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IBallatis ana Romances.
Vol. M.
LONDOi. : FEINTED BY
SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE
AND PARLIAMENT STREET
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BallaDe. anD Romance©.
EDITED BY
JOHN W. HALES, M.A.
.FELLOW AND LATE ASSISTANT-TUTOR OP CHRIST'S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE
AND
FREDERICK J. FURNIVALL, M.A.
OF TRINITY HALL, CAMBRIDGE.
(assisted by Prof. CHILD, of Harvard Univ., U.S. ; W. CHAPPELL, Esq., Sic. &c.)
>7oh M.
LONDON :
N. TRUBNER & CO., 60 PATERNOSTER ROW.
1868.
PREFACE
Corrections.
Preface, line 4, for Grey read Guy
Page xl ,, 1, for villan read villans
„ xlvii. The quotation, Sect. 189, is from Littleton translated
1, line 1, for wines read wiues
„ 18, 21, hulde means ' flay '
liv ,, 1, cut out be
„ 26, for English history read early history
lviii ,, 3, Redde quod debes belongs to line 2
note \for line 12 read page lxi, line 2
„ lix, line 21, for ser ued read seraed
lx „ 25, for saves read save
lxxi .. 2, /or Horn rrafl Horn
Percy Ballads, Vol. II.
selves as to his probable amount of alteration in the other parts.
The folio version of Bell my Wiffe — a ballad to which Shak-
spere's quotation of it in Othello has secured immortality — is
believed to be the earliest known ; and as it just filled a page
PREFACE
TO
THE SECOND VOLUME.
As the first volume was specially that of Arthur and Grawaine,
of Eobin Hood and his great compeer, now almost forgotten,
' Eandolph, Erl of Chestre,' so this second volume is specially
that of Sir Grey, who did such mighty deeds for England, and
the pathos of whose death in his hermit's cell near Warwick
has never yet been worthily sung.
But the Arthur and Grawaine stories are here continued in
The Grene Knight, the Boy and Mantle, and Libius Disconius ;
and we have besides, in the present volume, versions of some of
the best of our English ballads, Chevy Chase, Childe Waters,
Bell my Wife, Bessie off Bednall, &c. Of one of the best of
them, King Estmere, Percy's ruthless hands (p. 200, note) have
prevented us giving the MS. version of the folio. We have been
unable to find any other MS. or printed copy of this ballad, and
have therefore been obliged to put side by side in an appendix
Percy's two printed versions of it, with all their differences from
each other marked in italics, so that readers may judge for them-
selves as to his probable amount of alteration in the other parts.
The folio version of Bell my Wiffe — a ballad to which Shak-
spere's quotation of it in Othello has secured immortality — is
believed to be the earliest known ; and as it just filled a page
PREFACE
TO
THE SECOND VOLUME.
As the first volume was specially that of Arthur and Grawaine,
of Eobin Hood and his great compeer, now almost forgotten,
' Eandolph, Erl of Chestre,' so this second volume is specially
that of Sir Grey, who did such mighty deeds for England, and
the pathos of whose death in his hermit's cell near Warwick
has never yet been worthily sung.
But the Arthur and Grawaine stories are here continued in
The Grene Knight, the Boy and Mantle, and Libius Disconius ;
and we have besides, in the present volume, versions of some of
the best of our English ballads, Chevy Chase, Childe Waters,
Bell my Wife, Bessie off Bednall, &c. Of one of the best of
them, King Estmere, Percy's ruthless hands (p. 200, note) have
prevented us giving the MS. version of the folio. We have been
unable to find any other MS. or printed copy of this ballad, and
have therefore been obliged to put side by side in an appendix
Percy's two printed versions of it, with all their differences from
each other marked in italics, so that readers may judge for them-
selves as to his probable amount of alteration in the other parts.
The folio version of Bell my Wiffe — a ballad to which Shak-
spere's quotation of it in Othello has secured immortality — is
believed to be the earliest known ; and as it just filled a page
PREFACE TO THE SECOND VOLUME.
in the MS. it was chosen for photolithographing, and an im-
pression of it will be given with Vol. III. for Vol. I.
John de Reeue is (among other pieces) here printed for the
first time, and if it can be taken in any degree as a picture of
the bondman's condition at the time it represents, or even the
time it was written, it is of considerable historical value. At
any rate, it shows us a merry scene of early English life.
Conscience's tale is of a darker tint, but is valuable for its
sketch of the corruptions of its times. The other historical
ballads treat of fights and plots abroad and at home — of
Agincourt, Buckingham's Fall, the Siege of Cadiz, Durham
Field, Northumberland besieged by Douglas, &c. &c, — but
none of them are of more than average merit.
Mr. Hales has written all the Introductions, except those to
Coles Voyage (for which the Editors are indebted to Mr. John
Bruce, the Director of the Camden Society), to Earle Bodwell
(which is reprinted from the first edition of Bishop Percy's
Reliques), to Boy and Mantle (which is reprinted from Pro-
fessor Child's Ballads), and the following by Mr. Furnivall :
Come, Come ; Conscience ; Ac/incourte Battell; and Libius Dis-
conius. Mr. Hales has also written the Introductory Essay on
The Eevival of Ballad Poetry in the Eighteenth Century.
For the text Mr. Furnivall is, as before, mainly responsible,
and has to thank Mr. W. A. Dalziel for his help in reading the
copy and proof with the MS. The contractions of the MS. are
printed in italics in the text.
To the Eevs. Alexander Dyce, W. W. Skeat, J. Eoberts, and
Archdeacon Hale ; to Messrs. Chappell, Bruce, T. Wright,
Planche, and Jones, the Editors tender their thanks for help
in divers ways.
February 4, 1868.
CONTENTS
OF
THE SECOND VOLUME.
PAGE
THE REVIVAL OF BALLAD POETRY IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY . V
ON " BONDMAN," THE NAME AND THE CLASS . . . XXXlii
notes lxiii
CHEVY CHASE .......... 1
WHEN LOVE WITH UNCONFINED WINGS . . . . .17
CLORIS, FAREWELL, I NEEDS MUST GO . . . . .21
THE KINGE ENJOYES HIS RIGHTS AGAINE 24
THE jEGIPTIAN QUENE . . . . . . . .26
HOLLOWE, ME FANCYE ........ 30
NEWARKE .......... 33
AMONGST THE MIRTLES 35
THE WORLDE IS CHANGED, AND WEE HAVE CHOYCES ... 37
THE TRIBE OF BANBURYE ........ 39
AY ME, AY ME ! PORE SISLEY AND UNDONE ..... 43
FAINE WOLDE I CHANGE MY MAIDEN LIFE 46
WHEN FIRST I SAWE HER FACE ....... 48
HOW FAYRE SHEE BE ........ 50
COME, COME, COME, SHALL WEE MASQUE OR MUM ... 52
THE GRENE KNIGHT .56
SIR TRIAMORE .......... 78
GUYE AND AMARANT ......... 136
CALES VOYAGE 144
KINGE AND MILLER ......... 147
agincourte battell (see Appendix, p. 595) . . . .158
IV
CONTENTS OF THE SECOND VOLUME.
CONSCIENCE
PAGE
. 174
DURHAM FEILDE .....
. 190
GUT and phillis (for the beginning, see Af.
ipeiuli.c, p. 608) . . 201
JOHN A SIDE . .
. 203
RISINGE IN THE NORTHE ....
. 210
NORTHUMBERLAND BETRAYD BY DOWGLAS
. 217
GUYE OF GISBORNE
. 227
HEREFFORD AND NORFOLKE
. 238
LADYES FALL
. 246
BUCKINGAM BETRAYD BY BANISTER
. 253
EARLE BODWELL .....
. 260
BISHOPPE AND BROWNE ....
. 265
CHILDE WATERS ....
. 269
BESSIE OFF BEDNALL
. 279
HUGH SPENCER ....
. 290
KINGE ADLER
296
BOY AND MANTLE ....
301
WHITE ROSE AND RED
312
BELL MY WIFFE
320
I LIVE WHERE I LOVE . .
325
YOUNGE ANDREW ....
327
A JIGGE
334
EGLAMORE .....
338
THE EMPEROUR AND THE CHILDE
390
SITTINGE LATE .....
400
LIBIUS DISCONIUS ....
404
CHILDE MAURICE ....
500
PHILLIS HOE
507
GUY AND COLEBRANDE
509
JOHN DE REEVE ....
559
APPENDIX
595
TWO AGINCOURT BALLADS
595
king estmere (two versions, from the 1st and 4>th editions of
The Reliqu.es) ........ 600
guy and phillis (the first eleven stem
■MS of) 608
CORRIGENDA.
p. 9, 1. 68, for armour read armor,
p. 16, 1. 253, for and read &.
p. 23, 1. 9, for [and] read &.
p. 28, 1. 6, for with read with.
1. 22, for between read betweene.
p. 29, 1. 77, for thein read them,
p. 41, 1. 9, for up read vp.
p. 46, 1. 7, for bells read bell,
p. 60, note 6, for theye read they.
p. 63, 1. 134 ; p. 66, 1. 203, 215 ;for and read &.
p. 72, note 3 : the r has fallen out of the A. -Sax. Gram,
p. 77, note, col. 1, 1. 2 ;for missed. As read missed, as.
p. 140, 1. 109, add witt at the end of the line.
note l ,for Strowt yn read Strowtyn.
p. 159, 1. 7, for 1569 read 1659.
p. 164, note 2 ,for terme read tenne.
p. 254, 1. 12, for Robert read Richard.
p. 379, notes, col. 2, for "1867 " read " Babees Book, See. 1868."
N.B. The reading of the vol. with the MS. was stopt at p. 74 by the return of the
MS. to its owners.
THE REVIVAL OF BALLAD POETRY IN THE
EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.
The last century in England was in more respects than one a
valley of dry bones. About the middle of it, " they were very
many," and "they were very dry." Shortly afterwards, "behold, a
noise," and the bones began to come together. These signs of life
were followed by a growing animation. From the four quarters
came the wind, and breathed on the quickening mass. From
the north it came in its strength ; from the east and the west it
blew vigorously ; from the south it rushed with a wild furious
sweeping blast that changed the face of the valley. So at last
the century revived — its dull lack-lustre eyes brightened — its
stagnant pulse leapt — it lived.
I do not now propose to attempt a full description of this
mighty revival. But I propose confining myself to one par-
ticular feature of it — the appreciation of our older literature,
and especially of our ballad poetry. The century that had long
been fully satisfied with its own productions, at last recognised
that the English literature of ages that had preceded it was
not wholly barbarous. The century that had given up itself to
rules, and reduced the art of poetry to a mechanical trick, at
last acknowledged graces beyond the reach of its art. At last
it was brought to see that there were more things in heaven
and earth than were dreamt of in its philosophy.
It discovered that there were innumerable beauties around it
to which it had long been blind. It left its gardens and its
vol. ii. a
Vi THE REVIVAL OF BALLAD POETRY
elaborate manipulations of nature to see Nature herself. It
gave over refining the lily and gilding the rose to look at the
flowers in their simple beauty. It became conscious of the
exquisite beauties and glories of Switzerland, of the English
lakes, of Wales. New worlds of splendour, and of noble enjoy-
ment, dawned upon it. Not greater discoveries were made by
Columbus and his followers four centuries before than were
then made. The age, with all its self-complaisance, had been
living in a prison. The doors were thrown open, and it came
forth to feel and enjoy the fresh breezes and the gracious
sunshine. A huger, more dismal, more cramping Bastile than
that of Paris fell along with it. The age saw at the same time
that, besides the beauties of nature, there were beauties that
the art of former days had bequeathed it. It began to discern
the subtle loveliness of old cathedral churches that studded the
country. It had long eyed them with much disfavour. It had
sadly disfigured them with adornments of its own devising, and
according with its own notions. It had deplored them as
monstrous relics of a profound barbarism. But at last the
scales fell from its eyes, and it saw that these " tabernacles
of the Lord of Hosts " were " amiable." It awoke to their
supreme, lavish, refined beautifulness. So with respect to
other branches of Gothic art, other fruits of the old Bomantic
times, they came to a better appreciation of them. Poets and
poems that had for many a day been relegated to neglect and
oblivion, were more frankly and fairly valued. Voices that
had long been silenced or ignored began to find a hearing
and a heeding audience. As Greek literature was revived in
the fifteenth, so was Bomantic in the eighteenth.
A fair criterion of the progress of the century in the re-
cognition of the Bomantic age is its appreciation of Chaucer.
The most important event of the century regarding him is the
appearance of Tyrwhitt's edition of him in 1775. Then at last
IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. Vll
an attempt was made to vindicate his fame from the imputation
of rudeness ; to show that he, no less than the eighteenth-
century poets, had some sense of melody, some talent for
character-drawing, some power of language. Sp enser was more
readily and continuously accepted. The age sympathised with
the moralising part of his genius, and found pleasure in imi-
tating him. But, as I have said, I propose now considering
the history of our ballad poetry ; and to it I turn.
The most signal event regarding it is the publication of
Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry in 1765. Let us
see how the century was prepared, or had been preparing, for
that famous publication.
Our English ballads, though highly popular in the Elizabethan
age, as innumerable allusions to them in Shakespeare and the
other dramatists, and in the general literature of the time, show,
were yet never collected into any volume, save in Garlands,
till the year 1723. They wandered up and down the country
without even sheepskins or goatskins to protect them. They
flew about like the birds of the air, and sung songs dear to the
heart of the common people — songs whose power was sometimes
confessed by the higher classes, but not so thoroughly appreciated
as to induce them to exert themselves for their preservation.
i
They were looked down upon as things that were very good in
their proper place, but which must not be admitted into higher
society. They were admired in a condescending manner. They
were much better than could be expected. But no one thought
of them as popular lyrics of great intrinsic value. No one put
forth a hand to save them from perishing. The custom of
covering the walls of houses with them that happily prevailed
in the seventeenth century did something for their preservation.
So secured, they had a better chance of keeping a place in
men's memories, and meeting some day appreciative eyes.
Towards the end of the said century were made one or two
a 2
viii THE REVIVAL OF BALLAD POETRY
collections of the broad sheets containing them. The black-
letter literature of the people was collected rather for its
curiousness than its power or beauty, by antiquaries rather
than by poets or enjoyers of poetry. Whatever their motives,
let us praise Wood and Harley, Selden 1 and Pepys, Rawlinson,
Douce, and Bagford, for their services in gathering together
and protecting the frail outcasts from destruction. They were
as great benefactors of the old ballads as Captain Coram was of
foundlings. Be their names glorified !
There can be no doubt that the powerful mind of Dryden
justly appreciated the strength of our old literature, although
he so far bows before the spirit of his age as to deface it for
the reception of that age. Even when he revised and spoiled
Chaucer's works, he felt the power of them. But he resigned
his own judgment to that of his contemporaries. This Sam-
son in his captivity consented to make merry and carouse
with his captors — to translate the songs he loved into the
Philistine dialect. He had a fine appreciation of the old
ballads. "I have heard," says a Spectator, "that the late
Lord Dorset, who had the greatest wit tempered with the
greatest candour, and was one of the finest critics as well as
the best poets of his age, had a numerous collection of old
English ballads, and took a particular pleasure in the reading
of them. I can affirm the same of Mr. Dryden, and know
several of the most refined writers of our present age who are
of the same humour." He is, I think, the first collector of
poems who conceded to popular ballads their due place, — who
admitted them into the society of other poems — poems by the
most Eminent Hands, — who perceived their excellence, and
welcomed them accordingly. To other collectors of that date
it was as disgraceful to a poem as to a man to have no father,
1 Tradition says that Pepys " borrowed " a part of his Collection from Selden,
and forgot to return it. — W. C.
IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. IX
or to be suspected of a common origin. Dryden rose above
this prejudice. He showed one or two ballads the same hospi-
tality as he extended to the poetasters of Oxford and Cambridge,
whose name was Legion at this time. In the Miscellany Poems,
edited by him, of which the first volume appeared in 1684, the
last in 1708, eight years after his death, are to be found " Little
Musgrave and the Lady Bernard," certainly one of the most
vigorous ballads in our language ; " Chevy Chase, " with a
rhyming Latin translation ; " Johnnie Armstrong," " Gilderoy,"
"The Miller and the King's Daughters." But the evil that men
do lives after them. Dryden, in his " Knight's Tale " and other
works, had set the fashion of imitating and modernising our old
poems. That fashion survived him. For more than half a
century after his death, with the exception of the insertion of
two or three in Playford's 1 Wit and Mirth, or Pills to purge
Melancholy, and of the Collection of Old Ballads above referred
to, we have produced in England imitations or adaptations of
ballads — no faithful reprint of the genuine thing. The wine
that the age had given it to drink was a miserable dilution, or
only coloured water. Conspicuous amongst these imitators or
adapters were Parnell, Prior, and Tickell. But there were two
men in Queen Anne's time who had a genuine relish for old
ballads, and who said a good word for them. These were
Addison and Rowe. Addison's taste for them had been awakened
during his travels on the Continent. " When I travelled," he
writes, " I took a particular delight in hearing the songs and
fables that are come from father to son, and are most in vosaie
among the common people of the countries through which I
passed ; for it is impossible that anything should be universally
tasted and approved by a multitude, though they are only the
rabble of a nation, which hath not in it some peculiar aptness
1 This Collection, though generally (1719), in six volumes. Five were
called D'Urfey's, was Henry Playford's. printed in 1714 ; the first volume in
D'Urfey edited only the last edition 1699.— W. C.
X THE REVIVAL OF BALLAD POETRY
to please and gratify the mind of man." He gives, as is well
known, two numbers of the Spectator to a consideration of
" Chevy Chase," one to that of the " Children in the Wood."
" The old song of ' Chevy Chase,' " he writes, " is the favourite
ballad of the common people of England, and Ben Jonson used
to say he had rather have been the author of it than of all his
works." Then he quotes Sir Philip Sidney's famous words ; and
then adds, " For my own part I am so professed an admirer of
this antiquated song that I shall give my reader a critick upon
it, without any further apology for so doing." And he proceeds
to investigate the poem according to the critical rules of his
time. He compares it with other heroic poems, and illustrates
it from Virgil and Horace. He read the old ballad in the light
of his age — viewed and reviewed it in a somewhat narrow spirit.
But he did read it — he did look at it. In spite of the confining
criticism and hypercriticism of the day, he did feel and recognise
its power. " Thus we see," his examen concludes, " how the
thoughts of this poem, which naturally arise from the subject,
are always simple, and sometimes exquisitely noble ; that the
language is often very sounding, and that the whole is written
with a true poetical spirit." In another paper he calls attention
to and expresses the " most exquisite pleasure " he had received
from " The Two Children in the Wood," which he had en-
countered pasted upon the wall of some house in the country.
He describes it as " one of the darling songs of the common
people," and as having been " the delight of most Englishmen
in some part of their age ; " and then he discusses it after his
manner. " The tale of it is a pretty tragical story, and pleases
for no other reason but because it is a copy of nature. There
is even a despicable simplicity in the verse ; and yet because the
sentiments appear genuine and unaffected, they are able to
move the mind of the most polite reader with inward meltings
of humanity and compassion." But he could not bring his
IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. XI
contemporaries to sympathise with him. They would not hear,
charmed he never so wisely. His " Chevy Chase " papers were
ridiculed and parodied by Dennis and Wagstaff and kindred
spirits. To them perhaps he alludes in the concluding words
of his notice of the other ballad he reviews : " As for the little
conceited wits of the age," he writes, " who can only show their
judgment by finding fault, they cannot be supposed to admire
those productions which have nothing to recommend them but
the beauties of nature, when they do not know how to relish
even those compositions that, with all the beauties of nature,
have also the additional advantages of art." He fought a losing
battle. What appreciation of the old things there was at the
beginning of the century was rapidly decaying. An age of
elaborate artificiality, and studied affectation, was dawning.
I have mentioned Eowe as sharing Addison's appreciation
of the old ballads. He takes for one of his plays a subject that
was the theme of a widely popular ballad, and in introducing
his tragedy, deprecates the adverse prejudices of his audience,
and speaks boldly in favour of the elder literature, and against
the wretched affectations of his time. The Prologue to his
"Jane Shore," first acted in 1713, opens thus:
To-night, if you have brought your good old taste,
We'll treat you with a downright English feast,
A tale which, told long since in homely wise,
Hath never failed of melting gentle eyes.
Let no nice sir despise the hapless dame
Because recording ballads chaunt her name ;
Those venerable ancient song-enditers
Soared many a pitch above our modern writers.
They caterwauled in no romantic ditty,
Sighing for Philis's or Cloe's pity ;
Justly they drew the Fair, and spoke her plain,
And sung her by her Christian name — 'twas Jane.
Our numbers may be more refined than those,
But what we've gained in verse, we've lost in prose ;
Their words no shuffling double-meaning knew,
Their speech was homely, but their hearts were true.
Xll THE REVIVAL OF BALLAD POETRY
In such an age immortal Shakespear wrote.
By no quaint rules nor hampering critics taught,
With rough majestic force they moved the heart,
And strength and nature made amends for art.
Our humble author does his steps pursue ;
He owns he had the mighty bard in view ;
And in these scenes has made it more his care
To rouse the passions than to charm the ear.
But this advocacy, too, of a better taste was doomed to fail.
Rowe, as Addison, spoke in vain. The literary dominion of
France was growing more and more supreme. Protests in
behalf of our old masters were urged fruitlessly. The charms
of our ballad poetry were disregarded, were despised.
There were, however, others besides Addison and Rowe who
had some slight sense of those charms, as for instance those
whom we have named — Parnell, Tickell, Prior. Parnell's ac-
quaintance with our older literature is shown in his " Fairy Tale
in the Ancient English Style." It is but a feeble piece, written
in a favourite Romance metre — the metre of Chaucer's " Tale of
Sir Topas " — and decorated with occasional bits of bad grammar
to give it an antique look. Tickell's friendship with Addison
could not but have conduced to some familiarity on his part
with the old ballads. He seems to have been inspired by them
in no ordinary degree. Apropos of his " Lucy and Colin," Gold-
smith remarks : " Through all Tickell's works there is a strain
of ballad-thinking, if I may so express it ; and in this professed
ballad he seems to have surpassed himself. It is perhaps the
best in our language in this way." The writer of it has evidently
drunk from the old wells. The story is simple. It is told in a
queer style — a sort of strange compromise between the sim-
plicity of the old ballad language and the superfine verbiage
that was rising into esteem in Tickell's own day. Lucy, the
reader may remember, is deserted by her lover for a richer
bride. She cannot survive this cruelty. She says, [to quote
well-known lines,
IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. Xlll
I hear a voice you cannot hear,
Which says I must not stay.
I see a hand you cannot see,
Which beckons me away.
She is buried on the day of her false lover's marriage. The
funeral cortege encounters the hymeneal. The bridegroom's
old passion, too late, revives.
Confusion, shame, remorse, despair
At once his bosom swell ;
The damps of death bedew his brow ;
He shook, he groaned, he fell.
There is not the true note here, but there is a distant echo of
it. In the handsome folio volume of poems published by
Matthew Prior in 1718 was printed the " Not-Browne Maide,"
not for its own sake, but for the sake of a piece called " Henry
and Emma," an extremely loose paraphrase of it, that the
reader might see how magic was Mr. Prior's touch, who could
transmute so rude an effort into a work so finely polished.
However, Prior deserves some credit for having brought the
old poem forward at all. His " Henry and Emma " won great
applause. What a strange, instructive, significant fact, that
when it and its original were placed before them, men should
deliberately choose it ! A morbid taste was prevailing with a
vengeance. No plea that the language was obscure can be
advanced in this case, as for Dryden's and Pope's versions of
the Canterbury Tales. There is no obscurity in these words :
Lorde, what is
This worldis blisse,
That chaungeth as the mone !
The somers day
In lusty may
Is derked before the none.
1 hear you say
Farewel ! Nay, nay.
We departe not soo sone ;
Why say ye so ?
Win 'dor wyle ye goo ?
XIV TIIE REVIVAL OF BALLAD TOETRT
Alas ! what have ye done ?
Alle my welfare
To sorow and care
Shulde chaunge yf ye were gon ;
For in my mynde
Of all mankynde
I loue but you alone.
But Prior's age did not care for their simple beauty. It could
not value that art quce celat artem. It could not enjoy wild
flowers. To the above delightful speech it preferred the fol-
lowing:
What is our bliss, that changeth with the moon,
And day of life, that darkens ere 'tis noon ?
What is true passion, if unblest it dies?
And where is Emma's joy, if Henry flies ?
If love, alas ! be pain, the pain I bear
No thought can figure, and no tongue declare.
Ne'er faithful woman felt, nor false one feign'd
The flames which long have in my bosom reign'd ;
The god of love himself inhabits there,
With all his rage, and dread, and grief, and care,
His complement of stores and total war.
O ! cease then coldly to suspect my love,
And let my deed at least my faith approve.
Alas ! no youth shall my endearments share,
Nor day nor night shall interrupt my care ;
No future story shall with truth upbraid
The cold indifference of the nut-brown maid;
Nor to hard banishment shall Henry run,
While careless Emma sleeps on beds of down.
View me resolved, where'er thou lead'st, to go,
Friend to thy pain, and partner of thy woe ;
For I attest fair Venus and her son,
That I, of all mankind, will love but thee alono.
Early in the reign of George I., then, the old ballads had
grown insipid. Men had no longer eyes to see their wild
graces. An age of rules was shocked by their fine irregularity.
A moralising and sentimentalising age was horrified at their
plain-spokenness and objectivity. A didactic age could conceive
no interest in such spontaneous songs. It had narrow ideas of
what is instructive, and it wanted instructing. It did not under-
IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. XV
stand the singing as the linnet sings. It wanted its theories
illustrated, discussed, enforced. In a word, it confounded poetry
and morality. It did not cultivate, and it lost the faculty of
pure enjoyment. No wonder then, if, finding no response to
its ideas in the old ballads, it turned away from them, and would
not answer when they called, would not dance when they piped.
But even at this time, when they were rapidly nearing the
nadir of their popularity, the ballads found a friend. In 1723
appeared a volume of collected ballads, followed three years after-
wards by a second, in 1727 by a third. These three volumes
formed that first collection of English ballads (there is only one
Scotch l ballad among them) to which we have above adverted.
Denmark had made collections of its ballads in 1591 and in
1695 ; Spain in 1510, 1555, 1566, and 1615. England — save
the earlier Garlands — first did so in 1723. Scotland, without,
so far as we know, any knowledge of what had been done in
England, in the following year, when Allan Ramsay, a great
student of "the Bruce," "the Wallis," and Lyndsay's works,
1 Songs and ballads of rustic and dainty new Scotch dialogue between a
of humble life were called "Scotch" yong man and his mistresse," subscribed
from about the middle of the 17th Martin Parker, Pop. Music, p. 452.)
century, and without any intention of After him came Tom D'Urfey, and many
imputing to them a Scottish origin, or more. The use extended till, at length,
that they were imitations. The same even ballads relating to the northern
had before been called " Northern." counties of England, and so, in every
Mr. Payne Collier repeatedly reminds sense " northern," were reprinted as
the readers of the Registers of the Scotch. (See, for instance, " Nanny
Stationers' Company that this word 0," Pop. Music, p. 610, note a.) This
"northern" means "rustic." (See Notes conventional meaning of "Scotch" seems
and Queries, Dec. 28, 1861, p. 514; Feb. to have been accepted in Scotland as
8, 1862, p. 106; Feb. 21, 1863, p. 145.) well as in England, for in no other
The substitution of "Scotch" seems to sense could Allan Ramsay claim, among
have commenced during the civil war, and others, Gray's ballad, " Black-ey'd Susan,"
perhaps only after Charles II. had been in the very first part of " A miscellany
crowned King of Scots, when " Scotch" of Scots Sangs," or W. Thomson appro-
at length became a popular, and even a priato songs by Ambrose Phillips and
party word with the Cavaliers. The other well-known Englishmen, in his
first writer in whom I ha»ve noted the Orpheus Caledonius. This remark is
change is Martin Parker, author of the necessary because Percy has, through-
famous Cavalier, ball ad " When the King out, taken the words "northern" and
shall enjoy his own again." (See, for " Scotch" only in their literal local sense,
instance, "A pair of turtle doves, or a — W. C.
XVI THE REVIVAL OF BALLAD POETRY
having " observed that Eeaders of the best and most exquisite
Discernment frequently complain of our modern Writings as
filled with affected Delicacies and studied Eefinements, which
they would gladly exchange for that natural strength of thought
and simplicity of stile our Forefathers practised," published his
" Ever-Green, being a collection of Scots Poems wrote by the
Ingenious before 1600," and in the same year "The Tea-Table
Miscellany, or a Collection of Scots Sangs, in three volumes."
All three collections seem to have enjoyed a fair success. Who
was the author of the English one is not known. 1 It is called
" A collection of Old Ballads corrected from the best and most
ancient copies extant, with Introductions, Historical, Critical,
or Humorous, illustrated with copper plates." The editor adopts
an apologetic motto for his book — some of the above-quoted
words of Eowe. He writes, too, in an apologetic vein. " There
are many," he says, " who perhaps will think it ridiculous enough
to enter seriously into a Dissertation upon Ballads." He is evi-
dently rather afraid of being thought a frivolous creature by his
lofty-minded contemporaries. He is a little uneasy in intro-
ducing his protegees to the polished public. But he does his
duty by them bravely, only indulging himself now and then in a
little superior laugh at their expense. He gives what account
he can of the theme of each one, and shows always a thorough
interest in his work. But the time was not yet ripe for his
labours. The popularity that attended the first appearance of
his collection soon ceased. The predominant character of the
age was not changed. The old voices could not yet secure a
hearing. The age clung to its idols. Its Pharisaic spirit was
too strong to be restrained. It could not vet believe that out
of the mouth of the common people there was ordained strength.
After the middle of the century some promise was shown of
1 Dr. Farmer ascribes it to Ambrose Phillips. See Lowndes, under " Ballads.''
— W. C.
IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. XV11
a better era. In Capell's "Prolusions, or Select Pieces of
Antient Poetry, corapil'd with great care from their several
Originals, and offer'd to the Publick as Specimens of the
Integrity that should be found in the Editions of Worthy
Authors," published in 1760, appeared the "Not-browne
Mayde," no longer accompanied by a modernised version. This
book gives hints of the reaction that was coming against the old
manipulating method. " Fidelity to the best Texts," is its
watchword. In the same year (1760) appeared Macpberson's
Ossian, and produced an immense sensation. Bishop Percy,
with the good wishes and assistance of many then distinguished
men — of Shenstone, Garrick, Joseph Warton, Farmer — was
supplementing the treasures of his wonderful Folio MS. from
other quarters, and preparing the materials of his Reliques of
Ancient En f/lish Poetry. About the same time (1764) appeared
Evans's " Specimens of the Poetry of the Antient Welsh Bards."
Mallet's work on "the remains of the Mythology and Poetry
of the Celtes, particularly of Scandinavia," had already been
published some years. 1 About the same time Gray was
writing his Welsh and Scandinavian pieces. 2 At the same time
Chatterton was striving to satisfy the new taste that was
spreading with forgeries of old poems. 3 The first decade, then,
of George III.'s reign is most memorable in the history of the
1 Mallet (P.-H.) Introduction a This- Glasgow; and at the same time Dodsley
toire de Dannemark, ou Ton traite de was also printing them in London. In
la religion, des mceurs et usages des an- both these editions, the " Long Story "
ciens danois etc. Copenhagve, 1755-56. was omitted. Some pieces of Welch
Les Monumens de la Mythologie et and Norwegian poetry, written in a
de la Poesie des Celtes (trad, des Edda) hold and original manner, were inserted
ouvrage qui fait partie de cette intro- in its place. Mitford's Life of Gray,
duction, ont aussi paru separement avec Works, i. xlix.-l. — F.
un titre particulier, en 1756. Brunei. 3 Published in 1777- He died Aug.
Percy's translation was published in 25th, 1770. His first article, purporting
1770. — F. to be the transcript of an ancient MS.
2 In 1767 he [Gray] had intended a entitled " A Description of the Fryers'
second tour to Scotland. At Dr. first passage over the Old Bridge,"
Beattie's desire, a new edition of his appeared in Farley's Journal, Bristol,
poems was published by Foulis at Oct. 1768. Penny Cycl. — F.
vol. ir. b
xviii THE REVIVAL OF BALLAD POETRY
revival of our ballad poetry. Then commenced an appreciation
of it which has grown stronger and stronger with the lapse of
years. Then it found itself so well supported that it was able
to hold up its head in spite of peremptory contemptuous
criticism. It feared no more the frowns of the great. Its
beauty was no longer to be hid — its light no longer veiled away
from men's eyes. " Even from the tomb the voice of nature
cried." In the midst of conventionalisms and artificialities,
Simplicity and Truth asserted themselves. The age was growing
sick and weary of its old darlings ; growing sensible that there
was no salvation in them, no infallibility, no supreme delight in
their worship :
Naturam expellas furca, tamen usque recurret.
