No. 271: The Lord of Lorn and the Flas Steward
[There are no known US or Canadian traditional versions of this ballad.]
CONTENTS:
1. Child's Narrative
2. Footnotes (Footnotes for this ballad are found at the end of Child's Narrative)
3. Brief (Kittredge)
4. Child's Ballad Texts A- B a (Changes for B b- B c found in End-Notes)
5. End-Notes
6. Additions and Corrections
ATTACHED PAGES (see left hand column):
1. Recordings & Info: 271. The Lord of Lorn and the Flas Steward
A. Roud No. 113: The Lord of Lorn and the Flas Steward (7 Listings)
2. Sheet Music: 271. The Lord of Lorn and the Flas Steward (Bronson's music examples and texts)
3. English and Other Versions (Including Child versions A- B a-c)
Child's Narrative: 271. The Lord of Lorn and the Flas Steward
A. 'Lord of Learne,' Percy Manuscript, p. 73; Hales and Furnivall, I, 180.
B. 'A pretty ballad of the Lord of Lorn and the Fals Steward.'
a. Wood, 401, fol. 95 b.
b. Roxburghe, I, 222; Roxburghe Ballads, ed. Chappell, II, 55.
c. Pepys, I, 494, No 254.
Also in the Roxburghe collection, III, 534, without printer's name; Ewing, Nos 264, 265; Crawford, No 716. All the broadsides are of the second half of the seventeenth century.
'The Lord of Lome and the false Steward' was entered, with two other ballads, to Master Walley, 6 October, 1580; 'Lord of Lome' to Master Pavier and others (among 128 pieces), 14 December, 1624. Arber, II, 379; IV, 131.[1]
A. The young Lord of Lorn, when put to school, learns more in one day than his mates learn in three. He returns home earlier than was expected, and delights his father with the information that he can read any book in Scotland. His father says he must now go to France to learn the tongues. His mother is anxious that he should have a proper guardian if he goes, and the 'child' proposes the steward, who has impressed him as a man of fidelity. The Lady of Lorn makes the steward a handsome present, and conjures him to be true to her son. If I am not, he answers, may Christ not be true to me. The young lord sails for France, very richly appointed. Once beyond the water, the steward will give the child neither penny to spend nor meat and drink. The child is forced to lie down at some piece of water to quench his thirst; the steward pushes him in, meaning to drown him. The child offers everything for his life; the steward pulls him out, makes him put off all his fine clothes and don a suit of leather, and sends him to shift for himself, under the name of Poor Disaware. A shepherd takes him in, and he tends sheep on a lonely lea.
The steward sells the child's clothes, buys himself a suit fit for a lord, and goes a-wooing to the Duke of France's daughter, calling himself the Lord of Lorn; the duke favors the suit, and the lady is content. The day after their betrothal, the lady, while riding out, sees the child tending his sheep, and hears him mourning. She sends a maid to bring him to her, and asks him questions, which he answers, not without tears. He was born in Scotland, his name is Poor Disaware; he knows the Lord of Lorn, a worthy lord in his own country. The lady invites him to leave his sheep, and take service with her as chamberlain; the child is willing, but her father objects that the lord who has come a-wooing may not like that arrangement. The steward comes upon the scene, and is angry to find the child in such company. When the child gives his name as Poor Disaware, the steward denounces him as a thief who had robbed his own father; but the duke speaks kindly to the boy, and makes him his stable-groom. One day, when he is watering a gelding, the horse flings up his head and hits the child above the eye. The child breaks out, Woe worth thee, gelding! thou hast stricken the Lord of Lorn. I was born a lord and shall be an earl; my father sent me over the sea, and the false steward has beguiled me. The lady happens to be walking in her garden, and hears something of this; she bids the child go on with his song; this he may not do, for he has been sworn to silence. Then sing to thy gelding, and not to me, she says. The child repeats his story, and adds that the steward has been deceiving both her and him for a twelvemonth. The lady declares that she will marry no man but him that stands before her, sends in haste to her father to have her wedding put off, and writes an account of the steward's treachery to the old lord in Scotland. The old lord collects five hundred friends of high degree, and goes over to France in search of his son. They find him acting as porter at the duke's palace. The men of worship bow, the serving-men kneel, the old lord lights from his horse and kisses his son. The steward is just then in a castle-top with the duke, and sees what is going on below. Why are those fools showing such courtesy to the porter? The duke fears that this means death for one of them. The castle is beset; the steward is captured, is tried by a quest of lords and brought in guilty, is hanged, quartered, boiled, and burned. The young Lord of Lorne is married to the duke's daughter.
B. B is an abridgment of an older copy. The story is the same as in A in all material particulars. The admiration of the school-master and the self-complacency of his pupil in A 2, 3, B 3, are better justified in B by a stanza which has perhaps dropped out of A:
There's nere a doctor in all this realm,
For all he goes in rich array,
[But] I can write him a lesson soon
To learn in seven years day.
The last six stanzas are not represented in A, and the last two are glaringly modern; but there is a foundation for 62-64 in a romance from which the story is partly taken, the History of Roswall and Lillian.[2]
'Roswall and Lillian.' Roswall was son to the king of Naples. Happening one day to be near a prison, he heard three lords, who had been in durance many years for treason, putting up their prayers for deliverance. He was greatly moved, and resolved to help them out. The prison-keys were always hidden for the night under the king's pillow. Roswall possessed himself of them while his father was sleeping, set the lords free, and replaced the keys. The escape of the prisoners was reported the next morning, and the king made a vow that whoever had been instrumental to it should be hanged; if he came within the king's sight, the king would even slay him with his own hands. It soon came to light that the guilty party was none other than the prince. The queen interceded for her son, but the king could not altogether disregard his vow: the prince must be kept out of his sight, and the king promptly decided that Roswall should be sent to reside with the king of Bealm, under charge of the steward, a stalwart knight, to whom the queen promised everything for good service. As the pair rode on their way, they came to a river. The prince was sore athirst, and dismounted to take a drink. The steward seized him by the feet as he bent over the water, and vowed to throw him in unless he would swear an oath to surrender his money and credentials, and become servant where he had been master. To these hard terms Roswall was forced to consign. When they were near the king of Bealm's palace, the steward dropped Roswall's company, leaving him without a penny to buy his dinner; then rode to the king, presented letters, and was well received. Roswall went to a little house hard by, and begged for harbor and victuals for a day. The mistress made him welcome. She saw he was from a far country, and asked his name. Dissawar was his name; a poor name, said the old wife, but Dissawar you shall not be, for I will help you. The next day Roswall was sent to school with the dame's son. He gave his name as Dissawar again to the master; the master said he should want neither meat nor teaching. Roswall had been a remarkable scholar at home. Without doubt he astonished the master, but this is not said, for the story has been abridged here and elsewhere. In about a month, the steward of the king of Bealm, who had observed his beauty, courtesy, and good parts, carried him to the court of Bealm, where Roswall made himself a general favorite. The princess Lillian, only child of the king of Bealm, chose him to be her chamberlain, fell in love with him, and frankly offered him her heart, an offer which Roswall, professing always to be of low degree, gratefully accepted.
