that 'El Conde Sol' shows distinct traits of 'Le Chat Botté.' Similar
questions are asked in English #G#, the other Spanish versions, and the
Italian, and in nearly all the Greek ballads referred to on pp 199, 200;
always under the same circumstances, and to bring about the discovery
which gives the turn to the story. The questions in 'Le Chat Botté' are
introduced for an entirely different purpose, and cannot rationally
suggest a borrowing on either side. The hasty note would certainly have
been erased by the very distinguished editors upon a moment's
consideration.
[425] Puymaigre finds also some resemblance in his 'Petite Rosalie,' I,
74: see his note.
ADDITIONS AND CORRECTIONS
1. Riddles Wisely Expounded.
P. 1 b. #A.# Add: Mündel, Elsässische Volkslieder, p. 27, No 24. Second
line from the bottom, for seven read ten.
2 a. Add: #H.# J. H. Schmitz, Sitten u. s. w. des Eifler Volkes, I, 159;
five pairs of riddles and no conclusion. (Köhler.) #I.# Alfred Müller,
Volkslieder aus dem Erzgebirge, p. 69; four pairs of riddles, and no
conclusion. #J.# Lemke, Volksthümliches in Ostpreussen, p. 152; seven
riddles guessed, "nun bin ich Deine Frau."
2 b. (The Russian riddle-ballad.) So a Kosak: "I give thee this riddle:
if thou guess it, thou shalt be mine; if thou guess it not, ill shall it
go with thee." The riddle, seven-fold, is guessed. Metlinskiy, Narodnyya
yuzhnorusskiya Pyesni, pp 363 f. Cf. Snegiref, Russkie prostonarodnye
Prazdniki, II, 101 f.
2 b, note. For Kaden substitute Casetti e Imbriani, C. p. delle
Provincie meridionali, I, 197 f. (Köhler.)
2. The Elfin Knight.
#P.# 6 b. #J.# Read: Central New York; and again in #J#, p. 19 a. Add:
#M.# Notes and Queries, 4th Series, III, 605.
7 a, note. Another ballad with a burden-stem is a version of
'Klosterrovet,' #C#, MSS of 1610, and later, communicated to me by Svend
Grundtvig.
7 b. Add: #O.# 'Ehestandsaussichten' [Norrenberg], Des Dülkener Fiedlers
Liederbuch, 1875, p. 88, No 99. (Köhler.)
8-12. Jagić, in Archiv für slavische Philologie, 'Aus dem
südslavischen Märchenschatz,' V, 47-50, adds five Slavic stories of the
wench whose ready wit helps her to a good marriage, and Köhler, in notes
to Jagić, pp 50 ff, cites, in addition to nearly all those which I
have mentioned, one Slavic, one German, five Italian, one French, one
Irish, one Norwegian, besides very numerous tales in which there is a
partial agreement. Wollner, in Leskien and Brugman's Litauische
Volkslieder und Märchen, p. 573, cites Slavic parallels to No 34, of
which the following, not previously noted, and no doubt others, are
apposite to this ballad: Afanasief, VI, 177, No 42, a, b; Trudy, II,
611-614, No 84, 614-616, No 85; Dragomanof, p. 347, No 29; Sadok Baracz,
p. 33; Kolberg, Lud, VIII, 206; Kulda, II, 68.
14 a, line 4. The Baba-Yaga, a malignant female spirit, has the ways of
the Rusalka and the Vila, and so the Wendish Pšezpolnica, the
'Mittagsfrau,' and the Serpolnica: Afanasief, II, 333; Veckenstedt,
Wendische Sagen, p. 107, No 14, p. 108 f, No 19, p. 109 f, No 4. The Red
Etin puts questions, too, in the Scottish tale, Chambers, Popular
Rhymes, 1870, p. 92. There is certainly no occasion to scruple about elf
or elf-knight. Line 16 f. The same in Snegiref, IV. 8.
14 b. For the legend of St Andrew, etc., see, further, Gering, Íslendzk
Æventyri, I, 95, No 24, 'Af biskupi ok puka,' and Köhler's references,
II, 80 f. (Köhler.)
15 a. #A, B.# Dr Davidson informs me that the introductory stanza, or
burden-stem, exists in the form:
Her plaidie awa, her plaidie awa,
The win blew the bonnie lassie's plaidie awa.
