'* : ' * jn --C \^ Yi^. a$g r_i x ^il.. /.>. -% J* ^ * rt ./ gV^fC 1 ! ' ^^Ay/ ^^S, RELIQUES OF ANCIENT ENGLISH POETRY: CONSISTING OF <>!& fetrotr iSallalis, Sbongsf, AND OTHER PIECES OF OUR EARLIER POETS TOGETHER WITH SOME FEW OF LATER DATE. BY THOMAS PERCY, LORD BISHOP OF DROMORE. A NEW EDITION. IN THREL VOLUMES. VOL. II. LONDON: L. A. LEWIS, 125, FLEET-STREET. MDCCCXXXIX. LONDON : PRINTED BY MAURICE, CLARK, & CO. FENCHURCH-STREET. Stack CONTENTS OF VOLUME THE SECOND. BOOK THE FIRST. Page 1. Richard of Almaigne 1 2. On the Death of K. Edward 1 6 3. An original Ballad by Chaucer 11 4. The Turnament of Tottenham 13 5. For the Victory at Agincourt 26 6. The Not-browne Mayd 28 7. A Balet by the Earl Rivers 45 8. Cupid's Assault. By Lord Vaux 48 9. Sir Aldiugar 53 10. The Gaberlunzie Man, Scottish. By K. James V. . . 63 11. On Thomas Lord Cromwell 67 12. Harpalus. An ancient English Pastoral 71 13. Robin and Makyne. An ancient Scottish Pastoral . . 76 14. Gentle Herdsman, tell to me 82 15. K. Edward IV. and the Tanner of Tamworth .... 87 16. As ye came from the Holy Land 97 17. Hardy knute. A Scottish Fragment. By Sir J. Bruce 101 BOOK THE SECOND. 1. A Ballad of Luther, the Pope, a Cardinal, and a Hus- bandman 119 2. John Anderson my Jo. A Scottish Song . . . .127 3. Little John Nobody 129 4. Q. Elizabeth's Verses, while Prisoner at Woodstock . 134 5. The Heir of Linne 135 6. Gascoigne's Praise of the Fair Bridges, afterwards Lady Sandes 145 7. Fair Rosamond. By Thomas Delone 151 8. Queen Eleanor's Confession 164 VI CONTENTS. Page 9. The Sturdy Rock 169 10. The Beggar's Daughter of Bednal Green 171. An Essay on the word FIT, and the ancient Ballad- singing , 183 11. Fancy and Desire. By the Earl of Oxford . . . .188 12. Sir Andrew Barton 190 13. Lady Anne Bothwell's Lament. A Scottish Song . . 207 14. The Murder of the King of Scots 210 15. A Sonnet by Q. Elizabeth 214 16. The K. of Scots and Andrew Browue. By W. Elderton 217 17. The Bonny Earl of Murray. A Scottish Song . . .223 18. Young Waters. A Scottish Song 226 19. MaryAmbree 230 20. Brave Lord Willoughby 235 21. Victorious Men of Earth. By James Shirley .... 240 22. The Winning of Cales 241 23. The Spanish Lady's Love 245 24. Argentileand Curan. By W. Warner 250 25. Corin's Fate 266 26. Jane Shore 268 27. Corydon's doleful Knell 281 BOOK THE THIRD. Essay on the Metre of Pierce Plowman's Visions . . 286 1. The Complaint of Conscience 285, 303 2. Plain Truth and Blind Tgnorance 309 3. The Wandering Jew 316 4. The Lye. By Sir Walter Raleigh 323 5. Verses (viz. two Sonnets) by K. James 1 327 6. K. John and the Abbot of Canterbury 329 7. You meaner Beauties. By Sir H. Wotton . . . .335 8. The Old and Young Courtier 336 9. Sir John Suckling's Campaigne 341 10. To Althea from Prison. By Col. Lovelace .... 344 11. The Downfal of Charing Cross 346 12. Loyalty Confined. By Sir Roger L'Estrange . . . 349 Page 13. Verses by King Charles 1 353 14. The Sale of Rebellious Houshold Stuff 357 15. The Baffled Knight, or Lady's Policy 362 16. Why so pale ? By Sir John Suckling 370 17. Old Tom of Bedlam. Mad Song the first . . . . . 371 18. The Distracted Puritan. Mad Song the second . . . 375 19. The Lunatic Lover. Mad Song the third .... 379 20. The Lady Distracted with Love. Mad Song the fourth 382 21. The Distracted Lover. Mad Song the fifth .... 384 22. The Frantic Lady. Mad Song the sixth 386 23. Lilli-burlero. By Lord Wharton 388 24. The Braes of Yarrow. In imitation of the ancient Scottish manner. By W. Hamilton 392 25. Admiral Hosier's Ghost. By Mr. Glover .... 398 26. Jemmy Dawson. By Mr. Shenstone 403 27. The Glossary 409 Though some make slight of LIBELS, yet you may see by them how the wind sits : as, take a straw and throw it up into the air, you may see by that which way the wind is, which you shall not do by casting up a stone. More solid things do not show the complection of the times so well as BALLADS and Libels. SELDEN'S TABLE-TALK. RELI QUES ANCIENT POETRY, SERIES THE SECOND. BOOK I. I. of gllmafgne, " A BALLAD made by one of the adherents to Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, soon after the battle of Lewes, which was fought May 14, 1264," affords a curious spe- cimen of ancient satire, and shows that the liberty as- sumed by the good people of this realm, of abusing their kings and princes at pleasure, is a privilege of very long standing. 2 RICHARD OF ALMAIGNE. To render this antique libel intelligible, the reader is to understand that just before the battle of Lewes, which proved so fatal to the interests of Henry III., the barons had offered his brother Richard, king of the Romans, 30,0001. to procure a peace upon such terms as would have divested Henry of all his regal power, and therefore the treaty proved abortive. The consequences of that battle are well known : the king, prince Edward his son, his bro- ther Richard, and many of his friends, fell into the hands of their enemies ; while two great barons of the king's party, John Earl of Warren, and Hugh Bigot, the king's Justiciary, had been glad to escape into France. In the 1st stanza, the aforesaid sum of thirty thousand pounds is alluded to ; but, with the usual misrepresentation of party malevolence, is asserted to have been the exorbi- tant demand of the king's brother. With regard to the 2d stanza, the reader is to note that Richard, along with the earldom of Cornwall, had the honours of Wallingford and Eyre confirmed to him on his marriage with Sanchia, daughter of the Count of Provence, in 1243. Windsor Castle was the chief fortress belong- ing to the king, and had been garrisoned by foreigners ; a circumstance which furnishes out the burthen of each The 3d stanza alludes to a remarkable circumstance which happened on the day of the battle of Lewes. After the battle was lost, Richard, king of the Romans, took re- fuge in a windmill, which he barricadoed, and maintained for some time against the barons, but in the evening was obliged to surrender. See a very full account of this in the Chronicle of Mailros. Oxon. 1684. p. 229. The 4th stanza is of obvious interpretation : Richard, who had been elected king of the Romans in 1256, and had afterwards gone over to take possession of his dignity, was in the year 1259 about to return into England, when RICHARD OF ALMAIGNE. 3 the barons raised a popular clamour, that he was bringing with him foreigners to overrun the kingdom : upon which he was forced to dismiss almost all his followers, otherwise the barons would have opposed his landing. In the 5th stanza, the writer regrets the escape of the Earl of Warren ; and in the 6th and 7th stanzas, insinuates that, if he and Sir Hugh Bigot once fell into the hands of their adversaries, they should never more return home ; a circumstance which fixes the date of this ballad ; for, in the year 1265, both these noblemen landed in South Wales, and the royal party soon after gained the ascendant. See Holinshed, Rapin, &c. The following is copied from a very ancient MS. in the British Museum. [Harl. MSS. 2253. s. 23.] This MS. is judged, from the peculiarities of the writing, to be not later than the time of Richard II. ; th being every where ex- pressed by the character J> ; they is pointed, after the Saxon manner, and the i hath an oblique stroke over it. Prefixed to this ancient libel on government is a small design, which the engraver intended should correspond with the subject. On the one side a Satyr, (emblem of Petulance and Ridicule,) is trampling on the ensigns of royalty; on the other, Faction, under the mask of Liberty, is exciting Ignorance and Popular Rage to deface the royal image ; which stands on a pedestal inscribed MAGNA CHART A, to denote that the rights of the king, as well as those of the people, are founded on the laws ; and that to attack one, is in effect to demolish both. SITTETH alle stille, ant herkneth to me ; The kyng of Alemaigne, bi mi leaute, Ver. 2, kyn. MS. B2 RICHARD OF ALMAIGNE. Thritti thousent pound askede he For te make the pees in the countre, Ant so he dude more. Eichard, thah thou be ever trichard, Tricthen shalt thou never more. Richard of Alemaigne, whil that he wes kying, He spende al is tresour opon swyvyng, Haveth he nout of Walingford oferlyng, a/j^A; ^0 Let him habbe, ase he brew, bale to dryng, > Ui^s* Maugre Wyndesore. Richard, thah thou be ever, &c. / The kyng of Alemaigne wende do ful wel, He saisede the mulne for a castel, t-~-<^ 15 With harje sharpe swerdes he grounde the stel, He wende that the sayles were mangonel To helpe Wyndesore. Richard, thah thou be ever, &c. The kyng of Alemaigne gederede ys host, Makede him a castel of a mulne post, Wende with is prude, ant is mucjiele host, Brohte from Alemayne mony sori gost To store Wyndesore. Richard, thah thou be ever, &c. 25 By God, that is aboven ous, he dude muche synne, That lette passen over see the erl of Warynne ; RICHARD OF ALMAIGNE. 5 He hath robbed Engelond, the mores, ant th fenne, The gold, ant the selver, and y-boren henne, For love of Wyndesore. 30 Richard, thah thou be ever, &c. Sire Simond de Mountfort hath suore bi y s chyn, Hevede he nou here the erl of Waryn, Shuld he never more come to is yn, Ne with sheld, ne with spere, ne with other g y n, 35 To help of Wyndesore. Richard, thah thou be ever, &c. Sire Simond de Montfort hath suqre bi ys cop, Heveda he no,u here Sire Hue de Bigot : l hesnulde grante here twelfmoneth scot 40 HShulde he never more with his sot pot To helpe Wyndesore. Richard, thah thou be ever, &c. A, '&*, Be the luef, be the loht, sire Edward, Thou shalt ride sporeles o thy ly-ard 45 the ryhte way to Dovere-ward, Shalt thou never more breke foreward ; Ant that reweth sore -<~<+-> Edward, thou dudest as a shrewar>3, oAl^Tw Forsoke thyn en^es lo?fe. 50 Richard, &c. V. 40, g'te here. MS. i. e. grant their. Vide Glos. V. 44, this stanza was omitted in the former editions. 6 ON THE DEATH OF *#* This ballad will rise in its importance with the reader, when he finds that it is even believed to have oc- casioned a law in our Statute-Book, viz. "Against slan- derous reports or tales, to cause discord betwixt king and people." (Westm. Primer, c. xxxiv. anno 3. Edw. I.) That it had this effect, is the opinion of an eminent wri- ter. See Observations upon the Statutes, &c. 4to. 2d edit. 1766, p. 71. However, in the Harl. Collection may be found other satirical and defamatory rhymes of the same age, that might have their share in contributing to this first law against libels. II. of 3&. a^lc Whych of all thys bachelery 25 Were best worthye To wed hur to hys fere. Upstyrt thos gadelyngys wyth ther lang staves , And sayd, Randol the refe, lo ! thys lad raves ; Ver. 20. It is not very clear in the MS. whether it should be routs or confers. THE TURNAMENT OP TOTTENHAM. 17 Boldely amang us thy dozter he craves ; 30 We er rycher men than he, and mor gode haves Of cattell and corn ; hat I schal be alway redy in my ryzt, If that it schuld be thys day sevenyzt, 35 Or elles zet to morn. Then sayd Randolfe the refe, Ever be he waryd, That about thys carpyng lenger wold be taryd : I wold not my dozter, that scho were miscaryd, But at hur most worschip I wold scho were maryd ; 40 Therfor a Turnament schal begynne Thys day sevenyzt, Wyth a flayl for to fyzt : And ' he ' that is most of myght Schal brouke hur wyth wynne. 45 Whoso berys hym best in the turnament, Hym schal be granted the gjre be the comon assent, For to wynne my dozter wyth ' dughtynesse ' of dent, And ' coppell ' my brode-henne l that ' was brozt out of Kent : And my dunnyd kowe, 50 For no spens wyl I spare, For no cattell wyl I care, He schal have my gray mare, And my spottyd sowe. V. 48, dozty. MS. V. 49, coppeld. We still use the phrase " a copple-crowned hen." 18 THE TURNAMENT OP TOTTENHAM. t*3i ,^/<*^ Ther was many ' a ' bold lad ther bodyes to bede : 55 Than thay toke thayr leve, and homward they zede ; And all the weke afterward graythed trier we'de, Tyll it come to the day, that thay suld do ther dede. They armed tham hi matts ; Thay set on ther nollys, . (rt^td&L* 60 For to kepe ther pollys, Gode blake bollys, For batryng of bats. Thay sowed tham in schepeskynnes, for thay schuld not brest : Ilk-on toke a blak hat, insted of a crest : 65 ' A basket or a panyer before on ther brest,' And a flayle in ther hande ; for to fyght prest, <-*tA Furth gon thay fare : Ther was kyd mekyl ftps, $b*^ Who schuld best fend hys cors : 70 He that had no gode hors, He gat hym a mare. Sych another gadryng have I not sene oft, When all the gret company com rydand to the croft : Tyb on a gray mare was set up on loft 75 On a sek ful of fedyrs, for scho schuld syt soft, V. 57, gayed. PC. V. 66 is wanting in MS. and supplied from PC. V. 72, he borrowed him. PC. V. 76, the MS. had once sedys, i. e. seeds, which appears to have been altered to fedyrs, or feathers. Bedwell's copy has senvy, i. e. mustard- seed. THE TURNAMENT OF TOTTENHAM. 19 And led ' till the gap.' For cryeng of the men Forther wold not Tyb then, Tyl scho had hur brode hen 80 Set in hur Lap. A gay gyrdyl Tyb had on, borowed for the nonys, And a garland on hur hed ful of rounde bonys, And a broche on hur brest ful of ' sapphyre ' stonys, Wyth the holy-rode tokenyng, was wrotyn for the nonys ; 85 For no ' spendings' thay had spared. When joly Gyb saw hur thare, He gyrd so hys gray mare, ' That scho lete a fowkin' fare At the rereward. 90 I wow to God, quoth Herry, I schal not lefe behynde, May I mete wyth Bernard on Bayard the blynde, Ich man kepe hym out of my wynde, For whatsoever that he be, before me I fynde, I wot I schall hym greve. 95 Wele sayd, quoth Hawkyn, And I wow, quoth Dawkyn, May I mete wyth Tomkyn, Hys flayle I schal hym reve. 99 V. 77, And led hur to cap. MS. V. 83, Bedwell's PC. has ruel-bones. V. 84, safer stones. MS. V. 85, wrotyn, j. e. wrought. PC. reads written. V. 86, no catel [perhaps chate(] they had spared. MS. V. 89, Then . . . faucon, MS. 20 THE TUKNAMENT OP TOTTENHAM. I make a vow, quoth Hud, Tyb, son schal thou se, Whych of all thys bachelery ' granted ' is the gre : I schal scomfet thaym all, for the love of the ; In what place so I come thay schal have dout of me, Myn armes ar so clere : I here a reddyl, and a rake, 105 Poudred wyth a brenand drake, And three captells of a cake ^- In ycha cornere. I vow to God, quoth Hawkyn, yf ' I ' have the gowt, Al that I fynde in the felde 'thrustand' here aboute, Have I twyes or thryes redyn thurgh the route, III In ycha stede ther thay me se, of me thay schal have doute, When I begyn to play. I make avowe that I ne schall, But yf Tybbe wyl me call, 115 Or I be thryes don fall, Ryzt onys com away. Then sayd Terry, and swore be hys crede ; Saw thou never yong boy forther hys body bede, For when thay fyzt fastest and most ar in drede, 120 I schall take Tyb by the hand, and hur away lede : I am armed at the full ; In myn armys I here wele V. 101, grant. MS. V. 109, yf he have. MS. V. 110, the MS. literally has th r . sand here. THE TURXAMEXT OF TOTJEXHAM. 21 '- '^tfr^pA. doz trogh, and a pele, A sadyll wythout a panell, 125 Wyth a fles of woll. I make a vow, quoth Dudman, and swor be the stra, Why Is me ys left my ' mare,' thou gets hurr not swa ; For scho ys wele schapen, and lizt as the rae, 7V.T-*-* Ther is no capul in thys myle befor hur schal ga ; 1 30 '&<*** Sche wuf ne nozt begyle : Sche wyl me bere, I dar say, On a lang somerys day, Fro Hyssylton to Hakenay, Nozt other half myle. 135 I make a vow,,' quoth Perkyn, thow speks of cold rost, I schal wyrch ' wyselyer ' without any bost : Five of the best capulys, that ar in thys ost, I wot I schal thaym wynne, and bryng thaym to my cost, And here I grant thaym Tybbe. 140 Wele boyes here ys he, That wyl fyzt, and not fle, For I am in my jolyte, Wyth so forth, Gybbe. When thay had ther vowes made, furth can thay hie, 1 45 Wyth flayles, and homes, and trumpes mad 01 tre : Ther were all the bachelerys of that eontre ; Thay were dyzt in aray, as thaymselfes wold be : V. 128, raertb. MS. V. 137, swyselior. MS. V. 146, flailes, and haruisse. PC. 22 THE TURNAMENT OF TOTTENHAM. Thayr baners were ful bryzt Of an old rotten fell ; 150 The cheveron of a plow-mell ; And the schadow of a bell, ' Quartred ' wyth the mone lyzt. I wot yt 'was' no chylder game, whan thay togedyr met, When icha freke in the feld on hys feloy bet, 155 And layd on styfly, for nothyng wold thay let, And foght ferly fast, tyll ther horses swet, And few wordys spoken. Ther were flayles al so slatred, Ther were scheldys al to flatred, 160 Bollys and dysches al to schatred, And many hedys brokyn. There was clynkyng of cart-sadelys, and clatteryng of Cannes ; Of fele frekys in the feld brokyn were their fannes ; 1 65 Of sum were the hedys brokyn, of sum the brayn- pannes, And yll were thay besene, or thay went thanns, Wyth swyppyng of swepyls : Thay were so wery for-foght, Thay myzt not fyzt mare oloft, But creped about in the ' croft,' 1 70 As thay were croked crepyls. V. 151, The chiefe. PC. V. 153, Poudred. MS. V. 154, yt ys. MS. V. 168, The boyes were. MS. V. 170, creped then about in the croft. MS. THE TURNAMENT OT TOTTENHAM. 23 Perkyn was so wery, that he began to loute ; Help, Hud, I am ded in thys ylk rowte : An hors for forty pens, a gode and a stoute ! That I may lyztly come of my noye oute, 175 For no cost wyl I spare. He styrt up as a snayle, And hent a capul be the tayle, And ' reft ' Dawkin hys flayle, And wan there a mare. 1 80 Perkyn wan five, and Hud wan twa : Glad and blythe thay ware, that they had don sa ; Thay wold have tham to Tyb, and present hur with tha : The Capulls were so wery, that thay myzt not ga, But styl gon thay stond. 185 Alas ! quoth Hudde, my joye I lese : Mee had lever then a ston of chese, That dere Tyb had al these, And wyst it were my sond. Perkyn turnyd hym about in that ych thrang, 190 Among those wery boyes he wrest and he wrang ; He threw tham doun to the erth, and thrast tham When he saw Tyrry away wyth Tyb fang, [amang, And after hym ran ; Off his horse he hym drogh, 195 And gaf hym of hys flayl inogh : V. 179, razt. MS. V. 185, stand. MS. V. 189, sand. MS. V. 190, ilk throDg. PC. 24 THE TURNAMENT OP TOTTENHAM. ! quoth Tyb', and lugh, Ye er a dughty man. ' Thus' thay tugged, and rugged, tyl yt was nere nyzt : All the wyves of Tottenham came to see that sy^zt^ 200 Wyth wyspes, and kexis, and rys'cnys' there lyztv '"" To fetch hom ther husbandes, that were tham trouth plyzt; And sum brozt gret harwos, Ther husbandes hom to fetch, -; -, ! ,-L^T Sum on dores, and sum on hech, ' f "' 205 Sum on hyrdyllys, and som on crech, J^- And sum on whele-barows. Thay gaderyd Perkyn about, ' on ' everych syde, And grant hym ther ' the gre,' the more was hys pryde : Tyb and he, wyth gret ' mirth,' homward con thay ryde, And were al nyzt togedyr, tyl the morn tyde ; 211 And thay ' to church went : ' So wele hys nedys he has sped, That dere Tyb he hath ' wed ; The prayse-folk, that hur led, 215 Were of the Turnament. V. 199, Thys. MS. V. 204, hom for to fetch. MS. V. 208, about 'everych side. MS. V. 209, the gre, is wanting in MS. V. 210, mothe. MS. V. 212, And thay ifere assent. MS. V. 214, had wed. MS. V. 215, The cheefemen. PC. THE TURNAMEXT OF TOTTENHAM. 25 To that ylk fest com many for the nones ; come hyphalte, and some trippand ' thither' on U l*f ; thestonys: Sum a staf in hys hand, and sum two at onys; Of sum where the hedes broken, of some the schulder bonys ; 220 With sorrow come thay thedyr. Wo was Hawkyn, wo was Kerry, Wo was Tomkyn, wo was Terry, And so was all the bachelary, When thay met togedyr. 225 * At that fest thay wer servyd with a ryche aray, Every fy ve and fy ve had a cokenay ; And so thay sat in jolyte al the lung day ; And at the last thay went to bed with ful gret deray : Mekyl myrth was them among ; 230 In every corner of the hous Was melody delycyous For to here precyus Of six menys song, f V. 218, trippand on. MS. * In the former impressions, this concluding stanza was only given from Bedwell's printed edition ; but it is here copied from the old MS. wherein it has been since found, separated from the rest of the poem by several pages of a money-account, and other heterogeneous matter. t Six-men's song, i. e. a song for six Voices. So Shakspeare uses Three-man song-men, in his Winter's Tah, act iii. sc. 3, to denote men that could sing Catches composed for three Voices. Of this sort are Weelkes's Madrigals mentioned below, book ii. song 9. So again Shakspeare has Three-men beetle ; i.e. a beetle or rammer worked by three men, 2 Hen. IV. act i. sc. 3. VOL. II. C 26 FOR THE VICTORY AT AGINCOURT. V. jpor fyz Ftctorg at &gmcourt. That our plain and martial ancestors could wield their swords much better than their pens, will appear from the following homely rhymes, which were drawn up by some poet -laureate of those days to celebrate the immortal vic- tory gained at Agincourt, Oct. 25, 1415. This song or hymn is given merely as a curiosity, and is printed from a MS. copy in the Pepys collection, vol. i. fol. It is there accompanied with the musical notes, which are copied in a small plate at the end of this volume. Deo gratias Anglia redde pro victoria ! OWRE kynge went forth to Normandy, With grace and myzt of chivalry ; The God for him wrouzt marvelously, Wherefore Englonde may calle, and cry 5 Deo gratias : Deo gratias Anglia redde pro victoria. He sette a sege, the sothe for to say, To Harflue toune with ryal aray ; That toune he wan, and made a fray, 10 That Fraunce shall rywe tyl domes day. Deo gratias, fyc. FOR THE VICTORY AT AGINCOURT. 27 Then went owre kynge, with alle his oste, Thorowe Fraunce for all the Frenshe boste ; He spared ' for ' drede of leste, ne most, 1 5 Tyl he come to Agincourt coste. Deo ffratias, fyc. Than for sothe that knyzt comely In Agincourt feld he fauzt manly, Thorow grace of God most myzty 20 He had both the felde, and the victory : Ther dukys, and erlys, lorde and barone, Were take, and slayne, and that wel sone, And some were ledde in to Lundone 25 With joye, and merthe, and grete renone. Deo ffratias, 8fc. Now gracious God he save owre kynge, His peple, and all his wel wyllynge, Gef him gode lyfe, and gode endynge, 30 That we with merth mowe savely synge Deo ffratias : Deo ffratias Anglia redde pro victoria. c 2 28 THE NOT-BROWNE MAYD. VI. Jlot=23rofone The sentimental beauties of this ancient ballad have always recommended it to readers of taste, notwithstanding the rust of antiquity which obscures the style and expres- sion. Indeed, if it had no other merit than the having afforded the ground-work to Prior's Henry and Emma, this ought to preserve it from oblivion. That we are able to give it in so correct a manner, is owing to the great care and exactness of the accurate editor of the Prolusions, 8vo. 1760; who has formed the text from two copies found in two different editions of Arnolde's Chronicle, a book supposed to be first printed about 1521. From the co- py in the Prolusions the following is printed, with a few additional improvements gathered from another edition of Arnolde's book* preserved in the public library at Cambridge. All the various readings of this copy will be found here, either received into the text, or noted in the margin. The references to the Prolusions will show where they occur. In our ancient folio MS. described in the preface, is a very corrupt and defective copy of this ballad, which yet afforded a great improvement in one passage. See v. 310. It has been a much easier task to settle the text of this poem, than to ascertain its date. The ballad of the Nut- * This (which my friend Mr. Farmer supposes to be the first edition) is in folio : the folios are numbered at the bottom of the leaf: the song begins at folio 75. The poem has since been col- lated with a very fine copy that was in the collection of the late James West, Esq. ; the readings extracted thence are denoted thus ' Mr. W.' THE XOT-BROWXE MAYD. 29 brotcne Mayd was first revived in The Muses Mercury for June 1707? 4to., being prefaced with a little " Essay on the old English Poets and Poetry:" in which this poem is concluded to be " near 300 years old," upon reasons which, though they appear inconclusive to us now, were sufficient to determine Prior ; who there first met with it. However, this opinion had the approbation of the learned "NVanley, an excellent judge of ancient books. For that whatever related to the reprinting of this old piece was referred to Wanley, appears from two letters of Prior's preserved in the British Museum, [Harl. MSS. No. 3777.] The editor of the Prolusions thinks it cannot be older than the year 1500, because in Sir Thomas More's tale of The Serjeant, &c. which was written about that time, there appears a same- ness of rhythmus and orthography, and a very near affinity of words and phrases, with those of this ballad. But this reasoning is not conclusive ; for if Sir Thomas More made this ballad his model, as is very likely, that will account for the sameness of measure, and in some respect for that of words and phrases, even though this had been written long before : and, as for the orthography, it is well known that the old printers reduced that of most books to the standard of their own times. Indeed, it is hardly probable that an antiquary like Arnolde would have inserted it among his historical Collections, if it had been then a modern piece ; at least, he would have been apt to have named its author. But to show how little can be inferred from a resemblance of rhythmus or style, the Editor of these volumes has in his ancient folio MS. a poem on the victory of Flodden-field, written in the same numbers, with the same alliterations, and in orthography, phraseology, and style nearly resembling the Visions of Pierce Plow- man, which are yet known to have been composed above 160 years before that battle. As this poem is a great cu- riosity, we shall give a few of the introductory lines : 30 THE NOT-BROWNE MAYD. " Grant gracious God, grant me this time, That I may 'say, or I cease, thy selven to please ; And Mary his mother, that maketh this world ; And all the seemlie saints, that sitten in heaven ; I will carpe of kings, that conquered full wide, That dwelled in this land, that was alyes noble ; Henry the seventh, that soveraigne lord," &c. With regard to the date of the following ballad, we have taken a middle course, neither placed it so high as Wanley and Prior, nor quite so low as the editor of the Prolusions : we should have followed the latter in dividing every other line into two, but that the whole would then have taken up more room than could be allowed it in this volume. BE it ryght, or wrong, these men among On women do complayne ;* Affyrmynge this, how that it is A labour spent in vayne, To love them wele ; for never a dele 5 They love a man agayne : For late a man do what he can, Theyr favour to attayne, Yet, yf a newe do them persue, Theyr first true lover than 10 Laboureth for nought ; for from her thought He is a banyshed man. Ver. 2, woman. Prolusions, and Mr. West's copy. V. 11, her, i. e. their. * My friend, Mr. Farmer, proposes to read the first lines thus, as a Latinism : Be it right or wrong, 'tis men among, On women to complayne. THE NOT-BROWXE MAYD. 31 I say nat nay, but that all day It is bothe writ and sayd That womans faith is, as who sayth, 15 All utterly decayd ; But, neverthelesse, ryght good wytnesse In this case might be layd, That they love true, and continue : Recorde the Not-browne Mayde : 20 Which, when her love came, her to prove, To her to make his mone, Wolde nat depart : for in her hart She loved but hym alone. Than betwaine us late us dyscus 25 What was all the manere Betwayne them two : we wyll also Tell all the payne, and fere, That she was in. Nowe I begyn, So that ye me answere ; 30 Wherefore, all ye, that present be I pray you, gyve an ere. " I am the knyght; I come by nyght, As secret as I can ; Sayinge, Alas ! thus standeth the case, 35 I am a banyshed man." SHE. And I your wyll for to fulfyll In this wyll nat refuse ; 32 THE NOT-BROWNE MA YD. Trustying to shewe, in wordes fewe, That men have an yll use 40 (To theyr own shame) women to blame, And causelesse them accuse ; Therfore to you I answere nowe, All women to excuse, Myne owne hart dere, with you what chere ? 45 I pray you tell anone ; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone. HE. It standeth so; a dede is do Wherof grete harme shall growe : 50 My destiny is for to dy A shamefull deth, I trowe; Or elles to fle : the one must be. None other way I knowe, But to withdrawe as an outlawe, 55 And take me to my bowe. Wherfore, adue, my owne hart true ! None other rede I can : For I must to the grene wode go, Alone, a banyshed man. 60 SHE. Lord, what is thys worldys blysse, That changeth as the mone ! V. 63, The somers. Prol. THE NOT-BROWNE MAYD. 33 My somers day in lusty may Is derked before the none. I here you say, farewell : Nay, nay, 65 We depart nat so sone. Why say ye so ? wheder wyll ye go ? Alas ! what have ye done ? All my welfare to sorrowe and care Sholde chaunge, yf ye were gone ; 70 For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone. HE. I can beleve, it shall you greve, And somewhat you dystrayne ; But, aftyrwarde, your paynes harde 75 Within a day or twayne Shall sone aslake ; and ye shall take Comfort to you agayne. Why sholde ye ought? for, to make thought, Your labour were in vayne. 80 And thus I do ; and pray you to, As hartely, as I can ; For I must to the grene wode go, Alone, a banyshed man. SHE. Now, syth that ye have shewed to me 85 The secret of your mynde, I shall be playne to you agayne, Lyke as ye shall me fynde. c 3 34 THE NOT-BROWNE MAYD. Syth it is so, that ye wyll go, I wolle not leve behynde ; 90 Shall never be sayd, the Not-browne Mayd Was to her love unkynde : Make you redy, for so am I, Allthough it were anone ; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde 95 I love but you alone. HE. Yet I you rede to take good hede What men wyll thynke, and say : Of yonge, and olde it shall be tolde, That ye be gone away, 100 Your wanton wyll for to fulfill, In grene wode you to play ; And that ye myght from your delyght No lenger make delay. Rather than ye sholde thus for me 105 Be called an yll woman, Yet wolde I to the grene wode go, Alone, a banyshed man. SHE. Though it be songe of old and yonge, That I sholde be to blame, 1 10 Theyrs be the charge, that speke so large In hurtynge of my name : V. 91, Shall it netrer. Prol. and Mr. W. V. 94, Although!. Mr. W. THE NOT- BROWNE MA YD. 35 For I wyll prove, that faythfulle love It is devoyd of shame ; In your dystresse, and hevynesse, 115 To part with you, the same : And sure all tho, that do not so, True lovers are they none ; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone. 120 HE. I counceyle you, remember howe, It is no maydens lawe, Nothynge to dout, but to renne out To wode with an outlawe : For ye must there in your hand here 125 A bowe, redy to drawe ; And, as a thefe, thus must you lyve, Ever in drede and awe ; Wherby to you grete harme myght growe : Yet had I lever than, 130 That I had to the grene wode go, Alone, a banyshed man. SHE. I thinke nat nay, but as ye say, It is no maydens lore : But love may make me for your sake, 1 35 As I have sayd before V. 117, To shewe all. Prol. and Mr. W. V. 133, I say nat. Prol. and Mr. W. 36 THE NOT-BROWNE MAYD. To come on fote, to hunt, and shote To gete us mete in store ; For so that I your company May have, I aske no more : 140 From which to part, it maketh my hart As colde as ony stone ; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone. HE. For an outlawe this is the la we, 145 That men hym take and bynde ; Without pyte, hanged to be, And waver with the wynde. If I had nede, (as God forbede !) What rescous coud ye fynde ? 150 Forsoth, I trowe, ye and your bowe For fere wolde drawe behynde : And no mervayle ; for lytell avayle Were in your counceyle than : Wherefore I wyll to the grene wode go, 155 Alone, a banyshed man. SHE. Ryght wele knowe ye, that women be But feble for to fyght ; No womanhede it is indede To be bolde as a knyght : 160 V. 138, and store. Camb. copy. V. 150, socours. Prol. and Mr. W. THE NOT-BROWNE MAYD. 37 Yet, in such fere yf that ye were With enemyes day or nyght, I wolde withstande, with bowe in hande, To greve them as I myght, And you to save ; as women have 165 From deth ' men ' many one : For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone. HE. Yet take good hede ; for ever I drede That ye coude nat sustayne 1 70 The thornie wayes, the depe valeies, The snowe, the frost, the rayne, The colde, the hete : for dry, or wete, We must lodge on the playne ; And, us above, none other rofe 175 But a brake bush, or twayne : Which sone sholde greve you, I beleve ; And ye wolde gladly than That I had to the grene wode go, Alone, a banyshed man. 180 SHE. Syth I have here bene partynere With you of joy and blysse, V. 162, and night. Camb. copy. V. 164, to helpe ye with my myght. Prol. and Mr. W. V. 172, frost and rayne. .Mr. \V V. 174, Ye must. Prol. 38 THE NOT-BROWNE MAYD. I must also parte of your wo Endure, as reson is : Yet am I sure of one plesure ; 185 And, shortely, it is this : That, where ye be, me semeth, parde, I coude nat fare amysse. Without more speche, I you beseche That we were sone agone ; 190 For, in my mynde; of all mankynde I love but you alone. HE. If ye go thyder, ye must consyder, Whan ye have lust to dyne, There shall no mete be for you gete, 195 Nor drinke, here, ale, ne wyne. Ne shetes clene, to lye betwene, Made of threde and twyne ; None other house, but leves and bowes, To cover your bed and myne, 200 myne harte swete, this evyll dyete Sholde make you pale and wan ; Wherfore I wyll to the grene wode go, Alone, a banyshed man. SHE. Among the wylde dere, such an archere, 205 As men say that ye be, V. 190, shortley gone. Prol. and Mr. W. V. 196, Neyther here. Prol. and Mr. W. V. 201, Lo myn. Mr. W. THE NOT-BROWNE MA YD. 39 Ne may nat fayle of good vitayle, Where is so grete plente : And water clere of the ryvere Shall be full swete to me ; 210 With which in hele I shall ryght wele Endure, as ye shall see ; And, or we go, a bedde or two I can provyde anone ; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde 215 I love but you alone. HE. Lo yet, before, ye must do more, Yf ye wyll go with me : As cut your here up by your ere, Your kyrtel by the kne ; 220 With bowe in hande, for to withstande Your enemyes, yf nede be : And this same nyght before day-lyght, To wode-warde wyll I fle. ; Yf that ye wyll all this fulfill, 225 Do it shortely as ye can : Els wyll I to the grene wode go, Alone, a banyshed man. SHE. I shall as nowe do more for you Than longeth to womanhede ; 230 V. 207, May ye nat fayle. Prol. Ib. May nat fayle. Mr. W. V. 219, above your ere. Prol. V. 220, above the kne. Prol. and Mr. W. V. 223, the same. Prol. and Mr. W. 40 THE NOT-BROWNE MAYD. To shorte my here, a bow to here, To shote in tyme of nede. my swete mother, before all other ' For you I have most drede: But nowe, adue ! I must ensue, 235 Where fortune doth me lede. All this make ye : Now let us fle ; The day cometh fast upon ; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone. 240 HE. Nay, nay, nat so ; ye shall nat go, And I shall tell ye why, Your appetyght is to be lyght Of love, I wele espy : For, lyke as ye have sayed to me, 245 In lyke wyse hardely Ye wolde answere whosoever it were, In way of company. It is sayd of olde, Sone hote, sone colde ; And so is a woman. 250 Wherfore T to the wode wyll go, Alone, a banyshed man. SHE. Yf ye take hede, it is no nede Such wordes to say by me ; V. 251, For I must to the grene wode go. Prol. and Mr. W. V. 253, yet is. Camb. copy : perhaps for yt is. THE NOT-BROWNE MA YD. 41 For oft ye prayed, and longe assayed, 255 Or I you loved, parde : And though that I of auncestry A barons daughter be, Yet have you proved howe I you loved A squyer of lowe degre ; 260 And ever shall, whatso befall ; To dy therfore* anone ; For in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone. HE. A barons chylde to be begylde ! 