At this juncture the king of Bealm sent messengers to Naples proposing marriage between his daughter Lillian and the young prince who had been commended to him. The king of Naples assented to the alliance, and deputed lords and knights to represent him at the solemnity. The king of Bealm proclaimed a joust for the three days immediately preceding the wedding. Lillian's heart was cold, for she loved none but Dissawar. She told Dissawar that he must joust for his lady; but he said that he had not been bred to such things, and would rather go a-hunting. A-hunting he went, but before he got to work there came a knight in white weed on a white steed, who enjoined him to take horse and armor and go to the jousting, promising that he should find plenty of venison when he came back. Roswall toomed many a saddle, turned the steward's heels upward, made his way back to the wood, in spite of the king's order that he should be stopped, resumed his hunting-gear, took the venison, which, according to promise, was waiting for him, and presented himself and it to his lady. The order is much the same on the two succeeding days. A red knight equips Roswall for the joust on the second day, a knight in gold on the third. The steward is, on each occasion, put to shame, and in the last encounter two of his ribs are broken.
When Roswall came back to the wood after the third jousting, the three knights appeared together and informed him that they were the men whom he had delivered from prison, and who had promised to help him if help he ever needed. They bade him have no fear of the steward. Lillian had suspected from the second day that the victor was Roswall, and when he returned to her from his third triumph she intimated that if he would but tell the whole truth to her father their mutual wish would be accomplished. But Roswall kept his counsel very whimsically, unless it was out of respect to his oath and Lillian was constrained to speak for herself, for the marriage was to be celebrated on the fourth day. She asked her father in plain terms to give her Dissawar for her husband. The king replied, not unkindly, that she could not marry below her rank, and therefore must take the prince who had been selected for her; and to the steward she was married, however sorely against her will. In the course of the wedding-dinner, the three Neapolitan lords entered the hall, and saluted the king, the queen, and Lillian, but not the bridegroom. The king asked why they did no homage to their prince; they replied that they did not see their prince, went in search of Roswall, and brought him in. The force of the oath, or the consciousness of an obligation, must have been by this time quite extinct, for Roswall divulged the steward's treacherous behavior, and announced himself as the victor at the jousts. The steward was hanged that same day; then they passed to the kirk and married Roswall and Lillian. There was dancing till supper and after supper, the minstrels played with good will, and the bridal was kept up for twenty days.
Roswall and Lillian belongs with a group of popular tales of which the original seems to have been characterized by all or many of the following marks: (1) the son of a king liberates a man whom his father has imprisoned; (2) the penalty for so doing is death, and to save his life the prince is sent out of the country, attended by a servant; (3) the servant forces the prince to change places and clothes with him; (4) presents himself at a king's court as prince, and in his assumed quality is in a fair way to secure the hand of the king's daughter; (5) the true prince, figuring the while as a menial (stable-groom, scullion, gardener's lad), is successful, by the help of the man whom he has liberated, in a thrice-repeated contention (battle, tourney, race), or task, after which he is in a position to make known his rank and history; (6) the impostor is put to death, and the prince (who has, perhaps, in his humbler capacity, already attracted her notice and regard) marries the princess.[3]
Two Slavic tales, a Bosnian and a Russian, come as near as any to the story of our romance.
A king who has caught a wild man shuts him up, and denounces death to any one that shall let him out. The king's son's bedroom is just over the place in which the wild man is confined. The prince cannot bear to hear the continual wailings which come up, and he sets the prisoner free. The prince confesses what he has done; the king is persuaded by his advisers to banish his son rather than to enforce the penalty which he had decreed; the prince is sent off to a distant kingdom, attended by a servant. One day the prince was seized with thirst while travelling, and wished to get a drink from a well; but there was nothing to draw water with, and he ordered his servant to let him down to the surface of the water, holding him the while by the legs. This was done; but when the prince had drunk to his satisfaction, the servant refused to draw him up until he had consented to change places and clothes, and had sworn besides to keep the matter secret. When they arrived at the court of the king designated by the father, the sham prince was received with royal honors, and the true prince had to consort with servants... After a time, the king, wishing to marry off his daughter, proclaimed a three days' race, open to all comers, the prize to be a golden apple, and any competitor who should win the apple each of the three days to have the princess. Our prince had fallen in love with the young lady, and was most desirous to contend. The wild man had already helped him in emergencies here passed over, and did not fail him now. He provided his deliverer with fine clothes and a fine horse. The prince carried off the apple at each of the races, but disappeared as soon as he had the prize in hand. All the efforts of the king to find out the victor were to no purpose, but one day the princess met the prince in his serving-man's dress, and saw the apples shining from his breast. She told her father. The prince did not feel himself bound to further secrecy; he told everything; the king gave him the princess, and the servant was properly disposed of.[4]
Ivan, the tsar's son, releases from confinement Bulat, a robber, whom the tsar has kept in prison three and thirty years. Bulat tells Ivan to call him by name in case of future need, and he will not fail to appear. Ivan travels in foreign countries with his servant, and feeling thirsty of a warm day tells his servant to get him water from a deep well to which they have come; Ivan will hold him by a rope tied firmly about him, so that he can go down into the well without danger. The servant represents that he is the heavier of the two, too heavy for his master to hold, and that for this reason it would be better for Ivan himself to go for the water. Ivan is let down into the well, and having drunk his fill calls to his servant to draw him up. The servant refuses to draw him up unless Ivan will swear to give him a certificate in writing that he is master, and Ivan servant. The paper is given; they change clothes, and proceed on their journey, and come to Tsar Pantui's kingdom. Here the servant is received as a tsar's son, and when he tells Tsar Pantui that the object of his coming is to woo his daughter, the tsar complies with much pleasure. Ivan, at the servant's suggestion, is put to low work in the kitchen. Before long the kingdom is invaded, and the tsar calls upon his prospective son-in-law to drive off the enemy, for which service he shall receive the princess, but without it, not. The false Ivan begs the true Ivan to take the invaders in hand, and he assents without a word. Ivan calls for Bulat: one attacks the hostile army on the right, the other on the left, and in an hour they lay a hundred thousand low. Ivan returns to his kitchen. A second invasion, and a third, on a larger and larger scale, ensue, and Ivan and Bulat repulse the enemy with greater and greater loss. Ivan each time goes back to his kitchen; his servant has all the glory, and after the third and decisive victory marries the princess. Ivan gets permission from the cook to be a spectator at the wedding-banquet. The tsar's daughter, it must now be observed, had overheard the conference between the pseudo-prince and Ivan, and even that between Ivan and Bulat, and had hitherto, for inscrutable reasons, let things take their course. But when she saw Ivan looking at the feast from behind other people, she knew him at once, sprang from the table, brought him forward, and said, This is my real bridegroom and the savior of the kingdom; after which she entered into a full explanation, with the result that the servant was shot, and Ivan married to the tsar's daughter.[5]
Other tales of the same derivation, but deficient in some points, are: (A.) Radloff, Proben der Volkslitteratur der türkischen Stämme Süd-Sibiriens, IV, 385, 'Der Peri.' (B.) Straparola, Piacevoli Notti, v, 1 ('Guerrino, son of the king of Sicily '). (C.) Grimms, K.- und Hausmärchen, No 136, II, 242, ed. 1857, 'Der Eisenhans.' (D.) Sommer, Sagen, Märchen und Gebrauche aus Sachsen und Thüringen, p. 86, No 2, 'Der eiserne Mann.' (E.) Milenowsky, Volksmärchen aus Böhmen, p. 147, 'Vom wilden Manne.' [6]
(1) The son of a king liberates a prisoner (peri, wild or iron man), A-E. (The keys are under his mother's pillow, B, C.) (2) The prince goes to another kingdom, A-D with attendance, E without. (3) His attendant forces the prince to change places and clothes, only A. (Advantage is taken of the helplessness of the hero when let down into the well to force exchange of parts, in the Servian Tales of Dj. K. Stefanović, 1871, p. 39, No 7, Jagić, Archiv, 1, 271; Meyer, Albanian Tales, No 13, in Archiv für Litteraturgeschichte, XII, 137; Franzisci, Cultur-Studien in Kärnten, p. 99, and, nearly the same, Dozon, Contes Albanais, No 12, p. 83.) (5) The hero, serving as kitchen-boy or gardener's lad, C, D, E, defeats an invading army, C, D, E, wins a prize three successive days, C, E, is successful in three tasks, A, B; and all these feats are performed by the help of the prisoner whom he set free. The variation of the color of armor and horses occurs in C, E, an extremely frequent trait in tales and romances; see Ward, Catalogue of Romances, etc., 734 f., Lengert, XVII, 361. (Very striking in the matter of the tournaments is the resemblance of the romance of Ipomedon to Roswall and Lillian. Ipomedon, like Roswall, professes not to have been accustomed to such things, and pretends to go a-hunting, is victorious three successive days in a white, red, black suit, on a white, bay, black steed, vanishes after the contest, and presently reappears as huntsman, with venison which a friend had been engaged in securing for him.) (6) The treacherous attendant is put to death, A. The hero of course marries the princess in all the tales.
