Childe Waters in his stable stoodeAnd stroakt his milke-white steede;To him a fayre yonge ladye cameAs ever ware womans weede.Sayes, "Christ you save, good Childe Waters,"5Sayes, "Christ you save and see;My girdle of gold that was too longe,Is now too short for mee."And all is with one childe of yoursI feele sturre at my side;10My gowne of greene it is too straighte;Before, it was too wide.""If the childbe mine, faire Ellen," he sayd,"Be mine, as you tell mee,Then take you Cheshire and Lancashire both,15Take them your owne to bee."If the childe be mine, faire Ellen," he sayd,"Be mine, as you doe sweare,Then take you Cheshire and Lancashire both,And make that child your heyre."20Shee sayes, "I had rather have one kisse,Childe Waters, of thy mouth,Than I wolde have Cheshire and Lancashire both,That lye by north and southe."And I had rather have one twinkling,25Childe Waters, of thine ee,Than I wolde have Cheshire and Lancashire both,To take them mine owne to bee.""To morrowe, Ellen, I must forth rydeFarr into the north countree;30The fayrest lady that I can finde,Ellen, must goe with mee.""Thoughe I am not that ladye fayre,Yet let me go with thee:And ever I pray you, Childe Waters,35Your foot-page let me bee.""If you will my foot-page bee, Ellen,As you doe tell to mee,Then you must cut your gowne of greeneAn inch above your knee:40"Soe must you doe your yellowe lockes,An inch above your ee;You must tell no man what is my name;My foot-page then you shall bee."Shee, all the long daye Childe Waters rode,45Ran barefoote by his syde,Yet was he never soe courteous a knighte,To say, "Ellen, will you ryde?"Shee, all the long daye Childe Waters rode,Ran barefoote thorow the broome,50Yett was hee never soe courteous a knighte,To say, "put on your shoone.""Ride softlye," shee sayd, "O Childe Waters:Why doe you ryde so fast?The childe, which is no mans but thine,55My bodye itt will brast."Hee sayth, "seest thou yond water, Ellen,That flows from banke to brimme?""I trust to God, O Childe Waters,You never will see me swimme."60But when shee came to the water side,She sayled to the chinne:"Now the Lord of heaven be my speede,For I must learne to swimme."The salt waters bare up her clothes,65Our Ladye bare up her chinne;Childe Waters was a woe man, good Lord,To see faire Ellen swimme!And when shee over the water was,Shee then came to his knee:70Hee sayd, "Come hither, thou fayre Ellen,Loe yonder what I see."Seest thou not yonder hall, Ellen?Of redd gold shines the yate:Of twenty foure faire ladyes there,75The fairest is my mate."Seest thou not yonder hall, Ellen?Of redd golde shines the towre:There are twenty four fayre ladyes there,The fayrest is my paramoure."80"I see the hall now, Childe Waters,Of redd golde shines the yate:God give you good now of yourselfe,And of your worldlye mate."I see the hall now, Childe Waters,85Of redd golde shines the towre:God give you good now of yourselfe,And of your paramoure."There twenty four fayre ladyes wereA playing at the ball,90And Ellen, the fayrest ladye there,Must bring his steed to the stall.There twenty four fayre ladyes wereA playinge at the chesse,And Ellen, the fayrest ladye there,95Must bring his horse to gresse.And then bespake Childe Waters sister,These were the wordes sayd shee:"You have the prettyest page, brother,That ever I did see;100"But that his bellye it is soe bigge,His girdle stands soe hye;And ever, I pray you, Childe Waters,Let him in my chamber lye.""It is not fit for a little foot-page,105That has run throughe mosse and myre,To lye in the chamber of any ladye,That weares soe riche attyre."It is more meete for a little foot-page,That has run throughe mosse and myre,110To take his supper upon his knee,And lye by the kitchen fyre."Now when they had supped every one,To bedd they tooke theyr waye:He sayd, "Come hither, my little foot-page,115And hearken what I saye."Goe thee downe into yonder towne,And lowe into the streete;The fayrest ladye that thou canst finde,Hyre in mine armes to sleepe;120And take her up in thine armes twaine,For filing of her feete."Ellen is gone into the towne,And lowe into the streete;The fayrest ladye that shee colde finde,125She hyred in his armes to sleepe;And tooke her up in her armes twayne,For filing of her feete."I praye you nowe, good Childe Waters,Let mee lye at your feete;For there is noe place about this house,130Where I may saye a sleepe."He gave her leave, and faire EllenDown at his beds feet laye;This done the nighte drove on apace,135And when it was neare the daye,Hee sayd, "Rise up, my little foot-page,Give my steede corne and haye;And give him nowe the good black oats,To carry mee better awaye."140Up then rose the faire Ellen,And gave his steede corne and hay;And soe shee did the good black oates,To carry him the better awaye.She leaned her back to the manger side,145And grievouslye did groane;She leaned her back to the manger side,And there shee made her moane.And that beheard his mother deare,Shee heard her woefull woe:150Shee sayd, "Rise up, thou Childe Waters,And into thy stable goe."For in thy stable is a ghost,That grievouslye doth grone;Or else some woman laboures with childe,155Shee is so woe-begone."Up then rose Childe Waters soone,And did on his shirte of silke;And then he put on his other clothes,On his bodye as white as milke.160And when he came to the stable dore,Full still there hee did stand,That hee mighte heare his fayre Ellen,Howe shee made her monand.She sayd, "Lullabye, mine own dear childe,165Lullabye, deare childe, deare;I wolde thy father were a kinge,Thy mothere layd on a biere.""Peace nowe," hee sayd, "good, faire Ellen,Bee of good cheere, I praye;170And the bridale and the churchinge botheShall bee upon one daye.
