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diff --git a/old/7532-8.txt b/old/7532-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..49940bd --- /dev/null +++ b/old/7532-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2298 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Book of Ballads, Volume 2, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Book of Ballads, Volume 2 + +Author: Various + +Editor: Beverly Nichols + +Posting Date: April 29, 2014 [EBook #7532] +Release Date: February, 2005 +First Posted: May 15, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BOOK OF BALLADS, VOLUME 2 *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger, Juliet Sutherland, Phil McLaury, +Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading +Team. Text version by Al Haines. + + + + + + + + + + + + +A BOOK OF OLD BALLADS + +Selected and with an Introduction + +by + +BEVERLEY NICHOLS + + +[Illustration: Title page art] + + + + + + CONTENTS + + THE HEIR OF LINNE + KING COPHETUA AND THE BEGGAR MAID + SIR ANDREW BARTON + MAY COLLIN + THE BLIND BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER OF BEDNALL GREEN + THOMAS THE RHYMER + YOUNG BEICHAN + BRAVE LORD WILLOUGHBEY + THE SPANISH LADY'S LOVE + THE FRIAR OF ORDERS GRAY + + + + LIST OF COLOUR PLATES + + KING COPHETUA AND THE BEGGAR MAID + MAY COLLIN + THOMAS THE RHYMER + YOUNG BEICHAN + + + + +THE HEIR OF LINNE + +[Illustration: The Heir of Linne headpiece] + + 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, + 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, + To card and dice from eve to morne, + It was, I ween, his hearts delighte. + + To ride, to runne, to rant, to roare, + To alwaye spend and never spare, + I wott, an' it were the king himselfe, + 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 sell his landes so broad, + His house, and landes, and all his rent. + + 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, + Let nought disturb thy merry cheere; + Iff thou wilt sell thy landes soe broad, + Good store of gold Ile give thee heere, + + My gold is gone, my money is spent; + My lande nowe take it unto thee: + 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; + But for every pounde that John agreed, + 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 Ile be the lord of Linne. + + 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. + My sonne, when I am gonne, sayd hee, + Then thou wilt spend thy land so broad, + And thou wilt spend thy gold so free: + + But sweare me nowe upon the roode, + That lonesome lodge thou'lt never spend; + 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, + And he that spares, ne'er mote he thee. + + 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. + + He had never a penny 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, + 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? + Ile 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, + And bade him sharpely wend his way. + + Now well-aday, sayd the heire of Linne, + Now well-aday, and woe is me; + For when I had my landes so broad, + On me they liv'd right merrilee. + + To beg my bread from door to door + I wis, it were a brenning shame: + To rob and steale it were a sinne: + To worke my limbs I cannot frame. + + Now Ile away to lonesome lodge, + For there my father bade me wend; + 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, + 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; + No shimmering sunn here ever shone; + No halesome breeze here ever blew. + + No chair, ne table he mote spye, + No cheerful hearth, ne welcome bed, + Nought save a rope with renning noose, + That dangling hung up o'er his head. + + And over it in broad letters, + These words were written so plain to see: + "Ah! gracelesse wretch, hast spent thine all, + And brought thyselfe to penurie? + + "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, + 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: + "This is a trusty friend indeed, + And is right welcome unto mee." + + Then round his necke the corde he drewe, + And sprung aloft with his bodie: + When lo! the ceiling burst in twaine, + And to the ground came tumbling hee. + + Astonyed lay the heire of Linne, + Ne knewe if he were live or dead: + At length he looked, and saw a bille, + And in it a key of gold so redd. + + He took the bill, and lookt it on, + Strait good comfort found he there: + It told him of a hole in the wall, + In which there stood three chests in-fere. + + Two were full of the beaten golde, + 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; + 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: + For here I will make mine avow, + This reade shall guide me to the end. + + Away then went with a merry cheare, + Away then went the heire of Linne; + I wis, he neither ceas'd ne blanne, + Till John o' the Scales house he did winne. + + 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, + 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: + For Christs curse on my head, he sayd, + If ever I trust thee one pennèe. + + Then bespake the heire of Linne, + To John o' the Scales wife then spake he: + Madame, some almes on me bestowe, + I pray for sweet Saint Charitèe. + + Away, away, thou thriftless loone, + I swear thou gettest no almes of mee; + For if we shold hang any losel heere, + The first we wold begin with thee. + + Then bespake a good fellòwe, + 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, + And sparedst not thy gold nor 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: + 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, + But I did lose by that bargàine. + + 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. + + I draw you to record, lords, he said. + With that he cast him a gods pennie: + Now by my fay, sayd the heire of Linne, + And here, good John, is thy monèy. + + And he pull'd forth three bagges of gold, + And layd them down upon the bord: + All woe begone was John o' the Scales, + Soe shent he cold say never a word. + + He told him forth the good red gold, + He told it forth with mickle dinne. + The gold is thine, the land is mine, + And now Ime againe the lord of Linne. + + Sayes, Have thou here, thou good fellòwe, + Forty pence thou didst lend me: + Now I am againe the lord of Linne, + 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. + + 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. + + Now fare thee well, sayd the heire of Linne; + Farewell now, John o' the Scales, said hee: + Christs curse light on me, if ever again + I bring my lands in jeopardy. + +[Illustration: The Heir of Linne tailpiece] + + + + +KING COPHETUA AND THE BEGGAR MAID + +[Illustration: The King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid headpiece] + + +[Illustration: The King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid] + + I Read that once in Affrica + A princely wight did raine, + Who had to name Cophetua, + As poets they did faine: + From natures lawes he did decline, + For sure he was not of my mind. + He cared not for women-kinde, + But did them all disdaine. + But, marke, what hapened on a day, + As he out of his window lay, + He saw a beggar all in gray, + The which did cause his paine. + + The blinded boy, that shootes so trim, + From heaven downe did hie; + He drew a dart and shot at him, + In place where he did lye: + Which soone did pierse him to the quicke. + And when he felt the arrow pricke, + Which in his tender heart did sticke, + He looketh as he would dye. + What sudden chance is this, quoth he, + That I to love must subject be, + Which never thereto would agree, + But still did it defie? + + Then from the window he did come, + And laid him on his bed, + A thousand heapes of care did runne + Within his troubled head: + For now he meanes to crave her love, + And now he seekes which way to proove + How he his fancie might remoove, + And not this beggar wed. + But Cupid had him so in snare, + That this poor begger must prepare + A salve to cure him of his care, + Or els he would be dead. + + And, as he musing thus did lye, + He thought for to devise + How he might have her companye, + That so did 'maze his eyes. + In thee, quoth he, doth rest my life; + For surely thou shalt be my wife, + Or else this hand with bloody knife + The Gods shall sure suffice. + Then from his bed he soon arose, + And to his pallace gate he goes; + Full little then this begger knowes + When she the king espies. + + The Gods preserve your majesty, + The beggers all gan cry: + Vouchsafe to give your charity + Our childrens food to buy. + The king to them his pursse did cast, + And they to part it made great haste; + This silly woman was the last + That after them did hye. + The king he cal'd her back againe, + And unto her he gave his chaine; + And said, With us you shal remaine + Till such time as we dye: + + For thou, quoth he, shalt be my wife, + And honoured for my queene; + With thee I meane to lead my life, + As shortly shall be seene: + Our wedding shall appointed be, + And every thing in its degree: + Come on, quoth he, and follow me, + Thou shalt go shift thee cleane. + What is thy name, faire maid? quoth he. + Penelophon, O king, quoth she; + With that she made a lowe courtsey; + A trim one as I weene. + + Thus hand in hand along they walke + Unto the king's pallace: + The king with curteous comly talke + This beggar doth imbrace: + The begger blusheth scarlet red, + And straight againe as pale as lead, + But not a word at all she said, + She was in such amaze. + At last she spake with trembling voyce, + And said, O king, I doe rejoyce + That you wil take me from your choyce, + And my degree's so base. + + And when the wedding day was come, + The king commanded strait + The noblemen both all and some + Upon the queene to wait. + And she behaved herself that day, + As if she had never walkt the way; + She had forgot her gown of gray, + Which she did weare of late. + The proverbe old is come to passe, + The priest, when he begins his masse, + Forgets that ever clerke he was; + He knowth not his estate. + + Here you may read, Cophetua, + Though long time fancie-fed, + Compelled by the blinded boy + The begger for to wed: + He that did lovers lookes disdaine, + To do the same was glad and faine, + Or else he would himselfe have slaine, + In storie, as we read. + Disdaine no whit, O lady deere, + But pitty now thy servant heere, + Least that it hap to thee this yeare, + As to that king it did. + + And thus they led a quiet life + Duringe their princely raigne; + And in a tombe were buried both, + As writers sheweth plaine. + The lords they tooke it grievously, + The ladies tooke it heavily, + The commons cryed pitiously, + Their death to them was paine, + Their fame did sound so passingly, + That it did pierce the starry sky, + And throughout all the world did flye + To every princes realme. + + +[Illustration: The King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid tailpiece] + + + +SIR ANDREW BARTON + + +[Illustration: Sir Andrew Barton headpiece] + + + + 'When Flora with her fragrant flowers + Bedeckt the earth so trim and gaye, + And Neptune with his daintye showers + Came to present the monthe of Maye;' + King Henrye rode to take the ayre, + Over the river of Thames past hee; + When eighty merchants of London came, + And downe they knelt upon their knee. + + "O yee are welcome, rich merchants; + Good saylors, welcome unto mee." + They swore by the rood, they were saylors good, + But rich merchànts they cold not bee: + "To France nor Flanders dare we pass: + Nor Bourdeaux voyage dare we fare; + And all for a rover that lyes on the seas, + Who robbs us of our merchant ware." + + King Henrye frowned, and turned him rounde, + And swore by the Lord, that was mickle of might, + "I thought he had not beene in the world, + Durst have wrought England such unright." + The merchants sighed, and said, alas! + And thus they did their answer frame, + He is a proud Scott, that robbs on the seas, + And Sir Andrewe Barton is his name. + + The king lookt over his left shoulder, + And an angrye look then looked hee: + "Have I never a lorde in all my realme, + Will feitch yond tray tor unto me?" + Yea, that dare I; Lord Howard sayes; + Yea, that dare I with heart and hand; + If it please your grace to give me leave, + Myselfe wil be the only man. + + Thou art but yong; the kyng replyed: + Yond Scott hath numbered manye a yeare. + "Trust me, my liege, lie make him quail, + Or before my prince I will never appeare." + Then bowemen and gunners thou shalt have, + And chuse them over my realme so free; + Besides good mariners, and shipp-boyes, + To guide the great shipp on the sea. + + The first man, that Lord Howard chose, + Was the ablest gunner in all the realm, + Thoughe he was three score yeeres and ten; + Good Peter Simon was his name. + Peter, sais hee, I must to the sea, + To bring home a traytor live or dead: + Before all others I have chosen thee; + Of a hundred gunners to be the head. + + If you, my lord, have chosen mee + Of a hundred gunners to be the head, + Then hang me up on your maine-mast tree, + If I misse my marke one shilling bread. + My lord then chose a boweman rare, + "Whose active hands had gained fame." + In Yorkshire was this gentleman borne, + And William Horseley was his name. + + Horseley, said he, I must with speede + Go seeke a traytor on the sea, + And now of a hundred bowemen brave + To be the head I have chosen thee. + If you, quoth hee, have chosen mee + Of a hundred bowemen to be the head + On your main-mast He hanged bee, + If I miss twelvescore one penny bread. + + With pikes and gunnes, and bowemen bold, + This noble Howard is gone to the sea; + With a valyant heart and a pleasant cheare, + Out at Thames mouth sayled he. + And days he scant had sayled three, + Upon the 'voyage,' he tooke in hand, + But there he mett with a noble shipp, + And stoutely made itt stay and stand. + + Thou must tell me, Lord Howard said, + Now who thou art, and what's thy name; + And shewe me where they dwelling is: + And whither