E.

Harris's MS., fol. 7, No 3. From Mrs Harris's recitation.

1There cam a knicht to Archerdale,His steed was winder sma,An there he spied a lady bricht,Luikin owre her castle wa.2'Ye dinna seem a gentle knicht,Though on horseback ye do ride;Ye seem to be some sutor's son,Your butes they are sae wide.'3'Ye dinna seem a lady gay,Though ye be bound wi pride;Else I'd gane bye your father's gateBut either taunt or gibe.'4He turned aboot his hie horse head,An awa he was boun to ride,But neatly wi her mouth she spak:Oh bide, fine squire, oh bide.5'Bide, oh bide, ye hindy squire,Tell me mair o your tale;Tell me some o that wondrous liedYe've learnt in Archerdale.6'What gaes in a speal?' she said,'What in a horn green?An what gaes on a lady's head,Whan it is washen clean?'7'Ale gaes in a speal,' he said,'Wine in a horn green;An silk gaes on a lady's head,Whan it is washen clean.'8Aboot he turned his hie horse head,An awa he was boun to ride,When neatly wi her mouth she spak:Oh bide, fine squire, oh bide.9'Bide, oh bide, ye hindy squire,Tell me mair o your tale;Tell me some o that unco liedYou've learnt in Archerdale.10'Ye are as like my ae britherAs ever I did see;But he's been buried in yon kirkyairdIt's mair than years is three.'11'I am as like your ae britherAs ever ye did see;But I canna get peace into my grave,A' for the pride o thee.12'Leave pride, Janet, leave pride, Janet,Leave pride an vanitie;If ye come the roads that I hae come,Sair warned will ye be.13'Ye come in by yonder kirkWi the goud preens in your sleeve;When you're bracht hame to yon kirkyaird,You'll gie them a' thier leave.14'Ye come in to yonder kirkWi the goud plaits in your hair;When you're bracht hame to yon kirkyaird,You will them a' forbear.'15He got her in her mither's bour,Puttin goud plaits in her hair;He left her in her father's gairden,Mournin her sins sae sair.

1There cam a knicht to Archerdale,His steed was winder sma,An there he spied a lady bricht,Luikin owre her castle wa.

2'Ye dinna seem a gentle knicht,Though on horseback ye do ride;Ye seem to be some sutor's son,Your butes they are sae wide.'

3'Ye dinna seem a lady gay,Though ye be bound wi pride;Else I'd gane bye your father's gateBut either taunt or gibe.'

4He turned aboot his hie horse head,An awa he was boun to ride,But neatly wi her mouth she spak:Oh bide, fine squire, oh bide.

5'Bide, oh bide, ye hindy squire,Tell me mair o your tale;Tell me some o that wondrous liedYe've learnt in Archerdale.

6'What gaes in a speal?' she said,'What in a horn green?An what gaes on a lady's head,Whan it is washen clean?'

7'Ale gaes in a speal,' he said,'Wine in a horn green;An silk gaes on a lady's head,Whan it is washen clean.'

8Aboot he turned his hie horse head,An awa he was boun to ride,When neatly wi her mouth she spak:Oh bide, fine squire, oh bide.

9'Bide, oh bide, ye hindy squire,Tell me mair o your tale;Tell me some o that unco liedYou've learnt in Archerdale.

10'Ye are as like my ae britherAs ever I did see;But he's been buried in yon kirkyairdIt's mair than years is three.'

11'I am as like your ae britherAs ever ye did see;But I canna get peace into my grave,A' for the pride o thee.

12'Leave pride, Janet, leave pride, Janet,Leave pride an vanitie;If ye come the roads that I hae come,Sair warned will ye be.

13'Ye come in by yonder kirkWi the goud preens in your sleeve;When you're bracht hame to yon kirkyaird,You'll gie them a' thier leave.

14'Ye come in to yonder kirkWi the goud plaits in your hair;When you're bracht hame to yon kirkyaird,You will them a' forbear.'

15He got her in her mither's bour,Puttin goud plaits in her hair;He left her in her father's gairden,Mournin her sins sae sair.

Alex. Laing, Ancient Ballads and Songs, etc., etc., from the recitation of old people. Never published. 1829. P. 6.

1Fair Margret was a young ladye,An come of high degree;Fair Margret was a young ladye,An proud as proud coud be.2Fair Margret was a rich ladye,The king's cousin was she;Fair Margaret was a rich ladye,An vain as vain coud be.3She war'd her wealth on the gay cleedinThat comes frae yont the sea,She spent her time frae morning till nightAdorning her fair bodye.4Ae night she sate in her stately ha,Kaimin her yellow hair,When in there cum like a gentle knight,An a white scarf he did wear.5'O what's your will wi me, sir knight,O what's your will wi me?You're the likest to my ae brotherThat ever I did see.6'You're the likest to my ae brotherThat ever I hae seen,But he's buried in Dunfermline kirk,A month an mair bygane.'7'I'm the likest to your ae brotherThat ever ye did see,But I canna get rest into my grave,A' for the pride of thee.8'Leave pride, Margret, leave pride, Margret,Leave pride an vanity;Ere ye see the sights that I hae seen,Sair altered ye maun be.9'O ye come in at the kirk-doorWi the gowd plaits in your hair;But wud ye see what I hae seen,Ye maun them a' forbear.10'O ye come in at the kirk-doorWi the gowd prins i your sleeve;But wad ye see what I hae seen,Ye maun gie them a' their leave.11'Leave pride, Margret, leave pride, Margret,Leave pride an vanity;Ere ye see the sights that I hae seen,Sair altered ye maun be.'12He got her in her stately ha,Kaimin her yellow hair,He left her on her sick sick bed,Sheding the saut saut tear.

