YOUNG HASTINGS THE GROOM.

97. The regular propitiation for the "proud porter" of ballad poetry. See, e.g.King Arthur and the King of Cornwall, in the Appendix, v. 49: also the note toKing Estmere, vol. iii. p. 172.

"O well love I to ride in a mist,And shoot in a northern wind;And far better a lady to steal,That's come of a noble kind."5Four-and-twenty fair ladiesPut on that lady's sheen;And as many young gentlemenDid lead her o'er the green.Yet she preferred before them all10Him, young Hastings the Groom;He's coosten a mist before them all,And away this lady has ta'en.He's taken the lady on him behind,Spared neither the grass nor corn,15Till they came to the wood of Amonshaw,Where again their loves were sworn.And they have lived in that woodFull many a year and day,And were supported from time to time,20By what he made of prey.And seven bairns, fair and fine,There she has born to him,And never was in good church door,Nor never gat good kirking.25Once she took harp into her hand,And harped them asleep;Then she sat down at their couch side,And bitterly did weep.Said, "Seven bairns have I born now30To my lord in the ha';I wish they were seven greedy rats,To run upon the wa',And I mysel' a great grey cat,To eat them ane an' a'.35"For ten long years now I have livedWithin this cave of stane,And never was at good church door,Nor got no good churching."O then outspak her eldest child,40And a fine boy was he,—"O hold your tongue, my mother dear;I'll tell you what to dee."Take you the youngest in your lap,The next youngest by the hand;45Put all the rest of us you before,As you learnt us to gang."And go with us into some good kirk,—You say they are built of stane,—And let us all be christened,50And you get good kirking."She took the youngest in her lap,The next youngest by the hand;Set all the rest of them her before,As she learnt them to gang.55And she has left the wood with them,And to a kirk has gane;Where the good priest them christened,And gave her good kirking.

"O well love I to ride in a mist,And shoot in a northern wind;And far better a lady to steal,That's come of a noble kind."

5Four-and-twenty fair ladiesPut on that lady's sheen;And as many young gentlemenDid lead her o'er the green.

Yet she preferred before them all10Him, young Hastings the Groom;He's coosten a mist before them all,And away this lady has ta'en.

He's taken the lady on him behind,Spared neither the grass nor corn,15Till they came to the wood of Amonshaw,Where again their loves were sworn.

And they have lived in that woodFull many a year and day,And were supported from time to time,20By what he made of prey.

And seven bairns, fair and fine,There she has born to him,And never was in good church door,Nor never gat good kirking.

25Once she took harp into her hand,And harped them asleep;Then she sat down at their couch side,And bitterly did weep.

Said, "Seven bairns have I born now30To my lord in the ha';I wish they were seven greedy rats,To run upon the wa',And I mysel' a great grey cat,To eat them ane an' a'.

35"For ten long years now I have livedWithin this cave of stane,And never was at good church door,Nor got no good churching."

O then outspak her eldest child,40And a fine boy was he,—"O hold your tongue, my mother dear;I'll tell you what to dee.

"Take you the youngest in your lap,The next youngest by the hand;45Put all the rest of us you before,As you learnt us to gang.

"And go with us into some good kirk,—You say they are built of stane,—And let us all be christened,50And you get good kirking."

She took the youngest in her lap,The next youngest by the hand;Set all the rest of them her before,As she learnt them to gang.

55And she has left the wood with them,And to a kirk has gane;Where the good priest them christened,And gave her good kirking.

This ballad exemplifies a superstition deeply rooted in the belief of all the northern nations,—the desire of the Elves and Water-spirits for the love of Christians, and the danger of being exposed to their fascination. The object of their fatal passion is generally a bridegroom, or a bride, on the eve of marriage. See, in theAppendix,Sir Oluf and the Elf-King's Daughter, for further illustrations; also the two succeeding pieces.

Clerk Colvillwas first printed in Herd'sScottish Songs, (i. 217,) and was inserted, in an altered shape, in Lewis'sTales of Wonder, (No. 56.)

Clerk Colvill and his lusty dameWere walking in the garden green;The belt around her stately waistCost Clerk Colvill of pounds fifteen.5"O promise me now, Clerk Colvill,Or it will cost ye muckle strife,Ride never by the wells of Slane,If ye wad live and brook your life.""Now speak nae mair, my lusty dame,10Now speak nae mair of that to me:Did I ne'er see a fair woman,But I wad sin with her fair body?"He's ta'en leave o' his gay lady,Nought minding what his lady said,15And he's rode by the wells of Slane,Where washing was a bonny maid."Wash on, wash on, my bonny maid,That wash sae clean your sark of silk;""And weel fa' you, fair gentleman,20Your body's whiter than the milk."Then loud, loud cry'd the Clerk Colvill,"O my head it pains me sair;""Then take, then take," the maiden said,25"And frae my sark you'll cut a gare."Then she's gi'ed him a little bane-knife,And frae hersarkhe cut a share;She's ty'd it round his whey-white face,But ay his head it aked mair.30Then louder cry'd the Clerk Colvill,"O sairer, sairer akes my head;""And sairer, sairer ever will,"The maiden crys, "till you be dead."Out then he drew his shining blade,35Thinking to stick her where she stood;But she was vanish'd to a fish,And swam far off, a fair mermaid."O mother, mother, braid my hair;My lusty lady, make my bed;40O brother, take my sword and spear,For I have seen the false mermaid."

