THE THIRD PARTE.

And then bespake Sir Gawaine the gay,
And these were the words said hee:
145 "Nay, seeing you have made such a hearty vow,
Here another vow make will I.

"Ile make mine avow to God,
And alsoe to the Trinity,
That I will have yonder faire lady
150 To Litle Brittaine with mee.

"Ile hose her hourly to my [hart],
And with her Ile worke my will;

[Half a page is wanting.]

These were the words sayd hee:
"Befor I wold wrestle with yonder feend,
155 It is better be drowned in the sea."

And then bespake Sir Bredbeddle,
And these were the words said he:
"Why, I will wrestle with yon lodly feend,
God! my governor thou shalt bee."

160

Then bespake him noble Arthur,
And these were [the words] said he:
"What weapons wilt thou have, thou gentle knight?
I pray thee tell to me."

He sayes, "Collen brand Ile have in my hand,
165 And a Millaine knife fast be my knee;
And a Danish axe fast in my hands,
That a sure weapon I thinke wilbe."

Then with his Collen brand, that he had in his hand,
The bunge of the trubchandler he burst in three.
170 What that start out a lodly feend,
With seven heads, and one body.

The fyer towards the element flew,
Out of his mouth, where was great plentie;
The knight stoode in the middle, and fought,
175 That it was great joy to see.

Till his Collaine brand brake in his hand,
And his Millaine knife burst on his knee;
And then the Danish axe burst in his hand first,
That a sur weapon he thought shold be.

180 But now is the knight left without any weapone,
And alacke! it was the more pitty;
But a surer weapon then had he one,
Had never Lord in Christentye:
And all was but one litle booke,
185 He found it by the side of the sea.

He found it at the sea-side,
Wrucked upp in a floode;
Our Lord had written it with his hands,
And sealed it with his bloode.

[Half a page is wanting.]

190 "That thou doe....
But ly still in that wall of stone;
Till I have beene with noble King Arthur,
And told him what I have done."

And when he came to the King's chamber,
195 He cold of his curtesie
Saye, "Sleep you, wake you, noble King Arthur?
And ever Jesus watch yee!"

"Nay, I am not sleeping, I am waking,"
These were the words said hee:
200 "For thee I have car'd; how hast thou fared?
O gentle knight, let me see."

The knight wrought the King his booke,
Bad him behold, reede, and see;
And ever he found it on the backside of the leafe,
205 As noble Arthur wold wish it to be.

And then bespake him King Arthur,
"Alas! thou gentle knight, how may this be,
That I might see him in the same licknesse,
That he stood unto thee?"

210

And then bespake him [the Greene Knight],
These were the words said hee:
"If youle stand stifly in the battell stronge,
For I have won all the victory."

Then bespake him the King againe,
215 And these were the words said hee:
"If we stand not stifly in this battell strong,
Wee are worthy to be hanged all on a tree."

Then bespake him the Greene Knight,
These were the words said hee:
220 Saies, "I doe coniure thee, thou fowle feend,
In the same licknesse thou stood unto me."

With that start out a lodly feend,
With seven heads, and one body;
The fier towarde the element flaugh,
225 Out of his mouth, where was great plenty.

The knight stood in the middle....

[Half a page is wanting.]

... the space of an houre,
I know not what they did.

And then bespake him the Greene Knight,
230 And these were the words said he:
Saith, "I coniure thee, thou fowle feend,
That thou feitch downe the steed that we see."

And then forth is gone Burlow-beanie,
As fast as he cold hie;
235

And feitch he did that faire steed,
And came againe by and by.

Then bespake him Sir Marramile,
And these were the words said hee:
"Riding of this steed, brother Bredbeddle,
240 The mastery belongs to me."

Marramiles tooke the steed to his hand,
To ryd him he was full bold;
He cold noe more make him goe,
Then a child of three yeere old.

245 He [laid] uppon him with heele and hand,
With yard that was soe fell;
"Helpe! brother Bredbeddle," says Marramile,
"For I thinke he be the devill of hell.

"Helpe! brother Bredbeddle," says Marramile.
250 "Helpe! for Christs pittye;
For without thy help, brother Bredbeddle,
He will never be rydden " [for me].

Then bespake him Sir Bredbeddle,
These were the words said he:
255 "I coniure thee, thou [Burlow-beane],
Thou tell me how this steed was riddin in his country."
He saith, "There is a gold wand,
Stands in King Cornwalls study windowe.

"Let him take that wand in that window,


260 And strike three strokes on that steed;
And then he will spring forth of his hand,
As sparke doth out of gleede."

Then bespake him the Greene Knight,

[Half a page is wanting.]

A lowd blast....

And then bespake Sir Bredbeddle,
265 To the feend these words said hee:
Says, "I coniure thee, thou Burlow-beanie,
The powder-box thou feitch me."

Then forth is gone Burlow-beanie,
270 As fast as he cold hie;
And feich he did the powder-box,
And came againe by and by.

Then Sir Tristeram tooke powder forth of that box,
And blent it with warme sweet milke;
275 And there put it unto the horne,
And swilled it about in that ilke.

Then he tooke the horne in his hand,
And a lowd blast he blew;
He rent the horne up to the midst,
280 All his fellowes this [they knew].

Then bespake him the Greene Knight,


These were the words said he:
Saies. "I coniure thee, thou Burlow-beanie,
That thou feitch me the sword that I see."

285 Then forth is gone Burlow-beanie,
As fast as he cold hie;
And feitch he did that faire sword,
And came againe by and by.

Then bespake him Sir Bredbeddle,
290 To the king these words said he:
"Take this sword in thy hand, thou noble King,
For the vowes sake that thou made Ile give it thee;
And goe strike off King Cornewalls head,
In bed [where] he doth lye."

295 Then forth is gone noble King Arthur,
As fast as he cold hye;
And strucken he hath King Cornwalls head,
And came againe by and by.

He put the head upon a swords point,

[The poem terminates here abruptly.]

[151], hurt.

[161], they words.

[210], The Greene Knight is Sir Bredbeddle.

[245], sayed.

[252], p' me, i.e. pro or per.

[255], Burlow-leane.

[280], the knew.

[294], were.

FRAGMENT OF CHILD ROWLAND AND BURD ELLEN.

It is not impossible that this ballad should be the one quoted by Edgar in King Lear, (Act iii. sc. 4:)

"Child Rowland to the dark tower came."

We have extracted the fragment given by Jamieson, with the breaks in the story filled out, from Illustrations of Northern Antiquities, p. 397; and we have added his translation of the Danish ballad of Rosmer Hafmand, which exhibits a striking similarity to Child Rowland, from Popular Ballads and Songs, ii. 202. The tale of the Red Etin, as given in Chamber's Pop. Rhymes of Scotland, p. 56, has much resemblance to Jamieson's story, and, like it, is interspersed with verse.

The occurrence of the name Merlin is by no means a sufficient ground for connecting this tale, as Jamieson would do, with the cycle of King Arthur. For Merlin, as Grundtvig has remarked (Folkeviser, ii. 79), did not originally belong to that cycle, and again, his name seems to have been given in Scotland to any sort of wizard or prophet.

["King Arthur's sons o' merry Carlisle]
Were playing at the ba';
And there was their sister Burd Ellen,
I' the mids amang them a'.

5 "Child Rowland kick'd it wi' his foot,
And keppit it wi' his knee;
And ay, as he play'd out o'er them a',
O'er the kirk he gar'd it flee.

"Burd Ellen round about the isle


10 To seek the ba' is gane;
But they bade lang and ay langer,
And she camena back again.

"They sought her east, they sought her west,
They sought her up and down;
15 And wae were the hearts [in merry Carlisle,]
For she was nae gait found!"

At last her eldest brother went to the Warluck Merlin, (Myrddin Wyldt,) and asked if he knew where his sister, the fair Burd Ellen, was. "The fair Burd Ellen," said the Warluck Merlin, "is carried away by the fairies, and is now in the castle of the king of Elfland; and it were too bold an undertaking for the stoutest knight in Christendom to bring her back." "Is it possible to bring her back?" said her brother, "and I will do it, or perish in the attempt." "Possible indeed it is," said the Warluck Merlin; "but woe to the man or mother's son who attempts it, if he is not well instructed beforehand of what he is to do."

Influenced no less by the glory of such an enterprise, than by the desire of rescuing his sister, the brother of the fair Burd Ellen resolved to undertake the adventure; and after proper instructions from Merlin, (which he failed in observing,) he set out on his perilous expedition.

"But they bade lang and ay langer,
Wi' dout and mickle maen;
And wae were the hearts [in merry Carlisle,]
20 For he camena back again."

The second brother in like manner set out; but failed in observing the instructions of the Warluck Merlin; and

"They bade lang and ay langer,
Wi' mickle dout and maen;
And wae were the hearts [in merry Carlisle,]
For he camena back again."

Child Rowland, the youngest brother of the fair Burd Ellen, then resolved to go; but was strenuously opposed by the good queen, [Gwenevra,] who was afraid of losing all her children.

At last the good queen [Gwenevra] gave him her consent and her blessing; he girt on (in great form, and with all due solemnity of sacerdotal consecration,) his father's good claymore, [Excalibar,] that never struck in vain, and repaired to the cave of the Warluck Merlin. The Warluck Merlin gave him all necessary instructions for his journey and conduct, the most important of which were, that he should kill every person he met with after entering the land of Fairy, and should neither eat nor drink of what was offered him in that country, whatever his hunger or thirst might be; for if he tasted or touched in Elfland, he must remain in the power of the Elves, and never see middle eard again.

So Child Rowland set out on his journey, and travelled "on and ay farther on," till he came to where (as he had been forewarned by the Warluck Merlin,) he found the king of Elfland's horse-herd feeding his horses.

