CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT FUND GIVEN IN 1891 BY HENRY WILLIAMS SAGE Holroyd’s collection of Yorkshire ballad o iL V4“ NORAVED FROM A PrHOTOGRAPIT BY WILTIAM OVEREND GiKILER HOLROYD’S COLLECTION OF Workshire Ballads. WITH SOME REMARKS ON BALLAD LORE BY W. J. KAYE, M.A. AND A LIFE OF ABRAHAM HOLROYD BY WILLIAM SCRUTON. EDITED BY CHAS. F. FORSHAW, LL.D. EDIOR YORKSHIRE SONNETEERS,”’ “YORKSHIRE POETS, PAST AND PRESENT.” EPG. BPC. Lonpon: GrorGE BELL & Sons, York STREET, Covent GARDEN. Hees fe) BRADFORD: PRINTED BY THORNTON _AND PEARSON, THE COLLEGE PRESS, 56, BARKEREND ROAD, TO GEORGE ACKROYD, Esq. JP. A TRUE POET, A NOBLE PATRON, A SINCERE FRIEND, AND AN UPRIGHT CHRISTIAN GENTLEMAN, EREWITH I tend the fruit of many pens— Rare gems of Yorkshire’s choicest poesy ! Rich buds by our loved county’s denizens ! Famed flowers forenamed for fairest fragrancy. And I am glad—for well I know thy soul Rejoiceth at old Yorkshire’s deeds of might ! And he who culled these blossoms of delight Would joy with us to know that on Time’s scroll His name is writ. He laboured not in vain— For now the products of long, weary ages, The wit, the wisdom of our bygone sages Are here to teach, amuse, and entertain. And it would please his inmost heart to know That I to thee these records would bestow. Evrror, PREFACE. VERY few prefatory remarks are needful, as anything I might say on ballads and ballad lore, would be quite superfluous after Mr. Kaye’s brief, but poignant, article thereon. It is mainly through the munificent generosity of Mr. George Ackroyd, J.P.—a valued friend of Mr. Holroyd’s—that these ballads, which he collected from almost all available sources, are now before the public—and Mr. Ackroyd will ever receive the warmest thanks of all true-hearted literary men, that these records of Mr. Holroyd’s research have been given to posterity in volume form. After Mr. Holroyd’s death Mr. Ackroyd, who, as is well-known, is one of Bradford’s sweetest poets, composed the following beautiful and touching tribute to his memory :— gn AMemoriam. ABRAHAM HOLROYD, JANUARY IST, 1888. “Gone to the life beyond,” ‘Where sorrows are unknown, Where loving hearts to hearts respond, And worship near the throne, Preface. No pain nor sickness there, No weariness of age— Gone every sigh and every care OF this world’s pilgrimage. Another life begun, ‘Where pleasures never cease— No shadows of a setting sun, But light, and joy, and peace. Then shall we mourn thee gone ? Thy earthly travail o’er ? Ah, no! the thought be ours alone, “Not lost, but gone before.” January 22nd, 1888, No apology is necessary for its quotation. -A large number of gentlemen, hearing that the work was in pro- gress, sent in their names for copies. Among these may be mentioned the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Right Hon. the Marquis of Lorne, and the Trustees of the British Museum. To Mr. Kaye for his remarks on ‘‘ Ballad Lore,’? and to Mr. Scruton for his sanction to insert his biography of Mr. Holroyd, my thanks are specially due. wee. Cee oe WINDER HovusE, BRADFORD, 6th August, 1892. Some Remarks on Ballad Lore. By WALTER J. KAYE, M.A. PRINCIPAL OF ILKLEY COLLEGE, YORKSHIRE; EDITOR ‘ LEADING POETS OF SCOTLAND,” THERE appears to be little doubi in the minds of most writers on ballad lore that in former times, before the daysof chronicler, historian, or poet- laureate, ballads served as a convenient method of recording the stir- ring annals of all countries. Whether a recital of public events, or marked episodes in domestic life, were needed, the ballad was found a ready vehicle for its safe transmission to generations following. In the early period the story in simple verse of the heroic deeds of our forefathers, their love of the family hearth and prowess dis- played in its defence, roused up a martial ardour. The wandering bard oft composed on the spot an impromptu weaving of the simple tale. His ballads embodied too the manners and customs, and modes of thought of the period. The word ballad is derived from the French baller, to dance, and thus meant originally in all probability a song ac- companied by dancing to the minstrel’s harp. But in more recent times, it became the technical term for an old fashioned French poem. It now no longer preserves to us the rehearsal of valorous deeds. But of stories of the wonderful and the wild, of s:ntiment and passion toc, these simple versifyings became an accepted means of conveyance. Pleasing by their quaintness, and exciting admiration by their rude homely vigour and rugged directness of diction, ballads were readily cominitted to memory by the professional reciter, minstrel and bard. The happy reciter of ballads was ever a welcome guest at the festive board in the good old times of our ancestors. Some writers conclude that ballads have been from one age cg bards to another thus handed down since the 11th or rath century. But what nation in Europe has not its ballads, its popular rhymes, always fresh with cacu rising generation? We Ballad Lore, by W. J. Kaye, M.A. find themi everywhere,—in Greece, Turkey, Russia, Italy, the German Fatherland, Provence, Brittany, and in our own Islands. In this country Lancashire takes a prominent position, and Yorkshire is a keen competitor with its ballad lore. Are we able by any known data to certify on reasonable grounds the authors of our own country’s ballads, or to fix upon the exact period of their origin with reasonable approach to certainty? Mr. Andrew Lang says, ‘‘It is natural to conclude that our ballads were first improvised and circulated in rustic dances." Thus they have without doubt descended to us from the far off past, and from days of simplicity, untrammelled by modern culture. It is worthy of remark that the same topics, the same personifying of natural objects, the same ideas, constantly recur in the ballad lore of Eastern and Western Europe. This shows at any rate a strong family likeness, and seems almost to betray a common parentage. Collections of our national ballads have been made at different times. Notable amongst these are Bishop Percy’s ‘ Reliques,’ Evans’s ‘Old Ballads, Historical and Narrative,’ and Ritson’s ‘ Ancient Songs from the time of Henry III.’ Pinkerton, Jamieson and Finlay have collected the Scottish Ballads ; and Sir Walter Scott has immortalised the ‘ Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border,’ ILKtry CoLLecr, VoRKSHIRE, 25th July, 1892. LIFE OF ABRAHAM HOLROYD. By WILLIAM SCRUTON, AUTHOR OF ‘*THE BIRTHPLACE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE; ” “PEN AND PENCIL PICTURES OF OLD BRADFORD;”’ ETC. THE following article, from the pen of Mr. Scruton, appeared in the “ Bradford Weekly Telegraph” for January 7th, 1888, and by Mr. Scruton’s kind permission it is reproduced in these pages. “There are few names in the modern literary annals of Yorkshire more familiar than that which forms the subject of the present sketch, and no apology can therefore be necessary for the prominence which is given to it in this issue of the ‘ Weekly Telegraph.’ “Stern death, which comes at last to all, came on Sunday morning last to a ‘worthy’ whose name will be bound up in the history of Bradford as long as that history endures. But the ‘dread angel’ had no terrors for Abraham Holroyd. His religion (for he was profoundly religious) was of a practical kind that gave him much happiness in life, and brought him consolation and courage when face to face with death, And now ‘ After life’s fitful fever he sleeps well.’ ‘It has been my pleasure and privilege too, to be intimately acquainted with Mr. Holroyd for more than a quarter of a century. In my own antiquarian pursuits I have often been indebted to him for guidance and help, which were ever given freely and unstintedly, for he was indeed generous to a fault. As the years rolled on, the acquaintanceship gave place to a close and enduring friendship, and as a friend I found him firm and true. “Mr. Holroyd’s career had been an eventful and interesting one, and while in conversation with him he sometimes let fall snatches of it, enough to satisfy me that it was one well worthy of being ‘placed on record.’ When I first ventured to hint this to him he did not seem to fall in with it very cordially, but after a while he broached the subject himself, and, to my delight, said that, as soon as he could find time, he io . Life of Abraham Holroyd. would sit down and write out, to the best of his ability, and the powers of his memory, the story of his life. The making of a promise was with Mr. Holroyd as good as its fulfilment, for he was ever a ‘man of his word.’ And so it came to pass that, after a little patient waiting, I had put into my hands one day a well-written manuscript in Mr. Holroyd’s handwriting, of which the following is a copy. ‘I was born at the village of Clayton, near Bradford, on the 2nd of April, 1815. My father’s name was Isaac Holroyd, and he was born and brought up at a place called Storres, near Thornton Heights. My mother was descended from the Barkers of Clayton on the father’s side, and on that of the mother from the Northorps of Bradford-dale. They were both handloom weavers, and as soon as my legs were long enough to reach the treadles they set me to work at the same employment. I received no education at school except one summer my grandfather Holroyd paid threepence a week for me, when I learnt to read, This was at the old Village School, Clayton. My parents were too poor to do anything, as they had four little ones all younger than myself, yet though we were so poor, our family was very much respected and I never knew of anyone saying a bad word of anyof us. I picked up my skill in writing at home, practising from slips or copies set for me by a cousin. When I was seventeen years of age I began to pen short poems and rhymes, and these being very much admired, Mr. Wardman, of Bradford, printed a few of them in 1834. In the mean- time my father died, and I, still working as a weaver, was employed first by Mr. J. Ackroyd, of Halifax, and then by Mr. Richard Fawcett, of Bradford. Wages, however, in 1836, had become so low that I determined to enter the army and give up weaving. I had been. pulled off sixpence a time in six weeks, and so on the 5th of November of” that year I enlisted at Leeds into the 32nd Regiment of Foot, then stationed at Montreal, in Canada. On the next day I was sworn before a magistrate at Leeds, and in a day or two I was sent off with others by way of steam packet at Hull to London. Afterwards I was sent by packet to Plymouth to join the depét of my regiment. Here in the George’s Square Barracks I learnt my drill, and in June, 1837, started in the barque Rajah for Quebec, Capt. Birtwhistle—a Skipton man—in command of about a hundred of us recruits. ‘*When at home in Clayton I had only been able to buy about four books, and these were small volumes for the pocket, with one exception. The books were ‘Ossian’s Poems,’ ‘Burns’ Poems,’ ‘Franklin’s Works,’ and ‘The Pilgrim’s Progress.’ The large book was ‘Pope’s Works,’ with Homer's Iliad and Odyssy. I found some of the recruits on board the ship great scholars. One of them had been educated at Queen’s College, Dublin, and he was a man of prodigious memory. Wn the long and dreary voyage he taught me By William Scruton. it much for which I am truly thankful. But he was, alas! though the best of friends, a slave to drink. ‘At the end of July we reached the St. Lawrence, and passing ‘Quebec were sent on by steamboat to Montreal. I was placed in the 4th Company, and had scarcely got settled ere the news of the death of William the Fourth arrived and the accession of Queen Victoria announced. Troubles were brewing in the Legislature of the Colony and open rebellion was threatened. In January I was sent, along with thirteen others, to secure a bridge over the St. John’s River, north of Montreal. Here we stayed two weeks, then met with some rebels at St. Eustache, and a force having come up, an attack was made, and the wooden church and nearly the whole town was burnt to the ground, as well as Grand Brule, another large village. We then returned with almost a hundred prisoners to Montreal, where many of them were executed. My comrade and bed-fellow during the cold weather was shot in the forehead and killed. At the beginning of this action I was told off to the ammunition guard. As soon as we got to Montreal my company was ordered off to Upper Canada, and we travelled in sleighs, with horses, post haste on the ice to Lake Ontario, where we took a steamer for Kingston, but only stayed there long enough to give a man a hundred lashes with the cat o’ nine tails for smashing his musket when drunk in a sleigh. Taking steamer again, we were soon at Toronto. From thence we sailed to Hamilton. Thence in sleighs to Ancaster and Brantford. Here arrests were daily made of rebels, the whole being lodged in the jail of that town—I doing duty every second day and night. After the trials were over thirteen men were hanged one morning on one scaffold—a sickening sight. A few days after my company marched to St. Thomas, and the rebellion being ended we were quiet fora time, A lady whom I had befriended by getting her an interview with her husband—a prisoner—met me in the street and with great kindness introduced me to the best people in the place. Her husband had been acquitted as innocent. A gentleman, a friend of hers, offered to advance me £29 to buy my discharge from the army. I to attend a sick son of his for a year and drive him about in their carriage. - I therefore bought my discharge, but before the end of the year the young man died, and my master sold all his property and emigrated to Illinois, I going with him and his wife to drive and help in anything that might be needed. On passing through Michigan I took the ague from the swampy state of the land at that time, and in a while, when the summer came on, I became very ill. I was advised to go south to get quit of the ague, and my master, having been appointed Probate Judge of the County, I was sorry to leave Rockford, the place where he had ‘settled.’ Sick and salivated with quinine I started on foot to Chicago--then a town of only one street. 12 Life of Abraham Holroyd. Striking south I tramped towards the Mississippi river, and after many days of travelling through that lonely state, I arrived at Peoria, and found a small steamer ready to sail down to St. Louis. Going on board I got to that city after much delay, caused by the low state of the water. Taking steamer at St. Louis I got to New Orleans in eight days, with two dollars in my pocket, which however, were stolen that night from my clothes (though under my pillow) at the house where I had put up to lodge. There I was then, in a strange city, sick, and with no money. The landlord of the lodging-house advised me to go to the Charity Hospital until I got well. I went and was admitted. In eight days I was discharged cured, and left to seek a living—I knew not where. For three days] had nothing to eat except some bits of apples which had been thrown out from a steamer as damaged. At night I hid myself away in new buildings in the course of erection. On the fourth day a gentleman gave me a job to help in removing his furniture, and I pleased him so that he offered me money: as much as I might need until I could get some settled employment, I took an empty room, furnished it, and in about two months obtained regular employment with a respectable firm of merchants.» There was always plenty for me to do, for at least the winter half of the year. My leisure hours I spent in studies, reading the best books I could borrow, and watching the manners of the people amongst whom my lot seemed to be cast. ‘In the previous years I had gained much knowledge of mankind, and the earth-mounds of the west had interested me much, and created in me a love of the ancient in every thing I saw or read of— hence my love for antiquarian pursuits during the after part of my life. The company I kept was always the best I could find everywhere, and I found in the American people—-both North and South—warm hands and loving hearts, without one exception, amongst those whom I became acquainted with, and I shall ever remember both the people and the country with feelings of sincere affection. ‘In 1846 I married Miss Amelia Jenkyn, of St. Stephen’s-in- Bramwell, Cornwall. She had lately come with a relation to the city. The clergyman who married us was the Rev. Chas. Goodrich, Rector of St. Paul’s, New Orleans. He was a brother of the famous Peter Farley, the author of books for young people. When I had been eight years in my situation my health gave way with the heat of the climate, and I was obliged to resign it. My English doctor told me that I must return to my native country if I would save my life. I and Mrs. Holroyd, therefore, took passage home in May, 1851, and arrived at Liverpool on the roth July. After a visit to the great exhibition, London, we proceeded to Cornwall, where Mrs. Holroyd remained with her parents for a time, while I went forward By Wilhiam Scruton, 13 to Bradford to establish myself in some business. For some time after my arrival in this town my cousin, John Tyas, gave me a home with him. He resided at the top of Westgate, and I soon got a shop—some four yards square-—opposite the old Zoar Chapel. Here I started business in real good earnest. .Mr. William Cook, of Vicar Lane, supplied me with most of what I needed in the way of stationery, periodicals, &c., and the newspapers I got from the publishers. This was in October, 1851. In 1853-54 I published by subscription a large view of Saltaire, but when the engraving was ready, after six months’ delay, many of the subscribers were dead or gone away, and I was some £15 short of paying the £63 due for the engraving and printing of it. In my dilemma I wrote to Sir (then Mr.) Titus Salt, and he sent for me, and after I had told him of my luck, he gave me a cheque. for the engraver and printer, and I handed over to him all the money Thad received. This was my first introduction to Mr. Salt, and ever after he stood by me in whatever I took up. He was to me evera staunch and true friend. With the shop I had terrible hard struggling to keep my head above water, and my little family increasing, it was at the time fearful hard uphill work, as we say in Yorkshire. In 1854, I determined to strike out in a new direction in the way of publishing. I printed “ Eldwick Glen,” a crude poem of my own, and soon sold them all. This made me better known, and helped my custom with the new acquaintance. “‘The few literary men then in Bradford called on me, such as John James, Ben Preston, Edward Sloane, Stephen Fawcett, Edward Collinson, and a host of others, whose names would fill a column. Here, about the year 1858, I compiled a little book with the quaint title of ‘Spice Islands passed in the Sea of Reading.’ This took well also; and thus encouraged, I took heart, and began to push in the newspapers every good work going on in Bradford, praising the literary efforts of my townsmen, and when opportunity occurred I drew attention to the antiquities of my beloved town of Bradford, and the surrounding district. Almost everything I wrote had my full name at the end. I also tried to give the chapter and verse for all that I sent, for my chief ambition was to be understood by the common people. ‘«T now began as publisher and editor in earnest. The following is a pretty full list of my projects :—‘ The Cottage in the Wood,’ by the Rev. Patrick Bronté, 1859. ‘T’ Spicy Man,’ ‘T’ Creakin’ Gate,’ ‘Natterin’ Nan,’ ‘T’Maister 9’ t’ Haase,’ these all in 1859, and by my friend Ben Preston. Then ‘The Philosophy of Lord Bacon,’ by John James, F.S.A. ‘ The Life of Joseph Lister, of Bradford,’ and ‘The Rider of the White Horse,’ 1860. In this year I began the ‘Bradford Historical Almanack,’ which I continued for six years, I 14 Life of Abraham Holroyd. also in 1860 (October) started ‘ The Bradfordian,’ (a repository of local talent,) which came out for 27 months, when I was forced to stop, as its publication was bringing me to poverty and heaping difficulties on me pecuniarily. This work gave me the most pleasure of anything I ever did in my life. It brought me into contact with the best men and women of the time then in Bradford and the vicinity. In 1863 I pub- lished ‘The Physical Geography of Bradford,’ &c., by Louis Miall. Also in 1864 the ‘ Poems and Songs of Ben Preston.’ These sold off at once, and made me acquainted with the Rev. S. Baring-Gould, and he asked me to assist him in collecting for his book, the Yorkshire Oddities,’ which I did. I also had much to write to and for the late Thomas Wright, F.S.A. I then proposed the publishing of my ‘Collectanea,’ and My good friend the late Sir Titus Salt promised to stand by me until I chose to stop. This he did. For what occurred after this had gone on for some time, see my introduction to the said ‘Collectanea,’ which I was not able to complete in book form until 1873. After removing to Saltaire I wrote the little work, ‘ Saltaire and its Founder’ of which there have been sold four editions of, in all, 3,500 copies. Nearly all my others were 1,000 editions, flamed pre- viously. I wish to add that the people of Bradford, in 1868, presented me with £63 on leaving for Saltaire. HARMONY COTTAGE. ‘‘In 1873 I edited and published at Saltaire also ‘A Garland of Poetry by Yorkshire Authors’ (collected specimens of nearly a hundred writers of my native county), a work which has been greatly admired. I dedicated it to my dear friend Mr. George Ackroyd, By William Scruton. 18° Mehta ne ee ee fekties eercee ee “In 1874, old age creeping on, I retired from business to Eldwick on a small income, where I hope to spend the few remaining days of my life in peace, and in preparation for the entry into another and a better life. # * * * * * ‘« Little remains to be added to this simple story of a well-spent life. During his brief residence at Eldwick in the small but comfortable house which he had built there (which, by the way, he thought of calling the ‘ Hermitage,’ but finally gave it the more appropriate name ‘ Harmony Cottage’) he employed himself in cultivating his bit of ‘garden ; corresponding with literary friends, and in contributing to local and other journals choice articles from his rich archzological treasure- house. The old love of country was strong within him, and here he found pure nature in her various aspects. His books were rivers, woods and skies, The meadow and the moor. ‘“‘The summit of Gilstead Moor was, howeve1, too cold and exposed for Mrs. Holroyd, who was a native of Cornwall, and Harmony Cottage had to be abandoned as a place of residence. Of late years Mr. and Mrs. Holroyd resided with a married daughter— Mrs. Thornton—at Shipley, and here it was that the venerable author and antiquary closed his career, happily surrounded with every comfort. His spirit passed away to the ‘Better Land’ as peacefully and as quietly ‘As the dawn glides into day.’ “Much of the good work done by Mr. Holroyd in literature and archzology is not alluded to in the narrative that he has left us of his career. He was too modest a man to say much of himself, and moreover he Jaboured more to exalt others than himself. Many other of his literary ventures might be mentioned if space allowed. But perhaps this were needless, for are they not already chronicled in the annals of Yorkshire literature? As a publisher he was most industrious, but as a writer hardly less so. ‘‘From the stores of a ripe intellect and with a well informed mind, he contributed many interesting papers to local journals. “If from his restricted means he was unable to take great projects in hand, he was untiring in his efforts to do everything that fairly came within his grasp, hence there is scarcely a chapter of local history with which the name of Abraham Holroyd is not associated. ‘“Mr. Holroyd possessed a keen and intelligent appreciation of good poetry. An ardent admirer of our English ballads, he collected during a long course of years, nearly three hundred choice ballads and songs belonging to Yorkshire alone, 16 Life of Abraham Holroyd. “Mr. Holroyd was a genuine antiquary, but not of the type that sees no merit ina book beyond its antiquity or scarcity. He was too liberal-minded to believe that a book is valueless because it might not happen to be one of a first edition, or that its real worth is depreciated by its abundance or its free and unrestricted circulation among the book-reading public. For the good work that he has done in popularising, by means of cheap reprints, works of a scarce and costly character, he is deserving of public gratitude. ‘©The remains were interred on Wednesday in the burial ground of St. John’s Church, Clayton. The funeral, which was of a semi- private character, was only attended by the deceased’s most intimate friends. A short service was conducted at the residence, prior to leaving for Clayton, by Mr. Mitchell, a member of the New Church (Swedenborgian), Saltaire, of which Mr. Holroyd was one of the founders. Shortly before one o’clock the cortege left for Clayton, and was attended by the Rev. Mr. Rendell (Bradford), and Messrs. Dyson, Armitage, and Stephenson, representing the New Church at Saltaire; and a few local antiquarians, including Mr. W. Scruton, Mr. Wm. Cudworth, and Mr. J. H. Turner. The coffin was made of polished pitch pine, and was borne by a hearse, followed by mourning coaches containing the relatives of the deceased. Mr. T. T. Empsall, the president of the Bradford Historical and Antiquarian Society, and a number of Clayton friends, joined in the procession at that place. The burial service was performed at the church and at the grave side by the Rev. J. E. Gerrard. A beautiful floral cross was placed on the coffin by Mr. George Ackroyd, one of the deceased’s oldest friends.” PLACE BALLADS. Sheffield is a Wonderful Gown, 6! Air—All among the leaves so green, 0! Lavtes and gentles all, I am ready at your call, To sing a little song, And I will not keep you long, About the sights of this wonderful town, O! In Sheffield’s praise, tune my lays, For what ’tis famed shall soon be named, T’ll tell, don’t doubt it, all about it, Hey down, ho down, derry derry down, Sheffield is a wonderful town, O! For cutlery so famed None with Sheffield can be named, Where the people all their lives, Are making razors, scissors, knives, In this very wonderful town, O! Lots of files, all in piles ; Stones go round, razors ground; Friday quick, goes boring stick ; Saturday get your pay, Then regale yourselves with ale. Hey down, etc. Next the market-place survey, When round comes the market day ; And there such sights you'll see That, with me, you will agree, This Sheffield is a wonderful town, O! Lots of stalls against the walls, Make your rambles through the shambles, Beef and mutton, stuff a glutton, Butchers cry, ‘Who'll buy ?’ Dogs and asses, pretty lasses, If you gain Campo-lane, Neville’s ale, bright and pale, You will find to your mind. Hey down, etc. 20 Holroya’s Collection of Yorkshire Ballads. Next a lawyer ’mongst you came, Lawyer Applebee, his name, He could get you all estates, Fill your pockets and your plates, For the good of this wonderful town, O ! Points of law, well did draw, House and land did understand; Took the chaise various ways Law profession took possession, With a nod took up a sod, In he lets, sweepy bets, Gets your brass, then, alas! Off he waddles, then he schedules, Hey down, etc. In the church-yard all the people Are gazing at the steeple, Where the man, to point the spire, Is each moment getting higher, To amuse you in this wonderful town, O! From the crate shows his pate, See him climb, with stone and lime, ‘Lord! how high,’ people cry, I'd rather he was there than me; By gauls, if he falls. Hey down, etc. Last the playhouse in this street, Where your favourites you greet, And where actors, funny folks, Make you laugh with cracking jokes For the joy of this wonderful town, O! Act away, all so gay, Sights so funny, for your money, Believe not me, but come and sec; Bell ringing, actor singing, Then you roar encore, Hey down, ho down, derry derry down, Sheffield is a wonderful town, O! This song was written in the early part of the present century, and is preserved in a three-volume work, entitled: ‘The Universal Songster, or museum of mirth,”’ No date, but printed at the Ballan- Ldited by Chas. F. Forshaw, LL.D. 2t tine Press, Edinburgh, by Ballantine and Hanson. It would appear to have been originally published in parts, and every part is illustrited on the front by George and Robert Cruikshank. The song was evi- dently intended to be sung on the stage ; hence the allusions to local matters and local persons. Mother Shipton. To the tune of Varney Dawson. Or all the pretty pantomimes That have been seen or sung in rhymes, Since famous Johnny Rich’s times, There’s none like Mother Shipton. She pleases folks of every class, She makes her swans and ducklings pass, She shows her hog, she shows her ass, Oh, charming Mother Shipton ! Near to the famous dropping well, She first drew breath, as records tell, And had good beer and ale to sell As ever tongue was tipt on; Her dropping well itself is scen, Quaint goblins hobble round their queen, And little fairies tread the green, Called forth by Mother Shipton. Oh, London is a charming place, Yet grumble not ye critick race, Tho’ Mansion House is seen to grace The streets in Mother Shipton. You think a blunder you decry, Yet you might see with half an eye ’Tis Mother Shipton’s prophecy, - Oh, charming Mother Shipton. Come, jolly tars and sailors staunch, Oh, come with us and see the launch, ’Twill feast your eyes, and fill your paunch, As done by Mother Shipton, 22 Holrayd’s Collection of Forkshire Ballads. The shores give way, the hulk that prop— Huzza! the ship is launched—and pop! *Tis turned into a baker’s shop, Oh, charming Mother Shipton. Then after several wonders past, To Yorkshire all return at last, And in a coal pit they are cast, Oh, wondrous Mother Shipton, Yet she redeems them every soul: And here’s the moral of the whole— ’Tis Mother Shipton brings the coal, Oh, charming Mother Shipton. It is difficult, at this day, to understand some of the allusions in the above ballad. It is quite possible they may be explained in some of the prophecies attributed to her pen or tongue. Dr. Ingledew ap- pends this note to the song :—‘“ Tradition tells us that near the Drop- ping Well, at Knaresborough, this famous sybil was born, about the year 1487. She married Tobias Shipton, a carpenter, of Shipton, near York, and from this mateh derived the name of Mother Shipton. Many tales of her skill in futurity are still related in the country; the whole of which, including a series of succeeding events, are stated to have been delivered to the Abbott of Beverley, as in the following :— ‘©A maiden queen full many a year, Shall England’s warlike sceptre bear.”’ Spoken of Queen Elizabeth, that was beloved by her subjects, and dreaded by her enemies, above forty years. ‘‘ The western monarch’s wooden horses, Shall be destroyed by Drake’s forces.” The King of Spain’s mighty armada in 1588 was destroyed by the English Fleet. “Triumphant death rides London through, And men on tops of houses go.”’ The first line points to the great plague in London in 1665; the second to the great fire in the year after. This famous prophetess died in the fifty-ninth year of her age, and fulfilling her own prediction even to the day and the hour. On her tomb was placed this epitaph :— Here lies she who seldom ly’d, Whose skill so often has been try’d, Her prophesies shall still survive, And ever keep her name alive, Edited by Chas. F. Forshaw, LL.D. 23 Athelgiva. A LEGENDARY BALLAD OF WHITBY ABBEY. By WILLIAM WATKINS. ‘‘ HERE may’st thou rest, my sister dear, Securely here abide ; Here royal Edelfleda lived, Here pious Hilda died. “Here peace and quict ever dwell : Here fear no rude alarms ; Nor here is heard the trumpet’s sound, Nor here the din of arms!” With voice composed and look serene, (Whilst her soft hand he press’d) The maid who trembled on his arm, Young Edwy thus address’d. Blue gleam’d the steel in Edwy’s hand, The warrior’s vest he bore ; For now the Danes by Hubba led, Had ravaged half the shore. His summons at the Abbey gate The ready porter hears ; And soon in veil and holy garb, The Abbess kind appears. ‘‘O take this virgin to thy care, Good angels be your guard ; And may the saints in heaven above That pious care reward. ‘For we by fierce barbarian hands Are driven from our home; And three long days and nights forlorn, The dreary wastes we roam. ‘‘But I must go—these towers to save ; Beneath the evening shade, I haste to seek Earl Osrick’s power, And call Lord Redwald’s aid.” 24 Holroyvd’s Collection of Forkshire Ballads. He said—and turn’d his ready foot ; The Abbess nought replies ; But with a look that spoke her grief, To heaven upcast her eyes. Then turning to the stranger dame— ““O welcome to this place ; For never Whitby’s holy fane Did fairer maiden grace.” And true she said—for on her cheek Was seen young beauty’s bloom, Though grief, with slow and wasting stealth, Did then her prime consume. Her shape was all that thought can frame, Of elegance and grace ; And heav’n the beauties of her mind Reflected in her face. “My daughter, lay aside thy fears,” Again the matron cry’d, “No Danish ravishers come here,” Again the Virgin sigh’d. The Abbess saw, the Abbess knew, "T'was love that shook her breast ; And thus, in accents soft and mild, The mournful maid addrest. “‘ My daughter dear, as to thy friend, Be all thy care confest ; I see ’tis love disturbs thy mind, And wish to give thee rest. “ But hark! I hear the vesper bell, Now summons us to prayer; That duty done, with needful food Thy wasted strength repair.” But now the pitying mournful muse Of Edwy’'s hap shall tell ; And what amid his nightly walk, That gallant youth befell. For journeying by the bank of Esk He took his lonely way ; And now through showers of driving rain His erring footsteps stray. Ldited by Chas. F. Forshaw, LL.D. 28 At length, from far, a glimmering light Trembled among the trees: And entering soon a moss-built hut, A holy man he sees. “O father, deign a luckless youth This night with thee to shield ; I am no robber, though my arm This deadly weapon wield,” ‘“‘T fear no robber, stranger, here, For I have nought to lose ; And thou may’st safely through the night In this poor cell repose. ‘*And thou art welcome to my hut,” The holy man replied ; “ Still welcome here is he whom fate Has left without a guide. “Whence and what art thou, gentle youth?” The noble Edwy said “‘T go to rouse Earl Osrick’s power, And seek Lord Redwald’s aid. “‘ My father is a wealthy lord, Who now with Alfred stays ; And me he left to guard his seat, Whilst he his duty pays. “« But vain the hope—in dead of night The cruel spoiler came ; And o’er each neighbouring castle threw The wide devouring flame. “ To shun.its rage at early dawn, I with my sister fled ; And Whitby’s Abbey now affords A shelter to her head. ‘Whilst I, to hasten promiscd aids, Range wildly through the night, And, with impatient mind, expect The mornings friendly light.” Thus Edwy spoke, and wondering, gazed Upon his friendly host, For in his form beam'd manly grace, Untouched by age’s frost. 