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A variant of the riddle flyting, very interesting in the present case, matches one question or demand not by its answer by by another question or demand. Usually these alternate; but in "The Elfin Knight" a clever maid wins her victory, baffling the elf, by a torrent and cumulation of desire for impossible things in answer to his request for a sark without any cut or hem, made without knife, shears, needle and thread. "Plow," she says, "plow with your horn my land by the sea, sow it with your corn, build a cart of stone and lime and let Robin Redbreast draw it home, barn it in a mouse-hole, thresh it in the sole of your shoe, winnow it in the palm of your hand, and sack it in your glove!"
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Commerce of mortal with creatures of the other world is among the oldest themes in story. "Thomas Rhymer" (note 1), one of the ballads recited by that very useful person, Mrs. Brown of Falkland, and also told as a romace in the poem "Thomas of Erceldoune," there mingled with prophecy and politics, is based on the tale of a man who is favored with a fairy's love and with an excursion to the fairy world. To kiss a fairy or a ghost, as we learn from other ballads, puts a mortal within the jurisdiction of the dark powers; if he eats food in fairyland, moreover, he will never come back to earth. In our ballad the "queen of Elfland" very considerately takes with her a mortal loaf and "claret wine" as Thomas's refreshment; for True Thomas must come back, and be the prophet of Tweedside, after seven years in the lower world. As may be supposed, the theme of this ballad has almost endless connections with romance, tale, and myth; enough for our purposes that it tells simply and prettily the story of True Thomas's meeting with the elf-queen, whom he takes at first for the Holy Virgin, his kisses, the long journey in darkness near the roar of the sea, and talk by the way.
In "Tam Lin," considerably touched by Burns, another old theme gets ballad treatment. Janet has a tryst at Carterhaugh, a place where Ettrick and Yarrow join, with no earthly knight, but with an elfin grey. "Who are you?" she askes him, against the ancient law; but Tam is a mortal, carried off by the Queen of Fairies. To rescue him, Janet must pull him down at midnight from horseback in the fairy ride. He turns to various shapes in her arms, esk, adder, bear, lion, red-hot iron, burning brand; then, as he has directed, she throws him into "well water," a kind of baptism, and he is one again "a naked knight." Jenny, blithe as a bird, covers him with her green mantle; and the Queen of the Fairies vents her vain rage from a bush of broom.
Less potent by title, but here more dangerous, is the mermaid who is beloved and then deserted by Clerk Colvill, or Colvin; she has many relatives in European tales, and many ancestors in legend and myth. The Scottish ballad, another of Mrs. Brown's recitations, is effective if imperfect. The clerk promises his new-wed wife not to go near the Wall o'Stream and visit the mermaiden again. He does it, of course, and finds the mermaid washing a sark of silk, bides with her, and feels cruel pains in his head. "Cut a strip from my sark, and bind it about your head; you will be cured," says she; but he is killed. At first he seeks to slay her, but she changes merrily to her fish-form and disappears in the stream. He rides sadly back to die near mother, brother, and wife.
The tables, however, are turned in a pretty little ballad (note 2) from Shetland, with an ending suggestive of Heine in his favorite sudden close. A woman is rocking her child, and sings to it that she would fain know its father. Up starts one who claims that honor, however grimly he may look.
"`I am a man upo the lan, An I am a silkie in the sea.' ... "`It was na weel,' quo the maiden fair, `It was na weel, indeed,' quo she, `That the great Silkie of Sule Skerrie Suld hae come and aught a bairn to me.' "Now he has taen a purse of goud, And he has put it upo her knee, Sayin, `Gie to me my little young son, An tak thee thy nourris-fee. "`An it sall come to pass on a simmer's day, When the sun shines het on evera stane, That I will tak my little son, And teach him for to swim the faem. "`An thu sall marry a proud gunner, An a proud gunner I'm sure he'll be; An the very first schot that ere he schoots, He'll schoot baith my young son and me."
Finally, in a ballad which tells how closely the singing of it is knit in with its very being, but which is only a fragment, we have the mortal woman yearning for her mortal baby from the exile of Elfland, whither she has been taken to nurse the elf-queen's bairn. The repetitions lead up to the queen's promise that when the bairn stands, the nurse may go back home. The musical opening stanzas have been already quoted above (note 3).
"Hind Etin," another ballad of the union of mortal and elf, has suffered severely in tradition; in Scandinavian versions it is effective enough.
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In "Allison Gross," a witch of that name turns a girl into an ugly worm; but the Queen of Fairies releases her.
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"King Orfeo," of course, comes directly from medieval romance; but the old story of Orpheus and Eurydice is here, changed in name and place, but still more changed by its genuine and traditional ballad setting. It may be quoted in part, omitting the almost unitelligible Scandinavian refrain. A kinglives in the east, a lady in the west. Presumably she is wooed and won, but tradition, or the singer's memory, is silent about that. The king goes hunting, leaving his "Lady Isabel" alone, and at last learns her fate: the king of Faery has pierced her bosom with his dart. Some verses are lost, in which he sees her among fairy folk, follows, and comes to a gray stone.
"Dan he took oot his pipes ta play, Bit sair his hert wi' dol an wae. "And first he palyed da notes o'noy, An dan he played da notes o' joy. "An dan he played da god gabber reel, Dat meicht ha' made a sick hert hale. . . . . . . . . . "`Noo come ye in inta wir ha', (note 4) And come ye in among wis a'.' "Now he's gaen in inta dar ha', An he's gaen in among dem a'. "Dan he took out his pipes to play, Bit sair his hert wi' dol an wae. "An first he played da notes o' noy, An dan he played da notes o' joy. "An dan he played da god gabber reel, Dat meicht ha' made a sick hert hale. "`Noo tell to us what ye will hae: What sall we gie you for your play? "`What I will hae I will you tell, An dat's me lady Isabel.' "`Yees tak your lady, an yees gaeng hame, An' yees be king ower a' your ain.' "He's taen his lady, an' he's gaen hame, An' noo he's king ower a' his ain."Our interest here is aroused in the concentration upon a single situation, with thin strips of narrative at beginning and end, and in the inevitable structure of the piece. The refrain must not be forgotten; and one would feel no surpise upon hearing that the ballad was a real ballad, danced and acted as well as sung. In any case, there is the story of Orpheus,--or half of it,--in Shetland; and it is a purely traditional, oral ballad. When, hwoever, a sacred legend grew popular in verse and traditional, it was pretty sure to be written down.
Note 2: The Great Silkie (seal) of Sule Skerry, dictated in 1852 by an old lady of Shetland.
Note 3: Child, no. 40, The Queen of Elfan's
Nourice
...where a mother has been "carried off, four days
after bearing a son, to serve as a nurse in the elf-queen's family."
"`I heard a cow low, a bonnie cow low, An' a cow low down in yon glen; Lang, lang will my young song greet Or his mither bid him come ben. "`I heard a cow low, a bonnie cow low, An' a cow low down in yon fauld; Lang, lang will my young song reet Or his mither take him frae cauld.
Note 4: A messenger has come behind the gray stone, and asked him into the hillside.