Ballad Book by Katherine Lee Bates (ed.)
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Katherine Lee Bates (ed.) >> Ballad Book
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/ Teutonic.
Ballad Language | Dialectic.
\ Idiomatic.
/ / Description.
/ Ballad Stanza | Peculiar Fitness.
| \ Variations.
|
Ballad Music | / Metre.
| Irregularities in | Accent.
| \ Rhyme.
\ Significance of
\ Irregularities.
/ Introduction.
/ Dramatic Element.
Ballad Structure | Involution of Plot.
\ Proportion of Element.
\ Conclusion.
/ Government.
Early English and Scottish | Family.
Life as reflected in the | Employments.
Ballads | Pastimes.
\ Manners.
Early English and Scottish / Aspirations.
Character as reflected | Principles.
in the Ballads \ Tastes.
Democracy in the Ballads.
Nature in the Ballads.
Color in the Ballads.
History and Science in the Ballads.
Manhood in the Ballads.
Womanhood in the Ballads.
Childhood in the Ballads.
Standards of Morality in the Ballads.
Religion in the Ballads / Pagan Element.
\ Christian Element. / Catholic.
\ Protestant.
Figures of Speech / Enumeration
in the Ballads | General Character.
\ Proportion.
/ Epithets.
/ Numbers.
Stock Material | Refrains.
of the Ballads | Similes.
| Metaphors.
\ Stanzas.
\ Situations.
Humor of the Ballads. / In what consisting.
\ At what directed.
Pathos of the Ballads. / By what elicited.
\ How expressed.
/ In Form.
Beauty of the Ballads. | In Matter.
\ In Spirit.
A more delicate, difficult, and valuable variety of study may be put
upon the ballads, taken one by one, with the aim of impression upon a
class the very simplicity of strength and sweetness in this wild
minstrelsy. The mere recitation or reading of the ballad, with such
unacademic and living comment as shall help the imagination of the
hearer to leap into a vivid realization of the swiftly shifted scenes,
the sympathy to follow with eager comprehension the crowded, changing
passions, the whole nature to thrill with the warm pulse of the rough
old poem, is perhaps the surest way to drive the ballad home, trusting
it to work within the student toward that spirit--development which is
more truly the end of education than mental storage. For these
primitive folk-songs which have done so much to educate the poetic
sense in the fine peasantry of Scotland,--that peasantry which has
produced an Ettrick Shepherd and an Ayrshire Ploughman,--are
assuredly,
"Thanks to the human heart by which we live,"
among the best educators that can be brought into our schoolrooms.
BALLADS OF SUPERSTITION.
THE WEE WEE MAN.
As I was wa'king all alane,
Between a water and a wa',
There I spy'd a wee wee man,
And he was the least that e'er I saw.
His legs were scant a shathmont's length,
And sma' and limber was his thie,
Between his e'en there was a span,
And between his shoulders there was three.
'He took up a meikle stane,
And he flang't as far as I could see;
Though I had been a Wallace wight,
I couldna liften't to my knee.
"O wee wee man, but thou be strang!
O tell me where thy dwelling be?"
"My dwelling's down at yon bonny bower;
O will you go with me and see?"
On we lap, and awa' we rade,
Till we cam' to yon bonny green;
We lighted down for to bait our horse,
And out there cam' a lady sheen.
Four and twenty at her back,
And they were a' clad out in green,
Though the King o' Scotland had been there,
The warst o' them might hae been his Queen.
On we lap, and awa' we rade,
Till we cam' to yon bonny ha',
Where the roof was o' the beaten gowd,
And the floor was o' the crystal a'.
When we cam' to the stair foot,
Ladies were dancing, jimp and sma';
But in the twinkling of an e'e,
My wee wee man was clean awa'.
* * * * *
TAMLANE.
"O I forbid ye, maidens a',
That bind in snood your hair,
To come or gae by Carterhaugh,
For young Tamlane is there."
