Act II, Sc. 8, Dyce, II, 172._The English and Scottish popular ballads, volume 2 (of 5)

[175] Already remarked by Motherwell, Minstrelsy, p. 378.

[176] A queen is arbiter in Gower and Chaucer; so here in versions #E#,

#F#, #G#, #J#.

[177] In #K#, a vulgar copy, the man is absurdly made a blacksmith's

son, though a courtier. Similarly in an old stall copy of which the

last stanza is cited by Buchan, II, 318:

O when she came to her father's yetts,

Where she did reckon kin,

She was the queen of fair Scotland,

And he but a goldsmith's son.

[178] This is a commonplace, as observed already, I, 446. It occurs

also in 'Malfred og Sadelmand,' st. 8, Kristensen, I, 259, No. 99. Ebbe

Galt is translated by Prior, II, 87.

[179] Danske Viser, No 186, Grundtvig's #A#, is translated by Dr Prior,

who notes the resemblance and the contrast to our ballad, III, 144.

111

CROW AND PIE

MS. Rawlinson, C. 813, fol. 27 b, beginning of the

sixteenth century. Halliwell's Nugæ Poeticæ, p. 42.

This is not a purely popular ballad, but rather of that kind which,

for convenience, may be called the minstrel-ballad. It has, however,

popular features, and markedly in stanzas 13, 14; for which see pp.

444, 446 of the first volume, and the ballad preceding this, #A# 5, 6,

#B# 3, 4, etc.; also Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II,

144, 'The Baron o Leys.'

Throughe a forest as I can ryde,

To take my sporte yn an mornyng,

I cast my eye on euery syde,

I was ware of a bryde syngynge.

I sawe a faire mayde come rydyng;

I speke to hur of loue, I trowe;

She answered me all yn scornyng,

And sayd, The crowe shall byte yow.

'I pr_a_y yow, damesell, scorne me nott;

To wyn yo_ur_ loue ytt ys my wyll;

For yo_ur_ loue I haue dere bought,

And I wyll take good hede thertyll.'

'Nay, for God, s_er_, that I nyll;

I tell the, Jenken, as I trowe,

Thow shalt nott fynde me suche a gyll;

Therfore the crowe shall byte yow.'

He toke then owt a good golde ryng,

A p_ur_se of velweytt, that was soo fyne:

'Haue ye thys, my dere swetyng,

W_i_th that ye wylbe lemman myn.'

'Be Cryst, I dare nott, for my dame,

To dele w_i_th hym þ_a_t I doo nott knowe;

For soo I myght dyspyse my name;

Therfore the crow shall byte yow.'

He toke hur abowte the mydell small,

That was soo faire of hyde and hewe;

He kyssed hur cheke as whyte as whall,

And p_ra_yed hur þ_a_t she wolde vpon hym rewe.

She scornyd hym, and callyd hym Hew;

His loue was as a paynted blowe:

'To-day me, to-morowe a newe;

Therfore the crow shall byte yow.'

He toke hur abowte the mydell small,

And layd hur downe vpon the grene;

Twys or thrys he s_er_ved hur soo w_i_thall,

He wolde nott stynt yet, as I wene.

'But sythe ye haue i-lyen me bye,

Ye wyll wedde me now, as I trowe:'

'I wyll be aduysed, Gyll,' sayd he,

'For now the pye hathe peckyd yow.'

'But sythe ye haue i-leyn me by,

And brought my body vnto shame,

Some of yo_ur_ good ye wyll part w_i_th me,

Or ell_es_, be Cryst, ye be to blame.'

'I wylbe aduysed,' he sayde;

'Þe wynde ys wast Þat thow doyst blowe;

I haue a-nod_er_ þ_a_t most be payde;

Therfore the pye hathe pecked yow.'

'Now sythe ye haue i-leyn me bye,

A lyttle thyng ye wyll tell;

In case that I with chylde be,

What ys yo_ur_ name? Wher doo ye dwell?'

'At Yorke, at London, at Clerkenwell,

At Leycest_er_, Cambryge, at myrye Brystowe;

Some call me Rychard, Robart, Jacke, and Wyll;

For now the pye hathe peckyd yow.

'But, all medons, be ware be rewe,

And lett no man downe yow throwe;

For and yow doo, ye wyll ytt rewe,

For then Þe pye wyll pecke yow.'

'Farewell, corteor, ou_er_ the medoo,

Pluke vp yo_ur_ helys, I yow beshrew!

Yo_ur_ trace, wher so eu_er_ ye ryde or goo,

Crystes curse goo wythe yow!

'Thoughe a knave hathe by me layne,

Yet am I nod_er_ dede nor slowe;

I trust to recou_er_ my harte agayne,

And Cryst_es_ curse goo wythe yow!'

* * * * *

1^4. bryde: _qy_, bryd?

8^2. blewe.

16^2. be shrew yow.

17^2. nor sleyne.

And _for_ &. _Final double_ 1, _though crossed, has been

printed without adding_ e.

112

THE BAFFLED KNIGHT

#A. a.# Ravenscroft's Deuteromelia, or, The Second Part

of Musicks Melodie, or Melodious Musicke, London, 1609.

'The Over Courteous Knight,' Ritson's Ancient Songs,

1790, p. 159. #b.# Pills to Purge Melancholy, III, 37,

1719.

#B.# Pills to Purge Melancholy, V, 112, 1719.

#C. a.# 'The Baffled Knight, or, The Lady's Policy.' A

Collection of Old Ballads, III, 178, 1725. #b.# 'The

Lady's Policy, or, The Baffled Knight,' Three Parts (the

first fifty stanzas), Pepys Ballads, V, Nos 162-164. #c.#

Douce Ballads, III, fol. 52b. #d.# 'The Baffled Knight,

or, The Lady's Policy,' Roxburghe Ballads, III, 674.

#D. a.# 'The Shepherd's Son,' Herd's Ancient and Modern

Scots Songs, p. 328, 1769. #b.# 'Blow the Winds, Heigh

ho!' Dixon, Ancient Poems, Ballads and Songs of the

Peasantry of England, p. 123, Percy Society, vol. xvii;

Bell, p. 80.

#E.# 'The Knight and Lady,' Motherwell's MS., p. 410.

#A b# is in the first volume of the editions of 1698, 1707: Chappell,

Popular Music, p. 62. #B# is in the third volume of the edition of

1707, and is also printed in A Complete Collection of Old and New

English and Scotch Songs, 8vo, 1735, which I have not seen: Chappell,

p. 520.

The original story, represented by #A#, #B#, and #C# 1-17, appears to

have been revived at the end of the seventeenth century, and to have

been so much relished as to encourage the addition of a Second, Third,

and Fourth Part, all of which were afterwards combined, as in #C a#,

#c#, #d#.[180]

Percy inserted a version of #C#, abridged to forty-five stanzas, in

his Reliques, 1765, III, 238, 1767, II, 339, which was "given, with

some corrections,[181] from a MS. copy, and collated with two printed

ones in Roman character in the Pepys collection." Although "MS. copy"

in Percy's case may mean nothing, while "some corrections" may signify

much, it has been thought best to reprint Percy's ballad in an Appendix.

#D# is repeated in Johnson's Museum, p. 490, No 477, with a slight

change in the first line. It probably belongs to the first half of the

eighteenth century.

#E# is, in all probability, a broadside copy modified by tradition.

In #E#, as in two stanzas appended to #B# (see notes), and in a

rifacimento immediately to be mentioned, the all but too politic maid

would certainly seem to be encouraging the knight at first.[182]

'The Politick Maid,' Roxburghe Ballads, I, 306 f, Ballad Society

reprint, II, 281, is an edition, after Percy's fashion, of some old

form of the ballad, by Richard Climsell (Chappell). It was printed for

Thomas Lambert, whose date, according to Mr. Chappell, is 1636-41,

and is, therefore, considerably earlier than any known copy of the

First Part of #C#. For the sake of such portions of the original as it

preserves, it is given in an Appendix.