"Canst thou tell me," said Child Rowland to the

horse-herd, "where the king of Elfland's castle is?"—"I cannot tell thee," said the horse-herd; "but go on a little farther, and thou wilt come to the cow-herd, and he, perhaps, may tell thee." So Child Rowland drew the good claymore, [Excalibar,] that never struck in vain, and hewed off the head of the horse-herd. Child Rowland then went on a little farther, till he came to the king of Elfland's cow-herd, who was feeding his cows. "Canst thou tell me," said Child Rowland to the cow-herd, "where the king of Elfland's castle is?"—"I cannot tell thee," said the cow-herd; "but go on a little farther, and thou wilt come to the sheep-herd, and he perhaps may tell thee." So Child Rowland drew the good claymore, [Excalibar,] that never struck in vain, and hewed off the head of the cow-herd. He then went on a little farther, till he came to the sheep-herd. * * * * [The sheep-herd, goat-herd, and swine-herd are all, each in his turn, served in the same manner; and lastly he is referred to the hen-wife.]

"Go on yet a little farther," said the hen-wife, "till thou come to a round green hill surrounded with rings (terraces) from the bottom to the top; go round it three times widershins, and every time say, "Open, door! open, door! and let me come in; and the third time the door will open, and you may go in." So Child Rowland drew the good claymore, [Excalibar,] that never struck in vain, and hewed off the head of the hen-wife. Then went he three times widershins round the green hill, crying, "Open, door! open, door! and let me come in;" and the third time the door opened, and he went in.

It immediately closed behind him; and he proceeded through a long passage, where the air was soft and

agreeably warm like a May evening, as is all the air of Elfland. The light was a sort of twilight or gloaming; but there were neither windows nor candles, and he knew not whence it came, if it was not from the walls and roof, which were rough, and arched like a grotto, and composed of a clear transparent rock, incrusted with sheeps-silver and spar, and various bright stones. At last he came to two wide and lofty folding-doors, which stood a-jar. He opened them, and entered a large and spacious hall, whose richness and brilliance no tongue can tell. It seemed to extend the whole length and height of the hill. The superb Gothic pillars by which the roof was supported, were so large and so lofty, (said my seannachy,) that the pillars of the Chanry Kirk, [4] or of Pluscardin Abbey, are no more to be compared to them, than the Knock of Alves is to be compared to Balrinnes or Ben-a-chi. They were of gold and silver, and were fretted like the west window of the Chanry Kirk, with wreaths of flowers composed of diamonds and precious stones of all manner of beautiful colors. The key-stones of the arches above, instead of coats of arms and other devices, were ornamented with clusters of diamonds in the same manner. And from the middle of the roof, where the principal arches met, was hung by a gold chain, an immense lamp of one hollowed pearl, perfectly transparent, in the midst of which was suspended a large carbuncle, that by the power of magic continually turned round, and shed over all the hall a clear and mild light like the setting sun; but the hall was so large, and these dazzling objects so far removed,

that their blended radiance cast no more than a pleasing lustre, and excited no more than agreeable sensations in the eyes of Child Rowland.

The furniture of the hall was suitable to its architecture; and at the farther end, under a splendid canopy, seated on a gorgeous sofa of velvet, silk, and gold, and "kembing her yellow hair wi' a silver kemb,"

25 "There was his sister burd Ellen;
She stood up him before."

Says,

"'God rue on thee, poor luckless fode!
What has thou to do here?

"'And hear ye this, my youngest brither,
30 Why badena ye at hame?
Had ye a hundur and thousand lives,
Ye canna brook ane o' them.

"'And sit thou down; and wae, O wae
That ever thou was born;
35 For come the King o' Elfland in,
Thy leccam is forlorn!'"

A long conversation then takes place; Child Rowland tells her the news [of merry Carlisle,] and of his own expedition; and concludes with the observation, that, after this long and fatiguing journey to the castle of the king of Elfland, he is very hungry.

Burd Ellen looked wistfully and mournfully at him, and shook her head, but said nothing. Acting under the influence of a magic which she could not resist, she arose, and brought him a golden bowl full of bread and milk, which she presented to him with the same timid, tender, and anxious expression of solicitude.

Remembering the instructions of the Warluck Merlin, "Burd Ellen," said Child Rowland, "I will neither taste nor touch till I have set thee free!" Immediately the folding-doors burst open with tremendous violence, and in came the king of Elfland,

"With 'fi, fi, fo, and fum!
I smell the blood of a Christian man!
Be he dead, be he living, wi' my brand
40 I'll clash his harns frae his harn-pan!'"

"Strike, then, Bogle of Hell, if thou darest!" exclaimed the undaunted Child Rowland, starting up, and drawing the good claymore, [Excalibar,] that never struck in vain.

A furious combat ensued, and the king of Elfland was felled to the ground; but Child Rowland spared him on condition that he should restore to him his two brothers, who lay in a trance in a corner of the hall, and his sister, the fair burd Ellen. The king of Elfland then produced a small crystal phial, containing a bright red liquor, with which he anointed the lips, nostrils, eye-lids, ears, and finger-ends of the two young men, who immediately awoke as from a profound sleep, during which their souls had quitted their bodies, and they had seen, &c., &c., &c. So they all four returned in triumph to [merry Carlisle.]

Such was the rude outline of the romance of Child Rowland, as it was told to me when I was about seven or eight years old, by a country tailor then at work in my father's house. He was an ignorant and dull good sort of honest man, who seemed never to have questioned the truth of what he related. Where the et cæteras

are put down, many curious particulars have been omitted, because I was afraid of being deceived by my memory, and substituting one thing for another. It is right also to admonish the reader, that the Warluck Merlin, Child Rowland, and Burd Ellen, were the only names introduced in his recitation; and that the others, inclosed within brackets, are assumed upon the authority of the locality given to the story by the mention of Merlin. In every other respect I have been as faithful as possible.

[4] ] The cathedral of Elgin naturally enough furnished similes to a man who had never in his life been twenty miles distant from it.

ROSMER HAFMAND,

OR,

THE MER-MAN ROSMER.

The ballad of Rosmer is found in Danish, Swedish, Faroish, and Norse. All the questions bearing upon its origin, and the relations of the various forms in which the story exists, are amply discussed by Grundtvig, vol. ii. p. 72. Three versions of the Danish ballad are given by Vedel, all of which Jamieson has translated. The following is No. 31 in Abrahamson.

There dwalls a lady in Danmarck,
Lady Hillers lyle men her ca';
And she's gar'd bigg a new castell,
That shines o'er Danmarck a'.

5 Her dochter was stown awa frae her;
She sought for her wide-whare;
But the mair she sought, and the less she fand,—
That wirks her sorrow and care.

And she's gar'd bigg a new ship,
10 Wi' vanes o' flaming goud,
Wi' mony a knight and mariner,
Sae stark in need bestow'd.

She's followed her sons down to the strand,
That chaste and noble fre;
15 And wull and waif for eight lang years
They sail'd upon the sea.

And eight years wull and waif they sail'd,
O' months that seem'd sae lang;
Syne they sail'd afore a high castell,
20 And to the land can gang.

And the young lady Svanè lyle,
In the bower that was the best,
Says, "Wharfrae cam thir frem swains,
Wi' us this night to guest?"

25 Then up and spak her youngest brither,
Sae wisely ay spak he;
"We are a widow's three poor sons,
Lang wilder'd on the sea.

"In Danmarck were we born and bred,
30 Lady Hillers lyle was our mither;
Our sister frae us was stown awa,
We findna whare or whither."

"In Danmarck were ye born and bred?
Was Lady Hillers your mither?
35 I can nae langer heal frae thee,
Thou art my youngest brither.

"And hear ye this, my youngest brither:
Why bade na ye at hame?
Had ye a hunder and thousand lives,
40 Ye canna brook ane o' them."

She's set him in the weiest nook
She in the house can meet;
She's bidden him for the high God's sake
Nouther to laugh ne greet.

45

Rosmer hame frae Zealand came,
And he took on to bann:
"I smell fu' weel, by my right hand,
That here is a Christian man."

"There flew a bird out o'er the house,
50 Wi' a man's bane in his mouth;
He coost it in, and I cast it out,
As fast as e'er I couth."

But wilyly she can Rosmer win;
And clapping him tenderly,
55 "It's here is come my sister-son;—
Gin I lose him, I'll die.

"It's here is come, my sister-son,
Frae baith our fathers' land;
And I ha'e pledged him faith and troth,
60 That ye will not him bann."

"And is he come, thy sister-son,
Frae thy father's land to thee?
Then I will swear my highest aith,
He's dree nae skaith frae me."

65 "'Twas then the high king Rosmer,
He ca'd on younkers twae:
"Ye bid proud Svanè lyle's sister-son
To the chalmer afore me gae."

It was Svanè lyle's sister-son,
70 Whan afore Rosmer he wan,
His heart it quook, and his body shook,
Sae fley'd, he scarce dow stand.

Sae Rosmer took her sister-son,


Set him upon his knee;
75 He clappit him sae luifsomely,
He turned baith blue and blae.

And up and spak she, Svanè lyle;
"Sir Rosmer, ye're nae to learn
That your ten fingers arena sma,
80 To clap sae little a bairn."

There was he till, the fifthen year,
He green'd for hame and land:
"Help me now, sister Svanè lyle,
To be set on the white sand."

85 It was proud Lady Svanè lyle,
Afore Rosmer can stand:
"This younker sae lang in the sea has been,
He greens for hame and land."

"Gin the younker sae lang in the sea has been,
90 And greens for hame and land,
Then I'll gie him a kist wi' goud,
Sae fitting till his hand."

"And will ye gi'e him a kist wi' goud,
Sae fitting till his hand?
95 Then hear ye, my noble heartis dear,
Ye bear them baith to land."

Then wrought proud Lady Svanè lyle
What Rosmer little wist;
For she's tane out the goud sae red,
100 And laid hersel i' the kist.

