"A daughter had the king,Who was not so beautiful as clever.Gunnild her name; and he gave herTo him who with love had asked for her,—The noble Emperor Henry.She remained not long with him,Because by felons, who had no reasonTo blame her calumniously,She was charged with shame:To the Emperor was she accused.According to the custom of the empire,It behoved her to clear herself from shameBy battle; and she takes much troubleTo find one to be her champion:But finds no one, for very huge wasThe accuser,—as a giant.But a dwarf, whom she had brought up,Undertook the fight with him.At the first blow he hamstrung him;At the second he cut off his feet.Mimecan was the dwarf's name,Who was so good a champion,As the history, which is written,Says of him. The lady was freed from blame,But the lady the emperorNo more will have as her lord."
"A daughter had the king,Who was not so beautiful as clever.Gunnild her name; and he gave herTo him who with love had asked for her,—The noble Emperor Henry.She remained not long with him,Because by felons, who had no reasonTo blame her calumniously,She was charged with shame:To the Emperor was she accused.According to the custom of the empire,It behoved her to clear herself from shameBy battle; and she takes much troubleTo find one to be her champion:But finds no one, for very huge wasThe accuser,—as a giant.But a dwarf, whom she had brought up,Undertook the fight with him.At the first blow he hamstrung him;At the second he cut off his feet.Mimecan was the dwarf's name,Who was so good a champion,As the history, which is written,Says of him. The lady was freed from blame,But the lady the emperorNo more will have as her lord."
Finally, John Brompton, writing two hundred years after William of Malmesbury, repeats his account, and gives the names ofboththe combatants,—"a youth called Mimicon, and a man of gigantic size, by name Roddyngar" (Raadengard = the Danish Ravengaard).
The story of William of Malmesbury and the rest, though it is sufficiently in accordance with the Danish and English ballads, is in direct opposition to the testimony of contemporary German chroniclers, who represent Queen Gunhild as living on the best terms with her husband, and instead of growing old in God's service in a nunnery, as dying of the plague in Italy two years after her marriage, and hardly twenty years of age. It is manifest, therefore, that the English chroniclers derived their accounts from ballads current at their day,[5]which, as they were not founded on anyreal passages in the life of Gunhild, require us to look a little further for their origin.
The empress Gunhild was called by the German chroniclers of her day by various names—as Cunihild, Chunihild, Chunelind, andCunigund, which last name she is said to have assumed at her coronation. This change of Gunhild's name accounts for the unfounded scandals which were in circulation about her in her native land, scarcely a hundred years after her death. Cunigund, wife of Henry III., was in fact confounded with a contemporary German queen and empress,St. Cunigund, widow of the Emperor Henry II. This mistake, which has been made more than once, will be acknowledged to be a very natural one (especially for foreigners), when it is considered that both queens not only bore the same name, but were married each to an emperor of the same name (Henry), both of whom again were sons of Conrads.[6]
Referring now to the history of St. Cunigund, we read in the papal bull of Innocent III., by which she was canonized in the year 1200, that "she consecratedher virginity to the Lord, and preserved it intact,—so that when at one time by the instigation of the enemy of mankind a suspicion had been raised against her, she, to prove her innocence, walked with bare feet over burning ploughshares, and came off unscathed." Again, we read in a slightly more recent German chronicle, as follows: "The Devil, who hates all the righteous, and is ever seeking to bring them to shame, stirred up the Emperor against his wife, persuading him, through a certain duke, that in contempt of her husband she had committed adultery with another man. The empress offered to undergo an ordeal, and a great many bishops came to see it carried out. Whereupon seven glowing ploughshares were laid on the ground, over which the empress was forced to walk in bare feet, to attest her innocence, ... which, when the king saw, he prostrated himself before her with all his nobles." Adalbert's Life of St. Henry (which is, at the latest, of the 12th century), agreeing in all essentials with these accounts, adds an important particular, explaining how it was that the Devil brought the queen's honor into question, namely, that he was seen by many to go in and out of her private chamber, in the likeness of a handsome young man.—St. Cunigund is said to have undergone the ordeal at Bamberg, in the year 1017. The story, however, is without foundation, not being mentioned by any contemporary writers, but first appearing in various legends, towards the year 1200.
But St. Cunigund is by no means the first German empress of whom the story under consideration is told. A writer contemporary with her, who has nothing to say about the miracle just recounted, relates something very similar ofanotherempress, one hundred and thirty years earlier, namely, of Richardis, wife of Charles III. The tale runs that this Charles, in the year 887, accused his queen of unlawful connection with a Bishop. Her Majesty offered to subject herself to the Judgment of God, either by duel or by the ordeal of burning ploughshares. It is not said that either test was applied, but only that the queen retired into a cloister which she had herself founded. This is the contemporary account. A century and a half later we are told that an ordeal bywaterwas actually undergone, which again is changed by later writers into an ordeal byfire,—the empress passing through the flames in a waxed garment, without receiving the least harm; in memory of which, a day was kept, five centuries after, in honor of St. Richardis, in the monastery to which she withdrew.