bound, and whence thou came. + My name is Henry Hunt, quoth hee + With a heavye heart, and a carefull mind; + I and my shipp doe both belong + To the Newcastle, that stands upon Tyne. + + Hast thou not heard, nowe, Henrye Hunt, + As thou hast sayled by daye and by night, + Of a Scottish rover on the seas; + Men call him Sir Andrew Barton, knight! + Then ever he sighed, and said alas! + With a grieved mind, and well away! + But over-well I knowe that wight, + I was his prisoner yesterday. + + As I was sayling uppon the sea, + A Burdeaux voyage for to fare; + To his hach-borde he clasped me, + And robd me of all my merchant ware: + And mickle debts, God wot, I owe, + And every man will have his owne; + And I am nowe to London bounde, + Of our gracious king to beg a boone. + + That shall not need, Lord Howard sais; + Lett me but once that robber see, + For every penny tane thee froe + It shall be doubled shillings three. + Nowe God forefend, the merchant said, + That you should seek soe far amisse! + God keepe you out of that traitors hands! + Full litle ye wott what a man hee is. + + Hee is brasse within, and steele without, + With beames on his topcastle stronge; + And eighteen pieces of ordinance + He carries on each side along: + And he hath a pinnace deerlye dight, + St. Andrewes crosse that is his guide; + His pinnace beareth ninescore men, + And fifteen canons on each side. + + Were ye twentye shippes, and he but one; + I sweare by kirke, and bower, and hall; + He wold overcome them everye one, + If once his beames they doe downe fall. + This is cold comfort, sais my lord, + To wellcome a stranger thus to the sea: + Yet He bring him and his ship to shore, + Or to Scottland hee shall carrye mee. + + Then a noble gunner you must have, + And he must aim well with his ee, + And sinke his pinnace into the sea, + Or else hee never orecome will bee: + And if you chance his shipp to borde, + This counsel I must give withall, + Let no man to his topcastle goe + To strive to let his beams downe fall. + + And seven pieces of ordinance, + I pray your honour lend to mee, + On each side of my shipp along, + And I will lead you on the sea. + A glasse He sett, that may be seene + Whether you sail by day or night; + And to-morrowe, I sweare, by nine of the clocke + You shall meet with Sir Andrewe Barton knight. + + + + THE SECOND PART + + The merchant sett my lorde a glasse + Soe well apparent in his sight, + And on the morrowe, by nine of the clocke, + He shewed him Sir Andrewe Barton knight. + His hachebord it was 'gilt' with gold, + Soe deerlye dight it dazzled the ee: + Nowe by my faith, Lord Howarde sais, + This is a gallant sight to see. + + Take in your ancyents, standards eke, + So close that no man may them see; + And put me forth a white willowe wand, + As merchants use to sayle the sea. + But they stirred neither top, nor mast; + Stoutly they past Sir Andrew by. + What English churles are yonder, he sayd, + That can soe little curtesye? + + Now by the roode, three yeares and more + I have beene admirall over the sea; + And never an English nor Portingall + Without my leave can passe this way. + Then called he forth his stout pinnace; + "Fetch backe yond pedlars nowe to mee: + I sweare by the masse, yon English churles + Shall all hang att my maine-mast tree." + + With that the pinnace itt shot off, + Full well Lord Howard might it ken; + For itt stroke down my lord's fore mast, + And killed fourteen of his men. + Come hither, Simon, sayes my lord, + Looke that thy word be true, thou said; + For at my maine-mast thou shalt hang, + If thou misse thy marke one shilling bread. + + Simon was old, but his heart itt was bold; + His ordinance he laid right lowe; + He put in chaine full nine yardes long, + With other great shott lesse, and moe; + And he lette goe his great gunnes shott: + Soe well he settled itt with his ee, + The first sight that Sir Andrew sawe, + He see his pinnace sunke in the sea. + + And when he saw his pinnace sunke, + Lord, how his heart with rage did swell! + "Nowe cutt my ropes, itt is time to be gon; + Ile fetch yond pedlars backe mysell." + When my lord sawe Sir Andrewe loose, + Within his heart he was full faine: + "Now spread your ancyents, strike up your drummes, + Sound all your trumpetts out amaine." + + Fight on, my men, Sir Andrewe sais, + Weale howsoever this geere will sway; + Itt is my Lord Admirall of England, + Is come to seeke mee on the sea. + Simon had a sonne, who shott right well, + That did Sir Andrewe mickle scare; + In att his decke he gave a shott, + Killed threescore of his men of warre. + + Then Henrye Hunt with rigour hott + Came bravely on the other side, + Soone he drove downe his fore-mast tree, + And killed fourscore men beside. + Nowe, out alas! Sir Andrewe cryed, + What may a man now thinke, or say? + Yonder merchant theefe, that pierceth mee, + He was my prisoner yesterday. + + Come hither to me, thou Gordon good, + That aye wast readye att my call: + I will give thee three hundred markes, + If thou wilt let my beames downe fall. + Lord Howard hee then calld in haste, + "Horseley see thou be true in stead; + For thou shalt at the maine-mast hang, + If thou misse twelvescore one penny bread." + + Then Gordon swarved the maine-mast tree, + He swarved it with might and maine; + But Horseley with a bearing arrowe, + Stroke the Gordon through the braine; + And he fell unto the haches again, + And sore his deadlye wounde did bleed: + Then word went through Sir Andrews men, + How that the Gordon hee was dead. + + Come hither to mee, James Hambilton, + Thou art my only sisters sonne, + If thou wilt let my beames downe fall + Six hundred nobles thou hast wonne. + With that he swarved the maine-mast tree, + He swarved it with nimble art; + But Horseley with a broad arròwe + Pierced the Hambilton thorough the heart: + + And downe he fell upon the deck, + That with his blood did streame amaine: + Then every Scott cryed, Well-away! + Alas! a comelye youth is slaine. + All woe begone was Sir Andrew then, + With griefe and rage his heart did swell: + "Go fetch me forth my armour of proofe, + For I will to the topcastle mysell." + + "Goe fetch me forth my armour of proofe; + That gilded is with gold soe cleare: + God be with my brother John of Barton! + Against the Portingalls hee it ware; + And when he had on this armour of proofe, + He was a gallant sight to see: + Ah! nere didst thou meet with living wight, + My deere brother, could cope with thee." + + Come hither Horseley, sayes my lord, + And looke your shaft that itt goe right, + Shoot a good shoote in time of need, + And for it thou shalt be made a knight. + Ile shoot my best, quoth Horseley then, + Your honour shall see, with might and maine; + But if I were hanged at your maine-mast, + I have now left but arrowes twaine. + + Sir Andrew he did swarve the tree, + With right good will he swarved then: + Upon his breast did Horseley hitt, + But the arrow bounded back agen. + Then Horseley spyed a privye place + With a perfect eye in a secrette part; + Under the spole of his right arme + He smote Sir Andrew to the heart. + + "Fight on, my men," Sir Andrew sayes, + "A little Ime hurt, but yett not slaine; + He but lye downe and bleede a while, + And then He rise and fight againe. + Fight on, my men," Sir Andrew sayes, + "And never flinch before the foe; + And stand fast by St. Andrewes crosse + Until you heare my whistle blowe." + + They never heard his whistle blow-- + Which made their hearts waxe sore adread: + Then Horseley sayd, Aboard, my lord, + For well I wott Sir Andrew's dead. + They boarded then his noble shipp, + They boarded it with might and maine; + Eighteen score Scots alive they found, + The rest were either maimed or slaine. + + Lord Howard tooke a sword in hand, + And off he smote Sir Andrewes head, + "I must have left England many a daye, + If thou wert alive as thou art dead." + He caused his body to be cast + Over the hatchboard into the sea, + And about his middle three hundred crownes: + "Wherever thou land this will bury thee." + + Thus from the warres Lord Howard came, + And backe he sayled ore the maine, + With mickle joy and triumphing + Into Thames mouth he came againe. + Lord Howard then a letter wrote, + And sealed it with scale and ring; + "Such a noble prize have I brought to your grace, + As never did subject to a king: + + "Sir Andrewes shipp I bring with mee; + A braver shipp was never none: + Nowe hath your grace two shipps of warr, + Before in England was but one." + King Henryes grace with royall cheere + Welcomed the noble Howard home, + And where, said he, is this rover stout, + That I myselfe may give the doome? + + "The rover, he is safe, my liege, + Full many a fadom in the sea; + If he were alive as he is dead, + I must have left England many a day: + And your grace may thank four men i' the ship + For the victory wee have wonne, + These are William Horseley, Henry Hunt, + And Peter Simon, and his sonne." + + To Henry Hunt, the king then sayd, + In lieu of what was from thee tane, + A noble a day now thou shalt have, + Sir Andrewes jewels and his chayne. + And Horseley thou shalt be a knight, + And lands and livings shalt have store; + Howard shall be erle Surrye hight, + As Howards erst have beene before. + + Nowe, Peter Simon, thou art old, + I will maintaine thee and thy sonne: + And the men shall have five hundred markes + For the good service they have done. + Then in came the queene with ladyes fair + To see Sir Andrewe Barton knight: + They weend that hee were brought on shore, + And thought to have seen a gallant sight. + + But when they see his deadlye face, + And eyes soe hollow in his head, + I wold give, quoth the king, a thousand markes, + This man were alive as hee is dead: + Yett for the manfull part hee playd, + Which fought soe well with heart and hand, + His men shall have twelvepence a day, + Till they come to my brother kings high land. + + + + +MAY COLLIN + +[Illustration: May Collin headpiece] + +[Illustration: May Collin] + + May Collin ... + ... was her father's heir, + And she fell in love with a false priest, + And she rued it ever mair. + + He followd her butt, he followd her benn, + He followd her through the hall, + Till she had neither tongue nor teeth + Nor lips to say him naw. + + "We'll take the steed out where he is, + The gold where eer it be, + And we'll away to some unco land, + And married we shall be." + + They had not riden a mile, a mile, + A mile but barely three, + Till they came to a rank river, + Was raging like the sea. + + "Light off, light off now, May Collin, + It's here that you must die; + Here I have drownd seven king's daughters, + The eight now you must be. + + "Cast off, cast off now, May Collin, + Your gown that's of the green; + For it's oer good and oer costly + To rot in the sea-stream. + + "Cast off, cast off now, May Collin, + Your coat that's of the black; + For it's oer good and oer costly + To rot in the sea-wreck. + + "Cast off, cast off now, May Collin, + Your stays that are well laced; + For thei'r oer good and costly + In the sea's ground to waste. + + "Cast [off, cast off now, May Collin,] + Your sark that's of the holland; + For [it's oer good and oer costly] + To rot in the sea-bottom." + + "Turn you about now, falsh Mess John, + To the green leaf of the tree; + It does not fit a mansworn man + A naked woman to see." + + He turnd him quickly round about, + To the green leaf of the tree; + She took him hastly in her arms + And flung him in the sea. + + "Now lye you there, you falsh Mess John, + My mallasin go with thee! + You thought to drown me naked and bare, + But take your cloaths with thee, + And if there be seven king's daughters there + Bear you them company" + + She lap on her milk steed + And fast she bent the way, + And she was at her father's yate + Three long hours or day. + + Up and speaks the wylie parrot, + So wylily and slee: + "Where is the man now, May Collin, + That gaed away wie thee?" + + "Hold your tongue, my wylie parrot, + And tell no tales of me, + And where I gave a pickle befor + It's now I'll give you three." + +[Illustration: May Collin tailpiece] + + + + +THE BLIND BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER OF BEDNALL GREEN + +[Illustration: The Blind Beggar's Daughter of Bednall Green headpiece] + + + PART THE FIRST + + Itt was a blind beggar, had long lost his sight, + He had a faire daughter of bewty most bright; + And many a gallant brave suiter had shee, + For none was soe comelye as pretty Bessee. + + And though shee was of favour most faire, + Yett seeing shee was but a poor beggars heyre, + Of ancyent housekeepers despised was shee, + Whose sonnes came as suitors to prettye Bessee. + + Wherefore in great sorrow faire Bessy did say, + Good father, and mother, let me goe away + To seeke out my fortune, whatever itt bee. + This suite then they granted to prettye Bessee. + + Then Bessy, that was of bewtye soe bright, + All cladd in gray russett, and late in the night + From father and mother alone parted shee; + Who sighed and sobbed for prettye Bessee. + + Shee went till shee came to Stratford-le-Bow; + Then knew shee not whither, nor which way to goe: + With teares shee lamented her hard destinie, + So sadd and soe heavy was pretty Bessee. + + Shee kept on her journey untill it was day, + And went unto Rumford along the hye way; + Where at the Queenes armes entertained was shee; + Soe faire and wel favoured was pretty Bessee. + + Shee had not beene there a month to an end, + But master and mistress and all was her friend: + And every brave gallant, that once did her see, + Was straight-way enamoured of pretty Bessee. + + Great gifts they did send her of silver and gold, + And in their songs daylye her love was extold; + Her beawtye was blazed in every degree; + Soe faire and soe comelye was pretty Bessee. + + The young men of Rumford in her had their joy; + Shee shewed herself curteous, and modestlye coye; + And at her commandment still wold they bee; + Soe fayre and soe comlye was pretty Bessee. + + Foure