Clerk Colvill and his lusty dameWere walking in the garden green;The belt around her stately waistCost Clerk Colvill of pounds fifteen.

5"O promise me now, Clerk Colvill,Or it will cost ye muckle strife,Ride never by the wells of Slane,If ye wad live and brook your life."

"Now speak nae mair, my lusty dame,10Now speak nae mair of that to me:Did I ne'er see a fair woman,But I wad sin with her fair body?"

He's ta'en leave o' his gay lady,Nought minding what his lady said,15And he's rode by the wells of Slane,Where washing was a bonny maid.

"Wash on, wash on, my bonny maid,That wash sae clean your sark of silk;""And weel fa' you, fair gentleman,20Your body's whiter than the milk."

Then loud, loud cry'd the Clerk Colvill,"O my head it pains me sair;""Then take, then take," the maiden said,25"And frae my sark you'll cut a gare."

Then she's gi'ed him a little bane-knife,And frae hersarkhe cut a share;She's ty'd it round his whey-white face,But ay his head it aked mair.

30Then louder cry'd the Clerk Colvill,"O sairer, sairer akes my head;""And sairer, sairer ever will,"The maiden crys, "till you be dead."

Out then he drew his shining blade,35Thinking to stick her where she stood;But she was vanish'd to a fish,And swam far off, a fair mermaid.

"O mother, mother, braid my hair;My lusty lady, make my bed;40O brother, take my sword and spear,For I have seen the false mermaid."

27, his sark.

The hero of the first of the two following ballads would seem to be an Elf, that of the second a Nix, or Merman, though the punishment awarded to each of them in the catastrophe, as the ballads now exist, is not consistent with their supernatural character. It is possible that in both instances two independent stories have been blended: but it is curious that the same intermixture should occur in Norse and German also. See Grundtvig's preface toNoekkens Svig, ii. p. 57. The conclusion in all these cases is derived from a ballad resemblingMay Colvin, vol. ii. p. 272.

We have had the Elf-Knight introduced under the same circumstances at page 128; indeed, the first three or four stanzas are common to both pieces.

Fair lady Isabel sits in her bower sewing,Aye as the gowans grow gay;There she heard an elf-knight blawing his horn,The first morning in May.5"If I had yon horn that I hear blawing,"Aye as the gowans grow gay;"And yon elf-knight to sleep in my bosom,"The first morning in May.This maiden had scarcely these words spoken,10Aye as the gowans grow gay;Till in at her window the elf-knight has luppen,The first morning in May."Its a very strange matter, fair maiden," said he,Aye as the gowans grow gay,15"I canna' blaw my horn, but ye call on me,"The first morning in May."But will ye go to yon greenwood side,"Aye as the gowans grow gay?"If ye canna' gang, I will cause you to ride,"20The first morning in May.He leapt on a horse, and she on another,Aye as the gowans grow gay;And they rode on to the greenwood together,The first morning in May.25"Light down, light down, lady Isabel," said he,Aye as the gowans grow gay;"We are come to the place where ye are to die,"The first morning in May."Ha'e mercy, ha'e mercy, kind sir, on me,"30Aye as the gowans grow gay;"Till ance my dear father and mother I see,"The first morning in May."Seven king's-daughters here hae I slain,"Aye as the gowans grow gay;35"And ye shall be the eight o' them,"The first morning in May."O sit down a while, lay your head on my knee,"Aye as the gowans grow gay;"That we may hae some rest before that I die,"40The first morning in May.She stroak'd him sae fast, the nearer he did creep,Aye as the gowans grow gay;Wi' a sma' charm she lull'd him fast asleep,The first morning in May.45"Wi' his ain sword belt sae fast as she ban' him,Aye as the gowans grow gay;With his ain dag-durk sae sair as she dang him,The first morning in May."If seven kings' daughters here ye ha'e slain,"50Aye as the gowans grow gay,"Lye ye here, a husband to them a',"The first morning in May.

Fair lady Isabel sits in her bower sewing,Aye as the gowans grow gay;There she heard an elf-knight blawing his horn,The first morning in May.

5"If I had yon horn that I hear blawing,"Aye as the gowans grow gay;"And yon elf-knight to sleep in my bosom,"The first morning in May.

This maiden had scarcely these words spoken,10Aye as the gowans grow gay;Till in at her window the elf-knight has luppen,The first morning in May.

