BOM'S STANDARD LIBRARY. OF ANCIENT ENGLISH POETRY. VOL. I. EELIQUES OF ANCIENT ENGLISH POETEY: CONSISTING OF OLD HEROIC BALLADS, SONGS, AND OTHER PIECES OF OUR EARLIER POETS; TOGETHER WITH SOME FF.W OF LATER DATE. BY THOMAS PERCY, LORD BISHOP or DROMOBB. EDITED BY J. V. PRICHARD. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON: GEORGE BELL & SONS, YORK ST., COVENT GARDEN, AND NEW YORK. 1892. LONDON : REPRINTED PROM THE STEREOTYPE PLATES BY WM. CLOWES & SONS, LTD., STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS. Annex 1181 p4-lr to THE RIGHT HONOURABLE ELIZABETH COUNTESS OF NOETHUMBEELAND : IN HEB OWN RIGHT BAEONESS PERCY, LUCY. POYNINGS, FITZ-PAYNE, BRYAN, AND LATIMEB. MADAM, THOSE writers who solicit the protection of the noble and the great are often exposed to censure by the impropriety of their addresses : a remark that will perhaps be too readily applied to him who, having nothing better to offer than the rude Songs oi ancient Minstrels, aspires to the patronage of the Countess of Northumberland, and hopes that the barbarous productions of unpolished ages can obtain the approbation or the notice of her, who adorns courts by her presence, and diffuses elegance by her example. But this impropriety, it is presumed, will disappear, when it is declared that these poems are presented to your Lady- ship, not as labours of art, but as effusions of nature, showing the first efforts of ancient genius, and exhibiting the customs and opinions of remote ages, of ages that had been almost lost to memory, had not the gallant deeds of your illustrious Ancestors preserved them from oblivion. VI DEDICATION. No active or comprehensive mind can forbear some atten- tion to the reliques of antiquity : it is prompted by natural curiosity to survey the progress of life and manners, and to inquire by what gradations barbarity was civilized, grossnesg refined, and ignorance instructed ; but this curiosity, Madam, must be stronger in those who, like your Ladyship, can remark in every period the influence of some great Pro- genitor, and who still feel in their effects the transactions and events of distant centuries. By such Bards, Madam, as I am now introducing to your presence, was the infancy of genius nurtured and advanced ; by such were the minds of unlettered warriors softened and enlarged ; by such was the memory of illustrious actions preserved and propagated ; by such were the heroic deeds of the Earls of NORTHUMBERLAND sung at festivals in the hall of ALNWICK : and those Songs which the bounty of your ancestors rewarded, now return to your Ladyship by a kind of hereditary right ; and, I flatter myself, will find such reception as is usually shown to poets and historians by those whose consciousness of merit makes it their interest to be long remembei 3d. I am, Madam, Your Ladyship's most humble and most devoted servant, THOMAS PERCY. MDCCLXV. ADYEETISEMENT TO THE EDITION OF 1876. As early >as the year 1794, when only the fourth edition of the Reliques had appeared, the Rev. Thomas Percy, acting as assistant-editor to his uncle, the Bishop of Dromore, hinted at the difficulty attendant upon such a composition as a collection of poems from a mutilated and incorrect manu- script. At that date Bishop Percy, his nephew, and a few friends were alone enabled to pass this judgment. To-day, however, the concealed manuscript is the property of the British Museum, its masterly edition 1 by Messrs. Hales and Furnivall rests in the hands of the public, and our knowledge of the original poems enables us to appreciate the extraordinary ingenuity displayed by the Bishop in his manipulation of the forty-five numbers extracted from his Folio Manuscript ; nor is our admiration for his poetic genius other than redoubled by the discovery. The Folio Manuscript itself, which has been too closely connected in the general mind with the Beliques, consider- ing that the latter contains only about one-sixth of the contents of the former, is a narrow book, about fifteen and a half inches long by five and a half wide, which has been torn and cut, and is deficient in many parts. It consists of a mass of some two hundred Sonnets, Ballads, Historical Songs, and Metrical Eomances, transcribed, we are 1 Bishop Percy's Folio Manuscript. Ballads and Romances. Edited by C. W. Hales, M.A., and F. J. Furnivall, M.A. 4 vols. (Triibner & Co. 1*68.) YU1 ADVERTISEMENT. assured, " from defective copies, or the imperfect recitation of illiterate singers ; so that a considerable portion of the song or narrative is sometimes omitted, and miserable trash or nonsense not unfrequently introduced into pieces of considerable merit." 2 Mr. Furnivall fixes the date of the handwriting to the year 1650, or thereabouts, and observes, " The dialect of the copies of the MS. seems to have been Lancashire." 3 Who this copier may have been still remains a mystery. Percy's suggestion that it was Thomas Blount has been dismissed as incredible. Concerning the treatment of the text in Percy's selections, we have Mr. Furnivall's word that the Reverend Editor " looked upon it as a young woman from the country with unkempt locks, whom he had to fit for fashionable society." 4 Be that as it may, the Beliques have admirably served their purpose ; they have passed through at least thirty editions in various parts of the world ; they rank among those works which have supported popularity for more than a century, and they may make their vaunt of having aroused the " Wizard of the North " to exclaim, " The first time I could scrape a few shillings together, which were not common occurrences with me, I bought unto myself a copy of the beloved volumes : nor do I believe I ever read a book half so frequently, or with half the enthusiasm." 5 The endeavour of the present Editor has been in no way critical, nor has his end in view been the satisfaction of the "judicious antiquary" so much as the desire to effect a correct reproduction of the Beliques as put forth during Percy's life. Consequently, the four earliest editions have been carefully * Advertisement to the fourtn edition of the Heliqvcs, 1794. * Percy's Folio MS. i., xiii. 4 Percy's Folio MS. i., xvi. * Lockhart's Life of Scott, chap. i. ADVERTISEMENT. IX collated with the Folio Manuscript, and with Professor Child's English and Scottish Ballads (edit. 1857, Boston). The result is, a refinement and correction of the text, an improvement in the punctuation, and an enlarged Glossary. A comprehensive Index has also been prepared. The original three volumes appear in two, though Percy's arrangement of Books remains unaltered and consecutive. A few explanatory foot-notes, the fruit of late research, increase the already copious stock, but the paternity of all such is distinctly noted. The work, then, of revision and addition merely aims at heightening tho intrinsic merit of the early editions and at assisting in making the Reliques of 1875 an improved re-cast. THS EDITOR. Oct. 1875. PREFACE. THE reader is here presented with select remains of our ancient English Bards and Minstrels, an order of men who were once greatly respected by our ancestors, and contributed to soften the roughness of a martial and unlettered people by their songs and by their music. The greater part of them are extracted from an ancient folio MS. in the Editor's possession, which contains near two hundred Poems, Songs, and Metrical Romances. This manuscript was written about the middle of the last century ; but contains compositions of all times and dates, from the ages prior to Chaucer, to the conclusion of the reign of Charles I. 1 This manuscript was shown to several learned and in- genious friends, who thought the contents too curious to be consigned to oblivion, and importuned the possessor to select some of them, and give them to the press. As most of them are of great simplicity, and seem to have been merely written for the people, he was long in doubt whether, in the present state of improved literature, they could be deemed worthy the attention of the public. At length the importunity of his friends prevailed, and he could refuse nothing to such judges as the author of The Rambler, and the late Mr. Shenstone. 1 Chaucer quotes the old romance of " Libius Disconius," and some others, which are found in this MS. See the Essay in vol. ii. p. 89, et seq. It also contains several Songs relating to the Civil War in the last century, but not one that alludes to the Restoration. Ill PREFACE. Accordingly, such specimens of ancient poetry have been selected as either show the gradation of our language, ex- hibit the progress of popular opinions, display the peculiar manners and customs of former ages, or throw light on our earlier classical poets. They are here distributed into VOLUMES, each of which contains an independent SERIES of poei is, arranged chiefly according to the order of time, and s ^wing the gradual improvements of the English language ad poetry from the earliest ages down to the present. Each VOLUME, or SERIES, is divided into three BOOKS, to afford so many pauses or resting-places to the reader, and to assist him in distin- guishing between the productions of the earlier, the middle, and the latter times. In a polished age like the present, I am sensible that many of these reliques of antiquity will require great allow- ances to be made for them. Yet have they, for the most part, a pleasing simplicity, and many artless graces, which, in the opinion of no mean critics, 2 have been thought to compensate for the want of higher beauties, and if they do not dazzle the imagination, are frequently found to interest the heart. To atone for the rudeness of the more obsolete poems, each volume concludes with a few modern attempts in the same kind of writing ; and to take off from the tedionsness of the longer narratives, they are everywhere intermingled with little elegant pieces of the lyric kind. Select ballads in the old Scottish dialect, most of them of the first-rate merit, are also interspersed among those of our ancient English minstrels ; and the artless productions of these old rhapsodists are occa- sionally confronted with specimens of the composition of contemporary poets of a higher class, of those who had all 2 Mr. Addison, Mr. Dryden, and the witty Lord Dorset, &c. See the Fpectatcn; No. 70. To these might be added many eminent judges now alive. The learned Selden appears also to have been fond of collecting these old things. See below. I'llKFACK. Xlll the advantages of learning in the times in which they lived, and who wrote for fame and for posterity. Yet perhaps the palni will be frequently due to the old strolling Minstrels, who composed their rhymes to be sung to their harps, and who looked no further than for preseiit applause and present subsistence. The reader will find this class of men occasionally de- scribed in the following volumes, and some particulars rela- ting to their history in an Essay subjoired to this Preface. It will be proper here to give a short account of the other Collections that were consulted, and to make my acknow- ledgments to those gentlemen who were so kind as to impart extracts from them ; for while this Selection was making, a great number of ingenious friends took a share in the work, and explored many large repositories in its favour. The first of these that deserved notice was the Pepysian Library at Magdalen College, Cambridge. Its founder, Samuel Pepys, Esq., 3 Secretary of the Admiralty in the reigns of Charles II. and James II., had made a large collec- tion of ancient English ballads, near 2000 in number, which he has left pasted in five volumes in folio ; besides garlands and other smaller miscellanies. This Collection, he tells us, was " begun by Mr. Selden ; improved by the addition of many pieces elder thereto in time ; and the whole continued down to the year 1700 ; when the form peculiar till then thereto, viz. of the black-letter with pictures, seems (for cheapness' sake) wholly laid aside for that of the white-letter without pictures." In the Ashmole Library at Oxford is a small collection of ballads made by Anthony Wood in the year 1676, containing somewhat more than 200. Many ancient popular poems are also preserved in the Bodleian Library. s A life of our curious collector, Mr. Pepys, may be seen in " The Continuation of Mr. Collier's Supplement to his great Dictionary, 1715, at the end of vol. iii. folio. Art. PEP." XIV PREFACE. The archives of the Antiquarian Society at London contain it multitude of curious political poems in large folio volumes, digested under the several reigns of Henry VIII., Edward VI., Mary, Elizabeth, James I., &c. In the British Museum is preserved a large treasure of ancient English poems in MS., besides one folio volume of printed ballads. From all these some of the best pieces were selected ; and from many private Collections, as well printed as manuscript, particularly from one large folio volume which was lent by a lady. Amid such a fund of materials the Editor is afraid he has been sometimes led to make too great a parade of his autho- rities. The desire of being accurate has perhaps seduced him into too minute and trifling an exactness ; and in pursuit of information he may have been drawn into many a petty and frivolous research. It was, however, necessary to give some account of the old copies ; though often, for the sake of brevity, one or two of these only are mentioned, where yet assistance was received from several. Where anything was altered that deserved particular notice, the passage is generally distinguished by two inverted ' commas :' and the Editor has endeavoured to be as faithful as the imperfect state of his materials would admit. For these old popular rhymes being many of them copied only from illiterate transcripts, or the imperfect recitation of itinerant ballad- singers, have, as might be expected, been handed down to us with less care than any other writings in the world. And the old copies, whether MS. or printed, were often so defective or corrupted, that a scrupulous adherence to their wretched readings would only have exhibited unintelligible nonsense, or such poor meagre stuff as neither came from the bard nor was worthy the press ; when, by a few slight corrections or additions, a most beautiful or interesting sense hath started PREFACE. XV forth, and this so naturally and easily, that the Editor could seldom prevail on himself to indulge the vanity of making a formal claim to the improvement ; but must plead guilty to the charge of concealing his own share in the amendments under some such general title as a " Modern Copy, : ' or the like. Yet it has heen his design to give sufficient intimation where any considerable liberties 4 were taken with the old copies, and to have retained, either in the text or margin, any word or phrase which was antique, obsolete, unusual, or peculiar; so that these might be safely quoted as of genuine and undoubted antiquity. His object was to please both the judicious antiquary and the reader of taste; and he hath endeavoured to gratify both without offending either. The plan of the work was settled in concert with the late elegant Mr. Shenstone, who was to have borne a joint share in it, had not death unhappily prevented him. 5 Most of the modern pieces were of his selection and arrangement, and the Editor hopes to be pardoned if he has retained some things out of partiality to the judgment of his friend. The old folio MS. above mentioned was a present from Humphrey Pitt, Esq., of Prior' s-Lee, in Shropshire, 6 to whom this public acknowledgment is due for that and many other 4 Such liberties have been taken with all those pieces which have three asterisks subjoined, thus *,*. 5 That the Editor hath not here underrated the assistance Le icceived from his friend, will appear from Mr. Shenstone's own letter to the Rev. Mr. Grayes, dated March 1st, 1761. See his Works, vol. iii. letter ciii. It is doubtless a great loss to this work that Mr. Shenstone never saw more than about a third of one of these volumes, as prepared for the press. Who informed the Editor that this MS. had been purchased in 1. Adam Bell, Clym o' the Clough, and William of Cloudesly . . ]of> 2. The Aged Lover renounceth Love 128 3. Jephthah Judge of Israel 130 f 4. A Robyn, Jolly Robyn 132 5. A Song to the Lute in Musicke 134 6. King Cophetua and the Beggar-Maid 135 7. Take thy Old Cloak about thee 1H- > 8. Willow, Willow, Willow 14'J k 9. Sir Lancelot du Lake .... 14(3 10. Corydon's Farewell to Phillis . 150 The Ballad of Constant Susannah ib. 11. Gernutus, the Jew of Venice 151 b 2 XX OOJNiKJXTS. PACK 12. The Passionate Shepherd to his Love, by Marlow .... 158 The Nymph's Reply, by Sir W. Raleigh 160 "* 13. Titus Andronicus's Complaint 161 14. Take those Lips away 166 -^ 15. King Leir and his Three Daughters ib. "* 16. Youth and Age, by Shakspeare 172 17. The Frolicksome Duke, or the Tinker's good Fortune. . . . 173 18. The Friar of Orders Gray 176 BOOK THE THIRD. ' 1. The more modern Ballad of Chevy Chace 180 Illustration of the Northern Names 191 2. Death s final Conquest, by James Shirley 192 3. The Rising in the North ... 193 4. Northumberland betrayed by Douglas 200 5. My Mind to me a Kingdom is 208 6. The Patient Countess, by W. Warner 210 7. Dowsabell, by Dray ton 216 8. The Farewell to Love, from Beaumont and Fletcher .... 221 * 9. Ulysses and the Syren, by S. Daniel ib. 10. Cupid's Pastime, by Davison 224 11. The Character of a Happy Life, by Sir H. Wotton .... 226 12. Gilderoy. A Scottish Ballad 227 13. Winifreda 230 -> 14. The Witch of Wokey 231 }, 15. Bryan and Pereene. A West India Ballad, by Dr. Grainger . 234 M6. Gentle River, Gentle River. Translated from the Spanish . . 236 NL7. Alcanzar and Zayda. A Moorish Tale ....... 242 BOOK THE FOURTH. 1. Richard of Almaigne 246 ^ 2. On the death of K. Edward 1 249 r 3. An original Ballad by Chaucer 252 4. The Turnament of Tottenham 254 5. For the Victory at Agincourt 264 6. The Not-browne Mayd 265 7. A Balet by the Earl Rivers 278 8. Cupid's Assault. By Lord Vaux 279 9. Sir Aldingar 282 10. The Gaberlunzie man, Scottish. By K. James V. .... 289 11. On Thomas Lord Cromwell 292 12. Harpalus. An ancient English Pastoral 294 -* 13. Robin and Makyne. An ancient Scottish Pastoral .... 298 14. Gentle Herdsman, tell to me 302 15. K. Edward IV. and the Tanner of Tamwortb 305 16. As ye came from the Holy Land 312 17. Hardyknute. A Scottish Fragment. By Sir J. Bruce . . . 314 OOOTENTS. XXI BOOK TEE FIFTH. PAGB 1. A Ballad of Luther, the Pope, a Cardinal, and a Husbandman . 327 It. John Anderson my Jo. A Scottish Song 332 3. Little John Nobody 333 4. Q. Elizabeth's Verses, while Prisoner at Woodstock .... 336 5. The Heir of Linne 337 6. Gascoigne's Praise of the Fair Bridges, afterwards Lady Sandes . 344 7. Fair Rosamond. By Thomas Delone 347 8. Queen Eleanor's Confession 356 9. The Sturdy Rock 359 10. The Beggar's Daughter of Bednal-Creen 360 An Essay on the word FIT, and the ancient Ballad-singing . . 368 11. Fancy and Desire. By the Earl of Oxford 371 12. Sir Andrew Barton ." 373 13. Lady Anne Bothwell's Lament. A Scottish Song .... 384 14. The Murder of the King of Scots 386 15. A Sonnet by Q. Elizabeth 388 16. The K. of Scots and Andrew Browne. By W. Elderton . . . 390 17. The Bonny Earl of Murray. A Scottish'Song 395 18. Young Waters. A Scottish Ballad 396 - 19. Mary Ambree 399 20. Brave Lord Willoughby 402 21. Victorious Men of Earth. By James Shirley 405 22. The Winning of Cales 406 23. The Spanish Lady's Lore 409 24. Argentile and Curan. By W. Warner 412 25. Corin's Fate . . . .* 422 26. Jane Shore 423 87. Corrdon's doleful Knell , 432 AN ESSAY ON THE ANCIENT MINSTRELS IN ENGLAND. I. The MINSTRELS (A) were an order of men in the Middle Ages, who subsisted by the arts of poetry and music, and sang to the harp verses composed by themselves, or others. 1 They also appear to have ac- companied their songs with mimickry and action, and to have prac- tised such various means of diverting as were much admired in those rude times, and supplied the want of more refined entertainment (B). These arts rendered them extremely popular and acceptable in this and all the neighbouring countries, where no high scene of festivity was esteemed complete that was not set off with the exercise of their talents, and where, so long as the spirit of chivalry subsisted, they were protected and caressed, because their songs tended to do honour to the ruling passion of the times, and to encourage and foment a martial spirit. The Minstrels seem to have been the genuine successors of the ancient Bards (c), who, under different names, were admired and revered from the earliest ages among the people of Gaul, Britain, Ireland, and the North, and indeed by almost all the first inhabitants of Europe, whether of Celtic or Gothic race ; 2 but by none more than by our own Teutonic ancestors, 8 particularly by all the Danish tribes. 4 Among these they were distinguished by the name of SCALDS, a word (A) Thi> larger notes and illustrations referred to by the ! tiers (A) (B), &c, are thrown together to the end 01 this K~.-ay. i Wedded to no hypothesis, the Author hath readily corrected any mistakes which have been prorei to be In this Kesay ; and considering the novHty of the subject, and the time and place when and where he fir-t took it up, many such had been excusable. That the term minstrr.l was not confined, as some cont--n-Saxons, and that the professor of them here, if not quite so respectable a personage as the Danish Scald, was yet highly favoured and protected, and continued still to enjoy considerable privileges. Even so early as the first invasion of Britain by the Saxons an incident is recorded to have happened which, if true, shows that the Minstrel or Bard was not unknown among this people, and that their princes themselves could, upon occasion, assume that character. Colgrin, son of that Ella who was elected king or leader of the Saxons in the room of Hengist, 1 was shut up in York, and closely besieged by Arthur and his Britons. Baldulph, brother of Colgrin, wanted to gain access to him, and to apprize him of a reinforcement which was coming from Germany. He had no other way to accomplish his design but to assume the character of a Minstrel. He therefore shaved his head and beard, and, dressing himself in the habit of that profession, took his harp in his hand. In this disguise he walked up and down the trenches without suspicion, playing ull the while upon his instrument as a Harper. By little and little he advanced near to the walls of the city, and making himself known to the sentinels, was in the night drawn up by a rope. Although the above fact comes only from me suspicious pen of Geoffrey of Monmouth (K), the judicious reader will not too hastily reject it, because if such a fact really happened, it could only be known to us through the medium of the British writers : for the first Saxons, a martial but unlettered people, had no historians of their own. and Geoffrey, w th all his fables, is allowed to have recorded many true events that have escaped other annalists. We do not however want instances of a less fabulous era. and more indubitable authority: for later history affords us two remarkable facts (L), which I think clearly show that the same arts of poetry and song, which were so much admired among the Danes, were by no means unknown or neglected in this sister nation ; and that th i Sec Rapin's Hist, (by Tindal, foL 1732, vol. 1, p. 36), who places the incident hen related under the year 495. THE ANCIENT MINSTRELS. privileges and honours which were BO lavishly bestowed upon the northern Scalds were not wholly withheld from the Anglo-Saxon Minstrels. Our great King Alfred, who is expressly said to have excelled in music, 2 being desirous to learn the true situation of the Danish nrmy, which had iuvaded his realm, assumed the dress and character of a minstrel (M) ; when, taking his harp, and one of the most trusty of his friends disguised as a servant,* (for in the early times it was not unusual for a minstrel to have a servant to carry his harpj, he went with the utmost security into the Danish camp ; and. though he could lot but be known to be a Saxon by his dialect, the character he had assumed procured him a hospitable reception. He was admitted to entertain the king at table, and stayed among them long enough to contrive that assault which afterwards destroyed them. This wus in the year 878. About sixty years after, 4 a Danish king made use of the same disguise to explore the camp of our king Athelstan. With i.is hiirp in his hand, and dressed like a minstrel (N . Aulaff, 5 king of the Danes, weut arnoug the Saxon tents ; and, taking his stand near the king's pavilion, began to play, and was immediately admitted. There he entertained Athelstan and his lords with his singing and his music, and was at length dismissed with an honourable reward, though his songs must have discovered him to have been a Dane (o). Athel- stan was saved from the consequences of this stratagem by a soldier, who had observed Aulaff bury the money which had been given him, either from some scruple of honour, or motive of superstition. This occasioned a discovery. Now if the Saxons had not been accustomed to have minstrels of their own, Alfred's assuming so new and unusual a character would have excited suspicions among the Danes. On the other ha. id, if it had not been customary with the baxous to show favour and respect to the Danish Scalds, Aulaff would not have ventured himself among them, especially on the eve of a battle (p). From the uniform pro- cedure, then, of both these kings we may fairly conclude that the same mode of entertainment prevailed among both people, and that the Minstrel was a privileged character with each. But, if these facts had never existed, it can be proved from un- doubted records, that the Minstrel was a regular and stated officer in the court of our Anglo-Saxon kings ; for in Domesday-book, Jocvlator Regis, the King's Minstrel is expressly mentioned in Gloucestershire; in which county it should seem that he had lands assigned him for his maintenance IQ). III. We have now brought the inquiry down to the Norman J By Bale and Spelman. See note (M). s Ibid. < Anno 938. Vide Rapln, Jtc. > So 1 think the name should be printed, rather than Anlaff, the more usual form (the same traces of the letters express both names in MS.), Aulaff being evidently toe genuine northern name Olaff, or Olave, I>au Olans. In the old Knmance of fiurn-Childe, (See vol. li. page 95.) the name of the king his father is Auof, which is evidently OUat with the vowels only transposed. XXV111 AN ESSAY ON Conquest ; and as the Normans bad been a late colony from Noiwar and Denmark, where the Scalds had arrived to the highest pitch of credit before Hollo's expedition into France, we cannot doubt but this adventurer, like the other northern princes, had many of these men in his train who settled with him in his new duchy of Xormaudy, and left behind them successors in their art : so that, when his descendant, William the Bastard, invaded this kingdom in the following century, 8 that mode of entertainment could not but be still familiar with the Normans. And that this is not mere conjecture will appear from a remarkable fact, which shows that the arts of Poetry and Song were still as reputable among the Normans in France us they had been among their ancestors in the north; and that the profession of Minstrel, like that of Scald, was still aspired to by the most gallant soldiers. In William's army was a valiant warrior, named Taillefer, who was distinguished no less for the minstrel arts (R) than for hia courage and intrepidity. This man asked leave of his commander to begin the onset, and obtained it. He accordingly advanced before the army, and with a loud voice animated his countrymen with songs in praise of Charlemagne and Koland, and other heroes of France ; then rushing among the thickest of the English, and valiantly fighting, lost his life. Indeed, the Normans were so early distinguished for their minstrel - talents, that an eminent French writer (s) makes no scruple to refei to them the origin of all modern poetry, and shows that they were celebrated for their songs near a century before the Troubadours of Provence, who are supposed to have led the way to the poets of Italy, France, and Spain. 7 We see, then, that the Norman Conquest was rather likely to favour the establishment of the minstrel profession in this kingdom, than to suppress it : and although the favour of the Norman conquerors would be probably confined to such of their own countrymen as excelL d in the minstrel arts ; and in the first ages after the Conquest no other songs would be listened to by the great nobility, but such as were composed in their own Norman-French ; yet as the great mass of the original inhabitants were not extirpated, these could only understand their own native Gleemen or Minstrels, who must still be allowed to exist, unless it cau be proved that they were all proscribed and mas- sacred, as, it is said, the Welsh Bards were afterwards by the severe policy of King Edward I. But this we know was not the case : and even the cruel attempts of that monarch, aa we shall see below, proved ineffectual (s 2). The honours shown to the Norman or French Minstrels by our princes and great barons, would naturally have been imitated by their English vassals and tenants, even if no favour or distinction had ever been shown here to tiie same order of men in the Anglo-Saxon and Rollo was invested in his new duchy of Normandy A.D. 912. William invadea Eugland A.D. 1066. 1 Vide Hist, des Troubadours, 3 torn, passim; and vide Fibleaux ou Conk-a deg XII. et du XIII. Slecle, traduits, &c., avec dea Notes historiijues et critiques, ic., par M. Le Grand. Pane, 1781. 5 torn. 12mo. THE ANCIENT MINSTRELS. XXIX Danish reigns. So that we cannot doubt but the Englis'i Harper and Songster would, at least in a subordinate degree, enjoy the same kind of honours, and be received with similar respect, among the inferior English gentry and populace. I must be allowed, therefore, to con- sider them as belonging to the same community, as subordinate members at least of the same college ; and therefore, in gleaning the scanty materials for this slight history, I shall collect whatever inci- dents I can find relating to minstrels and their art, and arrange them, as they occur in our own annals, without distinction ; as it will not be always easy to ascertain, from the slight mention of them by our regular historians, whether the artists were Norman or English. For it need not be remarked, that subjects of tliis trivial nature are but incidentally mentioned by our ancient annalists, and were fastidiously rejected by other grave and serious writers ; so that, unless they were accidentally connected with such events as became recorded in history, they would pass unnoticed through the lapse of ages, and be as unknown to posterity as other topics relating to the private life and amusements of the greatest nations. On this account it can hardly be expected that we should be able to produce regular and unbroken annals of the minstrel art and its pro- fessors, or have sufficient information whether every minstrel or harper composed himself, or only repeated the songs he chanted. Some probably did the one, and some the other ; and it would have been wonderful indeed, if men whose peculiar profession it was, and who devoted their time and talents to entertain their hearers with poetical compositions, were peculiarly deprived of all poetical genius them- selves, and had been under a physical incapacity of composing those common popular rhymes which were the usual subjects of their reci- tation. Whoever examines any considerable quantity of these, finds them in style and colouring as different from the elaborate production of the sedentary composer at his desk or in his cell, as the rambling harper or minstrel was remote in his modes of life and habits of thinking from the retired scholar or the solitary monk (r). It is well known that on the Continent, whence our Norman nobles came, the bard who composed, the harper who played and sang, and even the dancer and the mimic, were all considered as of one commu- nity, and were even all included under the common name of Minstrels.* I must therefore be allowed the same application ol the terra here, without being expected to prove that e\ery singer composed, or every composer chanted, his own song ; much less that every one excelled in all the arts which were occasionally exercised by some or other of this fraternity. IV. After the Norman Conquest, the first occurrence which I Lave met with relating to this order of men is the tbun'ling of a priory and hospital by one of them ; scil. the Priory and Hospital of St. Bartholomew, in Smithfielil, London, by Eoyer or Baherus, the King's Minstrel, in the third year of King Henry I., A.D. 1102. He was th * See notes (B) and QAA) XXX AN ESSAY ON first Prior of his own establishment, and presided over it to the time of his death (T 2). In the reign of King Henry II. we have upon record the name of Galfrid, or Jeffrey, a harper, who in 1180 received a corrody, or annuity, from the abbey of Hide, near Winchester ; and, as in the early times every harper was expected to sing, we cannot doubt but tliis reward was given to him for his music and his songs ; which, if they were for the solace of the monks there, we may conclude would be in the English language (u). Under his romantic son, King Richard I., the minstrel profession seems to have acquired additional splendour. Richard, who was the great hero of chivalry, was also the distinguished patron of poets and minstrels. He was himself of their number, and some of his poema are still extant. 9 They were no less patronized by his favourites and chief officers. His Chancellor, William Bishop of Ely, is expressly mentioned to have invited singers and minstrels from France, whom he loaded with rewards ; and they in return celebrated him as the most accomplished person in the world (D 2). This high distinction and regard, although confined perhaps in the first instance to poets and songsters of the French nation, must have had a tendency to do honour to poetry and song among all his subjects, and to encourage the cultivation of these arts among the natives ; as the indulgent favour shown by the monarch or his great courtiers to the Provencal Troubadour, or Norman Rymour, would naturally be imitated by their inferior vassals to the English Gleeman or Minstrel. At more than a century after the Conquest, the national distinctions must have begun to decline, and both the Norman and English languages would be heard in the houses of the great (u 3) ; so that probably about this era, or soon after, we are to date that remarkable intercommunity and exchange of each other's compositions, which we discover to have taken place at some early period between the French and English Minstrels ; the same set of phrases, the same species of characters, incidents, and adventures, and often the same identical stories, being found in the old metrical romances of both nations (v). The distinguished service which Richard received from one of his own minstrels, in rescuing him from his cruel and tedious captivity, is a remarkable fact, which ought to be recorded for the honour of poets and their art. This fact I shall relate in the following words of an ancient writer: 1 " The Englishmen were more than a whole yeare without hearing any tydings of their King, or in what place he was kept prisoner. He 9 See a pathetic Song of his in Mr. Walpole's Catalogue of Royal Authors, vol. 1. p. 5. The reader will rind a translation of it into modern French in Hist. Litteralre des Troubadours, 1774, 3 torn. 12mo. See vol. i. (p. 58), where some more of Richard's poetry is translated. In Dr. Burnej's Hist, of Music, vol. ii. p. 238, is a poetical version of it in English. i Mons. Favine's Theatre of Honour and Knighthood, translated from the French. Lond. 1623, fol. torn. ii. p. 49. An elegant relation of the same event (from the French of Presid. Fauchet's " Recueil," &c.) may be seen in " Miscellanies in Prose and Verse by Anna Williams, Lond. 1766." 4io, p. 46. It will excite the reader's admiration to be informed tbat must of the pieces of that collection were composed under the dis- advantage of a total deprivation uf sight. THE ANDTKNT MINSTRELS. XXXI had trained up in his court a Rimer or Minstrill, 2 called Blondel de Nesle, who) so saith the manuscript of Old Poesies, 3 and an auncient manuscript French Chronicle) being so long without the sight of hid Lord, his life seemed wearisome to him, and he became confounded with melancholly. Knowne it was that he came backe from the Holy l^and ; but none could tell in what countrey he arrived. Whereupon this Ulondel, resolving to make search for him in many countries, but he would In :n i- some newes of him; after expence of divers dayes iu tiavaile, he came to a towne 4 (by good hap) neere to the ca&tell where his maister King Richard was kept. Of his host he demanded to whom I he castell appertained, and the host told him that it belonged to tlie Duke of Austria. Then he enquired whether there were any prisoners therein detained or no; for alwayes he made such seciet questionings wheresoever he came. And the hoste gave answer, there w as one onely prisoner, but he knew not what he was, and yet he had bin detained there more than the space of a yeare. When Blondel heard this, he wrought such meanes, that he became acquainted with them of the castell, as Minstrels doe easily win acquaintance any where ; * but see the king he could not, neither understand that it was he. One day he sat directly before a window of the castell, where King Richard was kept prisoner, and began to sing a song in French, which King Richard and Blondel bad sometime composed together. When King Richard heard the soiijr, he knew it was Blondel that sung it; and when Blondel paused at lialfe of the song, the King began the other half, and completed it 9 Thus Blondel won knowledge of the King his maister, and returning home into England, made the Barons of the countrra acquainted where the King was." This happened about the year 1193. The following old Provencal lines are given as the very original song ; 7 which I thall accompany with an imitation offered by Dr. Buruey, ii. 237 : * Favine's words are, " Jongleur appelle Blondiaux de Nesle." (Paris, 1620. 4to. p. 1 106.) But Fauchet, who has Riven the same story, thus ex presses it, " Or ce royayant uourri un Menestrel appelle Blondel," &c. liv. ii. p. 92. " Des anciens Poetes Francis." He Is however said to have been another Blondel, not Blondel (or Blondiaux) de AesU; but this no way affects the circumstances of the story. 3 This the author calls in another place " An ancient MS. of old Poesies, written about those very times. ' From this MS. Favine gives a good account of the taking of Kichard by the Duke of Austria, who sold him to the emp-ror. As for the MS. chronicle, it is evidently the same that supplied Fauchet with this story. See his Kccuril de 1'Origine de la langue et Poesie Francoise, Kyme, et Romans," Ac. i'ar. 1581. * Tribale*. ' Retrudi eum prsecepit in Triballis : a quo carcere nullus ante dies islos exivit." Lat. Chron. of Otho of Austria : apud Favin. " Comutc Menestrels s'accolntent legerement." Favine. (Faachet expresses it iu tin- same manner.) 8 I give this passage corrected ; as the English translator of Favine's book appeared here to have mistaken the original : Soil. " Et quant Blondel cut dit la moitie de la Chanson, le Roy Kichart se prist a dire 1'autre moitie et 1'acheva." Favine, p. HOB. F.tucliet lias also expressed it in nearly the same words. Recueil, p. 93. * In a little romance or novel, entitled, " La Tour Tenebreuse, et les Jours Lumineux, Cor-les Angloises, accompagnes d'H Storiettes, & tirez d'une ancienne Chronique com- posi-e par Kichard, surnomme Coeur de Lion, Roy d'Auglet- rre," &c. Paris, 1705, ivmo. It the preface to this romance the editor has given another song of Blondel d* Neale, as also a copy of the Bung written by King Kichard, and published by Mr. AH KSSAY ON BLOXDEL. Domiii vostra beutas Elas liellas faisso* Els b?ls oils amoros Els gens cors ben taillats Don eieu empres^nats De vostra amor que mi lia. Si bel trop affansia Ja de vos non portrai Que major bon< iral Sol en votre deman Qae sautra des beisin Tut can de vos volria. Your beauty, Iculyjair, A'one vitvs v-it/tout delight , Rut still to co'd an air A'o petition can excite : Ttt this I patient see While all are shunn'd like me. RICHARD. .Vo nymph my heart can wourA Ifjaooar slit div J, And smihs on all around Vniv Iling to decide : I'd ratlur hatred bear Than lave witli other* share. The access which Blondel so readily obtained in the privileged chanu-ter of a Minstrel, is not the only instance upon record of the same nature (v 2). In this very reign of King Richard I., the younsj heiress of D'Evreux, Earl of Salisbury, had been carried abroad and secreted by her French relations in Normandy. To discover the place of her concealment, a knight of the Talbot family spent two years in exploring that province, at first under the disguise of a Pilgrim ; till having found where she was confined, in order to gain admittance he assumed the dress and character of a Harper, and lieing a jocose person, exceedingly skilled in " the Gests of the antients" 8 (so they called the romances and stories which were the delight of that age), lie was gladly received into the family. Whence he took an oppor- tunity to carry off the young lady, whom he presented to the king ; and he bestowed her on his natural brother, William Longespee (son of fair Rosamond), who became in htr right Earl of Salisbury (v 3). The next memorable event which I find in history reflects credit on the English minstrels: and this was their contributing to the Rescue of one of the great Earls of Chester, when besieged by the Welsh. This happened in the reign of King John, and LJ related to this etfect. 9 Hugh, the first Earl of Chester, in his charter of foundation of St. Wt-rburg's Abbey in that city, had granted such a privilege to t;ise who should come to Chester fair, that they should not be then apprehended for theft or any other misdemeanour, except the crimj were committed during the fair. This special protection occasioning ft multitude of loose people to resort to that lair, was afterwards ot signal benefit to one of his successors. For Rauulph, the last Earl of Walpole, mentioned above (in note 9, page xxx.); yet the two last are not in Provencal like the sonnet printed here; but In the eld French, called Lanyage Ko'r.an. The words of the original, viz. " Citharisator homo jocosus in GFSTIS antiquornm valde peritus," I conceive to give the precise idea of the ancient Minstrel. See note (7 2). That Grsia was appropriated to romantic stories, see note (i) part iv. (1.) o See Dugtfale (liar. i. 42, 101), who places it alter 13 Jotn, A.D. 12' 2. JSe alM Plot's Staffordsh. Camden'- B.itaun. (Chesiiire.) THE ANCIENT MINSTRELS. XXXlii Chester, marching into Wales with a slender attendance, was con- strained to retire to his castle of Kothelan (or Rhuydland), to which the Welsh forthwith laid siege. In this distress he sent for help to the Lord de Lacy, Constable of Chester: "Who, making use of the Minstrells of all sorts, then met at Chester fair ; by the allurement of their musick, got together a vast number of such kx>se people, as, by reason of the before specified priviledge, were then in that city; whom lie forthwith sent under the conduct of Button (his steward)," a gallant youth, who was also his son-in-law. The Welsh, alarmed at the approach of this rabble, suppo.-ing them to be a regular body of armed and disciplined veterans, instantly raised the siege and retired. For this good service, Ranulph is said to have granted to De Lacy, by charter, the patronage and authority over the minstrels and the loose and inferior people : who, retaining to himself that of the lower artificers, conferred on Button the jurisdiction of the minstrels and harlots: 1 and under the descendants of this family the minstrels enjoyed certain privileges and protection for many ages. For even so late as the reign of Elizabeth, when this profession had fallen into such discredit that it was considered in law as a nuisance, the minstrels under the jurisdiction of the family of Button are expressly excepted out of all acte of parliament made for their suppre sion ; and have continued to be so excepted ever since (w). The ceremonies attending the exercise of this jurisdiction are thus described by Bugdale, 2 as handed down to his time, viz. " That at midsummer fair there, all the Minstrels of that countrey resorting to Chester do attend the heir of Button, from his lodging to St. John's church (he being then accompanied by many gentlemen of the countrey), one of the Minstrels ' walking before him in a surcoat of his arms depicted on taffata; the rest of his fellows proceeding (two and two) and playing on their several sorts of musical instruments. And after divine service ended, give ihe like attendance on him back to his lodging; where a COURT being kept by his [Jlr. Button's] steward, and all the Minstrels formally called, certain orders and laws are usually made for the better government of that Society, with penalties on those who transgress." In the same reign of King John we have a remarkable instance of a minstrel, who to his other talents superadded the character of Soothsayer, and by his skill in drugs and medicated potions was able to rescue a knight from imprisonment. This occurs in Leland's Narrative of the GESTES of Guarine (or Warren) and his sons, which he " excerptid owte of an old Englisch boke yn ryme," 3 and is aa follows : Whitington Castle in Shropshire, which together with the coheiress of the original proprietor had been won in a solemn t urnarnent by the ancestor of the Guarines, 4 had, in the reign of King John, been seized See the ancient record In Blount'g Law Dictionary. (Art Minstrel.) Bar. 1. p. 101. LeUnd'a CoLe-tanoa, vol. 1. pp. 261, 266. 267. This old feudal custom of marrying an helrea* to the knight who should vanquish VOL. I. C XXX1T AN ASSAY ON by the Prince of Wales, and was afterwards possessed by Morice. a retainer of that prince, to whom the king, out of hatred to the true heir, Fulco Guarine (with whom he had formerly had a quarrel at chess*), not only confirmed the possession, out also made him governor of the Marches, of which Fulco himself had the custody in the time of King Richard. The Guarines demanded justice of the king, but obtaining no gracious answer, renounced their allegiance and fled into Britagne. Returning into England, after various conflicts, %i Fulco resortid to one John of Raumpayne, a SotKsayer and Jocular and Minstrelle, and made hym his spy to Morice at Whitington." The privileges of this character we have already seen, and John so well availed himself of them, that in consequence of the intelligence which he doubtless procured, " Fulco and his brethrene laide waite for Morice, as he went toward Salesbyri, and Fulco ther woundid hym : and Bracy," a knight, who was their friend and assistant, " cut off Morice [*sj hedde." This Sir Bracy being in a subsequent rencounter sore wounded, was taken and brought to King John ; from whose vengeance he was, however, rescued by this notable minstrel ; for " John Rampayne founde the meanes to cast them, that kt pte Bracy, into a deadely slepe ; and so lie and Bracy cam to Fulco to Whiting- ton," which on the death of Morice had been restored to him by the Prince of Wales. As no further mention occurs of the minstrel, I might here conclude this narrative ; but I shall just add, that Fulco was obliged to flee into France, where, assuming the name of Sir Amice, he distinguished himself in justs and turnaments ; and, after various romantic adventures by sea and land, having in the true style of chivalry rescued " certayne ladies owt of prison," he finally ob- tained the king's pardon, and the quiet possession of Whitington Castle. In the reign of King Henry III. we have mention of Master Ricard, the king's harper, to whom in his thirty-sixth year (1252) that monarch gave not only forty shillings and a pipe of wine, but also a pipe of wine to Beatrice his wife. 6 The title of Magister, or Master, given to this minstrel, deserves notice, and shows his respect- able situation. V. The Harper, or Minstrel, who was so necessary an attendant on a royal personage, that Prince Edward (afterwards King Edward I.), in his crusade to the Holy Land, in 1271, was not without his harper, who mu-t have been officially very near his person ; as we are told by a contemporary historian, 7 that, in the attempt to assassinate that all his opponents in solemn contest, &c , appears to be burlesqued in the Tumament of Totenham (see vol. i. p. 254), as Is well observed by the learned author of Remarks, &c.. In Gent. Mag. for July, 1794, p. 613. s " John, sun to King Henry, and Fulco felle at variance at Chf-stes [r. Chesse] ; and John brake Fulco'[s] bed with the Chest borde : and then Fulco gave him such a blow, that he had almost klllid hym." Lei. Coll. i. p. 264. A curious picture of courtly manners In that afje ! Notwithstanding this fray, we read In the next paragraph, that " King Henry dubbld Fulco & 3 of his brethrene Knlghtes at Winchester." Ibid. Buraey's Hist. 11. p. 355. Rot. Pip. An. 36 H. III. " Kt in uno dolio vini empto 6 dato MAGIS-TKO RICARDO Citi-arista? Regis, xl. sol. per br. Reg. Et In uno dolio empto & dato Beatrtct uxori ejusdem Rlcardl." f Walter Hemmingford (visit temp. Edw. I.) in Chronic, cap. 35, inter V. Hist. Ang. Scriptores, vol. 11. Oxon. 1687, fol. p. 591. THE ANCIENT MINSTRKLS. XOXY heroic prince, when he had wrested the poisoned knife out of the Sarazen's hand, and killed him with his own weapon ; the attendants, who had stood apart while he was whispering to their master, hearing the struggle, ran to his assistance, and one of them, to wit his harper, eeizing a tripod, or trestle, struck tiie assassin on the head and beat out his brains. 8 And though the prince blamed him for striking the man after he wns dead, yet his near access shows the respectable situation of this officer; and his affectionate zeal should have imluced Edward to entreat his brethren, the Welsh bards, afterwards with more lenity. Whatever was the extent of this great monarch's severity towards the professors of music and of song in Wales ; whether the executing by martial law such of them as fell into his hands was only during the heat of conflict, or was continued afterwards with more systematic rigour; 9 yet in his own court the minstrels appear to have been highly favoured ; for when, in 1306, he conferred the order of knighthood on his son and many others of the young nobility, a multitude of minstrela were introduced to invite and induce the new knights to make some military vow (x). And Under the succeeding reign of King Edward II. such extensive privi- leges were claimed by these men, and by dissolute persons assuming their character, that it became a matter of public grievance, and was obliged to be reformed by an express regulation in A.D. 1315 (Y). Notwith- standing which, an incident is recorded in the ensuing year, which shows that minstrels still retained the liberty of entering at will into the royal presence, and had something peculiarly splendid in their dress. It is thus related by Stowe (z) : " In the year 1316, Edward the Second did solemnize his feast of Pentecost at Westminster, in the great hall : where sitting royally at the table with his peers about him, there entered a woman adorned like a Minstrel, sitting on a great horse trapped, as Minstrels then used who rode round about the tables, shewing pastime ; and at length came up to the King's table, and laid before him a letter, and forth- with turning her horse, saluted every one and departed." The subject of this letter was a remonstrance to the king on the favours heaped by him on his minions, to the neglect of his knights and faithful servants. The privileged character of a minstrel was employed on this occa- sion, as sure of gaining an easy admittance ; and a female (he rather deputed to assume it, that, in case of detection, her sex might disarm the king's resentment. This is offered on a supposition that Edwardus quod honr.nem mortnum percu>slsset. Ibid. These Ministn must have been upon a very confidential tooting, as it appears abo> in the same chapter, that they had b rn made acquainted with the contents of the letters which the assassin had delivered to the prince from his master. 9 See liray's Ode; and the Hist, of the Gwedlr Family in "Miscellanies by the Hon. Dahi'S Harrington," 1781, 4to, p. 386; who in the Laws, &c, of this monarch, could find no instinces of severity against the Welsh. See his Observatioun cti the Statute*. 4!o, 4th edit. p. 358. c 2 XXIV1 AN ESSAY ON she was not a real minstrel; for there should seem to have been women of this profession (A A), as well as of the other sex ; and no accomplishment is so constantly attributed to females, by our ancient bards, as their singing to, and playing on, the harp (A A 2). In the fourth year of King Richard II. John of Gaunt erected at Tutbury, in Staffordshire, a Court of Minstrels, similar to that annually kept at Chester (page xxxiii), and which, like a Court-Leet or Court- 3aron, had a legal jurisdiction, with full power to receive suit and service from the men of this profession within five neighbouring counties, to enact laws and determine their controversies ; and to apprehend and arrest such of them as should refuse to appear at the said court, annually held on the 16th of August. For this they had a charter, by which they were empowered to appoint a King of the Minstrels, with four officers to preside over them (B B). These were ^very year elected with great ceremony ; the whole form of which, as observed in 1680, is described by Dr. Plot : l in whose time, however, they appear to have lost their singing talents, and to have confined all their skill to wind and string music. 2 The minstrels seem to have been in many respects upon the same footing as the heralds ; and the King of the Mintrels, like the King- at-Arms, was both here and on the continent an usual officer in the courts of princes. Thus we have in the reign of King Edward I. mention of a King Robert, and others. And in 16 Edward II. is a grant to William de Morlee, *' the King's Minstrel, styled Roy de North,"* of houses which had belonged to another king, John le Boteler (B B 2). Rymer hath also printed a licence granted by King Richard II. in 1387, to John Caumz, the King of his Minstrels, to pass the seas, recommending him to the protection and kind treatment of all his subjects and allies. 4 In the subsequent reign of King Henry IV. we meet with no partic- ulars relating to the Minstrels in England, but we find in the Statute Book a severe law passed against their brethren, the Welsh Bards ; whom our ancestors could not distinguish from their own Bimours, MinslraJx ; for by these names they describe them (B B 3). This act plainly shows, that far from being extirpated by the rigorous policy of King Edward I,, this order of men were still able to alarm the English Government, which attributed to them " many diseases and mischiefs in Wales," and prohibited their meetings and contri- butions. When his heroic son, King Henry V., was preparing his great voyage tor France, in 1415, an express order was given for his minstrels, fifteen i Hist, of Staffordshire, ch. 10. } 69-76, p. 433, et seqq., of which see extracts in Sir J. Hawkins' Hist, of Music, vol. ii. p. 64 ; and Dr. Burner's Hist., vol. ii. p. 360, et seqq. N.B. The barbarous diversion of bull-running was no part of the original institution kc., as is fully proved by the Rev. Dr. Pegge, in Archseologia, vol. ii. no. xlii. p. 86. * See the charge given by the steward, at the time of the election, in Plot's Hist, nbi supra ; and in Hawkins, p. 67, Burney, p. 363-4. t go among the heralds A'orrey was anciently styled Royd'Arma de Forth. Anstis, Ii. 300. And the Kings at Armes m general were >riginally called Regti Beraldorun I ibid. p. 302), as these were Rege* Mimtiallurum. Kymer's Foedera, torn. vii. p. 556. THE ANCIENT MINSTRELS. In number, to attend him: 4 and eighteen are afterwards mentioned to each of whom he allowed xiid. a-day, when tliat sum must have been of more than ten times the value it is at present.* Vet when he entered London in triumph after the battle of Agincourt, he, from a principle of humility, slighted the pageants and verses which were prepared to hail his return ; and, as we are told by Holiugshed, 7 would not suffer "any Dities to be made and song by Minstrels, of hia glorious victorie ; for that he would whollie have the praise and thankes altogether given to God " (B B 4). But this did not proceed from any disregard for the professors of music or of song ; for at the feast of Pentecost, which he celebrated in 1416, having the Emperor and the Duke of Holland for his guests, he ordered rich gowns for sixteen of his minstrels, of wl.iuh the particulars are preserved by Rymer. 8 And having before his death orally granted an annuity or 100 shillings to each of his minstrels, the grant was confirmed in the first year of his son King Henry VI., A.D. 1423, and payment ordered out of the Exchequer.' The unfortunate reign of King Henry VI. affords no occurrences respecting our subject; but in his thirty-fourth year, A.D. 1456, we have in Rymer * a commission for impressing boys or youths, to supply vacancies by death among the king's minstrels: in which it is expressly directed that they shall be elegant in their limbs, as well as instructed in the minstrel art, wherever they can be found, fur the solace of his majesty. In the following reign, King Edward IV. (in his ninth year, 1469\ upon a complaint that certain rude husbandmen and artificers of various trades had assumed the title and livery of the king's minstrels, and under that colour and pretence had collected money in divers parts of the kingdom, and committed other disorders, the kkg grants to Walter Halidny, Marshal, and to seven others his own minstrels, whom he names, a Charter, 2 by which he creates, or rather restores, a Fraternity or perpetual Gild (such as, he understands, the brothers and sisters of the fraternity of Minstrels had in times past), to be governed by a Marshal, appointed for life, and by two Wardens, to be Rymer's Foedera, torn. ix. 255. Ibid p 260. ' See bin chronicle, sub anno 1415 (p. 1170). He also gives this other Instance of the king's great modesty, " that he would not suffer his helmet to be carried with him, and shewed to the people, that they might behold the dlntcs and cuttee whlcbe appeared in the same, of such blowes and stripes as bee received the daye of the battelL" Ibid. Vid. T. de Elmham, c. 2fl. p. 1*. The prohibition against vain and secular songs would probably not include that in SPrt'-d in our first vol., no. v. (p. 264,) which would lie coni-Mered as a hymn. The original notes engraven on a plate at p. 263, may be seen reduced and set to siore in Mr. Stafford Smith's " Collection of English Songs for three and four voices," and in Pr. Burni y's Hist of Music, ii. p. 384. Tom. tx. 336. * KynitT, torn. x. 287. They are mentioned by name, being ten in number; one of them was named Thomas ChaUerton. i Tom. xi. 375. * See :t J Rymei, xi. 642. Ibid. xiii. 705. Ibid, torn xiv. 2, 93. ' So 1 am inclined to understand the term SRuvrENs nosier Hugo Woclrhmii, in the original grant. - See Rymer, ubi supra. It is needless to observe that Sen-irni expressed a Sergeant as well as a Servant. If this interpretation of Servians be allowed, it will account for his placing Wodehouse at the head of his Gild, although te had not been one of the eight min.-trels who had bad the general direction. The Serjeant of his Minstrels, we may presume, was next in dignity to the Marshal, al- though he had no sliare in the government of the Gild. THE ANCIENT MINSTHELS. XXX. \ The name of Minstrel seems, however, to have been gradually appro- priated to the Musician only, especially in the fifteenth and sixteenth centum s ; yet we occasionally meet with applications of the term in its more enlarged meaning, as including the Singer, if not the Composer, of heroic or popular rhymes. 2 In the time of King Henry VIII. we find it to have been a common entertainment to htar verses reeited, or moral speeches learned for tl.at purpose, by a set of men who got their livelihood by repeating them, and who intruded without ceremony into all companies ; not only in taverns, but in the houses of the nobility themselves. This we learn fiom Erasmus, whose argument led him only to describe a species of these men who did not sing their compositions ; but the others that did, enjoyed, without doubt, the same privileges (D D). For even long after, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, it was usual " in places of assembly " for the company to be " desirous to heare of old adventures and valiaunces of noble knights in times past, as thoso of King Arthur and his knights of the round-table, Sir Bevys of Southampton, Guy of Warwicke, and others like," in "short and long meotres, and by breaches or divisions [sc. FITS 3 ], to be more commo- diously sung to the harpe," as the reader may be informed, by a courtly writer, in 1589. 4 Who himself had " written for pleasure, a little brief Romance or historicall Ditty ... of the Isle of Great Britaine," in order to contribute lo such entertainment. And lie subjoins this caution: *'Su<-h as have not premonition hereof " (viz. that his poem was written in short metre, Ac., to be sung to the harp in such places of assembly) " and consideration of the causes allegeii, would peradventure reprove and disgrace every Romance, or short historical ditty, for that they bo not written in long met-ters or verses Alexandrins," which constituted the prevailing versification among the poeta of that age, and which no one now can endure to read. And that the recital of such romances, sung to the harp, was at tl.at time the delight of the common people, we are told by the same writer, 5 who mentions that ''common Rimers" were fond of using rhymes at short distances, " in small and popular Musk-kes song by these Cantabanqui " [the said common rhymers,] " upon benches and barrels' heads," y. (See vol. ii. ibid.) Xl AN ESSAY ON being in dcede but a rude railing rimer, and all his doings ridicu- lous." 6 But although we find here that the Minstrels had lost much of theii dignity, and were sinking into contempt and neglect: yet that they still sustained a character far superior to anything we can conceive at present of the singers of old ballads, I think may be inferred from the following representation. When Queen Elizabeth was entertained at Killingworth Castle by the Earl of Leicester in 1575, among the many devices and pageants which were contrived for her entertainment, one of the personages introduced was to have been that of an ancient Minstrel ; whose appearance and dress are so minutely described by a writer there present, 7 and give us so distinct an idea of the character, that I shall quote the passage at large (E E). " A Person very meet seemed he for the purpose, of a xlv years old, apparelled partly as he would himself. His cap off; his head seemly rounded Tonstervise; 8 fair kembed, that with a sponge daintily dipt in a little capou's greace, was finely smoothed, to make it shine like a mallard's wing. His beard smugly shaven; and yet his shirt after the new trink, with ruffs fair starched, sleeked and glistering like a pair of new shoes, marshalled in good order with a setting stick, and strut, that every ruff stood up like a wafer. A side [t. e. long] gown of Kendal green, after the freshness of the year now, gathered at the neck with a narrow gorget, fastened afore with a white clasp and a keeper close up to the chin ; but easily, for heat to undo when he list. Seemly begirt in a red caddis girdle ; from that a pair of capped Sheffield knives hanging a' two sides. Out of his bosom drawn forth a lappet of his napkin, 9 edged with a blue lace, and marked with a true love, a heart, and a D for Damian, for he was but a bachelor yet. "His gown had side [i. e. long] sleeves down to mid-leg, slit from the shoulder to the hand, and lined with white cotton. His doublet- sleeves of black worsted: upon them a pair of poynets, 1 of tuwny chamlet laced along the wrist with blue threaden points, a wealt towards the hand of fustian-a-napes. A pair of red neather stocks. A pair of pumps on his feet, with a cross cut at the toes for corns ; not new indeed, yet cleanly blackt with soot, and shining as a shoing horn. " About his neck a red ribband suitable to his girdle. His harp in good grace dependent befpre him. His wrest 2 tyed to a green lace and hanging by. Under the gorget of his gown a fair flaggou chain Puttenham, &c. p. 69. i See a very curious " Letter: whearein, part of the entertainment nntoo the Quecnz Maiesty, at KillingwO'irth Castl, in Warwick Sheer, in this soomerz Progress 1575, \i. Bonified,'' &c. bl. 1. 4to, vid. p. 46, & seqq. (Printed in Nichols's Collection of Quern Elizabeth's Progresses, &c., in 2 vols, 4to.) We have not followed above the peculiar and affected orthogiapby or tnis writer, who was named Ho. Laneham, w rathei Langham. 8 1 suppose " tonsure- wise," after the manner of the monks. t. e. handkerchief. So in Shakspeare's Othello, passim, i Perhaps, points. * The key, or screw, with which he tuned his harp. THE ANCIENT MINSTIIKLS. xl (pewter* for) silver, as a Squire Minstrel of Middlesex, that travelled the country this summer teason, unto fairs nd worshipful mens houses. From his chain hung a scutcheon, with metal and colour, resplendant upon his breast of the ancient arms of Islington." Ihis minstrel is described as belonging to that village. I suppose such as were retained by noble families wore the arms of their patrons hanging down by a silver chain, 4 as a kind of badge. From the expression of Squire Minstrel above, we may conclude there were other inferior orders, as Yeomen Minstrels, or the like. This minstrel, the author tells us a little below, " after three lowly courtsios, cleared his voice with a hern . . . and . . . wiped his lips with the hollow of his hand for 'filing his napkin, tempered a btring or two with his wrest, and after a little war I ding on his Harp for a prelude, came forth with a solemn song, warranted for story out of King Arthur's acts," &c. This song the reader will find printed in this work, vol ii. book ii. no. 3. Towards the end of the sixteenth century this class of men had lost all credit, and wi-re sunk so low in the public opinion, that in the 39th year of Elizabeth, 5 a statute was passed, by which " Minstrels, wandering abroad," were included among "rogues, vagabonds, and sturdy beggars," and were adjudged to be punished as such. This act seems to have put an end to the profession (E E 2). VII. I cannot conclude the account of the ancient English Minstrels, without remarking that they are most of them represented to have been of the North of England. There is scarce an old historical song or ballad (F F) wherein a minstrel or harper appears, but he is characterized, by way of eminence, to have been "of the North Countrye :" * and indeed the prevalence of the northern dialect in such compositions shows that this representation is real. 7 On the other The reader will remember that this was not a real minstrel, but only one persona- ting that character; his ornaments therefore were only such as outwardly represented those of a real minstrel. * As the house of Northumberland had anciently three minstrels attending on them in their castles in Yorkshire, so they still retain three in tneir service in Northumber- land, who wear the badge of the family (a silver crescent on the right arm), and are thus distributed, viz. One for the barony of Prudhoe, and two for the barony of Kothbury. These attend the court-leets and fairs held for the lord, and pay their annual suit and service at Alnwlck Castle : their Ins-triiment being the ancient Nor- thumberland bag pipe (very different in form and execution from that of the Scots ; being smaller, and blown, not with the breath, but with a small pair of follows). This, with many other venerable customs of the ani ient Lord Percys, was revived by their illustrious representatives the late Duke and Duchess of Northumberland. a Anno Dom. 1597. Vid. Pull. Stat. p. 1110, b9 Eliz. See pp. 48, 49, ver. 156, 18u, &c. i Giraldus Cambrensis, wriiing in the reign of King Henry II., mentions a very extraordinary habit or propensity, which then prevailed in the north of England, lie- yond the Humber, for " symphonious harmony " or singing " In two parts, the one murmuring in the base, and the other warbling in the acute or treble." (I ue l>r. Buruey's version, vol. ii. p 108.) This he do-cribes as practised by their very children from the cradle; and he dt rives it from the Danes [so Dad signifies in our old wiitersjand Norwegians, who long overran ami in effect new-peopled the norihern puns of Knglund, where alone this manner of sinking prevailed Vide Cambriae Descriptio, cap. 13, and in Burney. nbi supra. Giraldus ia probably right as to the origin u r deriva'ion of this practice, for the Danish and Icelandic Scalds bad carr vl the arts of Poetry and Staging Xlii AN ESSAY ON hand, the scene of the finest Scottish ballads is laid in the south of Scotland, which should seem to have been peculiarly the nursery of Scottish minstrels. In the old song of Maggy Latvder, a piper is asked, by way of distinction, '' Come ze frae the border ?" 8 The martial spirit constantly kept up and exercised near the frontier of the two kingdoms, as it furnished continual subjects for their songs, so it inspired the inhabitants of the adjacent counties on both sides with the poweis of poetry. Besides, as our southern metropolis must have been ever the scene of novelty and refinement, the northern countries, as being most distant, would preserve their ancient manners longest, and of course the old poetry, in which those manners are peculiarly described. The reader will observe in the more ancient ballads of this collection, a caste of style and measure very different from that of contemporary poets of a higher class ; many phrases and idioms, which the minstrels seem to have appropriated to themselves, and a very remarkable licence of varying the accent of words at pleasure, in order to humour the flow of the verse, particularly in the rhymes ; as Countrie harper battel morning Ladle singer damsel loving instead of country, lady, harper, singer, &c. This liberty is but sparingly assumed by the classical poets of the same age, or even by the latter composers of heroical ballad" ; I mean, by such as pro- fessedly wrote for the press. For it is to be observed, that so long as to great perfection at the time the Danish settlements were made in the North. And it will also help to account.for the superior skill and fame of our northern minstrels and harpers aiterwards, who had preserved and transmitted the arts of their Scaldic ances- tors. See Northern Antiquities, vol. i. c. 13, p. 386, and Five Pieces of Runic Pottry, 1763, 8vo. Compare the original passage in Giraldus, as given by Sir John Hawkins, i. 408, and by Dr. Burney, ii. 108, who are both at a loss to account for this peculiarity, and therefore doub^ the fact. The c edit of Giraldus, whi< h hath been attacked by some partial and bigoted antiquaries, the reader will find defended in that learned and curious work, " Antiquities of Ireland, by Edward Ledwich, LL.D. &c., of Dublin, 179H," 4to, p. 207, & seqq. 8 This line being quoted from memory, and given as old Scottish poetry is now usually printed (see Note at the end of the Glossary), would have been readily corrected by the copy published in "Scottish 'Songs," 1794, 2 vols. 12mo, i. p. 267, thus (though apparently corrupted from the Scottish idiom), " Live you upo' the Border ? " had not all confidence been destroyed by its being altered in the " Historical Essay " prefixed to that publication (p. ex.) to " Ye live upo' the Border," the better to favour a position, that many of the Pipers " might live upon the border, for the conveniency of attending fairs, &c., in both kingdoms." But whoever is acquainted with that part of England, knows that on the English frontier, rude mountains and barren wastes reach almost across the island, scarcely Inhabited by any but solitary shepherds, many of whom durst not venture into the opposite border on account of the ancient lends and subsequent disputes concerning the Debatable Lands, which separated the boundaries of the two kingdoms, as well as the estates of the two great families of Percy and Douglas, till these disputes were settled, not many years since, by arbitra- tion between the present Lord Douglas and the late Duke and Duchess of Northumber- land. THE ANCIENT MINSTRELS. the minstrels subsisted, they seem never to have designer! their rhymes for literary publication, and probably never committed them to writing themselves : what copies are preserved of tht-m were doubtless taken down from their mouths. But as the old Minstrels gradually wore out, a new race of Ballad-writers succeeded, an inferior sort of minor poets, who wrote narrative songs merely for the press. Instances of both may be found in the reign of Elizabeth. The two latest pieces in the genuine strain of the old minstrelsy that I can discover are Nos. iii. and iv. of book iii. in this volume. Lower than these I cannot trace the old mode of writing. The old minstrel ballads are in the northern dialect, abound with antique words and phrases, are extremely incorrect, ard run into the utmost licence of metre; they have also a romantic wildness, and are in the true spirit of chivalry. The other sort are written in exacter measure, have a low or subordinate correctness, sometimes bordering on the insipid, yet often well adapted to the pathetic; these are generally in the southern dialect, exhibit a more modern phraseology, and are commonly descriptive of more modern manners. To l>e sensible of the difference between them, let the reader compare in this volume No. iii. of book iii. with No. xi. of book ii. Towards the end of Queen Elizabeth's reign (as is mentioned above) the genuine old minstrelsy seems to have been extinct, and thenceforth the ballads that were produced were wholly of the latter kind, and these came forth in such abundance, that in the reign of James I. they began to be collected into little miscellanies, under the name of Garlands, and at length to be wiitten purposely for such collections (P F 2). P.S. By way of Postscript, should follow here the discussion of the question whether the term Minstrels was applied in English to Singers, and Composers of Songs, &c., or confined to Musicians only. But it in reserved for the concluding note (o o). NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS BEFERUED TO IN THE FOREGOING ESSAY. (A) The Minstrels, terres, Conteours, et Jugleours : qui sont Trouveurs, Chantres, Conteurs. Jongleurs, ou Jugleurs, c'est a dire, Menestrivrs chantans avec la viole." We see, then, that Jongleur, Jugleur (Lat. Joculator, Juglator), was a peculiar name appropriated to the Minstrels. " Les Jongleurs ne faisoient que chanter les poesies sur leurs instruments. On les appelloit aussi Mencstrels :" says Fontenelle, in his Mist, du Theat. Franf., prefixed to his Life of Corneille. (c) Successors of the ancient Bards."] That the Minstrels in many respects bore a strong resemblance both to the British Bards and to the Danish Scalds, appear from this, that the old monkish writers express them all, without distinction, by the same names in Latin. Thus Geoffrey of Monmouth, himself a Welshman, speaking of an old pagan British king, who excelled in singing and music so far as to be esteemed by his country- men the patron deity of the Bards, uses the phrase J)eus Joculatorum ; which is the peculiar name given to the English and French Minstrels.* In like manner, William Mahnesbury, speaking of a Danish king's assuming the profession of a Scald, expresses it by J^rofessus Mimurn; which wai another name given to the Minstrels in Middle Latiuity. 7 Indeed Du Cange, in his Glossary, quotes a writer, who positively asserts that the Minstrels of the Middle Ages were the same with the ancient Bards. I shall give a large extract from this learned glossographer, as he relates many curious particulars concerning the profession and arts of the Minstrels ; whom, after the monks, he stigmatizes by the name of Scurrce ; though he ac- knowledges their songs often tended to inspire virtue. " Ministelli, dicti prsesertim Scurrce, Mimi, Joculatores." .... "Ejusmodi Scurrarum munus erat principes non suis duntaxat ludicris oblectare, sed et eorum aures variis avorum, adeoque ipsorum principum laudibus, non sine assentatione, cum cantilenis et musicis instruments demulcere . . . "Interdum etiam virorum insignium et heroum gesta, aut explicata et jocunda narratione commemorabant, aut suavi vocis inflexione, tidibusque decantabant, quo sic dominorum, caHerorumque qui his intererant ludicris, nobilium animos ad virtutem capessendam, et summorum virorum imita- tionem accenderent : quod fuit olim apud Gallos Bardorum ministerium, ut auctor est Tacitus. Neque enim alios a Ministellis, veterum Galloram Bardos fuisse pluribus probat Henricus Valesius ad 15 Ammiaui Chronicou Bertrandi Guesclini. " Qui veut avoir renom des bons et des vaillans 11 dolt aler souveut a la plule et au champs Kt estre en la bataille, ainsy que fu Hollans, Les Quatre Kils Haimon, et Cbarlon li plus grans, Li dus Lions de Bourges, et Guiuns de Connans, Perceval 11 Galois, l-aucelot, et Tristans, Alexandria, Artus, Godfroi li Sachans, JDe quoy cils MKNESTBIEBS font les nobles ROMAICS." "Nicolaus de Braia describens solenne convivum, quo post inaugura- tiottem suam proceres excepit Lud. VIII. rex Francorum, ait inter ipeiui Vide notes (B) (K) (Q). f Vide note (N). FOREGOING ESSAY. Mnvivii apparatuin, in medium p r odiisse Minium, qui regis laudes aa cytharam decantavit." Our author theu gives the lines at length, which begin thus, 14 Dumque fovent genium geniali tnunere Bacchi, Sectare commixto earns rtmovente Lya-o Principis a fade, cithanu celeberrimus arte Assurgit Minins. ars imisicu qiMn d-coraviL Hie ergo chorda rft-onante subintulit ista : Inclyte rex regum. probitatis i-temrnate vernans, Quern vigor et virtus extllit in auhera fania?," ic. The rest may be seen in Du Cange, who thus proceeds, " Mitto reliqna similia. ex quibus omnino patet ejusmodi Mimorum et Ministellorum cantilenas ad yirtutem principes excitasse. ... Id prasertim in pugn praecinctu, dominis suis occinebant, ut martium ardorem in eorum animis concitarent: cujusrnodi cantum C maine I rove nee, qui mult i< rt plentive I >e vins, de bois, d'aigue, derive, As LE TOCHS as MENKSTBKUS 'jui s nt ;iui|iio> luxurieus Le douna toute et depart i." (D) The Poet ard. the Minstrel early vitk us became ttco persons.] The word Scald comprehended both characters among the Danes, nor do I know that they had any peculiar name for either of them separate. But it was not so with the Anglo-Saxons. They called a poet 8ceop, and LeoTipyhra : the last of these comes from Leo%, a song; and the former answers to our old word Maker (Gr. IIOITJT^S), being derived from Scippan or Fceopan, forntare, facere, finyere, creare(Ang. to shape). As for the Minstrel, they distinguished him by the peculiar appellation of Dh^man, and perhaps by the more simple title of Heappepe. Harper. [See below, Notes (it) (i)]. This last title, at least, is often given to a Minstrel by our most am-irut English rhymists. Sec in this work, vol. i. p. 48, &c., vol. ii. book ii. no. 7, &c. (E) Minstrels . . . at the hc'isa of the great, n, cquos, seu te tes,* quos pfers la Lang. Fr. p. 73), who says that, like the ancient Greek 'AoiSoi, ' Nus Trouverres, ainsi que ceux la, prenans leur subject sur les faitsdes vaillans (qu'ils appelloyent Geste, venant de Gesta Latin) alloyent . . . par les cours rejouir les Princes . . . Remportans de grandes recompences des seigneurs, qui bien souvent leur donnoyent jusi]ues aux robes qu'ils avoyent vestues : et lesquelles ces Jugleours ne faillovent de porter aux autres cours, a fin d'inviter les seigneurs a pareille liberalite". Ce qui a dure si longuement qu'il me soitvient acoir ten Martin Baraton (ja viel Menestrier d'Orleans), lequel aux festes et nopees batoit un tabourin d'argent, seme des plaques aussi d'argent, gravees des armoiries de ceux a qui il avoit appris a danser." Here we see that a minstrel sometimes performed the function of a dancing-master. Fontenelle even gives us to understand that these men were often rewarded with favours <>f a still higher kind. '' Les princesses et les plus graudes dames y joignoient souvent leurs faveurs. Elles etoient fort foibles centres les beaux esprits.' Hint, du ThecJ. We are not to wonder, then, that this profession should be followed by men of the first quality, particu- larly the younger sons and brothers of great houses. " Tel qui par les partages de sa famille n'avoit que la moitie' ou le quart d une vieux chateaux bien seigneurial, alloit quelque temps courir le monde en rimant, et revenoit acquerir le reste de Chateau."' Fontenelle, Hist, du Theat. We see, then, that there was no improbable fiction in those ancient songs and romances, which are founded on the story of minstrels being beloved The Minstrels in France were received with great magnificence in the 14th century. Fniissart. describing a Christmas enteriainm- nt given by the Comt de Foix. tells us that " tliere were many Myn>trels, as well of bys own as of t-traungers, and e.iche of them dyd their devoyre in their faculties. The same day the Krle of Foix gave to Haraule . jeperct) oft fia rit>e fie he psep op jelypeope ylt>e [secular] state set to the time in which he was of an advanced age ; -\ he nseppe sem^ leoj> jekopnooe. ] he poppon opt. in jebeoppcipe and he never any song learned. And he therefore OFT in an entertain- ?nne ?acp paep bhppe inrm^a jetjemet) J5 hi nieut, when there was for merriment-sake adjudged [or decreed] that they talle pceoltian tuph ent>eby]Voneppe be heappan pinjan. fionne ALL should through their turns by [to the] HARP SING ; when he jepeah ?a heajipan him nealaecan. fionne apap he pop. pceome ppam he saw the HARP him approach, then arose he FOR SHAME from ?am pymle. -j ham eot>e ro hip huj-e." the supper, and home yode [went] to his house. Bed. Hist. Eccl. 4 Smith, Cantab. 