FOOTNOTES:

14wanting.19.Imperfectly remembered.Lord Thomas he stabbed the pretty brown girl, and then he stabbed himself; and he said, Bury the pretty brown girl at my feet, and Fair Ellinor in my arms.A red rose grew out of Fair Ellinor, and a sweet briar out of Lord Thomas's grave, and they grew until they met.h.An Irish version, recited by Ellen Daily, Taunton, Massachusetts.22. Come riddle me all at once.24. Or the bonny brown girl.

14wanting.

19.Imperfectly remembered.

Lord Thomas he stabbed the pretty brown girl, and then he stabbed himself; and he said, Bury the pretty brown girl at my feet, and Fair Ellinor in my arms.

A red rose grew out of Fair Ellinor, and a sweet briar out of Lord Thomas's grave, and they grew until they met.

h.An Irish version, recited by Ellen Daily, Taunton, Massachusetts.

22. Come riddle me all at once.

24. Or the bonny brown girl.

4.He dressed himself up in a suit of fine clothes,With merry men all in white;And there was not a town that he rode throughBut they took him to be a knight.

52. very low at her ring.

103, 4.'Let the wind blow high or low,To Lord Thomas's wedding I'll go.'11.She dressed herself up in a suit of fine clothes,With merry maids all in green;And there was not a town that she rode throughBut they took her to be a queen.

103, 4.'Let the wind blow high or low,To Lord Thomas's wedding I'll go.'

11.She dressed herself up in a suit of fine clothes,With merry maids all in green;And there was not a town that she rode throughBut they took her to be a queen.

122. very low at his ring.After12:

122. very low at his ring.

After12:

He took her by the lily-white hand,And led her along the hall;He handed her to the head of the table,Among the ladies all.

After13:Then out spoke the bonny brown girl some words with spirit, saying:

After13:

Then out spoke the bonny brown girl some words with spirit, saying:

'Where did you get the water so clear,That washed your face so white?''There is a well in my father's yardThat is both clear and spring,And if you were to live till the day you dieThat doon you never shall see.'

'Where did you get the water so clear,That washed your face so white?'

'There is a well in my father's yardThat is both clear and spring,And if you were to live till the day you dieThat doon you never shall see.'

14is wanting.After 19:

14is wanting.

After 19:

'Bury my mother at my head,Fair Ellenor by my side,And bury the bonny brown girl at the end of the church,Where she will be far from me.'. . . . . . .. . . . . . .Out of Fair Ellen there grew a red rose,And out of Lord Thomas there grew a sweet-briar.They grew so tall, they sprung so broad,They grew to a steeple top;Twelve o'clock every nightThey grew to a true lover's knot.

'Bury my mother at my head,Fair Ellenor by my side,And bury the bonny brown girl at the end of the church,Where she will be far from me.'

. . . . . . .. . . . . . .Out of Fair Ellen there grew a red rose,And out of Lord Thomas there grew a sweet-briar.

They grew so tall, they sprung so broad,They grew to a steeple top;Twelve o'clock every nightThey grew to a true lover's knot.

i.Communicated by Mr W. W. Newell, as recited by an Irish maid-servant in Cambridge, Massachusetts.1, 4-7, 10are wanting.After 12:

i.Communicated by Mr W. W. Newell, as recited by an Irish maid-servant in Cambridge, Massachusetts.

1, 4-7, 10are wanting.

After 12:

He took her by the lily-white hand,And led her through the hall,Until he put her sitting at the head of the table,Amongst the gentleman all.13, 14.'Is this your bride, Lord Thomas?' they said,Or isthisyour bride?' said they'O 't is better I love her little fingerThan allherwhole boday.'

He took her by the lily-white hand,And led her through the hall,Until he put her sitting at the head of the table,Amongst the gentleman all.

13, 14.'Is this your bride, Lord Thomas?' they said,Or isthisyour bride?' said they'O 't is better I love her little fingerThan allherwhole boday.'

The stanza which describes Lord Thomas's dress and the effect he produced occurs ine,g,h; that in which Lord Thomas leads Ellinor through the hall and conducts her to her place is found ind,f,g,h,i; the colloquy about the water which washes Ellinor so white ine,g,h; Lord Thomas's directions about the burial ind,f,h; the plants growing from the grave ing,h. None of these are in the English broadside.A fragment in Pitcairn's MSS, III, 35, is derived from the English broadside.

A fragment in Pitcairn's MSS, III, 35, is derived from the English broadside.

The copy in Kinloch MSS, V, 339,b, seems to be a revision of the other. The two portions of that which is apparently the earlier,a, became separated by some accident or oversight. For stanzas 18-37 I have not the original, but a transcript. After 1,binserts Jamieson's second stanza,E2.4.ye merrytwice.53.altered toWhat's metter, son Willie, to conform to 63:b,And what's the matter.121. Ye'll tell her to come.123. Yer bidden come.131. Yer forbidden.Anticipating 14, 15. Corrected inbas here, and partly ina.182.a, gold engraved,b, golden graved:cf.H, 16, 20.223. Oh is it:corrected inb.253.She has by farstruck out andFair Anniewritten above:b,Fair Annie hes oer.

4.ye merrytwice.

53.altered toWhat's metter, son Willie, to conform to 63:b,And what's the matter.