1Fair Margret was a young ladye,An come of high degree;Fair Margret was a young ladye,An proud as proud coud be.

2Fair Margret was a rich ladye,The king's cousin was she;Fair Margaret was a rich ladye,An vain as vain coud be.

3She war'd her wealth on the gay cleedinThat comes frae yont the sea,She spent her time frae morning till nightAdorning her fair bodye.

4Ae night she sate in her stately ha,Kaimin her yellow hair,When in there cum like a gentle knight,An a white scarf he did wear.

5'O what's your will wi me, sir knight,O what's your will wi me?You're the likest to my ae brotherThat ever I did see.

6'You're the likest to my ae brotherThat ever I hae seen,But he's buried in Dunfermline kirk,A month an mair bygane.'

7'I'm the likest to your ae brotherThat ever ye did see,But I canna get rest into my grave,A' for the pride of thee.

8'Leave pride, Margret, leave pride, Margret,Leave pride an vanity;Ere ye see the sights that I hae seen,Sair altered ye maun be.

9'O ye come in at the kirk-doorWi the gowd plaits in your hair;But wud ye see what I hae seen,Ye maun them a' forbear.

10'O ye come in at the kirk-doorWi the gowd prins i your sleeve;But wad ye see what I hae seen,Ye maun gie them a' their leave.

11'Leave pride, Margret, leave pride, Margret,Leave pride an vanity;Ere ye see the sights that I hae seen,Sair altered ye maun be.'

12He got her in her stately ha,Kaimin her yellow hair,He left her on her sick sick bed,Sheding the saut saut tear.

153,4, 161,2,C93,4, 101,2are rightly answers, not questions: cf.A9, 10.D6 furnishes the question answered inB17.

B. b.

Motherwell begins at st. 25.272. gowd band.281, 291. kirk.302. owergangs.322. In the.323. And naething.

Motherwell begins at st. 25.

272. gowd band.

281, 291. kirk.

302. owergangs.

322. In the.

323. And naething.

Kind Squirein the title, andkindin 11, 211; I suppose by mistake of my copyist.163. You're (?).172. the clay cold.

Kind Squirein the title, andkindin 11, 211; I suppose by mistake of my copyist.

163. You're (?).

172. the clay cold.

83, 113. E'er.

Percy MS., p. 292. Hales and Furnivall, II, 328.

'Young Andrew' is known only from the Percy manuscript. The story recalls both 'Lady Isabel and the Elf-Knight,' No 4, and 'The Fair Flower of Northumberland,' No 9. The lady, Helen, 253, is bidden to take, and does take, gold with her in stanzas 5-7, as in No 4, EnglishE2, 3,D7, DanishA12,E7, 9,I5,L5, 6, and nearly all the Polish copies, and again in No 9,A14. She is stripped of her clothes and head-gear in 8-17, as in No 4, EnglishC-E, GermanG,H, and many of the Polish versions. These are destined by Young Andrew for his lady ("that dwells so far in a strange country") in 10, 12, 14, as by Ulinger for his sister, and by Adelger for his mother, in GermanG18,H15. In 15 the lady entreats Young Andrew to leave her her smock; so in No 4, PolishL8, "You brought me from home in a green gown; take me back in a shift of tow," andR13, "You took me away in red satin; let me go back at least in a smock." 18 has the choice between dying and going home again which is presented in 'Lady Isabel,' PolishAA4,H10,R11, and implied in 'The Fair Flower of Northumberland,'D2-5; inA25 of this last the choice is between dying and being a paramour. In 20, 21, the lady says, "If my father ever catches you, you're sure to flower a gallows-tree," etc.; in No 4, PolishJ5, "If God would grant me to reach the other bank, you know, wretch, what death you would die." The father is unrelenting in this ballad, v. 26, and receives his daughter with severity in 'The Fair Flower of Northumberland,'B13,C13. The conclusion of 'Young Andrew' is mutilated and hard to make out. He seems to have been pursued and caught, as John is in the Polish ballads,O,P,T, etc., of No 4. Why he was not promptly disposed of, and how the wolf comes into the story, will probably never be known.

