If the narrative in Jonah, i, is the ultimate source of this_The English and Scottish popular ballads, volume 1 (of 5)

stories, it must be owned that the tradition has maintained its

principal traits in this ballad remarkably well. Jonah flies from the

presence of the Lord in a ship; the ship is overtaken by a tempest;[206]

the sailors cast lots to know who is the guilty cause, and the lot falls

on Jonah; he bids the sailors take him up and cast him into the sea;

nevertheless the men row hard to bring the ship to land, but cannot

succeed; they throw Jonah into the water, and the storm ceases.[207]

Translated in Grundtvig's Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 199, No 31.

#A#

Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 123.

There was a rich lord, and he lived in Forfar,

He had a fair lady, and one only dochter.

O she was fair, O dear, she was bonnie!

A ship's captain courted her to be his honey.

There cam a ship's captain out owre the sea sailing,

He courted this young thing till he got her wi bairn.

'Ye'll steal your father's gowd, and your mother's money,

And I'll mak ye a lady in Ireland bonnie.'

She's stown her father's gowd, and her mother's money,

But she was never a lady in Ireland bonnie.

* * * * * * *

'There's fey fowk in our ship, she winna sail for me,

There's fey fowk in our ship, she winna sail for me.'

They've casten black bullets twice six and forty,

And ae the black bullet fell on bonnie Annie.

'Ye'll tak me in your arms twa, lo, lift me cannie,

Throw me out owre board, your ain dear Annie.'

He has tane her in his arms twa, lo, lifted her cannie,

He has laid her on a bed of down, his ain dear Annie.

'What can a woman do, love, I'll do for ye;'

'Muckle can a woman do, ye canna do for me.'

'Lay about, steer about, lay our ship cannie,

Do all ye can to save my dear Annie.'

'I've laid about, steerd about, laid about cannie,

But all I can do, she winna sail for me.

'Ye'll tak her in your arms twa, lo, lift her cannie,

And throw her out owre board, your ain dear Annie.'

He has tane her in his arms twa, lo, lifted her cannie,

He has thrown her out owre board, his ain dear Annie.

As the ship sailed, bonnie Annie she swam,

And she was at Ireland as soon as them.

He made his love a coffin of the gowd sae yellow,

And buried his bonnie love doun in a sea valley.

Motherwell's MS., p. 652. From the singing of a boy, Henry

French, Ayr.

Down in Dumbarton there wonnd a rich merchant,

Down in Dumbarton there wond a rich merchant,

And he had nae family but ae only dochter.

Sing fal lal de deedle, fal lal de deedle lair, O a day

There cam a rich squire, intending to woo her,

He wooed her until he had got her wi babie.

'Oh what shall I do! oh what shall come o me!

Baith father and mither will think naething o me.'

'Gae up to your father, bring down gowd and money,

And I'll take ye ower to a braw Irish ladie.'

She gade to her father, brought down gowd and money,

And she's awa ower to a braw Irish ladie.

She hadna sailed far till the young thing cried 'Women!'

'What women can do, my dear, I'll do for you.'

'O haud your tongue, foolish man, dinna talk vainly,

For ye never kent what a woman driet for you.

'Gae wash your hands in the cauld spring water,

And dry them on a towel a' giltit wi silver.

'And tak me by the middle, and lift me up saftlie,

And throw me ower shipboard, baith me and my babie.'

He took her by the middle, and lifted her saftly,

And threw her ower shipboard, baith her and her babie.

Sometimes she did sink, sometimes she did float it,

Until that she cam to the high banks o Yarrow.

'O captain tak gowd, O sailors tak money,

And launch out your sma boat till I sail for my honey.'

'How can I tak gowd, how can I tak money?

My ship's on a sand bank, she winna sail for me.'

The captain took gowd, the sailors took money,

And they launchd out their sma boat till he sailed for his honey.

'Mak my love a coffin o the gowd sae yellow,

Whar the wood it is dear, and the planks they are narrow,

And bury my love on the high banks o Yarrow.'

