BE ESH ■a aBSaBpp 529 SrmB ■H BBsa $51 BBSS $S£&bH5 WB&& mcS DfiftMlBvQ BmbHuCiI oKEl aSMBSNi BlHCfffl Hptsk* ■a DM SffmBffffl ffifflftffffffif't HGHuUn 'gUpprm USi Bfflil nta wmMM B raSS Hnffl HB Smde ffftk raw aw MM IK Bbbk SOBQBC 9K e£q££M(Q: ass i,..„ k i j id-:si-:.\TEL> by RELIOUES OF ANCIENT ENGLISH POETRY Consisting of Old Heroic Ballads, Songs, and Other Pieces, COLLECTED By THOMAS PERCY, D. D., BISHOP OF DROMORE. WU6 a gnvyltmtttt flf many curious historical and narrative ballads, REPRINTED FROM RARE COPIES. And a Copious Glossary and Notes. . PHILADELPHIA: PORTER & COATES IS 7^ 0.*,. «.*'*<» |J xtfatt. The reader is here presented with select •emains of our ancient English Bards and Minstrels, an order of men, who were once greatly respected by our ancestors, and con- tributed to soften the roughno^ f a martial and unlettered people by their songs and by their music. The greater part of them are extracted from an ancient folio manuscript, in the Edi- tor's possession, which contains near two hun- dred Poems, Songs, and Metrical Romances. This MS. was written about the middle of the last century ; but contains compositions of all times and dates, from the ages prior to Chaucer, to the conclusion of the reign of Charles I.* This manuscript was shown to several learned and ingenious friends, who thought the contents too curious to be consigned to oblivion, and importuned the possessor to se- lect some of them and give them to the press. As most of them are of great simplicity, and seem to have been merely written for the peo- ple, he was long in doubt, whether, in the present state of improved literature, they could be deemed worthy the attention of the public. At length the importunity of his friends prevailed, and he could refuse nothing to such judges as the Author of the Rambler and the late Mr. Shenstone. Accordingly such specimens of ancient poetry have been selected, as either show the gradation of our language, exhibit the pro- gress of popular opinions, display the pecu- * Chaucer quotes the old Romance of " Libius Disconius," and some others, which are found in this MS. It also con- tains several Songs relating to the Civil War in the last wutury, but not one that alludes to the Restoration. liar manners and customs of former ages, or throw light on our earlier classical poets. They are here distributed into volumes, each of which contains an independent series of poems, arranged chiefly according to the order of time, and showing the gradual im- provements of the English language and poet- ry from the earliest ages down to the pre- sent. Each volume, or series, is divided into three books, to afford so many pauses, or resting places to the reader, and to assist him in distinguishing between the productions of the earlier, the middle, and the latter times. In a polished age, like the present, I am sensible that many of these reliques of an- tiquity will require great allowances to be made for them. Yet have they, for the most part, a pleasing simplicity, and many artless graces, which in the opinion of no mean critics* have been thought to compensate for the want of higher beauties, and if they do not dazzle the imagination, are frequently found to interest the heart. To atone for the rudeness of the more ob- solete poems, each volume concludes with a few modern attempts in the same kind of wri- ting: and, to take off from the tediousness of the longer narratives, they are everywhere intermingled with little elegant pieces of the lyric kind. Select ballads in the old Scottish dialect, most of them of the first rate merit, are also interspersed among those of our an- * Mr. Addison, Mr. Dryden, and the witty Lord Dorset, &c. See the Spectator, No. 70. To these might be added many eminent judges now alive. — The learned Selden appears also to have been fond of collecting these old things See below. CD PREFACE. cient English Minstrels ; and the artless pro- ductions of these old rhapsodists are occa- sionally confronted with specimens of the com- position of contemporary poets of a higher class ; of thuse who had all the advantages of learning in the times in which they lived, and who wrote for fame and for posterity. Yet perhaps the palm will be frequently due to the old strolling Minstrels, who composed their rhymes to be sung to their harps, and who looked no further than for present ap- plause, and present subsistence. The reader will find this class of men oc- casionally described in the following vo- lumes, and some particulars relating to their history in an Essay subjoined to this preface. It will be proper here to give a short ac- count of the other collections that were con- sulted, and to make my acknowledgments to those gentlemen who were so kind as to im- part extracts from them ; for, while this se- lection was making, a great number of inge- nious friends took a share in the work and explored many large repositories in its favour. The first of these that deserved notice was the Pepysian library at Magdalen College, Cambridge. Its founder, Sam. Pepys,* Esq., Secretary of the Admiralty in the reigns of Charles II. and James II., had made a large collection of ancient English ballads, near two thousand in number, which he has left pasted in five volumes in folio ; besides Gar- lands and other smaller miscellanies. This collection, he tells us, was " begun by Mr. Selden ; improved by the addition of many pieces elder thereto in time ; and the whole continued down to the year 1700 ; when the form peculiar till then thereto, viz. of the black letter with pictures, seems (for cheap- ness sake) wholly laid aside for that of the white letter without pictures." In the Ashmole Library at Oxford is a small collection of Ballads made by Anthony Wood in the year 1676, containing somewhat more than two hundred. Many ancient po- pular poems are also preserved in the Bodle- yan Library. The archives of the Antiquarian Society at London contain a multitude of curious * A Life of our curious collector, Mr. Pepys, may be seen In the " The Continuation of Mr. Collier's Supplement to his Great Dictionary, 1715, at the end of vol. iii. folio. Art- PEP." political poems in large folio volumes, digest- ed under the several reigns of Henry VIII., Edward VI., Mary, Elizabeth, James I., &c. In the British Museum is preserved a large treasure of ancient English poems in MS., besides one folio volume of printed ballads. From all these some of the best pieces were selected ; and from many private collections, as well printed as manuscript, particularly from one large folio volume which was lent by a lady. Amid such a fund of materials, the Editor is afraid he has been sometimes led to make too great a parade of his authorities. The desire of being accurate has perhaps seduced him into too minute and trifling an exactness; and in pursuit of information he may have been drawn into many a petty and frivolous research. It was however necessary to give some account of the old copies; though often, for the sake of brevity, one or two of these only are mentioned, where yet assistance was received from several. Where anything was altered that deserved particular notice, the passage is generally distinguished by two inverted ' commas'. And the Editor has en- deavoured to be as faithful as the imperfect state of his materials would admit. For these old popular rhymes being many of them copied only from illiterate transcripts, or the imperfect recitation of itinerant ballad-sing- ers, have, as might be expected, been handed down to us with less care than any other writings in the world. And the old copies, whether MS. or printed, were often so de- fective or corrupted, that a scrupulous adhe- rence to their wretched readings would only have exhibited unintelligible nonsense, or such poor meagre stuff as neither came from the Bard nor was worthy the press ; when, by a few slight corrections or additions, a most beautiful or interesting sense hath started forth, and this so naturally and easily, that the Editor could seldom prevail on him- self to indulge the vanity of making a formal claim to the improvement ; but must plead guilty to the charge of concealing his own share in the amendments under some such general title as a "Modern Copy," or the like. Yet it has been his design to give sufficient intimation where any considerable liberties* * Such liberties have been taken with all those pieces which have three asterisks subjoined, thus *** PREFACE. were taken with the old copies, and to have retained either in the text or margin any word or phrase which was antique, obsolete, unusual, or peculiar, so that these might be safely quoted as of genuine and undoubted antiquity. His object was to please both the judicious antiquary and the reader of taste; and he hath endeavoured to gratify both with- out offending either. The plan of the work was settled in con- cert with the late elegant Mr. Shenstone, who was to have borne a joint share in it had not death unhappily prevented him.* Most of the modern pieces were of his selection and arrangement, and the Editor hopes to be par- doned if he has retained some things out of partiality to the judgment of his friend. The old folio MS. above mentioned was a pre- sent from Humphrey Pitt, Esq., of Prior's-lee, in Shropshire,! to whom this public acknow- ledgment is due for that, and many other obliging favours. To Sir David Dalrymple, Bart., of Hales, near Edinburgh, the editor is indebted for most of the beautiful Scottish poems with which this little miscellany is enriched, and for many curious and elegant remarks with which they are illustrated. Some obliging communications of the same kind were received from John Mac Go wan, Esq., of Edinburgh; and many curious expla- nations of Scottish words in the glossaries from John Davidson, Esq., of Edinburgh, and from the Rev. Mr. Hutchinson of Kimbolton. Mr. Warton, who has twice done so much honour to the Poetry Professor's chair at Oxford, and Mr. Hest of Worcester College, contributed some curious pieces from the Oxford libraries. Two ingenious and learn- * That the Editor hath not here underrated the assist- ance he received from his friend, will appear from Mr. Shenstone's own letter to the Rev. Mr. Graves, dated March 1, 1761. See his works, vol. iii. letter ciii. It is doubtless a great loss to this work, that Mr. Shenstone never saw more than about a third of one of these volumes, as pre- pared for the press. f Who informed the Editor that this MS. had been pur- chased in a library of old books, which was thought to have belonged to Thomas Blount, author of the " Jocular Tenures, 1679," 4to.. and of many other publications enu- merated in Wood's Athenas, ii. 73; the earliest of which is " The Art of Making Devises, 1646," 4to., whereiu lie is described to be " of the Inner Temple." If the collection was made by this lawyer (who also published the " Law Dictionary, 1671," folio), it should seem, from the errors and defects with which the MS. abounds, that he had employed his clerk in writing the transcripts, who was often weary of his task. ed friends at Cambridge deserve the Editor's warmest acknowledgments : to Mr. Blake- way, late fellow of Magdalen College, he owes all the assistance received from the Pepysian library : and Mr. Farmer, fellow of Emanuel, often exerted, in favour of this little work, that extensive knowledge of ancient English literature for which he is so distinguished.* Many extracts from ancient MSS. in the British Museum, and other repositories, were owing to the kind services of Thomas Astle, Esq., to whom the public is indebted for the curious Preface and Index annexed to the Harleyan Catalogue.! The worthy Librarian of the Society of Antiquarians, Mr. Norris, deserves acknowledgment for the obliging manner in which he gave the Editor access to the volumes under his care. In Mr. Gar- rick's curious collection of old plays are many scarce pieces of ancient poetry, with the free use of which he indulged the Editor in the politest manner. To the Rev. Dr. Birch he is indebted for the use of several ancient and valuable tracts. To the friend- ship of Dr. Samuel Johnson he owes many * To the same learned and ingenious friend, since Master of Emanuel College, the Editor is obliged for many correc- tions and improvements in his second and subsequent editions; as also to the Rev. Mr. Bowie, of Idmistone, near Salisbury, Editor of the curious edition of Don Quixote, with Annotations, in Spanish, in six vols. 4to. ; to the Rev. Mr. Cole, formerly of Blecheley, near Fenny-Stratford, Bucks; to the Rev. Mr. Lambe, of Noreham, in North- umberland, author of a learned " History of Chess," 1764, 8vo., and Editor of a curious " Poem on the Battle of Flodden Field," with learned Notes, 1774, 8vo. ; and to G. Paton, Esq., of Edinburgh. He is particularly indebted to two friends, to whom the public, as well as himself, are under the greatest obligations ; to the Honourable Daines Barring- ton, for his very learned and curious " Observations on the Statutes," 4to. ; and to Thomas Tyrwhitt, Esq., whose most correct and elegant edition of Chaucer's " Canterbury Tales," 5 yols. 8vo., is a standard book, and shows how an ancient English classic should be published. The Editor was also favoured with many valuable remarks and correc- tions from the Rev. Geo. Ashby, late fellow of St. John's College, in Cambridge, which are not particularly pointed out because they occur so often. He was no less obliged to Thomas Butler, Esq., F.A.S., agent to *he Duke of North- umberland, and Clerk of the Peace for the county of Mid- dlesex; whose extensive knowledge of ancient writings, records, and history, has been of great use to the Editor in his attempts to illustrate the literature or manners of our ancestors. Some valuable remarks were procured by Samuel Pegge, Esq., author of that curious work the " Curialia," 4to. ; but this impression was too far advanced to profit by them all ; which hath also been the case with a series of learned and ingenious annotations inserted in the Gentleman's Magazine for August, 1793, April. June, July, and October, 1794, and which, it is hoped, will be continued. t Since Keeper of the Records in the Tower. PREFACE. valuable hints for the conduct of the work. And, if the Glossaries are more exact and curious than might be expected in so slight a publication, it is to be ascribed to the su- pervisal of a friend, who stands at this time the first in the world for Northern literature, and whose learning is better known and re- spected in foreign nations than in his own country. It is perhaps needless to name the Rev. Mr. Lye, Editor of Junius's Etymologi- cum, and of the Gothic Gospels. The names of so many men of learning and character the Editor hopes will serve as an amulet, to guard him from every unfa- vourable censure for having bestowed any attention on a parcel of Old Ballads. It was at the request of many of these gentle- men, and of others eminent for their genius and taste, that this little work was undertaken. To prepare it for the press has been the amusement of now and then a vacant houl amid the leisure and retirement of rural life, and hath only served as a relaxation from graver studies. It has been taken up at dif- ferent times, and often thrown aside for many months, during an interval of four or five years. This has occasioned some incon- sistencies and repetitions, which the candid reader will pardon. As great care has been taken to admit nothing immoral and indecent, the Editor hopes he need not be ashamed of having bestowed some of his idle hours on the ancient literature of our own country, or in rescuing from oblivion some pieces (though but the amusements of our ancestors) which tend to place in a striking light their taste, genius, sentiments, or manners. Except in one paragraph, and in the Notes subjoined, this Preface is given with little variation from the first edition in mdcclxv. €tmtvxtB. PAGE 1 Essay on the Ancient Minstrels in England ix 2 Notes and Illustrations .... xxiii SERIES THE FIRST. BOOK THE FIRST. 1 The ancient Ballad of Chevy-Chase . . 51 2 The Battle of Otterbourne ... 56 Illustration of the Names in the foregoing Ballads ....... 62 3 The Jew's Daughter. A Scottish Ballad . 63 4 Sir Cauline 64 5 Edward, Edward. A Scottish Ballad . 70 6 King Estmere 71 On the word Termagant . . 75 7 Sir Patrick Spence. A Scottish Ballad . 76 8 Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne . . 77 9 An Elegy on Henry, Fourth Earl of North- umberland, by Skelton .... 82 10 The Tower of Doctrine, by Stephen Hawes 86 11 The Child of Elle 87 12 Edom (Adam) o'Gordon. A Scottish Ballad 90 BOOK THE SECOND. [Containing Ballads that Illustrate Shalcspeare.) Essay on the Origin of the English Stage 93 1 Adam Bell, Clym o' the Clough, and Wil- liam of Cloudesly 104 2 The aged Lover renounceth Love . . 113 3 Jepthah, Judge of Israel .... 114 4 A Robyn, Jolly Robyn , . . . H5 5 A Song to the Lute in Musicke . . H6 6 King Cophetua and the Beggar-maid . 117 7 Take thy old Cloak about thee . .119 8 Willow, Willow, Willow . . . .120 9 Sir Lancelot du Lake . . . .122 10 Corydon's Farewell to Phillis . . .124 The Ballad of Constant Susannah . . 124 11 Gernutus, the Jew of Venice . . . 124 12 The Passionate Shepherd to his Love, by Marlow 128 The Nymph's Reply, by Sir W. Raleigh . 129 13 Titus Andronicus's Complaint . . . 129 14 Take those Lips away .... 132 15 King Leir and his Three Daughters . 132 16 Youth and Age, by Shakspeare . . 135 17 The Frolicksome Duke, or the Tinker's Good Fortune 135 18 The Friar of Orders Gray . . .137 BOOK THE THIRD. 1 The more modern Ballad of Chevy Chase Illustration of the Northern Names . 2 Death's Final Conquest, by James Shirley 3 The Rising in the North . 4 Northumberland betrayed by Douglas 5 My Mind to me a Kingdome is 6 The Patient Countess, by W. Warner 7 Dowsabell, by Drayton 8 The Farewell to Love, from Beaumont and Fletcher 9 Ulysses and the Syren, by S. Daniel 10 Cupid's Pastime, by Davison . 11 The Character of a Happy Life, by Sir H Wotton 12 Gilderoy. A Scottish Ballad . 13 Winifreda 14 The Witch of Wokey 15 Bryan and Pereene. A West India Ballad by Dr. Grainger .... 16 Gentle River, Gentle River. Translated from the Spanish .... 17 Alcanzar and Zayda, a Moorish Tale rAGB 139 145 145 146 149 153 154 157 159 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 169 SERIES THE SECOND. BOOK THE FIRST. 1 Richard of Almaigne . . . .171 2 On the Death of King Edward I. . .172 3 An original Ballad, by Chaucer . .174 4 The Turnament of Tottenham . . . 175 5 For the Victory at Agincourt . . . 179 6 The Not-browne Mayd . . . .180 7 A Balet by the Earl Rivers . . .185 8 Cupid's Assault. By Lord Vaux . . 1S6 9 SirAldingar 188 10 The Gaberlunzie Man. Scottish. By King James V 191 11 On Thomas Lord Cromwell . . .192 12 Harpalus. An Ancient English Pastoral 194 13 Robin and Makyne. An ancient Scottish Pastoral 195 14 Gentle Herdsman, tell to me . . . 197 15 King Edward IV. and the Tanner of Tarn- worth 199 16 As ye came from the Holy Land . . 202 17 Hardyknute. A Scottish Fragment. By Sir J. Bruce 203 (5) VI CONTENTS. BOOK THE SECOND. PAGE 1 A Ballad of Luther, the Pope, a Cardinal, and a Husbandman .... 209 2 John Anderson my Jo. A Scottish Song . 211 3 Little John Nobody .: ... 212 4 Queen Elizabeth's Verses, while Prisoner at Woodstock 214 5 The Heir of Linne 214 6 Gascoigne's Praise of the fair Bridges, afterwards Lady Sandes . . .218 7 Fair Rosamond. By Thomas Delone . 220 8 Queen Eleanor's Confession . . . 224 9 The Sturdy Rock 226 10 The Beggar's Daughter of Bednal Green . 226 An Essay on the word Fit, and the Ancient Ballad Singing . . . ' . .231 11 Fancy and Desire. By the Earl of Oxford 233 12 Sir Andrew Barton 234 13 Lady Anne Bothwell's Lament. A Scot- tish Song . . . . . .239 14 The Murder of the King of Scots . . 240 ]0 A Sonnet by Queen Elizabeth . . . 241 16 The King of Scots and And. Browne. By W. Elderton 242 17 The Bonny Earl of Murray. A Scottish Song 244 18 Young Waters. A Scottish Song . . 245 19 Mary Ambree 246 20 Brave Lord Willoughby . . . .249 21 Victorious Men of Earth. By James Shir- ley 250 22 The Winning of Cales .... 251 23 The Spanish Lady's Love . . . 252 24 Argentile and Curan. By W. Warner . 254 25 Corin's Fate 259 26 Jane Shore 259 27 Corydon's Doleful Knell . . . .264 BOOK THE THIRD. Essay on the Metre of Pierce Plowman's Visions . . . . . . .265 1 The Complaint of Conscience . . . 272 2 Plain Truth and Blind Ignorance . . 274 3 The Wandering Jew . . . .276 4 The Lye. By Sir W. Raleigh . . .278 5 Verses (viz. two Sonnets) by King James I. 279 6 King John and the Abbot of Canterbury 280 7 You Meaner Beauties. By Sir H. Wotton 283 8 The Old and Young Courtier . . .283 9 Sir John Suckling's Campaigne . . 285 10 To Althea from Prison. By Col. Lovelace 286 11 The Downfall of Charing Cross . . 287 12 Loyalty Confined. By Sir Roger L'Es- trange 288 13 Verses by King Charles I. . . . 289 14 The Sale of Rebellious Household Stuff . 290 15 The Baffled Knight, or Lady's Policy . 292 16 Why so Pale? By Sir John Suckling . 294 17 Old Tom of Bedlam. Mad Song the First 294 18 The Distracted Puritan. Mad Song the Second 296 19 The Lunatic Lover. Mad Song the Third 297 20 The Lady Distracted with Love. Mad Song the Fourth 298 21 The Distracted Lover. Mad Song the Fifth 22 The Frantic Lady. Mad Song the Sixth . 23 Lilli-Burlero. By Lord Wharton . 24 The Braes of Yarrow. In Imitation of the ancient Scottish Manner. By W. Hamil- ton 25 Admiral Hosier's Ghost. By Mr. Glover . 26 Jemmy Dawson. By Mr. Shenstone 298 299 300 301 so;- 304 SERIES THE THIRD. BOOK THE FIRST. Essay on the Ancient Metrical Romances 306 1 The Boy and the Mantle . . . .320 2 The Marriage of Sir Gawaine . . . 324 3 King Ryence's Challenge .... 328 4 King Arthur's Death. A Fragment . 329 5 The Legend of King Arthur . . . 332 6 A Dyttie to Hey Downe .... 333 7 Glasgerion 334 8 Old Robin of Portingale .... 335 9 Child Waters .337 10 Phillida and Corydon. By Nic. Breton . 340 11 Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard . .341 12 The Ew-bughts Marion. A Scottish Song 343 13 The Knight and Shepherd's Daughter . 343 14 The Shepherd's Address to his Muse. By N. Breton . . . . .345 15 Lord Thomas and Fair Ellinor . . . 345 16 Cupid and Campaspe. By John Lilye . 347 17 The Lady turned Serving Man . . 347 18 Gil (Child) Morrice. A Scottish Ballad . 349 BOOK THE SECOND. 1 The Legend of Sir Guy . . . .352 2 Guy and Amarant. By Sam. Rowlands . 354 3 The Auld Good-man. A Scottish Song . 358 4 Fair Margaret and Sweet William . . 358 5 Barbara Allen's Cruelty . . . .360 6 Sweet William's Ghost. A Scottish Ballad 361 7 Sir John Grehme and Barbara Allan. Ditto 362 8 The Bailiff's Daughter of Islington . . 362 9 The W illow Tree. A Pastoral Dialogue* . 363 10 The Lady's Fall 364 11 Waly, Waly, Love be bonny. A Scottish Song 366 12 The Bride's Burial . . . . .366 13 Dulcina 368 14 The Lady Isabella's Tragedy . . .369 15 A Hue and Cry after Cupid. By Ben Jon- son 370 16 The King of France's Daughter . .371 17 The Sweet Neglect. By Ben Jonson . 374 18 The Children in the Wood . . . 374 19 A Lover of Late was I . . . .376 20 The King and the Miller of Mansfield . 377 21 The Shepherd's Resolution. By G. Wither 381 22 Queen Dido, or the Wandering Prince of Troy 382 23 The Witches Song. By Ben Jonson . 381 24 Robin Good-fellow 385 25 The Fairy Queen 387 26 The Fairies Farewell. By Dr. Corbet 388 CONTENTS. vn BOOK THE THIRD. 1 The Birth of St. George . 2 St. George and the Dragon 3 Love will find out the Way 4 Lord Thomas and Fair Annet. A Scottish Ballad 5 Unfading Beauty. By Thomas Carew . 6 Georee par Richard, surnomme Coeur de Lion, Roy d'Angloterre," &c. Pari* 1705, 12ino. — In the Preface to this romance the Editor has given another song of Blondel de Nesle. as also a copy of the song written by King Richard, and published by Mr. Walpole, mentioned above, yet the two last are not in Provencal like the sonnet printed here ; but in the old French, called Language Roman. abroad and secreted by her French relations in Normandy. To discover the place of her concealment, a knight of the Talbot family spent two years in exploring that province, at first under the disguise of a pilgrim ; till having found where she was confined, in order to gain admittance he assumed the dress and character of a harper, and being a jocose person exceedingly skilled in the "gests of the ancients ;"* so they called the romances and stories which were the delight of that age ; he was gladly received into the family. Whence he took an opportunity to carry off the young lady, whom he presented to the king ; and he bestowed her on his na- tural brother William Longespee (son of fair Rosamond), who became in her right Earl of Salisbury. (V 3) The next memorable event which I find in history reflects credit on the English Min- strels : and this was their contributing to the rescue of one of the great Earls of Chester when besieged by the Welsh. This happened in the reign of King John, and is related to this effect. " Hugh, the first Earl of Chester, in his charter of foundation of St. Werburg's Abbey in that city, had granted such a privilege to those who should come to Chester fair, that they should not then be apprehended for theft or any other misdemeanour, except the crime were committed during the fair. This special protection occasioning a multitude of loose people to resort to that fair, was afterwards of signal benefit to one of his successors. For Ranulph, the last Earl of Chester, marching into Wales with a slender attendance, was constrained to retire to his castle of Rothelan, (or Rhuydland) to which the Welsh forthwith laid siege. In this distress he sent Tor help to the Lord de Lacy, constable of Chester: " Who, making use of the Minstrells of all sorts, then met at Chester fair : by the allure- ment of their musick, got together a vast number of such loose people as, by reason of the before specified priviledge, were f ^en in that city ; whom he forthwith sent under the * The words of the original, viz., " Citharisator home jocosus in Gestis antiquorum valde peritus." I conceive tc give the precise idea of the ancient Minstrel. See note (V 2). That Gesta was appropriated to romantic stories., see note (I) Part IV (1). f See Dugdale, Bar. i. 42, 101, who places it after 1 3 T ohn, A. D. 1212. See also Plot's Staffordsh. Camden's Britann. (Cheshire.) XIV AN ESSAY ON THE ANCIENT MINSTRELS. harper was expected to sing, we cannot doubt but this reward was given to him for his music and his songs ; which, if they were for the solace of the monks there, we may con- clude would be in the English language. (U) Under his romantic son, King Richard I„ the Minstrel profession seems to have ac- quired additional splendour. Richard, who was the great hero of chivalry, was also the distinguished patron of Poets and Minstrels. He was himself of their number, and some of his poems are still extant.* They were no less patronized by his favourites and chief officers. His Chancellor, William Bishop of Ely, is expressly mentioned to have invited Singers and Minstrels from France, whom he loaded with reward ; and they in return cele- brated him as the most accomplished person in the world. (U 2) This high distinction and regard, although confined perhaps in the first instance to Poets and Songsters of the French nation, must have had a tendency to do honour to poetry and song among all his subjects, and to encourage the cultivation of these arts among the natives ; as the indulgent favour . shown by the monarch, or his great courtiers, to the Provencal Troubadour, or Norman Rymour, would naturally be imitated by their inferior vassals to the English Glee- man or Minstrel. At more than a century after the conquest, the national distinctions must have begun to decline, and both the Norman and English languages would be heard in the houses of the great;(U3) so that probably about this sera, or soon after, we are to date that remarkable intercommu- nity and exchange of each other's composi- tions, which we discover to have taken place at some early period between the French and English Minstrels ; the same set of phrases, the same species of characters, incidents, and adventures, and often the same identical stories, being found in the old metrical ro- mances of both nations. (V) The distinguished service which Richard received from one of his own minstrels, in rescuing him from his cruel and tedious cap- tivity, is a remarkable fact, which ought to * See a pathetic song of his in Mr. Walpole's Catalogue of Royal Authors, vol. i. p. ft. The reader will find a trans- lation of it into modern French, in Hist. Literaire des Trou- badours, 1774, 3 torn. 12mo. See vol. i. p. 58, where some more of Richard's poetry is translated. In Dr. Burney's Hist, of Music, vol. ii. p. 238, is a poetical version of it in English. be recorded for the honour of poets and tneir art. This fact I shall relate in the following words of an ancient writer:* " The Englishmen were more than a whole yeare without hearing any tydings of their king, or in what place he was kept prisoner. He had trained up in his court a Rimer or Minstrill,f called Blondell de Nesle: who (so saith the manuscript of old Poesies, J and an auncient manuscript French Chronicle) being so long without the sight of his lord, his life seemed wearisome to him, and he became confounded with melancholly. Knowne it was, that he came backe from the Holy Land ; but none could tell in what countrey he ar- rived. Whereupon this Blondel, resolving to make search for him in many countries, but he would heare some newes of him ; after expence of divers dayes in travaile, he came to a towne§ (by good hap) neere to the castell where his maister King Richard was kept. Of his host he demanded to whom the castell appertained, and the host told him that it belonged to the Duke of Austria. Then he enquired whether there were any prisoners therein detained or no : for alwayes he made such secret questionings wheresoever he came. And the hoste gave answer, there was one onely prisoner, but he knew not what he was, and yet he had bin detained there more than the space of a yeare. When Blondel heard this, he wrought such meanes, that he * Mons. Favine's Theatre of Honour and Knighthood, translated from the French. Lond. 1623, fol. torn. ii. p. 49. An elegant relation of the same event (from the French of Presid. Fauchet's Recueil, &c.) may he seen in " Miscella- nies in prose and verse, by Anna Williams, Lond. 1766," 4to. p. 46. — It. will excite the reader's admiration to ha informed, that most of the pieces of that collection were composed under the disadvantage of a total deprivation of sight. f Favine's words are, u Jongleur appelle Blondiaux de Nesle." Paris, 1620, 4to., p. 1106. But Fauchet, who has given the same story, thus expresses it, " Or ce roy ayant nourri un Menestrel appelle Blondel," 'i: and Dr. Burney's Hist. vol. ii. p. 360 et seqq. >.'. B. The barbarous diversion of hull-running was no fiart of the original institution. &c, as is fully proved hy the Rev. Dr. Pegge. in Archseologia, vol. ii. no. xiii. p. 86. t See the charge -.riven by the Steward, at the time of the election, in VIot's Hist, uhi supra; and in Hawkins, p. 67. Burney, p. 363-4. X So among the Heralds Norrey was anciently styled Roy cCArme.s de North. (Anstis, ii. 300.) And the Kinsey op gelypebpe ylbo. time in which he was of an advanced age ; -y he neppe asmg leo}> geleopnobe. and. he never any song learned, *] he popJ?on ope in gebeoppcipe And he therefore oft in an entertainment bonne baep paep bhppe intinga ivhen there was for merriment-sake adjudged gebemeb p hi ealle pceolban buph [or decreed] that they all should through enbebypbneppe be heappan pmgan. their turns by [to the] harp sing; bonne he gepeabr ba heappan him when he saw the harp him nealaecean. bonne apap he pop pceome approach, then arose he for shame ppam bam pymle. *] ham eobe to from the supper, and home yode [went] to hip hupe. his house. — Bed. Hist. Eccl. a Smith. Can- tab. 1722, fol. p. 597. In this version of Alfred's it is observa- ble, (1) that he has expressed the Latin word cantare, by the Anglo-Saxon words " be heappan pingan," sing to the harp; as if they were synonymous, or as if his coun- trymen had no idea of singing unaccompa- nied with the Harp : (2) That when Bede simply says, surgebal a media cazna ; he as- signs a motive, "apap pop pceome,'' arose for shame: that is, either from an aus- terity of manners, or from his being deficient in an accomplishment which so generally pre- vailed among his countrymen. (1) "The word Glee, which peculiarly de- noted their art," &c. This word Glee is de- rived from the Anglo-Saxon Ijli.^5, [GHigg] Musica, Music, Minstrelsy (Somn). This ia the common radix, whence arises such a va- riety of terms aud phrases relating to the NOTES ON THE FOREGOING ESSAY. Minstrel Art, as affords the strongest internal proof, that this profession was extremely common and popular here before the Norman Conquest. Thus we have (1). Elip, [Gliw] Mimus a Minstrel. Eligman, ghgmon, ghman [Gleeman,*] His trio Mimas, Panto m i mus ; all common names in middle Latinity for a Minstrel : and Somner accordingly renders the original by a Minstrel; a Player on a Timbrel or Taber. He adds, a Fidler ; but although the Fythell or Fiddle was an ancient instrument, by which the Jogelar or Minstrel sometimes ac- companied his song (see Warton, i. 17), it is probable that Somner annexes here only a modern sense to the word, not having at all investigated the subject. Elnnien, glngmen. [Glee-men]. His- triones Minstrels. Hence Eligmaima yppe. Orchestra vel Pulpi- tus. The place where the Minstrels exhibited their performances. (2). But their most proper and expressive name Avas Ehphleo}>]uenb. Musicus, a Minstrel; and Eliphleo]>pienblica. Musicus, Musical. These two words include the full idea of the Minstrel character, expressing at once their music and singing, being compounded of Elip, Musicus, Mimus, a Musician, Minstrel, and Leoft, Carmen, a Song. (3). From the above word Dhgg, the pro- fession itself was called Eligcjiaspt. [Glig or Glee-craft.] Mu- * Gleman continued to be the name given to a Minstrel both in England and Scotland almost as long as this order of men continued. In De Brunne's metrical version of Bishop Grosthead's Manuel de Peche. A. D. 1303 (see Warton, i. 61), we have this, " Gode men, ye shall lere When ye any Gleman here." Fabyan (in his Chronicle, 1533, f. 32), translating the passage from Geoffrey of Moumouth, quoted below in page 28, Note (K), renders Deus Jocuiatorum, by God of Gle- men. (Warton's Hist. Eng. Poet. Diss. I.) Fabyan died in 1592. Dunbar, who lived in the same century, describing, in one of his poems, intituled " The Daunce," what passed in the infernal regions " amaugis the Feyndis," says, " Na Menstralls playit to thame, but dowt, For Gle-men thaire wer haldin, out, Be day and eke by nicht." See Poems from Bannatyne's MS. Edinb. 1770, 12mo. page 130. Maitland's MS. at Cambridge reads here, Glewe men. ska, Histrionia, Mimica, Gesticulatio : which Somner rightly gives in English, Minstrelsy, Mimical Gesticulation, Mummery. He also adds, Stage-playing ; but here again I think he substitutes an idea too modern, induced by the word Histrionia, which in Middle Latinity only signifies the Minstrel Art. However, it should seem that both mimical gesticulation and a kind of rude exhibition of characters were sometimes attempted by the old Minstrels. But (4). As Musical Performances was the leading idea, so Erhopian, Cantus musicos edere ; and Dhgbeam, ghpbeam. [Glig- or Glee- beam.] Tympanum; a Timbrel or Taber. (So Somn.) Hence Ijlypan. Tympanum pulsare ; and Irhp-meben ; Eliypienbe-maben [Glee-Maiden.] Tympanistria : which Somner renders a She-Minstrel ; for it should seem that they had Females of this profession ; one one name for which was also Zrlypbybe- nepcjia. (5). Of congenial derivation to the forego- ing, is Eflypc. [Glywc] Tibia, a Pipe or Flute. Both this and the common radix Erligg, are with great appearance of truth derived by Junius from the Icelandic Gliggur, Flatus : as supposing the first attempts at music among our Gothic ancestors were from wind- instruments. Yid. Jun. Etym. Ang. Y. Glee. II. But the Minstrels, as is hinted above, did not confine themselves to the mere exercise of their primary arts of Music and Song, but occasionally used many other modes of divert- ing. Hence, from the above root was derived, in a secondary sense, (1). Dleo, and pmpum ghp. Facetiae. Lrleopian, jocari ; to jest or be merry (Somn.) ; and Lrleopienb, jocans ; jesting, speaking merrily (Somn.). Hrli^man also signified Jocista, a Jester. Eh^-.^amen [Glee-games], joci. Which Somner renders Merriments, or merry Jests, or trick, or Spor ts : Gamboles. (2). Hence, again, by a common metonymy of the cause for the effect, Zrlie, gaudium, alacritas, Icetitia, facetiae ; XXX NOTES ON THE FOREGOING ESSAY. Joy, Mirth, Gladness, Cheerfulness, Glee. [Sumner.] Which last application of the word still continues, though rather in a low, debasing sense. III. But however agreeable and delightful the various arts of the Minstrels might ba to the Anglo-Saxon laity, there is reason to believe that, before the Norman Conquest at least, they were not much favoured by the clergy ; particularly by those of monastic profession. For, not to mention that the sportive talents of these men would be considered by those austere ecclesiastics as tending to levity and licentiousness, the Pagan origin of their art would excite in the Monks an insuperable prejudice against it. The Anglo-Saxon Harp- ers and Gleemen Avere the immediate suc- cessors and imitators of the Scandinavian Scalds ; who were the great promoters of Pagan superstition, and fomented that spirit of cruelty and outrage in their countrymen, the Danes, which fell with such peculiar severity on the religious and their convents. — Hence arose a third application of words de- rived from Ijligg, Minstrelsy, in a very un- favourable sense, and this chiefly prevails in books of religion and ecclesiastic discipline. Thus, (1). IJI15 is Ludibrium, laughing to scorn.* So in S. Basil. Regul. 11, Hi hsepbon him Co glige halpenbe mine gunge. Ludri- brio habebant salutarem ejus admonitionem. (10). This sense of the word was perhaps not ill founded ; for as the sport of rude un- cultivated minds often arises from ridicule, it is not improbable but the old Minstrels often indulged a vein of this sort, and that of no very delicate kind. So again, Ijlig-man was also used to signify Scvrra, a " Saucy Jester." (Somn.) Dlig-georin. Dicax, Scvrriles jocos supra quam par est amans. Officium Episcopale, 3. Frhpian. Scurrilibus oblectamentis indul- gere ; Scurram agere. Canon. Edgar, 58. (2). Again, as the various attempts to please, practised by an order of men who owed their support to the public favour, might be considered by those grave censors as mean and debasing : Hence came from the sam i ; root, * To gleek. is used in Shakspeare, for " to make sport, to jest," &c. Dlipoji. Parasitus, Assentator ; "A Fawner, a Togger, a Parasite, a Flatterer.* (Somn.) IV. To return to the Anglo-Saxon word Dligg; notwithstanding the various secondary senses in which this word (as we have seen above) was so early applied ; yet The derivative Glee (though now chiefly used to express Merriment and Joy) long retained its first simple meaning, and is even applied by Chaucer to signify Music and Minstrelsy. (Vid. Juri. Etym.) E. g. " For though that the best harper upon live Would on the beste sounid jolly harpe That evir was, with all his fingers five Touch aie string, or aie warble harpe, Were his nailes poincted nevir so sharpe It shoulde makin every wight to dull To heare is glee, and of his strokes ful." Troyl. lib. ii. 1030. Junius interprets Glees by Musica Instru- mental in the following passages of Chaucer's Third Boke of Fame : ' . . Stoden . . the castell all aboutin Of all maner of Mynstrales And Jestours that tellen tales Both of wepyng and of game, And of all that longeth unto fame ; There herde I play on a harpe That sowned both well and sharpe Hym Orpheus full craftily ; And on this syde fast by Sate the harper Orion ; And Eacides Chirion ; And other harpers many one, And the Briton Glaskyrion. After mentioning these, the great masters of the art, he proceeds : * The preceding list of Anglo-Saxon works, so full and copious beyond anything that ever yet appeared in print on this subject, was extracted from Mr. Lye's curious Anglo- Saxon Lexicon, in MS., but the arrangement here is the Editors own. It had however received the sanction of Mr. Lye's approbation, and would doubtless have been received into his printed copy had he lived to publish it himself. It should also he observed, for the sake of future re- searches, that without the assistance of the old English Interpretations eiven by Somner. in his Anglo-Saxon Dic- tionary, the Editor of this book never could have discovered that Glee signified " Minstrelsy," or Gligman a " Minstrel.' NOTES ON THE FOREGOING ESSAY. " And small Harpers with her Glees Sat under them in divers sees." # * * * Again, a little below, the poet, having enu- merated the performers on all the different sorts of instruments, adds : " There sawe I syt in other sees Playing upon other sundry Glees, Which that I cannot neven* More than starves ben in heven, &c Upon the above lines I shall only make a few observations : 1 (1). That by Jestours, I suppose we are to understand Gestours ; scil. the relaters of Gests (Lat. Gesta), or stories of adventures both comic and tragical ; whether true or feigned ; I am inclined to add, whether in prose or verse. (Compare the record below, in marginal note subjoined to (V) 2.) Of the stories in prose, I conceive we have specimens in that singular book'the Gesta Rwnanorum, and this will account for its seemingly im- proper title. These were evidently what the French called Conteours, or Story-tellers, and to them we are probably indebted for the first Prose Romances of chivalry : which may be considered as specimens of their manner. (2). That the "Briton Glaskeryon," who- ever he was, is apparently the same person with our famous Harper Glasgerion, of whom the reader will find a tragical ballad, at page 206. In that song may be seen an instance of what was advanced above in note (E), of the dignity of the minstrel profession, or at least of the artifice with which the Minstrels endeavoured to set off its importance. Thus, ""a king's son is represented as appearing in the character of a Harper or Minstrel in the court of another king. He wears a collar (or gold chain) as a person of illustrious rank ; rides on horseback, and is admitted to the embraces of a king's daugh- ter." The Minstrels lost no opportunity of doing honour to their art. (3). As for the word Glees, it is to this day used in a musical sense, and applied to a peculiar piece of composition. Who has not * Neven, i. e.. name.- seen the advertisements proposing a reward to him who should produce the best Catch, Canon, or Glee? (K) "Comes from the pen of .Geoffrey of Monmouth."} Geoffrey's own words are, " Cum ergoalterius modi aditum [Boldolphus] non haberet, rasit capillos suos et barbam,* cultumque Joculatoris cum Cythara fecit. Deinde intra castra deambulans, modulis quos in Lyra componebat, sese Cytharistam exhi- bebat." Galf. Monum. Hist., 4to., 1508, lib. vii. c. 1. — That Joculator signifies precisely a Minstrel appears not only from this passage, where it is used as a word of like import to Citharista or Harper (which was the old English word for Minstrel), but also from another passage of the same author, where it is applied as equivalent to Cantor. See lib. i. cap. 22, where, speaking of an ancient (perhaps fabulous) British king, he says, " Hie omnes Cantores quos proscedens aetas habuerat et in modulis et in omnibus musicis instrumentis excedebat: ita ut Deus Jocula- torum videretur." Whatever credit is due to Geoffrey as a relater of Facts, he is cer- tainly as good authority as any for the signi- fication of Words. (L) "Two remarkable facts."] Both of these facts are recorded by William of Malmesbury ; and the first of them, relating to Alfred, by Ingulphus also. Now Ingul- phus (afterwards Abbot of Croyland) was near forty years of' age at the time of the Conquest,f and consequently was as proper judge of the Saxon manners, as if he had * Geoffrey of Monmouth is probably here describing the appearance of the Joculaiores or Minstrels, as it was in his own time. Tor they apparently derived this part of their dress, &c, from the Mimi of the ancient Romans, who had their heads and beards shaven : (see above, p. xx. note £,) as they likewise did. the mimicry, and other arts of divert- ing, which they superadded to the composing and singing to the harp heroic songs, &c, which they inherited from their own progenitors the bards and scalds of the ancient Celtic and Gothic nations. The Longobardi had. like other nor- thern people, brought these with them into Italy. For in the year 774, when Charlemagne entered Italy and found his passage impeded, he was met by a Minstrel of Lombardy, whose song promised him success and victory. " Contigit Joculatorem ex Longobardorum gente ad Carolum venire, et Canttcnotlam a se oompositam, rotando in conspectu suorum cantare." Tom. ii. p. 2, Chron. Monast. Noval lib. iii. cap. x. p. 717. (T. Warton's Hist. vol. ii. Emend of vol. i. p. 113.) f Natus 1030, scrpsit 1091, obiit 1109. Tanner. NOTES ON THE FOREGOING ESSAY. actually -written his history before that event; he is therefore to be considered as an Ante-Norman writer: so that whether the fact concerning Alfred be true or not, we are assured from his testimony, that the Jocu- lator or Minstrel was a common character among the Anglo-Saxons. The same also may be inferred from the relation of William of Malmesbury, who outlived Ingulphus but thirty-three years.* Both these writers had doubtless recourse to innumerable records and authentic memorials of the Anglo-Saxon times which never descended down to us ; their testimony therefore is too positive and full to be overturned by the mere silence of the two or three slight Anglo-Saxon epitomes that are now remaining. Vid. note (G). As for Asser Menevensis, who has given a somewhat more particular detail of Alfred's actions, and yet takes no notice of the follow- ing story, it will not be difficult to account for his silence, if we consider that he was a rigid Monk, and that the Minstrels, however acceptable to the laity, were never much respected by men of the more strict monastic profession, especially before the Norman Conquest, when they would be considered as brethren of the Pagan Scalds. f Asser there- fore might not regard Alfred's skill in Min- strelsy in a very favourable light ; and might be induced to drop the circumstance related below, as reflecting, in his opinion, no great honour on his patron. The learned editor of Alfred's Life, in Latin, after having examined the scene of action in person, and weighed all the circum- stances of the event, determines, from the whole collective evidence, that Alfred could never have gained the victory he did if he had not with his own eyes previously seen the disposition of the enemy by such a strata- gem as is here described. Vid. Annot. in iElfr. Mag. Vitam, p. 33, Oxon. 1G78, fol. (M) "Alfred .... assumed the dress and character of a ' Minstrel.' "] " Fingens se Joculatorem, assumpta cithara," &e. In- gulpi Hist. p. 869. — " Sub specie mimi . . . ut Jocutatorite professor artis." Gul. Malmesb. * Obiit anno 1142. Tanner. f (See above, p. xxx.) Both Ingulph. and Will, of Mal- mesb. had been very conversant among; the Normans, who appear not to have lial such prejudices against the Minstrels a* the Anglo-Saxons had. 1. ii. c. 4, p. 43. That both Joculator and Mimus signify literally, a Minstrel, see proved in notes (B), (K), (N), (Q), &c. See also note (G g). Malmesbury adds, "TJnius tantum fidelis- simi fruebatur conscientia." As this con- fidant does not appear to have assumed the disguise of a Minstrel himself, I conclude that he only appeared as the Minstrel's at- tendant. Now that the Minstrel had some- times his servant or attendant to carry his harp, and even to sing to his music, we have many instances in the old Metrical Romances, and even some in this present collection : See Series the First, Songvi.; Series the Third, Song vii., &c. Among the French and Pro- vencal Bards, the Tvouuerre, or Inventor, was generally attended with his singer, who some- times also played on the harp, or other mu- sical instrument. '• Quelque fois durant le repas d'un prince on voyoit arriver un Trou- verre inconnu avec ses Menestrels ou Jon- gleours, et il leur faisoit chanter sur leurs harpes ou vielles les vers qu'il avoit composes. Ceux qui faisoient les Sons aussi bien que les Mots 6toient les plus estimes." Fontenelle Hist, du Theatr. That Alfred excelled in Music is positively asserted by Bale, who doubtless had it from some ancient MS., many of which subsisted in his time that are now lost: as also by Sir J. Spelman, who, we may conclude, had good authority for this anecdote, as he is known to have compiled his life of Alfred from authen- tic materials collected by his learned father: this writer informs us that Alfred " provided himself of musitians, not common, or such as knew but the practick part, but men skil- ful in the art itself, whose skill and service he yet further improved with his own instruc- tion :" p. 199. This proves Alfred at least to have understood the theory of music ; and how could this have been acquired without practising on some instrument? which we have seen above, note (H), was so extremely common with the Anglo-Saxons, even in much ruder times, that Alfred himself plainly tells us, it was shameful to be ignorant of it. And this commonness might be one reason why Asser did not think it of consequence enough to be particularly mentioned in his short life of that great monarch. This rigid Monk may also have esteemed it a slight and frivolous accomplishment, savouring only of NOTES ON THE FOREGOING ESSAY. worldly vanity. lie has however particularly recorded Alfred's fondness for the oral Anglo- Saxon poems and songs. [Saxonica poemata die nocteque .... audi ens .... memorita retinebat:" p. 16. " Carmina Saxonica me- moriter diseere," &c: p. 43, et ib.] Now the poems learnt by rote, among all ancient un- polished nations, are ever songs chanted by the reciter, and accompanied with instru- mental melody.* (N) "With his harp in his hand, and dressed like a Minstrel."] " Assumpta manu cithara .... professus Minium, qui hujus- modi arte stipem quotidianam mercaretur . . . Jussus abire pretium Cantus accepit:" Malmesb. 1. ii. c. 6. We see here that which was rewarded was (not any mimicry or tricks, but) his singing (Cantus); this proves, beyond dispute, what was the nature of the entertainment Aulaff afforded them. Perhaps it is needless by this time to prove to the reader, that Mimus in Middle Latinity signifies a Minstrel, and Mimia, Minstrelsy, or the Minstrel-art. Should he doubt it, let him cast his eye over the two following extracts from Du Cange : "Mimus: Musicus, qui instruments mu- sicis canit. Leges Palatinse Jacobi II. Reg. Majoric. In domibus principum, ut tradit antiquitas, Mimi seu Joculatores licite pos- sunt esse. Nam illorum officium tribuit laetitiam .... Quapropter volumus et ordi- namus, quod in nostra curia Mimi debeant esse quinque, quorum duo sint tubicinatores, et tertius sit tabelerius [i. e. a player on the tabor] .f Lit. remiss, ann. 1374. Ad Mimos cornicitantes, seu bucinantes accesserunt." * Thus Leob. the Saxon word for a Poem, is properly a song, and its derivative Lied signifies a ballad to this day in the German tongue : and Cantate, we have seen above, is by Alfred himself rendered Be heanpan rin2a n - f The Tabour or Tabourin was a common instrument with the French Minstrels, as it had also been with the Anglo-Saxon (vid. p. lxix.) : thus in an ancient French MS. in the Harl. collection (2253, 75), a Minstrel is described as riding on horseback and bearing his Tabour. " Entour son col porta son Tabour, Depeynt de Or, e riche Acour." See also a passage in Menage's Diction. Etym. [v. Menes- triers], where Tabour s is used as synonymous to Menestriers. Another frequent instrument with them was the Viele. This, I am told, is the name of an instrument at this day, which differs from a guitar, in that the player turns round a handle at the top of the instrument, and with his other hand plays on some keys that touch the chords and produce the sound. See Dr. Burney's account of the Vielle, vol. ii. p. 263, Mimia, Ludus Mimicus, Instrumentum [potius, Ars Joculatoria.] Ann. 1482 .... " mimia et cantu victum acquire" Du Cange, Gloss, torn. iv. 1762. Supp. c. 1225. (0) " To have been a Dane."] The northern historians produce such instances of the great respect shown to the Danish Scalds in the courts of our Anglo-Saxon kings, on account of their musical and poetic talents (notwith- standing they were of so hateful a nation), that if a similar order of men had not existed here before, we cannot doubt but the profes- sion would have been taken up by such of the natives as had a genius for poetry and music. " Extant Rhythm i hoc ipso [Islandico] idiomate Angliae, Hyberniasque Regibus oblati et liberaliter compensati, &c. Itaque hinc colligi potest linguam Danicam in aulis vicinorum regum, principumque familiarem fuisse, non secus ac hodie in aulus principum peregrina idiomata in deliciis haberi cerni- mus. Imprimis Vita Egilli Skallagrimii id invicto argumento adstruit. Quippe qui in- terrogatus ab Aclalsteino, Anglios rege, quo- modo manus Eirici Blodoxii, Northumbries regis, postquam in ejus potestatem venerat, evasisset, cujus filium propinquosque occi- derat . . . . rei statim ordinem metro, nunc satis obscuro, exposuit nequaquam ita narra- turus non intelligenti." [Vid. plura apud Torfseii Prsefat, ad Oread. Hist, fol.] This same Egill was no less distinguished for his valour and skill as a soldier, than for his poetic and singing talents as a Scald ; and he was such a favourite with our king Athelstan, that he at one time presented him with " duobus annulis et scriniis, duobus bene magnis argento repletis .... Quinetiam hoc addidit, ut Egillus quidvis prgeterea a se petens, obtineret; bona mobilia, sive immo- bilia, prsebendam vel prsefecturas. Egillus porro regiam munificentiam gratus excipiens. Carmen Encomiasticon, a se lingua Norve- gica (quae turn his regnis communis) com- positum, regi dicat ; ac pro eo, duas marcas auri puri (pondus marcas ... 8 uncias asqua- who thinks it the same with the Rote, or wheel. See page 270 in the note. "II ot un .Tougleor a pens, Qui navoit pas sovent robe entiere; Sovent estoit sans sa Viele." Fabliaux et Cont. ii. 184, 5. XXXIV NOTES ON THE FOREGOING ESSAY bat) honorarii loco retulit." [Arngr. Jon. Rer. Islandie. lib. ii. p. 129.] See more of Egill, in the " Five Pieces of Runic Poetry," p. 45, whose poem, there translated, is the most ancient piece all in rhyme, that is, I conceive, now to be found in any European language, except Latin. See Egill's Islandic original, printed at the end of the English Version in the said Five Pieces, &c. (P) "If the Saxons had not been accus- tomed to have Minstrels of their own .... and to show favour and respect to the Danish Scalds"] ; if this had not been the case, we may be assured, at least, that the stories given in the text could never have been recorded by writers who lived so near the Anglo-Saxon times as Malmesbury and In- gulphus, who, though they might be deceived as to particular facts, could not be so as to the general manners and customs which pre- vailed so near their own times among their ancestors. (Q) " In Doomesday Book," &c] Extract ex Libro Domesday : Et vid. Anstis Ord. Gart. ii. 304. Glowecestesceire. Fol. 162. Col. 1. Berdic Joculator Regis habet iii. villas, et ibi v. car. nil redd. That Joculator is properly a Minstrel, might be inferred from the tAvo foregoing passages of Geoffrey of Monmouth (v. note K), where the word is used as equivalent to Citharista in one place, and to Cantor in the other : this union forms the precise idea of the character. But more positive proofs have already offered, vid. supra, p. xxv., xxxii., xxxiii., note. See also Du Cange's Gloss, vol. iii. c. 1543. "Jogulator pro Joculator. — Consilium Masil. an. 1381. Nullus Ministreys, Jogulator, audeat pinsare vel sonare instrumentum cu- juscumque generis," &c, &c. As the Minstrel was termed in French Jon- gleur and Jiigleur ; so he was called in Spanish Jutglar and Juglar. " Tenemos canciones y versos para recitar muy antiguos y memorias ciertas de los Juglares, que assistian en los banquetes, como los que pinta Homero." Prolog, a las Corned, de Cervantes, 1749, 4to. " El anno 1328, en las siestas de la Coro- nacion del Rev, Don Alonso el IV. de-Ara- * •• Romanset Jutglar canta alt veux .... devant lo eenjror Rey." Chron. d'Aragon, apud Du Cange, iv. 771. gon .... * el Juglar Ramaset canto una Villanesca de la Composicion del .... infante [Don Pedro] y otro Juglar, llamado' Novellet, recitd y represents en voz y sin can tar mas de GOO versos, que hizo el Infante en el metro que 11am aban Rima Vulgar." Ibid. " Los Trobadores inventaron la Gaya Cien- cia . . . . estos Trobadores eran casi todos de la prim era Nobleza. Es verdad, que ya entonces se havian entrometida entre las diversiones Cortesanos, los Contadores, los Cantores, los Juglares, los Truanez, y los Bit/ones." Ibid. In England the King's Juglar continued to have an establishment in the royal house- hold clown to the reign of Henry VIII. [vid. Note (C c) ]. But in what sense the title was there applied does not appear. In Barklay's Egloges, written circ. 1514, Juglers and Pipers are mentioned together. Egl. iv. (vid. T. Warton's Hist. ii. 254). (R) "A valiant warrior, named Taillefer," &c] See Du Cange, who produces this as an instance, " Quod Ministellorum munus interdum prgestabant milites probatissimi. Le Roman De Vacce, MS. " Quant il virent Norman z venir Mout veissiez Engleiz fremir .... Taillefer qui mout bien chantoit, Sur un cheval, qui tost alloit, Devant euls aloit chantant De Kallemaigne et de Roullant, Et d'Olivier de Vassaux, Qui moururent en Rainschevaux. " Qui quidem Taillefer a Gulielmo obtinuit ut primus in hostes irrueret, inter quos fortiter dimicando occubuit." Gloss, torn. iv. 769, 770, 771. " Les anciennes chroniques nous appren- nent, qu'en premier rang de l'Armee Nor- mande, un ecuyer nomme Taillefer, monte" sur un cheval arrne\ chanta la Chanson de Roland, qui fut si long terns dans les bouches des Franc,ois, sans qu'il soit rest6 le moindre fragment. Le Taillefer apres avoir entonn6 la chanson que les soldats repetoient, se jetta le premier parmi les Anglois, et fut tue." [Voltaire Add. Hist. Univ. p. 69.] The reader will see an attempt to restore the Chanson de Roland, with musical notes, in Dr. Burney's Hist. ii. p. 276. — See more concerning the Song of Roland, Series the Third, p. 189. Note (m). NOTES ON THE FOREGOING ESSAY. XXXV (S) "An eminent French writer," &c] M M. l'Eveque de la Ravaliere, qui avoit fait beaucoup de recherches sur nos anciennes Chansons, pretend que c'est a la Normandie que nous devons nos premiers Chansonniers, non a la Provence, et qu'il y avoit panni nous des Chansons en langue vulgaire avant celles de Provenetus, maia posterieurement au Regne Phillippe L, ou a l'an 1100.^ [v. Revolutions de la Langue Franchise, a la suite des Poesies du Roi de Navarre.] " Ce seroit une anteriorite de plus d'une demi siecle a l'epoque des premiers Troubadours, que leur historien Jean de Nostre-dame fixe a l'an 1162,"&c. Pref. a l'Anthologie Franc. 8vo. 17 65. This subject hath since been taken up and prosecuted at length in the Prefaces, &c, to M. Le Grand's "Fabliaux ou Contes du xue et du xine Siecle, Paris, 1788," 5 torn. 12mo., who seems pretty clearly to have established the priority and superior excellence of the old Rimevrs of the North of France over the Troubadours of Provence, &c. (S 2) " Their own native Gleemen or Min- strels must be allowed to exist."] Of this we have proof positive in the old metrical Romance of Horn-Child (Series the Third, No. 1, p. 192), which although from the mention of Sarazens, &c, it must have been written at least after the first crusade in 1096, yet, from its Anglo-Saxon language or idiom, can scarce be dated later than within a cen- tury after the Conquest. This, as appears from its very exordium, was intended to be sung to a popular audience, whether it was composed by, or for a Gleeman or Minstrel. But it carries all the internal marks of being the production of such a composer. It appears of genuine English growth ; for, after a careful examination, I cannot discover any allusion to French or Norman customs, manners, composition, or phraseology: no quotation, ''As the Romance sayth:" not a name or local reference, which was likely to occur to a French Rimeur. The proper names are all of northern extraction : Child Horn is the son of Alio/ (i. e, Olaf or Olave), king of Sudenne (I suppose Sweden), by his Queen Godylde or Gorhjlt. Atlivlf and Fykenyld are the names of subjects. Eylmer or Aylmere is king of We.stnexse (a part of Ireland), Rijme- nyld is his daughter; as Erminyld is of an- other king Thurstan; whose sons ure'Athyld and Beryld. Athdbrus is steward of king Aylmer, &c„ &c. All these savour only of a Northern origin, and . the whole piece is exactly such a performance as one would expect from a Gleeman or Minstrel of the North of England, who had derived his art and his ideas from his Scaldic predecessors there. So that this probably is the original from which was translated the old French fragment of Dan Horn, in the Harleyan MS. 527, mentioned by Tyrwhitt (Chaucer iv. 68), and by T. Warton (Hist. i. 38), whose extract from Horn-Child is extremely incorrect. Compare the style of Child-Horn with the Anglo-Saxon specimens in short verses and rhyme, which are assigned to the century succeeding the Conquest, in Hickes's The- saurus, torn. i. cap. 24, p. 224 and 231. (T) " The different production of the se- dentary composer and the rambling Min- strel."] Among the old metrical romances, a very few are addressed to readers, or men- tion reading : these appear to have been composed by writers at their desk, and ex- hibit marks of more elaborate structure and invention. Such is Eglamovr of Artas (Se- ries the Third, No. 20, p. 194), of which' I find in a MS. copy in the Cotton Library, A 2, folio 3, the II Fitte thus concludes : " . . . . thus ferr have I red." Such is Ipomydon (Series the Third, No. 23, p. 195), of which one of the divisions (Sign. E. ii. b. in pr. copy) ends thus, " Let hym go, God hym spede, Tyll efte-soone we of him reed" [i. e. read]. So in Amys and Amylion* (Series the Third, No. 31, p. 195), in sta. 3d we have, " In Geste as we rede :" * It ought to ha^e been observed in its proper place in Series the Third Xo. 31. p. 195, that Amys and Amylicm were no otherwise •' Brothers," than as being fast friends : as was suggested by the learned Dr. Samuel Pegge. who was so obliging as to favour the Essayist formerly with a curious transcript of this poem accompanied with valuable illustra- tions. &c. ; and that it was his opinion that both the fragment of th3 ■' Lady Bellcsrt." mentioned in the same No. 31. and also the mutilated Tale, No. 37 (p. 37V were only imperfect copies of the above romance of '-Amys and Amylion," which contains the two lines quoted in No. 37. NOTES ON THE FOREGOING ESSAY. and similar phrases occur in stanzas 34, 125, 140, 196, &c. These are all studied compositions, in which the story is invented with more skill and ingenuity, and the style and colouring are of superior cast to such as can with sufficient probability he attributed to the minstrels themselves. Of this class, I conceive the romance of Horn-Child (mentioned in the last note (S 2) and in Series the Third, No. 192, p. 2), which, from the naked unadorned simplicity of the story, I would attribute to such an origin. But more evidently is such the Squire of Low Degree (Series the Third, No. 24, p. ), in which is no reference to any French original, nothing like the phrase, which so frequently occurs in others, "As the romance sayth,"* or the like. And it is just such a rambling performance as one would expect from an itinerant Bard. And Such also is A It/tell Geste of Robyn Hode, &c, in 8 Fyttes, of which are extant two editions, 4to., in black-letter, described more fully in page 80 of this work. This is not only of undoubted English growth, but, from the constant satire aimed at abbots and their convents, &c, could not possibly have been composed by any monk in his cell. Other instances might be produced; but especially of the former kind is Syr Lauafal (Series the Third, No. 2, p. 315), the 121st of which has " In romances as we rede." This is one of the best invented stories of that kind, and I believe the only one in which is inserted the name of the author. * Wherever the word romance occurs in these metrical narratives, it hath been thought to afford decisive proof of a translation from the romance or French language. Ac- cordingly it is so urged by T. Warton (i. 146, note) from two passages in the pr. copy of "Sir Eglamour," viz., Sign. E. i. Tn romaunce as we rede. Again in fol. ult. In romaunci this cronycle is. But in th- Cotton .MS. of the original the first passage is As T herde a Clerke rede. And the other thus, In Kome this Gegt cronycled ys. So that T b 'li rve references to •• the Uomaunce," or the like, wen- often m ire e pletive phrases inserted by the oral reciters: .one of whom I conceive had altered or corrupted the old " Syr Eglamour." in the manner that the copy was printed. (T 2) " Royer or Raherus the King's Min- strel."] He is recorded by Leland undei both these names, in his Collectanea, scil. vol. 1, p. Gl. " Hospitule S. Bartliolomcei in West Smith- fehle in London. " Royer Mimus Regis fundator." " Hosp. Sti. Bartliol. Londini. " Raherus Mimus Regis H. 1, primus funda- tor, an. 1102, 3 H. 1, qui fundavit etiam Priorat. Sti. Barthol." Ibid, page 99. That Mimus is properly a Minstrel in the sense affixed to the word in this essay, one extract from the accounts [Lat. Computis] of the Priory of Maxtock, near Coventry, in 1441, will sufficiently show.