FOOTNOTES:

FOOTNOTES:[108]Several of Buchan's ballads, says Sir Walter Scott, Minstrelsy, I, 87, ed. 1833, "are translated from the Norse, and Mr Buchan is probably unacquainted with the originals." Scott seems to have meant only that the ballads in question had a Norse origin, not that they were deliberately translated within what we may call historical times. In this particular instance the resemblances with the Norse are remarkably close, but the very homeliness of the Scottish ballad precludes any suspicion beyond tampering with tradition. The silliness and fulsome vulgarity of Buchan's versions often enough make one wince or sicken, and many of them came through bad mouths or hands: we have even positive proof in one instance of imposture, though not of Buchan's being a conscious party to the imposture. But such correspondences with foreign ballads as we witness in the present case are evidence of a genuine traditional foundation.Stanzas 25, 26 are remarkably likeF3, 5 of 'Earl Brand,' the Percy copy, and may have served in some Scottish version of the 'Douglas Tragedy.'Stanzas 36-41 are borrowed from the 'Knight and Shepherd's Daughter.' Folly could not go further than in making the mother clip her locks and kilt her clothes, as in 36: unless it be in making a boat of a coat and a topmast of a cane, as in 3, 4.[109]Translated by Prior, III, 234.[110]In DanishBthe maid has grace enough to weep for her brothers seven: "and almost more for the knight." But this last line is probably taken up from another ballad. In 'Herr Helmer,' a ballad which has some of the traits of 'Ribold,' Afzelius, No 54, II, 178, 226, Arwidsson, No 21, I, 155, Eva Wigström, Folkdiktning, I, 25, and the same, Skånska Visor, p. 1, Helmer kills six of his love's seven brothers, and is treacherously slain by the seventh, whom he has spared. The seventh brother cuts off Helmer's head and takes it to his sister. A Danish version of 'Herr Helmer,' Danske Viser, No 209, IV, 251, ends differently: the seventh brother offers his sister to Helmer as ransom for his life.

[108]Several of Buchan's ballads, says Sir Walter Scott, Minstrelsy, I, 87, ed. 1833, "are translated from the Norse, and Mr Buchan is probably unacquainted with the originals." Scott seems to have meant only that the ballads in question had a Norse origin, not that they were deliberately translated within what we may call historical times. In this particular instance the resemblances with the Norse are remarkably close, but the very homeliness of the Scottish ballad precludes any suspicion beyond tampering with tradition. The silliness and fulsome vulgarity of Buchan's versions often enough make one wince or sicken, and many of them came through bad mouths or hands: we have even positive proof in one instance of imposture, though not of Buchan's being a conscious party to the imposture. But such correspondences with foreign ballads as we witness in the present case are evidence of a genuine traditional foundation.Stanzas 25, 26 are remarkably likeF3, 5 of 'Earl Brand,' the Percy copy, and may have served in some Scottish version of the 'Douglas Tragedy.'Stanzas 36-41 are borrowed from the 'Knight and Shepherd's Daughter.' Folly could not go further than in making the mother clip her locks and kilt her clothes, as in 36: unless it be in making a boat of a coat and a topmast of a cane, as in 3, 4.

Stanzas 25, 26 are remarkably likeF3, 5 of 'Earl Brand,' the Percy copy, and may have served in some Scottish version of the 'Douglas Tragedy.'

Stanzas 36-41 are borrowed from the 'Knight and Shepherd's Daughter.' Folly could not go further than in making the mother clip her locks and kilt her clothes, as in 36: unless it be in making a boat of a coat and a topmast of a cane, as in 3, 4.

[109]Translated by Prior, III, 234.

[110]In DanishBthe maid has grace enough to weep for her brothers seven: "and almost more for the knight." But this last line is probably taken up from another ballad. In 'Herr Helmer,' a ballad which has some of the traits of 'Ribold,' Afzelius, No 54, II, 178, 226, Arwidsson, No 21, I, 155, Eva Wigström, Folkdiktning, I, 25, and the same, Skånska Visor, p. 1, Helmer kills six of his love's seven brothers, and is treacherously slain by the seventh, whom he has spared. The seventh brother cuts off Helmer's head and takes it to his sister. A Danish version of 'Herr Helmer,' Danske Viser, No 209, IV, 251, ends differently: the seventh brother offers his sister to Helmer as ransom for his life.

A.'The Clerk's Twa Sons o Owsenford,' Kinloch MSS, V, 403.B.'The Clerks o Owsenfoord,' Dr Joseph Robertson's Note-Book, "Adversaria," p. 67.C.'The Clerks of Oxenford,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 281.D.'The Clerks Two Sons of Oxenfoord,' Motherwell's MS., p. 433.

A.'The Clerk's Twa Sons o Owsenford,' Kinloch MSS, V, 403.

B.'The Clerks o Owsenfoord,' Dr Joseph Robertson's Note-Book, "Adversaria," p. 67.

C.'The Clerks of Oxenford,' Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 281.

D.'The Clerks Two Sons of Oxenfoord,' Motherwell's MS., p. 433.

A, as sung, had a sequel of six stanzas, which is found separately and seems to belong with another ballad, 'The Wife of Usher's Well.' Robert Chambers combinedAwith Buchan's version,C, and the six concluding stanzas with 'The Wife of Usher's Well,' and divided his ballad into two parts, "on account of the great superiority of what follows over what goes before, and because the latter portion is in a great measure independent of the other:" The Scottish Ballads, pp 345-50. His second reason for a division is better than his first. It is quite according to precedent for a ballad to end with a vow like that inA17,D14: see 'Clerk Saunders.'