"Its a very strange matter, fair maiden," said he,Aye as the gowans grow gay,15"I canna' blaw my horn, but ye call on me,"The first morning in May.

"But will ye go to yon greenwood side,"Aye as the gowans grow gay?"If ye canna' gang, I will cause you to ride,"20The first morning in May.

He leapt on a horse, and she on another,Aye as the gowans grow gay;And they rode on to the greenwood together,The first morning in May.

25"Light down, light down, lady Isabel," said he,Aye as the gowans grow gay;"We are come to the place where ye are to die,"The first morning in May.

"Ha'e mercy, ha'e mercy, kind sir, on me,"30Aye as the gowans grow gay;"Till ance my dear father and mother I see,"The first morning in May.

"Seven king's-daughters here hae I slain,"Aye as the gowans grow gay;35"And ye shall be the eight o' them,"The first morning in May.

"O sit down a while, lay your head on my knee,"Aye as the gowans grow gay;"That we may hae some rest before that I die,"40The first morning in May.

She stroak'd him sae fast, the nearer he did creep,Aye as the gowans grow gay;Wi' a sma' charm she lull'd him fast asleep,The first morning in May.

45"Wi' his ain sword belt sae fast as she ban' him,Aye as the gowans grow gay;With his ain dag-durk sae sair as she dang him,The first morning in May.

"If seven kings' daughters here ye ha'e slain,"50Aye as the gowans grow gay,"Lye ye here, a husband to them a',"The first morning in May.

From Buchan'sBallads of the North of Scotland, ii. 201. Repeated in ScottishTraditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, Percy Society, xvii. 63.

The three ballads which follow, diverse as they may now appear, after undergoing successive corruptions, were primarily of the same type. In the first (which may be a compound of two ballads, like the preceding, the conclusion being taken from a story of the character ofMay Colvinin the next volume) the Merman or Nix may be easily recognized: in the second he is metamorphosed into the Devil; and in the third, into a ghost. Full details upon the corresponding Scandinavian, German, and Slavic legends, are given by Grundtvig, in the preface toNoekkens Svig, Danmarks G. Folkeviser, ii. 57: translated by Jamieson, i. 210, and by Monk Lewis,Tales of Wonder, No. 11.

There came a bird out o' a bush,On water for to dine;And sighing sair, says the king's daughter,"O waes this heart o' mine!"5He's taen a harp into his hand,He's harped them all asleep;Except it was the king's daughter,Who ae wink cou'dna get.He's luppen on his berry-brown steed,10Taen her on behind himsell;Then baith rade down to that water,That they ca' Wearie's well."Wide in, wide in, my lady fair,Nae harm shall thee befall;15Aft times hae I water'd my steed,Wi' the water o' Wearie's well."The first step that she stepped in,She stepped to the knee;And sighing sair, says this lady fair,20"This water's nae for me.""Wide in, wide in, my lady fair,Nae harm shall thee befall;Aft times hae I water'd my steed,Wi' the water o' Wearie's well."25The next step that she stepped in,She stepped to the middle;And sighing, says, this lady fair,"I've wat my gowden girdle.""Wide in, wide in, my lady fair,30Nae harm shall thee befall;Aft times hae I water'd my steed,Wi' the water o' Wearie's well."The niest step that she stepped in,She stepped to the chin;35And sighing, says, this lady fair,"They shou'd gar twa loves twine.""Seven king's-daughters I've drown'd there,In the water o' Wearie's well;And I'll make you the eight o' them,40And ring the common bell.""Sin' I am standing here," she says,"This dowie death to die;Ae kiss o' your comely mouthI'm sure wou'd comfort me."45He louted him ower his saddle bow,To kiss her cheek and chin;She's taen him in her arms twa,And thrown him headlang in."Sin' seven king's daughters ye've drown'd there,50In the water o' Wearie's well,I'll make you bridegroom to them a',An' ring the bell mysell."And aye she warsled, and aye she swam,Till she swam to dry land;55Then thanked God most cheerfully,The dangers she'd ower came.

There came a bird out o' a bush,On water for to dine;And sighing sair, says the king's daughter,"O waes this heart o' mine!"

5He's taen a harp into his hand,He's harped them all asleep;Except it was the king's daughter,Who ae wink cou'dna get.

He's luppen on his berry-brown steed,10Taen her on behind himsell;Then baith rade down to that water,That they ca' Wearie's well.

"Wide in, wide in, my lady fair,Nae harm shall thee befall;15Aft times hae I water'd my steed,Wi' the water o' Wearie's well."

The first step that she stepped in,She stepped to the knee;And sighing sair, says this lady fair,20"This water's nae for me."

"Wide in, wide in, my lady fair,Nae harm shall thee befall;Aft times hae I water'd my steed,Wi' the water o' Wearie's well."