1As I was cast in my ffirst sleepe,A dreadffull draught in my mind I drew,Ffor I was dreamed of a yong man,Some men called him yonge Andrew.2The moone shone bright, and itt cast a ffayre light,Sayes shee, Welcome, my honey, my hart, and my sweete!For I haue loued thee this seuen long yeere,And our chance itt was wee cold neuer meete.3Then he tooke her in his armes two,And kissed her both cheeke and chin,And twise or thrise he pleased this mayBefore they tow did part in twinn.4Saies, Now, good sir, you haue had your will,You can demand no more of mee;Good sir, remember what you said before,And goe to the church and marry mee.5'Ffaire maid, I cannott doe as I wold;. . . . . . .Goe home and fett thy fathers redd gold,And I'le goe to the church and marry thee.6This ladye is gone to her ffathers hall,And well she knew where his red gold lay,And counted fforth five hundred pound,Besides all other iuells and chaines:7And brought itt all to younge Andrew,Itt was well counted vpon his knee;Then he tooke her by the lillye white hand,And led her vp to an hill soe hye.8Shee had vpon a gowne of blacke veluett,(A pittyffull sight after yee shall see:)'Put of thy clothes, bonny wenche,' he sayes,'For noe ffoote further thoust gang with mee.'9But then shee put of her gowne of veluett,With many a salt teare from her eye,And in a kirtle of ffine breaden silkeShee stood beffore young Andrews eye.10Sais, O put off thy kirtle of silke,Ffor some and all shall goe with mee;And to my owne lady I must itt beare,Who I must needs loue better then thee.11Then shee put of her kirtle of silke,With many a salt teare still ffrom her eye;In a peticoate of scarlett reddShee stood before young Andrewes eye.12Saies, O put of thy peticoate,For some and all of itt shall goe with mee;And to my owne lady I will itt beare,Which dwells soe ffarr in a strange countrye.13But then shee put of her peticoate,With many a salt teare still from her eye,And in a smocke of braue white silkeShee stood before young Andrews eye.14Saies, O put of thy smocke of silke,For some and all shall goe with mee;Vnto my owne ladye I will itt beare,That dwells soe ffarr in a strange countrye.15Sayes, O remember, young Andrew,Once of a woman you were borne;And fforthat birththat Marye bore,I pray you let my smocke be vpon!16'Yes, ffayre ladye, I know itt well,Once of a woman I was borne;Yett ffor noe birththat Mary bore,Thy smocke shall not be left here vpon.'17But then shee put of her head-geere ffine;Shee hadd billaments worth a hundred pound;The hayrethat was vpon this bony wench headCouered her bodye downe to the ground.18Then he pulled forth a Scottish brand,And held itt there in his owne right hand;Saies, Whether wilt thou dye vpon my swords point, ladye,Or thow wilt goe naked home againe?19'Liffe is sweet,' then, 'sir,' said shee,'Therfore I pray you leaue mee with mine;Before I wold dye on your swords point,I had rather goe naked home againe.20'My ffather,' shee sayes, 'is a right good erleAs any remaines in his countrye;If euer he doe your body take,You'r sure to fflower a gallow tree.21'And I haue seuen brethren,' shee sayes,'And they are all hardy men and bold;Giff euer thé doe your body take,You must neuer gang quicke ouerthe mold.'22'If your ffather be a right good erleAs any remaines in his owne countrye,Tush! he shall neuer my body take,I'le gang soe ffast ouer the sea.23'If you haue seuen brethren,' he sayes,'If they be neuersoe hardy or bold,Tush! they shall neuermy body take,I'le gang soe ffast into the Scottish mold.'24Now this ladye is gone to her fathers hall,When euery body their rest did take;But the Erle which was her ffatherLay waken for his deere daughters sake.25'But who isthat,' her ffather can say,'That soe priuilye knowes the pinn?''It's Hellen, your owne deere daughter, ffather,I pray you rise and lett me in.'26. . . . . . .'Noe, by my hood!' quoth her ffather then,'My [house] thoust neuer come within,Without I had my red gold againe.'27'Nay, your gold is gone, ffather!' said shee,. . . . . . .'Then naked thou came into this world,And naked thou shalt returne againe.'28'Nay! God fforgaue his death, father,' shee sayes,'And soe I hope you will doe mee;''Away, away, thou cursed woman,I pray God an ill death thou may dye!'29Shee stood soe long quacking on the groundTill her hart itt burst in three;And then shee ffell dead downe in a swoond,And this was the end of this bonny ladye.30Ithe morning, when her ffather gott vpp,A pittyffull sight there he might see;His owne deere daughter was dead, without clothes,The teares they trickeled fast ffrom his eye.31. . . . . . .Sais, Fye of gold, and ffye of ffee!For I sett soe much by my red goldThat now itt hath lost both my daughter and mee!'32. . . . . . .But after this time he neere dought good day,But as flowers doth fade in the frost,Soe he did wast and weare away.33But let vs leaue talking of this ladye,And talke some more of young Andrew;Ffor ffalse he was to this bonny ladye,More pittythat he had not beene true.34He was not gone a mile into the wild forrest,Or halfe a mile into the hart of Wales,But there they cought him by such a braue wyleThat hee must come to tell noe more tales.* * * * *35. . . . . . .Ffull soone a wolfe did of him smell,And shee came roaring like a beare,And gaping like a ffeend of hell.36Soe they ffought together like two lyons,And fire betweene them two glashet out;Thé raught eche other such a great rappe,That there young Andrew was slaine, well I wott.37But now young Andrew he is dead,But he was neuer buryed vnder mold,For ther as the wolfe devoured him,There lyes all this great erles gold.