1722, fol. p. 597. In this version of Alfred's it is observable, (1) that he has expressed the Latin word cantare by the Anglo-Saxon words " be heappan pmjan," sing to the liarp, as if they were synonymous, or as if his countrymen had no idea of singing unaccompanied with the harp: (2) that when Bede simply says, surgebat a media ccend, he assigns a motive, " ajiap pop. pceome." arose for shame : that is, either from an austerity of manners, cr from nis being deficient in an accomplishment which so generally prevali-d among his countrymen. FOREGOING ESSAY. lill (i) The word Glee, which peculiarly denoted tl'dr art, ifc,] This word Glee s derived from the Anglo-Saxon liijj [Gligg], Jfusica, Music, jiHtns't('Cl>l) (Somn.). This is the common radix, whence arises such a variety of terms and phrases relating to the minstrel art, as atlbrds the strongest internal proof, that this profession was extremely common and jx>pular here before the Norman Conquest. Thus we have I. (1) DliJ> [Gliw], Mimus, a Minstrel. Dli^man, jhjmon, jlunan, [Glee-man 2 ], Histrio, Mimns, Pantvmimus ; all common names in Middle Latinity for a Minstrel : and Soniner ac- cordingly renders the original by a $fUn?trcl, a $Iai1tr OH a Ctmfcrd Or CabCT. He adds, a Jfftffar, but although the. Fythel or Fiddle was an ancient instrument, by which the Joijclar or Minstrel sometimes ac- companied his song (see Warton, i. 17), it is probable that Somner annexes here only a modern sense to the word, not having at all investigated the ubject. JDliunen, jlujmen [Glee-men], Histriones, Minstrels. Hence Dlrjmanna-yppe. Orchestra vel Pulpitus. The place where the Min- strels exhibited their performances. (2) But their most proper and expressive name was Dhphleobjuent). Musieus, a $JUnjStrcI ; and Dhphleoppient>hca. Musieus, Musical. These two words include the full idea of the minstrel character, expressing at once their music and singing, being compounded of Clip, Musieus, Mimus, a Musician, Minstrel, and Leoft, Carmen, a Song. (3) From the above word Eli?;5, the profession itself was called ijli^cpsepr [Glig- or Glee-craft]. Musica, ffbtrivnia, Mimica, Gesticulatio : which Somner rightly gives in English, $fttnj$trrfrfB, ifttmtcal <&flStt- rulattDIl, iHummrrn. He also adds, tage*plaj)tn|J ; but here again I think he substitutes an idea too modern, induced by the word Jfistrionia. which in Middle Latinity only signifies the minstrel art. However, it should seem that both inimical gesticulation and a kind of rude exhibition of characters were sometimes attempted by the old minstrels: but * Gleeman continued to be the name given to a Minstrel both in England and Scotland aliiiu-t as long as this order of men continued. In Iv Brunne's metrical version of Bishop ijro.-thead's Manuel de Peche, A.D. 1303 (see Warton, i. 61), we have this, " Gode men, ye shall lere When ye any uleman here." Fubyan (in his Chronicle, 1533, f. 32) translating the passage from Geoffrey of llnnmouth, quoted below in p. ixxix, note (K), renders Deus Joculatarum, by God of Gleemen. Warton's Hitt. Eng. Poet. Diss. 1. Fabyan died in 1592. Dunbar, who lived in the same century, describing, in one of his poems, entitled The Daunce," what passed in the infernal regions "aiuangU the Feynais," says, " Na Menstralls playit to thame, but dowt For Git-men thuire wer baldin out. Be day and eke by nycht." See Poems from Bannatyne's MS. Edinb. 1770, 12mo, p. 30. S. at Cambridge reads here, Glevx men. JV NOTES ON THE (4) As musical performance was the leading idea, so Ehopian, Cantus musicos edcre ; and Ehjbeam. jlipbeam [Glig- or Glee-team"). Tympanum ; a C"unbr(I M Caber. (So Somn.) Hence Elypian. Tympanum pulsare ; and Elip-me'oen : Ehypiende-mat>en [Glee-maiden]. Tympnnistria : whi?h Somner renders a i^Ijr -ifltnS'tl'Cl ; for it should seem that they had females of this profession : one name for which was also Elypbyt>ene]'rjia. (5) Of congenial derivation to the foregoing, is Elypc [Glywc]. Tibia, a Pipe or Flute. Both this and the common radix Ehgj, are with great appearance of truth derived by Junius from the Icelandic (SltgfJUt, Flatus: as supposing the first attempts at music among our Gothic ancestors, were from wind- instruments. Vide Jun. Etym. Ang. V. Glee. II. But the Minstrels, as is hinted above, did not confine themselves to th mere exercise of their primary arts of music and song, but occasionally used many other modes of diverting. Hence, from the above root was derived, in a secondary sense, (1) Eleo, and pmj-um jlip. Facetiae. Elsopjan^'ocart'; tO \tt, or ic mcrrj) t (Somn.) and Eleopien-o.ji'ocons; j&fttng, S'pra&ttlg mCTTtlu : (Somn.) Eh^man also signified Josista, a Jester. Elij-jamen [Glee-games], joci. Which Somner renders fflrrrttltC Hts', or mrrrg jJoSfeS, or Cricfctf, or ^parts' ; ambalcsi. (2) Hence, again, by a common metonymy of the cause for the effect, Ehe, gaudium, alacritas, latitia, facetiae; 3101), iflirtt), SIaiJlirjSS, C!)PnrfulnjjS, <-Ite [Somner]. Which last application of the word still continues, though rather in a low debasing sense. III. But however agreeable and delightful the various arts of the Minstrels might be to the Anglo-Saxon laity, there is reason to believe that, before the Norman Conquest at least, they were not much favoured by the clergy, particularly by those of monastic profession. For, not to mention that the sportive talents of these men would be considered by those austere ecclesiastics as tending to levity and licentiousness, the Pagan origin of their art would excite in the monks an insuperable prejudice against it. The Anglo-Saxon Harpers and Gleemen were the immediate successors and imitators of the Scandinavian Scalds, who were the great promoters "f Pagan superstition, and fomented that spirit of cruelty and c.truge in their countrymen, the Danes, which fell with such peculiar severity on the religious and their convents. Hence arose a third application of words derived from Elijj, Minstrelsy, in a very unfavourable sense, and thi* chiefly prevails in books of religion and ecclesiastic discipline. Thus (1) Elij, is Ludibrium, laughing to scorn. 9 So in S. Basil. Regul. 11 * To qleele, is used in Shakspearc for to make sport, to jett,' 4c. FOKEGOING ESSAY. IT (Ii h.TjrTjon him ro jlije ha!pcnt>e inine^un^e. Lvdvsrio ha!jebant sa/u- titrem ejws afJmonltioneni (I")- This sense of the word was perhaps not 111 founded ; for as the sport of rude uncultivated minds often arises from ridicule, it is not improbable but the old Minstrels often indulged a vein of this sort, and that of no very delicate kind. So again. Eli-man was also used to signify Scurra, a 5.1UCIJ .jJoStft. (Somn.) Eli rt -eojin. Dicax, Scurriles jocos supra quam par est amans. Otficium Episcopate, U. Llij.au. Scurrilibus o'/lectamentis indulgere : Scurram agere. Canon. Edgar, 58. ('2) Again, as the various attempts to please, practised by an order of men who owed their support to the public favour, might be considered by those grave censors as mean and debasing: Hence came from the same root, Ehpep. Parasitus, Assentator ; a JFafoWfr, a Cnflgcr, a |Jara$ttf, a flatterer. 4 (Somn.) IV. To return to the Anglo-Saxon word Eli^j ; notwithstanding the various secondary senses in which this word (as we have seen above) was so early applied : yet The derivative Glee (though now chiefly used to express merriment and joy) long retained its first simple meaning, and is even applied by Chaucer to signify music and miiistrelsy. Vide Jun. Etym. e. g. " For though that the best harper upon live Would on the beste !-ouniincttd n vir so tharpe Jt shoulde inakin every wight to dull To heare is GLEE, and of his strokes 1'ul." Troyl. lib. ii. 1030 Junius interprets Glees by Musiea fnstrumenta, in the following passages f Chaucer's Third Boke of FAME : " . . Stodrn . . the castell all aboutin Of all manner of Mynstr let Ami Jeitnurt that tclli-n tales Both of wepyng and of gume. And ot all that long th unto fame; There berde 1 pluy on a harpe That suwne'l both well and c.harpe Hym Orpheu> full craftily ; And on i hi- syde fast by The preceding list of Anglo-Saxon words, so full and copious beyond anything that ever yet appeared in print on this subject, was extracted irom Mr. Lye's cuii us Anglo- Saxon Lc.\icn, in MS., but the arrangement here is the Editor's own. It had, however, received the ^unction ol Mr Lye's approbation, and would doubtless have been rtceivtd int.' his printed copy, had he lived to publish it himself. It should al-o be oi>servid. for the sake ol future researches, that without the a>sist- ance nf tlie old Kngl sh interpn-tai ions given by Somner, in his Anglo-Saxon Mctionury, the Kditor ol thi~ lnx>k never could have discovered that (*Ue signified JtiinsUClsr> ul Uliymun a J-RlUbtrtl. ri MOTES ON THE Sate the harppr Orion; And Eacides Cbirion ; And other harpers many one, And the Briton Glaskyrion." After mantioning these, the great masters of the a 1 1, he proceeds: " And small Harpers with her Glees Sat under them in divers sees." ' Again, a little below, the poet having enumerated the performers on al the different sorts of instruments, adds, " There sawe I syt in other sees Playing upon other sundry Gleet, Which that I cannot neven 5 More than starres ben in heven," &c. Upon the above lines I shall only make a few observations : (1) That by Jestours, I suppose we are to understand Gestours; scil. th relaters of Gests (Lat. Gesta), or stories of adventures both comic and tragical, whether true or feigned ; I am inclined to add, whether in prose or verse. [Compare the record below, in marginal note subjoined to (v 2).] Of the stories in prose, I conceive we have specimens in that singular book the Gesta Romanorum, and this will account for >ts seemingly improper title. These were evidently what the French called Conteours, or Story Tellers, and to them we are probably indebted for the first prose Romances of chivalry ; which may be considered as specimens of their manner. (2) That the " Briton Glaskyrion," whoever he was, is apparently the same person with our famous harper Glasgerion, of whom the reader will rind a tragical ballad in vol. ii. no. vii. b. ii. In that song may be seen an instance of what was advanced above in note (E), of the dignity of the minstrel profession, or at least of the artifice with which the minstrels endeavoured to set off its importance. Thus " a king's son is represented as appearing in the character of a harper or minstrel in the court of another king. He wears a collar (or gold chain) as a person of illustrious rank, rides on horseback, and is admitted to the embraces of a king's daughter." The Minstrels lost no opportunity of doing honour to their art. (3) As for the word Glees, it is to this day used in a musical sense, and applied to a peculiar piece of composition. Who has not seen the advertise- ments proposing a reward to him who should produce the best Catch, Canon, or Glee i * Geoffrey of Monmouth is probably here describing the appearar ce of the Joculatoret of diverting, which they superadded to the composing and singing to" the harp heroic FOREGOING E88AY. Ivii P;t>s;ige of the same author, where it is applied as equivalent to Cantor. See lib. i. cap. 2'2, where, speaking of an ancient (perhaps fabulous) British king, he says, " Hie omnes Cantores quos praccedens atas habucrat et io modulis et in omnibus musicis instrumentis excedebat ; ita ut Deus Joculatorum videretur." Whatever credit is due to Geoffrey as a relater of facts, he is certainly as good authority as any fer the signification of words, (\,) Two remarkable facts."] Both of these facts are recorded by William of Malmesbury ; and the first of them, relating to Alfred, by Ingulphus also. Now Ingulphus (afterwards Abbot of Croyland) was near forty years of age at the time of the Conquest, 7 and consequently was as proper a judge of the Saxou manners as if he had actually written his history before that event ; he is therefore to be considered as an Ante-Norman writer ; so that, whether the fact concerning Alfred be true or not, we are assured from his testimony, that the Joculutor or Minstrel was a common character among the Anglo-Saxons. The same also may be inferred from the relation of William of Malmesbury, who outlived Ingulphus but thirty-three years. 8 Both these writers had doubtless recourse to innumerable records and .\uthentic memorials of the Anglo-Saxon times which never descended down to us ; their testimony therefore is too positive and full to be overturned by the mere silence of the two or throe slight Anglo-Saxon epitomes that are now remaining. Vide note (G). As for Asser Menevensis, who has given a somewhat more particular detail of Alfred's actions, and yet takes no notice of the following story, it will not be difficult to account for his silence, if we consider that he was a rigid monk, and that the Minstrels, however acceptable to the laity, were never much respected by men of the more strict monastic profession, espe- cially before the Norman Conquest, whta they would be considered as brethren of the Pagan Scalds. 9 Asser therefore might not regard Alfred's skill in Minstrelsy in a very favourable light ; and might be induced to drop the circumstance related below, as reflecting, in his opinion, no great honour on his patron. songs, &c., which they inherited from their own progenitors the Bards and Scalds of the ancient Celtic and Gothic nations. The Longobkrdi bad, like other Northern p> ople. Drought these with them into Italy. For in the year 774, when Charlemagne entered Italy and found bis passage impeded, he was met by a minstrel of Lombardy. whose soug promised him success and victory. "Comigit Joculatorem ex Longobardorum gente ad Carolum venire, et C'ant'unculam a se compoiitam, rotando in conspectn suorum cantare." Tom. ii. p. 2, Chron. Mona*t. IS' oval, lib. Hi. cap x. p. 717. (T. Warton's Hist. vol. ii Emend, of vol. i. p. \13.) ' Sat us loan, scripsit 109i. obiit 1109. Tanner. Obiit anno 1142. Tanner. s (See above, p. liv.> Both Ingulph. ami Will, of Miilmcsb. bad been very con- versant among the Normans, who appear not to have uad such prejudices against tht Minstrels as the Anglo-Saxons had. NOTKS ON THR The learned editor of Alfred's Life in Latin, after having examined the scene of action in person, and weighed all the circumstances of the event, determines, from the whole collective evidence, that Alfred could nevei have gained the victory he did, if he had not with his own eyes previously seen the disposition of the enemy by such a stratagem as is here described. Vide Annot. in J21fr. Mag. Vitam, p. 33. Oxon. 1678, fol. (M) Alfred . . . assumed the dress and character of a Minstrel.'] " Fingens se Joculatoi 3m, assumpta cithara," &c. Ingulphi Hist. p. 869. " Sub specie Jtfimi . . . ut Jocu'atorice professor artis.'' Gul. Malmesb. 1. ii. c. iv. p. 43. That both Jocit'ator and Alimus signify literally a Minstrel, see proved in notes (B) (K) (N) (Q) &c. See also note (G G). Malmesbury adds, " Unius tantum tidelissimi fruebatur conscientii." As this confidant does not appear to have assumed the disguise of a Minstrel himself, I conclude that he only appeared as the Minstrel's attendant. Now that the Minstrel had sometimes his servant or attendant to carry his harp, and even to sing to his music, we have many instances in the old metrical Romances, and even some in this present collection. See vol. i. b. i. Song vi. ; vol. ii. b. ii. Song vii., &c. Among the French and Provencal bards, the Trwverre, or Inventor, was generally attended with his singer, who sometimes also played on the harp, or other musical instru- ment. " Quelque fois durant le repas d'un prince on voyoit arriver un Trouverre inconnu avec ses Menestrels ou Jcafleours, et il leur faisoit chanter sur leurs harpes ou vielles les vers qu'i! avoit composes. Ceui qui faisoient les soxs aussi bien que les MOTS etoient les plus estime's." Fontenelle. Hist. dt Theatre. That Alfred excelled in music is positively asserted by Bale, who doubtless had it from some ancient MS., many of which subsisted in his time that are now lost : as also by Sir J. Spelman, who, we may conclude, had good authority for this anecdote, as he is known to have compiled his life of Alfred from authentic materials collected by his learned father: this writer informs us that Alfred " provided himself of musitians, not common, or such as knew but the practick part, but men skilful in the art itself, whose skill and service he yet further improved with his own instruction," p. 199. This proves Alfred at least to have understood the theory of music ; and how could this have been acquired without prac- tising on some instrument ? which we have seen above, note (H), was so extremely common with the Anglo-Saxons, even in much ruder times, that Alfred himself plainly tells us, it was shameful to be ignorant of it. And this commonness might be one reason why Asser did not think it of con sequence enough to be particularly mentioned in his short life of that great monarch. This rigid monk may also have esteemed it a slight ana frivolous accomplishment, savouring only of worldly vanity. He has, however, particularly recorded Alfred's fondness for the oral Anglo-Saxon poems and songs [' Saxonica poemata die nocteque . . . audiens . . . memo- riter retinebat," p. 16. " Carmina Saxonica memoriter discere," &c. p. 43, et ib.}. Now the poems learnt by rote, among all ancient unpolished nations, are ever songs chanted by the reciter, and accompanied with instrumental melody. 1 i Thus Lei/o, the Saxon word far a Poem, is properly a Song, and its derivative Lied FOBEGOING ESSAY. lix (N) With his harp in his hand, and dressed like a Minstrel.'] " Asstmtpta ir.anu cithara . . . professus Mimnin, qui hujusmodi arte stipem quoti- dianam mercaretur . . . Jussus abire pretium Cactus accepit." Malmest. 1. ii. c. 6. We see here that which was rewarded was (not any mimickry or tricks, but) his singing (Cuntus); this proves, beyond dispute, what was the nature of he entertainment Aulaff afforded them. Perhaps it is needless by this time to prove to the reader that Mimus, in Middle Latinity, signifies a Minstrel, and Alimia, Minstrelsy, or the Minstrel-art. Should he doubt it, let him cast his eye over the two following extracts from Du Cange : ; ' MIMUS : Musicus, qui instrumentis mnsicis canit. Leges Palatinae Jacobi II. Reg. Majoric. In domibus principum, ut tradit antiquitas, Mimi eu Joculatores licite possunt esse. Nam illorum officium tribuit laetitiam . . . Quapropter volumus et ordinamus, quod in nostra curia Mimi debeant esse quinque, quorum duo sint tubicinatores, et tertius sit tabelerius [i. e. a player on the tabor 2 J. Lit. remiss, ann. 1374. Ad Mimos cornicitantes, seu bucinantes accesserunt." ' MIMIA, Ludus Mimicus, Instrumentum [potius, Ars Joculatoria]. Ann. 1482 .... miniia et cantu victum acquire." Du Cange, Gloss, torn, iv. 1762. Supp. c. 1225. (0) To hate been a Dane.~] The northern historians produce such instances of the great respect shown to the Danish Scalds in the courts of our Anglo-Saxon kings, on account of their musical and poetic talents (notwithstanding they were of so hatei'ul a nation), that if a similar order of men had not existed here before, we cannot doubt but the profession would have been taken up by such of the natives as had a genius for poetry and music. ' Extant Rhythmi hoc ipso [Islandico] idiomate Angliae, Hyberniaeque Regibus oblati et liberaliter compensati, &c. Itaque nine colligi potest linguam Danicam in aulis vicinorum regum principumque familiarem signifies a Ballad to this day in the German tongue : and Cantare, we have seen above, is by Alfred himself rendered Be heajipan j'lnj^an. 2 The Tabour or Tabourin was a common instrument with the French Minstrels, as it had also b?en with the Anglo-Saxon (vide p. lii) : thus in an ancient Fr. MS. in the Hurl. Collection (2253, 75) a Minstrel is described as riding on horseback and bearing his labour : " Entour son col porta son Tabour, Depeynt de Ur, e riche Acotir." See also a passage in Menage's Diction. tym. [v. MESESTRIBKS], where Tabourt is used as synonymous to itertettriert. Another frequent instrument with them was the Title. This, I am told, is the name of an instrument at this duy, which differs from a guitar, in that the player turn* round a handle a: the top of the instrument, and with bis other haul pUy on some keys that touch the chords and produce the sound. See I)r. Burney's account of the Vielle. vol. ii. p. 263, who thinks it the same with the RoU, or wheel. See p. 270 in the note. " 11 ot un Jouglror a Setis, (jui navoll yas sovent robe entiere ; boT'-nt estoit sans sa Viele." t. ii. 14. 18J. x NOTES OX THi fuisse, non secus ac hodie in aulis principum pertgrina idiomata in deliciis haberi cernimus. Imprimis Vita Egilli Skallagrimii id invicto argumento adstruit. Quippe qui interrogatus ab Adalsteino, Anglias rege, quomoda manus Eirici lilodoxii, Northumbriae regis, postquam in ejus potestatem venerat, evasisset, cujus filium propinquosque occiderat, . . rei statirn ordinem metro, nunc satis obscuro, exposuit, nequaquam ita narraturus non intelligenti." Vide plura apud Torfaeii Prefat. ad Oread. Hist. fol. This same Egill was no less distinguished for his valour and skill as a soldier, than for his poetic and singing talents as a Scald ; and he was such a favourite with our king Athelstan, that he at one time presented him with " duobus annulis et scriniis, duobus bene magnis argento repletis. . . . Quinetiam hoc addidit, ut Egillus quidvis praeterea a se petens, ootineret ; bona mobilia, sive immobilia, praebendam vel prasfec- turas. Egillus porro regiam munificentiam gratus excipiens, Carmen Encomiasticon, a se lingual Norvegic (quae turn his regnis communis) jompositum, regi dicat ; ac pro eo, duas marcas auri puri (pondus marcae . . 8 uncias sequabat) honorarii loco retulit." Arngr. Jon. Rer. Islandic. lib. ii. p. 129. See more of Egill, in the " Five Pieces of Runic Poetry," p. 45, whose poem (there translated) is the most ancient piece all in rhyme that is, I conceive, now to be found in any European language, except Latin. See EgilPs Islandic original, printed at the end of the English version in the said Five Pieces, &c. (p) If the Saxons had not been accustomed to have Minstrels of their own . . . and to show favour and respect to the Danish Scalds,] if this had not been the case, we may be assured, at least, that the stories given in the text could never have been recorded by writers who lived so near the Anglo-Saxon times as Malmesbury aid Ingulphus, who, though they might be deceived as to particular facts, could not be so as to the general manners and customs which prevailed so near their own times among their ancestors. (Q) In Domesday Book, &c.] Extract, ex Libro Domesday : et vide Anstis Ord. Gart. ii. 304. Fol. 162. Col. 1. 3Sertric ^ncutator 0jjtj$ Ijafot tit fctttag, et tit v. car. nil rrtrtf. That Joculator is properly a Minstrel, might be inferred from the two foregoing passages of Geoffrey of Monmouth (v. note K), where the word is used as equivalent to Citharista in one place, and to Cantor in the other : this union forms the precise idea of the character. But more positive proofs have already been offered, vide supra, pp. xlvii, xlviii, Iviii, Ixvi, note. See also Du Gauge's Gloss, vol. iii. c. 1543. **JOGULATOB pro Joculator. Consilium Masil. an. 1381. Nullus Mi- nifitreys, Jogulator, audeat pinsare vel sonare instrumentum cujuscumqua generis," &c., &c. As the Minstrel was termed in French Jongleur and Jwjleur, so he was FOREGOING ESSAY. M called in Spanish Jvtglar and Juglar. " Tenemos canciones y versos para recitar mui antiguos y memorias ciertas de los Juglares, que assistian en los banquetes, como los que pinta Homero." Prolog, a las Corned, de Cervantes, 1749, 4to. " El anno 1328, en las siestas de la Coronacion del Rey, Don Alonso e 1 . IV. dt Aragon, . . . .* el Juglar Ramaset canto una Villanesca de la Com- posicion del . . infante [Don Pedro] : y otro Juglar, llamado Novellet, recitb y represento en voz y sin cantar mas de 600 versos, que hizo el Infante en el metro que llamaban Rima Vulgar." Ibid. " Los Trobadores inventaron la Gaya Ciencia .... estos Trobadores erau casi todos de la primera Nobleza. Es verdad, quern ya entonces se havian entrometido entre las diversiones Cortesanos, los Cantadores, los Cantores, los Juglares, los Truanes, y los Bufones." Ibid. In England, the King's Juglar continued to have an establishment in the royal household down to the reign of Henry VIII. [Vide note (C c).] But in what sense the title was there applied does not appear. In Barklay's Egloges, written circ. 1514, Juglars and Pipers are mentioned together. Egl. iv. Vide T. Warton's Hist. ii. 254. (R) A valiant warrior, named Taillefer, $c.~\ See Du Cange, who produces this as an instance, " Quod Ministellorum munus interdum praestabant milites probatissimi. Le Roman De Vacce, MS. " Quant il virent Normanz venir Mout veifsiez Englriz fremir .... Taillefer qui intuit bien cbantoit, Sur un cheval, qui tost allolt, Devant eula aloit chantant De Kallemaigne et de Koullant, Et d'Oli vier de Vassaux, Qui moururent en Kalnschevaux." " Qui quidem Taillefer a Gulielmo obtinuit ut primus in hostes irrueret, inter quos fortiter dimicando occubuit." Gloss, torn. iv. 769, 770, 771. " Les anciennes chroniques nous apprennent, qu'en premier rang de I'Arme'e Normande, un ecuyer nomine Taillefer, monte' sur un cheval arme, chanta la Chanson de Roland, qui fut si long tems dans les benches des Francois, sans qu'il soit reste le momdre fragment. Le Taillefer apres avoir entonne' la chanson que les soldats re'petoient, se jetta le premier parmi les Anglois, et fut tue." Voltaire, Add. Hist. Univ. p. 69. The reader will see an attempt to restore the Chanson de Roland, with musical notes, in Dr. Burney's Hist. ii. p. 276. See mere concerning the Song of Roland, rol. ii. p. 88, note. (s) An eminent French writer, &c.] " M. PEvSque de la Ravaliere, qui avoit fait beaucoup de recherches sur nos anciennes Chansons, pre'tend que c'est a la Normandie que nous devons nos premiers Chansonniers, non a la Provence, et qu'il y avoit parmi nous des Chansons en langue vulgaire "Romanset Jutglar canta alt Yew . . . ifevant i o eeuyor Rey." Ckron. f Aragon, apud Da Cange. iv. 771. llii NOTES ON THB trant celles de Provenvaus, mais poste'rieurement an Regne de Phillippo I, on 4 1'aa 1100." [v. Revolutions de la Lanojue Franfoise, a la suite des 1'ocsics du Hoi de Xavarre.] " Ce seroit une ante'riorite" de plus d'uue dfiini siecle a 1'e'poque des premiers troubadours, que ieur historien Jean d Nostredame Axe a 1'an 1162," &c. Pref. a FAnthologie Franf., 8vo, 1765 This subject hath since been taken up and prosecuted at length in the Prefaces, &c., to M. Le Grand's " Fabliaux ou Contes du xii e et du xii* Siecle, Paris, 1788." 5 torn. 12mo, who seems pretty clearly to have established the priority and superior excellence of the old Rimeurs of the north of France over the Troubadours of Provence, &c. (s 2) Ti'teir own native Gleemen or Minstrels must be allowed to exist.'] Of this we have proof positive in the old metrical Romance of Horn-Child (vol. ii. no. 1, p. 95), which although from the mention of Sarazens, &c., it must have been written at least after the first Crusade in 1096, yet, from its Anglo-Snxon language or idiom, can scarce be dated later than within a century after the Conquest. This, as appears from its very- exordium, was intended to be sung to a popular audience, whether it was composed by, or for, a Gleeman or Minstrel. But it carries all the internal marks of being the production of such a composer. It appears of genuine English growth ; for after a careful examination, I cannot discover any allusion to French or Norman customs, manners, composition, or phraseology ; no quotation " as the Romance sayth :" not a name or local reference which was likely to occur to a French Rimeur. The proper names are .ill of Northern extraction. Child Horn is the son of Allof (i. e. Olaf or Olave), king of Sudenne (I suppose Sweden), by his queen Godylde or Godylt. Athulf and Fykenyld are the names of subjects. Eylmer or Ayhnere is king of Westnesse (a part of Ireland), Rymenyld is his daughter ; as Erminyld is of another king Tkwstan ; whose sons are Athyld and Beryld. At/telbrus is steward of King Aylmer, &c., &c. All these saiour only of a Northern origin, and the whole piece is exactly such a per- formance as one would expect from a Gleeman or Minstrel of the north of England, who had derived his art and his ideas from his Scaldic prede- cessors there. So that this probably is the original from which was translated the old French fragment of Dan //o>7, in the Harleian MS. 527, mentioned by Tyrwhitt (Chaucer iv. p. 68), and by T. Wartun (Hist. i. 38), whose extract from Horr.-CliiUI is extremely incorrect. Compare the style of Horn-Child with the Anglo-Saxon specimens in short verses and rhyme, which are assigned to the century succeeding the Conq'.iest, in Hicke's Thesaurus, torn. i. cap. 24, pp. 224 and 231. (TJ The different production of the sedentary composer and the rambling minstrel.'] Among the old metrical romances, a very few are addressed tc readers, or mention reading ; these appear to have been composed by writers at their desk, and exhibit marks of more elaborate structure and invention. Such is Uglamour of Artas (vol. ii. no. 20, p. 100), of which 1 find in a MS. copy in the Cotton Library, A. 2, fc.io 3, the Second Fitte thus concludes, . . . . thus ferr have I red.* FOREGOING ESSAY. Such is fpomydon (vol. ii. no. 23, p 101), of which one :( the divisions (Sign. H. ii. b. in pr. copy) ends thus, " I>et hym go, God him spede Tyll efte-soone we of him reed [i. e. read]." So ia Amys and Amylion 4 (vol. ii. no. 31, p. 102), in stanza 3rd we have " In Geste as we rede," and similar phrases occur in stanzas 34, 125, 140, 196, &c. These are all studied compositions, in which thn story is invented with more skill and ingenuity, and the style and colouring are of superior cast to such as can with sufficient probability be attributed to the ininstivls themselves. Of this class I conceive the romance of Horn-Child (mentioned in th hist note (s 2) and in vol. ii. no. 1, p. 95), which, from the naked unadorned simplicity of the story, I would attribute to such an origin. But more evidently is such the S-mire of Lovce Degree (vol. ii. no. 24, p. 101), in which is no reference to any French original, nothing like the phrase, which so frequently occurs in others, " as the Romance sayth,"* or the like. And it is just such a rambling performance as one would expect from an itinerant bard. And Such also is A lyttel Geste of Bobyn ffode, &<\. in 8 Fyttos, of which are extant two editions, 4to, in black-letter, descrioed more fully in page 57 of this volume. This is not only of undoubted English growth, but, from the constant satire aimed at abbots and their convents, &c., could not possibly have been composed by any monk in his cell. Other instances might be produced ; but especially of the former kind is Syr Launfal (vol. ii. no. 11, p. 98), the 121st stanza of which has " In Romances as we rede. " * It ought to have been observed in its proper place in vol. ii. no. 31, page 102, that Amys and Amyl ion were no otherwise " Brothers," than as beim< fast friends : as was suggested by the learned Dr. Samuel Pegge, who was so obliging as to favour the Essayist formerly with a curious transcript of this poem, accompanied with valuable illustrations, *c. ; and that it was his opinion, that both the fragment ee below, in note (z), the proper import of the word ffistriones: but it is very remarkable that this is not the word used in the grant of the Constable De Lacy to Dutton, but " Magisterium omnium Leccatoritm et Meretricium totius Cestreshire, sicut liberius ilium [sic] Magisterium teneo de Comite" (vid. Blount's Ancient Tenures, p. 156). Now, as under this grant the heirs of Dutton confessedly held for many ages a magisterial jurisdiction over all the Minstrels and Musicians of that county, and as it could not be conveyed by the word Meretrices, the natural inference is that the Minstrels were expressed by the term Leccatores. It is true, Du Cange, compiling his Glossary, could only find in the writers he consulted this word used in the abusive sense, often applied to every synonyme of the sportive and dissolute Minstrel, viz. Scurra, camVorittt -, parasitus epulo, &c. (This I conceive to be the proper arrangement of these explanations, which only express the character given to the minstrel elsewhere : see Du Cange passim, and notes (c) (E) (F) (i), vol, iii. 2, &c.) But he quotes an ancient MS. in French metre, wherein the Leccour (Lat. l.cccator) and the Minstrel are joined together, as receiving from Charlemagne a grant of the territory of Provence, and from whom the Provencal Troubadours were derived, &c. See the passage above in note (c), p. xlviii. The exception in favour of the family of Dutton is thus expressed in the Statute, Anno 39 Eliz. chap. iv. entitled, " An Act for punishment of Rogues, Vagabonds, and Sturdy Beggars." " II ... All Fencers, Bearwards, Common Players of Enterludes, and Minstrels, wandering abroad (other than Players of Enterludes belonging to any Baron of this Realm, or any other honourable Personage of greater degree, to be authorised to play under the hand and seal of arms of such Baron or Personage) : all Juglers, Tinkers, Pedlers, &c shall be adjudged and deemed Rogues, Vagabonds, and Sturdy Beggars, &c. " X. Provided always, that this Act, or any thing therein contained, or any authority thereby given, shall not in any wise extend to disinherit, prejudice, or hinder, John Dutton, of Dutton, in the county of Chester, Esquire, his heirs or assigns, for, touching or concerning any liberty, preheminence, authority, jurisdiction, or inheritance, which the said John Dutton now lawfully useth, or hath, or lawfully may or ought to use within the County-Palatine of Chester, and the County of the City of Chester, or either of them, by reason of any ancient Charters of any Kings of this Land, or by reason of any prescription, usage, or title whatso- ever." The same clauses are renewed in the last Act on this subject, passed ii the reiyn of Geo. III. e 2 liviii NOTES us THK (X) Kdicard I. .... at the knightimj of his son, , portantium multiplici ornau amictum, ut milites praecipne n'>vos inritarent, et inducerent, ad vovendum factum armorum aliquod C'~>ram signo." (Y) fly an express regulation, num circuivit ; et tandem ad Regis mensam per gradus ascendit, et quandam literam coram rege posuit, et retracto fraeno (salu- tatis ubique discutnbentibus) prout venerat ita recessit," &c. Anglic. Norm. Script. &c., Franc., 160$ "ol. p. 109. It may be observed here, that Minstrels aud others often rode on horse- back up to the royal table, when the kings were feasting in their great halls. See in this vol. p. 49, &c. The answer of the porters (when they were afterwards blamed for admitting her) also deserves attention : " Non esse moris domus regiw Histriones ab ingressu quomodolibet prohibere," &c. Walsingh. That Stow rightly translated the Latin word Histrio here by Minstrel, meaning a musician that sung, and whose subjects were stories of chivalry, admits of easy proof; for in the Gesta fiomanorum, chap cxi., Mercury i> represented as coming to Argus in the character of a Minstrel ; when he " incepit, more Histriutiico, fabulas dicere, et plerumque cantare." T. Warton, iii. p. li. And Muratori cites a passage in an old Italian chronicle, wherein mention is made of a stage erected at Milan: "Super quo Histriones cantabant, sicut modo cautatur de Rolando et Oliverio." Antich. Ital. ii. p. 6. (Observ. on the Statutes, 4th Edit. p. 362.) See also notes (E), page xlix, &c., and (F), p. li, &c. (A A) There should seem to have been women of this profession."] This may be inferred from the variety of names appropriated to them in the Middle Ages, viz. Anglo-Sax. Ehpmet>en [Gleemaiden], &c., jlvpentsemaTsen, jlypbytJeneprria (vide supra, p. liii), Fr. Jentjlcresse, Med. Hat. Joculatrij:, . Minisiraliss t, Fcemina Ministerialis, &c. Vide Du Cange, Gloss, and Suppl. See what is said in page xxxvii concerning the " Sisters of the fraternity of Minstrels;" see also a passage quoted by Dr. Burney (ii. 315) from Muratori, of the Chorus of women singing through the streets accompanied with musical instruments, in 1268. Had the female described by Walsingham been a Tombestfre, or Dancing- woman (see Tyrwhitt's Chaucer, iv. 307, and v. Gloss.), that historian would probably have used the word Saltatrix. See T. Warton, i. 240, Dote m. These Saltatrices were prohibited from exhibiting in churches and church-yards along with Joculatores, Histriones, with whom they were sometime* classed, especially by the rigid ecclesiastics, who censured, in the severest terms, all these sportive characters. Vide T. Warton, in loco citato, et vide supra notes (i-:) (Ft, fee. And here I would observe, that although Fauchet and other subsequent writers affect to arrange the several members of the minstrel profession under the different classes of Troterres (or Troubadours), Chanterres, Conteours, and Jugleurs, Sic. (vide page xlvii), as if they were distinct and separate orders of men, clearly distinguished from each other by these appropriate terms, we find no sufficient grounds for this in the oldest writers ; but the general names in Latin, Histrio, Minus, Joculato/; MmufraJhu, &c. ; in French, Menestiier, Menestrel, Jongleur, Jugkw, iic.- u Janglcrie, babillage, nillerie. FOBEGOING K8SAT. xX'. tripudiis, joreis, et solempnibus Ministralciis, prae gaudio solempnitatis ilhus continuarunt.'" Du Cange, Gloss. 773. [This was at the Coronation of King Richard II.] It was common for the Minstrels to dance, as well as to harp and sing (see above, note (E), p. xlix). Thus in the old romautt of Tirante el lilanco ; Val. 1511, the 14th cap. lib. ii. begins thus, u .l>espues que las Mesas fueron al^adas vinieron los Ministries ; y delante del Key, y de la Reyna dan9aron un rato : y despues truxeron colacion." They also, probably, among their other feats, played tricks of sleight of hand : hence the word Jugler came to signify a performer of Legerdemain ; and it was sometimes used in this sense (to which it is now appropriated) even so early as the time of Chaucer, who, in his Squire's Tale (ii. 108), speaks of the horse of brass, as like An apparence ymade by som magike, As JOOELOCRS plaien at thise festes grete." See also the Frere's Tale, 1. p. 279, v. 7049. (A A 2) Females playing on the Harp."] Thus in the old romance of Syr Degore (or Degree, vol. ii. no. 22, p. 100), we have [Sign. D. i.], " The lady, that was so faire and bright, Upon her bed she sate down ryght ; She harped notes swete and tine. [Her inayil- filled a piece of wine.] And Syr Dejiore sate him downe, For to hear the harpes sowne." The fourth lino being omitted in the pr. copy, is supplied from th folio MS. In the Sqvyr of Lowe Degree (vol ii. no. 24, p. 101), the king says to his daughter [Sign. D. i.], " Ye were wont to harpe and syng. And be the meryest in chamber comyng." In the Carle of Carlisle (vol. ii. no. 10, p. 98), we have the following passage. [Folio MS. p. 451, v. 217.] "Downe came a lady faire and free. And sett her on the Carles knee : One whiles ghee harped, another whiles song. Both of paramours and louinge among-." And in the romance of Eger and Grime (vol ii. no. 12, p. 99), we have [ibid. p. 127, col. 2], in part i. ver. 263, " The Uulye fayre of hew and hyde Shee sate downe by the bed side, Shee laid a souter [psaltry] vpon her knee, Thereon shee plaid lull luvesoinelye. . . . And her 2 maydens sweetlye sange." A similar passage occurs in part iv. ver. 129 (page 136). Hut theM instances are sufficient. NOTES ON THE (B B) A Charter to appoint a King of the Minsti ?ls.'] Entitled Carta Le Roy de Ministraulx (in Latin, Hittriones, vide Plott, p. 437). A copy of this charter is printed in Monast. Anglic, i 355 and in Blount's Law Diction. 1717 (art. King). That this was a most respectable officer, both here a.u> on the Continent, will appear from the passages quoted below, and therefore it could only have been in modern times, when the proper meaning of the original terms Miiiistraulz, and ffistriones, was forgot, that he was called King of the FiddLrs ; on which subject see below, note (E E 2). Concerning the King of the Minstrels we have the following curious passages collected by Du Cange, Gloss iv. 773. " Rex Ministellurum ; suprtmus inter Ministellos : de cujus munere, potestate in caeteros Ministellos agit Charta Henrici IV. Regis Angliae in Monast. Anglicano, torn. i. pag. 355. Charta originalis an. 1338. Je Robert Caveron Roy des Meuestreuls du Royaume de France. Alise ann. 1557 et ]362. Copin de Brequin Roy des Menestres du Royaume de France. Computum de auxiliis pro redemptione Regis Johannis, ann. 1367. Pour unc Couronne ' to my lord ' seldome, ones in ii. or iii. yeres, vj. s. viij. d." ***** " Item, my Lorde useth ande accustomyth to gyf yerely a Dookes or Erlis Trumpetts, if they com vj. together to his Lordshipp, viz. if they come yerly, vj. s. viij. d. Ande if they come but in ij. or iij. yeres, than x. s. " Item, my Lorde useth and accustometh yerly, when his Lordship is at home, to gyf to iij of the Kyngs Shams, when they com to my Lorde yerely x. s." ***** I cannot conclude this note without observing, that in this enumeration the family Minstrels seem to have been musicians only, and yet both the Earl's Trumpets and the King's Shawms are evidently distinguished from the Earl's Minstrels and the King's Jugler. Now we find Juggler* still coupled with Pipers in Barklay's Egloges, circ. 1514. (Warton, ii. oc >4.) (c C 2) The honours and rewards conferred on Minstrels, &c., in the Middle Ages, were excessive, as will be seen by many instances in these volumes ; vid. notes (E) (F), &c. But more particularly with regard to English Minstrels, &c., see T. Warton's Hist, of Eng. Poetry, i. p. 89-92, 116, &c.; ii. 105, 106, 254, &c. Dr. Burney's JJist. of Music, ii. p. 316- 319, 397-399, 427, 428. On this head, it may be sufficient to add the following passage from the Fleta, lib. ii. c. 23. " Officium Elemosinarij est, Equos relictos, Robas, Pecuniam, et alia ad Elemosinam largiter recipere et fideliter distribuere ; debet etiam Regem super Elemosinae largitione crebris summoniticnibus stimulare et prsecipue diebus Sanctorum, et rogare ne Robas suas qua magni sunt precij // istrioni/jus, Blacditoribus, Adulatoribus, Accusatoribus, vel Menestra/lis, sed ad Elemosinae suse mcrementum jubeat largiri." Et ill c. 7'2, " Ministralh, vel Adulatoris." (I) D) A species of men who <3.td not sm>d, quod edidicerunt, recitant ; puta mortem omnibus dominari, aut laudem matrimonii. Sed quoniam ea lingua monosyllabic fere constat, quemadmodum Germanica ; atque illi [so. this peculiar species of Reciters] studio vitant cantum, nobis (sc. Erasmus, who did not understand a word of English) latrare videntur verius quam loqui " Opera, torn. v. c. 958. (Jortin, vol ii. p. 193.) As Erasmus was cor- recting the vice of preachers, it was more to his point to bring an instance from the moral reciters of prose than from chanters of rhyme ; though the latter would probably be more popular, and therefore more common. (E K) This character is supposed to have been suggested by descriptions of Minstrels in the romance of Morte Arthur; but none, it seems, have been found which come nearer to it than the following, which I shall produce, not only that the reader may judge of the resemblance, but to how how nearly the idea of the Minstrel character given in this Essay corresponds with that of our old writers. Sir Lancelot having been affronted by a threatening abusive letter, which Mark King of Cornwall had sent to Queen Guenever, wherein he " spake shame by her, and i>ir Lancelot," is comforted by a kiiight named Sir Dinadan, who tells him, " I will make a Lay for him, and when it is made, I shall make an Harper to sing it before him. So anon he went and made it, and taught it an Harper, that hyght Elyot ; and when hee eould it, hee taught it to many Harpers. And so ... the Harpers went straight unto Wales and Cornwaile to sing the Lay . . . which was the worst Lay that ever Hurper sung with Harpe, or with any other instru- ment. And [at a] great feast that King Marke made for joy of [a] victorie which hee had, . . . came Eliot the Harper ; . . . and because he was a curious Harper, men heard him sing the same Lay that Sir Dinadau had made, the which spake the most vilanie by King Marke of his treason, that ever man heard. When the Harper had sung his song to the cud, King Marke was wonderous wroth with him and said, Thou Harper, how durst thou be so bold to sing this song before me ? Sir, said Eliot, wit you well I am a Minstrell, and I must doe as I am commanded of these Lords that / beat the armes of. And, Sir King, wit you well that Sir Dinadan a knight of the Round Table made this song, and he made me to sing it before you. Thou saiest well, said King Marke, I charge thee that .'.hou hie thee fast out of my sight. So the Harper departed," &c. [Part ii. c. 113, ed. 16(4. Sec also part iii. c. 5.] (E E 2) This Act seems to hnve put an end to the profession, l song, or ballad.'] The English word ballad is evidently from the French bal *de, as the latter is from the Italian halfata ; which the Crusca Dictionary defines, canzone, che si canta ballando, " A song which is sung during a dance." So Dr. Burney [ii. 342], who refers to a collection of Ballette published by Gastaldi, and printed at Antwerp in 1596 [iii. 226 j. But the word appears to have had an earlier origin, for in the decline of the Roman empire these trivial songs were called l*.illiite*i and saltati- niiculce. Hallisteum, Salmasius says, is properly balii*tium. Gr. BaAAi .... BaAAio-na Saltotio . . . Ballistium igiturest quod vulgo vocamus ballet ; nam mde deducta vox nostra." Salmas. Not. in Kist. Ang. Soriptores, vi. p. 349. Of the twenty-fonr songs in what is now called Kofrin Hood't Garland, many are so modern as not to be found in PepysV Collection, complet d only in 1 70". In the folio M.S. (described in p. vii) are ancient tracments of the following, viz. Robin Hood and the Keggar. Kobin Hood and the Butcher. Robin Ho-*! and ITV-.T Tncke. Kohin Hood and the Pind.ir. Robin Hood and yueen Catharine in two parts. Little John and tlie four Beggars and ' Robin Hoode his Death. ' Tliis la^t, which is very curious has no resemblance to any that navp been published; and the others are e.\tremrl\ iiffereut from the printed copies; but tney unfortunately are in the btgir niug ol ih US., where hall of every leaf hath been torn uwav. NOTES OM THE In the Life of the Emperor Aurehau by Fl. Vopiscus may be seen two 01 these ballistet, as sung by the boys skipping and dancing, on account of a great slaughter made by the emperor with his own hand in the Sarmatic war. The first is, "Mille, mille, mille deo'llivimus, Unus homo mille dt-collavimus, Mille vivat, qui mille 'cidit. Tantum vini hubet nemo Quantum fudit sanguinis." The other was, " Mille SarmntaK. millp Francos Semel et semel occidimus. Mille Persas quasrimus." Salmasins (in loc.) shows that the trivial poets cf that time were wont to form their metre of Trochaic Tetrnmetre Catalectics, divided into distichs. [Ibid p. 350.] This becoming the metre of the hymns in the church service, to which the monks at length superadded rhyming terminations, was the origin of the common trochaic metre in the modern languages. This observation I owe to the learned author of Irish Anti- quities, 4to. (F F 2) Little Miscellanies named Garlands, &c.~] In the Pepysian and other libraries are preserved a great number of these in black-letter. 12mo, under the following quaint and aftected titles, viz., 1. A Crowne Garland of Goulden Roses gathered out of England's Royal Garden, &c., by Richard Johnson, 1612. [In the Bodleian Library.] 2. The Golden Garland of Princely Delight. 3. The Garland of Good-will, by T. D. 1631. 4. The Royal Garland of Love and Delight, by T. D. 5. The Garland of Delight, &c., by Tho. Delone. 6. The Garland of Love and Mirth, by Thomas Lanfier. 7. Cupid's Garland set round with Guilded Roses. 8. The Garland of Withered Roses, by Martin Parker, 1656 9. The Shepherd's Garland of Love, Loyalty, &c. 10. The Country Gar- land. - 11. The Golden Garland of Mirth and Merriment. 12. The Lover's Garland. 13. Neptune's fair Garland. 14 England's fair Garland. 15. Robin Hood's Garland. 16. The Maiden's Garland. 17. A Loyal Garland of Mirth and Pastime. 18. A Royal Garland of New Songs. 19. The Jovial Garland, 8th edit. 1691. &c., &c., &c. This sort of petty publications had anciently the name of Penny- Merriments : as little religious tracts of the same size were called Penny-Godlinesses. In the Pepysian Library are multitudes of both kinds. (G o) The term Minstrel was not conjuiect to a mere musici.m in this ciuntry an<> more than on the Continent.'] The discussion of the question whether the term Minstrel was applied in England to singers and com- posers of songi, &c., or confined to the performers on musical instruments, was properly reserved for this place, because much light hath aiready been thrown upon the subject in the preceding notes, to which it will be sufficient to refer the reader. That on the Continent the M.nstrel was understood not to be a n.litM to tli- iii all. See p. liii. * See p. Ixvi ' Sec p. xxxi, note. 1XXI NOTES ON TIIK had musical instruments, the singing must have been by the Minstrels, of by both conjointly. For that Minstrels sang we have undeniable proof in the following entry in the Accompt roll of the Priory of Bicester, in Oxfordshire (under the year 1432). " Dat. Sex Ministrallis de Bokyngham cantanti'ms in ret'ec- torio Martyrium Septem Dormientium in Festo Epiphanie, iv. s." (Vol. ii. p. 175.) In like manner our old English writers abound with passages wherein the Minstrel is represented as singing. To mention only a few: In the old romance of Emare (vol. ii. no. 15, p. 31), which, from the obsoleteness of the style, the nakedness of the story, the barrenness of incidents, and some other particulars, I should judge to be next in point of time to fforn-C.iild, we have " I have herd Menstrelles syng yn sawe/" Stanza 27. In a poem of Adam Davie (who flourished about 1312), we have this iistich, " Merry it Is in halle to here the harpe, The Minstrelles synge. the Jogelours carpe." T. Warton, i. p. 225. So William of Nassyngton (circ. 1480) as quoted by Mr. Tyrwhitt Chaucer, iv. 319), "I will make no vain carpinge Of dedes of arrays ne of amours As dus Mynstrelles and Jestonrs [GestoursJ. Tbat raakys carpinge in many a place Of Octaviane and Isembrase, And of ma:iy other JcstPS [re then sung to the hurp: even Troilut an-l Cretsride. though almost as long ia the .Kiieid, was to be " rwtlc or elie songe." 1. ult. (Warton, i. 388.) FOREGOINO K88AY. Ixxii Domposers, otherwise they could not have been at liberty to choose thir ubjects (st. 2). " Menstrelleg that walken fer and -vj-de Her and ther In every a syde In mony a dyverse londe Sholde ut her bygynnyng Speke of th.it riglitwes kyng That made both see and londe," &c. And in the old song or geste of Guy and Colbronde (vol. ii. no. 4-, p. 9t>), the Minstrel thus speaks of himself in the first person : " When meate and drinke is great pleutye Then lords and ladyes still wil be And sitt and solace lythe Thou itt is time for MEK to speakc Of keeiie knights and kempes great Such carping for to kythe." We have seen already that the Welsh Sard-; who were undoubtedly composers of the songs they chanted to the harp, could not be distinguished by our legislators from our own Rimers, Atint-trels. Vide (B B 3), and p. xxxvi. And that the Provencal Troubadour of our King Richard, who is called by M. Fa vine Jongleur, and by M. Fauchet Menestrel, is by the old English translator termed a Rhymer or Minstrel when he is mentioning the fact ?f his composing some verses (p. xxxi). And lastly, that Holingshed, translating the prohibition of King Henry V., forbidding any songs to be composed on his victory, or to be sung by harpers or others, roundly gives it, he would not permit " any ditties to be made and sung by Minstrels on his glorious victory," &c. Vide p. xxxrh, and note (B B 4). Now that this order of men, at first called Gleemen, then Jugglers, and afterwards more generally Minstrels, existed here from the Conquest, who entertained their hearers with chanting, to the harp or other instruments, songs and tales of chivalry, or, as they were called, gests, 9 and romances in verse in the English language, is proved by the existence of the very compositions they so chanted, which are still preserved in great abundance ; and exhibit a regular sei*i<>s from the time our language was almost Saxon, till after its improvemmds in the age of Chaucer, who enumerates many of them. And as the Norman- French was in the time of this bard still the courtly language, it shows that the English was not thereby excluded from affording entertainment to our nobility, who are so often addressed therein by the title of hrdings : and sometime? more positively, " lord< and ladies " (p. Ixxxi). And though many of these were translated from the French, others are evidently of English origin, 1 which appear in their turns to have atforded GESTS at length came to signify adventures or incidents in general. So In a narrative of the Journey into Scotland of Queen Margaret and her attendants, on her marriage with K. James IV. in 1503 [in Appendix to belaud Collect, iv. p. 266], we are promised an account " of their Gesty> and manners during the said Voyage.'' 1 The Romance of Richard Cceur de Lion (no. 26) I should judge to be of English arigin.from the names Wardrewe and Eldrrde, kc., vol. ii. p 101. Aa Is alao Eyer and i.rime (no. 12), vol. ii. p. 99, wherein a knight is named Sir Gray Steel and lady VOL. L NOTES ON THE versions into that language; a sufficient proof of that intercommunity between the French and English Minstrels which hath been mentioned in a preceding page. Even the abundance of such translations into English, being all adapted for popular recitation, sufficiently establishes the fact, that the English Minstrels had a great demand for such compositions, which they were glad to supply, whether from their own native stores or from other languages. We have seen above, that the Jocultttor, Mimits, ffistrio, whether these characters were the same, or had any real difference, were all called Minstrels ; as was also the Harper, 2 when the term implied a singer, if not a composer, of songs, &c. By degrees the name of Minstrel was ex- tended to vocal and instrumental musicians of every kind : and as in the establishment of royal and noble houses the latter would necessarily b< most numerous, so we are not to wonder that the band of music (entered under the general name of Minstrels) should consist of instrumental per- formers chiefly, if not altogether : for, as the composer or singer of heroic tales to the harp would necessarily be a solitary performer, we must not expect to find him in the band along with the trumpeters, riuters. &c. However, as we sometimes find mention of "Minstrels of music:'' 5 so at other times we hear of " expert Minstrels and Musicians of tongue and cunning " (B B 3), p. Ixxiv, 4 meaning doubtless by the former Singers, and probably by the latter phrase Composers of songs. Even " Minstrels music " seems to be applied to the species of verse used by Minstrels in the passage quoted below. 1 But although, from the predominancy of instrumental music, Minstrelsy was at length chiefly to be understood in this sense, yet it was still applied to the poetry of Minstrels so late as the time of Queen Elizabeth, aa appears in the following extract from Puttenham's Arte of English Poesie y p. 9. Who, speaking of the first composers of Latin verses in rhyme, says, * ho excels in surgery is called Lootpaine, or Lote-pain : these surely are not derived from France. 2 See the Romance of Sir Itenbrat (vol. ii. no. 14, p 99), sign. a. " Harpers loved him in Hall With other Minstrels all." 3 T. Warton, ii. 258, note (a), from Leland's Collect. (voL iv. Append, edit. 1774. p. 267.) * The curious author of the Tour in Walet, 1773, 4to. p. 435, 1 find to have read these words " in toune and contrey ;" which I can scarce imagine to have been applicable to Wales at that time. Nor can 1 agree with him in the representation be has given (p. 367) concerning the Cymmortk or meeting, wherein the Bards exerted their powers to excite their countrymen to war; as if it were by a deduction of the particulars he enumerates, and as it should seem in the way of harangue, &c. After which, ' the tvm.1 f minstrels struck up; the harp, the cni-th, and the pipe filled the measures of enthusiasm, which the others had begun to inspire." Whereas it is well known, that the Bard chanted his enthusiastic effusions to the harp ; and as for the tern JUnt'rd, it was not, I conceive, at all USK! by the Welsh ; and in English it comprehended both the bard and the musician. s " Your ordinarie rimers use very much their measures in the odde, as nine and sutyuct. FOREGOING ESSAY. " All that they wrote to the favor or prayse of princes, they did it in such manner of Minstralsie ; and thought themselves no small 1'ooles, when they could make their verses go all in ryme." I shall conclude this subject with the following description of Minstrelsy given by John Lidgate at the beginning of the 15th century, as it shows what a variety of entertainments were then comprehended under this ttrm, together with every kind of instrumental music then iu use : " Al manor MYNSTRAICYE, That any man kan specifye. Kfor there were Rotys of Almayne, And eke of Arragon, and Spayne : SONOES, Statnpes, and eke Daunces ; Divers plente of plesaunces : And many unkouth NOTTS NEW OF SWICHE FOLKE AS LOVID TREDK. And instnimentys (bat did excelle. Many moo than I kan telle. Harpys, Fythales, and eke Rotys Well according to her [t. e. their] notys, Lutys, Ribibles, and Geternes, More for estatys, than tavernes : Orgay[n]8, Cytolis, Monacordys. There were Trumpes, and Trumpettes, Lowde Shall[m]ys, and Doucettes." T. Warton, ii. 225, note (*> By this phrase I understand, new Tales or narrative Rhyme* composed by the .Minstrels on the subject of true and faithful Lovers, &c. END OF THE ESSAY. tJ3JT The foregoing Essay on the Ancient Minstrels has been very muck enlarged and improved since the first edition, with respect to the Angl>-SaxCflttiSf) l&tnjj, 6 with one or two anachronisms, forbids us to assign it an earlier late. King James I., who was prisoner in this kingdom at the death of his father, 7 did not wear the crown of Scotland till the second year of our Henry VI., 8 but before the end of that long reign, a third James had mounted the throne. 8 A succession of two or three Jameses, and the long detention of one of th> m in England, would render the name familiar to the English, and dispose a poet iu those rude times to give it to any Scottish king he happened to mention. So much for the date of this old ballad : with regard to its subject, although it hus no countenance from history, there is room to think it had originally some foundation in fact. It was one of the laws of the Marches, frequently renewed between the two nations, that neither party should hunt in the other's borders, without leave from the pro- prietors or their deputies. ' There had long been a rivaUhip between the two martial families of Percy and Douglas, which, heightened by the national quarrel, must have produced frequent challenges and struggles for superiority, petty invasions of their respective domains, and sharp contests for the point of honour, which would not always be recorded in history. Something of this kind we may suppose gave rise to the ancient ballad of the HUNTING A' THE CHEVIAT.* Percy, Earl of Northumberland, had vowed to hunt for three dayrf in the Scottish border without condescending to ask leave from Earl Douglas, The title-page was wanting in the copy here quoted ; but it is supposed to have been printed in 1540. See Ames. 4 See Pt. 2. v. 25. 5 See Pt. 1. v. 104-. 8 Pt. 2, v. 36, 140. 7 Who died Aug. 5, 1406, in the seventh year of our Hen. IV. 8 James I. was crowned May 22, 1424; murdered, Feb. 21, 14367. 9 In 1460. Hen. VI. was deposed 1461 ; restored and slain, 1471. 1 Item. . . , Concordatum est, quod,. . . NULLUS unius partis vel alterius .ngrediatur terras, boschas, forrestas, warrenas, loca, dominia quaecun.jue ilicujus partis alterius subditi, causa venandi, piscan f li, aucupandi, dis- portum aut solatium in eisdem, aliave quacunque de causa, ABSQUE MOKNTIA ejus ... ad quem . . . loca . . . pertinent, aut de deputatis suis prius capt. et obtent. Vide Bp. Nicholson's Leges Marchiarum, 1705, 8vo, p).. 27, 51. 2 This was the original title. See the ballad, Pt. 1. v. 101 Pt 2 r. 165. OF CHEVY-CHASE. d who was either lord of the soil, or lord-warden of the Marches. Douglas would not fail to resent the insult, and endeavour to repil the intruders by force: tins would naturally produce a sharp conflict between the two parties; something of which, it is probable, did really happen, though not attended with the tragical circumstances recorded in the ballad; for these are evidently borrowed from the BATTLE OF OTTEKBOCRN, 3 a very different event, but which after-times would easily confound with it. That battle might be owing to some such prevu.Ub aftnmt as this of CHEVY-CHASE, though it has escaped tlie notice of historians. Our poet has evidently jumbled the two events together ; if, indeed, the lines 4 in which this mistake is made are not rather spurious, and the after-insertion of some person, who did not dis- tinguish between the two stories. H&irne has printed this ballad without any division of stanzas, in long lines, as he found it in the old written copy; but it is usual to find the distinction of stanzas neglected in ancient MSS., where, to save room, two or three verses are frequently given in one line un- divided. See flngrant instances in the Harleian Catalogue, No. 2253. &. 20, 34, 61, 70, et passim. THE FIRST FIT.* THE Perse owt off Northombarlande, Aud a vowe to God mayd he, That he wold hunte in the mountayns Off Chyviat within dayes thre, In the mauger of dough te Dogles, 5 And all that ever with him be. The fattiste hartes in all Cheviat He sayd he wold kill, and cary them away : " Be my feth," sayd the dougheti Doglas agayn, " I wyll let that hontyng yf that I may." 10 Then the Perse owt off Banborowe cam, With him a myghtye meany ; With fifteen hondrith archares bold ; The wear chosen owt of shyars thre. c Ver. 5, magger in Hearne's P.C. [Printed Copy.] V. 11, The the Perse. P.O. V. 13, archardes bolde off blood and bone. P.C. See the next ballad. Vide Pt. 2, v. 167. * Fit, see v. 100. 6 By these " shyars thre " is probably meant three districts in North- nmberland, which still go by the name of shires, and are all in the neighbourhood of Cheviot. These are Island-shire, being the district so named from Holy-Island ; Norehamshire, so called from the town ant 1 cnstle of Noreham (or Norham); and Eamborouyhshire, the ward 01 belonging to Bam borough castle and town. B 2 THE ANCIENT BALLAD This begane on a Monday at morn 15 In Clieviat the hillys so he ; The chyld may rue that ys un-born, It was the mor pitte. The dryvars thorowe the woodes went, For to reas the dear ; 20 Bomen bickarte uppone the bent With ther browd aras cleare. Then the wyld thorowe the woodes went, On every syde shear; Grea-hondes thorowe the greves glent, 25 For to kyll thear dear. The begane in Chyviat the hyls above, Yerly on a Monnyn day ; Be that it drewe to the oware off none A hondrith fat hartes ded ther lay. 30 The blewe a mort uppone the bent, The semblyd on sydis shear ; To the qnyrry then the Perse went, To se the bryttlynge off the deare. He sayd, " It was the Duglas promys 35 This day to met me hear ; But I wyste he wold faylle, verament : " A gret oth the Perse swear. At the laste a squyar off Northombelonde Lokyde at his hand full ny ; 40 He was war aih the doughetie Doglas comynge, With him a myghte meany ; Both with spear, ' byll,' and brande ; Yt was a myghti sight to se ; Hardyar men, both off hart nar hande, 45 Wear not in Christiante. V. 19. throrowe. P.O. V. 31, blwe a mot. p.c. V. 41, ath the ; a' the. V. 42, myghtte. P.c. pa.-,sim. V. 43, brylly. p.c. OF CHKVY-CHA8E. O The wear twenty hondrith spear-men good, Withouten any fayle ; The wear borne a-long be the watter a Twyde, Yth, bowndes of Tividale. 5C " Leave off the brytlyng of the dear," he sayde, " And to your bowys tayk good heed ; For never sithe ye wear on your mothars borne Had ye never so mickle need." The dougheti Dogglas on a stede 55 He rode att his men beforne ; His armor glytteryde as dyd a glede ; A bolder barne was never born. " Tell me ' what ' men ye ar," he says, " Or whos men that ye be : 60 Who gave youe leave to hunte in this Chyviat chays in the spyt of me?" The first mane that ever him an answear mayd, Yt was the good Lord Perse : " We wyll not tell the ' what ' men we ar," he says, 65 " Nor whos men that we be ; But we wyll hount hear in this chays, In the spyte of thyne and of the. " The fattiste hartes in all Chyviat We have kyld, and cast to carry them a-way." 70 " Be my troth," sayd the doughte Dogglas agayn, " Ther-for the ton of us shall de this day." Then sayd the doughte Doglas Unto the Lord Perse : " To kyll all thes giltles men, 75 A-las ! it wear great pitte. " But, Perse, thowe art a lord of lande, I am a yerle callyd within my centre ; Let all our men uppoue a parti stande, And do the battell off the and of me." 80 V. 48, withowte . . . feale. P.C. V. 52, boys look ya tayk. P.C. V. 54, ne.C. V. 80, Say. i.e. sawe. V. 84, haylde. P.O. V. 87, sar. P.O. V. 102, abou. P.O. * This incident is taken from the battle of Otterbourn ; in which Sir Hush Montgomery, Knt. (son of John Lord Montgomery), was slain with aa arrow. Vide Crawturd's Peerage. 10 THE ANCIENT BALLAD Of fifteen hondrith archers of Ynglonde Went away but fifti and thre ; Of twenty hondrith spear-men of Skotlonde, 105 But even five and fifti : But all wear slayne Cheviat within ; The hade no strengthe to stand on he : The chylde may rue that is un-borne, It was the mor pitte. 110 Thear was slayne with the Lord Perse, Sir John of Agerstone, Sir Roger, the hinde Hartly, Sir Wyllyam, the bold Hearone. Sir Jorg, the worthe Lovele, 115 A knyght of great renowen, . Sir Raff, the ryche Rugbe, With dyntes wear beaten dowene. For Wetharryngton my harte was wo, That ever he slayne shulde be ; 120 For when both his leggis wear hewyne in to, He knyled and fought on hys kne. Ther was slayne with the dougheti Douglas, Sir Hewe the Mongon-byrry, Sir Davye Lwdale, that worthe was, 125 His sistars son was he : Sir Charles a Murre in that place, That never a foot wolde fle ; Sir Hewe Maxwell, a lorde he was, With the Duglas dyd he dey. 130 So on the morrowe the mayde them byears Off byrch and hasell so ' gray ' ; Many wedous with wepyng tears 3 Cam to fach ther makys a-way. V. 108, strenge . . . hy. P.O. V. 115, l<5ule. P.O. V. 121, in to, i.e. jn two. V. 122, Yet he ... knv. P.O. V. 132, gay. P.C. Per the names in this and the foregoing page, see the remarks at the end of the next ballad. 1 A common pleonasm. See the next poem, Fit 2nd, v. 155. So Harding OF CHEVY CHASE. 11 Tivydale may carpe off care, Ic5 Northombarlond may mayk grat mone, For towe such captayns as slayne wear thear, On the March-perti shall never be none. Word ys commen to Edden-burrowe, To Jamy the Skottishe kyng, 140 That dougheti Duglas, Lyff-tenant of the Merches, He lay slean Chyviot with-in. His handdes dyd he weal and wryng, He sayd, " Alas, and woe ys me ! " Such another captayn Skotland within, 145 He sayd, y-feth shuld never be. Worde ys commyn to lovly Londone, Till the fourth Harry our kyng, That Lord Perse Leyff-tennante of the Merchis, He lay slayne Chyviat within. 150 " God have merci on his soil," sayd Kyng Harry, " Good Lord, yf thy will it be! I have a hondrith captayns in Yynglonde," he sayd, " As good as ever was hee : But Perse, and I brook my lyffe, 155 Thy deth well quyte shall be." As our noble kyng made his a-vowe, Lyke a noble prince of renowen, For the deth of the Lord Perse He dyd the battel of Hombyll-down : 160 Wher syx and thritte Skottish knyghtes On a day wear beaten down : Glendale glytteryde on ther armor bryght, Over castill, towar, and town. V. 136, mon. P.C. V. 138, non. P.C. V. 146, ye seth. P.O. V. 149, cheyff tennante. P.C. in his Chronicle, chap. 140, fol. 148, describing the death of Richard 1., says, He shrove him then unto Abbots thre With great sobbyng . . . and wepyng teares. So likewise Cavendish, in his Life of Cardinal Wolsey, chap. 12, p. 31, 4to "When the Duke heaid this, he replied with weeping teares," &c. 12 THE BATTLE OF OTTEUBOURNK. This was the hontynge off the Cheviat ; 165 That tear begane this spurn : Old men that knowen the grownde well yenoughe, Call it the Battell of Otterburn. At Otterburn began this spurne Uppon a Monnyn day : 170 Ther was the dougghte Doglas slean, The Perse never went away. Ther was never a tym on the March-partes Sen the Doglas and the Perse met, But yt was marvele, and the rede blude ronne not, 175 As the reane doys in the stret. Jhesue Crist our balys bete, And to the blys us brynge ! Thus was the hountynge of the Chevyat : God send us all good ending ! 180 %* The style of this and the following ballad is uncommonly ruggt d and uncoutu, owing to their being writ in the very coarsest and broadest northern dialect. The battle of Hoinbyll-down, or Humblerlon, was fought Sept. 14, 1402 (anno 3 Hen. IV.), wherein the English, under the command of the E. of Northumberland and his son Hotspur, gained a complete victory over the Scots. The village of Humbledon is one mile north- west from Wooller in Northumberland. The battle was fought in the field below the village, near the present turnpike-road, in a spot called ever since Bed-Riggs. Humbledon is in Glendale Ward, a district so named in this county, and mentioned above in ver. 163. II. Cfjc battle of ttertourne. The only battle, wherein an Earl of Douglas was slain fighting with a Percy, was that of Otterbourn, which is tlie subject of this ballad. It is here related with the allowable partiality of an English poet, and much in tlie same manner as it is recorded in the English Chronicles. The Scottish writers have, with a partiality at least as excusable, related it no less in their own favour. Luckily we have a very cir- cumstantial narrative of the whole affair from Froissart, a French historian, who appears to be unbissed. Froissart's re lation is prolix ; THK BATTLE OF OTTEKBOTJRNE, 18 1 tliall therefore give it as ab.Uged by Carte, who his however bid recourse to other authorities, and differs from Froissart in some things ; which I shall note in the margin. In the twelfth year of Richard II., 1388, "The Scots taking advan- tage of the confusions of this nation, and falling with a party into the west Marches, ravttged the country about Carli&le, r.n re probably pre.-erved in the memory of old people. It will be observed, that the authors of these two poems have some lims in common ; but whicli of them was the original proprietor must depend upon the.r priority ; and this the sagacity of the reader must determine. YT felle abowght the Lamasse tyde, Whan husbonds wynn ther haye, The dowghtye Dowglasse bowynd hym to ryde, In Ynglond to take a praye : The Yerlle of Fyffe, 2 withowghtcn stryffe, 5 He bowynd hyni over Sulway : 3 The grete wolde ever together ryde ; That race they may rue for aye. Over ' Ottercap ' hyll they 4 came in, And so dowyn by Rodelyffe cragge, 10 Upon Grene ' Leyton ' they lyghted dowyn, Styrande many a stagge : 6 And boldely brente Northomberlonde, And haryed many a towyn ; They dyd owr Ynglyssh men grete wrange, 15 To battell that were not bowyn. Ver. 2. wynn their heaye. Harl. MS. This is the Northumberland phrase to this day : by which they always express " getting in their hay." The orig. MS. reads here winn their waye. 2 Robert Stuart, second son of K. Robert II. * i. e. "Over Solway frith." This evidently refers to the other division of the Scottish army, which came in by way of Carlisle. Bowynd, or bounde him ; '. e. hied him. Vide Gloss. 4 They : sc. the Earl of Douglas and his party. The several stations here mentioned, are well-known places in Northumberland. Ottercap hill is in the Parish of Kirk-Whelpington, in Tynedaleward. Rodelitt- (or as it is more usually pronounced Rodeley-} Cragge is a noted cliff near Rodeley, a small village in the parish of Hartburn, in Morpethward : it lies south-east of Ottercap. Green Leyton is another small village in the same parish of Hartburn, and is south-east of Rodeley. Both the orig. MSS. read here corruptly, Hoppertop and Lynton. 5 This liue is corrupt in both the MSS. viz. ' Many a styrande stago.' Stags have been killed within the present century on some resse' Tale in Chaucer : the poel seems also to have had an eye to tho known story of Hugh of Lintoln. THE JEW'S DAUGHTER. 27 a child said to have been there murthered by the Jews in tlie reign of Henry III. The conclusion of this ballad appears to be wanting : what it probably contained may be seen in Chaucer. As for Mirryland Toun, it is probably a corruption of Milan ^called by the Dutch Meylandt) Town : the Pa is evidently the river Po ; although the Adige, not the Po, runs through Milan. Printed from a MS. copy Bunt from Scotland. THE rain rins doun through Mirry-land tonne, Sae dois it doune the Pa : Sae dois the lads of Mirry-land toune, Quhan they play at the ba'. Than out and cam the Jewis docht&r, 5 Said, " Will ye cum in and dine ? " " I winnae cum in, I cannae cum in, Without iny play-feres nine." Scho powd an apple reid and white, To intice the zong thing in : 10 Scho powd an apple white and reid, And that the sweit bairne did win. And echo has taine out a little pen-knife, And low down by her gair ; Scho has twin'd the zong thing and his life ; 15 A word he nevir spak mair. And out and cam the thick, thick bluid, And out and cam the thin ; And out and cam the bonny herts bluid : Thair was nae life left in. 20 Scho laid him on a dressing borde, And drest him like a swine, And laughing said, " Gae nou and pley With zour sweit play-feres nine." Scho rowd him in a cake of lead, 25 Bade him lie stil and sleip ; Scho cast him in a deip draw-well, Was fifty fadom deip. V. 1. It is important to note that Mirry-land toune is a corruption of Merry Lincoln, and not, as Percy conjectured, of Mailand (Milan) town. Editor. 28 SIR OATTTJKE. Quhan bells wer rung, and mass was flung. And every lady went haruu : 3C Than ilka lady had her zong sonne, Bot Lady Helen had none. Scho rowd hir mantil hir about, And sair, sair gan she weip, And she ran into the Jewis castel, 35 Quhan they were all asleip. " My bonny Sir Hew, my pretty Sir Hew I pray thee to me speik : " " lady, rinn to the deip draw-well, Gin ze zour zonne wad seik." 40 Lady Helen ran to the deip draw-well, And knelt upon her kne : " My bonny Sir Hew, an ze be here, I pray thee speik to me." " The lead is wondrous heavy, mither, 45 The well is wondrous deip ; A keen pen-knife sticks in my hert, A word I dounae speik. " Gae hame, gae hame, my mither deir, Fetch me my windling sheet, 50 And at the back o' Mirry-land toun Its thair we twa sail meet.' IV. ^tr Caulme. This old romantic tale was preserved in the Editor's folio MS., but in so very defective and mutilated a condition (not from any chasm in the MS,, but from great omission in the transcript, probably copied from the faulty recitation of some illiterate minstrel), that it was necessary to supply several stanzas in the first part, and still more in the second, to connect and complete the story in the manner which appeared to him most interesting and affecting. There is something peculiar in the metre of this old ballad : it is not unusual to meet witli redundant stanzas of six lines; but the SIR CAULINE. 23 occasional insertion of a double third or fourth line, as ver. 31, 44, &C., is an irregularity I do not remember tr. have seen elsewhere. It may be proper to inform the reader before he comes to Pt. 2, v. 110, 111, that tlie ROVND TABLE was not peculiar to the reign of K. Arthur, but was common in all the ages of chivalry. The proclaiming a great tournament (probably with some peculiar solemnities) was called " holding a Eound Table." Dugdale tells us, that the great baron Roger de Mortimer " having procuied the honour of knighthood to be conferred ' on his three sons' by K. Edw. I., he, at his own costs, caused a toumeament to be held at Kenilworth ; where he sumptuously entertained an hundred knights, and as many ladies, for three days ; the like whereof was never before in England ; and there began the BOUND TABLE (so called by reason that the place wherein they prac- tised those feats was environed with a strong wall made in a round form). And upon the fourth day, the golden lion, in sign of triumph, being yielded to him, he carried it (with all the company) to Warwick." It may further be added, that Matthew Paris frequently calls jousts and tournaments Hastiludia Meiisx Eotundx. As to what will be observed in this ballad of the art of healing being practised by a young princess, it is no more than what is usual in all the old romances, and was conformable to real manners : it being a practice derived from the earliest times among all the Gothic and Celtic nations, for women, even of the highest rank, to exercise the art of surgery. lu the Northern Chronicles we always find the young damsels stanching the wounds of their lovers, and the wives those of their husbands. 1 And even so late as the time of Q. Elizabeth, it is mentioned among the accomplishments of the ladies of her court, that the " eldest of them are skilful in surgery." See Harrison's Description of England, prefixed to Holingshed's Chronicle, &c. THE FIRST PART. IN Ireland, ferr over the sea, There dwelleth a bonnye kinge ; And with him a yong and comlye knighte, Men call him Syr Cauline. The kinge had a ladye to his daughter, 5 In fashyon she hath no peere ; And princely wightes that ladye wooed To be theyr wedded feere. Syr Cauline loveth her best of all, But nothing durst he saye ; 10 Ne descreeve his counsayl to no man, But deerlye he lovde this may. 1 See Northern Antiquities, &C., vol. i. p. 318; vol. ii. p. 100; tie la Chevalerie, torn. i. p. 44. 3C SIB CATILINE Till on a daye it so beffell Great dill to him was dight ; The maydens love removde his mynd, 15 To care-bed went the knighte. One while he spred his armes him fro, One while he spred them nye : " And aye ! but I winne that ladyes love, For dole now I mun dye." 20 And whan our parish-masse was done, Our kinge was bowne to dyne : He says, " Where is Syr Cauline, That is wont to serve the wyne?" Then aunswerde him a courteous knighte, 25 And fast his handes gan wringe : " Syr Cauline is sicke, and like to dye, Without a good leechinge." " Fetche me downe my daughter deere, She is a leeche fulle fine ; 30 Goe take him doughe, and the baken bread, And serve him with the wyne soe red : Lothe I were him to tine." Fair Christabelle to his chaumber goes, Her maydens followyng nye : 35 " well," she sayth, " how doth my lord ? " "O sicke, thou fayr ladye." " Nowe ryse up wightlye, man, for shame, Never lye soe cowardice ; For it is told in my fathers halle, 40 You dye for love of mee." " Fayre ladye, it is for your love That all this dill I drye : For if you wold comfort me with a kisso, Then were I brought from bale to blisse, 45 No lenger wold I lye." " Syr Knighte, my father is a kinge, I am his onlye heire ; Alas ! and well you knowe, Syr Knighte, I never can be youre fere." 50 SIR OAULINE. 31 * ladye, thou art a kinges daughter, And I ain not thy peere ; But let me doe some deedes of arines To be your bacheleere." " Some deedes of armes if thou wilt doe, 55 My bacheleere to bee, (But ever and aye my heart wold rue, Giff harm shold happe to thee,) " Upon Eldridge hill there groweth a thorne, Upon the mores brodinge ; 60 And dare ye, Syr Knighte, wake there all nighte, Untill the fayre morninge ? " For the Eldridge knighte, so mickle of mighte, Will examine you beforne ; And never man bare life awaye, 65 But he did him scath and scorne. " That knighte he is a foul paynim, And large of limb and bone ; And but if heaven may be thy speede, Thy life it is but gone." 70 " Nowe on the Eldridge hilles He walke, 2 For thy sake, fair ladie ; And lie either bring you a ready token, Or He never more you see." The lady is gone to her own chaumbere, 75 Her maydens following bright ; Syr Cauline lope from care-bed soone, And to the Eldridge hills is gone, For to wake there all night. Unto midnight, that the moone did rise, 80 He walked up and downe ; Then a lightsome bugle heard he bio we Over the bents soe browne : Quoth hee, " If cryance come till my heart, I am ffar from any good towne." 3 85 2 Perhaps wake, as in ver. 61. * This line is restored from the folio MS 82 sm CAULINE. And soone he spyde on the mores so A furyous wight and fell ; A ladye bright his brydle led, Clad in a fayre kyrtell : And soe fast he called on Syr Cauline, 90 " O man, I rede thee flye, For, ' but ' if cryance come till thy heart, I weene but thou mim dye." He sayth, " ' No ' cryance conies till my heart, Nor, in faith, I wyll not flee ; 95 For, cause thou minged not Christ before, The less me dreadeth thee." The Eldridge knighte, he pricked his steed ; Syr Cauline bold abode : Then either shooke his trustye speare, 100 And the timber these two children 4 bare Soe soone in sunder slode. Then tooke they out theyr two good swordes, And layden on full faste, Till helme and hawberke, mail and sheelde, 105 They all were well-nye brast. The Eldridge knight was mickle of might, And stiffe in stower did stande ; But Syr Cauline with a ' backward ' stroke, He smote off his right-hand ; 110 That soone he, with paine and lacke of bloud, Fell downe on that lay-land. Then up Syr Cauline lift his brande All over his head so hye : " And here I sweare by the holy roode, 115 Nowe, caytiffe, thou shalt dye." Then up and came that ladye brighte, Faste wringing of her hande : " For the maydens love that most you love, Withold that deadlye brande : 120 V. 109, aukeward. MS. i.e. Knights. See the preface to Child Waters, )1. *i. SIR CAULINK. 33 u For the maydens love that most you love, Now smyte no more I praye ; And aye whatever thou wilt, my lord, He shall thy hests obaye." " Now sweare to mee, thou Eldridge knighte, 125 And here on this lay-land, That thou wilt believe on Christ his laye, And therto plight thy hand : " And that thou never on Eldridge come To sporte, gamon, or playe ; 130 And that thou here give up thy armes Until thy dying daye." The Eldridge knighte gave up his armes With many a sorrowfulle sighe ; And sware to obey Syr Caulines hest, 135 Till the tyme that he shold dye. And he then up and the Eldridge knighte Sett him in his saddle anone ; And the Eldridge knighte and his ladye, To theyr castle are they gone. 140 Then he tooke up the bloudy hand, That was so large of bone, And on it he founde five ringes of gold Of knightes that had be slone. Then he tooke up the Eldridge sworde. 