265 It were a cursed dede ; To be felawe with an outlawe ! Almighty God forbede ! Yet beter were, the pore squyere Alone to forest yede, 270 Than ye sholde say another day, That, by my cursed dede, Ye were betray'd : Wherfore, good mayd, The best rede that I can, Is, that I to the grene wode go, 275 Alone, a banyshed man. SHE. Whatever befall, I never shall Of this thyng you upbrayd : V. 262, dy with him. Editor's MS. V. 278, outbrayd. Prol. and Mr. W. * i. e. for this cause ; though I were to die for having loved you. 42 THE NOT-BBOWKE MAYD. But yf ye go, and leve me so, Than have ye me betrayd. 280 Remember you wele, howe that ye dele ; For, yf ye, as ye sayd, Be so unkynde, to leve behynde, Your love, the Not-browne Mayd, Trust me truly, that I shall dy 285 Sone after ye be gone ; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone. HE. Yf that ye went, ye sholde repent ; For in the forest nowe 290 I have purvayed me of a mayd, Whom I love more than you ; Another fayrere, than ever ye were, I dare it wele avowe ; And of you bothe eche sholde be wrothe 295 With other, as I trowe : It were myne ese, to lyve in pese ; So wyll I, yf I can ; Wherfore I to the wode wyll go, Alone, a banyshed man. 300 SHE. Though in the wode I undyrstode Ye had a paramour, V. 282, ye be as. Prol. and Mr. W. V. 283, Ye were un- kynde to leve me behynde. Prol. and Mr. W. THE NOT-BROWNE MA YD. 43 All this may nought remove my thought, But that I wyll be your : And she shall fynde me soft, and kynde, 305 And courteys every hour ; Glad to fulfyll all that she wyll Commaunde me to my power : For had ye, lo, an hundred mo, ' Of them I wolde be one ; ' 310 For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone. HE. Myne own dere love, I se the prove That ye be kynde, and true ; Of mayde, and wyfe, in all my lyfe, 315 The best that ever I knewe. Be mery and glad, be no more sad, The case is chaunged newe ; For it were ruthe, that, for your truthe, Ye sholde have cause to rewe. 320 Be nat dismayed ; whatsoever I sayd To you, whan I began ; I wyll nat to the grene wode go, I am no banyshed man. V. 310, So the Editor's MS. All the printed copies read, Yet wold I be that one. V. 315, of all. Prol. and Mr. W. V. 325, gladder. Prol. and Mr. W. 44 THE NOT-BROWNE MAYD. SHE. These tydings be more gladd to me, 325 Than to be made a quene, Yf I were sure they sholde endure : But it is often sene, Whan men wyll breke promyse, they speke The wordes on the splene. 330 Ye shape some wyle me to begyle, And stele from me, I wene : Than were the case worse than it was, ' And I more wo-begone : For, in my mynde, of all mankynde 335 I love but you alone. HE. Ye shall nat nede further to drede ; I wyll nat dysparage You, (God defend !) syth ye descend Of so grete a lynage. 340 Now undyrstande ; to Westmarlande, Which is myne herytage, I wyll you brynge ; and with a rynge, By way of maryage I wyll you take, and lady make, 345 As shortely as I can : Thus have you won an erlys son, And not a banyshed man. V. 340, grete lynyage. Prol. and Mr. W. V. 347, Then have. Prol. " V. 348, And no banyshed. Prol. and Mr. W. BALET BY EARL RIVERS. 45 AUTHOR. Here may ye se, that women be In love, meke, kynde, and stable : 350 Late never man reprove them than, Or call them variable ; But, rather, pray God, that we may To them be comfortable ; Which sometyme proveth such, as he loveth, 355 Yf they be charytable. For syth men wolde that women sholde Be meke to them each one ; Moche more ought they to God obey, And serve but hym alone. 360 V. 352, This line wanting in Prol. and Mr. W. V. 355, proved loved. Prol. and Mr. W. Ib. as loveth. Camb. V. 357, Forsoth. Prol. and Mr. W. VII bg tftt The amiable light in which the character of Anthony Widville, the gallant Earl Rivers, has been placed by the elegant author of the Catalogue of Noble Writers, inte- rests us in whatever fell from his pen. It is presumed, therefore, that the .insertion of this little sonnet will be pardoned, though it should not be found to have much poetical merit. It is the only original poem known of that nobleman's ; his more voluminous works being only trans- 46 BALET BY EARL RIVERS. lations. And if we consider that it was written during his cruel confinement in Pomfret castle, a short time before his execution in 1483, it gives us a fine picture of the com- posure and steadiness with which this stout earl beheld his approaching fate. This ballad we owe to Rouse, a contemporary historian, who seems to have copied it from the earl's own hand- writing. In tempore, says this writer, incarcerationis apud Pontem-fractum edidit unum BALET in anglicis, ut mihi monstratum est, quod subsequitur sub his verbis : Sftlttt tofiat mtWfiltg, &c. Rossi Hist. 8vo. 2d edit. p. 213. In Rouse the second stanza, &c. is imperfect, but the defects are here supplied from a more perfect copy, printed in " An- cient Songs, from the Time of K. Henry III. to the Re- volution," p. 87- This little piece, which perhaps ought rather to have been printed in stanzas of eight short lines, is written in imitation of a poem of Chaucer's, that will be found in Urry's edit. 1721, p. 555, beginning thus : " Alone walkyng, In thought plainyng, And sore sighyng, All desolate. My remembrying Of my livyng My death wishyng Both erly and late. " Infortunate Is so my fate That wote ye what, Out of mesure My life I hate ; Thus desperate In such pore estate, Doe I endure," &c. SUMWHAT musyng, And more mornyng, In remembring The unstydfastnes ; This world being Of such whelyng, Me contrarieng, What may I gesse ? BALET BY EARL RIVERS. 47 I fere dowtles, Remediles, 5 Is now to sese My wofull chaunce. [For unkyndness, Withouten less, And no redress, Me doth avaunce, With displesaunce, To my grevaunce, And no suraunce Of remedy.] 10 Lo in this traunce, Now in substaunce, Such is my dawnce, Wyllyng to dye. Me thynkys truly, Bowndyn am I, And that gretly, To be content : Seyng playnly , Fortune doth wry 1 5 All contrary From myn entent. My lyff was lent Me to on intent, Hytt is ny spent. Welcome fortune ! But I ne went Thus to be shent, But sho hit ment ; such is hur won. 20 Ver. 15, That fortune. Rossi Hist. V. 19, went. i. e. weened. 48 CUPID'S ASSAULT. VIII. J's Assault: bp Hortr Faux. The reader will think that infant Poetry grew apace be- tween the times of Rivers and Vaux, though nearly con- temporaries ; if the following song is the composition of that Sir Nicholas (afterwards Lord) Vaux, who was the shining ornament of the court of Henry VII., and died in the year 1523. And yet to this lord it is attributed by Puttenham, in his Art of Eng. Poesie, 1589, 4to., a writer commonly well in- formed : take the passage at large. " In this figure [Coun- terfait Action] the Lord Nicholas Vaux, a noble gentleman and much delighted in vulgar making, and a man other- wise of no great learning, but having herein a marvelous facilitie, made a dittie representing the Battayle and As- sault of Cupide, so excellently well, as for the gallant and propre application of his fiction in every part, I cannot choose but set downe the greatest part of his ditty, for in truth it cannot be amended. ' When Cupid scaled,' &c." p. 200. For a farther account of Nicholas Lord Vaux, see Mr. Walpole's Noble Authors, vol. i. The following copy is printed from the first edit, of Sur- rey's Poems, 1557, 4to. See another song of Lord Vaux's in the preceding volume, book ii. no. 2. WHEN Cupide scaled first the fort, Wherein my hart lay wounded sore ; The batry was of such a sort, That I must yelde or die therfore. CUPID'S ASSAULT. 49 There sawe I Love upon the wall, 5 How he his banner did display : Alarme, alarme, he gan to call : And bad his souldiours kepe aray. The armes, the which that Cupide bare, Were pearced hartes with teares besprent, 10 In silver and sable to declare The stedfast love, he alwayes ment. There might you se his band all drest In colours like to white and blacke, With powder and with pelletes prest 15 To bring the fort to spoile and sacke. Good-wyll, the maister of the shot, Stode in the rampire brave and proude, For spence of pouder he spared not Assault ! assault ! to crye aloude. 20 There might you heare the cannons rore ; Eche pece discharged a lovers loke ; Which had the power to rent, and tore In any place whereas they toke. And even with the trumpettes sowne ; 25 The scaling ladders were up set, And Beautie walked up and downe, With bow in hand, and arrowes whet. VOL. II. D 50 CUPID'S ASSAULT. Then first Desire began to scale, And shrouded him under ' his' targe : 30 As one the worthiest of them all, And aptest for to geve the charge. Then pushed souldiers with their pikes, And halberdes with handy strokes ; The argabushe in fleshe it lightes, 35 And duns the ayre with misty smokes. And, as it is the souldiers use When shot and powder gins to want, I hanged up my flagge of truce, And pleaded up for my lives grant. 40 When Fansy thus had made her breche, And Beauty entred with her band, With bagge and baggage, sely wretch, I yelded into Beauties hand. Then Beautie bad to blow retrete, 45 And every souldier to retire, And mercy wyll'd with spede to fet Me captive bound as prisoner. Madame, quoth I, sith that this day Hath served you at all assayes, 50 Ver. 30. her. ed. 1557 : so. ed. 1585, CUPID'S ASSAULT. 51 I yeld to you without delay Here of the fortresse all the kayes. And sith that I have ben the marke, At whom you shot at with your eye ; Nedes must you with your handy warke, 55 Or salve my sore, or let me die. %* Since the foregoing song was first printed off, reasons have occurred, which incline me to believe that Lord Vaux, the poet, was not the Lord Nicholas Vaux who died in 1523, but rather a successor of his in the title. For, in the first place, it is remarkable that all the old writers men- tion Lord Yaux, the poet, as contemporary or rather pos- terior to Sir Thomas Wyat and the Earl of Surrey, neither of which made any figure till long after the death of the first Lord Nicholas Vaux. Thus Puttenham, in his Art of English Poesie, 1589, in p. 48, having named Skelton, adds, " In the latter end of the same kings raigne, [Henry VIII.] sprong up a new company of courtly Makers, [poets,] of whom Sir Thomas Wyat th' elder, and Henry Earl of Surrey, were the two chieftaines, who having travailed into Italic, and there tasted the sweet and statel} measures and stile of the Italian poesie . . greatly polish- ed our rude and homely manner of vulgar poesie In the same time, or not long after, was the Lord Nicholas Vaux, a man of much facilitie in vulgar makings."* Webbe, in his Discourse of English Poetrie, 1586, ranges them in the following order, " The Earl of Surrey, the Lord Vaux, Norton, Bristow." And Gascoigne, in the place quoted in the first volume of this work, [b. ii. no. ii.] * t. e. Compositions in English. D2 52 CUPID'S ASSAULT. mentions Lord Vaux after Surrey. Again, the style and measure of Lord Vaux's pieces seem too refined and polished for the age of Henry VII., and rather resemble the smoothness and harmony of Surrey and Wyat, than the rude metre of Skelton and Hawes : but what puts the matter out of all doubt, in the British Museum is a copy of his poem, / lothe that I did love, [vid. vol. i. ubi supra,] with this title, " A dyttye or sonet made by the Lord Vaus, in the time of the noble Quene Marye, representing the image of Death." Harl. MSS. No. 1703, $ 25. It is evident, then, that Lord Vaux the poet was not he that flourished in the reign of Henry VII., but either his son, or grandson : and yet, according to Dugdale's Baronage, the former was named Thomas, and the latter William : but this difficulty is not great, for none of the old writers mention the Christian name of the poetic Lord Vaux,* except Puttenham ; and it is more likely that he might be mistaken in that lord's name, than in the time in which he lived, who was so nearly his contemporary. Thomas Lord Vaux, of Harrowden in Northampton- shire, was summoned to parliament in 1531. When he died does not appear ; but he probably lived till the latter end of Queen Mary's reign, since his son William was not summoned to parliament till the last year of that reign, in 1558. This lord died in 1595. See Dugdale, vol. ii. p. 304. Upon the whole, I am inclined to believe that Lord Thomas was the poet. * In the Paradise of Dainty Devises, 1596, he is called simply " Lord Vaux the elder." SIR ALDISGAR. 53 IX. Sbfr This old fabulous legend is given from the Editor's folio MS. with conjectural emendations, and the insertion of some additional stanzas to supply and complete the story. It has been suggested to the Editor, that the author of this poem seems to have had in his eye the story of Gun- hilda, who is sometimes called Eleanor, and was married to the Emperor (here called King) Henry. OUR king he kept a false stewarde, Sir Aldingar they him call ; A falser steward than he was one, Servde not in bower nor hall. He wolde have layne by our comelye queene, 5 Her deere worshippe to betraye : Our queene she was a good woman, And evermore said him naye. Sir Aldingar was wrothe in his mind, With her hee was never content, 10 Till traiterous meanes he colde devyse, In a fyer to have her brent. There came a lazar to the kings gate, A lazar both blinde and lame : 54 SIR ALDINGAR. He tooke the lazar upon his backe, 15 Him on the queenes bed has layne. " Lye still, lazar, wheras thou lyest, Looke thou goe not hence away ; He make thee a whole man and a sound In two howers of the day."* 20 Then went him forth sir Aldingar, And hyed him to our king : " If I might have grace, as I have space, Sad ty dings I could bring." Say on, say on, sir Aldingar, 25 Saye on the soothe to mee. " Our queene hath chosen a new new love, And shee will have none of thee. If shee had chosen a right good knight, The lesse had beene her shame ; 30 But she hath chose her a lazar man, A lazar both blinde and lame." If this be true, thou Aldingar, The tyding thou tellest to me, Then will I make thee a rich rich knight, 35 Kich both of golde and fee. * He probably insinuates that the king should heal him by his power of touching for the King's Evil. SIR ALDINGAB. 55 But if it be false, sir Aldingar, As God nowe grant it bee ! Thy body, I sweare by the holye rood, Shall hang on the gallows tree. 40 He brought our king to the queenes chamber, And opend to him the dore. A lodlye love, king Harry says, For our queene dame Elinore ! If thou were a man, as thou art none, 45 Here on my sword thoust dye ; But a payre of new gallowes shall be built, And there shalt thou hang on hye. Forth then hyed our king, I wysse, And an angry man was hee ; 50 And soone he found queene Elinore, That bride so bright of blee. Now God you save, our queene, madame, And Christ you save and see ; Here you have chosen a newe newe love, 55 And you will have none of mee. If you had chosen a right good knight, The lesse had been your shame : But you have chose you a lazar man, A lazar both blinde and lame. 60 56 SIR ALDINGAR. Therfore a fyer there shall be built, And brent all shalt thou bee. " Now out alacke ! said our comly queene, Sir Aldingar's false to mee. Now out alacke ! sayd our comlye queene, 65 My heart with griefe will brast. I had thought swevens had never been true ; I have proved them true at last. I dreamt in my sweven on thursday eve, In my bed wheras I laye, 70 I dreamt a grype and a grimlie beast Had carryed my crowne awaye ; My gorgett and my kirtle of golde, And all my faire head-geere : And he wold worrye me with his tush 75 And to his nest y-beare : Saving there came a little * gray ' hawke, A merlin him they call, Which untill the grounde did strike the grype, That dead he downe did fall. 80 Gifie I were a man, as now I am none, A battell wold I prove, Ver. 77, see below, ver. 137. SIR ALDINGAR. 57 To fight with that traitor Aldingar ; Att him I cast my glove. But seeing Ime able noe battell to make, 85 My liege, grant me a knight To fight with that traitor, sir Aldingar, To maintaine me in my right." ' Now forty dayes I will give thee To seeke thee a knight therin : 90 If thou find not a knight in forty dayes Thy bodye it must brenn." Then shee sent east, and shee sent west, By north and south bedeene : But never a champion colde she find, 95 Wolde fight with that knight soe keene. Now twenty dayes were spent and gone, Noe helpe there might be had ; Many a teare shed our comelye queene And aye her hart was sad. 100 Then came one of the queenes damselles, And knelt upon her knee, Cheare up, cheare up, my gracious dame, I trust yet helpe may be. And here I will make mine avowe, 105 And with the same me binde ; D 3 58 SIR ALDINGAR. That never will I return to thee, Till I some helpe may finde." Then forth she rode on a faire palfraye Oer hill and dale about : 110 But never a champion colde she finde, Wolde fighte with that knight so stout. And nowe the daye drewe on a pace, When our good queene must dye ; All woe-begone was that faire damselle, 115 When she found no helpe was nye. All woe-begone was that faire damselle, And the salt teares fell from her eye : When lo ! as she rode by a rivers side, She met with a tinye boye. 120 A tinye boy she mette, God wot, All clad in mantle of golde ; He seemed noe more in mans likenesse, Then a childe of four yeere olde ; Why grieve you, damselle faire, he sayd, 125 And what doth cause you moane ? The damsell scant wolde deigne a looke, But fast she pricked on. Yet turne againe, thou faire damselle, And greete thy queene from mee ; 1 30 SIR ALDFNGAR. 59 When bale is att hyest, boote is nyest, Nowe helpe enoughe may bee. Bid her remember what she dreamt In her bedd, wheras shee laye ; How when the grype and the grimly beast 135 Wolde have carried her crowne awaye, Even then there came the little gray hawke, And saved her from his clawes : Then bidd the queene be merry at hart, For heaven will fende her cause. 140 Back then rode that faire damselle, And her hart it lept for glee : And when she told her gracious dame A gladd woman then was shee. But when the appointed day was come, 145 No helpe appeared nye : Then woeful, woeful was her hart, And the teares stood in her eye. And nowe a fyer was built of wood ; And a stake was made of tree ; 150 And now queene Elinor forth was led, A sorrowful sight to see. Three times the herault he waved his hand, And three times spake on hye : SIR ALDINGAR. Giff any good knight will fende this dame, 155 Come forth, or shee must dye. No knight stood forth, no knight there came, No helpe appeared nye : And now the fyer was lighted up, Queen Elinor she must dye. 160 And now the fyer was lighted up, As hot as hot might bee ; When riding upon a little white steed, The tinye boy they see. Away with that stake, away with those brands, And loose our comelye queene : 166 I am come to fight with sir Aldingar, And prove him a traitor keene." Forthe then stood sir Aldingar, But when he saw the chylde, 1 70 He laughed, and scoffed, and turned his backe, And weened he had been beguylde. ' Now turne, now turne thee, Aldingar, And eyther fighte or flee ; I trust that I shall avenge the wronge, 1 75 Thoughe I am so small to see." The boye pulld forth a well good sworde So gilt it dazzled the ee; SIR ALDINGAR. 61 The first stroke stricken at Aldingar Smote off his leggs by the knee. 180 Stand up, stand up, thou false traitor, And fight upon thy feete, For and thou thrive, as thou begin' st, Of height wee shall be meete." A priest, a priest, sayes Aldingar, 185 While I am a man alive. A priest, a priest, sayes Aldingar, Me for to houzle and shrive. I wolde have laine by our comlie queene, But shee wolde never consent ; 1 90 Then I thought to betraye her unto our kinge In a fyer to have her brent. There came a lazar to the kings gates, A lazar both blind and lame : I tooke the lazar upon my backe, 195 And on her bedd had him layne. Then ranne I to our comlye king, These tidings sore to tell. But ever alacke ! sayes Aldingar, Falsing never doth well. 200 Forgive, forgive me, queene, madame, The short time I must live. 62 SIR ALDINGAR. " Nowe Christ forgive thee, Aldingar, As freely I forgive." Here take thy queene, our king Harrye, 205 And love her as thy life, For never had a king in Christentye, A truer and fairer wife. King Henrye ran to claspe his queene, And loosed her full sone : 210 Then turnd to look for the tinye boye ; The boye was vanisht and gone. But first he had touchd the lazar man, And stroakt him with his hand : The lazar under the gallowes tree 215 All whole and sounde did stand. The lazar under the gallowes tree Was comelye, straight and tall ; King Henrye made him his head stewarde To wayte withinn his hall. 220 THE GABERLUNZIE MAN. 63 X. A SCOTTISH SONG. Tradition informs us that the author of this song was King James V. of Scotland. This prince (whose charac- ter for wit and libertinism bears a great resemblance to that of his gay successor Charles II.) was noted for stroll- ing about his dominions in disguise,* and for his frequent gallantries with country girls. Two adventures of this kind he hath celebrated with his own pen, viz. in this ballad of The Gaberlunzie Man ; and in another entitled The Jolly Beggar, beginning thus : Thair was a jollie beggar, and a begging he was boon, And he tuik up his quarters into a land' art toun. Fa, la, la, &c. It seems to be the latter of these ballads (which was too licentious to be admitted into this collection) that is meant in the Catalogue of Royal and Noble Author s,^ where the ingenious writer remarks, That there is something very ludicrous in the young woman's distress when she thought her first favour had been thrown away upon a beggar. Bishop Tanner has attributed to James V. the celebrated ballad of Christ's Kirk on the Green, which is ascribed to King James I. in Bannatyne's MS., written in 1568: And notwithstanding that authority, the Editor of this book is of opinion that Bishop Tanner was right. King James V. died Dec. 13th, 1542, aged 33. * Sc. of a tinker, beggar, &c. Thus he used to visit a smith's daughter at Niddry, near Edinburgh. f Vol. ii. p. 203. 64 THE GABERLUNZIE MAN. THE pauky auld Carle came ovir the lee Wi' mony good-eens and days to mee, Saying, Goodwife, for zour courtesie, Will ze lodge a silly poor man ? The night was cauld, the carle was wat, 5 And down azont the ingle he sat ; My dochters shoulders he gan to clap, And cadgily ranted and sang. O wow ! quo he, were I as free, As first when I saw this countrie, 10 How blyth and merry wad I bee ! And I wad nevir think lang. He grew canty, and she grew fain ; But little did her auld minny ken What thir slee twa togither were say'n, 1 5 When wooing they were sa thrang. And ! quo he, ann ze were as black, As evir the crown of your dadyes hat, Tis I wad lay thee by my back, And awa wi' me thou sould gang. 20 And ! quoth she, ann I were as white, As evir the snaw lay on the dike, lid dead me braw, and lady-like, And awa with thee lid gang. Between the twa was made a plot ; 25 They raise a wee before the cock, THE GABERLUNZIE MAN. 65 And wyliely they shot the lock, And fast to the bent are they gane. Up the morn the auld wife raise, And at her leisure put on her claiths, 30 Syne to the servants bed she gaes To speir for the silly poor man. She gaed to the bed, whair the beggar lay, The strae was cauld, he was away, She clapt her hands, cryd, Dulefu' day ! 35 For some of our geir will be gane. Some ran to coffer, and some to kist, But nought was stown that could be mist. She dancid her lane, cryd, Praise be blest, I have lodgd a leal poor man. 40 Since naithings awa, as we can learn, The kirns to kirn, and milk to earn, Gae butt the house, lass, and waken my bairn, And bid her come quickly ben. The servant gaed where the dochter lay, 45 The sheets was cauld, she was away, And fast to her goodwife can say, Shes aff with the gaberlunzie-man. fy gar ride, and fy gar rin, And hast ze, find these traitors agen ; 50 For shees be burnt, and hees be slein, The wearyfou gaberlunzie-man. * Ver. 29, the carline. other copies. THE GABERLUNZIE MAN. Some rade upo horse, some ran a fit, The wife was wood, and out o' her wit ; She could na gang, nor yet could she sit, 55 But ay did curse and did ban. Mean time far hind out owre the lee, For snug in a glen, where nane could see, The twa, with kindlie sport and glee, Cut frae a new cheese a whang. 60 The priving was gude, it pleas'd them baith, To lo'e her for ay, he gae her his aith. Quo she, to leave thee, I will be laith, Wy winsome gaberlunzie-man. kend my minny I were wi' zou, 65 Illfardly wad she crook her mou, Sic a poor man sheld nevir trow, Aftir the gaberlunzie-mon. My dear, quo he, zee're zet owre zonge ; And hae na learnt the beggars tonge, 70 To follow me frae toun to toun, And carrie the gaberlunzie on. Wi' kauk and keel, 111 win zour bread, And spindles and whorles for them wha need, Whilk is a gentil trade indeed 75 The gaberlunzie to carrie o. Ill bow my leg and crook my knee, And draw a black clout owre my ee, A criple or blind they will cau me : While we sail sing and be merrie o. 80 ON THOMAS LORD CROMWELL. 67 XT. 3GLort) It is ever the fate of a disgraced minister to be forsaken by his friends, and insulted by his enemies, always reck- oning among the latter the giddy inconstant multitude. We have here a spurn at fallen greatness from some angry partisan of declining Popery, who could never forgive the downfall of their Diana, and loss of their craft. The bal- lad seems to have been composed between the time of Cromwell's commitment to the Tower, June 11, 1540, and that of his being beheaded July 28, following. A short interval ! but Henry's passion for Catherine Howard would admit of no delay. Notwithstanding our libeller, Crom- well had many excellent qualities : his great fault was too much obsequiousness to the arbitrary will of his master ; but let it be considered that this master had raised him from obscurity, and that the high-born nobility had shown him the way in every kind of mean and servile compliance. The original copy printed at London in 1540, is entitled " A newe ballade made of Thomas Crumwel, called Trolle on Away" To it is prefixed this distich by way of burthen, Trolle on away, trolle on awaye. Synge heave aud howe rombelowe trolle on away. BOTH man and chylde is glad to here tell Of that false traytoure Thomas Crumwell, Now that he is set to learn to spell. Synge trolle on away. 68 ON THOMAS LORD CROMWELL. When fortune lokyd the in thy face, Thou haddyst fayre tyme, but thou lackydyst grace ; 5 Thy cofers with golde thou fyllydst a pace. Synge, &c. Both plate and chalys came to thy fyst, Thou lockydst them vp where no man wyst, Tyll in the kynges treasoure suche thinges were myst. Synge, &c. Both crust and crumme came thorowe thy handes, 10 Thy marchaundyse sayled over the sandes, Therfore nowe thou art layde fast in bandes. Synge, &c. Fyrste when kynge Henry, God saue his grace ! Perceyud myschefe kyndlyd in thy face, Then it was tyme to purchase the a place. 15 Synge, &c. Hys grace was euer of gentyll nature, Mouyd with petye, and made the hys seruyture : But thou, as a wretche, suche thinges dyd procure. Synge, &c. Thou dyd not remembre, false heretyke, One God, one fayth, and one kynge catholyke, 20 For thou hast bene so long a scysmatyke. Synge, &c. ON THOMAS LORD CROMWELL. 69 Thou woldyst not learne to knowe these thre ; But euer was full of iniquite : Wherfore all this lande hathe ben troubled with the. Synge, &c. All they, that were of the new trycke, 25 Agaynst the churche thou baddest them stycke ; Wherfore nowe thou hast touchyd the quycke. Synge, &c. Both sacramentes and sacramentalles Thou woldyst not suffre within thy walles ; Nor let vs praye for all chrysten soules. 30 Synge, &c. Of what generacyon thou were no tonge can tell, Whyther of Chayme, or Syschemell, Or else sent vs frorae the deuyll of hell. Synge, &tc. Thou woldest neuer to vertue applye, But couetyd euer to clymme to hye, 35 And nowe haste thou trodden thy shoo awrye. Synge, &c. Who-so-euer dyd winne thou wolde not lose ; Wherfore all Englande doth hate the, as I suppose, By cause thou wast false to the redolent rose. Synge, &c. Ver. 32, i. e. Cain, or Ishmael. See below, the note, book ii. no. iii. stanza 3d. 70 ON THOMAS LORD CROMWELL. Thou myghtest have learned thy cloth to flocke 40 Upon thy gresy fullers stocke ; Wherfore lay downe thy heade vpon this blocke. Synge, &c. Yet saue that soule, that God hath bought, And for thy carcas care thou nought, Let it suffre payne, as it hath wrought. 45 Synge, &c. God saue kyng Henry with all his power, And prynce Edwarde that goodly flowre, With al hys lordes of great honoure. Synge trolle on awaye, syng trolle on away. Hevye and how rombelowe trolle on awaye. V. 41, Cromwell's father is generally said to have been a black- smith at Putney : but the author of this ballad would insinuate that either he himself, or some of his ancestors, were fullers by trade. %* The foregoing piece gave rise to a poetic con- troversy, which was carried on through a succession of seven or eight ballads, written for and against Lord Cromwell. These are all preserved in the archives of the Antiquarian Society, in a large folio Collection of Proclamations, &c., made in the reigns of King Henry VIIL, King Edward VI., Queen Mary, Queen Elizabeth, King James I., &c. HARPALUS. 71 XII. AN ANCIENT ENGLISH PASTORAL. This beautiful poem, which is perhaps the first attempt at pastoral writing in our language, is preserved among the " Songs and Sonnettes" of the Earl of Surrey, &c. 4to. in that part of the collection, which consists of pieces by " uncertain Auctours." These poems were first published in 1557, ten years after that accomplished nobleman fell a victim to the tyranny of Henry VIII. : but it is presumed most of them were composed before the death of Sir Thomas Wyat, in 1541. See Surrey's Poems, 4to. folios 19, 49. Though written perhaps near half a century before the Shepherd's Calendar* this will be found far superior to any of those Eclogues, in natural unaffected sentiments, in simplicity of style, in easy flow of versification, and all other beauties of pastoral poetry. Spenser ought to have profited more by so excellent a model. PHYLIDA was a faire mayde, As fresh as any flowre ; Whom Harpalus the herdman prayde To be his paramour. Harpalus, and eke Corin, Were herdmen both yfere : * First published in 1579. 72 And Phylida could twist and spinne, And thereto sing full clere. But Phylida was all to coye, For Harpalus to winne: 10 For Corin was her onely joye, Who forst her not a pinne. How often would she flowers twine ? How often garlandes make Of couslips and of colombine ? 15 And al for Corin's sake. But Corin, he had haukes to lure, And forced more the field : Of lovers lawe he toke no cure ; For once he was begilde. 20 Harpalus prevailed nought, His labour all was lost : For he was fardest from her thought, And yet he loved her most. Therefore waxt he both pale and leane, 25 And drye as clot of clay : His fleshe it was consumed cleane ; His colour gone away. His beard it had not long be shave ; His heare hong all unkempt ; 30 HAEPALUS. 73 A man most fit even for the grave, Whom spitefull love had spent. His eyes were red, and all ' forewacht' ; His face besprent with teares : It semde unhap had him long ' hatcht', 35 In mids of his dispaires. His clothes were blacke, and also bare , As one forlorne was he ; Upon his head alwayes he ware A wreath of wyllow tree. 40 His beastes he kept upon the hyll, And he sate in the dale; And thus with sighes and sorrowes shril, He gan to tell his tale. Oh Harpalus ! (thus would he say) 45 Unhappiest under sunne ! The cause of thine unhappy day, By love was first begunne. For thou wentest first by sute to seeke A tigre to make tame, 50 That settes not by thy love a leeke ; But makes thy griefe her game. Ver. 33, &c. The corrections are from ed. 1574. VOL. II. E 74 As easy it were for to convert The frost into a ' flame ; As for to turne a frowarde hert, 55 Whom thou so faine wouldst frame. Corin he liveth carelesse : He leapes among the leaves : He eates the frutes of thy redresse : Thou ' reapst ', he takes the sheaves. 60 My heastes, a whyle your foode refraine, And harke your herdmans sounde : Whom spitefull love, alas ! hath slaine, Through-girt with many a wounde. happy he ye, heastes wilde, 65 That here your pasture takes : 1 se that ye be not hegilde Of these your faithfull makes. The hart he feedeth by the hinde : The bucke harde by the do : 70 The turtle dove is not unkinde To him that loves her so. The ewe she hath by her the ramme : The young cow hath the bull : The calfe with many a lusty lambe 75 Do fede their hunger full. HARPALUS. 75 But, wel-away ! that nature wrought The, Phylida, so faire : For I may say that I have hought Thy beauty all to deare. 80 What reason is that crueltie With beautie should have part ? Or els that such great tyranny Should dwell in womans hart ? I see therefore to shape my death 85 She cruelly is prest ; To th' ende that I may want my breath : My dayes been at the best. Cupide, graunt this my request, And do not stoppe thine eares, 90 That she may feele within her brest The paines of my dispaires : Of Corin, ' who ' is carelesse, That she may crave her fee : As I have done in great distresse, 95 That loved her faithfully. But since that I shal die her slave ; Her slave, and eke her thrall : Write you, my frendes, upon my grave This chaunce that is befall. 100 E '2 76 ROBIN AND MAKYNE. " Here lieth unhappy Harpalus By cruell love now slaine : Whom Phylida unjustly thus Hath murdred with disdaine." XIII. antr Jftafepne. AN ANCIENT SCOTTISH PASTORAL. The palm of pastoral poesy is here contested by a con- temporary writer with the author of the foregoing. The critics wiU judge of their respective merits; but must make some allowance for the preceding ballad, which is given simply as it stands in the old editions : whereas this which follows, has been revised and amended throughout by Allan Ramsay, from whose Ever-Green, vol. i., it is here chiefly printed. The curious reader may however compare it with the more original copy, printed among " Ancient Scottish Poems, from the MS. of George Banna- tyne, 1568, Edinb. 1770, 12mo." Mr. Robert Henryson (to whom we are indebted for this poem) appears to so much advantage among the writers of eclogue, that we are sorry we can give little other account of him besides what is contained in the following eloge, written by W. Dunbar, a Scottish poet, who lived about the middle of the 16th century : " In Dumferling, he [Death] hath tane Broun, With gude Mr. Robert Henryson." Indeed some little further insight into the history of this Scottish bard, is gained from the title prefixed to some ROBIN AND MAKYNE. 77 of his poems preserved in the British Museum ; viz. "The morall Fabillis of Esop compylit be Maister Robert Hen- risoun, scolmaister of Dumfermling, 1571 -" Harleian MSS. 3865, 1. In Ramsay's Ever-Green, vol. i., whence the above dis- tich is extracted, are preserved two other little Doric pieces by Henry son ; the one entitled The Lyon and the Mouae ; the other, The garment of glide Ladyis. Some other of his poems may be seen in the "Ancient Scottish Poems, printed from Bannatyne's MS." above referred to. ROBIN sat on the gude grene hill, Keipaud a flock of fie, Quhen mirry Makyne said him till, " Robin rew on me : I haif thee luivt baith loud and still, 5 Thir towmonds twa or thre ; My dule in dern hot giff thou dill, Doubtless but dreid 111 die." Robin replied, Now by the rude, Naithing of luve I knaw, 10 But keip my sheip undir yon wod : Lo quhair they raik on raw. Quhat can have mart thee in thy mude, Thou Makyne to me schaw ; Or quhat is luve, or to be lude ? 15 Fain wald I leir that law. 78 ROBIN AND MAKYNE. " The law of luve gin thou wald leir, Tak thair an A, B, C ; Be heynd, courtas, and fair of feir, Wyse, hardy, kind and frie, 20 Sae that nae danger do the deir, Quhat dule in dern thou drie ; Press ay to pleis, and blyth appeir, Be patient and privie." Robin, he answert her againe, 25 I wat not quhat is luve ; But I haif marvel in certaine Quhat makes thee thus wanrufe. The wedder is fair, and I am fain ; My sheep gais hail abuve ; 30 And sould we pley us on the plain, They wald us baith repruve. " Robin, tak tent unto my tale, And wirk all as I reid ; And thou sail haif my heart all hale, 35 Eik and my maiden-heid : Sen God, he sendis bute for bale, And for murning remeid, I'dern with thee hot gif I dale, Doubtless I am but deid." 40 Ver. 19, Bannatyne's MS. reads as above, heynd, not keitnd, as in the Edinb. edit. 1770. V. 21, So that no danger'. Ban- natyne's MS. ROBIN AND MAKYNE. 