1As I was cast in my ffirst sleepe,A dreadffull draught in my mind I drew,Ffor I was dreamed of a yong man,Some men called him yonge Andrew.

2The moone shone bright, and itt cast a ffayre light,Sayes shee, Welcome, my honey, my hart, and my sweete!For I haue loued thee this seuen long yeere,And our chance itt was wee cold neuer meete.

3Then he tooke her in his armes two,And kissed her both cheeke and chin,And twise or thrise he pleased this mayBefore they tow did part in twinn.

4Saies, Now, good sir, you haue had your will,You can demand no more of mee;Good sir, remember what you said before,And goe to the church and marry mee.

5'Ffaire maid, I cannott doe as I wold;. . . . . . .Goe home and fett thy fathers redd gold,And I'le goe to the church and marry thee.

6This ladye is gone to her ffathers hall,And well she knew where his red gold lay,And counted fforth five hundred pound,Besides all other iuells and chaines:

7And brought itt all to younge Andrew,Itt was well counted vpon his knee;Then he tooke her by the lillye white hand,And led her vp to an hill soe hye.

8Shee had vpon a gowne of blacke veluett,(A pittyffull sight after yee shall see:)'Put of thy clothes, bonny wenche,' he sayes,'For noe ffoote further thoust gang with mee.'

9But then shee put of her gowne of veluett,With many a salt teare from her eye,And in a kirtle of ffine breaden silkeShee stood beffore young Andrews eye.

10Sais, O put off thy kirtle of silke,Ffor some and all shall goe with mee;And to my owne lady I must itt beare,Who I must needs loue better then thee.

11Then shee put of her kirtle of silke,With many a salt teare still ffrom her eye;In a peticoate of scarlett reddShee stood before young Andrewes eye.

12Saies, O put of thy peticoate,For some and all of itt shall goe with mee;And to my owne lady I will itt beare,Which dwells soe ffarr in a strange countrye.

13But then shee put of her peticoate,With many a salt teare still from her eye,And in a smocke of braue white silkeShee stood before young Andrews eye.

14Saies, O put of thy smocke of silke,For some and all shall goe with mee;Vnto my owne ladye I will itt beare,That dwells soe ffarr in a strange countrye.

15Sayes, O remember, young Andrew,Once of a woman you were borne;And fforthat birththat Marye bore,I pray you let my smocke be vpon!

16'Yes, ffayre ladye, I know itt well,Once of a woman I was borne;Yett ffor noe birththat Mary bore,Thy smocke shall not be left here vpon.'

17But then shee put of her head-geere ffine;Shee hadd billaments worth a hundred pound;The hayrethat was vpon this bony wench headCouered her bodye downe to the ground.

18Then he pulled forth a Scottish brand,And held itt there in his owne right hand;Saies, Whether wilt thou dye vpon my swords point, ladye,Or thow wilt goe naked home againe?

19'Liffe is sweet,' then, 'sir,' said shee,'Therfore I pray you leaue mee with mine;Before I wold dye on your swords point,I had rather goe naked home againe.

20'My ffather,' shee sayes, 'is a right good erleAs any remaines in his countrye;If euer he doe your body take,You'r sure to fflower a gallow tree.

21'And I haue seuen brethren,' shee sayes,'And they are all hardy men and bold;Giff euer thé doe your body take,You must neuer gang quicke ouerthe mold.'

22'If your ffather be a right good erleAs any remaines in his owne countrye,Tush! he shall neuer my body take,I'le gang soe ffast ouer the sea.

23'If you haue seuen brethren,' he sayes,'If they be neuersoe hardy or bold,Tush! they shall neuermy body take,I'le gang soe ffast into the Scottish mold.'

24Now this ladye is gone to her fathers hall,When euery body their rest did take;But the Erle which was her ffatherLay waken for his deere daughters sake.

25'But who isthat,' her ffather can say,'That soe priuilye knowes the pinn?''It's Hellen, your owne deere daughter, ffather,I pray you rise and lett me in.'

26. . . . . . .'Noe, by my hood!' quoth her ffather then,'My [house] thoust neuer come within,Without I had my red gold againe.'

27'Nay, your gold is gone, ffather!' said shee,. . . . . . .'Then naked thou came into this world,And naked thou shalt returne againe.'

28'Nay! God fforgaue his death, father,' shee sayes,'And soe I hope you will doe mee;''Away, away, thou cursed woman,I pray God an ill death thou may dye!'

