Chapter VI: Part I: , Nov. 21 (R. Köhler, in Jahrbuch für Rom. u. Eng. Lit., VIII, (1)

51 ff.); the story of Bernabò da Genova da Ambruogiuolo ingannato, Boccaccio, Decameron, II, 9, repeated in Shakspere’s Cymbeline and many other pieces. Popular tales with the wager are: Campbell, West Highlands, II, 1, No 18; J. W. Wolf’s Deutsche Hausmärchen, p. 355; Simrock, Deutsche Märchen, p. 235 (ed. 1864), No 51; Pröhle, Kinder- und Volksmärchen, No 61, p. 179 (see also p. XLII); Das Ausland, 1856, p. 1053, Roumanian; Miklosich, Märchen u. Lieder der Zigeuner der Bukowina, p. 49, No 14; Bernoni, Fiabe veneziane, p. 1, No 1; Gonzenbach, I, 38, No 7; Pitrè, Fiabe, Novelle e Racconti siciliani, II, 142, 165, Nos 73, 75; Imbriani, Novellaja fiorentina, p. 483. (Some of these have been cited by Köhler, some by Landau.) See, in general, the Grimms, Altdeutsche Wälder, I, 35 ff., II, 181 f.; von der Hagen’s Gesammtabenteuer, introduction to No LXVIII, especially III, XCI-CIX; R. Köhler, as above, and in Orient u. Occident, II, 315; Landau, Quellen des Dekameron, 1884, p. 135 ff.; R. Ohle, Shakespeares Cymbeline und seine romanischen Vorläufer, Berlin, 1890.

[25] Altdeutsche Wälder, I, 35; von der Hagen, Gesammtabenteuer, III, 357.

[26] Lady Charlotte Guest’s Mabinogion, Part VII, pp. 364-83, or p. 477 ff. of the edition of 1877; an abstract in E. Jones’s Bardic Museum, p. 19.

[27] Ayrers Dramen, herausgegeben von A. von Keller, IV, 2279, No 30; Comedia von zweyen fürstlichen räthen die alle beede umb eines gewetts willen umb ein weib bulten, u. s. w.

[28] There is another Danish ballad in which two knights wager on a maid’s fidelity, but it is of entirely different tenor, the maid being lured by a magical horn: ‘Ridderens Runeslag,’ Grundtvig, II, 285, No 73, =A-B=, ‘Ridder Oles Lud,’ Kristensen, II, 108, 353, No 34, =A-C=; Prior, III, 34, No 105.

269

LADY DIAMOND

=A.= ‘Lady Daisy,’ Aytoun’s Ballads of Scotland, II, 173, 1859.

=B.= ‘Lady Dayisie,’ from an old lady’s collection formerly in possession of Sir Walter Scott,[29] now belonging to Mr Macmath, Edinburgh.

=C.= Sharpe’s Ballad Book, p. 12, 1823.

=D.= ‘Lady Diamond,’ Buchan’s MSS, II, 164; ‘Lady Diamond, the King’s Daughter,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 206; ‘Ladye Diamond,’ Dixon, Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, p. 71, Percy Society, vol. xvii.

=E.= ‘Robin, the Kitchie-Boy,’ Joseph Robertson, “Adversaria,” p. 66.

Diamond (Daisy, Dysmal, Dysie), only daughter of a great king, is with child by a very bonny kitchen-boy. The base-born paramour is put to death, and, by the king’s order, his heart is taken to the princess in a cup of gold. She washes it with the tears which run into the cup, =A=, =B=, =C=, and dies of her grief. Her father has a sharp remorse, =A=, =C=; his daughter’s shame looks pardonable, when he considers the beauty of the man he has slain, =A=.

=B= is blended with ‘Willie o Winsbury,’ No 100; cf. =B= 4-9, and No 100, =A= 2-7, =B= 1-5, etc. In ‘Willie o Winsbury’, =B=, the princess’s name is Dysmill. =A= 12, =B= 11 of ‘Lady Diamond’ also recall ‘Willie o Winsbury.’

In =C=, =D=, the kitchen-boy is smothered between two feather-beds.

Isbel was the princess’s name in a copy obtained by Motherwell, but not preserved. Motherwell’s Note-Book, p. 7; C. K. Sharpe’s Correspondence, II, 328.

The ballad is one of a large number of repetitions of Boccaccio’s tale of Guiscardo and Ghismonda, Decamerone, IV, 1. This tale was translated in Painter’s Palace of Pleasure, 1566 (ed. Jacobs, I, 180), and became the foundation of various English poems and plays.[30] Very probably it was circulated in a chap-book edition in Great Britain, as it was in Germany (Simrock, Volksbücher, VI, 153).

Prince Tancredi has an only daughter (cf. =A=, =B=, =C=, 1), whose name is Ghismonda (Diamond, =C=, Dysmal, =B=, Dysie, =D=, Daisy, =A=). She has a secret amour with a young man of inferior condition (valetto, di nazione assai umile; giovane di vilissima condizione, says Tancredi), sunk in the ballad to the rank of kitchen-boy. This young man, Guiscardo, is, however, distinguished for manners and fine qualities; indeed, superior in these to all the nobles of the court. In the ballad he is a very bonny boy (preferred to dukes and earls, =B=, =C=). Guiscardo is strangled (or suffocated); the bonny boy is smothered between two feather-beds in =B= 8, =C= 7. The bonny boy’s heart is cut out and sent to the king’s daughter in a cup of gold, in the ballad; she washes it with the tears that run from her eyes into the cup. Ghismonda, receiving Guiscardo’s heart in a gold cup, sheds a torrent of tears over it, pours a decoction of poisonous herbs into the cup (ove il cuore era da molte delle sue lagrime lavato), and drinks all off, then lies down on her bed and awaits her death. Tancredi, repenting too late of his cruelty, has the pair buried with honors in one tomb.[31]

=Italian. A.= ‘Il padre crudele,’ Widter und Wolf, Volkslieder aus Venetien, p. 72, No 93. A king has an only daughter, Germonia. She has twelve servants to wait upon her, and other twelve to take her to school, and she falls in love with the handsomest, Rizzardo. They talk together, and this is reported to the king by Rizzardo’s fellow-servants. The king shuts Rizzardo up in a room, bandages his eyes, cuts his heart out, puts it in a gold basin, and carries it to his daughter. ‘Take this basin,’ he says; ‘take this fine mess, Rizzardo’s heart is in it.’ Germonia reproaches him for his cruelty; he tells her, if he has done her an offence, to take a knife and do him another. She does not care to do this; however, if he were abed, she would. In a variant, she goes out to a meadow, and ‘poisons herself with her own hands.’