Dhas some amusing dashes of prose, evidently of masculine origin: "They thought their father's service mean, their mother's no great affair," 2; "When he was certain of the fact, an angry man was he," 6; "That I may ride to fair Berwick, and see what can be done," 8. We have here a strong contrast with both the blind-beggar and the housemaid style of corruption; something suggesting the attorney's clerk rather than the clerk of Owsenford, but at least not mawkish.

There are ballads both in Northern and in Southern Europe which have a certain amount of likeness with 'The Clerk's Twa Sons,' but if the story of all derives from one original, time has introduced great and even unusual variations.

In the Scottish ballad two youths go to Paris to study, and have an amour with the mayor's daughters, for which they are thrown into prison and condemned to be hanged. The Clerk, their father, comes to the prison, asks them what is their offence, and learns that it is a little dear bought love. He offers the mayor a ransom for their lives, and is sternly refused. The mayor's two daughters beg for their true-love's lives with the same bad success. The students are hanged, and the father goes home to tell his wife that they are put to a higher school. She,A[he,D], vows to pass the rest of her days in penance and grief.

A very well known German ballad, foundalso in the Low Countries and in Scandinavia, has the following story.[111]A youth is lying in a dungeon, condemned to be hanged. His father comes to the town, and they exchange words about the severity of his prison. The father then goes to the lord of the place and offers three hundred florins as a ransom. Ransom is refused: the boy has a gold chain on his neck which will be his death. The father says that the chain was not stolen, but the gift of a young lady, who reared the boy as a page, or what not. There is no dear bought love in the case. The father, standing by the gallows, threatens revenge, but his son deprecates that: he cares not so much for his life as for his mother's grief. Within a bare half year, more than three hundred men pay with their lives for the death of the boy.[112]

A Spanish and Italian ballad has resemblances with the Scottish and the German, and may possibly be a common link: 'Los tres estudiantes,' Milá, Romancerillo, p. 165, No 208,A-L, previously, in Observaciones, etc., p. 104, No 6, 'Los estudiantes de Tolosa;' 'Los estudians de Tortosa,' Briz y Candi, I, 101; 'Gli scolari di Tolosa,' Nigra, Rivista Contemporanea, XX, 62. Three students meet three girls, and attempt some little jests with them: ask them for a kiss, Milá,H; throw small pebbles at them, Milá,D; meet one girl on a bridge and kiss her, Nigra. For this the girls have them arrested by an accommodating catchpoll, and they are hanged by a peremptory judge. The youngest student weeps all the time; the eldest tries to console him; their brother serves a king or duke, and if he hears of what has been done will kill judge, constable, and all their scribes. The brother gets word somehow, and comes with all speed, but the three clerks are hanged before he arrives. He gives the town of Tolosa to the flames, the streets run with the blood of the judge, and horses swim in the blood of the girls, Milá,C, Briz; the streets are washed with the blood of women, walls built of the heads of men, Milá,A; etc.

In a pretty passage in Buchan's not altogether trustworthy version,C35-38, the clerks ask back their faith and troth before they die. For this ceremony see 'Sweet William's Ghost.'

Aytoun's ballad is translated by Knortz Schottische Balladen, p. 72, No 23.

Kinloch MSS, V, 403, in the handwriting of James Chambers, as sung to his maternal grandmother, Janet Grieve, seventy years before, by an old woman, a Miss Ann Gray, of Neidpath Castle, Peeblesshire; January 1, 1829.

1O I will sing to you a sang,But oh my heart is sair!The clerk's twa sons in OwsenfordHas to learn some unco lair.2They hadna been in fair ParishA twelvemonth an a day,Till the clerk's twa sons o OwsenfordWi the mayor's twa daughters lay.3O word's gaen to the mighty mayor,As he saild on the sea,That the clerk's twa sons o OwsenfordWi his twa daughters lay.4'If they hae lain wi my twa daughters,Meg an Marjorie,The morn, or I taste meat or drink,They shall be hangit hie.'5O word's gaen to the clerk himself,As he sat drinkin wine,That his twa sons in fair ParishWere bound in prison strong.6Then up and spak the clerk's ladye,And she spak powrfully:'O tak with ye a purse of gold,Or take with ye three,And if ye canna get William,Bring Andrew hame to me.'* * * * *7'O lye ye here for owsen, dear sons,Or lie ye here for kye?Or what is it that ye lie for,Sae sair bound as ye lie?'8'We lie not here for owsen, dear father,Nor yet lie here for kye,But it's for a little o dear bought loveSae sair bound as we lie.'9O he's gane to the mighty mayor,And he spoke powerfully:'Will ye grant me my twa sons' lives,Either for gold or fee?Or will ye be sae gude a manAs grant them baith to me?'10'I'll no grant ye yere twa sons' lives,Neither for gold or fee,Nor will I be sae gude a manAs gie them back to thee;Before the morn at twelve o'clockYe'll see them hangit hie.'11Up an spak his twa daughters,An they spak powrfully:'Will ye grant us our twa loves' lives,Either for gold or fee?Or will ye be sae gude a manAs grant them baith to me.'12'I'll no grant ye yere twa loves' lives,Neither for gold or fee,Nor will I be sae gude a manAs grant their lives to thee;Before the morn at twelve o'clockYe'll see them hangit hie.'13O he's taen out these proper youths,And hangd them on a tree,And he's bidden the clerk o OwsenfordGang hame to his ladie.14His lady sits on yon castle-wa,Beholding dale an doun,An there she saw her ain gude lordCome walkin to the toun.15'Ye're welcome, welcome, my ain gude lord,Ye're welcome hame to me;But where away are my twa sons?Ye should hae brought them wi ye.'16'It's I've putten them to a deeper lair,An to a higher schule;Yere ain twa sons ill no be hereTill the hallow days o Yule.'17'O sorrow, sorrow come mak my bed,An dool come lay me doon!For I'll neither eat nor drink,Nor set a fit on ground.'