He's ta'en the man upon his back;
The kist in his mouth took he;
And he has gane the lang way up
Frae the bottom o' the sea.

105 "Now I ha'e borne thee to the land;
Thou seest baith sun and moon;
Namena Lady Svanè for thy highest God,
I beg thee as a boon."

Rosmer sprang i' the saut sea out,
110 And jawp'd it up i' the sky;
But whan he cam till the castell in,
Nae Svanè lyle could he spy.

Whan he came till the castell in,
His dearest awa was gane;
115 Like wood he sprang the castell about,
On the rock o' the black flintstane.

Glad they were in proud Hillers lyle's house,
Wi' welcome joy and glee;
Hame to their friends her bairns were come,
120 That had lang been in the sea.

TAM-A-LINE, THE ELFIN KNIGHT.

(See page [114].)

From Scottish Traditionary Versions of Ancient Ballads, Percy Society, xvii. p. 11.

Take warnin', a' ye ladyes fair,
That wear gowd on your hair;
Come never unto Charter-woods,
For Tam-a-line he's there.

5 Even about that knicht's middle
O' siller bells are nine;
Nae ane comes to Charter-woods,
And a may returns agen.

Ladye Margaret sits in her bouir door,
10 Sewing at her silken seam;
And she lang'd to gang to Charter woods,
To pou the roses green.

She hadna pou'd a rose, a rose,
Nor braken a branch but ane,
15 Till by it came him true Tam-a-line,
Says, "Layde, lat alane.

"O why pou ye the rose, the rose?
Or why brake ye the tree?
Or why come ye to Charter-woods,
20 Without leave ask'd of me?"

"I will pou the rose, the rose,
And I will brake the tree;
Charter-woods are a' my ain,
I'll ask nae leave o' thee."

25 He's taen her by the milk-white hand,
And by the grass-green sleeve;
And laid her low on gude green wood,
At her he spier'd nae leave.

When he had got his will o' her,
30 His will as he had ta'en,
He's ta'en her by the middle sma',
Set her to feet again.

She turn'd her richt and round about,
To spier her true love's name,
35 But naething heard she, nor naething saw,
As a' the woods grew dim.

Seven days she tarried there,
Saw neither sun nor muin;
At length, by a sma' glimmerin' licht,
40 Came thro' the wood her lane.

When she came to her father's court,
Was fine as ony queen;
But when eight months were past and gane,
Got on the gown o' green.

45 Then out it speaks an eldren knicht,
As he stood at the yett;
"Our king's dochter, she gaes wi' bairn,
And we'll get a' the wyte."

"O haud your tongue, ye eldren man,
50 And bring me not to shame;
Although that I do gang wi' bairn,
Yese naeways get the blame.

"Were my love but an earthly man,
As he's an elfin knicht,
55 I wadna gie my ain true luve,
For a' that's in my sicht."

Then out it speaks her brither dear,
He meant to do her harm,
"There is an herb in Charter-woods
60 Will twine you an' the bairn."

She's taen her mantle her about,
Her coiffer by the band;
And she is on to Charter-woods,
As fast as she coud gang.

65 She hadna poud a rose, a rose,
Nor braken a branch but ane,
Till by it came him, Tam-a-Line,
Says, "Ladye, lat alane."

"O! why pou ye the pile, Margaret,
70 The pile o' the gravil green,
For to destroy the bonny bairn
That we got us between?

"O! why pou ye the pile, Margaret,
The pile o' the gravil gray,
75 For to destroy the bonny bairn
That we got in our play?

"For if it be a knave bairn,


He's heir o' a' my land;
But if it be a lass bairn,
80 In red gowd she shall gang."

"If my luve were an earthly man,
As he's an elfin grey,
I coud gang bound, luve, for your sake,
A twalmonth and a day."

85 "Indeed your luve's an earthly man,
The same as well as thee;
And lang I've haunted Charter-woods,
A' for your fair bodie."

"O! tell me, tell me, Tam-a-Line,
90 O! tell, an' tell me true;
Tell me this nicht, an' mak' nae lee,
What pedigree are you?"

"O! I hae been at gude church-door,
An' I've got christendom;
95 I'm the Earl o' Forbes' eldest son,
An' heir ower a' his land.

"When I was young, o' three years old,
Muckle was made o' me;
My stepmither put on my claithes,
100 An' ill, ill, sained she me.

"Ae fatal morning I gaed out,
Dreading nae injurie;
And thinking lang, fell soun asleep,
Beneath an apple tree.

105

"Then by it came the Elfin Queen,
And laid her hand on me;
And from that time since e'er I mind,
I've been in her companie.

"O Elfin it's a bonny place,
110 In it fain wad I dwell;
But aye at ilka seven years' end,
They pay a tiend to hell,
And I'm sae fou o' flesh an blude,
I'm sair fear'd for mysell."

115 "O tell me, tell me, Tam-a-Line,
O tell, an' tell me true;
Tell me this nicht, an' mak' nae lee,
What way I'll borrow you?"

"The morn is Hallowe'en nicht,
120 The Elfin court will ride,
Through England, and thro' a' Scotland,
And through the warld wide.

"O they begin at sky sett in,
Ride a' the evenin' tide;
125 And she that will her true love borrow,
At Miles-cross will him bide.

"Ye'll do ye down to Miles-cross,
Between twall hours and ane;
And full your hands o' holie water,
130 And cast your compass roun'.

"Then the first ane court that comes you till,
Is published king and queen;
The neist ane court that comes you till,


It is maidens mony ane.

135 "The neist ane court that comes you till,
Is footmen, grooms, and squires;
The neist ane court that comes you till,
Is knichts; and I'll be there.

"I Tam-a-Line, on milk-white steed,
140 A gowd star on my crown;
Because I was an earthly knicht,
Got that for a renown.

"And out at my steed's right nostril,
He'll breathe a fiery flame;
145 Ye'll loot you low, and sain yoursel,
And ye'll be busy then.

"Ye'll tak' my horse then by the head,
And lat the bridal fa';
The Queen o' Elfin she'll cry out,
150 'True Tam-a-Line's awa'.

"Then I'll appear into your arms
Like the wolf that ne'er wad tame;
Ye'll haud me fast, lat me not gae,
Case we ne'er meet again.

155 "Then I'll appear into your arms
Like fire that burns sae bauld;
Ye'll haud me fast, lat me not gae,
I'll be as iron cauld.

"Then I'll appear into your arms
160 Like the adder an' the snake;

Ye'll haud me fast, lat me not gae,
I am your warld's maike.

"Then I'll appear into your arms
Like to the deer sae wild;
165 Ye'll haud me fast, lat me not gae,
And I'll father your child.

"And I'll appear into your arms
Like to a silken string;
Ye'll haud me fast, lat me not gae,
170 Till ye see the fair mornin'.

"And I'll appear into your arms
Like to a naked man;
Ye'll haud me fast, lat me not gae,
And wi' you I'll gae hame."

175 Then she has done her to Miles-cross,
Between twal hours an' ane;
And filled her hands o' holie water,
And kiest her compass roun'.

The first ane court that came her till,
180 Was published king and queen;
The niest ane court that came her till,
Was maidens mony ane.

The niest ane court that came her till,
Was footmen, grooms, and squires;
185 The niest ane court that came her till,
Was knichts; and he was there!

True Tam-a-Line, on milk-white steed,
A gowd star on his crown;
Because he was an earthly man,


190 Got that for a renown.

And out at the steed's right nostril,
He breath'd a fiery flame;
She loots her low, an' sains hersel,
And she was busy then.

195 She's taen the horse then by the head,
And loot the bridle fa';
The Queen o' Elfin she cried out,—
"True Tam-a-Line's awa'."

"Stay still, true Tam-a-Line," she says,
200 "Till I pay you your fee;"
"His father wants not lands nor rents,
He'll ask nae fee frae thee."

"Gin I had kent yestreen, yestreen,
What I ken weel the day,
205 I shou'd hae taen your fu' fause heart,
Gien you a heart o' clay."

Then he appeared into her arms
Like the wolf that ne'er wad tame;
She held him fast, lat him not gae,
210 Case they ne'er met again.

Then he appeared into her arms
Like the fire burning bauld;
She held him fast, lat him not gae,
He was as iron cauld.

215 And he appeared into her arms
Like the adder an' the snake;
She held him fast, lat him not gae,


He was her warld's maike.

And he appeared into her arms
220 Like to the deer sae wild;
She held him fast, lat him not gae,
He's father o' her child.

And he appeared into her arms
Like to a silken string;
225 She held him fast, lat him not gae,
Till she saw fair mornin'.

And he appeared into her arms
Like to a naked man;
She held him fast, lat him not gae,
230 And wi' her he's gane hame.

These news hae reach'd thro' a' Scotland,
And far ayont the Tay,
That ladye Margaret, our king's dochter,
That nicht had gain'd her prey.

235 She borrowed her love at mirk midnicht,
Bare her young son ere day;
And though ye'd search the warld wide,
Ye'll nae find sic a may.

TOM LINN.

(See p. [114].)

This fragment was taken down from the recitation
of an old woman. Maidment's New Book of Old Ballads, p. 54.

O all you ladies young and gay,
Who are so sweet and fair,
Do not go into Chaster's wood,
For Tomlinn will be there.

*    *    *    *    *

5 Fair Margaret sat in her bonny bower,
Sewing her silken seam,
And wished to be in Chaster's wood,
Among the leaves so green.

She let the seam fall to her foot,
10 The needle to her toe,
And she has gone to Chaster's wood,
As fast as she could go.

When she began to pull the flowers;


She pull'd both red and green;
15 Then by did come, and by did go,
Said, "Fair maid, let abene!

"O why pluck you the flowers, lady,
Or why climb you the tree?
Or why come ye to Chaster's wood,
20 Without the leave of me?"

