The Pirate
more moderately, taking the points and pummels one of the other, they
change ranks, and place themselves in an triagonal figure, and this they
call _Rosam_; and presently they dissolve it by drawing back their
swords and lifting them up, that upon every one's head there may be made
a square Rosa, and then by a most nimbly whisking their swords about
collaterally, they quickly leap back, and end the sport, which they
guide with pipes or songs, or both together; first by a more heavy, then
by a more vehement, and lastly, by a most vehement dancing. But this
speculation is scarce to be understood but by those who look on, how
comely and decent it is, when at one word, or one commanding, the whole
armed multitude is directed to fall to fight, and clergymen may exercise
themselves, and mingle themselves amongst others at this sport, because
it is all guided by most wise reason."
To the Primate's account of the sword-dance, I am able to add the words
sung or chanted, on occasion of this dance, as it is still performed in
Papa Stour, a remote island of Zetland, where alone the custom keeps its
ground. It is, it will be observed by antiquaries, a species of play or
mystery, in which the Seven Champions of Christendom make their
appearance, as in the interlude presented in "All's Well that Ends
Well." This dramatic curiosity was most kindly procured for my use by
Dr. Scott of Hazlar Hospital, son of my friend Mr. Scott of Mewbie,
Zetland. Mr. Hibbert has, in his Description of the Zetland Islands,
given an account of the sword-dance, but somewhat less full than the
following:
"WORDS USED AS A PRELUDE TO THE SWORD-DANCE, A DANISH OR NORWEGIAN
BALLET, COMPOSED SOME CENTURIES AGO, AND PRESERVED IN PAPA STOUR,
ZETLAND.
PERSONÆ DRAMATIS.[61]
(_Enter_ MASTER, _in the character of_ ST. GEORGE.)
Brave gentles all within this boor,[62]
If ye delight in any sport,
Come see me dance upon this floor,
Which to you all shall yield comfort.
Then shall I dance in such a sort,
As possible I may or can;
You, minstrel man, play me a Porte,[63]
That I on this floor may prove a man.
(_He bows, and dances in a line._)
Now have I danced with heart and hand,
Brave gentles all, as you may see,
For I have been tried in many a land,
As yet the truth can testify;
In England, Scotland, Ireland, France, Italy, and Spain,
Have I been tried with that good sword of steel.
(_Draws, and flourishes._)
Yet, I deny that ever a man did make me yield;
For in my body there is strength,
As by my manhood may be seen;
And I, with that good sword of length,
Have oftentimes in perils been,
And over champions I was king.
And by the strength of this right hand,
Once on a day I kill'd fifteen,
And left them dead upon the land.
Therefore, brave minstrel, do not care,
But play to me a Porte most light,
That I no longer do forbear,
But dance in all these gentles' sight;
Although my strength makes you abased,
Brave gentles all, be not afraid,
For here are six champions, with me, staid,
All by my manhood I have raised.
(_He dances._)
Since I have danced, I think it best
To call my brethren in your sight,
That I may have a little rest,
And they may dance with all their might;
With heart and hand as they are knights,
And shake their swords of steel so bright,
And show their main strength on this floor,
For we shall have another bout
Before we pass out of this boor.
Therefore, brave minstrel, do not care
To play to me a Porte most light,
That I no longer do forbear,
But dance in all these gentles' sight.
(_He dances, and then introduces his knights, as under._)
Stout James of Spain, both tried and stour,[64]
Thine acts are known full well indeed;
And champion Dennis, a French knight,
Who stout and bold is to be seen;
And David, a Welshman born,
Who is come of noble blood;
And Patrick also, who blew the horn,
An Irish knight, amongst the wood.
Of Italy, brave Anthony the good,
And Andrew of Scotland King;
St. George of England, brave indeed,
Who to the Jews wrought muckle tinte.[65]
Away with this!--Let us come to sport,
Since that ye have a mind to war,
Since that ye have this bargain sought,
Come let us fight and do not fear.
Therefore, brave minstrel, do not care
To play to me a Porte most light,
That I no longer do forbear,
But dance in all these gentles' sight.
(_He dances, and advances to JAMES of Spain._)
Stout James of Spain, both tried and stour,
Thine acts are known full well indeed,
Present thyself within our sight,
Without either fear or dread.
Count not for favour or for feid,
Since of thy acts thou hast been sure;
Brave James of Spain, I will thee lead,
To prove thy manhood on this floor.
(JAMES _dances_.)
Brave champion Dennis, a French knight,
Who stout and bold is to be seen,
Present thyself here in our sight,
Thou brave French knight,
Who bold hast been;
Since thou such valiant acts hast done,
Come let us see some of them now
With courtesy, thou brave French knight,
Draw out thy sword of noble hue.
(DENNIS _dances, while the others retire to a side_.)
Brave David a bow must string, and with awe
Set up a wand upon a stand,
And that brave David will cleave in twa.[66]
(DAVID _dances solus._)
Here is, I think, an Irish knight,
Who does not fear, or does not fright,
To prove thyself a valiant man,
As thou hast done full often bright;
Brave Patrick, dance, if that thou can.