Cinderella had sat by the kitchen fire for many a day. For
many a day the elder sisters, tricked out in all the modish
finery of the time, every attitude studied, every look elaborated
every movement affected, had possessed the drawing-room in all
their fashionable state. Cinderella down in the kitchen had
heard the rustle of their fine silks and satins, and the sound of
their polite conversation. She had been perplexed by their
polished verbiage, and felt her own awkwardness and rusticity.
She had never dared to think herself beautiful. No admiring
eyes ever came near her in which she might mirror herself.
She had never dared to think her voice sweet. No rapt ears
ever drank in fondly its accents. She felt herself a plain-
faced, dull-souled, uninteresting person, not worthy to receive
any attention from any one of the fine gentlemen who adored
her sisters, or to enter their well-mannered society. But her
lowliness was to be regarded. The songs she had sung in the
kitchen to the servants — her humble, unpretentious songs —
they were to find greater favour than ever did those of her
much-complimented sisters. She too was to be the belle of
balls. It was about the year 1760 when the possibility of so
IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. XIX
great a change in her condition became first conceivable. She
met with many enemies, who clamoured that the kitchen was
her proper place, and vehemently opposed her admission into
any higher room. The Prince was long in finding her out.
The sisters put many an obstacle between him and her. They
could not understand the failure of their own attractions.
They could not appreciate the excellence of hers. But at last
the Prince found her, and took her in all her simple sweetness
to himself. At last, to lay metaphors aside, England ac-
knowledged the power and beauty of the ballads that had
suffered for so long a time such grievous neglect.
At the accession of George III., William Whitehead was in
the third year of his adornment of the Poet Laureateship.
" The Pleasures of Imagination," " The Schoolmistress," " The
Complaint, or Night Thoughts on Life, Death, and Immor-
tality" — works which had been given to the world some
sixteen or eighteen years before — were at the zenith of their
fame. The general character of our literature at this time
was wholly didactic. We cannot wonder, then, if the appear-
ance of a poetry that was weighted with no overbearing moral,
or other purpose, produced a tremendous effect. We may be
prepared to understand the prodigious excitement caused by the
publication in 1760 of " The Works of Ossian the Son of Fingal,
translated from the Gaelic language by James Macpherson."
With all their magniloquence, they did not sermonise ; they
expressed some genuine feeling. Amidst all their affected cries
there was a true voice audible. Three years subsequently,
Bishop Percy, moved by Ossian 's popularity, published a transla-
tion from the Icelandic language of five pieces of Eunic poetry.
In the following year, 1764, appeared "Some Specimens of
the Poetry of the Ancient Welsh Bards translated into English,
with Explanatory Notes on the Historical Passages, and a short
Account of Men and Places mentioned by the Bards, in order
b2
XX THE REVIVAL OF BALLAD POETRY
to give the Curious some Idea of the Taste and Sentiments of
our Ancesters and their Manner of Writing, by the Bev. Mr.
Evan Evans, curate of Glanvair Talyhaern in Denbighshire"
— a work with which Gray was familiar. Shortly afterwards
appeared Gray's own translations, made from translations,
of Norse and Welsh pieces : " The Fatal Sisters," " The
Descent of Odin," « The Triumphs of Owen," and " The Death
of Hoel." About the time, then, of the appearance of the
Reliques in 1765, there was dispersed over the country some
slight knowledge of the old Celtic and of Scandinavian poetry.
And now the age was ripe for the reception of such a collec-
tion of old ballads as had been published some forty years, but
had then, after a short-lived circulation, fallen into neglect.
Thomas Percy, the son of a grocer at Bridgenorth, Shropshire,
a graduate of Oxford, vicar of Easton Maudit, Northampton-
shire, was by nature something of an antiquarian. When " very
young," he became possessed of a folio MS. of old ballads and
romances. " This Yery curious old MS." he says in a memo-
randum made in the old folio itself, " in its present mutilated
state, but unbound and sadly torn, I rescued from destruction,
and begged at the hands of my worthy friend Humphrey Pitt, Esq.
then living at Shiffnal in Shropshire, afterwards of Prior Lee
near that town ; who died very lately at Bath ; viz. in Summer
1769. I saw it lying dirty on the floor under a Bureau in y e
Parlour: being used by the maids to light the fire." " When I
first got possession of this MS." he sa}^ in another entry in the
same place, " I was very young, and being in no degree an
Antiquary, I had not then learnt to reverence it ; which must
be my excuse for the scribble which I then spread over some
parts of its margin ; and in one or two instances, for even
taking out the leaves, to save the trouble of transcribing. I
have since been more careful." Besides this famous folio, he
possessed also a quarto MS. volume of similar pieces, supposed
IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. XXI
to be the same as one still in the hands of his family, and con-
taining only copies of printed poems. The folio has remained
in the hands of the Bishop's family in the greatest privacy
hitherto; Jamieson and Sir F. Madden being (I believe) the
only editors who have printed from it, though Dibdin was
allowed to catalogue part of it. It is now at last, as our readers
know, being printed just as it is. These volumes had in Percy
a (for that time) highly appreciative possessor. He determined
to introduce to the public some specimens of their contents.
This proposal was promoted by the sympathy of many then dis-
tinguished men: of Shenstone, Bird, Grainger, Steevens, Farmer,
and by others of still greater and more enduring note — Garrick
and Goldsmith. At last, in 1765 appeared Reliques of Ancient
English Poetry, consisting of Old Heroic Ballads, Songs, and
other pieces of our earlier poets (chiefly of the Lyric kind)
together with some few of later date. The editor, even as the
editor of the collection of 1723, of whom Ave have spoken, has,
manifestly, some misgivings about the character of his protegees.
He is not quite sure how they will be received by his polite
contemporaries. He speaks of them, in his Dedication of his
volumes to the Countess of Northumberland (he was extremely
ambitious to connect himself with the great Percies of the
North), as "the rude songs of ancient minstrels," "the barbarous
productions of unpolished ages," and is troubled for fear lest he
should be guilty of some impropriety in hoping that they " can
obtain the approbation or the notice of her, who adorns courts
by her presence, and diffuses elegance by her example. But
this impropriety, it is presumed, will disappear when it is
declared that these poems are presented to your Ladyship, not as
labours of art but as effusions of nature, shewing the first efforts
of ancient genius, and exhibiting the customs and opinions of
remote ages." In his Preface he says that "as most of" the con-
tents of his folio MS. " are of great simplicity, and seem to have
XX11 THE REVIVAL OF BALLAD POETRY
been merely written for the people, the possessor was long in
doubt, whether in the present state of improved literature they
could be deemed worthy the attention of the public. At length
the importunity of his friends prevailed." " In a polished age,
like the present, he adds, " I am sensible that many of these
reliques of antiquity will require great allowances to be made
for them. Yet have they, for the most part, a pleasing simpli-
city, and many artless graces, which in the opinion of no mean
critics [a foot-note cites Addison, Dryden, Lord Dorset &c, and
Selden] have been thought to compensate for the want of higher
beauties, and if they do not dazzle the imagination [Did " The
School-mistress," " The Sugar-cane," dazzle the imagination?]
are frequently found to interest the heart." Still more striking-
are the following words : " To atone for the rudeness of the more
obsolete poems, each volume concludes with a few modern
attempts in the same kind of writing." And then he buttresses
his volumes with eminent names — Shenstone, Thomas Warton,
Garrick, Johnson (we shall see presently how far Johnson was
likely to smile on his undertaking), which " names of so many
men of learning and character, the editor hopes will serve as an
amulet, to guard him from every unfavourable censure for
having bestowed any attention on a parcel of Old Ballads. It
was at the request of many of these gentlemen, and of others
eminent for their genius and taste, that this little work was
undertaken. To prepare it for the press has been the amuse-
ment of now and then a vacant hour amid the leisure and
retirement of rural life, and hath only served as a relaxation
from graver studies. It hath been taken up and thrown aside
for many months during an interval of four or five years." With
such apologies and antidotes did the Eeliques make their debut !
How strange — what a wonderful tale of altered taste it tells —
that in order to make " Chevy Chase," " E.dom o' Gordon,"
" Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard," endurable, to reconcile
IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. XX111
the reader to their rudeness, such charming chaperones should be
assigned them as " Bryan and Pereene, a West Indian ballad by
Dr. Grainger," " Jemmy Dawson, by Mr. Shenstone" ! "Bryan
and Pereene," " founded on a real fact," narrates how Pereene,
" the pride of Indian dames," went down to the sea-shore to meet
her lover, who, after an absence in England of one long long year
one month and day, was returning to St. Christopher's and his
mistress.
Soon as his well-known ship she spied
She cast her weeds away,
And to the palmy shore she hied
All in her best array.
In sea-green silk, so neatly clad
She there impatient stood ;
Bryan, seeing her in the said sea-green silk, impatient also,
leapt overboard in the hope of reaching her sooner.
The crew with wonder saw the lad
Kepell the foaming flood.
Her hands a handkerchief display'd,
Which he at parting gave ;
Well-pleas'd the token he survey'd,
And manlier beat the wave.
Her fair companions one and all
Rejoicing crowd the strand ;
For now her lover swam in call,
And almost touch'd the land.
Then through the white surf did she haste,
To clasp her lovely swain ;
"When ah ! a shark bit through his waist,
His heart's blood dy'd the main.
He shriek'd ! his half sprang from the wave,
Streaming with purple gore,
And soon it found a living grave,
And ah ! was seen no more.
xxiv THE REVIVAL OF BALLAD POETRY
Now haste, now haste, ye maids, I pray,
Fetch water from the spring;
She falls, she swoons, she dies away,
And soon her knell they ring.
And so the doleful ditty ends with an injunction to the "fair,"
to strew her tomb with fresh flowerets every May morning, to
the end that they and their lovers may not come to similar
distress." Jemmy Dawson was one of the Manchester rebels
who took part in the '45, and was hanged, drawn, and quartered
on Kennington Common in 1746.
Their colours and their sash he wore,
And in the fatal dress was found ;
And now he must that death endure,
Which gives the brave the keenest wound.
How pale was then his true love's cheek,
When Jemmy's sentence reach'd her ear ;
For never yet did Alpine snows,
.So pale, nor yet so chill appear.
With faltering voice she weeping said,
Oh ! Dawson, monarch of my heart,
Think not thy death shall end our loves,
For thou and I will never part.
Poor Kitty inflexibly witnesses his execution.
The dismal scene was o'er and past,
The lover's mournful hearse retir'd ;
The maid drew back her languid head,
And sighing forth his name expir'd.
Such were the pieces whose elegance was to make atonement
to the readers of a century ago, for the barbarousness of the
other components of the Rellques.
This barbarousness was further mitigated by an application
of a polishing process to the ballads themselves. Percy per-
formed the offices of a sort of tireman for them. He dressed
and adorned them to go into polite society. To how great an
extent he laboured in their service, is now at last manifested by
the publication of the Folio. The old MS. contained many
IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. XXV
pieces which, it would seem, were considered hopeless. No
amount of manipulation could ever make them presentable.
It contained many pieces and many fragments — thanks to the
anxiety of Mr. Humphrey Pitt's servants to light his fires !—
which the art of the editorial refiner of the eighteenth century
deemed capable of adaptation ; and Percy adapted them. The
old ballads could reckon on no genuine sympathy. They were,
so to speak, the songs of Zion in a strange land.
Percy, as the extracts we have quoted from his Dedication
and Preface have shown, was not free from the prejudices of his
time. He was but slightly in advance of them ; but he was in
advance of them. He did recognise the power and beauty of
the old poetry, more deeply, perhaps, than he ever dared
confess. And, though unconscious of the greatness of the work
he was doing, did for us — for Europe' — an unutterable service.
He was, to the end, curiously unconscious of it. He had given
a deadly blow to a terrible giant, and freed many captives from
his thraldom, without knowing. Men are often reminded to be
delicately careful in their actions, because they know not what
harm they may do. They might sometimes be encouraged
by the thought that they know not what good they do.
Certainly Percy performed for English literature a far higher
service than he ever dreamt of. He always regarded the
Reliques as something rather frivolous. " I read ' Edwin and
Angelina' to Mr. Percy some years ago," writes Goldsmith, in
1767, to the printer of the St. James' Chronicle, who had
assigned Goldsmith's ballad to Percy, " and he (as we both
considered these things as trifles at best) told me, with his usual
goodhumour, the next time I saw him, that he had taken my
plan to form the fragments of Shakespeare into a ballad of his
own. He then read me his little cento, if I may so call
it, and I highly approved of it." " I am so little interested
about the amusements of my youth,'''' writes Percy to his
XXVI THE REVIVAL OF BALLAD POETRY
publisher in 1794, " that, had it not been for the benefit of my
nephew, I could contentedly have let the Reliques of Ancient
Poetry remain unpublished." The great effect the memorable
work produced came " not with observation."
With all the consideration Percy showed for the prevailing
taste, he did not succeed in winning over to his support certain
great leaders of it. He was extremely solicitous to secure
the approval of the leader of the leaders of it — of that supreme
potentate, Dr. Johnson. In his Preface he twice mentions him :
first, as having urged him to publish a selection from the Folio
(" He could refuse nothing," he says, " to such judges as the
author of the Rambler, and the late Mr. Shenstone,") ; and
secondly, as having lightened his editorial task with his assist-
ance (" To the friendship of Mr. Johnson," he writes, " he owes
many valuable hints for the conduct of his work "). But, for all
these complimentary mentions, Johnson seems to have liked
neither the work nor its author, as may be seen in Boswell
again and again; thus: "The conversation having turned on
modern imitations of ancient ballads, and some one having
praised their simplicity, he treated them with that ridicule
which he always displayed when that subject was mentioned."
The 177th number of the Rambler gives a satirical account of a
Club of Antiquaries. Hirsute, we are told, had a passion for
black-letter books ; Ferratus for coins ; Ctiartophylax for
gazettes ; " Cantilenus turned all his thoughts upon old ballads,
for he considered them as the genuine records of the natural
taste. He offered to show me a copy of The Children of the
Wood, which he firmly believed to be of the first edition, and
by the help of which the text might be freed from several
corruptions, if this age of barbarity had any claim to such
favours from him." In his Life of Addison, after a sarcastic
reference to his Spectators on '" Chevy Chase," and Wagstaff's
ridicule of them, he adds, in modification of Dennis's reductio
IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. XXvil
ad absiirdum of Addison's canon — that " Chevy Chase " pleases,
and ought to please, because it is natural — " In Chevy Chase
there is not much of either bombast or affectation, but there is
chill and lifeless imbecility. The story cannot possibly be told
in a manner that shall make less impression on the mind. 1 '
With what horror the ghost of Sir Philip Sidney must have
been struck if ever it was aware of this crushing dictum ! Still
more suggestive are his observations on another old ballad.
" The greatest of all his amorous essays," he remarks in his
Life of Prior, " is Henry and Emma — a dull and tedious
dialogue, which excites neither esteem for the man nor tender-
ness for the woman. The example of Emma, who resolves to
follow an outlawed murderer wherever fear and guilt shall drive
him, deserves no imitation [would Johnson have said that the
" Laocoon," or the " Venus de Medici," deserved an imitation ?
how could his critical rules have been applied to them ?], and
the experiment by which Henry tries the lady's constancy is
such as must end either in infamy to her or in disappointment
to himself." With these terrible sentences in our ear, let us
read these stanzas :
Though it be songe
Of old & yonge,
That I shold be to blame,
Theyrs be the charge
That speke so large
In hastynge of my name ;
For Iwyll prove
That faythfutte love,
It is devoyd of shame ;
In your dystresse,
And hevynesse,
To part with you the same;
And sure all tho
That do not so
True lovers are they none.
For in my mynde
Of all mankynde
I love but you alone.
XXV111 THE REVIVAL OF BALLAD POETRY
■And, I thinke nat nay
But as ye say,
It is no mayden's lore ;
But love may make
Me for your sake,
As I have sayd before,
To come on foote
To hunt, to shote
To gete us mete in store ;
For so that I
Your companey
May have, I ask no more.
From which to part,
It makyth my hart
As colde as ony stone ;
For in my mynde
Of all mankynde
I love but you alone.
Read these high passionate words, and think of Johnson's
criticism. 1 He misses, evidently, the point of the poem — does
not see how one noble idea permeates and vivifies every line,
and glorifies the self-abandonment confessed.
Here may ye see
That women be
In love, meke, kynde, and stable ;
Late never man
Reprove them than,
Or call them variable ;
But rather pray
God that we may
To them be comfortable.
His criticism of the " Nut-brown Maid " makes his dislike of the
old ballads intelligible enough. We can understand now how
he came to despise and abuse them, and parody their form in
this wise : s
1 Cf. Mr. Gilpin's (Saurey-Gilpin, an the same woman whom the Rake dis-
artist, 1733-1807, ) remark, cy;«d Nichols cards in the first print, by whom he is
and Steevens' Hogarth, on the seventh rescued in the fourth, who is present at
plate of the Rake's Progress : " The his marriage, who follows him into jail,
episode of the fainting woman might and lastly to Bedlam. The thought is
have given way to many circumstances rather unnatural, and the moral certainly
more proper to the occasion. This is culpable."
IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. XXIX
The tender infant, meek and mild,
Fell down upon a stone ;
The nurse took up the squealing child,
But still the child squeal'd on.
Warburton, Hurd, and others heartily concurred in his opinion.
Warburton thought that the old ballads were utterly despicable
by the side of the exalted literature of his own and recent
times. He called them "specious funguses compared to the
oak."
But in the face of this contumely, looked down on and sneered
at by the learning and refinement of the age, the old ballads
grew dear to the heart of the nation. They stirred emotions
that had long lain dormant. They revived fires that had long
slumbered. The nation lay in prison like its old Troubadour
king ; in its durance it heard its minstrel singing beneath the
window its old songs, and its heart leapt in its bosom. It
recognised the well-known, though long-neglected, strains that
it had heard and loved in the days of its youth. The old love
revived. The captive could not at once cast off its fetters, and
go forth. But a yearning for liberty awoke in it ; a wild,
growing, passionate longing for liberty, for real, not artificial
flowers ; for true feeling, not sentimentalism ; for the fresh
life-giving breezes of the open country, not the languid airs
of enclosed courts.
As one who long in populous city pent,
Where houses thick and sewers annoy the air,
Forth issuing on a summer's morn, to breathe
Among the pleasant villages and farms
Adjoin'd, from each thing met conceives delight,
The smell of grain, or tedded grass, or kine,
Or dairy, each rural sight, each rural sound,
.so did the nation issue forth from its confinement, and conceive
truer, more comprehensive jo} T s.
The publication of the Reliques, then, constitutes an epoch in
the history of the great revival of taste, in whose blessings we
XXX THE REVIVAL OF BALLAD POETRY
now participate. After 1765, before the end of the century,
numerous collections of old ballads, in Scotland and in England,
by Evans, Pinkerton, Hurd, Eitson, were made. The noble
reformation, that received so great an impulse in 1765, ad-
vanced thenceforward steadily. The taste that was awakened
never slumbered again. The recognition of our old life and
poetry that the Reliques gave, was at last gloriously confirmed
and established by Walter Scott. That great minstrel was
profoundly influenced by the Reliques, both directly and in-
directly, through Burger and others who had drunk deep of its
waters.
" Among the valuable acquisitions," says Scott in his Autobi-
ography, writing of his studies after his leaving Edinburgh High
School, " I made about this time, was an acquaintance with
Tasso's 'Jerusalem Delivered' through the flat medium of Mr.
Hoole's translation. But above all I then first became acquainted
with Bishop Percy's Reliques of Ancient Poetry . As I had been
from infancy devoted to legendary lore of this nature, and only
reluctantly withdrew my attention from the scarcity of materials
and the rudeness of those which I possessed, it may be imagined,
but cannot be described, with what delight I saw pieces of the
same kind whcih had amused my childhood, and still continued
in secret the Delilahs of my imagination, considered as the subject
of sober research, grave commentary, and apt illustration by an
editor who showed his practical genius was capable of emulating
the best qualities of what his pious labour preserved. I re-
member well the spot where I read these volumes for the first
time. It was beneath a huge plantaine tree, in the ruins of
what had been intended for an old-fashioned arbour in the
garden I have mentioned. The summer day sped onwards so
fast that, notwithstanding the sharp appetite of thirteen, I
forgot the hour of dinner, was sought for with anxiety, and was
•still found entranced in my intellectual banquet. To read and
IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. XXXI
to remember was in this instance the same thing, and hence-
forth I overwhelmed my schoolfellows and all who would
hearken to me with tragical recitations from the ballads of
Bishop Percy. The first time too I could scrape a few shillings
together, which w T ere not common occurrences w T ith me, I bought
unto myself a copy of these beloved volumes; nor do I believe
I ever read a book half so frequently or with half the
enthusiasm."
XXX111
ON "BONDMAN,"
THE NAME AND THE CLASS,
WITH EEFERENCE TO THE BALLAD OF " JOHN DE REEUE.'
By F. J. FUENIVALL.
Johnson's definition of bondman is " a man slave." To it his
latest editor, Dr. Latham, puts neither addition nor qualification;
and the popular notion undoubtedly is, that whenever the word
is used, of Early English times or modern, a slave is understood,
one whose person, wife, children, and property, are wholly in
his owner's power. We have to ask how far this popular notion
is true with regard to our Bondmen, John de Reeue, Hobkin or
Hodgkin long, and Hob o' the Lathe, and their class.
I do not find the word bondman in English till about 1250
A.D., taking that as the date of the Owl arid Nightingale :
Moni chapmon and moni cniht
LuveJ> and halt ' his wif ariht ;
And swa de{? moni bondeman.
{Owl and Nightingale, 1. 1575, p. 49, ed. Stratmann, 1868.)
The earlier word was bonde, and the earliest the Anglo-Saxon
bonda, which Thorpe rightly derives and defines as follows in
his glossary to the Ancient Laivs :
Bonda, boor, paterfamilias. This word was probably introduced
by the Danes, and seems occasionally to have been used for ceorl •
its immediate derivation is from O. N. buandi, contracted to] bondi,
villicns, colonus qui foco utitur proprio ; part. pres. used substantively
of at bud. Goth, gabauan habitare ; modern Danish bonde, peasant,
husbandman.
Bosworth on the other hand defines Bonda as
1. One bound, a husband, householder. 2. A proprietor, husband-
man, boor : Bonde-land land held under restrictions, copyhold.
1 MS. Cot. Had.
VOL. II. C
XX XIV
ON " BONDMAN."
Whether ' one bound ' (as if from bond, and-a one who has ;
like ivced a garment, ivceda one who has a garment,) is the original
sense of the word, is more than doubtful ; and till the proof is
produced, I reject the meaning as original, 1 though no doubt
at a later period this sense prevailed over the Scandinavian
one. Mr. Wedgwood says under Husband :
From Old Norse bua (the equivalent of G. hanen, Du. boiven, to
till, cultivate, prepare) are bu a household, farm, cattle ; buandi,
bondi, 2 N\ bonds the possessor of a farm, husbandman ; husbond or
1 bondi (d. i. boandi = buandi, der
Sonde, freier Grundbcsitzer, Hausvater,
pi. bcendr mariti. — Mobius.
2 Mr. Cockayne says " The word Bond
bound has no existence but in Somner,
■whence others have copied it. Bos-
worth has built on Bond a guess, Bonda
one bound, which is a delusion. For
Bound, the true word is bunden, and for
a Bond, bend." Mr. Earle also rejects
the derivation from bond, and the mean-
ing " one bound." Mr. Thorpe says
that Ettmuller (p. 293) questions the
buandi, bondi derivation, but without
sufficient grounds, in Mr. Thorpe's
opinion. Haldorson accepts it " Bondi
m. paterfamilias (quasi boandi, buandi)
en Husfader, Husbande, L. Colonus,
ruricola, en Bonde, Storboendr prsedica-
tores (Bonds with a large house and
extensive ground), Smabcendr villici
(Bonds with a small house and little
yard)." Mr. Skeat notes " Bosworth also
gives Buend, bugend, bugigend, as mean-
ing an inhabitant, a farmer, from buan,
to dwell, cultivate. This comes nearer
to the Dan. and Sw. bonde as regards
etymology, though it is not so near in
form. Cf. A. -Sax. buan, Moeso-Goth.
bauan, gabauan, to dwell, bauains, a
dwelling-place. The G-. bauer, peasant,
is the Du. bocr, and our boor. It is
curious that the Du. bocr, as well as the
Sw. and Dan. bonde, signifies ' a pawn
at chess.' I do not see how you dis-
tinguish between A.-Sax. bonda and
A.-Sax. buend, unless you call the
former a Danish word. In modern
Danish the d is not sounded, and the o
has an oo sound, so that bonde is called
boon-ne (Lund's Danish Grammar)."
Professor Bosworth has kindly sent
me the following note in support of the
first meaning he assigns to bonda. It
unfortunately came too late — in conse-
quence of the illness of his aman-
uensis — to be worked up or noticed in
the text. " Bunda, bonda, an ; m. I.
A wedded or 'married man, a husband;
maritus, sponsus. II. The father or
head of a family, a householder ; pater-
familias, ceconomus. Then follow nu-
merous examples, in proof of these
meanings. I've gone over again all
the examples, and I have enlarged what
I had previously written, as to the
origin of ' Bunda, bonda,' and given the
detail in the following pages. — J. B."
" Every word has its history by which
its introduction and use are best ascer-
tained. Bede tells us [Bk. I, 25, 2,]
that Ethelbert king of Kent married a
Christian, Bertha, a Frankish princess.
The Queen prepared the way for the
friendly reception of Augustine and his
missionary followers, by Ethelbert in
a.d. 597, who was the first to found a
school in Kent, and wrote laws which
are said to be " asette on Augustinus
dsege," established in the time of Augus-
tine, between a.d. 597 and 604. The
cultivation and writing of Anglo Saxon
[Englisc] began with the conversion
of Ethelbert. Marriage, and the house-
hold arrangements depending upon it,
were regulated by the law of the
Church, and indigenous compound words
were formed to express that law : — thus
se law, divine law ; Cristes se Christi
lex, Bihte se legitimum matrimonium
Bd. 4, 5 — sew wedlock, marriage, sew-
boren lawfully bom, bom in wedlock —
sew-brica m. wedlock breaker, m. an adul-
terer, sew-brice /. an adultress, sew-
faest-mann marriage-fast-man a wedded
man, a husband ; sew-nian to wed, take
ON " BONDMAN."
XXXV
husband the master of the house. Dan. bonde peasant, countryman,
villager, clown.
Where the word occurs in the Anglo-Saxon Laws, Thorpe
translates it " proprietor," and then " husband," meaning " hus-
band who is a proprietor."
Swa ymbe friSes-bdte, swa parn bondan si selost, ~\ pam pedfan si
laSost. — jEthelredes Domas, vi. xxxii. 1
So concerning " frithes-bot," as may be best to the proprietor and
most hostile to the thief. — Ancient Laivs, i. 322—3.
a wife— rew-nung wedding, marriage —
£§w-wif a wedded woman. — Hiis-bunda,
— bonda a house binder, husband, house-
holder. This expressive compound is
one of the oldest in the language. It
is found in the interpolated passage of
Matt. xx. between v. 28 and 29. The
passage is in all the Anglo-Saxon MSS.
of the Gospels, except the interlineary
glosses. The A.-Sax. is a literal ver-
sion of the Augustinian MS. in the Bod-
leian Library, Oxford [Codex, August.
857, B. 2, 14], from the Old Italic
version, from which the Latin Vulgate
of the Gospels was formed by St. Jerome
about a.d. 384. Though we do not
know the exact dates when the Gospels
were translated from Latin into A.-Sax.,
Cuthbert assures us that Bede finished
the last Gospel, St. John, on May 27,
735, [See Pref. to Goth, and A.-Sax.
Gos. Bos. p. ix-xii]. As the three pre-
ceding Gospels were most likely trans-
lated before St. John, then the follow-
ing sentence was written before 735, Se
hus-bonda [hiis-bunda in MS. Camb. Ii.
2, 11,] hate £e arisan and ryman ?am
ofcrum, the householder bid thee rise and
make room for the other. Notes to Bos-
worth's Goth, and A.-Sax. Gos. Mt. xx.
28 ; p. 576. Hus-bonda is also used
by Elfric in his version of the Scrip-
tures about 970 [Ex. 3, 22.] Bunda,
bonda one wedded or bound, a husband,
from bindan ; p. band, bundon ; pp.
bunden ; to bind, must have been of
earlier origin than the compound hus-
bunda. It is a well-known rule that in
A.-Sax. a person or agent is denoted by
adding a,* as bytl a hamm<r, bytla a
hammerer, anweald ride, government,
anwealda a rider, governor, — bunden,
bund bound, bunda, bonda one bound,
a husband. Bunda might be banda, as
well as bonda, for a is often used for o,
as monn for mann a man. The early
use of hiis-buDda, -bonda would at once
indicate, that it was not likely to be of
Norse or Icelandic origin. It could not
be derived from the Norse biia to dwell,
part, buandi boandi dwelling, nor even
from the cognate A.-Sax. biian to dwell,
because the ii and 6 are long in the
Norse bua to dwell, buandi, boandi
dwelling, and the A.-Setx. biian to dwell,
buende dwelling, biiend, biienda a
dwelUr, while the ii and o are always
short in bunda and bonda. So in other
compounds from bindan to bind, as
bunde-land bond or leased land, land let
on binding conditions. Bunda then is
a pure Anglo-Saxon word, derived from
bindan to bind. Biian to dwell, with the
part, buende dwelling, and the noun
biiend, es ; m. a dweller, is quite a dis-
tinct word. Buend has its own numer-
ous compounds ; as, — Land-biiend a land
dweller, a farmer; agricola. An-buend
one dwelling alone, a hermit ; ceaster-,
eg-, eorp-, feor-, fold-, grand-, her-, ig-,
land-, neah-, sund-, worulcl- and beod-
biiend."
1 Ethelred, son of Edgar, succeeded to
the throne, on the murder of his brother
Edward, in the year 978, and died in
1016. — Thorpe's note in Laws and List,
of England, vol. i. p. 280.
* To a substantive, not a verb or participle. — F.
c 2
XXXVI ON " BONDMAN.
Again, in the same sentence nearly repeated in Cnutes Domas,
viii. (Canute died 12 Nov. 1035) " bam bondan, for the pro-
prietor" p. 380-1. At p. 414-15, Cnutes Domas, lxxiii.
Conjux incolat eandem Sedem quam Maritus.
LXXIII. And f aer se bonda saet unwyd -j unbecrafod, sitte f wif 3
fa cild on fan ylcan unbesacen. And gif se &on^<x ser he dead wsere,
beclypod wsere, f onne andwyrdan fa yrfennman, swa he sylf sceolde
f eah he lif hasfde.
And where the husband dwelt without claim or contest, let the wife
and the children dwell in the same, nnassailed by litigation. And
if the husband, before he was dead, had been cited, then let the heirs
answer, as himself should have done if he had lived.
So the Laws of King Henry the First (who reigned 1100-35
A.D.), repeating the last provision, say :
§ 5 Et ubi bunda manserit sine calumpnia, sint uxor et pueri in
eodem, sine querela &c. — Ancient Laivs, i. 526.
In 1048 a.d. the Saxon Chronicle uses bunda for a house-
holding cultivator or farmer :
Da he [Eustatius] waes sume mila oSSe mare beheonan Dofran .
fa dyde he on his byrnan . and his ge-feran ealle . and foran to
Dofran . fa hi fider comon . fa woldon hi innian hi f asr heom sylfan
gelicode . fa com an his manna . and wolde wician set anes bundan 1 .
huse, his unSances . and gewundode f one liusbundon . and se hus-
bnnda 2 ofsloh f one oSerne. Da weard Eustathts uppon his horse .
and his ge-feoran uppon heora . and ferdon to f a,n liusbundon . and
ofslogon hine binnan his agenan heorcSse . and wendon him fa up to
f sere burge- weard . and ofslogon aegfter ge wiSinnan ge wiSutan . ma
fanne xx manna. — Saxon Chronicle, ed. Earle, p. 177 (a.d. 1048.)
When he [Eustathius] was some miles or more beyond Dover,
then put he on his armour, and all his companions (did likewise),
and went to Dover. When they came thither, then would they
lodge where they pleased. Then came one of his men, and would,
dwell at the house of a cultivator (or householder) against his will,
and wounded the cultivator ; and the cultivator slew the other.
