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Pitt  Press  Series 


BALLADS    AND    POEMS 

ILLUSTRATING 
ENGLISH   HISTORY 


CAMBRIDGE    UNIVERSITY    PRESS 

Honlrott     FETTER   LANE,   E.G. 

C.    F.    CLAY,    Manager 


aHCintrnglj :    loo,   PRINCES   STREET 

Bnlin:    A.  ASHER  AND  CO. 

EeipMs:    F.   A.    BROCKHAUS 

f.tia  1ml; :    G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

ISombag  nnti  aTalciitta:    MACMILLAN  AND  Co.,  Ltd. 

^Toronto:    J.  M.   DENT  AND  SONS,   Ltd. 

grokso:    THE  MARUZEN-KABUSHIKI-KAISHA 


y^//  rischts  reserved 


BALLADS   AND    POEMS 

ILLUSTRATING 

ENGLISH   HISTORY 


Edited  by 
FRANK   SIDGWICK 


Cambridge: 

at  the  University  Press 

1913 


First  Edition  1907 

Reprinted  1907,   190S, 

1909-   '9^2,   lyi.. 


H5S3 


PREFACE. 

A  NUMBER  of  the  poems  in  this  book  are  to  "be 
found  in  many  similar  collections  of  historical 
poems,  and  only  the  limits  imposed  by  the  law  of 
copyright  have  prevented  the  inclusion  of  others,  such 
as  Tennyson's  Revenge.  It  is  hoped,  however,  that  this 
deficiency  may  be  more  than  compensated  by  the 
presence  of  many  less  hackneyed  poems,  and  in  particu- 
lar of  several  fine  ballads,  some  of  which  have  hitherto 
not  been  put  before  young  pupils.  While  it  must  be 
admitted  that  these  are  not  conspicuous  for  historical 
fidelity,  I  venture  to  think  that  their  literary  interest 
is  a  distinct  advantage  for  educational  purposes;  and 
a  word  or  two  of  guidance  to  teachers  who  use  this 
book  may  not  be  out  of  place. 

Firstly,  every  piece  is  meant  to  be  learned  by 
heart,  and  half  a  dozen  at  least  have  tunes.  Secondly, 
the  distinctions  between  the  "  artistic "  poems,  the 
traditional  ballads,  and  the  "popular"  contemporary 
songs,  should  be  kept  clearly  in  the  pupil's  mind. 
Thirdly,  seeing  that  this  mixture  of  styles  has  neces- 
sitated an  arrangement  by  chronological  order  of 
subject-matter,  each  piece  should  be  so  dealt  with  that 


VI  PREFACE 

the  pupil  realises  the  conditions  under  which  it  was 
written.  To  this  end  I  have  added,  to  the  notes  on  the 
"  artistic "  poems,  short  accounts  of  their  respective 
authors,  and  have  elaborated  the  notes  on  the  tradi- 
tional and  "popular  "  poems  and  ballads.  Proper  handl- 
ing of  certain  ballads  will  arouse  interest  in  the  methods 
of  oral  tradition.  In  the  note  to  King  John  and  the 
Abbot  of  Canterbury  a  hint,  easily  expanded,  is  given 
of  the  vogue  which  such  folk-tales  may  enjoy.  The 
poems  by  Hawker  and  Wolfe  have  interesting  literary 
histories,  which  serve  to  demonstrate  that  "  artistic " 
poems  may  occasionally  undergo  experiences  similar  to 
those  of  "  popular  "  verse. 

The  best  method  of  expounding  each  poem,  accord- 
ing as  it  narrates,  disguises,  or  illustrates  history,  will 
be  easily  decided  by  the  teacher,  who  will  find  that  the 
fulness  or  paucity  of  the  notes  is  in  inverse  ratio  to  the 
amount  of  information  ordinarily  accessible  in  history- 
books.  Etymological  notes  are  almost  entirely  omitted, 
in  the  belief  that  interest  in  the  growth  of  a  language 
is  of  later  development  than  that  interest  in  the  growth 
of  a  nation  and  its  literature  which  this  book 
endeavours  to   stimulate. 

E.   S. 

January  1907. 


CONTENTS. 


A.D. 

PAGB 

61 

Boadicea 

W.    COWPER 

1 

1020 

King  Canute     .... 

.   W.  M.  Thackeray 

3 

1120 

He  Never  Smiled  Again  . 

.    Mrs.  Hemans 

8 

King  John  and  the  Abbot  of  Canterbury  .   Tkad.  Ballad 

9 

1265 

Lament  for  Simon  de  Montfort 

Tr.  by  G.  Ellis 

13 

Robin  Hood  and  the  Three  Squires 

.  Trad.  Ballad 

16 

Bold  Eobin       .... 

T.  L.  Peacock 

20 

1346 

Durham  Field  .... 

.  Trad.  Ballad 

22 

1388 

Chevy  Chase     .... 

.  Trad.  Ballad 

31 

1411 

The  Battle  of  Harlaw      . 

.  Trad.  Ballad 

41 

1415 

The  Agincourt  Song 

Contemporary  Poem 

45 

1415 

King  Henry  Vs  Conquest  of  Fran 

Be      .  Trad.  Ballad 

46 

1415 

Agincourt 

M.  Drayton 

49 

1480 

The  Eose  of  England 

.  Trad.  Ballad 

53 

1511 

Sir  Andrew  Barton  . 

.  Trad.  Ballad 

58 

1513 

Flodden  Field  .... 

.  Trad.  Ballad 

70 

1513 

Edinburgh  after  Flodden 

W.  E.  Aytoun 

72 

1530 

Dick  o'  the  Cow 

.  Trad.  BaiiLAd 

86 

1568 

Earl  Bothwell  .... 

.  Trad.  Ballad 

95 

1569 

The  Eising  in  the  North 

.  Trad.  Ballad 

97 

1584 

Mary  Ambree   .... 

.  Trad.  Ballad 

103 

158- 

Brave  Lord  Willoughby  . 

<        .        Anon. 

lOG 

Vlll 


CONTENTS 


A.D. 

1588  The  Armada     ..... 

1588  The  Defeat  of  the  Spanish  Armada 

1595  The  Fame  ,of  Sir  Francis  Drake 

1605  Captain  Ward  and  the  Rainbow 

1643  When  the  King  enjoys  his  own  ag 

1644  Sir  Nicholas  at  Marston  Moor 

1645  The  Battle  of  Naseby      . 
1648  On  the  Lord  General  Fairfax 
1650  Cromwell's  Eeturn  from  Ireland 
1652  To  Cromwell    . 
1666  The  Fire  of  Loudon 

1688  The  Song  of  the  Western  Men 

1689  The  Burial  March  of  Dundee 
1702  Admiral  Benbow 
1704  After  Blenheim 
1720  The  Vicar  of  Bray  . 
1773  The  Boston  Tea-Party     . 
1782  The  Loss  of  the  Royal  George 
1801  The  Battle  of  the  Baltic 
1805  The  Happy  Warrior 
1807  Ye  Mariners  of  England  . 
1809  The  Burial  of  Sir  John  Moor 
1815  Waterloo  .... 
1815  England's  Dead 
1837  Victoria's  Tears 
1852  Ode  on  the  Death  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington 

LoBD  Tennyson 

1854  The  Charge  of  the  Light  Brigade   .        Lord  Tennyson 


LoKD  Macaulay 

.        Anon. 

Anon. 

Trad.  Ballad 

M.  Parker 

W.  M.  Praed 

Lord  Macadlay 

John  Milton 

A.  Marvell 

John  Milton 

John  Dryden 

R.  S.  Hawker 

W.  E.  Aytoun 

Anon. 

r.  southey 

Anon. 

W.  Holmes 

W.    Co'ttTER 

T.  Campbell 

W.  Wordsworth 

T.  Campbell 

Chaeles  WoiiFE 

Lord • Byron 

Mrs.  Hemans 

Mrs.  Browning 


PAGE 

09 


O. 


Notes 185 


BALLADS  AND  POEMS 

ILLUSTRATING  ENGLISH   HISTOHY 

BOADICEA 
(A,D.  61) 

When  tlie  British  warrior  Queen, 
Bleeding  from  the  Koman  rods, 

Sought,  with  an  indignant  mien, 
Counsel  of  her  country's  gods. 

Sage  beneath  a  spreading  oak. 

Sat  the  Druid,  hoary  chief, 
Every  burning  word  he  spoke 

Full  of  rage,  and  full  of  grief. 

"Princess!  if  our  aged  eyes 
Weep  upon  thy  matchless  wrongs, 

"lis  because  resentment  ties 
All  the  terrors  of  our  tongues. 

"Rome  shall  perish— write  that  word 
In  the  blood  that  she  has  spilt; 

Perish,  hopeless  and  abhorr'd, 
Deep  in  ruin  as  in  guilt. 


s. 


I 


BALLADS    AND    POEMS 

"  Rome,  for  empire  far  renown' d, 
Tramples  on  a  thousand  states; 

Soon  her  pride  shall  kiss  the  ground — 
Hark !    the  Gaul  is  at  her  gates  1  2 

"Other  Romans  shall  arise, 

Heedless  of  a  soldier's  name; 
Sounds,  not  arms,  shall  win  the  prize 

Harmony  the  path  to  fame. 

"Then  the  progeny  that  springs 

From  the  forests  of  our  land, 
Arm'd  with  thunder,  clad  with  wings, 

Shall  a  wider  world  command. 

"  Regions  Caesar  never  knew 

Thy  posterity  shall  sway;  30 

Where  his  eagles  never  flew, 

None  invincible  as  they." 

Such  the  bard's  prophetic  words. 

Pregnant  with  celestial  fire, 
Bending  as  he  swept  the  chords 

Of  his  sweet  but  awful  lyre. 

She,  with  all  a  monarch's  pride, 

Felt  them  in  her  bosom  glow : 
Rush'd  to  battle,  fought,  and  died; 

Dying,  hurl'd  them  at  the  foe.  40 

**  Ruffians,  pitiless  as  proud, 

Heaven  awards  the  vengeance  due; 

Empire  is  on  us  bestow'd. 

Shame  and  ruin  wait  for  you." 

William  Cowper. 


KING   CANUTE  o 

KING  CANUTE 
(1020) 

King  Canute  was  weary-hearted;  he  had  reigned  for 

years  a  score, 
Battling,  struggling,  pushing,  fighting,  killing   mach 

and  robbing  more ; 
And   he   thought   upon  his   actions,  walking  by   the 

wild  sea-shore. 

'Twixt  the  chancellor  and  bishop  walked  the  king  with 

steps  sedate, 
Chamberlains  and  grooms  came  after,  silversticks  and 

goldsticks  great. 
Chaplains,  aides-de-camp,  and  pages — all  the  officers 

of  state, 

Sliding  after  like  his  shadow,  pausing  when  he  chose 

to  pause; 
If  a  frown  his  face  contracted,  straight  the  courtiers 

dropped  their  jaws ; 
If  to  laugh  the  king  was  minded,  out  they  burst  in 

loud  hee-haws. 

But  that  day  a  something  vexed  him,  that  was  clear 
to  old  and  young:  lo 

Thrice  his  grace  had  yawned  at  table,  when  his 
favourite  gleemen  sung, 

Once  the  queen  would  have  consoled  him,  but  he  bade 
her  hold  her  tongue. 

1—2 


4  BALLADS    AND    POEMS 

"  Sometliing  ails  my  gracious  master,"  cried  the  keeper 

of  the  seal. 
"  Sure,  my  lord,  it  is  the  lampreys  served  at  dinner,  or 

the  veal ?  " 
"Pshaw!"  exclaimed  the  angry  monarch.     "Keeper, 

'tis  not  that  I  feel. 

"  'Tis  the  heart,  and  not  the  dinner,  fool,  that  doth  my 

rest  impair: 
Can  a  king  be  great  as  I  am,  prithee,  and  yet  know  no 

care  ? 
Oh,  I'm  sick,  and  tired,  and  weary." — Some  one  cried, 

"  The  king's  arm-chair  ! " 

Then  towards  the  lackeys  turning,  quick  my  lord  the 

keeper  nodded. 
Straight  the  king's  great  chair  was  brought  him,  by 

two  footmen  able-bodied;  20 

Languidly  he  sank  into  it :  it  was  comfortably  wadded. 

"  Leading  on  my  fierce  companions,"  cried  he,  "  over 

storm  and  brine, 
I  have  fought  and  I  have  conquered!     Where  was 

glory  like  to  mine  ?  " 
Loudly  all  the  courtiers  echoed :  "  Where  is  glory  like 

to  thine  ?  " 

"  What  avail   me   all   my   kingdoms  ?     Weary  am   I 

now  and  old ; 
Those  fair  sons  I  have  begotten,  long  to  see  me  dead 

and  cold; 
Would  I  were,  and  quiet  buried,  underneath  the  silent 

mould! 


KING  CANUTE  6 

"Oil,   remorse,   the   writhing   serpent!    at  my   bosom 

tears  and  bites; 
Horrid,  horrid  things  I  look  on,  though  I  put  out  all 

the  lights; 
Ghosts  of  ghastly  recollections  troop  about  my  bed  at 

nights.  30 

"Cities  burning,  convents  blazing,  red  with  sacrilegious 

fires; 
Mothers  weeping,  virgins  screaming  vainly  for  their 

slaughtered  sires." — 
"  Such  a  tender  conscience,"  cries  the  bishop,  "  every 

one  admires. 

"  But  for  such  unpleasant  bygones,  cease,  my  gracious 

lord,  to  search. 
They're  forgotten  and  forgiven  by  our  Holy  Mother 

Church ; 
Never,  never  does  she  leave   her  benefactors   in   the 

lurch. 

"  Look !    the   land   is   crowned   with   minsters,   which 

your  grace's  bounty  raised; 
Abbeys  filled  with  holy  men,  where  you  and  Heaven 

are  daily  praised ; 
You,  my  lord,  to  think  of  dying?  on  my  conscience  I'm 

amazed ! " 

"  Nay,  I  feel,"  replied  King  Canute,  "  that  my  end  is 
drawing  near."  40 

"  Don't  say  so,"  exclaimed  the  courtiers  (striving  each 
to  squeeze  a  tear). 

"  Sure  your  grace  is  strong  and  lusty,  and  may  live 
this  fifty  year." 


6  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

"  Live   these   fifty   years ! "    the   bishop   roared,   with 

actions  made  to  suit. 
"Are  you  mad,  my  good  lord  keeper,  thus  to  speak  of 

King  Canute  1 
Men  have  lived  a  thousand  years,  and  sure  his  majesty 

will  do  't. 

"Adam,      Enoch,      Lamech,      Cainan,      Mahalaleel, 

Methuselah, 
Lived  nine  hundred  years  apiece,  and  mayn't  the  king 

as  well  as  they?" 
"  Fervently,"  exclaimed  the  keeper,  "  fervently  I  trust 

he  may." 

"  He  to  die  ?  "  resumed  the  bishop.     "  He  a  mortal  like 

to  us  ? 
Death  was   not  for  him  intended,  though  communis 

omnibus :  50 

Keeper,  you  are  irreligious,  for  to  talk  and  cavil  thus. 

"  With  his  wondrous  skill  in  healing  ne'er  a  doctor  can 

compete. 
Loathsome  lepers,  if  he  touch  them,  start  up  clean  upon 

their  feet; 
Surely  he  could  raise  the  dead  up,  did  his  Highness 

think  it  meet, 

"  Did  not  once  the  Jewish  captain  stay  the  sun  upon 

the  hill, 
And,  the  while  he  slew  the  foemen,  bid  the  silver  moon 

stand  still  ? 
So,   no   doubt,  could  gracious  Canute,  if  it  were  his 

sacred  will." 


KING   CANUTE  7 

"  IMight  I  stay  the  sun  above  us,  good  Sir  Bishop  ?  " 

Canute  cried ; 
"Could   I  bid   the   silver  moon   to    pause    upon    her 

heavenly  ride  ? 
If  the  moon  obeys  my  orders,  sure  I  can  command  the 

tide.  60 

"  Will  the  advancing  waves  obey  me,  bishop,  if  I  make 

the  sign  ?  " 
Said  the  bishop,  bowing  lowly,  "  Land  and  sea,  my 

lord,  are  thine." 
Canute  turned  towards  the  ocean — "  Back !  "  he  said, 

"  thou  foaming  brine  ! 

"  From  the  sacred  shore  I  stand  on,  I  command  thee  to 

retreat ; 
Venture    not,   thou    stormy   rebel,   to    approach    thy 

master's  seat : 
Ocean,  be  thou  still !  I  bid  thee  come  not  nearer  to  my 

feet!" 

But  the  sullen  ocean  answered  with  a  louder,  deeper 

roar. 
And  the  rapid  waves  drew  nearer,  falling  sounding  on 

the  shore; 
Back  the  keeper  and  the  bishop,  back  the  king  and 

courtiers  bore. 

And  he   sternly  bade   them  never  more  to  kneel   to 
human  clay,  7° 

But  alone  to  praise  and  worship  That  which  earth  and 
seas  obey: 

And  his  golden  crown  of  empire  never  wore  he  from 
that  day. 

W.  M.  Thackeray. 


BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

HE  NEVER  SMILED  AGAIN 
(1120) 

The  bark  tliat  held  a  prince  went  do"\vn, 

The  sweeping  waves  rolled  on; 
And  what  was  England's  glorious  crown 

To  him  that  wept  a  son? 
He  lived — for  life  may  long  be  borne 

Ere  sorrow  break  its  chain; — 
Why  comes  not  death  to  those  who  mourn  ?- 

He  never  smiled  again ! 

There  stood  proud  forms  around  his  throne, 

The  stately  and  the  brave; 
Bat  which  could  fill  the  place  of  one, 

That  one  beneath  the  wave  ? 
Before  him  passed  the  young  and  fair, 

In  pleasure's  reckless  train; 
But  seas  dashed  o'er  his  son's  bright  hair — 

He  never  smiled  again! 

He  sat  where  festal  bowls  went  round, 

He  heard  the  minstrel  sing; 
He  saw  the  tourney's  victor  crowned 

Amidst  the  knightly  ring; 
A  murmur  of  the  restless  deep 

Was  blent  with  every  strain, 
A  voice  of  winds  that  would  not  sleep — 

He  never  smiled  again ! 


HE   NEVER   SMILED   AGAIN  9 

Hearts,  in  that  time,  closed  o'er  the  trace 

Of  vows  once  fondly  poured; 
And  strangers  took  the  kinsman's  place 

At  many  a  joyous  board  j 
Graves,  which  true  love  had  bathed  Avith  tears, 

Were  left  to  Heaven's  bright  rain;  30 

Fresh  hopes  were  born  for  other  years — 

He  never  smiled  again  I 

Mrs.  Hemans. 


KING  JOHN  AND  THE  ABBOT 
OF   CANTERBURY 

An  ancient  story  I'll  tell  you  anon 
Of  a  notable  prince,  that  was  called  King  John; 
And  he  ruled  England  with  main  and  with  might. 
For  he  did  great  wrong,  and  maintain'd  little  right. 

And  I'll  tell  you  a  story,  a  story  so  merry. 
Concerning  the  Abbot  of  Canterbury; 
How  for  his  house-keeping,  and  high  renown. 
They  rode  post  for  him  to  London  town. 

An  hundred  men,  the  king  did  hear  say, 

The  abbot  kept  in  his  house  every  day;  ic 

And  fifty  gold  chains,  without  any  doubt, 

In  velvet  coats  waited  the  abbot  about. 

"How  now,  father  abbot,  I  hear  it  of  thee, 
Thou  keepest  a  far  better  house  than  me. 
And  for  thy  house-keeping,  and  high  renown, 
I  fear  thou  work'st  treason  against  my  crown." 


10  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

"  My  liege,"  quo'  tlie  abbot,  "  I  would  it  were  known, 

I  never  spend  nothing  but  wliat  is  my  own; 

And  I  trust,  your  grace  will  do  me  no  dere, 

For  spending  of  my  own  true-gotten  gear."  20 

"Yes,  yes,  father  abbot,  thy  fault  it  is  liigh, 
And  now  for  the  same  thou  needest  must  die; 
For  except  thou  canst  answer  me  questions  three. 
Thy  head  shall  be  smitten  from  thy  body. 

"And  first,"  quo'  the  king,  "when  I'm  in  this  stead, 
With  my  crown  of  gold  so  fair  on  my  head. 
Among  all  my  liege-men  so  noble  of  birth. 
Thou  must  tell  me  to  one  penny  what  I  am  worth. 

"Secondly,  tell  me,  without  any  doubt. 
How  soon  I  may  ride  the  whole  world  about;  30 

And  at  the  third  question  thou  must  not  shrink, 
But  tell  me  here  truly  what  I  do  think." 

"0,  these  are  hard  questions  for  my  shallow  wit, 
Nor  I  cannot  answer  your  grace  as  yet; 
But  if  you  will  give  me  but  three  weeks'  space, 
I'll  do  my  endeavour  to  answer  your  grace." 

"Now  three  weeks'  space  to  thee  will  I  give, 
And  that  is  the  longest  time  thou  hast  to  live; 
For  if  thou  dost  not  answer  my  questions  three, 
Thy  lands  and  thy  livings  are  forfeit  to  me."  40 

Away  rode  the  abbot  all  sad  at  that  word, 
And  he  rode  to  Cambridge,  and  Oxenford; 
But  never  a  doctor  there  was  so  wise, 
That  could  with  his  learning  an  answer  devise. 


KING  JOHN  AND  THE  ABBOT  OF  CANTERBURY   11 

Then  home  rode  the  abbot  of  comfort  so  cold, 
And  he  met  his  shepherd  a  going  to  fold: 
"  How  now,  my  lord  abbot,  you  are  welcome  home ; 
What  news  do  you  bring  us  from  good  king  John?" 

"Sad  news,  sad  news,  shepherd,  I  must  give; 
That  I  have  but  three  days  more  to  live :  50 

For  if  I  do  not  answer  him  questions  three. 
My  head  will  be  smitten  from  my  body. 

"The  first  is  to  tell  him  there  in  that  stead. 
With  his  crown  of  gold  so  fair  on  his  head, 
Among  all  his  liege-men  so  noble  of  birth. 
To  withiu  one  penny  of  what  he  is  worth. 

"The  second,  to  tell  him,  without  any  doubt. 
How  soon  he  may  ride  this  whole  world  about: 
And  at  the  third  question  I  must  not  shrink, 
But  tell  him  there  truly  what  he  does  think,"  60 

"Now  cheer  up,  sir  abbot,  did  you  never  hear  yet, 
That  a  fool  he  may  learn  a  wise  man  wit? 
Lend  me  horse,  and  serving-men,  and  your  apparel. 
And  I'll  ride  to  London  to  answer  your  quarrel. 

"Nay,  frown  not,  if  it  hath  been  t'^ld  unto  me, 

I  am  like  your  lordship  as  ever  may  be: 

And  if  you  will  but  lend  me  your  gown, 

Tliere  is  none  shall  know  us  at  fair  London  town." 

"Now  horses,  and  serving-men  thou  shalt  have, 
W^ith  sumptuous  array  most  gallant  and  brave;       70 
With  crozier,  and  mitre,  and  rochet,  and  cope, 
Fit  to  appear  'fore  our  father  the  Pope." 


12  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

"  Now  welcome,  sir  abbot,"  the  king  he  did  say, 
"'Tis  well  thou'rt  come  back  to  keep  thy  day; 
For  an  if  thou  canst  answer  my  questions  three, 
Thy  life  and  thy  living  both  saved  shall  be. 

"And  first,  when  thou  seest  me  here  in  this  stead. 
With  my  crown  of  gold  so  fair  on  my  head. 
Among  all  my  liege-men  so  noble  of  birth, 
Tell  me  to  one  penny  what  I  am  worth."  So 

"For  thirty  pence  our  Saviour  was  sold 
Among  the  false  Jews,  as  I  have  been  told; 
And  twenty-nine  is  the  worth  of  thee. 
For  I  think  thou  art  one  penny  worser  than  he." 

The  king  he  laughed,  and  swore  by  St.  Bittel, 
"I  did  not  think  I  had  been  worth  so  little  1 
— Now  secondly  tell  me,  without  any  doubt. 
How  soon  I  may  ride  this  whole  world  about." 

"  You  must  rise  with  the  sun,  and  ride  with  the  same, 
Until  the  next  morning  he  riseth  again;  90 

And  then  your  grace  need  not  make  any  doubt, 
But  in  twenty-four  hours  you'll  ride  it  about." 

The  king  he  laughed,  and  swore  by  St.  John, 
"I  did  not  think  it  could  be  gone  so  soon! 
— Now  from  the  third  question  thou  must  not  shrink, 
But  tell  me  here  truly  what  I  do  think." 

"Yea,  that  I  shall  do,  and  make  your  grace  merry: 
You  think  I'm  the  abbot  of  Canterbury; 
But  I'm  his  poor  shepherd,  as  plain  you  may  see, 
That  am  come  to  beg  pardon  for  him  and  for  me."     100 


KING  JOHN  AND  THE  ABBOT  OF  CANTERBURY  13 

The  king  he  laughed,  and  swore  by  the  mass, 
"  I'll  make  thee  lord  abbot  this  day  in  his  place ! " 
"Now  nay,  my  liege,  be  not  in  such  speed, 
For  alack,  I  can  neither  write,  nor  read." 

"Four  nobles  a  week,  then,  I  will  give  thee. 
For  this  merry  jest  thou  hast  shown  unto  me; 
And  tell  the  old  abbot  when  thou  comest  home. 
Thou  hast   brought    him   a  pardon  from   good   king 
John." 

Traditional  Ballad. 


LAMENT  FOR  SIMON  DE  MONTFORT 
(Battle  of  Evesham,  1265) 

In  song  my  grief  shall  find  relief, 

Sad  is  my  verse  and  rude; 
I  sing  in  tears  our  gentle  peers 

Who  fell  for  England's  good. 
Our  peace  they  sought,  for  us  they  fought, 

For  us  they  dared  to  die; 
And  where  they  sleep,  a  mangled  heap. 

Their  wounds  for  vengeance  cry. 

On  Evesham's  plain  is  Montfort  slain, 

Well  shilVd  the  war  to  guide; 
Where  streams  his  gore  shall  all  deplore 

Fair  England's  flower  a^id  pride. 


14  BALLADS    AND   POEMS 

Ere  Tuesday's  sun  its  course  had  run 

Our  noblest  chiefs  had  bled. 
While  rush'd  to  fight  each  gallant  knight, 

Their  dastard  vassals  fled. 
Still  undismayed,  with  trenchant  blade 

They  hew'd  their  desperate  way: 
Not  strength  or  skill  to  Edward's  will, 

But  numbers  gave  the  day.  20 

On  Evesham's  plain,  &c. 

Tet,  by  the  blow  that  laid  thee  low, 

Brave  earl,  one  palm  was  given; 
Nor  less  at  thine  than  Becket's  shrine 

Shall  rise  our  vows  to  heaven! 
Our  church  and  laws,  your  common  cause, 

'Twas  his  the  church  to  save. 
Our  rights  restor'd,  thou,  generous  lord, 

Shalt  triumph  in  thy  grave. 
On  Evesham's  'plain,  &c.  30 

Dispenser  true,  the  good  sir  Hugh, 

Our  justice  and  our  friend. 
Borne  down  with  wrong,  amidst  the  throng, 

Has  met  his  wretched  end. 
Sir  Henry's  fate  need  I  relate. 

Our  Leicester's  gallant  son. 
Or  many  a  score  of  heroes  more 

By  Gloucester's  hate  undone? 
On  Evesham's  plain,  &c. 

Each  righteous  lord  who  braved  the  sword,       40 

And  for  our  safety  died, 
AVith  conscience  pure  shall  aye  endure, 

Our  martyr'd  saint  beside. 


LAMENT   FOR  SIMON   DE   MON'J'FOKT  15 

Tliat  martyr'd  saint  was  never  faint 

To  ease  the  poor  man's  care; 
With  gracious  will  he  shall  fulfil 

Our  just  and  earnest  prayer. 

On  Evesham's  'plain,  &c. 

On  Montfort's  breast  a  hair-cloth  vest 

His  pious  soul  proclaim'd ;  50 

With  ruffian  hand,  the  ruthless  band 

That  sacred  emblem  maim'd : 
And,  to  assuage  their  impious  rage, 

His  lifeless  corpse  defaced. 
Whose  powerful  arm  long  saved  from  harm 

The  realm  his  virtues  graced. 

On  Evesham's  plain,  &c. 

Brave  martyr'd  chief!    no  more  our  grief 

For  thee  or  thine  shall  flow; 
Among  the  bless'd  in  heaven  ye  rest  60 

From  all  your  toils  below. 
But  for  the  few,  the  gallant  croAv, 

Who  here  in  bonds  remain, 
Christ  condescend  their  woes  to  end, 

And  break  the  tyrant's  chain! 

On  Evesham's  plain,  &c. 

Tr.  by  G.  Ellis. 


16  BALLADS  AND   POEMS 


EOBIN  HOOD  AND  THE  THREE  SQUIRES 

There  are  twelve  months  in  all  the  year, 

As  I  hear  many  men  say, 
But  the  merriest  month  in  all  the  year 

Is  the  merry  month  of  May. 

Now  Robin  Hood  is  to  Nottingham  gone, 

With  a  link  a  down  and  a  day, 
And  there  he  met  a  silly  old  woman, 

Was  weeping  on  the  way. 

"What  news,  what  news,  thou  silly  old  woman? 

What  news  hast  thou  for  me  ?  "  lo 

Said  she,  "There's  three  squires  in  Nottingham  town 

To-day  is  condemned  to  die." 

"  0  what  have  they  done  ?  "  said  Robin  Hood, 

"I  pray  thee  tell  to  me." 
"It's  for  slaying  of  the  King's  fallow  deer, 

Bearing  their  long-bows  with  thee." 

Now  Robin  Hood  is  to  Nottingham  gone, 

With  a  link  a  dotvn  and  a  day, 
And  there  he  met  with  a  silly  old  palmer. 

Was  walking  along  the  highway.  20 

"What  news,  what  news,  thou  silly  old  man? 

What  news,  I  do  thee  pray." 
Said  he,  "Three  squires  in  Nottingham  town 

Are  condemned  to  die  this  day." 


ROBIN    HOOD   AND  THE   THREE   SQUIRES  17 

"Come,  change  thy  apparel  with  me,  old  man. 

Come,  change  thy  apparel  for  mine; 
Here  is  forty  shilHngs  in  good  silver — 

Go  drink  it  in  beer  or  wine." 

"O  thine  apparel  is  good,"  he  said, 

"And  mine  is  ragged  and  torn;  30 

Wherever  you  go,  wherever  you  ride, 

Laugh  ne'er  an  old  man  to  scorn." 

"Come  change  thy  apparel  with  me,  old  churl. 

Come  change  thy  apparel  with  mine ; 
Here  are  twenty  pieces  of  good  broad  gold. 

Go  feast  thy  brethren  with  wine." 

Then  he  put  on  the  old  man's  hat, 

It  stood  full  high  on  the  crown: 
"The  first  bold  bargain  that  I  come  at. 

It  shall  make  thee  come  down."  40 

Then  he  put  on  the  old  man's  cloak, 

Was  patched  black,  blue,  and  red; 
He  thought  no  shame  all  the  day  long 

To  wear  the  bags  of  bread. 

Then  he  put  on  the  old  man's  breeks, 

Was  patched  from  side  to  side. 
"By  the  truth  of  my  body,"  bold  Robin  can  say, 

"This  man  loved  little  pride." 

Then  he  put  on  the  old  man's  hose, 

Were  patched  from  knee  to  wrist:  50 

"By  the  truth  of  my  body,"  said  bold  Robin  Hood, 

"I'd  laugh  if  I  had  any  list." 

s.  2 


]8  BALLADS    AND    POEMS 

Then  lie  put  on  the  old  man's  shoes, 
Were  patched  both  beneath  and  aboon; 

Then  Robin  Hood  swore  a  solemn  oath, 
"It's  good  habit  that  makes  a  man." 

Now  Robin  Hood  is  to  Nottingham  gone, 

With  a  link  a  down  and  a  down, 
And  there  he  met  with  the  proud  sheriff, 

Was  walking  along  the  town.  60 

"0  save,  0  save,  O  sheriff,"  he  said, 

"O  save,  and  you  may  see; 
And  what  will  you  give  to  a  silly  old  man 

To-day  will  your  hangman  be?" 

"Some  suits,  some  suits,"  the  sheriff  he  said, 

"Some  suits  I'll  give  to  thee; 
Some  suits,  some  suits,  and  pence  thirteen 

To-day's  a  hangman's  fee." 

Then  Robin  he  turns  him  round  about, 

And  jumps  from  stock  to  stone;  70 

"By  the  truth  of  my  body,"  the  sheriff  he  said, 

"That's  well  jumpt,  thou  nimble  old  man." 

"I  was  ne'er  a  hangman  in  all  my  life, 

Nor  yet  intend  to  trade; 
But  curst  be  he,"  said  bold  Robin, 

"That  first  a  hangman  was  made. 

I've  a  bag  for  meal,  and  a  bag  for  malt, 
And  a  bag  for  barley  and  corn; 
A  bag  for  bread,  and  a  bag  for  beef. 
And  a  ba?  for  my  little  smaU  horn.  80 


ROBIN   HOOD   AND   THE  THREE   SQUIRES  19 

"I  have  a  horn  in  my  pocket, 

I  got  it  from  Robin  Hood; 
And  still  when  I  set  it  to  my  mouth, 

For  thee  it  blows  little  good." 

"O  wind  thy  horn,  thou  proud  fellow, 

Of  thee  I  have  no  doubt; 
I  wish  that  thou  give  such  a  blast 

Till  both  thine  eyes  fall  out." 

The  first  loud  blast  that  he  did  blow, 

He  blew  both  loud  and  shrill;  go 

A  hundred  and  fifty  of  Robin  Hood's  men 

Came  riding  over  the  hill. 

The  next  loud  blast  that  he  did  give, 

He  blew  both  loud  and  amain ; 
And  quickly  sixty  of  Robin  Hood's  men 

Came  shining  over  the  plain. 

"  0  who  are  you  ? "  the  sheriff  he  said, 

"  Come  tripping  over  the  lee  ?  " 
"They're  my  attendants,"  brave  Robin  did  say, 

"  They'll  pay  a  visit  to  thee."  loo 

They  took  the  gallows  from  the  slack, 

They  set  it  in  the  glen; 
They  hanged  the  proud  sheriff  on  that, 

Released  their  own  three  men. 

Traditional  Ballad. 


2—2 


20  BALLADS    AND    POEMS 


BOLD  EOBIN. 

Bold  Robin  has  robed  him  in  ghostly  attire, 
And  forth  he  is  gone  like  a  holy  friar, 

Singing,  hey  down,  ho  down,  down,  derry  down: 
And  of  two  grey  friars  he  soon  was  aware, 
RegaKng  themselves  with  dainty  fare, 

All  on  the  fallen  leaves  so  brown. 

"  Good  morrow,  good  brothers,"  said  bold  Robin  Hood, 
"And  what  make  you  in  good  greenwood? 

Singing,  hey  down,  ho  down,  down,  derry  down: 
Now  give  me,  I  pray  you,  wine  and  food;  lo 

For  none  can  I  find  in  the  good  greenwood, 

All  on  the  fallen  leaves  so  brown." 

"Good  brother,"  they  said,  "we  would  give  you  full 

fain, 
But  we  have  no  more  than  enough  for  twain. 

Singing,  hey  down,  ho  down,  down,  derry  down." 
"  Then  give  me  some  money,"  said  bold  Robin  Hood, 
"For  none  can  I  find  in  the  good  greenwood, 

All  on  the  fallen  leaves  so  brown." 

"No  money  have  we,  good  brother,"  said  they: 
"Then,"  said  he,  "we  three  for  money  will  pray,    20 

Singing,  hey  down,  ho  down,  down,  derry  down: 
And  whatever  shall  come  at  the  end  of  our  prayer, 
We  three  holy  friars  will  piously  share, 

All  on  the  fallen  leaves  so  brown." 


BOLD   ROBIN  21 

"  We  will  not  pray  with  thee,  good  brother,  God  wot ; 
For  truly,  good  brother,  thou  pleases  us  not. 

Singing,  hey  down,  ho  down,  down,  derry  down." 
Then  up  they  both  started  from  Robin  to  run, 
But  down  on  their  knees  Robin  pulled  them  each  one. 

All  on  the  fallen  leaves  so  brown.  30 

The  grey  friars  prayed  with  a  doleful  face. 

But  bold  Robin  prayed  with  a  right  merry  grace. 

Singing,  hey  down,  ho  down,  down,  derry  down: 
And  when   they   had   prayed,  their  portmanteau  he 

took, 
And  from  it  a  hundred  good  angels  he  shook 

All  on  the  fallen  leaves  so  brown. 

"The  saints,"  said  bold  Robin,  "have  hearkened  our 

prayer. 
And  here's  a  good  angel  apiece  for  your  share; 
If  more  you  would  have,  you  must  win  ere  you  wear. 

Singing,  hey  down,  ho  down,  down,  derry  down."   40 
Then  he  blew  his  good  horn  with  a  musical  cheer, 
And  fifty  green  bowmen  came  trooping  full  near, 
And  away  the  grey  friars  they  bounded  like  deer, 

All  on  the  fallen  leaves  so  brown. 

T.  L.  Peacock. 


22  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

DURHAM  FIELD. 
(1346) 

Lordings,  listen  and  hold  you  still; 

Hearken  to  me  a  little  spell; 
I  sliall  you  tell  of  the  fairest  battle 

That  ever  in  England  befell. 

For  as  it  befell  in  Edward  the  Third's  days, 
In  England,  where  he  ware  the  crown, 

Then  all  the  chief  chivalry  of  England 
They  busked  and  made  them  boun. 

They  chosen  all  the  best  archers 

That  in  England  might  be  found,  lo 

And  all  was  to  fight  with  the  Bang  of  France, 

Within  a  little  stound. 

And  when  our  King  was  over  the  water, 

And  on  the  salt  sea  gone, 
Then  tidings  into  Scotland  came 

That  all  England  was  gone. 

Bows  and  arrows  they  were  all  forth, 

At  home  was  not  left  a  man 
But  shepherds  and  millers  both, 

And  priests  with  shaven  crowns.  20 

Then  the  King  of  Scots  in  a  study  stood, 

As  he  was  a  man  of  great  might; 
He  sware  he  would  hold   his   Parliament  in  leeve 
London, 

If  he  could  ride  there  right. 


DURHAM   FIELD  23 

Then  bespake  a  squire,  of  Scotland  born, 

And  said  "My  liege,  apace, 
Before  you  come  to  leeve  London, 

Full  sore  you'll  rue  that  race. 

"There  been  bold  yeomen  in  merry  England, 
Husbandmen  stiff  and  strong;  30 

Sharp  swords  they  done  wear, 
Bearen  bows  and  arrows  long.'* 

The  King  was  angry  at  that  word; 

A  long  sword  out  he  drew, 
And  there  before  his  royal  company 

His  own  squire  he  slew. 

Hard  hansel  had  the  Scots  that  day, 

That  wrought  them  woe  enow. 
For  then  durst  not  a  Scot  speak  a  word 

For  hanging  at  a  bough.  40 

"The  Earl  of  Anguish,  where  art  thou? 

In  my  coat-armour  thou  shalt  be, 
And  thou  shalt  lead  the  forward 

Thorough  the  English  country. 

"Take  thee  York,"  then  said  the  King, 

"In  stead  whereas  it  doth  stand; 
I'll  make  thy  eldest  son  after  thee 

Heir  of  all  Northumberland. 

"The  Earl  of  Vaughan,  where  be  ye? 

In  my  coat-armour  thou  shalt  be;  50 

The  high  Peak  and  Derbyshire 

I  give  it  thee  to  thy  fee." 


24  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

Then  came  in  famous  Douglas, 

Says  "What  shall  my  meed  be? 
And  I'll  lead  the  vanward,  lord, 

Thorough  the  English  country." 

"Take  thee  Worcester,"  said  the  Eling, 

"Tewkesbury,  Kenilworth,  Burton  upon  Trent; 

Do  thou  not  say  another  day 

But  I  have  given  thee  lands  and  rent.  60 

"  Sir  Richard  of  Edinburgh,  where  are  ye  ? 

A  wise  man  in  this  war! 
I'll  give  thee  Bristow  and  the  shire 

The  time  that  we  come  there. 

"My  lord  Neville,  where  been  ye? 

You  must  in  these  wars  be; 
I'll  give  thee  Shrewsbury,"  says  the  King, 

"And  Coventry  fair  and  free. 

"My  lord  of  Hamilton,  where  art  thou? 

