y" 
 
 fornii
 
 RSITY of CALIPORHBL
 
 OLD BALLADS, 
 
 HISTORICAL AND NARRATIVE, 
 
 WITH SOME OF MODERN DATE. 
 NONE OF WHICH ARE INSERTED IN 
 
 DR. P E R C Y's COLLECTION.

 
 EVANS'S EDITION, 
 
 OLD BALLADS, 
 
 HISTORICAL AND NARRATIVE, 
 
 WITH SOME OF MODERN DATE ; 
 
 Now firft collefted, and reprinted from rare Copies, 
 WITH NOTES. 
 
 VOLUME THE SECOND, 
 
 '// '///> r*ua4< ffauArt&y Sorct; A 
 
 /,//</{// t\', \,t 
 
 Pnnted for T. EVANS, in the Strand. 
 
 M DCC L XXVII'. 
 
 121383 
 
 Rovre
 
 PR 
 
 I 151 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOLUME THE SECOND. 
 
 1 CJ^HE execution of fir Charles Baiudin pag. I. 
 
 2 The cruel murtker of Edward V. and his 
 
 brother 18 
 
 3 The life and death of the duke of Buckingham 22 
 
 4 The life and death of king Richard III. 2J 
 
 5 The union of the red and white rofe 32 
 
 6 The ftory of III May-day 41 
 
 7 A fong of an Englijh knight, that married lady 
 
 Mary, fijier to Henry VIII. 48 
 
 8 The doleful death of queen Jane * 54 
 
 9 4 princely fong of the queens that ivere married 
 
 to Henry Fill. 58 
 
 jo Johnny Armjirong' s laft good night 64 
 
 * I O Sir John Armftrong and fir Michael Muf- 
 
 grave's contefl 70 
 
 11 A lamentable ditty on the death of lord Dudley 
 
 and lady Jane Grey 77 
 
 1 2 The princefs Elizabeth 8 1 
 
 1 3 Lamentable complaint of queen Mary, for the 
 
 unkind departure of king Philip 83 
 
 \\ThebattleofCorichie 88 
 
 15 The dutchefs of Suffolk's calamity - 92 
 
 1 6 >ueen Elizabeth's behaviour at Tilbury 99 
 
 17 Life and death of Thomas Siukeley - - 103 
 VOL. II. A 18 Quetn
 
 THE CONTENTS. 
 
 1 8 Queen Elizabeth's champion, or the earl of 
 
 EJJex's viftory o<ver the emperor 1 1 
 ig The beheading of Robert Devereux, earl of 
 
 20 Lamentable ballad on the earl of EJ/ex^s death 123 
 
 21 Life and death of queen Elizabeth 127 
 2 2 The honour of a London ''prentice 134 
 23 The true lovers knot unty'd - 141 
 34 Afermanfs forrovu for the death of queen Anne, 
 
 confortofjamesl. 146 
 
 25 An excellent fang of the fucceffors of Edward IV. j 5 t 
 
 26 The fea-fght off Cape la Hague t in 1692 158 
 
 27 Admiral Fernoti's anftver to Hojler's Ghoft 1 60 
 
 28 Eritijh triumphs - 163 
 
 29 The ccmplaiht and lamentation of miftrej/e Ar- 
 
 den of Fever/ham 165 
 
 30 Lord Wigmore and the fair ipaid of Dunfmore 174 
 
 3 1 Hengifi and Mey 1 80 
 
 32 Sir James the Ro/s 1 88 
 
 33 The Jong of Co Ima 197 
 
 34 Nat bos and Dart hula 202 
 
 35 Cbilde Waters 208 
 
 36 Ear I Walter 216 
 
 37 Edwin and Ethelinde > 222 
 
 38 Damon and Cbloe 226 
 
 39 Lord George and lad) Dorothy - . 230 
 
 40 Ed<win and Emma ? 237 
 
 41 The Hermit 2 43 . 
 
 42 Matilda -r- 2jo 
 
 I 43 Alifia
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 43 253 
 
 44. Allen and Ella. .. ... . , 2 <.j 
 
 45 CcA'w <sW Nancy T 2 2 
 
 46 William and Fanny _ > 2 6^ 
 
 47 Amintor and Anna _ . 27, 
 
 48 Damon and Sylvia _ 277 
 
 49 The Maid of Agha<vore __ 2 -7g 
 
 50 7^ Z)/>^ o/~ O^* _ 2 g , 
 
 51 Kind Advice 2 gw 
 $z 'The Drinking Match at Eden-ball -- 2g i 
 
 53 TbeDoweyDm 2 9 5 
 
 54 D;/^ 2g9 
 
 55 ?Zv jF/?/> Penitent . ^ __ , o ,.
 
 A 
 COLLECTION 
 
 O F 
 
 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 i. 
 
 The Execution of Sir CHARLES BAWDIN. 
 
 &e following fiect is the production of Thomat Ro--wlie t 
 a prieft in the \^th century ; and is Juppofed to have been 
 written fame time after the event nuhich is thejubjecl of it, 
 and which happened in Briftol, in the year 1 46 1 , ivhen 
 Edward IT, and the duke of Gloucester (afterwards 
 Richard III.) were in that city. 
 
 TH E featherde fongfterre Chaunticleer 
 Hanne wounde hys bugle home, 
 And tolde the carlie villagers 
 The commynge of the morne : 
 
 Kynge Edward fawe the ruddie ftreakes 
 
 Of lyghte eclypfe the greie; 
 And heardethe ravenn's crokrnge throte 
 
 Proclayme the fatcdd daie. 
 
 VOL. II. & Thou'rt
 
 2 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 Thou'rt ryghte, quod hee, for, bye the Godde> 
 
 That fyttes enthron'd on hyghe ! 
 Charles Bawdin, and hys fellovves twaine, 
 
 To-daie flialle furelie die. 
 
 Thenne wythe a jugge of nappy ale 
 Hys knyghtes dydd enne hymm vraite j 
 
 Goe tell the traytor, thatt to-daie 
 Hee leaves thys mortalle ftate. 
 
 Syrr Canterlone thenne bendedd lo\ve, 
 Wythe harte brymm fulle of woe, ; 
 
 Hee journey'd to the caftlc-gate, 
 And to fyrr Charles dydd goe. 
 
 Butt whenne he came, hys children twarne, 
 
 And eke hys lovynge wyfe, 
 Wythe brinie tears dydd wett the floore, 
 
 For goode fyrr Charles's lyfe. 
 
 O goode fyrr Charles ! fayd Canterlone, 
 
 Badde tydyings I doe brynge. 
 Speek boldlie, manne, fayd brave fyrr Charles, 
 
 Whatte fays thie traytor kynge? 
 
 Tgreeveto telle, before yonne fonne 
 
 Does fromme the welkinn flye, 
 Hee hath uponne hys honorr fayde,> 
 
 Thatt thou fhalt furelie die. 
 
 Wee
 
 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 Wee all muft die, quod brave fyrr Charles ; 
 
 Of thatte I 'm not affearde ; 
 Whatte bootes to lyve a little fpace ? 
 
 Thanke Jefu I'm prepar'd : 
 
 Butt telle thye kynge, for myne hee's not* 
 
 I'de foonerr die to-daie 
 Thanne lyve hys Have, as manic are, 
 
 Tho' I mould lyve for aie. 
 
 Thenne Canterlone hee dydd goe out, 
 
 To telle the maior ftraite 
 To gett all thynges ynne readynefs 
 
 Forre goode fyrr Charles's fate. 
 
 Thenne maifterr Canynge faughte the kynge, 
 
 And felle down onne hys knee ; 
 I'm comme, quod hee, unto your grace 
 
 To move your clemencye. 
 
 Thenne quod the kynge, Youre tale fpeeke out, 
 You have been much oure friende ; 
 
 Whateverr youre requeft may bee, 
 Wee wyllc to ytte attende. 
 
 Mye noble leige ! alle mye requeft 
 
 Ys for a nobile knyghte, 
 Whoe, tho' mayhap hee has donne wronge, 
 
 Hee thoughte ytte ftylle was ryghte : 
 
 Hee
 
 4 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 Heehas a fpoufe and childrcnne twaine, 
 
 AlJe rewyn'd are forr aie ; 
 Yff that you are refolv'd to lett 
 
 Charles Bawdin die to-daie. 
 
 Speek nott of fuch a traytorr vile, 
 
 The kynge ynne furie fayde ; 
 Before the evening- ttarre lhalle flieene, 
 
 Bawdin fhalle loofe hys hedde : 
 
 Juflice doesloudlie for hymm calle, 
 
 Arid hee fhalle have hys meede : 
 Speeke, maifterr Canynge ! whatte thynge elfe 
 
 Att prefent doe you neede ? 
 
 Mye nobile leige ! goode Canynge fayde, 
 
 Leave juftice to our Godde, 
 And laye the yronne rule afyde ; 
 
 Bee thyne the olyve rodde. 
 
 Was Godde toferche our hertes and reincs, 
 
 The beft were fynners grete ; 
 Chrift's vycarr only knowes ne fynne, 
 
 Ynne alle this mortalle ftate. 
 
 Lette Mercie rule thyne ynnfante reigne, 
 'Twylle fafte thye crowne fulle fure ; 
 
 From race to race thye familie 
 Alle fov'reigns iliallc endure : 
 
 Butt
 
 OLD BALLADS. 5 
 
 Butt yfF wythe bloocle and flaughter thou 
 
 Beginne thye ynnfante reigne, 
 Thyecrowne uponne thye childrennes brows 
 
 Wylle neverr long remayne. 
 
 Canynge, awaie ! thys traytorr vile 
 
 Has fcorn'd my powerr and mee ; 
 Howe canft thou thenne forr fuch a manne 
 
 Intreate my clemencye ? 
 
 Mye nobile leige ! the trulie brave 
 
 Wylle val'rous adlions prize, 
 Refpeft a brave and nobile mynde, 
 
 Altho' ynnc enemies. 
 
 Canynge, awaie ! by Godde ynne heav'nne, 
 
 Thatt dydd mee beinge gyve, 
 I wylle nott tafte a bitt of breade 
 
 Whilft thys fyrr Charles dothe lyve ! 
 
 Bye Marie, and alle feinftes ynne hcav'nne, 
 
 Thys funne flialle bee hys lafte ! 
 Thenne Canynge dropt a brinie teare, 
 
 And from the prefence pafte. 
 
 Wythe herte brymm fulle of gnawynge grief, 
 
 Hec to fyrr Charles dydd goe, 
 And fatt hymm downe uponne a ftoole, 
 
 And teares beganne to flowe. 
 
 B 3 Wee
 
 6 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 Wee all muft die, quod brave fyrr Charles ; 
 
 Whatte booties ytte howe or vvhenne ; 
 Dethe ys the fure, the certaine fate 
 
 Of all we mortalle menne. 
 
 Saye whye, mye friend, thie honeft foul 
 
 Runns overr att thyne eye ; 
 Is ytte forr mye moft welcomme doome 
 
 That thou doft child-lyke crye ? 
 
 Quod godlie Canynge, I doe weepe, 
 
 Thatt thou foe foone muft dye, 
 And leave thye helplefs fonnes behynde j 
 
 'Tys thys thatt wettes myne eye. 
 
 Thenne drie the tears thatt out thyne eye 
 Fromme godlie fountains fprynge ; 
 
 Dethe I defpife, and alle the powerr 
 Of Edwarde, traytorr kynge. 
 
 Whenne thro' the tyrant's welcomme mean?, 
 
 I fhalle refigne mye lyfe, 
 The Godde I ferve wylle foone provyde 
 
 For bothe mye fonnes and wyfe. 
 
 Before I fawe the lyghtfome funne, 
 
 Thys was appointed mee ; 
 Shalle mortal manne repyne and grudge 
 
 Whatte Godde ordaynes to bee ? 
 
 Howe
 
 OLD BALLADS. ; 
 
 Howe oft ynne battaile have I ftoode, 
 
 Whenne thoufands dy'd arounde; 
 Whenne fmokynge ftreemes of crymfon bloode 
 
 Imbrew'd the fatten'dde grounde : 
 
 Howe dydd I knowe thatt ev'ry darte, 
 
 Thatt cutte the airie waie, 
 Myghte nott fynde paflage toe mye herte, 
 
 And clofe myne eyes for aie ? 
 
 And fhalle I nowe, forr feare of dethe, 
 
 Looke wanne and bee difmayde ? 
 Ne ! fromme my herte flie childifli feere, 
 
 Bee alle the manne difplay'd. 
 
 Ah, goddelyke Henrie ! Godde forefende, 
 
 And guarde thee and thye ibnne, 
 Yff 'tis hys wyllc ; and yft"'tis nott, 
 
 Whye thenne hys wylle bee donne, 
 
 Mye honeft friende, mye faulte has beenc 
 
 To ferve Godde and mye prynce j 
 And thatt I no tyme. ferverr a mm, 
 
 Mye dethe wylle foon convynce. 
 
 Ynne London ue citye was I borne, 
 
 Of parents ofgrete note; 
 My fader dydd a nobile armes 
 
 Emblazenn onne his cote: 
 
 84 I mak
 
 8 OLD BALLADS, 
 
 I make ne doubte butt hee ys gone 
 
 Where foone I hope to goe ; 
 Where wee forr everr bleft malle bee, 
 
 Fromme oute the reech of woe : 
 
 Hee taughte mee juftice and the laws 
 
 Wythe pitie to unite ; 
 And eke hee taughte njee howe to knowe 
 
 The wronge caufe fromme the ryghte : 
 
 Hee taughte meewythe a prudent handc 
 
 To feede the hungrie poore, 
 Ne lett mye farvants dryve awaie 
 
 The hungrie fromme mye doore : 
 
 And none canne faye, butt alle mye lyfe 
 
 I have hys wordyes kept ; 
 And fumm'd the aftyonns of the daie 
 
 Eche nyghte before I flept. 
 
 I have a fpoufe, goe aflce of her, 
 
 Yff I defyl'd herr bedde ? 
 I have a kynge, and none canne laie 
 
 Blacke treafonn onne mye hedde. 
 
 Ynne Lent, and onne the holie eve, 
 
 Fromme flelhe I did refrayne ; 
 Whie mould I thenne appeare difmay'd 
 
 TO leave thys worlde of payne ? 
 
 Ne!
 
 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 Ne ! haplefs Henrie ! I rejoyce, 
 
 I fhalle-ne fee thye dethe j 
 Moftc willynglie in thye juft caufe 
 
 Doe I refign mye brethe. 
 
 Oh, fickle people ! rewyn'd londe ! 
 
 Thou wylt kenne peace ne moe ; 
 Whyle Richard's fonnes exalt themfclvcs, 
 
 Thye brookes wythe bloude wylle fidwe. 
 
 Sale, w^re ye tyr'd of godlie peace, 
 
 And godlie Henric's reigne, 
 Thatt you dydd choppe youre eafie dales 
 
 For thofe of bloude and peyne ? 
 
 Whatte tho' I onne a fledde bee dravvne, 
 
 And mangledd bye a hynde, 
 I doe defye the traytorr's pow'rre, 
 
 Hee canne ne hurte mye mynde ; 
 
 Whatte tho', uphoifled onne a pole, 
 Mye lymbes fhalle rotte ynne ayre, 
 
 And ne ryche monument of brafle 
 Charles Bawdin's name fhalle bear ; 
 
 Yettynne the holie booke above, 
 Whyche tyme can't eate awaie, 
 
 There wythe the farvants of the Lorde 
 Mye name ihalle lyve for aie. 
 
 Thenne
 
 nc 
 
 io O L D B A L L A D S. 
 
 Thenne welcomme dethe ! forr lyfe eterne 
 
 I leave thys mortalle lyfe : 
 Farewell, vayne worfde, and alle that 's deare, 
 
 Mye fonnes and lovynge wyfe ! 
 
 Nowe dethe as wellcomme to mee comes, 
 
 As e'er the monthe of Male ; 
 Norr wou'de I evenn wyflie to lyve, 
 
 Wythe mye dere wyfe to ftaie. 
 
 Quod Canynge, 'Tys a goodlie thynge 
 
 To bee prepar'd to die ; 
 And fromme this place of care and pey 
 
 To Goddc ynne Heav'nne to flic. 
 
 And nowe the belle beganne to tolie, 
 
 And claryonnes to founde ; 
 Syrr Charles hee herde the horfes feete 
 
 A prauncyng onne the grounde: 
 
 And juft before the officerrs, 
 
 His lovynge wyfe came ynne, 
 Weepynge unfeigned teeres of woe, 
 
 Wythe loude and dyfmalle dynne, 
 
 Sweet Florence ! nowe I praie forbere, 
 
 Ynne quiet lett mee die ; 
 Praie Godde, thatt ev'rye chryflianne foule 
 
 Maye looke onne dethe as I. 
 
 Sweet
 
 O L ID B A L L A D S. u 
 
 Sweet Florence ! vvhye thefe brinie teares ? 
 
 Theye wafhe mye foule awaie, 
 And almoft make mee wyftie forr lyfe, 
 
 Wythe thee fvveete dame, to ftaie, 
 
 'Tys butt a journie I fhalle goe 
 
 Untoe the land of blyfle ; 
 Novve, as a proofeof hufbande's love, 
 
 Receive thys holie kyfTe. 
 
 Then nc Florence, fault'ringynne herrfaie, 
 
 Tremblynge thefe wordyes fpoke, 
 Ah, cruele Edwarde ! bloudie kynge ! 
 
 Mye herteys vvelle nigh broke : 
 
 Ah, fweete fyrr Charles ! whye wylt thou goe , 
 
 Wythoute thye lovynge wyfe ? 
 The cruelle axe thatt cuttes thye necke, 
 
 Ytte eke fhalle ende mye lyfe. 
 
 And nowe the officers came ynne 
 
 To brynge fyrr Charles awaie, 
 Whoe turnedd toe hys lovynge wyfe, 
 
 And thus toe her dydd faie : 
 
 I goe to lyfe, and nott to dethe : 
 
 Trufte thou ynneGodde above, 
 And teache thy fonnes to feare the Lorde, 
 
 And ynne theyre hertes hymm love, 
 
 Teache
 
 12 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 Teache themm to runne the nobile race 
 
 Thatt I theyre faderr runne : 
 Florence ! dydd dethe thee take Adieu ! 
 
 Yeeofficerrs, leadeonne. 
 
 Thenne Florence rav'd as anie madde, 
 
 And dydd her trefies teer ; 
 Oh ! ftaie, mye hufbande ! lordc ! and lyfe ! 
 
 Syrr Charles thenne dropt a teare. 
 
 Tyll tyredd oute wythe ravynge loud, 
 
 Shee fallenn onne the floore ; 
 Syrr Charles exertedd alle hys myghte, 
 
 And march'de fromme oute the doore. 
 
 Uponne a fledde hee mountedd thenne, 
 Wythe lookes fulle brave and fwete ; 
 
 Lookes that enfhone ne moe concern 
 Thanne anie ynne the ftrete. 
 
 Before hymm went the councille menne, 
 
 Ynne fcarlert robes and 'golde, 
 Andtaffils fpanglynge ynne the funne, 
 
 Muche glorious to beholde : 
 
 The fre'rs of Seinfte Auguftyne next 
 
 Appearcdd to the fyghte, 
 Alle cladd ynne homelie ruffett weedes, 
 
 Of godlie monkylh plyghte : 
 
 Yane
 
 OLD BALLADS. 13 
 
 Ynne diffraunt partes a godlie pfaiime 
 
 Mofte fweetlie theye dydd chauftte ; 
 Behynde theyre backes fyx mynitrelles came, 
 
 Whoe tun'd the ftrunge batailntc ; 
 
 Thenne five-and-twentye archerrs came ; 
 
 Echone the bowe dydd bende, 
 Fromm reicue of kynge Henrie's friends 
 
 Syrr Charles forr to defend, 
 
 Boldc as a lyon came Syrr Charles, 
 
 Drawne onne a clothe-Iayde fledde, 
 Bye two black fledes ynne trappyuges white, 
 
 Wythe plumes uponne theyre hedde : 
 
 Behynde hymm, five-and-t\vcnty moe 
 
 Of archerrs ftronge and ftoute, 
 Wythe bendedd bowe echone ynne hande, 
 
 Marchedd ynne goodlie route : 
 
 Seindle James's freers marchedd next, 
 
 Echone hys parte dydd chaunte ; 
 Behynde theyre backes fix mynftrelles came, 
 
 Whoe tun'd the ftrunge bataunte : 
 
 Thenne came the maior and eldermenne, 
 
 Ynne clothe of fcarlett decki; ; 
 And theyre attendyng menne echone, 
 
 Like Eafterne princes trick t : 
 
 And
 
 14 OLDBALLA D S. 
 
 Ad afterr themm a multitude 
 
 Of citizenns dydd thronge ; 
 The wyndovves were alle fulle of heddes, 
 
 As he did pafle alonge. 
 
 And whenne hee came to the hyghe crofle, 
 
 Syrr Charles dydd turn and faie, 
 O thou, thatt faveft manne fromme fynne, 
 
 Wafhe mye foule clean thys daie ! 
 
 Att the greate mynfterr windowe fattc 
 
 The kynge ynne myckle ftate, 
 To fee Charles Bawdin goe alonge 
 
 To hys moft welcomme fate. 
 
 Soone as the fledde drew nyghe enowe, 
 Thatt Edvvarde hee myghte heare, 
 
 The brave Syrr Charles hee dydd ftande uppe, 
 And thus hys wordes declare : 
 
 Thou feefl mee, Edwarde ! traytorr vyle ! 
 
 Expos'd to infamie ; 
 Butt bee affur'd difloyalle manne ! 
 
 I'mm greaterr nowe thanne thee. 
 
 Bys foule proceedyngs, murdre, bloude, 
 
 Thou weareft nowe a crowne ; 
 And haft appoyntedd mee to dye, 
 
 Bye powerr not thye owne. 
 
 Tio
 
 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 Thou thynkeft I fhalle dye to-daie ; 
 
 I have beene dede 'tyll novve, 
 And foone fhalle lyve to weare forr aie 
 
 A crowne uponne mye browe : 
 
 Whylft thou, pcrhapps, forr fomme few yeares, 
 
 Shalltrule thys fickle lande, 
 To lett themm knovvc howe wyde the rul 
 
 'Twixt kynge and tyrant hande : 
 
 Thye pow'rr unjuft, thou traytorr flave ! 
 
 Shalle falle onne thye owne hedde 
 Fromm out the hearyng of the kynge 
 
 Departedd thenne the fledde. 
 
 Kynge Edwarde's foule rufh'dd to hys face, 
 
 Hee turn'dd hys hedde awaie, 
 And to hys broderr Gloucefter 
 
 Hee thus dydd fpeeke and faie : 
 
 To hymm that foe-much-dreadedd dethe 
 
 Ne ghaftlie feares canne brynge ! 
 Beholde the manne ! hee fpoke the truthe, 
 
 Hee's greaterr thanne a kynge ! 
 
 See lett hymm die ! duke Richard fayde ; 
 
 And maye echone oure foes 
 Bende dovvne theyre neckes to bloudie axe, 
 
 And feede the caryonn crowes. 
 
 Anl
 
 16 OLDBALLAfrS. 
 
 And nowe the horfes gentlie drewe 
 Syrr Charles uppe the hyghe hylle ; 
 
 The axe dydd glyflerrynne the funne^ 
 Hys pretious bloude to fpylle. 
 
 Syrr Charles dydd uppe the fcaftbld goe, 
 
 As uppe a gilded carre 
 Of vi&orye, bye val'rous chiefs, 
 
 Gayn'd ynne the bloudie warre : 
 
 And to the people hee dydd faie, / 
 
 Beholde you fee mee dye, 
 For fervynge loyallye mye kynge, 
 
 Mye kynge inofi ryghtfullie. 
 
 As longe as Edwarde rules thys lande, 
 
 Ne quiet you wylle knowe ; 
 Youre fonnes and hufoandes fhalle bee fiayne, 
 
 And brookes wythe bloude fhalle flowe. 
 
 You leave youre goode and lawfulle kynge, 
 
 Whenne ynne adverfitye ; 
 Lyke mee untoe the true caufe 'flycke, 
 
 And for the true caufe dye. 
 
 Thenn hee, wythe preeftes, uponnc hys knees^ 
 
 A pray'rr to Godde dydd make, 
 Befeechynge hymm unto himfelfe 
 
 Hys partynge foule to take.* 
 
 Thenne
 
 OLD BALLADS. 17 
 
 Thenne kneelynge downe, hee layd hys hedde, 
 
 Moft feemlie onne the blocke ; 
 Whyche fromme hys bodie fayre at once 
 
 The able heddes-manne ftroke : 
 
 And oute the bloude beganne to flowe, 
 
 And rounde the fcaffolde tvvyne ; 
 And teares enow to wafhe 't awaie, 
 
 Dydd flowe fromme each manne's eyne; 
 
 The bloudie axe hys bod ye fayre 
 
 Ynnto foure parties cutte ; 
 And ev'rye parte, and eke hys hedde, 
 
 Uponne a pole was putte. 
 
 One parte dydd rotte onne Kynwulph-Hylle, 
 
 One onne the mynfterr-towerr, 
 And one fromme off the caftle-gate 
 
 The crowenn dydd devoure : 
 
 The other onne Seynfte Powle's goode gate, 
 
 A dreery fpeclacle ; 
 Hys hedde was plac'd onne the hyghe crofle, 
 
 Ynne hyghe ftreete molt nobile. 
 
 Thus was the ende of Bawdin's fate : 
 
 Godde profperr longe oure kynge, 
 And grante hee maye, wythe Bawdin's foule, 
 
 Ynne Heav'nne Godde's mercie fynge ! 
 
 VOL, II. C II.
 
 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 m 
 
 The moft cruel rnurther of Edward V, and his 
 brother the dake of York, in the Tower, by their 
 uncle the duke of Glocefter. 
 
 WHEN God had ta'en away true wifdom's king,. 
 Edward the IVth, whofe fame fhall always ring ; 
 Which reigned had full two and twenty years, 
 And ruled well amongfl his noble peers. 
 
 When as he dy'd, two fons he left behind, 
 The prince of Wales, and duke of York moft kind: 
 The prince the eldeft, but eleven years old ; 
 The duke more young, as chronicles have told. 
 
 The dead king's brother, duke of Glocefter, 
 Was chofen for the prince his protector ; 
 Who ftraitvvay plotted how to get the crown, 
 And pull his brother Edward's children down. 
 
 Edward the fifth the prince was call'd by name, 
 Who by fucceffion did that title gain : 
 A prudent prince, whofe wifdom did excel, 
 Which made his uncle's heart with hatred fwell. 
 
 2 Then
 
 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 Then did the duke ufe all the means he might, 
 By damn'd devices for to work their fpitc 5 
 At length the devil put it in his head , 
 How all his plots mould beaccomplimed. 
 
 With fugar'd words, which had a poifon'd fling, 
 He did entice the duke and the young king, 
 For fafety's fake to lodge them in tke Tower ; 
 A ftrong defence, and London's chiefeft flower* 
 
 With fair-fpoke fpeeches and bewitching charms, 
 He told them 'twould fecure them from all harms : 
 Thus by fair words, yet cruel treachery, 
 He won their hearts within the Tower to lie. 
 
 Great entertainment he thefe princes gave, 
 And caus'd the Tower to be furnim'd brave ; 
 With fumptuous chear he feafted them that day : 
 Thus fubtle wolves with harmlefs lambs do play. 
 
 With mufick fweet he fill'd their princely ears, 
 And to their face a fmiling count'nance bears ; 
 But his foul heart with mifchief was pofTefs'd, 
 And treach'rous thoughts were always in his breaft, 
 
 When as bright Phoebus had pofTefs'd the weft, 
 And that the time was come for all to reft ; 
 The duke of Glo'fter the two princes led 
 Into a fumptuous chamber to their bed. 
 
 When
 
 20 O L D B A L L A D S. 
 
 When thefe fweet children thus were laid in bed, 
 And to the Lord their hearty prayers had faid ; 
 Sweet flumb'ring deep then clofing up their eyes, 
 Each folded in the other's arms there lies. 
 
 The bloody uncle of thefe children fweet, 
 Unto a knight to break his mind thought meet ; 
 One Sir James Tyrrill, which did think it beft, 
 For to agree unto his vile requeft. 
 
 Sir James, he faid, my refolution 's this, 
 And for to do the fame you muft not mifs : 
 This night fee that the king be murthered, 
 With the young duke, as they do lie in bed : 
 
 So when thefe branches I have hewed down, 
 There is none left to keep me from the crown : 
 My brother, duke of Clarence, he was found 
 I ' th' Tower, within a butt of Malmfey drown'd : 
 
 It was my plot that he mould drowned be, 
 'Caufe none mould claim the crown but only me : 
 And when thefe children thou haft murthered, 
 I '11 wear that diadem upon my head. 
 
 And know, thou Tyrrill, when that I am king, 
 I'll raife thy ftate, and honours tothee bring, 
 Then be refolv'd, and be not thou afraid. 
 My lord, I'll do it, bloody Tyrrill faid. 
 
 He
 
 OLDBALLADS. 21 
 
 He got two villains for to aft this part, 
 Difguifed murtherers, each a hell- bred heart ; 
 The one Miles Foreft, which their keeper was, 
 The other John Dighton, matter of his horfe. 
 
 At midnight then, when all things they were hufh'd 
 Thefe bloody flavesinto the chamber rufh'd ; 
 And to the bed full fofdy they did creep, 
 Where thefe fweet princes lay full faft aflcep : 
 
 Who prefently did wrap them in the cloaths, 
 And ftopp'd their harmlefs breath with the pillows; 
 Yet did they flrive and ftruggle what they might, 
 Until the flaves had ftifled both them quite. 
 
 When as the murth'rers faw that they were dead, 
 They took their bodies forth the fatal bed ; 
 And then they bury'd thefe fame little ones, 
 At the ftair-feet, under a heap of ftones. 
 
 But mark how God did fcourge them for this deed, 
 As in the chronicles you there may read 
 Blood deferves blood, for fo the Lord hath faid ; 
 And at the length their blood was truly paid. 
 
 For when their uncle he had reign'd two years, 
 He fell at variance then amongft his peers ; 
 In Lei'fterfhire, at Bofworth he was flain, 
 By Richmond's earl, as he did rightly gain. 
 
 C 3 In
 
 22 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 In pieces he was hewed by his foes ; 
 Thus Richard crook-back ended life with woes ; 
 They ftripp'd him then, and dragg'd him up and down. 
 And on ftout Richmond's head they put the crown. 
 
 The bloody muKherer, Sir James Tyrrill, 
 For treafon lof: his head on Tower-Hill ; 
 And to Miles Foreft fell no worfe a lot ; 
 Alive in pieces he away did rot. 
 
 And John Dighton, the other bloody fiend, 
 No man could tell how he came to his end. 
 Thus God did pay thefe murth'rers for their hire ; 
 And hell-bred Pluto plagues them now with fire. 
 
 HI. 
 
 The life and death of the great Duke of Buckingham, 
 who came to an untimely end, for confenting to the 
 depofing of the two gallant young princes, king Ed 
 ward the fourth's children. 
 
 A Tale of grief I muft unfold, 
 A tale that never yet was told, 
 A tale that might to pity move, 
 The fpirits below, the faints above. 
 
 When
 
 OLD BALLADS 23 
 
 When wars did plague this maiden land, 
 Great Buckingham in grace did ftand ; 
 With kings and queens he ruled fo, 
 When he faid Ay, none durft fay No. 
 
 Great Gloucefter's duke that wafli'd the throne 
 With blood of kings to make 't his own, 
 By Henry Stafford's help obtain'd 
 What reafon will'd to be.refrain'd. 
 
 If any noble of this land, 
 Againft great Gloucefter's aim did ftand, 
 Old Buckingham with might and powet, 
 In grievous woes did him devour. 
 
 He hop'd when Richard was made king, 
 He would much greater honours bring 
 To Buckingham and to his name, 
 And well reward him for the fame. 
 
 In Clarence death he had a hand, 
 
 And 'gainft king Edward's queen did ftand, 
 
 And to her fons bore little love, 
 
 When he as baftards would them prov. 
 
 King Edward fwore him by his oatK, 
 In true allegiance to them both, 
 Which if I fail, I wifh, quoth he, 
 All chriftians curfe may light on me. 
 
 CA I:
 
 24 OLDBALLADS, 
 
 It fo fell out on All Souls day, 
 By law his life was ta'en away : 
 He had his wifh, tho' not his will, 
 For treafon's end is always ill. 
 
 In London having pleaded claim, 
 And Richard thereby won the game, 
 He challeng'd honour for his gain, 
 But was rewarded with difdain. 
 
 On which difgrace within few hours, 
 Great Buckingham had rais'd his powers : 
 But all in vain, the king was ftrong, 
 And Stafford needs muft fuffer wrong. 
 
 His army fail'd, and durft not (land, 
 Upon a traytor's falfe command. 
 Being thus deceiv'd, old Stafford fled, 
 And knew not where to hide his head. 
 
 The king with fpeed to have him found, 
 Did offer full ten thoufand pound : 
 Thus Richard fought to caft him down, 
 Whofe wit did win him England's crown. 
 
 The plain old duke his life to fave, 
 Of his own man did fuccour crave ; 
 In hope that he would him relieve, 
 That late much land to him did give. 
 
 Bafc
 
 OLD BALLADS. 25 
 
 Bafe Banifter this man was nam'd, 
 By this vile deed for ever iham'd .- 
 It is, quoth he, a common thing, 
 To injure him who wrong'dhis king. 
 
 King Edward's children he betray'd, 
 The like 'gainft him I well have plaid : 
 Being true, my heart him greatly grac'd, 
 But proving falfe that love is paft. 
 
 Thus Banifler his matter fold 
 Unto his foe for hire of gold ; 
 But mark his end, and rightly fee, 
 The juft reward of treachery. 
 
 The duke by law did lofe his head, 
 For him he fought to do mott good ; 
 The man that wrought his matter's woe, 
 By lingring grief was brought full low. 
 
 For when the king did hear him fpeak, 
 How bafely he the duke did take, 
 Inftead of gold gave him disgrace, 
 With banifhment from town to place. 
 
 Thus Banifter was forc'dto beg, 
 And crave for food with cap and leg, 
 But none on him would bread beftow, 
 That to his matter prov'd a foe. 
 
 Thus
 
 26 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 Thus wandring in this poor eftate, 
 Repenting his mifdeeds too late, 
 Till ftarved he gave up his breath, 
 By no man pitied at his death. 
 
 To woful end his children came, 
 Sore punilh'd for their father's fliame : 
 Within a channel one was drown'd, 
 Where water fcarce could hide the ground. 
 
 Another by the powers divine, 
 Was ftrangely eaten up of fwine : 
 The laft a woful ending makes, 
 By ftrangling in an empty jakes. 
 
 Let traytors thus behold and fee, 
 
 And fuch as falfe to mailers be ; 
 
 Let difobedient fons draw near, 
 
 The judgments well may touch them near. 
 
 Both old and young that live not well, 
 Look to be plagu'd from heaven or hell j 
 So have you heard the ftory then 
 Of this great duke of Buckingham. 
 
 IV.
 
 OLD BALLADS. 27 
 
 IV. 
 
 A fong of the life and death of king Richard III, who, 
 after many murthers by him committed upon the prin- 
 ces and nobles of this land, was flain at the battle of 
 Bofworth, in Leicefterlhire, by Henry VII. king of 
 England. 
 
 IN England once there reign'd a king, 
 A tyrant fierce and fell, 
 Who for to gain himfelf a crown, 
 
 Gave fure his foul to hell : 
 Third Richard was this tyrant's name, 
 
 The worft of all the three ; 
 That wrought fuch deeds of deadly dole, 
 That worfer could not be. 
 
 For his defires were Hill (by blood) 
 
 To be made England's king, 
 Which he to gain that golden prize, 
 
 Did many a wondrous thing : 
 He flaughter'd up our noble peers, 
 
 And chiefeft in this land, 
 With every one that likely was 
 
 His title to withftand. 
 
 / four
 
 28 O L D B A L L A D S. 
 
 Four bloody fields the tyrant fought, 
 
 E're he could bring to pafs 
 What he made lawlefs claim unto, 
 
 As his belt liking was : 
 Sixth Henry's princely fon he flew, 
 
 Before his father's face, 
 And weeded from our Englifh throne, 
 
 All his renowned race. 
 
 This king likewife in London tower, 
 
 He murthering made away : 
 His brother duke of Clarence life, 
 
 He alfo did betray, 
 With thofe right noble princes twain, 
 
 King Edward's Children dear, 
 Becaufe to England's royal crown 
 
 He thought them both too near. 
 
 His own dear wife alfo he flew, 
 
 Inceftuoufly to wed 
 His own dear daughter, which for fear 
 
 Away from him was fled : 
 And made fuch havock in this land, 
 
 Of all the royal blood, 
 That only one was left unflain, 
 
 To have his claims withflood. 
 
 Earl
 
 OLD BALLADS. 29 
 
 Earl Richmond he by heaven preferv'd. 
 
 To right his country's wrong, 
 From France prepar'd full well to fight, 
 
 Brought o'er an army flrong : 
 To whom lord Stanley nobly came, 
 
 With many an Englilh peer, 
 And join'd their forces all in one, 
 
 Earl Richmond's heart tochear. 
 
 Which news when as the tyrant heard, 
 
 How they were come on more, 
 And how his forces day by day, 
 
 Jncreafed more and more : 
 He frets, he fumes, and ragingly 
 
 A madding fury fhows, 
 And thought it but in vain to flay, 
 
 And fo to battel goes. 
 
 Earl Richmond he in order brave, 
 
 His fearlefs army led, 
 In midft of whom thefe noble words, 
 
 Their valiant leader faid, 
 Now is the time and place, fweet friends, 
 
 And we the foldiers be, 
 That muft bring England's peace again, 
 
 Or lofe our lives muft we,
 
 30 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 Be valiant then, we fight for fame, 
 
 And for our country's good, 
 Againft a tyrant mark'd with fhame, 
 
 For fhedding Englifh blood : 
 I am right heir of Lancafter, 
 
 EntitPd to the crown, 
 Againft this bloody * boar of York, 
 
 Then let us win renown. 
 
 Mean while had furious Richard fee 
 
 His army in array, 
 And with a ghaftly look of fear, 
 
 Defparingly did fay, 
 Shall Henry Richmond with his troops 
 
 O'er-match us thus by might, 
 That comes with fearful cowardice, 
 
 With us this day to figh 1 : ? 
 
 Shall Tudor from Plantagenet 
 
 Win thus the crown away ? 
 No, Richard's noble mind foreteL, 
 
 That ours will be the day : 
 For golden crowns we bravely fight, 
 
 And gold lhall be their gain, 
 In great abundance giv'n to them, 
 
 That live this day unflain. 
 
 * Richard was afually called the Boar of York, by reafon of the 
 boar he had in hit coat of arras. 
 
 Thefe
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 
 
 Thefe words being fpoke, the battels join'd, 
 
 Where blows they bravely change, 
 And Richmond, like a lion bold, 
 
 Performed wonders flrange ; 
 And made fuch flaughter through the camp, 
 
 Till he king Richard 'fpies, 
 Who fighting long together there, 
 
 At laft the tyrant dies. 
 
 Thus ended England's woful war, 
 
 Ufurping Richard dead, 
 King Henry fair Elizabeth 
 
 In princely fort did wed : 
 For he was then made England's king, 
 And Ihe his crowned queen : 
 So 'twixt thefe houfes long at ftrife, 
 
 A unity was feen.
 
 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 V. 
 
 The Union of the Red Rofe and the White, by a marri- 
 age between king Henry VII. and a daughter of 
 Edward IV. 
 