Then Eustathius got upon his horse, and his companions on theirs,
and went to the cultivator, and slew him within his own hearth ; and
1 bundan, gen. sing, good man, 1048. plode the " moral-etymology " of a hus-
Glossarial Index. band being so called because he is the
2 The equivalence of the husbunda band or binder-together of the house,
with the bunda here is enough to ex- even if Dr. Hosworth be right.
ON " BONDMAN." XXXvii
went then up to the guard of the city, and slew both within and
without more than 20 men,
In a passage in HI ekes the (no doubt) free bunda, paying a
fine, is contrasted with the thrcell who gets a flogging :
And jif hwa Sis ne gelasste . )>onne gebete he f swa swa hit jelajod
is . bunda mid xxx pen. Artel mid his hyde . J'ejn mid xxx scill. — From
Hickes's Dissertatio Epistolaris, p. 108.
And if any one does not perform this, then let him make amends
for that as is laid-down-by-law : the boncle with xxx pence, the thrall
with his hide, the thane with xxx shillings.
Thus far then the evidence — for I do not admit Bosworth's
" one bound " as right — points to the boncle being a freeman,
and if not a landed proprietor, still a free tenant. The evidence
of the freedom is strengthened if we may regard the Danish-
named boncle as a Saxon-named churl — the name of one
seeming to be used for the other, as Mr. Thorpe observes, for
the ceorla was a free man, the " ordinary freeman " of Anglo-
Saxon society, though obliged by " the feudal system " which
" may be traced throughout all Anglo-Saxon history, to provide
himself with a lord, that he might be amenable to justice when
called upon." 1 Still, this vassalage was no bondage in the later or
the modern sense of the term ; the vassal churl was a freeman
still, if we may trust Heywood.
In Alfred's time, and later, the ceorl had slaves. Sec. 25 of
Alfred's Laws (translated) is :
If a man commit a rape upon a ceorVs female slave (mennen), let
him make hot (amends) to the ceorl with 5 shillings, and let the
wite (fine) he 60 shillings. Auc. Laws, i. 79.
The A.-S. laws of Eanks enact that,
if a ceorl thrived, so that he had fully five hides of his own land,
church and kitchen, bell-house, and " burh"-gate-seat, and special
duty in the king's hall, then was he thenceforth of thane-right
worthy. — Anc. Laws, i. 191.
Thorpe defines ceorl thus :
Ceorl. O.H.G. charal. A freeman of ignoble rank, a churl, twy-
hinde man, villanus, illiberalis.
Tioyliynde (Man), a man whose ' w&r-gild? was 200 shillings.
This was the lowest class of Anglo-Saxon aristocracy. Twelf-hynde
1 Hey wood's Distinctions in Society. 18 IS, p. 325.
XXXViii ON "BONDMAN."
(Man), a man whose wer-gild was 1200 shillings. This was the
highest class of Anglo- Saxon aristocracy.
The slave was a \rcd or ]>eow. Mr. Thorpe considers Iprail
to be a Scandinavian word.
Next comes the question, did these bondes or ceorls continue
free till the time of the Conquest ? Kemble says not :
' Finally, the nobles-by-birth themselves beoame absorbed in the
ever- widening whirlpool ; day by day the freemen, deprived of their
old national defences, wringing with difficulty a precarious sub-
sistence from incessant labotu', sullenly yielded to a yoke which they
could not shake off, and commended themselves (such was the
phrase) to the protection of a lord ; till a complete change having
tlms been operated in the opinions of men, and consequently in
every relation of society, a new order of things was consummated,
in which the honours and security of service became more anxiously
desired than a needy and unsafe freedom ; and the alods being
finally surrendered, to be taken back as beneficia, under mediate lords,
the foundations of the royal, feudal system were securely laid on
every side. — Kemble, The Saxons in England, vol. i. p. 184.
The very curious and instructive dialogue of ^Elfric numbers
among the serfs the y ruling or ploughman, 1 whose occupation the
author nevertheless places at the head of all the crafts, with per-
haps a partial exception in favour of the smith's. — Ibid. p. 216.
Mr. C. H. Pearson also says not :
Not only were slaves increasing, but freemen were disappearing.
The ceorl is never mentioned in our laws after Edward the elder's
time. If he became the villan of a later period, he was already
semi-servile before the Norman conquest. If he passed into the
freeman, 2 sometimes holding in his own right, and sometimes under
a lord's protection, the class did not number 5 per cent, of the
population at the time when Domesday was compiled, was virtually
confined to Norfolk and Suffolk, and had not even a representative
in the counties south of the Thames. It is evident that the bulk of
the Saxon people was in no proper sense, and at no time free. Even
the free in name were virtually bound down to the soil with the
possession of which their rights were connected, and from which
their subsistence was derived ; . . . the idea that any man might go
where he would, live as he liked, think or express his thoughts
freely, would have been repugnant to the whole tenour of a con-
stitution which started from the Old Testament as a model, pre-
served or incorporated the traditions of Roman law, and regarded
the regulation of life as the duty of the legislator.
1 This should be compared with the 2 Had he not always been free?
second extract from Havdok below.
ON " BONDMAN." XXXIX
The mention of villan brings us to the Conquest 1 and to Domes-
day-book. On every page of the latter villani are mentioned,
and the articles of enquiry for the composition of it show that
the enquiry into the population and property of each district
" was conducted by the king's barons, upon the oaths of the
sheriff of each county, and all the barons, and their French-born
vassals, and of the hundredary (reeve of the hundred), priest,
steward, and six villeins of every vill" &c. (Heywood, p. 290,
note). The question for us is, are we to take as free men or not
these villans, who were to help in settling what "served for cen-
turies as the basis of all taxation, and the authority by which all
disputes about landed tenures and customs were decided," who
were to state fi on oath what amount of land there was in the
district, whether it was wood, meadow, or pasture, what was its
value, what services were due from its owners ; and generally the
numbers of free and bond on the estate " (Pearson, i. 374).
The arguments of Serjeant Heywood for the identity 2 of the
villein with the ceorl or twihynde man seem to me very strong
indeed ; and Mr. Pearson tells me that in the earlier use of the
word villanus, the first which he knows, — namely, that in the
preamble to the Decree of the Bishops and Witan of Kent
about keeping the peace under Athelstan, which speaks of
Thaini, Comites, et Villani,, — he thinks that " villan " means
" ceorl " very literally.
Serjeant Heywood first shows that the Textus Roffensis, in
explaining a passage from the Judicia Civitatis Lunclonice like
that quoted above from the Anglo-Saxon Laws 3 " makes it
' Of the name viUa?msSevjt. Heywood ranks of society as freemon, socmen,
says, " I have not met with it in any and perhaps in some cases bordars and
authentic documents till about the time cottars. It must be remembered that
of the Conquest, but it is found in the the Eectitudines Singidarum Pcrsona-
laws of Edward the Confessor, William rum use the word villanus to translate
the Concpueror, and Henry the first. the Saxon geneat, and that the word
Among the Saxons were many words ccorla does not occur in the whole docu-
descriptive of persons engaged in hus- ment."
bandry, as ceorls, cyrlisc men, geneats, ' De gentis et legis honoribus. Fuit
tunesmen, landsmen, &c, but the pro- cpiondam in legibus Anglorum ea gens
per appellation for a villan has not et lex pro honoribus, et ibi erant sapi»
been ascertained." — Pp. 290-1. But entes populi honore digni, quilibet pro
see the next paragraph above. sua ratione ; comes et colonics, thanus et
2 Mr. Pearson says we must " under- rusticus (eorl and ceorl, thegen and
stand it with the reservation that while thcowen).
the vast majority of the ceorl class had Et si colonus tamen sit, qui habeat
degraded into the position of villans, integras quinque hydas terra?, ecelesiam
others were distributed in the different et culinam, turrim sacram {bill hus) et
xl ON " BONDMAN."
relate to villan and not to ceorls (L. coloni\ whence we may infer
that the author considered them as the same persons " (Disser-
tation, p. 185). He next shows that the eighth law of William
the Conqueror, which makes the were of a villan only 100
shillings, was probably wrongly transcribed ; and that the seven-
tieth law of Henry I. expressly defines the free twihind as a
villan : — " the were of a twihind, that is, a villan, is five pounds :
twyhindi, i. villani, ivera est IV lib';" — and the 76th law
classes the twihinds among the free men. Also that
in other parts of the laws, villans are ranked with ceorls and twihinds.
Moreover the weres of a cyrlisc man & [that is, or] a villan are ex-
pressly mentioned, and required to be regulated in the same manner
as that of a twelfhind. 1 — Heyioood, p. 295.
Another proof may be adduced from their being liable to the pay-
ment of reliefs which never were called for from the servile class.
When, therefore, provision was made in the laws of William the
Conqueror for the exaction of a relief from every villan, of his best
beast, whether a horse, an ox, or a cow, we must conclude that, at
the time of compiling those laws, namely, about four years after the
Conquest, a villan was a freeman,
and this notwithstanding the concluding words of the law, et
postm sint omnes villani in franco plegio, which must be
taken as confirming an old truth, for the payment of one relief
— which villans before the Conquest had paid — could not have
turned an unfree man into a free one. Serjeant Hey wood adds :
Another powerful argument in favor of the supposition that villans
ranked among freemen, arises from the consideration that, unless
this had been the case, the bulk of the population of England must
have been found in the servile class. We cannot imagine that the
farmers, who held at the payment of rent, either in money or kind,
could be so very numerous as to furnish victuals for the armies which
were collected, provide members for all the tythings, and crowd the
public assemblies which were held for judicial purposes. But upon
the demesne lands of almost every lord, villans might be found, and if
they were admitted to bear the name, and partake of the privileges
of freemen, and rank with ceorls or twihinds, the difficulty vanishes
(p. 300).
atrii sedem (Imrhgeat sctl) ac officium habere quinque hidas de suo proprio
distinctum (.sunder note) in aula regis, allodii &c. ib. p. 185.
ille tunc in posterum sit jure thani ' Eodem modo per omnia de cyrlisci
(th'-gen rihtas) dignus. — Hcgwood, p. vel villani wera fieri debet secundum
184. Text. Boff. 46 has for colonits of modum suum, sicnt de duodecies cen-
the above, villanus. " Et si villanus ita teno diximus. — LI. Hen. i. 76 ; Wilkins,
crevisset sua probitate, quod pleniter 270, in Hcywood, p. 295 n.
ON "BONDMAN." xli
Professor Pearson looks on the villans as ' bond upon bond
land,' and as to the numbers of them and the freemen and the
population generally at Domesday, gives Sir Henry Ellis's and
Sir James Macintosh's calculations as follows :
We may probably place it [the population] at rather over than
under 1,800,000 ; a number which may seem small, but which was not
doubled till the reign of Charles II., six hundred years later. Re-
verting to the actual survey, we find about two thousand persons
who held immediately of the king (E 1400, M 1599), or who were
attached to the king's person (M 326), or who had no holding, but
were free to serve as they would (M 213). The second class, the
free upon bond-land, comprised more than 50,000 ; under-tenants or
vavasors (E 7171, M 2899) ; burghers (E 7968, M 17,105); socmen
(E 23,072, M 23,404) ; freemen, holding by military service, or
having been degraded into tenants to obtain protection (E 14,284) ;
and ecclesiastics (E 994, M 1564). The largest class of all was the
semi-servile. Of these villeins (E 108,407, M 102,704), and bordars, 1
or cottiers (E 88,922, M 80,320), make up the mass, about 200,000
in all. They were bond upon bond-land, that is to say, their land
owed a certain tribute to its owner, and they owed certain services
to the land ; they could not quit it without permission from their
lord. But they were not mere property; they could not be sold off
the soil into service of a different kind, like the few slaves who still
remained in England, and who numbered roughly about 25,000.
The large number of the middle classes, and the small number of
slaves, are points in this estimate that deserve consideration. It is
clear that the conquest did not introduce any new refinement in ser-
vitude. In a matter where we have no certain data, all statements
must be made guardedly ; but the language of chroniclers and laws,
and the probabilities of what would result from the anarchy and war
that had so long desolated England under its native kings induce a
belief that the conquest was a gain to all classes, except the highest,
in matters of freedom. In Essex the number of freemen positively
increased, and the change may probably be ascribed to the growing
wool-trade with Flanders, as we find sheep multiplying on the great
estates, and with the change from arable to pasture-land fewer labour-
ers would be required. The fact that the large and privileged class of
soc-men was especially numerous in two counties, Norfolk and Suffolk,
in which a desperate revolt had been pitilessly put down, seems to
show that existing rights were not lightly tampered with. In Bed-
fordshire, however, the soc-men were degraded to serfs, probably
through the lawless dealing of its Angevine sheriff, Raoul Taillebois,
and the county accordingly fell off in rental beyond any other in
1 Heywood draws a distinction be- &c, who are generally mentioned after
tween the villans and bordars, cottars, them in Domesday.
xlii ON "BONDMAN."
England south of Humber, though it Lad enjoyed a singular ex-
emption from all the ravages of war.
The concluding paragraph of the foregoing extract is printed
because in it is, forme, pointed out the true cause of the villan's
hardships, of the exactions of which his class so bitterly com-
plained, the character of the Norman baron, and his power over
his dependants. The thirtieth law of Henry I. speaks in mode-
rated phrase the spirit of the earlier time. It calls the villans
with the cocseti and pardingi (probably bondmen inferior to
the villans) hujusmodi viles vel inopes personal, declares them
disqualified to be reckoned among judges, excludes them from
bringing any civil suits in the county or hundred courts, and
refers them, for the redress of injuries, to the courts of their
own barons (Hey wood, p. 291). 1
And it is (I believe) precisely because Edward I. made a
resolute attempt to break down this power of the barons over
their villans, 2 which must have often been awfully abused, — and
not only tried to, but did to some extent substitute his own
judges' court for the barons' one 3 — thereby rescuing many a
villan from a bondman's fate ; it is for this reason that he is
the hero of our ballad of John de Reeve. Not only for the
long shanks with which he strode against Wales, or the hammer
he wielded against Scotland, was the first king who conceived
and fought for the unity of Great Britain dear to the villans of
1 Villani vero, vel cocseti vel pardingi inquiries of this Commission the first
vel qui sunt hujusmodi viles vel inopes chapter of the Statute of Gloucester,
personse, non sunt inter legum judices relating to Liberties, Franchises and Quo
numerandi, unde nee in hundredo vel Warranto (by what warrant the Parties
comitatu pecuniam suam, vel domino- held or claimed) was founded (ib.).
rum suorum forisfaciunt, si jnstitiam 3 See below, and also the Statute of
sine judicio dimittant, sed summonitis 4 Edw. I. A Statute concerning Jus-
terrarum dominis inforcietur placitum tices being assigned, called Bageman.
termino competent!, si fuerint vel non " It is accorded by our Lord the King,
fuerint antea summoniti cum secuti jus and by his Council, that Justices shall
Ee&timatis. — LI. Hen. i.e. 30; Wilkins, 248, go throughout the Land to inquire, hear,
in Hcywood, p. 292. and determine all the Complaints and
2 One of the first Acts of his (Edward Suits for Trespasses committed within
I.'s) Administration, after his Arrival these twenty-five years past, before the
from the Holy Land, was to inquire into Feast of Saint Michael, in the fourth
the State of the Demesnes, and of the year of King Edward ; as well by the
Eights and Eevenues of the Crown, and King's Bailiffs & Officers as by other
concerning the Conduct of the Sheriffs Bailiffs, & by all other Persons whom-
and other Officers and Ministers, who soever. And this is to be understood
had defrauded the King and grievously as well of outrageous Takings, and all
oppressed the People (Annals of Waver- Manner of Trespasses, Quarrels, and
ley, 235) Hundred Bolls, i. 10. On the Offences done unto the King and othors,
ON " BONDMAN. xliii
his own ' and after times. His steps and his blows came nearer
their homes, and did something to clear oppressors out of their
path. When in easier days they could sing of olden time, they
gave the long king a merry night with three of their kin, and
remembered with gratitude England's u first thoroughly consti-
tutional " sovereign. This I gather from one of a series of
interesting articles on the " Eights, Disabilities, and Wages of
the English Peasantry " in the new Series of the Law Maga-
zine and Review. But I am anticipating.
In the time of Edward I. bondage was looked upon as no part of
the common law ; it existed by sufferance and by local usage, and
was recognised^ but only barely tolerated by the law. The law was
on the side of freedom. A leaper or land-loper, as a fugitive was
called, could rarely be recovered in a summary manner ; if he chose
to deny his bondage, the writ of niefty did not give the Sheriff autho-
rity to seize him ; the question of his condition had to stand over until
the Assizes, or had to be argued in the Court of Common Pleas. —
Law Mag. 1862, vol. xiii, p. 38-9.
We need not attribute a long range of foresight, or very enlight-
ened views of freedom, to the counsellors of Edward I. Their re-
sistance to villenage was instinctive rather than deliberate. Yillen-
age in their eyes appeared to be a consequence of those powers of
local jurisdiction which had been indispensable in former times on
account of the weakness of the central power, but were no longer
wanted since the central power had become truly imperial. The
same landlords who claimed a right to keep their dependents in
bondage, usually claimed some degree of judicial power ; they
claimed to have a more or less extensive cognizance over crimes
committed, and criminals arrested within their precincts. Such a
claim could only rest upon prescription ; any such pretension not
touched in the Inquests heretofore found Gloucester or Quo Warranto of 6
by the King's command, as of Trespasses Edw. I.
committed since. And the King willeth, " And the Sheriffs shall cause it to be
that for Relief of the People {pour le commonly proclaimed throughout their
allcgaunce del poeple) and speedy execu- Bailliwicks, that is to say, in Cities,
tion of Justice, That the Complaints Boroughs, Market towns, and else-
of every one be heard before the afore- where, that all those who claim to have
said Justices, & determined, as well by any Franchises, by the Charters of the
Writ as without, according to the Arti- King's Predecessors, Kings of England,
cles delivered unto the same Justices ; or in other manner, shall come before
& this is to be understood as well withiu the King, or before the Justices in
Franchise as without. Also the King Eyre, at a certain day and place, to show
willeth that the same Justices do hear what sort of Franchise they claim to
and determine the Complaints of those have, and by what Warrant."
who will complain of Matters done by ' I do not forget the groans of " The
any one contrary to the King's Statutes, Song of the Husbandman " (temp,
as well of what concerneth the King as Edw. I.) printed in Wright's Political
the people." See also the Statutes of Sotigs for the Camden Society.
xliv ON " BONDMAN."
supported by immemorial usage would soon be upset by the King's
attorney. The general Government struggled hard to extend its
jurisdiction, to extinguish the private courts, to bring as many cases
as possible before the Courts at Westminster, and before the Justices
in Eyre. The private courts were not abolished, but gradually
superseded. After all that the lords could do to keep their villeins
from Assizes, villeins constantly became jurors, and bond-lands were
constantly drawn into the King's Courts, and were thus in the way
to be drawn into freeholds. Perhaps every circuit of the judges
emancipated a number of bondmen. — lb. p. 40.
In seeking for the light in which the Norman baron would
regard his Saxon villans, I think that Mr. Thomas Wright l is
justified in his adduction of the following instances,
The chronicler Benoit (as well as his rival Wace) extols Duke
Richard II. for the hatred which he bore towards the agricultural
or servile class : " he would suffer none but knights to have employ-
ment in his house ; never was a villan or one of rustic blood ad-
mitted into his intimacy ; for the villan, forsooth, is always han-
kering after the filth in which he was bred." — p. 237,
]>e )>ridde cume'5 efter, & is The third flatterer cometh
wurst fikelare, ase ich er seide : after, and is the worse, as I said
vor he preiseS f>ene vuele, & before, for he praiseth the wicked
his vuele deden, ase J>e ]>e seiS to and his evil deeds ; as he who
]>e knihte ]>et robbed his poirre said to the knight that robbed his
men, "A, sire! hwat tu dest poor vassals, "Ah, sire! truly
wel. Uor euere me schal J^ene thou doest well. For men ought
cheorl pilken & peolien : uor ahvays to pluck and pillage the
he is ase ]>e wioi, J>et sprutteft churl ; for he is like the willow,
ut ]>e betere ]>cet me hine ofte which sprouteth out the better
cropped." that it is often cropped.
— Ancren Riwle (? ab. 1230 a.d.) p. 87, Camden Soc. 1853 (quoted
in part by Wright).
and in referring to those most interesting Norman-French
satires on the villans that M. Francisque Michel published, and
which contain such passages as the following :
Que Diex lor envoit grant meschief,
Et mal au cuer, et mal au chief,
Mai es bouche, et pis es dens,
Et mal dehors, et mal dedens . . .
Et le mal c'on dist ne-me-touehe,
Mal en orelle. et mal en bouche !
(Dcs XXIII ManUres de Vilains, Paris, 1833, p. 12.)
1 Paper on the political condition of Middle Ages, in Archceoloyict, vol. xxx.
the English Peasantry during the p. 205-44.
ON " BONDMAN." xlv
" Why should villans eat beef, or any dainty food ? " inquires the
writer of Le Despit au Vilain ; "they ought to eat, for their Sunday
diet, nettles, reeds, briars, and straw, while pea shells are good
enough for their every-day food. . . . They ought to go forth naked,
on bare feet in the meadows to eat grass with the horned oxen. . . .
The share of the villan is folly, and sottishness and filth ; if all the
goods and all the gold of this world were his, the villan would be
but a villan still."— Wright, p. 238. 1
Though Mr. Wright's conclusion as to " the condition of the
English peasant or villan during the 12th, 13th, and 14th cen-
turies " may be exaggerated, yet much truth in it there must be :
Tied to the ground on which he was born in a state of galling
bondage, exposed to daily insult and oppression, he served a master
who was a stranger to him both by blood and language. The object
of his lord's extortions, frequently plundered with impunity, and
heavily taxed by the king, he received in return only an imperfect
and precarious security for his person or his property. The villan
was virtually an outlaw ; he could not legally inherit or hold " lord-
ship," and he could bring no action, and, as it appears, give no testi-
mony in a court of law. He was not even capable of giving educa-
tion to his children, or of putting them to a trade, unless he had
previously been able to obtain or purchase their freedom, which
depended on his own pecuniary means, and on the will and caprice
of the lord of the soil.
All Norman barons were not brutes of the Ivo Taillebois 2
type, but I look on it as certain that the bitter cry of the villans
which reaches us from the pages of the old chroniclers and
writers is not a mere bit of rhetoric, but speaks what the villans
and poor really suffered and felt.
I also look to the generations immediately succeeding the
Conquest for the growth of the legal view of villanage and its
consequences which is stated by Littleton (ab. 1480 a.d.) and
1 On the property needed for a Nor- and as the Chronicle declares, " he
man villan to marry on, see the tract twisted, crashed, tortured, tore, impri-
De I' Oustillenient cm Villain (xiii e siecle) soned and excruciated them." See also
Paris 1863. Henry of Huntingdon's account of
2 He was one of the most cruel and Robert de Belesme, Earl of Shropshire,
hateful scoundrels who ever defaced " He preferred the slaughter of his cap-
God's earth. He used to make the tives to their ransom. He tore out the
poor Saxons serve him on bended knee, eyes of his own children, when in sport
and then in requital burned their houses, they hid their faces under his cloak,
drowned their cattle, and set his bull- He impaled persons of both sexes on
dogs to torment them. With diabolical stakes. To butcher men in the most
cruelty he made them incapable of work horrible manner was to him an agree-
by breaking their limbs and backs ; — able feast." (Faivar.)
xlvi ON " BONDMAN.'
Coke, among' others, from Bracton, Fleta, &c. and which justi-
fied any amount of rapacity and exaction on the part of the
feudal superior. There were two classes of villans, 1. regardant,
attached to the soil of a manor, and sold with it like a cowshed
or an ox, but seemingly not liable to be removed from it, though
Littleton's words allow the removal ; 2. in gross, landless, and
attached to the person of a lord, and saleable or grantable to
another lord, like a chattel.
Littleton translated (ed. 1813). § 181. Also there is a villein re-
gardant, and a villein in gross. A villein regardant is, as if a man
be seised of a manor to which a villein is regardant, and he which
is seised of the said manor, or they whose estate be both in the
same manor, have been seised of the villein and of his ancestors
as villeins and neifs ! regardant to the same manor, time out of
memory of man. And villein in gross is where a man is seised of
a manor, whereunto a villein is regardant, and granteth the same
villein by his deed to another ; then he is a villein in gross, and not
regardant.
§ 172. Tennre in villenage, is most properly when a villein
holcleth of his lord, to whom he is a villein, certain lands or tene-
ments according to the custom of the manor, or otherwise at the
will of his lord, and to do his lord villein service, as to carry and
recarry the dung of his lord ont of the city, or out of his lord's
manor, unto the land of his lord, and to spread the same upon the
land, and such like.
*■>
Or as Coke puts it, fol. 120 b.
He is called regardant to the mannour, because he had the
charge to do all base or villenous services within the same, and to
gard and keepe the same from all filthie or loathsome things that
might annoy it : and his service is not certaine, but he must have
regard to that which is commanded unto him. And therefore he
is called regardant, a quo prcestandum servitium incertum et inde-
terminatum, ubi scire non potuit vesjoere quale servitium fieri debet
mane, viz. ubi qtcis facer e tenetur quicquid ei prceceptum fuerit
(Bract, li. 2, fo. 26, Mir. ca. 2, sect. 12) as before hath beene ob-
served (vid. sect. 84).
He says also at fol. 121 b.
Tilings incorporeall which lye in grant, as advowsons, villeins,
commons, and the like, many be appendant to things corporeall,
as a mannour, house, or lands.
As illustrations of the truth and the working of these legal
1 A woman which is villein is called a neif, § 186.
ON " BONDMAN." xlvii
doctrines, take the following instances out of many. About
1250 a.d., says Mr. Wright in Arckaeol. vol. xxx, quoting
Madox's Formulare Anglicanum 318-418,
The abbot and convent of Bruerne sold " Hugh the shepherd,
their naif or viUan of Certelle, with all his chattels and all his
progeny, for 4s. sterling; " and the abbot bought of Matilda, relict
of John the physician, for 20s., " Richard, son of William de
Estende of Linharn, her viUan, with all his chattels and all his
progeny;" and for half a mark of silver, a villan of Philip de
Mandeville " with all his chattels and all his progeny."
; Early in Henry III. (1216-72 A.d. his reign) Walter de Beau-
champ granted by charter " all the land which Richard de Grafton
held of him, and Richard himself, with all his offspring." . . In
1317 Roger de Felton gave to Geoffry Foune certain lands, tene-
ments &c. in the town and territory of Glanton, " with all his
villans in the same town, and with their chattels and offspring."
We may also note the dictum of CoweFs Institutes: " Villaines
are not to marry without consent of their patrons." — W. Cr.'s
translation, 1651, p. 24.
But the sharpest pinch of the matter lay in the theory — and
practice often, I do not doubt — that all the villan's goods were his
lord's, 1 that whatever the lord took from him, he had no remedy
against the lord for.
"o
Sect. 189, fol. 123 b. Also, every villein is able and free to sue all
manner of actions against everie person, except against his lord, to
whom he is villeine.
On which Coke says :
For a villeine shall not have an appeale of robberie against his
lord, for that he may lawfully take the goods of the villeine as his
own (18 Edw. 3, 32 ; 11 Hen. 4, 93 ; 1 Hen. 4, 6 ; 29 Hen. 6, tit.
Coron. 17). And there is no diversitie herein, whether he be a
vilein regardant or in grosse, although some have said the contrary.
And look at what early book you will, — Homilies, Political
Songs, Robert of Brunne 2 , Chaucer, Gower, &c. — if it touches
the subject at all, you are sure to find the lords' and their
stewards' arbitrary extortions complained of and reproved.
Before quitting this branch of the subject it may be well to
quote on it the words of the editor of Domesday, Sir Henry
1 Cp. the extract from Chaucer, p. 2 See the quotation from his Hand-
554-5 below. lyJig Synne below.
xlviii on "eondman. v
Ellis. After a longish quotation from Blackstone's Commentaries
upon the villani, he says (General Introduction to Domesday
Book, vol. i. p. 80) :
There are, however, numerous entries in the Domesday Survey
which indicate the Villani of that period to have been very different
from Bondmen. They appear to have answered to the Saxon
Ceorls, while the Servi answered to the Deowas or Esnen. By a
degradation of the Ceorls and an improvement in the state of the
Esnen, the two classes were brought gradually nearer together, till
at last the military oppression of the Normans thrusting down all
degrees of tenants and servants into one common slavery, or at
least into strict dependance, one name was adopted for both of them
as a generic term, that of Villeins regardant.
The next questions are, how long were the words bonde and
bondman used for the villan class ; and when did their bondage
cease ; or at least, did it continue, and if so, with what amelior-
ation did it continue, up to the time when our ballad may be
supposed to have been written ?
As the names require extracts, the two questions may be
treated together.
Archdeacon Hale, writing of the land and villans of the
Priory of St. Mary's, Worcester, in or about 1240 a.d. says:
The quantity of land in villenage in each manor being fixed, and
the quantity of labour due from it fixed also, it follows that the
lords of manors were not arbitrary masters who had unlimited
power over the person and property of these tenants. There is,
however, too much reason to believe that, taking into account the
labour of various kinds to which the holder of a small quantity of
villan land was liable, he paid what was equivalent to a high rent.
His position as a holder of land, which would descend to his family,
was superior to that of the modern labourer ; and yet he might not
be better off in a pecuniary point of view. His place in society
was marked also by the obligation to give " Thac et Thol, auxilium
et merchet, et in obitu melius catallum." (Thac was " Pig-money,
a payment made by the villans to the lord in the autumn for
every pig (the sows excepted), of a year old one penny, and under the
year a halfpenny. Thol, the Penny paid by the villans for licence
to sell a horse or ox." Hale, p. xx, xli. On Thol, see also p. lii.)
This fixity of rent, and Professor Kogers's pleasant view of
things, make one side of the question; the legal power of the
lord over all his villan's property, and the exactions out of him
complained of by preachers, poets, and writers, the other.
In Layamon the word bonde is used once, in the de-
on "bondman." xlix
scription of the treacherous slaughter of Vortiger and his
companions by Hengest and his :
Earlier text, 1200-20. Later text, bef. 1300.
>er wes ol Salesburi J>ar was a bond of Salusburi,
an oht bonde icumen ; |>at bar on his honde
senne muchelne msein clubbe ane mochele club,
he bar on his rugge. for to broke stones.
The earlier text Sir F. Madden translates :
There was a hold churl l of Salisbury come; he bore on his back
a great strong club.
In one of a series of interesting articles on the " Eights,
Disabilities, and Wages of the Ancient English Peasantry," in
the Law Magazine and Review, New Series, xi. 259, &c, I find
at p. 263, under the date of 1279 a.d.
At the same place [Mollond at Castle Camps, in the south-eastern
corner of Cambridgeshire] there "were several [27] tenants, [four of
whom are women,] described as Bondi, bondmen. 2 One of them [i.e.
each, except 12 who held in couples] held 16 acres of land in villen-
age. It does not appear that he paid any mail or gable. He re-
turned a goose and a hen, worth 3d., 20 eggs worth ±&., and a
quarter of oats worth 12d. He worked for the lord twice a week
from Michaelmas to Pentecost, and thrice a week from Pentecost to
Michaelmas, and ploughed nine acres in the year. It is plain that
this man was an operative tenant. 3
Haveloh the Dane comes next, and in it the bondman is the
peasant or ploughman:
Thider komen bothe stronge and wayke ;
Thider komen lesse and more,
That in the borw thanne weren thore ;
Champiouns, and starke laddes,
Bondemen with hero gaddes,
Als he comen fro the plow ;
There was sembling inow :
(ed. Madden, p. 39, 1. 1012-1018.)
Another drem dremede me ek,
That ich fley over the salte se
Til Engeland, and al with me
That euere was in Denemark lyues,
1 Ceorl is used in the book in the gallinaw, & valewt iij d. ; xx. ova qum
general sense of man. valent oholum [±d.], & j quaxterium
2 PBondes, who might be freemen. aven« quod valet" xijd., & faeit a festo
Thoy are given between the Customary Sawed Micharlis usqwe Tentccostam, etc.
Tenants and the Cottars. —2 Hundred Bolls (ed. 1818), 425,
8 Bondi. Hugo Hugo tenet xvi. acras col. 1.
terve in villenagio, & dat j aucam et j
VOL. II, d
1 ON "BONDMAN."
But bondemen, and here wines,
And that ich kom til Engelond,
Al closede it intil min hond,
And Goldeboro y gaf the : —
{The same, p. 50, 1. 1304-1311.)
In the Song of the Husbandman, of the reign of Edward I.
(1272-1307 a.d.) in Wright's Political Songs, Camden Soc.
p. 150, boncle represents the " peasant" class.