=B.= ‘Flavia,’ Sabatini, Saggio di Canti popolari romani, in Rivista di Letteratura popolare, Rome, 1877, p. 17 f., and separately, 1878, p. 8 f. Flavia has thirteen servants, and becomes enamored of one of these, Ggismónno. His fellows find out that the pair have been communing, and inform the king. ‘Ságra coróna’ orders them to take Ggismónno to prison, and put him to death. They seat him in a chair of gold, and dig out his heart, lay the heart in a basin of gold, and carry it to Flavia, sitting at table, saying, Here is a mess for you. She retires to her chamber, lies down on her bed, and drinks a cup of poison.

=C.= ‘Risguardo belo e Rismonda bela,’ Bernoni, Tradizioni pop. veneziane, p. 39. A count has an only daughter, Rismonda. She has twelve servants, and falls in love with the handsomest, who waits at table,--the handsome Risguardo. She asks him to be her lover; he cannot, for if her father should come to know of such a thing he would put him to death in prison. The knowledge comes to the father, and Risguardo is put into prison. One of his fellows looks him up after a fortnight, and after a month cuts out his heart, and takes it to Rismonda; ‘here is a fine dish, the heart of Risguardo.’ Rismonda, who is sitting at table, goes to her chamber; her father comes to console her; she bids him leave her. If I have done you wrong, he says, take this sword and run it through me. She is not disposed to do this; she will write three letters and die.

All these come from the Decameron, IV, 1. The lover is sunk to a serving-man, as in the Scottish ballad. The names are fairly well preserved in =A=, =C=; in =B= the lover gets his name from the princess, and she is provided with one from the general stock.

=Swedish.= ‘Hertig Fröjdenborg och Fröken Adelin,’ broadside, 48 stanzas, Stockholm, 1757; Afzelius, I, 95, No 19, ed. Bergström och Höijer, I, 81, No 18, 47 sts; Lagus, Nyländska Folkvisor, I, 30, No 8 =a=, 47 sts; Djurklou, Ur Nerikes Folkspråk, p. 96, 22 sts; Dybeck, Runa, 1869, p. 34, 37 sts, of which only 8 are given; Lagus, as above, =b=, 2 sts, =c=, 1 st.; Aminson, Bidrag, I, 1st heft, p. 31, No 6, 2d heft, p. 16, 1 st. each; unprinted fragments, noted by Olrik, Danmarks gamle Folkeviser, V, II, 216 f. The broadside is certainly the source or basis of all the printed copies, and probably of an unpublished fragment of twenty-eight stanzas obtained by Eva Wigström in 1882 (Olrik); some trifling variations are attributable to editing or to tradition.

Adelin is in the garden, making a rose chaplet for Fröjdenborg, who, seeing her from his window, goes to her and expresses the wish that she were his love. Adelin begs him not to talk so; she fears that her father may overhear. False maid-servants tell the king that Fröjdenborg is decoying his daughter; the king orders him to be put in chains and shut up in the dark tower. There he stays fifteen years. Adelin goes to the garden to make Fröjdenborg a garland again. The king sees from his window what she is about, orders her into his presence (he has not cared to see her for fifteen years), and angrily demands what she has been doing in the garden. She says that she has been making a rose garland for Fröjdenborg. ‘Not forgotten him yet?’ ‘No; nor should I, if I lived a hundred years.’ ‘Then I will put a stop to this love.’ Fröjdenborg is taken out of the tower; his hair and beard are gray, but he declares that the fifteen years have seemed to him only a few days. They bind Fröjdenborg to a tree, and kill him as boors slaughter cattle. They lay him on a board, and gut (slit) him as boors gut (slit) a fish. The false maids take his heart and dress the lady a dainty dish. She has a misgiving, and asks what she has eaten. They tell her it is her lover’s heart; then, she says, it shall be my last meal. She asks for drink: she will drink to Fröjdenborg, she will drink herself dead. Her heart breaks; word is carried to her father; God a mercy! he cries, I have betrayed my only child. The two are buried in one grave, from which springs a linden; the linden grows over the church ridge; one leaf enfolds the other.

=Danish.= ‘Hertug Frydenborg,’ in about forty copies from recent tradition and a broadside of the eighteenth century, but not found in old manuscripts: Olrik, Danmarks gamle Folkeviser, V, II, 216, No 305, =H-A=, and Kristensen, XI, 117, No 46. Of these, =E i=, obtained in 1809, had been printed by Nyerup og Rasmussen, Udvalg af danske Viser, II, 238, No 71. Others are in Kristensen’s Skattegraveren, I, 33, No 113, III, 148, Nos 835-38, and in Kristensen’s Jyske Folkeminder, II, 207, No 61 =A-D= (‘Ridderens Hjærte’), and X, 213, 385, 360, No 52 =A-E=, No 94 =B=.

One half of these texts, as Olrik remarks, are of Swedish origin, and even derived from the Swedish broadside; others have marks of their own, and one in particular, which indicates the ultimate source of the story in both the Swedish and the Danish ballad. This source appears to be the Decameron, IV, 1, as in the Scottish and Italian ballads. The points of resemblance are: A princess, an only daughter, has a lover; her father disapproves, and throws the lover into prison (where he remains fifteen years in the ballad, only a day or two in the tale). The lover is taken from prison and put to death, and his heart is cut out. (The heart is not sent to the princess in a golden vessel, as in the Decameron, IV, 1, and the Scottish and Italian ballads, but is cooked, and given her to eat, and is eaten; and she says, when informed that she has eaten her lover’s heart, that it shall be her last food.) In most of the Scandinavian ballads the princess calls for wine (mead), and ‘drinks herself to death.’ But in =C= it is expressly said that she drinks poisoned wine, in =E a=, =c=, =k=, poisonous wine, in =D= that she puts a grain of poison in the cruse. (In =E l= they mix the lover’s blood in wine; she takes two draughts, and her heart bursts.)