Several other similar cases might be mentioned, but it will suffice to refer to only one more, more ancient than any of those already cited. Paulus Diaconus (who wrote about the year 800) relates that a Lombard queen, Gundiberg (of the 7th century), having been charged with infidelity, one of her servants asked permission of the king to fight in the lists for his mistress's honor, and conquered his antagonist in the presence of all the people. The same story is told, more in detail, by Aimoin, a somewhat more recent writer, of another Gundeberg, likewise of the 7th century. A Lombard nobleman makes insolent proposals to his queen, and meets with a most emphatic repulse. Upon this he goes to the king with a story that the queen has been three days conspiring to poison her husband, and put her accomplice in his place. Thetale is believed, and the queen shut up in prison. The Frankish king, a relation of the injured woman, remonstrates on the injustice of condemnation without trial, and the king consents to submit the question to a duel. The champion of innocence is victorious, and the real criminal is condignly punished. This form of the legend, the oldest of all that have been cited, approaches very near to the Danish and English ballads.
Our conclusion would therefore be, with Grundtvig, that the ballads ofSir Aldingar,Ravengaard and Memering, and the rest, are of common derivation with the legends of St. Cunigund, Gundeberg, &c., and that all these are offshoots of a story which, "beginning far back in the infancy of the Gothic race and their poetry, is continually turning up, now here and now there, without having a proper home in any definite time or assignable place." Many circumstances corroborative of this view might be added, but we must content ourselves with obviating a possible objection. An invariable feature in the story is thejudicium Deiby which the innocence of the accused wife is established, but there is much difference in the various forms of the legend as to thekindof ordeal employed, and some minds may here find difficulty. A close observation, however, will show such a connection between the different accounts as to prove an original unity. Even the earlier legends of St. Cunigund do not agree on this point; one makes her to have walked over burning ploughshares, another to have carried red-hot iron in her hands. The Icelandic copy of the ballad has both of these: the queen "carries iron and walks on steel"; and there is also a "judgment byiron bands." All these three tests are found in the Faroe ballad, which brings in Memering besides, and thus furnishes a transition to the Danish, which says nothing about the trial by fire, and has only the duel. Finally the English ballad completes the circle with the pile at which the queen was to be burned, in case she should not be able to prove her innocence by the duel.
At a time uncertain, but earlier than the 14th century, this legend was transplanted into the literature of Southern Europe. It is found in various Spanish chronicles, the earliest theHistoria de Cataluñaof Bernardo Desclot, written about 1300; also in a Provençal and a French chronicle of the 17th century. In most of these the part of the queen's champion is assigned to the well-known Raimund Berengar, Count of Barcelona, who, in the year 1113, took Majorca from the Moors. The popularity of the story is further proved by the Spanish romance,El Conde de Barcelona y la Emperatriz de Alemania; the French romanceL'Histoire de Palanus, Comte de Lyon; and a novel of Bandello, the 44th of the Second Part. This last was re-written and published in 1713, with slight changes, as an original tale, by Mmede Fontaines (Histoire de la Comtesse de Savoie), whence Voltaire borrowed materials for two of his tragedies,TancrèdeandArtémire.
By the circuitous route of Spain the story returns to England in a romance of the 15th century,The Erle of Tolous(Ritson,Metr. Rom.iii. p. 93). Nearly related with this romance is the German story-book (derived from the French) on which Hans Sachs founded his tragedy,Der Ritter Golmi mit der Herzogin auss Britanien. Another German popular story-book,Hirlanda, exhibits a close resemblance to our ballad ofSir Aldingar.[7]
"This old fabulous legend is given from the editor's folio MS., with conjectural emendations, and the insertion of some additional stanzas to supply and complete the story. It has been suggested to the editor that the author of the poem seems to have had in his eye the story of Gunhilda, who is sometimes called Eleanor (?), and was married to the emperor (here called king) Henry."—Percy.
[3]"Although there are seven centuries between William and our times," says Grundtvig, "and the North Sea between Jutland and the land of his birth, it almost seems as if he had taken his account from the very ballad which is at this day sung on the little island of Fuur in the Lym Fiord."[4]We have substituted this paragraph instead of a later chronicle cited by Grundtvig. The translation is that of the English editor:Lives of Edward the Confessor(p. 39, 193), recently published by authority of the British government.[5]William of Malmesbury refers to ballads which were made on the splendid nuptial procession, by which Gunhild was conducted to the ship that was to bear her to her husband, as still sung about the streets in his time.[6]An argument in confirmation of what is here said is afforded by a German annalist of the 14th century, who states, under the date 1038, that the empress Cunigund died the 3d of March, and was buried at Spires. Now St. Cunigund actually did die the 3d of March, and that day is dedicated to her in the Roman calendar, but the year was 1040, and she was buried at Bamberg, while Gunhild died in 1038 (July 18), and was buried in the monastery of Limburg, near Spires.[7]In § v. of his Introduction toRavengaard og Memering, Grundtvig seeks to show that this ballad, though independent in its origin, was at one time, like many others, woven into the great South-Gothic epic of Diderik of Bern, and then, having divided the legend into two portions,—the Accusation and its Cause, the Vindication and its Mode,—he, in § vi. vii. traces out with wonderful learning and penetration the extensive ramifications of the first part, taken by itself, through the romance of the Middle Ages. The whole essay is beyond praise.
[3]"Although there are seven centuries between William and our times," says Grundtvig, "and the North Sea between Jutland and the land of his birth, it almost seems as if he had taken his account from the very ballad which is at this day sung on the little island of Fuur in the Lym Fiord."
