THE BLOOD-STAINED SON. — See A translation, nearly word for word, of Der Blutige Sohn, printed from oral tradition in Schröter's Finnische Runen, (Finnisch und Deutsch,) ed. 1834, p. 151. "SAY whence com❜st thou, say whence com'st thou, Merry son of mine ?” "From the lake-side, from the lake-side, O dear mother mine." "What hast done there, what hast done there, Merry son of mine ? ” "Steeds I watered, steeds I watered, O dear mother mine." "Why thus clay-bedaubed thy jacket, Merry son of mine ?” "Steeds kept stamping, steeds kept stamping, O dear mother mine.” 10 "But how came thy sword so bloody, Merry son of mine ?” "I have stabbed my only brother, O dear mother mine." "Whither wilt thou now betake thee, Merry son of mine ?” "Far away to foreign countries, O dear mother mine." “Where leav'st thou thy gray-haired father, Merry son of mine?” "Let him chop wood in the forest, Never wish to see me more, O dear mother mine." “Where leav'st thou thy gray-haired mother, Merry son of mine?” "Let her sit, her flax a-picking, Never wish to see me more, O dear mother mine." “Where leav'st thou thy wife so youthful, Merry son of mine? "Let her deck her, take another, Never wish to see me more, O dear mother mine.” "Where leav'st thou thy son so youthful, Merry son of mine ?” "He to school, and bear the rod there, [Never wish to see me more,] O dear mother mine." 15 20 25 80 35 40 "Where leav'st thou thy youthful daughter, Merry son of mine ? "She to the wood and eat wild berries, Never wish to see me more, O dear mother mine.” "Home when com'st thou back from roaming, Merry son of mine ? ” "In the north when breaks the morning, O dear mother mine." 45 "In the north when breaks the morning, 50 Merry son of mine? "When stones dance upon the water, O dear mother mine." "When shall stones dance on the water, Merry son of mine?' "When a feather sinks to the bottom, O dear mother mine.' " "When shall feathers sink to the bottom, Merry son of mine?” "When we all shall come to judgment, O dear mother mine." 55 60 THE TWA BROTHERS. See p. 220. From Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 61. THERE were twa brothers at the scule, "It's will ye play at the stane-chucking, Or will ye gae up to yon hill head, “I winna play at the stane-chucking, Nor will I play at the ba❜; But I'll gae up to yon bonnie green hill, They warsled up, they warsled down, Till John fell to the ground; A dirk fell out of William's pouch, And wash my bluidy wounds o'er and o’er, He's lifted his brother upon his back, Ta'en him to yon well fair; He's wash'd his bluidy wounds o'er and o’er, But they bleed ay mair and mair. "Tak ye aff my Holland sark, And rive it gair by gair, 20 And row it in my bluidy wounds, 25 And they'll ne'er bleed nae mair." He's taken aff his Holland sark, But they bleed ay mair and mair. "Tak now aff my green cleiding, And row me saftly in; And tak me up to yon kirk style, Whare the grass grows fair and green.” He's taken aff the green cleiding, And rowed him saftly in; He's laid him down by yon kirk style, Whare the grass grows fair and green. "What will ye say to your father dear, When ye gae hame at e'en ?” "I'll say ye're lying at yon kirk style, Whare the grass grows fair and green.” "O no, O no, my brother dear, O you must not say so; 30 35 40 |