APPENDIX.

7 stands 15 in the MS.82.golden green, if my copy is right.112,3are 113,2in the MS.: the order of words is still not simple enough for a ballad.144. goe.Jamieson has a few variations, which I suppose to be his own.11. oer yonder bank.34. your like.44. And I am come here to.64. Her steed.82. garden,rightly.102. clarry.112. Lay your head.121. see you not.124. there's few.13. see ye not yon.141. see ye not.142. Which winds.

7 stands 15 in the MS.

82.golden green, if my copy is right.

112,3are 113,2in the MS.: the order of words is still not simple enough for a ballad.

144. goe.

Jamieson has a few variations, which I suppose to be his own.

11. oer yonder bank.

34. your like.

44. And I am come here to.

64. Her steed.

82. garden,rightly.

102. clarry.

112. Lay your head.

121. see you not.

124. there's few.

13. see ye not yon.

141. see ye not.

142. Which winds.

32. her knee.33. thou save.121.MS. perhapsunto.131,2follow st. 12 without separation.

32. her knee.

33. thou save.

121.MS. perhapsunto.

131,2follow st. 12 without separation.

201. a cloth.

Thornton MS., leaf 149, back, as printed by Dr. J. A. H. Murray.[A prologue of six stanzas, found only in the Thornton MS., is omitted, as being, even if genuine, not to the present purpose.]

Thornton MS., leaf 149, back, as printed by Dr. J. A. H. Murray.

[A prologue of six stanzas, found only in the Thornton MS., is omitted, as being, even if genuine, not to the present purpose.]