 WHEN York and Lancafter made war 
 Within this famous land, 
 The lives of England's noble peers 
 
 Did much in danger ftand. 
 Seven Englifti kings in bloody fields, 
 
 For England's crown did fight ; 
 Of which their heirs were, all but twain, 
 Of life bereaved quite. 
 
 Then thirty thoufand Engliftimen 
 
 Were in one battel flain ; 
 Yet could not all this Englifh blood 
 
 A fettled peace obtain. 
 Fathers unkind their children kill'd, 
 
 And fons their fathers flew ; 
 Yea, kindred fought againfl their kind, 
 
 And not each other knt 
 
 At
 
 OLD BALLADS. 33 
 
 At laft, by Henry's lawful claim, 
 
 The wafting wars had end : 
 For England's peace Ire foon reftor'd > 
 
 And did the fame defend. 
 For tyrant Richard, ham'd the third, 
 
 The breeder of this woe, 
 By him was flain near Leicefter town,, 
 
 As chronicles do faow. 
 
 
 All feats of war he thus exil'd, 
 
 Whirh joy'd each Englifhman ; 
 And days of long-defired peace 
 
 Within the land began. . 
 He rul'd this kingdom by true lovc> 
 
 To chear his fubjefts lives : 
 For every one had daily joy. 
 
 And comfort of their wives. 
 
 King Henry had fuch princely cafe 
 
 Our further peace to frame, 
 Took fair Elizabeth to wife, 
 
 That gallant Yorkim dame : 
 Fourth Edward's daughter, blefs'd of God 
 
 To 'fcape king Richard's fpite, 
 Was thus made England's peerlefs queen, 
 
 And Henry's heart's delight. 
 
 VOL. II. D Thu*
 
 34 OLD BALLADS, 
 
 Thus Henry firft of Tudor's name, 
 
 And Lancafter the firft, 
 With York's right heir a true love's knot 
 
 Did link and tye full fail. 
 Renowned York the white rofe gave, 
 
 Brave Lancafter the red : 
 By wedlock now conjoin'd to grow 
 
 Both in one princely bed. 
 
 Thefe rofes fprang and budded fair, 
 
 And carry'd fuch a grace, 
 That kings of England in their arms 
 
 Aftbrd them worthy place. 
 And flourifh may thofe rofes long, 
 
 That all the world may tell, 
 How owners of thefe princely flow'rs 
 
 In virtues did excel. 
 
 To glorify thefe rofes more. 
 
 King Henry and his queen 
 Firft plac'd their pictures in wrought gold, 
 
 Moft gorgeous to be feen. 
 The king's own guard now wear the fame 
 
 Upon their back and breaft ; 
 Where love and loyalty remain, 
 
 And evermore mail reft. 
 
 The
 
 OLD BALLADS. 35 
 
 The red rofe on the back is plac'd, 
 
 Thereon a crown of gold : 
 The white rofe on the breaft is brave. 
 
 And coftly to behold. 
 Bedeck'd moft rich with filver ftuds> 
 
 On coat of fcarlet red ; 
 A bluftiing hue, which England's fame 
 
 Now many a year hath bred. 
 
 Thus Tudor and Plantagenet 
 
 Thefe honours firft devis'd, 
 To welcome long-defired peace, 
 
 With us fo highly priz'd. 
 A peace that now maintained is, 
 
 By James our royal king : 
 For peace brings plenty to the land, 
 
 With ev'ry blefled thing. 
 
 To fpeak again of Henry's praife, 
 
 His princely lib'ral hand 
 Gave gifts and graces many ways 
 
 Unto this famous land : 
 For which the lord him bleffings fent, 
 
 And multiply'd his ftore; 
 In that he left more wealth to us 
 
 Than any king before. 
 
 For
 
 36 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 For firft his fweet and lovely queen, 
 
 A joy above the reft, 
 Brought him both fons and daughters fair, 
 
 To make his kingdom blefs'd. 
 The royal blood that was at ebb, 
 
 So increas'd by his queen, 
 That England's heirs unto this day 
 
 Do flourilh fair and green. 
 
 The firft fair blefling of his feed 
 
 Was Arthur prince of Wales, 
 Whofe virtue to the Spanifh court 
 
 Quite o're the ocean fails. 
 There Ferdinand, the king of Spain, 
 
 His daughter Katherine gave 
 For wife unto the Englifh prince ; 
 
 A thing that God would have. 
 
 Yet Arthur in his lofty youth, 
 
 And blooming time of age, 
 Submitted meekly his fweet life 
 
 To death's impartial rage ; 
 Who dying fo, no ifTue left, 
 
 The fweet of nature's joy, 
 Which compafs'd England round with grief, 
 
 And Spain with fad annoy. 
 
 King
 
 OLD BALLADS. 37 
 
 King Henry's feconu comfort prov'd 
 
 A Henry of his name j 
 In following times ei.jhih Henry call'd, 
 
 A king of nob'e fame. 
 He conqu~r'd Bulloign with his f\vord, 
 
 With many towns in F 
 With manly mind, and fortitude, 
 
 Did England's fame advance. 
 
 He popifh abbeys firft fupprefs'd, 
 
 And papilhy pull'd down ; 
 And bound their lands by parliament 
 
 Unto his royal crown. 
 He had three children by three wives, 
 
 And princes reigning here ; 
 Edward, Mary, and Elizabeth 
 
 A queen belov'd moft dear. 
 
 Thefe three fweet branches bear no fruit, 
 
 God no fuch joy did fend ; 
 Thro* which the kingly Tudor's name 
 
 In England here had end. 
 The laft Plantagenet that livU 
 
 Was nam'd Elizabeth : 
 Elizabeth laft Tudor was, 
 
 The greateil queen on earth. 
 
 Seventh 
 
 121363
 
 38 OLD BALLADS, 
 
 Seventh Henry yet we name again, 
 
 Whofe grace gave free confent 
 To have his daughters marry'd both 
 
 To kings of high defcent : 
 Marg'ret, the eldeft of the twain, 
 
 Was made great Scotland's queen j 
 As wife, as fair, as virtuous 
 
 As e're was lady feen. 
 
 From which fair queen, our royal king 
 
 Does lineally defcend ; 
 And rightfully enjoys that crown, 
 
 Which God does (till befriend. 
 For Tudor and Plantagenet, 
 
 By yielding unto death, 
 Have made renowned Stuart's name 
 
 The greateft upon earth. 
 
 His youngeft daughter, Mary call'd, 
 
 As princely in degree, 
 Was by her father worthy thought 
 
 The queen of France to be : 
 And after to the Suffolk cfuke 
 
 Was made a noble wife, 
 When in the famous Englifti court 
 
 She led a virtuous life.
 
 OLD BALLADS. 39 
 
 King Henry and his loving queen 
 
 Rejoic'd to fee the day, 
 To have their children thus advanc'd 
 
 With honours every way. 
 Which purchased pleafure and content, 
 
 With many years delight ; 
 Till fad mifchance, by cruel death, 
 
 Procur'd them botli a fpke. 
 
 The queen, that fair and princely dame, * 
 
 That mother meek and mild, 
 To add more number to her joy, 
 
 Again grew big with child : 
 All which brought comfort to her king, 
 
 Againfc which careful hour, 
 He lodg'd his dear kind-hearted queen 
 
 In London's ftately tower. 
 
 That tow'r that was fo fatal once 
 
 To princes of degree, 
 Prov'd fatal to this noble queen, 
 
 For therein died me. 
 In childbed loft me her fweet life, 
 
 Her life eftcem'd fo dear ; 
 Which had been England's loving queen 
 
 Full many a happy year. 
 
 D 4 Th
 
 4 OLD BALLADS, 
 
 The king herewith poflefs'd with grief, 
 
 Spent many months in moan ; 
 And daily iigh'd and faid, that he, 
 
 Like her, could find out none ; 
 Nor none could he in fancy chufe 
 
 To make his wedded wife ; 
 Wherefore a widow'r would remain 
 
 The remnant of his life. 
 
 His after-days he fpent in peace 
 
 And quietnefs of mind : 
 Like king and queen, as thefe two were, 
 
 The world can hardly find. 
 Our king and queen, yet like to them 
 
 In virtue and true love, 
 Have heav'nly bleffings in like fort, 
 
 From heav'nly pow'rs above. 
 
 Vf.
 
 OLD BALLADS. 41 
 
 VI. 
 
 The ftory of 111 May-day, in the time of king Henry 
 VIII. and why it was fo called ; and how queen Ca- 
 therine begged the lives of two thoufand London ap- 
 prentices . fc 
 
 tfhe folhwing fong is founded upon a faci ; nor has the 
 writer taken many liberties in altering it, having only mag- 
 nified and illufl rated the ftory. The thing happened on the 
 May -eve, of the year 1517, the eighth of Henry Faith's 
 reign. Numbers of foreigners were at that time fettled in 
 England, with particular privileges ; and our author ob- 
 ferves, ran a-ivay with the great eft part of the trade, wbilft 
 feveral of the natives wanted. Exafperated at this, Jeve- 
 ral were for encouragijig a tumult, but particularly one 
 Lincolne, a broker, 'who hired a certain preacher, called 
 J)r. Bele, to inflame the people by his ferwns, c fhe court 
 perceived what the citizens would fain be at, but to pre- 
 vent them, an order was fent by the king and his privy - 
 council to the lord-mayor and aldermen, that they required 
 every houfekeeper, under v ery fever e penalties, to take care 
 that all his fervants and his vjhole family Jhould be with- 
 in- doors by nine at night ; and this the magijlrates were to 
 fee punctually performed. 9 his order was for feme time very 
 n.ve/1 obferved, but ft ill they wanted only c.n opportunity of 
 rifing, which an accident gave them. T'wo apprentices 
 playing in the ftreets about eleven a-clock on the May-eve, the 
 alderman of the ward came to arreft them ; but they think- 
 ing they had more privilege on that night than c.ny other, 
 2 began
 
 42 OLD BALLAD 6. 
 
 I c ? an to call cut to their fellows for ajjiftancs, and fo many 
 came running cut cf doors from the neighbourhood, that the 
 alderman was forced to fly . Encouraged by this, and Jeeing 
 thtir number i increafe as the rumour of their being up fpread, 
 thzy hfiftened to the prifons where feme had been committed 
 for abufing ftrangers, and thej'e they firji delivered. The 
 lord-mayor and Jberijfi, and Jtr Thomas Moore, 'who r:ad 
 leen their recorder, and was 'very much beloved by them, 
 could not with all their perfuajions reftrain them, and f r -,-ce 
 they had not fujficient to opfnfe them ; but furioujly 
 ovjly rufiing en to the honfe of a very rich foreigner, whom, 
 as he WAS a great trader, they particularly hated, they broke 
 open his doors, killed e--jery one they met t^ith there, and 
 rifled all the goods ; and in other places they committed di- 
 vers other outrages. At length the news of this diforder 
 reached the ears of the earls of Shrewjbury and Surrey : they 
 rofe, and taking with them all the irns-cf-conrt men, they 
 cleared the Jireets of the rioters, and took numbers of them 
 frifoners. Shortly after, the duke of Ncrfcl.k, and the earl 
 cf Surrey, with \^GQjold:ers, came into the chy, and join- 
 ing the lord-mayor and aldermen, proceeded againji the cri- 
 minals. Two hundred and feventy-eight were found guilty , 
 tut whether through the intercejjlcn of queen Catherine, cr 
 through a merciful difpofaion of king Henry, not above 
 twelve or fifteen fujfered ; Lincclne, with three or four 
 mere of the n:cfl guilty, were hanged, drawn and quar- 
 ter'd ; about ten more 'were hanged on gibbets in the ftreets, 
 And the lord-mayor, aldermen and recorder appearing on the 
 behalf of the reft at court, they received a check, as iffome 
 of the magiftracy had connived at the riot ; and the reft of 
 the criminals were ordered to appear before the king at Weft- 
 minfter in wkit? Jhirts, and halters about their necks ; and 
 vjitb thi m mixed a great number of people, 'who were not 
 Before fufpetfed, that they might be entitled to a pardon ; 
 i';r.u-b tic king having granted, he alfo ordered the gibbets 
 r-j;bich had been erefled, to be taken down, and the citizens 
 ctvT cvain reftored to fav,:n\ 
 
 PERUSE
 
 OLD BALLADS. 43 
 
 PERUSE the ftories of this land, 
 And with advifement mark the fame, 
 And you {hall juftly underftand 
 
 How ill May-day firft got the name. 
 For when king Henry th' eighth did reign, 
 
 And rul'd our famous kingdom here, 
 His royal queen he had frpm Spain, 
 With whom he liv'd full many a year. 
 
 Queen Catherine nam'd, as ftories tell, % 
 
 Sometime his elder brother's wife : 
 By which unlawful marriage fell 
 
 An endlefs trouble during life : 
 But fuch kind love he ftill conceiv'd, 
 
 Of his fair queen, and of her friends, 
 Which being by Spain and France perceiv'd, 
 
 Their journeys faft for England bends. 
 
 And with good leave were fuffered 
 
 Within our kingdom here to flay : 
 Which multitude made victuals dear, 
 
 And all things elfe from day to day : 
 for ftrangers then did fo increafe, 
 
 By reafon of king Henry's queen, 
 And privileg'd in many a place 
 
 To dwell, as was in London feen. 
 
 Poor
 
 44 O L D B A L L A D S. 
 
 Poor trade/men had fmall dealing then, 
 
 And who but Grangers bore the bell ? 
 Which was a grief to Englifhmen, 
 
 To fee them here in London dwell : 
 Wherefore (God wot) upon May-eve, 
 
 As prentices on Maying went, 
 Who made the magistrates believe, 
 
 At all to have no other intent. 
 
 But fuch a may-game it was known, 
 
 As like in London never were ; 
 For by the fame full many a one, 
 
 With lofs of life did pay full dear: 
 For thoufands came with Bilbo blade, 
 
 As with an army they could meet, 
 And fuch a bloody {laughter made 
 
 Of foreign ftrangers in the ftreet, 
 
 That all the channels ran down with blood, 
 
 In every ftreet where they remain'd ; 
 Yea, every one in danger flood, 
 
 That any of their part maintain'd j 
 The rich, the poor, the old, the young, 
 
 Beyond the feas tho' born and bred, 
 By prentices they fuffer'd wrong, 
 
 When armed thus they gather'd head, 
 
 Such
 
 OLD BALLADS. 45 
 
 Such multitudes together \vent> 
 
 No warlike troops could them withftand, 
 Nor yet by policy them prevent, 
 
 What they by force thus took in hand : 
 Till at the laft king Henry's power, 
 
 This multitude encompafs'd round, 
 Wherewith the ftrength of London's tower, 
 
 They were by force fupprefs'd and bound. 
 
 
 And hundreds hang'd by martial law, 
 
 On fign-pofts at their matters doors, 
 By which the reft were kept in awe, 
 
 And frighted from fuch loud uproars : 
 And others which the faft repented, 
 
 (Two thoufand prentices at leaft) 
 Were all unto the king prefented, 
 
 As mayor and magiltrates thought beft. 
 
 With two and two together tied, 
 
 Through Temple-bar and Strand they go, 
 To Weftminfter there to be tried, 
 
 With ropes about their necks alfo : 
 But fuch a cry in every ftreet, 
 
 Till then was never heard or known, 
 By mothers for their children fweet, 
 
 Unhappily thus overthrown. 
 
 Whofs
 
 46 O L D B A L L A D S. 
 
 Whofe bitter moans and fad laments 
 
 Poffefs'd the court with trembling fear ; 
 Whereat the queen herfelf relents, 
 
 Tho' it concern'd her country dear : 
 What if (quoth me) by Spanifli blood, 
 
 Have London's ftately flreets been wetj 
 Yet will I feek this country's good, 
 
 And pardon for thefe young men get; 
 
 Or elfe the world will fpeak of me, 
 
 And fay queen Catherine was unkind, 
 And judge me ftill the caufe to be, 
 
 Thefe young men did thefe fortunes find : 
 And fo difrob'd from rich attires, 
 
 With hairs hang'd down, fhe fadly hies, 
 And of her gracious lord requires 
 
 A boon, which hardly he denies. 
 
 The lives (quoth fhe) of all the blooms 
 
 Yet budding green, thefe youths I crave 
 O let them not have timelefs tombs, 
 
 For nature longer limits gave : 
 In faying fo, the pearled tears 
 
 Fell trickling from her princely eyes j 
 Whereat his gentle queen he chears, 
 
 And fays, Stand up, fweet lady rife. 
 
 The
 
 OLD BALLADS. 4? 
 
 The lives of them I freely give, 
 
 No means this kindnefs (hall debar, 
 Thou haft thy boon, and they may live, 
 
 To ferve me in my Bullen war. 
 No foonerwas this pardon- given, 
 
 But peals of joy rung through the hall, 
 As tho' it thunder'd down from heaven, 
 
 The queen's renown amongft them all. 
 
 For which (kind queen) with joyful heart, 
 
 She gave to them both thanks and praife, 
 And fo from them did gently part, 
 
 And liv'd beloved all her days : 
 And when king Henry ftoodin need 
 
 Of trufty foldiers at command, 
 Thefe prentices prov'd men indeed, 
 
 And fear'd no force of warlike band. 
 
 For at the fiege of Tours in France, 
 
 They fhew'd themfelves brave Engliflimen ; 
 At Bullen too they did advance, 
 
 St. George's lufty ftandard then j 
 Let Tourine, Tournay, and thofe towns 
 
 That good king Henry nobly won, 
 Tell London's prentices renowns, 
 
 And of their deeds by them there done. 
 
 For
 
 48 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 For ill May-day, and ill May-games, 
 
 Perform'd in young and tender days, 
 Can be no hindrance to their fames, 
 
 Or ftains of manhood any ways : 
 But now it is ordain'd by law, 
 
 We fee on May-day's eve at night, 
 To keep unruly youths in awe, 
 
 By London's watch in armour bright. 
 
 Still to prevent the like mifdecd, 
 
 Which once thro' headitrong young men came j 
 And that's the caufe that I do read, 
 
 May-day doth get fo ill a name. 
 
 VII. 
 
 A fong of an Englifh knight, that married the royal 
 princefs, lady Mary, filler to king Henry VIII. which 
 knight was afterward made duke of Suffolk. 
 
 Sir Charles Brandon, i> if count Lijle, the hero of the fol- 
 lowing fong, iuas, for federal good fervices done to king 
 Henry VIII. created duke of Suffolk in the j<w 1514, 
 rind it iva; thought at the timt the king conferred this honour 
 
 upon
 
 L D B A L L A D S. 49 
 
 \ipon him, be intended him afar greater, by giving him hit 
 Jtcond fifter the princ-fs Mary in marriage ; but jvjl at tbi* 
 time Lewis XII. of France Jeeking the alliance of the Englijh 
 king, a match was inade up betvjeeh him and the princefs, to 
 the great grief of the duke; ivbo, however, though he dearly 
 li>iied her, had honour enouph never to vje the leajt mean! for 
 preventing the marriage, thinkina it Jo very much to her ad- 
 vantage. The pri'nftfs*, with a noble retinue, ivas Jtnt 
 over to France') where Jhe married Lewis on the tytb of Oc- 
 tober 1514; hut that monarch did net long enjoy her, he 
 flying the Jirft of January following. His fucceffbr Francis I. 
 frcpcfd the queen Dowager's return into England, to *ubicb 
 king Hiti'y confer. ted, after having made the left conditions 
 he could for his Jijier, and taktn fecurity for the payment of 
 her dowry. This done, fame of the Englifo nobles icere ap- 
 pointed to go over into France to receive the queen, and con- 
 duel her back ; amongj} them 'were the duke of Suffolk, ivbo, 
 upon his arrival, rene-iving his fuit, and being already in 
 her good graces, found it no difficult matter to gain his point ; 
 and ~a)iftly concluding, that King Henry might not fo readily 
 confent to his marrying the do-iuager of France, as he 'would 
 have done to his marrying the. princefs his f.fter, he nuould 
 not delay his happinefs, but had the marriage privately ce- 
 lebrated before he left France. When the nevus was brought 
 to Henry, he feemed much dijfatisfied with it, and at firft 
 kept Suffolk at a diftance ; but the king cf France and others 
 interceding in his bthalf, he was very well reconciled to him, 
 and the duke had no J mall Jhare afterwards in the adrnini- 
 ftration of affairs. It is remarkable, that neither this lady 
 cr her fi/ler had any great pride or ambition in them ; for 
 although they both, by the care of their friends, had been 
 nvedded to monarch s, we find that the Meft fifttr princef* 
 Margaret, after having buried her firjl hujhai.d, 'James V. 
 tf Scotland, chafe one after nobles for 'a d-cond, and married 
 Archibald Douglafs, earl cf^ngus. 
 
 VOL. II, E
 
 50 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 Eighth Henry ruling in this land, 
 He had a fitter fair, 
 That was the widovv'd queen of France, 
 
 Enrich'd with virtues rare : 
 And being come to England's court, 
 
 She oft beheld a knight, 
 Charles Brandon nam'd, in whofe fair eyes, 
 She chiefly took delight. 
 
 And noting in her princely mind, 
 
 His gallant fweet behaviour, 
 She daily drew him by degrees, 
 
 Still more and more in favour : 
 Which he perceiving, courteous knight, 
 
 Found fitting time and place, 
 And thus in amorous fort began, 
 
 His love-fuit to her grace : 
 
 I am at love, fair queen, faid he, 
 
 Sweet let your love incline, 
 That by your grace Charles Brandon may 
 
 On earth be made divine : 
 If worthlefs I might worthy be 
 
 To have fo good a lot, 
 To pleafe your highnefs in true love, 
 
 My fancy doubteth not. 
 
 Oc
 
 OLD BALLADS. 51 
 
 Or if that gentry might convey 
 
 So great a grace to me, 
 I can maintain the fame by birth, 
 
 Being come of good degree. 
 If wealth you think be all my want> 
 
 Your highnefs hath great ftore, 
 And my fupplement mall be love, 
 
 What can you wim for more ? 
 
 It hath been known when hearty love 
 
 Did tie the true-love knot, 
 Though now if gold and filver want, 
 
 The marriage proveth not. 
 The goodly queen hereat did blufh, 
 
 But made a dumb reply; 
 Which he imagin'd what ihe meant* 
 
 And kifs'd her reverently. 
 
 Brandon (quoth me) I greater am, 
 
 Than would I were for thee, 
 But can as little mafter love, 
 
 As them of low degree : 
 My father was a king, and fo 
 
 A king my hufband was, 
 My brother is the like, and he 
 
 Will fay I do tranfgrefs. 
 
 But
 
 5? O L D B A L L A D S. 
 
 But let him fay what pleafeth him, 
 
 His liking I '11 forego, 
 And chufe a love to pleafe myfelf, 
 
 Though all the world fay no : 
 If plowmen make their marriages, 
 
 As beft contents their mind, 
 Why mould not princes of eftate 
 
 The like contentment find ? 
 
 But tell me, Brandon, am I not 
 
 More forward than befeems ? 
 Yet blame me not for love, I love 
 
 Where beft my fancy deems. 
 And long may live (quoth he) to love, 
 
 Nor longer live may I, 
 Than when I love your royal grace, 
 
 And then difgraced die. 
 
 But If I do deferve your love, 
 
 My mind defires difpatch, 
 For many are the eyes in court, 
 
 That on your beauty watch : 
 But am not I, fweet lady, now 
 
 More forward than behoves ? 
 Yet for my heart, forgive my tongue, 
 
 That fpeaks for him that loves. 
 
 The
 
 OLD BALLADS 53 
 
 The queen and this brave gentleman 
 
 Together both did wed, 
 And aftr -I'l-ght their king's good-will, 
 
 And of their wifhes fped : 
 For Brandon foon was made a duke, 
 
 And graced foin court, 
 Then who but he did flaunt 'at forth 
 
 Amongil the nobleft fort. 
 
 And fo from princely Brandon's line, 
 
 And Mary's did proceed 
 The noble race of Suffolk's houfe. 
 
 As after did fucceed : 
 From whofe high blood the -lady Jane, 
 
 Lord Guilford Dudley's wife, 
 Came by defcent, who with her lord, 
 
 in London loft her life. 
 
 TlH.
 
 54 O L D B A L L A D . S, 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The doleful death of queen Jane, wife to king Henry 
 VIII. and the manner of prince Edward's being cut 
 out of her womb. 
 
 One wculd think it almoft impojffible that there Jbould be 
 the leaji doubt amongft writers in any point fo modern as the 
 fai on which this ballad is founded, and yet if we fear ch. 
 our hiftorians, wejhallhardlyfind any of them agreeing in the 
 jiory cf queen Jane. WeJhaUnot therefore pretend to advance 
 any thing concerning the manner of her death, but Jhall quote 
 the opinions of fame of our 'writers, that every one may be at 
 liberty to judge for themfelves. 
 
 Anne ofEullen, Henry Vlllth^s fecond queen, being be- 
 headed in the tower for adultery, king Henry 'was marryed 
 the 'very next day to lady Jane ; who, on the I 2th of Qtto~ 
 ber (according to the opinion of a vajl majority) was deli- 
 vered of a fon at Hampton-court. But not with/landing this, 
 Sir John Hay ward ajjerts, that prince Edward was not born 
 until the ijth; and adds, " All reports do conjlantly run, 
 " that he was not by natural pajfage delivered into the world, 
 " but that his mother's belly 'was opened for his birth; and 
 " that Jhe died of the incijion the fourth day following." 
 E chard, in his hi/lory of England, is of a very different 
 opinion ; 'where talking of prince Edward's birth, he tells us 
 ' ' That the joy of it was much allayed by the departure of the 
 *.' admirable queen, 'who, contrary to the opinion of many 
 " iv riters, died twel-ve days after the birth, of this prince, 
 *' having been well delivered, and without any incijion, as 
 
 others
 
 LD BALLADS. 55 
 
 ** others have malicioujly reported" Lord Herbert of Cher- 
 bury, in his hijlory of Henry Fill, afferts, " That the qnsen 
 *' died two days after her delivery.'" And indstd he has the 
 authorities of Hollingjhead and Stovo to fupport the after t ion, 
 Du Chufne, a native of France, who in his hijlory of Eng- 
 land has undertaken to clear up this point , does but perplex 
 us the more: talking of thefe times, he goes on thus : " La 
 tf royne Jeanne tjloit alors enceinte & prejte a enfanter, mais 
 *' quand ce <uint au terme de V accouchement elle eut tant de 
 " tourment & de peine, qu' il luit fallut fendre le Cofte par 
 " lequel on tirafonfruit le donzieme Jour a" Qciobre u Win- 
 
 " defore- Elle mcurut dcuze jours apres etfut enterre au 
 
 " Chateau de Wmdfore" 
 
 k 
 
 WHEN as king Henry rul'd this land, 
 He had a queen I underftand ; 
 Lord Seymour's daughter fair and bright, 
 King Henry's com'fort and delight : 
 Yet death, by his remorfelefs pow'r, 
 Pid blaft the bloom ef this fweet Flow'r ; 
 O mourn, mourn, mourn, fair ladies ; 
 Jane your queen, the flower of England's dead. 
 
 His former queen being wrapt in lead, 
 This gallant dame poflefs'd his bed : 
 Where rightly from her womb did fpring 
 A joyful comfort to her king, 
 A welcome bleffing to the land, 
 Preferv'd by God's molt holy hand. 
 
 O mourn, c. 
 
 E The
 
 56 O L D B A L L A D S, 
 
 The queen in travail, pained fore 
 Full thirty woful days and more, 
 And no ways could deliver'd be, 
 As every lady wifh'd to fee : 
 Wherefore the king made greater moan, 
 Than ever yet his grace had mown. 
 
 O mourn, &c. 
 
 Then being fomething eas'd in mind. 
 His eyes a flumb'ring fleep did find ; 
 Where dreaming he had loft a rofe, 
 But which he could not well fuppofe j 
 A fhip he had, a rofe by name ; 
 Oh, no ! It was his royal Jane. 
 
 O mourn, &c. 
 
 Being thus perplex'd with grief and care, 
 A lady to him did repair. 
 And faid, O king ! mow us thy will ; 
 The queen's fweet life to fave or fpill. 
 If me cannot deliver'd be, 
 Yet fave the flow'r, tho' not the tree. 
 
 O mourn, &c. 
 
 Then down upon his tender knee, 
 For help from heaven prayed he, 
 Mean while into a fleep they caft 
 His queen, which evermore did laft : 
 And op'ningthen her tender womb, 
 Alive they took this budding bloom, 
 
 P mourn, &c
 
 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 This babe fo born much comfort brought, 
 And chear'd his father's drooping thought : 
 Prince Edward he was call'd by name, 
 Graced with virtue^ wit and fame ; 
 And when his father left this earth, 
 He rul'd this land by lawful birth. 
 
 O mourn, &c. 
 
 But mark the powerful will of heav'n j 
 We from this joy were foon bereav'n : 
 Six years he reigned in this land, 
 And then obeyed God's command, 
 And left his crown to Mary here, 
 Whofe five years reign coft England dear. 
 
 O mourn, &c. 
 
 Elizabeth reign'd next to her, 
 Fair Europe's pride, and England's ftar j 
 The world's wonder ; for fuch a queen 
 Under heaven was never feen : 
 A maid, a faint, an angel bright, 
 In whom all princes took delight. 
 
 O mourn, mourn, mourn, fair ladies ; 
 ,Elfcabeth, the flower of England's dead. 
 
 JX.
 
 58 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 IX, 
 
 A princely fong of the fix queens that' were married to 
 Henry VIII. king of England. 
 
 WHEN England's fame did ring, 
 Royally, royally, 
 Of Henry the eighth our king, 
 
 All the world over ; 
 Such deeds of majefty, 
 Won he moft worthily, 
 England to glorify, 
 
 By the hand of fair heaven. 
 
 His royal father dead, 
 
 Curioufly, curioufly, 
 Was he then wrapt in lead, 
 
 As it appeareth : 
 Such a tomb did he make, 
 For his fweet father's fake, 
 AS the whole world may fpeak 
 
 Of his gallant glory. 
 
 4 England's
 
 OLD BALLADS. 59 
 
 England's brave monument, 
 
 Sumptuoufly, fumptuoufly, 
 Kings and queens gave confent 
 
 To have it there grac'd : 
 Henry the eighth was he, 
 Builded in gallantry, 
 With golden bravery, 
 
 In his rich chapel. 
 
 And after did provide, 
 
 Carefully, carefully, 
 To chufe a princely bride, 
 
 For his land's honour : 
 His brother's widow he 
 Married moft lawfully, 
 His loving wife to be 
 
 Royal queen Catherine. 
 
 Which queen he loved dear, 
 
 Many a day, many a day, 
 Full two and twenty year, 
 
 E'er they were parted.- 
 From this renowned dame, 
 Mary his daughter came, 
 Yet did his bifhops frame 
 
 To have her divorced. 
 
 When
 
 6<s OLD BALLADS. 
 
 When as queen Catherine knew 
 
 How the king, how the king, 
 Prov'd in love moft untrue, 
 
 Thus to forfake her ; 
 Good lord ! what bitter woe, 
 Did this fair princefs mow, 
 Unkindly thus to go 
 
 From her fweet hufband. 
 
 my kind fovereign dear, 
 
 Said the queen, faid the queen, 
 Full two and twenty year 
 
 Have I been marry'd : 
 Sure it will break my heart, 
 From thee now to depart, 
 
 1 ne'er plaid wanton's part, 
 Royal king Henry. 
 
 All this availed nought, 
 Woful queen, woful queen, 
 
 A divorce being wrought, 
 She mufl forfake him : 
 
 Never more in his bed 
 
 Laid fhe her princely head : 
 
 Was e'er wife fo beftead, 
 Like to queen Catherine ? 
 
 Amongft
 
 OLD BALL ADS. 
 
 Amongft our Englifhmen, 
 
 Of renown, of renown, 
 The earl of Wiltfiiire then 
 
 Had a virtuous fair daughter : 
 A brave and princely dame, 
 Anna Bullen by name, 
 This virgin was by fume, 
 
 Made wife to king Henry. 
 
 From this fame royal queen, 
 
 Blefledly, bleffedly, 
 As it was known and feen. 
 
 Came our fweet princefs 
 England's Elizabeth, 
 Faireft queen on the earth ; 
 Happy made by her birth, 
 
 Was this brave kingdom. 
 
 When Anna Bullen's place, 
 
 Of a queen, of a queen, 
 Had been for three years (pace, 
 
 More was her forrow : - ~>_ 
 
 In the king's royal head 
 Secret difpleafure bred, 
 That coft the queen her head, 
 
 In London's ftrong tovvar. 
 
 Then
 
 62 OLD BALLADS* 
 
 Then took he to wife lady Jane, 
 
 Lovingly, lovingly, 
 That from the Seymours came. 
 
 Nobly defcended; 
 But her love bought me dear, 
 She was but queen one year; 
 In child-bed Ihe dy'd we hear, 
 
 Of royal king Edward. 
 
 England then underftand, 
 
 Famoufly, famoufly, 
 Princes three of this land. 
 
 Thus came from three queens : 
 Catherine gave Mary birth, 
 Anna Elizabeth, 
 Jane, Edward by her death ; 
 
 All crown'd in England. 
 
 After thefe married he, 
 
 All in fame, all in fame, 
 A dame of dignity, 
 
 Fair Anne of Cleve : 
 Her fbrrow foon was ieen, 
 Only fix months a queen, 
 Graces but growing green, 
 
 So quickly divorced. 
 
 Yet
 
 OLD BALLADS. 6$ 
 
 Yet liv'd fhe with grief to fee, 
 
 Woful queen, woful queen ! 
 Two more as well as fhe, 
 
 Married unto king Henry : 
 To enjoy love's delights, 
 On their fweet wedding-nights, 
 Which were her proper rites, 
 
 Mournful young princefs. 
 
 Firft a fweet gallant dame, 
 
 Nobly born, nobly born, 
 Which had unto her name 
 
 Fair Catherine Howard : 
 But e'er two years were palt, 
 Difliking grew fo faft, 
 She loft her head at laft ; 
 
 Small time of glory ! 
 
 After her, Catherine Parre, 
 
 Made he queen, made he queen, 
 Late wife to lord Latimer, 
 
 Brave Englifti baron. 
 This lady of renown, 
 Deferved not a frown, 
 Whilft Henry wore the crown 
 
 Of thrice famous England. 
 
 Six
 
 &4 OLD BALLADS, 
 
 Six royal queens you fee, 
 
 Gallant dames, gallant dames, 
 
 At command married he, 
 Like a great monarch : 
 
 Yet lives his famous name, 
 
 Without fpot or defame ; 
 
 From royal kings he came, 
 Whom all the world fear'd\ 
 
 Johnny Armftrong's laft good-night, ftiewing how John 
 Armftrong with his eight-fcore men fought a bloody 
 battle with the Scotch king, at Edenborough* 
 
 The heroe of tie following ballad's habitation, *was at 
 no great dijlance from the river Envfe ; there he had in 
 Jlrong body of men under his command, and all his neigh- 
 bours, even the neareft Englijh Jtood, in a-~we of him, and 
 paid him tribute. When James F. reigned in Scotland, 
 and Henry Vlllth. in England, the former, willing to/vf- 
 prefs all robbers, levied a fmall army , march* d out againft 
 the banditti, and pitch' 'd his tents hard by the river Eivfe. 
 At this John Ahmflrong became f'yjible of his danger, and 
 would willingly have made Ms peace. Some of the king's 
 *jjicers finding him in this difpojition, fecretly perfuaded him
 
 OLD BALLADS. r ^ 
 
 to make bis fubmij/ion ; adding, that they durft a/Jure kirn he 
 'would be kindly received. Armftrong followed their counfel, 
 and ^with Jixty horfemen unarmed, haftened to the king, but 
 imprudently forgot to provide bimfelf with pajfes , and a fafe- 
 condufl. fboje who had given him this advice, fenjible of 
 his error, lay in ambujh for , furprized and took him, with 
 his Jixty men, and carried them all to the king, pretending 
 that they had made them prifoners. Nor was he accufed of 
 robbing only, but of having alfo formed a dejign of deliver- 
 ing up that part of the country to the Englijh ; and being 
 condemned, he with fifty -four of his companions was hanged, 
 the other Jix ivere rejerved as bojlages to deter their fellows 
 from being guilty of the like crime. Our poet pojjibly thought t 
 that the gallows was too Io<w a death for bis beroe, and 
 therefore rather chofe to let him die bravely fighting. In- 
 Jtead of three, he gives him a retinue of eightfcore men, 
 and lays the fcene in Edenburg ; and theje, I think, are the 
 only material points in which he differs from hijtory. 
 
 IS there ever a man in all Scotland, 
 From the higheft eftate to the loweR degree, 
 That can fhew himfelf before our king, 
 Scotland is fo full of treachery ? 
 
 Yes there is a man in Weftmoreland, 
 
 And Johnny Armftrong they do him call, 
 
 He has no lands nor rents coming in, 
 
 Yet he keeps eightfcore men within his hall. 
 
 He has horfes and harnefs for them all, 
 
 And goodly fteeds that be milk-white, 
 With their goodly belts about their necks, 
 
 With hats and feather^ all alike. 
 
 VOL. II. F The
 
 66 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 The king he writes a loving letter, 
 
 And with his own hand fo tenderly, 
 And hath fentit unto Johnny Armftrong, 
 
 To come and fpeak with him fpeedily. 
 
 When John he look'd this letter upon, 
 
 He look'd as blith as a bird in a tree, 
 I was never before a king in my life, 
 
 My father, my grandfather, nor none of us three. 
 
 But feeing we mult go before the king,,. 
 
 Lord we will go moil gallantly, 
 Ye mall every one have a velvet coat, 
 
 Laid down with golden laces three. 
 
 And every one (hall have a fcarlet cloak.,. 
 
 Laid down with filver laces iive, 
 With your golden belts about your neaks, 
 
 With hats and feathers all alike. 
 
 But when Johnny went from Giltnock-hall, 
 
 The wind it blew hard, and full faft it did rain-;.. 
 
 Now fare thce well thou. Giltnock-hall^ 
 I fear I mall never fee thee again. 
 
 Now Johnny he is to Edenborougli gone, 
 
 With his eightfcore men fo gallantly, 
 And everyone of them on a milk-white fteed, 
 
 With their, bucklers and fwords hanging to their knee. 
 
 But
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 67 
 
 But when John came the king before, 
 With his eightfcore men fo gallant to fee, 
 
 The king he mov'd his bonnet to him, 
 
 He thought he had been a king as well as he. 
 
 O pardon, pardon, my fovereign leige, 
 
 Pardon for my eightfcore men and me ; 
 For my name it is Johnny Armftrong, 
 
 And fubjeft of your's, my liege, faid he. 
 
 Away with thee, thou falfe traytor, 
 
 No pardon will I grant to thee, 
 But to-morrow morning by eight of the clock, 
 
 I will hang up thy eightfcore men and thee. 
 
 Then Johnny look'd over his left moulder, 
 
 And to his merry men thus faid he, 
 J have a&'d grace of a gracelefs face, 
 
 No pardon there is for you and mef. 
 
 Then John pull'd out his good broad fworct, 
 
 That was made of the mettle fo free, 
 Had not the king mov'd his foot as he did, 
 
 John had taken his head from his fair body. 
 
 Come, follow me, my merry men all, 
 
 We will fcorn one foot for to fly, 
 It mall never be faid we were hang'd like dogs, 
 
 We will fight it out moft manfully. 
 
 F 2 Then
 
 t8 O L D B A L L A 1> S. 
 