16 a. #C.# This version is in Kinloch MSS, VII, 163. _3 is wanting._
6.
Married ye sall never get nane
Till ye mak a shirt without a seam.
7.
And ye maun sew it seamless,
And ye maun do it wi needle, threedless.
10. _wanting._
12^1. I hae a bit o land to be corn.
_14 is wanting._
16. loof--glove.
17 _is wanting_.
3, 10, 14, 17, are evidently supplied from some form of #B#.
20.
M
Similar to #F-H#: Notes and Queries, 4th Series, III, 605,
communicated by W. F., Glasgow, from a manuscript
collection.
1
As I went up to the top o yon hill,
Every rose springs merry in' t' time
I met a fair maid, an her name it was Nell.
An she langed to be a true lover o mine
2
'Ye'll get to me a cambric sark,
An sew it all over without thread or needle.
Before that ye be, etc.
3
'Ye'll wash it doun in yonder well,
Where water neer ran an dew never fell.
4
'Ye'll bleach it doun by yonder green,
Where grass never grew an wind never blew.
5
'Ye'll dry it doun on yonder thorn,
That never bore blossom sin Adam was born.'
6
'Four questions ye have asked at me,
An as mony mair ye'll answer me.
7
'Ye'll get to me an acre o land
Atween the saut water an the sea sand.
8
'Ye'll plow it wi a ram's horn,
An sow it all over wi one peppercorn.
9
'Ye'll shear it wi a peacock's feather,
An bind it all up wi the sting o an adder.
10
'Ye'll stook it in yonder saut sea,
An bring the dry sheaves a' back to me.
11
'An when ye've done and finished your wark,
Ye'll come to me, an ye'se get your sark.'
An then shall ye be true lover o mine
3. The Fause Knight upon the Road.
#P.# 20 a. Add: #C.# 'The False Knight,' communicated by Mr Macmath, of
Edinburgh.
For the fool getting the last word of the princess, see, further,
Köhler, Germania, XIV, 271; Leskien u. Brugman, Litauische Volkslieder
u. Märchen, p. 469, No 33, and Wollner's note, p. 573.
21, note. I must retract the doubly hasty remark that the Shetland
belief that witches may be baffled by fliting with them is a modern
misunderstanding.
Mr George Lyman Kittredge has called my attention to Apollonius of
Tyana's encounter with an _empusa_ between the Caucasus and the Indus.
Knowing what the spectre was, Apollonius began to revile it, and told
his attendants to do the same, for that was the resource, in such cases,
against an attack. The empusa went off with a shriek. Philostratus's
Life of Apollonius, II, 4. Mr Kittredge referred me later to what is
said by Col. Yule (who also cites Philostratus), Marco Polo, I, 183,
that the wise, according to Mas'udi, revile ghúls, and the ghúls vanish.
Mr Kittredge also cites Luther's experience: how, when he could not be
rid of the Devil by the use of holy writ and serious words, "so hätte er
ihn oft mit spitzigen Worten und lächerlichen Possen vertrieben; ...
quia est superbus spiritus, et non potest ferre contemptum sui."
Tischreden, in Auswahl, Berlin, 1877, pp 152-154.
Sprites of the more respectable orders will quit the company of men if
scolded: Walter Mapes, De Nugis Curialium, ed. Wright, p. 81, Alpenburg,
Deutsche Alpensagen, p. 312, No 330. So Thetis, according to Sophocles,
left Peleus when he reviled her: Scholia in Apollonii Argonautica, IV,
816. (Mannhardt, Wald- und Feldkulte, II, 60, 68.) 22.
C
Obtained by Mr Macmath from the recitation of his aunt,
Miss Jane Webster, formerly of Airds of Kells, Stewartry
of Kirkcudbright, Galloway, who learned it many years ago
from the wife of Peter McGuire, then cotman at Airds.
1
'O whare are ye gaun?'
Says the false knight upon the road:
'I am gaun to the schule,'
Says the wee boy, and still he stood.
2
'Wha's aught the sheep on yonder hill?'
'They are my papa's and mine.'
3
'How many of them's mine?'
'A' them that has blue tails.'
4
'I wish you were in yonder well:'
'And you were down in hell.'
4. Lady Isabel and the Elf-Knight.
#P.# 22 b. #D.# Add: #d.# 'The historical ballad of May Culzean,' an
undated stall-copy.