1Als I me wente þis endres daye,Ffull faste inmynd makand my mone,In a mery mornynge of Maye,By Huntle bankkes my selfe allone,2I herde þe jaye and þe throstelle,The mawys menyde of hir songe,þe wodewale beryde als a belle,That alle þe wode a-bowte me ronge.3Allonne in longynge thus als I laye,Vndyre-nethe a semely tre,[Saw] I whare a lady gaye[Came ridand] ouera longe lee.4If I solde sytt to domesdaye,Withmy tonge to wrobbe and wrye,Certanely þat lady gayeNeuerbese scho askryede for mee.5Hir palfraye was a dappill graye,Swylke one ne saghe I neuernone;Als dose þe sonne on someres daye,þat faire lady hir selfe scho schone.6Hir selle it was of roelle bone,Ffull semely was þat syghte to see;Stefly sett withprecyous stones,And compaste all with crapotee;7Stones of oryente, grete plente.Hir hare abowte hir hede it hange;Scho rade ouerþat lange lee;A whylle scho blewe, a-noþerscho sange.8Hir garthes of nobyll sylke þay were,The bukylls were of berelle stone,Hir steraps were of crystalle clere,And all withperelle ouer-by-gone.9Hir payetrelle was of irale fyne,Hir cropoure was of orpharë,And als clere golde hir brydill it schone;One aythir syde hange bellys three.10[Scho ledthreegrehoundis in a leesshe,]And seueneraches by hir þay rone;Scho bare an horne abowte hir halse,And vndir hir belte full many a flone.11Thomas laye and sawe þat syghte,Vndir-nethe ane semly tree;He sayd, ȝone es Marye, moste of myghte,Þat bare þat childe þat dyede for mee.12Bot if I speke withȝone lady bryghte,I hope myneherte will bryste inthree;Now sall I go withall my myghte,Hir for to mete at Eldounetree.13Thomas rathely vpe he rase,And he rane ouerþat mountayne hye;Gyff it be als the storye sayes,He hir mette at Eldone tree.14He knelyde downeapponehis knee,Vndir-nethe þat grenwode spraye,And sayd, Lufly ladye, rewe one mee,Qwene of heuene, als þou wele maye!15Then spake þat lady milde of thoghte:Thomas, late swylke wordes bee;Qwene of heuenene am I noghte,Ffor I tuke neuerso heghe degre.16Bote I ame of ane oþercountree,If I be payrelde moste of pryse;I ryde aftyre this wylde fee;My raches rynnys at my devyse.'17'If þou be parelde moste of pryse,And here rydis thus in thy folye,Of lufe, lady, als þou erte wyse,Þou gyffe me leue to lye the bye.'18Scho sayde, þou mane, þat ware folye;I praye þe, Thomas, þou late me bee;Ffor I saye þe full sekirlye,Þat synne will fordoo all my beaute.19'Now, lufly ladye, rewe one mee,And I will euermore withthe duelle;Here my trouthe I will the plyghte,Whethir þou will in heueneor helle.'20'Mane of molde, þou will me marre,But ȝitt þou sall hafe all thy will;And trowe it wele, þou chewys þe werre,Ffor alle my beaute will þou spylle.'21Downeþanelyghte þat lady bryghte,Vndir-nethe þat grenewode spraye;And, als the storye tellis full ryghte,Seuenesythis by hir he laye.22Scho sayd, Mane, the lykes thy playe:Whate byrde in boure maye delle withthe?Thou merrys me all þis longe daye;I pray the, Thomas, late me bee.23Thomas stode vpe inþat stede,And he by-helde þat lady gaye;Hir hare it hange all ouerhir hede,Hir eghne semede owte, þat are were graye.24And alle þe riche clothynge was a-waye,Þat he by-fore sawe inþat stede;Hir a schanke blake, hir oþer graye,And all hir body lyke the lede.25Thomas laye, and sawe þat syghte,Vndir-nethe þat grenewod tree.. . . . . . .. . . . . . .26Þan said Thomas, Allas! allas!In faythe þis es a dullfull syghte;How arte þou fadyde þus inþe face,Þat schane by-fore als þe sonne so bryght[e]!27Scho sayd, Thomas, take leue at sone and mon[e],And als at lefe þat grewes on tree;This twelmoneth sall þou withme gone,And medill-erthe sall þou none see.'28He knelyd downe apponehis knee,Vndir-nethe þat grenewod spraye,And sayd, Lufly lady, rewe on mee,Mylde qwene of heuene, als þou beste maye!29'Allas!' he sayd, 'and wa es mee!I trowe my dedis wyll wirke me care;My saulle, Jhesu, by-teche I the,Whedir-some þat euermy banes sall fare.'30Scho ledde hymin at Eldone hill,Vndir-nethe a derne lee,Whare it was dirke as mydnyght myrke,And euerþe water till his knee.31The montenans of dayes three,He herd bot swoghynge of þe flode;At þe laste he sayde, Full wa es mee!Almaste I dye, for fawte of f[ode.]32Scho lede hymin-till a faire herbere,Whare frwte was g[ro]wan[d gret plentee];Pere and appill, bothe ryppe þay were,The date, and als the damasee.33Þe fygge, and alsso þe wyneberye,The nyghtgales byggande on þair neste;Þe papeioyes faste abowte ganeflye,And throstylls sange, wolde hafe no reste.34He pressede to pulle frowte withhis hande,Als manefor fude þat was nere faynt;Scho sayd, Thomas, þou late þamestande,Or ells þe fende the will atteynt.35If þou it plokk, sothely to saye,Thi saule gose to þe fyre of helle;It commes neuerowte or domesdaye,Bot þerin payne ay for to duelle.36Thomas, sothely I the hyghte,Come lygge thynehede downeon my knee,And [þou] sall se þe fayreste syghteÞat euersawe maneof thi contree.37He did in hye als scho hym badde;Appone hir knee his hede he layde,Ffor hir to paye he was full glade;And þaneþat lady to hymsayde:38Seese þou nowe ȝone faire waye,Þat lygges ouerȝone heghe mountayne?ȝone es þe waye to heuenefor aye,Whenesynfull sawles are passed þer payne.39Seese þou nowe ȝone oþerwaye,Þat lygges lawe by-nethe ȝone rysse?ȝone es þe waye, þe sothe to saye,Vn-to þe joye of paradyse.40Seese þou ȝitt ȝone thirde waye,Þat ligges vndir ȝone grene playne?ȝone es þe waye, withtene and traye,Whare synfull saulis suffirris þaire payne.41Bot seese þou nowe ȝone ferthe waye,Þat lygges ouerȝone depe delle?ȝone es þe waye, so waylawaye!Vn-to þe birnande fyre of helle.42Seese þou ȝitt ȝone faire castelle,[Þat standis ouer] ȝone heghe hill?Of towne and towre it beris þe belle;In erthe es none lyke it vn-till.43Ffor sothe, Thomas, ȝone es myneawenne,And þe kynges of this countree;Bot me ware leuerbe hanged and drawene,Or þat he wyste þou laye by me.44When þou commes to ȝone castelle gay,I pray þe curtase maneto bee;And whate so any maneto þe saye,Luke þou answere none bott mee.45 My lorde es seruede at ylk a meseWiththritty knyghttis faire and free;I sall saye, syttande at the desse,I tuke thi speche by-ȝonde the see46Thomas still als stane he stude,And he by-helde þat lady gaye;Scho come agayne als faire and gude,And also ryche one hir palfraye.47Hir grewehundis fillide withdere blode,Hir raches couplede, by my faye;Scho blewe hir horne withmayne and mode,Vn-to þe castelle scho tuke þe waye.48In-to þe haulle sothely scho went,Thomas foloued at hir hande;Than ladyes come, bothe faire and gent,With curtassye to hir knelande.49Harpe and fethill bothe þay fande,Getterne, and als so þe sawtrye;Lutte and ryhyne bothe gangande,And all manere of mynstralsye.50Þe most meruelle þat Thomas thoghte,Wheneþat he stode apponethe flore;Ffor feftty hertis in were broghte,Þat were bothe grete and store.51Raches laye lapande in þe blode,Cokes come withdryssynge knyfe;Thay brittened þameals þay were wode;Reuelle amanges þame was full ryfe.52Knyghtis dawnesede by three and three,There was revelle, gameneand playe;Lufly ladyes, faire and free,That satte and sange one riche araye.53Thomas duellide inthat solaceMore þaneI ȝowe saye, parde,Till one a daye, so hafe I grace,My lufly lady sayde to mee:54Do buske the, Thomas, þe buse agayne,Ffor þou may here no lengare be;Hye the faste, withmyghte and mayne,I sall the brynge till Eldone tree.55Thomas sayde þane, withheuy chere,Lufly lady, nowe late me bee;Ffor certis, lady, I hafe bene hereNoghte bot þe space of dayes three.56'Ffor sothe, Thomas, als I þe telle,Þou hase bene here thre ȝere and more;Bot langere here þou may noghte duelle;The skylle I sall þe telle whare-fore.57'To morne of helle þe foulle fendeAmange this folke will feche his fee;And þou arte mekill maneand hende;I trowe full wele he wolde chese the.58'Ffor alle þe gold þat euer may bee,Ffro hethynevn-to þe worldis ende,Þou bese neuerbe-trayede for mee;Þerefore withme I rede thou wende.'59Scho broghte hymagayne to Eldone tree,Vndir-nethe þat grenewode spraye;In Huntlee bannkes es mery to bee,Whare fowles synges bothe nyght and daye.60'Fferre owtt in ȝone mountane graye,Thomas, my fawkonebygges a neste;A fawconnees an erlis praye;Ffor-thi in na place may he reste.61'Ffare well, Thomas, I wend my waye,Ffor me by-houys ouerthir benttis browne:'Loo here a fytt: more es to saye,All of Thomas of Erselldowne.

1Als I me wente þis endres daye,Ffull faste inmynd makand my mone,In a mery mornynge of Maye,By Huntle bankkes my selfe allone,

2I herde þe jaye and þe throstelle,The mawys menyde of hir songe,þe wodewale beryde als a belle,That alle þe wode a-bowte me ronge.

3Allonne in longynge thus als I laye,Vndyre-nethe a semely tre,[Saw] I whare a lady gaye[Came ridand] ouera longe lee.

4If I solde sytt to domesdaye,Withmy tonge to wrobbe and wrye,Certanely þat lady gayeNeuerbese scho askryede for mee.

5Hir palfraye was a dappill graye,Swylke one ne saghe I neuernone;Als dose þe sonne on someres daye,þat faire lady hir selfe scho schone.

