THE rain rins doun through Mirry-land toune, Sae dois the lads of Mirry-land toune, Than out and cam the Jewis dochtèr, Said, "Will ye cum in and dine?” "I winnae cum in, I cannae cum in, Without my play-feres nine." Scho powd an apple reid and white And that the sweit bairne did win. 5 10 And scho has taine out a little pen-knife, And low down by her gair, A word he nevir spak mair. Scho has twin'd the zong thing and his life; 15 And out and cam the thick thick bluid, And out and cam the thin; And out and cam the bonny herts bluid: Scho laid him on a dressing borde, And drest him like a swine, And laughing said, "Gae nou and pley With zour sweit play-feres nine." 20 Scho rowd him in a cake of lead, 25 Bade him lie stil and sleip. Scho cast him in a deip draw-well, Was fifty fadom deip. Quhan bells wer rung, and mass was sung, And every lady went hame : 30 Than ilka lady had her zong sonne, Bot lady Helen had nane. Scho rowd hir mantil hir about, And she ran into the Jewis castèl, 35 "My bomy sir Hew, my pretty sir Hew, "O lady, rinn to the deip draw-well, Lady Helen ran to the deip draw-well, "My bonny sir Hew, an ze be here, "The lead is wondrous heavy, mither, A keen pen-knife sticks in my hert, Gae hame, gae hame, my mither deir, 40 45 50 IV. SIR CAULINE. THIS old romantic tale was preserved in the editor's folio MS. but in so very defective and mutilated a condition (not from any chasm in the MS. but from great omission in the transcript, probably copied from the faulty recitation of some illiterate minstrel), and the whole appeared so far short of the perfection it seemed to deserve, that the editor was tempted to add several stanzas in the first part, and still more in the second, to connect and complete the story in the manner which appeared to him most interesting and affecting. There is something peculiar in the metre of this old ballad: it is not unusual to meet with redundant stanzas of six lines; but the occasional insertion of a double third or fourth line, as ver. 31, &c. is an irregularity I do not remember to have seen elsewhere. It may be proper to inform the reader before he comes to Pt. 2, v. 110, 111, that the round table was not peculiar to the reign of K. Arthur, but was common in all the ages of Chivalry. The proclaiming a great turnament (probably with some peculiar solemnities) was called " holding a Round Table." Dugdale tells us, that the great baron Roger de Mortimer "having procured the honour of knighthood to be conferred on his three sons' by K. Edw. I. he, at his own costs, caused a tourneament to be held at Kenilworth; where he sumptuously entertained an hundred knights, and as many ladies, for three days; the like whereof was never before in England; and there began the round table, (so called by reason that the place wherein they practised those feats was environed with a strong wall made in a round form :) And upon the fourth day, the golden lion, in sign of triumph, being yielded to him; he carried it (with all the company) to Warwick."-It may further be added, that Matthew Paris frequently calls justs and turnaments "Hastiludia Mensæ Rotundæ." As to what will be observed in this ballad of the art of healing being practised by a young princess; it is no more than what is usual in all the old romances, and was conformable to real manners: it being a practice derived from the earliest times among all the Gothic and Celtic nations, for women, even of the highest rank, to exercise the art of surgery. In the Northern Chronicles we always find the young damsels stanching the wounds of their lovers, and the wives those of their husbands. * And even so late as the time of Q. Elizabeth, it is mentioned among the accomplishments of the ladies of her court, that the "eldest of them are skilful in surgery." See Harrison's Description of England, prefixed to Holingshed's Chronicle, &c. THE FIRST PART. IN Ireland, ferr over the sea, And with him a yong and comlye knighte, Men call him syr Caulìne. The kinge had a ladye to his daughter, And princely wightes that ladye wooed *See "Northern Antiquities," &c vol. i. p. 318. vol. ii. p. 100. Memoires de la Chevalerie." Tom. i. p. 44. 5 Syr Cauline loveth her best of all, Till on a day it so beffell, Great dill to him was dight; One while he spred his armes him fro, "And aye! but I winne that ladyes love, And whan our parish-masse was done, He sayes, 10 15 20 That is wont to serve the wyne ?" Then aunswerde him a courteous knighte, 25 "Sir Cauline is sicke, and like to dye Without a good leechinge." 30 "Fetche me downe my daughter deere, She is a leeche fulle fine: Goe take him doughe, and the baken bread, Fair Christabelle to his chaumber goes, "O well," she sayth, "how doth my lord?" "Nowe ryse up wightlye, man, for shame, For it is told in my fathers halle, "Fayre ladye, it is for your love That all this dill I drye: For if you wold comfort me with a kisse, "Sir knighte, my father is a kinge, I am his onlye heire ; Alas! and well you knowe, syr knighte, "O ladye, thou art a kinges daughtèr, But let me doe some deedes of armes "Some deedes of armes if thou wilt doe, My bacheleere to bee, (But ever and aye my heart wold rue, Upon Eldridge hill there groweth a thorne, And dare ye, syr knighte, wake there all nighte For the Eldridge knighte, so mickle of mighte, And never man bare life awaye, But he did him scath and scorne. That knighte he is a foul paynìm, And large of limb and bone ; . And, but if heaven may be thy speede, "Nowe on the Eldridge hilles Ile walke,* And Ile either bring you a ready tokèn, The lady is gone to her own chaumbère, * Perhaps "wake," as above, in ver. 61. 45 50 55 60 65 70 |