p. 155. Mr. Chappell remarked, about 1855, Popular Music of the Olden
Time, I, 59, that this ballad was still so popular in some parts of the
country that he had "been favored with a variety of copies of it,
written down from memory, and all differing in some respects, both as to
words and tune, but with sufficient resemblance to prove a similar
origin." Motherwell, Minstrelsy, Introduction, p. lxxvii, note 49, says
he had met with several copies almost the same as #a.# #b# is the first
stanza of one of these (traditional) versions, "very popular in
Scotland."
The following verses, first printed in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish
Border, and known in several versions in Scotland, are treated by
Motherwell and others as a traditionary form of 'The Three Ravens.' They
are, however, as Scott says, "rather a counterpart than a copy of the
other," and sound something like a cynical variation of the tender
little English ballad. Dr Rimbault (Notes and Queries, Ser. V, III, 518)
speaks of unprinted copies taken down by Mr Blaikie and by Mr Thomas
Lyle of Airth.
THE TWA CORBIES.
#a.# Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, III, 239, ed.
1803, communicated by C. K. Sharpe, as written down from
tradition by a lady. #b.# Albyn's Anthology, II, 27, 1818,
"from the singing of Mr Thomas Shortreed, of Jedburgh, as
sung and recited by his mother." #c.# Chambers's Scottish
Ballads, p. 283, partly from recitation and partly from
the Border Minstrelsy. #d.# Fraser-Tytler MS., p. 70.
1
As I was walking all alane,
I heard twa corbies making a mane;
The tane unto the t'other say,
'Where sall we gang and dine to-day?'
2
'In behint yon auld fail dyke,
I wot there lies a new slain knight;
And naebody kens that he lies there,
But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair.
3
'His hound is to the hunting gane,
His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame,
His lady's ta'en another mate,
So we may mak our dinner sweet.
4
'Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane,
And I'll pike out his bonny blue een;
Wi ae lock o his gowden hair
We' theek our nest when it grows bare.
5
'Mony a one for him makes mane,
But nane sall ken where he is gane;
Oer his white banes, when they are bare,
The wind sall blaw for evermair.'
'The Three Ravens' is translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske
Folkeviser, p. 145, No 23; by Henrietta Schubart, p. 155; Gerhard, p.
95; Rosa Warrens, Schottische V. l. der Vorzeit, p. 198; Wolff, Halle
der Völker, I, 12, Hausschatz, p. 205.
'The Twa Corbies' (Scott), by Grundtvig, p. 143, No 22; Arndt, p. 224;
Gerhard, p. 94; Schubart, p. 157; Knortz, L. u. R. Alt-Englands, p. 194;
Rosa Warrens, p. 89. The three first stanzas, a little freely rendered
into four, pass for Pushkin's: Works, 1855, II, 462, xxiv.
1
There were three rauens sat on a tree,
Downe a downe, hay down, hay downe
There were three rauens sat on a tree,
With a downe
There were three rauens sat on a tree,
They were as blacke as they might be.
With a downe derrie, derrie, derrie, downe, downe
2
The one of them said to his mate,
'Where shall we our breakefast take?'
3
'Downe in yonder greene field,
There lies a knight slain vnder his shield.
4
'His hounds they lie downe at his feete,
So well they can their master keepe.
5
'His haukes they flie so eagerly,
There's no fowle dare him come nie.'
6
Downe there comes a fallow doe,
As great with yong as she might goe.
7
She lift vp his bloudy hed,
And kist his wounds that were so red.
8
She got him vp vpon her backe,
And carried him to earthen lake.
9
She buried him before the prime,
She was dead herselfe ere euen-song time.
10
God send euery gentleman,
Such haukes, such hounds, and such a leman.
* * * * *
#b.#
Three ravens sat upon a tree,
Hey down, hey derry day
Three ravens sat upon a tree,
Hey down
Three ravens sat upon a tree,
And they were black as black could be.
And sing lay doo and la doo and day
_Variations of The Twa Corbies._
#b.#
1.
As I cam by yon auld house end,
I saw twa corbies sittin thereon.
2^1. Whare but by yon new fa'en birk.
3.
We'll sit upon his bonny breast-bane,
And we'll pick out his bonny gray een;
We'll set our claws intil his yallow hair,
And big our bowr, it's a' blawn bare.