26 Holroyd’s Collection of Korkshire Ballads. The hermit sigh’d, and thus he said, ‘‘ Know, there was once a day, This tale of thine would fire my heart, And bid me join thy way. “ But luckless love dejects my soul, And casts my spirits down ; Thou seest the wretch of woman’s pride, Of follies not my own. ‘I once amid my sovereign’s train Was a distinguish’d youth, But blighted in my former fame, By sorrow’s cankering tooth. “When Etheldred the crown did hold, I to this district came ; And then a fair and matchless maid First raised in me a flame. “Her father was a noble lord, Of an illustrious race, Who joined to rustic honesty The courtiers gentle grace. “°Twas then I told my artless tale, By love alone inspired ; For never was my honest speech In flattering guise attired. “* At first she heard, or seem’d to hear, The voice of tender love ; But soon, the ficklest of her sex, Did she deceitful prove. ‘She drove me scornful from her sight, Rejected and disdain’d ; In vain did words for pity plead, In vain my looks complain’d. ‘“‘ How could that breast which pity fill’d, Ever relentless be ? How could that face which smiled on all, Have ever frowns for me ? ‘« Since that fell hour I in this cell Have lived recluse from man ; And twice ten months have pass’d since I The hermits life began.” Ledited by Chas. F. Forshaw, LL.D, 29 “O stain to honour! Edwy cry’d; O foul disgrace to arms! What, when thy country claims thy aid, And shakes with wars alarms, Cans’t thou, inglorious, here remain, And strive thyself to hide ; Assume the Monkish coward life, All for a woman’s pride ?” With louder voice and warmer look, The hermit host rejoin’d, “ Think’st thou vain youth, the chains of fear Could here a warrior hold. “« Know boy, thou seest Hermanrick here ; Well vers’d in war’s alarms ; A name once not unknown to fame, Nor unrenown’d in arms. “O Athelgiva! (yet how dear) Did I thy danger know : Yet would I fly to thy relief, And crush th’ invading foe.”’ With fluster’d cheek, young Edwy turn’d, At Athelgiva’s name ; And ‘Gracious powers! it must be he!” He cries, ‘It is the same! I know full well, I have not now More of thy tale to learn ; I heard this morn, ere from the wave, You could the Sun discern. “« My sister loves thee, gallant youth, By all the saints on high! She wept last night, when thy hard fate She told with many a sigh. “ Forgive her then, and in her cause Thy limbs with steel enfold ! Was it not Ardolph’s daughter, say, Who late thy heart did hold ?” “It was, it was! Hermanrick cried ; I heard her brother's name ; Tis said he was a gallant youth, Who sought abroad for fame.” 28 Holroyd's Collection of Vorkshire Ballads. Then Edwy sprang to his embrace, And clasp’d him to his breast ; «« And thou shalt be my brother, too,” He said, and look’d the rest. “ But now let honour fill thy mind, Be love’s soft laws obey’d ; ’Tis Athelgiva claims thy sword, ’Tis she demands thy aid. ‘« She, with impatient anxious heart, Expects thy quick return ; And till again she sees me safe, The hapless maid will mourn. “Then let us fly to seek these chiefs, Who promised aid to send ; Earl Osrick was my father’s guest, Lord Redwald is my friend.” Hermanrick said, “ First let us go To cheer yon drooping maid ; Again, Pll wear my canker’d arms, Again, Pl draw my blade.” ‘Then from a corner of the cell His clashing arms appcar ; But when he mark’d the growing rust, The warrior dropt a tear. Then forth they: went—Hermanrick knew Each pathway of the wood ; And safe before the Abbey gate At break of day they stood. Now sleep the wearied maiden’s eyes At length had kindly seal’d, When at the gate the wandering knights Returning day reveal’ d. “ Quick, call the Abbess,” Edwy said, To him who kept the door, Who watched and prayed the live long night, A pious priest and poor. The Abbess came with instant haste ; Th alarming bell was rung ; And from their matted homely beds The sainted virgins sprung. Edited by Chas. Fo Forshaw, LD. 29 Fair Athelgiva first the dame, Soft speaking, thus addrest ; My daughter, an important call Commands me break thy rest. ‘“‘ Thy brother at the Abbey gate, Appears with features glad ; And with him comes a stranger knight, In war-worn armour clad.” With faltering step and bloodless cheek, Young Athelgiva went ; Confusion, shame, surprise, and joy, At once her bosom rent. When in the stranger knight she saw Hermanrick’s much-loved face ; Whilst he by generous love impelled Rush’d to her fond embrace. Fain would the muse attempt to paint What joy the lover knew, Who found his long disdainful maid At once, fair, kind, and true. Then Edwy, while entranced in bliss The happy pair remained, Kecounted o’er the tale, how he Hermanrick lost regained. But soon, alas! too soon, was heard, To damp their new form’d joys, The groan of death, the shout of war, The battle’s mingled noise. For up the hill, with eager haste, A breathless courier came ; He cries, prepare for dire alarms, And shun the approaching flame. Fierce Hubba, landing on the beach, Now drives our feeble band ; Who, far too few to stop his force, Fly o’er the crimson’d sand. What anguish filled the maiden’s breast, What rage the lover knew, When looking down the steepy hill, They found the tale was true, 30 Holroyd's Collection af Yorkshire Ballads. Each warlike youth then grasp’d his spear, The trembling damsel said, “*Q where is now Earl Osrick’s power, And where Lord Redwald’s aid ?” “* Alas, alas !”’ the Abbess cries, “ Far as my sight is borne, I cannot see the ruddy cross, Nor hear Earl Osrick’s horn.” Stern Hubba now to direful deeds Impell’d his savage crew ; And o’er the blood empurpled strand The golden raven flew." ‘ Behold,” he cries, and waves his lance, Where yon proud turrets rise ; Of those who prove war’s glorious toil, Let beauty be the prize. “There gold and beauty both are found, Then follow where I lead ; And quickly know you have not fought For honour’s empty meed.” He said, and press’d to gain the hill, His shouting train pursue ; And fired by hopes of brutal joys, Behold the prize in view. Young Edwy mark’d their near approach, And rushed to oppose their way ; Nor did, with equal ardour fired, Behind Hermanrick stay. Like mountain boars the brother chiefs On Denmark’s warriors flew ; And those who held the foremost ranks, Their fury overthrew. Soon piere’d by Edwy’s fatal lance, Lay Valiant Turkil here, There Hardicanute bit the dust, Beneath Hermanrick’s spear. But vain is courage, strength, or skill, When two oppose an host ; A dart with sure and deadly aim, At Edwy Hubba tost, Edited by Chas. F. Forshaw, LL.D. 3t His sister, who o’erpower'd by grief, Had fainted on the floor, Recover'd by the matron’s care, Now sought the Abbey door. When on the fatal carnaged spot, She cast her weeping eyes ; *O blessed Mary!” cries the maid, “‘ My brother bleeds and dies.” Then forth she ran and gained the place ; Where press’d by crowds of foes, Hermanrick stood—the shades of death Her brother’s eyelids close. The furious Dane nor pity knew, Nor stayed his vengeful arm ; Nor ought avails that heavenly face, Which might’a tiger charm. First on th’ unguarded chief he rush’d, And bore him to the ground ; The helpless damsel’s plaint of woe, In war’s loud shout is“drown’d. She saw Hermanrick’s quivering lips, She mark’d his rolling eye ; She faints, she falls ; before her sight Death’s visions dimly fly. “And, O thou dear and much lov’d youth,” The dying virgin cried ; ° “ Howe’er in life I wrong’d thy truth, Yet true with thee I died.” She spoke no more—e’en Hubba felt The force of love sincere ; Then first his breast confess’d a sigh, Then first his cheek a tear. “And, O my friends, the rage of war,” He cries, ‘‘ Awhile forbear ; And to their weeping kindred straight, These breathless bodies bear.” “Or fear the wrath of Powers Divine,” Nor could he further say ; But quickly with disorder’d march, Bent to his ships his way. 32 Holroya's Collection of Yorkshire Ballads. For now was heard Earl Osrick’s horn, Shrill sounding through the dale ; And now Lord Redwald's ruddy cross Was waving to the gale. His tardy aid Earl Osrick brought Too late, alas! to save ; And far beyond th’ avenging sword The Dane now rode the wave. Grief seized the warriors heart to see In dust young Edwy laid ; And stretched by brave Hermanrick’s side Fair Athelgiva dead. But on the holy cross he swore A brave revenge to take, On Denmark’s proud and bloody sons, For Athelgiva’s sake. This vow in Kenworth’s glorious field, The gallant Earl did pay ; When Alfred’s better star prevailed, And England had her day. That day the Dane full dearly paid The price of lover's blood ; That day in Hubba’s cloven helm The Saxon javelin stood. The bodies of the hapless three A single grave contains, And in the choir, with dirges dire, Are laid their cold remains. Lord Ardolph on his children’s tomb Inscribed th’ appending verse ; And long the Monk’s in gothic rhyme, Their story did rehearse. And often pointing to the skies, The cloister’d maids would cry, ‘To those bright realms, in bloom of youth, Did Athelgiva fly.” 1. The famous Reafen, or Enchanted Standard, in which the Danes put great confidence. It contained the figure of a raven, which had been inwoven by the three sisters of Hinguar and Hubba, with many magical incantations, and which, by its different movements, Ledited by Chas, F. Forshaw, LL.D. 33 prognosticated, as the Danes believed, the good or bad success of any enterprise. Mr. Ingledew’s book, from which I quote, adds as follows :— Oswy, King of Northumberland, being engaged in war with Penda, the Pagan King of Mercia, vowed that if he was victorious, he would dedicate his daughter, Ethelflida, then about one year old, to the service of God in the Monastery Aertesia (Stag Island), of which Lady Hilda, niece of Edwin, first Christian King of Northumberland, was Abbess, and having procured ten hides of land in the place called Strenshalle (Whitby) built, in 657, 4 Monastery for men and women, dedicated to St. Peter, and Lady Hilda was the first .\bbess. This Abbey continued to flourish until 867, when a party of Danes, under Hinguar and Hubba, landed at Dunsley Bay, plundered the country, and destroyed the Monastery. The story, as above, is supposed to begin about this time. (See Appendix Note 1.) Ghe Bayber of Ghirsk’s Forfeilsy FIRST come, first served—then come not late, And when arrived keep your sate ; For he who from these rules shall swerve, Shall pay his forfeit—so observe. Who enters here with boots and spurs, Must keep his nook, for if he stirs, And gives with armed heel a kick, A pint he pays for every prick. Who rudely takes another’s turn, By forfeit glass—may manners learn ; Who reverentless shall swear or curse, Must lug seven half-pence from his purse. Who checks the barber in his tale, Shall pay for that a gill of yale; Who will, or cannot miss his hat Whilst trimming pays a pint for that. And he who can but will not pay, Shall hence be sent half trimmed away ; For will he—nill he—if in fault, He forfeit must in meal or malt, But mark the man who is in drink, Must the cannikin oh, never, never clink. Folrayd’s Collection of Forkshire Ballads. Gorke, Gorke, for my Monics’ By W. E. (WILLIAM ELDERTON), A.D. 1584, As I came through the North countree, The fashions of the world to see, I sought for my mery companie, To go to the cittie of London: And when to the cittie of Yorke I came, I found good companie in the same, As well disposed to every game As if it had been at London, CHorus—Yorke, Yorke, for my monie ; Qf all the citties that ever I see, For mery pastime and companie, Except the cittie of London. And in that cittie what saw I then ¢ Knights, squires, and gentlemen A-shooting went for matches ten As if it-had been at London, And they shot at twenty pounds a bowe, Besides great cheere they did bestowe, I never sawe a gallanter showe, Except I had been at London, Yorke, &c. These matches, you shall understande,. The Earle of Essex took in hande, Against the good Earle of Cumberlande, As if it had been at London. And agreede these matches all shall be For pastime and good companie, At the cittie of Yorke full merily As if it had been in London. Yorke, &c. In Yorke there dwells an alderman, which Delights in shooting very much, I never heard of any such - In all the cittie of London. Edited by Chas. &. ‘Forshaw, LL.D. 35 His name is Maltbie,’ mery and wise At any pastime you can devise, But in shooting all his pleasure lyes, The like was never in London. Yorke, &c. This Maltbie for the cittie sake, To shoot (himself) did undertake, At any good match the Earles would make, As well as they do in London. And he brought to the fields with him, One Upecke, an archer, proper and trim, And Smith, that shoote about the pin, As if it had been at London. Yorke, &c. Then came from Cumberlande archers three, Best bowmen in the North countree, I will tell you their names what they be Well known to the cittie of London. Walmsley many a man doth knowe, And Bolton how he draweth his bowe, And Ratcliffe’s shooting long agoe, Well known to the cittie of London. Yorke, &c. And the noble Earl of Essex came To the field himselfe, to see the same, Which shall be had for ever in fame, As soone as I come at London. For he showed himselfe