79 Makyne, to-morn be this ilk tyde, Gif ye will meit me heir, Maybe my sheip may gang besyde, Quhyle we have liggd full neir ; But maugre haif I, gif I byde, 45 Frae thay begin to steir, Quhat lyes on heart I will nocht hyd, Then Makyne mak gude cheir. " Robin, thou reivs me of my rest ; I luve bot thee alane." 50 Makyne, adieu ! the siln goes west, The day is neir-hand gane. " Robin, in dule I am so drest, That luve will be my bane." Makyn, gae luv quhair-eir ye list, 55 For leman I luid nane. u Robin, I stand in sic a style, I sich and that full sair." Makyne, I have bene here this quyle ; At hame I wish I ware. 60 " Robin, my hinny, talk and smyle, Gif thou will do nae mair." Makyne, som other man beguyle, For hameward I will fare. Syne Robin on his ways he went, 65 As light as leif on tree ; 80 ROBIN AND MAKYNE. But Makyne murnt and made lament, Scho trow'd him neir to see. Robin he brayd attowre the bent : Then Makyne cried on hie, 70 " Now may thou sing, for I am shent ! Quhat ailis luve at me ?" Makyne went hame withouten fail, And weirylie could weip ; Then Robin in a full fair dale 75 Assemblit all his sheip. Be that some part of Makyne's ail, Out-throw his heart could creip ; Hir fast he followt to assail, And till her tuke gude keip. 80 Abyd, abyd, thou fair Makyne, A word for ony thing ; For all my luve, it sail be thyne, Withouten departing. All hale thy heart for till have myne, 85 Is all my coveting ; My sheip to morn quhyle houris nyne, Will need of nae keiping. "Robin, thou hast heard sung and say, In gests and storys auld, 90 The man that will not when he may, Sail have nocht when he wald. ROBIN AND MAKYNE. 81 I pray to heaven baith nicht and day, Be eiked their cares sae cauld, That presses first with thee to play 95 Be forrest, firth, or fauld." Makyne, the nicht is soft and dry, The wether warm and fair, And the grene wod richt neir-hand by, To walk attowre all where : 100 There may nae janglers us espy, That is in luve contrair ; Therin, Makyne, baith you and I Unseen may mak repair. " Robin, that warld is now away, 105 And quyt brocht till an end : And nevir again thereto, perfay, Sail it be as thou wend ; For of my pain thou made but play ; I words in vain did spend : 1 10 As thou hast done, sae sail I say, Murn on, I think to mend." Makyne, the hope of all my heil, My heart on thee is set ; I'll evermair to thee be leil, 115 Quhyle I may live but lett, V. 99, Bannatyne's MS. has wuirf, not uxmd, asiu ed. 1770. E 3 82 GENTLE HERDSMAN, TELL TO ME. Never to fail as uthers feill, Quhat grace so eir I get. " Robin, with thee I will not deill ; Adieu, for this we met." 120 Makyne went hameward blyth enough, Outowre the holtis hair ; Pure Robin murnd, and Makyne leugh ; Scho sang, and he sicht sair : And so left him bayth wo and wreuch, 125 In dolor and in care, Keipand his herd under a heuch, Amang the rushy gair. V. 117, Bannatyne's MS. reads as above feill, not faill, as in ed. 1770. XIV. (tetle l^ntrsman, tell to The scene of this beautiful old ballad is laid near Wal- singham, in Norfolk, where was anciently an image of the Virgin Mary, famous over all Europe for the numerous pilgrimages made to it, and the great riches it possessed. Erasmus has given a very exact and humorous descrip- tion of the superstitions practised there in his time. See his account of the Virgo Parathalassia, in his colloquy, en- titled, Peregrinatio Religionis Ergo. He tells us, the rich GENTLE HERDSMAN, TELL TO ME. 83 offerings in silver, gold, and precious stones, that were there shown him, were incredible, there being scarce a person of any note in England but what some time or other paid a visit, or sent a present, to Our Lady of Wal- singham.* At the dissolution of the monasteries in 1538, this splendid image, with another from Ipswich, was car- ried to Chelsea, and there burnt in the presence of com- missioners ; who, we trust, did not burn the jewels and the finery. This poem is printed from a copy in the Editor's folio MS., which had greatly suffered by the hand of time ; but vestiges of several of the lines remaining, some conjec- tural supplements have been attempted, which, for greater exactness, are in this one ballad distinguished by italics. * See at the end of this ballad an account of the annual offer- ings of the Earls of Northumberland. GENTLE heardsman, tell to me, Of curtesy I thee pray, Unto the towne of Walsingham Which is the right and ready way. ! Unto the towne of Walsingham 5 The way is hard for to be gon ; And verry crooked are those pathes For you to find out all alone." Weere the miles doubled thrise, And the way never soe ill, 10 84 GENTLE HERDSMAN, TELL TO MB. Itt were not enough for mine offence ; Itt is soe grievous and soe ill. " Thy yeeares are young, thy face is faire, Thy witts are weake, thy thoughts are greene ; Time hath not given thee leave, as yett, 15 For to committ so great a sinne." Yes, heardsman, yes, soe woldest thou say, If thou knewest soe much as I ; My witts, and thoughts, and all the rest, Have well deserved for to dye. 20 I am not what I seeme to bee, My clothes and sexe doe differ farr : I am a woman, woe is me ! Born to greeffe and irksome care. For my beloved, and well-beloved, 25 My wayward cruelty could kill : And though my teares will nought avail, Most dearely I bewail him still. He was the flower of noble wights, None ever more sincere colde bee ; 30 Of comely mien and shape hee was, And tenderlye hee loved mee. When thus I saw he loved me well, I grerve so proud his pair\e to see, GENTLE HERDSMAN, TELL TO ME. 85 That /, who did not know myselfe, 35 Thought scorne of such a youth as hee. * And grew soe coy and nice to please, As women's lookes are often soe, He might not kisse, nor hand forsooth, Unlesse I willed him soe to doe. 40 Thus being wearyed with delayes To see I pittyed not his greeffe, He gott him to a secrett place, And there he dyed without releeffe. * Three of the following stanzas have been finely paraphrased by Dr. Goldsmith, in Lis charming ballad of Edwin and Emma ; the reader of taste will have a pleasure in comparing them with the original. ' And' still I try'd each fickle art, Importunate and vain ; And while his passion touch'd my heart, I triumph'd in his pain. 'Till quite dejected with my scorn, He left me to my pride ; And sought a solitude forlorn, In secret, where he dy'd. But mine the sorrow, mine the fault, And well my life shall pay j I'll seek the solitude he sought, And stretch me where he lay. And there forlorn despairing hid, I'll lay me down and die : 'Twas so for me that Edwin did, And so for him will I. 86 GENTLE HERDSMAN, TELL TO ME. And for his sake these weeds I weare, 45 And sacriffice my tender age ; And every day He begg my bread, To undergoe this pilgrimage. Thus every day I fast and pray, And ever will doe till I dye ; 50 And gett me to some secrett place, For soe did hee, and soe will I, Now, gentle heardsman, aske no more, But keepe my secretts I thee pray ; Unto the towne of Walsingam 55 Show me the right and readye way. " Now goe thy wayes, and God before ! For he must ever guide thee still : Turne downe that dale, the right hand path, And soe, faire pilgrim, fare thee well ! " 60 %* To show what constant tribute was paid to OUR LADY OF WALSINGHAM, I shall give a few extracts from the " Houshold-Book of Henry Algernon Percy, 5th Earl of Northumberland." Printed 1770, 8vo. Sect. XLIIT. page 337, &c. ITEM, My Lorde usith yerly to send afor Michaelmas for his Lordschip's Offerynge to our Lady of Walsyngeham, iiijd. ITEM, My Lorde usith ande accustumyth to sende yerely for the upholdynge of the Light of Wax which his Lord- schip fyndith birnynge yerly befor our Lady of Walsyng- KING EDWARD IV. 87 ham, contenynge #/lb. of Wax in it after vijd. ob. for the fyndynge of every Ib. redy wrought by a covenaunt maid with the Channon by great, for the hole yere, for the fyndinge of the said Lyght byrning, vi s. viiijd. ITEM, My Lord useth and accustomith to syende yerely to the Channon that kepith the Light before our Lady of Walsyngham, for his reward for the hole yere, for kepynge of the said Light, lightynge of it at all service tymes dayly thorowt the yere, xij d. ITEM, My Lord usith and accustomyth yerely to send to the Prest that kepith the Light, lyghtynge of it at all service tymes daily thorowt the yere, iij s. iiij d. XV. B. l&rfoart! IF. anfc Banner of Was a story of great fame among our ancestors. The au- thor of the Art of English Poesie, 1589, 4to. seems to speak of it as a real fact. Describing that vicious mode of speech, which the Greeks called Acyron, i. e. " When we use a dark and obscure word, utterly repugnant to that we should express ; " he adds, " Such manner of uncouth speech did the Tanner of Tamworth use to King Edward the fourth ; which Tanner, having a great while mistaken him, and used very broad talke with him, at length per- ceiving by his traine that it was the king, was afraide he should be punished for it, [and] said thus, with a certain rude repentance, " I hope I shall be banged to-morrow, for II fear e me] I shall be hanged; whereat the king laughed a good,* not only to see the Tanner's vaine feare, * Vide Gloss. 88 KING EDWARD IV. AND but also to heare his illshapen terme : and gave him for recompence of his good sport, the inheritance of Plumpton- parke. / am afraid," concludes this sagacious writer, " the poets of our times that speaks more finely and correctedly, will come too short of such a reward," p. 214. The phrase here referred to, is not found in this ballad at present,* but occurs with some variation in another old poem, entitled, John the Reeve, described in the following volume. (See the Preface to The King and the Miller,} viz. " Nay, sayd John, by Gods grace And Edward wer in this place, Hee shold not touch this tonne : He wold be wroth with John I HOPE, Thereffore I beshrew the soupe, That in his mouth shold come." Ft. ii. st. 24. The following text is selected (with such other correc- tions as occurred) from two copies in black letter. The one in the Bodleian library, entitled, " A merrie, pleasant, and delectable historie betweene King Edward the Fourth, and a Tanner of Tamworth, &c., printed at London, by John Danter, 1596." This copy, ancient as it now is, ap- pears to have been modernised and altered at the time it was published; and many vestiges of the more ancient readings were recovered from another copy, (though more recently printed,) in one sheet folio, without date, in the Pepys collection. But these are both very inferior in point of antiquity to the old ballad of The King and the Barker, reprinted with other " Pieces of Ancient Popular Poetry from Authentic Manuscripts, and old Printed Copies, edited by Ritson," Lond. 1791, 8vo. As that very antique poem had never occurred to the Editor of the Reliques, till he saw it in the above collection, he now refers the curious reader to it, as an imperfect and incorrect copy of the old original ballad. * Nor in that of the Barker mentioned below. THE TANNER OP TAMWORTH. 89 IN summer time, when leaves grow greene, And blossoms bedecke the tree, King Edward wolde a hunting ryde, Some pastime for to see. With hawke and hounde he made him bowne, 5 With home, and eke with bowe ; To Drayton Basset he tooke his waye, With all his lordes a rowe. And he had ridden ore dale and downe By eight of clocke in the day, 10 When he was ware of a bold tanner, Come ryding along the waye. A fayre russet coat the tanner had on Fast buttoned under his chin, And under him a good cow-hide, 15 And a mare of four shilling.* Nowe stand you still, my good lordes all, Under the grene wood spraye ; And I will wend to yonder fellowe, To weet what he will saye. 20 * In the reign of Edward IV. Dame Cecill, lady of Torhoke, in her will dated March 7, A. D. 1466, among many other bequests has this, " Also I will that my sonne Thomas of Torboke have 13s. 4d. to buy him an horse." Vide Harleian Catalogue, 2176. 27. Now if 13s. 4d. would purchase a steed fit for a person of quality, a tanner's horse might reasonably be valued at four or five shillings. 90 KIKG EDWARD IV. AND God speede, God speede thee, said our king. Thou art welcome, sir, sayd hee. " The readyest waye to Drayton Basset I praye thee to shewe to mee." " To Drayton Basset woldst thou goe, 25 Fro the place where thou dost stand ? The next payre of gallowes thou comest unto, Turne in upon thy right hand." That is an unreadye waye, sayd our king, Thou doest but jest I see ; 30 Nowe shewe me out the nearest waye, And I pray thee wend with mee. Awaye with a vengeance ! quoth the tanner : I hold thee out of thy witt : All day have I rydden on Brocke my mare, 35 And I am fasting yett. " Go with me downe to Drayton Basset, No daynties we will spare ; All daye shalt thou eate and drinke of the best, And I will paye thy fare." 40 Gramercye for nothing, the tanner replyde, Thou payest no fare of mine : I trowe I've more nobles in my purse, Than thou hast pence in thine. THE TANNER OP TAM WORTH. 91 God give thee joy of them, sayd the king, 45 And send them well to priefe. The tanner wolde faine have beene away, For he weende he had beene a thiefe. What art thou, hee sayde, thou fine fellowe, Of thee I am in great feare, 50 For the cloathes, thou wearest upon thy backe, Might beseeme a lord to weare. I never stole them, quoth our king, I tell you, sir, by the roode. " Then thou playest, as many an unthrift doth, 55 And standest in midds of thy goode."* What tydinges heare you, sayd the kynge, As you ryde farre and neare ? " I heare no tydinges, sir, by the masse, But that cowe-hides are deare." 60 " Cowe-hides! cowe-hides ! what things are those? I marvell what they bee?" What art thou a foole ? the tanner reply'd ; I carry one under mee. What craftsman art thou, said the king, 65 I praye thee tell me trowe. * i. e. bast no other wealth but what thou carriest about thee. 92 KING EDWARD IV. AND " I am a barker,* sir, by my trade ; No we tell me what art thou ?" I am a poore courtier, sir, quoth he, That am forth of service worne ; 70 And faine I wolde thy prentise bee, Thy cunninge for to learne. Marrye heaven forfend, the tanner replyde, That thou my prentise were : Thou woldst spend more good than I shold winne By fortye shilling a yere. 76 Yet one thinge wolde I, sayd our king, If thou wilt not seeme strange : Thoughe my horse be better than thy mare, Yet with thee I faine wold change. 80 " Why if with me thou faine wilt change, As change full well maye wee, By the faith of my bodye, thou proude fellowe, I will have some boot of thee." That were against reason, sayd the king, 85 I sweare, so mote I thee : My horse is better than thy mare, And that thou well mayst see. * t. e. a dealer in bark. THE TANNER OP TAMWORTH. 93 ' Yea, sir; but Brocke is gentle and mild, And softly she will fare : 90 Thy horse is unrulye and wild, I wiss ; Aye skipping here and theare." What boote wilt thou have ? our king reply'd ; Now tell me in this stound. ' Noe pence, nor half pence, by my faye, But a noble in gold so round." 95 Here's twentye groates of white moneye, Sith thou will have it of mee." I would have sworne now, quoth the tanner, Thou hadst not had one pennie. 100 But since we two have made a change, A change we must abide, Although thou hast gotten Brocke my mare, Thou gettest not my cowe-hide. I will not have it, sayd the kynge, 105 I sweare, so mought I thee ; Thy foule cowe-hide I wolde not beare, If thou woldst give it to mee. The tanner hee tooke his good cowe-hide, That of the cow was hilt ; 110 And threwe it upon the king's sadelle, That was soe fayrelye gilte. 94 KING EDWARD IV. AND "Now help me up, thou fine fellowe, 'Tis time that I were gone ; When I come home to Gyllian my wife, 1 ] 5 Sheel say I am a gentilmon." The king he tooke him up by the legge ; The tanner a f * * lett fall. Nowe marrye, good fellowe, sayd the kyng, Thy courtesye is but small. 120 When the tanner he was in the kinges sadelle, And his foote in the stirrup was ; He marvelled greatlye in his minde, Whether it were golde or brass. But when his steede saw the cows taile wagge, And eke the blacke cowe-horne ; 126 He stamped, and stared, and awaye he ranne, As the devill had him borne. The tanner he pulld, the tanner he sweat, And held by the pummil fast : 1 30 At length the tanner came tumbling downe ; His necke he had well-nye brast. Take thy horse again with a vengeance, he sayd, With mee he shall not byde. " My horse wolde have borne thee well enoughe, But he knewe not of thy cowe-hide. 136 THE TANNER OP TAMWORTH. 95 Yet if againe thou faine woldst change, As change full well may wee, By the faith of my bodye, thou jolly tanner, I will have some boote of thee." 140 What boote wilt thou have, the tanner replyd, Nowe tell me in this stounde ? ' Noe pence nor half-pence, sir, by my faye, But I will have twentye pound." ' Here's twentye groates out of my purse ; 145 And twentye I have of thine : And I have one more, which we will spend Together at the wine." The king set a bugle home to his mouthe, And blewe both loude and shrille : 1 50 And soone came lords, and soone came knights, Fast ryding over the hille. Nowe, out alas ! the tanner he cryde, That ever I sawe this daye ! Thou art a strong thiefe, yon come thy fellowes Will beare my cowe-hide away. 156 They are no thieves, the king replyde, I sweare, soe mote I thee : But they are the lords of the north countrey, Here come to hunt with mee. 160 96 KING EDWARD IV. AND And soone before our king they came, And knelt downe on the grounde : Then might the tanner have beene awaye, He had lever than twentye pounde. A coller, a coller, here : sayd the king, 165 A coller he loud gan crye : Then woulde he lever then twentye pound, He had not beene so nighe. A coller, a coller, the tanner he sayd, I trowe it will breed sorrowe : 170 After a coller commeth a halter, I trow I shall be hang'd to-morrowe. Be not afraid tanner, said our king ; I tell thee, so mought I thee, Lo here I make thee the best esquire 175 That is in the north countrie.* * This stanza is restored from a quotation of this ballad in Selden's Titles of Honour, who produces it as a good authority to prove, that one mode of creating Esquires at that time was by the imposition of a collar. His words are, " Nor is that old pamphlet of the Tanner of Tamworth and King Edward the Fourth so con- temptible, but that wee may thence note also an observable pas- sage, wherein the use of making Esquires, by giving Collars, is ex- pressed." (Sub Tit. Esquire ; and vide in Spelmanni Glossar. Armiger.) This form of creating Esquires actually exists at this day among the Serjeants at A.rms, who are invested with a Collar (which they wear on Collar days) by the king himself. This information I owe to Samuel Pegge, Esq., to whom the public is indebted for that curious work the Curialia, 4to. THE TANNER OF TAMWORTH. 97 For Plumpton-parke I will give thee, With tenements faire beside : Tis worth three hundred markes by the yeare, To maintaine thy good cowe-hide. 1 80 Gramercye, my liege, the tanner replyde, For the favour thou hast me showne ; If ever thou comest to merry Tatnworth, Neates leather shall clout thy shoen. XVI. camt from t The scene of this song is the same as in No. xiv. The pilgrimage to Walsingham suggested the plan of many po- pular pieces. In the Pepys collection, vol. i. p. 226, is a kind of Interlude in the old ballad style, of which the first stanza alone is worth reprinting. As 1 went to Walsingham, To the shrine with speede, Met I with a jolly palmer In a pilgrimes weede. Now God you save, you jolly palmer ! " Welcome, lady gay, Oft have I sued to thee for love " Oft have I said you nay. The pilgrimages undertaken on pretence of religion, 9S AS YE CAME FROM THE HOLY LAND. were often productive of affairs of gallantry, and led the votaries to no other shrine than that of Venus.* The following ballad was once very popular ; it is quoted in Fletcher's Knight of the burning Pestle, act. ii. sc. ult. and in another old play, called Hans Beer-pot, his invisi- ble Comedy, &c. 4to. 1618, act i. The copy below was com- municated to the Editor by the late Mr. Shenstone, as cor- rected by him from an ancient copy, and supplied with a concluding stanza. We have placed this, and Gentle Herdsman, &c., thus early in the volume, upon a presumption that they must have been written, if not before the dissolution of the mo- nasteries, yet while the remembrance of them was fresh in the minds of the people. * Even in the time of Langland, pilgrimages to Walsingham were not unfavourable to the rites of Venus. Thus, in his Vision* of Pierce Plowman, fo 1 . Cermets on a fleape, tottf) tiofeetr stabes, to 31SaaIstng!)am, and lirr t temrlirs after. t i. e. their. As ye came from the holy land Of blessed Walsingham, O met you not with my true love As by the way ye came ? " How should I know your true love, That have met many a one, AS YE CAME FROM THE HOLY LAND. 99 As I came from the holy land, That have both come, and gone?" My love is neither white,* nor browne, But as the heavens faire ; 10 There is none hath her form divine, Either in earth, or ayre. " Such an one did I meet, good sir, With an angelicke face ; Who like a nymphe, a queene appeard 1 5 Both in her gait, her grace." Yes : she hath cleane forsaken me, And left me all alone ; Who some time loved me as her life, And called me her owne. 20 " What is the cause she leaves thee thus, And a new way doth take, That some times loved thee as her life, And thee her joy did make?" I that loved her all my youth, 25 Growe old now as you see ; Love liketh not the falling fruite, Nor yet the withered tree. * Sc. pale. F 2 100 AS YE CAME FROM THE HOLY LAND. For love is like a carelesse childe, Forgetting promise past : 30 He is blind, or deaf, whenere he list ; His faith is never fast. His fond desire is fickle found, And yieldes a trustlesse joye ; Wonne with a world of toil and care, 35 And lost ev'n with a toye. Such is the love of womankinde, Or LOVES faire name abusde, Beneathe which many vaine desires, And follyes are excusde. ' But true love is a lasting fire, Which viewless vestals* tend ; That burnes for ever in the soule, And knowes nor change, nor end.' * Sc. angels. HARDYKNUTE. 101 XVII. A SCOTTISH FRAGMENT. As. this fine morsel of heroic poetry hath generally past for ancient, it is here thrown to the end of our earliest pieces ; that such as doubt of its age, may the better com- pare it with other pieces of genuine antiquity. For after all, there is more than reason to suspect, that it owes most of its beauties (if not its whole existence) to the pen of a lady, within the present century. The following particu- lars may be depended on. One Mrs. Wardlaw, whose maiden name was Halket, (aunt to the late Sir Peter Hal- ket, of Pitferran, in Scotland, who was killed in America, along with General Bradock, in 1755,) pretended she had found this poem, written on shreds of paper, employed for what is called the bottoms of clues. A suspicion arose that it was her own composition. Some able judges as- serted it to be modern. The lady did in a manner acknow- ledge it to be so. Being desired to show an additional stanza, as a proof of this, she produced the two last, begin- ning with " There's nae light," &c., which were not in the copy that was first printed. The late Lord President Forbes, and Sir Gilbert Elliot, of Minto, (late Lord Justice Clerk for Scotland,) who had believed it ancient, contri- buted to the expense of publishing the first' edition, in folio, 1719. This account was transmitted from Scotland, by Sir David Dalrymple, the late Lord Hailes, who yet was of opinion, that part of the ballad may be ancient, but retouched and much enlarged by the lady above mention- ed. Indeed he had been informed, that the late William 102 HARDYKNUTE. Thompson, the Scottish musician, who published the Or- pheus Caledonius, 1733, 2 vols. 8vo. declared he had heard fragments of it repeated in his infancy, before Mrs. Ward- law's copy was heard of. The poem is here printed from the original edition, as it was prepared for the press, with the additional improve- ments. (See below, page 116.) i. STATELY slept he east the wa', And stately stept he west, Full seventy years he now had seen, Wi' scarce seven years of rest. He liv'd when Britons breach of faith 5 Wrought Scotland mickle wae : And ay his sword tauld to their cost, He was their deadlye fae. ii. High on a hill his castle stood, With ha's and tow'rs a height, 10 And goodly chambers fair to se, Where he lodged mony a knight. His dame sae peerless anes and fair, For chast and beauty deem'd, Nae marrow had in all the land, 15 Save ELBNOR the queen. HARDYKNUTE. 103 III. Full thirteen sons to him she bare, All men of valour stout : In bloody fight with sword in hand Nine lost their lives hot doubt : 20 Four yet remain, lang may they live To stand by liege and land : High was their fame, high was their might, And high was their command. IV. Great love they bare to FAIRLY fair, 25 Their sister saft and dear, Her girdle shaw'd her middle gimp, And gowden glist her hair. What waefu' wae her beauty bred ? Waefu' to young and auld, 30 Waefu' I trow to kyth and kin, As story ever tauld. v. The king of Norse in summer tyde, Puff'd up with pow'r and might, Landed in fair Scotland the isle 35 With mony a hardy knight. The tydings to our good Scots king Came, as he sat at dine, With noble chiefs in brave aray, Drinking the blood-red wine. 40 104 HARDYKNUTE. VI. " To horse, to horse, my royal liege, Your faes stand on the strand, Full twenty thousand glittering spears The king of Norse commands." Bring me my steed Mage dapple gray, 45 Our good king rose and cry'd, A trustier beast in a' the land A Scots king nevir try'd. VII. Go little page, tell Hardyknute, That lives on hill sae hie, 50 To draw his sword, the dread of faes, And haste and follow me. The little page flew swift as dart Flung by his master's arm, " Come down, come down, lord Hardyknute, 55 And rid your king frae harm." VIII. Then red red grew his dark-brown cheeks, Sae did his dark-brown brow ; His looks grew keen, as they were wont In dangers great to do ; 60 He's ta'en a horn as green as glass, And gi'en five sounds sae-shiU, That trees in green wood shook thereat, Sae loud rang ilka hill. HARDVKNUTE. 105 IX. His sons in manly sport and glee, 65 Had past that summer's morn, When low down in a grassy dale, They heard their father's horn. That horn, quo' they, ne'er sounds in peace, We've other sport to bide. 70 And soon they hy'd them up the hill. And soon were at his side. x. " Late late the yestreen I ween'd in peace To end my lengthened life, My age might well excuse my arm 75 Frae manly feats of strife ; But now that Norse do's proudly boast Fair Scotland to mthrall, It's ne'er be said of Hardyknute, He fear'd to fight or fall. 80 XI. " Robin of Rothsay, bend thy bow, Thy arrows shoot sae leel, That mony a comely countenance They've turned to deadly pale. Brade Thomas take you but your lance, 85 You need nae weapons mair, If you fight wi't as you did anes 'Gainst Westmoreland's fierce heir. F 3 106 HARDYKNUTE. XII. " And Malcolm, light of foot as stag That runs in forest wild, 90 Get me my thousands three of men Well bred to sword and shield : Bring me my horse and harnisine, My blade of mettal clear. If faes but ken'd the hand it bare, 95 They soon had fled for fear. XIII. " Farewell my dame sae peerless good, (And took her by the hand,) Fairer to me in age you seem, Than maids for beauty fam'd. 100 My youngest son shall here remain To guard these stately towers, And shut the silver bolt that keeps Sae fast your painted bowers." XIV. And first she wet her comely cheiks, 105 And then her boddice green, Her silken cords of twirtle twist, Well plett with silver sheen ; And apron set with mony a dice Of needle- wark sae rare, 110 Wove by nae hand, as ye may guess, Save that of FAIRLY fair. HARDYKNUTE. 107 XV. And he has ridden o'er muir and moss, O'er hills and mony a glen, When he came to a wounded knight 1 1 5 Making a heavy mane ; Here maun I lye, here maun I dye, By treacherie's false guiles ; Witless I was that e'er ga faith To wicked woman's smiles." 120 XVI. Sir knight, gin you were in my bower, To lean on silken seat, My lady's kindly care you'd prove, Who ne'er knew deadly hate : Herself wou'd watch you a' the day, 125 Her maids a dead of night ; And FAIRLY fair your heart wou'd chear, As she stands in your sight. XVII. Arise young knight, and mount your stead, Full lowns the shynand day: 130 Choose frae my menzie whom ye please To lead you on the way." With smileless look, and visage wan The wounded knight reply'd, ' Kind chieftain, your intent pursue, 135 For here I maun abyde. 108 HARDYKNUTE. XVIII. To me nae after day nor night Can e're be sweet or fair, But soon beneath some draping tree, Cauld death shall end my care." 140 With him nae pleading might prevail ; Brave Hardyknute to gain With fairest words, and reason strong, Strave courteously in vain. XIX. Syne he has gane far hynd out o'er 1 45 Lord Chattan's land sae wide ; That lord a worthy wight was ay, When faes his courage sey'd : Of Pictish race by mother's side, When Picts rul'd Caledon, 150 Lord Chattan claim' d the princely maid, When he sav'd Pictish crown. xx. Now with his fierce and stalwart train, He reach' d a rising hight, Quhair braid encampit on the dale, 155 Norss menzie lay in sicht. " Yonder my valiant sons and feirs Our raging revers wait, On the unconquert Scottish sward To try with us their fate. 160 HARDYKNUTE. 109 XXI. Make orisons to him that sav'd Our sauls upon the rude ; Syne bravely shaw your veins are fill'd With Caledonian blude." Then furth he drew his trusty glave, 165 While thousands all around Drawn frae their sheaths glanc'd in the sun ; And loud the bougies sound. XXII. To joyn his king adoun the hill In hast his merch he made, 170 While, playand pibrochs, minstralls meit Afore him stately strade. ' Thrice welcome valiant stoup of weir, Thy nations shield and pride ; Thy king nae reason has to fear 1 75 When thou art by his side." XXIII. When bows were bent and darts were thrawn ; For thrang scarce cou'd they flee ; The darts clove arrows as they met, The arrows dart the tree. 180 Lang did they rage and fight fu' fierce, With little skaith to mon, But bloody bloody was the field, Ere that lang day was done. 1 10 HARDYKNUTE. XXIV. The king of Scots, that sindle brook'd 1 85 The war that look'd like play, Drew his braid sword, and brake his bow, Sin bows seem'd but delay. Quoth noble Rothsay, " Mine I'll keep, I wat it's bled a score." 190 Haste up my merry men, cry'd the king, As he rode on before. XXV. The king of Norse he sought to find, With him to mense the faught, But on his forehead there did light 195 A sharp unsonsie shaft ; As he his hand put up to feel N The wound, an arrow keen, O waefu' chance ! there pinn'd his hand In midst between his een. 200 XXVI. " Revenge, revenge, cry'd Rothsay's heir, Your mail-coat sha' na bide The strength and sharpness of my dart :" Then sent it through his side. Another arrow well he mark'd, 205 It pierc'd his neck in twa, His hands then quat the silver reins. He low as earth did fa'. HARDY KNUTE. 1 1 1 XXVII. Sair bleids my liege, sair, sair he bleeds !" Again' wi' might he drew 210 And gesture dread his sturdy bow, Fast the braid arrow flew : Wae to the knight he ettled at ; Lament now queen Elgreed ; High dames too wail your darling's fall, 215 His youth and comely meed. XXVIII. ' Take aff, take aff his costly jupe (Of gold well was it twin'd, Knit like the fowler's net, through quhilk, His steelly harness shin'd,) 220 Take, Norse, that gift frae me, and bid Him venge the blood it bears; Say, if he face my bended bow, He sure nae weapon fears." XXIX, Proud Norse with giant body tall, 225 Braid shoulders and arms strong, Cry'd, "Where is Hardyknute sae fam'd, And fear'd at Britain's throne : Tho' Britons tremble at his name, I soon shall make him wail, 230 That e'er my sword was made sae sharp, Sae saft his coat of mail." 112 HAB.DYKNUTE. XXX. That brag his stout heart cou'd na bide, It lent him youthfu' micht : " I'm Hardyknute ; this day, he cry'd, 235 To Scotland's king I heght To lay thee low, as horses hoof; My word I mean to keep." Syne with the first stroke e'er he strake, He garr'd his body bleed. 240 XXXI. Norss' een like gray gosehawk's stair'd wyld, He sigh'd wi' shame and spite ; " Disgrac'd is now my far-fam'd arm That left thee power to strike :" Then ga' his head a blow sae fell, 245 It made him doun to stoup, As laigh as he to ladies us'd In courtly guise to lout. XXXII. Fu' soon he rais'd his bent body, His bow he marvell'd sair, 250 Sin blows till then on him but darr'd As touch of FAIRLY fair : Norse marvell'd too as sair as he To see his stately look ; Sae soon as e'er he strake a fae, 255 Sae soon his life he took. HARDYKNUTE. I I .> XXXIII. Where like a fire to heather set, Bauld Thomas did advance, Ane sturdy fae with look enrag'd Up toward him did prance ; 260 He spurr'd his steid through thickest ranks The hardy youth to quell, Wha stood unmov'd at his approach His fury to repell. XXXIV. That short brown shaft sae meanly trimm'd, Looks like poor Scotlands gear, 266 But dreadfull seems the rusty point !" And loud he leugh in jear. Oft Britons bood has dimm'd its shine; This point cut short their vaunt;" 270 Syne pierc'd the boaster's bearded cheek ; Nae time he took to taunt. XXXV. Short while he in his saddle swang, His stirrup was nae stay, Sae feeble hang his unbent knee 275 Sure taiken he was fey : Swith on the harden't clay he fell, Right far was heard the thud : But Thomas look't nae as he lay All waltering in his blud : 280 1 1 4 HARDYKNUTE. XXXVI. With careless gesture, mind unmov't, On rode he north the plain ; His seem in throng of fiercest strife, When winner ay the same : Nor yet his heart dames dimplet cheek 28-3 Could mease soft love to hruik, Till vengefu' Ann return'd his scorn, Then languid grew his luik. XXXVII. In thraws of death with walowit cheik All panting on the plain, 290 The fainting corps of warriours lay, Ne're to arise again ; Ne're to return to native land, Nae mair with blithsome sounds To boast the glories of the day, 295 And shaw their shining wounds. XXXVIII. On Norways coast the widowit dame May wash the rocks with tears, May lang luik ow'r the shipless seas Befor her mate appears. 300 Cease, Emma, cease to hope in vain ; Thy lord lyes in the clay ; The valiant Scots nae revers thole To carry life away. HARDYKNUTE. 115 XXXIX. Here on a lee, where stands a cross 305 Set up for monument, Thousands fu' fierce that summer's day Fill'd keen war's black intent. Let Scots, while Scots, praise Hardyknute, Let Norse the name ay dread, 310 Ay how he faught, aft how he spar'd, Shall latest ages read. XL. Now loud and chill blew th' westlin wind, Sair beat the heavy shower, Mirk grew the night ere Hardyknute 315 Wan near his stately tower. His tow'r that us'd wi' torches blaze To shine sae far at night, Seem'd now as black as mourning weed, Nae marvel sair he sigh'd. 320 " There's nae light in my lady's bower, There's nae light in my ha 1 ; Nae blink shines round my FAIRLY fair, Nor ward stands on my wa'. " What bodes it? Robert, Thomas, say;" 325 Nae answer fitts their dread. " Stand back, my sons, Fie be your guide :" But by they past with speed. 