"O I will pull the flowers," she said,
"Or I will break the tree;
For Chaster's wood it is my own,
I'll ask no leave at thee."

25 He took her by the milk-white hand,
And by the grass-green sleeve;
And laid her down upon the flowers,
At her he ask'd no leave.

The lady blush'd and sourly frown'd,
30 And she did think great shame;
Says, "If you are a gentleman,
You will tell me your name."

"First they call me Jack," he said,
"And then they call'd me John;
35 But since I liv'd in the Fairy court,
Tomlinn has always been my name.

"So do not pluck that flower, lady,
That has these pimples gray;
They would destroy the bonny babe
40 That we've gotten in our play."

"O tell to me, Tomlinn," she said,


"And tell it to me soon;
Was you ever at a good church door,
Or got you christendom?"

45 "O I have been at good church door,
And oft her yetts within;
I was the Laird of Foulis's son,
The heir of all his land.

"But it fell once upon a day,
50 As hunting I did ride,
As I rode east and west yon hill,
Then woe did me betide.

"O drowsy, drowsy as I was,
Dead sleep upon me fell;
55 The Queen of Fairies she was there,
And took me to hersel.

"The morn at even is Hallowe'en,
Our Fairy court will ride,
Through England and through Scotland both,
60 Through all the world wide;
And if that ye would me borrow,
At Rides Cross ye may bide.

"You may go into the Miles Moss,
Between twelve hours and one;
65 Take holy water in your hand,
And cast a compass round.

"The first court that comes along,
You'll let them all pass by;
The next court that comes along,


70 Salute them reverently.

"The next court that comes along,
Is clad in robes of green;
And it's the head court of them all,
For in it rides the Queen.

75 "And I upon a milk-white steed,
With a gold star in my crown;
Because I am an earthly man,
I'm next the Queen in renown.

"Then seize upon me with a spring,
80 Then to the ground I'll fa';
And then you'll hear a rueful cry,
That Tomlinn is awa'.

"Then I'll grow in your arms two,
Like to a savage wild;
85 But hold me fast, let me not go,
I'm father of your child.

"I'll grow into your arms two
Like an adder, or a snake;
But hold me fast, let me not go,
90 I'll be your earthly maik.

"I'll grow into your arms two
Like ice on frozen lake;
But hold me fast, let me not go,
Or from your goupen break.

95 "I'll grow into your arms two,


Like iron in strong fire;
But hold me fast, let me not go,
Then you'll have your desire."

And its next night into Miles Moss,
100 Fair Margaret has gone;
When lo she stands beside Rides Cross,
Between twelve hours and one.

There's holy water in her hand,
She casts a compass round;
105 And presently a Fairy band
Comes riding o'er the mound.

This seems to be the most appropriate connection for a short fragment from Maidment's North Countrie Garland, (p. 21.) It was taken down from the recitation of a lady who had heard it sung in her childhood.

BURD ELLEN AND YOUNG TAMLANE.

Burd Ellen sits in the bower windowe,
With a double laddy double, and for the double dow,
Twisting the red silk and the blue,
With the double rose and the May-hay.

5 And whiles she twisted, and whiles she twan,


With a double, &c.
And whiles the tears fell down amang,
With the double, &c.

10 Till once there by cam young Tamlane,
With a double, &c.
"Come light, oh light, and rock your young son!"
With the double, &c.

"If you winna rock him, you may let him rair,
With a double, &c.
15 For I hae rockit my share and mair."
With the double, &c.

Young Tamlane to the seas he's gane,
With a double laddy double, and for the double dow,
And a' women's curse in his company's gane,
20 With the double rose and the May-hay.

ALS Y YOD ON AY MOUNDAY.

(See p. [126].)

In the manuscript from which these verses are taken, they form the preface to a long strain of incomprehensible prophecies of the same description as those which are appended to Thomas of Ersyldoune. Whether the two portions belong together, or not, (and it will be seen that they are ill enough joined,) the first alone requires to be cited here for the purpose of comparison with the Wee Wee Man. The whole piece has been twice printed, first by Finlay, in his Scottish Ballads, (ii. 163,) and afterwards, by a person who was not aware that he had been anticipated, in the Retrospective Review, Second Series, vol. ii. p. 326. Both texts are in places nearly unintelligible, and are evidently full of errors, part of which we must ascribe to the incompetency of the editors. Finlay's is here adopted as on the whole the best, but it has received a few corrections from the other, and one or two conjectural emendations.

Als y yod on ay Mounday
Bytwene Wyltinden and Wall,
The ane after brade way,
Ay litel man y mette with alle,
5 The leste yat ever y, sathe to say,
Oither in bowr, oither in halle;
His robe was noither grene na gray,
Bot alle yt was of riche palle.

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

I beheld that litel man
Bi the strete als we gon gae;
His berd was syde ay large span,
20 And glided als the fether of pae;
His heved was wyte als ony swan,
His hegehen was gret and grai als so;
Brues lange, wel I the can
Merk it to fize inches and mae.

25 Armes scort, for sothe I saye,
Ay span seemed thaem to bee:
Handes brade vytouten nay,
And fingeres lange, he scheued me.
Ay stane he tok op thar it lay,
30 And castit forth that I moth see;
Ay merk-soot of large way
Bifore me strides he castit three.

Wel stille I stod als did the stane,
To loke him on thouth me nouth lang;
35 His robe was alle gold begane,
Wel [craftelike] maked, I understande;

Botones asurd, everlk ane,
Fra his elbouthe ontil his hande;
[Erdelik] man was he nane;
40 That in myn hert ich onderstande.

Til him I sayde ful sone on ane,
For forthirmar I wald him fraine,
"[Gladli wald] I wit thi name,
And I wist wat me mouthe gaine;
45 Thou ert so litel of fleshe and bane,
And so mikel of mith and mayne,
War vones thou, litel man, at hame?
Wit of thee I wald ful faine."

"Thoth I be litel and lith,
50 Am y noth wytouten wane;
Ferli frained thou wat hi hith,
[That] thou salt noth wit my name;
My wonige stede ful wel es [dyght],
Nou sone thou salt se at hame."
55 Til him I sayde, "For Godes mith,
Let me forth myn erand gane."

"The thar noth of thin erand lette,
Thouth thou come ay stonde wit me,
Forther salt thou noth bi sette,
60 Bi miles twa noyther bi three."
Na linger durst I for him lette,
But forth y funded wyt that free;
Stintid vs brok no beck;
Ferlich me thouth hu so mouth bee.

65

He vent forth, als y you say,
In at ay yate, y vnderstande;
In til ay yate wvndouten nay;
It to se thouth me [nouth] lang.
The bankers on the binkes lay,
70 And fair lordes sett y fonde;
In ilka ay hirn y herd ay lay,
And leuedys soth meloude sange.

[Here there seems to be a break, and a new start made, with a tale told not on a Monday, but on a Wednesday.]

Lithe, bothe zonge and alde:
Of ay worde y will you saye,
Ay litel tale that me was tald
Erli on ay Wedenesdaye.
A mody barn, that was ful bald,
My friend that y frained aye,
Al my gesing he me tald,
And galid me als we went bi waye.

"Miri man, that es so wyth,
Of ay thing gif me answere:
For him that mensked man wyt mith,
Wat sal worth of this were?" &c.

Finlay, [36], crustlike.

[39], Clidelik.

[43], Glalli wild.

[52], That, qy. Yat?; with.

[53], dygh.

[68], south.

THE ELPHIN KNIGHT.

(See p. [128].)

"The following transcript is a literal copy from the original in the Pepysian library, Cambridge." Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. i.

"A Proper New Ballad, entituled, The Wind hath blown my Plaid away, or, A Discourse betwixt a young Maid and the Elphin-Knight; To be sung with its own pleasant New Tune."

The Elphin Knight site on yon hill,
Ba, ba, ba, lilli ba,
He blowes his horn both loud and shril,
The wind hath blown my plaid awa.

5 He blowes it East, he blowes it West,
Ba, ba, &c.
He blowes it where he lyketh best.
The wind, &c.

"I wish that horn were in my kist,
10 Ba, ba, &c.
Yea, and the knight in my armes two."
The wind, &c.

She had no sooner these words said,


Ba, ba, &c.
15 When that the knight came to her bed.
The wind, &c.

"Thou art over young a maid," quoth he,
Ba, ba, &c.
"Married with me thou il wouldst be."
20 The wind, &c.

"I have a sister younger than I,
Ba, ba, &c.
And she was married yesterday."
The wind, &c.

25 "Married with me if thou wouldst be,
Ba, ba, &c.
A courtesie thou must do to me.
The wind, &c.

"For thou must shape a sark to me,
30 Ba, ba, &c.
Without any cut or heme," quoth he.
The wind, &c.

"Thou must shape it needle- and sheerlesse,
Ba, ba, &c.
35 And also sue it needle-threedlesse."
The wind, &c.

"If that piece of courtesie I do to thee,
Ba, ba, &c.
Another thou must do to me.
40 The wind, &c.

"I have an aiker of good ley-land,
Ba, ba, &c.
Which lyeth low by yon sea-strand.
The wind, &c.

45 "For thou must cure it with thy horn,
Ba, ba, &c.
So thou must sow it with thy corn.
The wind, &c.

"And bigg a cart of stone and lyme,
50 Ba, ba, &c.
Robin Redbreast he must trail it hame.
The wind, &c.

"Thou must barn it in a mouse-holl,
Ba, ba, &c.
55 And thrash it into thy shoes' soll.
The wind, &c.

"And thou must winnow it in thy looff,
Ba, ba, &c.
And also seck it in thy glove.
60 The wind, &c.

"For thou must bring it over the sea,
Ba, ba, &c.
And thou must bring it dry home to me.
The wind, &c.

