  I never heard the olde song of Percy and Duglas, that I found not my heart mooved more then with a trumpet: and yet is it sung but by some blinde crouder, with no rougher voyce, then rude stile; which being so evill apparelled in the dust and cobwebbes of that uncivill age, what would it worke, trymmed in the gorgeous eloquence of Pindar!—Sir Philip Sidney's Apologie for Poetrie, 1595. I. |
| Men-at-arms | 400 |
| Attendants on ditto, footmen, lackeys, and grooms | 1,200 |
| Infantry mounted | 2,000 |
| Attendants on ditto, boys to take care of horses, sutlers, &c. | 3,000 |
| 6,600 |
It has been supposed that the first part of this ballad down to verse 112 was originally of Scottish manufacture, for two reasons: 1st, because Hume, of Godscroft, refers to "a Scots song," which begins as this does; and 2nd, because haymaking has been over at least a month in England at Lammas, when Scotch husbandmen are still busy "winning their hay." This last reason, however, cannot be considered a very conclusive one, as the seasons must be much alike on the two sides of the Border. The second part is written from a thoroughly English stand-point. The two Scottish versions, viz. the one given by Scott in his Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, and the one in Herd's Collection, are very different from the English ballad.]
Whan husbonds wynn ther haye,
The dowghtye Dowglasse bowynd
In Ynglond to take a praye:
He bowynd hym over Sulway:
The grete wolde ever together ryde;
That race they may rue for aye.
And so dowyn by Rodelyffe cragge,10
Upon Grene 'Leyton' they lyghted dowyn,
Styrande
And haryed
They dyd owr Ynglyssh men grete wrange,
To battell that were not bowyn.
Of comforte that was not colde,
And sayd, We have brent Northomberlond,
We have all welth in holde.20
All the welth in the worlde have wee;
I rede
So styll and stalwurthlye.
The standards schone fulle bryght;
To the Newe Castelle the toke the waye,
And thether they cam fulle ryght.
I telle yow withowtten drede;30
He had byn a march-man
And kepte Barwyke upon Twede.
The Skottes they cryde on hyght,
Syr Harye Percy, and thow byste
Com to the fylde, and fyght:
Thy eritage good and ryght;
And syne my logeyng I have take,
With my brande dubbyd many a knyght.40
The Skottyssh oste for to se;
"And thow hast brente Northomberlond,
Full sore it rewyth
Thow hast done me grete envye;
For the trespasse thow hast me done,
The tone
Or where wylte thow come to me?50
"At Otterborne in the hygh way,
Ther maist thow well logeed be.
To make the game and glee:
The fawkon and the fesaunt
Amonge the holtes on 'hee.'
Well looged ther maist be.
Yt schall not be long, or I com the tyll,"
Sayd Syr Harry Percye.60
By the fayth of my bodye.
Thether schall I com, sayd Syr Harry Percy;
My trowth I plyght to the.
For soth, as I yow saye:
Ther he mayd the Douglas drynke,
And all hys oste that daye.
For soth
He tooke his logeyng at Oterborne
Uppon a Wedyns-day:
Hys gettyng
And syne
To chose ther geldyngs gresse.
A wache
So was he ware
In the dawnynge of the daye.80
As faste as he myght ronne,
Awaken, Dowglas, cryed the knyght,
For hys love, that syttes yn trone.
For thow maiste waken wyth wynne:
Yender have I spyed the prowde Percy,
And seven standardes wyth hym.
It ys but a fayned taylle:90
He durste not loke on my bred
For all Ynglonde so haylle.
That stonds so fayre on Tyne?
For all the men the Percy hade,95
He cowde not garre
To loke and it were lesse;
Arraye yow, lordyngs, one and all,
For here bygynnes no peysse.
The forwarde
The yerlle of Huntlay cawte
He schall wyth the be.
On the other hand he schall be:
Lorde Jhonstone, and lorde Maxwell,
They to schall be with me.
To batell make yow bowen:
Syr Davy Scotte, Syr Walter Stewarde,
Syr Jhon of Agurstone.
A FYTTE.
Wych was ever a gentyll knyght,
Upon the Dowglas lowde can he crye,
I wyll holde that I have hyght:
And done me grete envye;
For thys trespasse thou hast me done,
The tone of us schall dye.
With grete wurds up on 'hee,'
And sayd, I have twenty agaynst 'thy' one,
Byholde and thow maiste see.
For sothe as I yow saye:
[
And schoote
That ryall
Every man schoote hys horsse him froo,
And lyght hym rowynde abowght.20
For soth, as I yow saye:
Jesu Cryste in hevyn on hyght
Dyd helpe hym well that daye.
The cronykle wyll not layne:
Forty thowsande Skottes and fowre
That day fowght them agayne.
In hast ther came a knyght,30
'Then' letters fayre furth hath he tayne
Wyth many a noble knyght;
He desyres yow to byde
That he may see thys fyght.
Wyth hym a noble companye;
All they loge at your fathers thys nyght,
And the Battel fayne wold they see.40
That dyed for yow and me,
Wende to my lorde my Father agayne,
And saye thow saw me not with yee:
It nedes me not to layne,
That I schulde byde hym upon thys bent,
And I have hys trowth agayne:
For soth unfoughten awaye,50
He wolde me call but a kowarde knyght
In hys londe another daye.
By Mary that mykel maye;
Then ever my manhod schulde be reprovyd55
Wyth a Skotte another daye.
And let scharpe arowes flee:
Mynstrells, playe up for your waryson,
And well quyt it schall be.60
And marke hym to the Trenite:
For to God I make myne avowe
Thys day wyll I not fle.
Hys standerde stode on hye;
That every man myght full well knowe:
By syde stode Starres thre.
Forsoth as I yow sayne;
The Lucetts and the Cressawnts both:
The Skotts faught them agayne.
And thrysse they schowte on hyght,
And syne marked them one owr Ynglysshe men,75
As I have tolde yow ryght.
To name they
Owr Ynglysshe men they cryde on hyght,
And thrysse the schowtte agayne.80
I tell yow in sertayne;
Men of armes byganne to joyne;
Many a dowghty man was ther slayne.
That ether of other was fayne;
They schapped
With swords of fyne Collayne;
As the roke
Yelde the to me, sayd the DowglÀs,
Or ells thow schalt be slayne:
Thow arte sum man of myght;
And so I do by thy burnysshed brande,
Thow art an yerle, or ells a knyght.
Now haste thou rede
Yet wyll I never yelde me to the,
Whyll I may stonde and fyght.100
Wyth swordes scharpe and long;
Ych on other so faste they beette,
Tyll ther helmes cam in peyses dowyn.
I tell yow in thys stounde,
He smote the Dowglas at the swordes length,
That he felle to the growynde.
I tell yow in sertayne;110
To the harte, he cowde hym smyte,
Thus was the Dowglas slayne.
With many a grevous grone;
Ther the fowght the day, and all the nyght,115
And many a dowghty man was 'slone.'
But styffly in stowre
Ychone
Wyth many a bayllefull bronde.120
For soth and sertenly,
Syr James a Dowglas ther was slayne,
That daye that he cowde dye.
Grysely
Syr Davy Scotte, Syr Walter Steward,
Syr 'John' of Agurstonne.
That never a fote wold flye;130
Sir Hughe Maxwell, a lorde he was,
With the Dowglas dyd he dye.
For soth
Of fowre and forty thowsande Scotts135
Went but eyghtene awaye.
For soth and sertenlye,
A gentell knyght, Sir John Fitz-hughe,
Yt was the more petye.140
For hym ther hartes were sore,
The gentyll 'Lovelle' ther was slayne,
That the Percyes standerd bore.
For soth as I yow saye;
Of nyne thowsand Ynglyssh men
Fyve hondert cam awaye:
Cryste kepe ther sowles from wo,150
Seyng ther was so fewe fryndes
Agaynst so many a foo.
Of byrch, and haysell graye;
Many a wydowe with wepyng teyres155
Ther makes
Bytwene the nyghte and the day:
Ther the Dowglas lost hys lyfe,
And the Percy was lede awaye.
Syr Hughe Mongomery was hys name,
For soth as I yow saye,
To Jesu most of myght,
To bryng hys sowle to the blysse of heven,
For he was a gentyll knyght.
? Most of the names in the two preceding ballads are found to have belonged to families of distinction in the North, as may be made appear from authentic records. Thus in
THE ANCIENT BALLAD OF CHEVY CHASE.
[Second Fit, ver. 112. Agerstone.] The family of Haggerston of Haggerston, near Berwick, has been seated there for many centuries, and still remains. Thomas Haggerston was among the commissioners returned for Northumberland in 12 Hen. 6, 1433. (Fuller's Worthies, p. 310.) The head of this family at present is Sir Thomas Haggerston, Bart., of Haggerston above-mentioned.
N.B. The name is spelt Agerstone, as in the text, in Leland's Itinerary, vol. vii. p. 54.
[Ver. 113. Hartly.] Hartley is a village near the sea in the barony of Tinemouth, about 7 m. from North-Shields. It probably gave name to a family of note at that time.
[Ver. 114. Hearone.] This family, one of the most ancient, was long of great consideration in Northumberland. Haddeston, the Caput BaroniÆ of Heron, was their ancient residence. It descended
[Ver. 115. Lovele.] Joh. de Lavale, miles, was sheriff of Northumberland 34 Hen. VIII. Joh. de Lavele, mil. in the 1 Edw. VI. and afterwards. (Fuller, 313.) In Nicholson this name is spelt Da Lovel, p. 304. This seems to be the ancient family of Delaval, of Seaton Delaval, in Northumberland, whose ancestor was one of the 25 Barons appointed to be guardians of Magna Charta.
[Ver. 117. RugbÈ.] The ancient family of Rokeby, in Yorkshire, seems to be here intended. In Thoresby's Ducat. Leod., p. 253, fol., is a genealogy of this house, by which it appears that the head of the family, about the time when this ballad was written, was Sir Ralph Rokeby, Knt., Ralph being a common name of the Rokebys.
[Ver. 119. Wetharrington.] Rog. de Widrington was sheriff of Northumberland in 36 of Edw. III. (Fuller, p. 311.)—Joh. de Widrington in 11 of Hen. IV. and many others of the same name afterwards.—See also Nicholson, p. 331.—Of this family was the late Lord Witherington.
[Ver. 124. Mongonberry.] Sir Hugh Montgomery was son of John Lord Montgomery, the lineal ancestor of the present Earl of Eglington.
[Ver. 125. Lwdale.] The ancient family of the Liddels were originally from Scotland, where they were lords of Liddel Castle, and of the Barony of Buff. (Vid. Collins's Peerage.) The head of this family is the present Lord Ravensworth, of Ravensworth Castle, in the county of Durham.
IN THE BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE.
[Ver. 101. Mentaye.] At the time of this battle the Earldom of Menteith was possessed by Robert Stewart, Earl of Fife, third son of K. Robert II., who, according to Buchanan, commanded the Scots that entered by Carlisle. But our minstrel had probably an eye to the family of Graham, who had this earldom when the ballad was written. See Douglas's Peerage of Scotland, 1764, fol.
[Ver. 103. Huntleye.] This shews this ballad was not composed before 1449; for in that year Alexander Lord of Gordon and Huntley, was created Earl of Huntley, by K. James II.
[Ver. 105. Bowghan.] The Earl of Buchan at that time was Alexander Stewart, fourth son of K. Robert II.
[Ver. 107. Jhonstone—Maxwell.] These two families of Johnstone Lord of Johnston, and Maxwell Lord of Maxwell, were always very powerful on the borders. Of the former family was Johnston Marquis of Annandale: of the latter was Maxwell Earl of Nithsdale. I cannot find that any chief of this family was named Sir Hugh; but Sir Herbert Maxwell was about this time much distinguished. (See Doug.) This might have been originally written Sir H. Maxwell, and by transcribers converted into Sir Hugh. So above, in No. I. v. 90. Richard is contracted into Ric.
[Ver. 109. Swintone.] i. e. The Laird of Swintone; a small village within the Scottish border, 3 miles from Norham. This family still subsists, and is very ancient.
[Ver. 111. Scotte.] The illustrious family of Scot, ancestors of the Duke of Buccleugh, always made a great figure on the borders. Sir Walter Scot was at the head of this family when the battle was fought; but his great-grandson, Sir David Scot, was the hero of that house when the ballad was written.
[Ibid. Stewarde.] The person here designed was probably Sir Walter Stewart, Lord of Dalswinton and Gairlies, who was eminent at that time. (See Doug.) From him is descended the present Earl of Galloway.
[Ver. 112. Agurstonne.] The seat of this family was sometimes subject to the kings of Scotland. Thus Richardus Haggerstoun, miles, is one of the Scottish knights who signed a treaty with the English in 1249, temp. Hen. III. (Nicholson, p. 2, note).—It was the fate of many parts of Northumberland often to change their masters, according as the Scottish or English arms prevailed.
[Ver. 129. Murrey.] The person here meant was probably Sir Charles Murray of Cockpoole, who flourished at that time, and was ancestor of the Murrays sometime Earls of Annandale. See Doug. Peerage.