 Then they fought on like champions bold, ' 
 For their hearts were flurdy, flout and free, 
 
 Till they had kill'd all the king's good guard 
 There were none left alive but one, two, or three, 
 
 But then rofe up all Edenborough, 
 
 They rofe up by thoufands three, 
 A cowardly Scot came John behind, 
 
 And run him through the fair body^ 
 
 Said John, fight on my merry men all, 
 I am a little wounded, but am not flain, 
 
 I will lay me down and bleed a-while, 
 Then I'll rife and fight again. 
 
 Then they fought on like mad men all, 
 Till many a man lay dead on the plain, 
 
 For they were refolved before they would yieldy 
 That every man- would there be flain. 
 
 So there they fought courageoufly, 
 
 'Till moft of them lay dead there and flam, 
 
 But little Mufgrave, that was his foot-page, 
 With his bonny griflel got away unta'n. 
 
 But when he came to Giltnock-hall, 
 
 The lady fpy'd him prefently, 
 What news, what news, thou little foot-page, 
 
 What news from thy mailer, and his company. 
 
 My
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 69 
 
 My news is bad, lady, he faid, 
 My matter Johnny Armftrong is (lain, 
 And all his gallant company. 
 
 Yet thou art welcome home, my bonny griffel, 
 Full oft thou haft been fed with corn and hay, 
 
 But now thou malt be fed with bread and wine, 
 And thy fides fhall be fpurr'd no more, I fay. 
 
 G then befpoke his little fon, 
 
 As he fat on his nurfe's knee, 
 If ever I live to be a man, 
 
 My father's death reveng'd fliall be.
 
 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 X. 
 
 A pleafant ballad mewing how two valiant knights, fiy 
 John Armftrong, and fir Michael Mufgrave fell in 
 love with the beautiful daughter of the lady Dacres in 
 the North ; and of the great ftrife tha't happened be- 
 tween them for her, and how they wrought the death 
 of one hundred men. 
 
 Another poet, willing to conceal the ignominious death of 
 jlrmjtrong, has in this Jong knighted him, and made bii ri- 
 i>al kill him ; at leaj} <we are inclined to believe it is the fame 
 Arn.Jlronghe is talking of, and for that reafon we hdiie in- 
 fer ted it. 
 
 AS it fell out one Whitfunday, 
 The blith time of the year, 
 When every tree was clad with green, 
 
 And pretty birds fmg clear : 
 The lady Dacres took her way, 
 Unto the church that pleafant day, 
 With her fair daughter frefh and gay, 
 
 A bright and bonny lafs. 
 Fa la tre dang de do 
 
 Trang trole le trang de dp, 
 With hey trang t;role lo lye, 
 
 She was a bonny lafs, 
 
 Si*
 
 OLD BALLADS. 71 
 
 Sir Michael Mufgravein like fort 
 
 To church repaired then, 
 And fo did Sir John Armstrong too, 
 
 With all his merry men ; 
 Two greater friends there could not be, 
 Nor braver knights for chivalry, 
 Both batchelors of high degree, 
 
 Fit for a bonny lafs. 
 
 They fat them down upon one feat, 
 
 Like loving brethren dear, 
 With hearts and minds devoutly bent, 
 
 God's fervice for to hear ; ' 
 But rifing from their prayers tho' 
 Their eyes a ranging ftrait did go, 
 Which wrought their utter overthrow, 
 
 All for one bonny lafs. 
 
 Quoth Mufgrave unto Armftrong then, 
 
 Yon fits the fweeteft dame, 
 That ever for her fair beauty 
 
 Within this country came. 
 Jnfooth, quoth Armftrong prefently, 
 Yourjudgment I muft verify, 
 There never came unto my eye, 
 
 A braver bonny lafs. 
 
 F 4 I fwear
 
 7* OLD BALLADS. 
 
 I fwear faid Mufgrave by this fword, 
 Which did my knighthood win, 
 
 To fteal away fo fweet a dame, 
 Could be no ghoftly fin. 
 
 That deed, quoth Armftrong, would be ill. 
 
 Except you had her right good will, 
 
 That your defire (he would fulfil, 
 And be thy bonny lafs. 
 
 By this the fervice quite was done, 
 
 And home the people paft ; 
 They wifh'd a blifter on his tongue, 
 
 That made thereof fuch hafte. 
 At the church door the knights did meet, 
 The lady Dacres for to greet, 
 But moft of all her daughter fweet, 
 
 That beauteous bonny lafs. 
 
 Said Armftrong to the lady fair, 
 
 We both have made a vow, 
 At dinner for to be your guefts, 
 
 If you will it allow. 
 With that befpoke the lady free, 
 Sir .knights, right welcome you fliallbe, 
 The happier men therefore are we^ 
 
 For love of this bonny lafs. 
 
 Thus
 
 OLD BALLADS. 75 
 
 Thus were the knights both prick'd in love, 
 
 Both in one moment thrall'd, 
 And both with one fair lady gay, 
 
 Fairlfabellacall'd. 
 With humble thanks they went away, 
 Like wounded harts chas'd all the day, 
 .One would not to the other fay, 
 
 They loved this bonny lafs. 
 
 Fair Ifabel on the other fide 
 
 As far in love was found, 
 So long brave Armftrong me had ey'd, 
 
 Till love her heart did wound : 
 Brave Armftrong is my joy, quoth me, 
 Would Chrift he were alone with me, 
 To talk an hour two or three 
 
 With his fair bonny lafs. 
 
 But as thefe knights together rode, 
 
 And homeward did repair, 
 Their talk and eke their countenance fhew'd, 
 
 Their hearts were clogg'd with care, 
 Fair Ifabel the one did fay, 
 Thou haft fubdu'd my heart this day. 
 Put (he's my joy, did Mufgrave fay. 
 
 My bright and bonny lafs. 
 
 With
 
 74 O L D B A L L A D S. 
 
 With that thefe friends incontinent, 
 
 Become moft deadly foes, 
 For love of beauteous Ifabel, 
 
 Great ftrife betwixt them rofe : 
 Quoth Armstrong, (he Ihall be my wife, 
 Although for her I lofe my life ; 
 And thus began a deadly ftrife, 
 
 And for one bonny lafs. 
 
 Thus two years long this grudge did grow, 
 
 Thefe gallant knights between, 
 While they a wooing both did go, 
 
 Unto this beauteous queen. 
 And (he who did their furies prove, 
 To neither would bewray her love, 
 The deadly quarrel to remove, 
 
 About this bonny lafs. 
 
 But neither for her fair intreats, 
 
 Nor yet her (harp difpute, 
 Would they appeafe their raging ire, 
 
 Nor yet give o'er their fuit. 
 The gentlemen of the North country, 
 At laft did make this good decree, 
 All for a perfect unity,. 
 
 About this bonny lafs. 
 
 The
 
 OLD BALL ADS. 75 
 
 The love-fick knights fhould be fet, 
 
 Within one hall fo wide, 
 Each of them in a gallant fort 
 
 Even at a feveral tide : 
 And 'twixt them both for certainty, 
 Fair Ifabel mould placed be, 
 Of them to take her choice full free, 
 
 Moft like a bonny lafs. 
 
 And as flie like an angel bright, 
 
 Betwixt them mildly flood, 
 She turn'd unto each feveral knight 
 
 With pale and changed* blood : 
 Now am I at liberty 
 
 To make and take my choice, quoth (he, 
 Yea, quoth the knights, we do agree, 
 
 Then chufe thou bonny lafs. 
 
 O Mufgrave, thou art all too hot 
 
 To be a lady's love, 
 Quoth Ihe, and Armftrong feems a fot, 
 
 Where love binds him to prove ; 
 Of courage great is Mufgrave ftill, 
 Andfith to chufe I have my will, 
 Sweet Armftrong (hall my joys fulfil, 
 
 And I his bonny lafs. 
 
 The
 
 76 OLD BALLADS, 
 
 The nobles and the gentles both, 
 
 That were in prefent place, 
 Rejoyced at this fweet record ; 
 
 But Mufgrave in difgrace, 
 Out of the hall did take his way, 
 And Armftrong marry'd was next day, 
 With Ifabel his lady gay, 
 
 A bright and bonny lafs. 
 
 But Mufgrave on the wedding-day, 
 
 Like to a Scotchman dight, 
 In fecret fort allured out 
 
 The bridegroom for to fight ; 
 And he that will not outbraved be, 
 Unto his challenge did agree, 
 Where he was flain moll fuddenly 
 
 For his fair bonny lafs. 
 
 The news whereof was quickly brought 
 
 Unto the lovely bride : 
 And many of young Armftrong's kin 
 
 Did after Mufgrave ride; 
 They hew'd him when they had him got. 
 As fmall as flefli into a pot, 
 Lo ! thus befel a heavy lot, 
 
 About this bonny lafs. 
 
 The
 
 OLD BALLADS* 77 
 
 The lady young, which 'did lament, 
 
 This cruel curfed ftrife, 
 For very grief dy'd that day, 
 
 A maiden and a wife. 
 An hundred men, that haplefs day, 
 Did lofe their lives in that fame fray ; 
 And 'twixt thofe names, as many fay, 
 
 Is deadly flrife ftill biding. 
 
 XI. 
 
 A lamentable ditty on the death of lord Guildford Dudley 
 and lady Jane Grey, that, for their parents ambition in 
 feeking to make thefe two young princes king and 
 queen of England, were both beheaded in the Tower 
 of London. 
 
 WHEN as king Edward left this life, 
 In young and blooming years, 
 Began fuch deadly hate and ftrife, 
 
 That filled England full of tears. 
 Ambition in thofe ancient days, 
 More than ten thoufand, thoufand, thoufand 
 Troubles did arife. 
 
 North unv
 
 78 OLD BALLAD S* 
 
 Northumberland being made & duke, 
 Ambitioufly did feek the crown, 
 
 And Suffolk for the fame did look, 
 To put queen Mary's title down ; 
 
 That was king Henry's daughter bright. 
 
 And queen of England, England, England, 
 And king Edward's heir by right. 
 
 Lord Guilford and the lady Jane 
 Were wedded by their parents wills ; 
 
 The right from Mary fo was ta'en, 
 Which drew them on to farther ills : 
 
 But mark the end of this mifdeed, 
 
 Mary was crowned, crowned, crowned. 
 And they to death decreed. 
 
 And being thus adjudg'd to die, 
 
 For thefe their parents haughty aims, 
 
 That thinking thus to mount on high, 
 Their children king and queen proclaim:- . 
 
 But in fuch aims no bleffings be, 
 
 When as ten thoufand, thoufand, thoufand, 
 Their mameful endings fee, 
 
 Sweet princes they deferv'd no blame, 
 That thus muft die for father's caufe, 
 
 And bearing of ib great a name, 
 To contradict our Englim lawa. 
 
 Let
 
 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 Let all men then conclude in this, 
 That they are hapj-efs, haplefs, haplefs, 
 Whofe parents do amiis. 
 
 Now who more great than they of late ? 
 
 Now who more wretched than they are ? 
 And who more lofty in eflate, 
 
 Thus fuddenly confum'd with care?' 
 Then princes all fet down this reft, 
 And fay the golden, golden, golden 
 
 Mean is always belt. 
 
 
 
 Prepar'd at laft drew on the day, 
 Whereon the princes both nut ft die j 
 
 Lord Guilford Dudley by the way, 
 His deareft lady did efpy, 
 
 Whilit he unto the block did go, 
 
 She in her window weeping, weeping, weeping,* 
 Did lament her woe. 
 
 Their eyes that look'd for love e'er while, 
 Now blubber'd were with pearled tears, 
 
 And every glance and lover's fmiie 
 Were turn'd to dole and deadly fears .- 
 
 Lord Guilford's life did bleeding lye,- 
 
 Expecting angels, angels, angels 
 Silver wings to mount on High.
 
 8o OLD BALLADS. 
 
 His deareft lady long did look, 
 
 When me unto the block mould go, 
 
 Where fweetly praying on her book, 
 She made no fign of outward woe ; 
 
 But wifh'd that me had angels wings, 
 
 To fee that golden, golden, golden 
 Sight of heavenly things. 
 
 And mounting on the fcaffold then, 
 Where Guilford's lifelefs body lay, 
 
 I come, quoth fhe, thou flower of men, 
 For death mail not my foul difmay : 
 
 The gates of heaven ftand open wide> 
 
 To reft for ever, ever, ever, 
 And thus thofe princes dy'd. 
 
 Their parents likewife loft their heads, 
 For climbing thus one ftep too high : 
 
 Ambitious towers have flippery leads, 
 And fearful to a wife man's eye: 
 
 For one's amifs great houfes fall 
 
 Therefore take warning, warning, warning,' 
 By this, you gallants all. 
 
 XIL
 
 OLD BALLADS. 81 
 
 XII. 
 
 The princefs Elizabeth : A ballad alluding to a ftory 
 recorded of her when ihe was prifoner at Woodftock, 
 '554- 
 
 Written by the late William Sbenjlone, Efq. 
 t 
 
 WILL you hear how once repining 
 Great Eliza captive lay ? 
 Each ambitious thought refigning, 
 Foe to riches, pomp and fway ? 
 
 While the nymphs and fwains delighted 
 
 Tript around in all their pride ; 
 Envying joys by others flighted, 
 
 Thus the royal maiden cry'd : 
 
 " Bred on plains, or born in vallies, 
 
 Who would bid thofe fcenes adieu ? 
 Stranger to the arts of malice, 
 
 Who would ever courts purfue ? 
 
 Malice never taught to treafure, 
 
 Cenfure never taught to bear : 
 Love is all the fhepherd's pleafure ; 
 
 Love is all the damfel's care. 
 
 VOL. II. G How
 
 2T2 OLD BALLADS, 
 
 How can they of humble ftation 
 Vainly blame the pow'rs above ? 
 
 Or accufe the difpenfation 
 
 Which allows them all to love ? 
 
 Love like air is widely given ; 
 
 Pow'r nor chance can thefe rcfurain ;. 
 Trueft, nobleft gifts of heaven ! 
 
 Only purefton the plain ! 
 
 ?eers can no fuch charms difcover, 
 
 All in ftars and garters dreft, 
 As, on Sundays, does the lover 
 
 With his nofegay on his bread. 
 
 Pinks and rofes in profufion, 
 
 Said to fade when Chloe's near;, 
 
 Fops may ufe the fame allufion ; 
 But the fhepherd is fincere. 
 
 Hark to yonder milk-maid finging, 
 Chearly o'er the brimming pail; 
 
 Gowflips all around her fpringing 
 Sweetly paint the golden vale.. 
 
 Never yet did courtly maiden 
 Move fo fprightly, look fo fair ; 
 
 Never breaft with jewels laden 
 Pour a fong fo void of care. 
 
 Would
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 83 
 
 Would indulgent heav'n had granted 
 
 Me feme rural damfeUs part ! 
 All the empire I had wanted 
 
 Then had been my fhepherd's her.rt. 
 
 Then, with him, o'er hills and mountains* 
 
 Free from fetters, might I rove : 
 Fearlefs tafle the cryftal fountains ; 
 
 Peaceful fleep beneath the grove. 
 
 Ruftics had been more forgiving; 
 
 Partial to my virgin bloom : 
 None had envy'd me when living ; 
 
 None had triurnph'd o'er my tomb.'* 
 
 XIII. 
 
 The lamentable complaint of queen Mary for the Uttkiftd 
 departure of king Philip, in whofe abfence me fell 
 lick and died. 
 
 MARY doth complain, 
 Ladies be you moved 
 With my lamentations, 
 
 And my bitter moans : 
 Philip king of Spain, 
 
 G * Whom
 
 84 OLD BALL AD S. 
 
 Whom in heart I loved, 
 From his royal queen 
 
 Unkindly now is gone ; 
 Upon my bed I lye, 
 Sick and like to die : 
 
 Help me ladies to lament, 
 For in heart I bear, 
 He loves a lady dear ; 
 
 Better can his love content : 
 Oh, Philip ! moft unkind, 
 Bear not fuch a mind, 
 
 To leave the daughter of a king : 
 Gentle prince of Spain, 
 Come, oh come again, 
 
 And fweet content to thee I'll bring. 
 
 For thy royal fake, 
 
 This my country's danger, 
 And my fubjefts woes, 
 
 I daily do procure : 
 My burning love to flake, 
 
 Noble princely ftranger, 
 And the fame to move, 
 
 Where it was fettled fure, 
 Bivers in this land, 
 Againft my foes did ftancr, 
 
 Pawning their lives therefore : 
 And for the fame were (lain, 
 Gentle king of Spain, 
 
 Streets ran down with, purple gore, 
 
 . 4 Forty
 
 OLDBALLADS- 85 
 
 Forty thoufand men, 
 All in armour then, 
 
 This noble kingdom did provide;: 
 To marry England's queen, 
 'Before thou fhould'ft be feen, 
 
 Or I be made thy gallant bride. 
 
 But now my great good-will., 
 
 I fee is not regarded, 
 And my favours kind, 
 
 Are here forgotten quite : ^ 
 My good is paid with ill, 
 
 And with hatred rewarded, 
 I unhappy queen, 
 
 Left here in woful plight, 
 On our Englilh fhore, 
 Never mail I more 
 
 Thy comely perfonage behold, 
 For upon the throne, 
 Gloriouflyhe mone, 
 
 In purple rob. s of gold. 
 Oh my heart is flain, 
 Sorrow, care and pain., 
 
 Dwell within my fobbing breaft : 
 Death approacheth near me, 
 Becaufe thou wilt not cheer me, 
 
 Thou gallant king of all the weft. 
 
 G 3 Thofe
 
 86 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 Thofe jewels and thofc rings, 
 
 And that golden treafure, 
 Firil to win my love, 
 
 Thou brouohteft out of Spain ; 
 Now unto me brings 
 
 No delight, no pleafure, 
 But a forrowful tear, 
 
 Which ever will remain : 
 Thy picture when I fee, 
 Much amazcth me, 
 
 Caufeth tears a-main to flow, 
 The fubftance being gone, 
 Pleafures I have none, 
 
 But lamenting fighs of woe ; 
 The chair of ftare adorn'd, 
 Seems as if it mourn'd, 
 
 Binding up mine eyes with \veepir,g, 
 And when that I am led 
 Unto my marriage-bed, 
 
 Sorrow keeps me (till from fleepiog, 
 
 Come you ladies kind, 
 
 Bring my gown of fable, 
 For I now mufl mourn, 
 
 The abfence of my lord. 
 Yea fee my love-fiok mind, 
 
 Is no longer able, 
 To endure the uirg 
 
 Of Cupid's pricking (\\ord : 
 
 My
 
 OLD BALLADS. $7 
 
 My dying heart doth reft, 
 In Philip's princely breaft, 
 
 My bofom keeps no heart at all : 
 fint ever will abide, 
 In fecret by his fide, 
 
 And follow him through bower and hall. 
 Though I live difdained, 
 Yet my love unfeigned 
 
 Shall remain both chafle and pure, 
 .And evermore mall prove 
 As conftant as the dove, 
 
 And thus fhall Mary ftill endure. 
 
 Ring out my dying knell, 
 
 Ladies fo renowned, 
 For your queen mult die, 
 
 And all her pomp forfake : 
 England now farewell, 
 
 For the fates have frowned, 
 And now ready ftand, 
 
 My breathing life to take: 
 Con fu me with fpeed to air, 
 Fading ghoft prepare 
 
 With my milk-white wings to fly : 
 Where fitting on the throne, 
 Let my love be fliown, 
 
 That for his fake is forc'd to die. 
 Re for ever blefled, 
 Tho'Jdie diftrefled, 
 
 G 4 Galknt
 
 88 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 Gallant king of high renown. 
 The queen now broken-hearted, 
 From this world 's departed, 
 
 In the heavens to wear a crown. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 The battle of Corichie on the Hill of Fair, fought Oft, 
 28, 1562. 
 
 This ballad, which is 'very antient, has been but lately 
 printed in Scotland. It is faid to have been the produflion 
 of one Forbes, afcbodmafter, at Mary Culter, upon Diejide. 
 
 MU R N ye heighlands, and murn ye leighlands, 
 I trow ye hae meikle need ; 
 For thi bonny burn o' Corichie, 
 His run this day wi' bleid. 
 
 Thi hopefu' laird o' Finliter, 
 
 Erie Huntly's gallant fon, 
 For thi love hi bare our beauteous quine 
 His gar't fair Scotland mone. 
 
 Hi
 
 OLD BALLADS. 89 
 
 Hi his braken his ward in Aberdene, 
 
 Throu dreid o' thi faufe Murry ; 
 And his gather': the gentle Gordone clan 
 
 An' his father auld Huntly. 
 
 Fain wid he takour bonny guide quine, 
 
 An' beare hir awa' wi' him ; 
 But Murry's flee wyles fpoil't a' thi fport, 
 
 An' reft him o' lyfe and lim. 
 
 Murry gar't rayfe thi tardy Merns*men, 
 
 An Angis, an' mony ane mair ; 
 Erie Morton, and the Byres lord Linfay ; 
 
 An'campit at thi hill o'Fare. 
 
 Erie Huntlie came wi' Haddo Gordone, ' 
 
 An' countit ane thufan men ; 
 But Murry had abien tvval hunder, 
 
 Wi' fax fcore horfemen and ten. 
 
 They foundit thi bougills an' the trumplts, 
 
 An' marchit on in brave array; 
 Till the fpiers an' the axis forgatherit, 
 
 An' than did begin thi fray. 
 
 Thi Gordones fae fercelie did fecht it, 
 
 Withouten terrer or dreid, 
 That mony o' Murry's men lay gafpin, 
 
 An' dyit thi grundwi' theire bleid. 
 
 The*
 
 90 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 Then faufe Murry feingit to flee them, 
 
 An' they purfuit at his backe, 
 Whan' thi haf o' thi Gordones defertit, 
 
 An' turnit wi' Murray in a crack. 
 
 Wi' hether i'thir bonnits they turnit, 
 The traiter Haddo o' their heid, 
 
 An' flaid theire briihers an' their fatheiis, 
 An' fpoilit an' left them for deid. 
 
 Than Murry cried to tak thi auld Gordone, 
 
 An' mony ane ran wi' fpeid ; 
 But Stuart o' Inchbraik had him ftickit, 
 
 An'outgufhit thi fatlurdane's bleid. 
 
 Than they teuke his twa fones quick an' hale, 
 An' bare them awa* to Abcrdene ; 
 
 But fair did our guide quine lament 
 Thi waefu' chance that they were tane. 
 
 Erie Marry loft mony a gallant float man ; 
 
 Thi hopefu' laird o' Thornitune, 
 Pittera's fons, an Egli's far fearit laird, 
 
 An' mair to mi unkend, fell doune. 
 
 Erie Huiuly mill ten (core o' his bra' men, 
 Sum o' heigh an' fum o' leigh degree, 
 
 Skeenis youngeil fon, thi pryde o' a' the clan, 
 Was ther fun' dead, he widna flee. 
 
 This
 
 OLD BALLADS. gr 
 
 This bloody fechtwis fercely faucht 
 
 Oftobri's aught an' tvvinty day, 
 Cryftis' fyfteen hundred thrifcore yelr 
 
 An' twa will mark thi deidlie fray. 
 
 But now the day maift waefu' came, 
 
 That day the quine did grite her fill, 
 For Huntly's gallant ftalwart fon, 
 
 Wis heidit on thi heidin hill. 
 
 Fyve noble Gordones wi' him hangi^were, 
 
 Upon thi famen fatal playne ; 
 Crule Murrygar't thi waefu' quine luke out/ 
 
 And fee hir lover an' liges flayne. 
 
 I wis our quine had better frinds, 
 
 I wis our countrie better peice j 
 I wis our lords wid na' difcord, 
 
 J wis our weirs at hame may celfe. 
 
 XV-
 
 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 XV. 
 
 The moft rare and excellent hiftory of the dutchefs of 
 Suffolk's calamity. 
 
 WHEN God had taken for our fin, 
 That prudent prince king Edward away, 
 Then bloody Bonner did begin 
 His raging malice to bewray : 
 All thofe that did God's word profefs, 
 He perfecuted more or lefs. 
 
 Thus whilft our lord on us did lowre, 
 
 Many in prifon he did throw, 
 Tormenting them in Lollard's tower, 
 
 Whereby they might the truth forego : 
 Then Cranmer, Ridley, and the reft, 
 Were burning in the fire, that Chrift profeft. 
 
 Smithfield was then with faggots fill'd, 
 
 And many places more befide, 
 At Coventry was Saunders kill'd, 
 
 At Worcefter eke good Hooper dy'd : 
 And to efcape this bloody day, 
 Beyond-fea many fled away, 
 
 Amongfl
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 95 
 
 Amongft the reft that fought relief, 
 
 And for their faith in danger ilood, 
 Lady Elizabeth was chief: 
 
 King Henry's daughter, of royal blood, 
 Which in the Tower prifoner did lye, 
 Looking each day when fhe mould die. 
 
 The dutchefs of Suffolk feeing this, 
 
 Whofe life likewife the tyrant fought ; 
 Who in the hopes of heavenly blifs, 
 
 Within God's word her comfort wrought ; 
 For fear of death was forc'd to fly, 
 And leave her houfe moft fecretly. 
 
 Thus for the love of God alone, 
 
 Her land and goods fhe left behind ; 
 Seeking (till for that precious ftone, 
 
 The word and truth fo rare to find : 
 She with her nurfe, hufband and child, 
 In poor array their fighs beguil'd. 
 
 Thus through London theypafled along, 
 
 Each one did take a feveral ftreet, 
 Thus all along efcaping wrong 
 
 At Billingfgate they all did meet, 
 Like people poor in Gravefend barge, 
 They Amply went with all their charge. 
 
 And
 
 94 O L D B A L L A D S. 
 
 And all along from Gravefend town, 
 With journeys fhort on foot they went, 
 
 Unto the fea-coaft came they down, 
 To pafs the feas was their intent : 
 
 And God provided fo that day, 
 
 That they took fhip and fail'd away. 
 
 And with a profperous gale of wind, 
 
 In Flanders they did arrive, 
 This was to them great eafe of mind, 
 
 And from their heart much woe did drive : 
 And fo with thanks to God on high, 
 They took their way to Germany. 
 
 Thus as they travell'd ftill difguis'd, 
 
 Upon the highway fuddenly, 
 By cruel thieves they were furpriz'd, 
 
 Affailing their fmall company : 
 And all their treafures and their ftore. 
 They took away, and beat them fore. 
 
 The nurfe, in midft of all their fright, 
 Laid down their child upon the ground, 
 
 She ran away out of their fight, 
 And never after that was found : 
 
 Then did the dutchefs make great moan, 
 
 With her good hufband all alone. 
 
 The
 
 OLD BALLADS. 95 
 
 The thieves had there their horfes kill'd, 
 
 And all their money quite had took, 
 The pretty baby, almoft fpoil'd, 
 
 Was by their nurfe alfo fbrfoek. 
 And they far from their friends did ftand, 
 And fuccourlefs in a Ihrange land. 
 
 The fky likewife began to fcowl, 
 
 Ithail'd and rain'd in piteous Jbrt, 
 The way was long and wondrous foul,* 
 
 This may I now full well report, 
 Their grief and forrow was not fmall, 
 When this unhappy chance did fall. 
 
 Sometimes the dutchefe bore the child, 
 
 As wet Is ever ihe could be, 
 And when the lady kind and mild 
 
 Was weary, then the child bore he ; 
 And thus they one another eas'd, 
 And with their fortunes fcem'd well plea^'d. 
 
 And after many a wear)' Hep, 
 
 All wet-fhod both in dirt and mire ; 
 After much grief, their hearts yet leap ; 
 
 For labour doth fome relt require: 
 A town before them they did fee, 
 But lodged there they could not be. 
 
 From
 
 g6 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 From houfe to houfe then they did go, 
 Seeking that night where they might lie ; 
 
 But want of money was their woe, 
 
 And ftill their babe with cold doth cry, 
 
 With cap and knee they court'fy make, 
 
 But none of them would pity take. 
 
 Lo, here aprincefs of great blood, 
 
 Doth pray a peafant for relief, 
 With tears bedewed as me flood, 
 
 Yet few or none regard her grief. 
 Her fpeech they could not underftand, 
 But fome gave money in her hand. 
 
 When all in vain her fpeeches fpent, 
 And that they could no houfe-room got, 
 
 Into a church-porch then they went, 
 To ftand out of the rain and wet : 
 
 Then faid the dutchefs to her dear, 
 
 O that we had fome fire here. 
 
 Then did her hulband fo provide, 
 
 That fire and coals they got with fpeed ; 
 
 She fat down by the fire-fide, 
 
 To drefs her daughter that had need ; 
 
 And whilft me drefs'd it in her lap, 
 
 Her hulband made the infant pap. 
 
 Anon
 
 OLD BALLADS. 97 
 
 Anon the fexton thither came, 
 
 Finding them there by the fire : 
 The drunken knave, all void of fhame, 
 
 To drive them out was his defire ; 
 And fpurned out the noble dame, 
 Her hufband's wrath he did inflame. 
 
 And all in fury as he flood, 
 
 He wrung the church keys out of his hand, 
 And ftruck him fo that all the blood 
 
 His head run down as he did If and, 
 Wherefore the fexton prefently 
 For aid and help aloud did cry. 
 
 Then came the officers in hafle, 
 
 And took the dutchcfs and her child. 
 And with her hufband thus they paft, 
 
 Like lambs befet with tygers wild 5 
 And to the governor were brought, 
 Who underftood them not in ought* 
 
 Then matter Bertue brave and bold, 
 
 In Latin made a gallant fpecch, , 
 
 Which all their miferies did unfold, 
 
 And their high favour did befeech ; 
 With that a doclor fitting by, 
 Did know the dutchefs prefently. 
 
 VOL. II. H And
 
 98 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 And thereupon ariiing ilrait 
 
 With words abafhed at this fight, 
 
 Unto them all that then did wait, 
 He thus broke forth in words aright : 
 
 Behold within your fight (quoth he) 
 
 A princefsof moft high degree. 
 
 With that the governor and all the reft, 
 Were much amaz'd the fame to hear, 
 
 Who welcomed this new-come gueft, 
 
 With reverence gre'at, and princely cheer : 
 
 And afterwards convey'd they were, 
 
 Unto their friend prince Caflimere. 
 
 A fon fhe had in Germany, 
 
 Peregrine Bertue call'd by name, 
 
 Sirnam'd the good lord Willoughby, 
 Of courage great and worthy fame ; 
 
 Her daughter young that with her went, 
 
 Was afterwards countefs of Kent. 
 
 For when queen Mary was deceas'd, 
 The dutchefs home return'd again, 
 
 Who was of forrow quite releas'd, 
 By queen Elizabeth's happy reign: 
 
 Whofe goodly life and piety, 
 
 We may praife continually. 
 
 XVI.
 
 OLD BALLADS, 99 
 
 xvr. 
 
 A joyful fong of the deferved praifes of good queen 
 Elizabeth, how princely (he behaved herfelf at Til- 
 bury camp in EfTex, in 1588, whqi the Spaniards 
 threatened the invafion of this kingdom. 
 
 I Sing a noble princefs, 
 England's late commanding miftrefs, 
 King Henry's daughter fair Elizabeth : 
 She was fuch a maiden queen, 
 As the like ne'er was feen, 
 
 Of any womankind upon the earth. 
 
 Her name in golden numbers, 
 May written be with wonders, 
 
 That liv'd belov'd four and forty years : 
 And had the gifts of nature all 
 That to a princefs might befall, 
 
 As by her noble virtues well appears, 
 
 Hz / With 

 
 ico OLD BALLADS. 
 
 With majefty admir'd, 
 Her fubjefts ilie reqnir'd, 
 
 That love for love might equally be fhown ; 
 Preferring more a publick peace, 
 Than any private man's increafe, 
 
 That quietly we ftill may keep our own. 
 
 When ermbaffies did come, 
 From, any prince iu Chriftendom, 
 
 Her entertainment was fo princely fweet : 
 She likewife knew what did belong, 
 To every language, fpeech and tongue, 
 
 Where grace and virtue did together meet. 
 
 No princefs more could meafure, 
 Her well befeeming pleafure, 
 
 In open court among her ladies fair ; 
 For mufick, and for portly gate, 
 The world afforded not her mate : 
 
 So excellent her carriage was and rare. 
 
 Kingly ftates opprefTed, 
 And fu-ch as were diftreffed, 
 
 With means and money daily (he reliev'd. 
 As law of nations did her bind, 
 To ftrangers (he was ever kind ; 
 
 And fuch as with calamities were griev'd. 
 
 A*<i
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 101 
 
 And when into this kingdom, 
 Bloody wars did threatning come, 
 
 Her highnefs would be ready with good will, 
 As it in eighty-eight was feen : 
 When as this thrice renowned queen, 
 
 Gave noble courage to her ibldiers r!i!L 
 
 This more than worthy woman, 
 Like to a noble Amazon, 
 
 In filver-plated armour bravely went 
 Unto her camp at Tilbury, 
 With many knights of chivalry, 
 
 Couragioufly her army to content. 
 
 But being there arrived, 
 With noble heart me ftrived, 
 
 To give them all what they defir'd to have : 
 A lovely grace of countenance, 
 Smiling with pcrfeverance, 
 
 To whom fo fweet a countenance flic gave. 
 
 Upon the drum-head fitting, 
 As it was well befitting, 
 
 For fuch a royal princefs thus to fpeak : 
 A foldier I will live and die, 
 Fear mail never make me fly, 
 
 Nor any danger leave to undertake. 
 
 H 3 With
 
 102 O L D B A L L A D S. 
 
 With that amidft the battel 
 The mufketteers did rattle 
 
 A peal of powder flaming all in fire; 
 The cannons they did loudly play, 
 To pleafc her majefty that day, 
 
 Which fhe in heart did lovingly defire. 
 
 Her highnefs thus delighted, 
 She royally requited 
 
 The noble captains and the foldiers all ; 
 For golden angels flew amain, 
 Round about the warlike train, 
 
 Each one rewarded was both great and fmall. 
 
 With that in noble manner, 
 To England's fame and honour, 
 
 The thund'ring (hot began to play again ; 
 And for this royal princefs fake, 
 Rattling made the ground to (hake, 
 
 In fpite of all their enemies of Spain. 
 
 The more to be commended, 
 She gracioufly befriended 
 
 Full many a worthy gentleman that day, 
 By knighting them in noble fort, 
 As it had been in England's court, 
 
 Such gallant graces had fhe every way. 
 
 So
 
 OLD BALLADS. 103 
 
 So freely, kind and loving, 
 She was by her approving, 
 
 To rich and poor that came unto her grace ; 
 Not any one but found her ftill 
 A friend to good, a foe to ill, 
 
 And every virtue fweetly would embrace. 
 
 But now in heaven's high palace, 
 She lives in joy and folace, 
 
 Committing all her charge unto the king ; 
 Of whofe admired majefty, 
 Ruling us fo quietly, 
 
 Rejoicingly we fubjeclis all doling. 
 
 xvir. 
 
 The life and death of the famous Thomas Stukely, an 
 
 ~ - i - 
 
 Englifh gallant, in the time of queen Elizabeth, who 
 ended his life in a battle of three kings of Barbary. 
 
 IN the weft of England, 
 Born there was I underftand, 
 A famous gallant was he in his days, 
 By birth a worthy clothier's fon, 
 Deeds of wonders hath he done, 
 
 To purchaf him a long and lafting praife. 
 
 H 4 If
 
 104 OLD B A L L A D 5. 
 
 If I would tell his ftory, 
 Pride was all his glory, 
 
 And hifty Stukely he was call'd in court, 
 He ferv'd a bifhop in the weft, 
 And did accompany the beft, 
 
 Maintaining of himfelf in gallant fort. 
 
 Being thus efteemed, 
 
 And every where well deemed, 
 
 He gain'd the favour of a London dame, 
 Daughter to an alderman, 
 Curtis flie was called then, 
 
 To whom a fuitor gallantly he came. 
 
 When (he his perfon fpyed, 
 He could not be denyed, 
 
 So brave a gentleman he was to fee ; 
 She was quickly made his wife, 
 *n weal or woe to lead her life, 
 
 Her father willing, thereto did agree. 
 
 Thus in ftate and pleafure, 
 Full many days they meafure, 
 
 'Till cruel death with his regardlefs fpight, 
 Bore old Curtis to the grave, 
 A thing that Stukely wifli'd to have, 
 
 That he might revel all in gold fo bright. 
 
 He
 
 OLD BALLADS. 105 
 
 He was no fooner tombed, 
 But Stukely he prefumed, 
 
 To fpend a hundred pounds a day in wafte. 
 The greateft gallants in the land 
 Had Stukely's purfe at their command, 
 
 Thus merrily the time away he pafs'd. 
 
 Taverns and ordinaries, 
 Where his chiefeft braveries, 
 
 Golden angels there flew up and down ; 
 Riot, were his beft delight, 
 With ftately feafling day and night, 
 
 In court and city thus he won renown. 
 
 Thus wafting lands and living, 
 By this lawlefs giving, 
 
 At length he fold the pavements of the yard, 
 Which cover'd were with blocks of tin, 
 Old Curtis left the fame to him, 
 
 Which he confumed lately as you have heard. 
 
 Whereat his wife fore grieved 
 Defiring to be relieved, 
 
 Make much of me dear hufband, me did fay, 
 J '11 make much more of thee (faid he) 
 Than any one fhall verily, 
 
 J '11 fell thy cloaths, and fo I'll go my way. 
 
 Cruelly
 
 io6 O L D B A L L A D S. 
 
 Cruelly this hard-hearted, 
 Away from her he parted, 
 
 And travell'd into Italy with fpecd ; 
 There he flourilh'd many a day, 
 In his filks and rich array, 
 
 And did the pleafures of a lady feed. 
 
 It was the lady's pleafure 
 
 To give him goods and treafure, 
 
 For to maintain him in great pomp and fame ; 
 At laft came news affiiredly 
 Of a battle fought in Barbary 
 
 And he would valiantly go fee the fame, 
 
 Many a noble gallant, 
 Sold both land and talent 
 
 To follow Stukely in his famous fight. 
 Whereas three kings in perfon would 
 Advent'roufly with courage bold, 
 
 Within this battle mew themfelves in fight. 
 
 Stakely and his followers all 
 Of the king of Portugal, 
 
 Had entertainment like to gentlemen. 
 The king affefted Stukely fo, 
 That he his fecrets all did know, 
 
 And bore his royal ftandard now and then. 
 
 Upon
 
 OLD BALLADS. i 
 
 Upon this day of honour, 
 Each man did (hew his hammer, 
 
 Morocco, and the king of Barbary, 
 Portugal, and all his train, 
 Bravely glittering on the plain, 
 
 And gave the onfet there molt valiatitly. 
 
 The canons they rebounded, 
 Thund'ring guns redounded, 
 
 Kill, kill, was all the foldiers cry ; 
 Mangled men lay on the ground, 
 And with blood the earth was drown 'd, 
 
 The fun likewife was darken'd in the fky. 
 
 Heaven was fo difpleafed, 
 And would not be appeafed, 
 
 But tokens of God's wrath did mow, 
 That he was angry at this war, 
 He fent a fearful blazing ftar, 
 
 Whereby the kings might their misfortunes know. 
 
 Bloody was the (laughter, 
 Or rather wilful murder, 
 
 Where fixfcore thoufand fighting men were flaln. 
 Three kings within this battle dy'd, 
 With forty dukes and earls befide, 
 
 The like will never more be fought again. 
 
 With
 
 io8 O L D B A L L A D S. 
 
 With woeful arms infolding, 
 Stukely ftood beholding 
 
 The bloody facrifice of fouls that day : 
 He fighing faid, I woeful wight, 
 Againft my confcience here do fight, 
 
 And brought my followers all unto decay. 
 