65 "When thou hast gotten thy turns well done,
Ba, ba, &c.
Then come to me and get thy sark then.
The wind, &c."

"I'l not quite my plaid for my life,
70 Ba, ba, &c.
It haps my seven bairns and my wife.
The wind shall not blow my plaid awa."

"My maidenhead I'l then keep still,
Ba, ba, &c.
75 Let the Elphin Knight do what he will.
The wind's not blown my plaid awa."

"My plaid awa, my plaid awa,
And o'er the hill and far awa,
And far awa, to Norrowa,
My plaid shall not be blown awa."

THE LAIDLEY WORM OF SPINDLESTON-HEUGH.

See p. [137].

"A song above 500 years old, made by the old mountain-bard, Duncan Frasier, living on Cheviot, A.D. 1270."

This ballad, first published in Hutchinson's History of Northumberland, was the composition of Mr. Robert Lambe, vicar of Norham. Several stanzas are, however, adopted from some ancient tale. It has been often printed, and is now taken from Ritson's Northumberland Garland.

The similar story of The Worme of Lambton, versified by the Rev. J. Watson (compare Ormekampen and the cognate legends, Grundtvig, i. 343, also vol. viii. p. 128, of this collection), may be seen in Richardson's Borderer's Table-Book, viii. 129, or in Moore's Pictorial Book of Ancient Ballad Poetry, page 784. With the tale of the Lambton Worm of Durham agrees in many particulars that of the Worm of Linton in Roxburghshire. (See Scott's introduction to Kempion, and Sir C. Sharpe's Bishopric Garland, p. 21.) It is highly probable that the mere coincidence of sound with Linden-Worm caused this last place to be selected as the scene of such a story.

The king is gone from Bambrough Castle,
Long may the princess mourn;
Long may she stand on the castle wall,
Looking for his return.

5 She has knotted the keys upon a string,
And with her she has them ta'en,
She has cast them o'er her left shoulder,
And to the gate she is gane.

She tripped out, she tripped in,
10 She tript into the yard;
But it was more for the king's sake,
Than for the queen's regard.

It fell out on a day, the king
Brought the queen with him home;
15 And all the lords in our country
To welcome them did come.

"O welcome father!" the lady cries,
"Unto your halls and bowers;
And so are you, my step-mother,
20 For all that's here is yours."

A lord said, wondering while she spake, [98]
"This princess of the North
Surpasses all of female kind
In beauty, and in worth."

25 The envious queen replied, "At least,
You might have excepted me;
In a few hours, I will her bring
Down to a low degree.

"I will her liken to a laidley worm,
30 That warps about the stone,
And not till [Childy Wynd] comes back,


Shall she again be won."

The princess stood at the bower door
Laughing, who could her blame?
35 But e'er the next day's sun went down,
A long worm she became.

For seven miles east, and seven miles west,
And seven miles north, and south,
No blade of grass or corn could grow,
40 So venomous was her mouth.

The milk of seven stately cows
(It was costly her to keep)
Was brought her daily, which she drank
Before she went to sleep.

45 At this day may be seen the cave
Which held her folded up,
And the stone trough, the very same
Out of which she did sup.

Word went east, and word went west,
50 And word is gone over the sea,
That a laidley worm in Spindleston-Heughs
Would ruin the North Country.

Word went east, and word went west,
And over the sea did go;
55 The Child of Wynd got wit of it,
Which filled his heart with woe.

He called straight his merry men all,


They thirty were and three:
"I wish I were at Spindleston,
60 This desperate worm to see.

"We have no time now here to waste,
Hence quickly let us sail:
My only sister Margaret,
Something, I fear, doth ail."

65 They built a ship without delay,
With masts of the rown tree,
With flutring sails of silk so fine,
And set her on the sea.

They went on board; the wind with speed,
70 Blew them along the deep;
At length they spied an huge square tower
On a rock high and steep.

The sea was smooth, the weather clear;
When they approached nigher,
75 King Ida's castle they well knew,
And the banks of Bambroughshire.

The queen look'd out at her bower window,
To see what she could see;
There she espied a gallant ship
80 Sailing upon the sea.

When she beheld the silken sails,
Full glancing in the sun,
To sink the ship she [sent] away
Her witch wives every one.

85 The spells were vain; the hags returned


To the queen in sorrowful mood,
Crying that witches have no power
Where there is rown-tree wood.

Her last effort, she sent a boat,
90 Which in the haven lay,
With armed men to board the ship,
But they were driven away.

The worm lept out, the worm lept down,
She plaited round the stone;
95 And ay as the ship came to the land
She banged it off again.

The Child then ran out of her reach
The ship on Budley-sand,
And jumping into the shallow sea,
100 Securely got to land.

And now he drew his [berry-brown] sword,
And laid it on her head;
And swore, if she did harm to him,
That he would strike her dead.

105 "O quit thy sword, and bend thy bow,
And give me kisses three;
For though I am a poisonous worm,
No hurt I'll do to thee.

"O quit thy sword, and bend thy bow,
110 And give me kisses three;
If I'm not won e'er the sun go down,
Won I shall never be."

He quitted his sword, and bent his bow,


He gave her kisses three;
115 She crept into a hole a worm,
But out stept a lady.

No clothing had this lady fine,
To keep her from the cold;
He took his mantle from him about,
120 And round her did it fold.

He has taken his mantle from him about,
And in it he wrapt her in,
And they are up to Bambrough castle,
As fast as they can win.

125 His absence, and her serpent shape,
The king had long deplored;
He now rejoyced to see them both
Again to him restored.

The queen they wanted, whom they found
130 All pale, and sore afraid,
Because she knew her power must yield
To Childy Wynd's, who said,

"Woe be to thee, thou wicked witch;
An ill death mayest thou dee;
135 As thou my sister hast lik'ned,
So lik'ned shalt thou be.

"I will turn you into a toad,
That on the ground doth wend;
And won, won shalt thou never be,
140 Till this world hath an end."

Now on the sand near Ida's tower,
She crawls a loathsome toad,
And venom spits on every maid
She meets upon her road.

145 The virgins all of Bambrough town
Will swear that they have seen
This spiteful toad, of monstrous size,
Whilst walking they have been.

All folks believe within the shire
150 This story to be true,
And they all run to Spindleston,
The cave and trough to view.

This fact now Duncan Frasier,
Of Cheviot, sings in rhime,
155 Lest Bambroughshire men should forget
Some part of it in time.

v. [21-28]. Compare Young Waters, (iii. 90,) v. 21-28, and Young Beichan and Susie Pye, (iv. 7,) v. 118-124.

v. [31]. Childy Wynd is obviously a corruption of Child Owain.

[83], went.

[101], berry-broad.

LORD DINGWALL.

(See p. [152].)

From Buchan's Ancient Ballads and Songs of the North of Scotland. (i. 204.)

We were sisters, sisters seven,
Bowing down, bowing down;
The fairest women under heaven.
And aye the birks a-bowing.

They kiest kevels them amang,
Wha wou'd to the grenewood gang.

5 The kevels they gied thro' the ha',
And on the youngest it did fa'.

Now she must to the grenewood gang,
To pu' the nuts in grenewood hang.

She hadna tarried an hour but ane,
10 Till she met wi' a highlan' groom.

He keeped her sae late and lang,
Till the evening set, and birds they sang.

He ga'e to her at their parting,
A chain o' gold, and gay gold ring:

15

And three locks o' his yellow hair:
Bade her keep them for evermair.

When six lang months were come and gane,
A courtier to this lady came.

Lord Dingwall courted this lady gay,
20 And so he set their wedding-day.

A little boy to the ha' was sent,
To bring her horse was his intent.

As she was riding the way along,
She began to make a heavy moan.

25 "What ails you, lady," the boy said,
"That ye seem sae dissatisfied?

"Are the bridle reins for you too strong?
Or the stirrups for you too long?"

"But, little boy, will ye tell me,
30 The fashions that are in your countrie?"

"The fashions in our ha' I'll tell,
And o' them a' I'll warn you well.

"When ye come in upon the floor,
His mither will meet you wi' a golden chair.

35 "But be ye maid, or be ye nane,
Unto the high seat make ye boun.

"Lord Dingwall aft has been beguil'd,
By girls whom young men hae defiled.

"He's cutted the paps frae their breast bane,


40 And sent them back to their ain hame."

When she came in upon the floor,
His mother met her wi' a golden chair.

But to the high seat she made her boun':
She knew that maiden she was nane.

45 When night was come, they went to bed,
And ower her breast his arm he laid.

He quickly jumped upon the floor,
And said, "I've got a vile rank whore."

Unto his mother he made his moan,
50 Says, "Mother dear, I am undone.

"Ye've aft tald, when I brought them hame,
Whether they were maid or nane.

"I thought I'd gotten a maiden bright,
I've gotten but a waefu' wight.

55 "I thought I'd gotten a maiden clear,
But gotten but a vile rank whore."

"When she came in upon the floor,
I met her wi' a golden chair.

"But to the high seat she made her boun',
60 Because a maiden she was nane."

"I wonder wha's tauld that gay ladie,
The fashion into our countrie."

"It is your little boy I blame,


Whom ye did send to bring her hame."

65 Then to the lady she did go,
And said, "O Lady, let me know

"Who has defiled your fair bodie?
Ye're the first that has beguiled me."

"O we were sisters, sisters seven,
70 The fairest women under heaven;

"And we kiest kevels us amang,
Wha wou'd to the grenewood gang;

"For to pu' the finest flowers,
To put around our summer bowers.

75 "I was the youngest o' them a',
The hardest fortune did me befa'.

"Unto the grenewood I did gang,
And pu'd the nuts as they down hang.

"I hadna stay'd an hour but ane,
80 Till I met wi' a highlan' groom.

"He keeped me sae late and lang,
Till the evening set, and birds they sang.