145 As hard as any flint : And he tooke off those ringes five, As bright as fyre and brent. Home then pricked Syr Cauline, As light as leafe on tree : 150 I-wys he neither stint ne blanne, Till he his ladye see. Then downe he knelt upon his knee, Before that lady gay : " ladye, I have bin on the Eldridge hills : 155 These tokens I bring away VOL. I. D 34 BIB CATILINE. " Now welcome, welcome, Syr Cauline, Thrice welcome unto mee, For now I perceive thou art a true knighte, Of valour bolde and free." 160 " ladye, I am thy own true knighte, Thy hests for to obaye ; And mought I hope to winne thy love ! " No more his tonge colde say. The ladye blushed scarlette redde, 1G5 And fette a gentill sighe : " Alas ! Syr Knight, how may this bee, For my degree's soe highe ? " But sith thou hast hight, thou comely youth, To be my batchilere, 170 He promise, if thee I may not wedde, I will have none other fere." Then shoe held forthe her lilly-white hand Towards that knighte so free ; He gave to it one gentill kisse, 175 His heart was brought from bale to blisse, The teares sterte from his ee. " But keep my counsayl, Syr Cauline, Ne let no man it knowe ; For, and ever my father sholde it ken, I wot he wolde us sloe." From that daye forthe, that ladye fayre Lovde Syr Cauline the ^knighte : From that daye forthe, he only joyde Whan shee was in his sight. 185 Yea, and oftentimes they mette Within a fayre arboure, Where they, in love and sweet daliaunce, Past manye a pleasaunt houre. + % In this conclusion of the First Part, and at the beginning of the Second, the reader will observe a resr-mblance to the story of Slgismunda and GuzVard, as told by Boccace and Dryden : see the tetter's description of the lovers meeting in the cave, and those SIR CAULINE. 35 beautiful lines which contain a reflection so like this of our poet, " cvorye white," &c. viz. " But as extremes are short of ill and good, And tides at highest mark regorge their flood ; So Fate, that could no more improve their joy. Took a malicious pleasure to destroy. Tancred, who fondly loved," &c. PAKT THE SECOND. EVERYE white will have its blacke, And everye sweete its sowre : This founde the Ladye Christabelle In an untimely howre. For so it befelle, as Syr Cauline 5 Was with that ladye faire, The kinge, her father, walked forthe To take the evenyng aire : And into the arboure as he went To rest his wearye feet, 10 He found his daughter and Syr Caulhie There sette in daliaunce sweet. The kinge hee sterted forthe, i-wys, And an angrye man was hee : " Nowe, traytoure, thou shalt hange or drawe, 15 And rewe shall thy ladie." Then forthe Syr Cauline he was ledde, And throwne in dungeon deepe : And the ladye into a towre so hye, There left to wayle and weepe. 20 The queene she was Syr Caulines friend, And to the kinge sayd shee : " I praye you save Syr Caulines life, And let him banisht bee." " Now, dame, that traitor shall be sent 25 Across the salt sea fome : But here I will make thee a baud, If ever he come within this land, A foule deathe is his dooiuw " D 2 86 SIR CAULINB. All woe-begone was tliat gentil knight 30 To parte from bis ladye ; And many a time he sighed sore, And cast a wistfulle eye : " Faire Christabelle, from thee to parte, Farre lever had I dye." 35 Faire Christabelle, that ladye bright, Was had forthe of the towre ; But ever shee droopeth in her minde, As, nipt by an ungentle winde, Doth some faire lillye flowre. 40 And ever shee doth lament and weepe To tint her lover soe : "Syr Cauline, thou little think'st on mee, But I will still be true." Manye a kinge, and manye a duke, 45 And lorde of high degree, Did sue to that fayre ladye of love ; But never shee wolde them nee. When manye a daye was past and gone, Ne comforte she colde finde, 50 The kynge proclaimed a tourneamenl, To cheere his daughters mind. And there came lords, and there camo knights. Fro manye a farre countrye, To break a spere for theyr ladyes love, 55 Before that faire ladye. And many a ladye there was sette, In purple and in palle ; But faire Christabelle, soe woe-begone, Was the fayrest of them all. 60 Then manye a knighte was mickle of might, Before his ladye gaye ; But a stranger wight, whom no man knewo, He wan the prize eche daye. Bia OATTLINK. 37 His acton it was all of blacke, 65 His hewberke and his sheelde ; Ne noe man wist whence he did come, Ne noe man knewe where he did gone, When they came out the feelde. And now three days were prestlye past 70 In feates of chivalrye, When lo, upon the fourth morninge, A sorrowfulle sight they see : A hugye giaunt stiffe and starke, All foule of limbe and lere, 75 v Two goggling eyen like fire farden, A mouthe from eare to eare. Before him came a dwarffe full lowe, That waited on his knee ; And at his backe five heads he bare, 80 All wan and pale of blee. " Sir," quoth the dwarffe, and louted lowe, " Behold that hend Soldain ! Behold these heads I beare with me ! They are kings which he hath slain. 85 " The Eldridge knight is his own cousine, Whom a knight of thine hath shent : And hee is come to avenge his wrong : And to thee, all thy knightes among, Defiance here hath sent. 90 ** But yette he will appease his wrath, Thy daughters love to winne ; And, but thou yeelde him that fayre mayd, Thy halls and towers must brenne. " Thy head, Syr King, must goe with mee, 95 Or else thy daughter deere ; Or else within these lists soe broad, Thou must finde him a peere." The king he turned him round abonte, And in his heart was woe. IOC 1 " Is there never a knighte of my round table This matter will undergoe ? 38 SIB CATTL1KE. " Is there never a knighte amongst yee all Will fight for my daughter and mee ? Whoever will fight yon grimme Soldan, 105 Bight fair his meede shall bee. " For hee shall have my broad lay-lands, And of my crowne be heyre ; And he shall winne faire Christabelle To be his wedded fere." 110 But every knighte of his round table Did stand both still and pale ; For, whenever they lookt on the grim Soldan, It made their hearts to quail. All woe-begone was that fayre ladye, 115 When she sawe no helpe was nye ; She cast her thought on her owne true-love, And the teares gusht from her eye. Up then sterte the stranger knighte, Sayd, " Ladye, be not affrayd ; 120 He fight for thee with this grimme Soldan, Thoughe he be unmacklye made. " And if thou wilt lend me the Eldridge sworde, That lyeth within thy bowre, I truste in Christe for to slay this fiende, 125 Thoughe he be stiff in stowre." " Goe fetch him downe the Eldridge sworde," The kinge he cryde, " with speede : Nowe heaven assist thee, courteous knighte ; My daughter is thy meede." 130 The gyaunt he stepped into the lists, And sayd, " Awaye, awaye : I sweare, as I am the hend Soldan, Thou lettest me here all daye." Then forthe the stranger knight he came. 135 In his blacke armoure dight : The ladye sighed a gentle sighe, " That this were my true knighte 1 " SIR CATILINE. 89 And nowo the gyannt and knighte be metl Within the lists soe broad ; 140 And now, with swordes soe sharpe of steele, They gan to lay on load. The Soldan strucke the knighte a stroke, That made him rede asyde : Then woe-begone was that fayre ladye, 145 And thrice she deeply sighde. The Soldan strucke a second stroke, And made the blonde to flowe : All pale and wan was that ladye fayre, And thrice she wept for woe. 150 The Soldan strucke a third fell stroke, Which brought the knighte on his knee : Sad sorrow pierced that ladyes heart, And she shriekt loud shriekings three. The knighte he leapt upon his feete, 15i> All recklesse of the pain : Quoth hee, " But heaven be now my speede, Or else I shall be slaine." He grasped his sworde with mayne and mighte, And spying a secrette part, 160 He drave it into the Soldan's syde, And pierced him to the heart. Then all the people gave a shoute, Whan they sawe the Soldan falle : The ladye wept, and thanked Christ 165 That had reskewed her from thrall. And nowe the kinge, with all his barons, Rose uppe from offe his seate, And downe he stepped into the listes That curteous knighte to greete. 170 But he, for payne and lacke of bloude, Was fallen into a swounde, And there, all walteringe in his gore, Lay lifolesse on the grounde. 40 SIB CAULINE. " Come downe, come downe, my daughter deaie, 175 Thou art a leeche of skille ; Farre lever had I lose halfe my landes, Than this good knighte sholde spille." Downe then steppeth that fayre ladye, To helpe him if she maye : 180 But when she did his beavere raise, " It is my life, my lord," she sayes, And shriekte and swound awaye. Syr Cauline juste lifte up his eyes, When he hearde his ladye crye : 185 " ladye, I am thine owne true love ; For thee I wisht to dye." Then giving her one partinge looke, He closed his eyes in death Ere Christabelle, that ladye milde, 190 Begane to drawe her breathe. But when she found her comelye knighto Indeed was dead and gone, She layde her pale, cold cheeke to his, And thus she made her moane : 195 " O staye, my deare and onlye lord, For mee, thy faithfulle feere ; 'Tis meet that I shold followe thee, Who hast bought my love so deare." Then fayntinge in a deadlye swoune, 200 And with a deep-fette sighe, That burst her gentle heart in twaynfK Faire Christabelle did dye. KPWARD, EDWABD. 41 V. A SCOTTISH BALLAD. FBOM A MS. COPT TRANSMITTED FROM SCOTLAND. " QDHT dois zour brand sae drop wi' bluid, Edward, Edward ? Quhy dois zour brand sae drop wi' bluid ? And quhy sae sad gang zee, ? " " 0, 1 hae killed my hauke sae guid, 5 Mither, mither : O, I hae killed my hauke sae guid : And I had nae mair bot hee. 0." " Zour haukis bluid was nevir sae reid, Edward, Edward : 10 Zour haukis bluid was nevir sae reid, My deir son I tell thee, 0." " O, I hae killed my reid-roan steid, Mither, mither : O, I hae killed my reid-roan steid, 15 That erst was sae fair and free, 0." " Zour steid was auld, and ze hae gat mair, Edward, Edward : Zour steid was auld, and ze hae gat mair, Sum other dule ze drie, O." 20 " O, I hae killed my fadir deir, Mither, mither : O, I hae killed my fadir deir, Alas ! and wae is mee, O ! " " And quhatten penance wul ze drie for that, 25 Edward, Edward ? And quhatten penance will ze drie for that ? My deir son, now tell me, O. " " lie eet my feit in zonder boat, Mither, mither : 30 He set my feit in zonder boat, And lie fare ovir the sea, O. n 42 KING ESTMElvE. " And quhat wul ze doe wi' zour towirs and zonr ha', Edward, Edward '? And quhat wul ze doe wi' zour towirs and zour ha', 35 That were sae fair to see, ? " " He let thame stand til they doun fa', Mither, roither : He let thame stand til they doun fa', For here nevir mair maun I bee, 0." 40 " And quhat wul ze leive to zour bairns and zour wife, Edward, Edward ? And quhat wul ze leive to zour bairns and zour wife, Quhan ze gang ovir the sea, O ? " " The warldis room, late them beg throw life, 45 Mither, mither : The warldis room, let them beg throw life, For thame nevir mair wul I see, 0." " And quhat wul ze leive to zour ain mither deir, Edward, Edward? 50 And quhat wul ze leive to zour ain mither deir ? My deir son, now tell me, O." " The curse of hell frae me sail ze beir, Mither, mither : The curse of hell frae me sail ze beir, 55 Sic counseils ze gave to me, 0." This curious song was transmitted to the Editor by Sir David Dulrymple, Bart., late Lord Hailes. VI. This old romantic Legend (which is given from two copies, one of them in the Editor's folio MS., but which contained very great varia- tions,) bears marks of great antiquity, and perhaps ought to have taken place of any in this volume. It should seem to have been written while a great part of Spain was in the hands of the Saracens or Moors, whose empire there was not fully extinguished before the year 1491. The Mahometans are spoken of in v. 49, &<., just in the same terms as in all other old romances. The author of the ancient legend of Sir KING ESTMEEE. 43 Bevis represents his hero, upon ull occasions, breathing out defiance against " Mahound and Termagaunte ; * " and so full of zeal for his religion, as to return the following polite message to a Paynim king's fair daughter, w'ho had fallen in love with him, and sent two Saracen knights to invite him to her bower : " I wyll not ones stirre off this grounde, To speake with an heathen hounde, Unchristian houndes, 1 rede you fle, Or I your harte bloud shall se." 2 Indeed, they return the compliment, by calling him elsewhere "a Christen hounde." 3 This was conformable to the real manners of the barbarous ages : perhaps the same excuse will hardly serve our bard for the situations in which he has placed some of his royal personages. That a youthful monarch should take a journey into another kingdom to visit his mistress incog, was a piece of gallantry paralleled in our ov\ a Charles I. ; but that King Adland should be found lolling or leaning 'at his gate, (v. 35,) may be thought, perchance, a little out of character. And yet the greai painter of manners, Homer, did not think it inconsistent with decorum to represent a king of the Taphians rearing himself at the gate of Ulysses to inquire for that monarch, when he touched at Ithaca, as he was taking a voyage with a ship's cargo of iron to dispose of in traffic. 4 So little ought we to judge of ancient manners by our own. Before I conclude this article, I cannot help observing that the reader will see in this ballad the character of the old minstrel (those suc- cessors of the bards) placed in a very respectable light: 5 here he will see one of them represented mounted on a fine horse, accompanied with an attendant to bear his harp after him, and to sing the poems of his composing. Here he will see him mixing in the company of kings without ceremony; no mean proof of the great antiquity of this poem. The farther we carry our inquiries back, the greater respect we find paid to the professors of poetry and music among all the Celtic and Gothic nations. Their character was deemed so sacred, that under its sanction our famous King Alfred (as we have already si-en 6 ) made no scruple to enter the Danish camp, and was at once admitted to the king's head-quarters. 7 Our poet has suggested the sume expedient to the heroes of this ballad. All the histories of the North are full of the 1 See a short Memoir at the end of this ballad. * Sign C. ij. b. Sign C. j. b. * Odyss. A. 105. * See vol. ii. note subjoined to 1st pt. of Beggar of Bednal, &c. ' See the Essay on the ancient Minstrels prefixed to this vol. 7 E^en so late as the time of Froissart, we find Minstrels and Heralds mentioned together as those who might securely go into an enemy'* countiy. Cap. cxl. 44 KING ESTMERE. great reverence paid to this order of men. Harold Harfagre, a cele- brated king of Norway, was wont to seat them at his table above all the officers of his court : and we find another Norwegian king placing five of them by his side in a day of battle, that they migat be eye- witnesses of the great exploits they were to celebrate. 8 As to Estiuere's riding into the hall while the kings were at table, this was usual in tlie ages of chivalry ; and even to this day we see a relic of this custom still kept up, in the Champion's riding into Westminster-hall during the coronation dinner. 9 HEABKEN to me, gentlemen, Come and you shall heare ; He tell you of two of the boldest brethren, That ever born y-were. The tone of them was Adler yonge, 5 The tother was Kyng Estmere ; The were as bolde men in their deedes, As any were, farr and neare. As they were drinking ale and wine Within Kyng Estmeres halle : 10 " When will ye marry a wyfe, brother, A wyfe to gladd us all ? " Then bespake him Kyng Estmere, And answered him hastilee : " I knowe not that ladye in any lande, 15 That is able 1 to marry with mee." " Kyng Adland hath a daughter, brother, Men call her bright and sheene ; If I were kyng here in your stead, That ladye shold be queene." 20 Sayes, " Reade me, reade me, deare brother, Throughout merry England, Where we might find a messenger Betweene us two to sende." V. 10, his brother's hall. fol. MS. V. 14, hartilye. fol. MS. BarthoVm. A^tiq. Dan., p. 173. Northe.n Antiquities, &c., vol. i. pp 389. &c. See also the account of Edw. II. in the Essay on the Minstrels. 1 He means fit, suitable. KING ESTMERE. 45 Sayes, " You sball rydo yourselfe, brother, 25 lie beare you companee ; Many throughe fals messengers are deceived, And I feare lest soe shold wee." Thus the renisht them to ryde Of twoe good renisht steedes, 30 And when they came to Kyng Adlands halle, Of red golde shone their weedes. And when the came to Kyng Adlands halle Before the goodlye yate, Ther they found good Kyng Adland 35 Rearing himselfe theratt. " Nowe Christ thee save, good Kyng Adlknd, Nowe Christ thee save and see." Sayd, " You be welcome, Kyng Estmere, Eight hartilye to mee." 40 " You have a daughter," sayd Adler yonge, " Men call her bright and sheene ; My brother wold marry e her to his wiffe, Of Englande to be queene." a Yesterdaye was att my dere daughter 45 Syr Bremor the Kyng of Spayne ; And then she nicked him of nayo ; I feare sheele do youe the same." " The Kyng of Spayne is a foule paynim, And 'leeveth on Mahound ; 50 And pitye it were that fayre ladye Shold marry e a heathen hound." " But grant to me," sayes Kyng Estmore, " For my love I you praye, That I may see your daughter dere 65 Before I goe hence awaye." " Althoughe itt is seven yeare and more Syth my daughter was in halle, She shall come downe once for your sake. To glad my guestes alle." 60 V. 27, many a man ... is. fol. MS. V. 46, the king his sonue of Spayn. fol. MS. 46 KING ESTMERE. Downe then came that mayden fayro, With ladyes lacede in pall, And halfe a hondred of bolde knightes. To bring her from bowre to hall, And eke as manye gentle squieres, 65 To waite upon them all. The talents of golde were on her head sette, Hunge lowe downe to her knee ; And everye rynge on her small finger Shone of the chrystall free. 70 Sayes, " Christ you save, my deare Madame ;" Sayes, " Christ you save and see ; " Sayes, " You be welcome, Kyng Estmere, Eight welcome unto mee. " And iff you love me, as you saye, 75 So well and hartilee, All that ever you are comen about Soone sped now itt may bee." Then bespake her father deare : " My daughter, I saye naye ; 80 Remember well the Kyng of Spayne, What he sayd yesterdaye. " He wold pull downe my halles and castles, And reave me of my lyfe : And ever I feare that paynim kyng, 85 Iff I reave him of his wyfe." ** Your castles and your towres, father, Are stronglye built aboute ; And therefore of that foule paynim Wee neede not stande in doubte. 90 " Plyght me your troth nowe, Kyng Estmere, By heaven and your righte hande, That you will marrye me to your wyfe, And make me queene of your land." Then Kyng Estmere he plight his troth 95 By heaven and his righte hand, That he wolde marrye her to his wyfe, And make her queene of his laud. KING ESTMERE. 47 And he tooke leave of that ladye fayre, To goe to his owne cotmtree, 100 To fetche him dukes and lordes and knightea, That marryed the might bee. They had not ridden scant a myle, A myle for the of the towne, But in did come the Kynge of Spayne, 105 With kempes many a one : But in did come the Kyng of Spayne, With manye a grimme barone, Tone day to marrye Kyng Adlands daughter, Tother daye to carry e her home. 110 Then shee sent after Kyng Estmere, In all the spede might bee, That he must either returne and fighte, Or goe home and lose his ladye. One whyle then the page he went, 115 Another whyle he ranne ; Till he had oretaken Kyng Estmere, I wis, he never blanne. " Tydinges, tydinges, Kyng Estmere ! " " What tydinges nowe, my boye ? " 120 " tydinges I can tell to you, That will you sore annoye. " You had not ridden scant a myle. A myle out of the towne, But in did come the Kyng of Spayne 125 With kempes many a one : u But in did come the Kyng of Spayne With manye a grimme barone, Tone day to marrye Kyng Adlands daughter, Tother daye to carry e her home. 130 " That ladye fayre she greetes you well, And ever-more well by mee : You must either turne againe and fighte, Or goe home and lose- your ladye." 48 KING ESTMEBE. Sayes, " Eeade me, reade me, deare brother, 135 My reade shall ryde 2 at thee, Whiche way we best may turne and fighte, To save this fayre ladye." " Now hearken to me," saves Adler yonge, " And your reade must rise 3 at me ; 14C I quicklye will devise a waye To sette thy ladye free. " My mother was a westerne woman, And learned in gramarye, 4 And when I learned at the schole, 145 Something shee taught itt me. " There groweth an hearbe within this fielde, And iff it were but knowne, His color which is whyte and redd, It will make blacke and browne : 150 " His color which is browne and blacke, Itt will make redd and whyte ; That sword is not in all Englande, Upon his coate will byte. " And you shal be a harper, brother, 155 Out of the north countree ; And He be your boye, so faine of fighte, To beare your harpe by your knee. " And you shall be the best harper, That ever tooke harpe in hand ; 160 And I will be the best singer, That ever sung in this land. " Itt shal be written in our forheads, All and in grammarye, That we to we are the boldest men 165 That are in all Christentye." * Sic MS. It shou.d probaoly oe rysc, i. e., my counsel shall arise from thee. See ver. 140. Sic. MS. 4 See note at the end of thi.s ballad. KING ESTMERE. 49 And thus they renisht them to ryde, On towe good renish steedes ; And whan the came to Kyng Adlands hall, Of redd gold shone their weedes. 170 And whan the came to Kyng Adlands hall, Untill the fayre hall yate, There they found a proud porter, Bearing himselfe theratt. Sayes, " Christ thee save, thou proud porter ; " 175 Sayes, " Christ thee save and see." " Nowe you be welcome," sayd the porter, " Of what land soever ye bee." " We been harpers," sayd Adler yonge, " Come out of the northe countree ; 180 We beene come hither untill this place, This proud weddinge for to see." Sayd, " And your color were white and redd, As it is blacke and browne, Hd saye Kyng Estmere and his brother 185 Were comen untill this towne." Then they pulled out a ryng of gold, Layd itt on the porters arme : * And ever we will thee, proud porter, Thow wilt saye us no harine." 190 Sore he looked on Kyng Estmere, And sore he handled the ryng, Then opened to them the fayre hall yates, He lett for no kind of thyng. Kyng Estmere he light off his steede, 195 Up att the fayre hall board ; The frothe that came from his brydle bitte Light on Kyng Bremors beard. Sayes, " Stable thy steede, thou proud harper, Go stable him in the stalle ; 200 V. 187, There is assurance that the ryng was not the article of personal adornment, but a coin. Vide Ring Money, Transactions of the Royal Irish Academy, vol. xvii. Editor. VOL. I. B 50 KING ESTMEBB. Itt doth not beseeme a proud harper To stable him in a kyngs halle." " My ladd he is so lither," he sayd, " He will do nought that's meete ; And aye that I cold but find the man, 205 Were able him to beate." " Thou speakst proud words," sayd the paynira kyng, " Thou harper here to mee : There is a man within this halle, That will beate thy lad and thee." 210 "0 lett that man come downe," he sayd, " A sight of him wold I see ; And whan hee hath beaten well my ladd, Then he shall beate of mee." Downe then came the kemperye man, 215 And looked him in the eare ; For all the gold, that was under heaven, He durst not neigh him neare. " And how nowe, kempe," sayd the Kyng of Spayne, " And how what aileth thee ?" 220 He sayes, " Itt is written in his forhead All and in gramarye, That for all the gold that is under heaven, I dare not neigh him nye." Kyng Estmere then pulled forth his harpe, 225 And played thereon so sweete : Upstarte the ladye from the kynge, As hee sate at the meate. " Now stay thy harpe, thou proud harper, Now stay thy harpe, I say ; 230 For an thou playest as thou beginnest, Thou'lt till 5 my bride awaye." V. 202, to stable his steede. fol. MS. 1 \.e. entice. Vide Gloss. For gramarye, see the end of this ballad. KllfO ESTMERE. 61 He strucke upon his harpe agayne, And playd both fayre and free ; The ladye was so pleasde theratt, 23 She laught loud laughters three. " Nowe sell me thy harpe," sayd the Kyng of Spayne, " Thy harpe and stryngs eche one, And as many gold nobles thou shalt have, As there be stryngs thereon." 240 " And what wold ye doe with my harpe," he sayd, "Iff I did sell it yee?" " To playe my wiffe and me a Fior, 6 When abed together we bee." " Now sell me," quoth hee, " thy bryde soe gay, 245 As shee sitts laced in pall, And as many gold nobles I will give, As there be rings in the hall." " And what wold ye doe with my bryde soe gay, Iff I did sell her yee ? 250 More seemelye it is for her fayre bodye To lye by mee than thee." Hee played agayne both loud and shrille, And Adler he did syng, " O ladye, this is thy owne true love ; i55 Noe harper, but a kyng. " ladye, this is thy owne true love, ' As playnlye thou mayest see ; And fie rid thee of that foule paynim, Who partes thy love and thee." 260 The ladye looked, the ladye blushte, And blushte and lookt agayne, While Adler he hath drawne his brande, And hath the Sowdan slayne. V. 253, Some liberties have been taken in the following stanzas ; but wherever this edition differs from the preceding, it hath ben brought nearer to the folio MS. ' i.e. a tune or strain of music. See Gloss. K 2 o2 KING ESTMERE. Up then rose the kemperye men, 265 And loud they gan to crye : " Ah ! traytors, yee have slayne our kyng, And therefore yee shall dye." Kyng Estmere threwe the harpe asyde, And swith he drew his brand ; 270 And Estinere he, and Adler yonge, Eight stiffe in stour can stand. And aye their swordes soe sore can byte, Throughe help of Gramarye, That soone they have slayne the kempery men, 275 Or forst them forth to flee. Kyng Estmere tooke that fayre ladye, And marryed her to his wiffe, And brought her home to merrye England With her to leade his life. 280 # * # The word Gramarye, which occurs several times in the fore going poem, is probably a corruption of the French word Grimoirt which signifies a conjuring-book in the old French romances, if not the art of necromancy itself. ,% Termagaunte (mentioned above in p. 43) is the name given in the old romances to the god of the Saracens : in which he is con- stantly linked with Mahound, or Mahomet. Thus, in the legend of Syr Guy the Soudan (Sultan) swears, " So hclpe me, Mahoxne of might, And Termagaunt my God so bright." Sign. p. iij. b. This word is derived by the very learned editor of Junius from the Anglo-Saxon Tyn very, and QOajan mighty. As this word has so sub- lime a derivation, and was so applicable to the true God, how shall we account for its being so degraded ? Perhaps Tyri-majan or Termagant had been a name originally given to some Saxon idol, before our ancestors were converted to Christianity, or had been the peculiar attribute of one of their false deities ; and therefore the first Christian missionaries rejected it as profane, and improper to be applied to the true God. Afterwards, when the irruptions of the Saracens into Europe, and the Crusades into the East, had brought them acquainted with a new species of unbelievers, our ignorant ancestors, who thought all that did not receive the Christian law were necessarily Pagans and Idolaters, supposed the Mahometan creed was in all respects the same with that of their Pagan forefathers, and therefore made no scruple to give the ancient name of Termagant to the petue, A SCOTTISH BALLAD, is given from two MS. copies, transmitted from Scotland. In -what age the hero of this ballad lived, or when this fatal expedition happened that proved so destructive to the Scots nobles, I have not been able to discover ; yet am of opinion that their catastrophe is not altogether without foundation in history, though it has escaped my own researches. In the infancy of navigation, such as used the northern seas were very liable to shipwreck in the wintry months : hence a law was enacted in the reign of James the Third (a law which was frequently repeated afterwards), " That there be na schip frauched out of the realm with any staple gudes, fra the feast of Simons day and Jude, unto the feast of the purification of our Lady, called Candelmess." Jam. III., Parlt. 2, ch. 15. In some modem copies, instead of Patrick Spence hath been sub- stituted the name of Sir Andrew Wood, a famous Scottish admiral, who flourished in the time of our Edward IV., but whose story hath nothing in common with this of the ballad. As Wood was the most noted warrior of Scotland, it is probable that, like the Theban Hercules, he hath engrossed the renown of other heroes. THE king sits in Dumferling toune, Drinking the blude-reid wine : " quliar will I get guid sailor, To sail this schip of mine ? " Up and spak an eldern knicht, 5 Sat at the kings richt kne : " Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailbr, That sails upon the se." The king has written a braid letter, 1 And signd it wi' his hand, 10 And sent it to Sir Patrick Spence, Was walking on the sand. The first line that Sir Patrick red, A loud lauch lauched he : The next line that Sir Patrick red, 15 The teir blinded his ee. 1 A braid letter, *'. e. open or patent ; in opposition to close rolls. BIR PATRICK 8PKNCK. 55 " quha is this has don this deid, This ill deid don to me ; To send me out this time o' the zeir, To sail upon the se V 20 " Mak haste, mak haste, my mirry men all, Our guid schip sails the morne." " O say na sae, my master deir, For I feir a deadlie storme. " Late, late yestreen I saw the new moone 25 Wi' the auld moone in hir arme ; And I feir, I feir, my deir master, That we will com to harme." our Scots nobles wer richt laith To weet their cork-heild schoone ; 30 Bot lang owre a' the play wer playd, Their hats they swam aboone. O lang, laiig may their ladies sit Wi' thair fans into their hand, Or eir they se Sir Patrick Spence 35 Cum sailing to the land. O lang, lang may the ladies stand Wi' thair gold kerns in their hair, Waiting for thair ain deir lords, For they'll se thame na mair. 40 Have owre, have owre to Aberdour, 2 It's fiftie fadom deip : And thair lies guid Sir Patrick Spence, Wi' the Scots lords at his feit. 3 1 A village lying upon the river Forth, the entrance to which is some times denominated De mortuo mart. s An ingenious friend thinks the au thor of ffardyknute has borrowed several expressions and sentiments from the foregoing and other old Scottish songs in this collection. 56 BOBIN HOOD AND VIII. anfc u of WE hare here a ballad of Kobin Hood (from the Editor's folio MS.) which was never before printed, and carries marks of much greater antiquity thau any of the common popular songs on this subject. The severity of those tyrannical forest-laws that were introduced by our Norman kings, and the great temptation of breaking them by such as lived near the royal forests, at a time when the yeomanry of this kingdom were everywhere trained up to the long-bow, and excelled all other nations in the art of shooting, mu>t constantly have occasioned a great number of outlaws, and especially of such as were the best marks- men. These naturally fled to the woods for shelter, and forming into troops, endeavoured by their numbers to protect themselves from the dreadful penalties of their delinquency. The ancient punishment for killing the king's deer, was loss of eyes and castration : a punishment far worse than death. This will easily account for the troops of banditti which formerly lurked in the royal forests, and from their superior skill in archery, and knowledge of all the recesses of those unfrequented solitudes, found it no difficult matter to resist or elude the civil power. Among all these, none was ever more famous than the hero of this ballad, whose chief residence was in Shirewood Forest, in Nottingham- shire : the heads of whose story, as collected by Stow, are briefly these. "In this time [about the year 1190, in the reign of Richard I.] were many robbers, and outlawes, among the which Robin Hood and Little John, renowned theeves, continued in woods, despoyling an<1 robbing tne goods of the rich. They killed none but such as would invade them : or by resistance for their own defence. " The saide Robert entertained an hundred tall men and good archers with such spoil es and thefts as he got, upon whom four hundred (were they ever so strong) durst not give the onset. He suffered no woman to be oppressed, violated, or otherwise molested : poore mens goods he spared, abundantlie relieving them with that which by theft he got from abbeys and the houses of rich carles : whom Maior (the historian) blameth for his rapine and theft, but of all theeves he affirmeth him to be the prince and the most gentle theefe." Annals, p. 159. The personal courage of this celebrated outlaw, his skill in archery, his humanity, and especially his levelling principle of taking from the rich and giving to the poor, have in all ages rendered himt.ie favourite of the common people : who, not content to celebrate his memory by innumerable songs and stories, have erected him into the dignity of an earl. Indeed it is not impossible but our hero, to gain the more respect from his followers, or they to derive the more credit to their profession, 1 Ritson notes that Gisborne is a market town in the West Hiding of the county of York, on the borders of Lancashi-s. Editor. GUY OF GISBOBNE. 57 maj have given rise to such a report themselves : for we find it recorded in an epitaph, which, if genuine, must have been inscribed on his tombstone near the nunnery of Kirk-lees in Yorkshire; where (as tlie story goes) he was bled to death by a treacherous nun. to whom he applied for phlebotomy : $jear tmtornratt && lat'tl s'tcan latj rnirrt rarl of Ijtmtingtun nra arrtr brr aj \)t Sue grutr an ptpl Uaulti tm lUititn *i/rutr Sick utlatoj aj Ijt an tj men btl e Ijatt a r0tu$te s'toortr." Test, of Cressid. 188. Spenser has sometimes used the same epithet : see Warton's Observ. vol. ii. p. 62. It should seem from this particularity, that our ancestors did iiot pique themselves upon keeping their weapons bright: perhaps they deemed it more honourable to carry them stained with the blood of their enemies. GUT OP GISBOBNK. 63 To sec how these yeomen together they fought Two howres of a summers day, 150 Yetfc neither Robin Hood nor Sir Guy Them fettled to flye away. Eobin was reachles on a roote, And stumbled at that tyde ; And Guy was quicke and nimble with-all, 155 And hitt him ore the left side. " Ah, deere Lady," sayd Robin Hood tho, " Thou art but mother and may' ; I think it was never mans destinye To dye before his day." 160 Robin thought on Our Ladye deere, And soone leapt up againe, And strait he came with a ' backward ' stroke, And he Sir Guy hath slayne. He took Sir Guys head by the hayre, 1 65 And stuck itt upon his bowes end : " Thou hast beene a traytor all thy liffe, Which thing must have an end." Robin pulled forth an Irish kniffe, And nicked Sir Guy in the face, 170 That he was never on woman born Cold tell whose head it was. Sayes, " Lye there, lye there now, Sir Guy, And with me be not wrothe ; Iff thou have had the worst strokes at my hand, 175 Thou shalt have the better clothe." Robin did off his gowne of greene, And on Sir Guy did throwe, And hee put on that capull hyde, That cladd him topp to toe. 18C " The bowe, the arrowes, and litle home, Now with me I will beare ; For I will away to Barnesdale, To see how my men doe fare." Ver. 163, awkwarde, MS. 64 KOBIN HOOD AND GUY OF GISBOKNE. Robin Hood sett Guys home to his mouth, 185 And a loud blast iu it did blow : That beheard the sheriffe of Nottingham, As he leaned under a lowe. " Hearken, hearken," sayd the sheriffe, " I heare no we tydings good, 19C For yonder I heave Sir Guys home bio we, And he hath slaine Robin Hoode. " Yonder I heare Sir Guys home blowe, Itt blowes soe well in tyde, And yonder comes that wightye yeoman, 195 Cladd in his capull hyde. " Come hyther, come hyther, thou good Sir Guy, Aske what thou wilt of mee." " O I will none of thy gold," sayd Eobin, " Nor I will none of thy fee. 200 " But now I have slaine the master," he sayes, " Let me goe strike the knave ; For this is all the rewarde I aske, Nor noe other will I have." " Thou art a madman," said the sheriffe, 205 " Thou sholdst have had a knightes fee ; But seeing thy asking hath beene soe bad, Well granted it shale be." When Little John heard his master speake, Well knewe he it was his steven ; 210 " Now shall I be looset," quoth Little John, " With Christ his might in heaven." Fast Robin hee hyed him to Little John, He thought to loose him belive : The sheriffe and all his companye 215 Fast after him can drive. " Stand abacke, stand abacke," sayd Robin ; " Why draw you mee so neere ? Itt was never the use in our countrye, Ones shrift another shold heere." 220 AN RLEGT 65 But Robin pulled forth an Irysh knife, And losed John hand and foote, And gave him Sir Guys bow into his hand, And bade it be his boote. Then John he took Guys bow in his hand, 225 His boltes and arrowes eche one : When the sheriffe saw Little John bend his bow, He fettled him to be gone. Towards his house in Nottingham towne He fled full fast away, 230 And soe did all the coinpanye, Not one behind wold stay. But he cold neither runne soe fast, Nor away soe fast cold ryde, But Little John with an arrowe soe broad 235 He shott him into the ' backe '-syde. %* The title of Sir was not formerly peculiar to knights, it was given to priests, and sometimes to very inferior personages. Dr. Johnson thinks this title was applied to such as had taken the degree of A.B. in the universities, who are still styled Domini, " Sirs," to distinguish them from Under-graduates, who have no prefix, and from Masters of Arts, who are styled Mugiilri, " Masters." IX. on f3enr, jFourtl) ip. iii. and iv. of the History above mentioned. " How Fame departed from Graunde Amoure and left him with Governauuce and Grace, and howe he went to the Tower of Doctrine," &c. As we are able to give no small lyrio piece of Hawes's, the reader will excuse the insertion of this extract. I LOKED about, and sawe a craggy roche Farre in the west, neare to the element ; And as I dyd then unto it approche, Upon the toppe I sawe refulgent The royall tower of MORALL DOCUMENT, 5 Made of fine copper, with turrettes fayre and hye, Which against Phebus shone so marveylously ; That for the very perfect bryghtnes, What of the tower and of the cleare sunne, I coulde nothyng beholde the goodlines 10 Of that palaice whereas Doctrine did wonne ; Tyll at the last, with mysty wyndes donne, The radiant bryghtnes of golden Phebus Auster gan cover with clowde tenebrus. Then to the tower I drewe nere and nere, 15 And often mused of the great hyghnes Of the craggy rocke, whiche quadrant did appeare ; But the fayre tower so much of ryches Was all about sexungled doubtles, Gargeyld with greyhoundes and with many lyons, 2C Made of fyne golde, with divers sundry dragons. a 1 This poem has received some few corrections by comparison with Th* Pastime of Pleasure as put forth by the Percy Society in 1845. Editor. * Greyhounds, lions, dragons, were at that time the royal supporters. 74 THE TOWEK OF DOCTRINE. The little ' turre tts ' with ymages of golde About was iet, whiche with the wynde aye moved. With propre vices that I did well beholde, About the towers in sundry wyse they hoved, 25 Wyth goodly pypes in their mouthes ituned, That with the wynde they pyped a daunce, Iclipped Amour de la hault plesaunce. The toure was great, of marvelous wydnes, To whyche there was no way to passe but one, 30 Into the toure for to have an intres ; A grece there was, ychesyled all of stone Out of the rocke, on whiche men dyd gone Up to the toure ; and in lykewise dyd I, Wyth bothe the grayhoundes in my company : 3 35 Tyll that I came to a ryall gate, Where I sawe stondynge the goodly portres, Whiche axed me from whence I came a-late ? To whome I gan in every thynge expresse All myne adventure, chaunce, and busynesse, 40 And eke my name I tolde her every dell. When she herde this, she lyked me ryght well. Her name, she sayd, was called COUNTENAUNCE : Into the ' base ' courte she dyd me then lede, Where was a fountayne depured of pleasance, 45 A noble sprynge, a ryall conduyte-hede, Made of fyne golde enameled with reed, And on the toppe foure dragons blewe, and stoute Thys dulcet water in foure partyes dyd spout. Of whyche there flowed foure ryvers ryght clere, 50 Sweter than Nylus 4 or Ganges was theyr odoure, Tygrys or Eufrates unto them no pere. I dyd than taste the aromatyke lycoure, Fragraunt of fume, swete as any floure, And in my mouthe it had a marveylous cent 55 Of divers spyces ; I knewe not what it ment. Yer. 25, towers. P.O. V. 44, besy courte. P.O. V. 49, partyes. f C. * This alludes to a former part of the poern. 4 .Nysus. p i THE CHILD OF ELT.B. 75 Aiul after tliys farther forth me brought Dame Countenaunce into a goodly hall : Of jasper stones it was wonderly wrought, The wyndowes cleare, depured all of crystall, 60 And in the roufe on hye over all Of golde was made a ryght crafty vyne ; Instede of grapes the rubies there did shyne. The flore was paved with berall clarified, \\ ith pillers made of stones precious, 66 Like a place of pleasure so gayely glorified, It might be called a palaice glorious, So muche delectable and solacious. The hall was hanged, hye and circuler, With cloth of arras in the rychest maner. 70 That treated well of a ful noble story, Of the doubty waye to the tower perillous ; 5 Howe a noble knyght should wynne the victory Of many a serpente foule and odious : XI. Clje Cftrto of e is given from a fragment in the Editor's folio MS. ; which, though extremely defective and mutilated, appeared to have so much merit; that it excited a strong desire to attempt a completion of the story. The reader will easily discover the supplemental stanzas by their inferiority, and at the same time be inclined to pardon it, when he considers how difficult it must be to imitate the affecting simplicity and artless beauties of the original. Child was a title sometimes given to a knight. See Gloss. ON yonder hill a castle standes, With walles and towres bedight, And yonder lives the Child of Elle, A younge and comely knighte. s The story of the poem. 1 The fragment in the folio MS. contains but thirty-nine verses, upon which Percy has founded two hundred ; yet the corrections are, as Sii Walter Scott says, " in the true style of Gothic embellishment." Editor. 76 THE CHILD OF ELLE. The Child of Elle to his garden wente, 5 And stood at his garden pale, Whan, lo ! he beheld faire Emmelines page Come trippinge downe the dale. The Child of Elle he hyed him thence, T-wis he stoode not stille, 10 And soone he mette faire Emmelines page Come climbing up the hille. " Nowe Christe thee save, thou little foot-page, Now Christe thee save and see ! Oh telle me how does thy Ladye gaye, 15 And what may thy tydinges bee ? " " My Lady shee is all woe-begone, And the teares they falle from her eyne ; And aye she laments the deadlye feude Betweene her house and thine. 20 " And here shee sends thee a silken scarfe, Bedewde with many a teare, And biddes thee sometimes thinke on her, Who loved thee so deare. " And here shee sends thee a ring of golde, 25 The last boone thou mayst have, And biddes thee weare it for her sake, Whan she is layde in grave. " For, ah ! her gentle heart is broke, And in grave soone must shee bee, 30 Sith her father hath chose her a new, new love, And forbidde her to think of thee. " Her father hath brought her a carlish knight, Sir John of the north countraye, And within three dayes shee must him wodde, 35 Or he vowes he will her slaye." " Nowe hye thee backe, thou little foot-page, And greet thy ladye from mee, And telle her that I, her owne true love, Will dye, or sette her free. 40 THE CHILD OF ELLE. 77 " Nowe hyo thee backe, thou little foot-page, And let thy fair ladye know, This night will I bee at her bowre-windowe, Betide me weale or woe.' 1 The boye he tripped, the boye he ranne, 45 He neither stint ne stayd, Untill he came to faire Emmelines bowre, Whan kneeling downe he sayd : " ladye, Ive been with thy own true love, And he greets thee well by mee ; 50 This night will he bee at thy bowre-windowe, And dye or sette thee free." Nowe daye was gone, and night was come, And all were fast asleepe, All save the Ladye Emmeline, 55 Who sate in her bowre to weepe : And soone shee heard her true loves voice Lowe whispering at the walle : " Awake, awake, my deare ladye, 'Tis I, thy true love, call. 60 " Awake, awake, my Ladye deare, Come, mount this faire palfraye : This ladder of ropes will lette thee downe, lie carrye thee hence awaye." " Nowe nay, nowe nay, thou gentle Knight, 65 Nowe nay, this may not bee ; For aye sould I tint my maiden fame, If alone I should wend with thee." " O Ladye, thou with a knighte so true Mayst safelye wend alone ; 70 To my ladye mother I will thee bringe, Where marriage shall make us one." " My father he is a baron bolde, Of lynage proude and hye ; And what would he saye if his daughter 76 Awaye with a knight should fly ? 7ii THE CHILD OF ELLB. " All ! well I wot, lie never would rest, Nor hismeate should doe him no goode, Till he had slayne thee, Child of Elle, And seene thy deare hearts bloode." 30 " Ladye, wert thou in thy saddle sette, And a little space him fro, I would not care for thy cruel father, Nor the worst that he could doe. " Ladye, wert thou in thy saddle sette, 85 And once without this walle, I would not care for thy cruel father, Nor the worst that might befalle." Faire Emmeline sighed, faire Emmeline wopt. And aye her heart was woe : 90 At length he seizde her lilly- white hand, And downe the ladder he drewe. And thrice he claspde her to his breste, And kist her tenderlie : The teares that fell from her fair eyes, 95 Ranne like the fountayne free. Hee mounted himselfe on his steede so talle, And her on a faire palfraye, And slung his bugle about his necke, And roundlye they rode awaye. 100 All this beheard her owne damselle, In her bed whereas shoe ley ; Quoth shee, " My Lord shall knowe of this, Soe I shall have golde and fee. Awake, awake, thou Baron bolde ! 105 Awake, my noble dame ! Your daughter is fledde with the Child of Elle, To doe the deede of shame." The baron he woke, the baron he rose, And called his merrye men all : 110 " And come thou forth, Sir John the knighte ; The ladye is carried to thrall." THE CHILD OF ELLE. 7 Faire Emmeline scant had ridden a mile, A mile forth of the towne, When she was aware of her fathers men 115 Come galloping over the downe. And foremost came the carlish knight, Sir John of the north countraye : " Nowe stop, nowe stop, thou false traitoure, Nor carry that ladye awaye. 120 " For she is come of hye lynage, And was of a ladye borne, And ill it beseems thee, a false churles sonno, To carrye her hence to scorne." " Nowe loud thou lyest, Sir John the knighte, 125 Nowe thou doest lye of mee ; A knight mee gott, and a ladye me bore, Soe never did none by thee. " But light nowe downe, my Ladye faire, Light downe, and hold my steed, 130 While I and this discourteous knighte Doe trye this arduous deede. " But light now downe, my deare Ladye, Light downe, and hold my horse ; While I and this discourteous knight 135 Doe trye our valours force." Faire Emmeline sighde, faire Emmeline wept, And aye her heart was woe, While twixt her love and the carlish knight Past many a baleful blowe. 14C The Child of Elle hee fought soe well, As his weapon he wavde amaine, That soone he had slaine the carlish knight, And layde him upon the plaine. And nowe the baron, and all his men 145 Full fast approached nye : Ah ! what may Ladye Emmeline doe? Twere u 87 and under colour of the queen's authority, committed divers oppressions, especially upon the Forbes's .... having killed Arthur Forbes, brother to the Lord Forbes Not long after he sent to summon the house of Tavoy, pertaining to Alexander Forbes. The Lady refusing to yield without direction from her husband, he put fire unto it, and burnt aer therein with children and servants, being twenty- seven persons in all. " This inhuman and barbarous cruelty made his name odious, and stained all his former doings ; otherwise he was held very active and fortunate in his enterprises." This fact, which had escaped the Editor's notice, was in the most obliging manner pointed out to him by an ingenious writer, who signs his name H. H. (Newcastle, May 9), in the Gentleman' a Magazine for May, 1775, p. 219 BOOK II. I. tfjat illustrate J*>I)afefpearr. OCR great dramatic poet having occasionally quoted many ancient ballads, anil even taken the plot of one, if not more, of his plays from among them, it was judged proper to preserve as many of these as could be recovered, and. that they might be the more easily found, to exhibit them in one collective view. This SECOND BOOK is therefore set apart for the reception of such ballads as are quoted by Shakspeare, or contribute in any degree to illustrate his writings : this being the principal point in view, the candid reader will pardon the admission of some pieces that have no other kind of merit. The design of this BOOK being of a dramatic tendency, it may not be improperly introduced with a few observations ON THE ORIGIN OF THE ENGLISH STAGE, and ON THE CONDUCT OF OUK FIRST DRAMATIC POETS, a subject which, though not unsuccessfully handled by several good writers already, 1 will yet perhaps admit of some further illustration. ON THE ORIGIN OF THE ENGLISH STAGE, ETC. It is well known that dramatic poetry, in this and most other nations of Europe, owes its origin, or at least its revival, to those religious shows, which in the dark ages were usually exhibited on the more solemn festivals. At those times they were wont to represent in the churches the lives and miracles of the Saints, or some of the more important stories of Scripture. And as the most mysterious subjects were frequently chosen, such as the Incarnation, Passion, and Resur- rection of Christ, &c., these exhibitions acquired the general name of MYSTERIES. At first they were probably a kind of dumb shows, inter- mingled, it may be, with a few short speeches ; at length they grew into a regular series of connected dialogues, formally divided into acts and scenes. Specimens of these in their most improved state (being at best but poor artless compositions may be seen among Dodsley's Old Plays, and in Osborne . Harleyan Miscel. How they were exhibited in 1 Bp. Warburton's Shakesp. vol. v. p. 338. Pref. to Dodsley's Old Plays. Riccoboni's Acct. ofTheat. of Europe, &c. &c. These were all th author had seen when be first drew up this Essay. THB ENGLISH STAGS. 89 their most simple form, we may learn from an ancient novel, often quoted by our old dramatic poets, 2 entitled. . .a mtYVt $t&t of a man u)at toatf rallclf 8?0tolrgIa!S, 3 &c., being a translation from the Dutch language, in which lie is named Ulem^iegle. Howloglas, whose waggish tricks are the subject of this book, after many adventures comes to live with a priest, who makes him his parish-clerk. This priest is described as keeping a leman, or concubine, who had but one eye, to whom Howleglas owed a grudge for revi aling his rogueries to his master. The story thus proceeds " And than in the meane season, while Howleglas was parysh clarke, at Easter they should play the Resurrection of our Lorde : and for because than the men wer not learned, nor could not read, the priest toke his leman, and put her in the grave for an Aungel : and this seing Howleglas, toke to him iij of the simplest persons that were in the towne, that played the iij Maries; and the person [i. e. parson or rector] played Ohriste, with a baner in his hand. Than saide Howleglas to the symple persons : Whan the Aungel asketh you, whom you seke, you may save, The parsons leman with one iye. Than it fortuned that the tyme was come that they must playe, and the Aungel asked them whom they sought; and than sayd they, as Howleglas had shewed and lerned them afore, and than answered they. We seke the priests leman with one iye. And than the prieste might heare that he was mocked. And whan the priestes leman herd that, she arose out of the grave, and would have smyten with her fist Howleglas upon the cheke, but she missed him and smote one of the simple persons that played one of the thre Maries ; and he gave her another ; and than toke she him by the heare [hair] ; and that seing his wyfe, came running hastely to smite the priestes leman ; and than the priest seeing this, caste down hys baner and went to helpe his woman, so that the one gave the other sore strokes, and made great noyse in the churche. And than Howleglas seying them lyinge to- gether by the eares in the bodi of the churche, went his way out of the village, and came no more there." 4 As the old Mysteries frequently required the representation of some allegorical personage, such as Death, Sin, Charity, Faith, and the like, by degrees the rude poets of those unlettered ages began to form complete dramatic pieces, consisting entirely of such personifications. These they entitled Moral Plays, or Moralities. The Mysteries were very inartificial, representing the Scripture stories simply according to the letter. But the Moralities are not devoid of invention : they exhibit outlines of the dramatic art ; they contain something of a fable or plot, and even attempt to delineate characters and manners. I have now before me two that were printed early in the reign ot Henry VIII. ; in which I think one may plainly discover the seeds of Tragedy 2 See Ben Jonson's Poetaster, act iii. sc. 4, and his Masque of The Fortunate Isles. Whalley's edit. vol. ii. p. 49, vol. vi. p. 190. 3 Howleglas is said in the Preface to have died in M.CCCC.L. At the end of the book, M.CCC.L. 4 C impnmtrtJ Sy iSHlnlltjam CoalanO : without date, n 4to bl. let. aini.ng Mr. Gurrick s Old Piays, K. vol. z. 90 ON TEE OPJGIN OF and Comedy for which reason I shall give a short analysis :>f them both. One of them is entitled <2;bmi #lan. s The subject of this piece is the summoning of Man out of tfie world by Death ; and its moral, that nothing will then avail him but a well-spent life and the comforts of religion. This subject and moral are opened in a monologue spoken by the Messenger (for that was the name generally given by our ancestors to the prologue on their rude stage): then GoD 6 is represented; who, after some general complaints on the degeneracy of mankind, calls for iJeth, and orders him to bring before his tribunal Every-man, for so is called the personage who represents the human race. Every-man appears, and receives the summons with all the marks of confusion and terror. When Deth is withdrawn, Every-man applies for relief in this distress to Fellowship, Kindred, Goods, or Kiches, but they successively renounce and forsake him. In this disconsolate state he betakes himself to Good-dedes, who, after upbraiding him with his long neglect of her, 7 introduces him to her sister Knowledge, and she leads him to the " holy man, Confession" who appoints him penance : this he in- flicts upon himself on the stage, and then withdraws to receive the sacraments of the priest. On his return he begins to wax faint, and after Strength, Beauty, Discretion, and Five Wits" have all taken their final leave of him, gradually expires on the stage; Good-dedes still accompanying him to the last. Then an Aungell descends to sing his requiem : and the epilogue is spoken by a person called Doctour, who recapitulates the whole, and delivers the moral : " C- This memoriall men may have in mynde, Ye herers, take it of worth old and yonge, And forsake Pryde, for he disceyveth you in thende, And remembre fceaute, Five Witts, Strength, and Discrecion, They all at last do Every-man forsake ; Save his Good Dedes there dothe he take : But beware, for and they be small, Before God he hath no helpe at all," &c. From this short analysis it may be observed, that CFberj) ;JHan is a grave solemn piece, not without some rude attempts to excite terror and pity, and therefore may not improperly be referred to the class of Tragedy. It is remarkable, that in this old simple drama the fable is conducted upon the strictest model of the Greek Tragedy. The action is simply one ; the time of action is that of the performance ; the scene is never changed, nor the stage ever empty. Every-man, the hero of s This play has been reprinted by Mr. Hawkins in his Oriyin of the English Drama, 3 vols. 12mo, Oxford, 1773. See vol. i. p. 27. 6 The second person of the Trinity seems to be meant. 7 Those above mentioned are male characters. 8 i. e. The five Senses. These are frequently exhibited as five distinct personages upon the Spanish stage (see Riccoboni, p. 98) ; but our moralist has represented them all by one character. THE ENGLISH STAGE. 91 ihe piece, after his first appearance, never withdraws, except when ha goes out to receive the sacraments, which could not well be exhibited in public ; and during his absence, Knowledge descants on the ex- cellence and power of tlie priesthood, somewhat after the manner of the Greek chorus. And, indeed, except in the circumstance of Every-man'g expiring on the stage, the " Samson Agonistes " of Milton is hardly formed on a severer plan. 9 The other play is entitled ^ick-^tavntV, 1 and bears no distant resemblance to Comedy : its chief aim seems to be to exhibit characters and manners, its plot being much less regular than the foregoing. The prologue is spoken by Pity, represented under the character of an ageil pilgrim; he is joined by Contemplacyon and Perseverance, two holy men, who, after lamenting the degeneracy of the age, declare their resolution of stemming the torrent. Pity then is left upon the stage, and presently found by Frewyll, representing a lewd debauchee, wi.o, with his dissolute companion Imagination, relate their manner of life, and not without humour describe the stews and other places of base resort. They are presently joined by Hick scorner, who is drawn as a libartine returned from travel, and, agreeably to his name, scoffs at religion. These three are described as extremely vicious, who glory in every act of wickedness; at length two of them quarrel, and Pity endeavours to part the fray ; on this they fall upon him, put him in the stocks, and there leave him. Pity, thus imprisoned, descants in a kind of lyric measure on the profligacy of the age, and in this situation he is found by Perseverance and Contemplacyon, who set him at liberty, and advise him to go in search of the delinquents. As soon as he is gone Frewytt appears again ; and, after relating in a very comic mannei some of his rogueries and escapes from justice, is rebuked by the twc holy men, who, after a long altercation, at length convert him and hu libertine companion Imagination from their vicious course of life ; and then the play ends with a few verses from Perseverance, by way of epilogue. This, and every Morality I have seen, conclude with a solemn prayer. They are all of them in rhyme ; in a kind of loose stanza, intermixed with distichs. It would be needless to point out the absurdities in the plan and conduct of the foregoing play ; they are evidently great. It is sufficient to observe, that, bating the moral and religious reflection of Pity, &c., the piece ia of a comic cast, and contains a humorous display of some of the vices of the age. Indeed the author has generally been so little attentive to the allegory, that we need only substitute other names to his personages, and we have real characters and living manners. We see, then, that the writers of these moralities were upon the very threshold of real Tragedy and Comedy ; and therefore we are not to wonder that tragedies and comedies in form soon after took place, ' See more of Every-Man, p. 95. Pref. to b. 5. Note. 1 < mprnntett 6 rat SJffrjnijjn to Z9artie, no date ; in 4to bl. let. This play has also been reprinted by Mr. Hawkins in his Origin ol the English Drama, vol. i. p. 69. 92 ON THE ORIGIN OF especially as the revival of learning about this time brought them acquainted with the Koman and Grecian models. II. At what period of time the Moralities had their rise here, it is difficult to discover ; but plays of Miracles appear to have been ex- hibited in England soon after the Conquest. Matthew Paris tells us, that Geoffrey, afterwards Abbot of St. Alban's, a Norman, who had been sent for over by Abbot Richard to take upon him the direction of the school of that monastery, coming too late, went to Dunstable, and taught in the abbey there ; where lie caused to be acted (probably by his scholars) a MIRACLE-PLAY OF ST. CATHARINE composed by himself.' This was long before the year 1119, and probably within the eleventh century. The above play of ST. CATHARINE was, for aught that appears, the first spectacle of this sort that was exhibited in these kingdoms; and an eminent French writer thinks it was even the first attempt towards the revival of dramatic entertainments in all Europe ; being long before the representations of Mysteries in France, for these did not begin till the year 1398. 3 But whether they derived their origin from the above exhibition or not, it is certain that holy plays, representing the miracles and suffer- ings of the Saints, appear to have been no novelty in the reign of Henry II., and a lighter sort of interludes were not then unknown. 4 In Chaucer's time, " Plays of Miracles " in Lent were the common resort of idle gossips. 5 They do not appear to have been so prevalent on the continent, for the learned historian of the Council of Constance 6 ascribes to the English the introduction of plays into Germany. He tells us that the emperor, having been absent from the council for some time, was, at his return, received with great rejoicings ; and that the English 2 Apud Dunestapliam .... quendam ludum de sancta Katerina (quern MIRACULA vulgariter appellamus) fecit. Ad qua decoranda, petiit a sacrista sancti Albani, ut sibi Capos Chorales accommodarentur, et obtinuit. Et fuit Indus ille de sancta Katerina. Vitae Abbat. ad fin. Hist. Mat. Paris, folio, 1689, p. 56. We see here that Plays of Miracles were become common enough in the time of Mat. Paris, who flourished about 1240 ; but that ; .ndeed appears from the more early writings of Fitz-Stephens, quoted below. 3 Vide Abre'ge' Chron. de VHist. de France, par M. Henault, a 1'ann. .179. 4 See Fitz-Stephens's Description of London, preserved by Stow, Londania pro spectaculis theatralibus, pro ludis scenicis, ludos habet sanctiores, represen- tationes rniraculorum, tyc. He is thought to have written in the reign of Henry II., and to have died in that of Richard I. It is true at the end of this book we find mentioned Henricum regem tertium ; but this is doubtless Henry the Second's son, who was crowned during the life of his father, in 1170, and is generally distinguished as Hex jurenis, Bex Jilius, and some- times they were jointly named Jte/jes Ant/lice. From a passage in his Chap. De Religione, it should seem tnat the body of St. Thomas 4 Becket wa jnst then a new acquisition to the church of Canterbury. 4 See Prologue to Wife of B'th's Tale, v. 6137, Tyrwhitt's jd. M. L'Enfant. Vide Hist. du. C^nc. de Constance, vol. ii. p. 440. THE ENGLISH STAGE. 93 Fathers in particular did, upon that occasion, cause a sacred comedy to be acted before him on Sunday, January Hist, 1417; the subjects of which were: THE NATIVITY OF OUR SAVIOUR; THIC ARRIVAL OF THE EASTERN MAGI; and THE MASSACRE BY HEROD. Thence it appears. Bays this writer, that the Germans are obliged to the English for the invention of thia sort of spectacles, unknown to them before that period. The fondness of our ancestors for dramatic exhibitions of this kind, and some curious particulars relating to this subject, will appear from the HocsHOLD-BooK of the fifth Earl of Northumberland, A.D. 1512,' whence I shall select a few extracts, which show that the exhibiting Scripture Dramas on the great festivals entered into the regular establishment, and formed part of the domestic regulations of our ancient nobility : and, what is more remarkable, that it was as much the business of the Chaplain in those days to compose PLAYS for the family, as it is now for him to make sermons. "My Lordes Chapleyns in Household vj. viz. The Almonar, and if he be a maker of INTERLUDYS, than he to have a servaunt to the intent for writynge of the PARTS; and ells to have uou. The maister of Gramer," &c. Sect. v. p. 44. " Item. My lorde usith and accustomyth to gyf yerely,if is lordship kepe a chapell and be at home, them of his lordschipes chapell, if they doo play the Play of the NATIVITE uppon Cristynmes day in the jnornyinge in my lords chappell before his lordship, xxs." Sect. xliv. p. 343. " Item ... to them of his lordship chappell and others his lordshipis servaunts that doeth play the Play before his lordship upon SHROF- TEWSDAY at night yerely in reward x." Ibid. p. 345. " Item ... to them . . . that playth the Play of RESURRECTION upon Estur day in the mornnynge in my lordis ' chapell ' before his lord- abipe xx." Ibid " Item. My lorde useth and accustomyth yerly to gyf hym which is ordynede to be the MASTER OF THE EEVELLS yerly in my lordis hous in Cristmas for the overseyinge and orderinge of his lordschips Playes, Interludes, and Dresinge that is plaid before his lordship in his hous in the xijth dayes of Cristenmas, and they to have in rewarde for that caus yerly xxs." Ibid. p. 346. "Item. My lorde usith and accustomyth to gyf every of the iiij Parsones that hia lordschip admyted as his PLAYERS to com to his lordship yt-rly at Cristynmes ande at all other such tymes as his lord- ship shall commande them for playing of Playe and Interludes affor his lordship, in his lordshipis hous for every of their fees for an hole yere . . ." JWd. p. 351. " Item. To he payd ... for rewards to PLAYERS for Plays playd at 7 "The regulations and establishments of the household of Hen. Alg. Percy, 5th Earl of Northumb. Lond. 1770," 8vo. Whereof a small impression was printed by order of the late Duke and Duchess of North- umberland to bestow in presents to their friends. Although begun in 1512, some of the regulations were composed so late as 1525. 94 ON THE ORIGIN OF Christynmas by Stranegeres in my house after xx d . 8 every play, by estimacion sorume xxxiijs. iiij." 9 Sect. i. p. 22. " Item. My lorde usith, and accustometh to gif yerely when Ilia lordshipp is at home, to every erlis Players that comes to his lordshipe betwixt Cristynmas ande Candelmas, if he be his special lorde and frende and kynsman xxg." Sect. xliv. p. 340. " Item. My lorde usith and accustomyth to gyf yerely when his lordship is at home to every lordis PLATERS, that comyth to his lord- shipe betwixt. Crystynmas ande Candelmas xs." Ibid. The reader will observe the great difference in the rewards here given to such Players as were retainers of noble personages, and such as are styled Strangers, or, as we may suppose, only strollers. The profession of the common player was about this time held by some in low estimation. In an old satire entitled Cock Lorreles Bote, 1 the author, enumerating the most common trades or callings, as carpenters, coopers, joiners, &c., mentions " Players, purse-cutters, money-batterers, Golde-washers, tomblers, jogelers, Pardoners," &c. Sign. B. vj. III. It hath been observed already that plays of Miracles, or Mysteries, as they were called, led to the introduction of Moral Plays, or Moralities, which prevailed so early, and became so common, that towards the latter end of King Henry the Vllth's reign John Eastel, brother-in-law to Sir Thomas More, conceived a design of making them the vehicle of science and natural philosophy. With this view he published ' C. 8 itfJn mtcrlutte arrti a merg af flje nature of tl)r utt rlrmrnts uTdarmicjr ninny proper p miits of |)i)y Insapljn natttrall, antt of ttgbrrli stratmjrc lantes, 2 &c. It is observablo that the poet speaks of the discovery of America as then recent : " Within this xx yere Westwards be founde new landes, That we never harde tell of before this," &c. The West Indies were discovered by Columbus in 1492, which fixes 8 This was not so small a sum then as it may now appear ; for in another part of the MS. the price ordered to be given for a fat ox is but 13s. 4d., and for a lean one 8s. 9 At this rate, the number of Plays acted must have been twenty. 1 Pr. at the Sun in Fleet-street, by W de Worde : no date, b. 1. 4to. 2 Mr. Garrick has an imperfect copy (Old Plays, I. vol. iii.). The Dramatis Personae are, " C. The Messengere [or Prologue] Nature natu- rate. Humanyte. Studyous Desire. Sensuall Appetyte. The Taverner. Experyence. Ygnoraunce. (Also yf ye lyste ye may brynge in a dys- gysynge.") Afterwards follows a table of the matters handled in the interlude. Among which are " C. Of certeyn conclusiota prouvynge the yerthe must nedes be rounde, and that it hengyth in the /nyddes ci the fyrmament, and that yt is in circumference abovt xxi M. myle." THE ENGLISH STAGE. 95 the vriting of this play to about 1510 (two years before the date of the above Household-Book). The play of ^tdu^COrncr was pro- bably somewhat more ancient, as he still more imperfectly alludes to the American discoveries, under the name of "the Newe founde llonde." Sign. A. vij. It is observable that in the older Moralities, as in that last mentioned, Every-man, &c., there is printed no kind of stage direction for the exits and entrances of the personages, no division of acts and scenes. But in the moral interlude of ILustn JJuiJCUtutf, 3 written under Edward VI., the exits and entrances begin to be noted in the margin :* at length in Queen Elizabeth's reign, Moralities appeared formally divided into acts and scenes, with a regular prologue, &c. One of thtse is reprinted by Dodsley. Before we quit this subject of the very early printed Plays, it my just be observed that, although so few are now extant, it should seem many were printed before the reign of Queen Elizabeth; as at the beginning of her reign, her INJUNCTIONS, in 1559, are particularly directed to the suppressing of " many Pamphlets, PLAYES, and Ballads ; that no manner of person shall enterprize to print any such," &c., but under certain restrictions. Vide Sect. v. In the time of Henry VIII. one or two dramatic pieces had been published under the classical names of Comedy and Tragedy, 5 but they appear not to have been intended for popular use : it was not till the religious ferments had subsided that the public had leisure to attend to dramatic poetry. In the reign of Elizabeth, tragedies and comedies began to appear hi form, and could the poets have persevered, the first models were good, <>arrj00ur, a regular tragedy, was acted in 1561 ;" " C. Of certeyne points of cosmographye and of dyvers straunge regyons, and of the new found landys and the maner of the people." This part is extremely curious, as it shows what notions were entertained of the new American discoveries by our own countrymen. * Described in Preface to book 5. The Dramatis Persona of this piece are, " C. Messenger. Lusty Juventus. Good Counsaill. Know- ledge. Sathau the devyll. Hypocrisie. Fellowship. Abominable-lyving [an Harlot]. God's-merciful-promises." 4 I have also discovered some few Exeats and Intrats in the very old Interlude of the J0ur CPIemcnW. 4 Bp. Bale had applied the name of Tragedy to his Mystery of i5a fl5 $3vomtS'rs', in 1538. In 1540, John Palsgrave, B.D., had republished a Latin comedy called 5U0l ito ; Langbane, 8vo; and Tanner, l.mo. 96 ON THE ORIGIN OF and Gascoigne, in 1566, exhibited j$0cata a translation from Euripides* as also QCfyt ^UgpOSCS, a reguW comedy, from Ariosto : near thirty years before any of Shakespeare's were printed. The people, however, still retained a relish for their old Mysteries and Moralities, 7 and the popular dramatic poets seem to ha e made them their models. The graver sort of Moralities appear to have given birth to our modern Tragedy ; as our Comedy evidently took its rise from the lighter interludes of that kind. And as most of these pieces contain an absurd mixture of religion and buffoonery, an eniment critic * has well deduced from thence the origin of our unnatural Tragi-comediea. Even after the people had been accustomed to tragedies and comedies, Moralities still kept their ground; one of them entitled Cf)C ;j9cU) Custom, 9 was printed so late as 1573 : at length they assumed the name of Masques * and with some classical improvements became, hi the two following reigns, the favourite entertainments of the court. IV. The old Mysteries, which ceased to be acted after the Reforma- tion, appear to have given rise to a third species of stage exl.ibition, which, though now confounded with Tragedy and Comedy, were by our first dramatic writers considered as quite distinct from them both : these were Historical Plays, or HISTORIES, a epecies of dramatic writing, which resembled the old Mysteries in representing a series of historical events, simply in the order of time in which they happened, without any regard to the three great unities. These pieces seem to differ from Tragedies, just as much as historical poems do from epic : as the Pharsalia does from the ^Eneid. What might contribute to make dramatic poetry take this form was that soon after the Mysteries ceased to be exhibited there was published a large collection of poetical narratives, called CJ)E iHtrrour f0r 5Ha {JtS'trate &, 2 wherein a great number of the most eminent characters in English history are drawn relating their own misfortunes. This book was popular, and of a dramatic cast, and therefore, as an elegant writer 3 has well observed, might have its influence in producing Historical Plays. These narratives probably furnished the subjects, and the ancient Mysteries suggested the plan. There appears indeed to have been one instance of an attempt at an HISTORICAL PLAY itself, which was perhaps as early as any Mystery on a religious subject; for such, T think, we may pronounce the represen- tation of a memorable event in English history, that was EXPRESSED IK ACTION AND RHYMES. This was the old Coventry play of 1 The general reception the old Moralities had upon th stage, will account for the fondness of all our first poets for allegory. Subjects of this kind were familiar to everybody. 8 Bp. Warburt. Shaksp. vol. v. 9 Reprinted among Dodsley's Old Plays, vol. i. 1 In some of these appeared characters full as extraordinary as in any of the old Moralities. In Ben Jonson's Masque of CIjris'tntRjS, 1616 one of the personages is Minced Pye. * The first part of which was printed in 1559. 1 Walpole, Catal. of Royal and Noble Authors, vol. i p. 16t5, 7. THE KNGLISH STAGE. 97 founded on the story of the massacre ot the Danes, as it happened on St. Brice's niglit, November 13th, 1002. 4 The play in question was performed by certain men of Coventry among the other BIIOWS and entertainments at Keuilworth Castle in July, 1575, prepared for Queen Elizabeth ; and this the rather, " because the matter men- tioneth how valiantly our English women, for the love of their country, behaved themselves." The writer, whose words are here quoted, 8 hath given a short lescription of the performance ; which seems on that occasion to have been without recitation or rhymes, and reduced to mere dumb-show ; consisting of violent skirmishes and encounters, first between Dauish and English, " lance-knights on horseback," armed with spear and shield; and afterwards between "hosts" of footmen: which at length ended in the Danes being "beaten down, overcome, and many led captive by our English women." 7 This play, it seems, which was wont to be exhibited in their city yearly, and which had been of great antiquity and long continuance there, 8 had of late been suppressed, at the instance of some well-meaning but precise preachers, of whose "sourness" herein the townsmen complain ; urging that their play was " without example of ill manners, papistry, or any superstition ;" * which shows it to have been entirely distinct from a religious Mystery. But having been discontinued, and, as appears from the narrative, taken up of a sudden after the sports were begun, the players apparently had not been able to recover the old rhymes, or to procure new ones, to accompany the action ; which, if it originally represented "the outrage and importable insolency of the Danes, the grievous complaint of Huua, King Ethelred's chieftain in wars :" ' his counselling and contriving the plot to dispatch them ; con- 4 This must not be confounded with the Mysteries acted on Corpus Christi day by the Franciscans at Coventry, which were also called COVENTRY PLAYS, and of which an account is given from T. Warton's History of English Poetry, &c., in Malone's Shakspeare, vol. ii. part ii. pp. 13, 14. * Not 1012, as printed in Laneham's letter, mentioned below. 6 Ro. Laneham, whose LETTER containing a full description of the Shows, &c., is reprinted at large in Nichols's " Progresses of Queen Eliza- beth," &c., vol. i. 4to, 1788. That writer's orthography being peculiar and affected, is not here followed. Laneham describes this play of $J0r.R (TttCiftrap, which was " presented in an historical cue by certain good-hearted men of Coventry " (p. 32), and which was " wont to be play'd in their citie yearly " (p. 33), as if it were peculiar to them, terming it " THEIR old storial show " (p. 32). And so it might he as represented and expressed by them " after their manner " (p. 33), although we are also told by Bevil Higgons, that St. Brice's EVE was still celebrated by the northern English in commemora- tion of this massacre of the Danes, the women beating brass instruments, and singing old rhymes, in praise of their cruel ancestors. See his Short View of Eng. History, 8vo, p. 17. (The Preface is dated 1734.) 7 Laneham, p. 37. Ibid. p. 33. 'Ibid Ibid. p. 32. VOL. I. H 98 ON THE ORIGIN OP eluding with the conflicts above mentioned, and their final suppression " expressed in actions and rhymes " after their manner, 2 one can hardly conceive a more regular model of a complete drama, and if taken up soon after the event, it must have been the earliest of the kind in Europe. 3 Whatever this old play, or ' storial show," 4 was at the time it was exhibited to Queen Elizabeth, it had probably our young Shakspeare for a spectator, who was then in his twelfth year, and doubtless attended with all the inhabitants of the surrounding country at these " princely pleasures of Kenelworth," 5 whence Stratford is only a few miles distant. And as the queen was much diverted with the Coventry Play, " whereat Her Majesty laught well," and rewarded the peiformera with two bucks, and five marks in money : who, " what rejoicing upon their ample reward, and what triumphing upon the good acceptance, vaunted their Play was never so dignified, nor ever any Players before so beatified :" but especially if our young bard afterwards gained admittance into the castle to^see a Play, which the same evening, after supper, was there " presented of a very good theme, but so set forth by the actors' well-handling, that pleasure and mirth made it seem very short, though it lasted two good hours and more," 8 we may imagine what an impression was made on his infant mind. Indeed, the dramatic cast of many parts of that superb entertainment, which continued nineteen days, and was the most splendid of the kind ever attempted in this kingdom ; the addresses to the queen in the personated characters of a Sybille, a Savage Man, and Sylvanus, as she approached or departed from the castle ; and, on the water, by Arion, a Triton, or the Lady of the Lake, must have had a very great effect on a young imagination, whose dramatic powers were hereafter to astonish the world. But that the Historical Play was considered by our old writers, and by Shakspeare himself, as distinct from Tragedy and Comedy, appears from numberless passages of their works. " Of late days," says Stow, "instead of those Stage-Playes 7 hath been used Comedies, Tragedies. Enterludes, and HISTORIES, both true and fayned." Survey of London. 8 Beaumont and Fletcher, in the prologue to Cl) Captain, eaj, " This is nor Comedy, nor Tragedy, Nor HISTOEY." Poloni-os in Camlet commends the actors, as the best in the world, 2 Laneham, p. 33. 3 The rhymes, &c., prove this play to have been in English ; whereas Mr. Thomis Warton thinks the Mysteries composed before 1328 were in Latin. Malone's Shaksp. vol. ii. pt. ii. p. 9. 4 Laneham, p. 32. s See Nichols's Progresses, vol. i. p. 57. * Laneham, p. 38, 39. This was en Sunday evening, July 9. 7 The Creation of the World, acted at Skinners-well in 1409. See Stow's Survey of London, 1603, 4to, p. 94 (said in the title-page to be " written in 1598 "). See also Warton's Observations on Spenser, vi 1. ii. p. 109. TOE ENGLISH STAGE. 