6Hir selle it was of roelle bone,Ffull semely was þat syghte to see;Stefly sett withprecyous stones,And compaste all with crapotee;

7Stones of oryente, grete plente.Hir hare abowte hir hede it hange;Scho rade ouerþat lange lee;A whylle scho blewe, a-noþerscho sange.

8Hir garthes of nobyll sylke þay were,The bukylls were of berelle stone,Hir steraps were of crystalle clere,And all withperelle ouer-by-gone.

9Hir payetrelle was of irale fyne,Hir cropoure was of orpharë,And als clere golde hir brydill it schone;One aythir syde hange bellys three.

10[Scho ledthreegrehoundis in a leesshe,]And seueneraches by hir þay rone;Scho bare an horne abowte hir halse,And vndir hir belte full many a flone.

11Thomas laye and sawe þat syghte,Vndir-nethe ane semly tree;He sayd, ȝone es Marye, moste of myghte,Þat bare þat childe þat dyede for mee.

12Bot if I speke withȝone lady bryghte,I hope myneherte will bryste inthree;Now sall I go withall my myghte,Hir for to mete at Eldounetree.

13Thomas rathely vpe he rase,And he rane ouerþat mountayne hye;Gyff it be als the storye sayes,He hir mette at Eldone tree.

14He knelyde downeapponehis knee,Vndir-nethe þat grenwode spraye,And sayd, Lufly ladye, rewe one mee,Qwene of heuene, als þou wele maye!

15Then spake þat lady milde of thoghte:Thomas, late swylke wordes bee;Qwene of heuenene am I noghte,Ffor I tuke neuerso heghe degre.

16Bote I ame of ane oþercountree,If I be payrelde moste of pryse;I ryde aftyre this wylde fee;My raches rynnys at my devyse.'

17'If þou be parelde moste of pryse,And here rydis thus in thy folye,Of lufe, lady, als þou erte wyse,Þou gyffe me leue to lye the bye.'

18Scho sayde, þou mane, þat ware folye;I praye þe, Thomas, þou late me bee;Ffor I saye þe full sekirlye,Þat synne will fordoo all my beaute.

19'Now, lufly ladye, rewe one mee,And I will euermore withthe duelle;Here my trouthe I will the plyghte,Whethir þou will in heueneor helle.'

20'Mane of molde, þou will me marre,But ȝitt þou sall hafe all thy will;And trowe it wele, þou chewys þe werre,Ffor alle my beaute will þou spylle.'

21Downeþanelyghte þat lady bryghte,Vndir-nethe þat grenewode spraye;And, als the storye tellis full ryghte,Seuenesythis by hir he laye.

22Scho sayd, Mane, the lykes thy playe:Whate byrde in boure maye delle withthe?Thou merrys me all þis longe daye;I pray the, Thomas, late me bee.

23Thomas stode vpe inþat stede,And he by-helde þat lady gaye;Hir hare it hange all ouerhir hede,Hir eghne semede owte, þat are were graye.

24And alle þe riche clothynge was a-waye,Þat he by-fore sawe inþat stede;Hir a schanke blake, hir oþer graye,And all hir body lyke the lede.

25Thomas laye, and sawe þat syghte,Vndir-nethe þat grenewod tree.. . . . . . .. . . . . . .

26Þan said Thomas, Allas! allas!In faythe þis es a dullfull syghte;How arte þou fadyde þus inþe face,Þat schane by-fore als þe sonne so bryght[e]!

27Scho sayd, Thomas, take leue at sone and mon[e],And als at lefe þat grewes on tree;This twelmoneth sall þou withme gone,And medill-erthe sall þou none see.'

28He knelyd downe apponehis knee,Vndir-nethe þat grenewod spraye,And sayd, Lufly lady, rewe on mee,Mylde qwene of heuene, als þou beste maye!

29'Allas!' he sayd, 'and wa es mee!I trowe my dedis wyll wirke me care;My saulle, Jhesu, by-teche I the,Whedir-some þat euermy banes sall fare.'

30Scho ledde hymin at Eldone hill,Vndir-nethe a derne lee,Whare it was dirke as mydnyght myrke,And euerþe water till his knee.

31The montenans of dayes three,He herd bot swoghynge of þe flode;At þe laste he sayde, Full wa es mee!Almaste I dye, for fawte of f[ode.]

32Scho lede hymin-till a faire herbere,Whare frwte was g[ro]wan[d gret plentee];Pere and appill, bothe ryppe þay were,The date, and als the damasee.

33Þe fygge, and alsso þe wyneberye,The nyghtgales byggande on þair neste;Þe papeioyes faste abowte ganeflye,And throstylls sange, wolde hafe no reste.

34He pressede to pulle frowte withhis hande,Als manefor fude þat was nere faynt;Scho sayd, Thomas, þou late þamestande,Or ells þe fende the will atteynt.

35If þou it plokk, sothely to saye,Thi saule gose to þe fyre of helle;It commes neuerowte or domesdaye,Bot þerin payne ay for to duelle.

36Thomas, sothely I the hyghte,Come lygge thynehede downeon my knee,And [þou] sall se þe fayreste syghteÞat euersawe maneof thi contree.

37He did in hye als scho hym badde;Appone hir knee his hede he layde,Ffor hir to paye he was full glade;And þaneþat lady to hymsayde:

38Seese þou nowe ȝone faire waye,Þat lygges ouerȝone heghe mountayne?ȝone es þe waye to heuenefor aye,Whenesynfull sawles are passed þer payne.

39Seese þou nowe ȝone oþerwaye,Þat lygges lawe by-nethe ȝone rysse?ȝone es þe waye, þe sothe to saye,Vn-to þe joye of paradyse.

40Seese þou ȝitt ȝone thirde waye,Þat ligges vndir ȝone grene playne?ȝone es þe waye, withtene and traye,Whare synfull saulis suffirris þaire payne.

41Bot seese þou nowe ȝone ferthe waye,Þat lygges ouerȝone depe delle?ȝone es þe waye, so waylawaye!Vn-to þe birnande fyre of helle.

42Seese þou ȝitt ȝone faire castelle,[Þat standis ouer] ȝone heghe hill?Of towne and towre it beris þe belle;In erthe es none lyke it vn-till.