Childe Waters in his stable stoodeAnd stroakt his milke-white steede;To him a fayre yonge ladye cameAs ever ware womans weede.
Sayes, "Christ you save, good Childe Waters,"5Sayes, "Christ you save and see;My girdle of gold that was too longe,Is now too short for mee.
"And all is with one childe of yoursI feele sturre at my side;10My gowne of greene it is too straighte;Before, it was too wide."
"If the childbe mine, faire Ellen," he sayd,"Be mine, as you tell mee,Then take you Cheshire and Lancashire both,15Take them your owne to bee.
"If the childe be mine, faire Ellen," he sayd,"Be mine, as you doe sweare,Then take you Cheshire and Lancashire both,And make that child your heyre."20
Shee sayes, "I had rather have one kisse,Childe Waters, of thy mouth,Than I wolde have Cheshire and Lancashire both,That lye by north and southe.
"And I had rather have one twinkling,25Childe Waters, of thine ee,Than I wolde have Cheshire and Lancashire both,To take them mine owne to bee."
"To morrowe, Ellen, I must forth rydeFarr into the north countree;30The fayrest lady that I can finde,Ellen, must goe with mee."
"Thoughe I am not that ladye fayre,Yet let me go with thee:And ever I pray you, Childe Waters,35Your foot-page let me bee."
"If you will my foot-page bee, Ellen,As you doe tell to mee,Then you must cut your gowne of greeneAn inch above your knee:40
"Soe must you doe your yellowe lockes,An inch above your ee;You must tell no man what is my name;My foot-page then you shall bee."
Shee, all the long daye Childe Waters rode,45Ran barefoote by his syde,Yet was he never soe courteous a knighte,To say, "Ellen, will you ryde?"
Shee, all the long daye Childe Waters rode,Ran barefoote thorow the broome,50Yett was hee never soe courteous a knighte,To say, "put on your shoone."
"Ride softlye," shee sayd, "O Childe Waters:Why doe you ryde so fast?The childe, which is no mans but thine,55My bodye itt will brast."
Hee sayth, "seest thou yond water, Ellen,That flows from banke to brimme?""I trust to God, O Childe Waters,You never will see me swimme."60
But when shee came to the water side,She sayled to the chinne:"Now the Lord of heaven be my speede,For I must learne to swimme."
The salt waters bare up her clothes,65Our Ladye bare up her chinne;Childe Waters was a woe man, good Lord,To see faire Ellen swimme!
And when shee over the water was,Shee then came to his knee:70Hee sayd, "Come hither, thou fayre Ellen,Loe yonder what I see.
"Seest thou not yonder hall, Ellen?Of redd gold shines the yate:Of twenty foure faire ladyes there,75The fairest is my mate.
"Seest thou not yonder hall, Ellen?Of redd golde shines the towre:There are twenty four fayre ladyes there,The fayrest is my paramoure."80
"I see the hall now, Childe Waters,Of redd golde shines the yate:God give you good now of yourselfe,And of your worldlye mate.
"I see the hall now, Childe Waters,85Of redd golde shines the towre:God give you good now of yourselfe,And of your paramoure."
There twenty four fayre ladyes wereA playing at the ball,90And Ellen, the fayrest ladye there,Must bring his steed to the stall.
There twenty four fayre ladyes wereA playinge at the chesse,And Ellen, the fayrest ladye there,95Must bring his horse to gresse.
And then bespake Childe Waters sister,These were the wordes sayd shee:"You have the prettyest page, brother,That ever I did see;100
"But that his bellye it is soe bigge,His girdle stands soe hye;And ever, I pray you, Childe Waters,Let him in my chamber lye."
"It is not fit for a little foot-page,105That has run throughe mosse and myre,To lye in the chamber of any ladye,That weares soe riche attyre.
"It is more meete for a little foot-page,That has run throughe mosse and myre,110To take his supper upon his knee,And lye by the kitchen fyre."
Now when they had supped every one,To bedd they tooke theyr waye:He sayd, "Come hither, my little foot-page,115And hearken what I saye.
"Goe thee downe into yonder towne,And lowe into the streete;The fayrest ladye that thou canst finde,Hyre in mine armes to sleepe;120And take her up in thine armes twaine,For filing of her feete."
Ellen is gone into the towne,And lowe into the streete;The fayrest ladye that shee colde finde,125She hyred in his armes to sleepe;And tooke her up in her armes twayne,For filing of her feete.
"I praye you nowe, good Childe Waters,Let mee lye at your feete;For there is noe place about this house,130Where I may saye a sleepe."
He gave her leave, and faire EllenDown at his beds feet laye;This done the nighte drove on apace,135And when it was neare the daye,
Hee sayd, "Rise up, my little foot-page,Give my steede corne and haye;And give him nowe the good black oats,To carry mee better awaye."140
Up then rose the faire Ellen,And gave his steede corne and hay;And soe shee did the good black oates,To carry him the better awaye.
She leaned her back to the manger side,145And grievouslye did groane;She leaned her back to the manger side,And there shee made her moane.
And that beheard his mother deare,Shee heard her woefull woe:150Shee sayd, "Rise up, thou Childe Waters,And into thy stable goe.
"For in thy stable is a ghost,That grievouslye doth grone;Or else some woman laboures with childe,155Shee is so woe-begone."
Up then rose Childe Waters soone,And did on his shirte of silke;And then he put on his other clothes,On his bodye as white as milke.160
And when he came to the stable dore,Full still there hee did stand,That hee mighte heare his fayre Ellen,Howe shee made her monand.