There is a Scottish ballad in which the tables are turned upon the

maid in the conclusion. This, as being of comparatively recent, and

not of popular, but of low literary origin, cannot be admitted here.

It can be found in Kinloch's Ballad Book, 'Jock Sheep,' p. 16, and the

Kinloch MSS, I, 229, communicated by James Beattie as taken down from

the recitation of Miss E. Beattie, Mearnsshire. Other versions are,

in the Campbell MSS, 'Dernie Hughie,' II, 233; 'Jock Sheep, or, The

Maiden Outwitted,' Buchan MSS, 1, 155. Another ballad, brief and silly,

in which a maid ties a gentleman's hands with her apron strings, 'The

Abashed Knight,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 131, is

rejected on similar grounds.

The important points in #A#, #B#, and the first part of #C# are that

a knight, coming upon a damsel at a distance from her home, desires

to have his will of her. She asks him to take her to her father's

hall, where he shall be gratified. Reaching the house, she slips in

and leaves the knight without. She jeers at him for not using his

opportunity.

A similar story occurs in many European ballads.

#Spanish. A.# 'De Francia partió la niña,' "Cancionero de Romances,

s. a., fol. 259, Can. de Rom. 1550, fol. 274, Silva de 1550, I, fol.

184;" 'La Infantina,' Duran, I, 152, No 284, Wolf y Hofmann, Primavera,

II, 82, No 154. A damsel on the way to Paris has lost the road, and is

waiting under a tree for an escort. A knight rides by, and she asks

him to take her along. He puts her on the crupper, and, when midway,

asks for _amores_. The damsel tells him that she is a leper (hija de

un malato y de una malatía), which frightens the knight to silence. As

they are entering Paris the damsel laughs, and the knight asks why;

she laughs at the knight's want of spirit. He proposes to go back

for something which he has forgotten. She will not turn back; she is

daughter to the king of France, and any man who should touch her would

pay dearly for it. #B.# Another copy, from a broadside of the sixteenth

century, Duran, I, 152, No 285, Primavera, II, 83, No 154 a, blends the

story with that of a princess who has been made to pass seven years

in a wood by a fairy's spell, 'A cazar va el caballero,' 'La Infanta

encantada,' Duran, I, 159, No 295, Primavera, II, 74, No 151. #C.#

'El Caballero burlado,' from Asturian tradition, Amador de los Rios,

Historia de la Litteratura española, VII, 442.

#Portuguese. A.# 'A Infeitiçada,' Almeida-Garrett, II, 31. #B#, #C#,

#D#. Romances da filha do rei de França, 'O caçador e á donzilla,'

'Donzella encantada,' Braga, Cantos p. do Archipelago açoriano, Nos

1, 2, 3, pp. 183-191. #E#, #F#. Romances da Infanta de França, 'A

Encantada,' Braga, Romanceiro Geral, Nos 10, 11, pp. 26-29. #G.#

'Infantina' (defective), Coelho, Zeitschrift für romanische Philologie,

III, 62.[183] In all the Portuguese versions the proper story is mixed

with that of the Hunter and the Enchanted Princess ('O Caçador,'

Almeida-Garrett, II, 17), and in all but #F# the lady is discovered to

be the sister of the knight, a frequent catastrophe in ballads,[184]

certainly a false one in the present instance. In #A# the damsel

represents herself as having been bewitched before baptism, and any man

who should come near her would become _malato_.[185] In #B#, #C#, #D#

she says she is daughter of a _malato_, and any man approaching her

would become _malato_.[186] This feature is wanting in #E#, #F#, #G#.

#French.# #A.# Gasté, Chansons normandes du XV^e siècle, p. 72, No

43, 'Et qui vous passera le bois?' Vaux-de-vire d'Olivier Basselin,

etc., Du Bois, p. 190, No 30, Le Bibliophile Jacob, p. 225; Wolff,

Altfranzösische Volkslieder, p. 81. #B. a.# 'La Filho doou Ladre,'

Arbaud, II, 90. #b.# 'La Fille du Lepreux,' Poésies pop. de la France,

MS., III, fol. 261. #C.# 'En allant au bois,' Bujeaud, I, 244. #D.# 'En

revenant de Saint-François,' Guillon, p. 103. #E.# 'Margueridette,'

Bladé, Poésies pop. de l'Armagnac, etc., p. 76. A damsel who is afraid

to pass a wood is taken through by a knight, #B#. Midway he makes love

to her; she advises him to keep off; she is the daughter of a leper.

When out of the wood she laughs, and, the man asking why, says, because

she has come out a maid. He proposes to return, which she will not

hear of; he should have plucked his bird while he had it in hand. She

declares herself daughter of the king, #D#; of the seigneur, #E#; of

the chief burgher of the city, #A#. The knight of #B# is an officer

in #E#, who takes the maid up on his horse, and in #E# she feigns to

be the hangman's daughter, not a leper's. Inferior copies of the same

type are given by Legrand, Romania, X, 392, No 43, Lovell, Chansons

Canadiennes, p. 30, Gagnon, p. 92 (much corrupted).

In a variation of this story an orange-girl delivers herself from her

predicament by feigning an ague-fit: 'La Marchande d'Oranges,' Rolland,

p. 258, No 127, _d_; Poésies pop. de la France, IV, fol. 166, fol. 213

(a fragment at fol. 286 is the latter half of the same copy); Bujeaud,

I, 249, and 251 (marchande de pommes). Other copies give the story a

different turn.

In another version the man yields to the girl's tears, and is laughed

at in the conclusion: 'Le galant maladroit,' Poésies pop. de la

France, MS., III, fol. 139, fol. 141; 'La fille bien avisée,' fol.

524; IV, fol. 350, 'Il était un chasseur;' VI, 119==Rolland, I, 23,

No 4, c; Gerard de Nerval, La Bohème Galante, p. 96, ed. 1866==Les

Faux Saulniers, Œuvres complètes, 1868, IV, 398; Buchon, p. 76, No

2; Beaurepaire, p. 33 f; Guillon, p. 101; Tarbé, 'L'honnête Garçon,'

II, 137; Rolland, 'L'Occasion manquée,' I, 23, No 4 b; Puymaigre, 'La

Rencontre,' p. 113, 2d ed. I, 154. The "moral" is wanting in very few

of these.

Still other varieties, with omissions, additions, or changes which need

not be particularized, are: 'L'Amant discret,' Puymaigre, p. 112, I,

153; Guillon, pp. 29, 273; 'L'autre jour,' Bladé, P. p. de l'Armagnac,

p. 114; 'Praube Moussu,' Bladé, Poésies pop. de la Gascogne, II,

66, Moncaut, p. 356; Rolland, I, 23, No 4, a; 'Lou Pastre,' Bladé,

II, 114; Bujeaud, I, 254; 'Lou Pastour et la Pastouro,' Daymard,

Collection de vieilles chansons recueillies à Serignac, p. 16, which

last I have not seen.

#Italian.# 'La figlia del re,' Ferraro, Canti p. monferrini, p. 76, No

55. A damsel lost in a wood asks a cavalier to show her the way. He

takes her on his horse. She, for a reason not given, but to be gathered

from the other southern ballads, tells him that she is daughter of a

poor man who has had seven years of sickness. Get down from the horse,

he says, and I will show you the way. At the end of the wood she tells

him she is daughter of a rich merchant, proprietor of many farms. He

solicits her to mount again. No; he has had the quail and let it fly;

yonder is the castle of her father the king.

#Danish.# 'I Rosenslund,' Grundtvig, IV, 357, No 230, four copies: #A#,

previously in Levninger, II, 51, No 9, #C#, "Tragica, No 14," 1657,

Danske Viser, III, 94, No 122. #D# has a false conclusion. In #A#, the

best copy, from MSS of the seventeenth century, a knight who is hawking

and hunting finds a damsel in a wood. She has been there all night, she

says, listening to the birds. He says, Not so, it is a tryst with a

knight; and she owns that this is the case. He proposes that she shall

throw over this lover and accept him. She will not give her faith to

two, and asks him for his honor's sake to convey her to her bower. She

rides, he walks; and when they come to the bower she locks him out,

wishing him ill night and laughing as he rides away.