1O I will sing to you a sang,But oh my heart is sair!The clerk's twa sons in OwsenfordHas to learn some unco lair.

2They hadna been in fair ParishA twelvemonth an a day,Till the clerk's twa sons o OwsenfordWi the mayor's twa daughters lay.

3O word's gaen to the mighty mayor,As he saild on the sea,That the clerk's twa sons o OwsenfordWi his twa daughters lay.

4'If they hae lain wi my twa daughters,Meg an Marjorie,The morn, or I taste meat or drink,They shall be hangit hie.'

5O word's gaen to the clerk himself,As he sat drinkin wine,That his twa sons in fair ParishWere bound in prison strong.

6Then up and spak the clerk's ladye,And she spak powrfully:'O tak with ye a purse of gold,Or take with ye three,And if ye canna get William,Bring Andrew hame to me.'

* * * * *

7'O lye ye here for owsen, dear sons,Or lie ye here for kye?Or what is it that ye lie for,Sae sair bound as ye lie?'

8'We lie not here for owsen, dear father,Nor yet lie here for kye,But it's for a little o dear bought loveSae sair bound as we lie.'

9O he's gane to the mighty mayor,And he spoke powerfully:'Will ye grant me my twa sons' lives,Either for gold or fee?Or will ye be sae gude a manAs grant them baith to me?'

10'I'll no grant ye yere twa sons' lives,Neither for gold or fee,Nor will I be sae gude a manAs gie them back to thee;Before the morn at twelve o'clockYe'll see them hangit hie.'

11Up an spak his twa daughters,An they spak powrfully:'Will ye grant us our twa loves' lives,Either for gold or fee?Or will ye be sae gude a manAs grant them baith to me.'

12'I'll no grant ye yere twa loves' lives,Neither for gold or fee,Nor will I be sae gude a manAs grant their lives to thee;Before the morn at twelve o'clockYe'll see them hangit hie.'

13O he's taen out these proper youths,And hangd them on a tree,And he's bidden the clerk o OwsenfordGang hame to his ladie.

14His lady sits on yon castle-wa,Beholding dale an doun,An there she saw her ain gude lordCome walkin to the toun.

15'Ye're welcome, welcome, my ain gude lord,Ye're welcome hame to me;But where away are my twa sons?Ye should hae brought them wi ye.'

16'It's I've putten them to a deeper lair,An to a higher schule;Yere ain twa sons ill no be hereTill the hallow days o Yule.'

17'O sorrow, sorrow come mak my bed,An dool come lay me doon!For I'll neither eat nor drink,Nor set a fit on ground.'

Noted down from a female servant by Dr Joseph Robertson, July 15, 1829; "Adversaria," p. 67.

* * * * *

1'De weel, de weel, my twa young sons,An learn weel at the squeel;Tak no up wi young women-kin,An learn to act the feel.'2But they had na been in BlomsburyA twalmon and a day,Till the twa pretty clerks o OwsenfoordWi the mayr's dauchters did lay.3Word has gaen till the auld base mayr,As he sat at his wine,That the twa pretty clerks o OwsenfordWi his daughters had lien.4Then out bespak the auld base mayr,An an angry man was he:'Tomorrow, before I eat meat or drink,I'll see them hanged hie.'5But word has gaen to Owsenfoord. . . . . . .Before the letter was read,She let the tears doun fa.* * * * *6'Your sons are weel, an verra weel,An learnin at the squeel;But I fear ye winna see your sonsAt the holy days o Yeel.'7Their father he went to Bloomsbury,He turnit him roun about,An there he saw his twa braw sons,In the prison, leukin out.8'O lie ye there for owsen, my sons,Or lie ye there for kye?Or lie ye there for dear fond love,Si closs as ye de lie?'9'We lie na here for owsen, father,We lie na here for kye,But we lie here for dear fond love,An we're condemned to die.'* * * * *10Then out bespak the clerks' fader,An a sorry man was he:'Gae till your bowers, ye lillie-flowers,For a' this winna dee.'11Then out bespak the aul base mayr,An an angry man was he:'Gar to your bowers, ye vile base whores,Ye'll see them hanged hie.'* * * * *

1'De weel, de weel, my twa young sons,An learn weel at the squeel;Tak no up wi young women-kin,An learn to act the feel.'

2But they had na been in BlomsburyA twalmon and a day,Till the twa pretty clerks o OwsenfoordWi the mayr's dauchters did lay.

3Word has gaen till the auld base mayr,As he sat at his wine,That the twa pretty clerks o OwsenfordWi his daughters had lien.

4Then out bespak the auld base mayr,An an angry man was he:'Tomorrow, before I eat meat or drink,I'll see them hanged hie.'

5But word has gaen to Owsenfoord. . . . . . .Before the letter was read,She let the tears doun fa.

* * * * *

6'Your sons are weel, an verra weel,An learnin at the squeel;But I fear ye winna see your sonsAt the holy days o Yeel.'

7Their father he went to Bloomsbury,He turnit him roun about,An there he saw his twa braw sons,In the prison, leukin out.