99 * either for Tragedie, Comedie, Historic, Pastorall," &c. And Shak- gpeare's friends, Heminge and Condell, in the first folio edition of his Plays, in 1623," have not only entitled their book " Mr. William Shakespeare's Comedies, HISTORIES, and Tragedies," but in their table of contents have arranged them under those three several heads; placing in the class of Histories, " King John, Richard II., Henry IV. two parts, Henry V., Henry VI. three parts, Richard III., and Henry VIII.;" to which they might have added such of his other Plays as have their subjects taken from the old Chronicles, or Plutarch's Lives. Although Shakspeare is found not to have been the first who in- vented this species of drama, 1 yet he cultivated it with sucli superior success, and threw upon this simple inartificial tissue of scenes such a blaze of genius, that his HISTORIES maintain their ground in defi.tm-e of Aristotle and all the critics of the classic school, and will ever continue to interest and instruct an English audience. Before Shakspeare wrote, Historical Plays do not appear to have attained this distinction, being not mentioned in Queen Elizabeth's licence, in 1574, 2 to James Burbage and others, who are only em- powered " to use, exercyse, and occupie the arte and facultye of playenge Comedies, Tragedies, Enterludes, Stage-Playes, .and such other like." But when Shakspeare's HISTORIES had become the orna- ments of the stage, they were considered by the public, and by himself, as a formal and necessary species, and are thenceforth so distinguished in public instruments. They are particularly inserted in the licence granted by King James I. in 1603 3 to W. Shakspeare himself, and the Players his fellows, who are authorised " to use and exercise the arte and faculty of playing Comedies, Tragedies, HISTORIES, Interludes, Morals, Pastorals, Stage- Plaies, and such like." The same merited distinction they continued to maintain after his death, till the theatre itself was extinguished; for they are expressly mentioned in a warrant i'i 1G22, for licensing certain " late Comedians of Queen Anne deceased, to bring up children in the qualitie and exercise of playing Comedies, Histories, Interludes, Morals, Pastorals, Stage- Plaies, and such like." 4 The same appears in an admonition issued in 1637, s by Philip, Earl of Pembroke and Montgomery, then Lord Chamberlain, to the Matter and Wardens of the Company of Printers and Stationers : wherein is set forth the complaint of His Majesty's servants the Players, that The same distinction is continued in the 2d and 3d folios, &c. See Malone's Shaksp. vol. i. part ii. p. 31. Ibid. vol. i. part ii. p. 37. Ibid. vol. i. part ii. p. 40. Ibid. p. 49. Here Histories, or Historical Plays, are found totally to have excluded the mention of Tragedies ; a proof of their superior popu- larity. In au order for the king's comedians to attend King Charles I. in his summer's progress, 1636 (ibid. p. 144), Histories are not particularly mentioned ; but so neither are Tragedies : they being briefly directed to act Playes, Comedyes, and Interludes, without any lett," &c. Ibid. p. 139. H 2 100 ON THE ORIGIN OF " diverse of their books of Comedyes and Tragedies, CHBOSICLE- Hisrt'RYES, and the like," had been printed and published to their prejudice, &c. This distinction, we see, prevailed for near half a century ; but after the Restoration, when the Stage revived for the entertainment of a new race of auditors, many of whom had been exiled in France, and formed their taste from tlie French theatre, Shakspeare'a HISTORIES appear to have been no longer relished ; at least, the distinction respecting them is dropped in the patents that were immediately granted after tue king's return. This appears, not only from the allowance to Mr. William Beeston, in June 1660, 6 to use the house in Salisbury Court " for a Play-house, wherein Comedies. Tragedies, Tragi-Comedies, Pastoralls, and Inter- lades, may be acted," but also from the fuller grant (dated August 21, 16VO), T to Thomas Killigrew, Esq., and Sir William Davenaut. Knight, by which they have authority to erect two companies of plovers, and to fit up two theatres " for the representation of Tragydies, Comedyes, Playes, Operas, and all other entertainments of tbat nature." But while Shakspeare was the favourite dramatic poet, his HISTORIES had such superior merit, that he might well claim to be the chief, if not the only historic dramatist that kept possession of the English stage; which gives a strong support to the tradition mentioned by Gildon, 8 that, in a conversation with Ben Jonson, our bard vindicated his Historical Plays, by urging, that as he had found " the nation in general very ignorant of history, he wrote them in order to instruct the people in this particular." This is assigning not only a good motive, but a very probable reason for his preference of this species of composition ; since we cannot doubt but his illiterate countrymen would not only want such instruction when he first began to write, notwithstanding the obscure dramatic chroniclers who precede him, but also that they would highly profit by his admirable Lectures on Engli-h History, so long as he continued to deliver them to his audience; and as it implies no claim to his being ike first who intro- troduced our chronicles on the stage, I see not why the tradition should be rejected. Upon the whole we have had abundant proof that both Shakspeare and his contemporaries considered his HISTORIES, or Historical Plays, as of a legitimate distinct species, sufficiently separate from Tragedy and Comedy ; a distinction which deserves the particular attention of his critics and commentators, who, by not adverting to it, deprive him of his proper defence and best vindication for his neglect of the unities. and departure from the classical dramatic forms : for, if it be the fir.-t canon of sound criticism to examine any work by whatever rule the author prescribed for his own observance, then we ought not to try Shakspeare's HISTORIES by the general laws of Tragedy or Comedy. Whether the rule itself be vicious or not, is another inquiry; bul certainly we ought to examine a work only by those principles ac- This is believed to be the date by Mr. Malone, vol. ii. part ii. p. 239. * Mnlnne. vol. ii. pt. ii. p. 244. Ibid. vol. vi. p. 427. THE ENGLISH STACK. 101 cording to which it was composed. This would save a deal of impertinent critic-ism. V. We have now brought the inquiry as low as was intended, but cannot quit it without entering into a short description of what muy be called the Economy of the ancient English Stage. Such was the fondness of our forefathers for dramatic entertainments, that not fewer than nineteen play-houses had been opened before the year 1633, when Prynne published his Histriomaetix. 9 From this writer it should seem that "tobacco, wine, and beer," 1 were in those days the usual accommodations in the theatre. With regard to the players themselves, the several companies were (as hath been already shown 2 ) retainers, or menial servants to par- ticular noblemen, 3 who protected them in the exercise of their pro- He speaks, in p. 492, of the play-houses in Bishopsgate-street and on Ludgate-hill, which are not among the seventeen enumerated in the Preface to Dodsley's Old Plays. Nay, it appears from Rymer's MSS. that twenty-three Play-houses had been at different periods open in London ; and even six of them at one time. See Malone's Shakspeare, vol. i. pt. ii. p. 48. 1 So, I think, we may infer from the following passage, viz. " How many are there, who, according to their several qualities, spend 2d. 3d. 4d. 6d. l'2d. I8d. 2s. and sometimes 4s. or 5s. at a play-house, day by day, if coach-hire, boat-hire, tobacco, wine, beere, and such like vaine expenses, which playes doe usually occasion, be cast into the reckoning ? " Prynne's Histrioinastix, p. 322. But that tobacco was smoked in the play-houses, appears from Taylor the Water-poet, in his Proclamation for Tobacco's Propagation. " Let Play-houses, drinking-schools, taverns, &c., be continually haunted with the contaminous vapours of it ; nay (if it be possible), bring it into the CHURCHES, and there choak up their preachers." Works, p. 253. And this was really the case at Cambridge : James I. sent a letter in 1607, against " taking tobacco " in St. Mary's. So I learn from my friend Mr. Farmer. A gentleman has informed me, that once going into a church in Holland, he saw the male part of the audience sitting with their hats on, smoking tobacco, while the preacher was holding forth in his morning- gown. z See the extracts above in p. 93, from the E. of Northum. Houshold- Book. * See the Preface to Dodsley's Old Plays. The author of an old invective against the Stage, called A third Blast of Retrnit from Plaies, use, 1579, 12mo, speaking of the Players, says, "These, because they are allowed to play every Sunday, make iiii or v Sundayes at least every week," fol. 24. So the Author of A Second and Third Blast of Retrait from Plates, 1580, 12mo. "Let the magistrate but repel them from the libertie of plaieng on the Sabboth- daie .... To plaie on the Sabboth is but a priviledge of sufferance, and might with ease be repelled, were it thoroughly followed." pp. 61, 62. So again, " Is not the Sabboth of al other daies the most abused ? . . . . Wherefore abuse not so the Sabboth-daie, my brethren ; leave not the temple of the Lord." . . . . " Those unsaverie morsels of unseemelie sen- tences passing out of the mouth of a ruffenlie plaier, doth more content the hungrie humors of the rude multitude, and carrieth better rellish in their mouthes, than the bread of the worde," &c. Vide pp. 63, 65, 69, &c. I do not recollect that exclamations of this kind occur in Prynne, whence I conclude that this enormity no longer subsisted in his time. It should also seem, from the author of the Third Blast above quoted, that the churches still continued to be used occasionally for theatres. Thus in p. 77, he says, that the Players (who, as hath been observed, were servants of the nobility), " under the title of their maisters, or as reteiners, are priviledged to roave abroad, and permitted to publish their mametree in everie temple of God, and that throughout England, unto the horrible contempt of praier." 1 " He entertaines us (says Overbury in his Character of an Actor) in the best leisure of our life, that is, betweene meales ; the most unfit time either for study, or bodily exercise." Even so late as in the reign of Charles II., plays generally began at three in the afternoon. 1 See Bio-jr. Brit. i. 117. n. D. 1 I say " no Entjlish actress .... on the public stage," because Prynne speaks of it as unusual enormity, that " they had Frenchwomen ac '.ors 104 ON THB ORIGIN OF Lastly, with regard to the play-house furniture and ornament, a writer of King Charles the Second's time, 4 who well remembered the preceding age, assures us, that in general " they had no other scenes nor decorations of the stage, but only old tapestry, and the stage strewed with rushes, with habits accordingly." 5 Yet Coryate thought our theatrical exhibitions, &c., splendid, when compared with what he saw abroad. Speaking of the Theatre for Comedies at Venice, he says, "The house is very beggarly and base in comparison of our stately play-houses in England : neyther can their actors compare with ours for apparrell, shewes, and musicke. Here I observed certaine things that I never saw before; for I saw WOMEN ACT, a thing that I never saw before, though I have heard that it hath been sometimes used in London : and they performed it with as good a grace, action, gesture, and whatsoever convenient for a player, as ever I saw any masculine actor." 6 It ought, however, to be observed, that amid such a multitude of play-houses as subsisted in the metropolis before the civil wars, there must have been a great difference between their several accommodations, ornaments, and prices : and that some would be much more showy than others, though probably all were much inferior in splendour to the two great theatres after the Restoration. %* The preceding ESSAY, although some of the materials are new arranged, hath received uo alteration deserving notice, from what it was in the second edition, 1767, except in Sect. IV., which in the present impression, hath been much enlarged. in a play not long since personated in Blackfriars Play-house." This was in 1629, vid. p. 215. And though female parts were performed by men or boys on the public stage, yet in Masques at court, the queen and her ladies made no scruple to perform the principal parts, especially in the reigns of James I. and Charles I. Sir William Davunant , after the Restoration, introduced women, scenery, and higher prices. See Gibber's Apology for his own Life. 4 See a short discourse on the Engfish Stage subjoined to Flecknor's Loves Kingdom, 1674, 12mo. 5 It appears from an Epigram of Taylor the Water-poet, that one of the principal theatres in his time, viz. the Globe, on the Bankside, Southwark (which Ben Jonson calls the " Glory of the Bank, and Fort of the whole Parish)," had been covered with thatch till it was burnt down in 1613. See Taylor's Sculler, Epig. 22, p. 31 ; Jonson's Execration on Vulcan. Puttenham tells us they used vizards in his time, " partly to supply the want of players, when there were more parts than there were persons, or that it was not thought meet to trouble .... princes chambers with too many folkes." Art of Eng. Poes. 1589, p. 26. From the last clause it should seem that they were chiefly used at the Masques at court. Horyate's Crudities, 4to, 1611, p. 247. THE ENGLISH STAGE. 105 This is mentioned, because, since it was first published, the History of the English Stage hath been copiously handled by Mr. Thomas Warton in his "History of English Poetry, 1774," &c., 3 vols. 4to (wherein is inserted whatever in these volumes fell in with his subject); and by Edmond Malone, Esq., who. in his " Historical Account of the English Stage" (Shaksp. vol. i. pt. ij. 1790), hath added greatly to t>ur knowledge of the economy and usages of our ancient theatres. TMF WWA7. ( 106 ) Clnm of tf)e of Were three noted outlaws, whose skill in archery rendered them formerly as famous in the North of England as Robin Hood and his fellows were in the midland counties. Their place of residence w;is in the forest of Englewood, not far from Carlisle (called corruptly in the ballad English-wood, whereas Engle- or Ingle-wood, signifies wood for firing). At what time they lived does not appear. The author of the common ballad on The Pedigree, Education, and Marriage of Robin Hood, makes them contemporary with Robin Hood's father, in order to give him the honour of beating them : viz. " The father of Robin a Forester was, And he shot in a lusty long-bow Two north-country miles and an inch at a shot, As the Pindar of Wakefield does know : " For he brought Adam Bell, and dim of the Clough, And William a Clowdeslee .To shoot with our Forester for forty mark ; And our Forester beat them all three. Collect, of Old Ballads, 1727, vol. i. p. 67. This seems to prove that they were commonly thought to have Ih ed before the popular hero of Sherwood. Our northern archers were not unknown to their southern countrymen, their excellence at the long-bow is often alluded to by our ancient poets. Shakspeare, in his comedy of Much Ado about Nothing, act i., makes Benedicke confirm his resolves of not yielding to love by this protestation, " If I do, hang me in a bottle like a cat, 1 and shoot at me ; and he that hits me, let him l>e clapt on the shoulder and called Adam :" meaning Adam Sell, as Theobald rightly observes, who refers to one or two other passages in our old poets wherein he is mentioned. The Oxford editor has also well conjectured that "Abraham Cupid," in Romeo and Juliet, act ii. sc. 1, should be " Adam Cupid," in allusion to our archer. Ben Jonson has mentioned Clym o' the Clough in his Alchemist, act i. sc. 2. And Sir William Davenant, in a mock poem of his, called The long Vacation in London, describes the attorneys and proctors as making matches to meet in Finsbury-fields. 1 Bottles formerly were of leather ; though perhaps a wooden bottle might be here meant. It is still a diversion in Scotland to hang up a cat in a small cask, or firkin, half filled with soot ; and then a parcel of clowns on horseback try to beat out the ends of it, in order to show their dexterity in escaping before the contents fall upon them. ADAM BELL, CLYM OF THK CLOUGH, ETC. 107 " With loynes in canvas bow-case tyde :* Where arrowes stick with mickle pride ; . . . Like ghosts of Adam Bell and Clymme. Sol seta for fear they'l shoot at him." Works, p. 291, fol. 1673. I have only to add further, concerning the principal hero of this ballad, that the BEI LS were noted rogues in the Nortli so late as the time of Queen Elizabeth. See in Rymer's Fcef 170 They sayde " to hange a good yeman, Called Wyllyam of Cloudesle." That lytle boye was the towne swyne-heard, And kept fayre Alyces swyne ; Oft he had scene William in the wodde, 175 And geuen hym there to dyne. He went out att a crevis in the wall, And lightly to the woode dyd gone ; There met he with these wightye yemen Shortly and anone. 180 " Alas ! " then sayde that lytle boye, " Ye tary here all to longe ; Cloudesle is taken and dampned to death. All readye for to honge." " Alas ! " then sayd good Adam Bell, 185 " That ever we see thys daye ! He had better with us have taryed, So ofte as we dyd hym praye. " He myght have dwelt in grene foreste, Under the shadowes grene, 19C And have kepte both hym and us in reste, Out of trouble and teene." V 179, younge men. P.O. V. 190, sic MS. shadowes sheene. P.C. AND WILLIAM OF OLOUDE3LY. 113 Adam bent a ryght good bow, A great bart sone bee bad slayne ; " Take tbat, cbylde," be sayed. " to thy dynner, 195 And bryng me myne arrowe agayne." '' Now go we bence," sayd these wightye yeomen, " Tary we no lenger here ; We shall hym borowe, by God his grace, Though we bye it full dere." 200 To Caerleil wente these good yemen, All in a mornyng of Maye. Here is a FYT 4 of Cloudeslye, And another is for to saye. PART THE SECOND. AND when they came to mery Carleile, All in ' the ' mornyng tyde, They founde the gates shut them untyll About on every syde. " Alas ! " then sayd good Adam Bell, 5 " That ever we were made men ! These gates be shut so wonderous fast, We may not come therein." Then bespake him Clym of the Clough, " Wyth a wyle we wyl us in bryng ; 10 Let us saye we be messengers, Streyght come no we from our king." Adam said, " I have a letter written, Now let us wysely werke, We wyl saye we have the kynges seale ; 15 I holde the porter no clerke." Then Adam Bell bete on the gate, With strokes great and strouge ; The porter marvelled who was therat, And to the gate he throng. i'O V. 197, jolly yeomen. MS. wight yong men, P.O. * See Gloss. VOL. I. ! 114 ADAM BELL, CLYM OF THE CLOUQH, " Who is there nowe," sayde the porter, " That maketh all thys knockinge ? " " We be tow messengers," quoth Clim of the (Jlough, " Be come ryght from our kyng." " We have a letter," sayd Adam Bel, 25 " To the justice we must it bryng ; Let us in, our message to do, That we ware agayne to the kyng." " Here commeth none in," sayd the porter, " By Hym that dyed on a tre, 30 Tyll a false thefe be hanged up, Called Wyllyam of Cloudesle." Then spake the good yeman Clym of the Clough, And swore by Mary fre, " And if that we stande long wythout, 35 Lyke a thefe hanged thou shalt be. " Lo ! here we have the kynges scale ; What, lurden, art thou wode ? " The porter went & it had ben so, And lyghtly dyd off hys hode. 40 " Welcome be my lordes scale," he saide ; " For that ye shall come in." He opened the gate full shortlye, An euyl openyug for him. " Now are we in," sayde Adam Bell, 45 " Whereof we are full faine, But Christ he knowes, that harowed hell, How we shall com out agayne." " Had we the keys," said Clim of the Clough, " Kyght wel then shoulde we spede ; 50 Then might we come out wel ynough When we se tyme and nede." V. 38, Lordeyne. P.O. 5 i. e. weened, thought (which last is the reading of the folio MS.). Calais or Rouen was taken from the English by showing the governor who could not read, a letter with the king's seal, which was all he looked at. AND WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLY. 115 They called the porter to counsell, And wrange hys necke in two, And caste hym in a depe dongeon, 55 And toke hys keys hym fro. " Now am I porter," sayd Adam Bel, " Se, brother, the keys are here ; The worst porter to merry Carleile, That ye had thys hundred yere. 60 " And now wyll we our bowes bend, Into the towne wyll we go, For to delyuer our dere brother, That lyeth in care and wo." Then they bent theyr good ewe bowes, 65 And loked theyr stringes were round ; 6 The markett place in mery Carleile They beset in that stound. And as they loked them besyde, A paire of new galowes ' they ' see, 70 And the justice with a quest of squyers, Had judged William hanged to be . And Cloudesle lay redy there in a carte, Fast bound both fote and hande, And a stronge rop about hys necke, 75 All ready e for to hange. The justice called to him a ladde, Cloudesles clothes hee shold have, To take the measure of that yeman, Therafter to make hys grave. 80 " I have sene as great mervaile," said Cloudesle, " As betweyne thys and pryme, He that maketh a grave for me, Hymselfe may lye therin." * So Ascham in his Toxophtius, gives A. precept ; " The stringe must I lounde " (p. 149, ed. 1761): otherwise, we may conclude from mechanica rinciples, the arrow will not fly true. i 2 116 ADAM BELL, CLTM OF THE CLOTJGH, " Thou speakest proudlye," said tlie justice, 85 " I shall the hange with my hande." Full wel herd this his brethren two, There styll as they dyd stande. Then Cloudesle cast hys eyen asyde, And saw hys ' brethren twaine ' 90 At a corner of the market place, Redy the justice for to slaiue. " I se comfort," sayd Cloudesle, " Yet hope I well to fare ; If I might have my handes at wyll, 1*5 Eyght lytle wolde I care." Then spake good Adam Bell To Clym of the Clough so free, " Brother, se ye marke the justyce wel, Lo yonder you may him se. 100 " And at the shyrife shote I wyll, Strongly wyth an arrowe kene ; A better shote in mery Carleile Thys seven yere was not sene." They loosed their arrowes both at once, 105 Of no man had they dread ; The one hyt the justice, the other the sheryfe, That both theyr sides gan blede. All men voyded, that them stode nye, When the justice fell to the grounde, 110 And the sherife nye hym by, Eyther had his deathes wounde. All the citizens fast gan flye, They durst no longer abyde ; There lyghtly they loosed Cloudeelee, 115 Where he with ropes lay tyde. Wyllyam start to an officer of the towne, Hys axe out of hys hande he wronge, On eche syde he smote them downe, Hee thought he taryed to long. 120 V. 105, lowsed thre. P.c. V. 108. can bled. MS. AND WILLIAM OF CLOUPESLY. 117 Wyllyam sayde to hys brethren two, " Thys daye let us ly ve and de ; If ever you have nede as I have now, The same shall you finde by me." They shot so well in that tyde, 125 For theyr stringes were of silke ful sure, That they kept the stretes on every side : That batayle did long eudure. The fought together as brethren tru, Lyke hardy men and bolde ; 130 Many a man to the ground they thruo, And many a herte made colde. But when their arrowes were all gon, Men preced to them full fast ; They drew theyr swordes then anone, 135 And theyr bowes from them they cast. They went lyghtlye on theyr way, Wyth swordes and buclers round ; By that it was myd of the day, They made many a wound. 140 There was many an out-home 7 in Carleil blowen, And the belles bacward dyd ryng ; Many a woman sayde alas ! And many theyr handes dyd wryng. The mayre of Carleile forth was com, 145 Wyth hym a ful great route ; These yemen dred hym full sore, Of theyr ly ves they stode in great doute. The mayre came armed a full great pace, With a pollaxe in hys hande ; 150 Many a strong man wyth him was, There in that stowre to stande. V. 148, For of. MS. 1 Outhorne is an old term, signifying the calling forth of subjects t arms by the sound of a horn. See Cole's Lat. Diet., Bailer, &c. 118 ADAM BKLL, CLYM OF THE CLOTJGH, The mayre smot at Cloudesle with his bil, Hys bucler he brast in two ; Full many a yeman with great evyll, 155 " Alas ! treason " they cryed for wo. " Kepe we the gates fast," they bad, " That these traytours thereout not go.'* But al for nought was that they wrought, For so fast they downe were layde, 160 Tyll they all thre, that so manfulli fought, Were gotten without at a braide. " Have here your keys," sayd Adam Bel, " Myne office .1 here forsake ; If you do by my counsell, 165 A new porter do ye make." He threw theyr keys at theyr heads, And bad them evell to thryve ; And all that letteth any good yeman To come and comfort his wyfe. 170 Thus be these good yemen gon to the wod, And lyghtly as lefe on lynde ; The lough and be mery in theyr mode, Theyr enemyes were ferr behynd. And when they came to Englyshe-wode, 175 Under the trrety tre, There they found bowes full good. And arrowes full great plentye. " So God me help," sayd Adam Bell And Clym of the Clough so fre, 1 80 " I would we were in mery Carleile, Before that fuyre meynye." They set them downe and made good chere, And eate and dranke full well : A second PYT of the wightye yeomen : ] 85 Another I wyll you tell. V. 175, merry green wood. MS. V. 185, See part i. TCT. 197. AND WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLY. 119 PART THE THIRD As they sat in Englyshe-wood, Under the greeu-wode tre, They thought they herd a woman wepe, But her they mought not se. Sore then syghed the fayre Alyce : 5 " That ever I sa\ve thys day ! For nowe is my dere husband slayne, Alas ! and \vel-a-way ! " Myght I have spoken wyth hys dere brethren, Or with eyther of them twayne, 10 To shew to them what him befell, My hart were out of payne." Cloudesle walked a lytle beside, He looked under the grene wood linde, He was ware of his wyfe, and chyldren thre, 15 Full wo in harte and mynde. " Welcome, wyfe," then sayde Wyllyam, " Under * this ' trusti tre ; I had wende yesterdaye, by swete Sayut John, Thou sholdest me never ' have ' se." 20 u Now well is me that ye be here, My harto is out of wo." " Dame," he sayde, " be mery and glad, And thanke my brethren two." " Herof to speake," said Adam Bell, 25 " I- .vis it is no bote ; The meate, that we must supp withall, It runneth yet fast on fote. Then went they downe into a launde, These noble archares all thre, 30 Eche of them slew a hart of greece, The best that they cold se. V. 20, never had se. P.O. and MS. 120 ADAM BELL, OLYM OF THE CLOUGH, " Have here the best, Alyce, my wyfe," Sayde Wyllyam of Cloudeslye ; " By cause ye so bouldly stode by me, 35 When I was slayne full nye." Then went they to suppere, Wyth suche meate as they had, And thanked God of ther fortune ; They were both mery and glad. 40 And when they had supped well, Certayne wythouten lease, Cloudesle sayd, " We wyll to our kyng, To get us a charter of peace. " Alyce shal be at sojournyng 45 In a nunnery here besyde ; My tow sonnes shall wyth her go, And ther they shall abyde. " Myne eldest pon shall go wyth me, For hym have ' you ' no care, 50 And he shall breng you worde agayn, How that we do fare." Thus be these yemen to London gone, As fast as they myght ' he,' 9 Tyll they came to the kynges pallace, 55 Where they woulde nedes be. And whan they came to the kynges courte, Unto the pallace gate, Of no man wold they aske no leave, But boldly went in therat. 60 They preced prestly into the hall, Of no man had they dreade ; The porter came after and dyd them call, And with them gan to chyde. V. 50, hare I no care. P.O. . e. hie, hasten. A1TO WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLT. 121 The usher sayde, " Yemen, what woid ye have ? 65 I pray you tell to me ; You myght thus make otfycers shent : Good Syrs, of whence be ye ? " " Syr, we be out-lawes of the forest, Certayne withouten lease, 70 And hether we be come to our kyng, To get us a charter of peace." And whan they came before the kyng, As it was the lawe of the lande, The kneled downe without lettyng, 75 And eche held up his hand. The sayed, " Lorde, we bt-seche the here, That ye wyll graunt us grace, For we have slayne your fat falow dere In many a sondry place." 80 " What be your nams ? " then said our king, " Anone that you tell me : " They sayd, " Adam Bell, Glim of the Clough, And Wyllyam of Cloudesle." " Be ye those theves," then sayd our kyng, 85 " That men have tolde of to me ? Here to God I make an avowe, Ye shal be hanged al thre. M Ye shal be dead without mercy, As I am kynge of this lande." 90 He commanded his officers everichone Fast on them to lay hande. There they toke these good yemen. And arested them al thre : " So may I thryve," sayd Adam Bell, 95 " Thys game lyketh not me. " But, good Lorde, we beseche you now, That yee graunt us grace. Insomuche as we do to you come, Or els that we may fro you passe, 100 122 ADAM BELL, CLTM OF THE CLOUGH, " With such weapons as we have here, Tyll we be out of your place ; And yf we lyve this hundreth yere, We wyll aske you no grace." " Ye speake proudly," sayd the kynge, 105 " Ye shall be hanged all thre." " That were great pitye," then sayd the quene, " If any grace myght be. " My Lorde, whan I came fyrst into this lande, To be your wedded wyfe, 110 The fyrst boone that I wold aske, Ye would graunt it me belyfe ; " And I never asked none tyll now, Therefore, good Lorde, graunt it me." "Now aske it, madam," sayd the kynge, 115 " And graunted it shal be." " Then, good my Lord, I you beseche, These yemen graunt ye me." " Madame, ye might have asked a boone That shuld have been worth them all thre. 120 " Ye myght have asked towres and townes, Parkes and forestes plente." " None soe pleasant to my pay," shee sayd ; " Nor none so lefe to me." " Madame, sith it is your desyre, 125 Your askyng graunted shal be ; But I had lever have given you Good market townes thre." Th qeuene was a glad woman, And sayde, " Lord, gramarcy ; 130 I dare undertake for them, That true men shal they be. 7. Ill, 119, sic MS., bowne. P.O. V. 130, God a mereye. MS. AND WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLT. 123 '* But, good my Lord, speke som mery word, That comfort they may se." " I graunt you grace," then sayd our king, 135 " Washe, felos, and to meate go ye." They had not setten but a whyle, Certayne without lesynge, There came messengers out of the north, With letters to our kynge. 14.0 And whan the came before the kynge, They knelt downe on theyr kne, And sayd, " Lord, your officers grete you well, Of Carleile in the north cuntre." ' How fareth my justice," sayd the kyng, 145 " And my sherife also ? " " Syr, they be slayne, without leasynge, And many an officer mo." " Who hath them slayne ? " sayd the kyng ; " Anone thou tell to me : " 150 " Adam Bell, and Clime of the Clough, And Wyllyam of Cloudesle.' " Alas for rewth ! " then sayd our kynge, " My hart is wonderous sore ; I had lever than a thousande pounde, 155 I had knowne of thys before. " For I have graunted them grace, And that forthynketh me, I Tit had I knowne all thys before, They had been hanged all thre." 160 The kyng hee opened the letter anone, Hymselfe he red it thro, And founde how these outlawes had slain Thre hundred men and mo. Fyrst the justice and the sheryfe, 165 And the mayre of Carleile towne ; Of all the constables and catchipolles Alyve were ' scant ' left one. V. 168, left but one. MS., not one. fjO. 124 ADAM BELL, CLYM OF THE CLOUGU. The baylyes and the bedyls both, And the sergeauntes of the law, 170 And forty fosters of the fe, These outlawes had yslaw, And broke his parks, and slayne his dere ; Of all they chose the best ; So perelous out-lawes as they were, 175 Walked not by easte nor west. When the kynge this letter had red, In hys harte he syghed sore ; " Take up the tables, anone," he bad, " For I may eat no more." 180 The kyng called hys best archars, To the buttes wyth hym to go ; " I wyll se these felowes shote," he sayd, " In the north have wrought this wo." The kynges bowmen buske them blyve, 185 And the quenes archers also, So dyd these thre wyghtye yemen, With them they thought to go. There twyse or thryse they shote about, For to assay theyr hande ; 190 There was no shote these yemen shot, That any prycke l myght stand. Then spake Wyllyam of Cloudesle, " By Him that for me dyed, I hold hym never no good archar, 195 That shoteth at buttes so wyde." " At what a butte now wold ye shote, I pray thee tell to me ? " " At suche a but, Syr," he sayd, As men use in my countre." 200 V. 185, blythe, MS. 1 ,'. e . mark. AXD WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLT. 12 \Vyllyam wente into a fyeld, And ' with him ' his two brethren : There they set up two hasell roddes, Full twenty score betwene. " I hold him an archar," said Cloudesle, 205 " That yonder wande cleveth in two ;" " Here is none suche," sayd the kyng, " Nor none that can so do." " I shall assaye, Syr," sayd Cloudesle, " Or that I farther go." 21C Cloudesly, with a bearyng arowe, Clave the wand in two. " Thou art the best archer," then said the king, " For sothe that ever I se." "And yet for your love," sayd Wyllyam, 215 " I wyll do more maystery." " I have a sonne is seven yere olde, He is to me full deare ; I wyll hym tye to a stake, All shall se that be here ; 220 " And lay an apple upon hys head, And go syxe score hym fro, And I my selfe. with a brode arow, Shall cleve the apple in two." "Now haste the," then sayd the kyng, 225 " By Hym that dyed on a tre ; But yf thou do not as thou hest sayde, Hanged shalt thou be. " And thou touche his head or gowne, In syght that men may se, :230 By all the sayntes that be in heaven, I shall hange you all thre." V. 202, 203, 212, to. P.O. V. 204, twenty scon Daces, p.c. i. e. 400 yards. V. 208, sic MS., none that can. P.O. V .'J'i ?ix-scorp paces. P.C., i. e. 120 yards. 126 ADAM BELL, CLTM OF THE CLOUGH, '' That I have promised," said William, " That I wyll never forsake :" And there even before the kynge, 235 In the earth he drove a stake, And bound tlierto his eldest sonne, And bad hym stand sty 11 thereat, And turned the childes face him fro, Because he should not start. 240 An apple upon his head he set, And then his bowe he bent ; Syxe score paces they were meaten, And thether Cloudesle went. There he drew out a fayr brode arrowe, 245 Hys bowe was great and longe, He set that arrowe in his bowe, That was both styffe and stronge. He prayed the people, that wer there, That they would still stand, 250 " For he that shoteth for such a wager, Behoveth a stedfast hand." Muche people prayed for Cloudesle, That hys lyfe saved myght bo, And whan he made hym redy to shote, 255 There was many weeping ee. ' But ' Cloudesle clefte the apple in two, As many a man myght se. " Over Gods forbode," sayde the kinge, " That thou shold shote at me. 260 " I geve thee eightene pence a day, And my bowe shalt thou bere, And over all the north countre, I make thee chyfe rydere." V. 243, sic MS., out met. P.O. V. 252, steedye. MS. V. 265, and I geve the xrii pence. P.a AKD WILLIAM OF CLOUDE8LT. 127 " And I thyrtene pence a day," said the quene, 205 " By God and by my fay ; Come feche thy payment when thou wylt, No man shall say the nay." " Wyllyam, I make the a gentleman, Of clothyng and of fe, 270 And thy two brethren, yemen of my chambre, For they are so semely to se. " Your sonne, for he is tendre of age, Of my wyne-seller he shall be, And when he commeth to mans estate, 275 Better avaunced shall he be." " And, Wyllyam, bring to me your wife," said the " Me longeth her sore to se ; [quene. She shall be my chefe gentlewoman, To governe my nurserye." 280 The yemen thanked them full curteously, " To some byshop wyl we wend, Of all the synnes that we have done To be assoyld at his hand." So forth be gone these good yemen, 285 As fast as they might ' he ;' 2 And after came and dwelled with the kynge, And dyed good men all thre. Thus endeth the lives of these good yemen, God send them eternall blysse, 290 And all that with a hand-bowe shoteth, That of heven they may never mysse. Amen. V. 282, And sayd to some Bishopp wee will wend. US. * he, i. e. hie, hasten. See the Glossary. 128 THE AGED LOVES II. figrt) 3LobtT rniouncctf) Eobt. The Grave-digger's song in Hamlet, act v., is taken from three stanzas of the following poem, though grt-atly altered and disguised, as the same were corrupted by the ballad- singers of Shakspeare's time; or perhaps so designed by the poet himself, the better to paint the cha- racter of an illiterate clown. The original is preserved among Surrey's Poems, and is attributed to Lord Vaux, by George Gascoigne, who tells us, it " was thought by some to be made upon his death-bed ;" a popular error which he laughs at. (See his Epist. to Yong Gent, pre- fixed to his Posies, 1575, 4to.) It is also ascribed to Lord Vaux in a manuscript copy preserved in the British Museum. 1 This lord was remarkable for his skill in drawing feigned manners, &c., for so I understand an ancient writer. " The Lord Vaux his commendation lyeth chiefly in the facilitiof his meetre, and the aptnesse of his de- scriptions such as he taketh upon him to make, namely in sundry of his Songs, wherein he showeth the counterfait action very lively and pleasantly." Arte of Eng. Poetic, 1589, p. 51. See another song by this poet in vol. ii. no. viii. I LOTHE that I did love, In youth that I thought swete, As time requires : for my behove Me thinkes they are not mete. My lustes they do me leave, 5 My fansies all are fled ; And tract of time begins to weave Gray heares upon my hed. For Age with steling steps Hath clawde me with his crowch, 10 And lusty ' Youthe ' away he leapes, As there had bene none such. My muse doth not delight Me, as she did before ; My hand and pen are not in plight, 15 As they have bene of yore. Ver. 6, be. P.O. [printed copy in 1557.] V. 10, croxch perhaps should be clouch, cluch, grasp. V. 11, life away she. p.c. 1 Harl. M5S. num. 1703, 25. The readings gathered from that copy are distinguished here by inverted commas. The text is printed from th( "Songs, &c., of the Earl of Surrey and others, 1557, 4to." EBNOUNCKTH LOVS. 129 For Reason me denies ' All ' youthly idle rime ; And day by day to me she cries, " Leave off these toyes in tyme." 20 The wrinkles in my brow, The furrowes in my face Say, " Limping Age will ' lodge ' him now Where Youth must geve him place." The harbenger of death, 25 To me I se him ride : The cough, the cold, the gasping breath Doth bid me to provide A pikeax and a spade, And eke a shrowding shete, * 30 A house of clay for to bo made For such a guest most mete. Me thinkes I hear the clarke That knoles the careful knell, And bids me leave my ' wearye ' warke, 35 Ere Nature me compell. My kepers 2 knit the knot, That Youth doth laugh to scorne, Of me that ' shall bee cleane ' forgot, As I had ' ne'er ' been borne. 40 Thus must I Youth geve up, Whose badge I long did weare ; To them I yelde the wanton cup, That better may it beare. Lo here the bared skull, 45 By whose bald signe I know, That stouping Age away shall pull ' What ' youthful yeres did sow. V. 18, this. P.O. V. 23, sic ed. 1583 ; 'tis hedge in ed. 1557. hath caught him. MS. V. 30, wyndynge-sheete. MS. V. 34, bell. MS. V. 35, wofull. P.O. V. 38, did. P.O. V. 39, clene shal be. P.O. V. 40, not. P.O. V. 45, bare-hedde. MS. ind ome P.CC. V. 48, Which. P.O., That. MS. What is conject. * Alluding perhaps to Eccles. xu. 3. VOL. I. K 130 JKPHTHAH JtTDGE OF ISRAEL. For Beautie with her band These croked cares had wrought, 50 And shipped me into the lande, From whence I first was brought. And ye that bide behinde, Have ye none other trust ; As ye of claye were cast by kinde, 55 So shall ye ' turne ' to dust. V. 56, wast. P.O. III. of In Shakspeare's Hamlet, act ii. sc. 7, the hero of the Play takes occasion to banter Polonius with some scraps of an old ballad, which has never appeared yet in any collection ; for which reason, as it is but short, it will not perhaps be unacceptable to the reader : who will also be diverted with the pleasant absurdities of the composition. It was retrieved from utter oblivion by a lady, who wrote it down from memory as she had formerly heard it sung by her father. I am indebted for it to the friendship of Mr Steevens. It has been said that the original ballad, in black-letter, is among Anthony a Wood's collection, in the Ashmolean Museum. But, upon application lately made, the volume which contained the song was missing, so that it can only now be given as in the former edition. The banter of Hamlet is as follows : " Hamlet. ' Jephtha, Judge of Israel,' what a treasure hadst thou ! Polonius. What a treasure had he, my lord ? Ham. Why, ' One faire daughter, and no more, The which he loved passing well.' Pol. Still on my daughter. Ham. Am not I i' th' right, old Jephtha ? Pol. If you call me Jephtha, my lord ; I have a daughter, that I love passing well. Ham. Nay, that follows not. Pol. What follows then, my lord ? Ham. Why, ' As by lot, God wot ;' and then, you know, ' It came to passe, As most like it was.' The first row of the pious chanson will shew you more." Edit. 1793, vol. xv. p. 133. JEPHTHAH JTJJ>GB OF ISRAEL. 131 HAVE you not heard these many years ago, Jeptha was judge of Israel? He had one only daughter and no mo, The which he loved passing well. And as by lott, 5 God wot, It so came to pass, As Gods will was, That great wars there should be, And none should be chosen chief but he. 10 And when he was appointed judge, And chieftain of the company, A solemn vow to God he made, If he returned with victory, At his return, 15 To burn The first live thing, ***** That should meet with him then, Off his house when he should return agen. 20 It came to pass, the wars was o'er, And he returnd with victory ; His dear and only daughter first of all Came to meet her father foremostly : And all the way 25 She did play On tabret and pipe, Full many a stripe, With note so high, For joy that her father is come so nigh. 30 But when he saw his daughter dear Coming on most foremostly, He wrung his hands, and tore his hair, And cryed out most piteously : " Oh ! its thou," said he, " That have brought me Low, And troubled me so, That I know not what to do. 132 A BOBYN, JOLLY ROBYN u For I have made a vow," he sed, " The which must be replenished ;" 40 * * * * " What thou hast spoke Do not revoke, What thou hast said.; Be not afraid ; 45 Altho' it be I, Keep promises to God on high. " But, dear father, grant me one request, That I may go to the wilderness, Three months there with my friends to stay ; 50 There to bewail my virginity ; And let there be," Said she, " Some two or three Young maids with me." 55 So he sent her away, For to mourn, for to mourn, till her dying day. IV. In his Twelfth Night, Sbakspeare introduces the Clown singing part of the two first stanzas of the following song, which has been recovered from an ancient MS. of Dr. Harrington's, at Bath, preserved among the many literary treasures transmitted to the ingenious and worthy possessor by a long line of most respectable ancestors. Of these, only a small part hath been printed in the Nugm Antiqux, 3 vols. 12mo ; n work which the public impatiently wishes to see continued. The song is thus given by Shakspeare, act iv. sc. 2 (Malone'a edit iv. 93). " Clown. Hey Robin, jolly Robin [singing"], Tell me how thy lady does. Malvolio. Fool Clown. My lady is unkind, perdy. Mai. Fool Clown. Alas ! why is she so ? Mai. Fool, I say Clown She loves another. Who calls, ha ? " A EOBYN, JOLLY EOBYN. 133 Dr. Farmer has conjectured that the song should begin thus : " Hey, jolly Robin, tell to me How does thy lady do ? My lady is unkind, perdy, Alas ! why is she so ? " But this emendation is now superseded by the proper readings of the old eong itself, which is here printed from what appears the most ancient of Dr. Harrington's poetical MSS., and which has, therefore, been marked No. I. (eeil. p. 68). That volume seems to have been written in the reign of King Henry VIII., and as it contains many of the poems of Sir Thomas Wyat, hath had almost all the contents attributed to him by marginal directions, written with an old but later hand, and not always rightly, as, I think, might be made appear by other good authorities. Among the rest, this song is there attributed to Sir Thomas Wyat also ; but the discerning reader will probably judge it to belong to a more obsolete writer. In the old MS. to the third and fifth stanzas is prefixed this title, Responce; and to the fourth and sixth, Le Plaintif : but in the last instance so evidently wrong, that it was thought better to omit these titles, and to mark the changes of the dialogue by inverted commas. In other respects the MS. is strictly followed, except where noted in the margin. Yet the first stanza appears to be defective, and it should seem that a line is wanting, unless the four first words were lengthened in the tune. A Robyn, Jolly Robyn, Tell me how thy leman doeth, And thou shalt knowe of myn. u My lady is unkynde, perde." 5 Alack 1 why is she so ? " She loveth an other better than me ; And yet she will say no." I fynde no such doublenes ; I fynde women true ; 10 My lady loveth me dowtles, And will change for no newe. " Thou art happy while that doeth last : But I say, as I fynde, That women's love is but a blast, 15 And torneth with the wynde." Ver. 4, shall. MS. 134 A SONG TO THE LUTE IN MUSICKE. Suche folkes can take no harme by love, That can abide their torn. "But I alas can no way prove In love, but lake and morne." 20 But if thou wilt avoyde thy harme, Lerne this lessen of me : At others fieres thy selfe to wanne, And let them warme with the. V. & &0ng; te tije Hutc tn This sonnet (which is ascribed to Richard Edwards ' in the " Paradise of Daintie Devises,'' fo. 31, b.) is by Shakspeare made the subject of some pleasant ridicule in his Borneo and Juliet, act iv. sc. 5, where he introduces Peter putting this question to the Musicians : "Peter .... Why ' Silver Sound ? ' why ' Musieke with her silver sound ?' what say you, Simon Catling ? 1st. Musician. Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound. Pet. Pretty ! what say you, Hugh Rebecke ? 2nd. Mus. I say, silver sound, because Musicians sound for silver. Pet. Pretty too ! what say you, James Sound-post. 3rd. Mus. Faith, I know not what to say. Pet. ... I will say for you : It is ' Musicke with her silver sound,' because Musicians have no gold for sounding." Edit. 1793, vol. xiv. p. 529. This ridicule is not so much levelled at the song itself (which for tho time it was written is not inelegant), as at those forced and unnatural explanations often given us by painful editors and expositors of ancient authors. This copy is printed from an old quarto MS. in the Cotton Library [Vesp. A 25], entitled " Divers things of Hen. viij's time :" with some corrections from The Paralise of Dainty Devises, 1596. WHERE gripinge grefes the hart would wounde, And dolefulle dumps the mynde oppresse, There musicke with her silver-sound With spede is wont to send redresse : Of trobled mynds, in every sore, g Swete musicke hath a salve in store. 1 Se Wood's Athen., Tanner's Biblioth., and Hawkins' Hist, of Music. KING COPHETUA AND THE BKGGAB-MAID. 135 In joye yt maks our mirthe abonnde, In woe yt cheres our hevy sprites ; Be-strawghted heads relyef hath founde, By musickes pleasaunt swete delightes : 10 Our senses all, what shall I say more ? Are subjecte unto mus.cks lore. The Gods by musicke have theire prayse ; The lyfe, the soul therein doth joye ; For, as the Eomayne poet sayes, 15 In seas, whom pyrats would destroy, A dolphin saved from death most sharpe Arion playing on his harpe. O heavenly gyft, that rules the mynd, Even as the sterne dothe rule the shippe ! 20 musicke, whom the Gods assinde To comforte manne, whom cares would nippe ! Since thow both man and beste doest move, What beste ys he, wyll the disprove ? VI. Cophetua anfc the is a story often alluded to by our old dramatic writers. Shakspeare it liis Borneo and Juliet, act ii. sc. 1, makes Mercutio say, " Her [Venus's] purblind son and heir, Young Adam ' Cupid, he that shot so true, When King Cophetua loved the beggar-maid." As the 13th line of the following ballad seems here particularly alluded to, it is not improbable but Shakspeare wrote it shot so trim, which the players or printers, not perceiving the allusion, might alter to true. The former, as being the more humorous expression, seems most likely to have come from the mouth of Mercutio. 2 In the 2nd Part of Hen. IV. act v. sc. 3, Falstaff is introduced i.ffeeteilly saying to Pistoll, " base Assyrian knight, what is thy news ? Let king Cophetua know the truth thereof." 1 See above, preface to Song i. Book ii. of this vol. p. 106, 107. * Since this conjecture was first made, it has been discover jd that shot :o trim was the genuine reading. See Shakspeare, edit. 1793, xiv. 39'3. 136 KING COPHETUA AND These linps Dr. Warburton thinks were taken from an old bombast play of King Cophetua. No such play is, I believe, now to be found ; but it does not therefore follow that it never existed. Many dramatic, pieces arr referred to by old writers, which are not now extant, or even mentioned in any list. 3 In the infancy of the stage, plays were often exhibited that were never printed. It is probably in allusion to the same play, that Ben Jonson says in his Comedy of Every Man in his Humour, act iii. sc. 4: " I have not the heart to devour thee, an' I might be made as rich as King Cophetua." At least there is no mention of King Cophetua's riches in the present ballad, which is the oldest I have met with on the subject. It is printed from Rich. Johnson's Crown Garland of Goulden Rosct. 1612, 12mo (where it is entitled simply, A Song of a Beggar and a King) : corrected by another copy. I BEAD that once in Affrica A princely wight did raine, Who had to name Cophetua, As poets they did faine. From natures lawes he did decline, 5 For sure he was not of my minde, He cared not for women-kind, But did them all disdaine. But marke what hapned on a day ; As he out of his window lay, 1C He saw a beggar all in gray, The which did cause his paine. The blinded boy that shootes so trim From heaven downe did hie, He drew a dart and shot at him, 15 In place where he did lye : Which soone did pierse him to the quicke, And when he felt the arrow pricke, Which in his tender heart did sticke, He looketh as he would dye. 20 " What sudden chance is this," quoth he, " That I to love must subject be, Which never thereto would agree, But still did it dene?" See Mere's Wits Treas. fol. 283. Arte of Eng. Poes. 1589. pp. 51 111, 143, 169. THE BKGGAE-MAID. 137 Then from the window he did come, 25 And laid him on his bed ; A thousand heapes of care did runne Within his troubled head. For now he meanes to crave her love, And now he seekes which way to proove 30 How he his fancie might remoove, And not this beggar wed. But Cupid had him so in snare, That this poor begger must prepare A salve to cure him of his care, 35 Or els he would be dead. And as he musing thus did lye, He thought for to devise How he might have her companye, That so did 'maze his eyes. 40 " In thee," quoth he, " doth rest my life ; For surely thou shalt be my wife, Or else this hand with bloody knife, The Gods shall sure suffice." Then from his bed he soon arose, 45 And to his pallace gate he goes ; Full little then this begger knowes When she the king espies. " The gods preserve your majesty," The beggers all gan cry ; 50 " Vouchsafe to give your charity, Our childrens food to buy." The king to them his purse did cast, And they to part it made great haste ; This silly woman was the last 55 That after them did hye. The king he cal'd her back againe, And unto her he gave his chaine ; And said, " With us you shal remaino Till such time as we dye. 60 For thou," quoth he, " shalt be my wife, And honoured for my queene ; 138 KING CiOPHETUA AND TH BEGGAE-MAID. With thee I meane to lead my life, As shortly shall be scene : Our wedding shall appointed be, 65 And every thing in its degree ; Come on," quoth he, " and follow me, Thou shalt go shift thee cleane. What is thy name, faire maid ? " quoth he. " Penelophon, 4 King," quoth she ; 70 With that she made a lowe courtsey ; A trim one as I weeno. Thus hand in hand along they walke Unto the king's pallace : The king with courteous, comly talke 75 This begger doth embrace. The begger blusheth scarlet red, And straight againe as pale as lead, But not a word at all she said, She was in such amaze. 80 At last she spake with trembling voyce, And said, " O King, I doe rejoyce That you wil take me for your choyce, And my degree so base." And when the wedding day was come, 85 The king commanded strait The noblemen, both all and some, Upon the queene to wait. And she behaved herself that day As if she had never walkt the way ; 90 She had forgot her gowne of gray, Which she did weare of late. The proverbe old is come to passe, The priest, when he begins his masse, Forgets that ever clerke he was ; 95 He knowth not his estate. Ver. 90, f. e. tramped the streets. 4 Shakespeare (who alludes to this ballad in his Love's Labour Lost, act iv. sc. 1) gives the Beggar's name Zenelophon, according to all the old editions : but this seems to be a corruption ; for Penelophon, in the text, sounds more like the name of a woman. The story of the King and the Beggar is also alluded to in King Rich. II. act. v. sc. 3. TAKE THT OLD CLOAK ABOUT THSE. 13 Here you may read Cophetaa. Through long time fancie-fed, Compelled by the blinded boy The begger for to wed : IOC He that did lovers lookes disdaine, To do the same was glad and faine, Or else he would himselfe have slaine, In storie, as we read. Disdaine no whit, O lady deere, 105 But pitty now thy servant heere, Least that it hap to thee this yeare, As to that king it did. And thus they led a quiet life During their princely raine, 110 And in a tombe were buried both, As writers sheweth plaine. The lords they tooke it grievously, The ladies tooke it heavily, The commons cryed pitiously, 115 Their death to them was paine. Their fame did sound so passingly, That it did pierce the starry sky, And throughout all the world did flye To every princes realme. 5 120 V. 105, Here the poef, addresses himself to his mistress. V. 112, sheweth was anoiently the plur. numb. A ingenious friend thinks the two last stanzas should change place. VII. Cafe* tf)i) ft Cloafc about C^ee is supposed to have been originally a Scottish ballad. The reader here has an ancient copy in the English idiom, with an additional stanza (the 2d) never before printed. This curiosity is preserved in the Editor's folio MS., but not without corruptions, which are here removed by the assistance of the Scottish edit. Shakspeare in his Othello, act ii., has quoted one stanza, with some variations, whick are here adopted : the old MS. readings are however given in the margin. 140 TAKE THY OLD CLOAK A'BOTTT THEE. THIS winters weather itt waxeth cold, And frost doth freese on every hill, And Boreas blowes his blasts soe bold That all our cattell are like to spill. Bell my wife, who loves noe strife, 5 She sayd unto me quietlye, " Rise up, and save cow Crumbockes liffe, Man, put thine old cloake about thee." HE. " O Bell, why dost thou flyte ' and scorne ? ' Thou kenst my cloake is very thin ; 10 Itt is soe bare and overworne, A cricke he theron cannot runn : Then He noe longer borrowe nor lend, ' For once lie new appareld bee, To-morrow lie to towne and spend,' 15 For He have a new cloake about mee." SHE. " Cow Crumbocke is a very good cowe, She ha beene alwayes true to the payle, Shee has helpt us to butter and cheese, I trow, And other things shee will not fayle ; 20 I wold be loth to see her pine ; Good husband, councell take of mee, It is not for us to go soe fine, Man, take thine old cloake about thee." HE. " My cloake it was a verry good cloake, 25 Itt hath been alwayes true to the weare, But now it is not worth a groat, I have had it four and forty yeere ; Sometime itt was of cloth in graine, 'Tis now but a sigh clout as you may see ; 30 It will neither hold out winde nor raine ; And He have a new cloake about mee." TAKE THY OLD CLOAK ABOUT THEE. 141 SHE. " It is four and fortye yeeres agoe Since the one of us the other did ken, And we have had betwixt us towe, 35 Of children either nine or ten ; Wee have brought them up to women and men In the feare of God I trow they bee ; And why wilt thou thyself misken ? Man, take thine old cloake about thee." 40 HE. " Bell my wifFe, why dost thou floute ! Now is no we, and then was then ; Seeke now all the world throughout, Thou kenst not clownes from gentlemen ; They are clad in blacke, greene, yellowe, or ' gray,' Soe far above their owne degree ; 46 Once in my life He ' doe as they,' For He have a new cloake about mee." SHE. " King Stephen was a worthy peere, His breeches cost him but a crowne ; 50 He held them sixpence all too deere ; Therefore he calld the taylor Lowno. He was a wight of high renowne, And thouse but of a low degree ; Itt's pride that putts the countrye downe ; 55 Then take thine old cloake about thee." HE. ' Bell my wife she loves not strife, Yet she will lead me if she can ; And oft, to live a quiet life, I am forced to yield, though Ime good-man.' 60 Ver. 49, King Harry ... a very good king. MS. V. 50, I trow his hose cost but. MS. V. 51, He thought them I2d. too deere. MS. V. 52, clowne. MS. V. 53, He was king and wore the crowne. MS. 142 WILLOW, WILLOW, WILLOW. Itt's not for a man with a woman to tlireape, Unlesse he first give oer the plea ; As wee began wee now mun leave, And He take mine old cloake about mee. VIII. Mfltofo, TOlIofo, It is from the following stanzas that Shakspeare has taken his song of the Willow, in his Othello, act iv. sc. 3, though somewhat varied, and applied by him to a female character. He makes Desdemona introduce it in this pathetic and affecting manner : " My mother had a maid call'd Barbara: She was in love ; and he she lov'd prov'd mad, And did forsake her. She had a song of Willow. An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune ; And she dyed singing it." Ed. 1793, vol. xv. p. 613. This is given from a black-letter copy in the Pepys Collection, thus entitled, " A Lovers Complaint, being forsaken of his Loae. To a pleasant tune." A POOKE soule sat sighing under a sicamore tree ; O willow, willow, willow ! With his hand on his bosom, his head on his knee : willow, willow, willow 1 O willow, willow, willow! 5 Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland. He sigh'd in his singing, and after each grone, Come willow, &c. " I am dead to all pleasure, my true-love is gone. O willow, &c. 10 Sing, the greene willow shall be my garland. " My love she is turned ; untrue she doth prove ; O willow, &c. She renders me nothing but hate for my love. O willow, &c. 15 Sing, O the greene willow, &c. WILLOW, WILLOW, WILLOW. 143 * O pitty me " (cried he), " ye lovers, each one ; O willow, &c. Her heart's hard as marble ; she rues not my mono. willow, &c. 20 Sing, O the greene willow, &c." The cold streams ran by him, his eyes wept apace , willow, &c. The salt tears fell from him, which drowned his face. O willow, &c. 25 Sing, O the greene willow, &c. The mute birds sate by him, made tame by his mones ; O willow, &c. The salt tears fell from him, which softened the stones. willow, &c. 30 Sing, the greene willow shall be my garland ! " Let nobody blame me, her scornes I do prove ; O willow, &c. She was borne to be faire ; I, to die for her love. willow, &c. . 35 Sing, O the greene willow, &c. " that beauty should harbour a heart that's so hard ! Sing willow, &c. My true love rejecting without all regard. willow, &c. 40 Sing, O the greene willow, &c. " Let love no more boast him in palace, or bower ; O willow, &c. For women are trothles, and flote in an houre. O willow, &c. 45 Sing, the greene willow, &c. u But what helps complaining ? In vaine I complaine : O willow, &c. I must patiently suffer her scorne and disdaine. willowe, &c. 50 Sing, O the greene willow, &c. 144 WILLOW, WILLOW, WILLOW. " Come, all you forsaken, and sit down by me, willow, &c. He that 'plaines of his false love, mine's falser than she. willow, &c. 55 Sing, the greene willow, &c. " The willow wreath weare I, since my love did fleet ; willow, &c, A garland for lovers forsaken most meete. O willow, &c. 60 Sing, the greene willow shall be my garland ! " PAKT THE SECOND. " LOWE lay'd by my sorrow, begot by disdaine, willow, willow, willow ! Against her too cruell, still, still I complaine. O willow, willow, willow ! willow, willow, willow ! 5 Sing, the greene willow shall be my garland ! " love too injurious, to wound my poore heart, O willow, &c. To suffer the triumph, and joy in my smart ! willow, &c. 10 Sing, the greene willow, &c. " willow, willow, willow ! the willow garland, O willow, &c. A sign of her falsenesse before me doth stand. O willow, &c. 15 Sing, the greene willow shall be my garland. " As here it doth bid to despair and to dye, willow, &c. So hang it, friends, ore me in grave where I lye. willow, &c. 20 Sing, the greene willow, &c. " In grave where I rest mee, hang this to the view, willow, &c. Of all that doe knowe her, to blaze her untrue. O willow, &c. 25 Sing, the greene willow, &c. WILLOW, WILLOW, WILLOW. 145 " With these words engraven, as epitaph meet, willow, &c. ' Here lyes one. drank poyson for potion most sweet ' willow, &c. 30 Sing, the greene willow, &c. " Though she thus unkindly hath scorned my love, O willow, &c. And carelesly smiles at the sorrowes I prove; O willow, &c. 35 Sing, the greene willow, &c. " I cannot against her unkindly exclaim, O willow, &c. Cause once well I loved her, and honoured her name. willow, &c. 40 Sing, the greene willow shall be my garland. " The name of her sounded so sweete in mine ea.re, O willow, &c. It rays'd my heart lightly, the name of my deare ; willow, &c. 45 Sing, the greene willow, &c. " As then 'twas my comfort, it now is my griefe ; O willow, &c. It now brings me anguish ; then brought me reliefe. willow, &c. 5 ) Sing, the greene willow, &c. " Farewell, faire false-hearted, plaints end with my breath O willow, willow, willow ! Thou dost loath me, I love thee, though cause of my death. willow, willow, willow ! 55 willow, willow, willow ! Sing, the greene willow shall be my garland." VOL I. 146 SIR LANCELOT DTJ LAKH. IX. Jj>ir Lancelot "On Hake. 1 This ballad is quoted in Shakspeare's Second Part of Henry IV. act ii. sc. 4. The subject of it is taken from the ancient romance of King Arthur (commonly called Morte Arthur), being a poetical translation of chap, cviii. fix. ex. in Part 1st, as they stand in ed. 1 034, 4to. In the older editions the chapters are differently numbered. This song is given from a printed copy, corrected in part by folio MS. In the same Play of 2 Henry IV., Silence hums a scrap of one of the old ballads of Robin Hood. It is taken from the following stanza of Robin Hood and the Pindar of Wakefield. " All this beheard three wighty yeomen, 'Twas Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John : With that they espyd the jolly Pindir As he sate ulider a thorne." That ballad may be found on every stall, and therefore is not here reprinted. WHEN Arthur first in court began, And was approved king, By force of armes great victorys wonne, And conquest home did bring ; Then into England straight he came 5 With fifty good and able Knights that resorted unto him, And were of the Round Table. And many justs and turnaments Wherto were manyprest, 10 Wherein some knights did fair excell, And eke surmount the rest. But one Sir Lancelot du Lake, Who was approved well, He for his deeds and feates of armes 15 All others did excell. 1 The folio MS. copy of this ballad is so mutilated that we owe mow lhan half t le present version to the ingenuity of Percy. Editor. SIB LANCELOT DU LAKK. 14? When he had rested him a while, In play, and game, and sportt, He said no wold goe prove himselfe, In some adventurous sort. 20 He armed rode in forrest wide, And met a damsell faire, Who told him of adventures great, Whereto he gave good eare. " Why shold I not ? " quoth Lancelott the, 25 ' For that cause came I hither." " Thou seemst," quoth she, "a knight full good," And I will bring thee thither, " Wheras a mighty knight doth dwell, That now is of great fame ; 30 Therfore tell me what knight thou art, And what may be thy name." " My name is Lancelot du Lake." Quoth she, " It likes me than ; Here dwelles a knight who never was 35 Yet matcht with any man ; " Who has in prison threescore knights And four, that he did wound ; Knights of King Arthurs court they be, And of his Table Round." 40 She brought him to a river side, And also to a tree, Whereon a copper bason hung, And many shields to see. He struck soe hard, the bason broke : 45 And Tarquin soon he spyed : Who drove a horse before him fast, Whereon a knight lay tyed. Ver. 18, to sportt. MS. Ver. 29, where is often use- 1 , by our i\\ writers for wheceas: here it is just the contrary. L 2 148 am LANCELOT DU LAKE. " Sir Knight," then sayd Sir Lancelbtt, " Bring me that horse-load hither, 50 And lay him downe, and let him rest ; Weel try our force together. " For, as I understand, thou hast, Soe far as thou art able, Done great despite and shame nnto 55 The knights of the Bound Table." " If thou be of the Table Bound," Quoth Tarquin, speedilye, " Both thee and all thy fellowship I utterly defye." 60 " That's over much," quoth Lancelott tho, " Defend thee by and by." They sett their speares unto their steeds, And each att other flye. They coucht their speares, (their horses ran, 65 As though there had been thunder) ; And strucke them each immidst their shields, Wherewith they broke in sunder. Their horsses backes brake under them, The knights were both astound ; 70 To avoyd their horsses they made great haste, And light upon the ground. They tooke them to their shields full fast, Their swords they drew out than ; With mighty strokes most eagerlye 75 Each at the other ran. They wounded were, and bled full sore, They both for breath did stand, And leaning on their swordes awhile, Quoth Tarquine, " Hold thy hand, 80 " And tell to me what I shall aske ; " " Say on," quoth Lancelot tho. " Thou art," quoth Tarquine, " the best knight That ever I did know ; SIB LANCELOT DU LAKE. And like a knight that I did hate ; 85 Soe that thou be not hee, I will deliver all the rest, And eke accord with thee." " That is well sayd," quoth Lancelott tho, " But sith it must be soe, 90 What knight is that thou hatest thus ? I pray thee to me show." " His name is Lancelot du Lake, He slew my brother deere ; Him I suspect of all the rest : 35 I would I had him here." " Thy wish thou hast, but yet unknowne ; I am Lancelot du Lake, Now knight of Arthurs Table Round ; King Hauds son of Schuwake ; 100 " And I desire thee do thy worst." " Ho, ho," quoth Tarquin tho, " One of us two shall end our lives, Before that we do go. " If thou be Lancelot du Lake 105 Then welcome shalt thou bee ; Wherfore see thou thyself defend, For now defye I thee." They buckled then together so, Like unto wild boares rashing, 2 11C And with their swords and shields they ran At one another slashing. 1 Hashing seems * be the old hunting term to express the stroke made by the wild-boar with his fangs. To rase has apparently a meaning some- thing similar. See Mr. Steevens' Note to King Lear, act iii. sc. 7 (ed. 1793, vol. xiv. p. 193), where the quartos read, " Nor thy fierce sister In his anointed flesh rash bearish fangs." So in King Richard III., act iii. sc. 2 (vol. x., pp. 567, 583), " He dreamt To-night the boar had rased off his helm." 150 CORYDON'S FAREWELL TO PHILLIS. The ground besprinkled was with blood, Tarquin began to yield ; For he gave backe for wearinesse, 115 And lowe did bearc his shield. This soone Sir Lancelot espyde, He leapt upon him then, He pull'd him downe upon his knee, And rushing off his helm, 120 Forthwith he strucke his necke in two ; And when he had soe done, From prison, threescore knights and four Delivered everye one. X. Corptfon's dFartforil to is an attempt to paint a lover's irresolution, but so poorfy executed, that it would not have been admitted into this collection, if it had not been quoted in Shakspeare's Twelfth Night, act ii. sc. 3. It is found in a little ancient miscellany, entitled The Golden Garland of Prirtcelg Delights, 12mo, bl. let. In the same scene of the Twelfth Night, Sir Toby sings a scrap of nn old ballad, which is preserved in the Pepys Collection (vol. i. pp. 33, 496), but as it is not only a poor dull performance, but also very long, it will be sufficient here to give the first stanza : THE BALLAD OF CONSTANT SUSANNA. " There dwelt a man in Babylon Of reputation great by fame ; He took to wife a faire woman, Susanna she was callde by name: A woman fair and vertuous : Lady, Lady : Why should we not of her learn thus To live godly ? " If this song of Corydon, &c., has not more merit, it is at least an evil of less magnitude. GtfUNUTUS THE JEW OF VENICE. 151 FAREWELL, dear love ; since thou wilt needs be gone, Mine eyes do shew, ray life is almost done. Nay I will never die, so long as I can spie There be many mo, though that she doe goe, There be many mo, I fear not : 5 Why then let her goe, I care not. Farewell, farewell ; since this I find is true, I will not spend more time in wooing you ; But I will seek elsewhere, if I may find love there. Shall I bid her goe ? what and if I doe ? 10 Shall I bid her goe and spare not ? no, no, no, I dare not. Ten thousand times farewell ; yet stay a while : Sweet, kiss me once ; sweet kisses time beguile. I have no power to move. How now am I in love ? Wilt thou needs be gone ? Go then, all is one. 16 Wilt thou needs be gone ? Oh, hie thee ! Nay stay, and do no more deny me. Once more adieu, I see loath to depart Bids oft adieu to her, that holds my heart. 20 But seeing I must lose thy love, which I did choose, Goe thy way for me, since that may not be. Goe thy ways for me. But whither ? Goe, oh, but where I may come thither. What shall I doe ? my love is now departed. 25 She is as fair, as she is cruel-hearted. She would not be intreated, with prayers oft repeated : If she come no more, shall I die therefore ? If she come no more, what care I ? Faith, let her goe, or come, or tarry. 30 XL of TJenfce. In Ihe Life of Pope Sixtus retranslated from the Italian of Greg. Leti, by the Rev. Mr. Farneworth, folio is a remarkable passage to ll.e following effect : 152 GERNTJTTJS THE JEW OF VENICE. " It was reported in Eome, that Drake had taken and plundered St. Domingo in Hispaniola, and carried off an immense booty. This account came in a private letter to Paul Secchi, a very considerable merchant in the city, who had large concerns in those p- 2 ( 180 ) BOOK III. I. Cl)e more iHotimi Sallatt of Ctycbo Cfjace* AT the beginning of this volume we gave the old original song of CHEVY-CHASE. The reader has here the more improved edition of that fine heroic ballad. It will afford an agreeable entertainment to the curious to compare them together, and to see how far the latter bard has excelled his predecessor, and where he has fallen short of him. For though he has everywhere improved the versification, and generally the sentiment and diction, yet some few passages retain more dignity in the ancient copy; at least the obsoleteness of the style serves as a veil to hide whatever might appear too familiar or vulgar in them. Thus, for instance, the catastrophe of the gallant Witherington is in the modern copy expressed in terms which never fail at present to excite ridicule, whereas in the original it is related with a plain and pathetic simplicity that is liable to no such unlucky effect. See the stanza in page 10, which in modern orthography, &c., would run thus : " For Witherington my heart is woe, That ever he slain should be : For when his legs were hewn in two, He knelt and fought on his knee," So again, the stanza which describes the fall of Montgomery is some- what more elevated in the ancient copy : " The dint it was both sad and sore, He on Montgomery set : The swan-feathers his arrow bore With his heart's blood were wet." p. 9. We might also add, that the circumstances of the battle are more clearly conceived, and the several incidents more distinctly marked in the old original than in the improved copy. It is well known that the ancient English weapon was the long-bow, and that this nation excelled all others in archery ; while the Scottish warriors chiefly depended on the use of the spear : this characteristic difference never escapes our ancient bard, whose description of the first onset (p. 6) is to the follow- ing effect : " The proposal of the two gallant earls to determine the dispute by THE MORE MODKRN BALLAD OF CHEVY CHACB. 181 ingle combat being overruled, the English, says he, who stood with their bows ready bent, gave a general discharge of their arrows, which slew seven score spearmen of the enemy ; but notwithstanding so severo a loss, Douglas, like a brave captain, kept his ground. He had divided his forces into three columns, who, as soon as the English had discharged the first volley, bore down upon them with their spears, and breaking through their ranks, reduced them to close fighting. The archers upon this dropt their bows, and had recourse to their swords ; and there followed so sharp a conflict, that multitudes on both sides lost their lives." In the midst of this general engagement, at length the two great earls meet, and after a spirited rencounter agree to breathe ; upon which a parley ensues, that would do honour to Homer himself. Nothing can be more pleasingly distinct and circumstantial than this : whereas the modern copy, though in general it has great merit, is here unluckily both confused and obscure. Indeed the original words seem here to have been totally misunderstood. " Yet bydys the yerl Douglas upon the bent" evidently signifies, " Yet the earl Douglas abides in the field ; " whereas the more modern bard seems to have understood by bent, the inclination of his mind, and accordingly runs quite off from the subject, 1 " To drive the deer with hound and horn Earl Douglas had the bent." v. 109. . One may also observe a generous impartiality in the old original bard, when in the conclusion of his tale he represents both nations as quitting the field without any reproachful reflection on either : though he gives to his own countrymen the credit of being the smaller number : " Of fifteen hundred archers of England Went away but lifty and three ; Of twenty hundred spearmen of Scotland, But even five and fifty." p. 10. He attributes flight to neither party, as hath been done in the modern copies of this ballad, as well Scotch as English. For, to be even with onr latter bard, who makes the Scots to flee, some reviser of North Britain has turned his own arms against him, and printed an edition at Glasgow, in which the lines are thus transposed : " Of fifteen hundred Scottish speirs, Went hame but fifty-three : Of twenty hundred Englishmen Scarce fifty-five did flee :" and to countenance this chauge, he has suppressed the two stanzas between ver. 240 and ver. 249. From that edition 1 have here reformed the Scottish names in pp. 189, 190, which in the modem English ballad appeared to be corrupted. 1 In the present edition, instead of the unmeaning lines here censured, n insertion is made of four stanzas modernised from the ancient c >py. 182 THE MOBE MODERN When I call the present admired ballad modern, I only mean thai it is comparatively so ; for that it could not be writ much later than the time of Queen Elizabeth, I think may be made appear ; nor yet loes it seem to be older than the beginning of the last century. 2 Sir Philip Sidney, when he complains of the antiquated phrase of Cliety Chase, could never have seen this improved copy, the language of which is not more ancient than that he himself used. It is probable that the encomiums of so admired a writer excited some bard to revise the ballad, and to free it from those faults he had objected to. That it could not be much later than that time, appears from the phrase doleful dumps ; which in that age carried no ill sound with it, but to the next generation became ridiculous. We have seen it pass tm- censured in a sonnet that was at that time in request, and where it could not fail to have been taken notice of, had it been in the least exceptionable : see above, p. 134. Yet in about half a century after it was become burlesque. See Hudibras, part i. c. iii. ver. 95. This much premised, the reader that would see the general beauties of this ballad set in a just and striking light, may consult the excellent criticism of Mr. Addison. 3 With regard to its subject, it has already been considered in page 2. The conjectures there offered will receive confirmation from a passage in the Memoirs of Carey, Earl of Mon- mouth, 8vo, 1759, p. 165 : whence we learn that it was an ancient custom with the borderers of the two kingdoms, when they were at peace, to send to the Lord Wardens of the opposite Marches for leave to hunt within their districts. If leave was granted, then towards the end of summer, they would come and hunt for several days together, " with their grey-hounds for deer;" but if they took this liberty un- permitted, then the Lord Warden of the border so invaded, would not fail to interrupt their sport and chastise their boldness. He mentions a remarkable instance that happened while he was Warden, when some Scotch gentlemen coming to hunt in defiance of him, there must have ensued such an action as this of Chevy Chace, if the intruders had been proportionably numerous and well-armed ; for upon their being 4 A late writer has started a notion, that the more modern copy " was written to be sung by a party of English, headed by a Douglas, in the year 1524; which is the true reason why, at the same time th?.t it gives the advantage to the English soldiers above the Scotch, it gives yet so lovely and so manifestly superior a character to the Scotch commander above the English." See Say's Essay on the Numbers of Paradise Lost, 4to, 1745, p. 167. This appears to me a groundless conjecture : the language seems too modern for the date above mentioned ; and had it been printed even so early as Queen Elizabeth's reign, I think I should have met with some copy wherein the first line would have been, " God prosper long our noble queen," as was the case with the Blind Beggar of Bednal Green ; see vol. i book T. io. 10. * In the Spectator, Nos. 70, 74. BALLAD OF CHEVY CHAOK. 183 attacked by his men-at-arms, lie tells us, "some hurt was done, though he had given especiall order that they should shed as little blood as possible." They were in effect overpowered and taken prisoners, and only released on their promise to abstain from such licentious sporting for the future. The following text is given from a copy in the Editor's folio MS. compared with two or three others printed in black letter. In the second volume of Dryden's Miscellanies may be found a translation of Chevy-Chace into Latin rhymes. The translator, Mr. Henry Bold, of New College, undertook it at the command of Dr. Compton, Bishop of London, who thought it no derogation to his episcopal character to avow a fondness for this excellent old ballad. See the preface to Bold's Latin Songs, 1685, 8vo. GOD prosper long our noble king, Our liffes and safetyes all ; A woefull hunting once there did In Chevy-Chace befall. To drive the deere with hound and home, 5 Erie Percy took his way ; The child may rue that is unborne The hunting of that day. The stout Erie of Northumberland A vow to God did make, 10 His pleasure in the Scottish woods Three summers days to take ; The cheefest harts in Chevy-Chace To kill and beare away : These tydings to Erie Douglas came, 15 In Scotland where he lay. Who sent Erie Percy present word, He wold prevent his sport ; The English Erie not fearing that, Did to the woods resort, 20 With fifteen hundred bow-men bold, All chosen men of might, Who knew full well in time of neede To ayme their shafts arright. 184 THE MOKE MODERN The gallant greyhounds swiftly ran, 25 To chase the fallow deere ; On Munday they began to hunt, Ere day-light did appeare ; And long before high noone they had An hundred fat buckes slaine ; 30 Then having din'd, the drovyers went To rouze the deare againe. The bow-men mustered on the hills, Well able to endure ; Theire backsides all, with speciall care, 35 That day were guarded sure. The hounds ran swiftly through the woods, The nimble deere to take, 4 That with their cryes the hills and dales An eccho shrill did make. 40 Lord Percy to the quarry went, To view the tender deere ; Quoth he, " Erie Douglas promised This day to meet me heere ; " But if I thought he wold not come, 45 Noe longer wold I stay." With that, a brave younge gentleman Thus to the Erie did say : " Loe, yonder doth Erie Douglas come, His men in armour bright ; 50 Full twenty hundred Scottish speres, All marching in our sight. Ver. 36, that they were. fol. MS. 4 The Chiviot Hills and circumjacent Wastes are at present void botfc t,t deer and woods : but formerly they had enough of both to justify the description attempted here and in the Ancient Ballad of Chevy-Cnaae. Leland, in the reign of Hen. VIII., thus describes this county : " In North- umberland, as I heare say, be no forests, except Chivet Hills : where is much Brushe-wood and some Okke ; grownde ovargrowne with Linge, and some with Mosse. I have harde say that Chivet Hills stretchethe xx miles. There is greate plent4 of Redde-dere, and Roo Bukkes." Itinerary, vol. vii. p. 56. This passage, which did not occur when pp. 15, 17, were printed off, confirms the accounts there given of the Stagge and the Roe. BALLAD OF CHEVY CHACB. 185 " All men of pleasant Tivydale, Fast by the river Tweede :" " cease your sport," Erie Percy said, 55 " And take your bowes with speede. "And now with me, my countrymen, Your courage forth advance ; For never was there champion yett In Scotland or in France, 60 " That ever did on horsebacke come, But, if my hap it were, I durst encounter man for man, With him to breake a spere." Erie Douglas on his milke-white steede, 65 Most like a baron bold, Rode formost of his company, Whose armour shone like gold. " Show me," sayd hee, " whose men you bee, That hunt soe boldly heere, 70 That, without my consent, doe chase And kill my fallow-deere." The man that first did answer make Was noble Percy hee ; Who sayd, " Wee list not to declare, 75 Nor shew whose men wee bee. " Yet will wee spend our deerest blood, Thy cheefest harts to slay ;" Then Douglas swore a solempne oathe, And thus in rage did say ; 80 " Ere thus I will out-braved bee, One of us two shall dye : I know thee well, an erle thou art ; Lord Percy, soe am I. " But trust me, Percy, pittye it were, 36 And great offence, to kill Any of these our guiltlesse men, For they have done no ill 186 THE MORE MODEBK " Let thou and I the battell trye, And set our men aside." 90 " Accurst bee he," Erie Percy sayd, " By whome this is denyed." Then stept a gallant squier forth, Witherington was his name, Who said, " I wold not have it told 95 To Henry our king for shame, " That ere my captaine fought on foote, And I stood looking on : You bee two erles," sayd Witherington, " And I a squier alone. 100 " He doe the best that doe I may, While I have power to stand ; While I have power to wceld my sword, He fight with hart and hand." Our English archers bent their bowes, 105 Their harts were good and trew ; Att the first flight of arrowes sent, Full four-score Scots they slew. 5 [Yet bides Earl Douglas on the bent, As Chieftain stout and good, 110 As valiant Captain, all unmov'd The shock he firmly stood. His host he parted had in three, As Leader ware and try'd, And soon his spearmen on their foes 115 Bare down on every side. 5 The four stanzas here iuclosed in brackets, which are borrowed chiefly from the ancient copy, are offered to the reader instead of the following lines, which occur in the Editor's fol. MS. " To drive the deere with hound and home, Douglas bade on the bent ; Two captaines moved with mickle might Their speres to shivers went." BALLAD OF CHEVY CHACE. 187 Tkroughout the English archery They dealt full many a wound ; But still our valiant Englishmen All firmly kept their ground. 