They made her a coffin o the gowd sae yellow,

And buried her deep on the high banks o Yarrow.

* * * * *

#A.#

_Printed by Kinloch in four-line stanzas._

16^1. coffin off the Goats of Yerrow.

#B.#

16. _Motherwell, Minstrelsy, p. xcix_, 146, _gives the

stanza thus_:

They made his love a coffin of the gowd sae yellow,

And they buried her deep on the high banks of Yarrow.

Sing fal lal, de deedle, fal lal, de deedle lair, Oh a Day!

[206] Jonah is asleep below. This trait we find in several Norse

ballads: see 'Brown Robyn's Confession.'

[207] A singular episode in the life of Saint Mary Magdalen in the

Golden Legend, Grässe, c. xcvi, 2, p. 409 ff, indicates a belief that

even a dead body might prejudice the safety of a ship. The princess of

Marseilles, in the course of a storm, has given birth to a boy and

expired. The sailors demand that the body shall be thrown into the sea

(and apparently the boy, too), for, they say, as long as it shall be

with us, this thumping will not cease. They presently see a hill, and

think it better to put off the corpse, _and the boy_, there, than that

these should be devoured by sea-monsters. Fear will fasten upon anything

in such a case.

The Digby Mystery of Mary Magdalene has this scene, at p. 122 of the New

Shakspere Society edition, ed. Furnivall.

WILLIE'S LYKE-WAKE

#A.# 'Willie, Willie,' Kinloch's MSS, I, 53.

#B. a.# 'Blue Flowers and Yellow,' Buchan's Ballads of the

North of Scotland, I, 185. #b.# 'The Blue Flowers and the

Yellow,' Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 120.

#C.# Motherwell's MS., p. 187.

#D.# 'Amang the blue flowers and yellow,' Motherwell's

Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xix, No XVII, one stanza.

This piece was first printed by Buchan, in 1828, and all the copies

which have been recovered are of about that date. The device of a

lover's feigning death as a means of winning a shy mistress enjoys a

considerable popularity in European ballads. Even more favorite is a

ballad in which the _woman_ adopts this expedient, in order to escape

from the control of her relations: see 'The Gay Goshawk,' with which

will be given another form of the present story.

A #Danish# ballad answering to our Feigned Lyke-Wake is preserved, as I

am informed by Professor Grundtvig, in no less than fourteen

manuscripts, some of them of the 16th century, and is still living in

tradition. Five versions, as yet unprinted, #A-E#, have been furnished

me by the editor of the Ballads of Denmark.

#A#, from a manuscript of the sixteenth century. Young Herre Karl asks

his mother's rede how he may get the maid his heart is set upon. She

advises him to feign sickness, and be laid on his bier, no one to know

his counsel but the page who is to do his errands. The page bids the

lady to the wake that night. Little Kirstin asks her mother's leave to

keep wake over Karl. The wake is to be in the upper room of Karl's

house. The mother says, Be on your guard; he means to cheat you; but

Kirstin, neither listening to her mother nor asking her father, goes to

keep wake in the upper room. When she went in she could not see the

lights for her tears. She begged all the good people to pray for Karl's

soul, sat down by his head and made her own prayer, and murmured, While

thou livedst I loved thee. She lifted the cloths, and there lay Karl

wide awake and laughing. "All the devils in hell receive thy soul!" she

cried. "If thou livedst a hundred years, thou shouldst never have my

good will! "Karl proposed that she should pass the night with him. "Why

would you deceive me!" Kirstin exclaimed. "Why did you not go to my

father and betroth me honorably?" Karl immediately rode to her father's

to do this, and they were married.

#B. a#, from MSS of 1610 and later, almost identical with #b#, 'Den

forstilte Vaagestue,' Levninger, Part II, 1784, p. 34, No 7.[208] This

version gives us some rather unnecessary previous history. Karl has sued

for Ingerlille three years, and had an ill answer. He follows her to

church one fine day, and, after mass, squeezes her fingers and asks,

Will you take pity on me? She replies, You must ask my father and

friends; and he, I have, and can get no good answer. If you will give me

your troth, we can see to that best ourselves. "Never," she says.