[4]We have substituted this paragraph instead of a later chronicle cited by Grundtvig. The translation is that of the English editor:Lives of Edward the Confessor(p. 39, 193), recently published by authority of the British government.
[5]William of Malmesbury refers to ballads which were made on the splendid nuptial procession, by which Gunhild was conducted to the ship that was to bear her to her husband, as still sung about the streets in his time.
[6]An argument in confirmation of what is here said is afforded by a German annalist of the 14th century, who states, under the date 1038, that the empress Cunigund died the 3d of March, and was buried at Spires. Now St. Cunigund actually did die the 3d of March, and that day is dedicated to her in the Roman calendar, but the year was 1040, and she was buried at Bamberg, while Gunhild died in 1038 (July 18), and was buried in the monastery of Limburg, near Spires.
[7]In § v. of his Introduction toRavengaard og Memering, Grundtvig seeks to show that this ballad, though independent in its origin, was at one time, like many others, woven into the great South-Gothic epic of Diderik of Bern, and then, having divided the legend into two portions,—the Accusation and its Cause, the Vindication and its Mode,—he, in § vi. vii. traces out with wonderful learning and penetration the extensive ramifications of the first part, taken by itself, through the romance of the Middle Ages. The whole essay is beyond praise.
Our king he kept a false stewarde,Sir Aldingar they him call;A falser steward than he was one,Servde not in bower nor hall.He wolde have layne by our comelye queene,5Her deere worshippe to betraye;Our queene she was a good woman,And evermore said him naye.Sir Aldingar was wrothe in his mind,With her hee was never content,10Till traiterous meanes he colde devyse,In a fyer to have her brent.There came a lazar to the kings gate,A lazar both blinde and lame;He tooke the lazar upon his backe,15Him on the queenes bed has layne."Lye still, lazar, wheras thou lyest,Looke thou goe not hence away;Ile make thee a whole man and a soundIn two howers of the day."20Then went him forth Sir Aldingar,And hyed him to our king:"If I might have grace, as I have space,Sad tydings I could bring.""Say on, say on, Sir Aldingar,25Saye on the soothe to mee.""Our queene hath chosen a new, new love,And shee will have none of thee."If shee had chosen a right good knight,The lesse had beene her shame;30But she hath chose her a lazar man,A lazar both blinde and lame.""If this be true, thou Aldingar,The tyding thou tellest to me,Then will I make thee a rich, rich knight,35Rich both of golde and fee."But if it be false, Sir Aldingar,As God nowe grant it bee!Thy body, I sweare by the holye rood,Shall hang on the gallows tree."40He brought our king to the queenes chamber,And opend to him the dore:"A lodlye love," King Harry says,"For our queene," dame Elinore!"If thou were a man, as thou art none,45Here on my sword thoust dye;But a payre of new gallowes shall be built,And there shalt thou hang on hye."Forth then hyed our king, iwysse,And an angry man was hee,50And soone he found queene Elinore,That bride so bright of blee."Now God you save, our queene, madame,And Christ you save and see!Here you have chosen a newe, newe love,55And you will have none of mee."If you had chosen a right good knight,The lesse had been your shame;But you have chose you a lazar man,A lazar both blinde and lame.60"Therfore a fyer there shall be built,And brent all shalt thou bee."—"Now out, alacke!" said our comly queene,"Sir Aldingar's false to mee."Now out, alacke!" sayd our comlye queene,65"My heart with griefe will brast:I had thought swevens had never been true,I have proved them true at last."I dreamt in my sweven on Thursday eve,In my bed wheras I laye,70I dreamt a grype and a grimlie beastHad carryed my crowne awaye;"My gorgett and my kirtle of golde,And all my faire head-geere;And he wold worrye me with his tush,75And to his nest y-beare:"Saving there came a little gray hawke,A merlin him they call,Which untill the grounde did strike the grype,That dead he downe did fall.80"Giffe I were a man, as now I am none,A battell wold I prove,To fight with that traitor Aldingar:Att him I cast my glove."But seeing Ime able noe battell to make,85My liege, grant me a knightTo fight with that traitor, Sir Aldingar,To maintaine me in my right.""Now forty dayes I will give theeTo seeke thee a knight therin:90If thou find not a knight in forty dayes,Thy bodye it must brenn."Then shee sent east, and shee sent west,By north and south bedeene;But never a champion colde she find,95Wolde fight with that knight soe keene.Now twenty dayes were spent and gone,Noe helpe there might be had;Many a teare shed our comelye queene,And aye her hart was sad.100Then came one of the queenes damselles,And knelt upon her knee:Cheare up, cheare up, my gracious dame,I trust yet helpe may be."And here I will make mine avowe,105And with the same me binde,That never will I return to thee,Till I some helpe may finde."Then forth she rode on a faire palfraye,Oer hill and dale about;110But never a champion colde she finde,Wolde fighte with that knight so stout.And nowe the daye drewe on apace,When our good queene must dye;All woe-begone was that fair damselle,115When she found no helpe was nye.All woe-begone was that faire damselle,And the salt teares fell from her eye;When lo! as she rode by a rivers side,She met with a tinye boye.120A tinye boy she mette, God wot,All clad in mantle of golde;He seemed noe