The reader must have observed the strong resemblance which the Korrigan bear to the Elle-maids of Scandinavia. In like manner the Korred are very similar to the Trolls.[487] These are usually represented as short and stumpy with shaggy hair, dark wrinkled faces, little deep-set eyes, but bright as carbuncles. Their voice is cracked and hollow: their hands have claws like a cat's; their feet are horny like those of a goat. They are expert smiths and coiners; they are said to have great treasures in the _dolmen_[488] in which they dwell, and of which they are regarded as the builders. They dance around them by night, and wo to the belated peasant who, passing by, is forced to join in their roundel; he usually dies of exhaustion. Wednesday is their holiday; the first Wednesday in May their annual festival, which they celebrate with dancing, singing, and music. They have the same aversion to holy things as the Korrigan; like them, too, they can fortell events to come. The Korrid is always furnished with a large leathern purse, which is said to be full of gold; but if any one succeeds in getting it from him, he finds nothing in it but hair and a pair of scissors.

The Bretons also believe in Mermaids; they name them Morgan (_sea-women_) and Morverc'h (_sea-daughters_), and say that they draw down to their palaces of gold and crystal at the bottom of the sea or of ponds, those who venture imprudently too near the edge of the water. Like the mermaids they sing and comb their golden hair. In one of the ballads we read, "Fisher, hast thou seen the mermaid combing her hair, yellow as gold, by the noontide sun, at the edge of the water?" "I have seen the fair mermaid. I have also heard her singing; her songs were plaintive as the waves."[489]

In M. Villemarque's collection there are three ballads relating to the Korrigan and Korred. The following is a faithful translation of the first of them in the exact measure of the original. All the Breton poetry is rimed, very frequently in triads or tercets.

_Lord Nann and the Korrigan._

The Lord Nann and his bride so fair In early youth united were, In early youth divided were.

The lady lay-in yesternight Of twins, their skin as snow was white, A boy and girl, that glad his sight.

"What doth thy heart desire, loved one, For giving me so fair a son?

Say, and at once it shall be done.

"A woodcock from the pool of the glyn, Or roebuck from the forest green?"

"The roebuck's flesh is savoury, But for it thou to the wood should'st hie."

Lord Nann when he these words did hear, He forthwith grasped his oaken spear,

And vaulting on his coal-black steed Unto the green-wood hied with speed.

When he unto the wood drew nigh, A fair white doe he there did spy,

And after her such chase he made, The ground it shook beneath their tread.

And after her such chase made he, From his brows the water copiously

And from his horse's sides ran down.

The evening had now come on,

And he came where a streamlet flowed Fast by a Korrigan's abode;

And grassy turf spread all around.

To quench his thirst he sprang to ground.

The Korrig at her fount sat there A-combing of her long fair hair.

She combed it with a comb of gold-- These ladies ne'er are poor, we're told.

"Rash man," cried she, "how dost thou dare To come disturb my waters fair!

"Thou shalt unto me plight thy fay, Or seven years thou shalt waste away, Or thou shalt die ere the third day."

"To thee my faith plight will I ne'er, For I am married now a year.

"I shall not surely waste away, Nor shall I die ere the third day;

"I shall not die within three days, But when it unto God shall please."--

"Good mother, mine, if you love me, See that my bed made ready be, For I have ta'en a malady.

"Let not one word to my wife be told; In three days I shall lie in the mould, A Korrigan has thus foretold."

And when three days were past and gone, The young wife asked this question,--

"My mother-in-law, now tell me why The bells all ring thus constantly?

"And why the priests a low mass sing, All clad in white, as the bells ring?"

"Last night a poor man died whom we A lodging gave through charity."

"My mother-in-law, tell me, I pray, My Lord Nann whither is he gone away?"

"My daughter, to the town he's gone, To see thee he will come anon."

"Good mother-in-law, to church to fare, Shall I my red or blue gown wear?"

"The custom now is, daughter dear, At church always in black to appear."

As they crossed o'er the churchyard-wall, On her husband's grave her eye did fall.

"Who is now dead of our family, That thus fresh dug our ground I see?"

"Alas! my child, the truth can I Not hide: thy husband there doth lie."

On her two knees herself she cast And rose no more, she breathed her last.

It was a marvel to see, men say, The night that followed the day, The lady in earth by her lord lay,

To see two oak-trees themselves rear From the new-made grave into the air;

And on their branches two doves white, Who there were hopping gay and light;

Which sang when rose the morning-ray And then toward heaven sped away.

This ballad is very remarkable. Its similarity to that of Sir Olof, so celebrated in Scandinavia, and of which we have already given two variations out of fifteen, must strike every one; in its concluding stanzas also it resembles other Scandinavian and English ballads. On the other hand, the White Doe and the Korrigan at the fount remind us of the Lais of Marie de France. Our opinion on the whole is, that the ballad belongs to Scandinavia, whence it was brought at an early period--by the Normans, we might say only for its Christian air in both countries--and naturalised in the usual manner. It is rather strange that there is neither an English nor a Scottish version of it.

The next lay, which is entirely composed in tercets, is the story of a changeling. In order to recover her own child the mother is advised by the Virgin, to whom she has prayed, to prepare a meal for ten farm-servants in an egg-shell, which will make the Korrid speak, and she is then to whip him well till he cries, and when he does so he will be taken away. The woman does as directed: the Korr asks what she is about: she tells him: "For ten, dear mother, in an eggshell! I have seen the egg before I saw the white hen. I have seen the acorn before I saw the tree: I have seen the acorn and I have seen the shoot: I have seen the oak in the wood of Brezal, but never saw I such a thing as this." "Thou hast seen too many things, my son," replied she, and began to whip him, when one came crying, "Don't beat him, give him back to me; I have not done yours any injury. He is king in our country." When the woman went home she found her own child sleeping sweetly in the cradle. He opened his eyes and said, "Ah! mother, I have been a long time asleep!"

Among the Welsh legends above related, that of the Fairies Banished has some resemblance to this; but M. Villemarque says that he was told a changeling-story by the Glamorgan peasantry, precisely the same as the Breton legend. In it the changeling is heard muttering to himself in a cracked voice, "I have seen the acorn before I saw the oak: I have seen the egg before I saw the white hen: I have never seen the like of this." It is remarkable that these words form a rimed triad or tercet nearly the same with that in the Breton ballad,[490] whence M.

Villemarque is led to suspect that the legend is anterior to the seventh century, the epoch of the separation of the Britons of Wales and Armorica. But as changelings seem to have come from the North, we cannot consent to receive this theory. He also quotes from Geoffrey of Monmouth's Life of Merlin, "There is in this forest," said Merlin the Wild, "an oak laden with years: I saw it when it was beginning to grow ... I saw the acorn whence it rose, germinate and become a twig ... I have then lived a long time." This would, in our opinion, tend to show that this was an ordinary formula in the British language.

The third and last of those ballads tells, and not without humour, how Paskou-Hir, _i. e._, Long-Paskou, the tailor, one Friday evening, entered the abode of the Korred, and there dug up and carried home a concealed treasure. They pursued him, and came into the court-yard dancing with might and main, and singing,--

Dilun, dimeurs, dimerc'her Ha diriaou, ha digwener.