Thou  art  of  my  kin  full  nigh;  70 

ITl  give  thee  Lincoln  and  Lincolnshire, 

And  that's  enough  for  thee." 

By  then  came  in  William  Douglas, 

As  breme  as  any  boar; 
He  kneeled  him  down  upon  his  knees, 

In  his  heart  he  sighed  sore. 

Says  "I  have  served  you,  my  lovely  liege. 

These  thirty  winters  and  four, 
And  in  the  Marshes  between  England  and  Scotland, 

I  have  been  wounded  and  beaten  sore.  80 


DURHAM    FIELD  25 

"For  all  the  good  service  that  I  have  done, 

What  shall  my  meed  be  ? 
And  I  will  lead  the  vanward 

Thorough  the  English  country." 

"Ask  on,  Douglas,"  said  the  King, 

"And  granted  it  shall  be." 
"  Why  then,  I  ask  little  London,"  says  Will  Douglas, 

"Gotten  if  that  it  be." 

The  King  was  wrath,  and  rose  away; 

Says  "  Nay,  that  cannot  be !  90 

For  that  I  will  keep  for  my  chief  chamber, 

Gotten  if  it  be. 

"But  take  thee  North  Wales  and  Westchester, 

The  country  all  round  about, 
And  rewarded  thou  shalt  be. 

Of  that  take  thou  no  doubt." 

Five  score  knights  he  made  on  a  day. 

And  dubb'd  them  with  his  hands  j 
Rewarded  them  right  worthily 

With  the  towns  in  meny  England.  100 

And  when  the  fresh  knights  they  were  made, 

To  battle  they  busk  them  boun; 
James  Douglas  went  before. 

And  he  thought  to  have  won  him  shoon. 

But  they  were  met  in  a  morning  of  May 
With  the  communalty  of  little  England; 

But  there  'scaped  never  a  man  away, 
Through  the  might  of  Christes  hand. 


26  BALLADS   AND    POEMS 

But  all  only  James  Douglas; 

In  Durham  in  the  field  no 

An  arrow  struck  him  in  the  thigh; 

Fast  flings  he  towards  the  King. 

The  King  looked  toward  little  Durham, 

Says  "  All  things  is  not  well ! 
For  James  Douglas  bears  an  arrow  in  his  thigh, 

The  head  of  it  is  of  steel. 

"How  now,  James?"  then  said  the  King, 

"How  now,  how  may  this  be? 
And  where  been  all  thy  merry  men 

That  thou  took  hence  with  thee?"  120 

"But  cease,  my  King,"  says  James  Douglas, 

"  Alive  is  not  left  a  man ! " 
"Now  by  my  faith,"  says  the  King  of  the  Scots, 

"That  gate  was  evil  gone. 

"But  I'll  revenge  thy  quarrel  well. 

And  of  that  thou  may  be  fain; 
For  one  Scot  will  beat  five  Englishmen, 

If  they  meeten  them  on  the  plain." 

"Now  hold  your  tongue,"  says  James  Douglas, 
"For  in  faith  that  is  not  so;  130 

For  one  Englishman  is  worth  five  Scots, 
When  they  meeten  together  tho. 

"For  they  are  as  eager  men  to  fight 

As  a  falcon  upon  a  prey; 
Alas!   if  ever  they  win  the  vanward, 

There  scapes  no  man  away." 


DURHAM   FIELD  27 

"O  peace  thy  talking,"  said  tlie  King, 

"They  be  but  English  knaves, 
But  shepherds  and  millers  both. 

And  priests  with  their  staves."  140 

The  King  sent  forth  one  of  his  heralds  of  armes 

To  view  the  Englishmen. 
"Be  of  good  cheer,"  the  herald  said, 

"For  against  one  we  be  tea." 

"  Who  leads  those  lads  ? "  said  the  King  of  Scots, 

"Thou  herald,  tell  thou  me." 
The  herald  said  "The  Bishop  of  Durham 

Is  captain  of  that  company. 

"For  the  Bishop  hath  spread  the  King's  banner. 
And  to  battle  he  busks  him  boun."  150 

"I  swear  by  St  Andrew's  bones,"  says  the  King, 
"I'll  rap  that  priest  on  the  crown."' 

The  King  looked  towards  little  Durham, 

And  that  he  well  beheld, 
That  the  Earl  Percy  was  well  armed, 

With  his  battle-axe  entered  the  field. 

The  King  looked  again  towards  little  Durham, 

Four  ancients  there  see  he; 
There  were  two  standards,  six  in  a  valley. 

He  could  not  see  them  with  his  eye.  160 

My  lord  of  York  was  one  of  them, 

My  lord  of  Carlisle  was  the  other, 
And  my  lord  Fluwilliams, 

The  one  came  with  the  other. 


28  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

The  Bishop  of  Durham  commanded  his  men, 

And  shortly  he  them  bade, 
That  never  a  man  should  go  to  the  field  to  fight 

Till  he  had  served  his  God. 

Five  hundred  priests  said  mass  that  day 

In  Durham  in  the  field,  170 

And  afterwards,  as  I  heard  say. 
They  bare  both  spear  and  shield. 

The  Bishop  of  Durham  orders  himself  to  fight 

With  his  battle-axe  in  his  hand; 
He  said  "This  day  now  I  will  fight 

As  long  as  I  can  stand ! " 

"And  so  will  I,"  said  my  lord  of  Carlisle, 

"In  this  fair  morning  gay." 
"And  80  will  I,"  said  my  lord  Fluwilliams, 

"For  Mary,  that  mild  may."  180 

Our  English  archers  bent  their  bows 

Shortly  and  anon; 
They  shot  over  the  Scottish  host 

And  scantly  touched  a  man. 

"  Hold  down  your  hands,"  said  the  Bishop  of  Durham, 

"  My  archers  good  and  true." 
The  second  shoot  that  they  shot, 

Full  sore  the  Scots  it  rue. 

The  Bishop  of  Durham  spoke  on  high 

That  both  parties  might  hear.  190 

"  Be  of  good  cheer,  my  merry  men  all, 
The  Scots  flien  and  changen  their  cheer." 


DURHAM   FIELD  29 

But  as  they  saiden,  so  they  diden, 

They  fell  on  heapes  high; 
Our  Englishmen  laid  on  with  their  bows 

As  fast  as  they  might  dree. 

The  Eang  of  Scots  in  a  stady  stood 

Amongst  his  company; 
An  arrow  struck  him  thorough  the  nose, 

And  thorough  his  armoury.  200 

The  King  went  to  a  marsh-side 

And  light  beside  his  steed; 
He  leaned  him  down  on  his  sword-hilts 

To  let  his  nose  bleed. 

There  followed  him  a  yeoman  of  merry  England, 

His  name  was  John  of  Copland; 
"  Yield  thee,  traitor ! "   says  Copland  then, 

"Thy  life  lies  in  my  hand." 

"How  should  I  yield  me,"  says  the  King, 

"  And  thou  art  no  gentleman  ?  "  210 

"No,  by  my  troth,"  says  Copland  there, 
"I  am  but  a  poor  yeoman. 

"Wliat  art  thou  better  than  I,  sir  King? 

Tell  me,  if  that  thou  can ! 
What  art  thou  better  than  I,  sir  King, 

Now  we  be  but  man  to  man?" 

The  King  smote  angrily  at  Copland  then, 

Angrily  in  that  stound; 
And  then  Copland  was  a  bold  yeoman, 

And  bore  the  King  to  the  ground.  220 


30  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

He  set  the  King  upon  a  palfrej'', 

Himself  upon  a  steed; 
He  took  him  by  the  bridle-rein, 

Towards  London  he  'gan  him  lead. 

And  when  to  London  that  he  came, 

The  King  from  France  was  new  come  home, 

And  there  unto  the  King  of  Scots 
He  said  these  words  anon. 

'How  like  you  my  shepherds  and  my  millers? 

My  priests  with  shaven  crowns?"  230 

"By  my  faith,  they  are  the  sorest  fighting  men 

That  ever  I  met  on  the  ground. 

"There  was  never  a  yeoman  in  merry  England 
But  he  was  worth  a  Scottish  knight." 

"Ay,  by  my  troth,"  said  King  Edward,  and  laugh, 
"For  you  fought  all  against  the  right." 

But  now  the  prince  of  merry  England 

Worthily  under  his  shield 
Hath  taken  the  King  of  France, 

At  Poictiers  in  the  field.  240 

The  prince  did  present  his  father  with  that  food, 

The  lovely  King  of  France, 
And  forward  of  his  journey  he  is  gone. 

God  send  us  all  good  chance ! 

"  You  are  welcome,  brother ! "  said  the  King  of  Scots, 

"For  I  am  come  hither  too  soon; 
Christ  leve  that  I  had  taken  my  way 

Unto  the  court  of  Rome ! " 


DURHAM   FIELD  31 

"And  so  would  I,"  said  the  King  of  France, 
"  When  I  came  over  the  stream,  250 

That  I  had  taken  my  journey 
Unto  Jerusalem!" 

Thus  ends  the  battle  of  fair  Durham, 

In  one  morning  of  May, 
The  battle  of  Cre9y,  and  the  battle  of  Poictiers, 

All  within  one  monthes  day. 

Then  was  wealth  and  welfare  in  merry  England 

Solaces,  game,  and  glee, 
And  every  man  loved  other  well, 

And  the  King  loved  good  yeomanry.  260 

But  God  that  made  the  grass  to  grow 

And  leaves  on  greenwood  tree, 
Now  save  and  keep  our  noble  King, 

And  maintain  good  yeomanry ! 

Traditional  Ballad. 


CHEYT  CHASE. 
(1388) 

God  prosper  long  our  noble  King, 

Our  lives  and  safeties  all! 
A  woeful  Hunting  once  there  did 

In  Chevy  Chase  befall. 

To  drive  the  deer,  with  hound  and  horn. 

Earl  Percy  took  the  way; 
The  child  may  rue,  that  is  unborn, 

The  hunting  of  that  day! 


32  BALLADS  AND   POEMS 

The  stout  Earl  of  Northumberland 

A  vow  to  God  did  make, 
Btts  pleasure  in  the  Scottish  woods, 

Three  summer  days  to  take; 

The  chiefest  harts  in  Chevy  Chase, 

To  kill  and  bear  away. 
These  tidings  to  Earl  Douglas  came 

In  Scotland,  where  he  lay. 

Who  sent  Earl  Percy  present  word, 

He  would  prevent  his  sport. 
The  English  Earl,  not  fearing  that. 

Did  to  the  woods  resort 

With  fifteen  hundred  bowmen  bold, 

All  chosen  men  of  might. 
Who  knew  full  well,  in  time  of  need, 

To  aim  their  shafts  aright. 

The  gallant  greyhounds  swiftly  ran, 

To  chase  the  fallow  deer. 
On  Monday  they  began  to  hunt. 

Ere  daylight  did  appear; 

And  long  before  high  noon  they  had 

A  hundred  fat  bucks  slain: 
Then,  having  dined,  the  droviers  went 

To  rouse  the  deer  again. 

The  hounds  ran  swiftly  through  the  woods, 

The  nimble  deer  to  take. 
That  Avith  their  cries  the  hills  and  dales 

An  echo  shrill  did  make. 


30 


CHEVY   CHASE  33 

Lord  Percy  to  tlie  quarry  went, 

To  view  the  tender  deer, 
Quoth  he,  "Earl  Douglas  promised  once 

This  day  to  meet  me  here :  4° 

"But  if  I  thought  he  would  not  come, 

No  longer  would  I  stay ! " 
With  that  a  brave  young  gentleman 

Thus  to  the  Earl  did  say: 

"  Lo !   yonder  doth  Earl  Douglas  come, 

His  men  in  armour  bright; 
Full  twenty  hundred  Scottish  spears 

All  marching  in  our  sight  I 

"All  men  of  pleasant  Tividale, 

Fast  by  the  river  Tweed."  50 

"  0,  cease  your  sports ! "  Earl  Percy  said, 

"And  take  your  bows  with  speed; 

"And  now  with  me,  my  countrymen. 

Tour  courage  forth  advance; 
For  there  was  never  champion  yet. 

In  Scotland,  nor  in  France, 

"That  ever  did  on  horseback  come, 

But  and  if  my  hap  it  were, 
I  durst  encounter  man  for  man. 

With  him  to  break  a  spear!"  60 

Earl  Douglas,  on  his  milk-white  steed, 

Most  like  a  baron  bold. 
Rode  foremost  of  his  company, 

Whose  armour  shone  like  gold. 


34  BALLADS    AND   POEMS 

"  Show  me,"  said  he,  "  whose  men  ye  be, 

That  hunt  so  boldly  here — 
That,  without  my  consent,  do  chase 

And  kill  my  fallow  deer." 

The  first  man  that  did  answer  make, 

Was  noble  Percy  he,  70 

Who  said,  "We  list  not  to  declare, 
Nor  show  whose  men  we  be: 

"Yet  we  will  spend  our  dearest  blood. 

Thy  chiefest  harts  to  slay." 
Then  Douglas  swore  a  solemn  oath, 

And  thus  in  rage  did  say : 

"  Ere  thus  I  will  outbraved  be, 

One  of  us  two  shall  die: 
I  know  thee  well!     An  earl  thou  art; 

Lord  Percy,  so  am  I.  80 

"But,  trust  me,  Percy,  pity  it  were, 

And  great  offence,  to  kill 
Any  of  these,  our  guiltless  men. 

For  they  have  done  no  ill. 

"Let  thou  and  I  the  battle  try; 

And  set  our  men  aside." 
"Accursed  be  he,"  Earl  Percy  said, 

"  By  whom  it  is  denied  !  " 

Then  stepped  a  gallant  squire  forth, 
Witherington  was  his  name,  90 

Who  said,  "I  would  not  have  it  told 
To  Henry  our  King,  for  shame, 


CHEVY   CHASE  35 

"That  e'er  my  Captain  fought  on  foot, 

And  I  stood  looking  on. 
You  be  two  earls,"  quoth  Witherington, 

"And  I  a  squire  alone. 

"I'll  do  the  best  that  do  I  may, 

While  I  have  power  to  stand: 
While  I  have  power  to  wield  my  sword, 

rU  fight  with  heart  and  hand."  loo 

Our  English  archers  bent  their  bows. 
Their  hearts  were  good  and  true. 

At  the  first  flight  of  arrows  sent. 
Full  fourscore  Scots  they  slew. 

To  drive  the  deer  ^vith  hound  and  horn, 

Douglas  bade  on  the  bent. 
Two  captains  moved  with  mickle  might; 

Their  spears  to  shivers  went. 

They  closed  full  fast  on  every  side; 

No  slackness  there  was  found:  no 

But  many  a  gallant  gentleman 

Lay  gasping  on  the  ground. 

0  Christ!  it  was  great  grief  to  see, 

How  each  man  chose  his  spear, 
And  how  the  blood  out  of  their  breasts 

Did  gush  like  water  clear. 

At  last,  these  two  stout  earls  did  meet, 

Like  captains  of  great  might; 
Like  lions  wood  they  laid  on  load. 

And  made  a  cruel  fight:  12c 

3—2 


36  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

They  fought,  until  they  both  did  sweat, 
With  swords  of  tempered  steel, 

Till  blood  adoAvn  their  cheeks  like  rain 
They  trickling  down  did  feel. 

"0  yield  thee,  Percy,"  Douglas  said, 
"And  in  faith  I  will  thee  bring, 

Where  thou  shalt  high  advanced  be, 
By  James,  our  Scottish  Kingl 

"Thy  ransom  I  will  freely  give, 

And  this  report  of  thee —  130 

Thou  art  the  most  courageous  knight 

That  ever  I  did  see!" 

"No,  Douglas,"  quoth  Earl  Percy  then, 

"Thy  proffer  I  do  scorn; 
I  will  not  yield  to  any  Scot 

That  ever  yet  was  born!" 

With  that,  there  came  an  arrow  keen 

Out  of  an  English  bow, 
Which  struck  Earl  Douglas  on  the  breast 

A  deep  and  deadly  blow;  140 

Who  never  said  more  words  than  these, 

"  Fight  on,  my  merry  men  all  1 
Forwhy  my  life  is  at  an  end; 

Lord  Percy  sees  my  fall!" 

Then  leaving  life.  Earl  Percy  took 

The  dead  man  by  the  hand, 
Who  said,  "Earl  Douglas,  for  thy  sake, 

Would  I  had  lost  my  land  I 


CHEVY    CHASE  37 

"O  Christ!   my  very  heart  doth  bleed 

For  sorrow,  for  thy  sake,  150 

For,  sure,  a  more  redoubted  knight 
Mischance  could  never  take ! " 

A  knight  amongst  the  Scots  there  was, 

AVhich  saw  Earl  Douglas  die; 
Who  straight  in  heart  did  vow  revenge 

Upon  the  Lord  Peicy. 

Sir  Hugh  Montgomery  was  he  called  j 

Who,  with  a  spear  full  bright, 
Well  mounted  on  a  gallant  steed, 

Ran  fiercely  through  the  fight,  160 

And  passed  the  English  archers  all, 

Without  all  dread  or  fear; 
And  through  Earl  Percy's  body  then 

He  thrust  his  hateful  spear. 

With  such  a  vehement  force  and  might, 

His  body  he  did  gore, 
The  staff  ran  through  the  other  side, 

A  large  cloth-yard  and  more. 

Thus  did  both  those  nobles  die, 

Whose  courage  none  could  stain;  170 

An  English  archer  then  perceived 

The  noble  earl  was  slain. 

He  had  a  good  bow  in  his  hand, 

Made  of  a  trusty  tree. 
An  arrow  of  a  cloth-yard  long 

To  the  hard  head  haled  he. 


38  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

Against  Sir  Hugh  Montgomery, 

So  right  the  shaft  he  set; 
The  grey-goose  wing  that  was  thereon, 

In  his  heart's  blood  was  wet.  i8o 

This  fight  from  break  of  day  did  last 

1^11  setting  of  the  sun: 
For  when  they  rang  the  evening  bell, 

The  battle  scarce  was  done. 

With  stout  Earl  Percy  there  was  slain 

Sir  John  of  Egerton, 
Sir  Robert  Radclilfe,  and  Sir  John, 

Sir  James,  that  bold  Baron. 

And  with  Sir  George  and  stout  Sir  James, 
Both  knights  of  good  account,  190 

Good  Sir  Ralph  Raby  there  was  slain. 
Whose  prowess  did  surmount. 

For  Witherington  needs  must  I  wail. 

As  one  in  doleful  dumps, 
For  when  his  legs  were  smitten  off, 

He  fought  upon  his  stumps. 

And  with  Earl  Douglas  there  were  slain 

Sir  Hugh  Montgomery; 
And  Sir  Charles  Murray,  that  from  field 

One  foot  would  never  flee.  200 

Sir  Charles  Murray  of  Ratcliffe,  too, 

His  sister's  son  was  he : 
Sir  David  Lamb,  so  well  esteemed. 

But  saved  he  could  not  be. 


CHEVY   CHASE  39 

And  the  Lord  Maxwell,  in  like  case, 

Did  with.  Earl  Douglas  die. 
Of  twenty  hundred  Scottish  speara 

Scarce  fifty-five  did  fly. 

Of  fifteen  hundred  Englishmen, 

Went  home  but  fifty-three;  210 

The  rest  in  Chevy  Chase  were  slain, 

Under  the  greenwood  tree. 

Next  day  did  many  widows  come 

Their  husbands  to  bewail: 
They  washed  their  wounds  in  brinish  tears; 

But  all  would  not  prevail. 

Their  bodies,  bathed  in  purple  blood, 

They  bore  with  them  away. 
They  kissed  them,  dead,  a  thousand  times, 

Ere  they  were  clad  in  clay.  220 

The  news  was  brought  to  Edinborough, 
Where  Scotland's  king  did  reign. 

That  brave  Earl  Douglas  suddenly 
Was  with  an  arrow  slain. 

"0,  heavy  news!"  King  James  did  say, 

"  Scotland  may  witness  be, 
I  have  not  any  captain  more 

Of  such  account  as  he ! " 

Like  tidings  to  King  Henry  came, 

Within  as  short  a  space,  23° 

That  Percy  of  Northumberland, 

Was  slain  in  Chevy  Chase. 


40  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

"  Now,  God  be  with  him ! "  said  our  King, 

"Sith  it  will  no  better  be; 
I  trust  I  have,  within  my  realm, 

Five  hundred  as  good  as  he. 

"Yet  shall  not  Scots,  nor  Scotland,  say 

But  I  will  vengeance  take; 
And  be  revenged  on  them  all. 

For  brave  Earl  Percy^s  sake."  240 

This  vow  the  King  did  well  perform 

After,  on  Humbledown, 
In  one  day  fifty  knights  were  slain, 

With  lords  of  great  renown; 

And  of  the  rest,  of  small  account, 

Did  many  thousands  die. 
Thus  endeth  the  hunting  in  Chevy  Chase, 

Made  by  the  Earl  Percy. 

God  save  our  King;   and  bless  this  land 

With  plenty,  joy,  and  peace!  250 

And  grant  henceforth,  that  foul  debate 
'Twixt  noblemen  may  cease ! 

Traditional  Ballad. 


THE   BATTLE   OF   HARLAW  41 


THE  BATTLE  OF  HARLAW. 
(1411) 

As  I  cam  in  by  Dunidier, 

An'  doun  by  Netlierha', 
There  was  fifty  thousand  Hielan'men 

A-marching  to  Harlaw. 

Wi'  a  dree  dree  dradie  drumtie  dree. 

As  I  cam  on,  an'  farther  on, 

An'  doun  an'  by  Balquhain, 
Oh  there  I  met  Sir  James  the  Rose, 

Wi'  him  Sir  John  the  Gryme. 

"0  cam  ye  frae  the  Hielan's,  man?  lo 

An'  cam  ye  a'  the  wey? 
Saw  ye  Macdonell  an'  his  men, 

As  they  cam  frae  the  Skee?" 

"Yes,  me  cam  frae  ta  Hielan's,  man. 

An'  me  cam  a'  ta  wey. 
An'  she  saw  Macdonell  an'  his  men, 

As  they  cam  frae  ta  Skee." 

"Oh  was  ye  near  Macdonell's  men? 

Did  ye  their  numbers  see? 
Come,  tell  to  me,  John  Hielan'man,  20 

What  micht  their  numbers  be?" 

"Yes,  me  was  near,  an'  near  eneuch, 

An'  me  their  numbers  saw; 
There  was  fifty  thousan'  Hielan'men 

A-marchin'  to  Harlaw." 


4:2  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

"Gin  that  be  true,"  says  James  the  Rose, 

"We'll  no  come  meikle  speed; 
We'll  cry  upo'  our  merry  men, 

And  lichtly  mount  oui-  steed." 

"Oh  no,  oh  no/'  says  John  the  Grryme,  30 

"That  thing  maun  never  be; 
The  gallant  Grymes  were  never  bate, 

We'll  try  phat  we  can  dee." 

As  I  cam  on,  an'  farther  on. 

An'  doun  an'  by  Harlaw, 
They  fell  fu'  close  on  ilka  side; 

Sic  fun  ye  never  saw. 

They  fell  fu'  close  on  ilka  side. 

Sic  fun  ye  never  saw; 
For  Hielan'  swords  gi'ed  clash  for  clash,        40 

At  the  battle  o'  Harlaw. 

The  Hielan'men,  wi'  their  lang  swords, 

They  laid  on  us  fu'  sair. 
An'  they  drave  back  our  merry  men 

Three  acres  breadth  an'  mair. 

Brave  Forbes  to  his  brither  did  say, 

"Noo,  brither,  dinna  ye  see? 
They  beat  us  back  on  ilka  side. 

An'  we'se  be  forced  to  flee." 

"  Oh  no,  oh  no,  my  brither  dear,  50 

That  thing  maun  never  be; 
Tak'  ye  your  good  sword  in  your  hand. 

An'  come  your  wa's  wi'  me." 


THE   BATTLE   OF   HARLAW  43 

"Oh  no,  oil  no,  my  brither  dear, 

The  clans  tliey  are  ower  Strang, 
An'  they  drive  back  our  merry  men, 

Wi'  swords  baith  sharp  an'  lang.'* 

Brave  Forbes  drew  his  men  aside, 

Said  "Tak'  your  rest  awhile, 
Until  I  to  Drumminnor  send,  60 

To  fess  my  coat  o'  mail." 

The  servant  he  did  ride. 

An'  his  horse  it  did  na  fail, 
For  in  twa  hours  an'  a  quarter 

He  brocht  the  coat  o'  mail. 

Then  back  to  back  the  brithers  twa 

Gaed  in  amo'  the  thrang. 
An'  they  hewed  down  the  Hielan'men, 

Wi'  swords  baith  sharp  an'  lang. 

Macdonell  he  was  young  an'  stout,  70 

Had  on  his  coat  o'  mail, 
An'  he  has  gane  oot  throw  them  a'. 

To  try  his  han'  himsell. 

The  first  ae  straik  that  Forbes  strack. 

He  garrt  Macdonell  reel. 
An'  the  neist  ae  straik  that  Forbes  strack. 

The  great  Macdonell  fell. 

Aji'  siccan  a  lierachie 

I'm  sure  ye  never  saw 
As  wis  amo'  the  Hielan'men,  80 

When  they  saw  Macdonell  fa'. 


44  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

An'  when  they  saw  that  he  was  deid, 

They  turn'd  an'  ran  awa', 
An'  they  buried  him  in  Leggett's  Den, 

A  large  mile  frae  Harlaw. 

They  rade,  they  ran,  an'  some  did  gang, 

They  were  o'  sma'  record; 
But  Forbes  an'  his  merry  men. 

They  slew  them  a'  the  road. 

On  Monanday,  at  mornin',  go 

The  battle  it  began, 
On  Saturday,  at  gloamin', 

Ye'd  scarce  kent  wha  had  wan. 

An'  sic  a  weary  buryin' 

I'm  sure  ye  never  saw 
As  wis  the  Sunday  after  that. 

On  the  muirs  aneath  Harlaw. 

Gin  ony  body  speer  at  you 

For  them  ye  took  awa', 
Ye  may  tell  their  wives  and  bairnies  loo 

They're  sleepin'  at  Harlaw. 

Traditional  Ballad. 


THE   AGINCOURT  SONG  45 


\J  . 


THE  AGINCOURT  SONG. 
(1415) 

Our  king  went  forth  to  Normandy 
With  grace  and  might  of  chivalry; 
There  Grod  for  him  wrought  marvellously. 
Wherefore  England  may  call  and  cry 

Deo  gratias,  Anglia, 

Redde  pro  victoria  I 

He  set  a  siege,  the  sooth  for  to  say, 

To  Harfleur  town  with  royal  array. 

That  town  he  won,  and  made  a  fray 

That  France  shall  rue  till  Doomes-day.  lo 

Deo  gratias,  Anglia, 

Redde  pro  victoria  I 

Then  went  our  king,  with  all  his  host, 
Through  France,  for  all  the  Frenche  boast. 
He  spared  for  dread  of  least  nor  most 
Till  he  came  to  Agincourt  coast. 

Deo  gratias,  Anglia, 

Redde  pro  victoria  I 

Then  went  him  forth  our  king  comely, 

In  Agincourt  Field  he  fought  manly.  20 

Through  grace  of  God  most  marvellously 

He  had  both  field  and  victory. 

Deo  gratias,  Anglia, 

Redde  pro  victoria  ! 


46  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

There  lordes,  earles,  and  baroune, 
Were  slain  and  taken  and  that  full  soon, 
And  some  were  brought  into  London, 
With  joy  and  bliss  and  great  renown. 

Deo  gratias,  Anglia, 

Redde  pro  victoria  I  30 

Almighty  God,  he  keep  our  king, 
His  people,  and  all  his  well-willing, 
And  give  them  grace  without  ending  1 
Then  may  we  call  and  safely  sing 

Deo  gratias,  Anglia, 

Redde  pro  victoria  I 

Contemporary  Poem. 


KING  HENRY  THE  FIFTH'S  CONQUEST 
OF  FRANCE. 

(1415) 

As  our  king  lay  musing  on  his  bed. 

He  bethought  himself  upon  a  time 
Of  a  tribute  that  was  due  from  France, 

Had  not  been  paid  for  so  long  a  time. 

He  called  for  his  lovely  page. 

His  lovely  page  then  called  he, 
Saying,  "  You  must  go  to  the  king  of  France, 

To  the  king  of  France,  sir,  ride  speedily." 


KING   HENRY   THE   FIFTH's   CONQUEST   OF   FRANCE    47 

0  then  went  away  this  lovely  page, 

This  lovely  page  then  away  went  he;  lo 

And  when  he  came  to  the  king  of  France, 

Low  he  fell  down  on  his  bended  knee. 

"My  master  greets  you,  worthy  sir; 

Ten  ton  of  gold  that  is  due  to  he. 
That  you  will  send  him  his  tribute  home. 

Or  in  French  land  you  soon  will  him  see." 

"Your  master's  young  and  of  tender  years, 

Not  fit  to  come  into  my  degree, 
And  I  will  send  him  three  tennis-balls, 

That  with  them  he  may  learn  to  play."  20 

0  then  returned  this  lovely  page, 

This  lovely  page  then  returned  he, 
And  when  he  came  to  our  gracious  king, 

Low  he  fell  down  on  his  bended  knee. 

"Wliat  news,  what  news,  my  trusty  page? 

What  is  the  news  you  have  brought  to  me  ?  " 
"  I  have  brought  such  news  from  the  king  of  France, 

That  you  and  he  will  never  agree. 

"  He  say  you're  young  and  of  tender  years, 

Not  fit  to  come  into  his  degree,  3° 

And  he  will  send  you  three  tennis-balls, 
That  with  them  you  may  learn  to  play." 

"  Recruit  me  Cheshire  and  Lancashire, 

And  Derby  Hills  that  are  so  fi-ee  ; 
No  married  man,  nor  no  widow's  son; 

For  no  widow's  curse  shall  go  with  me.'* 


48  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

They  recruited  Cheshire  and  Lancashire, 

And  Derby  Hills  that  are  so  free ; 
No  married  man,  nor  no  widow's  son; 

Yet  there  was  a  bold  jovial  company.  40 

0  then  we  marched  into  the  French  land, 
With  drums  and  trumpets  so  merrily; 

And  then  bespoke  the  king  of  France, 
"Lo,  yonder  comes  proud  King  Henry." 

The  first  shot  that  the  Frenchmen  gave. 

They  killed  our  Englishmen  so  free; 
We  killed  ten  thousand  of  the  French, 

And  the  rest  of  them  they  ran  away. 

And  then  we  marched  to  Paris'  gates, 

With  drums  and  trumpets  so  merrily;  50 

0  then  bespoke  the  king  of  France, 

"  The  Lord  have  mercy  on  my  men  and  me ! 

"0  1  will  send  liim  his  tribute  home, 

Ten  ton  of  gold  that  is  due  to  he. 
And  the  finest  flower  that  is  in  all  France 

To  the  Rose  of  England  I  will  give  free." 

Traditional  Ballad. 


AGINCOURT  49 


AGINCOURT. 

(1415) 

Fair  stood  tlie  wind  for  France, 
When  we  our  sails  advance, 
Nor  now  to  prove  our  chance 

Longer  will  tarry; 
But  putting  to  the  main, 
At  Caux,  the  mouth  of  Seine, 
With  all  his  martial  train, 

Landed  King  Harry. 

And  taking  many  a  fort, 

Furnished  in  warlike  sort,  lo 

Marched  towards  Agincourfc 

In  happy  hour. 
Skirmishing  day  by  day 
With  those  that  stopped  his  way, 
Where  the  French  gen'ral  lay 

With  all  his  power : 

Which,  in  his  height  of  pride. 
King  Henry  to  deride, 
His  ransom  to  provide 

To  the  king  sending;  20 

Which  he  neglects  the  while 
As  from  a  nation  vile, 
Yet  >vith  an  angry  smile 

Their  fall  portending. 


50  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

And  turning  to  his  men, 
Quoth  our  brave  Henry  then, 
"Though  they  to  one  be  ten, 

13e  not  amazed. 
Yet  have  we  well  begun, 
Battles  so  biavely  won  30 

Have  ever  to  the  sun 

By  fame  been  raised. 
"And  for  myself,"  quoth  he, 
"This  my  full  rest  shall  be: 
England  ne'er  mourn  for  mc, 

Nor  more  esteem  me; 
Victor  I  will  remain 
Or  on  this  earth  lie  slain; 
Never  shall  she  sustain 

Loss  to  redeem  me.  40 

"Poitiers  and  Cressy  tell. 
When  most  their  pride  did  swell, 
Under  our  swords  they  fell; 

No  less  our  skill  is 
Than  when  our  grandsire  great. 
Claiming  the  regal  seat, 
By  many  a  warlike  feat 

Lopped  the  French  lilies." 
Tlic  Duke  of  York  so  dread 
The  eager  vaward  led;  50 

With  the  main  Henry  sped, 

Amongst  his  henchmen; 
Excester  had  the  rear, 
A  braver  man  not  there : 
0  Lord,  how  hot  they  were     - 

On  the  false  Frenchmen ! 


AGINCOURT  51 

They  now  to  fight  are  gone, 
Armour  on  armour  shone, 
Drum  now  to  drum  did  groan. 

To  hear  was  wonder ;  60 

That  with  the  cries  they  make 
The  very  earth  did  shake, 
Trumpet  to  trumpet  spake, 

Thunder  to  thunder. 

Well  it  thine  age  became, 
0  noble  Brpingham, 
Which  did  the  signal  aim 

To  our  hid  forces! 
When  from  a  meadow  by, 
Like  a  storm  suddenly,  70 

The  English  archery 

Struck  the  French  horses. 

With  Spanish  yew  so  strong. 
Arrows  a  cloth-yard  long, 
That  like  to  serpents  stung. 

Piercing  the  weather; 
None  from  his  fellow  starts, 
But  playing  manly  parts, 
And  like  true  English  hearts 

Stuck  close  together.  80 

When  down  their  bows  they  threw, 
And  forth  their  bilbos  drew, 
And  on  the  French  they  flew, 

Not  one  was  tardy; 
Arms  were  from  shoulders  sent, 
Scalps  to  the  teeth  were  rent, 
Down  the  French  peasants  went; 

Our  men  were  hardy. 

4—2 


52  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

This  while  our  noble  king, 

His  broadsword  brandishing,  90 

Do^syn  the  French  host  did  ding 

As  to  o'erwhelm  it, 
And  many  a  deep  wound  lent, 
His  arms  with  blood  besprent, 
And  many  a  cruel  dent 

Bruised  his  helmet. 

Glo'ster,  that  duke  so  good, 
Next  of  the  royal  blood, 
For  famous  England  stood, 

With  his  brave  brother ;  100 

Clarence,  in  steel  so  bright, 
Though  but  a  maiden  knight. 
Yet  in  that  furious  fight 

Scarce  such  another ! 

Warwick  in  blood  did  wade, 
Oxford  the  foe  invade. 
And  cruel  slaughter  made, 

Still  as  they  ran  up; 
Suffolk  his  axe  did  ply, 

Beaumont  and  Willoughby  no 

Bare  them  right  doughtily, 

Ferrers  and  Fanhope. 

Upon  Saint  Crispin's  Day 
Fought  was  this  noble  fi'ay, 
Wliich  fame  did  not  delay, 

To  England  to  carry. 
0,  when  shall  Englishmen 
With  such  acts  fill  a  pen, 
Or  England  breed  again 

Such  a  King  Harry  ?  120 

Michael  Drayton. 


THE   ROSE   OF   ENGLAND  5S 


THE  EOSE  OF  ENQLAND. 
(1480) 

Throughout  a  garden  green  and  gay, 

A  seemly  sight  it  was  to  see 
How  flowers  did  flourish  fresh  and  gay, 

And  birds  do  sing  melodiously. 

In  the  midst  of  a  garden  there  sprang  a  tree, 
Which  tree  was  of  a  mickle  price, 

And  thereupon  sprang  the  rose  so  red, 
The  goodliest  that  ever  sprang  on  rise. 

This  rose  was  fair,  fresh  to  behold. 
Springing  with  many  a  royal  lance; 

A  crowned  king,  with  a  crown  of  gold. 
Over  England,  Ireland,  and  of  France. 

Then  came  in  a  beast  men  call  a  boar,. 

And  he  rooted  this  garden  up  and  down; 
By  the  seed  of  the  rose  he  set  no  store. 

But  afterwards  it  wore  the  crown. 

He  took  the  branches  of  this  rose  away, 
And  all  in  sunder  did  them  tear. 

And  he  buried  them  under  a  clod  of  clay. 
Swore  they  should  never  bloom  nor  bear. 

Then  came  in  an  eagle  gleaming  gay, 
Of  all  fair  birds  well  worth  the  best; 

He  took  the  branch  of  the  rose  away, 
And  bore  it  to  Latham  to  his  nest. 


54  BALLADS    AND   POEMS 

Bat  now  is  this  rose  out  of  England  exiled, 

This  certain  truth  I  will  not  lain; 
But  if  it  please  you  to  sit  awhile, 

I'll  tell  you  how  the  rose  came  in  again. 

At  Milford  Haven  he  entered  in; 

To  claim  his  right  was  his  delight;  30 

He  brought  the  blue  boar  in  with  hira. 

To  encounter  with  the  boar  so  white. 

Then  a  messenger  the  rose  did  send 
To  the  eagle's  nest,  and  bid  him  hie: 

"To  my  father,  the  old  eagle,  I  do  me  commend. 
His  aid  and  help  I  crave  speedily." 

Says,  "I  desire  my  father  at  my  coining 

Of  men  and  money  at  my  need. 
And  also  my  mother  of  her  dear  blessing; 

The  better  then  I  hope  to  speed."  40 

And  when  the  messenger  came  before  th'  old  eagle, 
He  kneeled  him  down  upon  his  knee, 

Saith,  "Well  greeteth  you  my  lord  the  rose, 
He  hath  sent  you  greetings  here  by  me. 

"  Safe  from  the  seas  Christ  hath  him  sent, 

Now  he  is  entered  England  within." 
"  Let  us  thank  God,"  the  old  eagle  did  say, 

"  He  shall  be  the  flower  of  all  his  kin. 

"  Wend  away,  messenger,  Avith  might  and  main ; 

It's  hard  to  know  who  a  man  may  trust;  50 

I  hope  the  rose  shall  flourish  again, 

And  have  all  things  at  his  own  lust." 


THE   ROSE   OF   ENGLAND  55 

Then  Sir  Rice  ap  Thomas  draws  Wales  with  him; 

A  worthy  sight  it  was  to  see, 
How  the  Welshmen  rose  wholly  with  him, 

And  shogged  them  to  Shrewsbury. 

At  that  time  was  baily  in  Shrewsbury 

One  Master  Mitton,  in  the  town; 
The  gates  were  strong,  he  made  them  fast, 

And  the  portcullis  he  let  down.  60 

And  through  a  garrett  of  the  walls, 

Over  Severn  these  words  said  he; 
"  At  these  gates  no  man  enter  shall ; " 

But  he  kept  him  out  a  night  and  a  day. 

These  words  Mitton  did  Earl  Richmond  tell 
(I  am  sure  the  chronicles  will  not  lie)  ; 

But  when  letters  came  from  Sir  William  Stanley, 
Then  the  gates  were  opened  presentlj^. 

Then  entered  this  town  the  noble  lord, 

The  Earl  Richmond,  the  rose  so  red ;  7° 

The  Earl  of  Oxford  with  a  sword 

Would  have  smit  off  the  baihff's  head. 

"But  hold  your  hand,"  says  Earl  Richmond, 
"  For  His  love  that  died  upon  a  tree ! 

For  if  we  begin  to  head  so  soon. 

In  England  we  shall  bear  no  degree.** 

"What  offence  have  I  made  thee,"  said  Earl  Richmond, 
"  That  thou  kept  me  out  of  my  town  ?  " 

"  I  know  no  king,"  said  Mitton  then, 

"But  Richard  now  that  wears  the  crown."  80 


56  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

"  Why,  what  wilt  thou  say,"  said  Earl  Richmond, 
"  When  I  have  put  King  Richard  down  ?  " 

"Why,  then  I'll  be  as  true  to  you,  my  lord, 
After  the  tinio  that  I  am  sworn." 

"Were  it  not  great  pity,"  said  Earl  Richmond,        ^ 
"That  such  a  man  as  this  should  die. 

Such  loyal  service  by  him  done?" 
(The  chronicles  of  this  will  not  lie.) 

"Thou  shalt  not  be  harmed  in  any  case" — 
He  pardoned  him  presently.  90 

They  stayed  not  past  a  night  and  a  day, 
But  towards  Newport  did  they  hie. 

