[G]. a. 'The Golden Key,' Notes and Queries, Sixth Series, VI, 415. b. The same, p. 269.
[H]. 'The Golden Ball.' a. Baring-Gould's Appendix to Henderson's Notes on the Folk Lore of the Northern Counties of England and the Borders, 1866, p. 333. b. Notes and Queries, Sixth Series, X, 354, 1884.
D, E form the conclusion of a ballad which belongs to the series of 'Mary Hamilton,' or 'The Queen's Mary,' and give an entirely wrong turn to that distressful tragedy.
F had become a children's game, the last stage of many old ballads: see the notes. In G and H the verses are set in a popular tale, and a characteristic explanation is furnished of the danger which the heroine has incurred: she has lost a golden key, or a golden ball, which had been entrusted to her. See, again, the notes.
All the English versions are defective and distorted, as comparison will show. In many others, both from northern and southern Europe, a young woman has fallen into the hands of corsairs; father, mother, brother, sister, refuse to pay ransom, but her lover, in one case husband, stickles at no price which may be necessary to retrieve her.
We will begin with the best ballad of the cycle, the Sicilian 'Scibilia Nobili,' communicated to Nuove Effemeridi Siciliane, Nuova Serie, I, 528, 1874, by Salvatore Struppa, as sung by a peasant woman in the neighborhood of Marsala, 151 verses.[154] Tunisian corsairs, learning of the marriage of the king's daughter, fit out a strong force, and when they are near port change caps, to pass for Christians. They knock at Scibilia's door, and, on her refusing to open, her husband being a-hunting, burst the door in, and carry her on board ship. Her husband goes to the shore weeping, and offers her captors her weight in gold; they will not give her up for a shipful. He begs to be allowed a word with her: why has she let herself be carried off, and who will nurse her boy? She refuses to eat, drink, or sleep. The sailors fall asleep, and Scibilia drops into the sea. They take silk ladders to recover her; she weeps always. (It would be superfluous to do more than point to the fact that the story is not well compacted, or altogether rational, as we have it.) The lady, turning to a sailor, says, Can you tell me how the wind is? If north or south, I will go to my father. No opposition is made by the pirates, who had but just now refused a shipful of gold for her. "My dear father, will you ransom me?" "For how much, my dear daughter?" "Three lions, three falcons, and four pillars of gold." "I cannot lose so much money: how much better lose you!" She is urged by her captors to eat and drink, but will not eat, drink, or sleep, for her boy is starving. She again makes for the coast, weeping ever, and the foregoing scene, from the inquiry as to the wind, is repeated with mother, brother, sister. All say it is better to lose her than so much money. She finally tries her husband, who answers, Better lose all this gold; it is enough if you are not lost. And after three days the father died. "And let him die; I will dress all in red." And after three days the mother died. "And let her die; I will dress all in yellow." And after three days the brother died. "And let him die; I will dress all in green." And after three days the sister died. "And let her die; I will dress all in white. And if my dear husband dies, I will dress in black."
Spanish. A. a, 'La Donzella,' Die Balearen in Wort und Bild geschildert, II, 263 (privately printed by the Archduke Ludwig Salvator, Leipzig, 1871, a book which I have not been able to obtain), Liebrecht, Zur Volkskunde, p. 231; b, Briz, Cansons de la Terra, IV, 15, from a Majorcan revista. B. 'Lo Rescat,' Briz, IV, 13. C. 'La Cautiva,' Milá, Romancerillo, p. 257, No 261. In A a maid, who is embroidering a handkerchief by the seashore, lacking silk, hails a vessel, and asks if they have any. She is invited to come aboard and see if they have what she requires. She falls asleep, and the sailors put off. This beginning is like that of another very common ballad. The maid is wakened by the singing of the sailors, and asks them to put into the port where her father is. What follows corresponds to the English ballad. "Father, will you ransom me? The Moors offer me for sale." "Dear daughter, how much do they ask?" "I am yours for a hundred crowns." "Daughter, I will not pay a penny for you." The scene is repeated with mother, brother, and sister, all of whom make the same answer as the father, and then with the lover; but his reply is, I would not give you up for all the world.
The first five stanzas of A are wanting in B, which begins, accordingly, at the point where the maid asks to have the ship put about. The sister is omitted in B, as also in A b. C is shortened still further, beginning with the appeal to the father, and omitting both sister and brother.
Färöe. 'Frísa Vísa,' communicated by Hammershaimb, with other ballads, to the Antiquarisk Tidsskrift, 1849-51, p. 95. Frisian pirates are carrying away a maid. She weeps and beats her hands, and cries, Wait, my father will ransom me; he will ransom me with his castles; he will not let me perish in Friesland. The father answers, I have only two castles; neither of them can I give up for thee; indeed thou mayst perish in Friesland. The Frisians are starting off again. The maid begs them to stop; her mother will redeem her with her kirtles. But the mother says, I have but two kirtles, and neither of them can I give up for thee; indeed thou mayst perish in Friesland. Once more the Frisians are about to put off. The maid says her lover will redeem her with his ships. The lover loyally responds, I have only two ships; both will I gladly part with for thee; thou shalt not perish in Friesland. It appears from a note of Hammershaimb that the ballad might be extended indefinitely by the maid's calling upon brother, sister, and friends to redeem her with their respective valuables.[155]
Icelandic. A ballad briefly mentioned at p. 20 f of the volume of the Antiquarisk Tidsskrift, before cited. The Frisians call out, Bear the Danish maid to the ships! 'Bide, Frisians, bide; my kinsfolk will redeem me.' Upon the sixth appeal, to her lover, the maid is ransomed.