29Shee stood soe long quacking on the groundTill her hart itt burst in three;And then shee ffell dead downe in a swoond,And this was the end of this bonny ladye.

30Ithe morning, when her ffather gott vpp,A pittyffull sight there he might see;His owne deere daughter was dead, without clothes,The teares they trickeled fast ffrom his eye.

31. . . . . . .Sais, Fye of gold, and ffye of ffee!For I sett soe much by my red goldThat now itt hath lost both my daughter and mee!'

32. . . . . . .But after this time he neere dought good day,But as flowers doth fade in the frost,Soe he did wast and weare away.

33But let vs leaue talking of this ladye,And talke some more of young Andrew;Ffor ffalse he was to this bonny ladye,More pittythat he had not beene true.

34He was not gone a mile into the wild forrest,Or halfe a mile into the hart of Wales,But there they cought him by such a braue wyleThat hee must come to tell noe more tales.

* * * * *

35. . . . . . .Ffull soone a wolfe did of him smell,And shee came roaring like a beare,And gaping like a ffeend of hell.

36Soe they ffought together like two lyons,And fire betweene them two glashet out;Thé raught eche other such a great rappe,That there young Andrew was slaine, well I wott.

37But now young Andrew he is dead,But he was neuer buryed vnder mold,For ther as the wolfe devoured him,There lyes all this great erles gold.

13. of one.33. 2.se, 3.se.74. to one. 172. 100_{:}li.191. My liffe.252.that pinn.303.anyfollowswithout, but is crossed out.304. they teares.334. itt had.Arabic numbers are in several cases expressed in letters.

13. of one.

33. 2.se, 3.se.

74. to one. 172. 100_{:}li.

191. My liffe.

252.that pinn.

303.anyfollowswithout, but is crossed out.

304. they teares.

334. itt had.

Arabic numbers are in several cases expressed in letters.

A.Sharpe's Ballad Book, p. 56, No 19.B.'The Cruel Brother,' Motherwell's MS., p. 259. From the recitation of Mrs McCormick.C.'The Twa Brithers,' Motherwell's MS., p. 649. From the recitation of Mrs Cunningham.D.'The Twa Brothers, or, The Wood o Warslin,' Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 59. From the recitation of Mrs Arrott.E.'The Twa Brothers,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 60.F.'The Two Brothers,' Buchan's MSS, I, 57; Motherwell's MS., p. 662.G. a.'John and William,' taken down from the singing of little girls in South Boston.b.From a child in New York. Both communicated by Mr W. W. Newell.

A.Sharpe's Ballad Book, p. 56, No 19.

B.'The Cruel Brother,' Motherwell's MS., p. 259. From the recitation of Mrs McCormick.

C.'The Twa Brithers,' Motherwell's MS., p. 649. From the recitation of Mrs Cunningham.

D.'The Twa Brothers, or, The Wood o Warslin,' Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 59. From the recitation of Mrs Arrott.

E.'The Twa Brothers,' Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 60.

F.'The Two Brothers,' Buchan's MSS, I, 57; Motherwell's MS., p. 662.

G. a.'John and William,' taken down from the singing of little girls in South Boston.b.From a child in New York. Both communicated by Mr W. W. Newell.

All the Scottish versions were obtained within the first third of this century, and since then no others have been heard of. It is interesting to find the ballad still in the mouths of children in American cities,—in the mouths of the poorest, whose heritage these old things are.[401]The American versions, though greatly damaged, preserve the names John and William, which all the other copies have.

BandCare considerably corrupted. It need hardly be mentioned that the age of the boys in the first two stanzas ofBdoes not suit the story. According toC8, 15, the mother had cursed John, before he left home, with a wish that he might never return; and inC9, John sends word to his true-love that he is in his grave for her dear sake alone. These points seem to have been taken from some copy of 'Willie and May Margaret,' or 'The Drowned Lovers.' The conclusion of bothBandCbelongs to 'Sweet William's Ghost.'C18 may be corrected byB10, though there is an absurd jumble of pipes and harp in the latter. The harp, in a deft hand, effects like wonders in many a ballad: e. g., 'Harpens Kraft,' Grundtvig, II, 65, No 40; even a pipe inC14-16 of the same.

D,E,F,Gsupplement the story with more or less of the ballad of 'Edward:' see p. 168.

Jamieson inquires for this ballad in the Scots Magazine for October, 1803, p. 701, at which time he had only the first stanza and the first half of the third. He fills out the imperfect stanza nearly as in the copy which he afterwards printed:

But out an Willie's taen his knife,And did his brother slay.