"He gae to me at our parting,
A chain of gold, and gay gold ring:

85 "And three locks o' his yellow hair:


Bade me keep them for evermair.

"Then for to show I make nae lie,
Look ye my trunk, and ye will see."

Unto the trunk then she did go,
90 To see if that were true or no.

And aye she sought, and aye she flang,
Till these four things came to her hand.

Then she did to her ain son go,
And said, "My son, ye'll let me know.

95 "Ye will tell to me this thing:—
What did yo wi' my wedding-ring?"

"Mother dear, I'll tell nae lie:
I gave it to a gay ladie.

"I would gie a' my ha's and towers,
100 I had this bird within my bowers."

"Keep well, keep well, your lands and strands,
Ye hae that bird within your hands.

"Now, my son, to your bower ye'll go:
Comfort your ladie, she's full o' woe."

105 Now when nine months were come and gane,
The lady she brought hame a son.

It was written on his breast-bane,


Lord Dingwall was his father's name.

He's ta'en his young son in his arms,
110 And aye he prais'd his lovely charms.

And he has gi'em him kisses three,
And doubled them ower to his ladie.

FRAGMENT OF HYNDE ETIN.

(See p. [179].)

From Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 228.

May Marg'ret stood in her bouer door,
Kaiming doun her yellow hair;
She spied some nuts growin in the wud,
And wish'd that she was there.

5 She has plaited her yellow locks
A little abune her bree;
And she has kilted her petticoats
A little below her knee;
And she's aff to Mulberry wud,
10 As fast as she could gae.

She had na pu'd a nut, a nut,
A nut but barely ane,
Till up started the Hynde Etin,
Says, "Lady! let thae alane."

15 "Mulberry wuds are a' my ain;
My father gied them me,
To sport and play when I thought lang;
And they sall na be tane by thee."

And ae she pu'd the tither berrie,


20 Na thinking o' the skaith;
And said, "To wrang ye, Hynde Etin,
I wad be unco laith."

But he has tane her by the yellow locks,
And tied her till a tree,
25 And said, "For slichting my commands,
An ill death shall ye dree."

He pu'd a tree out o' the wud,
The biggest that was there;
And he howkit a cave monie fathoms deep,
30 And put May Marg'ret there.

"Now rest ye there, ye saucie may;
My wuds are free for thee;
And gif I tak ye to mysell,
The better ye'll like me."

35 Na rest, na rest May Marg'ret took,
Sleep she got never nane;
Her back lay on the cauld, cauld floor,
Her head upon a stane.

"O tak me out," May Marg'ret cried,
40 "O tak me hame to thee;
And I sall be your bounden page
Until the day I dee."

He took her out o' the dungeon deep,
And awa wi' him she's gane;
45 But sad was the day an earl's dochter
Gaed hame wi' Hynde Etin.

It fell out ance upon a day,
Hynde Etin's to the hunting gane;
And he has tane wi' him his eldest son,
50 For to carry his game.

"O I wad ask you something, father,
An ye wadna angry be;"—
"Ask on, ask on, my eldest son,
Ask onie thing at me."

55 "My mother's cheeks are aft times weet,
Alas! they are seldom dry;"—
"Na wonder, na wonder, my eldest son,
Tho' she should brast and die.

"For your mother was an earl's dochter,
60 Of noble birth and fame;
And now she's wife o' Hynde Etin,
Wha ne'er got christendame.

"But we'll shoot the laverock in the lift,
The buntlin on the tree;
65 And ye'll tak them hame to your mother,
And see if she'll comforted be."

"I wad ask ye something, mother,
An' ye wadna angry be;"—
"Ask on, ask on, my eldest son,
70 Ask onie thing at me."

"Your cheeks they are aft times weet,


Alas! they're seldom dry;"—
"Na wonder, na wonder, my eldest son,
Tho' I should brast and die.

75 "For I was ance an earl's dochter,
Of noble birth and fame;
And now I am the wife of Hynde Etin,
Wha ne'er got christendame."

SIR OLUF AND THE ELF-KING'S DAUGHTER.

(See p. [192].)

This is a translation by Jamieson (Popular Ballads and Songs, i. 219), of the Danish Elveskud (Abrahamson, i. 237). Lewis has given a version of the same in the Tales of Wonder, (No. 10.) The corresponding Swedish ballad, The Elf-Woman and Sir Olof (Afzelius, iii. 165) is translated by Keightley, Fairy Mythology, p. 84. This ballad occurs also in Norse, Faroish, and Icelandic.

Of the same class are Elfer Hill, (from the Danish, Jamieson, i. 225; from the Swedish, Keightley, 86; through the German, Tales of Wonder, No. 6:) Sir Olof in the Elve-Dance, (Keightley, 82; Literature and Romance of Northern Europe, by William and Mary Howitt, i. 269:) The Merman and Marstig's Daughter, (from the Danish, Jamieson, i. 210; Tales of Wonder, No. 11:) the Breton tale of Lord Nann and the Korrigan, (Keightley, 433:) three Slavic ballads referred to by Grundtvig, (Elveskud, ii. 111:) Sir Peter of Stauffenbergh and the Mermaid, (from the German, Jamieson, Illustrations of Northern Antiquities, 257,) and the well-known Fischer of Goethe.

Sir Oluf the hend has ridden sae wide,
All unto his bridal feast to bid.

And lightly the elves, sae feat and free,
They dance all under the greenwood tree!

5 And there danced four, and there danced five;
The Elf-King's daughter she reekit bilive.

Her hand to Sir Oluf sae fair and free:
"O welcome, Sir Oluf, come dance wi' me!

"O welcome, Sir Oluf! now lat thy love gae,
10 And tread wi' me in the dance sae gay."

"To dance wi' thee ne dare I, ne may;
The morn it is my bridal day."

"O come, Sir Oluf, and dance wi' me;
Twa buckskin boots I'll give to thee;

15 "Twa buckskin boots, that sit sae fair,
Wi' gilded spurs sae rich and rare.

"And hear ye, Sir Oluf! come dance wi' me;
And a silken sark I'll give to thee;

"A silken sark sae white and fine,
20 That my mother bleached in the moonshine."

"I darena, I maunna come dance wi' thee;


For the morn my bridal day maun be."

"O hear ye, Sir Oluf! come dance wi' me,
And a helmet o' goud I'll give to thee."

25 "A helmet o' goud I well may ha'e;
But dance wi' thee ne dare I, ne may."

"And winna thou dance, Sir Oluf, wi' me?
Then sickness and pain shall follow thee!"

She's smitten Sir Oluf—it strak to his heart;
30 He never before had kent sic a smart;

Then lifted him up on his ambler red;
"And now, Sir Oluf, ride hame to thy bride."

And whan he came till the castell yett,
His mither she stood and leant thereat.

35 "O hear ye, Sir Oluf, my ain dear son,
Whareto is your lire sae blae and wan?"

"O well may my lire be wan and blae,
For I ha'e been in the elf-womens' play."

"O hear ye, Sir Oluf, my son, my pride,
40 And what shall I say to thy young bride?"

"Ye'll say, that I've ridden but into the wood,
To prieve gin my horse and hounds are good."

Ear on the morn, whan night was gane,


The bride she cam wi' the bridal train.

45 They skinked the mead, and they skinked the wine:
"O whare is Sir Oluf, bridegroom mine?"

"Sir Oluf has ridden but into the wood,
To prieve gin his horse and hounds are good."

And she took up the scarlet red,
50 And there lay Sir Oluf, and he was dead!

Ear on the morn, whan it was day,
Three likes were ta'en frae the castle away;

Sir Oluf the leal, and his bride sae fair,
And his mither, that died wi' sorrow and care.

55 And lightly the elves sae feat and free,
They dance all under the greenwood tree!

FRAGMENT OF THE DÆMON LOVER.

(See p. [201].)

(Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 92.)

"I have seven ships upon the sea,
Laden with the finest gold,
And mariners to wait us upon;—
All these you may behold.

5 "And I have shoes for my love's feet,
Beaten of the purest gold,
And lined wi' the velvet soft,
To keep my love's feet from the cold.

"O how do you love the ship," he said,
10 "Or how do you love the sea?
And how do you love the bold mariners
That wait upon thee and me?"

"O I do love the ship," she said,
"And I do love the sea;
15 But woe be to the dim mariners,
That nowhere I can see."

They had not sailed a mile awa',
Never a mile but one,
When she began to weep and mourn,
20 And to think on her little wee son.

"O hold your tongue, my dear," he said,


"And let all your weeping abee,
For I'll soon show to you how the lilies grow
On the banks of Italy."

25 They had not sailed a mile awa',
Never a mile but two,
Until she espied his cloven foot,
From his gay robes sticking thro'.

They had not sailed a mile awa',
30 Never a mile but three,
When dark, dark, grew his eerie looks,
And raging grew the sea.

They had not sailed a mile awa',
Never a mile but four,
35 When the little wee ship ran round about,
And never was seen more!

CONSTANTINE AND ARETE.

See p. [217].

We are indebted for the following recension of Constantine and Areté to Mr. Sophocles of Harvard College. It is constructed from Fauriel's text, combined with a copy in Zambelios's Ἄισματα Δημοτικά, and with a version taken down from the recitation of a Cretan woman. The translation is by the skilful hand of Professor Felton.

We may notice by the way that several versions of this piece are given by Tommaseo, in his Canti Popolari Toscani, etc. iii. 341.

