Chapter 3

8. He’s built a bower, made it secure Wi’ carbuncle and stane; Tho’ travellers were never sae nigh, Appearance it had nane.

9. He’s kept her there in Elmond’s wood For six lang years and one, Till six pretty sons to him she bear, And the seventh she’s brought home.

10. It fell ance upon a day, This guid lord went from home, And he is to the hunting gane, Took wi’ him his eldest son.

11. And when they were on a guid way, Wi’ slowly pace did walk, The boy’s heart being something wae, He thus began to talk.

12. ‘A question I woud ask, father, Gin ye woudna angry be;’ ‘Say on, say on, my bonny boy, Ye’se nae be quarrell’d by me.’

13. ‘I see my mither’s cheeks aye weet, I never can see them dry; And I wonder what aileth my mither, To mourn continually.’

14. ‘Your mither was a king’s daughter, Sprung frae a high degree, And she might hae wed some worthy prince Had she nae been stown by me.

15. ‘I was her father’s cupbearer, Just at that fatal time; I catch’d her on a misty night, When summer was in prime.

16. ‘My luve to her was most sincere, Her luve was great for me, But when she hardships doth endure, Her folly she does see.’

17. ‘I’ll shoot the buntin’ o’ the bush, The linnet o’ the tree, And bring them to my dear mither, See if she’ll merrier be.’

18. It fell upo’ another day, This guid lord he thought lang, And he is to the hunting gane, Took wi’ him his dog and gun.

19. Wi’ bow and arrow by his side, He’s aff, single, alane, And left his seven children to stay Wi’ their mither at hame.

20. ‘O I will tell to you, mither, Gin ye wadna angry be:’ ‘Speak on, speak on, my little wee boy, Ye’se nae be quarrell’d by me.’

21. ‘As we came frae the hynd-hunting, We heard fine music ring:’ ‘My blessings on you, my bonny boy, I wish I’d been there my lane.’

22. He’s ta’en his mither by the hand, His six brithers also, And they are on thro’ Elmond’s wood As fast as they coud go.

23. They wistna weel where they were gaen, Wi’ the stratlins o’ their feet; They wistna weel where they were gaen, Till at her father’s yate.

24. ‘I hae nae money in my pocket, But royal rings hae three; I’ll gie them you, my little young son, And ye’ll walk there for me.

25. ‘Ye’ll gie the first to the proud porter, And he will lat you in; Ye’ll gie the next to the butler-boy, And he will show you ben.

26. ‘Ye’ll gie the third to the minstrel That plays before the King; He’ll play success to the bonny boy Came thro’ the wood him lane.’

27. He ga’e the first to the proud porter, And he open’d an’ let him in; He ga’e the next to the butler-boy, And he has shown him ben;

28. He ga’e the third to the minstrel That play’d before the King; And he play’d success to the bonny boy Came thro’ the wood him lane.

29. Now when he came before the King, Fell low down on his knee; The King he turned round about, And the saut tear blinded his e’e.

30. ‘Win up, win up, my bonny boy, Gang frae my companie; Ye look sae like my dear daughter, My heart will birst in three.’

31. ‘If I look like your dear daughter, A wonder it is none; If I look like your dear daughter, I am her eldest son.’

32. ‘Will ye tell me, ye little wee boy, Where may my Margaret be?’ ‘She’s just now standing at your yates, And my six brithers her wi’.’

33. ‘O where are all my porter-boys That I pay meat and fee, To open my yates baith wide and braid? Let her come in to me.’

34. When she came in before the King, Fell low down on her knee; ‘Win up, win up, my daughter dear, This day ye’ll dine wi’ me.’

35. ‘Ae bit I canno eat, father, Nor ae drop can I drink, Till I see my mither and sister dear, For lang for them I think!’

36. When she came before the queen, Fell low down on her knee; ‘Win up, win up, my daughter dear, This day ye’se dine wi’ me.’