"Farewell, then; but Christ may change your mind." Karl meets his mother

on his way from church, who asks why he is so pale. He tells her his

plight, and is advised, as before, to use craft. The wake is held on

Karl's premises.[209] Ingerlille, in scarlet mantle, goes with her

maids. She avows her love, but adds that it was a fixed idea in her mind

that he would deceive her. She lifts up the white cloth that covers the

face. Karl laughs, and says, We were good friends before, so are we

still. Bear out the bier, and follow me to bed with the fair maid. She

hopes he will have respect for her honor. Karl reassures her, leaves her

with his mother, rides to Ingerlille's house, obtains her parents'

approbation, and buys wine for his wedding.

#C#, from manuscripts of the sixteenth century. Karl is given out for

dead, and his pages ride to the convent to ask that his body may be laid

in the cloister. The bier is borne in; the prioress comes to meet it,

with much respect. The pages go about bidding maids to the wake. Ellin

asks her mother if she may go. (This looks as if there had originally

been no convent in the ballad.) Her mother tells her to put on red gold

and be wary of Karl, he is so very tricky. When Ellin owns her

attachment, Karl whispers softly, Do not weep, but follow me. Horses

were ready at the portal--_black_ horses all!

Karl sprang from the bier, took Ellin, and made for the door. The nuns,

who stood reading in the choir, thought it was an angel that had

translated her, and wished one would come for them. Karl, with fifteen

men who were in waiting, carried Ellin home, and drank his bridal with

her.

#D#, from recent oral tradition. As Karl lay in his bed, he said, How

shall I get the fair maid out of the convent? His foster-mother heard

him, and recommended him to feign death and bid the fair maid to his

wake. The maid asked her father's leave to go, but he said, Nay, the

moment you are inside the door he will seize you by the foot. But when

the page, who had first come in blue, comes back in scarlet, she goes.

She stands at Karl's head and says, I never shall forget thee; at his

feet, "I wished thee well;" at his side, "Thou wast my dearest." Then

she turns and bids everybody good-night, but Karl seizes her, and calls

to his friends to come drink his bridal. We hear nothing of the convent

after the first stanza.

#E#, from oral tradition of another quarter. Karl consults his mother

how he shall get little Kirstin out of the convent, and receives the

same counsel. A page is sent to the convent, and asks who will come to

the wake now Herr Karl is dead? Little Kirstin, without application to

the prioress, goes to her mother, who does not forbid her, but warns her

that Karl will capture her as sure as she goes into the room.

The maid has the door by the handle,

And is wishing them all good-night;

Young Karl, that lay a corpse on the bier,

Sprang up and held her tight.

'Why here's a board and benches,

And there's no dead body here;

This eve I'll drink my mead and wine,

All with my Kirstin dear.

'Why here's a board and beds too,

And here there's nobody dead;

To-morrow will I go to the priest,

All with my plighted maid.'

#F#, another copy from recent tradition, was published in 1875, in

Kristensen's Jyske Folkeviser, II, 213, No 62, 'Vaagestuen.' There is no

word of a convent here. The story is made very short. Kirsten's mother

says she will be fooled if she goes to the wake. The last stanza,

departing from all other copies, says that when Kirsten woke in the

morning Karl was off.

#G.# 'Klosterranet,' Levninger, I, 23, No 4 (1780), Danske Viser, IV,

261, No 212, a very second-rate ballad, may have the praise of

preserving consistency and conventual discipline. The young lady does

not slip out to see her mother without leave asked and had. It is my

persuasion that the convent, with its little jest about the poor nuns,

is a later invention, and that #C# is a blending of two different

stories. In #G#, Herr Morten betroths Proud Adeluds, who is more

virtuous than rich. His friends object; her friends do not want spirit,

and swear that she shall never be his. Morten's father sends him out of

the country, and Adeluds is put into a convent. After nine years Morten

returns, and, having rejected an advantageous match proposed by his

father, advises with his brother, Herr Nilaus, how to get his true love

out of the cloister. The brother's plan is that of the mother and

foster-mother in the other versions. Herr Nilaus promises a rich gift if

Morten's body may be buried within the cloister. From this point the

story is materially the same as in #C#.