A husband giving his wife her lover’s heart to eat is a feature in an extensive series of poems and tales, sufficiently represented for present purposes by the ninth tale in the fourth day of the Decameron, and no further explanation is required of the admixture in the Scandinavian ballad.[32]

In Danish =A a=, =b=, =h=, =o=, =B b=, two lilies spring from the common grave of the lovers, and embrace or grow together. In =E k=, =l=, =F b=, =e=, =f=, and Kristensen, XI, No 46, the lovers are buried apart (she south, he north, of kirk, etc.), a lily springs from each, and the two grow together.

=Low and High German, Dutch.= =A.= ‘Brennenberg,’ 12 stanzas, Uhland, I, 158, No 75 A, Niederdeutsches Liederbuch, No 44, conjectured to be of the beginning of the seventeenth century. ‘Der Bremberger,’ Böhme, p. 87, No 23 B (omitting sts 3, 4); Simrock, Die deutschen Volkslieder, p. 14, No 5, Die geschichtlichen deutschen Sagen, p. 325, No 105 (omitting sts 1-4, and turned into High German). =B.= ‘Ein schöner Bremberger,’ 8 stanzas, flying-sheet, 8°, Nürnberg, Valentin Newber, about 1550-70, Böhme, No 23 A; Wunderhorn, ed. Erk, 1857, IV, 41, modernized. =C.= ‘Van Brandenborch,’ 6 stanzas, Antwerpener Liederbuch, 1544, ed. Hoffmann, p. 120, No 81; Hoffmann’s Niederländische Volkslieder, 1856, p. 34, No 7 (omitting st. 6); Uhland, No 75 B. =D a.= Grasliedlin, 1535, one st., Böhme, No 23 a; Uhland, No 75 C. =b.= The same, heard on the Lower Rhine, 1850, Böhme, No 23 b.

‘Brunenborch,’ Willems, No 53, p. 135, 21 stanzas, purports to be a critical text, constructed partly from copies communicated to the editor (“for the piece is to this day sung in Flanders”), and partly from =C=, =A=, =D a=, and Hoffmann, No 6.[33] It is not entitled to confidence.

All the versions are meagre, and =A= seems to be corrupted and defective at the beginning.[34]

A youth, =B= 2, has watched a winter-long night, brought thereto by a fair maid, =A= 1, 3, =B= 1, to whom he has devoted his heart and thoughts, and with whom he wishes to make off, =A=, =B=. Ill news comes to the maid, =B= 2, that her lover is a prisoner, and has been thrown into a tower. There Brennenberg (=A=, der Bremberger, =B=, Brandenborch, =C=, der Brandenburger, =D a=) lay seven years or more, till his head was white and his beard was gray. They laid him on a table and slit him like a fish,[35] cut out his heart, dressed it with pepper, and gave it to the fairest, =A=, the dame, =B=, the dearest, =C=, to eat. ‘What have I eaten that tasted so good?’ ‘Brennenberg’s heart,’ =A=. ‘If it is his heart, pour wine for me, and give me to drink.’ She set the beaker to her mouth, and drank it to the bottom, =B=. The first drop she drank, her heart broke into a dozen bits, =A=, =C=. (Their love was pure, such as no one could forbid, =A= 11; the same implied in =A= 12, =C= 5.)

The German-Dutch ballad, though printed two hundred years before any known copy of the Swedish-Danish, is much less explicit. The lady is certainly a maid in =B=, and she is a maid in =A= if the first stanza is accepted as belonging to the ballad. Then it should be her father who proceeds so cruelly against her. The wine-drinking, followed by speedy death, may come, as it almost certainly does in some of the Scandinavian ballads, from the story of Ghismonda; and therefore the German-Dutch ballads, as they stand, may perhaps be treated as a blending of the first and the ninth tale of Boccaccio’s fourth day. But there is a German meisterlied, printed, like =B=, =C=, =D a=, in the sixteenth century, which has close relation with these ballads, and much more of Boccaccio’s ninth tale in it: ‘Von dem Brembergers end und tod,’ von der Hagen’s Minnesinger, IV, 281, Wunderhorn, 1808, II, 229, epitomized in the Grimms’ Deutsche Sagen, II, 211, No 500. The knight Bremberger has loved another man’s wife. The husband cuts off his head, and gives his heart to the lady to eat. He asks her if she can tell what she has eaten. She would be glad to know, it tasted so good. She is told that it is Bremberger’s heart. She says she will take a drink upon it, and never eat or drink more. The lady hastens from table to her chamber, grieves over Bremberger’s fate, protesting that they had never been too intimate, starves herself, and dies the eleventh day. The husband suffers great pangs for having ‘betrayed’[36] her and her deserving servant, and sticks a knife into his heart.[37]

The incident of a husband giving his wife her lover’s heart to eat occurs in a considerable number of tales and poems in literature, and in all is obviously of the same source.

Ysolt, in the romance of Tristan, twelfth century, sings a lai how Guirun was slain for love of a lady, and his heart given by the count to his wife to eat. (Michel, III, 39, vv. 781-90.)

Ramon de Castel Rossillon (Raimons de Rosillon) cut off the head of Guillems de Cabestaing, lover of his wife, Seremonda (Margarita), took the heart from the body, ‘fetz lo raustir e far pebrada,’ and gave it to his wife to eat. He then told her what she had been eating (showing her Cabestaing’s head), and asked her if it was good. So good, she said, that she would never eat or drink more; hearing which, her husband rushed at her with his sword, and she fled to a balcony, let herself fall (threw herself from a window), and was killed. (Chabaneau, Les Biographies des Troubadours en langue provençale, pp. 99-103, MSS of the thirteenth and the fourteenth century.) Nearly the same story, ‘secondo che raccontano i provenzali,’ in the Decameron, IV, 9, of Messer Guiglielmo Rossiglione and Messer Guiglielmo Guardastagno. The lady says that she liked very much the dish which she had eaten, and the husband, No wonder that you should like when it was dead the thing which you liked best of all when it was living: what you have eaten was Guardastagno’s heart. God forbid, replies the lady, that I should swallow anything else after so noble a repast; then lets herself drop from a high window.