more in mans likenesse,Then a childe of four yeere olde."Why grieve you, damselle faire?" he sayd,125"And what doth cause you moane?"The damsell scant wolde deigne a looke,But fast she pricked on."Yet turne againe, thou faire damselle,And greete thy queene from mee;130When bale is at hyest, boote is nyest;Nowe helpe enoughe may bee."Bid her remember what she dreamt,In her bedd wheras shee laye;How when the grype and the grimly beast135Wolde have carried her crowne awaye,"Even then there came the little gray hawke,And saved her from his clawes:Then bidd the queene be merry at hart,For heaven will fende her cause."140Back then rode that fair damselle,And her hart it lept for glee:And when she told her gracious dame,A gladd woman then was shee.But when the appointed day was come,145No helpe appeared nye;Then woeful woeful was her hart,And the teares stood in her eye.And nowe a fyer was built of wood,And a stake was made of tree;150And now queene Elinor forth was led,A sorrowful sight to see.Three times the herault he waved his hand,And three times spake on hye;"Giff any good knight will fende this dame,155Come forth, or shee must dye."No knight stood forth, no knight there came,No helpe appeared nye;And now the fyer was lighted up,Queene Elinor she must dye.160And now the fyer was lighted up,As hot as hot might bee;When riding upon a little white steed,The tinye boye they see."Away with that stake, away with those brands,165And loose our comelye queene:I am come to fight with Sir Aldingar,And prove him a traitor keene."Forth then stood Sir Aldingar;But when he saw the chylde,170He laughed, and scoffed, and turned his backe,And weened he had been beguylde."Now turne, now turne thee, Aldingar,And eyther fighte or flee;I trust that I shall avenge the wronge,175Thoughe I am so small to see."The boye pulld forth a well good sworde,So gilt it dazzled the ee;The first stroke stricken at AldingarSmote off his leggs by the knee.180"Stand up, stand up, thou false traitor,And fighte upon thy feete,For, and thou thrive as thou beginst,Of height wee shall be meete.""A priest, a priest," sayes Aldingar,185"While I am a man alive;"A priest, a priest," sayes Aldingar,"Me for to houzle and shrive."I wolde have laine by our comlie queene,But shee wolde never consent;190Then I thought to betraye her unto our kinge,In a fyer to have her brent."There came a lazar to the kings gates,A lazar both blind and lame;I tooke the lazar upon my backe,195And on her bedd had him layne."Then ranne I to our comlye king,These tidings sore to tell:But ever alacke!" sayes Aldingar,"Falsing never doth well.200"Forgive, forgive me, queene, madame,The short time I must live:""Nowe Christ forgive thee, Aldingar,As freely I forgive.""Here take thy queene, our King Harrye,205And love her as thy life,For never had a king in ChristentyeA truer and fairer wife."King Harrye ran to claspe his queene,And loosed her full sone;210Then turnd to look for the tinye boye:—The boye was vanisht and gone.But first he had touchd the lazar man,And stroakt him with his hand;The lazar under the gallowes tree215All whole and sounde did stand.The lazar under the gallowes treeWas comelye, straight, and tall;King Henrye made him his head stewarde,To wayte withinn his hall.220
Our king he kept a false stewarde,Sir Aldingar they him call;A falser steward than he was one,Servde not in bower nor hall.
He wolde have layne by our comelye queene,5Her deere worshippe to betraye;Our queene she was a good woman,And evermore said him naye.
Sir Aldingar was wrothe in his mind,With her hee was never content,10Till traiterous meanes he colde devyse,In a fyer to have her brent.
There came a lazar to the kings gate,A lazar both blinde and lame;He tooke the lazar upon his backe,15Him on the queenes bed has layne.
"Lye still, lazar, wheras thou lyest,Looke thou goe not hence away;Ile make thee a whole man and a soundIn two howers of the day."20
Then went him forth Sir Aldingar,And hyed him to our king:"If I might have grace, as I have space,Sad tydings I could bring."
"Say on, say on, Sir Aldingar,25Saye on the soothe to mee.""Our queene hath chosen a new, new love,And shee will have none of thee.
"If shee had chosen a right good knight,The lesse had beene her shame;30But she hath chose her a lazar man,A lazar both blinde and lame."
"If this be true, thou Aldingar,The tyding thou tellest to me,Then will I make thee a rich, rich knight,35Rich both of golde and fee.
"But if it be false, Sir Aldingar,As God nowe grant it bee!Thy body, I sweare by the holye rood,Shall hang on the gallows tree."40
He brought our king to the queenes chamber,And opend to him the dore:"A lodlye love," King Harry says,"For our queene," dame Elinore!
"If thou were a man, as thou art none,45Here on my sword thoust dye;But a payre of new gallowes shall be built,And there shalt thou hang on hye."
Forth then hyed our king, iwysse,And an angry man was hee,50And soone he found queene Elinore,That bride so bright of blee.
"Now God you save, our queene, madame,And Christ you save and see!Here you have chosen a newe, newe love,55And you will have none of mee.
"If you had chosen a right good knight,The lesse had been your shame;But you have chose you a lazar man,A lazar both blinde and lame.60
"Therfore a fyer there shall be built,And brent all shalt thou bee."—"Now out, alacke!" said our comly queene,"Sir Aldingar's false to mee.
"Now out, alacke!" sayd our comlye queene,65"My heart with griefe will brast:I had thought swevens had never been true,I have proved them true at last.