121. Ye'll tell her to come.

123. Yer bidden come.

131. Yer forbidden.Anticipating 14, 15. Corrected inbas here, and partly ina.

182.a, gold engraved,b, golden graved:cf.H, 16, 20.

223. Oh is it:corrected inb.

253.She has by farstruck out andFair Anniewritten above:b,Fair Annie hes oer.

The division of stanzas and of verses has in some cases required regulation. The handwriting is in places difficult, and I cannot be sure that the spelling in every case is what the writer intended.74. mann?165. Willie.202. fett?213. ser brunt (?)214. faett?231. Whan.253.perhapsdreams.281.dealillegible, a conjecture.293. grave?

The division of stanzas and of verses has in some cases required regulation. The handwriting is in places difficult, and I cannot be sure that the spelling in every case is what the writer intended.

74. mann?

165. Willie.

202. fett?

213. ser brunt (?)

214. faett?

231. Whan.

253.perhapsdreams.

281.dealillegible, a conjecture.

293. grave?

FOOTNOTES:[113]I have been enabled to restore the original readings by the ever ready kindness of Professor Skeat.[114]London, printed for W. T[hackeray], T. P[assenger], and W. W. [Whitwood?]. This impression is therefore contemporary with the other.[115]InD,Eshe borrows the fine things of her sister. Minute particulars are given inD. We all wonder how Fair Annet, whose face should be her fortune, comes by so much. Her horse's shoes and bells would have made her a nice little dowry; and then she has,F20, as much gold above her brow as would buy an earldom, like the oriental Susie Py. This comes of a reckless use of commonplaces, without regard to keeping.[116]Some of the versions have traits of 'Fair Annie.' InFthe woman is a king's sister, and is not living with Sir Peter.[117]Herre Per vaknað inki för dáat login leikað i Áselitis hár.Herre Per springe han up af si seng,dá ság han liti Kersti pá gata geng.'Aa kære liti Kersti, no hjölper du meg!en annen sinn skal eg hjölpe deg.'Og deð var liti Kersti, sá högt hon lóg:'eg veit du helde sá vel dit órð!'Landstad, 33-36.Upon which the good pastor, who loved the things nevertheless, remarks, What a culpable style of life, what moral depravation, many of these ballads depict!

[113]I have been enabled to restore the original readings by the ever ready kindness of Professor Skeat.

[114]London, printed for W. T[hackeray], T. P[assenger], and W. W. [Whitwood?]. This impression is therefore contemporary with the other.

[115]InD,Eshe borrows the fine things of her sister. Minute particulars are given inD. We all wonder how Fair Annet, whose face should be her fortune, comes by so much. Her horse's shoes and bells would have made her a nice little dowry; and then she has,F20, as much gold above her brow as would buy an earldom, like the oriental Susie Py. This comes of a reckless use of commonplaces, without regard to keeping.

[116]Some of the versions have traits of 'Fair Annie.' InFthe woman is a king's sister, and is not living with Sir Peter.

[117]Herre Per vaknað inki för dáat login leikað i Áselitis hár.Herre Per springe han up af si seng,dá ság han liti Kersti pá gata geng.'Aa kære liti Kersti, no hjölper du meg!en annen sinn skal eg hjölpe deg.'Og deð var liti Kersti, sá högt hon lóg:'eg veit du helde sá vel dit órð!'Landstad, 33-36.Upon which the good pastor, who loved the things nevertheless, remarks, What a culpable style of life, what moral depravation, many of these ballads depict!

[117]

Herre Per vaknað inki för dáat login leikað i Áselitis hár.Herre Per springe han up af si seng,dá ság han liti Kersti pá gata geng.'Aa kære liti Kersti, no hjölper du meg!en annen sinn skal eg hjölpe deg.'Og deð var liti Kersti, sá högt hon lóg:'eg veit du helde sá vel dit órð!'

Herre Per vaknað inki för dáat login leikað i Áselitis hár.

Herre Per springe han up af si seng,dá ság han liti Kersti pá gata geng.

'Aa kære liti Kersti, no hjölper du meg!en annen sinn skal eg hjölpe deg.'

Og deð var liti Kersti, sá högt hon lóg:'eg veit du helde sá vel dit órð!'

Landstad, 33-36.

Upon which the good pastor, who loved the things nevertheless, remarks, What a culpable style of life, what moral depravation, many of these ballads depict!

A. a.'Fair Margaret's Misfortune,' etc., Douce Ballads, I, fol. 72.b.'Fair Margaret and Sweet William,' Ritson, A Select Collection of English Songs, 1783, II, 190.c.'Fair Margaret and Sweet William,' Percy's Reliques, 1765, III, 121.d.Percy's Reliques, 1767, III, 119.B.Percy Papers; communicated by the Dean of Derry, February, 1776.C.Percy Papers; communicated by Rev. P. Parsons, April 7, 1770.

B.Percy Papers; communicated by the Dean of Derry, February, 1776.

C.Percy Papers; communicated by Rev. P. Parsons, April 7, 1770.