But  at  Atherstone  these  lords  did  meet; 

A  worthy  sight  it  was  to  see 
How  Earl  Richmond  took  his  hat  in  his  hand, 

And    said,    "  Cheshire    and    Lancashire,    welcome 
to  mel" 

But  now  is  a  bird  of  the  eagle  taken; 

From  the  white  boar  he  cannot  flee ; 
Therefore  the  old  eagle  makes  great  moan, 

And  prays  to  God  most  certainly.  100 

"0  steadfast  God,  verament,"  he  did  say, 
"Three  Persons  in  one  God  in  Trinity, 

Save  my  son,  the  young  eagle,  this  day 
From  all  false  craft  and  treachery  1" 

Then  the  blue  boar  the  vanward  had; 

He  was  both  wary  and  wise  of  wit; 
The  right  hand  of  them  he  took, 

The  sun  and  wind  of  them  to  get. 


THE   ROSE   OF   ENGLAND 


57 


no 


Then  the  eagle  followed  fast  upon  his  prey, 

With  sore  dints  he  did  them  smite; 
The  talbot  he  bit  wondrous  sore, 

So  well  the  unicorn  did  him  quite. 

And  then  came  in  the  hart's  head; 

A  worthy  sight  it  was  to  see, 
The  jackets  that  were  of  white  and  red, 

How  they  laid  about  them  lustily. 

But  now  is  the  fierce  field  foughten  and  ended, 

And  the  white  boar  there  lieth  slain, 
And  the  young  eagle  is  preserved, 

And  come  to  his  nest  again.  120 

But  now  this  garden  flourishes  gay 
With  fragrant  flowers  comely  of  hue. 

And  gardeners  it  do  maintain; 

I  hope  they  will  prove  just  and  true. 

Our  king,  he  is  the  rose  so  red, 

That  now  does  flourish  fresh  and  gay; 

Confound  his  foes,  Lord,  we  beseech, 

And  love  his  grace  both  night  and  day! 

Traditional  Ballad. 


55  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

SIR  ANDREW  BARTON. 
(1511) 

As  it  befell  in  midsummer-time, 

When  birds  sing  sweetly  on  every  tree, 

Our  noble  king,  King  Henry  the  Eighth, 
Over  the  river  of  Thames  passed  he. 

He  was  no  sooner  over  the  river, 

Down  in  a  forest  to  take  the  air, 
But  eighty  merchants  of  London  city 

Came  kneeling  before  King  Henry  there. 

"0  ye  are  welcome,  rich  merchants, 

Good  sailors,  welcome  unto  me  ! "  lo 

They  swore  by  the  rood  they  were  sailors  good, 

But  rich  merchants  they  could  not  be. 

"To  France  nor  Flanders  dare  we  not  pass. 
Nor  Bourdeaux  voyage  we  dare  not  fare. 

And  all  for  a  false  robber  that  lies  on  the  seas. 
And  robs  us  of  our  merchants-ware." 

King  Henry  was  stout,  and  he  turned  him  about. 
And  swore  by  the  Lord  that  was  mickle  of  might ; 

"  I  thought  he  had  not  been  in  the  world  throughout 
That  durst  have  wrought  England  such  unright."    20 

But  ever  they  sighed,  and  said,  alas ! 

Unto  King  Henry  this  answer  again ; 
"  He  is  a  proud  Scot  that  will  rob  us  all 

If  we  were  twenty  ships  and  he  but  ono." 


SIR   ANDREW   BARTON  59 

The  king  looked  over  lais  left  shoulder, 
Amongst  his  lords  and  barons  so  free; 

"  Have  I  never  a  lord  in  all  my  realm 
Will  fetch  yond  traitor  unto  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that   dare  I ! "  said  my  lord  Charles  Howard, 
Near  to  the  king  whereas  he  did  stand;  30 

"If  that  your  Grace  will  give  me  leave, 
MyseK  will  be  the  only  man." 

"Thou  shalt  have  six  hundred  men,"  saith  our  king, 
"And  choose  them  out  of  my  realm  so  free, 

Besides  mariners  and  boys. 

To  guide  the  great  ship  on  the  sea." 

"  I'll  go  speak  with  Sir  Andrew,"  says  Charles,  my 
lord  Howard, 

"  Upon  the  sea,  if  he  be  there ; 
I  will  bring  him  and  his  ship  to  shore. 

Or  before  my  prince  I  will  never  come  near."      40 

The  first  of  all  my  lord  did  call, 

A  noble  gunner  he  was  one ; 
This  man  was  three  score  years  and  ten, 

And  Peter  Simon  was  his  name. 

"  Peter,"  says  he,  "  I  must  sail  to  the  sea, 
To  seek  out  an  enemy ;   God  be  my  speed ! 

Before  all  others  I  have  chosen  thee; 

Of  a  hundred  gunners  thou'st  be  my  head." 

"  My  lord,"  says  he,  "  if  you  have  chosen  me 

Of  a  hundred  gunners  to  be  the  head,  50 

Hang  me  at  your  mainmast  tree 

If  I  miss  my  mark  past  three  pence  bread." 


60  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

The  next  of  all  my  lord  he  did  call, 

A  noble  bowman  he  was  one; 
In  Yorkshire  was  this  gentleman  born, 

And  William  Horsley  was  his  name. 

"Horsley,"  says  he,  "I  must  sail  to  the  sea, 
To  seek  out  an  enemy ;   God  be  my  speed  I 

Before  all  others  I  nave  chosen  thee; 

Of  a  hundred  bowmen  thou'st  be  my  head."         60 

"My  lord,"  says  he,  "if  you  have  chosen  me 
Of  a  hundred  bowmen  to  be  the  head, 

Hang  me  at  your  mainmast  tree 

If  I  miss  my  mark  past  twelve  pence  bread." 

With  pikes,  and  guns,  and  bowmen  bold, 
This  noble  Howard  is  gone  to  the  sea 

On  the  day  before  midsummer-even, 
And  out  at  Thames'  mouth  sailed  they. 

They  had  not  sailed  days  three 

Upon  their  journey  they  took  in  hand,  70 

But  there  they  met  with  a  noble  ship, 

And  stoutly  made  it  both  stay  and  stand. 

"Thou   must   tell   me    thy   name,"   says  Charles,   my 
lord  Howard, 

"Or  who  thou  art,  or  from  whence  thou  came, 
Yea,  and  where  thy  dwelling  is. 

To  whom  and  where  thy  ship  does  belong.'' 

"  My  name,"  says  he,  "  is  Henry  Hunt, 
With  a  pure  heart  and  a  penitent  mind; 

I  and  my  ship  they  do  belong 

Unto  the  New-castle  that  stands  upon  Tyne."      80 


SIR   ANDREW   BARTON  61 

"Now  thou  must  tell  me,  Harry  Hunt, 
As  thou  hast  sailed  by  day  and  by  night, 

Hast  thou  not  heard  of  a  stout  robber  ? 
Men  call  him  Sir  Andrew  Barton,  knight." 

But  ever  he  sighed,  and  said,  "  Alas ! 

Full  well,  my  lord,  I  know  that  wight; 
He  robbed  me  of  my  merchants-ware. 

And  I  was  his  prisoner  but  yesternight. 

"As  I  was  sailing  upon  the  sea, 

And  Bourdeaux  voyage  as  I  did  fare,  90 

He  clasped  me  to  his  arch-board. 

And  robbed  me  of  all  my  merchants-ware. 

"And  I  am  a  man  both  poor  and  bare. 
And  every  man  will  have  his  own  of  me, 

And  I  am  bound  towards  London  to  fare, 
To  complain  to  my  prince  Henry." 

"That  shall  not  need,"  says  my  lord  Howard; 

"If  thou  canst  let  me  this  robber  see. 
For  every  penny  he  hath  taken  thee  fro, 

Thou  shalt  be  rewarded  a  shilling,"  quoth  he.     100 

"Now  God  forfend,"  says  Henry  Hunt, 
"  My  lord,  you  should  work  so  far  amiss : 

God  keep  you  out  of  that  traitor's  hands  ! 
For  you  not  full  little  what  a  man  he  is. 

"  He  is  brass  within,  and  steel  without. 

And  beams  he  bears  in  his  top-castle  strong; 

His  sliip  hath  ordnance  clean  round  about; 
Besides,  my  lord,  he  is  very  well  manned. 


G2  BALLADS   AND    POEMS 

"He  hath  a  pinnace  is  dearly  dight, 

Saint  Andrew's  cross,  that  is  his  guide;  no 

His  pinnace  bears  nine  score  men  and  more, 

Besides  fifteen  cannons  on  every  side. 

"If  you  were  twenty  sliips,  and  he  but  one, 

Either  in  arch-boaxd  or  in  hall, 
He  would  overcome  you  every  one. 

And  if  his  beams  they  do  down  fall." 

"This  is  cold  comfort,"  says  my  lord  Howard, 
"To  welcome  a  stranger  thus  to  the  sea; 

I'll  bring  him  and  his  ship  to  shore, 

Or  else  into  Scotland  he  shall  carry  me."  120 

"  Then  you  must  get  a  noble  gunner,  my  lord. 

That  can  set  well  with  liis  eye, 
And  sink  his  pinnace  into  the  sea, 

And  soon  then  overcome  will  he  be. 

"  And  when  that  you  have  done  this. 
If  you  chance  Sir  Andrew  for  to  board, 

Let  no  man  to  his  top-castle  go; 

And  I  will  give  you  a  glass,  my  lord, 

"And  then  you  need  to  fear  no  Scot, 

Whether  you  sail  by  day  or  by  night;  130 

And  tomorrow,  by  seven  of  the  clock. 

You  shall  meet  with  Sir  Andrew  Barton,  knight. 

"  I  was  his  prisoner  but  yesternight. 

And  he  hath  taken  me  sworn,"  quoth  he; 

"  1  trust  my  Lord  God  will  me  forgive 
And  if  that  oath  then  broken  be. 


SIR   ANDREW   BARTON  63 

"You  must  lend  me  six  pieces,  my  lord,"  quotli  lie, 

"  Into  my  sliip,  to  sail  the  sea. 
And  tomorrow,  by  nine  of  tlie  clock. 

Your  Honour  again  tlien  will  I  see."  140 


And  the  hatch-board  where  Sir  Andrew  lay 

Is  hatched  with  gold  dearly  dight. 
"Now  by  my  faith,"  says  Charles,  my  lord  Howard, 

"Then  yonder  Scot  is  a  worthy  wight  1 

"  Take  in  your  ancients  and  your  standards, 

Yea,  that  no  man  shall  them  see, 
And  put  me  forth  a  white  willow  wand, 

As  merchants  use  to  sail  the  sea." 

But  they  stirred  neither  top  nor  mast, 

But  Sir  Andrew  they  passed  by.  150 

"  What  English  are  yonder,"  said  Sir  Andrew, 

"  That  can  so  little  courtesy  ? 

"I  have  been  admiral  over  the  sea 

More  than  these  years  three ; 
There  is  never  an  English  dog,  nor  Portingale, 

Can  pass  this  way  without  leave  of  me. 

"But  now  yonder  pedlers  they  are  past, 

Which  is  no  little  grief  to  me ; 
Fetch  them  back,"  says  Sir  AndreAv  Barton, 

"They  shall  all  hang  at  my  mainmast  tree."       160 

With  that  the  pinnace  it  shot  off, 

That  my  lord  Howard  might  it  well  ken; 

It  struck  down  my  lord's  foremast, 

And  killed  fourteen  of  my  lord  liis  men. 


64i  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

"Come  hither,  Simon,"  says  my  lord  Howard, 
"Look  that  thy  words  be  true  thou  saidj 

I'll  hang  thee  at  my  mainmast  tree 

If  thou  miss  thy  mark  past  twelve  pence  bread." 

Simon  was  old,  but  his  heart  it  was  bold; 

He  took  down  a  piece,  and  laid  it  full  low;        170 
He  put  in  chain  yards  nine, 

Besides  other  great  shot  less  and  moe. 

With  that  he  let  his  gunshot  go ; 

So  well  he  settled  it  Avith  his  eye. 
The  first  sight  that  Sir  Andrew  saw. 

He  saw  his  pinnace  sunk  in  the  sea. 

When  he  saw  his  pinnace  sunk, 

Lord!  in  his  heart  he  was  not  well. 
"  Cut  my  ropes,  it  is  time  to  be  gone ; 

I'll  go  fetch  yond  pedlers  back  myself ! "  180 

When  my  lord  Howard  saw  Sir  Andrew  loose, 

Lord !  in  his  heart  that  he  was  fain. 
"  Strike  on  your  drums,  spread  out  your  ancients ; 

Sound  out  your  trumpets,  sound  out  amain!" 

"  Fight  on,  my  men,"  says  Sir  Andrew  Barton, 
"Weet,  howsoever  this  gear  will  sway, 

It  is  my  lord  Admiral  of  England 
Is  come  to  seek  me  on  the  sea." 

Simon  had  a  son ;   with  shot  of  a  gun, 

Well  Sir  Andrew  might  it  ken,  190 

He  shot  it  at  a  privy  place, 

And  killed  sixty  more  of  Sir  Andrew's  men. 


SIR    ANDREW    BARTON  66 

Harry  Hunt  came  in  at  the  other  side, 

And  at  Sir  Andrew  he  shot  then; 
He  drove  down  his  foremast  tree, 

And  killed  eighty  more  of  Sir  Andrew's  men. 

"I  have  done  a  good  turn,"  says  Harry  Hunt, 
"  Sir  Andrew  is  not  our  king's  friend ; 

He  hoped  to  have  undone  me  yesternight. 

But  I  hope  I  have  quit  him  well  in  the  end."    200 

"  Ever  alas !  "  said  Sir  Andrew  Barton, 

"  What  shoald  a  man  either  think  or  say  ? 

Yonder  false  thief  is  my  strongest  enemy, 
Who  was  my  prisoner  but  yesterday. 

"  Come  hither  to  me,  thou  Grordon  good, 

And  be  thou  ready  at  my  call. 
And  I  will  give  thee  three  hundred  pound, 

If  thou  wilt  let  my  beams  down  fall." 

With  that  he  swarved  the  mainmast  tree, 

So  did  he  it  with  might  and  main;  210 

Horsley,  with  a  bearing  arrow, 

Strake  the  Gordon  through  the  brain. 

And  he  fell  into  the  hatches  again, 

And  sore  of  this  wound  that  he  did  bleed; 

Then  word  went  through  Sir  Andrew's  men 
That  the  Gordon  he  was  dead. 

"Come  hither  to  me,  James  Hamilton, 

Thou  art  my  sister's  son,  I  have  no  moro; 

I  will  give  thee  six  hundred  pound 

If  thou  will  let  my  beams  down  fall."  220 


66  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

With  that  he  swarved  the  mainmast  tree, 

So  did  he  it  with  might  and  main; 
Horsley,  with  another  broad  arrow, 

Strake  the  yeoman  through  the  brain. 

That  he  fell  down  to  the  hatches  again ; 

Sore  of  his  wound  that  he  did  bleed. 
Covetousness  gets  no  gain, 

It  is  very  true  as  the  Welshman  said. 

But  when  he  saw  his  sister's  son  slain, 

Lord!   in  his  heart  he  was  not  well.  230 

"Go  fetch  me  down  my  armour  of  proof, 

For  I  will  to  the  top-castle  myself. 

"Go  fetch  me  down  my  armour  of  proof, 

For  it  is  gilded  with  gold  so  clear; 
God  be  with  my  brother,  John  of  Barton ! 

Amongst  the  Portingales  he  did  it  wear." 

But  when  he  had  his  armour  of  proof, 

And  on  his  body  he  had  it  on. 
Every  man  that  looked  at  him 

Said,  gun  nor  arrow  he  need  fear  none.  240 

"  Come  hither,  Horsley,"  says  my  lord  Howard, 
"And  look  your  shaft  that  it  go  right; 

Shoot  a  good  shoot  in  the  time  of  need. 
And  for  thy  shooting  thou'st  be  made  a  knight." 

"I'll  do  my  best,"  says  Horsley  then, 

"  Your  honour  shall  see  before  I  go ; 
If  I  should  be  hanged  at  your  mainmast, 

I  have  in  my  ship  but  arrows  two." 


SIR  ANDREW   BARTON  67 

But  at  Sir  Andrew  lie  sliot  then; 

He  made  sure  to  hit  his  mark ;  250 

Under  the  spole  of  his  right  arm 

He  smote  Sir  Andrew  quite  through  the  heart. 

Yet  from  the  tree  he  would  not  start, 

But  he  dinged  to  it  with  might  and  main; 

Under  the  collar  then  of  his  jack 

He  strake  Sir  Andrew  through  the  brain. 

"Fight  on,  my  men,"  says  Sir  Andrew  Barton, 

"  I  am  hurt,  but  I  am  not  slain ; 
I'll  lay  me  down  and  bleed  awhile, 

And  then  I'll  rise  and  fight  again.  260 

"Fight  on,  my  men,"  says  Sir  Andrew  Barton, 
"These  English  dogs  they  bite  so  low; 

Fight  on  for  Scotland  and  Saint  Andrew 
Till  you  hear  my  whistle  blow  1 " 

But  when  they  could  not  hear  his  whistle  blow, 

Says  Harry  Hunt,  "I'll  lay  my  head 
You  may  board  yonder  noble  ship,  my  lord. 

For  I  know  Sir  Andrew  he  is  dead." 

With  that  they  boarded  this  noble  ship, 

So  did  they  it  with  might  and  main;  270 

They  found  eighteen  score  Scots  alive, 
Besides  the  rest  were  maimed  and  slain. 

My  Lord  Howard  took  a  sword  in  his  hand, 

And  smote  off  Sir  Andrew's  head ; 
The  Scots  stood  by  did  weep  and  mourn. 

But  never  a  word  durst  speak  or  say. 

5—3 


68  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

He  caused  his  body  to  be  taken  down, 
And  over  the  hatch-board  cast  into  the  sea, 

And  about  his  middle  three  hundred  crowns: 

"Wheresoever  thou  lands,  it  will  bury  thee."      280 

With  his  head  they  sailed  into  England  again, 
With  right  good  will  and  force  and  main. 

And  the  day  before  New  Year's  Even 
Into  Thames'  mouth  they  came  again. 

My  Lord  Howard  wrote  to  King  Henry's  grace. 
With  all  the  news  he  could  him  bring : 

"  Such  a  New  Year's  gift  I  have  brought  your  Grace 
As  never  did  subject  to  any  king. 

"For  merchandise  and  manhood, 

The  like  is  not  to  be  found ;  290 

The  sight  of  these  would  do  you  good. 

For  you  have  not  the  hke  in  your  English  ground." 

But  when  he  heard  tell  that  they  were  come, 
Full  royally  he  welcomed  them  home; 

Sir  Andrew's  ship  was  the  King's  New  Year's  gift ; 
A  braver  ship  you  never  saw  none. 

Now  hath  our  King  Sir  Andrew's  ship, 
Beset  with  pearls  and  precious  stones; 

Now  hath  England  two  ships  of  war — 

Two  ships  of  war,  before  but  one.  300 

""Wlio  holp  to  this?"  says  King  Henry, 
"  That  I  may  reward  him  for  his  pain.'' 

"  Harry  Hunt,  and  Peter  Simon, 
William  Horsley,  and  i  the  same.'' 


SIR   ANDREW   BARTON  69 

"Harry  Hunt  shall  have  his  whistle  and  chain, 
And  all  his  jewels,  whatsoever  they  be. 

And  other  rich  gifts  that  I  will  not  name, 
For  his  good  service  he  hath  done  me. 

"Horsley,  right  thou'st  be  a  knight, 

Lands  and  livings  thou  shalt  have  store ;  310 

Howard  shall  be  Earl  of  Nottingham, 

And  so  was  never  Howard  before. 

"  Now,  Peter  Simon,  thou  art  old ; 

I  will  maintain  thee  and  thy  son ; 
Thou  shalt  have  five  hundred  pound  all  in  gold 

For  the  good  service  that  thou  hast  done." 

Then  King  Henry  shifted  his  room; 

In  came  the  Queen  and  ladies  bright; 
Other  errands  they  had  none 

But  to  see  Sir  Andrew  Barton,  knight.  320 

But  when  they  see  his  deadly  face, 

His  eyes  were  hollow  in  his  head; 
"  I  would  give  a  hundred  pound,"  says  King  Henry, 

"  The  man  were  alive  as  he  is  dead ! 

"Yet  for  the  manful  part  that  he  hath  played. 

Both  here  and  beyond  the  sea, 
His  men  shall  have  half  a  crown  a  day 

To  bring  them  to  my  brother,  King  Jamie." 

Traditional  Ballad. 


70  BAI.LADS   AND   POEMS 

FLODDEN  FIELD. 
(1513) 

King  Jamie  hath  made  a  vow, 

Keep  it  well  if  he  may! 
That  he  Avill  be  at  lovely  London 

Upon  Saint  James  his  day. 

"Upon  Saint  James  his  day  at  noon, 

At  fair  London  Avill  I  be, 
And  all  the  lords  in  merry  Scotland, 

They  shall  dine  there  with  me." 

Then  bespake  good  Queen  Margaret, 

The  tears  fell  from  her  eye : 
"Leave  off  these  wars,  most  noble  King, 

Keep  your  fidelity. 

"The  water  runs  swift  and  wondrous  deep. 

From  bottom  unto  the  brim; 
My  brother  Henry  hath  men  good  enough; 

England  is  hard  to  win." 

"Away,"  quoth  he,  "with  this  silly  fool! 

In  prison  fast  let  her  lie: 
For  she  is  come  of  the  English  blood. 

And  for  those  words  she  shall  die," 

With  that  bespake  Lord  Thomas  Howard, 
The  queen's  chamberlain  that  day: 

"If  that  you  put  Queen  Margaret  to  death, 
Scotland  shall  rue  it  alway." 


FLODDEN    FIELD  71 

Then  in  a  rage  King  James  did  say, 

"  Away  with  this  foolish  mome ! 
He  shall  be  hanged,  and  the  other  be  burned, 

So  soon  as  I  come  home." 

At  Flodden  Field  the  Scots  came  in, 

Which  made  our  English  men  fain;  30 

At  Bramstone  Green  this  battle  was  seen, 
There  was  King  Jamie  slain. 

Then  presently  the  Scots  did  fly, 

Their  cannons  they  left  behind; 
Their  ensigns  gay  were  won  all  away, 

Our  soldiers  did  beat  them  blind. 

To  tell  you  plain,  twelve  thousand  were  slain 

That  to  the  fight  did  stand. 
And  many  prisoners  took  that  day, 

The  best  in  all  Scotland.  40 

That  day  made  many  a  fatherless  child, 

And  many  a  widow  poor. 
And  many  a  Scottish  gay  lady 

Sat  weeping  in  her  bower. 

Jack  with  a  feather  was  lapt  all  in  leather, 

His  boastings  were  all  in  vain; 
He  had  such  a  chance,  with  a  new  morrice  dance, 

He  never  went  home  again. 

Traditional  Ballad. 


72  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

EDINBURGH  AFTER  FLODDEN. 
(1513) 


News  of  battle! — news  of  battle! 

Hark!   'tis  ringing  down  tbe  street: 
And  the  arcbways  and  the  pavement 

Bear  the  clang  of  hurrying  feet. 
News  of  battle !   who  batli  brought  it  ? 

News  of  triumph?     Wlio  should  bring 
Tidings  from  our  noble  army, 

Greetings  from  our  gallant  King? 
All  last  night  we  watched  the  beacons 

Blazing  on  the  hills  afar, 
Each  one  bearing,  as  it  kindled, 

Message  of  the  opened  war. 
All  night  long  the  northern  streamers 

Shot  across  the  trembling  sky: 
Fearful  lights  that  never  beacon 

Save  when  kings  or  heroes  die. 

II. 

News  of  battle!     Who  hath  brought  it? 

All  are  thronging  to  the  gatej 
"Warder — warder!   open  quickly! 

Man — is  this  a  time  to  wait  ?  " 
And  the  heavy  gates  are  opened: 

Then  a  murmur  long  and  loud, 
And  a  cry  of  fear  and  wonder 

Bursts  from  out  the  bending  crowd. 


EDINBURGH   AFTER   FLODDEN  73 

For  they  see  in  battered  harness 

Only  one  hard-stricken  man; 
And  his  weary  steed  is  wounded, 

And  his  cheek  is  pale  and  wan: 
Spearless  hangs  a  bloody  banner 

In  his  weak  and  drooping  hand —  30 

God!   can  that  be  Randolph  Mui-ray, 

Captain  of  the  city  band? 


in. 

Round  him  crush  the  people,  crying, 

"Tell  us  all— oh,  tell  us  true! 
Where  are  they  who  went  to  battle, 

Randolph  Murray,  sworn  to  you? 
Wliere  are  they,  our  brothers — children? 

Have  they  met  the  English  foe? 
Why  art  thou  alone,  unfollowed? 

Is  it  weal  or  is  it  woe?"  4^ 

Like  a  corpse  the  grisly  warrior 

Looks  from  out  his  helm  of  steel; 
But  no  word  he  speaks  in  answer — 

Only  with  his  armed  heel 
Chides  his  weary  steed,  and  onward 

Up  the  city  streets  they  ride; 
Fathers,  sisters,  mothers,  children, 

Shrieking,  praying  by  his  side. 
"By  the  God  that  made  thee,  Randolph! 

Tell  us  what  mischance  hath  come."  5° 

Then  he  lifts  his  riven  banner. 

And  the  asker's  voice  is  dumb. 


74  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 


IV. 


The  elders  of  the  city 

Have  met  within  their  hall— 
The  men  whom  good  King  James  had  charged 

To  watch  the  tower  and  wall. 
"Your  hands  are  weak  with  age,"  he  said, 

"Your  hearts  are  stout  and  true; 
So  bide  ye  in  the  Maiden  Town, 

While  others  fight  for  you.  60 

My  trumpet  from  the  Border-side 

Shall  send  a  blast  so  clear, 
That  all  who  wait  within  the  gate 

That  stirring  sound  may  hear. 
Or,  if  it  be  the  will  of  Heaven 

That  back  I  never  come. 
And  if,  instead  of  Scottish  shouts, 

Ye  hear  the  English  drum,— 
Then  let  the  warning  bells  ring  out, 

Then  gird  you  to  the  fray,  70 

Then  man  the  walls  like  burghers  stout, 

And  fight  while  fight  you  may. 
'Twere  better  that  in  fiery  flame 

The  roofs  should  thunder  down. 
Than  that  the  foot  of  foreign  foe 
Should  trample  in  the  town  I" 

Then  in  came  Randolph  Murray, — 

His  step  was  slow  and  weak. 
And,  as  he  doffed  his  dinted  helm. 

The  tears  ran  down  his  cheek;  80 


EDINBURGH   AFTER   FLODDEN  75 

They  fell  upon  his  corslet 

And  on  his  mailed  hand, 
As  he  gazed  around  him  wistfully, 

Leaning  sorely  on  his  brand. 
And  none  who  then  beheld  liim 

But  straight  were  smote  with  fear, 
For  a  bolder  and  a  sterner  man 

Had  never  couched  a  spear. 
They  knew  so  sad  a  messenger 

Some  ghastly  news  must  bring;  90 

And  all  of  them  were  fathers, 

And  their  sons  were  with  the  King. 


VI. 

And  up  then  rose  the  Provost — 

A  brave  old  man  was  he, 
Of  ancient  name,  and  knightly  fame, 

And  chivalrous  degree. 
He  ruled  our  city  like  a  Lord 

Wlio  brooked  no  equal  here, 
And  ever  for  the  townsman's  rights 

Stood  up  'gainst  prince  and  peer. 
And  he  had  seen  the  Scottish  host 

March  from  the  Borough-muir, 
With  music-storm  and  clamorous  shout, 
And  all  the  din  that  thunders  out 

When  youth  's  of  victory  sure. 
But  yet  a  dearer  thought  had  he, — 

For,  with  a  father's  pride, 
He  saw  his  last  remaining  son 

Go  forth  by  Randolph's  side, 


76  BALLADS   AND    POEMS 

With  casque  on  head  and  spur  on  heel, 

All  keen  to  do  and  dare; 
And  proudly  did  that  gallant  boy 

Dunedin's  banner  bear. 
Oh!  woeful  now  was  the  old  man's  look, 

And  he  spake  right  heavily — 
"Now,  Randolph,  tell  thy  tidings, 

However  sharp  they  be ! 
Woe  is  written  on  thy  visage, 

Death  is  looking  from  thy  face: 
Speak !   though  it  be  of  overthrow — 

It  cannot  be  disgrace  I" 


vn. 

Right  bitter  was  the  agony 

That  wrung  that  soldier  proud: 
Thrice  did  he  strive  to  answer. 

And  thrice  he  groaned  aloud. 
Then  he  gave  the  riven  banner 

To  the  old  man's  shaking  hand, 
Saying— "That  is  all  I  bring  ye 

From  the  bravest  of  the  land  I 
Ay!   ye  may  look  upon  it —  130 

It  was  guarded  well  and  long, 
By  your  brothers  and  your  children, 

By  the  valiant  and  the  strong. 
One  by  one  they  fell  around  it, 

As  the  archers  laid  them  low, 
Grimly  dying,  still  unconquered, 

With  their  faces  to  the  foe. 


EDINBURGH   AFTER   FLODDEN  77 

Ay !   ye  may  well  look  upon  it — 

There  is  more  than  honour  there, 
Else,  be  sure,  I  had  not  brought  it  140 

From  the  field  of  dark  despair. 
Nevor  yet  was  royal  banner 

Steeped  in  such  a  costly  dye; 
It  hath  lain  upon  a  bosom 

Where  no  other  shroud  shall  lie. 
Sirs !   I  charge  you,  keep  it  holy ; 

Keep  it  as  a  sacred  thing. 
For  the  stain  ye  see  upon  it 

Was  the  Kfe-blood  of  your  Eong!" 


YIII. 

Woe,  and  woe,  and  lamentation!  15° 

Wliat  a  piteous  cry  was  there ! 
Widows,  maidens,  mothers,  children, 

Shrieking,  sobbing  in  despair! 
Through  the  streets  the  death-word  rushes. 

Spreading  terror,  sweeping  on — 
"Jesu  Christ!   our  King  has  fallen — 

0  Great  God,  King  James  is  gone ! 
Holy  Mother  Mary,  shield  us. 

Thou  who  erst  didst  lose  thy  Son! 
0  the  blackest  day  for  Scotland  160 

That  she  ever  knew  before ! 
0  our  King — the  good,  the  noble, 

Shall  we  see  him  never  more  ? 
Woe  to  us,  and  woe  to  Scotland ! 

0  our  sons,  our  sons  and  men! 
Surely  some  have  'scaped  the  Southron, 

Surely  some  will  come  again!" 


78  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

Till  tlio  oak  that  fell  last  winter 
Shall  uprear  its  shattered  stem — 

Wives  and  mothers  of  Dunedin —  170 

Ye  may  look  in  vain  for  them! 

IX. 

But  within  the  Council  Chamber 

All  was  silent  as  the  grave, 
Whilst  the  tempest  of  their  sorrow- 
Shook  the  bosoms  of  the  brave. 
Well  indeed  might  they  be  shaken 

With  the  weight  of  such  a  blow: 
He  was  gone — their  prince,  their  idol, 

Whom  they  loved  and  worshipped  so ! 
Like  a  knell  of  death  and  judgement  iSo 

Rung  from  heaven  by  angel  hand, 
Fell  the  words  of  desolation 

On  the  elders  of  the  land. 
Hoary  heads  were  bowed  and  trembling, 

Withered  hands  were  clasped  and  wrung; 
God  had  left  the  old  and  feeble, 

He  had  ta'en  away  the  young. 


Then  the  Provost  he  uprose. 

And  his  lip  was  ashen  white; 
But  a  flush  was  on  his  brow,  190 

And  his  eye  was  full  of  light. 
"Thou  hast  spoken,  Randolph  Murray, 

Like  a  soldier  stout  and  true; 
Thou  hast  done  a  deed  of  daring 

Had  been  perilled  but  by  few. 


EDINBURGH   AFTER    FLODDEN  79 

For  thou  hast  not  shamed  to  face  us, 

Nor  to  speak  thy  ghastly  tale, 
Standing — thou  a  knight  and  captain — 

Here,  alive  within  thy  mail ! 
Now,  as  my  God  shall  judge  me,  200 

I  hold  it  braver  done, 
Than  hadst  thou  tarried  in  thy  place. 

And  died  above  my  son! 
Thou  needst  not  tell  it:   he  is  dead. 

God  help  us  all  this  day! 
But  speak — how  fought  the  citizens 

Within  the  furious  fray  ? 
For  by  the  might  of  Mary, 

'Twere  something  still  to  tell 
That  no  Scottish  foot  went  backward  210 

When  the  Eoyal  Lion  fell!" 


XI. 

"No  one  failed  him.    He  is  keeping 

Royal  state  and  semblance  still; 
Knight  and  noble  lie  around  him, 

Cold  on  Flodden's  fatal  hill. 
Of  the  brave  and  gallant-hearted, 

Whom  you  sent  with  prayers  away, 
Not  a  single  man  departed 

From  his  Monarch  yesterday. 
Had  you  seen  them,  0  my  masters ! 

When  the  night  began  to  fall, 
And  the  English  spearmen  gathered 

Round  a  grim  and  ghastly  wall! 


80  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

As  the  wolves  in  winter  circle 

Round  the  leaguer  on  the  heath, 
So  the  greedy  foe  glared  upward, 

Panting  still  for  blood  and  death. 
But  a  rampart  rose  before  them, 

Which  the  boldest  dared  not  scale; 
Every  stone  a  Scottish  body,  230 

Every  step  a  corpse  in  mail ! 
And  behind  it  lay  our  Monarch, 

Clenching  still  his  shivered  sword; 
By  his  side  Montrose  and  Athole, 

At  his  feet  a  Southron  lord. 
All  so  thick  they  lay  together, 

When  the  stars  lit  up  the  sky. 
That  I  knew  not  who  were  stricken, 

Or  who  yet  remained  to  die. 
Few  there  were  when  Surrey  halted,  240 

And  his  wearied  host  withdrew; 
None  but  dying  men  around  me, 

When  the  English  trumpet  blew. 
Then  I  stooped,  and  took  the  banner, 

As  you  see  it,,  from  his  breast. 
And  I  closed  our  hero's  eyelids. 

And  I  left  him  to  liis  rest. 
In  the  mountains  growled  the  thunder, 

As  I  leaped  the  woeful  wall, 
And  the  heavy  clouds  were  settling  250 

Over  Flodden,  like  a  pall." 


EDINBURGH   AFTER   FLODDEN  81 


XII. 

So  he  ended.     And  tlie  others 

Cared  not  any  answer  then; 
Sitting  silent,  dumb  with  sorrow, 

Sitting  anguish-struck,  like  men 
Who  have  seen  the  roaring  torrent 

Sweep  their  happy  homes  away, 
And  yet  linger  by  the  margin, 

Staring  wildly  on  the  spray. 
But,  without,  the  maddening  tumult  260 

Waxes  ever  more  and  more, 
And  the  crowd  of  wailing  women 

Gather  round  the  Council  door. 
Every  dusky  spire  is  ringing 

With  a  dull  and  hollow  knell. 
And  the  Miserere's  singing 

To  the  tolling  of  the  bell. 
Through  the  streets  the  burghers  hurry. 

Spreading  terror  as  they  go; 
And  the  rampart's  thronged  with  watchers      270 

For  the  coming  of  the  foe. 
From  each  mountain-top  a  pillar 

Streams  into  the  torpid  air, 
Bearing  token  from  the  Border 

That  the  English  host  is  there. 
All  without  is  flight  and  terror, 

All  within  is  woe  and  fear — 
God  protect  thee,  Maiden  City, 

For  thy  latest  hour  is  near! 


82  BALLADS   AND    POEMS 


XIII. 


No !  not  yet,  thou  high  Dunedhi !  2S0 

Shalt  thou  totter  to  thy  fall; 
Though  thy  bravest  and  thy  strongest 

Are  not  there  to  man  the  wall. 
No,  not  yet!   the  ancient  spirit 

Of  our  fathers  hath  not  gone; 
Take  it  to  thee  as  a  buckler 

Better  far  than  steel  or  stone. 
Oh,  remember  those  who  perished 

For  thy  birthright  at  the  time 
When  to  be  a  Scot  was  treason,  290 

And  to  side  with  Wallace  crime ! 
Have  they  not  a  voice  among  us. 

Whilst  their  hallowed  dust  is  here  ? 
Hear  ye  not  a  summons  sounding 

From  each  buried  warrior's  bier? 
Up! — they  say — and  keep  the  freedom 

Which  we  won  you  long  ago: 
Up!  and  keep  our  graves  unsullied 

From  the  insults  of  the  foe  1 
Up !   and  if  ye  cannot  save  them,  300 

Come  to  us  in  blood  and  fire : 
Midst  the  crash  of  falling  turrets 

Let  the  last  of  Scots  expire  I 

*  XIV. 

Still  the  bells  are  tolling  fiercely. 

And  the  cry  comes  louder  in; 
Mothers  wailing  for  their  children, 

Sisters  for  their  slaughtered  kin. 


EDINBURGH    AFTER   FLODDEN  83 

All  is  terror  and  disorder; 

Till  the  Provost  rises  up, 
Calm,  as  though,  he  had  not  tasted  310 

Of  the  fell  and  bitter  cup. 
All  so  stately  from  his  sorrow, 

Rose  the  old  undaunted  chief, 
That  you  had  not  deemed,  to  see  him, 

His  was  more  than  common  grief. 
"  Rouse  ye.  Sirs ! "  he  said ;   "  we  may  not 

Longer  mourn  for  what  is  done; 
If  our  King  be  taken  from  us, 

We  are  left  to  guard  his  son. 
We  have  sworn  to  keep  the  city  320 

From  the  foe,  whate'er  they  be. 
And  the  oath  that  we  have  taken 

Never  shall  be  broke  by  me. 
Death  is  nearer  to  us,  brethren, 

Than  it  seemed  to  those  who  died. 
Fighting  yesterday  at  Flodden, 

By  their  lord  and  master's  side. 
Let  us  meet  it  then  in  patience. 

Not  in  terror  or  in  fear; 
Though  our  hearts  are  bleeding  yonder,        330 

Let  our  souls  be  steadfast  here. 
Up,  and  rouse  ye!     Time  is  fleeting. 

And  we  yet  have  much  to  do; 
Up !   and  haste  ye  through  the  city. 

Stir  the  burghers  stout  and  true ! 
Gather  all  our  scattered  people. 

Fling  the  banner  out  once  more, — 
Randolph  Murray!   do  thou  bear  it. 

As  it  erst  was  borne  before: 
Never  Scottish  heart  will  leave  it,  340 

Wlien  they  see  their  Monarch's  gore  I 

6—2 


84  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 


XV. 


"Let  thorn  cease  that  dismal  knelling! 

It  is  time  enough  to  ring, 
When  the  fortress-strength  of  Scotland 

Stoops  to  ruin  like  its  King. 
Let  the  bells  be  kept  for  warning, 

Not  for  terror  or  alarm; 
When  they  next  are  heard  to  thunder. 

Let  each  man  and  stripling  arm. 
Bid  the  women  leave  their  wailing —  350 

Do  they  think  that  woeful  strain, 
From  the  bloody  heaps  of  Flodden, 

Can  redeem  their  dearest  slain? 
Bid  them  cease, — or  rather  hasten 

To  the  churches  every  one; 
There  to  pray  to  Mary  Mother, 

And  to  her  anointed  Son, 
That  the  thunderbolt  above  us 

May  not  fall  in  ruin  yet; 
That  in  fire  and  blood  and  rapine  360 

Scotland's  glory  may  not  set. 
Let  them  pray, — for  never  women 

Stood  in  need  of  such  a  prayer! — 
England's  yeomen  shall  not  find  them 

Clinging  to  the  altars  there. 
No!  if  we  are  doomed  to  perish, 

Man  and  maiden,  let  us  fall, 
And  a  common  gulf  of  ruin 

Open  wide  to  wlielm  us  all! 
Never  shall  the  ruthless  spoiler  370 

Lay  his  hot  insulting  hand 
On  the  sisters  of  our  heroes. 

Whilst  we  bear  a  torch  or  brand! 


EDINBURGH   AFTER   FLODDEN  85 

Up!   and  rouse  ye,  then,  my  brotliers, — 

But  when  next  ye  hear  the  bell 
Sounding  forth  the  sullen  summons 

That  may  be  our  funeral  knell, 
Once  more  let  us  meet  together, 

Once  more  see  each  other's  face; 
Then,  like  men  that  need  not  tremble,  380 

Go  to  our  appointed  place. 
God,  our  Father,  will  not  fail  us, 

In  that  last  tremendous  hour, — 
If  all  other  bulwarks  crumble. 

