104 PRINCE HEATHEN

1 Now word is gane thro a' the land,
Gude seal that it sae spread!
To Rose the Red and White Lillie,
Their mither dear was dead.

2 Their father's married a bauld woman,
And brought her ower the sea,
Twa sprightly youths, her ain young sons,
Intill her companie.

3 They fixd their eyes on those ladies,
On shipboard as they stood,
And sware, if ever they wan to land,
These ladies they woud wed.

4 But there was nae a quarter past,
A quarter past but three,
Till these young luvers a' were fond
O other's companie.

5 The knights they harped i their bower,
The ladies sewd and sang;
There was mair mirth in that chamer
Than a' their father's lan.

6 Then out it spak their step-mither,
At the stair-foot stood she:
I'm plagued wi your troublesome noise!
What makes your melodie?

7 O Rose the Red, ye sing too loud,
White Lillie, your voice is strang;
But gin I live and brook my life,
I'se gar you change your sang.

8 'We maunna change our loud, loud song
For nae duke's son ye'll bear;
We winna change our loud, loud song,
But aye we'll sing the mair.

9 'We never sung the sang, mither,
But we'll sing ower again;
We'll take our harps into our hands,
And we'll harp, and we'll sing.'

10 She's calld upon her twa young sons,
Says, Boun ye for the sea;
Let Rose the Red and White Lillie
Stay in their bower wi me.

11 'O God forbid,' said her eldest son,
'Nor lat it ever be,
Unless ye were as kind to our luves
As gin we were them wi.'

12 'Yet never the less, my pretty sons,
Ye'll boun you for the faem;
Let Rose the Red and White Lillie
Stay in their bowers at hame.'

13 'O when wi you we came alang,
We felt the stormy sea,
And where we go, ye neer shall know,
Nor shall be known by thee.'

14 Then wi her harsh and boisterous word
She forc'd these lads away,
While Rose the Red and White Lillie
Still in their bowers did stay.

15 But there was not a quarter past,
A quarter past but ane,
Till Rose the Red in rags she gaed,
White Lillie's claithing grew thin.

16 Wi bitter usage every day,
The ladies they thought lang;
'Ohon, alas!' said Rose the Red,
'She's gard us change our sang.

17 'But we will change our own fu names,
And we'll gang frae the town,
Frae Rose the Red and White Lillie
To Nicholas and Roger Brown.

18 'And we will cut our green claithing
A little aboon our knee,
And we will on to gude greenwood,
Twa bauld bowmen to be.'

19 'Ohon, alas!' said White Lillie,
'My fingers are but sma,
And tho my hands woud wield the bow,
They winna yield at a'.'

20 'O had your tongue now, White Lillie,
And lat these fears a' be;
There's naething that ye're awkward in
But I will learn thee.'

21 Then they are on to gude greenwood,
As fast as gang coud they;
O then they spied him Robin Hood,
Below a green aik tree.

22 'Gude day, gude day, kind sir,' they said,
'God make you safe and free:'
'Gude day, gude day,' said Robin Hood,
'What is your wills wi me?'

23 'Lo here we are, twa banishd knights,
Come frae our native hame;
We're come to crave o thee service,
Our king will gie us nane.'

24 'If ye be twa young banishd knights,
Tell me frae what countrie:'
'Frae Anster town into Fifeshire;
Ye know it as well as we.'

25 'If a' be true that ye hae said,
And tauld just now to me,
Ye're welcome, welcome, every one;
Your master I will be.

26 'Now ye shall eat as I do eat,
And lye as I do lye;
Ye salna wear nae waur claithing
Nor my young men and I.'

27 Then they went to a ruinous house,
And there they enterd in,
And Nicholas fed wi Robin Hood,
And Roger wi Little John.

28 But it fell ance upon a day
They were at the putting-stane,
Whan Rose the Red she viewd them a',
As they stood on the green.

29 She hit the stane then wi her foot,
And kepd it wi her knee,
And spaces three aboon them a'
I wyte she gard it flee.

30 She sat her back then to a tree,
And gae a loud Ohon!
A lad spak in the companie,
I hear a woman's moan.

31 'How know you that, young man?' she said,
'How know you that o me?
Did eer ye see me in that place
Ae foot my ground to flee?