116 HARDYKNUTE. XLII. " As fast I've sped owre Scotlands faes," There ceas'd his brag of weir, 330 Sair sham'd to mind ought but his dame, And maiden FAIRLY fair. Black fear he felt, but what to fear He wist nae yet ; wi' dread Sair shook his body, sair his limbs, 335 And a' the warrior fled. %* In an elegant publication, entitled Scottish Tragic Ballads, printed by and for J. Nichols, 1781, 8vo, may be seen a continuation of the ballad of Hardyknute, by the addition of a Second Part, which hath since been acknow- ledged to be his own composition by the ingenious editor : to whom the late Sir D. Dalrymple communicated (sub- sequent to the account drawn up above in p. 101,) extracts of a letter from Sir John Bruce, of Kinross, to Lord Bin- ning, which plainly proves the pretended discoverer of the fragment of Hardyknute to have been Sir John Bruce himself. His words are, " To perform my promise, I send you a true copy of the manuscript I found some weeks ago in a vault at Dumferline. It is written on vellum, in a fair Gothic character, but so much defaced by time, as you'll find that the tenth part is not legible." He then gives the whole fragment as it was first published in 1719, save one or two stanzas, marking several passages as having pe- rished by being illegible in the old MS. Hence it appears that Sir John was the author of Hardyhnule, but after- wards used Mrs. Wardlaw to be the midwife of his poetry, and suppressed the story of the vault ; as is well observed HARDYKNUTE. 117 by the editor of the Tragic Ballads, and of Maitland's Scot. Poets, vol. i. p. cxxvii. To this gentleman we are indebted for the use of the copy, whence the second edition was afterwards printed, as the same was prepared for the press by John Clerk, M.D. of Edinburgh, an intimate companion of Lord Pre- sident Forbes. The title of the first edition was, " Hardy knute, a Frag- ment. Edinburgh, printed for James Watson, &c. 1719." folio, twelve pages. Stanzas not in the first edition are Nos. 17, 18, 20, 21, 22, 23, 34, 35, 36, 37, 41, 42. In the present impression the orthography of Dr. Clerk's copy has been preserved, and his readings carefully followed, except in a few instances, wherein the common edition appeared preferable : viz. He had in ver. 20, but. \*. 56, of harm. v. 64, every. v. 67, lo down. v. 83, That omitted. v. 89, And omitted. v. 143, With argument but vainly strave Lang.^v. 148, say'd. v. 155, incampit on the plain. v. 156, Norse squadrons. v. 158, regand revers. v. 170, his strides he bent. v. 171, minstrals playand Pi- brochs fine. v. 172, stately went. v. 182, mon. v. 196, sharp and fatal. v. 219, which. v. 241, stood wyld. stanza 39 preceded stanza 38. v. 305, There \. 313, blew westling. v. 336 had originally been, He fear'd a' cou?d be fear'd. The Editor was also informed, on the authority of Dr. David Clerk, M.D. of Edinburgh, (son of the aforesaid Dr. John Clerk,) that between the present stanzas 36 and 37, the two following had been intended, but were on ma- turer consideration omitted, and do not now appear among the MS. additions. Now darts flew wavering through slaw speed, Scarce could they reach their aim ; Or reach'd, scarce blood the round point drew, ' 1 was all but shot in vain : 1 1 8 HARDYKNUTE. Right strengthy arms forfeebled grew, Sair wrerk'd wi' that day's toils : E'en fierce-horn minds now lang'd for peace, And curs'd war's cruel broils. Yet still wars horns sounded to charge, Swords clash'd and harness rang ; But saftly sae ilk blaster blew The hills and dales fraemang. Nae echo heard in double dints, Nor the lang-winding horn ; Nae mair she blew out brade as she Did eir that summers morn. END OF THE FIRST BOOK. RELIQUES ANCIENT POETRY, SERIES THE SECOND. BOOK II. I. & 23alla& of Uurtjer, t&e $ope, a Cartrinal, and a ^Dusbanfcman. IN the former book we brought down this second series of poems as low as about the middle of the sixteenth cen- tury. We now find the Muses deeply engaged in religious controversy. The sudden revolution wrought in the opi- nions of mankind by the Reformation, is one of the most striking events in the history of the human mind. It could not but engross the attention of every individual in 120 A BALLAD OF LUTHER, THE POPE, that age. and therefore no other writings would have any chance to be read, but such as related to this grand topic. The alterations made in the established religion by Henry VIII., the sudden changes it underwent in the three suc- ceeding reigns within so short a space as eleven or twelve years, and the violent struggles between expiring Popery and growing Protestantism, could not but interest all man- kind. Accordingly every pen was engaged in the dispute. The followers of the Old and New Profession (as they were called) had their respective ballad-makers ; and every day produced some popular sonnet for or against the Reformation. The following ballad, and that entitled Little John Nobody, may serve for specimens of the writ- ings of each party. Both were written in the time of Edward VI. ; and are not the worst that were composed upon the occasion. Controversial divinity is no friend to poetic flights. Yet this ballad of " Luther and the Pope," is not altogether devoid of spirit ; it is of the dramatic kind, and the characters are tolerably well sustained ; espe- cially that of Luther, which is made to speak in a manner not unbecoming the spirit and courage of that vigorous Reformer. It is printed from the original black-letter copy, (in the Pepys collection, vol. i. folio,) to which is prefixed a large wooden cut, designed and executed by some eminent master. This is copied in miniature in the small Engraving inserted above. AVe are not to wonder that the ballad-writers of that age should be inspired with the zeal of controversy, when the very stage teemed with polemic divinity. I have now before me two very ancient quarto black-letter Plays : the one published in the time of Henry VIII., entitled IBbrrj) /Hail ; the other called Hustj) jftubctltus, printed in the reign of Edward VI. In the former of these, occasion is taken to inculcate great reverence for old mother church A CARDINAL, AND A HUSBANDMAN. 121 and her superstitions : * in the other, the poet, (one R. Wever,) with great success attacks both. So that the stage in those days literally was, what wise men have always wished it, a supplement to the pulpit. This was so much the case, that in the play of " Lusty Juventus," chapter and verse are every where quoted as formally as in a sermon : take an instance : " The Lord by his prophet Ezechiel sayeth in this wise playnlye, As in the xxxiij chapter it doth appere : Be converted, O ye children," &c. From this Play we learn that most of the young people were New Gospellers, or friends to the Reformation, and that the old were tenacious of the doctrines imbibed in their youth : for thus the Devil is introduced lamenting the downfal of superstition : * Take a specimen from his high encomiums on the priesthood. " There is no emperour, kyng, duke, ne baron That of God hath commissyon, As hath the leest preest in the world beynge. ***** God hath to them more power gyven, Than to any aungell, that is in heven ; With v. words he may consecrate Goddes body in flesshe and blode to take, And haudeleth his maker bytwene his handes. The preest byndeth and unbindeth all bandes, Both in erthe and in heven. Thou ministers all the sacramentes seven. Though we kyst thy feete thou were worthy ; Thou art the surgyan that cureth synne dedly No remedy may we fynde under God, But alone on preesthode. God gave preest that dignite, And letteth them in his stede amonge us be, Thus be they above aungels in degre." See Hawkins's Oiig. of Eng. Drama, vol. i. p. 61. VOL. II. G 122 A BALLAD OF LUTHER, THE POPE, " The olde people would believe stil in my lavves, But the yonger sort leade them a contrary way, They wyl not beleve, they playnly say, In olde traditions, and made by men," &c. And in another place Hypocrisy urges, " The worlde was never meri Since chyldren were so boulde : Now evry boy will be a teacher, The father a foole, the chyld a preacher." Of the plays above mentioned, to the first is subjoined the following printer's colophon, ^[ Cf)us en&etl) tljis moral plage of berg fBan. ^[ Imprgntrti at ILon&on in ^otolce cl)grc!)e gartre ig me ,?|ofjn ^ftot. In Mr. Garrick's collec- tion is an imperfect copy of the same play, printed by Richarde Pynson. The other is entitled, an enterlu&e calle& Uustg Jubentus: and is thus distinguished at the end: Jftnts. ?uot( K. SliBeber. Imprgntelr at HonHon in faults tfwrrfie vtarU by airatiam Dele at tf)e stgne of i^e Hamie. Of this too Mr. Garrick has an imperfect copy of a different edition. Of these two plays the reader may find some further particulars in the former volume, book ii. See " The Essay on the Origin of the English Stage ;" and the cu- rious reader will find the plays themselves printed at large in Hawkins's " Origin of the English Drama," 3 vols. Ox- ford, 1773, 12mo. THE HUSBANDMAN. LET us lift up our hartes all, And prayse the Lordes magnificence, Which hath given the wolues a fall, And is become our strong defence : A CARDINAL, AND A HUSBANDMAN. 123 For they thorowe a false pretens 5 From Christes bloude dyd all us leade,* Gettynge from every man his pence, As satisfactours for the deade. For what we with our FLAYLES coulde get To kepe our house, and servauntes ; 10 That did the Freers from us fet, And with our soules played the merchauntes : And thus they with theyr false warrantes Of our sweate have easelye lyved, That for fatnesse theyr belyes pantes, 15 So greatlye have they us deceaued. They spared not the fatherlesse, The carefull, nor the pore wydowe ; They wolde have somewhat more or lesse, If it above the ground did growe : 20 But now we Husbandmen do knowe Al their subteltye, and their false caste ; For the Lorde hath them overthrowe With his swete word now at the laste. DOCTOR MARTIN LUTHER. Thou antichrist, with thy thre crownes, 25 Hast usurped kynges powers, As having power over realmes and townes, Whom thou oughtest to serve all houres : * i. e. denied us the cup, see below, ver. 94. o2 124 A BALLAD OP LTJTHER, THE POPE, Thou thinkest by thy jugglyng colours Thou maist lykewise Gods word oppresse ; 30 As do the deceatful foulers, When they theyr nettes craftelye dresse. Thou flatterest every prince, and lord, Thretening poore men with swearde and fyre ; All those, that do followe Gods worde, 35 To make them cleve to thy desire, Theyr bokes thou burnest in flaming fire ; Cursing with boke, bell, and candell, Such as to reade them have desyre, Or with them are wyllynge to meddell. 40 Thy false power wyl I bryng down, Thou shalt not raygne many a yere, I shall dryve the from citye and towne, Even with this PEN that thou seyste here : Thou fyghtest with swerd, shylde, and speare, But I wyll fyght with Gods worde ; 46 Which is now so open and cleare, That it shall brynge the under the borde.* THE POPE. Though I brought never so many to hel, And to utter dampnacion, 50 Throughe myne ensample, and consel, Or thorow any abhominacion, * i. e. make thee knock under the table. A CARDINAL, AND A HUSBANDMAN. 125 Yet doth our lawe excuse my fashion. And thou, Luther, arte accursed ; For blamynge me, and my condicion, 55 The holy decres have the condempned. Thou stryvest against my purgatory, Because thou findest it not in scripture ; As though I by myne auctorite Myght not make one for myne honoure, 60 Knowest thou not, that I have power To make, and mar, in heaven and hell, In erth, and every creature? Whatsoever I do it must be well. As for scripture, I am above it ; 65 Am not I Gods hye vicare ? Shulde I be bounde to folowe it, As the carpenter his ruler? * Nay, nay, hereticks ye are, That will not obey my auctoritie. 70 With this SWORDE I wyll declare, That ye shal al accursed be. THE CARDINAL. I am a Cardinall of Rome, Sent from Christes hye vicary, To graunt pardon to more, and sume, 75 That wil Luther resist strongly : * I. e. his rule. 126 A BALLAD OF LUTHER, ETC. He is a greate hereticke treuly, And regardeth to much the scripture ; For he thinketh onely thereby To subdue the popes high honoure. 80 Eeceive ye this PARDON devoutely, And loke that ye agaynst him fight ; Plucke up youre herts, and be manlye, For the pope sayth ye do but ryght : And this be sure, that at one flyghte, 85 Allthough ye be overcome by chaunce, Ye shall to heaven go with greate myghte ; God can make you no resistaunce. But these heretikes for their medlynge Shall go down to hel every one ; 90 For they have not the popes blessynge, Nor regarde his holy pardon : They thinke from all destruction By Christes bloud to be saved, Fearynge not our excommunicacion, 95 Therefore shall they al be dampned. JOHN ANDERSON MY JO. 127 II. ^ntrmon mg 50. A SCOTTISH SONG. While in England verse was made the vehicle of con- troversy, and Popery was attacked in it by logical argu- ment, or stinging satire ; we may be sure the zeal of the Scottish Reformers would not suffer their pens to be idle, but many a pasquil was discharged at the Romish priests, and their enormous encroachments on property. Of this kind perhaps is the following, (preserved in Maitland's MS. Collection of Scottish poems in the Pepysian library) : " Tak a Wohster, that is leill, And a Miller, that will not steill, With ane Priest, that is not gredy, And lay ane deid corpse thame by, And, throw virtue of thame three, That deid corpse sail qwyknit be." Thus far all was fair : but the furious hatred of Popery led them to employ their rhymes in a still more licentious manner. It is a received tradition in Scotland, that at the time of the Reformation, ridiculous and obscene songs were composed to be sung by the rabble to the tunes of the most favourite hymns in the Latin service. Green Sleeves and Pudding Pies, (designed to ridicule the Popish clergy,) is said to have been one of these metamorphosed hymns : Maggy Lander was another : John Anderson my Jo was a third. The original music of all these burlesque sonnets was very fine. To give a specimen of their manner, we have inserted one of the least offensive. The reader will pardon the meanness of the composition for the sake of the anecdote, which strongly marks the spirit of the times. 128 JOHN ANDERSON MY JO. In the present edition this song is much improved by some new readings communicated by a friend ; who thinks by the " seven bairns," in stanza 2d are meant the Seven Sacraments ; five of which were the spurious offspring of mother Church ; as the first stanza contains a satirical allusion to the luxury of the Popish clergy. The adaptation of solemn church music to these ludicrous pieces, and the jumble of ideas thereby occasioned, will account for the following fact. From the Records of the General Assembly in Scotland, called The Book of the Uni- versal Kirk, p. 90, 7th July, 1568, it appears, that Thomas Bassendyne, printer in Edinburgh, printed " a psalme buik, in the end whereof was found printit ane baudy song, called Welcome Fortunes"* WOMAN. JOHN Anderson my jo, cum in as ze gae bye, And ze sail get a sheips held weel baken in a pye ; Weel baken in a pye, and the haggis in a pat ; John Anderson my jo, cum in, and ze's get that. MAN. And how doe ze, Cummer ? and how hae ze threven ? And how mony bairns hae ze ? WOM. Cummer, I hae seven. MAN. Are they to zour awin gude man ? WOM. Na, Cummer, na ; For five of tham were gotten, quhan he was awa'. * See also Biograph. Britan. 1st edit. vol. i. p. 177. LITTLE JOHN NOBODY. III. Utttle We have here a witty libel on the Reformation under King Edward VI. written about the year 1550, and pre- served in the Pepys collection, British Museum, and Strype's Memoirs of Cranmer. The author artfully de- clines entering into the merits of the cause, and wholly reflects on the lives and actions of many of the reformed. It is so easy to find flaws and imperfections in the conduct of men, even the best of them, and still easier to make general exclamations about the profligacy of the present times, that no great point is gained by arguments of that sort, unless the author could have proved that the princi- ples of the reformed Religion had a natural tendency to produce a corruption of manners ; whereas he indirectly owns, that their Reverend Father [archbishop Cranmer] had used the most proper means to stem the torrent, by giving the people access to the Scriptures, by teaching them to pray with understanding, and by publishing homi- lies, and other religious tracts. It must, however, be ac- knowledged, that our libeller had at that time sufficient room for just satire. For under the banners of the re- formed had enlisted themselves many concealed papists, who had private ends to gratify ; many that were of no religion ; many greedy courtiers, who thirsted after the possessions of the church ; and many dissolute persons, who wanted to be exempt from all ecclesiastical censures : And as these men were loudest of all others in their cries for Reformation, so in effect none obstructed the regular progress of it so much, or by their vicious lives brought o 3 130 LITTLE JOHN NOBODY. vexation and shame more on the truly venerable and pious Reformers. The reader will remark the fondness of our satirist for alliteration : in this he was guilty of no affectation or singularity; his versification is that of Pierce Plowmari* Visions, in which a recurrence of similar letters is essen- tial : to this he has only superadded rhyme, which in his time began to be the general practice. See an Essay on this very peculiar kind of metre, prefixed to book iii. in this volume. IN deeember, when the dayes draw to be short, After november, when the nights wax noysome and long; As I past by a place privily at a port, I saw one sit by himself making a song : His last* talk of trifles, who told with his tongue That few were fast i' th' faith. I ' freyned'f that freake, Whether he wanted wit, or some had done him wrong. He said, he was little John Nobody, that durst not John Nobody, quoth I, what news ? thou soon note and tell What maner men thou meane, that are so mad. He said, These gay gallants, that wil construe the gospel, As Solomon the sage, with semblance full sad ; * Perhaps He left talk. f feyned. MSS. and PC. LITTLE JOHN NOBODY. 131 To discusse divinity they nought adread ; More meet it were for them to milk kye at a fleyke. Thou lyest, quoth I, thou losel, like a leud lad. He said he was little John Nobody, that durst not speake. Its meet for every man on this matter to talk, And the glorious gospel ghostly to have in mind ; It is sothe said, that sect but much unseemly skalk ; As boyes babble in books, that in scripture are blind : Yet to their fancy soon a cause will find ; As to live in lust, in lechery to leyke : Such caitives count to become of Cains kind ;* But that I little John Nobody durst not speake. For our reverend father hath set forth an order, Our service to be said in our seignours tongue ; As Solomon the sage set forth the scripture ; Our suffrages, and services, with many a sweet song, With homilies, and godly books us among, That no stiff, stubborn stomacks we should freyke : But wretches nere worse to do poor men wrong; But that I little John Nobody dare not speake. For bribery was never so great, since born was our Lord, And whoredom was never les hated, sith Christ har- rowed hel, * Cain's kind.] So in Pierce the Plowman's Creed, the proud friars are said to be Cagracs fctnfc." Vide sig. C y. b. 132 LITTLE JOHN NOBODY. And poor men are so sore punished commonly through the world, That it would grieve any one, that good is, to hear tel. For al the homilies and good books, yet their hearts be so quel, That if a man do amisse, with mischiefe they wil him wreake ; The fashion of these new fellows it is so vile and fell : But that I little John Nobody dare not speake. Thus to live after their lust, that life would they have, And in lechery to leyke al their long life ; For al the preaching of Paul, yet many a proud knave Wil move mischiefe in their mind both to maid and wife To bring them in advoutry, or else they wil strife And in brawling about baudery, Gods commandments breake : But of these frantic il fellowes, few of them do thrife ; Though I little John Nobody dare not speake. If thou company with them, they wil currishly carp, and not care According to their foolish fantacy ; but fast wil they naught : Prayer with them is but prating; therefore they it forbear : Both almes deeds, and holiness, they hate it in their thought : LITTLE JOHN NOBODY. 133 Therefore pray we to that prince, that with his bloud us bought, That he wil mend that is amiss : for many a manful freyke Is sorry for these sects, though they say little or nought ; And that I little John Nobody dare not once speake. Thus in NO place, this NOBODY, in NO time I met, Where NO man, ' ne' * NOUGHT was, nor NOTHING did appear ; Through the sound of a synagogue for sorrow I swett, That ' Aeolus ' f through the eccho did cause me to hear. Then I drew me down into a dale whereas the dumb deer Did shiver for a shower ; but I shunted from a freyke : For I would no wight in this world wist who I were, But little John Nobody, that dare not once speake. * then. MSS. and PC. f Hercules. MSS. and PC. 134 Q. ELIZABETH'S VERSES. IV. . 3EIt?aWs Frow tootle prisoner at WRIT WITH CHARCOAL ON A SHUTTER, Are preserved by Hentzner, in that part of his Travels, which has been reprinted in so elegant a manner at Strawberry- Hill. In Hentzner' s book they were wretch- edly corrupted, but are here given as amended by his ingenious editor. The old orthography, and one or two ancient readings of Hentzner' s copy, are here restored. OH, Fortune ! how thy restlesse wavering state Hath fraught with cares my troubled witt ! Witnes this present prisonn, whither fate Could beare me, and the joys I quit. Thou causedest the guiltie to be losed 5 From bandes, wherein are innocents inclosed : Causing the guiltles to be straite reserved, And freeing those that death hath well deserved. But by her envie can be nothing wroughte, So God send to my foes all they have thoughte. 10 A.D. MDLV. ELIZABETHS, PRISONNER. Ver. 4, Could beare, is an ancient idiom, equivalent to did bear, or hath borne. See below, the Beggar of Bednal Green, ver. 57, Could say. THE HEIR OF LINNE. 135 V. ^t'r of Htnne. The original of this ballad is found in the Editor's folio MS., the breaches and defects in which, rendered the insertion of supplemental stanzas necessary. These it is hoped the reader will pardon, as indeed the completion of the story was suggested by a modern ballad on a similar subject. From the Scottish phrases here and there discernible in this poem, it should seem to have been originally com- posed beyond the Tweed. The Heir of Linne appears not to have been a lord of parliament, but a laird, whose title went along with his estate. PART THE FIRST. LITHE and listen, gentlemen, To sing a song I will beginne : It is of a lord of faire Scotland, Which was the unthrifty heire of Linne. His father was a right good lord, 5 His mother a lady of high degree ; But they, alas! were dead, him froe, And he lov'd keeping companie. To spend the daye with merry cheare, To drinke and revell every night, 10 To card and dice from eve to morne, Tt was, I ween, his hearts delighte. 136 THE HEIR OF LINNE. To ride, to runne, to rant, to roare, To alwaye spend and never spare, I wott, an' it were the king himselfe, 1 5 Of gold and fee he mote be bare. Soe fares the unthrifty lord of Linne Till all his gold is gone and spent ; And he maun selle his landes so broad, His house, and landes, and all his rent. 20 His father had a keen stewarde, And John o' the Scales was called hee : But John is become a gentel-man, And John has gott both gold and fee. Sayes, Welcome, welcome, lord of Linne, 25 Let nought disturb thy merry cheere ; Iff thou wilt sell thy landes soe broad, Good store of gold He give thee heere. My gold is gone, my money is spent ; My lande nowe take it unto thee : 30 Give me the golde, good John o' the Scales, And thine for aye my lande shall bee. Then John he did him to record draw, And John he cast him a gods-pennie ;* * i. e. earnest-money ; from the French ' denier a Dieu." At this day, when application is made to the Dean and Chapter of Carlisle to accept an exchange of the tenant under one of their leases, a THE HEIR OF LINNE. 137 But for every pounde that John agreed, 35 The lande, I wis, was well worth three. He told him the gold upon the borde, He was right glad his land to winne ; The gold is thine, the land is mine, And now lie be the lord of Linne. 40 Thus he hath sold his land soe broad, Both hill and holt, and moore and fenne, All but a poore and lonesome lodge, That stood far off in a lonely glenne. For soe he to his father hight. 45 My sonne, when I am gonne, sayd hee, Then thou wilt spend thy lande so broad, And thou wilt spend thy gold so free : But sweare me nowe upon the roode, That lonesome lodge thou'lt never spend ; 50 For when all the world doth frown on thee, Thou there shalt find a faithful friend. The heire of Linne is full of golde : And come with me, my friends, sayd hee, Let's drinke, and rant, and merry make, 55 And he that spares, ne'er mote he thee. piece of silver is presented by the new tenant, which is still called a God's-penny. THE HEIR OF LINNE. They ranted, drank, and merry made, Till all his gold it waxed thinne ; And then his friendes they slunk away ; They left the unthrifty heire of Linne. 60 He had never a penny left in his purse, Never a penny left but three, And one was brass, another was lead, And another it was white money. Nowe well-aday, sayd the heire of Linne, 65 Nowe well-aday, and woe is mee, For when I was the lord of Linne, I never wanted gold nor fee. But many a trustye friend have I, And why shold I feel dole or care ? 70 lie borrow of them all by turnes, Soe need I not be never bare. But one, I wis, was not at home ; Another had payd his gold away ; Another call'd him thriftless loone, 75 And bade him sharpely wend his way. Now well-aday, said the heire of Linne, Now well-aday, and woe is me; Ver. 63, 4, 5, &c. Sic MSS. THE HEIR OF LISNE. 139 For when I had my landes so broad, On me they liv'd right merrilee. 80 To beg my bread from door to door I wis, it were a brenning shame : To rob and steal it were a sinne : To worke my limbs I cannot frame. Now He away to lonesome lodge, 85 For there my father bade me wend j When all the world should frown on mee I there shold find a trusty friend. PART THE SECOND. AWAY then hyed the heire of Linne Oer hill and holt, and moor and fenne, Untill he came to lonesome lodge, That stood so lowe in a lonely glenne. He looked up, he looked downe, 5 In hope some comfort for to winne : But bare and lothly were the walles. Here's sorry cheare, quo' the heire of Linne. The little windowe dim and darke Was hung with ivy, brere, and yewe ; 1 No shimmering sunn here ever shone ; No halesome breeze here ever blew. 140 THE HEIR OF LINNE. No chair, ne table he mote spye, No chearful hearth, ne welcome bed, Nought save a rope with renning noose, 15 That dangling hung up o'er his head. And over it in broad letters, These words were written so plain to see : " Ah ! gracelesse wretch, hast spent thine all, And brought thyselfe to penune ? 20 " All this my boding mind misgave, I therefore left this trusty friend : Let it now sheeld thy foule disgrace, And all thy shame and sorrows end." Sorely shent wi' this rebuke, 25 Sorely shent was the heire of Linne ; His heart, I wis, was near to brast With guilt and sorrowe, shame and sinne. Never a word spake the heire of Linne, Never a word he spake but three : 30 " This is a trusty friend indeed, And is right welcome unto mee." Then round his necke the corde he drewe, And sprang aloft with his bodie : When lo ! the ceiling burst in twaine, 35 And to the ground came tumbling hee. THE HEIR OF LINNE. 141 Astonyed lay the heire of Linne, Ne knewe if he were live or dead : At length he looked, and sawe a bille, And in it a key of gold so redd. 40 He took the bill, and lookt it on, Strait good comfort found he there : Itt told him of a hole in the wall, In which there stood three chests in-fere.* Two were full of the beaten golde, 45 The third was full of white money ; And over them in broad letters These words were written so plaine to see : " Once more, my sonne, I sette thee clere ; Amend thy life and follies past ; 50 For but thou amend thee of thy life, That rope must be thy end at last." And let it bee, sayd the heire of Linne ; And let it bee, but if I amend : f For here I will make mine avow, 55 This readej shall guide me to the end. Away then went with a merry cheare, Away then went the heire of Linne ; In-fere, i. e. together. f * unless I amend. } i. e. advice, counsel. 142 THE HEIR OF LINNE. I wis, he neither ceas'd ne blanne, Till John o' the Scales house he did winne. 60 And when he came to John o' the Scales, Upp at the speere * then looked hee ; There sate three lords upon a rowe, Were drinking of the wine so free. And John himself sate at the bord-head, 65 Because now lord of Linne was hee. I pray thee, he said, good John o' the Scales, One forty pence for to lend mee. Away, away, thou thriftless loone ; Away, away, this may not bee ; 70 For Christs curse on my head, he sayd, If ever I trust thee one pennie. Then bespake the heire of Linne, To John o' the Scales wife then spake he : Madame, some almes on me bestowe, 75 I pray for sweet saint Charitie. Away, away, thou thriftless loone, I swear thou gettest no almes of mee ; V. 60, an old northern phrase. * Perhaps the hole in the door or window, by which it was sjxered, i. e. sparred, fastened, or shut. In Bale's 2d part of the Acts of Eng. Votaries, we have this phrase, (fol. 38) " The dore thereof oft tymes opened and speared agayne." THE HEIR OF LINNE. 143 For if we shold hang any losel heere, The first we wold begin with thee. 80 Then bespake a good fellowe, Which sat at John o' the Scales his bord ; Sayd, Turn againe, thou heire of Linne ; Some time thou wast a well good lord : Some time a good fellow thou hast been, 85 And sparedst not thy gold and fee ; Therefore He lend thee forty pence, And other forty if need bee. And ever, I pray thee, John o' the Scales, To let him sit in thy companie : 90 For well I wot thou hadst his land, And a good bargain it was to thee. Up then spake him John o' the Scales, All wood he answer'd him againe : Now Christs curse on my head, he sayd, 95 But I did lose by that bargaine. And here I proffer thee, heire of Linne, Before these lords so faire and free, Thou shalt have it backe again better cheape, By a hundred markes, than I had it of thee. 100 I drawe you to record, lords, he said. With that he cast him a gods pennie : 144 THE HEIR OF LINNE. Now by my fay, sayd the heire of Linne, And here, good John, is thy money. And he pull'd forth three bagges of gold, 105 And layd them down upon the bord : All woe begone was John o' the Scales, Soe shent he cold say never a word. He told him forth the good red gold, He told it forth mickle dinne. 1 10 The gold is thine, the land is mine, And now line againe the lord of Linne. Sayes, Have thou here, thou good fellowe, Forty pence thou didst lend mee : Now I am againe the lord of Linne, 115 And forty pounds I will give thee. He make the keeper of my forrest, Both of the wild deere and the tame ; For but I reward thy bounteous heart, I wis, good fellowe, I were to blame. 120 Now welladay ! sayth Joan o' the Scales : Now welladay ! and woe is my life ! Yesterday I was lady of Linne, Now Ime but John o' the Scales his wife. V. 34. of part i., and 102 of part ii., cast is the reading of the MS. GASCOIGNE'S PRAISE OF THE FAIR BRIDGES. 145 Now fare thee well, sayd the heire of Linne ; 125 Farewell now, John o' the Scales, said hee : Christs curse light on me, if ever again I bring my lands in jeopardy. ** In the present edition of this ballad, several ancient readings are restored from the folio MS. VI. praise of t&e JFatr 33rfoges, aforfoartrs iCa&g Sbantes, ON HER HAVING A SCAR IN HER FOREHEAD. George Gascoigne was a celebrated poet in the early part of Queen Elizabeth's reign, and appears to great advantage among the miscellaneous writers of that age. He was author of three or four plays, and of many smaller poems; one of the most remarkable of which is a satire in blank verse, called the Sieele-glass, 1576, 4to. Gascoigne was born in Essex, educated in both uni- versities, whence he removed to Gray's-inn ; but, dis- liking the study of the law, became first a dangler at court, and afterwards a soldier in the wars of the Low Countries. He had no great success in any of these pur- suits, as appears from a poem of his, entitled "Gascoigne's Wodmanship, written to Lord Gray of Wilton." Many of his epistles dedicatory are dated in 1575, 1576, from " his poore house in Walthamstoe : " where he died a middle- aged man in 1578, according to Anth. Wood: or rather in 146 GASCOIGNE'S PRAISE 1577, if he is the person meant in an old tract, entitled "A Remembrance of the well employed Life and Godly End of George Gascoigne, Esq. who deceased at Stamford in Lincolnshire, Oct. 7, 1577, by Geo. Whetstone, gent, an eye-witness of his godly and charitable end in this world," 4to. no date. [From a MS. of Oldys.] Mr. Thomas Warton thinks " Gascoigne has much ex- ceeded all the poets of his age in smoothness and " har- mony of versification." * But the truth is, scarce any of the earlier poets of Queen Elizabeth's time are found de- ficient in harmony and smoothness, though those qualities appear so rare in the writings of their successors. In the Paradise of dainty Devises, f (the Dodsley's Miscellany of those times,) will hardly be found one rough, or inhar- monious line : J whereas the numbers of Jonson, Donne, and most of their contemporaries, frequently offend the ear, like the filing of a saw. Perhaps this is in some measure to be accounted for from the growing pedantry of that age, and from the writers affecting to run their lines into one another, after the manner of the Latin and Greek poets. The following poem (which the elegant writer above quoted hath recommended to notice, as possessed of a delicacy rarely to be seen in that early state of our poetry) properly consists of Alexandrines of twelve and fourteen syllables, and is printed from two quarto black-letter col- lections of Gascoigne's pieces ; the first entitled " A hun- dreth sundrie flowres, bounde up in one small posie, &c. London, imprinted for Richarde Smith:" without date, but from a letter of H. W. (p. 202,) compared with the * Observations on the Faerie Queen, vol. ii. p. 168. t Printed in 1578, 1596, and perhaps oftener, in 4to. black letter. J The same is true of most of the poems in the Mirrour of Ma- gistrates, 1563, 4to., and also of Surrey's Poems, 1557. OP THE FAIR BRIDGES. 147 printer's epist. to the reader, it appears to have been pub- lished in 1572, or 3. The other is entitled " The Posies of George Gascoigne, Esq. corrected, perfected, and aug- mented by the author, 1575. Printed at London, for Richard Smith," &c. No year, but the epist. dedicat. is dated 1576. In the title-page of this last (by way of printer's, * or bookseller's device) is an ornamental wooden cut, tolerably well executed, wherein Time is represented drawing the figure of Truth out of a pit or cavern, with this legend, Occulta Veritas Tempore patet, [R. s.] This is mentioned, because it is not improbable but the accidental sight of this, or some other title-page containing the same device, suggested to Rubens that well-known design of a similar kind, which he has introduced into the Luxemburg Gal- lery, f and which has been so justly censured for the un- natural manner of its execution. The device above men- tioned, being not ill adapted to the subject of this volume, has, with some small variations, been copied ; and, to satisfy the curiosity of the reader, prefixed to book iii. * Henrie Binneman. f Le Terns decouvre la Verite. IN court whoso demaundes What dame doth most excell ; For my conceit I must needes say, Faire Bridges beares the bel. Upon whose lively cheeke, To prove my judgment true, The rose and lillie seeme to strive For equall change of hewe : H 2 148 GASCOIGNE'S PRAISE And therewithall so well Hir graces all agree ; ] No frowning cheere dare once presume In hir sweet face to bee. Although some lavishe lippes, Which like some other best, Will say, the blemishe on hir browe 15 Disgraceth all the rest. Thereto I thus replie ; God wotte, they little knovve The hidden cause of that mishap, Nor how the harm did growe : 20 For when dame Nature first Had framde hir heavenly face, And thoroughly bedecked it With goodly gleames of grace ; It lyked hir so well : 25 Lo here, quod she, a peece For perfect shape, that passeth all Appelles' worke in Greece. This bayt may chaunce to catche The greatest God of love, 30 Or mightie thundring Jove himself, That rules the roast above. OP THE FAIR BRIDGES. 