Thus me pileth the pore, and pyketh ful clene,
The ryche raymeth withouten eny ryht ;
Ar londes and ar leodes liggeth fol lene,
Thorh b[i]ddyng of baylyfs such harm heth hight.
Meni of religione we halt hem ful hone,
Baroim and boncle, the clerc and the knyght.
(MS. Harl. 2253, leaf 64.)
In 1297, taking that as Robert of Gloucester's date, he says
of William the Conqueror and his ' high men : '
Hii to-draweth ]>e sely boncle men, as wolde hem milde ywys. —
ii. 370.
which the latter reading gives as
Hii tormenteth hure tenauntes, as hulde hem they wolde.
Again in one of the Lives of Saints, said to have been written
by Robert of Gloucester, is this passage :
If a bondemaii hadde a sone : to elergie idrawe,
He ne scholde, without his loverdes leve : not icrouned beo.
(ab. 1300-10 a.d. Life of Beket, 1. 552.)
Robert of Brunne, in the lifelike sketch which he gives us of
the England — or, at least, the Lincolnshire — of 1303, as he
tells the men of his day of their sins, of course does not forget
the bondman and his lord, of course remembers the poor :
Blessyd be alle poore men,
For God almy3ty lonej? >em.
{Handlyng Bynne, p. 180, 1. 5741-2.)
One tale that he tells shows a certain independence on the
part of a bondman, and I therefore take that first, from the
Handlyng Synne, p. 269-70. In a Norfolk village a knight's
bouse and homestead (manor) were near the churchyard,
into which his herdsmen let his cattle, and they defiled the
graves. A boncle man saw that, was woe that the beasts
should there go, went to the lord, and said, " Lord, your herds-
men do wrong to let your beasts defile these graves. Where
ON "bondman." li
men's bones lie, beasts should do no nastiness." The Lord's
answer was "somewhat vile," "A pretty thing indeed to honour
such churls' bones! What honour need men pay to such churls'
livid bodies?" And then the bonde-man said him words full
well together laid:
The lord that made of earth-e, earls,
Of the same earth made he churls :
Earles might, and lordes stut, (strut)
As ehurles shall in earth be put,
Earles, ehurles, all at ones ; (once)
Shall none know your, from our, bones.
Which reproof the lord took in good part (few would have
done so, says Robert of Brunne '), and promised that his beasts
should no more break into the churchyard.
But still there is evidence enough in the Handlyng Synne
that if a lord wanted a bondman's wife or daughter, he would
not only carry her off, but brag of it afterwards (p. 231, 1.
7420-7) ; and as to the treatment of the poor by their superiors,
Robert of Brunne asks — he is not here translating Wadington —
Lord, how shul bese robbers fare,
pat be pore pepyl pelyn ful bare, —
Erles, knygtes, and barouns
And ouber lordynges of tounnes,
Justyses, shryues and baylyuys,
pat be lawes alle to-ryues,
And be pore men alle to-pyle ?
To ryche men do bey but as bey wylle. —
(p. 212, 1. 6790-7.)
He goes on denouncing them who " pyle and bete many pore
men," and contrasts their conduct with that of Dives to Lazarus,
whom Dives did not rob of gold or fee,
He dyde but lete an hounde hym to :
Ye ryche men, weyl wers 30 do !
Ye wyl noun houndes to hem lete,
But, 36 self, hem sle and bete.
He ne dyde but wernede hym of hys mete ;
And 3e robbe al bat 3e mow gete.
Ye are as Dyxies bat wyl naghte 3gue ;
And wers : for 3e robbe bat bey [the poor] shulde by lyue.
(Handlyng Synne, p. 213, 1. 6812-19.)
In a previous passage the lords' arbitrary exactions from
1 byr are but fewe lordes now Lordynges, — byr are ynow of bo ;
bat turne a wrde so wel to prow ; Of gentyl men, )>yr are but fo
But who seyb hem any skylle, [few].
Mysseye a3en fouly bey wylle.
(12
Hi ON "BONDMAN."
men in bondage — or vileynage as Wadington has it — are ex-
pressly mentioned :
And 3yf a lorde of a tounne
Robbe his men oute of resoune,
)>oghe hyt be yn bondage,
A^ens ry3t lie dobe outrage.
He shal so take bat he [the bondman] may lyue,
And as lawe of londe wyl for3yue ;
For ^yf he take ouer mesure,
Lytyl tyme shal hyt dure.
J>oghe God haue jeue be seynorye,
He 3af hym no leue to do robborye ;
For god hab ordeyned al mennys state,
How to lyue, and yn what gate ;
And bo^t he 3yue one ouer ober my3t,
He wyl bat he do hym but ry3t.
J>ys ys be ry3t of Goddys lokyng :
3elde euery man hys owne byng.
But God takeb euermore veniaunce
Of lordys, for swych myschaunce,
For swych robbery bat bey make,
J>at ofte of be poure men take.
He then tells a tale of what a Knight suffered in Purgatory
(or hell) fire, for robbing a poor man of a cloth, and winds
up with the moral :
Certys befte rytf wykkede ys . . .
Namly • pore men for to pele
Or robbe or bete wyb-oute skyle. 2
The next reference to the word in Stratmann's Dictionary is
to William and the Werwolf, (better, William of Palerne:
E. E. Text Soc. 1868, Extra Series,) of ab. 1340 a.d. 1. 216.
do quickliche crie Jmrth eche curatre of J>i king-riche
hat barou??s burgeys & bonde 3 & alle ober burnes
J>at mowe wi3tly in any wise walken a-boute
bat bei wende wi3tly as wide as bi reaume.
{William and Werwolf, p. 77, ed. Madden.)
In William of Malvern's 4 Vision of Piers Ploughman, about
1362 a.d. we have:
1 especially. < Mr. Hales's name for the author of
reason. the Vision, who is sometimes called
3 Bonde, n. S. Bondsmen, villains ; as Langland. As there is no real evidence
opposed to the orders of barons and for the name Langland, I prefer the
burgesses, IT.— Glossary to the above. vaguer title William of Malvern, though
But the bonde are still one of the three Malvern is only mentioned in the first
principal orders of men, as shown by of the poems of which the Vision is
the " other burnes " who are not worth composed,
specifying.— Skeat.
ON " BONDMAN.'
liii
Barouns and Burgeis ■ and Bondc-men also
I sau3 in bat Semble. — (p. 6, 1. 90, ed. Skeat.)
In \v light's edition of the Vision, i. 88, 1. 2859 is —
And as a bonde-m?ca. of his bacon his berde was bidraveled.
And part of the knight's duty is —
And misbeode bou not \>i bondemen • be beter bou schalt spede.
(Pas. vii. 1. 45, Vernon Text, ed. Skeat, p. 76.)
In the third text of the Vision we read —
Bondmen and bastardes • and beggers children,
These bylongeth to labour ■ and lordes children sholde serven,
Bothe God and good men • as here degree asketh
•
And sith, bondemenne barnes ■ han be made bisshopes,
And barnes bastardes ■ han ben archidekenes ;
And sopers and here sones ■ for selver han be knyghtes,
And lordene sones here laboreres.— (ab. 1380. Vision of Piers Plowman.
Whitaker's text. Passus Sextus.)
Mr. Skeat says that the various readings in the MSS. of the
Vision show that bondage or bondages was used for bonde-
men, and that bonde is thus connected with the verb to bind.
Chaucer uses bondemen and bondefolk 1 as the equivalents of
cherls and thralles in his Persones Tale, de Avaritia (p. 282 ed.
Wright, quoted below, p. 554-5), while in The % Frere's Tale the
use is of one bound :
Disposith youre hertes to withstonde
The fend, that wolde make yow thral and bonde. 2
The year 1394, or thereabouts, gives us that wonderful
picture of a bondeman or ploughman whom its painter saw,
1 And fortherover, ther as the lawe
sayth, that temporel goodes of bondefolk
been the goodes of her lordes ; ye, that
is to understonde, the goodes of the
imperour, to defende hem in here righte,
beut not to robbe hem ne to reve hem.
2 In the Elegy on the Death of King
Edward III. the phrase " bide her
bonde" is glossed "remain as their
captive."
This goode schip, I may remeno
[so]
To the Chilvalrye of this londe,
Sum time thei counted noujt a bene.
Beo al Ffrance Ich understonde
Thei tok & slou3 hem with heore
honde
The power of Ffrance both smal
and grete,
And brou^t ther Kyng hider to bide
her bonde.
And nou ri3t sone hit [the ship]
is for3ete.
Myrc's use of bonde is this:
Fyrst bow moste bys mynne,
What he ys bat doth be synne,
Wheber hyt be heo or he,
I'ongc or olde, bonde, or fre,
Pore or ryche, or in offys.
(Ab. 1430, Myrc, Instructions for
Parish Priests, p. 47.)
llV ON " BONDMAN."
and which will not be out of the mind of anyone who has
studied it :
And as y wente be j>e waie ■ wepynge for sorowe,
[I] sei3 a sely man me by ■ opon be plow hongen.
His cote was of a cloute " i>at cary was y-called,
His hod was hill of holes ' & his heer oute,
Wib his knopped schon ■ clouted full bykke ;
His ton toteden out • as he ]pe londe treddede,
His hosen ouerhongen his hokschynes ■ on eueriche a side,
Al beslombred in fen • as he be plow folwede ;
Twey myteynes, as mete ' maad all of cloutes ;
pe fyngers weren for-werd ■ & ful of fen honged.
pis whit waselede in bo [fen] ■ almost to be ancle,
Foure roberen hym by-forn ' )>at feble were [worsen] ;
Men myjte reken ieh a ryb " so reufull bey weren.
His wijf walked him wib " wib a longe gode,
In a cutted cote ■ cutted full hey3e,
Wrapped in a wynwe schete ■ to weren hire fro weders,'
Barfote on be bare ijs ■ \>at be blod folwede.
And at be londes ende laye ■ a litell crom-bolle,
And \>eron lay a litell childe ■ lapped in cloutes,
And tweyne of tweie 3eres olde • opon a-no \>er syde,
And alle bey songen o songe • bat sorwe was to heren ;
pey crieden alle o cry • a carefull note.
(Pierce the Ploughman's Crede, 1. 420-441, ed. Skeat, 1867.)
Those last two lines sum up for me the English history of the
English poor (as has been said elsewhere), it was " full of
care."
Frater Galfridus, about 1440, has in the Promptorium
Bonde, as a man or woman, Servus, serva.
Bondman . Servus, nativus [neif.]
Bondschepe . Nativitas : but Bondage . Servitus.
That the lord's power over his bondmen was a reality, and
that he " frequently took advantage of his power to tyrannize,
is proved by the example of Sir Simon Burley, the tutor of
Richard II., who seized forcibly an industrious artizan at
Grravesend, on the plea of his being his escaped bondsman, and,
when his exorbitant demand was refused, threw him into the
prison of Rochester Castle." — (Wright in Archceol. xxx. 235.)
And that the Lord's power over his bondman existed into the
16th century is shown by the following extracts. 2
1 It is a wyues occupation, to wynowc hay, come, and suche other. ? 1523.
all manner of comes, to make malte, to — Fitzherbert's Husbandry, ed. 1767,
washe and wrynge, to make heye, shere p. 92.
come, and in time of node to helpe her 2 Mr. "Wright says, "We can trace
husbande to fyll the mucke-wayne or these charters of manumission [of rib
dounge-carte, dryue the ploughe, to loode lans] down to a very late period. In 2
ON "bondman." lv
In 1519 among the Duke of Buckingham's payments in Prof.
Brewer's Calendar, in., Pt. i. p. 498, is —
25 March, to Walter Parker, 40£, " restored to him for a fine by
nim made to me, for that he was my bondman, and made free during
his life, for that I gave him a patent."
In 1521 on
" The Duke's Lands . . at Caurs (in Wales) are " Many bondmen
both rich and poor. — ib. p. 509.
In 1523 (?), Fitzherbert says :
Customary tenauntes/ are those that holde their landes of their
lorde by copye of courte role/ after the custome of the manere. And
there may be many tenau>ites with-in the same manere y* have no
copyes/ and yet holde be lyke custome and seruyce at the wyll of the
lorde. and in myne opinyon/ it began soone after the conquest/ whan
Wyllyam Conquerour had conquered this realme/ he rewarded all
those that came with hym in his voyage royall accordyng to their
degre. And to honourable men he gaue/ lordshippes/ maners/ landes/
and tenementes/ with all the inhabytau«tes/ men and women dwell-
yng in the same/ to do with them at their pleasure. And those
honourable men thought y* they must nedes haue seruauntes and
tenauwtes/ and their landes occupyed with tyllage. Wherfore they
pardoned the inhabytauntes of their lyues/ and caused them to do
all maner of seruyce that was to be done/ were it neuer so vyle / and
caused them to occupye their landes and tenementes in tyllage and
toke of them suche re?ttes/ customes/ and seruyces/ as it pleased
them to haue. And also toke all their goodes & catell at all tymes
at their pleasure/ and called them their bonde wen. and sythe that
tyme/ many noble men bothe spirytuall and temporall, of their godly
disposycion/ haue made to dyuers of the sayd bonde men manu-
missions, and graunted them fredome and lybertie. and set to them
their landes and tenementes to occupy/ after dyuers maners of rentes/
customes/ and seruyces, the whiche is vsed in dyuers places vnto this
daye. how be it in some places the bonde men contynue as yet/ the
whiche me semeth is the grettest inconuenye»t that nowe is suffred
by the lawe. That is, to haue any christen man bonden to another/
and to haue the rule of his body/ landes and goodes/ that his wife
chyldren and seruauntes have laboured/ for all their lyfe tyme/ to be
so taken/ lyke as and it were extorcion or bribery. And many tymes
Ric. II., just before the peasants' insur- we have a charter of affranchisement
rection, John Wyard or ' Alspach ' by the priory of Beauvalle in 6 Hen. V.
manumits a female villan, and gives her, a.d. 1419, and another by George Nevile,
with her liberty, her goods and chattels, lord Bergerenny, as late as 2 Hen. VIII.,
and the liberty of all her offspring : and a.d. 1511."
lvi ON "BONDMAN."
by colour therof/ there be many fre men taken as bonde men/and
their landes and goodes taken fro them/ so that they shall not be
able to sue for remedy / to prove them selfe fre of blode. And that
is moost commenly / where the fre men have the same name as the
bonde men haue/ or that his auncesters of whome he is comen/ was
manumised before his byrthe. In suche cause there can nat be to
great a punysshement. for as me semeth there shulde no man be
bonde but to god/ and to his king and prince ouer hym. Quia deus
lion facit exceptionem personarum. For god maketh no excepcyon
of any person. — Fitzherbert's Bohe of Surveyeng 8f Improiomentes
Cap. xiii. fol. xxvi.
I do not carry these extracts further, because those that have
been given — and they might be ten-folded with ease — suffi-
ciently prove the reality of the hardships which the bondmen
suffered, and that certain of these hardships were in being as
late as Fitzherbert's time, about 1520. Vague talk that the
doctrine of the law-books was never carried out in practice,
that monkish writers exasperated a molehill into a mountain
&c, will not do in the face of the evidence that literature
supplies. " Master Fitzherbarde " was not a sentimentalist, but
a practical horsebreeder, farmer and surveyor, 1 and spoke of the
bondmen's evils as he would speak of his broodmares' ailments.
There is no need for us then to imagine — as Professor Eogers
does, in his very valuable and interesting History of Prices, i.
81— a cause, of which no trace has come down to us, for Wat
Tyler's rebellion. Cause enough, and to spare, there was in
the condition of the men, if only that shown in their demand
" that we, our wives and children, shall be free." Granted that
the students of literature and charters alone get from them too
dark a view of the state of the early poor, — as Mr. Wright may
have done — yet we must declare that the student of prices on
college lands alone gets a too rose-coloured view, and that the
wrongs of the bondmen were real and deep ; even Chaucer and
Froissart witness it.
On this bonde and bondeman question I conclude then, though
with much diffidence, and acknowledging the insufficiency of the
evidence for some points : 1, that the bonde was originally free,
that he was the Saxon ceorl or twihind, with a Danish name ;
2, that if not partially before, yet wholly after, the Conquest,
his class, or the greater part of it, became bondmen or villans,
bond on bond-land ; 3, that gradually they threw off their ser-
1 It must be a mistake to identify him with Sir Anthony Fitzherbe.rt.
on "bondman." lvii
vice and signs of bondage, taking the first decided step in
advance in Edward I.'s time, the second and more decided one
in Edward III. and Richard II. 's time ; 4, that in 1520 the
burden of bondage was still heavy. (It gradually disappeared, 1
except so far as our present copyhold fines and heriots repre-
sent it. Slavery was abolished by a statute of Charles II.
The attempt to abolish it in 1526 proved a vain one. Wright.)
But our bondman was John the Reeve, though no special
duties of his as Eeeve are alluded to in the Ballad. On those
duties in Anglo-Saxon times the reader may consult the
references in Thorpe's Index to the Ancient Laws, vol. i., and
section 12 of the Institutes of Polity, in vol. ii. p. 320-1.
The office of Eeeve was one that every villan was bound to
serve, and although the Laiv Magazine says it was one which
the villan rather declined and avoided, 2 it must have been
one which, in later times at least, helped to fill its holder's
pockets. The Reeve's duty was to manage his lord's demesne,
to superintend the service-tenant's work on it, to collect the
lord's dues and rent in money and kind, and submit his accounts
yearly to the auditor. As the Sloane MS. Boke of Curtesye
says of the greve or reve —
Grauys, and baylys and parker,
Schone come to acountes euery yere
Byfore \>o auditour of bo lorde onone,
pat schulde bo trew as any stone,
Yf he dose horn no ry3t lele,
To a baron of chekker bay mun hit pele.
(Babees Book, p. 318, 1. 589-94.)
And as William of Malvern savs —
1 The name seems to hare lasted The late abridgement of Jamieson
longer in Scotland than in England ; gives " Bonday Warkis, the time a
see Jamieson's Dictionary, 4to, 1825, tenant or vassal is bound to work for
Supplement : the proprietor."
" Bondage, Bonnage, .s. The desig- ' l The chief incidents of base tenure
nation given to the services due by a which affected the villein's person are
tenant to the proprietor, or by a cot- collected in one of Edward II.'s Year-
tager to the farmer. [Used in] Angus." books. (5 Ed. II.) They were, — 1. The
"Another set of payments consisted blood fine, or marriage ransom ; 2. the
in services, emphatically called Bonage faille or tallage, a variable charge, sup-
(from bondage). And these were ex- planted by regular taxation, unless it en-
acted either in seed-time, in ploughing dured under the name of chevage ; 3. the
and harrowing the proprietor's land, — obligation of undertaking the office of
or in summer, in the carriage of his reeve or bailiff, an invidious dignity
coals, or other fuel ; and in harvest, in which the villein rather declined and
cutting down his crop." — Agricultural avoided. — Law Mag. § Rev. xiii. 11.
Survey of Kincardineshire, p. 213.
lviii ON " BONDMAN."
I make Piers the Plowman my procuratour and my reve,
And registrar to receyve. 1
Eedde quod debes (v. ii. p. 411, ed. Wright).
And again —
"S l
Thanne lough ther a lord, and " by this light " seide,
" I holde it right and reson, of my reve to take
Al that myn auditour, or ellis my steward
Counseileth me bi hir acounte and my clerkes writyng.
With spiritus intellectus thei seke the reves rolles ;
And with spiritus fortitudinis fecche it I wole after."
{Vision, ii. 423.)
Need one quote Chaucer's sketch of the Reeve —
Wei cowde he kepe a gerner and a bynne ;
Ther was non auditour cowde on him wynne.
Wei wiste he by the drought, and by the reyn,
The yeeldyng of his seed, and of his greyn.
His lordes scheep, his neet, [and] his dayerie,
His swyn, his hors, his stoor, and his pultrie,
Was holly in this reeves governynge,
And by his covenaunt yaf the rekenynge,
Syn that his lord was twenti yeer of age ;
Ther couthe noman bringe him in arrerage.
Ther nas baillif, ne herde, ne other hyne,
That they ne knewe his sleight and his covyne ;
They were adrad of him, as of the deth.
His wonyng was ful fair upon an heth ;
With grene trees i-schadewed was his place.
He cowde bettre than his lord purchace.
Ful riche he was i-stored prively,
His lord wel couthe he plese subtilly,
To geve and lene him of his owne good,
And have a thank, a eoto, and eek an hood.
In youthe he lerned hadde a good mester ;
He was a wel good wright, a carpenter.
This reeve sat upon a well good stot,
That was a pomely gray, and highte Scot.
A long surcote of pers uppon he hadde,
And by his side he bar a rusty bladde.
Our Reeve too has " a rusty bladde," rides a good horse, has a
fair dwelling, and is "ful riche istored prively," but Hodgkin Long
and Hob of the Lathe are " not adrad of him as of the deth."
As he was the King's reeve and should have collected taxes 2 as
well as dues and rents, 3 he ought to have been a good scribe and
summer-up, but the ballad does not read as if he was. His
1 See the extract at the end of this 3 Toulmin Smith's Parish, p. 506,
paper, line 12 from foot. refers to a rentcharge paid to the King's
2 If Mr. Toulmin Smith be right in reeve,
his view, p. 557 note below.
ON " BONDMAN." lix
enemy is not the auditor, of whom we hear nothing, but the
courtier or purveyor who could report his wealth to the King,
and get leave, or take it, to put the screw on him. He sells his
wheat (1. 144) to get it out of sight (?) ; — money could be more
easily hidden ; — and he has a thousand pounds and some deal
more.
The supper of his pretended poverty — bean-bread, rusty
bacon, broth, lean salt beef, and sour ale, may well have been
bondman's food in Edward I.'s time, better than many got in
Edward III.'s, as William of Malvern shows {Vision, Passus VII.
1. 267-82, ed. Skeat, p. 88-9, text A) ; but could the supper of his
actual wealth, boar's head and capons, woodcocks, venison, swans,
conies, curlews, crane, heron, pigeons, partridges, and sweets of
many kinds, have been ever Eeeve's food then ? I trow not.
Chaucer's Frankeleyn couldn't have given a better spread in
Richard II.'s time, and John Kussell's Franklen in Henry VI.'s
days (ab. 1450-60 a.d., say,) hardly exceeded it:
A Fcst for a Franklin.
" A Franklen may make a feste Improberabille,
brawne with mustard is concordable,
bakon ser ued with pesofi,
beef or moton stewed smiysable,
Boyled Chykofi or capon agreable,
convenyent for be seson ;
Rosted goose & pygge fulle profitable,
Capon / Bakemete, or Custade Costable,
when eggis & crayme be geson.
berfore stuffe of household is behoveable,
Mortrowes or Iusselle ar delectable
for be second course by reson.
Than veel, lambe, kyd, or cony,
Chykoii or pigeon rosted tendurly,
bakemetcs or dowcettes with alle.
ben followynge frytowrs, & a leche lovely ;
suche seruyse in sesouw is fulle semely
To seme with bothe chambur & halle.
Then appuls & peris with spices delicately
After be terme of be yere fulle deynteithly,
with bred and chese to calk.
Spised cakes and wafurs worthily
withe bragot & methe, bus men may meryly
plese welle bothe gret & smalle."
(Bubces Booh; p. 170-1.)
lx ON "BONDMAN."
Edward I.'s order for his own coronation feast was 380 head
of cattle, 430 sheep, 450 pigs, 18 wild boars, 278 flitches of
bacon, and 19,660 capons and fowls (Macfarlane, Cab. Hist. iv.
11, referring to Eymer). Only in bacon, boar, and capons
could the king have come np to his reeve. To what date
then are we to bring the ballad down ? I don't know, and,
if the reason I have assigned for its being tacked on to
Edward I. be the right one, I don't care ; for the main
point to me is its connection with him. But taking the ballad
as it stands, the mention of the Galliard in it, 1. 530, p. 579,
shows that it was recast, if not composed, after 1541, when that
dance was introduced. Also the Northern forms baine, 1. 504,
gauge,!. 209, 343, 864, strung, 1. 332, seile, 1. 502, ryke, 1. 263,
farrand, 1. 353, 358, &c, the present no-rhymes of both and lath,
1. 623-4, 641-2, arse and worse, 1. 668-9, toieele and soule, 1.
806-7, &c, show that our version is an altered copy of a Northern
original, or Northern copy. I say copy, because if lathe is the
Anglo-Saxon IcbtS, a division of the county peculiar to Kent,
the scene of the ballad must have been Kent ; but Chaucer's use
of the word in its sense of barn, in his Reeve's Tale —
Why nad thou put the capil in the lathe ? l
and Brockett's in his Glossary of North Country Words,
Lathe or Leathe, a place for storing hay and corn in winter — a
barn.
saves us from the necessity of supposing a double transformation
of the ballad, though this would be authorised by the ascription
of it to "the south-west country" in 1. 909. The Northern
saint sworn by in 1. 744, St. William, Archbp. of York in the
12th century, tends to confirm the Northern origin, as does the
" clerke out of Lancashire " who read the roll that contained the
tale, 1. 8-12.
1 The Promptorium gives " Berne of speaking of the partition of England
lathe (or lathe P.), Horrcum," p. 33, and into shires and lathes, says " Some, as
Mr. Way says, " Lathe, which does it were roming, or rouing at the name
not occur in its proper place in the Lath, do saie that it is derived of a
Promptorium, is possibly a word of barn, which is called in Old English a
Danish introduction into the eastern lath, as they coniecture." " Horrcum est
counties," Lade, horrcum, Dan. Skinner locus ubi rcponitur annona, a barne, a
observes that " it was very commonly lathe. Grangia, lathe or grange. — Or-
used in Lancashire." At p. 288 he also tus. Orreum, granarium, lathe." — Vo-
says that Bp. Kennett notices it also as cab. Koy. MS., 17, C. xvii. Way.
a Lincolnshire word, and that Harrison,
ON "bondman." lxi
If asked to guess a date for the composition of the ballad, I
should guess the earlier half of the 15th century, while for the
recast of it I should guess the latter half of the 16th, or the
former half of the 17th. The tradition embodied in it is, I
doubt not, of the 13th century.
Let me add, before ending this long rigmarole, 1 that John the
Eeeve was a well-known typical personage, like Piers Plowman,
&c, as is shown by the following extract from a discussion on
the Real Presence in the Harleian MS. 207 :
[leaf 1],
BomiHi est sperare in domino quern et sperare
[1532.]
The Banckett of Iohan the Reve. Vnto peirs ploughman. Laurens
laborer. Thomlyn Tailyor. And hobb of the hille. with other.
[leaf 2]
[A] relacion maide. by hobb of the Lille vnto Sir Iohan the par-
iche preste vpon A comminicacion. Betwene. Iacke lobe Servyng-
man of thone p«/*tie. And. Iohan the reve. Pens plowghman.
Lawrence Laborer. Thomlyn tailyor. And hobb of the hille of thother
partie. Wherin the said Sir Iohan wold maike none Awnswer vnto
he knewe the olde vecar mynde. the wiche saide vecar wrote lyenge
in his bedd veray seeke. and delyuerde hys mynde in wrytynge. vnto
his pa/iche preste. And the said prest delyuerd the same booke to
hobb of the hille. counsellynge hym to learne it. wherebye he myght
be more able to maike better Answere to snche light fellows if he
chaunced to here any snche Comminicacion in tyme to co«ime.
Hobb of the hille said vnto sir Iohari .;. Good morow Sir Iohan .;.
And he Answered .;. Good morrowe hobb .;. Hobb said .;. Sir Iohan I
am veray glade of our metynge .;. For I am desirouse of your coun-
selle in a weightie matter Sir Iohan said. Marie ye shalle haue the
beste councelle that is in me .;. What is your matter Bie my faithe
Sir .;. yesterdaie My master [leaf 2 b.] and Iohan the reve maid a
feaste. And piers plewghman. Laurence laboror. And Thomlyn tailyor
was at dyner at our house, And I semed them at dyner. And or
halfe dyner was done, coiume in a Servynge man called Iacke Iolie.
Rent getherar vnto my ladie. For my master Iohan the reve was
Receuor this yeare : And when Iack[e] lobe was sett downe. He
demaunded whether we had any messe or no .;. And my master saide
1 I ought to apologise for its short- the delay named, I have set down
comings. It has been put together in opinions, many of which, though hastily-
great haste, Mr. Hales having been un- expressed, have not been hastily formed,
fortunately unable to treat its subject, as my long connection with working
for which Part II. has been kept back men and with Early English may
four months. Feeling obliged to say guarantee,
something on the question to excuse
lxii ON " BONDMAN."
we hadde, and trustede to haue .;. Than saide Iacke Iolie that we war
blynded for waunt of teackynge. for it is plane ydolatrie to beleue
thai the bodie and hloude of criste ar in firme of breade and wyne
ministrede in the alter, And for his purpose he Aleged Many Sayenges,
As of Martyr luther. Eocolampadius. Caralstadij. Iohan Firtz
Malangton, with many dyuerse other .;. Than peirs ploughman waxed
woundrus Angrie. and called Iacke Iolie. fals heritike. Than my
master desired them bothe to be content in his house, and to reason
the matte 1- gentlie. And thei warre bothe contente So to doo.;.
lxiii
NOTES.
p. xxx. " Evans, Pinkerton, Hurd, Ritson." Here Hurd is a mistake for Herd,
who published two vols, of Scottish Ballads. — D. ( = Alexander Dyee.)
p. 1, Chevy Chase. See Mr. Maidment's comments on this "modern version" in
his Scotish Ballads, 1868, i. 81.— F.
that "expliceth," quoth Eichard Sheale, does not mean that Sheale was the
author, but the scribe. So one of the Piers Plowman MS., (Harl. 3954)
ends — quod Heruw, &c. — Skeat.
p. 2, " That day " &c. In the " Complaynt of Scotland," which was not written
before 1547, mention is made of the " Hunttiss of Chevot," and of " The
persee and mongumrye met," as if these were the titles of two separate
ballads. That these were two distinct ballads founded on the battle of
Otterbourne, and known in Scotland by the above titles, is extremely pro-
bable ; for though, in the Scottish ballad of the " Battle of Otterbourne "
the line " The Percy and Montgomery met " occurs, the name of Cheviot is
never mentioned. Dr. Percy, in quoting the above line from the " Com-
playnt of Scotland," gives "That day, that day, that gentil day" as the
following one ; but that is, in fact, the title of another ballad or song.
Dr. Rimbault. Musical Illustrations, p. 1.
p. 5, Battle of Otterbourne. See Mr. Robert White's full account of it, with an
appendix and illustrations. London, 1857. — P.
p. 6, 1. 7 from foot : for Wold read Henry Bold. Another edition, says Mr.
E. Peacock, is a fcp. 8vo. of 39 pages. " Chevy Chase, a ballad, in Latin
Verse, by Henry Bold, accompanied by the original English Text. London,
Printed by Henry Bryer, Bridge St. Blackfriars, 1818."
p. 8, 1. 30, read/a* buckes — Ch. ( = F. J. Child.)
p. 11, 1. 123, lyons woode, beyond doubt. — Ch. layd on lode ( = a load), as Skeat
explains, is, I think, certain. — Ch.
p. 12, 1. 143, " which struck" (as in Old Ballads, 1723) is certainly the read-
ing.— Ch.
p. 14, 1. 198 : sorry you left too full : no doubt of doleful. — Ch.
p. 17, When Loue with vneonfined wings. This version is very corrupt, and inferior
to the printed copy of 1G49. See my edition of Lovelace, 1864. — Hazlitt.
p. 20, 1. 8, 16, 24, enioyes. This is exactly the reverse of what the poet meant
and wrote. — Hazlitt. The right burden is, " Know no such Liberty," but
the 4th or last stanza has " Injoy such Liberty." — F.
lxiv NOTES.
p. 21, Cloris. See my communication to Notes and Queries, 3rd Series viii. 435, and
Bell's edition of Waller. — Hazlitt.
p. 24, 1. 3. The Percy Society reprinted the edition of 1686, but imperfectly. —
Hazlitt.
p. 28, 1. 13, read yeelded.— Ch.
p. 30, In Scots poems, &c, as Percy says, we find " Hollow, my Fancie : " but
there are 17 stanzas, and many differences. The last 9 — including only the
last of those in the MS. which is also the last in the Scots Poems copy — are
said to have been " writ by Colonel Clealand of my Lord Augus's regiment,
when he was a student in the College of Edinburgh, and 1 8 years of age."
— Ch.
p. 35, 1. 2. 1639 as the date of Carew's death is only conjectural. — H. ( =
W. C. Hazlitt.)
p. 37, 1. 6. 1731. This Collection was printed in 1662, 8vo, and again, with some
changes, in 1731, 2 vols. 12mo. — H.
p. 38, 1. 22, for soine read sinne (the idea is that the Lower House sinnes when it
does sit). — Ch.
p. 39, note. Percy's Lumford is of course a penslip for Lunsford. Sir "Walter
Scott, in a note to chap. xx. of Woodstock, gives another version of the
2nd verse of this Ballad, and an account of Lunsford, but there are mistakes
in it. Scott's verse is — ■
The post who came from Coventry
Biding in a red rocket,
Did tidings tell, how Lunsford fell,
A ehilds hand in his pocket.