He  will  be  our  strength  and  tower: 
Though  the  ramparts  rock  beneath  us. 

And  the  walls  go  crashing  down. 
Though  the  roar  of  conflagration 

Bellow  o'er  the  sinking  town; 
There  is  yet  one  place  of  shelter,  390 

Where  the  foemen  cannot  come, 
Where  the  summons  never  sounded 

Of  the  trumpet  or  the  drum. 
There  again  we'll  meet  our  children. 

Who,  on  Flodden's  trampled  sod, 
For  their  King  and  for  their  country 

Rendered  up  their  souls  to  God. 
There  shall  we  find  rest  and  refuge 

With  our  dear  departed  brave; 
And  the  ashes  of  the  city  400 

Be  our  universal  grave!" 

W.  E.  Aytoun. 


86  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

DICK  0'  THE  COW. 
(c.  1530) 

Now  Liddesdale  lias  long  lain  in, 

There  is  no  riding  there  at  a'; 
Their  horse  is  growing  so  lidder  and  fat 

That  are  lazy  in  the  sta'. 

Then  Johnnie  Armstrong  to  Willie  can  say, 

"Billie,  a  riding  then  will  we; 
England  and  us  has  been  long  at  a  feed; 

Perhaps  we  may  hit  of  some  bootie." 

Then  they're  corned  on  to  Hutton  Hall, 

They  rade  that  proper  place  about ;  lo 

But  the  laird  he  was  the  wiser  man, 
For  he  had  left  nae  gear  without. 

Then  he  had  left  nae  gear  to  steal, 

Except  six  sheep  upon  a  lea; 
Says  Johnnie,  "I'd  rather  in  England  die, 

Before  their  six  sheep  gaed  to  Liddesdale  with  me. 

"But  how  call'd  they  the  man  Ave  last  with  met, 

Billie,  as  we  came  over  the  know  ? '' 
"That  same  he  is  an  innocent  fool, 

And  some  men  calls  him  Dick  o'  the  Cow,"  20 

"That  fool  has  three  as  good  kine  of  his  own 
As  is  in  a'  Cumberland,  billie,"  quoth  he; 

"Betide  my  life,  betide  my  death, 

These  three  kiue  shall  go  to  Liddesdale  with  me." 


DICK   O'   THE   COW  87 

Then  they're  coined  on  to  the  poor  fool's  house, 
And  they  have  broken  his  walls  so  wide; 

They  have  loosed  out  Dick  o'  the  Cow's  kine  three, 
And  ta'en  three  co'erlets  off  his  wife's  bed. 

Then  on  the  morn,  when  the  day  grew  light, 

The  shouts  and  cries  rose  loud  and  high;  30 

"Hold  thy  tongue,  my  wife,"  he  says, 
"And  of  thy  crying  let  me  be. 

"Hold  thy  tongue,  my  wife,"  he  says, 

"And  of  thy  crying  let  me  be, 
And  ay  that  where  thou  wants  a  cow, 

Good  sooth  that  I  shall  bring  thee  three." 

Then  Dick's  corned  on  to  lord  and  master. 

And  I  wat  a  dreary  fool  was  he; 
"  Hold  thy  tongue,  my  fool,"  he  says, 

"For  I  may  not  stand  to  jest  with  thee."  40 

"  Shame  speed  a'  your  jesting,  my  lord,"  quo'  Dickie, 
"For  nae  such  jesting  Agrees  with  me; 

Liddesdale  has  been  in  my  house  this  last  night, 
And  they  have  ta'en  my  three  kine  from  me." 

"But  I  may  nae  langer  in  Cumberland  dwell, 

To  be  your  poor  fool  and  your  leal. 
Unless  ye  give  me  leave,  my  lord, 

To  go  to  Liddesdale  and  steal." 

"To  give  thee  leave,  my  fool,"  he  says, 

"Thou  speaks  against  mine  honour  and  me;         50 
Unless  thou  give  me  thy  troth  and  thy  right  hand, 

Thou'll  steal  frae  nane  but  them  that  sta'  from  thee." 


88  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

"There  is  my  troth  and  my  right  handj 

My  head  shall  hing  on  Hairibee, 
I'll  never  cross  Carlisle  sands  again, 

If  I  steal  frae  a  man  but  them  that  sta'  frae  me." 

Dickie  has  ta'en  leave  at  lord  and  master, 

And  I  wot  a  merry  fool  was  he; 
He  has  bought  a  bridle  and  a  pair  of  new  spurs, 

And  has  packed  them  up  in  his  breek-thigh.        60 

Then  Dickie's  come  on  for  Puddinburn, 

Even  as  fast  as  he  may  dree; 
Dickie  's  come  on  for  Puddinburn, 

Where  there  was  thirty  Armstrongs  and  three. 

"  What 's  this  corned  on  me ! "  quo'  Dickie, 

"  What  mickle  wae  's  this  happen'd  on  me,"  quo'  he, 

"Where  here  is  but  an  innocent  fool. 

And  there  is  thirty  Armstrongs  and  three ! " 

Yet  he  's  corned  up  to  the  hall  among  them  all ; 

So  well  he  became  his  courtesie;  70 

"  Well  may  ye  be,  my  good  Laird's  Jock, 

But  the  deil  bless  all  your  companie ! 

"  I'm  come  to  plain  of  your  man  Fair  Johnnie  Arm- 
strong, 

And  syne  his  billie  Willie,"  quo'  he; 
"How  they  have  been  in  my  house  this  last  night. 

And  they  have  ta'en  my  three  ky  frae  me." 

Quo'  Johnnie  Armstrong,  "We'll  him  hang;" 
"Nay,"  then  quo'  Willie,  "we'll  him  slae;" 

But  up  bespake  another  young  man, 

"We'll  knit  him  in  a  four-nooked  sheet,  80 

Give  him  his  burden  of  batts,  and  let  him  gae." 


DICK   O'  THE   COW  89 

Then  np  bespake  the  good  Laird's  Jock, 

The  best  fella  in  the  companie; 
"  Sit  thy  way  down  a  little  while,  Dickie, 

And   a   piece   of   thine  own  cow's  hough  I'll   give 
to  thee." 

But  Dickie's  heart  it  grew  so  great 

That  never  a  bit  of  it  he  dought  to  eat; 

But  Dickie  was  ware  of  an  auld  peat-house. 

Where  there  all  the  night  he  thought  for  to  sleep. 

Then  Dickie  was  ware  of  that  auld  peat-house,       90 
Where  there  all  the  night  he  thought  for  to  lie; 

And  a'  the  prayers  the  poor  fool  pray'd  was, 
"I  wish  I  had  a  mense  for  my  own  three  ky!" 

Then  it  was  the  use  of  Puddinburn, 
And  the  house  of  Mangertoun,  all  hail! 

These  that  came  not  at  the  first  call 

They  got  no  more  meat  till  the  next  meal. 

The  lads,  that -hungry  and  aevery  was, 
Above  the  door-head  they  flang  the  key. 

Dickie  took  good  notice  to  that;  100 

Says,  "  There's  a  booty  yonder  for  me." 

Then  Dickie  's  gone  into  the  stable. 

Where  there  stood  thirty  horse  and  three; 

He  has  tied  them  a'  with  St.  Mary  knot, 
All  these  horse  but  barely  three. 

He  has  tied  them  a'  with  St.  Mary  knot, 

All  these  horse  but  barely  three; 
He  has  loupen  on  one,  taken  another  in  his  hand, 

And  out  at  the  door  and  gone  is  Dickie. 


90  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

Then  on  the  mom,  when  the  clay  grew  light,  no 

The  shouts  and  cries  rose  loud  and  high; 

"What's  that  thief?"   quo'  the  good  Laird's  Jock, 
"Tell  me  the  truth  and  the  verity. 

"What's  that  thief?"   quo'  the  good  Laird's  Jock, 

"See  unto  me  ye  do  not  lie." 
"  Dick  o'  the  Cow  has  been  in  the  stable  this  last  nicht, 

And  has  my  brother's  horse  and  mine  frae  me." 

"  Ye  wad  never  be  tell'd  it,"  quo'  the  Laird's  Jock, 
"Have  ye  not  found  my  tales  fu'  leal? 

Ye  wad  never  out  of  England  bide,  120 

Till  crooked  and  blind  and  a'  wad  steal." 

"  But  will  thou  lend  me  thy  bay  ? "  Fair  Johnnie 
Armstrong  can  say, 

"  There 's  nae  mae  horse  loose  in  the  stable  but  he ; 
And  I'll  either  bring  ye  Dick  o'  the  Cow  again, 

Or  the  day  is  come  that  he  must  die." 

"To  lend  thee  my  bay,"  the  Laird's  Jock  can  say, 
"He's  both  worth  gold  and  good  monie; 

Dick  o'  the  Cow  has  away  twa  horse, 
I  wish  no  thou  should  make  him  three." 

He  has  ta'en  the  Laird's  jack  on  his  back,  130 

The  twa-handed  sword  that  hang  leugh  by  his  thigh; 

He  has  ta'en  the  steel  cap  on  his  head, 
And  on  is  he  to  follow  Dickie. 

Then  Dickie  was  not  a  mile  off  the  town, 

I  wot  a  mile  but  barely  three, 
Till  John  Armstrong  has  o'erta'en  Dick  o'  the  Cow, 

Hand  for  hand  on  Cannobie  lee. 


DICK  O'  THE   COW  91 

"Abide  thee,  bide  now,  Dickie,  than, 
The  day  is  come  that  thou  must  die." 

Dickie  looked  o'er  his  left  shoulder,  140 

"  Johnnie,  has  thou  any  mo  in  thy  companie  ? 

"There  is  a  preacher  in  our  chapel, 

And  a'  the  lee-lang  day  teaches  he; 
When  day  is  gone,  and  night  is  come, 

There 's  never  a  word  I  mark  but  three. 

"The  first  and  second's  Faith  and  Conscience, 
The  third  is,  Johnnie,  Take  heed  of  thee! 

But  what  faith  and  conscience  had  thou,  traitor. 
When  thou  took  my  three  ky  frae  me  ? 

"And  when  thou  had  ta'en  my  three  ky,  150 

Thou  thought  in  thy  heart  thou  was  no  well  sped ; 

But  thou  sent  thy  billie  Willie  o'er  the  know, 
And  he  took  three  co'erlets  off  my  wife's  bed." 

Then  Johnnie  let  a  spear  fa'  leugh  by  his  thigh. 
Thought  well  to  run  the  innocent  through. 

But  the  powers  above  was  more  than  his, 
He  ran  but  the  poor  fool's  jerkin  through. 

Together  they  ran  or  ever  they  blan  ; 

This  was  Dickie  the  fool,  and  he; 
Dickie  could  not  win  to  him  with  the  blade   of   the 
sword,  ^6° 

But  he  fell'd  him  with  the  plummet  under  the  eye. 

Now  Dickie  has  fell'd  Fair  Johnnie  Armstrong, 
The  prettiest  man  in  the  south  countrie; 

"Gramercie,"  then  can  Dickie  say, 

"I  had  twa  horse,  thou  has  made  me  three." 


92  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

He  has  ta'en  the  laird's  jack  off  his  back, 

The  twa-handed  sword  that  hang  leugh  by  his  thigh ; 

He  has  ta'en  the  steel  cap  off  his  head; 

"Johnnie,  I'll  tell  my  master  I  met  with  thee." 

When  Johnnie  waken'd  out  of  his  dream,  170 

I  wot  a  dreary  man  was  he; 
"  Is  thou  gone  now,  Dickie,  than  ? 

The  shame  gae  in  thy  companic  ! 

"  Is  thou  gone  now,  Dickie,  than  ? 

The  shame  go  in  thy  companie! 
For  if  I  should  live  this  hundred  year, 

I  shall  never  fight  with  a  fool  after  thee." 

Then  Dickie  corned  home  to  lord  and  master, 

Even  as  fast  as  he  may  dree. 
"  Now,  Dickie,  I  shall  neither  eat  meat  nor  drink       180 

Till  high  hanged  that  thou  shall  be ! " 

"The  shame  speed  the  liars,  my  lord!"   quo'  Dickie, 
"That  was  no  the  promise  ye  made  to  me; 

For  I'd  never  gone  to  Liddesdale  to  steal 
Till  that  I  sought  my  leave  at  thee." 

"  But  what  gart  thou  steal  the  Laird's  Jock's  horse  ? 

And,  limmer,  what  gart  thou  steal  him  ? "  quo'  he ; 
"  For  lang  might  thou  in  Cumberland  dwelt 

Or  the  Laird's  Jock  had  stoln  aught  frae  thee." 

"Indeed  I  wot  ye  lied,  my  lord,  190 

And  even  so  loud  as  I  hear  ye  lie; 
I  won  him  frae  his  man,  Fair  Johnnie  Armstrong, 

Hand  for  hand  on  Cannobie  lee. 


DICK   O'   THE   COW  93 

"  There  's  the  jack  was  on  his  back, 

The  twa-handed  sword  that  hung  leugh  by  his  thigh ; 
There  's  the  steel  cap  was  on  his  head ; 

I  have  a'  these  tokens  to  let  you  see." 

"If  that  be  true  thou  to  me  tells 

(I  trow  thou  dare  not  tell  a  lie), 
I'll  give  thee  twenty  pound  for  the  good  horse,     200 

Well  teird  in  thy  cloak-lap  shall  be. 

"And  I'll  give  thee  one  of  my  best  milk-ky 
To  maintain  thy  wife  and  children  three; 

And  that  may  be  as  good,  I  think. 
As  ony  twa  o'  thine  might  be." 

"The  shame  speed  the  liars,  my  lord!"  quo'  Dickie; 

"  Trow  ye  ay  to  make  a  fool  of  me  ? 
I'll  either  have  thirty  pound  for  the  good  horse, 

Or  else  he  's  gae  to  Mattan  Fair  wi'  me." 

Then  he  has  given  him  thirty  pound   for   the   good 
horse,  210 

All  in  gold  and  good  monie: 
He  has  given  him  one  of  his  best  milk-ky 

To  maintain  his  wife  and  children  three. 

Then  Dickie  's  come  down  through  Carlisle  town. 

Even  as  fast  as  he  may  dree. 
The  first  of  men  that  he  with  met 

Was  my  lord's  brother.  Bailiff  Glazenberrie. 

"Well  may  ye  be,  my  good  Ralph  Scrupe!" 
"Welcome,  my  brother's  fool!"   quo'  he; 

"Where    did    thou    get    Fair    Johnnie    Armstrong's 
horse  ?  "  220 

"Where  did  I  get  him  but  steal  him,"  quo'  he. 


94  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

"But   -svill    thou    sell    me    Fair   Johnnie   Armstrong's 
horse  ? 

And,  billie,  will  thou  sell  him  to  me?"   quo'  he; 
"Ay,  and  thou  tell  me  the  monie  on  my  cloak-lap, 

For  there's  not  one  farthing  I'll  trust  thee." 

"I'll  give  thee  fifteen  pound  for  the  good  horse. 

Well  told  on  thy  cloak-lap  shall  be; 
And  I'll  give  thee  one  of  my  best  milk-ky 

To  maintain  thy  wife  and  thy  children  three." 

"  The  shame  speed  the  liars,  my  lord ! "  quo'  Dickie,  230 
"  Trow  ye  ay  to  make  a  fool  of  me  ?  "   quo'  he ; 

"I'll  either  have  thirty  pound  for  the  good  horse, 
Or  else  he 's  to  Mattan  Fair  with  me." 

He  has  given  him  thirty  pound  for  the  good  horse. 

All  in  gold  and  good  monie; 
He  has  given  him  one  of  his  best  milk-ky 

To  maintain  his  wife  and  children  three. 

Then  Dickie  lap  a  loup  on  high, 

And  I  wot  a  loud  laughter  leugh  he; 

"  I  wish  the  neck  of  the  third  horse  were  broken,       240 
For  I  have  a  better   of   my  own,  and  onie   better 
can  be." 

Then  Dickie  comed  hame  to  his  wife  again. 

Judge  ye  how  the  poor  fool  he  sped! 
He  has  given  her  three  score  of  English  pounds 

For  the  three  auld  co'erlets  was  ta'en  off  her  bed. 

"  Ha'e,  take  thee  there  twa  as  good  ky, 

I  trow,  as  all  thy  three  might  be; 
And  yet  here  is  a  white-footed  nag, 

I  think  he'll  carry  both  thee  and  me. 


DICK   O'   THE   COW  95 

"But  I  may  no  longer  in  Cumberland  dwell;  250 

The  Armstrongs  they'll  hang  me  high." 

But  Dickie  has  ta'en  leave  at  lord  and  master, 
And  Burgh  under  Stanemuir  there  dwells  Dickie. 


EARL  BOTHWELL. 
(1568) 

Woe  worth  thee,  woe  worth  thee,  false  Scotland! 

For  thou  hast  ever  wrought  by  a  sleight; 
For  the  worthiest  prince  that  ever  was  born 

You  hanged  under  a  cloud  by  night. 

The  Queen  of  France  a  letter  wrote. 

And  sealed  it  Avith  heart  and  ring. 
And  bade  him  come  Scotland  within, 

And  she  would  marry  him  and  crown  him  king. 

To  be  a  king,  it  is  a  pleasant  thing, 

To  be  a  prince  unto  a  peer; 
But  you  have  heard,  and  so  have  I  too, 

A  man  may  well  buy  gold  too  dear. 

There  was  an  Italian  in  that  place 
Was  as  well  beloved  as  ever  was  he ; 

Lord  David  was  his  name. 

Chamberlain  unto  the  queen  was  he. 

For  if  the  king  had  risen  forth  of  his  place, 
He  would  have  sit  him  down  in  the  chair. 

And  tho'  it  beseemed  him  not  so  well, 
Altho'  the  king  had  been  present  there. 


9G  BALLADS   AND    POEMS 

Some  lords  in  Scotland  waxed  wondrous  wroth, 
And  quarrell'd  with  him  for  the  nonce; 

I  shall  you  tell  how  it  befell ; 

Twelve  daggers  were  in  him  all  at  once. 

Then  some  of  the  lords  of  Scotland  waxed  wroth. 

And  made  their  vow  vehemently; 
"  For  death  of  the  queen's  chamberlain 

The  king  himseK  he  shall  die." 

They  strewed  his  chamber  over  with  gunpowder, 
And  laid  green  rushes  in  his  way;  30 

For  the  traitors  thought  that  night 
The  worthy  king  for  to  betray. 

To  bed  the  worthy  king  made  him  boun; 

To  take  his  rest,  that  was  his  desire; 
He  was  no  sooner  cast  on  sleep 

But  his  chamber  was  on  a  blazing  fire. 

Up  he  lope,  and  a  glass  window  broke, 

He  had  thirty  foot  for  to  fall; 
Lord  Bothwell  kept  a  privy  watch 

Underneath  his  castle  wall.  40 

"  Who  have  we  here  ? "   said  Lord  Bothwell ; 

"Answer  me,  now  I  do  call." 

"Eang  Henry  the  Eighth  my  uncle  was; 

.  Some  pity  show  for  his  sweet  sake ! 
Ah,  Lord  Bothwell,  I  know  thee  well; 

Some  pity  on  me  I  pray  thee  take ! " 

"I'll  pity  thee  as  much,"  he  said, 

"And  as  much  favour  I'll  show  to  thee, 

As  thou  had  on  the  queen's  chamberlain 

That  day  thou  deemedst  him  to  die."  50 


EARL   BOTHWELL  97 

Through  halls  and  towers  this  king  they  led, 
Through  castles  and  towers  that  were  high, 

Through  an  arbour  into  an  orchard, 
And  there  hanged  him  in  a  pear  tree. 

When  the  governor  of  Scotland  he  heard  tell 

That  the  worthy  king  he  was  slain, 
He  hath  banished  the  queen  so  bitterly 

That  in  Scotland  she  dare  not  remain. 

But  she  is  fled  into  merry  England, 

And  Scotland  too  aside  hath  lain,  6g 

And  through  the  Queen  of  England's  good  grace 

Now  in  England  she  doth  remain. 

Traditional  Ballad. 


THE  RISING  IN  THE  NORTH. 
(1569) 

Listen,  lively  lordings  all, 

Lithe  and  listen  unto  me. 
And  I  will  sing  of  a  noble  earl, 

The  noblest  earl  in  the  North  Countrie, 

Earl  Percy  is  into  his  garden  gone, 
And  after  him  walks  his  fair  ladie. 

"I  hear  a  bird  sing  in  my  ear 
That  I  must  either  fight  or  flee." 

"Now  heaven  forefend,  my  dearest  lord, 
That  ever  such  harm  should  hap  to  thee, 

But  go  to  London  to  the  Court; 
And  fair  fall  truth  and  honesty ! " 

s.  7 


98  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

"Now  nay,  now  nay,  my  lady  gay, 

Alas!   thy  counsel  suits  not  me; 
Mine  enemies  prevail  so  fast 

That  at  the  Court  I  may  not  be." 

"0  go  to  the  Court  yet,  good  my  lord. 
And  take  thy  gallant  men  with  thee. 

And  if  any  dare  to  do  you  wrong 

Then  your  warrant  they  may  be."  20 

"Now  nay,  now  nay,  thou  lady  fair, 

The  Court  is  full  of  subtiltie, 
And  if  I  go  to  the  Court,  lady. 

Never  more  I  may  thee  see." 

"Yet  go  to  the  Court,  my  lord,"  she  says, 

"And  I  myself  will  go  wi'  thee; 
At  Court  then  for  my  dearest  lord 

His  faithful  borrow  I  will  be." 

"Now  nay,  now  nay,  my  lady  dear, 

Far  lever  had  I  lose  my  life  30 

Than  leave  among  my  cruel  foes 
My  love  in  jeopardy  and  strife. 

"But  come  thou  hither,  my  little  foot-page, 

Come  thou  hither  unto  me. 
To  Maister  Norton  thou  must  go 

In  all  the  haste  that  ever  may  be. 

"  Commend  me  to  that  gentleman, 
And  bear  this  letter  hero  fro  me, 

And  say  that  earnestly  I  pray 

He  will  ride  in  my  company."  40 


THE   RISING   IN   THE   NORTH  99 

One  while  the  little  foot-page  went, 

And  another  while  he  ran, 
Until  he  came  to  his  journey's  end, 

The  little  foot-page  never  blan. 

When  to  that  gentleman  he  came, 

Down  he  kneeled  on  his  knee; 
Quoth  he,  "My  lord  commendeth  him. 

And  sends  this  letter  unto  thee." 

And  when  the  letter  it  was  read 

Afore  that  goodly  company,  50 

I  wis  if  you  the  truth  would  know. 

There  was  many  a  weeping  eye. 

He  said,  "Come  hither,  Christopher  Norton, 
A  gallant  youth  thou  seem'st  to  be. 

What  dost  thou  counsel  me,  my  son, 
Now  that  good  earl's  in  jeopardy?" 

"Father,  my  counsel's  fair  and  free, 

That  earl  he  is  a  noble  lord. 
And  whatsoever  to  him  you  hight, 

I  would  not  have  you  break  your  word."      60 

"Gramercy,  Christopher,  my  son, 

Thy  counsel  well  it  liketh  me. 
And  if  we  speed  and  'scape  with  life 

Well  advanced  shalt  thou  be. 

"Come  you  hither,  my  nine  good  sons, 

Gallant  men  I  trow  you  be. 
How  many  of  you,  my  children  dear, 

Will  stand  by  that  good  earl  and  me?" 

7—2 


100  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

Eight  of  thera  did  answer  make, 

Eight  of  them  spake  hastilie:  7" 

"0  father,  till  the  day  we  die, 

We'll  stand  by  that  good  earl  and  thee ! " 

"Gramercy  now,  ray  children  dear. 

You  show  yotirselves  right  bold  and  brave, 

And  whethersoe'er  I  live  or  die, 
A  father's  blessing  you  shall  have. 

"But  what  say'st  thou,  O  Francis  Norton? 

Thou  art  mine  eldest  son  and  heir ; 
Somewhat  lies  brooding  in  thy  breast: 

Whatever  it  be,  to  me  declare."  8o 

"Father,  you  are  an  aged  man. 

Your  head  is  white,  your  beard  is  gray; 

It  were  a  shame  at  these  your  years, 
For  you  to  rise  in  such  a  fray." 

"Now  fie  upon  thee,  coward  Francis, 
Thou  never  learnedst  this  of  me; 

When  thoa  wert  young  and  tender  of  age, 
Why  did  I  make  so  much  of  thee  ? " 

"But,  father,  I  will  wend  with  you. 

Unarmed  and  naked  will  I  be,  9° 

And  he  that  strikes  against  the  crown, 
Ever  an  ill  death  may  he  dee." 

Then  rose  that  reverend  gentleman, 
And  with  him  came  a  goodly  band 

To  join  the  brave  Earl  Percy, 

And  all  the  flower  o'  Northumberland. 


THE   RISING    IN   THE   NORTH  101 

With  them  the  noble  Neville  came. 
The  earl  of  Westmoreland  was  ho; 

At  Wetherby  they  mustered  their  host, 

Thirteen  thousand  fair  to  see.  loo 

Lord  Westmoreland  his  ancient  raised, 

The  Dun  Bull  he  raised  on  high; 
Three  Dogs  with  golden  collars 

Were  there  set  out  most  royally. 

Earl  Percy  there  his  ancient  spread, 
The  Half-Moon  shining  all  so  fair; 

The  Norton's  ancient  had  the  Cross, 

And  the  Five  Wounds  our  Lord  did  bear. 

Then  Sir  George  Bowes  he  straightway  rose, 
After  them  some  spoil  to  make;  no 

Those  noble  earls  turned  back  again, 
And  aye  they  vowed  that  knight  to  take. 

The  baron  he  to  his  castle  fled, 

To  Barnard  Castle  then  fled  he; 
The  uttermost  walls  were  easy  to  win; 

The  earls  have  won  them  presently. 

The  uttermost  walls  were  lime  and  brick. 
But  though  they  won  them  soon  anon, 

Long  ere  they  won  the  innermost  walls, 
For  they  were  cut  in  rock  of  stone.  120 

Then  news  unto  leeve  London  came 
In  all  the  speed  that  ever  may  be. 

And  word  is  brought  to  our  royal  queen 
Of  the  rising  in  the  North  Countrie. 


102  BALLADS    AND   POEMS 

Her  grace  slie  turned  her  round  about, 
And  like  a  royal  queen  she  swore, 

"I  will  ordain  them  such  a  breakfast 
As  never  was  in  the  North  before." 

She  caused  thirty  thousand  men  be  raised, 
With  horse  and  harness  fair  to  see,  130 

She  caused  thirty  thousand  men  be  raised 
To  take  the  earls  i'  th'  North  Countrie. 

Wi'  them  the  false  Earl  Warwick  went, 
Th'  Earl  Sussex  and  the  Lord  Hunsden; 

Until  they  to  York  Castle  came, 
I  wis  they  never  stint  ne  blan. 

Now  spread  thy  ancient,  Westmoreland, 
Thy  Dun  Bull  fain  would  we  spy. 

And  thou,  the  Earl  o'  Northumberland, 

Now  raise  thy  half -moon  up  on  high !  140 

But  the  Dun  Bull  is  fled  and  gone, 
And  the  Half-Moon  vanished  away; 

The  earls,  though  they  were  brave  and  bold, 
Against  so  many  could  not  stay. 

Thee,  Norton,  wi'  thine  eight  good  sons, 
They  doom'd  to  die,  alas !   for  ruth ! 

Thy  reverend  locks  thee  could  not  save, 
Nor  them  their  fair  and  blooming  youth. 

Wi'  them  full  many  a  gallant  wight 

They  cruelly  bereaved  of  life,  15° 

And  many  a  child  made  fatherless, 
And  Avidowed  many  a  tender  Avife. 

Traditional  Ballad. 


MARY   AMBREE  103 

MARY  AMBREE. 
(1584) 

When    captains   courageous,   wliom   death   could   not 

daunt, 
Did  march  to  the  siege  of  the  city  of  Gaunt, 
They  mustered  their  soldiers  by  two  and  by  three, 
And  the  foremost  in  battle  was  Mary  Ambree. 

When  brave  Sir  John  Major  was  slain  in  her  sight, 
Who  was  her  true  lover,  her  joy,  and  delight, 
Because  he  was  slain  most  treacherousHe, 
Then  vowed  to  revenge  him  Mary  Ambree. 

She  clothed  herself  from  the  top  to  the  toe 

In  buff  of  the  bravest,  most  seemly  to  show;  lo 

A  fair  shirt  of  mail  then  slipped  on  she; 

Was  not  this  a  brave  bonny  lass,  Mary  Ambree? 

A  helmet  of  proof  she  straight  did  provide, 
A  strong  arming  sword  she  girt  by  her  side, 
On  her  hand  a  goodly  fair  gauntlet  put  she; 
Was  not  this  a  brave  bonny  lass,  Mary  Ambree? 

Then  took  she  her  sword  and  her  target  in  hand, 
Bidding  all  such,  as  would,  be  of  her  band; 
To  wait  on  her  person  came  thousand  and  three; 
Was  not  tliis  a  brave  bonny  lass,  Mary  Ambree  ?        20 

"My  soldiers,"  she  saith,  "so  valiant  and  bold. 
Now  follow  your  captain,  whom  you  do  behold; 
Still  foremost  in  battle  myself  will  I  be." 
Was  not  this  a  brave  bonny  lass,  Mary  Ambree? 


104)  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

Then  cried  out  her  soldiers,  and  loud  they  did  say, 
"So  well  thou  becomest  this  gallant  array, 
Tliy  heart  and  thy  weapons  so  well  do  agree, 
There  was  none  ever  like  Mary  Ambree." 

She  cheered  her  soldiers,  that  foughten  for  life, 
With    ancient   and    standard,   with    drum    and    with 
fife,  30 

With  brave  clanging  trumpets,  that  sounded  so  free; 
Was  not  this  a  brave  bonny  lass,  Mary  Ambree? 

"Before  I  will  see  the  worst  of  you  all 
To  come  into  danger  of  death,  or  of  thrall. 
This  hand  and  this  life  I  will  venture  so  free." 
Was  not  this  a  brave  bonny  lass,  Mary  Ambree? 

She  led  up  her  soldiers  in  battle  array, 

'Gainst  three  times  their  number  by  break  of  the  day ; 

Seven  hours  in  skirmish  continued  she; 

Was  not  this  a  brave  bonny  lass,  Mary  Ambree  ?        40 

She  filled  the  skies  with  the  smoke  of  her  shot, 
And  her  enemies'  bodies  with  bullets  so  hot; 
For  one  of  her  own  men  a  score  killed  she; 
Was  not  this  a  brave  bonny  lass,  Mary  Ambree  ? 

And  when  her  false  gunner,  to  spoil  her  intent, 
Away  all  her  pellets  and  powder  had  sent, 
Straight  ^vith  her  keen  weapon  she  slashed  him  in 

three ; 
Was  not  this  a  brave  bonny  lass,  Mary  Ambree? 

Being  falsely  betrayed  for  lucre  of  hire, 
At  length  she  was  forced  to  make  a  retire;  50 

Then  her  soldiers  into  a  strong  castle  drew  she; 
Was  not  this  a  brave  bonny  lass,  Mary  Ambree? 


MAKY   AMBREE  105 

Her  foes  they  beset  her  on  every  side, 
As  thinking  close  siege  she  could  never  abide; 
To  beat  down  the  walls  they  all  did  decree : 
But  stoutly  defied  them  brave  Mary  Ambree. 

Then  took  she  her  sword  and  her  target  in  hand, 
And  mounting  the  walls  all  undaunted  did  stand, 
There  daring  their  captains  to  match  any  three; 
O,  what  a  brave  captain  was  Mary  Ambree !  60 

"Now  say,  English  captain,  what  wouldest  thou  give 
To  ransom  thyself,  which  else  must  not  Kve  ? 
Come  yield  thyseK  quickly  or  slain  thou  must  be." 
Then  smiled  sweetly  brave  Mary  Ambree. 

"Ye  captains  courageous,  of  valoiir  so  bold. 
Whom  think  you  before  you  now  you  do  behold? 
No  knight,  sirs,  of  England,  nor  captain  you  see, 
But  a  poor  simple  lass,  called  Mary  Ambree." 

"But  art  thou  a  woman  as  thou  dost  declare, 
Wliose  valour  hath  proved  so  undaunted  in  war  ?        70 
If  England  doth  yield  such  brave  lasses  as  thee. 
Full  well  may  they  conquer,  fair  Mary  Ambree!" 

Then  to  her  own  country  she  back  did  return, 
Still  holding  the  foes  of  fair  England  in  scorn; 
Therefore  English  captains  of  every  degree 
Sing  forth  the  brave  valours  of  Mary  Ambree, 

Traditional  Ballad. 


LOG  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

BRAVE  LORD  WILLOUGHBY. 

(158-) 

The  fifteentli  day  of  July, 

With  glistering  spear  and  shield, 
A  famous  fight  in  Flanders 

Was  foughten  in  the  field; 
The  most  courageous  officers 

Were  English  captains  three, 
But  the  bravest  man  in  battle 

Was  brave  Lord  Willougliby. 

The  next  was  Captain  Norris, 

A  valiant  man  was  he; 
The  other.  Captain  Turner, 

From  field  would  never  flee. 
With  fifteen  hundred  fighting  men — 

Alas,  there  were  no  more, — 
They  fought  with  fourteen  thousand  men 

Upon  the  bloody  shore. 

"  Stand  to  it,  noble  pikemen. 

And  look  you  round  about! 
And  shoot  you  right,  you  bowmen, 

And  we  will  keep  them  out! 
You  musquet  and  caliver  men. 

Do  you  prove  true  to  me; 
I'll  be  the  foremost  man  in  fight  1 " 

Says  brave  Lord  Willougliby. 


BRAVE   LORD   WILLOUGHBY  107 

And  tlien  the  bloody  enemy 

Tliey  fiercely  did  assail; 
And  fought  it  out  most  furiously, 

Not  doubting  to  prevail. 
The  wounded  men  on  both  sides  fell, 

Most  piteous  for  to  see,  3° 

Yet  nothing  could  the  courage  quell 

Of  brave  Lord  Willoughby. 

For  seven  hours,  to  all  men's  view. 

The  fight  endured  sore. 
Until  our  men  so  feeble  grew 

That  they  could  fight  no  more. 
And  then  upon  dead  horses 

Full  savourly  they  ate, 
And  drank  the  puddle-water— 

They  could  no  bettor  get.  40 

When  they  had  fed  so  freely, 

They  kneeled  on  the  ground, 
And  praised  God  devoutly 

For  the  favour  they  had  found; 
And  beating  up  their  colours. 

The  fight  they  did  renew. 
And  turning  towards  the  Spaniard, 

A  thousand  more  they  slew. 

The  sharp  steel-pointed  arrows 

And  bullets  thick  did  fly;  5° 

Then  did  our  valiant  soldiers 

Charge  on  most  furiously; 
Which  made  the  Spaniards  waver, 

They  thought  it  best  to  flee; 
They  feared  the  stout  behaviour 

Of  brave  Lord  Willoughby. 


108  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

And  then  tlie  fearful  enemy- 
Was  quickly  put  to  flight; 

Our  men  pursued  courageously 

And  caught  their  forces  quite.  60 

But  at  last  they  gave  a  shout 
Which  echoed  through  the  sky; 

"God  and  Saint  George  for  England  I" 
The  conquerors  did  cry. 

This  news  was  brought  to  England, 

With  all  the  speed  might  be, 
And  soon  our  gracious  Qaeen  was  told 

Of  this  same  victory. 
"0  this  is  brave  Lord  Willoughby, 

My  love  that  ever  won;  70 

Of  all  the  Lords  of  honour 

'Tis  he  great  deeds  hath  done." 

To  the  soldiers  that  were  maimed 

And  wounded  in  the  fray, 
The  Queen  allowed  a  pension 

Of  fifteenpence  a  day: 
And  from  all  costs  and  charges 

She  quit  and  set  them  free; 
And  this  she  did  all  for  the  sake 

Of  brave  Lord  Willoughby.  80 

Then,  courage !   noble  Englishmen, 

And  never  be  dismayed: 
If  that  we  be  but  one  to  ten 

We  will  not  be  afraid 
To  fight  with  foreign  enemies, 

And  set  our  nation  free; 
And  thus  I  end  the  bloody  bout 

Of  brave  Lord  Willoughby. 

Anon. 


THE   ARMADA  109 

THE  ARMADA. 
(1588) 

Attend,  all  ye  wlio  list  to  hear  our  noble  England's 

praise ; 
I  tell   of    the   thrice   famous   deeds   she   wrought  in 

ancient  days, 
When  that  great  fleet  invincible  against  her  bore  in 

vain 
Tlie  richest  spoils  of   Mexico,  the  stoutest  hearts  of 

Spain. 

It  was  about  the  lovely  close   of   a  warm  summer 

day, 
There    came    a    gallant    merchant-ship    full    sail    to 

Plymouth  Bay; 
Her    crew  hath    seen    Castile's    black    fleet,  beyond 

Aurigny^s  isle, 
At  earliest  twilight,  on  the  waves  lie  heaving  many 

a  mile. 
At  sunrise  she  escaped  their  van,  by  Grod's  especial 

grace; 
And  the  tall  Pinta,  till  the  noon,  had  held  her  close 

in  chase.  lo 

Forthwith   a   guard  at  every  gun  was   placed   along 

the  wall; 
The  beacon  blazed  upon  the  roof    of    Edgecumbe's 

lofty  hall; 
Many  a  light  fishing-bark  put  out  to  pry  along  the 

coast, 
And  with    loose  rein  and  bloody  spur  rode  inland 

many  a  post. 


110  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

With  his  white  hair  unbonneted,  the  stout  old  sheriff 

comes; 
Behind  him  march  the  halberdiers ;  before  him  sound 

the  drums; 
His  yeomen  round  the  market  cross  make  clear  an 

ample  space; 
For  there  behoves  him  to  set  up  the  standard  of  Her 

Grace. 
And   haughtily  the  trumpets   peal,  and   gaily   dance 

the  bells, 
.A^   slow  upon  the  labouring  wind   the  royal  blazon 

swells.  20 

Look  how  the  Lion  of  the  sea  lifts  up  his  ancient 

crown. 
And  underneath  his  deadly  paw  treads  the  gay  lilies 

down ! 
So  stalked  he  when  he  turned  to  flight  on  that  famed 

Picard  field 
Bohemia's  plume,  and  Genoa's  bow,  and  Caesar's  eagle 

shield. 
So  glared  he  when  at  Agincourt  in  wrath  he  turned 

to  bay. 
And  crushed  and  torn  beneath  his  claws  the  princely 

hunters  lay. 
Ho !  strike  the  flagstaff  deep,  Sir  Knight :  ho  !  scatter 

flowers,  fair  maids: 
Ho !   gunners,  fire  a  loud  salute :   ho !   gallants,  draw 

your  blades: 
Thou  sun,  shine  on  her   joyously :    ye  breezes,  waft 

her  wide; 
Our    glorious    SEMPEJi    EADBM,    the    banner    of    our 

pride.  3° 


THE  ARMADA  HI 

The  freshening  breeze  of  eve  unfurled  that  banner's 

massy  fold; 
The  parting  gleam   of   sunshine  kissed  that  haughty 

scroll  of  gold; 
Night  sank  upon  the  dusky  beach  and  on  the  purple 

sea, 
Such  night  in  England  ne'er  had  been,  nor  e'er  again 

shall  be. 
From   Eddystone  to  Berwick  bounds,  from  Lynn  to 

Milford  Bay, 
That  time  of  slumber  was  as  bright  and  busy  as  the 

day; 
For  swift  to  east  and  swift  to  west  the  ghastly  war- 
flame  spread. 
High  on  Saint  Michael's  Mount  it  shone :  it  shone  on 

Beachy  Head. 
Far  on  the  deep  the  Spaniard  saw,  along  each  southern 

shire. 
Cape  beyond  cape,  in  endless  range,  those  twinkling 

points  of  fire.  40 

The  fisher  left  his  skiff  to  rock  on  Tamar's  glittering 

waves : 
The  rugged  miners  poured  to  war  from  Mendip's  sun- 
less caves! 
O'er  Longleat's  towers,   o'er  Cranbourne's  oaks,  the 

fiery  herald  flew: 
He  roused  the  shepherds  of  Stonehenge,  the  rangers 

of  Beaulieu. 
Eight  sharp  and  quick  the  bells  all  night  rang  out 

from  Bristol  town. 
And   ere  the   day  three   hundred   horse  had  met  on 

Clifton  down; 


112  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

The  sentinel  on  Whitehall  gate  looked  forth  into  the 

night, 
And   saw  o'erhanging   Richmond    Hill   the   streak  of 

blood-red  light: 
Then  bugle's  note  and  cannon's  roar  the   death-like 

silence  broke, 
And  with  one  start,  and  with  one  cry,  the  royal  city 

woke.  50 

At  once  on  all  her  stately  gates  arose  the  answering 

fires; 
At  once  the  wild  alarum  clashed  from  all  her  reeling 

spires ; 
From  all  the  batteries  of  the  Tower  pealed  loud  the 

voice  of  fear; 
And  all  the  thousand  masts   of   Thames  sent  back  a 

louder  cheer; 
And  from  the  furthest  wards  was  heard  the  rush  of 

hurrying  feet, 
And   the   broad   streams   of    pikes   and   flags   rushed 

down  each  roaring  street; 
And  broader  still  became  the  blaze,  and  louder  still 

the  din, 
As  fast  from   every   village    round    the    horse   came 

spurring  in. 
And    eastward    straight    from    wild    Blackheath    the 

warlike  errand  went. 
And   roused   in   many    an    ancient   hall    the    gallant 

squires  of  Kent.  60 

Southward   from   Surrey's    pleasant    hills    flew    those 

bright  couriers  forth; 
High  on  bleak  Hampstead's  swarthy  moor  they  started 

for  the  north: 


THE   ARMADA  113 

And  on,  and  on,  ^vithout  a  pause,  untired  they  bounded 

stiU: 
All  night  from   tower   to   tower   they   sprang;    they 

sprang  from  hill  to  hill: 
Till  the  proud  Peak  unfurled  the  flag  o'er  Darwin's 

rocky  dales, 
Till  like  volcanoes  flared  to  heaven  the  stormy  hills 

of  Wales, 
Till  twelve  fair  counties  saw  the  blaze  on  Malvern's 

lonely  height, 
Till  streamed  in  crimson  on  the  wind  the  Wrekin's 

crest  of  light, 
Till  broad  and  fierce  the  star  came  forth  on  Ely's 

stately  fane. 
And  tower   and   hamlet   rose   in  arms  o'er   all   the 

boundless  plain;  70 

Till  Belvoir's  lordly  terraces  the  sign  to  Lincoln  sent, 
And  Lincoln  sped  the  message  on  o'er  the  wide  vale 

of  Trent; 
Till   Skiddaw  saw  the   fire   that  burned   on   Gaunt's 

embattled  pile. 
And  the  red  glare  on  Skiddaw  roused  the  burghers 

of  Carlisle. 

