Ballads of Mystery and Miracle and Fyttes of Mirth Popular Ballads of the Olden Times - Second Series — Inside the Classic

or a small bannock. Gertrude took a niggardly pinch of dough, and began to roll it into a bannock; but as she rolled, it grew, until she put it aside as too large to give away, and took a still smaller pinch. This also grew miraculously, and was put aside. The same thing happened a third time, till she said, ‘I cannot roll you a small bannock.’ Then Christ said, ‘For your selfishness, you shall become a bird, and seek your food ’twixt bark and bole.’ Gertrude at once became a bird, and flew up into a tree with a screech. And to this day the great woodpecker of Scandinavia is called ‘Gertrude’s Bird,’ and has a red head.

The Ballads of Riddle and Repartee do not amount to very many in our tongue. But they contain riddles which may be found in one form or another in nearly every folklore on the earth. Even Samson had a riddle. Always popular, they seem to have been especial favourites in early Oriental literature, in the mediæval Latin races, and, in slightly more modern times, amongst the Teutonic and Scandinavian peoples. Perhaps _King John and the Abbot_ is the best English specimen, for it is to-day as pleasing to an audience as it can ever have been. But _Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight_, better known as _May Colvin_, is the most startling of any, in its myriad ramifications and supposed origin.

The ‘Fyttes of Mirth’ conclude the present volume. It may be as well to say here that I have placed under this head any ballad that tells of a successful issue and has a happy ending or mirthful climax.

The version I have given of that famous ballad _The Lord of Learne_ (or, more commonly, _Lorne_) is most enchanting in its _naïveté_, and, when read aloud or recited, is exceedingly effective. The curious remark that the affectionate parting between the young Lord and his father and mother would have changed even a Jew’s heart; the picturesque description of the siege of the castle, so close that ‘a swallow could not have flown away’; the sudden descent from romance to a judicial trial; the remarkable assumption by the foreman of the jury of the privileges of a judge; and the thoroughly satisfactory description of the false steward’s execution--

‘I-wis they did him curstly cumber!’

--all these help to form the ever-popular _Lord of Learne_.

The remaining ‘Fyttes of Mirth’ are mostly well known, and require no further comment.

ADDITION TO GLOSSARY OF BALLAD COMMONPLACES

(See First Series, pp. xlvi-li)

The late Professor York Powell explained to me, since the note on ‘gare’ (First Series, p. 1) was written, that the word means exactly what is meant by ‘gore’ in modern dressmaking. The antique skirt was made of four pieces: two cut square, to form the front and the back; and two of a triangular shape, to fill the space between, the apex of the triangle, of course, being at the waist. Thus a knife that ‘hangs low down’ by a person’s ‘gare,’ simply means that the knife hung at the side and not in front.

+The Text.+--The best-known text of this famous ballad is that given by Scott in the _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, derived ‘from a copy obtained from a lady residing not far from Erceldoune, corrected and enlarged by one in Mrs. Brown’s MS.’ Scott’s ballad is compounded, therefore, of a traditional version, and the one here given, from the Tytler-Brown MS., which was printed by Jamieson with a few changes. It does not mention Huntlie bank or the Eildon tree. Scott’s text may be seen printed parallel with Jamieson’s in Professor J. A. H. Murray’s book referred to below.

+The Story.+--As early as the fourteenth century there lived a Thomas of Erceldoune, or Thomas the Rhymer, who had a reputation as a seer and prophet. His fame was not extinct in the nineteenth century, and a collection of prophecies by him and Merlin and others, first issued in 1603, could be found at the beginning of that century ‘in most farmhouses in Scotland’ (Murray, _The Romance and Prophecies of Thomas of Erceldoune_, E.E.T.S., 1875). The existence of a Thomas de Ercildoun, son and heir of Thomas Rymour de Ercildoun, both living during the thirteenth century, is recorded in contemporary documents.

A poem, extant in five manuscripts (all printed by Murray as above), of which the earliest was written about the middle of the fifteenth century, relates that Thomas of Erceldoune his prophetic powers were given him by the Queen of Elfland, who bore him away to her country for some years, and then restored him to this world lest he should be chosen for the tribute paid to hell. So much is told in the first fytte, which corresponds roughly to our ballad. The rest of the poem consists of prophecies taught to him by the Queen.

The poem contains references to a still earlier story, which probably narrated only the episode of Thomas’s adventure in Elfland, and to which the prophecies of Thomas Rymour of Ercildoun were added at a later date. The story of Thomas and the Queen of Elfland is only another version of a legend of Ogier le Danois and Morgan the Fay.