A,a,b,care broadside or stall copies,aof the end of the seventeenth century,b"modern" in Percy's time, and they differ inconsiderably, except thatahas corrupted an important line.[118]Ofd, Percy says, Since the first edition some improvements have been inserted, which were communicated by a lady of the first distinction, as she had heard this song repeated in her infancy. Herd, in The Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 295, follows Percy. As Percy has remarked, the ballad is twice quoted in Beaumont and Fletcher's 'Knight of the Burning Pestle,' 1611. Stanza 5 runs thus in Act 2, Scene 8, Dyce, II, 170:

When it was grown to dark midnight,And all were fast asleep,In came Margaret's grimly ghost,And stood at William's feet.

The first half of stanza 2 is given, in Act 3, Scene 5, Dyce, p. 196, with more propriety than in the broadsides, thus:

You are no love for me, Margaret,I am no love for you.

The fifth stanza of the ballad, as cited in 'The Knight of the Burning Pestle,' says the editor of the Reliques, has "acquired an importance by giving birth to one of the most beautiful ballads in our own or any language" [that is, 'Margaret's Ghost'], "the elegant production of David Mallet, Esq., who, in the last edition of his poems, 3 vols, 1759, informs us that the plan was suggested by the four verses quoted above, which he supposed to be the beginning of some ballad now lost."[119]The ballad supposed to be lost has been lately recovered, in a copy of the date 1711, with the title 'William and Margaret, an Old Ballad,' and turns out to be substantially the piece which Mallet published as his own in 1724, Mallet's changes being comparatively slight. 'William and Margaret' is simply 'Fair Margaret and Sweet William' rewritten in what used to be called an elegant style. Nine of the seventeen stanzas are taken up with a rhetorical address of Margaret to false William, who then leaves his bed, raving, stretches himself on Margaret's grave, thrice calls her name, thrice weeps full sore, and dies. See The Roxburghe Ballads, in the Ballad Society's reprint, III, 671, with Mr Chappell's remarks there, and in the Antiquary, January, 1880. The ballad of 1711 seems to have been founded upon some copy of the popular form earlier than any we now possess, or than any known to me, for the last half of stanza 5 runs nearly as it occurs in Beaumont and Fletcher (see alsoB7), thus:

In glided Margaret's grimly ghost,And stood at William's feet.

'Fair Margaret and Sweet William' begins like 'Lord Thomas and Fair Annet,' and from the fifth stanza on is blended with a form of that ballad represented by versionsE-H. Thebrowngirl, characteristic of 'Lord Thomas and Fair Annet,' has slipped intoA14, 15,B8, of 'Fair Margaret and Sweet William.' The catastrophe of 'Fair Margaret and Sweet William' is repeated in 'Lord Lovel,' and it will be convenient to notice under the head of the latter, which immediately follows, some ballads out of English which resemble both, especially in the conclusion.

A cis translated by Bodmer, II, 31, Döring, p. 199;A dby Herder, 1778, I, 124, von Marées, p. 40, Knortz, Lieder u. Romanzen Alt-Englands, No 61.

a.Douce Ballads, I, fol. 72.b.Ritson, A Select Collection of English Songs, 1783, II, 190.c.Percy's Reliques, 1765, III, 121.d.Percy's Reliques, 1767, III, 119.

1As it fell out on a long summer's day,Two lovers they sat on a hill;They sat together that long summer's day,And could not talk their fill.2'I see no harm by you, Margaret,Nor you see none by me;Before tomorrow eight a clockA rich wedding shall you see.'3Fair Margaret sat in her bower-window,A combing of her hair,And there she spy'd Sweet William and his bride,As they were riding near.4Down she layd her ivory comb,And up she bound her hair;She went her way forth of her bower,But never more did come there.5When day was gone, and night was come,And all men fast asleep,Then came the spirit of Fair Margaret,And stood at William's feet.6'God give you joy, you two true lovers,In bride-bed fast asleep;Loe I am going to my green grass grave,And am in my winding-sheet.'7When day was come, and night was gone,And all men wak'd from sleep,Sweet William to his lady said,My dear, I have cause to weep.8'I dreamd a dream, my dear lady;Such dreams are never good;I dreamd my bower was full of red swine,And my bride-bed full of blood.'9'Such dreams, such dreams, my honoured lord,They never do prove good,To dream thy bower was full of swine,And [thy] bride-bed full of blood.'10He called up his merry men all,By one, by two, and by three,Saying, I'll away to Fair Margaret's bower,By the leave of my lady.11And when he came to Fair Margaret's bower,He knocked at the ring;So ready was her seven brethrenTo let Sweet William in.12He turned up the covering-sheet:'Pray let me see the dead;Methinks she does look pale and wan,She has lost her cherry red.13'I'll do more for thee, Margaret,Than any of thy kin;For I will kiss thy pale wan lips,Tho a smile I cannot win.'14With that bespeak her seven brethren,Making most pitious moan:'You may go kiss your jolly brown bride,And let our sister alone.'15'If I do kiss my jolly brown bride,I do but what is right;For I made no vow to your sister dear,By day or yet by night.16'Pray tell me then how much you'll dealOf your white bread and your wine;So much as is dealt at her funeral todayTomorrow shall be dealt at mine.'17Fair Margaret dy'd today, today,Sweet William he dy'd the morrow;Fair Margaret dy'd for pure true love,Sweet William he dy'd for sorrow.18Margaret was buried in the lower chancel,Sweet William in the higher;Out of her breast there sprung a rose,And out of his a brier.19They grew as high as the church-top,Till they could grow no higher,And then they grew in a true lover's knot,Which made all people admire.20There came the clerk of the parish,As you this truth shall hear,And by misfortune cut them down,Or they had now been there.