Of the five other Scottish versions, all exceptBmake the deadly wound to be the result of accident, and this is, in Motherwell's view, a point essential. The other reading, he says, is at variance with the rest of the story, and "sweeps away the deep impression this simple ballad would otherwise have made upon the feelings: for it is almost unnecessary to mention that its touching interest is made to centre in the boundless sorrow and cureless remorse of him who had been the unintentional cause of his brother's death, and in the solicitude which that high-minded and generous spirit expresses, even in the last agonies of nature, for the safety and fortunes of the truly wretched and unhappy survivor." But the generosity of the dying man is plainly greater if his brother has killed him in an outburst of passion; and what is gained this waywill fully offset the loss, if any, which comes from the fratricide having cause for "cureless remorse" as well as boundless sorrow. Motherwell's criticism, in fact, is not quite intelligible. (Minstrelsy, p. 61.)

The variation in the story is the same as that between the English 'Cruel Brother' and the German 'Graf Friedrich:' in the former the bride is killed by her offended brother; in the latter it is the bridegroom's sword slipping from its sheath that inflicts the mortal hurt.

Motherwell was inclined to believe, and Kirkpatrick Sharpe was convinced, that this ballad was founded upon an event that happened near Edinburgh as late as 1589, that of one of the Somervilles having been killed by his brother's pistol accidentally going off. Sharpe afterward found a case of a boy of thirteen killing a young brother in anger at having his hair pulled. This most melancholy story, the particulars of which are given in the last edition of the Ballad Book, p. 130, note xix, dates nearly a hundred years later, 1682. Only the briefest mention need be made of these unusually gratuitous surmises.

Kirkland, inD, was probably suggested by the kirkyard of other versions, assisted, possibly, by a reminiscence of the Kirkley in 'Robin Hood's Death and Burial;' for it will be observed that stanzas 8, 9 ofDcome pretty near to those in which Robin Hood gives direction for his grave;F9, 10,B5, 6 less near.[402]

Cunningham has entitled a romance of his, upon the theme of 'The Two Brothers' (which, once more, he ventures to print nearly in the state in which he once had the pleasure of hearing it sung), 'Fair Annie of Kirkland:' Songs of Scotland, II, 16.

The very pathetic passage in which the dying youth directs that father, mother, and sister shall be kept in ignorance of his death, and then, feeling how vain the attempt to conceal the fact from his true-love will be, bids that she be informed that he is in his grave and will never come back, is too truly a touch of nature to be found only here. Something similar occurs in 'Mary Hamilton,' where, however, the circumstances are very different:

'And here's to the jolly sailor ladThat sails upon the faeme!And let not my father nor mother get witBut that I shall come again.'And here's to the jolly sailor ladThat sails upon the sea!But let not my father nor mother get witO the death that I maun dee.'

'And here's to the jolly sailor ladThat sails upon the faeme!And let not my father nor mother get witBut that I shall come again.

'And here's to the jolly sailor ladThat sails upon the sea!But let not my father nor mother get witO the death that I maun dee.'

In a fine Norse ballad (see 'Brown Robyn's Confession,' further on) a man who is to be thrown overboard to save a ship takes his leave of the world with these words:

'If any of you should get back to land,And my foster-mother ask for me,Tell her I'm serving in the king's court,And living right merrily.'If any of you should get back to land,And my true-love ask for me,Bid her to marry another man,For I am under the sea.'

'If any of you should get back to land,And my foster-mother ask for me,Tell her I'm serving in the king's court,And living right merrily.

'If any of you should get back to land,And my true-love ask for me,Bid her to marry another man,For I am under the sea.'

A baron, who has been mortally wounded in a duel, gives this charge to his servant:

'Faites mes compliments à ma femme,Mais ne lui dites pas que j'ai été tué;Mais dites lui que je serai allé à Paris,Pour saluer le roi Louis.'Dites que je serai allé à Paris,Pour saluer le roi Louis,Et que j'ai acheté un nouveau cheval,Le petit cœur de mon cheval était trop gai.'

'Faites mes compliments à ma femme,Mais ne lui dites pas que j'ai été tué;Mais dites lui que je serai allé à Paris,Pour saluer le roi Louis.

'Dites que je serai allé à Paris,Pour saluer le roi Louis,Et que j'ai acheté un nouveau cheval,Le petit cœur de mon cheval était trop gai.'

(Le Seigneur de Rosmadec, Luzel, I, 368/369, 374/375.)

In like manner a dying klepht: "If our comrades ask about me, tell them not that I have died: say only that I have married in strange lands; have taken the flat stone for mother-in-law, the black earth for my wife, the black worms for brothers-in-law." Zambelios, p. 606, No 11, Fauriel, I, 51, Passow, p. 118, No 152; and again, Zambelios, p. 672, No 94, Passow, p. 113, No 146. In the Danish 'Elveskud,' Grundtvig, II, 115, No 47, B* 18, Ole would simply have the tragic truth kept from his bride:

'Hearken, Sir Ole, of mickle pride,How shall I answer thy young bride?''You must say I am gone to the wood,To prove horse and hounds, if they be good.'

'Hearken, Sir Ole, of mickle pride,How shall I answer thy young bride?'

'You must say I am gone to the wood,To prove horse and hounds, if they be good.'