[Ver. 139. Fitz-hughe.] Dugdale (in his Baron. v. i. p. 403) informs us that John, son of Henry Lord Fitzhugh, was killed at the battle of Otterbourne. This was a Northumberland family. Vid. Dugd. p. 403, col. 1, and Nicholson, pp. 33, 60.
[Ver. 141. Harbotle.] Harbottle is a village upon the river Coquet, about 10 m. west of Rothbury. The family of Harbottle was once considerable in Northumberland. (See Fuller, pp. 312, 313.) A daughter of Guischard Harbottle, Esq., married Sir Thomas Percy, Knt., son of Henry the fifth,—and father of Thomas seventh, Earls of Northumberland.
Both the MSS. read here, "Sir James," but see above, Pt. I., ver. 112.
"Syr Hewe Mongomery takyn prizonar, was delyvered for the restorynge of Perssy."
III.
THE JEW'S DAUGHTER,
A Scottish Ballad,
Is founded upon the supposed practice of the Jews in crucifying or otherwise murdering Christian children, out of hatred to the religion of their parents: a practice which has been always alledged in excuse for the cruelties exercised upon that wretched people, but which probably never happened in a single instance. For, if we consider, on the one hand, the ignorance and superstition of the times when such stories took their rise, the virulent prejudices of the monks who record them, and the eagerness with which they would be catched up by the barbarous populace as a pretence for plunder; on the other hand, the great danger incurred by the perpetrators, and the inadequate motives they could have to excite them to a crime of so much horror; we may reasonably conclude the whole charge to be groundless and malicious.
The following ballad is probably built upon some Italian legend, and bears a great resemblance to the Prioresse's Tale in Chaucer: the poet seems also to have had an eye to the known story of Hugh of Lincoln, a child said to have been there murdered by the Jews in the reign of Henry III. The conclusion of this ballad appears to be wanting: what it probably contained may be seen
Printed from a MS. copy sent from Scotland.
[This ballad, which is also known under the title of Sir Hugh of Lincoln, was at one time so widely popular that it is preserved in six different versions, besides fragments, and has originated a literature of its own. Mons. Francisque Michel discovered a Norman-French version in the Royal Library at Paris, which is supposed to date back to the period when the murder of Sir Hugh was to have been committed. This was first published in the year 1834 under the title, "Hugues de Lincoln: Recueil de Ballades Anglo-Normande et Ecossoises relatives au meurtre de cet enfant commis par les Juifs en MCCLV." The Rev. Dr. A. Hume communicated a very full paper on the subject of the tradition to the Literary and Philosophical Society of Liverpool, on November 13, 1848, which is published in the Proceedings (No. 5), and Mr. J. O. Halliwell printed, in 1849, a small volume containing "Ballads and Poems respecting Hugh of Lincoln." In the AthenÆum for Dec. 15, 1849, there is a condemnatory review of Dr. Hume's work, to which the reviewer has added some valuable information of his own. Percy's remark that Mirry-land town is a corruption of Milan town, and Pa of the river Po, seems far-fetched, as there is no reason for supposing that the ballad was in any way connected with Italy. Jamieson's version reads Merry Lincoln, and in Motherwell's the scene is changed to Maitland town. In some parts of England the ballad has degenerated into a sort of nursery rhyme, the Northamptonshire version reading "Merry Scotland," and the Shropshire one, "Merry-cock land." Mr. J. H. Dixon suggests mere-land town, from the mere or fen lakes, and reads wa' for Pa'. (Notes and Queries, 3rd Series, vol. ix. p. 30, note.)
Miss Agnes Strickland communicated the following lines obtained from oral tradition at Godalming, in Surrey, to Mr. Halliwell, who printed them in his tract:—
He toss'd the ball so low;
He toss'd the ball in the Jew's garden,
And the Jews were all below.
She was dressÈd all in green:
'Come hither, come hither, my sweet pretty fellow,
And fetch your ball again.'"
The tradition upon which this ballad is founded—that the Jews use human blood in their preparation for the Passover, and are in the habit of kidnapping and butchering Christian children for the purpose—is very widely spread and of great antiquity. Eisenmenger
St. William's fame, however, was eclipsed in other parts of England by that of Sir Hugh of Lincoln, whose death was celebrated by historians and poets. Henry III. being often in want of money, was glad to take any opportunity of extorting it from the unfortunate Jews, and in 1255 his exchequer particularly required replenishing on account of the expected arrival in England of his son Edward's newly married wife, Eleanor of Castile. In this year a young boy was murdered, and, opportunely for the king, the crime was charged to the Jews. It was asserted that the child had been stolen, fattened on bread and milk for ten days, and crucified with all the cruelties and insults of Christ's passion, in the presence of all the Jews in England, who had been summoned to Lincoln for the purpose. The supposed criminals were brought to justice, and the king's commission for the trial, and the warrant to sell the goods of the several Jews who were found guilty, are still preserved. The Jew into whose house the child had gone to play, tempted by the promise of his life, made a full confession, and threw the guilt upon his brethren. Ninety-one Jews of Lin
The whole proceedings in the case of Sir Hugh are chronicled by Matthew Paris, who was in high favour with Henry III., and from his pages the account is transferred to the Chronicles of Grafton, Fabyan, and Holinshed. Chaucer most probably consulted the same source when he included the story in his Canterbury Tales, although he shifts the scene to Asia, and makes his Prioress say, when ending her tale with a reference to Sir Hugh:—
With cursed Jewes (as it is notable,
For it nys but a litel while ago)."
Tyrwhitt, in his edition of Chaucer, notes that he found in the first four months of the Acta Sanctorum of Bollandus the names of five children canonized as having been murdered by the Jews, and he supposes that the remaining eight months would furnish at least as many more. Tyrwhitt accepts Percy's interpretation of Mirry-land as a corruption of the name of Milan, and under this erroneous impression he suggests that the real occasion of the ballad may have been the murder of the boy Simon, at Trent, in 1475.
The superstition upon which all these stories are founded is said still to prevail among the ignorant members of the Greek Church, and it was revived at Damascus in 1840 in consequence of the disappearance of a priest named Thomaso. Two or three Jews were put to death before a proper judicial examination could be made, and the popular fury was so excited that severe persecution extended through a large part of the Turkish empire. Sir Moses Montefiore visited the various localities with the object of obtaining redress for his people, and he was successful. On November 6, 1840, a firman for the protection of the Jews was given at Constantinople, which contained the following passage:—"An ancient prejudice prevailed against the Jews. The ignorant believed that the Jews were accustomed to sacrifice a human being, to make use of his blood at the Passover. In consequence of this opinion the Jews of Damascus and Rhodes, who are subjects of our empire, have been persecuted by other nations.... But a short time has elapsed since some Jews dwelling in the isle of Rhodes were brought from thence to Constantinople, where they had been tried and judged according to the new regulations, and their innocence of the accusations made against them fully proved." The calumny, however, was again raised in October, 1847, and the Jews were in imminent peril when the missing boy, who had been staying at Baalbec, reappeared in good health.
Within the last few years the Greek Patriarch at Constantinople has issued a pastoral letter, in which he points out the wickedness of the Christian persecution of the Jews. He says: "Superstition is a detestable thing. Almost all the Christian nations of the East have taken up the extravagant idea that the Israelites enjoy shedding Christian blood, either to obtain thereby a blessing from heaven, or to gratify their national rancour against Christ. Hence conflicts and disturbances break out, by which the social harmony between the dwellers in the same land, yea, the same fatherland, is disturbed. Thus a report was lately spread of the abduction of little Christian children in order to give a pretext for suspicion. We on our side abhor such lying fancies; we regard them as the superstitions of men of weak faith and narrow minds; and we disavow them officially."
The superstition, however, still lives on, and according to the Levant Herald (1874), the Mahometans are beginning to fall into the delusion that the sacrificial knife is applied by the Jews to young Turks as well as to young Christians.]
Sae dois it doune the Pa:
Sae dois the lads of Mirry-land toune,
Quhan they play at the ba'.
Said, Will ye cum in and dine?
"I winnae cum in, I cannae cum in,
Without my play-feres
To intice the yong thing in:10
Scho powd an apple white and reid,
And that the sweit bairne did win.
And low down by her gair,
Scho has twin'd
A word he nevir spak mair.
And out and cam the thin;
And out and cam the bonny herts bluid:
Thair was nae life left in.20
And drest him like a swine,
And laughing said, Gae nou and pley
With your sweit play-feres nine.
Bade him lie stil and sleip.
Scho cast him in a deip draw-well,
Was fifty fadom deip.
And every lady went hame:30
Than ilka lady had her yong sonne,
Bot lady Helen had nane.
And sair sair gan she weip:
And she ran into the Jewis castÈl,35
Quhan they wer all asleip.
I pray thee to me speik.
"O lady, rinn to the deip draw-well,
Gin
And knelt upon her kne:
My bonny sir Hew, an
I pray thee speik to me.
The well is wondrous deip,
A keen pen-knife sticks in my hert,
A word I dounae
Fetch me my windling sheet,50
And at the back o' Mirry-land toun,
Its thair we twa fall meet."
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES:
Friar Barnardine. A thing that makes me tremble to unfold.
Jac. What, has he crucified a child?
Bar. No, but a worse thing; 'twas told me in shrift;
Thou know'st 'tis death, an if it be reveal'd."
Dyce in his note quotes from Reed a reference to Tovey's Anglio Judaica, where instances of such crucifixion are given.
IV.
SIR CAULINE.
This old romantic tale was preserved in the Editor's folio MS. but in so very defective and mutilated a condition (not from any chasm in the MS. but from great omission in the transcript, probably copied from the faulty recitation of some illiterate minstrell), and the whole appeared so far short of the perfection it seemed to deserve, that the Editor was tempted to add several stanzas in the first part, and still more in the second, to connect and compleat the story in the manner which appeared to him most interesting and affecting.
There is something peculiar in the metre of this old ballad: it is not unusual to meet with redundant stanzas of six lines; but the occasional insertion of a double third or fourth line, as ver. 31, &c. is an irregularity I do not remember to have seen elsewhere.
It may be proper to inform the reader before he comes to Pt. ii. v. 110, 111, that the Round Table was not peculiar to the reign of K. Arthur, but was common in all the ages of chivalry. The proclaiming a great turnament (probably with some peculiar solemnities) was called "holding a Round Table." Dugdale tells us, that the great baron Roger de Mortimer "having procured the honour of knighthood to be conferred 'on his three sons' by K. Edw. I. he, at his own costs, caused a tourneament to be held at Kenilworth; where he sumptuously entertained an hundred knights, and as many ladies, for three days; the like whereof was never before in England; and there began the Round Table, (so called by reason that the place wherein they practised those feats was environed with a strong wall made in a round form:) And upon the fourth day, the golden lion, in sign of triumph, being yielded to him; he carried it (with all the company) to Warwick."—It may further be added, that Matthew Paris frequently calls justs and turnaments Hastiludia MensÆ RotundÆ.
As to what will be observed in this ballad of the art of healing being practised by a young princess; it is no more than what is usual in all the old romances, and was conformable to real manners: it being a practice derived from the earliest times among all the Gothic and Celtic nations, for women, even of the highest rank, to exercise the art of surgery. In the Northern Chronicles we always find the young damsels stanching the wounds of their
[This story of Sir Cauline furnishes one of the most flagrant instances of Percy's manipulation of his authorities. In the following poem all the verses which are due to Percy's invention are placed between brackets, but the whole has been so much altered by him that it has been found necessary to reprint the original from the folio MS. at the end in order that readers may compare the two. Percy put into his version several new incidents and altered the ending, by which means he was able to dilute the 201 lines of the MS. copy into 392 of his own. There was no necessity for this perversion of the original, because the story is there complete, and moreover Percy did not sufficiently indicate the great changes he had made, for although nearly every verse is altered he only noted one trivial difference of reading, viz. aukeward for backward (v. 109).
Motherwell reprinted this ballad in his Minstrelsy, and in his prefatory note he made the following shrewd guess, which we now know to be a correct one:—"We suspect too that the ancient ballad had a less melancholy catastrophe, and that the brave Syr Cauline, after his combat with the 'hend Soldan' derived as much benefit from the leechcraft of fair Cristabelle as he did after winning the Eldridge sword." Professor Child has expressed the same view in his note to the ballad.
Buchan printed a ballad entitled King Malcolm and Sir Colvin, which is more like the original than Percy's version, but Mr. Hales is of opinion that this was one of that collector's fabrications.]
THE FIRST PART.
There dwelleth a bonnye kinge;
And with him a yong and comlye knighte,
Men call him syr CaulÌne.
In fashyon she hath no peere;
And princely wightes that ladye wooed
To be theyr wedded feere.
But nothing durst he saye;10
Ne descreeve
But deerlye he lovde this may.
Great dill
The maydens love removde his mynd,15
To care-bed went the knighte.
One while he spred them nye:
And aye! but I winne that ladyes love,
For dole
Our kinge was bowne
He sayes, Where is syr Cauline,
That is wont to serve the wyne?
And fast his handes gan wringe:
Sir Cauline is sicke, and like to dye
Without a good leechÌnge.
She is a leeche fulle fine:30
Goe take him doughe,
And serve him with the wyne soe red;
Her maydens followyng nye:35
O well, she sayth, how doth my lord?