Our ballad is almost certainly derived directly from the poem, and the version here given is not marred by the repugnant ending of Scott’s ballad, where Thomas objects to the gift of a tongue that can never lie. But Scott’s version retains Huntlie bank and the Eildon tree, both mentioned in the old poem, and both exactly located during last century at the foot of the Eildon Hills, above Melrose (see an interesting account in Murray, _op. cit._, Introduction, pp. l-lii and footnotes).

1. True Thomas lay o’er yond grassy bank, And he beheld a ladie gay, A ladie that was brisk and bold, Come riding o’er the fernie brae.

2. Her skirt was of the grass-green silk, Her mantel of the velvet fine, At ilka tett of her horse’s mane Hung fifty silver bells and nine.

3. True Thomas he took off his hat, And bowed him low down till his knee: ‘All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven! For your peer on earth I never did see.’

4. ‘O no, O no, True Thomas,’ she says, ‘That name does not belong to me; I am but the queen of fair Elfland, And I’m come here for to visit thee.

5. ‘But ye maun go wi’ me now, Thomas, True Thomas, ye maun go wi’ me, For ye maun serve me seven years, Thro’ weel or wae, as may chance to be.’

6. She turned about her milk-white steed, And took True Thomas up behind, And aye whene’er her bridle rang, The steed flew swifter than the wind.

7. For forty days and forty nights He wade thro’ red blude to the knee, And he saw neither sun nor moon, But heard the roaring of the sea.

8. O they rade on, and further on, Until they came to a garden green: ‘Light down, light down, ye ladie free, Some of that fruit let me pull to thee.’

9. ‘O no, O no, True Thomas,’ she says, ‘That fruit maun not be touched by thee, For a’ the plagues that are in hell Light on the fruit of this countrie.

10. ‘But I have a loaf here in my lap, Likewise a bottle of claret wine, And now ere we go farther on, We’ll rest a while, and ye may dine.’

11. When he had eaten and drunk his fill; ‘Lay down your head upon my knee,’ The lady sayd, ‘ere we climb yon hill, And I will show you fairlies three.

12. ‘O see not ye yon narrow road, So thick beset wi’ thorns and briers? That is the path of righteousness, Tho’ after it but few enquires.

13. ‘And see not ye that braid braid road, That lies across yon lillie leven? That is the path of wickedness, Tho’ some call it the road to heaven.

14. ‘And see not ye that bonny road, Which winds about the fernie brae? That is the road to fair Elfland, Where you and I this night maun gae.

15. ‘But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue, Whatever you may hear or see, For gin ae word you should chance to speak, You will ne’er get back to your ain countrie.’

16. He has gotten a coat of the even cloth, And a pair of shoes of velvet green, And till seven years were past and gone True Thomas on earth was never seen.

[Annotations: 2.3: ‘tett,’ lock or bunch of hair. 7: 7 is 15 in the MS. 8.2: ‘garden’: ‘_golden green_, if my copy is right.’ --Child. 11.4: ‘fairlies,’ marvels. 13.2: ‘lillie leven,’ smooth lawn set with lilies. 16.1: ‘even cloth,’ cloth with the nap worn off.]

THE QUEEN OF ELFAN’S NOURICE

+The Text.+--As printed in Sharpe’s Ballad Book, from the Skene MS. (No. 8). It is fragmentary--regrettably so, especially as stanzas 10-12 belong to _Thomas Rymer_.

+The Story+ is the well-known one of the abduction of a young mother to be the Queen of Elfland’s nurse. Fairies, elves, water-sprites, and nisses or brownies, have constantly required mortal assistance in the nursing of fairy children. Gervase of Tilbury himself saw a woman stolen away for this purpose, as she was washing clothes in the Rhone.

The genuineness of this ballad, deficient as it is, is best proved by its lyrical nature, which, as Child says, ‘forces you to chant, and will not be read.’

‘Elfan,’ of course, is Elfland; ‘nourice,’ a nurse.

THE QUEEN OF ELFAN’S NOURICE

1. ‘I heard a cow low, a bonnie cow low, An’ a cow low down in yon glen; Lang, lang, will my young son greet Or his mother bid him come ben.

2. ‘I heard a cow low, a bonnie cow low, An’ a cow low down in yon fauld; Lang, lang will my young son greet Or his mither take him frae cauld.

3. ‘ ... ... ... ... ... ... Waken, Queen of Elfan, An’ hear your nourice moan.’

4. ‘O moan ye for your meat, Or moan ye for your fee, Or moan ye for the ither bounties That ladies are wont to gie?’

5. ‘I moan na for my meat, Nor moan I for my fee, Nor moan I for the ither bounties That ladies are wont to gie.

6. ‘ ... ... ... ... ... ... But I moan for my young son I left in four nights auld.