149 But out, alas ! those wordes Were vaunted all in vayne : And some unseen were present there, 35 Pore Bridges, to thy pain. For Cupide, crafty hoy, Close in a corner stoode, Not blyndfold then, to gaze on hir : I gesse it did him good. 40 Yet when he felte the flame Gan kindle in his brest, And herd dame Nature boast by hir To break him of his rest. His hot newe-chosen love 45 He chaunged into hate, And sodeynly with mightie mace Gan rap hir on the pate. It greeved Nature muche To see the cruell deede : 50 Mee seemes I see hir, how she wept To see hir dearling bleede. Wei yet, quod she, this hurt Shal have some helpe I trowe : And quick with skin she coverd it, 55 That whiter is than snowe. 150 GASCOIGNE'S PRAISE OF THE FAIR BRIDGES. Wherwith Dan Cupide fled, For feare of further flame, When angel-like he saw hir shine, Whome he had smit with shame. 60 Lo, thus was Bridges hurt In cradel of hir kind. The coward Cupide brake hir browe To wreke his wounded mynd. The skar still there remains ; 65 No force, there let it bee : There is no cloude that can eclipse So bright a sunne, as she. V. 62, In cradel of hir kind : i. e. in the cradle of her family. See Warton's Observations, vol. ii. p. 137. *** The lady here celebrated was Catharine, daughter of Edmond second Lord Chandos, wife of William Lord Sands. See Collins's Peerage, vol. ii. p. 133, ed. 1779. FAIR ROSAMOND. 151 VII. jpafr Hosamonlr. Most of the circumstances in this popular story of King Henry II. and the beautiful Rosamond, have been taken for fact by our English historians ; who, unable to account for the unnatural conduct of Queen Eleanor in stimulating her sons to rebellion, have attributed it to jealousy, and supposed that Henry's amour with Rosamond was the ob- ject of that passion. Our old English annalists seem, most of them, to have followed Higden the monk of Chester, whose account, with some enlargements, is thus given by Stow. " Rosa- mond the fayre daughter of Walter lord Clifford, concu- bine to Henry II. (poisoned by queen Elianor, as some thought,) dyed at Woodstocke [A.D. 1177,] where king Henry had made for her a house of wonderfull working ; so that no man or woman might come to her, but he that was instructed by the king, or such as were right secret with him touching the matter. This house after some was named Labyrinthus, or Dedalus worke, which was wrought like unto a knot in a garden, called a Maze ;* but it was commonly said, that lastly the queene came to her by a clue of thridde, or silke, and so dealt with her, that she lived not long after: but when she was dead, she was buried at Godstow in an house of nunnes, beside Oxford, with these verses upon her tombe : HIC JACET IN TVMBA, ROSA MUNDI, NO\ ROSA MUNDA : NON REDOLET, SED OLET, Other editions read his laws. M 3 250 ARGENTILE AND CURAN. In a nunnery will I shroud mee Far from any companye : But ere my prayers have an end, be sure of this, To pray for thee and for thy love I will not miss. 90 Thus farewell, most gallant captain ! Farewell too my heart's content ! Count not Spanish ladies wanton, Though to thee my love was bent : Joy and true prosperity goe still with thee ! 95 " The like fall ever to thy share, most fair ladie." XXTV. nU uran, Is extracted from an ancient historical poem in thirteen books, entitled Albion's England, by William Warner : "An author (says a former editor) only unhappy in the choice of his subject, and measure of his verse. His poem is an epi- tome of the British history, and written with great learning, sense, and spirit ; in some places fine to an extraordinary degree, as I think will eminently appear in the ensuing episode [of Argentile andCuran,] a tale full of beautiful incidents in the romantic taste, extremely affecting, rich in ornament, wonderfully various in style ; and in short, one of the most beautiful pastorals I ever met with." [Muses' library, 1738, 8vo.] To his merit nothing can be objected, unless perhaps an affected quaintness in some of ARGEXTILE AND CURAN. 251 his expressions, and an indelicacy in some of his pastoral images. Warner is said, by A. Wood,* to have been a Warwick- shire man, and to have been educated in Oxford, at Mag- dalene-hall : as also in the latter part of his life to have been retained in the service of Henry Gary, Lord Hunsdon, to whom he dedicates his poem. However that may have been, new light is thrown upon his history, and the time and manner of his death are now ascertained by the fol- lowing extract from the parish register-book of Amwell, in Hertfordshire; which was obligingly communicated to the editor by Mr. Hoole, the very ingenious translator of Tasso, &c. [16081609.] " Master William Warner, a man of good yeares and of honest reputation ; by his profession an Atturnye of the Common Pleas ; author of Albions Eng- land, diynge suddenly in the night in his bedde, without any former complaynt or sicknesse, on thursday night beeinge the 9th daye of March ; was buried the satturday following, and lyeth in the church at the corner under the stone of Walter Ffader." Signed Tho. H assail Vicarius. Though now Warner is so seldom mentioned, his con- temporaries ranked him on a level with Spenser, and called them the Homer and Virgil of their age.f But Warner rather resembled Ovid, whose Metamorphoses he seems to have taken for his model, having deduced a per- petual poem from the Deluge down to the era of Elizabeth, full of lively digressions and entertaining episodes. And though he is sometimes harsh, affected, and obscure, he often displays a most charming and pathetic simplicity : as where he describes Eleanor's harsh treatment of Ro- samond : * Athen. Oxon. t Ibid. 252 ARGENTILE AND CTJRAN. With that she dasht her on the lippes So dyed double red : Hard was the heart that gave the blow, Soft were those lippes that bled. The edition of Albion's England here followed, was printed in 4to, 1602; said in the title-page to have been " first penned and published by William Warner, and now revised and newly enlarged by the same author." The story of Argentile and Curan is, I believe, the poet's own invention ; it is not mentioned in any of our chronicles. It was, however, so much admired, that not many years after he published it, came out a larger poem on the same sub- ject in stanzas of six lines, entitled " The most pleasant and delightful historic of Curan a prince of Danske, and the fayre princesse Argentile, daughter and heyre to Adel- bright, sometime king of Northumberland, &c. by William Webster, London, 1617," in 8 sheets, 4to. An indifferent paraphrase of the following poem. This episode of War- ner's has also been altered into the common ballad " of the two young Princes on Salisbury Plain," which is chiefly composed of Warner's lines, with a few contractions and interpolations, but all greatly for the worse. See the collection of Historical Ballads, 1727, 3 vols. 12mo. Though here subdivided into stanzas, Warner's metre is the old-fashioned Alexandrine of fourteen syllables. The reader therefore must not expect to find the close of the stanzas consulted in the pauses. THE Bruton's ' being' departed hence Seaven kingdoms here begonne, Where diversly in divers broyles The Saxons lost and wonne. AHGEXTILE AND CURAN. 253 King Edel and king Adelbright 5 In Diria jointly raigne ; In loyal concorde during life These kingly friends remaine. When Adelbright should leave his life, To Edel thus he sayes; 10 By those same bondes of happie love, That held us friends alwaies ; By our by-parted crowne, of which The moyetie is mine; By God, to whom my soule must passe, 15 And so in time may thine ; I pray thee, nay I conjure thee, To nourish, as thine owne, Thy neece, my daughter Argentile, Till she to age be growne ; 20 And then, as thou receivest it, Resigne to her my throne. A promise had for his bequest, The testator he dies : But all that Edel undertooke, 25 He afterwards denies. Yet well he ' fosters for' a time The damsell that was growne 254 ARGENTILE AND CURAN. The fairest lady under heaven ; Whose beautie being knowne, 30 A many princes seeke her love ; But none might her obtaine ; For grippell Edel to himselfe Her kingdome sought to gaine ; And for that cause from sight of such 35 He did his ward restraine. By chance one Curan, sonne unto A prince in Danske, did see The maid, with whom he fell in love, As much as man might bee. 40 Unhappie youth, what should he doe? His saint was kept in mewe ; Nor he, nor any noble-man Admitted to her vewe. One while in melancholy fits 45 He pines himselfe awaye ; Anon he thought by force of arms To win her if he maye : And still against the kings restraint Did secretly invay. 50 At length the high controller Love, Whom none may disobay, ARGENTILE AND CURAN. 255 Imbased him from lordlines Into a kitchen drudge, That so at least of life or death 55 She might become his judge. Accesse so had to see and speake, He did his love bewray, And tells his birth: her answer was, She husbandles would stay. 60 Meane while the king did beate his braines, His booty to atchieve, Nor caring what became of her, So he by her might thrive ; At last his resolution was 65 Some pessant should her wive. And (which was working to his wish) He did observe with joye How Curan, whom he thought a drudge, Scapt many an amorous toye.* 70 The king, perceiving such his veine, Promotes his vassal still, Lest that the basenesse of the man Should lett, perhaps, his will. * The construction is, " How that many an amorous toy, or foolery of love, 'scaped Curan; i. e. escaped from him, being off his guard. 256 ARGENTILE AND CURAN. Assured therefore of his love, 75 But not suspecting who The lover was, the king himselfe In his behalf did woe. The lady resolute from love, Unkindly takes that he 80 Should harre the noble, and unto So base a match agree : And therefore shifting out of doores, Departed thence by stealth ; Preferring povertie before 85 A dangerous life in wealth. When Curan heard of her escape, The anguish in his hart Was more than much, and after her From court he did depart ; 90 Forgetfull of himselfe, his birth, His country, friends, and all, And only minding (whom he mist) The foundresse of his thrall. Nor meanes he after to frequent 95 Or court, or stately townes, But solitarily to live Amongst the country grownes. ARGENTILE AND CUBAN. 257 A brace of years he lived thus, Well pleased so to live, 100 And shepherd-like to feed a flocke Himselfe did wholly give. So wasting, love, by worke, and want, Grew almost to the waine : But then began a second love, 105 The worser of the twaine. A country wench, a neatherds maid, Where Curan kept his sheepe, Did feed her drove : and now on her Was all the shepherds keepe. 110 He borrowed on the working daies His holy russets oft, And of the bacon's fat, to make His startops blacke and soft. And least his tarbox should offend, 115 He left it at the folde : Sweete growte, or whig, his bottle had, As much as it might holde. A sheeve of bread as browne as nut, And cheese as white as snow, 120 And wildings, or the seasons fruit He did in scrip bestow. Ver. 112, i. e. holy-day russets. 258 ARGENTILE AND CUHAN. And whilst his py-bald curre did sleepe, And sheep-hooke lay him by, On hollow quilles of oten straw 125 He piped melody. But when he spyed her his saint, He wip'd his greasie shooes, And clear' d the drivell from his beard, And thus the shepheard wooes. 1 30 " I have, sweet wench, a peece of cheese, As good as tooth may chawe, And bread and wildings souling well, (And therewithall did drawe His lardrie) and in ' yeaning ' see 1 35 " Yon crumpling ewe, quoth he, Did twinne this fall, and twin shouldst thou, If I might tup with thee. " Thou art too elvish, faith thou art, Too elvish and too coy : 140 Am I, I pray thee, beggarly, That suche a flocke enjoy ? " I wis I am not: yet that thou Doest hold me in disdaine Is brimme abroad, and made a gybe 145 To all that keepe this plaine. V. 135, eating. PCC. ARGENTILE AND CURAN. 259 " There be as quaint (at least that thinke Themselves as quaint) that crave The match, that thou, I wot not why, Maist, but mislik'st to have. 150 " How wouldst thou match ? (for well I wot, Thou art a female) I, Her know not here that willingly With maiden-head would die. " The plowmans labour hath no end, 155 And he a churle will prove : The craftsman hath more worke in hand Then fitteth unto love : - The merchant, traffiquing abroad, Suspects his wife at home : 160 A youth will play the wanton ; and An old man prove a mome. " Then chuse a shepheard : with the sun He doth his flocke unfold, And all the day on hill or plaine, 165 He merrie chat can hold ; " And with the sun doth folde againe ; Then jogging home betime, V 7 . 155, Her know I not her that. ed. 1602. 260 ARGENTILE AND CUBAN. He turnes a crab, or turnes a round, Or sings some merry ryme. 1 70 " Nor lacks he gleefull tales, whilst round The nut-brown bowl doth trot ; And sitteth singing care away, Till he to bed be got : " Theare sleepes he soundly all the night, 175 Forgetting morrow-cares : Nor feares he blasting of his corne, Nor uttering of his wares ; " Or stormes by seas, or stirres on land, Or cracke of credit lost : 1 80 Not spending franklier than his flocke Shall still defray the cost. " Well wot I, sooth they say, that say More quiet nights and daies The shepheard sleeps and wakes, than he 1 85 Whose cattel he doth graize. " Beleeve me, lasse, a king is but A man, and so am I: Content is worth a monarchic, And mischiefs hit the hie ; 190 V. 169, i. e. roasts a crab, or apple. V. 171, to tell, whilst round the bole doth trot. ed. 1597. AHGENTILE AND CUBAN. 261 ' As late it did a king and his Not dwelling far from hence, Who left a daughter, save thyselfe, For fair a malchless wench." Here did he pause, as if his tongue 195 Had done his heart offence. The neatresse, longing for the rest, Did egge him on to tell How faire she was, and who she was. " She bore, quoth he, the bell 200 For beautie : though I clownish am, I know what beautie is ; Or did I not, at seeing thee, I senceles were to mis. ' Her stature comely, tall ; her gate 205 Well graced ; and her wit To marvell at, not meddle with, As matchless I omit. ' A globe-like head, a gold-like haire, A forehead smooth, and hie, 210 An even nose ; on either side Did shine a grayish eie : " Two rosie cheeks, round ruddy lips, White just.set teeth within ; 262 ARGENTILE AND CUBAN. A mouth in meane ; and underneathe 215 A round and dimpled chin. " Her snowie necke, with blewish veines, Stood bolt upright upon Her portly shoulders : beating balles Her veined breasts, anon 220 " Adde more to beautie. Wand-like was Her middle falling still, And rising whereas women rise : * * * Imagine nothing ill. " And more, her long, and limber armes 225 Had white and azure wrists ; And slender fingers aunswere to Her smooth and lillie fists. " A legge in print, a pretie foot ; Conjecture of the rest : 230 For amorous eies, observing forme, Think parts obscured best. " With these, raretie ! with these Her tong of speech was spare ; But speaking, Venus seem'd to speake. 235 The balle from Ide to bear. " With Phcebe, Juno, and with both Herselfe contends in face : ARGENTILE AND CTJRAN. 263 Wheare equall mixture did not want Of milde and stately grace. 240 " Her smiles were sober, and her lookes Were chearefull unto all : Even such as neither wanton seeme, Nor waiward ; mell, nor gall. " A quiet minde, a patient moode, 245 And not disdaining any ; Not gybing, gadding, gawdy : and Sweete faculties had many. " A nimph, no tong, no heart, no eie, Might praise, might wish, might see ; 250 For life, for love, for forme ; more good, More worth, more faire than shee. " Yea such an one, as such was none, Save only she was such : Of Argentile to say the most, 255 Were to be silent much." I knew the lady very well, But worthies of such praise, The neatresse said : and muse I do, A shepheard thus should blaze 260 264 ARGENTILE AND CURAN. The ' coate' of beautie.* Credit me, Thy latter speech bewraies Thy clownish shape a coined shew. But wherefore dost thou weepe ? The shepheard wept, and she was woe, 265 And both doe silence keepe. " In troth, quoth he, I am not such, As seeming I professe : But then for her, and now for thee, I from myselfe digresse. 270 " Her loved I (wretch that I am A recreant to be) I loved her, that hated love, But now I die for thee. " At Kirkland is my fathers court, 275 And Curan is my name, In Edels court sometimes in pompe, Till love countrould the same : " But now what now ? deare heart, how now ? What ailest thou to weepe ?" 280 The damsell wept, and he was woe, And both did silence keepe. * i. e. emblazon beauty's coat. Ed. 1597, 1602, 1612, readcoote. ARGENTILE AND CUBAN. 265 I graunt, quoth she, it was too much, That you did love so much : But whom your former could not move, 285 Your second love doth touch. Thy twice-beloved Argentile Suhmitteth her to thee, And for thy double love presents Herself a single fee, 290 In passion not in person chang'd, And I, my lord, am she. They sweetly surfeiting in joy, And silent for a space, When as the extasie had end, 295 Did tenderly imbrace ; And for their wedding, and their wish Got fitting time and place. Not England (for of Hengist then Was named so this land) 300 Then Curan had an hardier knight ; His force could none withstand : Whose sheep-hooke laid apart, he then Had higher things in hand. First, making knowne his lawfull claime 305 In Argentile her right, VOL. II. N 266 CORIN'S FATE. He warr'd in Diria,* and he wonne Bernicia* too in fight : And so from trecherous Edel tooke At once his life and crowne, 310 And of Northumberland was king, Long raigning in renowne. * * During the Saxon heptarchy, the kingdonrof Northumber- land (consisting of six northern counties, besides part of Scotland) was for a long time divided into two lesser sovereignties, viz. Deira (called here Diria) which contained the southern parts, and Bernicia, comprehending those which lay north. XXV. ODorm's Only the three first stanzas of this song are ancient : these are extracted from a small quarto MS. in the Editor's possession, written in the time of Queen Elizabeth. As they seemed to want application, this has been attempted by a modern hand. CORIN, most unhappie swaine, Whither wilt thou drive thy flocke ? Little foode is on the plaine ; Full of danger is the rocke : CORIN'S FATE. 267 Wolfes and beares doe kepe the woodes ; 5 Forests tangled are with brakes : Meadowes subject are to floodes ; Moores are full of miry lakes. Yet to shun all plaine, and hill, Forest, moore, and meadow-ground, 10 Hunger will as surely kill : How may then reliefs be found ? Such is hapless Corins fate : Since my waywarde love begunne, Equall doubts begett debate 1 5 What to seeke, and what to shunne. Spare to speke, and spare to speed ; Yet to speke will move disdaine : If I see her not I bleed, Yet her sight augments my paine. 20 What may then poor Corin doe? Tell me, shepherdes, quickly e tell ; For to linger thus in woe Is the lover's sharpest hell. 268 JANE SHORE. XXVI. Though so many vulgar errors have prevailed concern- ing this celebrated courtesan, no character in history has been more perfectly handed down to us. We have her portrait drawn by two masterly pens ; the one has deli- neated the features of her person, the other those of her character and story. Sir Thomas More drew from the life, and Drayton has copied an original picture of her. The reader will pardon the length of the quotations, as they serve to correct many popular mistakes relating to her catastrophe. The first is from Sir Thomas More's history of Richard III., written in 1513, about thirty years after the death of Edward IV. "Now then by and by, as it wer for anger, not for cove- tise, the protector sent into the house of Shores wife (for her husband dwelled not with her) and spoiled her of al that ever she had, (above the value of two or three thou- sand marks,) and sent her body to prison. And when he had a while laide unto her, for the maner sake, that she went about to bewitch him, and that she was of counsel with the lord chamberlein to destroy him : in conclusion, when that no colour could fasten upon these matters, then he layd heinously to her charge the thing that herselfe could not deny, that al the world wist was true, and that natheles every man laughed at to here it then so sodainly so highly taken, that she was naught of her body. And for thys cause, (as a goodly continent prince, clene and fautless of himself, sent oute of heaven into this vicious world for the amendment of mens maners,) he caused the bishop of London to put her to open pennance, going be~ JANE SHORE. 269 fore the crosse in procession upon a sonday with a taper in her hand. In which she went in countenance and pace de- mure so womanly ; and albeit she was out of al array save her kyrtle only, yet went she so fair and lovely, namelye, while the wondering of the people caste a comly rud in her chekes, (of which she before had most misse,) that her great shame wan her much praise among those that were more amorous of her body, then curious of her soule. And many good folke also, that hated her living, and glad wer to se sin corrected, yet pittied thei more her penance then rejoiced therin, when thei considred that the protec- tor procured it more of a corrupt intent, then any virtuous affection. " This woman was born in London, worshipfully frended, honestly brought up, and very wel maryed, saving some- what to soone ; her husbande an honest citizen, yonge, and goodly, and of good substance. But forasmuche as they were coupled ere she wer wel ripe, she not very fervently loved, for whom she never longed. Which was happely the thinge, that the more easily made her encline unto the king's appetite, when he required her. Howbeit the respect of his royaltie, the hope of gay apparel, ease, pie- sure, and other wanton welth, was able soone to perse a soft tender hearte. But when the king had abused her, anon her husband (as he was an honest man, and one that could his good, not presuming to touch a kinges concu- bine) left her up to him al together. When the king died, the lord chamberlen [Hastings] toke her :* which in the * After the death of Hastings she was kept by the Marquis of Dorset, son to Edward IV.'s queen. In Rymer's Fotdera is a proclamation of Richard's, dated at Leicester, October 23, 1483, wherein a reward of 1000 marks in money, or 100 a-year in land, is offered for'taking " Thomas late marquis of Dorset," who, " not having the fear of God, nor the salvation of his own soul, before his eyes, has damnably debauched and defiled many maids, widows, and wives, and lived in actual adultery with the wife of Shore.'' 270 JANE SHORE. kinges dales, albeit he was sore enamoured upon her, yet he forbare her, either for reverence, or for a certain frendly faithfulness. " Proper she was, and faire : nothing in her body that you wold have changed, but if you would have wished her somewhat higher. Thus say thei that knew her in her youthe. Albeit some that now see her, (for yet she liveth,) deme her never to have bene wel visaged. Whose juge- ment seemeth me somewhat like, as though men should gesse the bewty of one longe before departed, by her scalpe taken out of the charnel-house ; for now is she old, lene, withered, and dried up, nothing left but ryvilde skin, and hard bone. And yet being even such, whoso wel ad- vise her visage, might gesse and devise which partes how filled, wold make it a fair face. " Yet delited not men so much in her bewty, as in her pleasant behaviour. For a proper wit had she, and could both rede wel and write ; mery in company, redy and quick of aunswer, neither mute nor ful of bable ; sometime taunting without displeasure, and not without disport. The king would say, That he had three concubines, which in three divers properties diversly excelled. One the me- riest, another the wiliest, the thirde the holiest harlot in his realme, as one whom no man could get out of the church lightly to any place, but it wer to his bed. The other two wer somewhat greater personages, and natheles of their humilite content to be nameles, and to forbere the praise of those properties ; but the meriest was the Shoris wife, in whom the king therfore toke special pleasure. For many he had, but her he loved, whose favour, to sai the trouth (for sinne it wer to belie the devil) she never Buckingham was at that time in rebellion, but as Dorset was not with him, Richard could not accuse him of treason, and therefore made a handle of these pretended debaucheries to get him appre- hended. Vide Rym. Feed. torn. xij. p. 204. JANE SHORE. 271 abused to any mans hurt, but to many a mans comfort and relief. Where the king toke displeasure, she would miti- gate and appease his mind : where men were out of favour, she wold bring them in his grace : for many, that had highly offended, shee obtained pardon : of great forfeitures she gate men remission : and finally in many weighty sutes she stode many men in gret stede, either for none or very smal rewardes, and those rather gay than rich : either for that she was content with the dede selfe well done, or for that she delited to be sued unto, and to show what she was able to do wyth the king, or for that wanton women and welthy be not alway covetous. " I doubt not some shal think this woman too sleight a thing to be written of, and set amonge the remembraunces of great matters : which thei shal specially think, that happely shal esteme her only by that thei now see her. But me semeth the chaunce so much the more worthy to be remembred, in how much she is now in the more beg- gerly condicion, unfrended and worne out of acquaintance, after good substance, after as grete favour with the prince, after as grete sute and seeking to with al those, that in those days had busynes to spede, as many other men were in their times, which be now famouse only by the infamy of their il dedes. Her doinges were not much lesse, albeit thei be muche less remembred because thei were not so evil. For men use, if they have an evil turne, to write it in marble ; and whoso doth us a good tourne, we write it in duste.* Which is not worst proved by her ; for at * These words of Sir Thomas More probably suggested to Shak- speare that proverbial reflection in Henry VIII. act iv. sc. 2. " Men's evil manners live in brass : their virtues We write in water." Shalispeare, in his play of Richard III., follows More's history of that reign, and therefore could not but eee this passage. 272 JANE SHORE. this daye shee beggeth of many at this daye living, that at this day had begged, if shee had not bene." See More's Works, folio, black letter, 1557, pp. 56, 57- Drayton has written a poetical epistle from this lady to her royal lover, and in his notes thereto he thus draws her portrait : " Her stature was meane, her haire of a dark yellow, her face round and full, her eye gray, delicate har- mony being betwixt each part's proportion, and each pro- portion's colour, her body fat, white, and smooth, her countenance cheerfull and like to her condition. The pic- ture which I have seen of hers was such as she rose out of her bed in the morning, having nothing on but a rich mantle cast under one arme over her shoulder, and sitting on a chaire, on which her naked arm did lie. What her father's name was, or where she was borne, is not certainly knowne : but Shore, a young man of right goodly person, wealth and behaviour, abandoned her bed after the king had made her his concubine. Richard III. causing her to do open penance in Paul's church-yard, commanded that no man should relieve her, which the tyrant did, not so much for his hatred to sinne, but that by making his bro- ther's life odious, he might cover his horrible treasons the more cunningly." See England's Heroical Epistles, by Michael Drayton, Esq. London, 1637, 12mo. The history of Jane Shore receives new illustration from the following letter of King Richard III., which is pre- served in the Harl. MSS. number 433, article 2378, but of which the copy transmitted to the Editor has been reduced to modern orthography, &c. It is said to have been ad- dressed to Russel, bishop of Lincoln, lord chancellor, anno 1484. By the KING. " Right Reverend Father in God, &c. signifying unto you, that it is shewed unto us, that our Servant and Soli- JANE SHORE. 273 citor Thomas Lynom, marvellously blinded and abused with the late Wife of William Shore, now living in Lud- gate by our commandment, hath made Contract of Matri- mony with her, as it is said, and intendeth to our full great marvel, to effect the same. WE, for many causes, would be sorry that he should be so disposed ; pray you therefore to send for him, and in that ye goodly may, exhort, and stir him to the contrary : And if ye find him utterly set for to marry her, and none otherwise would be advertized, then, if it may stand with the laws of the church, we be content the time of marriage be deferred to our coming next to London ; that upon sufficient Surety found of her good abearing, ye do so send for her Keeper, and dis- charge him of our said commandment, by Warrant of these, committing her to the rule, and guiding of her Fa- ther, or any other, by your direction, in the mean season. Given, &c. "RIC. Rex." It appears from two articles in the same MS. that King Richard had granted to the said Thomas Linom the office of King's Solicitor, (Article 134,) and also the Manor of Colmeworth, com. Bedf. to him his heirs male, (Article 596.) An original picture of Jane Shore, almost naked, is pre- served in the Provost's lodgings at Eton ; and another picture of her is in the Provost's Lodge at King's College, Cambridge, to both which foundations she is supposed to have done friendly offices with Edward IV. A small quarto mezzotinto print was taken from the former of these by J. Faber. The foUowing ballad is printed (with some corrections) from an old black-letter copy in the Pepys collection. Its full title is, "The woefull lamentation of Jane Shore, a goldsmith's wife in London, sometime king Edward IV. his concubine. To the tune of Live with me, &c.' *' [See 274 JAXE SHORE. the first volume.] To every stanza is annexed the follow- ing burthen : Then maids and wives in time amend, For love and beauty will have end. IF Rosamonde that was so faire, Had cause her sorrowes to declare, Then let Jane Shore with sorrowe sing, That was beloved of a king. In maiden yeares my beautye bright 5 Was loved dear of lord and knight ; But yet the love that they requir'd, It was not as my friends desir'd. My parents they, for thirst of gaine, A husband for me did obtaine ; 10 And I, their pleasure to fulfille, Was forc'd to wedd against my wille. To Matthew Shore I was a wife, Till lust brought ruine to my life ; And then my life I lewdlye spent, 15 Which makes my soul for to lament. In Lombard-street I once did dwelle, As London yet can witness welle ; Where many gallants did beholde My beautye in a shop of golde. 20 JANE SHORE. 275 I spred my plumes, as wantons doe, Some sweet and secret friende to wooe, Because chast love I did not finde Agreeing to my wanton minde. At last my name in court did ring 25 Into the eares of Englandes king, Who came and lik'd, and love requir'd, But I made coye what he desir'd : Yet Mistress Blague, a neighbour neare, Whose friendship I esteemed deare, 30 Did saye, It was a gallant thing To be beloved of a king. By her persuasions I was led, For to defile my marriage-bed, And wronge my wedded husband Shore, 35 Whom I had married yeares before. In heart and mind I did rejoyce, That I had made so sweet a choice ; And therefore did my state resigne, To be king Edward's concubine. 40 From city then to court I went, To reape the pleasures of content ; There had the joyes that love could bring, And knew the secrets of a king. 276 JANE SHORE. When I was thus advanc'd on highe 45 Commanding Edward with mine eye, For Mrs. Blague I in short space Obtainde a livinge from his grace. No friende I had but in short time I made unto promotion climbe ; 50 But yet for all this costlye pride, My husbande could not mee abide. His bed, though wronged by a king, His heart with deadlye griefe did sting ; From England then he goes away 55 To end his life beyond the sea. He could not live to see his name Impaired by my wanton shame ; Although a prince of peerlesse might Did reape the pleasure of his right. 60 Long time I lived in the courte, With lords and ladies of great sorte ; And when I smil'd all men were glad, But when I frown'd my prince grewe sad. But yet a gentle minde I bore 65 To helplesse people, that were poore ; I still redrest the orphans crye, And sav'd their lives condemnd to dye. JANE SHORE. 277 I still had ruth on widowes tears, I succour'd babes of tender yeares ; 70 And never look'd for other gaine But love and thankes for all my paine. At last my royall king did dye, And then my dayes of woe grew nighe ; When crook-back Eichard got the crowne, 75 King Edwards friends were soon put downe. I then was punisht for my sin, That I so long had lived in ; Yea, every one that was his friend, This tyrant brought to shamefull end. 80 Then for my lewd and wanton life, That made a strumpet of a wife, I penance did in Lombard-street, In shamefull manner in a sheet. Where many thousands did me viewe, 85 Who late in court my credit knewe ; Which made the teares run down my face, To thinke upon my foul disgrace. Not thus content, they took from mee My goodes, my livings, and my fee, 90 And charg'd that none should me relieve, Nor any succour to me give. 278 JANE SHORE. Then unto Mrs. Blague I went, To whom my jewels I had sent, In hope therebye to ease my want, 95 When riches fail'd, and love grew scant : But she denyed to me the same When in my need for them I came ; To recompence my former love, Out of her doores shee did me shove. 100 So love did vanish with my state, Which now my soul repents too late ; Therefore example take by mee, For friendship parts in povertie. But yet one friend among the rest, 1 05 Whom I before had seen distrest, And sav'd his life, condemn'd to die, Did give me food to succour me : For which, by lawe, it was decreed That he was hanged for that deed ; 110 His death did grieve me so much more, Than had I dyed myself therefore. Then those to whom I had done good, Durst not afford mee any food ; Whereby I begged all the day, 115 And still in streets by night I lay. JANE SHORE. 279 My gowns beset with pearl and gold, Were turn'd to simple garments old ; My chains and gems and golden rings, To filthy rags and loathsome things. 120 Thus was I scorn'd of maid and wife, For leading such a wicked life ; Both sucking babes and children small, Did make their pastime at my fall. I could not get one bit of bread, 125 Whereby my hunger might be fed : Nor drink, but such as channels yield, Or stinking ditches in the field. Thus, weary of my life, at lengthe I yielded up my vital strength 130 Within a ditch of loathsome scent, Where carrion dogs did much frequent : The which now since my dying daye, Is Shoreditch call'd, as writers saye ;* Which is a witness of my sinne, 135 For being concubine to a king. You wanton wives, that fall to lust, Be you assur'd that God is just; * But it had this name long before ; being so called from its being a common Sewer (vulgarly Shore") or drain. See Stow. 280 JANE SHORE. Whoredome shall not escape his hand, Nor pride unpunish'd in this land. 140 If God to me such shame did bring, That yielded only to a king, How shall they scape that daily run To practise sin with every one '? You husbands, match not but for love, 145 Lest some disliking after prove ; Women, be warn'd when you are wives, What plagues are due to sinful lives : Then, maids and wives, in time amend, For love and beauty will have end. CORYDON'S DOLEFUL KNELL. 