O sicke, thou fayr ladyÈ.
Never lye soe cowardlee;
For it is told in my fathers halle,40
You dye for love of mee.
That all this dill I drye:
For if you wold comfort me with a kisse,
Then were I brought from bale to blisse,45
No lenger wold I lye.
I am his onlye heire;
Alas! and well you knowe, syr knighte,
I never can be youre fere.50
And I am not thy peere,
But let me doe some deedes of armes
To be your bacheleere.
My bacheleere to bee,
(But ever and aye my heart wold rue,
Giff
Upon the mores brodinge;
And dare ye, syr knighte, wake there all nighte
Will examine you beforne:
And never man bare life awaye,65
But he did him scath
And large of limb and bone;
And but if heaven may be thy speede,
Thy life it is but gone.70
For thy sake, fair ladÌe;]
And He either bring you a ready tokÈn,
Or He never more you see
Her maydens following bright:
[Syr Cauline lope
And to the Eldridge hills is gone,]
For to wake there all night.
He walked up and downe;
Then a lightsome bugle heard he blowe
Over the bents
Quoth hee, If cryance come till
I am ffar from any good towne.85
A furyous wight and fell;
A ladye bright his brydle led,
Clad in a fayre kyrtÈll:
And soe fast he called on syr CaulÌne,90
For 'but' if cryance comes till thy heart,
I weene but thou mun dye.
Nor, in faith, I wyll not flee;95
For, cause thou minged
The less me dreadeth thee.
Syr Cauline bold abode:
Then either shooke his trustye speare,]100
And the timber these two children
Soe soone in sunder slode.
And layden
[Till helme and hawberke, mail and sheelde,105
They all were well-nye brast.
And stiffe in stower
But syr Cauline with a 'backward' stroke,
He smote off his right hand;110
That soone he with paine and lacke of bloud
Fell downe on that lay-land.
All over his head so hye:
And here I sweare by the holy roode,115
Nowe, caytiffe, thou shalt dye.
Fast wringing of her hande:
For the maydens love, that most you love,
Withold that deadlye brande:120
Now smyte no more I praye;
And aye whatever thou wilt, my lord,
He shall thy hests
And here on this lay-land,
That thou wilt believe on Christ his laye,
And therto plight thy hand:
To sporte, gamon,
And that thou here give up thy armes
Until thy dying daye.
With many a sorrowfulle sighe;
And sware to obey syr Caulines hest,135
Till the tyme that he shold dye.]
Sett him in his saddle anone,
And the Eldridge knighte and his ladye
To theyr castle are they gone.140
That was so large of bone,
And on it he founde five ringes of gold
Of knightes that had be slone.
As hard as any flint:
And he tooke off those ringÈs five,
As light as leafe on tree:150
I-wys he neither stint ne blanne,
Till he his ladye see.
Before that lady gay:
O ladye, I have bin on the Eldridge hills:155
These tokens I bring away.
Thrice welcome unto mee,
For now I perceive thou art a true knighte,
Of valour bolde and free.160
Thy hests for to obaye:
And mought I hope to winne thy love!—
Ne more his tonge colde say.
And fette
Alas! syr knight, how may this bee,
For my degree's soe highe?
To be my batchilere,170
Ile promise if thee I may not wedde
I will have none other fere.
Towards that knighte so free;
He gave to it one gentill kisse,175
His heart was brought from bale to blisse,
Ne let no man it knowe;
For and ever my father sholde it ken,180
I wot he wolde us sloe.
Lovde syr CaulÌne the knighte:
From that daye forthe he only joyde
Whan shee was in his sight.185
Within a fayre arbÒure,
Where they in love and sweet daliaunce
Past manye a pleasaunt houre.]
? In this conclusion of the First Part, and at the beginning of the Second, the reader will observe a resemblance to the story of Sigismunda and Guiscard, as told by Boccace and Dryden. See the latter's description of the lovers meeting in the cave; and those beautiful lines, which contain a reflection so like this of our poet, "everye white," &c., viz.:
And tides at highest mark regorge their flood;
So Fate, that could no more improve their joy,
Took a malicious pleasure to destroy
Tancred, who fondly loved," &c.
PART THE SECOND.
And everye sweete its sowre:
This founde the ladye Christabelle
In an untimely howre.
Was with that ladye faire,
The kinge her father walked forthe
To take the evenyng aire:
To rest his wearye feet,10
He found his daughter and syr CaulÌne
There sette in daliaunce sweet.
And an angrye man was hee:
Nowe, traytoure, thou shalt hange or drawe,15
And rewe shall thy ladÌe.
And throwne in dungeon deepe:
And the ladye into a towre so hye,
There left to wayle and weepe.20
And to the kinge sayd shee:
I praye you save syr Caulines life,
And let him banisht bee.
Across the salt sea fome:
But here I will make thee a band,
If ever he come within this land,
A foule deathe is his doome.
To parte from his ladyÈ;
And many a time he sighed sore,
And cast a wistfulle eye:
Faire Christabelle, from thee to parte,
Farre lever
Was had forthe of the towre;
But ever shee droopeth in her minde,
As nipt by an ungentle winde
Doth some faire lillye flowre.40
To tint
Syr Cauline, thou little think'st on mee,
But I will still be true.
And lorde of high degree,
Did sue to that fayre ladye of love;
But never shee wolde them nee.
Ne comforte she colde finde,50
The kynge proclaimed a tourneament,
To cheere his daughters mind:
Fro manye a farre countryÈ,
To break a spere for theyr ladyes love55
Before that faire ladyÈ.
In purple and in palle:
But faire Christabelle soe woe-begone
Was the fayrest of them all.60
Before his ladye gaye;
But a stranger wight, whom no man knewe,
He wan the prize eche daye.
His hewberke,
Ne noe man wist whence he did come,
Ne noe man knewe where he did gone,
When they came from the feelde.
In feates of chivalrye,
When lo upon the fourth mornÌnge
A sorrowfulle sight they see.
All foule of limbe and lere;
Two goggling eyen like fire farden,
A mouthe from eare to eare.
That waited on his knee,
And at his backe five heads he bare,80
All wan and pale of blee.
Behold that hend
Behold these heads I beare with me!
They are kings which he hath slain.85
Whom a knight of thine hath shent:
And hee is come to avenge his wrong,
And to thee, all thy knightes among,
Defiance here hath sent.90
Thy daughters love to winne:
And but thou yeelde him that fayre mayd,
Thy halls and towers must brenne.
Or else thy daughter deere;
Or else within these lists soe broad
Thou must finde him a peere.
And in his heart was woe:100
Is there never a knighte of my round tablÈ,
This matter will undergoe?
Will fight for my daughter and mee?
Whoever will fight yon grimme soldÀn,105
Right fair his meede shall bee.
And of my crowne be heyre;
And he shall winne fayre Christabelle
To be his wedded fere.110
Did stand both still and pale;
For whenever they lookt on the grim soldÀn,
It made their hearts to quail.
When she sawe no helpe was nye:
She cast her thought on her owne true-love,
And the teares gusht from her eye.
Sayd, Ladye, be not affrayd:120
Ile fight for thee with this grimme soldÀn,
Thoughe he be unmacklye
That lyeth within thy bowre,
I truste in Christe for to slay this fiende125
Thoughe he be stiff in stowre.
The kinge he cryde, with speede:
Nowe heaven assist thee, courteous knighte;
My daughter is thy meede.
And sayd, Awaye, awaye:
I sweare, as I am the hend soldÀn,
Thou lettest
In his blacke armoure dight:
The ladye sighed a gentle sighe,
"That this were my true knighte!"
Within the lists soe broad;140
And now with swordes soe sharpe of steele,
They gan to lay on load.
That made him reele asyde;
Then woe-begone was that fayre ladyÈ,145
And thrice she deeply sighde.
And made the bloude to flowe:
All pale and wan was that ladye fayre,
And thrice she wept for woe.150
Which brought the knighte on his knee:
Sad sorrow pierced that ladyes heart,
And she shriekt loud shriekings three.
All recklesse of the pain:
Quoth hee, But
Or else
And spying a secrette part,160
He drave it into the soldan's syde,
And pierced him to the heart.
Whan they sawe the soldan falle:
The ladye wept, and thanked Christ,165
That had reskewed her from thrall.
Rose uppe from offe his seate,
And downe he stepped intÒ the listes,
That curteous knighte to greete.170
Was fallen intÒ a swounde,
And there all walteringe in his gore,
Lay lifelesse on the grounde.
Thou art a leeche of skille;
Farre lever
Than this good knighte sholde spille.
To helpe him if she maye;180
But when she did his beavere raise,
It is my life, my lord, she sayes,
And shriekte and swound awaye.
When he heard his ladye crye,185
O ladye, I am thine owne true love;
He closed his eyes in death,
Ere Christabelle, that ladye milde,190
Begane to drawe her breathe.
Indeed was dead and gone,
She layde her pale cold cheeke to his,
And thus she made her moane.195
For mee thy faithfulle feere;
'Tis meet that I shold followe thee,
Who hast bought my love soe deare.
And with a deepe-fette
That burst her gentle hearte in twayne,
Fayre Christabelle did dye.]
?
[The following is the original ballad from which Percy concocted his own. It is reprinted from Bishop Percy's Folio MS., ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. iii. p. 1.
that dyed ffor vs on the roode
to maintaine vs in all our right,
that loues true English blood.
was bold & ffull hardye;
Sir Robert Briuse wold fforth to ffight
in-to Ireland ouer the sea;
which ouer all does beare the bell,10
& with him there dwelled a curteous Knight,
men call him Sir Cawline.
of ffashyon shee hath noe peere;
Knights & lordes they woed her both,15
trusted to haue beene her peere.
but nothing durst hee say
to discreeue his councell to noe man,
but deerlye loued this mayd.20
great dill to him was dight;
the maydens loue remoued his mind,
to care bed went the Knight;
& cryed soe pittyouslye
"ffor the maydens loue that I haue most minde,
this day may comfort mee,
or else ere noone I shalbe dead!"
thus can Sir Cawline say.30
& our king was bowne to dine,
he sayes, "where is Sir Cawline
that was wont to serue me with ale and wine?"
ffast wringinge his hands,
"Sir Cawlines sicke, & like to be dead
without and a good leedginge."
shee is a Leeche ffull ffine;40
I, and take you doe & the baken bread,
and eene on the wine soe red,
& looke no day[n]tinesse ffor him to deare,
for ffull loth I wold him teene."
her maydens ffollowing Nye,
"O well," shee sayth, "how doth my Lord?"
"O sicke!" againe saith hee.
neuer lye soe cowardlye here!50
itt is told in my ffathers hall,
ffor my loue you will dye."
that all this dill I drye.
ffor if you wold comfort me with a Kisse,55
then were I brought ffrom bale to blisse,
noe longer here wold I lye."
I cannott bee your peere."
"ffor some deeds of armes ffaine wold I doe60
to be your Bacheeleere."
vpon the mores brodinge;
& wold you, Sir Knight, wake there all night
to day of the other Morninge?65
will examine you beforne;
& there was neuer man that bare his liffe away
since the day that I was borne."
walke on the bents [soe] browne,
& Ile either bring you a readye token
or Ile neuer come to you againe."
her Maydens ffollowing bright;75
& Sir Cawlins gone to the mores soe broad,
ffor to wake there all night.
he walked vp and downe,
& a lightsome bugle then heard he blow80
ouer the bents soe browne.
saies hee, "and if cryance come vntill my hart,
I am ffarr ffrom any good towne;"
a ffuryous King and a ffell,85
& a ladye bright his brydle led,
that seemlye itt was to see;
"Oh man, I redd thee fflye!
ffor if cryance come vntill thy hart,90
I am a-feard least thou mun dye."
nor ifaith I ffeare not thee;
ffor because thou minged not christ before,
Thee lesse me dreadeth thee."95
the King was bold, and abode,
& the timber these 2 Children bore
soe soone in sunder slode,
ffor they tooke & 2 good swords,100
& they Layden on good Loade.
& stiffly to the ground did stand;
but Sir Cawline with an aukeward stroke
he brought him ffrom his hand,105
I, & fflying ouer his head soe hye,
ffell downe of that Lay land:
ffast ringing her hands:
"for they maydens loue that you haue most meed,110
smyte you my Lord no more,
him to sport, gamon, or play,
& to meete noe man of middle earth,
& that liues on christs his lay."115
sett him in his sadle againe,
& that Eldryge King & his Ladye
to their castle are they gone.
as hard as any fflynt,
& soe he did those ringes 5,
harder than ffyer, and brent.
they hand, & then they sword.125
"but a serrett buffett you haue him giuen,
the King & the crowne!" she sayd,
"I, but 34 stripes
comen beside the rood."
he lope now them amonge,
& vpon his squier 5 heads he bare,
vnmackley made was hee.
& hee put the cup in his sleeue;135
& all thÉ trembled & were wan
ffor feare he shold them greeffe.
"mine errand what I doe heere;
ffor I will bren thy temples hye,140
or Ile haue thy daughter deere;
in, or else vpon, yond more soe brood
thou shalt ffind mee a ppeare."
(Lord, in his heart he was woe!),145
says, "is there noe Knight of the round table
this matter will vndergoe?
