2_The English and Scottish popular ballads, volume 1 (of 5)

He wood her butt, he wood her ben,

He wood her in the ha,

Until he got this lady's consent

To mount and ride awa.

He went down to her father's bower,

Where all the steeds did stand,

And he 's taken one of the best steeds

That was in her father's land.

He 's got on and she 's got on,

And fast as they could flee,

Until they came to a lonesome part,

A rock by the side of the sea.

'Loup off the steed,' says false Sir John,

'Your bridal bed you see;

For I have drowned seven young ladies,

The eight one you shall be.

'Cast off, cast off, my May Colven,

All and your silken gown,

For it 's oer good and oer costly

To rot in the salt sea foam.

'Cast off, cast off, my May Colven,

All and your embroiderd shoen,

For they 're oer good and oer costly

To rot in the salt sea foam.'

'O turn you about, O false Sir John,

And look to the leaf of the tree,

For it never became a gentleman

A naked woman to see.'

He turnd himself straight round about,

To look to the leaf of the tree;

So swift as May Colven was

To throw him in the sea.

'O help, O help, my May Colven,

O help, or else I'll drown;

I'll take you home to your father's bower,

And set you down safe and sound.'

'No help, no help, O false Sir John,

No help, nor pity thee;

Tho seven king's-daughters you have drownd,

But the eight shall not be me.'

So she went on her father's steed,

As swift as she could flee,

And she came home to her father's bower

Before it was break of day.

Up then and spoke the pretty parrot:

'May Colven, where have you been?

What has become of false Sir John,

That woo'd you so late the streen?

'He woo'd you butt, he woo'd you ben,

He woo'd you in the ha,

Until he got your own consent

For to mount and gang awa.'

'O hold your tongue, my pretty parrot,

Lay not the blame upon me;

Your cup shall be of the flowered gold,

Your cage of the root of the tree.'

Up then spake the king himself,

In the bed-chamber where he lay:

'What ails the pretty parrot,

That prattles so long or day?'

'There came a cat to my cage door,

It almost a worried me,

And I was calling on May Colven

To take the cat from me.'

#a.# Sharpe's Ballad Book (1823), No 17, p. 45. #b.#

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 45. #c.#

Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. 21, No. XXIV, one

stanza.

O heard ye of a bloody knight,

Lived in the south country?

For he has betrayed eight ladies fair

And drowned them in the sea.

Then next he went to May Collin,

She was her father's heir,

The greatest beauty in the land,

I solemnly declare.

'I am a knight of wealth and might,

Of townlands twenty-three;

And you'll be lady of them all,

If you will go with me.'

'Excuse me, then, Sir John,' she says;

'To wed I am too young;

Without I have my parents' leave,

With you I darena gang.'

'Your parents' leave you soon shall have,

In that they will agree;

For I have made a solemn vow

This night you'll go with me.'

From below his arm he pulled a charm,

And stuck it in her sleeve,

And he has made her go with him,

Without her parents' leave.

Of gold and silver she has got

With her twelve hundred pound,

And the swiftest steed her father had

She has taen to ride upon.

So privily they went along,

They made no stop or stay,

Till they came to the fatal place

That they call Bunion Bay.

It being in a lonely place,

And no house there was nigh,

The fatal rocks were long and steep,

And none could hear her cry.

'Light down,' he said, 'fair May Collin,

Light down and speak with me,

For here I've drowned eight ladies fair,

And the ninth one you shall be.'

'Is this your bowers and lofty towers,

So beautiful and gay?

Or is it for my gold,' she said,

'You take my life away?'

'Strip off,' he says, 'thy jewels fine,

So costly and so brave,

For they are too costly and too fine

To throw in the sea wave.'

'Take all I have my life to save,

O good Sir John, I pray;

Let it neer be said you killed a maid

Upon her wedding day.'

'Strip off,' he says, 'thy Holland smock,

That's bordered with the lawn,

For it's too costly and too fine

To rot in the sea sand.'

'O turn about, Sir John,' she said,

'Your back about to me,

For it never was comely for a man

A naked woman to see.'

But as he turned him round about,

She threw him in the sea,

Saying, 'Lie you there, you false Sir John,

Where you thought to lay me.