37. ‘Ae bit I canno eat, mither, Nor ae drop can I drink, Until I see my dear sister, For lang for her I think.’

38. When that these two sisters met, She hail’d her courteouslie; ‘Come ben, come ben, my sister dear, This day ye’se dine wi’ me.’

39. ‘Ae bit I canno eat, sister, Nor ae drop can I drink, Until I see my dear husband, For lang for him I think.’

40. ‘O where are all my rangers bold That I pay meat and fee, To search the forest far an’ wide, And bring Akin to me?’

41. Out it speaks the little wee boy: ‘Na, na, this maunna be; Without ye grant a free pardon, I hope ye’ll nae him see!’

42. ‘O here I grant a free pardon, Well seal’d by my own han’; Ye may make search for Young Akin, As soon as ever you can.’

43. They search’d the country wide and braid, The forests far and near, And found him into Elmond’s wood, Tearing his yellow hair.

44. ‘Win up, win up now, Young Akin, Win up and boun wi’ me; We’re messengers come from the court, The king wants you to see.’

45. ‘O lat him take frae me my head, Or hang me on a tree; For since I’ve lost my dear lady, Life’s no pleasure to me.’

46. ‘Your head will nae be touch’d, Akin, Nor hang’d upon a tree; Your lady’s in her father’s court, And all he wants is thee.’

47. When he came in before the King, Fell low down on his knee: ‘Win up, win up now, Young Akin, This day ye’se dine wi’ me.’

48. But as they were at dinner set, The boy asked a boun: ‘I wish we were in the good church, For to get christendoun.

49. ‘We hae lived in guid green wood This seven years and ane; But a’ this time, since e’er I mind, Was never a church within.’

50. ‘Your asking’s nae sae great, my boy, But granted it shall be: This day to guid church ye shall gang, And your mither shall gang you wi’.’

51. When she came unto the guid church, She at the door did stan’; She was sae sair sunk down wi’ shame, She couldna come farer ben.

52. Then out it speaks the parish priest, And a sweet smile ga’e he: ‘Come ben, come ben, my lily-flower, Present your babes to me.’

53. Charles, Vincent, Sam and Dick, And likewise James and John; They call’d the eldest Young Akin, Which was his father’s name.

54. Then they staid in the royal court, And liv’d wi’ mirth and glee, And when her father was deceas’d, Heir of the crown was she.

[Annotations: 4.4: ‘spier,’ ask. 14.4: ‘stown,’ stolen. 21.4: ‘my lane,’ by myself. Cp. 26.4. 23.2: ‘stratlins,’ strayings. 44.2: ‘boun,’ go.]

THE UNQUIET GRAVE

+The Text+ is that communicated to the _Folklore Record_ (vol. i. p. 60) by Miss Charlotte Latham, as it was written down from recitation by a girl in Sussex (1868).

+The Story+ is so simple, and so reminiscent of other ballads, that we must suppose this version to be but a fragment of some forgotten ballad. Its chief interest lies in the setting forth of a common popular belief, namely, that excessive grief for the dead ‘will not let them sleep.’ Cp. Tibullus, Lib. 1. Eleg. 1, lines 67, 68:--

‘Tu Manes ne laede meos: sed parce solutis Crinibus, et teneris, Delia, parce genis.’

The same belief is recorded in Germany, Scandinavia, India, Persia, and ancient Greece, as well as in England and Scotland (see Sir Walter Scott, _Red-gauntlet_, letter xi., note 2).

There is a version of this ballad beginning--

‘Proud Boreas makes a hideous noise.’

It is almost needless to add that this is from Buchan’s manuscripts.

THE UNQUIET GRAVE

1. ‘The wind doth blow today, my love, And a few small drops of rain; I never had but one true love, In cold grave she was lain.

2. ‘I’ll do as much for my true love As any young man may; I’ll sit and mourn all at her grave For a twelvemonth and a day.’