& keepe them well his liue;
I, and soe hee shall my daughter deere,150
to be his weded wiffe."
his owne errand ffor to say.
"ifaith, I wold to god, Sir," sayd Sir Cawline,
"that Soldan I will assay.155
ffor I woone itt att [a] ffray."
"but away, away!" sayd the hend Soldan,
"thou tarryest mee here all day!"
thÉ ffought a summers day:
now has hee slaine that hend Soldan,
& brought his 5 heads away.
& all his venison.165
& brooke them well your liffe,
ffor you promised mee your daughter deere
to be my weded wiffe."
"ffor that wee will not striffe;
ffor thou shalt haue my daughter dere
to be thy weded wiffe."
by the dawning of the day,175
& vntill a garden did he goe
his Mattins ffor to say;
& that bespyed a ffalse steward—
a shames death that he might dye!—
Sir Cawline ffor to teare;
& he had noe wepon him vpon,
nor noe wepon did weare.
into the Lyons mouth itt thrust;185
he held the Lyon soe sore to the wall
till the Lyons hart did burst.
& sayd, "Sir Cawlines slaine!
and with a beast is not ffull litle,190
a Lyon of Mickle mayne."
then the Kings daughter shee ffell downe,
"for peerlesse is my payne!"
"I haue bought thy loue ffull deere.195
O peace, my Lady!" sayes Sir Cawline,
"peace, Lady, ffor I am heere!"
with gold & siluer bright,
& 15 sonnes this Ladye beere200
to Sir Cawline the Knight.
ffins.]
V.
EDWARD, EDWARD.
A Scottish Ballad.
From a MS. copy transmitted from Scotland.
[The affectedly antique orthography of this ballad has caused some to suppose that it was a modern invention, probably by Lady Wardlaw, the author of Hardyknute, but Motherwell obtained another version from the recitation of an old woman, which he printed in his Minstrelsy under the title of "Son Davie, son Davie." He there says that there is reason to believe that Lord Hailes "made a few slight verbal improvements in the copy he transmitted, and altered the hero's name to Edward, a name which, by the bye, never occurs in a Scottish ballad except where allusion is made to an English king."
There is a Swedish ballad of the same character entitled The Fratricide's Lament and Dialogue with his Mother before he wanders away from home for ever.
The form of a dialogue between a mother and her son is a favourite one in the old ballads, and "Lord Donald" in Kinloch's Scottish Ballads and "Lord Randal" in Scott's Minstrelsy bear some likeness to the ballad of "Edward." The hero is supposed to have been poisoned by eating toads prepared as a dish of fishes, and the last stanza of Kinloch's ballad is as follows:—
My son?
What will ye leave to your true love,
My jollie young man?
The tow and the halter for to hang on yon tree,
And lat her hang there for the poysoning o' me."]
Edward, Edward?
Quhy dois your brand sae drop wi' bluid?
And quhy sae sad gang yee, O?
O, I hae killed my hauke sae guid,5
Mither, mither:
O, I hae killed my hauke sae guid:
And I had nae mair bot hee,
Edward, Edward.10
Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid,
My deir son I tell thee, O.
O, I hae killed my reid-roan steid,
Mither, Mither:
O, I hae killed my reid-roan steid,15
That erst was sae fair and free, O.
Edward, Edward:
Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair,
Sum other dule ye drie,
O, I hae killed my fadir deir,
Mither, mither:
O, I hae killed my fadir deir,
Alas! and wae is me, O!
Edward, Edward?
And quhatten penance will ye drie for that?
My deir son, now tell me, O.
Ile set my feit in yonder boat,
Ile set my feit in yonder boat,
And Ile fare
Edward, Edward?
And quhat wul ye doe wi' your towirs and your ha',35
That were sae fair to see, O?
Ile let thame stand til they doun fa',
Mither, mither:
Ile let thame stand til they doun fa',
For here nevir mair maun I bee, O.40
Edward, Edward?
And quhat wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife,
Quhan ye gang ovir the sea, O?
The warldis room,
Mither, mither:
The warldis room, let thame beg throw life,
For thame nevir mair wul I see, O.
Edward, Edward?50
And quhat wul ye leive to your ain mither deir?
My deir son, now tell me, O.
The curse of hell frae me sall ye beir,
Mither, mither:
The curse of hell frae me sall ye beir,55
Sic counseils ye gave to me, O.
This curious song was transmitted to the editor by Sir David Dalrymple, Bart., late Lord Hailes.
FOOTNOTES:
VI.
KING ESTMERE.
This old Romantic Legend (which is given from two copies, one of them in the editor's folio MS., but which contained very great variations), bears marks of considerable antiquity, and, perhaps, ought to have taken place of any in this volume. It would seem to have been written while part of Spain was in the hands of the Saracens or Moors: whose empire there was not fully extinguished before the year 1491. The Mahometans are spoken of in v. 49, &c., just in the same terms as in all other old romances. The author of the ancient Legend of Sir Bevis represents his hero, upon all occasions, breathing out defiance against
and so full of zeal for his religion, as to return the following polite message to a Paynim king's fair daughter, who had fallen in love with him, and sent two Saracen knights to invite him to her bower,
To speake with an heathen hounde.
Unchristen houndes, I rede you fle.
Or I your harte bloud shall se."
Indeed they return the compliment by calling him elsewhere "A christen hounde."
This was conformable to the real manners of the barbarous ages: perhaps the same excuse will hardly serve our bard, for that Adland should be found lolling or leaning at his gate (v. 35) may be thought, perchance, a little out of character. And yet the great painter of manners, Homer, did not think it inconsistent with decorum to represent a king of the Taphians leaning at the gate of Ulysses to inquire for that monarch, when he touched at Ithaca as he was taking a voyage with a ship's cargo of iron to dispose in traffic.
Before I conclude this article, I cannot help observing, that the
Some liberties have been taken with this tale by the editor, but none without notice to the reader in that part which relates to the subject of the harper and his attendant.
[Percy refers to two copies of this ballad, but there is every reason to believe that one of these was the bishop's own composition, as it was never seen by others and has not since been found. The copy from the folio MS. was torn out by Percy when he was preparing the fourth edition of the Reliques for the press, and is now unfortunately lost, so that we have no means of telling what alterations he made in addition to those which he mentions in the footnotes. The readings in the fourth edition are changed in several places from those printed in the first edition.]
Come and you shall heare;
Ile tell you of two of the boldest brethren
That ever borne y-were.
The tother was kyng Estmere;
The were as bolde men in their deeds,
As any were farr and neare.
Within kyng Estmeres halle:
When will ye marry a wyfe, brothÈr,
A wyfe to glad us all?
And answered him hastilee:
I know not that ladye in any land15
That's able
Men call her bright and sheene;
If I were kyng here in your stead,
That ladye shold be my queene.20
Throughout merry EnglÀnd,
Where we might find a messenger
Betwixt us towe to sende.
Ile beare you companye;
Many throughe fals messengers are deceived,
And I feare lest soe shold wee.
Of twoe good renisht
And when the came to king Adlands halle,
Of redd gold shone their weeds.
Before the goodlye gate,
There they found good kyng AdlÀnd35
Rearing
Now Christ you save and see.
Sayd, You be welcome, king Estmere,
Right hartilye to mee.40
Men call her bright and sheene,
My brother wold marrye her to his wiffe,
Of Englande to be queene.
Syr Bremor the kyng of Spayne;
And then she nicked
And I doubt sheele
And 'leeveth
And pitye it were that fayre ladyÈ
Shold marrye a heathen hound.
For my love I you praye;
That I may see your daughter deere55
Before I goe hence awaye.
Since my daughter was in halle,
She shall come once downe for your sake
To glad my guestÈs alle.60
With ladyes laced in pall,
And halfe a hundred of bold knightes,
To bring her from bowre to hall;
And as many gentle squiers,65
To tend upon them all.
Hanged low downe to her knee;
And everye ring on her small fingÈr,
Shone of the chrystall free.70
Saies, God you save and see.
Said, You be welcome, kyng Estmere,
Right welcome unto mee.
Soe well and hartilÈe,
All that ever you are comen about
Soone sped now itt shal bee.
My daughter, I saye naye;80
Remember well the kyng of Spayne,
What he sayd yesterdaye.
And reave
I cannot blame him if he doe,85
If I reave him of his wyfe.
Are stronglye built aboute;
And therefore of the king of Spaine
Wee neede not stande in doubt.90
By heaven and your righte hand,
That you will marrye me to your wyfe,
And make me queene of your land.
By heaven and his righte hand,
That he wolde marrye her to his wyfe,
And make her queene of his land.
To goe to his owne countree,100
To fetche him dukes and lordes and knightes,
That marryed the might bee.
A myle forthe of the towne,
But in did come the kyng of Spayne,105
With kempÈs
With manye a bold barÒne,
Tone day to marrye kyng Adlands daughter,
Tother daye to carrye her home.110
In all the spede might bee,
That he must either turne againe and fighte,
Or goe home and loose his ladyÈ.
Another while he ranne;
Till he had oretaken king Estmere,
What tydinges nowe, my boye?120
O tydinges I can tell to you,
That will you sore annoye.
A mile out of the towne,
But in did come the kyng of Spayne125
With kempÈs many a one:
With manye a bold barÒne,
Tone daye to marrye king Adlands daughter,
Tother daye to carry her home.130
And ever-more well by mee:
You must either turne againe and fighte,
Or goe home and loose your ladyÈ.
My reade shall ryde
Whether it is better to turne and fighte,
Or goe home and loose my ladye.
And your reade must rise
I quicklye will devise a waye
To sette thy ladye free.
And learned in gramaryÈ.
And when I learned at the schole,145
And iff it were but knowne,
His color, which is whyte and redd,
It will make blacke and browne:150
Itt will make redd and whyte;
That sworde is not in all Englande,
Upon his coate will byte.
Out of the north countrye;
And Ile be your boy, soe faine of fighte,
And beare your harpe by your knee.
That ever tooke harpe in hand;160
And I wil be the best singÈr,
That ever sung in this lande.
All and in grammaryÈ,
That we towe are the boldest men,165
That are in all ChristentyÈ.
On tow good renish steedes:
And when they came to king Adlands hall,
Of redd gold shone their weedes.170
Untill the fayre hall yate,
There they found a proud portÈr
Rearing himselfe thereatt.
Sayes, Christ thee save and see.
Nowe you be welcome, sayd the portÈr,
Of what land soever ye bee.
Come out of the northe countrye;180
Wee beene come hither untill this place,
This proud weddinge for to see.
As it is blacke and browne,
I wold saye king Estmere and his brother185
Were comen untill this towne.
Layd itt on the porters arme:
And ever we will thee, proud portÈr,
Thow wilt saye us no harme.190
And sore he handled the ryng,
Then opened to them the fayre hall yates,
He lett
Soe fayre att the hall bord;
The froth, that came from his brydle bitte,
Light in kyng Bremors beard.
Saies, Stable him in the stalle;200
It doth not beseeme a proud harpÈr
To stable 'him' in a kyngs halle.
He will doe nought that's meete;
And is there any man in this hall205
Were able him to beate.
Thou harper here to mee:
There is a man within this halle,
Will beate thy ladd and thee.210
A sight of him wold I see;
And when hee hath beaten well my ladd,
Then he shall beate of mee.
And looked him in the eare;
For all the gold, that was under heaven,
He durst not neigh him neare.
And how what aileth thee?220
He saies, It is writt in his forhead
All and in gramaryÈ,
That for all the gold that is under heaven,
I dare not neigh him nye.
And plaid a pretty thinge:
The ladye upstart from the borde,
And wold have gone from the king.
For Gods love I pray thee230
For and thou playes as thou beginns,
Thou'lt till
And playd a pretty thinge;
The ladye lough
As shee sate by the king.
And thy stringÈs all,
For as many gold nobles 'thou shalt have'
As heere bee ringes in the hall.240
If I did sell itt yee?
"To playe my wiffe and me a Fitt,
When abed together wee bee."
As shee sitts by thy knee,
And as many gold nobles I will give,
As leaves been on a tree.
Iff I did sell her thee?250
More seemelye it is for her fayre bodye
To lye by mee then thee.
And Adler he did syng,
"O ladye, this is thy owne true love;255
Noe harper, but a kyng.
As playnlye thou mayest see;
And Ile rid thee of that foule paynim,
And blushte and lookt agayne,
While Adler he hath drawne his brande,
And hath the Sowdan slayne.
And loud they gan to crye:
Ah! traytors, yee have slayne our kyng,
And therefore yee shall dye.
And swith
And Estmere he, and Adler yonge
Right stiffe in stour
Throughe help of GramaryÈ
That soone they have slayne the kempery men,275
Or forst them forth to flee.
And marryed her to his wiffe,
And brought her home to merry EnglÀnd
With her to leade his life.280
? The word GramaryÈ,
†‡† Termagaunt (mentioned above, p. 85) is the name given in the old romances to the god of the Saracens, in which he is constantly
And Termagaunt my god so bright."
Sign. p. iii. b.