suitors att once unto her did goe; + They craved her favor, but still she sayd noe; + I wold not wish gentles to marry with mee. + Yett ever they honored prettye Bessee. + + The first of them was a gallant young knight, + And he came unto her disguisde in the night; + The second a gentleman of good degree, + Who wooed and sued for prettye Bessee. + + A merchant of London, whose wealth was not small, + He was the third suiter, and proper withall: + Her masters own sonne the fourth man must bee, + Who swore he would dye for pretty Bessee. + + And, if thou wilt marry with mee, quoth the knight, + Ile make thee a ladye with joy and delight; + My hart's so inthralled by thy bewtle, + That soone I shall dye for prettye Bessee. + + The gentleman sayd, Come, marry with mee, + As fine as a ladye my Bessy shal bee: + My life is distressed: O heare me, quoth hee; + And grant me thy love, my prettye Bessee. + + Let me bee thy husband, the merchant cold say, + Thou shalt live in London both gallant and gay; + My shippes shall bring home rych jewells for thee, + And I will for ever love pretty Bessee. + + Then Bessy shee sighed, and thus she did say, + My father and mother I meane to obey; + First gett their good will, and be faithfull to mee, + And you shall enjoye your prettye Bessee. + + To every one this answer shee made, + Wherfore unto her they joyfullye sayd, + This thing to fulfill wee all doe agree; + But where dwells thy father, my prettye Bessee? + + My father, shee said, is soone to be seene: + The seely blind beggar of Bednall-greene, + That daylye sits begging for charitie, + He is the good father of pretty Bessee. + + His markes and his tokens are knowen very well; + He alwayes is led with a dogg and a bell: + A seely olde man, God knoweth, is hee, + Yett hee is the father of pretty Bessee. + + Nay then, quoth the merchant, thou art not for mee: + Nor, quoth the innholder, my wiffe thou shalt bee: + I lothe, sayd the gentle, a beggars degree, + And therefore, adewe, my pretty Bessee! + + Why then, quoth the knight, hap better or worse, + I waighe not true love by the waight of my pursse, + And bewtye is bewtye in every degree; + Then welcome unto me, my prettye Bessee. + + With thee to thy father forthwith I will goe. + Nay soft, quoth his kinsmen, it must not be soe; + A poor beggars daughter noe ladye shal bee, + Then take thy adew of pretty Bessee. + + But soone after this, by breake of the day, + The knight had from Rumford stole Bessy away. + The younge men of Rumford, as thicke might bee, + Rode after to feitch againe pretty Bessee. + + As swifte as the winde to ryde they were scene, + Untill they came neare unto Bednall-greene; + And as the knight lighted most courteouslèe, + They all fought against him for pretty Bessee. + + But rescew came speedilye over the plaine, + Or else the young knight for his love had been slaine. + This fray being ended, then straitway he see + His kinsmen come rayling at pretty Bessee. + + Then spake the blind beggar, Although I bee poore, + Yett rayle not against my child at my own doore: + Though shee be not decked in velvett and pearle, + Yett will I dropp angells with you for my girle. + + And then, if my gold may better her birthe, + And equall the gold that you lay on the earth, + Then neyther rayle nor grudge you to see + The blind beggars daughter a lady to bee. + + But first you shall promise, and have it well knowne, + The gold that you drop shall all be your owne. + With that they replyed, Contented bee wee. + Then here's, quoth the beggar, for pretty Bessee. + + With that an angell he cast on the ground, + And dropped in angels full three thousand pound; + And oftentime itt was proved most plaine, + For the gentlemens one the beggar droppt twayne: + + Soe that the place, wherin they did sitt, + With gold it was covered every whitt. + The gentlemen then having dropt all their store, + Sayd, Now, beggar, hold, for wee have noe more. + + Thou hast fulfilled thy promise arright. + Then marry, quoth he, my girle to this knight; + And heere, added hee, I will now throwe you downe + A hundred pounds more to buy her a gowne. + + The gentlemen all, that this treasure had seene, + Admired the beggar of Bednall-greene: + And all those, that were her suitors before, + Their fleshe for very anger they tore. + + Thus was faire Besse matched to the knight, + And then made a ladye in others despite: + A fairer ladye there never was seene, + Than the blind beggars daughter of Bednall-greene. + + But of their sumptuous marriage and feast, + What brave lords and knights thither were prest, + The SECOND FITT shall set forth to your sight + With marveilous pleasure, and wished delight. + + + PART THE SECOND + + Off a blind beggars daughter most bright, + That late was betrothed unto a younge knight; + All the discourse therof you did see; + But now comes the wedding of pretty Bessee. + + Within a gorgeous palace most brave, + Adorned with all the cost they cold have, + This wedding was kept most sumptuouslèe, + And all for the credit of pretty Bessee. + + All kind of dainties, and delicates sweete + Were bought for the banquet, as it was most meete; + Partridge, and plover, and venison most free, + Against the brave wedding of pretty Bessee. + + This marriage through England was spread by report, + Soe that a great number therto did resort + Of nobles and gentles in every degree; + And all for the fame of prettye Bessee. + + To church then went this gallant younge knight; + His bride followed after, an angell most bright, + With troopes of ladyes, the like nere was scene + As went with sweete Bessy of Bednall-greene. + + This marryage being solempnized then, + With musicke performed by the skilfullest men, + The nobles and gentles sate downe at that tyde, + Each one admiring the beautiful bryde. + + Now, after the sumptuous dinner was done, + To talke, and to reason a number begunn: + They talkt of the blind beggars daughter most bright, + And what with his daughter he gave to the knight. + + Then spake the nobles, "Much marveil have wee, + This jolly blind beggar wee cannot here see." + My lords, quoth the bride, my father's so base, + He is loth with his presence these states to disgrace. + + "The prayse of a woman in question to bringe + Before her own face, were a flattering thinge; + But wee thinke thy father's baseness," quoth they, + "Might by thy bewtye be cleane put awaye." + + They had noe sooner these pleasant words spoke, + But in comes the beggar cladd in a silke cloke; + A faire velvet capp, and a fether had hee, + And now a musicyan forsooth he wold bee. + + He had a daintye lute under his arme, + He touched the strings, which made such a charme, + Saies, Please you to heare any musicke of mee, + Ile sing you a song of pretty Bessee. + + With that his lute he twanged straightway, + And thereon begann most sweetlye to play; + And after that lessons were playd two or three, + He strayn'd out this song most delicatelèe. + + "A poore beggars daughter did dwell on a greene, + Who for her fairenesse might well be a queene: + A blithe bonny lasse, and a daintye was shee, + And many one called her pretty Bessee. + + "Her father hee had noe goods, nor noe land, + But begged for a penny all day with his hand; + And yett to her marriage he gave thousands three, + And still he hath somewhat for pretty Bessee. + + "And if any one here her birth doe disdaine, + Her father is ready, with might and with maine, + To proove shee is come of noble degree: + Therfore never flout att prettye Bessee." + + With that the lords and the companye round + With harty laughter were readye to swound; + Att last said the lords, Full well wee may see, + The bride and the beggar's behoulden to thee. + + On this the bride all blushing did rise, + The pearlie dropps standing within her faire eyes, + O pardon my father, grave nobles, quoth shee, + That throughe blind affection thus doteth on mee. + + If this be thy father, the nobles did say, + Well may he be proud of this happy day; + Yett by his countenance well may wee see, + His birth and his fortune did never agree: + + And therefore, blind man, we pray thee bewray, + (and looke that the truth thou to us doe say) + Thy birth and thy parentage, whatt itt may bee; + For the love that thou bearest to pretty Bessee. + + "Then give me leave, nobles and gentles, each one, + One song more to sing, and then I have done; + And if that itt may not winn good report, + Then doe not give me a GROAT for my sport. + + "Sir Simon de Montfort my subject shal bee; + Once chiefe of all the great barons was hee, + Yet fortune so cruelle this lorde did abase, + Now loste and forgotten are hee and his race. + + "When the barons in armes did King Henrye oppose, + Sir Simon de Montfort their leader they chose; + A leader of courage undaunted was hee, + And oft-times he made their enemyes flee. + + "At length in the battle on Eveshame plaine + The barons were routed, and Montford was slaine; + Moste fatall that battel did prove unto thee, + Thoughe thou wast not borne then, my prettye Bessee! + + "Along with the nobles, that fell at that tyde, + His eldest son Henrye, who fought by his side, + Was fellde by a blowe, he receivde in the fight! + A blowe that deprivde him for ever of sight. + + "Among the dead bodyes all lifeless he laye, + Till evening drewe on of the following daye, + When by a yong ladye discovered was hee; + And this was thy mother, my prettye Bessee! + + "A barons faire daughter stept forth in the nighte + To search for her father, who fell in the fight, + And seeing young Montfort, where gasping he laye, + Was moved with pitye, and brought him awaye. + + "In secrette she nurst him, and swaged his paine, + While he throughe the realme was beleeved to be slaine + At lengthe his faire bride she consented to bee, + And made him glad father of prettye Bessee. + + "And nowe lest oure foes our lives sholde betraye, + We clothed ourselves in beggars arraye; + Her jewelles shee solde, and hither came wee: + All our comfort and care was our prettye Bessee. + + "And here have we lived in fortunes despite, + Thoughe poore, yet contented with humble delighte: + Full forty winters thus have I beene + A silly blind beggar of Bednall-greene. + + "And here, noble lordes, is ended the song + Of one, that once to your own ranke did belong: + And thus have you learned a secrette from mee, + That ne'er had been knowne, but for prettye Bessee." + + Now when the faire companye everye one, + Had heard the strange tale in the song he had showne, + They all were amazed, as well they might bee, + Both at the blinde beggar, and pretty Bessee. + + With that the faire bride they all did embrace, + Saying, Sure thou art come of an honourable race, + Thy father likewise is of noble degree, + And thou art well worthy a lady to bee. + + Thus was the feast ended with joye and delighte, + A bridegroome most happy then was the younge knighte, + In joy and felicitie long lived hee, + All with his faire ladye, the pretty Bessee. + + +[Illustration: The Blind Beggar's Daughter of Bednall Green tailpiece] + + + + +THOMAS THE RHYMER + +[Illustration: Thomas the Rhymer headpiece] + +[Illustration: Thomas the Rhymer] + + Thomas lay on the Huntlie bank, + A spying ferlies wi his eee, + And he did spy a lady gay, + Come riding down by the lang lee. + + Her steed was o the dapple grey, + And at its mane there hung bells nine; + He thought he heard that lady say, + "They gowden bells sall a' be thine." + + Her mantle was o velvet green, + And a' set round wi jewels fine; + Her hawk and hounds were at her side, + And her bugle-horn wi gowd did shine. + + Thomas took aff baith cloak and cap, + For to salute this gay lady: + "O save ye, save ye, fair Queen o Heavn, + And ay weel met ye save and see!" + + "I'm no the Queen o Heavn, Thomas; + I never carried my head sae hee; + For I am but a lady gay, + Come out to hunt in my follee. + + "Now gin ye kiss my mouth, Thomas, + Ye mauna miss my fair bodee; + Then ye may een gang hame and tell + That ye've lain wi a gay ladee." + + "O gin I loe a lady fair, + Nae ill tales o her wad I tell, + And it's wi thee I fain wad gae, + Tho it were een to heavn or hell." + + "Then harp and carp, Thomas," she said, + "Then harp and carp alang wi me; + But it will be seven years and a day + Till ye win back to yere ain countrie." + + The lady rade, True Thomas ran, + Until they cam to a water wan; + O it was night, and nae delight, + And Thomas wade aboon the knee. + + It was dark night, and nae starn-light, + And on they waded lang days three, + And they heard the roaring o a flood, + And Thomas a waefou man was he. + + Then they rade on, and farther on, + Untill they came to a garden green; + To pu an apple he put up his hand, + For the lack o food he was like to tyne. + + "O haud yere hand, Thomas," she cried, + "And let that green flourishing be; + For it's the very fruit o hell, + Beguiles baith man and woman o yere countrie. + + "But look afore ye, True Thomas, + And I shall show ye ferlies three; + Yon is the gate leads to our land, + Where thou and I sae soon shall be. + + "And dinna ye see yon road, Thomas, + That lies out-owr yon lilly lee? + Weel is the man yon gate may gang, + For it leads him straight to the heavens hie. + + "But do you see yon road, Thomas, + That lies out-owr yon frosty fell? + Ill is the man yon gate may gang, + For it leads him straight to the pit o hell. + + "Now when ye come to our court, Thomas, + See that a weel-learned man ye be; + For they will ask ye, one and all, + But ye maun answer nane but me. + + "And when nae answer they obtain, + Then will they come and question me, + And I will answer them again + That I gat yere aith at the Eildon tree. + + * * * * * + + "Ilka seven years, Thomas, + We pay our teindings unto hell, + And ye're sae leesome and sae strang + That I fear, Thomas, it will be yeresell." + + + + +YOUNG BEICHAN + +[Illustration: Young Beichan headpiece] + +[Illustration: Young Beichan] + + In London city was Bicham born, + He longd strange countries for to