'Den dyre Kaabe,' Grundtvig, IV, 362, No 231, two copies, from MSS of

the seventeenth century. A maid and a young man meet in a wood or mead.

She invites him to spread both of their cloaks on the ground for a bed.

His new scarlet cloak cost him fifteen mark in Stockholm, and he will

not spoil it by laying it in the dew. If he will wait, she will go home

to her mother's, not far, and bring a bolster. She goes off laughing

and leaves him expecting her all that day and the next, but she does

not come back. Eight weeks after he meets her at the church door and

asks an explanation. He may thank his cloak of scarlet new for his

disappointment; had she been a young man and met a maid, she would not

have spared her cloak though it were cloth of gold. The reference to

Stockholm points to a Swedish origin for this ballad, but it is not,

says Grundtvig, extant in Swedish.

#German.# 'Das Mäntelein,' "Frankfurter Liederbuch 1584, No 150,"

Uhland, p. 245, No 106, Mittler, No 32. A young man and maid go out

into the green three hours before day. After rebuffing him, she

strangely asks him, as if she knew that he would not consent, to spread

his cloak on the grass. His cloak cost him fifty pound, and would be

spoiled. In the evening, as she stands in her tower, the young man

passes and greets her. She answers, The angels above will requite your

cloak for my coming off a maid.

The artifice by which the lady disembarrasses herself in the Third Part

of the broadside ballad, by pulling off the knight's boots half-way,

is a very familiar story, found also in a modern German ballad,

Walter, p. 94, No 64. See Les cent nouvelles Nouvelles, 1432 and

earlier, No 24, ed. Wright, Paris, 1858, I, 128; Hondorff, Promptuarium

Exemplorum, "1572, fol. 310," 1586, 362 b; Kirchhof, Wendunmuth, 1562,

ed. Oesterley, III, 228, and other places, besides these, cited by

Oesterley, IV, 101.

A modern French ballad, attributed to Favart, which may very probably

have had a basis in popular tradition, celebrates the _fille d'honneur_

who escapes from the importunity of her seigneur by distracting

his attention (as the lady does in the second adventure in English

#C#), and leaping on to the horse from which he had dismounted to

make love to her, in some versions taking his valise with her: 'La

villageoise avisée,' from Recueil de romances historiques, tendres

et burlesques, tant anciennes et modernes, par M. D. L**, 1767, I,

299, in Hoffmann und Richter, Schlesische Volkslieder, p. 354; 'La

Bergère rusée,' Puymaigre, pp. 119, 121, or I, 160, 162; Poésies

pop. de la France, MS., III, fol. 37, 284, 294, 522, VI, 472; Wolff,

Altfranzösische Volkslieder, p. 142; Tarbé, 'La Fille d'Honneur,'

II, 147; 'Le Cavalier,' Guillon, p. 175. On this French ballad is

founded 'Junkernlust und Mädchenlist,' Hoffmann u. Richter, p. 156, No

132, 'Der Junker und das Mädchen,' Erk u. Irmer, iv, 66, No 60, 'Die

Verschmitzte,' Zuccalmaglio, p. 195, No 93. Somewhat similar are 'List

der Bedrukte,' Willems, Oude vlaemsche Liederen, p. 215, No 88; 'The

Scotchman Outwitted,' Old Ballads, 1723, I, 211, and Ritson's Select

Collection of English Songs, 1783, II, 286; 'The Courtier and Country

Maid,' Pills to Purge Melancholy, I, 128, ed. 1719.

In a Romaic ballad a maid makes a youngster who solicits her carry her

over a river, then holds him off by promises while they cross field and

meadow, and when they reach a hamlet sets the dogs at him: Ἡ Απατη,

"Xanthopoulos, Trapezountia, in Φιλολογικος Συνεκδημος, 1849, p. 436;"

Kind, Anthologie, 1861, p. 86, Passow, No 481. (Without the dogs, in

Ioannidis, p. 276, No 4.)

There is a French ballad in which a maid who is rowing a man over a

piece of water receives amorous proposals from him, exacts a large sum

of money, lands the gallant, and pushes off: 'La Batelière,' 'La jolie

Batelière,' 'La Batelière rusée,' Puymaigre, p. 145, or I, 186, p. 147;

Fleury, Littérature orale de la Basse-Normandie, p. 308; Poésies pop.

de la France, MS., III, 137; Bujeaud, II, 307; Decombe, p. 323.

* * * * *

Percy's copy is translated by Bodmer, I, 94; by Bothe, 425.

#a.# Ravenscroft's Deuteromelia, or, The Second Part

of Musick's Melodie, or Melodious Musicke, etc., E 4,

London, 1609. Ritson's Ancient Songs, 1790, p. 159. #b.#

Pills to Purge Melancholy, III, 37, 1719.

Yonder comes a courteous knight,

Lustely raking ouer the lay;

He was well ware of a bonny lasse,

As she came wandring ouer the way.

Then she sang downe a downe, hey downe derry (_bis_)

'Ioue you speed, fayre lady,' he said,

'Among the leaues that be so greene;

If I were a king, and wore a crowne,

Full soone, fair lady, shouldst thou be a queen.

'Also Ioue saue you, faire lady,

Among the roses that be so red;

If I haue not my will of you,

Full soone, faire lady, shall I be dead.'

Then he lookt east, then hee lookt west,

Hee lookt north, so did he south;

He could not finde a priuy place,

For all lay in the diuel's mouth.

'If you will carry me, gentle sir,

A mayde vnto my father's hall,

Then you shall haue your will of me,

Vnder purple and vnder paule.'

He set her vp vpon a steed,

And him selfe vpon another,

And all the day he rode her by,

As though they had been sister and brother.

When she came to her father's hall,

It was well walled round about;

She yode in at the wicket-gate,

And shut the foure-eard foole without.

'You had me,' quoth she, 'abroad in the field,

Among the corne, amidst the hay,

Where you might had your will of mee,

For, in good faith, sir, I neuer said nay.

'Ye had me also amid the field,

Among the rushes that were so browne,

Where you might had your will of me,

But you had not the face to lay me downe.'

He pulled out his nut-browne sword,

And wipt the rust off with his sleeue,

And said, Ioue's curse come to his heart

That any woman would beleeue!

When you haue your owne true-loue

A mile or twaine out of the towne,

Spare not for her gay clothing,

But lay her body flat on the ground.

Pills to Purge Melancholy, V, 112, 1719.

There was a knight, and he was young,

A riding along the way, sir,

And there he met a lady fair,

Among the cocks of hay, sir.

Quoth he, Shall you and I, lady,

Among the grass lye down a?

And I will have a special care

Of rumpling of your gown a.

'If you will go along with me

Unto my father's hall, sir,

You shall enjoy my maidenhead,

And my estate and all, sir.'

So he mounted her on a milk-white steed,

Himself upon another,

And then they rid upon the road,

Like sister and like brother.

And when she came to her father's house,

Which was moated round about, sir,

She stepped streight within the gate,

And shut this young knight out, sir.

'Here is a purse of gold,' she said,

'Take it for your pains, sir;

And I will send my father's man

To go home with you again, sir.

'And if you meet a lady fair,

As you go thro the next town, sir,

You must not fear the dew of the grass,

Nor the rumpling of her gown, sir.

'And if you meet a lady gay,

As you go by the hill, sir,

If you will not when you may,

You shall not when you will, sir.'

#a.# A Collection of Old Ballads, III, 178, 1725. #b.#

Pepys Ballads, V, 169ff, Nos 162-164, end of the 17th

century, the first fifty stanzas. #c.# Douce Ballads,

III, fol. 52b, Durham: Printed and sold by I. Lane. #d.#

Roxburghe Ballads, III, 674, 1750 (?).

There was a knight was drunk with wine

A riding along the way, sir,

And there he did meet with a lady fine,

And among the cocks of hay, sir.