120 And throwing strait their bows away, They grasp'd their swords so bright : And now sharp blows, a heavy shower, OH shields and helmets light.] They clos'd full fast on everye side, 125 Noe slacknes there was found ; And many a gallant gentleman Lay gasping on the ground. Christ ! it was a griefe to see, And likewise for to heare, 130 The cries of men lying in their gore, And scattered here aud there. At last these two stout erles did meet, Like captaines of great might ; Like lyons wood they layd on lode, 135 And made a cruell fight. They fought, until 1 they both did sweat, \\ ith swords of tempered steele ; Until the blood, like drops of rain, They trickling downe did feele. 140 " Yeeld thee, Lord Percy," Douglas sayd " In faith I will thee bringe, Where thou shalt high advanced bee By James our Scottish king. " Thy ransome I will freely give, 145 And thus report of thee, Thou art the most couragious knight That ever I did see." " Noe, Douglas," quoth Erie Percy then, " Thy proffer I doe scorne ; 1 50 1 will not yeelde to any Scott, That ever yett was borne." 188 THE MORE MODERN With that, there came an arrow keene Out of an English bow, Which strncke Erie Douglas to the heart, 155 A deepe and deadlye blow : Who never spake more words than these, " Fight on, my merry men all ; For why, my life is at an end : Lord Percy sees my fall." 16G Then leaving liffe, Erie Percy tooke The dead man by the hand ; And said, " Erie Douglas, for thy life Wold I had lost my land ! " Christ! my verry hart doth bleed 165 With sorrow for thy sake ; For sure, a more renowned knight Mischance cold never take." A knight amongst the Scotts there was, Which saw Erie Douglas dye, 170 Who streight in wrath did vow revenge Upon the Lord Percye ; Sir Hugh Mountgomerye was he call'd, Who, with a spere most bright, Well-mounted on a gallant steed, 175 Ban fiercely through the fight ; And past the English archers all, Without all dread or feare, And through Earl Percyes body then He thrust his hatefull spere 180 With such a vehement force and might He did his body gore, The speare ran through the other side A large cloth-yard, and more. So thus did both these nobles dye, 185 Whose courage none could staine ; An English archer then perceiv'd The noble erle was slaine. BALLAD OF CHEVY CHACK. 189 He Lad a bow bent in his hand, Made of a trusty tree ; 190 An arrow of a cloth-yard long Up to the head drew hee. Against Sir Hugh Mountgomerye, So right the shaft he sett, The grey goose-wing that was thereon 195 In his harts bloode was wett. This fight did last from breake of day Till setting of the sun ; For when they rung the evening bell, 6 The battel scarce was done. 200 With stout Erie Percy, there was slaine, Sir John of Egerton, 7 Sir Robert Ratcliff, and Sir John, Sir James, that bold Baron. And with Sir George and stout Sir James, 205 Both knights of good account, Good Sir Ralph Rabby there was slaine, "Whose prowesse did surmount. For Witherington needs must I wayle, As one in doleful dumpes ; 8 210 For when his legs were smitten off, He fought upon his stumpes. And with Erie Douglas, there was slaine Sir Hugh Mountgomerye, Sir Charles Murray, that from the feeld 215 One foote wold never flee. Sir Charles Murray of Ratcliff, too, His sisters soime was hee ; Sir David Lamb, so well esteem'd, Yet saved cold not bee. 220 ' Sc. the Curfew-bell, usually rung at eight o'clock ; to which the moderniser apparently alludes, instead of the Evensong-bell, or bell for vespers of the original author, before the Reformation. Vide supra, p. 9, r. 97. T For the surnames, see the Notes at the end of the ballad. '. e. "I, as one in deep concern, must lament." The construction hef has generally been misunderstood. The old MS. reads wofvll dumpes. 190 THE MORE MODERN And the Lord Maxwell in like case Did with Erie Douglas dye ; Of twenty hundred Scottish speres, Scarce fifty-five did flye. Of fifteen hundred Englishmen, 225 Went home but fifty-three ; The rest were slaine in Chevy-Chace, Under the greene wood tree. Next day did many widowes come, Their husbands to bewayle ; 230 They washt their wounds in brinish teares, But all wold not prevayle. Theyr bodyes, bathed in purple blood, They bore with them away : They kist them dead a thousand times, 235 Ere they were cladd in clay. This newes was brought to Eddenborrow, Where Scotlands king did raigne, That brave Erie Douglas suddenlye Was with an arrow slaine. 240 " heavy newes," King James did say ; " Scottland can witnesse bee, I have not any captaine more Of such account as hee." Like tydings to King Henry came, 245 Within as short a space, That Percy of Northumberland Was slaine in Chevy-Chace. " Now God be with him," said our king, " Sith it will noe better bee ; 250 I trust I have, within my realme, Five hundred as good as hee. " Yett shall not Scotts nor Scotland say, But I will vengeance take, I'll be revenged on them all, 255 For brave Erie Percyes sake." BALLAD OF CHE VI CHACE. 191 This vow full well the king perform'd After, at Humbledowne ; In one day, fifty knights were slayne, With lordes of great renowne. 260 And of the rest, of small account, Did many thousands dye : Thus endeth the hunting in Chevy-Chace, Hade by the Erie Percy. God save our king, and bless this land 265 In plentye, joy, and peace ; And grant henceforth, that foule debate 'Twixt noblemen may cease ! *,* Since the former impression of these volumes hath been pub- lished a new edition of Collins's Peerage, 1779, &c., 9 vols. 8vo, which contains, in volume ii. p. 334, an historical passage that may be thought to throw considerable light on the subject of the preceding ballad : viz. " In this .... year, 1436, according to Hector Boethius, was fought the battle of Pepperden, not far from the Cheviot Hills, between the Earl of Northumberland [second Earl, son of Hotspur] and Earl William Douglas, of Angus, with a small army of about 4000 men each, in which the latter had the advantage. As this seems to have been a private conflict between these two great chieftains of the Borders, rather than a national war, it has been thought to have given rise to the celebrated old ballad of Chevy-Chase, which, to render it more pathetic and interesting, has been heightened with tragical incidents wholly fictitious." See Eidpath's Bordtr Hist., 4to, p. 401. The surnames in the foregoing ballad are altered, either by accident or design, from the old original copy, and in common editions extremely corrupted. They are here rectified, as much as they could be. Thus, Page 189, ver. 202. Egerton.'} This name is restored (instead of Ogerton, com. ed.) from the Editor's folio MS. The pieces in that MS. appear to have been collected, and many of them composed (among which might be this ballad) by an inhabitant of Cheshire ; who was willing to pay a compliment here to one of his countrymen, of the eminent family De or Of Egerton (so the name was first written), an- cestors of the present Duke of Bridgwater : and this he could do with the more propriety, as the Percies had formerly great interest in that county : at the fatal battle of Shrewsbury all the flower of the Cheshire gentlemen lost their lives fighting in the cause of Hotspur. Ver. 203. Batcliff.'] This was a family much distinguished in North- umberland. Edw. Radcliffe, mil., was sheriff of that county in 17 of Hen. VII., and others of the same surname afterwards. See Fuller, p. 313. Sir George Ratcliff, knt., was one of the commissioners of inclosure 192 DEATH'S FINAL CONQUEST. in 1552. fiee Nicholson, p. 330. Of this family was the late Earl ol Derwentwater, who was beheaded in 1715. The Editor's folio MS. however reads here " Sir Eobert Harcliffe and Sir William." The Harcleys were an eminent family in Cumberland. See Fuller, p. 224. Whether this may be thought to be the same name I do not determine. Ver. 204. Baron.] This is apparently altered (not to say corrupted) from Hearone, in page 10, ver. 114. Ver. 207. Baby.'] This might be intended to celebrate one of the ancient possessors of Kaby Castle, in the county of Durham. Yet it is written Kebbye in the fol. MS., and looks like a corruption of Rugby or Bokeby, an eminent family in Yorkshire. See pp. 10, 25. It will not be wondered that the Percies should be thought to bring followers out of that county, where they themselves were originally seated, and had always such extensive property and influence. Ver. 215. Murray.'] So the Scottish copy. In the common edition it is Carrel or Currd ; and Morrell in the fol. MS. Ver. 217. Murray.] So the Scot. edit. The com. copies read Murrd. The fol. MS. gives the line in the following peculiar manner, " Sir Roger Heuer of Harcliffe too." Ver. 219. Lamb.] The folio MS. has " Sir David Lamwell well esteemed." This seems evidently corrupted from Lwdale or Liddell, in the old copy, pp. 10, 25. II. jFtnal Conquest. These fine moral stanzas were originally intended for a solemn funeral song in a play of James Shirley's, entitled The Contention of Ajax and Ulysses : no date, 8vo. Shirley flourished as a dramatic writer early in the reign of Charles I. ; but he outlived the Restoration. His death happened Oct. 29, 1666, set. 72. This little poem was written long after many of those that follow, but is inserted here as a kind of dirge to the foregoing piece. It is said to have been a favourite song with King Charles II. THE glories of our birth and state Are shadows, not substantial things ; There is no armour against fate : Death lays his icy hands on kings : THB KISINGr IN THE NOBTH. 193 Scepter and crown 5 Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade. Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill ; 10 But their strong nerves at last must yield, They tame but one another still. Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath, 15 When they, pale captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow, Then boast no more your mighty deeds ; Upon death's purple altar now See where the victor victim bleeds : 20 All heads must come To the cold tomb, Only the actions of the just Smell sweet and blossom in the dust. III. Cftr iHfetnjj tn the fiorti). The subject of this ballad is the great Northern insurrection in the twelfth year of Elizabeth, 1569, which proved so fatal to Thomas Percy, the seventh Earl of Northumberland. There had not long before been a secret negotiation entered into between some of the Scottish and English nobility, to bring about a marriage between Mary, Queen of Scots, at that time a prisoner iv England, and the Duke of Norfolk, a nobleman of excellent character and firmly attached to the Protestant religion. This match was pro posed to all the most considerable of the English nobility, and among the rest to the Earls of Northumberland and Westmoreland, two noble- men very powerful in the north. As it seemed to promise a speedy and safe conclusion of the troubles in Scotland, with many advantages to the crown of England, they all consented to it, provided it should prove agreeable to Queen Elizabeth. The Earl of Leicester (Elizabeth's favourite) undertook to break the matter to her ; but before he could VOL. I. O 194 THE BISING IN THE NORTH. find an opportunity, the affair had come to her ears by other hands, and she was thrown into a violent flame. The Duke of Norfolk, with several of his friends, was committed to the Tower, and summons were sent to the northern earls instantly to make their appearance at court. It is said that the Earl of Northumberland, who was a man of a mild and gentle nature, was deliberating with himself whether he should not obey the message, and rely upon the queen's candour and clemency, when he was lorced into desperate measures by a sudden report at midnight, November 14, that a party of his enemies were come to seize on his person. 1 The earl was then at his house at Topcliffe in Yorkshire ; when rising hastily out of bed, he w : thdrew to the Earl of Westmore- land, at Brancepeth, where the country came in to them, and pressed them to take arms in their own defence. They accordingly set up their standards, declaring their intent was to restore the ancient religion, to get the succession of the crown firmly st ttled, and to prevent the destruction of the ancient nobility, &c. Their common banner 2 (on which was displayed the Cross, together with the five wounds of Christ) was borne by an ancient gentleman, Richard Norton, Esq., of Norton- Conyers; who with his sons (among whom, Christopher, Marmaduke, and Thomas, are expressly named by Camnen) distinguished himself on this occasion. Having entered Durham, they tore the Bible, &c., and caused mass to be said there : they then marched on to Clifford- moor, near Wetherbye, where they mustered their men. Their intention was to have proceeded on to York ; but altering their minds, they fell upon Barnard's castle, which Sir George Bowes held out against them for eleven days. The two earls, who spent their large estates in hospitality, and were extremely beloved on that account, were masters of little ready money ; the Earl of Northumberland bringing with him only 8000 crowns, and the Earl of Westmoreland nothing at all for the subsistence of their forces, they were not able to march to London, as they bad at first intended. In these circumstances, Westmoreland began so visibly to despond, that many of his men slunk away ; though Northumberland still kept up his resolution, and was master of the field till December IS, when the Earl of Sussex, accompanied with Lord Hunsden and others, having marched out of Yoik at the head of a large body of forces, and being followed by a still larger army under the command of Ambrose Dudley, Earl of Warwick, the insurgents retreated northward towards the borders, and there dismissing their followers, made their escape into Scotland. Though this insurrection had been suppressed with so little bloodshed, the Earl of Sussex and Sir George Bowes, marshal of the army, put vast numbers to death by martial law, without any regular trial. The former of thtse caused at Durham sixty-three constables to lie hanged at once ; and the latter made his boast, that for sixty miles in length and forty in breadth, betwixt New- castle and Wetherbye, there was hardly a town or village wherein he had not executed some of the inhabitants. This exceeds the cruelties ' This circumstance is overlooked in the ballad. * Besides this, the ballad mentions the separa e banners of the two noblemen. THE RISING IN THE NOBTH. 19& practised '.n the West after Monmouth's rebellion : but that was not the age of tenderness aud humanity. Such is the account collected from Stow, Speed, Camden, Guthrie, Carte, and Rapin ; it agrees in most particulars with the following ballad, which was apparently the production of some northern minstrel, who was well affected to the two noblemen. It is here printed from two MS. copies, one of them in the Editor's folio collection. They contained considerable variations, out of which such readings were chosen as Beemed most poetical and consonant to history. LISTEN, lively Lordings all, Lithe and listen unto mee, And I will sing of a noble earle, The noblest earle in the north countrie. Earle Percy is into his garden gone, 5 And after him walkes his faire Ladie : 3 " I heare a bird sing in mine eare, That I must either fight or flee." " Now heaven forefend, my dearest Lord, That ever such harm should hap to thee : 10 But goe to London to the court, And faire fall truth and honestie." " Now nay, now nay, my Ladye gay, Alas ! thy counsell suits not mee ; Mine enemies prevail so fast, 15 That at the court I may not bee." " goe to the court yet, good my Lord, And take thy gallant men with thee : If any dare to doe you wrong, Then your warrant they may bee." 20 " Now nay, now nay, thou Lady faire, The court is full of subtiltie ; And if I goe to the court, Lady, Never more I may thee see." " Yet goe to the court, my Lord," she sayes, 25 " And I myselfe will ryde wi' thee : At court then for my dearest Lord, His faithfull borrowe I will bee." 1 This was Anne, daughter of Henry Somerset, Earl of Worcester. o 2 196 THE RISING IN THE NORTH. " Now nay, now nay, my Lady deare ; Far lever had I lose my life, 30 Than leave among my cruell foes My love in jeopardy and strife. " But come thou hither, my little foot-p&ge, Come thou hither unto mee ; To maister Norton thou must goe 35 In all the haste that ever may bee. " Commend me to that gentleman, And heare this letter here fro mee ; And say that earnestly I praye, He will ryde in my companie." 40 One while the little foot-page went, And another while he ran ; Untill he came to his journeys end, The little foot-page never blan. When to that gentleman he came, 45 Down he kneeled on his knee, And took the letter betwixt his hands, And lett the gentleman it see. And when the letter it was redd Affore that goodlye companye, 50 I wis, if you the truthe wold know, There was many a weeping eye. He sayd, " Come hither, Christopher Norton, A gallant youth thou seemst to bee ; What doest thou counsell me, my sonne, 55 Now that good erle's in jeopardy ? " " Father, my counselled fair and free ; That erle he is a noble lord, And whatsoever to him you hight, I wold not have you breake your word." 60 " Gramercy, Christopher, my sonne, Thy counsell well it liketh me, And if we speed and scape with life, Well advanced shalt thou bee. V. 35, It is well known that the fatfe of the Nortonr forms the theme of Wordsworth's White Loe of Rylstone. Editor. THE BISING IN THE NORTH. 197 u Come you hither, my nine good sonnes, 65 Gallant men I trowe you bee : How many of you, my children deare, Will stand by that good erle and mee ? " Eight of them did answer make, Eight of them spake hastilie, 70 " O father, till the daye we dye We'll stand by that good erle and thee." " Gramercy now, my children deare, You showe yourselves right bold and brave ; And whethersoe'er I live or dye, 75 A fathers blessing you shal have. " But what sayst thou, Francis Norton ? Thou art mine eldest sonn and heire ; Somewhat lyes brooding in thy breast ; Whatever it bee, to mee declare." 80 " Father, you are an aged man ; Your head is white, your bearde is gray ; It were a shame at these your yeares For you to ryse in such a fray." * Now fye upon thee, coward Francis, 85 Thou never learnedst this of mee ; When thou wert yong and tender of age, Why did I make soe much of thee ? " " But, father, I will wend with you, Unann'd and naked will I bee ; 90 And he that strikes against the crowne, Ever an ill death may he dee." Then rose that reverend gentleman, And with him came a goodlye baud, To join with the brave Erie Percy, 95 And all the flower o' Northumberland. With them the noble Nevill came, The Erie of Westmorland was hee : At Wetherbye they mustred their host, Thirteen thousand faire to see. 100 198 THE BISI5G IN THE NORTH. Lord Westmorland his ancyent raisde, The Dun Bull he rays'd on hye, And three dogs with golden collars Were there sett out most royallye.* Erie Percy there his ancyent spred, 105 The Halfe-Moone shining all soe faire : 5 The Nortons ancyent had the crosse, And the five wounds our Lord did beare. 4 Ver. 102, Dv Bull, &c.~\ The supporters of the Nevilles, Earls of Westmoreland, were two b^lls argent, ducaiiy collar'd gold, armed or, &o. But I have not discovered the device mentioned in the ballad among the badges, &c., given by that house. This, however, is certain, that among those of the Nevilles, Lords Abergavenny, (who were of the same family) is a dun cow with a golden collar : and the Nevilles of Chyte in Yorkshire (of the Westmoreland branch) gave for their crest in 1513, a dog's (grey- hound's) head, erased. So that it is not improbable but Charles Neville, the unhappy Earl of Westmoreland here mentioned, might on this occasion give the above device on his banner. After all, our old minstrel's verses here may have undergone some corruption ; for, in another ballad in the same folio MS., and apparently written by the same hand, containing the Sequel of this Lord Westmoreland's history, his banner is thus described, more conformable to his known bearings : " Sette me up my faire Dun Bull, Wi' th' Gilden Homes, hee beares so hye." 5 Ver. 106, The Halfe-Moone, fyc.~] The silver crescent is a well-known crest or badge of the Northumberland family. It was probably brought home from some of the crusades against the Sarazens. In an ancient Pedigree in verse, finely illuminated on a roll of vellum, and written in the reign of Henry VII. (in possession of the family), we have this fabulous account given of its original. The author begins with accounting for the name of Gernon or Algernon, often borne by the Percies : who, he says, were " .... Gernons fyrst named of Brutys bloude of Troy : Which valliantly fyghtynge in the land of Perse (Persia) At pointe terrible ayance the miscreants on nyght, An hevynly mystery was schewyd him, old bookys reherse ; In hys scheld did schyne a MONE veryfying her lyght, Which to all the ooste yave a perfytte syght, To vaynquys his enmys, and to deth them persue ; Ard therefore the Perses (Percies) the Cressant doth renew." In the dark ages, no family was deemed considerable that did not derira its descent from the Trojan Brutus ; or that was not distinguished ay prodigies and miracles. THE RISING IN THE NORTH. 199 Then Sir George Bowes he straitwaye rose, After them some spoyle to make ; 110 Those noble erles turn'd backe againe, And aye they vowed that knight to take. That baron he to his castle fled, To Barnard castle then fled hee ; The uttermost walles were eathe to win, 115 The earles have won them presentlie. The uttermost walles were lime and bricke, But thoughe they won them soon anone, Long e'er they wan the innermost walles, For they were cut in rocke of stone. 120 Then newes unto leeve London came, In all the speede that ever might bee, And word is brought to our royall queene Of the rysing in the North countrie. Her grace she turned her round about, 125 And like a royall queene shee swore, 6 " I will ordayne them such a breakfast, As never was in the North before." Shee caus'd thirty thousand men be rays'd, With horse and harneis faire to see ; 130 She caused thirty thousand men be raised, To take the earles i' th' North countrie. Wi' them the false Erie Warwick went, Th' Erie Sussex and the Lord Hunsden ; TJntill they to Yorke castle came, 135 I wiss, they never stint ne blan. Now spred thy ancyent, Westmorland, Thy dun bull faine would we spye : And thou, the Erie o' Northumberland, Now rayse thy half-inoone up on hye. 140 But the dun bulle is fled and gone, And the halfe-moone vanished away : Phe erles, though they were brave and bold, Against soe many could not stay. This is quite in character : her m? jesty would sometimes swell at he* .obles, as well as box their ears. 200 NOBTHTJMBEBLAND BETRAYED BY DOUGLAS. Thee, Norton, wi' thine eight good sonnes, 145 They doom'd to dye, alas for ruth ! Thy reverend lockes thee could not save, Nor them their faire and blooming youthe. Wi' them full many a gallant wight They cruellye bereav'd of life : 160 And many a childe made fatherlesse, And widowed many a tender wife. IV. fiortf)umberlantt fcttraortJ ip This ballad may be considered as the sequel of the preceding. After the unfortunate Earl of Northumberland had seeii himself forsaken ol his followers, he endeavoured to withdraw into Scotland, but falling into the hands of the thievish borderers, was stript and otherwise ill- treated by them. At length he reached tho house of Hector of Harlow, an Armstrong, with whom he hoped to lie concealed ; for Hector had engaged his honour to be true to him, and was under great obligations to this unhappy nobleman. But this faithless wretch betrayed his guest for a sum of money to Murray, the regent of Scotland, who sent him to the castle of Lough-leven, then belonging to William Douglas. All the writers of that time assure us that Hector, who was rich before, fell shortly afterwards into poverty, and became so infamous, that to take Sector's cloak, grew into a proverb, to express a man who betrays his friend. See Camden, Carleton, Holingshed, &c. Lord Northumberland continued in the castle of Lough-leven, till the year 1572 ; when James Douglas, Earl of Morton, being elected regent, he was given up to the Lord Hunsden at Berwick, and being carried to York, suffered death. As Morton's party depended on Elizabeth for protection, an elegant historian thinks " It was scarce possible for them to refuse putting into her hands a person who had taken up arms against her. But as a sum of money was paid on that account, and shared between Morton and his kinsman Douglas, the former of whom during his exile in England had been much indebted to Northumber- land's friendship, the abandoning this unhappy nobleman to inevitable destruction was deemed an ungrateful and mercenary act" Robertson's Hist. So far history coincides with this ballad, which was apparently written by some northern bard, soon after the event. The interposal of the witch-lady (v. 53) is probably his own invention ; yet even this hath some countenance from history ; for about 25 years before, the Lady Jane Douglas, Lady Glamis, sister of the Earl of Angus, and nearly NOBTHTJMBEKLAND BETBAYED BY DOUGLAS. 201 related to Douglas of Lough-leven, had suffered death for the pretended crime of witchcraft ; who, it is presumed, is the witch lady ulluded to in f. 133. The following is selected (like the former) from two copies, which contained great variations : one of them in the Editor's folio MS. In the other copy, some of the stanzas at the beginning of this ballad aro nearly the same with what in that MS. are made to begin another ballad on the escape of the Earl of Westmoreland, who got safe into Flanders, and is feigned in the ballad to have undergone a great variety rf adventures. " How long shall fortune faile me nowe, And harrowe me with fear and dread ? How long shall I in bale abide, In misery my life to lead ? " To fall from my bliss, alas the while 1 5 It was my sore and lieavye lott : And 1 must leave my native land, And I must live a man forgot. " One gentle Armstrong I doe ken, A Scot he is, much bound to mee ; 10 He dwell eth on the Border side, To him I'll goe right privilie." Thus did the noble Percy 'plaine, With a heavy heart and wel-away, When he with all his gallant men 15 On Bramham moor had lost the day. But when he to the Armstrongs came, They dealt with him all treacherouslye ; For they did strip that noble erle, And ever an ill death may they dye ! 20 False Hector to Earl Murray sent, To shew him where his guest did hide, Who sent him to the Lough-leven, With William Douglas to abide. And when he to the Douglas came, 25 He halched him right curteouslie ; Say'd, "Welcome, welcome, noble earle, Here thou shalt safelye bide with mee." 202 NOBTHUMBERLAND BETRAYED BY DOTJGLA8. When he had in Lough-leven been Many a month and many a day, 30 To the regent l the lord warden 2 sent, That banisht erle for to betray. He offered him great store of gold, And wrote a letter fair to see, Saying, " Good my Lord, grant me my boon, 35 And yield that banisht man to mee." Erie Percy at the supper sate, With many a goodly gentleman ; The wylie Douglas then bespake, And thus to flyte with him began. 40 " What makes you be so sad. my Lord, And in your mind so sorrowfullye ? To-morrow a shootinge will bee held Among the lords of the North countrye. " The butts are sett, the shooting's made, 45 And there will be great royaltye ; And I am sworne into my bille, Thither to bring my Lord Percye." " I'll give thee my hand, thou gentle Douglas, And here by my true faith," quoth hee, 50 " If thou wilt ride to the worldes end I will ryde in thy companye." And then bespake a lady faire, Mary a Douglas was her name ; " You shall bide here, good English Lord, 55 My brother is a traiterous man. " He is a traitor stout and stronge, As I tell you in privitie ; For he hath tane liverance of the erle 3 Into England nowe to liver thee." 60 1 James Douglas, Earl of Morton, elected regent of Scotland Nov. 24, 1572. 2 Of one of the English Marches. Lord Hunsden. * Of the Earl of Morton, the regent. NORTHUMBERLAND BETRAYED BY DOUGLAS. 203 a Now nay, now nay, thou goodly lady, The regent is a noble lord : Ne for the gold in all England, The Douglas wold not break his word. " When the regent was a banisht man, 65 With me he did faire welcome find ; And whether weal or woe betide, I still shall find him true and kind. " Between England and Scotland it wold breake truce, And friends againe they wold never bee, 70 If they shold 'liver a banisht erle, Was driven out of his own countrie." "Alas! alas! my Lord," she sayes, " Nowe mickle is their traitorie ; Then lett my brother ryde his wayes, 75 And tell those English lords from tb.ee, " How that you cannot with him ryde, Because you are in an ile of the sea,* Then ere my brother come againe, To Edenborrow castle 5 J le carry thee. 80 " To the Lord Hume I will thee bring ; He is well knowne a true Scots lord, And he will lose both land and life, Ere he with thee will break his word." " Much is my woe," Lord Percy sayd, 85 " When 1 thinke on my own countrie, Wlien I thinks on the heavye happe My friends have suffered there for nice. " Much is my woe," Lord Percy sayd, " And sore those wars my minde distresse ; 90 Where many a wid w lost her mate, And many a child was fatherlesse. 4 . e. Lake of Leven, which hath communication with the sea. * At that time in the hands of the opposite faction. 204 NOBTHUMBERLAND BETRAYED BT DOUGLAS. " And now that I, a banisht man, Shold bring such evil happe with mee, To cause my faire and noble friends 95 To be suspect of treacherie, " This rives my heart with double woe ; And lever had I dye this day, Than thinke a Douglas can be false, Or ever he will his guest betray." 100 " If you'll give me no trust, my Lord, Nor unto mee no credence yield, Yet step one moment here aside, lie showe you all your foes in field." " Lady, I never loved witchcraft, 105 Never dealt in privy wyle ; Eut evermore held the high-waye Of truth and honours, free from guile." " If you'll not come yourselfe, my Lorde, Yet send your chamberlaine with mee, 110 Let me but speak three words with him, And he shall come again to thee." James Swynard with that lady went, She showed him through the weme of her ring How many English lords there were 115 Waiting for his master and him. " And who walkes yonder, my good lady, So royallye on yonder greene ? " " O yonder is the Lord Hunsden : 6 Alas ! he'll doe you drie and teene." 120 " And who beth yonder, thou gay ladye, That walkes so proudly him beside ? " " That is Sir William Drury," 7 shee sayd, " A keene captaine hee is and tryde." " How many miles is itt, madame, 125 Betwixt yond English lords and mee ? " " Marry it is thrice fifty miles, To saile to them upon the sea. The Lord Warden of the East Marches. 7 Governor of Berwick. NOBTTT0MBERLAND BETRAYED BY DOUGLAS. 205 * I never was on English ground, Ne never sawe it with mine eye, 130 But as my book it sheweth mee, And through my ring I may descrye. " My mother shee was a witch ladye, And of her skille she learned mee ; She wold let me see out of Lough-leven 135 What they did in London citie." " But who is yond, thou lady faire, That looketh with sic an austerne face 9" " Yonder is Sir John Foster," 8 quoth shee, " Alas ! he'll do ye sore disgrace." 140 He pulled his hatt down over his browe ; He wept, in his heart he was full of woo ; And he is gone to his noble lord, Those sorrowful tidings him to show. " Now nay, now nay, good James Swynard, 145 I may not believe that witch ladie ; The Douglasses were ever true, And they can ne'er prove false to mee. " I have now in Lough-leven been The most part of these years three, 150 Yett have I never had noe outrake, Ne no good games that I cold see. " Therefore I'll to yond shooting wend, As to the Douglas I have hight : Betide me weale, betide me woe, 155 He ne'er shall find my promise light. ' He writhe a gold ring from his finger, And gave itt to that gay ladie : Sayes, " It was all that I cold save, In Harley woods where I cold bee." 9 160 " And wilt thou goe, thou noble Lord ? Then farewell truth and honestie, And farewell heart, and farewell hand, For never more I shall thee see." Warden of the middle March. i. e. Where I was : ac ancient idiom. 20C NOBTHUMBRBLAND BETRAYED BY DOUGLAS. The wind was faire, the boatmen call'd, 165 And all the saylors were on horde ; Then William Douglas took to his boat, And with him went that noble lord. Then he cast up a silver wand, Says, Gentle lady, fare thee well ! " 170 The lady fett a sigh soe deep, And in a dead swoone down shee fell. " Now let us goe back, Douglas," he sayd, " A sickness hath taken yond faire ladle ; If ought befall yond lady but good, 175 Then blamed for over I shall bee." " Come on, come on, my Lord," he sayes, " Come on, come on, and let her bee ; There's ladyes enow in Lough-leven For to cheere that gay ladie." 180 " If you'll not turne yourself, my Lord, Let me goe with my chamberlaine ; We will but comfort that faire lady, And wee will return to you againe." " Come on, come on, my Lord," he sayes, 185 " Come on, come on, and It t her bee ; My sister is craftye, and wold beguile A thousand such as you and mee." When they had sayled 1 fifty myle, Now fifty mile upon the sea, 190 Hee sent his man to ask the Douglas, When they shold that shooting see. " Faire words," quoth he, " they make foolcs faine, And that by thee and thy lord is seen ; You may hap to think itt soon enough, 195 Ere you that shooting reach, I ween." 1 There is no navigable otream between Lough-leven and the sea : but a ballad-maker is not obliged to understand geography. NOBTHUMBEBLAND BETBATED BY DOUGLAS. 207 Jamye his hatt pulled over his browe, He thought his lord then was betray'd ; And he is to Erie Percy againe, To tell him what the Douglas sayd. 200 Hold upp thy head, man," quoth his lord, " Nor therefore lett thy courage fayle ; He did it but to prove thy heart, To see if he cold make it quail." When they had other fifty sayld, 205 Other fifty mile upon the sea, Lord Percy called to Douglas himselfe, Sayd, " What wilt thou nowe doe with mee ? " " Looke that your brydle be wight, my Lord, And your horse goe swift as shipp att sea ; 210 Looke that your spurres be bright and fharpe, That you may pricke her while she'll a.vay." " What needeth this, Douglas ? " he sayth ; " What needest thou to flyte with mee V For I was counted a horseman good 215 Before that ever I mett with thee. " A false Hector hath my horse, Who dealt with mee so treacherouslie ; A false Armstrong he hath my spurres, And all the geere belongs to mee." 220 When they had sayled other fifty mile, Other fifty mile upon the sea, They landed low by Berwicke side, A deputed ' laird ' landed Lord Percye. Then he at Yorke was doomde to dye, 225 It was, alas ! a sorrowful sight ; Thus they betrayed that noble earle, Who ever was a gallant wight. . 224. fol. MS. reads land, and has not the following stanza 208 MY MIND TO ME A KINGDOM IS. V. fflfo fHt'ntt to me a Bmgttom te. This excellent philosophical song appears to have been famous in the sixteenth century. It is quoted by Ben Jonson in his play of Ever$ Man out of His humour, first acted in 1599, act i. sc. 1, where an im- patient person says, " I am no such pil'd cynique to believe That beggery is tb<* onely happinesse, Or, with a number of these patient fooles, To sing, ' My minde to me a kingdome is,' When the lanke hungrie belly barkes for foode." It is here chiefly printed from a thin quarto music-book, entitled u Psalmes, Sonets, and Songs of Sadness and Pietie made into Musicke of five parts, &c. By William Byrd, one of the Gent, of the Queenes Majesties Honorable Chappell. Printed by Thomas East," &c., 4to, no date : but Ames, in his Typog., has mentioned another edition of the same book, dated 1588, which I take to have been later than this. Some improvements, and an additional stanza (sc. the 5th) were had from two other ancient copies; one of them in black letier, in the Pepys Collection, thus inscribed, " A sweet and pleasant Sonet, intitled My Mind to me a Kingdom is. To the tune of In Crete," &c. Some of the stanzas in this poem were printed by Byrd separate from the rest : they are here given in what seemed the most natural order. MY ininde to me a kingdome is ; Such perfect joy therein I finde As farre exceeds all earthly blisse, That God or nature hath assignde : Though much I want, that most would liave 6 Yet still my mind forbids to crave. Content I live, this is my stay ; I seek no more than may suffice ; I presse to beare no haughtie sway : Look, what I lack my mind supplies. 10 Loe ! thus I triumph like a king, Content with that my mind doth bring. I see how plentie surfets oft, And hastie clymbers soonest fall ; I see that such as sit aloft 15 Mishap doth threaten most of all ; MT MIND TO ME A KINGDOM IS. 5209 These get with toile, and keep with feare ; Such cares my mind could never beare. No princely pompe, nor welthie store, No force to winne the victorie, 20 No wylie wit to salve a sore, No shape to winne a lovers eye ; To none of these I yeeld as thrall, For why my mind dispiseth all. Some have too much, yet still they crave, 25 I little have, yet seek no more : They are but poore, tho' much they have ; And I am rich with little store. They poor, I rich ; they beg, I give ; They lacke, I lend ; they pine, I live. 30 I laugh not at auothers losse, I grudge not at anothers gaine ; No worldly wave my mind can tosse, I brooke that is anothers bane. I feare no foe, nor fawne on friend ; 35 I loth not life, nor dread mine end. I joy not in no earthly blisse ; I weigh not Cresus' welth a straw ; For care, I care not what it is ; I feare not fortunes fatall law. 40 My mind is such as may not move For beautie bright or force of love. I wish but what I have at will ; I wander not to seeke for more ; I like the plaine, I clime no hill ; 15 In greatest stormos I sitte on shore, And laugh at them that toile in vaine To get what must be lost againe. I kisse not where 1 wish to kill ; I faine not love where most I hate ; 50 I breake no sleep to winne my will ; I wayte not at the might ies gate ; 1 scorne no poore, I feare no rich ; 1 feele no want, nor have too much. VOL. 1. f 210 THE PATIENT COUNTESS. The court, ne cart, I like, ne loath ; 55 Extreames are counted worst of all ; The golden meane betwixt them both Doth surest sit, and fears no fall. This is my choyce, for why I finde No wealth is like a quiet minde. 60 My welth is health, and perfect ease ; My conscience clere my chiefe defence; I never seeke by brybcs to please, Nor by desert to give offence. Thus do I live, thus will I die ; 65 Would all did so as well as 1 1 VI. Cf)c $attmt Counted. The subject of this tale is taken from that entertaining colloquy of Erasmus entitled, Uxor Me/uKTo/uos, sive Conjugium: which has been agreeably modernised by the late Mr. Spence in his little miscellaneous publication entitled " Moralities, &c., by Sir Harry Beaumont," 1753, 8vo, p. 42. The following stanzas are extracted from an ancient poem entitled Albion's England, written by W. Warner, a celebrated poet in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, though his name and works are now equally forgotten. The reader will find some account of him in book v. song 24. The following stanzas are printed from the author's improved edition of his work, printed in 1602, 4to; the third impression of which appeared so early as 1592, in bl. let. 4to. The edition in 1602 is in thirteen books, and so it is reprinted in 1612, 4to ; yet in 1606, was published " A Continuance of Albion's England by the first Author, W. W. Lond. 4to:" this contains books xiv., xv., xvi. In Ames's Typography, is preserved the memory of another publication of this writer's, entitled Warner'* Poetry, printed in 1580, 12mo, and re- printed in 1602. There is also extant under the name of Warner, " Syrix, or sevenfold Hist, pleasant, and profitable, comical, and tragical," 4to. It is proper to premise, that the following lines were not written by the author in stanzas, but in long Alexandrines of fourteen syllables ; which the narrowness of OUT page made it here necessary to subdivide. THE PATIENT COUNTESS. 211 IMPATIENCE chaungeth smoke to flame, But jelousie is hell ; Some wives by patience have reduc'd 111 husbands to live well : As did the ladie of an earle, 5 Of whom I now shall tell. An earle ' there was ' had wedded, lov'd j Was lov'd, and lived long Full true to his fayre countesse ; yet At last he did her wrong. 10 Once hunted he untill the chace, Long fasting, and the heat Did house him in a peakish graunge Within a forest great. Where knowne and welcom'd (as the place 15 And persons might afforde) Browne bread, whig, bacon, curds and milke Were set him on the borde. A cushion made of lists, a stoole Halfe backed with a hoope 20 Were brought him, and he sitteth down Besides a sorry coupe. The poore old couple wisht their bread Were wheat, their whig were perry, Their bacon beefe, their milke and curds 25 Were creame, to make him merry. Meane while (in russet neatly clad, With linen white as swanne, Herselfe more white, save rosie where The ruddy colour raune : 30 Whome naked nature, not the aydes Of arte made to excell) The good man's daughter sturres to see That all were feat and well. The earle did marke her and admire 35 Such beautie there to dwell. 212 THE PATIENT COUNTEriS. Yet fals he to their homely fare And held him at a feast ; But as his hunger slaked, so An amorous heat increast. 40 When this repast was past and thanks And welcome too, he sayd Unto his host and hostesse, in The hearing of the mayd, " Yee know," quoth he, " that I am lord 45 Of this, and many townes ; I also know that you be poore, And I can spare you pownes. " Soe will I, so yee will consent, That yonder lasse and I 50 May bargaine for her love ; at least Doe give me leave to trye. Who needs to know it ? nay who dares Into my doings pry ?" First they mislike, yet at the length 55 For lucre were misled ; And then the gamesome earle did wowe The damsell for his bed. He took her in his armes, as yet So coyish to be kist, 60 As mayds that know themselves belov'd, And yieldingly resist. In few, his offers were so large She lastly did consent ; With whom he lodged all that night, 65 And early home he went. He tooke occasion oftentimes In such a sort to hunt. Whom when his lady often mist, Contrary to his wont, 70 THE PATIENT COUNTESS. 213 And lastly was informed of His amorous haunt elsewhere ; It greev'd her not a little, though She seem'd it well to beare. And thus she reasons with herselfe, 75 " Some fault perhaps in me ; Somewhat is done, that soe he doth : Alas ! what may it be ? " How may I winne him to myself? He is a man, and men 80 Have imperfections ; it behooves Me pardon nature then. " To checke him were to make him checke, 1 Although hee now were chaste : A man controuled of his wife, 85 To her makes lesser haste. " If duty then, or daliance may Prevayle to alter him ; I will be dutifull and make My selfe for daliance trim." 90 So was she, and so lovingly Did entertaine her lord, As fairer or more faultles none Could be for bed or bord. Yet still he loves his leiman and 95 Did still pursue that game, Suspecting nothing less, than that His lady knew the same : Wherefore to make him know she knew, She this device did frame : 100 When long she had been wrong'd, and sought The foresayd meanes in vaine, She rideth to the simple graunge With but a slender trame. 1 To check is a term in falconry, applied when a hawk stops ana turns away from his proper pursuit. To check also signifies to reprove or chide. It is in this verse used in both senses. 214 THE PATIENT COUNTESS. She lighteth, entreth, greets them well, 105 And then did looke about her ; The guiltie houshold knowing her, Did wish themselves -without her ; Yet, for she looked merily, The lesse they did misdoubt her. 110 When she had seen the beauteous wench, (Then blushing fairnes fairer), Such beauty made the countesse hold Them both excus'd the rather. Who would not bite at such a bait ? 115 Thought she : and who (though loth) So poore a wench, but gold might tempt ? Sweet errors led them both. Scarce one in twenty that had bragg'd Of proffer'd gold denied, 120 Or of such yeelding beautie baulkt, But, tenne to one, had lied. Thus thought she : and she th s declares Her cause of coming thether : " My Lord, oft hunting in these partes, 12 Through travel, night, or wether, " Hath often lodged in your house ; I thanke you for the same ; For why ? it doth him jolly ease To lie so neare his game. 130 " But, for you have not furniture Beseeming such a guest, I bring his owne, and come myselfe To see his lodging drest." With that two sumpters were discharg'd, 135 In which were hangings brave, Silke coverings, curtens, carpets, plate, And al such turn should have. THE PATIENT COUNTESS. 215 When all was handsomly dispos'd, She prayes them to have care 140 That nothing hap in their default, That might his health impair. " And, damsell," quoth shee, " for it seemes This household is but three, And for thy parents age, that this 145 Shall chiefely rest on thee ; " Do me that good, else would to God Ho hither come no more." So tooke she horse, and ere she went Bestowed gould good store. 150 Full little thought the countie that His countesse had done so, Who, now return'd from far affaires, Did to his sweet-heart go. No sooner sat he foote within 155 The late deformed cote, But that the formall change of things His wondring eies did note. But when he knew those goods to be His proper goods ; though late, 160 Scarce taking leave, he home returnes The matter to debate. The countesse was a-bed, and he With her his lodging tooke. " Sir, welcome home " (quoth shee), " this night 165 For you I did not looke." Then did he question her of such His stuffe bestowed soe. " Forsooth," quoth she, " because I did Your love and lodging knowe : 170 ** Your love to be a proper wench, Your lodging not i. ing lesse ; I held it for your health, the house More decently to dresse. 216 DOWSABELL. " Well wot I, notwithstanding her, 175 Your Lordship loveth me ; And greater hope to hold you such By quiet, then brawles, ' you ' see. " Then for my duty, your delight, And to retaine your favour, 180 All done I did, and patiently Expect your wonted 'haviour." Her patience, witte and answer wrought His gentle teares to fall : When (kissing her a score of times), 185 " Amend, sweet wife, I shall." He said, and did it : 'so each wife Her husband may ' recall. VII. The following stanzas were written by Michael Drayton, a poet of some eminence in the reigns of Queen Elizabeth, James I., and Charles I. 1 They are inserted in one of his Pastorals, the first edition of which bears this whimsical title. " Idea. The Shepheards Garland fashioned in nine Eglogs. Rowlands sacrifice to the nine muses. Lond. 1593, 4to. ' They are inscribed with the author's name at length, " To the noble and valerous gentleman master Robert Dudley," &c. It is very remarkable, that when Drayton reprinted them in the first folio edition of his works, 1619, he had given those Eclogues so thorough a revisal, that there is hardly a line to be found the same as in the old edition. This poem had received the fewest corrections, and therefore is chiefly given from the ancient copy, where it is thus introduced by one of his shepherds : " Listen to mee, my lovely shepheards joye, And thou shalt heare, with mirth and mickle glee, A prettie tale, which when I was a boy, My toothles grandame oft hath tolde to me." The author has professedly imitated the style and metre of some of the 1 He was born in 1563, and died in 1631. Biog. Brit. DOWBABELL. 217 old metrical romances particularly that of Sir Isenbras,* (alluded to in v. 3,) as the reader may judge from the following specimen: " Lordynges, lysten, and you shal hee," &c. * * * * " Ye shall well heare of a knight, That was in warre full wyght, And doughtye of his dede : His name was Syr Isenbras, 10 Man nobler then he was Lyved none with breade. He was lyvely, large, and longe, With shoulders broade, and armes stronge, That myghtie was to se : 15 He was a hardye man, and hye, All men hym loved that hym se, For a gentyll knight was he : Harpers loved him in hall, With other minstrells all, 20 For he gave them golde and fee," &c. This ancient legend was printed in black letter, 4to, Coulairtf : no date. In the Cotton Library (Calig. A. 2), is a MS. copy of me same romance containing the greatest variations. They are probably two different translations of some French original. FARRE in the count iey of Arden, There won'd a knight, hight Cassemen, As bolde as Isenbras ; Fell was he and eger bent, In battell and in tournament, 5 As was the good Sir Topas. He had, as antique stories tell, A daughter cleaped Dowsabel, A mayden fayre and free ; And for she was her father's heire, 10 Full well she \\ as y-cond the leyre Of mickle curtesie. The silke well couth she twist and twine, And make the fine march-pine, And with the needle werke ; 15 And she could helpe the priest to say His mattins on a holy-day, And sing a psalme in kirke. * As alsj Chaucer's Rhyme of Sir Topas, v. 6. 218 DOWSABELL. She ware a frock of frolicke greene, Might well beseeme a mayden queene, 20 Which seemly was to see ; A hood to that so neat and fine, In colour like the colombino, Y-wrought full featously. Her features all as fresh above, 25 As is the grasse that growes by Dove, And lyth as lasse of Kent. Her skin as soft as Lemster wooll, As white as snow on Peakish Hull, Or swanne that swims in Trent. 30 This mayden in a morne betime Went forth, when May was in her prime, To get swsete cetywall, The honey-suckle, the harlocke, The lilly and the lady-smocke. 35 To deck her summer hall. Thus, as she wandred here and there, Y-picking of the bl >omed breere, She chanced to espie A shepheard sitting on a bancke, 40 Like chanteclere he crowed crancke, And pip'd full merrilie. He lear'd his sheepe as he him list, When he would whistle in his fist, To feede about him round ; 45 Whilst he full many a carroll sung, Untill the fields and meadowes rung, And all the woods did sound. In favour this same shepheards swayne Was like the bedlam Tambuiiayue, 3 50 Which helde prowd kings in awe ; But meeke he was as lamb mought be ; And innocent of ill as he * Whom his lewd brother slaw. s Alluding to Tamburlaine the Great, or the Scythian Shepheard, 1590, 8vo, an old ranting play ascribed to Marlowe. * Sc. Abel. DOWSABELL. 219 The shepheard ware a sheepe-gray cloke, 55 Which was of the finest loke, That could be cut with sheere. His mittens were of bauzens skinne, His cockers were of cordiwin, His hood of meniveere. 60 His aule and lingell in a thong, His tar-boxe on his broad belt hong, His breech of coyntrie blewe. Full crispe and curled were his lockes, His browes as white as Albion rocks : 65 So like a lover true. And pyping still he spent the day, So merry as the popingay ; Which liked Dowsabel ; That would she ought, or would she nought, 70 This lad would never from her thought, She in love-longing fell. At length she tucked up her frocke, White as a lilly was her smocke, She drew the shepheard nye ; 75 But then the shepheard pyp'd a good, That all his sheepe forsooke their foode, To heare his melodye. " Thy sheepe," quoth she, " cannot be leahe, That have a jolly shepheards swayne, 80 The which can pipe so well." " Yea, but," sayth he, " their shepheard may, If pyping thus he pine away, In love of Dowsabel." " Of love, fond boy, take thon no keepe," 85 Quoth she ; " looke thou unto thy sheepe, Lest they should hap to stray." Quoth he, " So had I done full well, Had I not seen fayre Dowsabell Come forth to gather rnaye." 90 220 DOWSABELL. With that she gan to vaile her head, Her cheeks were like the roses red, But not a word she sayd. With that the shepheard gan to frowne, He threw his pretie pypes adowne, 95 And on the ground him layd. Sayth she, " I may not stay till night, And leave my summer-hall undight, And all for long of thee." " My coate," sayth he, " nor yet my foulde 100 Shall neither sheepe nor shepheard hould, Except thou favour mee." Sayth she, " Yet lever were I dead, Then I should lose my mayden-head, And all for love of men." 105 Sayth he, " Yet are you too unkind, If in your heart you cannot finde To love us now and then. '' And I to thee will be as kinde As Colin was to Rosalinde, 110 Of curtesie the flower." " Then will I be as true," quoth she, " As ever mayden yet might be Unto her paramour." With that she bent her snow-white knee, 115 Downe by the shepheard kneeled shee, And him she sweetely kist ; With that the shepheard whoop'd for joy, Quoth he, " Ther's never shepheards boy That ever was so blist." 120 THE FAREWELL TO LOVE. 221 VIII. Eht dfarttocll to ftobe. From Beaumont and Fletcher's play, entitled The Lover's Progress, act iii. sc. 1. ADIEU, fond love ! fare-.vell, you wanton powers ! I am free again : Thou dull disease of bloud and idle hours, Bewitching pain, Fly to fools that sigh away their time ! 5 My nobler love to heaven doth climb, And there behold beauty still young, That time can ne'er corrupt, nor death destroy ; Immortal sweetness by fair angels sung, And honour 'd by eternity and joy ! 10 There lies my love, thither my hopes aspire ; Fond love declines, this heavenly love grows higher. IX. tllns'srs anti the nvtn affords a pretty poetical contest between Pleasure and Honour. It is found at the end of " Hymen's Triumph : a pastoral tragi-cc medie," written by Daniel, and printed among his works, 4to, 1623. 1 Daniel, who was a contemporary of Draytou's, and is said to have been poet- laureate to Queen Elizabeth, was born in 1562, and died in 1619. Anne, Couutess of Dorset, Pembroke, and Montgomery (to whom Daniel had been tutor), has inserted a small portrait of him in a full length picture of herself, preserved at Appleby Castle, in Cumberland. This little poem is the rather selected for a specimen of Daniel's poetic powers, as it is omitted in the later edition of his works, 2 vols. 12mo, 1718. SYREN. " COME, worthy Greeke, Ulysses come, Possesse these shores with me, The windes and seas are troublesome, And here we may be free. V 1 In this edition it is collated with a copy printed at the end of bis " Tragedie of Cleopatra. Lend 1607," 12mo. '222 ULYSSES AND THE SYREN. Here may we sit and view their toyle, 5 That travaile in the deepe, Enjoy the day in mirth the while. And spend the night in sleepe." ULYSSES. " Faire nymph, if fame or honour were To be attain'd with ease, 10 Then would I come and rest with thee, And leave such toiles as these ; But here it d \vels, and here must I With danger seek it forth ; To spend the time luxuriously 15 Becomes not men of worth." SYREN. " Ulysses, be not deceiv'd With that unreall name ; This honour is a thing conceiv'd, And rests on others fame. 20 Begotten only to molest Our peace, and to beguile (The best thing of our life) our rest, And give us up to toyle ! " ULYSSES. " Delicious nymph, suppose there were 25 Nor honour, nor report, Yet manlinesse would scorne to weare The time in idle sport ; For toyle doth give a better touch To make us feele our joy ; 30 And ease findes tediousnes, as much As labour yeelds annoy." SYREN. '' Then pleasure likewise seemes the shore Whereto tendes all your toyle ; Which you forego to make it more, 35 And perish oft the while. ULYSSES AND THE SYREN. 223 Who may disport them diversely, Find never tedious day ; And ease may have variety, As well as action may." 40 ULYSSES. " But natures of the noblest frame These toyles and dangers please ; And they take comfort in the same, As much as you in ease, And with the thought of actions past 45 Are recreated still ; When pleasure leaves a touch at last To shew that it was ill." SYREN. " That doth opinion only cause, That's out of custom bred ; 50 Which makes us many other laws Than ever nature did. No widdowes waile for our delights, Our sports are without blood ; The world we see by warlike wights 55 Receives more hurt than good." ULYSSES. " But yet the state of things require These motions of unrest, And these great spirits of high desire Seem borne to turne them best ; 60 To purge the mischiefes, that increase And all good order mar ; For oft we see a wicked peace, To be well chang'd for war." SYREN. " Well, well, Ulysses, then I see 65 I shall not have thee here ; And therefore I will come to thee, And take my fortune there. 224 CUPID'S PASTIME. , I must be wonnc that cannot win, Yet lost were I not wonne ; 70 For beauty hath created bin 1" undoo or be undone." X. This beautiful poem, which possesses a classical elegance hardly to be expected in the age of James I., is printed from the fourth edition of Davison's Poems, 1 &c., 1621. It is also found in a later miscellany, entitled Le Prince d Amour, 1660, bvo. Francis Davison, editor of the poems above referred to, was son of that unfortunate secretary of state, who suffered so much from the affair of Mary, Queen of Scots. These poems, he tells us in his preface, were written by himself, by his brother [Walter], who was a soldier in the wars of the Low Countries, and by some dear friends " anoiiymoi." Among them are found some pieces by Sir J. Davis, the Countess of Pembroke, Sir Philip Sidney, Spenser, and other wits of those times. In the fourth volume of Di ydeu's Miscellanies, this poem is attributed to Sidney Godolphin, Esq., but erroneously, being probably written before he was born. One edition of Davison's book was published in 1608. Godolphin was born in 1610, and died in 1642-3. 4to. Ox. ii. 23. IT chanc'd of late a shepherd swain, That went to seek his straying sheep, Within a thicket on a plain Espied a dainty nymph asleep. Her golden hair o'erspred her face ; 5 Her careless arms abroad were cast ; Her quiver had her pillows place ; Her breast lay bare to every blast. The shepherd stood and gaz'd his fill ; Nought durst he do ; nought durst he say ; 10 Whilst chance, or else perhaps his will, Did guide the god of love that way. The crafty boy thus sees her sleep, Whom if she wak'd he durst not see, Behind her closely seeks to creep, 15 Before her nap should ended bee. 1 See the full title in book ri. no. ir. CUPID'S PASTIME. 225 There come, he steals her shafts away, And puts his own into their place Nor dares he any longer stay, But, ere she wakes, hies thence apace. 20 Scarce was he gone, but she awakes, And spies the shepherd standing by ; Her bended bow in haste she takes, And at the simple swain lets flye. Forth flew the shaft and pierc'd his heart, 25 That to the ground he fell with pain ; Yet up again forthwith he start, And to the nymph he ran amain. Amazed to see so strange a sight, She shot, and shot, but all in vain ; 30 The more his wounds, the more his might, Love yielded strength amidst his pain. Her angry eyes were great with tears, She blames her hand, she blames her skill ; The bluntness of her shafts she fears, 35 And try them on herself she will. Take heed, sweet nymph, trye not thy shaft, Each little touch will pierce thy heart ; Alas ! thou know'st not Cupids craft ; Eevenge is joy : the end is smart. 40 Yet try she will, and pierce some bare ; Her hands were glov'd, but next to hand Was that fair breast, that breast so rare, That made the shepherd senseless stand. That breast she pierc'd ; and through that breast 45 Love found an entry to her heart ; At feeling of this new-come guest, Lord ! how this gentle nymph did start ! She runs not now ; she shoots no more ; Away she throws both shaft and bow ; 50 She seeks for what she shunn'd before, She thinks the shepherds haste too alow. VOL. i. Q 226 THE CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE. Though mountains meet not, lovers may ; What other lovers do, did they ; The god of love sate on a tree, 55 And laughed that pleasant sight to see. XI. Cf)e Character of a ??app tlife. This little moral poem was writ by Sir Henry Wotton, who dial Provost of Eton, in 1639, ^Et. 72. It is printed from a little collection of his pieces, entitled Eeliquix Wottont'anx, 1651, 12mo, compared with one or two other copies. How happy is he born and taught That serveth not anothers will ; Whose armour is his honest thought, And simple truth his highest skill ; Whose passions not his masters are ; 5 Whose soul is still prepar'd for death, Not ty'd unto the world with care Of princes ear, or vulgar breath ; Who hath his life from rumours freed ; Whose conscience is his strong retreat ; 10 Whose state can neither flatterers feed, Nor mine make oppressors great ; Who envies none whom chance doth raise, Or vice ; who never understood How deepest wounds are given with praise, 15 Nor rules of state, but rules of good. Who God doth late and early pray More of his grace than gifts to lend, And entertaines the harmless day With a well-chosen book or friend ! 20 This man is freed from servile bands Of hope to rise or feare to fall ; Lord of himselfe, though not of lands, And having nothing, yet hath all. GILDEEOY. 227 XIL was a famous robber, who lived about the middle of the last century, if we may credit the histories and story-books of highwaymen, which relate many improbable feats of him, as his robbing Cardinal Richelieu, Oliver Cromwell, &c. But these stories have probably no other autho rity than the records of Grub-street ; at least the Gilderoy, who is the hero of Scottish songsters, seems to have lived in an earlier age ; for, in Thompson's Orpheus Caledonius, vol. ii. 1733, 8vo, is a copy of this ballad, which, though corrupt and interpolated, contains some lines that appear to be of genuine antiquity : in these he is represented as contemporary with Mary, Queen of Scots : ex. gr. " The Queen of Scots possessed nought, That my love let me want : For cow and ew to me he brought, And ein whan they were scant." These lines, perhaps, might safely have been inserted among the following stanzas, which are given from a written copy, that seems tc have received some modern corrections. Indeed the common populai ballad contained some indecent luxuriances that required the pruning- hook. GILDEROY was a bonnie boy, Had roses tull his shoone ; His stockings were of silken soy, Wi' garters hanging doune. It was, I weene, a comelie sight, 5 To see sae trim a boy ; He was my jo and hearts delight, My handsome Gilderoy. O ! sike twa charming een he had, A breath as sweet as rose ; 10 He never ware a Highland plaid, But costly silken clothes. He gain'd the luve of ladies gay, Nane eir tull him was coy : Ah, wae is mee ! I mourn the day, 15 For my dear Gilderoy. Q 2 228 GILDEBOT. My Gilderoy and I were born Baith in one toun together ; We scant were seven years, beforn We gan to luve each other ; 20 Our dadies and our mammies, thay Were fill'd wi' mickle joy, To think upon the bridal day 'Twixt me and Gilderoy. For Gilderoy, that luve of mine, 25 Gude faith, 1 freely bought A wedding sark of holland fine, Wi' silken flowers wrought ; And he gied me a wedding ring, Which I receiv'd wi' joy ; 30 Nae lad nor lassie eir could sing, Like me and Gilderoy. Wi' mickle joy we spent our prime, Till we were baith sixteen, And aft we passed the langsome time, 35 Among the leaves sae green ; Aft on the banks we'd sit us thair, And sweetly kiss and toy ; Wi' garlands gay wad deck my hair My handsome Gilderoy. 40 ! that he still had been content Wi' me to lead his life ; But ah, his manfu' heart was beut To stir in feates of strife : And he in many a venturous deed 45 His courage bauld wad try, And now this gars mine heart to bleed For my dear Gilderoy. And when of me his leave he tuik, The tears they wat mine ee ; 50 1 gave tull him a parting luik, " My benison gang wi' thee ! GILDEROY. 223 God speid thee weil, mine ain dear heart, For gane is all my joy ; My heart is rent sith we maun part, 55 My handsome Gilderoy." My Gilderoy, baith far and near, Was fear'd in every toun, And bauldly bare away the gear Of many a lawland loun. 60 Nane eir durst meet him man to man, He was sae brave a boy ; At length wi' numbers he was tane, My winsome Gilderoy. Wae worth the loun that made the laws, 65 To hang a man for gear ; To 'reave of life for ox or ass, For sheep, or horse, or mare ! Had not their laws been made sae strick, I neir had lost my joy, 70 Wi' sorrow neir had wat my cheek For my dear Gilderoy. Giff Gilderoy had done amisse, He mought hae bauisht been ; Ah ! what sair cruelty is this, 75 To hang sike handsome men I To hang the flower o' Scottish land, Sae sweet and fair a boy ! Nae lady had sae white a hand As thee, my Gilderoy. 80 Of Gilderoy sae fraid they were, They bound him miclde strong ; Tull Edenburrow they led him thair, And on a gallows hung : They hung him high aboon the rest, 85 He was sae trim a boy ; Thair dyed the youth whom I lued best, My handsome Gilderoy. 230 WINIFKEDA. Thus having yielded up his breath, I bare his corpse away ; 90 Wi' tears that trickled for his death I washt his comelye clay ; And siker in a grave sae deep, I laid the dear-lued boy, And now for evir maun I weep 95 My winsome Gilderoy. XIII. This beautiful address to conjugal love, a subject too much neglected by the libertine Muses, was, I believe, first printed in a volume of " Miscellaneous Poems, by several hands, published by D. [David] Lewis, 1726." 8vo. It is there said, how truly I know not, to be a translation " from the ancient British language." AWAY ; let nought to love displeasing, My Winifreda, move your care ; Let nought delay the heavenly blessing, Nor squeamish pride, nor gloomy fear. What tho' no grants of royal donors 5 With pompous titles grace our blood ; We'll shine in more substantial honors, And to be noble we'll be good. Our name, while virtue thus we tender, Will sweetly sound where-e'er 'tis spoke ; 10 And all the great ones, they shall wonder How they respect such little folk. What though from fortune's lavish bounty No mighty treasures we possess ; We'll find within our pittance plenty, 15 And be content without excess. THE WITCH OF WOKKY. 231 Still shall each returning season Sufficient for our wishes give ; For we will live a life of reason, And that's the only life to live. 20 Through youth and age in love excelling, We'll hand in hand together tread ; Sweet-smiling peace shall crown our dwelling, And babes, sweet smiling babes, our bed. How should I love the pretty creatures, 25 While round my knees they fondly clung ; To see them look their mothers features. To hear them lisp their mothers tongue. And when with envy time, transported, Shall think to rob us of our joys, 30 You'll in your girls again be courted, And I'll go a wooing in my boys. XIV. f)e snn e Christianos y de Moros Muertos por la dura espada ! ' Y tus ondas cristalinas 5 De roxa sangre se esmaltan : Entre moros y Christianos Muy gran batalla se trava. ' Murieron Dnques y Condes, Grandes seiiores de salva : 10 Murio gente de valia De la nobleza de Espana. * En ti murio Don Alouso, Que de Aguilar se llaraaba ; El valeroso Urdiales, 15 Con Don Alonso acabada. ' Por un ladera arriba El buen Sayavedra marcha ; Naturel es de Sevilla, De la gente mas granada. 20 4 Tras el iba un Renegado, Desta manera le habla ; " Date, date, Sayavedra, No huyas de la batalla. " ' Yo te conozco muy bien, 25 Gran tiempo estuve en tu casa Y en la Plaga de Sevilla Bien te vide jugar caiias. ' ' Conozco a tu padre y madre, Y a tu muger Doiia Clara ; 30 Siete aiios fui tu cautivo, Malamente me tratabas. " ' Y aura lo seras mio, Si Mahoma me ayudara , Y tambien te tratare, 35 Como a mi me a tratalias." GENTLE RIVEB, GENTLE BIVEE. 239 GENTLE river, gentle river, Lo, thy streams are stained with gore, Many a brave and noble captain Floats along thy willow'd shore. All beside thy limpid waters, 5 All beside thy sands so bright, Moorish chiefs and Christian warriors Join'd in fierce and mortal fight. Lords, and dukes, and noble princes On thy fatal banks were slain : 10 Fatal banks that gave to slaughter All the pride and flower of Spain There the hero, brave Alonzo, Full of wounds and glory died ; There the fearless Urdiales 15 Fell a victim by his side. Lo ! where yonder Don Saavedra Thro' their squadrons slow retires ; Proud Seville, his native city, Proud Seville his worth admires. 20 Close behind a renegado Loudly shouts with taunting cry : " Yield thee, yield thee, Don Saavedra, Dost thou from the battle fly ? " Well I know thee, haughty Christian, 25 Long I lived beneath thy roof; Oft I've in the lists of glory Seen thee win the prize of proof. " Well I know thy aged parents, Well thy blooming bride I know ; 30 Seven years I was thy captive, Seven years of pain and woe. " May our prophet grant my wishes, Haughty chief, thou shalt be mine ; Thou shalt drink that cup of sorrow, 35 Which I drank when I was thine." 24C EIO VERDE, RIO VERDE. * Sayavedra que lo oyera, Al Moro bolvio la cara ; Tirole el Mora una flecha, Pero nunca le acertaba. 40 ' Hiriole Sayavedra De una herida muy mala : Muerto cayo el renegade Sin poder hablar palabra. ' Sayavedra fue cercado 45 De mucha Mora canalla, Y al cabo cayo alii muerto De una muy mala langada. ' Don Alonso en este tiempo Bravamente peleava, 50 Y el cavallo le avian muerto, Y le tiene por muralla. ' Mas cargaron tantos Moros Que mal le hieren y tratan : De la sangre, que perdia, 55 Don Alonso se desmaya. ' Al fin, al fin cayo muerto Al pie de un pena alta. Muerto queda Don Alonso, Eterna fama ganara.' 60 GENTLE BIVER, GENTLE BIVEB. 241 Like a lion turns the warrior, Back he sends an angry glare ; Whizzing caine the Moorish javelin, Vainly whizzing thro' the air. 40 Back the hero full of fury Sent a deep and mortal wound : Instant sunk the renegade Mute and lifeless on the ground. With a thousand Moors surrounded, 45 Brave Saavedra stands at bay ; Wearied out but never daunted, Cold at length the warrior lay. Near him fighting great Alonzo Stout resists the paynim bands ; 50 From his slaughter'd steed dismounted Firm intrench'd behind him stands. Furious press the hostile squadron, Furious he repels their rage ; Loss of blood at length enfeebles : 55 Who can war with thousands wage ! Where yon rock the plain o'ershadows, Close beneath its foot retir'd, Fainting sunk the bleeding hero. And without a groan expir'd. 60 %* In the Spanish original of the foregoing ballad follow a few more itanzHS, but being of inferior merit were not translated. Renegado properly signifies an apostate, but it is Sometimes used to express an infidel in general ; as it seems to do above in ver. 21, &c. The image of the lion, &c., in ver. 87, is taken from the other Spanish copy, the rhymes of which end in ia, yiz. " Sayavedra, que lo oyera, Como un leon rebolbia." VOL. I. 242 ALCANZOll AND ZAfDA. XVIT. r autt Zawtta. A MOORISH TALE. IMITATED FROM THE SPANISH. The foregoing version was rendered as literal as the nature of the two languages would admit. In the following a widur compass hath been taken. The Spanisli poem that was chiefly had in view, is preserved in the same history of the civil wars of Granada, f. 22, and begins with these liues, " For la calle de su dama Passeando se anda," &c. SOFTLY blow the evening breezes, Softly falls the dews of night; Yonder walks the Moor Alcanzor, Shunning every glare of light. In yon palace lives fair Zaida, 5 Whom he loves with flame so pure : Loveliest she of Moorish ladies ; He a young and noble Moor. Waiting for the appointed minute, Oft he paces to and fro ; 10 Stopping now, now moving forwards, Sometimes quick and sometimes slow. Hope and fear alternate teaze him, Oft he sighs with heartfelt care. See, fond youth, to yonder window 15 Softly steps the timorous fair. Lovely seems the moon's fair lustre To the lost, benighted swain, When all silvery bright she rises, Gilding mountain, grove, and plain. 20 ALCANZOB AND ZATDA. 243 Lovely seems the sun's full glory To the fainting seaman's eyes, When some horrid storm dispersing, O'er the wave his radiance flies. But a thousand times more lovely 25 To her longing lover's sight, Steals half-seen the beauteous maiden Thro' the glimmerings of the night. Tip-toe stands the anxious lover, Whispering forth a gentle sigh : 30 " Alia l keep thee, lovely lady : Tell me, am I doom'd to die ? " Is it true, the dreadful story Which thy damsel tells my page, That, seduc'd by sordid riches, 35 Thou wilt sell thy bloom to age ? " An old lord from Antiquera Thy stern father brings along ; But canst thou, inconstant Zaida, Thus consent my love to wrong ? 40 " If 'tis true now plainly tell me, Nor thus trifle with my woes ; Hide not then from me the secret, Which the world so clearly knows." Deeply sighed the conscious maiden, 45 While the pearly tears descend : " Ah ! my Lord, too true the story ; Here our tender loves must end. " Our fond friendship is discover'd, Well are known our mutual vows ; 50 All my friends are full of fury : Storms of passion shake the house. *' Threats, reproaches, fears surround me; My stern father breaks my heart ; Alia knows how dear it costs me, 55 Generous youth, from thee to part. Alia is the Mahometan name of God. R 2 244 ALCANZOR AND ZATDA. " Ancient wounds of hostile fury Long have rent our house and thine ; Why then did thy shining merit Win this tender heart of mine ? 60 " Well thou know'st how dear I lov'd thee Spite of all their hateful pride, Tho' I fear'd my haughty father Ne'er would let me be thy bride. " Well thou know'st what cruel chidings 65 Oft I've from my mother borne ; What I've suffer'd here to meet thee Still at eve and early morn. " I no longer may resist them ; All, to force my hand, combine ; 70 And to-morrow to thy rival This weak frame I must resign. Yet think not thy faithful Zaida Can survive so great a wrong ; Well my breaking heart assures me 75 That my woes will not be long. " Farewell then, my dear Alcanzor ! Farewell too my life with thee ! Take this scarf, a parting token ; When thou wear'st it think on me. 80 " Soon, lov'd youth, some worthier maiden Shall reward thy generous truth ; Sometimes tell her how thy Zaida Died for thee in prime of youth." To him all amaz'd, confounded, S5 Thus she did her woes impart : Deep he sigh'd, then cry'd, " Zaida ! Do not, do not break my heart. " Canst thou think I thus will lose thee ? Canst thou hold my love so small ? 90 No ! a thousand times I'll perish ! My curst rival too shall fall. ALCANZOB AND ZAYDA. 245 " Canst thou, wilt tliou yield thus to them ? O break forth, and fly to me ! This fond heart shall bleed to save thee, 95 The.se fond arms shall shelter thee." " 'Tis in vain, in vain, Alcanzor, Spies surround me, bars secure ; Scarce I steal this last dear moment, While my damsel keeps the door. 100 " Hark, I hear my father storming I Hark, I hear my mother chide I I must go : farewell for ever I Gracious Alia be thy guide 1 " SKI* OF TUB TFTBD WX. 246 BOOK IV. 1. of 14 A ballad made by one of the adherents to Simon de Montfort Earl of Leicester, soon after the battle of Lewes, which was fought May 14, 1264," affords a curious specimen of ancient satire, and shows that the liberty assumed by the good people of this realm, of abusing their kings and princes at pleasure, is a privilege of very long standing. To render this antique libel intelligible, the reader is to understand that just before the battle of Lewes, which proved so fatal to the interests of Henry III., the barons had offered his brother Richard, King of the Romans, 30,OOOZ. to procure a peace upon such terms us would liave divested Henry of all his regal power, and therefore the treaty proved abortive. The consequences of that battle are well known : the king, Prince Edward his son, his brother Riciiard, and many of his friends, fell into the hands of their enemies ; while two great barons of the king's party, John, Earl of Warren, and Hugh Bigot, the king's Justiciary, had been glad to escape into France. In the 1st stanza the aforesaid sum of 30.000Z. is alluded to ; but, with the usual misrepresentation of paity malevolence, is asserted to have been the exorbitant demand of the king's brother. With regard to the 2nd stanza, the reader is to note that Richard, along with the earldom of Cornwall, had the honours of Wallingford and Eyre confirmed to him on his marriage with Sanchia, daughter of the Count of Provence, in 1243. Windsor Castle was the chief fortress belonging to the king, and had been garrisoned by foreigners; a circumstance which furnishes out the burthen of each stanza. The 3rd stanza alludes to a remarkable circumstance which happened on the day of the battle of Lewes. After the battle was lost, Richard, King of the Romans, took refuge in a windmill, which he barricadoed, and maintained for some time against the barons, but in the evening was obliged to surrender. See a very full account of this in the Chronicle of Mailros. Oson. 1684, p. 229. The 4th stanza is of obvious interpretation ; Richard, who had been elected king of the Romans in 1256, and had afterwards gone over to take possession of his dignity, was in the year 1259 about to return into England, when the barons raised a popular clamour, that he was bring- ing with him foreigners to overrun ti.e kingdom : upon which he was RICHAKD OF ALMAIGNB. 24"? forced to dismiss almost nil his followers, otherwise the barons would have opposed his landing. In the 5th stanza, the writer regrets the escape of the Earl of Warren ; and in the 6th and 7th stanzas, insinuates that, if he and Sir Hugh Bigot once fell into the hands of their adversaries, they should never more return home : a circumstance which fixes the date of this ballad ; for, in the year 1265, both these noblemen landed in South Wales, and the royal party soon after gained the ascendant. See Holinshed, Bapin, Ac. The following is copied from a very ancient MS. in the British Museum. [Harl. MSS. 2253, s. 23.] This MS. is judged, from the peculiarities of the writing, to be not later than the time of Richard II. ; th being everywhere expressed by the character )> ; the y is pointed, after the Saxon manner, and the i hath an oblique stroke over it. Prefixed to this ancient libel on government was a small design, which the engraver intended should correspond with the subject. On the one side a Satyr (emblem of Petulance and Ridicule) is trampling on the ensigns of Royalty ; on the other, Faction, under the mask of Liberty, is exciting Ignorance and Popular Rage to deface the royal image, which stands on a pedestal inscribed MAGNA CHAKTA, to denote that the rights of the king, as well as those of the people, are founded on the laws ; and that to attack one, is in effect to demolish both. SITTETH alle stille, ant herkneth to me ; The Kyng of Aleraaigne, bi mi leaute, Thritti thousent pound askede he For te make the pees in the countre, Ant so he dude mora. 5 Richard, thah thou be ever trichard, Tricthen shalt thou never more. Richard of Alemaigne, whil that he wes tying, He spende al is tresour opon swyvyng, Haveth he nout of Walingford oferlyng, 1C Let him habbe, ase he brew, bale to dryng, Maugre Wyndesore, Richard, thah thou be ever, &c. The Kyng of Alemaigne wende do ful wel, He saisede the mulne for a castel. 15 With hare sharpe swerdes he grounde the stel. He wende that the sayles were mangonel To helpe Wyndesore. Richard thah thou be ever, Ac Vei 2, kyn. MS. 248 RICHARD OP ALMAIGNX. The Kyng of Alemaigno gederede ys host, 20 Makede him a castel of a mulne post, Wende with is prude, ant is muchele host, Brohte from Alemayne mony sori gost To store Wyndesore. Eichard, thah thou be ever, &c. 25 By God, that is aboven ous, he dude muche synne, That lette passen over see the Erl of Warynne : He hath robbed Engelond, the mores, ant th ferine, The gold, ant the selver, and y-boren henne, For love of Wyndesore. 30 Eichard, thah thou be ever, &o. Sire Simond de Mountfort hath suore bi ys chyn, Hevede he nou here the Erl of Waryn, Shuld he never more come to is yn, Ne with sheld, ne with spere, ne with other gyn, 35 To help of Wyndesore. Eichard, thah thou be ever, &c. Sire Simond de Monfort hath suore bi ys cop, Hevede he nou here Sire Hue de Bigot : Al he shulde grante here twelfmoneth scot 40 Shulde he never more with his sot pot To helpe Wyndesore. Eichard, thah thou be ever, &c. Be the luef, be the loht, Sire Edward, Thou shalt ride sporeles o thy lyard 45 Al the ryhte way to Dovere-ward, Shalt thou never more breke foreward ; Ant that reweth sore Edward, thou dudest as a shreward, Forsoke thyn ernes lore. 50 Eichard, &c. V. 40, g'te here. MS. t. e. grant their. Vide Gios. V. 44, this stanza was omitted in the former editions. %* This ballad will rise in its importance with the reader, when he finds that it is eveu believed to have occasioned a law in our Statute- Book, viz. " Against slanderous reports or tales, to cause discord betwixt ON THE DEATH OF K. EDWABD THE FIBST. 249 king and people." Wettm. Primer, c. xxxiv. anno 3 Edw. I. .That it had this effect, is the opinion of an emineut writer. See Observations upon the Statutes, &c.. 4to, .-nd edit. 1766, p. 71. However, in the Hurl. Collection may be found other satirical and defamatory rhymes of the same age, that might have their share in ontributiug to this first law against libels. II. n tijt Btati) of 8. 3afoartt tfje dFt'rSt. We have here an early attempt at Elegy. Edward I. died July 7, 1307, in the 35th year of his reign, and (59th of his age. This poem appears to have been composed soon after his death. According to the modes of thinking peculiar to those times, the writer dwells more upon his devotion, than his skill in government ; and pays less attention to the martial and political abilities of this great monarch, in which he had no equal, than to some little weaknesses of superstition, which be had in common with all his conteujr^raries. The king had in the decline of life vowed an expedition to the Holy Land; but finding his end approach, he dedicated the. sum of 32.000Z. to the maintenance of a large body of knights (140 say historians, 80 says our poet), who were to carry his heart with them into Palestine. This dying command of the kiug was never performed. Our poet, with the honest prejudices of an Englishman, attributes this failure to the advice of the king of France, whose daughter Isabel, the young monarch, who succeeded, immediately married. But the truth is, Edward and his destructive favourite, Piers Gaveston, spent the money upon their pleasures. To do the greater honour to the memory of his hero, our poet puts his eloge in the mouth of the Pope, with the same poetic licence as a more modern bard would have introduced Britannia, or the Genius of Europe, pouring forth his praises. This antique elegy is extracted from the tame MS. volume as the preceding article ; is found with the same peculiarities of writing and orthography ; and, though written nt near the distance of half a cen- tury, contains little or no variation of idiom : whereas the next following poem, by Chaucer, which was probably written not more than 50 or 60 years after this, exhibits almost a new language. This seems to countenance the opinion of some antiquaries, that this great poet made considerable innovations in his mother tongue, and introduced many terms and new modes of speech from other languages. ALLE, that beoth of huerte trewe, A stounde herkneth to iny song Of duel, that Deth hath diht us newe, That maketh me syke, ant sorewe among ; 250 ON THE DEATH O! Of a knyht, that wes so strong, 5 Of wham God hath don ys wille ; Me-thuncheth that deth hath don us wrong, That he so sone shall ligge stille. Al Englond ahte for te knowe Of wham that song is, that y synge ; 10 Of Edward Kyng, that lith so lowe, Zent al this world is nome con springe : Trewest mon of alle thinge, Ant in werre war ant wys, For him we ahte oure honden wrynge, 15 Of Christendome he ber the prys. Byfore that oure kyng was ded, He spek ase mon that wes in care, " Clerkes, knyhtes, barons," he sayde, " Y charge ou by oure sware, 20 That ye to Engelonde be trewe. Y deze, y ne may lyven na more ; Helpeth mi sone, ant crouneth him newe, For he is nest to buen y-core. " Ich biqueth myn herte arhyt, 25 That hit be write at my devys, Over the see that Hue l be diht, With fourscore knyhtes al of prys, In werre that buen war ant wys, Azein the hethene for te fyhte, 30 To wynne the croiz that lowe lys, Myself ycholde zef that y myhte." Kyng of Fraunce, thou hevedest ' sinne,' That thou the counsail woluest fonde, To latte the wille of ' Edward Kyng ' 35 ' To wende to the Holy Londe : That oure kynge hede take on honde All Engelond to zeme ant wysse, To wenden in to the Holy Londe To wynnen us heveriche blisse. 