LOED  Macaulay. 


114  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

THE    DEFEAT    OF    THE    SPANISH    ARMADA. 
(1588) 

Some  years  of  lato,  in  eiglity-eiglit, 

As  I  do  well  remember, 
It  was,  some  say,  the  nineteenth  of  May, 

And  some  say  in  September, 

And  some  say  in  September. 

The  Spanish  train  launch'd  forth  amain, 

With  many  a  fine  bravado, 
Their  (as  they  thought,  buK.it  proved  not) 

Invincible  Armado, 

Invincible  Armado.  lo 

Tliere  was  a  little  man,  that  dwelt  m  Spain, 

Who  shot  well  in  a  gun-a, 
Don  Pedro  hight,  as  black  a  wight 

As  the  Knight  of  the  Sun-a, 

As  the  Knight  of  the  Sun-a. 

King  Philip  made  hira  admiral. 

And  bid  him  not  to  stay-a, 
But  to  destroy  both  man  and  boy, 

And  so  to  come  away-a, 

And  so  to  come  away-a.  20 

Their  navy  was  well  victualled, 

With  biscuit,  pease  and  bacon ; 
They  brought  two  ships,  well  fraught  with  whips. 

But  I  think  they  were  mistaken. 

But  I  think  they  were  mistaken. 


THE   DEFEAT   OF   THE   SPANISH   ARMADA  115 

Their  men  -were  young,  munition  strong, 

And,  to  do  us  more  harm-a, 
They  thought  it  meet  to  join  the  fleet, 

All  with  the  Prince  of  Parma, 

All  with  the  Prince  of  Parma.  30 

They  coasted  round  about  our  land. 

And  so  came  in  by  Dover; 
But  we  had  men  set  on  'um,  then, 

And  threw  the  rascals  over, 

And  threw  the  rascals  over. 

The  Queen  was  then  at  Tilbury  j 

What  could  we  more  desire-a? 
And  Sir  Francis  Drake,  for  her  sweet  sake, 

Did  set  them  all  on  fire-a, 

Did  set  them  all  on  fire-a.  40 

Then  straight  they  fled,  by  sea  and  land, 

That  one  man  kill'd  three  score-a; 
And  had  not  they  all  ran  away. 

In  truth,  he  had  kill'd  more-a. 

In  truth,  he  had  kilVd  more-a. 

Then  let  them  neither  brag  nor  boast, 

But,  if  they  come  agen-a, 
Let  them  take  heed,  they  do  not  speed 

As  they  did,  you  know  when-a, 

As  they  did,  you  know  when-a.  5° 

Anon. 


8—2 


116  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

THE  FAME  OF  SIR  FRANCIS  DRAKE. 
(Drake  d.  1595) 

Sir  Drake,  whom  well  tlie  world's  end  knew, 

Which  thou  did  compass  round, 
And  whom  both  poles  of  heaven  once  saw, 

Which  north  and  south  do  bound; 

The  stars  above  would  make  thee  known, 

If  men  here  silent  were; 
The  sun  himself  cannot  forget 

His  fellow-traveller. 

Anon. 

CAPTAIN  WARD  AND  THE  RAINBOW. 
(c.  1605) 

Strike  up,  you  lusty  gallants, 

With  music  and  sound  of  drum, 
For  we  have  descried  a  rover, 

Upon  the  sea  is  come; 
His  name  is  Captain  Ward, 

Right  well  it  doth  appear, 
There  has  not  been  such  a  rover 

Found  out  this  thousand  j^^ear. 

For  he  hath  sent  unto  our  king. 

The  sixth  of  January,  lo 

Desiring  that  he  might  come  in, 

With  all  his  company; 


CAPTAIN   WARD   AND   THE   RAINBOW  117 

"And  if  your  king  will  let  me  come 

Till  I  my  tale  have  told, 
I  will  bestow  for  my  ransom 

Full  thirty  ton  of  gold." 

"O  nay,  0  nay,"  then  said  our  king, 

"  O  nay,  this  may  not  be, 
To  yield  to  such  a  rover, 

Myself  will  not  agree;  20 

He  hath  deceived  the  Frenchman, 

Likewise  the  King  of  Spain, 
And  how  can  he  be  true  to  me 

That  hath  been  false  to  twain?" 


With  that  our  king  provided 

A  ship  of  worthy  fame. 
Rainbow  she  is  called. 

If  you  would  know  her  name; 
Now  the  gallant  Rainbow 

She  rows  upon  the  sea,  30 

Five  hundred  gallant  seamen 

To  bear  her  company. 

The  Dutchman  and  the  Spaniard 

She  made  them  for  to  flee, 
Also  the  bonny  Frenchman, 

As  she  met  him  on  the  sea. 
Whereas  this  gallant  Rainbow 

Did  come  where  Ward  did  lie, 
"  Where  is  the  captain  of  this  ship  ?  " 

This  gallant  Rainbow  did  cry.  40 


118  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

"0  that  am  I,"  says  Captain  Ward, 

"Tliere's  no  man  bids  me  lie, 
And  if  thou  art  the  king's  fair  ship, 

Thou  art  welcome  unto  me." 
"I'll  tell  thee  what,"  says  Rainbow, 

"Our  king  is  in  great  grief 
That  thou  shouldst  lie  upon  the  sea 

And  play  the  arrant  thief; 


"And  will  not  let  our  merchants'  ships 

Pass  as  they  did  before;  5° 

Such  tidings  to  our  king  is  come, 

Which  grieves  his  heart  full  sore." 
With  that  this  gallant  Rainbow, 

She  shot,  out  of  her  pride. 
Full  fifty  gallant  brass  pieces, 

Charged  on  every  side. 


And  yet  these  gallant  shooters 

Prevailed  not  a  pin; 
Though  they  were  brass  on  the  outside. 

Brave  Ward  was  steel  within ;  6o 

"Shoot  on,  shoot  on,"  says  Captain  Ward, 

"Your  sport  well  pleaseth  me, 
And  he  that  first  gives  over 

Shall  yield  unto  the  sea. 


"  I  never  wronged  an  English  ship, 
J3ut  Turk  and  King  of  Spain, 

For  and  the  jovial  Dutchman 
As  I  met  on  the  main. 


CAPTAIN   WARD   AND   TUE   RAINJDOW  119 

If  I  had  known  your  king 

But  one-two  years  before,  7° 

I  would  have  saved  brave  Essex'  life, 

Whose  death  did  grieve  me  sore. 

"Go  tell  the  King  of  England, 

Go  tell  him  thus  from  me, 
If  he  reign  king  of  all  the  land, 

I  will  reign  king  at  sea." 
With  that  the  gallant  Rainbow  shot. 

And  shot,  and  shot  in  vain. 
And  left  the  rover's  company, 

And  returned  home  again.  So 

"Our  royal  King  of  England, 

Your  ship's  returned  again. 
For  Ward's  ship  is  so  strong 

It  never  will  be  ta'en." 
"  0  everlasting  ! "  says  our  king, 

"I  have  lost  jewels  three, 
Which  would  have  gone  unto  the  seas 

And  brought  proud  Ward  to  me. 

"The  first  was  Lord  Clifford, 

Earl  of  Cumberland;  9o 

The  second  was  the  Lord  Mount  joy, 

As  you  shall  understand ; 
The  third  was  brave  Essex, 

From  field  would  never  flee; 
Which  would  'a'  gone  unto  the  seas. 

And  brought  proud  Ward  to  uie." 

TradUiuual  Ballad. 


120  BALLADS  AND   POEMS 

WHEN  THE  KING  ENJOYS  HIS  OWN  AGAIN. 
(1643) 

What  Booker  can  prognosticate, 
Concerning  kings  or  kingdom's  fate  ? 
I  think  myself  to  be  as  wise 
As  he  that  gazeth  on  the  skies: 

My  skill  goes  beyond 

The  depths  of  a  Pond 
Or  Rivers  in  the  greatest  rain ; 

Whereby  I  can  tell, 

All  things  will  be  well, 
When  the  King  enjoys  his  own  again.        lo 

There's  neither  Swallow,  Dove,  nor  Dade 
Can  soar  more  high,  nor  deeper  wade; 
Nor  show  a  reason  from  the  stars. 
What  causeth  peace  or  civil  wars; 

The  man  in  the  moon 

May  wear  out  liis  shoon. 
By  running  after  Charles  his  wain; 

But  all's  to  no  end. 

For  the  times  will  not  mend 
Till  the  King  enjoys  his  own  again.  20 

Though  for  a  time  we  see  Whitehall 
With  cobwebs  hanging  on  the  wall, 
Instead  of  silk  and  silver  wave, 
Which  formerly  it  used  to  have; 
With  rich  perfume 
In  every  room. 


WHEN   THE   KING   ENJOYS   HIS   OWN   AGAIN        121 

Delightful  to  that  princely  train, 

Which  again  you  shall  see, 

When  the  time  it  shall  be 
That  the  King  enjoys  his  own  again.  3° 

Full  forty  years  the  royal  crown 
Hath  been  his  father's  and  his  own; 
And  is  there  anyone  but  he, 
That  in  the  same  should  sharer  be  ? 

For  who  better  may 

The  sceptre  sway, 
Than  he  that  hath  such  right  to  reign? 

Then  let's  hope  for  a  peace, 

For  the  wars  will  not  cease, 
Till  the  King  enjoys  his  own  again.  40 

Till  then  upon  Ararat's  hill 
My  Hope  shall  cast  her  anchor  still, 
Until  I  see  some  peaceful  dove 
Bring  home  the  branch  I  dearly  love: 

Then  will  I  wait 

Till  the  waters  abate. 
Which  now  disturb  my  troubled  brain, 

Else  never  rejoice 

Till  I  hear  the  voice, 
That  the  King  enjoys  his  own  again.  50 

Maktin  Paeker. 


122  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

SIE  NICHOLAS  AT  iMAESTON  MOOR. 
(1644) 

To  horse !  to  horse,  Sir  Nicholas,  the  clarion's  note  is 

high! 
To  horse !  to  horse,  Sir  Nicholas,  the  big  drum  makes 

reply  1 
Ere     this    hath    Lucas    marched,    with    his    gallant 

cavaliers, 
And  the  bray  of  Rupert's  trumpets  grows  fainter  on 

our  ears. 
To  horse !  to  horse  I  Sir  Nicholas !  White  Guy  is  at  the 

door, 
And    the    vulture   whets  his  beak   o'er   the   field   of 

Marston  Moor. 

Up  rose  the  Lady  Alice  from  her  brief  and  broken 
prayer, 

And  she  brought  a  silken  standard  down  the  narrow 
turret-stair; 

Oh  !  many  were  the  tears  that  those  radiant  eyes  had 
shed, 

As  she  worked  the  bright  word  "Glory"  in  the  gay 
and  glancing  thread;  lo 

And  mournful  was  the  smile  which  o'er  those  beau- 
teous features  ran, 

As  she  said:  "It  is  your  lady's  gift;  unfurl  it  in  the 
vanl" 


SIR   NICHOLAS   AT   MARSTON   MOOR  123 

"It   shall   flutter,  noble  wench,  where   the   best   and 

boldest  ride, 
Thro'  the  steel-clad  files  of  Skippon,  the  black  dragoons 

of  Pride ; 
The  recreant  soul  of  Fairfax  will  feel  a  sicklier  qualm, 
And  the  rebel  lips  of  Oliver  give  out  a  louder  psalm, 
When  they  see  my  lady's  gewgaw  flaunt  bravely  on 

their  wing, 
And  hear  her  loyal  soldiers'  shout,  For  God  and  for 

the  King!" 

'Tis  noon.     The  ranks  are  broken,  along  the  royal  line 
They  fly,  the  braggarts  of  the  court !  the  bullies  of  the 

Rhine!  20 

Stout  Langley's  cheer  is  heard  no  more,  and  Astley's 

helm  is  down. 
And  Rupert  sheathes  his  rapier  mth  a  curse  and  with 

a  frown, 
And   cold  Newcastle  mutters,   as  he  follows  in   the 

flight, 
"  The  G-erman  boar  had  better  far  have  supped  in  York 

to-night." 

Tlie  knight  is  all  alone,  his  steel  cap  cleft  in  twain. 
His  good  buff  jerkin  crimsoned  o'er  ^vith  many  a  gory 

stain; 
Yet  still  he  waves  the  standard,  and  cries  amid  the 

rout, 
"  For  Church  and  King,  fair  gentlemen  !  spur  on,  and 

fight  it  out !  " 
And  now  he  wards  a  Roundhead's  pike,  and  now  he 

hums  a  stave. 
And  here  he  quotes  a  stage-play,  and  there  he  fells  a 

knave.  3° 


124  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

God  speed  to  thee,  Sir  Nicliolas !  thou  hast  no  thought 

of  fear; 
God  speed  to  thee,  Sir  Nicholas  !  but  fearful  odds  are 

here ! 
The  traitors  ring  thee  round,  and  with  every  blow  and 

thrust, 
"  Down,  down,"  they  cry,  "with  Belial!  down  with  hira 

to  the  dust!" 
"  I  would,"  quoth  grim  old  Oliver,  "  that  Belial's  trusty 

sword 
This  day  were  doing  battle  for  the  Saints  and  for  the 

Lord!" 

The  Lady  Alice  sits  with  her  maidens  in  her  bower, 

The  grey-haired  warden  watches  from  the  castle's 
highest  tower; 

"  What  news  ?  what  news,  old  Anthony  ?  " — "  The  field 
is  lost  and  won  : 

The  ranks  of  war  are  melting  as  the  mists  beneath  the 
sun !  40 

And  a  wounded  man  speeds  hither — I'm  old  and  can- 
not see, 

Or  sure  I  am  that  sturdy  step  my  master's  step  should 
be!" 

"I  bring  thee  back  the  standard  from  as  rude  and 

rough  a  fray 
As  e'er  was  proof  of  soldier's  thews,   or  theme  for 

minstrel's  lay ! 
Bid  Hubert  fetch  the  silver  bowl,  and  liquor  quantum 

suff.  ■ 
I'll  make  a  shift  to  drain  it,  ere  1  part  with  boot  and 

buff— 


SIR   NICHOLAS   AT  MARSTON   MOOR  125 

Though    Guy    tlirough    many    a    gaping    Wound    is 

breathing   out  his  life, 
And   I   come   to  thee  a  landless  man,  my  fond   and 

faithful  wife. 

"Sweet!   we  will   fill  our  money-bags,  and  freight  a 

ship  for  France, 
And    mourn    in    merry   Paris    for   this  poor  realm's 

mischance :  5° 

Or  if  the  worst  betide  me,  why  better  axe  or  rope, 
Than  life  with  Lenthall  for  a  king,  and  Peters  for  a 

pope! 
Alas !  alas  !  my  gallant  Guy ! — out  on  the  crop-eared 

boor 
That  sent  me,  with  my  standard,  on  foot  from  Marston 

Moorl" 

W.  M.  Praed. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  NASEBY. 
(1645) 

Oh,  wherefore   come   ye   forth  in   triumph  from  the 
north, 
With  your  hands,  and  your  feet,  and  your  raiment 
all  red? 
And  wherefore   doth  your  rout  send  forth  a  joyous 
shout  ? 
And  whence  be  the  grapes  of  the  wine-press  which 
ye  tread  ? 


126  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

Ola,  evil  was  the  root,  and  bitter  was  the  fruit, 
And  crimson  was  the  juice  of  the  vintage  that  we 
trod ; 
For  we  trampled  on  the  throng  of   the  haughty  and 
the  strong, 
Who  sate  in  the  high  places,  and  slew  the  saints 
of  God. 

It  was  about  the  noon  of  a  glorious  day  of  June, 
That  we  saw  their  banners  dance,  and  their  cuirasses 
shine,  ^° 

And  the  Man  of  Blood  was  there,  with  his  long  es- 
senced  hair, 
And  Astley,  and  Sir  Marmaduke,  and  Rupert  of  the 
Rhine. 

Like  a  servant  of  the  Lord,  with  his  Bible  and  his 

sword. 

The  general  rode  along  us  to  form  us  to  the  fight. 

When  a  murmuring  sound  broke  out,  and  swelled  into 

a  shout. 

Among  the  godless  horsemen  upon  the  tyrant's  right. 

And  hark !  like  the  roar  of  the  billows  on  the  shore, 
The  cry  of  battle  rises  along  their  charging  line ! 

For  God!  for  the  Cause!  for  the  Church!  for  the  Laws! 

For  Charles  King  of  England,  and  Rupert  of  the 

Rhine  I  20 

The  furious  German  comes,  with  his  clarions  and  his 
drums. 
His  bravoes  of  Alsatia  and  pages  of  Whitehall ; 
They  are  bursting  on  our  flanks.     Grasp  your  pikes, 
close  your  ranks ; 
For  Rupert  never  comes  bat  to  conquer  or  to  fall. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  NAREBY  127 

Thej  are  here !   They  rush  on  !  We  are  broken !  We 
are  gone! 
Our  left  is  borne  before  them  like  stubble  on  the 
blast. 
0  Lord,  put  forth  thy  might!     O   Lord,  defend  the 
right ! 
Stand  back  to  back,  in  God's  name,  and  fight  it  to 
the  last. 


Stout  Skippon  hath  a  wound;  the  centre  hath  given 
ground. 
Hark !  hark  !    What  means  the  trampling  of  horse- 
men on  our  rear  ?  3° 
Whose  banner  do  I  see,  boys  ?  'Tis  he,  thank  God,  'tis 
he,  boys. 
Bear  up  another  minute:  brave  Oliver  is  hero. 


Their  heads  all  stooping  low,  their  points  all  in  a  row, 
Like  a  whirlwind  on  the  trees,  like  a  deluge  on  the 
dykes, 

Oar  cuirassiers  have  burst  on  the  ranks  of  the  Accurst, 
And  at  a  shock  have  scattered  the  forest  of  his  pikes. 


Fast,  fast,  the  gallants  ride,  in  some  safe  nook  to  hide 

Their  coward  heads,  predestined  to  rot  on  Temple 

Bar, 

And   he — he   turns,   he   flies: — shame   on   those  cruel 

eyes 

That  bore  to  look  on  torture,  and  dare  not  look  on 

war  1  40 


128  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

Ho  !  comrades,  scour  the  plain ;  and,  ere  ye  strip  the 
slain. 
First  give  another  stab  to  make  your  search  secure ; 
Then  shake   from  sleeves  and   pockets    their  broad- 
pieces  and  lockets, 
The  tokens  of  the  wanton,  the  plunder  of  the  poor. 

Fools !  your  doublets  shone  \vith  gold,  and  your  hearts 
were  gay  and  bold, 
When  you  kissed   your  lily  hands  to  your  lemans 
to-day ; 
And  to-morrow  shall  the  fox,  from  her  chambers  in  the 
rocks, 
Lead  forth  her  tawny  cubs  to  howl  above  the  prey. 

\^rhere  be  your  tongues  that  late  mocked  at  heaven 
and  hell  and  fate. 
And  the  fingers  that  once  were  so  busy  with  your 
blades,  50 

Your  perfumed  satin  clothes,  your  catches  and  your 
oaths, 
Your  stage-plays  and  your  sonnets,  your  diamonds 
and  your  spades  ? 

Down,  down,  for  ever  down  with  the  mitre  and  the 
crown. 
With  the  Belial  of  the  Court,  and  the  Mammon  of 
the  Pope ; 
There  is  woe  in  Oxford  halls;  there  is  wail  in  Durham's 
stalls ; 
The  Jesuit  smites  his  bosom;   the  bishop  rends  his 
cope. 


THE  BATTLE   OF   NASEBY  129 

And  she  of  the  seven  hills  shall  mourn  her  children's 
ills, 
And    tremble    when    she    thinks   on   the    edge    of 
England's  sword; 
And  the  kings  of  earth  in  fear  shall  shudder  when  they 
hear 
What  the  hand  of  Grod  hath  wrought  for  the  Houses 
and  the  Word.  60 

LOED  Macaulay. 


ON  THE  LORD  GENERAL  FAIRFAX  AT 
THE  SIEGE  OF  COLCHESTER. 

(1648) 

Fairfax,  whose  name  in  arms  through  Europe  rings. 
Filling  each  mouth  with  envy  or  with  praise. 
And  all  her  jealous  monarchs  with  amaze. 
And  rumours  loud  that  daunt  remotest  kings, 

Thy  firm  unshaken  virtue  ever  brings 

Victory  home,  though  new  rebellions  raise 
Their  Hydra  heads,  and  the  false  North  displays 
Her  broken  league  to  imp  their  serpent  wings. 

0  yet  a  nobler  task  awaits  thy  hand 

(For  what  can  war  but  endless  war  still  breed  ?)   10 
Till  truth  and  right  from  violence  be  freed, 

And  public  faith  cleared  from  the  shameful  brand 
Of  public  fraud.     In  vain  doth  Yalour  bleed, 
While  Avarice  and  Rapine  share  the  land. 

John  Milton. 


130  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 


AN  HORATIAN  ODE  UPON  CROMWELL'S 
RETURN  FROM  IRELAND. 

(1650) 

The  forward  youth  that  would  appear, 
Must  now  forsake  his  Muses  dear, 

Nor  in  the  shadows  sing 

His  numhei'S  languishing. 

'Tis  time  to  leave  the  books  in  dust, 
And  oil  the  unused  armour's  rust, 

Removing  from  the  wall 

The  corslet  of  the  hall. 

So  restless  Cromwell  could  not  cease 
In  the  inglorious  arts  of  peace, 

But  through  adventurous  war 

Urged  his  active  star: 

And  like  the  three-fork'd  lightning,  first 
Breaking  the  clouds  where  it  was  nurst. 

Did  thorough  liis  own  Side 

His  fiery  way  divide : 

For  'tis  all  one  to  courage  high. 
The  emulous,  or  enemy; 

And  with  such,  to  enclose 

Is  more  than  to  oppose; 

Then  burning  through  the  air  he  went 
And  palaces  and  temples  rent; 
And  Caesar's  head  at  last 
Did  through  his  laurels  blast. 


AN  ODE  UPON  Cromwell's  return  from  Ireland  131 

'Tis  madness  to  resist  or  blame 
The  face  of  angry  heaven's  flame; 

And  if  we  would  speak  true, 

Much  to  the  Man  is  due 

Who,  from  his  private  gardens,  where 

He  lived  reserved  and  austere,  30 

(As  if  his  highest  plot 

To  plant  the  bergamot,) 

Could  by  industrious  valour  climb 
To  ruin  the  great  work  of  time 

And  cast  the  Kingdoms  old 

Into  another  mould; 

Though  Justice  against  Fate  complain. 
And  plead  the  ancient  Rights  in  vain^ 

But  those  do  hold  or  break 

As  men  are  strong  or  weak;  40 

Nature,  that  hateth  emptiness, 
Allows  of  penetration  less, 

And  therefore  must  make  room 

Where  greater  spirits  come. 

What  field  of  all  the  civil  war 
Where  his  were  not  the  deepest  scar  ? 

And  Hampton  shows  what  part 

He  had  of  wiser  art. 

Where,  twining  subtle  fears  with  hope, 

He  wove  a  net  of  such  a  scope  50 

That  Charles  himself  might  chase 

To  Carisbrook's  narrow  case, 

9—2 


132  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

That  thence  the  Eoyal  actor  borne 
The  tragic  scaffold  might  adorn: 

While  round  the  armed  bands 

Did  clap  their  bloody  hands. 

He  nothing  common  did  or  mean 
Upon  that  memorable  scene, 

But  with  liis  keener  eye 

The  axe's  edge  did  try;  60 

Nor  call'd  the  Gods,  with  vulgar  spite, 
To  vindicate  his  helpless  right; 

But  bow'd  his  comely  head 

Down,  as  upon  a  bed. 

— This  was  that  memorable  hour 
Which  first  assured  the  forced  power: 

So  when  they  did  design 

The  Capitol's  first  line, 

A  Bleeding  Head,  where  they  begun, 

Did  fright  the  architects  to  run;  70 

And  yet  in  that  the  State 

Foresaw  its  happy  fate! 

And  now  the  Irish  are  ashamed 
To  see  themselves  in  one  year  tamed: 
So  much  one  man  can  do 
That  does  both  act  and  know. 

They  can  affirm  his  praises  best, 
And  have,  though  overcome,  confest 

How  good  he  is,  how  just 

And  fit  for  highest  trust.  80 


AN  ODE  UPON  Cromwell's  return  from  Ireland  133 

Nor  yet  grown  stiff er  witli  commaiid, 
But  still  in  the  Republic's  hand — 

How  fit  he  is  to  sway 

That  can  so  well  obey  I 

He  to  the  Common's  feet  presents 
A  Kingdom  for  his  first  year's  rents, 

And  (what  he  may)  forbears 

His  fame,  to  make  it  theirs: 

And  has  his  sword  and  spoils  ungirt 

To  lay  them  at  the  Public's  skirt.  90 

So  when  the  falcon  high 

Falls  heavy  from  the  sky. 

She,  having  kill'd,  no  more  doth  search 
But  on  the  next  green  bough  to  perch, 

Where,  when  he  first  does  lure, 

The  falconer  has  her  sure. 

— ^What  may  not  then  our  Isle  presume 
While  Victory  his  crest  does  plume  ? 

What  may  not  others  fear 

If  thus  he  crowns  each  year?  100 

As  Caesar  he,  ere  long,  to  Gaul, 
To  Italy  an  Hannibal, 

And  to  all  States  not  free 

Shall  climacteric  be. 

The  Pict  no  shelter  now  shall  find 

Within  his  parti-colour'd  mind. 
But  from  this  valour  sad 
Shrink  underneath  the  plaid — 


134  BALLADS    AND   POEMS 

Happy,  if  in  the  tufted  brake 

The  English  hunter  him  mistake  no 

Nor  lay  his  hounds  in  near 

The  Caledonian  deer. 

But  thou,  the  War's  and  Fortune's  son, 
March  indefatigably  on; 

And  for  the  last  effect 

Still  keep  the  sword  erect: 

Besides  the  force  it  has  to  fi-ight 
The  spirits  of  the  shady  night, 

The  same  arts  that  did  gain 

A  power,  must  it  maintain.  120 

Andrew  Marvell. 

TO  CROMWELL. 
(1652) 

Cromwell,  our  chief  of  men,  who  through  a  cloud 
Not  of  war  only,  but  detractions  rude, 
Guided  by  faith  and  matchless  fortitude, 
To  peace  and  truth  thy  glorious  way  hast  ploughed. 

And  on  the  neck  of  Crowned  Fortune  proud 
Hast  reared  God's  trophies,  and  his  work  pursued ; 
While  Darwen  stream,  with  blood  of  Scots  imbrued, 
And  Dunbar  field,  resounds  thy  praises  loud, 

And  Worcester's  laureate  wreath:  yet  much  remains 
To  conquer  still;   Peace  hath  her  victories  10 

No  less  renowned  than  War:  new  foes  arise. 

Threatening  to  bind  our  souls  with  secular  chains. 
Help  us  to  save  free  conscience  from  the  paw 
Of  hirehng  wolves,  whose  Gospel  is  their  maw. 

John  Milton. 


THE   FIRE   OF   LONDON  135 

THE  FIRE  OF  LONDON 

{selected  from  ^' Annus  Mirabilis"). 
(1666) 

Swell'd  with  our  late  successes  on  the  foe, 

WTiich  France  and  Holland  wanted  power  to  cross, 

We  urge  an  unseen  fate  to  lay  us  low, 

And  feed  their  envious  eyes  with  English  loss. 

Each  element  His  dread  command  obeys, 
Who  makes  or  ruins  with  a  smile  or  frown; 

Who,  as  by  one  He  did  our  nation  raise, 
So  now  He  with  another  pulls  us  down. 

Yet,  London!   empress  of  the  northern  clime, 

By  an  high  fate  thou  greatly  didst  expire;  lo 

Great  as  the  world's,  which,  at  the  death  of  Time, 
Must  fall,  and  rise  a  nobler  frame  by  fire. 

As  when  some  dire  usurper  heaven  provides. 
To  scourge  his  country  with  a  lawless  sway; 

His  birth,  perhaps,  some  petty  village  hides. 
And  sets  his  cradle  out  of  fortune's  way: 

Till  fully  ripe  his  swelling  fate  breaks  out, 
And  hurries  him  to  mighty  mischiefs  on; 

His  prince,  surprised  at  first,  no  ill  could  doubt, 
And  Avants  the  power  to  meet  it  when  'tis  known :  20 

Such  was  the  rise  of  this  prodigious  Fire, 

^¥liich  in  mean  buildings  first  obscurely  bred. 

From  thence  did  soon  to  open  streets  aspire, 
And  straight  to  palaces  and  temples  spread. 


136  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

The  diligence  of  trades  and  noiseful  gain, 
And  luxury,  more  late,  asleep  was  laid; 

All  was  the  Night's,  and  in  her  silent  reign 
No  sound  the  rest  of  Nature  did  invade. 

In  this  deep  quiet,  from  what  source  unknown, 
Those  seeds  of  fire  their  fatal  birth  disclose;         30 

And  first  few  scattering  sparks  about  were  blown 
Big  with  the  flames  that  to  our  ruin  rose. 

Then  in  some  close-pent  room  it  crept  along 
And,  smouldering  as  it  went,  in  silence  fed; 

Till  the  infant  monster,  with  devouring  strong, 
Walk'd  boldly  upright  with  exalted  head. 

Now  like  some  rich  and  mighty  murderer. 

Too  great  for  prison,  which  he  breaks  with  gold, 

Who  fresher  for  new  mischiefs  doth  appear 

And  dares  the  world  to  tax  him  with  the  old,     40 

So  scapes  the  insulting  fire  his  narrow  jail 
And  makes  small  outlets  into  open  air; 

There  the  fierce  winds  his  tender  force  assail 
And  beat  him  downward  to  his  first  repair. 

And  now,  no  longer  letted  of  his  prey. 
He  leaps  up  at  it  with  enraged  desire, 

O'erlooks  the  neighbours  with  a  wide  survey, 
And  nods  at  every  house  his  threatening  fire. 

The  ghosts  of  traitors  from  the  Bridge  descend. 
With  bold  fanatic  spectres  to  rejoice ;  50 

About  the  fire  into  a  dance  they  bend, 

And  sing  their  Sabbath  notes  with  feeble  voice. 


THE    FIRE   OF   LONDON  137 

Our  guardian  angel  saw  them  where  they  sate, 
Above  the  palace  of  our  slumbering  king; 

He  sigh'd,  abandoning  his  charge  to  Fate, 

And  drooping,  oft  looked  back  upon  the  wing. 

At  length  the  crackling  noise  and  dreadful  blaze 
Call'd  up  some  waking  lover  to  the  sight; 

And  long  it  was  ere  he  the  rest  could  raise 
Whose  heavy  eyelids  yet  were  full  of  night.        60 

The  next  to  danger,  hot  pursued  by  fate, 
Half -clothed,  half -naked,  hastily  retire; 

And  frighted  mothers  strike  their  breasts  too  late, 
For  helpless  infants  left  amidst  the  fire. 

Their  cries  soon  waken  all  the  dwellers  near; 

Now  murmuring  noises  rise  in  every  street; 
The  more  remote  run  stumbling  with  their  fear. 

And  in  the  dark  men  jostle  as  they  meet. 

Now  streets  grow  throng'd,  and  busy  as  by  day: 
Some  run  for  buckets  to  the  halloAved  quire;        70 

Some  cut  the  pipes,  and  some  the  engines  play, 
And  some,  more  bold,  mount  ladders  to  the  fire. 

Old  father  Thames  raised  up  his  reverend  head, 
But  fear'd  the  fate  of  Simois  would  return; 

Deep  in  his  ooze  he  sought  his  sedgy  bed, 
And  shrunk  his  waters  back  into  his  urn. 

The  fire,  meantime,  walks  in  a  broader  gross; 

To  either  hand  his  wings  he  opens  wide; 
He  wades  the  streets,  and  straight  he  reaches  'cross. 

And  plays  his  longing  flames  on  th'  other  side.        80 


138  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

At  first  they  warm,  then  scorch,  and  then  they  take ; 

Now  with  long  necks  from  side  to  side  they  feed; 
At  length,  grown  strong,  their  mother-fire  forsake, 

And  a  new  colony  of  flames  succeed. 

Now  day  appears,  and  with  the  day  the  king, 
Whose  early  care  had  robb'd  him  of  his  rest; 

Far  off  the  cracks  of  falling  houses  ring, 

And  shrieks  of  subjects  pierce  his  tender  breast. 

Himself  directs  what  first  is  to  be  done. 

And  orders  all  the  succours  which  they  bring;    90 

The  helpful  and  the  good  about  him  run, 
And  form  an  army  worthy  such  a  king. 

No  help  avails;   for,  Hydra-like,  the  Fire 
Lifts  up  his  hundred  heads  to  aim  his  way; 

And  scarce  the  wealthy  can  one  half  retire. 
Before  he  rushes  in  to  share  the  prey. 

At  length  the  Almighty  cast  a  pitying  eye, 
And  mercy  softly  touch'd  his  melting  breast; 

He  saw  the  town's  one  half  in  rubbish  lie. 

And  eager  flames  drive  on  to  storm  the  rest.      100 

The  vanquish'd  fires  withdraw  from  every  place. 
Or,  full  with  feeding,  sink  into  a  sleep: 

Each  household  genius  shows  again  his  face, 
And  from  the  hearths  the  little  Lares  creep. 

Methinks  already  from  this  chemic  flame, 
I  see  a  city  of  more  precious  mould; 

Rich  as  the  town  which  gives  the  Indies  name, 
AVith  silver  paved,  and  all  divine  with  gold. 


THE   FIRE  OF   LONDON  139 

Already  labouring  with  a  mighty  fate, 

She  shakes  the  rubbish  from  her  mountain  brow,  i  lo 
And  seems  to  have  renew'd  her  charter's  date. 

Which  heaven  will  to  the  death  of  Time  allow. 

More  great  than  human  now,  and  more  august, 
Now  deified  she  from  her  fires  does  rise; 

Her  widening  streets  on  new  foundations  trust, 
And  opening  into  larger  parts  she  flies. 

Before,  she  like  some  shepherdess  did  show, 
Who  sat  to  bathe  her  by  a  river's  side; 

Not  answering  to  her  fame,  but  rude  and  low. 
Nor  taught  the  beauteous  arts  of  modern  pride.  120 

Now,  like  a  Maiden  Queen,  she  will  behold, 
From  her  high  turrets,  hourly  suitors  come; 

The  East  with  incense,  and  the  West  with  gold. 
Will  stand  like  suppliants  to  receive  her  doom. 

The  silver  Thames,  her  own  domestic  flood. 
Shall  bear  her  vessels  like  a  sweeping  train; 

And  often  wind,  as  of  his  mistress  proud. 
With  longing  eyes  to  meet  her  face  again. 

John  Dryden. 


140  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

THE  SONG  OF  THE  WESTERN  MEN. 
(1688) 

A  good  sword  and  a  trusty  hand, 

A  merry  heart  and  true ! 
King  James's  men  shall  understand 

What  Cornishmen  can  do. 

And  have  they  fixed  the  where  and  when 

And  shall  Trelawney  die? 
Then  twenty  thousand  Cornish  men 

Will  know  the  reason  why! 

Out  spake  the  captain,  brave  and  bold, — 

A  merry  wight  was  he;  lo 

Though  London  Tower  were  Michael's  hold, 
We'll  set  Trelawney  free. 

We'll  cross  the  Tamar,  land  to  land, 

The  Severn  is  no  stay; 
And  side  by  side,  and  hand  in  hand, 

And  who  shall  bid  us  nay? 

And  when  we  come  to  London  wall, 

A  pleasant  sight  to  view; — 
Come  forth,  come  forth,  ye  cowards,  all; 

Here  are  better  men  than  you!  20 

Trelawney  he's  in  keep  in  hold, 

Trelawney  he  may  die, 
But  twenty  thousand  Cornish  bold 

Will  know  the  reason  why! 

R.  S.  Hawker. 


THE   BURIAL  MARCH   OF   DUNDEE  141 

THE  BURIAL  MARCH  OF  DUNDEE. 
(Battle  of  Killiecrankie,  1689) 

On  the  Tieights  of  Killiecrankie 

Yester-morn  our  army  lay; 
Slowly  rose  the  mist  in  columns 

From  the  river's  broken  way; 
Hoarsely  roared  the  swollen  torrent, 

And  the  Pass  was  wrapped  in  gloom, 
When  the  clansmen  rose  together 

From  their  lair  amidst  the  broom. 
Then  we  belted  on  our  tartans. 

And  our  bonnets  down  we  drew,  lo 

And  we  felt  our  broadswords'  edges, 

And  we  proved  them  to  be  true; 
And  we  prayed  the  prayer  of  soldiers, 

And  we  cried  the  gathering-cry, 
And  we  clasped  the  hands  of  kinsmen 

And  we  swore  to  do  or  die ! 
Then  our  leader  rode  before  us 

On  his  war-horse  black  as  night — 
Well  the  Cameronian  rebels 

Knew  that  charger  in  the  fight!  20 

And  a  cry  of  exultation 

From  the  bearded  warriors  rose; 
For  we  loved  the  house  of  Claver'se, 

And  we  thought  of  good  Montrose. 
But  he  raised  his  hand  for  silence — 

"Soldiers!    I  have  sworn  a  vow; 
Ere  the  evening-star  shall  ghsten 

On  Schehalhon's  lofty  brow. 


142  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

Either  we  shall  rest  in  triumph, 

Or  another  of  the  (Jriumes  30 

Shall  have  died  in  battle-harness 

For  his  country  and  King  James! 
Think  upon  the  Royal  Martyr — 

Think  of  what  his  race  endure — 
Think  on  him  whom  butchers  murder'd 

On  the  field  of  Magas  Muir: — 
By  his  sacred  blood  I  charge  ye — 

By  the  ruin'd  hearth  and  shrine- 
By  the  blighted  hopes  of  Scotland — 

By  your  injuries  and  mine —  40 

Strike  this  day  as  if  the  anvil 

Lay  beneath  your  blows  the  while, 
Be  they  Covenanting  traitors, 

Or  the  brood  of  false  Argyle ! 
Strike !  and  drive  the  trembling  rebels 

Backwards  o'er  the  stormy  Forth; 
Let  them  tell  their  pale  Convention 

How  they  fared  within  the  North. 
Let  them  tell  that  Highland  honour 

Is  not  to  be  bought  nor  sold —  50 

That  we  scorn  their  Prince's  anger, 

As  we  loathe  his  foreign  gold. 
Strike!  and  when  the  fight  is  over, 

If  ye  look  in  vain  for  me, 
WTiere  the  dead  are  lying  thickest, 

Search  for  him  that  was  Dundee!" 