32 'Or know ye by my cherry cheeks?
Or by my yellow hair?
Or by the paps on my breast-bane?
Ye never saw them bare.'

33 'I know not by your cherry cheeks,
Nor by your yellow hair;
But I know by your milk-white chin,
On it there grows nae hair.

34 'I never saw you in that cause
Ae foot your ground to flee;
I've seen you stan wi sword in han
Mang men's blood to the knee.

35 'But if I come your bower within,
By night, or yet by day,
I shall know before I go
If ye be man or may.'

36 'O if you come my bower within,
By night, or yet by day,
As soon's I draw my trusty brand,
Nae lang ye'll wi me stay.'

37 But he is haunted to her bower,
Her bigly bower o stane,
Till he has got her big wi bairn,
And near sax months she's gane.

38 Whan three mair months were come and gane,
They gaed to hunt the hynde;
She wont to be the foremost ane,
But now stayd far behynd.

39 Her luver looks her in the face,
And thus to her said he;
I think your cheeks are pale and wan;
Pray, what gaes warst wi thee?

40 O want ye roses to your breast?
Or ribbons to your sheen?
Or want ye as muckle o dear bought luve
As your heart can conteen?

41 'I want nae roses to my breast,
Nae ribbons to my sheen;
Nor want I as muckle dear bought luve
As my heart can conteen.

42 'I'd rather hae a fire behynd,
Anither me before,
A gude midwife at my right side,
Till my young babe be bore.'

43 'I'll kindle a fire wi a flint-stane,
Bring wine in a green horn;
I'll be midwife at your right side,
Till your young babe be born.'

44 'That was neer my mither's custom,
Forbid that it be mine!
A knight stan by a lady bright
Whan she drees a' her pine.

45 'There is a knight in gude greenwood,
If that he kent o me,
Thro stock and stane and the hawthorn
Sae soon's he woud come me tee.'

46 'If there be a knight in gude greenwood
Ye like better than me,
If ance he come your bower within,
Ane o us twa shall dee.'

47 She set a horn to her mouth,
And she blew loud and shrill;
Thro stock and stane and the hawthorn
Brave Roger came her till.

48 'Wha's here sae bauld,' the youth replied,
'Thus to encroach on me?'
'O here I am,' the knight replied,
'Hae as much right as thee.'

49 Then they fought up the gude greenwood,
Sae did they down the plain;
They niddart ither wi lang braid-swords,
Till they were bleedy men.

50 Then out it spak the sick woman,
Sat under the greenwood tree;
O had your han, young man, she said,
She's a woman as well as me.

51 Then out it speaks anither youth,
Amang the companie;
Gin I had kent what I ken now,
'T is for her I woud dee.

52 'O wae mat worth you, Rose the Red,
An ill death mat ye dee!
Altho ye tauld upo yoursell,
Ye might hae heald on me.'

53 'O for her sake I was content
For to gae ower the sea;
For her I left my mither's ha,
Tho she proves fause to me.'

54 But whan these luvers were made known,
They sung right joyfullie,
Nae blyther was the nightingale,
Nor bird that sat on tree.

55 Now they hae married these ladies,
Brought them to bower and ha;
And now a happy life they lead;
I wish sae may we a'.

1 The king has wedded an ill woman,
Into some foreign land;
His daughters twa, that stood in awe,
They bravely sat and sang.

2 Then in became their step-mother,
Sae stately steppin ben:
'O gin I live and bruik my life,
I'll gar ye change your tune.'

3 'O we sang neer that sang, ladie,
But we will sing again;
And ye neer boor that son, ladie,
We wad lay our love on.

4 'But we will cow our yellow locks
A little abune our bree,
And we will on to gude greenwud,
And serve for meat and fee.

5 'And we will kilt our gay claithing
A little below the knee,
And we will on to gude greenwud,
Gif Robin Hood we see.

6 'And we will change our ain twa names,
When we gae frae the toun;
The tane we will call Nicholas,
The tither Rogee Roun.'

7 Then they hae cowd their yellow locks
A little abune their bree,
And they are on to gude greenwud,
To serve for meat and fee.

8 And they hae kilt their gay claithing
A little below their knee,
And they are on to gud greenwud,
Gif Robin Hood they see.

9 And they hae chang'd thair ain twa names,
Whan they gaed frae the toun;
The tane they've called Nicholas,
The tither Rogee Roun.