"I dreamt in my sweven on Thursday eve,In my bed wheras I laye,70I dreamt a grype and a grimlie beastHad carryed my crowne awaye;
"My gorgett and my kirtle of golde,And all my faire head-geere;And he wold worrye me with his tush,75And to his nest y-beare:
"Saving there came a little gray hawke,A merlin him they call,Which untill the grounde did strike the grype,That dead he downe did fall.80
"Giffe I were a man, as now I am none,A battell wold I prove,To fight with that traitor Aldingar:Att him I cast my glove.
"But seeing Ime able noe battell to make,85My liege, grant me a knightTo fight with that traitor, Sir Aldingar,To maintaine me in my right."
"Now forty dayes I will give theeTo seeke thee a knight therin:90If thou find not a knight in forty dayes,Thy bodye it must brenn."
Then shee sent east, and shee sent west,By north and south bedeene;But never a champion colde she find,95Wolde fight with that knight soe keene.
Now twenty dayes were spent and gone,Noe helpe there might be had;Many a teare shed our comelye queene,And aye her hart was sad.100
Then came one of the queenes damselles,And knelt upon her knee:Cheare up, cheare up, my gracious dame,I trust yet helpe may be.
"And here I will make mine avowe,105And with the same me binde,That never will I return to thee,Till I some helpe may finde."
Then forth she rode on a faire palfraye,Oer hill and dale about;110But never a champion colde she finde,Wolde fighte with that knight so stout.
And nowe the daye drewe on apace,When our good queene must dye;All woe-begone was that fair damselle,115When she found no helpe was nye.
All woe-begone was that faire damselle,And the salt teares fell from her eye;When lo! as she rode by a rivers side,She met with a tinye boye.120
A tinye boy she mette, God wot,All clad in mantle of golde;He seemed noe more in mans likenesse,Then a childe of four yeere olde.
"Why grieve you, damselle faire?" he sayd,125"And what doth cause you moane?"The damsell scant wolde deigne a looke,But fast she pricked on.
"Yet turne againe, thou faire damselle,And greete thy queene from mee;130When bale is at hyest, boote is nyest;Nowe helpe enoughe may bee.
"Bid her remember what she dreamt,In her bedd wheras shee laye;How when the grype and the grimly beast135Wolde have carried her crowne awaye,
"Even then there came the little gray hawke,And saved her from his clawes:Then bidd the queene be merry at hart,For heaven will fende her cause."140
Back then rode that fair damselle,And her hart it lept for glee:And when she told her gracious dame,A gladd woman then was shee.
But when the appointed day was come,145No helpe appeared nye;Then woeful woeful was her hart,And the teares stood in her eye.
And nowe a fyer was built of wood,And a stake was made of tree;150And now queene Elinor forth was led,A sorrowful sight to see.
Three times the herault he waved his hand,And three times spake on hye;"Giff any good knight will fende this dame,155Come forth, or shee must dye."
No knight stood forth, no knight there came,No helpe appeared nye;And now the fyer was lighted up,Queene Elinor she must dye.160
And now the fyer was lighted up,As hot as hot might bee;When riding upon a little white steed,The tinye boye they see.
"Away with that stake, away with those brands,165And loose our comelye queene:I am come to fight with Sir Aldingar,And prove him a traitor keene."
Forth then stood Sir Aldingar;But when he saw the chylde,170He laughed, and scoffed, and turned his backe,And weened he had been beguylde.
"Now turne, now turne thee, Aldingar,And eyther fighte or flee;I trust that I shall avenge the wronge,175Thoughe I am so small to see."
The boye pulld forth a well good sworde,So gilt it dazzled the ee;The first stroke stricken at AldingarSmote off his leggs by the knee.180
"Stand up, stand up, thou false traitor,And fighte upon thy feete,For, and thou thrive as thou beginst,Of height wee shall be meete."
"A priest, a priest," sayes Aldingar,185"While I am a man alive;"A priest, a priest," sayes Aldingar,"Me for to houzle and shrive.
"I wolde have laine by our comlie queene,But shee wolde never consent;190Then I thought to betraye her unto our kinge,In a fyer to have her brent.
"There came a lazar to the kings gates,A lazar both blind and lame;I tooke the lazar upon my backe,195And on her bedd had him layne.
"Then ranne I to our comlye king,These tidings sore to tell:But ever alacke!" sayes Aldingar,"Falsing never doth well.200
"Forgive, forgive me, queene, madame,The short time I must live:""Nowe Christ forgive thee, Aldingar,As freely I forgive."
"Here take thy queene, our King Harrye,205And love her as thy life,For never had a king in ChristentyeA truer and fairer wife."
King Harrye ran to claspe his queene,And loosed her full sone;210Then turnd to look for the tinye boye:—The boye was vanisht and gone.
But first he had touchd the lazar man,And stroakt him with his hand;The lazar under the gallowes tree215All whole and sounde did stand.
The lazar under the gallowes treeWas comelye, straight, and tall;King Henrye made him his head stewarde,To wayte withinn his hall.220
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, iii. 51.
"The tradition, upon which the ballad is founded, is universally current in the Mearns; and the Editor is informed, that, till very lately, the sword, with which Sir Hugh le Blond was believed to have defended the life and honour of the Queen, was carefully preserved by his descendants, the Viscounts of Arbuthnot. That Sir Hugh of Arbuthnot lived in the thirteenth century, is proved by his having, 1282, bestowed the patronage of the church of Garvoch upon the Monks of Aberbrothwick, for the safety of his soul.—Register of Aberbrothwick, quoted by Crawford in Peerage.
