FOOTNOTES:
[168] Compare No 102, A 13, 4, and No 101, A 13, 4; 23, 4 and 83, 4; 3 and 3; 4 and 91, 2, 5, 6; 5 and 101, 2, 5, 6; 71, 82-4 and 13; 93 and 244. Also No 102, A 3, and No 101, B 13; 41, 2, 51, 4 and 151, 2, 5, 6; 8 and 16. Also, No 102, A 1, and No 101, C 3; 8 and 6.
[103]
ROSE THE RED AND WHITE LILY
[A]. 'Rose the Red and White Lilly,' Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 1.
[B]. 'Rose the Red and White Lillie,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 67.
[C]. 'The Wedding of Robin Hood and Little John,' Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 69.
A was No 6 of the fifteen ballads written down by Mrs Brown for William Tytler in 1783: Anderson, in Nichols's Illustrations, VII, 176. This copy was printed by Scott in his Minstrelsy, II, 60, 1802, "chiefly from Mrs Brown's MS.," but with numerous alterations. Kinloch's annotated copy of his Ancient Scottish Ballads supplies an additional stanza of C; the 17th.
The story in A is that Rose the Red and White Lily have a bad step-mother, who, however, has two good sons that love these maids: Brown Robin, Lily, and Arthur, Rose. The maids build a bower, in which the young people make very merry, and the step-mother, to spoil sport, tells her sons that they must sail the sea. Brown Robin goes to the wood, and Arthur to the king's court. The maids disguise themselves as men, and take service with their lovers: White Lily under the name of Roge the Round, and Rose the Red under that of Sweet Willy. Before they part they make a mutual vow that at three blasts of a horn the one shall come to the other's help. Once upon a time, when Robin and his men are putting the stone, Roge sets it seven foot beyond all the rest, but, having exerted herself too much in so doing, is fain to lean her back against an oak and utters a moan, by which Brown Robin perceives that Roge is a woman. Forty weeks after this Roge has occasion for the aid of a bower-wife. Brown Robin proffers his help, but it is declined; nevertheless, with an apparent but not a real inconsistency, the lady asks him to blow her horn, for she has a brother at the court who will come to her upon the sound. Robin replies that if she has a brother whom she loves better than him she may blow the horn herself. This she does, and Sweet Willy comes at once. Brown Robin will let no man enter the bower without a fight. Rose the Red is wounded, and avows herself to be a woman. Brown Robin is distressed: he wished never to see a woman's blood, for the sake of a maid named White Lily. Roge the Round reveals herself as that same. Word comes to the king's court that Brown Robin's man has borne a son, and the king declares that he will go to the wood to inquire into this marvel. Arthur will go with him, to find a foot-page who had left him. Arrived at the wood, Arthur blows his horn, and Sweet Willy comes running to him. Arthur asks the page why he had run away, and is told that it was to see a brother that lives in the wood. The king enters the bower, and finds White Lily nursing her son. This leads to an explanation on the part of Rose the Red. Brown Robin, coming in from hunting, starts to see the king. The king bids him have no fear, but quit the wood and come to court. Brown Robin and White Lily, Arthur and Rose the Red, go to church and are married.
In B the two maids, ill-treated by their step-mother, betake themselves to the wood, where they meet, not Brown Robin, but Robin Hood, and take service with him. Rose and Lily change parts; Rose, under the name of Nicholas, consorting with Robin Hood, and Lily, alias Roger Brown, with Little John. It is not, however, Robin Hood and Little John who turn out to be their lovers, but "a lad in the company," and "another youth among the company," stanzas 30, 51. Nothing is said of the king.
In the fragmentary C the maids are daughters of a king. Their proper names are not given, and we do not learn that the stepmother has a pair of sons. In consequence of the harshness of their step-mother, these king's daughters go to the wood as Nicholas and Rogee Roun, to seek Robin Hood, and they are discovered to be maids by a song which Rogee sings. Rogee is wedded to Robin Hood, and Nicholas to Little John.
It is easy to see that the Robin Hood of B, C, was suggested by the Brown Robin of A. The name Barnsdale in A 12, 51 has certainly been adopted from the Robin Hood cycle, but in the present ballad is the residence of the father of Rose and Lily, not that of Robin Hood.
The only part of the ballad which has the stamp of indubitably ancient tradition is the child-birth in the wood, and this scene is the rightful, and perhaps exclusive, property of 'Leesome Brand,' No 15: see I, 182. A 24-29, B 40-47, are found again in '[Willie o Douglas Dale],' [A] 15-17, 22, 23, [B] 18, 19, 22, 24, [C] 8-10, and the first part of 'Willie o Douglas Dale,' as well as of the ballad which immediately precedes the present, commonly called 'The Birth of Robin Hood,' is a variation of 'Leesome Brand.'
Robin Hood has no love-story in any ancient ballad, though his name has been foisted into modern love-ballads, as in 'Robin Hood and the Tanner's Daughter,' No 8 C. Maid Marian is a late accretion. There is a piteously vulgar broadside, in which Maid Marian, being parted from Robin Hood, dresses herself "like a page" (but armed fully), meets Robin Hood, also under disguise, and has an hour's fight with him. There is so far a resemblance in this to A 30 ff, B 49, that a woman disguised as a page fights with Robin Hood. I suppose the resemblance to be accidental, but whether it be or not, the question of 'Rose the Red and White Lily' being originally a Robin Hood ballad is not affected.
A 3, B 5, is like C 6 of '[The Clerk's Twa Sons o Owsenford],' No 72.
Scott's copy is translated by Doenniges, p. 40.
A
Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 1.
1 O Rose the Red and White Lilly,
Their mother dear was dead,
And their father married an ill woman,
Wishd them twa little guede.
2 Yet she had twa as fu fair sons
As eer brake manis bread,
And the tane of them loed her White Lilly,
An the tither lood Rose the Red.
3 O biggit ha they a bigly bowr,
And strawn it oer wi san,
And there was mair mirth i the ladies' bowr
Than in a' their father's lan.