— Scil. •' Dat. Sex. Mimus Dni. Clynton cantantibus, citharisan- tibus, ludentibus," &c, iiiis. (T. Warton, ii. 106, note q.) The same year, the prior gave to a doctor prcedicans, for a sermon preached to them, only Gd. In the Monasticon, torn. ii. p. 166, 167, is a curious history of the founder of this priory, and the cause of its erection ; which seems exactly such a composition as one of those which were manufactured by Dr. Stone, the famous legend-maker, in 1380 (see T. Warton's curious account of him, in vol. ii. p. 190, note) ; who required no materials to assist him in composing his Narratives, &c, for in this legend are no particulars given of the founder, but a recital of miraculous visions exciting him to this pious work, of its having been before revealed to King Edward the Confessor, and predicted by three Gre- cians, &c. Even his minstrel profession is not mentioned, whether from ignorance or design, as the profession was, perhaps, falling into discredit when this legend was written. There is only a general indistinct account that he frequented royal and noble houses, where he ingratiated himself suae 'date jocu- lari. (This last is the only word that seems to have any appropriated meaning.) This will account for the indistinct incoherent account given by Stow. " Rahere, a pleasant- witted gentleman, and therefore, in his time, called the King's Minstrel." — Survey of Lund. Ed. 1598, p. 308. (U) "In the early times, every harper was expected to sing."] See on this subject King Alfred's version of Caedmon, above in note (II), page xxviii. NOTES ON THE FOREGOING ESSAY. So in Ilorn-Chiltl, King Allof orders his I And that noted boast of Hugh Bigot, Earl steward Athelbrus to of Norfolk, in the same reign of King Henry " teehe him of harpe and of song." In the Squire of Lowe Degree, the king offers to his daughter, " Ye shall have harpe, sautry,* and song." And Chaucer, in his description of the Limitour or Mendicant Friar, speaks of harp- ing as inseparable from singing (i. p. 11, ver. 268). " in his harping, whan that he hadde songe." (U2) "As the most accomplished," &c] See Hoveden, p. 103, in the following passage, which had erroneously been applied to King Ri-jhard himself, till Mr. Tyrwhitt (Chaucer, iv. p. 62) showed it to belong to his Chan- cellor. " Hie ad augmentum et famam sui nominis, emendicata carmina, et rhythmos adulatorios comparabat ; et de regno Franco- rum Cantores et Joculatores muneribus allex- erat, ut de illo canerent in plateis et jam dicebatur ubique, quod non erat talis in orbe." For other particulars relating to this Chancellor, see T. Warton's Hist. vol. ii. Addit. to p. 113 of vol. i. (U 3) "Both the Norman and English languages would be heard at the houses of the great."] A remarkable proof of this is, that the most diligent inquirers after ancient English rhymes find the earliest they can discover in the mouths of the Norman nobles. Such as that of Robert, Earl of Leicester, and his Flemings in 1173, temp. Hen. II. (little more than a century after the Con- quest) recorded by Lambarde in his Diction- ary of England, p. 36. " Hoppe Wyliken, hoppe Wyliken Ingland is thine and myne, &c. * The Harp (Lat. Cithara) differed from the Sautry, or Psaltry (Lat. Psalterium) in that the former was a stringed instrument, and the latter was mounted with wire : there was also some difference in the construction of the bellies, &c. See " Bartholomaeus de proprietatihus rerum," as Englished by Trevisa and Eatman, ed. 1584, in Sir J. Haw- kins' Hist. ii. p. 2S5. II.,vidCamdeni Britannia (art. Suffolk), 1607, folio. " Were I in my castle of Bungey Vpon the riuer of Waueney I would ne care for the king of Cockeney. Indeed, many of our old metrical romances, whether originally English, or translated from the French to be sung to an English audience, are addressed to persons of high rank, as appears from their beginning thus — "Listen, lordings," and the like. These were prior to the time of Chaucer, as appears from vol. iii. p. 190, et seqq. And yet to his time our Norman nobles are supposed to have adhered to their French language. (V) " That intercommunity, &c, between the French and English minstrels," &c] This might perhaps, in a great measure, be referred even to the Norman Conquest, when the vic- tors brought with them all their original opi- nions and fables ; which could not fail to be adopted by the English Minstrels and others who solicited their favour. This interchange, &c, between the Minstrels of the two nations would be afterwards promoted by the great intercourse produced among all the nations of Christendom in the general crusades, and by that spirit of chivalry which led knights, and their attendants, the heralds, and min- strels, &c, to ramble about continually from one court to another, in order to be present at solemn tournaments, and other feats of arms. (V 2) " Is not the only instance," &c] The constant admission granted to minstrels was so established a privilege, that it became a ready expedient to writers of fiction. Thus, in the old romance of Horn-Child, the Prin- cess Rymenyld being confined in an inacces- sible castle, the prince, her lover, and some assistant knights, with concealed arms, as- sume the minstrel character, and approaching the castle with their "Gleyinge" or Min- strelsy, are heard by the lord of it, who being informed they were " harpeirs, jogelers, and fythelers,"* has them admitted, when * Jogeler (Lat. Joculator) was a very ancient name for a Minstrel. Of what nature the performance of the Jocu- XXXVU1 NOTES ON THE FOREGOING ESSAY. Horn sette him abenche [i. e. on a bench.] Is [i. e. his] harpe he gan clenche He made Rymenild a lay. This sets the princess a weeping, and leads to the catastrophe ; for he immediately ad- vances to " the horde," or table, kills the ravisher, and releases the lady. (V 3) . . " assumed the dress and charac- ter of a harper, &c."] "We have this curious historiette in the records of Lacock Nunnery, in Wiltshire, which had been founded by this Countess of Salisbury. See Vincent's Discovery of Errors in Brooke's Catalogue of Nobility, &c, folio, page 445-6, &c. Take the following extract (and see Ihigdale's Ba- ron, i. p. 175). " Ela uxor Gullielmi Longespee primi, nata fuit apud Ambresbiriam, patre et matre Norman nis. " Pater itaque ejus defectus senio migravit ad Christum, A. D. 1196. Mater ejus ante biennium obiit Interea Domina cha- rissima clam per cognatos adducta fuit in Norman niam, et ibidem sub tut& et arctS custodial nutrita. Eodem tempore in Anglia fuit quidam miles nomine Gulielmus Talbot, qui induit se habitum Peregrini [Anglice, a pilgrim] in Normanniam transfretavit et mo- ratus per duos annos, hue atque illuc vagans, ad explorandam dominam Elam Sarum. Et ilia invents exuit habitum Peregrini, et induit se quasi Cytharisator et curiam ubi moraba- tur intravit. Et ut erat homo Jocosus, in Gestis Antiquorum valde peritus, ibidem gra- tanter fuit acceptus quasi familiaris. Et quando tempus aptum invenit, in Angliam repatriavit, habens secum istam venerabilem dominam Elam et haeredam comitatus Sa- rum ; et earn Regi Richardo praesentavit. Ac ille laetissime earn suscepit, et Fratri suo Guilellmo Longespee maritavit hitnr was, we may learn from the Register of St. Swithin's Priory at Winchester (T. Warton, i. 69). "Et cantabat Joculator quidam nomine HerebertusCanticum Uolbrondi, necnon Gestum Emme regine a judicio ignis liberate, in aula Prions." His instrument was sometimes the Fythele, or Fiddle, Lat. Fidicula : which occurs in the Anglo-Saxon Lexicon. Ou this subject we have a curious passage from a MS. of the Lives of the Saints in metre, supposed to be earlier than the year 1200 (T. Warton's Hist. i. p. 17), viz., Christofre him served longe The kynge loved melodye much of fithele and of songe: So that his Jdgeler on a day beforen him gon to pleye faste, And in a tyme he nemped in his song the devil at taste. "A. D. 1226, Dominus Guill. Longespee primus nonas Martii obiit. Ela vero uxor ejus 7 annis supervixit Una die duo monasteria lundavit primo mane xvi Kal. Maii, A. D. 1232, apud Lacock, in quo sanctaa degunt Canoniss-ae Et Henton post no- nam, anno vero aetatis suae xlv., &c." (W) For the preceding account, Dugdale refers to Monast. Angl. i. [r. ii.] p. 185, but gives it as enlarged by D. Powel, in his Hist, of Cambria, p. 196, who is known to have followed ancient Welsh MSS. The words in the Monasticon are — " Qui accersitis Sutori- bus Ccstrise et Histrionibus, festinanter cum exercitu suo venit domino suo facere succur- sum. Walenses vero videntes multitudinem magnam venientem, relicts obsidione fuge- runt . . . Et propter hoc dedit comes antedic- tus . . . Constabulario dominationem Sutorum et Histrionum. Constabularius vero retinuit sibi et haeredibus suis dominationem Suto- rum : et histrionum dedit vero Seneschallo." (So the passage should apparently be pointed; but either et or vero seems redundant.) We shall see below in note (Z) the proper import of the word Histriones : but it is very remarkable that this is not the word used in the grant of the Constable De Lacy to Dutton, but " Magisterium omnium Lec- catorum et Meretricium totius Cestreshire, sicut liberius ilium [sic] Magisterium teneo de Comite." (Vid. Blount's Ancient Tenures, p. 156.-) Now, as under this grant the heirs of Dutton confessedly held for many ages a magisterial jurisdiction over all the Minstrels and Musicians of that County, and as it could not be conveyed by the word Meretricis, the natural inference is that the Minstrels were expressed by the term Leccatores. It is true, Du Cange, compiling his Glossary, could only find in the writers he consulted this word used in the abusive sense, often applied to every synonyme of the sportive and dissolute Minstrel, viz. Scurra, vaniloqmis, parasitus, epulo, &c. (This I conceive Xo be the proper arrangement of these explanations, which only express the character given to the Min- strel elsewhere : see Du Cange passim and notes (C), (E), (F), (I). But he quotes an an- cient MS. in French metre, wherein the Lec- cour (Lat. Leccator) and the Minstrel are joined together, as receiving from Charle- magne a grant of territory of Provence, and NOTES ON THE FOREGOING ESSAY. XXXIX from whom the Provencal Troubadours were derived, &c. See the passage above in note (C) page xxvi. The exception in favour of the family of Dutton is thus expressed in the Statute Anno 39 Eliz. chap, iv., entitled, " An Act for pun- ishment of Rogues, Vagabonds, and Sturdy Beggars." "g II All Fencers, Bearwards, Com- mon Players of Enterludes, and Minstrels, wandering abroad, (other than Players of Enterludes belonging to any Baron of this Realm, or any other honourable Personage of greater degree, to be authorised to play under the hand and seal of arms of such Ba- ron or Personage:) all Juglers, Tinkers, Ped- lers, &c. . . . shall be adjudged and deemed Rogues, Vagabonds, and Sturdy Beggars, &c. " \ X. Provided always that this Act, or anything herein contained, or any authority thereby given, shall not in any wise extend to disinherit, prejudice, or hinder John Dut- ton of Dutton, in the County of Chester, Es- quire, his heirs or assigns, for, touching or concerning any liberty, preheminence, autho- rity, jurisdiction, or inheritance, which the said John Dutton now lawfully useth,or hath, or lawfully may or aught to use within the County-Palatine of Chester, and the County of the City of Chester, or either of them, by. reason of any ancient Charters of any Kings of this Land, or by reason of any prescription, usage, or title whatsoever." The same clauses are renewed in the last Act on this subject, passed in the present Reign of Geo. III. (X) " Edward I at the knighting of his son," &c] See Nic. Triveti Annales, Oxon. 1719, 8vo. p. 342. " In festo Penteccstes Rex filium suum ar- mis militaribus cinxit, et cum eo Comites Warenniae et Arundeliae, aliosque, quorum numerus ducentos et quadraginti dicitur ex- cessisse. Eodem die cum sedisset Rex in mensa, novis militibus circumdatus, ingressa Ministrellorum Multitudo, portantium multi- plici ornatu amictum, ut milites prsecipue novos invitarent, et inducerent, ad vovendum factum armorum aliquod coram signo." (Y) " By an express regulation, &c."] See in [Iearne's Append, ad Lelandi Collectan. vol. vi. p. 36. " A Dietarie, Writtes published after the Ordinance of Earles and Barons, Anno Dom. 1315." " Edward by the grace of God, &c, to She- riffes, &c, greetying. Forasmuch as many idle persons, under colour of Mynstrel- sie, and going in messages, and other faigned busines, have ben and yet be receaved in other mens houses to meate and drynke, and be not therwith contented yf ihey be not largely consydered with gyftes of the Lordes of the houses : &c. . . We wyllyng to restrayne suche outrageous enterprises and idleness, &c. have ordeyned that to the houses of Prelates, Earles, and Barons, none resort to meate and drynke, unlesse he be a Mynstrel, and of these Minstrels that there come none except it be three or four Minstrels of honour at the most in one day, unlesse he be desired of the Lorde of the House. And to the houses of meaner men that none come unlesse he be desired, and that such as shall come so, holde themselves contented with meate and drynke and with such curtesie as the Maister of the House wyl shewe unto them of his owne good wyll, without their askyng of anythyng. And yf any one do agaynst this Ordinaunce, at the firste time he to lose his Minstrelsie, and at the second tyme to forswea.e his craft, and never to be receaved for a Minstrel in any house Yeven at Langley the vi. day of August in the ix. yere of our reigne." These abuses arose again to as great a height as ever in little more than a century after, in consequence, I suppose, of the licen. tiousness that crept in during the civil wars of York and Lancaster. This appears from the Charter 9 E. IV., referred to in p. xliii. " Ex querulosa, insinuatione. . . Ministrallo- rum nostrorum accepimus qualiter nonnulli rudes agricolae et artifices diversarum miste- rarum regni nostri Anglic, finxerunt se fore Ministrallos, quorum aliqui Liberatam nos- tram eis minime datam portarent, seipsos etiam fingentes esse Minstrallos nostros pro- prios, cujus quidem Liberatae ac dictaa artis sive occupationis Ministrallorum colore, in diversis parti bus regni nostri praedicti grandes pecuniarum exactiones de ligeis nostris de- ceptive colligunt, &c." Abuses of this kind prevailed much later in Wales, as appears from the famous Com- mission issued out in 9 Eliz. (1567), for be- stowing the Silver Harp on the best Minstrel, Rythmer, or Bard, in the principality of NOTES ON THE FOREGOING ESSAY. North Wales ; of which a fuller account will be given below in note (B b 3). (Z) "It is thus related by Stow."] See his Survey of London, &c, fol. 1G33, p. 521. [Ace. of Westm. Hall.] Stow had this pas- sage from Walsingham's Hist. Ang. . . " In- travit quaedam mulier ornata Histrionali ha- bitu, equum bonum insidens Histrionaliter phaleratum, quas mensas more Histrionum circuivit; et tandem ad Regis mensam per gradus ascendit, et quandam literam coram rege posuit, et retracto fraeno (salutatis ubi- que diseumbentibus) prout venerat ita reces- sit," &c. Anglic. Norm. Script. &c, Franc. 1603, fol. p. 109. It may be observed here that Minstrels and others often rode on horseback up to the royal table, when the Kings were feasting in their great halls. See in this work, page 73. The answer of the Porters (when they were afterwards blamed for admitting her) also deserves attention. " Non esse moris domus regioe Histriones ab ingressu quomo- dolibet prohibere," &c. Walsingh. That Stow rightly translated the Latin word Hisirio here by Minstrel, meaning a musician that sung, whose subjects were sto- ries of chivalry, admits of easy proof; for in the Gesta Romanorum, chap, cxi., Mercury is represented as coming to Argus in the cha- racter of a Minstrel ; when he incipii, more Histrionico, fabulas dicere, et plerumque can- tare." (T. Warton, iii. p. li.) And Muratori cites a passage in an old Italian chronicle, wherein mention is made of a stage erected at Milan " Super quo Histriones eanta- bant, sicut modo cantatur de Rolando et Oli- verio." Antich. Ital. li. p. 6. (Observ. on the Statutes, 4th edit. p. 362.) See also (E) pag. xxvi. &c. (F) p. xxvii. &c. (A a) "There should seem to have been women of this profession."] This may be inferred from the variety of names appropri- ated to them in the middle ages, viz. : Anglo- Sax. Irlipmeben, [Glee-maiden] &c. Eli- y penbe-niaben, Lrlypbybene j*Cjia. (Vid. supra p. xxvii.) Fr. Jengleresse, Med. Lat. Joculatrix, 3finislrallissa, Fcemina Minis- frriolis, &c. (Vid. Du Cange Gloss, and Snppl.j See what is said in page xix. concerning the " sisters of the fraternity of Minstrels ;" see also a passage quoted by Dr. Burney (ii. 315), from Muratori, of the Chorus of "Women singing through the streets accompanied with musical instruments in 12G8. Had the female described by Walsiogham been a Tombestere, or dancing-woman (see Tyr- whitt's Chaucer, iv. 307, and v. Gloss.), that historian would probably have used the word Saltatrix. (See T. Warton, i. 240, note m.) These Sal tutrices vt eve prohibited from exhi- biting in churches and church-yards along with Joculalores, Histriones, with whom they were sometimes classed, especially by the rigid ecclesiastics, who censured, in the sever- est terms, all these sportive characters. (Vid. T. "Warton, in loco citato, et vide supra not. (E) (F) &c.) And here I would observe, that although Fauchet and other subsequent writers affect to arrange the several members of the min- strel profession, under the different classes of Troverres (or Troubadours) Chanierres, Conteours, and Jugleurs, &c. (vid. page xlviii.), as if they were distinct and separate orders of men, clearly distinguished from each other by these appropiate terms, we find no suffi- cient grounds„for this in the oldest writers : but the general names in Latin, Histrio, Mimus, Joculator, Mi nistr alius, &c; in French, Menestrier, Menestrel, Jongleur, Jugleur, &c. ; and in English, Jogeleur, Jugler, Minstrel, and the like, seem to be given them indiscrimi- nately. And one or other of these names seems to have been sometimes applied to every species of men whose business it was to entertain or divert { j ocular i) whether with poesy, singing, music, or gesticulation, singly, or with a mixture of all these. Yet as all men of this sort were considered as belonging to one class, order, or community (many of the above arts being sometimes exercised by the same person), the}' had all of them doubt- less the same privileges, and it equally throws light upon the general history of the profes- sion, to show what favour or encouragement was given, at any particular period of time, to any one branch of it. I have not therefore thought it needful to inquire, whether, in the various passages quoted in these pages, the word Minstrel, &c, is always to be understood in its exact and proper meaning of a singer to the harp, &c. That men of very different arts and talents were included under the common name of NOTES ON THE FOREGOING ESSAY. xli Minstrels, &c. appears from a variety of authorities. Thus we have Menestrels de Trompes, and Menestrels de BoucJie, in the Suppl. to Du Gauge, c. 1227, and it appears still more evident from an old French Rhymer, whom I shall quote at large. "Le Quens* manda les Menestrels; *Le [Compte. Et si a fetf crier entre els, t fait. Qui la meillor truffej sauroit % Sornette, Dire, ne faire, qu'il auroit [a gihe, a jest, Sa robe d'escarlate neuve. [or flouting.] L'uns Menestrels a l'autre reuve Fere son mestier, tel qu'il sot, Li uns fet 1'yvre, l'autre sot ; Li uns chante, li autre note ; Et li autres dit la riote ; Et li autres la jenglerie ;§ $ Janglerie, ba- Cil qui sevent de jonglerie [Ullage, rail- Vielent par devant le Conte ; [lerie. Acuns ja qui fabliaus conte II i ot dit mainte risee," &c. Fabliaux et Contes, 12mo. torn. ii. p. 161. And what species of entertainment was af- forded by the ancient Jvggleurs, we learn from the following citation from an old ro- mance, written in 1230. " Quand les tables ostees furent Ciljuggleurs in pies esturent S'ont vielles, et harpes prisees Chansons, sons, vers, et reprisas Et gestes, chante nos ont." Sir J. Hawkins, ii. 44, from Andr. Du Chene. See also Tyrwhitt's Chaucer, iv. p. 299. All the before-mentioned sports went by the general name of Ministralcia, Ministellorum Ludicro, &c. — "Charta an. 1377, apud Rymer, vii. p. 1G0. ' Peracto autem prandio, ascende- foat D. Rex in cameram suam cum Praslatis, Magnatibus, et Proceribus praedictis : et de- inceps Magnates Milites, et Domini, aliique Generosi diem ilium, usque ad tempus coenas, in Tripediis coreis et solempnibus Ministral- ciis, prre gaudio solempnitat.is illius continu- arunt.'" (Du Cange, Gloss. 773.) [This was at the Coronation of King Richard II.] It was common for the minstrels to dance, as well as to harp and sing (see above, note (E). p. xxvi.) Thus, in the old romance of Tirante el Blanco ; Val. 1511, the 14th cap. lib. ii. begins thus, " Despues que las mesas fueron alcadas vinieron los ministriles ; y delante del Rey, y de la Reyna danc,aron un rato : y despues truxeron colacion." They also probably, among their other feats, played tricks of sleight of hand, hence the word Jugler came to signify a performer of legerdemain: and it was sometimes used in this sense (to which it is now appropriated) even so early as the time of Chaucer, who in his Squire's Tale (ii. 108) speaks of the horse of brass, as like An apparence ymade by som magike, As Jogelours plaien at thise festes grete. See also the Fre x-'s Tale, p. 279, v. 7049. (A a 2) " Females playing on the Harp."] Thus in the old Romance of "Syr Degore (or Degree," Series the third, No. 22, p. 194), we have [Sign. D. i.] The lady, that was so faire and bright, Upon her bed she sate down ryght ; She harped notes swete and fine. [Her mayds filled a piece of wine.] And Syr Degore sate him downe, For to hear the harpes sowne. The 4th line being omitted in the pr. copy is supplied from the folio MS. In the " Squyr of lowe Degree" (Series the Third, No. 24, p. 195), the king says to his daughter [Sign. D. i.] Ye were wont to harpe and syng, And be the meryest in chamber comyng. In the "Carle of Carlisle," (Series the Third, No. 193, p. 29.) we have the following pas- sage. [Folio MS. p. 451, v. 217.] Downe came a lady fnire and free, And sett her on the Carles knee: Onewhiles shee harped another whiles song, Both of paramours and louinge amonge. And in the Romance of "Eger and Grime" (Series the Third, No 12, p. 194), we have [Ibid. p. 127, col. 2] in Part, I. v. 263. The lalve fayre of hew and hyde Shee sate downe by the bed side xlii NOTES ON THE FOREGOING ESSAY. Shee laid a souter [psaltry] vpou her knee Theron shee plaid full lovesomelye. . . . And her 2 maydens sweetlye sange. A similar passage occurs in Part IV. v. 129, (page 136.) — But these instances are suffi- cient. (Bb) "A charter .... to appoint a king of the -Minstrels."] Entitled Carta le Roy de Mialstraulx (in Latin Histriones, vid. Plott, p. 437). A copy of this charter is printed in Monast. Anglic, i. 355, and in Blount's Law Diction. 1717. (art. King.) That this was a most respectable officer, both here and on the Continent, will appear from the passages quoted below, and there- fore it could only have been in modern times, when the proper meaning of the original terms Ministraulz, and Histriones, was forgot, that he was called King of the Fidlers ; on which subject see below, Note (E e 2). Concerning the King of the Minstrels we have the following curious passages collected by Du Cange, Gloss, iv. 773. " Rex Ministellorum ; supremus inter Mi- nistdhs: de cujus munere, potestate in cseteros Ministellos agit Charta Henrici IV. Regis Angliae in Monast. Anglicano, torn. i. pag. 353. Charta originalis an. 1338. Je Robert Caveron Roy des Menestreuls du Royaume de France. Alige ann. 1357 et 1362. Copin de Brequin Roy des Menestres du Royaume de France. Computum de auxiliis pro redemptione Regis Johannis, ann. 1367. Pour une Couronne d'argent qu'il donna le jour de la Tiphiane au Roy des Menestrels. "Regestum Magnorum Dierum Trecensium an. 1296. Super quod Joannes dictus Char- millons Juglator, cui Dominus Rex per suas litems tanquam Regem Juglatorum in civi- fcate Trecensi Magisterium Juglatorum, quem- a l,n > lum suae placeret voluntati, conces- serat." Gloss, c. 1587. There is a very curious passage in Pas- quier's " Recherches de la France/' Paris, 1633, folio, liv. 7, ch. 5, p. 611, wherein he appears to be at a loss how to account for the title of Le Roy assumed by the old composers of metrical Romances ; in one of which the author expressly declares himself to have been a Minstrel. The solution of the diffi- culty, that he had been Le Roy des Menestrels, will be esteemed more probable than what Pasquier here advances ; for I have never seen the title of Prince given to a Minstrel, &c, scil. — " A nos vieux Poetes . . . com me . . fust qu'ils eussent certain jeux de prix en leurs Poesies, ils .... honoroient du nome, tan tot de Roy, tan tot de Prince, celuy qui avoit le mieux faict comme nous voyons entre les Archers, Arbalestlers, et Harquebusiers estre fait le semblable. Ainsi l'Autheur du Roman d'Oger le Danois s'appelle Roy. " Icy endroict est cil Livre finez Qui des enfans Oger est appellez Or vueille Diex qu'il soit parachevez En tel maniere kestre n'en puist blamez Le Roy Adams [r. Adenes] ki iF est rimez. "Et en celuy de Cleomades, " Ce Livre de Cleomades Rime je le Roy Adenes Menestre au bon Due Henry. " Mot de Roy, qui seroit tres-mal approprie a un Menestrier, si d'ailleurs on ne le rappor- toit a un jeu du priz : Et de faict il semble que de nostre temps, il y en eust encores quelque remarques, en ce que le mot de Jou- ingleur s'estant par succession de temps tourne en batelage, nous avons veu en nostre jeunesse les Jouing leurs se trouver a certain jour tous les ans en la ville de Chauny en Pi- cardie, pour faire moustre de leur mestrier devant le monde, a qui mieux. Et ce que j'en dis icy n'est pas pour vilipender ces anciens Rimeurs, ainsi pour monstrer qu'il n'y a chose si belle qui ne s'aneantisse avec le temps." We see here that in the time of Pasquier the poor Minstrel was sunk into as low esti- mation in France, as he was then or after- wards in England : but by his apology for comparing the Jouingleurs, who assembled to exercise their faculty, in his youth, to the ancient Rimeurs, it is plain they exerted their skill in rhyme. As for King Adenes, or Adenez (whose name in the first passage above is corruptly printed Adams), he is recorded in the " Bi- bliotheques des Romans, Amst. 1735," 12mo. vol. i. p. 232, to have composed the two Ro- mances in verse above mentioned, and a third, entitled Le Roman de Bertm : all three being preserved in a MS. written about 1270. His Bon Due Henry I conceive to have been Henry Duke of Brabant. (B b 2) " King of the Minstrels," &c.J See Antis's Register of the Order of the Gar- NOTES ON THE FOREGOING ESSAY. ter, ii. p. 303, who tells us " The President or Governuur of the Minstrels had the like denominavion of Boy in France and Bur- gundy : and in England, John of Gaunt con- stituted such an officer by a patent; and long before his time payments "were made by the crown to [a] King of the Minstrels by Edw. I. Regi Roberto Ministrallo scutifero ad arma commoranti ad vadia Regis anno 5to. [Bibl. Cotton. Vespas. c. 16, f. 3] ; as likewise [Li- bro Garderob. 25 E. I.] Ministrallis in die nuptiarum Comitissse Holland filise Regis, Regi Pago, Johanni Vidulatori, &c. Morello Regi, &c. Druetto Monthant, et Jacketto de Scot. Regibus, cuilibet eorum xl. s. Regi Pagio de Hollandia, &c. Under Ed. II. we likewise find other entries, Regi Roberto et aliis Ministrallis facientibus Menistrallias [Ministralcias qu.] suas coram Rege. [Bibl. Cotton. Nero. c. 8, p. 84, b. Comp. Garderob.] That king granted Willielmo de Morlee dicto Roy de North, Ministrallo Regis, domos quae fuerunt Johannis le Botoler dicti Roy Brun- haud. [Pat. de terr. forisfact. 16 E. III.]" He adds below (p. 304) a similar instance of a Bex Juglatorum, and that the " King of the Minstrels," at length was styled in France Roy de Violins, (Furetiere Diction. Univers.) as with us " King of the Fidlers ;" on which subject see below, note (E e 2). (B b 3) The Statute 4 Hen. IV. (1402), c. 27, runs in these terms, " Item, pur eschuir plusieurs diseases et mischiefs qont advenuz devaunt ces heures en la terre de Gales par plusieurs WestOurs, Rymours, Minstralx et autres Vacabondes, ordeignez est et establiz qe nul Westour, Rymour, Minstral ne Vaca- bond soit aucunement sustenuz en la terre de Gales pur faire kymorthas ou coillage sur la commune poeple illoeques." This is among the severe laws against the Welsh, passed during the resentment occasioned by the out- rages committed under Owen Glendour ; and as the Welsh Bards had excited their country- men to rebellion against the English Govern- ment, it is not to be wondered, that the Act is conceived in terms of the utmost indigna- tion and contempt against this class of men, who are described as Rymours, Ministralx, which are apparently here used as only synonymous terms to express the Welsh Bards with the usual exuberance of our Acts of Parliament: for if their Ministralx had been mere musicians, they would not have required the vigilance of the English leg- islature to suppress them. It was their songs exciting their countrymen to insurrec- tion which produced "les diseases et mischiefs en la Terre de Gales." It is also submitted to the reader, whether the same application of the terms does not still more clearly appear in the Commission issued in 1567, and printed in Evan Evans'a Specimens of Welsh Poetry, 1764, 4to. p. v., for bestowing the Silver Harp on " the chief of that faculty." For after settingforth "that vagrant and idle persons, naming themselves Minstrels, Ryihners, and Bards, had lately grown into such intolerable multitude within the Principality in North Wales, that not only gentlemen and others by their shameless disorders are oftentimes disquieted in their habitations, but also expert Minstrels and Mu- sicians in tonge and cunynge thereby much discouraged, &c." and " hindred [of] livings and preferment," &c. it appoints a time and place, wherein all " persons that intend to maintain their living by name or colour of Minstrels, Bythmers, or Bards," within five shires of North Wales, " shall appear to show their learnings according^," &c. And the Commissioners are required to admit such as shall be found worthy, into and under the de- grees heretofore in use, so that they «may " use, exercise, and follow the sciences and faculties of their professions in such decent order as shall appertain to each of their de- 1 grees." And the rest are to return to some honest labour, &c, upon pain to be taken as sturdy and idle vagabonds, &c. (B b 4) Holingshed translated this passage from Tho. de Elmham's " Vita et Gesta Hen- rici V.," scil. " Soli Omnipotenti Deo se velle victoriam imputari .... in tantum, quod cantus de suo triumpho fieri, seu per Citha- ristas vel alios quoscunque cantari penitus prohibebat." [Edit. Hearnii, 1727, p. 72.] As in his version Holingshed attributes the making as well as singing ditties to Minstrels, it is plain he knew that men of this profes- sion had been accustomed to do both. (C c) " The Household Book," &c] See Section V. " Of the Nombre of all my lords Ser- vaunts." xliv NOTES ON THE FOREGOING ESSAY. " Item, Mynstrals in Houshold iii. viz. A Taberet, a Luyte, and a Rebecc." [The Re- beck was a kind of Fiddle with three strings.] Sect. XLIV. 3. " Rewardes to his lordship's Servaunts, &c." ,: Item, ]NIy lord usith ande accustomith to gyf yerly, when his lordschipp is at home, to his Minstrallis that be daily in his household, as his Tabret, Lute, and Rebeke, upon New Yeresday in the morn}" nge when they do play at my lordis chamber dour for his Lordschip and my Lady, xx. s. Viz. xiii. s. iiii d. for my Lord ; and vi. 8. viii. d. for my Lady, if sche be at my lords fyndynge, and not at hir owen ; and for playing at my lordis Sone and Heir's chamber doure, the lord Percy, ii. s. And for playinge at the chamber doures of my lords Yonger Sonnes, m} 7 yonge masters, after ziii. d. the pece for every of them. xxiii. iiii. d." Sect XLIV. 2. " Rewards to be geven to strangers, as Players, Mynstralls, or any other, &c. " Furst, my lorde usith and accustomyth to gif to the Kings Jugler; .... when they custome to come unto him yerly, vi. s. viii. d. " Item, my lorde usith and accustomyth to gif yerely to the kings or queenes Bearwarde, if they have one, when they custom to come unto him yerly, — vi. s. viii. d. ' ; Item, my lorde usith and accustomyth to gyfe yerly to every Erles Mynstrellis, when they custome to come to hym yerely, iii. s. iiii. d. And if they come to my lorde seldome, ones in ii or iii yeres, than vi. s. viii. d. " Item, my lorde usith and accustomedeth to gife yerely to an Erls Mynstralls, if he be his speciall lorde, friende, or kynsman, if they come yerely to his lordschip . . . . And, if they come to my 'lord' seldome, ones in ii or iii years . . .' * * * * # # "Item, my lorde usith and accustomyth to gyf yerely a Dookes or Erlis Trumpetts, if they come vi together to his lordschipp, viz. if they come yerly, vi. s. viii. d. And, if they eome but in ii or iii yeres, than x. s. " Item, my lorde usith and accustometh to gife yerly, when his lordschip is at home, to gyf to the Kyngs Shawmes, when they com to my lorde yerely, x. s." I cannot conclude this note without ob« serving, that in this enumeration the family Minstrels seem to have been Musicians only, and yet both the Earl's Trumpets and the King's Shawmes are evidently distinguished from the Earl's Minstrels, and the King's Jugler : Now we find Jugglers still coupled with Pipers m Barklay's Egloges, circ. 1514. (Warton, ii. 254.) (0 c 2) The honours and rewards conferred on Minstrels, &c, in the middle ages were excessive, as will be seen by many instances in these volumes; v. notes (E), (F), &c. But more particularly with regard to English Minstrels, &c, see T. Warton's Hist, of Eng. Poetry, i. p. 89—92, 116, &c, ii. 105, 106, 254, &c. Dr. Burney's Hist of Music, ii. p. 316 —319, 397—399, 427, 428. On this head, it may be sufficient to add the following passage from the Fleta, lib. ii. c. 23. " Officium Elemosinarij est. . Equos relictos, Robas, Pecuniam, et alia ad Elemosinam lar- giter recipere et fideliter distribuere ; debet etiam Regem super Elemosinae largitione crebris summonitionibus stimulare et prseci- pue diebus Sanctorum, et rogare ne Robas suas quae magni sunt precij Histrionibus, Blanditoribus, Adulatoribus, Accusatoribus, vel Menestrallis, sed ad Elemosinae suae in- cremuntum jubeat largiri." Et in c. 72. " Ministralli, vel Adulatoris." (D d) " A species of men who did not sing," &c] It appears from the passage of Erasmus here referred to, that there still ex- isted in England of that species of Jongleurs or Minstrels, whom the French called by the peculiar name of Conteours, or Reciters in prose. It is in his Ecclesiastes, where he is speaking of such preachers as imitated the tone of Beggars or Mountebanks : — " Apud Anglos est similegenus hominum, quales apud Italos sunt Circulatores [Mountebanks] de quibus modo dictum est ; qui irrumpunt in convivia Magnatum, aut in Cauponas Vinarias; et ar- gumentum aliquod, quod edidicerunt, reci- tant ; puta mortem omnibus dominari, aut lau- dem matrimonii. Sed quoniam ea lingua mo- nosyllabis fere constat, quemadmodum Ger- manica ; atque illi [sc. this peculiar species of Reciters] studio vitant cantum, nobis (sc. Erasmus, who did not understand a word of English) latrare videntur verius quam loqui." Opera, torn. v. c. 958. (Jortin, vol. ii. p. 193.) NOTES ON THE FOREGOING ESSAY. As Erasmus was correcting the vice of preach- ers, it was more to his point to bring an in- stance from the Moral Reciters of Prose than from Chanters of Rhyme ; though the latter would probably be more popular, and there- fore more common. (E e) This character is supposed to have been suggested by descriptions of Minstrels in the romance of " Morte Arthur ;" but none, it seems, have been found, -which come nearer to it than the following, which I shall produce, not only that the reader may judge of the re- semblance, but to show how nearly the idea of the Minstrel character given in this Essay corresponds with that of our old writers. Sir Lancelot, having been affronted by a threatening abusive letter, which Mark King of Cornwal had sent to Queen Guenever, wherein he " spake shame by her, and Sir Lancelot," is comforted by a knight named Sir Dinadan, who tells him " I will make a Lay for him, and when it is made, I shall make an Harper to sing it before him. So anon he went and made it, and taught it an Harper, that hyght Elyot ; and when hee could it, hee taught it to many harpers. And so. . . . the Harpers went straight unto Wales and Cornwaile to sing the Lay. . . . which was the worst Lay that ever Harper sung with harpe, or with any other instrument. And [at a] great feast that King Marke made for joy of [a] victorie which hee had, came Eliot the Harper ; . . and because he was a curious Harper, men heard him sing the same Lay that Sir Dinadan had made, the which spake the most vilanie by King Marke of his treason, that ever man heard. When the Harper had sung his song to the end, King Marke was wonderous wroth with him, and said, Thou Harper, how durst thou be so bold to sing this song before me ? Sir, said Eliot, wit you well I am a Minstrell, and I must doe as I am commanded of these Lords that I bear the amies of. And, Sir King, wit you well that Sir Dinadan a knight of the Round Table made this song, and he made me to sing it before you. Thou saiest well, said King Marke, I charge thee that thou hie thee fast out of my sight. So the Harper departed, &c." [Part II. c. 113, ed. 1634. See also Part III. c. 5.] (E r 2) " This Act seems to have put an end to the profession," &c] Although I con- ceive that the character ceased to exist, yet the appellation might be continued, and ap- plied to Fidlers, or other common Musicians : which will account for the mistakes of Sir Peter Leicester, or other modern writers. (See his Historical Antiquities of Cheshire, 1673, p. 141.) In this sense it is used in an Ordinance in the times of Cromwell, (1656,) wherein it is enacted, that if any of the "persons com- monly called Fidlers or Minstrels shall at any time be taken playing, fidling, and making music in any Inn, Ale-house, or Tavern, or shall be taken proffering themselves, or desir- ing, or intreating any. ... to hear them play or make music in any of the places afore- said ;" they are to be ''•adjudged and declared to be rogues, vagabonds, and sturdy beggars." This will also account why John of Gaunt's " King of the Minstrels" at length came to be called, like Le Roy des Violons in France, v. note (B b 2), " King of the Fidlers." See the common ballad entitled " The Pedigree, Education, and Marriage of Robinhood with Clorinda, Queen of Tutbury Feast:" which, though prefixed to the modern collection on that subject,* seems of much later date than most of the others ; for the writer appears to be totally ignorant of all the old traditions concerning this celebrated outlaw, and has given him a very elegant bride instead of his old noted Lemman " Maid Marian ;" who to- gether with his chaplain " Frier Tuck" were his favourite companions, and probably on that account figured in the old Morice Dance, as may be seen by the engraving in Mr. Stee- vens's and Mr. Malone's Editions of Shak- speare: by whom she is mentioned, 1 Hen. IV., act iii. sc. 3. (See also Warton, i. 245. ii. 237.) Whereas, from this ballad's conclu- ding with an exhortation to " pray for the King," and " that he may get children,"&c, * Of the twenty-four songs in what is now called ' : Robin Hood's Garland," many are so modern as not to he found in Pepys' collection completed only in 1700. In the folio MS. (described in p. iii), are ancient fragments of the following, viz., Robin Hood and the Beggar.— Robin Hood and the Butcher.— Robin Hood and Fryer Tucke.— Robin Hood and the Pindar.— Robin Hood and Queen Catharine, in two parts. — Little John and the four Beggars, and "Robine Hoode his death." This last, which is very curious, has no resemblance to any that have been pub- lished; and the others are extremely different from the printed copies ; but they unfortunately are in the beginning of the MS., where half of every leaf hath been torn away. xlvi NOTES ON THE FOREGOING ESSAY. it is evidently posterior to the reign of Queen Elizabeth, and can scarce be older than the reign of King Charles L; for King James I. had no issue after his accession to the throne cf England. It may even have been written since the Restoration, and only express the wishes of the nation for issue on the mar- riage of their favourite King Charles II., on his marriage with the Infanta of Portugal. I think it is not found in the Pepys collec- tion. (F f ) " Historical Song, or Ballad."] The English word Ballad is evidently from the French Balade, as the latter is from the Italian Ballata; which the Crusca Dictionary defines, Canzone, die si canta Ballando, " A Song, which is sung during a Dance." So Dr. Burney [ii. 342], who refers to a collec- tion of Ballette published by Gastaldi and printed at Antwerp in 1596. [iii. 226.] But the word appears to have had an ear- lier origin : for in the decline of the Roman Empire these trivial songs were called Ballis- tea and SaltaUunculce. Ballisteum, Salmasius says, is properly Ballistium. Gr. BaWiasZov " and th BaXXt'sw. . . . BaXXiaia Saltatio. . . . Bal- listium igitur est quod vulgo vocamus Ballet; nam inde deducta vox nostra." Salmas. Not. in Hist. Ang. Scriptores VI. p. 349. In the life of the Emperor Aurelian by Fl. Vopiscus may be seen two of these Ballistea, as sung by the boys skipping and dancing, on account of a great slaughter made by the Emperor with his own hand in the Sarmatic War. The first is, " Mille, mille, mille decollavimus, Unus homo mille decollavimus, Mille vivat, qui mille occidit. Tantum vini habet nemo Quantum fudit sanguinis." The other was "Mille Sarmatas, mille Francos Semel et semel occidimus. Mille Persas quaerimus." Salmasius (in loc.) shows that the trivial Poets of that time were wont to form their metre of Trochaic Tetrametre Catalectics, divided into Distichs. [Ibid. p. 350.] This becoming the metre of the hymns in the Church Service, to which the Monks at length superadded rhyming terminations, was the origin of the common Trochaic Metre in the modern languages. This observation I owe to the learned author of Irish Antiquities, 4to. (F f 2) " Little Miscellanies named Gar- lands," &c] In the Pepysian and other libraries are presented a great number of these in black letter, 12mo., underthe fjllow- ing quaint and affected titles, viz. : 1. A Crowne Garland of Goulden Roses, gathered out of England's Royal Garden, &c, by Richard Johnson, 1612. [In the Bodleian Library.] 2. The Golden Garland of Princely Delight. 3. The Garland of Good-will, by T. D., 1631. 4. The Royal Garland of Love and Delight, by T. D. 5. The Garland of Delight, &c, by Tho. Delone. 6. The Garland of Love and Mirth, by Thomas Lanfier. 7. Cupid's Garland set round with Guilded Roses. 8. The Garland of Withered Roses, by Martin Parker, 1656. 9. The Shepherd's Garland of Love, Loyalty, &c. 10. The Country Garland. 11. The Golden Garland of Mirth and Merriment. 12. The Lover's Garland. 13. Neptune's fair Garland. 14. England's fair Garland. 15. Robin Hood's Garland. 16. The Maid- en's Garland. 17. A Loyal Garland of Mirth and Pastime. 18. A Royal Garland of New Songs. 19. The Jovial Garland, 8th ed., 1691, &c, &c, &c. This sort of petty publications had an- ciently the name of "Penny-Merriments:" as little religious tracts of the same size were called " Penny Godlinesses." In the Pepysian Library are multitudes of both kinds. (G g) " The term Minstrel was not con- fined to a mere Musician in this country any more than on the Continent."] The discus- sion of the question, Whether the term Min- strel was applied in England to Singers and Composers of Songs, &c, or confined to the performers on musical instruments, was pro- perly reserved for this place, because much light hath already been thrown upon the subject in the preceding Notes, to which it will be sufficient to refer the reader. That on the Continent the Minstrel was understood not to be a mere Musician, but a Singer of Verses, hath been shown in Notes (B), (C), (R), (A a), &c* And that he was * That the French Minstrel was a sinner and composer, &c. appears from many passages translated by M. Le Grand, NOTES ON THE FOREGOING ESSAY. xlv: also a maker of them is evident from the passage in (C), p. xxv., where the most noted Romances are said to be of the compo- sition of these men. And in (B b), p. xlii., we have the titles of some of which a Min- strel was the author, who has himself left his name upon record. The old English names for one of this pro- fession were Gleeman,* Jogeler,f and latterly Minstrel ; not to mention Harper, &c. In French he was called Jongleur or Jugleur, Menestrel or Menestrier.% The writers of the middle ages expressed the character in Latin by the words Jocidator, Mimus, Histrio, Minis- trellas, &c. These terms, however modern critics may endeavour to distinguish, and apply them to different classes, and although they may be sometimes mentioned as if they were distinct, I cannot find, after a very strict research, to have had any settled appropriate difference, but they appear to have been used indiscriminately by the oldest writers, espe- cially in England ; where the most general and comprehensive name was latterly Min- strel, Lat. Ministrellas, n Statant, and the Silver Crescent continues to be used by them to this day : they also give three Luces Argent for one of their quarters. f i. e. The English. THE ANCIENT BALLAD OF THE BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE. 61 For I see, by thy bryght bassonet, Thow art sum man of myght, And so I do by thy burnysshed brand©, 95 Thow art an yerle, or ells a knyght.* By my good faythe, sayd the noble Percy, Now haste thou rede full ryght, Yet wyll I never yelde me to the, Why 11 I may stonde and fyght. 100 They swapped together, whyll that they swette, Wyth swordes scharpe and long ; Ych on other so faste they beette, Tyll ther helmes cam in peyses dowyn. The Percy was a man of strenghth, 105 I tell yow in thys stounde, He smote the Dowglas at the swordes length, That he felle to the growynde. The sworde was scharpe and sore can byte, I tell yow in sertayne; 110 To the harte, he cowde hym smyte, Thus was the Dowglas slayne. The stonderds stode styll on eke syde, With many a grevous grone ; Ther the fowght the day, and all the nyght, 115 And many a dowghty man was ' slone\ Ther was no freke, that ther wolde flye, But styffly in stowre can stond, Ychone hewyng on other whyll they myght drye, Wyth many a bayllefull bronde. 120 Ther was slayne upon the Skottes syde, For soth and sertenly, Syr James a Dowglas ther was slayne, That daye that he cowde dye. The yerle Mentaye of he was slayne, 125 Grysely groned uppon the growynd ; Syr Davy Scotte, Syr Walter Steward. Syr ' John' of Agurstonne.f V. 116, slayne, MSS. V. 124, i. e. He died that day. * Being all in armour he could not know him. f Our old minstrel repeats these names, as Homer and Virgil do those of their heroes : "— fortemque Gyam. fortemque Cloanthum, &c, &c. Both the MSS. read here, "Sir James," but see above, pt. I. ver. 112. Syr Charlies Morrey in that place, That never a fote Avoid flye ; 130 Sir Hughe Maxwelle, a lord he was, With the Dowglas dyd he dye. Ther was slayne upon the Skottes syde, For soth as I yow saye, Of fowre and forty thowsande Scotts 135 Went but eyghtene awaye. Ther was slayne upon the Ynglysshe syde, For soth and sertenlye, A gentell knyght, Sir John Fitz-hughe, Yt was the more petye. 140 Syr James Harebotell ther was slayne, For hym ther hartes were sore, The gen tyll ' Lovelle' ther was slayne, That the Perceyes standerd bore. Ther was slayne uppon the Ynglysshperte, For soth as I yow saye : 146 Of nyne thowsand Ynglyssh men Fyve hondert cam awaye : The other were slayne in the fylde, Cryste kepe their sowles from wo, Seying ther was so few fryndes Agaynst so many a foo. 150 Then one the morne they mayd them beeres Of byrch, and hay sell graye ; Many a wydowe with wepyng teyres 155 Ther makes they fette awaye. Thys fraye bygan at Otterborne, Bytwene the nyghte and the day : Ther the Dowglas lost hys lyfe, And the Percy was lede awaye.* 160 Then was ther a Scottyshe prisoner tayne, Syr Hughe Mongomery was hys name, For soth as I yow saye, He borowed the Percy home agayne.f V. 143, Covelle, MS. — For the names in this page see tha Remarks at the end of this ballad. V. 153, one, i. e. on. * sc. Captive. f In the Cotton MS. is the following note on ver. 164, in an ancient hand : " Syr Hewe Mongomery takyn prizonar, was delyvered for the restorynge of Perssy." 62 THE AXCIEXT BALLAD OF THE BATTLE OF OTTERBOURXE. Now let us all for the Percy praye 165 To Jesu most of myght, To bryng his sowle to the blysse of heven, For he was a gentyll knight. *#* Most of the names in the two preced- ing ballads, are found to have belonged to families of distinction in the North, as may be made appear from authentic records. Thus in THE AXCIEXT BALLAD OF CHEVY CHASE. Ver. 112, Agerstone.] The family of Hag- gerstox of Haggerston, near Berwick, has been seated there for many centuries, and etill remains. Thomas Haggerston was among the commissioners returned for North- umberland in 12 Hen. VI., 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 miles 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 consider- ation, in Northumberland. Haddeston, the Caput Baronice of Heron, was their ancient residence. It descended, 25 Edw. I., to the heir general Emiline Heron, afterwards Bar- oness Darcy. — Ford, &c. and Bockenfield (in. com. eodum) went at the same time to Roger Heron, the heir male ; whose descendants were summoned to Parliament : Sir William Heron, of Ford Castle, being summoned 44 Edw. III. Ford Castle hath descended by heirs general to the family of Delaval (men- tioned in the next article.) — Robert Heron, Esq., who died at Newark, in 1753 (father of the Right Hon. Sir Richard Heron, Bart.), was, heir male of the Herons of Bockenfield, a younger branch of this family. — Sir Thom- as Heron Middleton, Bart, is heir male of the Herons of Chip-chase, another branch of the Herons of Ford Castle. Ver. 115, Lovele.] Joh. de Lavale, miles, was sheriff of Northumberland, 34 Hen. VII. Joh. de Lavale, mil., in the 1 Edw. VI. and V. 165, Percyes, Harl. MS. afterwards.^ (Fuller, 313.) In Nicholson this name is spelt Da Lovel, p. 305. Thu seems to be the ancient family of Delavel, of Seaton Delavel, in Northumberland, whose ancestor was one of the twenty-five barons appointed to be guardians of Magna Charta. Ver. 117, Rugbe.J The ancient family of Rokeby, in Yorkshire, seems to be here in- tended. In Thoresby's Ducat. I eod. p, £53. 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 com- mon name of the Rokebys. Ver. 119, Wetharrington.] Rog. de Wid- rington was sheriff of Northumberland in 36 of Edw. III. (Fuller, p. 311.) Joh. de Wid- rington 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, Mongon-byrry.] Sir Hugh Mont- gomery was son of John Lord Montgomery, the lineal ancestor of the present Earl of Eg- linton. Ver. 125, Lwdale.] The ancient family of the Liddels were originally from Scotland, where they were Lords of Liddell Castle, and of the barony of Buff. (Vid. Collins's Peerage.) The head of this family is the present Lord Ra- vensworth, of Ravensworth Castle, in the county of Durham. IX THE BATTLE OF 0TTERB0URXE. Ver. 101, Mentaye.] At the time of this battle, the Earldom of Menteith was possess- ed by Robert Stewart, Earl of Fife, third son of King Robert II., who, according to Buch- anan, 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 shows this bal- lad was not composed before 1449 ; for in that year Alexander Lord of Gordon and Huntley was created Earl of Huntley by King James II. Ver. 105, Bowghan.] The Earl of Buchan at that time was Alexander Stewart, fourth son of Kmg Robert II. Ver. 107. Jhonstone — Maxwell.] These THE JEW'S DAUGHTER. 63 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 Annan dale ; of the latter was Maxwell Earl of Nithsdale. I cannot find that any chief of this family was named Sir Hugh ; but Sir Herbert Max- well was about this time much distinguished. (See Doug.) This might have been original- ly written Sir II. Maxwell, and by tran- scribers converted into Sir Hugh. So above, in No I. v. 00, Richard is contracted into Ric. Ver. 109, Swynton,] 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. Ill, 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 fam- ily 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 de- scended the present Earl of Galloway. Ver. 112, Agurstone.] The seat of this fam- ily was sometimes subject to the Kings of Scotland. Thus Richardus Hagerstoun, 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 tc change their masters, according as the Scot- tish or English arms prevailed. Ver. 129, Morrey.] The person here meant was probably Sir Charles Murray of Cock- poole, who flourished at that time, and was ancestor of the Murrays some time Earls of Annandale. See Doug. Peerage. Ver. 139, Fitz-hughe.] Dugdale (in his Baron, vol. i. p. 403) informs us that John, son of Henry Lord Fitzhugh, was killed at the battle of Otterbourne. This was a North- umberland family. Vid. Dugd. p. 403, col. 1, and Nicholson, pp. 33, 60. Ver. 141, Harebotell.] Harbottle is a vil- lage upon the river Coquet, about 10 miles 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, the seventh, Earls of Northumberland. III. A SCOTTISH BALLAD, Is founded upon the supposed practice of the Jews in crucifying or otherwise mur- thering Christian children, out of hatred to the religion of their parents ; a practice which hath been always alleged in excuse for the cruelties exercised upon that wretched peo- ple, 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 re- cord them, and the eagerness with which they would be catched up by the barbarous popu- lace as a pretence for plunder ; on the other hand, the great danger incurred by the per- 9 petrators, 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 mali- cious. The following ballad is probably built upon some Italian Legend, and bears a great resem- blance 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 murthered by the Jews in the reign of Henry III. The con- clusion of this ballad appears to be wanting: what it probably contained may be seen in Chaucer. As for Mirryland Toun, it is pro- 04 SIR CAULINE. bably a corruption of Milan (called by the Dutch Meylandt) Town : the Pa is evidently the river Po, although the Adige, not the Po, runs through Milan. Printed from a MS. copy sent from Scotland. The rain rins doun through Mirry-land toune, Sae dois it doune the Pa : Sae dois the lads of Mirry-land toune, Quhau they play at the ba\ Than out and cam the Jewis dochter, 5 Said, Will ye cum in and dine ? " I winnae cum in, I cannae cum in, Without my play-feres nine." Scho powd an apple reid and white To intice the zong thing in : Scho powd an apple white and reid, And that the sweit bairne did win. 10 And scho has taine out a little pen-knife, And low down by her gair, Scho has twin'd the zong thing and his life ; 15 A word he nevir spak mair. And out and cam the thick thick bluid, And out and cam the thin ; And out and cam the bonny herts bluid : Thair was nae life left in. 20 Scho laid him on a dressing borde, And drest him like a swine, And laughing said, Gae nou and pley With zour sweit play-feres nine. Scho rowd him in a cake of lead, 25 Bade him lie stil and sleip. Scho cast him in a deip draw-well, Was fifty fadom deip. Quhan bells wer rung, and mass was sung, And every lady went hame : 30 Than ilka lady had her zong sonne, Bot Lady Helen had nane. Scho rowd hir mantil hir about, And sair sair gan she weip : And she ran into the Jewis castel, 35 Quhan they wer all asleip. My bonny Sir Hew, my pretty Sir Hew. I pray thee to me speik. " lady, rinn to the deip draw-well, Gin ze zour sonne wad seik." 40 Lady Helen ran to the deip draw-well, And knelt upon her kne : My bonny Sir Hew, and ze be here, I pray thee speik to me. " The lead is wondrous heavy, mither, 45 The well is wondrous deip, A keen pen-knife sticks in my hert, A word I dounae spiek. Gae hame, gae hame, my mither deir, Fetch me my windling sheet, 50 And at the back o' Mirry-land toun Its thair we twa sail meet." IV. Sit felitu. 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 come illiterate minstrel), 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 complete the story in the manner which appeared to him most inter- esting 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 tho SIR CAULINE. G5 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 be- fore he comes to Pt. 2, v. 110, 111, that the Round Table was not peculiar to the reign of King Arthur, but was common in all the ages of Chivalry. The proclaiming a great tour- nament (probably with some peculiar solem- nities) 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 thre sons' by K. Edw. I., he, at his own costs, caused a tourneament to be held at Kenil- worth ; where he sumptuously entertained an hundred knights, and as many ladies, for three days ; the like whereof was never be- fore in England ; and there began the Round Table (so called by reason that the place wherein they practised those feats was envi- roned 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 tournaments Hastiludia Mensce Rotundas. 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 con- formable to real manners : it being a prac- tice 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 lovers, and the wives those of their husbands.* And even so late as the time of Queen Elizabeth, it is mentioned among the accomplishments of the ladies of her court, that the " eldest of them are skil- ful in surgery." See Harrison's Description of England, prefixed to Hollingshed's Chron- icle, &c. THE FIRST PART. In Ireland, ferr over the sea, There dwelleth a bonnye kinge ; And with him a yong and comlye knighte, Men call him Syr Cauline. * See Northern Antiquities, &c, vol. i. p. 318, vol. ii. p. 100, Memoires de la Chevalerie, torn. i. p. 44. The kinge had a ladye to his daughter, 5 In fashyon she hath no peere ; And princely wightes that ladye wooed To be theyr wedded feere. Syr Cauline loveth her best of all, But nothing durst he saye ; 10 Ne descreeve his counsayl to no man, But deerlye he lovde this may. Till on a daye it so beffell, Great dill to him was dight ; The maydens love removde his mynd, 15 To care-bed went the knighte. One while he spred his amies him fro, One while he spred them nye : And aye ! but I winne that ladyes love, For dole now I mun die. 20 And whan our parish-masse was done, Our kinge was bowne to dyne : He sayes, Where is Syr Cauline, That is wont to serve the wyne ? Then aunswerde him a courteous knighte, 25 And fast his handes gan wringe : Sir Cauline is sicke, and like to dye Without a good leechlnge. Fetche me downe my daughter deere, She is a leeche fulle fine : 30 Goe take him doughe, and the baken bread, And serve him with the wyne soe red ; Lothe I were him to tine. Fair Christabelle to his chaumber goes, Her maydens followyng nye : 35 O well, she sayth, how doth my lord ? sicke, thou fayr ladye. Nowe ryse up wightlye, man for shame. Never lye soe cowardlee ; For it is told in my fathers halle, 40 You dye for love of mee. Fayre ladye, it is for your love That all this dill I drye : For if you wold comfort me with a kisse, Then were I brought from bale to blisse, Y No lenger wold I lye. Sir knighte, my father is a kinge, 1 am his onlye heire ; 66 SIR CAULINE. Alas ! and well you knowe, syr knighte, I never can be youre fere. 50 ladye, thou art a kinges daughter, And I am not thy peere, But let me doe some deedes of amies To be vour bacheleere. 55 Some deedes of armes if thou wilt doe, .My bacheleere to bee, But ever and aye my heart wold rue, Giff harm shuld happe to thee, Upon Elridge hill there groweth a thorne, Upon the mores brodlnge ; 60 And dare ye, syr knighte, wake there all nighte Untill the fayre mornlnge ? For the Eldridge knighte, so mickle of mighte, "Will examine you beforne : And never man bare life awaye, t>5 But he did him scath and scorne. That knighte he is a fond paynim, And large of limb and bone ; And but if heaven may be thy speede, Thy life it is but gone. 70 Nowe on the Eldridge hilles He walke,* For thy sake, faire ladie ; And He either bring you a ready token, Or He never more you see. The lady is gone to her own chambere, Her maydens following bright : Syr Cauline lope from care-bed soone, And to the Eldridge hills is gonej For to wake there all night. Unto midnight, that the moone did rise, He walked up and downe : Then a lightsome bugle heard he blowe Over the bents soe browne ; Quoth hee, If cryance come till my heart, I am ffar from any good towne. 75 80 85 And soone he spyde on the mores so broad, A furyous wight and fell ; A ladye bright his brydle led,. Clad in a fayTe kyrtell : * Perhaps wake, as in ver. 61. And soe fast he called on Syr Cauline, 90 man, 1 rede thee flye, Fur ' but' if cryance comes till my heart, 1 weene but thou mun dye. He sayth, ' No' cryance comes till my heart, Nor in fayth, I wyll not flee ; 95 For, cause thou minged not ChrisJ before, The less me dreadeth thee. The Elridge knighte, he pricked his steed ; Syr Cauline bold abode : Then either shooke his trustye speare, 100 And the timber those two children* bare Soe soone in sunder slode. Then tooke they out theyr two good swordes, And layden on full faste, Till helme and hawberke, mail and sheelde, They all were well-nye brast. 106 The Eldridge knight was mickle of might, And stiffe in stower did stande, 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. Then up Syr Cauline lift his brande All over his head so hye : And here I sweare by the holy roode, Nowe caytiffe, thou shalt dye. 115 Then up and came that ladye brighte, Fast wringing of her hande : For the maydens love, that most you love, Withold that deadlye brande : 120 For the maydens love, that most you love, Now smyte no more I praye ; And aye whatever thou wilt, my lord, He shall thy hests obaye. 124 Now sweare to mee, thou Eldridge knighte, And here on this lay-land, That thou wilt believe on Christ his laye, And thereto plight thy hand : . And that thou never on Eldridge come To sporte,. gamon, or playe : 130 And that thou here give up thy armee Until thy dying daye. * i. e. Knights. See the Preface to Child Waters. V. 109, aukeward, MS. SIR CAULINE. 