3. The twelvemonth and a day being up, The dead began to speak: ‘Oh who sits weeping on my grave, And will not let me sleep?’

4. ‘’Tis I, my love, sits on your grave, And will not let you sleep; For I crave one kiss of your clay-cold lips, And that is all I seek.’

5. ‘You crave one kiss of my clay-cold lips; But my breath smells earthy strong; If you have one kiss of my clay-cold lips, Your time will not be long.

6. ‘’Tis down in yonder garden green, Love, where we used to walk; The finest flower that ere was seen Is withered to a stalk.

7. ‘The stalk is withered dry, my love, So will our hearts decay; So make yourself content, my love, Till God calls you away.’

[Annotations: 5.3,4: Cp. _Clerk Sanders_, 30.3,4 6.3: ‘ere’ = e’er.]

CLERK COLVEN

+The Text.+--This ballad was one of two transcribed from the now lost Tytler-Brown MS., and the transcript is given here. A considerable portion of the story is lost between stanzas 6 and 7.

+The Story+ in its full form is found in a German poem of the twelfth or thirteenth century (_Der Ritter von Stauffenberg_) as well as in many Scandinavian ballads.

In the German tale, the fairy bound the knight to marry no one; on that condition she would come to him whenever he wished, if he were alone, and would bestow endless gifts upon him: if ever he did marry, he would die within three days. Eventually he was forced to marry, and died as he had been warned.

In seventy Scandinavian ballads, the story remains much the same. The hero’s name is Oluf or Ole, or some modification of this, of which ‘Colvill,’ or ‘Colven,’ as we have it here, is the English equivalent. Oluf, riding out, is accosted by elves or dwarfs, and one of them asks him to dance with her. If he will, a gift is offered; if he will not, a threat is made. Gifts and threats naturally vary in different versions. He attempts to escape, is struck or stabbed fatally, and rides home and dies. His bride is for some time kept in ignorance of his death by various shifts, but at last discovers the truth, and her heart breaks. Oluf’s mother dies also.

It will be seen from this account how much is lost in our ballad. But it is evident that Clerk Colven’s lady has heard of his previous acquaintance with the mermaiden. This point survives only in four Färöe ballads out of the seventy Scandinavian versions.

The story is also found in French, Breton, Spanish, etc.

CLERK COLVEN

1. Clark Colven and his gay ladie, As they walked to yon garden green, A belt about her middle gimp, Which cost Clark Colven crowns fifteen:

2. ‘O hearken weel now, my good lord, O hearken weel to what I say; When ye gang to the wall o’ Stream, O gang nae neer the well-fared may.’

3. ‘O haud your tongue, my gay ladie, Tak nae sic care o’ me; For I nae saw a fair woman I like so well as thee.’

4. He mounted on his berry-brown steed, And merry, merry rade he on, Till he came to the wall o’ Stream, And there he saw the mermaiden.

5. ‘Ye wash, ye wash, ye bonny may, And ay’s ye wash your sark o’ silk’: ‘It’s a’ for you, ye gentle knight, My skin is whiter than the milk.’

6. He’s ta’en her by the milk-white hand, He’s ta’en her by the sleeve sae green, And he’s forgotten his gay ladie, And away with the fair maiden.

*** *** ***

7. ‘Ohon, alas!’ says Clark Colven, ‘And aye sae sair’s I mean my head!’ And merrily leugh the mermaiden, ‘O win on till you be dead.

8. ‘But out ye tak your little pen-knife, And frae my sark ye shear a gare; Row that about your lovely head, And the pain ye’ll never feel nae mair.’

9. Out he has ta’en his little pen-knife, And frae her sark he’s shorn a gare, Rowed that about his lovely head, But the pain increased mair and mair.

10. ‘Ohon, alas!’ says Clark Colven, ‘An’ aye sae sair’s I mean my head!’ And merrily laugh’d the mermaiden, ‘It will ay be war till ye be dead.’