4.
My mother clekit me o an egg,
And brought me up i the feathers gray,
And bade me flee whereer I wad,
For winter wad be my dying day.
5.
Now winter it is come and past,
And a' the birds are biggin their nests,
But I'll flee high aboon them a',
And sing a sang for summer's sake.
#c.#
1.
As I gaed doun by yon hous-en,
Twa corbies there were sittand their lane.
2^1. O down beside yon new-faun birk.
3^1. His horse.
3^2. His hounds to bring the wild deer hame.
4.
O we'll sit on his bonnie breist-bane,
And we'll pyke out his bonnie grey een.
#d.#
1^1. walking forth.
1^2. the ither.
1^3. we twa dine.
3^2. wild bird.
5^2. naebody kens.
5^3. when we've laid them bare.
5^4. win may blaw.
[210] Misprinted 22.
27
THE WHUMMIL BORE
#a.# Motherwell's MS., p. 191. #b.# Motherwell's
Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xvi, No III.
This ballad, if it ever were one, seems not to have been met with, or at
least to have been thought worth notice, by anybody but Motherwell. As
already observed in the preface to 'Hind Horn,' stanza 2 seems to have
slipped into that ballad, in consequence of the resemblance of stanza 1
to #F# 2, #H# 3 of 'Hind Horn.' This first stanza is, however, a
commonplace in English and elsewhere: e. g., 'The Squire of Low Degree:'
He served the kyng, her father dere,
Fully the tyme of seven yere. vv 5, 6.
He loved her more then seven yere,
Yet was he of her love never the nere. vv 17, 18.
Ritson, Met. Rom. III, 145 f.
1
Seven lang years I hae served the king,
Fa fa fa fa lilly
And I never got a sight of his daughter but ane.
With my glimpy, glimpy, glimpy eedle,
Lillum too tee a ta too a tee a ta a tally
2
I saw her thro a whummil bore,
And I neer got a sight of her no more.
3
Twa was putting on her gown,
And ten was putting pins therein.
4
Twa was putting on her shoon,
And twa was buckling them again.
5
Five was combing down her hair,
And I never got a sight of her nae mair.
6
Her neck and breast was like the snow,
Then from the bore I was forced to go.
* * * * *
#a.#
2^2. _Variation_: And she was washing in a pond.
6^2. _Variation_: Ye might have tied me with a strae.
#b.#
_Burden_:
Fa, fa, falilly
With my glimpy, glimpy, glimpy eedle,
Lillum too a tee too a tally.
28
BURD ELLEN AND YOUNG TAMLANE
Maidment's North Countrie Garland, 1824, p. 21.
Communicated by R. Pitcairn, "from the recitation of a
female relative, who had heard it frequently sung in her
childhood," about sixty years before the above date.
Motherwell informs us, Minstrelsy, p. xciv of Introduction, note to 141,
that 'Burd Helen and Young Tamlene' is very popular, and that various
sets of it are to be found traditionally current (1827). Still I have
not found it, out of Maidment's little book; not even in Motherwell's
large folio.
I cannot connect this fragment with what is elsewhere handed down
concerning Tamlane, or with the story of any other ballad.
1
Burd Ellen sits in her bower windowe,
With a double laddy double, and for the double dow
Twisting the red silk and the blue.
With the double rose and the May-hay
2
And whiles she twisted, and whiles she twan,
And whiles the tears fell down amang.
3
Till once there by cam Young Tamlane:
'Come light, oh light, and rock your young son.'
4
'If you winna rock him, you may let him rair,
For I hae rockit my share and mair.'
* * * * * * *
5
Young Tamlane to the seas he's gane,
And a' women's curse in his company's gane.
29
THE BOY AND THE MANTLE
Percy MS., p. 284. Hales & Furnivall, II, 304.
This ballad and the two which follow it are clearly not of the same
rise, and not meant for the same ears, as those which go before. They
would come down by professional rather than by domestic tradition,
through minstrels rather than knitters and weavers. They suit the hall
better than the bower, the tavern or public square better than the
cottage, and would not go to the spinning-wheel at all. An exceedingly
good piece of minstrelsy 'The Boy and the Mantle' is, too; much livelier
than most of the numerous variations on the somewhat overhandled
theme.[211]
Of these, as nearest related, the fabliau or "romance" of Le Mantel
Mautaillié, 'Cort Mantel,' must be put first: Montaiglon et Raynaud,
Recueil Général des Fabliaux, III, 1, from four manuscripts, three of
the thirteenth century, one of the fourteenth; and previously by Michel,
from the three older manuscripts, in Wolf, Ueber die Lais, p. 324. A
rendering of the fabliau in prose, existing in a single manuscript, was
several times printed in the sixteenth century: given in Legrand, ed.