'O lie you there, you traitor false,

Where you thought to lay me,

For though you stripped me to the skin,

Your clothes you've got with thee.'

Her jewels fine she did put on,

So costly, rich and brave,

And then with speed she mounts his steed,

So well she did behave.

That lady fair being void of fear,

Her steed being swift and free,

And she has reached her father's gate

Before the clock struck three.

Then first she called the stable groom,

He was her waiting man;

Soon as he heard his lady's voice

He stood with cap in hand.

'Where have you been, fair May Collin?

Who owns this dapple grey?'

'It is a found one,' she replied,

'That I got on the way.'

Then out bespoke the wily parrot

Unto fair May Collin:

'What have you done with false Sir John,

That went with you yestreen?'

'O hold your tongue, my pretty parrot,

And talk no more to me,

And where you had a meal a day

O now you shall have three.'

Then up bespoke her father dear,

From his chamber where he lay:

'What aileth thee, my pretty Poll,

That you chat so long or day?'

'The cat she came to my cage-door,

The thief I could not see,

And I called to fair May Collin,

To take the cat from me.'

Then first she told her father dear

The deed that she had done,

And next she told her mother dear

Concerning false Sir John.

'If this be true, fair May Collin,

That you have told to me,

Before I either eat or drink

This false Sir John I'll see.'

Away they went with one consent,

At dawning of the day,

Until they came to Carline Sands,

And there his body lay.

His body tall, by that great fall,

By the waves tossed to and fro,

The diamond ring that he had on

Was broke in pieces two.

And they have taken up his corpse

To yonder pleasant green,

And there they have buried false Sir John,

For fear he should be seen.

J. H. Dixon, Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the

Peasantry of England, p. 74.

An outlandish knight came from the north lands,

And he came a-wooing to me;

He told me he'd take me unto the north lands,

And there he would marry me.

'Come, fetch me some of your father's gold,

And some of your mother's fee,

And two of the best nags out of the stable,

Where they stand thirty and three.'

She fetched him some of her father's gold,

And some of her mother's fee,

And two of the best nags out of the stable,

Where they stood thirty and three.

She mounted her on her milk-white steed,

He on the dapple grey;

They rode till they came unto the sea-side,

Three hours before it was day.

'Light off, light off thy milk-white steed,

And deliver it unto me;

Six pretty maids have I drowned here,

And thou the seventh shalt be.

'Pull off, pull off thy silken gown,

And deliver it unto me;

Methinks it looks too rich and too gay

To rot in the salt sea.

'Pull off, pull off thy silken stays,

And deliver them unto me;

Methinks they are too fine and gay

To rot in the salt sea.

'Pull off, pull off thy Holland smock,

And deliver it unto me;

Methinks it looks too rich and gay

To rot in the salt sea.'

'If I must pull off my Holland smock,

Pray turn thy back unto me;

For it is not fitting that such a ruffian

A naked woman should see.'

He turned his back towards her

And viewed the leaves so green;

She catched him round the middle so small,

And tumbled him into the stream.

He dropped high and he dropped low,

Until he came to the side;

'Catch hold of my hand, my pretty maiden,

And I will make you my bride.'

'Lie there, lie there, you false-hearted man,

Lie there instead of me;

Six pretty maids have you drowned here,

And the seventh has drowned thee.'

She mounted on her milk-white steed,

And led the dapple grey;

She rode till she came to her own father's hall,

Three hours before it was day.

The parrot being in the window so high,

Hearing the lady, did say,

'I'm afraid that some ruffian has led you astray,

That you have tarried so long away.'

'Don't prittle nor prattle, my pretty parrot,

Nor tell no tales of me;

Thy cage shall be made of the glittering gold,

Although it is made of a tree.'

The king being in the chamber so high,

And hearing the parrot, did say,

'What ails you, what ails you, my pretty parrot,

That you prattle so long before day?'

'It's no laughing matter,' the parrot did say,

'That so loudly I call unto thee,

For the cats have got into the window so high,

And I'm afraid they will have me.'

'Well turned, well turned, my pretty parrot,

Well turned, well turned for me;

Thy cage shall be made of the glittering gold,

And the door of the best ivory.'

Roxburghe Ballads, III, 449.

