The False Knight Outwitted- Roxburghe Ballads c.1710- Child 4 Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight; Child F
[The date is added by Child with a question mark after it: In the catalogue of the British Museum, "London? 1710?." I've added the entire ballad from Roxburghe Ballads with the notes by I assume William Chappell, below. There are minor differences from the Child text, see the last stanzas.
Barry says (1929 British Ballads from Maine) Ebsworth, the Roxburghe Ballads editor, dates this c.1765.]
Version F. 'The False Knight Outwitted,' Roxburghe Ballads, British Museum, III, 449. 1875
In the catalogue of the British Museum, "London? 1710?"
1 'Go fetch me some of your father's gold,
And some of your mother's fee,
And I'll carry you into the north land,
And there I'll marry thee.'
2 She fetchd him some of her father's gold,
And some of her mother's fee;
She carried him into the stable,
Where horses stood thirty and three.
3 She leapd on a milk-white steed,
And he on a dapple-grey;
They rode til they came to a fair river's side,
Three hours before it was day.
4 'O light, O light, you lady gay,
O light with speed, I say,
For six knight's daughters have I drowned here,
And you the seventh must be.'
5 'Go fetch the sickle, to crop the nettle
That grows so near the brim,
For fear it should tangle my golden locks,
Or freckle my milk-white skin.'
6 He fetchd the sickle, to crop the nettle
That grows so near the brim,
And with all the strength that pretty Polly had
She pushd the false knight in.
7 'Swim on, swim on, thou false knight,
And there bewail thy doom,
For I don't think thy cloathing too good
To lie in a watry tomb.'
8 She leaped on her milk-white steed,
She led the dapple grey;
She rid till she came to her father's house,
Three hours before it was day.
9 'Who knocked so loudly at the ring?'
The parrot he did say;
'O where have you been, my pretty Polly,
All this long summer's day?'
10 'O hold your tongue, parrot,
Tell you no tales of me;
Your cage shall be made of beaten gold,
Which is now made of a tree.'
11 O then bespoke her father dear,
As he on his bed did lay:
'O what is the matter, my parrot,
That you speak before it is day?'
12 'The cat's at my cage, master,
And sorely frighted me,
And I call'd down my Polly
To take the cat away.'
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The False Knight Outwitted from Roxburghe Ballads by William Chappell, Ballad Society- 1875
TRIFLING though this scrap of ballad may appear, it has value, because it is unique, and is also the earliest representative in print of a favourite traditional narrative, which has been preserved among the peasantry of England (see J. H. Dixon's Collection made for the Percy Society, 1846, of Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England, "The Outlandish Knight;" it was copied later into the popularised republication, by Robert Bell, similarly named, p. 61), beginning, "An Outlandish Knight came from the North-lands." It had floated also among the peasantry of Scotland, in widely-differing versions, viz. 'May Colleen;' 'May Colzcan;' or 'May Colvin;' 'False Sir John,' etc., and 'The Water o' Wearie's Well,' or 'Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight.' In different localities wore attempted identification of the scene and actors. Stories to the same purport are found in the folk-lore and ballads of all the Northern nations, and are not unknown farther South, in Italy, Spain, and Portugal; with several variations in France, one recorded by that true poet, too early lost to us, by his own hand, Gerard de Nerval, properly Labrunie de Nerval, in his memorable idyllic romance, Les Filles du Feu (see our p. 438).
But of all these to trace the inter-connection, coincidences, and resemblances, suits the amateur Folk-lore student, far better than the ballad-historian, who is closely limited by space and purpose. In our present exemplar we find nothing of the supernatural element, mystic or occult. At its most fanciful height it rises not above a talking parrot. Readers may turn to Motherwell's version, to Buchan's (untrusted), to Charles Kiikpatrick Sharpe's, and best to Herd's Ancient and Modern Scottish Songs, I. 93,1776(17 stanzas):—
False Sir John a wooing came, to a maid of beauty fair;
May Cohen was this lady's name, her father's only heir.
He woo'd her butt, he woo'd her ben, he woo'd her in the ha',
Until be got this lady's consent, to mount and ride awa'.
Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe (see Vol. VI. p. 612) is dear to all of us: he believed that "Collin or Colvin is a corruption of Colvill; and that Carline Sands means Carlinseugh Sands, on the coast of Forfarshire. Sir John's charm resembles that used by Sir John Colquhoun in the year 1633, and the glamour of Fua the Egyptian," or Gipsy-laddie (A Ballad Book, reprinted, edited by the late David Laing, 1880, p. 45). His "much fuller set of one ballad than I ever saw printed" ("from the housekeeper at Methven"), begins thus:—
Oh! heard ye of a bloody Knight, lived in the South country?
For he had betrayed eight ladies fair, and drowned them in the sea. (30 stanzas.)
In English versions this 'Outlandish Knight came from the North-lands.'
It is worth mentioning here that the Scotch, who seldom yield us anything, are willing to assign him to the Southron-English. Nobody will accept the Bluebeard girl-slayer as a native, any more than would Whitechapel. We suspect that something of the Vampire superstition may have inspired the midEuropean first fancies. Successive murders became intelligible when the blood of each victim helped to renew the hateful existence of the slayer. Otherwise it was mere phrensied diabolical butchery of maiden after maiden: a thirst for blood in any case. Do we feel half the horror at the brutality of the Sultan, in the grand work of the "Thousand Nights and One Night," which we ought to feel? The Maiden Tribute allotted to the Minotaur was a trifle in comparison, though no trifle to the victims.
[Roxburghe Collection, III. 449. The only exemplar noted.]
"O, fetch me some of your Father's gold,
And some of your Mother's fee;
And I'll carry you into the North-land,
And there I'll marry thee." [Nota Bene.
She fetch'd him some of her father's gold,
And some of her mother's fee;
She carried him into the stable,
Where horses stood thirty-and-three.
She leap'd on a milk-white steed,
And he on a dapple-grey;
They rode till they came to a fair river's side,
Three hours before it was day.
"O 'light, O 'light! you lady gay,
O 'light with speed, I say;
For six Knights' daughters have I drowned here,
And you the seventh must be."
"Go fetch the sickle to crop the nettle
That grows so near the brim;
For fear it should tangle ray golden locks,
Or freckle my milk-white skin."
He fetch'd the sickle to crop the nettle,
That grew so near the brim;
And with all the strength that pretty Polly had
She pushed the False Knight in.
"Swim on, swim on, thou false Knight!
And there bewail thy doom;
For I don't think thy cloathing too good
To lie in a watery tomb."
She leaped on her milk-white steed,
She led the dapple grey;
She rid till she came to her father's house,
Three hours before it was day.
"Who knocked so loudly at the ring?"
The Parrot he did say;
"O where have you been, my pretty Polly,
All this long summer's day?"
"O hold your tongue, [my pretty] Parrot,
Tell you no tales of me;
Your cage shall be made of beaten gold,
Which is now made of a tree."
O then bespoke her father dear,
As he on his bed did lay;
"O what is the matter [with you,] my parrot,
That you speak before it is day?"
"The cat's [been] at my cage, Master,
And sorely frighted me,
And I call'd down my [Lady,] my Polly,
To take the cat away."