43Ffor sothe, Thomas, ȝone es myneawenne,And þe kynges of this countree;Bot me ware leuerbe hanged and drawene,Or þat he wyste þou laye by me.

44When þou commes to ȝone castelle gay,I pray þe curtase maneto bee;And whate so any maneto þe saye,Luke þou answere none bott mee.

45 My lorde es seruede at ylk a meseWiththritty knyghttis faire and free;I sall saye, syttande at the desse,I tuke thi speche by-ȝonde the see

46Thomas still als stane he stude,And he by-helde þat lady gaye;Scho come agayne als faire and gude,And also ryche one hir palfraye.

47Hir grewehundis fillide withdere blode,Hir raches couplede, by my faye;Scho blewe hir horne withmayne and mode,Vn-to þe castelle scho tuke þe waye.

48In-to þe haulle sothely scho went,Thomas foloued at hir hande;Than ladyes come, bothe faire and gent,With curtassye to hir knelande.

49Harpe and fethill bothe þay fande,Getterne, and als so þe sawtrye;Lutte and ryhyne bothe gangande,And all manere of mynstralsye.

50Þe most meruelle þat Thomas thoghte,Wheneþat he stode apponethe flore;Ffor feftty hertis in were broghte,Þat were bothe grete and store.

51Raches laye lapande in þe blode,Cokes come withdryssynge knyfe;Thay brittened þameals þay were wode;Reuelle amanges þame was full ryfe.

52Knyghtis dawnesede by three and three,There was revelle, gameneand playe;Lufly ladyes, faire and free,That satte and sange one riche araye.

53Thomas duellide inthat solaceMore þaneI ȝowe saye, parde,Till one a daye, so hafe I grace,My lufly lady sayde to mee:

54Do buske the, Thomas, þe buse agayne,Ffor þou may here no lengare be;Hye the faste, withmyghte and mayne,I sall the brynge till Eldone tree.

55Thomas sayde þane, withheuy chere,Lufly lady, nowe late me bee;Ffor certis, lady, I hafe bene hereNoghte bot þe space of dayes three.

56'Ffor sothe, Thomas, als I þe telle,Þou hase bene here thre ȝere and more;Bot langere here þou may noghte duelle;The skylle I sall þe telle whare-fore.

57'To morne of helle þe foulle fendeAmange this folke will feche his fee;And þou arte mekill maneand hende;I trowe full wele he wolde chese the.

58'Ffor alle þe gold þat euer may bee,Ffro hethynevn-to þe worldis ende,Þou bese neuerbe-trayede for mee;Þerefore withme I rede thou wende.'

59Scho broghte hymagayne to Eldone tree,Vndir-nethe þat grenewode spraye;In Huntlee bannkes es mery to bee,Whare fowles synges bothe nyght and daye.

60'Fferre owtt in ȝone mountane graye,Thomas, my fawkonebygges a neste;A fawconnees an erlis praye;Ffor-thi in na place may he reste.

61'Ffare well, Thomas, I wend my waye,Ffor me by-houys ouerthir benttis browne:'Loo here a fytt: more es to saye,All of Thomas of Erselldowne.

1'Fare wele, Thomas, I wend my waye,I may no lengare stande withthe:''Gyff me a tokynynge, lady gaye,That I may saye I spake withthe.'2'To harpe or carpe, whare-so þou gose,Thomas, þou sall hafe þe chose sothely:'And he saide, Harpynge kepe I none,Ffor tonge es chefe of mynstralsye.3'If þou will spelle, or tales telle,Thomas, þou sall neuerlesynge lye;Whare euerþou fare, by frythe or felle,I praye the speke none euyll of me.4'Ffare wele, Thomas, with-owttynegyle,I may no lengare duelle with the:''Lufly lady, habyde a while,And telle þou me of some ferly.'5'Thomas, herkynewhat I the saye:' etc.

1'Fare wele, Thomas, I wend my waye,I may no lengare stande withthe:''Gyff me a tokynynge, lady gaye,That I may saye I spake withthe.'

2'To harpe or carpe, whare-so þou gose,Thomas, þou sall hafe þe chose sothely:'And he saide, Harpynge kepe I none,Ffor tonge es chefe of mynstralsye.

3'If þou will spelle, or tales telle,Thomas, þou sall neuerlesynge lye;Whare euerþou fare, by frythe or felle,I praye the speke none euyll of me.

4'Ffare wele, Thomas, with-owttynegyle,I may no lengare duelle with the:''Lufly lady, habyde a while,And telle þou me of some ferly.'

5'Thomas, herkynewhat I the saye:' etc.

Here begin the prophecies.

&andjare replaced byandandI.21. throstyll cokke: throstell,Cambridge MS.22. menyde hir.101.Wanting.She led, etc.,Cambridge.124, 134.Lansdowne, elden;Cambridge, eldryn, eldryne.162. prysse.171. prysee.173. wysse.434. me by.Cambridge, be me.464. also.

&andjare replaced byandandI.

21. throstyll cokke: throstell,Cambridge MS.

22. menyde hir.

101.Wanting.She led, etc.,Cambridge.

124, 134.Lansdowne, elden;Cambridge, eldryn, eldryne.

162. prysse.

171. prysee.

173. wysse.

434. me by.Cambridge, be me.

464. also.

Fytt 2.

21. þou gose.Cambridge, ȝe gon.