1As it fell out on a long summer's day,Two lovers they sat on a hill;They sat together that long summer's day,And could not talk their fill.

2'I see no harm by you, Margaret,Nor you see none by me;Before tomorrow eight a clockA rich wedding shall you see.'

3Fair Margaret sat in her bower-window,A combing of her hair,And there she spy'd Sweet William and his bride,As they were riding near.

4Down she layd her ivory comb,And up she bound her hair;She went her way forth of her bower,But never more did come there.

5When day was gone, and night was come,And all men fast asleep,Then came the spirit of Fair Margaret,And stood at William's feet.

6'God give you joy, you two true lovers,In bride-bed fast asleep;Loe I am going to my green grass grave,And am in my winding-sheet.'

7When day was come, and night was gone,And all men wak'd from sleep,Sweet William to his lady said,My dear, I have cause to weep.

8'I dreamd a dream, my dear lady;Such dreams are never good;I dreamd my bower was full of red swine,And my bride-bed full of blood.'

9'Such dreams, such dreams, my honoured lord,They never do prove good,To dream thy bower was full of swine,And [thy] bride-bed full of blood.'

10He called up his merry men all,By one, by two, and by three,Saying, I'll away to Fair Margaret's bower,By the leave of my lady.

11And when he came to Fair Margaret's bower,He knocked at the ring;So ready was her seven brethrenTo let Sweet William in.

12He turned up the covering-sheet:'Pray let me see the dead;Methinks she does look pale and wan,She has lost her cherry red.

13'I'll do more for thee, Margaret,Than any of thy kin;For I will kiss thy pale wan lips,Tho a smile I cannot win.'

14With that bespeak her seven brethren,Making most pitious moan:'You may go kiss your jolly brown bride,And let our sister alone.'

15'If I do kiss my jolly brown bride,I do but what is right;For I made no vow to your sister dear,By day or yet by night.

16'Pray tell me then how much you'll dealOf your white bread and your wine;So much as is dealt at her funeral todayTomorrow shall be dealt at mine.'

17Fair Margaret dy'd today, today,Sweet William he dy'd the morrow;Fair Margaret dy'd for pure true love,Sweet William he dy'd for sorrow.

18Margaret was buried in the lower chancel,Sweet William in the higher;Out of her breast there sprung a rose,And out of his a brier.

19They grew as high as the church-top,Till they could grow no higher,And then they grew in a true lover's knot,Which made all people admire.

20There came the clerk of the parish,As you this truth shall hear,And by misfortune cut them down,Or they had now been there.

Communicated to Percy by the Dean of Derry, as written down from memory by his mother, Mrs Bernard; February, 1776.

1Sweet William would a wooing ride,His steed was lovely brown;A fairer creature than Lady MargaretSweet William could find none.2Sweet William came to Lady Margaret's bower,And knocked at the ring,And who so ready as Lady MargaretTo rise and to let him in.3Down then came her father dear,Clothed all in blue:'I pray, Sweet William, tell to meWhat love's between my daughter and you?'4'I know none by her,' he said,'And she knows none by me;Before tomorrow at this timeAnother bride you shall see.'5Lady Margaret at her bower-window,Combing of her hair,She saw Sweet William and his brown brideUnto the church repair.6Down she cast her iv'ry comb,And up she tossd her hair,She went out from her bowr alive,But never so more came there.7When day was gone, and night was come,All people were asleep,In glided Margaret's grimly ghost,And stood at William's feet.8'How d'ye like your bed, Sweet William?How d'ye like your sheet?And how d'ye like that brown lady,That lies in your arms asleep?'9'Well I like my bed, Lady Margaret,And well I like my sheet;But better I like that fair ladyThat stands at my bed's feet.'10When night was gone, and day was come,All people were awake,The lady waket out of her sleep,And thus to her lord she spake.11'I dreamd a dream, my wedded lord,That seldom comes to good;I dreamd that our bowr was lin'd with white swine,And our brid-chamber full of blood.'12He called up his merry men all,By one, by two, by three,'We will go to Lady Margaret's bower,With the leave of my wedded lady.'13When he came to Lady Margaret's bower,He knocked at the ring,And who were so ready as her brethrenTo rise and let him in.14'Oh is she in the parlor,' he said,'Or is she in the hall?Or is she in the long chamber,Amongst her merry maids all?'15'She's not in the parlor,' they said,'Nor is she in the hall;But she is in the long chamber,Laid out against the wall.'16'Open the winding sheet,' he cry'd,'That I may kiss the dead;That I may kiss her pale and wanWhose lips used to look so red.'17Lady Margaret [died] on the over night,Sweet William died on the morrow;Lady Margaret died for pure, pure love,Sweet William died for sorrow.18On Margaret's grave there grew a rose,On Sweet William's grew a briar;They grew till they joind in a true lover's knot,And then they died both together.

1Sweet William would a wooing ride,His steed was lovely brown;A fairer creature than Lady MargaretSweet William could find none.