The same child-eating scandal is noticed in Bump Songs, pt. i. p. 65 :
From Fielding and from Vavasour,
Both ill-affected men ;
From Lunsford eke deliver us,
That eateth up children.
The best account of Lunsford that I know is in The Gentleman's Magazine,
vol. 106, pt. i. 350, 602; pt. ii. 32, 148; vol. 107, pt. i. 265. Cf. Rush-
worth Hist. Col., vol. iii. pt. i. p. 459; Add. MSS. 1519 f. 26, 6358 f. 50 f
5702 p. 118.
There is an engraving among the King's Pamphlets in the British
Museum — I cannot give the press mark — representing Sir Thomas Lunsford
at full length. In the background is a church in flames, and a soldier with
a drawn sword' pursuing a woman ; a companion is catching another woman
by her hair. Under the engraving are these lines :
I'll helpe to kill, to pillage, and destroy
All the opposers of the Prelacy.
My fortunes are grown small, my friends are less,
I'll venture, therefore, life to have redress ;
By picking, stealing, or by cutting throat es,
Although my practise cross the kingdom's votes.
p. 45, 1. 32, for witt read woe. — Ch.
p. 50, ffowfayre shee be. The earliest appearance of this song of Wither's was
in A Description of Love, 1620 ; then again it appeared at the end of Fairc
Virtue &c, 1622, unless the undated sheet in the Pepysian Library be older,
which is moro than possible. — Hazlitt.
NOTES. 1XV
p. 52, 1. 2, read hdlydom (halidom) ; Note the rhyme. — Ch.
1. 3, omit Z— Ch.
p. 53, 1. 12, Percy is right, and Mr. Chappell wrong : the rhyme is with braines, not
square. — Ch.
1. 19, drouth, for rhyme, as Percy suggests. — Ch.
1. 25, drop of, hurts metre and sense : ' will you be the taster?' is the mean-
ing. — Ch.
1. 28, Exus = Naxos of course : 29, coyle, rare. — Ch.
]. 29, coy.se should be coyle : compare 1. 2. — D.
1. 34, for of read on. — Ch.
p. 54, 1. 42, read toward : 50, sword's. — Ch.
1. 54, read Cynthia's fellow, Muses' deere, i.e. (Diana's mate, darling of the
Muses).— Ch.
p. 55, 1. 72, grace: some word like care is wanted. — Ch.
p. 56, The Grene Knight. Gaseoigne the poet, when he was on service in the Low
Countries, tells us that he acquired the nickname of The Green Knight
under circumstances of a peculiar character. — Hazlitt.
p. 63, 1. 123, note, Percy's 'gan is wrong. — Ch.
1. 126, thy should be thee: you can do nothing with the Sax. \>y. — Ch.
1. 146, 147, ren&praye, blin ; (transpose the ; and ,). — Ch.
p. 64, 168 (he had sayd nothing), qy. kele? (i.e. so have I hele). — Ch.
p. 65, note 4, read Egihson : braid is well enough explained by the A.- Sax. bradan,
here, gripe. — Ch.
p. 67, 1. 255, kell, i.e. caul, net-work for a lady's head. The note on this word is
quite from the purpose. [So it is]. Compare —
Faire be thy wives, right lovesom, white, and small :
Clere be thy virgyns, lusty under kellys.
London ! thowe art the flowre of cities all.
Dunbar. Beliq. Ant. i. 206.— F.
The line describes Bredbeddle's wife, not Sir Gawaine : see it referred to in
Madden's Glossary, to Syr Gawayne, under " kell." — D.
p. 67, 1. 236, rought = were sorry for, Sax. hreowian. — Ch.
p. 71, 1. Z49,frauce, apparently from French froisser, clash, dash, &c. — Ch.
1. 355 and note. How could "beleeue" be right? To say nothing of 1. 4"8, the
rhyme required proves it to be wrong. — D.
p. 72, 1. 364, tho seems to me more likely to be right. — Ch.
p. 74, 1. 429 : the meaning can hardly be proved about Gawaine : proved by is
gone through by, performed by, I should say. — Ch.
p. 75, 1. 461, throe : rightly explained in note. Icel. \>rdr has the same meaning
as thra in G. Doug. : and so Sax. brat, found only in composition.— Ch.
p. 76, 1. 496, other = second, as in Sax. So 1. 523.— Ch.
p. 82, 1. 68, " & heard them speake " should be " & heard him speake." — D. and Ch.
p. 83, 1. 75, the = thy.— Ch.
VOL. II. e
Jxvi NOTES.
p. 86, 1. 177, noe more, read noe moe. — D.
p. 88, 1. 211, some spending money. The author must have written something like
money for spending. — D. Read money for spending. — Ch.
1. 214, you heyre, read your Tieyre. — D.
p. 90, 1. 273, drop $ (caught from 1. 271 or 268) ; thereto makes sense. — Ch.
p. 92, 1. 336, for said read had.— Ch.
p. 94, 1. 399, fone should be. foe (unless in the concluding line of the stanza goe be
an error for gone). — D.
1. 402, read go[?i]e. — Ch.
p. 98, 1. 523, other = second : cf. 1. 496.— Ch.
1. 534, soe bee, read soe beene. — D.
p. 99, 1. 556, " for to his graue he rann " ought manifestly to be " for to his mas-
ters graue he rann " : compare 1. 543. — D.
1. 557, read followed. — Ch.
p. 104, 1. 693, thither wold he wend, ? read thither wold he right. — D.
p. 108, 1. 800, read rest.— Ch.
1. 807, why not read shivver? shimmer makes no sense. — Ch.
p. Ill, 1. 895, noe more, read noe moe. — D. and Ch.
p. 112, 1. 919, in the crye, an undoubted error for in the stowre. — D.
p. 113, 1. 964, was past, read was gane, or gaen (i.e. gone). — D.
p. 117, 1. 1048, read with thee.— Ch.
1. 1067, I should understand yerning as eager, &c. It is very expressive
of the noise of a dog who wants a thing very much. — Ch.
p. 119, 1. 1125, for his heire, read is neire. — Ch. I took it for is here. — F.
p. 120, 1. 1165, read come. — Ch.
p. 122, 1. 1202, busied, ? bustled, made a stir, made a " towre." — Ch.
1. 1207, ve&dfyery wood? — Ch.
p. 125, 1. 1300, read moe. — Ch.
1. 1305, feelds, certainly fells.— D.
p. 128, 1. 1403, blithe, read bliue (i. e. quickly). — D.
p. 132, 1. 1496, affrayd should be aghaste — Copland's ed. having the right reading
in 1. 1494, wonder faste, and brast being the final word of 1. 1500. — D.
p. 133, 1. 1528, Sir Marrockee the hight. If this be right, it means " they called
him Sir Marrock " : but qy. he hight (i.e. he was called)? — D. Why not, he
hight ?— Ch.
p. 136, Gvye and Amarant. This is a portion of The Famous Historie of Guy Erie
of Warwicke, &c, by S. Rowlands ; and I cannot but think that Mr. F.
mistakes the nature and intention of it. Rowlands is evidently imitating
the serio-comic romance poetry of Italy, a kind of writing which has been
popular in that country, from Pulci down to Fortiguerra.— D.
notes. Ixvii
p. 136. I do not understand note 3, " torn out &c." — Ch. Page 253 of the MS. was
torn out, Percy said, to send King Estmcre, which was on it, to press. — F.
p. 137, 1. 45, recovers — recover his, of course. — Ch.
p. 139, 1. 92, this coward art, read this coward act. — D.
p. 140, 1. 135, (probably) den[a]yd.— Ch.
p. 145, 1. 2, She. " The Duke of Buckingham's Manifestation of Remonstrance, with
a Journal of his Proceedings in the Isle of Eee, 1627, 4to." An unhappy View
of the whole Behaviour of my Lord Duke of Buckingham at the French
Island called the Isle of Rhee, discovered by Colonel William Fleetwood, an
unfortunate commander in that untoward service, 1648. This most fierce and
prejudiced impeachment of an expedition, ill planned and unhappily ter-
minated, is reprinted in the fifth volume of the Somers Collection of Tracts.
Lowndes. The Expedition to the Isle of Bhe, by Edward, Lord Herbert of
Cherbury. Edited by Lord Powis for the Philobiblon Soc. I860. — F.
p. 147, King and Miller, the first known edition was imprinted at London, by
Edward Allde [circa 1600].— Hazlitt,
p. 148, 1. 2, read the Reeve.— Ch.
p. 155, 1. 186, read a botts.— Ch.
p. 160, 1. 1, for is read It is.
1. 2, for differ en read different.
IRQ l" 72' I 60>000 is evidently the right reading, as the metre shows. — Ch.
p. 168, 1. 57, and last, read at last. — D.
p. 172. the last line of notes, Jmrms should be harms. — D.
1. 135. In Rymer, ix. 317-18, is Robert Waterton's petition to be repaid
the costs of the Duke of York, and the prisoners (1) Count de Ewe, (2)
Arthur de Bretaigne, (3) le Mareschall Buchecaud, Perron de Lupe, and
Cuchart de Sesse, these 3, at s. 23, 4d. a day, and other travelling ex-
penses. At p. 334, Rymer, ix, are " Beds, curtains, &c. for the Dukes of
Orleans and Burbon, at Eltham, the Tower of London, Westminster, Wind-
sor, and diverse other places." p. 360 is, de Domino de Lyne, prisonaris.
— F.
p. 174, Conscience. Compare The Booke in Meeter of Bobin Conscience, ? about
1550; and Allde's edition before 1600, printed in Halliwell's Contributions
to Early English Literature, 1849, and with 4 additional stanzas in Hazlitt's
Early Popular Poetry, iii. 221. Compare also A piece of Friar Bacons
Brazen-heads Prophesies, 1604, (Percy Society, 1844,) Lauder's poem on
the Nature of Scotland twiching the Inter tainment of virtewus men that
lacketh Byches, $c, and Martin Parker's Bobin Conscience, or Conscionable
Robin. His Progresse thorow Court, City, and Countrey: with his bad
entertainement at each severall place. Very pleasant and merry to bee read.
Written in English by M. P.
Charitie's cold, mens hearts are hard,
And most doores against Conscience bard.
London 163o, 8vo., 11 leaves. Bodleian. (Burton's Books) Hazlitt's Hand-
book. — F.
p. 186, 1. 49, read denide. — Ch.
e 2
lxviii notes.
p. 188, 1. 104, sore should be dropped and the line not indented : sore is evidently-
caught from the line above. — Ch.
p. 190, Harl. MS. 4843 (paper). Article 11 is "Anno Domini millesimo cccxlvi
die Martis, in vigilia Lucse Evangelistse, hora M&tictina ix. commissum
fuit bellum inter Anglos et Scotos non longe a Dunelmia, in loco ubi nunc
stat crux vulgariter dictus Nevillcrosse " Poema rhythmicura, [leaf] 241.
Harl. Catal. •
p. 191, 1. 2, hearken tome a litle [while?] — Ch.
p. 199, 1. 245, read brother, (" to the KiDg of ffrance" is a marginal gloss). — Ch.
1. 245, &c, brothers should be brother; and the words to the King of
ffrance is a gloss crept into the text. — D.
p. 200, last line but two of note, for 63-6 read 63-8. (Durham Feilde is likely
enough by the author of Flodden Field). — Ch.
p. 201, See the " Discendants from Guy, Earl of Warwick ; i.e. of the family of
Arden of Parke-Hall in Com. Warwic. who were indeed descended from the
Great Turchil, who lived at the time of the Conquest." Harl. MS. 853,
leaf 113. Mr. Halliwell in his Descriptive Notices of Early English His-
tories, p. 47-8, says of the story of Guy : " This tale was dramatized early
in the 17th century, and Taylor mentions having seen it acted at the
Maidenhead of Islington." " After supper we had a play of the life and
death of Guy in Warwicke, played by the Eight Honourable the Earle of
Darbie his men." Pennilesse Pilgrimage, ed. 1630, p. 140." Dr. Eimbault
prints the tune of the ballad at p. 46-7 of his Musical Illustrations, from
the Ballad Opera of " Robin Hood," performed at Lee and Harper's Booth
in 1730. The ballad, he says, "was entered on the Stationers' books, 5th
January, 1591-2."— F.
p. 202, 1. 37, the grave is a ridiculous blunder for the cave. — D.
1. 47, ingrauen in Mold should be ingrauen ins tone. Here the scribe
repeated by mistake the word Mold from the first line of the stanza. — D.
p. 203, last line but 4, read " Mawgertoun." — Ch.
p. 203, 1. 5 from foot. Nephew to the Laird of Mangcrtoun (misprinted Marger-
toun). This reference to the nephew of the Lord of Mangerton, the chief
of the Armstrongs, leads to the inference that the circumstances on which
the ballad is founded had occurred previous to the rescue of William Arm-
strong of Kinmont, as Sir Eichard Maitland was born in 1496, and died at
the advanced age of ninety, on the 20th of March, 1586. Jock, in 1569,
gave protection to the Countess of Northumberland, after the unfortunate
rising and defeat of her husband and the Earl of Westmoreland, when
they were both compelled to fly from England. After an unsuccessful
attempt to take refuge in Liddesdale, they were compelled to put themselves
under the protection of the Armstrongs of the Debateable land. The
Countess, who did not accompany them, her tire-woman and ten other
persons who were with her, were unscrupulously despoiled by the Liddes-
dale reivers of their horses, so that the poor lady was left on foot at John
of the Side's house, a cottage not to be compared to many a dog-kennel in
England." Maidment's Scotish Ballads, i. 182-3. Maidment also gives the
ballad of Hobbie Noble at p. 191, showing how he was betrayed into the
hands of his enemies by the Armstrongs, whose Jock he had rescued. — F.
p. 204, 1. 4, he is gone, read he is gone or gaen (i.e. gone). — D.
1. 6, (of Maitland) read anc for and. — Ch.
NOTES. lxix
p. 217, 1. 14, has received, read had received. — D.
p. 222, 1. 106, face seems to be an error for eye. — D.
1. 126, . after " yee."— Ch.
p. 226, 1. 214, for land read man ? (Percy has laird, but that reading is not likely
in this English ballad). — Ch.
p. 235, note 5, " and delend" Perhaps so ; but in old ballads and is sometimes
redundant. — D.
p. 237, 1. 232, soefast runn, read soefast rinn. — D.
p. 240, 1. 63, with speares in brest. This, of course, should be with speares in
rest.—D. (?— F.)
1. 64, . after " flight."— Ch.
p. 279, Bessie off Bednall. There are several plays on this subject. The earliest
is The Blind Beggar of Bednal- Green, with the merry humor of Tom
Strowd the Norfolk Yeoman, as it was divers times publickly acted by the
Princes Servants. Written by John Day, 1659, 4to. The latest was by my
friend Sheridan Knowles. — D.
p. 292, 1. 56, for shinne, read, as in the next stanza, shoone. — D.
p. 297, 1. 35, pinn. I prefer pin as a corruption of point, as in " He's but
one pin above a natural." Cartwright, Cf. our use of peg.
The calendar, right glad to find
His friend in merry pin.
John Gilpin. — Skeat.
p. 306, 1. 43, wadded. Surely the context, " gaule " and " greene " and " black."
shows that " wadded " should be " watchct " (i. e. pale blue). — D. (? woaded.
p. 313, 1. 13, sonne. Here, to be consistent, we must read sonne\s\. — D.
p. 315, 1. 70, " Scarlett and redd," a blunder for " scarlett redd." — D.
p. 319, 1. 200, giusts ; of course, " giusts " should be " giufts " (gifts).— D.
p. 323, 1. 30, " itt is now but a sigh clout, as you may see." The note on this line
is strangely wrong. " A sigh clout " is a clout for sighing (or, more pro-
perly, sieing), i.e. straining milk. — D. I only know siting for strain-
ing.— F.
p. 328, 1. 22, for Lay, ? read he laincs (i.e. conceals). — D.
p. 341, Sir Eglamore. " Sir Eglamore " must have been originally written in
Northern rather than in Southern English, as appears from internal evi-
dence. "We find innumerable rimes which are no rimes, but which become
so at once when translated into a Northumbrian dialect. Is it not clear
that such rimes as taketh and goeth should be tais and ga is ? That for tane
and bone we should read tane and banc ? So, too, rare (riming to were) ought
to be rair. Driueth and cliffes should be driffis and cliffis. Brew and hughe
(laughed) should be drench and leuch. Abode must be aba id, if it is to rime
with made (or maid). And finally, as a crucial instance, it is almost
impossible to believe that the four words in stanza 75 — pace, rose, was, and
taketh, were not intended to rime together in the forms pas, ras, was, and
tais or tas. To take one more case, for rest, trust, cast, and last (st. 4), read
lxx NOTES.
rest, trist, kest, lest. And when we further observe that the rimes may be
thus emended throughout the whole poe?n, surely the inference that it was of
Northern origin becomes almost a certainty. — Skeat.
p. 343, 1. 65, for "& show your hart & love," ? read " — hart and love her
to " ?— D.
In these lines, wore should be mair. — D.
p. 344, 1. 93, N
p. 345, 1. 132,
p. 352, 1. 320,
p. 355, 1.403J
p. 359, 1. 505, for home read harm. — D.
p. 367, 1. 702, head. There the rhyme determines that for "head" we must sub-
stitute the A.-S. heved. — D.
p. 369, 1. 766, for ycelde read yode (not, as Percy says, yeede). — D.
p. 369, A Cauileere. See Gervase Markham's chapter " Of Hawking with all sorts
of Hawkes," &c, in his Coimtrey Contentments, 1615, Bk. I, p. 87-97- " The
pleasure of hawking . . is a most Princely and Berious delight." — F.
p. 373, 1. 856, for rose read rase. — D.
p. 382, 1. 1119, for more read moe. — D.
p. 384, 1. 1117, for went hee read hee gone.
p. 387, note 1. As the true reading is undoubtedly " man" why say anything
about the meaning of " 3Iay"? — D.
p. 388, 1. 1285, for dwell read wend.— J).
p. 390, The Empcronr and the Childe, or Valentine & Orson. See Halliwell's
Descriptive Notices, 18-48, p. 29-30, as to the Romance, and the prose story.
p. 401, 1. 12, " that ginnyc his ffilly wold haue her owne will." Here " Grinnye"
is the name of "his ffilly." If the MS. has "grimye," it is an error. — D.
p. 419, 1. 106, for young read ying. — D.
p. 432, 1. 439, " & said, Cozen will !
who hath done to you this shame ? "
Here " will " sounds very ridiculously, as if the 3 knights were using the
familiar abbreviation of their cousin's name ! Read undoubtedly (com-
paring Ritson's text of the passage),
" & said, Cozen William,
who hath done to you this shame ? " — D.
p. 454, 1. 1078, " both old & young." -|i n t^th places "young" should be
p. 496, 1. 2223, "both old and young." J "ying."— D.
p. 493, note 1. Wivre. See a drawing of one at p. 9 of the Bestiaire d 'Amour of
Richard de Fournival, Paris, 1860 ; and Mons. Hippeau's note at p. 103-4.
— F.
p. 500. Childe Maurice. See R. Jamieson's notes to this ballad in his Pop. Bal.
and Songs, i. 16-21.— F.
NOTES. lxxi
p. 505, 1. 98, and dryed it on the grasse. Jamieson compares
Horn gan his swerd gripe
Ant on his arm hit tvype :
The Sarazyn he hit so,
That his hed fel to ys to.
Eitson's Met. Bom. vol. ii. p. 116. — F.
p. 506. 1. 117, wicked be my merry men all. Jamieson compares with this the last
3 stanzas of Little Musgrave (i. 122, note): " Woe worth you, woe worth
my merry men all," and says, " The same kind of remonstrance with those
about him occurs in Lee's tragedy of ' Alexander the Great ' after the
murder of Clitus." Most men want to put their sins on other people's
shoulders. — F.
p. 521, the extract from Lane's MS. Harl. 5243, is only his address to the reader,
before his Poem on Guy. — F.
p. 536, 1. 284, for noone read "noone time" (Compare, ante, p. 468, 1. 1441, —
" ffro : the hower of prime
till it was euensong time.")— J).
p. 536, 1. 290, for there read thore.—D.
p. 541, 1. 432. There is a church in Winchester called St. Swithin's, which is
merely a large room over the archway of King's Gate, but it has no pre-
tensions to the antiquity mentioned in your letter. The sword and axe
of the giant were probably ordered to be hung up in the cathedral church,
which was originally dedicated under the title of St. Peter and St. Paul ;
but the body of St. Swithin having been transferred from the churchyard
into the sumptuous shrine built for its reception, the cathedral from thence-
forth down to the time of Henry VIII. was distinguished by the name of
Saint Swithin, and this is no doubt the church alluded to. — Walter Bailey.
p. 579, 1. 529. John de Reeve. The mention of the galliard here, a dance not intro-
duced into England till about 1541, confirms what the language shows, that
our version of the poem is a late one. — F.
p. 582, 1. 606, On Chape, see Wedgwood's Diet. i. 321.
Bishop #erc|vg jfolto Jl*g>.
33aIIati£> ant) Romances.
-x>XKc
There are two principal versions of this well-known ballad —
an old, and a modern one. The copy preserved in the Folio is
a slightly various form of the latter.
The oldest copy of the old version is preserved in a MS. in
the Ashmolean Collection at Oxford. This was printed by
Hearne, in 1719, in the Preface to his edition of Grulielmus
Neubrigiensis. "To the MS. copy," says Percy, "is subjoined the
name of the author, Eychard Sheale [expliceth quoth Eychard
Sheale] ; whom Hearne had so little judgement as to suppose to
be the same with a R. Sheal, who was living in 1588." The
general character of the language, if there were no other proof,
proves that the ballad is of a much earlier date than 1588 ; but
probably Hearne is right in identifying the subscribed "Pi. Sheale"
with the well-known ballad-singer of that name, who flourished,
or more truly withered, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. This
Sheale was in some sort the last of the minstrels. There are
1 In the printed Collection of Old Glasgow 8 V .° 1747. — Which, is remarkable
Ballads. 1727. Vol. 1. p. 108. No. xiv. for the wilful Corruptions made in all
N.B. The Headings in the Margin y e Passages -which, concern the two
[here transferred to the foot-notes] are Nations. — P.
taken from the Scotch Edition printed at
VOL. II. B
1
2 CHEUY CHASE.
extant some lines of his, of very inferior merit, wherein he
bewails his miserable condition. He narrates with many sighs
and groans how he has been robbed, left destitute, and no man
gave unto him. Certainly, if these lines are a fair specimen of
his talents, one cannot wonder that he found the world somewhat
cold. And certainly the author of those lines could never have
written " The Hunting of the Cheviot." But he may have sung
it many and many a time, and passed with many an audience for
the author. And hence, perhaps, the subscription of his name to
the Ashmolean copy. The ballad in his time was extensively
popular. Sir Philip Sidney refers to it in a well-known
passage (though, as Prof. Child suggests, it is not impossible
that he may mean the "Battle of Otterbourne "), as commonly
sung by " blind crowders." Many years before Sidney wrote his
Defence of Poetry, the Complaint of Scotland, written in 1548,
speaks of " The Huntis of Chevot," and quotes the line,
That day, that day, that gentill day,
which is apparently a memory-quotation, or perhaps a Scotch
version of
That day, that day, that dredfull day.
This evidence of its popularity in the middle of the sixteenth
century, coupled with the antiquity of the language (though
much of that "antiquity" belongs to the dialect in which,
rather than to the time at which, it was written), justify the
assigning of the ballad to the fifteenth century.
This ballad is historically highly valuable for the picture it
gives of Border warfare in its more chivalrous days, when
ennobled by generosity and honour. The hewing and hacking
lose their horrors in the atmosphere of romance thrown around
them. And the main incidents of the piece are no doubt
generally true.
Such fierce collisions as here represented must often have
CHEUY CHASE. 3
occurred, and from the same cause here given. " It was one of
the Laws of the Marches frequently renewed between the two
nations, that neither party should hunt in the other's borders
without leave from the proprietors or their deputies." This
permission the high-spirited Borderer was not always disposed to
ask. He did not care to beg for favours. He would make no
secret of his purposed sport, so that if the warden of the March
about to be trespassed upon chose to oppose him, he was not
prevented from doing so by ignorance of his intention. In this
way the proclamation of a hunting expedition across the Borders
was in reality a challenge to a contest. An excellent illustration
of the perpetual possibility of an encounter, which attended and
recommended these defiant expeditions, is to be found in the
Memoirs of Carey, Earl of Monmouth. Carey was Warden of
the Marches in Queen Mary's time, and gives the following
account :
"There had been an ancient custom of the borders, when
they were at quiet, for the opposite border to send the warden of
the Middle Marche, to desire leave that they might come into
the borders of England, and hunt with their greyhounds for
deer, towards the end of summer, which was denied them.
Towards the end of Sir John Foster's government, they would,
without asking leave, come into England and hunt at their
pleasure, and stay their own time. I wrote to Farnehurst, the
warden over against me, that I was no way willing to hinder
them of their accustomed sports ; and that if, according to the
ancient custom, they would send to me for leave, they should
have all the contentment I could give them ; if otherwise, they
would continue their wonted course, I would do my best to
hinder them. Within a month after, they came and hunted as
they used to do, without leave, and cut down wood, and carried
it away. Towards the end of summer, they came again to their
wonted sports. I sent my two deputies with all the speed they
B 2
4 CHEUY CHASE.
could make, and they took along with them such gentlemen as
were in their way, with my forty horse, and about one o'clock
they came up to them, and set upon them. Some hurt was
done, but I gave especial order they should do as little hurt, and
shed as little blood as possible they could. They took a dozen of
the principal gentlemen that were there, and brought them to me
to Witherington, where I then lay ; I made them welcome, and
gave them the best entertainment I could ; they lay in the castle
two or three days, and so I sent them home, they assuring me
that they would never hunt again without leave. The Scots king
complained to Queen Elizabeth very grievously of this fact."
" Mr. Addison, in his celebrated criticism on that ancient
ballad of Chevy Chase, Sped. No. 20, mistakes the ground of the
quarrel. It was not any particular animosity or deadly feud
between the two principal actors, but was a contest of privilege
and jurisdiction between them, respecting their offices, as lords
wardens of the marches assigned." Extract from the Eeport of
Sir Thomas Carlton, of Carlton Hall, 1547, in Hutchinson's
History of Cumberland, pp. 28-9.
The general spirit of the ballad then is historical. But the
details are not authentic. " That which is commonly sung of the
Hunting of Cheviot," says Grodscroft, writing in his James VI.'s
time, and apparently referring to a version of the ballad then
circulating in Scotland, " seemeth indeed poetical and a mere
fiction, perhaps to stir up virtue ; yet a fiction whereof there is
no mention, either in Scottish or English Chronicle." An event
to which it might possibly refer according to Collins, in his
Peerage, was the Battle of Pepperden, fought in 1436, as Hector
Boethius informs us, " not far from the Cheviot hills, between the
Earl of Northumberland, and Earl William Douglas of Angus,
with a small army of about four thousand men each, in which
the latter had the advantage. As this seems tp have been a
private conflict between these two great chieftains of the Borders,
CHEUY CHASE. 5
rather than a national war, it has been thought to have given
rise to the celebrated old ballad of Chevy Chase ; which to render
it more pathetic and interesting, has been heightened with
tragical incidents wholly fictitious." But in any case these were
great Border names. Percy and Douglas were typical chieftains.
Moreover on the field of Otterbourne a Percy and a Douglas had
fought fiercely together, man against man, under very similar
circumstances. That field was much celebrated in Border poetry,
and elsewhere. The ballad on the Hunting of the Cheviot, —
borrowed largely from that on the Battle of Otterbourne, — was,
in fact, in course of time believed to celebrate the same event.
Observe these lines of it :
This was the Hontynge of the Cheviat ;
That tear began this spurn :
Old men that knowen the grownde well yenough ;
Call it the Battell of Otterburn.
This attempt made at the identification of two actions is
noticeable. We are afraid that the " old men " scarcely knew
the ground well enough. Otterbourne is but some 30 miles from
Newcastle. Douglas met Percy, the " Hunting " tells us, in
Teviotdale. In a word, the two ballads represent two different
features of the old Border life — the Baid and the defiant Hunt.
But they had much in common, and so were soon confused
together.
Of the battle of Otterbourne, fought in 1388, there are
historical accounts in abundance — Fordun's, Froissart's, Holin-
shed's, Godscroft's. See Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border. Of
the ballad concerning it — whose account is mainly accurate —
indeed the facts somewhat trammel the poet's wings, — there are
three versions : the English one, given by Percy in his Reliques,
from a Harl. MS. in the earlier editions, from a more perfect
Cotton MS. (Cleop. iv. f. 64) in the fourth, and two Scotch ones,
to be found, one in the Minstrelsy, the other in Herd's Scottish
b CHEUY CHASE.
Songs. The differences between the English and Scotch versions
are such as might be expected — are of a patriotic kind. The
main difference between the two Scotch versions relates to the
death of Douglas.
Of the versions of "the Hunting of the Cheviat," that preserved
in the Folio is, as we have said, the modernised one ; not that
heard by Sidney, who calls what he heard " the rude and ill-
apparelled song of a barbarous age ; " a description not applicable
to the present version. When this modernisation was made,
cannot be said exactly. " That it could not be much later than
Queen Elizabeth's time," says Percy, " appears from the phrase
' doleful dumps ; ' which in that age carried no ill sound with it,
but to the next generation became ridiculous. We have seen it
pass uncensured in a sonnet that was at that time in request, and
where it could not fail to have been taken notice of, had it been
the least exceptionable [in " a song to the lute in Musicke " from
the Paradise of Daintie Devises, 1596], yet in about half a
century after, it was become burlesque. Vide Hudibras, Pt. i.
c. iii. v. 95." Its presence in the Folio MS. shows that it was not
made later than the first half of the seventeenth century. It
soon became the current version. Addison in his critique in the
Spectator knows of no other. A comparison of it with the old
versions will show, besides one or two verbal blunders, that much
of its vigour has been lost in the process of translation.
Of all our ballads this perhaps has enjoyed the widest popu-
larity, both North and South of the Tweed. This popularity has
scarcely ever decayed. It was translated into rhyming Latin
verses by a Mr. Wold of New College, Oxford, at the instance of
Dr. Compton, Bishop of London, in 1685.
Vivat Eex noster nobilis,
Omnis in tuto sit ;
Venatus olim flebilis
Chevino luco fit.
It circulated on many a broad sheet. It was eulogised in
CIIEUY CHASE.
the Spectator in Queen Anne's reign. It was printed wherever
anything of the kind was printed in the succeeding years, when
such things were held in but slight esteem. It is as it were the
Epic of Border poetry.
(jOD Prosper long our noble Kmg,
our liffes & saftyes all !
a woefull hunting once there was
4 in Cheuy Chase befall.
to driue the deere with hound and borne
Erie Pearcy took the way :
the Child may rue that is vnborne
8 the bunting of that day !
[page 188]
A woeful
hunt was
held in
Chevy
Chase.
Earl Percy
the stout Erie of Northumberland
a vow to god did make,
bis pleasure in the Scottish woods
12 3 sommers days to take ;
vowed to
kill Scotch
deer for
three days.
the cbeefest harts in Cheuy C[h]ase
to kill & beare away,
these tydings to Erie douglas came
16 in Scottland where he Lay,
wbo sent Erie Pearcy present word
be wold prevent bis sport,
the English Erie, not fearing that, 1
20 did to the woods resort
Douglas
said he'd
stop that
sport.
But Percy
went to his
hunt
■with 1500 2 bowmen bold,
all chosen men of Might,
wbo knew ffull well in time of neede
24 to ayme their shafts arrigbt.
with 1500
bowmen,
1 this.— P.
2000.— P.
8
CHEUY CHASE.
and on
Monday
began his
hunt.
By noon 100
bucks are
slain.
After
dinner, they
hunt again,
and the hills
echo their
cries.
the Gallant Greyhound l swiftly ran
to Chase the fallow deere ;
on Munday they began to hunt
28 ere 2 daylight did appeare ;
& long before high noone the had
a 100 fatbuckes slaine.
then hauing dined, the drouyers went
32 to rouze the deare 3 againe ;
The Bowmen mustered on the hills,
well able to endure ;
theire backsids all with speciall care
36 that they 4 were guarded sure.
the hounds ran swiftly through the woods
the Mmble deere to take,
that with. 5 their cryes the hills & dales
40 an Eccho shrill did make.