FOOTNOTES:[304]See the letter of Dr Anderson to Bishop Percy, December 29, 1800, in Nichols's Illustrations of the Literary History of the Eighteenth Century, VII, 178 f.[305]Chambers' Popular Rhymes of Scotland, 1870, pp. 211-224. See, also, Scott's Minstrelsy, IV, 110-116, 129-151, ed. 1833. But, above all, Dr J. A. H. Murray's Introduction to The Romance and Prophecies of Thomas of Erceldoune, 1875.[306]Hector Boece (1527) says the surname was Leirmont, but there is no evidence for this that is of value. See Murray, p. xiii.[307]The five copies have been edited by Dr J. A. H. Murray, and printed by the Early English Text Society. A reconstructed text by Dr Alois Brandl makes the second volume of a Sammlung englischer Denkmäler in kritischen Ausgaben, Berlin, 1880.[308]Murray, pp xxiv-xxvii. As might be expected, the Latin texts corrupt the names of persons and of places, and alter the results of battles. Dr Murray remarks: "The oldest text makes the Scots win Halidon Hill, with the slaughter of six thousand Englishmen, while the other texts, wise after the fact, makes the Scots lose, as they actually did." This, and the consideration that a question about the conflict between the families of Bruce and Baliol would not be put after 1400, when the Baliol line was extinct, disposes Dr Murray to think that verses 326-56 of the second fit, with perhaps the first fit, the conclusion of the poem, and an indefinite portion of fit third, may have been written on the eve of Halidon Hill, with a view to encourage the Scots.[309]The poem, vv 675-80, says only that Thomas and the lady did not part for ever and aye, but that she was to visit him at Huntley banks.[310]The relations of Thomas Rhymer and Ogier might, perhaps, be cleared up by the poem of The Visions of Ogier in Fairy Land. The book is thus described by Brunet, ed. 1863, IV, 173: Le premier (second et troisième) livre des visions d'Oger le Dannoys au royaulme de Fairie, Paris, 1542, pet. in-8, de 48 ff. Brunet adds: A la suite de ce poëme, dans l'exemplaire de la Bibliothèque impériale, se trouve, Le liure des visions fantastiques, Paris, 1542, pet. in-8, de 24 ff. The National Library is not now in possession of the volume; nor have all the inquiries I have been able to make, though most courteously aided in France, resulted, as I hoped, in the finding of a copy.[311]Excepting the two satirical stanzas with which Scott's version (C) concludes. "The repugnance of Thomas to be debarred the use of falsehood when he should find it convenient," may have, as Scott says, "a comic effect," but is, for a ballad, a miserable conceit. Both ballad and romance are serious.[312]Eildon Tree, the site of which is supposed now to be marked by the Eildon Tree Stone, stood, or should have stood, on the slope of the eastern of the three Eildon Hills. Huntly Banks are about half a mile to the west of the Eildon Stone, on the same hill-slope. Erceldoun, a village on the Leader, two miles above its junction with the Tweed, is all but visible from the Eildon Stone. Murray, pp l-lii.[313]InB2, absurdly, the lady holds nine bells in her hand. Ringing or jingling bridles are ascribed to fairies, Tam Lin,A37, Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, p. 298 ("manes hung wi whustles that the win played on," p. 299). The fairy's saddle has a bordure of bells in the English Launfal, Halliwell's Illustrations of Fairy Mythology, p. 31, but not in Marie's lai. The dwarf-king Antiloie, in Ulrich Von Eschenbach's Alexander, has bells on his bridle: Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, I, 385. These bells, however, are not at all distinctive of fairies, but are the ordinary decoration of elegant "outriders" in the Middle Ages, especially of women. In the romance of Richard Cœur de Lion, a messenger's trappings ring with five hundred bells. Besides the bridle, bells were sometimes attached to the horse's breastplate, to the saddle-bow, crupper, and stirrups. Conde Claros's steed has three hundred around his breastplate. See Weber's Metrical Romances, R.C. de Lion, vv 1514-17, 5712-14, cited by T. Wright, History of Domestic Manners in England, 214 f; Liebrecht, Gervasius, p. 122; Kölbing, Englische Studien, III, 105; Zupitza and Varnhagen, Anglia, III, 371, IV, 417; and particularly A. Schultz, Das höfische Leben zur Zeit der Minnesinger, I, 235, 388-91.[314]The original I suppose to be the very cheerful tale of Ogier, with which the author of Thomas of Erceldoune has blended a very serious one, without any regard to the irreconcilableness of the two. He is presently forced to undo this melancholy transformation of the fairy, as we shall see. Brandl, 'Thomas of Erceldoune,' p. 20, cites from Giraldus Cambrensis, Itinerarium Cambriæ, I, 5, a story about one Meilyr, a Welshman, the like of which our poet had in mind. This Meilyr was a great soothsayer, and "owed his skill to the following adventure:" Being in company one evening with a girl for whom he had long had a passion, desideratis amplexibus atque deliciis cum indulsisset, statim loco puellæ formosæ formam quamdam villosam, hispidam et hirsutam, adeoque enormiter deformem invenit, quod in ipso ejusdem aspectu dementire cœpit et insanire. Meilyr recovered his reason after several years, through the merits of the saints, but always kept up an intimacy with unclean spirits, and by their help foretold the future. It is not said that they gave him the tongue that never could lie, but no other tongue could lie successfully in his presence: he always saw a little devil capering on it. He was able, by similar indications, to point out the lies and errors of books. The experiment being once tried of laying the Gospel of John in his lap, every devil instantly decamped. Geoffrey of Monmouth's history was substituted, and imps swarmed all over the book and him, too.[315]B83,4"It was a' that cursed fruit o thine beggared man and woman in your countrie:" the fruit of the Forbidden Tree.[316]Purgatory is omitted in the Cotton MS. of the romance, as in the ballad.[317]Ogier le Danois hardly exceeded the proportion of the ordinary hyperbole of lovers: two hundred years seemed but twenty. The British king Herla lived with the king of the dwarfs more than two hundred years, and thought the time but three days: Walter Mapes, Nugæ Curialium, ed. Wright, p. 16 f (Liebrecht). The strongest case, I believe, is the exquisite legend, versified by Trench, of the monk, with whom three hundred years passed, while he was listening to a bird's song—as he thought, less than three hours. For some of the countless repetitions of the idea, see Pauli's Schimpf und Ernst, ed. Oesterley, No 562, and notes, p. 537; Liebrecht's Gervasins, p. 89; W. Hertz, Deutsche Sage im Elsass, pp 115-18, 263; A. Graf, La Leggenda del Paradiso Terrestre, pp 26-29, 31-33, and notes; J. Koch, Die Siebenschläferlegende, kap. ii.[318]In an exquisite little ballad obtained by Tommaseo from a peasant-girl of Empoli, I, 26, a lover who had visited hell, and there met and kissed his mistress, is told by her that he must not hope ever to go thence. How the lover escaped in this instance is not explained. Such things happen sometimes, but not often enough to encourage one to take the risk.Sono stato all' inferno, e son tornato:Misericordia, la gente che c'era!V'era una stanza tutta illuminata,E dentro v'era la speranza mia.Quando mi vedde, gran festa mi fece,E poi mi disse: Dolce anima mia,Non ti arricordi del tempo passato,Quando tu mi dicevi, "anima mia?"Ora, mio caro ben, baciami in bocca,Baciami tanto ch'io contenta sia.È tanto saporita la tua bocca!Di grazia saporisci anco la mia.Ora, mio caro ben, che m'hai baciato,Di qui non isperar d'andarne via.[319]A8, 9,R34, 35. It was not that Thomas was about to pluck fruit from the Forbidden Tree, thoughBunderstands it so: cf.R32, 33. The curse of this tree seems, however, to have affected all Paradise. In modern Greek popular poetry Paradise occurs sometimes entirely in the sense of Hades. See B. Schmidt, Volksleben der Neugriechen, p. 249.[320]Jamieson, in Illustrations of Northern Antiquities, p. 398: 'Child Rowland and Burd Ellen.'[321]Niedersächsische Sagen und Märchen, Schambach und Müller, p. 373. Shakspere has this: "They are fairies; he that speaks to them shall die;" Falstaff, in Merry Wives of Windsor, V, 5. Ancient Greek tradition is not without traces of the same ideas. It was Persephone's eating of the pomegranate kernel that consigned her to the lower world, in spite of Zeus and Demeter's opposition. The drinking of Circe's brewage and the eating of lotus had an effect on the companions of Ulysses such as is sometimes ascribed to the food and drink of fairies, or other demons, that of producing forgetfulness of home: Odyssey,X, 236,IX, 97. But it would not be safe to build much on this. A Hebrew tale makes the human wife of a demon charge a man who has come to perform, a certain service for the family not to eat or drink in the house, or to take any present of her husband, exactly repeating the precautions observed in Grimm, Deutsche Sagen, Nos 41, 49: Tendlan, Das Buch der Sagen und Legenden jüdischer Vorzeit, p. 141. The children of Shem may probably have derived this trait in the story from the children of Japhet. Aladdin, in the Arabian Nights, is to have a care, above all things, that he does not touch the walls of the subterranean chamber so much as with his clothes, or he will die instantly. This again, by itself, is not very conclusive.[322]Historia Danica, l. viii: Müller et Velschow, I, 420-25.