2Sweet William came to Lady Margaret's bower,And knocked at the ring,And who so ready as Lady MargaretTo rise and to let him in.

3Down then came her father dear,Clothed all in blue:'I pray, Sweet William, tell to meWhat love's between my daughter and you?'

4'I know none by her,' he said,'And she knows none by me;Before tomorrow at this timeAnother bride you shall see.'

5Lady Margaret at her bower-window,Combing of her hair,She saw Sweet William and his brown brideUnto the church repair.

6Down she cast her iv'ry comb,And up she tossd her hair,She went out from her bowr alive,But never so more came there.

7When day was gone, and night was come,All people were asleep,In glided Margaret's grimly ghost,And stood at William's feet.

8'How d'ye like your bed, Sweet William?How d'ye like your sheet?And how d'ye like that brown lady,That lies in your arms asleep?'

9'Well I like my bed, Lady Margaret,And well I like my sheet;But better I like that fair ladyThat stands at my bed's feet.'

10When night was gone, and day was come,All people were awake,The lady waket out of her sleep,And thus to her lord she spake.

11'I dreamd a dream, my wedded lord,That seldom comes to good;I dreamd that our bowr was lin'd with white swine,And our brid-chamber full of blood.'

12He called up his merry men all,By one, by two, by three,'We will go to Lady Margaret's bower,With the leave of my wedded lady.'

13When he came to Lady Margaret's bower,He knocked at the ring,And who were so ready as her brethrenTo rise and let him in.

14'Oh is she in the parlor,' he said,'Or is she in the hall?Or is she in the long chamber,Amongst her merry maids all?'

15'She's not in the parlor,' they said,'Nor is she in the hall;But she is in the long chamber,Laid out against the wall.'

16'Open the winding sheet,' he cry'd,'That I may kiss the dead;That I may kiss her pale and wanWhose lips used to look so red.'

17Lady Margaret [died] on the over night,Sweet William died on the morrow;Lady Margaret died for pure, pure love,Sweet William died for sorrow.

18On Margaret's grave there grew a rose,On Sweet William's grew a briar;They grew till they joind in a true lover's knot,And then they died both together.

Communicated to Percy by Rev. P. Parsons, of Wye, April 7, 1770.

1As Margaret stood at her window so clear,A combing back her hair,She saw Sweet William and his gay brideUnto the church draw near.2Then down she threw her ivory comb,She turned back her hair;There was a fair maid at that window,She's gone, she'll come no more there.3In the night, in the middle of the night,When all men were asleep,There walkd a ghost, Fair Margaret's ghost,And stood at his bed's feet.4Sweet William he dremed a dream, and he said,'I wish it prove for good;My chamber was full of wild men's wine,And my bride-bed stood in blood.'5Then he calld up his stable-groom,To saddle his nag with speed:'This night will I ride to Fair Margaret's bowr,With the leave of my lady.6'Oh is Fair Margaret in the kitchen?Or is she in the hall?. . . . . . .. . . . . . .7'No, she is not in the kitchen,' they cryed,'Nor is she in the hall;But she is in the long chamber,Laid up against the wall.'8Go with your right side to Newcastle,And come with your left side home,There you will see those two loversLie printed on one stone.

1As Margaret stood at her window so clear,A combing back her hair,She saw Sweet William and his gay brideUnto the church draw near.

2Then down she threw her ivory comb,She turned back her hair;There was a fair maid at that window,She's gone, she'll come no more there.

3In the night, in the middle of the night,When all men were asleep,There walkd a ghost, Fair Margaret's ghost,And stood at his bed's feet.

4Sweet William he dremed a dream, and he said,'I wish it prove for good;My chamber was full of wild men's wine,And my bride-bed stood in blood.'

5Then he calld up his stable-groom,To saddle his nag with speed:'This night will I ride to Fair Margaret's bowr,With the leave of my lady.

6'Oh is Fair Margaret in the kitchen?Or is she in the hall?. . . . . . .. . . . . . .

7'No, she is not in the kitchen,' they cryed,'Nor is she in the hall;But she is in the long chamber,Laid up against the wall.'

8Go with your right side to Newcastle,And come with your left side home,There you will see those two loversLie printed on one stone.

A. a.

Fair Margaret's Misfortune, or, Sweet William's Frightful Dreams on his Wedding Night. With the Sudden Death and Burial of those Noble Lovers.... Printed for S. Bates, at the Sun and Bible, in Gilt-Spur Street.Sarah Bates published about 1685. Chappell.31. set.41. lay.54. Which causd him for to weep:caught probably from 74. See the quotation in Beaumont and Fletcher, and the other broadside copies.132. my kin.181. channel.b.11. out upon a day.13. a long.24. you shall.34. a riding.43. went away first from the.44. more came.54. And stood at William's bed-feet.61. you true.63. grass green.64. I am.94. thy bride-bed.101. called his.121. Then he.123. she looks both.141. the seven.143, 151. brown dame.162. Of white.182. And William.193. there they.194. all the.201. Then.c.23. at eight.24. you shall.33. She spyed.34. a riding.44. more came.53. There came.54. And stood at William's feet.61. you lovers true.64. I'm.94. And they.121. Then he.141. the seven.17. William dyed.182. And William.193. there they.194. Made all the folke.201. Then.

31. set.