One favour he did crave of her,

And askd her to lay her down, sir,

But he had neither cloth nor sheet,

To keep her from the ground, sir.

'There is a great dew upon the grass,

And if you shoud lay me down, sir,

You would spoil my gay clothing,

That has cost me many a pound, sir.'

'I have a cloak of scarlet red,

I'll lay it under you, love,

So you will grant me my request

That I shall ask of you, love.'

'And if you'll go to my father's hall,

That is moated all round about, sir,

There you shall have your will of me,

Within, sir, and without, sir.

'Oh yonder stands my milk-white steed,

And among the cocks of hay, sir;

If the king's pinner should chance to come,

He'll take my steed away, sir.'

'I have a ring upon my finger,

It's made of the finest gold, love,

And it shall serve to fetch your steed

Out of the pinner's fold, love.'

'And if you'll go to my father's house,

Round which there's many a tree, sir,

There you shall have your chamber free,

And your chamberlain I'll be, sir.'

He sate her on a milk-white steed,

Himself upon another,

And then they rid along the way,

Like sister and like brother.

But when she came to her father's house,

Which was moated all round about, sir,

She slipd herself within the gate,

And she lockd the knight without, sir.

'I thank you, kind knight, for seeing me here,

And bringing me home a maiden, sir,

But you shall have two of my father's men

For to set you as far back again, sir.'

He drew his sword out of his scabbard,

And whet it upon his sleeve, sir,

Saying, Cursed be to evry man

That will a maid believe, sir!

She drew her handkerchief out of her pocket,

And threw it upon the ground, sir,

Saying, Thrice cursed be to evry maid

That will believe a man, sir!

We have a tree in our garden,

Some call it of rosemary, sir;

There's crowing-cocks in our town,

That will make a capon of you, sir.

We have a flower in our garden,

Some call it a marygold, sir,

And he that would not when he might,

He shall not when he would, sir.

But if you chance for to meet a maid,

A little below the town, sir,

You must not fear her gay cloathing,

Nor the wrinkling of her gown, sir.

And if you chance for to meet a maid,

A little below the hill, sir,

You need not fear her screeking out,

For she quickly will lye still, sir.

The baffld knight was by the lass

Ingeniously outwitted,

And since that time it came to pass

He was again well fitted.

As he was riding cross a plain,

In boots, spurs, hat and feather,

He met that lady fair again;

They talkd a while together.

He said, Tho you did serve me so,

And cunningly decoy me,

Yet now, before you further go,

I must and will enjoy thee.

'T was near a spacious river's side,

Where rushes green were growing,

And Neptune's silver streams did glide,

Four fathom waters flowing.

The lady blushd like scarlet red,

And trembled at this stranger:

'How shall I guard my maidenhead

From this approaching danger!'

With a lamenting sigh, said she,

To dye I now am ready;

Must this dishonour fall on me?

A most unhappy lady!

He from his saddle did alight,

In gaudy rich attire,

And cried, I am a noble knight,

Who do your charms admire.

He took the lady by the hand,

Who seemingly consented,

And woud no more disputing stand:

She had a plot invented

How she might baffle him again,

With much delight and pleasure,

And eke unspotted still remain,

With her pure virgin treasure.

'Look yonder, good sir knight, I pray:

Methinks I do discover,

Well mounted on a dapple-grey,

My true, entire lover.'

The knight, he standing on the brink

Of the deep floating river,

Thought she, Thou now shalt swim or sink;

Choose which you fancy rather.

Against his back the lady run;

The waters strait he sounded;

He cry'd out, Love, what have you done!

Help! help! or I am drowned.

Said she, Sir knight, farewel, adieu;

You see what comes of fooling;

That is the fittest place for you,

Whose courage wanted cooling.

'Love, help me out, and I'll forgive

This fault which you've committed;'

'No, no,' says she, 'sir, as I live,

I think you're finely fitted.'

She rid home to her father's house,

For speedy expedition,

While the gay knight was soakd like souce,

In a sad wet condition.

When he came mounted to the plain

He was in rich attire,

Yet when he back returnd again

He was all muck and mire.

A solemn vow he there did make,

Just as he came from swiming,

He'd love no lady, for her sake,

Nor any other women.

The baffld knight was foold once more,

You'll find by this pleasant ditty,

For she whose charms he did adore

Was wonderful sharp and witty.

Returning from her father's park,

Just close by a summer bower,

She chanc'd to meet her angry spark,

Who gave her a frowning lower.

The thoughts of what she twice had done

Did cause him to draw his rapier,

And at the lady then he run,

And thus he began to vapour:

'You chousd me at your father's gate,

Then tumbld me into the river;

I seek for satisfaction straight;

Shall I be a fool forever?'

He came with resolution bent

That evening to enjoy her,

And if she did not give consent,

That minute he would destroy her.

'I pray, sir knight, and why so hot

Against a young silly woman?

Such crimes as these might be forgot;

For merry intrigues are common.'

'What! do you count it mirth,' he cry'd,

'To tumble me in and leave me?

What if I drowned there had dy'd?

A dangerous jest, believe me.

'Well, if I pardon you this day

Those injuries out of measure,

It is because without delay

I mean to enjoy the pleasure.'

'Your suit,' she said, 'is not deny'd,

But think of your boots of leather,

And let me pull them off,' she cry'd,

'Before we lye down together.'

He set him down upon the grass,

And violets so sweet and tender;

Now by this means it came to pass

That she did his purpose hinder.

For having pulld his boots half-way,

She cry'd, I am now your betters;

You shall not make of me your prey;

Sit there, like a thief in fetters.

Now finding she had servd him so,

He rose and began to grumble;

Yet he could neither stand nor go,

But did like a cripple tumble.

The boots stuck fast, and would not stir;

His folly she soon did mention,

And laughing said, I pray, kind sir,

How like you my new invention?

My laughing fit you must excuse;

You are but a stingless nettle;

You'd neer a stood for boots or shooes,

Had you been a man of mettle.

Farewel, sir knight, 'tis almost ten;

I fear neither wind nor weather;

I'll send my father's serving-men

To pull off your boots of leather.

She laughd outright, as well she might,

With merry conceits of scorning,

And left him there to sit all night,

Untill the approaching morning.

The fourth part of the baffld knight

The lady hath fairly acted;

She did his love and kindness slight,

Which made him almost distracted.

She left him in her father's park,

Where nothing but deer could hear him;

While he lay rouling in the dark,

There's never a soul came near him.

Until the morning break of day,

And being warm summer weather,

A shepherd chanc'd to come that way,

Who pulld on his boots of leather.

Then mounting on his milk-white steed,

He, shaking his ears, was ready,

And whip and spur he rid with speed

To find out this crafty lady.

'If once this lady I come nigh

She shall be releasd by no man:

Why shoud so brave a knight as I

Be foold by a silly woman!

'Three times she has affronted me,

In crimes which I cannot pardon;

But if I an't revengd,' said he,

'Let me not be worth a farthing.

'I value not her beauty fair,

Tho once I did dote upon her;

This trusty sword shall now repair

My baffled, blasted honour.'

Unto her father's house he came,

Which every side was moated;

The fair sweet youthful charming dame,

His angry brows she noted.

Thought she, I'll have the other bout,

And tumble him in the river;

And let the Devil help him out,

Or there he shall soak for ever.

He will not let me live at rest,

Although I have often foild him;

Therefore once more, I do protest,

With flattering I'll beguile him.

The bridge was drawn, the gates lockd fast,

So that he could no ways enter;

She smil'd to him, and cry'd at last,

Sir knight, if you please to venture,

A plank lies over the moat hard by,

Full seventeen foot in measure;

There's no body now at home but I;

Therefore we'll take our pleasure.

This word she had no sooner spoke,

But straight he was tripping over;

The plank was sawd, and snapping broke;

He provd an unhappy lover.

#a.# Herd's Ancient and Modern Scots, p. 328, 1769. #b.#

Dixon, Ancient Poems, Ballads and Songs of the Peasantry

of England, p. 123, Percy Society, vol. xvii; Bell, p. 80.

