That wereth on a couerchief or a calle,1 "Mercy," quod she, "my sovereyn lady 7 For thogh that I be foul, oold, and poore I nolde for al the metal, ne for oore, That under erthe is grave, or lith above, But-if thy wyf I were and eek thy love." "My love?" quod he. "Nay, my Allas, that any of my nacion And taketh his olde wyf and gooth to bedde. Now wolden som men seye paraventure That for my necligence I do no cure 8 To tellen yow the joye and a tharray That at the feeste was that ilke day; 220 To which thyng shortly answere I shal. I seye ther nas no joye ne feeste at al; Ther nas but hevynesse and muche sorwe. For prively he wedded hire on a morwe,9 And al day after hidde hym as an owle; Pryvee and apert, and moost entendeth So wo was hym, his wyf looked so foule. ay Why fare ye thus with me this firste Lo, in swich maner rym is Dantes tale: And it shal been amended, if I may." "Amended?" quod this knyght. "Allas! nay, nay! It wol nat been amended nevere mo! Thou art so loothly, and so oold also, And ther-to comen of so lough a kynde, That litel wonder is thogh I walwe and wynde.2 So wolde God myn herte wolde breste!" "Is this," quod she, "the cause of youre unreste?" "Ye, certeinly," quod he, "no wonder is." "Now, sire," quod she, "I koude amende al this, 250 270 Bitwix this and the mount of Kaukasous, And lat men shette the dores and go thenne, Yet wolde the fyr as faire lye and brenne As twenty thousand men myghte it Heere may ye se wel how that genterye May understonde that Jhesus, hevene Alwey, as dooth the fyr, lo! in his kynde. For, God it woot, men may we often fynde A lordes sone do shame and vileynye; And he that wole han pris of his gentrye, For he was born of a gentil hous, And hadde hise eldres noble and vertuous, And nel hym selven do no gentil dedis, Ne folwen his gentil auncestre that deed is, He nys nat gentil, be he duc or erl; For vileyns synful dedes make a cherl. For gentillesse nys but renomee1 300 He that coveiteth is a povere wight, Verray poverte, it syngeth proprely; Juvenal seith of poverte myrily: Of thyne auncestres, for hire heigh "The povre man, whan he goth by the bountee,2 Which is a strange 3 thyng to thy persone. Thy gentillesse cometh fro God allone; Thanne comth oure verray gentillesse of grace. It was no thyng biquethe us with oure place. 6 310 Thenketh hou noble, as seith Valerius,* Al were it that myne auncestres weren rude, Yet may the hye God, and so hope I, Grante me grace to lyven vertuously; Thanne am I gentil whan that I bigynne To lyven vertuously and weyve synne. 320 And ther-as ye of poverte me repreeve, The hye God on whom that we bileeve In wilful poverte chees to lyve his lyf. And certes every man, mayden, or wyf Now ther ye seye that I am foul and old. "Kys me," quod she, "we be no lenger wrothe; Than drede you noght to been a coke- For, by my trouthe, I wol be to yow wold; 1 For filthe and eelde, al-so moot I thee, thynges tweye, To han me foul and old til that I deye, Or in som oother place, may wel be. 370 Now chese your selven wheither that yow liketh." This knyght avyseth hym and sore siketh, But atte laste he seyde in this manere: And thus they lyve, unto hir lyves ende, In parfit joye; and Jhesu Crist us sende Housbondes meeke, yonge, fressh a bedde, And grace toverbyde hem that we wedde. And eek I pray Jhesu shorte hir lyves That wol nat be governed by hir wyves; And olde and angry nygardes of dispence, God sende hem soone verray pestilence. THE POPULAR BALLAD A BALLAD is "a song which tells a story." It belongs to oral as opposed to written literature, and has certain well-marked characteristics that serve readily to differentiate it from all other kinds of narrative poetry. First, it is "popular," that is, the property of the people. The ballads are all anonymous. Their authorship has long since been forgotten. They are often thought to be the product of a homogeneous group composing under the impulse of a recent occurrence or a common emotion. This is not impossible; indeed, the process has been observed to-day. In a recent collection of ballads sung by the Maine lumberjacks the editor quotes one of the men, from whom he obtained a ballad, as to their origin: "Well," he said, “I will tell you. Something happens. Then, at night, when the fellows are gathered around the fire, some one, who can sing better than the rest, starts a song, and the rest chip in. Each adds a little, some make changes and additions, until the song is made. Probably one hundred and fifty took part in making that song." One need not think that all ballads have had such a communal origin. Many were doubtless composed by individuals. But they soon became common property; and since they were not written down but carried in the memory and transmitted by word of mouth from generation to generation, they have undergone changes through repetition by many singers until, as we have them to-day, they are truly the product of the people. This popular transmission of the ballad is responsible for most of its other special characteristics. The simple stanza forms, the frequent refrains, the repetition of stock phrases and often of whole stanzas, the complete objectivity and impersonality of the narrative, the brevity which results from telling only the essential points in the story and leaving the rest to the imagination, these are obviously the effects of folk transmission. Other folk characteristics are equally apparent, such as the frank acceptance of the supernatural, the simple-minded credulity that is content with gross improbabilities in the plot, the lavish reference to gold, silver, and precious stones to heighten the effect, and the blunt representation of tragedy and death unsentimentalized. It is a mistake to expect in the ballad the polish of later, more sophisticated art forms. Ballad art is wholly untutored, instinctive. The English and Scottish popular ballads should be judged for what they are; for of their kind there is nothing finer in the literature of any country. |