26 b. Another Dutch version (Frisian), spirited, but with gaps, is given
by Dykstra and van der Meulen, In Doaze fol alde Snypsnaren, Frjentsjer,
1882, p. 118, 'Jan Alberts,' 66 vv. (Köhler.)
#D.# Jan Alberts sings a song, and those that hear it know it not. It is
heard by a king's daughter, who asks her mother's leave to go out for a
walk, and is told that it is all one where she goes or stays, if she
keeps her honor. Her father says the same, when she applies for his
leave. She goes to her bedroom and dresses herself finely, dons a gold
crown, puts her head out of the window, and cries, Now am I Jan Alberts'
bride. Jan Alberts takes her on his horse; they ride fast and long, with
nothing to eat or drink for three days. She then asks Jan why he gives
her nothing, and he answers that he shall ride to the high tree where
hang fourteen fair maids. Arrived there, he gives her the choice of
tree, sword, or water. She chooses the sword, bids him spare his coat,
for a pure maid's blood goes far, and before his coat is half off his
head lies behind him. The head cries, Behind the bush is a pot of
grease; smear my neck with it. She will not smear from a murderer's pot,
nor blow in a murderer's horn. She mounts his horse, and rides far and
long. Jan Alberts' mother comes to meet her, and asks after him. She
says he is not far off, and is sporting with fourteen maids. Had you
told me this before, I would have laid you in the water, says the
mother. The maid rides on till she comes to her father's gate. Then she
cries to her father to open, for his youngest daughter is without. The
father not bestirring himself, she swims the moat, and, the door not
being open, goes through the glass. The next day she dries her clothes.
30 a, 37 a. There is a Low German version of the first class, #A-F#, in
Spee, Volksthümliches vom Niederrhein, Köln, 1875, Zweites Heft, p. 3,
'Schöndili,' 50 vv. (Köhler.)
#AA.# Schöndili's parents died when she was a child. Schön-Albert,
knowing this, rides to her. She attires herself in silk, with a gold
crown on her hair, and he swings her on to his horse. They ride three
days and nights, with nothing to eat or drink. She asks whether it is
not meal-time; he replies that they are coming to a linden, where they
will eat and drink. Seven women are hanging on the tree. He gives her
the wale of tree, river, and sword. She chooses the sword; would be
loath to spot his coat; whips off his head before the coat is half off.
The head says there is a pipe in the saddle; she thinks no good can come
of playing a murderer's pipe. She meets first the father, then the
mother; they think that must be Schön-Albert's horse. That may be, she
says; I have not seen him since yesterday. She sets the pipe to her
mouth, when she reaches her father's gate, and the murderers come like
hares on the wind.
#BB.# Alfred Müller, Volkslieder aus dem Erzgebirge, p. 92, 'Schön
Ulrich' [und Trautendelein], 36 vv. (Köhler.) Like #T#, without the
song.
#CC.# A. Schlosser, Deutsche Volkslieder aus Steiermark, 1881, p. 338,
No 309, 'Der Ritter und die Maid.' (Köhler: not yet seen by me.)
#DD.# Curt Mündel, Elsässische Volkslieder, p. 12, No 10, a fragment of
fifteen verses. As Anna sits by the Rhine combing her hair, Heinrich
comes along on his horse, sees her weep, and asks why. It is not for
gold and not for goods, but because she is to die that day. Heinrich
draws his sword, runs her through, and rides home. He is asked why his
sword is red, and says he has killed two doves. They say the dove must
be Anna.
32 b. #H#, line 10. Read: umbrunnen.
39 a, line 1. Read: contributed by Hoffmann.
39 a, third paragraph. Kozlowski, Lud, p. 54, No 15, furnishes a second
and inferior but still important form of #A# (Masovian).
#A b.# Ligar (afterwards Jasia, Golo) bids Kasia take all she has. She
has already done this, and is ready to range the world with him.
Suddenly she asks, after they have been some time on their way, What is
that yonder so green? Jasia replies, Our house, to which we are going.
They go on further, and Kasia again inquires abruptly, What is that
yonder so white? "That is my eight wives, and you shall be the ninth:
you are to die, and will be the tenth." "Where is the gold, the maidens'
gold?" "In the linden, Kasia, in the linden; plenty of it." "Let me not
die so wretchedly; let me draw your sword for once." She drew the sword,
and with one stroke Jasia's head was off.