There was a shepherd's son

Kept sheep upon a hill;

He laid his pipe and crook aside,

And there he slept his fill.

Sing, Fal deral, etc.

He looked east, he looked west,

Then gave an under-look,

And there he spyed a lady fair,

Swimming in a brook.

He raisd his head frae his green bed,

And then approachd the maid;

'Put on your claiths, my dear,' he says,

'And be ye not afraid.

''Tis fitter for a lady fair

To sew her silken seam

Than to get up in a May morning

And strive against the stream.'

'If you'll not touch my mantle,

And let my claiths alane,

Then I'll give you as much money

As you can carry hame.'

'O I'll not touch your mantle,

And I'll let your claiths alane;

But I'll tak you out of the clear water,

My dear, to be my ain.'

And when she out of the water came,

He took her in his arms:

'Put on your claiths, my dear,' he says,

'And hide those lovely charms.'

He mounted her on a milk-white steed,

Himself upon anither,

And all along the way they rode,

Like sister and like brither.

When she came to her father's yate

She tirled at the pin,

And ready stood the porter there,

To let this fair maid in.

And when the gate was opened,

So nimbly's she whipt in;

'Pough! you're a fool without,' she says,

'And I'm a maid within.

'Then fare ye well, my modest boy,

I thank you for your care;

But had you done what you should do,

I neer had left you there.'

'Oh I'll cast aff my hose and shoon,

And let my feet gae bare,

And gin I meet a bonny lass,

Hang me if her I spare.'

'In that do as you please,' she says,

'But you shall never more

Have the same opportunity;'

With that she shut the door.

There is a gude auld proverb,

I've often heard it told,

He that would not when he might,

He should not when he would.

Motherwell's MS., p. 410: from the singing of Agnes Lyle,

Kilbarchan, September, 1825.

There was a knight, was drunk with wine,

Came riding along the way, sir;

He would have had a lady gay

Amang the quiles of hay, sir.

'What if I should lay thee down,

Amang the quiles of hay, maid?

Sheets nor blankets have I none,

To keep thy cloathing clean, maid.'

'The wind blaws east, the wind blaws west,

The wind blaws owre yon thorn, sir;

Weel may I wash my cloathing clear,

And dry them on the morn, sir.'

'What if I should lay thee down,

Amang the rigs of corn, maid?

Then the king's life-guard will come,

And steal our steeds away, maid.'

'I have ten gold rings on my hand,

They're all gold but the stone, sir;

I'll give them to the king's life-guard,

If he'll let our steeds alone, sir.

'But see you not yon sunny bank,

Over yon lily lea, sir,

Where you and I may crack a while,

And never one may see, sir?'

He was on a milk-white steed,

And she was on another,

And all the live-long winter night

They rode like sister and brother.

When they came to that sunny bank,

He began to lay her down, sir;

'O no, O no, kind sir,' she says,

'Ye'll ruffle all my gown, sir.

'My gown it cost my father dear,

'T was many a mark and pound, sir;

And if that ye do lay me down,

Ye'll ruffle all my gown, sir.

'But see ye na yon fair castel,

Over yon lily lea, sir,

Where you and I may crack a while,

And never one may see, sir?'

He was on a milk-white steed,

And she was on another,

And all the live-long winter night

They rode like sister and brother.

When they came to that fair castel,

She was at her father's yet, sir;

She jumped in at her father's door,

And left this knight without, sir.

She says, I am a maid within,

You're but a knave without, sir;

There were neer a butcher's son

Put me in so much doubt, sir.

'Oh if I had thee out,' he said,

'But two miles from the town, maid,

I would lay thee down,' he said,

'And never mind thy gown, maid.'

'There is a flower in my father's garden,

The name o't marigold, sir,

And he that would not when he might,

He shall not when he wold, sir.

'But when eer ye meet a pretty maid,

And two miles from a town, sir,

Ye may lay her down,' she says,

'And never mind her gown, sir.

'Ye're like unto my father's steed;

He's standing in the lone, sir;

He hings his head above the sheaf,

But daur not venture on, sir.

'When eer ye meet a pretty maid,

And two miles from the town, sir,

Ye may lay her down,' she says,

'And never mind her gown, sir.

'There is a cock in my father's flock,

He wears a double comb, sir,

He claps his wings, but craweth not;

I fear you be like him, sir.

'But when eer you meet a pretty maid,

And two miles from a town, sir,

You may lay her down,' she said,

'And never mind her gown, sir.'

* * * * *

#A. b.#

1^2. the hay.

2^4. should.

6^1. up _wanting_.

7^3. rode in.

#B.#

_In eight-line stanzas._

_After 8 follow these two stanzas, which belong to a

different version of the ballad, and near the beginning,

not at the end._

'There is a dew upon the grass

Will spoil your damask gown a,

Which has cost your father dear

Many shilling and crown a.'

'There is a wind blows from the west

Soon will dry the ground a,

And I will have a special care

Of the rumpling of my gown a.'

#C. a.#

4^2. under thee: _cf._ #b.#

22^2. trembling: cf. #b.#

28^4. thou fancy: _cf._ #b.#

#b.#

1^3. did he.

1^4. amongst.

2^1. One question.

4^2. under you.

6^4. sir _wanting_.

7^3. it will.

8^2. That's moated all round about, sir.

10^2. all _wanting_.

11^2. me a maiden-head, sir.

11^4. For _wanting_.

13^3. to _wanting_.

17^1. for _wanting_.

17^3. screeping.

18. An Answer, _etc., begins here_.

19^1. cross the.

19^3. met with.

22^2. trembled.

24^4. Who doth.

28^3. shall.

28^4. you fancy.

31^3. said.

31^4. you are well.

32^3. the old.

34^4. woman.

35. The Third Part _begins here_.

35^4. Is.

38^4. Or I'll be.

40^2. Again.

40^3. must be.

44^1. sat.

44^2. so _wanting_.

44^4. That _wanting_.

46^1. that she.

46^2. rise.

46^3. For he.

48^1. laughing, sir.

49^1. it's.

50. _End of_ Part III.

#c.#

1^1. got drunk.

1^2. he met.

1^4. And _wanting_: amongst.

2^1. One question.

2^3. nor shoes.

3^4. has _wanting_.

4^{3, 4}. _wanting_.

6^4. sir _wanting_.

8^2. That is moated all round about, sir.

9^1. set.

9^3. And so.

10^1. he came.

10^4. she _wanting_.

11^2. my maiden-head home, sir.

11^4. For _wanting_.

12^2. wet.

12^3. a curse be.

13. _wanting_.

14^2. it a.

14^4. We ll make.

16^1. for _wanting_.

16^3. not mind.

17^1. for _wanting_.

17^3. squeaking.

18. Part II.

19^1. a cross the.

19^3. met with.

20^2. did decoy.

20^4. enjoy you.

21^4. water.

22^2. trembling.

22^3. I guide.

23^2. I vow I.

24^4. Who does.

25^4. While she a.

27^1. sir, good knight.

28^1. than standing.

28^2. a deep flowing.

28^3. shall.

28^4. thou fancest.

29^3. out _wanting_.

30^1. farewel, sir knight.

31^2. the fault that.

31^3. said.

31^4. you are well.

32^3. Whilst the knight.

34^4. woman.

35. Part III.

35^1. baffld _wanting_.

36^2. close _wanting_.

37^3. than be.

38^4. Or I'll be.

39^4. he'd.

40^3. must be.

42^2. These.

43^2. on your.

43^4. down _wanting_.

44^1. sat.

44^2. so _wanting_.

44^4. That _wanting_.

46^1. that she.

46^3. For he.

48^1. laughing, sir.

48^3. never have: boots nor.

49^1. it's almost dark.

49^3. servant man.

51. Part IV.

51^2. has.

51^3. and service.

51^4. him quite.

53^2. summer's.

56^4. worth one.

58^1. he went.

58^2. on every.

59^2. into.

59^4. Or he shall lye.

60^1. not leave me at.

60^4. flattery.

61^2. no way.

61^3. on him and said.