67 The Eldridge knighte gave up his armes With many a sorrowfulle sighe ; And aware to obe}* Syr Caulines best, Till the tyme that he shold dye. 135 And he then up and the Eldridge knighte Sett him in his saddle anone, And the Eldridge knighte and his ladye To theyr castle are they gone. 140 Then he tooke up the bloudy hand, That was so large of bone, And on it he founde five ringes of gold Of knightes that had be slone. Then he tooke up the Eldridge sworde, 145 As hard as any flint : And he tooke off those ringes five, As bright as fyre and brent. Home then pricked Syr Cauline As light as leafe on tree : 150 I-wys he neither stint ne blanne, Till he his lady see. Then downe he knelt upon his knee Before that lady gay : ladye, I have bin on the Eldridge hills : 155 These tokens I bring away. Now welcome, welcome, Syr Cauline, Thrice welcome unto mee, For now I perceive thou art a true knighte, Of valour bolde and free. 160 ladye, I am thy own true knighte, Thy hests for to obaye : And mought I hope to winne thy love ! — Ne more his tonge colde say. The ladye blushed scarlette redde, 165 And fette a gentill sighe : Alas ! syr knighte, how may this bee, For my degree's soe highe ? But sith thou hast hight, thou comely youth, To be my batchilere, 170 He promise if thee I may not wedde I will have none other fere. Then shee held forthe her lilly-white hand Towards that knighte so free ; He gave to it one gentill kisse, 175 His heart was brought from bale to blisse, The teares sterte from his ee. But keep my counsayl, Syr Cauline, Ne let no man it knowe ; Fur and ever my father sholde it ken, 180 I wot we wolde us sloe. From that day forthe that ladye fayre Lovde Syr Cauline, the knighte: From that day forthe he only joyde Whan shee was in his sight. 185 Yea, and oftentimes they mette Within a fayre arboure, Where they in love and sweet daliaunce Past manye a pleasaunthoure. f4f 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 hitter's description of the lovers meeting in the cave ; and those beautiful lines, which contain a reflection so like this of our poet, *' Every white," &c. viz. " But as extremes are short of ill and good, And tides at highest mark regorge their flood : So fate, that could nomore improve their joy, Took a malicious pleasure to destroy." Tancred, who fondly loved, &c." PART THE SECOND. Everye white will have its blacke, And everye sweete its sowre : This founde the Ladye Christabelle In an untimely howre. For so it befelle, as Syr Cauline 5 Was with that ladye faire, The kinge, her father, walked forthe To take the e,venyng aire : And into the arboure as he went To rest his weary e feet, 10 He found his daughter and Syr Cauline There sette in daliaunce sweet. The kinge hee sterted forthe, i-wys, And an angrye man was hee: Nowe, traytoure, thou shalt hange or drawe, And rewe shall thy ladle. 16 Then forthe Syr Cauline he was ledde, And throwne in dungeon deepe . 68 SIR CAULINE. 25 30 35 And the ladye into a towre so hye There left to wayle and weepe. The queene she was Syr Caulines friend, And to the kinge sayd shee: I praye you save Syr Caulines life, And let him banisht bee. Now, dame, that traitor shall be sent 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. All woe-begone was that gentil knight To parte from his ladye ; And many a time he sighed sore, And cast a wistfulle eye : Faire Christabelle, from thee to parte, Farre lever had I dye. Faire Christabelle, that ladye bright, Was had forthe of the towre ; But ever shee droopeth in her minde, As nipt by an ungentle winde Doth some faire lillye flowre. And ever shee doth lament and weepe To tint her lover soe : Syr Cauline, thou little think'st on mee, But I will still be true. Many a kinge, and manye a duke, And lorde of high degree, Did sue to that fayre ladye of love ; But never shee wolde them nee. When manye a daye was past and gone, Ne comforte she colde finde, 50 The kynge proclaimed a tourneament, To cheere his daughters mind : And there came lords, and there came knights, Fro manye a farre countrye, To break a spere for theyr ladyes love 55 Before that faire ladye. And many a ladye there was sette In purple and in palle : But faire Christabelle soe woe-begone Was the fayrest of them all. But a stranger wight, whom no man knewe, He wan the prize eche daye. His acton it was all of blacke, G5 His hewberke, and his sheelde, Ne noe man wist whence he did come, Ne noe man knewe where he did gone, When they came from the feelde. And now three days were prestlye past 70 In feates of chivalrye, When lo upon the fourthe mornlnge A sorrowfulle sight they see. 40 45 GO Then manye a knight was mickle of might Before his ladye gave : A hugye giaunt stiffe and starke, All foule of limbe and lere ; 75 Two goggling eyen like fire farden, A mouthe from eare to eare. Before him came a dwarffe full lowe, That waited on his knee, And at his backe five heads he bare, 80 All wan and pale of blee. Sir, quoth the dwarffe, and louted lowe, Behold that hend Soldain ! Behold these heads I beare with me ! They are kings which he hath slain. 85 The Eldridge knight is his own couslne, 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 But yette he will appease his wrath Thy daughters love to winne : And but thou yeelde him that fayre mayd, Thy halls and towers must brenne. Thy head, syr king, must goe with mee ; 95 Or else thy daughter deere ; Or else within these lists soe broad Thou must finde him a peere. The king he turned him round aboute, And in his heart was woe : 100 Is there never a knighte of my round table, This matter will undergoe ? Is there never a knighte amongst yee all Will fight for my daughter and mee ? Whoever will fight yon grimme soldan, 105 Right fair his meede shall bee. SIR CAULINE. 69 For bee shall have my broad lay-lands, And of my crowne be heyre ; And he shall winne fayre Christabelle To be his wedded fere. 110 But every knighte of his round table Did stand both still and pale : For whenever they lookt on the grim soldan, It made their hearts to quail. All woe-begone was that fayre laclye, 115 "When she sawe no helpe was nye : She cast her thought on her owne true-love, And the teares gusht from her eye. Dp then sterte the stranger knighte, Sayd, ladye, be not affrayd : 120 He fight for thee with his grimme soldan, Thoughe he be unmacklye made. And if thou wilt lend me the Eldridge sworde, That lyeth within thy bowre, I trust in Christe for to slay this fiende 125 Thoughe he be stiffe in stowre. Goe fetch him downe the Eldridge sworde, The king he cryde, with speede : Nowe heaven assist thee, courteous knighte ; My daughter is thy meede. 130 The gyaunt he stepped into the lists, And sayd, Awaye, awaye : I sweare, as I am the hend soldan, Thou lettest me here all daye. Then forthe the stranger knight he came In his blacke armoure dight ; 136 The ladye sighed a gentle sighe, " That this were my true knighte !" And nowe the gyaunt and knighte be mett "Within the lists soe broad ; 140 And now with swordea soe sharpe of Steele, The3 r gan to lay on load. The soldan strucke the knighte a stroke, That made him reele asyde ; Then woe-begone was that fayre ladye 145 And thrice shee deeply sighcle. The soldan strucke a second stroke, And made the bloude to flowe: All pale and wan was that ladye fayre. And thrice she wept for woe. 150 The soldan strucke a third fell stroke, "Which brought the knighte on his knee: Sad sorrow pierced that ladyes heart, And she shriekt loud shriekings three. The knighte he leapt upon his feete, 155 All recklesse of the pain : Quoth hee, But heaven be now my speede, Or else I shall be slaine. He grasped his sworde with mayne and mighte, And spying a secrette part, 160 He drave it into the soldan's syde, And pierced him to the heart. Then all the people gave a shoute, When they sawe the soldan falle: The ladye wept, and thanked Christ, That had reskewed her from thrall. 165 And nowe the kinge with all his barons Rose uppe from offe his seate, And downe he stepped into the listes, That curteous knighte to greete. 170 But he for payne and lack of bloude Was fallen into a swounde, And there all walteringe in his gore, Lay lifelessse on the grounde. 174 Come downe, come downe, my daughter deare, Thou art a leeche of skille ; Farre lever had I lose halfe my landes, Than this good knighte sholde spille. Downe then steppeth that fayre ladye 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. Sir Cauline juste lifte up his eyes When he heard his ladye crye, 185 O ladye, I am thine owne true love ; For thee I wisht to dye. Then giving her one partinge looke, He closed his eyes in death, Ere Christabelle, that ladye milde, 190 Begane to drawe her breathe. But when she found her comelye knightb Indeed was dead and gone, She layde her pale cold cheeke to his, And thus she made her moane : 1 95 70 EDWARD, EDWARD. staye, my deare and onlye lord, For mee thy faithfulle feere ; ; Tis meet that I shold followe thee, Who hast bought my love soe deare. Then fayntinge in a deadlye swoune, 200 And with a deepe-fette sighe, That burst her gentle hearte in twayne Fayre Christabelle did dye. %* V. (Stotoarfc, (Kbtoarlr, A SCOTTISH BALLAD. From a MS. copy transmitted from Scotland. Quhy dois zour brand sae drop wi' bluid, Edward, Edward? Quhy dois zour brand sae drop wi' bluid? And quhy sae sad gang zee, ? 0, I hae killed my hauke sae guid, 5 Mither, mither : 0, I hae killed my hauke sae guid : And I had nae mair bot hee, 0. Zour haukis bluid was nevir sae reid,. Edward, Edward. 10 Zour haukis bluid was nevir sae reid, My deir son I tell the, 0. 0, I hae killed my reid-roan steid, Mither, mither : 0, I hae killed my reid-roan steid, 15 That erst was sae fair and free, 0. Zour steid was auld, and ze hae gat mair, Edward, Edward : Zour steid was auld, and ze hae gat mair, Sum other dule ze drie, 0. 20 0, I hae killed my fadir deir, Mither, mither: 0, I hae killed my fadir deir, Alas ! and wae is mee, ! And quhat wul ze doe wi' zour towirs and zour ha', 35 That ware sae fair to see, ? He let thame stand til they doun fa', Mither, mither : lie let thame stand til they doun fa', 39 For here nevir mair maun I bee, 0. And quhat wul ze leive to zour bairns and zour wife, Edward, Edward ! And quhat wul ze leive to zour bairns and zour wife, Quhan ze gang ovir the sea, ? The warldis room, let thame beg throw life, 45 Mither, mither : The warldis room, let thame beg throw life, For thame nevir mair wul I see, 0. And quhat wul ze leive to zour ain mither deir, Edward, Edward ? 50 And quhat wul ze leive to zour ain mither deir? My deir son, now tell me, 0. The curse of hell frae me sail ze beir, Mither, mither : | The curse of hell frae me sail ze beir, Sic counseils ze gave to me, 0. 55 And quhatten penance wul ze drie for that, 25 Edward, Edward? And quhattan penance will ze drie for that ? My deir son, now tell me, 0. He set my feit in zonder boat, Mither, mither : 30 He set my feit in zonder boat, And He fare ovir the sea, 0; This curious Song was transmitted to the ! Editor by Sir David Dalrymple, Bart., late And quhat wul ze doe wi' zour towirs and Lord Hailes. zour ha', Edward, Edward? I KING ESTMERE. 71 VI. Jliitg <&$i\\mt This old Romantic Legend (which is given from two copies, one of them in the Editor's folio MS., but which contained very great vari- ations) bears marks of considerable antiqui- ty, and perhaps ought to have taken place of any in this volume. It should seem to have been written while part of Spain was in the hands of the Saracens or Moors ; whose em- pire there was not fully extinguished before the year 1491. The Mahometans are spo- ken of in ver. 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 " Mahound and Termagaunte ;"* and 'so full of zeal for his religion, as to re- turn the following polite message to a Paynim king's fair daughter, who had fallen in love with him, and sent two Saracen knights to in- vite him to her bower : " I wyll not ones stirre off this grounde, To speake with an heathen hounde. Unchristen houndes, I rede you fie, Or I your harte bloud shall se." f Indeed they return the compliment by call- ing him elsewhere "A Christen hounde."t This was conformable to the real manners of the barbarous ages : perhaps the same ex- cuse will hardly serve our bard ; for that the Adland should be found lolling or leaning at his gate (ver. 35) may be thought per- chance a little out of character. And yet the great painter of manners, Homer, did not think it inconsistent with decorum to repre- sent 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. \ So little ought we to judge of an- cient manners by our own. Before I conclude this article, I cannot help observing that the reader will see, in this bal- * See a short Memoir at the end of this Ballad, Note fjf. f Sign. C. ii. b. % Sign. C. i. b. § Odyss. A. 105. 10 lad, the character of the old Minstrels (those successors of the bards) placed in a very re- spectable light ;* here he will see one of them represented mounted on a fine horse, accom- panied with an attendant to bear his harp after him, and to sing the poems of his com- posing. Here he will see him mixing in the company of kings without ceremony : no mean proof of the great antiquity of this poem. The further we carry our inquiries back, the greater respect we find paid to the professors of poetry and music among all the Celtic and Gothic nations. Their character was deemed so sacred, that under its sanction our famous King Alfred (as we have already seenf ) made no scruple to enter the Danish camp, and was at once admitted to the king's head-quarters. £ Our poet has suggested the same expedient to the heroes of this ballad. All the histories of the North are full of the great reverence paid to this order of men. Harold Harfagre, a celebrated king of Nor- way, was wont to seat them at his table above all the officers of his court : and we find an- other Norwegian king placing five of them by his side in a day of battle, that they might be eye-witnesses of the great exploits they were to celebrate. $ As to Estmere's rid- ing into the hall while the kings were at ta- ble, this was usual in the ages of chivalry ; and even to this day we see a relic of this custom still kept up, in the champion's riding into Westminster-hall during the coronation dinner. || 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. * See Note subjoined to 1st Pt. of Beggar of Bednal, &c. f See the Essay on the ancient Minstrels prefixed to this work. X Even so late as the time of Froissart, we find Min- strels and Heralds mentioned together, as those who might securely go into an enemy's country. Cap. cxl. g Bartholini Antiq. Dan. p. 173. Northern Antiquities, &c. vol. i. pp. 386, 389, &c. || See also the account of Edward II , in the Essay on the Minstrels, and Note (X.) 72 KING ESTMERE. Hearken - to me, gentlemen, Come and you shall heave ; He tell you of two of the boldest brethren That ever borne y-were. The tone of them was Adler younge, 5 The fcother was Kyng Estmere ; The were as bolde men in their deeds, As any were farr and neare. As they were drinking ale and wine Within Kyng Estmeres halle : 10 "When will ye marry a wyfe, brother, A wyfe to glad us all ? Then bespake him Kyng Estmere, And answered him hastilee : I know not that ladye in any land 15 That's able* to marry e with mee. Kyng Adland hath a daughter, brother, Men call her bright and sheen e ; If I were kyng here in your stead, That ladye shold be my queene. 20 Saies, Reade me, reade me, deare brother, Throughout merry England, Where we might find a messenger Betwixt us towe to sende. Saies, You shal ryde yourselfe, brother, 25 He beare you companye ; Many throughe fals messengers are deceived, And I feare lest soe shold wee. Thus the renisht them to ryde Of twoe good renisht steeds, 30 And when the came to King Adlands halle, Of redd gold shone their weeds. And when the came to Kyng Adlands hall Before the goodlye gate, There they found good Kyng Adland 35 Rearing himselfe theratt. Now Christ thee save, good Kyng Adland ; Now Christ you save and see, Sayd, You be welcome, King Estmere, Right hartilye to mee. 40 You have a daughter, said Adler younge, Men call her bright and sheene, V. 3, brother, fol. MS. V. 10, his brother's hall, fol. MS. V. 1 4. hartilye, fol. MS.— V. 27, Many a man ... is, fol. MS. * He means fit, suitable. My brother wold marry e her to his wiffe, Of Englande to be queene. Yesterday was att my deere daughter 45 Syr Bremor the Kyng of Spayne ; And then she nicked him of naye, And I doubt sheele do you the same. The Kyng of Spayne is a foule paynim, And ; leeveth on Mahound ; 50 And pitye it were that fayre ladye Shold marry e a heathen hound. But grant to me, sayes Kyng Estmere, For my love I you praye ; That I may see your daughter deere Before I goe hence awaye. 55 Although itt is seven yeers and more Since my daughter was in halle, She shall come once downe for your sake To glad my guestes alle. • 60 Downe then came that ma'yden fayre, 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. The talents of golde were en her head sette, Hanged low downe to her knee ; And everye ring on her small finger Shone of the chrystali free. 70 Saies, God you save, my deere madam ; Saies, God you save and see. Said, You be welcome, Kyng Estmere, Right welcome unto mee. And if you love me, as you saye, 75 Soe well and hartilee, All that ever you are comen about Soone sped now itt shal bee. Then bespake her father deare ; My daughter, I saye naye ; Remember well the Kyng of Spayne ; 80 What he sayd yesterdaye. He wold pull downe my halles and castles, And reave me of my lyfe, V. 46, The king his sonne of Spayn, fol. MS KING ESTMERE. 73 L cannot blame him if he doe, 85 If I reave him of his wyfe. Your castle and your towres, father, Are stronglye built aboute ; And therefore of the King of Spaine Wee neede not stande in doubt. 90 Plight me your troth, nowe, Kyng Estmere, By heaven and your righte hand, That you will marrye me to your wyfe, And make me queen e of your land. Then King Estmere he plight his troth 95 By heaven and his righte hand, That he wolde marrye her to his wyfe, And make her queene of his land. And he tooke leave of that ladye fayre, To goe to his owne countree, 100 To fetche him dukes and lordes and knightes, That marryed the might bee. They had not ridden scant a myle, A myle forth e of the towne, Bnt in did come the Kyng of Spayne, With kempes many one. 105 But in did come the Kyng of Spayne, With manye a bold barone, Tone day to marrye Kyng Adlands daughter. Tother daye to carry e her home. 110 Shee sent one after Kyng Estmere In all the spede might bee, That he must either turne againe and fighte, Or goe home and loose his ladye. One whyle then the page he went, 1 15 Another while he ranne ; Till he had oretaken King Estmere, I wis, he never blanne. Tydings, tydings, Kyng Estmere ! What tydinges nowe, my boye ? 120 O tydinges I can tell to you, That will you sore annoye. You had not ridden scant a mile, • A mile out of the towne, But in did come the Kyng of Spayne 125 With kempes many a one : V. 89, o r the king his sonne of Spaine, t'ol. MS. But in did come the Kyng of Spayne With manye a bold barone, Tone daye to marrye King Adlands daughter, Tother daye to carry her home. 130 My ladye fayre she greetes you well, And ever-more well by mee : You must either turne againe and fighte, Or goe home and loose your ladye. Saies, Reade me, reade me, deere brother, My reade shall ryde* at thee, 136 Whether it is better to turne and fighte, Or goe home and loose my ladye. Now hearken to me sayes Adler yonge, And your reade must risef at me, 1-10 I quieklye will devise a waye To sette thy ladye free. My mother was a westerne woman, And learned in gramarye,£ And when I learned at the sehole, 145 Something shee taught ittmee. There growes an hearbe within this field, And iff it were but knowne, His color, which is whyte and redd, It will make blacke and browne : 150 His color, which is browne and blacke, Itt will make redd and whyte ; That sworde is not in all Englande, Upon his coate will byte. And you shal be a harper, brother, 155 Out of the north countrye ; And He be your boy, soe faine of fighte, And beare your harpe by your knee. And you shal be the best harper, That ever to;>ke harpe in hand ; 160 And I wil be the best singer, That ever sung in this lande. Itt shal be written in our forheads All and in grammarye, That we towe are the boldest men 165 That are in all Christentye. And thus they renisht them to ryde, On tow good renish steedes ; * Sic MS. It should probably be ryse. i. e. my course shall arise from thee. See ver. 140. f Sic MS. % See at the end of this ballad, note ***. KING ESTMERE. And when they came to King Adlands hall, Of redd gold shone their weedes. 170 And whan the came to Kyng Adlands hall, Untill the fayre hall yate, There they found a proud porter Hearing himselfe thereatt. 174 Sayes, Christ thee save, thou proud porter ; Sayes, Christ thee save and see. Nowe you be welcome, sayd the porter, Of what land soever ye bee. Woe beene harpers, sayd Adler younge, Come out of the northe countrye ; 180 Wee beene come hither untill this place, This proud weddinge for to see. Sayd, And your color were weite and redd, As it is blacke and brown e, I wold saye King Estmere and his brother Were comen untill this towne. 186 Then they pulled out a ryng of gold, Layd itt on the porters arme : And ever we will thee, proud porter, Thow wilt saye us no harme. 190 Sore he looked on Kyng Estmere ; And sore he handled the ryng, Then opened to them the fayre hall yates, He lett for no kynd of thyng. Kyng Estmere he stabled his steede 195 Soe fayre att the hall bord ; The froth, that came from his brydle bitte, Light in King Bremors beard. Saies, Stable thy steed, thy proud harper, Saies, stable him in the stalle : 200 It doth not beseeme a proud harper To stable ' him' in a kyngs halle. My lad le he is so lither, he said, lie will doe nought that's meete ; And is there any man in this hall 205 Were able him to beate ? Thou speakest proud words, sayes the King of Spain e, Thou harper, here to mee ; There is a man within this halle Will beate thy ladd and thee. 210 V. 202. To stable his steede, fol. MS. O let that man come downe, he said, A sight of him wold I see ; And when hee hath beaten well my ladd, Then he shall beate of mee. Downe then came the kemperye man 215 And looked him in the eare ; For all the gold, that was under heaven, He durst not neigh him neare. And how nowe, kempe, said the Kyng of Spaine, And how what aileth thee ? 220 He saies, It is writt in his forhead All and in gramarye, That for all the gold that is under heaven I dare not neigh him nye. Then Kyng Estmere pulld forth his harpe, And plaid a pretty thinge : 226 The ladye upstart from the borde, And wold have gone from the king. • Stay thy harpe, thou proud harper, For Gods love I pray thee, 230 For and thou playes as thou beginns, Thou'lt till* my bryde from mee. He stroake upon his harpe againe, And playd a pretty thinge ; The ladye lough a loud laughter, 235 As shee sate by the king. Saies, Sell me thy harpe, thou proud harper, And thy stringes all, For as many gold nobles ' thou shalt have' As heere bee ringes in the hall. 240 What wold ye doe with my harpe, ' he sayd/ If I did sell it yee ? " To playe my wiffe and me a Fitt,f When abed together wee bee." 244 Now sell me, quoth hee, thy bryde soe gay, As shee sitts by thy knee, And as many gold nobles I will give, As leaves been on a tree. And what wold ye doe with my bryde soe gay, Iff I did sell her thee? 250 More seemelye it is for her fayre bodye To lye by mee then thee. * i. e. entice. Vid. Gloss. •f i. e. a tune, or strain of music. See Gloss. KING ESTMERE. 75 Hee played agayne both loud and shrille, And Adler he did syng, " ladye, this is thy .owne true love ; 255 Noe harper, but a kyng. • ' ladye, this is thy owne true love, As playnlye thou mayest see ; And He rid thee of that foule paynim, Who partes thy love and thee." 260 The ladye looked, the ladye blushte, And blushte and lookt agayne, While Adler he hath drawne his brande, And hath the Sowdan slayne. Up then rose the kemperye men, 265 And loud they gan to crye : Ah ! traytors, yee have slayne our kyng, And therefore yee shall dye. Kyng Estmere threwe the harpe asyde, And swith he drew his brand ; 270 And Estmere he, and Adler yonge Right stiffe in stour can stand. And aye their swordes soe sore can byte, Through e help of Gramarye, That soone they have slayne the kempery men, 275 Or forst them forth to flee. Kyng Estmere tooke that fayre ladye, And marryed her to his wiife, And brought her home to merry England With her to leade his life. 280 *.£* The word Gramarye, which occurs sev- eral times in the foregoing poem, is probably a corruption of the French word Grimoire, which signifies a conjuring book in the old French romances, if not the art of necroman- cy itself. fjt Termagaunt (mentioned above), is the name given in the old romances to the god of the Saracens : in which he is constantly link- ed with Mahound, or Mahomet. Thus in the legend of Syr Guy, the Soudan (Sultan) swears, " So helpe me Mahowne of might, And Termagaunt my God so bright." Sign. p. iij. b. Ver. 253, Some liberties have been taken in the following stanzas ; but wherever this Edition differs from the pre- ying, "t hath been brought nearer to the folio MS. This word is derived by the very learned editor of Junius, from the Anglo-Saxon Tyn very, and wagan mighty. — xVs this word had so sublime a derivation, and was so applica- ble to the true God, how shall we account for its being so degraded? Perhaps Tyn-magan 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 de- ities ; and therefore the first Christian mis- sionaries rejected it as profane and improper to be applied to the true God. Afterwards, when the irruptions of the Saracens into Eu- rope, 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 man. ner as they afterwards used the name of Sar- azen 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 appear- ance 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 : " Like Mahound in a play, 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. 2, 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 * See Lysons's "Environs of London, 4to. vol. i. 76 SIR PATRICK SPEXCE. Lands of such Tarmagants." [So the orig. dated May 2, 1593, preserved by the care of the Rev. Thomas Jenjns Smith, Fellow of Dulw. Coll.] — Hence we may conceive the force of Hamlet's expression in-Shakspeare, where, condemning a ranting player, he says, " I could have such a fellow whipt for ore- doing Termagant: it out-herods Herod." A. iii. sc. 3. — By degrees, the word came to be applied to an outrageous turbulent person, and especially to a violent brawling woman ; to whom alone it is now confined, and this the rather as, I suppose, the character of Ter- magant was anciently represented on the stage after the eastern mode, with long robes or petticoats. Another frequent character in the old pa- geants or interludes of our ancestors, was the sowdan, or soldan, representing a grim east- ern tyrant : this appears from a curious pas- sage 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 tormentors might hap to break his head.'' The soiodain 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 gene- rally 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 this volume, of the great intercourse that formerly subsisted between the old minstrels and legendary writers of both nations, and that they mutually borrow- ed each others' romances. VII. Sir f atruft Spna, A SCOTTISH BALLAD, is given from two MS. copies, transmit- ted 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 researches. In the infancy of navigation, such as used the northern seas were very liable to ship- wreck in the wintry months : hence a law was enacted in the reign of James III. (a law which was frequently repeated after- wards), "That there be na schip frauched out of the realm, with any staple gudes, fra the feast of Simons-day and Jude, unto the feast of the purification of our lady called Oandelmess," Jam. III. Parlt. 2, ch. 15. 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 Edw. IV , but whose story hath nothing in common with this of the ballad. As Wood was the most noted warrior of Scotland, it is proba- ble that, like the Theban Hercules, he hath engrossed the renown of other heroes. The king sits in Dumferling toune, Drinking the blude-reid wine : quhar will I get guid sailor, To sail this schip of mine ? Up and spak an eldern knicht, 5 Sat at the kings richt kne : Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailor, That sails upon the se. The king has written a braid letter,* And signd it wi' his hand; 10 * A braid letter, i. e. open, or patent; in opposition to close Rolls. ROBIN HOOD AND GUY OF GISBORNE. 77 And sent it to Sir Patrick Spence, Was walking on the sand. The first line that Sir Patrick red, A loud lauch lauched he : The next line that Sir Patrick red, 15 The teir blinded his ee. quha is this has don this deid, This ill deid don to me ; To send me out this time o'-the zeir, To sail upon the se ? 20 Mak hast, mak haste, my mirry men all, Our guid schip sails the morne. say na sae, my master deir, For I feir a deadlie storme. Late late yestreen I saw the new moone 25 Wi' the auld moone in hir arme ; And I feir, I feir, my deir master, That we will com to harme. our Scots nobles wer richt laith To weet their cork-heild schoone ; 30 Bot lang owe a' the play wer playd, Thair hats they swam aboone. lang, lang, may thair ladies sit Wi' thair fans into their hand, Or eir they se Sir Patrick Spence 35 Cum sailing to the land. lang, lang, may the ladies stand Wi' thair gold kems in their hair, Waiting for thair ain deir lords, For they'll se thame na mair. 40 Have owre, have owre to Aberdour,* It's fiftie fadom deip : And thair lies guid Sir Patrick Spence, Wi' the Scots lords at his feit.f VIII. gtobrn jj0ritr auto ®wa j(rf feisimt 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, and especially of such as were the best marksmen. These naturally fled to the woods for shelter ; and forming into troops, endeavoured by their num- bers to protect themselves from the dreadful penalties of their delinquency. The ancient punishment for killing the king's deer was loss of eyes and castration, a punishment far worse than death. This will easily account for the troops of banditti which formerly lurked in the royal forests, and, from their superior skill in archery and knowledge of all the recesses of those unfrequented soli- tudes, found it no difficult matter to resist or elude the civil power. Among all those, none was ever more fa- mous than the hero of this ballad, whose chief residence was in Shirewood forest, in Not- tinghamshire ; 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 spoiled and thefts as he got, upon whom four hun- dred (were they ever so strong) durst not give * A village lying upon the river Forth, the entrance to which is sometimes denominated De mortuo mari. f An ingenious friend thinks the Author of Hardyknute has borrowed several expressions and sentiments from thf foregoing, and other old Scottish songs in this collection. 78 ROBIN HOOD AND GUY OF GTSBORNE. the onset. He suffered no woman to be op- pressed, 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. 150. 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 profes- sion, may have given rise to such a report themselves : for we find it recorded in an epi- taph, which, if genuine, must have been in- scribed 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: *p|tar imtorrualJ Ms Iattl sttxn Iai? rofort orl fif fjunttnjjtun n*a arrir bn a? \iz ski jjtufr an pipl feaulij (m 3ftufctn pjcuft sizk utlafo? as fit an is mm til BnglaniJ nthir si z%zn. oitit 21 kal. iuefundms, 124-7. This Epitaph appears to me suspicious: however, a late Antiquary has given a pedi- gree of Robin Hood, which, if genuine, shows that he had real pretensions to the Earldom of Huntington, and that his true name was Robert Fitz-ooth.f Yet the most ancient poems on Robin Hood make no mention of this Earldom. He is expressly asserted to have been a yeomanj in a very old legend in verse preserved in the archives of the public library at Cambridge, g in eight fyttes or parts, printed in black letter, quarto, thus inscribed : " (£ Here begynneth a lytell geste of Robyn bode and his meyne, and of the proude sher- yfe of Notyngham." The first lines are, * See Thoresby's Ducat. Leod. p. 570, Biog. Brit. vi. 3933. j Stukoley, in his Palseographia Britannica, No. IT. 1746. J: See also the following ballad, v. 147. \ Num. D. 5, 2. " Lythe and lysten, gentylmen, That be of free-bore blode : I shall you tell of a good yeman, His name was Robyn hode. " Robyn Avas a proude out-lawe, 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. Enprinted at London in Fletestrete at the sygne of the sone by Wynkin de Worde." In Mr. Garrick's Collection* is a different edition of the same poem " <& Im- printed at London upon the thre Crane wharfe by Wyllyam Copland," containing at the end a little dramatic piece on the subject of Robin Hood and the Friar, not found in the former copy, called, "A newe playe for to be played in Maye games very plesaunte and full of pastyme. C (.'.)3j)-" 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 K. Edward III. In the Visions of Pierce Plowman, written in that reign, a monk says, I can rimes of Roben Hod and Randal of Chester, But of our Lorde and our Lady, I lerne nothygn at all. Fol. 26, Ed. 1550. See also in Bp. Latimer's Sermonsf a very curious and characteristical story, which shows what respect was shown to the mem- ory of our archer in the time of that prelate. 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 Ar- mour and Weapons of the Irish," p. 129, an- nexed to his " Historical Essay on the Dress of the Ancient and Modern Irish." Dublin, 1788, 4to. Some liberties were, by the Editor, taken * Old Plays, 4to. K. vol. x. f Ser. Cth before K. Ed. Apr. 12, Lat. p. 122. 1. '75, Gilpin's Life of ROBIN HOOD AND GUY OF GISBORNE. 79 with this ballad; which, in this Edition, hath been brought nearer to the folio MS. When - shaws beene sheene, and shradds full fayre, And leaves both large and longe, Itt is merrye walking in the fayre forrest To heare the small birdes songe. The woodweele sang, and wold not cease, 5 Sitting upon the spraye, Soe lowde, he awakened Robin Hood, In the greenwood where he lay. Now by my faye, sayd jolly e Robin, A sweaven I had this night ; I dreamt me of two wighty yemen, That fast with me can fi>ht. 10 Methought they did mee beate and binde, And toke my bow mee froe ; If I be Robin alive in this lande 15 He be wroken on them to we. Sweavens are swift, master, quoth John As the wind that blowes ore a hill ; For if itt be never so loude this night, To-morrow it may be still. 20 Buske yee, bowne yee, my merry men all, And John shall goe with mee, For He goe seeke yon wight yoemen, In greenwood where the bee. Then the cast on their gownes of grene, 25 And tooke theyr bowes each one ; And they away to the greene forrest A shooting forth are gone. Untill the}'' come to the merry greenwood, Where they had gladdest bee, 30 There were the ware of a wight yeoman, His body leaned to a tree. A sword and a dagger he wore by his side, Of manye a man the bane ; And he was clad in his capull hyde 35 Topp and tayll and mayne. Stand you still, master, quoth Little John, Under this tree so grene ; And I will go to yond wight yeoman To know what he doth meane. 40 Yer. 1, For Shaws the MS. has shales : and shy-adds should perhaps he swards: i. e. the surface of the pround: viz. " when the fields were in their beauty :" or perhaps shades. 11 Ah ! John, by me thou settest noe store, And that I farley finde; How offt send I my men beffore, And tarry my selfe behinde? It is no cunning a knave to ken, 45 And a man but heare him speake ; And itt were not for bursting of my bowe, John, I thy head wold breake. As often wordes they breeden bale, So they parted Robin and John ; y0 And John is gone to Barnesdale: The gates* he knoweth eche one. But when he came to Barnesdale, Great heaviness there hee hadd, For he found tow of his owne fellowes 55 Were slaine both in a slade. And Scarlette he was flyinge a-foote Fast over stocke and stone, For the sheriffe with seven score men Fast after him is gone. GO One shoote now I will shoote, quoth John, With Christ his might and mayne ; He make yond fellow that flyes soe fast, To stopp he shall be fayne. Then John bent up his long bende-bow, 65 And fetteled him to shoote : The bow was made of a tender bough e, And fell downe to his foote. Woe worth, woe worth thee, wicked wood, That ere thou grew on a tree ; 70 For now this day thou art my bale, My boote when thou shold bee. His shoote it was but loosely shott, Yet flewe not the arrowe in vaine ; For itt mett one of the sherriffes men, Good William a Trent was slaine. 75 It had bene better of William a Trent To have bene abed with sorrowe, Than to be that day in the green wood slade To meet with Little John's arrowe. 80 But as it is said, when men be mett Fyve can doe more than three, The sheriffe hath taken Little John, And bound him fast to a tree. * i. e. ways, passes, paths, ridings. Gate is a common word in the North for way. RO ROBIN HOOD AND GUY OF GISBORXE. Thou shalt be drawen by dale and downe, 85 And hanged hyc on a hill. But thou mayst fayle of thy purpose, quoth John, If itt be Christ his Trill. Let us leave talking of Litle John, And thinke of Robin Hood, Hotv he is gone to the wight yeoman, Where under the leaves he stood. 90 Good morrowe, good fellowe, said Robin so fay re, " Good morrowe, good fellowe," quoth he : Methinkes by this bowe thou beares in thy hande 95 A good archere thou sholdst bee. I am wilfull of my waye, quo' the yeman, And of my morning tyde. He lead thee through the wood, sayd Robin ; Good fellow, He be thy guide. 100 1 seeke an outlawe, the straunger sayd, Men call him Robin Hood ; Rather lid meet with that proud outlawe Than forty pound soe good. Now come with me thou wighty yeman, 105 And Robin thou soone shalt see : But first let us some pastime find Under the greenwood tree. First let us some masterye make Among the woods so even, 110 Wee may chance to meet with Robin Hood Here att some unsett steven. They cutt them downe two summer shroggs, That grew both under a breere, And sett them threescore rood in twaine 115 To shoot the prickes y-fere. Leade on, good fellowe, quoth Robin Hood, Leade on, I doe bidd thee. Xay by my faith, good fellowe, hee sayd, My leader thou shalt bee. 120 The first time Robin shot at the pricke, He mist but an inch it froe : The ye» man he was an archer good, But he cold never shoote soe. The second shoote had the wightye yeman, He shote within the garlande: 126 But Robin he shott far better than hee, For he clave the good pricke wande. A blessing upon thy heart, he sayd ; Good fellowe, thy shooting is goode ; 130 For an thy hart be as good as thy hand, Thou wert better than Robin Iloode. Now tell me thy name, good fellowe, sayd he, Under the leaves of lyne. Nay by my faith, quoth bolde Robin, 135 Till thou have told me thine. I dwell by dale and downe, quoth hee, And Robin to take Ime sworne ; And when I am called by my right name I am Guye of good Gisborne. 140 My dwelling is in this wood, sayes Robin, By thee I set right nought : I am Robin Hood of Barnesdale, Whom thou so' long hast sought. He that had neither beene kithe nor kin. 145 Might have seene a full fayre sight, To see how together these yeomen went With blades both browne* and bright. To see how these yeomen together they fought Two howres of a summers day : 150 Yett neither Robin Hood nor Sir Guy Them fettled to flye away. Robin was reachles on a roote, And stumbled at that tyde ; And Guy was quicke and nimble with-all, And hitt him ore the left side. 156 Ah, deare lady, sayd Robin Hood, ' thou That art both mother and may/ I think it was never mans destinye To dye before his day. 160 * The common epithet for a sword or other offensive weapon, iu the old metrical romances, is broiun. As " bro^ n brand," or •' brown sword, brown bill," &c. ; and sometime? even "bright brown sword." Chaucer applies the wcrd rustie in the same sense; thus he describes the reve: — " And by his side he bare a rusty blade." Prol. rer. 620. And even thus the god Mars : — " And in his hand he had a rousty sword." Test of Cressid. 188. Spenser has sometimes used the same epithet. See War- ton's Observ. vol. ii. p. 62. It should seem, from this par- ticularity, 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. ROBIN HOOD AND GUY OF GISBORNE. ?1 Robin thought on our ladye deere, And soone leapt up againe, And strait he came with a ' backward' stroke, And he Sir Guy hath slayne. He took Sir Guy's head by the hayre, 1G5 And sticked itt on his bowes end : Though hast beene a traytor all thy liffe, Which thing must have an ende. Robin pulled forth an Irish kniffe, And nicked Sir Guy in the face, 170 That he was never on woman born, Cold tell whose head it was. Saies, Lye there, lye there, now Sir Guye, And with me be not wrothe ; If thou have had the worse strokes at my hand, 175 Thou shalt have the better clothe. Robin did off his gowne of greene, And on Sir Guy did it throwe, And hee put on that capull hyde, That cladd him topp to toe. 180 The bowe, the arrowes, and litle home, Now with me I will beare ; For I will away to Barnesdale, To see how my men doe fare. Robin Hood sett Guyes home to his mouth, And a loud blast in it did blow. 186 That beheard the sheriffe of Nottingham, As he leaned under a lowe. Hearken, hearken, sayd the sheriffe, I heare nowe tydings good, 190 For yonder I heare Sir Guye's home blowe, And he hath slaine Robin Hoode. Yonder I heare Sir Guye's home blowe, Itt blowes soe well in tyde, And yonder comes that wightye yeoman, 195 Cladd in his capull hyde. Come hyther, come hyther, thou good Sir Guy, Aske what thou wilt of mee. 0, I will none of thy gold, sayd Robin, Nor I will none of thy fee : 200 But now I've slaine the master, he saves, Let me go strike the knave ; Ver. 163, awkwarde, MS. This is all the rewarde I aske ; Nor noe other will I have. Thou art a madman, said the sheriffe, 205 Thou sholdest have had a knight's fee : But seeing thy asking hath beene soe bad, Well granted it shale be. When Litle John heard his master speake, Well knewe he it was his steven : 210 Now shall I be looset, quoth Litle John, With Christ his might in heaven. Fast Robin hee hyed him to Little John, He thought to loose him belive ; The sheriffe and all. his company e 215 Fast after him did drive. Stand abacke, stand abacke, sayd Robin ; Why draw you mee soe neere ? Itt was never the use in our countrye, One's shrift another shold heere. 220 But Robin pulled forth an Irysh kniffe, And loosed John hand and foote, And gave him Sir Guyes bow into his hand And bad it be his boote. Then John he took Guye's bow in his hand, His boltes and arrowes eche one : 226 When the sheriffe saw Little John bend his bow, He fettled him to be gone. Towards his house in Nottingham towne He fled full fast away ; 230 And soe did all his companye : Not one behind wold stay. But he cold neither runne soe fast, Nor away soe fast cold ryde, Bat Litle John with an arrowe so broad 235 He shott him into the ' backe'-syde. *** The title of Sir was not formerly pe- culiar 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 styled Domini, " Sirs," to distinguish them from Undergrad- uates, who have no prefix, and from Masters of Arts, who are styled Magistri " Masters/' 82 AN ELEGY ON HENRY FOURTH EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND. IX. gn (blcgii an fknrg $mxt\ (ml at prtbumberlanl). The subject of this poem which was writ- ten 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 subsi- dy for carrying on the war in Bretague. 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 melan- choly event happened at the earl's seat at Cocklodge, near Tnirske, 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 ver. 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 re- tainers abridged and limited the number of their attendants. John Skelton, who commonly styled him- self 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 i fifth Earl of Northumberland, and is prefa- ced, ktc, in the following manner: Poeta Skelton Laureatus libellum suum metrice alloquitur. Ad dominum properato meum mea pagina Percy, Qui Northumbrorum jura paterna gerit, Ad nutum Celebris tu prona repone leonis, Quseque suo patri tristia-justa cano. Ast ubi perlegit, dubiani sub mente volutet Fortunam, cuncta qu.se male fida rotat. Qui leo sit felix, et Nestoris occupet annos ; Ad libitum cujus ipse paratus ero. Skelton Laureat upon the dolourous dethe and much lamentable chaunce of the MOOST honorable Erle of Northumber- LANDE. I watle, I wepe, I sobbe, I sigh ful sore The dedely fate, the dolefulle destenny Of him that is gone, alas ! withoute restore, Of the blode* royall descendinge nobelly ; Whos lordshepe doubtles was slayne la- mentably 5 Thorow tresun ageyn hym compassyd and wrought ; Trew to his prince, in word, in dede, and thought. Of hevenly poems, Clyo calde by name In the college of musis goddess hystoriall, Adres the to me, whiche am both halt and lame 10 In elect uteraunce to make memory all : To the for soccour, to the for helpe I call Myne homely rudnes and drighnes to expelle With the freshe waters of Elyconys welle. * The mother of Henry, first Earl of Northumberland, was Mary daughter to Henry Earl of Lancaster, whose father Edmond was second son of King Henry III. — The mother and wife of the second Earl of Northumberland were both lineal descendants of King Edward III. — The Percys also were lineally descended from the Emperor Charlemagne and the ancient Kings of France, by his ancestor Josceline du Lovain (son of Godfrey Duke of Brabant), wro took the name of Percy on marrying the heiress of tb it house in the reign of Hen. II., Vid. Camden Britan. Edraondson, &c. AN ELEGY ON HENRY FOURTH EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND. Of noble actes auneyently enrolde, 15 Of famous princis and lordes of astate, By thy report ar wonte to extold, Regestringe trewly every formare date : Of thy bountie after the usuall rate, Kyndle in me suche plenty of thy nobles, Thes sorrowfulle dities that I may shew ex- pres. 20 In sesons past who hathe harde or sene Of formar writinge by any presidente That vilane hastarddis in ther furious tene, Fulfyld with malice of froward entente, Cunfeterdtogeder of commoun concente, 25 Falsly to slo ther moste singular goode lorde ? It may be registerde of shamefull recorde. So noble a man, so valiaunt lorde and knight, Fulfilled with honor, as all the worlde dothe ken ; 30 At his commaundement, whiche had both day and night Knyghtisand 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 And were not they to blame, I say also, 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 not till the rekening were dis- cust. 40 What shuld I flatter ? what shulde I glose or paynt ? Fy, fy for shame, their harts wer to faint. In Englande and Fraunce, which gretly was redouted ; Of whom both Flaunders and Scotland stode in drede ; 44 To who me grete astates obeyde and lowttede : A mayny of rude villayns made him for to blede : Unkindly they slew him, that holp them oft at nede He was their bulwark, their paves, and their wall, Yet shamfully they slew hym ; that shame mot them befal. I say, ye commoners, why wer ye so stark mad ? 50 What frantyk frensy fyll in youre brnyne ? Where was your wit and reson, ye shuld have had ? What willfull foly made yow to ryse agayne Your natural! lord ? alas ! I can not fayne. Ye armed you with will, and left your wit behynd ; 55 Well may you be called comones most un- kynd. He was your chyfteyne, your shelde, your chef defence, Redy to assyst you in every tyme of nede; Your worship depended of his excellence : Alas ! ye mad men, to far ye did excede : 60 Your hap was unhappy, to ill was your spede: Whatmovyd you agayn hym to war or to fight? What aylde you to sle your lord agyn all right? The grounde of his quarel was for his sove- reyn lord, 64 The welle concernyng of all the hole lande, 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 yourawne hande : But had his nobill men done wel that day, Ye had not been hable to have saide him nay. But ther was fals packinge, or els I am be- gylde ; 71 How-be-it the matter was evident and playne, For yf they had occupied ther spere and ther shelde, This noble man doutles had not be slayne. Bot men say they wer lynked with a dou- ble chayn, 75 And held with the commouns under a cloke, Whiche kindeled the wyld fyre that made all this smoke. The commouns renyed ther taxes to pay Of them demaunded and asked by the kinge ; With one voice importune, they playnly said nay: 80 They buskt them on a bushment themself in baile to bringe : Agayne the king's plesure to wrastle or to wringe, 84 AN ELEGY ON HENRY FOURTH EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND. Bluntly as bestia withe boste and with cry They saide, they forsede not, nor carede not to dy. The noblenes of the northe this valiant lorde and knyght, 85 As man that was innocent of trechery or trayne, Prosed 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. Barons, knights, squyers, one and alle, Togeder with servaunts of his famuly, Turnd 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 was ille bestowde and spent. He was envyronde aboute on every syde "Withe his enemys, that were stark mad and wode ; 100 Yet whils he stode he gave woundes wyde Alas for routhe ! what thouche his mynde were goode, His corage manly, yet ther he shed his blood e ! All left alone, alas ! he fawte in vayne ! For cruelly amonge them ther he was slayne. Alas for pite ! that Percy thus was spylt, 106 The famous erle of Northumberlande : Of knightly prowes the sworde pomel and hylt, The mighty lyoun* doutted by se and lande! dolorous chaunce of fortuns fruward hande! 110 What man remembring how shamfully he was slayne, From bitter weepinge himself kan restrayne ! O cruell Mars, thou dedly god of war! O doloTOus Teusday, dedicate to thy name, * Alluding to hia crest and supporters. Doutted is con- tracted for redoubted. 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 tho same ! Moste noble erle ! O fowle mysuryd grounde Whereon he gat his fynal dedely wounde ! O Atropos, of the fatall systers thre, 120 Goddes mooste cruell unto the lyf of man, All merciles, in the ys no pite ! O homycide, whiche sleest all that thou kan, So forcibly upon this erle thow ran, That with thy sworde enharpid of mortall drede, 125 Thou kit asonder his perfight vitall threde I My wordis unpullysht be nakide and playne, Of aureat poems they want ellumynynge ; Bot by them to knoulege ye may attayne Of this lordis dethe and of his murdrynge. Which whils he lyvyd had fuyson of every thing, 131 Of knights, of squyers, chef lord of toure and toune, Tyl fykkill fortune began on hym to frowne. Paregall to dukis, with kings he myght com- pare, Surmountinge in honor all erls he did ex- cede, 135 To all cuntreis aboute hym reporte me I dare. Lyke to Eneas benygne in worde and dede, Valiaunt as Hector in every marciall nede, Provydent, discrete, circumspect, and wyse, Tyll the chaunce ran agayne him of fortune's duble dyse. 140 What nedethe me for to extoll his fame With my rude pen enkankerd all with rust ? Whos noble actis shew worsheply his name, Transcendyngfar myne homely muse, that must Yet sumwhat wright supprisid withhartly lust, 145 Truly reportinge his right noble astate, Immortally whiche is immaculate. His noble blode never disteynyd was, Trew to his prince for to defende his right, Doublenes hatinge, fills maters to compas, Treytory and treson he bannesht out of syght, 151 With trowth to medle was all his hole delyght, AN ELEGY ON HENRY FOURTH EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND. 85 As all his kuntrey kan tcstefy the same : To slo such a lord, alas, it was grete shame. If the hole quere of the musis nyne 155 In me all onely wer sett and comprisyde, Eubrethed with the blast of influence dyvyne, As perfightly as could be thought or devy- syd; To me also allthouche it were promysyde Of laureat Phebus holy the eloquence, 160 All were too litill for his magnyficence. yonge lyon, bot tender yet of age, Grow and encrese, remembre thyn astate, God the assyst unto thyn herytage, 164 And geve the grace to be more fortunate, Agayne rebellyouns arme to make debate. And, as the lyoune, whiche is of bestis kinge, Unto thy subjectis be kurteis and benyngne. 1 pray God sende the prosperous lyf and long, Stabille thy mynde constant to be and fast, Right to mayntein, and to resist all wronge: All flattringe faytors abhor and from the cast, 172 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 Wythe hevy chere, with dolorous hart and mynd, Eche man may sorow in his inward thought, Thys lords death, whose pere is hard to fynd ADgyf Englond and Fraunce were thorow saught. Al kings, all princes, all dukes, well they ought 180 Bothe temporall and spirituall for to com- playne This noble man, that crewelly was slayne. More specially barons, and those knyghtes bold, And all other gentilmen with hym enter- teynd In fee, as menyall men of his housold, 185 "Whom he as lord worsheply manteynd: To sorowfull weping they ought to be con- streynd, As oft as thci call to thor remembraunce, Of ther good lord the fate and dedely chaunce. perlese prince of hevyn emperyalle, 190 That with one worde formed al thing of noughte ; Hevyn, hell, and erth obey unto thi kail ; Which to thy resemblance wondersly hast wrought All mankynd, whom thou full dere hast boght, With thy blode precious our finaunce thou dyd pay, ' 195 And us redemed, from the fendys pray : To the pray we, as prince incomperable, As thou art of mercy and pite the well, Thou bringe unto thy joy 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. O queene of mercy, O lady full of grace, Maiden moste pure, and goddis moder dere, To sorowfull harts chef comfort and solace, 206 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 salva- cion. 210 In joy tryumphant the hevenly yerarchy, With all the hole sorte of that glorious place, His soule mot recyve into ther company 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. flf 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'a i Graunde Amour. y 6 the tower of doctrine. X. t %aiatx at §attxh\t The reader has here a specimen of the de- scriptive powers of Stephen Hawes, a cele- brated poet in the reign of Henry VII., though now little known. It is extracted from an allegorical poem of his (written in 1505), entitled, "The Hist, of Graunde Ani- oure & La Belle Pucel, called the Palace 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, entitled, " 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 men- tioned. " How fame departed from Graunde Amour and left him with Governaunce and Grace, and howe 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. 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 Which against Phebus shone soe marveyl- oiisly. That for the very perfect bryghtnes What of the tower, and of the cleare sunne I could nothyng behold the goodlines 10 Ofthatpalaice, whereas Doctrine did wonne: Tyll at the last, with mysty wyndes donne, The radiant brightnes of golden Phebus Auster gan cover with clowde tenebrus. Then to the tower I drewe nere and nere, 15 And often mused of the great hyghnes Of the craggy rocke which quadrant did ap- peare : Rut the fayre tower, (so much of ryches Was all about,) sexangled doubtles ; Gargeyld with grayhoundes, and with many lyons, 20 Made of fyne golde ; with divers sundry dra- gons.* The little turrets with ymages of golde About was set, whiche with the wynd aye moved With propre vices, that I did well beholde About the tower, in sundry wyse they hoved 25 With goodly pypes, in their mouthes ituned, That with the wynd they piped a daunce Iclipped Amour de la hault plesaunce. The toure was great of marveylous wydnes, To whyche ther was no way to passe but one, 30 Into the toure for to have an intres : A grece there was ychesyld all of stone Out of the rocke, on whyche men dyd gone Up to the toure, and in lykewyse dyd I With bothe the Grayhoundes in my com- pany :f 35 Tyll that I came unto a ryall gate, Where I sawe stondynge the goodly portres, Whyche axed me, from whence I came a-late ; To whome I gan in every thynge expresse All myne adventure, chaunce, and busy- nesse, 40 And eke my name ; I told her every dell : Whan she herde this she lyked me right well. Her name, she sayd, was called Countenaunce ; Into the ' base' courte she dyd me then lede, 44 Where was a fountayne depured of plesance, 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 four partes dyd spoute. V. 25, towers, P. C. V. 44, besy courte, P. C. V. 49, par- tyes, P. C. * Greyhounds, Lions, Dragons, were at that time the royal supporters, f This alludes to a former part of the Poem. THE CHILD OF ELLE. 87 Of wbyche there flowed foure ryvers ryght clere, 50 Sweter than Nylus* or Ganges was ther odoure : Tygrys or Eufrates unto them no pere : I dyd than taste the aromatyke lycoure, Ffagraunt of fume, and swete as any floure; And in my mouth it had a marveylous scent Of divers spyces, I knewe not what it ment. And after thys further forth me brought Dame Countenaunce into a goodly Hall, Of jasper stones it was wonderly wrought: Thy wyndowes cleare depured all of crys- tall, 60 And in the roufe on hye over all Of golde was made a ryght crafty v}^ne ; Instede of grapes the rubies there did shyne. The flore was paved with berall clarified, With pillers made of stones precious, 65 Like a place of pleasure so gaycly 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, TO That treated well of a ful noble story, Of the doubty waye to the Tower Peril- lous ;* Howe a noble knyght should wynne the vic- tory Of many a serpente foule and odious. XI. t «tillr 0f «Ih, is given from a fragment in the Edi- tor's folio MS. : which though extremely de- fective and mutilated, appeared to have so much merit, that it excited a strong desire to attempt the 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 con- siders 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. See Gloss. On yonder hill a castle standes With walles and towres bedight, And yonder lives the Child of Elle, A younge and comely knighte. The Child of Elle to his garden went, 5 And stood at his garden pale, Whan, lo ! he beheld fair Emmelines page Come trippinge downe the dale. The Child of Elle he hyed him thence, Y-wis he stoode not stille, 10 12 t Nysus, P. C. And soone he mette fair Emmelines page Come climbing up the hille. Nowe Christe thee save, thou little foot-page, Now Christe thee save and see ! Oh tell me how does thy ladye gaye, 15 And what may thy tydinges bee ? My lady she is all woe-begone, And the teares they falle from her eyne ; And aye she laments the deadly e feude Betweene her house and thine. 20 And here shee sends thee a silken scarfe Bedewde with many a teare, And biddes thee sometimes thinke on her, Who loved thee so deare. And here she sends thee a ring of golde 25 The last boone thou mayst have, And biddes thee weare it for her sake, When she is layde in grave. For, ah ! her gentle heart is broke, 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. : The story of the poem. 88 THE CHILD OF ELLE. Her father hath brought her a carlish knight, Sir John of the north countraye, And within three dayes shee must him wedde, Or he vowes he will her slaye. 3G No we hye thee backe, thou little foot-page, And greet thy ladye from mee, And tell her that I her owne true love Will dye, or sette her free. 40 Nowe hye thee backe, thou little foot-page, And let thy fair ladye know This knight will I bee at her bowre winddwe, Betide me weale or woe. The boye he tripped, the boye he ranne, 45 He neither stint ne stayd Untill he came to fair Emmelines bowre Whan kneeling downe he sayd, ladye, I've been with thy own true love, And he greets thee well by mee ; 50 This night will he be at thy bowre-winddwe, And dye or sette thee free. Nowe daye was gone and night was come, And all were fast asleepe, All save the ladye Emmeline. 55 Who sate in her bowre to weepe : And soone she heard her true loves voice Lowe whispering at the walle, Awake, awake, my deare ladye, Tis I thy true love call. 60 Awake, awake, my ladye deare, Come, mount this faire palfraye; This ladder of ropes will lette thee downe, He carrye thee hence awaye. Nowe nay, nowe nay, thou gentle knight, 65 Nowe nay, this may not bee ; For aye shold I tint my maiden fame, If alone I should wend with thee. ladye, thou with a knighte so true Mayst safely wend alone, 70 To my ladye mother I will thee bringe, Where marriage shall make us one. " My father he is a baron bolde, Of lynage proude and hye ; And what would he saye if his daughter 75 Awaye with a knight should fly! Ah ! well I wot, he never would rest, Nor his meate should doe him no goode, Until he had slayne thee, Child of Elle. And seene thy deare hearts bloode." 8C ladye wert thou in thy saddle sette, And a little space him fro, 1 would not care for thy cruel father, Nor the worst that he could doe. ladye, wert thou in thy saddle sette, 85 And once without this walle, 1 would not care for thy cruel father, Nor the worst that might befalle. Faire Emmeline sighed, fair Emmeline wept, And aye her heart was woe : 90 At length he seized her lilly-white hand, And downe the ladder he drewe : And thrice he clasped her to his breste, And kist her tenderlle : The teares that fell from her fair eyes 95 Ranne like the fountayne free. Hee mounted himselfe on his steede so talle, And her on a fair palfraye, And slung his bugle about his necke, And roundlye they rode awaye. 100 All this beheard her owne damselle, In her bed whereas shee ley, Quoth shee, My lord shall knowe of this, Soe I shall have golde and fee. Awake, awake, thou baron bolde ! 105 Awake, my noble dame ! Your daughter is fledde with the Child of Elle To doe the deede of shame. The baron he woke, the baron he rose, And called his merrye men all : 110 " And come thou forth, Sir John the knighte, Thy ladye is carried to thrall." Faire Emmeline scant had ridden a mile, A mile forth of the towne, When she was aware of her fathers men 115 Come galloping over the downe : And formost came the carlish knight, Sir John of the north countraye : " Nowe stop, nowe stop, thou false traitdure, Nor carry that ladye awaye. 120 THE CHILD OF ELLE. 80 For she is come of hye lineage, And was of a ladye borne, And ill it beseems thee a false churl's sonue To carrye her hence to scorne." Nowe loud thou lyest, Sir John the knight, Nowe thou doest lye of mee ; 126 A knight mee gott, and a ladye me bore, Soe never did none by thee. But light nowe downe, my ladye faire, Light downe, and hold my steed, 130 While I and this discourteous knighte Doe trye this arduous deede. But light nowe downe, my deare ladye, Light downe, and hold my horse ; "While I and this discourteous knight Doe trye our valour's force. 135 Fair Emmeline sighed, fair Emmeline wept, And aye her heart was woe, "While twixt her love and the carlish knight Past many a baleful blowe. 140 The Child of Elle hee fought soe well, As his weapon he waved amaine, That soone he had slaine the carlish knight, And layd him upon the plaine. 145 And nowe the baron and all his men Full fast approached nye : Ah ! what may ladye Emmeline doe Twere nowe no boote to flye. Her lover he put his home to his mouth, And blew both loud and shrill, 150 And soone he saw his owne merry men Come ryding over the hill. " Nowe hold thy hand, thou bold baron, I pray thee hold thy hand, Nor ruthless rend two gentle hearts Fast knit in true love's band. 155 Thy daughter I have dearly loved Full long and many a day ; But with such love as holy kirke Hath freelye said wee may. give consent, shee may be mine, And bless a faithfull paire : My lands and livings are not small, My house and lineage faire : 160 165 My mother she was an earl's daughter, And a noble knyght my sire The baron he frowned and turn'd away With mickle dole and ire. Fair Emmeline sighed, faire Emmeline wept, And did all tremblinge stand : 170 At lengthe she sprang upon her knee, And held his lifted hand. Pardon, my lorde and father deare, This faire yong knyght and mee : Trust me, but for the carlish kn} T ght, I never had fled from thee. 175 Oft have you called your Emmeline Your darling and your joye ; O let not then your harsh resolves Your Emmeline destroye. 180 The baron he stroakt his dark-brown cheeke, And turned his heade asyde To whipe awaye the starting teare He proudly strave to hyde. In deepe revolving thought he stoode, 185 And mused a little space : Then raised faire Emmeline from thegrounde, With many a fond embrace. Here take her, Child of Elle, he sayd, And gave her lillye white hand ; 190 Here take my deare and only child, And with her half my land : Thy father once mine honour wrongde In dayes of youthful pride ; Do thou the injurye repayre 195 In fondnesse for thy bride. And as thou love her, and hold her deare, Heaven prosper thee and thine : And nowe my blessing wend wi' thee, My lovelye Emmeline. 200 fjf From the word kirke in ver. 129, 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. 90 EDOM 0' GORDON. XII. A SCOTTISH BALLAD, was printed at Glasgow, by Robert and Andrew Foulis, mdeclv. 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 au- thor was English or Scotch, the difference originally was not great. The English Bal- lads 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 fre- quently 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 hap- pily nothing remains but the ruins of the cas- tles, 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 comity: the two villages of East and West Gordon lie about ten miles from the castle of the Rodes.