25The next step that she stepped in,She stepped to the middle;And sighing, says, this lady fair,"I've wat my gowden girdle."

"Wide in, wide in, my lady fair,30Nae harm shall thee befall;Aft times hae I water'd my steed,Wi' the water o' Wearie's well."

The niest step that she stepped in,She stepped to the chin;35And sighing, says, this lady fair,"They shou'd gar twa loves twine."

"Seven king's-daughters I've drown'd there,In the water o' Wearie's well;And I'll make you the eight o' them,40And ring the common bell."

"Sin' I am standing here," she says,"This dowie death to die;Ae kiss o' your comely mouthI'm sure wou'd comfort me."

45He louted him ower his saddle bow,To kiss her cheek and chin;She's taen him in her arms twa,And thrown him headlang in.

"Sin' seven king's daughters ye've drown'd there,50In the water o' Wearie's well,I'll make you bridegroom to them a',An' ring the bell mysell."

And aye she warsled, and aye she swam,Till she swam to dry land;55Then thanked God most cheerfully,The dangers she'd ower came.

This ballad was communicated to Sir Walter Scott, (Minstrelsy,iii. 195,) by Mr. William Laidlaw, who took it down from recitation. A fragment of the same legend, recovered by Motherwell, is given in the Appendix to this volume, and another version, in which the hero is not a dæmon, but the ghost of an injured lover, is placed directly after the present.

The Devil (AuldNick) here takes the place of the Merman (Nix) of the ancient ballad. See p.198, and the same natural substitution noted inK.u.H.—Märchen, 3d ed. iii. 253.

"O where have you been, my long, long love,This long seven years and more?"—"O I'm come to seek my former vowsYe granted me before."—5"O hold your tongue of your former vows,For they will breed sad strife;O hold your tongue of your former vows,For I am become a wife."He turn'd him right and round about,10And the tear blinded his ee;"I wad never hae trodden on Irish ground,If it had not been for thee."I might hae had a king's daughter,Far, far beyond the sea;15I might have had a king's daughter,Had it not been for love o' thee."—"If ye might have had a king's daughter,Yer sell ye had to blame;Ye might have taken the king's daughter,20For ye kend that I was nane."—"O faulse are the vows of womankind,But fair is their faulse bodie;I never wad hae trodden on Irish ground,Had it not been for love o' thee."—25"If I was to leave my husband dear,And my two babes also,O what have you to take me to,If with you I should go?"—"I hae seven ships upon the sea,30The eighth brought me to land;With four-and-twenty bold mariners,And music on every hand."She has taken up her two little babes,Kiss'd them baith cheek and chin;35"O fair ye weel, my ain two babes,For I'll never see you again."She set her foot upon the ship,No mariners could she behold;But the sails were o' the taffetie,40And the masts o' the beaten gold.She had not sail'd a league, a league,A league but barely three,When dismal grew his countenance,And drumlie grew his ee.45The masts that were like the beaten gold,Bent not on the heaving seas;But the sails, that were o' the taffetie,Fill'd not in the east land breeze.—They had not sailed a league, a league,50A league but barely three,Until she espied his cloven foot,And she wept right bitterlie."O hold your tongue of your weeping," says he,"Of your weeping now let me be;55I will show you how the lilies growOn the banks of Italy."—"O what hills are yon, yon pleasant hills,That the sun shines sweetly on?"—"O yon are the hills of heaven," he said,60"Where you will never win."—"O whaten a mountain is yon," she said,"All so dreary wi' frost and snow?"—"O yon is the mountain of hell," he cried,"Where you and I will go."65And aye when she turn'd her round about,Aye taller he seem'd for to be;Until that the tops o' that gallant shipNae taller were than he.The clouds grew dark, and the wind grew loud,70And the levin fill'd her ee;And waesome wail'd the snaw-white spritesUpon the gurlie sea.He strack the tap-mast wi' his hand,The fore-mast wi' his knee;75And he brake that gallant ship in twain,And sank her in the sea.

"O where have you been, my long, long love,This long seven years and more?"—"O I'm come to seek my former vowsYe granted me before."—

5"O hold your tongue of your former vows,For they will breed sad strife;O hold your tongue of your former vows,For I am become a wife."

He turn'd him right and round about,10And the tear blinded his ee;"I wad never hae trodden on Irish ground,If it had not been for thee.

"I might hae had a king's daughter,Far, far beyond the sea;15I might have had a king's daughter,Had it not been for love o' thee."—

"If ye might have had a king's daughter,Yer sell ye had to blame;Ye might have taken the king's daughter,20For ye kend that I was nane."—

"O faulse are the vows of womankind,But fair is their faulse bodie;I never wad hae trodden on Irish ground,Had it not been for love o' thee."—

25"If I was to leave my husband dear,And my two babes also,O what have you to take me to,If with you I should go?"—

"I hae seven ships upon the sea,30The eighth brought me to land;With four-and-twenty bold mariners,And music on every hand."