The points in the romance which are repeated in the ballad are principally these: The young hero is sent into a foreign country under the care of his father's steward. The steward, by threatening to drown him while he is drinking at a water-side, forces him to consent to an exchange of positions, and strips him of his money; then passes himself off as his master's son with a noble personage, who eventually fixes upon the impostor as a match for his only daughter. The young lord, henceforth known as Dissawar,[7] is in his extremity kindly received into an humble house, from which he soon passes into the service of the lady whose hand the steward aspires to gain. The lady bestows her love upon Dissawar, and he returns her attachment. In the upshot they marry, the false steward having been unmasked and put to death.
What is supplied in the ballad to make up for such passages in the romance as are omitted is, however, no less strictly traditional than that which is retained. Indeed, were it not for the name Dissawar, the romance might have been plausibly treated, not as the source of the ballad, but simply as a kindred story; for the exquisite tale of 'The Goose Girl' presents every important feature of 'The Lord of Lorn,' the only notable difference being that the young lord in the ballad exchanges parts with the princess in the tale, an occurrence of which instances have been, from time to time, already indicated.
In 'Die Gänsemagd,' Grimms, No 89, II, 13, ed. 1857, a princess is sent by her mother to be wedded to a bridegroom in a distant kingdom, with no escort but a maid. Distressed with thirst, the princess orders her maid to get down from her horse and fetch her a cup of water from a stream which they are passing. The maid refuses; she will no longer be servant, and the princess has to lie down and drink from the stream. So a second and a third time: and then the servant forces her mistress, under threat of death, to change horses and clothes, and to swear to keep the matter secret at the court to which they are bound. There the maid is received as princess, while the princess is put to tending geese with a boy. The counterfeit princess, fearing that her mistress's horse, Falada, may tell what he has observed, induces the young prince to cut off Falada's head. The princess has the head nailed up on a gate through which she passes when she takes out the geese, and every morning she addresses Falada with a sad greeting, and receives a sad return. The goose-boy tells the old king of this, and the next day the king hides behind the gate and hears what passes between the goose-girl and Falada. The king asks an explanation of the goose-girl when she comes back in the evening, but the only answer he elicits is that she has taken an oath to say nothing. Then the king says, If you will not tell me your troubles, tell them to the stove; and the princess creeps into the oven and pours out all her grief: how she, a king's daughter, has been made to change places with her servant, and the servant is to marry the bridegroom, and she reduced to tend geese. All this the king hears from outside of the room through the stovepipe, and he loses no time in repeating it to his son. The false maid is dragged through the streets in a barrel stuck full with nails, and the princess married to the prince to whom she had been contracted.
The passage in the ballad in which the Lord of Lorn relates to the gelding, within hearing of the duke's daughter, the injuries which he had sworn to conceal has, perhaps, suffered some corruption, though quibbling as to oaths is not unknown in ballads. The lady should be believed to be out of earshot, as the king is thought to be by the goose-girl. Unbosoming one's self to an oven or stove, is a decidedly popular trait; "the unhappy and the persecuted betake themselves to the stove, and to it bewail their sufferings, or confide a secret which they may not disclose to the world."[8] An entirely similar passage (but without an oath to secrecy) occurs in Basile's Pentamerone, II, 8, where a girl who has been shamefully maltreated by her uncle's wife tells her very miserable story to a doll, and is accidentally overheard by the uncle. The conclusion of the tale is quite analogous to that of the goose-girl.
Footnotes:
1. Edward Guilpin, in his Skialethia, or A Shadow of Truth, 1598, has this couplet:
Yet like th' olde ballad of the Lord of Lome,
Whose last line in King Harrie's days was borne.
Chappell, Popular Music, p. 228.
It is possible that Guilpin meant that the last line (stanza?) showed the ballad to be of Henry VIII's time; but he may have meant exactly what he says, that the last line was of Henry VIII's time. We do not know what the last line of the copy intended by Guilpin was, and all we learn from the couplet is that 'The Lord of Lorn' was called an old ballad before the end of the sixteenth century.
2. 'A Pleasant History of Roswall and Lillian,' etc., Edinburgh, 1663, reprint by David Laing, Edinburgh, 1822. Edited, with collation of the later texts and valuable contributions to the traditional history of the tale, by O. Lengert, Englische Studien, XVI, 321 ff., XVII, 341 ff.
3. The Grimms have indicated some of the tales belonging to this group, in their notes to No 136 and No 89. Others have been added by Lengert in Englische Studien. A second group, which has several of the marks of the first, is treated by Köhler, with his usual amplitude, in Archiv fur Litteraturgeschichte, XII, 142-44. Abstracts of many tales of both groups, including all that I have cited, are given by Lengert. See further in Additions, p. 280 f.
4. 'Kraljev sin,' 'The King's Son,' Bosanske narodne pripovjedke, 1870, No 4, p. 11, Serbian Folk-Lore, Madam Csedomille Mijatovies, 'One good turn deserves another,' p. 189.