Such questions and answers as we have inD20,E17,F24, are of the commonest occurrence in popular poetry, and not unknown to the poetry of art. Ballads of the 'Edward' class end generally or always in this way: see p.168. We have again the particular question and answer which occur here in 'Lizie Wan' and in one version of 'The Trooper and Fair Maid,' Jamieson's Popular Ballads, II, 158. The question may be: When will you come back? When shall you cease to love me? When shall we be married? etc.; and the answer: When apple-trees grow in the seas; when fishes fly and seas gang dry; when all streams run together; when all swift streams are still; when it snows roses and rains wine; when all grass is rue; when the nightingale sings on the sea and the cuckoo is heard in winter; when poplars bear cherries and oaks roses; when feathers sink and stones swim; when sand sown on a stone germinates, etc., etc. See Virgil, Ecl. i, 59-63; Ovid, Met. xiii, 324-27; Wolf, Ueber die Lais, p. 433; 'Svend Vonved,' Grundtvig, I, 240, No 18,A,D; Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, 'Lord Jamie Douglas,' I, 232 f, Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. vii, Kinloch, Finlay, etc.; Pills to Purge Melancholy, V, 37; 'Der verwundete Knabe,' 'Die verwundete Dame,' Mittler, Nos 49-53, Erk's Liederhort, pp 111-115, Wunderhorn, IV, 358-63, Longard, p. 39, No 18, Pröhle, Welt. u. geist. Volkslieder, p. 12, No 6; Meinert, pp 28, 60, 73; Uhland, p. 127, No 65; Wunderhorn (1857), II, 223, Reifferscheid, p. 23, Liederhort, p. 345, Erk, Neue Sammlung, ii, 39, Kretzschmer, I, 143; Zuccalmaglio, pp 103, 153, 595; Peter, Volksthümliches aus Öst.-schlesien, I, 274; Ditfurth, II, 9, No 10; Fiedler, p. 187; Des Turcken Vassnachtspiel, Tieck's Deutsches Theater, I, 8; Uhland, Zur Geschichte der Dichtung, III, 216 ff; Tigri, Canti popolari toscani (1860), pp 230-242, Nos 820, 822, 823, 832, 836-40, 857, 858, 862, 868; Visconti, Saggio dei Canti p. della Provincia di Marritima e Campagna, p. 21, No 18; Nino, Saggio di Canti p. sabinesi, p. 28 f, p. 30 f; Pitrè, Saggi di Critica letteraria, p. 25; Braga, Cantos p. do Archipelago açoriano, p. 220; Möckesch, Romänische Dichtungen, p. 6 f, No 2; Passow, p. 273 f, Nos 387, 388; B. Schmidt, Griechische Märchen, etc., p. 154, No 10, and note, p. 253; Morosi, Studi sui Dialetti greci della Terra d'Otranto, p. 30, lxxv, p. 32, lxxix; Pellegrini, Canti p. dei Greci di Cargese, p. 21; De Rada, Rapsodie d'un Poema albanese, p. 29; Haupt u. Schmaler, Volkslieder der Wenden, I, 76, No 47, I, 182, No 158, I, 299, No 300; Altmann, Balalaika, Russische Volkslieder, p. 233, No 184; Golovatsky, Narodnyya Piesni galitzskoy i ugorskoy Rusi, II, 585, No 18, III, i, 12, No 9; Maximovitch, Sbornik ukrainskikh Pyesen, p. 7, No 1, p. 107, No 30; Dozon, Chansons p. bulgares, p. 283, No 57; Bodenstedt, Die poetische Ukraine, p. 46, No 14; Jordan, Ueber kleinrussische Volkspoesie, Blätter für lit. Unterhaltung, 1840, No 252, p. 1014 (Uhland); Rhesa, Ueber litthauische Volkspoesie, in Beiträge zur Kunde Preussens, I, 523; Aigner, Ungarische Volksdichtungen, pp 147, 149: etc.

Ais translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 168; Afzelius, III, 7; Grimm, Drei altschottische Lieder, p. 5; Talvi, Charakteristik, p. 567; Rosa Warrens, Schottische V. L. der Vorzeit, p. 91. Knortz, Schottische Balladen, No 4, translates Aytoun, I, 193.

Sharpe's Ballad Book, p. 56, No 19.

1There were twa brethren in the north,They went to the school thegither;The one unto the other said,Will you try a warsle afore?2They warsled up, they warsled down,Till Sir John fell to the ground,And there was a knife in Sir Willie's pouch,Gied him a deadlie wound.3'Oh brither dear, take me on your back,Carry me to yon burn clear,And wash the blood from off my wound,And it will bleed nae mair.'4He took him up upon his back,Carried him to yon burn clear,And washd the blood from off his wound,But aye it bled the mair.5'Oh brither dear, take me on your back,Carry me to yon kirk-yard,And dig a grave baith wide and deep,And lay my body there.'6He's taen him up upon his back,Carried him to yon kirk-yard,And dug a grave baith deep and wide,And laid his body there.7'But what will I say to my father dear,Gin he chance to say, Willie, whar's John?''Oh say that he's to England gone,To buy him a cask of wine.'8'And what will I say to my mother dear,Gin she chance to say, Willie, whar's John?''Oh say that he's to England gone,To buy her a new silk gown.'9'And what will I say to my sister dear,Gin she chance to say, Willie, whar's John?''Oh say that he's to England gone,To buy her a wedding ring.'10'But what will I say to her you loe dear,Gin she cry, Why tarries my John?''Oh tell her I lie in Kirk-land fair,And home again will never come.'