She sayd, "Lullabye, mine own dear childe,165Lullabye, deare childe, deare;I wolde thy father were a kinge,Thy mothere layd on a biere."
"Peace nowe," hee sayd, "good, faire Ellen,Bee of good cheere, I praye;170And the bridale and the churchinge botheShall bee upon one daye.
13, MS. be inne.33, 34, supplied by Percy.133, 134, supplied by Percy.150, her woefull woe, Percy!
13, MS. be inne.
33, 34, supplied by Percy.
133, 134, supplied by Percy.
150, her woefull woe, Percy!
Printed from Mrs. Brown's recitation, in Jamieson'sPopular Ballads, i. 117. We have restored the text by omitting some interpolations of the editor, and three concluding stanzas by the same, which, contrary to all authority, gave a tragic turn to the story.
Lord John stood in his stable door,Said he was boun to ride;Burd Ellen stood in her bower door,Said she'd rin by his side.He's pitten on his cork-heel'd shoon,5And fast awa rade he;She's clad hersel in page array,And after him ran she:Till they came till a wan water,And folks do call it Clyde;10Then he's lookit o'er his left shoulder,Says, "Lady, will ye ride?""O I learnt it wi' my bower woman,And I learnt it for my weal,Whanever I cam to wan water,15To swim like ony eel."But the firsten stap the lady stappit,The water came till her knee;"Ochon, alas!" said the lady,"This water's o'er deep for me."20The nexten stap the lady stappit,The water came till her middle;And sighin says that gay lady,"I've wat my gouden girdle."The thirden stap the lady stappit,25The water came till her pap;And the bairn that was in her twa sidesFor cauld began to quake."Lie still, lie still, my ain dear babe;Ye work your mother wae:30Your father rides on high horse back,Cares little for us twae."O about the midst o' Clyde's waterThere was a yeard-fast stane;He lightly turn'd his horse about,35And took her on him behin."O tell me this now, good lord John,And a word ye dinna lie,How far it is to your lodgin,Whare we this night maun be?"40"O see na ye yon castell, Ellen,That shines sae fair to see?There is a lady in it, Ellen,Will sinder you and me."There is a lady in that castell45Will sinder you and I"—"Betide me weal, betide me wae,I sall gang there and try.""My dogs shall eat the good white bread,And ye shall eat the bran;50Then will ye sigh, and say, alas!That ever I was a man!""O I shall eat the good white bread,And your dogs shall eat the bran;And I hope to live to bless the day,55That ever ye was a man.""O my horse shall eat the good white meal,And ye sall eat the corn;Then will ye curse the heavy hourThat ever your love was born."60["O I shall eat the good white meal,And your horse shall eat the corn;]I ay sall bless the happy hourThat ever my love was born."O four and twenty gay ladies65Welcom'd lord John to the ha',But a fairer lady than them a'Led his horse to the stable sta.'O four and twenty gay ladiesWelcom'd lord John to the green;70But a fairer lady than them a'At the manger stood alane.When bells were rung, and mass was sung,And a' men boun to meat,Burd Ellen was at the bye-table75Amang the pages set."O eat and drink, my bonny boy,The white bread and the beer."—"The never a bit can I eat or drink,My heart's sae fu' o' fear."80"O eat and drink, my bonny boy,The white bread and the wine."—"O how sall I eat or drink, master,Wi' heart sae fu' o' pine?"But out and spak lord John's mother,85And a wise woman was she:"Whare met ye wi' that bonny boy,That looks sae sad on thee?Sometimes his cheek is rosy red,And sometimes deadly wan;90He's liker a woman big wi' bairn,Than a young lord's serving man.""O it makes me laugh, my mother dear,Sic words to hear frae thee;He is a squire's ae dearest son,95That for love has followed me."Rise up, rise up, my bonny boy,Gi'e my horse corn and hay."—"O that I will, my master dear,As quickly as I may."100She's ta'en the hay under her arm,The corn intill her hand,And she's gane to the great stable,As fast as e'er she can."O room ye round, my bonny brown steeds,105O room ye near the wa';For the pain that strikes me through my sidesFull soon will gar me fa'."She lean'd her back against the wa';Strong travel came her on;110And e'en amang the great horse feetBurd Ellen brought forth her son.Lord Johnis mither intill her bowerWas sitting all alane,When, in the silence o' the nicht,115She heard Burd Ellen's mane."Won up, won up, my son," she says,"Gae see how a' does fare;For I think I hear a woman's groans,And a bairnie greetin' sair."120O hastily he gat him up,Staid neither for hose nor shoon,And he's doen him to the stable doorWi' the clear light o' the moon.He strack the door hard wi' his foot,125Sae has he wi' his knee,And iron locks and iron barsInto the floor flung he:"Be not afraid, Burd Ellen," he says,"There's nane come in but me.130"Tak up, tak up my bonny young son;Gar wash him wi' the milk;Tak up, tak up my fair lady,Gar row her in the silk."And cheer thee up, Burd Ellen," he says,135"Look nae mair sad nor wae;For your marriage and your kirkin tooSall baith be in ae day."
Lord John stood in his stable door,Said he was boun to ride;Burd Ellen stood in her bower door,Said she'd rin by his side.
He's pitten on his cork-heel'd shoon,5And fast awa rade he;She's clad hersel in page array,And after him ran she:
Till they came till a wan water,And folks do call it Clyde;10Then he's lookit o'er his left shoulder,Says, "Lady, will ye ride?"
"O I learnt it wi' my bower woman,And I learnt it for my weal,Whanever I cam to wan water,15To swim like ony eel."