4 But out it spake their step-mother,
Wha stood a little foreby:
I hope to live and play the prank
Sal gar your loud sang ly.
5 She's calld upon her eldest son:
Come here, my son, to me;
It fears me sair, my eldest son,
That ye maun sail the sea.
6 'Gin it fear you sair, my mither dear,
Your bidding I maun dee;
But be never war to Rose the Red
Than ye ha been to me.'
7 'O had your tongue, my eldest son,
For sma sal be her part;
You'll nae get a kiss o her comely mouth
Gin your very fair heart should break.'
8 She's calld upon her youngest son:
Come here, my son, to me;
It fears me sair, my youngest son,
That ye maun sail the sea.
9 'Gin it fear you sair, my mither dear,
Your bidding I maun dee;
But be never war to White Lilly
Than ye ha been to me.'
10 'O haud your tongue, my youngest son,
For sma sall be her part;
You'll neer get a kiss o her comely mouth
Tho your very fair heart should break.'
11 When Rose the Red and White Lilly
Saw their twa loves were gane,
Then stopped ha they their loud, loud sang,
And tane up the still mournin;
And their step-mother stood listnin by,
To hear the ladies' mean.
12 Then out it spake her White Lilly:
My sister, we'll be gane;
Why should we stay in Barnsdale,
To waste our youth in pain?
13 Then cutted ha they their green cloathing
A little below their knee,
An sae ha they there yallow hair,
A little aboon there bree;
An they've doen them to haely chapel,
Was christened by Our Lady.
14 There ha they chang'd their ain twa names,
Sae far frae ony town,
An the tane o them hight Sweet Willy,
An the tither o them Roge the Roun.
15 Between this twa a vow was made,
An they sware it to fulfil;
That at three blasts o a bugle-horn,
She'd come her sister till.
16 Now Sweet Willy's gane to the kingis court,
Her true-love for to see,
An Roge the Roun to good green wood,
Brown Robin's man to be.
17 As it fell out upon a day
They a' did put the stane,
Full seven foot ayont them a'
She gard the puttin-stane gang.
18 She leand her back against an oak,
And gae a loud Ohone!
Then out it spake him Brown Robin,
But that's a woman's moan!
19 'O ken ye by my red rose lip?
Or by my yallow hair?
Or ken ye by my milk-white breast?
For ye never saw it bare?'
20 'I ken no by your red rose lip,
Nor by your yallow hair;
Nor ken I by your milk-white breast,
For I never saw it bare;
But come to your bowr whaever sae likes,
Will find a lady there.'
21 'O gin ye come to my bowr within,
Thro fraud, deceit, or guile,
Wi this same bran that's in my han,
I swear I will the kill.'
22 'But I will come thy bowr within,
An spear nae leave,' quoth he;
'An this same bran that's i my han
I sall ware back on the.'
23 About the tenth hour of the night
The ladie's bower-door was broken,
An eer the first hour of the day
The bonny knave-bairn was gotten.
24 When days were gane, and months were run,
The lady took travailing,
And sair she cry'd for a bowr-woman,
For to wait her upon.
25 Then out it spake him Brown Robin:
Now what needs a' this din?
For what coud any woman do
But I coud do the same?
26 ''Twas never my mither's fashion,' she says,
'Nor sall it ever be mine,
That belted knights shoud eer remain
Where ladies dreed their pine.
27 'But ye take up that bugle-horn,
An blaw a blast for me;
I ha a brother i the kingis court
Will come me quickly ti.'
28 'O gin ye ha a brither on earth
That ye love better nor me,
Te blaw the horn yoursel,' he says,
'For ae blast I winna gie.'
29 She's set the horn till her mouth,
And she's blawn three blasts sae shrill;
Sweet Willy heard i the kingis court,
And came her quickly till.
30 Then up it started Brown Robin,
An an angry man was he:
'There comes nae man this bowr within
But first must fight wi me.'
31 O they hae fought that bowr within
Till the sun was gaing down,
Till drops o blude frae Rose the Red
Came hailing to the groun.
32 She leand her back against the wa,
Says, Robin, let a' be;
For it is a lady born and bred
That's foughten sae well wi thee.
33 O seven foot he lap a back;
Says, Alas, and wae is me!
I never wisht in a' my life,
A woman's blude to see;
An a' for the sake of ae fair maid
Whose name was White Lilly.
34 Then out it spake her White Lilly,
An a hearty laugh laugh she:
She's lived wi you this year an mair,
Tho ye kentna it was she.
35 Now word has gane thro a' the lan,
Before a month was done,
That Brown Robin's man, in good green wood,
Had born a bonny young son.
36 The word has gane to the kingis court,
An to the king himsel;
'Now, by my fay,' the king could say,
'The like was never heard tell!'
37 Then out it spake him Bold Arthur,
An a hearty laugh laugh he:
I trow some may has playd the loun,
And fled her ain country.
38 'Bring me my steed,' then cry'd the king,
'My bow and arrows keen;
I'l ride mysel to good green wood,
An see what's to be seen.'
39 'An't please your grace,' said Bold Arthur,
'My liege, I'll gang you wi,
An try to fin a little foot-page,
That's strayd awa frae me.'
40 O they've hunted i the good green wood
The buck but an the rae,
An they drew near Brown Robin's bowr,
About the close of day.
41 Then out it spake the king in hast,
Says, Arthur, look an see
Gin that be no your little foot-page
That leans against yon tree.
42 Then Arthur took his bugle-horn,
An blew a blast sae shrill;
Sweet Willy started at the sound,
An ran him quickly till.
43 'O wanted ye your meat, Willy?
Or wanted ye your fee?
Or gat ye ever an angry word,
That ye ran awa frae me?'
44 'I wanted nought, my master dear;
To me ye ay was good;
I came but to see my ae brother,
That wons in this green wood.'
45 Then out it spake the king again,
Says, Bonny boy, tell to me
Wha lives into yon bigly bowr,
Stands by yon green oak tree?