'Go fetch me some of your father's gold,

And some of your mother's fee,

And I'll carry you into the north land,

And there I'll marry thee.'

She fetchd him some of her father's gold,

And some of her mother's fee;

She carried him into the stable,

Where horses stood thirty and three.

She leapd on a milk-white steed,

And he on a dapple-grey;

They rode til they came to a fair river's side,

Three hours before it was day.

'O light, O light, you lady gay,

O light with speed, I say,

For six knight's daughters have I drowned here,

And you the seventh must be.'

'Go fetch the sickle, to crop the nettle

That grows so near the brim,

For fear it should tangle my golden locks,

Or freckle my milk-white skin.'

He fetchd the sickle, to crop the nettle

That grows so near the brim,

And with all the strength that pretty Polly had

She pushd the false knight in.

'Swim on, swim on, thou false knight,

And there bewail thy doom,

For I don't think thy cloathing too good

To lie in a watry tomb.'

She leaped on her milk-white steed,

She led the dapple grey;

She rid till she came to her father's house,

Three hours before it was day.

'Who knocked so loudly at the ring?'

The parrot he did say;

'O where have you been, my pretty Polly,

All this long summer's day?'

'O hold your tongue, parrot,

Tell you no tales of me;

Your cage shall be made of beaten gold,

Which is now made of a tree.'

O then bespoke her father dear,

As he on his bed did lay:

'O what is the matter, my parrot,

That you speak before it is day?'

'The cat's at my cage, master,

And sorely frighted me,

And I calld down my Polly

To take the cat away.'

* * * * *

#A.#

_Burden. Song xix of Forbes's 'Cantus,' Aberdeen, 1682, 3d

ed., has, as pointed out by Motherwell, Minstrelsy, p. lx,

nearly the same burden: ~The gowans are gay, The first

morning of May~. And again, a song in the Tea Table

Miscellany, as remarked by Buchan, ~There gowans are gay,

The first morning of May~: p. 404 of the 12th ed., London,

1763._

#b.#

_No doubt furnished to Motherwell by Buchan, as a

considerable number of ballads in this part of his MS.

seem to have been._

3^2. Then in.

8^1. kind sir, said she.

10^2. That we may some rest before I die.

11^1. the near.

13^2. to them ilk ane.

_1 is given by Motherwell, Minstrelsy, p. lx, but

apparently to improve metre and secure rhyme, thus_:

Lady Isabel sits in her bouir sewing,

She heard an elf-knight his horn blowing.

#B b.#

_Buchan's printed copy differs from the manuscript very

slightly, except in spelling._

4^3, 6^3. Aft times hae I.

5^3. And sighing sair says.

7^3, 9^3. And sighing says.

14^2. Till she swam.

14^3. Then thanked.

14^4. she'd.

#c.#

_Like #A b#, derived by Motherwell from Buchan._

4^1, 6^1, 8^1. wade in, wade in.

14^3. And thanked.

_Dixon, Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads,

p. 63, printing #B# from the manuscript, makes one or two

trivial changes._

#d#

_is only this fragment_.

4^3

Mony a time I rade wi my brown foal

The water o Wearie's Wells.

'Leave aff, leave aff your gey mantle,

It's a' gowd but the hem;

Leave aff, leave [aff], it's far owre gude

To weet i the saut see faem.'

She wade in, an he rade in,

Till it took her to the knee;

Wi sighin said that lady gay

'Sic wadin's no for me.'

* * * * * * *

He rade in, and she wade in,

Till it took her to the chin;

Wi sighin said that ladie gay

'I'll wade nae farer in.'

10^3

'Sax king's dochters I hae drowned,

An the seventh you sall be.'

* * * * * * *

'Lie you there, you fause young man,

Where you thought to lay me.'

#C b.#

_The printed copy follows the manuscript with only very

trifling variations_: Colvin _for_ Colven;

13^1, up then spak;

16^4, ere day;

17^2, almost worried.

#c.#

2^{1, 2}. he's courted.

2^3. Till once he got.

_Between 2 and 3 is inserted:_

She's gane to her father's coffers,

Where all his money lay,

And she's taken the red, and she's left the white,

And so lightly as she tripped away.