In Konrad von Würzburg, ‘Das Herz,’ ‘Das Herzmäre,’ 1260-70, five or six hundred verses, a knight and a lady are inflamed with a mutual passion (tugendhafter mann, reines weib). The lady’s husband conceives that he may break this up by taking her to the Holy Land. In that case, the knight proposes to follow; but the lady prevails upon him to go before her husband shall take this step, with the object of lulling his jealousy and stopping the world’s talk. The knight goes, and dies of the separation. As his end was approaching, he had ordered his attendant to take out his heart, embalm it, enclose it in a gold box, and carry it to the lady. The husband lights upon the emissary, takes away the box, directs his cook to make a choice dish of the heart, and has this set before his wife for her exclusive enjoyment. He asks her how she finds it, and she declares that she has never eaten anything so delicious. She is then told that she has eaten the knight’s heart, sent her by him as a token. God defend, she exclaims, that any ordinary food should pass my mouth after so precious victual, and thereupon dies (von der Hagen’s Gesammtabenteuer, I, 225). The same story is introduced as an “example” in a sermon-book: ‘Quidam miles tutpiter adamavit uxorem alterius militis.’[38] The lady kills herself.

Again, in a romance of eight thousand verses, of the Châtelain de Couci and la Dame de Faiel (of the end of the thirteenth or the beginning of the fourteenth century), with the difference that the châtelain takes the cross, is wounded with a poisoned arrow, and dies on his way to France. (Jakemon Sakesep, Roman du Châtelain de Couci, etc., ed. Crapelet, 1829.) From this romance was derived The Knight of Curtesy and the Fair Lady of Faguell (in which the lady is chaste to her lord as is the turtle upon the tree), five hundred verses, Ritson’s Metrical Romanceës, III, 193, from an edition by William Copland, “before 1568;” also a chap-book, curiously adapted to its time, ‘The Constant but Unhappy Lovers,’ London, 1707 (cited by Clouston, Popular Tales and Fictions, II, 191).

Descending to tradition of the present time, we find in the adventures of Rájá Rasálu, as told in verse and prose in the north of India, surprising agreements with Boccaccio’s tale: =a=. Temple’s Legends of the Panjâb, I, 64 f., 1883. =b.= The same, III, 240 f., 1886. =c.= Swynnerton in the Folk-Lore Journal, I, 143 ff., 1883, and in The Adventures of Rájá Rasálu, 1884, pp. 130-35. =d.= Clouston, Popular Tales and Fictions, II, 192, from a book privately printed, 1851. Rájá Rasálu kills his wife’s lover, tears out his heart, =a=, heart and liver, =d=, takes of his flesh, =b=, =c=, roasts and gives to his wife to eat. She finds the meat is very good, =a=, no venison was ever so dainty, =c=. The king retorts, You enjoyed him when he was living; why should you not relish his flesh now that he is dead? and shows her the body of his rival. She leaps from the palace wall and is killed (=c= only). (Rájá Rasálu is assigned to our second century.)

A Danish ballad in Syv’s collection, 1695, has one half of the story. A king has a man for whom his wife has a fancy chopped up and cooked and served to the queen. She does not eat. (‘Livsvandet,’ Grundtvig, II, 504, No 94 =A=, Prior, I, 391.)

Very like the Indian and the Provençal _sage_, but with change of the parts of husband and wife, is what Mme d’Aulnoy relates as having been enacted in the Astorga family, in Spain, in the seventeenth century. The Marchioness of Astorga kills a beautiful girl of whom her husband is enamored, tears out her heart, and gives it to her husband in a stew. She asks him if the dish was to his taste, and he says, Yes. No wonder, says the wife, for it was the heart of the mistress whom you loved so much; and then produces the gory head. (Mémoires de la Cour d’Espagne, La Haye, 1691, I, 108.)

Going back to the twelfth century, we come, even at that early date, upon one of those extravagances, not to say travesties, which are apt to follow successful strokes of invention. Ignaure loves and is loved by twelve dames. The husbands serve his heart to their twelve wives, who, when they are apprised of what has passed, duly vow that they will never eat again after the precious mess which they have enjoyed. (Lai d’Ignaurès, ed. Monmerqué et Michel.) There are relics of a similar story in Provençal and in German, and a burlesque tale to the same effect was popular in Italy: Le Cento Novelle Antiche, of about 1300, Biagi, Le Novelle Antiche, 1880, p. 38, No 29.[39]

A kitchen-boy plays a part of some consequence in several other ballads. A kitchen-boy is the hero of No 252, IV, 400, a very poor ballad, to be sure. There is a bad tell-tale of a kitchen-boy in ‘Lady Maisry,’ =A=, No 65, II, 114, and there is a high-minded kitchen-boy in ‘The Lady Isabella’s Tragedy.’[40] ‘A ballett, The Kitchen-boyes Songe’ (whatever this may be), is entered as licensed to John Alde in the Stationers’ Registers, 1570-71, Arber, I, 438. In about half of the versions of ‘Der grausame Bruder’ (see II, 101 f.), the king of England presents himself as a küchenjung to the brother of a lady whom he asks in marriage after a clandestine intimacy.

* * * * *

=A= is translated by Knortz, Schottische Balladen, p. 22, No 9.

A

Aytoun’s Ballads of Scotland, II, 173, 1859, from the recollection of a lady residing at Kirkaldy.

1
There was a king, and a very great king,
And a king of meikle fame;
He had not a child in the world but ane,
Lady Daisy was her name.

2
He had a very bonnie kitchen-boy,
And William was his name;
He never lay out o Lady Daisy’s bower,
Till he brought her body to shame.

3
When een-birds sung, and een-bells rung,
And a’ men were boune to rest,
The king went on to Lady Daisy’s bower,
Just like a wandering ghaist.

4
He has drawn the curtains round and round,
And there he has sat him down;
‘To whom is this, Lady Daisy,’ he says,
‘That now you gae so round?

5
‘Is it to a laird? or is it to a lord?
Or a baron of high degree?
Or is it William, my bonnie kitchen-boy?
Tell now the truth to me.’

6
‘It’s no to a laird, and it’s no to a lord,
Nor a baron of high degree;
But it’s to William, your bonnie kitchen-boy:
What cause hae I to lee?’

7
‘O where is all my merry, merry men,
That I pay meat and fee,
That they will not take out this kitchen-boy,
And kill him presentlie?’

8
They hae taen out this bonnie kitchen-boy,
And killd him on the plain;
His hair was like the threads o gold,
His een like crystal stane;
His hair was like the threads o gold,
His teeth like ivory bane.