 Being thus molefted, 
 And with grief opprefled, 
 
 Thofe brave Italians that did fell their lands, 
 With Stukely for to travel forth, 
 And venture life for little worth, 
 
 Upon him all did lay their murd'ring hands. 
 
 Unto death thus wounded 
 His heart with forrow fwooned, 
 
 And to them thus he made his heavy moan, 
 Thus have I left my country dear, 
 To be thus vilely murder'd here, 
 
 E'en in this place, whereas I am not known. 
 
 My wife I have much wronged, 
 Of what to her belonged, 
 
 I vainly fpent in idle courfe of life ; 
 What I have had is part I fee, 
 And bringeth nought but grief to me, 
 
 Therefore grant me pardon, gentle wife. 
 
 Life
 
 OLD BALLADS. 109 
 
 Life I fee confumeth, 
 
 And death I fee prefumeth, 
 
 To change this life of mine into a new : 
 Yet this my greateft comfort brings, 
 I liv'd and dy'd in love of kings, 
 
 And fo brave Stukely bid the world adieu. 
 
 Stukely's life thus ended, 
 Was after death befriended, 
 
 And like a foldier bury'd gallantly, 
 Where now there {lands upon the grave, 
 A ftately temple builded brave, 
 
 With golden turrets piercing to the fky. 
 
 XVIII.
 
 no OLD BALLADS. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Queen Elizabeth's champion : or, a viftory obtain'd by 
 the young earl of EfTex, over the eld emperor of Ger- 
 many, by fea ; in which he took the emperor's fon, 
 and brought him prifoner to queen Elizabeth. 
 
 COME found up your trumpets and beat up your 
 drums, 
 
 And let's go to fea with a valiant good cheer, 
 In fearch of a mighty vafl navy of fhips, 
 
 The like has not been for this fifty long years, 
 Raderer two, tandaro te 
 Raderer, tadorer, tan do re. 
 
 The queen me provided a navy of fhips, 
 
 With fweet flying ftreamers fo glorious to fee, 
 
 Rich top and top-gallants, captains and lieutenants 
 Some forty, fome fifty brafs pieces and three. 
 Raderer two, &c. 
 
 They had not fail'd paft a week on the fea5, 
 Not parting a week and days two or three, 
 
 But they were aware of the proud emperor, 
 Both him and all his proud company, 
 
 Raderer two, &c. 
 
 Whea
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. ni 
 
 When he beheld our powerful fleet, 
 
 Sailing along in their glory and pride, 
 He was amaz'd at their valour and fame, 
 
 Then to his warlike commanders he cry'd, 
 Raderer, two, &c. 
 
 Thefe were the words of the old emperor, 
 Saying, Who's this that is failing to me, 
 
 If he be a king that weareth a crown, 
 Yet am I a better man than he, 
 Raderer two, &c. 
 
 It is not a king nor lord of a crown, 
 
 Which now to the feas with his navy is come. 
 
 But the young earl of Eflex, the queen's lieutenant 
 Who fears no foes in Chriftendom, 
 Raderer two, &c. 
 
 Oh ! Is that young lord then come to the feas, 
 Then let's tack about, and be fleering -away, 
 
 I have heard fo much of his father before, 
 That I will not fight with young Eflex to-day, 
 Raderer two, &c. 
 
 Oh ! then befpoke the emperor's fon, 
 As they were tacking and fleering away, 
 
 Give me, royal father, this navy of (hips, 
 And I will go fight with young Eflex to day, 
 Raderer two, &c. 
 
 Take
 
 H2 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 Take them with all my heart, loving fon, 
 Moft of them are of a capital fize, 
 
 But fhould he do as his father has done, 
 Farewel thine honour and mine likewife. 
 Raderer two, &c. 
 
 With cannons hot, and thund'ring mot, 
 Thefe two gallants fought on the main, 
 
 And as it was young Eflex's lot, 
 
 The emperor's fon by him was ta'en. 
 Raderer two, &c. 
 
 Give me my fon, the emperor cry'd, 
 Which thou this day has taken from me, 
 
 And I'll give thee three keys of gold, 
 The one fhall be of High Germany. 
 Raderer two, &c. 
 
 I care not for thy three keys of gold, 
 Which thou haft profter'd to fet him free, 
 
 But thy fon he mall to England fail, 
 And go before the queen with me, 
 Raderer two, &c. 
 
 Then have I fifty good mips of the beft, 
 As good as ever was fent to the fea, 
 
 And e'er my fon into England fhall fail, 
 They fhall go all for good company. 
 Raderer two, &c. 
 
 They
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 113 
 
 They had not fought this famous battle, 
 They had not fought it hours were three, 
 
 E'er fome loft legs, and fome loft arms, 
 And fome lay tumbling in the fea, 
 Raderer two, &c. 
 
 Eflex he got his battle likewife, 
 Tho' 'twas the fharpeft that ever was feen> 
 
 Home return'd with a wonderful prize, 
 
 And brought the emperor's fon to the queen, 
 Raderer two, &c. 
 
 Oh ! then befpoke the 'prentices all, 
 
 Living in London, both proper and tall, 
 In a kind letter fent ftrait to the queen, 
 For Eflex's fake they would fight all. 
 Raderer two ; tandaro te ; 
 Raderer, tandorer, tan do re. 
 
 VOL. II. I XIX,
 
 OLD BALLADS, 
 
 XIX. 
 
 A lamentable ditty on the death of Robert Devercux, 
 earl of Eflex, who was beheaded in the Tower of 
 London, on Afh-Wednefday, 1600-1. 
 
 SWEET England's prize is gone, 
 Welladay, welladay, 
 Which makes her figh and groan 
 
 Evermore ftill : 
 He did her fame advance, 
 In Ireland, Spain, and France, 
 And by a fad mifchance 
 Is from us ta'en. 
 
 He was a virtuous peer, ;- 
 
 Welladay, &c. 
 And was efteemed dear, 
 
 Evermore ftill. 
 He always lov'd the poor, 
 Which makes 'em figh full fore, 
 His death they did deplore 
 
 In every place.
 
 OLD BALL ADS. 115 
 
 Brave honour grac'd him ri.il!, 
 
 Gallantly, gallantly, 
 He ne'er did deed of ill, 
 
 Well it is known : 
 But envy, that foul fiend, 
 Whofe malice ne'er doth end, \ 
 
 Hath thus brought virtue's friend> 
 
 Unto this thralL 
 
 At tilt he did furpafs, 
 
 Gallantly, &c. 
 All men that i and was, 
 
 Evermore Hill. 
 One day as it was feen, 
 Jn honour of the queen, 
 Such deeds have feldom been, 
 
 As he did do. 
 
 Abroad and eke at home, 
 
 Gallantly, c. 
 For valour there was none, 
 
 Like him before : 
 For Ireland, France and Spain, 
 Still fear'd great Eflex's name, 
 But England lov'd the fame, 
 
 Jn every place. 
 
 I 2 But
 
 ii6 OLD BALLADS, 
 
 But all would not avail. 
 
 Welladay, welladay, 
 His deeds did not prevail, 
 
 More was the pity : 
 He was condemn'd to die, 
 For treafon certainly, 
 But God that fits on higlr, 
 
 Knoweth all things. 
 
 That Sunday in the morn, 
 
 Welladay, &c. 
 That he to the city came, 
 
 With all his troops ; 
 Did firft begin the ftrife, 
 And caus'd his lofs of life, 
 And others did the like, 
 
 As well as he. 
 
 Yet her princely majefty, 
 
 Gracioufly, gracioufly, 
 Hath pardon given free 
 
 To many of them ; 
 She hath releas'd them quite, 
 And given them their right : 
 They did pray day and night 
 
 God to defend her. 
 
 Shrove-
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. u 7 
 
 Shrove-tuefday in the night, 
 
 Welladay, &c. 
 With a heavy-hearted fpight, 
 
 As it is faid: 
 
 The lieutenant of the Tower, 
 Who kept him in his power, 
 At ten a-clock that hour, 
 
 To him did come. 
 
 And faid unto him there, 
 
 Mournfully, &c. 
 My lord you mufl prepare, 
 
 To die to-morrow. 
 God's will be done, quoth he, 
 Yet ftiall you ftrangely fee, 
 God itrong in me to be, 
 
 Tho' I am weak. 
 
 J pray you pray for me, 
 
 Welladay, &c. 
 That God may ftrengthen me 
 
 Againft that hour. 
 Then ftraightway he did call 
 To the guard under the wall, 
 And did intreat them all 
 
 For him to pray ; 
 
 For
 
 i,8 OLD BALL ADS, 
 
 For to-morrow is the day, 
 
 Welladay, &c. 
 That I a debt mufl pay, 
 
 Which I do owe ; 
 It is my life I mean, 
 Which I rnuft pay the queen, 
 Even fo hath juftice given, 
 
 That I muft die. 
 
 In the morning was he brought, , 
 
 Welladay, &c. 
 Where the fcaffold was fet up, 
 
 Within the Tower, 
 Many lords were prefent then, 
 With other gentlemen, 
 Which were appointed then, 
 
 To fee him die. 
 
 You noble lords, quoth he, 
 
 Welladay, &c. 
 That mud the witnefs be, 
 
 Of this my dream : 
 Know I ne'er lov'd papiflry 
 But ftill did it defy, 
 And thus doth Eflex die, 
 
 Here in this place. 
 
 I have
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 119 
 
 I have a firmer been, 
 
 Welladay, &c. 
 Yet never wrong'd my queen, 
 
 In all my life : 
 My God I did offend, 
 Which grieves me at my end : 
 May all the reft amend, 
 
 I them forgive. 
 
 To the flate I ne'er meant ill, 
 
 Welladay, &c. 
 Neither wifh'd the commons ill 
 
 In all my life : 
 But lov'd with all my heart, 
 And always took their part, 
 Whene'er they were defert, 
 
 In any place. 
 
 Then mildly did he crave, 
 
 Mournfully, &c. 
 He might the favour have, 
 
 Private to pray. 
 He then pray'd heartily, 
 And with great fervency, 
 To God that fits on high, 
 
 For to receive him. 
 
 I 4 And
 
 120 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 And then he pray'd again, 
 
 Mournfully, &c. 
 God to preferve his queen 
 
 From all her foes, 
 And fend her long to reign, 
 True juftice to maintain, 
 And not to let proud Spain 
 
 Once to offend her. 
 
 His gown he ftript off then, 
 
 Welladay, &c. 
 And put off his hat and band, 
 
 And hung them by, 
 Praying ftill continually, 
 To God that fits on high, 
 That he might patiently 
 
 There fuffer death. 
 
 My headfman that mult be, 
 
 Then faid he chear fully, 
 Let him come here to me, 
 
 That I may fee him. 
 Who kneeled to him then ; 
 Art thou, quoth he, the man 
 Who art appointed now, 
 
 My life to free ? 
 
 Ye.
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 121 
 
 Yes, my lord, he did fay, 
 
 Welladay, &c. 
 Forgive me, I you pray, 
 
 For this your death : 
 I here do thee forgive, 
 And may true juflice live, 
 No foul crimes to forgive, 
 
 Within this place : 
 
 Then he kneel'd down again, 
 
 Welladay, &c. 
 And was requir'd by fome., 
 
 There {landing by, 
 To forgive his enemies, 
 Before death clos'd his eyes, 
 Which he did in hearty-wife, 
 
 Thanking them for't. 
 
 That they would remember him, 
 
 Welladay, &c. 
 That he would forgive all them 
 
 That had him wrong'd : 
 Now I take my leave, 
 Sweet Chrift my foul receive, 
 Now when you will prepare, 
 
 J am ready. 
 
 He
 
 122 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 He laid his head on the block, 
 
 Welladay, &c. 
 But his doublet left the ftroke, 
 
 Some there did fay : 
 What muft be done, quoth he, 
 Shall be done prefently; 
 Then his doublet off put he, 
 
 And laid down again : 
 
 The head/man did his part, 
 
 Cruelly, cruelly, 
 He was not feen to ftart, 
 
 For all the blows : 
 His foul is now at reft, 
 In heaven among the blefs'd a 
 Where God fend us to reft, 
 
 When it fhall pleafe him. 
 
 XX.
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 123 
 
 XX. 
 A lamentable ballad on the earl of Effex's death. 
 
 ALL you that cry O hone, O hone, 
 Come now and fmg O hone with me, 
 For why our jewel is from us gone, 
 The valiant knight of chivalry : 
 Of rich and poor belov'd was he, 
 In time an honourable knight, 
 When by our laws condemn'd to die, 
 He lately took his laft good-Right. 
 
 Count him not like to Champion, 
 
 Thofe traiterous men of Babington, 
 Nor like the earl of Weftmoreland, 
 
 By whom a number were undone : 
 He never yet. hurt mother's fon, 
 
 His quarrel ftill maintains the right, 
 With the tears my face run down, 
 
 When I think on his laft good night. 
 
 The
 
 124 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 The Portugals can witnefs be, 
 
 His dagger at Lifbon gate he flung, 
 And like a knight of chivalry, 
 
 His chain upon the gates he hung : 
 J would to God that he would come, 
 
 To fetch them back in order right, ' 
 Which thing was by his honour done, 
 
 Yet lately took his laft good-night. 
 
 The Frenchmen they can teftify, 
 
 The town of Gourney he took in, 
 And march'dto Rome immediately, 
 
 Not caring for his foes a pin : 
 With bullets then he pierc'd his flcin, 
 
 And made them fly from his fight : 
 He there that time did credit win, 
 
 And now hath ta'en his laft good-night. 
 
 And ftately Cales can witnefs be, 
 
 E'en by his proclamation right, 
 And did command them all ftraitly, 
 
 To have a care of infants lives, 
 And that none mould hurt man or wife, 
 
 Which was againft their right : 
 Therefore they prayM for his long life, 
 
 Which lately took his lail good-night. 
 
 Wou'd
 
 OLD BALLADS. 125 
 
 Wou'd God he ne'er had Ireland known, 
 
 Nor fet one foot on Flanders ground, 
 Then might we well enjoy'd our own, 
 
 Where now our jewel will not be found, 
 Which makes our eyes ftill abound ; 
 
 Trickling with fait tears in our fight, 
 To hear his name in our ears to found, 
 
 Lord Devereux took his laft good-night, 
 
 Afh-Wednefday, that difmal day, 
 
 When he came forth his chamber-door ; 
 Upon a fcafFold there he faw 
 
 His headfman ftanding him befoie : 
 The nobles all they did deplore, 
 
 Shedding fait tears in his fight, 
 He faid farewel to rich and poor, 
 
 At his good-morrow and good-night. 
 
 My lords, faid he, you ftand but by, 
 
 To fee performance of the law; 
 'Tls I that have deferv'd to die, 
 
 And yield myfelf unto the blow ; 
 I have deferv'd to die I know, 
 
 But ne'er again ft my country's right. 
 Nor to my queen was ever foe, 
 
 Upon my death at my good-night,
 
 126 O L D B A L L A D S. 
 
 Farewell Elizabeth, my gracious queen, 
 
 God blefs thee, with thy council all ; 
 Farewel my knights of chivalry, 
 
 Farewel my foldiers flout and tall : 
 Farewel the commons great and fmall, 
 
 Into the hands of men I light, 
 My life mall make amends for all, 
 
 For Eflex bids the world good-night. 
 
 Farewel dear wife, and children three, 
 
 Farewel my kind and tender fon : 
 Comfort your felves, mourn not for me, 
 
 Altho' your fall be now begun : 
 My time is come, my glafs is run, 
 
 Comfort your felf in former light, 
 Seeing by my fall you are undone, 
 
 Your father bids the world good-night. 
 
 Derick, thou know'ft at Cales I fav'd 
 
 Thy life, loft for a rape there done, 
 As thou thy felf canft teftify, 
 
 Thine own hand three and twenty hung ; 
 But now thou fee'ft my felf is come, 
 
 By chance into thy hands I light, 
 Strike out thy blow, that I may know, 
 
 Thou Eflex lov'd at his good-night. 
 
 When
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 127 
 
 When England counted me a papift, 
 
 The works of papilts I defy, 
 I ne'er worfhipp'd faint nor angel in heav'n, 
 
 Nor the virgin Mary I; 
 But to Chrift, which for my fins did die, 
 
 Trickling with fait tears in his light, 
 Spreading my arms to God on high, 
 
 Lord Jefus receive my foul this night. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 The life and death of queen Elizabeth. 
 
 IN England reigned once a king, 
 Eighth Henry call'd by name, 
 Which made fair Anne of Bullen queen 
 
 Of England in great fame : 
 Who brought into this country joy, 
 
 And to her king delight ; 
 A daughter that in England made 
 God's gofpel mine moft bright. 
 
 At
 
 12* O L D B A L L A t> S. 
 
 At Greenwich, was the princefs born, 
 
 That gallant place in Kent, 
 Ahoufe belov'd of kings and queens 
 
 A houfe of fweet content, 
 E'en in her childhood me began, 
 
 So ftor'd with heav'nly grace, 
 That all eftates both high and low, 
 
 Her virtues did embrace. 
 
 None like Elizabeth was found, 
 
 In learning fo divine, 
 She had the perfed fltilful art, 
 
 Of all the mufes nine : 
 In Latin, Greek, and Hebrew fhe 
 
 Moft excellent was known, 
 To foreign kings ambafladors 
 
 The fame was daily mown. 
 
 Th* Italian, French, and Spanifh tongue, 
 
 She well could fpeak or read, 
 The Turkifh and Arabian fpeech 
 
 Grew perfeft at her need. 
 The mufick made her wonderful, 
 
 So cunning therein found, 
 The fame whereof about the world, 
 
 In princes ears did found ; 
 
 Yet
 
 OLD BALLADS. 129 
 
 Yet when her royal parents lives 
 
 By death were ta'en away, 
 And her dear brother Edward turn'd 
 
 To clods of earth and clay : 
 Her cruel filter Mary fought, 
 
 Her lafting grief and woe, 
 Regarding not the gifts which God 
 
 Upon her did beftow. 
 
 A bloody reign queen Mary liv'd, 
 
 A papift in belief, 
 Which was unto Elizabeth 
 
 A great heart-breaking grief. 
 A faithful proteftant (he was, 
 
 At which queen Mary fpighted, 
 And in Elizabeth's mifhaps 
 
 She daily much delighted. 
 
 Poor maiden by the bifhops wills 
 
 In prifon me was put, 
 And from her friends and comforters 
 
 In cruel manner ihut. 
 Much hoping me would turn in time, 
 
 And her true faith forfake ; 
 But firm me was, and patiently 
 
 Did all thefe troubles take. 
 
 VOL. II. K Her
 
 i3o OLD BALLADS. 
 
 Her lifter forthwith did cbmmand 
 
 Her diet to be fmall, 
 Her fervants likewife very few, 
 
 Yea almoft none at all : 
 And alfo would have ta'en her life, 
 
 But that king Philip faid, 
 O queen, thy country will report, 
 
 Thou haft the tyger play'd. 
 
 The lord thus put the king in mind 
 
 Hischofen faint to fave, 
 And alfo to queen Mary's life 
 
 A fudden ending gave : 
 And fo Elizabeth was fetch'd. 
 
 From prifon to a crown, 
 Which fhe full four and forty years 
 
 Pofiefs'd with great renown., 
 
 She popery firft of all fupprefs'd, 
 
 And in our Englifh tongue, 
 Did caufe God's Bible to be read ; 
 
 Which Heaven continue long I 
 Pure preaching likewife fhe ordain'^ 
 
 With plenty in this land, 
 And ftill againft the foes thereof 
 
 Moft zealoufly did Hand. 
 
 The
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 131 
 
 The pride of Rome this queen abates, 
 
 And fpightful Spain keeps under, 
 And Aiccour'd much Low Country ltates> 
 
 Whereat the world did wonder, 
 That fuch a worthy queen as fhe, 
 
 Should work fuch worthy things, 
 And bring more honour to this land, 
 
 Than all our former kings. 
 
 The gold dill brought from Spr.nifh mines> 
 
 In fpight of all our foes, 
 Throughout all parts of Chiiftendom, 
 
 Her brave adventure fliows ; 
 Her battels fought upon the feas, 
 
 Refounded up to heaven, 
 Which to advance her fame and praife, 
 
 Had victory itill given. 
 
 The Spanifh power i 
 
 Which thirfted for her blood, 
 Moil nobly, like an amazon, 
 
 Their purpofes withftood ; 
 And boldly in her royal camp, 
 
 In perfon fhe was ileu : 
 The like was never done, I think, 
 
 By any Engliih queen. 
 
 full
 
 132 O L D B A L L A D S. 
 
 Full many a tray tor fmce that time, 
 
 She hath confounded quite, 
 And not the bloodieft mind of all 
 
 Her courage could affright : 
 For mercy join'd with majefty 
 
 Still made her foes her friends, 
 By pardoning many which deferv'd 
 
 To have untimely ends. 
 
 Tyrone with all his Irifh rout 
 
 Of rebels in that land, 
 Though ne'er fo defperate, bold and flout, 
 
 Yet fear'd her great command. 
 She made them quake and tremble fore 
 
 But for to hear her name : 
 She planted peace in that fair land, 
 
 And did their wildnefs tame. 
 
 Tho' wars fhe kept with dangers great, 
 
 In Ireland, France, and Spain ; 
 Yet her true fubjefts ftill at home 
 
 In fafety did remain : 
 They joy'd to fee her princely face, 
 
 And would in numbers run, 
 To meet her royal majefty, 
 
 More thick than moats in fun. 
 
 But
 
 OLD BALLADS. 133 
 
 But time that brings all things to end, 
 
 A fwift foot-courfe did run : 
 And of this royal maiden queen, 
 
 A woful conqueft won. 
 Her death brought fear upon the land, 
 
 No words but tales of woe" 
 In fubjedts ears refounded then, 
 
 Where-ever men did go. 
 
 But fear exchang'd to prefent joys, 
 
 Sweet comforts loud did ring, 
 Inftead of queen, the people cry'd, 
 
 Long live our royal king : 
 Which name of king did feem moft ftrange, 
 
 And made us for to mufe ; 
 Becaufe full many a year the name 
 
 Of king we did not ufe. 
 
 Yet fuch a noble king is he, 
 
 And fo maintains our peace, 
 That we in that may daily wifh 
 
 His life may never ceafe. 
 Our hopeful and moil royal prince, 
 
 Good angels ftill defend, 
 This is my mufe's chief defire, 
 
 Her melody to end. 
 
 K 3 XXU.
 
 134 OLD BALLAD 
 
 xxir. 
 
 The honour of a London 'prentice. Being an account 
 of his matchlefs manhood and brave adventures done 
 in Turkey, and by what means he married the king's 
 daughter, &c. 
 
 The following fong relates to a nolle piece of chivalry per- 
 formed in queen Elizabeth^ days, and therefore claims a 
 place here ; though it mujl be acknowledged <we ba*ve not been 
 able to difco--ver tc/jo the hero <was, nor any account of the 
 fads on --which the ballad is founded. 
 
 OF a worthy London 'prentice, 
 My purpofe is to fpeak, 
 And tell his brave adventures 
 Done for his country's fake : 
 Seek all the world about, 
 
 And you fnall hardly find, 
 A man in valour to exceed 
 A 'prentice gallant rnind. 
 
 He
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 135 
 
 He was born in Chefliire, 
 
 The chief of men was he, 
 From thence brought up to London, 
 
 A 'prentice for to be. 
 A merchant on the bridge, 
 
 Did like his fervice fo, 
 That for three years his fa&or, 
 
 To Turkey he mould go, 
 
 And in that famous country 
 
 One year he had not been, 
 E'er he by tilt maintained 
 
 The honour of his queen, 
 Elizabeth his princefs, i 
 
 He nobly did make known, 
 To be the phoenix of the world, 
 
 And none but me alone-. 
 
 In armour richly gilded, 
 
 Well mounted on a fteed, 
 One fcore of knights moft hardy 
 
 One day he made to bleed ; 
 And brought them all unto the ground, 
 
 Who proudly did deny, 
 Elizabeth to be the pearl 
 
 Of princely majcfty. 
 
 K 4 The
 
 136 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 The king of that fame country 
 
 Thereat began to frown, 
 And wiH'd his fon, there prefent t 
 
 To pull this youngfter down ; 
 Who at his father's words 
 
 Thefe boafting fpeeches faid, 
 Thou art a. traytor Englifli boy, 
 
 And haft the traytor play'd. 
 
 I am no boy, nor traytor, 
 
 Thy fpeeches I defy, 
 For which I'll be revenged 
 
 Upon thee by and by, 
 A London 'prentice ftill 
 
 Shall prove as good a man, 
 As any of your Turkifh knights, 
 
 Do all the belt you can. 
 
 And therewithal he gave him 
 
 A box upon the ear, 
 Which broke his neck afunder, 
 
 As plainly doth appear. 
 Now know proud Turk,, quoth he, 
 
 I am no Englifli boy, 
 That can with one fmall box o'th' ear 
 
 The prince of Turks deftroy. 
 
 When
 
 OLD BALLADS. 137 
 
 When as the king perceived 
 
 His fon fo ftrangely flain, 
 His foul was fore affltdled 
 
 With more than mortal pain : 
 And in revenge thereof, 
 
 He fwore that he mould dye 
 The cruell'il death that ever man 
 
 Beheld with mortal eye. 
 
 Two lyons were prepar'd 
 
 This 'prentice to devour, 
 Near famifli'd up with hunger, 
 
 Ten days within the tower, 
 To make them far more fierce, 
 
 And eager of their prey, 
 To glut themfelves with human gore, 
 
 Upon this dreadful day. 
 
 The appointed time of torment, 
 
 At length grew nigh at hand, 
 When all the noble ladies 
 
 And barons of the land, 
 Attended on the king, 
 
 To fee this 'prentice flain, 
 And bury'd in the hungry maws 
 
 Of thofe fierce lyons twain. 
 
 Then
 
 138 O L D B A L L A D S, 
 
 Then in his fliirt of cambrick, 
 
 With filks moft richly wrought, 
 This worthy London 'prentice 
 
 Was from the prifon brought, 
 And to the lyons given 
 
 To ftanch their hunger great, 
 Which had not eat in ten days fpace 
 
 Not one fmall bit of meat. 
 
 But God that knows all fecrets, 
 
 The matter fo contriv'd, 
 That by this young man's valour 
 
 They were of life depriv'd ; 
 For being faint for food, 
 
 They fcarcely could withftand 
 The noble force, and fortitude, 
 
 And courage of his hand : 
 
 For when the hungry lyons, 
 
 Had caft on him their eyes, 
 The elements did thunder 
 
 With the echo of their cryes : 
 And running all amain 
 
 His body to devour, 
 Jnto their throats he thruft his arms, 
 
 With all his might and power : 
 
 From
 
 OLD BALLADS. * 139 
 
 From thence by manly valour, 
 
 Their hearts he tore in funder, 
 And at the king he threw them, 
 
 To all the peoples wonder. 
 This I have done, quoth he, 
 
 For lovely England's fake, 
 And for my country's maiden queen, 
 
 Much more will undertake. 
 
 But when the king perceived 
 
 His wrathful lyons hearts, 
 Afflifted whh great terror, 
 
 His rigour foon reverts, 
 And turned all his hate, 
 
 Into remorfe and love, 
 And faid it is fome angel 
 
 Sent down from heav'n above. 
 
 No, no, I am no angel, 
 
 The courteous young man faid, 
 But born in famous England, 
 
 Where God's word is obey'd ; 
 Affifted by the heavens, 
 
 Who did me thus befriend, 
 Or elfe they had moft cruelly 
 
 Brought here my life to end. 
 
 The
 
 140 O L D B A L L A D S. 
 
 The king, in heart amazed, 
 
 Lift up his eyes to heaven 
 And for his foul offences 
 
 Did crave to be forgiven ; 
 Believing that no land 
 
 Like England may be feen, 
 No people better govern'd 
 
 By virtue of a queen. 
 
 So taking up this young maa, 
 
 He pardon'd him his life, 
 And gave his daughter to him, 
 
 To be his wedded wife : 
 Where then they did remain, 
 
 And live in quiet peace, 
 In fpending of their happy days 
 
 In joy and love's increafe. 
 
 XXIII.
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 141 
 
 XXIIL 
 
 The true lovers knot unty'd : being the right path 
 whereby to advife princely virgins how to behave 
 themfelves, by the example of the renowned princefs 
 the lady Arabella, and the fecond fon of the lord Sey- 
 mour, late earl of Hertford. 
 
 AS I to Ireland did pafs, 
 I faw a fliip at anchor lay, 
 Another fhip likewife there was, 
 
 Which from fair England took her way. 
 
 This fliip that fail'd from fair England, 
 Unknown unto our gracious king, 
 
 The lord chief juftice did command, 
 That they to London mould her bring. 
 
 I then drew near, and faw more plain, 
 
 Lady Arabella in diftrefs, 
 She wrung her hands, and wept amain. 
 
 Bewailing of her heavinefs- 
 
 When
 
 142 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 When near fair London tower {became, 
 Whereas her landing place fhould be, 
 
 The king and queen with all their train, 
 Did meet this lady gallantly. 
 
 How now, Arabella, faid our good king, 
 
 Unto this lady ftrait did fay, 
 Who hath firft try'd thee to this thing, 
 
 That you from England took your way. 
 
 None but my felf, my gracious liege, 
 Thefe ten long years I 've been in love, 
 
 With the lord Seymour's fecond fon, 
 The earl of Hertford fo we prove : 
 
 Full many a hundred pound I had 
 In goods and livings in the land, 
 
 Yet I have lands us to maintain, 
 
 So much your grace doth underitand. 
 
 My lands and livings fo well known 
 
 Unto your books of majefty, 
 Amount to twelvefcore pounds a week, 
 
 Befides what I do give, quoth me. 
 
 In gallant Derbylhire likewife, 
 
 I ninefcore beadfmen maintain there, 
 
 With hats and gowns and houfe rent free, 
 And every man five marks a vear. 
 
 I neve*
 
 OLD BALLAD 5. 143 
 
 I never raifed rent, faid fhe, 
 
 Nor yet opprefs'd the tenant poor, 
 I never did take bribes for fines, 
 
 For why, I had enough before. 
 
 Whom of your nobles will do fo, 
 
 For to maintain the commonality ? 
 Such multitudes would never grow, 
 
 Nor be fuch ftore of poverty. 
 
 I would I had a milk-maid been, 
 
 Or born of fome more low degree, 
 Then I might have lov'd where I iik'd, 
 
 And no man could have hinder'd me 
 
 Or would I were fome yeoman's child, 
 
 For to receive my portion now, 
 According unto my degree, 
 
 As other virgins whom I know. 
 
 The higheft branch that foars aleft, 
 
 Needs muft befhade the myrtle-tree, 
 Needs muft the madow of them both, 
 
 Shadow the third in his degree. 
 
 But when the tree is cut and gone, 
 
 And from the ground is bore away, 
 The lowed tree that there doth ftand, 
 
 Jn time m<ly grow as high as they. 
 
 2 nee
 
 144 O L D B A L L A D S. 
 
 Once tool might have been a queen, 
 
 But that I ever did deny, 
 I knew your grace had right to th' crown, 
 
 Before Elizabeth did dye. 
 
 You of the eldeft fifter came, 
 
 I of the fecond in degree, 
 The earl of Hertford of the third, 
 
 A man of royal blood was he. 
 
 And fo good night, my fovereign liege, 
 
 Since in the tower I muft lye, 
 I hope your grace will condefcend, 
 
 That I may have my liberty. 
 
 Lady Arabella, faid the king, 
 I to your freedom would confent, 
 
 If you would turn and go to church, 
 There to receive the facrament. 
 
 And fo good night, Arabella fair, 
 
 Our king replyed to her again, 
 I will take councel of my nobility, 
 
 That you your freedom may obtain- 
 
 Once more to prifon muft I go, 
 
 Lady Arabella then did fay, 
 To leave my love breeds all my woe, 
 
 The which will bring my life's decay. 
 
 Love
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 145 
 
 Love is a knot none on unknit, 
 
 Fancy a liking of the heart, 
 Him whom I love I can't forget, 
 
 Tho' from his prefence I muft part. 
 
 The meaneft people enjoy their mates, 
 
 But I was born unhappily, 
 For being crofs'd by cruel fates, 
 
 I want both love and liberty. 
 
 But death I hope will end the ftrife, 
 
 Farewel, farewel, my love, quoth Hie, 
 Once I had thought to have been thy wife, 
 
 But now am forc'u to part with thee. 
 
 At this fad meeting fhe had caufe, 
 
 In heart and mind to grieve full fore, 
 After that time Arabella fair, 
 
 Did never fee lordSevmour more. 
 
 VOL. II. L XXIV.
 
 J4 6 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 A fervant's forrow for the lofs of his late royal miitre, 
 queen Anne, who deceas'd at Hampton court the ad 
 of May, 1618. 
 
 JN dole and deep diftrefs 
 Poor foul I fighing make my moan, 
 A doom of heavinefs 
 
 Conftrains my heavy heart to groan. 
 Then haplefs I 
 That thus mufl cry 
 A gain ft thofe fitters three, 
 Which to my pain, 
 Her life hath ta'ne 
 That late did comfort me. 
 
 In fable weeds I mourn, 
 
 My prince's abfence to condole, 
 Who never can return 
 
 Unto my fad forfaken foul. 
 Yet will I fhow 
 The grounds of woe, 
 Of fuch as mourners be, 
 For forrowing care 
 Will be my mare, 
 When none will comfort me. 
 
 i My
 
 OLD BALLADS. 147 
 
 My golden fun Is fled, 
 
 And cleareft day befet with clouds, 
 A hollow fheet of lead 
 
 My late beloved princefs fhrouds. 
 
 For whofe fweet fake 
 
 This moan I make, 
 As all the world may fee, 
 
 There is no joy, 
 
 But in annoy ; 
 Then who can comfort me ? 
 
 With grief I wafte away, 
 
 Remembring of my gracious queen ; 
 We fervants all may fay, 
 
 And witnefs well what (he hath been, 
 A princefs kind, 
 Of royal mind, 
 Adorn'd with courtefy ; 
 But now a grave 
 Her grace will have, 
 And none will comfort me. 
 
 Oh let my ireful cries 
 
 To fadnefs court and country move, 
 No mourning may fuffice 
 
 To tell my dear affedting love, 
 
 L 2 Nor
 
 148 O L D B A L L A D S. 
 
 Nor words of woe 
 
 Cannot well fliow, 
 The griefs that fettled be 
 
 Within my breaft, 
 
 So much diftreft, 
 That none can comfort me. 
 
 Yet mourners there be {lore 
 
 Of kings, of ftates, and princes high, 
 Who fadly do deplore 
 
 The want of that fweet majefty : 
 
 Who fpent her days 
 
 In virtuous ways, 
 And doing good, we fee : 
 
 Her liberal hand 
 
 Adorn'd this land, 
 Which much doth comfort me. 
 
 My fovereign lord king James, 
 
 Lamenting moans his turtle dear, 
 And princely Charles out-ltreams 
 Full many a fad and forrowful tear : 
 So as that race 
 Of royal grace 
 And blooms of majefty, 
 Conjoin in one, 
 For to make moan, 
 Yet none will comfort me. 
 
 The
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 149 
 
 The Palfgrave of th 
 
 With Denmark's moil <.rue honoured king, 
 Unto lad !oi row's fhrine, 
 
 Some facrificing tears will bring : 
 Elizabeth 
 
 Thy mother's death 
 A mournful ntvvs will be, 
 To fill thofe courts 
 With fad reports, 
 Yet no man comforts me. 
 
 Methinks the Netherlands, 
 
 And Germai* princes of her kin, 
 Pofleftwith forrow Hand, 
 
 And-fadly thus their grief begin : 
 
 Farewel, adieu, 
 
 Sweet queen fo true, 
 Thy life much mifs'd will be ; 
 
 For rich and poor 
 
 Fed on thy ftore, 
 But now none comforts me. 
 
 Where-'re her highnefs went, 
 
 Sweet bounty frankly fhe befcow'd, 
 The gifts that God her lent, 
 
 Unto the world {he nobly ihovv'd : 
 
 L 3 With
 
 150 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 With many ways 
 Advanc'd her praife, 
 So full of good was fhe ; 
 
 The which did move 
 
 All men to love, 
 But now none comforts me. 
 
 You ladies fair and fine, 
 
 Attendants on this royal queen, 
 Her grace is made divine 
 
 On this dull earth not to be feen. 
 
 Her foul is flown 
 
 Up to the throne 
 Where angels reigning be, 
 
 Whilft 1 afpire 
 
 To vain delire, 
 For now none comforts me. 
 
 Oh blefled be that mould 
 
 Which mail contain fo fweet a prize, 
 Keep fafc the fame inroll'd, 
 
 Untouch'd, unfeen by mortal eyes. 
 
 Till from this earth 
 
 A fecond birth 
 Of newnels framed be, 
 
 And till that hour 
 
 Preferve this flower, 
 Whofe goodnefs comforts me. 
 
 A queen
 
 OLD BALLADS. 151 
 
 A queen and mother dear, 
 
 A wife, a daughter to a king, 
 A fitter royal here, 
 
 And grandom as renown doth ring : 
 
 Which rich born fame 
 
 Hath grac'd her name, 
 Though all now buried be, 
 
 Yet after-days 
 
 Shall found her praife ; 
 Which greatly comforts me. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 An excellent fong made of the fucceflbrs of king Ed- 
 ward IV. 
 
 WHEN as the king of England dy'd, 
 Edward the fourth by name ; 
 He had two fons of tender years, 
 
 For to fucceed the fame : 
 Then Richard duke of Gloucefter 
 
 Defiring kingly fway, 
 Devis'd by treafon how to make 
 His nephews both away. 
 
 L 4 He
 
 152 OLD BALLADS, 
 
 He with the duke of Buckingham 
 
 Did clofely then contrive 
 How he unto the Englifh crown 
 
 Might happily atchieve : 
 Betwixt them both they laid a plot, 
 
 And both together went 
 To Stony Stratford, where they met 
 
 Our king incontinent. 
 
 This Avcet young king did entertain 
 
 His uncle lovingly, 
 Not thinking of their fecret drifi. 
 
 And wicked treachery ; 
 But when the duke of Buckingham 
 
 To fet abroach the thing, 
 Began a quarrel for the once, 
 
 With them that kepi the king. 
 
 And there they did arrcft lord Gray, 
 
 The brother to the queen, 
 Her other brother lord Rivers, 
 In durance then was feen : 
 Sir Thomas Vaughan they likevvife 
 
 Did then and there arreft; 
 Thus was the king of all hi$ friends 
 
 On fudden difpoffeft. 
 
 The
 
 OLD BALLADS. 153 
 
 The king doth for his uncles plead, 
 
 And would their fureties be : 
 But both thefe dukes would in no cafe 
 
 To his requeft agree. 
 In brief thcfe noblemen were fent 
 
 To Pomfret caille foon, 
 Where fecretly and fuddenly 
 
 They there to death were doom. 
 
 Then forth they brought the king alone, 
 
 To London with great fpeed, 
 Ufing perfuafions in fuch fort, 
 
 Not to miilike their deed : 
 But when to London he was come, 
 
 For him they had prepar'd 
 The bilhop's palace there to hold, 
 
 But fafely under guard. 
 
 And then duke Richard takes on him 
 
 The keeping of the king, 
 Naming himfelf lord protestor, 
 
 His -purpofe about to bring : 
 Devifing how to get in hold 
 
 The other brother too, 
 The which the cardinal undertook 
 
 Full cunningly to do. 
 