* The fact, however, on which the ballad is founded, happened in the North of Scotland, (see below), yet it is but too faithful a specimen of the violences practised in the feudal timos in every part of this Island, and indeed all over Europe. * Thi« Ballad is well known in that neighbourhood, vrhoro it is entitled Adam o'Gordon. Tt may be observed, that the famous freebooter, whom Edward T. fought with hand to hand, near Farnham, was named Adam Gordon. 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 blame-worthy 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 versa..— The foregoing observa- tion, which I owed to Sir David Dalrymple, will appear the more perfectly well founded, if, as I have since been informed (from Craw- ford'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 diffe- rent 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 Britton's-borrow," and also " Diactors" or "Draitours-borrow," (for it is very obscurely written,) and " Capt. Adam Carre" is called the "Lord of Wester- ton-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. • It fell about the Martinmas, Quhen the wind blew shril and cauld, Said Edom o' Gordon to his men, We maun draw till a hauld. An quhat a hauld sail we draw till, 5 My mirry men and me ? We wul gae to the house o' the Rodes, To see that fair ladle. EDOM 0' GORDON. 01 The lady stude on hir castle wa' Beheld baith dale and down: 10 There she was ware of a host of men Cum ryding towards the toun. see ze nat, my mirry men a' ' see ze nat quhat I see? Methinks I see a host of men : 1 marveil quha they be. 15 She weend it had been hir luvely lord, As he cam ryding hame ; It was the traitor Edom o' Gordon, Quha reckt nae sin nor shame. 20 She had nae sooner buskit hirsel, And putten on hir goun, But Edom o' Gordon and his men Were round about the toun. They had nae sooner supper sett, 25 Nae sooner said the grace, But Edom o' Gorden and his men Were light about the place. The lady ran up to hir towir head, Sa fast as she could hie, 30 To see if by hir faire speeches She could wi' him agree. But quhan he see this lady saif, And hir yates all locked fast, He fell into a rage of wrath, 35 And his look was all aghast. Cum doun to me, ze lady gay, Gum doun, cum doun to me : This night sail ye lig within mine armes, To-morrow my bride sail be. 40 I winnae cum doun, ze fals Gordon, I winnae cum doun to thee ; I winnae forsake my ain dear lord, That is sae far frae me. Give owre zour house, ze lady fair, 45 Give oure zour house to me, Or I sail brenn yoursel therein, Bot and zour babies three. I winnae give owre, ze false Gordon, To nae sik traitor as zee : 50 And if ze brenn my ain dear babes, My lord shall make ze drie. But reach my pistoll, Glaud, my man,* And charge ze weil my gun :* For, but an I pierce that bluidy butcher, 55 My babes we been undone. She stude upon hir castle wa', And let twa bullets flee :* She mist that bluidy butchers hart, And only raz'd his knee. GO Set fire to the house, quo' fals Gordon, All wood wi' dule and ire : Fals lady, ze sail rue this deid, As ze bren in the fire. Wae worth, wae worth ze, Jock my man, 65 I paid ze weil zour fee ; Quhy pu' ze out the ground-wa' stane, Lets in the reek to me? And ein wae worth ze, Jock my man, I paid ze well zour hire ; 70 Quhy pu' ze out the ground-wa' stane, To me lets in the fire ? Ze paid me weil my hire, lady ; Ze paid me weil my fee : But now I'm Edom o'Gordons man, 75 Maun either doe or die. then bespaik hir little son, Sate on the nurses knee ; Sayes, Mither deare, gi' owre this house, For the reek it smithers me. 80 1 wad gie a' my gowd, my childe, Sae wald I a' my fee, For ane blast o' the western wind, To blaw the reek frae thee. O then bespaik hir dochter dear, 85 She was bath jimp and sma: O row me in a pair of sheits, And tow me owre the wa. They rowd hir in a pair o' sheits, And towd hir owre the wa : 9C But on the point of Gordon's spear She gat a deadly fa. O bonnie bonnie was hir mouth, And cherry were hir cheiks, * These three lines are restored from Fculis's edition, and the fol. MS., which last reads " the bullets," in v. 58. 92 EDOM 0' GORDON. And clear clear was hir zellow hair, Whereon the reid bluid dreips. 95 Then wi* his spear he turnd hir owre, gin hir face was wan ! He sayd, Ze are the first that eir 1 wisht alive again. 100 He turnd hir owre and owre againe, gin hir skin was whyte ! I might ha spared that bonnie face, To hae been sum mans delyte. Busk and bouu, my merry men a', 105 For ill dooms I doe guess : I cannae luik in that bonnie face, As it lyes on the grass. Thame, luiks to freits, my master deir, Then freits wil follow thame : Let it neir be said brave Edom o' Gordon "Was daunted by a dame. But quhen the lady see the fire Cum flaming owre hir head, She wept and kist her children twain, 115 Sayd, Bairns, we been but dead. The Gordon then his bougill blew, And said, ' Awa', ' awa' ; This house o' the Rhodes is a' in flame, I hauld it time to ga\ 120 then bespyed hir ain dear lord, As hee cam owr the lee ; He sied his castle all in blaze So far as he could see. Then sair, sair, his mind misgave, 125 And all his hart was wae ; Put, on, put on, my wighty men, So fast as ze can gae. Put on, put on, my wighty men, So fast as ze can drie ; 130 V. 98, 102, O Gin, &c, a Scottish idiom to express, great admiration. V. 109, 110, Thame, &c, i. e. Them that look after omens of ill luck, ill luck will follow. I For he that is hindmost of the thrang Sail neir get guid o' me. Than sum they rade, and some they rin, Fou fast out-owr the bent ; But eir the foremost could get up, 135 Baith lady and babes were brent. He wrang his hands, he rent his hair, And wept in teenefu' muid : O traitors, for this cruel deid Ze sail weep teirs o' bluid. 140 And after the Gordon he is gane, Sa fast as he might drie ; And soon i' the Gordon's foul hartis bluid He's wroken his dear ladie. t-i-t Since the foregoing ballad was first printed, the subject of it has been found re- corded in Abp. Spotswood's History of the Church of Scotland, p. 259 ; who informs us, that " Anno 1571. In the north parts of Scot- land, Adam Gordon (who was deputy for his brother the Earl of Huntley) did keep a great stir ; and, under colour of the queen's authority, committed divers oppressions, es- pecially upon the Forbes Having killed Arthur Forbes, brother to the Lord Forbes. . . . Not long after he sent to sum- mon the house of Tavoy, pertaining to Alex- ander Forbes. The lady refusing to yield without direction from her husband, he put fire unto it, and burnt her therein, with children and servants, being twenty-seven persons in all. " 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. II. (Newcastle, May 9,) in the Gentleman's Magazine for May, 1775, p. 219. THE END OF THE FIRST BOOK. BALLADS THAT ILLUSTRATE SHAKSPEARE. 93 SERIES THE FIRST. BOOK II. §aIMrs tljat Illustrate jsSjja&sjtar*, Our great dramatic poet having occasion- ally quoted many ancient ballads, and even taken the plot of one, if not more, of his plays from among them, it was judged pro- per to preserve as many of these as could be recovered, and, that they might be the more easily found, to exhibit them in one collect- ive view. ' This second book is therefore set apart for the reception of such ballads as are quoted by Skakspeare, or contribute in any degree to illustrate his writings : this being the principal point in view, the candid reader will pardon the admission of some pieces that have no other kind of merit. The design of this book being of a dramatic tendency, it may not be improperly intro- duced with a few observations on the origin of the English Stage, and on the conduct of our first Dramatic Poets ; a subject which, though not unsuccessfully handled by several good writers already,* will yet perhaps admit of some further illustration. ON THE ORIGIN OF THE ENGLISH STAGE, ETC. It is well known that dramatic poetry in this and most other nations of Europe owes its origin, or at least its revival, to those re- ligious shows, which in the dark ages were usually exhibited on the more solemn festi- vals. At those times they were wont to re- present in the churches the lives and miracles of the saints, or some of the more important stories of Scripture. And as the most myste- rious subjects were frequently chosen, such as the Incarnation, Passion, and Resurrection of Christ, &c, these exhibitions acquired the ge- neral name of Mysteries. At first they were * Bp. Warburton's Shakespeare, vol. v. p. 338.— Pref. to Dodsley's Old Plays. — Riccoboni's Acct. of Theat. of Europe, &e. &c. These were all the author had seen when he first drew up this Essay. probably a kind of dumb shows, intermingled, it may be, with a few short speeches ; at length they grew into a regular series of connected dialogues, formally divided into acts and scenes. Specimens of these in their most improved state (being at best but poor artless compositions) may be seen among Dodsley's Old Plays and in Osborne's Harleyan Miscel. How they were exhibited in their most sim- ple form, we may learn from an ancient novel, often quoted by our old dramatic Poets,- 1 - entitled " a Merye Jest of a man that was called Howleglas, "f &c, being a trans- lation from the Dutch language, in which he is named JJlenspiegle. Howleglass, whose waggish tricks are the subject of this book, after many adventures comes to live with a priest, who makes him his parish-clerk. This priest is described as keeping a Leman or concubine, who had but one eye, to whom Howleglass owed a grudge for revealing his rogueries to his master. The story thus pro- ceeds : "And than in the meane season, while Howleglas, was parysh clarke, at Easter they should play the Ressurrection of our Lorde : and for because than the men wer not learned, nor could not read, the priest toke his leman, and put her in the grave for an Aungell : and this seing Howleglas, toke to him iij of the symplest persons that were in the towne, that played the iij Maries; and the Person [i. e. Parson or Rector] played Christe, with a baner in his hand. Than saide Howleglas to the symple persons, When the Aungell asketh you, whome you seke, you may saye, The parsons leman with one iye. Than it fortuned that the tyme was come that they * See Ben Johnson's Poetaster, act iii. sec. 4, and his Masque of The Fortunate Isles. Whalley's edit. vol. ii. p. 49, vol. vi. p. 190. f Howleglass is said in the preface to have died in MCOCCL. At the end of the book, in mcccl. 94 ON THE ORIGIN OF THE ENGLISH STAGE. must playe, and the Aungel asked them whom they sought, and than sayd they, as Howleglas had shewed and lerned them afore, and than answered they, We seke the priests leman with one iye. And than the prieste might heare that he was mocked. And whan the priestes leman herd that, she arose out of the grave, and would have smyten with her fist Howleglas upon the cheke, but she missed him and smote one of the simple persons that played one of the thre Maries ; and he gave her another ; and than toke she him by the heare [hair] ; and that seing his wyfe, came running hastely to smite the priestes leman ; and than the priest seeing this, caste down hys baner and went to helpe his woman, so that the one gave the other sore strokes, and made great noyse in the churche. And than Howleglas seyng them lyinge together by the eares in the bodi of the churche, went his way out of the village, and came no more there.' 7 * As the old Mysteries frequently required the representation of some allegorical per- I sonage, such as Death, Sin, Charity, Faith, and the like, by degrees the rude poets of those unlettered ages began to form complete dramatic pieces consisting entirely of such personifications. These they entitled Moral Plays or Moralities. The Mysteries were very inartificial, representing the Scripture stories simply according to the letter. But the Moralities are not devoid of invention; they exhibit outlines of the dramatic art: they contain something of a fable or plot, and even attempt to delineate characters and manners. I have now before me two that were printed early in the reign of Henry VIII.; in which I think one may plainly discover the seeds of Tragedy and Comedy: for which rea- son I shall give a short analysis of them both. One of them is entitled "Every Man."f The subject of this piece is the summoning of Man out of the world by Death ; and its moral that nothing will then avail him but a well-spent life and the comforts of religion. This subject and moral are opened in a mo- nologue spoken by the Messenger (for that was the name generally given by our ances- *f. Tmprtnted . . by Wyi.t.yam Copland: -without date, 4to. bl. let. among Mr. Garrick's Old Plays, K. vol. X. fThis play has been reprinted by Mr. Hawkins in his 3 vols, of Old Plays, entitled, " The Origin of the English Drama," 12mo. Oxford, 1773. See vol. i. p. 27. tors to the Prologue on their rude stagt) : then God* is represented ; who, after some, general complaints on the degeneracy of man- kind, calls for Death, and orders him to bring before his tribunal Every-man, for so is callel the personage who represents the Human Race. Every-man appears, and receives the summons with all the marks of confusion and terror. "When Death is withdrawn, Every- Man applies for relief in this distress to Fel- lowship, Kindred, Goods, or Riches, but they successively renounce and forsake him. In this disconsolate state he betakes himself to Good Decles, who after upbraiding him with his long neglect of her,f introduces him to her sister Knowledge, and she leads him to the " holy man Confession," who appoints him penance : this he inflicts upon himself on the stage, and then withdraws to receive the sacraments of the priest. On his return he begins to wax faint, and, after Strength, Beauty, Discretion, and Five Wits (g) have taken their final leave of him, gradually ex- pires on the stage ; Good Decles still accom- panying him to the last. Then an Aungell descends to sing his Requiem ; and the Epi- logue is spoken by a person, called Doctour, who recapitulates the whole, and delivers the moral : " ^[. This memoriall men may have in m}*nde, Ye herers, take it of worth old and yonge, And forsake Pryde, for he deceyveth you in thende, And remembre Beaute, Five Witts, Strength and Discretion, They all at last do Every Man forsake ; Save his Good Dedes there dothe he take; But beware, for and they be small, Before God he hath no helpe at all," &c." From this short analysis it may be observed, that " Every Man" is a grave solemn piece, not without some rude attempts to excite ter- ror and pity, and therefore may not impro- perly be referred to the class of Tragedy. It is remarkable that in this old simple drama the fable is conducted upon the strictest model of the Greek tragedy. The action is simply * The second person of the Trinity seems to be meant. f The before-mentioned are male characters. % i. e. The Five Senses. These are frequently exhibited as five distinct personages upon the Spanish stage (see Riccoboni, p. 98) : but our moralist has represented them all by one character. ON THE ORIGIN OP THE ENGLISH STAGE. 95 one, the time of action is that of the perform- ance, the scene is never changed, nor the stage ever empty. Every-Man, the hero of the piece, after his first appearance never withdraws, except when he goes out to re- ceive the sacraments, which could not well be exhibited in public ; and during his absence Knowledge descants on the excellence and power of the priesthood, somewhat after the manner of the Greek chorus. And indeed, except in the circumstance of Every-Man's expiring on the stage, the Sampson Ago- nistes of Milton is hardly formed on a severer plan.* The other play is entitled " Hick-Scorn- er,"f and bears no distant resemblance to Comedy : its chief aim seems to be to exhibit characters and manners, its plot being much less regular than the foregoing. The Pro- logue is spoken by Pity, represented under the character of an aged pilgrim ; he is joined by Contemplacyon and Perseverance, two holy men, who, after lamenting the degene- racy of the age, declare their resolution of stemming the torrent. Pity then is left upon the stage, and presently found by Frewyll, representing a lewd debauchee, who, with his dissolute companion Imaginacion, relate their manner of life, and not without humour de- scribe the stews and other places of base re- sort. They are presently joined by Hick- Scorner, who is drawn as a libertine returned fiom travel, and agreeably to his name, scoffs at religion. These three are described as ex- tremely viscious, who glory in every act of wickedness : at length two of them quarrel, and Pity endeavours to part the fray; on this they fall upon him, put him in the stocks and there leave him. Pity, thus imprisoned, des- cants, in a kind of lyric measure, on the pro- fligacy of the age, and in this situation is found by Perseverance and Contemplacion, who set him at liberty and advise him to go in search of the delinquents. As soon as he is gone, Frewill appears again ; and, after re- lating in a very comic manner some of his rogueries and escapes from justice, is rebuked by the two holy men, who, after a long alter- cation, at length convert him and his libertine * See more of every man, in Series the Second, Pref. to B. ii., note. f "Imprynted by me Wynkyn de Worde." no date; in 4to. bl. let. This play has also been reprinted by Mr. Haw- kins in his " Origin of the English Drama," vol. i. p. 69. 13 companion Imaginacioun from their vicious course of life: and then the play ends with a few verses from Perseverance by way of epi- logue. This and every morality I have seen conclude with a solemn prayer. They are all of them in rhyme: in a kind of loose stanza, intermixed with distichs. It would be needless to point out the ab- surdities in the plan and conduct of the fore- going play : they are evidently great. It is sufficient to observe, that, bating the moral and religious reflection of Pity, &c, the piece is of a comic cast, and contains a humorous display of some of the vices of the age. In- deed the author has generally been so little attentive to the allegory, that we need only substitute other names to his personages, and we have real characters and living manners. We see then that the writers of these mo- ralities were upon the very threshold of real tragedy and comedy ; and therefore we are not to wonder that tragedies and come- dies in form soon after took place, especially as the revival of learning about this time brought them acquainted with the Roman and Grecian models. II. At what period of time the moralities had their rise here, it is difficult to discover. But plays of miracles appear to have been exhibited in England soon after the Conquest. Matthew Paris tells us that Geoffrey, after- wards Abbot of St. Albans, a Norman, who had been sent for over by Abbot Richard to take upon him the direction of the School of that monastery, coming too late, went to Dun- staple and taught in the abbey there ; where he caused to be acted (probably by his scho- lars) a miracle play of St. Catherine, composed by himself.* This was long before the year 1119, and probably within the 11th cen- tury. The above play of St. Catherine was, for aught that appears, the first spectacle of this sort that was exhibited in these king- doms : and an eminent French writer thinks it was even the first attempt towards the re- * Apud Dunestapliam .... quendum ludum de savcta Katerina {quern miracula vulgar iter ajipellamus) fecit. Ad qua decoranda, petiit a sacrista sancti Albani, ut sibi Capce Chorales accommndarentur, ei abtin uit. Et fuit ludus ille de sancta Katerina. Vitae Abbat. ad fin. Hist. Mat. Paris, fol. 1639, p. 56. — We see here that Plays of Miracles were become common enough in the time of Mat. Paris, who flourished about 1240. But that indeed appears from the more early writings of Fitz-Stepbens : quoted below 96 ON THE ORIGIN OF THE ENGLISH STAGE. rival of Dramatic Entertain men ts in all Europe ; being long before the Representa- tions of Mysteries in France ; for these did not begin till the year 1308.- But whether they derived their origin from the above exhibition or not, it is certain that Holy Pla}-s, representing the miracles and sufferings of the Saints, were become common in the reign of Henry II. ; and a lighter sort of Interludes appear not to have been then unknown. f In the subsequent age of Chaucer, " Plays of Miracles" in Lent were the common resort of idle gqssips.J They do not appear to have been so pre- valent on the continent, for the learned his- torian of the council of Constance^ ascribes to the English the introduction of plays into Germany. lie tells us that the Emperor, having been absent from the council for some time, was at his return received with great rejoicings, and that the English fathers in par- ticular did, upon that occasion; cause a sacred comedy to be acted before him on Sunday, Jan. 31, 1417; the subjects of which were:— The Nativity of our Saviour ; the arrival of the Eastern Magi ; and the Massacre by Herod. Thence it appears, says this writer, that the Germans are obliged to the English for the invention of this sort of spectacles, un- known to them before that period. The fondness of our ancestors for dramatic exhibitions of this kind, and some curious particulars relating to this subject, will ap- pear from the Houshold Book of the fifth Earl of Northumberland, A. D. 1512 :||— * Vid. Abrege Chron. de l'Hist. de France, par M. Henault, a l'aun. 1179. f See Fitz-Stephens"s Description of London, preserved by Stow (and reprinted witb notes, . Warburt. Shakesp. vol. v. || Reprinted among Dodsley's Old Plays, vol. i. T In some of these appeared characters full as extra- ordinary as in any of the old Moralities. In Ben Jonson's Masque (A Christmas. 1616. on" of the personages is Minced Pye. IV. The old mysteries, which ceased to be acted after the reformation, appear to have given birth to a third species of stage exhibi- tion, which, though now confounded with tragedy and comedy, were by our first dra- matic writers considered as quite distinct from them both : these were historical plays, or histories, a species of dramatic Avriting which resembled theold mysteries in represen- ting a series of historical events simply in the order of time in which they happened, without any regard to the three great unities. These pieces seem to differ from tragedies, just as much as historical poems do from epic: as the Pharsalia does from the iEneid. What might contribute to make dramatic poetry take this form was, that soon after the mysteries ceased to be exhibited, was pub- lished a large collection of poetical narratives, called "The Mirrour for Magistrates,"* wherein a great number of the most eminent characters in English history are drawn re- lating their own misfortunes. This book was popular, and of a dramatic cast ; and there- fore, as an elegant writerf has well observed, might have its influence in producing histori- cal plays. These narratives probably fur- nished the subjects, and the ancient mysteries suggested the plan. There appears indeed to have been one in- stance of an attempt at an historical play itself, which was perhaps as early as any mystery on a religious subject; for such, I think, we may pronounce the representation of a memorable event in English history, that was expressed in actions and rhymes. This was the old Coventry play of " Hock Tues- day/'! founded on the story of the massacre of the Danes, as it happened on St. Brice'o night, November 13, 1002.§ The play in question was performed by certain men of Coventry, among the other shows and enter- tainments at Kenilworth Castle, in July, 1575, prepared for Queen Elizabeth, and this the rather "because the matter mentioneth * The first part of which was printed in 1559. |- Catal. of Royal and Noble Authors, vol. p. 1667. | This must not be confounded with the mysteries acted on Corpus Christie day by the Franciscans at Coventry, which were also called Coventry Plays, and of which an account is given from T. Wartous Hist, of Eng. Poetry, Ac, in Malone*s Shaks. vol. ri. part ii. pag. 13, 14. \ Not 1012, as printed in Laneham's Letter, mentioned below. ON THE ORIGIN OF THE ENGLISH STAGE. 99 how valiantly our English women, for the love of their country, behaved themselves." The writer, whose words are here quoted,* hath given a short description of the per- formance; which seems on that occasion to have been without recitation or rhymes, and reduced to mere dumb show; consisting of violent skirmishes and encounters, first be- tween Danish and English " lance-knights on horseback," armed with spear and shield ; and afterwards between "hosts" of footmen; which at length ended in the Danes being " beaten down, overcome, and many led cap- tive by our English women. "f This play, it seems, which was wont to be exhibited in their city yearly, and which had been of great antiquity and long continuance there,£ had of late been suppressed, at the in- stance of some well meaning but precise preachers, of whose " sourness" herein the townsmen complain ; urging that their play was " without example of ill manners, papis- try, or any superstition ;"§ Avhich shows it to have been entirely distinct from a religious mystery. But having been discontinued, and, as appears from the narrative, taken up of a sudden after the sports were begun, the players apparently had not been able to re- cover the old rhymes, or to procure new ones, to accompany the action ; which if it origi- nally represented "the outrage and importa- ble insolency of the Danes, the grievous complaint of Huna, king Ethelred's chieftain in wars ;"j| his counselling and contriving the plot to despatch them ; concluding with the conflicts above mentioned, and their final suppression — "expressed in actions and * Ro. Laneham. whose Letter, containing a full descrip- tion of the Shows, &c, is reprinted at large in Nicholls's Progresses of Q. Elizabeth, &c, vol. i. 4to., 1788.— That writer's orthography, being peculiar and affected, is not here followed. Laneham describes this play of Hock Tuesday, which was <; presented in an historical cue by certain good-hearted men of Coventry" (p. 32), and which was "wont to be play'd in their citie yearly" (p. 33), as if it were peculiar to them, terming it " their old storial show" (p. 32).— And so it might be as represented and expressed by them " after their manner" (p. 33): although we are also told by Bevil Higgons, that St. Brice's Eve was still celebrated by the Northern English in commemoration of this massacre of the Danes, the women beating brass instruments, and singing old rhymes, in praise of their cruel ancestors. See his Short View of Eng. History, 8vo., p. 17. (The Preface is dated 1734.) t Laneham, p. 37. \ Ibid - P- 33- ? Ibid. j| Ibid. p. 32. rhymes after their manner,"* one can hardly conceive a more regular model of a complete drama ; and, if taken up soon after the event, it must have been the earliest of the kind in Europe.f Whatever this old play, or " storial show/'J was at the time it was exhibited to Queen Elizabeth, it had probably our young Shak- speare for a spectator, who was then in his twelfth year, and doubtless attended with all the inhabitants of the surrounding country, at these " princely pleasures of Kenilworth,"! whence Stratford is only a few miles distant. And as the Queen was much diverted with the Coventry pla} 7- , "whereat her majesty laught well," and rewarded the performers with two bucks and five marks in money : who, "what rejoicing upon their ample re- ward, and what triumphing upon the good acceptance, vaunted their play was never so dignified, nor ever any players before so bea- tified :" but especially if our young bard afterwards gained admittance into the castle to see a play, which the same evening, after supper, was there " presented of a very good theme, but to set forth by the actors' well handling, that pleasure and mirth made it seem very short, though it lasted two good hours and more,"(| we may imagine what an impression was made on his infant mind. In- deed the dramatic cast of many parts of that superb entertainment, which continued nine- teen days, and was the most splendid of the kind ever attempted in this kingdom ; the addresses to the Queen in the personated cha- racters of Sybille, a savage man, and Sylva- nus, as she approached or departed from the castle ; and, on the water, by Arion, a Triton, or the Lady of the Lake, must have had a very great effect on a young imagination, whose dramatic powers were hereafter to as- tonish the world. But that the historical play was considered by our old writers, and by Shakspeare him- self, as distinct from tragedy and corned}', will sufficiently appear from various passages * Laneham, p. 33. f The Rhymes, &c, prove this play to have been in Eng- lish, whereas Mr. Thos. Warton thinks the Mysteries com- posed before 1328 were in Latin. Malone's Shaksp. vol. ii. pt. ii. p. 9. % Laneham, p. 32. § See Nichols's Progresses, vol. i. p. 57. || Laneham, p. 38, 39. This was on Sunday evening; July 9. 100 ON THE ORIGIN OF THE ENGLISH STAGE. in their works. " Of late days," says Stow, " in place of those stage plays* hath been used comedies, tragedies, ontorludes and his- tories both true and fayned."f — Beaumont and Fletcher, in the prologue to " The Cap- tain," say, " This is nor Comedy, nor Tragedy, Nor History." Poloniusin "Hamlet" commends the actors, as the best in the world, " either for tragedie, comedie, historie,pastorall," &c. And Shak- speare's friends, Heminge and Condell, in the first folio edition of his plays, in 1623, J have not only entitled their book " Mr. William Shakspeare's comedies, histories, and trage- dies :" but in their table of contents have arranged them under those three several heads ; placing in the class of histories, " K. John, Richard II., Henry IV., 2 pts. Henry V.", Henry VI., 3 pts. Rich. III., and Henry VIII.;" to which, they might have added such of his other plays as have their subjects taken from the old Chronicles, or Plutarch's lives. Although Shakspeare is found not to have been the first who invented this species of dram*a,f yet he cultivated it with such supe- rior success, and threw upon this simple inar- tificial tissue of scenes such a blaze of genius that his histories maintain their ground in defiance of Aristotle and all the critics of the classic school, and will ever continue to interest and instruct an English audience. Before Shakspeare wrote, historical plays do not appear to have attained this distinc- tion, being not mentioned in Q. Elizabeth's license in 1574|| to James Burbage and others, who are only impowered " to use, ex- ercyse, and occupie, the arte and facultye of playenge comedies, tragedies, enterludes, stage-play es, and such other like." — But when Shakspeare's histories had become the orna- ments of the stage, they were considered by the public, and by himself, as a formal and ne- cessary species, and are thenceforth so distin- ;: 'J"l:e Creation of the World, acted at Skinners Well in 1409. t See Stow's Survey of London, 1603, 4to., p. 94, (said In the title page to be "written in the year 1598.") See •ls<> Warton's Observations on Spenser, vol. ii. p. 109. % The same distinction is continued in the 2d and 3d folios, Ac. \ See Malone'e Shaksp. vol. i. part ii. p. 31. f See Malone's Shaksp. vol. i. pt. ii. p. 37. guished in public instruments. They are particularly inserted in the license granted by K. James I., in 1003,* to W. Shakspeare himself, and the players his fellows ; who are authorized "to use and exercise the arte and faculty of playing comedies, tragedies, his- tories, interludes, morals, pastorals, stager plaies, and such like." The same merited distinction they con- tinued to maintain after his death, till the theatre itself was extinguished ; for they are expressly mentioned in a warrant in 1622, for licensing certain " late comedians of Q. Anne deceased, to bring up children in the qualitie and exercise of playing comedies, his- tories, interludes, morals, pastorals, stage- plaies, and such like."f The same appears in an admonition issued in 16371 by Philip Earl of Pembroke and Montgomery, then Lord Chamberlain, to the master and war- dens of the company of printers and station- ers; wherein is set forth the complaint of his Majesty's servants the players, that "diverse of their books of comedyes and tragedyes, chronicle-historyes, and the like," had been printed and published to their prejudice, &c. This distinction we see, prevailed for near half a century; but after the Restoration, when the stage revived for the entertainment of a new race of auditors, many of whom had been exiled in France, and formed their taste from the French theatre, Shakspeare's histories appear to have been no longer relished; at least the distinction respecting them is dropped in the patents that were im- mediately granted after the king's return. This appears not only from the allowance to Mr. William Beeston in June 1660,| to use the house in Salisbury-court "for a play- house, wherein comedies, tragedies, tragi comedies, pastoralls, and interludes, may he acted," but also from the fuller grant (dated August 21, 1760)|| to Thomas Killegrew, Esq., and Sir William Davenant, knt., by which * See Malone's Shaksp. vol. i. pt, ii. p. 40. f Ibid. p. 49. Here Histories, or Historical Plays, are found totally to have excluded the mention of Tragedies ; a proof of their superior popularity. In an Order for the King's Comedians to attend K. Charles I. in his summer's progress, 1636 (Ibid. p. 144), Histories are not particularly mentioned: hut so neither are tragedies: they being briefly directed to "act playes, comedyes. and interludes, without any lett," &c. \ Ibid, p. 139. # This is believed to be the date by Mr. Malone, vol. ii. pt. ii. p. 239. || Ibid. p. 244. ON THE ORIGIN OF THE ENGLISH STAGE. 101 they have authority to erect two companies of players, and to fit up two theatres " for the representation of tragydies, coraedyes, olayes, operas, and all other entertainments of that nature." But while Shakspeare was the favourite dramatic poet, his histories had such superior merit, that he might well claim to be the chief, if not the only historic dramatist that kept possession of the English stage ; which gives a strong support to the tradition mentioned by Gildon,* that, in a conversation with Ben Jonson, our bard vindicated his historical plays, by urging, that, as he had found " the nation in general very ignorant of history, he wrote them in order to instruct the people in this particular." This is assigning not only a good motive, but a very probable reason for his preference of this species of composi- tion ; since we cannot doubt but his illiterate countrymen would not only want such instruc- tion when he first began to write, notwith- standing the obscure dramatic chroniclers who preceded him ; but also that they would highly profit by his admirable lectures on English history so long as he continued to deliver them to his audience. And, as it implies no claim to his being the first who introduced our chronicles on the stage, I see not why the tradition should be rejected. Upon the whole, we have had abundant proof that both Shakspeare and his contempora- ries considered his histories, or historical plays, as of a legitimate distinct species, sufficiently separate from tragedy and comedy; a distinction which deserves the particular attention of his critics and commentators ; who, by not adverting to it, deprive him of his proper defence and best vindication for his neglect of the Unities, and departure from the classical dramatic forms. For, if it be the first canon of sound criticism to examine and work by whatever rule the author pre- scribed for his own observance, then we ought not to try Shakspeare's Histories by the general laws of tragedy or comedy. Whether the rule itself be vicious or not, is another inquiry ; but certainly we ought to examine a work only by those principles according to which it was composed. This would save a deal of impertinent criticism. * See Malone's Shaksp. vol. vi. p. 427. This ingenious writer will, with his known liberality, excuse the difference ftf opinion here entertained concerning the above tradition. V. We have now brought the inquiry as low as was intended, but cannot quit it, without entering into a short description of what may be called the G^conomy of the an- cient English stage. Such was the fondness of our forefathers for dramatic entertainments, that not fewer than nineteen play-houses had been opened before the year 1633, when Prynne published his Histriomastix.* From this writer it should seem that " tobacco, wine and beer,"f were in those days the usual accommodations in the theatre, as within our memory at Sadler's Wells. With regard to the players themselves, the several companies were (as hath been already shown) J retainers, *or menial servants to particular noblemen, $ who protected them in the exercise of their profession ; and many of them were occasionally Strollers, that * He speaks in p. 492, of the Playhouses in Bishopgate street, and on Ludgate Hill, which are not among the seventeen enumerated in the Preface to Dodsley's Old Plays. Nay, it appears from Rymer's MSS. that twenty-three Play- houses had been at different periods open in London : and even six of them at one time. See Malone's Shaksp. vol. i. pt. ii. p. 48. t So, I think, we may infer from the following passage, viz. " How many are there, who, according to their several qualities, spend 2d., 3d., 4d., 6d., 12d., 18d., 2s.. and some- times4s.or5s.ata play-house day by day , if coach-hire , boat- hire, tobacco, wine, beere, and such like vaine expences, which playes do usually occasion, be cast into the reckon- ing?" Prynne' s Hystriom. p. 322. But that tobacco was smoked in the playhouses, appears from Taylor the water-poet, in his proclamation for tobacco's propagation. •' Let play-houses, drinking-schools, taverns, &c, be continually haunted with the contaminous vapours of it; nay (if it be possible) bring it into the Churches, and there choak up their preachers." (Works, p. 253.) And this was really the case at Cambridge : James I. sent a letter, in 1607, against " taking tobacco" in St. Mary's. So I learn from my friend Dr. Parmer. A gentleman has informed me, that once going into a church in Holland, he saw the male part of the audience ' sitting with their hats on, smoking tobacco, while the preacher was holding forth in his morning gown. X See the extracts above, in p. 139, from the Earl of Northumb. Houshold Book. \ See the Pref. to Dodsley's Old Plays.— The author of an old invective against the Stage, called a third Blast of Retrait from Plaies, &c, 1580, 12mo., says, "Alas! that private affection should so raigne in the nobilitie, that to pleasure their servants, and to upholde them in their vanitye, they should restraine the magistrates from exe- cuting their office! .... They [the nobility] are thought to be covetous by permitting their servants ... to live at the devotion or almes of other men, passing from countrie to countrie, from one gentleman's house to another, offering their service, which is a kind of beggerie. Who indeode, to speake more truelie, are become beggers for their ser- vants. For comonlie the good-wil, men beare to their hordes, makes them draw the stringes of their purses to extend their liberalitie." Vid. pag. 75, 76, 1 by showing the governor, who could not read, a letter wUh the king's seal, which was all he looked at. 108 ADAM BELL, CLYM OF THE CLOUGH, Had we the keys, said Clim of the Clough, Ryght wel then shoukle we spede, 50 Then might we come out wel ynough When we se tyme and nede. Thoy called the porter to counsell, And wrang his necke in two, And caste hym in a depe dungeon, 55 And toke hys keys hym fro. Now am I porter, sayd Adam Bel, Se brother the keys are here, The worst porter to merry Carleile That ' the' had thys hundred yere. 60 And now wyll we our bowes bend, Into the towne wyll we go, For to delyuer our dere brother, That lyeth in care and wo. Then they bent theyr good ewe bowes, 65 And L>ked theyr stringes were round,* The markett place in mery Carleile They beset that stound. And, as they loked them besyde, A paire of new galowes ' they' see, 70 And the justice with a quest of squyers, That judged William hanged to be. And Cloudesle lay ready there in a cart, Fast bound both fote and hand ; And a stronge rop about hys necke, 75 All readye for to hange. The justice called to hym a ladde, Cloudeslees clothes hee shold have, To take the measure of that yeman, Therafter to make hys grave. 80 I have sene as great mervaile, said Cloudesle, As betweyne thys and pry me, He that maketh a grave for mee, Hymselfe may lye therin. Thou speakest proudlye, said the justice, 85 I will thee hange with my hande. Full wel herd this his brethren two, There styll as they dyd stande. * So Ascham in his Toxophilus gives a precept; "The etringe must be rounde;" (p. 149, ed. 1761 ;) otherwise, we may conclude from mechanical principles, the arrow will not lly true. Then Cloudesle cast his eyen asyde, And saw hys ' brethren twaine 90 At a corner of the market place, Redy the justice for to slaine. I se comfort, sayd Cloudesle, Yet hope I well to fare, If I might have my handes at wyll 95 Ryght lytle wolde I care. Then spake good Adam Bell To Clym of the Clough so free, Brother, se you marke the justyce wel, Lo ! yonder you may him se : 100 And at the shyrife shote I wyll Strongly wyth an arrowe kene ; A better shote in mery Carleile Thys seven yere was not sene. They loosed their arrowes both at once, 105 Of no man had they dread ; The one hyt the justice, the other the sheryfe, That both theyr sides gan blede. All men voyded ; that them stode nye, When the justice fell to the grounde, 110 And the sherife nye him by ; Eyther had his deathes wounde. All the citezens fast gan flye, They durst no longer abyde : There lyghtly they losed Cloudeslee, 115 Where he with ropes lay tyde. Wyllyam start to an officer of the towne, Hys axe ' from' hys hand he wronge, On eche syde he smote them downe, Hee thought he taryed too long. . 120 Wyllyam sayde to his brethren two, Thys daye let us lyve and die, If ever you have nede, as I have now, • The same shall you finde by me. They shot so well in that tyde, 125 Theyr stringes wer of silke ful sure, That they kept the stretes on every side That batayle did long endure. They fought together as brethren true, Lyke hardy men and bolde, 130 Many a man to the ground they threw And many a herte made colde. V. 105, lowsed thre, P. C. Ver. 103, can hied, MS. AND WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLY. 109 But when their arrowes were all gon, Men preced to them full fast, They drew theyr swordes then anone, 135 And theyr bowes from them cast. They went lyghtlye on theyr way, Wyth swordes and buclers round ; By that it was mydd of the day, They made many a wound. 140 There was an out-horne* in Carleile bio wen, And the belles backward dyd ryng, Many a woman sayde, Alas ! And many theyr handes dyd wryng. The mayre of Carleile forth com was, 145 Wyth hym a ful great route : These yemen dred hym full sore, Of theyr lyves they stode in great doute. The mayre came armed a full great pace, With a pollaxe in hys hande ; 150 Many a strong man wyth him was, There in that stowre to stande. The mayre smot at Cloudeslee with his bil, Hys bucler he brast in two, Full many a yeman with great evyll, 155 Alas ! Treason they cryed for wo. Kepe well the gates fast, they bad, That these traytours therout not go. But al for nought was that they wrought, For so fast they downe were layde, 160 Tyll they all thre, that so manfulli fought, Were gotten without, abraide. Have here your keys, sayd Adam Bel, Myne office I here forsake, And yf you do by my counsell 165 A new porter do ye make. He threw theyr keys at theyr heads, And bad them well to thryve,f And all that letteth any good yeman To come and comfort his wyfe. 170 Thus be these good yeman gon to the wod, As lyghtly as lefe on lynde ; The lough and be mery in theyr mode, Theyr enemyes were ferr behynd. V. 148, For of. MS. * Outhorae is an old term signifying the calling forth of subjects to arms by the sound of a horn. See Cole's Lat. Diet. Bailey, Ac. f This is spoken ironically. When they came to Englyshe wode, 175 Under the trusty tre, There they found bowes full good, And arrowes full great plentye. So God me help, sayd Adam Bell, And Clym of the Clough so fre, 18C I would we were in mery Carleile, Before that fayre meynye. They set them downe, and made good chere, And eate and dranke full well. A second fyt of the wightye yeomen : 185 Another I wyll you tell. PART THE THIRD. As they sat in Englyshe wood, Under the green-wode tre, They thought they herd a woman wepe, But her they mought not se. Sore then syghed the fayre Alyce : 5 ' That ever I sawe thys clay !' For nowe is my dere husband slayne. Alas ! and wel-a-way ! Myght I have spoken wyth hys dere brethren, Or with eyther of them twayne, 10 To show them what him befell, My hart were out of payne. Cloudesle walked a lytle beside, He looked under the grene wood lynde, He was ware of his wife, and chyldren three, Full wo in harte and mynde. 16 Welcome, wyfe, then sayde Wyllyam, Under ' this' trusti tre : I had wende yesterday, by swete saynt John, Thou sholdest me never ' have' se. 20 " Now well is me that ye be here, My harte is out of wo." Dame, he sayde, be mery and glad, And thanke my brethren two. Herof to speake, said Adam Bell, 25 I-wis it is no bote : The meate, that we must supp withall, It runneth yet fast on fote. V. 175, merry green wood, MS. V. 1S5, see part i. v. 197 V. 20, never had se, P. C. and MS. 110 ADAM BELL, CLYM OF THE C LOUGH, Then went they downe into a launde, These noble archares all thre ; 30 Eche of them slow a hart of greece, The best that they cold se. Have here the best, Alyce, my wife, Sayde Wyllyam of Cloudeslye ; By cause ye so bouldly stode by me 35 When I was slayne full nye. Then went they to suppere Wyth such meate as they had ; And thanked God of ther fortune : They were both mery and glad. 40 And when they had supped well, Certayne withouted lease, Cloudesle sayd, We wyll to our kyng, To get us a charter of peace. Alyce shal be at our sojournyng 45 In a nunnery here besyde ; My tow sonnes shall wyth her go, And there they shall abyde. Myne eldest son shall go wyth me ; For hym have ' you' no care : 50 And he shall bring you worde agayn, How that we do fare. Thus be these yemen to London gone, As fast as they myght ' he,'* Tyll they came to the kynges pallace, 55 Where they woulde nedes be. And whan they came to the kynges courte, Unto the pallace gate, Of no man wold they aske no leave, But boldly went in therat. 60 They preced prestly into the hall, Of no man had they dreade : The porter came after, and dyd them call, And with them began to chyde. The usher sayde, Yemen, what wold ye have? I pray you tell to me : 66 You myght thus make offycers shent : Good syrs, of whence be ye ? Syr, we be out-lawes of the forest Certayne withouten lease ; 70 And h ether we be come to the kyng, To get us a charter of peace. V. 50, have I no care, P. C. * i. e. hie, hasten. And whan they came before the kyng, As it was the lavve of the lande, The kneled down without lettyng, And eche held up his hand. 75 The sayed, Lord, we beseche the here, That ye wyll graunt us grace ; For we have slayne your fat Mow dere In many a sondry place. 80 What be your nams, then said our king, Anone that you tell me ? They sayd, Adam Bell, Clim of the Clough, And Wyllyam of Cloudesle. Be ye those theves, then sayd our kyng, 85 That men have tolde of to me? Here to God I make an avowe, Ye shal be hanged al thre. Ye shal be dead without mercy, As I am kynge of this lande. 90 He commanded his officers everichone, Fast on them to lay hande. Then they toke these good yemen, And arested them al thre : So may I thryve, sayd Adam Bell, 95 Thys game lyketh not me. But, good lorde, we beseche you now, That yee graunt us grace, Insomuche as ' frely' we be to you come, ' As frely' we may fro you passe, 100 With such weapons, as we have here, Tyll we be out of your place ; And yf we lyve this hundreth yere, We wyll aske you no grace. Ye speake proudly, sayd the kynge ; 105 Ye shall be hanged all thre. That were great pitye, then sayd the quene, If any grace myght be. My lorde, whan I came fyrst into this lande To be your wedded wyfe, 110 The fyrst boone that I wold aske, Ye would graunt it me belyfe : And I asked you never none tyll now; Therefore, good lorde, graunt it me. Now aske it, madam, sayd the kynge, 115 And graunted it shal be. V. Ill, 119, sic. MS. bowne, P. C. AND WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLY. Ill Then, good my lord, I you beseche, These yeraen graunt ye me. Madame, ye myght have asked a boone, 119 That shuld have been worth them all thre. Ye myght have asked towres, and townes, Parkes and forestes plente. None soe pleasant to my pay, shee sayd ; Nor none so lefe to me. Madame, sith it is your desyre, 125 Your askyng graunted shal be ; But I had lever have given you Good market townes thre. The queue was a glad woman, And sayde, Lord, gramarcy ; 130 I dare undertake for them, That true men shal they be. But, good my lord, speke som mery word, That comfort they may se. I graunt you grace, then sayd our king ; 135 Wash, felos, and to meate go ye. They had not setten but a whyle Certayne without lesynge, There came messengers out of the north With letters to our kyng. 140 And whan the came before the kynge, They knelt down on theyr kne ; And sayd, Lord, your officers grete you well, Of Carleile in the north cuntre. How fareth my justice, sayd the kyng, 145 And my sherife also? Syr, they be slayne without leasynge, And many an officer mo. Who hath them slayne? sayd the kyng; Anone that thou tell me. 150 "Adam Bell, and Clime of the Clough, And Wyllyam of Cloudesle." Alas, for rewth ! then sayd our kynge : My hart is wonderous sore ; I had lever than a thousande pounde, 155 I had knowne of thys before ; For I have graunted them grace, And that forthynketh me: But had I knowne all thys before, They had been hanged all thre. 160 V. 130, God a mercye, MD. The kyng heo opened the letter anone, Himselfe he red it thro, And founde how these outlawes had slain Thre hundred men and mo : Fyrst the justice, and the sheryfe, 165 And the mayre of Carleile towne ; Of all the constables and catchipolles Alyve were ' scant' left one : The bay lyes, and the bedyls both, And the sergeauntes of the law, 170 And forty fosters of the fe, These outlawes had yslaw : And broke his parks, and slayne his dere ; Of all they chose the best ; So perelous out-lawes, as they were, 175 Walked not by easte nor west. When the kynge this letter had red, In hys harte he syghed sore : Take up the tables anone he bad, • For I may eat no more. 180 The kyng called hys best archars To the buttes wyth hym to go : I wyll se those felowes shote, he sayd, In the north have wrought this wo. The kynges bowmen buske them blyve, 185 And the quenes archers also ; So dyd these thre Avyghte yemen ; With them they thought to go. There twyse, or thryse they shote about For to assay theyr hande ; 190 There was no shote these yemen shot, That any prycke* myght stand. Then spake Wyllyam of Cloudesle ; By him that for me dyed, I hold hymn never no good archar, 195 That shoteth at buttes so wyde. 'At what a butte now wold ye shote V I pray thee tell to me. At suche a but, syr, he sayd, As men use in my countree. 200 Wyllyam wente into a fyeld, And ' with him* his two brethren : There they set up two hasell roddes Twenty score paces betwene. V. 168, left but one, MS., not one, P. C. Ter. 185, bly the, MS. Ter. 202, 203, to, P. C. Ver. 204, i. e. 400 yards. 15 112 ADAM BELL, CLYM OF THE CLOUGH, AND WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLY. I hold him an archar, said Cloudesle, 205 That yonder wande cleveth in two. Here is none suche, sayd the kyng, Nor no man can so do. I shall assaye, syr, sayd Cloudesle, Or that I farther go. 210 Cloudesly with a bearyng arowe Clave the wand in two. Thou art the best archer, then said the king, Forsothe that ever I se. And yet for your love, sayd Wyllyam, 215 I wyll do more maystery. I have a sonne is seven yere olde, He is to me full deare ; I wyll hym tye to a stake ; All shall se, that be here : 220 225 230 235 And lay an apple upon hys head, And go syxe score paces hym fro, And I my selfe with a broad ardw Shall cleve the apple in two. Now haste the, then sayd the kyng, By hym that dyed on a tre, But yf thou do not, as thou hest sayde, Hanged shalt thou be. And thou touche his head or gowne, In syght that men may se, By all the sayntes that be in heaven, I shall hange you all thre. That I have promised, said William, That I wyll never fursake. And there even before the kynge In the earth he drove a stake : And bound therto his eldest sonne, And bad hym stand styll thereat ; And turned the childes face him fro, Because he should not start. An apple upon his head he set, And then his bowe he bent : Syxe score paces they were meaten, And thether Cloudesle went. There he drew out a fayr brode arrowe, Hys bowe was great and longe, He set that arrowe in his bowe, * That was both styffe and stronge. Ver. 208, sic. MS., none that can, P. C. Ver. 212, to, P. C. Ver. 222, i. e. 120 yards. Ver. 243, sic. MS., out met. P. C. 240 245 He prayed the people, that wer there, That they * all still wold' stand, 250 For he that shoteth for such a wager Behoveth a stedfast hand. Muche people prayed for Cloudesle, That his lyfe saved myght be, And whan he made hym redy to shote, 255 There was many weeping ee. ' But' Cloudesle clefte the apple in two, ' His sonne he did not nee.' Over Gods forbode, sayde the kinge, That thou shold shote at me. 260 I geve thee eightene pence a day, And my bowe shalt thou bere, And over all the north countre I make the chyfe rydere. And I thyrtene pence a day, said the quene, By God, and by my fay ; 266 Come feche thy payment when thou wylt, No man shall say the nay. Wyllyam, make the a gentleman Of clothyng, and of fe : 270 And thy two brethren, yemen of my chambre, For they are so semely to se. Your sonne, for he is tendre of age, Of my wyne-seller he shall be ; And when he commeth to mans estate, Better avaunced shall he be. 275 And, W}dlyam, bring me your wife, said the quene, Me longeth her sore to se : She shall be my chefe gentlewoman, To governe my nurserye. 280 The yemen thanked them all curteously. To some byshop wyl we wend, Of all the synnes, that we have done, To be assoyld at his hand. So forth be gone these good yemen, 285 As fast as they might ' he' ;* And after came and dwelled with the kynge, And dye good men all thre. Thus endeth the lives of these good yemen ; God send them eternall blysse ; 290 And all, that with a hand-bowe shoteth : That of heven may never mysse. Amen. Ver. 252, steedye, MS. Ver. 265, And I gave the xvij pence, P. C. Ver. 282, And sayd to some Bishopp wee will wend, MS. * he, i. e. hie, hasten. See the Glossary. THE AGED LOVER RENOUNCETH LOVE. 113 II. tlje ggc* $ ate gtarawtjj fait. The grave-digger's song in Hamlet, act v., is taken from three stanzas of the following poem, though greatly altered and disguised, as the same were corrrupted by the ballad- singers of Shakspeare's time : or perhaps so designed by the poet himself, the better to suit the character of an illiterate clown. The original is preserved among Surrey's Poems, and is attributed to Lord Vaux, by George Gas- coigne, who tells us, it " was thought by some to be made upon his death-bed ;" a pop- ular error which he laughs at. (See his Epist, to Yong Gent, prefixed to his Posies, 1575, 4to.) It is also ascribed to Lord Vaux in a manuscript copy preserved in the British Museum.* This lord was remarkable for his skill in drawing feigned manners, &c, for so I understand an ancient writer. "The Lord Vaux his commendation lyeth chiefly in the facilitie of his meetre, and the aptnesse of his descriptions such as he taketh upon him to make, namely in sundry of his songs, wherein he showeth the counterfait action very lively and pleasantly." Arte of Eng. Poesie, 1539, p. 51. See another song by this poet in Series the Second, No. VIII. I loth that I did love In youth that I thought swete, As time requires : for my behove Me thinkes they are not mete. My lustes they do me leave, 5 My fansies all are fled ; And tract of time begins to weave Gray heares upon my hed. For Age with steling steps Hath clawde me with his crowch, 10 And lusty ' Youthe' away he leapes, As there had been none such. Ver. 6, be, P. C. [printed copy in 1557.] V. 10, Crowch perhaps should be clouch, clutch, grasp. Ver. 11, Life away she, P. C. * Harl. MSS. num. 1703, \ 25. The readings gathered from that copy are distinguished here by inverted commas. The text is printed from the " Songs," &c, of the Earl of Surrey and otbers, 1557, 4to. My muse doth not delight Me, as she did before : My hand and pen are not in plight, 15 As they have bene of yore. For Reason me denies, ' All' youthly idle rime ; And day by day, to me she cries, Leave off these toyes in tyme. 20 The wrinkles in my brow, The furrowes in my face Say, Limping age will ' lodge' him now, Where youth must geve him place. The harbenger of death, 25 To me I se him ride, The cough, the cold, the gasping breath, Doth bid me to provide A pikeax and a spade, And eke a shrowding shete, 30 A house of clay for to be made For such a guest most mete. Me thinkes I heare the clarke, That knoles the carefull knell ; And bids me leave my ' weary e' warke, 35 Ere nature me compell. My kepers * knit the knot, That youth doth laugh to scorne, Of me that ' shall bee cleane' forgot, As I had ' ne'er' bene borne. 40 Thus must I youth geve up, Whose badge I long did weare : To them I yeld the wanton cup, That better may it beare. V. 18, This, P. C. Ver. 23, So Ed. 1583 ; 'tis hedge in Ed. 1557, hath caught him, MS. V. 30, wyndynge-sheete. MS. V. 34. bell, MS. V. 35, wofull. P. C. V. 38, did , P. C. V 39, clene shal be, P. C. V. 40. not, P. C. * Alluding perhaps to Eccles. xii. 3. 114 JEPHTHAH JUDGE OF ISRAEL. Lo here the bared skull ; 45 By whose balde signe I know, That stouping age away shall pull ' What' youthful yeres did sow. For Beautie with her band, These croked cares had wrought, 50 And shipped me into the land, From whence I first was brought. And ye that bide behinde, Have ye none other trust: As ye of claye were cast by kinde, So shall ye ' turne' to dust. III. $*pfctM l^P flf IsmL In Shakspeare's Hamlet, act ii., the hero of the play takes occasion to banter Polonius with some scraps of an old ballad, which has never appeared yet in any collection : for which reason, as it is but short, it will not perhaps be unacceptable to the reader ; who will also be diverted with the pleasant ab- surdities of the composition. It was retriev- ed from utter oblivion by a lady, who wrote it down from memory, as she had formerly heard it sung by her father. I am indebted for it to the friendship of Mr. Steevens. It has been said, that the original ballad, in blackletter, is among Anthony a Wood's Collections in the Ashmolean Museum. But, upon application lately made, the volume which contained this Song was missing, so that it can only now be given as in the former edition. The banter of Hamlet is as follows : "Hamlet. '0 Jeptha, Judge of Israel/ what a treasure hadst thou ! " Polonius. What a treasure had he, my lord? " Ham. Why, ' One faire daughter, and no more, The which he loved passing well/ " Polon. Still on my daughter. " Ham. Am not I i' th' right, old Jeptha ? " Polon. If you call me Jeptha, my lord, I have a daughter, that I love passing well. " Ham. Nay, that follows not. "Polon. What follows then, my lord? "Ham. Why, 'As by lot, God wot:' and then you know, ' It came to passe, As most V. 45, bare-hedde, M3., and some, P. CC. P. C, That MS., What is conject. V. 48, Which, like it was/ The first row of the pious chan* son will shew you more." Edit. 1793, vol. xv. p. 133. Have you not heard these many years ago, Jeptha was judge of Israel ? He had one only daughter and no mo, The which he loved passing well : And, as by lott, 5 God wot, It so came to pass, As Gods will was, That great wars there should be, And none should be chosen chief but he. 10 And when he was appointed judge, And chieftain of the company, A solemn vow to God he made ; If he returned with victory, At his return 15 To burn The first live thing, # * * * That should meet with him then, Off his house, when he should return agen It came to pass, the wars was oer, 21 And he returned with victory ; His dear and only daughter first of all Came to meet her father foremostly : And all the way, 25 She did play On tabret and pipe, Full many a stripe, With note so high, For joy that her father is come so nigh. 30 V. 56, wast, P. C. A ROBYN JOLLY ROBYN. 115 But when he saw his daughter dear Coming on most foremostly, He wrung his hands, and tore his hair, And cryed out most piteously ; Oh ! it's thou, said he, 35 That have brought me Low, And troubled me so, That I know not what to do. For I have made a vow, he sed, The which must be replenished : 40 * * * * " What thou hast spoke Do not revoke : What thou hast said, 45 Be not affraid ; Altho' it be I ; Keep promises to God on high. But, dear father, grant me one request, That I may go to the wilderness, Three months there with my friends to stay ; There to bewail my virginity ; 51 And let there be, Said she, Some two or three Young maids with me." So he sent her away, For to mourn, for to mourn, till her dying day. IV. JL $rtp pijj $0|p. In his " Twelfth Night," Shakspeare in- troduces the clown singing part of the two first stanzas of the following song ; which has been recovered from an ancient MS. of Dr. Harrington's at Bath, preserved among the many literary treasures transmitted to the ingenious and worthy possessor by a long line of most respectable ancestors. Of these only a small part hath been printed in the " Nugse Antiquse," 3 vols. 12mo. ; a work which the public impatiently wishes to see continued. The song is thus given by Shakspeare, act iv. sc. 2. (Malone's edit. iv. 93.) Clown. " Hey Robin, jolly Robin." [sing- ing.] " Tell me how thy lady does." Malcolio. Fool. Clown. " My lady is unkind, perdy. Malvolio. Fool. Clown. " Alas, why is she so ?" Malvolio. Fool, I say. Clown. " She loves another." Who calls, ha?" Dr. Farmer has conjectured that the song Biiould begin thus : " Hey, jolly Robin, tell to me How does thy lady do ? My lady is unkind perdy — Alas, why is she so ?" But this ingenious emendation is now super- seded by the proper readings of the old song itself, which is here printed from what ap- pears the most ancient of Dr. Harrington's poetical MSS., and which has, therefore, been marked No. I. (scil. p. 68). That volume seems to have been written in the reign of King Henry VIII., and as it contains many of the poems of Sir Thomas Wyat, hath had almost all the contents attributed to him by marginal directions written with an old but later hand, and not always rightly, as, I think, might be made appear by other good authori- ties. Among the rest, this song is there at- tributed to Sir Thomas Wyat also ; but the discerning reader will probably judge it to belong to a more obsolete writer. In the old MS. to the 3d and 5th stanzas is prefixed this title, Responce, and to the 4th and 6th, Le Plaintif; but in the last instance so evidently wrong, that it was thought better to omit these titles, and to mark the changes of the dialogue by inverted commas. In other respects the MS. is strictly followed, except where noted in the margin — Yet the first stanza appears to be defective, and it should seem that a line is wanting, unless the four first words were lengthened in the tune. 116 A SONG TO THE LUTE IN MUSICKE. A RoBYN, Jolly Robyn, Tell me how thy leman doeth, And thou shalt knowe of myn. " My lady is unkyinde perde." Alack ! vrhy is she so ? " She loveth another better than me And yet she will say no." I fynde no such doublenes : I fynde women true. My lady loveth me dowtles, And will change for no newe. 10 " Thou art happy while that doeth last ; But I say, as I fynde, That women's love is but a blast, 15 And torneth with the wynde." Suche folkes can take no harme by love, That can abide their torn. " But I alas can no way prove In love but lake and morn." 20 But if thou wilt avoyde thy harme Lerne this lesson of me, At others fieres thy selfe to warme, And let them warme with thee. V. g, §0ttg to % % xit in itaitk This sonnet (which is ascribed to Richard Edwards* in the " Paradise of Daintie Devi- ses," fo. 31, b.) is by Shakspeare made the subject of some pleasant ridicule in his "Ro- meo and Juliet," act iv. sc. 5, where he intro- duces Peter putting this question to the mu- sicians. 11 Peter. . . . why 'Silver Sound'? 'why ' Musicke with with her silver sound'? what say you, Simon Catling? " 1 Mus. Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound. " Pet. Pretty ! what say you, Hugh Re- becke ? " 2 Mus. I say, silver sound, because mu- sicians sound for silver. " Pet. Pretty too ! what say you, James Soundpost ? " 3 Mus. Faith, I know not what to say. " Pet I will say it for you : It is * musicke with her silver sound,' because musicians have no gold for sounding." Edit. 1793, vol. xiv. p. 529. This ridicule is not so much levelled at the song itself (which for the time it was written Yer. 4. shall, MS. * Concerning him, see Wood's Athen. Oxon. and Tanner's BibU^th.; also Sir John Hawkin's Hist, of Music, &c. is not inelegant), as at those forced and unna- tural explanations often given by us painful editors and expositors of ancient authors. This copy is printed from an old quarto MS. in the Cotton Library (Vesp. A. 26), en- titled, " Divers things of Hen. viij's time :" with some corrections from The Paradise of Dainty Devises, 1596. Where gripingegrefes thehartwould wounde, And dolefulle dumps the mynde oppresse, There musicke with her silver sound With spede is wont to send redresse ; Of trobled mynds, in every sore, 5 Swete musicke hathe a salve in store. In joye yt maks our mirthe abounde, In woe yt cheres our hevy sprites ; Be strawghted heads relyef hath founde, 9 By musickes pleasaunte swete delightes: Our senses all, what shall I say more ? Are subjecte untomusicks lore. The Gods by musicke have theire prayse ; The lyfe, the soul therein doth joye: For, as the Romayne poet saves, IS In seas, whom pyrats would destroy, A dolphin saved from death most sharpe Arion playing on his harpe. KING COPHETUA AND THE BEGGAR-MAID. 117 heavenly gyft, that rules the mynd, 19 Even as the sterne dothe rule the shippe ! musicke, whom the Gods assinde To comforte rnanne, whom cares would nippe I Since thow bothe man and beste doest move, What beste ys he, wyll the disprove ? VI. png (fogbeto aitir % §cgpr-fpitft, — is a story often alluded to by our old dra- matic writers. Shakspeare, in his Romeo and Juliet, act ii. sc. 1, makes Mercutio say, " Her (Venus's) purblind son and heir, Young Adam* Cupid, he that shot so true, When King Cophetua loved the beggar- maid. As the 13th line of the following ballad seems here particularly alluded to, it is not improbable that Shakspeare wrote it " shot so trim," which the players or printers, not perceiving the allusion, might alter to "true." The former, as being the more humorous ex- pression, seems most likely to have come from the mouth of Mercutio.f In the 2d part of Hen. IV., act v. sc. 3, Falstaff is introduced affectedly saying to Pistoll, "0 base Assyrian knight, what is thy news? Let King Cophetua know the truth thereof." These lines, Dr. Warburton thinks, were taken from an old bombast play of " King Cophe- tua." No such play is, I believe, now to be found ; but it does not therefore follow that it never existed. Many dramatic pieces are referred to by old writers, $ which are not now extant, or even mentioned in any list. In the infancy of the stage, plays were often exhibited that were never printed. It is probably in allusion to the same play that Ben Jonson says, in, his Comedy of "Every Man in his Humour," act iii. sc. 4, * See above, Preface to Song i. Book ii. of this vol. p. 158. f Since this conjecture first occurred, it has been disco- vered that "shot so trim" was the genuine reading. See Shakspeare ed. 1793, xiv. 393. % See Meres Wits Treas. f. 283. Arte of Eng. Poes. 1589, p. 51, 111, 143, 169. " I have not the heart to devour thee, an' I might be made as rich as King Cophetua." At least there is no mention of King Cophe- tua' s riches in the present ballad, which is the oldest I have met with on the subject. It is printed from Rich. Johnson's "Crown Garland of Goulden Roses," 1612, 12mo. (where it is entitled simply " A Song of a Beggar and a King") : corrected by another copy. I read that once in Affrica A princely wight did raine, Who had to name Cophetua, As poets they did faine : From natures lawes he did decline, 5 For sure he was not of my mind, He cared not for women-kinde, But did them all disdaine. But marke, what hapned on a day, As he out of his window lay, 10 He saw a beggar all in gray, The which did cause his paine. The blinded boy, that shootes so trim. From heaven downe did hie ; He drew a dart and shot at him, 15 In place where he did lye : Which soone did pierse him to the quicke, And when he felt the arrow pricke, Which in his tender heart did sticke He looketh as he would dye. 20 What sudden chance is this, quoth he, That I to love must subject be, Which never thereto would agree, But still did it defie ? Then from the window he did come, And laid him on his bed, A thousand heapes of care did runne Within his troubled head: 25 118 KING COPIIETUA AND THE BEGGAR-MAID. For now he racanes to crave her love, And now he seekes which way to proove How he his fancie might remoove, 31 And not this beggar wed. But Cupid had him so in snare, That this poor beggar must prepare A salve to cure him of his care, 35 Or els he would be dead. And, as he musing thus dyd lye, He thought for to devise How he might have her company e, That did so 'maze his eyes. 40 In thee, quoth he, doth rest my life : For surely thou shalt be my wife, Or else this hand with bloody knife The Gods shall sure suffice. Then from his bed he soon arose, 45 And to his pallace gate he goes ; Full little then this begger knowes When she the king espies. The Gods preserve your majesty, The beggers all gan cry : 50 Vouchsafe to give your charity Our childrens food to buy. The king to them his pursse did cast, And they to part it made great haste ; This silly woman was the last 55 That after them did bye. The king he caPd her back againe, And unto her he gave his chaine ; And said, With us you shal remaine Till such time as we dye : 60 For thou, quoth he, shalt be my wife, And honoured for my queene ; With thee I meane to lead my life, As shortly shall be seene : Our wedding shall appointed be, 65 And every thing in its degree : Come on, quoth he, and follow me, Thou shalt go shift thee cleane. What is thy name, faire maid ? quoth he. Penelophon,* king, quoth she : 70 With that she made a lowe courtsey ; A trim one as I weene. * Shakspeare (who alludes to this ballad in bis " Love's Labour lost." act. iv. so. 1), gives the Beggars name Zenelo- jthan. according to all the old editions : but this seems to be a corruption ; for Penelophon, in the text, sounds more like the name of a woman. — Tbe story of the King and the Beggar is also alluded to in K. Rich. II. act v. sc. 3. Thus hand in hand along they walke Unto the king's pallace : The king with courteous comly talke 75 This begger doth imbrace : The begger blusheth scarlet red, And straight againe as pale as lead, But not a word at all she said, She was in such amaze. 80 At last she spake with trembling voyce, And said, O king, I doe rejoyce That you wil take me for your choyce, And my degree's so base. And when the wedding day was come, 85 The king commanded strait The noblemen both all and some Upon the queene to wait. And she behaved herself that day, As if she had never walkt the way : 90 She had forgot her gown of gray, Which she did weare of late. The proverbe old is come to passe, The priest, when he begins his masse, Forgets that ever clerke he was ; 95 He knowth not his estate. Here you may read, Cophetua, Though long time fancie-fed, Compelled by the blinded boy The begger for to wed : 100 He that did lovers lookes disdaine, To do the same was glad and faine, Or els he would himselfe have slaine, In storie, as we read. Disdaine no whit, O lady deere, 105 But pitty now thy servant heere, Least that it hap to thee this yeare, As to that king it did. And thus they led a quiet life During their princely raigne : 110 And in a tombe were buried both, As writers sheweth plaine. The lords they tooke it grievously, The ladies tooke it heavily, The commons cryed pitiously, 115 Their death to them was paine, Their fame did sound so passingly That it did pierce the starry sky, And throughoute all the world did flye To every princes realme.* V. 90, i. e. tramped the streets. V. 105, Here the Poet addresses himself to his mistress. V. 112, Sheweth was anciently the plur. numb. * An ingenious friend thinks the two last stanzas should change place. TAKE THY OLD CLOAK ABOUT THEE. 119 VII. Sake tbjj ©to Cloak about %e. —is supposed to have been originally a Scotch ballad. The reader here has an ancient copy in the English idiom, with an additional stanza (the 2d) never before printed. This curiosity is preserved in the Editor's folio MS., but not without corruptions, which are here removed by the assistance of the Scottish Edition. Shakspeare, in his Othello, act ii., has quoted one stanza, with some variations, which are here adopted : the old MS. read- ings of that stanza are however given in the margin. This winters weather itt waxeth cold, And frost doth freese on every hill, And Boreas blowes his blasts soe bold, That all our cattell are like to spill ; Bell my wiffe, who loves noe strife, 5 Shee sayd unto me quietlye, Rise up, and save cow Cumbockes liffe, Man, put thine old cloake about thee. He.' Bell, why dost thou flyte ' and scorne V Thou kenst my cloak is very thin : 10 Itt is soe bare and overworne A cricke he theron cannot renn : Then He no longer borrowe nor lend, ' For once He new appareld bee, To-morrow He to towne and spend/ 15 For He have a new cloake about mee. She. Cow Crumbocke is a very good cowe, Shee ha beene alwayes true to the payle Shee has helpt us to butter and cheese, I trow, And other things shee will not fayle ; 20 1 wold be loth to see her pine, Good husband, councell take of mee, It is not for us to go soe fine, Man, take thine old cloake about thee. He. My cloake it was a very good cloake, 25 Itt hath been alwayes true to the weare, But now it is not worth a groat ; I have had it four and forty yeere : Sometime itt was of cloth in graine, J Tis now but a sigh clout as you may see, 16 It will neither hold out winde nor raine ; 31 And lie have a new cloake about mee. She. It is four and fortye yeeres agoe Since the one of us the other did ken, And we have had betwixt us towe 35 Of children either nine or ten ; Wee have brought them up to women and men ; In the feare of God I trow they bee ; And why wilt thou thyselfe misken ? Man, take thine old cloake about thee. 40 He. Bell my wiffe, why dost thou ' floute V Now is nowe, and then was then : Seeke now ail the world throughout, Thou kenst not clownes from gentlemen. They are cladd in blacke, greene, yellowe, or gray, 45 Soe far above their owne degree : Once in my life He ' doe as they/ For He have a new cloake about mee. She. King Stephen was a worthy peere, His breeches cost him but a crowne, 50 He held them sixpence all too deere ; Therefore he calld the taylor Lowne. He was a wight of high renowne, And thouse but of a low degree : Itt's pride that putts this countrye downe, 55 Man, take thine old cloake about thee. He. ' Bell my wife she loves not strife, Yet she will lead me if she can ; And oft, to live a quiet life, I am forced to yield, though Ime good- man / 60 Itt's not for a man with a woman to threape, Unlesse he first gave oer the plea : As wee began wee now will leave, And He take mine old cloake about mee. V. 41. flyte. MS. V. 49. King Harry . . a very good king, MS. V. 50, 1 trow his hose cost but. MS. T. 51, He thought them 12d. to deere, MS. V. 52, elowne, MS. V. 53, He was king and ware the crowne, MS. 120 WILLOW, WILLOW, WILLOW. VIII. Milloto, fflfflbto, HBIIotv. Her heart's hard as marble ; she rues not ray mone. willow, &c. 20 It is from the following stanzas that Shak- speare has taken his song of the " Willow," in his Othello, act iv. sc. 3, though somewhat varied and applied by him to a female cha- j Sing, the greene willow, &c. meter. He makes Desdemona introduce it j in this pathetic and affecting manner : j The cold streams ran by him, his eyes wept apace ; willow, &c. " My mother had a maid calPd Barbara : She was in love ; and he she lov'd prov'd mad, And did forsake her. She had a song of — Willow. An old thing 'twas, but it expressed her for- tune, Aud she died singing it." Ed. 1793, vol. xv. p. 613. This is given from a black-letter copy in the Pepys collection, thus entitled, "A Lover's Complaint, being forsaken of his Love." To a pleasant tune. A poore soule sat sighing under a sicamore tree ; willow, willow, willow ! With his hand on his bosom, his head on his knee: willow, willow, willow ! willow, willow, willow ! 5 Sing, the greene willow shall be my gar- land. He sigh'd in his singing, and after each grone, Come willow, &c. I am dead to all pleasure, my true-love is gone; willow, &c. 10 Sing, the greene willow shall be my gar- land. My love she is turned ; untrue she doth prove; willow, &c. She renders me nothing but hate for my love. O willow, &c. 15 Sing, the greene willow, &c. pitty me, (cried he) ye lovers, each one; willow, &c. The salt tears fell from him, which drowned his face : willow, &c. 25 Sing, the greene willow, &c. The mute birds sate by him, made tame by his mones ; willow, &c. The salt tears fell from him, which softened the stones. willow, &c. 30 Sing, the greene willow, &c. Let nobody blame me, her scornes I do prove; willow, &c. She was borne to be faire ; I, to die for her love. willow, &c. 35 Sing, the greene willow, &c. that beauty should harbour a heart that's so hard ! Sing willow, &c. My true love rejecting without all regard. willow, &c. 40 Sing, the greene willow, &c. Let love no more boast him in palace or bower ; willow, &c. For women are trothles, and flote in an houre. willow, &c. 45 Sing, the greene willow, &c. But what helps complaining? In vaine I complaine : willow, &c. WILLOW, WILLOW, WILLOW. 121 I must patiently suffer her scorne and dis- daine. 50 willow, &c. Sing, the greene willow, &c. Come, all you forsaken, and sit down by me, willow, &c. He that 'plaines of his false love, mine's falser than she. willow, &c. 55 Sing, the greene willow, &c. The willow wreath weare I, since my love did fleet ; willow, &c. A garland for lovers forsaken most meete. willow, &c. Sing, the greene willow shall be my gar- land! PART THE SECOND. Lowe lay'd by my sorrow, begot by disdaine; willow, willow, willow ! Against her to cruell, still still I complaine, willow, willow, willow ! willow, willow, willow ! 5 Sing, the greene willow shall be my gar- land! love too injurious, to wound my poore heart ! willow, &c. To suffer the triumph, and joy in my smart ; willow, &c. 10 Sing, the greene willow, &e. willow, willow, willow ! the willow garland, willow, &c. A sign of her falsenesse before me doth stand : willow, &c. 15 Sing, the greene willow, &c. As here it doth bid to despair and to dye, willow, &c. So hang it, friends, ore me in grave where I lye: willow, &c. 20 Sing, the greene willow shall be my gar- land. In grave where I rest mee, hang this to the view, willow, &c. Of all that doe knowe her, to blaze her untrue. willow, &c. 25 Sing, the greene willow, &c. With these words engraven, as epitaph meet, willow, &c. " Here lyes one, drank poyson for potion most sweet." willow, &c. 30 Sing, the greene willow, &c. Though she thus unkindly hath scorned my love, willow, &c. And carelessly smiles at the sorrowes I prove ; willow, &c. 35 Sing, the greene willow, &c. I cannot against her unkindly exclaim, willow, &c. Cause once well I loved her, and honoured her name: willow, &c. 40 Sing, O the greene willow, &c. The name of her sounded so sweete in mine eare, O willow, &c. It rays'd my heart lightly, the name of my deare ; O willow, &c. 45 Sing, O the greene willow shall be my gar- land. As then 'twas my comfort, it now is my griefe ; O willow, &c. It now brings me anguish ; then brought me . reliefe. O willow, &c. 50 Sing, O the greene willow, &c. Farewell, faire false hearted: plaints end with my breath ! O willow, willow, willow ! Thou dost loath me, I love thee, though cause of my death. O willow, willow, willow ! O willow, willow, willow ! Sing, O the greene willow shall be my gar- land. 16 122 SIR LANCELOT DU LAKE. XI. Sir fmutht U fafu. This ballad is quoted in Shakspeare's second part of Henry IV., act ii. The sub- ject of it is taken from the ancient romance of King Arthur (commonly called Morte Arthur), being a poetical translation of chap, eviii., cix., ex., in part 1st, as they stand in ed. 1G34, 4to. In the older editions the chap- ters are differently numbered. — This song is given from a printed copy, corrected in part by a fragment in the editor's folio MS. In the same play of 2 Henry IV., Silence hums a scrap of one of the old ballads of Robin Hood. It is taken from the following stanza of " Robin Hood and the Pindar of Wakefield :"— All this beheard three wighty yeomen, Twas Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John : "With that they espy'd the jolly Pindar As he sate under a throne. That ballad may be found on every stall, and therefore is not here reprinted. When" Arthur first in court began, And was approved king, By force of armes great victory s wanne, And conquest home did bring. Then into England straight he came 5 With fifty good and able Knights, that resorted unto him, And were of his round table : And he had justs and turnaments, Wherto were many prest, 10 Wherein some knights did far excell And eke surmount the rest. But one Sir Lancelot du Lake, Who was approved well, He for his deeds and feats of armes 15 All others did excell. When he had rested him a while, In play, and game, and sportt, V. 18, to sportt, MS. He said he wold goe prove himselfe In some adventurous sort. He armed rode in a forrest wide, And met a damsell faire, Who told him of adventures great, Wherto he gave great eare. 20 25 Such wold I find, quoth Lancelott : For that cause came I hither. Thou seemst, quoth shee, a knight full good, And I will bring thee thither. Wheras a mighty knight doth dwell, That now is of great fame : 30 Therfore tell me what wight thou art, And what may be thy name. " My name is Lancelot du Lake." Quoth she, it likes me than : Here dwells a knight who never was 35 Yet matcht with any man:. Who has in prison threescore knights And four, that he did wound ; Knights of King Arthurs court they be, And of his table round. 40 She brought him to a river side, And also to a tree, Whereon a copper bason hung, And many shields to see. He struck soe hard, the bason broke ; 45 And Tarquin soon he spyed : Who drove a horse before him fast, Whereon a knight lay tyed. Sir knight, then sayd Sir Lancelott, Bring me that horse-load hither, 59 And lay him downe, and let him rest ; Weel try our force together : For, as I understand, thou hast, Soe far as thou art able, V. 29. Where is often read by our old writers for whereaMf here it is just the contrary. SIR LANCELOT DU LAKE. 123 Done great despite and shame unto 55 The knights of the Round Table. If thou be of the Table Round, Quoth Tarquin speedilye, Both thee and all thy fellowship I utterly defye. 60 That's over much, quoth Lancelott tho, Defend thee by and by. They sett their speares unto their steeds, And eache att other flie. They coucht theire speares (their horses ran, As though there had beene thunder), 66 And strucke them each immidst their shields, Wherewith they broke in sunder. Their horsses backes brake under them, The knights were both astound : To avoyd their horsses they made haste And light upon the ground. 70 They tooke them to their shields full fast, They swords they drew out than, With mighty strokes most eagerlye 75 Each at the other ran. They wounded were, and bled full sore, They both for breath did stand, And leaning on their swords awhile, Quoth Tarquine, Hold thy hand, 80 And tell to me what I shall aske, Say on, quoth Lancelot tho. Thou art, quoth Tarquine, the best knight That ever I did know ; And like a knight that I did hate : 85 Soe that thou be not hee, I will deliver all the rest, And eke accord with thee. That is well said, quoth Lancelott ; But sith it must be soe, 90 What knight is that thou hatest thus? I pray thee to me show. His name is Launcelot du Lake, He slew my brother deere ; Him I suspect of all the rest : I would I had him here. 95 Thy wish thou hast, but yet unknowne, I am Lancelot du Lake, Now knight of Arthurs Table Round ; King Hauds son of Schuwake ; 100 And I desire thee to do thy worst. Ho, ho, quoth Tarqin tho, One of us two shall end our lives Before that we do go. If thou be Lancelot du Lake, 105 Then welcome shalt thou bee : Wberfore see thou thyself defend, For now defye I thee. They buckled then together so, Like unto wild boares rashing :* 1 10 And with their swords and shields they ran At one another slashing : The ground besprinkled was wyth blood: Tarquin began to yield ; For he gave backe for wearmesse, 115 And lowe did beare his shield. This soone Sir Lancelot espyde, He leapt upon him then, He pull'd him downe upon his knee, And rushing off his helm, 120 Forthwith he strucke his necke in two, And, when he had soe done, From prison threescore knights and four Delivered everye one. * Rashing ,seems to be the old hunting term to express the stroke made by the wild-boar with his fangs. To rase has apparently a meaning something similar. See Mr, Steevens's Note on K. Lear, act. iii. sc. 7 (ed. 1793, vol. xiv p. 193), where the quartos read, " Nor thy fierce sister In his anointed flesh rash boarish fangs." So in K. Richard III, act iii., sc. 2 (vol. x. p. 567, 583). " He dreamt To night the Boar had rased off hli helm." 124 GERNUTUS THE JEW OF VENICE. X. (feBton'fl imMl to f pits, — is an attempt to paint a lover's irresolution, but so poorly executed, that it would not have been admitted into this collection, if it had not been quoted in Shakspeare's Twelfth- Night, act ii. sc. 3. — It is found in a little ancient miscellany, entitled " The Golden Garland of Princely Delights," 12mo. bl. let. In the same scene of the Twelfth-Night, Sir Toby sings a scrap of an old ballad, which is preserved in the Pepys collection, [vol. i. pp. 33, 496.] ; but as it is not only a poor dull performance, but also very long, it will be sufficient here to give the first stanza : The Ballad of Constant Susanna. There dwelt a man in Babylon Of reputation great by fame ; He took to wife a faire woman, Susanna she was callde by name : A woman fair and vertuous ; Lady, lady : Why should we not of her learn thus To live godly ? If this song of Corydon, &c, has not more merit, it is at least an evil of less magnitude. Farewell, dear love ; since thou wilt needs be gone, Mine eyes do shew, my life is almost done. Nay I will never die, so long as I can spie There be many mo, though that she doe goe, There be many mo, I fear not : 5 Why then let her goe, I care not. Farewell, farewell ; since this I find is true I will not spend more time in wooing you : But I will seek elsewhere, if I may find love there : Shall I bid her goe ? what and if I doe ? Shall I bid her goe and spare not ? 11 no, no, no, I dare not. Ten thousand times farewell ; — yet stay a while : — Sweet, kiss me once ; sweet kisses time be- guile : I have no power to move. How now am I in love ? 15 Wilt thou needs be gone? Go then, all is one. Wilt thou needs be gone? Oh, hie thee! Nay stay, and do no more deny me. Once more adieu. I see loath to depart 19 Bids oft adieu to her, that holds my heart. But seeing I must lose thy love, which I did choose, Goe thy way for me, since that may not be, Goe thy ways for me. But whither ? Goe, oh, but where I may come thither. What shall I doe ? my love is now departed. She is fair, as she is cruel-hearted. 26 She would not be intreated, with prayers oft repeated, If she come no more, shall I die therefore? If she come no more, what care I ? Faith, let her goe, or come, or tarry. 30 XI. §mmim tire %m af Mitt In the " Life of Pope Sixtus V., translated from the Italian of Greg. Leti, by the Rev. Mr. Farneworth, folio," is a remarkable pas- sage to the following effect. " It was reported in Rome, that Drake had taken and plundered St. Domingo in Hispan- iola, and carried off an immense booty. This account came in a private letter to Paul Sec- chi, a very considerable merchant in the city, who had large concerns in those parts, which GERNUTUS THE JEW OF VENICE. 125 he had insured. Upon receiving this news, he sent for the insurer Sampson Ceneda, a Jew, and acquainted him with it. The Jew, whose interest it was to have such a report thought false, gave many reasons why it could not possibly be true, and at last worked himself into such a passion, that he said, I'll lay you a pound of flesh it is a lye. Secchi, who was of a fiery hot temper, replied, I'll lay you a thousand crowns against a pound of your flesh that it is true. The Jew ac- cepted the wager, and articles were immedi- ately executed betwixt them, that, if Secchi won, he should himself cut the flesh with a sharp knife from whatever part of the Jew's body he pleased. The truth of the account was soon confirmed ; and the Jew was almost distracted, when he was informed, that Secchi had solemnly swore he would compel him to an exact performance of his contract. A re- port of this transaction was brought to the Pope, who sent for the parties, and, being in- formed of the whole affair, said, "when con- tracts are made, it is but just they should be fulfilled, as this shall : take a knife, therefore, Secchi, and cut a pound of flesh from any part you please of the Jew's body. "We ad- vise you, however, to be very careful ; for, if you cut but a scruple more or less than your due, you shall certainly be hanged." The editor of that book is of opinion, that the scene between Shylock and Antonio in the "Merchant of Venice" is taken from this incident. But Mr. Warton, in his ingenious " Observations on the Faerie Queen, vol. i. page 128," has referred it to the following ballad. Mr. Warton thinks this ballad was written before Shakspeare's play, as being not so circumstantial, and having more of the nakedness of an original. Besides, it differs from the play in many circumstances, which a mere copyist, such as we may suppose the ballad-maker to be, would hardly have given himself the trouble to alter. Indeed he ex- pressly informs us, that he had his story from the Italian writers. See the " Connoisseur," vol. i. No 16. After all, one would be glad to know what authority " Leti" had for the foregoing fact, or at least for connecting it with the taking of St. Domingo by Drake ; for this expedition did not happen till 1585, and it is very cer- tain that a play of the " Jewe, representing the greedinesse of worldly chusers, and bloody minds of usurers," had been exhibit- ed at the play-house called the " Bull," before the year 1579, being mentioned in Steph. Gosson's " Schoole of Abuse,"* which was printed in that year. As for Shakspeare's " Merchant of Ven- ice," the earliest edition known of it is in quarto, 1600 ; though it had been exhibited in the year 1598, being mentioned, together with eleven others of his plays, in Meres's "Wits Treasury," &c. 1598, 12mo. fol. 282. See Malone's Shaksp. The following is printed from an ancient black-letter copy in the Pepys collection,! en- titled, " A new Song, shewing the crueltie of ' Gernutus, a Jewe,' who, lending to a mer- chant an hundred crowns, would have a pound of his fleshe, because he could not pay him at the time appointed. To the tune of Black and Yellow." THE FIRST PART. In Venice towne not long agoe A cruel Jew did dwell, Which lived all on usurie As Italian writers tell. Gernutus called was the Jew, 5 Which never thought to dye, Nor ever yet did any good To them in streets that lie. His life was like a barrow hogge, That liveth many a day, 10 Yet never once doth any good, Until men will him slay. Or like a filthy heap of dung, That lyeth in a whoard ; Which never can do any good, 15 Till it be spread abroad. So fares it with the usurer, He cannot sleep in rest, For feare the thiefe will him pursue To plucke him from his nest. 20 His heart doth thinke on many a wile, How to deceive the poore ; His mouth is almost ful of rnuike, Yet still he gapes for more. * Warton, ubi supra. f Compared with the Ashmole Copy. L26 GERNUTUS THE JEW OF VENICE. His wife must lend a shilling, 25 For every weeke a penny, Yet bring a pledge, that is double worth, If that you will have any. And see, likewise, you keepe your day, Or else you loose it all : 30 This was the living of the wife, Her cow she did it call. Within that citie dwelt that time A marchant of great fame, Which being distressed in his need, Unto Gernutus came : 35 Desiring him to stand his friend For twelve month and a day, To lend to him an hundred crownes : And he for it would pay 40 Whatsoever he would demand of him, And pledges he should have. No, (quoth the Jew with Searing lookes,) Sir, aske what you will have. No penny for the loane of it 45 For one year you shall pay You may doe me as good a turne, Before my dying day. But we will have a merry jeast, For to be talked long : 50 You shall make me a bond, quoth he, That shall be large and strong : And this shall be the forfeyture ; Of your owne fleshe a pound. If you agree, make you the bond, 55 And here is a hundred crownes. With right good will! the marchant he says: And so the bond was made. When twelve month and a day drew on That backe it should be payd. 60 The marchants ships were all at sea, And money came not in ; W T hich way to take, or what to doe To thinke he doth begin : V. 32, Cow, &c, seems to have suggested to Shakspeare Shylock's argument for "usury taken from Jacob's manage- ment of Laban's 'sheep, act i.. to which Antonio replies: "Was this inserted to make interest good? Or are your gold and silver ewes and rams? "Shy. I cannot tell. I make it breed as fast." And to Gernutus strait he comes G5 With cap and bended knee, And sayde to him, Of curtesie I pray you beare with mee. My day is come, and I have not The money for to pay : 70 And little good the forfeyture Will doe you, I dare say. With all my heart, Gernutus sayd, Commaund it to your minde : In thinges of bigger waight then this 75 You shall me ready finde. He goes his way ; the day once past Gernutus doth not slacke To get a sergiant presently ; And clapt him on the backe : 80 And layd him into prison strong, And sued his bond withall ; And when the judgement day was come, For judgement he did call. The marchants friends came thither fast With many a weeping eye, 86 For other means they could not find, But he that day must dye. THE SECOND PART. " Of the Jews crueltie ; setting foorth the mercifulnesse of the Judge towards the Mar« chant. To the tune of Blacke and Yellow." Some offered for his hundred crownes Five hundred for to pay ; And some a thousand, two or three, Yet still he did denay. And at the last ten thousand crownes 5 They offered, him to save. Gernutus sayd, I will no gold: My forfeite I will have. A pound of fleshe is my demand, And that shall be my hire. 10 Then sayd the judge, Yet, good my friend, Let me of you desire To take the flesh from such a place, As yet you let him live: Do so, and lo ! an hundred crownes 15 To thee here will I give. GERNUTUS THE JEW OF VENICE. 127 No : no : quoth he ; no : judgement here : For this it shall be tride, For I will have my pound of ffeshe From under his right side. 20 Tt grieved all the companie His crueltie to see, For neither friend nor foe could helpe But he must spoyled bee. The bloudie Jew now ready is 25 With whetted blade in hand,* To spoyle the bloud of innocent, By forfeit of his bond. And as he was about to strike In him the deadly blow : 30 Stay (quoth the judge) thy crueltie ; I charge thee to do so. Sith needs thou wilt thy forfeit have, Which is of flesh a pound : See that thou shed no drop of bloud, 35 Nor yet the man confound. For if thou doe, like murderer Thou here shalt hanged be: Likewise of flesh see that thou cut No more than longes to thee : 40 For if thou take either more or lesse To the value of a mite, Thou shalt be hanged presently, As is both law and right. Gernutus now waxt franticke mad, 45 And wotes not what to say ; Quoth he at last, Ten thousand crownes I will that he shall pay ; And so I graunt to set him free. The judge doth answere make ; 50 You shall not have a penny given ; Your forfeyture now take. At the last he doth demaund But for to have his owne. No, quoth the judge, doe as you list, 55 Thy judgement shall be showne. * The passage in Shakspeare bears so strong a resem- blance to this, as to render it probable that the one suggested the other. See act iv. sc. 2. ''Bass. Wliy dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly? &c." 17 Either take your pound of flesh, quoth he, Or cancell me your bond. cruell judge, then quoth the Jew, That doth against me stand ! 60 And so with griping grieved mind He biddeth them fare-well. ' Then' all the people prays'd the Lord, That ever this heard tell. Good people, that doe heare this song, 65 For trueth I dare well say, That many a wretch as ill as hee Doth live now at this day ; That seeketh nothing but the spoyle Of many a wealthy man, 70 And for to trap the innocent Deviseth what they can. From whome the Lord deliver me, And every Christian too, And send* to them like sentence eke 75 That meaneth so to do. *#* Since the first edition of this book was printed, the Editor hath had reason to believe that both Shakspeare and the Author of this ballad are indebted for their story of the Jew (however they came by it) to an Italian Novel, which was first printed at Milan in the year 1554, in a book entitled, II pecorone, net quale si contengono Cinquanta Novelle aniiche, &c, republished at Florence about the year 1748, or 9. — The Author was Ser. Giovanni Fiorentino, who wrote in 1378 ; thirty years after the time in which the scene of Boccace's Decameron is laid. (Vid. Manni Istoria del Decameron di Giov. Boccac. 4to. Fior. 1744. That Shakspeare had his plot from the Novel itself, is evident from his having some incidents from it, which are not found in the ballad : and I think it will also be found that he borrowed from the ballad some hints that were not suggested by the novel. (See above, pt. 2, ver. 25, &c, where, instead of that spi- rited description of the whetted blade, &c, the Prose Narrative coldly says. "The Jew had prepared a razor," &c. See also some other passages in the same piece.) This however is spoken with diffidence, as I have at present before me only the abridgment of the novel which Mr.. Johnson has given us at the end "V. 61, griped, Ashmol. copy. 128 THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE. of his commentary on Shakspeare's play. The translation of the Italian story at large is not easy to be met with, having I believe never been published, though it was printed some years ago with this title, " The Novel, from which the Merchant of Venice, written by Shakspeare. is taken, translated from the Italian. To which is added, a translation of a novel from the Decamerone of Boccacio, London, Printed for M. Cooper, 1755, 8vo." XII. II]e |a$si0itate Slpjftwfc t0 (ps f ak. This beautiful sonnet is quoted in the Merry Wives of Windsor, act iii. sc. 1, and hath been usually ascribed (together with the re- ply) to Shakspeare himself by the modern editors of his smaller poems. A copy of this madrigal, containing only four stanzas (the 4th and 6th being wanting), accompanied with the first stanza of the answer, being printed in "The Passionate Pilgrime, and Sonnets to sundry Notes of Musicke, by Mr. William Shakspeare, Lond. printed for W. Jaggard, 1599." Thus was this sonnet, &c, published as Shakspeare's in his lifetime. And yet there is good reason to believe that (not Shakspeare, but) Christopher Mar- low wrote the song, and Sir Walter Raleigh the "Nymph's Reply:" for so we are posi- tively assured by Isaac Walton, a writer of some credit, who has inserted them both in his Compleat Angler,* under the character of " that smooth song, which was made by Kit Marlow, now at least fifty years ago; and .... an Answer to it, which was made by Sir Walter Raleigh in his younger days. . . . Old fashioned poetry, but choicely good."— It also passed for Marlow's in the opinion of his contemporaries ; for in the old poetical miscellany, entitled, " England's Helicon," it is printed with the name of Chr. Marlow subjoined to it; and the reply is signed Ignoto, which is known to have been a signature of Sir Walter Raleigh. With the same signa- ture Ignoto, in that collection, is an imitation of Marlow's beginning thus : " Come live with me, and be my dear, And we will revel all the year, In plains and groves," &c. * First printed in the year 1653, but probably written -some time before. Upon the whole I am inclined to attribute them to Marlow, and Raleigh ; notwithstand- ing the authority of Shakspeare's Book of Sonnets. For it is well knoAvn that as be took no care of his own compositions, so was he utterly regardless what spurious things were fathered upon him. Sir John Oldcastle, the London Prodigal, and the Yorkshire Tragedy, were printed with his name at full length in the title-pages, while he was living, which yet were afterwards rejected by his first editors Heminge and Condell, who were his intimate friends (as he mentions both in his will), and therefore no doubt had good authority for setting them aside.* The following sonnet appears to have been (as it deserved) a great favourite with our earlier poets: for, besides the imitation above mentioned, another is to be found among Donne's Poems, entitled, " The Bait," begin ning thus : " Come live with me, and be my love, And we will some new pleasures prove Of golden sands, &c." As for Chr. Marlow, who was in high re- pute for his dramatic writings, he lost his life by a stab received in a brothel, before the year 1593. See A. Wood, i. 138. Come live with me, and be my love, And we wil all the pleasures prove That hils and vallies, dale and field, And all the craggy mountains yield. * Since the above was written. Mr. Maloue, with his usual discernment, hath rejected the stanzas in question from th6 other sonnets, &c, of Shakspeare. in his correct editioD of the Passionate Pilgrim, &c. See his Shaksp. vol. x. p. 340. TITUS ANDRONICUS'S COMPLAINT. 129 There will we sit upon the rocks, 5 And see the shepherds feed their flocks, By shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals. There will I make thee beds of roses With a thousand fragrant posies, 10 A cap of flowers, and a kirtle Imbrodered all with leaves of mirtle ; A gown made of the finest wool, Which from our pretty lambs we pull ; Slippers lin'd choicely for the cold ; 15 With buckles of the purest gold ; A belt of straw, and ivie buds, With coral clasps and amber studs : And if these pleasures may thee move, Then live with me, and be my love. 20 The shepherd swains shall dance and sing For thy delight each May morning ; If these delights thy mind may move. Then live with me and be my love. The Nymph's Reply. If that the World and Love were young, And truth in every shepherd's toung, These pretty pleasures might me move To live with thee, and be thy love. But time drives flocks from field to fold, 5 When rivers rage, and rocks grow cold, And Philomel becometh dumb, And all complain of cares to come. The flowers do fade, and wanton fields To wayward winter reckoning yield : 10 A honey tongue, a heart of gall, Is fancies spring, but sorrows fall. Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten, In folly ripe, in reason rotten 16 Thy belt of straw, and ivie buds, Thy coral clasps, and amber studs ; All these in me no means can move To come to thee, and be thy love. 20 But could youth last, and love still breed, Had joyes no date, nor age no need ; Then those delights my mind might move To live with thee, and be my love. XIII. tte Jtotottinra's ftmjMni The reader has here an ancient ballad on the same subject as the play of " Titus Andro- nicus," and it is probable that the one was borrowed from the other: but which of them was the original, it is not easy to decide. And yet, if the argument offered above in page 125, for the priority of the ballad of the Jew of Venice may be admitted, somewhat of the same kind may be urged here ; ftfr this ballad differs from the play in several particulars, which a simple ballad-writer would be less likely to alter than an inven- tive tragedian. Thus, in the ballad, is no mention of the contest for the empire between the* two brothers, the composing of which makes the ungrateful treatment of Titus afterwards the more flagrant : neither is there any notice taken of his sacrificing one of Tamora's sons, which the tragic poet has assigned as the original cause of all her cruelties. In the play, Titus loses twenty- one of his sons in war, and kills another for assisting Bassianus to carry off Lavinia; the reader will find it different in the ballad. In the latter she is betrothed to the emperor's son. in the play to his brother. In the tragedy, only two of his sons fall into the pit, and the third, being banished, returns to Rome with a victorious army, to avenge the wrongs of his house: in the ballad, all three are en trapped and suffer death. In the scene, the emperor kills Titus, and is in return stabbed '30 TITUS ANDRONICUS'S COMPLAINT. by Titus's surviving son. Here Titus kills the emperor, and afterwards himself. Let the reader weigh these circumstances, and some others, wherein he will find them unlike, and then pronounce for himself. — After all, there is reason to conclude that this play was rather improved by Shakspeare, with a few fine touches of his pen, than ori- ginally written by him ; for, not to mention that the style is less figurative than his others generally are, this tragedy is mentioned with discredit in the Induction to Ben Jonson's " Bartholomew Fair, in 1614," as one that had then been exhibited " five-and-twenty or thirty years :" which, if we take the lowest number, throws it back to the year 1580, at which time Shakspeare was but 25 ; an earlier date than can be found for any other of his p ; .eces :* and if it does not clear him entirely of it, shows at least it was a first attempt.f The following is given from a copy in " The Golden Garland," entitled as above ; com- pared with three others, two of them in black letter in the Pepys collection, entitled " The Lamentable and Tragical History of Titus Andronicus," &c. " to the Tune of Fortune/' printed for E. Wright. Unluckily, none of these have any dates. You noble minds, and famous martiall wights, That in defence of native country fights, Give eare to me, that ten yeeres fought for Rome, Yet reapt disgrace at my returning home. In Rome I lived in fame fulle threescore yeeres, 5 My name beloved was of all my peeres ; Fulle five-and-twenty valiant sonnes I had, Whose forwarde vertues made their father glad. For when Romes foes their -warlike forces bent, Against them stille my sonnes and I were sent; 10 * Mr. Malone thinks 1591 to be the sera when our author commenced a Titer for the stage. See in his Shaksp. the ingenious " Attempt to ascertain the order in which the plays of Shakspeare were written." t Since the above was written, Shakspeare's memory has been fully vindicated from the charge of writing the above play by the best critics. See what has been urged by Steevens and Malone in their excellent editions of Shakspeare, ftc. Against the Goths full ten yeares weary warre We spent, receiving many a bloudy scarre. Just two-and-twenty of my sonnes were slaine Before we did returne to Rome againe: Of five-and-twenty sonnes, I brought but three 15 Alive, the stately towers of Rome to see. When wars were done, I conquest home did bring And did present my prisoners to the king, The queene of Goths, her sons, and eke a . Moore, 19 Which did such murders, like was nere before. The emperour did make this queene his wife. Which bred in Rome debate and deadly strife ; The Moore, with her two sonnes did growe soe proud, That none like them in Rome might beallowd. The Moore soe pleas'dthis new-made empress', eie, 25 That she consented to him secretlye For to abuse her husbands marriage bed, And soe in time a Blackamore she bred. Then she, whose thoughts to murder were inclinde, 29 Consented with the Moore of bloody minde Against myselfe, my kin, and all my friendes, In cruell sort to bring them to their endes. Soe when in age I thought to live in peace, Both care and griefe began then to increase : Amongst my sonnes I had one daughter brighte, 35 Which joy'd, and pleased best my aged sight ; My deare Lavinia was betrothed than To Cesars sonne, a young and noble man : Who, in a hunting by the emperours wife, And her two sonnes, bereaved was of life. He being slaine, was cast in cruel wise, 41 Into a darksome den from light of skies: The cruell Moore did come that way as then With my three sonnes, who fell into the den. The Moore then fetcht the emperour with speed, 45 For to accuse them of that murderous deed. TITUS ANDRONICUS'S COMPLAINT. 131 And when my sonnes within the den were found, In wrongfull prison they were cast and bound. But nowe, behold ! what wounded most my mind, The empresses two sonnes of savage kind 50 My daughter ravished without remorse, And took away her honour, quite perforce. "When they had tasted of soe sweete a flowre, Fearing this sweete should shortly turne to sowre, They cutt her tongue, whereby she could not tell 55 How that dishonoure unto her befell. Then both her hands they basely cutt off quite. Whereby their wickednesse she could not write ; Nor with her needle on her sampler sowe The bloudye workers of her direfull woe. 60 My brother Marcus found her in the wood, Staining the grassie ground with purple bloud, That trickled from her stumpes, and bloud- lesse amies : Noe tongue at all she had to tell her harmes. But when I sawe her in that woefull case, 65 With teares of bloud I wet mine aged face : For my Lavinia I lamented more Then for my two-and-twenty sonnes before. When as I sawe she could not write nor speake, 69 With grief mine aged heart began to breake ; We spred an heape of sand upon the ground, Whereby those bloudy tyrants out we found. For with a staffe, without the helpe of hand, She writt these wordes upon the plat of sand: " The lustfull sonnes of the proud emperesse Are doers of this hateful wickednesse/' 76 I tore the milk-white hairs from off mine head, I curst the houre, wherein I first was bred, I wishtthis hand, that fought for countrie's fame, In cradle rockt, had first been stroken lame. The Moore delighting still in villainy 81 Did say, to sett my sonnes from prison free I should unto the king my right hand give, And then my three imprisoned sonnes should live. The Moore I caus'd to strike it off with speede, Whereat I grieved not to see it bleed, 86 But for my sonnes would willingly impart, And for their ransome send my bleeding heart. But as my life did linger thus in paine, 89 They sent to me my bootlesse hand againe, And therewithal the heades of my three sonnes, Which filled my dying heart with fresher moanes. Then past reliefe, I upp and downe did goe, And with my tears writ in the dust my woe: I shot my arrowes* towards heaven hie 95 And for revenge to hell did often crye. The empresse then, thinking that I was mad, Like Furies she and both her sonnes were clad, (She nam'd Revenge, and Rape and murder they) _ 99 To undermine and heare what I would say. I fed their foolish veinesf a certaine space, Untill my friendes did find a secret place, Where both her sonnes unto a post were bound, And just revenge in cruell sort was found. I cut their throates, my daughter held the pan 105 Betwixt her stumpes, wherein the bloud it ran : And then I ground their bones to powder small, And made a paste for pyes streight there- withall. Then with their fleshe I made two mighty pyes, 109 And at a banquet served in stately wise. * If the ballad was written before the play, I should sup- pose this to be only a metaphorical expression, taken from that in the Psalms, " They shoot out their arrows, even bitter words." Ps. 64. 3. f i. e. encouraged them in their foolish humours, or fancies. 132 KING LEIR AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS. Before the empresse set this loathsome meat ; So of her sonnes own flesh she well did eat. Myselfe bereavM my daughter then of life, The empresse then I slewe with bloudy knife, And stabb'd the emperour immediatelie, 115 And then myself: even so did Titus die. Then this revenge against the Moore wag found, Alive they sett him halfe in the ground, Whereas he stood untill such time he starv'd. And soe God send all murderers may be serv'd. 120 XIV. Me i\m Pgs atoaj. The first stanza of this little sonnet, which an eminent critic* justly admires for its ex- treme sweetness, is found in Shakspeare's " Measure for Measure/' act iv. sc. 1. Both the stanzas are preserved in Beaumont and Fletcher's " Bloody Brother," act v. sc. 2. Sewel and Gildon have printed it among Shakspeare's smaller poems : but they have done the same by twenty other pieces that were never writ by him, their book being a wretched heap of inaccuracies and mistakes. It is not found in Jaggard's old edition of Shakspeare's " Passionate Pilgrim, f &c. Take, oh take those lips away, That so sweetlye were forsworne ; And those eyes, the breake of day, Lights, that do misleade the morne: But my kisses bring againe, Seales of love, but seal'd in vaine. Hide, oh hide those hills of snowe, Which thy frozen bosom beares, On whose tops the pinkes that growe Are of those that April wears ; But first set my poor heart free, Bound in those icy chains by thee. 10 XY. Praj f eir auto \l$ i|m pugMenL The reader has here an ancient ballad on the subject of King Lear, which (as a sensi- ble female critic has well observed)! bears so exact an analogy to the argument of Shaks- peare's play, that his having copied it could not be doubted, if it were certain that it was written before the tragedy. Here is found the hint of Lear's madness, which the old chronicles \ do not mention, as also the ex- * Dr. Warburton in his Shakesp. f Mr. Malone in his improved edition of Shakspeare's 80NNET8, &c. hath substituted this instead of Marlow's Madrigal, printed above; for which he hath assigned reasons which the reader may see in his vol. x. p. 340. % Mrs. Lenox. Shakespeare illustrated, vol. iii. p. 302. \ See Jeffery of Monmouth. Holingshed, &c, who relate l>- III. %\}t Rising in t\t Ifari^ The subject of this ballad is the great Northern Insurrection in the 12th year of Eli- zabeth, 1569 ; which proved so fatal to Thomas Percy, the seventh Earl of Northumberland. There had not long before been a secret negotiation entered into between some of the Scottish and English nobility, to bring about a marriage between Mary Queen of Scots, at that time a prisoner in England, and the Duke of Norfolk, a nobleman of excellent character, and firmly attached to the Protest- ant religion. This match was proposed to all the most considerable considerable of the English nobility, and among the rest to the Earls of Northumberland and Westmoreland, two noblemen very powerful in the north. As it seemed to promise a speedy and safe conclusion of the troubles in Scotland, with many advantages to the crown of England, they all consented to it, provided it should prove agreeable to Queen Elizabeth. The Earl of Leicester (Elizabeth's favourite) un- dertook to break the matter to her ; but before he could find an opportunity, the affair had come to her ears by other hands, and she was thrown into a violent flame. The Duke of Norfolk, with several of his friends, was com- mitted to the Tower, and summons were sent to the northern earls instantly to make their appearance at court. It is said that the Earl of Northumberland, who was a man of a mild and gentle nature, was deliberating^ with him- self whether he should not obey the message, and rely upon the queen's candour and clem- ency, when he was forced into desperate measures by a sudden report at midnight, Nov. 14, that a party of his enemies were come to seize on his person.* The earl was then at his house at Topcliffe in Yorkshire. When rising hastily out of bed, he withdrew to the Earl of Westmoreland, at Brancepeth, where the country came in to them, and press- ed them to take arms in their own defence. They accordingly set up their standards, de- claring their intent was to restore the ancient religion, to get the succession of the crown firmly settled, and to prevent the destruction of the ancient nobility, &c. Their common bannerf (on which was displayed the cross, together with the five wounds of Christ), was borne by an ancient gentleman, Richard Nor- ton, Esq., of Norton-conyers : who with his sons (among whom, Christopher, Marma- duke, and Thomas, are expressly named by Camden], distinguished himself on this occa- sion. Having entered Durham, they tore the Bible, &c, and caused mass to be said there : they then marched on to Clifford Moor near Wetherbye, where they mustered their men. Their intention was to have proceeded on to York ; but, altering their minds, they fell * This circumstance is OTerlooked in the ballad, f Besides this, the ballad mentions the separate banners of the two noblemen. THE RISING IN THE NORTH. 147 apon Barnard's castle, which Sir George Bowes held out against them for eleven days. The two earls, who spent their large estates in hospitality, and were extremely beloved on that account, were masters of little ready- money, the Earl of Northumberland bringing with him only 8000 crowns, and the Earl of Westmoreland nothing at all for the subsist- ence of their forces, they were not able to march to London, as they had at first intended. In those circumstances, Westmoreland began so visibly to despond, that many of his men slunk away, though Northumberland still kept up his resolution, and was master of the field till December 13, when the Earl of Susses, accompanied with Lord Hunsden and others, having marched out of York at the head of a large body of forces, and being fol- lowed by a still larger army under the com- mand of Ambrose Dudley, Earl of Warwick, the insurgents retreated northward towards the borders, and there dismissing their fol- lowers, made their escape into Scotland. Though this insurrection had been suppress- ed with so little bloodshed, the Earl of Sussex and Sir George Bowes marshal of the army put vast numbers to death by martial law, without any regular trial. The former of these caused at Durham sixty-three constables to be hanged at once. And the latter made his boast, that, for sixty miles in length, and forty in breadth, betwixt Newcastle and Wetherby, there was hardly a town or village wherein he had not executed some of the in- habitants. This exceeds the cruelties prac-. tised in the west after Monmouth's rebellion: but that was not the age of tenderness and humanity. Such is the account collected from Stow, Speed, Camden, Guthrie, Carte, and Rapin ; it agrees in most particulars with the follow- ing ballad, which was apparently the produc- tion of some northern minstrel, who was well affected to the two noblemen. It is here printed from two MS. copies, one of them in the Editor's folio collection. They contained considerable variations, out of which such readings were chosen as seemed most poetical and consonant to history. Listex, lively lordings all. Lithe and listen unto mee, And I will sing of a noble earle, The noblest earle in the north countrle. Earle Percy is into his garden gone, 5 And after him walkes his faire ladle:* I heard a bird sing in mine eare, That I must either fight, or flee. Now heaven forefend, my dearest lord, That ever such harm should hap to thee : But goe to London to the court, 1 1 And faire fall truth and honestie. Now nay, now nay, my ladye gay, Alas ! thy counsell suits not mee ; Mine enemies prevail sO fast, 15 That at the court I may not bee. goe to the court yet, good my lord, And take thy gallant men with thee : If any dare to doe you wrong, Then your warrant they may bee. 20 Now nay, now nay, thou lady faire, The court is full of subtiltie ; And if I goe to the court, lady, Never more I may thee see. Yet goe to the court, my lord, she sayes, 25 And I myselfe will ride wi' thee : At court then for my dearest lord, His faithfull borrowe I will bee. Now nay, now nay, my lady deare ; For lever had I lose my life, Than leave among my cruell foes My love in jeopardy and strife. 30 But come thou hither my little foot-page, Come thou hither unto mee, To maister Norton thou must goe 35 In all the haste that ever may bee. Commend me to that gentleman, And beare this letter here fro mee And say that earnestly I praye, He will ryde in my companie. 40 One while the little foot-page went, And another while he ran ; Untill he came to his journeys end The little foot-page never blan. When to that gentleman he came, Down he kneeled on his knee : 45 * This lady was Anne, daughter of Henry Somerset Earl of Worcester. 148 THE RISING IN THE NORTH. And tooke the letter betwixt his hands, And lett the gentleman it see. And when the letter it was redd Affore that goodlye companye, I wis, if you the truthe wold know, There was many a weepynge eye. 50 He sayd. Come thither, Christopher Norton, A gallant youth thou seemst to bee ; What doest thou counsell me, my sonne, Now that good erle's in jeopardy ? 55 Father, my counselled fair and free ; That erle he is a noble lord, And whatsoever to him you hight, I wold not have you breake your word. 60 Gramercy, Christopher, my sonne, Thy counsell well it liketh mee, And if we speed and scape with life, Well advanced shalt thou bee. Come you hither, mine nine good sonnes, 65 Gallant men I trowe you bee : How many of you, my children deare, Will stand by that good erle and me ? Eight of them did answer make, Eight of them spake hastilie, father, till the daye we dye We'll stand by that good erle and thee. TO Gramercy now, my children deare, You showe yourselves right bold and brave; And whethersoe'er I live or dye, 75 A fathers blessing you shal have. But what sayst thou, Francis Norton, That art mine oldest sonn and heire : Somewhat lyes brooding in thy breast; Whatever it bee, to mee declare. 80 Father, you nre an aged man, Your head is white, your bearde is gray ; It were a shame at these your yeares For you to ryse in such a fray. Now fye upon thee, coward Francis, 85 Thou never learnedst this of mee: When thou wert yong and tender of age, Why did I m;ike soe much of thee? But, father. I will wend with you, Unarm'd and naked will I bee ; 90 And he that strikes against the crowne, Ever an ill death may he dee. Then rose that reverend gentleman, And with him came a goodlye band To join with the brave Erie Percy, 95 And all the flower o' Northumberland. With them the noble Nevill came, The erle of Westmorland was hee : At Wetherbye they mustred their host, Thirteen thousand faire to see. 100 Lord Westmorland his ancyent raisde, The Dun Bull he rays'cl on hye, And three Dogs with golden collars Were there sett out most royallye.* Erie Percy there his ancyent spred, 105 The Halfe-Moone shining all soe faire :f The Nortons anc}^ent had the crosse, And the five wounds our Lord did beare. * Yer. 102, Dun Bull, &c. The supporters of the Nevilles Earls of Westmoreland were Two Bulls Argent, ducally collared gold, armed Or. &c. But I hare not discovered the device mentioned in the hallad. among the hadges, &c, given hy that house. This however is certain, that, among those of the Nevilles. Lord Abergavenny (who were of the same family), is a dun cow with a golden collar; and the Nevilles of Chyte in Yorkshire (of the Westmorelaud branch), gave for their crest, in 1513, a dog's (greyhound's) head erased. — So that it is not improbable but Charles Neville, the unhappy Earl of Westmoreland here men- tioned, might on this occasion give the above device on his banner. — After all. our old minstrel's verses here may have undergone some corruption; for, in another ballad in the same folio MS., and apparently written by the same hand, containing the sequel of this Lord Westmoreland's history, his banner is thus described, more conformable to his known bearings : " Set me up my faire Dun Bull, With Gilden Homes, hee beares all soe hye." f Yer. 106. The Halfe-Moone, &c] The Silver Crescent is a well-known crest or badge of the Northumberland family. It was probably brought home from some of the crusades against the Sarazens. In an ancient pedigree in Terse, finely illuminated on a roll of vellum, and written in the reign of Henry VII. (in possession of the family), wo have this fabulous account given of iis original.— The author begins with accounting for the name of Gernon or Algernon, often borne by the Percins ; who, be says, were Gernons fyrst named Brutys blonde of Troy : Which valliantly fyghtynge in the land of Terse [Persia] At pointe terrible ayance the miscreants on nyght. An hevynly mystery was schewyd hym. old bookysreherse In bys scheld did schyne a Mone veryfying her lyght, Whych to all the ooste gave a perfytte fyght. To vaynquya his enemys, and to deth them persue: And therefore the Perses [Pereie*] the Crescent doth renew. In the dark ages no family was deemed considerable that did not derive its descent, from the Trojnn Brutus; or that was not distinguished by prodigies and miracles. NORTHUMBERLAND BETRAYED BY DOUGLAS. 149 Then Sir George Bowes he straitwaye rose, After them some spoyle to make : 110 Those noble erles turn'd backe againe, And aye they vowed that knight to take. That baron he to his castle fled To Barnard castle then fled hee. The uttermost walles were eathe to win, 115 The earles have wonne them presentlle. The uttermost walles were lime and bricke ; But thoughe they won them soon anone, Long e'er they wan the innermost walles, For they were cut in rocke of stone. 120 Then newes unto leeve London came In all the speede that ever might bee, And word is brought to our royall queene Of the rysing in the North countrie. Her grace she turned her round about, 125 And like a royall queene shee swore,* I will ordayne them such a breakfast, As never was in the North before. * This is quite in character: her majesty would some- times swear at her nobles, as well as box their ears. Shee caus'd thirty thousand men berays'd With horse and harneis faire to see ; 130 She caused thirty thousand men be raised, To take the earles i' th' North countrie. Wi' them the false Erie Warwick went, Th' Erie Sussex and the Lord Hunsden ; Untill they to Yorke castle came I wiss, they never stint ne blan. 135 Now spred thy ancyent, Westmorland, Thy dun bull faine would we spye : And thou, the Erie o' Northumberland, Now rayse thy half moone up on hye. 140 But the dun bulle is fled and gone, And the halfe moone vanished away : The Erles, though they were brave and bold, Against soe many could not stay. Thee, Norton, wi' thine eight good sonnes, They doorn'd to dye, alas ! for ruth ! 146 Thy reverend lockes thee could not save, Nor them their faire and blooming youthe. Wi' them full many a gallant wight They cruellye bereav'd of life : And many a childe made fatherlesse, And widowed many a tender wife. 150 IV. ftailjtfmbcrtoi) §etnjrt& bjr jf0W$fta, This ballad may be considered as the se- quel of the preceding. After the unfortunate Earl of Northumberland had seen himself forsaken of his followers, he endeavoured to withdraw into Scotland, but falling into the hands of the thievish borderers, was stript and otherwise ill-treated by them. At length he reached the house of Hector, of Harlaw, an Armstrong, with whom he hoped to lie concealed: for Hector had engaged his hon- our to be true to him, and was under great obligations to this unhappy nobleman. But this faithless wretch betrayed his guest for a sum of money to Murray the Regent of Scot- land, who sent him to the castle of Lough- leven, then belonging to William Douglas. — All the writers of that time assure us, that Hector, who was rich before, fell shortly after into poverty, and became so infamous, that to take Hector's cloak, grew into a proverb to express a man who betrays his friend. See Camden, Carleton, Holingshed, &c. Lord Northumberland continued in the castle of Lough-leven till the year 1572 ; when James Douglas Earl of Morton being elected Regent, he was given up to the Lord Hunsden at Berwick, and being carried to York suffered death. As Morton's party de- pended on Elizabeth for protection, an ele- gant historian thinks " it was scarce possible for them to refuse putting into her hands a person who had taken up arms against her. But as a sum of money was paid on that ac- count, and shared between Morton and his kinsman Douglas, the former of whom, dur- ing his exile in England, had been much in- 150 NORTHUMBERLAND BETRAYED BY DOUGLAS. debted to Northumberland's friendship, the abandoning this unhappy nobleman to inevi- table destruction, was deemed an ungrateful and mercenary act." Robertson's Hist. So far History coincides with this ballad, which was apparently written by some north- ern bard soon after the event. The interpo- sal of the "Witch-Lady" (v. 53,) is probably his own invention: yet, even this hath some countenance from history ; for, about twenty- five years before, the Lady Jane Douglas, Lady Glamis, sister of the Earl of Angus, and nearly related to Douglas of Lough-leven, had suffered death for the pretended crime of witchcraft ; who, it is presumed, is the Witch- lady alluded to in verse 133. The following is selected (like the former) from two copies, which contained great vari- ations ; one of them in the Editor's folio MS. In the other copy some of the stanzas at the beginning of this Ballad are nearly the same with what in that MS. are made to begin an- other Ballad on the escape of the Earl of Westmoreland, who got safe into Flanders, and is feigned in the ballad to have under- gone a great variety of adventures. How long shall fortune faile me nowe, And harrowe me with fear and dread ? How long shall I in bale abide, In misery my life to lead ? To fall from my bliss, alas the while ! 