11. Then out he drew his trusty blade, And thought wi’ it to be her dead, But she’s become a fish again, And merrily sprang into the fleed.

12. He’s mounted on his berry-brown steed, And dowy, dowy rade he home, And heavily, heavily lighted down When to his ladie’s bower-door he came.

13. ‘Oh, mither, mither, mak my bed, And, gentle ladie, lay me down; Oh, brither, brither, unbend my bow, ‘Twill never be bent by me again.’

14. His mither she has made his bed, His gentle ladie laid him down, His brither he has unbent his bow, ‘Twas never bent by him again.

[Annotations: 1.3: ‘gimp,’ slender. 2.4: ‘well-fared may,’ well-favoured maiden. 7.3: ‘leugh,’ laughed. 8.2: ‘gare,’ strip. See First Series, Introduction, p. 1. 8.3: ‘Row,’ roll, bind. 10.4: ‘war,’ worse. 11.4: ‘fleed,’ flood. 12.2: ‘dowy,’ sad.]

TAM LIN

ἀλλ᾽ ἦ τοι πρώτιστα λέων γένετ᾽ ἠϋγένειος, αὐτὰρ ἔπειτα δράκων καὶ πάρδαλις ἠδὲ μέγας σῦς‧ γίγνετο δ’ ὑγρὸν ὕδωρ καὶ δένδρεον ὑψιπέτηλον.

_Odyssey_, IV. 456-8.

+The Text+ here given is from Johnson’s _Museum_, communicated by Burns. Scott’s version (1802), _The Young Tamlane_, contained certain verses, ‘obtained from a gentleman residing near Langholm, which are said to be very ancient, though the language is somewhat of a modern cast.’ --‘Of a grossly modern invention,’ says Child, ‘and as unlike popular verse as anything can be.’ Here is a specimen:--

‘They sing, inspired with love and joy, Like skylarks in the air; Of solid sense, or thought that’s grave, You’ll find no traces there.’

A copy in the Glenriddell MSS. corresponds very closely with the one here printed, doubtless owing to Burns’s friendship with Riddell. Both probably were derived from one common source.

+The Story.+--Although the ballad as it stands is purely Scottish, its main feature, the retransformation of Tam Lin, is found in popular mythology even before Homer’s time.

A Cretan ballad, taken down about 1820-30, relates that a young peasant, falling in love with a nereid, was advised by an old woman to seize his beloved by the hair just before cock-crow, and hold her fast, whatever transformation she might undergo. He did so; the nymph became in turn a dog, a snake, a camel, and fire. In spite of all, he retained his hold; and at the next crowing of the cock she regained her beauty, and accompanied him home. After a year, in which she spoke no word, she bore a son. The peasant again applied to the old woman for a cure, and was advised to tell his wife that if she would not speak, he would throw the baby into the oven. On his carrying out the old woman’s suggestion the nereid cried out, ‘Let go my child, dog!’ tore her baby from him, and vanished.

This tale was current among the Cretan peasantry in 1820. Two thousand years before, Apollodorus had told much the same story of Peleus and Thetis (_Bibliotheca_, iii. 13). The chief difference is that it was Thetis who placed her son on the fire, to make him immortal, and Peleus who cried out. _The Tayl of the yong Tamlene_ is mentioned in the _Complaint of Scotland_ (1549).

Carterhaugh is about a mile from Selkirk, at the confluence of the Ettrick and the Yarrow.

The significance of 34.3, ‘Then throw me into well water,’ is lost in the present version, by the position of the line _after_ the ‘burning gleed,’ as it seems the reciter regarded the well-water merely as a means of extinguishing the gleed. But the immersion in water has a meaning far deeper and more interesting than that. It is a widespread and ancient belief in folklore that immersion in water (or sometimes milk) is indispensable to the recovery of human shape, after existence in a supernatural shape, or _vice versâ_. The version in the Glenriddell MSS. rightly gives it as the _last_ direction to Janet, to be adopted when the transformations are at an end:--

‘First dip me in a stand o’ milk, And then a stand o’ water.’