Percy
wonders
whether
Douglas will
appear.
"There he is,
with 2000
men ! "
Lord Pearcy to the Querry 6 went
to veiw the tender deere ;
quoth, he, " Erie douglas promised once
44 this day to meete me heere ;
" but if I thought he wold not come,
noe longer wold I stay."
with that a braue younge gentlman
48 thus to the Erie did say,
" Loe, yonder doth Erie douglas come,
hys men in armour bright,
fall 20 hundred 7 Scottish speres
52 all Marching in our sight,
1 greyhounds. — P.
2 when. — P.
3 them up. — P.
* that day .—P.
5 And with.— P.
6 Quarry. — P.
7 15,00.— P.
CHEUY CHASE.
56
" all pleasant men of Tiuydale l
fast by the riuer Tweede."
" ceaze youv sportts ! " 2 Erie Pearcy said,
" and take jour bowes with speede,
Percy calls
on his men
" & now with me, my conntrymen,
yo«r courage forth advance !
for there was neuer Champion yett 3
60 in Scottland nor in ffrance
to be brave ;
" that euer did on horsbacke come,
& if my hap 4 it were,
I durst encounter man for man,
64 with him to breake a spere."
Erie douglas on his 5 Milke white steede,
Most Like a Baron bold,
rode formost of his company,
68 whose armour shone like gold :
he will fight
anyone,
man to man.
Douglas
[page 189]
" shew me," sayd hee, " whose men you bee
that hunt soe boldly heere,
that without my consent doe chase
72 & kill my fallow deere."
the first man that did 6 answer make
was noble Pearcy hee,
who sayd, " wee list not to declare,
76 nor shew whose men wee bee,
" yett wee will 7 spend our deerest blood
thy cheefest 8 harts to slay."
then douglas swore a solempne oathe,
80 and thus in rage did say,
asks whose
men they arc
that hunt
his deer.
Percy
will not tell,
but will
fight for the
right to
hunt.
Douglas
declares
1 men of pleasant Tiviotdale. — P.
2 Then cease sport. — P.
3 For ne'er was there a champion. — P.
4 but if my hap. — P.
5 a.— P.
6 man that first did. — P.
7 will we. — P.
8 the choicest. — P.
10
CHEUY CHASE.
that one of
them must
die,
and as it
would
be wrong to
kill their
guiltless
men,
"Ere thus I will outbraued bee,
one of vs tow shall dye !
I know thee well ! an Erie thou art,
84 Lord Pearcy ! soe am I ;
" but trust me, Pearcy e, pittye it were,
& great offence, to Kill
then any of these our guiltlesse l men,
88 for they haue done none ill 2 ;
he chal-
lenges Percy
to single
combat.
Percy
accepts.
" Let thou 3 & I the battell trye,
and set our men aside."
" accurst bee [he !] " Erie 4 Pearcye sayd,
92 "by whome it is denyed."
A squire,
Withering-
ton,
protests
then stept a gallant Squire forth, —
witherington was his name,- — -
who said, " I wold not haue it told
96 to Henery our King, for shame,
that he'll
not look on
while Percy
fights :
he'll fight
too.
The English
archers
shoot, and
kill 80 Scots.
" that ere my captaine fought on foote,
& I stand looking on ■
you bee 2 Erles," 5 qtioth. witheringhton,
100 " & I a Squier alone,
" He doe the best that doe I may, 6
while I haue power to stand !
while I haue power to weeld my 7 sword,
104 He fight with hart & hand ! "
Our English archers bend 8 their bowes —
their harts were good & trew, —
att the first flight of arrowes sent,
108 full foure score scotts 9 the slew.
1 harmless. — P.
2 no ill.— P.
s thee.— P.
4 he, Lord.— P.
5 Lords.- P.
6 that e'er I may. — P.
7 a.— P.
8 Scottish bent.— P.
9 they 4 score English.— P.
CHEUY CHASE.
11
112
to driue the deere with hound & home,
dauglas l Bade on the bent ;
2 Captaines 2 moued with Mickle might, 3
their speres to shiuers went.
they closed full fast on euerye side,
noe slacknes there was found,
but 4 many a gallant gentleman
116 Lay gasping on the ground.
The foes
close,
and many
are slain.
Christ ! it was great greeue 5 to see
how eche man chose his spere, 6
& how the blood out of their brests 7
120 did gush like water cleare ! 8
Christ! it
was sad to
see.
at last these 2 stout Erles 9 did meet
Like Captaines of great might ;
like Lyons moods 10 they Layd on Lode, 11
124 the made a cruell fight.
Percy and
Douglas
fight
the fought, vntill they both did sweat,
with swords of tempered Steele,
till blood [a-]downe their cheekes like raine
128 the trickling downe did feele. 12
till their
blood drops
like rain.
" O yeeld thee, Pearcye ! " 13 Douglas sayd,
" & 14 infaith I will thee bringe
where thou shall high advanced bee
132 by lames our Scottish K.ing ;
Douglas
calls on
Percy to
yield.
1 The Scotch Editor thinks this sh? be
Piercy. — P.
2 a cap*. — P.
3 pride. — P.
4 and.— P.
5 grief. — P.
6 And likewise for to hear. — P.
7 The Cries of Men lying in their
gore. — P.
8 And lying here & there. — P.
9 Lords.— P.
10 mov'd. — P. ? for woode, wild. — F.
or ' the mood or pluck ' of lions. — Skeat.
11 ? A.-S. leod, a man ; or for hlude,
loudly. — F. or (a)load, laid on heavily.
— Skeat.
12 Until the blood like drops of rain
They trickling down did feel. — P.
13 yield the Lord P.— P.
" d.— P.
12
CHEUY CHASE.
" thy ransome I will freely giuc,
& this i report of thee,
thou art the most couragious Knight
136 [that ever I did see. 2 ] "
Percy will
never yield
to a Scot.
"Noe, Douglas ! " quoth. Erie 3 Percy then, [pageiao
"thy profer I doe scorne ;
I will not yeelde to any scott
140 that euer yett was borne ! "
An English
arrow
kills
Douglas,
with that there came an arrow keene
out of an english bow,
who 4 scorke Erie douglas on the brest 5
144 a deepe and deadlye blow ;
exhorting
his men to
fight.
who neuer sayd 6 more words then these,
" fight on, my merry men all !
for why, my life is att [an] end,
148 LorcZ Pearcy sees my 7 fall."
Percy
laments
over his
dead foe ;
then leauing liffe, Erie Pearcy tooke
the dead man by the hand ;
who 8 said, " Erie dowglas ! for thy 9 sake
152 wold I had lost my Land !
a braver
knight ne'er
died.
" O christ ! my verry hart doth bleed
for 10 sorrow for thy sake !
for sure, a more redoubted n Knight,
156 Mischance cold 12 neuev take ! "
• ' thus.— P.
2 That ever I did see.— P.
3 Lord.— P.
4 which. — P. scorke, for storke, stroke,
struck; skorke means scorch; see
skorche in HalliwelTs Gloss. — F.
* to y heart. — P.
6 spake. — P.
7 me.— P.
8 And.- I'.
life.— P.
10 with. -P.
" renowned. — P.
12 did.— P.
CHEUY CHASE.
In
6
ICO
a Knight amongst the scotts there was,
which. x saw Erie Douglas dye,
who straight in hart did vow revenge
vpon the Lord 2 Pearcye ;
A Scotch
knight,
Sir Hugh
Montgom-
ery, vows
revenge on
Percy,
2' parte.
[Part II.]
Sir Hugh Mountgomerye was he called,
who, w/th a spere full bright,
well monnted on a gallant steed,
ran feircly through the fight,
gallops to
And 3 past the English archers all
without all dread or feare,
& through Erie Percyes Body then
168 he thrust his hatfull spere
him, and
runs him
w/th such a vehement force & might
that his body he did gore, 4
the staff ran s through the other side
a large cloth yard & more.
right
through the
body.
thus G did both those Nobles dye,
whose courage none cold staine.
an English archer then perceiued
176 the Noble Erie was Blaine,
An English
archer
he had [a] good bow 7 in his hand
made of a trusty tree ;
an arrow of a cloth yard long 8
180 to the hard head haled 9 hee,
1 that.— P.
- Earl.— P.
3 He.— P.
4 His body he did gore. — P.
6 spear went. — P.
6 So thus.— P.
7 a bow Lent. — P.
8 length. — P.
B unto the head drew. — P.
14
CHEUY CHASE.
shoots Mont-
gomery
through the
heart.
against Sir Hugh Mountgomerye '
his shaft full right 2 he sett ;
the grey goose winge that was there-on,
184 in his harts bloode 3 was wett.
The fight
lasts all day.
this fight from breake of day did last 4
till setting of the sun,
for when the rung the Euening bell
188 the Battele scarse was done.
Names of
the English
knights
slain.
with 5 stout Erie Percy there was slaine 6
Sir Iohn of Egerton, 7
Sir Robert Harcliffe & Sir William, 8
192 Sir lames that bold barron ;
& with Sir George & 9 Sir lames,
both Knights of good account ;
& good Sir Raphe Rebbye 10 there was slaine,
196 whose prowesse u did surmount.
Withering-
ton fights on
his stumps
when his
legs are cut
off.
for witherington needs must I wayle
as one in too full l2 dumpes,
for when his leggs were smitten of,
200 he fought vpon his stumpes.
Names of
the Scotch
knights
slain.
And with Erie dowglas there was slaine
Sir Hugh Mountgomerye,
13 & Sir Charles Morrell H that from feelde
204 one foote wold neuer flee ;
1 then.— P.
2 so right his shaft. — P.
3 heart-blood. — P.
4 did last from break. — P.
8 the.— P.
6 There is a dot for the i, but nothing
more in the MS.— F.
7 Ogerton. — P.
8 Eatcliffe & Sir John.— P.
9 Sir George also & good. — P.
10 Good .... Babby.— P.
11 courage. — P.
12 doleful.— P.
,3 d.— P.
14 Murray.— P.
CHEUY CHASE.
15
208
Sir Roger Heuer of Harcliife tow, — l
his sisters sonne was hee, —
Sir david Lamb well well 2 esteemed,
but saved be cold 3 not bee ;
& the hord Maxwell in like case 4
w«'th Douglas he did dye ; 5
6 of 20 7 hundred Scottish speeres,
212 scarce 55 did five ;
Of 2000
Scotch
scarce 55
were left ;
of 1500 Englishmen
went home but 53 6 ;
the rest in Cheuy chase were slaine,
216 Vnder the greenwoode tree.
of 1500
English,
only 53.
[page 191]
Next day did many widdowes come
their husbands to bewayle ;
they washt 8 their wounds in brinish teares,
220 but all wold not 9 prevayle.
Next day
the widows
come,
and weep,
theyr bodyes bathed in purple blood,
the bore with them away,
tbey kist them dead a 1000 times
224 ere the 10 were cladd in clay.
and carry
the corpses
off
to the grave.
the u newes was 12 brought to Eddenborrow
where Scottlands ~K.ing did rayne,
that braue Erie Douglas soddainlye
228 was With an arrow slaine.
1 Sir Cha. Murray of Eatcliffe too.— P.
2 Lamb so well. — P.
3 yet saved could. — P.
4 wise. — P.
5 did with Earl D 8 . die.— P.
6 — 6 Of 1500 Scottish spears
went home but 53,
Of 20,00 Englishmen
scarce 55 did flee. — P.
7 15.— P.
8 MS. they washt they.— F. d.— P.
9 could not.— P.
10 when they. — P.
" These.— P. 12 were.— P.
16
CHEUY CHASE.
King James
laments the
loss of
Douglas.
No such
captain has
he left.
King Henry
laments
Percy's loss ;
he has 500
as good still
left,
but he will
take ven-
geance
for Percy's
death.
And he did
on Humble
Downe,
killing
Lords, and
hundreds of
less account.
God grant
that strife
between
noble men
may cease !
" i heauy newes ! " Kmg lames can say,
" Scottland may wittenesse bee
I haue not any Captame more
232 of such account as hee ! ' :
like ty dings to Kmg Henery came
within as short a space,
that Pearcy of Northumberland
236 in Cheuy chase was slaine. 2
"Now god be with him ! " said our K»/,
" sith it will noe better bee, 3
I trust I haue within my realme
240 500 as good as hee !
" 4 yett shall not Scotts nor Scottland say
but I will vengeance take,
& be revenged on them all
244 for braue Erie Percyes sake."
4 this vow the King did well performe
after on humble downe ;
in one day 50 Knights were slayne,
248 with Lords of great renowne,
& 5 of the rest of small 6 account,
did many hundreds dye :
thus endeth the hunting in 7 Cheuy Chase
252 made 8 by the Erie Pearcye.
God saue our 9 King, and blesse this 10 land
with plentye, Ioy, & peace ;
& grant hencforth that foule debate
256 twixt noble men may ceaze !
ffins.
1 Now God be with him, cried our king,
Sith will no better be !
I trust I hare &c. — P.
2 Was slain in Chevy Chase. — P.
3 O heavy news, K. Henry said,
Engl? can witness be. — P.
4 These 2 stanzas omitted in y e Scotch
Edition. — P. See note, p. 1 . — F.
5 Now.— P. 6 m ean.— P.
7 of.— P. » led.— P.
9 the.— P. io the.— P.
17
WL\)t\\ %o\xt irn'tft fmumfinrtu 1
Lovelace's songs were in great request in his day. They were
set to music by popular composers of the time, — by Dr. John
Wilson, by Mr. John Laniere, by Mr. Henry Lawes whom Dante
was to give Fame leave to set higher than his Casella — and
circulated widely in Koyalist Society. Till 1649 — the author
was born in 1618 — they led a scattered and wandering life. In
that year they were gathered together and published in a volume
entitled " Lucasta, Epodes, Odes, Sonnets, Songs, &c. to which is
added Aramantha a Pastorall, by Richard Lovelace, Esq." Mean-
while there were, no doubt, in vogue many versions of the greater
favourites, more or less inaccurate. The copy of the exquisite
song beginning " When Love with unconfined wings," here
printed from the Folio MS., is one of these.
Of all the Cavalier poets Lovelace is the most charming. He
is a true cavalier ; he is a true poet. The world, that has long-
turned away its ear from Cowley and Cleveland, still listens to
his sweet voice. Are there any gems brighter than his song " to
Lucasta on going to the Wars," or that to " Althea from Prison " ?
How chivalrous the thought of them ! How tremulously delicate
the expression !
His life was full of sadness. The son of a Kentish knight,
educated at the Charterhouse and at Gloucester Hall, Oxford,
1 Written by Col. John Lovelase [t.i. Oxon. Vol. 2? Written by the Author
Eichard Lovelace]. See Wood's Athena when imprison'd. — P.
VOL. II. C
18 WHEN LOUE WITH VNCONFINED WINGS.
" the most amiable and beautiful person that eye ever beheld, a
person also of innate modesty, virtue and courtly deportment,
which made him then [at Oxford], but especially after, when he
retired to the great city, most admired and adored by the female
sex." Thus physically endowed, thus happily circumstanced, he
was yet crossed in love, and died in a state of destitution.
Lucy Sacheverell — the Lux Casta or Lucasta of his poems,
from the nunnery of whose chaste breast and quiet mind he had
fled to war and arms, that "dear" whom he loved so much
because he loved honour more — misled by a report that he had
died of wounds received at Dunkirk while commanding a regi-
ment, of his own forming, in the service of the French king,
became the wife of somebody else. The close of the civil war,
in which he had devoted both his services and his fortunes to his
king's cause, found him beggared. His loyalist zeal got him
twice into prison. " During the time of his confinement," says
Wood of the first imprisonment, " he lived beyond the income of
his estate, either to keep up the credit and reputation of the
king's cause by furnishing men with horses and arms, or by
relieving ingenious men in want, whether scholars, musicians,
soldiers, &c. ; also by furnishing his two brothers Colonel Franc.
Lovelace, and Capt. Will. Lovelace (afterwards slain at Caer-
marthen) with men and money for the king's cause, and his
other brother called Dudley Posthumus Lovelace with monys
for his maintenance in Holland to study tactics of fortification in
that school of war." " After the murther of King Charles I.,
Lovelace was set at liberty [from his second captivity], and
having by that time consumed all his estate, grew very melan-
choly (which brought him at length into a consumption), became
very poor in body and purse, was the object of charity, went in
ragged cloaths (whereas when he was in his glory he wore cloth of
gold and silver), and mostly lodged in obscure and dirty places,
more befitting the worst of beggars and poorest of servants, &c. . .
WHEN LOUE WITH VNCONFINED WINGS. 19
He died in a very mean lodging in Gunpowder alley near Shoe-
lane, and was buried at the west end of the church of St. Bride
alias Bridget in London, near to the body of his kinsman, Will.
Lovelace of Gray's Inn, Esq." — " Eichard Lovelace, Esq.," says
Aubrey, " obiit in a cellar in Long Acre, a little before the
restauration of his ma tie . Mr. Edm. Wyld, &c, had made
collections for him and given him money Geo. Petty,
haberdasher, in Fleet Street, carryed XXs to him every Munday
morning from Sir Many, and Charles Cotton, Esq., for
months, but was never repay'd." He died in 1658, and so was
saved from experiencing Stuart gratitude. These accounts of
his dismal indigence may perhaps be coloured. But there can
be no doubt he ended in extreme poverty, in a sad contrast to
the brilliancy of his early days.
The following song was written during his first captivity. He
had been chosen by his county to present a Petition to the House
of Commons " for the restoring of the king to his rights, and for
setling the government." He presented it, and by way of answer
was committed to the Grate House at Westminster. But his mind,
innocent and quiet, took his prison for a hermitage. His gaolers
heard him singing in his bonds. Love with wings that brooked
no confinement hovered near him. Brought by that chainless
spirit, the divine Althea came to visit him in his durance. She
led away the captive into a second captivity. With her fair hair
she wove fresh bonds for him ; she laid on new fetters with her
eyes. But he revelled in these chains. Having freedom in his
soul, angels alone that are above enjoyed such liberty.
wings
W HEN Love with vnconfined
hovers within my gates,
& my divine Althea brings loveviSts
to whisper at my grates,
c 2
my prison,
20
WHEN LOUE WITH VNCONFINED WINGS.
I am free
as a bird.
8
when I lye tangled in her heere
& fettered with her eye,
the burds that wanton in the ayre
enioyes l such Lybertye.
When I,
confined,
sing my
king's
goodness,
I am free i
the winds.
When, Lynett like confined, I
with shriller note shall sing
the mercy, goodnesse, maiestye
12 & glory of my kinge,
when I shall voice aloud how good
he is, how great shold bee,
the enlarged winds that curies the floods 2
16 enioyes such Lybertye.
When I
drink with
boon com-
panions
to our cause,
I am as free
as a fish.
When flowing cupps run swiftly round
with, woe-allaying theames,
our carlesse heads with roses crowned,
20 our harts with Loyall flames,
when thirsty soules in wine wee steepe,
when cupps and bowles goe free,
ffishes that typle in the deepe
24 enioyes such Lybertye.
Though in
prison,
yet with a
pure soul
and free
love,
I am free as
an angel.
Stone walls doe not a prison make,
nor Iron barrs a cage,
the spotlesse soule an[d] Inocent 3
28 Calls this an hermitage. 3
if I haue freedome in my loue,
& in my soule am free,
angells alone that sores aboue
32 enioyes such Lybertye !
ffins.
Tpage 192]
1 This final s and several others have
been marked through by a later hand.
-F.
2 flood.— P.
3 These lines differ from the usual
reading. — Skeat.
21
Clorfe* 1
Several collections of Waller's Poems appeared as early as
1645, while he was living in France. The first edition "corrected
and publish'd with the approbation of the Author " came out in
1664. "When the Author of these verses," says the Printer to
the Eeader in this one, " (written only to please himself and such
particular persons to whom they were directed), returned from
abroad some years since, He was troubled to find his name in
print, but somewhat satisfied to see his lines so ill rendered, that
he might justly disown them, and say to a mistaking Printer, as
one did to an ill Eeciter, male dum recitas, incipis esse tuum.
Having been ever since pressed to correct the many and gross
faults (such as use to be in impressions wholly neglected by the
authors) his answer was, That he made these when ill verses had
more favour and escaped better than good ones do in this age,
the severity whereof he thought not unhappily diverted by these
faults in the impression, which hitherto have hung upon his
Book, as the Turks hang old raggs (or such like ugly things)
upon their fairest Horses, and other goodly creatures, to secure
them against fascination ; and for those of a more confind
understanding (who pretend not to censure) as they admire most
what they least comprehend, so his Verses (mained to that degree
that himself scarce knew what to make of many of them), might
that way at least have a title to some Admiration, which is no
small matter, if what an old Author observes be true, that the
1 An elegant old song writton by Mr. Waller. See his Poems. — P.
22 CLORIS.
aim of Orators is Victory, of Historians Truth, and of Poets
Admiration ; He had reason, therefore, to indulge those faults
in his Book whereby It might be reconciled to some, and
commended to others." But the considerations expressed in this
longwinded and somewhat confusing manner, were overcome by
the importunity of the worthy Printer, and the Poet at last gave
leave " to assure the Eeader, that the Poems which have been so
long and so ill set forth under his name, are here to be found as
he first writ them, as also to add some others which have since
been composed by him." The following song does not occur in
this edition; nor in that of 1682, "the Fourth Edition with
several Additions never before printed." It appears in that of
1711, "the eight edition, with additions," and no doubt in
several of the preceding editions.
The song is a fair specimen of Waller's average style. It
exhibits his faults, and his merits — his affectation, and strained
gallantry, with something of his elegance and grace.
His life was not a noble one. He was not inspired by that
spirit which enabled Lovelace to sing that
Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage.
He lived from 1605 to 1687, from the year of the Gunpowder
Treason to the year before the Revolution. He sat in Parlia-
ment, for various places, from his nineteenth year to his death,
except from 1643 to the Restoration, in which period his
connection with the Royalist Plot of 1643 suspended his
public life.
cioris, i (jLORIS, farwell ! I needs must goe !
must go,
for if with thee I longer stay,
thine eyes prevayle upon me soe,
sight. 4 I shall grow blynd & lose my way. 1
1 Lines 2, 3, 4, are almost all eaten away by the ink of the title at the back. — F.
CLORIS.
23
ffame of thy bewty & thy youth,
amongst the rest me hither brought ;
but finding fame fall short of truth,
8 made me 1 stay longer then I thought.
Report
brought me
hither ;
your beauty
keeps me.
ffor I am engaged by word [and] othe
a servant to anothers will ;
but for thy loue wold forfitt both,
12 were I but sure to keepe itt still.
Though I
am be-
trothed,
I'd break
my troth if
I could
secure you ;
But what assurance can I take,
when thou, fore-knowing this abuse,
for some [more 2 ] worthy louers sake
1 6 mayst leaue me with soe lust excuse.
ffor thou wilt say it, " it was 3 not thy fault
that I to thee 4 vnconstant proue,
but were by mine 5 example taught
20 to breake thy othe to mend thy loue."
but how
could I ?
You'd jilt
me, and
plead my
example as
your excuse.
Noe, Cloris, Nbe ! I will returne,
& rayse thy story to that height
that strangers shall att distance burne,
24 & shee distrust thee 6 reprobate.
No ! I'll go,
and praise
your beauty
from afar,
Then shall my loue this Doubt displace,
& gaine the trust that I may come
& sometimes banquett on thy face,
28 but make my constant meales att home.
seeing you
sometimes
but loving
my own
love.
1 my. Qu.— P.
2 more. — P. A may that precedes for
in the MS. is crossed out. — F.
3 is.— P.
4 thou to me. Qu. — P.
5 One stroke too few in the MS.— F.
mee. Qu. — P.
»
24
€\n kinge entopesf fits rfgi)[te agate*] 1
This song occurs in the Roxburghe Collection of Ballads,
iii. 256, in the Loyal Garland containing choice Songs and
Sonnets of our late Revolution (London, 1671, Eeprinted by
the Percy Society), in a Collection of Loyal Songs, in Eitson's
Ancient Songs. Mr. Chappell, in his Popular Music of the
Olden Time, ii. 434-9, gives the air to which it was sung, along
with much information concerning it (which should be read), and
nine more stanzas than are included in our Folio. It was written
by Martin Parker, as appears from the following extract from
the Gossips' Feast or Morall Tales, 1647 : "The gossips were
well pleased with the contents of this ancient ballad, and
Gammer Growty-legs replied e By my faith, Martin Parker never
got a fairer brat ; no, not when he penn'd that sweet ballad,
When the King injoyes his own again.'' " It was an extreme
favourite with the Cavaliers.
Booker, Pond, Eivers, Swallow, Dove, Dade, and Hammond,
were eminent astrologers and almanack-makers. See Ritson,
and Chappell, ii. 437, note a .
W HAT Booker can prognosticate,
Who can consider [ilng now the kin^domes state ?
foretell .
I thinke my selfe to be as wise
4 as he that gaseth 2 on the skyes ;
my skill goes beyond the depth of Pond 3
or Riuers in the greatest raine,
Khi C g\vm wherby I can tell that all things will goe well
own y again ? 8 when the King enioyes his rights againe.
1 An old Cavilier Song.— P. 2 gazeth.— P. 3 ponds.— P.
TIIE K.INGE ENIOYES HIS RIGHTS AGAINE.
25
There is neither swallow, done nor dade,
can sore more high, or deeper wade
to shew a reason from the starres,' ,
12 what causeth these our chiill warres.
the man in the moone may weare out his shoo[ne *]
in running after Charles his wayne ;
but all is to noe end, for the times will not me[nd 2 ]
16 till the K.ing enioyes his right againe.
No stargazer
can tell
what causes
our civil
wars.
The times
won't mend
till the King
has his own.
ffull 40 yeeres his royall crowne
hath beene his fathers and his owne,
& is there any more nor 3 hee
20 that in the same shold sharrers 4 bee,
or who better may the scepter sway
then he that hath such rights to raine ?
there is noe hopes of a peace, or the war to ce[ase 5 ],
24 till the Kdng enioyes his right againe.
Who has
better right
to the crown
than our
King?
Although for a time you see Whitehall
with cobwebbs hanging on the wall
insteed of silkes & siluer braue
28 wh/ch fformerly ['t] was 6 wont [to] haue,
with a sweete perfume in euerye roome
delightfull to that princely traine :
■which, againe shalbe when the times you see
32 that the King enioyes bis right againe. 7
ffins.
[page 193]
Though
Whitehall is
all cobwebs
now,
soon it will
be silks
and per-
fumes,
when the
King enjoys
his right
again.
1 shoone. — P.
2 mend. — P.
3 than.— P.
4 sharers. — P.
5 cease. — P.
6 formerly 't was. — P.
7 This fourth stanza is put before the
third in the copy that Mr. Chappell
prints, ii. 438.
26
€\n 3(£cppttait (Butm* 1
This song under the title of Mark Anthony is found, minus
vv. 13-20 inclusive, in Poems by J. C. 1651, the first edition
of Cleveland's Poems, and in such of the many subsequent ones
as we have examined, those of 1654 (B. in the notes below), of
1677 (C. in the notes), and of 1687 (D. in the notes). Our copy
is probably a bad one of the verses before they were printed,
when lines 13-20 were cut out. The song is marked by Cleve-
land's characteristic vigour and tendency to " conceits."
John Cleveland sang and suffered much in the Eoyal cause.
Educated at Christ's College, elected a Fellow of St. John's
College, Cambridge — " To cherish such hopes," says an old
biographer of him, " the Lady Margaret drew forth both her
breasts " — he joined the King at Oxford when the breach with
the Parliament became irreparable, and gallantly adhered to the
King's fortunes to the end. After the capture of Newark, when
he was Judge Advocate, he seems to have led, for some years, a
life of wretched vagrancy. In 1655 he was taken prisoner. He
made an appeal to Cromwell, which was heard. He did not live
to see the restoration of the race which he had served with all his
trenchant wit, with the truest devotion. April 29, 1659, is the
date of his death.
As the copy in our folio MS. is corrupt in many places, we
give here the copy from the first edition of 1651, collated with
the editions of 1654, 1677, and 1687.
MAEK ANTHONY.
WHEN as the Nightingale chanted her Vespers,
And the wild Forester couch'd on the ground,
Venus invited me in th' Evening whispers,
4 Unto a fragrant field with Hoses crown 'd :
1 Not an inelegant old song. Corrected by an Edition in Cleveland's Poems.
12™ 1687. p. 65.— P.
THE ^EGIFTIAN QUENE. 27
Where she before had sent
My wishes complement,
Unto my hearts content
8 Plaid with me on the Green,
Never Mark Anthony
Dallied more wantonly
"With the fair Egyptian Queen.
12 First on her cherry cheeks I mine eyes feasted,
Then ' fear of surfeiting made me retire :
Next on her warm 2 lips, which when I tasted,
My duller spirits made 3 active as fire.
16 Then we began to dart
Each at anothers heart,
Arrows that knew no smart :
Sweet lips and smiles between,
20 Never Mark, $c.
Wanting a glass to plate her amber tresses,
Which like a bracelet rich decked mine arm,
Gawdier then Juno wears when as she graces
21 Jove with embraces more stately than warm.
Then did she peep in mine
Eyes humour Christalline ;
I in her eyes was seen,
28 As if we one had been.
Never Mark, SfC.
Mystical Grammar of amorous glances,
Feeling of pulses the Physick of Love,
32 Rhetorical courtings and Musical Dances ;
Numbring of kisses Arithmetick prove.
Eyes like Astronomy,
Streight limb'd Geometry :
3G In her heart's ingeny
Our wits are sharp and keen.
Never Mark, $c.
W HEN" as the Nightingale chanted her vesper, 4 At eve
& the wyld fayryes lay coucht 5 on the ground,
Venus invited me to an euening Wisper, 6 my Love
n -i invited me
4 to fragrant feelds ' with roses crounde to toy with
1 Thence. — B. C. D. forresters, i.e. the deer, the Inhabitants
2 warmer. — B. CD. of the forrest. — P.
3 made me. — C. D. ' in th' evening whispers. — P,
4 her vespers. — P. ' Unto a frag 1 , field. — P.
5 forrester coucht.
28
THE iEGIPTIAN QUENE.
her in the
fields.
We dallied
like Antony
and Cleo- 8
patra.
I looked at
her cheeks,
kissed her
lips,
pressed her
hand,
twined mine
in her hair,
gazed in her
eyes.
Her tresses
deckt my
12
which. l shee before had sent her cheefest complement,
Vnto my 2 harts content sport 3 with me on the
greene ;
Neuer marke Anthony dallyed more wantonly
"WVth his fayre iEgiptian queene 4 !
ffirst on her Cherry cheekes I my eyes 5 feasted ;
thence feare of surffetting made me retyre,
then to her warmed [lips], 6 which when I tasted,
my spiritts dnld were made actiue by 7 fyer.
8 this heat againe to calme, her moyst hand yeelderd
balme ;
whilest wee Ioyned 9 palme to palme as if wee one
had beene,
Neuer marke Anthony dallyed more wantonly
with his fayre Cor 10 egiptian queene !
Then in her golden heere u I my hands twined ;
shee her hands in my lockes twisted againe,
as if her heere had beene fetters assigned,
Sweet litle Cupid 12 Loose captiue 13 to chayne ;
soe did wee often dart one at anothers hart
arrows that felt 14 noe smart, sweet lookes and
smiles ' 5 between.
Neuer, &c.
24 Wa[yting a glass to platt] those amoras tresses 16
which, like a [bracelet] deckt richly mine arme,
16
20
1 Where.— P.
'puts my wishes
For her cheefest Percy
F.
And to my. query. — P.
Play'd.— P.
Only half the n in the MS.— P.
mine eyes. — P.
warmer lips. — P.
active as. — P.
N.B. from hence to [So did we
often dart] is wanting in the printed
Copy.— P.
9 A t is between Ioyned and palme in
the MS. as if wee one had beene has
been first written as a separate line, then
struck out and written after palme ; then
one had bee" was struck out, and copied
in again by Percy. — P.
10 ? MS.— F.
11 haire. — P.
12 After the d Percy puts 's. — F.
13 After the e Percy adds s. — F.
14 fett, fetch'd. — query: it is knew no
sm'. in print. — P.
15 Lipps and smiles. — P.
16 Way ting a glass to platt (plait) her
amber tresses.— P. The ink of the
heading The king enioyes on the back
has eaten the MS. away. — F.
THE jEGIPTIAN QUENE.
29
gaudyer then Iu.no was which. 1 when shee blessed 2 arm like a
, bracelet ;
lone with Euers races 3 more richly 4 thein warme.