see, + But he was taen by a savage Moor, + Who handld him right cruely. + + For thro his shoulder he put a bore, + An thro the bore has pitten a tree, + An he's gard him draw the carts o wine, + Where horse and oxen had wont to be. + + He's casten [him] in a dungeon deep, + Where he coud neither hear nor see; + He's shut him up in a prison strong, + An he's handld him right cruely. + + O this Moor he had but ae daughter, + I wot her name was Shusy Pye; + She's doen her to the prison-house, + And she's calld Young Bicham one word + + "O hae ye ony lands or rents, + Or citys in your ain country, + Coud free you out of prison strong, + An coud mantain a lady free?" + + "O London city is my own, + An other citys twa or three, + Coud loose me out o prison strong, + An coud mantain a lady free." + + O she has bribed her father's men + Wi meikle goud and white money, + She's gotten the key o the prison doors, + An she has set Young Bicham free. + + She's g'in him a loaf o good white bread, + But an a flask o Spanish wine, + An she bad him mind on the ladie's love + That sae kindly freed him out o pine. + + "Go set your foot on good ship-board, + An haste you back to your ain country, + An before that seven years has an end, + Come back again, love, and marry me." + + It was long or seven years had an end + She longd fu sair her love to see; + She's set her foot on good ship-board, + And turnd her back on her ain country. + + She's saild up, so has she doun, + Till she came to the other side; + She's landed at Young Bicham's gates, + An I hop this day she sal be his bride. + + "Is this Young Bicham's gates?" says she, + "Or is that noble prince within?" + "He's up the stairs wi his bonny bride, + An monny a lord and lady wi him." + + "O has he taen a bonny bride, + An has he clean forgotten me!" + An sighing said that gay lady, + I wish I were in my ain country! + + But she's pitten her han in her pocket, + An gin the porter guineas three; + Says, Take ye that, ye proud porter, + An bid the bridegroom speak to me. + + O whan the porter came up the stair, + He's fa'n low down upon his knee: + "Won up, won up, ye proud porter, + An what makes a' this courtesy?" + + "O I've been porter at your gates + This mair nor seven years an three, + But there is a lady at them now + The like of whom I never did see. + + "For on every finger she has a ring, + An on the mid-finger she has three, + An there's a meikle goud aboon her brow + As woud buy an earldome o lan to me." + + Then up it started Young Bicham, + An sware so loud by Our Lady, + "It can be nane but Shusy Pye, + That has come oer the sea to me." + + O quickly ran he down the stair, + O fifteen steps he has made but three; + He's tane his bonny love in his arms, + An a wot he kissd her tenderly. + + "O hae you tane a bonny bride? + An hae you quite forsaken me? + An hae ye quite forgotten her + That gae you life an liberty?" + + She's lookit oer her left shoulder + To hide the tears stood in her ee; + "Now fare thee well, Young Bicham," she says, + "I'll strive to think nae mair on thee." + + "Take back your daughter, madam," he says, + "An a double dowry I'll gi her wi; + For I maun marry my first true love, + That's done and suffered so much for me." + + He's take his bonny love by the ban, + And led her to yon fountain stane; + He's changd her name frae Shusy Pye, + An he's cald her his bonny love, Lady Jane. + + + + +BRAVE LORD WILLOUGHBEY + +[Illustration: Brave Lord Willoughbey headpiece] + + + The fifteenth day of July, + With glistering spear and shield, + A famous fight in Flanders + Was foughten in the field: + The most couragious officers + Were English captains three; + But the bravest man in battel + Was brave Lord Willoughbèy. + + The next was Captain Norris, + A valiant man was hee: + The other Captain Turner, + From field would never flee. + With fifteen hundred fighting men, + Alas! there were no more, + They fought with fourteen thousand then, + Upon the bloody shore. + + Stand to it, noble pikemen, + And look you round about: + And shoot you right, you bow-men, + And we will keep them out: + You musquet and callèver men, + Do you prove true to me, + I'le be the formost man in fight, + Says brave Lord Willoughbèy. + + And then the bloody enemy + They fiercely did assail, + And fought it out most furiously, + Not doubting to prevail: + The wounded men on both sides fell + Most pitious for to see, + Yet nothing could the courage quell + Of brave Lord Willoughbèy. + + For seven hours to all mens view + This fight endured sore, + Until our men so feeble grew + That they could fight no more; + And then upon dead horses + Full savourly they eat, + And drank the puddle water, + They could no better get. + + When they had fed so freely, + They kneeled on the ground, + And praised God devoutly + For the favour they had found; + And beating up their colours, + The fight they did renew, + And turning tow'rds the Spaniard, + A thousand more they slew. + + The sharp steel-pointed arrows, + And bullets thick did fly, + Then did our valiant soldiers + Charge on most furiously; + Which made the Spaniards waver, + They thought it best to flee, + They fear'd the stout behaviour + Of brave Lord Willoughbey. + + Then quoth the Spanish general, + Come let us march away, + I fear we shall be spoiled all + If here we longer stay; + For yonder comes Lord Willoughbey + With courage fierce and fell, + He will not give one inch of way + For all the devils in hell. + + And then the fearful enemy + Was quickly put to flight, + Our men persued couragiously, + And caught their forces quite; + But at last they gave a shout, + Which ecchoed through the sky, + God, and St. George for England! + The conquerors did cry. + + This news was brought to England + With all the speed might be, + And soon our gracious queen was told + Of this same victory. + O this is brave Lord Willoughbey, + My love that ever won, + Of all the lords of honour + 'Tis he great deeds hath done. + + To the souldiers that were maimed, + And wounded in the fray, + The queen allowed a pension + Of fifteen pence a day; + And from all costs and charges + She quit and set them free: + And this she did all for the sake + Of brave Lord Willoughbey. + + Then courage, noble Englishmen, + And never be dismaid; + If that we be but one to ten, + We will not be afraid + To fight with foraign enemies, + And set our nation free. + And thus I end the bloody bout + Of brave Lord Willoughbey. + + + + +THE SPANISH LADY'S LOVE + +[Illustration: The Spanish Lady's Love headpiece] + + + Will you hear a Spanish lady, + How shed wooed an English man? + Garments gay and rich as may be + Decked with jewels she had on. + Of a comely countenance and grace was she, + And by birth and parentage of high degree. + + As his prisoner there he kept her, + In his hands her life did lye! + Cupid's bands did tye them faster + By the liking of an eye. + In his courteous company was all her joy, + To favour him in any thing she was not coy. + + But at last there came commandment + For to set the ladies free, + With their jewels still adorned, + None to do them injury. + Then said this lady mild, Full woe is me; + O let me still sustain this kind captivity! + + Gallant captain, shew some pity + To a ladye in distresse; + Leave me not within this city, + For to dye in heavinesse: + Thou hast this present day my body free, + But my heart in prison still remains with thee. + + "How should'st thou, fair lady, love me, + Whom thou knowest thy country's foe? + Thy fair wordes make me suspect thee: + Serpents lie where flowers grow." + All the harme I wishe to thee, most courteous knight, + God grant the same upon my head may fully light. + + Blessed be the time and season, + That you came on Spanish ground; + If our foes you may be termed, + Gentle foes we have you found: + With our city, you have won our hearts eche one, + Then to your country bear away, that is your owne. + + "Rest you still, most gallant lady; + Rest you still, and weep no more; + Of fair lovers there is plenty, + Spain doth yield a wonderous store." + Spaniards fraught with jealousy we often find, + But Englishmen through all the world are counted kind. + + Leave me not unto a Spaniard, + You alone enjoy my heart: + I am lovely, young, and tender, + Love is likewise my desert: + Still to serve thee day and night my mind is prest; + The wife of every Englishman is counted blest. + + "It wold be a shame, fair lady, + For to bear a woman hence; + English soldiers never carry + Any such without offence." + I'll quickly change myself, if it be so, + And like a page He follow thee, where'er thou go. + + "I have neither gold nor silver + To maintain thee in this case, + And to travel is great charges, + As you know in every place." + My chains and jewels every one shal be thy own, + And eke five hundred pounds in gold that lies unknown. + + "On the seas are many dangers, + Many storms do there arise, + Which wil be to ladies dreadful, + And force tears from watery eyes." + Well in troth I shall endure extremity, + For I could find in heart to lose my life for thee. + + "Courteous ladye, leave this fancy, + Here comes all that breeds the strife; + I in England have already + A sweet woman to my wife: + I will not falsify my vow for gold nor gain, + Nor yet for all the fairest dames that live in Spain." + + O how happy is that woman + That enjoys so true a friend! + Many happy days God send her; + Of my suit I make an end: + On my knees I pardon crave for my offence, + Which did from love and true affection first commence. + + Commend me to thy lovely lady, + Bear to her this chain of gold; + And these bracelets for a token; + Grieving that I was so bold: + All my jewels in like sort take thou with thee, + For they are fitting for thy wife, but not for me. + + I will spend my days in prayer, + Love and all her laws defye; + In a nunnery will I shroud mee + Far from any companye: + But ere my prayers have an end, be sure of this, + To pray for thee and for thy love I will not miss. + + 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! + "The like fall ever to thy share, most fair ladie." + + + + +THE FRIAR OF ORDERS GRAY + +[Illustration: The Friar of Orders Gray headpiece] + + + It was a friar of orders gray + Walkt forth to tell his beades; + And he met with a lady faire, + Clad in a pilgrime's weedes. + + Now Christ thee save, thou reverend friar, + I pray thee tell to me, + If ever at yon holy shrine + My true love thou didst see. + + And how should I know your true love + From many another one? + O by his cockle hat, and staff, + And by his sandal shoone. + + But chiefly by his face and mien, + That were so fair to view; + His flaxen locks that sweetly curl'd, + And eyne of lovely blue. + + O lady, he is dead and gone! + Lady, he's dead and gone! + And at his head a green grass turfe, + And at his heels a stone. + + Within these holy cloysters long + He languisht, and he dyed, + Lamenting of a ladyes love, + And 'playning of her pride. + + Here bore him barefac'd on his bier + Six proper youths and tall, + And many a tear bedew'd his grave + Within yon kirk-yard wall. + + And art thou dead, thou gentle youth! + And art thou dead and gone! + And didst thou die for love of me! + Break, cruel heart of stone! + + O weep not, lady, weep not soe; + Some ghostly comfort seek: + Let not vain sorrow rive thy heart, + Ne teares bedew thy cheek. + + O do not, do not, holy friar, + My sorrow now reprove; + For I have lost the sweetest youth, + That e'er wan ladyes love. + + And nowe, alas! for thy sad losse, + I'll evermore weep and sigh; + For thee I only wisht to live, + For thee I wish to dye. + + Weep no more, lady, weep no more, + Thy sorrowe is in vaine: + For violets pluckt the sweetest showers + Will ne'er make grow againe. + + Our joys as winged dreams doe flye, + Why then should sorrow last? + Since grief but aggravates thy losse, + Grieve not for what is past. + + O say not soe, thou holy friar; + I pray thee, say not soe: + For since my true-love dyed for mee, + 'Tis meet my tears should flow. + + And will he ne'er come again? + Will he ne'er come again? + Ah! no, he is dead and laid in his grave, + For ever to remain. + + His cheek was redder than the rose; + The comliest youth was he! + But he is dead and laid in his grave: + Alas, and woe is me! + + Sigh no more, lady, sigh no more, + Men were deceivers ever: + One foot on sea and one on land, + To one thing constant never. + + Hadst thou been fond, he had been false, + And left thee sad and heavy; + For young men ever were fickle found, + Since summer trees were leafy. + + Now say not so, thou holy friar, + I pray thee say not soe; + My love he had the truest heart: + O he was ever true! + + And art thou dead, thou much-lov'd youth, + And didst thou dye for mee? + Then farewell home; for ever-more + A pilgrim I will bee. + + But first upon my true-loves grave + My weary limbs I'll lay, + And thrice I'll kiss the green-grass turf, + That wraps his breathless clay. + + Yet stay, fair lady; rest awhile + Beneath this cloyster wall: + See through the hawthorn blows the cold wind, + And drizzly rain doth fall. + + O stay me not, thou holy friar; + O stay me not, I pray; + No drizzly rain that falls on me, + Can wash my fault away. + + Yet stay, fair lady, turn again, + And dry those pearly tears; + For see beneath this gown of gray + Thy own true-love appears. + + Here forc'd by grief, and hopeless love, + These holy weeds I sought; + And here amid these lonely walls + To end my days I thought. + + But haply for my year of grace + Is not yet past away, + Might I still hope to win thy love, + No longer would I stay. + + Now farewell grief, and welcome joy + Once more unto my heart; + For since I have found thee, lovely youth, + We never more will part. + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Book of Ballads, Volume 2, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BOOK OF BALLADS, VOLUME 2 *** + +***** This file should be named 7532-8.txt or 7532-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/5/3/7532/ + +Produced by David Widger, Juliet Sutherland, Phil McLaury, +Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading +Team. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Book of Ballads, Volume 2 + +Author: Various + +Editor: Beverly Nichols + +Posting Date: April 29, 2014 [EBook #7532] +Release Date: February, 2005 +First Posted: May 15, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BOOK OF BALLADS, VOLUME 2 *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger, Juliet Sutherland, Phil McLaury, +Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading +Team. Text version by Al Haines. + + + + + + + + + + + + +A BOOK OF OLD BALLADS + +Selected and with an Introduction + +by + +BEVERLEY NICHOLS + + +[Illustration: Title page art] + + + + + + CONTENTS + + THE HEIR OF LINNE + KING COPHETUA AND THE BEGGAR MAID + SIR ANDREW BARTON + MAY COLLIN + THE BLIND BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER OF BEDNALL GREEN + THOMAS THE RHYMER + YOUNG BEICHAN + BRAVE LORD WILLOUGHBEY + THE SPANISH LADY'S LOVE + THE FRIAR OF ORDERS GRAY + + + + LIST OF COLOUR PLATES + + KING COPHETUA AND THE BEGGAR MAID + MAY COLLIN + THOMAS THE RHYMER + YOUNG BEICHAN + + + + +THE HEIR OF LINNE + +[Illustration: The Heir of Linne headpiece] + + 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, + 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, + To card and dice from eve to morne, + It was, I ween, his hearts delighte. + + To ride, to runne, to rant, to roare, + To alwaye spend and never spare, + I wott, an' it were the king himselfe, + 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 sell his landes so broad, + His house, and landes, and all his rent. + + 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, + Let nought disturb thy merry cheere; + Iff thou wilt sell thy landes soe broad, + Good store of gold Ile give thee heere, + + My gold is gone, my money is spent; + My lande nowe take it unto thee: + 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; + But for every pounde that John agreed, + 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 Ile be the lord of Linne. + + 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. + My sonne, when I am gonne, sayd hee, + Then thou wilt spend thy land so broad, + And thou wilt spend thy gold so free: + + But sweare me nowe upon the roode, + That lonesome lodge thou'lt never spend; + 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, + And he that spares, ne'er mote he thee. + + 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. + + He had never a penny 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, + 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? + Ile 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, + And bade him sharpely wend his way. + + Now well-aday, sayd the heire of Linne, + Now well-aday, and woe is me; + For when I had my landes so broad, + On me they liv'd right merrilee. + + To beg my bread from door to door + I wis, it were a brenning shame: + To rob and steale it were a sinne: + To worke my limbs I cannot frame. + + Now Ile away to lonesome lodge, + For there my father bade me wend; + 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, + 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; + No shimmering sunn here ever shone; + No halesome breeze here ever blew. + + No chair, ne table he mote spye, + No cheerful hearth, ne welcome bed, + Nought save a rope with renning noose, + That dangling hung up o'er his head. + + And over it in broad letters, + These words were written so plain to see: + "Ah! gracelesse wretch, hast spent thine all, + And brought thyselfe to penurie? + + "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, + 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: + "This is a trusty friend indeed, + And is right welcome unto mee." + + Then round his necke the corde he drewe, + And sprung aloft with his bodie: + When lo! the ceiling burst in twaine, + And to the ground came tumbling hee. + + Astonyed lay the heire of Linne, + Ne knewe if he were live or dead: + At length he looked, and saw a bille, + And in it a key of gold so redd. + + He took the bill, and lookt it on, + Strait good comfort found he there: + It told him of a hole in the wall, + In which there stood three chests in-fere. + + Two were full of the beaten golde, + 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; + 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: + For here I will make mine avow, + This reade shall guide me to the end. + + Away then went with a merry cheare, + Away then went the heire of Linne; + I wis, he neither ceas'd ne blanne, + Till John o' the Scales house he did winne. + + 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, + 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: + For Christs curse on my head, he sayd, + If ever I trust thee one pennee. + + Then bespake the heire of Linne, + To John o' the Scales wife then spake he: + Madame, some almes on me bestowe, + I pray for sweet Saint Charitee. + + Away, away, thou thriftless loone, + I swear thou gettest no almes of mee; + For if we shold hang any losel heere, + The first we wold begin with thee. + + 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, + And sparedst not thy gold nor 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: + 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, + 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. + + I draw you to record, lords, he said. + With that he cast him a gods pennie: + Now by my fay, sayd the heire of Linne, + And here, good John, is thy money. + + And he pull'd forth three bagges of gold, + And layd them down upon the bord: + All woe begone was John o' the Scales, + Soe shent he cold say never a word. + + He told him forth the good red gold, + He told it forth with mickle dinne. + The gold is thine, the land is mine, + And now Ime againe the lord of Linne. + + Sayes, Have thou here, thou good fellowe, + Forty pence thou didst lend me: + Now I am againe the lord of Linne, + 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. + + 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. + + Now fare thee well, sayd the heire of Linne; + Farewell now, John o' the Scales, said hee: + Christs curse light on me, if ever again + I bring my lands in jeopardy. + +[Illustration: The Heir of Linne tailpiece] + + + + +KING COPHETUA AND THE BEGGAR MAID + +[Illustration: The King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid headpiece] + + +[Illustration: The King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid] + + I Read that once in Affrica + A princely wight did raine, + Who had to name Cophetua, + As poets they did faine: + From natures lawes he did decline, + For sure he was not of my mind. + He cared not for women-kinde, + But did them all disdaine. + But, marke, what hapened on a day, + As he out of his window lay, + He saw a beggar all in gray, + The which did cause his paine. + + The blinded boy, that shootes so trim, + From heaven downe did hie; + He drew a dart and shot at him, + In place where he did lye: + Which soone did pierse him to the quicke. + And when he felt the arrow pricke, + Which in his tender heart did sticke, + He looketh as he would dye. + What sudden chance is this, quoth he, + That I to love must subject be, + Which never thereto would agree, + But still did it defie? + + Then from the window he did come, + And laid him on his bed, + A thousand heapes of care did runne + Within his troubled head: + For now he meanes to crave her love, + And now he seekes which way to proove + How he his fancie might remoove, + And not this beggar wed. + But Cupid had him so in snare, + That this poor begger must prepare + A salve to cure him of his care, + Or els he would be dead. + + And, as he musing thus did lye, + He thought for to devise + How he might have her companye, + That so did 'maze his eyes. + In thee, quoth he, doth rest my life; + For surely thou shalt be my wife, + Or else this hand with bloody knife + The Gods shall sure suffice. + Then from his bed he soon arose, + And to his pallace gate he goes; + Full little then this begger knowes + When she the king espies. + + The Gods preserve your majesty, + The beggers all gan cry: + Vouchsafe to give your charity + Our childrens food to buy. + The king to them his pursse did cast, + And they to part it made great haste; + This silly woman was the last + That after them did hye. + The king he cal'd her back againe, + And unto her he gave his chaine; + And said, With us you shal remaine + Till such time as we dye: + + For thou, quoth he, shalt be my wife, + And honoured for my queene; + With thee I meane to lead my life, + As shortly shall be seene: + Our wedding shall appointed be, + And every thing in its degree: + Come on, quoth he, and follow me, + Thou shalt go shift thee cleane. + What is thy name, faire maid? quoth he. + Penelophon, O king, quoth she; + With that she made a lowe courtsey; + A trim one as I weene. + + Thus hand in hand along they walke + Unto the king's pallace: + The king with curteous comly talke + This beggar doth imbrace: + The begger blusheth scarlet red, + And straight againe as pale as lead, + But not a word at all she said, + She was in such amaze. + At last she spake with trembling voyce, + And said, O king, I doe rejoyce + That you wil take me from your choyce, + And my degree's so base. + + And when the wedding day was come, + The king commanded strait + The noblemen both all and some + Upon the queene to wait. + And she behaved herself that day, + As if she had never walkt the way; + She had forgot her gown of gray, + Which she did weare of late. + The proverbe old is come to passe, + The priest, when he begins his masse, + Forgets that ever clerke he was; + He knowth not his estate. + + Here you may read, Cophetua, + Though long time fancie-fed, + Compelled by the blinded boy + The begger for to wed: + He that did lovers lookes disdaine, + To do the same was glad and faine, + Or else he would himselfe have slaine, + In storie, as we read. + Disdaine no whit, O lady deere, + But pitty now thy servant heere, + Least that it hap to thee this yeare, + As to that king it did. + + And thus they led a quiet life + Duringe their princely raigne; + And in a tombe were buried both, + As writers sheweth plaine. + The lords they tooke it grievously, + The ladies tooke it heavily, + The commons cryed pitiously, + Their death to them was paine, + Their fame did sound so passingly, + That it did pierce the starry sky, + And throughout all the world did flye + To every princes realme. + + +[Illustration: The King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid tailpiece] + + + +SIR ANDREW BARTON + + +[Illustration: Sir Andrew Barton headpiece] + + + + 'When Flora with her fragrant flowers + Bedeckt the earth so trim and gaye, + And Neptune with his daintye showers + Came to present the monthe of Maye;' + King Henrye rode to take the ayre, + Over the river of Thames past hee; + When eighty merchants of London came, + And downe they knelt upon their knee. + + "O yee are welcome, rich merchants; + Good saylors, welcome unto mee." + They swore by the rood, they were saylors good, + But rich merchants they cold not bee: + "To France nor Flanders dare we pass: + Nor Bourdeaux voyage dare we fare; + And all for a rover that lyes on the seas, + Who robbs us of our merchant ware." + + King Henrye frowned, and turned him rounde, + And swore by the Lord, that was mickle of might, + "I thought he had not beene in the world, + Durst have wrought England such unright." + The merchants sighed, and said, alas! + And thus they did their answer frame, + He is a proud Scott, that robbs on the seas, + And Sir Andrewe Barton is his name. + + The king lookt over his left shoulder, + And an angrye look then looked hee: + "Have I never a lorde in all my realme, + Will feitch yond tray tor unto me?" + Yea, that dare I; Lord Howard sayes; + Yea, that dare I with heart and hand; + If it please your grace to give me leave, + Myselfe wil be the only man. + + Thou art but yong; the kyng replyed: + Yond Scott hath numbered manye a yeare. + "Trust me, my liege, lie make him quail, + Or before my prince I will never appeare." + Then bowemen and gunners thou shalt have, + And chuse them over my realme so free; + Besides good mariners, and shipp-boyes, + To guide the great shipp on the sea. + + The first man, that Lord Howard chose, + Was the ablest gunner in all the realm, + Thoughe he was three score yeeres and ten; + Good Peter Simon was his name. + Peter, sais hee, I must to the sea, + To bring home a traytor live or dead: + Before all others I have chosen thee; + Of a hundred gunners to be the head. + + If you, my lord, have chosen mee + Of a hundred gunners to be the head, + Then hang me up on your maine-mast tree, + If I misse my marke one shilling bread. + My lord then chose a boweman rare, + "Whose active hands had gained fame." + In Yorkshire was this gentleman borne, + And William Horseley was his name. + + Horseley, said he, I must with speede + Go seeke a traytor on the sea, + And now of a hundred bowemen brave + To be the head I have chosen thee. + If you, quoth hee, have chosen mee + Of a hundred bowemen to be the head + On your main-mast He hanged bee, + If I miss twelvescore one penny bread. + + With pikes and gunnes, and bowemen bold, + This noble Howard is gone to the sea; + With a valyant heart and a pleasant cheare, + Out at Thames mouth sayled he. + And days he scant had sayled three, + Upon the 'voyage,' he tooke in hand, + But there he mett with a noble shipp, + And stoutely made itt stay and stand. + + Thou must tell me, Lord Howard said, + Now who thou art, and what's thy name; + And shewe me where they dwelling is: + And whither bound, and whence thou came. + My name is Henry Hunt, quoth hee + With a heavye heart, and a carefull mind; + I and my shipp doe both belong + To the Newcastle, that stands upon Tyne. + + Hast thou not heard, nowe, Henrye