46 'O pardon me,' says Sweet Willy,
'My liege, I dare no tell;
An I pray you go no near that bowr,
For fear they do you fell.'
47 'O baud your tongue, my bonny boy,
For I winna be said nay;
But I will gang that bowr within,
Betide me weel or wae.'
48 They've lighted off their milk-white steeds,
An saftly enterd in,
An there they saw her White Lilly,
Nursing her bonny yong son.
49 'Now, by the rood,' the king coud say,
This is a comely sight;
I trow, instead of a forrester's man,
This is a lady bright!'
50 Then out it spake her Rose the Red,
An fell low down on her knee:
O pardon us, my gracious liege,
An our story I'll tell thee.
51 Our father was a wealthy lord,
That wond in Barnsdale;
But we had a wicked step-mother,
That wrought us meickle bale.
52 Yet she had twa as fu fair sons
As ever the sun did see,
An the tane o them lood my sister dear,
An the tither sayd he lood me.
53 Then out it spake him Bold Arthur,
As by the king he stood:
Now, by the faith o my body,
This shoud be Rose the Red!
54 Then in it came him Brown Robin,
Frae hunting o the deer,
But whan he saw the king was there,
He started back for fear.
55 The king has taen him by the hand,
An bade him naithing dread;
Says, Ye maun leave the good green wood,
Come to the court wi speed.
56 Then up he took White Lilly's son,
An set him on his knee;
Says, Gin ye live to wiald a bran,
My bowman ye sall bee.
57 The king he sent for robes of green,
An girdles o shinning gold;
He gart the ladies be arrayd
Most comely to behold.
58 They've done them unto Mary Kirk,
An there gat fair wedding,
An fan the news spread oer the lan,
For joy the bells did ring.
59 Then out it spake her Rose the Red,
An a hearty laugh laugh she:
I wonder what would our step-dame say,
Gin she this sight did see!
B
Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 67.
1 Now word is gane thro a' the land,
Gude seal that it sae spread!
To Rose the Red and White Lillie,
Their mither dear was dead.
2 Their father's married a bauld woman,
And brought her ower the sea,
Twa sprightly youths, her ain young sons,
Intill her companie.
3 They fixd their eyes on those ladies,
On shipboard as they stood,
And sware, if ever they wan to land,
These ladies they woud wed.
4 But there was nae a quarter past,
A quarter past but three,
Till these young luvers a' were fond
O other's companie.
5 The knights they harped i their bower,
The ladies sewd and sang;
There was mair mirth in that chamer
Than a' their father's lan.
6 Then out it spak their step-mither,
At the stair-foot stood she:
I'm plagued wi your troublesome noise!
What makes your melodie?
7 O Rose the Red, ye sing too loud,
White Lillie, your voice is strang;
But gin I live and brook my life,
I'se gar you change your sang.
8 'We maunna change our loud, loud song
For nae duke's son ye'll bear;
We winna change our loud, loud song,
But aye we'll sing the mair.
9 'We never sung the sang, mither,
But we'll sing ower again;
We'll take our harps into our hands,
And we'll harp, and we'll sing.'
10 She's calld upon her twa young sons,
Says, Boun ye for the sea;
Let Rose the Red and White Lillie
Stay in their bower wi me.
11 'O God forbid,' said her eldest son,
'Nor lat it ever be,
Unless ye were as kind to our luves
As gin we were them wi.'
12 'Yet never the less, my pretty sons,
Ye'll boun you for the faem;
Let Rose the Red and White Lillie
Stay in their bowers at hame.'
13 'O when wi you we came alang,
We felt the stormy sea,
And where we go, ye neer shall know,
Nor shall be known by thee.'
14 Then wi her harsh and boisterous word
She forc'd these lads away,
While Rose the Red and White Lillie
Still in their bowers did stay.
15 But there was not a quarter past,
A quarter past but ane,
Till Rose the Red in rags she gaed,
White Lillie's claithing grew thin.
16 Wi bitter usage every day,
The ladies they thought lang;
'Ohon, alas!' said Rose the Red,
'She's gard us change our sang.
17 'But we will change our own fu names,
And we'll gang frae the town,
Frae Rose the Red and White Lillie
To Nicholas and Roger Brown.
18 'And we will cut our green claithing
A little aboon our knee,
And we will on to gude greenwood,
Twa bauld bowmen to be.'
19 'Ohon, alas!' said White Lillie,
'My fingers are but sma,
And tho my hands woud wield the bow,
They winna yield at a'.'
20 'O had your tongue now, White Lillie,
And lat these fears a' be;
There's naething that ye're awkward in
But I will learn thee.'
21 Then they are on to gude greenwood,
As fast as gang coud they;
O then they spied him Robin Hood,
Below a green aik tree.
22 'Gude day, gude day, kind sir,' they said,
'God make you safe and free:'
'Gude day, gude day,' said Robin Hood,
'What is your wills wi me?'
23 'Lo here we are, twa banishd knights,
Come frae our native hame;
We're come to crave o thee service,
Our king will gie us nane.'
24 'If ye be twa young banishd knights,
Tell me frae what countrie:'
'Frae Anster town into Fifeshire;
Ye know it as well as we.'
25 'If a' be true that ye hae said,
And tauld just now to me,
Ye're welcome, welcome, every one;
Your master I will be.
26 'Now ye shall eat as I do eat,
And lye as I do lye;
Ye salna wear nae waur claithing
Nor my young men and I.'
27 Then they went to a ruinous house,
And there they enterd in,
And Nicholas fed wi Robin Hood,
And Roger wi Little John.
28 But it fell ance upon a day
They were at the putting-stane,
Whan Rose the Red she viewd them a',
As they stood on the green.
29 She hit the stane then wi her foot,
And kepd it wi her knee,
And spaces three aboon them a'
I wyte she gard it flee.
30 She sat her back then to a tree,
And gae a loud Ohon!
A lad spak in the companie,
I hear a woman's moan.
31 'How know you that, young man?' she said,
'How know you that o me?
Did eer ye see me in that place
Ae foot my ground to flee?