9
They hae taen out this bonnie boy’s heart,
Put it in a cup o gold;
‘Take that to Lady Daisy,’ he said,
‘For she’s impudent and bold;’
And she washd it with the tears that ran from her eye
Into the cup of gold.

10
‘Now fare ye weel, my father the king!
You hae taen my earthly joy;
Since he’s died for me, I’ll die for him,
My bonnie kitchen-boy.’

11
‘O where is all my merry, merry men,
That I pay meat and wage,
That they could not withold my cruel hand,
When I was mad with rage?

12
‘I think nae wonder, Lady Daisy,’ he said,
‘That he brought your body to shame;
For there never was man of woman born
Sae fair as him that is slain.’

B

From “The Old Lady’s Collection,” formerly in the possession of Sir Walter Scott, No 41.

1
Ther was a king, an a worthy king,
[An a king] of birth an fame;
He had an only dear daughter,
An Dayesie was her name.

2
Ther was a boy about the house,
Bold Roben was his name;
He would not stay out of Dayese’s bour,
Till he brought her body [to] shame.

3
When bells was rung,. .. .
An a’ man bon to rest,
The king went up to Lady Dayese’s bour,
He was an unwelcom gast.

4
‘O Lady Dayesë, dear, d[ea]r Dayisie,
What gars ye gae sae round?
We yer tua sides high an yer bellie bige,
Fra yer face the couller is gane.’

5
‘O have ye loved? or have ye lang-sought?
Or die ye goo we barn?’
‘It’s all for you, fair father,
That ye stayed so long in Spain.’

6
‘It’s aff ye take yer berry-broun goon,
An ye lay it on a ston,
An I will tell you in a very short time
If ye loued any man or no[n].’

7
It’s aff she has tane her berry-broun goon,
An laid it on a ston;
We her tua sides high, her belley turned bigg,
Fra her face the couller was gane.

8
‘O is it to lord? or is to lard?
Or till a man of mean?
Or is it to Bold Roben, the kittchen-boy?
Nou, Dayisie, dinne lea[n].’

9
‘It’s no to leard, nor [to] lord,
Nor to a man of mean,
But it’s to Bold Robien, our kittchen-boy;
Fatt neads me for to lea[n]?’

10
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
It’s the morn befor I eat or drink
His heart-blude I sall see.’

11
He’s tean Bold Robien by the hand
Lead him across the green;
His hear was leak the very threeds of goud,
His face shone leak the moon.

12
He’s tane out this bonny boy’s hear[t]
Into a cupe of gold,
Had it to Lady Dayese’s bour,
Says, No[u], Dayesë, behold!

13
‘O welcom to me my heart’s delight!
Nou welcom to me my joy!
Ye have dayed for me, an I’ll day for ye,
Tho ye be but the kittchen-boy.’

14
She has taen out the coup of gold,
Lead it belou her head,
An she wish it we the tears ran doun fra her eays,
An or midnight she was dead.

15
She has tean out the coup of gold,
Laid it belou her hear,
An she wish it we the tears ran don fra her eays,
An alass! spak never mare.

C

Sharpe’s Ballad Book, No 4, p. 12, as sung by Mary Johnston, dairy maid at Hoddam Castle.

1
There was a king, and a glorious king,
And a king of mickle fame,
And he had daughters only one,
Lady Dysmal was her name.

2
He had a boy, and a kitchen-boy,
A boy of mickle scorn,
And she lovd him lang, and she loved him aye,
Till the grass oergrew the corn.

3
When twenty weeks were gone and past,
O she began to greet!
Her petticoat grew short before,
And her stays they wadna meet.

4
It fell upon a winter’s night
The king could get nae rest;
He cam unto his daughter dear,
Just like a wandring ghaist.

5
He cam into her bed-chalmer,
And drew the curtains round:
‘What aileth thee, my daughter dear?
I fear you’ve gotten wrong.’

6
‘O if I have, despise me not,
For he is all my joy;
I will forsake baith dukes and earls,
And marry your kitchen-boy.’

7
‘Go call to me my merry men all,
By thirty and by three;
Go call to me my kitchen-boy,
We’ll murder him secretlie.’

8
There was nae din that could be heard,
And neer a word was said,
Till they got him baith fast and sure
Between twa feather-beds.

9
‘Go cut the heart out of his breast,
And put it in a cup of gold,
And present it to his Dysmal dear,
For she is baith stout and bold.’

10
They’ve cut the heart out of his breast,
And put it in a cup of gold,
And presented it to his Dysmal dear,
Who was baith stout and bold.

11
‘O come to me, my hinney, my heart,
O come to me, my joy!
O come to me, my hinney, my heart
My father’s kitchen-boy!’

12
She’s taen the cup out of their hands,
And set it at her bed-head;
She washd it wi the tears that fell from her eyes,
And next morning she was dead.

13
‘O where were ye, my merry men all,
Whom I paid meat and wage,
Ye didna hold my cruel hand
When I was in my rage?

14
‘For gone is a’ my heart’s delight,
And gone is a’ my joy;
For my dear Dysmal she is dead,
And so is my kitchen-boy.’

D

Buchan’s MSS, II, 164.

1
There was a king, and a curious king,
And a king of royal fame,
He had ae daughter, he had never mair,
Lady Diamond was her name.

2
She’s fa’en into shame, and lost her good name,
And wrought her parents ’noy;
And a’ for her layen her love so low,
On her father’s kitchen-boy.

3
One night as she lay on her bed,
Just thinking to get rest,
Up it came her old father,
Just like a wandering ghaist.

4
‘Rise up, rise up, Lady Diamond,’ he says,
‘Rise up, put on your gown;
Rise up, rise up, Lady Diamond,’ he says,
‘For I fear ye go too roun.’

5
‘Too roun I go, ye blame me no,
Ye cause me not to shame;
For better love I that bonny boy
Than all your well-bred men.’

6
The king’s calld up his wall-wight men,
That he paid meat and fee:
‘Bring here to me that bonny boy,
And we’ll smore him right quietlie.’

7
Up hae they taken that bonny boy,
Put him between twa feather-beds;
Naething was dane, _nae_thing was said,
Till that bonny boy was dead.

8
The king’s taen out a broad, broad sword,
And streakd it on a strow,
And thro and thro that bonny boy’s heart
He’s gart cauld iron go.

