The Franklin's Maid (From 'The White Company')

The franklin he hath gone to roam,
The franklin's maid she bides at home;
But she is cold, and coy, and staid,
And who may win the franklin's maid?

There came a knight of high renown
In bassinet and ciclatoun;
On bended knee full long he prayed -
He might not win the franklin's maid.

There came a squire so debonair,
His dress was rich, his words were fair.
He sweetly sang, he deftly played -
He could not win the franklin's maid.

There came a mercer wonder-fine,
With velvet cap and gaberdine;
For all his ships, for all his trade,
He could not buy the franklin's maid.

There came an archer bold and true,
With bracer guard and stave of yew;
His purse was light, his jerkin frayed -
Haro, alas! the franklin's maid!

Oh, some have laughed and some have cried,
And some have scoured the countryside;
But off they ride through wood and glade,
The bowman and the franklin's maid.

Arthur Conan Doyle

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was a British writer and physician, famous for creating the detective Sherlock Holmes. He was born on May 22, 1859, in Edinburgh, Scotland, and died on July 7, 1930. Although best known for his Holmes series, Doyle was a versatile author who wrote in various genres, including science fiction, historical novels, and plays. Doyle was also involved in politics and was an advocate for spiritualism. His works greatly influenced different literary genres, making him one of the most significant literary figures of his time.

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English

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The Maids Of Attitash

In sky and wave the white clouds swam,
And the blue hills of Nottingham
Through gaps of leafy green
Across the lake were seen,

When, in the shadow of the ash
That dreams its dream in Attitash,
In the warm summer weather,
Two maidens sat together.

They sat and watched in idle mood
The gleam and shade of lake and wood;
The beach the keen light smote,
The white sail of a boat;

Swan flocks of lilies shoreward lying,
In sweetness, not in music, dying;
Hardback, and virgin's-bower,
And white-spiked clethra-flower.

With careless ears they heard the plash
And breezy wash of Attitash,
The wood-bird's plaintive cry,
The locust's sharp reply.

And teased the while, with playful band,
The shaggy dog of Newfoundland,

John Greenleaf Whittier

The Baffled Knight

The Text is from Ravenscroft's Deuteromelia (1609), reprinted almost verbatim in Tom Durfey's Pills to Purge Melancholy.


The Story was sufficiently popular not only to have been revived, at the end of the seventeenth century, but to have had three other 'Parts' added to it, the whole four afterwards being combined into one broadside.

In similar Spanish, Portuguese, and French ballads, the damsel escapes by saying she is a leper, or the daughter of a leper, or otherwise diseased. Much the same story is told in Danish and German ballads.


THE BAFFLED KNIGHT

    1.
    Yonder comes a courteous knight,
        Lustely raking over the lay;
    He was well ware of a bonny lasse,
        As she came wand'ring over the way.
    Then she sang do...

Frank Sidgwick

The Landlord's Tale - The Wayside Inn - Part Third
THE RHYME OF SIR CHRISTOPHER

It was Sir Christopher Gardiner,
Knight of the Holy Sepulchre,
From Merry England over the sea,
Who stepped upon this continent
As if his august presence lent
A glory to the colony.

You should have seen him in the street
Of the little Boston of Winthrop's time,
His rapier dangling at his feet
Doublet and hose and boots complete,
Prince Rupert hat with ostrich plume,
Gloves that exhaled a faint perfume,
Luxuriant curls and air sublime,
And superior manners now obsolete!

He had a way of saying things
That made one think of courts and kings,
And lords and ladies of high degree;
So that not having been at court
Seemed something very little short
Of treason or lese-majesty,
Such an accomplished...
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

King Arthur And The Captive Maiden.
(Translated From The Gaelic. Taken down in Gaelic by Dewar.)

King Arthur on a journey went,
His men and he on hunting bent.

Came to the hill for victories known;
He, and Sir Balva, armed alone.

The King of Britain dreamed at night
Of fairest maid 'neath Heaven's light.

Her face's beauteous hues so clear
More than all gold to him were dear.

Yet all unknown where dwelt the maid,
His doubt and awe the search delayed.

For better were a battle stern
Than, blindly wandering, still to yearn.

Then spoke Sir Balva, kindly, meek,
"It is my wish this maid to seek.
Let me now take my Squire and hound,
And search until the maid be found."

Then seven weeks, with toil and pain,
We travelled wearily the main.

John Campbell

The Elphin Knight
The Text is from a broadside in black letter in the Pepysian Library at Cambridge; bound up at the end of a book published in 1673.

The Story of this ballad but poorly represents the complete form of the story as exhibited in many German and other ballads, where alternate bargaining and riddling ensues between a man and a maid. This long series of ballads is akin to the still longer series in which the person upon whom an impossible task is imposed is considered to have got the mastery by retaliating with another impossible task.

The opening stanzas of this ballad correspond closely with those of Lady Isabel and the Elf-Knight.

THE ELPHIN KNIGHT

My plaid awa, my plaid awa,
And ore the hill and far awa,
And far awa ...
Frank Sidgwick

Buxom Joan
A soldier and a sailor,
A tinker and a tailor,
Had once a doubtful strife, sir,
To make a maid a wife, sir,
Whose name was Buxom Joan.
For now the time was ended,
When she no more intended
To lick her lips at men, sir,
And gnaw the sheets in vain, sir,
And lie o' nights alone.

The soldier swore like thunder,
He loved her more than plunder;
And showed her many a scar, sir,
That he had brought from far, sir,
With fighting for her sake.
The tailor thought to please her,
With offering her his measure.
The tinker too with mettle,
Said he could mend her kettle,
And stop up every leak.

But while these three were prating,
The sailor slily waiting,
Thought if it came about, sir,
That they should all fall ou...
William Congreve