5 It was my sore and heavye lott : And I must leave my native land, And I must live a man forgot. One gentle Armstrong I doe ken, A Scot he is much bound to mee : 10 He dAvelleth on the border side, To him I'll goe right privilie. Thus did the noble Percy 'plaine, With a heavy heart and wel away, When he with all his gallant men 15 On Bramham moor had lost the day. But when he to the Armstrongs came, They dealt with him all treacherouslye ; For they did strip that noble earle : And ever an ill death may they dye. 20 False Iloctor to Earl Murray sent, To shew him where his guest did hide: Who sent him to the Lough-leven, With William Douglas to abide. And when he to the Douglas came, 25 He halched him right courteouslie, Say'd, Welcome, welcome, noble earle, Here thou shalt safelye bide with mee. When he had in Lough-leven been Many a month and many a day : 30 To the regent* the lord wardenf sent, That bannisht earle for to betray. He offered him great store of gold, And wrote a letter fair to see : Saying, Good my lord, grant me my boon, And yield that banisht man to mee. 36 Earle Percy at the supper sate With many a goodly gentleman: The wylie Douglas then bespake, And thus to flyte with him began : 40 What makes you be so sad, my lord, And in your mind so sorrowfullye ? To-morrow a shootinge will bee held Among the lords of the North countrye. The butts are sett, the shooting's made, And there will be great royaltye : And I am sworn e into my bille, Thither to bring my Lord Percye. 45 I'll give thee my hand, thou gentle Douglas, And here by my true faith, quoth hee, 50 If thou wilt ryde to the worldes end I will ryde in thy companye. 55 And then bespake a lady faire, Mary a Douglas was her name : You shall byde here, good English lord, My brother is a traiterous man. He is a traitor stout and strong, As I tell you in privitie : For he hath tane liverance of the earle, J Into England nowe to 'liver thee. Now nay, now nay, thou goodly lady, The regent is a noble lord : * James Douglas, Earl of Morton, elected regent of Soot- land, November 24, 1572. f Of one of the English marches. Lord Huusden. % Of the Eerl of Morton, the Regent. 60 NORTHUMBERLAND BETRAYED BY DOUGLAS. 151 Ne for the gold in all England The Douglas wold not break his word. When the regent was a banisht man, G5 With me he did faire welcome find ; And whether weal or woe betide, I still shall find him true and kind. Betweene England and Scotland it wold breake truce, And friends againe they wold never bee, If they shold 'liver a banisht erle 71 Was driven out of his own countrie. Alas! alas ! my lord, she sayes, Nowe mickle is their traitorle ; Then lett my brother ryde his wayes, 75 And tell those English lords from thee, How that you cannot with him ryde, Because you are in an ile of the sea,* Then ere my brother come againe To Edenborow castle f Ile carry thee. 80 To the Lord Hume I will thee bring, He is well knowne a true Scots lord, And he will lose both land and life, Ere he with thee will break his word. Much is my woe, Lord Percy sayd, 85 When I thinke on my own countrie, When I thinke on the heavye happe My friends have suffered there for mee. Much is my woe, Lord Percy sayd, 90 And sore those wars my minde distresse ; Where many a widow lost her mate, And many a child was fatherlesse. And now that I a banisht man Shold bring such evil happe with mee, To cause my faire and noble friends 95 To be suspect of treacherie : This rives my heart with double woe ; And lever had I dye this day, Than thinke a Douglas can be false, Or ever he will his guest betray. 100 If you'll give me no trust, my lord, Nor unto mee no credence yield ; * i. e. Lake of Leven. which hath communication with the sea. t At that time in the hands of the opposite faction. 20 Yet step one moment here aside, Ile showe you all your foes in field. Lady, I never loved witchcraft, 105 Never dealt in privy wyle ; But evermore held the high-waye Of truth and honour, free from guile. If you'll not come yourselfe, my lorde, Yet send your chamberlaine with mee ; Let me but speak three words with him, 111 And he shall come again to thee. James Swynard with that lady went, She showed him through the weme of her ring How many English lords there were 115 Waiting for his master and him. And who walkes yonder, my good lady, So royallye on yonder greene ? yonder is the Lord Hunsden :* Alas ! he'll doe you drie and teene. 120 And who beth yonder, thou gay ladye, That walkes so proudly him beside ? That is Sir William Drury,f shee sayd, A keene captaine hee is and tryde. How many miles is itt, madame, 125 Betwixt yond English lords and mee? Marry it is thrice fifty miles, To saile to them upon the sea. 1 never was on English ground, Ne never sawe it with mine eye, 130 But as my book it sheweth mee ; And through my ring I may deserve. My mother shee was a witch ladye, And of her skille she learned mee; She wold let me see out of Lough-leven 135 What they did in London citie. But who is yond, thou ladye faire, That looketh with sic an austerne face? Yonder is Sir John Foster,^ quoth shee, Alas ! he'll do ye sore disgrace. 140 He pulled his hatt downe over his browe ; He wept ; in his heart he was full of woe : * The lord warden of the East marches. f Governor of Berwick. X Warden of the Middle-march. 152 NORTHUMBERLAND BETRAYED BY DOUGLAS. And he is gone to his noble lord, Those sorrowful tidings him to show. Now nay, now nay, good James Swynard, I may not believe that witch ladie ; 146 The Douglasses were ever true, And they can ne'er prove false to mee. I have now in Lough-leven been The most part of these years three, Yett have I never had noe outrake, Ne no good games that I cold see. 150 Therefore I'll to yond shooting wend, As to the Douglas I have hight : Betide me weale, betide me woe, 155 He ne'er shall find my promise light. He writhe a gold ring from his finger, And gave itt to that gay ladie : Sayes, It was all that I cold save, In Harley woods where I cold bee.* 160 And wilt thou goe, thou noble lord, Then farewell truth and honestle ; And farewell heart and farewell hand ; For never more I shall thee see. The wind was faire, the boatmen call'd, 165 And all the saylors were on borde ; Then William Douglas took t3 his boat, And with him went that noble lord. Then he cast up a silver wand, Says, Gentle lady, fare thee well ! 170 The lady fett a sigh soe deep, And in a dead swoone down shee fell. Now let us goe back, Douglas, he sayd, A sickness hath taken yond faire ladie ; If ought befall yond lady but good, 175 Then blamed for ever I shall bee. Come on, come on, my lord, he sayes ; Come on, come on, and let her bee : There's ladyes enow in Lough-leven For to cheere that gay ladle. 180 If you'll not turne yourself, my lord, Let me goe with my chamberlaine ; We will but comfort that faire lady, And wee will return to you againe. Come on, come on, my lord, he sayes ; 185 Come on, come on, and let her bee: * i. e. Where I was. An ancient idiom. My sister is craftye, and wold beguile A thousand such as you and mee. When they had sayled* fifty myle, Now fifty mile upon the sea ; 19C Heo sent his man to ask the Douglas, When they shold that shooting see. Faire words, quoth he, they make fooles fame, And that by thee and thy lord is seen : You may hap to thinke itt soone enough, 195 Ere you that shooting reach, I ween. Jamye his hatt pulled over his browe, He thought his lord then was betray'd : And he is to Erie Percy againe, To tell him what the Douglas sayd. 200 Hold upp thy head, man, quoth his lord ; Nor therefore lett thy courage fayle, He did it but to prove thy heart, To see if he cold make it quail. When they had other fifty sayld, 205 Other fifty mile upon the sea, Lord Percy called to Douglas himselfe, Sayd, What wilt thou nowe doe with mee? Looke that your brydle be wight, my lord, And your horse goe swift as shipp att sea: Looke that your spurres be bright and sharpe, That you may pricke her while she'll away. What needeth this, Douglas? he sayth ; What needest thou to flyte with mee ? For I was counted a horseman good 215 Before that ever I mett with thee. A false Hector hath my horse, Who dealt with mee so treacherouslle : A false Armstrong hath my spurres, And all the geere belongs to mee. 220 When they had sayled other fifty mile, Other fifty mile upon the sea; They landed low by Berwicke side, A deputed ' laird' landed Lord Percye. Then he at Yorke was doomde to die, It was, alas ! a sorrowful sight : Thus they betrayed that noble earle, Who ever was a gallant wight. 225 * There is no navigable stream between Lough-loven and the sea; but a ballad-maker is not obliged to understand geography. Ver. 224, fol. MS. reads land, and has not the following stanza. MY MIND TO ME A KINGDOM IS. 153 V. [j IXtt to me a Jtfnghm is. This excellent philosophical song appears to have been famous in the sixteenth century. It is quoted by Ben Jonson in his play of " Every Man out of his Humour/' first acted in 1599, act i. sc. 1, where an impatient per- son says, " I am no such pil'd cynique to believe That beggery is the onely happinesse, Or, with a number of these patient fooles, To sing, ' My minde to me a kingdome is/ When the lanke hungrie belly barkes for foode." It is here chiefly printed from a thin quarto Music book, entitled, " Psalmes, Sonets, and Songs of sadnes and pietie, made into Mu- sicke of five parts : &c. By William Byrd, one of the Gent, of the Queenes Majesties honorable Chappell. — Printed by Thomas East, &c./' 4to. no date : but Ames in his Typog. has mentioned another edit, of the same book, dated 1588, which I take to have been later than this. Some improvements, and an additional stanza (sc. the 5th) were had from two other ancient copies ; one of them in black letter in the Pepys Collection, thus inscribed, " A sweet and pleasant sonet, intitled, 'My Minde to me a Kingdom is.' To the tune of In Crete, &c." Some of the stanzas in this poem were printed by Byrd separate from the rest : they are here given in what seemed the most natu- ral order. My minde to me a kingdom is ; Such perfect joy therein I finde As farre exceeds all earthly blisse, That Ood or Nature hath assignde : Though much I want, that most would have, Yet still my mind forbids to crave. 6 Content I live, this is my stay ; I seek no more than may suffice: I presse to beare no haughtie sway ; Look what I lack my mind supplies. 10 Loe ! thus I triumph like a king, Content with that my mind doth bring. I see how plentie surfets oft, And hastie clymbers soonest fall : I see that such as sit aloft Mishap doth threaten most of all ; These get with toile, and keep with feare : Such cares my mind could never beare. No princely pompe, nor welthie store, No force to winne the victorie, No wylie wit to salve a sore, No shape to winne a lovers eye ; To none of these I yeeld as thrall, For why my mind despiseth all. 15 20 25 Some have too much, yet still they crave I little have, yet seek no more : They are but poore, tho much they have ; And I am rich with little store : They poor, I rich ; they beg, I give ; They lacke, I lend ; they pine, I live. 30 I laugh not at anothers losse, I grudge not at anothers gaine ; No worldly wave my mind can tosse, I brooke that is anothers bane : I feare no foe, nor fawne on friend ; I lothe not life, nor dread mine end. 35 40 I joy not in no earthly blisse ; I weigh not Cresus' welth a straw ; For care, I care not what it is ; I feare not fortunes fatall law : My mind is such as may not move For beautie bright or force of love. I wish but what I have at will ; I wander not to seeke for more ; I like the plaine, I clime no hill ; In greatest stormes I sitte on shore, And laugh at them that toile in vaine To get what must be lost againe. I kisse not where I wish to kill ; I feigne not love where most I hate; 50 45 154 THE PATIENT COUNTESS. I breake no sleep to winne my will ; I wayte not at the mighties gate : I scorne no poore, I feare no rich ; I feele no want, nor have too much. The court, ne cart, I like, ne loath ; Extreames are counted worst of all The golden meane betwixt them both Doth surest sit, and feares no fall ; 55 This is my choyce, for why I finde. No wealth is like a quiet mindc. GO My welth is health, and perfect ease ; My conscience clere my chiefe defence: I never seeke by brybes to please, Nor by desert to give offence : Thus do I live, thus will I die ; G5 Would all did so as well as I ! VI. %\t fatintt tottbss- The subject of this tale is taken from that entertaining colloquy of Erasmus, entitled " Uxor M. £ p\piyapog, sive Conjugium :" which has been agreeably modernized by the late Mr. Spence,in his little miscellaneous publication, entitled " Moralities, &c, by Sir Harry Beau- mont," 1753, 8vo. pag. 42. The following stanzas are extracted from an ancientpoem entitled "Albion's England/' written by W. Warner, a celebrated poet in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, though his name and works are now equally forgotten. The reader will find some account of him in Series the Second, book ii. song 24. The following stanzas are printed from the author's improved edition of his work, printed in 1602, 4to. ; the third impression of which appeared so early as 1592, in bl. let. 4to. — The edition in 1602 is in thirteen books ; and so it is reprinted in 1612, 4to. ; yet in 1606 was published " A continuance of Albion's England, by the first author, W. W. Lond. 4to. :" this contains books xiv., xv., xvi. In Ames's Typography is preserved the memory of another publication of this writer's, enti- tled, "Warner's Poetry," printed in 1580. 12mo., and reprinted in 1602. There is also extant, under the name of Warner, " Syrinx, or seven fold Hist, pleasant and profitable, comical, and tragical," 4to. It is proper to demise that the following lines were not written by the author in Stan- zas, but in long Alexandrines of fourteen syllables : which the narrowness of our page made it here necessary to subdivide. Impatience chaungeth smoke to flame, But jelousie is hell ; Some wives by patience have redue'd 111 husbands to live well : As did the ladie of an earle, 5 Of whom I now shall tell. An earle ' there was' had wedded, lov'd ; Was lov'd, and lived long Full true to his fayre countesse ; yet At last he did her wrong. 10 Once hunted he untill the chace, Long fasting, and the heat Did house him in a peakish graunge Within a forest great. Where knowne and welcom'd (as the place And persons might afforde) 16 Browne bread, whig, bacon, curds and milke Were set him on the borde. A cushion made of lists, a stoole Halfe backed with a hoope 20 Were brought him, and he sitteth down Besides a sorry coupe. The poore old couple wisht their bread Were wheat, their whig were perry, Their bacon beefe, their milke and curds 25 Were creame, to make him merry. Mean while (in russet neatly clad, With linen white as swanne, Herselfe more white, save rosie where The ruddy colour ranne : 30 THE PATIENT COUNTESS. 155 Whome naked nature, not the aydes Of arte made to excell) The good man's daughter sturres to see That all were feat and well ; The earle did marke her, and admire 35 Such beautie there to dwell. Yet fals he to their homely fare, And held him at a feast: Bat as his hunger slaked, so An amorous heat increast. 40 When this repast was past, and thanks, And welcome too ; he sayd Unto his host and hostesse, in The hearing of the mayd : See know, quoth he, that I am lord 45 Of this, and many townes ! I also know that you be poore, And I can spare you pownes. Soe will I, so yee will consent, That yonder lasse and I 50 May bargaine for her love ; at least, Doe give me leave to trye. Who needs to know it? nay who dares Into my doings pry ? First they mislike, yet at the length 55 For lucre were misled ; And then the gamesome earle did wowe The damsell for his bed. He took her in his armes, as yet So coyish to be kist, 60 As rnayds that know themselves belov'd. And yieldingly resist. In few, his offers were so large She lastly did consent ; With whom he lodged all that night, 65 And early home he went. He tooke occasion oftentimes In such a sort to hunt, Whom when his lady often mist, Contrary to his wont, 70 And lastly was informed of His amorous haunt elsewhere, It greev'd her not a little, though She seem'd it well to beare. And thus she reasons with herselfe, Some fault perhaps in me ; Somewhat is done, that soe he doth; Alas ! what may it bee ? How may I winne him to myself? He is a man, and men Have imperfections ; it behooves Me pardon nature then. ■ To checke him were to make him checke* Although hee now were chaste A man controuled of his wife, To her makes lesser haste. If duty then, or daliance may Prevayle to alter him ; I will be dutifull, and make My selfe for daliance trim. So was she, and so lovingly Did entertaine her lord, As fairer, or more faultles none Could be for bed or bord. 75 80 85 90 Yet still he loves his leiman, and 95 Did still pursue that game, Suspecting nothing less, than that His lady knew the same : Wherefore to make him know she knew, She this devise did frame : 100 When long she had been wrong'd and sought The foresayd meanes in vaine, . She rideth to the simple graunge But with a slender traine. She lighteth, entreth, greets them well 105 And then did looke about her, The guiltie houshold knowing her, Did wish themselves without her ; Yet, for she looked merily, The lesse they did misdoubt her. 110 Wlien she had seen the beauteous wench (Then blushing fairnes fairer) Such beauty made the countesse hold Them both excus'd the rather. Who would not bite at such a bait? 115 Thought she: and who (though loth) * To check is a term in falconry, applied when a hawk stops and turns away from his proper pursuit: to cbeck also signifies to reprove or chide. It is in this ver&e used in both 156 THE PATIENT COUNTESS. So poore a wench, but gold might tempt ? Sweet errors lead them both. Scarse one in twenty that had bragg'd Of proffer'd gold denied, Or of such yeelding beautie baulkt, But, tenne to one, had lied. 120 Thus thought she : and she thus declares Her cause of coming thether ; My lord, oft hunting in these partes, 125 Through travel, night or wether, Hath often lodged in your house ; I thanke you for the same ; For why ? it cloth him jolly ease To lie so neare his game. 130 But, for you have not furniture Beseeming such a guest, I bring his owne. and come myselfe To see his lodging drest. With that two sumpters were discharged, In which were hangings brave, 136 Silke coverings, curtens, carpets, plate, And al such turn should have. When all was handsomly disposed, She prayes them to have care 140 That nothing hap in their default, That might his health impair : And, damsell, quoth shee, for it seems This houshold is but three, And for thy parents age, that this 145 Shall chiefely rest on thee ; Do me that good, else would to God He hither come no more. So tooke she horse, and ere she went Bestowed gould good store. 150 Full little thought the countie that His countesse had done so : Who now return'd from far affaires Did to his sweet-heart go. No sooner sat he foote within 155 The late deformed cote, But that the formall change of things His wondering eies did note. But when he knew those goods to be His propor goods ; though late, 160 Scarce taking leave, he home returnes The matter to debate. The countesse was a-bed, and he With her his lodging tooke ; Sir, welcome home (quoth shee); this night For you I did not looke. 166 Then did he question her of such His stuffe bestowed soe. Forsooth, quoth she, because I did Your love and lodging knowe : 170 Your love to be a proper wench, Your lodging nothing lesse ; I held it for your health, the house More decently to dresse. Well wot I, notwithstanding her, Your lordship loveth me : And greater hope to hold you such By quiet, then brawles, 'you' see. Then for my duty, your delight, And to retaine your favour All done I did, and patiently Expect your wonted 'haviour. 175 180 Her patience, witte and answer wrought His gentle teares to fall : When (kissing her a score of times) 185 Amend, sweet wife, I shall : He said, and did it : 'so each wife Her husband may' recall. DOWSABELL. 157 VII. 0tossb*IL The following stanzas were written by Michael Drayton, a poet of some eminence in the reigns of Queen Elizabeth, James I., and Charles I.* They are inserted in one of his pastorals, the first edition of which bears this whimsical title. "Idea. The Shepheards Garland, fashioned in nine Eglogs. Row- land's Sacrifice to the Nine Muses. London, 1593." 4to. They are inscribed with the author's name at length " To the noble and and valerous gentleman Master Robert Dud- ley, &c." It is very remarkable that when Drayton reprinted them in the first folio edit. of his works, 1619, he had given those eco- logues so thorough a revisal, that there is hardly a lin° to be found the same as in the old edition. This poem had received the fewest corrections, and therefore is chiefly given from the ancient copy, where it is thus introduced by one of his shepherds : Listen to mee, my lovely shepheards joye, And thou shalt heare, with mirth and mickle glee, A pretie tale, which when I was a boy, My toothles grandame oft hath tolde to me. The author has professedly imitated the style and metre of some of the old metrical romances, particularly that of Sir Isenbrasf (alluded to in v. 3), as the reader may judge from the following specimen : Lordynges, lvsten, and you shal here, &c. # # * * Ye shall well heare of a knight, That was in warre full wyght And doughtye of his dede : His name was Syr Isenbras, 10 Man nobler than he was Lyved none with breade. He was lyvely, large, and longe, With shoulders broade, and armes stronge, That myghtie was to se : 15 * He was born in 1563, and died in 1631. Big. Brit, t As also Chaucer's Rhyme of Sir Topas, v. 6. He was a hardye man, and hye, All men hym loved that hym se, For a gentyll knight was he : Harpers loved him in hall, With other minstrells all, For he gave them gold and fee, &c. 20 This ancient legend was printed in black- letter, 4to., by William Copland ; no date. In the Cotton Library (Calig. A. 2) is a MS. copy of the same romance, containing the greatest variations. They are probably two different translations of some French ori- ginal. Farre in the countrey of Arden, There won'd a knight, hight Cassemen, As bold as Isenbras : Fell was he, and eger bent, In battell and in tournament, 5 As was the good Sir Topas. He had, as antique stories tell, A daughter cleaped Dowsabel, A mayden fayre and free : And for she was her fathers heire, 10 Full well she was y-cond the leyre Of mickle courtesie. The silke well couth she twist and twine, And make the fine march-pine, And with the needle werke : 15 And she couth helpe the priest to say His mattins on a holy-day, And sing a psalme in kirke. She ware a frock of frolicke greene, Might well beseeme a mayden queene, 20 Which seemly was to see ; A hood to that so neat and fine, In colour like the columbine, Y-wrought full featously. Her features all as fresh above, 25 As is the grasse that growes by Dove : And lyth as lasse of Kent. 158 DOWSABELL. Her skin as soft as Lemster wooll, As white as snow on Peakish Hull, Or swanne that swims in Trent. 30 This mayden in a morne betime Went forth when May was in her prime, To get sweete cetywall, The honey-suckle, the harlocke, The lilly and the lady smocke, 35 To deck her summer hall. Thus, as she wandred here and there, Y-picking of the bloomed breere, She chanced to espie A shepheard sitting on a bancke Like chanteclere he crowed cranke, And pip'd full merrilie. 40 45 He lear'd his sheepe as he him list, When he would whistle in his fist, To feede about him round ; Whilst he full many a carrol sung, Untill the fields and medowes rung, And all the woods did sound. In favour this same shepheards swayne Was like the bedlam Tamburlayne,* 50 Which helde prowd kings in awe : But meeke he was as a lamb mought be ; An innocent of ill as lief Whom his lewd brother slaw. The shepheard ware a sheepe-gray cloke, 55 Which was of the finest loke, That could be cut with sheere : His mittens were of bauzens skinne, His cockers were of cordiwin, His hood of meniveere. 60 His aule and lingell in a thong, His tar-boxe on his broad belt hong, His breech of coyntrie blewe ; Full crispe and curled were his lockes, His browes as white as Albion rocks : So like a lover true. 65 And pyping still he spent the day. So merry as the popingay ; Which liked Dowsabel : That would she ought, or would she nought, This lad would never from her thought; 71 She in love-longing fell. * Alluding to " Tamburlaine the Great, or the Scythian Shepheard," 1590, 8vo., an old ranting play ascribed to Marlowe. f Sc. Abel. At length she tucked up her frocke, White as a lilly was her smocke, She drew the shepheard nye: 75 But then the shepheard pyp'd a good, That all his sheepe forsooke their foode, To heare his melodye. Thy sheepe, quoth she, cannot be leane, That have a jolly shepheards swayne, 80 The which can pipe so well: Yea but, sayth he, their shepheard may, If pyping thus he pine away In love of Dowsabel. Of love, fond boy, take thou no keepe, 85 Quoth she ; looke thou unto thy sheepe, Lest they should hap to stray. Quoth he, So I had done full well, Had I not seen fayre Dowsabell Come forth to gather maye. 90 With that she gan to vaile her head, Her cheeks were like the roses red, But not a word she sayd : AVith that the shepheard gan to frowne, He threw his pretie pypes adowne, 95 And on the ground him layd. Sayth she, I may not stay till night, And leave my summer-hall undight, And all for long of thee. My coate, sayth he, nor yet my foulde 100 Shall neither sheepe nor shepheard hould, Except thou favour mee. Sayth she, Yet lever were I dead, Then I should lose my mayden-head, And all for love of men. 105 Sayth he, Yet are you too unkind, If in your heart you cannot finde To love us now and then. And I to thee will be as kinde As Colin was to Rosalinde, 110 Of curtesie the flower. Then will I "be as true, quoth she, As ever mayden yet might be Unto her paramour. With that she bent her snow-white knee, 115 Down by the shepheard kneeled shee, And him she sweetly kist: With that the shepheard whoop'd for joy, Quoth he, Ther's never shepheards boy That ever was so blist. 120 ULYSSES AND THE SYREN. 159 VIII. %\t $Mttot\\ in f0tjL From Beaumont and Fletcher's play, enti- tled The Lover's Progress, act iii. sc. 1. Adieu, fond love, farewell you wanton powers ; I am free again. Thou dull disease of bloud and idle hours, Bewitching pain, Fly to fools, that sigh away their time : 5 My nobler love to heaven doth climb, And there behold beauty still young. That time can ne'er corrupt, nor death de- stroy, Immortal sweetness by fair angels sung, And honoured by eternity and joy : 10 There lives my love, thither my hopes aspire. Fond love declines, this heavenly love grows higher. IX. SIpsts n\ \\t %ixm< — affords a pretty poetical contest between Pleasure and Honour. It is found at the end of "Hymen's Triumph: a pastoral tragi- comedie," written by Daniel, and printed among his works, 4to, 1623.* — Daniel, who was a contemporary of Drayton's, and is said to have been poet laureat to Queen Elizabeth, was born in 1562, and died in 1619. Anne Countess of Dorset, Pembroke, and Mont- gomery (to whom Daniel had been Tutor), has inserted a small portrait of him in a full- length picture of herself, preserved at Ap- pleby Castle, in Cumberland. This- little poem is the rather selected for a specimen of Daniel's poetic powers, as it is omitted in the later edition of his works, 2 vols. 12mo. 1718. Syren. Come, worthy Greeke, Ulysses come, Possesse these shores with me, The windes and seas are troublesome, And here we may be free. Here may we sit and view their toyle 5 That travaile in the deepe, Enjoy the day in mirth the while, And spend the night in sleepe. * In this edition it is collated with a copy printed at the end of his « Trasredie of Cleopatra. London. 1607," 12mo. 21 15 Ulysses. Faire nymph, if fame or honour were To be attain'd with ease, 10 Then would I come and rest with thee, And leave such toiles as these : But here it dwels, and here must I With danger seek it forth ; To spend the time luxuriously Becomes not men of worth. Syren. Ulysses, be not deceiv'd With that unreall name : This honour is a thing conceiv'd, And rests on others' fame. Begotten only to molest Our peace, and to beguile (The best thing of our life) our rest, And give us up to toyle ! 20 Ulysses. Delicious nymph, suppose there were Nor honor, nor report, Yet manlinesse would scorne to weare The time in idle sport : For toyle doth give a better toncl . To make us feele our joy ; 25 30 160 CUPID'S PASTIME. And ease findes tediousnes, as much As labour yeelds annoy. Syren. Then pleasure likewise seemes the shore, Whereto tendes all your toyle ; Which you forego to make it more, 35 And perish oft the while. Who may disport them diversly, Find never tedious day ; And ease may have variety, As well as action may. 40 Ulysses. But natures of the noblest frame These toyles and dangers please ; And they take comfort in the same, As much as you in ease : And with the thought of actions past 45 Are recreated still : When pleasure leaves a touch at last To show that it was ill. Syren. That doth opinion only cause, That's out of custom bred ; 50 Which makes us many other laws Than ever nature did. No widdowes waile for our delights, Our sports are without blood ; The world we see by warlike wights 55 Receives more hurt than good. Ulysses. But yet the state of things require These motions of unrest, And these great spirits of high desire Seem borne to turne them best : f>0 To purge the mischiefes, that increase And all good order mar : For oft we see a wicked peace To be well chang'd for war. Well, well, Ulysses, then I see 65 I shall not have thee here ; And therefore I will come to thee, And take my fortune there. I must be wonne that cannot win, Yet lost were I not wonne : 70 For beauty hath created bin T' undoo or be undone. tfwjjifc's $8stimt This beautiful poem, which possesses a classical elegance hardly to be expected in the age of James I., is printed from the 4th edition of Davison's Poems, &c, 1621. It is also found in a later miscellany, entitled, " Le Prince d' Amour," 1660, 8vo. Francis Davison, editor of the poems above referred to, was son of that unfortunate secretary of state, who suffered so much from the affair of Mary Queen of Scots. These poems, he tells us in his preface, were written by himself, by his brother [Walter], who was a soldier in the wars of the Low Countries, and by some dear friends " anonymoi." Among them are found some pieces by Sir J. Davis, the Countess of Pembroke, Sir Philip Sidney, Spenser, and other wits of those times. In the fourth vol. of Dry den's Miscellanies, this poem is attributed to Sydney Godolphin, Esq. ; but erroneously, being probably writ- ten before he was born. One edit, of Davison's book was published in 1608. Godolphin was born in 1610, and died in 1642-3. Ath. Ox. II. 23. It chanc'd of late a shepherd swain, That went to seek his straying sheep, Within a thicket on a plain Espied a dainty nymph asleep. Her golden hair o'erspread her face ; 5 Her careless arms abroad were cast ; Her quiver had her pillows place ; Her breast lay bare to every blast. THE CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE. 101 The shepherd stood and gaz'd his fill ; Nought durst he do ; nought durst he say; Whilst chance, or else perhaps his will, 11 Did guide the god of love that way. The crafty boy that sees her sleep, Whom if she wak'd he durst not see ; Behind her closely seeks to creep ; 15 Before her nap should ended bee. There come, he steals her shafts away, And puts his own into their place ; Nor dares he any longer stay, But, ere she wakes, hies thence apace. 20 Scarce was he gone, but she awakes, And spies the shepherd standing by : Her bended bow in haste she takes, And at the simple swain lets flye. Forth flew the shaft, and pierc'd his heart, That to the ground he fell with pain : 26 Yet up again forthwith he start, And to the nymph he ran amain. Amazed to see so strange a sight, She shot, and shot, but all in vain ; 30 The more his wounds, the more his might, Love yielded strength amidst his pain. Her angry eyes were great with tears, She blames her hand, she blames her skill; The bluntness of her shafts she fears, 35 And try them on herself she will. Take heed, sweet nymph, trye not thy shaft, Each little touch will pierce thy heart; Alas ! thou know'st not Cupids craft ; Revenge is joy; the end is smart. 40 Yet try she will, and pierce some bare ; Her hands were glov'd but next to hand Was that fair breast, that breast so rare, That made the shepherd senseless stand. That breast she pierc'd ; and through that breast 45 Love found an entry to her heart : At feeling of this new-come guest, Lord ! how this gentle nymph did start ! She runs not now ; she shoots no more ; Away she throws both shaft and bow : 50 She seeks for what she shunn'd before, She thinks the shepherds haste too slow. Though mountains meet not, lovers may : What other lovers do, did they : The god of love sate on a tree, 55 And laught that pleasant sight to see. XI. %\t Cljratte 0( % Jagpg fife. This little moral poem was writ by Sir Henry Wotton, who died Provost of Eton in 1639, Mt. 72. It is printed from a little collection of his pieces, entitled, " Reliquiae Wottonianae," 1651, 12mo. ; compared with one or two other copies. How happy is he born or taught, That serveth not anothers will ; Whose armour is his honest thought, And simple truth his highest skill : Whose passions not his masters are, 5 Whose soul is still prepar'd for death ; Not ty'd unto the world with care Of princes ear, or vulgar breath. Who hath his life from rumours freed ; Whose conscience is his strong retreat ; 10 Whose state can neither flatterers feed, Nor ruine make oppressors great : Who envies none, whom chance doth raise, Or vice : Who never understood How deepest wounds are given with praise ; Nor rules of state, but rules of good : 16 162 GILDEROY. Who God doth late and early pray- More of his grace than gifts to lend And entertains the harmless day With a well-chosen book or friend. £0 This man is freed from servile bands Of hope to rise, or feare to fall ; Lord of himselfe, though not of lands ; And having nothing, yet hath all. XII. — was a famous robber, who lived about the middle of the last century, if we may credit the histories and story-books of high- waymen, which relate many improbable feats of him, as his robbing Cardinal Richelieu, Oliver Cromwell, &c. But these stories have probably no other authority, than the records of Grub-street: At least the "Gilderoy," who is the hero of Scottish Songsters, seems to have lived in an earlier age ; for, in Thom- son's Orpheus Caledonius, vol. ii. 1733, 8vo., is a copy of this ballad, which, though cor- rupt and interpolated, contains some lines that appear to be of genuine antiquity : in these he is represented as contemporary with Mary Queen of Scots : ex. gr. " The Queen of Scots possessed nought, That my love let me want : Forcow and ew to me he brought, And ein whan they were scant." These lines perhaps might safely have been inserted among the following stanzas, which are given from a written copy, that appears to have received some modern corrections. Indeed the common popular ballad contained come indecent luxuriances that required the pruning-hook. Gilderoy was a bonnie boy, Had roses tull his shoone, His stockings were of silken soy, Wi' garters hanging doune : It was, I weene, a comelie sight, 5 To see sae trim a boy ; He was my jo and hearts delight, My handsome Gilderoy. Oh ! sike twa charming een he had, A breath as sweet as rose, 10 He never ware a Highland plaid, But costly silken clothes ; He gained the luve of ladies gay, Nane eir tull him was coy : Ah ! wae is mee ! I mourn the day 15 For my dear Gilderoy. My Gilderoy and I were born, Baith in one toun together, "VYe scant were seven years beforn, We gan to luve each other : 20 Our dadies and our mammies thay, Were fill'd wi' mickle joy, To think upon the bridal day, Twixt me and Gilderoy. For Gilderoy that luve of mine, 25 Gude faith, I freely bought A wedding sark of holland fine, Wi' silken flowers wrought : And he gied me a wedding ring, Which I receiv'd wi' joy, 30 Nae lad nor lassie eir could sing, Like me and Gilderoy. Wi' mickle joy we spent our prime, Till we were baith sixteen, And aft we past the langsome time, Among the leaves sae green ; Aft on the banks we'd sit us thair, And sweetly kiss and toy, Wi' garlands gay wad deck my hair My handsome Gilderoy. 35 40 Oh ! that he still had been content, Wi' me to lead his life ; But, ah ! his manfu' heart was bent, To stir in feates of strife : And he in many a venturous deed, 45 His courage bauld wad try ; WINIFREDA. 163 And now this g.irs mine heart to bleed, For my dear Gilderoy. And when of me his leave he tuik, The tears they wat mine ee, 50 I gave tull him a parting luik, " My benison gang wi' thee ; God speed thee weil, mine ain dear heart For gane is all my joy ; My heart is rent sith we maun part, 55 My handsome Gilderoy." My Gilderoy baith far and near, Was fear'd in every toun, And bauldly bare away the gear, Of many a lawland loun: 60 Nane eir durst meet him man to man, He was sae brave a boy ; At length wi' numbers he was tane, My winsome Gilderoy. Wae worth the loun that made the laws, To hang a man for gear, 66 To 'reave of live for ox or ass, For sheep, or horse, or mare : Had not their laws been made sae strick, I neir had lost my joy, 70 Wi' sorrow neir had wat my cheek, For my dear Gilderoy. Giff Gilderoy had done amisse, He mought hae banisht been ; Ah ! what sair cruelty is this, 75 To hang sike handsome men : To hang the flower o' Scottish land, Sae sweet and fair a boy ; Nae lady had sae white a hand, As thee my Gilderoy. 80 Of Gilderoy sae fraid they were, They bound him mickle strong, Tull Edenburrow they led him thair, And on a gallows hung: They hung him high aboon the rest, 85 He was sae trim a boy ; Thair dyed the youth whom I lued best My handsome Gilderoy. Thus having yielded up his breath, I bare his corpse away, 90 Wi' tears, that trickled for his death, I washt his comelye clay ; And sicker in a grave sae deep, I laid the dear-lued boy, And now for evir maun I weep, 95 My winsome Gilderoy. XIII. ffltinifn&a* This beautiful address to conjugal love, a subject too much neglected by the libertine muses, was, I believe, first printed in a vol- ume of " Miscellaneous Poems, by several hands, published by D. [David] Lewis, 1726, 8vo." It is there said, how truly I know not, to be a translation " from the ancient British language." Away; let nought to love displeasing My Winifred a, move your care ; Let nought delay the heavenly blessing, Nor squeamish pride, nor gloomy fear. What tho' no grants of royal donors 5 With pompous titles grace our blood : We'll shine in more substantial hon.ors, And to be noble we'll be good. Our name, while virtue thus we tender, 9 Will sweetly sound where-e'er 'tis spoke And all the great ones, they shall wonder How they respect such little folk. What though from fortune's lavish bounty No mighty treasures we possess ; We'll find within our pittance plenty, 15 And be content without excess. Still shall each returning season Sufficient for our wishes give ; For we will live a life of reason, And that's the only life to live. 20 1G4 THE WITCH OF WOKEY. Through youth and age in love excelling, We'll hand in hand together tread ; iweet-smiling peace shall crown our dwelling, And babes, sweet-smiling babes, our bed. How should I love the pretty creatures, 25 While round my knees they fondly clung ; To see them look their mothers features, To hear them lisp their mothers tongue. And when with envy time transported, Shall think to rob us of our joys, You'll in your girls again be courted, And I'll go a wooing in my boys. XIV. %\t m\u\ 0f mubg. -was published in a small collection of poems, entitled, " Euthemia, or the Power of Harmony ; &c." 1756, written, in 1748, by the ingenious Dr. Harrington, of Bath, who never allowed them to be published, and with- held his name till it could no longer be con- cealed. The following copy was furnished by the late Mr. Shenstone, with some variations and corrections of his own, which he had taken the liberty to propose, and for which the Author's indulgence was intreated. In this edition it was intended to reprint the Author's own original copy ; but, as that may be seen correctly given in Pearch's Col- lection, vol., i.. 1783, p. 161, it was thought the reader of taste would wish to have the variations preserved ; they are therefore still retained here, which it is hoped the worthy author will excuse with his wonted liberality. Wokey-hole is a noted cavern in Somerset- shire, which has given birth to as many wild fanciful stories as the Sybils Cave in Italy. Through a very narrow entrance, it opens in- to a very large vault, the roof whereof, either on account of its height, or the thickness of the gloom, cannot be discovered by the light of torches. It goes winding a great way under ground, is crossed by a stream of very cold water, and is all horrid with broken pieces of rock: many of these are evident petrifications: which, on account of their singular forms, have given rise to the fables alluded to in this poem. In aunciente days tradition showes A base and wicked elfe arose, The Witch of Wokey hight: Oft have I heard the fearfull tale From Sue, and Roger of the vale, On some long winter's night. Deep in the dreary dismall cell, Which seem'd and was ycleped hell, This blear-eyed hag did hide : Nine wicked elves, as legends sayne, She chose to form her guardian trayne And kennel near her side. 10 Here screeching owls oft made their nest, While wolves its craggy sides possest, Night-howling thro' the rock : 15 No wholesome herb could here be found ; She blasted every plant around. And blister'd every flock. Her haggard face was foull to see ; Her mouth unmeet a mouth to bee ; 20 Her eyne of deadly leer, She nought devis'd, but neighbour's ill ; She wreak'd on all her wayward will, And marr'd all goodly chear. All in her prime have poets sung, 25 No gaudy youth, gallant and young, E'er blest her longing armes ; And hence arose her spight to vex, And blast the youth of either sex, By dint of hellish charms. 30 From Glaston came a lerned wight, Full bent to marr her fell despight, And well he did I ween : Sich mischief never had been known, And, since his mickle lerninge shown, 35 Sich mischief ne'er has been. BRYAN AND PEREENE. > 165 He chauntede out his godlie booke, He crost the water, blest the brooke, Then — pater noster done, — The ghastly hag he sprinkled o'er : 40 When lo ! where stood a hag before, Now stood a ghastly stone. Full well 'tis known adown the dale: Tho' passing strange indeed the tale, And doubtfull may appear, 45 I'm bold to say, there's never a one, That has not seen the witch in stone, With all her household gear. But tho' this lernede clerke did well ; With grieved heart, alas ! I tell, 50 She left this curse behind : That Wokey-nymphs forsaken quite, Tho' sense and beauty both unite, Should find no leman kind. For lo ! even, as the fiend did say, 55 The sex have found it to this day, That men are wondrous scant : Here's beauty, wit, and sense combin'd, With all that's good and virtuous join'd, Yet hardly one gallant. 60 Shall then sich maids unpitied moane? They might as well, like her, be stone, As thus forsaken dwell. Since Glaston now can boast no clerks : Come down from Oxenford, ye sparks, And, oh ! revoke the spell. Yet stay — nor thus despond, ye fair Virtue's the god's' peculiar care ; I hear the gracious voice : Your sex shall soon be blest agen, We only wait to find sich men, As best deserve your choice. 65 70 XV. irpn Bitft fmetu, A WEST-INDIAN BALLAD, — is founded on a real fact, that happened in the island of St. Christophers about the beginning of the present reign. The Editor owes the following stanzas to the friendship of Dr. James Grainger,* who was an eminent physician in that island when this tragical incident happened, and died there much hon- oured and lamented in 1767. To this ingeni- ous gentleman the public are indebted for the fine Ode on Solitude, printed in the 4th vol. of Dodsley's Miscellany, p. 229, in which are assembled some of the sublimest images in nature. The reader will pardon the inser- tion of the first stanza here, for the sake of rectifying the two last lines, which were thus given by the author : Solitude, romantic maid, Whether by nodding towers you tread, Or haunt the desert's trackless gloom, Or hover o'er the yawning tomb, Or climb the Andes' clifted side, Or by the Nile's coy source abide, * Author of a poem on the " Culture of the Sugar-Cane," fee, published by Messrs. Wood and Dawkins. Or starting from your half year's sleep From Hecla view the thawing deep, Or at the purple dawn of day Tadmor's marble wastes survey, &c. alluding to the account of Palmyra published by some late ingenious travellers, and the manner in which they were struck at the first sight of those magnificent ruins by break of day.* The north-east wind did briskly blow, The ship was safely moor'd; Young Bryan thought the boat's-crew slow, And so leapt over-board. Pereene, the pride of Indian dames, 5 His heart long held in thrall ; And whoso his impatience blames, I wot, ne'er lov'd at all. A long long year, one month and day, He dwelt on English land, 10 Nor once in thought or deed would stray, Tho' ladies sought his hand. * So in page 235, it should be, Turn'd Tier magic vy. 166 GENTLE RIVER, GENTLE RIVER. For Bryan he was tall and strong, Right blythsome rolPd his een, Sweet was his voice whene'er he sung, 15 He scant had twenty seen. But who the countless charms can draw, That grac'd his mistress true ; Such charms the old world seldom saw, Nor oft I ween the new. 20 Her raven hair plays round her neck, Like tendrils of the vine ; Her cheeks red dewy rosebuds deck, Her eyes like diamonds shine. Soon as his well-known ship she spied, 25 She cast her weeds away, And to the palmy shore she hied, All in her best array. In sea-green silk so neatly clad She there impatient stood ; 30 The crew with wonder saw the lad Repell the foaming flood. Her hands a handkerchief display'd, "Which he at parting gave ; Well pleas'd the token he survey'd, 35 And manlier beat the wave. Her fair companions one and all, Rejoicing crowd the strand ; For now her lover swam in call, And almost touch'd the land. 40 Then through the white surf did she haste, To clasp her lovely swain ; When, ah 1 a shark bit through his waste : His heart's blood dy'd the main ! He shriek'd ! his half sprang from the wave, Streaming with purple gore, 46 And soon it found a living grave, And ah ! was seen no more. Now haste, now haste, ye maids, I pray, Fetch water from the spring : 50 She falls, she swoons, she dies away, And soon her knell they ring. Now each May morning round her tomb, Ye fair, fresh flowerets strew, So may your lovers scape his doom, 55 Her hapless fate scape you. XVI. §m\\t fiiur, (&tti\t $ib*r« TRANSLATED FROM THE SPANISH. Although the English are remarkable for the number and variety of their ancient bal- lads, and retain, perhaps, a greater fondness for these old simple rhapsodies of their an- cestors than most other nations, they are not the only people who have distinguished them- selves by compositions of this kind. The Spaniards have great multitudes Of them, many of which are of the highest merit. They call them in their language Romances, and have collected them into volumes under the titles of El Eomancero, El Cancionero* &c. Most of them relate to their conflicts with the Moors, and display a spirit of gal- * i. e. The ballad-singer. lantry peculiar to that romantic people. But of all the Spanish ballads, none exceed in poetical merit those inserted in a little Span ish " History of the Civil Wars of Granada," describing the dissensions which raged in that last seat of Moorish empire before it was conquered in the reign of Ferdinand and Isa- bella, in 1491. In this history (or perhaps ro- mance) a great number of heroic songs are inserted, and appealed to as authentic vouch- ers for the truth of facts. In reality, the prose narrative seems to be drawn up for no other end, but to introduce and illustrate those beautiful pieces. The Spanish editor pretends — how truly I know not — that they are translations from the GENTLE RIVER, GENTLE RIVER. 1G7 Arabic or Morisco language. Indeed, from the plain unadorned nature of the verse, and the native simplicity of the language and Rentiment, which runs through these poems, one would judge them to have been composed soon after the conquest of Granada above mentioned ; as the prose narrative in which they are inserted was published about a cen- tury after. It should seem, at least, that they were written before the Castilians had formed themselves so generally, as they have done since, on the model of the Tuscan poets, or had imported from Italy that fondness for conceit and refinement, which has, for near two centuries past, so much infected the Spanish poetry, and rendered it so frequently affected and obscure. As a specimen of the ancient Spanish man- ner, which very much resembles that of our old English bards and minstrels, the reader is desired candidly to accept the two follow- ing poems. They are given from a small collection of pieces of this kind, which the Editor some years ago translated for his amusement, when he was studying the Span- ish language As the first is a pretty close translation, to gratify the curious it is ac- companied with the original. The metre is the same in all these old Spanish ballads : it is of the most simple construction, and is still used by the common people in their ex- temporaneous songs, as we learn from Baret- ti's Travels. It runs in short stanzas of four lines, of which the second and fourth alone correspond in their terminations ; and in these it is only required that the vowels should be alike; the consonants maybe alto- gether different, as pone casa meten arcos noble cartas muere gamo Yet has this kind of verse a sort of simple harmonious flow, which atones for the im- perfect nature of the rhyme, and renders it not unpleasing to the ear. The same flow of numbers has been studied in the follow- ing versions. The first of them is given from two different originals, both of which are printed in the Hist, de las Civiles Guerras de Granada. Mad. 1694. One of them hath the rhymes ending in aa, the other in ia. It is the former of these that is here reprinted. They both of them begin with the same line; Rio verde, rio verde* which could not be translated faithfully : Verdant river, verdant river, would have given an affected stiffness to the verse ; the great merit of which is easy sim- plicity ; and therofore a more simple epithet was adopted, though less poetical or expres- sive. * Literally, Green river, green river. Rio Verde is said to be the name of a river in Spain : which ought to have been attended to by the translator had he known it. " Rio verde, rio verde, Quanto cuerpo en ti se bana De Christianos y de Moros Muertos por la dura espada ! " Y tus ondas cristalinas De roxa sangre se esmaltan : Entre moros y Christianos Muy gran batalla se trava. " Murieron Duques y Condes, Grandes senores de salva : Murio gente de valia De la nobleza de Espana. " En ti murio don Alonso, Que de Aguilar se llamaba El valeroso Urdiales, Con don Alonso acababa. 10 15 Gentle river, gentle river, Lo, thy streams are stain'd with gore, Many a brave and noble captain Floats along thy willow'd shore. All beside thy limpid waters, 5 All beside thy sands so bright, Moorish Chiefs and Christian warriors Join'd in fierce and mortal fight. Lords, and dukes, and noble princes On thy fatal banks were slain : 10 Fatal banks that gave to slaughter All the pride and flower of Spain. There the hero, brave Alonzo Full of wounds and glory died : There the fearless Urdiales 15 Fell a victim by his side. 22 168 GFNTLE RIVER, GENTLE RIVER. " Por un ladera arriba El buen Sayavedra marcha ; Naturel es de Sevilla, De la gente mas granada. 20 " Tras el iba un Renegado, Desta manera le habla ; Date, date, Sayavedra, No huyas de la batalla. " Yo te conozco muy bien, 25 Gran tiempo estuve en tu easa ; Y en la Placa de Sevilla Bien te vide jugar canas. " Conozco a tu padre y madre, Y a tu muger dona Clara ; 30 Siete anos fui tu cautivo, Malamente me tratabas. " Y aora lo seras mio, Si Mahoma me ayudara ; Y tambien te tratare, 35 Como a mi me tratabas. " Sayavedra que lo oyera, Al Moro bolvio la cara ; Tirole el Moro una flecha, Pero nunca le acertaba. 40 " Hiriole Sayavedra De una herida muy mala : Muerto cayo el Renegado Sin poder hablar palabra. " Sayavedra fue cercado 45 De mucha Mora canalla, Y al cabo cayo alii muerto De una muy mala lanc,ada. " Don Alonso en este tiempo Bravamente peleava, 50 Y el cavallo le avian muerto, Y le tiene por muralla." " Mas cargaron tantos Moros Que mal le hieren y tratan : De la sangre, que perdia, 55 Don Alonso se desmaya. -' Al fin, al fin cayo muerto Al pie de un pena alta, « Muerto queda don Alonso, Eterna fama ganara." 60 Lo ! where yonder Don Saavedra Thro' their squadrons slow retires Proud Seville, his native city, Proud Seville his worth admires. 20 Close behind a renegado Loudly shouts with taunting cry ; Yield thee, yield thee, Don Saavedra, Dost thou from the battle fly ? Well I know thee, haughty Christian, 25 Long I liv'd beneath thy roof; Oft I've in the lists of glory Seen thee win the prize of proof. Well I know thy aged parents, Well thy blooming bride I know ; 30 Seven years I was thy captive, Seven years of pain and woe. May our prophet grant my wishes, Haughty chief, thou shalt be mine ; Thou shalt drink that cup of sorrow, 35 Which I drank when I was thine. Like a lion turns the warrior, Back he sends an angry glare : Whizzing came the Moorish javelin, Vainly whizzing thro' the air. 40 Back the hero full of fury Sent a deep and mortal wound : Instant sunk the Renegado, Mute and lifeless on the ground. With a thousand Moors surrounded, 45 Brave Saavedra stands at bay : Wearied out but never daunted, Cold at length the warrior lay. Near him fighting great Alonzo Stout resists the Paynim bands ; 50 From his slaughter'd steed dismounted Firm intrench'd behind him stands. Furious press the hostile squadron, Furious he repels their rage : Loss of blood at length enfeebles : . 55 Who can war with thousands wage ! Where yon rock the plain o'ershadows, Close beneath its foot retir'd, Fainting sunk the bleeding hero, And without a groan expir'd. 60 ALCANZOR AND ZAIDA. 169 *** In the Spanish original of the foregoing I The image of the " Lion" &c, in ver. 37. ballad, follow a few more stanzas, but being is taken from the other Spanish copy, the of inferior merit were not translated. " Renegade" properly signifies an Apos- cate ; but it is sometimes used to express an Infidel in general; as it seems to do above in ver. 21, &c. rhymes of which end in " ia" viz. " Sayavedra, que lo oyera Como un leon rebolbia. XVII. JULtattj0r anJr gaita, A MOORISH TALE, IMITATED FROM THE SPANISH. The foregoing version was rendered as liter- al as the nature of the two languages would admit. In the following a wider compass hath been taken. The Spanish poem that was chiefly had in view, is preserved in the same history of the civil wars of Granada, f. 22, and begins with these lines : " Por la calle de su dama Passeando se anda, &c." Softly blow the evening breezes, Softly fall the dews of night ; Yonder walks the Moor Alcanzor, Shunning every glare of light. In yon palace lives fair Zaida, 5 Whom he loves with flame so pure : Loveliest she of Moorish ladies ; He a young and noble Moor. Waiting for the appointed minute, Oft he paces to and fro ; 10 Stopping now, now moving forwards, Sometimes quick, and sometimes slow. Hope and fear alternate seize him, Oft he sighs with heart-felt care. See, fond youth, to yonder window 15 Softly steps the timorous fair. Lovely seems the moon's fair lustre To the lost benighted swain, When all silvery bright she rises, Gilding mountain, grove, and plain. 20 Lovely seems the sun's full glory To the fainting seaman's eyes, When some horrid storm dispersing O'er the wave his radiance flies. But a thousand times more lovely 25 To her longing lover's sight, Steals half seen the beauteous maiden Thro' the glimmerings of the night. Tip-toe stands the anxious lover, Whispering forth a gentle sigh : 3C Alia* keep thee, lovely lady ; Tell me, am I doom'd to die ? Is it true the dreadful story, Which thy damsel tells my page, That seduc'd by sordid riches 35 • Thou wilt sell thy bloom to age ? An old lord from Antiquera Thy stern father brings along ; But canst thou, inconstant Zaida, Thus consent my love to wrong ? 40 If 'tis true now plainly tell me, Nor thus trifle with my woes ; Hide not then from me the secret, Which the world so clearly knows. Deeply sigh'd the conscious maiden, 45 While the pearly tears descend : Ah ! my lord, too true the story ; Here our tender loves mv*st end. Our fond friendship is discover'd, Well are known our mutual vows : 50 All my friends are full of fury ; Storms of passion shake the house. * Alia is the Mahometan name of God. 170 ALCANZOR AND ZATDA. Threats, reproaches, fears surround me ; My stern father breaks my heart: Alia knows how dear it costs me, 55 Generous youth, from thee to part. Ancient wounds of hostile fury Lung have rent our house and thine ; Why then did thy shining merit Win this tender heart of mine ? 60 Well thou know'st how dear I lov'd thee Spite of all their hateful pride, Tho' I lear'd my haughty father Ne'er would let me be thy bride. Well thou know'st what cruel chidings 65 Oft I've from my mother borne ; What I've suffer'd here to meet thee Still at eve and early morn. I no longer may resist them : All, to force my hand combine ; 70 And to-morrow to thy rival This weak frame I must resign. Yet think not thy faithful Zaida Can survive so great a wrong ; Well my breaking heart assures me 75 That my woes will not be long. Farewell then, my dear Alcanzor ! Farewell too my life with thee ! Take this scarf a parting token ; When thou wear'st it think on me. 80 Soon, lov'd youth, some worthier maiden Shall reward thy generous truth : Sometimes tell her how thy Zaida Died for thee in prime of youth. — To him all amaz'd, confounded, 85 Thus she did her woes impart : Deep he sigh'd, then cry'd, — Zaida! Do not, do not break my heart. Canst thou think I thus will lose thee? Canst thou hold my love so small ? 90 No ! a thousand times I'll perish ! My curst rival too shall fall. Canst thou, wilt thou yield thus to them ? O break forth, and fly to me ! This fond heart shall bleed to save thee, 95 These fond arms shall shelter thee. 'Tis in vain, in vain, Alcanzor, Spies surround me, bars secure: Scarce I steal this last dear moment, While my damsel keeps the door. 100 Hark, I hear my father storming ! Hark, I hear my mother chide! I must go : farewell for ever ! Gracious Alia be thy guide ! THE END OF THE THIRD BOOK. RICHARD OF ALMAIGNE. 171 SERIES THE SECOND. BOOK I. Though some make slight of Libels, yet you may see by them how the wind sits: As, take a straw and throw it up into the air, you may see by that which way the wind is, which you shall not do by casting up a stone. More solid things do not show the complexion of the times so well as Ballads and Libels. Selden's Table-talk. $uftarJr 0f Jllmaipt " A ballad made by one of the adherents to Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, soon after the battle of Lewes, which was fought May 14, 1264," — affords a curious specimen of ancient satire, and shows that the liberty, assumed by the good people of this realm, of abusing their kings and princes at pleasure, is a pri- vilege of very long standing. To render this antique libel intelligible, the reader is to understand that just before the battle of Lewes, which proved so fatal to the interests of Henry III., the barons had offered his brother Richard King of the Ro- mans 30,000?. to procure a peace upon such terms as would have divested Henry of all his regal power, and therefore the treaty proved abortive. The consequences of that battle are well known : the king, prince Edward his son, his brother Richard, and many of his friends, fell into the hands of their enemies ; while two great barons of the king's party, John Earl of Warren, and Hugh Bigot the king's Justiciary, had been glad to escape into France. In the 1st stanza the aforesaid sum of thirty thousand pounds is alluded to ; but, with the usual misrepresentation of party malevolence, is asserted to have been the ex- orbitant demand of the king's brother. With regard to the 2d stanza the reader is to note that Richard, along with the earldom of Cornwall, had the honours of Wallingford and Eyre confirmed to him on his marriage with Sanchia, daughter of the Count of Pro- vence, in 1243 — Windsor Castle was the chief fortress belonging to the king, and had been garrisoned by foreigners : a circumstance which furnishes out the burthen of each stanza. The 3d stanza alludes to a remarkable cir- cumstance which happened on the day of the battle of Lewes. After the battle was lost, Richard King of the Romans took refuge in a windmill, which he barricadoed, and main- tained for some time against the barons, but in the evening was obliged to surrender. S^e a very full account of this in the Chronicle of Mailros ; Oxon. 1684, p. 229. The 4th stanza is of obvious interpretation: Richard, who had been elected King of the Romans in 1256, and had afterwards gone over to take possession of his dignity, was in the year 1259 about to return into England, when the barons raised a popular clamour that he was bringing with him foreigners to overrun the kingdom: upon which he was forced to dismiss almost all his followers, otherwise the barons would have opposed his landing. In the 5th stanza the writer regrets the escape of the Earl of Warren ; and in the 6th and 7th stanzas insinuates, that, if he and Sir Hugh Bigot once fell into the hands of their adversaries they should never more return home ; a circumstance which fixes the date of this ballad ; for in the year 1265, both these noblemen landed in South Wales, and the royal party soon after gained the ascend- ant. See Holinshed, Rapin, &c. The following is copied from a very ancient MS. in the British Museum. [Ilarl. MSS. 2253, s. 23.] This MS. is judged, from the peculiarities of the writing, to be not later than the time of Richard II. ; tli being every where expressed by the character p ; the y 172 ON THE DEATH OF KING EDWARD THE FIRST. is pointed after the Saxon manner, and the i hath an oblique stroke over it. SiTTETn alle stille, ant herkneth to me ; The Kvng of Alemaigne, bi mi leaute, Thritti thousent pound askede he For te make the pees in the countre, Ant so he dude more. 5 Richard, thah thou be ever trichard, Tricthen shalt thou never more. Richard of Alemaigne, whil that he wes kying, He spende al is tresour opon swyvyng, Haveth he nout of Walingford oferlyng, 10 Let him habbe, ase he brew, bale to dryng, Maugre Wyndesore. Richard, thah thou be ever, &c. The kyng of Alemaigne wende do ful wel He saisede the mulne for a castel, 15 With hare sharpe swerdes he grounde the stel, He wende that the sayles were mangonel To helpe Wyndesore. Richard, thah thou be ever, &c. The kyng of Alemaigne gederede ys host, 20 Makede him a castel of a mulne post, Wende with is prude, ant is muchele bost, Brohte from Alemayne mony sori gost To store Wyndesore. Richard, thah thou be ever, &c. 25 By God, that is aboven ous, he dude muche synne, That lette passen over see the Erl of Warynne : He hath robbed Engelond, the mores, ant th fenne, The gold, ant the selver, and y-boren henne, For love of Wyndesore. 