(_He dances._)
Thou stout Italian, come thou here;
Thy name is Anthony, most stout;
Draw out thy sword that is most clear,
And do thou fight without any doubt;
Thy leg thou shake, thy neck thou lout,[67]
And show some courtesy on this floor,
For we shall have another bout,
Before we pass out of this boor.
Thou kindly Scotsman, come thou here;
Thy name is Andrew of Fair Scotland;
Draw out thy sword that is most clear,
Fight for thy king with thy right hand;
And aye as long as thou canst stand,
Fight for thy king with all thy heart;
And then, for to confirm his band,
Make all his enemies for to smart.--(_He dances._)
(_Music begins._)
FIGUIR.[68]
"The six stand in rank with their swords reclining on their shoulders.
The Master (St. George) dances, and then strikes the sword of James of
Spain, who follows George, then dances, strikes the sword of Dennis, who
follows behind James. In like manner the rest--the music playing--swords
as before. After the six are brought out of rank, they and the master
form a circle, and hold the swords point and hilt. This circle is danced
round twice. The whole, headed by the master, pass under the swords held
in a vaulted manner. They jump over the swords. This naturally places
the swords across, which they disentangle by passing under their right
sword. They take up the seven swords, and form a circle, in which they
dance round.
"The master runs under the sword opposite, which he jumps over
backwards. The others do the same. He then passes under the right-hand
sword, which the others follow, in which position they dance, until
commanded by the master, when they form into a circle, and dance round
as before. They then jump over the right-hand sword, by which means
their backs are to the circle, and their hands across their backs. They
dance round in that form until the master calls 'Loose,' when they pass
under the right sword, and are in a perfect circle.
"The master lays down his sword, and lays hold of the point of James's
sword. He then turns himself, James, and the others, into a clew. When
so formed, he passes under out of the midst of the circle; the others
follow; they vault as before. After several other evolutions, they throw
themselves into a circle, with their arms across the breast. They
afterwards form such figures as to form a shield of their swords, and
the shield is so compact that the master and his knights dance
alternately with this shield upon their heads. It is then laid down upon
the floor. Each knight lays hold of their former points and hilts with
their hands across, which disentangle by figuirs directly contrary to
those that formed the shield. This finishes the Ballet.
"EPILOGUE.
Mars does rule, he bends his brows,
He makes us all agast;[69]
After the few hours that we stay here,
Venus will rule at last.
Farewell, farewell, brave gentles all,
That herein do remain,
I wish you health and happiness
Till we return again. [_Exeunt._"
The manuscript from which the above was copied was transcribed from _a
very old one_, by Mr. William Henderson, Jun., of Papa Stour, in
Zetland. Mr. Henderson's copy is not dated, but bears his own signature,
and, from various circumstances, it is known to have been written about
the year 1788.
Note VIII., p. 299--THE DWARFIE STONE.
This is one of the wonders of the Orkney Islands, though it has been
rather undervalued by their late historian, Mr. Barry. The island of Hoy
rises abruptly, starting as it were out of the sea, which is contrary to
the gentle and flat character of the other Isles of Orkney. It consists
of a mountain, having different eminences or peaks. It is very steep,
furrowed with ravines, and placed so as to catch the mists of the
Western Ocean, and has a noble and picturesque effect from all points of
view. The highest peak is divided from another eminence, called the
Ward-hill, by a long swampy valley full of peat-bogs. Upon the slope of
this last hill, and just where the principal mountain of Hoy opens in a
hollow swamp, or corrie, lies what is called the Dwarfie Stone. It is a
great fragment of sandstone, composing one solid mass, which has long
since been detached from a belt of the same materials, cresting the
eminence above the spot where it now lies, and which has slid down till
it reached its present situation. The rock is about seven feet high,
twenty-two feet long, and seventeen feet broad. The upper end of it is
hollowed by iron tools, of which the marks are evident, into a sort of
apartment, containing two beds of stone, with a passage between them.
The uppermost and largest bed is five feet eight inches long, by two
feet broad, which was supposed to be used by the dwarf himself; the
lower couch is shorter, and rounded off, instead of being squared at the
corners. There is an entrance of about three feet and a half square, and
a stone lies before it calculated to fit the opening. A sort of skylight
window gives light to the apartment. We can only guess at the purpose of
this monument, and different ideas have been suggested. Some have
supposed it the work of some travelling mason; but the _cui bono_ would
remain to be accounted for. The Rev. Mr. Barry conjectures it to be a
hermit's cell; but it displays no symbol of Christianity, and the door
opens to the westward. The Orcadian traditions allege the work to be
that of a dwarf, to whom they ascribe supernatural powers, and a
malevolent disposition, the attributes of that race in Norse mythology.
Whoever inhabited this singular den certainly enjoyed
"Pillow cold, and sheets not warm."
I observed, that commencing just opposite to the Dwarfie Stone, and
extending in a line to the sea-beach, there are a number of small
barrows, or cairns, which seem to connect the stone with a very large
cairn where we landed. This curious monument may therefore have been
intended as a temple of some kind to the Northern Dii Manes, to which
the cairns might direct worshippers.
Note IX., p. 299.--CARBUNCLE ON THE WARD-HILL.
"At the west end of this stone, (_i. e._ the Dwarfie Stone,) stands an