Fair Janet sat within her bower,
Sewing her silken seam,
And fain would be at Carterhaugh,
Amang the leaves sae green.
She let the seam fa' to her foot,
The needle to her tae,
And she's awa' to Carterhaugh,
As quickly as she may.
She's prink'd hersell, and preen'd hersell,
By the ae light o' the moon,
And she's awa to Carterhaugh,
As fast as she could gang.
She hadna pu'd a red red rose,
A rose but barely three,
When up and starts the young Tamlane,
Says, "Lady, let a-be!
"What gars ye pu' the rose, Janet?
What gars ye break the tree?
Or why come ye to Carterhaugh,
Without the leave o' me?"
"O I will pu' the flowers," she said,
"And I will break the tree;
And I will come to Carterhaugh,
And ask na leave of thee."
But when she cam' to her father's ha',
She looked sae wan and pale,
They thought the lady had gotten a fright,
Or with sickness sair did ail.
Janet has kilted her green kirtle
A little aboon her knee,
And she has snooded her yellow hair
A little aboon her bree,
And she's awa to Carterhaugh,
As fast as she can hie.
She hadna pu'd a rose, a rose,
A rose but barely twae,
When up there started young Tamlane,
Says, "Lady, thou pu's nae mae."
"Now ye maun tell the truth," she said,
A word ye maunna lie;
O, were ye ever in haly chapel,
Or sained in Christentie?"
"The truth I'll tell to thee, Janet,
A word I winna lie;
I was ta'en to the good church-door,
And sained as well as thee.
"Randolph, Earl Murray, was my sire,
Dunbar, Earl March, was thine;
We loved when we were children small,
Which yet you well may mind.
"When I was a boy just turned of nine,
My uncle sent for me,
To hunt, and hawk, and ride with him,
And keep him companie.
"There came a wind out of the north,
A sharp wind and a snell,
And a dead sleep came over me,
And frae my horse I fell;
The Queen of Fairies she was there,
And took me to hersell.
"And we, that live in Fairy-land,
Nae sickness know nor pain;
I quit my body when I will,
And take to it again.
"I quit my body when I please,
Or unto it repair;
We can inhabit at our ease
In either earth or air.
"Our shapes and size we can convert
To either large or small;
An old nut-shell's the same to us
As is the lofty hall.
"We sleep in rose-buds soft and sweet,
We revel in the stream;
We wanton lightly on the wind,
Or glide on a sunbeam.
"And never would I tire, Janet,
In fairy-land to dwell;
But aye, at every seven years,
They pay the teind to hell;
And I'm sae fat and fair of flesh,
I fear 'twill be mysell!
"The morn at e'en is Hallowe'en;
Our fairy court will ride,
Through England and through Scotland baith,
And through the warld sae wide,
And if that ye wad borrow me,
At Miles Cross ye maun bide.
"And ye maun gae to the Miles Cross,
Between twelve hours and one,
Tak' haly water in your hand,
And cast a compass roun'."
"But how shall I thee ken, Tamlane,
And how shall I thee knaw,
Amang the throng o' fairy folk,
The like I never saw?"
"The first court that comes alang,
Ye'll let them a' pass by;
The neist court that comes alang
Salute them reverently.
"The third court that comes alang
Is clad in robes o' green,
And it's the head court of them a',
And in it rides the Queen.
"And I upon a milk-white steed,
Wi' a gold star in my croun;
Because I am a christen'd knight
They give me that renoun.
'First let pass the black, Janet,
And syne let pass the broun,
But grip ye to the milk-white steed,
And pu' the rider doun.
"My right hand will be glov'd, Janet,
My left hand will be bare,
And thae's the tokens I gie thee;
Nae doubt I will be there.
"Ye'll seize upon me with a spring,
And to the ground I'll fa',
And then you'll hear an elrish cry
That Tamlane is awa'.