32 'Or know ye by my cherry cheeks?
Or by my yellow hair?
Or by the paps on my breast-bane?
Ye never saw them bare.'
33 'I know not by your cherry cheeks,
Nor by your yellow hair;
But I know by your milk-white chin,
On it there grows nae hair.
34 'I never saw you in that cause
Ae foot your ground to flee;
I've seen you stan wi sword in han
Mang men's blood to the knee.
35 'But if I come your bower within,
By night, or yet by day,
I shall know before I go
If ye be man or may.'
36 'O if you come my bower within,
By night, or yet by day,
As soon's I draw my trusty brand,
Nae lang ye'll wi me stay.'
37 But he is haunted to her bower,
Her bigly bower o stane,
Till he has got her big wi bairn,
And near sax months she's gane.
38 Whan three mair months were come and gane,
They gaed to hunt the hynde;
She wont to be the foremost ane,
But now stayd far behynd.
39 Her luver looks her in the face,
And thus to her said he;
I think your cheeks are pale and wan;
Pray, what gaes warst wi thee?
40 O want ye roses to your breast?
Or ribbons to your sheen?
Or want ye as muckle o dear bought luve
As your heart can conteen?
41 'I want nae roses to my breast,
Nae ribbons to my sheen;
Nor want I as muckle dear bought luve
As my heart can conteen.
42 'I'd rather hae a fire behynd,
Anither me before,
A gude midwife at my right side,
Till my young babe be bore.'
43 'I'll kindle a fire wi a flint-stane,
Bring wine in a green horn;
I'll be midwife at your right side,
Till your young babe be born.'
44 'That was neer my mither's custom,
Forbid that it be mine!
A knight stan by a lady bright
Whan she drees a' her pine.
45 'There is a knight in gude greenwood,
If that he kent o me,
Thro stock and stane and the hawthorn
Sae soon's he woud come me tee.'
46 'If there be a knight in gude greenwood
Ye like better than me,
If ance he come your bower within,
Ane o us twa shall dee.'
47 She set a horn to her mouth,
And she blew loud and shrill;
Thro stock and stane and the hawthorn
Brave Roger came her till.
48 'Wha's here sae bauld,' the youth replied,
'Thus to encroach on me?'
'O here I am,' the knight replied,
'Hae as much right as thee.'
49 Then they fought up the gude greenwood,
Sae did they down the plain;
They niddart ither wi lang braid-swords,
Till they were bleedy men.
50 Then out it spak the sick woman,
Sat under the greenwood tree;
O had your han, young man, she said,
She's a woman as well as me.
51 Then out it speaks anither youth,
Amang the companie;
Gin I had kent what I ken now,
'T is for her I woud dee.
52 'O wae mat worth you, Rose the Red,
An ill death mat ye dee!
Altho ye tauld upo yoursell,
Ye might hae heald on me.'
53 'O for her sake I was content
For to gae ower the sea;
For her I left my mither's ha,
Tho she proves fause to me.'
54 But whan these luvers were made known,
They sung right joyfullie,
Nae blyther was the nightingale,
Nor bird that sat on tree.
55 Now they hae married these ladies,
Brought them to bower and ha;
And now a happy life they lead;
I wish sae may we a'.
C
Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, annotated by the editor, p. 69.
1 The king has wedded an ill woman,
Into some foreign land;
His daughters twa, that stood in awe,
They bravely sat and sang.
2 Then in became their step-mother,
Sae stately steppin ben:
'O gin I live and bruik my life,
I'll gar ye change your tune.'
3 'O we sang neer that sang, ladie,
But we will sing again;
And ye neer boor that son, ladie,
We wad lay our love on.
4 'But we will cow our yellow locks
A little abune our bree,
And we will on to gude greenwud,
And serve for meat and fee.
5 'And we will kilt our gay claithing
A little below the knee,
And we will on to gude greenwud,
Gif Robin Hood we see.
6 'And we will change our ain twa names,
When we gae frae the toun;
The tane we will call Nicholas,
The tither Rogee Roun.'
7 Then they hae cowd their yellow locks
A little abune their bree,
And they are on to gude greenwud,
To serve for meat and fee.
8 And they hae kilt their gay claithing
A little below their knee,
And they are on to gud greenwud,
Gif Robin Hood they see.
9 And they hae chang'd thair ain twa names,
Whan they gaed frae the toun;
The tane they've called Nicholas,
The tither Rogee Roun.
10 And they hae staid in gude greenwud,
And never a day thoucht lang,
Till it fell ance upon a day
That Rogee sang a sang.
11 'Whan we were in our father's bouer,
We sewd the silken seam;
But now we walk the gude greenwud,
And bear anither name.
12 'When we were in our father's ha,
We wore the beaten gold;
But now we wear the shield sae sharp;
Alas, we'll die with cold!'
13 Then up bespak him Robin Hood,
As he to them drew near:
'Instead of boys to carry the bow,
Two ladies we've got here'
14 So they had not been in gud greenwud
A twalmonth and a day,
Till Rogee Roun was as big wi bairn
As onie lady could gae.
15 'O wae be to my stepmother,
That garrd me leave my hame!
For I'm wi bairn to Robin Hood,
And near nine month is gane.
16 'O wha will be my bouer-woman?
Na bouer-woman is here;
O wha will be my bouer-woman,
Whan that sad time draws near?'
17 Then up bespak him Robin Hood,
At the foot o yon greenwud tree:
O hold your tongue, fair Rogee Roun,
For married ye sall be.
18 The tane was wedded to Robin Hood,
And the tither to Little John;
And it was a' owing to their stepmother,
That garrd them leave their hame.
A.
Written, like all the ballads in the MS., in stanzas of two long lines.
1. Anderson cites this stanza, giving the last line, Wist them twa little quee'd.
81. younges.
83. youngst.
131. greed.
214. sear.
263. beltest kights.
474. well?
491. the the king.
Scott's variations, the contrary not being alleged, must be supposed to be his own. Scott inserts after 10:
Sae Bauld Arthur's gane to our king's court,
His hie chamberlain to be;
But Brown Robin he has slain a knight,
And to grene wood he did flee.