28 shee sweetely peept in eyrie that was more cristalline,
which, by reflection shine ech eye and eye was seene. she peept
, T „ sweetly at
JNeuer, &c. me,
Misticall grammers 5 of 6 amorus glances,
32 feeHng of pulses, the phisicke of loue,
Retoricall courtings & musicall dances,
numbring of kisses arithemeticke proues 7 ;
Eyes like astronomy, strayght limbes geometry,
36 in her harts enginy 8 ther eyes & eyes were seene. 9
Neue? - , &c.
ffins.
and in her
glances
I saw kisses
alone.
1 Juno wears. — P.
2 presses (graces) Pr. Copy. — P.
3 So in the MS. — F. embraces. — P.
4 stately. P.C.— P.
5 grammars; grammar of: pr. Copy.
— P. Note the Seven Sciences — Grammar,
Physic, Ehetoric, Music, Arithmetic,
Astronomy, Geometry. — Skeat.
6 are. query. — P.
' prove, p.c. — P.
8 Arts Ingeny. — P.
9 our wits were sharp and keen.
Printed Copy. — P.
[" The Mode of France" and " Be not affrayd" printed in Lo. and
Hum. Songs, p. 45-8, follow here in the MS.']
30
^oltotue me ffanrpe*
This song, says Percy's marginal note, is " printed in a collection
of Scots Poems, Edingboro', 1713, pag. 142."
Mens prcetrepidans avet vagari. Led by Fancy, it throws off
for the nonce the fetters of the body, and " dances through the
welkin." It inspects the phenomena of cloudland, rejoices rerum
cognoscere causas. Then, turning its gaze downwards, it studies
that great ant-hill the earth. It sees mankind rushing to and
fro upon it, with all their various pursuits, humours, passions.
At last the much-travelled spirit wearies. Its wings droop, and it
implores its ever-vigorous guide to lead it no further. The great
world-prospect, with its tumult and turmoil, is too tremendous a
vision. So the spirit hies it back to its home, the body.
Melancholy,
I dance
like an elf
over moun-
tains,
plains,
and woods.
IN: a Melancliolly fancy, out of my selfe,
tliorrow the welkin dance I,
all the world snrvayinge, noe where stayinge ;
like vnto the fiery e elfe, 1
over the topps of hyest mountaines skipping,
oner the plaines, the woods, the valleys, tripping, 2
oner the seas without oare of 3 shipping,
hollow, me fancy ! wither wilt thon goe ?
1 fairy elfe. — P.
Only half the n in the MS.— F.
3 oaro or. — P.
IIOLLOWE ME FANCYE.
31
Amydst the cloudy vapors, faine wold I see I'd like to
, n . ' see what the
what are those burning tapors stars and
7-ii • ro ■ meteors are ;
wAich benight vs and affright vs,
12 & what the Meetors l bee.
ffaine wold I know what is the roaring thunder, [ pa g e 195]
& the bright Lightnine: which, cleeues the clouds in what the
o o o thunder,
Sunder, lightning,
& what the cometts are att w7«ch men gaze & wonder, and comets.
16 Hollow, me &c.
Looke but downe below me where you may be bold,
where none can see or know mee ;
all the world of gadding, running of madding,
20 none can their stations hold :
One, he sitts drooping all in a dumpish passion ;
another, he is for Mirth and recreation ;
the 3?, he hangs his head because hees out of fassion.
24 Hollow, &c.
See, See, See, what a bustling !
Now I descry one another Iustlynge !
how they are turmoyling, one another foyling,
28 & how I past them bye !
hee thats aboue, him thats below 2 despiseth ;
hee thats below, doth enuye him 2 that ryseth ;
euerye man his plot & counter 2 plott deviseth.
32 Hollow.
Shipps, Shipps, Shipps, I descry now !
crossing the maine He goe too, and try now
what they are proiecting & protecting ;
36 & when the turne againe.
One, hees to keepe his country from inuadinge ;
another, he is for Merchandise & tradince :
the other Lyes att home like summers cattle shackling/
40 Hollow.
I'd like to
look down
on the bust-
ling world,
and see one
man in the
dumps,
another all
mirth :
others jost-
ling their
fellows,
high de-
spising low,
low envying
high;
shipmen
projecting
defence
from foes
or gain in
trade.
1 meteors.— P. 2 MS. blotted.— F. 3 ? getting into a shed or the shade.— F
32
HOLLOWE ME FANCYE.
I can't go
on.
Fancy, come
back to me ;
leave off
soaring,
and keep to
your book.
Hollow, me fancy, hollow !
I pray thee come vnto mee, I can noe longer follow !
I pray thee come & try [me] ; doe not flye me !
44 Sithe itt will noe better bee,
come, come away ! Leave of thy Lofty soringe !
come stay att home, & on this booke be poring !
for he that gads abroad, he bath the lesse in storinge.
45 welcome, my fancye ! welcome home to mee !
ffins.
33
j^efoarfee* 1
This song may very well have been written, as Percy suggests,
by Cleveland to cheer the garrison of Newark ; when, during
the Eoyalist occupation of it, he was Judge Advocate. See
Introduction to " Egyptian Queen."
" In the reign of Charles I. Newark was garrisoned for the
King, and held in subjection the whole of this country, excepting
the town of Nottingham ; and a great part of Lincolnshire was
laid under contribution ; here that unfortunate sovereign estab-
lished a mint. . . . During this contest the town sustained
three sieges : in the first, all Northgate was burnt by order of the
governor, Sir John Henderson ; in the second, when under the
government of Sir John, afterwards Lord, Byron, the town was
relieved by the arrival from Chester of Prince Eupert, who,
according to Clarendon, in an action between his forces and the
parliamentarians under Sir John Mel drum, on Beacon Hill,
half a mile eastward of the town, took four thousand prisoners
and thirteen pieces of artillery; in the third siege, after the
display of much prowess and several vigorous sallies, the fortress
remained unimpaired ; afterwards Lord Bellasis, then governor,
surrendered the town to the Scottish army, by the King's order,
on the 8th of May, 1646. At the close of this siege, the works
and circumvallations were demolished by the country people,
with the exception of two considerable earth-works, which are
now nearly perfect, and are called the King's Sconce and the
Queen's Sconce ; about this time the castle also was destroyed."
(Lewis' Topogr. Diet, of England.)
1 Very probably writ by Jack Cleve- Trent ; to Chear the Garrison : where he
land during the siege of Newark upon was judge advocate. — P.
VOL. II. D
34
NEWAKKE.
Fill us a
cup!
Here's a
health to
King
Charles.
We dread
not our foes.
UUR : braines are asleepe, then fyll vs l a cupp
of cappering sacke & clarett ;
here is a health to Kmj/ Charles ! then drinke it all vp,
his cause will fare better for itt.
did not an ould arke saue noye 2 in a fflood ?
why may not a new arke to vs be vs 3 good ?
wee dread not their forces, they are all made of wood,
then wheele & turne about againe.
If Leslie gets
hold of 'em
he'll play
the devil
and all.
Though all beyond trent be sold to the Scott,
to men of a new protestation
if San dye come there, twill fall to their Lott
12 to haue a new signed possession ;
but if once Lesly gett [them] in his power,
gods Leard ! heele play the devill & all !
but let him take heed how hee comes there,
16 lest Sweetelipps ring him a peale in his eare.
Drink to our
garrison.
I fear no foe,
for our
Maurice is
coming.
Then tosse itt vp merrilye, fill to the brim !
wee haue a new health to remember ;
heeres a health to our garrisons ! drinke it to them,
20 theyle keepe vs all warme in December.
I care not a figg what enemy comes ;
for wee doe account them but hop-of-my-thumbes
for Morrise 4 our prince is coming amaine
24 to rowte & make them run againe.
ffins.
1 MS. vis or vus. — F.
2 Old Ark— Noe.— P.
3 as.— F.
4 Maurice.— P.
35
gmongsst tt)t mtrtlesu 1
The first collection of Carew's poems was made in 1640, the
year after his death. But many of them had been set to music
during his life ; others no doubt had circulated in MS.
" He was a person," says Clarendon, " of a pleasant and
facetious wit, and made many poems (especially in the amorous
way), which for the sharpness of the fancy and the elegance of
the language in which that fancy was spread, were at least equal,
if not superior to any of that time : but his glory was that after
fifty years of his life spent with less severity or exactness than it
ought to have been, he died with great remorse for that license,
and with the greatest manifestation of Christianity, that his best
friends could desire."
AMongst the Mirtles as I walket,
loue & my thoughts sights this 2 inter-talket :
" tell me," said I in deepe distresse, Where can I
_ __ find my
4 " Where may I mid [_my sneperdesse. d J shepherdess?
" Thou foole ! " said lone, " knowes thou not this ? [page 196]
in euerye thing thats good shee is. She's in ail
that's good,
in yonder tuiepe goe & seeke, her hue in
8 there thou may find her lipp, her cheeke ;
the tulip,
" In yonder enameled Pancye, her eye in
there thou shalt haue her curyous eye ;
in bloome of peach & rosee 4 budd,
12 there wane the streamers of her blood ;
1 A very elegant old song. Writ by omission by Percy. — F.
Mr. Thomas Carew. See his poems, b°. 3 The MS. is cut away. — F.
L. 1640. — P. 4 rosee. — P.
2 thus. — P. ; and sights marked for
1)2
36
AMONGST THE MI11TLES.
her hand in
the lily,
the scent of
her bosom
on the hills.
"In 1 brightest Lyllyes that lieere stand,
the 2 emhlemes of her whiter hands ;
in yonder rising hill, their smells 3
16 such sweet as in her bosome dwells."
I went to
pluck these
flowers,
but all
vanished.
So shall pass
my joy !
" It is trew," said I ; & therevpon
I went to plucke them one by one
to make of parts a vnyon ;
20 butt on a sudden all was gone.
Wy'th that I stopt, sayd, " loue, 4 these bee,
fond man, resemblance-is of thee 5 ;
& as these flowers, thy Ioyes shall dye
24 Euen in the twinkhng of an eye,
" And all thy hopes of her shall wither
Like these short sweetes soe knitt together."
ffi[ns.]
1 The.— P.
2 are. — P.
3 there smells. — P.
4 stop'd. S<? Love &c— P.
5 resemblances of thee. — P.
37
€\)t tom-foe fe r&angefc* 1
Songs of a very similar kind are common enough in the collec-
tions of Koyalist poems : as, for instance, " The Humble Petition
of the House of Commons " in A Collection of Loyal Songs
written against the Rump Parliament between the years 1639
and 1661, 1731.
If Charles tkcm wilt but be so kind
To give us leave to take our mind,
Of all thy store ;
When we thy Loyal Subjects, find
Th'ast nothing left to give behind
We'll ask no more.
and " Pym's Anarchy " in the same collection :
Ask me no more, why there appears
Daily such troops of Dragooners ?
Since it is requisite, you know,
They rob cum privilegio.
Ask me no more, why from Blackwall
Great Tumults come into Whitehall ?
Since it's allow'd, by free consent,
The Privilege of Parliament.
Ask me no more, for I grow dull,
Why Hotham kept the Town of Hull ?
This answer I in brief do sing,
All things were thus when Pym was King.
1HE : world is changed, & wee haue choyces, Not Reason,
but most
not by most reason, but most voyces ; voices rule.
the Lyon is trampled by the Mouse,
4 the lower is the vpper house, The lower
&j_i n ion house is the
thus from, laus 2 orders come, upper.
but now their orders laus 2 frome.
1 A good old Cavilier song. — P. 2 qu. Caus. — F.
38
THE WORLDE IS CHANGED.
They want
to enslave
their king,
and put him
under Pym.
12
In all hurnilitye they craue
theire soueraigne to be their slaue,
beseeching him that hee wold bee
betrayd to them most Loyallye ;
for it were Meeknesse soe in him
to be a vice-Roy vntoy Pyim. 1
Charles
would rather
not.
16
If that hee wold but once Lay downe
his scepter, maiestye, & crowne,
hee shalbe made in time to come
the greatest prince in christendome.
Charles, att this time hauing noe neede,
thankes them as much as if they did.
No petitions
are to be
presented
but their
own.
Petitions none must be presented
2() but what are by themselves inuented,
that once a month the thinke it flitting
to fast from soine 2 because from sittinge
Such blessings to the Land are sent
24 by priuiledge of Parlaiment.
ffins.
1 unto Pym.— P. 2 ? MS. sone, with a dot over the first stroke of the n.—F.
39
Ci)£ tribe off Banburpe/
This song, not before printed so far as we know, gives an
insolent Cavalier account, put in the mouth of a Puritan, of the
occupation of Banbury by a Royalist force. Banbury was visited
more than once by such a force during the Civil War of 1642-6.
The visit here referred to was paid in the very beginning of the
disturbances, some seventeen days before the Royal Standard was
set up at Nottingham. When the King and the Parliament
each insisted on having the management of the militia, the
former appointed the Earl of Northampton to " array " it in
Warwickshire, the latter Lord Brook. In July the Parliament
granted its deputy six pieces of ordnance to strengthen his castle,
at Warwick. These were conveyed as far as Banbury by the
29th. The attempt to convey them on to Warwick was barred
by Lord Northampton. The two lords at last agreed that they
should be carried back to Banbury, and that neither party should
remove them without giving the other three days' notice. On
the 6th and 7th of August great alarm began to prevail in the
town, that the enemy was meditating an assault, and a seizure of
the said ordnance. On Sunday night, the 7 th, the enemy was
discovered by a scout, coming down Hardwick lane in great force.
But "the night growing extreme dark, they forbare all that
night." Then next morning a parley was held, when the
Cavaliers by turns cajoled and threatened the fearful citizens.
At last : —
The town being in a sad case, not knowing how they would deal
with them, exposed themselves and town on Munday morning [the
8th], and in a while after they came in with about 5 or 600 horses,
1 An old Cavilier Song on the Taldwg of Banbury by Colonel Lumford. — P.
40 THE TRIBE OF BANBURTE.
but 300 good ones, and the rest sorry jades, anything [they] could
get from the poor countrey men, some at work ; and as beggarly
riders set on them, though for the present they flourished with money,
yet their cloths bewrayed them to be neither gentlemen nor Cavaliers.
And having fil'd the town with horses the chief of them came to
the Red Lion Inne, and desired to speak with Colonell Femes and
Captaine Vivers, who were in the Castle, to whom reply was made,
they should, if they would send two as considerable men in lieu,
which they did ; then they produced the Commission of Array, and
required them to deliver the Ordnance, otherwise they would take
them by force, and fire the town. And having obtained that they
came for, the ordnance and ammunition thereunto belonging, they
clear'd the town againe, and were all departed before night, who
carried them to the E. of Nortkamptons house [Compton Wyngate],
and it was thought they intended to goe to Warwicke castle the next
day, but the Lord Brooke had noe notice from the Earle of three
dayes warning, as was agreed between them ; There was also Colonell
Lunsford, and divers Lords too long to name ; There was the Lord
Wilmot, who kept backe the town of Atherbury from coming in to
aide Banbury, and threatned he would hang up the men and send the
souldiers to their wives and children ; There was also the Lord
Dunsmore. — "Proceedings at Banbvry since the Ordnance went down
for the Lord Brooke to fortifie Warwick Castle," 4to, 1642. Anions'
the King's Pamphlets in the Brit. Mus. apud Beesleifs " History
of Banbury " p. 302.
On July 7 UN : the 7th day on the 7 month,
most Lamentablye
the Cavi- ^he men °f Babylon did spoyle
B e anbury k 4 ihe tribe of Banburye.
A brother post from cou entry
Veharl news ->• • -it -i , , i
ofLunsford's r yding m a blew rockett, 1
sayes, " Colbronde Lunsford comes, I saw,
8 with, a childs arme hang in his pockett."
1 A.-S. roc, clothing, an outer garment, Fulle wel [y-] clothed was Fraunchise,
a coat, jacket, vest : Bosworth, Germ. For ther is no cloth sittith bet
rock, a coat. Chaucer describes dame On damyselle, than doth rocket.
Fraunchise in a rocket, see Fairholt's A womman wel more fetys is
Glossary
THE TRIBE OF BANBURYE.
41
12
Then wee called up our men of warr,
younge Viuers, Cooke & Denys, 1
whome our Lord Sea 2 placed vnder
his Sonne Master ffyenys. 3
and called
out our men
of war,
When hee came neere, he sent vs word
that hee was coming downe,
& wold, vnles wee lett him in,
16 Granado 4 all our towne.
butLunsford
said he'd
grenado our
town,
Then was our Colhr oncle — fines, 5 — & me,
in a most woefull case ;
for neither he nor I did know
20 who this granado was.
24
wee had 8 gunnes called ordinance, 6
& foure score Musquetiers, 7
yett all this wold not serue to stop
those Philistime cauileeres.
and our guns
and men
[page 197] couldn't stop
him.
Good people, the did send in men
from Dorchester & Wickam ;
but wher this Gyant did them see,
28 good hord, how he did kick han 8 !
In rokct than in cote, ywis.
The whyte roket rydled faire, &c.
Romaunt of the Rose, 1. 1238-43, Poet.
Works, ed. Morris, vi. 38.
" Rocket, a surplys : " Palsgrave.
"Skeltcn describes Elinor Eumming
the Alewife in a gray russet rocket.
Rocket, a cloak without a cope: Ranclle
Holme ; " in Pairholt.
Rocket, a frocke ; loose gaberdine, or
gowne of canuas or course linnen, worne
by a labourer over the rest of his clothes ;
also, a Prelates Rocket : Cotgrave. See
the woodcut in Fairholt, p. 220. — F.
1 There is a dot over tho stroke follow-
ing the e in the MS.— F.
2 Say.— P.
3 Fiennes. — P.
4 Fr. Grenade. A Pomegranet ; also,
a ball of wild-fire, made like a Pome-
granet: Cotgrave. An iron case filled
with powder and bits of iron, like the
seeds in a pomegranate: Wedgwood.
— F.
5 Fiennes. — P.
6 Ordinance, all sorts of Artillery, or
great Guns us'd in War. Phillips. — F.
7 Musquetiers. — P. The last e is niado
over a y in the MS. — F.
8 kick 'cm. — P.
42
THE TRIBE OF BANBURYE.
He swore
and threat-
ened us so
32
" You round heads, rebells, rougs, 1 " quoth, hee,
" He crop & slitt eche eare,
& leaue you neither arme nor lege
much longer then jour heere 2 !
that we
opened our
gates,
Then wee sett ope our gates 3 full wyde ;
they swarmed in like bees,
& they were all arraydd in buffe
36 thicker then our towne cheese. 4
and his
blood-
thirsty men
Now god deliuer vs, we pray,
from such blood-thirstye men,
forom 5 Leuyathan Lunsford
40 who eateth our children !
hung us and
plundered
44
ffor Banburye, the tinkers crye,
you hanged vs vp by twelues ;
now since Lunsford hath plundred you,
you may goe hang yo^r selues.
ffins.
1 rogiies. — if.
2 haire. N.B. The Roundheads were
so called from wearing their hair cropt
short. — P.
3 gater in the MS.— F.
4 Banbury Cheese. — P.
this.— P.
[ u Doe you meane to overtlirowe me," and "A Maid 8f a Young e Man,"
printed in Lo. and Hum. Songs, p. 49-52, follow here in
the MS.]
43
$p : me : %y me :
The Editors have not found any printed copy of this song.
Mr. Chappell informs them that there is a tune in the Dancing
Master of 1657 entitled "Ay me, or the Symphony," but it
requires words of a different metre to that of this song.
" A fling at the Scots, probably writ in James I. time " is
Percy's MS. note ; or, as Mr. Halliwell says of Joky ivill prove
a gentillman, 1 a " satire . . doubtlessly levelled against the
numerous train of Scotch adventurers who wisely emigrated to
England in the time of James I., in the full expectation of
being distinguished by the particular favour and patronage of
their native sovereign." Poor Sisly, the chief speaker in the
piece, laments the dropping off of her suitors. She once had
twelve, and now she has but one. The first was handsome ; the
ten following were all well-to-do in the world in one way or
another ; the one that yet remains has no merit of either sort.
The others were Welsh, Dutch, French, or Spanish ; this one is
a sorry Scotchman. A doleful state of things ; but the best must
be made of it. At any rate, as this last lingering wooer is a
beggar, he can never be declared bankrupt. But indeed begging-
is the way to wealth now-a-days — begging for appointments, &c.
In Joky ivill prove such begging is introduced as the cause of
the marvellous change of the hero's cowhide shoes into Spanish-
leather ones decked with roses, of his twelvepenny stockings
into " silken blewe," of his list garters into silk tasselled with
gold and silver, &c.
1 Reprinted from The Archaologist in Satirical Songs (Percy Society), p. 127.
44
AY ME: AY ME.
Thy hose and thy dublett, which were full plaine,
Whereof great store of lice [did] containe,
Is turned nowe. Well fare thy braine
That can by bcgginge this maintayne!
By my fay, and by Saint Ann,
Joky will prove a gentilman !
Moved by this disinterested consideration — that begging is the
winning game — Sisly resolves to give the constant Scot the right
to beg for her as well as himself.
Oh clear I
I had twelve
suitors,
and all are
gone but
one,
the worst of
all,
a regular
weed.
The rest
were good,
this one's
naught,
12
16
20
" AY : me, ay me, pore sisley, & vndone ' !
I had 12 sutors, now I have but one !
they all were wealthy ; had I beene but wise ;
now haue all left me since I haue beene soe nice, 2
but only one, and him all Maidens scorne,
for hees the worst I thinke that ere was borne."
" peace good sisley ! peace & say noe more !
bad mends in time ; good salue heales many a sore."
" ffaith such a one as I cold none but loue, 3
for 4 few or none of them doe constant proue ;
a man in shape, proportion, looke, and showe,
much like a Mushroome in one night doth grow ;
proud as a lay t hats of a comely hew,
cladd like a Musele in a capp of blew. 5 "
" peace, good sisley ! peace, & say noe more !
be Merry, wench, & lett the welkin rore ! "
" The first I had was framed in bewtyes mold,
the second : 3 d . and 4* had store of gold,
the 5. 6. 7. 8"? had trades eche one,
the best had goods & lands to hue vpon ;
Now may I weepe, sigh, sobb, & ring my hands,
since this hath neither witt, trade, v goods, nor Land[s.] "
1 I'm vndone. — P.
2 Particular ; not Fr. niais, a simple,
witlesse, vnexperienced gull. Nice, dull,
simple : Cotgrave. — F.
3 As none but I could love. — P.
4 But.— P.
5 The Scotch cap. See Slew-cap for
me in Sat. Songs, p. 130, &c. — F.
AY ME : AY ME.
45
24
" peace, good sisley ; peace & take that one
that stayes behind when all the rest are gone !
" He [is,] as ' turkes doe say, noe renegatoe, 2
noe Portugall, Gallowne, or reform ato 3 ;
but in playne termes some say he is a scott,
28 that by his witts some old cast suite hath gott,
& now is as 4 briske 5 as my 6 Bristow Taylor,
& swaggers like a pander or a saylor. 7 "
" kisse him, sisley, kisse him, he may prone the best,
32 & vse him kindly, but witt bee all the rest."
a Scot,
in a cast-off
suite.
" One was a welchman, her wold 8 scorne to crye ;
& 3 were Dutchmen that sill 9 drunke wold bee ;
& 6 were frenchemen that were pockye proude ;
36 & one a spanyard that cold bragg alowd.
Now all are gone, & way 10 not me a figge,
but one poore Scott who can doe nought but begg."
" take him, sisley ! take him, for itt is noe doubt,
40 his trades that beggs, heele neuer proofe 1 1 banquerout.' '
My other
suitors were
Welch,
Dutch, &c.
This one is a
poor begging
Scot.
" Nay, sure, He haue him, for all people say
that men by begging grow rich now a day,
& that oftentimes is gotten with a word
44 att great mens hands that neuer was woone by sword,
then welcome Scotchman, wee will weded bee,
& one day thou shalt begg for thee and mee."
" well sayd, sisley ! well said ! on another day,
48 by begging thou maist weare a garland gay ! "
But I'll take
him ;
begging's a
good trade
now ;
and he'll beg
for us both.
1 He is, as, &e. — P.
2 renegado. — P.
3 reformado. — P. Sp. reformddo, re-
formed. Minsheu. Reformado, orReformed
Officer, an Officer whose Company or
Troop is disbanded, and yet be continu'd
in whole or half Pay ; still being in the
way of Preferment, and keeping his
Eight of Seniority : Also a Gentleman
who serves as a Volunteer in a Man of
War, in Order to learn Experience, and
succeed the Principal Officers. Phillips.
— F.
4 It may be al in the MS.— F.
5 And now's as brisk. — P.
6 any. — P.
7 ? MS. Jaylor.— F.
8 hur wold, &c. — P.
9 still.— P.
10 weigh. — P.
11 The Man that begs will ne'er prove.
46
flame : inoltre : $ rfiancje:
[page 190]
This is the song of one who entertains a supreme horror of
living and dying an old maid. She has been told by old wives,
no doubt well informed on the subject, that those who do so are
employed subsequently in " leading apes in hell ; " ' after which
singular occupation she feels no great hankering. "To the
church," then, is the word. Ding-dong away, Marriage bells.
I want to
change my
maiden life,
r AINE wold I change my maiden liffe
to tast of loues true loyes."
" What ? liffe ! woldest 2 thou chuse to bee a wiffe ?
maids wishes are but toyes."
" how can there bee a greater hell then Hue a maid
soe long, 3
a mayd soe long ?
to the church ring out the Marriage bells,
ding dong, ding dong, ding dong !"
for I'm
nearly six-
teen,
12
" Beffore thai 15 yeeres were spent,
I knew, & haue a Sonne."
" how old art thou ? " " sixteene next Lent."
" alas, wee are both vndoue ! "
how can there bee &c.
1 Mr. Dyce says : " The only instances
of the expression leading apes in (or into)
hell, which at present occur to me, are
these : —
" ' — and he that is less than a man,
I am not for him : therefore I will even
take sixpence in earnest of the bear-
ward, and lead his apes into hell.' —
Shakespeare's Much ado about Nothing,
act ii. sc. 1.
" ' — but keeping my maidenhead till
it was stale, I am condemned to lead apes
in hell! — Shirley's Love-Tricks, act iii.
sc. 6 ; Works, vol. i. p. 53, ed. G-ifford
and Dyce.
" This phrase, which is still in common
use, never has been (and never will be)
satisfactorily explained. Steevens sug-
gests, ' That women who refused to bear
children, should, after death, be con-
demned to the care of apes in leading-
strings, might have been considered as
an act of posthumous retribution.' " — F.
2 why would'st. — P.
3 ? MS.— F. so long.— P.
FAINE WOLDE I CHANGE. 47
"Besides, I heard an old wiffe tell
that all true maids must dye." and true
16 " what must they doe ? " "lead apes in hell ! andieadapes
a dolefull destiny e."
in hell.
" & wee will lead noe apes in hell ; ! ^on'tdo
r ' that,
1 weele change our maiden song, our maiden song ;
20 to the church ring out the Marriage bells, t^chlirch*
wee haue liued true mayds to 2 longe."
ffins.
1 "Weele change" is in the 18th line in the MS.— F. 2 too.— P.
48
This song occurs, as Mr. Chappell remarks, in the Golden
Garland of Princely Delight, 3rd edition, 1620. Mr. Chappell
adds a fourth stanza from later copies, " such as Wits Interpreter,
third edition, 8vo. 1671 :"
If I have wronged you, tell me wherein,
And I will soon amend it ;
In recompense of such a sin,
Here is my heart, I'll send it.
If that will not your mercy move,
Then for my life I care not ;
Then, then, torment me still,
And take my life and spare not.
He gives the tune to which the song was sung, composed by
Thomas Ford (one of the musicians in the suite of Prince Henry,
the eldest son of James I.), who published it in his Musick of
Sundrie Kindes, in 1607.
at erst sight, " HEN" ffirst I saw her face, I resolued '
to honor & renowne thee ;
but if I be disdayned, I wishe
4 that I had neuer knowne thee.
me love ; ade I asked leaue ; you bade me lone ;
is itt now time to chyde mee ?
: no : no : no ! I loue you still, what fortune euer
betyde mee !
8 If I admire or praise you too much,
tltat fortune [you] might 2 forgiue mee ;
or that my hand hath straid but to touch, 3
thenn might you iustly leaue mee,
1 thee I resolv'd.— P. 2 that fault you might.— P. 3 MS. teach.— F. to touch.— P.
WHKN K I K.ST I SAWE.
49
12 but I that liked, & you that loued,
is now a time to wrangle ?
O no : no : no, my hart is ffixt, & will not new w m y
entangle.
The sun, whose beames most glorious are,
16 rejecteth x noe beholder ;
yottr faire face, past all compare,
makes my faint hart the bolder,
when bewtye likes, & witt delights,
20 & showes of Loue doe bind mee ;
there, there ! there ! whersoeuer I goe,
He leaue my hart behind mee !
1 MS. & reacheth.— F.
ffins.
ou
now quarrel
with me ?
Your beauty
has stolen
my heart.
[" A Creature for Feature,'''' and "Lye alone," printed in
Lo. and Hum. Songs, p. 53-56, follow here in the MS.~\
VOL. II.
50
$?oto fapre stint lie* 1
This well-known song by George Wither (1590-1667) appeared
in 1619, appended to his Fidelia, and again in Juvenilia, in 1633,
in " Fair Virtue the Mistress of Philarete." It was reprinted
again and again, sometimes with another stanza. The version
here given is slightly corrupt. " A copy of this song," says Mr.
Chappell, "is in the Pepys collection, i. 230, entitled A new song
of a young man's opinion of the difference between good and
bad women. To a pleasant new tune. It is also in the second
part of the Golden Garland of Princely Delights, third edition
1620, entitled The Shepherd's Resolution. To the tune of The
Young Man's Opinion."
care for me ?
Not I
shall i kill DHALL : I, wasting in dispayre,
dye because a woman s fayre ?
or make pale my cheekes with care 2
lo^dKt 4 because anotkers rose-yee 3 are ?
Be skee fairer then the day
or the flowry Meads in may,
if skee tkinke not well of mee,
8 Wkat care I kow fayre skee bee ?
Skall my foolisk kart be pind
because I see a woman kind,
or a well disposed nature
12 with 4 a comlye feature ?
1 An elegant old Song by Withers. omission of St, 2<J — P.
This song is in /he Tea Table Miscellany 2 shall my Cheeks look pale with care
of Allan Ramsay, 1753, j>flr/c 304. But (printed Copy). — P.
the Printed Copy wants the 2'. 1 stanza: — • s rosie are. P.
it containing only three. It is also in * matched or joined.— P.
Dryden's Misc. V. 6. p. 335, with the
HOW FAYRE SHEE BE.
Be shee Meeker, kinder, then
the turtledoue or Pelican,
if shee be not soe to me,
16 what care I how kind shee bee ?
51
If she's not
kind to me,
let her go.
Shall a womans vertnes 1 moue
me to perish for her lone,
or her worthy merritts knowne
20 make me quite forgett mine owne ?
were shee with that goodness blest,
as may meritt name of best,
if shee be not soe to me,
24 what care I how good shee bee ?
Shall I
perish for
her love ?
Not I.
2 Be shee good or kind or fayre,
I will neuer more disp[air ;]
if shee loue me, this beleeue,
28 I will dye ere shee shall g[reiue ;]
if shee slight me when I woe,
I will scorne & lett her goe.
or if shee be not 3 for mee,
32 what care I 4 for whom shee bee ?
If she slight
me,
let her go.
What care I?
1 goodness (printed Copy). — P.
2 The following four lines are written
in two in the MS.— F.
3 Percy inserts J?*!. — F.
4 A wliom struck out follows / in the
MS.— F.
[" Downe sate the Shepard" and " Men that more," printed in
Lo. and Hum. Songs, p. 57-60, follow here in the 3//S'.]
e 2
52
Come : €onu : Come t 1 cw^]
This is, says Percy in his marginal note in the Folio, " A curious
old drinking song, supposed to be sung by an old gouty Baccha-
nal." Not content with fellow mortal topers, the old roisterer
calls on all the Gods to join him in his carouse. Not his the
Lotus-eater's conception of the Deities. He does not think
that " careless of mankind they lie beside their nectar . . where
they smile in secret, looking over wasted lands," smile at the
music centred in the doleful song of lamentation, the ancient
tale of wrong, from the " ill-used race of men that cleave the soil."
He sees them madding their brains for "a little care of the
world's affair," " utterly consumed with sharp distress " at the
world's misery ; and he calls on them to be such fools no longer —
to " let mortals do as well as they may " — while they, the (rods,
take up their wine and drink with him. Mars, Momus, Mercury,
Apollo, Vulcan, the great Jove himself, dread Juno, and Venus,
Goddess of Love— none are excused — all must join ; the grape
is sweet, and wine for them as well as men : let all quaff, and
sing fa la la ! — F.