5. Dietrich, Russische Volksmärchen, No 10, p. 131; Vogl, Die ältesten Volksmärchen der Russen, p. 55. 'Slugobyl,' Gliński, Bajarz polski, I, 166, ed. 1862, Chodzko, Contes des paysans et des patres slaves, p. 193, is an abridged form of the same story, with a traditional variation at the beginning, and in the conclusion a quite too ingenious turn as to the certificate.
6. Also, Waldau, Böhmischea Märchenbuch, p. 50, after Franz Rubeš.
7. I can make no guess that I am willing to mention as to the derivation and meaning of Dissawar. The old woman in the romance, v. 249 ff., says, 'Dissawar is a poor name, yet Dissawar you shall not be, for good help you shall have;' and the schoolmaster, v. 283 ff., says, 'Dissawar, thou shalt want neither meat nor laire.' It would seem that they understood the word to mean, "in want." Some predecessor of the romance may hy and by be recovered which shall put the meaning beyond doubt.
8. Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, 1875, I, 523 and note. "In 1585, a man that had been robbed, and had sworn silence, told his story to a stove in a tavern." A boy who has come to knowledge of a plot, and has been sworn to secrecy on pain of death, unburdens his mind to a stove. Grimm, Deutsche Sagen, No 513, II, 231.
Brief Description by George Lyman Kittredge
'The Lord of Lome and the false Steward' was entered in the Stationers' Registers, with two other ballads, to Master Walley, 6 October, 1580; 'Lord of Lome' to Master Pavier and others (among 128 pieces), 14 December, 1624. There are several broadsides of the second half of the seventeenth century, affording version B, which is an abridgement of an old copy. The story of B is the same as that of A in all material particulars.
'The Lord of Lorn' is apparently founded on the romance of Roswall and Lillian, which itself belongs with a well-known group of popular tales, represented by the Grimms' 'Goose-girl' (No. 89).
Child's Ballad Texts
'Lord of Learne'- Version A; Child 271 The Lord of Lorn and the False Steward
Percy Manuscript, p. 73, Hales and Furnivall, I, 180.
1 It was the worthy Lord of Learen,
He was a lord of a hie degree;
He had noe more children but one sonne,
He sett him to schoole to learne curtesie.
2 Lear[n]ing did soe proceed with that child,
I tell you all in veretie,
He learned more vpon one day
Then other children did on three,
3 And then bespake the schoole-master,
Vnto the Lord of Learne said hee,
I thinke thou be some stranger borne,
For the holy gost remaines with thee.
4 He said, I am noe stranger borne,
Forsooth, master, I tell it to thee;
It is a gift of Almighty God
Which he hath giuen vnto mee.
5 The schoole-master turnd him round about,
His angry mind he thought to asswage,
For the child cold answer him soe quicklie,
And was of soe tender yeere of age.
6 The child he caused a steed to be brought,
A golden bridle done him vpon;
He tooke his leaue of his schoolfellows,
And home the child that he is gone.
7 And when he came before his father,
He fell low downe vpon his knee:
'My blessing, father, I wold aske,
If Christ wold grant you wold gine it me.'
8 'Now God thee blesse, my sonne and my heire,
His servant in heauen that thou may bee!
What tydings hast thou brought me, child,
Thou art comen home so soone to mee?'
9 'Good tydings, father, I haue you brought,
Goo[d tydings] I hope it is to thee;
The booke is not in all s[c]ottlande
But I can reade it before your eye.'
10 A ioyed man his father was,
Euen the worthy lord of Learne:
'Thou shalt goe into Ffrance, my child,
The speeches of all strange lands to learne.'
11 But then bespake the child his mother,
The Lady of Learne and then was shee;
Saies, Who must be his well good guide,
When he goes into that strange country?
12 And then bespake that bonnie child,
Vntill his father tenderlie;
Saies, Father, I'le haue the hend steward,
For he hath been true to you and mee.
13 The lady to concell the steward did take,
And counted downe a hundred pound there;
Saies, Steward, be true to my sonne and my heire,
And I will giue thee mickle mere.
14 'If I be not true to my master,' he said,
'Christ himselfe be not trew to mee!
If I be not true to my lord and master,
An ill death that I may die!'
15 The Lord of Learne did apparell his child
With bruche, and ringe, and many a thinge;
The apparrell he had his body vppon,
Th say was worth a squier's liuinge.
16 The parting of the younge Lord of Learne
With his father, his mother, his fellows deere,
Wold haue made a manis hart for to change,
If a Iew borne that he were.
17 The wind did serue, and th did sayle
Over the sea into Ffrance land;
He vsed the child soe hardlie,
He wold let him haue neuer a penny to spend.
18 And meate he wold let the child haue none,
Nor mony to buy none, trulie;
The boy was hungry and thirsty both;
Alas! it was the more pitty.
19 He laid him downe to drinke the water
That was soe low beneathe the brime;
He [that] was wont to haue drunke both ale and wine
Then was faine of the water soe thinne.
20 And as he was drinking of the water
That ran soe low beneath the brime,
Soe ready was the false steward
To drowne the bonny boy therin.
21 'Haue mercy on me, worthy steward!
My life,' he said, 'lend it to mee,
And all that I am heire vpon,'
Saies, 'I will giue vnto thee.'
22 Mercy to him the steward did take,
And pulld the child out of the brime;
Euer alacke, the more pittye!
He tooke his clothes euen from him.
23 Saies, Doe thou me of that veluett gowne,
The crimson hose beneath thy knee,
And doe me of thy cordiuant shoone,
Are buckled with the gold soe free.
24 'Doe thou me off thy sattin doublett,
Thy shirtband wrought with glistering gold,
And doe mee off thy golden chaine,
About they necke soe many a fold.
25 'Doe thou me off thy veluett hat,
With fether in that is soe fine;
All vnto thy silken shirt,
That's wrought with many a golden seam.'
26 The child before him naked stood,
With skin as white as lilly flower;
For [t]his worthy lords bewtie
He might haue beene a ladye's paramoure.
27 He put vpon him a lether cote,
And breeches of the same beneath the knee,
And sent that bony child him froe,
Service for to craue, truly,
28 He pulld then forth a naked sword
That hange full low then by his side;
'Turne thy name, thou villaine,' he said,
'Or else this sword shall be thy guide.'
29 'What must be my name, worthy steward?
I pray thee now tell it me:'
'Thy name shalbe Pore Disaware,
To tend sheepe on a lonelye lee.'
30 The bonny child he went him froe,
And looked to himselfe, truly;
Saw his apparrell soe simple vppon;
O Lord! he weeped tenderlye.
31 Vnto a shepard's house that childe did goe,
And said, Sir, God you saue and see!
Doe you not want a servant-boy,
To tend your sheepe on a lonelie lee?
32 'Where was thou borne?' the shepard said,
'Where, my boy, or in what country?'
'Sir,' he said, 'I was borne in fayre Scottland,
That is soe farr beyond the sea.'
33 'I haue noe child,' the shepard sayd;
'My boy, thoust tarry and dwell with mee;
My liuinge,' he sayd, a+end all my goods,
I'le make thee heire [of] after mee.'
34 And then bespake the shepard's wife,
To the Lord of Learne thus did she say;
'Goe thy way to our sheepe,' she said,
'And tend them well both night and day.'