She has taken up her two little babes,Kiss'd them baith cheek and chin;35"O fair ye weel, my ain two babes,For I'll never see you again."

She set her foot upon the ship,No mariners could she behold;But the sails were o' the taffetie,40And the masts o' the beaten gold.

She had not sail'd a league, a league,A league but barely three,When dismal grew his countenance,And drumlie grew his ee.

45The masts that were like the beaten gold,Bent not on the heaving seas;But the sails, that were o' the taffetie,Fill'd not in the east land breeze.—

They had not sailed a league, a league,50A league but barely three,Until she espied his cloven foot,And she wept right bitterlie.

"O hold your tongue of your weeping," says he,"Of your weeping now let me be;55I will show you how the lilies growOn the banks of Italy."—

"O what hills are yon, yon pleasant hills,That the sun shines sweetly on?"—"O yon are the hills of heaven," he said,60"Where you will never win."—

"O whaten a mountain is yon," she said,"All so dreary wi' frost and snow?"—"O yon is the mountain of hell," he cried,"Where you and I will go."

65And aye when she turn'd her round about,Aye taller he seem'd for to be;Until that the tops o' that gallant shipNae taller were than he.

The clouds grew dark, and the wind grew loud,70And the levin fill'd her ee;And waesome wail'd the snaw-white spritesUpon the gurlie sea.

He strack the tap-mast wi' his hand,The fore-mast wi' his knee;75And he brake that gallant ship in twain,And sank her in the sea.

"O are ye my father, or are ye my mother?Or are ye my brother John?Or are ye James Herries, my first true love,Come back to Scotland again?"5"I am not your father, I am not your mother,Nor am I your brother John;But I'm James Herries, your first true love,Come back to Scotland again.""Awa', awa', ye former lovers,10Had far awa' frae me;For now I am another man's wife,Ye'll ne'er see joy o' me.""Had I kent that ere I came here,I ne'er had come to thee;15For I might hae married the king's daughter,Sae fain she wou'd had me."I despised the crown o' gold,The yellow silk also;And I am come to my true love,20But with me she'll not go.""My husband he is a carpenter,Makes his bread on dry land,And I hae born him a young son,—Wi' you I will not gang."25"You must forsake your dear husband,Your little young son also,Wi' me to sail the raging seas,Where the stormy winds do blow.""O what hae you to keep me wi',30If I should with you go?If I'd forsake my dear husband,My little young son also?""See ye not yon seven pretty ships,The eighth brought me to land;35With merchandize and mariners,And wealth in every hand?"She turn'd her round upon the shore,Her love's ships to behold;Their topmasts and their mainyards40Were cover'd o'er wi' gold.Then she's gane to her little young son,And kiss'd him cheek and chin;Sae has she to her sleeping husband,And dune the same to him.45"O sleep ye, wake ye, my husband,I wish ye wake in time;I woudna for ten thousand pounds,This night ye knew my mind."She's drawn the slippers on her feet,50Were cover'd o'er wi' gold;Well lined within wi' velvet fine,To had her frae the cold.She hadna sailed upon the seaA league but barely three,55Till she minded on her dear husband,Her little young son tee."O gin I were at land again,At land where I wou'd be,The woman ne'er shou'd bear the son,60Shou'd gar me sail the sea.""O hold your tongue, my sprightly flower,Let a' your mourning be;I'll show you how the lilies growOn the banks o' Italy."65She hadna sailed on the seaA day but barely ane,Till the thoughts o' grief came in her mind,And she lang'd for to be hame."O gentle death, come cut my breath,70I may be dead ere morn;I may be buried in Scottish ground,Where I was bred and born.""O hold your tongue, my lily leesome thing,Let a' your mourning be;75But for a while we'll stay at Rose Isle,Then see a far countrie."Ye'se ne'er be buried in Scottish ground,Nor land ye's nae mair see;I brought you away to punish you,80For the breaking your vows to me."I said ye shou'd see the lilies growOn the banks o' Italy;But I'll let you see the fishes swim,In the bottom o' the sea."85He reached his band to the topmast,Made a' the sails gae down;And in the twinkling o' an e'e,Baith ship and crew did drown.The fatal flight o' this wretched maid90Did reach her ain countrie;Her husband then distracted ran,And this lament made he:—"O wae be to the ship, the ship,And wae be to the sea,95And wae be to the mariners,Took Jeanie Douglas frae me!"O bonny, bonny was my love,A pleasure to behold;The very hair o' my love's head100Was like the threads o' gold."O bonny was her cheek, her cheek,And bonny was her chin;And bonny was the bride she was,The day she was made mine!"*** The following stanzas from a version of this ballad printed at Philadelphia (and calledThe House Carpenter) are given in Graham'sIllustrated Magazine, Sept. 1858."I might have married the king's daughter dear;""You might have married her," cried she,"For I am married to a House Carpenter,And a fine young man is he.""Oh dry up your tears, my own true love,And cease your weeping," cried he;"For soon you'll see your own happy home,On the banks of old Tennessee."