115, 6 are 121, 2 in the MS., making a stanza with 121, 2; 123, 4 make an eight-line stanza with 13. 115, 6 are omitted by Scott.
135, 6 make the last half of a stanza in Scott, which begins:
And left hae they that bonny bour,
To cross the raging sea.
203, 4 are omitted by Scott.
335, 6 make the last half of a stanza in Scott, which runs:
And that all for the knightly vow
I swore to Our Ladye,
But mair, etc.
57 follows 53 in Scott, and 59 is omitted.
B.
72. While Lillie.
432. horn green.
[104]
PRINCE HEATHEN
[A]. 'The Disconsolate Lady,' The Jovial Rake's Garland, n. d., p. 6, No 4.
[B]. 'Prince Heathen,' Buchan's MSS, I, 97; Motherwell's MS., p. 665.
The fragment A (pointed out to me by Svend Grundtvig) is partly explained by B, which is no doubt some stall-copy, reshaped from tradition. Motherwell's copy was derived from Buchan.
The story, which reads like an old one extremely corrupted, is none too intelligible even in the longer form. Lady Margery is sitting in her bower-door. Prince Heathen comes by and gives her a ring. She refuses him her love. He swears that he will make her greet; she swears that he shall not. He takes her maidenhead: still she will not greet. He tells her that he has killed her father, mother, and seven brothers: still she will not greet. He puts her in a vault of stone, fastened with five and thirty locks: she will not greet [go, A], but rues. He comes back from the mountains, and asks her how she is faring. Dying, she says. He takes her out upon the green, allowing her no female service, and she brings forth a son. How is it with her now? Dying. She asks for a drink of water: he will not give her a drop until she wraps up her young son. She has nothing to wrap the babe in; he gives her his horse-sheet; her tears fall fast. "Bonny may, now you greet!" he exclaims ["will you go now?" A]. But she greets not for him; it is for her young son, wrapped so roughly. Prince Heathen, satisfied, as far as we can see, now that he has subdued her proud will, orders his son to be rolled in silk and washed in milk, according to the usage of Scottish nursery: see No 5, B 61, C 82, 83, E 32, F 57, G 33; No 20, C 8; No 63, B 35, C 35, F 22, J 47; No 101, A 25. Having broken her spirit, he loves her well.
A
The Jovial Rake's Garland, n. d., p. 6, No 4, Bodleian Library, Douce PP, 164.
1 Lady Margery May sits in her bower,
Sewing at her seem;
By there comes a heathen knight,
From her her maidenhead has tane.
2 He has put her in a tower strong,
With double locks on fifty doors:
'Lady Margery May, will you ga now?'
'O ye heathen knight, not yet for you.
3 'I am asking, you heathen knight;
What I am asking will you grant to me?
Will ye let one of your waitmen
A drink of your well bring to me?'
4 'Meat nor drink you shall never get,
Nor out of that shall you never come,
Meat nor drink shall you never get,
Until you bear to me daughter or son.'
5 Thus time drew on, and further on,
For travail came this young lady to;
She travailed up, so did she down,
But lighter could she never be.
6 'An asking, an asking, you heathen knight;
An asking will you grant to me?
Will you give me a scread of silk,
For to row your young son wi?'
7 He took the horse-sheet in his hand,
The tears came twinkling down:
'Lady Margaret May, will ye ga now?'
'O ye heathen knight, not yet for you.'
8 'I'll wash my young son with the milk,
I will dry my young son with the silk;
For hearts will break, and bands will bow;
So dear will I love my lady now!'
B
Buchan's MSS, I, 97; Motherwell's MS., p. 665.
1 Lady Margaret sat in her bower-door,
Sewing at her silken seem,
When by it came Prince Heathen then,
An gae to her a gay gold ring.
2 He turnd about, an gied a bow;
She said, Begone, I love na you;
When he sware by his yellow hair
That he woud gar her greet fu sair.
3 But she sware by her milk-white skin
Prince Heathen shoud gar her greet nane:
'O bonny may, winna ye greet now?'
'Ye heathenish dog, nae yet for you.'
4 He's taen her in his arms twa,
Laid her between him an the wa,
An ere he let her free again,
Her maidenhead frae her he's taen.
'O bonny may, winna ye greet now?'
'Ye heathenish dog, nae yet for you.'
5 'I killd your father in his bed,
And your gay mother by his side,
And your seven brothers, ane by ane,
And they were seven pretty men.
O bonny may, winna ye greet now?'
'Ye heathenish dog, nae yet for you.'
6 'I'll put you in a vault o stone,
Where five an thirty locks hing on;
Naebody there then shall you see,
For I will keep the keys wi me.
O bonny may, winna ye greet now?'
'Ye heathenish dog, nae yet for you.'
7 He's put her in a vault o stone,
Where five an thirty locks hing on;
Naebody there coud eer her see,
Prince Heathen kept the keys him wi.
But ae she cried, What shall I do!
The heathenish dog has gart me rue.
8 Prince Heathen from the mountains came,
Attended by his armed men,
And he's gane to the bonny may,
And to the prison where she lay:
'O bonny may, what do you now?'
'Ye heathenish dog, dying for you.'
9 'I'll take you out upon the green,
Where women ye shall neer see ane,
But only me and my young men,
Till ye bring daughter hame or son.
O bonny may, what do you now?'
'Ye heathenish dog, dying for you.'
10 He's taen her out upon the green,
Where she saw women never ane,
But only him and 's merry young men,
Till she brought hame a bonny young son.
'O bonny may, what do you now?'
'Ye heathenish dog, dying for you.
11 'A drink, a drink, frae Prince Heathen's hand,
Though it were frae yon cauld well strong!'
'O neer a drap, Prince Heathen,' said one,
'Till ye row up your bonny young son.'
'How can I row up my bonny young son,
When I hae naething to row him in?'
12 'I will lend you my horse's sheet,
That will row him baith head and feet.'