Renouard, I, 126, and before, somewhat modernized, by Caylus, 'Les
Manteaux,' Œuvres Badines, VI, 435.[212]
The story in 'Cort Mantel' goes thus. Arthur was holding full court at
Pentecost, never more splendidly. Not only kings, dukes, and counts were
there, but the attendance of all young bachelors had been commanded, and
he that had a _bele amie_ was to bring her. The court assembled on
Saturday, and on Sunday all the world went to church. After service the
queen took the ladies to her apartments, till dinner should be ready.
But it was Arthur's wont not to dine that day until he had had or heard
of some adventure;[213] dinner was kept waiting; and it was therefore
with great satisfaction that the knights saw a handsome and courteous
varlet arrive, who must certainly bring news; news that was not to be
good to all, though some would be pleased (cf. stanza 5 of the ballad).
A maid had sent him from a very distant country to ask a boon of the
king. He was not to name the boon or the lady till he had the king's
promise; but what he asked was no harm. The king having said that he
would grant what was asked, the varlet took from a bag a beautiful
mantle, of fairy workmanship. This mantle would fit no dame or damsel
who had in any way misbehaved towards husband or lover; it would be too
short or too long; and the boon was that the king should require all the
ladies of the court to put it on.
The ladies were still waiting dinner, unconscious of what was coming.
Gawain was sent to require their presence, and he simply told them that
the magnificent mantle was to be given to the one it best fitted. The
king repeated the assurance, and the queen, who wished much to win the
mantle, was the first to try it on. It proved too short. Ywain suggested
that a young lady who stood near the queen should try. This she readily
did, and what was short before was shorter still. Kay, who had been
making his comments unguardedly, now divulged the secret, and after that
nobody cared to have to do with the mantle. The king said, We may as
well give it back; but the varlet insisted on having the king's promise.
There was general consternation and bad humor.
Kay called his mistress, and very confidently urged her to put on the
mantle. She demurred, on the ground that she might give offence by
forwardness; but this roused suspicion in Kay, and she had no resource
but to go on. The mantle was again lamentably short. Bruns and Ydier let
loose some gibes. Kay bade them wait; he had hopes for them. Gawain's
_amie_ next underwent the test, then Ywain's, then Perceval's. Still a
sad disappointment. Many were the curses on the mantle that would fit
nobody, and on him that brought it. Kay takes the unlucky ladies, one
after the other, to sit with his mistress.
At this juncture Kay proposes that they shall have dinner, and continue
the experiment by and by. The varlet is relentless; but Kay has the
pleasure of seeing Ydier discomfited. And so they go on through the
whole court, till the varlet says that he fears he shall be obliged to
carry his mantle away with him. But first let the chambers be searched;
some one may be in hiding who may save the credit of the court. The king
orders a search, and they find one lady, not in hiding, but in her bed,
because she is not well. Being told that she must come, she presents
herself as soon as she can dress, greatly to the vexation of her lover,
whose name is Carados Briebras. The varlet explains to her the quality
of the mantle, and Carados, in verses very honorable to his heart, begs
that she will not put it on if she has any misgivings.[214] The lady
says very meekly that she dare not boast being better than other people,
but, if it so please her lord, she will willingly don the mantle. This
she does, and in sight of all the barons it is neither too short nor too
long. "It was well we sent for her," says the varlet. "Lady, your lover
ought to be delighted. I have carried this mantle to many courts, and of
more than a thousand who have put it on you are the only one that has
escaped disgrace. I give it to you, and well you deserve it." The king
confirms the gift, and no one can gainsay.