"O are ye my father, or are ye my mother?Or are ye my brother John?Or are ye James Herries, my first true love,Come back to Scotland again?"

5"I am not your father, I am not your mother,Nor am I your brother John;But I'm James Herries, your first true love,Come back to Scotland again."

"Awa', awa', ye former lovers,10Had far awa' frae me;For now I am another man's wife,Ye'll ne'er see joy o' me."

"Had I kent that ere I came here,I ne'er had come to thee;15For I might hae married the king's daughter,Sae fain she wou'd had me.

"I despised the crown o' gold,The yellow silk also;And I am come to my true love,20But with me she'll not go."

"My husband he is a carpenter,Makes his bread on dry land,And I hae born him a young son,—Wi' you I will not gang."

25"You must forsake your dear husband,Your little young son also,Wi' me to sail the raging seas,Where the stormy winds do blow."

"O what hae you to keep me wi',30If I should with you go?If I'd forsake my dear husband,My little young son also?"

"See ye not yon seven pretty ships,The eighth brought me to land;35With merchandize and mariners,And wealth in every hand?"

She turn'd her round upon the shore,Her love's ships to behold;Their topmasts and their mainyards40Were cover'd o'er wi' gold.

Then she's gane to her little young son,And kiss'd him cheek and chin;Sae has she to her sleeping husband,And dune the same to him.

45"O sleep ye, wake ye, my husband,I wish ye wake in time;I woudna for ten thousand pounds,This night ye knew my mind."

She's drawn the slippers on her feet,50Were cover'd o'er wi' gold;Well lined within wi' velvet fine,To had her frae the cold.

She hadna sailed upon the seaA league but barely three,55Till she minded on her dear husband,Her little young son tee.

"O gin I were at land again,At land where I wou'd be,The woman ne'er shou'd bear the son,60Shou'd gar me sail the sea."

"O hold your tongue, my sprightly flower,Let a' your mourning be;I'll show you how the lilies growOn the banks o' Italy."

65She hadna sailed on the seaA day but barely ane,Till the thoughts o' grief came in her mind,And she lang'd for to be hame.

"O gentle death, come cut my breath,70I may be dead ere morn;I may be buried in Scottish ground,Where I was bred and born."

"O hold your tongue, my lily leesome thing,Let a' your mourning be;75But for a while we'll stay at Rose Isle,Then see a far countrie.

"Ye'se ne'er be buried in Scottish ground,Nor land ye's nae mair see;I brought you away to punish you,80For the breaking your vows to me.

"I said ye shou'd see the lilies growOn the banks o' Italy;But I'll let you see the fishes swim,In the bottom o' the sea."

85He reached his band to the topmast,Made a' the sails gae down;And in the twinkling o' an e'e,Baith ship and crew did drown.

The fatal flight o' this wretched maid90Did reach her ain countrie;Her husband then distracted ran,And this lament made he:—

"O wae be to the ship, the ship,And wae be to the sea,95And wae be to the mariners,Took Jeanie Douglas frae me!

"O bonny, bonny was my love,A pleasure to behold;The very hair o' my love's head100Was like the threads o' gold.

"O bonny was her cheek, her cheek,And bonny was her chin;And bonny was the bride she was,The day she was made mine!"

*** The following stanzas from a version of this ballad printed at Philadelphia (and calledThe House Carpenter) are given in Graham'sIllustrated Magazine, Sept. 1858.

"I might have married the king's daughter dear;""You might have married her," cried she,"For I am married to a House Carpenter,And a fine young man is he."

"Oh dry up your tears, my own true love,And cease your weeping," cried he;"For soon you'll see your own happy home,On the banks of old Tennessee."