But the firsten stap the lady stappit,The water came till her knee;"Ochon, alas!" said the lady,"This water's o'er deep for me."20
The nexten stap the lady stappit,The water came till her middle;And sighin says that gay lady,"I've wat my gouden girdle."
The thirden stap the lady stappit,25The water came till her pap;And the bairn that was in her twa sidesFor cauld began to quake.
"Lie still, lie still, my ain dear babe;Ye work your mother wae:30Your father rides on high horse back,Cares little for us twae."
O about the midst o' Clyde's waterThere was a yeard-fast stane;He lightly turn'd his horse about,35And took her on him behin.
"O tell me this now, good lord John,And a word ye dinna lie,How far it is to your lodgin,Whare we this night maun be?"40
"O see na ye yon castell, Ellen,That shines sae fair to see?There is a lady in it, Ellen,Will sinder you and me.
"There is a lady in that castell45Will sinder you and I"—"Betide me weal, betide me wae,I sall gang there and try."
"My dogs shall eat the good white bread,And ye shall eat the bran;50Then will ye sigh, and say, alas!That ever I was a man!"
"O I shall eat the good white bread,And your dogs shall eat the bran;And I hope to live to bless the day,55That ever ye was a man."
"O my horse shall eat the good white meal,And ye sall eat the corn;Then will ye curse the heavy hourThat ever your love was born."60
["O I shall eat the good white meal,And your horse shall eat the corn;]I ay sall bless the happy hourThat ever my love was born."
O four and twenty gay ladies65Welcom'd lord John to the ha',But a fairer lady than them a'Led his horse to the stable sta.'
O four and twenty gay ladiesWelcom'd lord John to the green;70But a fairer lady than them a'At the manger stood alane.
When bells were rung, and mass was sung,And a' men boun to meat,Burd Ellen was at the bye-table75Amang the pages set.
"O eat and drink, my bonny boy,The white bread and the beer."—"The never a bit can I eat or drink,My heart's sae fu' o' fear."80
"O eat and drink, my bonny boy,The white bread and the wine."—"O how sall I eat or drink, master,Wi' heart sae fu' o' pine?"
But out and spak lord John's mother,85And a wise woman was she:"Whare met ye wi' that bonny boy,That looks sae sad on thee?
Sometimes his cheek is rosy red,And sometimes deadly wan;90He's liker a woman big wi' bairn,Than a young lord's serving man."
"O it makes me laugh, my mother dear,Sic words to hear frae thee;He is a squire's ae dearest son,95That for love has followed me.
"Rise up, rise up, my bonny boy,Gi'e my horse corn and hay."—"O that I will, my master dear,As quickly as I may."100
She's ta'en the hay under her arm,The corn intill her hand,And she's gane to the great stable,As fast as e'er she can.
"O room ye round, my bonny brown steeds,105O room ye near the wa';For the pain that strikes me through my sidesFull soon will gar me fa'."
She lean'd her back against the wa';Strong travel came her on;110And e'en amang the great horse feetBurd Ellen brought forth her son.
Lord Johnis mither intill her bowerWas sitting all alane,When, in the silence o' the nicht,115She heard Burd Ellen's mane.
"Won up, won up, my son," she says,"Gae see how a' does fare;For I think I hear a woman's groans,And a bairnie greetin' sair."120
O hastily he gat him up,Staid neither for hose nor shoon,And he's doen him to the stable doorWi' the clear light o' the moon.
He strack the door hard wi' his foot,125Sae has he wi' his knee,And iron locks and iron barsInto the floor flung he:"Be not afraid, Burd Ellen," he says,"There's nane come in but me.130
"Tak up, tak up my bonny young son;Gar wash him wi' the milk;Tak up, tak up my fair lady,Gar row her in the silk.
"And cheer thee up, Burd Ellen," he says,135"Look nae mair sad nor wae;For your marriage and your kirkin tooSall baith be in ae day."
61, 62, according to Jamieson, the same as vv. 54, 55, but here formed on their model, from 57, 58.
61, 62, according to Jamieson, the same as vv. 54, 55, but here formed on their model, from 57, 58.
First published in theMinstrelsy of the Scottish Border, ii. 351,—"from the collation of two copies obtained from recitation."
ErlintonandThe Child of Elleare corrupt varieties ofThe Douglas Tragedy. The passage referred to in vol. ii. p. 114, is remarked on in a note at the end of the ballad.
Erlinton had a fair daughter;I wat he weird her in a great sin,For he has built a bigly bower,An' a' to put that lady in.An' he has warn'd her sisters six,5An' sae has he her brethren se'en,Outher to watch her a' the night,Or else to seek her morn an e'en.She hadna been i' that bigly bower,Na not a night, but barely ane,10Till there was Willie, her ain true love,Chapp'd at the door, cryin', "Peace within!""O whae is this at my bower door,That chaps sae late, or kens the gin?""O it is Willie, your ain true love,15I pray you rise an' let me in!""But in my bower there is a wake,An' at the wake there is a wane;But I'll come to the green-wood the morn,Whar blooms the brier, by mornin' dawn."20Then she's gane to her bed again,Where she has layen till the cock crew thrice,Then she said to her sisters a',"Maidens, 'tis time for us to rise."She pat on her back her silken gown,25An' on her breast a siller pin,An' she's ta'en a sister in ilka hand,An' to the green-wood she is gane.She hadna walk'd in the green-wood,Na not a mile but barely ane,30Till there was Willie, her ain true love,Wha frae her sisters has her ta'en.He took her sisters by the hand,He kiss'd them baith, an' sent them hame,An' he's ta'en his true love him behind,35And through the green-wood they are gane.They hadna ridden in the bonnie green-wood,Na not a mile but barely ane,When there came fifteen o' the boldest knights,That ever bare flesh, blood, or bane.40The foremost was an aged knight,He wore the grey hair on his chin:Says, "Yield to me thy lady bright,An' thou shalt walk the woods within.""For me to yield my lady bright45To such an aged knight as thee,People wad think I war gane mad,Or a' the courage flown frae me."But up then spake the second knight,I wat he spake right boustouslie:50"Yield me thy life, or thy lady bright,Or here the tane of us shall die.""My lady is mywarld's meed;My life I winna yield to nane;But if ye be men of your manhead,55Ye'll only fight me ane by ane."He lighted aff his milk-white steed,An' gae his lady him by the head,Say'n, "See ye dinna change your cheer,Untill ye see my body bleed."60He set his back unto an aik,He set his feet against a stane,An' he has fought these fifteen men,An' kill'd them a' but barely ane;For he has left that aged knight,65An' a' to carry the tidings hame.When he gaed to his lady fair,I wat he kiss'd her tenderlie:"Thou art mine ain love, I have thee bought;Now we shall walk the green-wood free."70
Erlinton had a fair daughter;I wat he weird her in a great sin,For he has built a bigly bower,An' a' to put that lady in.