Μάννα μὲ τοὺς ἐννιά σου υἱοὺς καὶ μὲ τὴ μιά σου κόρη,
Τὴν κόρη τὴ μονάκριβη τὴν πολυαγαπημένη,
Τὴν εἶχες δώδεκα χρονῶν κ' ἥλιος δὲν σοῦ τὴν εἶδε,
'Σ τὰ σκοτεινὰ τὴν ἤλουγες, 'ς τ' ἄφεγγα τὴν ἐπλέκες,
5 'Σ τ' ἄστρη καὶ 'ς τὸν αὐγερινὸ τσ' ἔφκειανες τὰ σγουρα της.
Ἡ γειτονιὰ δὲν ἤξερε πῶς εἶχες θυγατέρα,
Καὶ προξενιὰ σοῦ φέρανε ἀπὸ τὴ Βαβυλώνη.
Οἱ ὀκτὼ ἀδερφοὶ δὲν θέλουνε, καὶ ὁ Κωσταντῖνος θέλει·
Δός τηνε, μάννα, δός τηνε τὴν Ἀρετὴ 'ς τὰ ξένα,
10 Νά 'χω κ' ἐγὼ παρηγοριὰ 'ς τὴ στράτα ποῦ διαβαίνω."
"Φρένιμος εἶσαι, Κωσταντῆ, μ' ἄσχημ' ἀπιλογήθης·
Ἂν τύχῃ πίκρα γὴ χαρὰ, ποιὸς θὰ μοῦ τὴνε φέρῃ;"
Τὸ θεὸ τῆς βάνει ἐγγυτὴ καὶ τοὺς ἁγιοὺς μαρτύρους,
Ἂν τύχῃ πίκρα γὴ χαρὰ νὰ πάῃ νὰ τῆς τὴν φέρῃ·
15

Καὶ σάν τὴν ἐπαντρέψανε τὴν Ἀρετὴ 'ς τὰ ξένα,
Ἔρχεται χρόνος δίσεφτος καὶ οἱ ἐννιὰ πεθάναν.
Ἔμεινε ἡ μάννα μοναχὴ σὰν καλαμιὰ 'ς τὸν κάμπο.
'Σ τὰ ὀχτὼ μνήματα δέρνεται, 'ς τὰ ὀχτὼ μυρολογάει,
'Σ τοῦ Κωσταντίνου τὸ θαφτιὸ ἀνέσπα τὰ μαλλιά της·
20 "Σήκου, Κωσταντινάκη μου, τὴν Ἀρετή μου θέλω·
Τὸ θεὸ μοῦ 'βάλες ἐγγυτὴ καὶ τοὺς ἁγιοὺς μαρτύρους,
Ἂν τύχῃ πίκρα γὴ χαρὰ νὰ πᾷς νὰ μοῦ τὴν φέρῃς."
Καὶ μέσα 'ς τὰ μεσάνυχτα ἀπ' τὸ κιβούρι βγαίνει.
Κάνει τὸ σύγνεφο ἄλογο, καὶ τ' ἄστρο σαλιβάρι,
25 Καὶ τὸ φεγγάρι συντροφιὰ καὶ πάει νὰ τὴνε φέρῃ.
Βρίσκει την καὶ χτενίζουνται ὄξου 'ς τὸ φεγγαράκι.
Ἀπομακριὰ τὴν χαιρετάει καὶ ἀπομακριὰ τῆς λέγει.
"Γιὰ ἔλα, Ἀρετούλα μου, κυράνα μας σὲ θέλει."
"Ἀλίμονο, ἀδερφάκι μου, καὶ τί 'νε τούτ' ἡ ὥρα!
30 Ἂν ἦν' χαρὰ 'ς τὸ σπίτι μας, νὰ βάλω τὰ χρυσά μου,
Καὶ ἂν πίκρα, ἀδερφάκι μου, νά 'ρθω ὡς καθὼς εἶμαι.""
"Μηδὲ πίκρα μηδὲ χαρὰ· ἔλα ὡς καθὼς εἶσαι."
'Σ τὴ στράτα ποῦ διαβαίνανε, 'ς τὴ στράτα ποῦ παγαῖναν,
Ἀκοῦν πουλιὰ καὶ κιλαδοῦν, ἀκοῦν πουλιὰ καὶ λένε·
35 "Γιὰ δὲς κοπέλα ὄμορφη νὰ σέρνῃ ἀπεθαμένος!"
"Ἄκουσες, Κωσταντάκη μου, τί λένε τὰ πουλάκια;"
"Πουλάκια 'νε καὶ ἂς κιλαδοῦν, πουλάκια 'νε καὶ ἂς λένε."
Καὶ παρακεῖ ποῦ πάγαιναν καὶ ἄλλα πουλιὰ τοὺς λέγαν·
"Τί βλέπουμε τὰ θλιβερὰ τὰ παραπονεμένα;
40 Νὰ περπατοῦν οἱ ζωντανοὶ μὲ τοὺς ἀπεθαμένους;"
"Ἄκουσες, Κωσταντάκη μου, τί λένε τὰ πουλάκια;"
"Πουλάκια 'νε καὶ ἂς κιλαδοῦν, πουλάκια 'νε καὶ ἂς λένε."
"Φοβοῦμαί σ' ἀδερφάκι μου, καὶ λιβανιὲς μυρίζεις."
"Ἐχτὲς βραδὺς ἐπήγαμε κάτω 'ς τὸν Ἁϊγιάννη,
45 Κ' ἐθύμιασέ μας ὁ παπᾶς μὲ τὸ πολὺ λιβάνι."
Καὶ παρεμπρὸς ποῦ πήγανε, καὶ ἄλλα πουλιὰ τοὺς λένε·;
"Ὦ θὲ μεγαλοδύναμε, μεγάλο θάμα κάνεις!
Τέτοια πανώρηα λυγερὴ νὰ σέρνῃ ἀπεθαμένος!"
Τ' ἄκουσε πάλε ἡ Ἀρετὴ κ' ἐρράγισ' ἡ καρδιά της·
50

"Ἄκουσες, Κωσταντάκη μου, τί λένε τὰ πουλάκια;
Πές μου ποῦ 'ν' τὰ μαλλάκια σου, τὸ πηγουρὸ μουστάκι;"
"Μεγάλη ἀρρώστια μ' εὕρηκε, μ' ἔρρηξε τοῦ θανάτου."
Βρίσκουν τὸ σπίτι κλειδωτὸ κλειδομανταλωμένο,
Καὶ τὰ σπιτοπαράθυρα ποῦ 'ταν ἀραχνιασμένα·
55 "Ἄνοιξε, μάννα μ', ἄνοιξε, καὶ νὰ τὴν Ἀρετή σου."
"Ἂν ἦσαι Χάρος, διάβαινε, καὶ ἄλλα παιδιὰ δὲν ἔχω·
Ἡ δόληα Ἀρετούλα μου λείπει μακριὰ 'ς τὰ ξένα."
"Ἄνοιξε, μάννα μ', ἄνοιξε, κ' ἐγώ' μαι ὁ Κωσταντῆς σου.
Τὸ θιὸ σοῦ 'βάλα ἐγγυτὴ καὶ τοὺς ἁγιοὺς μαρτύρους,
60 Ἂν τύχῃ πίκρα γὴ χαρὰ νὰ πάω νὰ σοῦ τὴν φέρω."
Καὶ ὥστε νὰ 'βγῇ 'ς τὴν πόρτα της, ἐβγῆκε ἡ ψυχή της.

CONSTANTINE AND ARETE (English Translation).

O mother, thou with thy nine sons, and with one only daughter,
Thine only daughter, well beloved, the dearest of thy children,
For twelve years thou didst keep the maid, the sun did not behold her,
Whom in the darkness thou didst bathe, in secret braid her tresses,
And by the starlight and the dawn, didst wind her curling ringlets,
Nor knew the neighborhood that thou didst have so fair a daughter,—
When came to thee from Babylon a woer's soft entreaty:
Eight of the brothers yielded not, but Constantine consented.
"O mother give thine Arete, bestow her on the stranger,
That I may have her solace dear when far away I wander."
"Though thou art wise, my Constantine, thou hast unwisely spoken:
Be woe my lot or be it joy, who will restore my daughter?"

He calls to witness God above, he calls the holy martyrs,
Be woe her lot, or be it joy, he would restore her daughter:
And when they wedded Arete, in that far distant country,
Then comes the year of sorrowing, and all the nine did perish.
All lonely was the mother left, like a reed alone in the meadow;
O'er the eight graves she beats her breast, o'er eight is heard her wailing,
And at the tomb of Constantine, she rends her hair in anguish.
"Arise, my Constantine, arise, for Arete I languish:
On God to witness thou didst call, didst call the holy martyrs,
Be woe my lot or be it joy, thou wouldst restore my daughter."
And forth at midnight hour he fares, the silent tomb deserting,
He makes the cloud his flying steed, he makes the star his bridle,
And by the silver moon convoyed, to bring her home he journeys:
And finds her combing down her locks, abroad by silvery moonlight,
And greets the maiden from afar, and from afar bespeaks her.
"Arise, my Aretula dear, for thee our mother longeth."
"Alas! my brother, what is this? what wouldst at such an hour?

If joy betide our distant home, I wear my golden raiment,
If woe betide, dear brother mine, I go as now I'm standing."
"Think not of joy, think not of woe—return as here thou standest."
And while they journey on the way, all on the way returning,
They hear the Birds, and what they sing, and what the Birds are saying.
"Ho! see the maiden all so fair, a Ghost it is that bears her."
"Didst hear the Birds, my Constantine, didst list to what they're saying?"
"Yes: they are Birds, and let them sing, they're Birds, and let them chatter:"
And yonder, as they journey on, still other Birds salute them.
"What do we see, unhappy ones, ah! woe is fallen on us;—
Lo! there the living sweep along, and with the dead they travel."
"Didst hear, my brother Constantine, what yonder Birds are saying?"
"Yes! Birds are they, and let them sing, they're Birds, and let them chatter."
"I fear for thee, my Brother dear, for thou dost breathe of incense."
"Last evening late we visited the church of Saint Johannes,
And there the priest perfumed me o'er with clouds of fragrant incense."
And onward as they hold their way, still other Birds bespeak them:

"O God, how wondrous is thy power, what miracles thou workest!
A maid so gracious and so fair, a Ghost it is that bears her:"
'Twas heard again by Arete, and now her heart was breaking;
"Didst hearken, brother Constantine, to what the Birds are saying?
Say where are now thy waving locks, thy strong thick beard, where is it?"
"A sickness sore has me befallen, and brought me near to dying."
They find the house all locked and barred, they find it barred and bolted,
And all the windows of the house with cobwebs covered over.
"Unlock, O mother mine, unlock, thine Arete thou seest."
"If thou art Charon, get thee gone—I have no other children:
My hapless Arete afar, in stranger lands is dwelling."
"Unlock, O mother mine, unlock, thy Constantine entreats thee.
I called to witness God above, I called the holy martyrs,
Were woe thy lot, or were it joy, I would restore thy daughter."
And when unto the door she came, her soul from her departed.