[304]See the letter of Dr Anderson to Bishop Percy, December 29, 1800, in Nichols's Illustrations of the Literary History of the Eighteenth Century, VII, 178 f.

[305]Chambers' Popular Rhymes of Scotland, 1870, pp. 211-224. See, also, Scott's Minstrelsy, IV, 110-116, 129-151, ed. 1833. But, above all, Dr J. A. H. Murray's Introduction to The Romance and Prophecies of Thomas of Erceldoune, 1875.

[306]Hector Boece (1527) says the surname was Leirmont, but there is no evidence for this that is of value. See Murray, p. xiii.

[307]The five copies have been edited by Dr J. A. H. Murray, and printed by the Early English Text Society. A reconstructed text by Dr Alois Brandl makes the second volume of a Sammlung englischer Denkmäler in kritischen Ausgaben, Berlin, 1880.

[308]Murray, pp xxiv-xxvii. As might be expected, the Latin texts corrupt the names of persons and of places, and alter the results of battles. Dr Murray remarks: "The oldest text makes the Scots win Halidon Hill, with the slaughter of six thousand Englishmen, while the other texts, wise after the fact, makes the Scots lose, as they actually did." This, and the consideration that a question about the conflict between the families of Bruce and Baliol would not be put after 1400, when the Baliol line was extinct, disposes Dr Murray to think that verses 326-56 of the second fit, with perhaps the first fit, the conclusion of the poem, and an indefinite portion of fit third, may have been written on the eve of Halidon Hill, with a view to encourage the Scots.

[309]The poem, vv 675-80, says only that Thomas and the lady did not part for ever and aye, but that she was to visit him at Huntley banks.

[310]The relations of Thomas Rhymer and Ogier might, perhaps, be cleared up by the poem of The Visions of Ogier in Fairy Land. The book is thus described by Brunet, ed. 1863, IV, 173: Le premier (second et troisième) livre des visions d'Oger le Dannoys au royaulme de Fairie, Paris, 1542, pet. in-8, de 48 ff. Brunet adds: A la suite de ce poëme, dans l'exemplaire de la Bibliothèque impériale, se trouve, Le liure des visions fantastiques, Paris, 1542, pet. in-8, de 24 ff. The National Library is not now in possession of the volume; nor have all the inquiries I have been able to make, though most courteously aided in France, resulted, as I hoped, in the finding of a copy.

[311]Excepting the two satirical stanzas with which Scott's version (C) concludes. "The repugnance of Thomas to be debarred the use of falsehood when he should find it convenient," may have, as Scott says, "a comic effect," but is, for a ballad, a miserable conceit. Both ballad and romance are serious.

[312]Eildon Tree, the site of which is supposed now to be marked by the Eildon Tree Stone, stood, or should have stood, on the slope of the eastern of the three Eildon Hills. Huntly Banks are about half a mile to the west of the Eildon Stone, on the same hill-slope. Erceldoun, a village on the Leader, two miles above its junction with the Tweed, is all but visible from the Eildon Stone. Murray, pp l-lii.

[313]InB2, absurdly, the lady holds nine bells in her hand. Ringing or jingling bridles are ascribed to fairies, Tam Lin,A37, Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, p. 298 ("manes hung wi whustles that the win played on," p. 299). The fairy's saddle has a bordure of bells in the English Launfal, Halliwell's Illustrations of Fairy Mythology, p. 31, but not in Marie's lai. The dwarf-king Antiloie, in Ulrich Von Eschenbach's Alexander, has bells on his bridle: Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, I, 385. These bells, however, are not at all distinctive of fairies, but are the ordinary decoration of elegant "outriders" in the Middle Ages, especially of women. In the romance of Richard Cœur de Lion, a messenger's trappings ring with five hundred bells. Besides the bridle, bells were sometimes attached to the horse's breastplate, to the saddle-bow, crupper, and stirrups. Conde Claros's steed has three hundred around his breastplate. See Weber's Metrical Romances, R.C. de Lion, vv 1514-17, 5712-14, cited by T. Wright, History of Domestic Manners in England, 214 f; Liebrecht, Gervasius, p. 122; Kölbing, Englische Studien, III, 105; Zupitza and Varnhagen, Anglia, III, 371, IV, 417; and particularly A. Schultz, Das höfische Leben zur Zeit der Minnesinger, I, 235, 388-91.