An' he has warn'd her sisters six,5An' sae has he her brethren se'en,Outher to watch her a' the night,Or else to seek her morn an e'en.
She hadna been i' that bigly bower,Na not a night, but barely ane,10Till there was Willie, her ain true love,Chapp'd at the door, cryin', "Peace within!"
"O whae is this at my bower door,That chaps sae late, or kens the gin?""O it is Willie, your ain true love,15I pray you rise an' let me in!"
"But in my bower there is a wake,An' at the wake there is a wane;But I'll come to the green-wood the morn,Whar blooms the brier, by mornin' dawn."20
Then she's gane to her bed again,Where she has layen till the cock crew thrice,Then she said to her sisters a',"Maidens, 'tis time for us to rise."
She pat on her back her silken gown,25An' on her breast a siller pin,An' she's ta'en a sister in ilka hand,An' to the green-wood she is gane.
She hadna walk'd in the green-wood,Na not a mile but barely ane,30Till there was Willie, her ain true love,Wha frae her sisters has her ta'en.
He took her sisters by the hand,He kiss'd them baith, an' sent them hame,An' he's ta'en his true love him behind,35And through the green-wood they are gane.
They hadna ridden in the bonnie green-wood,Na not a mile but barely ane,When there came fifteen o' the boldest knights,That ever bare flesh, blood, or bane.40
The foremost was an aged knight,He wore the grey hair on his chin:Says, "Yield to me thy lady bright,An' thou shalt walk the woods within."
"For me to yield my lady bright45To such an aged knight as thee,People wad think I war gane mad,Or a' the courage flown frae me."
But up then spake the second knight,I wat he spake right boustouslie:50"Yield me thy life, or thy lady bright,Or here the tane of us shall die."
"My lady is mywarld's meed;My life I winna yield to nane;But if ye be men of your manhead,55Ye'll only fight me ane by ane."
He lighted aff his milk-white steed,An' gae his lady him by the head,Say'n, "See ye dinna change your cheer,Untill ye see my body bleed."60
He set his back unto an aik,He set his feet against a stane,An' he has fought these fifteen men,An' kill'd them a' but barely ane;For he has left that aged knight,65An' a' to carry the tidings hame.
When he gaed to his lady fair,I wat he kiss'd her tenderlie:"Thou art mine ain love, I have thee bought;Now we shall walk the green-wood free."70
53, Should we not readwarld's mate?Noteto v.59, 60."Say'n, 'See ye dinna change your cheer,Untill ye see my body bleed.'"As has been remarked (vol. ii. p. 114),Erlintonretains an important, and even fundamental trait of the older forms of the story, which is not found in any other of the English versions of theDouglas Tragedy. It was a northern superstition that to call a man by name while he was engaged in fight was a fatal omen, and hence a phrase, "to name-to-death." To avert this danger, Ribolt, in nearly all the Scandinavian ballads, entreats Guldborg not topronounce his name, even if she sees him bleeding or struck down. In her agony at seeing the last of her brothers about to be slain, Guldborg forgets her lover's injunction, calls on him by name to stop, and thus brings about the catastrophe. Ignorant reciters have either dropped the corresponding passage in the English ballad, or (as in this case) have so corrupted it, that its significance is only to be made out by comparison with the ancient copies.
53, Should we not readwarld's mate?
Noteto v.59, 60.
"Say'n, 'See ye dinna change your cheer,Untill ye see my body bleed.'"
"Say'n, 'See ye dinna change your cheer,Untill ye see my body bleed.'"
As has been remarked (vol. ii. p. 114),Erlintonretains an important, and even fundamental trait of the older forms of the story, which is not found in any other of the English versions of theDouglas Tragedy. It was a northern superstition that to call a man by name while he was engaged in fight was a fatal omen, and hence a phrase, "to name-to-death." To avert this danger, Ribolt, in nearly all the Scandinavian ballads, entreats Guldborg not topronounce his name, even if she sees him bleeding or struck down. In her agony at seeing the last of her brothers about to be slain, Guldborg forgets her lover's injunction, calls on him by name to stop, and thus brings about the catastrophe. Ignorant reciters have either dropped the corresponding passage in the English ballad, or (as in this case) have so corrupted it, that its significance is only to be made out by comparison with the ancient copies.