35 It was a sore office, O Lord, for him
That was a lord borne of a great degree!
As he was tending his sheepe alone,
Neither sport nor play cold hee.
36 Let vs leaue talking of the Lord of Learne,
And let all such talking goe;
Let vs talke more of the false steward,
That caused the child all this woe.
37 He sold this Lord of Learne's his clothes
For five hundred pound to his pay [there],
And bought himselfe a suite of apparrell
Might well beseeme a lord to weare.
38 When he that gorgeous apparrell bought,
That did soe finelie his body vppon,
He laughed the bony child to scorne
That was the bonny Lord of Learne.
39 He laughed that bonny boy to scorne;
Lord! pitty it was to heare;
I haue herd them say, and soe haue you too,
That a man may buy gold to deere.
40 When that he had all that gorgeous apparrell,
That did soe finelie his body vpon,
He went a woing to the Duke's daughter of France,
And called himselfe the Lord of Learne.
41 The Duke of Ffrance heard tell of this,
To his place that worthy lord was come, truly;
He entertaind him with a quart of red Renish wi[ne],
Saies, Lord of Learne, thou art welcome to me.
42 Then to supper that they were sett,
Lords and ladyes in thei degree;
The steward was sett next the Duke of France;
An vnseemlye sight it was to see.
43 Then bespake the Duke of Ffrance,
Vnto the Lord of Leearne said hee there,
Sayes, Lord of Learne, if thou'le marry my daught[er],
I'le mend thy liuing fiue hundred pound a yeere.
44 Then bespake that lady fayre,
Answered her father soe alone,
That shee would be his marryed wiffe
If he wold make her lady of Learne.
45 Then hand in hand the steward her he tooke,
And plight that lady his troth alone,
That she shold be his marryed wiffe,
And he wold make her the ladie of Learne.
46 Thus that night it was gone,
The other day was come, truly;
The lady wold see the robucke run,
Vp hills and dales and forrest free.
47 Then shee was ware of the younge Lord of Learne
Tending sheepe vnder a bryar, trulye.
. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
48 And thus shee called vnto her maids,
And held her hands vp thus an hie;
Sayes, Feitch me yond shepard's boy,
I'le know why he doth mourne, trulye.
49 When he came before that lady fayer,
He fell downe vpon his knee;
He had beene so well brought vpp
He needed not to learne curtesie.
50 'Where wast thou borne, thou bonny boy?
Where or in what countrye?'
'Madam, I was borne in faire Scottland,
That is soe farr beyond the sea.'
51 'What is thy name, thou bonny boy?
I pray thee tell it vnto mee;'
'My name' he sayes, 'is Poore Disaware,
That tends sheepe on a lonely lee.'
52 'One thing thou must tell mee, bonny boy,
Which I must needs aske of thee,
Dost not thou know the young Lord of Learne?
He is comen a woing into France to me.'
53 'Yes, that I doe, madam,' he said,
And then he wept most tenderlie;
'The Lord of Learne is a worthy lord,
If he were at home in his oune country.'
54 'What ayles thee to weepe, my bonny boy?
Tell me or ere I part thee froe:'
'Nothing but for a freind, madam,
That's dead from me many a yeere agoe.'
55 A loud laughter the ladie lought,
O Lord! shee smiled wonderous hie:
'I haue dwelled in France since I was borne;
Such a shepard's boy I did neuer see.
56 'Wilt thou not leaue thy sheep, my child,
And come vnto service vnto mee?
And I will giue thee meate and fee,
And my chamberlaine thou shalt bee.'
57 'Then I will leaue my sheepe, madam,' he sayd,
'And come into service vnto thee,
If you will giue me meate and fee,
Your chamberlaine that I may bee.'
58 When the lady come before her father,
Shee fell low downe vpon her knee;
'Grant me, father,' the lady said,
'This boy my chamberlaine to be.'
59 'But O nay, nay,' the duke did say,
'Soe my daughter it may not bee;
The lord that is come a woing to you
Will be offended with you and mee.'
60 Then came downe the false steward,
Which called himselfe the Lord of Learne, trulie;
When he looked that bonny boy vpon,
An angry man i-wis was hee.
61 'Where was thou borne, thou vagabond?
Where?' he sayd, 'and in what country?'
Says, I was borne in fayre Scotland,
That is soe far beyond the sea.
62 'What is thy name, thou vagabond?
Haue done qu[i]cklie, and tell it to me;'
'My name,' he sayes, 'is Poore Disaware,
I tend sheep on the lonelie lee.'
63 'Thou art a theefe,' the steward said,
'And soe in the end I will prooue thee;'
. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
64 Then be-spake the ladie fayre,
'Peace, Lord of Learne! I doe pray thee;
Ffor if noe loue you show this child,
Noe favor can you haue of mee.'
65 'Will you beleeue me, lady faire,
When the truth I doe tell yee?
Att Aberdonie, beyond the sea,
His father he robbed a hundred three.'
66 But then bespake the Duke of France
Vnto the boy soe tenderlie;
Saies, Boy, if thou loue harsses well,
My stable-groome I will make thee.
67 And thus that that did passe vppon
Till the twelve monthes did draw to an ende;
The boy applyed his office soe well
Euery man became his freind.
68 He went forth earlye one morning
To water a gelding at the water soe free;
The gelding vp, and with his head
He hitt the child aboue his eye.
69 'Woe be to thee, thou gelding,' he sayd,
'And to the mare that foled thee!
Thou hast striken the Lord of Learne
A litle tinye aboue the eye.
70 'First night after I was borne, a lord I was,
An earle after my father doth die;
My father is the worthy Lord of Learne,
And child he hath noe more but mee;
He sent me over the sea with the false steward,
And thus that he hath beguiled mee.'
71 The lady [wa]s in her garden greene,
Walking with her mayds, trulye,
And heard the boy this mourning make,
And went to weeping, trulie.
72 'Sing on thy song, thou stable groome,
I pray thee doe not let for mee,
And as I am a true ladie
I wilbe trew vnto thee.'
73 'But nay, now nay, madam!' he sayd,
'Soe that it may not bee;
I am tane sworne vpon a booke,
And forsworne I will not bee.'
74 'Sing on thy song to thy gelding,
And thou doest not sing to mee;
And as I am a true ladie
I will euer be true vnto thee.'
75 sayd, Woe be to thee, gelding,
And to the mare that foled thee!
For thou hast strucken the Lord of Learne,
A litle aboue mine eye.
76 First night I was borne, a lord I was,
An earle after my father doth dye;
My father is the good Lord of Learne,
And child he hath noe other but mee;
My father sent me over [the sea] with the false steward,
And thus that he hath beguiled mee.
77 'Woe be to the steward, lady,' he sayd,
'Woe be to him verrily!
He hath beene about this twelve months day
For to deceiue both thee and mee.
78 'If you doe not my councell keepe,
That I haue told you with good intent,
And if you doe it not well keepe,
Ffarwell! my life is at an ende.'
79 'I wilbe true to thee, Lord of Learne,
Or else Christ be not soe vnto me;
And as I am a trew ladye,
I'le neuer marry none but thee.'