A Norse prose translation of the French fabliau was executed by order of
the Norwegian king, Hákon Hákonarson, whose reign covers the years
1217-63. Of this translation, 'Möttuls Saga,' a fragment has come down
which is as old as 1300; there are also portions of a manuscript which
is assigned to about 1400, and two transcripts of this latter, made when
it was complete, besides other less important copies. This translation,
which is reasonably close and was made from a good exemplar, has been
most excellently edited by Messrs Cederschiöld and Wulff, Versions
nordiques du Fabliau Le Mantel Mautaillié, Lund, 1877, p. 1.[215] It
presents no divergences from the story as just given which are material
here.
Not so with the 'Skikkju Rímur,' or Mantle Rhymes, an Icelandic
composition of the fifteenth century, in three parts, embracing in all
one hundred and eighty-five four-line stanzas: Cederschiöld and Wulff,
p. 51. In these the story is told with additions, which occur partially
in our ballad. The mantle is of white velvet. Three elf-women had been
not less than fifteen years in weaving it, and it seemed both yellow and
gray, green and black, red and blue: II, 22, 23, 26. Our English
minstrel describes these variations of color as occurring after Guenever
had put the mantle on: stanzas 11, 12. Again, there are among the
Pentecostal guests a king and queen of Dwarf Land; a beardless king of
Small-Maids Land, with a queen eight years old; and a King Felix, three
hundred years old, with a beard to the crotch, and a wife, tall and fat,
to whom he has been two centuries married,--all these severally attended
by generous retinues of pigmies, juveniles, and seniors: I, 28-35; III,
41. Felix is of course the prototype of the old knight pattering over a
creed in stanzas 21-24 of the ballad, and he will have his
representative in several other pieces presently to be spoken of. In the
end Arthur sends all the ladies from his court in disgrace, and his
knights to the wars; we will get better wives, he says: III, 74, 75.
The land of Small-Maids and the long-lived race are mentioned in a brief
geographical chapter (the thirteenth) of that singular gallimaufry the
saga of Samson the Fair, but not in connection with a probation by the
mantle, though this saga has appropriated portions of the story. Here
the mantle is one which four fairies have worked at for eighteen years,
as a penalty for stealing from the fleece of a very remarkable ram; and
it is of this same fleece, described as being of all hues, gold, silk,
_ok kolors_, that the mantle is woven. It would hold off from an
unchaste woman and fall off from a thief. Quintalin, to ransom his life,
undertakes to get the mantle for Samson. Its virtue is tried at two
weddings, the second being Samson's; and on this last occasion
Valentina, Samson's bride, is the only woman who can put it on. The
mantle is given to Valentina, as in the fabliau to Carados's wife, but
nevertheless we hear later of its being presented by Samson to another
lady, who, a good while after, was robbed of the same by a pirate, and
the mantle carried to Africa. From Africa it was sent to our Arthur by a
lady named Elida, "and hence the saga of the mantle."[216] Björner,
Nordiska Kämpa Dater, cc 12, 14, 15, 21, 22, 24.
There is also an incomplete German version of the fabliau, now credibly
shown to be the work of Heinrich von dem Türlin, dating from the
earliest years of the thirteenth century.[217] Though the author has
dealt freely with his original, there are indications that this, like
the Möttulssaga, was founded upon some version of the fabliau which is
not now extant. One of these is an agreement between vv 574-6 and the
sixth stanza of our ballad. The mantle, in English, is enclosed between
two nut-shells;[218] in German, the bag from which it is taken is hardly
a span wide. In the Möttulssaga, p. 9, l. 6, the mantle comes from a
púss, a small bag hanging on the belt; in Ulrich von Zatzikhoven's
Lanzelet, from ein mæzigez teschelîn, and in the latter case the mantle
instantaneously expands to full size (Warnatsch); it is also of all
colors known to man, vv 5807-19. Again, when Guenever had put on the
mantle, st. 10 of our ballad, "it was from the top to the toe as sheeres
had itt shread." So in 'Der Mantel,' vv 732, 733:
Unde [==unten] het man in zerizzen,
Oder mit mezzern zesnitten.[219]
The Lanzelet of Ulrich von Zatzikhoven, dating from the first years of
the thirteenth century, with peculiarities of detail and a partially new
set of names, presents the outline of the same story. A sea-fairy sends
a maid to Arthur with a magnificent gift, which is, however, conditioned
upon his granting a boon. Arthur assents, and the maid takes, from a
small bag which she wears at her girdle, a mantle, which is of all
colors that man ever saw or heard of, and is worked with every manner of
beast, fowl, and strange fish. The king's promise obliges him to make
all the court ladies don the mantle, she to have it whom it perfectly
fits. More than two hundred try, and there is no absolute fit.[220] But
Iblis, Lanzelet's wife, is not present: she is languishing on account of
his absence on a dangerous adventure. She is sent for, and by general
agreement the mantle is, on her, the best-fitting garment woman ever
wore. Ed. Hahn, vv 5746-6135.