39 b. To the Polish versions are further to be added: #NN#, Piosnki
wieśniacze znad Dzwiny, p. 41, No 51; #OO#, Roger, p. 78, No 138;
#PP#, Roger, p. 69, No 125; #QQ#, ib., p. 79, No 140; #RR#, p. 81, No
142; #SS#, p. 79, No 139. The last three are imperfect, and #QQ#, #RR#,
have a beginning which belongs elsewhere. Jasia suggests to Kasia to get
the key of the new room from her mother by pretending headache, and bids
her take gold enough, #NN#, #OO#. They go off while her mother thinks
that Kasia is sleeping, #NN#, #OO#, #QQ#. They come to a wood, #NN#,
#PP# (which is corrupt here), #SS#; first or last, to a deep stream,
#NN#, #OO#, #QQ#, #SS#; it is red sea in #RR#, as in #J#. Jasia bids
Kasia return to her mother, #NN# (twice), #RR#; bids her take off her
rich clothes, #OO#, to which she answers that she has not come here for
that. John throws her into the water, #NN#, #OO#, #QQ#, #SS#, from a
bridge in the second and third. Her apron catches on a stake or post;
she begs John for help, and gets for answer, "I did not throw you in to
help you: you may go to the bottom," #OO#. She swims to a stake, to
which she clings, and John hews her in three, #QQ#. Fishermen draw out
the body, and carry it to the church, #NN#, #OO#. She apostrophizes her
hair in #QQ#, #SS#, as in #G#, #I#, #J#, and in the same absurd terms in
#QQ# as in #J#. John is pursued and cut to pieces in #OO#, _also_ broken
on the wheel. #PP# closely resembles German ballads of the third class.
Katie shouts three times: at her first cry the grass curls up; at the
second the river overflows; the third wakes her mother, who rouses her
sons, saying, Katie is calling in the wood. They find John with a bloody
sword; he says he has killed a dove. They answer, No dove, but our
sister, and maltreat him till he tells what he has done with his victim:
"I have hidden her under the yew-bush; now put me on the wheel."
39 b, line 13 of the middle paragraph. Read Piosnki for Piesni, and omit
the quotation marks in this and the line before.
40 b, line 2 (the girl's adding her hair to lengthen the cord). In the
tale of the Sea-horse, Schiefner, Awarische Texte, Memoirs of the St
Petersburg Academy, vol. XIX, No 6, p. 11 f, a sixty-ell rope being
required to rescue a prince from a well into which he had been thrown,
and no rope forthcoming, the daughter of a sea-king makes a rope of the
required length with her hair, and with this the prince is drawn out. Dr
Reinhold Köhler, who pointed out this incident to me, refers in his
notes to the texts, at p. vii f, to the song of Südäi Märgän, Radloff,
II, 627-31, where Südäi Märgän's wife, having to rescue her husband from
a pit, tries first his horse's tail, and finds it too short, then her
hair, which proves also a little short. A maid is then found whose hair
is a hundred fathoms long, and her hair being tied on to the horse's
tail, and horse, wife, and maid pulling together, the hero is drawn out.
For climbing up by a maid's hair, see, further, Köhler's note to
Gonzenbach, No 53, II, 236.
40 b, line 7. A message is sent to a father by a daughter in the same
way, in Chodzko, Les Chants historiques de l'Ukraine, p. 75; cf. p. 92,
of the same. Tristram sends messages to Isonde by linden shavings
inscribed with runes: Sir Tristrem, ed. Kölbing, p. 56, st. 187;
Tristrams Saga, cap. 54, p. 68, ed. Kölbing; Gottfried von Strassburg,
vv 14427-441.
40 b, line 36. For #G#, #I#, read #G#, #J#.
40, note [61]. In a Ruthenian ballad a girl who runs away from her
mother with a lover tells her brothers, who have come in search of her,
I did not leave home to go back again with you: Golovatsky, Part I, p.
77, No 32; Part III, I, p. 17, No 4, p. 18, No 5. So, "I have not
poisoned you to help you," Part I, p. 206, No 32, p. 207, No 33.