80 Shee sent in for her father, the Duke,
In all the speed that ere might bee;
'Put of my wedding, father,' shee said,
'For the loue of God, this monthes three.
81 'Sicke I am,' the ladye said,
'O sicke, and verry like to die!
Put of my wedding, father Duke,
Ffor the loue of God, this monthes three.'
82 The Duke of France put of this wedding
Of the steward and the lady month s three,
For the ladie sicke shee was,
Sicke, sicke, and like to die.
83 Shee wrote a letter with her owne hand,
In all the speede that euer might bee;
Shee sent [it] over into Scottland,
That is soe farr beyond the sea.
84 When the messenger came beffore the old Lord of Learne,
He kneeled low downe on his knee,
And he deliuered the letter vnto him,
In all the speed that euer might bee.
85 [The] first looke he looked the letter vpon,
Lo! he wept full bitterly;
The second looke he looked it vpon,
Said, False steward, woe be to thee!
86 When the Ladye of Learne these tydings heard,
O Lord! shee wept soe biterlye:
'I told you of this, now good my lord,
When I sent my child into that wild country.'
87 'Peace, Lady of Learne,' the lord did say,
'For Christ his loue I doe pray thee;
And as I am a christian man,
Wroken vpon him that I wilbe.'
88 He wrote a letter with his owne hand,
In all the speede that ere might bee;
He sent it into the lords in Scottland,
That were borne of a great degree.
89 He sent for lords, he sent for knights,
the best that were in the countrye,
To go with him into the land of France,
To seeke his sonne in that strange country.
90 The wind was good, and they did sayle,
Fiue hundred men into France land,
There to seeke that bonny boy
That was the worthy Lord of Learne.
91 They sought the country through and through,
Soe farr to the Duke's place of Ffrance land;
There they were ware of that bonny boy,
Standing with a porter's staffe in his hand.
92 Then the worshippfull, th did bowe,
The serving-men fell on their knee,
They cast their hatts vp into the ayre
For ioy that boy that they had seene.
93 The Lord of Learne then he light downe,
And kist his child both cheeke and chinne,
And said, God blesse thee, my sonne and my heire!
The blisse of heauen that thou may winne!
94 The false steward and the Duke of France
Were in a castle-topp, trulie;
'What fooles are yond,' says the false steward,
'To the porter makes soe lowe curtesie?'
95 Then bespake the Duke of Ffrance,
Calling my Lord of Learne, trulie;
He sayd, I doubt the day be come
That either you or I must die.
96 Th sett the castle round about,
A swallow cold not haue flone away;
And there th tooke the false steward
That the Lord of Learne did betray.
97 And when they had taken the false steward,
He fell lowe downe vpon his knee,
And craued mercy of the Lord of Learne
For the villanous dedd he had done, trulye.
98 'Thou shalt haue mercy,' said the Lord of Learne,
'Thou vile traitor, I tell to thee,
As the lawes of the realme they will thee beare,
Wether it bee for thee to liue or dye.'
99 A quest of lords that there was chosen,
To goe vppon his death, trulie;
There th iudged the false steward,
Whether he was guiltie, and for to dye.
100 The forman of the iury he came in,
He spake his words full lowd and hie;
Said, Make thee ready, thou false steward,
For now thy death it drawes full nie.
101 Sayd he, If my death it doth draw nie,
God forgiue me all I haue done amisse!
Where is that lady I haue loued soe longe?
Before my death to giue me a kisse.
102 'Away, thou traitor!' the lady said,
'Auoyd out of my company!
For thy vild treason thou hast wrought,
Thou had need to cry to God for mercye.'
103 First they tooke him and h[a]ngd him halfe,
And let him downe before he was dead,
And quartered him in quarters many,
And sodde him in a boyling lead.
104 And then they tooke him out againe,
And cutten all his ioynts in sunder,
And burnte him eke vpon a hyll;
I-wis th did him curstlye cumber.
105 A loud laughter the lady laught,
O Lord! she smiled merrylie;
She sayd I may praise my heauenly king
That euer I seene this vile traytor die.
106 Then bespake the Duke of France,
Vnto the right Lord of Learne sayd he there;
Says, Lord of Learne, if thou wilt marry my daught[er]
I'le mend thy liuing fiue hundred a yeere.
107 But then bespake that bonie boy,
And answered the Duke quicklie,
I had rather marry your daughter with a ring of go[ld]
Then all the gold that ere I blinket on with mine eye.
108 But then bespake the old Lord of Learne,
To the Duke of France thus he did say,
Seeing our children doe soe well agree,
They shalbe marryed ere wee goe away.
109 Lady of Learne shee was sent for
Throughout Scottland soe speedilie,
To see these two children sett vpp
In their seats of gold full royallye.
--------------
'A pretty ballad of the Lord of Lorn and the Fals Steward'- Version B a; Child 271 The Lord of Lorn and the False Steward
a. Wood, 401, fol. 95 b.
1 It was a worthy Lord of Lorn,
He was a lord of high degree,
He sent [his son] unto the schoole,
To learn some civility.
2 He learned more learning in one day
Then other children did in three;
And then bespake the schoolmaster
Unto him tenderly,
3 'In faith thou art the honestest boy
That ere I blinkt on with mine eye;
I hope thou art some easterling born,
The Holy Ghost is with thee.'
4 He said he was no easterling born,
The child thus answered courteously;
My father is the Lord of Lorn,
And I his son, perdye.
5 The schoolmaster turned round about,
His angry mood he could not swage;
He marvelled the child could speak so wise,
He being of so tender age.
6 He girt the saddle to the steed,
The bridle of the best gold shone;
He took his leave of his fellows all,
And quickly he was gone.
7 And when he came to his father dear
He kneeled down upon his knee;
'I am come to you, fathe[r],' he said,
'God's blessing give you me.'
8 'Thou art welcome, son,' he said,
'God's blessing I give thee;
What tidings hast thou brought, my son,
Being come so hastily?'
9 'I have brought tidings, father,' he said,
'And so lik d it may be.
There's never a book in all Scotland
But I can read it, truly.
10 'There's nere a doctor in all this realm,
For all he goes in rich array,
I can write him a lesson soon
To learn in seven years day.'
11 'That is good tidings,' said the lord,
'All in the place where I do stand;
My son, thou shalt into France go,
To learn the speeches of each land.'
12 'Who shall go with him?' said the lady;
'Husband, we have no more but he;'
'Madam,' he saith, 'My head steward,
He hath bin true to me.'
13 She cal'd the steward to an account,
A thousand pound she gave him anon;
Sayes, Good Sir Steward, be as good to my child,
When he is far from home.
14 'If I be fals unto my young lord,
Then God be [the] like to me indeed!'
And now to France they both are gone,
And God be their good speed.
15 They had not been in France land
Not three weeks unto an end,
But meat and drink the child got none,
Nor mony in purse to spend.
16 The child ran to the river's side;
He was fain to drink water then;
And after followed the fals steward,
To put the child therein.
17 'But nay, marry!' said the child,
He asked mercy pittifully,
'Good steward, let me have my life,
What ere betide my body.'
18 'Now put off thy fair cloathing
And give it me anon;
So put thee of thy s'lken shirt,
With many a golden seam.'