10 And they hae staid in gude greenwud,
And never a day thoucht lang,
Till it fell ance upon a day
That Rogee sang a sang.

11 'Whan we were in our father's bouer,
We sewd the silken seam;
But now we walk the gude greenwud,
And bear anither name.

12 'When we were in our father's ha,
We wore the beaten gold;
But now we wear the shield sae sharp;
Alas, we'll die with cold!'

13 Then up bespak him Robin Hood,
As he to them drew near:
'Instead of boys to carry the bow,
Two ladies we've got here'

14 So they had not been in gud greenwud
A twalmonth and a day,
Till Rogee Roun was as big wi bairn
As onie lady could gae.

15 'O wae be to my stepmother,
That garrd me leave my hame!
For I'm wi bairn to Robin Hood,
And near nine month is gane.

16 'O wha will be my bouer-woman?
Na bouer-woman is here;
O wha will be my bouer-woman,
Whan that sad time draws near?'

17 Then up bespak him Robin Hood,
At the foot o yon greenwud tree:
O hold your tongue, fair Rogee Roun,
For married ye sall be.

18 The tane was wedded to Robin Hood,
And the tither to Little John;
And it was a' owing to their stepmother,
That garrd them leave their hame.

Sae Bauld Arthur's gane to our king's court,
His hie chamberlain to be;
But Brown Robin he has slain a knight,
And to grene wood he did flee.

And left hae they that bonny bour,
To cross the raging sea.

And that all for the knightly vow
I swore to Our Ladye,
But mair, etc.

104
PRINCE HEATHEN

The fragment A (pointed out to me by Svend Grundtvig) is partly explained by B, which is no doubt some stall-copy, reshaped from tradition. Motherwell's copy was derived from Buchan.

The story, which reads like an old one extremely corrupted, is none too intelligible even in the longer form. Lady Margery is sitting in her bower-door. Prince Heathen comes by and gives her a ring. She refuses him her love. He swears that he will make her greet; she swears that he shall not. He takes her maidenhead: still she will not greet. He tells her that he has killed her father, mother, and seven brothers: still she will not greet. He puts her in a vault of stone, fastened with five and thirty locks: she will not greet [go, A], but rues. He comes back from the mountains, and asks her how she is faring. Dying, she says. He takes her out upon the green, allowing her no female service, and she brings forth a son. How is it with her now? Dying. She asks for a drink of water: he will not give her a drop until she wraps up her young son. She has nothing to wrap the babe in; he gives her his horse-sheet; her tears fall fast. "Bonny may, now you greet!" he exclaims ["will you go now?" A]. But she greets not for him; it is for her young son, wrapped so roughly. Prince Heathen, satisfied, as far as we can see, now that he has subdued her proud will, orders his son to be rolled in silk and washed in milk, according to the usage of Scottish nursery: see No 5, B 61, C 82, 83, E 32, F 57, G 33; No 20, C 8; No 63, B 35, C 35, F 22, J 47; No 101, A 25. Having broken her spirit, he loves her well.

1 Lady Margery May sits in her bower,
Sewing at her seem;
By there comes a heathen knight,
From her her maidenhead has tane.

2 He has put her in a tower strong,
With double locks on fifty doors:
'Lady Margery May, will you ga now?'
'O ye heathen knight, not yet for you.

3 'I am asking, you heathen knight;
What I am asking will you grant to me?
Will ye let one of your waitmen
A drink of your well bring to me?'

4 'Meat nor drink you shall never get,
Nor out of that shall you never come,
Meat nor drink shall you never get,
Until you bear to me daughter or son.'

5 Thus time drew on, and further on,
For travail came this young lady to;
She travailed up, so did she down,
But lighter could she never be.

6 'An asking, an asking, you heathen knight;
An asking will you grant to me?
Will you give me a scread of silk,
For to row your young son wi?'

7 He took the horse-sheet in his hand,
The tears came twinkling down:
'Lady Margaret May, will ye ga now?'
'O ye heathen knight, not yet for you.'

8 'I'll wash my young son with the milk,
I will dry my young son with the silk;
For hearts will break, and bands will bow;
So dear will I love my lady now!'