"They'll turn me in your arms, Janet,
An adder and a snake;
But haud me fast, let me not pass,
Gin ye would be my maik.
"They'll turn me in your arms, Janet,
An adder and an aske;
They'll turn me in your arms, Janet,
A bale that burns fast.
"They'll shape me in your arms, Janet,
A dove, but and a swan:
And last they'll shape me in your arms
A mother-naked man:
Cast your green mantle over me--
And sae shall I be wan!"
Gloomy, gloomy was the night,
And eerie was the way,
As fair Janet, in her green mantle,
To Miles Cross she did gae.
About the dead hour o' the night
She heard the bridles ring,
And Janet was as glad o' that
As ony earthly thing.
There's haly water in her hand,
She casts a compass round;
And straight she sees a fairy band
Come riding o'er the mound.
And first gaed by the black, black steed,
And then gaed by the broun;
But fast she gript the milk-white steed,
And pu'd the rider doun.
She pu'd him frae the milk-white steed,
And loot the bridle fa';
And up there raise an elrish cry;
"He's won amang us a'!"
They shaped him in fair Janet's arms
An aske, but and an adder;
She held him fast in every shape,
To be her ain true lover.
They shaped him in her arms at last
A mother-naked man,
She cuist her mantle over him,
And sae her true love wan.
Up then spake the Queen o' Fairies,
Out of a bush o' broom:
"She that has borrowed young Tamlane,
Has gotten a stately groom!"
Up then spake the Queen o' Fairies,
Out of a bush of rye:
"She's ta'en away the bonniest knight
In a' my companie!
"But had I kenned, Tamlane," she says,
"A lady wad borrow thee,
I wad hae ta'en out thy twa gray e'en,
Put in twa e'en o' tree!
"Had I but kenned, Tamlane," she says,
"Before ye came frae hame,
I wad hae ta'en out your heart of flesh,
Put in a heart o' stane!
"Had I but had the wit yestreen
That I hae coft this day,
I'd hae paid my teind seven times to hell,
Ere you'd been won away!"
* * * * *
TRUE THOMAS.
True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank;
A ferlie he spied with his e'e;
And there he saw a ladye bright,
Come riding down by the Eildon tree.
Her skirt was o' the grass-green silk,
Her mantle o' the velvet fine,
At ilka tett of her horse's mane,
Hung fifty siller bells and nine.
True Thomas he pu'd aff his cap,
And louted low down to his knee;
"All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven!
For thy peer on earth I never did see."
"O no, O no, Thomas," she said,
"That name does not belang to me;
I'm but the Queen of fair Elfland,
That hither am come to visit thee!
"Harp and carp, Thomas," she said,
"Harp and carp alang wi' me;
And if ye daur to kiss my lips,
Sure of your bodie I shall be!"
"Betide me weal, betide me woe,
That weird shall never daunton me!"
Syne he has kissed her rosy lips,
All underneath the Eildon tree.
"Now ye maun go wi' me," she said,
"True Thomas, ye maun go wi' me;
And ye maun serve me seven years,
Through weal or woe as may chance to be."
She's mounted on her milk-white steed,
She's ta'en True Thomas up behind;
And aye, whene'er her bridle rang,
The steed gaed swifter than the wind.
O they rade on, and further on,
The steed gaed swifter than the wind;
Until they reached a desert wide,
And living land was left behind.
"Light down, light down now, Thomas," she said,
"And lean your head upon my knee;
Light down, and rest a little space,
And I will show you ferlies three.
"O see ye na that braid braid road,
That stretches o'er the lily leven?
That is the path of wickedness,
Though some call it the road to heaven.
"And see ye na yon narrow road,
Sae thick beset wi' thorns and briers?
That is the path of righteousness,
Though after it but few enquires.
"And see ye na yon bonny road,
That winds about the ferny brae?
That is the way to fair Elfland,
Where you and I this night maun gae.