62^4. So that you may use your.

63^4. sawn.

#d.#

1^4. cooks.

3^3. gay _wanting_.

4^4. of thee.

8^4. I will.

9^1. sat

10^4. she _wanting_.

11^4. as far _wanting_.

12^3. curses.

13^3. to _wanting_.

14^2. of _wanting_.

14^4. of thee.

15^2. calls: a _wanting_.

16^1. for wanting.

16^4. wrinking.

17^1. for wanting.

17^3. shrieking.

21^3. slide.

22^2. trembled.

25^3. discoursing.

28^1. knight was.

28^2. Or.

28^4. which you.

29^2. water.

30^4. wanting.

31^3. sir _wanting_.

32^1. father.

37^3. did run.

37^4. he _wanting_.

38^2. in the.

39^4. he'd.

40^2. young foolish.

42^2. These.

45^2. now I'm.

48^3. have stood: nor.

49^4. To help off thy.

50^3. stay all.

52^2. none but.

53^4. off his.

54^3. rode.

56^1. has she.

56^3. ar'n't.

58^2. on every.

58^3. charming youthful.

62^2. feet.

#D. b.#

_Burden:_

_And blow the winds, heigh ho!

Sing blow the winds, heigh ho!

Clear away the morning dew,

And blow the winds, heigho!_

1^2. He kept sheep on yonder hill.

1^3. and his.

2^1. and he.

2^2. He took an other look.

2^3. lady gay.

2^4. Was dipping.

3, 4 _are wanting_.

5^1. She said, sir, don't touch my mantle.

5^2. Come, let.

5^3. I will give you.

6^1. I will not.

6^2. And _wanting_.

6^3. I'll... water clear.

He did not touch her mantle,

He let her clothes alone,

But he took her from the clear water,

And all to be his own.

8^1. He set her.

8^3. And there they rode along the road.

_After_ 8:

And as he rode along the road

They spied some cocks of hay;

'Yonder,' he says, 'is a lovely place

For men and maids to play.'

9^1. And when they came.

9^2. She pulled at a ring.

9^3. ready was the proud porter.

9^4. For to let the lady.

10^1. gates were open.

10^2. This lady jumped in.

10^3. She says, You are a fool without.

11^1. Good morrow to you, modest.

11^8. If you had been what you should have been.

11^4. I would not have.

_For_ 12-14:

'There is a horse in my father's stable,

He stands beyond the thorn;

He shakes his head above the trough,

But dares not prey the corn.

'There is a bird in my father's flock,

A double comb he wears;

He flaps his wings, and crows full loud,

But a capon's crest he bears.

'There is a flower in my father's garden,

They call it marygold;

The fool that will not when he may,

He shall not when he wold.'

Said the shepherd's son, as he doft his shoon,

My feet they shall run bare,

And if ever I meet another maid,

I rede that maid beware.

APPENDIX.

Roxburghe Ballads, I, 306 f; Ballad Society's reprint,

II, 281.

THE POLITICK MAID,

or,

A dainty new ditty,

Both pleasant and witty,

Wherein you may see

The maide's policie.

There was a knight was wine-drunke,

As he rode on the way,

And there he spide a bonny lasse,

Among the cocks of hay.

Sing loud, whistle in the winde,

Blow merry, merry,

Up and down in yonder dale,

With hey tro, nonney, nonney.

This gallant knight unto the lasse

Did present take his way,

But it seemd he had a shame-face,

He did not court and play.

When he came to this bonny lasse,

He found she was not coy;

His courtesie she did imbrace,

And did not say him nay.

If we should sit us downe here,

Upon the grasse so greene,

Here's neither sheet nor covering,

To keep our cloathing cleane.

'And if we should sit downe,' quoth he,

'Among the cockes of hay,

Then would come forth the king's pinder,

And take our steedes away.'

'I have rings on my fingers,

Made of the purest gold,

That will release our steedes againe

Out of the king's pinfold.

'Sir knight, if you will goe with me

Into my father's bowers,

There you may sit and talke with me

This three or foure houres.'

When she came to her father's bowers,

They were moted round about;

Then she slipt in at a wicket,

And left sir knight without.

'Now I am here, a maide, within,

And you, sir knight, without;

You may lay straw under your feete,

To keepe you from the gout.

'Henceforth when you doe meet a maide,

A mile out of the towne,

Sir knight, you must not be affraid

Of soyling of her gowne.

'And if you chance to meet a maid

Amongst the cockes of hay,

Sir knight, you must not be affraid

With her to court, and say

Sing loud, etc.

'It is a proverb, many say,

And truth it is in tryall,

He that will not when as he may

Shall after have denyall.

'And thus, sir knight, now fare you well,

To you I bid adieu;

And you hereafterwards may tell

How I have servëd you.'

R. C.

Printed at London for Thomas Lambert, at the signe of the

Hors-shoo in Smithfield.

Percy's Reliques, III, 238, 1765.

There was a knight was drunk with wine

A riding along the way, sir,

And there he met with a lady fine,

Among the cocks of hay, sir.

'Shall you and I, O lady faire,

Among the grass lye downe-a?

And I will have a special care

Of rumpling of your gowne-a.'

'Upon the grass there is a dewe,

Will spoil my damaske gowne, sir;

My gown and kirtle they are newe,

And cost me many a crowne, sir.'

'I have a cloak of scarlet red,

Upon the ground I'll throwe it;

Then, lady faire, come lay thy head;

We'll play, and none shall knowe it.'

'O yonder stands my steed so free,

Among the cocks of hay, sir,

And if the pinner should chance to see,

He'll take my steed away, sir.'

'Upon my finger I have a ring,

It's made of finest gold-a,

And, lady, it thy steed shall bring

Out of the pinner's fold-a.'

'O go with me to my father's hall;

Fair chambers there are three, sir;

And you shall have the best of all,

And I'll your chamberlain bee, sir.'

He mounted himself on his steed so tall,

And her on her dapple-grey, sir,

And then they rode to her father's hall,

Fast pricking along the way, sir.

To her father's hall they arrived strait;

'T was moated round about-a;

She slipped herself within the gate,

And lockt the knight without-a.

'Here is a silver penny to spend,

And take it for your pain, sir;

And two of my father's men I'll send,

To wait on you back again, sir.'

He from his scabbard drew his brand,

And whet it upon his sleeve-a,

And 'Cursed,' he said, 'be every man

That will a maid believe-a!'

She drew a bodkin from her haire,

And whipd it upon her gown-a:

'And curst be every maiden faire

That will with men lye down-a!

'A tree there is, that lowly grows,

And some do call it rue, sir;

The smallest dunghill cock that crows

Would make a capon of you, sir.

'A flower there is, that shineth bright,

Some call it marygold-a;

He that wold not when he might,

He shall not when he wold-a.'

The knight was riding another day,

With cloak and hat and feather;

He met again with that lady gay,

Who was angling in the river.

'Now, lady faire, I've met with you,

You shall no more escape me;

Remember how not long agoe

You falsely did intrap me.'

The lady blushed scarlet red,

And trembled at the stranger:

'How shall I guard my maidenhead

From this approaching danger!'

He from his saddle down did light,

In all his riche attyer,

And cryed, As I am a noble knight,

I do thy charms admyer.

He took the lady by the hand,

Who seemingly consented,

And would no more disputing stand;

She had a plot invented.

'Looke yonder, good sir knight, I praye,

Methinks I now discover,

A riding upon his dapple-grey,

My former constant lover.'

On tip-toe peering stood the knight,

Fast by the river brink-a;

The lady pusht with all her might:

'Sir knight, now swim or sink-a!'

Oer head and ears he plunged in;

The bottom faire he sounded;

Then rising up he cried amain,

Help, helpe, or else I'm drowned!

'Now fare you well, sir knight, adieu!

You see what comes of fooling;

That is the fittest place for you;

Your courage wanted cooling.'

Ere many days, in her father's park,

Just at the close of eve-a,

Again she met with her angry sparke,

Which made this lady grieve-a.