so diligent there, To make a mark and keepe it faire, It is worthy memorie to declare ‘Through all the cittie of London. Yorke, &c. And then was shooting out of crye, And skantling at a handfull nie, And yet the winde was very hie, As it is sometimes at London. They clapt the cloutes so on the ragges, There was such betting and such bragges, And galloping up and down with nagges, As if it had been at London. Yorke, &c, 36 Holroyd’s Collection of Yorkshire Ballads. And never an archer gave regard To halfe a bowe and halfe a yarde, I never see matches go more harde, About the cittie of London. For fairer play was never plaide, For fairer lays were never laide, And a week together they kept this trade, As if it had been at London. Yorke, &c. The Maior of Yorke * with his companie, Were all in the fields, I warrant ye, To see good rule kept orderly, As if it had been at London. Which was a dutiful sight to see, The maior and aldermen there to bee, For setting forth of archerie As well as they do at London. Yorke, &c. And there was neither fault nor fray, Nor any disorder any way, But every man did pitch and pay, As if it had been at London. As soon as every match was done, Every man was paid that won, And merily up and down dide rome, As if it had been at London. Yorke, &c. And never a man that went abroade But thought his monie well bestowde, And monie laid in heap and loade, As if it had been at London. And gentlemen there so franke and free, As a mint at Yorke again should be, Like shooting did I never see, Except I had been at London. Yorke, &c. At Yorke were ambassadours three, Of Russia—lords of high degree, This shooting they desirde to see, As if it had been at London, Edited by Chas. F Forshaw, LL.D. 37 And one desirde to draw a bowe, The force and strength thereof to know, And for his delight he drew it so, As seldom seen in London. Yorke, &c. And they did marvaile very much, There could be any archer such, To shoote so far the cloute to tutch, Which is no news to London. And they might well consider than, An English shaft will kill a man, As hath been proved where and wan, And chronicled since in London. Yorke, &c. The Earle of Cumberland’s archers won Two matches cleare, ere all was done, And I made haste a pace to ronne, To carrie these news to London. And Walmsley did the upshot win, With both his shafts so near the pin, You could scant have put three fingers in. As if it had been in London. Yorke, &c. I passe not for my monie it cost, Though some I spent and some I lost, I wanted neither sod nor roast, As if it had been in London. For there was plentie of everything, Redd and fallow deere, for a king, I never saw so mery shooting, Since first I came from London. Yorke, &c. God save the cittie of Yorke, therefore, That hath such noble friends in store, And such good aldermen send them more, And the like good luck at London. For it is not little joye to see, When lords and aldermen so agree, With such according communaltie, God send us the like in London. Yorke, &c. 38. Holrayd's € Collection of Yorkshire Ballads. God save the eae Earle of Cumberland, His praise in golden lines shall stande, That maintains archery through the land, As well as they do at London. Whose noble minde so courteously, Acquaints himself with the communaltie, To the glory of his nobilitie, I will carrie the praise to London. Yorke, &c. And tell the good Earle of Essex thus, As he is now young and prosperous, To use such properties vertuous, Deserves great praise in London. For it is no little joye to see, When noble youth so gratious bee, To give their good wills to their countree, As well as they do at London. Yorke, &c. Farewell, good cittie of Yorke, to thee, Tell Alderman Maltbie this from mee, In print shall this good shooting bee, As soone as I come at London. And many a song will I bestow On all the musitians that I know, To sing the praises where they goe, Of the cittie of Yorke, in London. Yorke, &c. God save our Queen, and keep our peace, That our good shooting may increase, And praying to God let us not cease, As well at Yorke as at London. This all our countree round about, May have archers good to hit the cloute, Which England cannot be without, No more than Yorke or London. Yorke, &c, God grant that (once) Her Majestic Would come, her cittie of Yorke to see, For the comfort great of that countree, As well as she doth at London. Ledited by Chas. f. Forshaw, LL.D. 39 Nothing shall bee thought too deare, To see her highness’ person there, With such obedient love and feare, As ever she had in London, Yorke, &c. (1.) This valuable historic ballad is from a black letter broadside in the Roxburghe Collection in the British Museum, and has always been a favourite chap-book history. The butts and the rifle have now taken the place of the long bow. (2.) Christopher Maltby, a draper, was Lord Mayor of York in 1583. (3-) Thomas Appleyard was Lord Mayor of York in 1584. In a book very kindly lent me by Mr. Robert Power, of Moor- head, Shipley, I find some valuable information concerning the author of the above ballad. It occurs in some notes by J. Woodlall Ebsworth, M.A. Cantab, to a reprint by Robert Roberts, Straight Bar (Gate, Boston, Lincolnshire ; an old and very scarce work entitled, ‘* Choyce Drollery: Songs and Sonnets.”” Being a Collection of divers excellent pieces of poetry of several eminent authors. Neve~ before printed. London, printed by J. G. for Robert Pollard, at the Ben. Johnson’s Head, behind the Exchange, and John Sweeting at the Angel in Popes-Head Alley. 1656. Then follows, “An Antidote Against Melancholy: Made up in Pills. Compounded of Witty Ballads, Jovial Songs, and Merry Catches. Printed by dfer Meluncholicus, to be sold in London and Westminster. 1661.” The first poem in this latter work is, ‘‘ The Ex-Ale-tation of Ale,’? and contains fifty-seven verses of wit, satire, and praise of that exalting drink. Of this poem our editor thus writes :—‘‘ Notice the characteristic mention of William Elderton, the Ballad-writer (who died before 1592), in the thirty-third verse :— “For ballads Elderton never had peer ; How bent his wit in them, with how merry a gale, And with all the sails up, had he been at the cup, And washed his beard with a Pot of Good Ale.” Wm. Elderton’s ‘“‘New Yorkshire Song,” intituled ‘“ Yorke, Yorke, for my Monie” entered Stationers’ Hall, 16 November, 1582, and afterwards “Imprinted at London by Richard Iones; dwelling neere Holboorne: 1584,’ has the place of honour in the Roxburghe Collections, being the first ballad in the first volume. It consequently takes the lead in the valuable ‘‘ Roxburghe Ballads” of the Ballad Society, 1869, so ably edited by William Chappell, Esq. FVS.A. It 40 Hotroyd's Collection of Vorkshire Ballads. —s also formed the commencement of Ritson’s Garland: York, 1788. It” is believed that Elderton wrote the ‘excellent Ballad intituled The Constancy of Susanna.” R. Coll. I. 60; Bagford, Il. 6; Pepys, I. 33, 496.