"But, Thomas, ye maun hauld your tongue,
Whatever you may hear or see;
For if ye speak word in Elfin land,
Ye'll ne'er win back to your ain countrie!"
O they rade on, and further on,
And they waded through rivers aboon the knee,
And they saw neither sun nor moon,
But they heard the roaring of a sea.
It was mirk mirk night, there was nae stern-light,
And they waded through red blude to the knee;
For a' the blude that's shed on earth,
Kins through the springs o' that countrie.
Syne they came to a garden green,
And she pu'd an apple frae a tree--
"Take this for thy wages, True Thomas;
It will give thee the tongue that can never lie!"
"My tongue is my ain!" True Thomas he said,
"A gudely gift ye wad gie to me!
I neither douglit to buy nor sell,
At fair or tryste where I may be.
"I dought neither speak to prince nor peer,
Nor ask for grace from fair ladye!"
"Now hauld thy tongue, Thomas!" she said
"For as I say, so must it be."
He has gotten a coat of the even claith,
And a pair o' shoon of the velvet green;
And till seven years were come and gane,
True Thomas on earth was never seen.
* * * * *
THE ELFIN KNIGHT.
The Elfin knight stands on yon hill;
(Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw,)
Blawing his horn baith loud and shrill,
(And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'.)
"If I had the horn that I hear blawn,
(Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw,)
And the bonnie knight that blaws the horn!"
(And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'.)
She had na sooner thae words said;
(Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw,)
Than the Elfin knight cam' to her side:
(And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'.)
"Thou art too young a maid," quoth he,
(Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw,)
"Married wi' me you ill wad be."
(And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'.)
"I hae a sister younger than me;
(Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw,)
And she was married yesterday."
(And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'.)
"Married to me ye shall be nane;
(Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw,)
Till ye mak' me a sark without a seam;
(And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'.)
"And ye maun shape it, knifeless, sheerless,
(Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw,)
And ye maun sew it, needle-threedless;
(And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'.)
"And ye maun wash it within a well,
(Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw,)
Whaur dew never wat, nor rain ever fell,
(And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'.)
"And ye maun dry it upon a thorn,
(Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw,)
That never budded sin' Adam was born."
(And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'.)
"O gin that kindness I do for thee;
(Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw,)
There's something ye maun do for me.
(And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'.)
"I hae an acre o' gude lea-land,
(Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw,)
Between the saut sea and the strand;
(And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'.)
"Ye'll plough it wi' your blawing horn,
(Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw,)
And ye will sow it wi' pepper corn,
(And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'.)
"And ye maun harrow't wi' a single tyne,
(Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw,)
And shear it wi' a sheep's shank bane;
(And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'.)
"And bigg a cart o' lime and stane,
(Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw,)
And Robin Redbreast maun trail it hame,
(And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'.)
"And ye maun barn it in a mouse-hole,
(Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw,)
And ye maun thresh it in your shoe sole;
(And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'.)
"And ye maun winnow it wi' your loof,
(Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw,)
And ye maun sack it in your glove;
(And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'.)
"And ye maun dry it, but candle or coal,
(Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw,)
And ye maun grind it, but quern or mill;
(And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'.)
"When ye hae done, and finish'd your wark,
(Blaw, blaw, blaw winds, blaw,)
Then come to me, and ye'se get your sark!"
(And the wind has blawn my plaid awa'.)
* * * * *
LADY ISOBEL AND THE ELF-KNIGHT.
There cam' a bird out o' a bush,
On water for to dine,
An' sighing sair, says the king's daughter,
"O wae's this heart o' mine!"
He's taen a harp into his hand,
He's harped them all asleep,
Except it was the king's daughter,
Who ae wink couldna get.
He's luppen on his berry-brown steed,
Taen 'er on behind himsell,
Then baith rede down to that water
That they ca' Wearie's Well.
"Wide in, wide in, my lady fair,
Nae harm shall thee befall;
Aft times hae I water'd my steed
Wi' the water o' Wearie's Well."