30 Richard, thah thou be ever, &c. Ver. 2, kyn, MS. Sire SimonddeMountfort hath suorebiyschyM; Hevede he nou here the Erl of Waryn, Shuld he never more come to ys yn, Ne with shelde, ne with spere, ne with other gyn, 35 To help of Wyndesore. Richard, thah thou be ever, &c. Sire Simond de Montfort hath suore bi ys cop Hevede he nou here Sire Hue de Bigot: Al he shulde grante here twelfmoneth scot Shulde he never more with his sot pot 41 To helpe Wyndesore. Richard, thah thou be ever, &c. Be the luef, be the loht, sire Edward, Thou shalt ride sporeless o thy lyard 45 Al the ryhte way to Dovere-ward, Shalt thou never more breke foreward ; Ant that reweth sore Edward, thou dudest as a shreward, Forsoke thyn ernes lore 50 Richard, &c. *** This ballad will rise in its importance with the reader, when he finds that it is even believed to have occasioned a law in our Sta- tute Book, viz. " Against slanderous reports or tales, to cause discord betwixt king and people." (Westm. Primer, c. 34, anno 3. Edw. I.) That it had this effect, is the opin- ion of an eminent writer : See " Observations upon the Statutes, &c," 4to., 2d edit. 1766, p. 71. However, in the Harl. Collection may be found other satirical and defamatory rhymes of the same age, that might have their share in contributing to this first law against libels. Ver. 40, g'te here, MS., i. e. grant their. Vid. Gloss. V 44, This stanza was omitted in the former editions. II. ©it % gratfe tsi fling (Jbtoarfc % first We have here an early attempt at elegy. Edward I. died July 7, 1307. in the thirty- fifth year of his reign, and sixty-ninth of his age. This poem appears to have been com- posed soon after his death. According to the modes of thinking peculiar to those times, the writer dwells more upon his devotion than his skill in government ; and pays less attention to the martial and political abilities of this great monarch, in which he had no equal, than to some little weaknesses of su- perstition, which he had in common with all ON THE DEATH OF KING EDWARD THE FIRST. 173 his contemporaries. The king had in the decline of life vowed an expedition to the Holy Land ; but finding his end approach, he dedicated the sum of 32,000Z. to the mainten- ance of a large body of knights (one hundred and forty say historians, eighty says our poet), who were to carry his heart with them into Palestine. This dying command of the king was never performed. Onr poet, with the honest prejudices of an Englishman, at- tributes this failure to the advice of the King of France, whose daughter Isabel, the young monarch who succeeded immediately married. But the truth is Edward and his destructive favourite Piers Gaveston spent the money upon, their pleasures. — To do the greater hon- ous to the memory of his hero, our poet puts his eloge in the mouth of the Pope, with the same poetic license, as a more modern bard would have introduced Britannia, or the Ge- nius of Europe pouring forth his praises. This antique elegy is extracted from the same MS. volume as the preceding article ; is found with the same peculiarities of writing and orthography ; and, though written at near the distance of half a century, contains little or no variation of idiom : whereas the next following poem by Chaucer, which was pro- bably written not more than fifty or sixty years after this, exhibits almost a new lan- guage. This seems to countenance the opin- ion of some antiquaries, that this great poet made considerable innovations in his mother tongue, and introduced many terms and new modes of speech from other languages. Alle, that beoth of huerte trewe, A stounde herkneth to my song Of duel, that Deth hath diht us newe, That maketh me syke, ant sorewe among ; Of a knyht, that wes so strong, 5 Of wham God hath don ys wille ; Me-thuncheth that deth hath don us wrong, That he so sone shall ligge stille. Al Englond ahte for te knowe Of wham that song is, that y synge ; 10 Of Edward kyng, that lith so love, Zent al this world is nome con springe : Trewest mon of alle thinge, Ant in werre war ant wys, For him we ahte oure hounden wrynge, 15 Of Christendome he ber the prys. Byfore that oure kyng was ded, He spek ase mon that wes in care, " Clerkes, knyhtes, barons, he sayde, Y charge ou by oure aware, 20 That ye to Engelonde be trewe. Y deze, y ne may lyven na more ; Helpeth mi sone, ant crouneth him newe, For he is nest to buen y-core. Ich biqueth myn herte arhyt, 25 That hit be write at my devys, Over the see that Hue* be diht, With fourscore knyhtes al of prys, In werre that buen war ant wys, Azein the hethene for te fyhte, - 30 To wynne the croiz that lowe lys, Myself ycholde zef that y myhte/ Kyng of Fraunce, thou hevedest ' sinne, That thou the counsail woldest fonde, To latte the wille of ' Edward kyng' 35 To wende to the holy londe : That oure kyng hede take on honde All Engelond to zeme ant wysse, To wenden in to the holy londe To wynnen us heveriche blisse. 40 \ The messager to the pope com, And seyde that our kynge was ded: Ys oune hond the lettre he nom, Ywis his herte was full gret : The Pope him self the lettre redde, 45 Ant spec a word of gret honour. Alas ! he seid, is Edward ded ! Of Christendome he ber the flour." The Pope to is chaumbre wende, For dol ne mihte, he speke na more ; 50 Ant after cardinals he sende, That muche couthen of Cristes lore, Bothe the lasse, ant eke the more, Bed hem bothe rede ant synge : Gret deol me myhte se thore, 55 Mony mon is honde wrynge. The Pope of Peyters stod at is masse With ful gret solempnete, Ther me con the soule blesse : " Kyng Edward honoured thou be: 60 * The name of the person who was to preside over this business. Ver. 33, sunne, MS. Ver. 35, Kyng Edward, MS. Ver 43, ys is probably a contraction of in hys or yn his. Ver. 55, 59, Me, i. e. Men ; so in Robert of Gloucester ] 174 AN ORIGINAL BALLAD BY CHAUCER. God love thi sone come after the, Bringe to ende that thou hast bygonne, The holy crois y-mad of tre, So fain thou wouldest hit hav y-wonne. Jerusalem, thou hast i-lore 65 The flour of al chivalrie Now* kyng Edward liveth na more: Alas ! that he zet shulde deye ! He wolde ha rered up full heyze Oure banners, that brueth broht to grounde ; Wei ! longe we mowe clepe and crie 70 Er we a such kyng han .y-founde." Nou is Edward of Carnarvan King of Engelond al aplyht, God lete him ner be worse man Then his fader, ne lasse of myht, 75 To holden is pore men to ryht, And understonde good counsail, Al Engelond for to wysse ant dyht; Of gude knyhtes darn him nout fail. Thah mi tonge were mad of stel, 80 Ant min,herte yzote of bras, The godness myht y never telle, That with kyng Edward was : Kyng, as thou art cleped conquerour, In uch bataille thou hadest prys ; 85 God bringe thi soule to the honour, That ever wes, ant ever ys. *#* Here follow in the original three lines more, which, as seemingly redundant, we choose to throw to the bottom of the page, viz. That lasteth ay withouten ende, Bidde we God ant oure Ledy to thilke blisse Jesus us sende. Amen. III. $n ©ripal gaM bg CIpta;, This little sonnet, which hath escaped all the editors of Chaucer's works, is now printed for the first time from an ancient MS. in the Pepysian library, that contains many other poems of its venerable author. The versifi- cation is of that species, which the French call Rondeau, very naturally Englished by our honest countrymen Round 0. Though so early adopted by them, our ancestors had not the honour of inventing it: Chaucer picked it up, along with other better things, among the neighbouring nations. A fond- ness for laborious trifles hath always prevailed in the dark ages of literature. The Greek poets have had their wings and axes : the great father of English poesy may therefore be pardoned one poor solitary rondeau. — Geofrey Chaucer died Oct. 25, 1400, aged 72. I. 1. Youre two eyn will sle me sodenly, I may the beaute of them not sustene, So wendeth it thorowout my herte kene. 2. And but your words will helen hastely My hertis wound, while that it is grene, Youre two eyn will sle me sodenly. Upon my trouth I sey yow feithfully, That ye ben of my liffe and deth the quene, For with my deth the trouth shal be sene. Youre two eyn, &c. II. 1. So hath youre beauty fro your herte chased Pitee, that me n' availeth not to pleyn ; For daunger halt your mercy in his cheyne. 2. Giltless my deth thus have ye purchased ; I sey yow soth, me nedeth not to fayn : So hath your beaute fro your herte chased. 3. Alas, that nature hath in yow compassed So grete beaute, that no man may atteyn To mercy, though he sterve for the peyn. So hath youre beaute, &c. III. 1. Syn I fro love escaped am so fat I nere thinke to ben in his prison lene; Syn I am fre, I counte him not a bene. THE TURNAMENT OF TOTTENHAM. 175 2. He may answere, and sey this and that, I do no fors, I speak ryght as I mene ; Syn I fro' love escaped am so fat. 3. Love hath my name i-strike out of his sclat, And he is strike out of my bokes clene: For ever mo ' ther'* is non other mene. Syn I fro love escaped, &c. IV. %\t tenamtnt ai %Mm\m : " OR THE WOOEING, WINNING, AND WEDDING OF TIBBE, THE REEV's DAUGHTER THERE. It does honour to the good sense of this nation that while all Europe was captivated with the bewitching charms of Chivalry and Romance, two of our writers in the rudest times could see through the false glare that surrounded them, and discover whatever was absurd in them both. Chaucer wrote his Rhyme of Sir Thopas in ridicule of the latter; and in the following poem we have a humor- ous burlesque of the former. Without pre- tending to decide whether the institution of chivalry was upon the whole useful or per- nicious in the rude ages, a question that has lately employed many good writers,* it evi- dently encouraged a vindictive spirit, and gave such force to the custom of duelling, that there is little hope of its being abolished. This, together with the fatal consequences which often attended the diversion of the Turnament, was sufficient to render it ob- noxious to the graver part of mankind. Ac- cordingly the church early denounced its censures against it, and the state was often prevailed on to attempt its suppression. But fashion and opinion are superior to au- thority : and the proclamations against tilt- ing were as little regarded in those times, as the laws against duelling are in these. This did not escape the discernment of our poet, who easily perceived that inveterate opinions must be attacked by other weapons, besides proclamations and censures : he accordingly made use of the keen one of Ridicule. With this view he has here introduced with admi- * See [Mr. Kurd's] Letters on Chivalry, 8vo. 1762. Me- moires de la Chevalerie, par M. de la Curne des Palais, 1759, 2 torn. 12mo., &c. 2'6 rable humour a parcel of clowns, imitating all the solemnities of the Tourney. Here we have the regular challenge — the appointed day — the lady for the prize — the formal pre- parations — the display of armour — the scutch- eon s and devices — the oaths taken on enter- ing the lists — the various accidents of the en- counter — the victor leading off the prize — and the magnificent feasting — with all the other solemn fopperies that usually attended the pompous Turnament. And how acutely the sharpness of the author's humour must have been felt in those days, we may learn from what we can perceive of its keenness now, when time has so much blunted the edge of his ridicule. The Turnament of Tottenham was first printed from an ancient MS. in 1631, 4to., by the Rev. Wilhem Bedwell, rector of Totten- ham, who was one of the translators of the Bible, and afterwards Bishop of Kilmore in Ireland, where he lived and died with the highest reputation of sanctity, in 1641. He tells us, it was written by Gilbert Pilkington, thought to have been some time parson of the same parish, and author of another piece, en- titled Passio Domini Jesu Chrisli. Bedwell, who was eminently skilled in the oriental and other languages, appears to have been but little conversant with the ancient writers in his own ; and he so little entered into the spirit of the poem he was publishing, that he contends for its being a serious narrative of a real event, and thinks it must have been written before the time of Edward III., be- cause Turnaments were prohibited in that * This. MS. 176 THE TURNAMENT OF TOTTENHAM. reign. " I do verily believe," says he, " that this Turnament was acted before this procla- mation of King Edward. For how durst any to attempt to do that, although in sport, which was so straightly forbidden, both by the civill and ecclesiasticall power? For al- though they fought not with lances, yet, as our author sayth, ' It was no childrens game/ And what would have become of him, thinke you, which should have slayne another in this manner of geasting ? Would he not, trow you, have been hang'd for it in earnest? yea, and have bene buried like a dogge V It is, however, well known that Turnaments were in use down to the reign of Elizabeth. In the first editions of this work, Bedwell's copy was reprinted here, with some few con- jectural emendations ; but as Bedwell seem- ed to have reduced the orthography at least, if not the phraseology, to the standard of his own time, it was with great pleasure that the Editor was informed of an ancient MS. copy preserved in the Museum [Harl. MSS. 5396], which appeared to have been transcri- bed in the reign of King Hen. YI. about 1456. This obliging information the Editor owed to the friendship of Thomas Tyrwhit, Esq., and he has chiefly followed that more authentic transcript, improved however by some read- ings from Bedwell's Book. Of all thes kene conquerours to carpe it were kynde ; Of fele feyztyng folk ferly we fynde, The Turnament of Totenham have we in mynde ; It were harme sych hardynes were holden byhynde, In story as we rede 5 Of Hawkyn, of Herry, Of Tomkyn, of Terry, Of them that were dughty And stalworth in dede. It befel in Totenham on a dere day, 10 Ther was mad a shurtyng be the hy-way : Tinder com al the men of the contray, Of Hyssylton, of Hy-gate, and of Hakenay, And all the swete swynkers. Ther hopped Ilawkyn, 15 Ther daunsed Dawkyn, Ther trumped Tomkyn, And all were trewe drynkers. Tyl the day was gon and evyn-song past, That thay schuld reckyn ther scot and ther counts cast ; Perkyn the potter into the press past, 21 And sayd Randol the refe, a dozter thou hast, Tyb the dere : Therfor faine wyt wold I, Whych of all thys bachelery 25 Were best worthye To wed hur to hys fere. Upstyrtthosgadelyngys wyth ther lang staves, And sayd, Randol the refe, lo ! thys lad raves ; Boldely amang us thy dozter he craves ; 30 We er rycher men than he, and more gode haves Of cattell and corn ; Then sayd Perkyn, To Tybbe I have hyzt That I schal be alway redy in my ryzt, If that it schuld he thys day sevenyzt, Or elles zet to morn. 36 Then sayd Randolfe the refe, Ever be he waryd That about thys carpyng lenger wold be taryd : I wold not my dozter, that scho were miscaryd, But at hur most worschip I wold scho were maryd ; Therfor a Turnament schal begynne 41 Thys day sevenyzt, — Wy th a flayl for to fyzt : And ' he,' that is most of myght Schal brouke hur wyth wynne. 45 Whoso berys hym best in the turnament, Hym schal be granted the gre be the comon assent, For to wynne my dozter wyth ' dughtynesse' of dent, And ' coppelP my brode-henne ' that' was brozt out of Kent : And my dunnyd kowe 50 For no spens wyl I spare, For no cattell wyl I care, He schall have my gray mare, And my spottyd sowe. Ter. 20, It is not very clear in the MS. -whether it should be cont or conters. Ver. 48, dozty, MS. Ver. 49, coppled. We still use the phrase, " a copple-crowned hen." THE TURNAMENT OF TOTTENHAM. 177 Ther was many ' a' bold lad ther bodyes to bede : 55 Than thay toke thayr leve, and hornward they zede ; And all the weke afterward graythed ther wede, v Tyll it come to the day, that thay suld do ther dede. They armed ham in matts ; Thay set on ther nollys, 60 For to kepe ther pollys, Gode blake bollys, For batryng of bats. Thay sowed them in schepeskynnes, for thay schuld not brest : Ilk-on toke a blak hat, insted of a crest: 65 1 A basket or a panyer before on ther brest/ And a flayle in ther hande ; for to fyght prest, Furth gon thay fare : Ther was kyd mekyl fors Who schuld best fend hys cors : 70 He that had no gode hors, He gat hym a mare. Sych another gadryng have I not sene oft, "When all the gret company com rydand to the croft. Tyb on a gray mare was set up on loft 75 On a sek ful of fedyrs, for scho schuld syt soft, And led ' till the gap/ For cryeng of the men Forther wold not Tyb then, Tyl scho had hur brode hen 80 Set in hur Lap. A gay gyrdyl Tyb had on, borowed for the nonys, And a garland on hur hed ful of rounde bonys, And a broche on hur brest ful of ' sapphyre' stonys ; Wyth the holy-rode tokenyng, was wrotyn for the nonys ; 85 For no ' spendings' thay had spared. Ter. 57, gayed. P. C. V. 66 is wanting in MS., and sup- plied from. P. C. V. 72, He borrowed -him, P. C. V. 76, The MS. had once sedys, i. e. so.ads, which appears to have hoon altered to fedyrs, or feathers. Bedwell's copy has Senvy. i. e. Mu«tard-seed. V. 77, And led hur to cap, MS. V. S3. Pedwell's P. C. has " Ruel-Bones." V. 84, safer stones, MS. V. 85, wrotyn, i. e. wrought, P. C. reads written. V. 56, No catel [perhips chatel] they had spared, MS. When joly Gyb saw hur thare, He gyrd so hys gray mare, ' That scho lete a fowkin' fare At the rereward. 90 I -wow to God, quoth Kerry, I schal not lefe behynde, May I mete wyth Bernard on Bayard the blynde, Ich man kepe hym out of my wynde, For whatsoever that he be, before me I fynde, I wot I schall hym greve. 95 Wele sayd, quoth Hawkyn. And I wow, quoth Dawkyn, May I mete wyth Tomkyn, Hys flayle I schal hym reve. I make a vow, quoth Hud, Tyb, son schal thou se, 100 Whych of all thys bachelery ' granted' is the gre: I schal scomfet thaym all, for the love of the ; In what place so I come they schal have dout of me, Myn armes ar so clere: I bere a reddyl, and a rake, 105 Poudred wyth a brenand drake, And three cantells of a cake In ycha cornere. I vow to God, quoth Hawkyn, yf ' F have the gowt, Al that I fynde in the felde ' thrustand here aboute, 110 Have I twyes or thryes redyn thurgh the route, In ycha stede ther thay me se, of me thay schal have doute. When I begyn to play. I make avowe that I ne schall, But yf Tybbe wyl me call, 115 Or I be thryes don fall, Ryzt onys com away. Then sayd Terry, and he swore be hys crecle ; Saw thou never yong boy forther hys body bede, 119 For when thay fyzt fastest and most ar in drede, I schall take Tyb by the hand, and hur away lede: V. 89, Then . . . faucon, MS. V. 101, grant, MS. V. 109. yf he have, MS. V. 110. the MS. literally has thr. sand bere. 178 THE TURNAMENT OF TOTTENHAM. I am armed at the full ; In myn amirs I here wele A doz trogh, and a pele, A sadyll wythout a panell, Wyth a fles of woll. 125 I make a vow, quoth Dudman, and swore be the stra, WTiyls me ys left my ' mare/ thou gets hurr not swa ; For scho ys wele schapen, and lizt as the rae, Iher is no capul in thys myle befor hur schal ga ; " 130 Sche wul ne nozt begyle : Sche wyl me bere, I dar say, On a lang somerys day, Fro Hyssylton to Hakenay, Nozt other half myle. 135 I make a vow, quoth Perkyn, thow speks of cold rost, I schal wyrch 'wysclyer' without any bost: Five of the best capulys, that ar in thys ost, I wot I schal thaym wynne, and bryng thaym to my cost, And here I grant thaym Tybbe. 140 Wele boyes here ys he, That wyl fyzt, and not fle, For I am in my jolyte, Wyth so forth, Gybbe. When thay had ther vowes made, furth can thay hie, 145 Wyth flayles, and homes, and trumpes mad of tre : Ther were all the bachelerys of that con tre ; Thay were dyzt in aray, as thaymselfes wold be: Thayr baners were ful bryzt Of an old rotten fell ; 150 The cheveron of a plow-mell ; And the schadow of a bell, Poudred wyth the mone lyzt. I wot yt ' was' ne chylder game, whan thay togedyr met, 154 When icha freke in the feld on hys feloy bet, And layd on sty fly, for nothyng wold thay let, And foght ferly fast, tyll ther horses swet, And few wordys spoken. Ther were flayles al to slatred, Ther wer scheldys al to flatred, 160 Ver. 12S, merth, MS. V. 137, swyselior, MS. V. 146, flailes, and harnisse, P. C. V. 151, The Chiefe, P. C. 1. 154, yt yg, MS. Bollys and dysches al to schatred, And many hedys brokyn. There was clynkyng of cart-sade lys, and clatteryng of Cannes ; Of fele frekys in the feld brokyn were their fannes ; Of sum were the hedys brokyn, of sum the brayn-pannes, And yll were thay besene, or tnay went thanns, 1C6 Wyth swyppyng of swepyls : Thay were so wery for-foght, Thay myzt not fyzt mare oloft, But creped about in the ' croft,' 170 As thay were croked crepyls. Perkyn was so wery, that he began to loute ; Help, Hud, I am ded in thys ylk rowte : An hors for forty pens, a gode and a stoute! That I may lyztly come of my noye oute, For no cost wyl I spare. 176 He styrt up as a snale, And hent a capul be the tayle, And 'reft' Dawkin hys flayle, And wan there a mare. 180 Perkyn wan five, and Hud wan twa: Glad and blythe thay ware, that they had don sa; Thay wold have tham to Tyb, and present hur with tha : The Capulls were so wery, that thay myzt not ga, But styl gon they stond. 185 Alas ! quoth Hudde, my joye I lese ; Mee had lever then a ston of chese, That dere Tyb had al these, And wyst it were my sond. Perkyn turnyd hym about in that ych thrang Among thos wery boyes he wrest and he wrang ; 191 He threw tham doun to the erth, and thrast tham amang, • When he saw Tyrry away wyth Tyb fang, And after hym ran ; Off his horse he hym drogh, 195 And gaf hym of hys flayl inogh : We te be ! quoth Tyb, and lugh, Ye er a dughty man. Yer. 168, The boyes were, MS. V. 170. creped then about in the croft, MS. V. 179, razt, MS. V. 185, stand. MS. V. 189, sand, MS. FOR THE VICTORY AT AGINCOURT. 179 Thus' thay tugged, and rugged, tyl yt was nere nyzt: All the wyves of Tottenham came to se that syzt 200 Wyth wyspes, and kexis, and ryschys there lyzt, To fetch horn ther husbandes, that were tham trouth plyzt ; And sum brozt gret harwos, Ther husbandes hom to fetch, Sum on dores, and sum on hech, 205 Sum on hyrdyllys, and som on crech, And sum on whele-barows. Thay gaderyd Perkyn about, 'on' everych syde, And grant hym ther ' the gre/ the more was hys pryde : Tyb and he, wyth gret ' mirth' homward con thay ryde, 210 And were al nyzt togedyr, tyl the morn tyde; And thay 'to church went:' So wele hys nedys he has sped, That dere Tyb he ' hath' wed ; The prayse-folk, that hur led, 215 Were of the Turnament. To that ylk fest com many for the nones ; Some come hyphalte, and some trippand ' thither* on the stonys : Sum a staf in hys hand, and sum two at onys ; Of sum where the hedes broken, of some the schulder bonys ; 220 With sorrow come thay thedyr. Wo was Hawkyn, wo was Herry, Wo was Tomkyn, wo was Terry, And so was all the bachelary, When thay met togedyr. 225 *At that fest thay wer servyd with a ryche aray, Every fyve & fyve had a cokenay ; And so thay sat in jolyte al the lung day ; And at the last thay went to bed with ful gret deray : Mekyl myrth was them among; 233 In every corner of the hous Was melody delycyous For to here precyus Of six menys song.f V. for % Dldjorrjr at ^giraurt Tiiat our plain and martial ancestors could wield their swords much better than their pens, will appear from the following homely rhymes, which were drawn up by some poet laureat of those days to celebrate the immor- tal victory gained at Agincourt, Oct. 25, 1415. This song or hymn is given merely as a curi- osity, and is printed from a MS. copy in the Pepys collection, vol. I. folio. Deo gratias Anglia redde pro vide/ ia ! Owre kynge went forth to Normandy, With grace and myzt of chivalry ; The God for hym wrouzt marvelously, Wherefore Englonde may calle, and cry 5 Deo gratias : Deo gratias Anglia redde pro victoria. Yer. 199, Thys, MS. V. 20-t, hom for to fetch, MS. V. 208, about everych side, MS. V. 209. the gre, is wanting in MS. V. 210. paothe, MS. V. 212. And they if -re absent, MS. V. 214, had wed, MS. V. 215, The cheefemen, P. C. He sette a sege, the sothe for to say, To Harflue toune with ryal aray ; That toune he wan, and made a fray, 10 That Fraunce shall rywe tyl domes day. Deo gratias : &c. Then went owre kynge, with alle his oste, Thorowe Fraunce for all the Frenshe boste ; He spared ' for' drede of leste, ne most, 15 Tyl he come to Agincourt coste. Deo gratias, &c . Ver. 218, trippand on, MS. * In the former impressions, this concluding; stanza was only given from Bedwell's printed edition ; hut it is here copied from the old MS. wherein it has been since found separated from the rest of the poem, by several pages of a money-account, and other heterogeneous matter. t Six-men's song, i. e. a song for six voices. So Shakspeare uses Three-man song-men, in his Winters Tale, A. III. sc. 3, to denote men that could sing cat( hes composed for three voices. Of this sort are Weelkes's Madrigals mentioned below. Book II. Song 9. So again Shakspeare has Three' men Beetle. ; i. e. a Beetle or Rammer worked by three men 2 lien. IV. A. I. sc. 3. 180 THE NOT-BROWNE MAYD. Than for Bothe that knyzt comely In Agincourt feld he fauzt manly, Thorow grace of God most myzty 20 He had bothe the felde, and the victory. Deo gratias, &c. Ther dukys, and erlys, lorde and barone, Were take, and slayne, and that wel sone, And some were ledde in to Lundone 25 With joye,. and merthe, and grete renone. Deo gratias, &c. Now gracious God he save OAvre kynge, His peple, and all his wel wyllynge, Gef him gode lyfe, and gode endynge, That we with merth mowe savely synge Deo gratias : Deo gratias Anglia redde pro victoria. 3C VI. %\t l0t-§r0to^ fftanfc The sentimental beauties of this ancient ballad have always recommended it to readers of taste, notwithstanding the rust of antiquity which obscures the style and expression. Indeed, if it had no other merit than the having afforded the ground-work to Prior's " Henry and Emma," this ought to preserve it from oblivion. That we are able to give it in so correct a manner, is owing to the great care and exactness of the accurate Editor of the "Prolusions/' 8vo., 1760; who has formed the text from two copies found in two differ- ent editions of Arnolde's Chronicle, a book supposed to be first printed about 1521. From the copy in the Prolusions the follow- ing is printed, with a few additional improve- ments gathered from another edition of Ar- nolde's book* preserved in the Public Li- brary at Cambridge. All the various read- ings of this copy will be found here, either received into the text, or noted in the margin. The references to the Prolusions will show where they occur. In our ancient folio MS. described in the preface, is a very corrupt and defective copy of this ballad, which yet afforded a great improvement in one passage. See v. 310. It has been a much easier task to settle the text of this poem, than to ascertain its date. The ballad of the ■■ Nutbrowne Mayd" * This (which my friend Mr. Farmer supposes to be the first, edition) is in folio: the folios are numbered at the bottom of the leaf; the Son'.'- begins at folio 75. The poem has since been collated with a very fine copy that was in the collection of the late James West, Esq.: the readings extracted thence are denoted thus. 'Mr. W.' was first revived in " The Muses Mercury for June, 1707," 4to., being prefaced with a little "Essay on the old English Poets and Poetry :" in which this poem is concluded to be "near 300 years old," upon reasons which, though they appear inconclusive to us now, were sufficient to determine Prior ; who there first met with it. However, this opinion had the approbation of the learned Wanley, an excellent judge of ancient books. For that whatever related to the reprinting of this old piece was referred to Wanley, appears from two letters of Prior's preserved in the British Museum. [Harl. MSS. No. 3777.] The Edi- tor of the Prolusions thinks it cannot be older than the year 1500, because, in Sir Thomas More's Tale of "The Serjeant," &c, which was written about that time, there appears a sameness of rhythmus and orthography, and a very near affinity of words and phrases', with those of this ballad. But this reasoning is not conclusive ; for if Sir Thomas More made this ballad his model, as is very likely, that will account for the sameness of measure, and in some respect for that of words and phrases, even though this had been written long before : and, as for the orthography, it is well known that the old printers reduced that of most books to the standard of their own times. Indeed, it is hardly probable that an antiquary like Arnolde would have inserted it among his historical collections, if it had been then a modern piece ; at least, he would have been apt to have named its author. But to show how little can be in- THE NOT-BROWNE MA YD. 181 ferred from a resemblance of rhythmus or style, the editor of these volumes has in his ancient folio MS. a poem on the victory of Floddenfield, written in tne same numbers, with the same alliterations, and in orthogra- phy, phraseology, and style nearly resembling the Visions of Pierce Plowman, which are yet known to have been composed above 160 years before that battle. As this poem is a great curiosity, we shall give a few of the in- troductory lines : " Grant, gracious God, grant me this time, That I may 'say, or I cease, thy selven to please ; And Mary his mother, that maketh this world ; And all the seemlie saints, that sitten in heaven ; I will carpe of kings, that conquered full wide, That* dwelled in this land, that was alyes noble ; Henry the seventh, that soveraigne lord, &c. With regard to the date of the following ballad, we have taken a middle course, neither placed it so high as Wanley and Prior, nor quite so low as the editor of the Prolusions : we should have followed the lat- ter in dividing every other line into two, but that the whole would then have taken up more room than could be allowed it in this volume. Be it ryght, or wrong, these men among On women do complayne ;* Affyrmynge this, how that it is A labour spent in vayne, To love them wele ; for never a dele 5 They love a man agayne : For late a man do what he can, Theyr favour to attayne, Yet, yf a newe do them persue, Theyr first true lover than 10 Laboureth for nought : for from her thought He is a banyshed man. Ver. 2, woman. Prolusions, and Mr. West's copy. V. 11, her, i. e. their. * My friend, Mr. Farme, proposes to read the first lines thus, aH a Latinism : Be it right or wrong, 'tis men among, . On woman to complayne. * I say nat nay, but that all day It is bothe writ and sayd That womans faith is, as who sayth, 15 All utterly decayd ; But, neverthelesse ryght good wytnesse In this case might be layd, That they love true, and continue : Record e the Not-browne Mayde : 20 Which, when her love came, her to prove, To her to make his mone, Wolde nat depart ; for in her hart She loved but hym alone. Than betwaine us late us dyscus 25 What was all the manere Betwayne them two : we wyll also Tell all the payne, and fere, That she was in. Now I begyn So that ye me answere ; 30 Wherfore, all ye that present be I pray you, gyve an ere " I am the knyght ; I come by nyght, As secret as I can ; Sayinge, Alas ! thus standeth the case, 35 I am a banyshed man." And I your wyll for to fulfyll In this wyll nat refuse ; Trustying to shewe, in wordes fewe, That men have an yll use 40 (To theyr own shame) women to blame, And causelesse them accuse ; Therfore to you I answere nowe, All women to excuse, — Myne owne hart dere, with you what chere ? I pray you, tell anone ; 46 For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone. It standeth so ; a dede is do Whereof grete harme shall growe : My destiny is for to dy A shamefull deth, I trowe ; Or elles to fle: the one must be. None other way I knowe, But to withdrawe as an outlawe, And take me to my bowe. Wherfore, adue, my owne hart true ! None other rede I can ; For I must to the grene wode go. Alone, a banyshed man. 50 55 60 182 THE NOT-BROWNE MAYD. Lord, -what is thys worldys blysse, That changeth as the mone! My somers day in lusty may Is derked before the none. 1 here you say, farewell : Nay, nay, 65 We depart nat so sone. Why say ye so ? wheder wyll ye go ? Alas ! what have ye done ? All my welfare to sorrowe and care Sholde chaunge, yf ye were gone; 70 For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone. I can beleve, it shall you greve, And somewhat you dystrayne ; But, aftyrwarde, your paynes harde 75 Within a day or twayne Shall sone aslake; and ye shall take Comfort to you agayne. Why sholde ye ought? for, to make thought, Your labour were in vayne. 80 And thus I do ; and pray you to As hartely, as I can ; For I must to the grene wode go, Alone, a banyshed man. Now, syth that ye have shewed to me 85 The secret of your mynde, I shall be playne to you agayne, Lyke as ye shall me fynde. Syth it is so, that ye wyll go, I wolle not leve behynde : 90 Shall never be sayd, the Not-browne Mayd Was to her love unkynde : Make you redy, for so am I, Allthough it were anone ; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde 95 I love but you alone. Yet I you rede to take good hede What men wyll thynke, and say : Of yonge, and olde it shall be tolde, That ye be gona away, 100 Your wanton wyll for to fulfill, In grene wode you to play ; And that ye myght from your delyght No lenger make delay. Ver. 63, The somers, Prol. V. 91, Shall it never, Prol. and Mr. W. V. 94, Althought, Mr. W. Rather than ye sholde thus for me 105 Be called an yll woman, Yet wolde I to the grene wode go Alone, a banyshed man. Though it be songe of old and yonge, That I sholde be to blame, 110 Theyrs be the charge, that speke so large In hurtynge of my name : For I wyll prove, that faythfulle love It is devoyd of shame ; In your dystresse, and hevynesse, 115 To part with you, the same : And sure all tho, that do not so, True lovers are they none ; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone. 120 I counceyle you, remember howe, It is no may dens lawe, Nothynge to dout, but to renne out To wode with an outlawe : For ye must there in your hand bere 125 A bowe, redy to drawe ; And, as a thefe, thus must you lyve, Ever in drede and awe ; Wherby to you grete harme myght growe: Yet had I lever than, 130 That I had to the grene wode go, Alone, a banyshed man. I thinke nat nay, but as ye say, It is no maydens lore : But love may make me for your sake, 135 As I have sayd before To come on fote, to hunt, and shote To gete us mete in store ; For so that I your company May have, I aske no more : 140 From which to part, it maketh my hart As colde as ony stone ; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone. For an outlawe this is the lawe, That men hym take and bynde ; 145 Ver. 117, To shewe all. Prol. and Mr. W. V. 133, I say nat, Prol. and Mr. W. V. 138, and store, Camb. copy. THE NOT-BROWNE MA YD. 183 Without pyte, hanged to be, And waver with the wynde, If I had nede, (as God forbede !) What rescous coude ye fynde ? Forsoth, I trowe, ye and your bowe For fere wolde drawe behynde : And no mervayle ; for lytell avayle Were in your counceyle than : Wherfore I wyll to the grene wode go, Alone, a banyshed man. 150 155 Ryght wele knowe ye, that women be But feble for to fyght ; No womanhede it is indede To be bolde as a knyght : 160 Yet, in such fere yf that ye were With eneinyes day or nyght, I wolde withstande, with bowe in hande To grove them as I myght, And you to save ; as women have 165 From deth ' men' many one : For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone. Yet take good hede ; for ever I drede That ye coude nat sustayne 170 The thornie wayes, the depe valleies, The snowe, the frost, the rayne, The colde, the hete : for dry, or wete, We must lodge on the playne : And, us above, none other rofe 175 But a brake bush, or twayne : Which sone sholde greve you, I beleve ; And ye wolde gladly than That I had to the grene wode go, Alone, a banyshed man. 180 SHE. Syth I have here bene partynere With you of joy and blysse, I must also parte of your wo Endure, as reson is : Yet am I sure of one plesure 185 And, shortely, it is this : That, where ye be, me semeth, parde, I coude nat fare amysse. Without more speche, I you beseche That we were sone agone ; 190 Ver. 150. socours, Prol. and Mr. W. V. 162, and night, Camb. Copy. V. 164. to helpe ye with my myght, Prol. and Mr. W. V. 172, frost and i ayne. Mr. W. V. 171. Ye must, Prol. V. 190, shortley gone, Prol. and Mr. W. 24 For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone. If ye go thyder, ye must consyder, Whan ye have lust to dyne, There shall no mete be for you gete, 195 Nor drinke, bere, ale, ne wyne. No schetes clene, to lye bet wen e, Made of threde and twyne ; None other house, but leves and bowes, To cover your hed and myne. 200 O myne harte swete, this evyll dyete Sholde make you pale and wan ; Wherfore I wyll to the grene wode go, Alone, a banyshed man. SHE. Amonge the wylde dere, such an archere, As men say that ye be, 206 Ne may nat fayle of good vitayle, Where is so grete plente : And water clere of the ryv6re Shall be full swete to me ; 210 With which in hele I shall ryght wele Endure, as ye shall see ; And, or we go, a bedde or two I can provyde anone ; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde 215 I love but you alone. Lo yet, before, ye must do more, Yf ye wyll go with me : As cut your here up by your ere, Your kyrtel by the kne ; 220 With bowe in hande, for to withstande Your enemyes yf nede be : And this same nyght before day-lyght, To wode-warde wyll I fle. Yf that ye wyll all this fulfill, 225 Do it shortely as ye can : Els wyll I to the grene wode go, Alone, a banyshed man. SHE. I shall as no we do more for you Than longeth to womanhede ; 230 To shote my here, a bowe to bere, To shote in tyme of nede. Ver. 196, Neyther bere, Prol. and Mr. W. V. 201, Lo myn, Mr. W. Y. 207, May ye nat fayle, Prol. lb. May nat fayle, Mr. W. Y. 219. above your ere, Prol. Y. 220, above the kne, Prol. and Mr. W. V. 223, the same, Prol. and Mr. W. 184 THE NOT-BROWNE MAYD. my swete mother, before all other For you I have most drede: But nowe, adue ! I must ensue, Where fortune doth me lede. All this make ye: Now let us fle: The day comet h fast upon ; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love hut you alone. 235 240 Nay, nay, nat so ; ye shall nat go, And I shall tell ye why, Your appetyght is to be lyght Of love, I wele espy : For, lyke as ye have sayed to me, 245 In lyke wyse hardely Ye wolde an s were whosoever it were, In way of company. It is sayd of olde, Sone hote, sone colde ; And so is a woman. 250 Wherfore I to the wode wyll go, Alone, a banyshed man. Yf ye take hede, it is no nede Such wordes to say by me ; For oft ye prayed, and longe assayed, 255 Or I you loved, parde : And though that I of auncestry A barons daughter be, Yet have you proved howe I you loved A squyer of lowe degre ; 260 And ever shall, whatso befall ; To dy therfore* anone; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone. A barons chylde to be begylde ! 265 It were a cursed dede : To be felawe with an outlawe ! Almighty God forbede ! Yet beter were, the pore squyere Alone to forest yede, 270 Than ye sholde say another day, That, by my cursed dede, Ye were betray'd : Wherfore, good mayd, The best rede that I can, Is, that I to the grene wode go, 275 Alone, a banyshed man. Yer. 251, For I must to the grene wode go, Prol. and Mr. W. V. 253, yet is, Camb. Copy. Perhaps for yt is. V. 262, dy with him. Editor's MS. * i. e. for this cause . . though I were to die for haying toved you. Whatever befall, I never shall Of this thyng you upbrayd : But yf ye go, and leve me so, Then have ye me betrayd. 280 Remember you wele, howe that ye dele ; For, yf ye, as ye sayd, Be so unkynde, to leve behynde Your love, the Not-browne Mayd, Trust me truly, that I shall dy 285 Sone after ye be gone ; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone. Yf that ye went, ye sholde repent ; For in the forest nowe 290 I have purvayed me of a mayd, Whom I love more than you ; Another fayrere, than ever ye were, I dare it wele avowe ; And of ye bothe eche sholde be wrothe 295 With other, as I trowe : It were myne ese, to lyve in pese ; So wyll I, yf I can ; Wherfore I to the wode wyll go, Alone, a banyshed man. 300 Though in the wode I undyrstode Ye had a paramour, All this may nought remove my thought, But that I wyll be your : And she shall fynde me soft, and kynde, 305 And courteys every hour ; Glad to fulfyll all that she wyll Commaunde me to my power: For had ye, lo, an hundred mo, ' Of them I wolde be one ;' 310 For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone. Myne owne dere love, I se the prove That ye be kynde, and true : Of mayde, and wyfe, in all my lyfe, 315 The best that ever I knewe. Yer. 278, outbrayed, Prol. and Mr. W. V. 282, ye be as, Prol. and Mr. W. V. 283, Ye were unkynde to lev me behynde, Prol. and Mr. W. V. 310, So the Editor's MS. All the printed copies read : Yet wold I be that one. Yer. 315. of all, Prol and Mr. W. A BALET BY THE EARL RIVERS. 185 Be mery and glad, be no more sad, The case is chaunged newe ; For it were ruthe, that, for your truthe, Ye sholde have cause to rewe. 320 Be nat dismayed ; whatsoever I sayd To you, whan I began ; I wyll nat to the grene wode go, I am no banyshed man. These tydings be more gladd to me, 325 Than to be made a quene, Yf I were sure they sholde endure : But it is often sene, Whan men wyll breke promyse, they speke The word6s on the splene. 330 Ye shape some wyle me to begyle, And stele from me, I wene : Than were the case worse than it was, And I more wo-begone: For, in my mynde, of all mankynde 335 I love but you alone. Ye shall nat nede further to drede ; I will nat dysparage You, (God defend!) syth ye descend Of so grete a lynage. 340 Nowe undyrstande; to Westmarlande, Which is myne herytage, I wyll you brynge ; and with a rynge By way of maryage I wyll you take, and lady make, 345 As shortely as I can : Thus have you won an erlys son And not a banyshed man. AUTHOR. Here may ye se, that women be In love, meke, kynde, and stable : 350 Late never man reprove them than, Or call them variable ; But, rather, pray God, that we may To them be comfortable ; Which sometyme proveth such, as he loveth, Yf they be charytable. 356 For syth men wolde that women sholde Be meke to them each one, Moche more ought they to God obey. And serve but hym alone. 360 VII. % ialet bi \\t (fori liters. The amiable light in which the character of Anthony Widville the gallant Earl Rivers has been placed by the elegant Author of the Catalogue of Noble Writers, interests us in whatever fell from his pen. It is presumed therefore that the insertion of this little Son- net will be pardoned, though it should not be found to have much poetical merit. It is the only original poem known of that nobleman's ; his more voluminous works being only transla- tions. And if we consider that it was writ- ten during his cruel confinement in Pomfret castle a short time before his execution in 1483, it gives us a fine picture of the compo- sure and steadiness with which this stout Earl beheld his approaching fate. This ballad we owe to Rouse, a contempo- Ver. 325, gladder, Prol. and Mr. W. rary historian, who seems to have copied it from the Earl's own handwriting : In tem- pore, says this writer, incarceration) s apud Pontem-fractum edidit iinum Baletm angiitis, ut mihi monstratum est, quod subsequitur sub his verbis: Sum what Musing, &c. " Rossi Hist 8vo. 2 JEdit. p. 213." In Rouse the 2d Stanza, &c, is imperfect, but the defects are here supplied from a more perfect copy printed in "Ancient Songs from the time of King Henry III. to the Revolution," p. 87. This little piece, which perhaps ought ra- ther to have been printed in stanzas of eight short lines, is written in imitation of a poem Ver. 340, grete lynyage, Prol. and Mr. W. V. 347. Then have, Prol. V. 34S, and no banyshed, Prol. and Mr. W. V. 352. This line wanting in Prol. and Mr. W. V. 355, proved — loved, Prol. and Mr. W. lb. as loveth, Camb. V. 357, Forsoth, Prol. and Mr. W. 186 CUPID'S ASSAULT : BY LORD VAUX. of Chaucer's, that will be found in Urry' Edit. 1721, p. 555, beginning thus: " Alone walkyng, In thought plainyng, And sore sighying, All desolate, My remembrying Of my livyng My death wishyng Bothe erly and late. " Infortunate Is so my fate That wote ye what, Out of mesure My life I hate; Thus desperate In such pore estate, Doe I endure, &c." Sumwhat musyng, And more mornyng, In remembring The unstydfastnes ; This world being Of such whelyng, Me contrarieng, What may I gesse ? I fere dowtles, Remediles, 5 Is now to sese My wofull chaunce, [For unkyndness, Withouten less, And no redress, Me doth avaunce, With displesaunoe, To my grevaunce, And no suraunce Of remedy.] 10 Lo in this traunce, Now in substaunce, Such is my dawnce, Wyllyng to dye. Me thynkys truly, Bowndyn am I, And that gretly, To be content ; Seyng playnly, Fortune doth wry 15 All contrary From myn entent. My lyff was lent Me to on intent, Hytt is ny spent. AVelcome fortune! But I ne went Thus to be shent, But sho hit ment ; such is hur won. 20 VIII. tfttpfo's gssrft: §2 fati 9m. The reader will think that infant Poetry grew apace between the times of Rivers and Vaux, though nearly contemporaries ; if the following song is the composition of that Sir Nicholas (afterwards Lord) Vaux, who was the shining ornament of the court of Henry VII., and died in the year 1523. And yet to this Lord is attributed by Put- tenham in his " Art of Eng. Poesie, 1589, 4to.," a writer commonly well informed : take the passage at large. " In this figure [Coun- terfait Action] the Lord Nicholas Vaux, a noble gentleman and much delighted in vul- gar making, and a man otherwise of no great learning, but having herein a marvelous fa- cilitie, made a dittie representing the Bat- tayle and Assaulte of Cupide, so excellently well, as for the gallant and propre applica- tion of his fiction in every part I cannot choose but set downe the greatest part of his ditty, for in truth it cannot be amended. When Cupid Scaled, &c" p. 200.— For a far- ther account of Nicholas Lord Vaux, see Mr. Walpole's Noble Authors, Vol. I. The following copy is printed from the first Edit, of Surrey's Poems, 1557, 4to. — See another Song of Lord Vaux's in the preced- ing Vol. Book II. No. II. When Cupide scaled first the fort, Wherein my hart lay wounded sore ; The batry was of such a sort, That I must yelde or die therfore. There sawe I Love upon the wall, 5 How he his banner did display ; Alarme, alarme, he gan to call: And bad his souldiours kepe aray. The armes, the which that Cupide bare Were pearced hartes with teares besprent, In silver and sable to declare 11 The stedfast love, he alwayes ment. There might you se his band all drest In colours like to white and blacke, With powder and with pelletes prest 15 To bring the fort to spoile and sacke. Good-wyll, the maister of the shot, Stode in the rampire brave and proude, For spence of pouder he spared not Assault ! assault ! to crye aloude. 20 There might you heare the cannons rore ; Eche pece discharged a lovers loke ; Which had the power to rent, and tore In any place wheras they toke. Yer. 15, That fortune, Rossi Hist. V. 19, went, i. e. ween ed. CUPID'S ASSAULT: BY LORD VAUX. 187 And even with the trumpettes sowne 25 The scaling ladders were up set, And Beautie walked up and downe, With bow in hand, and arrowes whet. Then first Desire began to scale, And shrouded him under 'his' targe ; 30 As one the worthiest of them all, And aptest for to geve the charge. Then pushed souldiers with their pikes. And halberdes with handy strokes ; The argabushe in fleshe it lightes, 35 And duns the ayre with misty smokes. And, as it is the souldiers use When shot and powder gins to want, I hanged up my flagge of truce, And pleaded up for my lives grant. 40 When Fansy thus had mode her breche, And Beauty entred with her band, With bagge and baggage, sely wretch, I yelded into Beauties hand. Then Beautie bad to blow retrete, 45 And every souldier to retire, And mercy wyll'd with spede to fet Me captive bound as prisoner. Madame, quoth I, sith that this day Hath served you at all assayes, 50 1 yeld to you without delay Here of the fortresse all the kayes. And sith that I have ben the marke, At whom you shot at with your eye ; Nedes must you with your handy warke 55 Or salve my sore, or let me die. printed off, reasons have occurred, which in- cline me to believe that Lord Vaux the poet was not the Lord Nicholas Vaux, who died in 1523, but rather a successor of his in the title. — For in the first place it is remarkable that all the old writers mention Lord Vaux, the poet, as contemporary or rather posterior to Sir Thomas Wyat, and the Earl of Surrey, neither of which made any figure till long after the death of the first Lord Nicholas Vaux. Thus Puttenham, in his "Art of English Poesie, 1589/* in p. 48, having named Skelton, adds, " In the latter end of the same V. 30, her, Ed. 1557, so Ed. 15S3. kings raigne [Henry VIII.] sprong up a new company of courtly makers [poets], of whom Sir Thomas Wyat th' elder, and Henry Earl of Surrey, were the two chieftaines, who having travailed into Italic, and there tasted the sweet and stately measures and stile of the Italian poesie . . greatly polished our rude and homely manner of vulgar poesie . . In the same time, or not long after, was the Lord Nicholas Vaux, a man of much facilitie in vulgar making."* — Webbe, in his Discourse of English Poetrie. 158G, ranges them in the following order, " The Earl of Surrey, the Lord Vaux, Norton, Bristow." And Gas- coigne, in the place quoted in the 1st vol. of this work [B. II. No. II.] mentions Lord Vaux after Surrey. — Again, the style and measure of Lord Vaux's pieces seem too re- fined and polished for the age of Henry VII. and rather resemble the smoothness and har- mony of Surrey and Wyat, than the rude metre of Skelton and Hawes. — But what puts the matter out of all doubt, in the British Museum is a copy of his poem, 1 loihe that I did love, [vid. vol. I. ubi supra] with this title, " A dyttye or sonet made by the Lord Vaus, in the time of the noble Quene Marye, repre- senting the image of Death." Harl. MSS. No. 1703, I 25. It is evident then that Lord Vaux the poet was not he that flourished in the reign of Henry VII., but either his son, or grandson : and yet according to Dugdale's Baronage, the former was named Thomas, and the latter William : but this difficulty is not great, for none of the old writers mention the Christian name of the poetic Lord Vaux,f except Put- tenham ; and it is more likely that he might be mistaken in that lord's name, than in the time in which he lived, who was so nearly his contemporary. Thomas Lord Vaux, of Harrowden in North- amptonshire, was summoned to parliament in 1531. When he died does not appear ; but he probably lived till the latter end of Queen Mary's reign, since his son. William was not summoned to parliament till the last year of that reign, in 1558. This Lord died in 1595. See Dugdale, vol. ii. p. 304. — Upon the whole I am inclined to believfl that Lord Thomas was the poet. * i. e. Compositions in English. f In the Paradise of Dainty Devises, 1596. he is railed simply " Lord Vaux the elder " 188 SIR ALDINGAR. IX. Sir m&inpr. This old fabulous legend is given from the editor's folio MS. with conjectural emenda- tions, and the insertion of some additional stanzas to supply and complete the story. It has been suggested to the editor, that the author of this poem seems to have had in his eye the story of Gunhilda, who is some- times called Eleanor, and was married to the emperor (here called King) Henry. Our king he kept a false stewarde, Sir Aldingar they him call ; A falser steward than he was one, Servde not in bower nor hall. He wolde have layne by our comelye queene, Her deere worshippe to betraye : 6 Our queene she was a good woman, And evermore said him naye. Sir Aldingar was wrothe in his mind, With her hee was never content, 10- Till traiterous meanes he colde devyse, In a fyer to have her brent. There came a lazar to the kings gate, A lazar both blinde and lame : He tooke the lazar upon his backe, 15 Him on the queenes bed has layne. " Lye still, lazar, wheras thou lyest, Looke thou goe not hence away ; He make thee a whole man and a sound In two howers of the day."* 20 Then went him forth Sir Aldingar, And hyed him to our king: " If I might have grace, as I have space Sad tydings I could bring." Say on, say on, sir Aldingar, 25 Saye on the soothe to mee, "Our queene hath chosen a new new love, A.nd shee will have none of thee. * He probably insinuates that the king should heal him by his power of touching for the King's EtU. "If shee had chosen a rigtii £,ood knight, The lesse had beene her shar^e; 30 But she hath chose her a lazar r.ian, A lazar both bimde and lame." If this be tine, thou Aldingar, The tyding thou tellest to me, Then will 1 make thee a rich rich knight, 35 Rich both ot golde and fee. But if it be false, sir Aldingar, As God nowe grant it bee! Thy body, I sweare by the holye rood, Shall hang on the gallows tree. Ld He brought our king to the queenes chamber, And opend to him the dore. A lodlye love, king Harry saye, For our queene dame Elinore! If thou were a man, as thou art none, 45 Here on my sword thoust dye ; But a payre of new gallowes shall be built, And there shalt thou hang on hye. Forth then hyed our king, I wysse, And an angry man was' hee; And soone he found queene Elinore, That bride so bright of blee. 50 Now God you save, our queene, madame, And Christ you save and see; Heere you have chosen a newe newe love, 55 And you will have none of mee. If you had chosen a right good knight, The lesse had been your shame : But you have chose you a lazer man, A lazer both blinde and lame. 60 Therfore a fyer there shall be built, And brent all shalt thou bee. "Now out alack! said our comly queene, Sir Aldingar's false to mee. Now out alacke! sayd our comlye queene, 65 My heart with griefe will brast. SIR ALDINGAR. 189 I had thought swevens had never been true; I have proved them true at last. I dreamt in my sweven on thursday eve, In my bed wheras I laye, 70 I dreamt a grype and a grimlie beast Had carryed my crowne awaye ; My gorgett and my kirtle of golde, And all my faire head-geere; And he wold worrye me with his tush And to his nest y-bare: 75 Saving there came a little 'gray' hawke, A merlin him they call, Which untill the grounde did strike the grype, That dead he downe did fall. 80 Giffe I were a man, as now I am none, A battell wold I prove, To fight with that traitor Aldingar ; Att him I cast my glove. But seeing Ime able noe battell to make, 85 My liege, grant me a knight To fight with that traitor sir Aldingar, To maintaine me in my right." " Now forty dayes I will give thee To seeke thee a knight therin: 90 If thou find not a knight in forty dayes Thy bodye it must brenn." Then shee sent east, and shee sent west, By north and south bedeene: But never a champion colde she find, 95 Wolde fight with that knight soe keene. Now twenty dayes were spent and gone, Noe helpe there might be had ; Many a teare shed our comelye queene And aye her hart was sad. 100 Then came one of the queenes damselles, And knelt upon her knee, "Cheare up, cheare up, my gracious dame, I trust yet helpe may be : And here I will make mine avowe, 105 And with the same me binde; That never will I return to thee, Till I some helpe may finde." Yer. 77, see below, ver. 137. Then forth she rode on a faire palfraye Oer hill and dale about: 110 But never a champion colde she finde Wolde fighte with that knight so stout. And nowe the daye drewe on a pace, When our good queene must dye ; All woe-begone was that faire damselle, 115 When she found no helpe was nye. All woe-begone was that faire damselle, And the salt teares fell from her eye : When lo ! as she rode by a rivers side, She met with a tinye boye. 120 A tinye boye she mette, God wot, All clad in mantle of golde ; He seemed noe more in mans likenesse, Then a childe of four yeere olde. Why grieve you, damselle faire, he sayd, And what doth cause you moahe? 126 The damselle scant wolde deigne a looke, But fast she pricked on. Yet turne again e, thou faire damsel: e, And greete thy queene from mee : When bale is att hyest, boote is nyest, Nowe helpe enoughe may bee. 130 Bid her remember what she dreamt In her bedd, wheras shee laye ; 134 IJow when the grype and the grimly beast Wolde have carried her crowne awaye, Even then there came the little gray hawke, And saved her from his clawes : Then bidd the queene be merry at hart, For heaven will fende her cause. 140 Back then rode that faire damselle, And her hart it lept for glee : And when she told her gracious dame A gladd woman then was shee. But when the appointed day was come, 145 No helpe appeared nye : Then woeful, woeful was her hart, And the teares stood in her eye. And nowe a fyer was built of wood ; And a stake was made of tree ; 150 And nowe Queene Elinor forth was led, A sorrowful sight to see 190 SIR ALDINGAR. Three times the herault he -waved his hand, And three times spake on live : Giff any good knight will fende this dame, Come forth, or shee must dye. 156 No knight stood forth, no knight there came, No helpe appeared nye: And now the fyer was lighted up, Queen Elinor she must dye. 160 And now the fyer was lighted up, As hot as hot might bee ; When riding upon a little white steed, The tinye boy they see. "Away with that stake, away with those brands, 165 And loose our comelye queene: I am come to fight with Sir Aldingar, And prove him a traitor keene." F» rthe then stood Sir Aldingar, But when he saw the chylde, 170 He laughed, and scoffed and turned his l,ack, And weened he had been beguylde. " Now turne, now turne thee, Aldingar, And eyther fighte or flee ; I trust that I shall avenge the wronge, 175 Though I am so small to see." The boye pulld forth a well good sworde, So gilt it dazzled the ee ; The first stroke stricken at Aldingar Smote off his leggs by the knee. 180 " Stand up, stand up, thou false trait6r, And fight upon thy feete, Fur and thou thrive, as thou begin'st, Of height wee shall be meete." A priest, a priest, sayes Aldingar, While I am a man alive. 185 A priest, a priest, sayes Aldingar, Me for to houzle and shrive. I wolde have laine by our comlie queene, Bot shee wolde never consent ; 190 Then I thought to betraye her unto our kinge, In a fyer to have her brent. There came a lazar to the kings gates, A lazar both blind and lame ; I tooke the lazar upon my backe, 195 And on her bedd had him layne. Then ranne I to our comlye king, These tidings sore to tell. But ever alacke ! sayes Aldingar, Falsing never doth well. 200 Forgive, forgive me, queene, madame, The short time I must live, " Nowe Christ forgive thee, Aldingar, As freely I forgive." Here take thy queene, our King Harrye, And love her as thy life, 206 For never had a king in Christentye, A truer and fairer wife. King Henrye ran to claspe his queene, And loosed her full sone ; 210 Then turnd to look for the tinye boye ; The boye was vanisht and gone. But first he had touchd the lazar man, And stroakt him with his hand: The lazar under the galloAves tree 215 All whole and sounde did stand. The lazar under the gallowes tree Was comelye, straight and tall ; King Henrye made him his head stewarde To wayte withinn his hall. *** 220 THE GABERLUNZIE MAN. 191 X. •t §^nh\xfxt Utait, A SCOTTISH SONG. Tradition informs us that the author of this song was King James V. of Scotland. This prince (whose character for wit and libertinism bears a great resemblance to that of his gay successor Charles II.) was noted for strolling about his dominions in disguise,* and for his frequent gallantries with country girls. Two adventures of this kind he hath celebrated with his own pen, viz., in this ballad of " The Gaberlunzie Man ;" and in another, entitled " The Jolly Beggar," begin- ning thus : " Thair was a jollie beggar, and a begging he was boun, And he tuik up his quarters into a land'art toun. Fa, la, la, &c." It seems to be the latter of these ballads (which was too licentious to be admitted into this collection) that is meant in the Catalogue of Royal and Noble Authors,! where the in- genious writer remarks, that there is some- thing very ludicrous in the young woman's distress when she thought her first favour had been thrown away upon a beggar. Bishop Tanner has attributed to James V. the celebrated ballad of " Christ's Kirk on the Green," which is ascribed to King James I. in Bannatyne's MS. written in 1568 : and notwithstanding that authority, the editor of this book is of opinion that Bishop Tanner was right. King James V. died December 13th, 1542, aged 33. The pauky auld Carle came ovir the lee Wi' mony good-eens and days to mee, Saying, Goodwife, for zour courtesie, Will ze lodge a silly poor man? The night was cauld, the carle was wat, 5 And down azout the ingle he sat, My dochters shoulders he gan to clap, And cadgily ranted and sang. * sc. of a tinker, beggar. &c. Thus he used to visit a smith's daughter at Niddry. near Edinburgh, f Vol. II. p. 203. 25 wow ! quo he, were I as free, As first when I saw this countrie, 10 How blyth and merry wad I bee ! And I wad nevir think lang. He grew canty, and she grew fain ; But little did her auld minny ken What thir slee twa togither were say'n, 15 When wooing they were sa thrang. And ! quo he, ann ze were as black, As evir the crown of your dadyes hat, Tis I wad lay thee by my back, And awa wi' me thou sould gang. 20 And ! quoth she, ann I were as white, As evir the snaw lay on the dike, lid dead me braw, and lady-like, And awa with thee lid gang. Between the twa was made a plot ; 25 They raise a wee before the cock, And wyliely they shot the lock, And fast to the bent are they gane. Up the morn the auld wife raise, And at her leisure put on her claiths, 30 Syne to the servants bed she gaes To speir for the silly poor man. She gaed to the bed, whair the beggar lay The strae was cauld, he was away, She clapt her hands, cryd, Dulefu' day ! 35 For some of our geir will be gane. Some ran to coffer, and some to kist, But nought was stown that could be mist. She dancid her lane, cryd, Praise be blest, I have lodgd a leal poor man. 40 Since naithings awa, as we can learn, The kirns to kirn, and milk to earn, Gae butt the house, lass, and waken my bairn, And bid her come quickly ben. The servant gaed where the dochterlay, 45 The sheets was cauld, she was away, And fast to her goodwife can say, Shes affwith the gaberlunzie-man. Ver. 29, The Carline. Other copies. 192 ON THOMAS LORD CROMWELL. fy gar ride, and fy gar rin, And hast ze, find these traitors agen ; For shees be burnt, and hees be slein, The wearyfou gaberlunzie-man. Some rade upo horse, some ran a fit, The wife was wood, and Out o' her wit ; She could na gang, nor yet could she sit, But ay did curse and did ban. 50 55 Mean time far hind out owre the lee, For snug in a glen, where nane could see, The twa, with kindlie sport and glee, Cut frae a new cheese a whang. 60 The priving was gude, it pleas'd them baith, To lo'e her for ay, he gae her his aith. Quo she, to leave thee, I will be laith, My winsome gaberlunzie-man. kend my minny I were wi' zou, 65 Illfardly wad she crook her mou, Sic a poor man sheld nevir trow, Aftir the gaberlunzie-mon. My dear, quo he, zee're zet owre zonge ; And hae na learnt the beggars tonge, 70 To follow me frae toun to toun, And carrie the gaberlunzie on. Wi' kauk and keel, 111 win zour bread, And spindles and whorles for them wha need, Whilk is a gentil trade indeed 75 The gaberlunzie to carrie — o. Ill bow my leg and crook my knee, And draw a black clout owre nry ee, A criple or blind they will cau me : While we sail sing and be merrie— o. XI. ©it ®I]0tTO f0rt ComiML It is ever the fate of a disgraced minister to be forsaken by his friends, and insulted by his enemies, always reckoning among the latter the giddy inconstant multitude. We have here a spurn at fallen greatness from some angry partisan of declining Popery, who could never forgive the downfall of their Diana, and loss of their craft. The ballad seems to have been composed between the time of Cromwell's commitment to the Tower, June 11, 1540, and that of his being beheaded July 28, following. A short interval ! but Henry's passion for Catherine Howard would admit of no delay. Notwithstanding our li- beller, Cromwell had many excellent quali- ties: his great fault was too much obsequi- ousness to the arbitrary will of his master ; but let it be considered that this master had raised him from obscurity, and that the high- born nobility had shown him the way in every kind of mean and servile compliance. — The original copy printed at London in 1540, is entitled, " A newe ballade made of Thomas Crumwel, called Trolle on away." To it is prefixed this distich by way of burthen, Trolle on away, trolle on a wave. 8ynge heave and howe rombelowe trolle on away. Both man and chylde is glad to here tell Of that false traytoure Thomas Crumwell, Now that he is set to learne to spell. Synge trolle on away. When fortune lokyd the in thy face, Thou haddyst fayre tyme, but thou lackydyst grace ; 5 Thy cofers with golde thou fyllydst a pace. Synge, &c. Both plate and chalys came to thy fyst, Thou lockydst them vp where no man wyst, Tyll in the kynges treasoure suche thinges were myst. Synge, &c. Both crust and crumme came thorowe thy handes, 10 Thy marchaundyse sayled over the sandes, Therfore nowe thou art layde fast in bandes. Synge, &c. Fyrste when kynge Henry, God saue his grace ? Perceyud myschefe kyndlyd in thy face, Then it was tyme to purchase the a place. 15 . Synge, &c. ON THOMAS LORD CROMWELL. 