19 But when the child was stript naked,
His body white as the lilly-flower,
He might have bin seen for his body
A prince's paramour.
20 He put him in an old kelter coat
And hose of the same above the knee,
He bid him go to the shepherd's house,
To keep sheep on a lonely lee.
21 The child did say, What shall be my name?
Good steward, tell to me;
'Thy name shall be Poor Disawear,
That thy name shall be.'
22 The child came to the shepheard's house,
And asked mercy pittifully;
Sayes, Good sir shepheard, take me in,
To keep sheep on a lonely lee.
23 But when the shepheard saw the child,
He was so pleasant in his eye,
'I have no child, I'le make thee my heir,
Thou shalt have my goods, perdie.'
24 And then bespake the shepheard's wife,
Unto the child so tenderly;
'Thou must take the sheep and go to the field,
And keep them on a lonely lee.'
25 let us leave talk of the child,
That is keeping sheep on a lonely lee,
And we'l talk more of the fals steward,
And of his fals treachery.
26 He bought himself three suits of apparrell,
That any lord might a seem[d] to worn,
He went a wooing to the Duke's daughter,
And cal'd himself the Lord of Lorn.
27 The duke he welcomed the yong lord
With three baked stags anon;
If he had wist him the fals steward,
To the devill he would have gone.
28 But when they were at supper set,
With dainty delicates that was there,
The d[uke] said, If thou wilt wed my daughter,
I'le give thee a thousand pound a year.
29 The lady would see the red buck run,
And also for to hunt the doe,
And with a hundred lusty men
The lady did a hunting go.
30 The lady is a hunting gon,
Over le and fell that is so high;
There was she ware of a shepherd's boy,
With sheep on a lonely lee.
31 And ever he sighed and made moan,
And cried out pittifully,
'My father is the Lord of Lorn,
And knows not wha[t]'s become of me.'
32 And then bespake the lady gay,
And to her maid she spake anon,
'Go fetch me hither the shepherd's boy;
Why maketh he all this moan?'
33 But when he came before the lady
. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
He was not to learn his courtesie:
34 'Where was thou born, thou bonny child?
For whose sake makst thou all this mone?'
'My dearest friend, lady,' he said,
'Is dead many years agon.'
35 'Tell thou to me, thou bonny child,
Tell me the truth and do not lye,
Knost thou not the yong lord of Lorn,
Is come a wooing unto me?'
36 'Yes, forsooth,' then said the child,
'I know the lord then, veryly;
The young lord is a valliant lord
At home in his own country.'
37 'Wilt leave thy sheep, thou bonny child,
And come in service unto me?'
'Yes, forsooth,' then said the child,
'At your bidding will I be.'
38 When the steward lookt upon the child,
He bewraild him villainously:
'Where wast thou born, thou vagabone?
Or where is thy country?'
39 'Ha don! ha don!' said the lady gay,
She cal'd the steward then presently;
'Without you bear him more good will,
You get no love of me.'
40 Then bespake the false steward
Unto the lady hastily:
'At Aberdine, beyond the seas,
His father robbed thousands three.'
41 But then bespake the lady gay
Unto her father courteously,
Saying, I have found a bonny child
My chamberlain to be.
42 'Not so, not so,' then said the duke,
'For so it may not be,
For that young L[ord] of Lorn that comes a wooing
Will think something of thee and me.'
43 When the duke had lookt upon the child,
He seemd so pleasant to the eye,
'Child, because thou lovst horses well,
My groom of stables thou shalt be.'
44 The child plied the horses well
A twelve month to an end;
He was so courteous and so true
Every man became his fri[e]nd.
45 He led a fair gelding to the water,
Where he might drink, verily;
The great gelding up with his head
And hit the child above the eye.
46 'Wo worth thee, horse!' then said the child,
'That ere mare foaled thee!
Thou little knowst what thou hast done;
Thou hast stricken a lord of high degree.'
47 The d[uke's] daughter was in her garden green,
She heard the child make great moan;
She ran to the child all weeping,
And left her maidens all alone.
48 'Sing on thy song, thou bonny child,
I will release thee of thy pain;'
'I have made an oath, lady,' he said,
'I dare not tell my tale again.'
49 'Tell the horse thy tale, thou bonny child,
And so thy oath shall saved be;'
But when he told the horse his tale
The lady wept full tenderly.
50 'I'le do for thee, my bonny child,
In faith I will do more for thee;
For I will send thy father word,
And he shall come and speak with me.
51 'I will do more, my bonny child,
In faith I will do more for thee,
And for thy sake, my bonny child,
I'le put my wedding off months three.'
52 The lady she did write a letter,
Full pittifully with her own hand,
She sent it to the Lord of Lorn
Whereas he dwelt in fair Scotland.
53 But when the lord had read the letter
His lady wept most tenderly:
'I knew what would become of my child
In such a far country.'
54 The old lord cal'd up his merry men,
And all that he gave cloth and fee,
With seven lords by his side,
And into France rides he.
55 The wind servd, and they did saile
So far into France land;
They were ware of the Lord of Lorn,
With a porter's staff in his hand.
56 The lords they moved hat and hand,
The servingmen fell on their knee;
'What folks be yonder,' said the steward,
'That makes the porter courtesie?'
57 'Thou art a false thief,' said the L[ord] of Lorn,
'No longer might I bear with thee;
By the law of France thou shalt be ju[d]gd,
Whether it be to live or die.'
58 A quest of lords there chosen was,
To bench they came hastily,
But when the quest was ended
The fals steward must dye.
59 First they did him half hang,
And then they took him down anon,
And then put him in boyling lead,
And then was sodden, brest and bone.
60 And then bespake the Lord of Lorn,
With many other lords mo;
'Sir Duke, if you be as willing as we,
We'l have a marriage before we go.'
61 These children both they did rejoyce
To hear the lord his tale so ended;
They had rather to day then to morrow,
So he would not be offended.
62 But when the wedding ended was
There was delicious dainty cheer;
I'le tell you how long the wedding did last,
Full three quarters of a year.
63 Such a banquet there was wrought,
The like was never seen;
The king of France brought with him then
A hundred tun of good red wine.
64 Five set of musitians were to be seen,
That never rested night nor day,
Also Italians there did sing,
Full pleasantly with great joy.
65 Thus have you heard what troubles great
Unto successive joyes did turn,
And happy news among the rest
Unto the worthy Lord of Lorn.
66 Let rebels therefore warn d be
How mischief once they do pretend;
For God may suffer for a time,
But will disclose it in the end.
-------------
End-Notes
A. 24. on 3.
54. agee.
92. to mee.
104. to learne the speeches of all strange lands.
132. 100li.
163. ? mams in Manuscript. Furnivall.
193. brimn.
194. thime.
223. euen alacke.
243. a long s in the Manuscript between me and off. F.
252. thats.
254. golden swaine. B. seam.
353. tenting.
363. falst.
373. 500li: pay [there]. Cf. 432, 1052.
434. 500l.
463. rum.
471,2, 481,2, make a stanza in the Manuscript, and 523,4, 53, are written together. 47-53 have been arranged upon the supposition that two verses (about the boy's mourning) have dropped out after 47 1,2.