40 Ver. 33, sunne. MS. V. 35, kyng Edward. MS. 1 This is probably the name of the person who was to preside over this tnsineu, K. EDWARD THE FIRST. 251 The messager to the Popo com, And seyde that our kynge was ded : Ys oune bond the lettre he nom, Ywis his herte was full gret : The Pope him self the lettre redde, 45 Ant spec a word of gret honour. " Alas ! " he seid, " is Edward ded ? Of Christendome he her the flour." The Pope to his chaumbre wende, For dol ne mihte he speke na more ; 50 Ant after cardinals he sende, That muche couthen of Cristes lore, Bothe the lasse. ant eke the more, Bed hem bothe rede ant synge : Gret deol me myhte se thore, 55 Mony mon is honde wrynge. The Pope of Peyters stod at is masse With ful gret solempnete, Ther me con the soule blesse : " Kyng Edward honoured thou be : 60 God love thi sone come after the, Bringe to ende that thou hast bygonne, The holy crois y-mad of tree, So fain thou woldest hit hav y-wonne. " Jerusalem, thou hast i-lore 65 The flour of al chivalrie Now Kyng Edward liveth na more : Alas ! that he zet shulde deye ! He wolde ha rered up ful heyze Oure banners, that bueth broht to groundo ; 70 Wei ! longe we mowe clepe and crie Er we a such kyng han y-founde." Nou is Edward of Carnarvan Kyng of Engelond al aplyht, God lete him ner be worse man 75 Then his fader, ne lasse of myht, V. 43. ys is probably a contraction of in hys, or y* hit, V. 55, 59 me, i. e. men ; so in Robert of Gloucester, passim. 252 BALLAD BY CHAUCEB. To holden is pore men to ryht, And understonde good counsail, Al Engelong for to wysse ant dyht ; Of gode knyhtes darh him nout fail. 8(J Thah mi tonge were mad of stel, Ant min herte yzote of bras, The godness myht y never telle, That with Kyng Edward was : Kyng, as thou art cleped conquerour, 85 In uch bataille thou hadest prys ; God bringe thi soule to the honour That ever wes, ant ever ys. 2 * Here follow in the original three lines more, which, as seemingly re- dundant, are thus appended, viz. That lasteth ay withouten ende, Bidde we God, ant oure Ledy to thilke blisse Jesus us sende. Amen. III. &n original Sallatt bo CIEjauctr. This little sonnet, which hath escaped all the editors of Chaucer's works, is now printed for the first time from an ancient MS. in the Pepysian library, that contains many other poems of its venerable author. The versification is of that species which the French call fiondeau, very naturally Englished by our honest countrymen Bound O, Though so early adopted by them, our ancestors had not the honour of inventing it : Chaucer picked it up, along with other better things, among the neighbouring nations. A fondness for laborious trifles hath always prevailed in the dark ages of literature. The Greek poets have had their wings and axes . the jrreat father of English poesy may therefore be pardoned one pour solitary rondeau. Geofrey Chaucer died Oct. 25, 1400, aged 72. I. 1. YOCRE two eyn will sle me sodenly I may the beaute of them not sustene, So wendeth it thorowout my herte kene. BALLAD BY CHAUCEB. 253 2. And but your words will helen hastely My hertis wound, while that it is grene, Youre two eyn will sle me sodenly. 3. Upon my trouth I sey yow feithfully, That ye ben of my liffe and deth the queue ; For with my deth the trouth shal be sene. Youre two eyn, &c. II. 1. So hath youre beauty fro your herte chased Pitee, that me n' availeth not to pleyn : For daunger halt your mercy in his cheyne. 2. Giltless my deth thus have ye purchased ; I sey yow soth, me nedeth not to fayn : So hath your beaute fro your herte chased. 3. Alas, that nature hath in yow compassed So grete beaute, that no man may atteyn To mercy, though he sterve for the peyn, So hath youre beaute, &c. III. 1. Syn I fro love escaped am so fat, I nere thinke to ben in his prison lene ; Syn I am fre, I counte hym not a beue. 2. He may answere and sey this and that, I do no fors, I speak ryght as I mene : Syn I fro love escaped am so fat. a. Love hath my name i-strike out of his sclat, And he is strike out of my bokes clene : For ever mo ' ther ' is non other msne. Syn I fro love escaped, &c. 1 This. MS. 254 THE TURNAMKNT OF TOTTENHAM. IV. Clje Curnanunt of OB, THE WOC'EIXG, WINNING. AND WEDDING OF TIBBE, THE BEEV'8 DAVGHTER THEBE. It does honour to the good ?ense of this nation, that while all Europe was captivated with the bewitching charms of chivalry and romance, two of our writers in the rudest times could see through the false glare that surrounded them, and discover whatever was absurd in them both. Chaucer wrote his Rhyme of Sir Thopas in ridicule of the latter ; and in the following pcem we have a humorous burlesque of the former. Without pretending to decide whether the institution of chivalry was upon the whole useful or pernicious in the rude ages, a question that has lately employed many good writers, 2 it evidently encouraged a vindictive spirit, and gave such force to the custom of duelling, that there is little hope of its being abolished. This, together with the fatal consequences which often attended the diversion of the Turua- ment, was sufficient to render it obnoxious to the graver part of mankind. Accordingly the Church early denounced its censures against it, and the State was often prevailed on to attempt its suppression. But fashion and opinion are superior to authority : and the proclamations against tilting were as little regarded in those times as the laws against duel- ling are in these. This did not escape the discernment of our poet, who easily perceived that inveterate opinions must be attacked by other weapons besides proclamations and censures ; he accordingly made use of the keen one of RIDICULE. With this view he has here introduced with admirable humour a parcel of clowns, imitating all the solemnities of the Tourney. Here we have the regular challenge the appointed day the lady for the prize the formal preparations the display of armour the scutcheons and devices the oaths taken on entering the jists the various accidents of the encounter the victor leading off the prize and the magnificent ft asting with all the other solemn fopperies that usually attended the pompous turnament. And how acutely the sharpness of the author's humour must have been felt in those days, we may learn from what we can perceive of its keenness now, when time has so much blunted the edge of his ridicule. The Turnament of Tottenham was first printed from an ancient MS. in 1631, 4to, by the Rev. Whilhera Bedwell, rector of Tottenham, who was one of the translators of the Bible. He tells us it was written by Gilbert Pilkington, thought to have been sometime parson of the same parish, and author of another piece, entitled Passio Domini Jesu Ckristi. 1 It has been thought that this ballad is a burlesque upon the old feudal custom of marrying an heiress to a knight who should vanquish all his opponents, at a solemn assembly holden for that purpose. (See Gentle- man's Magazine for July, 1794, p. 613.) Editor. * See [Mr. Kurd's] "Letters on Chivalry, 8vo, 1762 Me'moire de la Chevalerie, par M. de la Curne des Palais, 1759, 2 torn. 12mo, &c. THE TURNAMENT OF TOTTENHAM. 255 Bed well, who was eminently skilled in the Oriental and other languages' appears to have been but little conversant with the ancient writers in his own ; and he so little entered into the spirit of the poem he was publishing, that he contends for its being a serious narrative of a real event, and thinks it must have been written before the time of F Award III., because turnaments were prohibited in that reign. " I ao verily believe," says he, " that this Turnament was acted before this proclama- tion of King Edward. For how durst any to attempt to do that, although in sport, which was so straightly forbidden, both by the civill and ecclesiasticall power ? For although they fought not with lances, yet, as our author sayth, ' It was no children's game.' And what would have become of him, thinke you, which should have slajne another in this manner of jeasting ? Would he not, trow you, have been hang'dfor it in earnest? yea, and have bene buried like a dnggel" It is, however, well known that turnaments were in use down to the reign of Elizabeth. In the former editions of this work, Bedwell's copy was reprinted here, with some few conjectural emendations ; but as Bedwell seemed to have reduced the orthography at least, if not the phraseology, to the standard of his own time, it was with great pleasure that the Editor wns informed of an ancient MS. copy preserved in the Museum [Harl. MSS. 5396], which appeared to have been transcribed in the reign of King Henry VI., about 1456. This obliging information the Editor owed to tlie friendship of Thomas Tyrwhitt, Esq., and he has chietJy followed that more authentic transcript, unproved however by some leadings from Bedwell's book. OF all tbes kene conquerours to carpe it were kynde Of fele feyztyng folk ferly we fynde ; The Tumament of Totenham have we in mynde ; It were harme syctt haraynes were holden byhynde, In story as we rede 5 Of Hawkyn, of Herry, Of Tomkyn, of Terry, Of them that were dughty And stalworth in dede. It befel in Totenham on a dere day, 10 Ther was mad a shurtyng be the hy-way ; Theder com al the men of the contray, Of Hyssylton, of Hy-gate, and of Hakenay, And all the swete swynkers : Ther hopped Hawkyn, 15 Ther daunsed Dawkyn, Ther trumped Tomkyn, And all were trewe drynkers. 256 THE TUBNAMENT OF TOTTENHAM. Tyl the day was gon and evyn-song past, That thay schuld reckyn ther scot and ther counts cast ; Perkyn, the potter, into the press past, 21 And sayd, " Randol, the refe, a dozter thou hast, Tyb the dere. Therfor faine wyt wold I, Whych of all thys bachelery 25 Were best worth ye To wed hur to hys fere." Upstyrt thos gadelyngys wyth ther lang staves, And sayd, " Randol, the refe, lo, thys lad raves ; Boldely amang us thy dozter he craves ; 30 We er rycher men than he, and raor gode haves, Of cattell and corn." Then sayd Perkyn, " To Tybbe I have hyzt, That I schal be alway redy in my ryat, If that it schuld be thys day sevenyzt, 5 Or elles zet to morn." Then sayd Randolfe, the refe, " Ever be he waryd That about thys carpyng lenger wold be taryd : I wold not my dozter, that scho were miscaryd, But at hur most worschip I wold scho were maryd. 40 Therfor a Turnament schal begynne Thys day sevenyzt, Wyth a flayl for to fyzt : And ' he ' that is most of myght Schal brouke hur wyth wynne. 45 " Whoso berys hym best in the turnament, Hym schal be granted the gre be the comon asuent, For to wynne my dozter wyth ' dughtynesse ' of dent, And ' Coppell ' my brode-heime, ' that ' was brozt out of Kent, And my dunnyd kowe. 50 For no spens wyl I spare, For no cattell wyl I care ; He schal have my gray mare, And my spottyd sowe." Ver. 20. It is not very clear in the MS. whether it should oe cents 01 centers. V. 48, dozty. MS. V. 49, coppeld. We still use the phrase " a copple-crowned hen." THE TUIINAMENT OF TOTTENHAM. 257 Ther wag many ' a ' bold lad ther bodyes to bede : 55 Than thuy toke tliayr leve and homward they zede, \nd all tho weke alter ward graythed ther wede, Tyll it come to the day, that thay suld do ther dede. They armed tham in matts, Thay set on ther nollys, 60 For to kepe ther pollys, Gode blake bollys, For bateryng of bats. Thay sowed tham in schepeskynnes, for thay schuld not brest, Ilk-on toke a blak hat, insted of a crest, 65 ' A basket or a panyer before on ther brest,' And a flayle in ther hande ; for to fyght prest, Furth gon thay fare. Ther was kyd mekyl fors, Who schuld best fend hys cors ; 70 He that had no gode hors, He gat hym a mare. Sych another gadryng have I not sene oft, When all the gret company com rydand to the croft ; Tyb on a gray mare was set up on loft 75 On a sek ful of fedyrs, for scho schuld syt soft, And led ' till the gap.' For cryeng of the men Forther wold not Tyb then, Tyl scho had hur brode hen 80 Set in hur Lap. A gay gyrdyl Tyb had on, borowed for the nonys, And a garland on hur bed, ful of rounde bonys, And a broche on hur brest, ful of ' sapphyre ' stonys, Wyth the holy- rode tokenyng, was wrotyn for the nonys ; 85 V. 57, gayed. P.O. V. 66 is wanting in MS. and supplied from p.c. T. 72, he borrowed him. p.c. V. 76, the MS. had once sedys, i.e. seeds, which appears to have been altered to fedyrs, or feathers. Bed well's copy has senvy, i. e. musturd-seed. V. 77, And led hur to cap. MS. V. 83, Bedwell's P.C. has ruel-bones. V. 84, safer stones. MS. V. 85, wrotyn, t. e. wrought. P.O. reads written. VOL. I. 8 258 THE TURNAMKNT OF TOTTENHAM. For no ' spendings ' thay had spared. When joly Gyb saw hur thare, He gyrd so hys gray mare, ' That scho lete a fowkin ' fare At the rereward. 90 " 1 wow to God," quoth Herry, " I schal not lefe behynde ; May I mete wyth Bernard on Bayard the blynde. Ich man kepe hym out of my wynde, For whatsoever that he be. before me I fynde, I wot I schall hym greve." 95 " Wele sayd," quoth Hawkyn, " And I wow," quoth Dawkyn, " May I mete wyth Tomkyn, Hys flayle I schal hym reve." 9 ( J " I make a vow," quoth Hud, " Tyb, son schal thou se, Whych of all thys bachelery ' granted ' is the gre. I schal scomfet thaym all, for the love of the ; In what place so I come thay schal have dout of me, Myn armes ar so clere : I bere a reddyl, and a rake, 105 Poudred wyth a brenand drake. And three cantells of a cake In ycha cornere." " I vow to God," quoth Hawkyn, " yf ' I ' have the gowt, Al that I fynde in the felde ' thrustand ' here aboute, 110 Have I tvvyes or thryes redyn thurgh the route, In ycha stede ther thay me se, of me thay schal have doute. When I begyn to play, I make avowe that I ne schall, But yf Tybbe wyl me call, 115 Or I be thryes don fall, Kyzt onys com away." V. 86. no catel [perhaps chatef] they had spared. MS. V. 89, Then . .' . faucon. MS. V. 101, grant. MS. V. 109, yf he have. MS. V. 110, the MS. literally has th'. sand here. THE TUENAMENT OF TOTTENHAM. 259 Then sayd Terry, and swore be hys credo : " Saw thou never yong boy forther hys body bede. For when thay fyzt fastest and most ar in drede, 120 I schall take Tyb by the hand and hur away lede. I am armed at the full ; In myn arrays 1 here wele A doz trogh and a pele, A sadyll wythout a panell, 125 Wyth a fles of woll." " I make a vow," quoth Dudman, and swor be the stra, " Whyls me ys left my ' mare,' thou gets hurr not swt ^ For scho ys wele schapen and lizt as the rae, Thcr is no capul in thys myle befor hur schal ga. 130 Sche wul ne nozt begyle ; Sche wyl me here, I dar say, On a lang somerys day, Fro Hyssylton to Hakenay, Nozt other half myle." 135 " I make a vow," quoth Perkyn, " thow speks of cold rost, I schal wyrch ' wyselyer ' without any host. Five of the best capulys that ar in thys ost, I wot I schal thaym wynnc, and bryng thayra to my cost. And here I grant thaym Tybbe. 140 Wele boyes here ys he, That wyl fyzt and not fle, For I am in my jolyte, Wyth so forth, Gybbe." When thay had ther vowes made, furth can thay hie, 145 Wyth flayles and homes and trumpes mad of tre. Ther were all the bachelerys of that contre : Thay were dyzt in aray, as thaymselfes wold be. Thayr baners were ful bryzt, Of an old rotten fell ; 150 The cheveron of a plow-mell, And the schadow of a bell, ' Quartred ' wyth the mone lyst. V. 128, merth. MS. V. 137, swyselior. MS. V. 146, flailes, aud harmsse. P.O. V. 151, The chiefe. P.O. V. 153, Poudred. MS. S 2 260 THE TURNAMENT OF TOTTENHAM. I wot yt ' was ' no chylder game whan thay togc dyr met, When icha freke in the feld on hys feloy bet, 155 And layd on styfly, for nothyng wold thay let, And foght ferly fast, tyll ther horses swet. And few wordy s spoken. Ther were flayles al so slatred, Ther were scheldys al to flatred, 160 Bollys and dysches al to schatred, And many hedys brokyn. Ther was clynkyng of cart-sadely s, and clatteryng of Cannes ; Of fele frekys in the feld brokyn were their fannes ; Of sum were the hedys brokyn, of sum the brayn-pannes, And yll were thay besene or thay went thanns, 166 Wyth swyppyng of swepyls. Thay were so wery for-foght, Thay rnyzt not fyzt mare oloft, But creped about in the ' croft,' 170 As thay were croked crepyls. Perkyn was so wery, that he began to loute : " Help, Hud, I am ded in thys ylk rowte ; An hors, for forty pens, a gode and a stoute, That I may lyztly come of my noye oute. 175 For no cost wyl I spare." He styrt up as a suayle. And hent a capul be the tayle, And ' reft ' Dawkin hys flayle, And wan there a mare. 1 80 Perkyn wan five, and Hud wan twa. Glad and blythe thay ware that thay had don sa ; Thay wold have tham to Tyb, and present hur with tha ; The Capulls were so wery that thay myzt not ga, But styl gon thay stond. 185 " Alas ! " quoth Hudde, " my joye I lese : Mee had lever then a ston of chese That clere Tyb had al these, And wyst it were my sond." V. 154, yt ys. MS. V. 168, The boyes were. MS. V. 170, feped then about in the croft, MS. V. 179, razt. MS. V. 185, stand. MS. V. 189, sand. M.S. THE TUBNAMENT OF TOTTENHAM. 261 Perkyn turnyd hym about in that ych thrang ; 190 Among those wery boyes he wrest and he wrang, He threw tham doun to the erth, and thrast tham amang, When he saw Tyrry away wyth Tyb fang, And after hym ran. Off his horse he hym drogh, 195 And gaf hym of hys flayl inogh. " We te he ! " quoth Tyb, and lugh : " Ye er a dughty man." ' Thus ' thay tugged and rugged, tyl yt was nere nyzt. All the wyves of Totenham came to see that syzt 200 Wyth wyspes and kexis and ryschys there lyzt, To fetch horn ther husbandes that were tharn trouth plyzt. And some brozt gret harwos, Ther husbandes horn to fetch, Sora on dores, and sum on hech, 205 Sum on hyrdyllys, and som on crech, And sum on whele-barows. Thay gaderyd Perkyn about ' on ' everych syde, And grant hym ther ' the gre,' the more was hys pryde. Tyb and he wyth gret ' mirth ' homeward con thay ryde, And were al nyzt togedyr tyl the morn tyde. 211 And thay ' to church went.' So wele hys nedys he has sped, That dere Tyb he ' hath ' wed ; The prayse-folk, that hur led, 215 Were of the Turnament. To that ylk fest com many for the nones ; [stonys ; Some come hyphalte, and some trippand ' thither ' on the Sum a staf in hys hand, and sum two at onys ; Of sum where the hedes broken, of some the schulder bonys. With sorrow come thay thedyr. 221 V. 190, ilk throng. P.O. V. 199, Thys. MS. V. 204, horn for to fetch. MS. V. 208, about everych side. MS. V. 209, the gre, is wanting in MS. V. 210, mothe. MS. V. 212, And thay ifere assent. MS. V. 214, had wed MS. V. 215. The cheefemen. P.C V. 218, t;ippand on. MS. 262 THE TURNAMENT OF TOTTENHAM. Wo was Hawkyn, \vo was Herry, Wo was Tomkyn, wo was Terry, And so was all the baclielary, When thay met togedyr. 225 ' At that fest thay wer servyd with a ryche aray : Every fyve and fyve had a cokenay. And so thay sat in jolyte al the lung day ; And at the last thay went to hed with ful gret deray. Mekyl myrth was them among : 230 In every corner of the hous Was melody delycyous, For to here precyus, Of six menys song. 3 2 la the former impressions, this concluding stanza was only given from Bedwell's printed edition ; but it is here copied from the old MS. wherein it has been since found, separated from the rest of the poem by several pages of a money-account, and other heterogeneous matter. 3 Six-men's song, i. e. a song for six Voices. So Shakspeare uses Three- man song-men, in his Winter's Tale, act iii. sc. 3, to denote men that could sing Catches composed for three Voices. Of this sort are Weelkes's Madrigals mentioned below, book v. song 9. So again Shakspeare has Three-men beetle ; t. e. a beetle or rammer worked by three men. 2 Hen. IV. act i. sc. 3. FOB THE VICTORY AT AGINCOUBT. 263 Noics for tf)e Ftctorp at ggincourt. Deo gratias Anglia redde pro victoria. -* ^-i-s-g-i*- . *: k n= Owre Kynge went forth to Nor-man-dy with grace and La b i * 1 ! I ! 1 i I ! I ! 1 ! I i myH of chivalry; the God for him wroujt marvelously, Wherefore Englonde may calle, and cry Deo Gratiat, Deo Gratia*, Anglia redde pro Victoria, 264 FOB THE VICTORY AT AGINCOURT. V. dfor flje Tictovv at &gmcourt. That our plain and martial ancestors could wield their swords much better than their pens, will appear from the following homely rhymes, which were drawn up by some poet- laureate of those days to celebrate the immortal victory gained at Agiucourt, Oct. 25, 1415. This s^ng or hymn is given merely as a curiosity, and is printed from a MS. copy in the Pepys collection, vol. i. fol. It is there accompanied with the musical notes, which are here copied. Deo gratias Anglia red.de pro victoria ! OWRE kynge went forth to Normandy, With grace and myzt of chivalry ; The God for him wrouzt marvelously, Wherefore Englonde may calle, and cry 5 Deo gratias : Deo gratias Anglia redde pro victoria. He sette a sege, the sothe for to say, To Harflue toune with ryal aray ; That toune he wan and made a fray, 10 That Fraunce shall rywe tyl domes day. Deo gratias, &c. Then went owre kynge with alle his oste Thorowe Fraunce for all the Frenshe boste ; He spared ' for ' drcde of leste ne most, 15 Tyl he come to Agincourt coste. Deo gratias, &c. Than for sothe that knyzt comely In Agincourt feld he fauzt manly, Thorow grace of God most myzty 2C He had both the felde and the victory : Deo gratias, dc. Ther dukys and erlys, lorde and barone, Were take and slayne and that wel sone, And some were ledde in to Lundone 2 With joyo and merthe and grete renone. Deo gratias, &c. THE NOT-BROWNK MATD. 265 Now gracious God he save owre kynge, His peple and all his \vel wyllynge, Gef him gode lyfe aud gode endynge, 30 That we with merth mowe savely synga Deo gratias : Deo gratias Anglia redde pro victoria. VI. The sentimental beauties of this ancient ballad have always recom- mended it to readers of taste, notwithstanding the rust of antiquity which obscures the style and expression. Indeed, if it had no other merit than the having afforded the ground-work to Prior's Henry and Emma, this ouglit to preserve it from oblivion. 1'hat we are able to give it in so correct a manner, is owing to the great care and exactness of the accurate editor of the Prolusions, 8vo, 1760 ; who has form* d the text from two copies found in two different editions of Arnolde's Chronicle, a book supposed to be first printed about 1521. From the <:opy in the Prolusions the following is printed, with a few additional improvements gathered from another edition of Arnolde's book, 1 pre- served in the public library at Cambridge. All the various readings ef this copy will be found here, either received into the text, or noted in the margin. The references to the Prolusions will show where they occur. In our ancient folio MS. described in the preface, is a very corrupt and defective copy of this ballad, which yet afforded a great improvement in one passage. See v. 310. It has been a much easier task to settle the text of this poem, than to ascertain its date. The ballad of the Not Browne Mayd was first revived in the The Muses Mercury for June 1707, 4to, being prefaced with a little " Essay on the old English Poets and Poetry :" in which this poem is concluded to be " near 300 years old," upon reasons which, though they appear inconclusive to us now, were sufficient to determine Prior, who there first met with it. However, this opinion had the approbation of the learned Wanley, an excellent judge of ancient books. For that whatever related to the reprinting of this old piece was referred to Wanley, appears from two letters of Prior's preserved in the British Museum [Harl. MSS. No. 3777]. The editor of the Prolusions thinks it cannot be older than the year 1500, because in Sir Thomas 1 This (which my friend Mr. Farmer supposes to be the first edition) i. in folio : the folios are numbered at the bottom of the leaf: the song begins at folio 75. The poem has since been collated with a very fine copy that was in the collection of the late James West, Esq. ; the readings ex- tracted thence are denoted thus, ' Mr. W.' 266 THE NOT BROWNK MAYD. More's tale of The Serjeant, &c., which was written ahout that time, there appears a sameness of rhythmus and orthography, and a very near affinity of words and phrases, with those of this ballad. But this rea- soning is not conclusive ; for if Sir Thomas More made this ballad his model, as is very likely, that will account for the sameness of measure, and in some respect for that of words and phrases, even though this had been written long before ; and, as for the orthography, it is well known that the old printers reduced that of most books to the standard of their own times. Indeed, it is hardly probable that an antiquary like Arnolde would have inserted it among his historical Collections, if it had been then a modern piece ; at least, he would have been apt to have named its author. But to show how little can be inferred from a resemblance of rhythmus or style, the Editor of these volumes has in his ancient folio MS. a poem on the victory of Flodden-field, written in the same numbers, with the same alliterations, and in orthography, phraseology, and style nearly resembling the Visions of Pierce Plowman, which are yet known to have been composed above 160 years before that battle. As this poem is a great curiosity, we shall give a few ol the introductory lines : " Grant, gracious God, grant me this time, That I may 'say, or I cease, thy selven to please ; And Mary his mother, that maketh this world ; And all the seemlie saints, that sitten in heaven ; I will carpe of kings, that conquered full wide, That dwelled in this land, that was alyes noble ; Henry the seventh, that soveraigne lord," &c. With regard to the date of the following ballad, we have taken a middle course, neither placed it so high as Wanley and Prior, nor quite so low as the editor of the Prolusions : we should have followed the latter in dividing every other line into two, but that the whole would then have taken up more room than could be allowed it in this volume. " BE it ryght or wrong, these men among On women do complayne, 1 Affyrmynge this, how that it is A labour spent in vayne To love them wele, for never a dele 5 They love a man agayne : For late a man do what he can Theyr favour to attayne, Ver. 2, woman. Prolusions, and Mr. West's copy. 1 My fiiend, Mr. Fanner, proposes to read the first lines thus, is Latiuisin : Re it right or wrong, 'tis men among, On women to complayne. THE NOT-BROWNE MATD. 267 Yet yf a newe do them persue, Theyr first true lover than 10 Laboureth for nought, for from her thought He is a banyshed man." " I say nat nay, but that all day It is bothe writ and sayd, That womans faith is, as who sayth, 15 All utterly decayd ; But neverthelesse, ryght good wytnesse In this case might be layd, That they love true, and continue : Eecorde the Not-browne Mayde ; 20 Which, when her love came, her to prove. To her to make his mone, Wolde nat depart, for in her hart She loved but hym alone." " Than betwaine us late us dyscus 25 What was all the nianere Betwayne them two ; we wyll also Tell all the payne and fere That she was in. Nowe I begyn, So that ye me answere : 30 Wherefore all ye that present be, I pray you gyve an ere. I am the knyght, I come by nyg'n, As secret as I can, Sayinge ' Alas ! thus standeth the case, 85 I am a banyshed man.' " SHE. " And I your wyll for to fulfyll In this wyll nat refuse, Trustying to shewe, in wordes fewe. That men have an yll use, 40 (To theyr own shame), women to blame. And causelesse them accuse : Therfore to you 1 answere nowe, All women to excuse, V. 11, her, i.e. their. 2G8 THE NOT-BUOWNE MA YD. ' Myne owne hart dere, with you what chere ? 45 I pray you tell anone : For in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone.' " HE. " It standeth so : a dede is do Wherof grete harme shall growe. 50 My destiny is for to dy A shamefull deth, I trowe, Or elles to fle : the one must be : None other way I knowe, But to withdrawe as an outlawe, , 5 And take me to my bowe. Wherfore, adue, my owne hart true, None other rede I can ; For I must to the grene wode go Alone, a banyshed man." 60 SHE. " Lord, what is thys worldys blysse That changeth as the mone ! My somers day in lusty May Is derked before the none. I here you say farewell : Nay, nay, 65 We depart nat so sone. Why say ye so ? wheder wyll ye go ? Alas, what have ye done? All my welfare to sorrowe and care Sholde chaunge, yf ye were gone : 70 For in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone." HE. " I can belev ; it shall you greve, And somewhat you dystrayne ; But aftyrwarde your paynes harde, 75 Within a day or twayne, V. 63, The somers. Prol. THE NOT-BROWNE MAYD. 269 Shall sone aslake, and ye shall take Comfort to you agayne. Why sholde ye ought ? for, to make thought Your labour were in vayne : 80 And thus I do, and pray you to, As hartely as I can : For I must to the grene wode go Alone, a banyshed man." SHE. " Now syth that ye have shewed to me 85 The secret of your mynde, I shall be playne to you agayne, Lyke as ye shall me fynde : Syth it is so that ye wyll go, I wolle not leve behynde ; 90 Shall never be sayd the Not-browne Mayd Was to her love unkynde. Make you redy, for so am I, Allthough it were anone ; For in my mynde, of all mankynde 95 I love but you alone." HE. " Yet I you rede to take good hede What men wyll thynke, and say ; Of yonge and olde it shall be tolde, That ye be gone away 100 Your wanton wyll for to fulfill, In grene wode you to play ; And that ye myght from your delyght No lenger make delay. Rather than ye sholde thus for me 105 Be called an yll woman, Yet wolde I to the grene wode go Alone, a banyshed man." V. 81, to. . e. too. V. 91, Shall it never. Prol. and Mr W 7. 94, Althought. Mr. W. 270 THE NOT-BBOWNE MAYD. SHE. " Though it be songe of old and yonge That I sholde be to blame, 110 Theyrs be the charge that speke so large In hurtynge of my name. For I wyll prove that faythfulle love It is devoyd of shame, In your dystresse and hevynesse, 115 To part with you the same ; And sure all tho that do not so, True lovers are they none ; For in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone." 120 HE. " I counceyle you remember howe It is no maydens lawe, Nothynge to dout, but to renne out To wode with an outlawe. For ye must there in your hand bere 12" A bowe, redy to drawe, And as a thefe thus must you lyve, Ever in drede and awe ; Wherby to you grete hanne myght growe ; Yet had I lever than 13(1 That I had to the grene wode go Alone, a banyshed man." SHE. " I thinke nat nay ; but, as ye say, It is no maydens lore ; But love may make me for your sake, 135 As I have sayd before, To come on fotc, to hunt and shote To gete us mete in store ; For so that I your company May have, I aske no more ; 140 V. 117. To shewe all. Prol. and Mr. W. V. 133, I say nat. Ptol nd Mi . W. V. 138, and store. Camb. copy. THE NOT BROWNE MAYD. 271 From which to part, it maketh my hart As colde as ony stone: For in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone." HE. " For an outlawe this is the lawe, 145 That men hym take and bynde, Without pyte hanged to be, And waver with the wynde. If I had nede, (as God forbede !>, What rescous could ye fynde ? 150 Forsoth, I trowe, ye and your bowe For fere wolde drawe behynde : And no mervayle ; for lytell avayle Were in your counceyle than ; Wherefore I wyll to the grene wode go 155 Alone, a banyshed man." 8HE. " Ryght wele knowe ye that women be But feble for to fyght ; No womunhcde it is indede, To be bolde as a knyght. 160 Yet in such fere yf that ye were, With enemyes day or nyght, I wolde withstande, with bowe in hande, To greve them as I myght, And you to save, as women have, 165 From deth ' men ' many one : For in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone." HE. " Yet take good hede ; for ever I drede That ye coude nat sustayne 170 The thornie wayes, the depe valeies, The snowe, the frost, the rayne, V. 150, socours. Prol. and Mr. W. V. 162, and night. Camb. copy. V. 164, to helpe ye with my myghi. Prol. and Mr. W. V. 172, frost and rayne, Mr. W. 272 THE NOT-BROWNE MAYD. The colde, the hete ; for, dry or wete, We must lodge on the playne ; And us above none other rofe 175 But a brake bush or twayne , Which sone sholde greve you, I beleve, And ye wolde gladly than That 1 had to the grene wode go Alone, a banyshed man." 180 SHE. " Syth I have here bene partynere With you of joy and blysse, I must also parte of your wo Endure, as reson is ; Yet am I sure of one plesure, 185 And shortely, it is this : That where ye be, me semeth, parde, I coude nat fare amysse. Without more speche, 1 you beseche That we were sone agone ; For in my mynde, of all mankynde 190 I love but you alone." HE, " If ye go thyder, ye must consyder When ye have lust to dyne, There shall no mete be for you gete, 195 Nor drinke, bere, ale, ne wyne ; Ne shetes clene to lye betwene, Made of threde and twyne ; None other house but leves and bowes To cover your hed and myne. 200 O myne harte swete, this evyll dyete Sholde make you pale and wan : Wherfore I wyll to the grene wode go Alone, a banyshed man." V. 174, Ye must. Prol. V. 189, shortley gone. Pro!, and Mr. W. 7. 196, Nevther bere. Prol. and Mr. \V. V. 201. Lo myn. Mr SV. THE NOT-BROWNK MAYD. 278 SHE. " Among tlie wylde dere such an archere 205 As men say that ye be Ne may nat fayle of good vitayle, . Where is so grete plente ; And water clere of the ryvere Shall be full swete to me, 210 With which in hele I shall ryght wele Endure, as ye shall see ; And or we go, a bedde or two I can provyde anone; For in my mynde, of all mankynde 215 I love but you alone." HE. " Lo, yet before, ye must do more, Yf ye wyll go with me, As cut your here up by your ere, Your kyrtel by the kne ; 220 With bowe in hande, for to withstande Your enemyes, yf nede be ; And this same nyght. before day-lyght, To wode-warde wyll I fle ; Yf that ye wyll all this fulfill, 225 Do it shortely as ye can : Els wyll I to the grene wode go Alone, a banyshed man." SHE. " I shall as nowe do more for you Than longeth to womanhede, 230 To shorte my here, a bow to bere, To shote in tyme of nede. my swete mother, before all other, For you I have most drede ! V. 207. May ye nal fayle. Prol. Ib. May nat fayle. Mr W. V. 219, above your ere. Prol. V". 220, above the kne. Prol. aul Mr. W. V. 223. the same. Prol. and Mr, W. VOL. I. T 274 THE NOT-EBOWNE MAYD. But nowe, adue ! I must ensue 235 Where fortune doth me lede. All this mark ye ; now let us fle ; The day cometh fast upon ; For in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone." 240 HE. " Nay, nay, nat so ; ye shall nat go ; And I shall tell ye why ; You appetyght is to be lyght Of love, I wele espy : For lyke as ye have sayed to me, 245 In lyke wyse, hardely, Ye wolde answere, whosoever it were, In way of company. It is sayd of olde, Sone hote, sone colde. And so is a woman ; 250 Wherfore I to the wode wyll go Alone, a banyshed man." " Yf ye take hede, it is no node Such wordes to say by me ; For oft ye prayed, and longe assayed, 255 Or I you loved, parde. And though that I of auncestry A barons daughter be, Yet have you proved howe I you loved, A squyer of lowe degre ; 260 And ever shall, whatso befall, To dy therfore * anone ; For in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone." V. 251, For I must to the grene wode go. Prol. and Mr. W. V 253, yet is. Camo. copy : perhaps for yt is. V. 262, dy with him. Editors MS. 1 i. e. for this cause ; though I were to die for having loved you. TttK NOT BKOWNK MAYD. 275 HE. " A barons chylde to be begylde, 265 It were a cursed dede ! To be felawe with an outlawe, Almighty God forbede ! Yet beter were the pore squyere Alone to forest yede, 270 Than ye sholde say another day, That by my cursed dede Ye were betrayed ; wherfore, good mayd, The best rede that I can Is that I to the grene wode go 275 Alone, a banyshed man." SHE. u Whatever befall, I never shall Of this thyng you upbrayd ; But yf ye go, and leve me so, Than have ye me betrayd. 280 Remember you wele, howe that ye dele, For yf ye, as ye sayd, Be so unkynde to leve behynde Your love, the Not-Browne Mayd, Trust me truly, that I shall dy, 285 Sone after ye be gone ; For in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone." HE. " Yf that ye went, ye sholde repent, For in the forest nowe 290 I have purvayed me of a mayd, Whom I love more than you : Another fayrere than ever ye were, I dare it wele avowe ; And of you bothe eche sholde be wrothe 295 With other, as I trowe. V. 278, outbrayd. Prol. and Mr. W. V. 282, ye be as. Prol. an Itorli Taut. The reader will think that infant Poetry grew apace between the times of Rivers and Vaux, though nearly contemporaries, if the following song ia the composition of that Sir Nicholas (afterwards Lord) Vaux, who was the shining ornament of the court of Henry VII., and died in the year 1523. And yet to this lord it is attributed by Puttenham, in his Art of Eng. Poesie, 1589, 4to, a writer commonly well informed : take the passage at large. " In this figure [Counterfait Action] the Lord Nicholas Vaux, a noble gentleman and much delighted in vulgar making, and a man otherwise of no great learuing, but having herein a marvelous facilitie, made a dittie representing the Battayle and Assault of Cupide, so excellently well, as for the gallant and propre application ot his fiction in every part, I cannot clioose but set downe the greatest part of his ditty, for in truth it cannot be amended, ' When Cupid scaled,' Ac." p. 200. For a farther account of Nicholas Lord Vaux, see Mr. Walpole's Noble Autttora, vol. i. The following copy is printed from the first edit, of Surrey't Poem*, 1557, 4to. See another song of Lord Vaux's, book ii. No. 2. WHEN Cupide scaled first the fort Wherein my hart lay wounded sore, The batry was of such a sort, That I must yelde or die therfore. '280 CUPID'S ASSAULT. There sawe I Love upon the wall, 5 How he his banner did display : " Alarme, alarme," he gan to call ; And bad his souldiours kepe aray. The armes, the which that Cupide bare, Were pearced hartes with teares besprent, 10 In silver and sable to declare The stedfast love he alwayes ment. There might you se his band all drest In colours like to white and black e, With powder and with pelletes prest 15 To bring the fort to spoile and sacke. Good-wyll, the maister of the shot, Stode in the rampire brave and proude, For spence of pouder he spared not " Assault ! assault ! " to crye aloude. 20 There might you heare the cannons rore ; Eche pece discharged a lover's loke ; Which had the power to rent, and tore In any place whereas they toke. And even with the trumpettes sowne 25 The scaling ladders were up set, And Beautie walked up and downe, With bow in hand, and arrowes whet. Then first Desire began to scale, And shrouded him under ' his ' targe : 3fl As one the worthiest of them all, And aptest for to geve the charge. Then pushed souldiers with their pikes, And halberdes with handy strokes ; The argabushe in fleshe it lightes, 35 And duns the ay re with misty smokes. Ver. 30, her. ed. 1557 : so ed. 1585. CUPID'S ASSAULT. 281 And, as it is the soukliers use When shot and powder gins to want, I hanged up my flagge of truce, And pleaded up tor my lives grant. 40 When Fancy thus had made her breche, And Beauty entred with her band, With bagge and baggage, sely wretch, I yelded into Beauties hand. Then Beautie bad to blow retrete, 46 And every souldier to retire, And Mercy wyll'd with spede to fet Me eaptive bound as prisoner. " Madame," quoth I, " sith that this day Hath served you at all assayes, 50 I yeld to you without delay Here of the fortresse all the kayes. " And sith that I have ben the marke At whom you shot at with your eye, Nedes must you with your baudy warke 55 Or salve my sore, or let me die." %* Since the foregoing song was first printed off, reasons Lave occurred, which incline mo to believe that Lord Vaux, the poet, was not the Lord Nicholas Vaux who died in 1523, but rather a successor of his in the title. For, in the first place, it is remarkable that all the old writers mention Lord Vaux, the poet, as contemporary or rather posterior to Sir Thomas Wyat and the Earl of Surrey, neither of whom made any figure till long after the death of the first Lord Nicholas Vaux. Thus Puttenham, in his Art of English Poesie, 1589, in p. 48, having named Skelton, adds, " In the latter end of the same kings raigne, [Henry VIII.] sprong up a new company of courtly Makers, [poets,] of whom Sir Thomas Wyat the elder, and Henry Earl of Surrey, where the two chieftaines, who having travailed into Italic, and there tasted the sweet and stately measures and stile of the Italian poesie . . . greatly polished our rude and homely manner of vulgar poesie In the same time, or not long after, was the Lord Nicholas Vaux, a man of much facilitie in vulgar makings." l Webbe, in his Discourse of English Poetrie, 1586, ranges them in the following order, "The Earl of Surrey, the Lord Vaux, Norton, Bristow." And Gascoigne, in the place quoted in this work [b. ii. no. 2], mentions Lord Vaux after Surrey. Again, the style and measure of Lord 1 '. c. Compositions in English. 282 SIE ALDINGAB. Vaux's pieces seem too refined and polished for the age of Henrj VII., and rather resemble the smoothness and harmony of Surrey and Wyat, than the rude metre of Skelton and Hawes : but what puts the matter out of all doubt, in the British Museum is a copy of his poem, I lothe that I did love [vid. book ii. ubi supra], with thia title, " A dyttye or sonet made by the Lord Vaus, in the time of the noble Quene Marye, representing the image of Death." Harl. MSS. No. 1703, 25. It is evident, then, that Lord Vaux the poet was not he that flourished in the reign of Henry VII., but either his son, or grandson ; and yet, according to Dugdale's Baronage, the former was named Thomas, and the latter William : but this difficulty is not great, for none of the old writers mention the Christian name of the poetic Lord Vaux, 2 except Puttenham ; and it is more likely that he might be mistaken in that lord's name, than in the time in which he lived, who was so nearly his contemporary. Thomas, Lord Vaux, of Harrowden in Northamptonshire, was summoned to parliament in 1531. When he died does not appear ; but he probably lived till the latter end of Queen Mary's reign, since his son. William was not summoned to parliament till the lat year of that reign, in 1558. This lord died in 1595. See Dugdale, vol. ii. p. 304. Upon the whole, I am inclined to believe that Lord Thomas was the poet. * In the Paradise of Dainty Devises, 1596, he is called simply " Lord Vaux the elder." IX. This old fabulous legend is given from the Editor's folio MS. with conjectural emendations, and the insertion of some additional stanzas to supply and complete the story. It has bee-i suggested to the Editor, that the author of this poem seems to have had in his eye the story of Gunhilda, who is sometime* called Eleanor, and was married to the Emperor (here called King^ Henry. OUR king he kept a false stewarde, Sir Aldingar they him call : A falser steward than he was one, Servde not in bower nor hall. SIB ALDINGAR. 283 He wolde have layne by our comelye queene, 5 Her deere worshippe to betraye ; Our queene she was a good woman, And evermore said him naye. Sir Aldingar was wrothe in his mind, With her hee was never content, 10 Till traitorous meanes he colde devyse, In a fyer to have her brent. There came a lazar to the kings gate, A lazar both blinde and lame ; He tooke the lazar upon his backe, 15 Him on the queenes bed has layne. " Lye still, lazar, wheras thou lyest, Looke thou goe not hence away ; He make thee a whole man and a sound In two howers of the day." x 20 Then went him forth Sir Aldingar, And hyed him to our king : " If I might have grace, as I have space, Sad tydings I could bring." " Say on, say on, Sir Aldingar, 25 Say on the soothe to mee." " Our queene hath chosen a new, new love, And shee will have none of thee. " If shee had chosen a right good knight, The lesse had beene her shame ; 30 But she hath chose her a lazar man, A lazar both blinde and lame." " If this be true, thou Aldingar, The tyding thou tellest to me, Then will I make thee a rich, rich knight, 35 Rich both of golde and fee. 1 He probably insinuates that the king should heal him by his power oi touching for the King's Evil. 284 SIR ALDINGAB. " But if it be false, Sir Alclingar, As God nowe grant it bee ! Thy body, I sweare by the holye rood, Shall hang on the gallows tree." 40 He brought our king to the queenes chamber, And opend to him the dore : " A lodlye love," King Harry says, " For our queene, Dame Elinore ! " If thou were a man, as thou art none, 45 Here on my sword thoust dye ; But a payre of new gallowes shall be built, And there shalt thou hang on hye." Forth then hyed our king, I wysse, And an angry man was hee, 50 And soone he found Queene Elinore, Thai bride so bright of blee. " Now God you save, our Queene, madame, And Christ you save and see ! Here you have chosen a newe, newe love, 55 And you will have none of mee. " If you had chosen a right good knight, The lesse had been your shame ; But you have chose you a lazar man, A lazar both blinde and lame. 60 Therfore a fyer there shall be built, And brent all shalt thou bee." " Now out alacke ! " sayd our comly queene, " Sir Aldingar's false to mee. " Now out alacke ! " sayd our comlye queeno, 65 " My heart with griefe will brast : I had thought swevens had never been true, I have proved them true at last. " I dreamt in my sweven on Thursday eve, I my bed wheras I laye, 70 I dreamt a grype and a grimlie beast Had carryed my crowne awaye ; SIR AIAxLNQAB. 285 M My gorgett and my kirtle of golde, And all my faire head-geere ; And he wold worrye me with his tush, 75 And to his nest y-beare ; " Saving there came a little ' gray ' hawke, A merlin him they call, Which untill the grounde did strike the grype, That dead he downe did fall. 80 Giffe I were a man, as now I am none, A battell wold I prove, To fight with that traitor Aldingar : Att him I cast my glove. " But seeing Ime able noe battell to make, 85 My liege, grant me a knight To fight with that traitor, Sir Aldingar, To maintaine me in my right." " Now forty dayes I will give thee To seeke thee a knight therin : 90 If thou find not a knight in forty dayes, Thy bodye it must brenn." Then shee sent east, and shce cent west, By north and south bedeenc ; But never a champion colde she find, 95 Wolde fight with that knight soe keene. Now twenty dayes were spent and gone, Noe helpe there might be had ; Many a teare shed our comelye queene, And aye her hart was sad. 100 Then came one of the queenes damselles, And knelt upon her knee : " Cheare up, cheare up, my gracious dame, I trust yet helpe may be. " And here I will make mine avowe, 105 And with the same me binde, That never will I return to thee, Till I some helpe may finde." s **. Ver. 77, see below, ver. 137. 286 SIB ALDINGAB. Then forth she rode on a faire palfraye, Oer hill and dale about ; 110 But never a champion colde she finde, Wolde fighte with that knight so stout. And nowe the daye drewe on a pace, When our good queene must dye ; All woe-begone was that faire damselle, 115 When she found no helpe was nye. All woe-begone was that fair damselle, And the salt teares fell from her eye ; When lo ! as she rode by a rivers side, She met with a tinye boye. 120 A tinye boy she mette, God wot, All clad in mantle of golde ; He seemed noe more in mans likenesse, Then a childe of four yeere olde. Why grieve you, damselle faire," he sayd, 125 "And what doth cause you moane?" The damsell scant wolde deigne a looke, But fast she pricked on. " Yet turne againe, thou fai're damselle, And greete thy queene from mee ; 130 When bale is att hyest, boote is nyest ; Nowe helpe enoughe may bee. " Bid her remember what she dreamt, In her bedd wheras shee laye ; How when the grype and the grimly beast 135 Wolde have carried her crowne awaye, " Even then there came the little gray hawke, And saved her from his clawes : Then bidd the queene be merry at hart, For heaven will fende her cause." 140 Back then rode that faire damselle, And her hart it lept for glee : And when she told her gracious dame, A gladd woman then was shoe. SIR ALDINGAR. 287 But when the appointed day was come, 145 No helpe appeared nye ; Then woeful, woeful was her hart, And the teares stood in her eye. And nowe a fyer was huilt of wood, And a stake was made of tree ; 150 And now Queene Elinor forth was led, A sorrowful sight to see. Three times the herault he waved his hand, And three times spake on hye : " Giff any good knight will fende this dame, 155 Come forth, or shoe must dye." No knight stood forth, no knight there come, No helpe appeared nye ; And now the fyer was lighted up, Queen Elinor she must dye. 160 And now the fyer was lighted up, As hot as hot might bee ; When riding upon a little white steed, The tinye boy they see. " Away with that stake, away with those brands, And loose our comelye queene : 166 I am come to fight with Sir Aldingar, And prove him a traitor keene." Forthe then stood Sir Aldingar, But when he saw the chylde, 170 He laughed, and scoffed, and turned his backc, And weened he had been beguylde. " Now turne, now turne thee, Aldingar, And eyther fighte or flee ; I trust that I shall avenge the wronge, 176 Thoughe I am so small to see." The boye pulld forth a well good sworde, So gilt it dazzled the ee ; The first stroke stricken at Aldingar Smote off his leggs by the knee. 18C 28# SIK ALDINGAR. " Stand up. stand up, thou false traitor, And fight upon thy feete, For, and thou thrive as thou begin'st, Of height wee shall be ineete." " A priest, a priest," sayes Aldingar, 185 " While I am a man alive ; A priest, a priest," sayes Aldingar, " Me for to houzle and shrive. " I wolde have laine by our comlie queene, But shee wolde never consent ; 190 Then I thought to betraye her unto our kinge, In a fyer to have her brent. " There came a lazar to the kings gates, A lazar both blind and lame ; I tooke the lazar upon my backe, 1 95 And on her bedd had him layne. " Then ranne I to our comlye king, These tidings sore to tell : But ever alacke ! " sayes Aldingar, " Falsing never doth well. 200 " Forgive, forgive me, Queene, madame, The short time I must live." " Nowe Christ forgive thee, Aldingar, As freely I forgive." " Here take thy queene, our King Harrye, 205 And love her as thy life, For never had a king in Christentye, A truer and fairer wife." King Henrye ran to claspe his queene. And loosed her full sone ; 210 Then turnd to look for the tinye boye : The boye was vanisht and gone. But first he had touchd the lazar man, And stroakt him with his hand ; The lazar under the gallowes tree 215 All whole and soundc did stand. THE GABEBLUNZIE MAN. 289 The lazar under the gallowes tree Was comelye, straight and tall ; King Henrye made him his head stew&rde, To wayte withinn his hall. 220 * * O;c A SCOTTISH SONG. Traditioa informs us that the author of tliis song was King James V. of Scotland. This prince (whose character for wit and libertinism bears a great resemblance to that of his gay successor Charles II.) was noted for strolling about his dominions in disguise, 1 and for his frequent gallantries with country girls. Two adventures of this kind he hath celebrated with his own pen, viz. in this ballad of The Gaberlunzie Man ; and in another entitled The Jolly Beggar, beginning thus : " Thair was a jollie beggar, and a begging h was boun, And he tuik up his quarters into a land'art toun. " Fa, la, la," &c. It seems to be the latter of these ballads (which was too licentious to be admitted into this collection) that is meant in the Catalogue of Royal and Noble Authors* where the ingenious writer remarks, that there is something very ludicrous in the young woman's distress when she thought her first favour had been thrown away upon a beggar. Bishop Tanner has attributed to James Y. the celebrated ballad of Christ's Kirk on the Green, which is ascribed to King James I. in Banna- tyne's MS., written in 1568. And notwithstanding that authority, the Editor of this book is of opinion that Bishop Tanner was right. King James V. died December 13th, 1542, aged 33. THE pauky auld carle came ovir the lee, * Wi' mony pood-eens and days to mee, Saying, " Good wife, for zour courtesie, Will ze lodge a silly poor man ? " 1 Sc. of a tinker, beggar, &c. Thus he used to visit a smith's daughter at Niddry, near K.iinburgh. * Vol. ii. p. 21K1. VOL. I. D 290 THE GABEBLTJNZIE MAN. The night was cauld, the carle was wat, 5 And down azont the ingle he sat ; My dochters shoulders he gan to clap, And cadgily ranted and sang. " O wow ! " quo he, " were I as free, As first when I saw this countrie, 10 How blyth and merry wad I bee ! And I wad nevir think lang." He grew canty, and she grew fain, But little did her auld minny ken, What thir slee twa togither were say'n, 15 V\ hen wooing they were sa thrang. " And ! " quo he, " ann ze were as black, As evir the crown of your dad yes hat, Tis I wad lay thee by my back, And awa wi' me thou sould gang." 20 " And ! " quoth she, " ann I were as white, As evir the snaw lay on the dike, lid dead me braw, and lady-like, And awa with thee lid gang." Between the twa was made a plot ; 25 They raise a wee before the cock, And wyliely they shot the lock, And fast to the bent are they gane. Up the morn the auld wife raise, And at her leisure put on her claiths ; 30 Syne to the servants bed she gaes, To speir for the silly poor man. She gaed to the bed whair the beggar lay, The strae was cauld, he was away ; She clapt her hands, cryd, " Dulefu' day ! 35 For some of our geir will be gane." Some ran to coffer, and some to kist, But nought was stown that could be mist. She dancid her lane, cryd, " Praise be blest, I have lodgd a leal poor man. 40 Ver. 29, the cariine, other copieti. THE GABERLU.VZIE MAN. 291 " Since naithings awa, as we can learn, The kirns to kirn, and milk to earn ; Gae butt the house, lass, and waken my bairn, And bid her come quickly ben." The servant gaed where the dochter lay, 45 The sheets was cauld, she was away ; And fast to her good wife can say, " Shea aff with the gaberlunzie man." " fy gar ride, and fy gar rin, And hast ze, find these traitors agen ; 60 For shees be burnt, and hees be slein, The wearyfou gaberlunzie man." Some rade upo horse, some ran a fit, The wife was wood, and out o' her wit ; She could na gang, nor yet could she sit, 55 But ay did curse and did ban. Mean time far hind out owre the lee, For snug in a glen, where nane could see, The twa, with kindlie sport and glee, Cut frae a new cheese a whang. CO" The priving was gude, it pleas'd them baith ; To lo'e her for ay he gae her his aith ; Quo she, " To leave thee, I will be laith, My winsome gaberlunzie man. " O kend my minny I were wi' zou, 65 Illfardly wad she crook her mou ; Sic a poor man sheld nevir trow, Aftir the gaberlunzie mon." " My dear," quo he, " zeer'e zet owre zonge, And hae na learnt the beggars tonge, 70 To follow me frae toun to toun, And carrie the gaberlunzie on." " Wi' kauk and keel, 111 win zour bread, And spindles and whorles for them wha need, Whilk is a gentil trade indeed 7C The gaberlunzie to carrie o. u 2 292 ON THOMAS LOKD CROMWELL. Ill bow my leg and crook my knee, And draw a black clout owre my ee ; A criple or blind they will can me, While we sail sing and be merrie o." 80 XI. n Cfyomatf flortJ Cromfoell. It is ever the fate of a disgraced minister to be forsaken by his friends and insulted by his enemies, always reckoning among the latter the giddy, inconstant multitude. We have here a spurn at fallen greatness from some angry partisan of declining Popery, who could never forgive the downfall of their Diana, and loss of their oraft. The ballad seems to have been composed between the time of Cromwell's commitment to the Tower, June 11, 1540, and that of his being beheaded, Ju'y 28, followi' g. A short interval ! but Henry's passion for Catherine Howaid would admit of no delay. Notwithstanding our libeller, Crom- well had many excellent qualities : his great fault was too much obsequiousness to the arbitrary will of his master ; but let it be con- sidered that this master had raised him from obscurity, and that the high-born nobility had shown him the way in every kind of mean and servile compliance. The original copy, printed at London in 1540, is entitled '* A newe ballade made of Thomas Crumwel, called Trolle on Away." To it is prefixed this distich by way of burthen, Trolle on away, trolle on awaye. Synge heave and howe rombelowe trolle on away. BOTH man and chylde is glad to here tell Of that false traytoure Thomas Crumwell, Now that he is set to learn to spell. Synge trolle on away. When fortune lokyd the in thy face, Thou haddyst fayre tyme, but thou lackydyst grace ; 5 Thy cofers with golde thou fyllydst a pace. Synge, &c. Both plate and chalys came to thy fyst, Thou lockydst them vp where no man wyst, Tyll in the kynges treasoure suche thinges were myst. Synge, &c. ON THOMAS l.OKD CKOMWEI,L. 293 Both crust and crumme came thorowe thy handes, 10 Thy marchaundyse sayled over the sandes, Therfore nowe thou art layde fast in bandes. Synge, &c. Fyrste when Kynge Henry, God saue his Grace ! Perceyud myschefe kyndlyd in thy face, Then it was tyme to purchase the a place. 10 Synge, &c. Hys grace was euer of geutyll nature, Mouyd with petye, and made the hys seruyture ; But thou, as a wretche, suche thinges dyd procure. Synge, &c. Thou dyd not remembre, false heretyke, One God, one fayth, and one kynge catholyke, 2C For thou hast bene so long a scysmatyke. Synge, &o. Thou woldyst not learne to knowe these thre;. But euer was full of iniquite : Wherfore all this lande hathe ben troubled with the. Synge, &c. All they, that were of the new trycke, 2 Agaynst the churche thou baddest them stycke ; Wherfore nowe thou hast touchyd the quycke. Synge, &c. Both sacramentes and sacramentalles Thou woldyst not suflre within thy walles ; Nor let vs praye for all chrysten soules. 30 Synge, &c. Of what generacyon thou were no tonge can tell, Whyther of Chayme, or Syschemell, Or else sent vs frome the deuyll of hell. Synge, &c. Thou woldest neuer to vertue applye, But couetyd euer to clymme to hye, 35 And nowe haste thou trodden thy shoo awrye. Synge, &c. Ver. 32, '. e. Cain, or Ishmael. See below* the note, book v. no. iii itauza ord. 294 HARPALTTS. Who-so-euer dyd winne thou wolde not lose ; Wherfore all Englande doth hate the, as I suppose, Bycause thou wast false to the redolent rose. Synge, &c. Thou myghtest have learned thy cloth to flocke 40 Upon thy gresy fullers stocke ; Wherfore lay downe thy heade vpon this blocke. Synge, &c. Yet same that soule, that God hath bought, And for thy carcas care thou nought, Let it suffice payne, as it hath wrought. 45 Synge, &c. God saue Kyng Henry with all his power, And Prynce Edwarde, that goodly flower, With al hys lordes of great honoure. Synge trolle on awaye, syng trolle on away. Hevye and how rombelowe trolle on awaye. V. 41, Cromwell's father is generally said to have been a blacksmith at Putney, but the author of this ballad would insinuate that either he him- self, or some of his ancestors, were fullers by trade. %* The foregoing piece gave rise to a poetic controversy, which was carried on through a succession of seven or eight ballads, written for or against Lord Cromwell. These are all preserved in the Archives of the Antiquarian Society, in a large folio Collection of Proclamations, &c., made in the reigns of King Henry VIII., King Edward VI., Queen Mary, Queen Elizabeth, King James I., &c. XII. AN ANCIENT ENGLISH PASTORAL. This beautiful poem, which is perhaps the first attempt at pastoral writing in our language, is preserved among the " Songs and Sonnettes " of the Earl of Surrey, &c., 4to, in that part of the collection which consists of pieces by " uncertain Auctours." These poems were first published in 1557, ten years after that accomplished nobleman fell a HABPALUB. 295 victim to the tyranny of Henry VIII. : but it ia presumed moat of them were composed before the death of Sir Thomas Wyat, in 1541. See Surrey's Poems, 4to, folios 19, 49. Though written perhaps near half a century before the Shepkerfft Calendar? this will be found far superior to any of those Eclogues, in natural unaffected sentiments, in simplicity of style, in easy flow of versification, and all other beauties of pastoral poetry. Spenser ought to have profited more by so excellent a model. PHYLIDA was a faire mayde, As fresh as any flowre ; Whom Harpalus the herdman prayde To be his paramour. Harpalus, and eke Corin, 5 Were herdmen both yfere ; And Phylida could twist and spinne, And thereto sing full clere. But Phylida was all to coye For Harpalus to winne ; 10 For Corin was her onely joye, Who forst her not a pinne. How often would she flowers twine, How often garlandes make Of couslips and of colombine ? 15 And al for Corin's sake. But Corin, he had haukes to lure, And forced more the field ; Of lovers lawe he toke no cure : For once he was begilde. 20 Harpalus prevailed nought, His labour all was lost : For he was fardest from her thought, And yet he loved her most. Therefore waxt he both pale and leane, 26 And drye as clot of clay ; His fleshe it was consumed cleans ; His colour gone away. 1 Pint published in 1579. 296 HABPAUTS. His beard it had not long be shave ; His heare hong all unkempt : 30 A man most fit even for the grave, Whom spitefull love had spent. . His eyes were red, and all ' forewacht ;' His face besprent with teares ; It semde unhap had him long ' hatcht,' 35 In mids of his dispaires. His clothes were blacke, and also bare ; As one forlorne was he ; Upon his head alwayes he ware A wreath of wyllow tree. 40 His beastes he kept upon the hyll, And he gate in the dale ; And thus with sighes and sorrowes shril, He gan to tell his tale. " Oh Harpalus ! " (thus would he say) 45 " Unhappiest under sunne ! The cause of thine unhappy day, By love was first begunne. " For thou wentest first by sute to seeke A tigre to make tame, 50 That settes not by thy love a leeke, But makes thy griefe her game. " As easy it were for to convert The frost into ' a ' flame ; As for to turne a frowarde hert, 55 Whom thou so faine wouldst frame. " Corin he liveth carelesse ; He leapes among the leaves ; He eats the frutes of thy redresse ; Thou ' reapst,' he takes the sheaves. 60 " My beastes a whyle your foode refraine, And harke your herdmans sounde, Whom spitefull love, alas ! hath slaine, Through-girt with many a wounde. Ver. 33, &c. Thf corrections are from ed. 1574. HABPALC8. 297 u O happy be ye, beastes wilde, 65 That here your pasture takes ; I se that ye be not begilde Of these your faithf all makes. " The hart he feedeth by the hinde ; The bucke harde by the do ; 70 The turtle dove is not uukinde To him that loves her so. " The ewe she hath by her the ramme ; The young cow hath the bull ; The calfe with many a lusty lambe 75 Do fede their hunger full. ' But wel-away ! that nature wrought The, Phylida, so faire ! For I may say that I have bought Thy beauty all to deare. 80 " What reason is that crueltie With beautie should have part ? Or els that such a great tyranny Should dwell in womans hart ! ** I see therefore to shape my death 85 She cruelly is prest ; To th' ende that I may want my breath : My dayes been at the best. " Cupide, graunt this my request, And do not stoppe thine cares : 90 That she may feele within her brest The paines of my dispaires ; " Of Corin, * who ' is carelesse, That she may crave her fee, As I have done, in great distresse, 95 That loved her faithfully. " But since that I shal die her slave, Her slave and eke her thrall, Write you, my frendes, upon my grave This chaunce that is befall. 100 298 KOBIN AND MAKSNE. " ' Here lieth unhappy Harpalus By cruell love now elaine ; Whom Phylida unjustly thus Hath murdred with disdaine.' " XIIL AN ANCIENT SCOTTISH PASTORAL. The palm of pastoral poesy is here contested by a contemporary writer with the author of the foregoing. The critics will judge of their respective merits; but must make some allowance for the preceding ballad, which is given simply as it stands in tlie old editions : whereas this which follows has been revised and amended throughout by Allan Ramsay, from whose Ever- Green, vol. i., it is here chiefly printed. The curious reader may however compare it with the more original copy, printed among "Ancient Scottish Poems, from the MS. of George Bannatyue, 1568, Edinb. 1770, 12mo." Mr. Robert Henryson (to whom we are indebted for this poem) appears to so much advantage among the writers of eclogue, that we are sorry we can give little other account of him besides what is contained in the following eloge, written by W. Dunbar, a Scottish poet, who lived about the middle of the 16th century : " In Dumferling, he [Death] hath tane Broun, With gude Mr. Robert Henryson." Indeed, some little further insight into the history of the Scottish bard is gained from the title prefixed to some of his poems preserved in the British Museum; viz. "The morall Fabillis of Esop compylit be Maister Robert Henrisoun, scolmaister of Dumfermling, 1571." Harleian MSS. 3865, 1. In Ramsay's Ever-Green, vol. i., whence the above distich is extracted, are preserved two other little Doric pieces by Henryson ; the one entitled The Lynn and the Mouse ; the other, The garment of gude Ladyis. Some other of his poems may be seen in the " Ancient Scottish Poems, printed from Bannatyne's MS." above referred to. EOBIN sat on the gude grene hill, Keipand a flock of fie : Quhen mirry Makyne said him till, " Robin rew on cae ; BOBIN AND MAKYNE. 299 I half thcc luirt baith loud and still, 5 Thir towinonds twa or thre ; My dule in dern hot giff thou dill, Doubtless but dreid 111 die." Robin replied, " Now by the rude, Nai thing of luve I knaw, 10 But keip my sheip undir yon wod ; Lo quhair they raik on raw. Quhat can have mart thee in thy mude, Thou Makyne to me schaw ; Or quhat is luve, or to be lude ? 15 Fain wald I leir that law." " The law of luve gin thou wald leir, Tak thair an A, B, C ; Be heynd, courtas, and fair of feir, Wyse, hardy, kind and frie. 20 Sae that nae danger do the deir, Quhat dule in dern thou drie ; Press ay to pleis and blyth appeir, Be patient and privie." Robin, he answert her againe : 25 " I wat not quhat is luve, But T haif marvel in certaine, Quhat makes thee thus wanrufe. The wedder is fair, and I am fain, My sheep gais hail abuve, 30 And sould we pley us on the plain, They wald us baith repruve." " Robin, tak tent unto my tale, And wirk all as I reid. And thou sail haif my heart all hale, 35 Eik and my maiden-heid. Sen God, he sendis bute for bale, And for murning remeid, I'dern with thee bot gif I dale, Doubtless I am but deid." 40 Ver. 19, Bannatyne's MS. reads as above, heynd, not keynd, as in the Edinb. edit. 1770 V. 21. So that no danger. Bann.ityne's MS. 800 ROBIN AND MAKYNE. " Makyne, to-morn be this ilk tyde, Gif ye will meit me heir, Maybe my sheip may gang besyde, Quhyle wo have liggd full neir ; But maugre haif I, git' I byde, 45 Frae thay begin to steir ; Quhat lyes on heart I will nocht Jbyd, Then Makyne mak gude cheir." " Robin, thou reivs me of my rest; I luve bot thee alane." 50 " Makyne, adieu ! the sun goes west, The day is neir-hand gane." " Robin, in dule I am so drest, That luve will be my bane." " Makyn, gae luv quhair-eir ye list, 65 For Ionian I luid nane." " Robin, I stand in sic a style, I sich and that full sair." " Makyne, I have bene here this quyle . At name I wish I ware." 60 " Robin, my hinny, talk and smyle, Gif thou will do nae mair." " Makyne, som other man beguyle, For hameward 1 will fare." Syne Robin on his ways he went, 65 As light as leif on tree ; But Makyne murnt and made lament, Scho trow'd him neir to see. Robin he brayd attowre the bent ; Then Makyne cried on hie, 7u " Now may thou sing, for I am shent ! Quhat ailis luve at me ? " Makyne went hame withouten fail, And weirylie could weip ; Then Robin in a full fair dale 75 Assemblit all his sheip. HOBIN AND MAKTKK. 301 Be that some part of Makyne's ail Out-throw his heart could creip; 1 1 i r fast he foliowt to assail, And till her tuke gude keip. 80 " Abyd, abyd, thou fair Makyne, A word for ony thing ; For all my luve it sail be thyne, Withouten departing. All hale ! thy heart for till have myne, 85 Is all my coveting : My sheip to morn, quhyle houris nyne, Will need of nae keiping." {< Eobin, thou hast heard sung and say, In gests and storys auld, 90 The man that will not when he may, Sail have nocht when he wald. I pray to heaven baith nicht and day, Be eiked their cares sae cauld, That presses first with thee to play 95 Be forrest, firth, or fauld." " Makyne, the nicht is soft and dry, The wether warm and fa!r, And the grene wod richt neir-hand by To walk attowre all where : 100 There may nae janglers us espy, That is in luve contrair ; Therin, Makyne, baith you and I, Unseen may mak repair." " Robin, that warld is now away, 105 And quyt brocht till an end, And nevir again thereto, perfay, Sail it be as thou wend ; For of my pain thou made but play, I words in vain did spend: 110 As thou hast done, sae sail I say, Muni on, I think to mend." T. 99, Bannatyne's MS. has tcoid, not tcoud. as in ed. 1770. 802 "Makyne, the hope of all my heil, My heart on thee is set, I'll evermair to thee be leil, 115 Quhyle I may live but lett, Never to fail as uthers feill, Quhat grace so eir I get." "Bobin, with thee I will not deill; Adieu, for this we met." 120 Makyne went hameward blyth enough, Outowre the holtis hair ; Pure Robin murnd, and Makyne leugh ; Scho sang, and he sicht sair : And so left him, bayth wo and wreuch, 125 In dolor and in care, Keipand his herd under a heuch, Amang the rushy gair. V. 117, Bannatyne's MS. reads as above feill, notfaill, as in ed. 1770. XIV. fetrttman, tell to ffit. DIALOGUE BETWEEN A PILGRIM AND HERDSMAN. The scene of this beautiful old ballad is laid near Walsingham in Norfolk, where was anciently an image of the Virgin Mary, famous over all Europe for the numerous pilgrimages made to it, and the great riches it possessed. Erasmus has given a very exact and humorous description of the superstitions practised there in his time. See his account of the Virgo Parathalassia, in his Colloquy, entitled, Peregrinatio Heligwnis Ergo. He tells us, the rich offerings in silver, gold, and precious stones, that were there shown him, were incredible, there being scarcely a person of any note in England but what some time or other paid a visit, or sent a present, to Our Lady of Walsingham. 1 At the disso- lution of the monasteries in 1538, this splendid image, with another from Ipswich, was carried to Chelsea, and there burnt in the presence or commissioners, who, we trust, did not burn the jewels and the finery. 1 See at the end of this ballad an account of the annual offerings of the Earls of Northumberland. GENTLE HERDSMAN, TELL TO ME. 303 This poem is printed from a copy in the Editor's folio MS., which had greatly suffered by the hand of tune ; but vestiges of several of the lines remaining, some conjectural supplements have been attempted, which, for greater exactness, are in this one ballad distinguished by italics. GENTLE heardsman, tell to me, Of curtesy I thee pray, Unto the towne of Walsingham Which is the right and ready way. " Unto the towne of Walsingham 5 The way is hard for to be gon ; And verry crooked are those pathes For you to find out all alone." Weere the miles doubled thrise, And the way never soe ill, 10 Itt were not enough for mine offence, 1 Itt is soe grievous and soe ill. " Thy yeeares are young, thy face is faire, Thy witts are weake, thy thoughts are greene ; Time hath not given thee leave, as yett, 15 For to committ so great a sinne." Yes, heardsman, yes, soe woldest thou say, If thou knewest soe much as I ; My witts, and thoughts, and all the rest, Have well deserved for to dye. 20 I am not what I seeme to bee, My clothes and sexe doe differ farr : I am a woman, woe is me ! Born to greeffe and irksome care. For my beloved, and well-beloved, 25 My wayward cruelty could kill : And though my teares will nought avail, Most dearely I bewail him still. He was the flower of noble wights, None ever more sincere colde bee ; 30 Of comely mien and shape hee was, And tenderlye hee loved mee. 804 GENTLE HERDSMAN, TELL TO MB. When thus I saw he foved me well, I grewe so proud his paine to see, That I, who did not know myselfe, 85 Thought ecorne of such a youth as hee. 2 And grew soe coy and nice to please, As women's lookes are often soe, He might not kisse, nor hand forsooth, Unlesse I willed him soe to doe. 4.0 Thus being wearyed with delayes To see I pittyed not his greeffe, He gott him to a secrett place, And there he dyed without releeffe. And for his sake these weeds I weare, 45 And sacriffice my tender age ; And every day He begg my bread, To undergoe this pilgrimage. Thus every day I fast and pray, And ever will doe till I dye ; 50 Aud gett me to some secrett place, For soe did hee, and soe will I. * Three of the following stanzas have been finely paraphrased by Dr. Goldsmith, in his charming ballad of Edirin and Emma ; the reader of tast will have a pleasure in comparing them with the original. ' And ' still I try'd each fickle art, Importunate and vain ; And while his passion touch'd my heart. I triumph'd in his pain. Till quite dejected with my scorn, He left me to my pride; And sought a solitude forlorn, In secret, where he dy'd. But mine the sorrow, mine the fault, And well my life shall pay ; I'll seek the solitude he sought, An I stretch me where he lay. And there forlorn, despairing hid. I'll lay me down and die : Twar so for ine that Edwin did, And so for him will I. KING KDWABD IV. AND THK TANNER OP TAMWOBTH. 305 Now, gentle heardsiiian, aske no more, But keepe my secretts I thee pray : Unto the towne of Walsingam 55 Show me the right and readye way. " Now goe thy wayes, and God before ! For he must ever guide thee still : Turne downe that dale, the right hand path, And soe, faire pilgrim, fare thee well ! " 60 %* To show what constant tribute was paid to OUB LADY OF WALSINGHAM, I shall give a few extracts from the " Household-Book of Henry Algernon Percy, 5th Earl of Northumberland." Printed 1770, 8vo. Sect. XLIII. page 337, &c. ITEM, My Lorde usith yerly to send afor Michaelmas for his Lordschip's Ofterynge to our Lady of Walsyngeham. 1 i ij d. ITEM, My Lorde usith ande accustumyth to sende yerely for the npholdynge of the Light of Wax which his Lordschip fynditli birnynge yerly befor our Lady of Walsyngham, contenynge xj Ib. of Wax in it after v ij d. ob. for the fyndynge of every Ib. redy wrought by a covenaunt maid with the Channon by great, for the hole yere, for the fyndinge of the said Lyght byrning, v i a. v i i ij d. ITEM, My Lord useth and accustomith to syende yerely to the Channon that kepith the Light before our Lady of Walsyngham, for his reward for the hole yere, for kepynge of the said Light, lightynge of it at all service tymes daily thorowt the yere, x ij d. ITEM, My Lord usith and accustomyth yerely to send to the Prest that kepith the Light, lyghtynge of it at all service tymes daily thorowt the yere, i ij s. i ij d. XV. $o. A SCOTTISH SONG. While in England verse was made the vehicle of controversy, and Popery was attacked in it by logical argument, or stinging satire, we may be sure the zeal of the Scottish Reformers would not suffer their pens to be idle, bur many a pasquil was discharged at the Romish priests, and their enormous encroachments on property. Of this kind perhaps is the following (preserved in Maitland's MS. Collection of Scottish poems in the Pepysian library): " Tak a Webster, that is kill, And a Miller, that will not steill, With ane Priest, that is not gredy, And lay ane deid corpse thame by, And, throw virtue of thame three, That deid corpse sail qwyknit be." Thus far all was fair : but the furious hatred of Popery led them to employ their rhymes in a still more licentious manner. It is a received tradition in Scotland, that at the time of the Reformation, ridiculous and obscene songs were composed to be sung by the rabble to the tunes of the most favourite hymns in the Latin Service Gretn Sleeces and Pudding Pies, (designed to ridicule the Popish Clergy,) is said to have been one of these metamorphosed hymns : Maggy Lander was another : John Anderson my Jo was a third. The original music of all these burlesque sonnets was very tine. To give a specimen of their manner, we have inserted one of the least offensive. The reader will pardon the meanness of rhe composition for the sake of the anecdote, which strongly maiks the spirit of the times. In the present edition this song is muc'i improved by some new readings communicated by a friend, who thinks by the " seven bairns," in stanza 2d, are meant the Seven Sacraments ; five of which were the spurious offspring of mother Church, as the first stanza contains a satirical allusion to the luxury of the Popish Clergy. The adaptation of solemn church music to these lu licrous pieces, and the jumble of idt as thereby occasioned, will account for the following fact, From the Records of the General Assembly in Scotland, called The LITTLE JOHN NOBODY. 333 Book of the Universal Kirk, p. 90, 7th July, 1568, it appears, that Thomas Bassendyne, printer in Edinburgh, printed " a psalme buik, in the end whereof was found printit ane bandy song, called Welcome Fortunes '." WOMAN. " JOHN Anderson my jo, cum in as ze gae bye, And ze sail get a sheips held weel baken in a pye ; Weel baken in a pye, and the haggis in a pat ; John Anderson my jo, cum in, and ze's get that." MAN. " And how doe ze, cummer ? and how hae ze threven? And how mony bairns hae ze?" Won. "Cummer, I hae seven." MAN. " Are they to zour awin gude man ?" WOM. " Na, cummer, na ; For five of tham were gotten quhan he was awa'." HI. little ;?>ol)n We have here a witty libel on the Reformation under King Edward VI., written about the year 1550, and preserved in the Pepys collection, British Museum, and Strype's Memoirs of Cranmer. The author artfully declines entering into the merits of the cause, and wholly reflects on the lives and actions of many of the reformed. It is so easy to find flaws and imperfections in the conduct of men, even the best of them, and still easier to make general exclamations about the profligacy of the present times, that no great point is gained by argu- ments of that sort, unless the author could have proved that the principles of the reformed Religion had a natural tendency to produce a corruption of manners ; whereas he indirectly owns, that their Reverend Father [Archbishop Cranmer] had used the most proper means to stem the torrent, by giving the people access to the Scriptures, by teaching them to pray with understanding, and by publishing homilies, and other religious tracts. It must, however, be acknowledged, that our libeller had at that time sufficient room for just satire. For under the banners of the reformed had enl^ted themselves many concealed papists who had private ends to gratify ; many that were of no 1 See also Biograph. Britan. 1st edit. vol. i. p. 177. 834 MTTLE JOHN NOBODY. religion ; mnny greedy courtiers, who thirsted after the possession ot the church; and many dissolute persons, who wanted to be exempt from all ecclesiastical censures : and as these men were loudest of all others in their cries for Reformation, so in effect none obstructed the regular progress of it so much, or by their vicious lives brought vexation and shame more on the truly venerable and pious Reformers. The reader will remark the fondness of our satirist for alliteration ; In this he was guilty of no affectation or singularity ; his versification is that of Pierce Plowman's Visions, in which a recurrence of similar letters is essential : to this he has only superadded rhyme, which in his time began to be the general practice. See an Essay on this very peculiar kind of metre, prefixed to book vi. in volume second. IN December, when the dayes draw to be short, After November, when the nights wax noysome and long, As I past by a place privily at a port I saw one sit by himself making a song : His last 1 talk of trifles, who told with his tongue That few were fast i' th' faith. I ' freyned 2 ' that freake Whether he wanted wit, or some had done him wrong. He said he was little John Nobody, that durst not speake. ' John Nobody," quoth I, " what news ? thou soon note and tell What maner men thou meane that are so mad." He said, " These gay gallants that wil construe the gospel, As Solomon the sage, with semblance full sad ; To discusse divinity they nought adread ; More meet it were for them to milk kye at a fleyke." ' Thou lyest," quoth I, " thou losel, like a lend lad." He said he was little John Nobody, that durst not speake. " Its meet for every man on this matter to talk, And the glorious gospel ghostly to have in mind ; It is sothe said that sect but much unseemly skalk, As boyes babble in books, that in scripture are blind ; Yet to their fancy soon a cause will find : As to live in lust, in lechery to leyke : Such caitives count to become of Cains kind 3 ; But that I little John Nobody durst not speake. 1 Perhaps He left talk. 2 feyned, MSS. and P.C. * Cain's kind.] So in Pierce the Plowman's Creed, the proud friars r< laid to be " J CajjmoS luutt," Vide sig. C y. V LITTLE JOHN NOBODY. 