#H.# A copy, which I have not yet seen, in Rahbek's Læsning i blandede

Æmner (or Hesperus), III, 151, 1822 (Bergström).

* * * * *

'Hertugen af Skage,' Danske Viser, II, 191, No 88, has this slight

agreement with the foregoing ballads. Voldemar, the king's youngest son,

hearing that the duke has a daughter, Hildegerd, that surpasses all

maids, seeks her out in a convent in which she has taken refuge, and

gets a cold reception. He feigns death, desiring that his bones may

repose in the cloister. His bier is carried into the convent church.

Hildegerd lights nine candles for him, and expresses compassion for his

early death. While she is standing before the altar of the Virgin,

Voldemar carries her out of the church by force.

* * * * *

This, says Afzelius, 1814, is one of the commonest ballads in #Sweden#,

and is often represented as a drama by young people in country places.

#A a#, 'Herr Carl, eller Klosterrofvet,' Afzelius, I, 179, No 26, new

ed. No 24; #b#, Afzelius, Sago-Häfder, ed. 1851, IV, 106. #B#, Atterbom,

Poetisk Kalender for 1816, p. 63, 'Det Iefvande Liket.' #C#. Rancken,

Några Prof af Folksång, o. s. v., p. 13, No 4. These differ but slightly

from Danish #D#, #E#. All three conclude with the humorous verses about

the nuns, which in Rancken's copy take this rollicking turn:

And all the nuns in the convent they all danced in a ring;

'Christ send another such angel, to take us all under his wing!'

And all the nuns in the convent, they all danced each her lone;

'Christ send another such angel, to take us off every one!'

Bergström, new Afzelius, II, 131, refers to another version in

Gyllenmärs' visbok, p. 191, and to a good copy obtained by himself.

An Icelandic version for the 17th century, which is after the fashion of

Danish #C#, #G#, is given in Íslenzk Fornkvæði, II, 59, No 40, 'Marteins

kviða.' The lover has in all three a troop of armed men in waiting

outside of the convent.

Professor Bugge has obtained a version in Norway, which, however, is as

to language essentially Danish. (Bergström, as above.)

There is a very gay and pretty south-European ballad, in which the

artifice of feigning death is successfully tried by a lover after the

failure of other measures.

#A.# #Magyar.# Arany and Gyulai, I, 172, No 18, 'Pálbeli Szép Antal;'

translated by Aigner, Ungarische Volksdichtungen, p. 80, 'Schön Anton.'

Handsome Tony tells his mother that he shall die for Helen. The mother

says, Not yet. I will build a marvellous mill. The first wheel shall

grind out pearls, the middle stone discharge kisses, the third wheel

distribute small change. The pretty maids will come to see, and Helen

among them. Helen asks her mother's leave to see the mill. "Go not," the

mother replies. "They are throwing the net, and a fox will be caught."

Tony again says he must die. His mother says, not yet; for she will

build an iron bridge; the girls will come to see it, and Helen among

them. Helen asks to see the bridge; her mother answers as before. Tony

says once more that he shall die for Helen. His mother again rejoins,

Not yet. Make believe to be dead; the girls will come to see you, and

Helen among them. Helen entreats to be allowed to go to see the handsome

young man that has died. Her mother tells her she will never come back.

Tony's mother calls to him to get up; the girl he was dying for is even

now before the gate, in the court, standing at his feet. "Never," says

Helen, "saw I so handsome a dead man,--eyes smiling, mouth tempting

kisses, and his feet all ready for a spring." Up he jumped and embraced

her.