 The
 
 154 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 The cardinal then all in hafte 
 
 Unto the queen did come, 
 Uiing perfuafions in fuch fort, 
 
 He got the other fon : 
 And then they both incontinent 
 
 Unto the Tower were fent, 
 After which time they ne'er fame forth, 
 
 For death did them prevent. 
 
 Duke Richard having found the means 
 
 To work theie princes death, 
 Did caufe James Tirril's hired men 
 
 Full foon to flop their breath : 
 Miles Forreft and Janaes Dighton bofh, 
 
 Thefe wicked cruel men, 
 Were made the inftruments of blood, 
 
 To work the murther then. 
 
 Thefe princes lying in their bed, 
 
 Being fweetly arm in arm, 
 Not thinking of this vile intent, 
 
 Or meaning any harm : 
 Thefe villians in their feathered-beds 
 
 Did wrap them up in hafte, 
 And with the cloaths did fmother them, 
 
 Till life and breath was paft. 
 
 But
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 15$ 
 
 But when they were fb murthercd, 
 
 Where laid no man did know : 
 But mark the judgment of the Lord 
 
 Did fharp revenge foon mow. 
 Betwixt the dukes within Ihort fpace, 
 
 Such difcord there was bred, 
 That Buckingham to pleafe the king, 
 
 Was forc'd to lofe his head. 
 
 Then Richard in his kingly feat, 
 
 No reft nor eafe could find, 
 The murther of his nephews did 
 
 So fore torment his mind ; 
 He never could take quiet reft, 
 
 His life he ftill did fear j 
 His hand upon his dagger was, 
 
 And none might come him near* 
 
 At length the earl of Richmond came 
 
 With fuch a puiflant hand, 
 That this ufurping king was forc'd 
 
 In his defence to ftand : 
 And meeting him in Bofvvorth field, 
 
 They fought^with heart full fain, 
 But God (for fhedding princes blood) 
 
 Caus'd Richard to be flain. 
 
 Then
 
 156 O L D B A L L A D S. 
 
 Then being dead upon a horfe, 
 
 Naked as he was born, 
 His flefh fore cut and mangled, 
 
 His hair all rent and torn. 
 And then earl Richmond worthily, 
 
 For thi his deed of fame, 
 Of England he was crowned king, 
 
 Henry the feventh by name. 
 
 From whofe moft royal loins did fpring 
 
 That famous king of might, 
 Henry the eighth, whofe worthy deeds 
 
 Our chronicles recite : 
 Who dying left his land and crown 
 
 To Edward his fweet fon : 
 TVhofc gracious reign all England ru'd, 
 
 His time fo foon was run. 
 
 His fitter Mary did fucceed, 
 
 Next princefs in this land, 
 But in her time blind ignorance 
 
 Againft God's truth did ftand : 
 Which caufed many a martyr's blood 
 
 Be faed in rueful cafe ; 
 But God did England's woes regard, 
 
 And turn'd thofe florms to grace. 
 
 At
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 157 
 
 At length the other fitter came, 
 
 Elizabeth, late queen ; 
 And (he reliev'd her fubjefts hearts 
 
 From grief and forrow clean : 
 She fpent her days in peace and joy, 
 
 And dy'd God's fervant true, 
 And now enjoys a place in heaven, 
 
 Amongft the bleffed crew. 
 
 Next her fucceeding mighty James, 
 
 Likewife of Henry's race, 
 His majefly with royal right, 
 
 Deferves this worthy place ; 
 Whofe progeny God long preferve, 
 
 This kingdom for to fway, 
 And fend all fubjefts loyal hearts, 
 
 Their fovereign to obey. 
 
 XXVf
 
 j S 8 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 On the Sea Fight off Cape la Hogue in the year 1692. 
 
 The engagement 'which makes the fubjetl of this very popu- 
 lar Ballad, is very accurately defcribed in the Memoirs of 
 Great Britain and Ireland, by Sir John Dahymple. See 
 /. 205. 
 
 THURSDAY in the morn the ides of May, 
 Recorded for ever the famous ninety two ; 
 Brave RufTel did difcern by dawn of day, 
 
 The lofty fails of France advancing now: 
 All hands aloft, aloft, let Englifh valour fhine, 
 Let fly a culverin, the fignal for the line, 
 Let every hand fupply his gun, 
 
 Follow me, and you'll fee, 
 That the battle will be foon begun. 
 
 Tourville on the main triumphant rowl'd, 
 
 To meet the gallant Rufiel in combate on the deep ; 
 He led the noble train of heroes bold, 
 
 To fink the Englifh admiral at his feet: 
 Now every valiant mind to victory doth afpire, 
 The bloody fight 's begun, the fea itfelf on fire ; 
 
 And mighty Fate Hood looking on, 
 Whilft a flood all of blood, 
 
 Fill'd the fcup'r-holes of the Royal Sun. 
 
 Sulphur,
 
 OLD BALLADS. 159 
 
 Sulphur, fmoke and fire, difturb'd the air, 
 
 With thunder and wonder affright the Gallick fhore; 
 Their regulated bands flood trembling near, 
 
 To fee the lofty ftreamers now no more; 
 At fix o'clock the red, the fmiling viclors led, 
 To give a fecond blow, the fatal overthrow ; 
 
 Now death and horror equal reign, 
 Now they cry, run or die, 
 
 Britifh colours rid the vanquifh'd main. 
 
 See they fly amaz'd through rocks and fands, 
 
 One danger they grafp at to fhun the greater fate 5 
 In vain they cry for aid to weeping lands, 
 
 The nymphs and fea-gods mourn their lofteftate : 
 For evermore adieu thou royal dazling Sun, 
 From thy untimely end thy matter's fate begtia v 
 
 Enough thou mighty king of war, 
 Now we fing blefs the king, 
 
 Let us drink to every Englifh tar, 
 
 xxvir.
 
 160 O L D B A L L" A D S. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Admiral Vernon's anfwer to Admiral Hofier's Ghoft. 
 Written in 1740. By John Price, a land-waiter in 
 the port of Poole. 
 
 In Dr. Percy's Rcliques of Ancient Poetry, 'vol. z. /. 376, 
 is inf&rted an admirable ballad, intituled, Holler's Ghoft, an 
 Addrefs to Admiral VernOn in Porto-Bello harbour ; tie 
 production of Mr. Glover, author of Leonidas. " In April 
 1726, admiral Hojier <was fent <i<;ith a jtrong fleet into 
 the Spanijb Weft Indies, to block up the galleons in the 
 SpaniJJj ports, but nvas restrained by his orders from 
 obeying the dictates of his courage, tie continued cruiz* 
 ing in thefe feas , ivken feeing great numbers of his offi- 
 cers and men falling Jacrijices to an unhealthy climate, and 
 bimjelf made the Jport of the enemy, is j aid to have dif,d 
 of a broken heart." 1 he ballad concludes, 
 
 ec O'er thefe nuavesfor ever mourning, 
 " Shall <we ream dipriiicd of rejl ? 
 " If to Britain's Jhcres returning^ 
 ' ' You neglecl my fad requeft. 
 " After this proud foe Julduing, 
 " When your patriot friends you fee ; 
 " Think on vengeance for my ruin, 
 " And 'for England Jham'd in me ." 
 
 HOSIER !
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 161 
 
 HOSIER ! with indignant forrow, 
 I have heard thy mournful tale ; 
 And, if heav'n permit, to-morrow 
 Hence our warlike fleet mall fail. 
 O'er thefe hoitile waves, wide roaming* 
 
 We will urge our bold defign, 
 With the blood of thoufands foaming} 
 For our country's wrongs and thine. 
 
 On that day, when each brave fellow, 
 
 Who now triumphs here with me, 
 Storm'd and plunder'd Porto-Bello, 
 
 All my thoughts were full of thee. 
 Thy difaft'rous fate alarm'd me; 
 
 Fierce thy image glar'd on high, 
 And with gen'rous ardour warm'd me, 
 
 To revenge thy fall, or die. 
 
 From their lofty mips, defcending, 
 
 Thro' the flood, in firm array, 
 To the deftin'd city bending, 
 
 My lov'd failors work'd their way. 
 Strait the foe, with horror trembling, 
 
 Quits in halte his batter'd walls ; 
 And in accents, undiflembling, 
 
 As he flies, for mercy calls. 
 
 VOL. II. M Car-
 
 162 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 Carthagena, tow'ring wonder I 
 
 At the daring deed difmay'd, 
 Shall e'er-long by Britain's thunder, 
 
 Smoaking in the dufl be laid. 
 Thou, and thefe pale fpeftres fweeping, 
 
 Reftlefs, o'er this watry round, 
 Whofe wan cheeks are ftain'd with weeping, 
 
 Pleas 'd fhall Men to the found. 
 
 Still rememb'ring thy fad ftory, 
 
 To thy injur'd ghoft I fwear, 
 By my hopes of future glory, 
 
 War (hall be my conftant care : 
 And 1 ne'er will ceafe purfuing, 
 
 Spain's proud fons from fea to fea, 
 With juft vengeance for thy ruin, 
 
 And for England fham'd in thee. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 A fong, by Paul Whkehead, Efq, * 
 
 tfhe following ballad 'was fung by Mr. Beard at the 
 ^Theatre Royal in Co*vent Garden, in December, 1759, in 
 the character of a recruiting ferjeant. It may be conjidered 
 as a poetical regifter of Britijb JucceJ/es in that war 
 
 tf When Britain fought , and triumph 1 d o 1 er her foe, 
 11 Where ever winds could waft t or waters flow."
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 163 
 
 IN flory we 're told 
 How our monarchs of old 
 O'er France fpread their royal domain $ 
 But no annals can fliovv 
 Their pride la.'d fo low, 
 As when brave George the Second did reign* 
 
 Of Roman and Greek 
 
 Let fame no more fpeak 
 How their arms the old world did fubdue j 
 
 Thro' the nations around 
 
 Let our trumpets now found 
 How Britons have conquer'd the new. 
 
 Eaft, weft, north, and fouth, 
 
 Our cannons' loud mouth 
 Shall the right of our monarch maintain : 
 
 On America's ftrand 
 
 Amherft limits the land, 
 Bofcawen gives law on the main. 
 
 M 2 Each
 
 1 64 O L D B A L L A D S. 
 
 Each port and each town 
 
 We Hill make our own, 
 Cape Breton, Crown Point, Niagar, 
 
 Guadaloupe, Senegal, 
 
 Quebec's mighty fall 
 Shall prove we 've no eqaal in war. 
 
 Though Conflans did boaft 
 
 He'd conquer our coaft, 
 Our thunder foon made monlieur mute j 
 
 Brave Hawke wkig'd his way, 
 
 Then pounc'd on his prey, 
 And gave him an Englifh falutev 
 
 At Minden, you know, 
 
 How we conquer'd the foe, 
 While homeward their army now fteals, 
 
 Though, they cry'd, Britilh bands 
 
 Are too hard for our hands, 
 Begar we can beat them in heels. 
 
 While our heroes from home 
 
 For laurels now roam, 
 Should the flat-bottom boats but appear, 
 
 Our militia (hall mew 
 
 No wooden flioe foe 
 Can with freemen in battle compare, 
 
 OHT
 
 OLD BALLADS. 165 
 
 Our fortunes and lives, 
 
 Our children and wives, 
 To defend is the time now or never ; 
 
 Then let each voluntier 
 
 To the drum-head repair, 
 King George and Old England for even 
 
 XXIX, 
 
 The complaint and lamentation of Miftrefle Arden of Fe- 
 veriham in Kent, who for the loue of one Mofbie, 
 hired certaine ruffians and villaines moft cruelly to 
 murder her hufband ; with the fatall end of her and 
 her afibciats. 
 
 This ballad is reprinted from an old Hack letter copy. The 
 tvent upon which it is founded was a real fal which hap- 
 pened in the reign of Henry VIII, Intheyear 1599, a play 
 nvas 'written on the JubjecJ, which was reprinted in 1630, 
 and fence in 1730, with a preface wherein the fublijher sf- 
 fers fome reajons to induce us to ajcribe it to bhakefpeare. 
 A few years fence, George Lillo, the author of George Barn- 
 well and other dramatic pieces, made Jo me alterations in it , 
 and it ivas performed a fengle night at Drury Lane, ivith a 
 frologue and epilogue, written, as <we ha*ve been informed, 
 by Dr. John Hoadley. For an account of the circumjiances 
 of the murder which occafeoned both the play and ballad, fee 
 Hollingjhead, and Jacob's Hijiory of Feverjkam. 
 
 M 3 AH
 
 166 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 AH me, vile wretch, that euer I was borne, 
 Making my felfe unto the world a fcorne ; 
 And to my friends and kindred all a fliame, 
 Blotting their blood by my unhappy name. 
 
 Unto a gentleman of wealth and fame, 
 (Onemafter Arden, he wascall'd by name) 
 I wedded was with ioy and great content, 
 Liuing atFeucrfham in famous Kent. 
 
 In loue weliu'd, and great tranquillity, 
 
 Until I came in Mofbie's company, 
 
 Whofe fugred tongue, good fhape, and louely looke, 
 
 Soone won my heart, and Arden's loue forfooke. 
 
 And lining thus in foule adultery, 
 Bred in my hufband caufe of iealoufie, 
 And left the world our aftions fhould bewray, 
 Wee did confent to take his life away. 
 
 To London faire my hufband was to ride, 
 But ere he went I poyfon did prouide, 
 Got of a painter which I promifed 
 That Mofbie's filter Sufan he Ihould wed. 
 
 Into his broth I then did put the fame, 
 He lik't it not when to the board it came, 
 Saying, There's fomething in it is not found, 
 At which inrag'd, I flung it on the ground. 
 
 Yet
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 167 
 
 Yet ere lie went, his man I did coniure, 
 Ere they came home, to make his mafter fure, 
 And murder him, and for his faith and paine, 
 Sufan, and ftore of gold that he fhould gaine. 
 
 Yet I mifdoubting Michael's conftancy, 
 Knowing a neighbour that was dwelling by, 
 Which to my hufband bore no great good will, 
 Sought to incenfe him his deare blood to fpill. 
 
 His name was Greene ; O mafter Greene (quoth I) 
 My hufband to you hath done iniury, 
 For which I forry am with all my heart, 
 And how he vvrongeth me I will impart. 
 
 He keepes abroad moll wicked company, 
 With whores and queanes, and bad fociety : 
 When he comes home, he beats me fides and head, 
 That I do wifh that one of us were dead. 
 
 And now to London he is rid to roare, 
 I would that I might never fee him more : 
 Greene then incenft, did vow to be my friend, 
 And of his life he foon would make an end. 
 
 O mafter Greene, faid I, the danger's great, 
 You muft be circumfpeft to doe this feat j 
 To ad the deed your felfe there is no need, 
 But hire fome villaines, they will doe the deed. 
 
 M4 Tea
 
 1 68 O L D B A L L A D S. 
 
 Ten pounds Ilegiue them to attempt this thing, 
 And twenty more when cercaine newes they bring, 
 That he is dead, befides He be your friend, 
 In honeft courtefie till life doth end. 
 
 Greene vow'd to doe it; then away he went, 
 
 And met two villaines that did ufe in Kent, 
 
 To rob and murder upon Shooter's hill, 
 
 The one call'd Shakebag, t'other nam'd Black Will. 
 
 Two fuch like villaines hell did never hatch, 
 For twenty angels they made vp the match, 
 And forty more when they had done the deed, 
 Which made them fweare, they'd do it with al fpeed. 
 
 Then up to London prefently they hye. 
 Where mailer Arden in Paul's church they fpy, 
 And waiting for his coming forth that night, 
 By a flrange chance of him they then loft fight. 
 
 For where thefe villaines flood and made their flop, 
 A prentice he was (hutting vp his (hop, 
 The window falling light on Black Will's head, 
 And broke it foundly, that apace it bled. 
 
 Where flraight he made a brabble and a coyle, 
 And my fv/eet Arden he paft by the while ; 
 They miffing him, another plot did lay, 
 And meeting Michael, thus to him they fay; 
 
 Thou
 
 O L D B A L L A D 1 169 
 
 Thou knowfl that we muftpacke thy mailer hence, 
 Therefore confent and further our pretence, 
 At night when as your matter goes to bed, 
 Leaueope the doores, he fhall be munhered. 
 
 And fo he did, yet Arden could not fleepe, 
 Strange dreames and vilions in his fenfes creepe, 
 He dreamt the doores were ope, and villaines came, 
 To murder him, and 'twas the very fame. 
 
 The SECOND PART. 
 
 HE rofe andfhut the doore, his man heblames, 
 Which cunningly he itrait this anfwer frames, 
 I was fo fleepy that I did forget, 
 To locke the doores, I pray you pardon it. 
 
 Next day thefe ruffians met this man againe, 
 Who the whole ftory to them did explaine, 
 My matter will in towne no longer ftay, 
 To morrow you may meetc him on the way. 
 
 Next day his bufmefle being finifhed, 
 
 He did take horfe, and homeward then he rid, 
 
 And as he rid, it was his hap as then, 
 
 To ouertake lord Cheiney and his men. 
 
 With
 
 i 7 o 'OLD BALLADS. 
 
 With, falutations they each other greet, 
 I am full glad your honour for to meet, 
 Ardendid fry ; then did the lord reply, 
 Sir, I am glad of your good company. 
 
 And being that we homeward are to ride, 
 I haue a Ante that muft not be deride, 
 That at my houfe youle fup and lodge alfo, 
 To Feuerfliam this night you muft not goe. 
 
 Then Arden anfvvered with this courteous fpeech, 
 Your honour's pardon now I doe befeech, 
 I made a vov/e, if God did giue me life, 
 To fup and.lodgewith Alice my louing wife. 
 
 Well, (aid my lord, your oath hath got the day, 
 To morrow come and dine with me, I pray, 
 Jle wait upon your honour then (faid he) 
 And fafe he went atnongft this company. 
 
 On Raymon Downe, as they did pafie this way, 
 Black Will and Shakebag they in ambufh lay, 
 But durft not touch him, caufeof the great traine, 
 That my lord had : thus were they croft againe. 
 
 With horrid oaths thefe ruffians gan to fweare, 
 They ftampe and curft, and tore their locks of liaire, 
 Saying, fome angel furely him did keepe, 
 Vet vow'd tomurthcr him ere they did fleepe. 
 
 Now
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 171 
 
 Now all this while my hufband was away, 
 Mofby and I did reuel night and day ; 
 And Sufan, which my waiting-maiden was, 
 My loues owne fifter, knew how all did pafle. 
 
 But when I faw my Arden was not dead, 
 I vvelcom'd him, but with a heavy head : 
 To bed he went, and flept fecure from harmes, 
 But I did wifli my MoJby in my armes. 
 
 Yet ere he flept, he told me he muft goa 
 
 To dinner to my lord's, hee'd haue it fo ; 
 
 And that fame night Black Will did fend me word, 
 
 What lucke bad fortune did to them afford. 
 
 I fent him word, that he next day would dine 
 At the lord Cheinies, aed would rife betime, 
 And on the way their purpofe might fulfill, 
 Well lie reward you, when that you him kill. 
 
 Next morne betimes, before the breake of day, 
 To take him napping then they took their way ; 
 But fuch a mift and fog there did arife, 
 They could not fee although they had foure eyes. 
 
 Thus Arden fcap'd thefe villaines where they lay, 
 And yet they heard his horfe goe by that way, 
 I thinke (faid Will) fome fpirit is his friend, 
 Come life or death, I vow to fee his end. 
 
 Then
 
 r 7 2 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 Then to my houfe they ftraitdid take their way, 
 Telling me ho\v tliev miiTed of their preyj 
 Then prefently we did together gree, 
 At night at home that he fhould murdered be. 
 
 Mofby and I, and all, our plot thus lay, 
 
 That he at tables fliould with Arden play, 
 
 Black Will and Sakebag they themfelves fhould hide. 
 
 Until that Mofby he a watch-word cride. 
 
 The word was this whereon we did agree, 
 Now (mafter Arden) I haue taken ye : 
 Woe to that word, and woe unto us all, 
 Which bred confufion and our fudden fall. 
 
 When he came home, moft welcome him I made, 
 And ludas like, I kid whom 1 betraide, 
 Mofby and he together went to play, 
 For I on purpofe did the tables lay. 
 
 And as they plaid the word was flraightwny fpoke, 
 Blacke Will and Sakebag out the corner broke, 
 And with a towell backwards pul'd him downe, 
 Which made me think they now my ioyes did crowne. 
 
 With fwords and knives they flabb'd him to the heart, 
 Molby and I did likewife aft our part, 
 And then his body Itraight we did conuey 
 Behind the abbey in the field he lay. 
 
 And
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 173 
 
 And then by juftice we were ftraight condemn'd, 
 Each of us came vnto a fhamelefi'e end, 
 For God our fecret dealings foone did fpy, 
 And brought to light our lliamefull villainy. 
 
 Thus have you heard of Arden's tragedy, 
 It refts to fhow you how the reft did die : 
 His wife at Canterbury Ihe was burnt, 
 And all her fleih and bones to alhes tura'd. 
 
 Mofby and his fair fifter they were brought 
 To London for the trefpaile they had wrought, 
 In Smithfield on a gibbet they did die, 
 A lull reward for all their villainie. 
 
 Michael and Brad maw, which a goldfmith was, 
 That knew of letters which from them didpafle, 
 At Feuerfliam were hanged both in chaines, 
 And well rewarded for their faithfull paines. 
 
 The painter fled none knowes how he did fpeed, 
 Shakebag in Southwark he to death did bleed, 
 For as he thought to fcape and run away, 
 He fuddenly was murdered in a fray. 
 
 In Kent at Ofbridge Greene did fufFer death, 
 Hang'd on a gibbet he did lofe his breath : 
 Blacke Will at Flushing on a ftage did burne, 
 Thus each one came unto his end by turne. 
 
 And
 
 174 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 And thus my ftory I conclude and end, 
 Praying the Lord that he his grace will fend 
 Upon us all, and keep us all from ill. 
 Amen fay all, if 't be thy blefled will. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 The lamentable fong of the lord Wigmore, governotir 
 of Warwick-cafde, and the fair maid of Dunfmore. 
 
 IN Warwickfhire there {lands a down, 
 And Dunfmore-heath it hath to name, 
 Adjoining to a country town, 
 
 Made famous by a maiden's name : 
 
 Fair Ifabel me named was, 
 
 A mepherd's daughter, as fome fay ; 
 To Wigmore's ears her fame did pafs, 
 
 As he in Warwick-caftle lay. 
 
 Poor love-fick lord immediately 
 
 Upon her fame fet his delight ; 
 And thought much pleafure fure did lye 
 
 Poflefling of fo fair a wight. 
 
 There-
 
 OLD BALLADS. 175 
 
 Therefore to Dunfmore did prepair, 
 
 To recreate his iickly mind ; 
 Where in a Cummer's evening fair, 
 
 His chance Was Ifabel to find. 
 
 She fat amidft a mer.dow green, 
 
 Molt richly fpread with fmelling flowers, 
 
 And by a river me was feen 
 
 To fpend away fome evening hours. 
 
 There laid this maiden all alone, 
 
 Wafhing her feet in fecret wife, 
 Which virgin fair to look upon 
 
 Did much delight his loving eyes. 
 
 She thinking not to be efpy'd, , 
 
 Had laid from her her country tire ; 
 The trefles of her hrur unty'd, 
 
 Hung glittering like the golden wire. 
 
 And as the flakes of winter fnow, 
 
 That lye unr.ielted on the plains, 
 So white her body was in mow ; 
 
 Like iilver fprings did run her veins. 
 
 He, ravifnt with this pleafant fight, 
 
 Stood as a man amazed ftill ; 
 Suffering his eyes to take delight, 
 
 That never thought they had their fill. 
 
 She
 
 176 O L D B A L L A D S. 
 
 She blinded their affections fo, 
 
 That reafon's rules \vere led away ; 
 
 And love the coals of luft did blow, 
 Which to a fire flamed high. 
 
 And though he knew the fin was great, 
 
 , It burned fo within his breaf;, 
 With fuch a vehement fcorching heat, 
 That none but fhe could lend him reft. 
 
 Lord Wigmore being thus drown 'd in luft, 
 
 By liking of this dainty dame ; 
 He call'd a fervant of great truft, 
 
 Inquiring ftraight what was her name. 
 
 She is, quoth he, no married wife, 
 But a (hepherd's daughter as you fee, 
 
 And with her father leads her life, 
 Whofe dwellings by thefe paftures be ; 
 
 Her name is Ifabel the fair, 
 
 Then ftay, quoth he, and fpeak no more, 
 But to my caftle ftraight her bear, 
 
 Her fight hath wounded me full fore. 
 
 Thus to lord Wigmore (he was brought, 
 Who with delight his fancies fed, 
 
 And through his fuit fuch means he wrought, 
 That he entic'd her to his bed. 
 
 This
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 177 
 
 This being done, incontinent 
 
 She did return from whence me came, 
 And every day (he did invent 
 
 To cover her received ihame. 
 
 But e'er three months were fully part, 
 
 Her crime committed plain appears ; 
 Unto lord Wigmore then in hafte 
 
 She long complain'd with weeping tears* 
 
 Lord Wigmore, thus I havedefiPd 
 
 And fpotted my pure virgin's bed ; 
 Behold I am conceiv'dwith child, 
 
 To which vile folly you me led. 
 
 For now this deed that I have wrought 
 
 Throughout the country well is known. 
 And to my woful parents brought, 
 
 Who now for me do make great moan. 
 
 How mail I look them in the face, 
 
 When they my mamelefs felf mall fee 
 O curfed Eve, I feel thy cafe, 
 
 When thou hadft tafted of the tree, 
 
 Thou hidft thyfelf, and fo mult I, 
 
 But God thy trefpafs quickly found; 
 No dark may hide me from God's eye, 
 
 But leave my fhame ftill to abound. 
 
 VOL. II. N Wide
 
 1-3 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 Wide open are mine eyes to look 
 
 Upon my fad and heavy fin : 
 And quite unclafped is the book, 
 
 Where my accounts are written in. 
 
 This fin of mine deferveth death, 
 But judge lord Wigmore I am me, 
 
 For I have trod a ftrumpet's path, 
 And for the fame I needs muft die. 
 
 Befpotted with reproachful fliame 
 
 To ages following {hall I be, 
 And in records be writ my blame ; 
 
 Lord Wigrr.ore this is long of thee. 
 
 Lord Wigmore, proftrate at thy feet, 
 1 crave my juft deferved doom, 
 
 That death may cut off from the root 
 This body, bloilbm, branch and bloom. 
 
 Let modefly, accurfe this crime, 
 Let love and law, and nature fpeak, 
 
 Was ever any wretch yet feen 
 
 That in one inftant all did break ? 
 
 Then Wigmore juftice on me (hew, 
 
 For thus confenting to the aft, 
 Give me my death, for that is due 
 
 To fuch as fin in fuch a faft. 
 
 O that
 
 OLD BALLADS. 179 
 
 O that the womb had been my grave^ 
 
 Or I had perifh'd in my birth, 
 O that fame day may darknefs have, 
 
 Wherein I firft drew vital breath. 
 
 Let God regard it not at all, 
 
 Let not the fun upon it mine, 
 Let mifty darknefs on it fall, 
 
 For to make known this fin of mine. 
 
 The night wherein I was conceiv'd, 
 
 Let be accurft with mournful cries, 
 Let twinkling ftars from flcy bereav'd, 
 
 And clouds of darknefs thereon rife. 
 
 Becaufe they (hut not up their powers, 
 
 That gave the paflage to my life. 
 Come forrow, finifh up my hours, 
 
 And let my time here end with grief. 
 
 And having made this woful moan, 
 
 A knife fhe fnatched from her fide ; 
 Lucretia's part was rightly fliown, 
 
 For with the fame fair Jfabel dy'd. 
 
 Whereat lord Wigmore grieved fore, 
 
 A heart repenting his amifs, 
 And after would attempt no more 
 
 To crop the flower of maidens blifs ; 
 
 N 2 But
 
 i-ge OLD BALLADS. 
 
 But lived long in woful wife, 
 
 Till death did finifh up his days, 
 
 And now in Ifabel's grave he lyes, 
 
 Till judgement comes them both to raife. 
 
 XXXI. 
 HENGIST AND MEY: 
 
 Written by William Julius Mickle, author of <S".V 
 Marty n, an excellent imitation of Spencer, a tranjlation of 
 the Lujiad of Camoens, and federal other pieces ; the merit 
 f 'which are too well known to require any eulogium. 
 
 IN ancient days, when Arthur reign'd, 
 Sir Elmer had no peer ! 
 And no young knight in all the land 
 The ladies lov'd fo dear. 
 
 His filter Mey, the faireft maid 
 
 Of all the virgin train, 
 Won every heart at Arthur's court, 
 
 But all their love was vain. 
 
 In vain they lov'd, in vain they vow'd, 
 
 Her heart they could not move : 
 Yet at the evening hour of prayer 
 
 Her mind was loft in love. 
 
 The
 
 OLD BALLADS. i8.r 
 
 The abbefs faw, the abbefs knew, 
 
 And urg'd her to explain ; 
 O name the gentle youth to me, 
 
 And his confent I'll gain. 
 
 Long urg'd, long tir'd, fair Mey reply'd, 
 
 His name how can I fay ? 
 An angel from the fields above 
 
 Has rapt my heart away. 
 
 But once, alas, and never more, 
 
 His lovely form I fpied, 
 One evening by the founding more, 
 
 All by the greenwood fide : 
 
 His eyes to mine the love confeft, 
 
 That glow'd with mildeft grace : 
 His courtly mein and purple veft 
 
 Befpoke his princely race. 
 
 But when he heard my brother's horn 
 
 Faft to his mips he fled : 
 Yet while I fleep his graceful form 
 
 Still hovers .round ray bed. 
 
 Sometimes all clad in armour bright, 
 
 He makes a warlike lance ; 
 And now in courtly garments dight t 
 
 He leads the fprightly dance. 
 
 N 3 WU
 
 182 OLD BALLADS, 
 
 His hair is black as raven's wing, 
 
 His flcin as Chriftmas fnow, 
 His cheeks outvie the blufh of morn, 
 
 His lips like rofe-buds glow. 
 
 His limbs, his arms, his ftature, fhap'd 
 
 By nature's fineft hand ; 
 His fparkling eyes declare him born 
 
 To love and to command. 
 
 The live-long year fair Mey bemoan'd 
 
 Her hopelefs pining love : 
 But when the balmy fpring return'd, 
 
 And fu miner cloath'd the grove ; 
 
 All round by pleafant Humber fide 
 
 The Saxon banners flew, 
 And to fir Elmer's caftle gates 
 
 The fpear-men came in view. 
 
 Fair blufh'd the morn when Mey look'd o'er 
 
 The caftle-wall fo fheen ; 
 And, lo, the warlike Saxon youth 
 
 Were fporting on the green. 
 
 There Hengift, Ofl-a's eldeft fon, 
 
 Lean'd on his burnim'd lance, 
 And all the armed youth around 
 
 Qbey'd his manly glance. 
 
 His
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 183 
 
 Ills locks as black as raven's wing 
 
 Adown his (boulders flow'd, 
 His cheeks outvied the bli'Oi of morn, 
 
 His lips like rofe-buds glow'd, 
 
 And foon the lovely form of Mey 
 
 Has caught his piercing eyes : 
 He gives the fign, the bands retire, 
 
 While big with love he fighs, 
 
 Oh thou, for whom I dar'd the feas, 
 
 And come with peace or war ; 
 Oh, by that crofs that veils thy breaft, 
 
 Relieve thy lover's care ! 
 
 For thee I'll quit my fathers throne, 
 
 With thee the wilds explore ; 
 Or with thee {hare the Britifh crown, 
 
 With thee the crofs adore. 
 
 Beneath the timorous virgin blufli, 
 
 With love's foft warmth (he glows : 
 So bluming thro' the dews of morn 
 
 Appears the opening rofe. 
 
 'Twas now the hour of morning prayer, 
 
 When men their fins bewail, 
 And Elmer heard king Arthur's horn 
 
 Shrill founding thro' the dale. 
 
 N 4. The
 
 184 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 The pearly tears from Mey's bright eyes 
 
 Like April dew-drops fell, 
 When with a parting dear embrace 
 
 Her brother bade farewell. 
 
 The crofs with fparkling diamonds bright 
 
 That veil'd her fnowy breaft, 
 With prayers to heaven, her lily hands 
 
 Have fixt on Elmer's veft. 
 
 Now, with five hundred bowmen true, 
 
 He's march'd acrofs the plain, 
 Till with his gallant yeoman drie 
 
 He join'd king Arthur's train. 
 
 Full forty thoufand Saxon fpears 
 
 Came glittering down the hill, 
 And with their fhouts and clang of arms 
 
 The diitant valleys fill. 
 
 Old Offa, dreft in Odin's garb, 
 
 Aflum'd the hoary god ; 
 And Hengift, like the warlike Thor, 
 
 Before the horfemen rode. 
 
 With dreadful rage the combat burns, 
 
 The captains fhout amain ; 
 And Elmer's tall victorious fpear 
 
 Far glances o'er the plain. 
 
 To
 
 OLD BALLAD 'S. 185 
 
 To flop its courfe young Hengiil flew 
 
 Like lightning o'er the field ; 
 And foon his eyes the well-known crofs 
 
 On Elmer's veft beheld. 
 
 The flighted lover fwell'd his breaft, 
 
 His eyes (hot living fire, 
 And all his martial heat before 
 
 To this was mild defire. 
 
 On his imagin'd rival's front 
 
 With whirlwind fpeed he preft, 
 And glancing to the fun, his fword 
 
 Refounds on Elmer's creft. 
 
 The foe gave way, the princely youth 
 
 With heedlefs rage purfu'd, 
 Till trembling in his cloven helm 
 
 Sir Elmer's javelin ftood. 
 
 He bow'd his head, flow dropt his {pear, 
 
 The reins flipt through his hand, 
 And, ftain'd with blood, his {lately corfe 
 
 Lay breathlefs on the ftrand. 
 
 O bear me off, fir Elmer cried, 
 
 Before my painful fight 
 The combat fwims yet Hengift's veft 
 
 I claim as victor's right. 
 
 Brave
 
 i86 O L D B A L L A D S, 
 
 Brax-e HengifPs fall the Saxons fa\v, 
 
 And all in terror fled. 
 The bowmen to the caftle gates 
 
 The bold fir Elmer led. 
 
 Oh wafli my wound*, my filler dear, 
 
 O pull this Saxon dart, 
 That whizzing from young Hengift's arm 
 
 Has- almoft pierc'd my hear?. 
 
 Yet in my hall his veft mail hang, 
 
 And Britons yet unborn 
 Shall with the trophies of to-day 
 
 Their folemn feails adon>. 
 
 All-trembling Mey beheld the vdtj 
 
 Oh, Merlin, loud me cried, 
 Thy words are true ray flaughter'd love 
 
 Shall have a breathlefs bride 1 
 
 Oh, Elmer, Elmer, boaft no more 
 
 That low my Hengift lies ! 
 O, Hengift, cmel was thine arm ; 
 
 My brother bleeds and. dies I 
 
 She fpake the rofes left her cheek, 
 
 And life's warm fpirits fled : 
 So nipt by winter's lingering blafts, 
 
 The fnow-drop bows the head. 
 
 Yet
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 187 
 
 Yet parting life one ftruggle gave, 
 
 She lifts her languid eyes ; 
 Return, my Hengift, oh return, 
 
 My flaughter'd love !" {he cries. 
 
 Oh ftill he lives he fmilcs again, 
 
 With all his grace he moves : 
 I come I come, where bow nor fpear 
 
 Shall more difturb our loves. 
 
 She fpake flic died. The Saxon dart 
 
 Was drawn from Elmer's fide ; 
 And thrice he call'd his fifter Mey, 
 
 And thrice he groan'd, and di'd. 
 
 Where in the dale a mofs-grown crofs 
 
 O'erfhades an aged thorn, 
 Sir Elmer's and young Hengift's corfe 
 
 Were by the fpearmen borne, 
 
 And there all clad in robes of white, 
 
 With many a figh and tear, 
 The village maids to Hengift's grave 
 
 Did Mey's fair body bear. 
 
 And there at dawn and fall of day, 
 
 All from the neighbouring groves, 
 The turtles wail in widow'd notes, 
 
 And fing their haplefs loves. 
 
 XXXII.
 
 jS8 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 XXXII. 
 Sir JAMES the ROSS, 
 
 Is reprinted from a copy lately publijbed in Scotland, ami 
 declared to have been written many years ago. 
 
 OF all the Scottifh northern chiefs, 
 Of his high warlike name, 
 The braveft was Sir James the Rofs, 
 A knight of meikle fame. 
 
 His growth was as the tufted fir 
 
 That crowns the mountain's brow, 
 And waving o'er his moulders broad 
 
 His locks of yellow flew. 
 
 The chieftain of the brave clan Rofs, 
 
 A firm undaunted bandj 
 Five hundred warriors drew the fword 
 
 Beneath his high command. 
 
 In bloody fight thrice had he flood 
 
 Againft the Englifh keen, 
 'Ere two-and-twenty op'ning fprings 
 . This blooming youth had feen. 
 
 The
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 189 
 
 The fair Matilda dear he lov'd, 
 
 A maid of beauty rair, 
 Even Marg'ret on the Scottiih throne 
 
 Was never half fo fair. 
 
 Lang had he woo'd, lang (he refus'd 
 
 With fceming fcorn and pride ; 
 Yet aft her eyes con fefs'd the love 
 
 Her fearful words deny'd. 
 
 At laft {he blefs'd his well try'd faith, 
 
 Allow'd his tender claim j 
 She vow'd to him her virgin heart, 
 
 And own'd an equal flame. 
 
 Her father, Buchan's cruel lord, 
 
 Their paffion difapprov'd, 
 And bade her wed fir John the Graham, 
 
 And leave the youth fhe lov'd. 
 
 Ae night they met as they were wont, 
 
 Deep in a fhady wood, 
 Where on the bank befide the burn, 
 
 A blooming faugh-tree flood. 
 
 Conceal'd among the underwood 
 
 The crafty Donald lay, 
 The brother of fir John the Graham, 
 
 To hear what they would fay. 
 
 z When
 
 i 9 o O L D BALLADS. 
 
 When thus the maid began : My fire 
 
 Your paflion difapproves, 
 And bids me wed fir John the Graham, 
 
 So here mull end our loves ! 
 
 My father's will muft be obey'd, 
 Nought boots me to withfland ; 
 
 Some fairer maid in beauty's bloom 
 Shall blefs thee with her hand. 
 
 Matilda foon fliall.be forgot, 
 
 And from thy mind defac'd ; 
 But may that happinefs be thine 
 
 Which I can never tafte. 
 
 What do I hear ? Is this thy vow ? 
 
 Sir James the Rofs reply'd, 
 And will Matilda wed the Graham, 
 
 Tho" fworn ;o be my bride ? 
 
 His fword lhall fooner pierce my heart 
 
 Than reave me of thy charms I 
 Then clafp'd her to his beating breaft, 
 
 I-' a ft lock'd within her arms. 
 
 1 fpake to try thy love, fhe faid, 
 
 I '11 ne'er wed man but thee ; 
 The grave fhall be my bridal bed, 
 
 'Ere Graham my hufband be. 
 
 Take
 
 OLD BALLADS. igr 
 
 Take then, dear youth, this faithful kifs 
 
 In witnefs of my troth, 
 And every plague become my lot, 
 
 That day I break iny oath. 
 
 They parted thus : the fun was fet, 
 
 Up haily Donald fiie?,* 
 And turn thee, turn thee, beardlefs youth, 
 
 He loud infulting cries. 
 