335 " For our reverend father hath set forth an order. Our service to be said in our seignours tongue ; As Solomon the sage set forth the scripture ; Our suffrages and services, with many a sweet song, With homilies and godly books us among ; That no stiff, stubborn stomacks we should freyke ; But wretches nere worse to do poor men wrong ; But that I little John Nobody dare not speake. " For bribery was never so great since born was our Lord, And whoredom was never les hated sith Christ harrowed hel, And poor men are so sore punished commonly through tho world That it would grieve any one that good is to hear tel. For al the homilies and good books, yet their hearts be so quel, That if a man do amisse with mischiefe they wil him wreake : The fashion of these new fellows it is so vile and fell ; But that I little John Nobody dare not speake. " Thus to live after their lust, that life would they have, And in lechery to leyke al their long life ; For al the preaching of Paul yet many a proud knave Wil move mischiefe in their mind both to maid and wife To briii g them in advoutry, or else they wil strife And in brawling about baudery Gods commandments breake . But of these frantic il fellowes, few of them do thrife ; Though I little John Nobody dare not speake. " If thou company with them, they wil currishly carp and not care According to their foolish fantacy ; but fast wil they naught ; Prayer with them is but prating ; therefore they it forbear. Both almes deeds and holiness they hate it in their thought : Therefore pray we to that prince, that with his bloud us bought, That he wil mend that is amiss : for many a manful freyke Is sorry for these sects, though they say little or nauglit ; And that I little John Nobody dare not once speaks'' 336 Q. ELIZABETH'S VEIISES WHILE PRISONER. Thus in NO place this NOBODY in NO time I met, Where NO man, ' ne ' 4 NOUGHT was, nor NOTHING did appear ; Through the sound of a synagogue for sorrow I swett, That ' Aeolus ' 5 through the eccho did cause me to hear. Then I drew me down into a dale whereas the dumb deer Did shiver for a shower ; but I shunted from a freyke : For I would no wight in this world wist who I were, But little John Nobody that dare not once speake. IV. Tntir* foijtle -Prfeoner at WBIT WITH CHARCOAL ON A SHUTTEK, are preserved by Hentzner, in that part of his Travels which has been reprinted in so elegant a munuer at Strawberry-Hill. In Hentzner 'a book they were wretchedly c erupted, but are here given as amended by his ingenious editor. The old orthography, and one or two ancient readings of Hentzner's copy, are here restored. OH, Fortune ! how thy restlesse wavering state Hath fraught with cares my troubled witt ! Witnes this present prisonn, whither fate Could beare me, and the joys I quit. Thou causedest the guiltie to be losed 5 From bandes, wherein are innocents inclosed : Causing the guiltles to be straite reserved, And freeing those that death hath well deserved. But by her envie can be nothing wroughte, So God send to my foes all they have though te. 10 A.D. MDLV. ELIZABETHS, PBISONNEB. Ver. 4, Could beare, is an ancient idiom, equivalent to did bear, or Itot/, borne. See below, the Beggar of Bednal Grten, ver. 57, Conld say. 4 then, MSS. and P.O. * Hercules, MSS. and p.c. THE HEIB OP LI.NNE. 337 V. Cfie &etr of Efnne. The original of this ballad is found in the Editor's folio MS., the breaches and defects in which rendered the insertion of supplemental stauzus necessary. These it is hoped the reader will pardon, as, indeed, the completion of the story was suggested by a modern ballad on a similar subject. From the Scottish phrases here and there discernible in this poem, it should seem to have been originally composed beyond the Tweed. The Heir of Linne appears not to have been a lord of parliament, but a laird, whose title went along with his estate. PART THE FIRST. LITHE and listen, gentlemen, To sing a song 1 will beginne : It is of a lord of faire Scotland, Which was the unthrifty heire of Linne. His father was a right good lord, 5 His mother a lady of high degree ; But they, alas ! were dead, him froe, And he lov'd keeping companie. To spend the daye with merry cheare, To drinke and revell every night, 10 To card and dice from eve to morne, It was, I ween, his hearts delighte. To ride, to runne, to rant, to roare, To alwaye spend and never spare, I wott, an' it were the king himselfe, 15 Of gold and fee he mote be bare. Soe fares the unthrifty Lord of Linne Till all his gold is gone and spent ; And he maun selle his Unities so broad, His house, and laudes, and all his rent. 20 His father had a keen stewarde, And John o' the Scales was called hee : But John is become .1 ueutel-mau, And John has gott both gold and fee. VOL. I. 7, 338 THE HEIK OF LINNE. Sayes, " Welcome, welcome, Lord of Linne, 25 Let nought disturb thy merry cheere ; Iff thou wilt sell thy landes soe broad, Good store of gold He give thee heere." " My gold is gone, my monej is spent ; My lande nowe take it unto thee : 30 Give me the golde, good John o' the Scales, And thine for aye my lande shall bee." Then John he did him to record draw, And John he cast him a gods-pennie l ; But for every pounde that John agreed, 35 The lande, I wis, was well worth three. He told him the gold upon the borde, He was right glad his land to winne ; " The gold is thine, the land is mine, And now He be the Lord of Linne." 40 Thus he hath sold his land soe broad, Both hill and holt, and moore and fenne, All but a poore and lonesome lodge, That stood far off in a lonely glenne. For soe he to his father hight. 45 " My sonne, when I am gonne," sayd hee, " Then thou wilt spend thy lande soe broad, And thou wilt spend thy gold so free. " But sweare me nowe upon the roode, That lonesome lodge thou'lt never spend ! 50 For when all the world doth frown on thee, Thou there shalt find a faithful friend." The heire of Linne is full of golde : " And come with me, my friends," sayd hee, " Let's drinke, and rant, and merry make, 55 And he that spares, ne'er mote he thee." 1 . e. earnest-money ; from the French ' denier a Dieu.' At this day when application is made to the Dean and Chapter of Carlisle to accept an exchange of the tenant under one of their leases, a piece of silver is pre- sented by the new tenant, which is still called a GocTs-penny. THE HEIR OP LINNE. They ranted, drank, and merry made, Till all his gold it waxed thinne ; And then his friendes they slunk away ; They left the unthrifty heire of Linne. 60 He had never a penny left in his purse, Never a penny left but three, And one was brass, another was lead, And another it was white money. " Nowe well-aday," sayd the heire of Linne, 65 " Nowe well-aday, and woe is mee, For when I was the Lord of Linne, I never wanted gold nor fee. " But many a trustye friend have I, And why shold I feel dole or care ? 70 He borrow of them all by turnes, Soe need I not be never bare." But one, I wis, was not at home ; Another had payd his gold away ; Another call'd him thriftless loone, 75 And bade him sharpely wend his way. M Now well-aday," said the heire of Linne, " Now well-aday, and woe is me ; For when I had my landes so broad, On me they liv'd right merrilee. 80 " To beg my bread from door to door, I wis, it were a brenning shame ; To rob and steal it were a sinne ; To worke, my limbs I cannot frame. " Now He away to lonesome lodge, 85 For there my father bade me wend : When all the world should frown on mee I there shold find a trusty friend." Ver. 63, 64, 65, &c. Sic MSS. z 2 340 THK HEIR OF LINNE. PART THE SECOND. Aw AT then hyed the heire of Linne, Oer hill and holt, and moor and fenne, Untill he came to lonesome lodge, That stood so lowe in a lonely glenne. He looked up, he looked downe, 5 In hope some comfort for to winne : But bare and lothly were the walles " Here's sorry cheare," quo' the heire of Linne. The little windowe, dim and darke, Was hung with ivy, brere, and ye we ; 10 No shimmering sunn here ever shone, No halesome breeze here ever blew. No chair, ne table he mote spye, No chearful hearth, ne welcome bed, Nought save a rope with renning noose, 15 That dangling hung up o'er his head. And over it in broad letters, These words were written so plain to see : " Ah ! gracelesse wretch, hast spent thine all, And brought thyselfe to penurie ? 20 " All this my boding mind misgave, I therefore left this trusty friend : Let it now sheeld thy foule disgrace, And all thy shame and sorrows end." Sorely shent wi' this rebuke, 25 Sorely shent was the heire of Linne ; His heart, I wis, was near to brast With guilt and sorrowe, shame and sinne. Never a word spake the heire of Linne, Never a word he spake but three : 30 " This is a trusty frieiid indeed, And is right welcome unto mee." Then round his necke the corde he drewe, And sprang aloft with his bodie, When lo ! the ceiling burst in twaine, 35 And to the ground came tumbliug hee. THE 1IEIR OF LINNE. 341 Astonyed lay the heire of Linne, Ne knewe if he were live or dead : At length he looked, and sawe a bille, And in it a key of gold so redd. 40 He took the bill, and lookt it on, Strait good comfort found he there : Itt told him of a hole in the wall, In which there stood three chests in-fere *. Two were full of the beaten golde, 45 The third was full of white money ; And over them in broad letters These words were written so plaine to see. " Once more, my sonne, I sette thee clere ; Amend thy life and follies past ; 50 For but thou amend thee of thy life, That rope must be thy end at last." " And let it bee," sayd the heire of Linne, " And let it bee, but if I amend 3 : For here I will make mine avow, 55 This reade 4 shall guide me to the end." Away then went with a merry cheare, Away then went the heire of Linne ; I wis, he neither ceas'd ne blanne, Till John o' the Scales house he did winne. 6C And when he came to John o' the Scales, Upp at the speere 5 then looked hee ; There sate three lords upon a rowe, Were drinking of the wine so free. V. 60, an old northern phrase. 1 In-fere, i. e. together. * '. c. unless I amend. 4 '. . advice, counsel. 5 Perhaps the hole in the door or window, by which it was speered, i. e. sparred, fastened, or shut. In Bale's 2J part of the Acts of Eng. Votaries, we have this phrase (foL. 38), "The dore thereof oft tymes cpened and / eared agayne." 342 THE HEIR OF LINNE. And John himself sate at the bord-head, 65 Because now Lord of Linne was hee ; " I pray thee," he said, " good John o' the Scales, One forty pence for to lend mee." " Away, away, thou thriftless loone ; Away, away, this may not bee : 70 For Christs curse on my head," he sayd, " If ever I trust thee one pennie." Then bespake the heire of Linne, To John o' the Scales wife then spake he : " Madame, some almes on me bestowe, 75 I pray for sweet Saint Charitie." " Away, away, thou thriftless loone, I swear thou gettest no almes of mee ; For if we shold hang any losel heere, The first we wold begin with thne." 80 Then bespake a good fellowe, Which sat at John o' the Scales his bord ; Sayd, " Turn againe, thou heire of Linne ; Some time thou wast a well good lord. "Some time a good fellow thou hast been, 85 And sparedst not thy gold and fee ; Therefore He lend thee forty pence, And other forty if need bee. " And ever I pray thee, John o' the Scales, To let him sit in thy companie : 50 For well I wot thou hadst his land, And a good bargain it was to thee." Up then spake him John o' the Scales, All wood he answer'd him againe : " Now Christs curse on my head," he sayd, 95 " But I did lose by that bargaine. " And here I proffer thee, heire of Linne, Before these lords so faire and free, Thou shalt have it backe again better cheape By a hundred markes than I had it of thee." THE HEIU OF LINXE. 843 " I drawo you to record, lords," he said, 101 With that be cast him a gods-pennie : " Now by my fay," sayd the heire of Linne, "And here, good John, is thy money." And he pull'd forth three bagges of gold, 105 And layd them down upon the bord : All woe begone was John o' the Scales, Soe shent he cold say never a word. He told him forth the good red gold. He told it forth with mickle dinne. 110 " The gold is thine, the land is mine, And now Ime againe the Lord of Linne." Sayes, " Have thou here, thou good fellowe, Forty pence thou didst lend mee : Now I am againe the Lord of Linne, 115 And forty pounds I will give thee. ** He make thee keeper of my forrest, Both of the wild deere and the tame ; For but I reward thy bounteous heart, I wis, good fellowe, I were to blame." 120 " Now well-aday !" sayth Joan o' the Scales ; " Now well-aday, and woe is my life ! Yesterday I was Lady of Linne, Now Ime but John o' the Scales his wife.'' "Now fare thee well," sayd the heire of Linne, 125 " Farewell now, John o' the Scales," said hee : " Christs curse light on me, if ever again I bring my lands in jeopardy." # * * V. 34. of part i., and 102 of part ii., cast is the reading of the MS. %* In the present edition of this ballad, several ancient readings are restored from the folio MS. 344 GASCOIG.NB's PRAISE OF THE FAIR BRIDGES. VI. ^rafee rjf ti)t dFatr afarfoartts Hatto J^antitsl, ON HEB HAVIHG A SCAB IN HER FOREHEAD. GEORGE GASCOIGNE was a celebrated poet in the early part of Qn een Elizabeth's reign, and appears to great advantage among the miscel- laneous writers of that age. He was author of three or four plays, and of many smaller poems ; one of the most remarkable of which is a satire in blank verse, called the Stede-glass, 157H, 4to. Gascoigne was born in Essex, educated in both universities, whence he removed to Gray's-inn ; but, disliking the study of the law, became first a dangler at court, and afterwards a soldier in the wars of the Low Countries. He had no great success in any of these pursuits, as appears from a poem of his, entitled, "Gascoigne's Wodmanship, written to Lord Gray of Wilton." Many of his epistles dedicatory, are dated in 1-V75, 1576, from "his poore house in Walthamstoe:" where he died a middle-aged man in 1578, according to Anth. Wood ; or rather in 1577, if he is the person meant in an old tract, entitled, " A Remembrance of the well employed Life and Godly End of George Gascoigne, Esq., who deceased at Stamford in Lincolnshire, Oct. 7. 1577, by Geo. Whetstone, gent, an eye-witness of his godly and charitable end iu this world," 4to, no date. [From a MS. of Oldys.] Mr. Thomas Warton thinks " Gascoigne has much exceeded all the poets of his age in smoothness and harmony of versification '." But the truth is, scarce any of the earlier poets of Queen Elizabeth's time are found deficient in "harmony and smoothness, though those qualities appear so rare in the writings of their successors. In the Paradise of dainty Devises 2 , (the Dodsley's Miscellany of those times,) will hardly be found one rough or inharmonious line 3 : whereas the numbers of Jonson, Donne, and most of their contemporaries, frequently otfend the ear, like the filing of a saw. Perhaps this is in some measure to be accounted for from the growing pedantry of that age, and from the writers affecting to run their lines into one another, after the manner of the Latin and Greek poets. The following poem (which tho elegant writer above quoted hath recommended to notice, as possessed of a delicacy rarely seen in that early state of our poetry) properly consists of Alexandrines of twelve and fourteen syllables, and is printed from two quarto black-letter col- 1 Observations on the Faerie Qttetn, vol. ii. p. 168. 2 Printed in 1578, 1596, and perhaps oftener, in 4to, black-letter. 3 The same is true of most of the poems in the Mirrour of Magistrate^ 1563, 4to, and also of Surrey's Poems, 1557. GASCOIGNE'S PRAISE OF THE FAIR BRIDGES. 345 Jections of Gascoigne's pieces ; the first entitled, li A hundreth sundrie llowers, bounde up iu one small posie, &c. London, imprinted for Richarde Smith :" without date, but from a letter of H. W. (p. 202), compared with the printer's epist. to the reader, it appears to have been published in 1572, or 3. The other is entitled, "The Posies of George Gascoigne, Esq. corrected, perfected, and augmented by the author, 1575. Printed at London, for Richard Smith," &c. No year, but the epist. dedicat. is dated 1576. In the title-page of this last (by way of printer's *, or bookseller's device) is an ornamental wood cut, tolerably well executed, wherein Time is represented drawing the figure of Truth out of a pit or cavern, with this legend, Occulta Veritas Tempore patet [R. s.] Tliis is mentioned, because it is not improbable but the accidental sight of this, or some other title-page containing the same device, suggested to Rubens that well-known design of a nimilar kind, which he has introduced into the Luxemburg Gallery , 5 and which has been so justly censured for the unnatural manner of its execution. In court whoso demaundes What dame doth most excell ; For my conceit I must needes say, Faire Bridges beares the bel. Upon whose lively cheeke, 5 To prove my judgment true, The rose and lillie seeme to strive For equall change of hewe. And therewithall so well Hir graces all agree, 10 No frowning cheere dare once presume In hir g'.voet face to bee. Although some lavishe lippes, Which like some other best, Will say the blemishe on hir browe 15 Disgraceth all the rest. Thereto I thus replie : God wotte, they little knowe The hidden cause of that mishap, Nor how the harm did growe ; 20 4 Heurie Binuemau. s Le Terns decouvre U Write. GASCOIGNE'S PRAISE OF THE FAIR BRIDGES For when Dame Nature first Had framde hir heavenly face, And thoroughly bedecked it With goodly gleames of grace ; It lyked hir so well : 25 " Lo here," quod she," a peece For perfect shape that passeth all Appelles' worke in Greece. " This bayt may chaunce to catche The greatest god of love, 30 Or mightie thundring Jove himself, That rules the roast above." But out, alas ! those wordes Were vaunted all in vayne ; And some unseen were present there, 35 Pore Bridges, to thy pain. For Cupide, crafty boy, Close in a corner stoode, Not blyndfold then, to gaze on hir : I gesse it did him good. 40 Yet when he felte the flame Gan kindle in his brest, And herd Dame Nature boast by hir To break him of his rest, His hot newe-chosen love 45 He chaunged into hate, And sodeynly with mightie mace Gau rap hir on the pate. It greeved Nature muche To see the cruell deede : 50 Mee seemes I see hir, how she wept To see hir dearling bleede. " Wei yet," quod she, " this hnrl Shal have some helpe I trowe ;" And quick with skin she covered it, 53 That whiter is than snowe. FAIR BOSAMOND. 347 Wherwith Dan Cupide fled, For feare of further flame, When angel-like he saw hir shine, Whome he had smit with shame. 60 Lo, thus was Bridges hurt In cradel of hir kind. The coward Cupide brake hir browe To wreke his wounded mynd. The skar still there remains ; 65 No force, there let it bee : There is no cloude that can eclipse So bright a sunne as she. V. 62, In cradel of hir kind : '. e. in the cradel of her family. See Warton's Observations, vol. ii. p. 137. %* The lady here celebrated was Catherine, daughter of Edmond second Lord Chandos, wife of William, Lord Sands, See CoUins'a Peerage, vol. ii. p. 133, ed. 1779. vn. Most of the circumstances in this popular story of King Henry II. and the beautiful Rosamond, have been taken for fact by our English historians, who, unable to account for the unnatural conduct of Queen Eleanor in stimulating her sons to rebellion, have attributed it to jealousy, and supposed that Henry's amour with Rosamond was the object of that passion. Our old English annalists seem, most of them, to have followed Higden, the monk of Chester, whose account, with some enlargements, is thus given by Stow : " Rosamond the fayre daughter of Walter lord Clifford, concubine to Henry II. (poisoned by queen Elianor, as some thought}, dyed at Woodstocke [A.D. 1177], where king Henry had made for her a house of wonderfull working ; so that no man or woman might come to her, but he that was instructed by the king, or such as were right secret with him touching the matter. This house after some was named Labyrinthus, or Dedalus worke, which was wrought like unto a knot in a garden, called a Maze; 1 but it was commonly said, that lastly 1 Consisting of vaults under ground, arched and walled with brick and ttone, according to Dray ton. See note on his Epistle of fiosamond. 348 FAIR ROSAMOND. the queene onme to her by a clue of thridde, or silke, and so dealt witn her, that she lived not long after: but when she was dead, she wns buried at Godstow in an house of nunnes, beside Oxford, with the^e verses upon her tonibe : HIC JACET IN TUMBA, ROSA MUNDI, NON ROSA MUNDA . NON REDOLET, SED OLET, QU^ REDOLERE SOLET. In English thus : " The rose of the world, but not the cleane flowre, Is now here graven ; to whom beauty was lent : In this grave full darke nowe is her bowre, That by her life was sweete and redolent : But now that she is from this life blent, Though she were sweete, now foully doth she stinke. A mirrour good for all men, that on her thinke." Stow's Annals, ed. 1631, p. 154. How the queen gained admittance into Kosamond's bower is dif- ferently related. Holinshed speaks of it, as '' the common report of the people, that the queene . . . founde hir out by a silken thread, which the king had drawne after him out of hir chamber with his foot, and dealt with hir in such sharpe and cruell wise, that she lived not long after." Vol. iii. p. 115. On the other hand, in Speed's Hist., we are told that the jealous queen found her out "by a clew of silke, fallen from Rosamund's lappe as shee sate to take ayre, and suddenly fleeing from the sight of the searcher, the end of her silke fastened to her foot, and the clew still unwinding, remained behinde : which the queene followed, till shee had found what she sought, and upon Rosamund so vented her epicene, as the lady lived not long after." 3rd edit. p. 509. Our ballad- maker, with more ingenuity, and probably as much truth, tells us the clue was gained by surprise, from the knight who was left to guard her bower. It is observable, that none of the old writers attribute Rosamond's death to poison (Stowe, above, mentions it merely as a slight con- jecture) ; they only give us to understand, that the queen treated her harshly ; with furious menaces, we may suppose, and sharp expostula- tions, which had such effect on her spirits, that she did not long survive it. Indeed, on her tomb-stone, as we learn from a person of credit, 2 among other fine sculptures, was engraven the figure of a cup. This, which, perhaps, at first was an accidental ornament (perhaps only the chalice), might in after-times suggest the notion that she was poisoned ; at least this construction was put upon it when the stone came to be demolished after the nunnery was dissolved. The account is that " the tombstone of Rosamund Clifford was taken up at Godstow, and broken in pieces, and that upon it were interchangeable weavings drawn out 2 Tho. Allen, of Glouc. Hall, Oxon, who died in 1632, aged 90. See Hearne's rambling discourse concerning Rosamond, at the end of Gul t tfeubrig. Hist. vol. iii. p. 739. FAIB EOSAMOND. 349 and decked with roses red and green, and the picture of the cup, ont of which she drank the poison given her by the queen, carved in stone." Rosamond's father having been a great benefactor to the nunnery of Godstow, where she had also resided herself in the innocent part of her life, her body was conveyed there, and buried in the middle of the choir; in which place it remained till the year 1191, when Hugh, bishop of Lincoln, caused it to be removed. The fact is recorded by Hoveden, a contemporary writer, whose words are thus translated by Stow : " Hugh, bishop of Lincolne, came to the abbey of nunnes, called Godstow, .... and when he had entred the church to pray, he saw a tombe in the middle of the quire, covered with a pall of bilke, and set about with lights of waxe : and demanding whose tomb it was, he was answered that it was the tombe of Rosamond, that was some time lemman to Henry II who for the love of her had done much good to that church. Then, quoth the bishop, take out of this place the harlot, and bury her without the church, lest Christian religion should grow in contempt ; and to the end that, through example of her, other women being made afraid, may beware, and keepe them- selves from unlawl'ull and advouterous company with men." Annals, p. 159. History further informs us, that King John repaired Godstow nunnery, and endowed it with yearly revenues, " that these holy virgins might releeve with their prayers the soules of his father king Henrie, and of lady Rosamund, there interred."* ... In what situation her remains were found at the dissolution of the nunnery, we learn from Leland : " Rosamundes tumbe at Godsttiwo nunnery was taken up [of] late ; it is a stone with this inscription, Tumba Rosamund**. Her bones were closid in lede, and withyn that bones were closyd yn lether. When it was opened, a very swete smell came owt of it." 4 See Hearne's discourse above quoted, written in 1718 at which time, he tells us, were still seen by the pool at Woodstock the foundations of a very lirge building, which were believed to be the remains of Rosamond's labyrinth. To conclude this (perhaps too prolix) account, Henry had two sons by Rosamond, from a computation of whose ages, a modern historian has endeavoured to invalidate the received story. These were William Longue-espe (or Long-sword), Earl of Salisbury, and Geoffrey, Bi.-hop of Lincolne. 5 Geoffrey was the younger of Rosamond's sons, and yet is said to have been twenty years old at the time of his election to that see in 1173. Hence this writer concludes, that King Henry fell in love with RosamonJ in 1149, when in King Stephen's reign he came over to be knighted by the King of Scots : he also thinks it probable that Henry's commerce with this la ly " broke off upon his marriage * Vide reign of Henry II. in Speed's History, writ by Dr. Barcham, Dean of Becking. 4 This would have passed for miraculous, if it had happened in th tomb of any clerical person, and a proof of his being a saint * Afterwards Archbishop of York. temp. Rich. I. 350 FAIR BOSAMOND. with Eleanor [in 1152], and that the young lady, by a natural effect of grief and resentment at the defection of her lover, entered on that occasion into the nunnery of Godstowe, where she died, probably before the rebellion of Henry's sons in 1 173." [Carte's Hist. vol. i. p. 652.] But let it be observed, that Henry was but sixteen years old when he came over to be knighted ; that he stayed but eight months in this island, and was almost all the time with the King of Scots ; that he did not return back to England till 1153, the year after his marriage witli Eleanor ; and that no writer drops the least hint of Rosamond's having ever been abroad with her lover, nor indeed is it probable that a boy of sixteen should venture to carry over a mistress to his mother's court. If all these circumstances are considered, Mr. Carte's account will be found more incoherent and improbable than that of the old ballad ; which is also countenanced by most of our old historians. Indeed, the true date of Geoffrey's birth, and consequently of Henry's commerce with Rosamond, seems to be best ascertained from an ancient manuscript in the Cotton library ; wherein it is thus registered of Geoffrey Plantagenet, "Natus est 5 Henry II. [1159.] Factus est miles 25 Henry II. [1179.] Elect, in Episcop. Lincoln. 28 Henry II. [1182]." Vide Chron. de Kirkstall (Domitian XII.), Drake's Hist, of York, p. 422. The ballad of Fair Rosamond appears to have been first published in " Strange Histories or Songs and Sonnets of Kinges, Princes, Dukes. Lords, Ladyes, Knights, and Gentlemen, &c. By Thomas Delone Lond. 1612," 4to. It is now printed (with conjectural emendations) from four ancient copies in black-letter ; two of them in the Pepyfi library. WHEN as King Henry rulde this land, The second of that name, Besides the queene, he dearly lovde A faire and comely dame. Most peerlesse was her beautye founde, 5 Her favour, and her face ; A sweeter creature in this worlde Could never prince embrace. Her crisped lockes like threads of golde, Appeard to each mans sight ; 10 Her sparkling eyes, like Orient pearles. Did cast a heavenlye light. The blood within her crystal cheekes Did such a colour drive, As though the lillye and the rose 16 For mastership did strive. FA III ROSAMOND. 351 Yea Eosamonde, fair Eosamonde, Her name was called so, To whom our queene, Dame Ellinor, Was known a deadlye foe. 20 The king therefore, for her defence Against the furious queene, At Woodstocke builded such a bower, The like was never seene. Most curiously that bower was built, 25 Of stone and timber strong ; An hundered and fifty doors Did to this bower belong : And they so cunninglye contriv'd, With turnings round about, 30 That none but with a clue of thread Could enter in or out. And for his love and ladyes sake, That was so faire and brighte, The keeping of this bower he gave 35 Unto a valiant knighte. But fortune, that doth often frowne Where she before did smile, The kiiiges delighte and ladyes joy Full soon shee did beguile : 40 For why, the kinges ungracious sonne, Whom he did high advance, Against his father raised war res Within the realme of France. But yet before our comelye king 45 The English land forsooke, Of Eosamond, his lady faire, His farewelle thus he tooke : " My Eosamonde, my only Eose, That pleasest best mine eye, 50 The fairest flower in all the worlde To feed my fantasye, 352 PAIB ROSAMOND. " The flower of mine affected lieart, Whose sweetness doth excelle, My royal Eose, a thousand times 55 I bid thee nowe farwelle ! " For I must leave my fairest flower, My sweetest Rose, a space, And cross the seas to famous France, Proud rebelles to abase. 60 " But yet, my Eose, be sure thou shalt My coming shortlye see, And in my heart, when hence I am, He beare my Eose with mee." When Eosamond, that ladye brighte, 65 Did heare the king saye soe, The sorrowe of her grieved heart Her outward lookes did showe. And from her cleare and crystall eyes The teares gusht out apace, 70 Which, like the silver-pearled dewe, Ranne downe her comely face. Her lippes, erst like the corall redde, Did waxe both wan and pale, And for the sorrow she conceivde 75 Her vitall spirits faile. And falling downe all in a swoone Before King Henives face, Full oft he in his princelye armes Her bodye did embrace. And twentye times, with watery eyes, He Mst her tender cheeke, Untill he had revivde againe Her senses milde and meeke. " Why grieves my Rose, my sweetest Rose ?" 85 The king did often say : * Because," quoth shee, " to bloodye warree My lord must part awaye. FAIR ROSAMOND. 3S3 " But since your Grace on forrayne coastes, Amonge your foes unkinde, 90 Must goe to hazard life and limbe, Why should I staye behinde? " Nay, rather let me, like a page, Your sworde and target beare ; That on my breast the blowes may lighte, 95 Which would offend you there. " Or lett mee, in your royal tent. Prepare your bed at nighte, And with sweete baths refresh your grace, At your returne from fighte. 100 " So I your presence may enjoye No toil I will refuse ; But wanting you, my life is death : " Nay, death lid rather chuse." " Content thy self, my dearest love, 105 Thy rest at home shall bee, In Englandes sweet and pleasant isle ; For travell fits not thee. " Faire ladies brooke not bloodye warres ; Soft peace their sexe delightes; 110 Not rugged canapes, but courtlye bowers ; Gay feastes, not cruell fightes. " My Eose shall safely here abide, With musicke passe the daye, Whilst I amonge the piercing pikes 115 My foes seeke far awaye. " My Eose shall shine in pearle and golde, Whilst Ime in armour dighte ; Gay galliards here my love shall dance, Whilst I my foes goe fighte. 1 20 " And you, Sir Thomas, whom I truste To bee my loves defence, Be carefull of my gallant Kose When I am parted hence/' ?OL. I. 2 A 7AIR BOSAMOND. And therewithall he i'etcht a sigli, 125 As though his heart would breake ; And Eosamonde, for very griefe, Not one plaine word could speake. And at their parting .veil they mighte In heart be grieved sore : 130 After that daye, faire Bosainonde The king did see no more. For when his Grace had past the seas, And into France was gone, With envious heart, Queene Ellinor 13b To Woodstocke came anone. And forth she calls this trustye knighte In an unhappy houre, Who, with his clue of twined -thread, Came from this famous bower. 140 And when that they had wounded him, The queene this thread did gette, And wente where Ladye Rosamonde Was like an angell sette. But when the queene with stedfast eye 145 Beheld her beauteous face, She was amazed in her minde At her exceeding grace. " Cast off from thee those robes," she said, " That riche and costlye bee ; 150 And drinke thou up this deadlye draught Which I have brought to thee." Then presentlye upon her knees Sweet Rosamonde did falle ; And pardon of the queene she crav'd 155 For her offences all. " Take pitty on my youthf ull yeares," Faire Rosamonde did crye ; 44 And lett mee not with poison stronge Enforced bee to dye. 160 FAIE ROSAMOND. 355 * I will renounce my sinfull life, And in some cloyster bide ; Or else be banisht, if you please, To range the world soe wide. " And for the fault which I have done, 165 Though I was forc'd theretoe, Preserve my life, and punish mee As you thinke meet to doe." And with these words, her lillie handes She wrunge full often there ; 170 And downe along her lovely face Did trickle many a teare. But nothing could this furious queene Therewith appeased bee ; The cup of deadly e poyson stronge, 175 As she knelt on her knee, She gave this comelye dame to drinke ; Who tooke it in her hand, And from her bended knee arose, And on her feet did stand, 180 And casting up her eyes to heaven, Shee did for mercye calle ; And drinking up the poison stronge, Her life she lost withalle. And when that death through everye limbe 185 Had showde its greatest spite, Her chiefest foes did plaine confesse Shee was a glorious wight. Her body then they did entomb, When life was fled away, 190 At Godstowe, neare to Oxford towne, As may be seene this day. it A 2 356 QUEEN ELEANOR'S CONFESSION. VIII. (Burnt 3Icaitor'$ Confession. "Eleanor, the daughter and heiress of William Duke of Guienne, and Count of Poictou, had been married sixteen years to Louis VII.. King of France, and had attended him in a croisade, which that monarch commanded against the infidels ; but having lost the affections of her husband, and even fallen under some suspicions of gallantry with a handsome Saraceu, Louis, more delicate than politic, procured a divorce from her, and restored her those rich provinces which, by her marriage, she had annexed to the crown of Fiance. The younj Count of Aujou, afterwards Henry II., King of England, though at that time but in his nineteenth year, neither discouraged by the disparity of age, nor by the reports of Eleanor's gallantry, made such successful courtship to that princess, that he married her six weeks after her divorce, and got possession of all her dominions as a dowry. A marriage thus founded upon interest was not likely to be very happy: it happened accordingly. Eleanor, who had disgusted her rirst husband by her gallantries, was no less offensive to her second by her jealousy : thus carrying to extremity, in the different parts of her life, every circumstance of female weakness. She had several sons by Henry, whom she spirited up to rebel against him; and endeavouring to escape to them disguised in man's apparel in 1173, she was discovered and thrown into a confinement, which seems to have continued till the death of her husband in 1189. She however survived him many years; dying in 1204, in the sixth year of the reign of her youngest son, John." See Hume's History, 4to, vol. i. pp. 260, 307. Speed, Stow, &c. It is needless to observe, that the following ballad (given, witb some correc-tious, from an old printed copy) is altogether fabulous : whatever gallantries Eleanor encouraged in the time of her first husband, none are imputed to her in that of her second. QUEENE Elianor was a sicke woman, And afraid that she should dye ; Then she sent for two fryars of France, To speke. with her speedilye. The king calld downe his nobles all, 5 By one, by two, by three, " Earl Marshall, lie go shrive the queene, And thou shalt wend with raee." QUEEN ELEANOR'S CONFESSION. 357 A boone, a boone ;'' quoth Earl Marshall, And fell on his bended knee ; 10 That whatsoever Qticene Elianor saye, No harme therof may bee." ' He pawne my landes," the king then cryd, " My sceptre, crowne, and all, That whatsoere Queen Elianor sayes, 15 No harme thereof shall fall. " Do thou put on a fryars coat, And He put on another ; And we will to Queen Elianor goe, Like fryar and his brother." 20 Thus both attired then they goe : When they came to Whitehall, The bells did ring, and the quiristers sing, And the torches did lighte them all. When that they came before the queene, 25 They fell on their bended knee ; " A boone, a boone, our gracious queene, That you sent so hastilee." " Are you two fryars of France," she sayd, " As I suppose you bee ? 30 But if you are two Englishe fryars, You shall hang on the gallowes tree." * We are two fryars of France," they sayd, " As you suppose we bee ; We have not been at any masse 35 Sith we came from the sea." " The first vile thing that ever I did, I will to you unfolde ; Earl Marshall had my maidenhed, Beneath this cloth of golde." 4C " Thats a vile sinne," then sayd the king ; " May God forgive it thee ! " * Amen, amen," quoth Earl Marshall ; With a heavye heart spake hee. 358 QUEEN ELEANOR'S CONFESSION. " The next vile thing that ever I did, 45 To you He not denye ; I made a boxe of poyson strong, To poison King Henrye." " Thats a vile sinne," then sayd the king, " May God forgive it thee ! " 50 " Amen, amen," quoth Earl Marshall ; " And I wish it so may bee." " The next vile thing that ever I did, To you I will discover ; I poysoned fair Rosamonde, 55 All in fair Woodstocke bower." " Thats a vile sinne," then sayd the king ; " May God forgive it thee ! " " Amen, amen," quoth Earl Marshall ; " And I wish it so may bee." 60 " Do you see yonders little boye, A tossing of the balle ? That is Earl Marshalls eldest sonne, And I love him the best of all. " Do you see yonders little boye, 65 A catching of the balle ? That is King Henryes youngest sonne, And I love him the worst of all. " His head is fashyon'd like a bull, His nose is like a boare, " 70 " No matter for that," King Henrye cryd, " I love him the better therfore." The king pulled off his fryars coate, And appeared all in redde ; She shrieked, and cryd, and wrung her hands, 75 And sayd she was betrayde. Ver. 63, 67. She means that the eldest of these two was by the Earl Marshall, the youngest by the king. THK STURDY KOCK. 359 The king lookt over his left shoulder, Aud a grimme look looked hee ; " Earl Marshall," he sayd, " but for my oathe, Or hanged thou shouldst bee." 80 IX. Tliis poem, subscribed M. T. [perhaps invertedly for T. Marshall '] is preserved in The Paradise of Dainfe Devises. The two first stanzas may be found accompanied with musical notes in " An howres recreation in musicke, &c., by Richard Alison, Lond. 1606, 4to :" usually bound up with three or four sets of " Madrigals set to music by Tho. Weelkes, Lond. 1597, 1600, 1608, 4to." Oue of these madrigals is so complete an example of the Bathos, that I cannot forbear presenting it to tlie reader. Thule, the period of cosmographie, Doth vaunt of Hecla, whose sulphureous fire Doth melt the frozen clime, and thaw the skie, Trinacrian /Kt mi's flames ascend not hier : These things seeme wondrous, yet more wondrous I, Whose heart with feare doth freeze, with love doth fry. The Andelnsian merchant, that returnes Laden with cutchinele and china dishes, Reports in Spaine, how strangely Fogo burnes Amidst an ocean full of flying fishes : These things seeme wondrous, yet more wondrous I, Whose heart with feare doth freeze, with love doth fry. Mr. Weelkes seems to have been of opinion, with many of his brethren of later times, that nonsense was best adapted to display the powers of musical composure. THE sturdy rock for all his strength By raging seas is rent in twaine : The marble stone is pearst at length With little drops of drizling rain : The oxe doth yeeld unto the yoke, 5 The steele obeyeth the hammer stroke. 1 Vide Athen. Ox. pp. 152, 316. 360 THE BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER cy BEDNALL GKEKN. The stately stngge, that seemes so stout } By yalping hounds at bay is set: The swiftest bird, that flies about, Is caught at length in fowlers net : 10 The greatest fish, in deepest brooke, Is soon deceived by subtill hooke. Yea man himselfe, unto whose will All things are bounden to obey, For all his wit and worthie skill, 15 Doth fade at length and fall away. There is nothing but time doeth waste ; The heavens, the earth consume at last. But vertue sits triumphing still Upon the throne of glorious fame : 20 Though spiteful death mans body kill, Yet hurts he not his vertuous name : By life or death what so betides, The state of vertue never slides. X. 'sf Uaucjfcter of This popular old ballad was written in the reign of Elizabeth, as appears not only from ver. 23, where the arms of England are called the " Queenes Armes," but from its tunes being quoted in other old pieces, written in her time. See tlje ballad on Mary Ambree in this volume. The late Mr. Guthrie assured the Editor, that he had formerly seen another old song on the same subject, composed in a different measure from this ; which was truly beautiful, if we may judge from the only stanza he remembered. In this it was said of the old beggar, that ' down his neck his reverend lockes In comelye curies did wave ; And on his aged temples grewe The blossomes of the grave." The following ballad is chiefly given from the Editor's folio MS. compared with two ancient printed copies ; the concluding stanzas, which contain the old beggar's discovery of himself, arc not, however, THE BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER OF BEDNALL-SREEN. 361 given from any of these, being very different from those of the vulgar ballad. Nor yet does the Editor offer them as genuine, but as a modern attempt to remove the absurdities and inconsistencies which s-o remark- ably prevailed in this part of the song as it stood before : whereas, by the alteration of a few lines, tlie story is rendered much more affecting, and is reconciled to probability and true history. For this informs us, that at the decisive battle of Evexham (fought August 4, 1265), when Simon de Montfurt, the great Earl of Leicester, was slain at tlie head of the barons, his eldest son Henry fell by his side, and, in consequenco of that defeat, his whole family sunk for ever, the king bestowing their great honours and possessions on his second son, Edmund, Earl of Lancaster. PART THE FIRST. ITT was a blind beggar, had long lost his sight, He had a faire daughter of bewty most bright ; And many a gallant brave suiter had shee, For none was soe comely e as pretty Bessee. And though shee was of favor most faire, 5 Yett seing shee was but a poor beggars heyre, Of aucyent housekeepers despised was shee, Whose sonnes came as suitors to prettye Bessee. Wherefore in great sorrow faire Bessy did say, " Good father, and mother, let me goe away 10 To seeke out my fortune, whatever itt bee." This suite then they granted to prettye Bessee. Then Bessy, that was of bewtye soe bright, All cladd in gray russett, and late in the night From father and mother alone parted shee, 15 Who sighed and sobbed for prettye Bessee. Shee went till shee came to Stratford-le-Bow, Then knew shee not whither, nor which way to goe ; With teares shee lamented her hard destinie, Soe sadd and soe heavy was pretty Bessee. 5 Shee kept on her journey untill it was day, And went unto Rumford along the hye way ; Where at the Queenes Armes entertained was shee, Soe faire and wel favoured was pretty Bessee. 362 THE BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER OF BEDNALL-GREKN. Slice had not beene there a month to an end, 25 But master and mistres and all was her friend ; And every brave gallant that once did her see Was straight-way enamourd of pretty Bessee. Great gifts they did send her of silver and gold, And in their songs daylye her love was extold ; 30 Her beawtye was blazed in every degree, Soe faire and soe comelye was pretty Bessee. The young men of Rumford in her had their joy ; Shee shewed herself curteous, and modestly e coye, And at her commandment still wold they bee, 35 Soe fayre and so comelye was pretty Bessee. Foure suitors att once unto her did goe, They craved her favor, but still she sayd noe ; " I wold not wish gentles to marry with mee, " Yett ever they honored prettye Bessee. 40 The first of them was a gallant young knight, And he came unto her disguisde in the night ; The second a gentleman of good degree, Who wooed and sued for prettye Bessee. A merchant of London, whose wealth was not small, He was the third suiter, and proper withall ; -46 Her masters owne sonne the fourth man must bee, Who swore he would dye for pretty Bessee. " And, if thou wilt marry with mee," quoth the knight, " He make thee a ladye with joy and delight ; 50 My hart's so enthralled by thy bewtie, That soone I shall dye for prettye Bessee." The gentleman sayd, " Come marry with mee, As fine as a ladye my Bessy shal bee ; My life is distressed, O heare me," quoth hee, 55 " And grant me thy love, my prettye Bessee." " Let me bee thy husband," the merchant cold say, " Thou shalt live in London both gallant and gay ; My shippes shall bring home rych Jewells for thee, And I will for ever love pretty Bessee." 60 THE BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER OF BEDNALL-GEEEN. 363 Then Bessy shee siighed, and thus shee did say ; " My father and mother I meane to obey ; First gett their good will, and be faithfull to mee, And you Bhall enjoye your pretty e Bessee." To every one this answer shee made ; 65 Wherfore unto her they joyfullye sayd, " This thing to fulfill we all doe agree ; But where dwells thy father, my prettye Bessee ? " " My father," shee said, " is soone to be scene ; The seely blind beggar of Bednall-greene, 70 That daylye sits begging for charitie, He is the good father of pretty Bessee. " His markes and his tokens are knowen very well ; He always is led with a dogg and a bell ; A seely olde man, God knoweth, is hee, 75 Yet hee is the father of pretty Bessee." " Nay then," quoth the merchant, " thou art not for mee ;" " Nor," quoth the innholder, " my wiffe thou shalt bee ;" " I lothe," sayd the gentle, " a beggars degree, And therefore, adevve, my pretty Bessee !" 80 " Why then," quoth the knight, " hap better or worse, I waighe not true love by the waight of the pursse, And bewtye is bewtye in every degree ; Then welcome unto me, my pretty Bessee. " With thee to thy father forthwith I will goe." 85 "Nay soft," quoth his kinsmen," it must not be soe : A poor beggars daughter noe ladye shal bee ; Then take thy adew of pretty Bessee." But soone after this, by breake of the day, The knight had from Rumford stole Bessy away ; 90 The younge men of Rumford, as thicke might bee, Rode after to feitch againe pretty Bessee. As swifte as the winde to ryde they were secne, Until they came neare unto Bednall-greene, And as the knight lighted most courteouslie, They all fought against him for pretty Bessee. 864 THE BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER OK BEDNALL- GREEN. But rescew came speedilye over the plaine. Or else the young knight for his love had been slaine ; This fray being ended, then straitway he see His kinsmen come rayling at pretty Bessee. 100 Then spake the blind beggar, "Although I bee poore, Yett rayle not against my child at my own doore ; Though shee be not decked in velvett and pearle, Yet will I dropp angells with you for my girle ; " And then if my gold may better her birthe, 105 And equall the gold that you lay on the earth, Then neyther rayle nor grudge you to see The blind beggars daughter a lady to bee. " But first you shall promise, and have itt well knowne, The gold that you drop shall all be your owne." 110 With that they replyed, " Contented bee wee." " Then here's," quoth the beggar, " for pretty Bessee." With that an angell he cast on the ground, And dropped, in angels, full three thousand l pound ; And oftentimes itt was proved most plaine, 115 For the gentlemens one, the beggar droppt twayne : Soe that the place wherin they did sitt With gold it was covered every whitt ; The gentlemen then having dropt all their store, Sayd, " Now, beggar, hold, for wee have noe more. 120 " Thou hast fulfilled thy promise arright ;" " Then marry," quoth he, " my girle to this knight ; And heere," added hee> " I will now throwe you dowiie, A hundred pounds more to buy her a gowne." The gentlemen all, that this treasure had seene, 125 Admired the beggar of Bednall-greene. And all those that were her suitors before, There fleshe for very anger they tore. Thus was faire Besse matched to the knight, And then made a ladye in others despite : 13C A fairer ladye there never was seene, Thau the blind beggars daughter of Bednall-greene. 1 In the Editor's folio MS. it is 500/. THK BEGGARS DAUGHTER OF BEDNALL-GKEEN. 365 But of their sumptuous marriage and feast, What brave lords and knights thither were prest, The SECOND FITT * shall set forth to your sight, 135 With marveilous pleasure, and wished delight. PART THE SECOND. OFF a blind beggars daughter most bright, That late was betrothed unto a younge knight, All the discourse therof you did see, But now comes the wedding of pretty Bessee. Within a gorgeous palace most brave, 5 Adorned with all the cost they cold have, This wedding was kept most surnptuouslie, And all for the creditt of pretty Bessee. All kind of dainties and delicates sweete Were bought for the banquet, as it was most meete ; Partridge, and plover, and venison most free, 11 Against the brave wedding of pretty Bessee. This marriage through England was spread by report, Soe that a great number thereto did resort, Of nobles and gentles in every degree, 15 And all for the fame of prettye Bessee. To church then went this gallant younge knight ; His bride followed after, an angell most bright, \\ ith troopes of ladyes, the like nere was seene As went with sweete Bessy of Bednall-greene. 20 This rnarryage being solempnized then, With musicke performed by the skilfullest men, The nobles and gentles sate downe at that tyde, Each one admiring the beautifull bryde. Now, after the sumptuous dinner was done, 25 To talke and to reason a number begunn, They talkt of the blind beggars daughter most bright, And what with his daughter he gave to the knight. * S>e an Essay on the Y,-ord F rr at the end of the Second Part. 866 THE BEGQAR'S DAUGHTER OF BEDNALL-GREEN. Then spake the nobles, " Much marveil have wee This jolly blind beggar wee cannot here see." 30 " My Lords," quoth the bride, " my father's so base He is loth with his presence these states to disgrace." " The prayse of a woman in questyon to bringe, Before her own face, were a flattering thinge ; But wee thinke thy father's baseness," quoth they, 35 " Might by thy bewtye be cleane put away." They had noe sooner these pleasant words spoke, But in comes the beggar claJd in a silke cloke, A faire velvet capp and a fether had hee, And now a musicyan, forsooth, he wold bee. 40 He had a daintye lute under his arme, He touched the strings, which made such a charme ; Saies, " Please you to heare any musicke of mee, He sing you a song of pretty Bessee." With that his lute he twanged straightway, 45 And thereon begann most sweetlye to play, And after that lessons were playd two or three, He strayu'd out this song most delicatelie : " A poore beggars daughter did dwell on a greene, Who for her fairenesse might well be a queene, 50 A blithe bonny lasse, and a daintye was shee, And many one called her pretty Bessee. " Her father hee had noe goods, nor noe land, But beggd for a penny all day with his hand, And yett to her marriage hee gave thousands three, 3 5 And still he hath somewhat for pretty Bessee. " And if any one here her berth doe disdaine, Her father is ready, with might and with maiue, To proove shee is come of noble degree, Therfore never flout att prettye Bessee." 60 With that the lords and the companye round With harty laughter were readye to swound ; Att last said the lords, " Full well wee may see, The bride and the beggar's behoulden to thoo." * So the folio MS. THE BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER OF BEDN ALL-GREEN. 367 On this the bride all blushing did rise, 65 The pearlie dropps standing within her faire eyes ; u O pardon my father, grave nobles," quoth shee, "- That throughe blind affection thus doteth on mee." " If this be thy father," the nobles did say, " Well may he be proud of this happy day, 70 Yett by his countenance well may wee see, His birth and his fortune did never agree. " And therfore, blind man, we pray thee bewray, (And looke that the truth thou to us doe say), Thy birth and thy parentage what itt may bee, 75 For the love that thou bearest to pretty Bessee." " Then give me leave, nobles and gentles, each one, One song more to sing and then I have done ; And if that itt may not winn good report, Then doe not give me a GROAT for my sport : 80 " [Sir Simon de Montfort my subject shal bee ; Once chiefe of all the great barons was hee, Yet fortune so cruelle this lorde did abase, Now loste and forgotten are hee and his race. 84 "When the barons in armes did King Henrye oppose, Sir Simon de Montfort their leader they chose ; A leader of courage undaunted was hee, And oft-times he made their enemyes flee. " At length in the battle on Eveshame plaine The barons were routed, and Montfort was slaine ; 90 Most fatall that battel did prove unto thee, Thoughe thou wast not borne then, my prettye Bessee ! " Along with the nobles that fell at that tyde, His eldest son Henrye, who fought by his side, Was fellde by a blowe he receivde in the fight ! 95 A blowe that deprivde him for ever of sight. " Among the dead bodyes all lifelesse he laye, Till evening drewe on of the following daye, When by a yong ladye discoverd was hee ; And this was thy mother, my prettye Bessee ! 100 V. 81, The eisjht succeeding stanzas are conjectmred to b the work it Robert Dodsley. Editor. 368 THE BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER OF BEDS ALL GREEN. " A barons faire daughter stept forth in the nighte To search for her father who fell in the fight, And seeing yong Montfort, where gasping he laye, Was moved with pitye and brought him awaye. 104 " In secrette she nurst him and swaged his paine, While he throughe the realme was beleevd to be slaine ; At lengthe his faire bride she consented to bee, And made him glad father of prettye Bessee. " And nowe lest oure foes our lives sholde betraye, We clothed ourselves in beggars arraye ; 110 Her jewelles shee solde, and hither came wee ; All our comfort and care was our prettye Bessee.] " And here have wee lived in fortunes despite, Thoughe poore, yet contented, with humble delighte : Full forty winters thus have I beene 115 A silly blind beggar of Bednall-greene. " And here, noble lordes, is ended the song Of one that once to your own ranke did belong; And thus have you learned a secrette from mee, That ne'er had beene knowne but for prettye Bessee." Now when the faire companye everye one 121 Had heard the strange tale in the song he had showne, They all were amazed, as well they might bee, Both at the blinde beggar and pretty Bessee. With that the faire bride they all did embrace, 125 Saying, " Sure thou art come of an honourable race ; Thy father likewise is of noble degree, And thou art well worthy a lady to bee." Thus was the feast ended with joye and delighte : A bridegroome most happy then was the young knighte, 130 In joy and felicitie long lived hee, All with his faire ladye, the pretty Bessee. %* The word FIT, for part, often occurs in our ancient ballads and metrical romances; which, being divided into several parts for the convenience of singing them at public entertainments, were in the intervals of the feast sung by fits, or intermissions. So Puttenham, in THE BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER OF BEDN ALL -GREEN. 369 his Art of English Poesie, 1589, says, " the Epithalaurie was divide< Bung." p. 41. From the same writer we learn some curious particulars relative to the state of ballad-singing in that age, that will throw light on the present subject : speaking of the quick returns of one manner of tune in the short measures used by common rhymers ; these, he says, " glut the cure, unless it be in small and popular musickes, sung by these Cantabanqui, upon benches and barrels heads, where they have none other audience then boys or country fellowes, that passe by them in the streete ; or else by blind harpers, or such like taverne Minstrels, that give a FIT of mirth for a groat, . . . their matter being for the most part stories of old time, as the tale of Sir Topas, the reportes of Bevis of Southampton, Guy of Warwicke, Adam Bell and Clymme of the Clough, and such other old romances or historical rimes, made pur- posely for recreation of the common people at Christmusse dinners and bridealts, and in tavernes and alehouses, and such other places of base resorte." p. 69. This species of entertainment, which seems to have been handed down from the ancient bards, was in the time of Puttenham falling into neglect ; but that it was not, even then, wholly excluded from more genteel assemblies, lie gives us room to infer from another passage. " We ourselves," says this courtly writer , 4 " have written for pleasure a little brief romance, or historical ditty, in the English tong, of the Isle of Great Britaine, in short and long meetres, and by breaches or divisions [i. e. FITS,] to be more commodiously sung to the harpe in places of assembly, where the company shal be desirous to heare of old adventures, and valiaunces of noble knights in times past, as are those of king Arthur and his knights of the round table, Sir Bevys of Southampton, Guy of Warwicke, and others like." p. 33. In more ancient times, no grand scene of festivity was complete without one of these reciters to entertain the company with feats of arms and tales of knighthood, or, as one of these old minstrels says, in the beginning of an ancient romance on Guy and Colbronde, in the Editor's folio MS. " When meate and drinke is great plentye, And lords and ladyes still wil bee, And sitt and solace lythe ; s Then itt is time for mee to speake, Of keene knightes, and kempes great, Such carping for to kythe." If we consider that a groat in the age of Elizabeth was more than equivalent to a shilling now, we shall find that the old harpers were even then, when their art was on the decline, upon a far more reputable footing than the ballad-singers of our time. The reciting of one such * He was one of Q. Elizabeth's gent, pensioners, at a time when the whole band consisted of men of distinguished birth and fortune. Vide At)u Ox. s Perhaps " blythe." VOL. I. 2 B 370 THE BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER OF BEDNALL-GREEN. ballad as this of the Beggar of Bednall-green, in two parts, was rewarded with half-a-crown of our money. And that they ma< I e a very respectable appearance, we may learn from the dre^s of the old beggar, in the pre- ceding ballad, p. 366. where he comes into company in the habit and character of one of these minstrels, being not known to be the bride's father till after her speech, ver. 68. The exordium of his song, and his claiming a groat for his reward, ver. 80, are peculiarly characteristic of that profession. Most of the old ballads begin in a pompous man tier, in order to captivate the attention of the audience, and induce them to purchase a recital of the song : and they seldom conclude the first part without large promises of still greater entertainment in the second. This was a necessary piece of art to incline the hearers to be at the expense of a second groat's- worth. Many of the old romances extend to eight or nine FITS, which would afford a considerable profit to the reciter. To return to the word FIT ; it seems at fine time to have peculiarly signified the pause, or breathing-time, between the several parts (answering to PASSTJS in the Visions of Fierce Plowman) : thus in the ancient ballad of Chevy- Chase, vol. i. p. 1, the first part ends with this line, " The first FIT here I fynde : " . e. here I come to the first pause or intermission. (See also vol. i. p. 18.) By degrees it came to signify the whole part or division receding the pause. (See the concluding verses of the First and econd Parts of "Adam Bell, Clym of the Clough, and William of Cloudesly," in vol. i. pp. 113 & 118.) This sense it had obtained so early as the time of Chaucer ; who thus concludes the first part of his rhyme of Sir Thopas (writ in ridicule of the old ballad romances) : " Lo ! lordis mine, here is a FITT ; If ye woll any more of it, To tell it woll I fonde." The word FIT indeed appears originally to have signified a poetic strain, verse, or poem ; lor in these senses it is used by the Anglo- Saxon writers. Thus king ^Elfred in his Boetius, having given a version of lib. 3, metr. 5, adds, Jjaj- e pifoom thap thap pirre apunjen hsept>e, page 65, i. e. " when wisdom had sung these [FITTS] verses." And in the Proem to the same book pon on pirte, " put into [FITT] verse." So in Cedmon, p. 45, peont> on pirre, seems to mean " composed a song," or " poem." The reader will trace this old Saxon phrase in the applica- tion of the word fond, in the foregoing passage of Chaucer. See Glossary. Spenser has used the word fit to denote " a strain of music." See his poem entitled, " Collin Clout's come home again," where he says, " The Shepherd of the ocean [Sir Walt. Raleigh] Provoked me to play some pleasant FIT. And when he heard the music which I made He found himself full greatlye pleas'd at it," &c. It is also used in the old ballad of King Estmere, vol. i. p. 51, v. 243. FANCY AND DE8IRK. 371 From being applied to music, this word was easily transferred t dancing ; thus in the old play of ILus'tli lu&entu, (described ii vol. i. p. 95, and p. 327,) Juventus says, " By the masse I would fayne go daunce a FITTE." And from being used as a part or division in a ballad, poem, &c., it is applied by Bale to a section or chapter in a book, though I believe in a sense of ridicule or sarcasm ; for thus he entitles two chnpters of his (gttglts}) Sorarnrg part ii. viz. fol. 49, " The fyrst FTTT of Anselme with Kynge'Wyllyain Rufus." fol. 50, " An other FYTT of Anselme with kynge Wyllyam Kufus." XL antJ StStre. BY THE EARL OF OXFORD. Edward Vere, Earl of Oxford, was in high fame for his poetical talents in the reign of Elizabeth : perhaps it is no injury to his reputa- tion, that few of his compositions are preserved for the inspection of impartial posterity. To gratify curiosity, we have inserted a sonnet of his, which is quoted with great encomiums for its " excellencie and wit," in Puttenham's Arte of Eng. PoesieJ and found entire in the Garland of Gnod-wiO,. A few more of his sonnets (distinguished by the initial letters E. O.) maybe seen in the Paradise ofdaintie Devieet. One of these is entitled " The complaint of a Lover, wearing blacke and tawnie." The only lines in it worth notice are these : " A crowne of baies shall that man ' beare ' Who triumphs over me ; For black and tawnie will I weare, Which mourning colours be." "We find in Hall's Chronicle, that when Queen Catharine of Arragon died, Jan. 8, 1536, ' Queen Anne [Bullen] ware YELLOWE for the mourning." And when this unfortunate princess lost her head, May 19, the same year, "on the ascension day following, the kyng for mourning ware WHYTE. ' fol. 227, 228. Edward, who was the 17th Earl of Oxford, of the family of Vere. succeeded his father in his title and honours in 1562, and died an aged man in 1604. See Mr. Walpole's A'oWe Authors. Athen. Ooxn, &c. 1 Lond. 1589, p. 172. 2 B 2 372 FANCY AND DKHIliE. COME hither shepherd's swayne : " Sir, what do you require ?" I praye thee, sbewe to me thy name. " My name is FOND DESIRE." When wert thou borne, Desire ? 5 " In pompe and pryme of May." By whom, sweet boy, wert thou begot ? " By fond Conceit, men say." Teli me, who was thy nurse ? " Fresh Youth in sugred joy." 10 What was thy meate and dayly foode ? " Sad sighes with great annoy." What hadst thou then to drinke ? " Unsavoury lovers teares." What cradle wert thou rocked in ? 15 " In hope devoyde of feares." What lulld thee then asleepe ? " Sweete speech, which likes me best." Tell me, where is thy dwelling place ? " In gentle hartes I rest." 20 What thing doth please thee most ? " To gaze on beautye stille." Whom dost thou thinke to be thy foe ? " Disdayn of my good wille." Doth companye displease ? 25 " Yes, surelye, many one." Where doth Desire delighte to live J " He loves to live alone." Doth either tyme or age Bring him unto decaye ? 30 " No, no, Desire both lives and dyes Ten thousand times a daye." Then, fond Desire, farewelle, Thou are no mate for mee ; I sholde be lothe, methinkes, to dwelle 35 With such a one as thee. SIB ANDREW BARTON. 373 XII. &tr 3n&rctu iiarton. 1 cannot give a better relation of the fact, which is the subject of the following ballad, than in an extract from the late Mr. Guthrie's Peerage ; which was begun upon a very elegant plan, but never finished. Vol. i. 4to, p. 22. "The transactions which did the greatest honour to the earl of Surrey ' and his family at this time [A.D. 1511], was their behaviour in the case of Barton, a Scotch sea-officer. This gentleman's father having suffered by sea from the Portuguese, he had obtained letters of marque for his two sons to make reprisals upon the subjects of Portugal. It is extremely probable, that the court of Scotland grant(d these letters with no very honest intention. The council-board of England, at which the earl of Surrey held the chief place, was daily pestered with complaints from the sailors and merchants, that Barton, who was called Sir Andrew Barton, under pretence of searching for Portuguese goods, interrupted the English navigation. Henry's situation at that time rendered him backward from breaking with Scotland, so that their complaints were but coldly received. The earl of Surrey, how- ever, could not smother his indignation, but gallantly declared at the council-board, that while he had an estate that could furnish out a ship, or a son that was capable of commanding one, the narrow seas should not be infested. " Sir Andrew Barton, who commanded the two Scotch ships, had the reputation of being one of the ablest sea-officers of his time. By his depredations, he had amassed great wealth, and his ships were very richly laden. Henry, notwithstanding his situation, could not refuse the generous offer made by the earl of Surrey. Two ships were immediately fitted out, and put to sea with letters of marque, under his two sons, Sir Thomas 2 and Sir Edward Howard. After encounter- ing a great deal of foul weather, Sir Thomas came up with the Lion, which was commanded by Sir Andrew Barton in person ; and Sir Edward came up with the Union, Barton's other ship [called by Hall the Bark of Scotland]. The engagement which ensued was extremely obstin_te on both sides ; but at last the fortune of the Howards pre- vailed. Sir Andrew was killed fighting bravely, and encouraging his men with his whistle, to hold out to the last; and the two Scotch ships with their crev.s were carried into the river Thames. [Aug. 2, 1511.] i4 This exploit had the more merit, as the two English commanders were in a manner volunteers in the service, by their father's order. But it seems to have laid the foundation of Sir Edward's fortune ; for, 1 Thomas Howard, afterw.ards created Duke of Norfolk. 2 Called by old historians Lord Howard, afterwards created Eari of Surrey in his father's lifetime. He was father of the poetical Earl jf Surrey. 374 BIK ANDREW BARTON. on the 7th of April, 1512, the king constituted him (according to Dug. dale) admiral of England, Wales, &c. " King James ' insisted ' upon satisfaction for the death of Barton, and capture of his ship: ' though' Henry had generously dismissed the crews, and even agreed that the parties accused might appear in his court of admiralty by their attornies, to vindicate themselves." This attair was in a great measure the cause of the battle of Flodden, in which James IV. lo-t his life. In the following ballad will be found perhaps some few deviations from the truth of history : to atone for which, it lias probably recorded many lesser facts, which history hath not condescended to relate. I take many of the little circumstances of the story to be real, because I find one of the most unlikely to be not very remote from the truth. In part ii. v. lr>6, it is said, that England had before "but two ships of war." Now the Great Harry had been built only seven years before, viz. in 1504 : which " was properly speaking the first ship in the English navy. Before this p< riod, when a prince wanted a fleet, he had no other expedient but hiring ships from the merchants." Hume. This ballad, which appears to have been written in the reign of Elizabeth, has received great improvements from the Editor's folio MS., wherein was an ancient c-opy, which, though very incorrect, seemed in many respects superior to the common ballad ; the latter being evidently modernized and abridged from it. The following text is however in some places amended and improved by the latter, (chiefly from a black-letter copy in the Pepys Collection,) as also by conjecture. THE FIRST PART. ' WHEN Flora with her fragrant flowers Bedeckt the earth so trim and gaye, And Neptune with his daintye showers Came to present the monthe of Maye ;' 3 King Henry e rode to take the ay re, 5 Over the river of Thames past hee ; When eighty merchants of London came, And downe they knelt upon their knee. " O yee are welcome, rich merchants, Good saylors, welcome unto mee." 1C They swore by the rood, they were saylors good, But rich merchants they cold not bee. " To France nor Flanders dare we pass, Nor Bordeaux voyage dare we fare ; And all for a rover that lyes on the seas, 15 Who robbs us of our merchant ware.' 5 Ver. 15, 83, robber. MS. * From the pr. copy. BIB ANDREW BA11TON. 375 King Henrye frownd. and turned him rounde, And swore by the Lord that was mickle of might, " I thought he had not beene in the world, Durst have wrought England such unright." 20 The merchants sighed, and said, "Alas !" And thus they did their answer frame ; " He is a proud Scott, that robbs on the seas, And Sir Andrewe Barton is his name." The king lookt over his left shoulder. '! And an angrye look then looked hee ; " Have I never a lorde in all my realme, Will feitch yond traytor unto race?" " Yea, that dare I," Lord Howard sayes; " Yea, that dare I, with heart and hand ; 30 If it please your grace to give me leave, Myselfe wil be the only man." " Thou art but yong," the kyng replyed, " Yond Scott hath numbred manye a yeare." " Trust me, my liege, lie make him quail, 35 Or before my prince I will never appeare." " Then bowemen and gunners thou shalt have, And chuse them over my realme so free ; Besides good mariners, and shipp-boyes, To guide the great shipp on the sea." 40 The first man that Lord Howard chose, Was the ablest gunner in all the realm, Thoughe he was threescore yeeres and ten ; Good Peter Simon was his name. " Peter," sais hee, " I must to the sea, 45 To bring home a traytor live or dead ; Before all others I have chosen thee, Of a hundred gunners to be the head." " If you, my lord, have chosen mee Of a hundred gunners to be the head, 50 Then hang me up on your maiue-mast tree, If I misse my marke one shilling bread." 4 V. 29, Lord Charles Howard. MS. 4 An old English word for breadth. 376 SIR ANDREW BARTON. My lord then chose a boweman rare, ' Whose active hands had gained fame ; 5 In Yorkshire was this gentleman borne, 55 And William Horseley was his name. 6 " Horseley," sayd he, " I must with speede Go seeke a traytor on the sea, And now of a hundred bowemen brave To be the head I have chosen thee." 60 " Jf you," quoth hee, " have chosen mee Of a hundred bowemen to be the head, On your main-mast He hanged bee, If I miss twelvescore one penny bread." With pikes, and gunnes, and bowemen bold, 65 This noble Howard is gone to the sea ; With a valyant heart and a pleasant cheare, Out at Thames mouth sayled he. And days he scant had sayled three, Upon the ' voyage ' he tooke in hand, 7 Z But there he mett with a laoble shipp, And stoutely made itt stay and stand. " Thou must tell me," Lord Howard said, " Now who thou art, and what's thy name ; And shewe me where thy dwelling is, 75 And whither bound, and whence thou came." " My name is Henry Hunt," quoth hee With a heavye heart, and a carefull mind ; " I and my shipp doe both belong To the Newcastle that stands upon Tyne." 80 " Hast thou not heard, nowe, Henrye Hunt, As thou hast sayled by daye and by night, Of a Scottish rover on the seas ; Men call him Sir Andrew Barton, knight ? " V. 70, journey. MS. 1 Pr. copy. e Mr. Lambe, in his notes to the poem on the Battle of Flodden Field, contends that this expert bowman's name was not Horseley, but Hustler, of a family long seated near Stockton, in Cleveland, Yorkshire. Vide p. 5. 8IH ANMUKW BARTON. 377 Then ever he sighed, and sayd, " Alas I" 85 With a grieved mind, and well away, " But over-well I knowe that wight ; I was his prisoner yesterday. " As I was sayling uppon ihe sea, A Bordeaux voyage for to fare, 90 To his hach-borde he clasped me, And robd me of all my merchant ware. And mickle debts, God wot, I owe, And every man will have his owne, And I am nowe to London bounde, 95 Of our gracious king to beg a boone." " That shall not need," Lord Howard sais ; " Lett me but once that robber see, For every penny tane thee froe It shall be doubled shillings three." 100 " Nowe God forefend," the merchant said, " That you.shold seek soe far amisse 1 God keepe you out of that traitors hands ! Full litle ye wott what a man hee is. " Hee is brasse within, and steele without, 105 With beanies on his topcastle stronge ; And eighteen pieces of ordinance He carries on each side along. And he hath a pinnace deerlye dight, St. Andre wes crosse, that is his guide ; 110 His pinnace beareth ninescore men, And fifteen canons on each side. " Were ye twenty e shippes, and he but one, I sweare by kirke, and bower, and hall, He wold overcome them everye one, 115 If once his beames they doe downe fall." 7 V. 91, the MS. has here archborde, but in part ii. ver. 5, hachtbord. * It should seem from hence, that before our marine artillery was brought to its present perfection, some naval commanders had recourse to instruments or machines, similar in use, though perhaps unlike in con- struction, to the heavy Dolphins, made of lead or iron, used by the ancient Greeks ; which they suspended from beams or yards fastened to the mast, and which they precipitately let fall on the enemy's ships, in order tc irk them, by beating holes through the bottoms of their undeckxl 378 SIB ANDREW BABTON. " This is cold comfort,' 1 sais my lord, " To wellcome a stranger thus to the sea : Yet lie bring him aud his shipp to shore, Or to Scottland hee shall carry e mee." 120 ' Then a noble gunner you must have, And he must aim well with his ee, And sinke his pinnace into the sea, Or else hee never orecome will bee. And if you chance his shipp to borde, 12o This counsel I must give withall, Let no man to his topcastle goe To strive to let his beams downe fall. " And seven pieces of ordinance, I pray your honour lend to mee, 130 On each side of my shipp along, And I will lead you 011 the sea. A glasse He sett, that may be seene, Whether you sayle by day or night ; And to-morrowe, I svveare, by nine of the clocke 135 You shall meet with Sir Andre we Barton, knight." THE SECOND PART. THE merchant sett my lorde a glasse, Soe well apparent in his sight, And on the morrowe, by nine of the clocke, He shewed him Sir Andrewe Barton, knight. His hachebord it was ' gilt ' with gold, 5 Soe deerlye dight it dazzled the ee ; " Nowe by my faith," Lord Howarde sais, " This is a gallant sight to see. " Take in your ancyents, standards eke, So close that no man may them see ; 10 And put me forth a white willowe wand, As merchants use to sayle the sea." V. 5, ' hached with gold.' MS. Triremes, or otherwise damaging them. These are mentioned by Thucy- dides, lib. vii, p. 256, ed. 1564, folio, and are more fully explained in Schefferi de Militia Navali, lib. ii. cap. v., p. 136, ed. lt>53, 4to. K.B. It everywhere in the MS. seems to be written beumes. SIB ANDREW BARTON. 379 But they stirred neither top nor mast; 9 Stoutly they past Sir Andrew by ; " What English churles are yonder," he sayd, 15 " That can sje litle curtesye ? " Now by the roode, three yeares and more I have been Admirall over the sea, And nevei an English nor Portingall Without my leave can passe this way." 20 Then called he forth his stout pinnace ; " Fetch backe yond pedlars nowe to mee : I sweare by the masse, yon English churles Shall all hang att my maine-mast tree." With that the pinnace itt shott off; 25 Full well Lord Howard might it ken ; For itt stroke down my lord's fore mast, And killed fourteen of his men. " Come hither, Simon," sayes my lord, " Looke that thy word be true, thou said ; 30 For at my maine-mast thou shalt hang, If thou misse thy marke one shilling bread." Simon was old, but his heart itt was bold ; His ordinance he laid right lowe, He put in chain full nine yardes long, 35 With other great shott, lesse and moe, And he lette goe his great gunnes shott ; Soe well he settled itt with his ee, The first sight that Sir Andrew sawe, He see his pinnace sunke in the sea. 40 And when he saw his pinnace sunke, Lord, how his heart with rage did swell ! " Nowe cutt my ropes, itt is time to be gon ; He fetch yond pedlars backe mysell." When my lord sawe Sir Andre we loose, 45 Within his heart hee was full faine ; " Nowe spread your ancyents, strike up drummes, Sound all your trumpetts out amaine." V. 35, . e. discharged chain-shot. i. e. did not salute. 380 SIR ANDREW BARTON. u Fight on, my men," Sir Andrewe sais, " Weale, howsoever this geere will sway ; 50 Itt is my lord admiral] of England, Is come to seeke mee on the sea." Simon had a sonne, who shott right well, That did Sir Andrewe mickle scare ; In att his decke he gave a shott, 55 Killed threescore of his men of warre. Then Henrye Hunt, with rigour hott, Came bravely on the other side ; Soone he drove downe his fore-mast tree, And killed fourscore men beside. 60 " Nowe, out alas !" Sir Andrewe cryed, " What may a man now thinke or say ? Yonder merchant theefe, that pierceth mee, He was my prisoner yesterday. " Come hither to me, thou Gordon good, 65 That aye wast ready att my call ; I will give thee three hundred markes, If thou wilt let my beames downe fall." Lord Howard hee then calld in haste. " Horseley see thou be true in stead ; 70 For thou shalt at the maine-mast hang, If thou misse twelvescore one penny bread." Then Gordon swarved the main-mast tree, He swarved it with might and maine ; But Horseley with a bearing arrowe, 75 Stroke the Gordon through the braine ; And he fell unto the haches again, And sore his deadlye wounde did bleed : Then word went through Sir Andrews men, How that the Gordon hee was dead. 80 " Come hither to mee, James Hambilton, Thou art my only sisters sonne ; If thou wilt let my beames dowue fall, Six hundred nobles thou hast wonne." V. 67, 84, pounds. MS. V. 75, bearinge, sc. that carries well, &c. But tee Gloss. SIB ANDREW BABTON. 381 With that he swarved the maine-mast tree, 85 He swarved it with nimble art ; But Horseley with a broad arrowe Pierced the Hambilton thorough the heart. And downe he fell upon the deck, That with his blood did streame amaine ; 90 Then every Scott cryed, "Well-away 1 Alas a comelye youth is slaine !" All woe begone was Sir Andrew then, With griefe and rage his heart did swell ; " Go fetch me forth my armour of proofe, 95 For I will to the topcastle myseU. " Goe fetch me forth my armonr of proofe ; That gilded is with gold soe cleare ; God be with my brother John of Barton ! Against the Portingalls hee it ware. 100 And when he had on this armour of proofe, He was a gallant sight to see ; Ah ! nere didst thou meet with living wight, My deere brother, could cope with thee." " Come hither, Horseley," sayes my lord, 105 " And looke your shaft that itt goe right ; Shoot a good shoote in time of need, And for it thou shalt be made a knight." " He shoot my best," quoth Horseley then, " Your honour shall see, with might and makie ; But if I were hanged at your maine-mast, 111 I have now left but arrowes twaine." Sir Andrew he did swarve the tree, With right good will he swarved then, Upon his breast did Horseley hitt, 115 But the arrow bounded back agen. Then Horseley spyed a privye place, With a perfect eye, in a secrette part Under the epole of his right arme He smote Sir Andrew to the heart. 120 882 SIB ANDBEW BARTON. " Fight on, my men," Sir Andrew sayee, " A little Ime hurt, but yett not slaiue ; He but lye downe and bleede a while, And then He rise and fight againe. Fight on, my men," Sir Andrew sayes, 125 ' And never flinche before the foe ; And stand fast by St. Andrewes crosse, Untill you hear my whistle bio we." They never heard his whistle blow, Which made their hearts waxe sore adread : 130 Then Horseley sayd, " Aboard, my lord, For well I wott Sir Andrew's dead." They boarded then his noble shipp, They boarded it with might and ma me ; Eighteen score Scots alive they found, 135 The rest were either maimed or slaine. Lord Howard tooke a sword in hand, And off he smote Sir Andrewes head ; " I must have left England many a daye, If thou wert alive as thou art dead." 140 He caused his body to be cast Over the hatchbord into f *e sea, And about his middle three hundred crownes : " Wherever thou land this will bury thee." Thus from the warres Lord Howard came, 145 And backe he sayled ore the maine ; With mickle joy and triumphing Into Thames mouth he came againe. Lord Howard then a letter wrote, And sealed it with seale and ring; 150 " Such a noble prize have I brought to Your Grace As never did subject to a king. w Sir Andrewes shipp I bring with mee, A braver shipp was never none ; Kbwe hath Your Grace two shipps of warr, 155 Before in England was but one." 8IB ANDBEW BARTON. 383 King Henryes grace with royall cheere Welcomed the noble Howard home ; " And where," said he " is this rover stout. That I myselfe may give the doome ?" 