For the beginning of _Tam Lin_, compare the meeting of Akin and Lady Margaret in Elmond-wood in _Young Akin_.

TAM LIN

1. O I forbid you, maidens a’, That wear gowd on your hair, To come or gae by Carterhaugh, For young Tam Lin is there.

2. There’s nane that gaes by Carterhaugh But they leave him a wad, Either their rings, or green mantles, Or else their maidenhead.

3. Janet has kilted her green kirtle A little aboon her knee, And she has broded her yellow hair A little aboon her bree, And she’s awa’ to Carterhaugh, As fast as she can hie.

4. When she came to Carterhaugh Tam Lin was at the well, And there she fand his steed standing, But away was himsel’.

5. She had na pu’d a double rose, A rose but only twa, Till up then started young Tam Lin, Says, ‘Lady, thou’s pu’ nae mae.

6. ‘Why pu’s thou the rose, Janet, And why breaks thou the wand? Or why comes thou to Carterhaugh Withoutten my command?’

7. ‘Carterhaugh, it is my ain, My daddie gave it me; I’ll come and gang by Carterhaugh, And ask nae leave at thee.’ ... ... ...

8. 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 is to her father’s ha’, As fast as she can hie.

9. Four and twenty ladies fair Were playing at the ba’, And out then cam’ the fair Janet, Ance the flower amang them a’.

10. Four and twenty ladies fair Were playing at the chess, And out then cam’ the fair Janet, As green as onie glass.

11. Out then spak an auld grey knight, Lay o’er the castle wa’, And says, ‘Alas, fair Janet, for thee But we’ll be blamed a’.’

12. ‘Haud your tongue, ye auld fac’d knight, Some ill death may ye die! Father my bairn on whom I will, I’ll father nane on thee.’

13. Out then spak her father dear, And he spak meek and mild; ‘And ever alas, sweet Janet,’ he says, ‘I think thou gaes wi’ child.’

14. ‘If that I gae wi’ child, father, Mysel’ maun bear the blame; There’s ne’er a laird about your ha’ Shall get the bairn’s name.

15. ‘If my love were an earthly knight, As he’s an elfin grey, I wadna gie my ain true-love For nae lord that ye hae.

16. ‘The steed that my true-love rides on Is lighter than the wind; Wi’ siller he is shod before, Wi’ burning gowd behind.’

17. 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.

18. When she cam’ to Carterhaugh, Tam Lin was at the well, And there she fand his steed standing, But away was himsel’.

19. She had na pu’d a double rose, A rose but only twa, Till up then started young Tam Lin, Says, ‘Lady, thou pu’s nae mae.

20. ‘Why pu’s thou the rose, Janet, Amang the groves sae green, And a’ to kill the bonie babe That we gat us between?’

21. ‘O tell me, tell me, Tam Lin,’ she says, ‘For’s sake that died on tree, If e’er ye was in holy chapel, Or christendom did see?’

22. ‘Roxbrugh he was my grandfather, Took me with him to bide, And ance it fell upon a day That wae did me betide.

23. ‘And ance it fell upon a day, A cauld day and a snell, When we were frae the hunting come, That frae my horse I fell; The Queen o’ Fairies she caught me, In yon green hill to dwell.

24. ‘And pleasant is the fairy land, But, an eerie tale to tell, Ay at the end of seven years We pay a tiend to hell; I am sae fair and fu’ o’ flesh, I’m fear’d it be mysel’.

25. ‘But the night is Halloween, lady, The morn is Hallowday; Then win me, win me, an ye will, For weel I wat ye may.

26. ‘Just at the mirk and midnight hour The fairy folk will ride, And they that wad their true-love win, At Miles Cross they maun bide.’