"I was favoured with the following copy ofSir Hugh le Blond, by K. Williamson Burnet, Esq. of Monboddo, who wrote it down from the recitation of an old woman,long in the service of the Arbuthnot family. Of course, the diction is very much humbled, and it has, in all probability, undergone many corruptions; but its antiquity is indubitable, and the story, though indifferently told, is in itself interesting. It is believed that there have been many more verses."Scott.
The birds sang sweet as ony bell,The world had not their make,The Queen she's gone to her chamber,With Rodingham to talk."I love you well, my Queen, my dame,5'Bove land and rents so clear,And for the love of you, my Queen,Would thole pain most severe."—"If well you love me, Rodingham,I'm sure so do I thee:10I love you well as any man,Save the King's fair bodye."—"I love you well, my Queen, my dame;'Tis truth that I do tell:And for to lye a night with you,15The salt seas I would sail."—"Away, away, O Rodingham!You are both stark and stoor;Would you defile the King's own bed,And make his Queen a whore?20"To-morrow you'd be taken sure,And like a traitor slain;And I'd be burned at a stake,Although I be the Queen."—He then stepp'd out at her room door,25All in an angry mood:Until he met a leper-man,Just by the hard way-side.He intoxicate the leper-man,With liquors very sweet:30And gave him more and more to drink,Until he fell asleep.He took him in his armis twa,And carried him along,Till he came to the Queen's own bed,35And there he laid him down.He then stepp'd out of the Queen's bower,As swift as any roe,'Till he came to the very placeWhere the King himself did go.40The King said unto Rodingham,"What news have you to me?"—He said, "Your Queen's a false woman,As I did plainly see."—He hasten'd to the Queen's chamber,45So costly and so fine,Until he came to the Queen's own bed,Where the leper-man was lain.He looked on the leper-man,Who lay on his Queen's bed;50He lifted up the snaw-white sheets,And thus he to him said:—"Plooky, plooky, are your cheeks,And plooky is your chin,And plooky are your armis twa,55My bonny Queen's layne in."Since she has lain into your arms,She shall not lye in mine;Since she has kiss'd your ugsome mouth,She never shall kiss mine."—60In anger he went to the Queen,Who fell upon her knee;He said, "You false, unchaste woman,What's this you've done to me?"The Queen then turn'd herself about,65The tear blinded her ee—"There's not a knight in a' your courtDare give that name to me."He said, "'Tis true that I do say;For I a proof did make:70You shall be taken from my bower,And burned at a stake."Perhaps I'll take my word again,And may repent the same,If that you'll get a Christian man75To fight that Rodingham."—"Alas! alas!" then cried our Queen,"Alas, and woe to me!There's not a man in all ScotlandWill fight with him for me."—80She breathed unto her messengers,Sent them south, east, and west;They could find none to fight with him,Nor enter the contest.She breathed on her messengers,85She sent them to the north;And there they found Sir Hugh le Blond,To fight him he came forth.When unto him they did unfoldThe circumstance all right,90He bade them go and tell the Queen,That for her he would fight.The day came on that was to doThat dreadful tragedy;Sir Hugh le Blond was not come up95To fight for our ladye."Put on the fire," the monster said:"It is twelve on the bell.""'Tis scarcely ten, now," said the King;"I heard the clock mysell."—100Before the hour the Queen is brought,The burning to proceed;In a black velvet chair she's set,A token for the dead.She saw the flames ascending high,105The tears blinded her ee:"Where is the worthy knight," she said,"Who is to fight for me?"—Then up and spak the King himsell,"My dearest, have no doubt,110For yonder comes the man himsell,As bold as e'er set out."—They then advanced to fight the duelWith swords of temper'd steel,Till down the blood of Rodingham115Came running to his heel.Sir Hugh took out a lusty sword,'Twas of the metal clear,And he has pierced RodinghamTill's heart-blood did appear.120"Confess your treachery, now," he said,"This day before you die!"—"I do confess my treachery,I shall no longer lye:"I like to wicked Haman am,125This day I shall be slain."—The Queen was brought to her chamber,A good woman again.The Queen then said unto the King,"Arbattle's near the sea;130Give it unto the northern knight,That this day fought for me."Then said the King, "Come here, Sir Knight,And drink a glass of wine;And, ifArbattle'snot enough,135To it we'll Fordoun join."
The birds sang sweet as ony bell,The world had not their make,The Queen she's gone to her chamber,With Rodingham to talk.
"I love you well, my Queen, my dame,5'Bove land and rents so clear,And for the love of you, my Queen,Would thole pain most severe."—
"If well you love me, Rodingham,I'm sure so do I thee:10I love you well as any man,Save the King's fair bodye."—
"I love you well, my Queen, my dame;'Tis truth that I do tell:And for to lye a night with you,15The salt seas I would sail."—
"Away, away, O Rodingham!You are both stark and stoor;Would you defile the King's own bed,And make his Queen a whore?20
"To-morrow you'd be taken sure,And like a traitor slain;And I'd be burned at a stake,Although I be the Queen."—
He then stepp'd out at her room door,25All in an angry mood:Until he met a leper-man,Just by the hard way-side.
He intoxicate the leper-man,With liquors very sweet:30And gave him more and more to drink,Until he fell asleep.