160 " The rover, he is safe, my leige, Full many a fadom in the sea ; If he were alive as he is dead, I must have left England many a day. And Your Grace may thank four men i' the ship 165 For the victory wee have wonne ; These are William Horseley, Henry Hunt, And Peter Simon, and his sonne." " To Henry Hunt," the king then sayd, " In lieu of what was from thee tane, 170 A noble a day now thou shalt have, Sir Andre wes jewels and his chayne. And Horseley thou shalt be a knight, And lands and livings shalt have store; Howard shall be Erie Surrye hight, 175 As Howards erst have beene before. " Nowe, Peter Simon, thou art old, I will maintaine thee and thy sonne ; And the men shall have five hundred markes For the good service they have done." 180 Then in came the queene with ladyes fair To see Sir Andrewe Barton, knight ; They rfeend that hee were brought on shore, And thought to have seen a gallant sight. But when they see his deadlye face, 185 And eyes soe hollow in his head, " I wold give," quoth the king, " a thousand inarkes, This man were alive as hee is dead. Yett for the maufull part hee playd, Which fought soe well with heart and hand, 190 His men shall have twelvepence a day, Till they come to my brother kings high land." V. 175, 6, .... trie of Nottingham, And soe was never, Sic. MS 884 LADY ANNE BOTHWELL' S LAMENT XIII. p amu Sotijtotll'a lament. 1 A SCOTTISH SONG. The subject of this pathetic ballad the Editor once thought might possibly relate to the Earl of Both well, and his desertion ot his wife, Lady Jean Gordon, to make room for his marriage with the Queen of Scots : but this opinion he now believes to be groundless ; indeed Earl Bothwell's age, which was upwards of 60 at the time of that marriage, renders it unlikely that he should be the object of so warm a passion as this elegy suppose." He has been since informed, that it entirely refers to a private story : A young lady of the name of Bothwell. or rather Boswell, having been, together with her child, deserted by ber husband or lover, composed these affecting lines herself, which here are given from a copy in the Editor's folio MS., corrected by another in Allau Ramsay's Miscellany. BALOW, my babe, lye still and sleipe ! It grieves me sair to see thee weipe : If thoust be silent, Ise be glad, Thy maining maks my heart ful sad. Balow, my boy, thy mothers joy, 5 Thy father breides me great annoy. Balow, my babe, ly stil and sleipe, It grieves me sair to see thee weepe. Whan he began to court my luve, And with his sugred wordes 2 to muve, 10 His faynings fals and flattering cheire To me that time did not appeire : But now I see, most cruell hee Cares neither for my babe nor mee. Balow, &c. 1 It is now an established fact that the unhappy Lady Anne was daughter to Bothwell, Bishop of Orkney. The faithless " father " was the lady's cousin, Alexander Erskine, son to the Earl of Mar. While in the service of the Covenanters, he came to his death in Douglass Castle, 1640. See Child's English and Scottish Ballads, IV., 123. Editor. * When sugar was first imported into Europe, it was a very great dainty ; and therefore the epithet sugred is used by all our old writers metaphorically, to express extreme and delicate sweetness. See above, p. 372, v. 10. Sugar at present is cheap and common ; and therefore suggests now a coarse and vulgar idea. LADY ANNE BOTHWELI/S LAML'NT. 385 Lye still, my darling, sleipe a while, 15 And when thou wakest, sweitly smile : But smile not, as thy father did, To cozen maids ; nay God forbid ! But yett I feire, thou wilt gae neire Thy fatheris hart and face to beire. 20 Balow, &c. I cannae chuse, but ever will Be luving to thy father still : Whair-eir he gae, whair-eir he ryde, My luve with him doth still abyde : In weil or wae, whair-eir he gae, 25 Mine hart can neire depart him frae. Balow, &c. But doe not, doe not, preltie mine, To fayniugs fals thine hart incline ; Be loyal to thy luver trew, And nevir change hir for a new : 30 If gude or faire, of hir have care, For womens banning's wonderous sair. Balow, &o. Bairne, sin thy cruel father is gane. Thy winsome smiles maun eise my paine ; My babe and I'll together live, 35 He'll comfort me when cares doe grieve : My babe and I right saft will ly, And quite forgeit man's cruelty. Balow, &c. Fare weil, fare weil, thou falsest youth, That evir kist a womans mouth 1 40 I wish all maides be \\arnd by mee Nevir to trust man's curtesy ; For if we doe bot chance to bow, They'll use us then they care not how. Balow, my babe, ly stil, and sleipe, 15 It grives me sair to see thee weipe. VOL. L 2 C 386 THE MUEDEB OF THE KING OF SCOTS. XIV. J)* iHurtfer of tije Sing of The catastrophe of Henry Stewart, Lord Darnley, the unfortunate husband of Mary, Queen of Scots, is the subject of this ballad. It is here related in that partial, imperfect manner, in which suet an event would naturally strike the subjects of another kingdom, of which he was a native. Henry appears to have been a vain, capricious, worthless young man, of weak understanding and dissolute- morals. But the beauty of his person and the inexperience of hiss youth, would dispose mankind to treat him with an indulgence, which the cruelty of his murder would afterwards convert into the most tender pity and regret; and then imagination would not fail to adorn his memory with all those virtues he ought to have possessed. This will account for the extra- vagant eulogium bestowed upon him in the fir^t stanza, &c. Henry, Lord Darnley was the eldest ton of the Eail of Lennox, by the Lady Margaret Douglas, niece of Henry VIII. anJ 'laughter of Margaret, Queen of Scotland, by the Earl of Angus, whom that princess married after the death of James IV. Darnley, who had been born and educated in England, was but in his 21st year when he was murdered, Feb. 9, 1567-8. This crime was perpetrated by the Earl of Bothwell, not out of respect to the memory of Rizzio, but in order to pave the way for his own marriage with the queen. This ballad (printed, with a few corrections, from the Editor's folio MS.) seems to have been written soon after Mary's escape into England in 1568, see v. 65. It will be remembered at v. 5, that this princess was Queen-dowager of France, having been first married to Francis II., who died Dec. 4, 1560. WOE worth, woe worth thee, false Scotlande ! For thou hast ever wrought by sleight ; The worthyest prince that ever was borne, You hanged under a cloud by night. The Queene of France a letter wrote, 5 And sealed itt with harte and ringe ; And bade him come Scotland within, And shee would marry and crowne him kiuge. To be a king is a pleasant thing, To bee a prince unto a peere : 1C But you have heard, and soe have I too, A man may well buy gold too deare. THE MtTKDKB OF THE KING OP SCOTS. 387 There was an Italyan in that place, Was as well beloved as ever was hee. Lord David was his name, Jb Ohamberlaine to the queene was hee. If the king had risen forth of his place, He wold have sate him downe in the cheare, And tho itt beseemed him not so well, Altho the kinge had beene present there. 20 Some lords in Scotlande waxed wrothe, And quarrelled with him for the nonce ; I shall you tell how it befell, Twelve daggers were in him att once. When the queene saw her chamberlaine was slaine, For him her faire cheeks shee did weete, 26 And made a vowe for a yeare and a day The king and shee wold not come in one sheete. Then some of the lords they waxed wrothe, And made their vow all vehementlye, 30 For the death of the queenes chamberlaine, The king himselfe, how he shall dye. With gun-powder they strewed his roome, And layd greene rushes in his way ; For the traitors thought that very night 35 This worthye king for to betray. To bedd the king he made him bowne ; To take his rest was his desire ; He was noe sooner cast on sleepe, But his chamber was on a biasing fire. 40 Up he lope, and the window brake. And hee had thirtye foote to fall ; Lord Bodwell kept a privy watch, Underneath his castle wall. " Who have wee here ? " Lord Bodwell aayd ; 45 " Now answer me, that I may know." " Bang Henry the Eighth my uncle was ; For his sweete sake some pitty show." Ver. 15, sic. MS. Lord David Rizzio. 2 o 2 A SONNET BY QITKKM KL1ZABRTH. " Who have we here '?" Lord Bod well sayd "Now answer me when I doe speake." 50 " Ah, Lord Bod well, I know thee well ; Some pitty on me I piay thee take." " He pitty thee as much," he sayd, " And as much favor show to thee, As thou didst to the queenes chamberlaine, 65 That day thou deemedst him to die 1 ." Through halls and towers the king they ledd, Through towers and castles that were nye, Through an arbor into an orchard, There on a peare-tree hanged him hye. 60 When the governor of Scotland heard How that the worthy e king was slaine, He pursued the queen so hitterlye, TLat in Scotland shee dare not remanie. But shee is fledd into merry England, 65 And here her residence hath taine, And through the queene of Englands grace, In England now shee doth remaine. 1 Pronounced after the northern manner dee. XV. The following lines, if tliey display no rich vein of poetry, are yet so strongly characteristic of their great and spirited authoress, that the insertion of them will be pardoned. They are preserved in Puttenham's Arte of Englith Poesie : a book in which are many sly addresses to the oueen's f< ible of shining as a poetess. The extraordinary manner in wuioii these verses ure introduced, shows what kind of homage was exacted from the courtly writers of that age, viz.: " I find," says this antiquated critic, ''none example in English metre, < well maintaining this figure [Exargasia, or the Goi'geous, Lat. Expolitio] as that dittie of her innjesties owne making, passing Bweete and harmonicall : which figure heyng, as his very original! name purj>ort<.th, the most bewtifml and gorgious of all others, it A SONNET BY QUEEN ELIZABETH. 389 sketh in reason to be reserved for a last complement, and desciphred by a ladies penne, hereelfe beyng the most bewtifull, or rather bewtie of queenes. 1 And tliis was the occasion; our soveraigne lady per- ceiving how the Scottish queenes residence within this realme at so great libertie and ease (as were skarce meete for so great and dangerous a prysoner) bred secret factions among her people, and made many of the nobilitie incline to favour her partie: some of them desirous of innovation in the state : others aspiring to greater fortunes by her libertie and life; the queene our soveraigne ladie, to declare that sl.o was nothing ignorant of those secret practizes, though she had long with great wisdome and pacie nee dissembled it, writeth this dittie most sweet and sententious, not idding from all such aspiring minds the danger of their ambition and disloyaltie ; which afterwards fell out most truly by th' exemplary chastisement of sundry persons, who in favour of the said Sc.t. Qu. declining from her majestie, sought to interrupt the quiet of the realme by many evill and undutifull practizes." This sonnet seems to Lave been composed in 1569, not long before the Duke of Norfolk, the Earls of Pembroke and Arundel, the Lord Lumley , Sir Xich. Throcmorton, and others, were taken into custody. See Hume, Eapin, &c. It was originally written in long lines, or Alexan- drines, each of which is here divided into two. The present edition is improved by some readings adopted from a copy printed in a collection from the papers of Sir John Harrington, intituled, Nugx Antique, Lond. 1769, 12mo, where the verses art ac- companied with a very curious letter, in which this sonnet is taid to le "of her Highness own inditing My Lady Willonghby did covertly get it on her Majesties tablet, and had much hazzard in so doing ; for the Queen did find out the thief, and chid for her spreading evil bruit of her writing such toyes, when other matters did so occupy her employment at this time ; and was fearful of being thought too lightly of for so doing. " * * * THE doubt of future foes Exiles my present joy ; And wit me warnes to shun such snares, As threaten mine annoy. For falshood now doth flow, 5 And subjects faith doth ebbe , Which would not be if reason rul'd, Or wisdome wove the \\ebbe. But clowdes of joyes untried Do cloake aspiring mindes ; 10 Which turn to raine of late repent, By course of changed windcs. Ver. 1, dread, al. ed. V. 9, toyes. a!, etl. 1 She was at this time near threescore. 390 KING OF SCOTS AND ANDREW BKOWN. The toppe of hope supposed The roote of ruthe will be ; And frutelesse all their graffed guiles. 15 As shortly all shall see. Then dazeld eyes with pride, Which great ambition bliudes, Sbal be unseeld by worthy wights, Whose foresight falshood finds. 20 The daughter of debate, 2 That discord ay doth sowe, Shall reape no gaine where former rule Hath taught stil peace to growe. No forreine bannisht wight 25 Shall ancre in this port ; Our realme it brookes no strangers force, Let them elsewhere resort. Our rusty sworde with rest Shall first his edge employ, 30 To poll the toppes that seeke such change, Or gape for such like joy. W %* I cannot help subjoining to the above sonnet another distich of Elizabeth's, preserved by Puttenham, (page 197,) " which (says he) our soveraigne lady wrote in defiance of fortune." " Never thinke you, Fortune can beare the sway, Where Vertue's force can cause her to obay." The slightest effusion of such a mind deserves attention. 2 She evidently means here the Queen of Scots. XVI. Ittng of ^cots anti &nfcrffo 23rotone. This ballad is a proof of the little intercourse that subsisted between the Scots and English before the accession of James I. to the crown of England. The tale which is here so circumstantially related, does not appear to have had the least foundation in history, but was probably KING OF SCOTS AND AXDREW BROWNE. 391 built upon some confused hearsay report of the tumults in Scotland uring tlie minority ot that prince, und of the conspiracies formed by < ift'erent fuctions to get posses.-ion of his person. It should seem, from ver. 97, to have been written during the regency, or at least before the death of the Earl of Morton, who was condemned aud executed, Juno 2, 1581, when James was in his 15th year. The original copy (preserved in the archives of the Antiquarian Society, London,) is entitled, " A new Ballad, declaring the great treason conspired against the youug King of Scots, and how one Andrew Biowne, an Englishman, which was the king's clmmberlaine, prevented the same. To the tune of Milfidd, or els to Grem Sleeves" At the *nd is sub- joined the name of the author, W. Eldert >n. "Imprinted at London for Ynratlie James, dwelling in Newgate Market, over against Ch. Church," in bl ick-letter, folio. This Kldt-rton, who had been originally an attorney in the sheriffs' courts of London, and afterwards (if we muy believe Oldys) a comedian, was a facetious fuddling companion, whose tippling and rhymes rendered him famous among his contemporaries. He was author of many popu- lar songs and ballads : and probably other pieces in these volumes besides the following, are of his composing. He is believed to have fallen a victim to his bottle before the year 1592. His epitaph has been recorded by Camden, and translated by Oldys : "HIC SITUS EST SITIEXS, ATQCJE EBRIUS ELDERTONUS, QUID DICO HIC SITUS EST? HIC POTIUS SITI3 EST." " Dead drunk here Elderton doth lie ; Dead as he is, he still is dry: So of him it may well be said, Here he, but not his thirst, is laid." See Stow's Lend. [Guild-hall.]- Biogr. Brit. [Drayton, by Oldys., Note B.] Ath. Ox. Camden's Remains. The Exale-tation of Ala among Beaumont's Poems, 8vo, 1653. ' OUT alas ! ' what a grief e is this, That princes subjects cannot be true, But still the devill hath some of his, Will play their parts whatsoever ensue ; Forgetting what a grievous thing 5 It is to offend the anointed king ! Alas for woe, why should it be so ? This makes a sorrowful heigh-ho. In Scotland is a bonnie kinge, As proper a youth as neede to be, 10 Well given to every happy thing, That can be in a kinge to see : 392 KING OF SOOTS AND ANDREW BROWNE. Yet that unluckie country still, Hath people given to craftie will. Alas for woe, &c. 15 On Whitsun eve it so befell, A posset was made to give the king, Whereof his ladie nurse kard tell, And that it was a poysoned thing : She cryed, and called piteouslie, 20 " Now help, or els the king shall die!" Alas for woe, &c. One Browne, that was an English man, And hard the ladies piteous crye, Out with his sword, and bestir'd him than, 25 Out of the doores in haste to flie ; But all the doores were made so fast, Out of a window he got at last. Alas for woe, &c. He met the bishop coming fast, 30 Having the posset in his hande : The sight of Browne made him aghast, Who bad him stoutly staie and stand. With him were two that ranne awa, For feare that Browne would make a fruy. 35 Alas for woe, &c. " Bishop," quoth Browne, " what hast thou there ? " " Nothing at all, my friend," sayde he, " But a posset to make the king good cheere." " Is it so ? " sayd Browne, " that will I see. 40 First I will have thyself begin, Before thou go any further in ; Be it weale or woe, it shall be so, This makes a sorrowful heigh-ho." The Bishop sayde, " Browne I doo kno\v, 45 Thou art a young man poore and bare ; Livings on thee I will bestowe ; Let me go on, take thou no care." KING OF SCOTS AND ANDREW BROWNS. 39ti *' No, no " quoth Browne. " I will not be A traitour for all Christiantie : 60 Happe well or woe, it shall be so, Drink now with a sorrowfull," &c. The bishop dranke, and by and by His belly burst and he fell downe : A just rewarde for his traitery ! 55 " This was a posset indeed," quoth Brown. He serched the bishop, and found the keyes, To come to the kinge when he did please. Alas for woe, &c. As soon as the king got word of this, 60 He humbly full uppon his knee, And praysed God that he did misse To tast of that extremity : For that he did perceive and know, His clergie would betray him so : 65 Alas for woe, &c. " Alas," he said " unhappie realme, My father and grandfather slaine : My mother banished, extreame Unhappy fate, and bitter bayne ! 70 And now like treason wrought for me, What more unhappie realme can be ! " Alas for woe, &c. The king did call his nurse to his grace, And gave her twenty poundes a yeere ; 75 And trustie Browne too in like case, He knighted him with gallant geere, And gave him ' lands and livings great,' For dooing such a manly feat, As he did showe, to the bishop's woe, 80 Which made, &c. Ver. 67. His father was Henry Lord Darnley. His gi andfather. the old Carl of Lennox, regent of Scotland, and father of Lord Darnley, was murdered at Stirling, Sep. 5, 1571. 894 KING OF SCOTS AND ANDREW BROWNE. When all this treason done and past Toeke not effect of traytery, Another treason at the last, They sought against his majestie ; 85 How they might make their kinge away By a privie banket on a daye. Alas for woe, &c. ' Another time ' to sell the king Beyonde the seas they had decreede : 9 J Three noble carles heard of this thing, And did prevent the same with speede. For a letter came, with such a charme, That they should doo their king no harme : For further woe, if they did soe, i)5 Would make a sorrowful heigh-hoe. The Earle Mourton told the Douglas then, " Take heede you do not offend the king ; But shew yourselves like honest men Obediently in every thing ; I CO For his godmother 1 will not see Her noble childe misus'd to be With any woe ; for if it be so, She will make," &c. God graunt all subjects may be true, 103 In England, Scotland, every where, That no such daunger may ensue, To put the prince or state in feare : That God, the highest king, may see Obedience as it ought to be. 110 In wealth or woe, God graunt it be so, To avoide the sorrowful heigh-ho. 1 Queen Elizabeth. THR KARL OF MURRAY. 395 XVII. Ci)t nanny Carl of iHurrap. A SCOTTISH SONG. Iti December, 1591, Francis Stewart, Earl of Both well, had made ail attempt to seize on the person of his sovereign, James VI., but beiny disappointed, had retired towards the north. The king unadvisedly gave a commission to George Gordon, Earl of Huntley, to pursue Both- well and his followers with fire and sword. Huntluy, under cover of executing that commission, took occasion to revenge a private quarrel he h;id against James Stewart, Earl of Murray, a relation of Both well's. In the night of Feb. 7, 1592, he beset Murray's house, burnt it to the ground, and slew Murray himself: a young nobleman of the most promising virtues, and the very darling of the people. See Robertson's History. The present Lord Murray hath now in his possession a picture of his ancestor naked and covered with wounds, which had been carried about, according to the custom of that age-, in order to inflame the populace to revenge his death. If this picture did not flatter, he well deserved the name of the BONNY EARL, for he ifl there represented as a tall and comely personage. It is a tradition in thi family, that Gordon of Bucky gave him a wound in the face : Murray, hall expiring, said ' You hae spilt a better face tlian your awin." Upon this, Bucky, pointing his dagger at Huntley's breast, swore, " You shall be as deep as I ; " and forced him to pierce the poor defenceless body. King James, who took no care tj punish the murderers, is said by some to have privately countenanced and abetted them, being stimu- lated by jealousy for some indiscreet praises which his queen had toe lavishly bestowed on this unfortunate youth. See the preface to the ballad. See also Mr. VValpole's Catalogue of Royal Authors, vol. Lp. 42 YE highlands and ye lawlands, Oh ! quhair hae ye been ? They hae slaine the Earl of Murray, Aud hae laid him on the green. Now wae be to thee, Huntley 1 5 And quhairfore did you sae ! I bade you bring him \vi' you, But forbade you him to slay. He was a braw gallant, And he rid at the ring ; 10 And ths bouuy Earl of Murray, Oh ! he mi ' r ht hae been a king. 396 YOUNG WATEKS. He was a braw gallant, And he played at the ba' ; And the bonny Earl of Murray 15 Was the flower among them a'. He was a braw gallant, And he playd at the gluve ; And the bonny Earl of Murray, Oh ! he was the Queenes luve. 20 Oh ! lang will his lady Luke ovvre the castle downe, 1 Ere slje see the Earl of Murray Cum sounding throw the towne. 1 Castle doxne here has been thought to mean the Castle of L>or:ne, <\ eat belonging to the family of Murray. XVIII. A SCOTTISH BALLAD. It has been suggested to the Editor, that this ballad covertly alludes to the indiscreet partiality which Queen Anne of Denmark is said to have shown for the bonny Earl of Murray ; and which is supposed to have in- fluenced the fate of that unhappy nobleman. Let the reader judge for himself. The following account of the murder is given by a contemporary writer, and a person of credit, Sir James Balfour, knight, Lynn King of Arms, whose MS. of the Annals of Scotland is in the Advocates' library at Edinburgh. " The seventh of Febry, this zeire, 1592, the Earle of Murray was cruelly murthered by the Earle of Huntley at his house in Dunibrissel in Fyffe-shyre, and with him Dunbar, sheriffe of Murray. It was given out and publickly talkt, that the Earle of Huntley was only the instru- ment of perpetrating this facte, to satisfie the King's jealousie of Murray, quhurn the Queene, more ras-hely than wisely, ? ome few days before had cominendit in the King's hearing, with too many epithets of a proper and gallant man. Tlie reasons of these surmises proceedit from a proclaiuatione of the Kings, the 13 of Marchu following ; inhibiteine the zoung Earle of Murray to persue the Earle of Huntley, for his father's slaughter, in respect he being wardeit [imprisoned] in the castell of YOUNG WATEH8. 39? I51af kncssc for the same murther, was willing to aMde a tryall, averring that he had done nothing but by the King's majesties conunissione ; and was neither airt nor part in the murther." 1 The following ballad is here given from a copy printed not long since nt Glasgow, in one sheet, 8vo. The world was indebted for its publica- tion to the Lady Jean Hume, sister to the Earle of Hume, who died at Gibraltar. ABOUT Zule, quhen the wind blew cule, And the round tables began, A' ! there is cum to our kings court Mony a well-favourd man. The queen luikt owre the castle wa, 5 Beheld baith dale iMid down, And then she saw zoung Waters Cum riding to the town. His footmen they did rin before, His horsemen rade behind ; 10 Ane mantel of the burning gowd Did keip him frae the wind. Gowden graith'd his horse before, And siller shod behind ; The horse zong Waters rade upon 15 Was fleeter than the wind. But than spake a wylie lord, Unto the queen said he : " O tell me qhua's the fairest face Bides in the company ?" 20 " I've sene lord, and I've sene laird, And knights of high degree, Bot a fairer face than zoung Waters Mine eyne did never see." Out then spack the jealous king 25 (And an angry man was he) : ** O, if he had been twice as fair, Zou micht have excepted me." 1 Th extract Li copied from the Critical Review.. 35)8 YOUNG WATEKS. " Zou're neither laird nor lord," she says, " Bot the king that wears the crown ; 30 Theris not a knight in fair Scotland' Bot to thee maun bow down." For a' that she could do or say, Appeasd he wad nae bee ; Bot for the words which she had said 35 Zoung Watars he maun dee. They hae taen zoung Waters, and Put fetters to his feet ; They hae taen zoung Waters, and Thrown him in dungeon deep. 40 " Aft I have ridden thro' Stirling town, In the wind both and the weit ; Bot I neir rade thro' Stirling town Wi fetters at my feet. " Aft have I ridden thro' Stirling town, 45 In the wind both and the rain ; Bot I neir rade thro' Stirling town Neir to return again." They hae taen to the hei ding-hill 2 His zoung son in his craddle ; 50 And they hae taen to the heiding-hill His horse both and his saddle. They hae taen to the heiding-hill His lady fair to see ; And for the words the queen had spoke 55 Zoung Waters he did dee. 1 ffeiaing-fiill ; i. e. heading [beheading] hill. The place of executio;, w;is an artificial hillock. MABY AMBRKE. 390 XIX. tn the year 1584, the Spaniards, under the command of Alexander Faruese, Prince of Parma, began to gain great advantages in Flanders and Brabant, by recovering many strong-holds and cities from the Hollanders, as Ghent, (called then by the English Gaunt.) Antwerp, Mechlin, &c. See Stow's Annals, p. 711. Some attempt made, with the assistance of English volunteers, to retrieve the former of those; places, probably gave occasion to this ballad. I can find no mention of our heroine in history, but the following rhymes rendered her famous among our poets. Ben Jonson often mentions her and calls any remark- able virago by her name. See his Epicxne, first acted in lt>09, act 4, sc. 2: his Tale of a Tub, act 1, sc. 4 : and his masque entitled the Fortunate Isles, 1(526, where he quotes the very words of the ballad : " - Mary Ambree, (Who marched so free To the siege of Gaunt. And death could not daunt, As the ballad doth vaunt) Were a braver wight," &c. She is also mentioned in Fletcher's Scornful Lady, act 5, sub finem " - My large gentlewoman, my Mary Ambree, hud I but seen into you, you should have had another bedfellow. - " It is likewise evident, that she is the virago intended by Butler in Hudibras, (p. i. c. iii. v. 365,) by her being coupled with Joan d'Aic, tin celebrated Pucelle d'Orleans. " A bold virago stout and tall As Joan of France, or English Mall." This ballad is printed from a bLick-letter copy in the Pepys collec- tion, improved from the Editor's folio MS. and by conjecture. The full title is, " the valorous acts performed at Gaunt by the brave bonuie lass Mary Ambree, who in revenge of her lovers death did play her part most gallantly. The tune is The Blind Beggar, &c. WHEN captaines couragious, whom death cold not daunt*.. Did march to the siege of the citty of Gaunt, They mustred their souldiers by two and by three And the formost in battle was Mary Ambree. When brave Sir John Major 1 was slaine in her sight, Who was her true lover, her joy, and delight, 6 Because he was slaine most troacherouslie, Then vowd to revenge him Mary Ambree. 1 So MS. Serjeant Major, in P.C. 400 MAIIY AMBUEK. She clothed herselfe from the top to the toe, In buffe of the bravest, most seemelye to showe ; 10 A faire shirt of male 2 then slipped on shee : Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree ? A helmett of proofe shee strait did provide, A strong arm inge- sword shee girt by her side, On her hand a goodly faire gauntktt put shee : 15 Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree ? Then tooke shee her sworde and her tnrgett in hand, Bidding all such, as wold, bee of her band ; To wayte on her person came thousand and three : Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree ? 20 " My soldiers," she saith, " soe valiant and bold, Nowe followe your captaine, whom you doe beholde ; Still formost in battel myselfe will I bee :" Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree ? Then cryed out her souldiers, and loude they did say, " Soe well thou becomest this gallant array, 26 Thy harte and thy weapons soe well do agree, Noe mayden was ever like Mary Ambree." Shee cheared her souldiers, that foughten for life, With ancyent and standard, with drum and with fife, 30 With brave clanging trumpetts, that sounded so free ; Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree ? " Before I will see the worst of you all To come into danger of death or of thrall, This hand and this life I will venture so free :" 35 Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree ? Shee led upp her souldiers in battaile array, Gainst three times theyr number by breake of the daye ; Seven howers in skirmish continued shee : Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree ? dO 2 A peculiar kind of armour, composed of small rings of iron, and worn under the clothes. It is mentioned by Spenser, who speaks of the Irish gallowglass, or foot-soldier, as " armed in a long shirt of mayl." (View of the State of Ireland.) MAKY AMBREE. 401 She filled the skyes with the smoke of her shott, And her enemyes bodyes with bullets soe hott ; For one of her owne men a score killed shee : Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree ? And when her false gunner, to spoyle her intent, 45 Away all her pellets and powder had sent, Straight with her keen weapon shee slash t him in three : Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree ? e Being falselye betrayed for lucre of hyre, At length she was forced to make a re tyre ; 50 Then her souldiers into a strong castle drew shee Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree ? Her foes they besett her on everye side, As thinking close siege shee cold never abide ; To beate down the walles they all did decree : 55 But stoutlye deffyd them brave Mary Ambree. Then tooke shee her sword and her targett in hand, And mounting the walls all undaunted did stand, There daring their captaines to match any three : O what a brave captaine was Mary Ambree ! 60 " Now saye, English Captaine, what woldest thou give To ransome thy selfe, which else must not live ? Come yield thy selfe quicklye, or slaine thou must bee :" Then smiled sweetlye brave Mary Ambree. " Ye captaines couragious, of valour so bold, 65 Whom thinke you before you now you doe behold?" " A knight, sir, of England, and captaine soe free, Who shortelye with us a prisoner must bee." " No captaine of England ; behold in your sight Two brests in my bosome, and therfore no knight : 70 Noe knight, sirs, of England, nor captaine you see, But a poor simple mayden called Mary Ambree." " But art thou a woman, as thou dost declare, Whose valor hath proved so undaunted in warre? If England doth yield such brave maydens as thee, 75 Full well may they conquer, faire Mary Ambree." VOL. i. 2 D 402 BRAVE LORD WILLOIJOHBEY. The prince of Great Parma heard of her ronowne Who long had advanced for Englands faire crowno ; Hee wooed her and sued her his mistress to bee, And offerd rich presents to Mary Ambree. 80 But this virtuous mayden despised them all : " He nere sell my honour for purple nor pall ; A mayden of England, sir, never will bee The whore of a monarcke," quoth Mary Ambree. Then to her owne country shee backe did returne, 85 Still holding the foes of faire England in scorne ; Therfore English captaines of every degree Sing forth the brave valours of Mary Ambree. XX. 33rabe Peregrine Bertie, Lord Willoughby of Eresby, had, in the year 1586, distinguished himself at the siege of Zutphen, in the Low Countries. He was, the year after, made general of the English forces in the United Provinces, in room of the Earl of Leicester, who was recalled. This gave him an opportunity of signalizing his courage and military skill in several actions against the Spaniards. One of these, greatly exaggerated by popular report, is probably the subject of this old ballad, which, on account of its flattering encomiums on English valour, hath always been a favourite with the people. " My lord Willoughbie (says a contemporary writer) was one of the queenes best swordsmen : ..... he was a great master of the art military ....... I have heard it spoken, that had he not slighted the court, but applied himself to the queene, he might have enjoyed a plentifull portion of her grace : and it was his saying, and it did him no good, that he was none of the Beptilia ; intimating, that he could not creepe on the ground, and that the court was not his element ; for, indeed, as he was a great souldier, so he was of suitable magnanimitie, and could not brooke the obsequiousnesse and assiduitie of the court." (Naunton.) Lord Willoughbie died in 1601. Both Norris and Turner were famous among the military men of that age. The subject of this ballad (which is printed from an old black-letter copy, with some conjectural emendations), may possibly receive illus- tration from what Chapman says, in the dedication to his version of 1 Lord Willoughby was the son of the noble lady who figures as the heroine of the well-known ballad, The Duchess of Su/olk's Cai-imity. Editor. BBATE LORD WILLOUGHBET. 403 Homer's Frogs and Mice, concerning the brave and memorable retreat of Sir John Norris, with only 1000 men, through the whole Spanish army under the Duke of Parma, for three miles together. THE fifteenth day of July, With glistering spear and shield. A famous fight in Flanders Was foughten in the field : The most couragiotis officers 5 Were English captains three ; But the bravest man in battel Was brave Lord Willoughbey. The next was Captain Norris, A valiant man was hee ; 10 The other Captain Turner, From field would never flee. With fifteen hundred fighting men, Alas ! there were no more, They fought with fourteen thousand men, 15 Upon the bloody shore. " Stand to it, noble pikemen, And look you round about : And shoot you right, you bow-men, And we will keep them out. 20 You musquet and calliver men, Do you prove true to me : I'le be the formost man in fight," Says brave Lord Willoughbey. And then the bloody enemy 26 They fiercely did assail, And fought it out most furiously, Not doubting to prevail. The wounded men on both sides fell, Most pitious for to see, 80 Yet nothing could the courage quell Of brave Lord Willoughbey. For seven hours, to all mens view, This fight endured sore, Until our men so feeble grew That they could fight no more ; 2 D 2 404 BRAVE LOhD WILLOUGHBEY. And then upon dead horses, Full savourly they eat, And drank the puddle water, They could no better get. 40 When they had fed so freely, They kneeled on the ground, And praised God devoutly For the favour they had found ; And beating up their colours, 45 The fight they did renew, And turning tow'rds the Spaniard, A thousand more they slew. The sharp steel-pointed arrows, And bullets thick did fly ; 50 Then did our valiant soldiers Charge on most furiously : Which made the Spaniards waver ; They thought it best to flee ; They fear'd the stout behaviour 55 Of brave Lord Willoughbey. Then quoth the Spanish general, " Come, let us march away ; I fear we shall be spoiled all If here we longer stay ; 60 For yonder comes Lord Willoughbey, With courage fierce and fell ; He will not give one inch of way For all the devils in hell." And then the fearful enemy 65 Was quickly put to flight, Our men persued couragiously, And caught their forces quite ; But at last they gave a shout, Which ecchoed through the sky ; 70 " God, and St. George for England !" The conquerors did cry. VICTORIOUS MEN OF EARTH. 405 This news was brought to England With all the speed might be, And soon our gracious queen was told 75 Of this same victory. " O this is brave Lord Willoughbey, My love that ever won ; Of all the lords of honour, 'Tis he great deeds hath done." 80 To the souldiers that were maimed And wounded in the fray, The queen allowed a pension Of fifteen pence a day ; And from all costs and charges 85 She quit and set them free : And this she did all for the sake Of brave Lord Willoughbey. Then courage, noble Englishmen, And never be dismaid ; 90 If that \ve be but one to ten, We will not be afraid To fight with foraign enemies, And set our nation free : And thus I end the bloody bout 95 Of brave Lord Willoughbey. XXI. Ttctortousf {Hen of lEarti). Tuii little moral sonnet hath such a pointed application to the heroeu of the foregoing and following ballads, that I cannot help placing it here, though the date of its composition is of a much later period. It is extracted from " Oupid and Death, a masque by J. S. [James Shirley], I 'resented Mar. 26, 1653," London, printed 1653, 4to. VICTORIOUS men of earth, no more Proclaim how wide your empires are ; Though you binde in every shore, And your triumphs reach as far As night or day ; S 406 THE WINNING OF CALEB. Yet you proud monarchs must obey, And mingle with forgotten ashes, when Death calls yee to the crowd of common men. Devouring famine, plague, and war, Each able to undo mankind, 10 Death's servile emissaries are ; Nor to these alone confin'd, He hath at will More quaint aud subtle wayes to kill : A smile or kiss, as he will use the art, 15 Shall have the cunning skill to break a heart. XXII. Cfjc Mtnnfng of Caletf. The subject of this ballad is the taking of the city of Cadiz (called bj our sailors corruptly Gales), on June 21, 1596, in a descent made on the coast of Spain, under the command of the Lord Howard, admiral, and the Earl of Essex, general. The valour of Essex was not more distinguished on this occasion than his generosity: the town was carried sword in hand, but be stopped the slaughter as soon as possible, and treated his prisoners with the greatest humanity, and even affability and kindness. The English made a rich plunder in the city, but missed of a much richer, by the resolution which the Duke of Medina, the Spanish admiral, took, of setting fire to the ships, in order to prevent their falling into the hands of the enemy. It was computed, that the loss which the Spaniards sustained from this enterprise, amounted to twenty millions of ducats. See Hume's History. The Earl of Essex knighted on this occasion not fewer than sixty per-sona, which gave rise to the following sarcasm : " A gentleman of Wales, a knight of Gales, And a laird of the North country ; But a yeoman of Kent with his yearly rent Will buy them out all three." The ballad is printed, with some corrections, from the Editor's folic MS., and seems to have been composed by some person who was con- cerned in the expedition. Most of the circumstances related in it will bo found supported by history. THE WINNING OF CALE8. 4:07 Lo.vo the proud Spaniards Lad vaunted to conquer us, Threatning our country with fyer and sword ; Often preparing their navy most sumptuous, With as great plenty as Spain could afford. Dub a dub, dub a dub, thus strike their drums, 5 Tantara, tantara, the Englishman comes. To the seas presentlye went our lord admiral, With knights couragious and captains full good ; The brave Earl of Essex, a prosperous general, With him prepared to pass the salt flood. 10 Dub a dub, &c. At Plymouth speedilye, took they ship valiantlye ; Braver ships never were seen under sayle, With their fair colours spread, and streamers ore their head ; Now, bragging Spaniards, take heed of your tayle, 15 Dub a dub, &c. Unto Gales cunninglye, came we most speedilye Where the kinges navy securelye did ryde ; Being upon their backs, piercing their butts of sacks, Ere any Spaniards our coming descryde. 2C Dub a dub, &c. Great was the crying, the running and ryding, Which at that season was made in that place ; The beacons were fyred, as need then required : To hyde their great treasure they had little space. 25 Dub a dub, &c. There you might see their ships, how they were fyred fast, And how their men drowned themselves in the sen ; There might you hear them cry, wayle and weep piteously, When they saw no shift to scape thence away, 30 Dub a dub, &c. The great St. Phillip, the pryde of the Spaniards, Was burnt to the bottom, and sunk in the sea ; But the St. Andrew, and eke the St. Matthew, Wee took in tight manfullye and brought away. 35 Dub a dub, &c. 408 THK WINNING OF TALES. The Earl of Essex, most valiant and hardye, With horsemen and footmen marched up to the town ; The Spanyards which saw them, were greatly alarmed, Did fly for their savegard, and durst not come down. 40 Dub a dub, &c. " Now," quoth the noble Earl, " courage, iny soldiers all, Fight, and be valiant, the spoil you shall have ; And be well rewarded all from the great to the small ; But looke that the women and children you save." 45 Dub a dub, &c. The Spaniards at that sight, thinking it vain to fight, Hung upp flags of truce and yielded the towne ; Wee marched in presentlye, decking the walls on hye, With English colours which purchased renowne. 50 Dub a dub, &c. Entering the houses then, of the most richest men, For gold and treasure we searched eche day ; In some places we did find pyes baking left behind, Meate at fire resting, and folkes run away. 55 Dub a dub, &c. Full of rich merchandize, every shop catched our eyes, Damasks and sattens and velvets full fayre ; Which soldiers measur'd out by the length of their swords ; Of all commodities eche had a share. 60 Dub a dub, &c. Thus Gales was taken, and our brave general March'd to the market-place, where he did stand ; There many prisoners fell to our several shares ; Many crav'd mercye, and mercye they fannd. 65 Dub a dub, &c. When our brave General saw they delayed all, And wold not ransome their towne as they said, With their fair wanscots, their presses and bedsteds. Their joint-stools and tables, a fire we made ; 70 And when the town burned all in flame, With tara, tantara, away wee all came. IHE SPANISH LADY'S LOV. 409 XXIII. ILatru's This beautiful old ballad most probably took its rise from one of these descents made on the Spanish coasts in the time of Queen Elizabeth ; and in all likelihood from that which is celebrated in the foregoing ballad. It was a tradition in the West of England, that the person admired by the Spanish lady was a gentleman of the Popham family, and that her picture, with the pearl necklace mentioned in the ballad, was not many years ago preserved at Littlecot, near Hungerford, Wilts, the seat of that respectable family. Another tradition hath pointed out Sir Richard Levison, of Trentham, in Staffordshire, as the subject of this ballad ; who married Margaret, daughterof ChHrles,Earl of Nottingham, imd was eminently distinguished as a naval officer and commander in all the expeditions against the Spaniards in the latter end of Queen Elizabeth's reign, particularly in that to Cadiz in 1596, when he was aged 27. He died in 16D5, and has a monument, with his effigy in brass, in Wolverhampton church. It is printed from an ancient black-letter copy, corrected in part by the Editor's folio MS. WILL you hear a Spanish lady, How shee wooed an English man ? s Garments gay as rich as may be, Decked with jewels she had on ; Of a comely countenance and grace was she, 5 And by birth and parentage of high degree. As his prisoner there he kept her, In his hands her life did lye ; Cupid's bauds did tye them faster, By the liking of an eye ; 10 In his courteous compauy was all her joy, To favour him in any thing she was not coy. 1 Both Shenstone and Wordsworth have employed this graceful romanc* as a model ; the former, in his Moral Tale of Love and Honour ; the lattei in his Armenian Lady's Love. Editor. 5 Recent evidence, with good reason, maintains that Sir John Bolle, of Thorpe Hall, Lincolnfc lire, was the gallant hero of the romance. Editor. 410 THE SPANISH LADY'S LOVE. But at last there came commandment For to set the ladies free, With tlieir jewels still adorned, 15 None to do them injury : Then said this lady mild, " Full woe is me ; let me still sustain this kind captivity ! * Gallant Captain, shew some pity To a ladye in distresse ; 20 Leave me not within this city, For to dye in heavinesse ; Thou hast set this present day my body free, But my heart in prison still remains with thee." " How should'st thou, fair lady, love me, 25 Whom thou knowst thy country's foe ? Thy faire wordes make me suspect thee ; Serpents lie where flowers grow." " All the harm I wishe to thee, most courteous knight, God grant the same upon my head may fully light ! 30 " Blessed be the time and season, That you came on Spanish ground ; If our foes you may be termed, Gentle foes we have you found. With our city, you have won our hearts eche one ; 35 Then to your country bear away that is your owne." " Eest you still, most gallant lady ; Kest you still, and weep no more ; Of fair lovers there is plenty ; Spain doth yield a \vonderous store." 40 "Spaniards fraught with jealousy we often find; But Englishmen through all the world are counted kind. " Leave me not unto a Spaniard ; You alone enjoy my heart ; 1 am lovely, young, and tender, 45 Love is likewise my desert. Still to serve thee day and night my mind is prest ; The wife of every Englishman is counted kt. :> THE SPANISH LADY 8 LOVZ. 411 " It wold be a shame, fair lady, For to bear a woman hence ; 50 English soldiers never carry Any such without offence." '' I'll quickly change myself, if it be so, And like a page lie follow thee, where'er thou go." "I have neither gold nor silver 55 To maintain thee in this case, And to travel is great charges, As yon know, in every place." " My chains and jewels every one shal be thy own, And eke five hundred pounds 3 in gold that lies unknown."60 '' On the seas are many dangers ; Many storms do there arise, Which wil be to ladies dreadful, And force tears from watery eyes." " Well in troth I shall endure extremity, 65 For I could find in heart to lose my life for thee." " Courteous ladye, leave this fancy ; Here comes all that breeds the strife ; I in England have already A sweet woman to my wife : 70 I will not falsify my vow for gold nor gain, Nor yet for all the fairest dames that live in Spain." " how happy is that woman That enjoys so true a friend ! Many happy days God send her I 75 Of my suit I make an end : On my knees I pardon crave for my offence, Which did from love and true affection first commence. " Commend me to thy lovely lady ; Bear to her this chain of gold, 8Q And these bracelets for a token ; Grieving that I was so bold. All my jewels in like sort take thou with thee, For they are fitting for thy wife, but not for me. Ver. 65, Well in worth. MS. So the MS. 10,000/. t i 412 ARGBNTILE AND CUBAN " I will spend my days in prayer, 85 Love and all her laws defye ; In a nunnery will I shroud mee, Far from any companye ; But ere my prayers have an end, be sure of this, To pray for thee and for thy love I will not miss. 90 " Thus farewell, most gallant captain ! Farewell too my heart's content ! Count not Spanish ladies wanton, Though to thee my love was bent : Joy and true prosperity goe still with thee !" 95 " The like fall ever to thy share, most fair ladie." V. 86, So the folio MS. Other editions read his laics. XXIV. antt Curan Is extracted from an ancient historical poem in thirteen books, entitled Albion's England by William Warner : " An author (says a former editor) only unhappy in the choice of his subject, and measure of his verse. His poem is an epitome of the British history, and written with great learning, sense, and spirit ; in some places fine to an extra- ordinary degree, as I think will eminently appear in the ensuing episode [of Argentile and Curan] a tale full of beautiful incMents in the romantic taste, extremely affecting, rich in ornament, wonderfully various in style ; and in short, one of the most beautiful pastorals I ever met with." [Muses' Library, 1738, 8vo.] To his merit nothing can be objected, unless perhaps an affected quaintnesa in some of his expres- sions, and an indelicacy in some of his pastoral images. Warner is said, by A. Wood, l to have been a Warwickshire man and to have been educated in Oxford, at MagJalene-hall : as also in the latter part of his lite to have been retained in the service of Henry Gary, Lord Hunsdon, to whom ho dedicates his poem. However that may have been, new light is thrown upon his history, and the time and manner of his death are now ascertained by the following extract from the parish register-book of Amwell, in Hertfordshire, which was obligingly communicated to the editor by Mr. Hoole, the very ingenious translator of Tasso, &c. [1608-1(509.] " Master William Warner, a man of good yeares anu 1 At uen. Oxon. ABGENTILE AND CUKAN. 413 of honest reputation : by his profess'on an Atturftye of tlie Common Picas ; author of Albions England, diynge suddenly in the night in iiis bedde, without any former complaynt or sicknesse, on thursday night beeinge the 9th daye of March, was buried the satturday following, and lyeth in the church at the corner under the stone of Walter Ffader." " Signed Tho. Hassall, Vicarius." Though now Warner is so seldom mentioned, his contemporaries ranked him on a level with Spenser, and called them the Homer and Virgil of their age. 2 But Warner rather resembled Ovid, whose Metamorphoses he seems to have taken for his modt-1, having deduced a perpetual poem from the Deluge down to the era of Elizabeth, full of lively digressions and entertaining episodes. And though he is some- times harsh, affected, and obscure, he often displays a most charming and pathetic simplicity : as where he describes Eleanor's harsh treat- ment ot Rosamond : " With that, she dasht her on the lippes So dyed double red : Hard was the heart that gave the blow, Soft were those lippes that bled.'' The edition of Albion's England here followed, was printed in 4to, 1602 ; said in the title-page to have been " first penned and published by William Warner, and now revised and newly enlarged by the same author." The story of Argentile and Curan is, I believe, the poet's own invention : it is not mentioned in any of our chronicles. It was, however, so much admired, that not many years after he published it, came out a larger poem on the same subject in stanzas of six lines, entitled " The most pleasant and delightful historie of Curan a prince of I >anske, and the fayre princesse Argentile. daughter and heyre to Adelbright, some- time king of Northumberland, &c., by William Webster, London, 1617," in 8 sheets, 4to. An indifferent paraphrase of the following poem. This episode of Warner's has also bi/en altered into tlie common ballad of " the two young Princes on Salisbury Plain," which is chiefly composed of Warner's lines, with a few contractions and interpolations, but all greatly for the worse. See the collection of Historical Bullads, 1727, 3 vols. 12mo. Though here subdivided into stanzas, Warner's metre is the old- fashioned Alexandrine of fourteen syllables. The reader therefore must not expect to find the close of the stanzas consulted in the pauses, THE Bruton's 'being' departed hence Seaven kingdoms here begonne, Where diversly in divers broyles The Saxons lost and wonne. * Athen. Oxon. 414 ARGENTILE AND CUBAN. King Edel and King Adelbright 5 In Diria jointly raigne ; In loyal Concorde during life These kingly friends remaine. When Adelbright should leave hie life, To Edel thus he sayes : 10 " By those same bondes of happie love, That held us friends alwaies ; " By our by-parted crowne, of which The moyetie is mine ; By God, to whom my soule must passe, 15 And so in time may thine, " I pray thee, nay I conjure thee, To nourish as thine owne, Thy neece, my daughter Argentile, Till she to age be growne ; 20 And then, as thou receivest it, Resigne to her my throne." A promise had for his bequest, The testator he dies : But all that Edel undertooke, 25 He afterwards denies. Yet well he ' fosters for ' a time The damsell that was growne The fairest lady under heaven ; Whose beautie being knowne, 30 A many princes seeke her love ; But none might her obtaine, For grippell Edel to himselfe Her kingdome sought to gaine ; And for that cause from sight of such 35 He did his ward restraine. By chance one Curan, sonne unto A prince in Danske, did see The maid, with whom he fell in love ; As much as man might bee. 40 ARGENTILE AND CURAX. 415 Unhappie youth, what should he doe ? His saint was kept in mewe ; Nor he, nor any noble-man Admitted to her vewe. One while in melancholy fits 45 He pines hiiuiselfe awaye ; Anon he thought by force of arms To win her if he maye ; And still against the kings restraint Did secretly invay. 50 At length the high controller Love, Whom none may disobay, Imbased him from lordlines Into a kitchen drudge, That so at least of life or death 55 She might become his judge. Accesse so had to see and speake, He did his love bewray, And tells his birth : her answer was, She husbandles would stay. 60 Meane while the king did beate his braines, His booty to atcheive, Nor caring what became of her, So he by her might thrive. At last his resolution was 65 Some pessant should her wive. And (which was working to his wish) He did observe with joye How Curan, whom he thought a drudge, Scapt many an amorous toye. 3 70 The king, perceiving such his veine, Promotes his vassal still, Lest that the basenesse of the man Should lett, perhaps, his will. * The construction is, " How that many an amorous toy, or foolei r of lovt, 'scaped Curan ;" i. e. escaped from him, being off his guard. 41 G ARGENTINE AND CURAN. Assured therefore of his love, 75 But not suspecting who The lover was, the king himself In his behalf did woe. The lady resolute from love, Unkindly takes that he 80 Should barre the noble, and unto So base a match agree ; And therefore shifting out of doores, Departed thence by stealth, Preferring povertie before 85 A dangerous life in wealth. When Curan heard of her escape, The anguish in his hart Was more than much, and after her From court he did depart; 90 Forgetfull of himselfe, his birth, His country, friends, and all, And only minding (whom he mist) The fondresse of his thrall. Nor meanes he after to frequent 95 Or court, or stately townes, But solitarily to live Amongst the country grownes. A brace of years he lived thus, Well pleased so to live ; 1 00 And shepherd-like to feed a flocke Himselfe did wholly give. So wasting, Love, by worke and want, Grew almost to the waine ; But then began a second love, ] ( 5 The worser of the twaine. A country wench, a neatherds maid, Where Curan kept his sheepe, Did feed her drove : and now on her Was all the shepherds keepe. 110 Ver. 110, keepe, f. e. heed. ARGKNTILE AND CURAH. 417 He torrowed on the working dales His holy russets oft, Ami of the bacon's fat. to make His startups blacke and soft. And least his tarbox should offend, 115 He left it at the folde ; Sweete growte or whig his bottle had. As much as it might holde. A sheeve of bread as browne as nut, And cheese as white as snow, 120 And wildings, or the seasons fruit He did in scrip bestow. And whilst his py-bald curre did sleepo, And sheep-hooke lay him by, On hollow quilles of oten straw 125 He piped melody. But when he spyed her, his saint, He wip'd his greasie shooes, And clear'd the drivell from his beard, And thus the shepheard wooes. 1 30 " I have, sweet wench, a peece of cheese, As good as tooth may chawe, And bread and wildings souling well. (And therewithail did drawe " His lardrie) and in ' yeaning ' see Ib5 You crumpling ewe," quoth he, " Did twinne this fall : and twin shouldst thoU; If I might tup with thee. "Thou art too elvish, faith thou art, To elvish and too coy ; 140 Am I, I pray thee, beggarly, That suche a flocke enjoy ? " I wis I am not : yet that thou Doest hold m in disdaine Is brimme abroad and made a gybe 145 To all tnat keepe this plaine. Ver. 112, i. e. holy-day russets. V. 135, eating. PjCc VOL. I. 2 K 4.18 AEGENTILE AND CURAN. *' There be as quaint (at least that thinke Themselves as quaint) that crave The match, that thou, I wot not why, Maist but mislik'st to have. 150 " How wouldst thou match ? (for well I wot Thou art a female) I Her know not here that willingly With maiden-head would die. " The plowmans labour hath no end, 155 And he a churle will prove ; The craftsman hath more worke in hand Then fitteth unto love ; " The merchant, traffiquing abroad, Suspects his wife at home : 160 A youth will play the wanton ; and An old man prove a mome. " Then chuse a shepheard ; with the sun He doth his flocke unfold, And all the day on hill or plaine, 165 He merrie chat can hold ; " And with the sun doth folde againe : Then jogging home betime, He turnes a crab, or turnes a round, Or sings some merry ryme. 170 " Nor lacks he gleefull tales, whilst round The nut-brown bowl doth trot ; And sitteth singing care away, Till he to bed be got. " Theare sleepes he soundly all the night. 175 Forgetting morrow-cares ; Nor feares he blasting of his come, Nor uttering of his wares ; " Or stormes by seas, or stirres on land, Or cracke of credit lost ; 1 80 Not spending franklier than his flocke Shall still defray the cost. V. 153, Her know I not ner that. ed. 1602. V. 169, t. e. roasts a crab, *r apple. V. 171, to tell, whilst round the bole doth trot. ed. 1597. AEQENTILK AND CDBAH. 419 " Well wot I, sooth they say, that say More quiet nights and daies The shepheard sleeps and wakes, than ho 185 Whose cattel he doth graize. " Beleeve me, lasse, a king is but A man, and so am I ; Content is worth a monarchic, And mischiefs hit the hie. 190 " As late it did a king and his Not dwelling far from hence, Who left a daughter, save thyselfe, For fair a matchless wench." Here did he pause, as if his tongue 195 Had done his heart offence. The neatresse, longing for the rest, Did egge him on to tell How faire she was, and who she was, " She bore," quoth he, " the bell 200 " For beautie : though I clownish am, I know what beautie is ; Or did I not, at seeing thee, I senceles were to mis. " Her stature comely, tall ; her gate 205 Well graced ; and her wit To marvell at, not meddle with. As matchless I omit. " A globe-like head, a gold-like haire, A forehead smooth and hie ; 210 An even nose, on either side Did shine a grayish eie ; '* Two rosie cheeks, round ruddy lips, White just-set teeth within ; A mouth in meane, and uuderneathe A round and dimpled chin. 2 B 2 420 ABGENTILK AND CUBAN. " Her snowie necke with blewish veines Stood bolt upright upon Her portly shoulders : beating balles Her veined breasts, anon 220 " Adde more to beautie. Wand-like was Her middle falling still, And rising whereas women rise : * * * Imagine nothing ill. " And more, her long and limber arines 225 Had white and azure wrists ; And slender fingers aunswere to Her smooth and lillie fists. " A legge in print, a pretie foot : Conjecture of the rest, 230 For amorous eies, observing forme, Think parts obscured best. " With these, O raretie ! with these Her tong of speech was spare ; But speaking, Venus seem'd to speake, 235 The balle from Ide to bear. " With Phoebe, Juno, and with both Herselfe contends in face ; Wheare equall mixture did not want Of milde and stately grace. 240 " Her smiles were sober, and her lookes Were chearefull unto all : Even such as neither wantcn seeme. Nor waiward ; mell nor /jail. " A quiet minde, a patient moode, 245 And not disdaining any ; Not gybing, gadding, gaw dy : and Sweete faculties had miny. c A nimph, no tong, no heart, no eie Might praise, might wish, might nee ; 250 For life, for love, for forme more good. More worth, more faire than shoe. ABGENTILE AND CUBAN. 421 " Yea such an one, as such was none, Save only she was such : Of Argentile to say the most, 255 Were to be silent much." " I knew the lady very well, But worthies of such praise," The neatresse said ; " and muse I do, A shepheard thus should blaze 260 The 'coate' of beauti. 1 Credit me, Thy latter speech bewraies " Thy clownish shape a coined shew. But wherefore dost thou weepe ?" The shepheard wept, and she was woe, 265 And both doe silence keepe. " In troth," quoth he, "I am not such As seeming I professe : But then for her, and now for thee, I from myselfe digresse. 270 " Her loved I (wretch that I am A recreant to be) I loved her that hated love, But now I die for thee. " At Kirkland is my fathers court, 275 And Curan is my name, In Edels court sometimes in pompe, Till love countrould the same, " But now what now ? deare heart, how now ? What ailest thou to weepe ?" 280 The damsell wept, and he was woe, And both did silence keepe. " I graunt," quoth she, " it was too much That you did love so much ; But whom your former could not move, 285 Your second love doth touch. 1 i. e. emblazon beauij . voaL Ed. 1597, 1602, 1612, read oooU. 122 COIUN'S FATE. " Thy twice-beloved Argentile Submitteth her to thee, And for thy double love presents Herself a single fee, 290 In passion, not in person, chang'd : And I, my lord, am she." They sweetly surfeiting in joy, And silent for a space, When as the extasie had end, 295 Did tenderly imbrace ; And for their wedding and their wish Got fitting time and place. Not England (for of Hengist then Was named so this land) 300 Then Curan had an hardier knight ; His force could none withstand ; Whose sheep-hooke laid apart, he then Had higher things in hand. First, making knowne his lawfull claime In Argentile her right, 305 He warr'd in Diria. 2 and he wonne Bernicia 2 too in fight ; And so from trecherous Edel tooke At once his life and crowne, 310 And of Northumberland was Mng, Long raigning in renowne. 2 During the Saxon heptarchy, the kingdom of Northumberland (con- sisting of six northern counties, besides part of Scotland) was for a long time divided into two lesser sovereignties, viz. Deira (called here Diria) which contained the southern parts, and Bernicia, comprehending those \rhi:h lay north. XXV. Conn's Jfate. Only the three first stanzas of this song are ancient : these are extracted from a small quarto MS. in the Editor's possession, written in the time of Queen Elizabeth. As they seemed to want application, this has beer attempted by a modern band. SHOUK. 423 COKIN, most unhappie swaiuu, Whither wilt thou drive thy llocke ? Little foode is on the plaine ; Full of danger is the rocke. Wolfes and beares doe kepe the woodes ; 5 Forests tangled are with brakes : Meadowes subject are to floodes ; Moores are full of miry hikes. Tet to shun all plaiue and hill, Forest, moore, and meadow-ground, 10 Hunger will as surely kill : How may then reliefe be found ? Such is hapless Corins fate : Since my waywarde love begunne, Equall doubts begett debate 15 What to seeke and what to shunne. Spare to spoke, and spare to speed ; Yet to speke will move disdaine : If I see her not I bleed, Yet her sight augments my paine. 20 What may then poor Corin doe ? Tell me, shepherdes, quicklye tell ; For to linger thus in woe Is the lover's sharpest hell. XXVL Thouirh so many vuV^ar errors have prevailed concerning this cele- brated courtesan, no character in history has been more j>erfectlv handed down to us. We have I.er portrait drawn by two masterly pens ; the one lias delineated the feature a of I er perton, tlie other those of her character and story. Sir Thomas More drew from the life. and Drayton has copied an original pict'iie of her. The reader will jArion thi- length of the quotations, as they serve to correct ir.any 424 JANE SHORE. popular mistakes relating to lier catastrophe. The first is from Sii Thomas More's history of Richard III , written in 1513. about thirty years after the death of Edward IV. " Now then by and by, as it wer for anger, not for covetise, the protector sent into the house of Shore's wife (for her husband dwelled not with her) and spoiled her of al that ever she had, (above the vnlue of two or three thousand marks,) and sent her body to prison. And when he had a while laide unto her, for the manner sake, that she went about to bewitch him, and that she was of counsel with the lord chamberlein to destroy him : in conclusion, when that no colour coul j fasten upon these matters, then he layd heinously to her charge the thing that herselfe could not deny, that al the world wist was tme, and that natheles every man laughed at to here it then so sodainly so highly taken, that sl.e was naught of her body. And for thys cause, (as a goodly continent prince, clene and faultless of bimsolf, sent oute of heaven into this vicious world for the amendment of mens maners,) he caused the bishop of London to put her to open pennance, going before the crosse in procession upon a sonday with a taper in her hand. In which she went in countenance and pace demure so womanly ; and albeit she was out of al array save her kyrtle only, yet went she so fair and lovely, namelye, while the wondering of the people caste a comly rud in her chekes, (of which she before had most misse,) that her great shame wan her much praise among those that were more timorous of her body, then curious of her soule. And many good folke also, that hated her living, and glad wer to ge sin corrected, yet pittied thei more her penance then rejoiced therin, when thei considred that the protector procured it more of a corrupt intent, then any virtuous affection. "This woman was born in London, worshipfully frended, honestly brought up, and very wel maryed, saving somewhat to sooue ; ht r husbande an honest citizen, yonge, and goodly, and of good substance. But forasmuche as they were coupled ere the wer wel ripe, she not very fervently loved, for whom she never longed. Which was happely the thinge. that the more easily made her encline unto the king's appetite, when he required her. Howbeit the respect of his royaltie, the hope of gay apparel, ease, plesure, and other wanton welth, was able soone to pers3 a soft tender hearte. But when the king had abused her, anon her husband (as he was an honest man, and one that could his good, not presuming to touch a kinges concubine) left her up to him al together. When the king died, the lord chamberlen [Hastings] toke her : l which in the kinges daies, albeit he was sore 1 After the death of Hastings she was kept by the Marquis of Dorset, son to Edward IV.'s queen. In Rymer's Foedera is a proclamation of Richard's dated at Leicester, October 23, 1483, wherein a reward of 1000 marks in money, or 100 a-year in land, is offered for taking "Thomas late marquis of Dorset," who, " not having the fear of God, nor the salvation of his own soul, before his eyes, has damnably debauched and defiled many maids, widows, and wives, and lived in actual adultery with the wife oj Shore." Buckingham was * wiat time in rebellion, but as Dorset w?.s crt JANE SHOBE. 425 enamoured upon her, yet he forbare her, either for reverence, cr for a certain frendly faithfulness. " Proper she was, and faire : nothing in her body that you wold have changed, but if you would have wished her somewhat higher. Thus say thei that knew her in her youthe. Albeit some that now see her, (for yet she liveth,) deme her never to have been wel visaged. Whose jugement seemeth me somewhat like as though men should gesse the bewty of one longe before departed, by her scalpe taken out of the charnel-house ; for now is she old, lene, withered, and dried up, nothing left but ryvilde skin, and hard bone. And yet being even such, whoso wel advise her visage, might gesse and devise which partes how filled, wold make it a fair face. '' Yet delited not men so much in her bewty, as in her pleasant behaviour. For a proper wit had she, and could both rede wel and write ; mery in company, redy and quick of aunswer, neither mute nor ful of bable ; sometime taunting without displeasure, and not without disport. The king would say, That he had three concubines, which in three divers properties diversly excelled. One the meriest, another the wiliest, the third the holiest harlot in his realme, as one whom no man could get out of the church lightly to any place, but it \ver to his bed. The other two wer somewhat greater personages, and natheles of their humilite content to be nameles, and to forbere the praise of those properties; but the meriest was the Shoris wife, in whom the king therfore toke tpecial pleasure. For many he had, but her he loved, whose favour, to sai the trouth (for sinne it wer to belie the devil) she never abused to any mans hurt, but to many a tunns comfort and relief. Where the king toke displeasure, she would mitigate and appease his mind : where men were out of favour, she wold bring them in his grace : for many, that had highly offended, shee obtained pardon : of great forfeitures she gate men remission : and finally in many weighty sutes she stode many men in gret btede, either for none or very smal rewardes, and those rather gay than rich : either for that she was content with the dede selfe well done, or for that she delited to bo sued unto, and to show what she was able to do wyth the king, or for that wanton women and welthy be not alway covetous. " I doubt not some shal think this woman too sleight a thing to bo written of, and set amonge the remembraunces of great matters : which thei shal specially think, that happely shal esteme her only by that thei now see her. But me semeth the chaunce so much the more worthy to be remembred, in how much she is now in the more beggarly condicion, unfrended and worne out of acquaintance, after good sub- stance, after as grete favour with the prince, after as grete sute and seeking to with al those, that in those days had busynes to spede, as many other men were of their times, which be now famouse only by the infamy in their il dedes. Her doinges were not much lesse, albeit with him, Richard could not accuse him of treason, and therefore made a handle of these pretended debaucheries to get him apprehended. VjJ- Kym. Feed. torn. xij. p. 204 426 JANE SHOEE. thei be muche less remembred because thei were not so evil. For men use, if they have an evil turne, to write it in marble: and whoso doth us a good tourne, we write it in duste. 2 Which is not worst proved by her ; for at this dnye shee beggeth of many at this daye living, that at this day had begged, if shee had not bene." See More's Works, folio, black letter, ] 557, pp. 56, 57. Draytou has written a poetical epistle from this lady to her royal lover, and in his notes thereto he thus draws her portrait : " Her stature was meane, her haire of a dark yellow, her face round and full, her eye gray, delicate harmony being betwixt each part's proportion, and each proportion's colour, her body fat, white, and smooth, her countenance cheerfull and like to her condition. The picture which I have seen of hers was such as she rose out of her bed in the morning, having nothing on but a rich mantle cast under one arme over her shoulder, and sitting on a chaire, on which her naked arm did lie. What her father's name was, or where she was borne, is not certainly knowne: but Shore, a young man of right goodly person, wealth, and behaviour, abandoned her bed after the king bad made her his concu- bine. Richard III. causing her to do open penance in Paul's church- yard, commanded that no man should relieve her, which the tyrant did, not so much for his hatred to sinne, but that by making his brother's life odious, he might cover his horrible treasons the more cunningly." See England's Heroical Epistles, by Michael Drayton, Esq., London, 1637, 12mo. The history of Jane Shore receives new illustration from the following letter of King Kichard III., which is preserved in the Harl. MSS. number 433, article 2378, but of which the copy transmitted to the Editor has been reduced to modern orthography, &c. It is said to have been addressed to Eussel, bishop of Lincoln, lord chancellor, anno 1484. By the KING. " Right Reverend Father in God, &c., signifying unto you, that it is shewed unto us, that our Servant and Solicitor Thomas Lynom, marvellously blinded and abused with the late Wife of William iShore, now living in Ludgate by our commandment, hath made Contract of Matrimony with her, as it is said, and intendeth to our full great marvel, to effect the same. WE, for many causes, would be sorry that he should be so disposed ; pray you therefore to send for him, and in that ye goodly may, exhort, and stir him to the contrary : And if ye find him utterly set for to marry her, and none otherwise would be advertised, then, if it may stand with the laws of the church, we bo 2 The words of Sir Thomas More probably suggested to Shakspeare that proverbial reflection in Henry VIII. act iv. sc. 2. " Men's evil manners live in brass : their virtues We write in water." Shaktj leare, in his play of Richard III., follows More's history of that reign, ind therefore could not but see this passage. JANE SHOUB. 427 content the time of marriage be deferred to our coming next to London ; that upon sufficient Surety found of her good abearing, ye do so send for her Keeper, and discharge him of our said commandment, by Warrant of these, committing her to the rule, and guiding of her Father, or any other, by your direction, in the mean season. Given, &c. "BIG. Rex." It appears from two articles in the same MS. that King Richard had granted to the said Thomas Liuom the office of King's Solicitor, ( Article 134, i and also the manor of Colmeworth, com. Bedf. to him, his heirs male. (Article 596.) An original picture of Jane Shore, almost naked, is preserved in the Provost's lodgings at Eton ; and another picture of her is in the Provost's Lodge at King's College, Cambridge, to both which founda- tions she is supposed to have done friendly offices with Edward IV. A small 4to mezzotinto print was taken from the former of these by J. Fabcr. The following ballad is printed (with some corrections) from an old black-letter copy in the Pepys collection. Its full title is, " The woefull lameutation of Jane Shore, a goldsmith's wife in London, sometime king Edward IV. his concubine. To the tune of ' Live with me,' &c. To every stanza is annexed tlie following burthen : " Then maids and wives in time amend, For love and beauty will have end." IF Rosamonde, that was so faire. Had cause her sorrowes to declare, Then let Jane Shore with sorrowe sing, That was beloved of a kiiig. In maiden yeares my beautye bright 5 Was loved dear of lord and knight ; But yet the love that they requir'd, It was not as my friends desir'd. My parents they, for thirst of gaine. A husband for me did obtaine ; 10 And I, their pleasure to fulfille, Was forc'd to wedd against my wille. To Matthew Shore I was a wife, Till lust brought ruine to my life ; Aud then my life I lewdly e spent, 15 Which makes my soul for to lament. JANK SHORE. In Lombard-street I once did dwelle, As London yet can witness welle ; Where many gallants did beholde My beautye in a shop of golde. 20 I spred my plumes, as wantons doe, Some sweet and secret friende to wooe, Because chast love I did not finde Agreeing to my wanton minde. At last my name in court did ring 25 Into the eares of Englandes king, Who came and lik'd, and love requir'd, But I made coye what he desir'd. Yet Mistress Blague, a neighbour neare, Whose friendship I esteemed deare, 30 Did saye," It was a gallant thing To be beloved of a king." By her persuasions I was led, For to defile my marriage-bed. And wronge my wedded husband Shore, 35 Whom I had married yeares before. In heart and mind I did rejoycc, That I had made so sweet a choice ; And therefore did my state resigne, To be King Edward's concubine. 40 From city then to court I went, To reape the pleasures of content ; There had the joyes that love could bring, And knew the secrets of a king. When I was thus advanc'd on highe, 45 Commanding Edward with mine eye, For Mrs. Blague I in short space Obtainde a livinge from his Grace. Vr 31 w * . w. JAXK SHORE. 429 No friende I had, but in short time I made unto promotion climbe ; 50 But yet for all this costlye pride, My husbande could not mee abide. His bed, though wronged by a king, Hi s heart with deadlye griefe did sting ; From England then he goes away 55 To end his life beyond the sea. He could not live to see his name Impaired by my wanton shame ; Although a prince of peerlesse might Did reape the pleasure of his right. 60 Long time I lived in the courte, With lords and ladies of great sorte ; And when I smil'd, all men were glad, But when I frown'd, my prince grewe sad. But yet a gentle minde I bore 65 To helpless people, that were poore ; I still redrest the orphans crye, And sav'd their lives condemnd to dye. I still had ruth on widowes tears, I succour'd babes of tender yeaxes ; 70 And never look'd for other gaine But love and thankes, for all my paine. At last my royall king did dye, And then my dayes of woe grew nighe ; When crook-back Richard got the crowue, 75 King Edwards friends were soon put dowue. I then was punish t for my sin, That I so long had lived in ; Yea, every one that was his friend This tyrant brought to shameful end. 80 Then for my lewd and wanton life, That made a strumpet of a wife, I penance did in Lombard-street, la ahamefull manner in a sheet : 130 JANE SIIOBJC. Where many thousands did me viewe, 85 Who late in court my credit knewe ; Which made the teares run down my face, To think upon my foul disgrace. Not thus content, they took from mee My goodes, my livings, and my fee, 90 And charg'd that none should me relieve. Nor any succour to me give. Then unto Mrs. Blague I went, To whom my jewels I had sent, In hope thereby e to ease my want, 95 When riches fail'd, and love grew scant. But she denyed to me the same, When in my need for them I came ; To recompense my former love, Out of her doores shee did me shove. 100 So love did vanish with my state. Which now my soul repents too late ; Therefore example take by mee, For friendship parts in povertie. But yet one friend among the rest, 105 Whom I before had seen distrest, And sav'd his life, condemn' d to die, Did give me food to succour me : For which, by lawe, it was decreed That he was hanged for that deed ; 110 His death did grieve me so much more, Than had I dyed myself therefore. Then those to whom I had done good Durst not afford mee any food ; Whereby I begged all the day, 115 And still in streets by night I lay. My gowns beset with pearl and gold, Were turn'd to simple garments old ; My chains and gems and golden rings, To filthy rags and loathsome things. 120 JANE SHOBE. 40 1 Thus was I scorn'd of maid and wife, For leading such a wicked life ; Both sucking babes and children small, Did make their pastime at my fall. I could not get one bit of bread, 125 Whereby my hunger might be fed : Nor drink, but such as channels yield, Or stinking ditches in the field. Thus, weary of my life, at lengthe I yielded up my vital strength 130 Within a ditch of loathsome scent, Where carrion dogs did much frequent : The which now since my dying daye, Is Shoreditch call'd, as writers saye ; 3 Which is a witness of my sinne, 135 For being concubine to a king. You wanton wives, that fall to lust, Be you assur'd that God is just ; Whoredome shall not escape his hand, Nor pride unpunish'd in this land. 140 If God to me such shame did bring, That yielded only to a king, How shall they scape that daily run To practise sin with every one ? You husbands, match not but for love, 145 Lest some disliking after prove ; Women, be warn'd when you are wives, What plagues are due to sinful lives : Then, maids and wives, in time amend, For love and beauty will have end. ' But it had this name long before; being so called from its being * xincraon Sewer (vulgarly Shore) or drain. See Stow. 132 CORYDON'R DOLEFUL KNELL. XXVII. Corutton's Solrful Bncll. Phis little simple elegy is given, with some corrections, from two copies one of which is in The golden Garland of Princely Delight*. The burthen of the song, DING DONG, &c., is at present appropriated to burlesque subjects, and therefore may excite only ludicrous ideas in a modern reader ; but in the time of our poet, it usually acc'>mpanii d the most solemn and mournful strains. Of this kind is that fine aerial dirge in Shakspeare's Tempest : " Full fadom five thy father lies, Of his bones are corrall made ; Those are pearles that were his eyes ; Nothing of him, that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange : Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell, Harke now I hear them, Ding dong bell." " Burthen, Ding dong." I make no doubt but the poet intended to conclude the above air in a manner the most solemn, and expressive of melancholy. MY Phillida, adieu love ! For evermore farevvel ! Ay me ! I've lost my true love, And thus I ring her knell, Ding dong. ding dong, ding dong, 5 My Phillida is dead ! I'll stick a branch of willow At my fair Phillis' head. For my fair Phillida Our bridal bed was made ; 10 But 'stead of silkes so gay, She in her shroud is laid. Ding, &c. Her corpse shall be attended By maides in fair array, Till thn obsequies are ended, 15 And she is wrapt in clay. Ding, &c. COBTDON'S DOLEFUL KNELL. 433 Her herse it shall be carried By youths that do excell ; And when that she is buried, I thus will ring her knell. 20 Ding, &c. A garland shall be framed By art and natures skill, Of sundry -colour 'd flowers, In token of good-will. 1 Ding, &c. And sundry-colour'd ribbands 25 On it I will bestow ; But chiefly black and yellowe a With her to grave shall go. Ding, &c. I'll decke her tomb with flowers, The rarest ever seen, 3C And with my tears, as showers, I'll keepe them fresh and green. Ding, &c. Instead of fairest colours, Set forth with curious art, 3 Her image shall be painted 35 On my distressed heart. Ding, &c. And thereon shall be graven, Her epitaph so faire, " Here lies the loveliest maiden. That e'er gave shepheard care." 40 Ding, &c. 1 It is a custom in many parts of England, to carry a flc wery garland before the corpse of a woman who dies unmarried. * See above, preface to no. xi. book v. p. 371. * This alludes to the painted effigies of alabaster, anciently erected upoi tombs and monuments. VOL. L 2 F 434 COKYDON'S DOLEFUL KNELL. In sable will I mourne ; Blacke shall be all my weede : Ay me ! I am forlorne Now Phillida is dead ! Diiig dong, ding dong, ding dong, 45 My Phillida is dead ! I'll stick a branch of willow At my fair Phillis' head. KND OF THK FIBST VOLUME. LONDON: FEINTED BY WU.UAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS. ALPHABETICAL LIST OF MARCH, 1894. ' I may say in regard to all manner of books, Bonn's Publication Series is the usefullest thing I know. 1 THOMAS CARLYLE. ' The respectable and sometimes excellent translations of Bolm's Library have done for literature what railroads have done for internal intercourse.' EMERSON. 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