8'O lie ye there for owsen, my sons,Or lie ye there for kye?Or lie ye there for dear fond love,Si closs as ye de lie?'

9'We lie na here for owsen, father,We lie na here for kye,But we lie here for dear fond love,An we're condemned to die.'

* * * * *

10Then out bespak the clerks' fader,An a sorry man was he:'Gae till your bowers, ye lillie-flowers,For a' this winna dee.'

11Then out bespak the aul base mayr,An an angry man was he:'Gar to your bowers, ye vile base whores,Ye'll see them hanged hie.'

* * * * *

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 281.

1I'll tell you a tale, or I'll sing you a song,Will grieve your heart full sair;How the twa bonny clerks o OxenfordWent aff to learn their lear.2Their father lovd them very weel,Their mother muckle mair,And sent them on to Billsbury,To learn deeper lear.3Then out it spake their mother dear:'Do weel, my sons, do weel,And haunt not wi the young women,Wi them to play the fiel.'4Their father sware them on their souls,Their mother on their life,Never to lie wi the auld mayor's daughters,Nor kiss the young mayor's wife.5But they hadna been in BillsburyA twallmonth and a day,Till the twa bonny clerks o OxenfordWith the mayor's twa daughters lay.6As these twa clerks they sat and wrote,The ladies sewed and sang;There was mair mirth in that chamberThan all fair Ferrol's land.7But word's gane to the wicked mayor,As he sat at the wine,That the twa bonny clerks o OxenfordWith his twa daughters had lyne.8'O have they lain with my daughters dear,Heirs out ower a' my land,The morn, ere I eat or drink,I'll hang them with my hand.'9Then he has taen the twa bonny clerks,Bound them frae tap to tae,Till the reddest blood in their bodyOut ower their nails did gae.10'Whare will I get a little wee boy,Will win gowd to his fee,That will rin on to Oxenford,And that right speedilie?'11Then up it starts a bonny boy,Gold yellow was his hair;I wish his father and mother joy,His true-love muckle mair.12Says, Here am I, a little wee boy,Will win gowd to my fee,That will rin on to Oxenford,And that right speedilie.13'Where ye find the grass green growing,Set down your heel and rin,And where ye find the brigs broken,Ye'll bend your bow and swim.14'But when ye come to Oxenford,Bide neither to chap nor ca,But set your bent bow to your breast,And lightly loup the wa.'15Where he found the grass green growing,He slackt his shoes and ran,And where he found the brigs broken,He bent his bow and swam.16And when he came to Oxenford,Did neither chap nor ca,But set his bent bow to his breast,And lightly leapt the wa.17'What news, what news, my little wee boy?What news hae ye to me?How are my sons in Billsbury,Since they went far frae me?'18'Your sons are well, and learning well,But at a higher school,And ye'll never see your sons again,On the holy days o Yule.'19'Wi sorrow now gae make my bed,Wi care and caution lay me down;That man on earth shall neer be bornShall see me mair gang on the groun.20'Take twenty pounds in your pocket,And ten and ten to tell them wi,And gin ye getna hynde Henry,Bring ye gay Gilbert hame to me.'21Out it speaks old Oxenford,A sorry, sorry man, was he:'Your strange wish does me surprise,They are baith there alike to me.22'Wi sorrow now I'll saddle my horse,And I will gar my bridle ring,And I shall be at BillsburyBefore the small birds sweetly sing.'23Then sweetly sang the nightingale,As she sat on the wand,But sair, sair, mournd Oxenford,As he gaed in the strand.24When he came to Billsbury,He rade it round about,And at a little shott-windowHis sons were looking out.25'O lye ye there, my sons,' he said,'For oxen, or for kye?Or is it for a little o deep dear love,Sae sair bound as ye lye?'26'We lye not here, father,' they said,'For oxen, nor for kye;It's all for a little o deep dear love,Sae sair bound as we lye.27'O borrow's, borrow's, father,' they said,'For the love we bear to thee!''O never fear, my pretty sons,Well borrowed ye shall be.'28Then he's gane to the wicked mayor,And hailed him courteouslie:'Good day, good day, O Billsbury,God make you safe and free!''Come sit you down, brave Oxenford,What are your wills with me?'29'Will ye gie me my sons again,For gold or yet for fee?Will ye gie me my sons again,For's sake that died on tree?'30'I winna gie you your sons again,For gold nor yet for fee;But if ye'll stay a little while,Ye'se see them hanged hie.'31Ben it came the mayor's daughters,Wi kirtle, coat alone;Their eyes did sparkle like the gold,As they tript on the stone.32'Will ye gie us our loves, father,For gold or yet for fee?Or will ye take our own sweet life,And let our true-loves be?'33He's taen a whip into his hand,And lashd them wondrous sair:Gae to your bowers, ye vile rank whores,Ye'se never see them mair.34Then out it speaks old Oxenford,A sorry man was he:'Gang to your bowers, ye lily-flowers,For a' this maunna be.'35Out it speaks him hynde Henry:'Come here, Janet, to me;Will ye gie me my faith and troth,And love, as I gae thee?'36'Ye shall hae your faith and troth,Wi God's blessing and mine;'And twenty times she kissd his mouth,Her father looking on.37Then out it speaks him gay Gilbert:'Come here, Margaret, to me;Will ye gie me my faith and troth,And love, as I gae thee?'38'Yes, ye shall get your faith and troth,Wi God's blessing and mine;'And twenty times she kissd his mouth,Her father looking on.39'Ye'll take aff your twa black hats,Lay them down on a stone,That nane may ken that ye are clerksTill ye are putten down.'40The bonny clerks they died that morn,Their loves died lang ere noon;Their father and mother for sorrow died,They all died very soon.41These six souls went up to heaven,I wish sae may we a'!The mighty mayor went down to hell,For wrong justice and law.