This word is derived by the very learned editor of Junius from the Anglo-Saxon Ty?? very, and Ma?an mighty. As this word had so sublime a derivation, and was so applicable to the true God, how shall we account for its being so degraded? Perhaps Ty??-ma?an or Termagant had been a name originally given to some Saxon idol, before our ancestors were converted to Christianity; or had been the peculiar attribute of one of their false deities; and therefore the first Christian missionaries rejected it as profane and improper to be applied to the true God. Afterwards, when the irruptions of the Saracens into Europe, and the Crusades into the East, had brought them acquainted with a new species of unbelievers, our ignorant ancestors, who thought all that did not receive the Christian law were necessarily pagans and idolaters, supposed the Mahometan creed was in all respects the same with that of their pagan forefathers, and therefore made no scruple to give the ancient name of Termagant to the god of the Saracens, just in the same manner as they afterwards used the name of Sarazen to express any kind of pagan or idolater. In the ancient romance of Merline (in the editor's folio MS.) the Saxons themselves that came over with Hengist, because they were not Christians, are constantly called Sarazens.
However that be, it is certain that, after the times of the Crusades, both Mahound and Termagaunt made their frequent appearance in the pageants and religious interludes of the barbarous ages; in which they were exhibited with gestures so furious and frantic, as to become proverbial. Thus Skelton speaks of Wolsey:—
No man dare him withsay."
Ed. 1736, p. 158.
In like manner Bale, describing the threats used by some papist magistrates to his wife, speaks of them as "grennyng upon her lyke Termagauntes in a playe." (Actes of Engl. Votaryes, pt. ii. fo. 83, Ed. 1550, 12mo.) Accordingly in a letter of Edward Alleyn, the founder of Dulwich College, to his wife or sister, who, it seems, with all her fellows (the players), had been "by my Lorde Maiors officer[s] mad to rid in a cart," he expresses his concern that she should "fall into the hands of suche Tarmagants." (So the orig. dated May 2, 1593, preserved by the care of the Rev. Thomas Jenyns Smith, Fellow of Dulw. Coll.) Hence we may conceive
Another frequent character in the old pageants or interludes of our ancestors, was the sowdan or soldan, representing a grim eastern tyrant. This appears from a curious passage in Stow's Annals (p. 458). In a stage-play "the people know right well that he that plaieth the sowdain, is percase a sowter [shoe-maker]; yet if one should cal him by his owne name, while he standeth in his majestie, one of his tormenters might hap to break his head." The sowdain, or soldan, was a name given to the Sarazen king (being only a more rude pronunciation of the word sultan), as the soldan of Egypt, the soudan of Persia, the sowdan of Babylon, &c., who were generally represented as accompanied with grim Sarazens, whose business it was to punish and torment Christians.
I cannot conclude this short memoir, without observing that the French romancers, who had borrowed the word Termagant from us, and applied it as we in their old romances, corrupted it into Tervagaunte; and from them La Fontaine took it up, and has used it more than once in his tales. This may be added to the other proofs adduced in these volumes of the great intercourse that formerly subsisted between the old minstrels and legendary writers of both nations, and that they mutually borrowed each other's romances.
FOOTNOTES:
VII.
SIR PATRICK SPENCE,
A Scottish Ballad,
Is given from two MS. copies transmitted from Scotland. In what age the hero of this ballad lived, or when this fatal expedition happened that proved so destructive to the Scots nobles, I have not been able to discover; yet am of opinion, that their catastrophe is not altogether without foundation in history, though it has escaped my own
In some modern copies, instead of Patrick Spence hath been substituted the name of Sir Andrew Wood, a famous Scottish admiral who flourished in the time of our Edward IV., but whose story has nothing in common with this of the ballad. As Wood was the most noted warrior of Scotland, it is probable that, like the Theban Hercules, he hath engrossed the renown of other heroes.
[The fact that this glorious ballad was never heard of before Percy printed it in 1765, caused some to throw doubts upon its authenticity, and their scepticism was strengthened by the note at p. 102, which refers to the author of Hardyknute. It was thought that the likeness in expression and sentiment there mentioned might easily be explained if the two poems were both by Lady Wardlaw. This view, advocated by Robert Chambers in his general attack on the authenticity of all The Romantic Scottish Ballads (1859), has not met with much favour, and Professor Child thinks that the arguments against the genuineness of Sir Patrick Spence are so trivial as hardly to admit of statement. He writes, "If not ancient it has been always accepted as such by the most skilful judges, and is a solitary instance of a successful imitation in manner and spirit of the best specimens of authentic minstrelsy."
The grand old ballad of Sir Patrick Spens."
Antiquaries have objected that Spence is not an early Scottish name, but in this they are wrong, for Professor Aytoun found it in a charter of Robert III. and also in Wyntoun's Chronicle.
There has been considerable discussion as to the historical event referred to in the ballad, and the present version does not contain any mention of one of the points that may help towards a settlement of the question. The version in Scott's Minstrelsy contains the following stanza:—
To Noroway o'er the faem
The king's daughter of Noroway
'Tis thou maun bring her hame."
Professor Aytoun would change the third line to
as he agrees with Motherwell in the view that the ballad refers to the fate of the Scottish nobles who in 1281 conveyed Margaret, daughter of Alexander III., to Norway, on the occasion of her nuptials with King Eric.
Fordun relates this incident as follows:—"In the year 1281 Margaret, daughter of Alexander III., was married to the King of Norway, who, leaving Scotland in the last day of July, was conveyed thither in noble style in company with many knights and nobles. In returning home after the celebration of her nuptials, the Abbot of Balmerinoch, Bernard of Monte-alto, and many other persons, were drowned." As to the scene of the disaster, Aytoun brings forward an interesting illustration of the expression "half over to Aberdour," in line 41. He says that in the little island of Papa Stronsay one of the Orcadian group lying over against Norway, there is a large grave or tumulus which has been known to the inhabitants from time immemorial as "the grave of Sir Patrick Spens," and he adds, that as the Scottish ballads were not early current in Orkney, it is unlikely that the poem originated the name.
The other suggestions as to an historical basis for the ballad are not borne out by history. It is well, however, to note in illustration of line 1, that the Scottish kings chiefly resided in their palace of Dunfermline from the time of Malcolm Canmore to that of Alexander III.
The present copy of the ballad is the shortest of the various versions, but this is not a disadvantage, as it gains much in force by the directness of its language.
Buchan prints a ballad called Young Allan, which is somewhat like Sir Patrick Spence.]
Drinking the blude-reid wine:
O quhar will I get guid sailÒr,
To sail this schip of mine?
Sat at the kings richt kne:
Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailÒr,
That sails upon the se.
And signd it wi' his hand;10
And sent it to Sir Patrick Spence,
Was walking on the sand.
A loud lauch lauched he:
The next line that Sir Patrick red,15
The teir blinded his ee.
This ill deid don to me;
To send me out this time o'the yeir,
To sail upon the se?20
Our guid schip sails the morne.
O say na sae, my master deir,
For I feir a deadlie storme.
Wi' the auld moone in hir arme;
And I feir, I feir, my deir mastÈr,
That we will com to harme.
To weet their cork-heild schoone;
Bot lang owre
Thair hats they swam aboone.
Wi' thair fans into their hand,
Or eir they se Sir Patrick Spence35
Cum sailing to the land.
Wi' thair gold kems
Waiting for thair ain deir lords,
For they'll se thame na mair.40
FOOTNOTES:
[Finlay observes that Percy's note is incorrect. The truth is that De Mortuo Mari is the designation of a family (Mortimer) who were lords of Aberdour. They are believed to have received their name from the Dead Sea, in Palestine, during the times of the Crusades.]
VIII.
ROBIN HOOD AND GUY OF GISBORNE.
We have here a ballad of Robin Hood (from the editor's folio MS.) which was never before printed, and carries marks of much greater antiquity than any of the common popular songs on this subject.
The severity of those tyrannical forest laws that were introduced by our Norman kings, and the great temptation of breaking them by such as lived near the royal forests at a time when the yeomanry of this kingdom were everywhere trained up to the long-bow, and excelled all other nations in the art of shooting, must constantly have occasioned great numbers of outlaws,
Among all those, none was ever more famous than the hero of this ballad, whose chief residence was in Shirewood forest, in Nottinghamshire, and the heads of whose story, as collected by Stow, are briefly these.
"In this time [about the year 1190, in the reign of Richard I.] were many robbers, and outlawes, among the which Robin Hood, and Little John, renowned theeves, continued in woods, despoyling and robbing the goods of the rich. They killed none but such as would invade them; or by resistance for their own defence.
"The saide Robert entertained an hundred tall men and good archers with such spoiles and thefts as he got, upon whom four hundred (were they ever so strong) durst not give the onset. He suffered no woman to be oppressed, violated, or otherwise molested: poore mens goods he spared, abundantlie relieving them with that which by theft he got from abbeys and the houses of rich carles: whom Maior (the historian) blameth for his rapine and theft, but of all theeves he affirmeth him to be the prince, and the most gentle theefe."—Annals, p. 159.
The personal courage of this celebrated outlaw, his skill in archery, his humanity, and especially his levelling principle of taking from the rich and giving to the poor, have in all ages rendered him the favourite of the common people, who, not content to celebrate his memory by innumerable songs and stories, have erected him into the dignity of an earl. Indeed, it is not impossible but our hero, to gain the more respect from his followers, or they to derive the more credit to their profession, may have given rise to such a report themselves: for we find it recorded in an epitaph, which, if genuine, must have been inscribed on his tombstone near the nunnery of Kirklees in Yorkshire; where (as the story goes) he was bled to death by a treacherous nun to whom he applied for phlebotomy:—
lai? robert earl of huntingtun
nea arcir ver a? hie sae geud
an pipl kauld im Robin Heud
vil England nivir si agen.
obiit 24 kal. dekembris. 1247."
This epitaph appears to me suspicious; however, a late antiquary has given a pedigree of Robin Hood, which, if genuine, shows that he had real pretensions to the Earldom of Huntingdon, and that his true name was Robert Fitz-ooth.
That be of fre-bore blode:
I shall you tell of a good yeman,
His name was Robyn hode.
Whiles he walked on grounde;
So curteyse an outlawe as he was one,
Was never none yfounde," &c.
The printer's colophon is, "¶ Explicit Kinge Edwarde and Robin hode and Lyttel Johan. Enprented at London in Flete-strete at the sygne of the sone by Wynkin de Worde." In Mr. Garrick's Collection
I shall conclude these preliminary remarks with observing, that the hero of this ballad was the favourite subject of popular songs so early as the time of King Edward III. In the Visions of Pierce Plowman, written in that reign, a monk says:—
But of our Lorde and our Lady, I lerne nothyng at all."
Fol. 26, ed. 1550.
See also in Bishop Latimer's Sermons
The curious reader will find many other particulars relating to this celebrated outlaw, in Sir John Hawkins's Hist. of Music, vol. iii. p. 410, 4to.
For the catastrophe of Little John, who, it seems, was executed for a robbery on Arbor-hill, Dublin (with some curious particulars relating to his skill in archery), see Mr. J. C. Walker's ingenious Memoir on the Armour and Weapons of the Irish, p. 129, annexed to his Historical Essay on the Dress of the Ancient and Modern Irish. Dublin, 1788, 4to.
Some liberties were, by the editor, taken with this ballad; which, in this edition, hath been brought nearer to the folio MS.
[Robin Hood is first mentioned in literature in Piers Plowman, the earliest of the three forms of which poem was written probably about the year 1362. The ballad of Robin Hood and the Monk, printed in Child's English and Scottish Ballads, as the oldest of its class, and possibly as old as the reign of Edward II., commences:—
And leves be large and longe
Hit is full mery in feyre foreste
To here the foulys song."
Verses which bear a strong likeness to the opening lines of the present ballad.
Gisborne is a market town in the West Riding of the county of York on the borders of Lancashire, and Guy of that place is mentioned by William Dunbar in a satirical piece on "Schir Thomas Nory," where he is named in company with Adam Bell and other well-known worthies.
It is not needful to extend this note with any further particulars of Robin Hood, as he possesses, in virtue of his position as a popular hero, a literature of his own. Those who wish to know more of his exploits should consult Ritson's (1795) and Gutch's (1847) Collections of Robin Hood Ballads, Child's Ballads, vol. v. and Chappell's Popular Music of the Olden Time, vol. i. pp. 387-400.
There are several Robin Hood Ballads in the folio MS., but Percy only chose the one containing an account of the encounter with Guy for printing. Ritson copied this ballad from Percy's book, but indulged at the same time in a tirade against the bishop's treatment of his original.]
And leaves both large and longe,
Itt is merrye walking in the fayre forrÈst
To heare the small birdes songe.
[Sitting upon the spraye,
Soe lowde, he wakened Robin Hood,[492]
In the greenwood where he lay.[492]
A sweaven
I dreamt me of tow wighty
That fast with me can fight.][492]
And tooke my bow mee froe;
If I be Robin alive in this lande,15
Ile be wroken
As the wind that blowes ore a hill;
For if itt be never so loude this night,
To-morrow itt may be still.20
And John shall goe with mee,
For Ile goe seeke yond wight yeomen,
In greenwood where thÉ bee.
[And tooke theyr bowes each one;
And they away to the greene forrÈst]
A shooting forth are gone;
Where they had gladdest bee,30
There were thÉ ware
His body leaned to a tree.