The first step that she stepped in,
She stepped to the knee;
And sighing sair, says this lady fair,
"This water's nae for me."
"Wide in, wide in, my lady fair,
Nae harm shall thee befall;
Aft times hae I water'd my steed
Wi' the water o' Wearie's Well."
The neist step that she stepped in,
She stepped to the middle;
"O," sighend says this lady fair,
"I've wat my gowden girdle."
"Wide in, wide in, my lady fair,
Nae harm shall thee befall;
Aft times hae I water'd my steed
Wi' the water o' Wearie's Well."
The neist step that she stepped in,
She stepped to the chin;
"O," sighend says this lady fair,
"I'll wade nae farer in."
"Seven king's-daughters I've drownd here,
In the water o' Wearie's Well,
And I'll mak' you the eight o' them,
And ring the common bell."
"Sin' I am standing here," she says,
"This dowie death to die,
Ae kiss o' your comely mouth
I'm sure wad comfort me."
He's louted him o'er his saddle bow,
To kiss her cheek and chin;
She's taen him in her arms twa,
An' thrown him headlong in.
"Sin' seven king's-daughters ye've drownd here,
In the water o' Wearie's Well,
I'll mak' you bridegroom to them a',
An' ring the bell mysell."
* * * * *
TOM THUMBE.
In Arthurs court Tom Thumbe did live,
A man of mickle might,
The best of all the table round,
And eke a doughty knight:
His stature but an inch in height,
Or quarter of a span;
Then thinke you not this little knight,
Was prov'd a valiant man?
His father was a plow-man plaine,
His mother milkt the cow,
But yet the way to get a sonne
This couple knew not how,
Untill such time this good old man
To learned Merlin goes,
And there to him his deepe desires
In secret manner showes,
How in his heart he wisht to have
A childe, in time to come,
To be his heire, though it might be
No bigger than his Thumbe.
Of which old Merlin thus foretold,
That he his wish should have,
And so this sonne of stature small
The charmer to him gave.
No blood nor bones in him should be,
In shape and being such,
That men should heare him speake, but not
His wandring shadow touch:
But all unseene to goe or come
Whereas it pleasd him still;
And thus King Arthurs Dwarfe was born,
To fit his fathers will:
And in foure minutes grew so fast,
That he became so tall
As was the plowmans thumbe in height,
And so they did him call
Tom Thumbe, the which the Fayry-Queene
There gave him to his name,
Who, with her traine of Goblins grim,
Unto his christning came.
Whereas she cloath'd him richly brave,
In garments fine and faire,
Which lasted him for many yeares
In seemely sort to weare.
His hat made of an oaken leafe,
His shirt a spiders web,
Both light and soft for those his limbes
That were so smally bred;
His hose and doublet thistle downe,
Togeather weav'd full fine;
His stockins of an apple greene,
Made of the outward rine;
His garters were two little haires,
Pull'd from his mothers eye,
His bootes and shooes a mouses skin,
There tand most curiously.
Thus, like a lustie gallant, he
Adventured forth to goe,
With other children in the streets
His pretty trickes to show.
Where he for counters, pinns, and points,
And cherry stones did play,
Till he amongst those gamesters young
Had loste his stocke away,
Yet could he soone renew the same,
When as most nimbly he
Would dive into their cherry-baggs,
And there partaker be,
Unseene or felt by any one,
Untill a scholler shut
This nimble youth into a boxe,
Wherein his pins he put.
Of whom to be reveng'd, he tooke
(In mirth and pleasant game)
Black pots, and glasses, which he hung
Upon a bright sunne-beam.
The other boyes to doe the like,
In pieces broke them quite;
For which they were most soundly whipt,
Whereat he laught outright.
And so Tom Thumbe restrained was
From these his sports and play,
And by his mother after that
Compel'd at home to stay.
Whereas about a Christmas time,
His father a hog had kil'd,
And Tom would see the puddings made,
For fear they should be spil'd.