'False lady, here thou'rt in my powre,

And no one now can hear thee;

And thou shalt sorely rue the hour

That eer thou dar'dst to jeer me.'

'I pray, sir knight, be not so warm

With a young silly maid-a;

I vow and swear I thought no harm;

'Twas a gentle jest I playd-a.'

'A gentle jest in soothe,' he cry'd,

'To tumble me in and leave me!

What if I had in the river dy'd?

That fetch will not deceive me.

'Once more I'll pardon thee this day,

Tho injurd out of measure;

But then prepare without delay

To yield thee to my pleasure.'

'Well then, if I must grant your suit,

Yet think of your boots and spurs, sir;

Let me pull off both spur and boot,

Or else you cannot stir, sir.'

He set him down upon the grass,

And begd her kind assistance;

'Now,' smiling thought this lovely lass,

'I'll make you keep your distance.'

Then pulling off his boots half-way,

'Sir knight, now I'm your betters;

You shall not make of me your prey;

Sit there like a knave in fetters.'

The knight when she had served soe,

He fretted, fum'd and grumbled;

For he could neither stand nor goe,

But like a cripple tumbled.

'Farewell, sir knight, the clock strikes ten,

Yet do not move nor stir, sir;

I'll send you my father's serving-men,

To pull off your boots and spurs, sir.

'This merry jest you must excuse;

You are but a stingless nettle;

You 'd never have stood for boots or shoes

Had you been a man of mettle.'

All night in grievous rage he lay,

Rolling upon the plain-a;

Next morning a shepherd past that way,

Who set him right again-a.

Then mounting upon his steed so tall,

By hill and dale he swore-a,

'I'll ride at once to her father's hall;

She shall escape no more-a.

'I'll take her father by the beard,

I'll challenge all her kindred;

Each dastard soul shall stand affeard;

My wrath shall no more be hindred.'

He rode unto her father's house,

Which every side was moated;

The lady heard his furious vows,

And all his vengeance noted.

Thought shee, sir knight, to quench your rage

Once more I will endeavor;

This water shall your fury swage,

Or else it shall burn forever.

Then, faining penitence and feare,

She did invite a parley:

'Sir knight, if you'll forgive me heare,

Henceforth I'll love you dearly.

'My father he is now from home,

And I am all alone, sir;

Therefore across the water come,

And I am all your own, sir.'

'False maid, thou canst no more deceive;

I scorn the treacherous bait-a;

If thou wouldst have me thee believe,

Now open me the gate-a.'

'The bridge is drawn, the gate is barrd,

My father has the keys, sir;

But I have for my love prepar'd

A shorter way and easier.

'Over the moate I've laid a plank,

Full seventeen feet in measure;

Then step across to the other bank,

And there we'll take our pleasure.'

These words she had no sooner spoke,

But strait he came tripping over;

The plank was sawd, it snapping broke,

And sousd the unhappy lover.

[180] Pepys, V, 169, No 162. An Excellent New Song, calld The Lady's

Policy, or, The Baffled Knight. London, printed and sold by T. Moore,

1693. T. Moore printed 1689-93: Chappell.

Pepys, V, 170, No 163. An Answer to The Baffld Knight, or, The

beautiful Lady's Second piece of policy, by which she preserved her

Virginity and left the brisk Knight in Pickle. Printed for C. Bate,

next the Crown Tavern in West Smithfield. C. Bates printed 1690-1702:

Chappell.

Pepys, V, 171, No 164. The Third Part of the Baffld Knight, or, The

Witty Lady's new Intreague, by which she left him fetterd in his

Boots. Where he lay all Night in her Father's Park, Cursing his woful

Misfortune. Printed for I. Deacon, at the Angel in Guilt Spur Street,

without Newgate. Jonah Deacon printed 1684-95: Chappell.

I do not know that the Fourth Part was ever separately printed.

The Pepys copy is not at my disposal except for collation.

[181] "Bishop Percy found the subject worthy of his best improvements,"

says Ritson, for once with French neatness: Ancient Songs, p. 159.

[182] See, further on, the second Danish and the German ballad.

[183] #A#, #E#, #F# in Hardung's Romanceiro, I, 49-55, #B#, #C#, #D#,

the same, pp. 59-67.

[184] As in 'Don Bueso,' Duran, I, lxv, A. de los Rios, in Jahrbuch für

romanische u. englische Literatur, III, 282, two copies.

[185] "Curse women, and still more him that trusts them," says the

knight at the end of Portuguese #A#, and so in English #A#.

[186] It has been contended that _malato_ signifies a peasant of low

condition: see Braga, C. p. do Arch. açor., p. 399; but, on the other

hand, Amador de los Rios, as above, VII, 433. Sense requires, if not

the specific meaning _leprous_, at least something contagious, and

sufficiently serious to make the knight tremble in his saddle, as he

does in Portuguese #A#. Hardung aptly cites from Spanish #B#: "Fija soy

de un malato _que tiene la malatia_." Compare the French ballads.

113

THE GREAT SILKIE OF SULE SKERRY

Proceedings of The Society of Antiquaries of Scotland,

I, 86, 1852. Communicated by the late Captain F. W. L.

Thomas, R. N.; written down by him from the dictation of

a venerable lady of Snarra Voe, Shetland.

This Shetland ballad[187] was reprinted in Colburn's New Monthly

Magazine, April, 1864, with spelling Scotticized, and two or three

other uncalled-for changes.

"Finns," as they are for the most part called, denizens of a region

below the depths of the ocean, are able to ascend to the land above by

donning a seal-skin, which then they are wont to lay off, and, having

divested themselves of it, they "act just like men and women." If this

integument be taken away from them, they cannot pass through the sea

again and return to their proper abode, and they become subject to the

power of man, like the swan-maidens and mer-wives of Scandinavian and

German tradition: Grimm's Mythologie, I, 354f. Female Finns, under

these circumstances, have been fain to accept of human partners.

The Great Selchie, or Big Seal, of Shul Skerry, had had commerce

with a woman during an excursion to the upper world. See Hibbert's

Description of the Shetland Islands, pp. 566-571, and Karl Blind in

the Contemporary Review, XL, 404, 1881. A correspondent of Blind gives

stanza 3 with a slight variation, thus:

I am a man, upo da land,

I am a selkie i da sea;

An whin I'm far fa every strand

My dwelling is in Shöol Skerry.

* * * * *

An eartly nourris sits and sings,

And aye she sings, Ba, lily wean!

Little ken I my bairnis father,

Far less the land that he staps in.

Then ane arose at her bed-fit,

An a grumly guest I'm sure was he:

'Here am I, thy bairnis father,

Although that I be not comelie.

'I am a man, upo the lan,

An I am a silkie in the sea;

And when I'm far and far frae lan,

My dwelling is in Sule Skerrie.'

'It was na weel,' quo the maiden fair,

'It was na weel, indeed,' quo she,

'That the Great Silkie of Sule Skerrie

Suld hae come and aught a bairn to me.'

Now he has taen a purse of goud,

And he has pat it upo her knee,

Sayin, Gie to me my little young son,

An tak thee up thy nourris-fee.

An it sall come to pass on a simmer's day,

When the sin shines het on evera stane,

That I will tak my little young son,

An teach him for to swim the faem.

An thu sail marry a proud gunner,

An a proud gunner I'm sure he'll be,

An the very first schot that ere he schoots,

He'll schoot baith my young son and me.

* * * * *

6^2. Quhen.

[187] The ballad was pointed out to me by Mr Macmath, and would have

followed No 40 had I known of it earlier.

ADDITIONS AND CORRECTIONS

VOL. I.

1. Riddles Wisely Expounded.

I, 2 b. Russian riddle-songs: Trudy, III, 314, No 44; V, 1073, No 208,

1190, No 6.

The Russian riddle-ballad of the merchant's son. Add: Shein, Russkiya

Narodnuiya Pyesni, Plyasovuiya, Dance Songs, Nos 88, 87, 89, p. 233 f.

