‘roses,’ Lady Alice, 5, 6. (See introductory note to Lord Lovel, p. 67.)
The ballads which exhibit this pleasant conception that, after death, the spirits of unfortunate lovers pass into plants, trees, or flowers springing from their graves, are not confined to European folklore. Besides appearing in English, Gaelic, Swedish, Norwegian, Danish, German, French, Roumanian, Romaic, Portuguese, Servian, Wendish, Breton, Italian, Albanian, Russian, etc., we find it occurring in Afghanistan and Persia. As a rule, the branches of the trees intertwine; but in some cases they only bend towards each other, and kiss when the wind blows.
In an Armenian tale a curious addition is made. A young man, separated by her father from his sweetheart because he was of a different religion, perished with her, and the two were buried by their friends in one grave. Roses grew from the grave, and sought to intertwine, but a thorn-bush sprang up between them and prevented it. The thorn here is symbolical of religious belief.
Pin.
‘thrilled upon a pin,’ Glasgerion, 10.2.
‘knocked at the ring,’ Fair Margaret and Sweet William, 11.2.
(Cp. ‘lifted up the pin,’ Fair Janet, 14.2.)
Throughout the Scottish ballads the expression is ‘tirl’d at the pin,’ i.e. rattled or twisted the pin.
The pin appears to have been the external part of the door-latch, attached by day thereto by means of a leathern thong, which at night was disconnected with the latch to prevent any unbidden guest from entering. Thus any one ‘tirling at the pin’ does not attempt to open the door, but signifies his presence to those within.