He sate upon the pudding-boule,
The candle for to hold;
Of which there is unto this day
A pretty pastime told:
For Tom fell in, and could not be
For ever after found,
For in the blood and batter he
Was strangely lost and drownd.
Where searching long, but all in vaine,
His mother after that
Into a pudding thrust her sonne,
Instead of minced fat.
Which pudding of the largest size
Into the kettle throwne,
Made all the rest to fly thereout,
As with a whirle-wind blowne.
For so it tumbled up and downe,
Within the liquor there,
As if the devill had been boiled;
Such was his mothers feare,
That up she took the pudding strait.
And gave it at the door
Unto a tinker, which from thence
In his blacke budget bore.
From which Tom Thumbe got loose at last
And home return'd againe:
Where he from following dangers long
In safety did remaine.
Now after this, in sowing time,
His father would him have
Into the field to drive his plow,
And thereupon him gave
A whip made of a barly straw
To drive the cattle on:
Where, in a furrow'd land new sowne,
Poore Tom was lost and gon.
Now by a raven of great strength
Away he thence was borne,
And carried in the carrions beake
Even like a graine of corne,
Unto a giants castle top,
In which he let him fall,
Where soone the giant swallowed up
His body, cloathes and all.
But in his stomach did Tom Thumbe
So great a rumbling make,
That neither day nor night he could
The smallest quiet take,
Untill the giant had him spewd
Three miles into the sea,
Whereas a fish soone tooke him up
And bore him thence away.
Which lusty fish was after caught
And to king Arthur sent,
Where Tom was found, and made his dwarfe,
Whereas his dayes he spent
Long time in lively jollity,
Belov'd of all the court,
And none like Tom was then esteem'd
Among the noble sort.
Amongst his deedes of courtship done,
His highnesse did command,
That he should dance a galliard brave
Upon his queenes left hand.
The which he did, and for the same
The king his signet gave,
Which Tom about his middle wore
Long time a girdle brave.
Now after this the king would not
Abroad for pleasure goe,
But still Tom Thumbe must ride with him,
Plac'd on his saddle-bow.
Where on a time when as it rain'd,
Tom Thumbe most nimbly crept
In at a button hole, where he
Within his bosome slept.
And being neere his highnesse heart,
He crav'd a wealthy boone,
A liberall gift, the which the king
Commanded to be done,
For to relieve his fathers wants,
And mothers, being old;
Which was so much of silver coin
As well his armes could hold.
And so away goes lusty Tom,
With three pence on his backe,
A heavy burthen, which might make
His wearied limbes to cracke.
So travelling two dayes and nights,
With labour and great paine,
He came into the house whereas
His parents did remaine;
Which was but halfe a mile in space
From good king Arthurs court,
The which in eight and forty houres
He went in weary sort.
But comming to his fathers doore,
He there such entrance had
As made his parents both rejoice,
And he thereat was glad.
His mother in her apron tooke
Her gentle sonne in haste,
And by the fier side, within
A walnut shell, him plac'd:
Whereas they feasted him three dayes
Upon a hazell nut,
Whereon he rioted so long
He them to charges put;
And thereupon grew wonderous sicke,
Through eating too much meate,
Which was sufficient for a month
For this great man to eate.
But now his businesse call'd him foorth,
King Arthurs court to see,
Whereas no longer from the same
He could a stranger be.
But yet a few small April drops,
Which settled in the way,
His long and weary journey forth
Did hinder and so stay.
Until his carefull father tooke
A hollow straw in sport,
And with one blast blew this his sonne
Into king Arthurs court.
Now he with tilts and turnaments
Was entertained so,
That all the best of Arthurs knights
Did him much pleasure show.
As good Sir Lancelot of the Lake,
Sir Tristram, and sir Guy;
Yet none compar'd with brave Tom Thum,
In knightly chivalry.
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10