2. The Elfin Knight.

P. 8 a, second paragraph. Russian ballad of Impossibilities propounded

reciprocally by youth and maid (including a shirt): Shein, Russkiya N.

P., Plyasovuiya, Nos 85, 86, p. 231 f.

13. Another Clever Wench, in Hurwitz's Hebrew Tales, New York, 1847,

p. 154, Nos 61, 62; or Sagen der Hebräer aus dem Englischen, u. s. w.,

Leipzig, 1828, p. 129, Nos 56, 57.

14 a, line 16. The Rusalka ballad, also in Trudy, III, 190, No 7.

14 a, the first paragraph. In the third or "Forest" book of the

Mahā-bhārata, chapters 311-313, is a story that bears marks of

being an ancient part of the compilation. Yudhishthira and his four

younger brothers are distressed with thirst. The eldest sends these one

after another in quest of water. Each reaches a lake and hears a voice

of a sprite in the air, "I have the first claim on this lake. Do not

drink till you have answered my questions," drinks notwithstanding,

and falls as if dead. At last Yudhishthira goes himself, answers the

questions, and is offered boons by the sprite. He is very modest,

and asks the life of one of his two half-brothers only, not that of

either of his full brothers. Whereupon the sprite rewards his virtue by

bringing all four to life.

The riddles and questions are spun out at great length, and many are

palpable interpolations. A few examples may be given. What is weightier

(more reverend) than the earth? One's mother. What is loftier than the

heavens? One's father. What is fleeter than the wind? The mind. What

are more numerous than the blades of grass? Thoughts. What does not

close its eyes while asleep? A fish. What is that which does not move

after birth? An egg. What is that which is without heart? A stone. And

so on. A paraphrase of parts of these chapters is given by Ed. Arnold,

Indian Idylls, Boston, 1883, pp. 212-235.

Similarly, in the Kathā-sarit-sāgara, chapter v, a man escapes

death by resolving an ogre's riddle. See Tawney's translation, I,

26, and especially the note, where Benfey is cited as comparing

Mahā-bhārata, XIII, 5883 ff.

14 b. Legend of St Andrew: Horstmann, Altenglische Legenden, Neue

Folge, 1881, p. 8.

18. A variety of #F#, #G#, Bruce and Stokoe, Northumbrian Minstrelsy,

p. 79. 'Whittingham Fair,' popular in the north and west of the county

of Northumberland; usually sung as a nursery-ballad.

'Are you going to Whittingham fair?

Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme

Remember me to one who lives there;

For once she was a true-love of mine.

'Tell her to make me a cambric shirt,

Without any seam or needlework.

'Tell her to wash it in yonder well,

Where never spring-water nor rain ever fell.

'Tell her to dry it on yonder thorn,

Which never bore blossom since Adam was born.'

'Now he has asked me questions three,

Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme

I hope he will answer as many for me;

For once he was a true-love of mine.

'Tell him to find me an acre of land

Betwixt the salt water and the sea-sand.

'Tell him to plough it with a ram's horn,

And sow it all over with one pepper-corn.

'Tell him to reap it with a sickle of leather,

And bind it up with a peacock's feather.

'When he has done, and finished his work,

O tell him to come, and he 'll have his shirt.'

Another variety of #F#, #G#, communicated by Mr Frank Kidson, Leeds,

1884; from tradition.

'Oh where are you going?' 'To Scarbro fair.'

Savoury, sage, rosemary and thyme

'Remember me to a lass who lives there;

For once she was a true lover of mine.

'And tell her to make me a cambric shirt,

Without a needle or thread or ought else;

And then she shall be a true lover of mine.

'And tell her to wash it in yonder well,

Where water neer sprung nor a drop of rain fell;

And then, etc.

'And tell her to hang it on yonder stone,

Where moss never grew since Adam was born.

'And when she has finished and done, her I'll repay,

She can come unto me and married we'll be.'

'Oh where are you going?' 'To Scarbro fair.'

'Remember me to a lad who lives there;

For once he was a true lover of mine.

'And tell him to buy me an acre of land

Between the wide ocean and the sea-sand;

And then he, etc.

'And tell him to plough it with a ram's horn,

And sow it all over with one pepper-corn.

'And tell him to reap't with a sickle of leather,

And bind it up with a peacock's feather.

'And when he has finished, and done his work,

He can come unto me for his cambric shirt.'

Variations in a fragment of the same, remembered by another person: F.

Kidson.

1^1

Oh are you going to...

Tell her ...

Sow it all over with sand.

Reap it with ...

And tie it ...

And then she shall be ...

3(after 9):

And tell her to wash it in yonder dry well,

Where no water sprung nor a drop of rain fell,

And tell her to wash it in yonder dry well,

Or never be a true lover of mine.

3. The Fause Knight upon the Road.

P. 21, note, and p. 485. "Die Windsbraut soil man brav schelten, sich

selber aber bekreuzigen, dann weicht sie. Sie ist des Teufels Braut. Wo

eine Windsbraut auffährt, ist eine Hexe aufgesprungen." Birlinger u.

Buck, Volksthümliches aus Schwaben, I, 192, No 304. G. L. K.

21. Finnur is a trold in a corresponding Icelandic story, Árnason,

Íslenzkar Þjóðsögur, I, 58. G. L. K.

See, for Finn and Finns, Karl Blind in The Contemporary Review, XL,

402ff., 1881; also, 'The Great Silkie of Sule Skerry,' No 113, II, 494.

4. Lady Isabel and the Elf-Knight.

P. 24. May Colvin in Ireland. According to a Connemara story given

briefly in Once a Week, II, 53 f, July 2, 1864, one Captain Webb was

wont to ill-use young women, and then strip them and throw them into

the Murthering Hole, not far from Maarn. At last a girl induced him to

turn his back, and then thrust him into the Hole. P. Z. Round.

24 b. The Flemish ballad is given by Fétis, Histoire Générale de la

Musique, V, 59, "d'après un texte ancien qui a deux strophes de plus

que celui de Willems." G. L. K.

28 b. 'Ásu kvaeði' in Íslenzk fornkvæði, II, 226, No 60, #A-M#: this

copy #D# (#E-M#). Published in 1885.

41, and p. 487 f. Russian form, corrupted.

On the oaken bridge stood Galya, there Galya stood and drew water,

she drew water and spoke with Marko. "O Marko mine, what dost thou

say to me? Come wander with me, youth; let us wander on foot through

the dark night." One field traversed, a second they crossed, and in

the third lay down on the grass to sleep. The rain began to sprinkle,

the fierce rain to fall, and Marko began to slumber. "O Marko mine,

sleep not while with me; bare your sword and fight with me." Young

Galya vanquished Marko; she conquered Marko, and rode, she mounted and

rode over the level field. Galya arrives at the new gate; there stands

Marko's mother, more beautiful than gold. "Young Galya, what can I say?

Have you seen Marko near my house?" "Oh, hush, mother; weep not, mourn

not. Thy Marko has married in the field; he has taken to himself a fine

young lady, a grave in the meadow." Trudy, V, 425, No 816.

A man beguiles a girl with tales of a land where the rivers are of

honey, where pears grow on willows, and maidens are clothed in gold.

Trudy, V, 335, No 660.

In one version of this ballad a cuckoo flies up and bids the maid not

listen to the Cossack's tales: "I have flown all over the world, and I

have never seen golden mountains, nor eaten pears from willow-trees,

nor beheld maidens clad in gold."

41 a, and 487 a. A maid going to the ford for water meets Marko,

and suggests that he should propose for her; if her mother will not

consent, they will roam. They cross one field and two, and lie down on

the grass in a third. He is falling asleep, when she wakes him with a

cry that they are pursued. Marko is overtaken and his head cut off.

Trudy, V, 226, No 454. No 548, p. 278, is nearly the same. No 690, p.

352, resembles in part No 454, and partly Golovatsky, I, 116.

42 a and 488 a, #A#. A lover takes his love by her white hands, leads

her to the Danube, seizes her by the white sides, and flings her in.

She asks whether she is ugly, or whether it is her ill fate. Trudy, V,

166, No 339.