1I'll tell you a tale, or I'll sing you a song,Will grieve your heart full sair;How the twa bonny clerks o OxenfordWent aff to learn their lear.

2Their father lovd them very weel,Their mother muckle mair,And sent them on to Billsbury,To learn deeper lear.

3Then out it spake their mother dear:'Do weel, my sons, do weel,And haunt not wi the young women,Wi them to play the fiel.'

4Their father sware them on their souls,Their mother on their life,Never to lie wi the auld mayor's daughters,Nor kiss the young mayor's wife.

5But they hadna been in BillsburyA twallmonth and a day,Till the twa bonny clerks o OxenfordWith the mayor's twa daughters lay.

6As these twa clerks they sat and wrote,The ladies sewed and sang;There was mair mirth in that chamberThan all fair Ferrol's land.

7But word's gane to the wicked mayor,As he sat at the wine,That the twa bonny clerks o OxenfordWith his twa daughters had lyne.

8'O have they lain with my daughters dear,Heirs out ower a' my land,The morn, ere I eat or drink,I'll hang them with my hand.'

9Then he has taen the twa bonny clerks,Bound them frae tap to tae,Till the reddest blood in their bodyOut ower their nails did gae.

10'Whare will I get a little wee boy,Will win gowd to his fee,That will rin on to Oxenford,And that right speedilie?'

11Then up it starts a bonny boy,Gold yellow was his hair;I wish his father and mother joy,His true-love muckle mair.

12Says, Here am I, a little wee boy,Will win gowd to my fee,That will rin on to Oxenford,And that right speedilie.

13'Where ye find the grass green growing,Set down your heel and rin,And where ye find the brigs broken,Ye'll bend your bow and swim.

14'But when ye come to Oxenford,Bide neither to chap nor ca,But set your bent bow to your breast,And lightly loup the wa.'

15Where he found the grass green growing,He slackt his shoes and ran,And where he found the brigs broken,He bent his bow and swam.

16And when he came to Oxenford,Did neither chap nor ca,But set his bent bow to his breast,And lightly leapt the wa.

17'What news, what news, my little wee boy?What news hae ye to me?How are my sons in Billsbury,Since they went far frae me?'

18'Your sons are well, and learning well,But at a higher school,And ye'll never see your sons again,On the holy days o Yule.'

19'Wi sorrow now gae make my bed,Wi care and caution lay me down;That man on earth shall neer be bornShall see me mair gang on the groun.

20'Take twenty pounds in your pocket,And ten and ten to tell them wi,And gin ye getna hynde Henry,Bring ye gay Gilbert hame to me.'

21Out it speaks old Oxenford,A sorry, sorry man, was he:'Your strange wish does me surprise,They are baith there alike to me.

22'Wi sorrow now I'll saddle my horse,And I will gar my bridle ring,And I shall be at BillsburyBefore the small birds sweetly sing.'

23Then sweetly sang the nightingale,As she sat on the wand,But sair, sair, mournd Oxenford,As he gaed in the strand.

24When he came to Billsbury,He rade it round about,And at a little shott-windowHis sons were looking out.

25'O lye ye there, my sons,' he said,'For oxen, or for kye?Or is it for a little o deep dear love,Sae sair bound as ye lye?'

26'We lye not here, father,' they said,'For oxen, nor for kye;It's all for a little o deep dear love,Sae sair bound as we lye.

27'O borrow's, borrow's, father,' they said,'For the love we bear to thee!''O never fear, my pretty sons,Well borrowed ye shall be.'

28Then he's gane to the wicked mayor,And hailed him courteouslie:'Good day, good day, O Billsbury,God make you safe and free!''Come sit you down, brave Oxenford,What are your wills with me?'

29'Will ye gie me my sons again,For gold or yet for fee?Will ye gie me my sons again,For's sake that died on tree?'

30'I winna gie you your sons again,For gold nor yet for fee;But if ye'll stay a little while,Ye'se see them hanged hie.'

31Ben it came the mayor's daughters,Wi kirtle, coat alone;Their eyes did sparkle like the gold,As they tript on the stone.

32'Will ye gie us our loves, father,For gold or yet for fee?Or will ye take our own sweet life,And let our true-loves be?'

33He's taen a whip into his hand,And lashd them wondrous sair:Gae to your bowers, ye vile rank whores,Ye'se never see them mair.

34Then out it speaks old Oxenford,A sorry man was he:'Gang to your bowers, ye lily-flowers,For a' this maunna be.'

35Out it speaks him hynde Henry:'Come here, Janet, to me;Will ye gie me my faith and troth,And love, as I gae thee?'

36'Ye shall hae your faith and troth,Wi God's blessing and mine;'And twenty times she kissd his mouth,Her father looking on.

37Then out it speaks him gay Gilbert:'Come here, Margaret, to me;Will ye gie me my faith and troth,And love, as I gae thee?'

38'Yes, ye shall get your faith and troth,Wi God's blessing and mine;'And twenty times she kissd his mouth,Her father looking on.

39'Ye'll take aff your twa black hats,Lay them down on a stone,That nane may ken that ye are clerksTill ye are putten down.'

40The bonny clerks they died that morn,Their loves died lang ere noon;Their father and mother for sorrow died,They all died very soon.

