thy sight
Being, ah, exiled! disdaineth
Every other vulgar light."

The zeal of modern collectors has brought together a mass of material
which passes for folk-song. None of it is absolutely communal, for
the conditions of primitive lyric have long since been swept away;
nevertheless, where isolated communities have retained something of
the old homogeneous and simple character, the spirit of folk-song
lingers in survival. From Great Britain, from France, and particularly
from Germany, where circumstances have favored this survival, a few
folk-songs may now be given in inadequate translation. To go further
afield, to collect specimens of Italian, Russian, Servian, modern
Greek, and so on, would need a book. The songs which follow are
sufficiently representative for the purpose.

A pretty little song, popular in Germany to this day, needs no pompous
support of literary allusion to explain its simple pathos; still, it
is possible that one meets here a distant echo of the tragedy of
obstacles told in romance of Hero and Leander. When one hears this
song, one understands where Heine found the charm of his best
lyrics:--

Over a waste of water
The bonnie lover crossed,
A-wooing the King's daughter:
But all his love was lost.

Ah, Elsie, darling Elsie,
Fain were I now with thee;
But waters twain are flowing,
Dear love, twixt thee and me![31]

[31] Boehme, with music, page 94.

Even more of a favorite is the song which represents two girls in the
harvest-field, one happy in her love, the other deserted; the noise of
the sickle makes a sort of chorus. Uhland placed with the two stanzas
of the song a third stanza which really belongs to another tune; the
latter, however, may serve to introduce the situation:--

I heard a sickle rustling,
Ay, rustling through the corn:
I heard a maiden sobbing
Because her love was lorn.

"Oh let the sickle rustle!
I care not how it go;
For I have found a lover,
A lover,
Where clover and violets blow."

"And hast thou found a lover
Where clover and violets blow?
I stand here, ah, so lonely,
So lonely,
And all my heart is woe!"

Two songs may follow, one from France, one from Scotland, bewailing
the death of lover or husband. 'The Lowlands of Holland' was published
by Herd in his 'Scottish Songs.'[32] A clumsy attempt was made to fix
the authorship upon a certain youn