As soon's she took it in her han,
Tears oer her cheeks down rapping ran.
'O bonny may, ye do greet now:'
'Ye heathenish dog, but nae for you.
13 'But a' is for my bonny young son;
Your sheets are rough to row him in;
Ohon, alas, sair may I rue
That eer I saw such rogues as you!'
14 'Ye'll row my young son in the silk,
An ye will wash him wi the milk,
An lay my lady very saft,
That I may see her very aft.'
When hearts are broken, bands will bow;
Sae well's he loved his lady now!
A.
33. writmen.
52. too.
B.
112. wells. Motherwell MS. well.
There are some trifling deviations in Motherwell's copy.
[105]
THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON
a. Printed for P. Brooksby, Boxburghe Ballads, II, 457. b. Printed for J. Walter, Douce Ballads, II, fol. 229. c. Printed for P. Brooksby, Pepys Ballads, III, 258, No 256. d. Printed for P. Brooksby, Roxburghe Ballads, IV, 56. e. Printed for P. Brooksby, Douce Ballads, II, fol. 230. f. An Aldermary Churchyard copy.
Reprinted in Percy's Reliques, III, 133, 1765, from the Pepys copy, c, but "with some improvements, communicated by a lady as she heard the same repeated in her youth;" that is, in fact, a few casual verbal variations, attributable to imperfect recollection of a broadside. There are much better in a copy which I have received from an Irish lady, partly made over by secondary tradition. Reprinted also by Ritson, A Select Collection of English Songs, II, 234, 1783, apparently from a, with an arbitrary change in st. 82, and one or two other variations. Mr F. H. Stoddard informs me that 'The Bailiff's Daughter' is still very much sung, and may be heard any day at a country cricket-match.
A fond youth and a coy maid, a bailiff's daughter, having been parted seven years, the maid disguises herself to go in quest of her lover, and meets him on her way. He asks her whether she knows the bailiff's daughter. The bailiff's daughter is dead long ago, she replies. Then he will go into a far country. The maid, assured of his faith, reveals herself, and is ready to be his bride.
This is the counterpart of a ballad found in other languages (and represented in English by Percy's cento 'The Friar of Orders Gray,' Reliques, I, 225, 1765), in which a man tells a woman that the object of her affection, lover, or more commonly husband, is dead. So runs the story in the following:
Italian. Marcoaldi, Canti popolari umbri, etc., p. 151, 'La prova d'amore,' Piedmontese; Gianandrea, C. p. marchigiani, p. 270, No 7, 'La prova d'amore;' Ferraro, C. p. monferrini, p. 60, No 41, 'Il ritorno,' and C. p. di Ferrara, Cento e Pontelagoscuro, p. 16, No 4, p. 105, No 18; Bernoni, C. p. veneziani, Punt. IX, No 1, 'Il ritorno dalla guerra;' Wolf, Volkslieder aus Venetien, No 91, 'La ragazza ed i soldati;' Bolza, Canzoni p. comasche, No 53, 'Il riconoscimento;' Finamore, Storie p. abruzzesi, Archivio, I, 91, No 6, 'Rusine e Ddiamóre;' Kestner, in Reifferscheid, Westfälische V. 1., p. 156, Roman.
Spanish. 'Caballero de lejas tierras,' Juan de Ribera, Nueve Romances, 1605, in Duran, I, 175, No 318, Wolf y Hofmann, Primavera, II, 88, No 156, and a traditional version in a note of Duran, as above, repeated in Primavera. Catalan. 'La vuelta del peregrino,' Milá, Observaciones, p. 111, No 12, 'El peregrino,' Romancerillo, p. 154, No 203; 'La tornada del pelegrí,' Briz, V, 65.
Portuguese. 'Bella Infanta,' Almeida-Garrett, II, 7; Bellermann, p. 100, No 12; Braga, C. p. do Archipelago açoriano, p. 298, No 41, Romanceiro Geral, p. 1, 'Dona Infanta,' p. 4, 'Dona Catherina;' Coelho, in Zeitschrift für romanische Philologie, III, 63, 1879 (imperfect).
Romaic. '[a]Ἡ αναγνωρισις],' Zambelios, p. 718, No 5, Kind, Anthologie, 1861, p. 126, No 5, Passow, No 442: '[a]Ἡ πιστη συζυγος],' Evlambios, p. 58, Marcellus, I, 332, Passow, No 444; Tommaseo, III, 148, Passow, No 445, and III, 150, Passow, No 446; Schmidt, Griechische M., S., u. V. 1., p. 192, No 57 (see note, p. 272); Marcellus, I, 328, Passow, No 441; '[a]Αναγνωρισμος],' Chasiotis, p. 89, No 28; Aravandinos, Nos 347-349, pp. 209-211; '[a]Το γυρισμα],' Oikonomides, p. 132; Jeannaraki, p. 237, No 300, with perverted conclusion; Fauriel, II, 396, Passow, No 447 (fragment). Aravandinos, No 348, is translated by Miss Garnett, Greek Folk Songs, p. 163.
Translated by Bodmer, I, 82; Döring, p. 85; Arndt, p. 193; Von Marées, p. 45; Knortz, Lieder u. Romanzen Alt-Englands, No 64.
1 There was a youth, and a well belovd youth,
And he was a esquire's son,
He loved the bayliff's daughter dear,
That lived in Islington.
2 She was coy, and she would not believe
That he did love her so,
No, nor at any time she would
Any countenance to him show.
3 But when his friends did understand
His fond and foolish mind,
They sent him up to fair London,
An apprentice for to bind.
4 And when he had been seven long years,
And his love he had not seen,
'Many a tear have I shed for her sake
When she little thought of me.'
5 All the maids of Islington
Went forth to sport and play;
All but the bayliff's daughter dear;
She secretly stole away.
6 She put off her gown of gray,
And put on her puggish attire;
She's up to fair London gone,
Her true-love to require.
7 As she went along the road,
The weather being hot and dry,
There was she aware of her true-love,
At length came riding by.