41These six souls went up to heaven,I wish sae may we a'!The mighty mayor went down to hell,For wrong justice and law.

Motherwell's MS., p. 433, from James Nicol, Strichen.

1Oh I will tell a tale of woe,Which makes my heart richt sair;The Clerk's two sons of OxenfoordAre too soon gone to lair.2They thought their father's service mean,Their mother's no great affair;But they would go to fair Berwick,To learn [some] unco lair.3They had not been in fair BerwickA twelve month and a day,Till the clerk's two sons of OxenfoordWith the mayor's two daughters lay.4This word came to the mighty mayor,As he hunted the rae,That the clerks two sons of OxenfoordWith his two daughters lay.5'If they have lain with my daughters,The heirs of all my land,I make a vow, and will keep it true,To hang them with my hand.'6When he was certain of the fact,An angry man was he,And he has taken these two brothers,And hanged them on the tree.7Word it has come to Oxenfoord's clerk,Ere it was many day,That his two sons sometime agoWith the mayor's two daughters lay.8'O saddle a horse to me,' he cried,'O do it quick and soon,That I may ride to fair Berwick,And see what can be done.'9But when he came to fair BerwickA grieved man was he,When that he saw his two bonnie sonsBoth hanging on the tree.10'O woe is me,' the clerk cried out,'This dismal sight to see,All the whole comfort of my lifeDead hanging on the tree!'11He turned his horse's head about,Making a piteous moan,And all the way to OxenfoordDid sad and grievously groan.12His wife did hastily cry out,'You only do I see;What have you done with my two sons,You should have brought to me?'13'I put them to some higher lair,And to a deeper scule;You will not see your bonnie sonsTill the haly days of Yule.14'And I will spend my days in grief,Will never laugh nor sing;There's never a man in OxenfoordShall hear my bridle ring.'

1Oh I will tell a tale of woe,Which makes my heart richt sair;The Clerk's two sons of OxenfoordAre too soon gone to lair.

2They thought their father's service mean,Their mother's no great affair;But they would go to fair Berwick,To learn [some] unco lair.

3They had not been in fair BerwickA twelve month and a day,Till the clerk's two sons of OxenfoordWith the mayor's two daughters lay.

4This word came to the mighty mayor,As he hunted the rae,That the clerks two sons of OxenfoordWith his two daughters lay.

5'If they have lain with my daughters,The heirs of all my land,I make a vow, and will keep it true,To hang them with my hand.'

6When he was certain of the fact,An angry man was he,And he has taken these two brothers,And hanged them on the tree.

7Word it has come to Oxenfoord's clerk,Ere it was many day,That his two sons sometime agoWith the mayor's two daughters lay.

8'O saddle a horse to me,' he cried,'O do it quick and soon,That I may ride to fair Berwick,And see what can be done.'

9But when he came to fair BerwickA grieved man was he,When that he saw his two bonnie sonsBoth hanging on the tree.

10'O woe is me,' the clerk cried out,'This dismal sight to see,All the whole comfort of my lifeDead hanging on the tree!'

11He turned his horse's head about,Making a piteous moan,And all the way to OxenfoordDid sad and grievously groan.

12His wife did hastily cry out,'You only do I see;What have you done with my two sons,You should have brought to me?'

13'I put them to some higher lair,And to a deeper scule;You will not see your bonnie sonsTill the haly days of Yule.

14'And I will spend my days in grief,Will never laugh nor sing;There's never a man in OxenfoordShall hear my bridle ring.'

31, 51, 63, 71, 91. Oh.53. in Owsenford.142. day an doom.

31, 51, 63, 71, 91. Oh.

53. in Owsenford.

142. day an doom.

In the margin as a note(seeA1):

I will sing a sang to you,But o my heart is sair!The twa pretty clerks o OwsenfoordAs they went to their lair.

72. twinit, MS.?84. sic loss.

72. twinit, MS.?

84. sic loss.

283. oh.

FOOTNOTES:[111]'Das Schloss in Oesterreich,' 'Der unschuldige Tod des jungen Knaben.' One stanza in Forsters Frische Liedlein, 1540, II, No 77 (Böhme); broadside of 1606, Erk's Liederhort, p. 15, No 6a; broadside of 1647, Eschenburg, in Deutsches Museum, 1776, p. 399, and Denkmäler Altdeutscher Dichtkunst, 1799, p. 446,=Uhland, p. 300, No 125; late broadside, Wunderhorn, 1806, I, 220. From oral tradition: Gräter's Bragur, VI,I, 205; Erk, Neue Sammlung,I, 20, No 16; Erk's Liederhort, p. 12, No 6; Hoffmann u. Richter, p. 17, No 8; Fiedler, p. 172, No 12; Jeitteles, in Archiv für Litteraturgeschichte, IX, 362, No 5; Schlossar, Deutsche Volkslieder aus Steiermark, p. 346, No 314; Wittstock, Sagen u. Lieder aus dem Nösner Gelande, p. 44, No 15; Frommann, Deutsche Mundarten, V, 391; Meinert, p. 53. (The last is an independent version; the rest have all one type.) Low-German, Niederdeutsche Volkslieder, herausgegeben vom Vereine für niederdeutsche Sprachforschung, p. 56, No 84. Dutch, Hoffmann, Niederländische Volkslieder, p. 84, No 25. Norse: Afzelius, II, 62, No 40, from a seventeenth century broadside; Atterbom's Poetisk Kalender, 1816, p. 32; Wigström, Folkdiktning, I, 64, No 30; Aminson, Bidrag, etc.,IV, 4, No 26, A, B, fragments; Nyerup, Udvalg af Danske Viser, I, 57, No 14; Lindeman, Norske Fjeldmelodier, Tekst Bilag, I, 3 f, No 10. There is a Swedish broadside of 1642, a Danish of 1697.[112]Meinert's ballad, which, though it sometimes betrays artifice, has a fresher tone than the others, makes the chain the young lady's love-token: but this love is no count in the indictment. Uhland, IV, 145, cites from a manuscript chronicle a story of a highwayman, a widow's son, thrice imprisoned and twice ransomed; to no purpose, as far as I can see.