#B.# #Italian.# Ferraro, Canti popolari monferrini, p. 59, No 40, 'Il

Genovese.' The Genoese, not obtaining the beautiful daughter of a rich

merchant on demand, plants a garden. All the girls come for flowers,

except the one desired. He then gives a ball, with thirty-two musicians.

All the girls are there, but not the merchant's daughter. He then builds

a church, very richly adorned. All the girls come to mass, all but one.

Next he sets the bells a ringing, in token of his death. The fair one

goes to the window to ask who is dead. The good people ("ra bun-ha

gent," in the Danish ballad "det gode folk") tell her that it is her

first love, and suggest that she should attend the funeral. She asks her

father, who consents if she will not cry. As she was leaving the church,

the lover came to life, and called to the priests and friars to stop

singing. They went to the high altar to be married.

#C.# #Slovenian.# Vraz, Narodne peśni ilirske, p. 93, 'Čudna

bolezen' ('Strange Sickness'); translated by Anastasius Grün,

Volkslieder aus Krain, p. 36, 'Der Scheintodte.' "Build a church,

mother," cries the love-sick youth, "that all who will may hear mass;

perhaps my love among them." The mother built a church, one and another

came, but not his love. "Dig a well, mother, that those who will may

fetch water; perhaps my love among them." The well was dug, one and

another came for water, but not his love. "Say I am dead, mother, that

those who will may come to pray." Those who wished came, his love first

of all. The youth was peeping through the window. "What kind of dead man

is this, that stretches his arms for an embrace, and puts out his mouth

for a kiss?"

* * * * *

Danish #G# translated by the Rev. J. Johnstone, 'The Robbery of the

Nunnery, or, The Abbess Outwitted,' Copenhagen, 1786 (Danske Viser, IV,

366); by Prior, III, 400. Swedish #A#, by G. Stephens, For. Quar. Rev.,

1841, XXVI, 49, and by the Howitts, Lit. and Rom. of Northern Europe, I,

292. English #C#, by Rosa Warrens, Schottische V. 1., p. 144, No 33.

Kinloch's MSS, I, 53, from the recitation of Mary Barr,

Lesmahagow, aged upwards of seventy. May, 1827.

'Willie, Willie, I'll learn you a wile,'

And the sun shines over the valleys and a'

'How this pretty fair maid ye may beguile.'

Amang the blue flowrs and the yellow and a'

'Ye maun lie doun just as ye were dead,

And tak your winding-sheet around your head.

'Ye maun gie the bellman his bell-groat,

To ring your dead-bell at your lover's yett.'

He lay doun just as he war dead,

And took his winding-sheet round his head.

He gied the bellman his bell-groat,

To ring his dead-bell at his lover's yett.

'O wha is this that is dead, I hear?'

'O wha but Willie that loed ye sae dear.'

She is to her father's chamber gone,

And on her knees she's fallen down.

'O father, O father, ye maun grant me this;

I hope that ye will na tak it amiss.

'That I to Willie's burial should go;

For he is dead, full well I do know.'

'Ye'll tak your seven bauld brethren wi thee,

And to Willie's burial straucht go ye.'

It's whan she cam to the outmost yett,

She made the silver fly round for his sake.

It's whan she cam to the inmost yett,

She made the red gowd fly round for his sake.

As she walked frae the court to the parlour there,

The pretty corpse syne began for to steer.

He took her by the waist sae neat and sae sma,

And threw her atween him and the wa.

'O Willie, O Willie, let me alane this nicht,

O let me alane till we're wedded richt.'

'Ye cam unto me baith sae meek and mild,

But I'll mak ye gae hame a wedded wife wi child.'

#a.# Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 185.

#b.# Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 120.

'O Willie my son, what makes you sae sad?'

As the sun shines over the valley

'I lye sarely sick for the love of a maid.'

Amang the blue flowers and the yellow

'Were she an heiress or lady sae free,

That she will take no pity on thee?

'O Willie, my son, I'll learn you a wile,

How this fair maid ye may beguile.

'Ye'll gie the principal bellman a groat,

And ye'll gar him cry your dead lyke-wake.'