41. lay.

54. Which causd him for to weep:caught probably from 74. See the quotation in Beaumont and Fletcher, and the other broadside copies.

132. my kin.

181. channel.

b.11. out upon a day.

13. a long.

24. you shall.

34. a riding.

43. went away first from the.

44. more came.

54. And stood at William's bed-feet.

61. you true.

63. grass green.

64. I am.

94. thy bride-bed.

101. called his.

121. Then he.

123. she looks both.

141. the seven.

143, 151. brown dame.

162. Of white.

182. And William.

193. there they.

194. all the.

201. Then.

c.23. at eight.

24. you shall.

33. She spyed.

34. a riding.

44. more came.

53. There came.

54. And stood at William's feet.

61. you lovers true.

64. I'm.

94. And they.

121. Then he.

141. the seven.

17. William dyed.

182. And William.

193. there they.

194. Made all the folke.

201. Then.

Variations not found inc: "Communicated by a lady of the first distinction, as she had heard this song repeated in her infancy."32. Combing her yellow hair.33. There she spyed.

Variations not found inc: "Communicated by a lady of the first distinction, as she had heard this song repeated in her infancy."

32. Combing her yellow hair.

33. There she spyed.

4.Then down she layd her ivory combe,And braided her hair in twain;She went alive out of her bower,But neer came alive in't again.6.'Are you awake, Sweet William?' shee said,'Or, Sweet William, are you asleep?God give you joy of your gay bride-bed,And me of my winding-sheet.'

4.Then down she layd her ivory combe,And braided her hair in twain;She went alive out of her bower,But neer came alive in't again.

6.'Are you awake, Sweet William?' shee said,'Or, Sweet William, are you asleep?God give you joy of your gay bride-bed,And me of my winding-sheet.'

113. And who so ready as her.153. I neer made a vow to yonder poor corpse.

113. And who so ready as her.

153. I neer made a vow to yonder poor corpse.

16.'Deal on, deal on, my merry men all,Deal on your cake and your wine;For whatever is dealt at her funeral todayShall be dealt tomorrow at mine.'

191. They grew till they grew unto the.192. And then they.193. they tyed.194. the people.

191. They grew till they grew unto the.

192. And then they.

193. they tyed.

194. the people.

"The ballad of Sweet William,"writes Parsons to Percy, "was the same as yours in the stanzas I have omitted.... The person from whom I took the thirty-fifth line [thirty-first, here43] sang it thus:

My chamber was full of wild men's wine,

which is absolute nonsense, yet, if altered to 'wild men and swine,' is perfect sense."

FOOTNOTES:[118]"The common title of this ballad, which is a favorite of the stalls, is 'Fair Margaret's Misfortunes:'" Motherwell, Minstrelsy, p. lxviii, note 18.[119]Reliques, 1765, III, 121, 310.

[118]"The common title of this ballad, which is a favorite of the stalls, is 'Fair Margaret's Misfortunes:'" Motherwell, Minstrelsy, p. lxviii, note 18.

[119]Reliques, 1765, III, 121, 310.

A.'Lady Ouncebell,' communicated to Bishop Percy by the Rev. P. Parsons, of Wye, 1770 and 1775.B.'Lord Lavel,' Kinloch MSS, I, 45.C.'Lord Travell,' communicated by Mr Alexander Laing, of Newburgh-on-Tay.D.'Lord Lovel,' Kinloch MSS, VII, 83; Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 31.E.Communicated by Mr J. F. Campbell, of Islay, as learned about 1850.F.'Lord Lovel,' communicated by Mr Robert White, of Newcastle-on-Tyne.G.'Lord Revel,' Harris MS., fol. 28b.H.'Lord Lovel.'a.Broadside in Dixon's Ancient Poems, Ballads and Songs of the Peasantry of England, p. 78, Percy Society, vol.XIX.b.Davidson's Universal Melodist, I, 148.I.Percy Papers, communicated by Principal Robertson.

A.'Lady Ouncebell,' communicated to Bishop Percy by the Rev. P. Parsons, of Wye, 1770 and 1775.

B.'Lord Lavel,' Kinloch MSS, I, 45.

C.'Lord Travell,' communicated by Mr Alexander Laing, of Newburgh-on-Tay.

D.'Lord Lovel,' Kinloch MSS, VII, 83; Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 31.

E.Communicated by Mr J. F. Campbell, of Islay, as learned about 1850.

F.'Lord Lovel,' communicated by Mr Robert White, of Newcastle-on-Tyne.

G.'Lord Revel,' Harris MS., fol. 28b.

H.'Lord Lovel.'a.Broadside in Dixon's Ancient Poems, Ballads and Songs of the Peasantry of England, p. 78, Percy Society, vol.XIX.b.Davidson's Universal Melodist, I, 148.

I.Percy Papers, communicated by Principal Robertson.

Iis made up of portions of several ballads. The first stanza is derived from 'Sweet William's Ghost,' the second and third possibly from some form of 'Death and the Lady,' 4-11 from 'Lady Maisry.' The eighth stanza ofEshould, perhaps, be considered as taken from 'Lord Thomas and Fair Annet,' since in no other copy of 'Lord Lovel' and in none of 'Fair Margaret and Sweet William' does the hero die by his own hand.