7. ‘I moan na for my meat, Nor yet for my fee, But I mourn for Christen land, It’s there I fain would be.’

8. ‘O nurse my bairn, nourice,’ she says, ‘Till he stan’ at your knee, An’ ye’s win hame to Christen land, Whar fain it’s ye wad be.

9. ‘O keep my bairn, nourice, Till he gang by the hauld, An’ ye’s win hame to your young son Ye left in four nights auld.’

10. ‘O nourice lay your head Upo’ my knee: See ye na that narrow road Up by yon tree?

11. ... ... ... ... ... ... That’s the road the righteous goes, And that’s the road to heaven.

12. ‘An’ see na ye that braid road, Down by yon sunny fell? Yon’s the road the wicked gae, An’ that’s the road to hell.’

[Annotations: 1.4: ‘ben,’ within. 9.2: _i.e._ till he can walk by holding on to things.]

+The Text+ is that of the Jamieson-Brown MS.

+The Story+ is one of the countless variations of the French ‘Beauty and the Beast.’ A modern Greek tale narrates that a nereid, enamoured of a youth, and by him scorned, turned him into a snake till he should find another love as fair as she.

The feature of this ballad is that the queen of the fairies should have power to undo the evil done by a witch.

1. O Allison Gross, that lives in yon tow’r, The ugliest witch i’ the north country, Has trysted me ae day up till her bow’r, An’ monny fair speech she made to me.

2. She stroaked my head, an’ she kembed my hair, An’ she set me down saftly on her knee; Says, ‘Gin ye will be my lemman so true, Sae monny braw things as I woud you gi’.’

3. She show’d me a mantle o’ red scarlet, Wi’ gouden flow’rs an’ fringes fine; Says, ‘Gin ye will be my lemman sae true, This goodly gift it sal be thine.’

4. ‘Awa’, awa’, ye ugly witch, Haud far awa’, an’ lat me be; I never will be your lemman sae true, An’ I wish I were out o’ your company.’

5. She neist brought a sark o’ the saftest silk, Well wrought wi’ pearles about the ban’; Says, ‘Gin ye will be my ain true love, This goodly gift you sal comman’.’

6. She show’d me a cup o’ the good red gold, Well set wi’ jewls sae fair to see; Says, ‘Gin you will be my lemman sae true, This goodly gift I will you gi’.’

7. ‘Awa’, awa’, ye ugly witch, Had far awa’, and lat me be! For I woudna ance kiss your ugly mouth For a’ the gifts that you coud gi’.’

8. She’s turn’d her right and roun’ about, An’ thrice she blaw on a grass-green horn; An’ she sware by the meen and the stars abeen, That she’d gar me rue the day I was born.

9. Then out has she ta’en a silver wand, An’ she’s turn’d her three times roun’ and roun’; She’s mutter’d sich words till my strength it fail’d, An’ I fell down senceless upon the groun’.

10. She’s turn’d me into an ugly worm, And gard me toddle about the tree; An’ ay, on ilka Saturday’s night, My sister Maisry came to me;

11. Wi’ silver bason and silver kemb, To kemb my heady upon her knee; But or I had kiss’d her ugly mouth, I’d rather ’a’ toddled about the tree.

12. But as it fell out on last Hallow-even, When the seely court was ridin’ by, The queen lighted down on a gowany bank, Nae far frae the tree where I wont to lye.

13. She took me up in her milk-white han’, An’ she’s stroak’d me three times o’er her knee; She chang’d me again to my ain proper shape, And I nae mair maun toddle about the tree.

[Annotations: 5.1: ‘sark,’ shirt. 12.2: ‘the seely court,’ _i.e._ the fairies’ court. 12.3: ‘gowany,’ daisied.]

THE LAILY WORM AND THE MACHREL OF THE SEA

+The Text+ of this mutilated ballad is taken from the Skene MS., where it was written down from recitation in the North of Scotland about 1802.

+The Story+ is of a double transformation of a sister and brother by a stepmother. Compare the story of _The Marriage of Sir Gawaine_ (First Series, p. 108). _Allison Gross_ should be compared closely with this ballad. The combing of hair seems to be a favourite method of expressing affection, not only in these ballads, but also in Scandinavian folklore. It is needless to take exception to the attribution either of hair to a worm, or of knees to a machrel: though we may note that in one version of _Dives and Lazarus_ Dives ‘has a place prepared in hell to sit on a serpent’s knee.’ However, it is probable that a part of the ballad, now lost, stated that the machrel (whatever it may be) reassumed human shape ‘every Saturday at noon.’