He took him in his armis twa,And carried him along,Till he came to the Queen's own bed,35And there he laid him down.
He then stepp'd out of the Queen's bower,As swift as any roe,'Till he came to the very placeWhere the King himself did go.40
The King said unto Rodingham,"What news have you to me?"—He said, "Your Queen's a false woman,As I did plainly see."—
He hasten'd to the Queen's chamber,45So costly and so fine,Until he came to the Queen's own bed,Where the leper-man was lain.
He looked on the leper-man,Who lay on his Queen's bed;50He lifted up the snaw-white sheets,And thus he to him said:—
"Plooky, plooky, are your cheeks,And plooky is your chin,And plooky are your armis twa,55My bonny Queen's layne in.
"Since she has lain into your arms,She shall not lye in mine;Since she has kiss'd your ugsome mouth,She never shall kiss mine."—60
In anger he went to the Queen,Who fell upon her knee;He said, "You false, unchaste woman,What's this you've done to me?"
The Queen then turn'd herself about,65The tear blinded her ee—"There's not a knight in a' your courtDare give that name to me."
He said, "'Tis true that I do say;For I a proof did make:70You shall be taken from my bower,And burned at a stake.
"Perhaps I'll take my word again,And may repent the same,If that you'll get a Christian man75To fight that Rodingham."—
"Alas! alas!" then cried our Queen,"Alas, and woe to me!There's not a man in all ScotlandWill fight with him for me."—80
She breathed unto her messengers,Sent them south, east, and west;They could find none to fight with him,Nor enter the contest.
She breathed on her messengers,85She sent them to the north;And there they found Sir Hugh le Blond,To fight him he came forth.
When unto him they did unfoldThe circumstance all right,90He bade them go and tell the Queen,That for her he would fight.
The day came on that was to doThat dreadful tragedy;Sir Hugh le Blond was not come up95To fight for our ladye.
"Put on the fire," the monster said:"It is twelve on the bell.""'Tis scarcely ten, now," said the King;"I heard the clock mysell."—100
Before the hour the Queen is brought,The burning to proceed;In a black velvet chair she's set,A token for the dead.
She saw the flames ascending high,105The tears blinded her ee:"Where is the worthy knight," she said,"Who is to fight for me?"—
Then up and spak the King himsell,"My dearest, have no doubt,110For yonder comes the man himsell,As bold as e'er set out."—
They then advanced to fight the duelWith swords of temper'd steel,Till down the blood of Rodingham115Came running to his heel.
Sir Hugh took out a lusty sword,'Twas of the metal clear,And he has pierced RodinghamTill's heart-blood did appear.120
"Confess your treachery, now," he said,"This day before you die!"—"I do confess my treachery,I shall no longer lye:
"I like to wicked Haman am,125This day I shall be slain."—The Queen was brought to her chamber,A good woman again.
The Queen then said unto the King,"Arbattle's near the sea;130Give it unto the northern knight,That this day fought for me."
Then said the King, "Come here, Sir Knight,And drink a glass of wine;And, ifArbattle'snot enough,135To it we'll Fordoun join."
135. Arbattle is the ancient name of the barony of Arbuthnot. Fordun has long been the patrimony of the same family. S.
135. Arbattle is the ancient name of the barony of Arbuthnot. Fordun has long been the patrimony of the same family. S.
"This ballad (given from an old black-letter copy, with some corrections) was popular in the time of Queen Elizabeth, being usually printed with her picture before it, as Hearne informs us in his preface to Gul. Neubrig,Hist. Oxon, 1719, 8vo. vol. i. p. lxx. It is quoted in Fletcher's comedy of thePilgrim, act 4, sc. 2."Percy'sReliques, iii. 114.
The Scottish ballad corresponding to Percy's has been printed by Kinloch, p. 25. Besides this, however, there are three other Scottish versions, superior to the English in every respect, and much longer. They areEarl Richard, Motherwell, p. 377; (also in Buchan'sBallads of the North of Scotland, ii. 81;) a ballad with the same title in Kinloch's collection, p. 15; andEarl Lithgow, Buchan, ii. 91. In all these, the futile attempts of the knight to escape marrying the lady, and the devices by which she aggravates his reluctance to enter into the match, are managed with no little humour. We giveMotherwell's editiona place next to Percy's, and refer the reader for Kinloch'sto the Appendix.
