the room,
And askd if there were any more.

18
‘Come, cover the table,’ said Willie Wallace,
‘Come, cover the table now, make haste;
For it will soon be three lang days
Sin I a bit o meat did taste.’

19
The table was not well covered,
Nor yet was he set down to dine,
Till fifteen more of the English lords
Surrounded the house where he was in.

20
The guidwife she ran but the floor,
And aye the guidman he ran ben;
From eight o clock till four at noon
He has killd full thirty men.

21
He put the house in sick a swither
That five o them he sticket dead,
Five o them he drownd in the river,
And five hung in the West-muir wood.

22
Now he is on to the North-Inch gone,
Where the maid was washing tenderlie;
‘Now by my sooth,’ said Willie Wallace,
‘It’s been a sair day’s wark to me.’

23
He’s put his hand in his pocket,
And he has pulld out twenty pounds;
Says, Take ye that, ye weel-fared maid,
For the gude luck of your half-crown.

G

The Thistle of Scotland, Alexander Laing, p. 100, from the
repetition of an old gentlewoman in Aberdeenshire. Also Motherwell’s
MS., p. 487, communicated by Peter Buchan of Peterhead, “who had it
from an old woman in that neighborhood.”

1
Woud ye hear of William Wallace,
An sek him as he goes,
Into the lan of Lanark,
Amang his mortel faes?

2
There was fyften English sogers
Unto his ladie cam,
Said, Gie us William Wallace,
That we may have him slain.

3
Woud ye gie William Wallace,
That we may have him slain,
And ye’s be wedded to a lord,
The best in Christendeem.

4
‘This verra nicht at seven,
Brave Wallace will come in,
And he’ll come to my chamber-door,
Without or dread or din.’

5
The fyften English sogers
Around the house did wait,
And four brave southron foragers
Stood hie upon the gait.

6
That verra nicht at seven
Brave Wallace he came in,
And he came to his ladie’s bouir,
Withouten dread or din.

7
When she beheld him Wallace,
She star’d him in the face;
‘Ohon, alas!’ said that ladie,
‘This is a woful case.

8
‘For I this nicht have sold you,
This nicht you must be taen,
And I’m to be wedded to a lord,
The best in Christendeem.’

9
‘Do you repent,’ said Wallace,
‘The ill you’ve dane to me?’
‘Ay, that I do,’ said that ladie,
‘And will do till I die.

10
‘Ay, that I do,’ said that ladie,
‘And will do ever still,
And for the ill I’ve dane to you,
Let me burn upon a hill.’

11
Now God forfend,’ says brave Wallace,
‘I shoud be so unkind;
Whatever I am to Scotland’s faes,
I’m aye a woman’s friend.

12
‘Will ye gie me your gown, your gown,
Your gown but and your kirtle,
Your petticoat of bonny brown,
And belt about my middle?

13
‘I’ll take a pitcher in ilka hand,
And do me to the well;
They’ll think I’m one of your maidens,
Or think it is yoursell.’

14
She has gien him her gown, her gown,
Her petticoat and kirtle,
Her broadest belt, wi silver clasp,
To bind about his middle.

15
He’s taen a pitcher in ilka hand,
And dane him to the well;
They thought him one of her maidens,
They kend it was nae hersell.

16
Said one of the southron foragers,
See ye yon lusty dame?
I woud nae gie muckle to thee, neebor,
To bring her back agen.

17
Then all the southrons followd him,
And sure they were but four;
But he has drawn his trusty brand,
And slew them pair by pair.

18
He threw the pitchers frae his hands,
And to the hills fled he,
Until he cam to a fair may,
Was washin on yon lea.

19
‘What news, what news, ye weel-far’d may?
What news hae ye to gie?’
‘Ill news, ill news,’ the fair may said,
‘Ill news I hae to thee.

20
‘There is fyften English sogers
Into that thatched inn,
Seeking Sir William Wallace;
I fear that he is slain.’

21
‘Have ye any money in your pocket?
Pray lend it unto me,
And when I come this way again,
Repaid ye weel shall be.’

22
Sheś put her hand in her pocket,
And taen out shillings three;
He turnd him right and round about,
And thankd the weel-far’d may.

23
He had not gone a long rig length,
A rig length and a span,
Until he met a bold beggar,
As sturdy as coud gang.