9
Out he has taen his poor bloody heart,
Set it on a tasse of gold,
And set it before Lady Diamond’s face,
Said, Fair lady, behold!

10
Up she has taen this poor bloody heart,
And holden it in her hand:
‘Better loved I that bonny, bonny boy
Than all my father’s land.’

11
Up she has taen his poor bloody heart
And laid it at her head;
The tears away frae her eyes did fly,
And ere midnight she was dead.

E

Joseph Robertson, “Adversaria,” p. 66; noted down from a female servant, July 15, 1829.

1
It was a king, and a verra greit king,
An a king o muckle fame,
An he had a luvelie dauchter fair,
An Dysie was her name.

2
She fell in love wi the kitchie-boy,
An a verra bonnie boy was he,
An word has gane till her father dear,
An an angry man was he.

3
‘Is it the laird? or is it the lord?
Or a man o high degree?
Or is it to Robin, the kitchie-boy?
O Dysie mak nae lee.’

4
‘It’s nae the laird, nor is it the lord,
Nor a man o high degree,
But it’s to Robin, the kitchie-boy;
What occasion hae I to lee?’

5
‘If it be to Robin, the kitchie-boy,
As I trust weel it be,
The morn, afore ye eat meal or drink,
Ye’ll see him hanged hie.’

6
They have taen Robin out,
His hair was like threads o gold;
That verra day afore it was night,
Death made young Dysie cold.

* * * * *

=B.= _Written without division into stanzas or verses._

3^2. to bed.

8^4. didde lea.

=C.= “Mary Johnston, our dairymaid at Hoddam Castle, used to sing this. It had a very pretty air, and some more verses which I have now forgot.” Sharpe’s Ballad-Book, 1880, p. 128.

=D.= _A little scotticized by Buchan in printing, and still more by Dixon._

9^2. tasse _is_ tarse _in my transcript_; _probably miscopied_.

FOOTNOTES:

[29] See a letter from Scott to C. K. Sharpe, in Mr Allardyce’s edition of Sharpe’s letters, II, 264.

[30] See Dunlop’s History of Fiction, ed. Wilson, II, 91; von der Hagen’s Gesammtabenteuer, I, CXXII f.; Clarence Sherwood, Die neu-englischen Bearbeitungen der Erzählung Boccaccios von Ghismonda und Guiscardo, Berlin, 1892; Varnhagen in Literaturblatt, December, 1892, p. 412 ff.

[31] The too late repentance and the burial of the two lovers in one grave occur, also, in Decameron, IV, 9, presently to be spoken of.

[32] There is a mixture of Decameron, IV, 1 and 9 (with arbitrary variations), in Palmerin of England (ch. 87, II, 328, of Southey’s edition of the English translation). Artibel visited the Princess Brandisia in a tower, ascending by a rope. One night he was taken. He was shut up till the princess was delivered of a child (cf. the Scottish ballad). Then the father took Artibel’s heart and sent it to Brandisia in a cup. She filled the cup with her tears, and sent the cup of tears to her father, reserving the heart, dressed herself in her bravest apparel, and cast herself headlong from the tower.

[33] This is a Dutch ballad of Brennenberg without the extraction of the heart, MS. of the end of the fifteenth century. (Sts 1, 2 resemble, =A= 3, 4.) A fair lady offers Brunenburch a rose garland; a knight observes this, goes to his master, and tells him, Brunenburch has been sleeping with your wife. Brunenburch is imprisoned in a tower, and after a time sent to the gallows. The lady rides to the gallows. She has seven bold brothers, who will avenge his death. Brunenburch affirms and reaffirms his innocence. The lady vows never to braid her hair, etc. (Cf. II, 156 f.) Frydenborg is hanged in Danish =A d=, =n=, =E b=, and his heart then taken out.

[34] In =A= 3, 4, which (as also =A= 1 and =B= 1) are in the first person, a fair maid offers the singer a rose garland. This warrants no inference of community with the Scandinavian ballad. The passage probably does not belong in the ballad. Compare the beginning of Hoffmann, No 6, and a song of John I of Brabant, Willems, p. 13, No 5.

[35] ‘Recht so einem wildenschwin,’ =A= 8, brings to mind ‘quel cuor di cinghiare,’ in Decameron, IV, 9, but, considering the ‘recht wo einen visch’ of =A= 7, may be judged an accidental correspondence.

[36] It is to be noted that the father reproaches himself for ‘betraying’ his only child in the Swedish ballad, and in Danish =A= 1, =F a=, =c=, =d=.

[37] A meisterlied, of about 1500 (Böhme), noted by Goedeke, Grundriss, § 139, No 7 c, has not been reprinted.

[38] Sermones Parati, No 124, ninth Sunday after Trinity: cited by M. Gaston Paris, Histoire Littéraire de la France, XXVIII, 382 f.

[39] The older literature is noted, with his usual fulness, by von der Hagen, Gesammtabenteuer, I, CXVI-XXI. See, also, Dunlop’s History of Fiction, ed. Wilson, II, 95 f. M. Gaston Paris has critically reviewed the whole matter, with an account of modern French imitations of the romance of the Châtelain de Couci, in Histoire Littéraire de la France, XXVIII, 352-90. See, also, his article in Romania, XII, 359 ff.

[40] See Percy’s Reliques, 1765, III, 154, and Ebsworth, Roxburghe Ballads, VI, 650. It is in many of the collections of black-letter broadsides besides the Roxburghe, as Pepys, Wood, Crawford, etc. Though perhaps absolutely the silliest ballad that ever was made, and very far from silly sooth, the broadside was traditionally propagated in Scotland without so much change as is usual in such cases: ‘There livd a knight in Jesuitmont.’ Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy, No 22 e, Abbotsford, in the handwriting of William Laidlaw, derived from Jean Scott; ‘The Knight in Jesuite,’ Campbell MSS, II, 63; ‘There was a knight in Jessamay,’ Motherwell’s MS. p. 399, from Agnes Laird, of Kilbarchan. Percy’s ballad is translated by Bodmer, I, 167, and by Döring, p. 91. The tragedy is said to be localized at Radcliffe, Lancashire: Harland, Ballads and Songs of Lancashire, ed. 1879, p. 46, Roby’s Traditions of Lancashire, 1879, I, 107, both citing Dr Whitaker’s History of Whalley.