27. ‘But how shall I thee ken, Tam Lin, Or how my true-love know, Amang sae mony unco knights The like I never saw?’

28. ‘O first let pass the black, lady, And syne let pass the brown, But quickly run to the milk-white steed, Pu’ ye his rider down.

29. ‘For I’ll ride on the milk-white steed, And ay nearest the town; Because I was an earthly knight They gie me that renown.

30. ‘My right hand will be glov’d, lady, My left hand will be bare, Cockt up shall my bonnet be, And kaim’d down shall my hair; And thae’s the takens I gie thee, Nae doubt I will be there.

31. ‘They’ll turn me in your arms, lady, Into an esk and adder; But hold me fast, and fear me not, I am your bairn’s father.

32. ‘They’ll turn me to a bear sae grim, And then a lion bold; But hold me fast, and fear me not, As ye shall love your child.

33. ‘Again they’ll turn me in your arms To a red het gaud of airn; But hold me fast, and fear me not, I’ll do to you nae harm.

34. ‘And last they’ll turn me in your arms Into the burning gleed; Then throw me into well water, O throw me in wi’ speed.

35. ‘And then I’ll be your ain true-love, I’ll turn a naked knight; Then cover me wi’ your green mantle, And cover me out o’ sight.’

36. Gloomy, gloomy was the night, And eerie was the way, As fair Jenny in her green mantle To Miles Cross she did gae.

37. About the middle o’ the night She heard the bridles ring; This lady was as glad at that As any earthly thing.

38. First she let the black pass by, And syne she let the brown; But quickly she ran to the milk-white steed, And pu’d the rider down.

39. Sae weel she minded whae he did say, And young Tarn Lin did win; Syne cover’d him wi’ her green mantle, As blythe’s a bird in spring.

40. Out then spak the Queen o’ Fairies, Out of a bush o’ broom: ‘Them that has gotten young Tam Lin Has gotten a stately groom.’

41. Out then spak the Queen o’ Fairies, And an angry woman was she: ‘Shame betide her ill-far’d face, And an ill death may she die, For she’s ta’en awa’ the bonniest knight In a’ my companie.

42. ‘But had I kend, Tam Lin,’ she says, ‘What now this night I see, I wad hae ta’en out thy twa grey een, And put in twa een o’ tree.’

[Annotations: 2.2: ‘wad,’ forfeit. 3.4: ‘bree,’ brow. 8.3: ‘snooded,’ tied with a fillet. 10.4: ‘glass’: perhaps a mistake for ‘grass.’ 23.2: ‘snell,’ keen. 24.4: ‘tiend,’ tithe. 31.2: ‘esk,’ newt. 33.2: ‘gaud,’ bar. 34.2: ‘gleed,’ a glowing coal. 42.4: ‘tree,’ wood.]

THE CLERK’S TWA SONS O’ OWSENFORD, and THE WIFE OF USHER’S WELL

These two ballads must be considered together, as the last six verses (18-23) of _The Clerk’s Twa Sons_, as here given, are a variant of _The Wife of Usher’s Well_.

+Texts.+--_The Clerk’s Twa Sons_ is taken from Kinloch’s MSS., in the handwriting of James Chambers, as it was sung to his grandmother by an old woman.

_The Wife of Usher’s Well_ is from Scott’s _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, and however incomplete, may well stand alone.

+The Story+ has a fairly close parallel in the well-known German ballad, ‘Das Schloss in Oesterreich’; and a ballad found both in Spain and Italy has resemblances to each. But in these two ballads, especially in _The Wife of Usher’s Well_, the interest lies rather in the impressiveness of the verses than in the story.

THE CLERK’S TWA SONS O’ OWSENFORD

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

2. They hadna been in fair Parish A twelvemonth an’ a day, Till the clerk’s twa sons o’ Owsenford Wi’ the mayor’s twa daughters lay.