Hunt, + As thou hast sayled by daye and by night, + Of a Scottish rover on the seas; + Men call him Sir Andrew Barton, knight! + Then ever he sighed, and said alas! + With a grieved mind, and well away! + But over-well I knowe that wight, + I was his prisoner yesterday. + + As I was sayling uppon the sea, + A Burdeaux voyage for to fare; + To his hach-borde he clasped me, + And robd me of all my merchant ware: + And mickle debts, God wot, I owe, + And every man will have his owne; + And I am nowe to London bounde, + Of our gracious king to beg a boone. + + That shall not need, Lord Howard sais; + Lett me but once that robber see, + For every penny tane thee froe + It shall be doubled shillings three. + Nowe God forefend, the merchant said, + That you should seek soe far amisse! + God keepe you out of that traitors hands! + Full litle ye wott what a man hee is. + + Hee is brasse within, and steele without, + With beames on his topcastle stronge; + And eighteen pieces of ordinance + He carries on each side along: + And he hath a pinnace deerlye dight, + St. Andrewes crosse that is his guide; + His pinnace beareth ninescore men, + And fifteen canons on each side. + + Were ye twentye shippes, and he but one; + I sweare by kirke, and bower, and hall; + He wold overcome them everye one, + If once his beames they doe downe fall. + This is cold comfort, sais my lord, + To wellcome a stranger thus to the sea: + Yet He bring him and his ship to shore, + Or to Scottland hee shall carrye mee. + + Then a noble gunner you must have, + And he must aim well with his ee, + And sinke his pinnace into the sea, + Or else hee never orecome will bee: + And if you chance his shipp to borde, + This counsel I must give withall, + Let no man to his topcastle goe + To strive to let his beams downe fall. + + And seven pieces of ordinance, + I pray your honour lend to mee, + On each side of my shipp along, + And I will lead you on the sea. + A glasse He sett, that may be seene + Whether you sail by day or night; + And to-morrowe, I sweare, by nine of the clocke + You shall meet with Sir Andrewe Barton knight. + + + + THE SECOND PART + + The merchant sett my lorde a glasse + Soe well apparent in his sight, + And on the morrowe, by nine of the clocke, + He shewed him Sir Andrewe Barton knight. + His hachebord it was 'gilt' with gold, + Soe deerlye dight it dazzled the ee: + Nowe by my faith, Lord Howarde sais, + This is a gallant sight to see. + + Take in your ancyents, standards eke, + So close that no man may them see; + And put me forth a white willowe wand, + As merchants use to sayle the sea. + But they stirred neither top, nor mast; + Stoutly they past Sir Andrew by. + What English churles are yonder, he sayd, + That can soe little curtesye? + + Now by the roode, three yeares and more + I have beene admirall over the sea; + And never an English nor Portingall + Without my leave can passe this way. + Then called he forth his stout pinnace; + "Fetch backe yond pedlars nowe to mee: + I sweare by the masse, yon English churles + Shall all hang att my maine-mast tree." + + With that the pinnace itt shot off, + Full well Lord Howard might it ken; + For itt stroke down my lord's fore mast, + And killed fourteen of his men. + Come hither, Simon, sayes my lord, + Looke that thy word be true, thou said; + For at my maine-mast thou shalt hang, + If thou misse thy marke one shilling bread. + + Simon was old, but his heart itt was bold; + His ordinance he laid right lowe; + He put in chaine full nine yardes long, + With other great shott lesse, and moe; + And he lette goe his great gunnes shott: + Soe well he settled itt with his ee, + The first sight that Sir Andrew sawe, + He see his pinnace sunke in the sea. + + And when he saw his pinnace sunke, + Lord, how his heart with rage did swell! + "Nowe cutt my ropes, itt is time to be gon; + Ile fetch yond pedlars backe mysell." + When my lord sawe Sir Andrewe loose, + Within his heart he was full faine: + "Now spread your ancyents, strike up your drummes, + Sound all your trumpetts out amaine." + + Fight on, my men, Sir Andrewe sais, + Weale howsoever this geere will sway; + Itt is my Lord Admirall of England, + Is come to seeke mee on the sea. + Simon had a sonne, who shott right well, + That did Sir Andrewe mickle scare; + In att his decke he gave a shott, + Killed threescore of his men of warre. + + Then Henrye Hunt with rigour hott + Came bravely on the other side, + Soone he drove downe his fore-mast tree, + And killed fourscore men beside. + Nowe, out alas! Sir Andrewe cryed, + What may a man now thinke, or say? + Yonder merchant theefe, that pierceth mee, + He was my prisoner yesterday. + + Come hither to me, thou Gordon good, + That aye wast readye att my call: + I will give thee three hundred markes, + If thou wilt let my beames downe fall. + Lord Howard hee then calld in haste, + "Horseley see thou be true in stead; + For thou shalt at the maine-mast hang, + If thou misse twelvescore one penny bread." + + Then Gordon swarved the maine-mast tree, + He swarved it with might and maine; + But Horseley with a bearing arrowe, + Stroke the Gordon through the braine; + And he fell unto the haches again, + And sore his deadlye wounde did bleed: + Then word went through Sir Andrews men, + How that the Gordon hee was dead. + + Come hither to mee, James Hambilton, + Thou art my only sisters sonne, + If thou wilt let my beames downe fall + Six hundred nobles thou hast wonne. + With that he swarved the maine-mast tree, + He swarved it with nimble art; + But Horseley with a broad arrowe + Pierced the Hambilton thorough the heart: + + And downe he fell upon the deck, + That with his blood did streame amaine: + Then every Scott cryed, Well-away! + Alas! a comelye youth is slaine. + All woe begone was Sir Andrew then, + With griefe and rage his heart did swell: + "Go fetch me forth my armour of proofe, + For I will to the topcastle mysell." + + "Goe fetch me forth my armour of proofe; + That gilded is with gold soe cleare: + God be with my brother John of Barton! + Against the Portingalls hee it ware; + And when he had on this armour of proofe, + He was a gallant sight to see: + Ah! nere didst thou meet with living wight, + My deere brother, could cope with thee." + + Come hither Horseley, sayes my lord, + And looke your shaft that itt goe right, + Shoot a good shoote in time of need, + And for it thou shalt be made a knight. + Ile shoot my best, quoth Horseley then, + Your honour shall see, with might and maine; + But if I were hanged at your maine-mast, + I have now left but arrowes twaine. + + Sir Andrew he did swarve the tree, + With right good will he swarved then: + Upon his breast did Horseley hitt, + But the arrow bounded back agen. + Then Horseley spyed a privye place + With a perfect eye in a secrette part; + Under the spole of his right arme + He smote Sir Andrew to the heart. + + "Fight on, my men," Sir Andrew sayes, + "A little Ime hurt, but yett not slaine; + He but lye downe and bleede a while, + And then He rise and fight againe. + Fight on, my men," Sir Andrew sayes, + "And never flinch before the foe; + And stand fast by St. Andrewes crosse + Until you heare my whistle blowe." + + They never heard his whistle blow-- + Which made their hearts waxe sore adread: + Then Horseley sayd, Aboard, my lord, + For well I wott Sir Andrew's dead. + They boarded then his noble shipp, + They boarded it with might and maine; + Eighteen score Scots alive they found, + The rest were either maimed or slaine. + + Lord Howard tooke a sword in hand, + And off he smote Sir Andrewes head, + "I must have left England many a daye, + If thou wert alive as thou art dead." + He caused his body to be cast + Over the hatchboard into the sea, + And about his middle three hundred crownes: + "Wherever thou land this will bury thee." + + Thus from the warres Lord Howard came, + And backe he sayled ore the maine, + With mickle joy and triumphing + Into Thames mouth he came againe. + Lord Howard then a letter wrote, + And sealed it with scale and ring; + "Such a noble prize have I brought to your grace, + As never did subject to a king: + + "Sir Andrewes shipp I bring with mee; + A braver shipp was never none: + Nowe hath your grace two shipps of warr, + Before in England was but one." + King Henryes grace with royall cheere + Welcomed the noble Howard home, + And where, said he, is this rover stout, + That I myselfe may give the doome? + + "The rover, he is safe, my liege, + Full many a fadom in the sea; + If he were alive as he is dead, + I must have left England many a day: + And your grace may thank four men i' the ship + For the victory wee have wonne, + These are William Horseley, Henry Hunt, + And Peter Simon, and his sonne." + + To Henry Hunt, the king then sayd, + In lieu of what was from thee tane, + A noble a day now thou shalt have, + Sir Andrewes jewels and his chayne. + And Horseley thou shalt be a knight, + And lands and livings shalt have store; + Howard shall be erle Surrye hight, + As Howards erst have beene before. + + Nowe, Peter Simon, thou art old, + I will maintaine thee and thy sonne: + And the men shall have five hundred markes + For the good service they have done. + Then in came the queene with ladyes fair + To see Sir Andrewe Barton knight: + They weend that hee were brought on shore, + And thought to have seen a gallant sight. + + But when they see his deadlye face, + And eyes soe hollow in his head, + I wold give, quoth the king, a thousand markes, + This man were alive as hee is dead: + Yett for the manfull part hee playd, + Which fought soe well with heart and hand, + His men shall have twelvepence a day, + Till they come to my brother kings high land. + + + + +MAY COLLIN + +[Illustration: May Collin headpiece] + +[Illustration: May Collin] + + May Collin ... + ... was her father's heir, + And she fell in love with a false priest, + And she rued it ever mair. + + He followd her butt, he followd her benn, + He followd her through the hall, + Till she had neither tongue nor teeth + Nor lips to say him naw. + + "We'll take the steed out where he is, + The gold where eer it be, + And we'll away to some unco land, + And married we shall be." + + They had not riden a mile, a mile, + A mile but barely three, + Till they came to a rank river, + Was raging like the sea. + + "Light off, light off now, May Collin, + It's here that you must die; + Here I have drownd seven king's daughters, + The eight now you must be. + + "Cast off, cast off now, May Collin, + Your gown that's of the green; + For it's oer good and oer costly + To rot in the sea-stream. + + "Cast off, cast off now, May Collin, + Your coat that's of the black; + For it's oer good and oer costly + To rot in the sea-wreck. + + "Cast off, cast off now, May Collin, + Your stays that are well laced; + For thei'r oer good and costly + In the sea's ground to waste. + + "Cast [off, cast off now, May Collin,] + Your sark that's of the holland; + For [it's oer good and oer costly] + To rot in the sea-bottom." + + "Turn you about now, falsh Mess John, + To the green leaf of the tree; + It does not fit a mansworn man + A naked woman to see." + + He turnd him quickly round about, + To the green leaf of the tree; + She took him hastly in her arms + And flung him in the sea. + + "Now lye you there, you falsh Mess John, + My mallasin go with thee! + You thought to drown me naked and bare, + But take your cloaths with thee, + And if there be seven king's daughters there + Bear you them company" + + She lap on her milk steed + And fast she bent the way, + And she was at her father's yate + Three long hours or day. + + Up and speaks the wylie parrot, + So wylily and slee: + "Where is the man now, May Collin, + That gaed away wie thee?" + + "Hold your tongue, my wylie parrot, + And tell no tales of me, + And where I gave a pickle befor + It's now I'll give you three." + +[Illustration: May Collin tailpiece] + + + + +THE BLIND BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER OF BEDNALL GREEN + +[Illustration: The Blind Beggar's Daughter of Bednall Green headpiece] + + + PART THE FIRST + + Itt was a blind beggar, had long lost his sight, + He had a faire daughter of bewty most bright; + And many a gallant brave suiter had shee, + For none was soe comelye as pretty Bessee. + + And though shee was of favour most faire, + Yett seeing shee was but a poor beggars heyre, + Of ancyent housekeepers despised was shee, + Whose sonnes came as suitors to prettye Bessee. + + Wherefore in great sorrow faire Bessy did say, + Good father, and mother, let me goe away + To seeke out my fortune, whatever itt bee. + This suite then they granted to prettye Bessee. + + Then Bessy, that was of bewtye soe bright, + All cladd in gray russett, and late in the night + From father and mother alone parted shee; + Who sighed and sobbed for prettye Bessee. + + Shee went till shee came to Stratford-le-Bow; + Then knew shee not whither, nor which way to goe: + With teares shee lamented her hard destinie, + So sadd and soe heavy was pretty Bessee. + + Shee kept on her journey untill it was day, + And went unto Rumford along the hye way; + Where at the Queenes armes entertained was shee; + Soe faire and wel favoured was pretty Bessee. + + Shee had not beene there a month to an end, + But master and mistress and all was her friend: + And every brave gallant, that once did her see, + Was straight-way enamoured of pretty Bessee. + + Great gifts they did send her of silver and gold, + And in their songs daylye her love was extold; + Her beawtye was blazed in every degree; + Soe faire and soe comelye was pretty Bessee. + + The young men of Rumford in her had their joy; + Shee shewed herself curteous, and modestlye coye; + And at her commandment still wold they bee; + Soe fayre and soe comlye was pretty Bessee. + + Foure suitors att once unto her did goe; + They craved her favor, but still she sayd noe; + I wold not wish gentles to marry with mee. + Yett ever they honored prettye Bessee. + + The first of them was a gallant young knight, + And