[314]The original I suppose to be the very cheerful tale of Ogier, with which the author of Thomas of Erceldoune has blended a very serious one, without any regard to the irreconcilableness of the two. He is presently forced to undo this melancholy transformation of the fairy, as we shall see. Brandl, 'Thomas of Erceldoune,' p. 20, cites from Giraldus Cambrensis, Itinerarium Cambriæ, I, 5, a story about one Meilyr, a Welshman, the like of which our poet had in mind. This Meilyr was a great soothsayer, and "owed his skill to the following adventure:" Being in company one evening with a girl for whom he had long had a passion, desideratis amplexibus atque deliciis cum indulsisset, statim loco puellæ formosæ formam quamdam villosam, hispidam et hirsutam, adeoque enormiter deformem invenit, quod in ipso ejusdem aspectu dementire cœpit et insanire. Meilyr recovered his reason after several years, through the merits of the saints, but always kept up an intimacy with unclean spirits, and by their help foretold the future. It is not said that they gave him the tongue that never could lie, but no other tongue could lie successfully in his presence: he always saw a little devil capering on it. He was able, by similar indications, to point out the lies and errors of books. The experiment being once tried of laying the Gospel of John in his lap, every devil instantly decamped. Geoffrey of Monmouth's history was substituted, and imps swarmed all over the book and him, too.

[315]B83,4"It was a' that cursed fruit o thine beggared man and woman in your countrie:" the fruit of the Forbidden Tree.

[316]Purgatory is omitted in the Cotton MS. of the romance, as in the ballad.

[317]Ogier le Danois hardly exceeded the proportion of the ordinary hyperbole of lovers: two hundred years seemed but twenty. The British king Herla lived with the king of the dwarfs more than two hundred years, and thought the time but three days: Walter Mapes, Nugæ Curialium, ed. Wright, p. 16 f (Liebrecht). The strongest case, I believe, is the exquisite legend, versified by Trench, of the monk, with whom three hundred years passed, while he was listening to a bird's song—as he thought, less than three hours. For some of the countless repetitions of the idea, see Pauli's Schimpf und Ernst, ed. Oesterley, No 562, and notes, p. 537; Liebrecht's Gervasins, p. 89; W. Hertz, Deutsche Sage im Elsass, pp 115-18, 263; A. Graf, La Leggenda del Paradiso Terrestre, pp 26-29, 31-33, and notes; J. Koch, Die Siebenschläferlegende, kap. ii.

[318]In an exquisite little ballad obtained by Tommaseo from a peasant-girl of Empoli, I, 26, a lover who had visited hell, and there met and kissed his mistress, is told by her that he must not hope ever to go thence. How the lover escaped in this instance is not explained. Such things happen sometimes, but not often enough to encourage one to take the risk.Sono stato all' inferno, e son tornato:Misericordia, la gente che c'era!V'era una stanza tutta illuminata,E dentro v'era la speranza mia.Quando mi vedde, gran festa mi fece,E poi mi disse: Dolce anima mia,Non ti arricordi del tempo passato,Quando tu mi dicevi, "anima mia?"Ora, mio caro ben, baciami in bocca,Baciami tanto ch'io contenta sia.È tanto saporita la tua bocca!Di grazia saporisci anco la mia.Ora, mio caro ben, che m'hai baciato,Di qui non isperar d'andarne via.

Sono stato all' inferno, e son tornato:Misericordia, la gente che c'era!V'era una stanza tutta illuminata,E dentro v'era la speranza mia.Quando mi vedde, gran festa mi fece,E poi mi disse: Dolce anima mia,Non ti arricordi del tempo passato,Quando tu mi dicevi, "anima mia?"Ora, mio caro ben, baciami in bocca,Baciami tanto ch'io contenta sia.È tanto saporita la tua bocca!Di grazia saporisci anco la mia.Ora, mio caro ben, che m'hai baciato,Di qui non isperar d'andarne via.

[319]A8, 9,R34, 35. It was not that Thomas was about to pluck fruit from the Forbidden Tree, thoughBunderstands it so: cf.R32, 33. The curse of this tree seems, however, to have affected all Paradise. In modern Greek popular poetry Paradise occurs sometimes entirely in the sense of Hades. See B. Schmidt, Volksleben der Neugriechen, p. 249.

[320]Jamieson, in Illustrations of Northern Antiquities, p. 398: 'Child Rowland and Burd Ellen.'

[321]Niedersächsische Sagen und Märchen, Schambach und Müller, p. 373. Shakspere has this: "They are fairies; he that speaks to them shall die;" Falstaff, in Merry Wives of Windsor, V, 5. Ancient Greek tradition is not without traces of the same ideas. It was Persephone's eating of the pomegranate kernel that consigned her to the lower world, in spite of Zeus and Demeter's opposition. The drinking of Circe's brewage and the eating of lotus had an effect on the companions of Ulysses such as is sometimes ascribed to the food and drink of fairies, or other demons, that of producing forgetfulness of home: Odyssey,X, 236,IX, 97. But it would not be safe to build much on this. A Hebrew tale makes the human wife of a demon charge a man who has come to perform, a certain service for the family not to eat or drink in the house, or to take any present of her husband, exactly repeating the precautions observed in Grimm, Deutsche Sagen, Nos 41, 49: Tendlan, Das Buch der Sagen und Legenden jüdischer Vorzeit, p. 141. The children of Shem may probably have derived this trait in the story from the children of Japhet. Aladdin, in the Arabian Nights, is to have a care, above all things, that he does not touch the walls of the subterranean chamber so much as with his clothes, or he will die instantly. This again, by itself, is not very conclusive.

[322]Historia Danica, l. viii: Müller et Velschow, I, 420-25.