193 Hys grace was euer of gentyll nature, Mouyd with petye, and made the hys seruy- ture ; But thou, as a wretche, suche thinges dyd procure. Synge, &c. Thou dyd not remembre, false heretyke, One God, one fayth, and one kynge catholyke, For thou hast bene so long a scysmatyke. 21 Synge, &c. Thou woldyst not learne to knowe these thre ; But euer was full of iniquite : Wherfore all this lande hathe ben troubled with the. Synge, &c. All they, that were of the new trycke, 25 Agaynst the churche thou baddest them stycke ; Wherfore nowe thou haste touchyd the quycke. Synge, &c. Bothe sacramentes and sacramentalles Thoii woldyst not suffre within thy walles ; Nor let vs praye for all chrysten soules. 30 Synge, &c. Of what generacyon thou were no tonge can tell, Whyther of Chayme, or Syschemell, Or else sent vs frome the deuyll of hell. Synge, &,c. Tho woldest neuer to vertue applye, But couetyd euer to clymme to hye, 35 And nowe haste thou trodden thy shoo awrye, Synge, &c. Ver. 32, i. e. Cain or Tshmael. Who-so-euer dyd winne thou wolde not lose ; Wherfore all Englande doth hate the, as I suppose Bycause thou wast false to the redolent rose. Synge, &c. Thou myghtest have learned thy clothe to flocke 40 Upon thy gresy fullers stocke : Wherfore lay downe thy heade vpon this blocke. Synge, &c. Yet saue that soule, that God hath bought, And for thy carcas care thou nought, Let it suffre payne, as it hath wrought. 45 Synge, &c. God saue kyng Henry with all his power, And prynce Edwarde that goodly flowre, With al hys lordes of great honoure. Synge trolle on awaye, syng trolle on away Hevye and how rombelowe trolle on awaye. t-j-t The foregoing Piece gave rise to a poetic controversy, which was carried on through a succession of seven or eight Bal- lads written for and against Lord Cromwell. These are all preserved in the archives of the Antiquarian Society, in a large folio Collec- tion of Proclamations, &c, made in the reigns of King Henry VIII., King Edward VI., Queen Mary, Queen Elizabeth, King James I., &c. V. 41, Cromwell's father is generally said to have been a blacksmith at Putney ; hut the author of this Ballad would insinuate that either he himself or some of his ancestors I were Fullers by trade. 194 HARPALUS. XII. Jarpltts AN ANCIENT ENGLISH PASTORAL. This beautiful poem, which is perhaps the first attempt at pastoral writing in our lan- guage, is preserved among the " Songs and Sonnettes" of the Earl of Surrey, &c. , 4to., in that part of the collection which consists of pieces by " Uncertain Auctours." These poems were first published in 1557, ten years after that accomplished nobleman fell a vic- tim to the tyranny of Henry VIII., but it is presumed most of them were composed be- fore the death of Sir Thomas Wyatt in 1541. See Surrey's poems, 4to., fol. 19, 49. Though written perhaps near half a cen- tury before the " Shepherd's Calender,"* this will be found far superior to any of those Ec- logues, in natural unaffected sentiments, in simplicity of style, in easy flow of versifica- tion, and all other beauties of pastoral poetry. Spenser ought to have profited more by so excellent a model. Phylida was a faire mayde, As fresh as any flowre ; Whom Harpalus the Herdman prayde To be his paramour. Harpalus, and eke Corin, 5 Were herd men both yfere : And Phylida could twist and spinne, And thereto sing full clere. But Phylida was all td coye, For Harpalus to winne : 10 For Corin was her onely joye, Who forst her not a pinne. How often would she flowers twine? How often garlandes make Of couslips and of colombine ? 15 And al for Corin's sake. But Corin, he had haukes to lure, And forced more the field : Of lovers lawe he toke no cure ; For once he was begilde. 20 * First published in 1579. Harpalus prevailed nought, His labour all was lost ; For he was fardest from her thought, And yet he loved her most. Therefore waxt he both pale and leane, 25 And drye as clot of clay : His fleshe it was consumed cleane: His colour gone away. His beard it had not long be shave ; His heare hong all unkempt: A man most fit even for the grave, Whom spitefull love had spent. 30 His eyes were red, and all ' forewacht' His face besprent with teares : It semde unhap had him long 'hatcht/ 35 In mids of his dispaires. His clothes were blacke, and also bare ; As one forlorn e was he ; Upon his head alwayes he ware A wreath of wyllow tree. 40 His beastes he kept upon the hyll, And he sate in the dale ; And thus with sighes and sorrowes shril, He gan to tell his tale. Oh Harpalus ! (thus would he say) 45 Unhappiest under sunne ! The cause of thine unhappy day, By love was first begunne. For thou wentest first by sute to seeke A tigre to make tame, 50 That settes not by thy love a leeke ; But makes thy griefe her game. As easy it were for to convert The frost into ' a' flame ; As for to turne a frowarde hert, 55 Whom thou so faine wouldst frame. Ver. 33, &c. The corrections are from Ed. 1574. ROBIN AND MAKYNE. 195 Corin he liveth carelesse : He leapes among the leaves: He eates the frutes of thy redresse: Thou ' reapst,' he takes the sheaves. 60 My beastes, a whyle your foode refraine, And harke your herdmans sounde ; Whom spitefull love, alas ! hath slaine, Through-girt with many a wounde. happy be ye, beastes wilde, 65 That here your pasture takes : 1 se that ye be not begilde Of these your faithfull makes! The hart he feedeth by the hinde : The bucke harde by the do : 70 The turtle dove is not unkinde To him that loves her so. The ewe she hath by her the ramme ; The young cow hath the bull : The calfe with many a lusty lambe 75 Do fede their hunger full. But, well-away ! that nature wrought The, Phylida, so faire: For I may say that I have bought Thy beauty all td deare. 80 What reason is that crueltie With beautie should have part? Or els that such great tyranny Should dwell in womans hart ? 85 I see therefore to shape my death She cruelly is prest ; To th' ende that I may want my breath : My dayes been at the best. Cupide, graunt this my request, And do not stoppe thine eares, 90 That she may feele within her brest The paines of my dispaires : Of Corin * who' is carelesse, That she may crave her fee : As I have done in great distresse, 95 That loved her faithfully. But since that I shal die her slave ; Her slave, and eke her thrall : Write you, my frendes, upon my grave This chaunce that is befall. 100 " Here lieth unhappy Harpalus By cruell love now slaine : Whom Phylida unjustly thus Hath murdred with disdaine." XIII. lUbht anfc Itakp*. AN ANCIENT SCOTTISH PASTORAL. The palm of pastoral poesy is here con- tested by a contemporary writer with the author of the foregoing. The critics will judge of their respective merits ; but must make some allowance for the preceding bal- lad, which is given simply as it stands in the old editions : whereas this, which follows, has been revised and amended throughout by Allan Ramsay, from whose " Ever-Green," Vol. I., it is here chiefly printed. The curious reader may however compare it with the more original copy, printed among "Ancient Scottish Poems, from the 31 S. of George Ban- natyne, 1568, Edinb. 1770, 12mo." Mr. Ro- bert Henryson (to whom we are indebted for this poem) appears to so much advantage among the writers of eclogue, that we are sorry we can give little other account of him besides what is contained in the following eloge, written by W. Dunbar, a Scottish poet who lived about the middle of the 16th cen- tury: " In Dumferling, he [Death] hath tane Broun, With gude Mr. Robert Henryson." Indeed some little further insight into the history of this Scottish bard is gained from 196 ROBIN AND MAKYNE. the title prefixed to some of his poems pre- served in the British Museum ; viz., " The morall Fabillis of Esop compylit be Maister Robert Henrisoun, Scolmaister of Dumferm- ling, 1571." Harleian MSS. 3865, \ 1. In Ramsay's " Ever-Green," Vol. I., whence the above distich is extracted, are preserved two other little Doric pieces by Henryson ; the one entitled " The Lyon and the Mouse," the other " The Garment of Gude Ladyis." Some other of his poems may be seen in the " Ancient Scottish Poems printed from Ban- natyne's MS.," above referred to-. Robin" sat on the gude grene hill, Keipand a flock of fie, Quhen mirry Makyne said him till, " Robin, rew on me : I haif thee luivt baith loud and still, 5 Thir towmonds twa or thre ; My dule in dern bot giff thou dill, Doubtless but dreid 111 die." 10 Robin replied, Now by the rude, Naithing of luve I knaw, But keip my sheip undir yon wod : Lo quhair they raik on raw. Quhat can have mart thee in thy mude, Thou Makyne to me schaw ; Or quhat is luve, or to be lude? 15 Fain wald I leir that law. " The law of luve gin thou wald leir, Tak thair an A, B, C ; Be heynd, courtas, and fair of feir, Wyse, hardy, kind and frie, Sae that nae danger do the deir, Quhat dule in dern thou drie ; Press ay to pleis and blyth appeir, Be patient and privie." 20 Robin, he answert her againe, I wat not quhat is luve ; But I haif marvel in certaine Quhat makes thee thus wanrufe. The wedder is fair, and I am fain ; My sheep gais hail abuve ; And sould we pley us on the plain. They wald us baith repruve. 25 30 Ver. 19, Eannatyne's MS. reads as above, hoynd. not keynd. as in the Edinb. edit. 1770. V. 21, So that no danger. Eannatyne's MS. " Robin, tak tent unto my tale, And wirk all as I reid ; And thou sail haif my heart all hale 35 Eik and my maiden-he id : Sen God, he sendis bute for bale, And for murning remeid, I 'dern with thee bot gif I dale, Doubtless I am but deid." 40 Makyne, to-morn be this ilk t}~de, Gif ye will meit me heir, Maybe my sheip may gang besyde, Quhyle we have liggd full neir; But maugre haif I, gif I byde, 45 Frae thay begin to steir, Quhat lyes on heart I will nocht hyd, Then Makyne mak gude cheir. "Robin, thou reivs me of my rest; I luve bot thee alane." 50 Makyne, adieu ! the sun goes west, The day is heir-hand gaue. " Robin, in dule I am so drest, That luve will be my bane." Makyne, gae luve quhair-eir ye list, 55 For leman I luid nane. " Robin, I stand in sic a style, I sich and that full sair." Makyne, I have bene here this quyle; At hame I wish I were. 60 " Robin, my hinny, talk and smyle, Gif thou will do nae mair." Makyne, som other man beguyle, For hameward I will fare. Syne Robin on his ways he went, 65 As light as leif on tree : But Makyne murnt and made lament, Scho trow'd him neir to see. Robin he brayd attowre the bent : Then Makyne cried on hie, 70 " Now may thou sing, for I am shent! Quhat ailis luve at me ?" Makyne went hame withouten fail, And weirylie could weip ; Then Robin in a full fair dale 75 Assemblit all his sheip. Be that some part of Makyne's ail, Out-throw his heart could creip; Hir fast he followt to assail, And till her tuke gude keip. 80 GENTLE HERDSMAN. 197 Abyd, abyd, thou fair Makyne, A word for ony thing ; For all my luve, it sail be thyne, Wi thou ten departing. All hale thy heart for till have myne, Is all ray coveting ; My sheip to morn quhyle houris nyne, Will need of nae keiping. " Robin, thou hast heard sung and say, In gests and storys auld, The man that will not when he may, Sail have nocht when he wald. I pray to heaven baith nicht and day, Be eiked their cares sae cauld, That presses first with thee to play, Be forrest, firth, or fauld." Makyne, the nicht is soft and dry, The wether warm and fair, And the grene wod richt neir-hand by, To walk attowre all where : There may nae janglers us espy, That is in luve contrair ; Therin, Makyne, baith you and I Unseen may mak repair. 85 90 95 100 " Robin, that warld is now away, 105 And quyt brocht till an end: And nevir again thereto, perfay, Sail it be as thou wend ; For of my pain thou made but play ; I words in vain did spend : 110 As thou hast done, sae sail I say, Murn on, I think to mend." Makyne, the hope of all my heil, My heart on thee is set ; I'll evermair to thee be leil, 115 Quhyle I may live but lett, Never to fail as uthers feill, Quhat grace so eir I get. " Robin, with thee I will not deill ; Adieu, for this we met." 120 Makyne went hameward blyth enough, Outowre the holtis hair; Pure Robin murnd, and Makyne leugh ; Scho sang, and he sicht sair : And so left him bayth wo and wreuch, In dolor and in care, 126 Keipand his herd under a heuch, Amang the rushy gair. XIV. «Me ytftsm M to 3t DIALOGUE BETWEEN A PILGRIM AND HERDSMAN. The scene of this beautiful old ballad is laid near Walsingham, in Norfolk, where was anciently an image of the Virgin Mary, fa- mous over all Europe for the numerous pil- grimages made to it, and the great riches it possessed. Erasmus has given a very exact and humorous description of the superstitions practised there in his time. (See his account of the " Virgo Parathalasia," in his colloquy entitled, " Peregrinatio Religionis Ergo." He tells us, the rich offerings in silver, gold, and precious stones, that were there shown him, were incredible, there being scarce a person of any note in England, but what some time or other paid a visit or sent a present to " Our Ver. 1770. Bannatyne's MS. has woid, not woud, as in Ed. Lady of Walsingham."* At the dissolution of the monasteries in 1538, this splendid image, with another from Ipswich, was car- ried to Chelsea, and there burnt in the pre- sence of commissioners ; who, we trust, did not burn the jewels and the finery. This poem is printed from a copy in the editor's folio MS. which had greatly suffered by the hand of time ; but vestiges of several of the lines remaining, some conjectural sup- plements have been attempted, which, for greater exactness, are in this one ballad dis- tinguished by italics. V. 117, Bannatyne's MS. reads in Ed. 1770. aboTe feill, no faill, as * See at the end of this Ballad an account of the annual offerings of the Earls of Northumberland. 198 GENTLE HERDSMAN. Gentle heard sman, tell to me, Of curtesy I thee pray, Unto the towne of Walsinghaui Which is the right and ready way. " Unto the towne of Walsingham The way is hard for to be gon ; And verry crooked are those pathes For you to find out all alone." Weere the miles doubled thrise, And the way never so ill, Itt were not enough for mine offence, Itt is soe grievous and soe ill. 10 " Thy yeeares are young, thy face is faire, Thy witts are weake, thy thoughts are greene ; Time hath not given thee leave, as yett, 15 For to committ so great a sinne." Yes, heardsman, yes, soe woldest thou say, If thou knewest soe much as I ; My witts, and thoughts, and all the rest, Have well deserved for to dye. 20 I am not what I seeme to bee, My clothes and sexe doe differ farr : I am a woman, woe is me ! Born to greeffe and irksome care. For my beloved, and well-beloved, 25 My wayward cruelty could kill: And though my teares will nought avail, Most dearely I bewail him still. He teas the flower of noble wights, None ever more sincere colde bee; 30 Of comely mien and shape hee was, And tenderlye hee loved mee. When thus I saw he Zoved me well, I grewe so proud his ^aine to see, That 1, who did not know myselfe, 35 Thought scorne of such a youth as hee. *And gr°!W soe coy and nice to please, As women's lookes are often soe, He might not kisse, nor hand forsooth, Unlesse I willed him soe to doe. 40 * Three of the following stanzas have heen finely para- phrased by Dr. Goldsmith, in his charming ballad of ♦'Edwin and Emma;" the reader of taste will have a pleasure in comparing them with the original. Thus being weary ed with delay es To see I pittyed not his greeffe, He gott him to a secrett place, And there he dyed without releeffe. And for his sake wfese weeds I weare, 45 And sacrifice my tender age ; And every day He begg my bread, To undergo this pilgrimage. Thus every day I fast and pray And ever will doe till I dye ; 50 And gett me to some secrett place, For soe did hee, and soe will I. Now, gentle heardsman, aske no more, ' But keepe my secretts I thee pray : Unto the towne of Walsingham 55 Show me the right and readye way. " Now goe thy wayes, and God before ! For he must ever guide thee still : Turne downe that dale, the right hand path, And soe, faire pilgrim, fare thee well V *#* To show what constant tribute was paid to " Our Lady of Walsingham," I shall give a few extracts from the " Household Book of Henry Algernon Percy, 5th Earl of Northumberland." Printed 1770, 8vo. Sect. XLIII., page 337, &c. Item, My Lorde usith yerly to send afor Mi- chaelmas for his Lordschip's Offerynge to our Lady of Walsyngeham. — iiij d. Item, My Lorde usith ande accustumyth to sende yerely for the unholdynge of the Light of Wax which his Lordschip fyndith birnynge yerly befor our Lady of Wal- syngham, contenynge xj lb. of Wax in it ' And' still I try'd each fickle art, Importunate and vain ; And while his passion touch'd my heart, I triumph'd in his pain. 'Till quite dejected with my scorn He left me to my pride ; And sought a solitude forlorn, In secret, where he dy'd. But mine the sorrow, mine the fault, And well my life shall pay; I'll seek the solitude he sought, And stretch me where he lay. And there forlorn despairing hid, I'll lay me down and die: 'Twas so for me that Edwin did, And so for him will I. KING EDWARD IV. AND THE TANNER OF TAMWORTII. 109 after vij d.-ob. for the fyndynge of every lb. redy wrought by a covenaunt maid with the Channon by great, for the hole yere, for the fyndinge of the said Lyght byrn- ning, — vi s. viiij d. Item, My Lorde usith and accustomith to syende yerely to the Channon that kepith the Light before our Lady of Walsyngham, for his reward for the hole yere, for kep- ynge of the said Light, lightynge of it at all service tymes dayly thorowt the yere, — xij d. Item, My Lorde usith and accustomyth yerely to send to the Prest that kepith the Light, lyghtynge of it at all service tymes daily thorowt the yere, — iij s. iiij d. XV. Jlhtjj (Kbtoari $$♦ anir % %mmx rf % mximxfy Was a story of great fame among our an- cestors. The author of the " Art of English Poesie," 1589, 4to., seems to speak of it as a real fact. Describing that vicious mode of speech, which the Greeks called Acyron, i. e. " When we use a dark and obscure word, ut- terly repugnant to that we should express ;" he adds, " Such manner of uncouth speech did the Tanner of Tamworth use to King Ed- ward the Fourth ; which Tanner, having a great while mistaken him, and used very broad talke with him, at length perceiving by his traine that it was the king, was afraide he should be punished for it, [and] said thus, with a certain rude repentance, "I hope I shall be hanged to-morrow," for [I feare me] 1 shall be hanged; whereat the king laughed a good,* not only to see the Tanner's vaine feare, but also to heare his illshapen terme : and gave him for recom- pence of his good sport, the inheritance of Plumpton-parke. *' I am afraid/ " concludes this sagacious writer, " ' the poets of our times that speake more finely and correctedly, will come too short of such a reward/ " p. 214. The phrase here referred to, is not found in this ballad at present,! but occurs with some variation in another old poem, entitled, "John the Reeve/' described in the following vol- ume (see the Preface to " The King and the Miller"), viz.: " Nay, sayd John, by Gods grace, And Edward wer in this place, * Vid. Gloss. f Nor in that of the Barker mentioned below. 2(5 Hee shold not touch this tonne : He wold be wroth with John I hope, Thereffore I beshrewe the soupe, That in his mouth shold come." Pt. 2, st. 24. The following text is selected (with such other corrections as occurred) from two copies in black letter. The one in the Bodleyan library, entitled, "A merrie, pleasant, and delectable historie betweene King Edward the Fourth, and a Tanner of Tamworth, &c, printed at London, by John Danter, 1596." This copy, ancient as it now is, appears to have been modernized and altered at the time it was published ; and many vestiges of the more ancient readings were recovered from another copy (though more recently printed) in one sheet folio, without date, in the Pepys collection. But these are both very inferior in point of antiquity to the old ballad of " The King and the Barker," reprinted with other " Pieces of Ancient Popular Poetry from Authentic Manuscripts, and old Printed Copies, &c, London, 1791, 8vo." As that very antique Poem had never occurred to the Editor of the Reliques, till he saw it in the above collec- tion, he now refers the curious reader to it, as an imperfect and incorrect copy of the old original ballad. In summer time, when leaves grow greene, And blossoms bedecke the tree, King Edward wolde a hunting ryde, Some pastime for to see. With hawke and hounde he made him bowue With home, and eke with bowe : 200 KIXG EDWARD IV. AND THE TANNER OF TAMWORTII. To Drayton Basset he tooke his waye, With all his lordes a rowe. And he had ridden ore dale and downe By eight of clocke in the day, 10 When he was ware of a bold tanner, Come ryding along the waye. A fayre russet coat the tanner had on Fast buttoned under his chin, And under him a good cow-hide, 15 And a mare of four shilling.* Nowe stand you still, my good lordes all, m Under the grene wood spraye ; And I will wend to yonder fellowe, To weet what he will saye. 20 God speede, God speede thee, sayd our king. Thou art welcome, sir, sayd hee. " The ready est waye to Drayton Basset I praye thee to shewe to mee." " To Drayton Basset woldst thou goe, 25 Fro the place where thou dost stand ? The next payre of gallowes thou comest unto, Turne in upon thy right hand." That is an unreadye waye, sayd our king, Thou doest but jest I see ; 30 Nowe shewe me out the nearest waye, And I pray the wend with mee. Awaye with a vengeaunce ! quoth the tanner : I hold thee out of thy witt : All daye have I rydden on Brocke my mare, And I am fasting yett. 36 " Go with me downe to Drayton Basset, No daynties we will spare ; All daye shalt thou eate and drinke of the best, And I will pave thy fare." 40 Gramercye for nothing, the tanner replyde, Thou payest no fare of mine : I trowe I've more nobles in my purse, Than thou hast pence in thine. * In the reign of Edward IV. Dame Cecili, lady of Tor- boke, in her will dated Mar^h 7, A. D. 1466, among many other bequests, has this, ' : Also I will that my sonne Thomas of Torboke have 13s. id. to buy him an horse." Vid. Ibir- leian Catalog. 2176. 27. — Now if 13*. 4d. would purchase a lit for a person of quality, a tanner's horse might reasonably be valued at four or five shillings. God give thee joy of them, sayd the king, 45 And send them well to priefe. The tanner wolde faine have beene away, For he weende he had beene a thiefe. What art thou, hee sayde, thou fine fellowe, Of thee I am in great feare, 50 For the cloathes, thou wearest upon thy backe, Might beseeme a lord to weare. I never stole them, quoth our king, I tell you, sir, by the roode. " Then thou playest, as many an unthrift doth, 55 And standest in midds of thy goode."* What tydinges heare you, sayd the kynge, As you ryde farre and neare ? " I heare no tydinges, sir, by the masse, But that cowe-hides are deare." 60 " Cowe-hides ! cowe-hides ! what things are those ? I marvell what they bee ?" What art thou a foole ? the tanner reply'd ; I carry one under mee. What craftsman art thou, said the king, 65 I praye thee tell me trowe. " I am a barker, f sir, by my trade ; Nowe tell me what art thou ?" I am a poore courtier, sir, quoth he, That am forth of service worne ; 70 And faine I wolde thy prentise bee, Thy cunninge for to learne. Marrye heaven forfend, the tanner replyde, That thou my prentise were: Thou woldst spend more good than I shold winne 75 By forty e shilling a yere. Yet one thing wolde I, sayd our king, If thou wilt not seeme strange : Thoughe my horse be better than thy mare, Yet with thee I faine wold change. 80 " Why if with me thou faine wilt change, As change full well maye wee, * i. e. hast no other wealth, but what thou carrie?t about thee, f i. e. a dealer in bark. KING EDWARD IV. AND THE TANNER OF TAMWORTH. 201 By the faith of my bodye, thou proude fel- lowe, I will have some boot of thee." That were against reason, sayd the king, 85 I sweare, so mote I thee: My horse is better than thy mare, And that thou well mayst see. " Yea, sir, but Brocke is gentle and mild, And softly she will fare : 90 Thy horse is unrulye and wild, I wiss ; Aye skipping here and theare." What boote wilt thou have? our king re- ply'd ; Now tell me in this stound. " Noe pence, nor half-pence, by my faye, 95 But a noble in gold so round." " Here's twentye groates of white moneye, Sith thou wilt have it of mee." I would have sworne now, quoth the tanner, Thou hadst not had one pennie. 100 But since we two have made a change, A change we must abide, Although thou hast gotten Brocke my mare, Thou gettest not my cow-hide. I will not have it, sayd the kynge, 105 I sweare, so mought I thee ; Thy foule cowe-hide I wolde not beare, If thou woldst give it to mee. The tanner hee tooke his good cowe-hide, That of the cow was hilt ; 110 And threwe it upon the king's sadelle, That was soe fayrelye gilte. " Now help me up, thou fine fellowe, 'Tis time that I were gone : When I come home to Gyllian my wife, 115 Sheel say I am a gentilrnon." The king he tooke him up by the legge ; The tanner af** lett fall. Nowe marrye, good fellowe, sayd the kyng, Thy courtesye is but small. 120 When the tanner he was in the kinges sa- delle, And his foote in his stirrup was ; II' 3 marvelled greatlye in his minde, Whether it were golde or brass. But when his steede saw the cows taile waggo, And eke the blacke cowe-horne ; 126 He stamped, and stared, and awaye he ranne, As the devill had him borne. The tanner he pulld, the tanner he sweat, And held by the pummil fast : 130 At length the tanner came tumbling downe ; His necke he had well-nye brast. Take thy horse again with a vengeance, he sayd, With mee he shall not byde. " My horse wolde have borne thee well enoughe, 135 But he knewe not of thy cowe-hide. " Yet if agayne thou fayne woldst change, As change full well may wee, By the faith of my bodye, thou jolly tanner, I will have some boote of thee." 140 What boote wilt thou have, the tanner replyd, Nowe tell me in this stounde ? "Noe pence nor halfpence, sir, by my faye, But I will have twentye pound." " Here's twentye groates out of my purse ; And twentye I have of thine : 146 And I have one more, which we will spend Together at the wine." The king set a bugle home to his mouthe, And blewe both loude and shrille : 150 And soone came lords, and soone came knights, Fast ryding over the hille. Nowe, out alas ! the tanner he cryde, That ever I sawe this daye ! Thou art a strong thiefe, yon come thy fel- lowes Will beare my cowe-hide away. 156 They are no thieves, the king replyde, I sweare, soe mote I thee : But they are the lords of the north countrey, Here come to hunt with mee. 160 And soone before our king they came, And knelt downe on the grounde : Then might the tanner have beene awaye, And had lever than twentye pounde. 202 AS YE CAME FROM THE HOLY LAND. A coller, a coller, here : sayd the king, 1G5 A coller he loud gan crye : Then woulde he lever then twentye pound, He had not beene so nip-he. A coller, a coller, the tanner he sayd, I trowe it will breed sorrowe : After a coller commeth a halter, I trow I shall be hanged to-morrowe. Be not afraid, tanner, said our king; I tell thee, so mought I thee, 170 Lo here I make thee the best esquire That is in the North countrie.* 175 For Plumpton-parke I will give thee, With tenements faire beside : 'Tis worth three hundred markes by the yeare, To maintaine thy good cowe-hide. 18C Gramercye, my liege, the tanner replyde, For the favour thou hast me showne ; If ever thou comest to merry Tamwdrth, Neates leather shall clout thy shoen. —- XVI. $s ge tame fam % ftolj f mh DIALOGUE BETWEEN A PILGRIM AND TRAVELLER. The scene of this song is the same as in Num. XIV. The pilgrimage to Walsingham suggested the plan of many popular pieces. In the Pepys collection, vol. I., p. 226, is a kind of interlude in the old ballad style, of which the first stanza alone is worth reprint- ing. As I went to "Walsingham, To the shrine with speede, Met I with a jolly palmer In a pilgrimes weede. Now God you save, you jolly palmer ! " Welcome, lady gay, Oft have I sued to thee for love." — Oft have I said you nay. The pilgrimages undertaken on pretence of religion, were often productive of affairs of gallantry, and led the votaries to no other shrine than that of Venus.* The following ballad was once very popu- lar ; it is quoted in Fletcher's " Knight of the burning pestle," Act. II., sc. ult., and in ano- ther old play, called, " Hans Beer-pot, his * Even in the time of Langland, pilgrimages to Walsing- ham were not unfavourable to the rites of Venus. Thus in his Virions of Pierce Plowman, fo. I. " Hermets on a heape, with hoked staves, Wenten to Walsingham, and her f wenches after." f V e. their. invisible Comedy, &c." 4to. 1618: Act I. The copy below was communicated to the Editor by the late Mr. Shenstone as corrected by him from an ancient copy, and supplied with a concluding stanza. We have placed this, and " Gentle Herds- man," &c, thus early in the work, upon a presumption that they must have been writ- ten, if not before the dissolution of the monasteries, yet while the remembrance of them was fresh in the minds of the people. As ye came from the holy land Of blessed Walsingham, met you not with my true love As by the way ye came ? * This stanza is restored from a quotation of this Ballad in Selden's "Titles of Honour," who produces it as a good authority to prove, that one mode of creating Esquires at that time, was by the imposition of a collar. His words are, "Nor is that old pamphlet of the Tanner of Tainworth and King Edward the Fourth so contemptible, but that wee may thence note also an observable passage, wherein the use of making Esquires, by giving collars, is expressed." (Sub Tit. Esquire; & vide in Spelmanni Glossar. Armiger.) This form of creating Esquires actually exists at this day among the Sergeants at Arms, who are invested with a collar (which they wear on Collar Days) by the King himself. This information I owe to Samuel Pegge, Esq., to whom the Public is indebted for that curious work, the "Curi« alia," 4to. HARDYKNUTE. 20S " How should I know your true love, 5 That have met many a one, As I came from the holy land, That have both come, and gone ?" My love is neither white,* nor browne, But as the heavens faire ; 10 There is none hath her form divine, Either in earth, or ayre. " Such an one did I meet, good sir, With an angelicke face ; Who like a nymphe, a queene appeard 15 Both in her gait, her grace/' Yes : she hath cleane forsaken me, And left me all alone ; Who some time loved me as her life, And called me her owne. 20 " What is the cause she leaves thee thus, And a new way doth take, That some times loved thee as her life, And thee her joy did make?" I that loved her all my youth, 25 Growe old now as you see ; Love liketh not the falling fruite, Nor yet the withered tree. For love is like a carelesse childe, Forgetting promise past: 30 He is blind, or deaf, whenere he list; His faith is never fast. His fond desire is fickle found, And yieldes a trustlesse joye ; Wonne with a world of toil and care, 35 And lost ev'n with a toye. Such is the love of womankinde, Or Loves faire name abusde, Beneathe which many vaine desires, And follyes are excusde, 40 ' But true love is a lasting fire, Which viewless vestals* tend, That burnes for ever in the soule, And knowes nor change, nor end.' XVII. Jjarfogltnttit A SCOTTISH FRAGMENT. As this fine morsel of heroic poetry hath generally passed for ancient, it is here thrown to the end of our earliest pieces ; that such as doubt of its age, may the better compare it with other pieces of genuine antiquity. For after all, there is more than reason to suspect, that it owes most of its beauties (if not its whole existence) to the pen of a lady, within the present century. The following particu- lars may be depended on. Mrs. Wardlaw, whose maiden name was Halket (aunt to the late Sir Peter Halket, of Pitferran, in Scot- land, who was killed in America, along with General Braddock, in 1755), pretended she had found this poem, written on shreds of paper, employed for what is called the bottoms of clues. A suspicion arose that it was her own composition. Some able judges asserted it to be modern. The lady did in a manner ac- knowladge it to be so. Being desired to show an additional stanza, as a proof of this, she produced the two last, beginning with "There's nae light," &c, which were not in the copy that was first printed. The late Lord President Forbes, and Sir Gilbert Elliot, of Minto (late Lord Justice Clerk for Scot- land), who had believed it ancient, contributed to the expense of publishing the first Edition, in folio, 1719. This account was transmitted from Scotland by Sjr David Dalrymple, the late Lord Hailes, who yet was of opinion, that part of the ballad may be ancient ; but retouched and much enlarged by the lady above mentioned. Indeed he had been in- * sc. Angels. 204 HARDYKNUTE. formed, that the late William Thompson, the Scottish musician, who published the "Or- pheus Caledonia/' 1733, 2 vols. 8vo., de- clared he had hoard Fragments of it repeated in his infancy, before Mrs. Wardlaw's copy was heard of. The Poem is here printed from the original Edition, as it was prepared for the press with the additional improvements. (See below, page 208.) i. Stately stept he east the wa', And stately stept he west, Full seventy years he now had seen, Wi' scarce seven years of rest. He liv'd when Britons breach of faith 5 Wrought Scotland mickle wae : And ay his sword tauld to their cost, He was their deadlye fae High on a hill his castle stood, With ha's and tow'rs a height 10 And goodly chambers fair to se, Where he lodged mony a knight. His dame sae peerless anes and fair, For chast and beauty deem'd Nae marrow had in all the land, 15 Save Elenor the queen. in. Full thirteen sons to him she bare, All men of valour stout : In bloody fight with sword in hand Nine lost their lives bot doubt : 20 Four yet remain, lang may they live To stand by liege and land ; High was their fame, high was their might, And high was their command. Great love they bare to Fairly fair Their sister saft and dear, Her girdle shaw'd her middle gimp, And gowden glist her hair. What waefu' wae her beauty bred ! Waefu' to young and auld, Waefu' I trow to kyth and kin, As story ever tauld. The King of Norse in summer tyde, Puff'd up with pow'r and might, 25 30 Landed in fair Scotland the isle 36 With mony a hardy, knight. The tydings to our good Scots king Came, as he sat at dine, With noble chiefs in brave aray, Drinking the blood-red wine. 40 " To horse, to horse, my royal liege, Your faes stand on the strand, Full twenty thousand glittering spears The king of Norse commands. " Bring me my steed Mage dapple gray, 45 Our good king rose and cry'd, A trustier beast in a' the land A Scots king nevir try'd. VII. Go little page, tell Hardyknute, That lives on hill sae hie, 50 To draw his sword, the dread of faes, And haste and follow me. The little page flew swift as dart Flung by his master's arm, " Come down, come down, lord Hardyknute, And rid your king frae harm." 56 Then red red grew his dark brown cheeks, Sae did his dark-brown brow ; His looks grew keen as they were wont In dangers great to do; 60 He's ta'en a horn as green as glass, And gi'en five sounds sae shill, That trees in green wood shook thereat, Sae loud rang ilka hill. IX. 65 His sons in manly sport and glee, Had past that summer's morn, When low down in a grassy dale, They heard their. father's horn. That horn, quo' they, ne'er sounds in peace, We've other sport to bide. 70 And soon they hy'd them up the hill, And soon were at his side. " Late late the yestreen I ween'd in peace To end my lengthened life, My age might well excuse my arm 75 Frae manly feats of strife, But now that Norse do's proudly boast Fair Scotland to inthrall, HARDYKNUTE. 205 It's ne'er be said of Hardyknute, He fear'd to fight or fall. 80 XI. " Robin of Rothsay, bend thy bow, Thy arrows shoot sae leel, That mony a comely countenance They've turned to deadly pale. Brade Thomas, take you but your lance, 85 You need nae weapons mair, If you fight wi't as you did anes 'Gainst Westmoreland's fierce heir. XII. " And Malcolm, light of foot as stag That runs in forest wild, 90 Get me my thousands three of men Well bred to sword and shield : Bring me my horse and harnisine, My blade of mettal clear. If faes but ken'd the hand it bare, 95 They soon had fled for fear. " Farewell my dame sae peerless good, (And took her by the hand), Fairer to me in age you seem, Than maids for beauty fam'd. 100 My youngest son shall here remain To guard these stately towers, And shut the silver bolt that keeps Sae fast your painted bowers." XIV. And first she wet her comely cheiks, 105 And then her boddice green, Her silken cords of twirtle twist, Well plett with silver sheen ; And apron set with mony a dice Of needle-wark sae rare, 110 Wove by nae hand, as ye may guess, Save that of Fairly fair. And he has ridden o'er muir and moss, O'er hills and mony a glen, When he came to a wounded knight 115 Making a heavy mane ; " Here maun I lye, here maun I dye, By treacherie's false guiles ; Witless I was that e'er ga faith To wicked woman's smiles." 120 " Sir knight, gin you were in my bower, To lean on silken seat, My lady's kindly care you'd prove, Who ne'er knew deadly hate. Herself wou'd watch you a' the day, 125 Her maids a dead of night ; And Fairly fair your heart wou'd chear, As she stands in your sight. XVII. "Arise, young knight, and mount your stead ; Full lowns the shynand day : 130 Choose frae my menzie whom ye please To lead you on the way." With smileless look, and visage wan, The wounded knight reply'd, " Kind chieftain, your intent pursue, 135 For here I maun abyde. To me nae after day nor night Can e're be sweet or fair, But soon beneath some draping tree, Cauld death shall end my care." 140 With him nae pleading might prevail ; Brave Hardyknute to gain With fairest words, and reason strong, Strave courteously in vain. XIX. 145 Syne he has gane far hynd out o'er Lord Chattan' s land sae wide ; That lord a worthy wight was ay . When faes his courage sey'd : Of Pictish race by mother's side, When Picts rul'd Caledon, 150 Lord Chattan claim'd the princely maid, When he sav'd Pictish crown, Now with his fierce and stalwart train, He reach'd a rising hight, Quhair braid encampit on the dale, 155 Norss menzie lay in sicht. " Yonder my valiant sons and feirs Our raging revers wait On the unconquert Scottish sward To try with us their fate. 160 Make orisons to him that sav'd Our sauls upon the rude ; 200 HARDYKNUTE. Syne bravely shaw your veins are fill'd With Caledonian blude." Then furth he drew his trusty glave, 165 While thousands all around Drawn, frae their sheaths glanc'd in the sun ; And loud the bougies sound. xxir. To joyn his king adoun the hill In hast his merch he made, 170 While, playand pibrochs, niinstralls meit Afore him stately strade. "Thrice welcome valiant stoup of weir, Thy nations shield and pride; Thy king nae reason has to fear 175 When thou art by his side." When bows were bent and darts were thrawn; For thrang scarce cou'd they flee ; The darts clove arrows as they met, The arrows dart the tree. i80 Lang did they rage and fight fu' fierce, With little skaith to mon, But bloody bloody was the field, Ere that lang day was done. xxir. 185 The King of Scots, that sindle brook'd The war that look'd like play, Drew his braid sword, and brake his bow, Sin bows seem'd but delay. Quoth noble Rothsay, " Mine I'll keep, I wat it's bled a score. 190 Haste up my merry men, cry'd the king As he rode on before. The King of Norse he sought to find, With him to mense the faught, But on his forehead there did light 195 A sharp unsonsie shaft ; As he his hand put up to feel The wound, an arrow keen, waefu' chance ! there pinn'd his hand In midst between his een. 200 " Revenge, revenge, cry'd Rothsay's heir, Your mail-coat sha' na bide The strength and sharpness of my dart:" Then sent it through his side. Another arrow well he marked, 205 It pierced his neck in twa, His hands then quat the silver reins, He low as earth did fa'. XXVII. " Sair bleids my liege, sair, sair he bleids !" Again wi' might he drew 210 And gesture dread his sturdy bow, Fast the braid arrow flew : Wae to the knight he ettled at ; Lament now Queen Elgreed ; High dames too wail your darling's fall, 215 His youth and comely meed. " Take afF, take aff his costly jupe (Of gold well was it twin'd, Knit like the fowler's net, through quhilk His steelly harness shin'd) 22C Take, Norse, that gift frae me, and bid Him venge the blood it bears ; Say, if he face my bended bow, He sure nae weapon fears." XXIX. 225 Proud Norse with giant body tall, Braid shoulders and arms strong, Cry'd, " Where is Hardyknute sae fam 3 And fear'd at Britain's throne : Tho' Britons tremble at his name I soon shall make him wail, 230 That e'er my sword was made sae sharp, Sae saft his coat of mail." That brag his stout heart cou'd na bide, It lent him youthfu' micht : " I'm Hardyknute ; this day, he cry'd, 235 To Scotland's king I heght To lay thee low, as horses hoof; My word I mean to keep." Syne with the first stroke e'er he strake, He garr'd his body bleed. 240 XXXI. Norss' een like gray gosehawk's stair'd wyld, He sigh'd wi' shame and spite ; " Disgrac'd is now my far-fa m'd arm That left thee power to strike :" Then ga' his head a blow sae fell, 245 It made him doun to stoup, HARDYKNUTE. 207 As laigh as he to ladies us'd In courtly guise to but. XXXII. Fu' soon he rais'd his bent body, His bow he marvell'd sair, Sin blows till then on him but darr'd As touch of Fairly fair : Norse marvell'd too as sair as he To see his stately look : Sae soon as e'er he strake a fae, Sae soon his life he took. 250 255 "Where like a fire to heather set Bauld Thomas did advance, Ane sturdy fae with look enrag'd Up toward him did prance ; 260 He spurr'd his steid through thickest ranks The hardy youth to quell, Wha stood unmov'd at his approach His fury to repell. XXXIV. " That short brown shaft sae meanly trimm'd, Looks like poor Scotlands gear, 266 But dreadfull seems the rusty point !" And loud he leugh in jear. " Oft Britons blood has dimm'd its shine ; This point cut short their vaunt :" 270 Syne pierc'd the boasters bearded cheek ; Nae time he took to taunt. XXXV. Short while he in his saddle swang, His stirrup was nae stay, Sae feeble hang his unbent knee 275 Sure taiken he was fey : Swith on the harden't clay he fell, Right far was heard the thud : But Thomas look't nae as he lay All waltering in his blud : 280 With careless gesture, mind unmov't, On roade he north the plain ; His seem in throng of fiercest strife, When winner ay the same : Not yet his heart dames dimplet cheek 285 Could mease soft leve to bruik, Till vengefu' Ann return 'd his scorn, Then languid grew his luik. 27 XXXVII. In thraws of death, with walowit cheik, All panting on the plain, The fainting corps of warriours lay, Ne're to arise again ; Ne're to return to native land, Nae mair with blithsome sounds To boast the glories of the day, And shaw their shining wounds. XXXVIII. On Norways coast the widowit dame May wash the rocks with tears, May lang luik ow'r the shipless seas Before her mate appears. Cease, Emma, cease to hope in vain ; Thy lord lyes in the clay ; The valiant Scots nae revers thole To carry life away. XXXIX. 290 295 300 305 Here on a lee, where stands a cross Set up for monument, Thousands fu' fierce that summer's day FilPd keen war's black intent. Let Scots, while Scots, praise Hardyknute Let Norse the name ay dread, 310 Ay how he faught, aft how he spar'd Shall latest ages read. Now loud and chill blew th' westlin wind, Sair beat the heavy shower, Mirk grew the night ere Hardyknute 315 Wan near his stately tower. His tow'r that us'd wi' torches blaze To shine sae far at night, Seem'd now as black as mourning weed, Nae marvel sair he sighed. 320 XLI. " There's nae light in my lady's bower, There's nae light in my ha' ; Nae blink shines round my Fairly fair, Nor ward stands on my wa'. " What bodes it ? Robert, Thomas, say ;"— Nae answer fitts their dread. 326 " Stand back, my sons, I'le be your guide !" But by they past with speed. As fast I've sped o'er Scotlands faes," — There ceas'd his brag of weir, 330 208 HARDYKNUTE. Sair sham'd to mind ought but his dame, And maiden Fairly fair. Black fear he felt, but what to fear He wist nae yet ; wi' dread Sair shook his body, sair his limbs, 335 And a' the warrior fled. * * -x- * * *#* In an elegant publication, entitled " Scottish Tragic Ballads, printed by and for J. Nichols, 1781, 8vo.," may be seen a con- tinuation of the ballad of Hardyknute, by the addition of a " Second Part/' which hath since been acknowledged to be his own com- position, by the ingenious Editor — To whom the late Sir D. Dalrymple communicated (subsequent to the account drawn up above in p. 203) extracts of a letter from Sir John Bruce, of Kinross, to Lord Binning, which plainly proves the pretended discoverer of the fragment of Hardyknute to have been Sir John Bruce himself. His words are, " To perform my promise, I send you a true copy of the Manuscript I found some weeks ago in a vault at Dumferline. It is written on vel- lum in a fair Gothic character, but so much defaced by time, as you'll find, that the tenth part is not legible." He then gives the whole fragment as it was first published in 1719, save one or two stanzas, marking several pas- sages as having perished by being illegible in the old MS. Hence it appears that Sir John was the author of Hardyknute, but af- terwards used Mrs. Wardlaw to be the mid- wife of his poetry, and suppressed the story of the vault; as is well observed by the Edi- tor of the Tragic Ballads, and of Maitland's Scot. Poets, vol. I. p. cxxvii. To this gentleman we are indebted for the use of the copy, whence the second edition was afterwards printed, as the same was prepared for the press by John Clerk, M. D., of Edinburgh, an intimate companion of Lord President Forbes. The title of the first edition was, " Hardy- knute, a Fragment. Edinburgh, printed for James Watson, &c, 1719," folio, 12 pages. Stanzas not in the first edition are, Nos. 17, 18, 20, 21, 22, 23, 34, 35, 36, 37, 41, 42. In the present impression the orthography of Dr. Clerk's copy has been preserved, and his readings carefully followed, except in a few instances, wherein the common edition appeared preferable : viz. He had in ver. 20, but, — v. 56, of harm, — v. 64, evert/, — v. 67, lo down, — v. 83, That omitted, — v. 89, And omitted, — v. 143, With argument but vainly strave Lang. — v. 148, saifd. — v. 155, incam- pit on the plain. — v. 156, Norse squadrons. — v. 158, regand revers. — v. 170, his strides he bent. — v. 171, minstrals play and Pibrochs fine. — v. 172, statety went. — v. 182, mon. — v. 196, sharp and fatal. — v. 219, ivhich. — v. 241, stood wyld. — Stanza 39 preceded stanza 38. — v. 305, There. — v. 313, blew wrestling. — v. 336 had originally been, He fear 'd a' cou'd be fear'd. The editor was also informed, on the au- thority of Dr. David Clerk, M. D., of Edin- burgh (son of the aforesaid Dr. John Clerk), that between the present stanzas 36 and 37, the two following had been intended, but were on maturer consideration omitted, and do not now appear among the MS. additions : Now darts flew wavering through slaw speede, Scarce could they reach their aim ; Or reach'd, scarce blood the round point drew, 'Twas all but shot in vain : Righ strengthy arms forfeebled grew, Sair wreck'd wi' that day's toils: E'en fierce-born minds now lang'd for peace. And cur'd war's cruel broils. Yet still wars horns sounded to charge, Swords clash'd and harness rang ; But saftly sae ilk blaster blew The hills and dales fraemang. Nae echo heard in double dints, Nor the lang-winding horn, Nae mair she blew out brade as she Did eir that summers morn. THE END OF BOOK THE FIRST. A BALLAD OF LUTHER, ETC. 209 SERIES THE SECOND. BOOK II. $, $dlato 0f f «%r t % f 0ge, a (fcMnal, mrtr a Jttitotatt, In the former Book we brought down this second Series of poems as low as about the middle of tho sixteenth century. We now find the Muses deeply engaged in religious controversy. The sudden revolution wrought in the opinions of mankind by the Reforma- tion, is one of the most striking events in the history of the human mind. It could not but engross the attention of every individual in that age, and therefore no other writings would have any chance to be read, but such as related to this grand topic. The altera- tions made in the established religion by Henry VIII., the sudden changes it under- went in the three succeeding reigns within so short a space as eleven or twelve years, and the violent struggles between expiring Popery and growing Protestantism, could not but interest all mankind. Accordingly every pen was engaged in the dispute. The fol- lowers of the Old and New Profession (as they, were called) had their respective ballad- makers ; and every clay produced some popu- lar sonnet for or against the Reformation. The following ballad, and that entitled " Lit- tle John Nobody," may serve for specimens of the writings of each party. Both were written in the reign of Edward VI. ; and are not the worst that were composed upon the occasion. Controversial divinity is no friend to poetic flights. Yet this ballad of " Luther and the Pope," is not altogether devoid of spirit ; it is of the dramatic kind, and the characters are tolerably well sustained ; espe- cially that of Luther, which is made to speak in a manner not unbecoming the spirit and courage of that vigorous reformer. It is printed from the original black-letter copy (in the Pepys collection, vol. I., folio), to which is prefixed a large wooden cut, designed and executed by some eminent master. "We are no. co wonder that the ballad- writers of that age should be inspired with the zeal of controversy, when the very stage teemed with polemic divinity. I have now before me two very ancient quarto black-letter plays: the one published in the time of Henry VIII., entitled "Every Man ;" the other called " Lusty Juventus," printed in the reign of Edward VI. In the former of these, occasion is taken to inculcate great reverence for old mother church and her superstitions :* in the other, the poet (one R. Wever) with great success attacks both. So that the stage in those days literally was, what wise men have always wished it — a supplement to the pul- pit : — this was so much the case, that in the play of " Lusty Juventus," chapter and verse are every where quoted as formally as in a sermon ; take an instance : " The Lord by his prophet Ezechiei sayeth in this wise playnlye, As in the xxxiij chapter it doth appere : Be converted, ye children. &c." * Take a specimen from his high encomiums on the priesthood : "There is no emperour, kyng, duke, ne baron. That of God hath commissyon, As hath the leest preest in the world beynge. * * * God hath to them more power gyven, Than to any aungell, that is in heven; With v. words he may consecrate Goddes body in fiesshe, and blode to take. And handeleth his maker bytweene his handes. The preest byndeth and unbindeth all bandes, Both in erthe and in heven. — Thou ministers all the sacramentes seven. Though we kyst thy fete thou were worthy ; Thou art the surgyan that cureth synne dedly : No remedy may we fynde under God, But alone on preest hode. God gave preest that dignite. * And letteth them in his stede anion ge us be, Thus be they above aungels in degre." See Hawkins's Orig. of Eng. Drama, Vol. 1. p. 61. 210 A BALLAD OF LUTHER, ETC. From this play we learn that most of the young people were New Gospellers, or friends to the Reformation, and that the old were tenacious of the doctrines imbibed in their youth : for thus the devil is introduced la- menting the downfall of superstition : " The olde people would believe stil in my lawes, But the yonger sort leade them a contrary way, They wyl not beleve, they playnly say, In olde traditions, and made by men, &c." And in another place Hypocrisy urges, " The worlde was never meri Since chyldren were so boulde ; Now every boy will be a teacher, The father a foole, the chylde a preacher." Of the plays above mentioned, to the first is subjoined the following, Printer's Colo- phon, ^f " Thus endeth this moral playe of Every Man. fl Imprinted at London in Powles chyrche yarde by me John Skot." In Mr. Garrick's collection is an imperfect copy of the same play, printed by Richarde Pynson. The other is intitled, "An interlude called Lufty Juventus :" and is thus distinguished at the end : " Finis, quod R. Wever. Im- prynted at London in Paules churche yeard by Abraham Dele at the signe of the Lambe." Of this, too, Mr. Garrick has an imperfect copy of a different edition. Of these two plays the reader may find some further particulars in Series the First, Book II., see " The Essay on the Origin of the English Stage ;" and the curious reader will find the plays themselves printed at large in Hawkins's "Origin of the English Drama," 3 vols., Oxford, 1773, 12mo. THE HUSBANDMAN. Let us lift up our hartes all, And prayse the Lordes magnificence, Which hath given the wolues a fall, And is become our strong defence : For they thorowe a false pretens 5 From Christes bloude dyd all us leade,* * i. e. denied us> the Cup, see below, ver. 94. Gettynge from every man his pence, As satisfactours for the deade. For what we with our Flayles coulde get To kepe our house, and survauntes ; 10 That did the Freers from us fet, And with our soules played the mer- chauntes : And thus they with theyr false warrantee Of our sweate have easelye lyved, That for fatnesse theyr belyes pantes, 15 So greatlye have they us deceaued. They spared not the fatherlesse, The carefull, nor the pore wydowe ; They wolde have somewhat more or lesse, If it above the ground did growe : 20 But now we husbandmen do knowe Al their subteltye, and theyr false caste ; For the Lorde hath them overthrowe With his swete word now at the laste. DOCTOR MARTIN LUTHER. 25 Thou antichrist, with thy thre crownes, Has usurped kynges powers, As having power over realmes and townes, Whom thou oughtest to serve all houres. Thou thinkest by thy jugglyng colours Thou maist lykewise Gods word oppresse ; As do the deceatful foulers, 31 When they theyr nettes craftelye dresse. Thou flatterest every prince, and lord, Thretening poore men with swearde and fyre; All those, that do followe Gods worde, 35 To make them cleve to thy desire, Theyr bokes thou burnest in flaming fire ; Cursing with boke, bell, and candell, Such as to reade them have desyre, Or with them are wyllynge to meddell. 40 Thy false power wyl I bryng down, Thou shalt not raygne many a yere, I shall dryve the from citye and towne, Even with this pen that thou seyste here : Thou fyghtest with swerd, shylde, and speare, 45 But I wyll fyght with Gods worde ; Which is now so open and cleare, That it shall brynge the under the horde.* * i. e. Make thee knock under the table. JOHN ANDERSON MY JO. 2H THE POPE. Though I brought never so many to hel, And to utter dampnaoion, 50 Throughe myne ensample, and consel, Or thorow any abhominacion, Yet doth our lawe excuse my fashion. And thou, Luther, arte accursed ; For blamynge me, and my condicion, 55 The holy decres have the condempned. Thou stryvest against my purgatory, Because thou findest it not in scripture ; As though I by myne auctorite Myght not make one for myne honoure. 60 K no west thou not, that I have power To make, and mar, in heaven and hell, In erth, and every creature ? Whatsoever I do it must be well. As for scripture, I am above it ; Am not I Gods hye vicare ? Shulde I be bounde to followe it, As the carpenter his ruler?* Nay, nay, hereticks ye are, That will not obey my auctoritie. With this sworde I wyll declare, That ye shal al accursed be. 65 70 THE CARDINAL. I am a Cardinall of Rome, Sent from Christes hye vicary, To graunt pardon to more, and sume, 75 That wil Luther resist strongly: He is a greate hereticke treuly, And regardeth to much the scripture; For he thinketh onely thereby To subdue the popes high honoure: 80 Receive ye this pardon devoutely, And loke that ye agaynst him fight; Plucke up your herts, and be manlye, For the pope sayth ye do but ryght : And this be sure, that at one flyghte, 85 Allthough ye be overcome by chaunce, Ye shall to heaven go with greate myghte ; God can make you no resistaunce. But these heretikes for their medlynge Shal go down to hel every one ; For they have not the popes blessynge, Nor regard his holy pardon : * They thinke from all destruction By Christes bloud to be saved, Fearynge not our excommunicacion, Therefore shall they al be dampned. 90 95 II. $0|pt $nhrs0it mjr $0, A SCOTTISH SONG. While in England verse was made the ve- hicle of controversy, and Popery was attacked in it by logical argument, or stinging satire; we may be sure the zeal of the Scottish Re- formers would not suffer their pens to be idle, but many a pasquil was discharged at the Romish priests, and their enormous encroach- ments on property. Of this kind perhaps is the following (preserved in Maitland's MS. Collection of Scottish poems in the Pepysian library) : " Tak a Wobster, that is leill, And a Miller, that will not steill, * i. e. his rule. With ane Priest, that is not gredy, And lay ane deid corpse thame by, And, throw virtue of thame three, That deid corpse sail qwyknit be." Thus far all was fair: but the furious hatred of Popery led them to employ their rhymes in a still more licentious manner. It is a received tradition in Scotland, that at the time of the Reformation, ridiculous and ob- scene songs were composed to be sung by the rabble to the tunes of the most favourite hymns in the Latin service. Green sleeves and pudding pies (designed to ridicule the popish clergy) is said to have been one of these metamorphosed hymns : Maggy Lauder 212 LITTLE JOHN NOBODY. was another: John Anderson my jo was a third. The original music of all these bur- lesque sonnets was very fine. To give a spe- cimen of their manner, we have inserted one of the least offensive. The reader will par- don the meanness of the composition for the sake of the anecdote, which strongly marks the spirit of the times. In the present edition this song is much improved by some new readings communi- cated by a friend ; who thinks by the " Seven Bairns/' in st. 2d, are meant the Seven Sa- craments ; five of which were the spurious off- spring of Mother Church : as the first stanza contains a satirical allusion to the luxury of the popish clergy. The adaptation of solemn church music to these ludicrous pieces, and the jumble of ideas, thereby occasioned, will account for the following fact. — From the Records of the General Assembly in Scotland, called " The Book of the Universal Kirk," p. 90, 7th July, 1568, it appears, that Thomas Bassendyne, printer in Edinburgh, printed " a psalm c buik, in the end whereof was found printit anebaudy sang, called 'Welcome Fortunes.'"* John Anderson my jo, cum in as ze gae by, And ze sail get a sheips heid weel baken in a pye : Weel baken in a pye, and the haggis in a pat ; John Anderson my jo, cum in, and ze's get that. MAN. And how doe ze, Cummer ? and how hae ze threven ? And how mony bairns hae ze ? Wom. Cum- mer, I hae seven. Man. Are they to zour awin gude man ? Wom. Na, Cummer, na ; For five of tham were gotten, quhan he was awa'. III. little %z\n $aMu. We have here a witty libel on the Reforma- tion under King Edward VI., written about the year 1550, and preserved in the Pepys collection, British Museum, and Stripe's Me- moirs of Cranmer. The author artfully de- clines entering into the merits of the cause, and wholly reflects on the lives and actions of many of the reformed. It is so easy to find flaws and imperfections in the conduct of men, even the best of them, and still easier to make general exclamations about the profligacy of the present times, that no great point is gained by arguments of that sort, unless the author could have proved that the principles of the reformed religion had a natural ten- dency to produce a corruption of manners ; whereas he indirectly owns, that their Reve- rend Father [Archbishop Cranmer] had used the most proper means to stem the torrent, by giving the people access to the Scriptures, by teaching them to pray with understand- ing, and by publishing homilies and other religious tracts. It must however be acknow- ledged, that our libeller had at that time suf- ficient room for just satire. For under the banners of the reformed had enlisted them- selves, many concealed papists, who had pri- vate ends to gratify ; many that were of no religion ; many greedy courtiers, who thirsted after the possessions of the church ; and many dissolute persons, who wanted to be exempt from all ecclesiastical censures : and as these men were loudest of all others in their cries for Reformation, so in effect none obstructed the regular progress of it so much, or by their vicious lives brought vexation and shame more on the truly venerable and pious Reformers. The reader will remark the fondness of our satirist for alliteration: in this he was guilty of no affectation or singularity ; his versifica- tion is that of Pierce Plowman's Visions, in * See also Biograph. Briant. 1st ed. vol. i. p. 17T. LITTLE JOHN NOBODY. 213 which a recurrence of similar letters is essen- tial: to this he has only superadded rhyme, which in his time began to be the general practice. See an Essay on this very peculiar kind of metre, prefixed to Book III. in this Series. In december, vrhen the dayes draw to be short, After november, when the nights wax noy- some and long ; As I past by a place privily at a port, I saw one sit by himself making a song : His last* talk of trifles, who told with his tongue That few were fast i' th' faith. I ' freyned'f that freake, Whether he w r anted wit, or some had done him wrong. He said, he was little John Nobody, that durst not speake. John Nobody, quoth I, what news ? thou soon note and tell What maner men thou meane, thou are so mad. He said, These gay gallants, that wil con- strue the gospel, As Solomon the sage, with semblance full sad ; To discusse divinity they nought adread ; More meet it were for them to milk kye at a fleyke. Thdu lyest, quoth I, thou losel, like a leud lad. He said he was little John Nobody, that durst not speake. Its meet for every man on this matter to talk, And the glorious gospel ghostly to have in mind ; It is sothe said, that sect but much unseemly skalk, As boyes babble in books, that in scripture are blind : Yet to their fancy soon a cause will find ; As to live in lust, in lechery to leyke : Such caitives count to be come of Cains kind ;J But that I little John Nobody durst not speake. * Perhaps He left talk. f feigned, MSS. and P. C. I Cains kiud.] So in Pierce the Plowman's creed, the proud friars are said to be " Of Caymes kind." Tid. Sig. C. ij. b. For our reverend father hath set forth an order, Our service to be said in our seignours tongue; ! As Solomon the sage set forth the scripture; I Our suffrages, and services, w T ith many a sweet song, I With homilies, and godly books us among, That no stiff, stubborn stomacks we should freyke : ; But wretches nere worse to do poor men wrong ; But that I little John Nobody dare not speake. For bribery was never so great, since born was our Lord, And whoredom was never les hated, sith Christ harrowed hel, And poor men are so sore punished common- ly through the world, That it would grieve any one, that good is, to hear tel. For al the homilies and good books, yet their hearts be so quel, That if a man do amisse, with mischiefe they wil him wreake ; The fashion of these new fellows it is so vile and fell : But that I little John Nobody dare not speake. Thus to live after their lust, that life would they have, And in lechery to leyke al their long life ; For al the preaching of Paul, yet many a proud knave Wil move mischiefe in their mind both to maid and wife To bring them in advoutry or else they wil strife, And in brawling about baudery, Gods com- mandments breake: But of these frantic il fellowes, few of them do thrife ; Though I little John Nobody dare not If thou company with them, they wil cur- rishly carp, and not care According to their foolish fantacy ; but fast wil they naught: Prayer with them is but prating ; therefore they it forbear : Both almes deeds, and holiness, they hate it in their thought : 214 THE HEIR OF LINNE. Therefore pray we to that prince, that with his bloud us bought, That he wil mend that is amiss : for many a manful freyke Is sorry for these sects, though they say little or nought ; And that I little John Nobody dare not once speake. Thus in no place, this Nobody, in no time I met, Where no man, ' ne'* nought was, nor no- thing did appear ; Through the sound of a synagogue for sor- row I swett, That ' Aeolus'* though the eccho did cause me to hear. Then I drew me down into a dale, whereas the dumb deer Did shiver for a shower ; but I shunted from a freyke : For I would no wight in this world wist who I were, But little John Nobody, that dare not once speake. IV.