"There is a fashion in this land,And even come to this country,That every lady should meet her lord,When he is newly come frae sea:5"Some wi' hawks, and some wi' hounds,And other some wi' gay monie;But I will gae myself alone,And set his young son on his knee."She's ta'en her young son in her arms,10And nimbly walk'd by yon sea strand;And there she spy'd her father's ship,As she was sailing to dry land."Where hae ye put my ain gude lord,This day he stays sae far frae me?"15"If ye be wanting your ain gude lord,A sight o' him ye'll never see.""Was he brunt, or was he shot?Or was he drowned in the sea?Or what's become o' my ain gude lord,20That he will ne'er appear to me?""He wasna brunt, nor was he shot,Nor was he drowned in the sea;He was slain in Dumfermling,A fatal day to you and me."25"Come in, come in, my merry young men,Come in and drink the wine wi' me;And a' the better ye shall fare,For this gude news ye tell to me."She's brought them down to yon cellar,30She brought them fifty steps and three;She birled wi' them the beer and wine,Till they were as drunk as drunk could be.Then she has lock'd her cellar door,For there were fifty steps and three;35"Lie there wi' my sad malison,For this bad news ye've tauld to me."She's ta'en the keys intill her hand,And threw them deep, deep in the sea;"Lie there wi' my sad malison,40Till my gude lord return to me."Then she sat down in her own room,And sorrow lull'd her fast asleep;And up it starts her own gude lord,And even at that lady's feet.45"Take here the keys, Janet," he says,"That ye threw deep, deep in the sea;And ye'll relieve my merry young men,For they've nane o' the swick o' me."They shot the shot, and drew the stroke,50And wad in red bluid to the knee;Nae sailors mair for their lord coud do,Nor my young men they did for me.""I hae a question at you to ask,Before that ye depart frae me;55You'll tell to me what day I'll die,And what day will my burial be?""I hae nae mair o' God's powerThan he has granted unto me;But come to heaven when ye will,60There porter to you I will be."But ye'll be wed to a finer knightThan ever was in my degree;Unto him ye'll hae children nine,And six o' them will be ladies free.65"The other three will be bold young men,To fight for king and countrie;The ane a duke, the second a knight,And third a laird o' lands sae free."

"There is a fashion in this land,And even come to this country,That every lady should meet her lord,When he is newly come frae sea:

5"Some wi' hawks, and some wi' hounds,And other some wi' gay monie;But I will gae myself alone,And set his young son on his knee."

She's ta'en her young son in her arms,10And nimbly walk'd by yon sea strand;And there she spy'd her father's ship,As she was sailing to dry land.

"Where hae ye put my ain gude lord,This day he stays sae far frae me?"15"If ye be wanting your ain gude lord,A sight o' him ye'll never see."

"Was he brunt, or was he shot?Or was he drowned in the sea?Or what's become o' my ain gude lord,20That he will ne'er appear to me?"

"He wasna brunt, nor was he shot,Nor was he drowned in the sea;He was slain in Dumfermling,A fatal day to you and me."

25"Come in, come in, my merry young men,Come in and drink the wine wi' me;And a' the better ye shall fare,For this gude news ye tell to me."

She's brought them down to yon cellar,30She brought them fifty steps and three;She birled wi' them the beer and wine,Till they were as drunk as drunk could be.

Then she has lock'd her cellar door,For there were fifty steps and three;35"Lie there wi' my sad malison,For this bad news ye've tauld to me."

She's ta'en the keys intill her hand,And threw them deep, deep in the sea;"Lie there wi' my sad malison,40Till my gude lord return to me."

Then she sat down in her own room,And sorrow lull'd her fast asleep;And up it starts her own gude lord,And even at that lady's feet.

45"Take here the keys, Janet," he says,"That ye threw deep, deep in the sea;And ye'll relieve my merry young men,For they've nane o' the swick o' me.

"They shot the shot, and drew the stroke,50And wad in red bluid to the knee;Nae sailors mair for their lord coud do,Nor my young men they did for me."

"I hae a question at you to ask,Before that ye depart frae me;55You'll tell to me what day I'll die,And what day will my burial be?"

"I hae nae mair o' God's powerThan he has granted unto me;But come to heaven when ye will,60There porter to you I will be.

"But ye'll be wed to a finer knightThan ever was in my degree;Unto him ye'll hae children nine,And six o' them will be ladies free.

65"The other three will be bold young men,To fight for king and countrie;The ane a duke, the second a knight,And third a laird o' lands sae free."

That the repose of the dead is disturbed by the immoderate grief of those they have left behind them, is a belief which finds frequent expression in popular ballads. Obstinate sorrow rouses them from their grateful slumber; every tear that is shed for them wets their shroud; they can get no rest, and are compelled to revisit the world they would fain forget, to rebuke and forbid the mourning that destroys their peace.

"Ice-cold and bloody, a lead-weight of sorrow, falls on my breast each tear that you shed,"

says the ghost of Helgi in theEddato his lamenting wife (Helgak. Hundingsb.II.) The same idea is found in the German ballad,Der Vorwirth, Erk'sLiederhort, No. 46, 46 a, and in various tales, asDas Todtenhemdchen, (K.u.H. Märchen, No. 109, and note), etc. In like manner Sir Aage, in a well-known Danish ballad (Grundtvig, No. 90), and the correspondingSorgens Magt, Svenska F.V., No. 6.

"Every time thou weepest for me,Thy heart makest sad,Then all within, my coffin stands fullOf clotted blood."

Rarely is the silence of the grave broken for purposes of consolation. Yet some cases there are, as in a Lithuanian ballad cited by Wackernagel,Altd. Blätter, i. 176, and a Spanish ballad noticed by Talvj,Versuch, p. 141. The present ballad seems to belong to the latter class rather than the former, but it is so imperfect that its true character cannot be determined.