3^1 She's gane down to her father's stable,

3^3 And she's taken the best, and she's left the warst.

He rode on, and she rode on,

They rode a long summer's day,

Until they came to a broad river,

An arm of a lonesome sea.

5^{3, 4}

'For it's seven king's daughters I have drowned here,

And the eighth I'll out make with thee.'

6^{1, 2}

'Cast off, cast off your silks so fine,

And lay them on a stone.'

7^{1, 2, 3}

'Cast off, cast off your holland smock,

And lay it on this stone,

For it's too fine.' ...

9^{3, 4}

She's twined her arms about his waist,

And thrown him into

10^{1, 2}

'O hold a grip of me, May Colvin,

For fear that I should'

^3 father's gates

^4 and safely I'll set you down.

'O lie you there, thou false Sir John,

O lie you there,' said she,

'For you lie not in a caulder bed

Than the ane you intended for me.'

12^3. father's gates.

12^4. At the breaking of the day.

13^4. yestreen.

_Between 13 and 14 is inserted:_

Up then spake the pretty parrot,

In the bonnie cage where it lay:

'O what hae ye done with the false Sir John,

That he behind you does stay?'

15^{3, 4}

'Your cage will be made of the beaten gold,

And the spakes of ivorie.'

17^{1, 2}

'It was a cat cam ...

I thought 't would have' ...

#D a.#

2^1. Colin.

#b#.

_Buchan's copy makes many slight changes which are not

noticed here._

1^2. west countrie.

_After 1 is inserted:_

All ladies of a gude account

As ever yet were known;

This traitor was a baron knight,

They calld him fause Sir John.

_After 2:_

'Thou art the darling of my heart,

I say, fair May Colvin,

So far excells thy beauties great

That ever I hae seen.'

3^2. Hae towers, towns twenty three.

7^2. five hunder.

7^3. The best an steed.

8^3. fatal end.

8^4. Binyan's Bay.

12^2. rich and rare.

12^4. sea ware.

_After 12:_

Then aff she's taen her jewels fine,

And thus she made her moan:

'Hae mercy on a virgin young,

I pray you, gude Sir John.'

'Cast aff, cast aff, fair May Colvin,

Your gown and petticoat,

For they're too costly and too fine

To rot by the sea rock.'

13^4. Before her.

14^4. to toss.

18^3. her steed.

23^3. What hast thou made o fause.

28^3. Charlestown sands. _Sharps thinks Carline Sands

means Carlinseugh Sands on the coast of Forfarshire._

_After 30:_

Ye ladies a', wherever you be,

That read this mournful song,

I pray you mind on May Colvin,

And think on fause Sir John.

Aff they've taen his jewels fine,

To keep in memory;

And sae I end my mournful sang

And fatal tragedy.

#c.#

_Motherwell's one stanza is:_

O heard ye eer o a bloody knight

That livd in the west countrie?

For he has stown seven ladies fair,

And drownd them a' in the sea.

#E.#

3^2. of the.

17^2. But so.

[24] 'The Elfin Knight' begins very much like #A#, but perhaps has

borrowed its opening stanzas from this ballad. See page 13.

[25] The second stanza, which describes the harping, occurs again in

'Glenkindie' (st. 6).

[26] Perhaps the change from wood, #A#, to water, #B-F#, was made under

the influence of some Merman ballad, or by admixture with such a ballad;

e.g., 'Nøkkens Svig,' Grundtvig, No 39. In this (#A#) the nix entices a

king's daughter away from a dance, sets her on his horse, and rides with

her over the heath to a wild water, into which she sinks. It is also

quite among possibilities that there was originally an English nix

ballad, in which the king's daughter saved herself by some artifice,

not, of course, such as is employed in #B-F#, but like that in #A#, or

otherwise. Maid Heiemo, in Landstad, No 39, kills a nix with "one of her

small knives." Had she put him to sleep with a charm, and killed him

with _his own_ knife, as Lady Isabel does, there would have been nothing

to shock credibility in the story.