In 'Fair Margaret and Sweet William,' as also in 'Lord Thomas and Fair Annet,' a lover sacrifices his inclination to make a marriage of interest. In 'Lord Lovel' the woman dies, not of affection betrayed, but of hope too long deferred, and her laggard but not unfaithful lover sinks under his remorse and grief. 'Lord Lovel' is peculiarly such a ballad as Orsino likes and praises: it is silly sooth, like the old age. Therefore a gross taste has taken pleasure in parodying it, and the same with 'Young Beichan.' But there are people in this world who are amused even with a burlesque of Othello.[120]

There are several sets of ballads, very common in Germany and in Scandinavia, which, whether they are or are not variations of the same original, at least have a great deal in common with 'Lord Lovel' and 'Fair Margaret and Sweet William.'

Of these, one which more closely resembles the English is 'Der Ritter und die Maid,' of German origin, but found also further north.[121]

A knight and maid have been together tillmorning. She weeps; he tells her that he will pay for her honor, will give her an underling and money. She will have none but him, and will go home to her mother. The mother, on seeing her, asks why her gown is long behind and short before, and offers her meat and drink. The daughter refuses them, goes to bed, and dies. So far there is no dallying with the innocence of love, as in the English ballad; the German knight is simply a brutal man of pleasure. But now the knight has a dream, as in 'Fair Margaret and Sweet William;' it is that his love has died. He bids his squire or groom to saddle, and rides to find out what has happened. On his way he hears an ominous bell; further on he sees a grave digging; then he meets men carrying a bier. Set down the bier, he cries, that I may see my love. He turns back the cloth and looks at the dead. She has suffered for him, he will suffer for her. He draws his sword and runs it through his heart. They are buried in one coffin, or in the same grave. In some of the ballads lilies rise from the grave; in a Swedish version ('Jungfruns död'), a linden, the leaves of which intermingle.

Next to this we may put a Norwegian and a Swedish ballad, which, having perhaps lost something at the beginning, cannot safely be classed: 'Maarstíg aa hass möy,' Bugge, p. 127, No 26, A, B; 'Herr Malmstens dröm,' Afzelius, III, 104, No 85. Maarstíg dreams that his love's gold ring has got upon another finger, that her gold belt is off her lithe waist, her cloak or her hair is cut to bits, her shoes are full of blood; Malmsten that his love's heart breaks. The pages are ordered to saddle, and Maarstíg, or Malmsten, rides to find what there is in the dream. Maarstíg encounters two maids, who are just from a wake. "Who is dead?" "Maalfrí, thy sweet love." He rides on, meets the bier, bids the bearers set it down, and looks at the dead. Let them dig the grave, he cries, wide and deep, it shall be his bride-house; let them dig the grave deep and long, that is where bride and bridegroom shall go. He sets his sword against a stone, and falls on it. With slight variations, the course of the story is the same for Malmsten. Another Swedish ballad, 'Den sörjande,' Djurklou, p. 106, No 7, lacks even so much introduction as the dream. The lover orders his horse, hears the funeral bell, sees the grave-digging, meets the bier, looks at his dead mistress, and kills himself. A fragment in Dybeck's Runa, 1845, p. 15, begins with the ride and stops short of the death.

These last ballads apparently give us the middle and end of a story which has also some sort of beginning in the following: Danish, 'Den elskedes Død,' Kristensen, II, 39, No 20, A-D, and in many unprinted copies from oral tradition, besides two from MSS of the sixteenth century, communicated to me by Grundtvig; Swedish, 'Hertig Nils,' Arwidsson, II, 21, No 72, 'Peder Palleson,' Arwidsson, No 71, II, 18, 437; Norwegian, 'Herr Stragi,' Landstad, p. 537, No 61.[122]A lover and his mistress have parted, have been long parted. She is sick, dying, or even dead. In the Danish manuscript copies we are distinctly told that she has grieved herself to death on his account. Word is sent him by carrier-pigeons, a bird, a page; or he is informed by a spae-wife (Landstad). He leaps over the table, spilling mead and wine (Kristensen), and rides faster than the doves fly. The restof the tale is much as before, with those minor diversities that are to be expected. The lover commonly kills himself, but dies of heart-break in 'Peder Palleson' and one of the sixteenth century Danish copies. In the latter he hears the bells, says he shall never arrive alive, dies without the house and she within; in the former the maid dies in the upper room, the swain on the wild moor. In the Danish manuscript copies the man is laid south in the churchyard, the maid north [west, east], two roses spring from their breasts and span the church-roof, and there they shall stay till doom; in Kristensen it is two lilies, in Arwidsson a linden.