"From a fragment in the Editor's folio MS., which, though extremely defective and mutilated, appeared to have so much merit, that it excited a strong desire to attempt the completion of the story. The reader will easily discover the supplemental stanzas by their inferiority, and at the same time be inclined to pardon it, when he considers how difficult it must be to imitate the affecting simplicity and artless beauties of the original."Percy,Reliques, i. 113. (See vol. ii. p. 114.)
It must be acknowledged that this truly modest apology was not altogether uncalled for. So extensive are Percy's alterations and additions, that the reader will have no slight difficulty in detecting the few traces that are left of the genuine composition. Nevertheless, Sir Walter Scott avers that the corrections are "in the true style of Gothic embellishment!"
On yonder hill a castle standes,With walles and towres bedight,And yonder lives the Child of Elle,A younge and comely knighte.The Child of Elle to his garden wente,5And stood at his garden pale,Whan, lo! he beheld fair Emmelines pageCome trippinge downe the dale.The Child of Elle he hyed him thence,Ywis he stoode not stille,10And soone he mette faire Emmelines pageCome climbing up the hille."Nowe Christe thee save, thou little foot-page,Now Christe thee save and see!Oh telle me how does thy ladye gaye,15And what may thy tydinges bee?""My lady shee is all woe-begone,And the teares they falle from her eyne;And aye she laments the deadlye feudeBetweene her house and thine."20"And here shee sends thee a silken scarfe,Bedewde with many a teare,And biddes thee sometimes thinke on her,Who loved thee so deare."And here shee sends thee a ring of golde,25The last boone thou mayst have,And biddes thee weare it for her sake,Whan she is layde in grave."For, ah! her gentle heart is broke,And in grave soone must shee bee,30Sith her father hath chose her a new, new love,And forbidde her to think of thee."Her father hath brought her a carlish knight,Sir John of the north countraye,And within three dayes shee must him wedde,35Or he vowes he will her slaye.""Nowe hye thee backe, thou little foot-page,And greet thy ladye from mee,And telle her that I, her owne true love,Will dye, or sette her free.40"Nowe hye thee backe, thou little foot-page,And let thy fair ladye know,This night will I bee at her bowre-windowe,Betide me weale or woe."The boye he tripped, the boye he ranne,45He neither stint ne stayd,Untill he came to fair Emmelines bowre,Whan kneeling downe he sayd:"O ladye, Ive been with thy own true love,And he greets thee well by mee;50This night will he bee at thy bowre-windowe,And dye or sette thee free."Nowe daye was gone, and night was come,And all were fast asleepe,All save the ladye Emmeline,55Who sate in her bowre to weepe:And soone shee heard her true loves voiceLowe whispering at the walle:"Awake, awake, my deare ladye,Tis I, thy true love, call.60"Awake, awake, my ladye deare,Come, mount this faire palfraye:This ladder of ropes will lette thee downe,Ile carrye thee hence awaye.""Nowe nay, nowe nay, thou gentle knight,65Nowe nay, this may not bee;For aye sould I tint my maiden fame,If alone I should wend with thee.""O ladye, thou with a knight so trueMayst safelye wend alone;70To my ladye mother I will thee bringe,Where marriage shall make us one.""My father he is a baron bolde,Of lynage proude and hye;And what would he saye if his daughter75Awaye with a knight should fly?"Ah! well I wot, he never would rest,Nor his meate should doe him no goode,Till he had slayne thee, Child of Elle,And seene thy deare hearts bloode."80"O ladye, wert thou in thy saddle sette,And a little space him fro,I would not care for thy cruel father,Nor the worst that he could doe."O ladye, wert thou in thy saddle sette,85And once without this walle,I would not care for thy cruel father,Nor the worst that might befalle."Faire Emmeline sighed, faire Emmeline wept,And aye her heart was woe:90At length he seizde her lilly-white hand,And downe the ladder he drewe.And thrice he claspde her to his breste,And kist her tenderlie:The teares that fell from her fair eyes,95Ranne like the fountayne free.Hee mounted himselfe on his steede so talle,And her on a faire palfraye,And slung his bugle about his necke,And roundlye they rode awaye.100All this beheard her owne damselle,In her bed whereas shee ley;Quoth shee, "My lord shall knowe of this,Soe I shall have golde and fee."Awake, awake, thou baron bolde!105Awake, my noble dame!Your daughter is fledde with the Childe of Elle,To doe the deede of shame."The baron he woke, the baron he rose,And called his merrye men all:110"And come thou forth, Sir John the knighte;The ladye is carried to thrall."Fair Emmeline scant had ridden a mile,A mile forth of the towne,When she was aware of her fathers men115Come galloping over the downe.And foremost came the carlish knight,Sir John of the north countraye:"Nowe stop, nowe stop, thou false traitoure,Nor carry that ladye awaye.120"For she is come of hye lynage,And was of a ladye borne,And ill it beseems thee, a false churles sonne,To carrye her hence to scorne.""Nowe loud thou lyest, Sir John the knight,125Nowe thou doest lye of mee;A knight mee gott, and a ladye me bore,Soe never did none by thee."But light nowe downe, my ladye faire,Light downe, and hold my steed,130While I and this discourteous knighteDoe trye this arduous deede."But light now downe, my deare ladye,Light downe, and hold my horse;While I and this discourteous knight135Doe trye our valours force."Fair Emmeline sighde, fair Emmeline wept,And aye her heart was woe,While twixt her love and the carlish knightPast many a baleful blowe.140The Child of Elle hee fought soe well,As his weapon he wavde amaine,That soone he had slaine the carlish knight,And layde him upon the plaine.And