The adventure of the Mantle is very briefly reported to Gawain, when on
his way with Ydain to Arthur, by a youth who had just come from the
court, in terms entirely according with the French fabliau, in Messire
Gauvain, ou La Vengeance de Raguidel, by the trouvère Raoul, ed.
Hippeau, p. 135 ff, vv 3906-55, and in the Dutch Lancelot, ed.
Jonckbloet, Part II, p. 85, vv 12,500-527, poems of the thirteenth
century. The one lady whom the mantle fits is in the latter Carados
vrindinne, in the other l'amie Caraduel Briefbras.
The Scalachronica, by Sir Thomas Gray of Heton, a chronicle of England
and Scotland, 1066-1362, begun in 1355, gives the analysis of many
romances, and that of the adventure of the Mantle in this form. There
was sent to Arthur's court the mantle of Karodes, which was of such
virtue that it would fit no woman who was not willing that her husband
should know both her act and her thought.[221] This was the occasion of
much mirth, for the mantle was either too short, or too long, or too
tight, for all the ladies except Karodes' wife. And it was said that
this mantle was sent by the father of Karodes, a magician, to prove the
goodness of his son's wife.[222]
Two fifteenth-century German versions of the Mantle story give it a
shape of their own. In Fastnachtspiele aus dem fünfzehnten Jahrhundert,
II, 665, No 81, 'Der Luneten Mantel,' the amiable Lunet, so well and
favorably known in romances, takes the place of the English boy and
French varlet. The story has the usual course. The mantle is
unsuccessfully tried by Arthur's queen, by the wife of the Greek
emperor, and by the queen of Lorraine. The king of Spain, who announces
himself as _the oldest man_ present, is willing to excuse his wife, who
is the youngest of the royal ladies. She says, If we lack lands and
gold, "so sei wir doch an eren reich," offers herself to the test with
the fearlessness of innocence, and comes off clear, to the delight of
her aged spouse. A meistergesang, Bruns, Beiträge zur kritischen
Bearbeitung alter Handschriften, p. 143,[223] 'Lanethen Mantel,' again
awards the prize to the young wife of a very old knight. Laneth, a clean
maid, who is Arthur's niece, having made herself poor by her bounty, is
cast off by her uncle's wife and accused of loose behavior. She makes
her trouble known to a dwarf, a good friend of her father's, and
receives from him a mantle to take to Arthur's court: if anybody huffs
her, she is to put it to use. The queen opens upon Laneth, as soon as
she appears, with language not unlike that which she employs of
Cradock's wife in stanzas 33, 34 of the ballad. The mantle is offered to
any lady that it will fit. In front it comes to the queen's knee, and it
drags on the ground behind. Three hundred and fifty knights' ladies fare
as ill as the sovereign.[224]
The Dean of Lismore's collection of Gaelic poetry, made in the early
part of the sixteenth century, contains a ballad, obscure in places, but
clearly presenting the outlines of the English ballad or French
fabliau.[225] Finn, Diarmaid, and four other heroes are drinking, with
their six wives. The women take too much, and fall to boasting of their
chastity. While they are so engaged, a maid approaches who is clad in a
seamless robe of pure white. She sits down by Finn, and he asks her what
is the virtue of the garment. She replies that her seamless robe will
completely cover none but the spotless wife. Conan, a sort of Kay, says,
Give it to my wife at once, that we may learn the truth of what they
have been saying. The robe shrinks into folds, and Conan is so angry
that he seizes his spear and kills his wife.[226] Diarmaid's wife tries,
and the robe clings about her hair; Oscar's, and it does not reach to
her middle; Maighinis, Finn's wife, and it folds around her ears.
MacRea's wife only is completely covered. The 'daughter of Deirg,'
certainly a wife of Finn, and here seemingly to be identified with
Maighinis, claims the robe: she has done nothing to be ashamed of; she
has erred only with Finn. Finn curses her and womankind, "because of her
who came that day."