Aytoun, Ballads of Scotland, I, 219, 2d ed., hastily pronounces Buchan's

ballad not authentic, "being made up of stanzas borrowed from versions

of 'Burd Helen' ['Child Waters']." There are, indeed, three successive

steps into the water in both ballads, but Aytoun should have bethought

himself how natural and how common it is for a passage to slip from one

ballad into another, when the circumstances of the story are the same;

and in some such cases no one can say where the verses that are common

originally belonged. Here, indeed, as Grundtvig remarks, IV, 7, note*,

it may well be that the verses in question belonged originally to 'Burd

Helen,' and were adopted (but in the processes of tradition) into 'The

Water of Wearie's Well;' for it must be admitted that the transaction in

the water is not a happy conception in the latter, since it shocks

probability that the woman should be able to swim ashore, and the man

not.

[27] "This ballad appears modern, from a great many expressions, but yet

I am certain that it is old: the present copy came from the housekeeper

at Methven." Note by Sharpe, in Laing's ed. of the Ballad Book, 1880, p.

130, xvii. Motherwell, in his Minstrelsy, p. lxx, n. 24, says that he

had seen a stall ballad as early as 1749, entitled 'The Western

Tragedy,' which perfectly agreed with Sharpe's copy. But in his

Note-Book, p. 5 (about 1826-7), Motherwell says, "The best copy of May

Colean with which I have met occurs in a stall copy printed about thirty

years ago [should we then read 1799 instead of 1749?], under the title

of 'The Western Tragedy.' I have subsequently seen a posterior reprint

of this stall copy under this title, 'The Historical Ballad of May

Collean.' In Mr. Sharpe's Ballad Book, the same copy, wanting only one

stanza, is given."

[28] According to the variation given by Willems, and adopted by

Hoffmann, Halewijn's _son_ came to meet her, tied her horse to a tree,

and bade her to sit down by him and loose her hair. For every hair she

undid she dropped a tear. But it will presently be seen not only that

the time has not come for them to sit down, but that Halewijn's bidding

her undo her hair (to no purpose) is a perversion of her offering to

"red" _his_, to get him into her power, an offer which she makes in the

German and Scandinavian ballads, where also there is good reason for her

tears, but none as yet here.

[29] J. W. Wolf, Deutsche Märchen u. Sagen, No 29, p. 143, gives the

story according to #B#, apparently from a ballad like Snellaert's. So

Luise v. Ploennies, Reiseerinnerungen aus Belgien, p. 38.

Halewyn makes his appearance again in the Flemish ballad, 'Halewyn en

het kleyne Kind,' Coussemaker, No 46, p. 149; Poésies populaires de la

France, vol. I. A boy of seven years has shot one of Halewyn's rabbits,

and is for this condemned to be hanged on the highest tree in the park.

The father makes great offers for his ransom, but in vain. On the first

step of the ladder the child looks back for his mother, on the second

for his father, on the third for his brother, on the fourth for his

sister, each of whom successively arrives and is told that delay would

have cost him his life. It will presently be seen that there is a

resemblance here to German ballads (#G-X#, #Z#).

[30] "La chanson de Halewyn, telle à peu près que la donnent Willems,

Snellaert et de Coussemaker, se vend encore sur le marché de Bruges.

Quoiqu'elle porte pour titre _Halewyn_, jamais notre pièce n'a été

connue ici sous ce nom. Le nom de Halewijn, Alewijn ou Alwin ... est

réservé au héros de la pièce suivante" [Mi Adel en Hir Alewijn]. Lootens

et Feys, p. 66. "Il est a regretter que Willems et de Coussemaker

n'aient pas jugé à propos de donner cette pièce telle que le peuple l'a

conservée; on serait sans aucun doute en possession de variantes

remarquables, et les lacunes qui existent dans notre version n'eussent

pas manqué d'être com blées. Il est bon d'insister sur la remarque faite

à la suite de la chanson, qu'à Bruges et dans beaucoup de localités de

la Flandre, elle n'est connue que sous le titre de _Roland_. Ajoutons

que notre texte appartient au dernier siècle." L. et F., 295.

[31] So in 'Liebe ohne Stand,' one of the mixed forms of the German

ballad, Wunderhorn, Erk I, 41, Crecelius, I, 36,

Und als es nun kam an den dritten Tag,

Da gingen die Pfeiffen und Trommeln an.