Loudly  then  the  hills  re-echoed 

With  our  answer  to  his  call, 
But  a  deeper  echo  sounded 

In  the  bosoms  of  us  all.  60 


THE   BURIAL   MARCH   OF   DUNDEE  148 

For  the  lands  of  wide  Breadalbane 

Not  a  man  who  heard  him  speak 
Would  that  day  have  left  the  battle. 

Burning  eye  and  flushing  cheek 
Told  the  clansmen's  fierce  emotion, 

And  they  harder  drew  their  breath; 
For  their  souls  were  strong  within  them, 

Stronger  than  the  grasp  of  death. 
Soon  we  heard  a  challenge-trumpet 

Sounding  in  the  Pass  below,  7° 

And  the  distant  tramp  of  horses, 

And  the  voices  of  the  foe : 
Down  we  crouched  amid  the  bracken. 

Till  the  Lowland  ranks  drew  near. 
Panting  like  the  hounds  in  summer 

When  they  scent  the  stately  deer. 
From  the  dark  defile  emerging, 

Next  we  saw  the  squadrons  come, 
Leslie's  foot  and  Leven's  troopers 

Marching  to  the  tuck  of  drum;  80 

Through  the  scattered  wood  of  birches, 

O'er  the  broken  ground  and  heath, 
Wound  the  long  battalion  slowly, 

Till  they  gained  the  field  beneath; 
Then  we  bounded  from  oar  covert! 

Judge  how  looked  the  Saxons  then, 
When  they  saw  the  rugged  mountain 

Start  to  life  with  armed  men ! 
Like  a  tempest  down  the  ridges 

Swept  the  hurricane  of  steel —  90 

Rose  the  slogan  of  Macdonald, 

Flashed  the  broadsword  of  Locheill! 
Vainly  sped  the  withering  volley 

'Mongst  the  foremost  of  our  band; 


144<  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

On  we  poured,  until  we  met  them — 

Foot  to  foot,  and  hand  to  hand ! 
Horse  and  man  went  down  like  driftwood 

Wlien  the  floods  are  black  at  Yule, 
And  their  carcasses  are  whirling 

In  the  Garry's  deepest  pool. 
Horse  and  man  went  down  before  us; 

Living  foe  there  tarried  none 
On  the  field  of  Killiecrankie, 

When  that  stubborn  fight  was  done! 


And  the  evening-star  was  shining 

On  Schehallion's  distant  head. 
When  we  wiped  our  bloody  broadswords, 

And  returned  to  count  the  dead. 
There  we  found  him,  gashed  and  gory 

Stretch'd  upon  the  cumbered  plain,  no 

As  he  told  us  where  to  seek  him — 

In  the  thickest  of  the  slain. 
And  a  smile  was  on  his  visage, 

For  within  his  dying  ear 
Pealed  the  joyful  note  of  triumph. 

And  the  clansmen's  clamorous  cheer: 
So,  amidst  the  battle's  thunder. 

Shot,  and  steel,  and  scorching  flame, 
In  the  glory  of  his  manhood 

Passed  the  spirit  of  the  Grseme!  120 


Open  wide  the  vaults  of  Athol, 
Where  the  bones  of  heroes  rest — 

Open  wide  the  hallowed  portals 
To  receive  another  guest! 


THE   BURIAL   MARCH   OF   DUNDEE  145 

Last  of  Scots  and  last  of  freemen — ■ 

Last  of  all  that  dauntless  race 
Who  would  rather  die  unsullied 

Than  outlive  the  land's  disgrace! 
Oh,  thou  lion-hearted  warrior! 

Reck  not  of  the  after-time:  13° 

Honour  may  be  deemed  dishonour, 

Loyalty  be  called  a  crime. 
Sleep  in  peace  with  kindred  ashes 

Of  the  noble  and  the  true, 
Hands  that  never  failed  their  country, 

Hearts  that  never  baseness  knew. 
Sleep! — and  till  the  latest  trumpet 

Wakes  the  dead  from  earth  and  sea, 
Scotland  shall  not  boast  a  braver 

Chieftain  than  our  own  Dundee!  140 

W.  E.  Aytoun. 

ADMIRAL  BBNBOW. 
(1702) 

0,  we  sail'd  to  Virginia,  and  thence  to  Fayal, 
Where  we  water'd  our  shipping,  and  then  we  weigh'd 

all; 
Full  in  view  on  the  seas,  boys,  seven  sails  we  did 

espy; 
0,  we  manned  our  capstan,  and  weigh'd  speedily. 

The  first  we  came  up  with  was  a  brigantine  sloop, 
And   we   ask'd  if    the    others   were    as   big   as   they 

look'd; 
But  turning  to  windward  as  near  as  we  could  lie> 
We  found  there  were  ten  men-of-war  cruising  by. 

8.  10 


146  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

0,  we  drew  up  our  squadron  in  very  nice  line, 
And    boldly   we    fought    them    for    full    four   hours' 
time ;  lo 

But  the  day  being  spent,  boys,  and  night  coming  on, 
We  let  them  alone  till  the  very  next  morn. 

The  very  next  morning  the  engagement  pi'oved  hot. 
And  brave  Admiral  Benbow  received  a  chain-shot; 
And  when  he  was  wounded,  to  his  men  he  did  say, 
"  Take  me  up  in  your  arms,  boys,  and  carry  me  away." 

0,  the  guns  they  did  rattle,  and  the  bullets  did  fly, 

But  Admiral  Benbow  for  help  would  not  cry; 

"  Take  me  down  to  the  cock-pit,  there  is  ease  for  my 

smarts, 
If  my  merry  men   see  me,  it  will   sure  break  their 

hearts."  20 

The  very  next  morning,  by  break  of  the  day, 
They  hoisted  their  topsails,  and  so  bore  away; 
We  bore   to    Port    Royal,  where   the    people  flocked 

much 
To  see  Admiral  Benbow  carried  to  Kingston  Church. 

CoDie,  all  you  brave  fellows,  wherever  you've  been. 
Let  us  drink  to  the  health  of  our  king  and  our  queen, 
And  another  good  health  to  the  girls  that  we  know, 
And    a    third    in    remembrance    of    brave    Admiral 
Benbow. 

Anon. 


AFTER  BLENHEIM  147 

APTER  BLENHEIM. 
(1704) 

It  was  a  summer  evening, 

Old  Kaspar's  work  was  done, 
And  he  before  his  cottage  door 

Was  sitting  in  the  sun, 
And  by  him  sported  on  the  green 
His  little  grandchild  Wilhelmine. 

She  saw  her  brother  Peterkin 

Roll  something  large  and  round, 
Which  he  beside  the  rivulet 

In  playing  there  had  found;  lo 

He  came  to  ask  what  he  had  found 
That  was  so  large  and  smooth  and  round. 

Old  Kaspar  took  it  from  the  boy 

Who  stood  expectant  by; 
And  then  the  old  man  shook  his  head, 

And  with  a  natural  sigh — 
"'Tis  some  poor  felloVs  skull,"  said  he, 
"Who  fell  in  the  great  victory." 

"I  find  them  in  the  garden. 

For  there's  many  here  about;  20 

And  often  when  I  go  to  plough 

The  ploughshare  turns  them  out. 
For  many  a  thousand  men,"  said  he, 
"Wei^e  slain  in  that  great  victory." 

10—2 


148  BALLADS  AND   POEMS 

"Now  tell  us  what  'twas  all  about," 

Young  Peterkin  he  cries: 
And  little  Wilhelmine  looks  up 

With  wonder-waiting  eyes; 
"  Now  tell  us  all  about  the  war, 
And  what  they  fought  each  other  for."  30 

"It  was  the  English,"  Kaspar  cried, 

"Who  put  the  French  to  rout; 
But  what  they  fought  each  other  for 

I  could  not  well  make  out. 
But  every  body  said,"  quoth  he, 
"That  'twas  a  famous  victory. 

"My  father  lived  at  Blenheim  then. 

Yon  little  stream  hard  by; 
They  burnt  his  dwelling  to  the  ground, 

And  he  was  forced  to  fly:  4° 

So  with  his  wife  and  child  he  fled, 
Nor  had  he  where  to  rest  his  head. 

"With  fire  and  sword  the  country  round 

Was  wasted  far  and  wide, 
And  many  a  childing  mother  then 

And  new-born  baby  died: 
But  things  like  that,  you  know,  must  be 
At  every  famous  victory. 

"They  say  it  was  a  shocking  sight 

After  the  field  was  won;  5° 

For  many  thousand  bodies  here 
Lay  rotting  in  the  sun; 

But  things  like  that,  you  know,  must  be 

After  a  famous  victory. 


AFTER   BLENHEIM  149 

"Great  praise  the  Duke  of  Marlbro'  won, 

And  our  good  Prince  Eugene." 
"Why,  'twas  a  very  wicked  thing  1" 

Said  Httle  Wilhelmine. 
"Nay,  nay,  my  little  girl,"  quoth  he, 
"  It  was  a  famous  victory.  60 

"And  every  body  praised  the  Duke 

Who  this  great  fight  did  win." 
"But  what  good  came  of  it  at  last?" 

Quoth  little  Peterkin. 
"Why  that  I  cannot  tell,"  said  he, 
"But  'twas  a  famous  victory." 

Robert  Southet. 


THE  VICAR  OF  BRAY, 
(c.  1720) 

In  good  King  Charles's  golden  days. 

When  loyalty  no  harm  meant, 
A  zealous  High-Churchman  was  I, 

And  so  I  got  preferment. 
To  teach  my  flock  I  never  miss'd 

Kings  were  by  God  appointed; 
And  lost  are  those  that  dare  resist 

Or  touch  the  Lord's  anointed. 

And  this  is  law  that  I'll  maintain 
Until  my  dying  day,  sir: 

That  whatsoever  king  shall  reign, 
I'll  be  the  Vicar  of  Bray,  sir. 


150  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

When  royal  James  posseas'd  the  crown, 

And  Popery  grew  in  fashion, 
The  penal  laws  I  hooted  down, 

And  read  the  Declaration. 
The  Church  of  Rome  I  found  would  fit 

Full  well  my  constitution; 
And  I  had  been  a  Jesuit, 

But  for  the  Revolution. 

And  this  is  law,  etc. 


When  William  was  our  King  declared 

To  ease  the  nation's  grievance, 
With  this  new  wind  about  I  steer'd 

And  swore  to  him  allegiance. 
Old  principles  I  did  revoke, 

Set  conscience  at  a  distance; 
Passive  obedience  was  a  joke, 

A  jest  was  non-resistance. 

And  this  is  law,  etc. 


Wlien  royal  Anne  became  our  Queen, 

The  Church  of  England's  glory,  3° 

Another  face  of  things  was  seen, 

And  I  became  a  Tory, 
Occasional  conforniists  base, 

I  blamed  their  moderation; 
And  thought  the  Church  in  danger  was 

By  such  prevarication. 

And  this  is  law,  etc. 


THE   VICAR   OF   BRAY  151 

When  George  in  pudding-time  came  o'er, 

And  moderate  men  look'd  big,  sir, 
My  principles  I  changed  once  more. 

And  so  became  a  Whig,  sir.  40 

And  thus  preferment  I  procured 

From  our  new  faith's  defender; 
And  almost  every  day  abjured 

The  Pope  and  the  Pretender, 

And  this  is  law,  etc. 


Th'  illustrious  house  of  Hanover 

And  Protestant  succession, 
To  them  I  do  allegiance  swear — 

While  they  can  keep  possession; 
For  in  my  faith  and  loyalty 

I  never  more  will  falter,  5° 

And  George  my  lawful  king  shall  be — 

Until  the  times  do  alter. 

And  this  is  law,  etc. 

Anon. 


152  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

A  BALLAD  OF  THE  BOSTON  TBA-PAETY. 
(1773) 

No !  never  such  a  draught  was  poured 

Since  Hebe  served  with  nectar 
The  bright  Olympians  and  their  Lord, 

Her  over-kind  protector, — 
Since  Father  Noah  squeezed  the  grape, 

And  took  to  such  behaving 
As  would  have  shamed  our  grandsire  ape 

Before  the  days  of  shaving; 
No !   ne'er  was  mingled  such  a  draught 

In  palace,  hall,  or  arbour. 
As  freemen  brewed  and  tyrants  quaffed 

That  night  in  Boston  Harbour! 

It  kept  King  George  so  long  awake 

His  brain  at  last  got  addled, 
It  made  the  nerves  of  Britain  shake, 

With  sevenscore  millions  saddled : 
Before  that  bitter  cup  was  drained, 

Amid  the  roar  of  cannon, 
The  Western  war-cloud's  crimson  stained 

The  Thames,  the  Clyde,  the  Shannon; 
Full  many  a  six-foot  grenadier 

The  flattened  grass  had  measured. 
And  many  a  mother  many  a  year 

Her  tearful  memories  treasured; 
Fast  spread  the  tempest's  darkening  pall. 

The  mighty  realms  were  troubled. 
The  storm  broke  loose — but  first  of  all 

The  Boston  tea-pot  bubbled  1 


A   BALLAD   OF   THE    BOSTON   TEA-PARTY  153 

An  evening  party, — only  that, 

No  formal  invitation,  3° 

No  gold-laced  coat,  no  stiff  cravat, 

No  feast  in  contemplation. 
No  silk-robed  dames,  no  fiddling  band, 

No  flowers,  no  songs,  no  dancing — ■ 
A  tribe  of  Red  men,  axe  in  hand, 

Behold  the  guests  advancing! 

How  fast  the  stragglers  join  the  throng, 

From  stall  and  workshop  gathered! 
The  lively  barber  skips  along 

And  leaves  a  chin  half -lathered ;  4° 

The  smith  has  flung  his  hammer  down, 

The  horse-shoe  still  is  glowing ; 
The  truant  tapster  at  the  Crown 

Has  left  a  beer-cask  flowing; 
The  cooper's  boys  have  dropped  the  adze, 

And  trot  behind  their  master; 
Up  run  the  tarry  ship-yard  lads, 

The  crowd  is  hurrying  faster. — 
Out  from  the  mill-pond's  purlieus  gush 

The  streams  of  white-faced  millers,  5° 

And  down  their  slippery  alleys  rush 

The  lusty  young  Fort-Hillers ; 
The  rope-walk  lends  its  prentice  crew, — 

The  tories  seize  the  omen; 
"Ay,  boys,  you'll  soon  have  work  to  do, 

For  England's  rebel  foemen, 
King  Hancock,  Adams,  and  their  gang, 

That  fire  the  mob  with  treason, — 
When  these  we  shoot  and  those  we  hang, 

The  town  will  come  to  reason."  6o 


154  BALLADS   AND  POEMS 

On,  on  to  Avhere  the  tea-ships  ride! 

And  now  their  ranks  are  forming, — 
A  rush,  and  up  the  Dartmouth's  side 

The  Mohawk  band  is  swarming ! 
See  the  fierce  natives!     What  a  ghmpse 

Of  paint,  and  fur,  and  feather. 
As  all  at  once  the  full-grown  imps 

Light  on  the  deck  together! 
A  scarf  the  pig-tail's  secret  keeps, 

A  blanket  hides  the  breeches,  70 

And  out  the  cursed  cargo  leaps 

And  overboard  it  pitches! 

A  woman,  at  the  evening  board 

So  gracious,  sweet,  and  purring, 
So  happy  while  the  tea  is  poured, 

So  blest  while  spoons  are  stirring, — 
What  martyr  can  compare  with  thee. 

The  mother,  wife,  or  daughter. 
That  night,  instead  of  best  Bohea, 

Condemned  to  milk  and  water!  80 

Ah,  little  dreams  the  quiet  dame 

Who  plies  with  rock  and  spindle 
The  patient  flax,  how  great  a  flame 

Yon  little  spark  shall  kindle! 
The  lurid  morning  shall  reveal 

A  fire  no  king  can  smother. 
Where  British  flint  and  Boston  steel 

Have  dashed  against  each  other! 
Old  charters  shrivel  in  its  track, 

His  worship's  bench  has  crumbled,  90 

It  climbs  and  clasps  the  union-jack. 

Its  blazoned  pomp  is  humbled; 


A   BALLAD   OF   THE    BOSTON   TEA-PARTY  155 

The  flags  go  down  on  land  and  sea, 

Like  corn  before  the  reapers; 
So  burned  the  fire  that  brewed  the  tea, 

That  Boston  served  her  keepers  I 

The  waves  that  wrought  a  century's  wreck 

Have  rolled  o'er  Wliig  and  Tory; 
The  Mohawks  on  the  Dartmouth's  deck 

Still  live  in  song  and  story;  loo 

The  waters  in  the  rebel  bay 

Have  kept  their  tea-leaf  savour; 
Our  old  North-enders  in  their  spray 

Still  taste  a  Hyson  flavour; 
And  freedom's  tea-cup  still  o'erflows 

With  ever-fresh  Hbations, 
To  cheat  of  slumber  all  her  foes 

And  cheer  the  wakening  nations! 

0.  W.  Holmes. 


THE  LOSS  OF  THE  ROYAL  GEORGE. 
(1782) 

Toll  for  the  brave, 

The  brave  that  are  no  more! 
All  sunk  beneath  the  wave 

Fast  by  their  native  shore  I 

Eight  hundred  of  the  brave. 
Whose  courage  well  was  tried, 

Had  made  the  vessel  heel, 
And  laid  her  on  her  side. 


156  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

A  land  breeze  shook  the  shrouds, 

And  she  was  overset;  lo 

Down  went  the  Royal  George, 
With  all  her  crew  complete ! 

Toll  for  the  brave ! 

Brave  Kempenfelt  is  gone, 
His  last  sea-fight  is  fought, 

His  work  of  glory  done. 

It  was  not  in  the  battle; 

No  tempest  gave  the  shock; 
She  sprang  no  fatal  leak; 

She  ran  upon  no  rock.  20 

His  sword  was  in  its  sheath, 

His  fingers  held  the  pen, 
When  Kempenfelt  went  down 

With  twice  four  hundred  men. 

Weigh  the  vessel  up, 

Once  dreaded  by  our  foes! 
And  mingle  with  our  cup 

The  tears  that  England  owes. 

Her  timbers  yet  are  sound. 

And  she  may  float  again,  30 

Full  charged  with  England's  thunder. 

And  plough  the  distant  main. 

But  Kempenfelt  is  gone. 

His  victories  are  o'er; 
And  he  and  his  eight  hundred 

Shall  plough  the  wave  no  more. 

William  Cowper. 


THE   BATTLE  OF   THE   BALTIC  157 

THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BALTIC. 
(1801) 

Of  Nelson  and  tlie  North 

Sing  the  glorious  day's  renown, 

When  to  battle  fierce  came  forth 

All  the  might  of  Denmark's  crown, 

And  her  arms  along  the  deep  proudly  shone, 

By  each  gun  the  lighted  brand, 

In  a  bold  determined  hand, 

And  the  Prince  of  all  the  land 

Led  them  on. 

Like  leviathans  afloat  lo 

Lay  their  bulwarks  on  the  brine; 

While  the  sign  of  battle  flew 

On  the  lofty  British  line : 

It  was  ten  of  April  morn  by  the  chime : 

As  they  drifted  on  their  path 

There  was  silence  deep  as  death; 

And  the  boldest  held  his  breath 

For  a  time. 

But  the  might  of  England  flushed 

To  anticipate  the  scene;  20 

And  her  van  the  fleeter  rushed 

O'er  the  deadly  space  between. 

"  Hearts  of  oak ! "  our  captains  cried,  when  each  gun 

From  its  adamantine  lips 

Spread  a  death-shade  round  the  ships, 

Like  the  hurricane  eclipse 

Of  the  sun. 


158  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

Again  !  again  1   again ! 

And  the  liavoc  did  not  slack, 

Till  a  feeble  cheer  the  Dane  3° 

To  our  cheering  sent  us  backj — 

Their  shots  along  the  deep  slowly  boom: — 

Then  ceased — and  all  is  wail, 

As  they  strike  the  shattered  sail; 

Or  in  conflagration  pale 

Light  the  gloom. 

Out  spoke  the  victor  then 

As  he  hailed  them  o'er  the  wave, 

"Ye  are  brothers  1   ye  are  men  I 

And  we  conquer  but  to  save :  4° 

So  peace  instead  of  death  let  us  bring; 

But  yield,  proud  foe,  thy  fleet 

With  the  crews,  at  England's  feet, 

And  make  submission  meet 

To  our  King." 

Then  Denmark  blessed  our  chief 

That  he  gave  her  wounds  repose; 

And  the  sounds  of  joy  and  grief 

From  her  people  wildly  rose. 

As  death  withdrew  his  shades  from  the  day:  5° 

While  the  sun  looked  smiling  bright 

O'er  a  wide  and  woeful  sight, 

Where  the  fires  of  funeral  light 

Died  away. 

Now  joy,  Old  England,  raise 

For  the  tidings  of  thy  might, 

By  the  festal  cities'  blaze, 

Whilst  the  wine-cup  sliines  in  light; 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BALTIC         159 

And  yet  amidst  that  joy  and  uproar, 

Let  us  think  of  them  that  sleep  60 

Full  many  a  fathom  deep 

By  thy  wild  and  stormy  steep, 

Elsinore  1 

Brave  hearts!   to  Britain's  pride 

Once  so  faithful  and  so  true, 

On  the  deck  of  fame  that  died 

With  the  gallant  good  Riou; 

Soft  sigh  the  mnds  of  Heaven  o'er  their  grave! 

Wliile  the  billow  mournful  rolls 

And  the  mermaid's  song  condoles,  70 

Singing  glory  to  the  souls 

Of  the  brave! 

Thomas  Campbell. 


CHARACTER  OF  THE  HAPPY  WARRIOR. 

(Nelson  died  21  October,  1805) 

Who  is  the  happy  Warrior?     Who  is  he 
Whom  every  man  in  arms  should  wish  to  be? 
It  is  the  generous  spirit,  who,  when  brought 
Among  the  tasks  of  real  life,  hath  wrought 
Upon  the  plan  that  pleased  his  childish  thought: 
Whose  high  endeavours  are  an  inward  light 
That  make  the  path  before  him  always  bright; 
Who,  with  a  natural  instinct  to  discern 
What  knowledge  can  perform,  is  diligent  to  learn; 
Abides  by  this  resolve,  and  stops  not  there,  1 

But  makes  liis  moral  being  his  prime  care; 


160  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

Who,  doom'd  to  go  in  company  with  Pain, 

And  Fear,  and  Bloodshed,  miserable  train ! 

Turns  his  necessity  to  glorious  gain; 

In  face  of  these  doth  exercise  a  power 

Which  is  our  human  nature's  highest  dower; 

Controls  them  and  subdues,  transmutes,  bereaves 

Of  their  bad  influence,  and  their  good  receives; 

By  objects,  which  might  force  the  soul  to  abate 

Her  feeling,  render'd  more  compassionate;  20 

Is  placable — because  occasions  rise 

So  often  that  demand  such  sacrifice; 

More  skilful  in  self-knowledge,  even  more  pure, 

As  tempted  more;  more  able  to  endure 

As  more  exposed  to  suffering  and  distress; 

Thence,  also,  more  alive  to  tenderness. 

— 'Tis  he  whose  law  is  reason;  who  depends 

Upon  that  law  as  on  the  best  of  friends! 

Whence,  in  a  state  where  men  are  tempted  still 

To  evil  for  a  guard  against  worse  ill,  30 

And  what  in  quality  or  act  is  best 

Doth  seldom  on  a  right  foundation  rest. 

He  fixes  good  on  good  alone,  and  owes 

To  virtue  every  triumph  that  he  knows: 

Who,  if  he  rise  to  station  of  command, 

Rises  by  open  means;   and  there  will  stand 

On  honourable  terms,  or  else  retire. 

And  in  himself  possess  his  own  desire; 

Who  comprehends  his  trust,  and  to  the  same 

Keeps  faithful  with  a  singleness  of  aim;  40 

And  therefore  does  not  stoop,  nor  lie  in  wait 

For  wealth,  or  honours,  or  for  worldly  state: 

Whom  they  must  follow;   on  whose  head  must  fall. 

Like  showers  of  manna,  if  they  come  at  all: 


THE   HAPPY   WARRIOR  161 

Whose  powers  shed  round  him  in  the  common  strife, 

Or  mild  concerns  of  ordinary  life, 

A  constant  influence,  a  peculiar  grace; 

But  who,  if  he  be  call'd  upon  to  face 

Some  awful  moment  to  which  Heaven  has  join'd 

Great  issues,  good  or  bad  for  human  kind,  50 

Is  happy  as  a  lover;  and  attired 

With  sudden  brightness,  like  a  man  inspired: 

And  through  the  heat  of  conflict  keeps  the  law 

In  calmness  made,  and  sees  what  he  foresaw; 

Or  if  an  unexpected  call  succeed. 

Come  when  it  will,  is  equal  to  the  need : 

He  who,  though  thus  endued  as  with  a  sense 

And  faculty  for  storm  and  turbulence. 

Is  yet  a  soul  whose  master  bias  leans 

To  homefelt  pleasures  and  to  gentle  scenes:  60 

Sweet  images !   which,  wheresoe'er  he  be. 

Are  at  his  heart:  and  such  fidelity 

It  is  his  darling  passion  to  approve: 

More  brave  for  this,  that  he  hath  much  to  love: 

'Tis,  finally,  the  man,  who,  lifted  high, 

Conspicuous  object  in  a  nation's  eye, 

Or  left  unthought  of  in  obscurity, — 

Who,  with  a  toward  or  untoward  lot. 

Prosperous  or  adverse,  to  his  wish  or  not, 

Plays,  in  the  many  games  of  life,  that  one,  70 

Where  what  he  most  doth  value  must  be  won; 

Whom  neither  shape  of  danger  can  dismay. 

Nor  thought  of  tender  happiness  betray; 

Who,  not  content  that  former  worth  stand  fast, 

Looks  forward,  persevering  to  the  last. 

From  well  to  better,  daily  self-surpassed: 

8.  U 


162  BALLADS   AJSID   POEMS 

WTio,  wliether  praise  of  him  must  walk  tlie  earth 

For  ever,  and  to  noble  deeds  give  birth, 

Or  he  must  go  to  dust  without  his  fame. 

And  leave  a  dead,  unprofitable  name,  80 

Finds  comfort  in  himself  and  in  his  cause; 

And,  while  the  mortal  mist  is  gathering,  dra^vs 

His  breath  in  confidence  of  Heaven^s  applause : 

This  is  the  happy  warrior;   this  is  he 

Wliom  every  man  in  arms  should  wish  to  be. 

William  Wordswoeth. 


YE  MARINERS  OF  ENGLAJSTD. 
(1807) 

Ye  Mariners  of  England 

That  guard  our  native  seas! 
Wliose  flag  has  braved  a  thousand  years 

The  battle  and  the  breeze ! 
Your  glorious  standard  launch  again 

To  match  another  foe ; 
And  sweep  through  the  deep, 

While  the  stormy  winds  do  blow ! 
While  the  battle  rages  loud  and  long, 

And  the  stormy  winds  do  blow. 

The  spirits  of  your  fathers 

Shall  start  from  every  wave — 

For  the  deck  it  was  their  field  of  fame. 
And  Ocean  was  their  grave : 


YE   MARINERS   OF    ENGLAND  163 

Wliere  Blake  and  mighty  Nelson  fell 

Your  manly  hearts  shall  glow, 
As  ye  sweep  through  the  deep, 

While  the  stormy  winds  do  blow ! 
While  the  battle  rages  loud  and  long, 

And  the  stormy  winds  do  blow.  20 

Britannia  needs  no  bulwarks, 

No  towers  along  the  steep; 
Her  march  is  o'er  the  mountain- waves. 

Her  home  is  on  the  deep. 
With  thunders  from  her  native  oak 

She  quells  the  floods  below. 
As  they  roar  on  the  shore, 

When  the  stormy  winds  do  blow ! 
When  the  battle  rages  loud  and  long, 

And  the  stormy  winds  do  blow.  30 

The  meteor  flag  of  England 

Shall  yet  terrific  burn; 
Till  danger's  troubled  night  depart 

And  the  star  of  peace  return. 
Then,  then,  ye  ocean-warriors ! 

Our  song  and  feast  shall  flow 
To  the  fame  of  your  name, 

When  the  storm  has  ceased  to  blow ! 
When  the  fiery  fight  is  heard  no  more, 

And  the  storm  has  ceased  to  blow.  40 

Thomas  Campbell. 


11—2 


164  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

THE  BURIAL  OF   SIR  JOHN  MOORE 
AT  CORUNNA. 

(1809) 

Not  a  drum  was  heard,  not  a  funeral  note, 
As  his  corse  to  the  rampart  we  hurried; 

Not  a  soldier  discharged  his  farewell  shot 
O'er  the  grave  where  our  hero  we  buried. 

We  buried  him  darkly,  at  dead  of  night, 

The  sods  with  our  bayonets  turning; 
By  the  struggling  moonbeam's  misty  light 

And  the  lanthorn  dimly  burning. 

No  useless  coffin  enclosed  his  breast. 

Not  in  sheet  or  in  shroud  we  wound  him;  lo 

But  he  lay  like  a  warrior  taking  his  rest, 

With  his  martial  cloak  around  him. 

Few  and  short  were  the  prayers  we  said, 
And  we  spoke  not  a  word  of  sorrow; 

But  we  steadfastly  gazed  on  the  face  that  was  dead. 
And  we  bitterly  thought  of  the  morrow. 

We  thought,  as  we  hollow'd  his  narrow  bed, 
And  smoothed  down  his  lonely  pillow. 

That  the  foe  and  the  stranger  would  tread  o'er  his  head, 
And  we  far  away  on  the  billow !  20 

Lightly  they'll  talk  of  the  spirit  that's  gone, 
And  o'er  his  cold  ashes  upbraid  him, — 

But  little  he'll  reck,  if  they  let  him  sleep  on 
In  the  grave  where  a  Briton  has  laid  him. 


THE   BURIAL   OF   SIR   JOHN   MOORE   AT   CORUNNA      165 

But  half  of  our  heavy  task  was  done 

When  the  clock  struck  the  note  for  retiring : 

And  we  heard  the  distant  and  random  gun 
That  the  foe  was  sullenly  firing. 

Slowly  and  sadly  we  laid  him  do^vn, 

From  the  field  of  his  fame  fresh  and  gory;  30 

We  carved  not  a  line,  and  we  raised  not  a  stone, 

But  we  left  him  alone  with  his  glory. 

Charles  Wolfe. 

WATERLOO. 

(from  "Childe  Harold.") 
(1815) 

There  was  a  sound  of  revelry  by  night, 
And  Belgium's  Capital  had  gathered  then 
Her  Beauty  and  her  Chivalry — and  bright 
The  lamps  shone  o'er  fair  women  and  brave  men; 
A  thousand  hearts  beat  happily;   and  when 
Music  arose  with  its  voluptuous  swell, 
Soft  eyes  looked  love  to  eyes  which  spake  again, 
And  all  went  merry  as  a  marriage-bell; 
But  hush!  hark!  a  deep  sound  strikes  like  a  rising  knell ! 

Did  ye  not  hear  it? — No — 'twas  but  the  wind,      10 
Or  the  car  rattling  o'er  the  stony  street; 
On  with  the  dance!   let  joy  be  unconfined; 
No  sleep  till  morn,  when  Youth  and  Pleasure  meet 
To  chase  the  glowing  Hours  with  flying  feet — 
But  hark! — that  heavy  sound  breaks  in  once  more. 
As  if  the  clouds  its  echo  would  repeat; 
And  nearer — clearer — deadlier  than  before  ! 
Arm!   Ai-m!   it  is — it  is — the  cannon's  opening  roar! 


166  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

Within  a  windowed  niche  of  that  high  hall 
Sate  Brunswick^s  fated  chieftain;   he  did  hear      20 
That  sound  the  first  amidst  the  festival, 
And  caught  its  tone  with  Death's  prophetic  ear; 
And  when  they  smiled  because  he  deemed  it  near, 
His  heart  more  truly  knew  that  peal  too  well 
Which  stretched  his  father  on  a  bloody  bier, 
And  roused  the  vengeance  blood  alone  could  quell: 
He  rushed  into  the  field,  and,  foremost  fighting,  fell. 


Ah !   then  and  there  was  hurrying  to  and  fro — 
And  gathering  tears,  and  tremblings  of  distress, 
And  cheeks  all  pale,  which  but  an  hour  ago        30 
Blushed  at  the  praise  of  their  own  loveliness^ 
And  there  were  sudden  partings,  such  as  press 
The  life  from  out  young  hearts,  and  choking  sighs 
Which  ne'er  might  be  repeated;   who  could  guess 
If  ever  more  should  meet  those  mutual  eyes. 
Since  upon  night  so  sweet  such  awful  morn  could  rise ! 


And  there  was  mounting  in  hot  haste — the  steed, 
The  mustering  squadron,  and  the  clattering  car. 
Went  pouring  forward  with  impetuous  speed. 
And  swiftly  forming  in  the  ranks  of  war —  40 

And  the  deep  thunder  peal  on  peal  afar; 
And  near,  the  beat  of  the  alarming  drum 
Roused  up  the  soldier  ere  the  Morning  Star; 
While  thronged  the  citizens  with  terror  dumb, 
Or  whispering,  with  white  lips — "The  foe !    They  come ! 
they  come ! " 


WATERLOO  167 

And  wild  and  higli  the  "  Cameron's  Gathering  "  rose ! 
The  war-note  of  Lochiel,  which  Albjm's  hills 
Have  heard,  and  heard,  too,  have  her  Saxon  foes : — 
How  in  the  noon  of  night  that  pibroch  thrills, 
Savage  and  shrill !  But  with  the  breath  which  fills  5° 
Their  mountain-pipe,  so  fill  the  mountaineers 
With  the  fierce  native  daring  which  instils 
The  stirring  memory  of  a  thousand  years, 
And  Evan's — Donald's  fame  rings  in  each  clansman's 
earsl 

And  Ardennes  waves  above  them  her  green  leaves. 
Dewy  with  Nature's  tear-drops,  as  they  pass — 
Grrieving,  if  aught  inanimate  e'er  grieves, 
Over  the  unreturning  brave, — alas ! 
Ere  evening  to  be  trodden  like  the  grass 
Which  now  beneath  them,  but  above  shall  grow      60 
In  its  next  verdure,  when  this  fiery  mass 
Of  living  Yalour,  rolling  on  the  foe, 
And  burning  with  high  Hope,  shall  moulder  cold  and 
low. 

Last  noon  beheld  them  full  of  lusty  life ; — 
Last  eve  in  Beauty's  circle  proudly  gay; 
The  Midnight  brought  the  signal-sound  of  strife, 
The  Morn  the  marshalling  in  arms, — the  Day 
Battle's  magnificently-stern  array! 
The  thunder-clouds  close  o'er  it,  which  when  rent 
The  earth  is  covered  thick  with  other  clay,  7° 

Which  her  own  clay  shall  cover,  heaped  and  pent, 
Rider    and    horse, — friend, — foe, — in    one    red    burial 
blent ! 


168  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

Their  praise  is  hymned  by  loftier  hearts  than  mine; 
Yet  one  I  would  select  from  that  proud  throng, 
Partly  because  they  blend  me  with  his  line, 
And  partly  that  I  did  his  Sire  some  wrong, 
And  partly  that  bright  names  will  hallow  song; 
And  his  was  of  the  bravest,  and  when  showered 
The  death-bolts  deadliest  the  thinned  files  along. 
Even  where  the  thickest  of  War's  tempest  lowered,  80 
They  reached  no  nobler  breast  than  thine,  young, 
gallant  Howard ! 


There  have  been  tears  and  breaking  hearts  for  thee, 
And  mine  were  nothing,  had  I  such  to  give; 
But  when  I  stood  beneath  the  fresh  green  tree, 
Which  living  waves  where  thou  didst  cease  to  live. 
And  saw  around  me  the  wide  field  revive 
With  fruits  and  fertile  promise,  and  the  Spring 
Come  forth  her  work  of  gladness  to  contrive, 
With  all  her  reckless  birds  upon  the  wing, 
turn'd  from  all  she  brought  to  those  she  could  not 
bring.  90 

Lord  Byron. 


England's  dead  169 


ENGLAND'S  DEAD. 

Son  of  tlie  Ocean  Isle ! 

Where  sleep  your  mighty  dead? 
Show  me  what  high  and  stately  pile 

Is  reared  o'er  Glory's  bed. 

G-o,  stranger!  track  the  deep — 
Free,  free  the  white  sail  spread  1 

Wave  may  not  foam,  nor  wild  wind  sweej), 
Where  rest  not  England's  dead. 

On  Egypt's  burning  plains, 

By  the  pyramid  o'erswayed, 
With  fearful  power  the  noonday  reigns, 

And  the  palm-trees  yield  no  shade; 

But  let  the  angry  sun 

From  heaven  look  fiercely  red, 

Unfelt  by  those  whose  task  is  done! — 
There  slumber  England's  dead. 

The  hurricane  hath  might 

Along  the  Indian  shore, 
And  far  by  Ganges'  banks  at  night 

Is  heard  the  tiger's  roar; — 

But  let  the  sound  roll  on! 

It  hath  no  tone  of  dread 
For  those  that  from  their  toils  are  gone, — 

There  slumber  England's  dead. 


170  BALLADS   AND    POEMS 

Loud  rush  the  torrent-flooda 

The  Western  wilds  among, 
And  free,  in  green  Columbia's  woods, 

The  hunter's  bow  is  strung; — 

But  let  the  floods  rush  on ! 

Let  the  arroVs  flight  be  sped!  30 

Why  should  they  reck  whose  task  is  done  ? — 

There  slumber  England's  dead. 

The  mountain-storms  rise  high 

Li  the  snowy  Pyrenees, 
And  toss  the  pine-boughs  through  the  sky 

Like  rose-leaves  on  the  breeze; 

But  let  the  storm  rage  on  I 

Let  the  fresh  wreaths  be  shed! 
For  the  Roncesvalles'  field  is  won, — 

There  slumber  England's  dead.  40 

On  the  frozen  deep's  repose 

'Tis  a  dark  and  dreadful  hour, 
When  round  the  ship  the  ice-fields  close, 

And  the  northern  night-clouds  lour; — 

But  let  the  ice  drift  on ! 

Let  the  cold-blue  desert  spread  I 
Their  course  with  mast  and  flag  is  done, — 

Even  there  sleep  England's  dead. 

The  warlike  of  the  isles, 

The  men  of  field  and  wave!  50 

Are  not  the  rocks  their  funeral  piles. 

The  seas  and  shores  their  grave  ? 


ENGLAND'S   DEAD  171 

Go,  stranger !    track  the  deep — 

Free,  free  the  white  sail  spread 
Wave  may  not  foam,  nor  wild  wind  sweep 

Where  rest  not  England's  dead. 

Mrs.  HEMA2JS. 


VICTORIA'S  TEARS. 
(1837) 

"0  maiden  I   heir  of  kings! 

A  king  has  left  his  place ! 
The  majesty  of  death  has  swept 

All  other  fi'om  his  face ! 
And  thou  upon  thy  mother's  breast 

No  longer  lean  adown, 
But  take  the  glory  for  the  rest, 
And  rule  the  land  that  loves  thee  best!" 
She  heard,  and  wept — 

She  wept,  to  wear  a  crown! 

They  decked  her  courtly  halls; 

They  reined  her  hundred  steeds; 
They  shouted  at  her  palace  gate, 

"A  noble  Queen  succeeds!" 
Her  name  has  stirred  the  mountain's  sleep, 

Her  praise  has  filled  the  town! 
And  mourners  God  had  stricken  deep, 
Looked  hearkening  up,  and  did  not  weep. 
Alone  she  wept. 

Who  wept,  to  wear  a  crown! 


172  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

She  saw  no  purples  shine, 

For  tears  had  dimmed  her  eyes; 
She  only  knew  her  childhood's  flowers 

Were  happier  pageantries ! 
And  while  her  heralds  played  the  part, 

For  million  shouts  to  drown — 
"God  save  the  Queen"  from  hill  to  mart, — 
She  heard  through  all  her  beating  heart, 
And  turned  and  wept — 

She  wept,  to  wear  a  crown !  30 

Grod  save  thee,  weeping  Queen! 