Of manye a man the bane;
And he was clad in his capull hyde
Topp and tayll and mayne.
Under this tree so grene,
And I will go to yond wight yeoman
To know what he doth meane.
And that I farley
How offt send I my men beffore,
And tarry my selfe behinde?
And a man but heare him speake;
And itt were not for bursting of my bowe,
So they parted Robin and John;50
And John is gone to Barnesdale:
The gates
Great heavinesse there hee hadd,
For he found tow of his owne fellÒwes55
Were slaine both in a slade.
Fast over stocke and stone,
For the sheriffe with seven score men
Fast after him is gone.60
With Christ his might and mayne;
Ile make yond fellow that flyes soe fast,
To stopp he shall be fayne.
And fetteled
The bow was made of a tender boughe,
And fell downe to his foote.
That ere thou grew on a tree;70
For now this day thou art my bale,
Yet flewe not the arrowe in vaine,
For itt mett one of the sherriffes men,75
Good William a Trent was slaine.
To have bene abed with sorrowe,
Than to be that day in the green wood slade
To meet with Little Johns arrowe.
Fyve can doe more than three,
The sheriffe hath taken little John,
And bound him fast to a tree.
And hanged hye on a hill.
But thou mayst fayle of thy purpose, quoth John,
If itt be Christ his will.
And thinke of Robin Hood,
How he is gone to the wight yeomÀn,
Where under the leaves he stood.
"Good morrowe, good fellow, quoth he:"
Methinkes by this bowe thou beares in thy hande95
A good archere thou sholdst bee.
And of my morning tyde.
Ile lead thee through the wood, sayd Robin;
Good fellow, Ile be thy guide.100
Men call him Robin Hood;
Rather Ild meet with that proud outlÀwe
Than fortye pound soe good.[529]
And Robin thou soone shalt see:[530]
But first let us some pastime find[530]
Under the greenwood tree.][530]
Among the woods so even,[532]110
Wee may chance to meet with Robin Hood
That grew both under a breere,
And sett them threescore rood in twaine115
To shoote the prickes
Leade on, I doe bidd thee.
Nay by my faith, good fellowe, hee sayd,
My leader thou shalt bee.
He mist but an inch it froe:[541]
The yeoman he was an archer good,[541]
But he cold never shoote soe.
He shote within the garlÀnde:
But Robin he shott far better than hee,
For he clave the good pricke wande.
Good fellowe, thy shooting is goode;130
For an thy hart be as good as thy hand,
Thou wert better then Robin Hoode.
Under the leaves of lyne.
Nay by my faith, quoth bolde RobÌn,
Till thou have told me thine.
And Robin to take Ime sworne;
And when I am called by my right name
I am Guye of good GisbÒrne.140
By thee I set right nought:
I am Robin Hood of BarnÈsdale,
Whom thou so long hast sought.
Might have seene a full fayre sight,
To see how together these yeomen went
With blades both browne
Two howres of a summers day:150
Yett neither Robin Hood nor sir Guy
Them fettled to flye away.
And stumbled at that tyde;
And Guy was quicke and nimble with-all,155
And hitt him ore the left side.
That art both mother and may',
I think it was never mans destinye
To dye before his day.160
And soone leapt up againe,
And strait he came with a "backward" stroke,
And he sir Guy hath slayne.
And sticked itt on his bowes end:
Thou hast beene a traytor all thy liffe,
Which thing must have an ende.
And nicked sir Guy in the face,170
That he was never on woman born,
Cold tell whose head it was.
And with me be not wrothe;
If thou have had the worse strokes at my hand,175
Thou shalt have the better clothe.
And on sir Guy did it throwe,
And hee put on that capull hyde,
That cladd him topp to toe.180
Now with me I will beare;
For I will away to BarnÈsdale,
To see how my men doe fare.
And a loud blast in it did blow.
That beheard the sheriffe of Nottingham,
As he leaned under a lowe.
I heare nowe tydings good,190
For yonder I heare sir Guyes horne blowe,
And he hath slaine Robin Hoode.
Itt blowes soe well in tyde,
And yonder comes that wightye yeoman,195
Cladd in his capull hyde.
Aske what thou wilt of mee.
O I will none of thy gold, sayd Robin,
Nor I will none of thy fee:200
Let me go strike the knave;
This is all the rewarde I aske;
Nor noe other will I have.
Thou sholdest have had a knights fee:
But seeing thy asking hath beene soe bad,
Well granted it shale be.
Well knewe he it was his steven:
Now shall I be looset, quoth Litle John,
With Christ his might in heaven.
He thought to loose him belive;
The sheriffe and all his companye215
Fast after him did drive.
Why draw you mee soe neere?
Itt was never the use in our countryÈ,
Ones shrift another shold heere.220
And losed John hand and foote,
And gave him sir Guyes bow into his hand,
And bade it be his boote.
His boltes and arrowes eche one:
When the sheriffe saw Little John bend his bow,
He fettled him to be gone.
He fled full fast away;230
And soe did all his companye:
Not one behind wold stay.
? The title of Sir was not formerly peculiar to knights, it was given to priests, and sometimes to very inferior personages.
Dr. Johnson thinks this title was applied to such as had taken the degree of A. B. in the universities, who are still stiled, Domini, "Sirs," to distinguish them from Undergraduates, who have no prefix, and from Masters of Arts, who are stiled Magistri, "Masters."
FOOTNOTES:
[* * * * *]
And it is by two wight yeomen
By deare God that I meane."]
and talke of Guy and Robin Hood
In they green woode where they bee
[how these two yeomen together they mett
under the leaves of Lyne,
to see what marchandise they made
even at that same time."]]
Then 40li. of golde."]
afore yee did part awaye;
Let us some other pastime find,
good ffellow, I thee pray:"]
and wee will walke in the woods even," f. MS.]
did not shoote an inch the pricke ffroe.
Guy was an archer good enoughe."]
and I have done many a curst turne;
and he that calles me by my right name,
calles me Guy of good Gysborne."]
Prol. ver. 620.
And even thus the God Mars:—
Test. of Cressid. 188
Spenser has sometimes used the same epithet. See Warton's Observ. vol. ii. p. 62. It should seem, from this particularity, that our ancestors did not pique themselves upon keeping their weapons bright: perhaps they deemed it more honourable to carry them stained with the blood of their enemies. [As the swords are here said to be bright as well as brown, they could not have been rusty. The expression nut-brown sword was used to designate a Damascus blade.]
that ffettled them to flye away."]
ffor now I will goe to Barnesdale," f. MS.]
nor Ile none of itt have," f. MS.]
his arrowes were rawstye by the roote;
the sherriffe saw little John draw a bow
and ffettle him to shoote."]
nor away soe fast runn,
but litle John with an arrow broade
did cleave his head in twinn," f. MS.]
IX.
AN ELEGY ON HENRY FOURTH EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND.
The subject of this poem, which was written by Skelton, is the death of Henry Percy, fourth earl of Northumberland, who fell a victim to the avarice of Henry VII. In 1489 the parliament had granted the king a subsidy for carrying on the war in Bretagne. This tax was found so heavy in the North, that the whole country was in a flame. The E. of Northumberland, then lord lieutenant for Yorkshire, wrote to inform the king of the discontent, and praying an abatement. But nothing is so unrelenting as avarice: the king wrote back that not a penny should be abated. This message being delivered by the earl with too little caution, the populace rose, and, supposing him to be the promoter of their calamity, broke into his house, and murdered him, with several of his attendants, who yet are charged by Skelton with being backward in their duty on this occasion. This melancholy event happened at the earl's seat at Cocklodge, near Thirske, in Yorkshire, April 28, 1489. See Lord Bacon, &c.
If the reader does not find much poetical merit in this old poem (which yet is one of Skelton's best), he will see a striking picture of the state and magnificence kept up by our ancient nobility during the feudal times. This great earl is described here as having, among his menial servants, knights, squires, and even barons: see v. 32. 183. &c. which, however different from modern manners, was formerly not unusual with our greater barons, whose castles had all the splendour and offices of a royal court before the laws against retainers abridged and limited the number of their attendants.
John Skelton, who commonly styled himself Poet Laureat, died June 21, 1529. The following poem, which appears to have been written soon after the event, is printed from an ancient MS. copy preserved in the British Museum, being much more correct than that printed among Skelton's Poems in bl. let. 12mo. 1568.—It is addressed to Henry Percy, fifth earl of Northumberland, and is prefaced, &c. in the following manner:
Poeta Skelton Laureatus libellum suum metrice alloquitur.
Qui Northumbrorum jura paterna gerit,
Ad nutum celebris tu prona repone leonis,
QuÆque suo patri tristia justa cano.
Ast ubi perlegit, dubiam sub mente volutet
Fortunam, cuncta quÆ male fida rotat.
Qui leo sit felix, & Nestoris occupet annos;
Ad libitum cujus ipse paratus ero.
[Percy does not do justice to Skelton's poetical powers in the above note, as this Elegy is written in a style not at all characteristic of him and is also far from being one of his best poems. Skelton was one of the earliest personal satirists in our language, and he flew at high game when he attacked the powerful Wolsey with fierce invective, in his "Why come ye nat to courte?" His Boke of Phyllyp Sparrowe is described by Coleridge as "an exquisite and original poem," and its subject entitles him to the designation of the modern Catullus. It was very popular in his day, and the nursery rhyme of Who killed Cock robin? was probably paraphrased from the portion of the poem in which the funeral of the sparrow is related. Skelton was a distinguished scholar and his earlier poems are written in the serious strain of the Elegy, but curiously enough about the time that he took orders (1498) and became rector of Diss in Norfolk, he began to write in a more natural, frolicsome and satirical vein, and adopted the metre now known as Skeltonian. He was not very particular as to the words he used, but he does not deserve the opprobrious epithet that Pope applies to him in the couplet—
And beastly Skelton heads of houses quote."
Skelton graduated as poet laureate at the two Universities of Oxford and Cambridge, and the King allowed him to wear an appropriate decoration at court. There is a full length portrait of the poet in Brydges' British Bibliographer (vol. iv. p. 389), taken from one on the back of the title of A ryght delectable tratyse upon a goodly Garlande or Chaplet of Laurell by Mayster Skelton, Poete laureat.
The Rev. Alexander Dyce published the first complete collected edition of Skelton's Poetical Works in 1843 (2 vols. 8vo.)]
SKELTON LAUREAT UPON THE DOLORUS DETHE AND MUCH LAMENTABLE CHAUNCE OF THE MOOST HONORABLE ERLE OF NORTHUMBERLANDE.
The dedely fate, the dolefulle destenny
Of him that is gone, alas! withoute restore,
Of the blode
Whos lordshepe doutles was slayne lamentably5
Thorow treson ageyn
Trew to his prince, in word, in dede, and thought.
In the college of musis goddess hystoriall,
Adres the to me, whiche am both halt and lame10
In elect uteraunce to make memoryall:
To the for soccour, to the for helpe I call
Myne homely rudnes and drighnes to expelle
With the freshe waters of Elyconys
Of famous princis and lordes of astate,
By thy report ar wonte to be extold,
Regestringe trewly every formare date;
Kyndle in me suche plenty of thy noblÈs,
Thes sorrowfulle dities that I may shew expres.
Of formar writinge by any presidente
That vilane hastarddis
Fulfyld with malice of froward entente,25
Confeterd
Falsly to slo
It may be registerde of shamefull recorde.
Fulfilled with honor, as all the worlde dothe ken;30
At his commaundement, whiche had both day and night
Knyghtis and squyers, at every season when
He calde upon them, as menyall houshold men:
Were no thes commones uncurteis karlis of kynde
To slo their owne lorde? God was not in their minde.35
That were aboute hym, his owne servants of trust,
To suffre hym slayn of his mortall fo?
Fled away from hym, let hym ly in the dust:
They bode
What shuld I flatter? what shulde I glose
Fy, fy for shame, their harts wer to faint.
Of whom both Flaunders and Scotland stode in drede;
To whome grete astates obeyde and lowttede;
A mayny
Unkindly they slew hym, that holp them oft at nede:
He was their bulwark, their paves,
What frantyk frensy fyll
Where was your wit and reson, ye shuld have had?
What willfull foly made yow to ryse agayne
Your naturall lord? alas! I can not fayne.
Ye armed you with will, and left your wit behynd;55
Well may you be called comones most unkynd.
Redy to assyst you in every tyme of nede:
Your worship
Alas! ye mad men, to far ye did excede:60
Your hap was unhappy, to ill was your spede:
What movyd you agayn hym to war or to fight?
What aylde you to sle your lord agyn all right?
The welle concernyng of all the hole lande,65
Demaundyng soche dutyes as nedis most acord
To the right of his prince which shold not be withstand;
For whos cause ye slew hym with your awne hande:
But had his nobill men done wel that day,
Ye had not been hable to have saide him nay.70
How-be-it the matter was evident and playne,
For yf they had occupied
This noble man doutles had not be slayne.
Bot men say they wer lynked with a double chayn,75
And held with the commouns under a cloke,
Whiche kindeled the wyld fyre that made all this smoke.