481,2. A tag after d in maids, hands may not mean s. F.
534. One stroke too many for oune in Manuscript. F.
541. One stroke too many for bony, or too few for bonny, in the Manuscript. F.
604. I-wis.
611. thou was.
631,2, 64, are written together in the Manuscript.
641. he spake.
654. 100: 3.
672. 12.
694. the knee. Cf. 684, 754.
704. his child. Cf. 764.
744. euer. Either ieuer in Manuscript or the letter before e crossed out. F.
751,2 are written with 74, 75 3,4 with 761,2, in the Manuscript.
751. to thy.
763. Cf. 706.
771. to thee.
773. beene aboue: 12.
792. soe may be true: half the line is pared away. F.
804, 814, 822. 3.
902. 500.
923. knees.
924. Perhaps did see.
932. chime.
934. wiine.
953. daubt.
983. they. The y is in a modern hand. F.
1002. hiye.
1064. 500.
1074. mine. One stroke too few in the Manuscript. F.
1091. They: for sent.
1093. 2.
And for & always.
B. The tune is Green Sleeves.
a. Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, and W. Gilbertson.
b. Printed by and for A. M[ilbourne], and sold by the booksellers of London.
c. Printed for J. Clarke, W. Thackeray, and T. Passinger.
a, b, c. 13. b, c. sent his son.
21. b, c. learning wanting.
23. b, c. And thus.
24. c. To him.
32. b, c. with my.
43. a. Lord of Lord.
52. b. he thought to asswage.
54. b. so tender of.
62. a. of his (?) gold. b, c. of the best gold.
72. c. on his.
74. b. give to.
81. b, c. my son.
82. c. I the give.
92. b. if that well liked.
93,4. b, c. wanting.
101. b, c. all the.
113. b. to France.
122. b, c. have none.
123. b. said he.
133. b, c. as wanting.
134. b, c. while he.
141. b. false to.
142. b. may God justly punish me indeed. c. the like.
152. b, c. to an.
161. b, c. run. b. river.
162. b. the water.
174. b. eer else.
192. b, c. as white.
194. b. princess's.
201. b, c. him on.
202. a. thee.
204. a. love lodely: b. keep them on a love lovely: c. love lovely.
211. b, c. child said.
213. a, b, c. poor dost thou wear. A. disaware.
223. b, c. sir wanting.
224, 244, 252, 304. a, b, c. love lovely. A. lonelye lee. Perhaps, lone, lone, lee.
232. b, c. in the.
241. a. wise, b, c. bespoke.
242. c. thee sheep, b. to field.
244. a, c. And get. b. keep.
251. b, c. talking.
253. c. we will.
262. b. a lord, b, c. have seemd.
273. c. himself.
274. b, c. he should.
282. b, c. were.
283. b. you will.
284. b, c. pounds.
293. b, c. an.
302. a, c. Feansell. b. feanser.
303. b, c. aware.
311. b. And often: made great moan.
314. c. what is.
322. b, c. unto her maid anon.
331,4. a, b, c. Two lines wanting.
341. b. wast born. c. wast thou born.
351. b. to wanting.
352. c. the wanting.
354. b, c. he is.
361. a. foorsooth. c. forsooth saith the.
373. c. the wanting.
382. b, c. bewailed, c. villaniously.
383. b, c. vagabond.
391. a, b, c. Ha down. b, c. gay wanting.
401. a. stewardly.
411. c. than.
423. b. the Lord. c. young D.
424. b, c. think no good. b. of me nor thee.
431. b. had wanting.
432. b. in the.
434. b, c. stable.
444. a, c. become, b. became.
452. a. may. b, c. might.
453. b, c. great wanting. b. his heel.
461. a. thou horse, b. thee. c. the.
462. b, c, ever.
471. a, c. D. daughter.
491. a. Mell: lonny.
494. b, c. wept most.
503,4, 511,2. b, c. wanting.
521. b, c. she wanting: letter then.
524. a. dwells, b, c. dwelt.
544. b. unto.
553. b. aware.
564. c. maketh.
571. b, c. quoth the.
592. b. they wanting.
602. a. more, b, c. mo.
613. b, c. than.
622. b, c. delicate, dilicate.
63. a. Before 63: Such a banquet there was wrought, the like was seen I say.
641. a. fet. b, c. set.
651. b, c. how troubles.
653. b, c. amongst.
Additions and Corrections
P. 45. Other Russian popular tales in which the characteristic traits of the group spoken of are well preserved: Afanasief, V, 178, No 37, ed. 1861, I, 239, No 67 b, ed. 1873, 'Tsarevitch i yevo Sluga;' 'Korolevitch i yevo Djadka,' the same, VIII, 170, No 18, ed. 1863, I, 233, No 67 a,ed. 1873; Khudyakof, II, 83, No 44, 'Udivitelny Muzhitchek;' the same, III, 143, No 115, 'Muzhitchenko s Kulatchenko.' A tsar's son delivers a prisoner; is condemned to leave the country with a servant (tutor, warden); having been let down into a well to drink, is forced to change positions and clothes with his attendant; serves as herdsman, horse-boy, cook, the attendant aspiring to marry a king's daughter; destroys three dragons (a seven-headed monster in the second, the fourth defective here); marries the princess, the servant or tutor being put to death (baited with dogs in the third, set to work in the stable in the fourth). [1]
Afanasief, IV, 72, ed. 1873, refers to other Russian versions, and gives, p. 73 f., the Russian form of 'The Goose-Girl.'
46 b. Add: (F.) Ivan Tsarevitch i Martha-Tsarevna, Afanasief, I, 227, No 21, 1863, I, 246, No 68, 1873. (G.) 'Masenzhni Dzjadok,' the same, V, 185, No 38, 1861, I, 254, No 69, 1873. (H.) 'Kiósut,' Sbornik of the Bulgarian Ministry of Education, III, II, 222. (I.) 'Der Königssohn und der Bartlose,' Hahn, Griechische u. Albanesische Märchen, I, 233, No 37. (1.) The son of a king liberates a prisoner (man of iron and copper, bird with human voice), F, G (stealing the key from his mother, G). (2.) The prince is under the necessity of leaving the country, F-I (is attended by a beardless man, H, I). (3.) To get out of a well has to consent to change clothes and position (with the beardless man, whom he had allowed to join him, or who had been hired as horse-driver), H, I. (4.) King's daughter (fair maid with golden locks, I) aspired to by a low fellow, F, H, I. (5.) Prince figures as stable-boy or scullion, F, G, I, kills three dragons, F, defeats an army, G, accomplishes three tasks, H, I. (6.) Prince marries princess, F, G, H (marries Golden Locks, I), treacherous competitor banished, F, hanged, H, thrown into boiling oil, I. [2]
Footnotes for Additions and Corrections:
1. I have to thank Professor Wollner for giving me in translation the two tales from Afanasief and a Bulgarian tale presently to be mentioned.
2. In the Greek tale, I, the prince confides his trouble to an old lame horse. The coincidence here with the ballad does not go very far, and may be an accident, but may be more than that.