THE LAILY WORM AND THE MACHREL OF THE SEA

1. ‘I was but seven year auld When my mither she did die; My father married the ae warst woman The warld did ever see.

2. ‘For she has made me the laily worm, That lies at the fit o’ the tree, An’ my sister Masery she’s made The machrel of the sea.

3. ‘An’ every Saturday at noon The machrel comes to me, An’ she takes my laily head An’ lays it on her knee, She kaims it wi’ a siller kaim, An’ washes ’t in the sea.

4. ‘Seven knights hae I slain, Sin I lay at the fit of the tree, An’ ye war na my ain father, The eight ane ye should be.’

5. ‘Sing on your song, ye laily worm, That ye did sing to me:’ ‘I never sung that song but what I would sing it to thee.

6. ‘I was but seven year auld, When my mither she did die; My father married the ae warst woman The warld did ever see.

7. ‘For she changed me to the laily worm, That lies at the fit o’ the tree, And my sister Masery To the machrel of the sea.

8. ‘And every Saturday at noon The machrel comes to me, An’ she takes my laily head An’ lays it on her knee, An’ kames it wi’ a siller kame, An’ washes it i’ the sea.

9. ‘Seven knights hae I slain Sin I lay at the fit o’ the tree; An’ ye war na my ain father, The eighth ane ye shoud be.’

10. He sent for his lady, As fast as send could he: ‘Whar is my son that ye sent frae me, And my daughter, Lady Masery?’

11. ‘Your son is at our king’s court, Serving for meat an’ fee, An’ your daughter’s at our queen’s court, ... ... ...’

12. ‘Ye lie, ye ill woman, Sae loud as I hear ye lie; My son’s the laily worm, That lies at the fit o’ the tree, And my daughter, Lady Masery, Is the machrel of the sea!’

13. She has tane a siller wan’, An’ gi’en him strokes three, And he has started up the bravest knight That ever your eyes did see.

14. She has ta’en a small horn, An’ loud an’ shrill blew she, An’ a’ the fish came her untill But the proud machrel of the sea: ‘Ye shapeit me ance an unseemly shape, An’ ye’s never mare shape me.’

15. He has sent to the wood For whins and for hawthorn, An’ he has ta’en that gay lady, An’ there he did her burn.

[Annotation: 2.1 etc.: ‘laily’ = laidly, loathly.]

+The Text+ is that given (nearly _literatim_) by Buchan and Motherwell, and also in the MSS. of the latter.

+The Story.+--This adventure of Owyne (Owain, ‘the King’s son Urien,’ Ywaine, etc.), with the subsequent transformation, has a parallel in an Icelandic saga. Rehabilitation in human shape by means of a kiss is a common tale in the Scandinavian area; occasionally three kisses are necessary.

A similar ballad, now lost, but re-written by the contributor, from scraps of recitation by an old woman in Berwickshire, localises the story of the fire-drake (‘the laidly worm’) near Bamborough in Northumberland; and Kinloch said that the term ‘Childe o’ Wane’ was still applied by disconsolate damsels of Bamborough to any youth who champions them. However, Mr. R. W. Clark of Bamborough, who has kindly made inquiries for me, could find no survival of this use.

The ballad is also called ‘Kempion.’

1. Her mother died when she was young, Which gave her cause to make great moan; Her father married the warst woman That ever lived in Christendom.

2. She served her with foot and hand, In every thing that she could dee, Till once, in an unlucky time, She threw her in ower Craigy’s sea.

3. Says, ‘Lie you there, dove Isabel, And all my sorrows lie with thee; Till Kemp Owyne come ower the sea, And borrow you with kisses three, Let all the warld do what they will, Oh borrowed shall you never be!’

4. Her breath grew strang, her hair grew lang, And twisted thrice about the tree, And all the people, far and near, Thought that a savage beast was she.

5. These news did come to Kemp Owyne, Where he lived, far beyond the sea; He hasted him to Craigy’s sea, And on the savage beast look’d he.

6. Her breath was strang, her hair was lang, And twisted was about the tree, And with a swing she came about: ‘Come to Craigy’s sea, and kiss with me.

7. ‘Here is a royal belt,’ she cried, ‘That I have found in the green sea; And while your body it is on, Drawn shall your blood never be; But if you touch me, tail or fin, I vow my belt your death shall be.’

8. He stepped in, gave her a kiss, The royal belt he brought him wi’; Her breath was strang, her hair was lang, And twisted twice about the tree, And with a swing she came about: ‘Come to Craigy’s sea, and kiss with me.

9. ‘Here is a royal ring,’ she said, ‘That I have found in the green sea; And while your finger it is on, Drawn shall your blood never be; But if you touch me, tail or fin, I swear my ring your death shall be.’