Thou  shalt  be  well  beloved ! 
The  tyrant's  sceptre  cannot  move 

As  those  pure  tears  have  moved  1 
The  nature  in  thine  eyes  we  see, 

That  tyrants  cannot  own, 
The  love  that  guardeth  liberties! 
Strange  blessing  on  the  nation  lies, 
Whose  sovereign  wept — 

Yea !   wept,  to  wear  its  crown !  40 

God  bless  thee,  weeping  Queen, 

With  blessing  more  divine ! 
And  fill  Avith  happier  love  than  earth's 

That  tender  heart  of  thine ! 
That  when  the  thrones  of  earth  shall  be 

As  low  as  graves  brought  down, 
A  pierced  hand  may  give  to  thee 
The  crown  which  angels  shout  to  see! 
Thou  wilt  not  weep, 

To  wear  that  heavenly  crown  1  50 

Mrs.  Browning. 


ODE  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  THE  DUKE  OF  WELLINGTON  173 


ODE  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  THE    DUKE 
OF  WELLINGTON. 


(1852) 


I. 

Bury  the  Great  Duke 

With  an  empire's  lamentation, 

Let  us  bury  the  Great  Duke 

To  the  noise  of  the  mourning  of  a  mighty  nation, 
Mourning  when  their  leaders  fall. 
Warriors  carry  the  warrior's  pall. 
And  sorrow  darkens  hamlet  and  hall. 


II. 

Where  shall  we  lay  the  man  whom  we  deplore  ? 
Here,  in  streaming  London's  central  roar. 
Let  the  sound  of  those  he  ^vrought  for, 
And  the  feet  of  those  he  fought  for, 
Echo  round  his  bones  for  evermore. 


III. 

Lead  out  the  pageant:   sad  and  sIoav, 

As  fits  an  universal  woe, 

Let  the  long  long  procession  go. 

And  let  the  sorrowing  crowd  about  it  grow, 

And  let  the  mournful  martial  music  blow; 

The  last  great  Englishman  is  low. 


174  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

IV. 

Mourn,  for  to  us  he  seems  the  last, 

Remembering  all  his  greatness  in  the  Past.  20 

No  more  in  soldier  fashion  will  he  greet 

With  lifted  hand  the  gazer  in  the  street. 

0  friends,  our  chief  state-oracle  is  mute : 

Mourn  for  the  man  of  long-enduring  blood, 

The  statesman-warrior,  moderate,  resolute. 

Whole  in  himself,  a  common  good. 

Mourn  for  the  man  of  amplest  influence, 

Yet  clearest  of  ambitious  crime, 

Our  greatest  yet  with  least  pretence, 

Great  in  council  and  great  in  war,  30 

Foremost  captain  of  his  time. 

Rich  in  saving  common-sense. 

And,  as  the  greatest  only  are. 

In  his  simplicity  sublime. 

0  good  gray  head  which  all  men  knew, 

0  voice  from  which  their  omens  all  men  drew, 

0  iron  nerve  to  true  occasion  true, 

0  fall'n  at  length  that  tower  of  strength 

Which  stood  four-square  to  all  the  winds  that  blew! 

Such  was  he  whom  we  deplore.  40 

The  long  self-sacrifice  of  life  is  o'er. 

The  great  World-victor's  victor  wlQ  be  seen  no  more. 

V. 
All  is  over  and  done: 
Render  thanks  to  the  Giver, 
England,  for  thy  son. 
Let  the  bell  be  toll'd. 
Render  thanks  to  the  Giver, 
And  render  him  to  the  mould. 


ODE  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  THE  DUKE  OF  WELLINGTON    175 

Under  the  cross  of  gold 

That  shines  over  city  and  river,  5° 

There  he  shall  rest  for  ever 

Among  the  wise  and  the  bold. 

Let  the  bell  be  toU'd : 

And  a  reverent  people  behold 

The  towering  car,  the  sable  steeds: 

Bright  let  it  be  with  its  blazon'd  deeds, 

Dark  in  its  funeral  fold. 

Let  the  bell  be  toll'd: 

And  a  deeper  knell  in  the  heart  be  knolFd; 

And  the  sound  of  the  sorrowing  anthem  roll'd         60 

Thro'  the  dome  of  the  golden  cross; 

And  the  volleying  cannon  thunder  his  loss; 

He  knew  their  voices  of  old. 

For  many  a  time  in  many  a  clime 

His  captain's  ear  has  heard  them  boom 

Bellowing  victory,  bellowing  doom: 

When  he  with  those  deep  voices  wrought, 

Gruarding  realms  and  kings  from  shame; 

With  those  deep  voices  our  dead  captaia  taught 

The  tyrant,  and  asserts  his  claim  70 

In  that  dread  sound  to  the  great  name. 

Which  he  has  worn  so  pure  of  blame, 

In  praise  and  in  dispraise  the  same, 

A  man  of  well-attemper'd  frame. 

0  civic  muse,  to  such  a  name. 

To  such  a  name  for  ages  long. 

To  such  a  name. 

Preserve  a  broad  approach  of  fame. 

And  ever-echoing  avenues  of  song. 


176  BALI.ADS  AND   POEMS 


VI. 


"Who  is  he  that  cometh,  like  an  honour'd  guest,    80 
With  banner  and  with  music,  with  soldier  and  with 

priest, 
With  a  nation  weeping,  and  breaking  on  my  rest?" 
Mighty  Seaman,  this  is  he 
Was  great  by  land  as  thou  by  sea. 
Thine  island  loves  thee  well,  thou  famous  man, 
The  greatest  sailor  since  our  world  began. 
Now,  to  the  roll  of  muffled  drums. 
To  thee  the  greatest  soldier  comes; 
For  this  is  he 

Was  great  by  land  as  thou  by  sea;  9° 

His  foes  were  thine;  he  kept  us  free; 
O  give  him  welcome,  this  is  he 
Worthy  of  our  gorgeous  rites, 
And  worthy  to  be  laid  by  thee; 
For  this  is  England's  greatest  son, 
He  that  gain'd  a  hundred  fights, 
Nor  ever  lost  an  English  gun; 
This  is  he  that  far  away 
Against  the  myriads  of  Assaye 

Clash'd  with  his  fiery  few  and  won;  100 

And  underneath  another  sun, 
Warring  on  a  later  day. 
Round  affrighted  Lisbon  drew 
The  treble  works,  the  vast  designs 
Of  his  labour'd  rampart-lines. 
Where  he  greatly  stood  at  bay, 
Whence  he  issued  forth  anew, 
And  ever  great  and  greater  grew, 


ODE  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  THE  DUKE  OF  WELLINGTON    177 

Beating  from  the  wasted  vines 

Back  to  France  her  banded  SAvamis,  no 

Back  to  France  with  countless  blows, 

Till  o'er  the  hills  her  eagles  flew 

Beyond  the  Pyrenean  pines, 

FoUow'd  up  in  valley  and  glen 

With  blare  of  bugle,  clamour  of  men, 

Roll  of  cannon  and  clash  of  arms, 

And  England  pouring  on  her  foes. 

Such  a  war  had  such  a  close. 

Again  their  ravening  eagle  rose 

In  anger,  wheel'd  on  Europe-shadowing  wings,       120 

And  barking  for  the  thrones  of  kings; 

Till  one  that  sought  but  Duty's  iron  crown 

On  that  loud  sabbath  shook  the  spoiler  down; 

A  day  of  onsets  of  despair! 

Dash'd  on  every  rocky  square 

Their  surging  charges  foam'd  themselves  away; 

Last,  the  Prussian  trumpet  blew; 

Thro'  the  long-tormented  air 

Heaven  flash' d  a  sudden  jubilant  ray. 

And  down  we  swept  and  charged  and  overthrew.  130 

So  great  a  soldier  taught  us  there. 

What  long-enduring  hearts  could  do 

In  that  world-earthquake,  Waterloo ! 

Mighty  Seaman,  tender  and  true, 

And  pure  as  he  from  taint  of  craven  guile, 

O  saviour  of  the  silver-coasted  isle, 

0  shaker  of  the  Baltic  and  the  Nile, 

If  aught  of  things  that  here  befall 

Touch  a  spirit  among  things  divine. 

If  love  of  country  move  thee  there  at  all,  140 

Be  glad,  because  his  bones  are  laid  by  thine ! 

s.  12 


178  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

And  tliro'  the  centuries  let  a  people's  voice 

In  full  acclaim, 

A  people's  voice, 

The  proof  and  echo  of  all  human  fame, 

A  people's  voice,  when  they  rejoice 

At  civic  revel  and  pomp  and  game, 

Attest  their  great  commander's  claim 

With  honour,  honour,  honour,  honour  to  him, 

Eternal  honour  to  his  name.  150 

VII. 

A  people's  voice!  we  are  a  people  yet. 

Tho'  all  men  else  their  nobler  dreams  forget, 

Confused  by  brainless  mobs  and  lawless  Powers; 

Thank  Him  who  isled  us  here,  and  roughly  set 

His  Briton  in  blown  seas  and  storming  showers, 

We  have  a  voice,  with  which  to  pay  the  debt 

Of  boundless  love  and  reverence  and  regret 

To  those  great  men  who  fought,  and  kept  it  ours. 

And  keep  it  ours,  O  God,  from  brute  control; 

0  Statesmen,  guard  us,  guard  the  eye,  the  soul     163 

Of  Europe,  keep  our  noble  England  whole, 

And  save  the  one  true  seed  of  freedom  sown 

Betwixt  a  people  and  their  ancient  throne, 

That  sober  freedom  out  of  which  there  springs 

Our  loyal  passion  for  our  temperate  kings; 

For,  saving  that,  ye  help  to  save  mankind 

Till  public  wrong  be  crumbled  into  dust. 

And  drill  the  raw  world  for  the  march  of  mind, 

Till  crowds  at  length  be  sane  and  crowns  be  just. 

But  wink  no  more  in  slothful  overtrust.  170 

Remember  him  who  led  your  hosts; 

He  bad  you  guard  the  sacred  coasts. 


ODE  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  THE  DUKE  OF  WELLINGTON     179 

Your  cannons  moulder  on  the  seaward  wall; 

His  voice  is  silent  in  your  council-hall 

For  ever;    and  whatever  tempests  lour 

For  ever  silent;   even  if  they  broke 

In  thunder,  silent:   yet  remember  all 

He  spoke  among  you,  and  the  Man  who  spoke; 

Who  never  sold  the  truth  to  serve  the  hour. 

Nor  palter'd  with  Eternal  God  for  power;  i8o 

Who  let  the  turbid  streams  of  rumour  flow 

Thro'  either  babbling  world  of  high  and  low; 

Whose  life  was  work,  whose  language  rife 

With  rugged  maxims  hewn  from  life; 

Who  never  spoke  against  a  foe; 

Whose  eighty  winters  freeze  with  one  rebuke 

All  great  self-seekers  trampling  on  the  right: 

Truth-teller  was  our  England's  Alfred  named; 

Truth-lover  was  our  English  Duke; 

Whatever  record  leap  to  light  190 

He  never  shall  be  shamed. 


VIII. 

Lo,  the  leader  in  these  glorious  wars 

Now  to  glorious  burial  slowly  borne, 

FoUoVd  by  the  brave  of  other  lands, 

He,  on  whom  from  both  her  open  hands 

Lavish  Honour  shower'd  all  her  stars, 

And  affluent  Fortune  emptied  all  her  horn. 

Yea,  let  all  good  things  await 

Him  who  cares  not  to  be  great. 

But  as  he  saves  or  serves  the  state.  200 

Not  once  or  twice  in  our  rough  island-story. 

The  path  of  duty  was  the  way  to  glory : 

12—2 


180  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

He  that  walks  it,  only  thirsting 

For  the  right,  and  learns  to  deaden 

Love  of  self,  before  his  journey  closes, 

He  shall  find  the  stubborn  thistle  bursting 

Into  glossy  purples,  wliich  outredden 

All  voluptuous  garden-roses. 

Not  once  or  twice  in  our  fair  island-story, 

The  path  of  duty  was  the  way  to  glory:  210 

He,  that  ever  following  her  commands, 

On  with  toil  of  heart  and  knees  and  hands. 

Thro'  the  long  gorge  to  the  far  light  has  won 

His  path  upward,  and  prevail'd. 

Shall  find  the  toppling  crags  of  Duty  scaled 

Are  close  upon  the  shining  table-lands 

To  which  our  God  Himself  is  moon  and  sun. 

Such  was  he:   his  work  is  done. 

But  while  the  races  of  mankind  endure. 

Let  his  great  example  stand  220 

Colossal,  seen  of  every  land, 

And  keep  the  soldier  firm,  the  statesman  pure : 

Till  in  all  lands  and  thro'  all  human  story 

The  path  of  duty  be  the  way  to  glory : 

And  let  the  land  whose  hearths  he  saved  from  shame 

For  many  and  many  an  age  proclaim 

At  civic  revel  and  pomp  and  game, 

And  when  the  long-illumined  cities  flame, 

Their  ever-loyal  iron  leader's  fame, 

With  honour,  honour,  honour,  honour  to  him,          230 

Eternal  honour  to  his  name. 

IX. 

Peace,  his  triumph  will  be  sung 
By  some  yet  unmoulded  tongue 


ODE  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  THE  DUKE  OF  WELLINGTON  181 

Far  on  in  summers  that  we  shall  not  see : 

Peace,  it  is  a  day  of  pain 

For  one  about  whose  patriarchal  knee 

Late  the  little  children  chmg: 

0  peace,  it  is  a  day  of  pain 

For  one,  upon  whose  hand  and  heart  and  brain 

Once  the  weight  and  fate  of  Europe  hung.  240 

Ours  the  pain,  be  his  the  gain  I 

More  than  is  of  man's  degree 

Must  be  with  us,  watching  here 

At  this,  our  great  solemnity. 

Whom  we  see  not  we  revere; 

We  revere,  and  we  refrain 

From  talk  of  battles  loud  and  vain, 

And  brawling  memories  all  too  free 

For  such  a  wise  humility 

As  befits  a  solemn  fane:  250 

We  revere,  and  while  we  hear 

The  tides  of  Music's  golden  sea 

Setting  toward  eternity, 

Uplifted  high  in  heart  and  hope  are  we, 

Until  we  doubt  not  that  for  one  so  true 

There  must  be  other  nobler  work  to  do 

Than  when  he  fought  at  Waterloo, 

And  Victor  he  must  ever  be. 

For  tho'  the  Giant  Ages  heave  the  hill 

And  break  the  shore,  and  evermore  260 

Make  and  break,  and  work  their  will ; 

Tho'  world  on  world  in  myriad  myriads  roll 

Eound  us,  each  with  different  powers, 

And  other  forms  of  life  than  ours. 

What  know  we  greater  than  the  soul? 


182  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

On  God  and  Grodlike  men  we  build  our  trust. 

Hush,  the  Dead  March  wails  in  the  people's  ears: 

The  dark  crowd  moves,  and  there  are  sobs  and  tears : 

The  black  earth  yawns:   the  mortal  disappears; 

Ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  dust;  270 

He  is  gone  who  seem'd  so  great. — 

Gone;   but  nothing  can  bereave  him 

Of  the  force  he  made  his  own 

Being  here,  and  we  believe  hira 

Something  far  advanced  in  State, 

And  that  he  wears  a  truer  crown 

Than  any  wreath  that  man  can  weave  him. 

Speak  no  more  of  his  renown, 

Lay  your  earthly  fancies  down. 

And  in  the  vast  cathedral  leave  him,  280 

God  accept  him,  Christ  receive  liim. 

Lord  Tennyson. 


THE  CHARGE  OF  THE  LIGHT  BEIGADE. 
(1854) 

I.  \y' 

Half  a  league,  half  a  league, 

Half  a  league  onward, 
All  in  the  valley  of  Death 

Rode  the  six  hundred. 
"  Forward,  the  Light  Brigade ! 
Charge  for  the  guns!"  he  said: 
Into  the  valley  of  Death 

Rode  the  six  hundred. 


THE  CHARGE   OF   THE   LIGHT   BRIGADE  183 

II. 

"  Forward,  the  Light  Brigade  ! " 

Was  there  a  man  dismay'd  ?  lo 

Not  though  the  soldier  knew 

Some  one  had  blunder'd : 
Theirs  not  to  make  reply, 
Theirs  not  to  reason  why, 
Theirs  but  to  do  and  die, 
Into  the  valley  of  Death 

Rode  the  six  hundred. 


III. 

Cannon  to  right  of  them, 

Camion  to  left  of  them, 

Cannon  in  front  of  them  20 

Volley'd  and  thunder'd; 
Storm'd  at  Avith  shot  and  shell, 
Boldly  they  rode  and  well. 
Into  the  jaws  of  Death, 
Into  the  mouth  of  Hell 

Rode  the  six  hundred. 


IV. 

Flash'd  all  their  sabres  bare, 

Flash'd  as  they  turn'd  in  air, 

Sabring  the  gunners  there, 

Charging  an  army,  while  30 

All  the  world  wonder'd: 
Plunged  in  the  battery-smoke, 
Right  through  the  line  they  broke; 


184  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

Cossack  and  Russian 
Reel'd  from  the  sabre-stroke 

Sliatter'd  and  sunder'd. 
Then  they  rode  back — but  not, 

Not  the  six  hundred. 


Cannon   to  right  of  them, 

Cannon  to  left  of  them,  4° 

Cannon  behind  them 

Volleyed  and  thunder'd; 
Storm'd  at  with  shot  and  shell, 
While  horse  and  hero  fell, 
They  that  had  fought  so  well 
Came  through  the  jaws  of  Death, 
Back  from  the  mouth  of  Hell, 
All  that  was  left  of  them, 

Left  of  six  hundred. 

VI. 

When  can  their  glory  fade?  30 

Oh  the  wild  charge  they  made ! 

All  the  world  wonder'd. 
Honour  the  charge  they  made! 
Honour  the  Light  Brigade, 

Noble  six  hundred ! 

Lord  Tennyson. 


NOTES. 


BOADICEA. 

Boadicea  was  queen  of  the  British  tribe  of  the  Iceni.  In  61, 
angered  by  the  treatment  to  which  she  was  subjected  by  the  Eomans, 
she  headed  a  revolt  against  them.  Being  defeated,  she  died,  either 
in  battle,  or  of  grief,  or  by  her  own  hand,  according  to  various 
accounts. 

6.     Druid,  the  ancient  British  priest. 

20.     Gaul :  it  was  the  Goths  who  overthrew  the  Eoman  Empire. 

31.     eagles  :  the  Eoman  standard. 

38,  40.    them  refers  to  '  the  bard's  prophetic  words,'  1.  33. 

William  Cowper  (1731 — 1800)  stands  in  English  poetry  in  a 
position  midway  between  the  artificial  school  of  Pope  and  the 
« return  to  nature '  of  which  Wordsworth  is  the  type. 


KING  CANUTE. 

On  the  death  of  Ethelred  in  1016,  Canute  became  king  of 
Northumbria  and  Mercia,  and  when  Edmund,  king  of  East  England 
and  Wessex,  died  later  in  the  year,  Canute  was  left  sole  king.  The 
incident  recorded  in  the  poem  is  traditional. 

5.  silversticks  and  goldsticks  :  courtiers  of  a  much  later  date ;  it 
is  an  humorous  anachronism. 

11.    gleemen :  minstrels. 

55.    the  Jewish  captain  :  Joshua.     See  Joshua,  x.  13. 

William  Makepeace  Thackeray  (1811 — 1863)  was  mainly  a  novelist 
and  satirical  writer,  and  only  an  occasional  poet.  This  poem  is  a 
mock-antique,  containing  more  than  one  anachronism.  It  is  supposed 
to  be  sung  by  the  knight  of  Ivanhoe  in  Thackeray's  burlesque  Rebecca 
and  Rowena,  a  comic  continuation  and  parody  of  Sir  Walter  Scott's 
novel. 


186  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 


HE   NEVER  SMILED  AGAIN. 

1.  The  bark  was  called  the  White  Ship,  and  the  prince  was 
Wilham,  the  only  son  of  Henry  L  The  ship  sank  on  25  November, 
1120,  and  tradition  records  that  Henry  never  smiled  afterwards. 
D.  G.  Kossetti  (1828—1882)  wrote  a  fine  ballad  The  White  Ship  on 
the  same  episode. 

19.    The  tourney:  tournaments  or  jousts  were  the  sport  of  knights. 

Felicia  Dorothea  Hemaus  (1793 — 1835)  during  a  comparatively 
short  life  wrote  a  great  deal  of  fluent  verse  of  a  sentimental  kind. 
Her  best-known  poem  is  Casablanca. 


KING  JOHN   AND   THE   ABBOT   OF   CANTERBURY. 

This  is  a  traditional  ballad,  supposed  to  be  of  Oriental  origin  and 
a  fragment  of  Coptic  folk-lore.  A  popular  story  such  as  this  is 
necessarily  of  wide  vogue,  and  versions  of  it  appear  in  Germany  in 
the  thirteenth  century  and  in  Italy  in  the  fifteenth.  It  must  be 
understood  that  when  the  story  came  to  England,  it  was  fastened 
upon  King  John,  and  does  not  in  fact  record  an  historical  incident 
of  that  monarch. 

19.     dere  :  an  obsolete  word  meaning  '  harm.' 

25.    stead  :  position,  circumstances. 

62.  learn  :  this  used  to  mean  '  teach,'  but  now  it  is  only  used  so 
vulgarly. 

71.  crozler,  an  abbot's  staff:  mitre,  rochet,  and  cope,  parts  of 
his  dress.     A  rochet  is  a  close-fitting  surplice. 

85.     St.  Bittel,  an  imaginary  saint. 

105.    nobles,  gold  coins  worth  6s.  8d. 


LAMENT  FOR  SIMON   DE   MONTFORT. 

Simon  de  Moutfort,  Earl  of  Leicester,  was  slain  at  the  Battle  of 
Evesham  in  Worcestershire,  4  August,  1265. 

13.     The  battle  was  fought  on  a  Tuesday. 

31.  Sir  Hugh  le  Dispenser,  justice  of  England,  killed  in  the 
battle. 

35.     Henry,  son  of  Simon  de  Montfort. 


NOTES  187 

The  English  poem  was  translated  by  George  Ellis  (1753—1815), 
a  satirical  verse-writer  and  contributor  to  the  Anti-Jacobin,  from  an 
early  poem  in  French,  evidently  written  by  one  of  Simon  de  Mont- 
fort's  adherents. 


ROBIN   HOOD   AND   THE   THREE   SQUIRES. 

Eobin  Hood  is  not  historical,  but  a  popular  hero  created  by 
ballads.  No  reference  to  him  is  known  earlier  than  the  end  of  the 
fourteenth  century,  but  he  was  doubtless  a  popular  character  before 
that  date.  The  best  ballads  of  Robin  Hood  belong  to  the  fifteenth 
century;  but  the  present  one  is  obviously  of  later  workmanship, 
compiled  in  the  seventeenth  century  by  some  hack-writer.  None  the 
less,  it  is  typical  of  the  courteous  and  free  outlaw,  who  throughout  is 
representative  of  the  yeoman  as  opposed  to  the  higher  orders,  spiritual 
and  temporal,  upon  whom  he  levies  toll.  Traditionally,  he  is  associated 
with  Nottingham,  as  in  this  ballad,  and  with  Bamsdale  in  the  West 
Biding  of  Yorkshire,  between  Barnsley,  Doncaster,  Wakefield,  and 
Pontefract. 

19.    palmer,  pilgrim. 

52.    list,  desire,  wish. 

62.  Probably  a  corruption  of  'May  Heaven  you  save  and  see,' 
see  being  an  old  word  meaning  '  protect.' 

96.  shining,  a  corruption  of  some  word  equivalent  to  'hastening'; 
perhaps  'skimming.' 

101.    slack,  a  pass  between  two  hills. 

BOLD  ROBIN. 

The  poem  illustrates  Robin  Hood's  traditional  method  of  dealing 
with  the  friars. 

1.     ghostly,  spiritual,  priestly. 

35.  angels,  gold  coins  of  value  varying  between  a  third  and  a 
half  of  a  pound. 

Thomas  Love  Peacock  (1785 — 1866),  a  friend  of  Shelley,  was 
a  novelist,  satirist,  and  poet,  whose  novels  undoubtedly  influenced 
Thackeray.  Bold  Robin  comes  in  the  novel  Maid  Marian,  and  is  one 
of  the  best  of  Peacock's  songs,  most  of  which  attain  a  very  high 
Btandard. 


188  BALLADS   AND  POEMS 


DURHAM   FIELD. 

This  battle  was  fought  on  October  17,  1346,  but  the  ballad  was 
not  written  till  at  least  130  years  later,  and  some  of  the  minstrel's 
statements  are  not  in  accordance  with  any  of  the  accounts  of  the 
battle.  Edward  in  being  in  France  at  the  siege  of  Calais,  David 
Bruce,  the  young  king  of  Scotland,  took  the  opportunity  to  invade 
England,  and  was  met  at  Durham  by  an  English  force  in  three 
divisions,  one  (says  the  English  chronicle)  under  the  Earl  of  Angus, 
Henry  Percy,  Kalph  NevUle,  and  Henry  Scrope,  the  second  under  the 
Archbishop  of  York,  and  the  third  under  Mowbray,  Rokeby,  and  John 
of  Copland.  The  Scots'  three  divisions,  according  to  the  Scottish 
chronicle,  were  led  (i)  by  King  David  Bruce,  (ii)  the  Earl  of  Murray 
and  William  Douglas,  and  (iii)  the  Steward  of  Scotland  and  the  Earl 
of  March. 

2.     spell,  while. 

8.  busked,  prepared  themselves :  boun,  ready.  The  whole  phrase 
constantly  occurs  in  ballads.     See  1.  102,  150. 

12.    Btound,  time. 

23.    leeve,  dear,  pleasant :  a  common  epithet  of  London. 

32.     bearen  :  an  old  plural  form  j  cf.  11.  128,  192,  193. 

37.    Hard  hansel,  bad  omen. 

40.  For,  for  fear  of. 

41.  AngiiiRh  =  Angna.  The  minstrel  absurdly  puts  him  with  tlie 
Scots. 

49.     Vaughan  is  probably  Buehan. 
65.    vanward,  vanguard,  front  of  battle. 
65.     Neville  was  also  on  the  English  side. 
74.    breme,  fierce. 
79.     Marches,  the  Border, 
93.    Westchester,  Chester. 
105.     The  minstrel  is  wrong  again. 
109.    But  all  only,  all  except. 
158.     ancients,  ensigns,  flags. 

163.    nuwUliams    is   probably   meant    to    represent   Llewellyn, 
a  name  which  Shakespeare  spells  Fluellen ;  but  the  lord  is  unknown. 
173.     orders,  prepares. 

180.  may,  maiden  ;  the  Virgin  Mary. 

181.  scantly,  scarcely. 


NOTES  189 

192,  193.     See  note  on  1.  32. 

196.     dree,  endure,  hold  out. 

199.  Notice  thorough  in  this  line  and  the  next,  an  old  form  of 
through  surviving  in  thoroughfare. 

241.     food,  man,  knight. 

247.    leve,  grant, 

253 — 6.  A  grotesque  error  of  the  minstrel.  Cre(;y  was  fought 
26  August,  1346,  and  Poictiers  on  10  September,  1356. 


CHEVY   CHASE. 

This  is  a  seventeenth-century  version  of  an  older  ballad.  The 
Hunting  of  the  Cheviot,  which  is  apparently  founded  upon  the  story 
of  the  Battle  of  Otterburn,  fought  19  August,  1388.  All  that  is  left 
in  the  present  ballad  is  a  duel  between  Earl  Percy  of  Northumberland 
and  Earl  Douglas.  This  version  was  appraised  by  Joseph  Addison 
(1672—1719)  in  the  Spectator;  while  Sir  Philip  Sidney's  eulogy  of  an 
earlier  version  is  even  more  famous. 

4.     Chevy,  Cheviot;  Chase,  hunting-ground. 

37.     quarry,  deer  killed  in  the  hunt. 

49.  Tividale,  Teviotdale,  in  the  south  of  Scotland  near  the 
Border.    A  tributary  of  the  Tweed  flows  through  it. 

58.  But  and  if :  'and  if  is  equivalent  to  'if,'  while  'but'  goes 
with  'I  durst  encounter.'  The  meaning  is,  'There  was  never  yet 
a  champion  whom  I  dared  not  encounter,  if  it  so  fell  out.' 

106.    bade,  abode,  waited ;  bent,  field,  grass. 

119.    wood,  mad  ;  laid  on  load,  dealt  heavy  blows. 

143.  Forwhy :  an  old  English  word  meaning  because.  Cf.  in  the 
'  Old  Hundredth '  hymn  (nearly  always  wrongly  printed  as  two  words, 
and  with  a  mark  of  interrogation) : 

"  Forwhy  the  Lord  our  God  is  good." 

198  If.  These  names  vary  in  the  different  versions,  and  their 
owners  for  the  most  part  cannot  be  identified  with  any  certainty. 

242.  Humbledown,  the  battle  of  Homildon  Hill,  near  Wooler  in 
Northumberland,  fought  1402,  in  which  Henry  IV  defeated  the  Scots; 
but  the  ballad  is  again  out,  as  James  (1.  225)  was  not  crowned  till 
1424. 


190  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

THE   BATTLE   OF   HARLAW. 

This  battle  was  fought  on  24  July,  1411,  between  Donald  of  the 
Isles  and  an  army  of  Lowlanders  under  the  Earl  of  Mar  and  the 
sheriff  of  Angus.  Donald,  whom  the  ballad  calls  "Macdonell,"  laid 
claim  to  the  Earldom  of  Boss,  and  was  advancing  on  Aberdeen  when 
he  was  met  at  Harlaw  and  defeated.  He  lost  900  men,  and  the 
victors  500. 

1 4.     I :  the  ballad  is  pot  into  the  mouth  of  '  John  Hielan'man,' 

who  meets  two  knights,  both  unknown  to  history.  Dunidier  is  a  hill 
on  the  Aberdeen  road  near  Harlaw,  which  is  18  miles  N.W.  of  Aber- 
deen.   NetherliaU  is  close  by. 

7.     Balquhain  is  a  mile  south  of  Harlaw. 

16.  Bhe  means  '  I.'  In  Scottish  dialect  one  might  have  expected 
'  her.' 

26.  Gin,  if. 

27.  meiMe  =  mickle,  much, 
31.    maun,  must. 

33.     We'll  try  what  we  can  do. 

43.    Bair,  sore.     So  mair  in  1.  45  =  more. 

40.    we'se,  we  shall. 

60.  Drumminnor  :  more  than  twenty  miles  away,  but  the  horse 
covers  the  distance  there  and  back  in  two  hours  and  a  quarter  1 

61.  fess,  fetch. 
74.    ae,  one,  single. 

78.     lierachie,  hubbub,  confusion.     Pronounce  as  four  syllables. 
90 — 93.     This,  of  course,  must  be  largely  discounted. 
98.    Bpeer  at,  ask  of.     See  Dick  o'  the  Cow,  57,  note. 


THE   AGINCOURT  SONG. 

This  and  the  two  following  pieces  relate  to  Henry  V's  expedition 
iuto  France  in  1415,  when  he  captured  Harfleur  and  won  the  battle 
of  Agincourt  (25  October). 

This  is  a  contemporary  song,  written  when  the  sword  was 
mightier  than  the  pen.  It  is  here  reduced  to  modern  English ;  and 
must  be  read  so  as  to  bring  out  the  final  rimes. 

1.  Henry  landed  at  the  mouth  of  the  Seine ;  cf.  Drayton's  poem, 
1.  6. 


NOTES  191 

5,6.  The  Latin  refrain  means: — "England,  render  thanks  to 
God  for  the  victory." 

7.  the  sooth  for  to  say,  to  tell  the  truth.  Perhaps  the  should  be 
thee,  meaning  'to  tell  you  the  truth.' 

14.  Frenche  :  a  form  of  the  genitive. 

15.  In  modern  English  we  should  insert  '  neither '  before  the 
word  'for.' 

16.  Agincourt  is  about  half-way  between  the  river  Somme  and 
Calais. 

32,    well-willing,  well-wishers,  adherents. 


KING  HENRY  THE  FIFTH'S  CONQUEST  OF  FRANCE. 

The  story  of  the  tennis-balls  is  scarcely  to  be  accepted  as  his- 
torical, though  it  is  supported  by  tradition  from  contemporary 
chronicles.  Shakespeare  made  use  of  it  in  his  play  of  Henry  V 
(Act  I,  Scene  2). 

14.    lie :  bad  grammar  necessitated  by  the  rime. 

19.     Some  accounts  say  it  was  a  '  ton '  of  tennis-balls. 

35 — 6.  There  is  no  historical  confirmation  of  this  kindness  on 
Henry's  part. 

49.  This  also  lacks  authority.  Henry  left  France  as  soon  as 
possible  after  the  battle. 

55 — 6.  This  refers  to  the  subsequent  marriage  of  Henry  V  to 
Katharine,  the  daughter  of  Charles  VI  of  France. 


AGINCOURT. 

This  poem,  written  two  centuries  after  the  battle,  is  a  more 
circumstantial  account  of  the  incident  than  either  of  the  foregoing 
pieces, 

3.     prove,  try,  make  trial  of. 

6.     Caux  was  where  Havre  now  stands. 

13 — 16.  The  French  army  took  up  their  position  at  Agincourt, 
barring  the  way  to  Calais,  whither  Henry  V  was  marching. 

17.    Which  refers  to  the  French  general. 

19.    Ms  refers  to  Henry,  and  so  does  he  in  1.  21. 

24.  their  refers  to  the  French,  the  '  nation  vile.'  Notice  the  bad 
construction  of  this  verse ;  the  grammar  is  involved. 


192  BALLADS  AND   POEMS 

27.  As  a  matter  of  fact  the  French  were  about  four  or  five  times 
the  number  of  the  English,  who  were  eight  or  ten  thousand  strong. 

41.  Poictiers  (1356)  was  partially,  and  Cre5y  (1346)  mainly,  won 
by  English  archers  ;  therefore  '  swords  '  is  misleading. 

49.  The  Duke  of  York  :  grandson  of  Edward  III. 

50.  vaward  =  vanguard ;  see  note  on  Durham  Field,  I.  55. 

53.  Excester :  old  spelling  of  Exeter.  John  Holland,  afterwards 
Duke  of  Exeter,  was  in  the  battle,  but  the  rear  was  led  by  Lord 
Camoys. 

66.     Sir  Thomas  Erpingham  was  marshal  of  the  English  army. 

82.     bilbos,  swords,  from  Bilbao  in  Spain. 

89.     This  wMle,  meanwhile. 

91.     ding,  hurl. 

93.  lent,  gave. 

94.  besprent,  sprinkled. 

97.     Humphrey  Duke  of  Gloucester,  the  king's  youngest  brother. 

101.  The  Duke  of  Clarence,  Henry's  third  brother,  was  not  at 
the  battle.     Nor  was  the  Earl  of  Warwick  (1.  105). 

113.  Saint  Crispin's  Day,  October  25,  is  the  feast  of  two  saints, 
Crispin  and  Crispinian.  The  battle  of  Balaclava  took  place  on  the 
same  day  in  1854. 

Michael  Drayton  (?1563 — 1631)  was  a  Jacobean  poet  who  compiled 
many  long  poems,  historical  and  topographical.  He  wrote  a  longer 
poem  also  on  Agincourt,  but  this,  and  one  of  his  sonnets,  are  the 
best-known  pieces. 


THE   ROSE   OF  ENGLAND. 

This  poem  is  remarkable  amongst  traditional  ballads  for  having 
an  allegory,  sustained  almost  throughout.  It  deals  with  the  winning 
of  the  crown  of  England  from  Eichard  III  by  the  Earl  of  Richmond, 
afterwards  Henry  VH. 

1.     The  garden  is,  of  course,  England. 

7.  the  rose  so  red,  Edward  V.  A  red  rose  was  the  badge  of  the 
house  of  Lancaster. 

8.  rise,  twig,  branch. 

13.  The  boar  stands  for  Eichard  HI,  whose  cognisance  was  a 
boar  argent. 

15.    the  seed  of  tbe  rose,  Eiohmond. 


NOTES  193 

17.  Richard  was  supposed  to  have  murdered  Henry  VI  and  his 
son  Edward. 

21.  The  eagle  is  Lord  Stanley,  afterwards  Earl  of  Derby,  whose 
castle  was  at  Lathom.  It  is  not  an  historical  fact  that  he  was 
protector  of  Eichmond. 

26.     lain,  conceal. 

31.  A  blue  boar  was  the  cognisance  of  the  Earl  of  Oxford. 

32.  the  boar  so  white ;  see  1.  13  and  note. 
49.     wend,  go. 

52.     at  Ms  own  lust,  as  he  desires. 

56.  shogged  them,  moved  themselves. 

57.  baUy,  bailiff.     Cf.  1.  72. 

63.  The  ballad-maker  has  recorded  only  part  of  a  humorous 
incident.  Mitton  had  sworn  to  admit  no  enemy  of  King  Eichard 
to  the  town  except  over  his  own  body,  meaning  that  he  would  die 
in  defence  of  the  town.  Eichmond  proposed,  therefore,  that  Mitton 
should  lie  down,  and  he  would  step  over  his  body ;  and  this  ('  I  am 
sure  the  chronicles  will  not  lie ')  was  actually  done  1 

75.     head,  behead. 

93.    Atherstone,  near  Bosworth  Field. 

97.     The  bird  was  Lord  Strange,  son  of  Stanley. 

101.     verament,  truly. 

105,     vanward :  see  note  on  Durham  Field,  1.  55. 

111.  A  talbot  (a  kind  of  dog)  was  the  badge  of  the  Talbot  family, 
Earls  of  Shrewsbury,     This  one  was  Sir  Gilbert  Talbot. 

112.  The  unicorn  stands  for  Sir  John  Savage,  did  him  quite, 
acquitted  himself. 

113.  the  hart's  head,  Sir  William  Stanley,  Lord  Stanleys 
brother. 


SIR  ANDREW  BARTON. 

This  splendid  and  amusing  ballad  is  founded  on  an  historical 
incident  of  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.  The  Portuguese  had  seized 
a  ship  commanded  by  Sir  Andrew  Barton's  father,  and  the  son  was 
therefore  given  letters  of  reprisal  from  the  King  of  Scotland.  He 
seems  to  have  abused  this  privilege,  and  in  1511  Sir  Thomas  and 
Sir  Edward  Howard  were  sent  by  Henry  VIII  to  capture  him.  Sir 
Andrew  Barton  was  killed  and  his  ship,  the  Liua,  was  taken. 

s.  13 


194  BALLADS    A\D    POEMS 

18.    mickle,  much,  great.     See  The  Battle  of  Harlaw,  1.  27. 

29.     The  ballad-maker  has  got  the  name  wrong ;  see  above. 

48.  tliou'st  =  thou  shalt.  Cf.  11.  244,  309  ;  and  see  The  Battle  of 
Harlaw,  1.  49,  and  note. 

52.  bread,  breadth.  The  line  means  '  if  I  miss  my  aim  by  the 
breadth  of  three  pennies.'     Cf.  1.  64. 

91.  archboaxd.  It  is  not  known  exactly  what  is  meant  by  this 
word,  here  or  in  1.  114,  but  the  meaning  is  clear.  Perhaps  it  is  the 
same  as  '  hatch-board '  in  11.  141,  278.  Here  the  sense  is  '  he  grappled 
my  ship  to  the  side  of  his.' 

99.     thee  fro = from  thee. 

104.     wot,  understand,  know. 

109.     dearly  dight,  handsomely  fitted  out. 

114.     The  meaning  of  this  line  is  not  clear.     See  above,  1.  91. 

116.     And  if  =  if,  even  if  ;  cf.  1.  136. 

184.  taken  me  sworn,  exacted  an  oath  of  me,  i.e.  liberated  me 
on  parole. 

140.     After  this  verse  there  is  a  dramatic  interval  of  a  night. 

142.     See  1.  109. 

145.     ancients,  ensigns.     See  Durham  Field,  1.  158. 

152.     can,  know ;  here  it  means  '  practise,'  or  *  show.' 

155.     Portingale,  Portuguese. 

172.     moe  :  an  old  form  of  '  more.' 

182.  that :  a  superfluous  word  often  occurring  in  these  ballads  ; 
cf.  11.  214,  226. 

186.    ■Weet  =  wit  [ye],  know. 

208.  The  beams  appear  to  have  been  an  engine  of  uaval  warfare, 
perhaps  for  grappling  two  ships  together,  like  the  ancient  corvus. 
See  \.  116,  and  later  1.  220. 

209.  swarved,  swarmed,  climbed. 

211.  a  bearing  arrow  was  perhaps  an  extra  long  arrow,  or  a 
light  arrow  for  long-distance  shooting.     But  cf.  1.  223. 

227 — 8.     This  is  the  ballad-maker's  comment. 

248.     sMp  is  perhaps  a  mistake  for  '  scrip,'  bag,  or  quiver. 

251.     spole  =  Scottish  'spauld,'  shoulder. 