281 XXVII. Corgtron's trolrful This little simple elegy is given, with some corrections, from two copies, one of which is in The golden Garland of princely Delights. The burthen of the song, DING DONG, &c. is at present appropriated to burlesque subjects, and therefore may ex- cite only ludicrous ideas in a modern reader ; but in the time of our poet, it usually accompanied the most solemn and mournful strains. Of this kind is that fine aerial dirge in Shakspeare's Tempest ; " Full fadom five thy father lies, Of his bones are corrall made ; Those are pearles that were his eyes ; Nothing of him, that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange : Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell, Harke now I heare them, Ding dong bell." " Burthen, Ding dong." I make no doubt but the poet intended to conclude the above air in a manner the most solemn and expressive of melancholy. MY Phillida, adieu love ! For evermore farewel ! Ay me ! I've lost my true love, And thus I ring her knell, 282 CORYDON'S DOLEFUL KNELL. Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong, 5 My Phillida is dead ! I'll stick a branch of willow At my fair Phillis' head. For my fair Phillida Our bridal bed was made : 10 But 'stead of silkes so gay, She in her shroud is laid. Ding, &c. Her corpse shall be attended By maides in fair array, Till the obsequies are ended, 15 And she is wrapt in clay. Ding, &c. Her herse it shall be carried By youths, that do excell ; And when that she is buried, I thus will ring her knell. 20 Ding, &c. A garland shall be framed By art and natures skill, Of sundry-colour'd flowers, In token of good-will.* Ding, &c. * It is a custom in many parts of England, to carry a flowery garland before the corpse of a woman who dies unmarried. CORYDON'S DOLEFUL KNELL. 283 And sundry-colour'd ribbands 25 On it I will bestow ; But chiefly black and yellowe : * With her to grave shall go. Ding, &c. I'll decke her tomb with flowers, The rarest ever seen, 30 And with my tears, as showers, I'll keepe them fresh and green. Ding, &c. Instead of fairest colours, Set forth with curious art,f Her image shall be painted 35 On my distressed heart. Ding, &c. And thereon shall be graven Her epitaph so faire, ' Here lies the loveliest maiden, That e'er gave shepheard care." 40 Ding, &c. * See above, preface to no. xi. book ii. p. 188. t This alludes to the painted effigies of alabaster, anciently erected upon tombs and monuments. 284 CORYDON'S DOLEFUL KNELL. In sable will I mourne ; Blacke shall be all my weede : Ay me ! I am forlorne, Now Phillida is dead ! Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong, 45 My Phillida is dead ! I'll stick a branch of willow At my fair Phillis' head. END OP THE SECOND BOOK. RELIQUES OF ANCIENT POETRY, SERIES THE SECOND. BOOK III. I. Complaint of Conscience. I SHALL begin this Third Book with an old allegoric Satire : a manner of moralizing, which, if it was not first introduced by the author of Pierce Plotcman's Visions, was at least chiefly brought into repute by that ancient satirist. It is not so generally known that the kind of verse used in this ballad hath any affinity with the peculiar metre of that writer, for which reason I shall throw toge- ther some cursory remarks on that very singular species 286 ON ALLITERATIVE METRE. of versification, the nature of which has been so little understood. ON THE ALLITERATIVE METRE, WITHOUT RHYME, IN PIERCE PLOWMAN'S VISIONS. We learn from Wormius, * that the ancient Islandic poets used a great variety of measures : he mentions 136 different kinds, without including rhyme, or a correspon- dence of final syllables : yet this was occasionally used, as appears from the Ode of Egil, which Wormius hath inserted in his book. He hath analyzed the structure of one of these kinds of verse, the harmony of which neither depended on the quantity of the syllables, like that of the ancient Greeks and Romans ; nor on the rhymes at the end, as in modern poetry ; but consisted altogether in alliteration, or a certain artful repetition of the sounds in the middle of the verses. This was adjusted according to certain rules of their pro- sody, one of which was, that every distich should contain at least three words beginning with the same letter or sound. Two of these correspondent sounds might be pla- ced either in the first or second line of the distich, and one in the other : but all three were not regularly to be crowded into one line. This will be best understood by the follow- ing examples, t " Meire og Minne " Gab Ginunga Mogu heimdaller." Enn Gras huerge." There were many other little niceties observed by the Islandic poets, who, as they retained their original lan- * Literature Runica. Hafniae 1636, 4to. 1651, fol. The Islandic language is of the same origin as our Anglo-Saxon, being both dialects of the ancient Gothic or Teutonic. Vide Hickesii Prsefat. in Grammat. Anglo-Saxon, & Moeso-Goth. 4to. 1689. t Vide Hickes Antiq. Literatur. Septentrional, torn. i. p. 217. ON ALLITERATIVE METRE. 287 guage and peculiarities longer than the other nations of Gothic race, had time to cultivate their native poetry more, and to carry it to a higher pitch of refinement, than any of the rest. Their brethren, the Anglo-Saxon poets, occasionally used the same kind of alliteration, and it is common to meet in their writings with similar examples of the foregoing rules. Take an instance or two in modern characters : * " Skeop tha and S/cyrede " Ham and Heahsetl S/cyppend ure." /feofena rikes." I know not, however, that there is any where extant an entire Saxon poem all in this measure. But distichs of this sort perpetually occur in all their poems of any length. Now, if we examine the versification of Pierce Plow- man's Visions, we shall find it constructed exactly by these rules ; and therefore each line, as printed, is in reality a distich of two verses, and will, I believe, be found distinguished as such, by some mark or other in all the ancient MSS. viz. " In a Somer Season, | when ' hot'f was the Sunne, I Shope me into Shroiibs, | as I a Sfeepe were ; In //abite as an //armet | un//oly of werkes, Went Wyde in thys world | Wonders to heare," &c. So that the author of this poem will not be found to have invented any new mode of versification, as some have sup- posed, but only to have retained that of the old Saxon and Gothic poets : which was probably never wholly laid aside, but occasionally used at different intervals : though the * Vide Hickes Antiq. Literatur. Septentrional, torn. i. p. 217. f So I would read with Mr. Warton, rather than either ' soft,' as in MS. or ' set,' as in PCC. 288 ON ALLITERATIVE METRE. ravages of time will not suffer us now to produce a regu- lar series of poems entirely written in it. There are some readers whom it may gratify to men- tion, that these Visions of Pierce \i. e. Peter] the Piow- man, are attributed to Robert Langland, a secular priest, born at Mortimer's Cleobury in Shropshire, and Fellow of Oriel College in Oxford, who flourished in the reigns of Edward III. and Richard II. and published his poem a few years after 1350. It consists of xx Passus or Breaks, * exhibiting a series of visions, which he pretends happened to him on Malvern hills in Worcestershire. The author excels in strong allegoric painting, and has with great humour, spirit, and fancy, censured most of the vices inci- dent to the several professions of life ; but he particularly inveighs against the corruptions of the clergy, and the ab- surdities of superstition. Of this work I have now before me four different editions in black-letter quarto. Three of them are printed in 1550 is l&obert Crotoleg Utorlltng t'n lalr>t rentes in ^oflwrne. It is remarkable that two of these are mentioned in the title-page as both of the se- cond impression, though they contain evident variations in every page.f The other is said to be nctolye imprgntetr after tfie authors ollre copg ---- &g toen Uogers, Feb. 21, 1561. As Langland was not the first, so neither was he the last that used this alliterative species of versification. * The poem properly contains xxi. parts : the word Passus, adopted by the author, seems only to denote the break or division between two parts, though by the ignorance of the printer applied to the parts themselves. See vol. iii. preface to ballad iii. where Pitssus seems to signify Pause. t That which seems the first of the two, is thus distinguished in the title-page, notoe tf)e seconDe tgme imprinted ijj Moierte Crotolge : the other thus, notoe tfjc srrontif time imprinted ig txoiflt iffrotolejj- In the former the folios are thus erroneously numbered, 39, 39, 41, 63, 43, 42, 45, &c. The booksellers of those days were not ostentatious of multiplying editions. ON ALLITERATIVE METRE. 289 To Bogers's edition of the Visions is subjoined a poem, which was probably writ in imitation of them, entitled Pierce the Ploughman's Crede. It begins thus : " Cros, and Curteis Christ, this beginning spede For the Faders Frendshipe, that Fourmed heaven, And through the Special Spirit, that Strong of hem tweyne, And al in one godhed endles dwelleth." The author feigns himself ignorant of his Creed, to be in- structed in which he applies to the four religious orders, viz. the gray friers of St. Francis, the black friers of St. Do- minic, the Carmelites or white friers, and the Augustines. This affords him occasion to describe in very lively colours, the sloth, ignorance, and immorality of those reverend drones. At length he meets with Pierce, a poor ploughman, who resolves his doubts, and instructs him in the principles of true religion. The author was evidently a follower of Wiccliff, whom he mentions (with honour) as no longer living.* Now that reformer died in 1384. How long after his death this poem was written, does not appear. In the Cotton library is a volume of ancient English poems, f two of which are written in this alliterative metre, and have the division of the lines into distichs dis- tinctly marked by a point, as is usual in old poetical MSS. That which stands first of the two (though perhaps the latest written) is entitled The Sege of I Erlam, [i. e. Jeru- salem,] being an old fabulous legend composed by some monk, and stuffed with marvellous figments concerning the destruction of the holy city and temple. It begins thus : " In Tiberius Tyme . the Trewe emperour Syr Sesar hymself . beSted in Rome Whyll Pylat was Provoste . under that Prynce ryche And Jewes Justice also . of Judeas loude * Signature C it. f Caligula A. ij. fol. 109, 123. VOL. II. O 290 ON ALLITEKATIVE METRE. Jferode under empere . as Herytage wolde tfyng," &c. The other is entitled Chevalere Assigne, [or De Cigne,] that is, " The Knight of the Swan," being an ancient romance, beginning thus : " All-TFeldynge God . JFhene it is his Wylle Wele he Wereih his JFerke . With his owene honde For ofte Harmes were flente . that Helpe wene myzte Nere the Hyznes of Hym , that lengeth in flevene For this," &c. Among Mr. Garrick's collection of old Plays * is a prose narrative of the adventures of this same Knight of the Swan, " newly translated out of Frenshe into Englyshe, at thinstigacion of the puyssaunt and illustryous prynce, lorde Edward duke of Buckynghame." This lord, it seems, had a peculiar interest in the book, for in the preface the translator tells us, that this " highe dygne and illustryous prynce my lorde Edwarde by the grace of god Duke of Buckyngham, erle of Hereforde, Stafforde, and North- ampton, desyrnge cotydyally to encrease and augment the name and fame of such as were relucent in vertuous feates and triumphaunt actes of chyvalry, and to encourage and styre every lusty and gentell herte by the exemply- ficacyon of the same, havyng a goodli booke of the highe and miraculous histori of a famous and puyssaunt kynge, named Oryant, sometime reynynge in the parties of be- yonde the sea, havynge to his wife a noble lady ; of whome she conceyved sixe sonnes and a daughter, and chylded of them at one only time ; at whose byrthe echone of them had a chayne of sylver at their neckes, the whiche were all tourned by the provydence of god into whyte swannes, save one, of the whiche this present hystory is compyled, named Helyas, the knight of the swanne, * K. vol. x. ON ALLITERATIVE METRE. 291 of whome linially is dyscended my sayde lorde. The whiche ententifly to have the sayde hystory more amply and unyversally knowen in thys hys natif countrie, as it is in other, hath of hys hie bountie by some of his faith- ful and trusti servauntes cohorted mi mayster Wynkin de Worde * to put the said vertuous hystori in prynte .... at whose instigacion and stiring I (Roberte Copland) have me applied, moiening the helpe of god, to reduce and translate it into our maternal and vulgare english tonge after the capacite and rudenesse of my weke entendement." A curious picture of the times ! While in Italy lite- rature and the fine arts were ready to burst forth with classical splendour under Leo X., the first peer of this realm was proud to derive his pedigree from a fabulous knight of the swan, f To return to the metre of Pierce Plowman : In the folio MS. so often quoted in these volumes, are two poems writ- ten in that species of versification. One of these is an ancient allegorical poem, entitled Death and Life, (in two fitts or parts, containing 458 distichs,) which, for aught that appears, may have been written as early, if not be- fore, the time of Langland. The first forty lines are broke, as they should be, into distichs, a distinction that is neg- lected in the remaining part of the transcript, in order, I suppose, to save room. It begins, " Christ Christen king, that on the Crosse tholed ; Hadd Paines and Passyons to defend our soules ; * W. de Worde's edit, is in 1512. See Ames, p. 92. Mr. G.'s copy is " if ImprtntcU at HonDon fcn me MSBlItam Copland. t He is said in the story-book to be the grandfather of Godfrey of Boulogne, through whom, I suppose the duke made out his rela- tion to him. This duke was beheaded May 17, 1521, 13 Henry VIII. o2 292 ON ALLITERATIVE METRE. Give us Grace on the Ground the Greatlye to serve, For that Royall Red blood that Rann from thy side." The subject of this piece is a vision, wherein the poet sees a contest for superiority between " our lady Dame LIFE," and the " ugly fiend Dame DEATH ;" who with their seve- ral attributes and concomitants are personified in a fine vein of allegoric painting. Part of the description of Dame LIFE is, " Shee was Brighter of her Blee, then was the Bright sonn : Her Rudd Redder then the Rose, that on the Rise hangeth : Meekely smiling with her Mouth, and Merry in her lookes ; Ever Laughing for Love, as shee Like would. And as shee came by the Bankes, the Boughes eche one They Lowted to that Ladye, and Layd forth their branches ; Blossomes and Burgens Breathed full sweete ; Flowers Flourished in the Frith, where shee Forth stepped ; And the Grasse, that was Gray, Greened belive." DEATH is afterwards sketched out with a no less bold and original pencil. The other poem is that which is quoted in pp. 29, 30, of this volume, and which was probably the last that was ever written in this kind of metre in its original simpli- city, unaccompanied with rhyme. It should have been observed above, in page 29, that in this poem the lines are throughout divided into distichs, thus : ON ALLITERATIVE METRE. 293 " Grant Gracious God, Grant me this time," &c. It is entitled Scottish F elide (in 2 FITTS, 420 distichs,) containing a very circumstantial narrative of the battle of Flodden, fought Sept. 9, 1513 : at which the author seems to have been present, from his speaking in the first person plural : " Then WE !Tild downe OUR TTents, that Told were a thousand." In the conclusion of the poem he gives this account of himself; " He was a Gentleman by Jesu, that this Gest* made:' Which Say but as he Saydf for Sooth and uoe other. At -Bagily that Beanie his Biding place had ; And his ancestors of old time have yearded J theire longe, Before William Conquerour this Cuntry did inbabitt. Jesus Bring ' them'$ to Blisse, that Brought us forth ot BALE, That hath /fearkned me Heare or Heard my TALE." The village of Bagily or Baguleigh is in Cheshire, and had belonged to the ancient family of Legh for two centu- ries before the battle of Flodden. Indeed, that the author Jest. MS. t Probably corrupted for " Says but as he Saw." ; Yearded, t. e. buried, earthed, carded. It is common to pro- nounce " earth," in some parts of England, "yearth," particularly in the North. Pitscottie, speaking of James III., slain at Ban- nockburn, says, " Nae man wot whar they yearded him.'' ' us.' MS. In the second line above, the MS. has ' bidding.' 294 ON ALLITERATIVE METRE. was of that country, appears from other passages in the body of the poem, particularly from the pains he takes to wipe off a stain from the Cheshiremen, who, it seems, ran away in that battle, and from his encomiums on the Stan- leys, Earls of Derby, who usually headed that county. He laments the death of James Stanley, bishop of Ely, as what had recently happened when this poem was written ; which serves to ascertain its date, for that prelate died March 22, 1514-5. Thus have we traced the Alliterative Measure so low as the sixteenth century. It is remarkable that all such poets as used this kind of metre, retained along with it many peculiar Saxon idioms, particularly such as were appropriated to poetry : this deserves the attention of those who are desirous to recover the laws of the ancient Saxon Poesy, usually given up as inexplicable : I am of opinion that they will find what they seek in the metre of Pierce Plowman.* About the beginning of the sixteenth century, this kind of versification began to change its form : the author of Scottish Field, we see, concludes his poem with a couplet in rhyme : this was an innovation that did but prepare the way for the general admission of that more modish orna- ment ; till at length the old uncouth verse of the ancient writers would no longer go down without it. Yet when rhyme began to be superadded, all the niceties of allitera- tion were at first retained along with it ; and the song of Little John Nobody exhibits this union very clearly. By degrees the correspondence of final sounds engrossing the whole attention of the poet, and fully satisfying the reader, the internal embellishment of alliteration was no longer studied, and thus was this kind of metre at length swal- lowed up and lost in our common Burlesque Alexandrine, * And in that of Robert of Gloucester. See the next note. OX ALLITERATIVE METRE. 295 or Anapestic verse, * now never used but in ballads and pieces of light humour, as in the following song of Con- science, and in that well-known doggrel, " A cobler there was, and he lived in a stall.'' But although this kind of measure hath with us been thus degraded, it still retains among the French its an- cient dignity ; their grand heroic verse of twelve sylla- bles f is the same genuine offspring of the old alliterative metre of the ancient Gothic and Francic poets, stript like our Anapestic of its alliteration, and ornamented with rhyme : but with this difference, that whereas this kind of ver.se hath been applied by us only to light and trivial * Consisting of four anapests, ( w i - ) in which the accent rests upon every third syllable. This kind of verse, which I also call the Burlesque Alexandrine, (to distinguish it from the other Alexandrines of 11 and 14 syllables, the parents of our lyric mea- sure : see examples, page 147, &c.) was early applied by Robert of Gloucester to serious subjects. That writer's metre, like this of Langlaud's, is formed on the Saxon models (each verse of his containing a Saxon distich) ; only instead of the internal allitera- tions adopted by Langland, he rather chose final rhymes, as the French poets have done since. Take a specimen. " The Saxons tho in ther power, tho thii were so rive, Seve kingdoms made in Engelonde, and sutlie but vive : The king of Northomberlond, and of Eastangle also, Of Kent, and of Westsex, and of the March, therto." Robert of Gloucester wrote in the western dialect, and his language differs exceedingly from that of other contemporary writers, who resided in the metropolis, or in the midland counties. Had the Heptarchy continued, our English language would probably have been as much distinguished for its different dialects as the Greek ; or at least as that of the several independent states of Italy. t Or of thirteen syllables, in what they call a feminine verse. It is remarkable that the French alone have retained this old Go- thic metre for their serious poems ; while the English, Spaniards, <\c, have adopted the Italic verse of ten syllables, although the Spaniards, as well as we, anciently used a short-lined metre. I 296 ON ALLITERATIVE METRE. subjects, to which by its quick and lively measure it seemed best adapted, our poets have let it remain in a more lax unconfined state,* as a greater degree of severity and strictness would have been inconsistent with the light and airy subjects to which they have applied it. On the other hand, the French having retained this verse as the vehicle of their epic and tragic flights, in order to give it a stateliness and dignity, were obliged to confine it to more exact laws of scansion ; they have therefore limited it to the number of twelve syllables ; and by making the caesura or pause as full and distinct as possible, and by other severe restrictions, have given it all the solemnity of which it was capable. The harmony of both, however, depends so much on the same flow of cadence and disposal of the pause, that they appear plainly to be of the same original ; and every French heroic verse evidently consists of the ancient distich of their Francic ancestors : which, by the way, will account to us why this verse of the French so naturally resolves itself into two complete he- mistichs. And indeed by making the caesura or pause I believe the success with which Petrarch, and perhaps one or two others, first used the heroic verse of ten syllables in Italian poesy, recommended it to the Spanish writers ; as it also did to our Chau- cer, who first attempted it in English ; and to his successors Lord Surrey, Sir Thomas Wyat, &c. ; who afterwards improved it and brought it to perfection. To Lord Surrey we also owe the first introduction of blank verse in his versions of the second and fourth Books of the ^Eneid, 1557, 4to. * Thus our poets use this verse indifferently with 12, 11, and even 10 syllables. For though regularly it consists of 4 anapests ( o u - ) or twelve syllables, yet they frequently retrench a sylla- ble from the first or third anapest ; and sometimes from both ; as in these instances from Prior, and from the following song of Conscience : Who has eer been at Paris, must needs know the Greve, The fatal retreat of th' unfortunate brave. He slept to him straight, and did him require. ON ALLITERATIVE METRE. 297 always to rest on the last syllable of a word, and by making a kind of pause in the sense, the French poets do in effect reduce their hemistichs to two distinct and inde- pendent verses : and some of their old poets have gone so far as to make the two hemistichs rhyme to each other.* After all, the old alliterative and anapestic metre of the English poets, being chiefly used in a barbarous age, and in a rude unpolished language, abounds with verses de- fective in length, proportion, and harmony ; and therefore cannot enter into a comparison with the correct versifi- cation of the best modern French writers ; but making allowances for these defects, that sort of metre runs with a cadence so exactly resembling the French heroic Alex- andrine, that I believe no peculiarities of their versifica- tion can be produced which cannot be exactly matched in the alliterative metre. I shall give, by way of example, a few lines from the modern French poets, accommodated with parallels from the ancient poem of Life and Death ; in these I shall denote the caesura or pause by a perpen- dicular line, and the cadence by the marks of the Latin quantity. Le sUcclsfat toujoiirs I un enfant de r&udace ; All shall drye with the dints | that I deal with my hands. Uhomme prudent voit Irop | I'lllusiSn 1% suit, Yonder damsel is death | that dresseth her to smite. U intrepide voit rnieux \ Zt II fantome fuit.-\- When she dolefully saw | how she dang downe hir f olke. Meme atix yeux de. flnjiiste \ un injuste est horrible.^ Then she cast up a crye | to the high king of heaven. * See instances in L' Hist, de la Poesie Franfoise par Massieu, &c. In the same book are also specimens of alliterative French verses. t Catalina, A. 3. $ Boileau Sat. O 3 298 ON ALLITERATIVE METRE. Du mensonge toujours \ K vrai dZmeure maitrZ, Thou shalt bitterlye bye | or else the booke faileth. Pour paroitre honnete homme \ en un mot, tlfaut I" ttre.\ Thus I fared throughe a fry the I where the flowers were I manye. To conclude : the metre of Pierce Ploumans Visions has no kind of affinity with what is commonly called blank verse ; yet has it a sort of harmony of its own, pro- ceeding not so much from its alliteration, as from the artful disposal of its cadence, and the contrivance of its pause ; so that when the ear is a little accustomed to it, it is by no means unpleasing ; but claims all the merit of the French heroic numbers, only far less polished ; being sweetened, instead of their final rhymes, with the internal recurrence of similar sounds. This Essay will receive illustration from another speci- men in Warton's History of English Poetry, vol. i. page 309, being the fragment of a MS. poem on the subject of Alexander the Great, in the Bodleian Library, which he supposes to be the same with number 44, in the Ashmol. MS. containing 27 passus, and beginning thus : Whener folk fastid [feasted, qu.] and fed, fayne wolde thei her [i. e. hear] Some farand thing, &c. It is well observed by Mr. Tyrwhitt, on Chaucer's sneer at this old alliterative metre : (vol. iii. p. 305.) viz. I am a Sotherne [i. e. Southern] man, I cannot geste, rom, ram, raf, by my letter, that the fondness for this species of versification, &c. was retained longest in the Northern provinces : and that the author of Pierce Plowman's Visions is, in the best MSS., called William, without any surname. See vol. iv. p. 74. * Boil. Sat. 11. ON ALLITERATIVE METRE. 299 ADDITIONS TO THE ESSAY ON THE ALLITERATIVE METRE. Since the foregoing Essay was first printed, the Editor hath met with some additional examples of the old allite- rative metre. The first is in MS.* which begins thus : " Crist Crowned Ayng, that on Cros didest.t And art Comfort of all Care, thow | kind go out of Cours, With thi Halwes in Heven fleried mote thu bt>, And thy Worshipful TFerkes Worshiped evre, That suche Sondry Signes Shewest unto man, In Dremyng, in Drecchyng, and in Derke swevenes." The author, from this proemium, takes occasion to give an account of a dream that happened to himself; which he introduces with the following circumstances : " Ones y me Ordayned, as y have Ofte doon, With Frendes, and Felawes, Frendemen, and other ; And Caught me in a Company on Corpus Christi even, .Six, other || Aeven myle, oute of .S'uthamplon, To take Melodye, and Mirthes, among my Makes ; With Redyng of ROMAUNCES, and flevelyng among, The -Dym of the Derknesse Drewe me into the west ; And beGon for to spryng in the Grey day. Than Lift y up my Lyddes, and Loked in the sky, And Jfnewe by the tfende Cours, hit clered in the est: Blyve y Busked me down, and to Eed went, For to Comforte my .Kynde, and Cacche a slepe." * In a small 4to. MS. containing 38 leaves, in private hands. t Didst dye. f Though. Being overpowered. || . e. either, or. 300 ON ALLITERATIVE METRE. He then describes his dream : " Methought that yffoved on High on an Jfill, And loked Doun on a Dale Depest of othre ; Ther y Sawe in my Sighte a Selcouthe peple ; The Multitude was so Mbche, it Mighte not be nombred. Methoughte y herd a Crowned Kyng, of his Comunes axe A iS'oleyne* Subsidie, to Susteyne his werres. ***** With that a Clerk /fueled adowne and Carped these wordes, Liege Lord, yif it you Like to Listen a while, Som Sawes of Salomon y shall you Shewe Sone." The writer then gives a solemn lecture to kings on the art of governing. From the demand of subsidies ' to sus- teyne his werres,' I am inclined to believe this poem was composed in the reign of King Henry V., as the MS. ap- pears from a subsequent entry to have been written before the 9th of Henry VI. The whole poem contains but 146 lines. The Alliterative Metre was no less popular among the old Scottish poets, than with their brethren on this side the Tweed. In Maitland's Collection of ancient Scottish Poems, MS. in the Pepysian library, is a very long poem in this species of versification, thus inscribed : HEIR begins the Tretis of the Twa Marriit Wemen, and the Wedo, compylit be Maister William Dunbar.'f' " Upon the Midsummer evven Mirriest of nichtis I Muvit furth alane quhen as Midnight was past * Solemn. f Since the above was written, this poem hath been printed in " Ancient Scottish Poems, &c. from the MS. Col- lections of Sir R. Maitland, of Lethington, knight, of Londou, 1786," 2 vols. 12mo. The two first lines are here corrected by that edition. ON ALLITERATIVE METRE. 301 Besyd ane Gudlie Grene Garth,* full of Gay flouris Hegeitf of ane Huge Hicht with Hawthorne treeis Quairon ane -Bird on ane Bransche so -Birst out hir notis That nevir ane Blythfuller Bird was on the BeucheJ hard," &c. The author pretends to overhear three gossips sitting in an arbour, and revealing all their secret methods of allur- ing and governing the other sex; it is a severe and humor- ous satire on bad women, and nothing inferior to Chaucer's Prologue to his Wife of Bath's Tale. As Dunbar lived till about the middle of the sixteenth century, this poem was probably composed after Scottish Field, (described above in p. 293,) which is the latest specimen I have met with written in England. This poem contains about five hun- dred lines. But the current use of the Alliterative Metre in Scotland, appears more particularly from those popular vulgar pro- phecies, which are still printed for the use of the lower peo- ple t in Scotland, under the names of Thomas the Rymer, Marvellous Merling, &c. This collection seems to have been put together after the accession of James I. to the crown of England, and most of the pieces in it are in the metre of Pierce Plowman's Visions. The first of them begins thus : " Merling sayes in his book, who will .Read .Right, Although his Sayings be uncouth, they Shall be true found. In the seventh chapter, read Whoso TFill, One thousand and more after Christ's birth," &c. And the Prophexie of Beid : " Betwixt the chief of Summer and the Sad winter ; Before the Heat of summer Happen shall a war That Europ's lauds Earnestly shall be wrought And Earnest Envy shall last but a while," &c. * Garden. f Hedged. j Bough. 302 ON ALLITERATIVE METRE. So again the Prophesie of Berlington : " When the Ruby is Raised, Rest is there none, But much Rancour shall Rise in River and plain, Much Sorrow is Seen through a Suth-hound That beares Homes in his Head like a wyld ffart," &c. In like metre is the Prophesie of Waldhave : " Upon Lowdou Law alone as I Lay, Looking to the Lennox, as me Lief thought, The first Morning of May, Medicine to seek For Malice and Melody that Moved me sore," &c. And lastly, that entitled the Prophesie of Gildas ; " When holy kirk is Wracked and Will has no Wit And Pastors are Pluckt, and Pil'd without Pity When Idolatry Js In ENS and RE And spiritual pastours are vexed away," &c. It will be observed in the foregoing specimens, that the alliteration is extremely neglected, except in the third and fourth instances ; altough all the rest are written in imita- tion of the cadence used in this kind of metre. It may perhaps appear from an attentive perusal, that the poems ascribed to Berlington and Waldhave are more ancient than the others : indeed, the first and fifth appear evidently to have been new modelled, if not entirely composed about the beginning of the last century, and are probably the latest attempts ever made in this species of verse. In this and the foregoing Essay are mentioned all the specimens I have met with of the Alliterative Metre with- out rhyme ; but instances occur sometimes in old manu- scripts, of poems written both with final rhymes and the internal cadence and alliterations of the metre of Pierce Plowman. END OF THE ESSAY. THE COMPLAINT OF CONSCIENCE. 303 The following Song, entitled The Complaint of Con- science, is printed from the Editor's folio manuscript. Some corruptions in the old copy are here corrected ; but with notice to the reader wherever it was judged ne- cessary, by inclosing the corrections between inverted ' commas.' As I walked of late by ' an ' wood side, To God for to meditate was my entent ; Where under a hawthorne I suddenlye spyed A silly poore creature ragged and rent, With bloody teares his face was besprent, 5 His fleshe and his color consumed away, And his garments they were all mire, mucke, and clay. This made me muse, and much ' to ' desire To know what kind of man hee shold bee ; I stept to him straight, and did him require 10 His name and his secretts to shew unto mee. His head he cast up, and wooful was hee, My name, quoth he, is the cause of my care, And makes me scorned, and left here so bare. Then straightway he turnd him, and prayd ' me ' sit downe, 15 And I will, saithe he, declare my whole greefe ; Ver. l, one. MS. V. 15, him. MS. 304 THE COMPLAINT OP CONSCIENCE. My name is called CONSCIENCE : wheratt he did frowne, He pined to repeate it, and grinded his teethe, ' Thoughe now, silly wretche, I'm denyed all releef,' * Yet' while I was young, and tender of yeeres, 20 I was entertained with kinges, and with peeres. There was none in the court that lived in such fame, For with the kings councell ' I ' sate in commission ; Dukes, earles, and barrons esteem'd of my name; And how that I liv'd there needs no repetition : 25 I was ever holden in honest condition, For howsoever the lawes went in Westminster-hall, When sentence was given, for me they wold call. No incomes at all the landlords wold take, But one pore peny, that was their fine ; 30 And that they acknowledged to be for my sake. The poore wold doe nothing without councell mine : I ruled the world with the right line : For nothing was passed betweene foe and friend, But Conscience was called to bee at ' the ' end. 35 Noe bargaines, nor merchandize merchants wold make But I was called a wittenesse therto : No use for noe money, nor forfeit wold take, But I wold controule them, if that they did soe : ' And' that makes me live now in great woe, 40 V. 19, not in MS. V. 23, he sate. MS. V. 35, an end. MS. THE COMPLAINT OF CONSCIENCE. 305 For then came in Pride, Sathan's disciple, That is now entertained with all kind of people. He brought with him three, whose names ' thus they call,' That is Covetousnes, Lecherye, Usury, beside : They never prevail'd, till they had wrought my downe-fall : 45 Soe Pride was entertained, but Conscience decried, And ' now ever since ' abroad have I tryed To have had entertainment with some one or other ; But I am rejected, and scorned of my brother. Then went I to the Court the gallants to winn, 50 But the porter kept me out of the gate : To Bartlemew Spittle to pray for my sinne, They bade me goe packe, it was fitt for my state ; Goe, goe, threed-bare Conscience, and seeke thee a mate. Good Lord, long preserve my king, prince, and queene, 55 With whom evermore I esteemed have been. Then went I to London, where once I did ' dwell ' : But they bade away with me, when they knew my name; For he will undoe us to bye and to sell ! V. 43, they be these. MS. V. 46, was derided. MS. V. 53, packe me. MS. V. 57, wonne. MS. 306 THE COMPLAINT OF CONSCIENCE. They bade me goe pack me, and hye me for shame : 60 They lought at my raggs, and there had good game ; This is old threed-bare Conscience, that dwelt with saint Peter : But they wold not admitt me to be a chimney-sweeper. Not one wold receive me, the Lord ' he' doth know : I having but one poor pennye in my purse, 65 On an awle and some patches I did it bestow ; ' For ' I thought better cobble shooes than doe worse. Straight then all the coblers began for to curse, And by statute wold prove me a rogue, and forlorne, And whipp me out of towne to ' seeke' where I was borne. 