[111]'Das Schloss in Oesterreich,' 'Der unschuldige Tod des jungen Knaben.' One stanza in Forsters Frische Liedlein, 1540, II, No 77 (Böhme); broadside of 1606, Erk's Liederhort, p. 15, No 6a; broadside of 1647, Eschenburg, in Deutsches Museum, 1776, p. 399, and Denkmäler Altdeutscher Dichtkunst, 1799, p. 446,=Uhland, p. 300, No 125; late broadside, Wunderhorn, 1806, I, 220. From oral tradition: Gräter's Bragur, VI,I, 205; Erk, Neue Sammlung,I, 20, No 16; Erk's Liederhort, p. 12, No 6; Hoffmann u. Richter, p. 17, No 8; Fiedler, p. 172, No 12; Jeitteles, in Archiv für Litteraturgeschichte, IX, 362, No 5; Schlossar, Deutsche Volkslieder aus Steiermark, p. 346, No 314; Wittstock, Sagen u. Lieder aus dem Nösner Gelande, p. 44, No 15; Frommann, Deutsche Mundarten, V, 391; Meinert, p. 53. (The last is an independent version; the rest have all one type.) Low-German, Niederdeutsche Volkslieder, herausgegeben vom Vereine für niederdeutsche Sprachforschung, p. 56, No 84. Dutch, Hoffmann, Niederländische Volkslieder, p. 84, No 25. Norse: Afzelius, II, 62, No 40, from a seventeenth century broadside; Atterbom's Poetisk Kalender, 1816, p. 32; Wigström, Folkdiktning, I, 64, No 30; Aminson, Bidrag, etc.,IV, 4, No 26, A, B, fragments; Nyerup, Udvalg af Danske Viser, I, 57, No 14; Lindeman, Norske Fjeldmelodier, Tekst Bilag, I, 3 f, No 10. There is a Swedish broadside of 1642, a Danish of 1697.

[112]Meinert's ballad, which, though it sometimes betrays artifice, has a fresher tone than the others, makes the chain the young lady's love-token: but this love is no count in the indictment. Uhland, IV, 145, cites from a manuscript chronicle a story of a highwayman, a widow's son, thrice imprisoned and twice ransomed; to no purpose, as far as I can see.

A.'Lord Thomas and Fair Annet,' Percy's Reliques, 1765, II, 293; III, 240, ed. 1767.B.'The Nut-Brown Bride,' Kinloch MSS, I, 1.C.'The Brown Bride and Lord Thomas,' Motherwell's MS., p. 157.D.'Lord Thomas and Fair Ellinor.'a.Pepys Ballads, III, 316, No 312.b, c, d, other broadside copies.e, f, g, h, i, recited copies.E.'Sweet Willie and Fair Annie,' Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 22.F.'Sweet Willie and Fair Annie,' Kinloch MSS, III, 127, V, 339.G.Skene MSS, p. 104.H.'Fair Annie and Sweet Willie,' Gibb MS., p. 64.

A.'Lord Thomas and Fair Annet,' Percy's Reliques, 1765, II, 293; III, 240, ed. 1767.

B.'The Nut-Brown Bride,' Kinloch MSS, I, 1.

C.'The Brown Bride and Lord Thomas,' Motherwell's MS., p. 157.

D.'Lord Thomas and Fair Ellinor.'a.Pepys Ballads, III, 316, No 312.b, c, d, other broadside copies.e, f, g, h, i, recited copies.

E.'Sweet Willie and Fair Annie,' Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 22.

F.'Sweet Willie and Fair Annie,' Kinloch MSS, III, 127, V, 339.

G.Skene MSS, p. 104.

H.'Fair Annie and Sweet Willie,' Gibb MS., p. 64.

The copy of 'Lord Thomas and Fair Annet' in Herd, 1769, p. 246, 1776, I, 24, and in the Musical Museum, p. 553, No 535, is Percy's,A.

The English version of this ballad, 'Lord Thomas and Fair Ellinor,' given, with alterations, in Percy's Reliques, III, 82, 1765,[113]is a broadside of Charles the Second's time, printed for I. Clarke, W. Thackeray, and T. Passenger, and licensed by L'Estrange, who was censor from 1663 to 1685. This copy has become traditional in Scotland and Ireland. The Scottish traditional copy, 'Lord Thomas and Fair Annet,' given by Percy in the Reliques (unfortunately with some corrections, but these cannot have been many), is far superior, and one of the most beautiful of our ballads, and indeed of all ballads. 'Fair Margaret and Sweet William,' "a more pathetic story of the man who loves one woman and marries another," begins in the same way, with the last long talk before parting. The conclusion is that the forsaken maid dies of grief, not by the hand of her incensed rival, and it is most natural that the two stories should be blended in tradition, as they are here inE-H,E31 ff,F27 ff,G24 ff,H37 ff belonging to 'Fair Margaret and Sweet William.'