41 a, second paragraph. Golovatsky, at I, 116, No 29, has a ballad,
found elsewhere without the feature here to be noticed, in which a
Cossack, who is watering his horse while a maid is drawing water,
describes his home as a Wonderland, like John in Polish #Q#. "Come to
the Ukraine with the Cossacks," he says. "Our land is not like this:
with us the mountains are golden, the water is mead, the grass is silk;
with us the willows bear pears and the girls go in gold." She yields;
they go over one mountain and another, and when they have crossed the
third the Cossack lets his horse graze. The maid falls to weeping, and
asks the Cossack, Where are your golden mountains, where the water that
is mead, the grass that is silk? He answers, No girl of sense and reason
engages herself to a young Cossack. So in Zegota Pauli, P. l. ruskiego,
p. 29, No 26==Golovatsky, I, 117, No 30, where the maid rejoins to the
glowing description, I have ranged the world: golden mountains I never
saw; everywhere mountains are of stone, and everywhere rivers are of
water; very like the girl in Grundtvig, 82 #B#, st. 7; 183 #A# 6, #E# 5,
6.
41 b, last paragraph. Several Bohemian versions are to be added to the
single example cited from Waldau's Böhmische Granaten. This version,
which is presumed to have been taken down by Waldau himself, may be
distinguished as #A#. #B#, Sušil, Moravské Národní Písně, No 189,
p. 191, 'Vrah,' 'The Murderer,' is very like #A#. #C#, Sušil, p. 193.
#D#, Erben, Prostonárodni české Písně a Říkadla, p. 480, No 16,
'Zabité děvče,' 'The Murdered Maid.' #E#, p. 479, No 15, 'Zabitá
sestra,' 'The Murdered Sister.' #B# has a double set of names, beginning
with Black George,--not the Servian, but "king of Hungary,"--and ending
with Indriasch. The maid is once called Annie, otherwise Katie. At her
first call the grass becomes green; at the second the mountain bows; the
third the mother hears. #C# has marvels of its own. Anna entreats John
to allow her to call to her mother. "Call, call," he says, "you will not
reach her with your call; in this dark wood, even the birds will not
hear you." At her first call a pine-tree in the forest breaks; at the
second the river overflows; at the third her mother rises from the
grave. She calls to her sons to go to Anna's rescue, and _they_ rise
from their graves. The miscreant John confesses that he has buried their
sister in the wood. They strike off his head, and put a bat on the head,
with an inscription in gold letters, to inform people what his offence
has been. There is a gap after the seventh stanza of #D#, which leaves
the two following stanzas unintelligible by themselves: 8, Choose one of
the two, and trust nobody; 9, She made her choice, and shouted three
times towards the mountains. At the first cry the mountain became green;
at the second the mountain bowed backwards; the third the mother heard.
She sent her sons off; they found their neighbor John, who had cut off
their sister's head. The law-abiding, and therefore modern, young men
say that John shall go to prison and never come out alive. In #E# the
man, a young hunter, says, Call _five_ times; not even a wood-bird will
hear you. Nothing is said of the first call; the second is heard by the
younger brother, who tells the elder that their sister must be in
trouble. The hunter has a bloody rifle in his hand: how he is disposed
of we are not told. All these ballads but #C# begin with the maid
cutting grass, and all of them have the dove that is "no dove, but our
sister."
Fragments of this ballad are found, #F#, in Sušil, p. 112, No 113,
'Nevěsta nešt' astnice,' 'The Unhappy Bride;' #G#, p. 171, No 171,
'Zbojce,' 'The Murderer;' and there is a variation from #B# at p. 192,
note 3, which is worth remarking, #H#. #F#, sts 11-14: "Get together
what belongs to you; we will go to a foreign land;" and when they came
to the turf, "Look my head through."[426] Every hair she laid aside she
wet with a tear. And when they came into the dark of the wood he cut her
into nine [three] pieces. #G.# Katie meets John in a meadow; they sit
down on the grass. "Look my head through." She weeps, for she says there
is a black fate impending over her; "a black one for me, a red one for
thee." He gets angry, cuts off her head, and throws her into the river,
for which he is hanged. #H.# He sprang from his horse, robbed the maid,
and laughed. He set her on the grass, and bade her look his head
through. Every hair she examined she dropped a tear for. "Why do you
weep, Katie? Is it for your crants?" "I am _not_ weeping for my crants,
nor am I afraid of your sword. Let me call three times, that my father
and mother may hear." Compare German #H# 10, 11; #Q# 8-10, etc., etc.