nowe the baron, and all his men145Full fast approached nye:Ah! what may ladye Emmeline doe?Twere now no boote to flye.Her lover he put his horne to his mouth,And blew both loud and shrill,150And soone he saw his owne merry menCome ryding over the hill."Nowe hold thy hand, thou bold baron,I pray thee, hold thy hand,Nor ruthless rend two gentle hearts,155Fast knit in true loves band."Thy daughter I have dearly lovdeFull long and many a day;But with such love as holy kirkeHath freelye sayd wee may.160"O give consent shee may be mine,And blesse a faithfull paire;My lands and livings are not small,My house and lynage faire."My mother she was an earles daughter,165And a noble knyght my sire——"The baron he frownde, and turnde awayWith mickle dole and ire.Fair Emmeline sighde, faire Emmeline wept,And did all tremblinge stand;170At lengthe she sprange upon her knee,And held his lifted hand."Pardon, my lorde and father deare,This faire yong knyght and mee:Trust me, but for the carlish knyght,175I never had fled from thee."Oft have you callde your EmmelineYour darling and your joye;O let not then your harsh resolvesYour Emmeline destroye."180The baron he stroakt his dark-brown cheeke,And turnde his heade asyde,To wipe awaye the starting teare,He proudly strave to hyde.In deepe revolving thought he stoode,185And musde a little space;Then raisde faire Emmeline from the grounde,With many a fond embrace."Here take her, Child of Elle," he sayd,And gave her lillye hand;190"Here take my deare and only child,And with her half my land."Thy father once mine honour wrongde,In dayes of youthful pride;Do thou the injurye repayre195In fondnesse for thy bride."And as thou love her and hold her deare,Heaven prosper thee and thine;And nowe my blessing wend wi' thee,My lovelye Emmeline."200
On yonder hill a castle standes,With walles and towres bedight,And yonder lives the Child of Elle,A younge and comely knighte.
The Child of Elle to his garden wente,5And stood at his garden pale,Whan, lo! he beheld fair Emmelines pageCome trippinge downe the dale.
The Child of Elle he hyed him thence,Ywis he stoode not stille,10And soone he mette faire Emmelines pageCome climbing up the hille.
"Nowe Christe thee save, thou little foot-page,Now Christe thee save and see!Oh telle me how does thy ladye gaye,15And what may thy tydinges bee?"
"My lady shee is all woe-begone,And the teares they falle from her eyne;And aye she laments the deadlye feudeBetweene her house and thine."20
"And here shee sends thee a silken scarfe,Bedewde with many a teare,And biddes thee sometimes thinke on her,Who loved thee so deare.
"And here shee sends thee a ring of golde,25The last boone thou mayst have,And biddes thee weare it for her sake,Whan she is layde in grave.
"For, ah! her gentle heart is broke,And in grave soone must shee bee,30Sith her father hath chose her a new, new love,And forbidde her to think of thee.
"Her father hath brought her a carlish knight,Sir John of the north countraye,And within three dayes shee must him wedde,35Or he vowes he will her slaye."
"Nowe hye thee backe, thou little foot-page,And greet thy ladye from mee,And telle her that I, her owne true love,Will dye, or sette her free.40
"Nowe hye thee backe, thou little foot-page,And let thy fair ladye know,This night will I bee at her bowre-windowe,Betide me weale or woe."
The boye he tripped, the boye he ranne,45He neither stint ne stayd,Untill he came to fair Emmelines bowre,Whan kneeling downe he sayd:
"O ladye, Ive been with thy own true love,And he greets thee well by mee;50This night will he bee at thy bowre-windowe,And dye or sette thee free."
Nowe daye was gone, and night was come,And all were fast asleepe,All save the ladye Emmeline,55Who sate in her bowre to weepe:
And soone shee heard her true loves voiceLowe whispering at the walle:"Awake, awake, my deare ladye,Tis I, thy true love, call.60
"Awake, awake, my ladye deare,Come, mount this faire palfraye:This ladder of ropes will lette thee downe,Ile carrye thee hence awaye."
"Nowe nay, nowe nay, thou gentle knight,65Nowe nay, this may not bee;For aye sould I tint my maiden fame,If alone I should wend with thee."
"O ladye, thou with a knight so trueMayst safelye wend alone;70To my ladye mother I will thee bringe,Where marriage shall make us one."
"My father he is a baron bolde,Of lynage proude and hye;And what would he saye if his daughter75Awaye with a knight should fly?
"Ah! well I wot, he never would rest,Nor his meate should doe him no goode,Till he had slayne thee, Child of Elle,And seene thy deare hearts bloode."80
"O ladye, wert thou in thy saddle sette,And a little space him fro,I would not care for thy cruel father,Nor the worst that he could doe.
"O ladye, wert thou in thy saddle sette,85And once without this walle,I would not care for thy cruel father,Nor the worst that might befalle."
Faire Emmeline sighed, faire Emmeline wept,And aye her heart was woe:90At length he seizde her lilly-white hand,And downe the ladder he drewe.
And thrice he claspde her to his breste,And kist her tenderlie:The teares that fell from her fair eyes,95Ranne like the fountayne free.
Hee mounted himselfe on his steede so talle,And her on a faire palfraye,And slung his bugle about his necke,And roundlye they rode awaye.100
All this beheard her owne damselle,In her bed whereas shee ley;Quoth shee, "My lord shall knowe of this,Soe I shall have golde and fee.
"Awake, awake, thou baron bolde!105Awake, my noble dame!Your daughter is fledde with the Childe of Elle,To doe the deede of shame."
The baron he woke, the baron he rose,And called his merrye men all:110"And come thou forth, Sir John the knighte;The ladye is carried to thrall."
Fair Emmeline scant had ridden a mile,A mile forth of the towne,When she was aware of her fathers men115Come galloping over the downe.