70 Then did I remember, and call to my minde, The Court of Conscience where once I did sit : Not doubting but there I some favor shold find, For my name and the place agreed soe fit ; But there of my purpose I fayled a whit, 75 For ' thoughe ' the judge us'd my name in everye ' commission," The lawyers with their quillets wold get 'my' dis- Then Westminster-hall was noe place for me : Good lord ! how the lawyers began to assemble, V. 70, see. MS. V. 76, condicion. MS. V. 77, get a. MS. THE COMPLAINT OF CONSCIENCE. 307 And fearfull they were, lest there I shold bee ! 80 The silly poore clarkes began for to tremble ; I showed them my cause, and did not dissemble; Soe they gave me some money my charges to beare, But swore me on a booke I must never come there. Next the Merchants said, Counterfeite, get thee 85 away, Dost thou remember how wee thee fond? We banisht thee the country beyond the salt sea, And sett thee on shore in the New-found land ; And there thou and wee most friendly shook hand, And we were right glad when thou didst refuse us ; For when we wold reape profitt here thou woldst accuse us. 91 Then had I noe way, but for to goe on To Gentlemens houses of an ancyent name ; Declaring my greeffes, and there I made nioane, ' Telling ' how their forefathers held me in fame : 9-5 And at letting their farmes ' how always I came.' They sayd, Fye upon thee ! we may thee curse : ' Theire' leases continue, and we fare the worse. And then I was forced a begging to goe To husbandmens houses, who greeved right sore, 100 V. 95, And how. MS. 308 THE COMPLAINT OF CONSCIENCE. And sware that their landlords had plagued them so, That they were not able to keepe open doore, Nor nothing had left to give to the poore : Therefore to this wood I doe me repayre, Where hepps and hawes, that is my b.est fare. 1 05 Yet within this same desert some comfort I have Of Mercy, of Pittye, and of Almes-deeds ; Who have vowed to company me to my grave. Wee are ' all ' put to silence, and live upon weeds, ' And hence such cold house-keeping proceeds ; ' 110 Our banishment is its utter decay, The which the riche glutton will answer one day. Why then, I said to him, me-thinks it were best To goe to the Clergie ; for dailye they preach Eche man to love you above all the rest ; 115 Of Mercye, and Pittie, and Almes-' deeds,' they teach. 0, said he, noe matter of a pin what they preach, For their wives and their children soe hange them upon, That whosoever gives almes they will* give none. Then laid he him down, and turned him away, 120 And prayd me to goe, and leave him to rest. V. 101, so sore. MS. V. 109. ill. MS. V. 110. not in MS. V. 119, almes-deeds. MS. * We ought in justice and truth to read ' can.' PLAIN TRUTH, AND BLIND IGNORANCE. 309 I told him, I haplie might yet see the day For him and his fellowes to live with the best. First, said he, banish Pride, then all England were blest : For then those wold love us, that now sell their land, 125 And then good ' house-keeping wold revive' out of hand. V. 126, houses every where wold be kept. MS. II. , anfc 23Im& This excellent old ballad is preserved in the little ancient Miscellany, entitled The Garland of Goodwill. Ignorance is here made to speak in the broad Somerset- shire dialect. The scene we may suppose to be Glaston- bury Abbey. TRUTH. GOD speed you, ancient father, And give you a good daye ; What is the cause, I praye you, So sadly here you staye ? And that you keep such gazing 5 On this decayed place, The which, for superstition, Good princes down did raze ? 310 PLAIN TRUTH, AND IGNORANCE. Chill tell thee, by my vazen,* That zometimes che have knowne 10 A vair and goodly abbey Stand here of bricke and stone ; And many a holy vrier, As ich may say to thee, Within these goodly cloysters 15 Che did full often zee. TRUTH. Then I must tell thee, father, In truthe and veritie, A sorte of greater hypocrites Thou couldst not likely see ; 20 Deceiving of the simple With false and feigned lies : But such an order truly Christ never did devise. IGNORANCE. Ah ! ah ! che zmell thee now, man ; 25 Che know well what thou art ; A vellow of mean learning, Thee was not worth a vart : Vor when we had the old lawe, A merry world was then ; 30 t. e. faithen : as in the midland counties they say housen, closen, for houses, closes. A. BLIND IGNORANCE. 31 1 And every thing was plenty Among all zorts of men. TRUTH. Thou givest me an answer, As did the Jewes sometimes Unto the prophet Jeremye, 35 When he accus'd their crimes : 'Twas merry, sayd the people, And joy full in our rea'me, When we did offer spice-cakes Unto the queen of heav'n. 40 IGNORANCE. Chill tell thee what, good vellowe, Before the vriers went hence, A bushell of the best wheate Was zold vor vourteen pence ; And vorty egges a penny, 45 That were both good and newe ; And this che zay my zelf have zeene, And yet ich am no Jewe. TRUTH. Within the sacred bible We find it written plain, 50 The latter days should troublesome And dangerous be, certaine ; 312 PLAIN TRUTH, AND That we should be self-lovers, And charity wax colde ; Then 'tis not true religion 55 That makes thee grief to holde. IGNORANCE. Chill tell thee my opinion plaine, And choul'd that well ye knewe, Ich care not for the bible booke ; Tis too big to be true. 60 Our blessed ladyes psalter Zhall for my money goe ; Zuch pretty prayers, as there bee,* The bible cannot zhowe. TRUTH. Nowe hast thou spoken trulye, 65 For in that book indeede No mention of our lady, Or Romish saint we read : For by the blessed Spirit That book indited was, 70 And not by simple persons, As was the foolish masse. IGNORANCE. Cham zure they were not voolishe That made the masse, che trowe ; * Probably alluding to the illuminated Psalters, Missals, &c. BLIND IGNORANCE. 313 Why, man, 'tis all in Latine, 75 And vools no Latine knowe. Were not our fathers wise men, And they did like it well ; Who very much rejoyced To heare the zacring bell ? 80 But many kinges and prophets, As I may say to thee, Have wisht the light that you have, And could it never see : For what art thou the better 85 A Latin song to heare, And understandest nothing, That they sing in the quiere? IGNORANCE. O hold thy peace, che pray thee, The noise was passing- trim 90 To heare the vriers zinging, As we did enter in : And then to zee the rood-loft Zo bravely zet with saints ; But now to zee them wandring 95 My heart with zorrow vaints. TRUTH. The Lord did give commandment, No image thou shouldst make, VOL. II. P 314 PLAIN TRUTH, AND Nor that unto idolatry You should your self betake : 100 The golden calf of Israel Moses did therefore spoile ; And Baal's priests and temple Were brought to utter foile. IGNORANCE. But our lady of Walsinghame 105 Was a pure and holy zaint, And many men in pilgrimage Did shew to her complaint. Yea with zweet Thomas Becket, And many other moe ; 110 The holy maid of Kent * likewise Did many wonders zhowe. TRUTH. Such saints are well agreeing To your profession sure; And to the men that made them 115 So precious and so pure ; The one for being a traytoure, Met an untimely death ; The other eke for treason Did end her hateful breath. 120 * By name Eliz. Barton, executed April 21, 1534. Stow, p. 570. BLIND IGNORANCE. 315 IGNORANCE. Yea, yea, it is no matter, Dispraise them how you wille : But zure they did much goodnesse ; Would they were with us stille ! We had our holy water, 125 And holy bread likewise, And many holy reliques We zaw before our eyes. TRUTH. And all this while they fed you With vain and empty showe, 130 Which never Christ commanded, As learned doctors knowe : Search then the holy scriptures, And thou shalt plainly see That headlong to damnation 1 35 They alway trained thee. IGNORANCE. If it be true, good vellowe, As thou dost zay to mee, Unto my heavenly fader Alone then will I flee : 140 Believing in the Gospel, And passion of his Zon, And with the zubtil papistes Ich have for ever done. p 2 316 THE WANDERING JEW. III. The story of the "Wandering Jew is of considerable antiquity : it had obtained full credit in this part of the world before the year 1228, as we learn from Matthew Paris. For in that year, it seems, there came an Arme- nian archbishop into England, to visit the shrines and reliques preserved in our churches ; who, being entertained at the monastery of St. Albans, was asked several questions relating to his country, &c. Among the rest a monk, who sat near him, inquired " if he had ever seen or heard of the famous person named Joseph, that was so much talked of; who was present at our Lord's crucifixion and con- versed with him, and who was still alive in confirmation of the Christian faith." The archbishop answered, That the fact was true. And afterwards one of his train, who was well known to a servant of the abbot's, interpreting his master's words, told them in French, " That his lord knew the person they spoke of very well : that he had dined at his table but a little while before he left the East : that he had been Pontius Pilate's porter, by name Carta- philus ; who, when they were dragging Jesus out of the door of the Judgment-hall, struck him with his fist on the back, saying, " Go faster, Jesus, go faster ; why dost thou linger ?" Upon which Jesus looked at him with a frown, and said, " I indeed am going, but thou shall tarry till I come." Soon after he was converted, and baptized by the name of Joseph. He lives for ever, but at the end of every hundred years falls into an incurable illness, and at length into a fit or ecstasy, out of which when he recovers, he re- turns to the same state of youth he was in when Jesus THE WANDERING JEW. 317 suffered, being then about thirty years of age. He remem- bers all the circumstances of the death and resurrection of Christ, the saints that arose with him, the composing of the apostles' creed, their preaching and dispersion ; and is himself a very grave and holy person." This is the sub- stance of Matthew Paris's account, who was himself a monk of St, Albans, and was living at the time when this Armenian archbishop made the above relation. Since his time, several impostors have appeared at inter- vals under the name and character of the Wandering Jew; whose several histories may be seen in Calmet's Dic- tionary of the Bible. See also the Turkish Spy, vol. ii. book iii. let. 1. The story that is copied in the following ballad is of one who appeared at Hamburgh in 1547, and pretended he had been a Jewish shoemaker at the time of Christ's crucifixion. The ballad, however, seems to be of later date. It is preserved in black-letter in the Pepys collection. WHEN as in faire Jerusalem Our Saviour Christ did live, And for the sins of all the worlde His own deare life did give ; The wicked Jewes with scoffes and scornes 5 Did dailye him molest, That never till he left his life, Our Saviour could not rest. When they had crown'd his head with thornes, And scourg'd him to disgrace, 10 318 THE WANDERING JEW. In scomfull sort they led him forthe Unto his dying place, Where thousand thousands in the streete Beheld him passe along, Yet not one gentle heart was there, 15 That pityed this his wrong. Both old and young reviled him, As in the streete he wente, And nought he found but churlish tauntes, By every ones consente : 20 His owne deare cross he bore himselfe, A burthen far too great, Which made him in the street to fainte, With blood and water sweat. Being weary thus, he sought for rest, 25 To ease his burthened soule, Upon a stone ; the which a wretch Did churlishly controule ; And sayd, Awaye, thou king of Jewes. Thou shalt not rest thee here ; 30 Pass on ; thy execution place Thou seest nowe draweth neare. And thereupon he thrust him thence ; At which our Saviour sayd, I sure will rest, but thou shalt walke, 35 And have no journey stayed. THE WANDERING JEW. 31 9 With that this cursed shoemaker, For offering Christ this wrong, Left wife and children, house and all, And went from thence along. 40 Where after he had seene the bloude Of Jesus Christ thus shed, And to the crosse his bodye nail'd, Awaye with speed he fled Without returning backe againe 45 Unto his dwelling place, And wandred up and downe the worlde, A runnagate most base. No resting could he finde at all, No ease, nor hearts content ; 50 No house, nor home, nor biding place : But wandring forth he went From towne to towne in foreigne landes, With grieved conscience still, Repenting for the heinous guilt 55 Of his fore-passed ill. Thus after some fewe ages past In wandring up and downe ; He much again desired to see Jerusalems renowne, 60 But finding it all quite destroyd He wandred thence with woe, 320 THE WANDERING JEW. Our Saviours wordes, which he had spoke, To verifie and showe. " I'll rest, sayd hee, but thou shalt walke," 65 So doth this wandring Jew From place to place, but cannot rest For seeing countries newe; Declaring still the power of him, Whereas he comes or goes, 70 And of all things done in the east, Since Christ his death, he showes. The world he hath still compast round And seene those nations strange, That hearing of the name of Christ, 75 Their idol gods doe change : To whom he hath told wondrous thinges Of time forepast, and gone, And to the princes of the worlde Declares his cause of moane : 80 Desiring still to be dissolv'd, And yeild his mortal breath ; But, if the Lord hath thus decreed, He shall not yet see death. For neither lookes he old nor young, 85 But as he did those times, When Christ did suffer on the crosse For mortall sinners crimes. THE WANDERING JEW. '231 He hath past through many a foreigne place, Arabia, Egypt Africa, 90 Grecia, Syria, and great Thrace, And throughout all Hungaria. Where Paul and Peter preached Christ, Those blest apostles deare ; There he hath told our Saviours wordes, 95 In countries far, and neare. And lately in Bohemia, With many a German towne ; And now in Flanders, as tis thought, He wandreth up and downe : 100 Where learned men with him conferre Of those his lingering dayes, And wonder much to heare him tell His journeyes, and his wayes. If people give this Jew an almes, 105 The most that he will take Is not above a groat a time : Which he, for Jesus' sake, Will kindlye give unto the poore, And thereof make no spare, 1 10 Affirming still that Jesus Christ Of him hath dailye care. He ne'er was scene to laugh nor smile, But weepe and make great moane ; p 3 322 THE WANDERING JEW. Lamenting still his miseries, 115 And dayes forepast and gone : If he heare any one blaspheme, Or take God's name in vaine, He tells them that they crucifie, Their Saviour Christe againe. 120 If you had seene his death, saith he, As these mine eyes have done, Ten thousand thousand times would yee His torments think upon: And suffer for his sake all paine 125 Of torments, and all woes. These are his wordes and eke his life Whereas he comes or goes. 323 IV. BY SIR WALTER RALEIGH, Is found in a very scarce miscellany, entitled " Davison's Poems, or a poeticall Rapsodie, divided into sixe books .... The 4th impression newly corrected and augmented, and put into a forme more pleasing to the reader. Lond. 1621, 12mo." This poem is reported to have been written by its celebrated author the night before his execution, Oct. 29, 1618. But this must be a mistake, for there were at least two editions of Davison's Poems before that time, one in 1608,* the other in 161 l.f So that unless this poem was an after-insertion in the fourth edit, it must have been written long before the death of Sir Walter : perhaps it was composed soon after his condemnation in 1603. See Oldys's Life of Sir Walter Raleigh, p. 173, fol. GOE, soule, the bodies guest, Upon a thankelesse arrant ; Feare not to touche the best, The truth shall be thy warrant : Goe, since I needs must dye, 5 And give the world the lye. Goe tell the court, it glowes And shines like rotten wood ; * Catalogue of T. Rawlinson, 1727. t Catalogue of Sion Coll. library. Thi is either lost or mislaid. 324 THE LYE. Goe tell the church it showes What's good, and doth no good : 10 If church and court reply, Then give them both the lye. Tell potentates they live, Acting by others actions ; Not lov'd unlesse they give, 15 Not strong but by their factions ; If potentates reply, Give potentates the lye. Tell men of high condition, That rule affairs of state, 20 Their purpose is ambition, Their practise onely hate ; And if they once reply, Then give them all the lye. Tell them that brave it most, 25 They beg for more by spending, Who in their greatest cost Seek nothing but commending ; And if they make reply, Spare not to give the lye. 30 Tell zeale, it lacks devotion ; Tell love, it is but lust ; Tell time, it is but motion ; Tell flesh, it is but dust ; THE LYE. 325 And wish them not reply, 35 For thou must give the lye. Tell age, it daily wasteth ; Tell honour, how it alters ; Tell beauty, how she blasteth ; Tell favour, how she falters ; 40 And as they shall reply, Give each of them the lye. Tell wit, how much it wrangles In tickle points of nicenesse : Tell wisedome, she entangles 45 Herselfe in over-wisenesse ; And if they do reply, Straight give them both the lye. Tell physicke of her boldnesse ; Tell skill, it is pretension ; 50 Tell charity of coldness ; Tell law, it is contention ; And as they yield reply, So give them still the lye. Tell fortune of her blindnesse ; 55 Tell nature of decay ; Tell friendship of unkindnesse ; Tell justice of delay : And if they dare reply, Then give them all the lye. b'O 326 THE LYE. Tell arts, they have no soundnesse, But vary by esteeming ; Tell schooles, they want prqfoundnesse, And stand too much on seeming : If arts and schooles reply, 65 Give arts and schooles the lye. Tell faith, it's fled the citie ; Tell how the countrey erreth ; Tell, manhood shakes off pitie ; Tell, vertue least preferreth : 70 And, if they doe reply, Spare not to give the lye. So, when thou hast, as I Commanded thee, done blabbing, Although to give the lye 75 Deserves no less than stabbing, Yet stab at thee who will, No stab the soule can kill. VERSES BY KING JAMES I. 327 V. Ftrscs fog Bfng Barnes $. In the first edition of this book were inserted, by way of specimen of his majesty's poetic talents, some Punning Verses made on the disputations at Sterling: but it having been suggested to the Editor, that the king only gave the quibbling commendations in prose, and that some obse- quious court-rhymer put them into metre ;* it was thought proper to exchange them for two sonnets of King James's own composition. James was a great versifier, and there- fore out of the multitude of his poems, we have here select- ed two, which (to show our impartiality) are written in his best and his worst manner. The first would not dishonour any writer of that time ; the second is a most complete example of the Bathos. A SONNET ADDRESSED BY KING JAMES TO HIS SON PRINCE HENRY. From King James's Works in folio : where is also print- ed another called his Majesty's OWN Sonnet; it would per- haps be too cruel to infer from thence that this was NOT his Majesty's OWN Sonnet GOD gives not kings the stile of Gods in vaine, For on his throne his scepter do they swey : And as their subjects ought them to obey, So kings should feare and serve their God againe. * See a folio entitled The Muses Welcome to King James. 328 VERSES BY KING JAMES I. If then ye would enjoy a happie reigne, Observe the statutes of our heavenly King ; And from his law make all your laws to spring Since his lieutenant here ye should remaine. Rewarde the just, be stedfast, true and plaine ; Represse the proud, maintayning aye the right ; Walke always so, as ever in HIS sight, Who guardes the godly, plaguing the prophane. And so ye shall in princely vertues shine, Resembling right your mightie King divine. A SONNET OCCASIONED BY THE BAD WEATHER WHICH HINDERED THE SPORTS AT NEW-MARKET IN JANUARY 1616. This is printed from Drummond of Hawthornden's Works, folio : where also may be seen some verses of Lord Stir- ling's upon this Sonnet, which concludes with the finest anti-climax I remember to have seen. How cruelly these catives do conspire? What loathsome love breeds such a baleful band Betwixt the cankred king of Greta land,* That melancholy old and angry sire, And him, who wont to quench debate and ire 5 Among the Romans, when his ports were clos'd ?f But now his double face is still dispos'd, With Saturn's help, to freeze us at the fire. * Saturn. f Janus. KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT. 329 The earth ore-covered with a sheet of snow, Refuses food to fowl, to bird, and beast : 10 The chilling cold lets every thing to grow, And surfeits cattle with a starving feast. Curs'd be that love and mought* continue short, Which kills all creatures, and doth spoil our sport. * i. e. may it. VI. 3foiw atrtr rtje &bbot of ODanterfmrp. The common popular ballad of King John and the Ab- bot seems to have been abridged and modernised about the time of James I. from one much older, entitled King John and the Bishop of Canterbury. The Editor's folio MS. contains a copy of this last, but in too corrupt a state to be reprinted; it however afforded many lines worth re- viving, which will be found inserted in the ensuing stanzas. The archness of the following questions and answers hath been much admired by our old ballad-makers ; for besides the two copies above mentioned, there is extant another ballad on the same subject, (but of no great anti- quity or merit,) entitled King Olfrey and the Abbot."} Lastly, about the time of the civil wars, when the cry ran t See the collection of Historical Ballads, 3 vols., 1727. Mr. Wise supposes Olfrey to be a corruption of Alfred, in his pamphlet concerning the WHITE HORSE in Berkshire, p. 15. 330 KING JOHN AND THE against the bishops, some Puritan worked up the same story into a very doleful ditty, to a solemn tune, concern- ing "King Henry and a Bishop;" with this stinging moral : " Unlearned men hard matters out can find, When learned bishops princes eyes do blind." The following is chiefly printed from an ancient black- letter copy, to " The tune of Derry down." AN ancient story He tell you anon Of a notable prince, that was called king John ; And he ruled England with maine and with might, For he did great wrong, and maintein ? d little right. And He tell you a story, a story so merrye, 5 Concerning the Abbot of Canterburye ; How for his house-keeping, and high renowne, They rode poste for him to fair London towne. An hundred men, the king did heare say, The abbot kept in his house every day ; 10 And fifty golde chaynes, without any doubt, In velvet coates waited the abbot about. How now, father abbot, I heare it of thee, Thou keepest a farre better house than mee, And for thy house-keeping and high renowne, 15 I feare thou work'st treason against my crown. ABBOT OF CANTERBURY. 331 My liege, quo' the abbot, I would it were knowne, I never spend nothing, but what is my owne ; And I trust, your grace will doe me no deere, For spending of my owne true-gotten geere. 20 Yes, yes, father abbot, thy fault it is highe, And now for the same thou needest must dye ; For except thou canst answer me questions three, Thy head shall be smitten from thy bodie. And first, quo' the king, when I'm in this stead, 25 With my crowne of golde so faire on my head, Among all my liege-men so noble of birthe, Thou must tell me to one penny what I am worthe. Secondlye, tell me, without any doubt, How soone I may ride the whole world about. 30 And at the third question thou must not shrink, But tell me here truly what I do think. 0, these are hard questions for my shallow witt, Nor I cannot answer your grace as yet : But if you will give me but three weekes space, 35 He do my endeavour to answer your grace. Now three weeks space to thee will I give, And that is the longest time thou hast to live ; For if thou dost not answer my questions three, Thy lands and thy livings are forfeit to mee. 40 332 KING JOHN AND THE Away rode the abbot all sad at that word, And he rode to Cambridge, and Oxenford ; But never a doctor there was so wise, That could with his learning an answer devise. Then home rode the abbot of comfort so cold, 45 And he mett his shepheard a going to fold : How now, my lord abbot, you are welcome home ; What newes do you bring us from good king John ? " Sad newes, sad newes, shepheard, I must give ; That I have but three days more to live : 50 For if I do not answer him questions three, My head will be smitten from my bodie. The first is to tell him there in that stead, With his crowne of golde so fair on his head, Among all his liege men so noble of birth, 55 To within one penny of what he is worth. The seconde, to tell him, without any doubt, How soone he may ride this whole world about : And at the third question I must not shrinke, But tell him there truly what he does thinke." 60 Now cheare up, sire abbot, did you never hear yet, That a fool he may learn a wise man witt ? Lend me horse, and serving men, and your apparel, And I'll ride to London to answere your quarrel. ABBOT OF CANTERBURY. 333 Nay frowne not, if it hath bin told unto mee, 65 I am like your lordship, as ever may bee : And if you will but lend me your gowne, There is none shall knowe us at fair London towne. Now horses, and serving-men thou shalt have, With sumptuous array most gallant and brave ; 70 With crozier, and miter, and rochet, and cope, Fit to appeare 'fore our fader the pope. Now welcome, sire abbot, the king he did say, Tis well thou'rt come back to keepe thy day ; For and if thou canst answer my questions three, 75 Thy life and thy living both saved shall bee. And first, when thou seest me here in this stead, With my crown of golde so fair on my head, Among all my liege-men so noble of birthe, Tell me to one penny what I am worth. 80 " For thirty pence our Saviour was sold Amonge the false Jewes, as I have bin told ; And twenty-nine is the worth of thee, For I thinke, thou art one penny worser than hee." The king he laughed, and swore by St. Bittel,* 85 I did not think I had been worth so littel ! * Meaning probably St. Botolph. 334 KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT. Now secondly tell me, without any doubt, How soone I may ride this whole world about. " You must rise with the sun, and ride with the same, Until the next morning he riseth againe ; 90 And then your grace need not make any doubt, But in twenty-four hours you'll ride it about." The king he laughed, and swore by St. Jone, I did not think, it could be gone so soone ! Now from the third question thou must not shrinke, But tell me here truly what I do thinke. 96 " Yea, that shall I do, and make your grace merry : You thinke I'm the abbot of Canterbury ; But I'm his poor shepheard, as plain you may see, That am come to beg pardon for him and for mee." 100 The king he laughed, and swore by the masse, lie make thee lord abbot this day in his place ! " Now naye, my liege, be not in such speede, For alacke I can neither write, ne reade." Four nobles a weeke, then I will give thee, 105 For this merry jest thou hast showne unto mee ; And tell the old abbot when thou comest home, Thou hast brought him a pardon from good king John. YOU MEANER BEAUTIES. 335 VII. ifoauties. This little sonnet was written by Sir Henry Wotton, Knight, on that amiable princess, Elizabeth daughter of James I. and wife of the Elector Palatine, who was chosen King of Bohemia, Sept. 5, 1619. The consequences of this fatal election are well known : Sir Henry Wotton, who in that and the following year was employed in several em- bassies in Germany on behalf of this unfortunate lady, seems to have had an uncommon attachment to her merit and fortunes, for he gave away a jewel worth a thousand pounds, that was presented to him by the emperor, " be- cause it came from an enemy to his royal mistress the Queen of Bohemia." See Biog. Britan. This song is printed from the Reliquiae Wottonianee, 1651, with some corrections from an old MS. copy. You meaner beauties of the night, That poorly satisfie our eies More by your number, than your light ; You common people of the skies, What are you when the Moon shall rise? 5 Ye violets that first appeare, By your pure purple mantles known Like the proud virgins of the yeare, As if the Spring were all your own ; What are you when the Rose is blown? 10 336 THE OLD AND YOUNG COURTIER. Ye curious chaunters of the wood, That warble forth dame Nature's layes, Thinking your passions understood By your weak accents : what's your praise, When Philomell her voyce shall raise ? 15 So when my mistris shal be scene In sweetnesse of her looks and minde ; By virtue first, then choyce a queen ; Tell me, if she was not design'd Th' eclypse and glory of her kind ? 20 VIII. antr footing Courtier. This excellent old song, the subject of which is a comparison between the manners of the old gentry, as still subsisting in the times of Elizabeth, and the modern refinements affected by their sons in the reigns of her successors, is given, with corrections, from an ancient black-letter copy in the Pepy's collection, compared with another printed among some miscellaneous " poems and songs" in a book entitled Le Prince d? Amour, 1660, 8vo. AN old song made by an aged old pate, Of an old worshipful gentleman, who had a greate estate, THE OLD AND YOUNG COURTIER. 337 That kept a brave old house at a bountiful rate, And an old porter to relieve the poor at his gate ; Like an old courtier of the queen's, And the queen's old courtier. With an old lady, whose anger one word asswages ; They every quarter paid their old servants their wages, And never knew what belong'd to coachmen, footmen, nor pages, But kept twenty old fellows with blue coats and badges ; Like an old courtier, &c. With an old study fill'.d full of learned old books, With an old reverend chaplain, you might know him by his looks. With an old buttery hatch worn quite off the hooks, And an old kitchen, that maintain'd half a dozen old cooks : Like an old courtier, &c. With an old hall, hung about with pikes, guns, and bows, W ith old swords, and bucklers, that had borne many shrewde blows, And an old frize coat, to cover his worship's trunk hose, And a cup of old sherry, to comfort his copper nose; Like an old courtier, &tc. VOL. II. Q \ 338 THE OLD AND YOUNG COURTIER. With a good old fashion, when Christmasse was come, To call in all his old neighbours with bagpipe and drum, With good chear enough to furnish every old room, And old liquor able to make a cat speak, and man dumb, Like an old courtier, &c. With an old falconer, huntsman, and a kennel of hounds, That never hawked, nor hunted, but in his own grounds, Who, like a wise man, kept himself within his own bounds, And when he dyed gave every child a thousand good pounds ; Like an old courtier, &c. But to his eldest son his house and land he assign'd, Charging him in his will to keep the old bountifull mind, To be good to his old tenants, and to his neighbours be kind : But in the ensuing ditty you shall hear how he was inclin'd ; Like a young courtier of the king's, And the king's young courtier. THE OLD AND YOUNG COURTIER. 339 Like a flourishing young gallant, newly come to his land, Who keeps a brace of painted madams at his command, And takes up a thousand pound upon his father's land, And gets drunk in a tavern, till he can neither go nor stand; Like a young courtier, &c. With a new-fangled lady, that is dainty, nice, and spare, Who never knew what belong'd to good house-keep- ing, or care, Who buyesgaudy-color'd fans to play with wanton air, And seven or eight different dressings of other womens hair ; Like a young courtier, &c. With a new-fashion' d hall, built where the old one stood, Hung round with new pictures, that do the poor no good, With a fine marble chimney, wherein burns neither coal nor wood, And a new smooth shovelboard, whereon no victuals ne'er stood ; Like a young courtier, &c. With a new study, stuft full of pamphlets, and plays, And a new chaplain, that swears faster than he prays, 340 THE OLD AND YOUNG COURTIER. With a new buttery hatch, that opens once in four or five days, And a new French cook, to devise fine kickshaws, and toys ; Like a young courtier, &c. With a new fashion, when Christmas is drawing on, On a new journey to London straight we all must begone, And leave none to keep house, but our new porter John, Who relieves the poor with a thump on the back with a stone; Like a young courtier, &c. With a new gentleman-usher, whose carriage is corn- pleat, With a new coachman, footmen, and pages to carry up the meat, With a waiting-gentlewoman, whose dressing is very neat, Who when her lady has din'd, lets the servants not eat; Like a young courtier, &cc. With new titles of honour bought with his father's old gold, For which sundry of his ancestors old manors are sold; SIR JOHN SUCKLING'S CAMPAIGNE. 341 And this is the course most of our new gallants hold, Which makes that good house-keeping is now grown so cold, Among the young courtiers of the king, Or the king's young courtiers. # * IX. &ir 3Jofw Duckling's Campaign*. When the Scottish covenanters rose up in arms, and ad- vanced to the English borders in 1639, many of the cour- tiers complimented the king by raising forces at their own expense. Among these, none were more distinguished than the gallant Sir John Suckling, who raised a troop of horse, so richly accoutred, that it cost him 12,000/. The like expensive equipment of other parts of the army, made the king remark, that " the Scots would fight stoutly, if it were but for the Englishmen's fine cloaths." [Lloyd's Memoirs.] When they came to action, the rugged Scots proved more than a match for the fine showy English : many of whom behaved remarkably ill, and among the rest this splendid troop of Sir John Suckling's. This humorous pasquil has been generally supposed to have been written by Sir John, as a banter upon himself. Some of his contemporaries, however, attributed it to Sir John Mennis, a wit of those times, among whose poems it is printed in a small poetical miscellany, entitled " Musarum deliciae : or the Muses recreation, containing several pieces of poetique wit, 2nd edition. By Sir J. M. [Sir John Men- 342 SIR JOHN SUCKLING'S CAMPAIGNS. nis] and Ja. S. [James Smith.] London, 1656, 12mo." [See Wood's Athena, ii. 397, 418.] In that copy is sub- joined an additional stanza, which probably was written by this Sir John Mennis, viz. " But now there is peace, he's return'd to increase His money, which lately he spent-a But his lost honour must lye still in the Just ; At Berwick away it went-a." SIR John he got him an ambling nag, To Scotland for to ride-a, With a hundred horse more, all his own he swore, To guard him on every side-a. No Errant-knight ever went to fight 5 With halfe so gay a bravada, Had you seen but his look, you'ld have sworn on a book, Hee'ld have conquer'd a whole armada. The ladies ran all to the windows to see So gallant and warlike a sight-a, 10 And as he pass'd by, they said with a sigh, Sir John, why will you go fight-a ? But he, like a cruel knight, spurr'd on ; His heart would not relent-a, For, till he came there, what had he to fear? 15 Or why should he repent-a ? SIR JOHN SUCKLING'S CAMPAIGNS. 343 The king (God bless him !) had singular hopes Of him and all his troop-a : The borderers they, as they met him on the way, For joy did hollow, and whoop-a. 20 None lik'd him so well, as his own colonell, Who took him for John de Wert-a ; But when there were shows of gunning and blows, My gallant was nothing so pert-a. For when the Scots army came within sight, 25 And all prepared to fight-a, He ran to his tent, they ask'd what he meant, He swore he must needs goe sh*te-a. The colonell sent for him back agen, To quarter him in the van-a, 30 But Sir John did swear, he would not come there, To be kill'd the very first man-a. To cure his fear, he was sent to the reare, Some ten miles back, and more-a ; Where Sir John did play at trip and away, 35 And ne'er saw the enemy more-a. Ver. 22. John de Wert was a German general of great repu- tation, and the terror of the French in the reign of Louis XIII. Hence his name became proverbial in France, where he was called De Vert. See Bajle's Dictionary. 