8 She stept to him, as red as any rose,
And took him by the bridle-ring:
'I pray you, kind sir, give me one penny,
To ease my weary limb.'
9 'I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell me
Where that thou wast born?'
'At Islington, kind sir,' said she,
'Where I have had many a scorn.'
10 'I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell me
Whether thou dost know
The bailiff's daughter of Islington?'
'She's dead, sir, long ago.'
11 'Then will I sell my goodly steed,
My saddle and my bow;
I will into some far countrey,
Where no man doth me know.'
12 'O stay, O stay, thou goodly youth!
She's alive, she is not dead;
Here she standeth by thy side,
And is ready to be thy bride.'
13 'O farewel grief, and welcome joy,
Ten thousand times and more!
For now I have seen my own true-love,
That I thought I should have seen no more.'
a-f.
True Love Requited, or, The Bayliff's Daughter of Islington.
The young man's friends the maid did scorn,
Cause she was poor, and left forlorn;
They sent the esquire to London fair,
To be an apprentice seven year.
And when he out on 's time was come,
He met his love, a going home,
And then, to end all further strife,
He took the maid to be his wife.
To a North Countrey Tune, or, I have a good old mother at home.
e, f have of's, of his, in verse 5.
a.
82. bridal ring, and so all but f.
At the end: Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden Ball in Pye-Corner. Brooksby printed 1672-95: Chappell.
b.
12, a squire's.
Printed for J. Walter, at the Golden Bal[l] in Pye-Corner. J. Walter's time is 1690-1720: Chappell.
c.
12, a wanting.
62. her wanting.
Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden Ball in Py-Corner.
d.
34. a apprentice.
62. her wanting.
92. was.
121. thou well belovd.
Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden Ball in West Smithfield.
e.
31. a apprentice.
62. her wanting.
64. inquire.
82. a penny.
92. was.
111. I sell wanting.
121. thou well belovd.
Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golde[n] Ball, near the Bear Tavern, in Pye Corner.
f.
11. was was youth.
12. a squire's.
21. He was.
23. would she.
51. When all... of fair.
62. her ragged.
63. And she is.
64. After her... enquire.
71. And as.
81. a rose.
82. bridle.
84. For to.
92. Whereat.
102. Whether that.
111. I will.
113. And travel into.
133. I see.
134. should neer see more.
Printed and sold in Aldermary Churchyard, Bow Lane, London. "1700, or a little later."
[106]
THE FAMOUS FLOWER OF SERVING-MEN
a. Wood, E. 25, fol. 75, Bodleian Library. b. Pepys, III, 142, No 140, Magdalen College Library, Cambridge. c. A Collection of Old Ballads, I, 216, 1723.
This ballad was given in Percy's Reliques, III, 87, 1765, "from a written copy, containing some improvements (perhaps modern ones)." These improvements are execrable in style and in matter, so far as there is new matter, but not in so glaring contrast with the groundwork as literary emendations of traditional ballads. Ritson reprinted in A Select Collection of English Songs, II, 244, 1783, some broadside like that which was followed by c.[169]
'Sweet Willie' in Kinloch MSS, V, 407 and VII, 197 (the latter printed in Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 96), and also a fragment with the same title in the Harris MS., fol. 20 f, No 15, are derived from the broadside through recitation. A copy in Buchan's MSS, I, 150, is taken directly from print.
In other cases portions of the broadside appear to have entered into combination with traditional verses belonging to some other story, or possibly to some older form of this.
The Dean of Derry communicated to Percy in 1776 the following stanzas, which he wrote down from the recitation of his mother, Mrs Barnard, wife of the Bishop of Derry.[170]
1 My mother showd me a deadly spight;
She sent three thieves at darksome night;
They put my servants all to flight,
They robd my bower, and they slew my knight.
2 They could not do me much more harm,
But they slew my baby on my arm;
They left me nothing to wrap it in
But the bloody, bloody sheet that it lay in.
3 They left me nothing to make a grave
But the bloody sword that slew my babe;
All alone the grave I made,
And all alone salt tears I shed.
4 All alone the bell I rung,
And all alone sweet psalms I sung;
I leant my head against a block,
And there I cut my lovely locks.
5 I cut my locks, and chang'd my name
From Fair Eleanore to Sweet William.
Scott inserted in his Border Minstrelsy, III, 83, 1803, seven stanzas under the title of 'The Lament of the Border Widow,' which show broader traces of the sheet-ballad (1-3), and also, as Aytoun has remarked, agreements with 'The Three Ravens' and with 'Fair Helen of Kirconnell' (5-7). 'The Lament of the Border Widow,' "obtained from recitation in the Forest of Ettrick," has been thought to relate to the execution of Cokburne, a border-freebooter, by James V. Those who are interested in such random inventions (as, under pardon, they must be called) will find particulars in Scott's introduction, and a repetition of the same in Maidment's Scotish Ballads and Songs, Historical and Traditionary, II, 170.[171]
1 My love he built me a bonny bower,
And clad it a' wi lilye-flour;
A brawer bower ye neer did see
Than my true-love he built for me.
2 There came a man, by middle day,
He spied his sport and went away,
And brought the king that very night,
Who brake my bower, and slew my knight.
3 He slew my knight, to me sae dear;
He slew my knight, and poind his gear;
My servants all for life did flee,
And left me in extremitie.
4 I sewd his sheet, making my mane;
I watched the corpse, myself alane;
I watched his body, night and day;
No living creature came that way.
5 I took his body on my back,
And whiles I gaed, and whiles I sate;
I diggd a grave, and laid him in,
And happd him with the sod sae green.
6 But think na ye my heart was sair,
When I laid the moul on his yellow hair?
O think na ye my heart was wae,
When I turnd about, away to gae?
7 Nae living man I'll love again,
Since that my lovely knight is slain;
Wi ae lock of his yellow hair
I'll chain my heart for evermair.
Again, there are six couplets in Johnson's Museum, p. 90, No 89, called, from the burden, 'Oh ono chrio,' which have a little of The Border Widow, and incidentally of The Flower of Serving-Men, winding up with sentiments of transcendent elegance.