270

THE EARL OF MAR’S DAUGHTER

‘The Earl of Mar’s Daughter,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 49; Motherwell’s MS. p. 565.

The Earl of Mar’s daughter spies a dove on a tower, and promises him a golden cage if he will come to her. The dove lights on her head, and she takes him into her bower. When night comes, she sees a youth standing by her side. The youth explains that his mother, a queen versed in magic, had transformed him into a dove that he might charm maids. He is a dove by day, a man at night, and will live and die with her. In the course of seven years seven sons are born, all of whom are successively committed to the care of the queen their grandmother. After the twenty-third year a lord comes to court the lady. She refuses him: she will live alone with her bird. Her father swears that he will kill this bird, and Cow-me-doo prudently takes refuge with his mother, who welcomes home her ‘young son Florentine,’ and calls for dancers and minstrels. Cow-me-doo Florentine will have none of that; the situation is too serious. The morrow the mother of his seven sons is to be wedded; instead of merry-making, he desires to have twenty stout men turned into storks, his seven sons into swans, and himself into a goshawk. This feat is beyond his mother’s (quite limited) magic, but it is done by an old woman who has more skill. The birds fly to Earl Mar’s castle, where the wedding is going on. The storks seize some of the noble guests, the swans bind the bride’s best man to a tree, and in a twinkling the bride and her maidens are carried off by the birds. The Earl of Mar reconciles himself with his daughter.

There is a Scandinavian ballad which Grundtvig has treated as identical with this, but the two have little in common beyond the assumption of the bird-shape by the lover. They are, perhaps, on a par for barrenness and folly, but the former may claim some age and vogue, the Scottish ballad neither.

=Danish.= ‘Ridderen i Fugleham,’ Grundtvig, II, 226, No 68, =A-C= (=C= is translated by Prior, III, 206); ‘Herr Jon som Fugl,’ Kristensen, I, 161, No 59, X, 23, No 11, =A=, =B=. In Grundtvig’s =A= (MS. of the sixteenth century), the son of the king of England wooes a maid, sending her rich presents. Her mother says he shall never have her daughter, and this message his envoys take back to him. He is angry, and has a bird’s coat forged for him out of nine gold rings (but his behavior thereafter is altogether birdlike). He sits on the ridgepole of the maid’s bower and sings. The maid exclaims, Christ grant thou wert mine! thou shouldst drink naught but wine, and sleep in my arms. I would send thee to England, as a gift to my love. She sits down on the ground; the bird flies into her bosom. She takes the bird into her bower; he throws off his bird-coat, and is recognized. The maid begs him to do her no shame. ‘Not if you will go to England with me,’ he answers, takes her up, and wings his way thither. There he marries her, and gives her a crown and a queen’s name.

In Grundtvig =B=, the bird is a falcon. The maid will have no man that cannot fly. Master Hillebrand, son of the king of England, learns this fact, and has a bird’s coat made for him, enters the room where man had never been before, sleeps under white linen, and in the morning is a knight so braw. (Here the story ends.)

In =C=, the maid will have no man that cannot fly, and Master Hillebrand orders a bird’s coat to be made for him (what could be more mechanical!), flies into the maid’s bower, and passes the night on the pole on which she hangs her clothes. In the morning he begins to sing, flies to the bed, and plays with the maid’s hair. If you could shed your feathers, says the maid, I would have no other man. Keep your word, says the bird; give me your hand, and take my claw. She passes her word; he throws off his feathers, and stands before her a handsome man. By day, says the maid, he is to fly with the birds, by night to sleep in her bed. He perches so long on the clothes-pole that Ingerlille has a girl and a boy. When her father asks who is their father, she tells him the positive truth; she found them in a wood. When the bird comes back at night, she says that he must speak to her father; further concealment is impossible. Master Hillebrand asks the father to give him his daughter. The father is surprised that he should want a maid that has been beguiled; but if he will marry her she shall have a large dowry. The knight wants nothing but her.

Kristensen’s copies do not differ materially. 11 =A= in his tenth volume (a very brief ballad) drops or lacks the manufacture of the bird-coat. Grundtvig’s =D-G= drop the bird quite.

The ballad occurs in Swedish, but in the form of a mere abstract; in Arwidsson, II, 188, No 112, MS. of the sixteenth century. A maid will have no man but one that can fly. A swain has wings made from five gold rings; he flies over the rose-wood, over the sea, sits on a lily-spray and sings, flies till he sleeps in the maid’s bosom.

A Färöe copy is noted by Grundtvig as in the possession of Hammershaimb, resembling his =B=, but about twice as long.

The lover in bird-shape is a very familiar trait in fiction, particularly in popular tales.

In Marie de France’s Lai d’Yonec, a lover comes in at his mistress’s window in the form of a hawk; in ‘Der Jungherr und der treue Heinrich,’ von der Hagen, Gesammtabenteuer, No 64, III, 197, MS. of 1444, as a bird (by virtue of a stone of which he has possessed himself).[41] In Hahn, No 102, II, 130 (Albanian), a dove flies in at a princess’s window, and is changed to man’s shape by dipping in a dish of milk; Hahn, No 7, I, 97==Pio, No 5, dove (through a hole in the ceiling, dips in a basin of water); Δελτίον τῆς ἱστορικῆς καὶ ἐθνολογικῆς ἑταιρίας τῆς Ἑλλάδος, I, 337, golden eagle (through a window, in rose water); Schneller, No 21, p. 49, dove (dips in a basin of water); Coelho, Contos pop. portuguezes, No 27, p. 65, bird (dips in a basin of water); Braga, Contos tradicionães, No 31, I, 68, bird (dips in a basin of water); Pitrè, Fiabe, etc., No 18, I, 163, green bird (pan of milk, then pan of water); Bernoni, Fiabe, No 17, p. 87 (milk and water, milk, rose-water); Visentini, No 17, p. 95, dove; Gonzenbach, No 27, I, 167, green bird (through a hole in the wall); Nicolovius, p. 34, Asbjørnsen, Norske Folkeeventyr, Ny Samling, 1871, No 10, p. 35==Juletræet, 1851, p. 52, falcon; Grundtvig, Danske Folkeæventyr, No 14, p. 167, Madsen, Folkeminder, p. 19 (‘The Green Knight’), bird; Berntsen, Folke-Æventyr, No 13, II, 86, bird; Comtesse d’Aulnoy, L’Oiseau bleu,’ Cabinet des Fées, II, 67, king turned into bird for seven years.[42]

* * * * *

Translated by Gerhard, p. 44; Knortz, Lieder u. Romanzen Alt-Englands, p. 207, No 62.