With these last may belong a German ballad of a young Markgraf, who marries a very young wife, goes for her mother upon the approach of a threatening childbirth, and, returning, has encounters similar to those in 'Der Ritter und die Maid.' In some instances it is a Reiter, or Jäger, "wohlgemuth," not married, or in secret relations with his love, who, coming to a wood or heath, hears a bell that alarms him; etc. In the end he generally kills himself, sometimes dies of a broken heart. Lilies in several cases rise from the young woman's grave, or their grave.[123]

A Romaic ballad has the characteristic features of the English, German, and Scandinavian stories, with a beginning of its own, as these also have: 'Ἡ Ευγενουλα,' 'Ὁ Χαρος και ἑ Κορη,' etc. (1) Zambelios, p. 715, 2=Passow, No 415; (2) Passow, No 418; (3) Fauriel, p. 112, No 6=Passow, No 417; (4) Marcellus, II, 72=Passow, No 414; (5) Chasiotis, p. 169, No 5; (6) Passow, No 416; (7) Aravandinos, p. 285, No 472; (8) Tommaseo, III, 307 f; (9) Jeannaraki, p. 239, No 301; and no doubt elsewhere, for the ballad is a favorite. A young girl, who has nine brothers and is betrothed (or perhaps newly married) to a rich pallikar, professes not to fear Death. Death immediately shows his power over her. Her lover, coming with a splendid train to celebrate his nuptials, sees a cross on her mother's gate, a sign that some one has died. In (2) he lifts a gold handkerchief from the face of the dead, and sees that it is his beloved. Or he finds a man digging a grave, and asks for whom the grave is, and is told. "Make the grave deep and broad," he cries; "make it for two," and stabs himself with his dagger. A clump of reeds springs from one of the lovers, a cypress [lemon-tree] from the other, which bend one towards the other and kiss whenever a strong breeze blows.[124]

In a Catalan ballad, a young man hears funeral bells, asks for whom they ring, is told that it is for his love, rides to her house, finds the balcony hung with black, kneels at the feet of the dead, and uncovers her face. She speaks and tells him where his gifts to her may be found, then bids him order the carpenter to make a coffin large enough for two. He draws his dagger and stabs himself; there are two dead in one house! 'La mort de la Nuvia,' Briz y Candi, I, 135, Milá, Romancerillo, p. 321 f, No 337All,Bll; found also in Majorca.

As will readily be supposed, some of the incidents of this series of ballads are found in traditional song in various connections.

Dis translated by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske Folkeviser, p. 194, No 29; by Rose Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder der Vorzeit, p. 115, No 25.

Percy Papers, communicated by the Rev. P. Parsons, of Wye, from singing; May 22, 1770, and April 19, 1775.

1'And I fare you well, Lady Ouncebell,For I must needs be gone,And this time two year I'll meet you again,To finish the loves we begun.'2'That is a long time, Lord Lovill,' said she,'To live in fair Scotland;''And so it is, Lady Ouncebell,To leave a fair lady alone.'3He had not been in fair ScotlandNot half above half a year,But a longin mind came into his head,Lady Ouncebell he woud go see her.4He called up his stable-groom,To sadle his milk-white stead;Dey down, dey down, dey down dery down,I wish Lord Lovill good speed.5He had not been in fair LondonNot half above half a day,But he heard the bells of the high chapel ring,They rang with a ceserera.6He asked of a gentleman,That set there all alone,What made the bells of the high chapel ring,The ladys make all their moan.7'One of the king's daughters are dead,' said he,'Lady Ouncebell was her name;She died for love of a courtous young night,Lord Lovill he was the same.'8He caused her corps to be set down,And her winding sheet undone,And he made a vow before them allHe'd never kiss wowman again.9Lady Ouncebell died on the yesterday,Lord Lovill on the morrow;Lady Ouncebell died for pure true love,Lord Lovill died for sorrow.10Lady Ouncebell was buried in the high chancel,Lord Lovill in the choir;Lady Ouncebell's breast sprung out a sweet rose,Lord Lovill's a bunch of sweet brier.11They grew till they grew to the top of the church,And then they could grow no higher;They grew till they grew to a true-lover's not,And then they tyed both together.12An old wowman coming by that way,And a blessing she did crave,To cut off a bunch of that true-lover's not,And buried them both in one grave.

1'And I fare you well, Lady Ouncebell,For I must needs be gone,And this time two year I'll meet you again,To finish the loves we begun.'

2'That is a long time, Lord Lovill,' said she,'To live in fair Scotland;''And so it is, Lady Ouncebell,To leave a fair lady alone.'

3He had not been in fair ScotlandNot half above half a year,But a longin mind came into his head,Lady Ouncebell he woud go see her.

4He called up his stable-groom,To sadle his milk-white stead;Dey down, dey down, dey down dery down,I wish Lord Lovill good speed.

5He had not been in fair LondonNot half above half a day,But he heard the bells of the high chapel ring,They rang with a ceserera.

6He asked of a gentleman,That set there all alone,What made the bells of the high chapel ring,The ladys make all their moan.

7'One of the king's daughters are dead,' said he,'Lady Ouncebell was her name;She died for love of a courtous young night,Lord Lovill he was the same.'

8He caused her corps to be set down,And her winding sheet undone,And he made a vow before them allHe'd never kiss wowman again.

9Lady Ouncebell died on the yesterday,Lord Lovill on the morrow;Lady Ouncebell died for pure true love,Lord Lovill died for sorrow.

10Lady Ouncebell was buried in the high chancel,Lord Lovill in the choir;Lady Ouncebell's breast sprung out a sweet rose,Lord Lovill's a bunch of sweet brier.

11They grew till they grew to the top of the church,And then they could grow no higher;They grew till they grew to a true-lover's not,And then they tyed both together.

12An old wowman coming by that way,And a blessing she did crave,To cut off a bunch of that true-lover's not,And buried them both in one grave.

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