Chambers maintains, we think erroneously, that this ballad is a fragment ofThe Clerk's Twa Sons o' Owsenford. See the second volume of this collection, page 63.

There lived a wife at Usher's Well,And a wealthy wife was she,She had three stout and stalwart sons,And sent them o'er the sea.5They hadna been a week from her,A week but barely ane,When word came to the carline wife,That her three sons were gane.They hadna been a week from her,10A week but barely three,When word came to the carline wife,That her sons she'd never see."I wish the wind may never cease,Norfishesin the flood,15Till my three sons come hame to me,In earthly flesh and blood."—It fell about the Martinmas,When nights are lang and mirk,The carline wife's three sons came hame,20And their hats were o' the birk.It neither grew in syke nor ditch,Nor yet in ony sheugh;But at the gates o' Paradise,That birk grew fair eneugh.25"Blow up the fire, my maidens!Bring water from the well!For a' my house shall feast this night,Since my three sons are well."—And she has made to them a bed,30She's made it large and wide;And she's ta'en her mantle her about,Sat down at the bed-side.35Up then crew the red red cock,And up and crew the gray;The eldest to the youngest said,"'Tis time we were away."—The cock he hadna craw'd but once,40And clapp'd his wings at a',Whan the youngest to the eldest said,"Brother, we must awa.—"The cock doth craw, the day doth daw,The channerin' worm doth chide;45Gin we be mist out o' our place,A sair pain we maun bide."Fare ye weel, my mother dear!Fareweel to barn and byre!And fare ye weel, the bonny lass,50That kindles my mother's fire."

There lived a wife at Usher's Well,And a wealthy wife was she,She had three stout and stalwart sons,And sent them o'er the sea.

5They hadna been a week from her,A week but barely ane,When word came to the carline wife,That her three sons were gane.

They hadna been a week from her,10A week but barely three,When word came to the carline wife,That her sons she'd never see.

"I wish the wind may never cease,Norfishesin the flood,15Till my three sons come hame to me,In earthly flesh and blood."—

It fell about the Martinmas,When nights are lang and mirk,The carline wife's three sons came hame,20And their hats were o' the birk.

It neither grew in syke nor ditch,Nor yet in ony sheugh;But at the gates o' Paradise,That birk grew fair eneugh.

25"Blow up the fire, my maidens!Bring water from the well!For a' my house shall feast this night,Since my three sons are well."—And she has made to them a bed,30She's made it large and wide;And she's ta'en her mantle her about,Sat down at the bed-side.

35Up then crew the red red cock,And up and crew the gray;The eldest to the youngest said,"'Tis time we were away."—

The cock he hadna craw'd but once,40And clapp'd his wings at a',Whan the youngest to the eldest said,"Brother, we must awa.—

"The cock doth craw, the day doth daw,The channerin' worm doth chide;45Gin we be mist out o' our place,A sair pain we maun bide.

"Fare ye weel, my mother dear!Fareweel to barn and byre!And fare ye weel, the bonny lass,50That kindles my mother's fire."

14. Should we not read, forfisheshere,fashes— i. e. troubles?—Lockhart.

Or, a relation of a young man, who, a month after his death, appeared to his sweetheart, and carried her on horseback behind him for forty miles in two hours, and was never seen after but in his grave.

FromA Collection of Old Ballads, i. 266. In Moore'sPictorial Book of Ancient Ballad Poetry(p. 463) is a copy from a broadside in the Roxburghe collection.

The Suffolk Miraclehas an external resemblance to several noble ballads, but the likeness does not extend below the surface. It is possible that we have here the residuum of an old poem, from which all the beauty and spirit have been exhaled in the course of tradition; but as the ballad now exists, it is a vulgar ghost-story, without any motive. Regarding the external form alone, we may place by its side the Breton ballad,Le Frère de Lait, in Villemarqué'sChants Populaires de la Bretagne, vol. i. No. 22 (translated by Miss Costello,Quart. Review, vol. 68, p. 75), the Romaic ballad ofConstantine and Arete, in Fauriel'sChants Populaires de la Grèce Moderne, p. 406 (see Appendix), and the Servian ballad (related to the Romaic, and perhaps derived from it),Jelitza and her Brothers, Talvj,Volkslieder der Serben, i. 160, all of them among the most beautiful specimens in this kind of literature; and also Bürger'sLenore. It has beenonce or twice most absurdly suggested thatLenoreowed its existence to thisSuffolk Miracle. The difference, indeed, is not greater than between a "Chronicle History" andMacbeth; it is however certain that Bürger's ballad is all his own, except the hint of the ghostly horseman and one or two phrases, which he took from the description of a Low German ballad. The editors of theWunderhornclaim to give this ballad, vol. ii. p. 19. An equivalent prose tradition is well known in Germany. Most of the ballads relating to the return of departed spirits are brought together in an excellent article by Wackernagel in theAltdeutsche Blätter, i. 174.

Back to Index Next