Of them demaunded and asked by the kinge;
With one voice importune, they playnly said nay:80
They buskt them on a bushment
Agayne the kings plesure to wrastle or to wringe,
Bluntly as bestis withe boste
They saide, they forsede
As man that was innocent of trechery or trayne,
Presed forthe boldly to witstand the myght,
And, lyke marciall Hector, he fauht them agayne,
Vigorously upon them with myght and with mayne,
Trustinge in noble men that wer with hym there:90
Bot all they fled from hym for falshode or fere.
Togeder with servaunts of his famuly,
Turnid their backis, and let ther master fall,
Of whos [life] they counted not a flye;95
Take up whos wolde for them, they let hym ly.
Alas! his golde, his fee, his annuall rente
Upon suche a sort
Withe his enemys, that were stark mad and wode;
Yet whils he stode he gave them woundes wyde:
Alas for routhe!
His corage manly, yet ther he shed his bloode!
All left alone, alas! he fawte in vayne;
For cruelly amonge them ther he was slayne.105
The famous erle of Northumberlande:
Of knightly prowÈs the sworde pomel and hylt,
The myghty lyoun
O dolorous chaunce of fortuns fruward hande!110
What man remembring how shamfully he was slayne,
From bitter weepinge hymself kan restrayne?
O dolorous teusday, dedicate to thy name,
When thou shoke thy sworde so noble a man to mar!115
O grounde ungracious, unhappy be thy fame,
Whiche wert endyed with rede blode of the same!
Moste noble erle! O fowle mysuryd
Whereon he gat his fynal dedely wounde!
Goddes mooste cruell unto the lyf of man,
All merciles, in the ys no pitÈ!
O homycide, whiche sleest
So forcibly upon this erle thow ran,
That with thy sworde enharpid
Thou kit
Of aureat
Bot by them to knoulege ye may attayne
Of this lordis dethe and of his murdrynge.130
Which whils he lyvyd had fuyson
Of knights, of squyers, chef lord of toure and toune,
Tyl fykkill
Surmountinge in honor all erls he did excede,135
To all cuntreis aboute hym reporte
Lyke to Eneas benygne in worde and dede,
Valiaunt as Hector in every marciall nede,
Provydent, discrete, circumspect, and wyse,139
Tyll the chaunce ran agyne him of fortunes duble dyse.
With my rude pen enkankerd all with rust?
Whos noble actis shew worsheply his name,
Transcendyng far myne homely muse, that must
Yet sumwhat wright supprisid with hartly lust,
Truly reportinge his right noble astate,
Immortally whiche is immaculate.
Trew to his prince for to defende his right,
Doublenes hatinge, fals maters to compas,150
Treytory
With trowth to medle was all his hole delyght,
As all his kuntrey kan testefy the same:
To slo suche a lord, alas, it was grete shame.
In me all onely wer sett and comprisyde,
Enbrethed with the blast of influence dyvyne,
As perfightly as could be thought or devysyd;
To me also allthouche it were promysyde
Of laureat Phebus holy the eloquence,160
All were to litill for his magnyficence.
Grow and encrese, remembre thyn astate,
God the assyst unto thyn herytage,
And geve the grace to be more fortunate,165
And, as the lyoune, whiche is of bestis kinge,
Unto thy subjectis be kurteis and benyngne.
Stabille thy mynde constant to be and fast,170
Right to mayntein, and to resist all wronge:
All flattringe faytors
Of foule detraction God kepe the from the blast:
Let double delinge in the have no place,
And be not light of credence in no case.175
Eche man may sorrow in his inward thought,
Thys lords death, whose pere is hard to fynd
Allgyf
Al kings, all princes, all dukes, well they ought180
Bothe temporall and spirituall for to complayne
This noble man, that crewelly was slayne.
And all other gentilmen with hym enterteynd
In fee, as menyall men of his housold,185
Whom he as lord worsheply manteynd:
To sorowfull weping they ought to be constreynd,
As oft as thei call to ther remembraunce,
Of ther good lord the fate and dedely chaunce.
That with one worde formed al thing of noughte;
Hevyn, hell, and erth obey unto thi kall;
Which to thy resemblance wondersly hast wrought
All mankynd, whom thou full dere hast boght,
With thy blode precious our finaunce
And us redemed, from the fendys pray;
As thou art of mercy and pite the well,
Thou bringe unto thy joye etermynable
The sowle of this lorde from all daunger of hell,200
In endles blis with the to byde and dwell
In thy palace above the orient,
Where thou art lorde, and God omnipotent.
Maiden moste pure, and goddis moder dere,205
To sorowfull harts chef comfort and solace,
Of all women O floure withouten pere,
Pray to thy son above the starris clere,
He to vouchesaf by thy mediatioun
To pardon thy servant, and bringe to salvacion.210
With all the hole sorte
His soule mot
Thorowe bounte of hym that formed all solace:
Well of pite, of mercy, and of grace,215
The father, the son, and the holy goste
In Trinitate one God of myghts moste.
†‡† I have placed the foregoing poem of Skelton's before the following extract from Hawes, not only because it was written first, but because I think Skelton is in general to be considered as the earlier poet; many of his poems being written long before Hawes's Graunde Amour.
FOOTNOTES:
X.
THE TOWER OF DOCTRINE.
The reader has here a specimen of the descriptive powers of Stephen Hawes, a celebrated poet in the reign of Hen. VII. tho' now little known. It is extracted from an allegorical poem of his (written in 1505.) intitled, The History of Graunde Amoure and La Bel Pucell, called the Pastime of Pleasure, &c. 4to. 1555. See more of Hawes in Ath. Ox. v. 1. p. 6. and Warton's Observ. v. 2. p. 105. He was also author of a book, intitled, The Temple of Glass. Wrote by Stephen Hawes, gentleman of the bedchamber to K. Henry VII. Pr. for Caxton, 4to. no date.
The following Stanzas are taken from Chap. III. and IV. of the Hist. above-mentioned. "How Fame departed from Graunde Amoure and left him with Governaunce and Grace, and how he went to the Tower of Doctrine, &c."—As we are able to give no small lyric piece of Hawes's, the reader will excuse the insertion of this extract.
[Most readers will probably be satisfied with the seventy-four lines that Percy has extracted from Hawes's long didactic poem, but those who wish to read the whole will find it reprinted by Mr. Thomas Wright in the fifteenth volume of the Percy Society's publications. The account of Rhetorick and the other allegorical nullities is weary reading, but the chapter in commendation of Gower, Chaucer and the author's master Lydgate, "the chefe orygynal of my lernyng," is interesting from a literary point of view. The poem was very popular in its own day and passed through several editions, and it has found admirers among critics of a later age. The Rev. Dr. Hodgson in a letter to Percy, dated Sept. 22, 1800,
Cap. III.
I loked about and saw a craggy roche,
Farre in the west, neare to the element,
And as I dyd then unto it approche,
Upon the toppe I sawe refulgent
The royal tower of Morall Document,5
Made of fine copper with turrettes fayre and hye,
Which against Phebus shone so marveylously,
What of the tower, and of the cleare sunne,
I could nothyng behold the goodlines10
Of that palaice, whereas Doctrine did wonne:
Tyll at the last, with mysty wyndes donne,
The radiant brightnes of golden Phebus
Auster gan cover with clowde tenebrus.
And often mused of the great hyghnes
Of the craggy rocke, which quadrant did appeare:
But the fayre tower, so much of ryches
Was all about, sexangled doubtles;
Gargeyld
Made of fyne golde; with divers sundry dragons.
About was set, whiche with the wynde aye moved.
Wyth propre vices,
About the towers, in sundry wyse they hoved
With goodly pypes, in their mouthes i-tuned,
That with the wynde they pyped a daunce,
I-clipped
Cap. IV.
To whyche ther was no way to passe but one,30
Into the toure for to have an intres:
A grece
Out of the rocke, on whyche men dyd gone
Up to the toure, and in lykewyse dyd I
Wyth bothe the Grayhoundes in my company:
Where I sawe stondynge the goodly Portres,
Whiche axed me, from whence I came a-late?
To whome I gan in every thynge expresse
All myne adventure, chaunce, and busynesse,40
And eke my name; I tolde her every dell:
Whan she herde this, she lyked me right well.
Into the besy
Where was a fountayne depured
A noble sprynge, a ryall conduyte hede,
Made of fyne golde enameled with reed;
And on the toppe four dragons blewe and stoute
Thys dulcet water in foure partyes dyd spout.
Sweter than Nylus
Tygrys or Eufrates unto them no pere:
I dyd than taste the aromatyke lycoure,
Fragraunt of fume, swete as any floure;
And in my mouthe it had a marveylous cent
Of divers spyces, I knewe not what it ment.
Dame Countenaunce into a goodly Hall,
Of jasper stones it was wonderly wrought:
The wyndowes cleare depured all of crystall,60
And in the roufe on hye over all
Of golde was made a ryght crafty vyne;
In stede of grapes the rubies there did shyne.
With pillers made of stones precious,65
Like a place of pleasure so gayely glorified,
It myght be called a palaice glorious,
So muche delectable and solacious;
The hall was hanged hye and circuler
With cloth of arras in the rychest maner.70
Of the doubty waye to the Tower Perillous;
Howe a noble knyght should wynne the victory
Of many a serpente fowle and odious.
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES:
XI.
THE CHILD OF ELLE,
Is given from a fragment in the Editor's folio MS. which, tho' extremely defective and mutilated, appeared to have so much merit, that it excited a strong desire to attempt a completion of the story. The Reader will easily discover the supplemental stanzas by their inferiority, and at the same time be inclined to pardon it, when he considers how difficult it must be to imitate the affecting simplicity and artless beauties of the original.
Child was a title sometimes given to a knight.
[The Child of Ell, as it appears in the folio MS., is a fragment without beginning or ending, so that Percy was forced to add some verses in order to fit it for his book, but the above note does not give any adequate notion of his contributions to the ballad. The verses that are entirely due to the bishop's pen are placed between brackets, and it will be seen from the copy of the original printed at the end that the remaining thirty lines are much altered from it. It is unfortunate that Percy's taste was not sufficient to save him from adding sentimental verses so out of character with the directness of the original as—
And aye her heart was woe:
At length he seized her lilly-white hand,
And downe the ladder he drewe."
On the other hand, the poem as it stands is certainly elegant, and Sir Walter Scott was justified in his high praise when he pointed out the beauty of verses 181-184.
And turned his head aside
To wipe away the starting tear,
He proudly strave to hide."
Scott published a ballad called "Erlinton" for the first time in his Border Minstrelsy, which he says "seems to be the rude original, or perhaps a corrupt and imperfect copy of The Child of Elle."
The original fragment from the MS. is worth reading for its own sake as a genuine antique, which must outweigh in interest all manufactured imitations.]
With walles and towres bedight,
And yonder lives the Child of Elle,
A younge and comely knighte.
And stood at his garden pale,
Whan, lo! he beheld fair Emmelines page
Come trippinge downe the dale.
Y-wis he stoode not stille,10
And soone he mette faire Emmelines page
Come climbing up the hille.
Now Christe thee save and see!
Oh telle me how does thy ladye gaye,15
And what may thy tydinges bee?
And the teares they falle from her eyne;
And aye she laments the deadlye feude
Betweene her house and thine.20
Bedewde with many a teare,
And biddes thee sometimes thinke on her,
Who loved thee so deare.
The last boone thou mayst have,
And biddes thee weare it for her sake,
Whan she is layde in grave.
And in grave soone must shee bee,30
Sith her father hath chose her a new new love,
And forbidde her to think of thee.
Sir John of the north countrÀye,
And within three dayes shee must him wedde,35
Or he vowes he will her slaye.
And greet thy ladye from mee,
And telle her that I her owne true love
Will dye, or sette her free.40
And let thy fair ladye know
This night will I bee at her bowre-windÒwe,
Betide me weale or woe.
He neither stint ne stayd
Untill he came to fair Emmelines bowre,
Whan kneeling downe he sayd,
And he greets thee well by mee;50
This night will he bee at thy bowre-windÒwe,
And dye or sette thee free.
And all were fast asleepe,
All save the ladye Emmeline,55
Who sate in her bowre to weepe:
Lowe whispering at the walle,
Awake, awake, my deare ladyÈ,
Come, mount this faire palfrÀye:
This ladder of ropes will lette thee downe,
Ile carrye thee hence awaye.
Nowe nay, this may not bee;
For aye shold I tint my maiden fame,
If alone I should wend with thee.
Mayst safelye wend alone,70
To my ladye mother I will thee bringe,
Where marriage shall make us one.
Of lynage proude and hye;
And what would he saye if his daughtÈr75
Awaye with a knight should fly?
Nor his meate should doe him no goode,
Until he had slayne thee, Child of Elle,
And seene thy deare hearts bloode."80
And a little space him fro,
I would not care for thy cruel fathÈr,
Nor the worst that he could doe.
And once without this walle,
I would not care for thy cruel fathÈr,
Nor the worst that might befalle.
And aye her heart was woe:90
And downe the ladder he drewe:
And kist her tenderlÌe:
The teares that fell from her fair eyes,95
Ranne like the fountayne free.]
And her on a fair palfrÀye,
And slung his bugle about his necke,
And roundlye they rode awaye.100
In her bed whereas shee ley,
Quoth shee, My lord shall knowe of this,
Soe I shall have golde and fee.