THE HAWTHORN TREE.

Ritson's Ancient Songs, ii. 44.

A Mery Ballet of the Hathorne Tre, from a MS. in the Cotton Library, Vespasian, A. xxv. The MS. has "G. Peele" appended to it, but in a hand more modern than the ballad. Mr. Dyce, with very good reason, "doubts" whether Peele is the author of the ballad, but has printed it, Peele's Works, ii. 256. It is given also by Evans, i. 342, and partly in Chappell's Popular Music, i. 64.

The true character of this piece would never be suspected by one reading it in English. The same is true of the German, where the ballad is very common, and much prettier than in English, e.g. Das Mädchen und die Hasel, Das Mädchen und der Sagebaum, Erk's Liederhort, No. 33, five copies; Hoffmann, Schlesische Volkslieder, No. 100, three copies, etc. In Danish and Swedish we find a circumstantial story: Jomfruen i Linden, Grundtvig, No. 66; Linden, Svenska Folkvisor, No. 87. The tree is an enchanted damsel, one of eleven children transformed by a step-mother into various less troublesome things, and the spell can be removed only by a kiss from the king's son. By the intervention of the maiden, this rite is performed, and the beautiful linden is changed to as beautiful a young woman, who of course becomes the

prince's bride. A Wendish ballad resembling the German is given by Haupt and Schmaler, and ballads akin to the Danish, are found in Slovensk and Lithuanian (see Grundtvig).

It was a maide of my countrè,
As she came by a hathorne-tre,
As full of flowers as might be seen,
'She' merveld to se the tree so grene.

5 At last she asked of this tre,
"Howe came this freshness unto the,
And every branche so faire and cleane?
I mervaile that you growe so grene."

The tre 'made' answere by and by:
10 "I have good causse to growe triumphantly;
The swetest dewe that ever be sene
Doth fall on me to kepe me grene."

"Yea," quoth the maid, "but where you growe,
You stande at hande for every blowe;
15 Of every man for to be seen;
I mervaile that you growe so grene."

"Though many one take flowers from me,
And manye a branche out of my tre,
I have suche store they wyll not be sene,
20 For more and more my ['twegges'] growe grene."

"But howe and they chaunce to cut the downe,


And carry thie braunches into the towne?
Then will they never no more be sene
To growe againe so freshe and grene."

25 "Though that you do, yt ys no boote;
Althoughe they cut me to the roote,
Next yere againe I will be sene
To bude my branches freshe and grene.

"And you, faire maide, canne not do so;
30 For yf you let youre maid-hode goe,
Then will yt never no more be sene,
As I with my braunches can growe grene."

The maide wyth that beganne to blushe,
And turned her from the hathorne-bushe;
35 She though[t]e herselffe so faire and clene,
Her bewtie styll would ever growe grene.

Whan that she harde this marvelous dowbte,
She wandered styll then all aboute,
Suspecting still what she would wene,
40 Her maid-heade lost would never be seen.

Wyth many a sighe, she went her waye,
To se howe she made herselff so gay,
To walke, to se, and to be sene,
And so out-faced the hathorne grene.

45 Besides all that, yt put her in feare


To talke with companye anye where,
For feare to losse the thinge that shuld be sene
To growe as were the hathorne grene.

But after this never could I here
50 Of this faire mayden any where,
That ever she was in forest sene
To talke againe of the hathorne grene.

[20]. twedges.

ST. STEPHEN AND HEROD.

Ritson's Ancient Songs, i. 141, Sandys's Christmas Carols,
p. 4: from the Sloane MS., No. 2593 (temp. Hen. VI.)

This curious little ballad was sung as a carol for St. Stephen's Day. Its counterpart is found in Danish (though not in an ancient form), printed in Erik Pontoppidan's book on the relics of Heathenism and Papistry in Denmark, 1736 (Jesusbarnet, Stefan, og Herodes Grundtvig, No. 96). There is also a similar ballad in Faroish. Only a slight trace of the story is now left in the Swedish Staffans Visa (Svenska F.V., No. 99), which is sung as a carol on St. Stephen's Day, as may very well have been the case with the Danish and Faroish ballads too.

The miracle of the roasted cock occurs in many other legends. The earliest mention of it is in Vincent of Beauvais's Speculum Historiale, L. xxv. c. 64. It is commonly ascribed to St. James, sometimes to the Virgin. (See the preface to the ballad in Grundtvig, and to Southey's Pilgrim to Compostella.) We meet with it in another English carol called The Carnal [5] and the Crane, printed in Sandys's collection, p. 152, from a broadside copy, corrupt and almost unintelligible

in places. The stanzas which contain the miracle are the following:

There was a star in the West land,
So bright it did appear
Into King Herod's chamber,
And where King Herod were.

The Wise Men soon espied it,
And told the king on high,
A princely babe was born that night
No king could e'er destroy.

"If this be true," King Herod said,
"As thou tellest unto me,
This roasted cock that lies in the dish
Shall crow full fences [6] three."

The cock soon freshly feather'd was,
By the work of God's own hand,
And then three fences crowed he,
In the dish where he did stand.

"Rise up, rise up, you merry men all,
See that you ready be;
All children under two years old
Now slain they all shall be."

[5] ] crow?

[6] ] rounds?

Seynt Stevene was a clerk in kyng Herowdes halle,
And servyd him of bred and cloth, as ever kyng [befalle].

Stevyn out of kechon cam, wyth boris hed on honde;
He saw a sterr was fayr and bryght over Bedlem stonde.

5 He [kyst] adoun the bores hed, and went into the halle:
"I forsake the, kyng Herowdes, and thi werkes alle.

"I forsak the, kyng Herowdes, and thi werkes alle:
Ther is a chyld in Bedlem born is beter than we alle."

"Quhat [eylyt] the, Stevene? quhat is the befalle?
10 Lakkyt the eyther mete or drynk in kyng Herowdes halle?"

"Lakit me neyther mete ne drynk in kyng Herowdes halle:
Ther is a chyld in Bedlem born is beter than we alle."

"Quhat eylyt the, Stevyn? art thu [wod, or thu gynnyst to brede]?
Lakkyt the eythar gold or [fe, or ony ryche wede]?"

15 "Lakyt 'me' neyther gold ne fe, [ne] non ryche wede;
Ther is a chyld in Bedlem born [xal] helpen us at our nede."

"That is al so soth, Stevyn, al so [soth, i-wys],
As this capon crowe xal that lyth her in myn dysh."

That word was not so sone seyd, that word in that halle,
20 The capon crew, CHRISTUS NATUS EST! among the lordes alle.

"Rysyt up, myn turmentowres, [be to] and al be on,
And ledyt Stevyn out of this town, and stonyt hym wyth ston."

Tokyn [he] Stevene, and stonyd hym in the way;
And therefor is his evyn on Crystes owyn day.

[2]. befalle, befell.

[5]. kyst, cast.

[9]. eylyt, aileth.

[13]. wod, mad: gynnyst to brede, beginnest to entertain capricious fancies, like a woman, &c.

[14]. fe, wages: wede, clothes.

[15]. ne, nor.

[16]. xall, shall.

[17]. soth, true: i-wys, for a certainty.

[21]. be to, by two.

[23]. he, they.

GLOSSARY.

N.B. Figures placed after words denote the pages in which they occur.

Transcriber's Notes

page [47] (line 148) added missing close quotation mark:

Nor keepe me lingering here in paine."

page [221] (lines 73, 74) moved close quotation mark:

"Pray, sir, did you not send for me, By such a messenger?" said she:

page [221] (line 80) deleted extraneous open quotation mark:

"Go in," said he, "and go to bed; I'll see the horse well littered."

page [248]: added missing open quotation mark ("Go on yet a little farther," said the hen-wife, "till thou come to a round green hill ...")

page [250] (line 33) added missing single quotation mark:

"'And sit thou down; and wae, O wae That ever thou was born;

page [259] (lines 47, 48) added missing open quotation mark:

"Our king's dochter, she gaes wi' bairn, And we'll get a' the wyte."

page [263] (line 150) added missing closing single quotation mark:

The Queen o' Elfin she'll cry out, 'True Tam-a-Line's awa'.'

page [276] added missing closing quotation mark:

For him that mensked man wyt mith, Wat sal worth of this were?" &c.

page 288: the line numbering in Lord Dingwall is in error, but has been retained as per the original.

page [295] (line 40) added missing open quotation mark:

"O tak me out," May Marg'ret cried, "O tak me hame to thee;

Page [304], line 5: suspected typo "σγουρα" should read "σγουρά".

Page [304], line 13: suspected typo "βάνει" should read "βάζει" according to Fauriel's text (one source of this poem referred to in the introduction).

Page [305], line 15: suspected typo "σάν" should read "σὰν"

Page [305], line 22: changed "Αν" to "Ἂν"

Page [306], line 59: suspected typo "θιὸ" should read "θεὸ".

Page [306], line 59: changed "ἀγιοὺς" to "ἁγιοὺς".