1 Lady Margaret sat in her bower-door,
Sewing at her silken seem,
When by it came Prince Heathen then,
An gae to her a gay gold ring.

2 He turnd about, an gied a bow;
She said, Begone, I love na you;
When he sware by his yellow hair
That he woud gar her greet fu sair.

3 But she sware by her milk-white skin
Prince Heathen shoud gar her greet nane:
'O bonny may, winna ye greet now?'
'Ye heathenish dog, nae yet for you.'

4 He's taen her in his arms twa,
Laid her between him an the wa,
An ere he let her free again,
Her maidenhead frae her he's taen.
'O bonny may, winna ye greet now?'
'Ye heathenish dog, nae yet for you.'

5 'I killd your father in his bed,
And your gay mother by his side,
And your seven brothers, ane by ane,
And they were seven pretty men.
O bonny may, winna ye greet now?'
'Ye heathenish dog, nae yet for you.'

6 'I'll put you in a vault o stone,
Where five an thirty locks hing on;
Naebody there then shall you see,
For I will keep the keys wi me.
O bonny may, winna ye greet now?'
'Ye heathenish dog, nae yet for you.'

7 He's put her in a vault o stone,
Where five an thirty locks hing on;
Naebody there coud eer her see,
Prince Heathen kept the keys him wi.
But ae she cried, What shall I do!
The heathenish dog has gart me rue.

8 Prince Heathen from the mountains came,
Attended by his armed men,
And he's gane to the bonny may,
And to the prison where she lay:
'O bonny may, what do you now?'
'Ye heathenish dog, dying for you.'

9 'I'll take you out upon the green,
Where women ye shall neer see ane,
But only me and my young men,
Till ye bring daughter hame or son.
O bonny may, what do you now?'
'Ye heathenish dog, dying for you.'

10 He's taen her out upon the green,
Where she saw women never ane,
But only him and 's merry young men,
Till she brought hame a bonny young son.
'O bonny may, what do you now?'
'Ye heathenish dog, dying for you.

11 'A drink, a drink, frae Prince Heathen's hand,
Though it were frae yon cauld well strong!'
'O neer a drap, Prince Heathen,' said one,
'Till ye row up your bonny young son.'
'How can I row up my bonny young son,
When I hae naething to row him in?'

12 'I will lend you my horse's sheet,
That will row him baith head and feet.'
As soon's she took it in her han,
Tears oer her cheeks down rapping ran.
'O bonny may, ye do greet now:'
'Ye heathenish dog, but nae for you.

13 'But a' is for my bonny young son;
Your sheets are rough to row him in;
Ohon, alas, sair may I rue
That eer I saw such rogues as you!'

14 'Ye'll row my young son in the silk,
An ye will wash him wi the milk,
An lay my lady very saft,
That I may see her very aft.'
When hearts are broken, bands will bow;
Sae well's he loved his lady now!

105
THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON

Reprinted in Percy's Reliques, III, 133, 1765, from the Pepys copy, c, but "with some improvements, communicated by a lady as she heard the same repeated in her youth;" that is, in fact, a few casual verbal variations, attributable to imperfect recollection of a broadside. There are much better in a copy which I have received from an Irish lady, partly made over by secondary tradition. Reprinted also by Ritson, A Select Collection of English Songs, II, 234, 1783, apparently from a, with an arbitrary change in st. 8², and one or two other variations. Mr F. H. Stoddard informs me that 'The Bailiff's Daughter' is still very much sung, and may be heard any day at a country cricket-match.

A fond youth and a coy maid, a bailiff's daughter, having been parted seven years, the maid disguises herself to go in quest of her lover, and meets him on her way. He asks her whether she knows the bailiff's daughter. The bailiff's daughter is dead long ago, she replies. Then he will go into a far country. The maid, assured of his faith, reveals herself, and is ready to be his bride.