And foremost came the carlish knight,Sir John of the north countraye:"Nowe stop, nowe stop, thou false traitoure,Nor carry that ladye awaye.120
"For she is come of hye lynage,And was of a ladye borne,And ill it beseems thee, a false churles sonne,To carrye her hence to scorne."
"Nowe loud thou lyest, Sir John the knight,125Nowe thou doest lye of mee;A knight mee gott, and a ladye me bore,Soe never did none by thee.
"But light nowe downe, my ladye faire,Light downe, and hold my steed,130While I and this discourteous knighteDoe trye this arduous deede.
"But light now downe, my deare ladye,Light downe, and hold my horse;While I and this discourteous knight135Doe trye our valours force."
Fair Emmeline sighde, fair Emmeline wept,And aye her heart was woe,While twixt her love and the carlish knightPast many a baleful blowe.140
The Child of Elle hee fought soe well,As his weapon he wavde amaine,That soone he had slaine the carlish knight,And layde him upon the plaine.
And nowe the baron, and all his men145Full fast approached nye:Ah! what may ladye Emmeline doe?Twere now no boote to flye.
Her lover he put his horne to his mouth,And blew both loud and shrill,150And soone he saw his owne merry menCome ryding over the hill.
"Nowe hold thy hand, thou bold baron,I pray thee, hold thy hand,Nor ruthless rend two gentle hearts,155Fast knit in true loves band.
"Thy daughter I have dearly lovdeFull long and many a day;But with such love as holy kirkeHath freelye sayd wee may.160
"O give consent shee may be mine,And blesse a faithfull paire;My lands and livings are not small,My house and lynage faire.
"My mother she was an earles daughter,165And a noble knyght my sire——"The baron he frownde, and turnde awayWith mickle dole and ire.
Fair Emmeline sighde, faire Emmeline wept,And did all tremblinge stand;170At lengthe she sprange upon her knee,And held his lifted hand.
"Pardon, my lorde and father deare,This faire yong knyght and mee:Trust me, but for the carlish knyght,175I never had fled from thee.
"Oft have you callde your EmmelineYour darling and your joye;O let not then your harsh resolvesYour Emmeline destroye."180
The baron he stroakt his dark-brown cheeke,And turnde his heade asyde,To wipe awaye the starting teare,He proudly strave to hyde.
In deepe revolving thought he stoode,185And musde a little space;Then raisde faire Emmeline from the grounde,With many a fond embrace.
"Here take her, Child of Elle," he sayd,And gave her lillye hand;190"Here take my deare and only child,And with her half my land.
"Thy father once mine honour wrongde,In dayes of youthful pride;Do thou the injurye repayre195In fondnesse for thy bride.
"And as thou love her and hold her deare,Heaven prosper thee and thine;And nowe my blessing wend wi' thee,My lovelye Emmeline."200
Of this very remarkable ballad two copies have been printed in English,Sir Aldingar, from the Percy MS. (Reliques, ii. 53), "with conjectural emendations and the insertion of some additional stanzas," andSir Hugh Le Blond, by Scott, from recitation. The corresponding Danish ballad,Ravengaard og Memering, first published by Grundtvig, is extant in not less than five copies, the oldest derived from a MS. of the middle of the 16th century, the others from recent recitations. With these Grundtvig has given an Icelandic version, from a MS. of the 17th century, another in the dialect of the Faroe Islands, and a third half Danish, half Faroish, both as still sung by the people. The ballad was also preserved, not long ago, in Norway.—Danmarks Gamle Folkeviser, i. 177-213, ii. 640-645.
All these ballads contain a story one and the same in the essential features—a story which occurs repeatedly in connection with historical personages, in Germany, France, Italy, and Spain, as well as England,—and which has also furnished the theme for various modern romances, poems, and tragedies.The connection of the different forms of the legend has been investigated by the Danish editor at considerable length and with signal ability; and we shall endeavor to present the principal results of his wide research in the few pages which our narrow limits allow us to give to such questions.
The names of the characters in the Danish ballads are Henry (called Duke of Brunswick and of Schleswig in the oldest), Gunild (of Spires, called also Gunder), Ravengaard, and Memering. To these correspond, in the English story, King Henry, Queen Eleanor, Sir Aldingar (the resemblance of this name to Ravengaard will be noted), and a boy, to whom no name is assigned. Eleanor, it hardly need be remarked, is a queen's name somewhat freely used in ballads (see vol. vi. 209, and vol. vii. 291), and it is possible that the consort of Henry II. is here intended, though her reputation both in history and in song hardly favors that supposition.
The occurrence of Spires in the old Danish ballad would naturally induce us to look for the origin of the story in the annals of the German emperors of the Franconian line, who held their court at Spires, and are most of them buried in the cathedral at that place. A very promising clue is immediately found in the history of King (afterwards Emperor) Henry III., son of the Emperor Conrad II. Salicus. This Henry was married, in the year 1036, to Gunhild, daughter of Canute the Great. An English chronicler, William of Malmesbury, writing in the first half of the 12th century, tells us that after this princess had lived many years in honorable wedlock, she was accused of adultery. Being forced to clear herself by wager of battle,she found in all her retinue no one who was willing to risk a combat with her accuser, a man of gigantic stature, save a little boy whom she had brought with her from England. The issue of the duel established her innocence,—her diminutive champion succeeding by some miracle in ham-stringing his huge adversary; but it is alleged that the queen refused to return to her husband, and passed the rest of a long life in a monastery.[3]
A Norman-FrenchLife of Edward the Confessor, written about 1250, repeats this story, and adds the champion's name.[4]