I hope, at any rate, that in presenting each ballad as _one_, and reconstructing it sometimes from many versions, I have kept pretty constantly to the idea, of which Professor Ker[4] says--‘The truth is that the Ballad is an Idea, a Poetical Form, which can take up any matter, and does not leave that matter as it was before.’ If the reader interrogate me concerning this Idea of the Ballad, as Mr. Pecksniff demanded of Mrs. Todgers her Notion of a Wooden Leg, Professor Ker has my answer prepared:--
In spite of Socrates and his logic we may venture to say, in answer to the question ‘What is a ballad?’--‘A Ballad is _The Milldams of Binnorie_ and _Sir Patrick Spens_ and _The Douglas Tragedy_ and _Lord Randal_ and _Childe Maurice_, and things of that sort.’
There the reader has it, without need of the definition or of the historical account which this Preface must not attempt. Its author, no doubt, is destined to consign, some day, and ‘come to dust’ with more learned editors: but meanwhile, if one ask ‘What is a Ballad?’--I answer, It is these things; and it is
About the dead hour o’ the night She heard the bridles ring. (_Tam Lin_)
But this ladye is gone to her chamber, Her maydens following bright. (_Sir Cawline_)
‘O we were sisters, sisters seven; We were the fairest under heaven.’ (_Cospatrick_)
‘I see no harm by you, Margaret, Nor you see none by me.’ (_Fair Margaret and Sweet William_)
In somer, when the shawes be sheyne, And leves be large and long. (_Robin Hood and the Monk_)
O there was horsing, horsing in haste, And cracking of whips out owre the lee. (_Archie of Cawfield_)
And there did he see brave Captain Ogilvie A-training of his men on the green. (_The Duke of Gordon’s Daughter_)
Like the Clown in _Twelfth Night_, it can sing both high and low: but the note is unmistakable whether it sing high:
O cocks are crowing on merry middle-earth; I wot the wild fowls are boding day. (_Clerk Saunders_)
Half-owre, half-owre to Aberdour, ’Tis fifty fathoms deep; And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens, Wi’ the Scots lords at his feet! (_Sir Patrick Spens_)
‘O Earl Bran’, I see your heart’s bloud!’-- _Ay lally, o lilly lally_ ‘It’s na but the glent o’ my scarlet hood’ _All i’ the night sae early._ (_Earl Brand_)