There was a shepherds daughterCame tripping on the waye,And there by chance a knighte shee mett,Which caused her to staye."Good morrowe to you, beauteous maide,"5These words pronounced hee;"O I shall dye this daye," he sayd,"If Ive not my wille of thee.""The Lord forbid," the maide replyd,"That you shold waxe so wode!"10But for all that shee could do or saye,He wold not be withstood."Sith you have had your wille of mee,And put me to open shame,Now, if you are a courteous knighte,15Tell me what is your name?""Some do call mee Jacke, sweet heart,And some do call mee Jille;But when I come to the kings faire courte,They calle me Wilfulle Wille."20He sett his foot into the stirrup,And awaye then he did ride;She tuckt her girdle about her middle,And ranne close by his side.But when she came to the brode water,25She sett her brest and swamme;And when she was got out againe,She tooke to her heels and ranne.He never was the courteous knighte,To saye, "Faire maide, will ye ride?"30And she was ever too loving a maideTo saye, "Sir knighte, abide."When she came to the kings faire courte,She knocked at the ring;So readye was the king himself35To let this faire maide in."Now Christ you save, my gracious liege,Now Christ you save and see;You have a knighte within your courteThis daye hath robbed mee."40"What hath he robbed thee of, sweet heart?Of purple or of pall?Or hath he took thy gaye gold ringFrom off thy finger small?""He hath not robbed mee, my liege,45Of purple nor of pall;But he hath gotten my maidenhead,Which grieves mee worst of all.""Now if he be a batchelor,His bodye Ile give to thee;50But if he be a married man,High hanged he shall bee."He called downe his merrye men all,By one, by two, by three;Sir William used to bee the first,55But nowe the last came hee.He brought her downe full fortye pounde,Tyed up withinne a glove:"Faire maid, Ile give the same to thee;Go, seeke thee another love."60"O Ile have none of your gold," she sayde,"Nor Ile have none of your fee;But your faire bodye I must have,The king hath granted mee."Sir William ranne and fetchd her then65Five hundred pound in golde,Saying, "Faire maide, take this to thee,Thy fault will never be tolde.""Tis not the gold that shall mee tempt,"These words then answered shee,70"But your own bodye I must have,The king hath granted mee.""Would I had drunke the water cleare,When I did drinke the wine,Rather than any shepherds brat75Shold bee a ladye of mine!"Would I had drank the puddle foule,When I did drink the ale,Rather than ever a shepherds bratShold tell me such a tale!"80"A shepherds brat even as I was,You mote have let mee bee;I never had come to the kings faire courte,To crave any love of thee."He sett her on a milk-white steede,85And himself upon a graye;He hung a bugle about his necke,And soe they rode awaye.But when they came unto the place,Where marriage-rites were done,90She proved herself a dukes daughter,And he but a squires sonne."Now marrye me, or not, sir knight,Your pleasure shall be free:If you make me ladye of one good towne,95Ile make you lord of three.""Ah! cursed bee the gold," he sayd;"If thou hadst not been trewe,I shold have forsaken my sweet love,And have changed her for a newe."100And now their hearts being linked fast,They joyned hand in hande:Thus he had both purse, and person too,And all at his commande.
There was a shepherds daughterCame tripping on the waye,And there by chance a knighte shee mett,Which caused her to staye.
"Good morrowe to you, beauteous maide,"5These words pronounced hee;"O I shall dye this daye," he sayd,"If Ive not my wille of thee."
"The Lord forbid," the maide replyd,"That you shold waxe so wode!"10But for all that shee could do or saye,He wold not be withstood.
"Sith you have had your wille of mee,And put me to open shame,Now, if you are a courteous knighte,15Tell me what is your name?"
"Some do call mee Jacke, sweet heart,And some do call mee Jille;But when I come to the kings faire courte,They calle me Wilfulle Wille."20
He sett his foot into the stirrup,And awaye then he did ride;She tuckt her girdle about her middle,And ranne close by his side.
But when she came to the brode water,25She sett her brest and swamme;And when she was got out againe,She tooke to her heels and ranne.
He never was the courteous knighte,To saye, "Faire maide, will ye ride?"30And she was ever too loving a maideTo saye, "Sir knighte, abide."
When she came to the kings faire courte,She knocked at the ring;So readye was the king himself35To let this faire maide in.
"Now Christ you save, my gracious liege,Now Christ you save and see;You have a knighte within your courteThis daye hath robbed mee."40
"What hath he robbed thee of, sweet heart?Of purple or of pall?Or hath he took thy gaye gold ringFrom off thy finger small?"
"He hath not robbed mee, my liege,45Of purple nor of pall;But he hath gotten my maidenhead,Which grieves mee worst of all."
"Now if he be a batchelor,His bodye Ile give to thee;50But if he be a married man,High hanged he shall bee."
He called downe his merrye men all,By one, by two, by three;Sir William used to bee the first,55But nowe the last came hee.
He brought her downe full fortye pounde,Tyed up withinne a glove:"Faire maid, Ile give the same to thee;Go, seeke thee another love."60
"O Ile have none of your gold," she sayde,"Nor Ile have none of your fee;But your faire bodye I must have,The king hath granted mee."
Sir William ranne and fetchd her then65Five hundred pound in golde,Saying, "Faire maide, take this to thee,Thy fault will never be tolde."
"Tis not the gold that shall mee tempt,"These words then answered shee,70"But your own bodye I must have,The king hath granted mee."
"Would I had drunke the water cleare,When I did drinke the wine,Rather than any shepherds brat75Shold bee a ladye of mine!
"Would I had drank the puddle foule,When I did drink the ale,Rather than ever a shepherds bratShold tell me such a tale!"80
"A shepherds brat even as I was,You mote have let mee bee;I never had come to the kings faire courte,To crave any love of thee."
He sett her on a milk-white steede,85And himself upon a graye;He hung a bugle about his necke,And soe they rode awaye.
But when they came unto the place,Where marriage-rites were done,90She proved herself a dukes daughter,And he but a squires sonne.
"Now marrye me, or not, sir knight,Your pleasure shall be free:If you make me ladye of one good towne,95Ile make you lord of three."
"Ah! cursed bee the gold," he sayd;"If thou hadst not been trewe,I shold have forsaken my sweet love,And have changed her for a newe."100
And now their hearts being linked fast,They joyned hand in hande:Thus he had both purse, and person too,And all at his commande.