[32] E.g., the wonderland in #A# 2-6, and the strict watch kept over the

lady in 7-10 are repeated in 'Ribold og Guldborg,' Grundtvig, 82, #B#

2-7, 8-11, and in 'Den trofaste Jomfru,' ib. 249, #A# 3-6, 7-10. The

watching in #A#, #B#, #C# and the proffered gifts of #C#, #D#, #F# are

found in 'Nøkkens Svig,' Grundtvig, 39, #A#, #B#, 12-18. The disguise in

#A# 11-14, the rest in the wood with the knight's head in the lady's

lap, #A# 16, 27, #B# 11, 21, #D# 14, 24, #E# 11, 21, etc., recur in

Ribold, #B# 12-14, #L# 9, 10, #M# 19, 20, #N# 11, 13, #P# 12, 13. These

resemblances, naturally, are not limited to the Danish copies.

[33] So the princess in Asbjörnsen og Moe, N. Folkeeventyr, p. 153. Cf.

Campbell's Tales of the West Highlands, III, 209; IV, 282, 283.

[34] The binding and waking, with these words, are found also in a

made-up text of 'Frændehævn,' Grundtvig, No 4, #C# 51-53, but certainly

borrowed from some copy of 'Kvindemorderen.'

[35] All the German versions appear to have been _originally_ in the

two-line stanza.

[36] The copies with this title in Simrock, No 6, p. 15, and in

Scherer's Jungbrunnen, No 5 A, and his Deutsche V. L., 1851, p. 349, are

compounded from various texts.

[37] Both #D# and #E# have attached to them this final stanza:

'Odilia, why are thy shoes so red?'

'It is three doves that I shot dead.'

This is a well-known commonplace in tragic ballads; and Grundtvig

suggests that this stanza was the occasion of the story taking the turn

which we find in ballads of the third class.

[38] One scarcely knows whether this bribe is an imperfect reminiscence

of splendid promises which the knight makes, e.g., in the Danish

ballads, or a shifting from the maid to the knight of the gold which the

elsewhere opulent or well-to-do maid gets together while the knight is

preparing to set forth; or simply one of those extravagances which so

often make their appearance in later versions of ballads.

[39] The number eleven is remarkably constant in the German ballads,

being found in #G#, #H#, #J-L#, #N-W#; it is also the number in Swedish

#B#. Eight is the favorite number in the North, and occurs in Danish

#A-D#, #H-L#, Swedish #A#, #C#, Norwegian #G#, #H#; again in German #I#.

German #M#, #X#, Danish #F#, have ten; German #A#, #B#, Danish #E#,

Norwegian #I#, have nine; German #C#, #D#, seven; Danish #G# has

nineteen. French #A#, #B# have fourteen, fifteen, Italian ballads still

higher numbers: #A#, #B#, #C#, thirty-six, #D#, fifty-two, #E#,

thirty-three, #F#, three hundred and three.

[40] This stroke of realism fails only in #M#, #N#, #R#, of this second

class.

[41] Apparently to a Ribold ballad, of which no other trace has been

found in German. See further on in this volume.

[42]

'Ach du schöne junkfraw fein,

Du pfalzgrävin, du kaiserin!

Der Adelger hat sich vor ailf getödt,

Du wirst die zwölft, das sei dir gsait.

'So bitt mich nit, du junkfraw fein,

So bitt mich nit, du herzigs ein!'

The _liebkosung_ of this murder-reeking Adelger, o'ersized with

coagulate gore, is admirably horrible.

[43] Nimmersatt (All-begehrend) as interpreted by Meinert, not Adelger.

[44] Verses which recur, nearly, not only in #Y# 17-19, #W# 27, 28, but

elsewhere, as in a copy of 'Graf Friedrich,' Erk's Liederhort, p. 41, No

15, st. 19.

[45] There is no sense in _two_ doves. The single dove one may suppose

to be the spirit of the last victim. We shall find the _eleven_

appearing as doves in #Q#. There is no occasion to regard the dove here

as a Waldminne (Vilmar, Handbüchlein für Freunde des deutschen

Volkslieds, p. 57). Cf. the nightingale (and two nightingales) in the

Danish 'Redselille og Medelvold:' see 'Leesome Brand,' further on in

this volume.