he came unto her disguisde in the night; + The second a gentleman of good degree, + Who wooed and sued for prettye Bessee. + + A merchant of London, whose wealth was not small, + He was the third suiter, and proper withall: + Her masters own sonne the fourth man must bee, + Who swore he would dye for pretty Bessee. + + And, if thou wilt marry with mee, quoth the knight, + Ile make thee a ladye with joy and delight; + My hart's so inthralled by thy bewtle, + That soone I shall dye for prettye Bessee. + + The gentleman sayd, Come, marry with mee, + As fine as a ladye my Bessy shal bee: + My life is distressed: O heare me, quoth hee; + And grant me thy love, my prettye Bessee. + + Let me bee thy husband, the merchant cold say, + Thou shalt live in London both gallant and gay; + My shippes shall bring home rych jewells for thee, + And I will for ever love pretty Bessee. + + Then Bessy shee sighed, and thus she did say, + My father and mother I meane to obey; + First gett their good will, and be faithfull to mee, + And you shall enjoye your prettye Bessee. + + To every one this answer shee made, + Wherfore unto her they joyfullye sayd, + This thing to fulfill wee all doe agree; + But where dwells thy father, my prettye Bessee? + + My father, shee said, is soone to be seene: + The seely blind beggar of Bednall-greene, + That daylye sits begging for charitie, + He is the good father of pretty Bessee. + + His markes and his tokens are knowen very well; + He alwayes is led with a dogg and a bell: + A seely olde man, God knoweth, is hee, + Yett hee is the father of pretty Bessee. + + Nay then, quoth the merchant, thou art not for mee: + Nor, quoth the innholder, my wiffe thou shalt bee: + I lothe, sayd the gentle, a beggars degree, + And therefore, adewe, my pretty Bessee! + + Why then, quoth the knight, hap better or worse, + I waighe not true love by the waight of my pursse, + And bewtye is bewtye in every degree; + Then welcome unto me, my prettye Bessee. + + With thee to thy father forthwith I will goe. + Nay soft, quoth his kinsmen, it must not be soe; + A poor beggars daughter noe ladye shal bee, + Then take thy adew of pretty Bessee. + + But soone after this, by breake of the day, + The knight had from Rumford stole Bessy away. + The younge men of Rumford, as thicke might bee, + Rode after to feitch againe pretty Bessee. + + As swifte as the winde to ryde they were scene, + Untill they came neare unto Bednall-greene; + And as the knight lighted most courteouslee, + They all fought against him for pretty Bessee. + + But rescew came speedilye over the plaine, + Or else the young knight for his love had been slaine. + This fray being ended, then straitway he see + His kinsmen come rayling at pretty Bessee. + + Then spake the blind beggar, Although I bee poore, + Yett rayle not against my child at my own doore: + Though shee be not decked in velvett and pearle, + Yett will I dropp angells with you for my girle. + + And then, if my gold may better her birthe, + And equall the gold that you lay on the earth, + Then neyther rayle nor grudge you to see + The blind beggars daughter a lady to bee. + + But first you shall promise, and have it well knowne, + The gold that you drop shall all be your owne. + With that they replyed, Contented bee wee. + Then here's, quoth the beggar, for pretty Bessee. + + With that an angell he cast on the ground, + And dropped in angels full three thousand pound; + And oftentime itt was proved most plaine, + For the gentlemens one the beggar droppt twayne: + + Soe that the place, wherin they did sitt, + With gold it was covered every whitt. + The gentlemen then having dropt all their store, + Sayd, Now, beggar, hold, for wee have noe more. + + Thou hast fulfilled thy promise arright. + Then marry, quoth he, my girle to this knight; + And heere, added hee, I will now throwe you downe + A hundred pounds more to buy her a gowne. + + The gentlemen all, that this treasure had seene, + Admired the beggar of Bednall-greene: + And all those, that were her suitors before, + Their fleshe for very anger they tore. + + Thus was faire Besse matched to the knight, + And then made a ladye in others despite: + A fairer ladye there never was seene, + Than the blind beggars daughter of Bednall-greene. + + But of their sumptuous marriage and feast, + What brave lords and knights thither were prest, + The SECOND FITT shall set forth to your sight + With marveilous pleasure, and wished delight. + + + PART THE SECOND + + Off a blind beggars daughter most bright, + That late was betrothed unto a younge knight; + All the discourse therof you did see; + But now comes the wedding of pretty Bessee. + + Within a gorgeous palace most brave, + Adorned with all the cost they cold have, + This wedding was kept most sumptuouslee, + And all for the credit of pretty Bessee. + + All kind of dainties, and delicates sweete + Were bought for the banquet, as it was most meete; + Partridge, and plover, and venison most free, + Against the brave wedding of pretty Bessee. + + This marriage through England was spread by report, + Soe that a great number therto did resort + Of nobles and gentles in every degree; + And all for the fame of prettye Bessee. + + To church then went this gallant younge knight; + His bride followed after, an angell most bright, + With troopes of ladyes, the like nere was scene + As went with sweete Bessy of Bednall-greene. + + This marryage being solempnized then, + With musicke performed by the skilfullest men, + The nobles and gentles sate downe at that tyde, + Each one admiring the beautiful bryde. + + Now, after the sumptuous dinner was done, + To talke, and to reason a number begunn: + They talkt of the blind beggars daughter most bright, + And what with his daughter he gave to the knight. + + Then spake the nobles, "Much marveil have wee, + This jolly blind beggar wee cannot here see." + My lords, quoth the bride, my father's so base, + He is loth with his presence these states to disgrace. + + "The prayse of a woman in question to bringe + Before her own face, were a flattering thinge; + But wee thinke thy father's baseness," quoth they, + "Might by thy bewtye be cleane put awaye." + + They had noe sooner these pleasant words spoke, + But in comes the beggar cladd in a silke cloke; + A faire velvet capp, and a fether had hee, + And now a musicyan forsooth he wold bee. + + He had a daintye lute under his arme, + He touched the strings, which made such a charme, + Saies, Please you to heare any musicke of mee, + Ile sing you a song of pretty Bessee. + + With that his lute he twanged straightway, + And thereon begann most sweetlye to play; + And after that lessons were playd two or three, + He strayn'd out this song most delicatelee. + + "A poore beggars daughter did dwell on a greene, + Who for her fairenesse might well be a queene: + A blithe bonny lasse, and a daintye was shee, + And many one called her pretty Bessee. + + "Her father hee had noe goods, nor noe land, + But begged for a penny all day with his hand; + And yett to her marriage he gave thousands three, + And still he hath somewhat for pretty Bessee. + + "And if any one here her birth doe disdaine, + Her father is ready, with might and with maine, + To proove shee is come of noble degree: + Therfore never flout att prettye Bessee." + + With that the lords and the companye round + With harty laughter were readye to swound; + Att last said the lords, Full well wee may see, + The bride and the beggar's behoulden to thee. + + On this the bride all blushing did rise, + The pearlie dropps standing within her faire eyes, + O pardon my father, grave nobles, quoth shee, + That throughe blind affection thus doteth on mee. + + If this be thy father, the nobles did say, + Well may he be proud of this happy day; + Yett by his countenance well may wee see, + His birth and his fortune did never agree: + + And therefore, blind man, we pray thee bewray, + (and looke that the truth thou to us doe say) + Thy birth and thy parentage, whatt itt may bee; + For the love that thou bearest to pretty Bessee. + + "Then give me leave, nobles and gentles, each one, + One song more to sing, and then I have done; + And if that itt may not winn good report, + Then doe not give me a GROAT for my sport. + + "Sir Simon de Montfort my subject shal bee; + Once chiefe of all the great barons was hee, + Yet fortune so cruelle this lorde did abase, + Now loste and forgotten are hee and his race. + + "When the barons in armes did King Henrye oppose, + Sir Simon de Montfort their leader they chose; + A leader of courage undaunted was hee, + And oft-times he made their enemyes flee. + + "At length in the battle on Eveshame plaine + The barons were routed, and Montford was slaine; + Moste fatall that battel did prove unto thee, + Thoughe thou wast not borne then, my prettye Bessee! + + "Along with the nobles, that fell at that tyde, + His eldest son Henrye, who fought by his side, + Was fellde by a blowe, he receivde in the fight! + A blowe that deprivde him for ever of sight. + + "Among the dead bodyes all lifeless he laye, + Till evening drewe on of the following daye, + When by a yong ladye discovered was hee; + And this was thy mother, my prettye Bessee! + + "A barons faire daughter stept forth in the nighte + To search for her father, who fell in the fight, + And seeing young Montfort, where gasping he laye, + Was moved with pitye, and brought him awaye. + + "In secrette she nurst him, and swaged his paine, + While he throughe the realme was beleeved to be slaine + At lengthe his faire bride she consented to bee, + And made him glad father of prettye Bessee. + + "And nowe lest oure foes our lives sholde betraye, + We clothed ourselves in beggars arraye; + Her jewelles shee solde, and hither came wee: + All our comfort and care was our prettye Bessee. + + "And here have we lived in fortunes despite, + Thoughe poore, yet contented with humble delighte: + Full forty winters thus have I beene + A silly blind beggar of Bednall-greene. + + "And here, noble lordes, is ended the song + Of one, that once to your own ranke did belong: + And thus have you learned a secrette from mee, + That ne'er had been knowne, but for prettye Bessee." + + Now when the faire companye everye one, + Had heard the strange tale in the song he had showne, + They all were amazed, as well they might bee, + Both at the blinde beggar, and pretty Bessee. + + With that the faire bride they all did embrace, + Saying, Sure thou art come of an honourable race, + Thy father likewise is of noble degree, + And thou art well worthy a lady to bee. + + Thus was the feast ended with joye and delighte, + A bridegroome most happy then was the younge knighte, + In joy and felicitie long lived hee, + All with his faire ladye, the pretty Bessee. + + +[Illustration: The Blind Beggar's Daughter of Bednall Green tailpiece] + + + + +THOMAS THE RHYMER + +[Illustration: Thomas the Rhymer headpiece] + +[Illustration: Thomas the Rhymer] + + Thomas lay on the Huntlie bank, + A spying ferlies wi his eee, + And he did spy a lady gay, + Come riding down by the lang lee. + + Her steed was o the dapple grey, + And at its mane there hung bells nine; + He thought he heard that lady say, + "They gowden bells sall a' be thine." + + Her mantle was o velvet green, + And a' set round wi jewels fine; + Her hawk and hounds were at her side, + And her bugle-horn wi gowd did shine. + + Thomas took aff baith cloak and cap, + For to salute this gay lady: + "O save ye, save ye, fair Queen o Heavn, + And ay weel met ye save and see!" + + "I'm no the Queen o Heavn, Thomas; + I never carried my head sae hee; + For I am but a lady gay, + Come out to hunt in my follee. + + "Now gin ye kiss my mouth, Thomas, + Ye mauna miss my fair bodee; + Then ye may een gang hame and tell + That ye've lain wi a gay ladee." + + "O gin I loe a lady fair, + Nae ill tales o her wad I tell, + And it's wi thee I fain wad gae, + Tho it were een to heavn or hell." + + "Then harp and carp, Thomas," she said, + "Then harp and carp alang wi me; + But it will be seven years and a day + Till ye win back to yere ain countrie." + + The lady rade, True Thomas ran, + Until they cam to a water wan; + O it was night, and nae delight, + And Thomas wade aboon the knee. + + It was dark night, and nae starn-light, + And on they waded lang days three, + And they heard the roaring o a flood, + And Thomas a waefou man was he. + + Then they rade on, and farther on, + Untill they came to a garden green; + To pu an apple he put up his hand, + For the lack o food he was like to tyne. + + "O haud yere hand, Thomas," she cried, + "And let that green flourishing be; + For it's the very fruit o hell, + Beguiles baith man and woman o yere countrie. + + "But look afore ye, True Thomas, + And I shall show ye ferlies three; + Yon is the gate leads to our land, + Where thou and I sae soon shall be. + + "And dinna ye see yon road, Thomas, + That lies out-owr yon lilly lee? + Weel is the man yon gate may gang, + For it leads him straight to the heavens hie. + + "But do you see yon road, Thomas, + That lies out-owr yon frosty fell? + Ill is the man yon gate may gang, + For it leads him straight to the pit o hell. + + "Now when ye come to our court, Thomas, + See that a weel-learned man ye be; + For they will ask ye, one and all, + But ye maun answer nane but me. + + "And when nae answer they obtain, + Then will they come and question me, + And I will answer them again + That I gat yere aith at the Eildon tree. + + * * * * * + + "Ilka seven years, Thomas, + We pay our teindings unto hell, + And ye're sae leesome and sae strang + That I fear, Thomas, it will be yeresell." + + + + +YOUNG BEICHAN + +[Illustration: Young Beichan headpiece] + +[Illustration: Young Beichan] + + In London city was Bicham born, + He longd strange countries for to see, + But he was taen by a savage Moor, + Who handld him right cruely. + + For thro his shoulder he put a bore, + An thro the bore has pitten a tree, + An he's gard him draw the carts o wine, + Where horse and oxen had wont