 Soon turn'd about the fearlefs chief, 
 
 And fbon his fword he drew, 
 For Donald's blade before his breail 
 
 Had pierc'd his tartans through* 
 
 This for my brother's flighted love, 
 
 His wrongs fit on my arm : 
 Three paces back the youth redr'd, 
 
 And fav'd hinifelf frae harm. 
 
 Returning fvvift, his hand he rear'd 
 
 Frae Donald's head above, 
 And thro' the brains and crafhing bones 
 
 His fharp edg'd weapon drove. 
 
 He ftagg'ring reel'd, then tumbled down, 
 
 A lump of breathlefs clay; 
 So fall my foes ! quoth valiant Rofs, 
 
 And flately ilrode away. 
 
 Thro'
 
 iQ2 OLD BALLADS, 
 
 Thro' the green wood he quickly hy'd, 
 
 Unto lord Buchan's hall, 
 And at Matilda's window flood, 
 
 And thus began to call : 
 
 Art thou afleep, Matilda dear ! 
 
 Awake, my love, awake ; 
 Thy lucklefs lover calls on thee, 
 
 A long farewel to take. 
 
 For I have flain fierce Donald Graham, 
 
 His blood is on my fword ; 
 And diftant are my faithful men, 
 
 Nor can affift their lord. 
 
 To Skye I '11 now direft my way, 
 
 Where my two brothers bide, 
 And raife the valiant of the ifles 
 
 To combat on my fide. 
 
 O, do not fo ! the maid replies, 
 
 With me till morning flay, 
 For dark and dreary is the night, 
 
 And dangerous is the way : 
 
 All night I '11 watch you in the park, 
 
 My faithful page I '11 fend, 
 To run and raife the Rofs's clan 
 
 Their mailer to defend. 
 
 Beneath
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 193 
 
 iBeneath a bufh he laid him down, 
 
 And wrapt him in his plaid, 
 While trembling for her lover's fate, 
 
 At diftance flood the maid. 
 
 Swift ran the page o'er hill and dale, 
 
 Till in a lowly glen 
 He met the furious fir John Graham, 
 
 With twenty of his men. 
 
 Where go'ft thou, little page ? he faid ; 
 
 So late who did thee fend F 
 J go to raife the Rofs's clan 
 
 Their matter to defend, 
 
 For he has flain fierce Donald Graham, 
 
 His blood is on his fword, 
 And far, far diftant are his men, 
 
 That mould affift their lord. 
 
 And has he flain my brother dear ? 
 
 The furious Graham replies, 
 Difhonour blaft my name ! but be 
 
 By me 'ere morning dies. 
 
 Tell me, where is fir James the Rofs , ? 
 
 I will thee well reward ; 
 He fleeps within lord Buchan's park ; 
 
 Matilda is his guard. 
 
 II. t> They
 
 x 9 4 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 They fpurr'd their fleeds in furious mood, 
 
 And fcour'd along the lea, 
 They reach'd lord Buchan's lofty tow'rs 
 
 By dawning of the day. 
 
 Matilda flood without the gate, 
 To whom thus Graham did fay ; 
 
 Saw ye Sir James the Rofs laft night, 
 Or did he pafs this way ? 
 
 Laft day at noon, Matilda faid, 
 
 Sir James the Rofs pafs'd by, 
 He furious prick'd his fweaty fteed, 
 
 And onward fail did hy. 
 
 By this he is at Edinburgh crofs, 
 
 If horfe and man hold good 
 Your page then ly'd, who faid he was 
 
 Now fleeping in the wood. 
 
 She wrung her hands and tore her hair, 
 Brave Rofs ! thou art betray 'd, 
 
 And ruin'd by thofe very means 
 From whence I hop'd thine aid. 
 
 By this the valiant, knight awak'd, 
 
 The virgin's fhriek he heard ; 
 And up he rofe, and drew his fword, 
 
 When the fierce band appeared. 
 
 Your
 
 OLD. BALLADS. 195 
 
 Vour fword laft night my brother flew, 
 
 His blood yet dims its mine, 
 But 'ere the fetting of the fun 
 
 Your blood mall reek on mine. 
 
 You word it well, the chief returned t 
 
 But deeds approve the man; 
 Set by your men, and hand to hand 
 
 We'll try what valour can. 
 
 Oft boafting hides a coward's hearty 
 
 My weighty fword you fear, 
 Which fhone in front of Flodden fieldj 
 
 When you kept in the rear. 
 
 With dauntlefs ftep he forward flrode, 
 
 And dar'd him to the fight ; 
 But Graham gave back, and fear'd hi* arm> 
 
 For well he knew its might, 
 
 Four of his men, the braveft four, 
 
 Sunk down beneath his fword; 
 But ftillhe fcorn'd the poor revenge, 
 
 And fought their haughty lord. 
 
 Behind him bafely came the Graham, 
 
 And pierc'd him in the fide, 
 Out fpouting came the purple tide, 
 
 And all his tartans dy'd. 
 
 O a But
 
 196 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 But yet his fword quat not the grip, 
 
 Nor dropt he to the ground, 
 Till thro' his en'my's heart his fteel ' 
 
 Had forc'd a mortal wound. 
 
 Graham like a tree with wind overthrown , 
 
 Fell breathlefs on the clay, 
 And down befide him funk the Rofs, 
 
 And faint and dying lay. 
 
 The fad Matilda faw him fall, 
 
 fpare his life ! Ihe cried, 
 
 Lord Buchan's daughter begs his life, 
 Let her not be deny'd. 
 
 Her well known voice the kero heard. 
 
 He rais'd his half-clos'd eyes, 
 And fix'd them on the weeping maid. 
 
 And weakly thus replies: 
 
 In vain Matilda begs the life 
 
 By death's arreft deny'd ; 
 My race is ran ! Adieu my love! 
 
 Then clos'd his eyes and dy'd. 
 
 The fword yet warm, from his left fide 
 
 With frantic hand me drew ; 
 I come, Sir James the Rofs, {he .cried, 
 
 1 come to follow you. 
 
 She
 
 OLD BALLADS. 197 
 
 ghc lean'd the hilt againfi the ground, 
 
 And bar'd her fnowy breaft, 
 Then fell upon her lover's face, 
 
 And funk to endlefs reft. 
 
 xxxin. 
 
 CO L M A. 
 
 f" 'his poem fxes ffie antiquity of a cuftorn, iuJjith is toell 
 known to have prevailed afterwards., in the nsrth of Scot- 
 land, and in Ireland. The bards, at an annual feaft, pro- 
 wided by king cr chief, repeated their poems ; andfuch of 
 them as nvere thought by him 'worthy of being preferred) 
 were carefully taught to their children, in order to ba<ve 
 them transmitted to pofterity. It was one of thofe occajions 
 that afforded the fubjeft cf the prefent poem to QJfian. It is 
 called in the original, the Song of Selma, 'which titlf it 
 thought proper to adopt in the tranjlation. 
 
 '/ | MS night : and on the hill of ftorms 
 
 A Alone doth Colma ftray ; 
 While round her fhriek fantaftic forma 
 
 Of ghofts that hate the day. 
 
 O'er rocks the torrent roars amain, 
 
 The whirlwind's voice is high : 
 To fave her from the wind and rain, 
 
 No friendly flielter nigh ! 
 
 O 3
 
 198 O L D B A L L A D S, 
 
 Rife, moon ! kind ftars ! appear a while; 
 
 And guide me to the place, 
 Where refts my love, o'ercome with toil^ 
 
 And wearied with the chace. 
 
 Some light ! direct me, helplefs maid ! 
 
 Where, fitting on the ground, 
 His bow unltrung is near him laid, 
 
 His panting dogs around. 
 
 Elfe by the rock, the ftream befide, 
 
 I here muft fit me down ; 
 While howls the wind, and roars the tide, 
 
 My lover's call to drown. 
 
 Ah ! why, my Salgar ! this delay, 
 
 Where ftray thy ling'ring feet ? 
 Didilthou not promife in the day 
 
 Thy love at night to meet ? 
 
 Here is the rock, and here the tree, 
 
 Thine own appointed /pot; 
 Thy promife canftthou break with me? 
 
 And is my love forgot ? 
 
 For thee I'd dare my brother's pride ; 
 
 My father's houfe would fly, 
 For thee forfake my mother's fide ; 
 
 With thee to live and die.
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 199 
 
 Be hufh'd, ye winds ! how loud ye brawl I 
 
 Stream ! ftand a moment ftill ; 
 Perhaps my love may hear me call, 
 
 Upon the neighbouring hill. 
 
 Ho ! Salgar ! Salgar ! mend thy pace ; 
 
 To Colma hafte away. 
 'Tis I, and this th' appointed place : 
 
 Ah ! wherefore this delay ? 
 
 Kind moon ! thou giv'ft a friendly light ; 
 
 And lo ! the glafly ftream, 
 And the grey rocks, through dufky night, 
 
 Refleft thy filver beam. 
 
 Yet I defcry not Salgar's form ; 
 
 No dogs before him run. 
 Shall I not perilh by the ftorm, 
 
 Before to-morrow's fun ? 
 
 But what behold I, on the heath? 
 
 My love ! my brother ! laid 
 D fpeak, my friends ! nor hold your breath, 
 
 T> affright a trembling maid. 
 
 They anfwer not they fleep they 're dead- 
 Alas ! the horrid fight 
 
 Jlere lie their angry fwords, ftill red, 
 And bleeding from the fight. 
 
 O 4. Ah!
 
 230 O L D B A L L A D S. 
 
 Ah! wherefore lies, by Salgar flain, 
 
 My brother bleeding here ? 
 Why Salgar murder'd on the plain, 
 
 By one to me fo near ? 
 
 Friends of my choice ! how lov'd were both! 
 
 Who now your fame (hall raife? 
 Who fmg my lover's plighted troth ; 
 
 My brother's fongof praife ? 
 
 Of thoufands lovely, Salgar's face 
 
 Was lovelieft to the fight: 
 Renown'd my brother for die chace, 
 
 And terrible in fight. 
 
 Sons of my love ! fpeak once again- 
 Ah no! to death a prey, 
 
 Silent they are, and muft remain; 
 For cold their breafts of clay. 
 
 But are their fleeting fpirits fled, 
 
 Acrofs the plain fo foon ! 
 Or fhun the ihadowsof the dead 
 
 The glympfes of the moon? 
 
 Speak, where on rock, or mountain grave, 
 
 Still clafli your fouls of fire, 
 Or reconcil'd, in fome dark cave 
 
 Your peaceful ghofts retire. 
 
 Ah!
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 201 
 
 Ah ! where her friends fhall Colrna find ? 
 
 Hark No they're filent ftill 
 
 No muttering anfwer brings the wind; 
 
 No whifper o'er the hill. 
 
 Fearlefs, yet overwhelm'd with grief. 
 
 I fit all night in te,ars ; 
 Hopelefs of comfort or relief, 
 
 When morning light appears. 
 
 Yetraife, ye friends of thefe, the deadj 
 
 On this fad fpot their tomb ; 
 But clofe not up their narrow bed, 
 
 Till haplefs Colma come. 
 
 For why behind them mould we Hay, 
 
 Whofe life is now a dream? 
 Together here our corfes lay, 
 
 Befide the murmuring ftream. 
 
 So (hall my mivering ghoft befeen., 
 
 Lamenting o'er the flain ; 
 As homeward hies the hunter keen, 
 
 Benighted on the plain.. 
 
 Yet (hall he, fearlefs, pafs along, 
 
 And lend his liftening ear : 
 For fweet, though fad, mall be my fong, 
 
 For friends I lov'd fo dear. 
 
 XXXIV.
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 NATHQS AND D A R T H U L A, 
 By J. T A t T. 
 
 T5e hint of tktr poem (attempted in the ballad ft He) if 
 take* from one of the lefier poems of QJJlan* 
 
 ON Morven's hills, where valour rofc 
 The prudence of the foil, 
 The youthful Nathos, dread of foes^ 
 Enjoyed the martial toil. 
 
 Great in the field, his fiery {pear 
 
 Commanded prompt regard ; 
 Ja days of peace the fprightly chear, 
 
 With focial foul he Jhar'd. 
 
 Impartial heroes prais'd his truth, 
 
 Approv'd his growing fame, 
 The artlefs virgins lov'd the youth, 
 
 And nurs'd the ani'rous flame. 
 
 But
 
 OLD BALLADS. -505 
 
 But chief for fair Darthula's charms 
 
 His feeling bofom beat ; 
 For her he bore the toil of arms, 
 
 And mock'd the battle's heat. 
 
 With ev'ry grace the virgin ihone 
 
 Unrival'd on the plain- 
 What wonder if the yeuth was won, 
 
 And hugg'd the pleafing chain ! 
 
 In calnj content they pafs'd the day, 
 
 When war had ceas'd to rage, 
 Now told the laughing ftory gay. 
 
 Now heard the tale of age. 
 
 But Cairbar, Erin's bloody king, 
 
 Beheld with envious eyes ; 
 He bad the hoftile clangour ring, 
 
 And num'rous armies rife. 
 
 The gallant Nathos heard the found 
 
 That threaten'd dreadful woe ; 
 He call'd his warlike chiefs around, 
 
 And, pointing to the foe, 
 
 Behold, he cried, the hoftile crew 
 
 That come to try our might, 
 Jn endlefs lines they rife to view, 
 
 And tire the burden'd fight ; 
 
 Bo:
 
 204 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 But /hall their numbers damp our fire ? 
 
 Shall Morven's heroes yield I 
 Shall we forego each great defire,. 
 
 And tamely quit the field ? 
 
 No like our fathers let us rife, 
 
 Like them rufh furious on ; 
 Haile, let us fnatch the glorious prize 
 
 Of conqueft. fairly won. 
 
 His words inflam'd each warrior's foal, 
 Their breails with tranfport glow'd, 
 
 A loud applaufe run thro' the whole, 
 By dauntlefs hearts beftow'd. 
 
 Darthula faw the morning fcene, 
 Her griefs were mix'd with joy, 
 
 She could not leave the belt of men, 
 Nor warlike fchemes annoy. 
 
 For well me knew the clam of fwoids 
 
 Was grateful to his ear ; 
 Yet love's delufive parting words 
 
 Might touch his heart too near. 
 
 In penfive pofture long me Hood, 
 
 Revolving in her mind, 
 Whether to join the godlike crowd, 
 
 Or lonely pine behind. 
 
 At
 
 OLD BALLADS. 205 
 
 At laft-flie burft the martial ranks, 
 
 Array'd in warlike pride ; 
 Swift as a flream that fcprns its banks, 
 
 They parted on each de. 
 
 Low at her Nathos' feet ihe fell, 
 
 And muft we part ? {he faid ; 
 Muft you the hoftile crew expel, 
 
 And leave your helplefs maid i 
 
 But glory calls, and valour Cues, 
 
 Hafte then, the call obey ; 
 Tho' fond regard my heart fubdues, 
 
 I ne'er fhall afk your ftay, 
 
 But can I live when yon are gone. 
 
 On Morven's lonely plain ? 
 Shall I poflefs the halls alone, 
 
 And fing the mournful ftrain ? 
 
 No like a youth of mighty force, 
 
 I'll follow where you go ; 
 With willing heart purfue your courfc, 
 
 Nor heed the nura'rous foe. 
 
 If prayers or tears the fates can move, 
 
 Succefs fhall fmile around ; 
 If Nathos fall, Darthula's love 
 
 Shall watch the fatal wound, 
 
 With
 
 *o6 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 "With mute attention Nathos heard 
 
 Darthula's fond requeft; 
 Her love the dreadful profpeft chear'd, 
 
 And warna'd the hero's breaft. 
 
 Yes, you fhall go, my faithful fair, 
 
 To horror's fav'rite fcene ; 
 If you are near, I '11 mock defpair, 
 
 And fcorn the might of men. 
 
 With rapid hafte the field they fought 
 
 Where Erin's monarch lay ; 
 With fatal force the armies fought. 
 
 And Nathos fell a prey. 
 
 The fad Darthula's care was vain, 
 
 In vain was ev'ry art ; 
 No earthly pow'r could eafe his pain, 
 
 Or heai his bleeding heart. 
 
 As o'er his wounds Darthula wept, 
 
 And bath'd them with a tear, 
 The breaft plate from her bofom leapt, 
 
 She tofs'd away the fpear. 
 
 Grim Erin's monarch feiz'd the fpoil 
 
 With triumph's cruel joy ; 
 He view'd the nymph with fcornful fmilc, 
 
 Ambitious to deftroy. 
 
 With
 
 OLD BALLADS.- 207 
 
 "With haughty words he fought her love, 
 
 So oft refus'd before; 
 With threaten'd woe he tried to mov-e, 
 
 But flie difdainful bore. 
 
 Since Nathos falls, with him I '11 die, 
 
 No other boon I erave ; 
 Since life can nought of blifs fupply, 
 
 I'll court his filent grave. 
 
 There fhall the conftant lovers meet, 
 
 And all their paflkm tell, 
 Shall ftrow with fhrubs and fJow'rets fvvcet 
 
 His tomb, who lov'd fo well. 
 
 But fee ! his ftiade delays its flight. 
 
 And chides my tedious ftay : 
 I come, my love ! my fole delight! 
 
 She fpoke and dy'd away. 
 
 XXXV.
 
 ao3 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 XXXV. 
 CHILDE .WATERS. 
 
 yirrj ballad which appears to le ancient, >. .vy.^-^. iS 
 one ofi the fame Jubject, by Mrs. Hampdtn Pye, are 
 primed from a collection of poems publijked by that lady 
 in they tar 1771. 
 
 CHILDE Waters in his ftable food*, 
 And ftroakt his milk-white fteede, 
 To him a fayre yonge lady came. 
 As ever ware woman's weede. 
 
 Sayes, Chriit you fave, good Childe Waters, 
 
 Sayes, Chrift you fave, and fee ; 
 My girdle of gold that was too longe, 
 
 Is now too fhort for mee. 
 
 And all is with one childe of yours, 
 
 I feel fturre at my fide : 
 My gowne of greene it is too ftraighte, 
 
 Before it was too wide.
 
 OLD B A-L LADS. 209 
 
 if the childe be mine, fair Ellen, he faid, 
 
 Be mine as you tell mee ; 
 Then take you Chefhire and Lancaflure both, 
 
 Take them your own to bee. 
 
 If the childe me mine, fair Ellen, he faid, 
 
 Be mine as you doe fweare j 
 Then take you Chelhire and Lancafhire both, 
 
 And make that child your heyre. 
 
 Shee fayes, I had rather have one kifle, 
 
 Childe Waters, of thy mouth ; 
 Than I wold have Chefhire and Lancafhire both, 
 
 That lye by north and fouthe. 
 
 And I had rather have one twinklinge, 
 
 Childe Waters, of thine ee ; 
 Than I wold have Cheshire and Lancafhire both, 
 
 To take them mine owne to bee. 
 
 To-morrow, Ellen, I muil forth ride, 
 
 Fair into the north countree ; 
 The fayreft ladye that I can finde, 
 
 Ellen, muft goe with mee. 
 
 Though I am not -a lady fayre, 
 
 Yet let me go with thee, 
 And ever I pray you, Childe Waters, 
 
 Your foot-page let me bee. 
 
 VOL. II. P If
 
 210 OLD BALLAD S. 
 
 If you my foot-page will be, Ellen, 
 
 As you do tell to mee : 
 Then you rauft cut your gown of greene, 
 
 An inch above your knee. 
 
 >oe muft you do your yellow locks, 
 
 An inch above your ee : 
 You muft tell no man what is my name, 
 
 My foot-page then you fhall bee. 
 
 Shee, all tne longe daye Childe Waters rode, 
 
 Ran barefoote by his fjde ; 
 Yet was he norer foe courteous a knighte, 
 
 To fay, Ellen, will you ryde ? 
 
 Shee, all the longe daye Childe Waters rode, 
 Rail barefoote throw the broome ; 
 
 Yet was he never fo courteous a knighte,. 
 To fay, put on your fhoone. 
 
 Ride foftlye, fhee fayd, O Childe Waters, 
 
 Why do you ryde fo faft ? 
 The childe, which is no man's but thine, 
 
 My bodye it will braft. 
 
 Hee fayth, feeit thou yortd water, Ellen, 
 That flows from bank to brimme ? 
 
 I truft in God, O' Childe Waters, 
 You never will fee me fwymme. 
 
 But
 
 OLD BALLADS, an 
 
 But when (he came to the water fyde, 
 
 Shee fayled to the chinne : 
 Now the Lord of Heaven be my fpeede, 
 
 For I muft learn to fwymme. 
 
 The fait waters bare up her clothes, 
 
 Our lady bare up her chinne : 
 Childe Waters was a woe man, good Lord* 
 
 To fee fayre Ellen fwymme. 
 
 And when fliee over the water wa?, 
 
 Shee then came to his knee : 
 Hee fayd, come hither, thou fayre Ellen> 
 
 Loe yonder what I fee. 
 
 Seeft thou not yonder hall, Ellen : 
 
 Of red gold mines the yate : 
 Of twenty-foure fayre ladyes there, 
 
 The fayreft is my mate. 
 
 Seeft thou not yonder hall> Ellen ? 
 
 Of red gold mines the toMfre : 
 There are twenty-foure ladyes there ; 
 
 The fayreft is my paramoure. 
 
 I fee the hall now, ChiWe Waters, 
 
 Of red gold mines the yate ; 
 God give you joy nowe of yourfelfe. 
 
 And of your worthy mate. 
 
 ft I fee
 
 212 O L D B A L L A D S, 
 
 I fee the hall now, Childe Waters, 
 
 Of red gold fhines the towre : 
 God give you good now of yourfelfe, 
 
 And of your paramoure. 
 
 There twenty -four fayre ladyes were, 
 
 A playing at the ball ; 
 And Ellen, the fayreft lady there, 
 
 Muft bring his fteed to the ftall. 
 
 There twenty-four fayre ladyes were, 
 
 A playing at the chefle ; 
 And Ellen, the fayreft lady there, 
 
 Muft bring his horfe to graffe. 
 
 And then befpake Childe Waters filter ; 
 
 Thefe were the wordes fayd fhee j 
 You have the prettyeft page, brother, 
 
 That ever I did fee. 
 
 But that his bellye it is fo bigge, 
 
 His girdle ftands foe hye : 
 And ever I pray you, Childe Waters, 
 
 Let him in my chamber lye. 
 
 It is not fit for a little foot-page, 
 
 That has run through mofle and myre, 
 
 To lye in the chamber of any ladye, 
 That weares fo rich attyre.
 
 OLD BALLADS. 213 
 
 It is more meete for a little foot-page, 
 
 That has run through mofie and myre, 
 To take his fupper upon his knee, 
 
 And lye by the kitchen fire. 
 
 Now when they had fupped every one, 
 
 To bedd they tooke theyr waye : 
 He fayd, come hither my little foot-page, 
 
 And hearken what I faye. 
 
 Goe thee downe into yonder towne, 
 
 And lowe into the ftreete ; 
 The fayreft ladye that thou canfl finde, 
 
 Hyre in mine arms to fleepe: 
 And take her up in thine armes f.vaine, 
 
 For * filing of her fcete. 
 
 Ellen is gone into the towne, 
 
 And lowe into the ftreete ; 
 The fayreft lady that fhe colde finde, 
 
 She hyried in his armes to fleepe : 
 And took her up in her armes twain e, 
 
 For filing of her feete. 
 
 I pray you nowe, good Childe Waters, 
 
 Let mee lye at your feete ; 
 For there is noe place about this houfe, 
 
 Where I may faye a fleepe. 
 
 * i. e. Defiling. 
 
 P 3 He
 
 214- OLD BALLADS, 
 
 He gave her leave, and fayre Ellen 
 
 Down at his bed's feete laye : 
 This done, the night drove on apace j 
 
 And when it was neare the daye, 
 
 Hee fayd, rife up my little foot-page, 
 Give my ileede corne and haye ; 
 
 And give him now the goode black oats, 
 To carry mee better awaye* 
 
 Up then rofe the fayre Ellen, 
 
 And gave his fleede corne and haye ; 
 
 And foe fh.ee did the good black oates, 
 To carry him better awaye. 
 
 She leaned her back to the manger fide, 
 
 And grievouflye did groane ; 
 Shee lean'd her back to the manger fide, 
 
 And there fhee made her moane. 
 
 And that beheard his mother deare, 
 
 Shee heard her woefull woe ; 
 Shee fayd, rife up, thou Childe Waters, 
 
 And into thy liable goe : 
 
 For in thy ftable is a ghofte, 
 
 That grievouflye doth grone ; 
 Or elfe fome woman laboures with childe, 
 
 Shee is fp woe begone, 
 
 Up
 
 OLD BALLADS. r 215 
 
 Up then rofe Childe Waters foone, 
 
 And did on his fhirte of filke ; 
 And then he put on his othere clothes, 
 
 On his bodye as white as milke. 
 
 And when he came to the ftable dore, 
 
 Full ftill there hee did ftand, 
 That hee might heare his fayre Ellen, 
 
 How fhe made her monand. 
 
 Shee fayd, lullabye, mine owne deare childu, 
 
 Lullabye, deare childe, deare ; 
 I wolde thy father were a kinge, 
 
 Thy mother layd on a biere. 
 
 Peace now, hee fayd, good fayre Ellen, 
 
 Bee of goode cheere, I praye ; 
 And the bridall, and the churchinge botlie 
 
 Shall bee upon one daye. 
 
 P 4 XXXVI.
 
 ai6 * O L D BALLADS, 
 
 XXXVI. 
 EARL WALTER. 
 
 EARL Walter ftroked his milk-white fteed, 
 His heart with courage beat ; 
 When lo ! a damfel matchlefs fair! 
 Fell proftrate at his feet. 
 
 Behold, (he cried, a ruined maid, 
 
 The viftim of thy love, 
 And let thy Ellen's once-praifed form, 
 
 Thy tender pity move. 
 
 The dreadful time draws on apace, 
 
 That muft reveal my fhame, 
 And can earl Walter then confent, 
 
 To murder Ellen's fame ? 
 
 Ah ! wretched infant, doomed to woe 
 
 Before thy natal hour, 
 Pifgrace muft be thy portion here, 
 
 Wronged Ellen's only dower. 
 
 The
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 217 
 
 The gallant youth was inly moved, 
 
 But coldly thus replied, 
 The cure that love perhaps difclaims, 
 
 My juflice (hall provide. 
 
 From north to fouth extended wide, 
 
 With fields and paftures fair, 
 Thofe plains to thee I freely give ; 
 
 Bellow them on thy heir. 
 
 By me, me cried, more highly prized, 
 
 One kifs of that dear mouth, 
 Than all thy rich and fertile plains, 
 
 Extending north and fouth. 
 
 One glance of thofe deluding eyes 
 
 More rapture can beftow, 
 Than mould our monarch quit his throne, 
 
 And that to me forego. 
 
 No more, fair Ellen, cries the earl, 
 
 1 can no longer ftay ; 
 For northward muft I bend my cour/e, 
 
 There lies my deftin'd way. 
 
 With thee, earl Walter, let me go, 
 
 Thy handmaid will I be ; 
 All perils I with joy can brave, 
 
 That much loved face to fee. 
 
 Rafh
 
 2i8 OLD BALL ADS, 
 
 Rafli Ellen ! doft thou know the terms. 
 
 On which alone thou goeft ? 
 To drop each foft alluring grace, 
 
 Thy fex's pride and boaft. 
 
 Thofe auburn locks to cut away, 
 
 To caft thy woman's vveeu ; 
 All day to follow as my page, 
 
 All night to tend my fteed. 
 
 Her auburn locks fhe cut away, 
 
 She caft her woman's weed, 
 All day ihe followed as his page, 
 
 Each night Ihe fed his fteed. 
 
 At length a rapid ftream they find ; 
 
 Which when earl Walter viewed, 
 Thou can'ft not, Ellen, follow here 
 
 He fpoke, and paffed the flood. 
 
 But love, than danger ftronger far, 
 
 Her timid heart upbore ; 
 She rufh'd at once amid the waves, 
 
 And reached the farther fhore, 
 
 But ftill the earl his purpofe kept, 
 
 No pity he confeft, 
 Tho' ftrong fatigue and anxious care 
 
 The damfcl fore oppreft. 
 
 Thy
 
 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 Thy languid eyelids, Ellen, raife, 
 And view yon princely bower ; 
 
 There pleafure holds his revel reign, 
 And marks each paffing hour. 
 
 There dwells a maid more fair than morn, 
 Than fummer funs more bright ; 
 
 That maiden is my plighted lov, 
 My joy and fole delight. 
 
 Sad Ellen mildly anfwered thus, 
 
 May every blifs betide, 
 And Hill encreafmg rapture wait 
 
 Earl Walter and his bride ! 
 
 The princely bower they enter foon, 
 And hail the glittering train ; 
 
 Earl Walter courts each lovely nymph 
 Nor heeds his Ellen's pain. 
 
 His filler with fuperior grace 
 
 Shone far above the reft, 
 Who when (he Ellen's form furveye4, 
 
 Her wonder thus expreft. 
 
 Ah ! whence, my brother, is thy page ? 
 
 How heavenly fair his face ! 
 What pity that his fize uncouth 
 
 Such beauty mould difgrace, 
 
 But
 
 220 O L D B A L L A D S, 
 
 But let the boy on me attend, 
 
 In my apartment wait ; 
 My care (hall (both his gentle mind, 
 
 And mend his prefeiit ftate. 
 
 Too great for him, that honor were, 
 
 A youth of low degree, 
 Enough diftinguilhed as my page, 
 
 On foot to follow me. 
 
 Now midnight clofing every eye, 
 
 Left Ellen free to weep, 
 But with the morn the earl arofe, 
 
 And broke the bands of fleep. 
 
 Awake ! awake ! thon flothful page, 
 
 'Tis dawn of breaking day, 
 Bring forth in hafle my milk-white fteed, 
 
 I muft from hence away. 
 
 But ere her lord could be obey'd, 
 
 Uncall'd Lucina came, 
 And to fad Ellen's other woes, 
 
 She adds a mother's name. 
 
 Now burft their way the heart-felt groans 
 
 Now falls the trickling tear, 
 Till thro' the high refounding dome, 
 
 They reach earl Waller's ear. 
 
 With
 
 OLD BALLADS. 221 
 
 With eager fteps he fought the place, 
 
 Then made a fearful paufe, 
 While broken accents breathed in figlis, 
 
 Reveal the fatal caufe. 
 
 Lie flill, thou pledge of haplefs love, 
 
 Lie ftill, my infant dear j 
 I would thy father were a king, 
 
 Thy mother on a bier ! 
 
 Enough had now the lover heard, 
 
 He clafps her in his arms, 
 Look up my miftrefs, friend, and wife, 
 
 Revive thy drooping charms, 
 
 Thy trial now is fairly paft, 
 
 Thou firft of woman kind; 
 Thy form, tho' caft in beauty's mould, 
 
 Enmrines a hero's mind. 
 
 And doft thou know r.t length my heart? 
 
 Then have I well been tried ; 
 I only lived to prove my faith : 
 
 She grafped his hand, and died- 
 
 XXXVII.
 
 12* O L D B A L LADS* 
 
 XXXVII. 
 EDWIN AND ETHELINDE, 
 
 ON E parting kifs, my Ethelende, 
 Young Edwin fault'ring cried, 
 I hear thy father's hafty tread, 
 Nor longer mull I bide. 
 
 To-morrow's eve, in yonder wood, 
 
 Beneath the well-known tree, 
 Say, wilt thou meet thine own true love, 
 
 Whofe heart's delight's in thee. 
 
 She clafp'd the dear beloved youth 
 
 And figh'd, and dropt a tear, 
 Whate'er betide, my only love 
 
 I '11 furely meet thee there. 
 
 They kifs, they part, a lift'ning page, 
 
 To malice ever bent, 
 O'erheard their talk, and to his lord 
 
 Rcveal'd their fond intent* 
 
 TlM
 
 OLD BALLADS. 223 
 
 The baron's brow grew dark with frowns, 
 
 And rage diftain'd his cheek, 
 Heavens ! fhall a vafl'al fhepherd dare 
 
 My daughter's love to fcek. 
 
 But know, rafh boy, thy bold attempt 
 
 Full forely malt thou rue : 
 Nor e'er again, ignoble maid, . 
 Shalt thou thy lover view. 
 
 The dews of evening faft did fatf, 
 
 And darknefs fpread apace, 
 When Ethelinde, with weeping breatt, 
 
 Flew to th' appointed place. 
 
 With eager eye fhe looks around, 
 
 No Edwin there was feen ; 
 He was not wont to break his faith, 
 
 What can his abfence mean ? 
 
 Her heart beat thick at every noife, 
 
 Each ruftling thro' the wood, 
 And now, (he trave/s'd quick the ground, 
 
 And now, fhe liftening flood. 
 
 Enlivening hope, and chilling fear, 
 
 By turns her bofom fhare. 
 And now, fhe calls upon his name, 
 
 Now, weeps in fad defpair.
 
 224 O L D B A L L A D S, 
 
 Mean time, the day's laft glimmering fled, 
 
 And black'ning all the fky, 
 A hideous tempeft dreadful rofe, 
 
 And thunders roll'd on high. 
 
 Poor Ethelinde, aghaft, difmay'd, 
 
 Beholds with wild affright 
 The threat'ning flcy, the lonely wood, 
 
 And horrors of the night. 
 
 Where art thou now, my Edwin dear, 
 
 Thy friendly aid I want ; 
 Ah me 1 my boding heart foretells 
 
 That aid thou canft not grant. 
 
 Thus rack'd with pangs, and beat with ftorms, 
 
 Confus'd and loft me roves, 
 Now looks to heaven with earneft prayer 
 
 Now calls on him me loves. 
 
 At length, a diflant taper's ray 
 
 Struck beaming on her fight, 
 Thro' brakes ftie guides her fainting fteps 
 
 Towards the welcome light. 
 
 An aged hermit peaceful dwelt 
 
 In this fequefter'd wild, 
 Calm goodnefs fat upon his brow, 
 
 His words were foft and mild. 
 
 He
 
 OLD BALLADS. 225 
 
 He op'd his hofpitable door, 
 
 And much admiring view'd 
 The tender virgin's graceful form 
 
 Dafh'd by the tempeft rude. 
 
 Welcome, fair maid, whoe'er thou art; 
 
 To this warm fhelter'd cell ; 
 Here reft fecure thy wearied feet j 
 
 Here peace and fafety dwell. 
 
 He fa\v the heart-wrung ftarting tear, 
 
 And gently fought to know, 
 With kideft pity's fbothing looks, 
 
 The llory of her woe. 
 
 Scarce had me told her mournful tale^ 
 
 When ftruck with dread, they hear 
 Voices confus'd, with dying groans* 
 
 The cell approaching near. 
 
 Help, father, help, they loudly cry > 
 
 A wretch here bleeds to death, 
 Sdme cordial balfam quickly give> 
 
 To ftay his parting breath. 
 
 All deadly pale they lay him down, 
 
 And gam'd with many a wound, 
 When, woeful fight, 'twas Edwin's felf, 
 
 Lay bleeding on the ground. 
 
 VOL. II. Q With
 
 226 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 With frantick grief poor Ethelinde 
 
 Befide his body falls. 
 Lift up thy eyes, my Edwin dear, 
 
 Tis Ethelinde that calls. 
 
 That much-lov'd found recalls his life, 
 
 He lifts his cloilng eyes, 
 And feebly murmuring out her name, 
 
 He gafps, he faints, he dies. 
 
 Stupid a while, in dumb defpair, 
 
 She gaz'd on Edwin dead, 
 Dim grew her eyes, her lips turn'd pale, 
 
 And life's warm fpirit fled. 
 
 xxxvur. 
 
 DAMON AND CHLOE. 
 
 In imitation of Margaret's Ghoft. 
 
 YOUNG Damon was the blytheft lad, 
 Ah, who fo blythe as he ? 
 And Chloe was the blytheft maid, 
 Ah, who fo blythe as me ?
 
 OLfi BALLADS. 227 
 
 Her voice me rais'd with merry fong, 
 
 All in the greenwood {hade, 
 The nymphs and (hepherds trip along, 
 
 To hear the vocal maid. 
 
 She fmgs of grots, and cooling fpririgs> 
 
 The plain and fhady grove ; 
 Of hills and dales the virgin fings, 
 
 But never fings of love* 
 
 Her nights in eafe, her days in joy, 
 
 She fpends ; fecure her heart, 
 From Cupid's wiles ; me fcorn'd the boy* 
 
 And langh'd at all his art. 
 
 But mark the dire reverfe of fate, 
 
 Each nymph, and fhepherd fwain, 
 Young Damon conies, a youth compleat, 
 
 The pride of ev'ry plain. 
 
 f 
 
 And he would fing fofoft a lay, 
 
 He well might love iqfpire ; 
 And when he fung, ah, well-a-day ! 
 
 How would the maid admire! 
 
 And he was f:raight, and he was tallj, 
 
 All fwains he did excel ; 
 The maidens lov'd him one and all, 
 
 But'Chloe lov'd him well. 
 
 And
 
 228 OLDBALLAD&, 
 
 And he was fldU'd in herbs and flow'rs, 
 
 The lenient balms impart j 
 But oh, what herbs, ye pitying pow'rs> 
 
 Can heal poor Chloe's heart. 
 
 With hafty ftep ftie flies the plain, 
 
 And feeks the diftant grove ; 
 Poor Chloe never told her pain, 
 
 She never told her love. 
 
 But pin'd away in difcontent, 
 
 And never fought relief; 
 Like Patience on a monument, 
 
 She fat and fmil'd at grief. 
 
 Concealment like a worm i r th' bud, 
 
 Fed on her damaik cheek ; 
 The filent tear ran trickling down, 
 
 She figh'd, but would not fpeak. 
 
 But foon, too foon the (hepherd hies ; 
 
 Ah ! me, poor Chloe's heart ! 
 Her fwelling breaft, and wat'ry eyes, 
 
 Betray the hidden fmart. 
 
 Have you not feen the rofe new blown/ 
 
 All in a fummer's day, 
 Expand her beauties to the fun r 
 
 And welcome ev'ry ray ?
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 229 
 
 And when at eve her lover goes 
 
 To gild fome happier mead, 
 Have you not feen the widow'd rofe 
 
 Recline her dewy head ? 
 
 Such Chloe once, fuch Chloe now; 
 
 Ah ! Chloe ceafe to weep ! 
 Damon, for you her forrows fiowj 
 
 Pale hajjgs her trembling lip. 
 
 And now full heavy hangs her head, 
 
 Howchang'd, ah! well-a-day! 
 Now every fprightiy charm is fled, 
 
 For Damon's gone away. 
 
 How penfive thro' the lonely vale, 
 
 She takes her filent way, 
 To breathe the fragrance of the gale, 
 
 And hear the vernal lay. 
 
 But ah ! too wretched and forlorn, 
 
 She heedlefs moves along; 
 Unfelt the breeze that fcents the morn. 
 
 Unheard the vernal fong. 
 
 Her fpeech is fad, and fad her brow, 
 
 Her finking fpirits fail ; 
 On her wan cheek no rofes blow, 
 
 Her lips wax wond'rous pale. 
 
 0.3 High
 
 230 OLD BALLAD 
 
 High heaves her heart with many a figh, 
 
 Fail falls the frequent tear : 
 Low bent to earth herftreaming eye, 
 
 For Damon was not jhere. 
 
 With feeble voice her plaintive fong 
 
 She ftrives in vain to raife, 
 Her lyre upon a willow hung, 
 
 That murmurs to the breeze. 
 
 And thrice her bofom heav'd a figh, 
 
 And thrice (he dropt a tear, 
 And thrice me rais'd a mournful cry^ 
 
 For Damon was not there. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 LORD GEORGE AND LADY DOROTHY. 
 
