Upon her knees she sank down then,
Nor ever rose she up again.
Within the self-same tomb, at close of day,
The gentle lady and her husband lay.
Behold a marvel! When the morning shone
Two spreading oaks from out that grave had grown,
And 'mid their branches, closely intertwining,
Two happy doves of dazzling whiteness shining.
Sweetly they cooed at breaking of the day,
Then forth together swiftly sped their way.
With gladsome notes they circling upward flew,
Together vanishing in heaven's deep blue.
The foregoing ballad is reproduced under no fewer than fifteen different variations in Sweden and Denmark, where it is entitled, Sire Olaf and the Dance of the Elves. In its Servian form of Prince Marko and the Wila, the latter, instead of taking the life of the hero, exacts both his eyes and the four feet of his horse.
Numerous as are the traditions relating to the dwarfs, the songs of which they are the subject are very rare. The one we are about to give is apparently intended as a satire upon the tailors, that ill-used class which in all warlike nations has been condemned to ridicule. In Basse-Bretagne, no one pronounces their name without raising the hat, and adding, "Saving your presence."
It will be remarked that the name of Duz (diminutive, duzik) is, among others, given to the dwarfs, which, M. de Villemarqué observes, was that borne by the genii of Gaul in the days of St. Augustine, who speaks of them as "Dæmones quos Duscios Galli nuncupant."[137]
It is said that a traveller being upon one occasion drawn into their circling dance, and finding the refrain of "dilun, dimeurs, dimerc'her," etc., somewhat monotonous, ventured to add the words Saturday and Sunday, when the sudden explosion of outcries, threatenings, and rage among the assembly was so great that the rash adventurer was half-dead with fear. We are told that if only he had added, "And so the week is done," the long penitence to which the dwarfs are condemned would have ended.
AR C'HORRED.
(THE DWARFS.)
Paskou le Long, the tailor brave, turned thief on Friday night.
No more culottes had he to make, since all men went to fight—
To fight against the Frankish king, and for their own king's right.
He took a spade; he sallied forth, and to the grotto went,
The grotto of the dwarfs: to find their treasure his intent;
And digging deep for hidden hoards, beneath the dolmen bent.