Oh was I not a weary wight,
Maid, wife and widow in one night!
When in my soft and yielding arms,
When most I thought him free from harms,
Even at the dead time of the night,
They broke my bower, and slew my knight.
With ae lock of his jet-black hair
I'll tye my heart for ever mair.
Nae sly-tongued youth, or flattering swain,
Shall eer untye this knott again.
Thine still, dear youth, that heart shall be,
Nor pant for aught save heaven and thee.
"Dr Blacklock informed Burns that this song... was composed on the horrid massacre at Glencoe": Stenhouse's note, IV, 92.
The English broadside, which may reasonably be believed to be formed upon a predecessor in the popular style, has been held to have a common origin with the Scandinavian ballad 'Maid and Stable Boy,' already spoken of under '[Child Waters]' at p. 84f of this volume. The points of resemblance are that a maid cuts her hair, dons man's clothes, and seeks service with a king. In the end she is married to the king's son, or to a nobleman of his court. The differences, in other respects, are considerable.
Percy's ballad is translated by Bodmer, I, 160; by Merk, Ursinus, p. 79, and Bothe, p. 307; by Döring, p. 329.
1 You beautious ladies, great and small,
I write unto you one and all,
Whereby that you may understand
What I have suffered in this land.
2 I was by birth a lady fair,
My father's chief and onely heir,
But when my good old father dy'd,
Then was I made a young knight's bride.
3 And then my love built me a bower,
Bedeckt with many a fragrant flower;
A braver bower you never did see
Then my true-love did build for me.
4 But there came thieves late in the night,
They rob'd my bower, and slew my knight,
And after that my knight was slain,
I could no longer there remain.
5 My servants all from me did flye,
In the midst of my extremity,
And left me by my self alone,
With a heart more cold then any stone.
6 Yet, though my heart was full of care,
Heaven would not suffer me to despair;
Wherefore in hast I chang'd my name
From Fair Elise to Sweet William.
7 And therewithal I cut my hair,
And drest my self in man's attire,
My doublet, hose, and bever-hat,
And a golden band about my neck.
8 With a silver rapier by my side,
So like a gallant I did ride;
The thing that I delighted on,
Was for to be a serving-man.
9 Thus in my sumptuous man's array,
I bravely rode along the way;
And at the last it chanced so
That I unto the king's court did go.
10 Then to the king I bowed full low,
My love and duty for to show,
And so much favour I did crave
That I a serving-man's place might have.
11 'Stand up, brave youth, the king replyd,
'Thy service shall not be denyd;
But tell me first what thou canst do;
Thou shalt be fitted thereunto.
12 'Wilt thou be usher of my hall,
To wait upon my nobles all?
Or wilt thou be taster of my wine,
To wait on me when I shall dine?
13 'Or wilt thou be my chamberlain,
To make my bed both soft and fine?
Or wilt thou be one of my guard?
And I will give thee thy reward.'
14 Sweet William, with a smiling face,
Said to the king, If't please your grace
To show such favour unto me,
Your chamberlain I fain would be.
15 The king then did the nobles call,
To ask the counsel of them all,
Who gave consent Sweet William he
The king's own chamberlain should be.
16 Now mark what strange things came to pass;
As the king one day a hunting was,
With all his lords and noble train,
Sweet William did at home remain.
17 Sweet William had no company then
With him at home but an old man;
And when he saw the coast was clear,
He took a lute which he had there.
18 Upon the lute Sweet William plaid,
And to the same he sung and said,
With a pleasant and most noble voice,
Which made the old man to rejoyce:
19 'My father was as brave a lord
As ever Europe did afford;
My mother was a lady bright,
My husband was a valiant knight.
20 'And I my self a lady gay,
Bedeckt with gorgeous rich array;
The bravest lady in the land
Had not more pleasures to command.
21 'I had my musick every day,
Harmonious lessons for to play;
I had my virgins fair and free,
Continually to wait on me.
22 'But now, alas! my husband's dead,
And all my friends are from me fled;
My former joys are past and gone,
For now I am a serving-man.'
23 At last the king from hunting came,
And presently upon the same
He called for the good old man,
And thus to speak the king began.
24 'What news, what news, old man?' quod he;
'What news hast thou to tell to me?'
'Brave news,' the old man he did say;
'Sweet William is a lady gay.'
25 'If this be true thou tellest me
I'le make thee a lord of high degree;
But if thy words do prove a lye,
Thou shalt be hanged up presently.'
26 But when the king the truth had found,
His joys did more and more abound;
According as the old man did say,
Sweet William was a lady gay.
27 Therefore the king without delay
Put on her glorious rich array,
And upon her head a crown of gold,
Which was most famous to behold.
28 And then, for fear of further strife,
He took Sweet William for his wife;
The like before was never seen,
A serving-man to be a queen.
a.
Printed for J. Hose, next door but one to the Rose Inn, near Holbourn-bridge. John Hose, over against Staples-Inn, near Gray's Inn Lane, printed, according to Chappell, 1660-1675.
b.
Printed for W. Thackeray and T. Passinger. W. Thackeray's date, Chappell, is 1660-1689; T. Passinger's, 1670-1682.
a, b have for title and preface:
The Famous Flower of Serving-men, or, The Lady turnd Serving-man.
Her lover being slain, her father dead,
Her bower robd, her servants fled,
She drest her self in mans attire,
She trim'd her locks, she cut her hair,
And therupon she changde her name
From Fair Elise to Sweet William.
To a dainty tune, or Flora Farewel, Summer-Time, or Love's Tide.
Before 19: Sweet William's Song.
After 22: The end of Sweet William's Song.
a.
After 8: The Second Part, to the same tune.
b.
84. It was to.
124. I do.
204. pleasure.
c.
24. I was.
84. It was to.
94. I to.
124. I do.
161. thing.
173. the house.
183. a sweet and noble voice.
204. pleasure.
233. this good.
251. tellst to.