1There were twa brethren in the north,They went to the school thegither;The one unto the other said,Will you try a warsle afore?

2They warsled up, they warsled down,Till Sir John fell to the ground,And there was a knife in Sir Willie's pouch,Gied him a deadlie wound.

3'Oh brither dear, take me on your back,Carry me to yon burn clear,And wash the blood from off my wound,And it will bleed nae mair.'

4He took him up upon his back,Carried him to yon burn clear,And washd the blood from off his wound,But aye it bled the mair.

5'Oh brither dear, take me on your back,Carry me to yon kirk-yard,And dig a grave baith wide and deep,And lay my body there.'

6He's taen him up upon his back,Carried him to yon kirk-yard,And dug a grave baith deep and wide,And laid his body there.

7'But what will I say to my father dear,Gin he chance to say, Willie, whar's John?''Oh say that he's to England gone,To buy him a cask of wine.'

8'And what will I say to my mother dear,Gin she chance to say, Willie, whar's John?''Oh say that he's to England gone,To buy her a new silk gown.'

9'And what will I say to my sister dear,Gin she chance to say, Willie, whar's John?''Oh say that he's to England gone,To buy her a wedding ring.'

10'But what will I say to her you loe dear,Gin she cry, Why tarries my John?''Oh tell her I lie in Kirk-land fair,And home again will never come.'

Motherwell's MS., p. 259. From Widow McCormick, January 19, 1825.

1There was two little boys going to the school,And twa little boys they be,They met three brothers playing at the ba,And ladies dansing hey.2'It's whether will ye play at the ba, brither,Or else throw at the stone?''I am too little, I am too young,O brother let me alone.'3He pulled out a little penknife,That was baith sharp and sma,He gave his brother a deadly woundThat was deep, long and sair.4He took the holland sark off his back,He tore it frae breast to gare,He laid it to the bloody wound,That still bled mair and mair.5'It's take me on your back, brother,' he says,'And carry me to yon kirk-yard,And make me there a very fine grave,That will be long and large.6'Lay my bible at my head,' he says,'My chaunter at my feet,My bow and arrows by my side,And soundly I will sleep.7'When you go home, brother,' he says,'My father will ask for me;You may tell him I am in Saussif town,Learning my lesson free.8'When you go home, brother,' he says,'My mother will ask for me;You may tell her I am in Sausaf town,And I'll come home merrily.9'When you go home, brother,' he says,'Lady Margaret will ask for me;You may tell her I'm dead and in grave laid,And buried in Sausaff toun.'10She put the small pipes to her mouth,And she harped both far and near,Till she harped the small birds off the briers,And her true love out of the grave.11'What's this? what's this, lady Margaret?' he says,'What's this you want of me?''One sweet kiss of your ruby lips,That's all I want of thee.'12'My lips they are so bitter,' he says,'My breath it is so strong,If you get one kiss of my ruby lips,Your days will not be long.'

1There was two little boys going to the school,And twa little boys they be,They met three brothers playing at the ba,And ladies dansing hey.

2'It's whether will ye play at the ba, brither,Or else throw at the stone?''I am too little, I am too young,O brother let me alone.'

3He pulled out a little penknife,That was baith sharp and sma,He gave his brother a deadly woundThat was deep, long and sair.

4He took the holland sark off his back,He tore it frae breast to gare,He laid it to the bloody wound,That still bled mair and mair.

5'It's take me on your back, brother,' he says,'And carry me to yon kirk-yard,And make me there a very fine grave,That will be long and large.

6'Lay my bible at my head,' he says,'My chaunter at my feet,My bow and arrows by my side,And soundly I will sleep.

7'When you go home, brother,' he says,'My father will ask for me;You may tell him I am in Saussif town,Learning my lesson free.

8'When you go home, brother,' he says,'My mother will ask for me;You may tell her I am in Sausaf town,And I'll come home merrily.

9'When you go home, brother,' he says,'Lady Margaret will ask for me;You may tell her I'm dead and in grave laid,And buried in Sausaff toun.'

10She put the small pipes to her mouth,And she harped both far and near,Till she harped the small birds off the briers,And her true love out of the grave.

11'What's this? what's this, lady Margaret?' he says,'What's this you want of me?''One sweet kiss of your ruby lips,That's all I want of thee.'

12'My lips they are so bitter,' he says,'My breath it is so strong,If you get one kiss of my ruby lips,Your days will not be long.'

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