* * * * *

1
It was intill a pleasant time,
Upon a simmer’s day,
The noble Earl of Mar’s daughter
Went forth to sport and play.

2
As thus she did amuse hersell,
Below a green aik tree,
There she saw a sprightly doo
Set on a tower sae hie.

3
‘O Cow-me-doo, my love sae true,
If ye’ll come down to me,
Ye’se hae a cage o guid red gowd
Instead o simple tree:

4
‘I’ll put gowd hingers roun your cage,
And siller roun your wa;
I’ll gar ye shine as fair a bird
As ony o them a’.’

5
But she hadnae these words well spoke,
Nor yet these words well said,
Till Cow-me-doo flew frae the tower
And lighted on her head.

6
Then she has brought this pretty bird
Hame to her bowers and ha,
And made him shine as fair a bird
As ony o them a’.

7
When day was gane, and night was come,
About the evening tide,
This lady spied a sprightly youth
Stand straight up by her side.

8
‘From whence came ye, young man?’ she said;
‘That does surprise me sair;
My door was bolted right secure,
What way hae ye come here?’

9
‘O had your tongue, ye lady fair,
Lat a’ your folly be;
Mind ye not on your turtle-doo
Last day ye brought wi thee?’

10
‘O tell me mair, young man,’ she said,
‘This does surprise me now;
What country hae ye come frae?
What pedigree are you?’

11
‘My mither lives on foreign isles,
She has nae mair but me;
She is a queen o wealth and state,
And birth and high degree.

12
‘Likewise well skilld in magic spells,
As ye may plainly see,
And she transformd me to yon shape,
To charm such maids as thee.

13
‘I am a doo the live-lang day,
A sprightly youth at night;
This aye gars me appear mair fair
In a fair maiden’s sight.

14
‘And it was but this verra day
That I came ower the sea;
Your lovely face did me enchant;
I’ll live and dee wi thee.’

15
‘O Cow-me-doo, my luve sae true,
Nae mair frae me ye’se gae;’
‘That’s never my intent, my luve,
As ye said, it shall be sae.’

16
‘O Cow-me-doo, my luve sae true,
It’s time to gae to bed;’
‘Wi a’ my heart, my dear marrow,
It’s be as ye hae said.’

17
Then he has staid in bower wi her
For sax lang years and ane,
Till sax young sons to him she bare,
And the seventh she’s brought hame.

18
But aye as ever a child was born
He carried them away,
And brought them to his mither’s care,
As fast as he coud fly.

19
Thus he has staid in bower wi her
For twenty years and three;
There came a lord o high renown
To court this fair ladie.

20
But still his proffer she refused,
And a’ his presents too;
Says, I’m content to live alane
Wi my bird, Cow-me-doo.

21
Her father sware a solemn oath
Amang the nobles all,
‘The morn, or ere I eat or drink,
This bird I will gar kill.’

22
The bird was sitting in his cage,
And heard what they did say;
And when he found they were dismist,
Says, Wae’s me for this day!

23
‘Before that I do langer stay,
And thus to be forlorn,
I’ll gang unto my mither’s bower,
Where I was bred and born.’

24
Then Cow-me-doo took flight and flew
Beyond the raging sea,
And lighted near his mither’s castle,
On a tower o gowd sae hie.

25
As his mither was wauking out,
To see what she coud see,
And there she saw her little son,
Set on the tower sae hie.

26
‘Get dancers here to dance,’ she said,
‘And minstrells for to play;
For here’s my young son, Florentine,
Come here wi me to stay.’

27
‘Get nae dancers to dance, mither,
Nor minstrells for to play,
For the mither o my seven sons,
The morn’s her wedding-day.’

28
‘O tell me, tell me, Florentine,
Tell me, and tell me true,
Tell me this day without a flaw,
What I will do for you.’

29
‘Instead of dancers to dance, mither,
Or minstrells for to play,
Turn four-and-twenty wall-wight men
Like storks in feathers gray;

30
‘My seven sons in seven swans,
Aboon their heads to flee;
And I mysell a gay gos-hawk,
A bird o high degree.’

31
Then sichin said the queen hersell,
‘That thing’s too high for me;’
But she applied to an auld woman,
Who had mair skill than she.

32
Instead o dancers to dance a dance,
Or minstrells for to play,
Four-and-twenty wall-wight men
Turnd birds o feathers gray;

33
Her seven sons in seven swans,
Aboon their heads to flee;
And he himsell a gay gos-hawk,
A bird o high degree.

34
This flock o birds took flight and flew
Beyond the raging sea,
And landed near the Earl Mar’s castle,
Took shelter in every tree.

35
They were a flock o pretty birds,
Right comely to be seen;
The people viewd them wi surprise,
As they dancd on the green.

36
These birds ascended frae the tree
And lighted on the ha,
And at the last wi force did flee
Amang the nobles a’.

37
The storks there seized some o the men,
They coud neither fight nor flee;
The swans they bound the bride’s best man
Below a green aik tree.

38
They lighted next on maidens fair,
Then on the bride’s own head,
And wi the twinkling o an ee
The bride and them were fled.

39
There’s ancient men at weddings been
For sixty years or more,
But sic a curious wedding-day
They never saw before.

40
For naething coud the companie do,
Nor naething coud they say
But they saw a flock o pretty birds
That took their bride away.

41
When that Earl Mar he came to know
Where his dochter did stay,
He signd a bond o unity,
And visits now they pay.

FOOTNOTES:

[41] The ‘Vogelritter’ mentioned by Prior, III, 207, is this same story. See Mone, Uebersicht der niederländischen Volksliteratur, p. 90, No 59.

[42] Most of the above are cited by R. Köhler, notes in Warnke’s ed. of Marie’s Lais, p. LXXXVIII f. For the dipping in water, etc., see Tam Lin, I, 338.

271

THE LORD OF LORN AND THE FALSE STEWARD

=A.= ‘Lord of Learne,’ Percy MS., p. 73; Hales and Furnivall, I, 180.