EDWARD, EDWARD. Vv. EDWARD, EDWARD. A Scorris Batiap. From a MS. copy transmitted from Scotland, £ HE affectedly antique orthography of this ballad has caused some to suppose that it was a modem inven- tion, probably by Lady Wardlaw, the author of Hardy. Anute, but Motherwell obtained’ another version from the recitation of an old woman, which he printed in his Minstrelsy under the title of “Son Davie, son Davie.” He there says that there is reason to believe that Lord Hailes “made a few slight verbal improvements in the copy he transmitted, and altered the hero's name to Edward, a name which, by the bye, never occurs in a Scottish ballad except where allusion is made to an English king” There is a Swedish ballad of the same character entitled Zhe Fratricides Lament and Dialogue with his Mother before he wanders ‘away from home for ever. ‘The form of a dialogue between a mother and her son is a favourite one in the old ballads, and “ Lord Donald” in Kinloch’s ‘Scottish Bailads and “Lord Randal” in Scott’s Minstrelsy bear some likeness to the ballad of “Edward.” The hero is supposed to have been poisoned by eating toads prepared as a dish of fishes, nd the last stanza of Kinloch’s ballad is as follows — “What will ye leave to your true love, Lord Donald, My son? What will ye leave to your true love, My jollie young man? ‘The tow and the halter for to hang on yon tree, And lat her hang there for the poysoning 0’ me.”)EDWARD, EDWARD. 83 UHY dois your brand sae drop wi’ bluid,* Edward, Edward ? Quhy dois your brand sae drop wi’ bluid? ‘And quhy sae sad gang yee, O ?* O, I hae killed my hauke sae guid, s Mither, mither: O, I hae killed my hauke sae guid : And I had nae mair bot hee,’ O. Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid, Edward, Edward. 10 Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid, My deir son I tell thee, O. O, I hae killed my reid-roan steid, Mither, Mither : O, I hae killed my reid-roan steid, 45 That erst was sae fair and free, O. . Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair, Edward, Edward : Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair, Sum other dule ye drie,* O. 20 O, Thae killed my fadir deir, Mither, mither: O, I hae killed my fadir deir, Alas! and wae is me, O! And quhatten penance wul ye drie® for that, 25 Edward, Edward ? And quhatten penance will ye drie for that ? My deir son, now tell me, O. [E why does your sword so drop with blood. and why so sad go ye. ¥ no other but he. * some other grief you suffer. § undergo.]84 EDWARD, EDWARD. Tle set my feit in yonder boat, Mither, mither : 30 Ile set my feit in yonder boat, And Ile fare ' ovir the sea, O. And quhat wul ye doe wi’ your towirs and your ha’? Edward, Edward ? And quhat wal ye doe wi’ your towirs and your ha’, 35 hat were sae fair to see, O? Tle let thame stand til they doun fa’,” Mither, mither : Tle let thame stand til they doun fa,’ For here nevir mair maun I bee, O. 40 And quhat wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife, Edward, Edward ? And quhat wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife, Quhan ye gang ovir the sea, O? The warldis room,* let thame beg throw life, 4s Mither, mither : The warldis room, let thame beg throw life, For thame nevir mair wul I see, O. And quhat wul ye leive to your ain mither deir, Edward, Edward ? so And quhat wul ye leive to your ain mither deir? My deir son, now tell me, O. The curse of hell frae me sall ye beir, Mither, mither : The curse of hell frae me sall ye beir, 5S Sic counseils ye gave to me, O. This curious song was transmitted to the editor by Sir David Dalrymple, Bart., late Lord Hailes. (! pass. hall. =? fall. * the world’s large.]KING ESTMERE. 85 VI. KING ESTMERE. yom-e=@HIS old Romantic Legend (which is given from two copies, one of them in the editors folio MS, but which’ contained very great variations), bears marks of considerable antiquity, and, perhaps, ought to have taken place of any in this volume. ' It would seem to have been written while part of Spain was in the hands of the Saracens or Moors: whose empire there was not fully extinguished before the year 1491. The Mahometans are spoken of in v. 49, &c., just in the same terms as in all other old romances. The author of the ancient Legend of Sér Bevis represents his hero, upon all occasions, breathing out defiance against “ Mahound and Termagaunte ;”* and so full of zeal for his religion, as to return the following polite message to a Paynim king’s fair daughter, who had fallen in love with him, and sent two Saracen knights to invite him to her bower, *] wyll not ones stirre off this grounde, To speake with an heathen hounde. Unchristen houndes, I rede you fle. Or I your harte bloud shall se.”} Indeed they return the compliment by calling him elsewhere “A christen hounde.”t ‘This was conformable to the real manners of the barbarous ages: perhaps the same excuse will hardly serve our bard, for that ‘Adland should be found lolling or leaning at his gate (v. 35) may be thought, perchance, a little out of character. And yet the great painter of manners, Homer, did not think it inconsistent with decorum to represent a king of the Taphians leaning at the gate of Ulysses to inquire for that monarch, when he touched at Ithaca as he was taking a voyage with a ship's cargo of iron to dispose in traffic.§ So little ought we to judge of ancient manners by our own, Before I conclude this article, I cannot help observing, that the * See a short Memoir at the end of this Ballad, Note t/t. + Sign C. ii. b. } Sign Ci. b. § Odyss. a. 105.LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI WHAT CAN ail thee, knight-at-arms, Alone and palely loitering? The sedge has withered from the lake, And no birds sing. O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, So haggard and so woe-begone? The squirrel’s granary is full, And the harvest’s done. I see a lily on thy brow, With anguish moist and fever-dew, And on thy cheeks a fading rose Fast withereth too. I met a lady in the meads, Full beautiful—a faery’s child, Her hair was long, her foot was light, And her eyes were wild. I made a garland for her head, And bracelets too, and fragrant zone; She looked at me as she did love, And made sweet moan. I set her on my pacing steed, And nothing else saw all day long, For sidelong would she bend, and sing A faery’s song. SELECTED POEMS 45She found me roots of relish sweet, And honey wild, and manna-dew, And sure in language strange she said— ‘I love thee true’. She took me to her Elfin grot, And there she wept and sighed full sore, And there I shut her wild wild eyes With kisses four. And there she lulléd me asleep, And there I dreamed—Ah! woe betide!— The latest dream I ever dreamt On the cold hill side. I saw pale kings and princes too, Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; They cried—‘La Belle Dame sans Merci Thee hath in thrall!” I saw their starved lips in the gloam, With horrid warning gapéd wide, And I awoke and found me here, On the cold hill’s side. And this is why I sojourn here, Alone and palely loitering, Though the sedge is withered from the lake, And no birds sing. KEATSSunday's motor cars jar the house. ‘When I’m away on work-days hear the rose-breast. Love the night, love the night and if on waking it rains: little drops of rest. Who was Mary Shelley? What was her name before she married? She eloped with this Shelley she rode a donkey till the donkey had to be carried. Mary was Frankenstein's creator his yellow eye before her husband was to drown Created the monster nights after Byron, Shelley talked the candle down. Who was Mary Shelley? She read Greek, Italian She bore a child Who died and yet another child who died 106 The Years Go ByCROSS My old man’s a white old man And my old mother's black. Ifever I cursed my white old man I take my curses back. If ever I cursed my black old mother And wished she were in hell, I'm sorry for that evil wish And now I wish her well. My old man died in a fine big house. My ma died in a shack. I wonder where I'm gonna die, Being neither white nor black?{020107.thursday} DAY 21 she went up the main road a ways she did she did a button fell from her one good dress sweat rolled slowly down her brow it did it did she looked and looked all around she did she didbut she never she never came back