 In imitation of William and Margaret. By a lady of 
 quality. 
 
 -" Foul deeds 'will rife, 
 
 o' all the earth overwhelm them from mtns eyes" 
 
 HAMLET. 
 
 Mtkougb
 
 OLD BALL ADS. 231 
 
 Although the principal circumftanccs in this ballad are f aid 
 t-o hail e had a foundation in faCl ; yet -~we are totally 'unable 
 to point out the parties ivho art alluded to in it, or eutn the 
 time in which it nvas ivrittea. In this uncertainty me can- 
 not but J'ufpefl the inhale to be a merejifiion, and for the cre- 
 dit of human nature, as much a work cf imagination as the 
 ballad uohich it profeffes to be an imitation of. 
 
 WHEN all was wrapt in fable night, 
 And nature fought repofe, 
 Forth from its grave the reftlefs fpright 
 Of Dorothy arofe. 
 
 Her face was all befet with woe, 
 Her cheeks were wan with care, 
 
 Her eyes were parch'd and funk with grief, 
 That once fo radiant were. 
 
 With fblemn pace and awful gloom, 
 
 And train withforrow hung, 
 She wander'd to that fatal room 
 
 From whence her forrows fprung. 
 
 And thrice me gave a piteous groan, 
 
 And all unfurl'd her fhroud, 
 And thrice me fadly fhcok her head, 
 
 And thus befpoke aloud ; 
 
 oh
 
 232 O L D B A L L A D S, 
 
 Oh George, thou author of this fcene, 
 
 Thy downy dreams forfake ; 
 'Tis injur'd Dorothy that calls, 
 
 Injurious George awake. 
 
 Awake and hear that breathlefs voice, 
 
 Which thy upbraidings brought, 
 Awake and fee that dreadful {hade, 
 
 Which thy ill treatment wrought. 
 
 Behold this babe, this embrio babe, 
 
 That fcarce has learn'd to live ; 
 Say, monfter, why did you deftroy 
 
 That life you fought to give ? 
 
 * The means were horrid as thy foul, 
 
 The will was work divine ; 
 That nought from me might ever grieve, 
 
 To be a work of thine. 
 
 See what a havock thou haft made, 
 
 Vile pillager of time, 
 To blaft the fruits that nature gave^, 
 
 Before their fummer prime. 
 
 * By being frequently hurried a.bout in a coach, and as often 
 OTer-walked, flic mifcarried, when five months gone with child, 
 and died the next day. 
 
 How
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 233 
 
 HOW cou'd you, (none but you could do) 
 
 Cut off my morn fo foon, 
 And let my lafting night come on 
 
 Before its perfeft noon ? 
 
 How could you vow a lover's heart, 
 
 And yet that vow for fake ? 
 How could you win a virgin's heart, 
 
 Yet caufe that heart to break ? 
 
 How could you to the prying world 
 
 Profefs fuch mow of joy, 
 Yet by your cruel deeds to me 
 
 Thefe gilded words deftroy ? 
 
 How have I ftrove in others' eyes 
 
 To be all chearful feen, 
 When by your wounding words my heart 
 
 Was bleeding all within ? 
 
 How have I on my bended knees 
 
 Implored your will to know ? 
 What have I not, to pleafe that will, 
 
 Refolved to undergo ? 
 
 Why left I all that held one dear, 
 
 (O dire decrees of fate !) 
 Why gave I pure untainted love 
 
 For undeferved hate ?
 
 234 OLD BALLADS, 
 
 When you was abfent from my fight 
 
 How refrlefs have I been ! 
 When you appear'd what joys I felt, 
 
 Yet none in you were feen ! 
 
 Wherein had nature wrought amifs, 
 
 Or what had art deft I'd? 
 Nor time had any furrows made, 
 
 Or any feature fpoil'd. 
 
 My face as other faces fair. 
 
 And I as others kind ; 
 Nor faulty more my eyes than yours, 
 
 The fault was in thy mind. 
 
 There grew the beam that overcaft 
 
 The gifts which I pofTeft ; 
 There lodg'd thofe favage poifon'd fhafts, 
 
 That pierc'd my bleeding breait. 
 
 Why did you, bafe diflembling man, 
 
 Sirch treacherous ills impart ? 
 To me you only gave your hand, 
 
 To others gave your heart. 
 
 Why was I, wretched, fingled out, 
 To Ccreen your death lefs fhame? 
 
 Why was a falie-one deem'd as wife. 
 While I but bore the name r 
 
 With
 
 OLD BALLADS. 235 
 
 With her you fpent thofe pleafmg hours, 
 
 That did to me belong-, 
 She in your eyes did all things right, 
 
 While I did all things wrong. - 
 
 Why for thefe fufferings was I born, 
 
 Perfidious ! tell me why, 
 Ere I beheld thy faithlefs face, 
 
 Why fuffered not to die ? 
 
 Nor laws nor human nor divine, 
 
 Could flop thy brutal will ; 
 Think on thy abfent brother's wife. 
 
 Thy brother's widow ftill. 
 
 Still thou enjoy'ft that guilty dame, 
 
 In rank inceftuous bed ; 
 Think where will lodge thy guilty foul, 
 
 When from thy body fled. 
 
 Think on the deadly deeds you've done, 
 
 Think on the fatal change ; 
 Thy crimes rife higher in account 
 
 That jullice can avenge. 
 
 May fpeftres flare thee in the face, 
 
 May horrors guard thee round ! 
 May confcienceon thy footfteps tread, 
 
 And all thy thoughts confound. 
 
 May
 
 236 O L D B A L L A D S. 
 
 May Egypt's plagues diiiurb thy reft, 
 
 And every loath'd diieafe ; 
 Till thou haft all my wrongs redraft, 
 
 May all thefe plagues increafe. 
 
 And may the partners of thy joys 
 
 Be partners of thy pain, 
 Till they have all my fbrrows felt, 
 
 May pleafures be their bane. 
 
 And foft the glow-worm calls me hence. 
 
 And ere it call on thee ; 
 Atorre for every black oflence 
 
 Farewel remember me. 
 
 XL.
 
 OLD BALLADS. 237 
 
 XL. 
 
 EDWIN AMD EMMA, 
 By Mr. Mallet. 
 
 On the publication of this ballad, in the year 1760, Mr. 
 Mallet Jubjoined an attejlation of the truth of the fa8s re.- 
 lated in it, ivhich ive Jhall give the reader literally ; 
 
 ExtraS of a letter from the titrate of Solves in York- 
 Jhire, on the fubjecl of the proceeding poem, to Mr. Cop- 
 perthwaite at Mar rick. 
 
 " Worthy fir, 
 
 tr A! to the affair mentioned in yours ; it happened long 
 *' before my time. 1 ha<ve therefore been obliged to conj'ult my 
 "clerk, and another perfon in the neighbourhood for the truth 
 " of that melancholy event. The hijhry of it is as follows: 
 
 <f The family -name of the young man was Wrightfon ; of 
 the young maiden Rat/ton. They were both much of the 
 fame age ; that if, growing up to twenty, la their birth 
 'was no dij parity : but in fortune, alas ! Jhe -iv.r hit in- 
 ferior. His father, a hard old man, ivbo had by his 
 toil acquired a handjome competency, expecled and required 
 that his fon Jhould marry j'uit ably. But, as amor <vincit 
 frnnja, his heart ivas unalterably fixed on the pretty young
 
 238 O L D B A L L A D S. 
 
 '* creature already named. Their court Jhip, which was alt 
 " by ftealth, unknown to the family, continued about a 
 * s year. When it was found out, old Wrightfon, hiswije, 
 " and particularly their crooked daughter Hannah, flouted at 
 " the maiden, and treated her with notable contempt : for 
 " they held it as a maxim, and a ruftic one it is, that blood 
 *' nx as nothing without groats. 
 
 " The young la<ver Jickened, and took to his bed about 
 " Shrovc-tuefday, and died the funday fevennight after. 
 
 " On the la ft day of his illnefs, he defer ed to fee his mif- 
 " trefs : Jhe wai civilly received by the mother, who bid 
 " her wtlcome when it 'was too late. But her daughter 
 ' ' Hannah lay at his back to cut them off from all cj>- 
 " portunity of exchanging their thoughts. 
 
 " At her return home, on hearing the bell toll out for 
 " his departure, Jhe jcreamed aloud that her heart was 
 " bur ft, and expired fome moments after. 
 
 " The then cur ale of * Bowes inferted it in his rrg'.fter, 
 " that they both died of love, and were buried in the fame 
 * ' grave, March 15, 1714- / am, 
 
 '* Dtnr fir, 
 
 " Tours, &a" 
 
 FA R in the windings of a vale, 
 Faft by a flickering wood, 
 The fafe retreat of health and peace> 
 An humble cottage Hood. 
 
 * Bowes is a fmall village in Yorkfliire, where in former ages the 
 earls of Richmond had a caftle. It ftands on the edge of that vaft 
 and mountainous traft, named by the neighbouring people Stane- 
 more } which is always expofed to wind and weather, defolate and 
 folitary throughout. Camb. Brit. 
 
 There
 
 \ 
 
 OLD BALLADS, 239 
 
 There beauteous Emma flourim'd fair, 
 
 Beneath a mother's eye ; 
 Whofe only wifh on. earth was now 
 
 To fee her bleft, and die. 
 
 The fofteft blufh that nature fpreads 
 
 Gave colour to her cheek : 
 Such orient colour fmiles thro' heavetv 
 
 When May's fweet mornings break. 
 
 Nor let the pride of great ones fcorn 
 
 This charmer of the plains : 
 That fun who bids their diamond blaze, 
 
 To paint our lily deigns. 
 
 Long had fhe fill'd each youth with love, 
 
 Each maiden with defpair ; 
 And tho' by all a wonder own'd, 
 
 Yet knew not (he was fair. 
 
 Till Edwin came, the pride of fwains, 
 
 A foul that knew no art ; 
 And from whofe eye, ferenely mild, 
 
 Shone forth the feeling heart. 
 
 A mutual flame was qvHckly caught ; 
 
 Was quickly too reveal'd : 
 For neither bofom lodg'd a wifli, 
 
 That virtue keeps conceal'd. 
 
 2 What
 
 240 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 What happy hours of home-felt blifs 
 
 Did love on both beftow ! 
 But blifs too mighty long to laft, 
 
 Where fortune proves a foe. 
 
 His fifter, who, like Envy form'd, 
 
 Like her in mifchief joy'd, 
 To work them harm, with wicked fldll, 
 
 Each darker art employ'd. 
 
 The father too, a fordid man, . .* 
 
 Who love nor pity knew, 
 Was all-unfeeling as the clod. 
 
 From whence his riches grew. 
 
 Long had he feen their fecret flame, 
 
 And feen it long unmov'd : 
 Then with a father's frown at lail 
 
 Had fternly difapprov'd. 
 
 In Edwin's gentle heart, a war 
 
 Of differing paffions ilrove : g v- 
 His heart, that durft not difobey, 
 
 Yet could not ceafe to love. 
 
 Deny'd her fight, he oft behind 
 
 The fpreading hawthorn crept, 
 To fnatch a glance, to mark the fpot 
 
 Where Emma walk'd and wept. 
 
 Oft
 
 OLD BALLADS. 241 
 
 Oft too on Stanemore's wintry wafte, 
 
 Beneath the moonlight-ih.ide, 
 In fighs to pour his ibften'd foul, 
 
 The midnight-mourner Itray'd. 
 
 His cheek, where health with beauty glow'd, 
 
 A deadly pale o'ercait : 
 So fades the freih rofe in its prime> 
 
 Before the northern blafl. 
 
 The parents now, with late remorfe, 
 
 Hung o'er his dying bed ; 
 And weary'd heaven with fruitlefs vows, 
 
 And fruitlefs forrow fhed. 
 
 'Tis paft ! he cry'd but if your fouls 
 
 Sweet mercy yet can move, 
 Let thefe dim eyes once more behold, 
 
 What they muft ever love ! 
 
 She came ; his cold hand Ibftly touch'd, 
 
 And bath'd with many a tear : 
 Faft-falling o'er the primrofe pale, 
 
 So morning-dews appear. 
 
 But oh ! his filler's jealous care 
 
 A cruel fitter (he ! 
 Forbade what Emma came to fay ; 
 
 My Edwin live for me. 
 
 VOL. JI. R Now
 
 42 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 Now homeward as flie hopelefs wept 
 
 The church-yard path along, 
 The blaft blew cold, the dark owl fcream'd 
 
 Her lover's funeral fong. 
 
 Amid the falling gloom of night, 
 
 Her ftartling fancy found 
 In every bum his hovering made, 
 
 His groan in every found. 
 
 Alone, appall'd, thus had flie paft 
 
 The vifionary vale 
 When lo ! the death-bell fmote her ear, 
 
 Sad-founding in the gale ! 
 
 Juft then me reach'd, with trembling ftep, 
 
 Her aged mother's door 
 He 's gone ! me cry'd ; and I mail fee 
 
 That angel-face no more ! 
 
 I feel, I feel this breaking heart 
 
 Beat high againft my fide 
 From her white arm down funk her head ; 
 
 She ftiivering figh'd, and died. 
 
 XLI.
 
 OLD BALLADS. 243 
 
 XU. 
 
 THE HERMIT. 
 Sy Dr. Goldfmitb. 
 
 TURN, gentle hermit of the dale, 
 And guide my lonely way 
 To where yon taper chears the vale 
 With hofpitable ray. . 
 
 For here, forlorn and loft I tread, 
 
 With fainting fteps and flow, 
 Where wilds immeafureably fpread 
 
 Seem length'ning as I go. 
 
 Forbear, my fon, the hermit cries, 
 
 To tempt the dang'rous gloom, 
 For yonder faithlefs phantom flies 
 
 To lure thee to thy doom. 
 
 Here to the houfelefs child of want 
 
 My door is open ftill ; 
 And tho' my portion is but fcant, 
 
 I give it with good will : 
 
 R 2 Then
 
 244 OLD BALLAD S. 
 
 Then turn to-night, and freely (hare 
 
 Whate'er my cell beftows ; 
 My rufhy couch, and frugal fare, 
 
 My bleffing, and repofe. 
 
 No flocks that range the valley free 
 
 To flaughter I condemn ; 
 Taught by that power that pities me, 
 
 I learn to pity them ; 
 
 But from the mountain's grafTy fide 
 
 A guiltlefs feaft I bring : 
 A fcrip with herbs and fruits fupply'd,. 
 
 And water from the fpring. 
 
 Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego ;. 
 
 All earth-born cares are wrong : 
 Man wants but little here below, 
 
 Nor wants that little long. 
 
 Soft as the dew from heaven defcends,. 
 
 His gentle accents fell j 
 Tke modeft ftranger lowly bends, 
 
 And follows to the cell. 
 
 Far in a wilder nefs obfcure 
 
 The lonely maidion lay, 
 A refuge to the neighboring poor, 
 
 And Grangers led aftray.
 
 OLD BALL ADS. 245 
 
 No ftores beneath its humble thatch 
 
 Requir'd a mailer's care ; 
 The wicket op'ning with a latch 
 
 Receiv'd the harmlefs pair. 
 
 And now when bufy crowds retire 
 
 To take their evening reft, 
 The hermit trimm'd his little fire, 
 
 Andchear'd his penfive gueft; 
 
 And fpread his vegetable ftore, 
 
 And gaily preft, and fmil'd, 
 And, flull'd in legendary lore, 
 
 The ling'ring hours beguil'd. 
 
 Around in fympathetic mil th 
 
 Its tricks the kitten tries, 
 The cricket chirrups in the hearth, 
 
 The crackling faggot flies. 
 
 But nothing could a charm impart, 
 
 To foothe the Granger's woe ; 
 For grief was heavy at his heart, 
 
 And tears began to flow. 
 
 His rifing cares the hermit fpy'd, 
 
 With anfw'ring care opprcft : 
 And whence, unhappy youth, he cry'd, 
 
 The forrows of thy breaft ? 
 
 R 3 From
 
 246 O L D B A L L A D S. 
 
 From better habitations fparn'd, 
 
 Reludlant doll thou rove ? 
 Or grieve for friendfhip unreturn'd., 
 
 Or unregarded love ? 
 
 Atas ! the joy- that fortune brings 
 
 Are trifling, and decay ; 
 And thofe who prize the paltry things 
 
 More trifling ftill than they. 
 
 And what is friendlhip but a name, 
 
 A charm that lulls to fleep, 
 A {hade that follows wealth or fame, 
 
 And leaves the wretch to weep ? 
 
 And love is ftill an emptier found, 
 
 The modern fair one's jeft, 
 On earth unfeen, or only found 
 
 To warm the turtle's neft. 
 
 For fhame, fond youth, thy forrows hum, 
 
 And fpurn the fex, he faid : 
 But while he fpoke, a rifing blufii 
 
 His love-lorn gueft betray'd. 
 
 Surpriz'd he fees new beauties rife, 
 
 Swift mantling to the view, 
 Like colours o'er the morning fkies, 
 
 As bright, as tranfient too. 
 
 The
 
 OLD. BALLADS. 247 
 
 The baftvful look, the rifing breaft, 
 
 Alternate fpread alarms, 
 The lovely ftranger ftands confeft 
 
 A maid in all her charms. 
 
 And ah ! forgive a ftranger rude, 
 
 A wretch forlorn, fhe cry'd, 
 Whofe feet unhallow'd thus intrude 
 
 Where heaven and you refide. 
 
 But let a maid thy pity ftiare, 
 
 Whom love has taught to ftray ; 
 Who feeks for reft, but finds Defpair 
 
 Companion of her way. 
 
 My father liv'd befide the Tyne, 
 
 A wealthy lord was he ; 
 And all his wealth was mark'd as mine; 
 
 He had but only me. 
 
 To win me from his tender arms 
 
 Unnumber'd fuitors came ; 
 Who prais'd me for imputed charms. 
 
 And felt or fcign'd a flame. 
 
 Each hour a mercenary crowd 
 
 With richeft proffers ftrove ; 
 Among the reft young Edwin bow'd, 
 
 But never talk'd of love, 
 
 R 4 In
 
 248 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 In humble fimpleft habit clad, 
 
 No wealth or power had he ; 
 Wifdom and worth were all he had ; 
 
 But thefe were all to me. 
 
 The bloflbm opening to the day 
 
 The dews of heaven refin'd, 
 Could nought of purity difplay- 
 
 To emulate his mind. 
 
 The dew, the bloffoms of the tree, 
 
 With charms inconftant mine ; 
 Their charms were his, but woe to me, 
 
 Their conftancy was mine. 
 
 For Hill I try'd each fickle art, 
 
 Importunate and vain ; 
 And while his paffion touch'd my heart 
 
 I triumph'd in his pain ; 
 
 Till quite dejected with my fcorn, 
 
 He left me to my pride, 
 And fought a folitude forlorn 
 
 In fecret, where he died. 
 
 But mine the forrow, mine th,e fault, 
 
 And well my life fhall pay, 
 I '11 feek the folitude- he fought, 
 
 And flretch me where he lay- 
 
 And
 
 OLD BALLADS. 249 
 
 And there forlorn, defpairing hid, 
 
 I'll lay me down and die ; 
 'Twas fo for me that Edwin did, 
 
 And fo for him will I. 
 
 Forbid it, heaven ! the hermit cry'd, 
 
 And clafp'd her to his breaft ; 
 The wond'ring fair-one turn'd to chide j 
 
 'Twas Edwin's felf that preft. 
 
 Turn, Angelina, ever dear ; 
 
 My charmer, turn to fee 
 Thy own, thy long-loft Edwin here, 
 
 Reftor'd to love and thee. 
 
 Thus let me hold thee to my heart, 
 
 And every care refign ; 
 And mall we never, never part, 
 
 My life my all that's mine. 
 
 No, never, from this hour to part, 
 
 We'll live and love fo true ; 
 The figh that rends thy conftant heart, 
 
 Shall break thy Edwin's too. 
 
 XLir.
 
 -50 OLD BALLAD S. 
 
 XUI. 
 
 MATILDA, 
 By Mr. *Jerningbam\ 
 
 OUtrageous did the loud wind blow, 
 Acrois the founding main ! 
 The veflel toiling to an'. 4 fro, 
 Cou'd fcarce the ftorm f attain. 
 
 Matilda to her fearful breaft 
 
 Held clofe her infant dear; 
 His prefence all her fears encreas'd, 
 
 And wak'd the tender tear. 
 
 Now nearer to the grateful fhore, 
 
 The fhatter'd veflel drew : 
 The daring waves now ceafe to roar, 
 
 Now fhout th' exulting crew. 
 
 Matilda with a mother's joy 
 Gave thanks to heaven's pow'r : 
 
 How fervent me embrac'd her boy ! 
 How bleft the faving hour ! 
 
 Oh
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 251 
 
 Oh much deceiv'd and haplefs fair! 
 
 Tho' ceas'd the waves to roar, 
 Thou from that fatal moment ne'er 
 
 Did'ft tafte of pleafure more. 
 
 For ftepping forth from off the deck, 
 
 To reach the welcome ground j 
 The babe unclafping from her neck, 
 
 Plung'd in the gulph profound. 
 
 Araazement-chain'd ! her haggard eye 
 
 Gave not a tear to flow ; 
 Her bofom heav'd np confcious figh, 
 
 She flood a fculptyr'd woe. 
 
 To fnatch the child from inftant death, 
 
 Some brav'd the threat'uing main ; 
 And to recal his fleeting breath, 
 
 Try'd ev'ry art in vain. 
 
 But when the corfe firfl met her view, 
 
 Stretch'd on the pebbly ftrand : 
 Awak'ning from her trance fhe flew, 
 
 And pierc'd th' oppofing band : 
 
 With trefles difcompos'd and rude, 
 
 Fell proftrate on the ground ; 
 To th' infant's lips her lips fhe glued, 
 
 And forrow burft its bound. 
 
 Up,
 
 252 O L D B A L L A D S. 
 
 Uprifing now with frantic air, 
 
 To the wide-circling crowd, 
 Who, pity-ftruck, partook her care, 
 
 She thus difcours'd aloud : 
 
 Heard ye the helplefs infant weep ! 
 
 Saw ye the mother bold ! 
 How as flic flung him in the deep, 
 
 The billows o'er him roll'd. 
 
 May beak'd remorfe her bofom tear, 
 
 Defpair her mind up-plough ! 
 Its angry arm let juftice rear. 
 
 To dam her impious brow. 
 
 But foft, awhile fee there he lies, 
 
 Embalm'd in infant fleep : 
 Why fall the dew-drops from your eyes, 
 
 What caufe is here to weep ! 
 
 Yes, yes ! his little life is fled, 
 
 His heavelefs breaft is cold ; 
 What tears will not thy mother flied, 
 
 When thy fad tale is told ! 
 
 Ah me ! that cheek of livid hue, 
 
 If much I do not err ! 
 Thofe lips were late the rofes blue, 
 
 All, all,, my fon declare. 
 
 Strange
 
 OLD BALLADS. 253 
 
 Strange korrors chill my ev'ry vein, 
 
 A voice confus'd and wild, 
 Whifpers to this diftrafted brain, 
 
 Matilda flew her child. 
 
 She added not but funk opprefs'd 
 
 Death on her eye-lids ftole : 
 While from her much-affli&ed breaft 
 
 She figh'd her troubled foul. 
 
 XLIII. 
 A L I S I A. 
 
 By tbefaflie. 
 
 TO yon dark grove Alifia flew, 
 Juft at th* appointed hour, 
 To meet the youth whofe bofom true 
 Confefs'd her beauty's povv'r. 
 
 All that fair virtue cou'd bellow, 
 
 Or fairer virtue give, 
 Did on his face unrival'd glow, 
 
 And in his bofom live. 
 
 But not the charm of beauty's flow'r, 
 
 Or virtue's fairer charm, 
 Could in her father's foul the pow'r 
 
 Of avarice -difarm. 
 
 He
 
 *54 O L D B A L L A D S. 
 
 He bade the youth his manfion fly 
 
 And fcorn'd his ardent vow : 
 And when the tears flow'd from his eye, 
 
 He bade them fafter flow. 
 
 Alifia with a bleeding mind 
 
 Beheld the injur'd youth ; 
 And vow'd, in holy wedlock join'd, 
 
 To crown at length his truth. 
 
 As fhe forfook her native feat, 
 
 Farewell, ye fields fo fair ; 
 May bleffings ftill my father meet ! 
 
 She faid and dropt a tear. 
 
 TV opprefhon of a parent's hand, 
 
 A parent dead to fhame, 
 In her meek breaft by virtue fann'J, 
 
 Ne'er quench'd the filial flame. 
 
 Now fafe fhe reach'd th' appointed ground, 
 
 Tho' love was all her guide ; 
 But abfent when the youth fhe found, 
 
 She look'd around and figh'd. 
 
 Each breeze that ruftled o'er the tree, 
 
 Sooth 'd for a fpace her fmart ; 
 She fondly cried Oh :hat is he ! 
 
 While patted faft her heart. 
 
 The
 
 OLD BALLADS. 3-55 
 
 The pleafing images of hope, 
 
 Night's terrors now deform ; 
 While on her mind dear fceneries ope, 
 
 And raife the mental ftornu 
 
 On fome rude flone (he bow'd her head, 
 
 All helplefs and forlorn j 
 Now flarting from Jier rugged bed. 
 
 She wifh'd the ling'ring morn. 
 
 With heavy heart I now unfold 
 
 What th' abfent yoiuh befell ; 
 Who fierce befet by ruffians bold, 
 
 Opprefs'd with numbers fell.: 
 
 At length the morn difcJos'd its ray, 
 
 And calm'd Alifia's fear,; 
 She reftlefs took her various way, 
 
 DiilraSed, here and there. 
 
 Thus as fhe wander'd, wretched maid, 
 
 To mis'ry doom'd ! me found 
 A naked corfe along the fhade^ 
 
 And galh'd with many a wound. 
 
 Struck to the foul at this dread fcene^ 
 
 All motionlefs me flood ! 
 To view the raven, bird obfcene ! 
 
 Drink up the clotting blood. 
 
 What
 
 256 O L D B A L L A D S. 
 
 What horrors did her breaft invade, 
 
 When as fhe nearer drew ? 
 The features that the raven fed, 
 
 Her lover gave to view. 
 
 With fhrieks fhe rent th' affrighted air ; 
 
 To tears had fond recourfe ; 
 With frantic hand now tore her hair, 
 
 Now funk upon the corfe. 
 
 Then throwing round a troubled glance, 
 
 With madnefs' ray inflam'd ; 
 Beheld fome travellers advance, 
 
 To whom fhe thus exclaim'd : 
 
 Ye bafe inhuman train, away ! 
 
 What urg'd you to this deed ? 
 You 've turn'd my gentle love to clay, 
 
 And bade me forrow wed. 
 
 Hark, hark ! the raven Haps her wings- 
 She drinks his bipod again 
 
 Ah ! now fhe feeds on my heart-firings 
 Oh Jefu ! foothe my pain. 
 
 This fcene of woe what cou'd create 
 
 The travellers admir'd ; 
 While fhrinking at the blow of fate, 
 
 She with a groan expir'd. 
 
 XL1V.
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 257 
 
 XLIV. 
 ALLEN AND ELLA. 
 
 ON the banks of that cryftalline ftream 
 Where Thames oft' his current delays ; 
 And charms, more than poets can dream, 
 In his Richmond's bright villa furveys j 
 
 Fair Ella ! of all the gay throng 
 
 The faireft that Nature had feen, 
 Now drew every village along, 
 
 From the day me firft danc'd on the green. 
 
 Ah ! boaft not of beauty's fond power, 
 
 For fhort is the triumph, ye fair ! 
 Not fleeter the bloom of each flower; 
 
 And hope is but gilded defpair. 
 
 His affe&ion each fwain now, behold, 
 
 By riches endeavours to prove ! 
 But Ella ftill cries, What is gold, 
 
 Or wealth, when compar'd to his love ? 
 
 VOL. II. S Yes I
 
 258 O L D B A L L A D 5. 
 
 Yes ! Allen, together we '11 wield 
 Our fickles in fummer's bright day; 
 
 Together we '11 leafe o'er the field, 
 And fmile all our labours away : 
 
 In winter ! I'll winnow the wheat 
 
 As it falls from thy flail on the ground ; 
 
 That flail will be mufic as fweet 
 
 When thy voice in the labour is drown'd. 
 
 How oft* would he fpeak of his blifs ! 
 
 How oft* would he call her his maid I 
 And Allen would feal with a kifs 
 
 Every promife and vow that he faid. 
 
 But, hark, o'er the grafs-level * land, 
 The village-bells found on the plain ; 
 
 Falfe Allen ! this morn gave his hand, 
 And Ella's fond tears are in vain. 
 
 Sad Ella, too foon, heard the tale I 
 Too foon the fad caufe {he was told ! 
 
 That his was a nymph of the vale :- 
 
 That he broke his fond promife for gold. 
 
 As fhe walk'd by the margin fo green y 
 Which befringes the fweet river's fide, 
 
 How oft' was fhe languifhing feen I 
 How oft' would fhe gaze on the tide I 
 
 * The village of Peterftwn.
 
 O L t> B A L L A D S. 259 
 
 Uy the clear river, then, as fhe fate, 
 
 Which reflected herfelf and the mead ; 
 Awhile, fhe bewept her fad fate, 
 
 And the green turf ftill pillow'd her head. 
 
 There, there ! is it Ella, I fee ? 
 
 'Tis Ella, the loft, undone maid ! 
 Ah ! no, 'tis fome Ella, like me, 
 
 Some haplefs young virgin betray'd ! 
 
 Like me ! fhe has forrow'd and wept ; 
 
 Like me ! fhe has fondly believ'd ; 
 Like me ! her true promife fhe kept, 
 
 And, like me too, is juftly deceiv'd. 
 
 I come, dear companion in grief! 
 
 Gay fcenes and fond pleafures, adieu ! 
 I come ! and we '11 gather relief 
 
 From bofoms fo chafte and fo true ! 
 
 Like you ! I have mourn'd the long nightj 
 
 And wept out the day in defpair ! 
 Like you ! I have banifh'd delight, 
 
 And bofom'd a friend in my care. 
 
 v Ye meadows ! fo lovely, farewel, 
 
 Your velvet, ftill, Allen fhall tread ! 
 All deaf to the found of that knell 
 Which tolls for his Ella when dead. 
 
 S 2 Your
 
 a6o OLD BALLADS. 
 
 Your wifli will, too fure, be obey'd ; 
 
 Nor Allen her lofs mall bemoan ! 
 Soon, foon, fhall poor Ella be laid 
 
 Where her heart fliall be cold as your own. 
 
 Then, twin'd in the arms of that fair, 
 Whofe wealth has been Ella's iad fate : 
 
 As, together, ye draw the free air, 
 And a thoufarvd dear pleafures relate : 
 
 If chance, o'er my turf, as ye tread, 
 
 Ye dare to affeft a fond figh ! 
 The primrofe will ihrink her pale head, 
 
 And the violet languiili and die. 
 
 Ah ! weep not, fond maid ! 'tis in vain ; 
 
 Like the tears which you lend to the ftream ; 
 Tears ! are loft in that watery plain ; 
 
 And your lighs are Hill loft upon him. 
 
 Scarce ! echo had gather'd the found, 
 
 But fhe plung'd from her grafs-fpringing bed: 
 
 The liquid ilream parts to the ground, 
 And the mirror clos'd over her head. 
 
 The fwains of the village at eve, 
 
 Oft' meet at rhe dark-fpreading yew ; 
 
 There wonder how man could deceive 
 A bofom fo chafte and fo true. 
 
 Witk
 
 OLD BALLA D 5. 26* 
 
 With garlands, cf eVcry flower, 
 
 (Which Ella herfelf fliould have made) 
 They raiic up a ihort-living bovver ; 
 
 And, fighing ! cry, Peace to her ihade. 
 
 Then! hand-lock'd-in-hand, as they niove 
 
 The green -plotting hillock around : 
 They talk of poor Ella, and love; 
 
 And freftien, with tears, the fair ground. 
 
 Nay, wifh they had never been born, 
 
 Or liv'd the fad moment to view ! 
 When her Allen could thus be forfwora, 
 
 And his Ella could ftill b fo true. 
 
 XLV.
 
 O L D B A L L A D S, 
 
 XLV. 
 
 COLIN AND NANCY, 
 . Sj T. P. E/j. 
 
 FO R daring feats of ruftic fport, 
 And carolling his am'rous ftrains, 
 In Aram's vale was Colin fam'd 
 
 The blytheft Ihepherd of the plains. 
 
 Full oft' has Lune reftrain'd his rage, 
 
 And flowly roll'd his flood along, 
 As lift'ning to the tuneful fwain, 
 
 To catch the cadence of his fong. 
 
 Ah ruthlefs ftream of femblance falfe ! 
 
 Thy waters murmur'd to betray. 
 Hyenas thus, by nature fell, 
 
 Seem plaintive to allure their prey. 
 
 What time the flocks were fafely penn'd, 
 
 And mild the day's laft luftre grew, 
 To join the playful village youth, 
 
 Acrofs the plain young Colin flew. 
 
 Thrice
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 263 
 
 Thrice from a wych-elm's wither'd bough 
 
 A raven gave a boding croak ; 
 And thrice, in anfwer, fcreech'd an owl, 
 
 From the deep hollow of an oak. 
 
 Yet all in vain ! the ill-omen'd youth 
 
 On the cliff's fumtnit naked flood, 
 The fwains attention proudly claim'd, 
 
 Then headlong plung'd into the flood. 
 
 Weep every naiad of the ftream ! 
 
 Dafti'd on a rock, he groaning dy'd, 
 And with a lucklefs lover's blood 
 
 Polluted is your filver tide ! 
 
 Soon as the village heard the tale, 
 
 Fail to the river's fide they fled 
 Alas ! alas the day ! they cry'd, 
 
 And many a piteous tear they med. 
 
 But Nancy, Doran's daughter fair, 
 
 Her bloom the blufli of morn outvies ; 
 Her fong excels the linnet's lay, 
 
 Like dew-drops glift'ning are her eyes. 
 
 When her pale lover me beheld ! 
 
 Herfelf as pale ! in deep defpair 
 And filent woe, her hands fhe wrung, 
 
 And wildly rent her lovely hair. 
 
 S 4 And
 
 264. OLD BALLADS. 
 
 And muft we thus (me, frantic, faid) 
 Thus mult we folemnize our vows ! 
 
 Yet lhall not death my hopes bereave, 
 For, ev'n in death, I th e efpoufe ! 
 
 Then on his clay-cold corfe flie fell, 
 And clafp'd it to her breaking heart, 
 
 And dying, figh'd, I now am thine, 
 My Colin ! never more to part ! 
 
 Like two young rofes on a ftem, 
 Lopt by the pruner's hook away, 
 
 Ere half their luftre was difclos'd, 
 In withering bloom the lovers lay. 
 
 One grave receiv'd them ; where i found 
 The primrofe and the vi'let pale : 
 
 And long their haplefs fate was wept 
 By ev'ry eye in Aram's vale. 
 
 XLVI.
 
 OLD BALLADS. 265 
 
 XL VI. 
 
 WILLIAM AND FANNY. 
 By y. Robert/on. 
 
 BRIGHT was the morn, the landfcape gay, 
 inward young William rode ; 
 Joyful the village to behold, 
 His Fanny's loved abode. 
 
 Unlike his former felf he came, 
 
 In fure difguife array'd ; 
 With unlook'd joy hoping to blefs 
 
 His dear, his conftant maid. 
 
 In warblings fweet from every fpray, 
 
 The feather'd choir combine ; 
 While Love and Hope in William's breaft, 
 
 The happy concert join. 
 
 No magpye, no harm raven's note, 
 
 Sinifter boding found, 
 But thro' the air, Mufic and Love, 
 
 Bleft omens ! float around, 
 4
 
 266 OLD. BALLADS. 
 
 The village opening to his view, 
 
 His fluttering pulfc beat high, 
 Whilit tears, from Joy's rich fountain drawn, 
 
 Beam'd fparkling in his eye. 
 
 Soon fliall thefe eyes again, thank heaven, 
 
 Her angel-form behold ; 
 Soon fhall thefe wifhing arms again, 
 
 My lovely maid infold. 
 
 He faid ; when lo, in fable guife, 
 From forth the church -yard way, 
 
 A filent train with down-caft eyes, 
 Death's banners wide difplay. 
 
 The flow-tongu'd bell, with folemn toll, 
 
 A fad adieu expreft ; 
 On ev'ry face a genuine grief, 
 
 Full deeply was impreft. 
 
 Fierce as the eagle William dar'd, 
 
 When Pride its crett uprear'd ; 
 Yet melting William as the dove, 
 
 Whene'er Diftrefs appear'd. 
 
 To what kind foul are thefe fad rites, 
 
 Witn mournful rev'rence paid ? 
 A grey-hair'd peafant rais'd his eyes, 
 
 And, fighing, thus he faid : 
 
 If
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 2*7 
 
 If e'er you 've known Love's wond'rous pow'r, 
 
 The pitying tear prepare, 
 Yon grave contains the fweeteft flow'r, 
 
 E'er nipt by cold Defpair. 
 
 Not fportive lambkin on the dowa 
 
 More lively was than fhe ; 
 Not lambkin ever cropt the green, 
 
 From guileful thoughts more free. 
 
 Not apple-bloflbms in the fpring, 
 
 Cou'd with her beauties vie ; 
 More graceful than the doe her fhape j 
 
 Senfe fparkled in her eye. 
 
 Soft tho' her bofom, yet untouch'd 
 
 By Love's all-pow'rful flame, 
 Till a young fwain, of peerlefs worth, 
 
 From yon blue uplands came. 
 
 The pride of fwains fweet William was, 
 
 Thus fliepherds all agree ; 
 A youth fo manly, gentle, brave, 
 
 I ne'er again mail fee. 
 
 Each nymph beheld him with delight, 
 
 Each fwain with envious eyes ; 
 Ev'n Envy's felf might ftand excus'd, 
 
 When Fanny was the prize. 
 
 They
 
 268 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 They faw, they lov'd; fo fweet a pair 
 Ne'er grac'd our wond'ring plain, 
 
 He feem'd by heav'n for her defign'd ; 
 She for her upland fwain. 
 
 Their parents, friends, with glad accord 
 
 Did on their paflion fmile j 
 But Fate with Cruelty high-rais'd 
 
 Their hopes but to beguile. 
 
 Ah, what is happinefs ? A fly 
 
 With tinfel'd wings fo- gay : 
 Sure of the prize, we ftretch our hands, 
 
 *Tis gone ; 'tis loft for aye. 
 
 Heading the needy highland clans, 
 
 Onward, in threat'ning mood, 
 Giant Rebellion came to drench 
 
 Our peaceful fields in blood. 
 
 To fave their country, Freedom's fons 
 
 With gen'rous ardour flew ; 
 Never again, oh, may tkefe eyes 
 
 Such fcenes of horror view. 
 
 Young William's lord, to whom both love 
 
 And gratitude were bound, 
 With William, foremoft in his train, 
 
 In Freedom's ranks were found. 
 
 Conqueft
 
 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 Conqueft with ?aurels William crowns, 
 
 His worth ev'n foes approve ; 
 But, ah! tho' Conqueft crowns his arms, 
 
 Defpair awaits his love, 
 
 A 'fquire, for large poHeffions fanfd, 
 
 Saw Fanny and ador'd ; 
 For charms like her's might captivate 
 
 The heart ev'n of a lord. 
 
 He faw, and vows of ardent love, 
 
 Impatiently he preft ; 
 Poor Fanny had no heart to give, 
 
 'Twos lodg'd in William's breaft. 
 