255.    jack,  coat  of  mail. 

266.     lay,  wager,  bet. 

272.  the  rest  [who]  were :  for  this  omission  of  the  relative,  cf. 
\.  275. 

280.    thou  lands  =  thou  landest.     CL  1.  74. 


NOTES  195 

293.  he  means  the  King. 

300.  Thia  astonishing    remark   is   the  ballad-maker's  own   in- 
vention. 

310.  store,  plenty. 

317.  i.e.  went  into  another  room. 


FLODDEN   FIELD. 

The  battle  of  Flodden  was  fought  9  September,  1513,  between 
James  IV  of  Scotland  and  an  English  force  under  the  Earl  of  Surrey. 
Flodden  is  near  the  Scottish  border  in  Northumberland.  The  Scots 
were  beaten,  and  James  killed. 

3.     lovely :  cf .  '  leeve  London  '  in  Durham  Field,  1.  23,  and  note. 

9.  Margaret  was  the  sister  of  Henry  VIII,  who  was  absent  in 
France.     Her  remonstrance  with  her  husband  is  an  historical  fact. 

21.  Lord  Thomas  Howard  was  the  Earl  of  Surrey.  He  had 
conducted  Margaret  to  Scotland  for  her  marriage  in  1503 ;  which  is 
sufficient  ground  for  the  ballad-maker  to  introduce  him  as  her 
chamberlain  ten  years  later. 

26.    mome,  fool,  dolt. 

29  and  31.  Flodden  is  the  name  of  the  hill ;  Bramstone,  now 
Brankston,  is  a  village  hard  by. 

37.  The  Scots  lost  certainly  10,000  men,  including  members  of 
nearly  all  their  aristocratic  families. 

45.  Jack  with  a  feather  is  a  contemptuous  phrase  directed  at 
James  IV's  foolhardiness.  lapt  aJI  in  leather:  bodies  were  some- 
times wrapped  in  leather  first,  and  then  in  lead,  or  vice  versa. 

47.    morrice-dance :  an  old-fashioned  festival  dance. 


EDINBUEGH  AFTER  FLODDEN. 

This  poem  gives  the  Scottish  aspect  of  the  battle,  showing  the 
receipt  of  the  news  of  defeat. 

15.     This  was  a  popular  superstition  of  old. 

51.     riven,  torn. 

113.     Dunedin,  Edinburgh. 

166.  Southron  :  a  Scottish  term  for  Englishmen,  living  south  of 
the  border. 

225.    leaguer,  camp  :  the  same  word  as  the  Dutch  '  laager.' 

13—2 


196  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

William  Edmonstoune  Aytoun  (1813 — 1865)  was  part-author  of 
the  Bon  Gaultier  Ballads,  an  admirable  book  of  light  verse,  and 
author  of  Lays  of  the  Scottish  Cavaliers,  whence  this  poem  and  The 
Burial  March  of  Dundee  (p.  141)  are  taken. 


DICE   0'  THE   COW. 

This  traditional  ballad  is  representative  of  a  number  of  fine  heroic 
ballads  of  the  Border  between  England  and  Scotland,  many  centring 
round  Liddesdale,  a  long  valley  running  north-east  from  above 
Carlisle  and  containing  the  Liddel  river.  The  Armstrong  family 
in  particular  were  notorious  cattle-raiders  and  freebooters,  and 
Johnnie  has  a  ballad  to  himself. 

The  '  Cow '  in  '  Dickie's '  name  does  not  refer  to  cattle,  as  the 
Scottish  form  of  that  is  '  ky, '  '  Cow '  probably  means  '  brush '  or 
'  broom ' :  see  1.  35. 

2.  riding  means  riding  out  to  steal  cattle,  or  raiding. 

3.  lidder,  lazy. 

6.  Billie  is  not  a  proper  name  here :  'billie'  is  Scottish  for  brother, 
and  it  is  the  same  word  as  '  bully,'  used  by  Shakespeare  of  Bottom 
the  weaver  in  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream.     Cf .  1.  74. 

7.  feed,  feud. 

18.  know,  knoll,  hill. 

31.  he,  of  course,  is  Dick  o'  the  Cow. 

32.  i.e.  cease  your  crying. 
52.  sta'= stole. 

54.     Eairibee,  the  place  of  execution  in  Carlisle. 
57.     at  =  from:  so  constantly  with  verbs  of  asking. 

61.  Puddinbum  is  said  to  have  been  a  house  in  the  middle  of 
Liddesdale. 

62.  dree,  endure,  hold  out. 

81.  his  burden  of  batts,  all  the  blows  he  can  bear.     This  verse 

has  an  extra  Hue  in  it  for  some  reason. 

85.  hough=hock,  heel. 

87.  dought,  was  able. 

93.  mense,  pen,  house. 

96.  Mangertoun  is  another  house  in  Liddesdale. 

98.  aevery,  ravenous. 
104.     St.  Mary  knot,  a  triple  knot. 


NOTES  197 

130.  Jack,  jerkin.     Cf.  Sir  Andrew  Barton,  1.  255. 

131.  hang  leugh,  hung  low. 

137.  Cannobie  is  near  the  lower  end  of  Liddesdale. 

141.  mo,  old  form  of  '  more.'     Cf.  Sir  Andrew  Barton,  1.  172. 

143.  lee-lang,  livelong ;  the  whole  (day), 

158.  blan,  stopped. 

IGl.  plummet,  pommel. 

1G4.  GTa.m.eTcie=gra7id  merci,  great  thanks. 

186.  gart  =  garred,  made,  caused. 

187.  limmer,  rascal. 

224.    and  =  if.     Cf.  1.  241,  and  often  elsewhere. 
238.    lap  a  loup,  leapt  a  leap. 
289.    leugh, laughed. 

EARL  BOTHWELL. 

The  ballad-maker,  obviously  a  supporter  of  Darnley,  represents 
that  the  'king'  (Darnley)  was  murdered  by  way  of  revenge  for  his 
participation  in  the  murder  of  David  Riccio,  the  Queen's  favourite, 
here  called  '  Lord  David.'  He  also  says  that  Mary  sent  for  Darnley 
to  come  to  Scotland,  and  that  she  was  'bitterly  banished'  by  the 
Eegent  Murray.  The  ballad  therefore  cannot  be  taken  as  historically 
accurate. 

1.  Woe  worth  thee  =  woe  be  to  thee. 

2.  sleight,  trick. 

10.    i.e.  to  be  above  lords. 

12.  This  is  a  proverb,  signifying  that  privileges  have  their  draw- 
backs, or  that  one  has  to  pay  the  price  of  exalted  rank. 

19.     And  tho' =  even  though. 

24.     Some  accounts  say  that  Eiccio  received  fifty  wounds. 

30.    rushes  were  formerly  strewn  on  floors  in  place  of  carpets. 

33.     boun,  ready.     Cf.  Durham  Field,  1.  8. 

37.    lope,  leapt. 

39.  BothweU :  James  Hepburn,  Earl  of  Bothwell,  Queen  Mary's 
second  husband,  either  himself  slew  Darnley,  or  ordered  him  to  be 
slain,  as  he  was  trying  to  escape  after  the  explosion  of  gunpowder 
from  a  house  called  Kirk  o'  Field,  near  Edinburgh.  How  far  Mary 
was  privy  to  the  plot  is  disputed;  but  certainly  she  married  Bothwell 
shortly  afterwards. 

50.     deemedst :  deem  is  an  older  form  of  doom. 


198  BALLADS  AND   POEMS 


THE   RISING  IN  THE   NORTH. 

This  ballad  gives  only  an  imperfect  account  of  the  rebellion  in 
1569  of  the  Earls  of  Northumberland  and  Westmoreland,  with 
Richard  Norton,  sheriff  of  York,  and  others,  in  support  of  Mary, 
then  in  prison  at  Tutbury,  and  in  opposition  to  Queen  Elizabeth. 
On  14  November,  they  entered  Durham  Cathedral,  tore  up  the 
Enghsh  Bible  and  Prayer-book,  and  said  mass.  A  month  later 
they  were  met  at  Wetherby  by  an  English  army  under  the  Earls 
of  Warwick  and  Clinton,  and  fled  without  fighting. 

1,  2.  This  is  a  characteristic  opening  of  old  ballads  and  romances. 
Lithe,  attend. 

28.     borrow,  hostage,  security. 

44.  blan :  from  blin,  to  linger.  Cf.  1.  136,  and  Dick  o'  the  Cow, 
1.  158. 

61.  I  wis:  the  old  English  i-wis  =  surely,  was  later  on  confused 
with  I  wiss,  a  mistaken  form  of  I  wot  —  1  know. 

69.     hlght,  promised. 

61.  Gramercy=firrand  merci,  great  thanks.  Cf.  Dick  o'  the 
Cow,  1.  164. 

65.  Richard  Norton  had  eleven  sons,  seven  of  whom  engaged  in 
the  rebellion,  and  eight  daughters.  Francis,  the  eldest  son,  as  a 
matter  of  fact  took  a  prominent  part,  though  Christopher  was  the 
most  ardent.     It  was  rather  William  who  refused  to  rebel. 

89.    wend,  go. 

92.  dee  :  northern  form  of  die. 

93.  Norton  was  seventy-one  years  of  age  at  the  time. 
101.     ancient,  ensign  :  see  Durham  Field,  1.  158. 

103.  One  greyhound's  head  appears  on  the  Nevilles'  banner,  with 
a  dun  bull. 

114.  Sir  George  Bowes  surrendered  Barnard  Castle  on  12  De- 
cember. 

121.  leave:  see  note  on  Durham  Field,  1.  23. 

136.  stint,  stopped :  blan,  see  1.  44. 

146.  ruth,  pity. 


NOTES  199 


MARY   AMBREE. 

There  is  no  historical  foundation  known  for  this  exploit,  which  is 
supposed  to  have  taken  place  at  the  siege  of  Ghent  in  1584.  The 
ballad  became  very  popular,  and  Ben  Jonson  constantly  refers  to  it, 
Kudyard  Kipling  has  taken  the  title  of  one  of  his  books  from  the  first 
line. 

2.     Gaunt,  Ghent,  in  Flanders. 

5.  Sir  Jolin  Major  is  unknown.  Possibly  the  words  are  a  cor- 
ruption of  '  sergeant-major.' 

BRAVE   LORD  WILLOUGHBY. 

It  is  impossible  to  say  with  certainty  to  what  '  fight '  this  song 
refers,  but  it  may  perhaps  refer  to  the  battle  of  Zutphen,  where  Sir 
Philip  Sidney  lost  his  life,  in  1586.     Lord  Willoughby  died  in  1601. 

8.  Lord  Willoughby  was  Peregrine  Bertie,  who  inherited  the  title 
of  Baron  Willoughby  of  Eresby  from  his  mother. 

9.  Sir  John  Norris,  by  whose  side  Lord  Willoughby  fought  in 
several  engagements  in  the  Netherlands. 

11.  Turner  was  also  a  well-known  soldier  in  the  Low  Countries. 
21.     caliver,  gun. 

38.     savourly,  with  good  appetite. 
55.     stout,  bold. 

THE  ARMADA. 

5.     The  exact  date  was  30  July. 

7.  Aurigny's  isle;  the  French  name  for  Alderney,  one  of  the 
Channel  Islands. 

12.  Edgecumbe  :  Mount  Edgecumbe  is  west  of  Plymouth  Sound. 
14.     post,  messenger. 

16.     halberdiers,  men  carrying  a  long-handled  axe. 

21 — 2.  A  description  of  the  English  standard  ;  the  gay  lilies  are 
the  lilies  of  France. 

23.  Picard  field,  Crepy.  The  next  line  refers  to  John  of  Bohemia, 
the  Genoese  crossbow-men,  and  Charles,  afterwards  Emperor. 

30.  semper  eadem  (  =  always  the  same)  was  Queen  EUzabeth's 
motto. 


200  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

35.  Eddystone,  a  rock  now  bearing  a  famous  and  important 
light-house,  off  Plymouth  ;  Berwick  on  the  Scotch  border ;  Lynn, 
King's  Lynn  in  Norfolk;   Milford  Bay  in  South  Wales. 

38.     Saint  Michael's  Mount  in  Cornwall ;  Beacliy  Head  in  Sussex, 

41.  The  chain  of  signal-fires  proceeds  from  Devon  and  Somerset 
(Longleat  is  near  Frome)  to  Wiltshire,  Dorsetshiie,  and  Hampshire. 

46.  There  is  a  gap  in  the  chain  here,  as  Richmond  could  not  see 
beacons  either  at  Clifton  or  Beaulieu. 

65.  Darwin  probably  means  the  Derwent  in  the  Peak  District  of 
Derbyshire. 

71.  Belvoir,  the  seat  of  the  Duke  of  Rutland,  on  the  borders  of 
Lincolnshire  and  Leicestershire. 

73.  Gannt's  embattled  pile,  Lancaster  Castle,  rebuilt  by  John  of 
Gaunt,  Duke  of  Lancaster. 

Thomas  Babington,  Lord  Macaulay  (1800 — 1859)  was  chiefly  an 
historian  and  politician,  and  the  bulk  of  his  verse  is  not  large.  This 
splendid  fragment,  which  was  no  doubt  an  experiment  suggested  by 
a  similar  description  of  a  chain  of  beacons  in  the  Agamemnon  of 
Aeschylus,  illustrates  his  mastery  of  the  use  of  proper  names. 

THE   DEFEAT   OF  THE   SPANISH  ARMADA. 

This  is  a  seventeenth-century  song  illustrative  of  the  general 
rejoicings  caused  by  the  defeat  of  the  Armada.  It  was  sung  to  the 
tune  of  'Jog  on,  jog  on,'  a  verse  of  which  is  sung  by  Autolycus  in 
Shakespeare's  Winter's  Tale,  Act  iv,  Scene  2. 

3.     The  Armada  left  Lisbon  at  the  end  of  May. 

7.    bravado,  boast. 

13.  Don  Pedro  means  the  Duke  of  Medina  Sidonia. 

14.  the  Knight  of  the  Sun  was  the  hero  of  an  old  romantic  tale, 
translated  from  Spanish. 

48.     speed,  fare,  suffer. 

THE  FAME   OF   SIR  FRANCIS   DRAKE. 

This  little  contemporary  poem  is  included  for  the  sake  of  the 
quaint  suggestion  in  the  last  couplet.  Drake  began  his  famous 
voyage  of  circumnavigation  in  1577,  and  travelling  from  east  to 
west,  like  the  sun,  arrived  home  in  1580.  The  sun  therefore  over- 
took and  passed  '  his  fellow-traveller '  more  than  a  thousand  times  1 


NOTES  201 


CAPTAIN   WARD   AND   THE   RAINBOW. 

Captain  John  Ward  was  a  'rover'  or  pirate  from  about  1604 — 1609. 
The  Rainbow  was  the  name  of  one  of  the  ships  taken  by  Drake  in  the 
expedition  to  Cadiz  in  1587.  The  incidents  in  the  ballad  lack 
authority. 

89 — 93.  The  king  regrets  the  loss  of  George  Clifford,  Earl  of 
Cumberland;  Charles  Blount,  Lord  Mountjoy;  and  Robert  Devereux, 
Earl  of  Essex,  already  referred  to  in  1.  71. 

WHEN   THE   KING  ENJOYS   HIS   OWN  AGAIN. 

A  famous  Jacobite  song,  sung  to  a  still  more  famous  tune  (which 
was  also  used  by  Hanoverians  in  later  years),  it  first  supported  the 
interests  of  Charles  I,  then  encouraged  the  Cavaliers,  promoted  the 
Eestoration  of  Charles  II,  and  after  1688  was  the  mainstay  of  the 
adherents  of  the  exiled  family. 

1.  Booker,  with  Pond,  Rivers,  Swallow,  Dove,  and  Dade  below, 
were  astrologers  and  makers  of  almanacs  containing  prophecies  for 
the  year. 

31.     This  line  dates  the  song  to  1643. 

Martin  Parker  was  one  of  the  most  prominent  ballad-writers  of 
the  seventeenth  century,  who  got  their  living  by  writing  verses,  on 
popular  subjects,  printed  as  '  broadsides '  and  hawked  about  the 
streets.     Very  little  is  known  of  his  life. 

SIR  NICHOLAS   AT   MARSTON  MOOR. 

The  battle  was  fought  2  July,  1644,  Prince  Rupert  and  Newcastle 
leading  the  Royalist  army  against  a  larger  one  under  Cromwell,  who 
won  a  decisive  victory. 

3.    Lucas ;  Sir  Charles  Lucas  led  a  division  of  Royalists. 

16.  Fairfax  held  the  right  wing  of  Cromwell's  army,  both  foot 
and  horse. 

21.     Cf.  The  Battle  of  Naseby,  I.  12. 

52.  William  LenthaU  was  Speaker  of  the  House  of  Commons. 
Hugh  Peters  was  an  army- chaplain  and  preacher. 

Winthrop  Mackworth  Praed  (1802 — 1839)  was  a  writer  of  graceful 
and  charming  verse  in  various  styles. 

13—5 


202  BALLADS  AND  POEMS 


THE  BATTLE   OF  NASEBY. 

Naseby,  fought  14  June,  1645,  was  the  final  defeat  of  Charles  I, 
and  another  success  for  Cromwell  and  his  son-in-law  Ireton. 

11.  The  Maji  of  Blood,  Charles  I. 

12.  Astley  and  Sir  Marmaduke  Langdale  were  in  command  of 
bodies  of  cavalry. 

25.  Kupert's  charge  broke  the  left  wing  of  the  Parliamentary 
army  under  Ireton,  but  the  Prince  went  too  far  in  pursuit,  as  he 
had  done  at  Edge  Hill. 

29.  Skippon  led  the  infantry  in  the  centre  of  Cromwell's  army, 
and  was  hard  pressed ;  but  Cromwell  came  to  his  assistance  from  the 
right  wing. 

43.    broad-pieces,  money. 

46.     lemans,  an  old  English  word  for  sweethearts. 

57.     she  of  the  seven  hills :  Eome,  built  on  seven  hills. 


ON   THE   LORD   GENERAL  FAIRFAX  AT  THE 
SIEGE   OF   COLCHESTER. 

Sir  Thomas  Fairfax  was  the  general-in-chief  of  the  Parliamentary 
army,  and  when  the  Royalists  attempted  further  risings,  two  years 
after  the  overthrow  of  Charles  I,  Fairfax  laid  siege  to  Colchester  and 
took  it,  28  August,  1648,  thus  ending  the  most  important  of  such 
disturbances. 

3.     This  is  exaggerated  praise,  though  Fairfax  was  very  successful. 

7.  Hydra  :  one  of  the  labours  of  Hercules  was  to  slay  the  Hydra, 
a  monster  with  a  hundred  heads,  whose  quality  was  such  that  two 
more  sprang  up  for  each  one  cut  off.     Cf.  The  Fire  of  London,  1.  93. 

8.  imp  :  a  term  used  in  falconry  to  mean  the  mending  of  a  bird's 
wing  artificially. 

13.  fraud :  a  reference  to  the  suspected  misappropriation  of 
public  moneys  by  a  section  of  the  Parliamentarians. 

John  Milton  (1608 — 1674),  England's  second  greatest  poet,  wrote 
very  little  of  his  poetry  during  the  twenty  years  of  civil  war  and 
disturbance,  but  a  great  deal  of  controversial  matter  in  beautiful  if 
faulty  prose. 


NOTES  203 

AN  HORATIAN  ODE  UPON  CROMWELL'S 
RETURN   FROM   IRELAND. 

This  ode  is  called  Horatian  on  account  of  the  resemblance  of  its 
literary  form  to  the  odes  of  Horace.  Cromwell  returned  from  Ireland 
in  May,  1650. 

4.  numbers,  verses.  Cf.  '  I  am  ill  at  these  numbers,'  Hamlet,  n.  2 ; 
and  Longfellow's  Psalm  of  Life,  'Tell  me  not  in  mournful  numbers.' 

15.     thorough  :  see  note  on  Durham  Field,  1.  199. 

18.    emulous,  jealous. 

23.     Caesar  means  the  King. 

32.    bergamot,  a  kind  of  pear-tree. 

46.  i.e.  where  did  not  Cromwell  inflict  the  heaviest  blow? 

47.  Hampton  refers  to  the  King's  stay  at  Hampton  Court  during 
1647,  whence  he  fled  to  the  Isle  of  Wight  and  became  a  prisoner  in 
Carishrook  Castle. 

66.    assured,  made  secure. 

67 — 72.  This  refers  to  a  legend  of  ancient  Kome.  When  the 
foundations  were  being  dug  for  a  temple  on  the  Capitol,  the  workmen, 
it  was  said,  saw  a  human  head,  which  was  supposed  to  be  prophetic 
of  the  future  success  of  the  city. 

79.  The  Irish  did  not  consider  Cromwell's  treatment  'just,'  or 
even  justifiable. 

87.     what  he  may,  as  far  as  he  can. 

104.  climacteric  here  means  dangerous,  or  critical.  Derived  from 
the  Greek  word  for  a  '  step'  in  a  ladder,  it  originally  mesint periodical ; 

.  and  thence  it  was  applied  to  recurrent  diseases,  or  periods  of  life 
which  were  supposed  to  be  dangerous. 

105.  Pict :  the  early  inhabitants  of  Scotland  were  so  called. 
Andrew  Marvell  (1621—1678),  member  of  Parliament  for  Hull, 

a  friend  of  Milton,  and  an  admirer  of  Cromwell,  wrote  most  of  his 
poetry  in  the  first  half  of  his  life.  Later  he  became  an  ardent 
politician,  and  wrote  violent  satire. 

TO   CROMWELL. 

Milton  addressed  this  sonnet  to  Cromwell  in  the  year  after  the 
•  crowning  mercy '  of  his  victory  at  Worcester,  3  September,  1651, 
and  the  year  before  the  end  of  the  Long  Parliament,  1653. 


204  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

7.  Darwen  :  a  stream  flowing  into  the  Eibble  in  Lancashire,  near 
which  the  invading  Scots  under  the  Duke  of  Hamilton  had  been 
routed  in  1648,  in  the  battle  of  Preston. 

8.  Dunbar,  near  North  Berwick,  was  the  scene  of  another  victory 
of  Cromwell's  in  1650. 

12,  The  emphasised  word  is  souls.  Milton  hints  to  Cromwell 
that  after  his  conquests  under  arms  he  must  enter  into  rehgious 
conflict  with  the  intolerant  Presbyterians,  whom  Milton  calls  '  hire- 
ling wolves.' 

THE   FIRE   OF  LONDON. 

This  calamity  took  place  in  September,  1666,  the  fire  burning  for 
three  days. 

2.  France  and  Holland :  the  struggle  with  the  Dutch,  due  to 
commercial  rivalry,  had  been  going  on  for  five  years  when  in  1665 
they  called  on  Louis  XIV  of  France  to  assist  them.  Engagements 
took  place  off  the  mouth  of  the  Thames,  in  which  the  English  were 
eventually  successfiil. 

22.  It  began  in  a  baker's  shop,  in  Pudding  Lane,  near  New  Fish 
Street. 

23.  All  the  City  from  the  Tower  to  Temple  Bar  was  destroyed, 
including  old  St  Paul's  Cathedral. 

45.     letted,  hindered. 

49.  Traitors'  heads,  after  execution,  were  fixed  on  London 
Bridge. 

74.  The  fate  of  Simois ;  Simois  is  a  mistake  for  Xanthus  or 
Scamander,  a  river  that  was  dried  up  by  Hephaestus  for  trying  to 
drown  Achilles.     See  Homer's  Iliad,  Book  xxi. 

101.  The  fire  began  to  abate  on  the  evening  of  the  5th  of 
September. 

114.  The  fire  was  undoubtedly  beneficial  in  the  event  to  the  city 
of  London ;  and  the  subsequent  widening  of  the  streets  helped  to 
banish  the  dreaded  Plague  from  England. 

John  Dryden  (1631—1700),  poet  laureate  1670—1700,  was  both 
poet,  dramatist,  and  critic.  As  poet  and  essayist  he  stands  head 
and  shoulders  above  his  contemporaries,  and  very  high  in  English 
literature;  but  his  plays  are  not  so  distinguished.  This  piece  is 
extracted  from  a  longer  poem  called  Annus  Mirabilis,  a  history  in 
verse  of  the  eventful  year  1666. 


NOTES  205 

THE   SONG   OF  THE  WESTERN   MEN. 

Lines  6—8  of  this  poem  have  been  proverbial  in  Cornwall  ever 
since  James  II  in  1688  imprisoned  the  Seven  Bishops,  one  of  whom 
was  Sir  Jonathan  Trelawney. 

11.  Michael's  hold,  Saint  Michael's  Mount,  in  Cornwall  (see 
The  Armada,  1.  38). 

13.  Tamar,  the  river  dividing  Cornwall  from  Devonshire  (see 
The  Armada,  1.  41). 

Eobert  Stephen  Hawker  (1803—1875)  wrote  several  volumes  of 
verse.  This  poem,  based  on  three  traditional  lines  (see  above),  was 
first  printed  anonymously  in  a  newspaper,  which  led  to  its  being 
taken  for  the  original  traditional  poem  ;  and  as  such  it  deceived  Sir 
Walter  Scott,  Lord  Macaulay,  and  Charles  Dicken^  who  all  praised 
it.     Hawker  wrote  it  in  1825. 

THE  BURIAL  MARCH  OF  DUNDEE. 

John  Graham  (or  Graeme),  formerly  Claverhouse  and  then 
Viscount  Dundee,  gathered  the  Highland  clans  round  him  and  rose 
against  William  and  Mary  and  on  behalf  of  James  II,  in  1689.  He 
was  met  by  William's  general,  Mackay,  in  the  Pass  of  Killiecrankie, 
on  27  July ;  and  the  Highlanders  from  a  commanding  position  swept 
the  English  down  the  pass. 

24.  Montrose,  another  Graham,  the  first  to  discover  the  capacity 
of  the  Highlanders  for  war. 

28.  Schehallion,  the  mountain  overlooking  the  Pass  of  Killie- 
crankie. 

36.  On  3  May,  1679,  the  Archbishop  of  St  Andrews  was  murdered 
by  Covenanters  on  Magua  Muir,  near  St  Andrews. 

91.     slogan,  war-cry. 

ADMIRAL  BENBOW. 

1.  Admiral  John  Benbow  (1653 — 1702)  was  cruising  in  the  West 
Indies,  not  Virginia  nor  Fayal  (which  is  in  the  Azores),  when  on 
19  August  he  sighted  a  French  squadron. 

3.  The  English  ships  were  seven  in  number,  the  French  nine,  of 
which  four  were  men-of-war,  one  a  transport,  and  four  small  frigates. 


206  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

13.  The  engagement  lasted  from  21  August  to  the  24th,  the 
morning  on  which  Benbow's  right  leg  was  shattered  by  a  chain-shot. 

19.  Benbow,  on  the  contrary,  insisted  on  being  carried  up,  after 
his  wound  was  dressed,  to  the  quarter-deck. 

23.  Benbow  died  at  Port  Eoyal  and  was  buried  at  Kingston,  in 
Jamaica,  in  November,  1702. 


AFTER   BLENHEIM. 

This  poem  is  a  satire  both  on  the  horrors  of  war  in  general,  and 
on  the  far-reaching  causes  of  this  battle  in  particular,  which  was  the 
greatest  in  the  war  of  the  Spanish  Succession.  The  English  under 
the  Duke  of  Marlborough,  with  their  Austrian  allies  under  Prince 
Eugene,  defeated  the  French  and  Bavarians  at  Blenheim  in  1704. 

23.  The  English  and  their  allies  lost  5000  men,  and  the  French 
many  more. 

Eobert  Southey  (1774—1843),  poet  laureate  from  1813—1843, 
was  during  his  hfe  associated  with  Coleridge  and  Wordsworth,  who 
succeeded  him  in  the  laureateship ;  but  he  is  now  under-rated.  Other 
well-known  poems  of  his  are  How  the  water  comes  down  at  Lodore, 
The  Inchcape  Bock,  and  Bishop  Hatto. 


THE  VICAR   OF    BRAY. 

A  certain  Canon  of  Windsor  is  said  to  have  been  Vicar  of  Bray, 
near  Maidenhead,  from  1540  to  1588,  and  to  have  been  a  Papist  under 
Henry  VIII,  a  Protestant  under  Edward  VI,  a  Papist  again  under 
Mary,  and  a  Protestant  again  under  Elizabeth.  This  gave  rise  to 
a  proverb,  '  The  Vicar  of  Bray  will  be  Vicar  of  Bray  still.'  This  song, 
which  is  said  to  have  been  written  by  a  soldier  in  the  reign  of  George  I, 
does  not  record  history  so  much  as  illustrate  the  continued  change  of 
religious  and  political  opinion  in  England  from  the  time  of  the  Stuarts 
to  the  Hanoverians. 


A  BALLAD   OF  THE   BOSTON   TEA-PARTY. 

In  1770  Lord  North  caused  Parliament  to  abolish  all  duties  except 
that  on  tea,  which  he  acknowledged  he  retained  to  assert  England's 
right  to  tax  the  Colonies.     In  1773,  a  large  quantity  of  tea  arrived  in 


NOTES  207 

Boston  Harbour,  and  some  of  the  inhabitants  disguised  themselves  as 
Bed  Indians,  and  flung  the  whole  of  the  tea  overboard. 
63.     The  Dartmouth  was  one  of  the  tea-ships, 
82.     rock,  distaff  (a  Scottish  word). 

104.  Hyson,  the  name  of  a  once-familiar  brand  of  tea.  See  The 
Ingoldsby  Legends : 

But  I  and  my  son 

Mix  black  with  our  Hyson. 

THE  LOSS  OF  THE  ROYAL  GEORGE. 

The  Royal  George  of  108  guns  sank  in  the  Solent  off  Spithead  in 
1782. 

5.     The  number  drowned  was  over  900. 

7,  8.     The  ship  was  '  careened,'  or  laid  on  one  side,  for  repairs. 

22.  Admiral  Kempenfelt  was  writing  in  his  cabin  at  the  moment 
of  the  disaster. 

30.     The  ship  was  never  raised. 

THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BALTIC, 

In  1801  England  sent  a  fleet  under  Admiral  Sir  Hyde  Parker,  with 
Nelson  second  in  command,  into  the  Baltic  to  intimidate  the  alliance 
known  as  the  Armed  Neutrality,  one  of  whose  objects  was  the  dimi- 
nution of  the  English  domination  of  the  sea.  The  fleet  first  demanded 
that  the  Danes  should  leave  the  Alliance,  and  on  their  refusal  attacked 
Copenhagen,  the  capital  of  Denmark. 

1.  Nelson  was  in  the  forefront  of  the  attack.  It  was  here  that 
the  traditional  episode  occurred  of  his  putting  a  telescope  to  his  blind 
eye,  and  thus  pretending  not  to  see  the  recall  signal  issued  by  his  less 
confident  superior,  Parker. 

10.  leviathans :  a  vague  term,  used  for  marine  monsters,  generally 
whales. 

63.  Elsinore  (Helsingfors)  is  a  fort  commanding  the  approach  by 
sea  to  Copenhagen.    It  is  the  scene  of  Shakespeare's  Hamlet. 

67.     Riou  was  the  name  of  a  captain  kiUed  in  the  battle. 

Thomas  Campbell  (1777 — ISii)  is  now  chiefly  remembered  by  two 
or  three  songs  of  war,  including  this  one  and  Ye  Mariners  of  England 
(see  p.  162 j.  They  are  noticeable  on  account  of  their  original  metres, 
cleverly  managed  by  the  poet. 


208  BALLADS  AND  POEMS 


CHARACTER  OF   THE   HAPPY  WARRIOR. 

Wordsworth  himself  says  that  this  poem,  which  does  not  specifi- 
cally refer  to  Nelson,  was  inspired  by  the  thought  of  him.  It  was 
written  in  1806 ;  Nelson  died  at  the  battle  of  Trafalgar  on  21  October, 
1805. 

4.  Notice  real  is  two  syllables,  which  is  the  proper  pronunciation, 
and  formerly  was  always  used. 

19,  20.    to  abate  her  feeling,  to  become  callous. 

29.  This  means  '  where  men  are  tempted  to  guard  against  ill  by 
evil  measures,  and  (1.  31)  even  what  they  do  well,  or  to  a  good  end,  is 
based  on  wrong,  he  (the  Happy  Warrior)  bases  good  on  good.' 

43.    they  means  '  wealth  and  honours.' 

59.  bias :  a  metaphor  from  the  game  of  bowls.  The  bowls 
contain  a  weight,  which  makes  them  roll  not  in  a  straight  line. 

68.     toward,  favourable. 

85.     The  whole  poem  consists  of  two  sentences. 

William  Wordsworth  (1770—1850),  poet  laureate  1843—1850 
(succeeding  Southey,  see  notes  on  After  Blenheivi,  p.  206),  is  usually 
put  with  Coleridge  at  the  head  of  the  literary  revolt  from  artificiality 
and  the  '  return  to  nature '  which  marked  the  close  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  Unequal  in  his  poetry,  he  occasionally  attained  the  heights 
of  true  inspiration  and  poetic  diction,  and  is  always  an  interesting 
and  stimulating  poet  to  read. 


YE  MARINERS  OF  ENGLAND. 

Another  fine  song  of  Thomas  Campbell's  (see  notes  on  The  Battle 
of  the  Baltic).  It  was  founded  on  a  seventeenth-century  song,  be- 
ginning : 

You  gentlemen  of  England 
WTio  live  at  home  at  ease. 

Again  notice  the  fine  effect  produced  by  Campbell's  ingenious 
variation  of  the  pause  in  the  seventh  line  of  each  verse. 

6.     This  probably  refers  to  Kussia's  declaration  of  war  in  1807. 

15.  Blake  destroyed  a  fleet  of  Spain  in  the  harbour  of  TenerifEe, 
in  the  Canary  Islands,  20  April,  1657.  He  died  in  the  same  year, 
but  not  in  battle. 


NOTES  209 


THE   BURIAL   OF  SIR   JOHN   MOORE   AT    CORUNNA. 

Sir  John  Moore,  in  the  winter  of  1808 — 9,  was  driven  into  the 
north-west  corner  of  Spain  by  Marshals  Soult  and  Ney,  acting  under 
Napoleon's  instructions  '  to  drive  him  into  the  sea.'  He  stood  at  bay 
at  Corunna  on  the  coast,  waiting  for  ships  to  take  his  army  off.  They 
arrived  on  15  January,  1809,  and  Moore  embarked  all  but  the  soldiers. 
The  next  day  the  French  attacked  in  force,  but  were  repulsed,  though 
Moore  lost  his  life. 

2.    It  was  Moore's  own  wish  to  be  buried  where  he  fell. 

9.    No  coffin  could  be  procured. 

27.  The  burial-party  were  alarmed  by  firing  at  about  eight  in  the 
morning. 

Charles  Wolfe  (1791 — 1823),  an  obscure  Irish  clergyman,  wrote 
this  famous  poem  at  some  time  between  1812  and  1815  while  at 
Trinity  College,  DubUn.  It  is  remarkable  not  only  for  its  own  merit, 
but  for  the  facts  that  Wolfe  wrote  hardly  anything  else,  and  that  the 
authorship  was  claimed  by  and  attributed  to  a  number  of  people, 
including  Lord  Byron. 

WATERLOO. 

1.  The  poem  opens  with  a  description  of  the  Duchess  of 
Eichmond's  baU  at  Brussels,  Belgium's  capital,  and  Wellington's 
headquarters,  on  15  June,  1815.  The  Duke  attended  the  ball, 
though  he  knew  of  Napoleon's  advance,  in  order  to  prevent  any 
alarm  being  given. 

18.  There  was  no  fighting  on  this  night,  nor  till  the  next  day ; 
so  this  description  is  imaginary. 

20.  Brunswick's  fated  chieftain,  the  Duke  of  Brunswick  was 
killed  at  Quatre  Bras  on  the  16th. 

46 — 7.  The  Camerons  were  the  79th  Begiment ;  Albjm's  hills 
means  the  Highlands. 

54.  Donald  Cameron  of  Lochiel  was  in  the  Jacobite  rebellion 
of  1745. 

68.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  battles  of  Ligny  and  Quatre  Bras  on 
the  16th  preceded  the  great  battle  of  Waterloo  on  the  18th. 

George  Gordon  Byron,  Lord  Byron  (1788 — 1824),  in  a  short, 
brilliant,  and  merry  life,  gained  an  immense  audience,  and  supplied 


210  BALLADS   AND   POEMS 

it  with  a  novel  form  of  romantic  verse-tales  and  dramas.  Only  at 
the  end  of  his  career  did  he  find  his  true  medium,  the  original  and 
liwely  medley  Don  Juan,  infinitely  his  greatest  contribution  to  literature. 


ENGLAND'S  DEAD. 

9.  This  refers  to  an  expedition  sent  in  1801  to  Egypt  to  drive  out 
the  French  army. 

39.  Roncesvalles,  in  the  Pyrenees,  where  Charlemagne  is  re- 
corded to  have  fought  the  Moors.  One  of  many  engagements 
between  French  and  English  in  1813  took  place  on  the  same  spot. 


VICTORIA'S   TEARS. 

Queen  Victoria  succeeded  to  the  throne  of  England  on  the  death 
of  William  IV  in  1837. 

4.     all  other :  i.e.  all  other  majesty. 

Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning  (1806 — 1861),  wife  of  the  poet  Bobert 
Browning,  was  gifted  with  true  poetical  intuition  and  imagination, 
but  her  poems  are  often  hampered  by  her  lack  of  a  musical  ear  and 
of  range  of  expression.  Nevertheless  she  is  easily  the  first  of  English 
women  poets. 


ODE   ON   THE   DEATH   OF   THE   DUKE 
OF   WELLINGTON. 

The  Duke  of  Wellington  died  on  14  September,  1852.  The  poem 
was  written  within  a  week  of  his  death,  an  extraordinary  feat,  con- 
sidering the  high  level  to  which  it  attains. 

9.    He  was  buried  in  St  Paul's  Cathedral  (see  1.  49),  beside  Nelson. 

15.  Kepresentatives  of  every  European  army  attended  the  funeral, 
as  well  as  of  every  British  regiment. 

30.  Wellington's  life  falls  into  two  parts,  the  first  military,  the 
second  political. 

42.     i.e.  the  conqueror  of  Napoleon. 

80 — 2.     Supposed  to  be  spoken  by  Nelson,  the  '  mighty  Seaman.' 

99.  Wellington's  first  victory  was  at  the  battle  of  Assaye  in  1803, 
when  with  four  or  five  thousand  mcii  he  routed  60,000  Malnattas. 


NOTES  211 

101 — 118.  Wellington's  methods  and  success  in  the  Peninsular 
War  are  commemorated  in  these  lines.  Between  1809  and  1814  he 
drove  the  French  northwards  from  Lisbon  and  beyond  the  Pyrenees. 

119 — 133.  Napoleon,  banished  to  Elba  in  1814,  returned  in  1815, 
but  after  a  reign  of  two  or  three  months  was  finally  defeated  by 
Wellington  on  Sunday  ('  that  loud  Sabbath ')  18  June,  1815,  in  '  that 
world-earthquake,  Waterloo.' 

197.     horn  :  the  cornucopia,  or  horn  of  plenty. 

229.     He  was  popularly  called  '  The  Iron  Duke.' 

Alfred,  Lord  Tennyson  (1809 — 1892),  poet  laureate  in  succession 
to  Wordsworth  from  1850  till  his  death,  was  writing  poetry  the  whole 
of  his  life,  and,  unlike  many  poets,  continually  improving.  He  created 
a  new  and  most  musical  form  of  blank  verse,  wrote  many  beautiful 
lyrics,  and  throughout  handled  his  native  language  with  care  and 
success. 


THE   CHARGE   OF  THE   LIGHT   BRIGADE. 

Lnmediately  after  the  Charge  of  the  Heavy  Brigade,  an  order 
arrived  from  Lord  Raglan,  the  commander-in-chief,  that  the  cavalry, 
under  Lord  Cardigan,  were  to  recover  certain  guns  that  had  been 
abandoned  earlier  in  the  day.  The  officer  who  brought  the  order 
was  killed,  and  it  has  never  been  resolved  who  was  to  blame  for  the 
'blunder'  (1.  12). 

88.  Only  about  half  the  600  returned.  The  episode  illustrates 
a  not  unparalleled  feature  of  British  warfare,  a  blunder  of  organisation 
counterbalanced  by  personal  gallantry,  individual  or  collective.  The 
famous  phrase  '  C'est  magnifique,  mais  ce  n'est  pas  la  guerre,'  said  to 
have  been  used  on  this  occasion  by  a  French  general,  sums  up  the 
situation  neatly. 


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