There is a copy of 'Lord Thomas and Fair Ellinor,' written over for the ballad-mongers, and of course much less in the popular style, in Pepys, IV, 48, No 45, and Roxburghe, II, 553, with the title 'The Unfortunate Forrester, or, Fair Eleanor's Tragedy.' In this Fair Ellinor stabs herself and Lord Thomas then kills himself with the same dagger.[114]

Norse ballads have the story of 'Lord Thomas and Fair Annet,' coming very close in details. Those forms which are nearest to the English resemble more the mixed versions,E-H, than the simple,A-D. But in none of the Norse ballads is love thwarted because it stands upon the choice of friends. A man abandons a woman who is in all but the name his wife, and who regards herself, and is evidently regarded by others, as standing in no dishonorable relation to him. There is again a bifurcation in the catastrophe. The forsaken mistress submits and hangs herself in the one case, in the other she takes a fierce revenge. The latter conclusion may well, as Grundtvig holds, be the more original, but the ballads which have the other will here be put first, as being nearer to the English.

(1.)A.'Herr Peder och Liten Kerstin,' Afzelius, I, 49, No 9, Grundtvig, IV, 219, Wigström, Folkdiktning, II, 5, broadsides of the eighteenth century and traditional copies derived therefrom.B.'Herr Peders Slegfred,' broadside of the seventeenth century, Grundtvig, IV, 216, No 210; Danske Viser, III, 365, No 157; Kristensen, II, 177, No 52.C.A traditional fragment, Grundtvig, IV, 220, Bilag 2, from Cavallius and Stephens's collection. (2.)D.'Liti Kerstis hevn,' Landstad, p. 559, No 67.E.Manuscript of the seventeenth century, Grundtvig, IV, 215.F.'Liten Kerstins Hämd,' c. 1700, Arwidsson, I, 305, No 45.

Sir Peter and Liten Kerstin sit at table talking merrily,A,B,E. Peter informs Kerstin that he is to be married. She says she shall not fail to be present; he, that the wedding will be too far away for anybody to come. She shall come, if asked, though it be in Rome,B. If you come, says Peter, you must not wear your gold. She will wear it, for it was got by no dishonor,B,E. Peter rides off, Kerstin wrings her hands: alack for the maid that trusts a loon! He makes the preparations for his bridal, and she orders her clothes, which are of the richest description, all pearls and gold.[115]She has her horse shod, as in English,B21,C12,E22. When she enters the hall, wives and maids stand up,B. She pours wine for the guests. The bride asks who she is, and is told that it is Sir Peter's mistress.[116]She has more gold on herkirtle's hem, says the bride, than all that Sir Peter owns. Why, if he had her, did he come seeking me? After the usual long delay the bride is conducted to the bride-house, Kerstin carrying the torch before her. Kerstin even puts the bride to bed. She leaves the room, saying,A, I trow I shall come here no more, goes into the orchard, and hangs herself with her hair. Sir Peter is informed of what has happened, rushes to the orchard, takes Kerstin down, has a grave dug deep and broad, sets his sword against a stone, and runs on it. The next day, as so often, there are three dead, Sir Peter, Kerstin, and the bride,A,B. InC, Peter hangs himself on the same tree.

Not so moving, but considerably more powerful and original, is the other termination of the story. InE, after Kerstin has lighted the bride to the bride-house, she draws a knife and kills Peter. She tells the bride that this should have been her death too, had she not spoken her so fair. InD,F, she sets fire to the house and burns the bride on the bridegroom's arm.

Sir Peter awakes, but he wakes not ereThe flame is playing in the young bride's hair.Sir Peter springs from his bed, oer late;He saw Little Kersti go out through the gate.'Ah, dear Little Kersti, now help thou me!Another time shall I help thee.'And it was Little Kersti, her laugh he heard:'I wot how well you keep your word.'[117]

Sir Peter awakes, but he wakes not ereThe flame is playing in the young bride's hair.

Sir Peter springs from his bed, oer late;He saw Little Kersti go out through the gate.

'Ah, dear Little Kersti, now help thou me!Another time shall I help thee.'

And it was Little Kersti, her laugh he heard:'I wot how well you keep your word.'[117]

A Southern ballad has something of the outline of the English and Norse, and sounds like a thin echo of them.A.Poésies populaires de la France, MS., III, fol. 158, Burgundy.B.Buchon, Noëls et Chants p. de la Franche-Comté, p. 90, No 31, 'J'ai fait un rêve.'C.Beaurepaire, La Poésie p. en Normandie, p. 50.D.Ampère, Instructions, p. 34, Bretagne.E.Guillon, Chansons p. de l'Ain, p. 161, 'Chante, rossignolet.'F.Arbaud, Chants p. de la Provence, II, 139, 'Lou premier Jour de Mai.'G.Ferraro, Canti p. monferrini, p. 8, No 7, 'Il primo amore.'

A youth is obliged by his father to give up his love for a bride who is less beautiful but richer. He has a dream that his love is dead, and carries her a rose,B,D. He invites her to the wedding: she will not come to the ceremony, but to the dance. She has three gowns made for the occasion, the third embroidered with gold, or of gold stuff. She falls dead while dancing: she falls on the right, he on the left. InG, after his love has died, the bridegroom draws his sword and kills himself.Cand one copy ofDhave the phenomenon of the sympathetic plants, as in EnglishA,B,E,F,G.

E3 is a sort of commonplace when unequal matches are in question. So in a fragment in Herd's manuscripts, I, 55, II, 187:

Back to Index Next