A. a.'The Wee Wee Man,' Herd's MSS, I, 153; Herd's Scottish Songs, 1776, I, 95.B.Caw's Poetical Museum, p. 348.C.'The Wee Wee Man,' Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 234, ed. 1802.D.'The Wee Wee Man,' Kinloch MSS, VII, 253.E. a.'The Wee Wee Man,' Motherwell's Note-Book, fol. 40; Motherwell's MS., p. 195.b.Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 343.F.'The Wee Wee Man,' Motherwell's MS., p. 68.G.'The Little Man,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 263.

A. a.'The Wee Wee Man,' Herd's MSS, I, 153; Herd's Scottish Songs, 1776, I, 95.

B.Caw's Poetical Museum, p. 348.

C.'The Wee Wee Man,' Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 234, ed. 1802.

D.'The Wee Wee Man,' Kinloch MSS, VII, 253.

E. a.'The Wee Wee Man,' Motherwell's Note-Book, fol. 40; Motherwell's MS., p. 195.b.Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 343.

F.'The Wee Wee Man,' Motherwell's MS., p. 68.

G.'The Little Man,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 263.

This extremely airy and sparkling little ballad varies but slightly in the half dozen known copies. The one in the Musical Museum, No 370, p. 382, and that in Ritson's Scotish Songs, II, 139, are reprinted from Herd.

Singularly enough, there is a poem in eight-line stanzas, in a fourteenth-century manuscript, which stands in somewhat the same relation to this ballad as the poem of Thomas of Erceldoune does to the ballad of Thomas Rymer, but with the important difference that there is no reason for deriving the ballad from the poem in this instance. There seems to have been an intention to make it, like Thomas of Erceldoune, an introduction to a string of prophecies which follows, but no junction has been effected. This poem is given in an appendix.

Ais translated by Arndt, Blütenlese, p. 210;B, with a few improvements fromE b, by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder, p. 12.

Herd's MSS, I, 153, Herd's Ancient and Modern Scottish Songs, 1776, I, 95.

1As I was wa'king all alone,Between a water and a wa,And there I spy'd a wee wee man,And he was the least that ere I saw.2His legs were scarce a shathmont's length,And thick and thimber was his thigh;Between his brows there was a span,And between his shoulders there was three.3He took up a meikle stane,And he flang't as far as I could see;Though I had been a Wallace wight,I couldna liften 't to my knee.4'O wee wee man, but thou be strang!O tell me where thy dwelling be?''My dwelling's down at yon bonny bower;O will you go with me and see?'5On we lap, and awa we rade,Till we came to yon bonny green;We lighted down for to bait our horse,And out there came a lady fine.6Four and twenty at her back,And they were a' clad out in green;Though the King of Scotland had been there,The warst o them might hae been his queen.7On we lap, and awa we rade,Till we came to yon bonny ha,Whare the roof was o the beaten gould,And the floor was o the cristal a'.8When we came to the stair-foot,Ladies were dancing, jimp and sma,But in the twinkling of an eye,My wee wee man was clean awa.

1As I was wa'king all alone,Between a water and a wa,And there I spy'd a wee wee man,And he was the least that ere I saw.

2His legs were scarce a shathmont's length,And thick and thimber was his thigh;Between his brows there was a span,And between his shoulders there was three.

3He took up a meikle stane,And he flang't as far as I could see;Though I had been a Wallace wight,I couldna liften 't to my knee.

4'O wee wee man, but thou be strang!O tell me where thy dwelling be?''My dwelling's down at yon bonny bower;O will you go with me and see?'

5On we lap, and awa we rade,Till we came to yon bonny green;We lighted down for to bait our horse,And out there came a lady fine.

6Four and twenty at her back,And they were a' clad out in green;Though the King of Scotland had been there,The warst o them might hae been his queen.

7On we lap, and awa we rade,Till we came to yon bonny ha,Whare the roof was o the beaten gould,And the floor was o the cristal a'.

8When we came to the stair-foot,Ladies were dancing, jimp and sma,But in the twinkling of an eye,My wee wee man was clean awa.

Caw's Poetical Museum, p. 348.

1As I was walking by my lane,Atween a water and a wa,There sune I spied a wee wee man,He was the least that eir I saw.2His legs were scant a shathmont's length,And sma and limber was his thie;Atween his shoulders was ae span,About his middle war but three.3He has tane up a meikle stane,And flang 't as far as I cold see;Ein thouch I had been Wallace wicht,I dought na lift 't to my knie.4'O wee wee man, but ye be strang!Tell me whar may thy dwelling be?'I dwell beneth that bonnie bouir;O will ye gae wi me and see?'5On we lap, and awa we rade,Till we cam to a bonny green;We lichted syne to bait our steid,And out there cam a lady sheen.6Wi four and twentie at her back,A' comely cled in glistering green;Thouch there the King of Scots had stude,The warst micht weil hae been his queen.7On syne we past wi wondering cheir,Till we cam to a bonny ha;The roof was o the beaten gowd,The flure was o the crystal a'.8When we cam there, wi wee wee knichtsWar ladies dancing, jimp and sma,But in the twinkling of an eie,Baith green and ha war clein awa.

1As I was walking by my lane,Atween a water and a wa,There sune I spied a wee wee man,He was the least that eir I saw.

2His legs were scant a shathmont's length,And sma and limber was his thie;Atween his shoulders was ae span,About his middle war but three.

3He has tane up a meikle stane,And flang 't as far as I cold see;Ein thouch I had been Wallace wicht,I dought na lift 't to my knie.

4'O wee wee man, but ye be strang!Tell me whar may thy dwelling be?'I dwell beneth that bonnie bouir;O will ye gae wi me and see?'

5On we lap, and awa we rade,Till we cam to a bonny green;We lichted syne to bait our steid,And out there cam a lady sheen.

6Wi four and twentie at her back,A' comely cled in glistering green;Thouch there the King of Scots had stude,The warst micht weil hae been his queen.

7On syne we past wi wondering cheir,Till we cam to a bonny ha;The roof was o the beaten gowd,The flure was o the crystal a'.

8When we cam there, wi wee wee knichtsWar ladies dancing, jimp and sma,But in the twinkling of an eie,Baith green and ha war clein awa.

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