Then he gae the principal bellman a groat,

He bade him cry his dead lyke-wake.

This maiden she stood till she heard it a',

And down frae her cheeks the tears did fa.

She is hame to her father's ain bower:

'I'll gang to yon lyke-wake ae single hour.'

'Ye must take with you your ain brither John;

It's not meet for maidens to venture alone.'

'I'll not take with me my brither John,

But I'll gang along, myself all alone.'

When she came to young Willie's yate,

His seven brithers were standing thereat.

Then they did conduct her into the ha,

Amang the weepers and merry mourners a'.

When she lifted up the covering sae red,

With melancholy countenance to look on the dead,

He's taen her in his arms, laid her gainst the wa,

Says, 'Lye ye here, fair maid, till day.'

'O spare me, O spare me, but this single night,

And let me gang hame a maiden sae bright.'

'Tho all your kin were about your bower,

Ye shall not be a maiden ae single hour.

'Fair maid, ye came here without a convoy,

But ye shall return wi a horse and a boy.

'Ye came here a maiden sae mild,

But ye shall gae hame a wedded wife with child.'

Motherwell's MS., p. 187.

'O Willie, Willie, what makes thee so sad?'

And the sun shines over the valley

'I have loved a lady these seven years and mair.'

Down amang the blue flowers and the yellow

'O Willie, lie down as thou were dead,

And lay thy winding-sheet down at thy head.

'And gie to the bellman a belling-great,

To ring the dead-bell at thy love's bower-yett.'

He laid him down as he were dead,

And he drew the winding-sheet oer his head.

5 He gied to the bellman a belling-great,

To ring the dead-bell at his love's bower-yett.

* * * * * * *

When that she came to her true lover's gate,

She dealt the red gold and all for his sake.

And when that she came to her true lover's bower,

She had not been there for the space of half an hour,

Till that she cam to her true lover's bed,

And she lifted the winding-sheet to look at the dead.

He took her by the hand so meek and sma,

And he cast her over between him and the wa.

'Tho all your friends were in the bower,

I would not let you go for the space of half an hour.

'You came to me without either horse or boy,

But I will send you home with a merry convoy.'

Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xix, No XVII.

'O Johnie, dear Johnie, what makes ye sae sad?'

As the sun shines ower the valley

'I think nae music will mak ye glad.'

Amang the blue flowers and the yellow

* * * * *

#B.#

#b# _is #a# with stanzas 3, 12-15 omitted, and_ "a few

alterations, _some_ of them given from the recitation of

an old woman." "Buchan's version differs little from the

way the old woman sang the ballad." _The old woman's

variations, so far as adopted, are certainly of the most

trifling._

1^2. I am.

2^1. Is she.

7^1. And she.

16^1. Ye've come.

16^4. And ye.

17. _Evidently by Christie_:

'Fair maid, I love thee as my life,

But ye shall gae hame a lovd wedded wife.'

#C.#

_Burden. The lines are transposed in the second stanza,

but are given in the third in the order of the first._

3^1, 5^1. _MS._ belling great.

11^2. you come.

[208] But #a# has two stanzas more: the first a stev-stamme, or lyrical

introduction (see p. 7), the other, 31, nearly a repetition of Sandvig's

29.

[209] After the page has bidden Ingerlille to the wake, we are told, #a#

27, 28, #b# 26, 27: all the convent bells were going, and the tidings

spreading that the knight was dead; all the ladies of the convent sat

sewing, except Ingerlille, who wept. But Ingerlille, in the next stanza,

puts on her scarlet cloak and goes to the höjeloft to see her father and

mother. The two stanzas quoted signify nothing in this version.

THE THREE RAVENS

#a.# Melismata. Musicall Phansies. Fitting the Court,

Cittie, and Countrey Humours. London, 1611, No 20.[210]

[T. Ravenscroft.]

#b.# 'The Three Ravens,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy,

Appendix, p. xviii, No XII.

If the narrative in Jonah, i, is the ultimate source of this and similar