 But curfed av'rice, age's bane, 
 
 Had froze her father's mind ; 
 She wept, (he pray'd ; nor pray'rs nor teats 
 
 Alas ! cou'd pity find. 
 
 To feeling deaf, by riches lar'd, 
 
 He laid his ftrift command ; 
 He dragg'd her to the church ; he forc'd 
 
 Her cold, her hearclefs hand. 
 
 Wealth ! what is wealth of peace depriv'd f 
 
 A glittering pois'nou-s toy ; 
 The nightfhade's jetty Ihining fruit 
 
 Allures, but to deftroy. 
 
 Seance
 
 2 7 o OLD BALLADS. 
 
 Scarce feven days gone, fince Fanny word 
 
 The hated marriage-chain } 
 And but yellreen a broken heart, 
 
 Freed Fanny from her pain. 
 
 But, Stranger, fure thofe looks of your's> 
 
 Unufual feelings fpeak ; 
 The bridle quits your trembling hands, 
 
 The blood forfakes your cheek. 
 
 Down dropt poor William like a corfe, 
 
 Upon the green-fwaird laid; 
 By pitying peafants known, he 's ftraight 
 
 To friendly roof convey'd. 
 
 Reviv'd, heart-rending fighs and groajis> 
 
 A fix'd defpair confefs ; 
 But Madnefs, fad relief ! arrives 
 
 To lighten his diftrefs. 
 
 When midnight came, from bed efcap'd, 
 
 To Fanny's grave he flew j 
 There ftretch'd, he Fanny call'd -and foon 
 
 To mis'ry bade adieu. 
 
 Gold as the lovely fair within, 
 Next morn was William found ; 
 
 Weeping, the village favv 'em laid 
 In the fame hallow'd ground. 
 
 There
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 271 
 
 There nymphs and ihepherds often meet, 
 
 To plight their vows fo true, 
 And from a fympathy of foul, 
 
 Their grave with tears bedew. 
 
 XLVIL 
 
 AMINTOR AND ANNA. 
 By the fame. 
 
 CURST with a confcious feeling mind, 
 The poor Amintor lay, 
 Within a cheerlefs jail confin'd, 
 And figh'd his hours away. 
 
 To fave a friend of means bereft, 
 
 Amintor enter'd bail ; 
 Friends oft' prove falfe ; Amintor's leffc 
 
 To languifh in a jail. 
 
 Where are thofe friends, Amintor, where 
 
 Your fummer-days could boaft ? 
 Like infefts now they difappear, 
 
 Kill'd by a wint'ry froft. 
 
 No friend, fave one, now anxious came, 
 
 To heal Misfortune's wound : 
 That friend, true to his peace and fame, 
 
 Was in his Anna found, 
 
 2 Hymefi
 
 272- O L D B A L L A D S. 
 
 Hymen and Cupid wove the chain, 
 
 That link'd her to his heart; 
 With her he half forgot his pain, 
 
 Nor felt Affliv5lion's dart. 
 
 Tho' all the charms that Beauty knows, 
 
 Were in her form expreft, 
 Yet faint h.r outward charms to thofe 
 
 That lodg'd within her brealt. 
 
 Her words, fweet as when peace is giv'n 
 
 To a departing foul, 
 Or angel-accents fent from heav'n, 
 
 Into his bofom ilole. 
 
 Ceafe, ceafe thefe unavailing fighs, 
 
 Let hope your brow unbend ; 
 Goodnefs fupreme our patience tries, 
 
 It flrikes but to amend. - 9 
 
 Affliction's cloud once overblown, 
 
 Joy, doubly joy appears ; 
 The morn o'ercaft, the noon-tide fun 
 
 A flronger brightnefs wears. 
 
 Virtue effay'd flill mounts the higher, 
 
 And nobler worth aflumes ; 
 As gold, when drofs-rid by the fire, 
 
 More pure and bright becomes. 
 
 Whila
 
 OLD BALLADS, 273 
 
 While innocence and goodnefs reign 
 
 In my Amintor's breaft, 
 Our fate with courage we'll fuftain> 
 
 And leave to heav'n the reft. 
 
 Chearful with him, me ftill appears 
 
 The mefienger of Hope j 
 When from him, to her fmother'd teafsj 
 
 She gives a boundlefs fcope. 
 
 The rofe, that erft with blooming grace 
 
 Had with the lily Ihone, 
 By grief was wither'd in her face 
 
 The lily reign'd alone. 
 
 Their loves one darling babe had crown'di 
 
 His parents belt delight ; 
 The only comfort Anna found 
 
 Each lonely widow'd night. 
 
 Like Magdalen, all radiant grace, 
 
 The fmiler at her breaft 
 She oft with bended eye would trace 
 
 Amintor's felf impreft ; 
 
 Then ! eager clafp, and gaze and weep, 
 
 And pour the honey 'd kifs, 
 Whilft fad remembrance pierc'd full deep, 
 
 With fcenes of bury'd blifs. 
 
 VOL. 1L T Son
 
 27* OLD BALLADS. 
 
 Soon as the lark falutes the day, 
 
 Each morning Anna flies, 
 To chafe corroding {plcen away, 
 
 And blefs A Hunter's eyes. 
 
 A long, long day No Anna's feen ; 
 Her abfence caufes dread ; 
 
 When filent, grief cuts far more keen- 
 She prefles a fick bed. 
 
 The tidings brought, he raving cries, 
 Oh wretch accurft ! For thee, 
 
 For thee the faithful Anna dies, 
 Her fated end I fee. 
 
 'Tis thy accurfed hand that throws 
 
 The deadly murd'rous dart ; 
 'Tis thou art author of her woes ; 
 
 Thou, thou haft broke her heart. 
 
 No more, Amintor, now complain, 
 
 Thy Anna's amply bleft; 
 Of Fortune and her glitt'ring train, 
 
 To utmoft wifh pofleil : 
 
 A kinfman carki, whofe griping hand, 
 
 When living was unkind, 
 Dying, bequeath'd her all his land, 
 
 Sore griev'd 'twas left behind. 
 
 From
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 275 
 
 From her forfaken couch Ihe fprings, 
 
 And low, enrapturM bends, 
 Whilft on rejoicing angels wings, 
 
 Her gratitude afcends. 
 
 Thanks, thanks, all-gracious heav'n ! Oh, grant> 
 
 This flood of joy I bear ; 
 Thy mercy fends me all I want, 
 
 Henceforth I '11 not defpair. 
 
 Is Anna then ordain'd to give 
 
 Amintor liberty? 
 For his lov'd fake I wifh to live, 
 
 For him well pleas'd wou'd die, 
 
 To Providence the grateful tear 
 
 Burfts from her up-rais'd eyes; 
 Nor hecatombs to heav'n appear 
 
 Such pleafing facrifice. 
 
 How faint the richeft diamonds mow ! 
 
 How languid all their fires ! 
 To thofe in Beauty's eyes which glow, 
 
 When virtuous joy infpires ! 
 
 "With tranfport wild, me eager flew 
 
 To make Amintor bleft : 
 She favv Amintor thrilling view ! 
 
 In fhrouded garment drert. 
 
 T 2 Frantic
 
 276 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 Frantic that morn he rav'd, I ne'er 
 
 Shall Anna fee again ; 
 He falls a prey to black defpair; 
 
 His heart- ftrings burft in twain. 
 
 The weaknefs which from virtue grows, 
 
 Can juftice faulty deem? 
 Such weaknefs virtue only knows, 
 
 When virtue 's in extreme. 
 
 Let callous bofoms moralize, 
 
 And frigid rules lay down, 
 They feel not who are over-wife, 
 
 Or dart the Stoic frown. 
 
 Like Niobe a-while fhe Hands, 
 
 Then finks upon the floor, 
 She lifts her eyes, fhe wrings her handy, 
 
 And never rifes more. 
 
 One fuch example here below, 
 
 (In heav'n let virtue truft) 
 Does an Hereafter plainly mow ; 
 
 God cannot be unjuft. 
 
 XLVIEb
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 277 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 DAMON AND SYLVIA. 
 By the fame. 
 
 FROM forth the church, all-blithfome, gay, 
 The youthful Damon came, 
 Handing his bride in trim array, 
 
 A fair and wealthy dame ; 
 Whilft poor forfaken Sylvia flood, 
 Her lily'd cheek devoid of blood. 
 
 Oh, Damon, Damon, perjur'd youth, 
 
 But for a moment flay, 
 Are all your vows and boafted truth 
 
 Like gofmore blown away ? 
 Give, give me back my heart again ; 
 You cannot for 'tis broke in twain- 
 
 Did not you fwear for me alone 
 
 Each vow to heav'n did rife ? 
 Did you not fwear a monarch's throne 
 
 Without me you 'd defpife ? 
 I, witlefs, thought you true as dove, 
 And by my own weigh'd Damon's U)ve. 
 
 T 3 But
 
 278 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 But wealth, that bane of conftancy, 
 
 Lur'd Damon's heart away, 
 On fwallow-wings falfe riches fly 
 
 True love can ne'er decay : 
 Had I the world to give you know, 
 That world on Damon I'd beftow. 
 
 Was there a pain^touch'd Damon's breaft, 
 
 But Sylvia doubly knew? 
 Was there a joy to make me bleft, 
 
 But took its rife from you ? 
 Was there a wifh (Why heaves this fighr)- 
 Of Damon's that I cou'd deny? 
 
 Behold the face you once fo prais'd, 
 With grief how pale, how wan ! 
 
 Thofe eyes, on which you fo have gaz'd, 
 How dim, how woe-begone ! 
 
 Cou'd you my inmoft bofom bare, 
 
 You'd Damon fee and black defpair. 
 
 But hold I came not to upbraid, 
 
 I hither came to die ; 
 Beneath the turf when Sylvia's laid, 
 
 Give but one tender figh ; 
 'Tis all I afk, 'tis all I want, 
 Happy if this fmall boon you grant, 
 
 She
 
 O L D B A L J, A D S. 279 
 
 She faid ; and ftraight a dagger aim'd,, 
 
 It quaff'd her bofom's gore ; 
 That bofom which, with love infiam'd, 
 
 Defpair had pierc'd before ; 
 Inconftant Damon felt the blow, 
 And all his future days were woe. 
 
 XLIX. 
 THE MAID OF AGHAVORE. 
 
 By the Rev. Mr. Ball. 
 
 With the laft unfuccejsful aflion, near Rathmines, pe- 
 rijhed the hopes of Charles in Ireland. This event tuas 
 Jhortly followed by the arrival of Cromwell > during ivhcje 
 lieutenancy the tragical event, recorded in the fdlowing 
 ballad, is fuppofed to have happened. 
 
 ON C E I was a lively lad, 
 As the fpringing feafon glad 
 Ere beheld in its domain, 
 Or fair Summer in her train, 
 Or rich Autumn in his year ; 
 Sing I could, as Mavis clear ; 
 Ere, alas, the grief to tell ! 
 Into chains of love I fell, 
 But now filent I muft be : 
 Pity me, fwains, pity me ! 
 Pity me, fince fhe 's no more, 
 Beauteous maid of Aghavore ! 
 
 T 4 Then
 
 280 O L D B A L L A D S, 
 
 Then I knew not this world's ftate, 
 Nor regarded turns of fate, 
 How rebellious Erin rofe, 
 Treating Albion's fons as foes ; 
 Or how fons of Albion led 
 O'er the plains difmay and dread., 
 Bidding terror to prevail 
 All around the Englifh pale ; 
 But now filent I muft be : 
 Pity me, fwains, pity me ! 
 Pity me, fmce {he's no more, 
 Beauteous mai4 of Aghavore ! 
 
 Ere to power dark Cromwell grew, 
 Only peaceful days I knew j 
 Then it was my conftant care 
 Ev'ry rura} toil to fhare j 
 To the pow'rs that guard the plough 
 Then alone I paid my vow ; 
 Love as then I had not prov'd, 
 Or the rapture to be lov'd, 
 But now filent I muft be : 
 Pity me, fwains, pity me ! 
 Pity me, fmce me 's no more, 
 Beauteous maid of Aghavore ! 
 
 O what
 
 OLD BALLADS. all 
 
 O what changes fhepherds feel ! 
 J was doom'd to carry fteel. 
 O what troubles had I mift, 
 Among rebels, royalift, 
 If I could my peace have priz'd, 
 And, as others, temporiz'd ! 
 But as yet no pains I try'd j 
 Yet I had not feen a bride j 
 
 Now all filent I muft be : 
 
 Pity me, fwains, pity me ! 
 
 Pity me, fmce me 's no mor, 
 
 Beauteous maid of Aghavore ! 
 
 To our valley foon there came, 
 As it chanc'd, a beauteous dame, 
 Looks me had, that far outvy'd 
 All our fragrant valley's pride : 
 Then, fo gentle was her foul, 
 As if hearts fhe ne'er had ftole ! 
 {Sprung from a Cromwellian chief* 
 But let Sorrow's fong be brief! 
 
 Now all filent I mould be ; 
 
 Pity me, fwains, pity me ! 
 
 Pity me, fmce me 's no more, 
 
 Beauteous maid of Aghavore 1 
 
 Oho*
 
 OLD BALLADS.. 
 
 O how happy had I been, 
 Had I fach a bride ne'er feen ! 
 All fb beauteous, as I ne'er 
 Can find matter to compare ! 
 Curls flic had, out-ftiiiuivg jet! 
 In her eyes the fun was iet 1 
 For her fliape, k was a pice, 
 Wreath'd with fragrant eglantine I 
 But now filent I muft be : 
 Pity me, fwains, pity me ! - 
 Pity me, fince flic's 110 more, 
 Beauteous maid of Aghavore ! 
 
 When I faw the fair, I burn'd 7 , 
 She my pafllon foon return'd. 
 But when foe, her father proud, 
 Heard her faith to aliens vow'd, 
 Rifing in his anger fierce, 
 Soon he did her bofom pierce 
 With that rude unrighteous fword 
 Wherewith loyal breafts he gor'd. 
 Now all njournful I nauft be : 
 Pity me, fwains, pity me ! 
 Pity me, fince he 's no more, 
 Beauteous maid of Aghavore 1 
 
 Woods,
 
 OLD BALLADS. 283 
 
 Woods, that wave on mountain-tops, 
 O'er whofe mofs the titmoufe hops, 
 Tell my tale to ruftling gales ! 
 Fountains, weep it through the vales! 
 And, with her own forrow faint, 
 Let fad Echo join my plaint ! 
 Since I 've loft the brighteft fair 
 E'er that breath'd our valley's air, 
 
 Now all mournful I mult be ; 
 
 Pity me, fwains, pity me ! 
 
 Pity me, fmce me 's no more, 
 
 Beauteous maid of AgKavore !
 
 284 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 L. 
 THE DIRGE or OFF A. 
 
 By the fame. 
 
 f&is ballad is fuppofed to be 'written by Mordrid, chief 
 f the bards in the reign cf Ediuy, king of Nortbumber- 
 laxdy lubo/e fan Qjfa <was Jlain in the battle of Half eld 
 Weed, A. D. 633. It concludes with the words of the 
 bard* 
 
 SEE my fon, my Offa dies ! 
 He who could chafe his father's foes \ 
 Where {hall the king now clofe his eyes ? 
 Where but in the tomb of woes. 
 
 'Tis there, thy ftony couch is laid ! 
 
 And there the wearied king may reft 
 Bat will not Penda's threats invade 
 
 The quiet of the monarch's breaft ? 
 
 No my fon fhall quell his rage 
 
 What have I faid ? ah me, undone ! 
 Ne'er fhall the parent's fnowy age 
 
 Recall the tender name of fon ! 
 
 O would
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 285 
 
 O would that I for thee had dy'd ! 
 
 Nor liv'd to wail thy piteous cafe ! 
 Who dar'd defy thofe looks of pride, 
 
 That mark the chiefs of Wyba's race ! 
 
 But, O my fon, I little knew 
 
 What pow'r was in that arm of might ! 
 That weeds of fuch a baleful hue 
 
 The laurel's beauteous wreath mould blight ! 
 
 Yes, my fon, the ftiaft that thee 
 
 Transfix'd, hath drawn thy father's fate ! 
 
 O how will Hengift weep to fee 
 The woes that on his line await ! 
 
 To fee my Offa's lateft pangs, 
 
 As wild in death, he bites the more ! 
 A favage wolf, with bloody fangs, 
 
 The lamb's unfpotted bofom tore ! 
 
 Who never knew to give offence, 
 
 But to revenge his father's wrong ! i 
 Some abler arm convey him hence, 
 
 And bear a father's love along ! 
 
 Alas ! this tongue is all too weak 
 
 The laft fad duties to perform ! 
 Thefe feeble arms their tafk forfake ! 
 
 Elfe fhould they rife in wrathful ftorra 
 
 Againft
 
 i86 O L D B A L L A D S. 
 
 Againft the ruthlefs rebel's head 
 
 Who dar'd fuch laurels to deftroy ; 
 To bid each virtue's hope He dead ! 
 
 And crufh a parent's only joy ! 
 
 Inter him by yon ivy'd tow'r, 
 
 And raife the note of deepeft dole ! 
 Ne'er mould a friend, in deathful hour, 
 
 Forget the chief of gen'rous foul : 
 
 And o'er the grave creel a ftone, 
 
 His worth, and lineage high to tell : 
 And, by the faithful crofs be mown 
 
 That in the faith of Chrift he fell ! 
 
 Hail ! valiant chiefs of Hatfield Wood ! 
 
 Ne'er may your blooming honours ceafe ! 
 That with unequal ftrength withftood 
 
 Th' invader of your country's peace. 
 
 Now, round this head let darknefs fall ! 
 
 Defcend, ye mafts of thund'rous hail ! 
 Ne'er mail be faid, in Edwy's hall 
 
 That troubled ghoft was heard to wail ! 
 
 Then, with his feeble arm, the fire 
 
 Into the thickeft battle flies, 
 To di'j, was all the chief's defure ; 
 
 Oppvefj'd with wcunds and grief, he dies. 
 
 And
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 287 
 
 And let the future foul of rhime, 
 
 If chance he coirs of Edwy's praife, 
 As high his quiv'ring fingers climb, 
 
 Record, that Mordrid pour'd the lays ! 
 
 LI. 
 
 ? the fame. 
 KIND ADVICE TO THE HAPPY SHEPHERD. 
 
 HAPPY fwaJn, would'ft thou be free 
 From the cares that follow me, 
 Shun the mufes 'witching train ; 
 Scorn thy pipe, and leave the plain. 
 
 For the pipe brings no relief ; 
 And the plain but echoes^grief ; 
 And the mufes tuneful fkills 
 Cannot charm thy life from ills ! 
 
 Mark ye, where yon waters flow? 
 There pines a bard, o'ercome with, woe, 
 As to the fad water's fall 
 He fings Tima?us* funeral ! 
 
 "Twas
 
 288 O L D B A L L A D S, 
 
 *Tvvas of me he learn'd the art, 
 But ah the quill hath pierc'd his heart ! 
 And haplefs they, who fondly try 
 To ling of woe as well as I ! 
 
 Now of the Stygian gulph he raves, 
 Now pores in ./Etna's fulph'rous caves, 
 *TiIl frantic Fancy refts her head 
 In the burning torrent's bed ! 
 
 Shepherd, ere it be too late, 
 Would'ft thou fhun his wayward fate, 
 Then leave the melancholy plain, 
 So malt thou live an happy fwain. 
 
 Oft, beneath the twilight trees, 
 Lurks a fadly fullen breeze ! 
 And Pan to fhapes of lucklefs pow'r 
 Oft' delegates the lonely hour, 
 
 Where the oak his gnarled root 
 Doth acrofs the pathway fhoot, 
 Or with Linden's glofly Rine 
 Laurer-trefles intertwine ; 
 
 While himfelf, to jocund dance 
 Bids the dryad-train advance, 
 Nor breaks off the frolic found, 
 'Till the tell-tale fun comes round. 
 
 Let
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 289 
 
 Let the breaft that cares opprefs 
 Dwell with folitarinefs : 
 Nor change the mufes's defert fprings, 
 For the joys that wait on kings. 
 
 Tho' by Aganippe's flreams 
 Ancient bards had golden dreams, 
 Deem not blifsful life was theirs > 
 Golden grain is choak'd with tares. 
 
 Tremblingly alive all o'er, , 
 
 Much to feel is to deplore, 
 And the foul of fenfes ftrong 
 Gives but forrovvs to the fong. 
 
 Think'ft thou Care fliall ne'er invade, 
 
 With venom fhaft, thy fecret (hade ? 
 
 In form of Love, he foftly fteals, .. ( i 
 
 And unfufpefting hearts aflails. 
 
 Or, if his way a diilant friend 
 Should to thy lonely threfhold bend, 
 Like my Timseus he may be, 
 In death, an endlefs woe to thee ! 
 
 Or if thy Fates do not defign 
 That he mould die, and thou Ihould'ft pine, 
 As I with Lycon, both may prove 
 Abfence is death to thofc that love ! 
 
 VOL. II. U But
 
 2yo OLD. BALLADS. 
 
 But it is not fo in courts i 
 
 There Cupid with light dalliance fports; 
 
 And Venus in a kind difguife 
 
 Looks milder thro' Afpafia's eyes. 
 
 If a lov'd friend mould die, 'tis there 
 Thou may 'ft with eafe the lofs repair : 
 And tho' one nymph mould faithlefs prove, 
 Another will requite thy love. 
 
 Then, hafte thee to the haunts of men j 
 Nor let the little carelefs wren, 
 As thro' the nut-tree made he hops, 
 Seduce thee to the filent copfe. 
 
 And, in fome much-frequented room* 
 May'ft thou find a tranquil tomb j 
 While thy unprifon'd fenfes fly 
 To the fphere of harmony ! 
 
 And, let the gentle'flumber fteal, 
 The fhepherd's clofing eye to feal,. 
 And bring that future life of blifs 
 For which the virtuous pant in this ! 
 
 Sweet luxury of fouls refin'd, 
 How would it fuit the vulgar mind ? 
 Let vulgar minds at diftance keep ! 
 Nor fright away the fhepherd's fleep I 
 
 LH.
 
 O L t> B A L L A D S* 291 
 
 Lit. 
 
 THE DRINKING-MATCH AT EDEN-HALL. 
 
 In Imitation of the famous ballad of Chevy Chace. 
 
 By Philip duke of Wharton. 
 
 ($ Walpole's Royal and Noble Authors, Vol. IF,' 
 page 130. edit. 1759.) 
 
 GO D profper long from being brok 
 The * Luck of Eden-hall ; 
 A doleful drinking-bout I fmg, 
 There lately did befall. 
 
 To chafe the fpleen with cup and can, 
 
 Duke Philip took his way, 
 Babes yet unborn fhall never fee 
 
 The like of fuch a day. 
 
 The ftout and ever-thi/fty duke 
 
 A vow to God did make, 
 His pleafure within Cumberland 
 
 Three live-long nights to take. 
 
 * A pint bumper at Sir Chriftopher Mufgrave's. 
 
 U 2 ' Sir
 
 492 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 Sir Mufgrave too, of Martindale, 
 
 A true and worthy knight, 
 Eftfoon with him a bargain made, 
 
 In drinking to delight. 
 
 The bumpers fwiftly pafs about, 
 
 Six in a hand went round ; 
 And with their calling for more wine, 
 
 They made the hall refound. 
 
 Now when thefe merry tidings reach'd 
 
 The earl of Harold's ears, 
 And am I (quoth he, with an oath) 
 
 Thus flighted by my peers f 
 
 Saddle my fteed, bring forth my boots, 
 I '11 be with them right quick ; 
 
 And, matter fheriff, come you too, 
 We'll know this fcurvy trick. 
 
 Lo, yonder doth earl Harold come, 
 
 (Did one at table fay) ; 
 'Tis well, reply'd the mettled duke, 
 
 How will he get away ? 
 
 When thus the earl began : Great duke, 
 I'll know how this did chance, 
 
 Without inviting me, fure this 
 You did not learn in Frafice. 
 
 One
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 293 
 
 One of us two for this offence, 
 
 Under the board (hall lie ; 
 I know thee well, a duke thou art, 
 
 So fome years hence fhall I. 
 
 But truft me, Wharton, pity 'twere 
 
 So much good wine to fpill, 
 As thefe companions here may drink, 
 
 Ere they have had their fill. 
 
 Let thou and I, in bumpers full, 
 
 This grand affair decide. 
 Accurs'd be he, duke Wharton faid, 
 
 By whom it is deny'd. 
 
 To Andrews, and to Hotham fair, 
 
 Many a pint went round, 
 And many gallant gentlemen 
 
 Lay fick upon the ground. 
 
 When, at the laft, the duke efpy'd 
 
 He had the earl fecure, 
 He ply'd him with a full pint-glafs, 
 
 Which laid him on the floor, 
 
 Who never fpoke more words than thefe, 
 
 After he downwards funk, 
 My worthy friends, revenge my fall, 
 
 Duke Wharton fees me drunk. 
 
 U 3 Then,
 
 294 O L D B A L L A D S, 
 
 Then, with a groan, duke Philip held 
 
 The fick man by the joint, 
 And faid, Earl Harold, 'Head of thee, 
 
 Would I had drank this pint. 
 
 Alack ! my very heart doth bleed, 
 
 And doth within me fink ; 
 For furely z more fober earl 
 
 Did never fwallow drink. 
 
 With that the fherifF, in a rage, 
 
 To fee the earl fo fmit, 
 Vow'd to revenge the dead-drunk peer 
 
 Upon renown'd Sir Kit. 
 
 Then ftepp'd a gallant 'fquire forth, 
 
 Of vifage thin and pale, 
 Lloyd was his name, and of Gang-hall, 
 
 Faft by the river Swale ; 
 
 Who faid he would not have it told 
 
 Where Eden river ran, 
 That unconcern'd he fliould fit by ; 
 
 So, fheriiF, I'm your man. 
 
 Now when thefe" tidings reach'd the room, 
 
 Where the duke lay in bed, 
 How that the 'fquire fuddenly 
 
 Upon the floor was laid : 
 
 O heavj
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 295 
 
 heavy tidings ! (quoth the duke) 
 Cumberland witnefs be, 
 
 J have not any captain more 
 Of fuch account as he. 
 
 Like tidings to earl Thanet came, 
 
 Within as mort a fpace, 
 How that the under-fheriff too 
 
 Was fallen from his place. 
 
 Now God be with him (faid the earl) 
 Sith 'twill no better be, 
 
 1 truft I have within my town, 
 
 As drunken knights as he. 
 
 Of all the number that were 
 
 Sir Bains he fcorn'd to yield ; 
 But with a bumper in his hand, 
 He ftagger'd o'er the field. 
 
 Thus did this dire contention end, 
 
 And each man of the {lain 
 Were quickly carried oft" to fleep 
 
 Their fenfes to regain. 
 
 God blefs the king, the duchefs fat, 
 
 And keep the land in peace, 
 And grant that drunkennefs henceforth 
 
 'Along noblemen may ceafe. 
 
 U4 And
 
 296 O L D B A L L A D S. 
 
 And likewife blefs our royal prince, 
 
 The nation's other hope, 
 And give us grace for to defy 
 
 The Devil and the Pope. 
 
 LIII. 
 The DOWY DEN. 
 
 A lady bearing her lover bad fallen in Jingle combat nvitb 
 bis rival, calls to her attendant boy. 
 
 OSee you not yon bonny fteed, 
 That eats beneath the tree ? 
 O tarry not, my little boy, 
 But bring him faft to me. 
 
 The boy ran nimbly to the place, 
 
 Where fed the milk-white fteed, 
 And brought him to the lady fair, 
 
 Who mounted him with fpeed. 
 
 The whip (he ply'd the courfer flew, 
 
 The duft in clouds did rife, 
 And foon fhe fpy'd the * Dowy Den 
 
 Where her true lover lies. 
 
 * Dowy fignifies difmal. 
 
 But
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 297 
 
 But now the panting fteed fhe ftop'd, 
 
 And on the ground fhe fprung, 
 Then hied her to the fatal place, 
 
 With trees and bufhes hung. 
 
 A dreary place, I ween, it was, 
 
 And mournful to behold ; 
 Above the winds did doleful blow, 
 
 Below dark waters roll'd. 
 
 All cold and pale the youth was laid 
 
 Faft by the rueful flood ; 
 A breathlefs corfc outftretch'd he lay. 
 
 And all befmear'd with blood. 
 
 O fight of woe ! fhe cry'd, and ran 
 
 To where her lover lay, 
 Then, like an afpin, quiv'ring flood, 
 
 And gaz'd on the cold clay. 
 
 That breaft where oft thou, love-fick maid ! 
 
 Haft laid thy languid head, 
 Doth now prefent the ghaftly wound 
 
 Made by the deathful blade. 
 
 Thofe yellow locks, that oft with joy 
 
 Thy lily hand hath bound, 
 Tofs'd by the wind, now Icofely flow 
 
 Negledled on the ground. 
 
 i How
 
 2^8 O L D B A L L AD S. 
 
 How cold and wan at noon that cheek, 
 Where glow'd at morn the rofe ! 
 
 Thofe beauteous eyes the {leap of death 
 J)oth now for ever clofe. 
 
 In filent anguilli fix'd fhe flood, 
 
 And o'er the body hung, 
 Then {looping, grafp'd and kifs'd the hand, 
 
 And fighing, thus begun : 
 
 Nor wealth nor grandeur pow'r could have 
 
 My faithful heart to fhake ; 
 For thee it beat, O much-lov'd boy ! 
 
 For thee it now doth break. 
 
 Why did thy wrathful rival think 
 
 His fword could us disjoin ? 
 Did he not know that love had made 
 
 My life but one with ihine ? 
 
 Then haughty baron, know it now, 
 
 Nor hope I '11 be thy bride ; 
 With this dear youth I joy to die, 
 
 Contemn thy pomp and pride. 
 
 And thou, my father, come and fee 
 
 How low thy daughter lies : 
 From croffing virtuous lore, behold. 
 
 What dire misfortunes rife, 
 
 O bap-
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 299 
 
 O haplefs youth ! But ah ! no more 
 
 Her fault'ring tongue could fay ; 
 Then foftly funk upon his breaft, 
 
 And breath'd her foul away. 
 
 LIV. 
 DUNCAN. A FRAGMENT. 
 
 SAW ye the Thane o'meikle pride, 
 Red anger in his eye ? 
 J faw him not, nor care, he cry'd ; 
 Red anger frights na' me. 
 
 For I have fluid whar honour bade, 
 
 Tho' Death trod on his heel : 
 Mean is the creft that ftoops to fear j 
 
 Nae fie may Duncan feel. 
 
 Hark ! hark ! or was it but the wind 
 
 That thro' the ha' did fing ? 
 Hark ! hark ! agen : a warlike ftiout 
 
 The black woods round do ring, 
 
 Tis na' for nought, bald Duncan cry'd, 
 
 Sic fhoutings on the wind : 
 Syne up he ftarted frae his feat, 
 
 A thrang o' fpears behind.
 
 3co OLD BALLADS. 
 
 Hafle, hafte, my valiant hearts, he faid, 
 
 Anes mare to fallow me ; 
 We '11 meet yon fliouters by the burn ; 
 
 I guefs wha they may be. 
 
 Bat wha is he that fpeeds fae faft, 
 Frae the flaw-marching thrang ? 
 
 Sae~frae the mirk cloud moots a beam, 
 The flty's blue face alang. 
 
 Some meflenger it is, mayhap ; 
 
 Then not of peace, I trow : 
 My mailer, Duncan, bade me rin. 
 
 And fay thefe words to you. 
 
 Reflore agen that bluiming rofe, 
 
 Your rude hand pluck'd awa' ; 
 Reftore again his Mary fair, 
 
 Or you fhall rue the fa*. 
 
 Three ftrides the gallant Duncan tuik, 
 
 And fhuik his forward fpear : 
 Gaetell thy mafler, beardlefs youth, 
 
 We are na' wont to fear. 
 
 He comes na' on a waflel rout 
 
 Of revel, fport, and play ; 
 Our fwords gart fame proclaim us men 
 
 Lang ere this rucfu' day. 
 
 The
 
 OLD BALLADS. 301 
 
 The rofe I pluck'd, of right is mine ; 
 
 Our hearts together grew 
 Like twa fvveet rofes on ae fta'k 
 
 Frae hate to love fhe flew. 
 
 Swift as a winged fhaft he fpe-d : 
 
 Bald Duncan laid, in jeer, 
 Gae tell thy mafter, beardlefs youth, 
 
 We are na' wont to fear. 
 
 He comes na' on a waflel rout, 
 
 Of revel, /port, and play ; 
 Our fwords gart fame proclaim us ro< 
 
 Lang ere this ruefu' day. 
 
 The rofe I pluck'd, of right Is mine ; 
 
 Our hearts together grew 
 Like twa fweet rofes on ae fta'k 
 
 Frae hate to love Ihe flew. 
 
 He ftamp'd his foot upo' the ground, 
 
 And thus in wrath did fay : 
 God ftrik my faal if frae this field 
 
 We baith in life fhall gae. 
 
 He wav'd his hand ; the pipes they play'd, 
 
 The targets clatter'd round, 
 And now between the meeting faes 
 
 Was little fpace of ground, 
 
 But
 
 362 OLD BALLADS* 
 
 But wha is fhe that rins fae faft ? 
 
 Her feet nae flap they find ; 
 Sae fwiftly rides the milky cloud 
 
 Upon the fimmef's wind. 
 
 Her face, a mantle fcreen'd afore^ 
 
 She (how'd of lily hue : 
 Sae frae the gray mill breaks the fun 
 
 To drink the morning-dew. 
 
 Alake, my friends ! what fight is this ? 
 
 Oh, flap your rage, fhe cry'd : 
 Whar love with honey'd lip fhould be, 
 
 Mak not a breach fae wide. 
 
 Can then my uncle draw his fword, 
 
 My hufband's breaft to bleid ? 
 Or can my fweet lord do to him 
 
 Sic foul and ruthlefs deid ? 
 
 Bethink ye, uncle, of the time 
 
 My gray-hair'd father died : 
 Frae whar your fhrill horn fliuik the wood, 
 
 He fent for you wi' fpeed : 
 
 My brother, gard my bairn, he faid j 
 
 She has nae father foon : 
 Regard her, Donald, as your ain't 
 
 I'll afk nae ither boon. 
 
 Would
 
 O L D B A L L A S. 30$ 
 
 Would then my uncle force my love, 
 
 Whar love it cou'd na' be, 
 Or wed me to the man I hate ? 
 
 Was this his care of me ? 
 
 Can thefe brave men, who but of late 
 
 Together chas'd the deer, 
 Againft their comrades bend their bows, 
 
 In bluidy hunting here ? 
 
 She fpake, while trickling ran the tear* 
 
 Her blufhing cheek alang ; 
 And filence, like a heavy cloud, 
 
 O'er a* the warriors hang. 
 
 Syne ftapt the red-hair'd Malcom faith, 
 
 Threefcore his years and three j 
 Yet a' the ftrength of ftrongeft youth 
 
 In fie an eild had he : 
 
 Nae pity was there in his breafl ; 
 
 For war alane he lo'd ; 
 His gray een fparkled at the fight 
 
 Of plunder, death, and bluid. 
 
 What ! lhall our hearts of fteel, he faid, 
 
 Bend to a woman's fang ? 
 Or can her words our honour quit 
 
 For fie difhoneft wrang ? 
 
 For
 
 304 O L D B A L L A D S, 
 
 For this did a' thefe warriors come, 
 
 To hear an idle tale; 
 And o'er our death-accuftom'd arms 
 
 Shall filly tears prevail ? 
 
 They gied a ftiout, their bows they tuik, 
 They claih'd their fteely fwords 
 
 Like the loud waves of Bara's more j 
 There was nae room for words. 
 
 A cry the weeping Mary gied : 
 
 O uncle ! hear my prayer : 
 Heed na' that man of bluidy look ; 
 
 She had nae time for mair j 
 
 For in the midft anon there came 
 
 A blind, unweeting dart, 
 That glanc'd frae aft" her Duncan's targe. 
 
 And ftrack her to the heart. 
 
 A while me ftagger'd, fyne me fell, 
 
 And Duncan fee'd her fa' : 
 Aftound he flood ; for in his limbs 
 
 There was nae power at a'. 
 
 The fpear he meant at faes to fling, 
 
 Stood fix'd within his hand : 
 His lips, half open, cou'd na' ipeak : 
 
 His life was at a Hand. 
 
 Sac
 
 OLD BALLADS. 305 
 
 Sae the black ftump of fome auld aik, 
 
 With arms in triumph dight, 
 Seems to the traveller like a man, 
 
 Ceetera defunt. 
 
 LV. 
 THE FAIR PENITENT. 
 
 YE mountains fo dreary and dread, 
 To whom I fo often repair, 
 In pity fall down on my head, 
 
 And fnatch me at once from defpair. 
 
 In mercy, ye fkies, to my woes, 
 
 Let your thunders avengingly roll, 
 And death kindly hufh to repofe 
 
 The ^Etna that burfts on my foul. 
 
 Twelve moons have I fcarcely been wed, 
 
 And honour'd with Beverly's name : 
 Yet how has the conjugal bed 
 
 Been fteep'd in pollution and fhame ! 
 
 VOL. II. X To
 
 3 o6 OLD BALLADS. 
 
 To the fbndeft and worthieft youth, 
 All fpotted and perjur'd I ftand ; 
 
 And this ring, which once fwore to my truth, 
 Now deadens, thro' guilt, on my hand. 
 
 Perdition quick fall on the hour 
 That firft I faw Clerimont's face, 
 
 And fatally gave him a power 
 
 To plunge me in endlefs difgrace. 
 
 From Time's fwiftly-filvering wing 
 
 This inftant O let it be torn ; 
 And pluck from Remembrance a fting, 
 
 Too bitter by far to be borne. 
 
 Once white as the moon's pureft ray, 
 This bofom could confcioully heave, 
 
 Defpife every thought to betray, 
 And deteft every wilh to deceive. 
 
 Once crown'd with contentment and reft, 
 My days held the happieft race ; 
 
 And the night faw me equally bleft, 
 In my Beverly's honeft embrace : 
 
 But now, one continued difguife, 
 I'm hackney'd in falfehood and art , 
 
 And teach every glance of my eyes 
 To conceal every wi(h of my heart. 
 
 To
 
 O L D B A L L A D S. 30; 
 
 To meet with poor Beverley's kifs, 
 
 What tranfport appears in my air ! 
 Tho* his breaft, once the pillow of blifs, 
 
 Swells only with death and defpair. 
 
 If a look is by accident caught, 
 
 I 'm filPd with a thoufand alarms 
 And Clerimont fires every thought, 
 
 When I melt e'en in Beverley's arms. 
 
 Great Ruler of all things above, 
 
 Whom Father of mercies we deem, 
 Let duty direft me to love 
 
 Where reafon compels my efleem. 
 
 Yet how to thy throne mall I run ; 
 
 For pardon, how can I exclaim ; 
 When every renewal of fun 
 
 Beholds a renewal of fhame ! 
 
 Nay, now while the guilt I deteft, 
 
 My confcience fo dreadfully wrings ; 
 This Clerimont grows on my brealt. 
 
 And infenfibly twifts round the {brings. 
 
 Diflra&ion, this inftant repair, 
 
 And feize the leaft atom of brain ; 
 For nature no longer can bear 
 
 This incredible fulncfs ef pain ! 
 
 Let
 
 3 o8 O L D B A L L A D 5. 
 
 Let mercy employ its own time, 
 I dare not look upward that way ; 
 
 For unlefs I deiift from my crime, 
 *Tis blasphemy furely to pray. 
 
 FINIS.
 
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