This is the counterpart of a ballad found in other languages (and represented in English by Percy's cento 'The Friar of Orders Gray,' Reliques, I, 225, 1765), in which a man tells a woman that the object of her affection, lover, or more commonly husband, is dead. So runs the story in the following:

Italian. Marcoaldi, Canti popolari umbri, etc., p. 151, 'La prova d'amore,' Piedmontese; Gianandrea, C. p. marchigiani, p. 270, No 7, 'La prova d'amore;' Ferraro, C. p. monferrini, p. 60, No 41, 'Il ritorno,' and C. p. di Ferrara, Cento e Pontelagoscuro, p. 16, No 4, p. 105, No 18; Bernoni, C. p. veneziani, Punt. IX, No 1, 'Il ritorno dalla guerra;' Wolf, Volkslieder aus Venetien, No 91, 'La ragazza ed i soldati;' Bolza, Canzoni p. comasche, No 53, 'Il riconoscimento;' Finamore, Storie p. abruzzesi, Archivio, I, 91, No 6, 'Rusine e Ddiamóre;' Kestner, in Reifferscheid, Westfälische V. 1., p. 156, Roman.

Spanish. 'Caballero de lejas tierras,' Juan de Ribera, Nueve Romances, 1605, in Duran, I, 175, No 318, Wolf y Hofmann, Primavera, II, 88, No 156, and a traditional version in a note of Duran, as above, repeated in Primavera. Catalan. 'La vuelta del peregrino,' Milá, Observaciones, p. 111, No 12, 'El peregrino,' Romancerillo, p. 154, No 203; 'La tornada del pelegrí,' Briz, V, 65.

Portuguese. 'Bella Infanta,' Almeida-Garrett, II, 7; Bellermann, p. 100, No 12; Braga, C. p. do Archipelago açoriano, p. 298, No 41, Romanceiro Geral, p. 1, 'Dona Infanta,' p. 4, 'Dona Catherina;' Coelho, in Zeitschrift für romanische Philologie, III, 63, 1879 (imperfect).

Romaic. 'Ἡ αναγνωρισις,' Zambelios, p. 718, No 5, Kind, Anthologie, 1861, p. 126, No 5, Passow, No 442: 'Ἡ πιστη συζυγος,' Evlambios, p. 58, Marcellus, I, 332, Passow, No 444; Tommaseo, III, 148, Passow, No 445, and III, 150, Passow, No 446; Schmidt, Griechische M., S., u. V. 1., p. 192, No 57 (see note, p. 272); Marcellus, I, 328, Passow, No 441; 'Αναγνωρισμος,' Chasiotis, p. 89, No 28; Aravandinos, Nos 347-349, pp. 209-211; 'Το γυρισμα,' Oikonomides, p. 132; Jeannaraki, p. 237, No 300, with perverted conclusion; Fauriel, II, 396, Passow, No 447 (fragment). Aravandinos, No 348, is translated by Miss Garnett, Greek Folk Songs, p. 163.

Translated by Bodmer, I, 82; Döring, p. 85; Arndt, p. 193; Von Marées, p. 45; Knortz, Lieder u. Romanzen Alt-Englands, No 64.

1 There was a youth, and a well belovd youth,
And he was a esquire's son,
He loved the bayliff's daughter dear,
That lived in Islington.

2 She was coy, and she would not believe
That he did love her so,
No, nor at any time she would
Any countenance to him show.

3 But when his friends did understand
His fond and foolish mind,
They sent him up to fair London,
An apprentice for to bind.

4 And when he had been seven long years,
And his love he had not seen,
'Many a tear have I shed for her sake
When she little thought of me.'

5 All the maids of Islington
Went forth to sport and play;
All but the bayliff's daughter dear;
She secretly stole away.

6 She put off her gown of gray,
And put on her puggish attire;
She's up to fair London gone,
Her true-love to require.

7 As she went along the road,
The weather being hot and dry,
There was she aware of her true-love,
At length came riding by.

8 She stept to him, as red as any rose,
And took him by the bridle-ring:
'I pray you, kind sir, give me one penny,
To ease my weary limb.'

9 'I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell me
Where that thou wast born?'
'At Islington, kind sir,' said she,
'Where I have had many a scorn.'

10 'I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell me
Whether thou dost know
The bailiff's daughter of Islington?'
'She's dead, sir, long ago.'

11 'Then will I sell my goodly steed,
My saddle and my bow;
I will into some far countrey,
Where no man doth me know.'

12 'O stay, O stay, thou goodly youth!
She's alive, she is not dead;
Here she standeth by thy side,
And is ready to be thy bride.'

13 'O farewel grief, and welcome joy,
Ten thousand times and more!
For now I have seen my own true-love,
That I thought I should have seen no more.'

C