to be. + + He's casten [him] in a dungeon deep, + Where he coud neither hear nor see; + He's shut him up in a prison strong, + An he's handld him right cruely. + + O this Moor he had but ae daughter, + I wot her name was Shusy Pye; + She's doen her to the prison-house, + And she's calld Young Bicham one word + + "O hae ye ony lands or rents, + Or citys in your ain country, + Coud free you out of prison strong, + An coud mantain a lady free?" + + "O London city is my own, + An other citys twa or three, + Coud loose me out o prison strong, + An coud mantain a lady free." + + O she has bribed her father's men + Wi meikle goud and white money, + She's gotten the key o the prison doors, + An she has set Young Bicham free. + + She's g'in him a loaf o good white bread, + But an a flask o Spanish wine, + An she bad him mind on the ladie's love + That sae kindly freed him out o pine. + + "Go set your foot on good ship-board, + An haste you back to your ain country, + An before that seven years has an end, + Come back again, love, and marry me." + + It was long or seven years had an end + She longd fu sair her love to see; + She's set her foot on good ship-board, + And turnd her back on her ain country. + + She's saild up, so has she doun, + Till she came to the other side; + She's landed at Young Bicham's gates, + An I hop this day she sal be his bride. + + "Is this Young Bicham's gates?" says she, + "Or is that noble prince within?" + "He's up the stairs wi his bonny bride, + An monny a lord and lady wi him." + + "O has he taen a bonny bride, + An has he clean forgotten me!" + An sighing said that gay lady, + I wish I were in my ain country! + + But she's pitten her han in her pocket, + An gin the porter guineas three; + Says, Take ye that, ye proud porter, + An bid the bridegroom speak to me. + + O whan the porter came up the stair, + He's fa'n low down upon his knee: + "Won up, won up, ye proud porter, + An what makes a' this courtesy?" + + "O I've been porter at your gates + This mair nor seven years an three, + But there is a lady at them now + The like of whom I never did see. + + "For on every finger she has a ring, + An on the mid-finger she has three, + An there's a meikle goud aboon her brow + As woud buy an earldome o lan to me." + + Then up it started Young Bicham, + An sware so loud by Our Lady, + "It can be nane but Shusy Pye, + That has come oer the sea to me." + + O quickly ran he down the stair, + O fifteen steps he has made but three; + He's tane his bonny love in his arms, + An a wot he kissd her tenderly. + + "O hae you tane a bonny bride? + An hae you quite forsaken me? + An hae ye quite forgotten her + That gae you life an liberty?" + + She's lookit oer her left shoulder + To hide the tears stood in her ee; + "Now fare thee well, Young Bicham," she says, + "I'll strive to think nae mair on thee." + + "Take back your daughter, madam," he says, + "An a double dowry I'll gi her wi; + For I maun marry my first true love, + That's done and suffered so much for me." + + He's take his bonny love by the ban, + And led her to yon fountain stane; + He's changd her name frae Shusy Pye, + An he's cald her his bonny love, Lady Jane. + + + + +BRAVE LORD WILLOUGHBEY + +[Illustration: Brave Lord Willoughbey headpiece] + + + The fifteenth day of July, + With glistering spear and shield, + A famous fight in Flanders + Was foughten in the field: + The most couragious officers + Were English captains three; + But the bravest man in battel + Was brave Lord Willoughbey. + + The next was Captain Norris, + A valiant man was hee: + The other Captain Turner, + From field would never flee. + With fifteen hundred fighting men, + Alas! there were no more, + They fought with fourteen thousand then, + Upon the bloody shore. + + Stand to it, noble pikemen, + And look you round about: + And shoot you right, you bow-men, + And we will keep them out: + You musquet and callever men, + Do you prove true to me, + I'le be the formost man in fight, + Says brave Lord Willoughbey. + + And then the bloody enemy + They fiercely did assail, + And fought it out most furiously, + Not doubting to prevail: + The wounded men on both sides fell + Most pitious for to see, + Yet nothing could the courage quell + Of brave Lord Willoughbey. + + For seven hours to all mens view + This fight endured sore, + Until our men so feeble grew + That they could fight no more; + And then upon dead horses + Full savourly they eat, + And drank the puddle water, + They could no better get. + + When they had fed so freely, + They kneeled on the ground, + And praised God devoutly + For the favour they had found; + And beating up their colours, + The fight they did renew, + And turning tow'rds the Spaniard, + A thousand more they slew. + + The sharp steel-pointed arrows, + And bullets thick did fly, + Then did our valiant soldiers + Charge on most furiously; + Which made the Spaniards waver, + They thought it best to flee, + They fear'd the stout behaviour + Of brave Lord Willoughbey. + + Then quoth the Spanish general, + Come let us march away, + I fear we shall be spoiled all + If here we longer stay; + For yonder comes Lord Willoughbey + With courage fierce and fell, + He will not give one inch of way + For all the devils in hell. + + And then the fearful enemy + Was quickly put to flight, + Our men persued couragiously, + And caught their forces quite; + But at last they gave a shout, + Which ecchoed through the sky, + God, and St. George for England! + The conquerors did cry. + + This news was brought to England + With all the speed might be, + And soon our gracious queen was told + Of this same victory. + O this is brave Lord Willoughbey, + My love that ever won, + Of all the lords of honour + 'Tis he great deeds hath done. + + To the souldiers that were maimed, + And wounded in the fray, + The queen allowed a pension + Of fifteen pence a day; + And from all costs and charges + She quit and set them free: + And this she did all for the sake + Of brave Lord Willoughbey. + + Then courage, noble Englishmen, + And never be dismaid; + If that we be but one to ten, + We will not be afraid + To fight with foraign enemies, + And set our nation free. + And thus I end the bloody bout + Of brave Lord Willoughbey. + + + + +THE SPANISH LADY'S LOVE + +[Illustration: The Spanish Lady's Love headpiece] + + + Will you hear a Spanish lady, + How shed wooed an English man? + Garments gay and rich as may be + Decked with jewels she had on. + Of a comely countenance and grace was she, + And by birth and parentage of high degree. + + As his prisoner there he kept her, + In his hands her life did lye! + Cupid's bands did tye them faster + By the liking of an eye. + In his courteous company was all her joy, + To favour him in any thing she was not coy. + + But at last there came commandment + For to set the ladies free, + With their jewels still adorned, + None to do them injury. + Then said this lady mild, Full woe is me; + O let me still sustain this kind captivity! + + Gallant captain, shew some pity + To a ladye in distresse; + Leave me not within this city, + For to dye in heavinesse: + Thou hast this present day my body free, + But my heart in prison still remains with thee. + + "How should'st thou, fair lady, love me, + Whom thou knowest thy country's foe? + Thy fair wordes make me suspect thee: + Serpents lie where flowers grow." + All the harme I wishe to thee, most courteous knight, + God grant the same upon my head may fully light. + + Blessed be the time and season, + That you came on Spanish ground; + If our foes you may be termed, + Gentle foes we have you found: + With our city, you have won our hearts eche one, + Then to your country bear away, that is your owne. + + "Rest you still, most gallant lady; + Rest you still, and weep no more; + Of fair lovers there is plenty, + Spain doth yield a wonderous store." + Spaniards fraught with jealousy we often find, + But Englishmen through all the world are counted kind. + + Leave me not unto a Spaniard, + You alone enjoy my heart: + I am lovely, young, and tender, + Love is likewise my desert: + Still to serve thee day and night my mind is prest; + The wife of every Englishman is counted blest. + + "It wold be a shame, fair lady, + For to bear a woman hence; + English soldiers never carry + Any such without offence." + I'll quickly change myself, if it be so, + And like a page He follow thee, where'er thou go. + + "I have neither gold nor silver + To maintain thee in this case, + And to travel is great charges, + As you know in every place." + My chains and jewels every one shal be thy own, + And eke five hundred pounds in gold that lies unknown. + + "On the seas are many dangers, + Many storms do there arise, + Which wil be to ladies dreadful, + And force tears from watery eyes." + Well in troth I shall endure extremity, + For I could find in heart to lose my life for thee. + + "Courteous ladye, leave this fancy, + Here comes all that breeds the strife; + I in England have already + A sweet woman to my wife: + I will not falsify my vow for gold nor gain, + Nor yet for all the fairest dames that live in Spain." + + O how happy is that woman + That enjoys so true a friend! + Many happy days God send her; + Of my suit I make an end: + On my knees I pardon crave for my offence, + Which did from love and true affection first commence. + + Commend me to thy lovely lady, + Bear to her this chain of gold; + And these bracelets for a token; + Grieving that I was so bold: + All my jewels in like sort take thou with thee, + For they are fitting for thy wife, but not for me. + + I will spend my days in prayer, + Love and all her laws defye; + In a nunnery will I shroud mee + Far from any companye: + But ere my prayers have an end, be sure of this, + To pray for thee and for thy love I will not miss. + + 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! + "The like fall ever to thy share, most fair ladie." + + + + +THE FRIAR OF ORDERS GRAY + +[Illustration: The Friar of Orders Gray headpiece] + + + It was a friar of orders gray + Walkt forth to tell his beades; + And he met with a lady faire, + Clad in a pilgrime's weedes. + + Now Christ thee save, thou reverend friar, + I pray thee tell to me, + If ever at yon holy shrine + My true love thou didst see. + + And how should I know your true love + From many another one? + O by his cockle hat, and staff, + And by his sandal shoone. + + But chiefly by his face and mien, + That were so fair to view; + His flaxen locks that sweetly curl'd, + And eyne of lovely blue. + + O lady, he is dead and gone! + Lady, he's dead and gone! + And at his head a green grass turfe, + And at his heels a stone. + + Within these holy cloysters long + He languisht, and he dyed, + Lamenting of a ladyes love, + And 'playning of her pride. + + Here bore him barefac'd on his bier + Six proper youths and tall, + And many a tear bedew'd his grave + Within yon kirk-yard wall. + + And art thou dead, thou gentle youth! + And art thou dead and gone! + And didst thou die for love of me! + Break, cruel heart of stone! + + O weep not, lady, weep not soe; + Some ghostly comfort seek: + Let not vain sorrow rive thy heart, + Ne teares bedew thy cheek. + + O do not, do not, holy friar, + My sorrow now reprove; + For I have lost the sweetest youth, + That e'er wan ladyes love. + + And nowe, alas! for thy sad losse, + I'll evermore weep and sigh; + For thee I only wisht to live, + For thee I wish to dye. + + Weep no more, lady, weep no more, + Thy sorrowe is in vaine: + For violets pluckt the sweetest showers + Will ne'er make grow againe. + + Our joys as winged dreams doe flye, + Why then should sorrow last? + Since grief but aggravates thy losse, + Grieve not for what is past. + + O say not soe, thou holy friar; + I pray thee, say not soe: + For since my true-love dyed for mee, + 'Tis meet my tears should flow. + + And will he ne'er come again? + Will he ne'er come again? + Ah! no, he is dead and laid in his grave, + For ever to remain. + + His cheek was redder than the rose; + The comliest youth was he! + But he is dead and laid in his grave: + Alas, and woe is me! + + Sigh no more, lady, sigh no more, + Men were deceivers ever: + One foot on sea and one on land, + To one thing constant never. + + Hadst thou been fond, he had been false, + And left thee sad and heavy; + For young men ever were fickle found, + Since summer trees were leafy. + + Now say not so, thou holy friar, + I pray thee say not soe; + My love he had the truest heart: + O he was ever true! + + And art thou dead, thou much-lov'd youth, + And didst thou dye for mee? + Then farewell home; for ever-more + A pilgrim I will bee. + + But first upon my true-loves grave + My weary limbs I'll lay, + And thrice I'll kiss the green-grass turf, + That wraps his breathless clay. + + Yet stay, fair lady; rest awhile + Beneath this cloyster wall: + See through the hawthorn blows the cold wind, + And drizzly rain doth fall. + + O stay me not, thou holy friar; + O stay me not, I pray; + No drizzly rain that falls on me, + Can wash my fault away. + + Yet stay, fair lady, turn again, + And dry those pearly tears; + For see beneath this gown of gray + Thy own true-love appears. + + Here forc'd by grief, and hopeless love, + These holy weeds I sought; + And here amid these lonely walls + To end my days I thought. + + But haply for my year of grace + Is not yet past away, + Might I still hope to win thy love, + No longer would I stay. + + Now farewell grief, and welcome joy + Once more unto my heart; + For since I have found thee, lovely youth, + We never more will part. + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Book of Ballads, Volume 2, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BOOK OF BALLADS, VOLUME 2 *** + +***** This file should be named 7532.txt or 7532.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/5/3/7532/ + +Produced by David Widger, Juliet Sutherland, Phil McLaury, +Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading +Team. 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