42 a. These Ruthenian ballads belong with the other Slavic parallels to
No 4: #A#, Zegota Pauli, P. l. ruskiego, p. 21==Golovatsky, III, I, 149,
No 21; #B#, Golovatsky, III, I, 172, No 46. #A.# A man induces a girl to
go off with him in the night. They wander over one land and another, and
then feel need of rest. Why does your head ache? he asks of her. Are you
homesick? "My head does not ache; I am not homesick." He takes her by
the white sides and throws her into the deep Donau, saying, Swim with
the stream; we shall not live together. She swims over the yellow sand,
crying, Was I not fair, or was it my fate? and he dryly answers, Fair;
it was thy fate. In #B# it is a Jew's daughter that is wiled away. They
go in one wagon; another is laden with boxes [of valuables?] and
pillows, a third with gold pennies. She asks, Where is your house? Over
those hills, he answers. He takes her over a high bridge, and throws her
into the Donau, with, Swim, since you were not acquainted with our way,
our faith!
42 a. #A#, line 2. Read: Puymaigre.
43 a. #D.# Add: Poésies populaires de la France, IV, fol. 332, Chanson
de l'Aunis, Charente Inférieur; but even more of the story is lost.
44 a. A ballad in Casetti e Imbriani, C. p. delle Provincie meridionali,
II, 1, begins like 'La Contadina alla Fonte' (see p. 393 a), and ends
like 'La Monferrina Incontaminata.' Of the same class as the last is, I
suppose, Nannarelli, Studio comparativo sui Canti popolari di Arlena, p.
51, No 50 (Köhler), which I regret not yet to have seen.
45 a. Portuguese #C, D#, in Alvaro Rodrigues de Azevedo, Romanceiro do
Archipelago da Madeira, p. 57, 'Estoria do Bravo-Franco,' p. 60,
'Gallo-frango.'
47. A story from Neumünster about one Görtmicheel, a famous robber, in
Müllenhoff, p. 37, No 2, blends features of 'Hind Etin,' or 'The Maid
and the Dwarf-King,' No 41, with others found in the Magyar ballad, p.
45 f. A handsome wench, who had been lost seven years, suddenly
reappeared at the home of her parents. She said that she was not at
liberty to explain where she had been, but her mother induced her to
reveal this to a stone near the side-door, and taking up her station
behind the door heard all. She had been carried off by a robber; had
lived with him seven years, and borne him seven children. The robber,
who had otherwise treated her well, had refused to let her visit her
home, but finally had granted her this permission upon her promising to
say nothing about him. When the time arrived for her daughter to go
back, the mother gave her a bag of peas, which she was to drop one by
one along the way. She was kindly received, but presently the robber
thought there was something strange in her ways. He laid his head in her
lap, inviting her to perform the service so common in like cases. While
she was doing this, she could not but think how the robber had loved her
and how he was about to be betrayed by her, and her remorseful tears
dropped on his face. "So you have told of me!" cried the astute robber,
springing up. He cut off the children's heads and strung them on a
willow-twig before her eyes, and was now coming to her, when people
arrived, under the mother's conduct, who put a stop to his further
revenge, and took their own. See the note, Müllenhoff, p. 592 f.
57 a. #D.# Insert: #d.# A stall-copy lent me by Mrs Alexander Forbes,
Liberton, Edinburgh. (See p. 23, note §.)
62 b. Insert after #c#:
#d.#
1^{1,2}.
Have ye not heard of fause Sir John,
Wha livd in the west country?
_After 2 a stanza nearly as in #b.#_
5 _wanting._
6^1. But he's taen a charm frae aff his arm.
6^3. follow him.
7^2. five hundred.
7^3. the bravest horse.
8^1. So merrily.
8^4. Which is called Benan Bay.
9, 11, _wanting._
12^1. Cast aff, cast aff.
12^4. To sink.
13. _Nearly as in #b.#_
14.
'Cast aff thy coats and gay mantle,
And smock o Holland lawn,
For thei'r owre costly and owre guid
To rot in the sea san.'
15.
'Then turn thee round, I pray, Sir John,
See the leaf flee owre the tree,
For it never befitted a book-learned man
A naked lady to see.'
_Sir John being a Dominican friar, according to the historical preface._
16.
As fause Sir John did turn him round,
To see the leaf flee owre the [tree],
She grasped him in her arms sma,
And flung him in the sea.