344 TO ALTHEA FROM PRISON. X. from prison. This excellent sonnet, which possessed a high degree of fame among the old Cavaliers, was written by Colonel Richard Lovelace, during his confinement in the Gate- house, Westminster : to which he was committed by the House of Commons, in April 1642, for presenting a petition from the county of Kent, requesting them to restore the king to his rights, and to settle the government. See Wood's Athence, vol. ii. p. 228, and Lyson's Environs of London, vol. i. p. 109 ; where may be seen at large the affecting story of this elegant writer, who after having been distinguished for every gallant and polite accom- plishment, the pattern of his own sex, and the darling of the ladies, died in the lowest wretchedness, obscurity, and want, in 1658. This song is printed from a scarce volume of his poems, entitled Lucasta, 1649, 12mo., collated with a copy in the Editor's folio MS. WHEN love with unconfined wings Hovers within my gates, And my divine Althea brings To whisper at my grates ; When I lye tangled in her haire, And fetter'd with her eye, The birds that wanton in the aire, Know no such libertye. TO ALTHEA FROM PRISON. 345 When flowing cups run swiftly round With no allaying Thames, 10 Our carelesse heads with roses crown'd, Our hearts with loyal flames ; When thirsty griefe in wine we steepe, When healths and draughts goe free, Fishes, that tipple in the deepe, 15 Know no such libertie. When, linnet-like, confined I With shriller note shall sing The mercye, sweetness, majestye, And glories of my king ; When I shall voyce aloud how good He is, how great should be, Th' enlarged windes, that curie the flood, Know no such libertie. Stone walls doe not a prison make, 25 Nor iron barres a cage, Mindes, innocent, and quiet, take That for an hermitage : If I have freedom in my love, And in my soule am free, 30 Angels alone, that scare above, Enjoy such libertie. Ver. 10, With woe-allaying themes. MS. Thames is here used for water in general. Q 3 346 THE DOWNFALL OP CHARING -CROSS. XL UBofonfall of Charing-cross, as it stood before the civil wars, was one of those beautiful Gothic obelisks erected to conjugal affection by Edward I., who built such a one wherever the hearse of his beloved Eleanor rested in its way from Lincolnshire to Westminster. But neither its ornamental situation, the beauty of its structure, nor the noble design of its erection, (which did honour to humanity,) could pre- serve it from the merciless zeal of the times : for, in 1647, it was demolished by order of the House of Commons, as popish and superstitious. This occasioned the following not unhumorous sarcasm, which has been often printed among the popular sonnets of those times. The plot referred to in ver. 17, was that entered into by Mr. Waller the poet, and others, with a view to reduce the city and tower to the service of the king ; for which two of them, Nathaniel Tomkins and Richard Chaloner, suf- fered death, July 5, 1643. Vide Athen. Ox. ii. 24. UNDONE, undone the lawyers are, They wander about the towne, Nor can find the way to Westminster, Now Charing-cross is downe : At the end of the Strand, they make a stand, Swearing they are at a loss, And chaffing say, that's not the way, They must go by Charing-cross. THE DOWNFALL OF CHARING-CROSS. 347 The parliament to vote it down Conceived it very fitting, 10 For fear it should fall, and kill them all, In the house, as they were sitting. They were told, god-wot, it had a plot, Which made them so hard-hearted, To give command, it should not stand, 15 But be taken down and carted. Men talk of plots, this might have been worse For any thing I know, Than that Tomkins, and Chaloner, Were hang'd for long agoe. 20 Our parliament did that prevent, And wisely them defended, For plots they will discover still, Before they were intended. But neither man, woman, nor child, Will say, I'm confident, They ever heard it speak one word Against the parliament. An informer swore, it letters bore, Or else it had been freed : 30 I'll take, in troth, my Bible oath, It could neither write, nor read. The committee said, that verily To popery it was bent ; 348 THE DOWNFALL OF CHARING-CROSS. For ought I know, it might be so, 35 For to church it never went. What with excise, and such device, The kingdom doth begin To think you'll leave them ne'er a cross, Without doors nor within. 40 Methinks the common-council shou'd Of it have taken pity, 'Cause, good old cross, it always stood So firmly to the city. Since crosses you so much disdain 45 Faith, if I were as you, For fear the king should rule again, I'd pull down Tiburn too. *#* Whitelocke says, " May 3, 1643, Cheapside-cross and other crosses were voted down," &c. But this vote was not put in execution with regard to Charing-cross till four years after, as appears from Lilly's ' Observations on the Life, &c. of King Charles,' viz. " Charing-cross, we know, was pulled down 1647, in June, July, and August. Part of the stones were converted to pave before White- hall. I have seen knife-hafts made of some of the stones, which, being well polished, looked like marble." Ed. 1715, p. 18, 12mo. See an Account of the pulling down Cheapside-cross, in the Supplement to Gent. Mag. 1764. LOYALTY CONFINED. 349 XII. Hopaltg aU of Ifobelltous f^ This sarcastic exultation of triumphant loyalty is printed from an old black-letter copy in the Pepys collection, cor- rected by two others, one of which is preserved in " A choice collection of 120 loyal songs, &c." 1684, 12mo. To the tune of Old Simon the king. REBELLION hath broken up house, And hath left me old lumber to sell ; Come hither, and take your choice, T '11 promise to use you well : Will you buy the old speaker's chair ? 5 Which was warm and easie to sit in, And oft hath been clean 'd I declare, When as it was fouler than fitting. Says old Simon the king, &c. 358 THE SALE OF Will you buy any bacon-flitches, 10 The fattest, that ever were spent? They're the sides of the old committees, Fed up in the long parliament. Here's a pair of bellows, and tongs, And for a small matter I'll sell ye 'urn; 15 They are made of the presbyters lungs, To blow up the coals of rebellion. Says old Simon, &c. I had thought to have given them once To some black-smith for his forge ; 20 But now I have considered on 't, They are consecrate to the church : So I'll give them unto some quire, They will make the big organs roar, And the little pipes to squeeke higher, 25 Than ever they could before. Says old Simon, &c. Here's a couple of stools for sale, One 's square, and t'other is round ; Betwixt them both the tail 30 Of the RUMP fell down to the ground. Will you buy the states council-table, Which was made of the good wain Scot ? The frame was a tottering Babel To uphold the Independent plot. 35 Says old Simon, &c. REBELLIOUS HOUSHOLD-STUFF. 359 Here's the beesom of Reformation, Which should have made clean the floor, But it swept the wealth out of the nation, And left us dirt good store. 40 Will you buy the states spinning-wheel, Which spun for the roper 's trade ? But better it had stood still, For now it has spun a fair thread. Says old Simon, &c. 45 Here's a glyster-pipe well try'd, Which was made of a butcher's stump,* And has been safely apply'd, To cure the colds of the rump. Here's a lump of Pilgrims-Salve, 50 Which once was a justice of peace, Who Noll and the Devil did serve ; But now it is come to this. Says old Simon, &c. Here's a roll of the states tobacco, 55 If any good fellow will take it ; No Virginia had e'er such a smack-o, And I'll tell you how they did make it : Tis th' Engagement, and Covenant cookt * Alluding probably to Major-General Harrison, a butcher's son, who assisted Cromwell in turning out the long parliament, April 20, 1653. 360 THE SALE OF Up with the Abjuration oath ; 60 And many of them, that have took't, Complain it was foul in the mouth. Says old Simon, &c. Yet the ashes may happily serve To cure the scab of the nation, 65 Whene'er 't has an itch to swerve To Rebellion by innovation. A Lanthorn here is to be bought, The like was scarce ever gotten, For many plots it has found out 70 Before they ever were thought on. Says old Simon, &c. Will you buy the RUMP'S great saddle, With which it jocky'd the nation ? And here is the bitt, and the bridle, 75 And curb of Dissimulation : And here's the trunk-hose of the RUMP, And their fair dissembling cloak, And a Presbyterian jump, With an Independent smock. 80 Says old Simon, &c. Will you buy a Conscience oft turn'd, Which serv'd the high-court of justice, REBELLIOUS HOUSHOLD-STUFF. 361 And stretch'd until England it mourn'd : But Hell will buy that if the worst is. 85 Here's Joan Cromwell's kitching-stuff tub, Wherein is the fat of the Rumpers, With which old Noll's horns she did rub, When he was got drunk with false bumpers. Says old Simon, &c. 90 Here's the purse of the public faith ; Here's the model of the Sequestration, When the old wives upon their good troth, Lent thimbles to ruine the nation. Here's Dick Cromwell's Protectorship, 95 And here are Lambert's commissions, And here is Hugh Peters his scrip Cramm'd with the tumultuous Petitions. Says old Simon, &c. And here are old Noll's brewing vessels, 100 And here are his dray, and his slings ; Here are Hewson's awl, and his bristles ; With diverse other odd things : Ver. 86. This was a cant name given to Cromwell's wife by the Royalists, though her name was Elizabeth. She was taxed with exchanging the kitchen-stuff for the candles used in the Pro- tector's household, &c. See Gent. Mag. for March, 1788, p. 242. V. 94. See Grey's Hudibras, pt. i. cant. ii. v. 570, &c. V. 100, 102. Cromwell had in his younger years followed the brewing trade at Huntingdon. Col. Hewson is said to have originally a cobbler. 362 THE BAFFLED KNIGHT, And what is the price doth belong To all these matters before ye ? 105 I'll sell them all for an old song, And so I do end my story. Says old Simon, &c. XV. or Given (with some corrections) from a MS. copy, and collated with two printed ones in Roman character in the Pepys collection. THERE was a knight was drunk with wine, A riding along the way, sir ; And there he met with a lady fine, Among the cocks of hay, sir. Shall you and I, lady faire, 5 Among the grass lye down-a : And I will have a special care Of rumpling of your gowne-a. Upon the grass there is a dewe, Will spoil my damask gowne, sir : 10 My gowne and kirtle they are newe, And cost me many a crowne, sir. OR LADY'S POLICY. 363 I have a cloak of scarlet red, "Upon the ground I'll throwe it; Then, lady faire, come lay thy head ; 15 We'll play, and none shall knowe it. yonder stands my steed so free Among the cocks of hay, sir ; And if the pinner should chance to see, He'll take my steed away, sir. 20 Upon my finger I have a ring, Its made of finest gold-a, And, lady, it thy steed shall bring Out of the pinner's fold-a. go with me to my father's hall ; 25 Fair chambers there are three, sir : And you shall have the best of all, And I'll your chamberlaine bee, sir. He mounted himself on his steed so tall, And her on her dapple gray, sir : 30 And there they rode to her father's hall, Fast pricking along the way, sir. To her father's hall they arrived strait ; 'Twas moated round about-a ; She slipped herself within the gate, 35 And lockt the knight without-a. R 2 364 THE BAFFLED KNIGHT, Here is a silver penny to spend, And take it for your pain, sir ; And two of my father's men I'll send To wait on you back again, sir. 40 He from his scabbard drew his brand, And wiped it upon his sleeve-a : And cursed, he said, be every man, That will a maid believe-a ! She drew a bodkin from her haire, 45 And whip'd it upon her gown-a ; And curs'd be every maiden faire, That will with men lye down-a ! A herb there is, that lowly grows, And some do call it rue, sir : 50 The smallest dunghill cock that crows, Would make a capon of you, sir. A flower there is, that shineth bright, Some call it mary-gold-a : He that wold not when he might, 55 He shall not when he wold-a. The knight was riding another day, With cloak and hat and feather : He met again with that lady gay, Who was angling in the river. 60 OR LADY'S POLICY. 365 Now, lady faire, I've met with you, You shall no more escape me ; Remember, how not long agoe You falsely did intrap me. The lady blushed scarlet red, 65 And trembled at the stranger : How shall I guard my maidenhead From this approaching danger? He from his saddle down did light, In all his riche attyer ; 70 And cryed, As I am a noble knight, I do thy charms admyer. He took the lady by the hand, Who seemingly consented ; And would no more disputing stand : 75 She had a plot invented. Looke yonder, good sir knight, I pray, Methinks I now discover A riding upon his dapple gray, My former constant lover. 80 On tip-toe peering stood the knight, Fast by the rivers brink-a ; The lady pusht with all her might : Sir knight, now swim or sink-a. 366 . .THE BAFFLED KNIGHT, O'er head and ears he plunged in, *..- &5 The bottom faire he sounded ; Then rising up, he cried amain, Help, helpej or else I'm drownded ! Now, fare-you-well, sir knight, adieu ! You see what comes of fooling : 90 That is the fittest place for you ; Your courage wanted cooling. Ere many days, in her fathers park, Just at the close of eve-a, Again she met with her angry sparke ; 95 Which made this lady grieve-a. False lady, here thou'rt in my powre, And no one now can hear thee : And thou shalt sorely rue the hour, That e'er thou dar'dst to jeer me. * 100 I pray, sir knight, be not so warm With a young silly maid-a : I vow and swear I thought no harm, . 'Twas a gentle jest I playd-a. A gentle jest, in soothe, he cryd, 105 To tumble me in and leave me ! What if I had in the river dy'd ? That fetch will not deceive me. OR LADY'S POLICY. 367 ,*0nce more I'll pardon thee this day, Tho' injur'd out of measure ; 110 But then prepare without delay. To yield thee to my pleasure. Well then, if I must grant your suit, Yet think of your boots and spurs, sir : Let me pull off both spur and boot, 115 Or else you cannot stir, sir. He set him down upon the grass, And begg'd her kind assistance ; Now, smiling thought this lovely lass, I'll make you keep your distance. 120 Then pulling off his boots half-way ; Sir knight, now I 'm your betters : You shall not make of me your prey ; * Sit there like a knave in fetters. The knight when she had served soe, 125 He fretted, fum'd, and grumbled: For he could neither stand nor goe, But like a cripple tumbled. Farewell, sir knight, the clock strikes ten, Yet do not move nor stir, sir : 1 30 I'll send you my father's serving men, To pull off your boots and spurs, sir. 368 THE BAFFLED KNIGHT, This merry jest you must excuse, You are but a stingless nettle : You'd never have stood for boots or shoes, 135 Had you been a man of mettle. All night in grievous rage he lay, Rolling upon the plain-a ; Next morning a shepherd past that way, Who set him right again-a. 140 Then mounting upon his steed so tall, By hill and dale he swore-a : I '11 ride at once to her father's hall ; She shall escape no more-a. I '11 take her father by the beard, 1 45 I '11 challenge all her kindred ; Each dastard soul shall stand affeard ; My wrath shall no more be hindred. He rode unto her father's house, Which every side was moated : 1 50 The lady heard his furious vows, And all his vengeance noted. Thought shee, sir knight, to quench your rage, Once more I will endeavour : This water shall your fury 'swage, 155 Or else it shall burn for ever. OR LADY'S POLICY. 369 Then faining penitence and feare, She did invite a parley : Sir knight, if you '11 forgive me heare, Henceforth I'll love you dearly. 160 My father he is now from home, And I am all alone, sir : Therefore a-cross the water come ; And I am all your own, sir. False maid, thou canst no more deceive; 165 I scorn the treacherous bait-a : If thou would 'st have me thee believe, Now open me the gate-a. The bridge is drawn, the gate is barr 'd, My father he has the keys, sir ; 170 But I have for my love prepar 'd A shorter way and easier. Over the moate I've laid a plank Full seventeen feet in measure : Then step a-cross to the other bank, 175 And there we'll take our pleasure. These words she had no sooner spoke, But strait he came tripping over : The plank was saw 'd, it snapping broke ; And sous'd the unhappy lover. 180 R 3 370 WHY SO PALE? XVI. so Prom Sir John Suckling's Poems. This sprightly knight was born in 1613, and cut off by a fever about the 29th year of his age. See above, Song ix. of this Book. WHY so pale and wan, fond lover ? Prethee, why so pale ? Will, when looking well can 't move her, Looking ill prevail ? Prethee why so pale ? 5 Why so dull and mute, young sinner ? Prethee why so mute ? Will, when speaking well can 't win her, Saying nothing doe't? Prethee why so mute? 10 Quit, quit for shame ; this will not move, This cannot take her ; If of herself she will not love, Nothing can make her. The devil take her ! 15 OLt) TOM OF BEDLAM. 371 to om of MAD SONG THE FIRST. It is worth attention, that the English have more songs and ballads on the subject of madness, than any of their neighbours. Whether there be any truth in the insinua- tion, that we are more liable to this calamity than other nations, or that our native gloominess hath peculiarly re- commended subjects of this cast to our writers ; we certainly do not find the same in the printed collections of French, Italian songs, &c. Out of a much larger quantity, we have selected half a dozen MAD SONGS for these volumes. The three first are originals in their respective kinds : the merit of the three last is chiefly that of imitation. They were written at considerable intervals of time ; but we have here grouped them together, that the reader may the better examine their comparative merits. He may consider them as so many trials of skill in a very peculiar subject, as the con- test of so many rivals to shoot in the bow of Ulysses. The two first were probably written about the beginning of the last century; the third about the middle of it; the fourth and sixth towards the end; and the fifth within the eighteenth century. This is given from the Editor's folio MS. compared with two or three old printed copies. With regard to the au- thor of this old rhapsody, in Walton's Complete Angler, cap. 3, is a song in praise of angling, which the author says was made at his request " by Mr. William Basse, one that has made the choice songs of the Hunter in /m- 372 OLD TOM OP BEDLAM. Career, and of Tom of Bedlam, and many others of note," p. 84. See Sir John Hawkins's curious edition, 8vo. of that excellent old book. FORTH from my sad and darksome cell, Or from the deepe abysse of hell, Mad Tom is come into the world againe To see if he can cure his distempered braine. Feares and cares oppresse my soule ; 5 Harke, howe the angrye Fureys houle ! Pluto laughes, and Proserpine is gladd To see poore naked Tom of Bedlam madd. Through the world I wander night and day To seeke my straggling senses, 10 In an angrye moode I mett old Time, With his pentarchye of tenses : When me he spyed, Away he hyed, For time will stay for no man : 1 5 In vaine with cryes I rent the skyes, For pity is not common. Cold and comfortless I lye : Helpe, oh helpe ! or else I dye ! 20 OLD TOM OF BEDLAM. 373 Harke ! I heare Apollo's teame, The carman 'gins to whistle ; Chast Diana bends her bowe, The boare begins to bristle. Come, Vulcan, with tools and with tackles, 25 To knocke off my troublesome shackles ; Bid Charles make ready his waine To fetch me my senses againe. Last night I heard the dog-star bark ; Mars met Venus in the darke ; 30 Limping Vulcan het an iron barr, And furiouslye made at the god of war. Mars with his weapon laid about, But Vulcan's temples had the gout, For his broad horns did so hang in his light, 35 He could not see to aim his blowes aright : Mercurye, the nimble post of heaven, Stood still to see the quarrell ; Gorrel-beilyed Bacchus, gyant-like, Bestryd a, strong-beere barrell. 40 To mee he dranke, I did him thanke, But I could get no cyder ; 374 OLD TOM OP BEDLAM. He dranke whole butts Till he burst his gutts, 45 But mine were ne'er the wyder. Poore naked Tom is very drye : A little drinke for charitye ! Harke, I hear Acteon's home ! The huntsmen whoop and hallowe : 50 Ringwood, Royster, Bowman, Jowler, All the chase do followe. The man in the moone drinkes clarret, Eates powder'd beef, turnip, and carret, But a cup of old Malaga sack 55 Will fire the bushe at his backe. THE DISTRACTED PURITAN. 375 XVIII. 23tstractrtr puritan, MAD SONG THE SECOND, Was written about the beginning of the seventeenth cen- tury by the witty bishop Corbet, and is printed from the third edition of his Poems, 12mo. 1672, compared with a more ancient copy in the Editor's folio MS. AM I mad, O noble Festus, When zeal and godly knowledge Have put me in hope To deal with the pope, As well as the best in the college? 5 Boldly I preach, hate a cross, hate a surplice, Mitres, copes, and rochets ; Come hear me pray nine times a day, And fill your heads with crochets. In the house of pure Emanuel* 10 I had my education, Where my friends surmise I dazel'd my eyes With the sight of revelation. Boldly I preach, &c. * Emanuel College, Cambridge, was originally a seminary of Puritans. 376 THE DISTRACTED PURITAN. They bound me like a bedlam, 15 They lash'd my four poor quarters ; Whilst this I endure, Faith makes me sure To be one of Foxes martyrs. Boldly I preach, &c. These injuries I suffer 20 Through antichrist's perswasion : Take off this chain, Neither Rome nor Spain Can resist my strong invasion. Boldly I preach, &c. Of the beast's ten horns (God bless us !) 25 I have knock' d off three already ; If they let me alone I'll leave him none : But they say I am too heady. Boldly I preach, &c. When I sack'd the seven-hill'd city, 30 I met the great red dragon ; I kept him aloof With the armour of proof, Though here I have never a rag on. Boldly I preach, &c. With a fiery sword and target, 35 There fought I with this monster : THE DISTRACTED PURITAN. 377 But the sons of pride My zeal deride, And all my deeds misconster. Boldly I preach, &c. I un-hors'd the Whore of Babel, 40 With the lance of Inspiration ; I made her stink, And spill the drink In her cup of abomination. Boldly I preach, &c. I have seen two in a vision 45 With a flying book* between them. I have been in despair Five times in a year, And been cur'd by reading Greenham.f Boldly I preach, &c. I observ'd in Perkin's tables J 50 The black line of damnation ; * Alluding to some visionary exposition of Zech. ch. v. ver. 1 ; or, if the date of this song would permit, one might suppose it aimed at one Coppe, a strange enthusiast, whose life may be seen in Wood's Athen. vol. ii. p. 501. He was author of a book entitled The Fiery 'Flying Roll: and afterwards published a recantation, part of whose title is, The Fiery Flying Roll's Wings dipt, c3fc. t See Greenham's Works, fol. 1605, particularly the tract enti- tled A sweet Comfort for an Afflicted Conscience. t See Perkins's Works, fol. 1616, vol. i. p. 11 ; where is a large half sheet folded, containing " A survey, or table, declaring the order of the causes of salvation and damnation, &c." the pedigree of damnation being distinguished by a broad black zig-zag line. 378 THE DISTBACTED PURITAN. Those crooked veins So stuck in my brains, That I fear'd my reprobation. Boldly I preach, &c. In the holy tongue of Canaan 55 I plac'd my chiefest pleasure : Till I prick' d my foot With an Hebrew root, That I bled beyond all measure. Boldly I preach, &c. I appear'd before the archbishop,* 60 And all the high commission ; I gave him no grace, But told him to his face, That he favour'd superstition. Boldly I preach, hate a cross, hate a surplice, Mitres, copes, and rochets : 66 Come hear me pray nine times a day, And fill your heads with crotchets. * Abp. Laud. THE LUNATIC LOVER. 379 XIX. tybt Hunattc Hofor, MAD SONG THE THIRD, Is given from an old printed copy in the British Mu- seum, compared with another in the Pepys collection : both in black letter. GRIM king of the ghosts, make haste, And bring hither all your train ; See how the pale moon does waste, And just now is in the wane. Come, you night-hags, with all your charms, 5 And revelling witches away, And hug me close in your arms ; To you my respects I'll pay. I'll court you, and think you fair, Since love does distract my brain : 10 I'll go, I'll wed the night-mare, And kiss her, and kiss her again : But if she prove peevish and proud, Then, a pise on her love ! let her go : I'll seek me a winding shroud, 15 And down to the shades below. A lunacy sad I endure, Since reason departs away ; 380 THE LUNATIC LOVER. I call to those hags for a cure, As knowing not what I say. 20 The beauty, whom I do adore, Now slights me with scorn and disdain ; I never shall see her more : Ah ! how shall I bear my pain ! I ramble, and range about 25 To find out my charming saint ; While she at my grief does flout, And smiles at my loud complaint. Distraction I see is my doom, Of this I am now too sure ; 30 A rival is got in my room, While torments I do endure. Strange fancies do fill my head, While wandering in despair, I am to the desarts lead, 35 Expecting to find her there. Methinks in a spangled cloud I see her enthroned on high ; Then to her I crie aloud, And labour to reach the sky. 40 When thus I have raved awhile, And wearyed myself in vain, I lye on the barren soil, And bitterly do complain. THE LUNATIC LOVER. 381 Till slumber hath quieted me, 45 In sorrow I sigh and weep ; The clouds are my canopy To cover me while I sleep. I dream that my charming fair Is then in my rival's bed, 50 Whose tresses of golden hair Are on the fair pillow bespread. Then this doth my passion inflame, I start, and no longer can lie : Ah ! Sylvia, art thou not to blame 55 To ruin a lover ? I cry. Grim king of the ghosts, be true, And hurry me hence away, My languishing life to you A tribute I freely pay. 60 To the Elysian shades I post In hopes to be freed from care, Where many a bleeding ghost Is hovering in the air. 382 THE LADY DISTRACTED WITH LOVE. XX. Ualrg fcistracttfr fotrt) Hobt, MAD SONG THE FOURTH, Was originally sung in one of Tom D'Urfey's comedies of Don Quixote, acted in 1694 and 1696: and probably composed by himself. In the several stanzas, the author represents his pretty Mad- woman as 1, sullenly mad : 2, mirthfully mad : 3, melancholy mad : 4, fantastically mad : and 5, stark mad. Both this and No. xxii. are printed from D'Urfey's Pills to purge Melancholy, 1719, vol. i. FROM rosie bowers, where sleeps the god of love, Hither ye little wanton cupids fly ; Teach me in soft melodious strains to move With tender passion my heart's darling joy : Ah ! let the soul of musick tune my voice, 5 To win dear Strephon, who my soul enjoys. Or, if more influencing Is to be brisk and airy, With a step and a bound, With a frisk from the ground, 10 I'll trip like any fairy. As once on Ida dancing Were three celestial bodies : THE LADY DISTRACTED WITH LOVE. 383 With an air, and a face, And a shape, and a grace, 15 I'll charm, like beauty's goddess. Ah ! 'tis in vain ! 'tis all, 'tis all in vain ! Death and despair must end the fatal pain : Cold, cold despair, disguis'd like snow and rain, Falls on my breast ; bleak winds in tempests blow ; My veins all shiver, and my fingers glow; 21 My pulse beats a dead march for lost repose, And to a solid lump of ice my poor fond heart is froze. Or say, ye powers, my peace to crown, Shall I thaw myself, and drown 25 Among the foaming billows ? Increasing all with tears I shed, On beds of ooze, and crystal pillows, Lay down, lay down my love-sick head? No, no, I'll strait run mad, mad, mad ; 30 That soon my heart will warm ; When once the sense is fled, is fled, Love has no power to charm. Wild thro' the woods I'll fly, I'll fly, Robes, locks shall thus be tore ! 35 A thousand, thousand times I'll dye Ere thus, thus, in vain, ere thus in vain adore. 384 THE DISTRACTED LOVER. XXI. Btstractetr Hober, MAD SONG THE FIFTH, Was written by Henry Carey, a celebrated composer of music at the beginning of the eighteenth century, and author of several little theatrical Entertainments, which the reader may find enumerated in the Companion to the Play-house, &c. The sprightliness of this songster's fancy could not preserve him from a very melancholy catastro- phe, which was effected by his own hand. In his Poems, 4to. Lond. 1729, may be seen another Mad Song of this author, beginning thus : " Gods! I can never this endure, Death alone must be my cure," &c. I GO to the Elysian shade, Where sorrow ne'er shall wound me ; Where nothing shall my rest invade, But joy shall still surround me. I fly from Celia's cold disdain, 5 From her disdain I fly ; She is the cause of all my pain, For her alone I die. Her eyes are brighter than the mid-day sun, When he but half his radiant course has run, 10 THE DISTRACTED LOVER. 385 When his meridian glories gaily shine, And gild all nature with a warmth divine. See yonder river's flowing tide, Which now so full appears ; Those streams, that do so swiftly glide, 15 Are nothing but my tears. There I have wept till I could weep no more, And curst mine eyes, when they have wept their store : Then, like the clouds, that rob the azure main, I've drain' d the flood to weep it back again. 20 Pity my pains, Ye gentle swains ! Cover me with ice and snow, I scorch, I burn, I flame, I glow ! Furies, tear me, 25 Quickly bear me To the dismal shades below ! Where yelling, and howling, And grumbling, and growling, .Strike the ear with horrid woe. 30 Hissing snakes, Fiery lakes Would be a pleasure, and a cure : VOL. n. s 36 THE FRANTIC LADY. Not all the hells, Where Pluto dwells, 35 Can give such pain as I endure. To some peaceful plain convey me, On a mossey carpet lay me, Fan me with ambrosial breeze, Let me die, and so have ease ! 40 XXII. jpranttc MAD SONG THE SIXTH. This, like number xx., was originally sung in one of D'Urfey's Comedies of Don Quixote, (first acted about the year 1694,) and was probably composed by that popular songster, who died Feb. 26, 1723. This is printed in the " Hive, a Collection of Songs," 4 vols. 1721, 12mo., where may be found two or three other Mad Songs not admitted into these volumes. I BURN, my brain consumes to ashes ! Each eye-ball too like lightning flashes ! Within my breast there glows a solid fire, Which in a thousand ages can't expire ! THE FRANTIC LADY. 387 Blow, blow, the winds' great ruler ! 5 Bring the Po, and the Ganges hither, Tis sultry weather ; Pour them all on my soul, It will hiss like a coal, But be never the cooler. 10 'Twas pride hot as hell, That first made me rebell, From love's awful throne a curst angel I fell ; And mourn now my fate, Which myself did create : 1 5 Fool, fool, that consider'd not when I was well ! Adieu ! ye vain transporting joys ! Off ye vain fantastic toys ! That dress this face this body to allure ! Bring me daggers, poison, fire ! 20 Since scorn is turn'd into desire. All hell feels not the rage, which I, poor I, endure. s2 388 LILLI BURLERO. XXIII. Hfflt 23urUro. The following rhymes, slight and insignificant as they may now seem, had once a more powerful effect than either the Philippics of Demosthenes, or Cicero ; and con- tributed not a little towards the great revolution in 1688. Let us hear a contemporary writer. " A foolish ballad was made at that time, treating the Papists, and chiefly the Irish, in a very ridiculous man- ner, which had a burden said to be Irish words, ' Lero, lero, lilliburlero,' that made an impression on the [king's] army, that cannot be imagined by those that saw it not. The whole army, and at last the people, both in city and country, were singing it perpetually. And perhaps never had so slight a thing so great an effect." Burnet. It was written, or at least republished, on the Earl of Tyrconnel's going a second time to Ireland in October 1688. Perhaps it is unnecessary to mention, that General Richard Talbot, newly created Earl of Tyrconnel, had been nominated by King James II. to the lieutenancy of Ireland in 1686, on account of his being a furious papist, who had recommended himself to his bigoted master by his arbitrary treatment of the Protestants in the preceding year, when only lieutenant-general, and whose subsequent conduct fully justified his expectations and their fears. The violence of his administration may be seen in any of the histories of those times : particularly in Bishop King's " State of the Protestants in Ireland," 1691, 4to. Lilliburlero and Bullen-a-lah are said to have been the words of distinction used among the Irish Papists in their massacre of the Protestants in 1641. L1LLI BURLERO. 389 Ho ! broder Teague, dost hear .de decree ? Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. Dat we shall have a new deputie, Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. Lero lero, lilli burlero, lero lero, bullen a-la, 5 Lero lero, lilli burlero, lero lero, bullen a-la. Ho ! by shaint Tyburn, it is de Talbote : Lilli, &c. And he will cut all de English troate. Lilli, &c. 10 Dough by my shoul de English do praat, Lilli, &c. De law's on dare side, and Creish knows what. Lilli, &c. But if dispence do come from de pope, lo Lilli, &c. We'll hang Magna Charta and dem in a rope. Lilli, &c. For de good Talbot is made a lord, Lilli, &c. 20 And with brave lads is coming aboard : Lilli, &c. Ver. 7, Ho by my shoul. al. ed. 390 LILLl BURLERO. Who all in France have taken a sware, Lilli, &c. Dat dey will have no protestant heir. 25 Lilli, &c. Ara ! but why does he stay behind ? Lilli, &c. Ho ! by my shoul 'tis a protestant wind. 30 Lilli, &c. But see de Tyrconnel is now come ashore, Lilli, &c. And we shall have commissions gillore. Lilli, &c. And he dat will not go to de mass, 35 Lilli, &c. Shall be turn out, and look like an ass. Lilli, &c. Now, now de hereticks all go down, Lilli, &c. 40 By Chrish and shaint Patrick, de nation's our own. Lilli, &c. Dare was an old prophesy found in a bog, Lilli, &c. V. 43. What follows is net in some copies. LILLI BURLERO. 391 " Ireland shall be rul'd by an ass and a dog. " 45 Lilli, &c. And now dis prophesy is come to pass, Lilli, &c. For Talbot 's de dog, and JA**S is de ass. Lilli, &c. %* The foregoing song is attributed to Lord Wharton in a small pamphlet, entitled " A true relation of the several facts and circumstances of the intended riot and tumult on Queen Elizabeth's birth-day," &c. third edition, London, 1712, price 2d. See p. 5, viz. " A late Viceroy [of Ireland,] who has so often boasted himself upon his talent for mischief, invention, lying, and for making a certain Lilliburlero Song ; with which, if you will be- lieve himself, he sung a deluded Prince out of three Kingdoms." 392 THE BRAES OP YARROW. XXIV. i3raes of g^arrofo, IN IMITATION OF THE ANCIENT SCOTS MANNER, Was written by William Hamilton, of Bangour, Esq. who died March 25, 1754, aged 50. It is printed from an elegant edition of his Poems, published at Edinburgh, 1760, 12mo. This song was written in imitation of an old Scottish ballad on a similar subject, with the same burden to each stanza. A. BUSK ye, busk ye, my bonny bonny bride, Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome marrow, Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny bonny bride, And think nae mair on the Braes of Yarrow. B. Where gat ye that bonny bonny bride ? 5 Where gat ye that winsome marrow ? A. I gat her where I dare na weil be seen, Puing the birks on the Braes of Yarrow. Weep not, weep not, my bonny bonny bride, Weep not, weep not, my winsome marrow ; 10 Nor let thy heart lament to leive Puing the birks on the Braes of Yarrow. THE BRAES OP YARROW. 393 B. Why does she weep, thy bonny bonny bride ? Why does she weep thy winsome marrow ? And why dare ye nae mair weil be seen 15 Puing the birks on the Braes of Yarrow ? A. Lang maun she weep, lang maun she, maun she weep, Lang maun she weep with dule and sorrow ; And lang maun I nae mair weil be seen Puing the birks on the Braes of Yarrow. 20 For she has tint her luver, luver dear, Her luver dear, the cause of sorrow ; And I hae slain the comliest swain That eir pu'd birks on the Braes of Yarrow. Why rins thy stream, Yarrow, Yarrow, reid ? 25 Why on thy braes heard the voice of sorrow ? And why yon melancholious weids Hung on the bonny birks of Yarrow -J^3S . A 000 005 808 1 >' <.-\3EP ^?j>