Awake, my noble dame!
Your daughter is fledde with the Child of Elle,
To doe the deede of shame.
And called his merrye men all:110
"And come thou forth, Sir John the knighte,
Thy ladye is carried to thrall."
A mile forth of the towne,
When she was aware of her fathers men115
Come galloping over the downe:
Sir John of the north countrÀye:
"Nowe stop, nowe stop, thou false traitÒure,
Nor carry that ladye awaye.120
And was of a ladye borne,
And ill it beseems thee a false churl's sonne
To carrye her hence to scorne."]
Nowe thou doest lye of mee;
A knight mee gott, and a ladye me bore,
Soe never did none by thee.
Light downe, and hold my steed,130
While I and this discourteous knighte
Doe trye this arduous deede.
Light downe, and hold my horse;
While I and this discourteous knight135
[Doe trye our valour's force.
And aye her heart was woe,
While twixt her love and the carlish knight
Past many a baleful blowe.140
As his weapon he waived amaine,
That soone he had slaine the carlish knight,
And layd him upon the plaine.
Full fast approached nye:
Ah! what may ladye Emmeline doe?
Twere nowe no boote
And blew both loud and shrill,150
And soone he saw his owne merry men
Come ryding over the hill.
I pray thee hold thy hand,
Nor ruthless rend two gentle hearts,155
Fast knit in true love's band.
Full long and many a day;
But with such love as holy kirke
Hath freelye sayd wee may.160
And blesse a faithfull paire:
My lands and livings are not small,
My house and lineage faire:
And a noble knyght my sire——
The baron he frowned, and turn'd away
With mickle dole and ire."
And did all tremblinge stand:170
At lengthe she sprang upon her knee.
And held his lifted hand.
This faire yong knyght and mee:
Trust me, but for the carlish knyght,175
I never had fled from thee.
Your darling and your joye;
O let not then your harsh resolves
Your Emmeline destroye.180
And turned his heade asyde
To whipe awaye the starting teare,
He proudly strave to hyde.
And mused a little space;
Then raised faire Emmeline from the grounde,
With many a fond embrace.
And gave her lillye white hand;190
Here take my deare and only child,
And with her half my land:
In dayes of youthful pride;
Do thou the injurye repayre195
In fondnesse for thy bride.
Heaven prosper thee and thine:
And nowe my blessing wend wi' thee,
My lovelye Emmeline.]200
?
†‡† From the word kirke in ver. 159, this hath been thought to be a Scottish Ballad, but it must be acknowledged that the line referred to is among the additions supplied by the Editor: besides, in the Northern counties of England, kirk is used in the common dialect for church, as well as beyond the Tweed.
[The following thirty-nine lines are the whole of the fragment which Percy used as the groundwork of his poem. They are taken from Bishop Percy's Folio Manuscript, vol. i. p. 133.
Christ saue thee and thy steede!
Nor his drinke shall doe him noe good,
till he have slaine the Child of Ell
And have seene his harts blood.
And a mile out of the towne,
I did not care for your father
And all his merry men!
And a little space him froe,
I did not care for your father
And all that long him to!
To kisse this Lady good;
The teares that went them two betweene
Were blend water and blood.
This lady of one palfray
And sett his litle horne to his mouth
And roundlie he rode away.
A mile out of the towne,
Her father was readye with her seven brether
He said, sett thou my daughter downe!
For itt ill beseemes thee, thou false churles sonne,
To carry her forth of this towne!
That now doest lye of me;
A knight me gott and a lady me bore;
Soe never did none by thee.
Light downe and hold my horsse
Whilest I and your father and your brether
Doe play us at this crosse;
And meeklye hold my steede,
Whilest your father [and your brether] bold.]
[Half a page missing.]
XII.
EDOM O' GORDON,
A Scottish Ballad,
Was printed at Glasgow, by Robert and Andrew Foulis, MDCCLV. 8vo. 12 pages. We are indebted for its publication (with many other valuable things in these volumes) to Sir David Dalrymple, Bart., who gave it as it was preserved in the memory of a lady that is now dead.
The reader will here find it improved and enlarged with several fine stanzas, recovered from a fragment of the same ballad, in the Editor's folio MS. It is remarkable that the latter is entitled Captain Adam Carre, and is in the English idiom. But whether the author was English or Scotch, the difference originally was not great. The English Ballads are generally of the North of England, the Scottish are of the South of Scotland, and of consequence the country of ballad-singers was sometimes subject to one crown, and sometimes to the other, and most frequently to neither. Most of the finest old Scotch songs have the scene laid within twenty miles of England, which is indeed all poetic ground, green hills, remains of woods, clear brooks. The pastoral scenes remain: of the rude chivalry of former ages happily nothing remains but the ruins of the castles, where the more daring and successful robbers resided. The house or castle of the Rodes stood about a measured mile south from Duns, in Berwickshire: some of the ruins of it may be seen to this day. The Gordons were anciently seated in the same county: the two villages of East and West Gordon lie about ten miles from the castle of the Rodes.
From the different titles of this ballad, it should seem that the old strolling bards or minstrels (who gained a livelihood by reciting these poems) made no scruple of changing the names of the personages they introduced, to humour their hearers. For instance, if a Gordon's conduct was blameworthy in the opinion of that age, the obsequious minstrel would, when among Gordons, change the name to Car, whose clan or sept lay further west, and vice versÂ. The foregoing observation, which I owed to Sir David Dalrymple, will appear the more perfectly well founded, if, as I have since been informed (from Crawford's Memoirs), the principal Commander of the expedition was a Gordon, and the immediate agent a Car, or Ker; for then the reciter might, upon good grounds, impute the barbarity here deplored, either to a Gordon or a Car, as best suited his purpose. In the third volume the reader will find a similar instance. See the song of Gil Morris, wherein the principal character introduced had different names given him, perhaps from the same cause.
It may be proper to mention that, in the folio MS., instead of the "Castle of the Rodes," it is the "Castle of Bittons-borrow," and also "Dractons-borrow," and "Capt. Adam Carre" is called the "Lord of Westerton-town." Uniformity required that the additional stanzas supplied from that copy should be clothed in the Scottish orthography and idiom: this has therefore been attempted, though perhaps imperfectly.
[Percy's note, which goes to prove that the historical event referred to in this ballad occurred in the north of Scotland, negatives the view which is expressed just before, that the borders are the
Percy showed good taste in rejecting the termination given in Dalrymple's version, which certainly does not improve the ballad, and has moreover a very modern flavour. The husband is there made to end his days as follows:—
Their ashes for to view.
At last into the flames he flew
And bad the world adieu."
This ballad is found in various versions, which proves how wide-spread was the popularity of the striking story which it relates. In the version given from the Cotton MS. by Ritson in his Ancient Songs (vol. ii. p. 38, ed. 1829) the husband takes no vengeance on Captain Car. Another version, entitled Loudoun Castle, is reprinted in Child's English and Scottish Ballads (vol. vi. p. 254), from the Ballads and Songs of Ayrshire, where the scene is changed to Loudoun Castle, which is supposed to have been burnt about three hundred and sixty years ago by the clan Kennedy. In Ritson's version the castle is called Crechcrynbroghe, and in the Genealogy of the Forbes, by Matthew Lumsden, of Tullikerne, written in 1580 (Inverness, 1819, p. 44), the name is changed to Cargaffe. From this latter source we learn that the lady of Towie was Margaret Campbell, daughter of Sir John Campbell, of Calder, and that the husband, far from flying into the flames, married a second wife, a daughter of Forbes of Reires, who bare him a son named Arthur.]
Quhen the wind blew shril and cauld,
Said Edom o' Gordon to his men,
We maun draw till a hauld.
My mirry men and me?
We wul gae to the house o' the Rodes,
To see that fair ladÌe.
Beheld baith dale and down:10
There she was ware of a host of men
Cum ryding towards the toun.
O see ye nat quhat I see?
Methinks I see a host of men:15
I marveil quha they be.
As he cam ryding hame;
It was the traitor Edom o' Gordon,
Quha reckt nae sin nor shame.20
And putten on hir goun,
But Edom o' Gordon and his men
Were round about the toun.
Nae sooner said the grace,
But Edom o' Gordon and his men,
Were light about the place.
Sa fast as she could hie,30
To see if by hir fair speechÈs
She could wi' him agree.
And hir yates
He fell into a rage of wrath,35
And his look was all aghast.
Cum doun, cum doun to me:
This night sall ye lig
To-morrow my bride sall be.40
I winnae cum doun to thee;
I winnae forsake my ain dear lord,
That is sae far frae me.
Give owre your house to me,
Or I sall brenn
Bot and
To nae sik traitor as yee;50
And if ye brenn my ain dear babes,
My lord sall make ye drie.
And charge ye weil my gun:[659]
For, but an
My babes we been undone.
And let twa bullets flee:[659]
She mist that bluidy butchers hart,
All wood wi' dule
Fals lady, ye sail rue this deid,
As ye bren in the fire.
I paid ye weil your fee;
Quhy pu' ye out the ground-wa' stane.
Lets in the reek
I paid ye weil your hire;70
Quhy pu' ye out the ground-wa stane,
To me lets in the fire?
Ye paid me weil my fee:
But now I'm Edom o' Gordons man,75
Maun either doe or die.
Sate on the nurses knee:
Sayes, Mither deare, gi' owre this house,
For the reek it smithers me.80
Sae wald I a' my fee,
For ane blast o' the western wind,
To blaw the reek frae thee.
She was baith jimp
O row
And tow me
And towd hir owre the wa:90
But on the point of Gordons spear,
She gat a deadly fa.
And cherry were hir cheiks,
And clear clear was hir yellow hair,95
Whereon the reid bluid dreips.
O gin hir face was wan!
He sayd, ye are the first that eir
I wisht alive again.100
O gin hir skin was whyte![670]
I might ha spared that bonnie face
To hae been sum mans delyte.
For ill dooms I doe guess;
I cannae luik in that bonnie face,
As it lyes on the grass.
Then freits wil follow thame:[672]110
Let it neir be said brave Edom o' Gordon
Was daunted by a dame.
Cum flaming owre hir head,
She wept and kist her children twain,115
Sayd, Bairns, we been but dead.
And said, Awa', awa';
This house o' the Rodes is a' in flame,
I hauld it time to ga'.120
As hee cam owr the lee;
He sied
Sa far as he could see.
And all his hart was wae;
Put on, put on, my wighty men,
So fast as ye can gae.
Sa fast as ye can drie;
For he that is hindmost of the thrang,
Sall neir get guid o' me.
Fou fast out-owr the bent;
But eir the foremost could get up,135
Baith lady and babes were brent.
And wept in teenefu' muid:
O traitors, for this cruel deid
Ye sall weep teirs o'bluid.140
?
[The following is the version of the ballad in the Percy Folio, which is entitled Captaine Carre. Bishop Percy's Folio MS., ed. J. W. Hales and F. J. Furnivall, 1867, vol. i., pp. 79-83.
whereas you like the best,
Unto the castle of Bittons borrow,
and there to take your rest.
is made of lyme and stone,
Yonder is in it a fayre lady,
her lord is ridden and gone.
she looked upp and downe,
She was ware of an hoast of men
came rydinge towards the towne.
and see you not what I doe see?
Methinks I see a hoast of men
I muse who they shold be.
he had come ryding home:
it was the traitor, Captaine Carre
the Lord of Westerton towne
and after said the grace
but the traitor Captaine Carre
was light about the place.
I will make thee a band [i.e. bond]
all night within mine armes thoust lye,
to-morrow be the heyre of my land.
neither for ladds nor man,
nor yet for traitor Captaine Carre,
Untill my lord come home.
and charge you well my gunne,
Ile shoote at the bloody bucher
the lord of westerton.
and let the bulletts flee,
and where shee mist....
[Half a page missing.]
that sate on the nurses knee,
saies, mother deere, give ore this house
for the smoake it smoothers me.
soe wold I doe all my fee,
for one blast of the westerne wind
to blow the smoke from thee.
came flaming ore her head,
She tooke them upp her children two
Sayes, babes we all beene dead!
a sorrowfull sight to see:
now hath he burned this lady faire
and eke her children three
he staid noe longer at that tide,
he thought that place it was to warme
soe neere for to abide
bidd them make hast away
for we have slaine his children three
all, and his lady gay.
to loudon
his castle and his hall was burned
all and his lady gay.
More dearer unto him
then either the silver or the gold
that men soe faine wold win.
Lord in is hart he was woe!
saies, I will find thee, Captain Carre,
wether thou ryde or goe!
with tempered swords of steele,
for till I have found out Captaine Carre,
My hart it is nothing weele.
soe long ere it was day,
and ther he found him, Captaine Carre;
that night he ment to stay.]
[Half a page missing.]
FOOTNOTES:
"This inhuman and barbarous cruelty made his name odious, and stained all his former doings; otherwise he was held very active and fortunate in his enterprizes."
This fact, which had escaped the Editor's notice, was in the most obliging manner pointed out to him by an ingenious writer who signs his name H. H. (Newcastle, May 9) in the Gentleman's Magazine for May, 1775.
THE END OF THE FIRST BOOK.
RELIQUES OF ANCIENT POETRY, ETC.
SERIES THE FIRST.