Let's be joiiy! vOME: Come, come ! shall wee Masque or mum?
by ray holly day, 2 what a coyle is heere !
some must 3 sway, & some ohay I,
4 or else, I pray, who stands in feare ?
Though though 4 my toe, thai I limpe on soe, 5
we have
the gout, doe cause my woe & wellaway,
wine'n make yett .this sweet spring & another thing
8 will make you sing fa.la.la.la.la.
1 A curious old drinking song, sup- 3 mist in the MS. — F.
posed to be sung by an old gouty Bac- '' what tho'. — P.
chanal.— P. s sc. with the Gout. — P.
2 Dame.— P.
COME : COME : COME.
53
ffellow gods, will you fall att odds ?
what a fury madds jour morttall l braines !
for a litle care of the worlds affare,
12 will you frett, will you square, 2 will you vexe, will
you vai[r ?] 3
No, gods ! no ! let fury go, 4
& Morttalls doe as well as they may !
for this sweet &c.
Don't bother
about
business.
16 God of Moes, 5 with thy toting Nose,
with thy mouth that growes to thy Lolling eare,
stretch thy mouth from North to south,
& quench thy drought 6 in vinigar !
20 though thy toung be too Large & too Longe
to sing this song of fa la la la la,
Ioyne Momus grace to vulcans pace,
& with, a filthy face crye " waw waw waw ! "
Momus,
drink
vinegar !
Sing with us
somehow !
24 Brother Mine, thou 7 art god of wine !
will you tast of the wine 8 to the companye ?
'King of quafie, carrouse & doffe
jour Liquor of, and follow mee !
28 9 Sweete soyle of Esus He,
wherin this coyse 10 was euery day,
for this sweet &c.
Bacchus,
join me in a
bowl !
Mercurye, thou Olimpian spye !
32 wilt thou wash thine eye in this fontaine cleere ?
when * l you goe to the world below,
you shall light of noe such Liquor there,
Mercury,
drink !
1 immortal, qu. — P.
2 i. e. quarrel. — P.
3 will you vex your vaines. — P. Vair
for veer, turn. It should rhyme with
square. — Chappell.
4 ? MS. gott, with 1 1 blotched out.— F.
5 Mows, i.e. Mockery. Sc. Momus. — P.
6 drowth. — P.
7 that.— P.
8 vine. — P.
9 To the.— P.
10 ? MS. coyle.— F. ? coyse, body —
Halliwell.
11 whene'er. — P.
54
COME : COME : COME.
Wine'll wing
your heart.
Mars,
stop strife,
and drink.
though l you were a winged stare
36 & flyeth 2 farr as shineth day ;
yett heeres a thing jouv hart will wing,
& make you sing &c.
You that are the god of warr,
40 a cruell starr peraerse & froward,
Mars ! prepare thy warlicke speare,
& targett ! heers a combatt towards !
3 then fox 4 me, & lie fox thee ;
44 then lets agree, & end this fray,
since this sweet &c.
Venus,
you drink
tool
Venus queene, for bewtye seene,
in youth soe greene, & loued soe young,
48 thou that art mine owne sweet hart,
shalt haue a part in Cuppe [&] songe 5 ;
though my foot be wrong, my swords full long
& hart full strong; cast care away,
52 Since this sweet &c.
Apollo,
here's wine
for you 1
It will refine
your music.
Great Appollo, crowned with yellow, 6
Cynthius, fellow 7 -muses deere !
heere is wine, itt must be thine,
56 itt will refine thy Musicke cleere ;
to the wire of this sweet lire
you must aspire another day,
for this sweet &c.
Juno, 60 Iuno clere, & mother dere,
you come in the rere of a bowsing feast ;
1 Altho', or even tho', or perhaps
What tho' you are a winged star
And fly as far. — P.
2 and flew as, as, That flyeth. — P.
3 Do thou fox me. — P.
4 a toping Word. — P. Fox, to make
tipsy. A cant term. See Hobson's Jests,
1607, repr. p. 33. Halliwell. — F.
5 Cup & song. — P.
6 Cloath'd in yellow.— P.
7 Cease to follow, or Quit thy fellow,
or With thy fellow. — P. Apollo was
surnamed Cynthius, and Diana Cynthia,
as they were born on Mount Cynthus,
which was sacred to them. Lempriere. — F.
COME : COME : COME. 55
thus I meet, yowr grace to greet ;
the grape is sweet & the last is best.
64 now let fall your angry brawlee l leave your
anger,
from im>Hortall & wayghtye sway ;
tis a gracious thing to please your JLing,
. drink and
& hear e you sing &c. sing!
68 Awfull sire, & king of fire ! Jove >
let wine aspire to thy mighty throne, ancHoin our
& in this quire of voices clere song !
Come thou, & beare an imorttall drame 2 ; [page 203]
72 for fury ends, & grace d[e] sends
With Stygian feinds to dwell for aye.
lett Nectur spring & thunder ring
when Ioue 3 doth sing &c. &c.
76 Vulcan, Momus, hermes, Bacchus, Vuicanand
Mars & Venus, 2 and tooe,
Phebus brightest, Iuno rightest,
& the mightyest of the crew,
80 Ioue, and all the heauens great 4 hall,
keepe festiuall & holy-day ! rejoice
since this sweete spring with her blacke thing wine.
will make you sing fa la la la.
ffins.
1 brawle. — P. 3 Jove. — P. MS. Iohue, with perhaps
2 drone, i. e. bass. — P. the h marked out. — F.
4 full here, struck out. — P.
56
€!)£ <Bvtm Xtnfgftt* 1
[In 2 Parts.— P.]
This is a late, popular version of the old romance of " Sir
Gawain and the Green Knight," preserved amongst the Cot-
tonian MSS. (Nero A. X. fol. 91) edited by Sir Frederick
Madden for the Bannatyne Club in 1839 and by Richard
Morris Esq. for the Early English Text Society in 1864. 2 The
old romance, written, according to Mr. Morris, about 1320 A.D.,
by the author of the Early English Alliterative Poems also
printed by the E. E. Text Society, is lengthy, is written in
alliterative metre, and is as difficult as the old alliterative poems
usually are. To dissipate this besetting obscurity, to relieve this
apparent tediousness, the present translation and abridgement
was made. The form is changed ; the language is modernised.
In a word, the old romance was adapted to the taste and under-
standing of the translator's time. Moreover, it was made to
explain a custom of that time — a custom followed by an Order
that was instituted, according to Selden and Camden, some three-
quarters of a century (a.d. 1399) after the time when, according
to Mr. Morris, the poem first appeared. It explains why
Knights of the bathe weare the lace
Untill they have wonen their shoen,
Or else a ladye of hye estate
From about his neeke shall it take
For the doughtye deeds hee hath done.
On this point Somerset Herald has kindly furnished us with
the following note :
1 A curious adventure of Sir Ga- turn p. 29-31 [of MS. ; pp. 70-3 of text].
waine, explaining a custome used by — P.
the Knights of the Bath. — P. ' l In his edition of Syr Gawayne, Sir
N.B. See a Fnigmrat p. 29 [of MS.; F. Madden printed the present poem as
vol. i. p. 70, 1. 213 of text] wherein is No. III. in his Appendix, p. 224-242.
mention of a Green ~ii.iiight & decapita-
THE GISKNK KNIGHT. ~)7
College of Arms, June 8.
It appears to have been the custom of Knights of the Bath, from at
least as early as the reign of Henry IV., to wear a lace or shoulder
knot of white silk on the left shoulder of their mantles or gowns,
(" theis xxxii nw kni3tes preceding immediately before the king hi
theire gownis, 1 and hoodis, and tookins of whi^te silke upon theire
sliouldeirs as is accustumid att the Bath : " MS. temp. Edw. IV.,
fragment published by Hearne at the end of Sprott's Chronicle,
p. 88). This lace was to be worn till it should be taken off by the
hand of the prince or of some noble lady, upon the knight's having
performed " some brave and considerable action," vide Anstis's
History of the Order. What this custom originated in does not
appear, and the writer of the poem has only exercised the allowed pri-
vilege of his craft, in attributing the derivation to the adventure of Sir
Gawaine and " the Lady gay " in this legend of "The Green Knight."
In the Statutes of the Order, 11th of George I. 1725, it is com-
manded that they shall wear on the left shoulder of their mantle "the
lace of white silk antiently worn by the said knights," but there is
no mention of its being taken off at any time for any reason.
J. R. Planche\
The recast belongs then to an age which was beginning to
study itself, and to enquire into the origin of practices which it
found itself observing. It is an infant antiquarian effort. But the
poem has lost much of its vigour in the translation. It is in its
present shape but a shadow of itself. Moreover, the following copy
appears much mutilated. Several half-stanzas have dropped out
altogether, probably through the sheer carelessness of the scribe.
The two leading persons of the romance are the well-known
Sir Gawain, of King Arthur's court, and Sir Bredbeddle of the
West country — the same knight who appears in King Arthur
and the King of Cornwall, vol. i. p. 67. The main interest
rests upon Sir Gawain. His " points three " — his boldness, his
courtesy, his hardiness — are all proved. He is eager for adven-
tures; he unshrinkingly pursues them to the end; he bears
extreme hardships patiently ; his courtesy is shown in his nobly
1 Froissart says, " un double cordeau de soye blanche a blanches louppettes pendans."
58
THE GRENE KNIGHT.
resisting the overtures made him by his host's wife, whom Agostes
has brought to his bedside.
The ladye kissed him times three,
Saith, " Without I have the love of thee,
My life standeth in dere."
Sir Gawaine blushed on the Lady bright,
Saith, " Your husband is a gentle Knight,
By Him that bought mee deare !
To me itt were great shame,
If I shold doe him any grame,
That hath beene kind to mee."
All these provings are given much more fully in the original
romance. But enough is given here to uphold the fame of the
chivalrous knight. See the Turk and Oowin.
When
Arthur
lived, he
ruled all
Britain,
JLlST ! wen l Arthur he was ~K.ing,
he had all att his leadinge
the broad He of Brittaine ;
England & Scottland one was,
& wales stood in the same case,
the truth itt is not to layne. 2
and lived, for
a time, in
peace.
To stop his
knights con-
tending for
precedency,
12
he drive allyance 3 out of this He,
soe Arthur liued in peace a while,
as men 4 of Mickle maine,
knights strong of 5 their degree
[strove] which, of them hyest shold bee ;
therof Arthur was not faine ;
he made the
Round
Table,
that all
bee made the round table for their behoue,
that none of them shold sitt aboue,
but all shold sitt as one, 6
1 when. — P.
2 without layne, i.e. without lying. —
or withowt altering the line (only dele it
is) it is "Not to conceal the truth." — P.
Old Norse leyna, to hide. — F.
3 drave aliens. — P.
4 man. — P.
5 Kn 1 . 9 strove of (about) &c. — P.
G at one. — P. Compare Arthur, E. E.
Text Soc, p. 2, 1. 43-53 :
At Cayrlyone, wyt^oute fable,
he let make be Rouwde table :
THE GRENE KNIGHT.
59
1G the King hiniselfe in state royall,
Dame Gueneuer our queene withall,
seemlye of body and bone.
might be
equal.
itt fell againe the christmase,
20 many came to that Lords place,
to that worthye one
with helme on l head, & brand bright,
all that tooke order of knight;
24 none wold linger att home.
One Christ-
mas many
knights
came to
Arthur's
court.
28
there was noe castle nor manowr free
that might harbour that companye,
their puissance was soe great,
their tents vp the pight 2
for to lodge there all that night,
therto were sett to meate.
No house
could hold
all of them,
so they
pitched their
tents,
Messengers there came [&] went 3
32 with much victualls verament
both by way & streete ;
wine & wild fowle thither was brought,
within they spared nought
36 for gold, & they might itt gett.
and food
was served
to them.
40
Now of King Arthur noe more I mell 4 ;
but of a venterous knight I will you tell 5
that dwelled in the west country e 6 ;
Sir Bredbeddle, for sooth he hett 7 ;
he was a man of Mickele might,
& Jjord of great bewtye.
And why pat he maked hyt pus,
J?is was pe resoura y-wyss,
bat no man schulde sytt aboue ober,
ne hauo indignaciouw of hys hvo\>cr ;
And alle hadde .oo. seruyse,
For no pryde scholde aryse
For any degree of syttynge
Ober for any seruynge. — F.
But I shall
leave
Arthur,
and tell you
about
Sir Bred-
beddle.
1 MS. &.— F.
2 pitched, or put. — P.
3 and went. — P.
4 mell, meddle, fr. meler. Urry. — P.
5 I tell.— P.
6 See line 515. — F.
7 hight, was called. — P. The earlier
romance makes the knight's name "Bern-
<>0
THE GI1ENE KNIGHT.
He loved his
wife dearlj',
but she
loved Sir
Gawaine.
he had a lady to his l wiffe,
44 he loued her deerlye as his liffe,
shee was both blyth and blee 2 ;
because Sir Gawaine was stiffe in stowre,
shee loued him priuilye paramour, 3
48 & 4 shee neuer him see.
Her mother
Agostes
dealt in
witchcraft,
itt was Agostes that was her mother ;
itt was witchcraft & noe other
that shee dealt with all :
could trans-
form men,
and told
Bredbeddle
to go, trans-
formed,
52
56
shee cold transpose knights & swaine
like as in battaile they were slaine,
wounded 5 both Lim & lightt, 6
shee taught her sonne the "knight alsoe
in transposed likenesse he shold goe 7
both by fell and frythe ;
to Arthur's
court to see
adventures.
This was in
order to get
Gawaine
shee said, " thou shalt to Arthurs hall ;
for there great aduentures shall befall
60 That euer saw ~King or "Knight"
all was for her daughters sake,
that which she 8 soe sadlye spake
to her sonne-in-law the Knight,
64 because Sir Gawaine was bold and harclye,
[page 204]
lak de Hautdesert" (p. 78, 1. 2445); it
does not make his wife fall in love with
Gawain, hut Bernlak sends her to tempt
him (p. 75, 1. 2362). Gawain comes out
of the temptation as one of the most
faultless men that ever walked on foot,
and as much above other knights as a
pearl is above white pese (1. 2364). The
enchantress is Morgne la Faye, Arthur's
half-sister and Gawaine's aunt ; and she
sends Bernlak to Arthur's court in the
hope that his talking with his head in
hand would bereave all Arthur's knights
of their wits, and grieve Guinevere, and
make her die (p. 78, 1. 2460). The de-
scription of Morgne la Faye (p. 30-1) is
very good, with her rough yellow wrinkled
cheeks, her covered neck, her black chin
muffled up with white vails, her fore-
head enfolded in silk, showing only her
black brows, eyes, nose, and lips " sowe
to se and sellyly blered." — F.
1 MS. wis.— F.
- so bright of blee, blee is colour,
complexion, bleo S. Color. Urry. — P.
3 I w? read par amour. — P.
4 and yet. — P.
5 and wound. — P.
6 ly the, a joint, a limb, a nerve, Sax.
li*, artus. Urry. — P.
7 to go.— P.
8 MS. that theye which.— F.
THE GKENE KNIGHT.
61
& therto full of curtesye, 1
to bring him into her sight.
brought to
her daugh-
ter.
the knight said " soe mote I thee,
68 to Arthurs court will I mee hye
for to praise thee right,
& to proue Gawaines points 3 ;
& that be true that men tell me,
72 by Mary Most of Might."
Bredbeddle
agrees to go,
and prove
whether
Gawaine is
so good.
76
earlye, soone as itt was day,
the K^night dressed him full gay,
vmstrode 2 a full good steede ;
helme and hawberke both he hent,
a long fauchion verament
to fend them in his neede.
Bredbeddle
starts next
day
on horse-
back.
that 3 was a lolly sight to seene,
80 when horsse and armour was all greene,
& weapon that hee bare,
when that burne was harnisht still,
his countenance he became right well,
84 I dare itt safely e sweare.
lie was a
goodly sight,
in his green
armour, and
on his green
horse.
88
that time att Carleile lay our K.ing ;
att a Castle of flatting was his dwelling,
in the fforrest of delamore. 4
for sooth he 5 rode, the sooth to say,
to Carleile 6 he came on Christmas day,
into that fayre countrye. 7
Arthur is at
Carlisle,
at Castle
Flatting,
in Delamere
Forest.
Bredbeddle
arrives on
Christmas
day.
1 : ' bat fyne fader of nurture " the old
romance calls him, p. 29, 1. 919. — F.
2 and strode, i. e. bestrode. — P. um =
round. See the elaborate description of
the knight, his armour and horse, in the
old romance, p. 5-6, 1. 151-202.— F.
Yt, i. e. it.— P.
Delamere. — P. In Cheshire. — II.
for soe hee. — P.
Camylot, in the old romance. — F.
countrye, faire. — P.
62
THE GKENE KNIGHT.
The porter
asks
him where
he's going to.
"To see
King Arthur
and his
lords."
The porter
tells Arthur
when he into that place came, 1
92 the portei* thought him a Marnelons groome
he saith, " Sir, wither wold yee ? "
hee said, " I am a venterous K.night,
& of yo«r King wold haue sight,
96 & other Lonfe that heere bee."
noe word to him the porter spake,
hut left him standing att the gate,
& went forth, as I weene,
1 00 & kneeled downe before the K.ing ;
saith, "in lifes dayes old or younge,
such a sight I haue not seene !
of the Green
Knight's
arrival,
and the
king
orders him
to be let in.
" for yonder att yo«r gates right ; "
104 he saith, " hee is 2 a venterous ~K.night ;
all his vesture is greene."
then spake the Kmg proudest in all, 3
saith, " bring him into the hall ;
108 let vs see what hee doth meane."
Bredbeddle
conies,
wishes
Arthur God
speed,
112
when the greene ~Knight came before the Kmg,
he stood in his stirrops strechinge,
& spoke with voice cleere,
& saith, " K.ing Arthur, god saue thee
as thou sittest in thy prosperitye,
& Maintaine thine honor 4 !
and says he
has come
to challenge
his lords to
a trial of
manhood.
" why 5 thou wold me nothing but right ;
116 I am come hither a venterous [Knight, 6 ]
& kayred 7 thoi'row countrye farr, 8
to proue poynts in thy pallace
that longeth to manhood in euerye case
120 among thy Lorcfs cleere."
1 come or was come. — P.
- there is. — P.
3 first or foremost of all. — P.
4 honnere. — P.
8 for why, because. — F.
6 Knight.— P.
7 have gone ; A.-S. cerran, cirran, to
turn, pass over or by. — P.
8 farre, or perhaps faire. — P.
THE GKENE KNIGHT.
63
consents to
let him try
on foot,
or horse-
back.
the King, lie sayd l full still 2 Arthur
till he had said all his will ;
certein thus can 3 he say :
124 " as I am true knight and King,
thou shalt haue thy askinge !
I will not say thy nay, 4
" whether thou wilt 5 on foote fighting,
128 or on steed backe G iusting
for loue of Ladyes gay.
If & thine armor be not fine,
I will giue thee part of mine."
132 " god amercy, Lord ! " can he say,
" here I make a challenging
among the Lords both old and younge
that worthy beene in weede,
136 w7m'c1i of them will take in hand 7 —
hee that is both stiffe and stronge
and full good att need —
" I shall lay my head downe, [page 205]
140 strike itt of if he can 8
with a stroke to garr 9 itt bleed,
for this day 12 monthe another at his :
let me see who will answer this,
144 a knight 10 that is doughtye of deed;
" for this day 12 month, the sooth to say,
let him come to me & seicth his praye ;
rudlye, 11 or euer hee blin, 12
Bredbeddle
challenges
Arthur's
lords :
he'll let any
one
cut his head
off,
for a return
cut at his
executioner's
head a year
hence
1 satt,— P.
2 quietly.— P.
3 certes then 'gan. — P.
4 say thee nay. — P. \>y is the abla-
tive of the A.-Sax. demonstrative pro-
noun, se, seo, \(Bt. — F.
5 wilt be. — P. wilt = wishest, pre-
ferest. — H.
6 on steed-back, i.e. on horse-back.
—P.
7 hond.— P.
8 con. — P.
a gar, cause. — P.
>° perhaps To a k*. —P.
11 redlye, i.e. readily. Vid. G.D.— P.
12 blin, linger, delay. — P.
64
THE GKENE KMGHT.
at the
Greene
Chappell.
148 whither to come, I shall liira tell,
the readie way to the greene chappell,
that place I will be in."
Kay
the Kmg att ease sate full still,
152 & all his lords said but litle *
till he had said all his will,
vpp stood Sir Kay that crabbed kmght,
spake mightye words that were of height,
156 that were both Loud and shrill ;
accepts the
challenge.
The other
knights tell
Kay to be
quiet ;
he's always
getting into
a mess.
160
" I shall strike his necke in tooe,
the head away the body froe."
the bade him all be still,
saith, 2 " Kay, of thy dints make noe rouse, 3
thou wottest full litle what 4 thou does s ;
noe good, but Mickle ill."
Sir Gawaine
says it will
be too bad if
Arthur
doesn't let
him take the
adventure.
Eche man wold this deed haue done.
164 vp start S^r Gawaine soone,
vpon his knees can kneele,
he said, " that were great villanye
without you put this deede to me,
168 my leege, as I haue sayd ;
Arthur
consents,
but not till
after dinner.
172
" remember, I am jour sisters sonne."
the Kmg said, " I grant thy boone ;
but mirth is best att meele ;
cheere thy guest, and giue him wine,
& after dinner, to itt fine,
& sett the buffett well ! "
1 littel— P.
2 i. c. they say. — P.
* praise, extolling, boast. — Jun. per-
haps roust, noise. G. Doug. — P.
* that.— P.
5 doest. — P.
THE GRENE KNIGHT.
65
now the greene Knight is set att meate,
176 seemly e 1 serued in his seate,
beside the round table,
to talke of his welfare, nothing he needs,
like a Knight himselfe he feeds,
180 with long time reasnable. 2
Bredbeddle
dines.
184
when the dinner, it was done,
the Kmg said to Sir Gawaine soone,
withouten any fable
he said, " on 3 you will doe this deede,
I pray Iesus be jour speede !
this knight is nothing vnstable."
Arthur
wishes
Gawaine
God speed.
Bredbeddle
is a stiff one.
the greene Knight his head downe layd ;
188 Sir Gawaine, to the axe he braid 4
to strike w*'th eger will ;
he stroke the necke bone in twaine,
the blood burst out in eue/ye vaine,
192 the head from the body fell.
Gawaine
chops off
Bredbeddle's
head.
196
the greene Knight his head vp bent, 5
into his saddle wightilye 6 he sprent,
spake words both Lowd & shrill,
saith : " Gawaine ! thinke on thy couenant !
this day 12 monthes see thou ne want
to come to the greene chappell ! "
Bredbeddle
picks it up,
jumps into
his saddle,
reminds
Gawaine to
meet him
twelve
months
hence,
1 MS. seenlye, with a horizontal line
and two vertical strokes over the n,
denoting a contraction, and showing
that I ought to have read as m the
similar n in the heading of " Eger and
Grine," vol. i. p. 341. The title would
then have corresponded with the text ;
but never having noticed the contraction
before, I hesitated to alter the MS. — F.
- reasonable. — P.
3 an.— P.
4 See Herbert Coleridge's Glossary on
this word, Old Norse bregta. He abstracts
from Egilson. As a neuter verb it is
used " of any violent motion of body,
as to leap." — F.
s took. — P. The old romance makes
some of the knights kick the head with
their feet, 1. 428.— F.
6 actively. — P.
VOL. II.
66
THE GRENE KNIGHT.
rides ofE,
All had great maruell, that the see
200 that he spake so merrilye
& hare his head in his hand,
forth att the hall dore he rode right,
and that saw both King and knight
204 and Lords that were in land.
puts his
head on
again,
and promises
Gawaine
a better
buffet.
208
without the hall dore, the sooth to saine,
hee sett his head vpon againe, 1
saies, " Arthur, haue heere my hand !
when-soeuer the Knight cometh to mee,
a better buffett sickerlye
I dare him well warrand."
Arthur is
very sorry
for Gawaine,
so is Lance-
lot.
Gawaine
cheers them
np,
swears that
the greene Knight away went.
212 all this was done by enchantment
that the old witch had wrought,
sore sicke fell Arthur the King,
and for him made great mourning
216 that into such bale was brought.
the Queen, shee weeped for his sake ;
sorry was Sir Lancelott dulake,
& other were dreery in thought
220 because he was brought into great perill ;
his mighty e manhood will not availe,
that before hath freshly e fought.
So* Gawaine comfort King and Queen,
224 & all the doughtye there be-deene 2 ;
he bade the shold be still ;
said, " of my deede I was neuer feard, 3
nor yett I am nothing a-dread,
228 I swere by Saint Michaell ;
[page 206]
1 The old romance makes the head
open its eyelids and speak while it's on F.
the knight's hand, 1. 446.— P. 3 fraid.— P.
immediately. — P. or all together. —
THE GRENE KNIGHT.
67
" for when draweth toward my day,
I will dresse me in mine array
my promise to fulfill.
232 Sir," he saith, " as I haue blis,
I wott not where the greene chappell is,
therfore seeke itt I will."
the rorall Couett * verament
236 all roue-lit 2 Sa Gawaines intent,
they thought itt was the best,
they went forth into the feild,
knights that ware both speare and sheeld
240 the priced 3 forth full prest 4 ;
some chuse them to Iustinge,
some to dance, Reuell, and sing ;
of mirth the wold not rest.
244 all they swore together in fere,
that and Sot Gawaine oue/--come were,
the wold bren all the west.
Now leaue wee the King in his pallace.
248 the greene Knight come home is
to his owne Castle ;
this folke frend 5 when he came home
what doughtye deeds he had done.
252 nothing he wold them tell ;
full well hee wist in certaine
that his wiffe loued Sa- Gawaine
that comelye was vnder kell. 6
256 listen, Lo/-c7s 7 ! & yee will sitt,
& yee shall heere the second ffitt,
what adventures Sa Gawaine befell.
he'll keep
his pledge,
and will
seek out
the Green
Chapel.
The court
approve,
and go forth
to joust,
revel,
and sport,
swearing to
revenge
Gawaine if
he's killed.
Bredbeddle
reaches his
home,
tells no one
what he has
done,
but knows
that bis wife
loves
Gawaine.
1 royall Courtt. — P. ? covey, Fr.
couvee. — F.
2 ? reached, took in. — F.
* pricked. — P.
4 ready. — P.
5 His folke freyn'd, i.e. inquired. — P.
6 A child's caul, any thin membrane.
" Rim or kdl wherein the bowels are
lapt." Florio, p. 340. Sir John "rofe
my kell " (deflowered me) MS. Cantab.
IT. v. 48, fo. Ill, Halliwell's Gloss.— F.
7 Lordings. — P.
i- -i
68
THE GRENE KNIGHT.
The year is
up, and
Gawaine
must go.
The king
and court
grieve.
260
2? parte.
264
[Part II]
The day is come that Gawaine must gone ;
Knights & Ladyes waxed wann
that were without in that place ;
the Kmg himselfe siked ill,
ther Queen a swounding almost fell,
to that Iorney when he shold passe.
His steed
was dapple-
grey,
268
When he was in armour bright,
he was one of the goodlyest JLnights
that euer in brittaine was borne,
they brought Sir Gawaine a steed,
was dapple gray and good att need, 1
I tell wi'thouten scorne ;
his bridle
jewelled^
his stirrups
silk;
his bridle was with stones sett,
272 with, gold & pearle ouerfrett,
& stones of great vertue ;
he was of a furley 2 kind ;
his stirropps were of silke of ynd ;
276 I tell you this tale for true.
he glittered
like gold.
when he rode ouer the Mold,
his geere glistered as gold.
by the way as he rode,
280 many furleys 3 he there did see,
fowles by the water did flee,
by brimes & bankes soe broad.
1 Gryngolet is the steed's name in the
old romance, but his colour is not given.
All the jolly bits about his trappings,
and Gawaine' s armour, with its pentangel
devised by Solomon, and called in
English " the endeles knot," are omitted
here. — F.
2 ferlie, wonder, wonderful ; Sax.
ferlic, repentinus, horrendus, Gl. ad
G.D.— P.
3 ? MS. furlegs, for ferlies, wonders.
— F.
THE GRENE KNIGHT.
69
many furleys there saw hee
284 of wolues & wild beasts sikerlye ;
on hunting- hee tooke most heede.
forth he rode, the sooth to tell,
for to seeke the greene chappell,
288 he wist not where l indeed.
Gawaine sees
wondrous
beasts ;
As he rode in an eue[n]ing late,
riding downe a greene gate, 2
a faire castell saw hee, 3
292 that seemed a place of Mickle pride ;
thitherward Sir Gawaine can ryde
to gett some harborrowe. 4
[page 207]
discerns a
castle,
rides to
it,
thither he came in the twylight,
296 he was ware of a gentle Kmght,
the hord of the place was hee.
Meekly to him Sir Gawaine can speake,
& asked him, "for ~Kmg Arthurs sake,
300 of harborrowe I pray thee !
and asks its
lord
lodging
304
" I am a far Labordd Knight,
I pray you lodge me all this night."
he sayd him not nay,
hee tooke him by the arme & led him to the hall,
a poore child 5 can hee call,
saith, " dight well this palfrey."
for the night.
The lord
leads him in,
into a chamber the went a full great speed ;
308 there the found all things readye att need,
I dare safelye swere ;
1 The k is made over an er in the MS.
-F.
2 gate, way, Isl. Gata, via. Gl. ad G.D.
-P.
3 hee saw, or saw he there. — P.
4 harburee or harbere. Lodging. Urry.
—P.
5 " Sere segges," several men, "stabeled
his stede, stif men in-noje." Old Eom.
which has a fine description of the
castle and room, &c. — F.
70
THE GRENE KNIGHT.
and they go
to supper.
The lord's
wife
sups with
them,
and then
retires.
The lord
asks Ga-
waine
what he has
come there
for.
He will keep
his counsel.
fier in chambers burning bright,
candles in chandlers l burning light ;
312 to supper the went full yare. 2
he sent after his Ladye bright
to come to supp with that gentle K.night,
& shee came blythe with-all ;
316 forth shee came then anon,
her Maids following her eche one
in robes of rich pall. 3
as shee sate att her supper,
320 euer-more the Ladye clere
Sir Gawaine shee looked vpon.
when the supper it was done,
shee tooke her Maids, & to her chamber gone. 4
324 he cheered the J&dght & gaue him wine,
& said, " welcome, by St. Martine !
I pray you take itt for none ill ;
328 one thing, Sir, I wold you pray ;
what you make soe farr this way ?
the truth you wold me tell ;
" I am a ~Knight, & soe are yee ;
332 Your concell, an you will tell mee,
forsooth keepe itt I will ;
for if itt be poynt of any dread,
perchance I may helpe att need
336 either lowd or still."
Gawaine
tells him all,
not knowing
he was in
for 5 his words that were soe smooth,
had Sir Gawaine wist the soothe,
all he wold not haue told,
1 Candlesticks. — P.
2 Yare, acutus, ready, eager, nimble.
—P.
3 any rich or fine Cloth, but properly
purple: taken from the llobe worn by
Bishops. — P. See the description of the
Ladye in the old romance, with " Hir
brest & hir bry3t brote bare displayed,"
(p. 30-1).— F.
4 Next line wanting in the MS. — F.
5 for all. — P. The old romance keeps
the secret till the end. — F.
THE GRENE KNIGHT.
71
340 for that was the greene "Knight
that hee was lodged with that night,
& harbarrowes l in his hold.
Bredbeddle'f
castle.
he saith, "as to the greene chappell,
344 thitherward I can you tell,
itt is but furlongs 3.
the Master of it is a venterous Knight,
& workes by witchcraft day & night,
348 with many a great furley. 2
Bredbeddle
directs
Gawaine to
the Green
Chape],
(whose
master
works
witchcraft),
" if he worke w/th neuer soe much frauce, 3
he is curteous as he sees cause.
I tell you sikerlye,
352 you shall abyde, & take yowr rest,
& I will into yonder fforrest
vnder the greenwood tree."
but advises
him to stay
and rest.
they plight their truthes 4 to beleeue, 5
356 either w^th other for to deale,
whether it were siluer or gold ;
he said, " we 2 both [sworn 6 ] wilbe,
what soeuer god sends you & mee,
360 to be parted on the Mold."
The greene Knight went on hunting 7 ;
Sir Gawaine in the castle beinge,
lay sleeping in his bed.
They agree
to share
whatever
either may
get.
1 harberoVd, lodged. — P.
2 wonder. — P.
3 perhaps frais — to make a noise,
crash. G. ad G.D.— P.
4 trothes. — P.
5 be leil. — P. See Leele, 1. 478. But
if the text is right, see Wedgwood on be-
lieve in his English Etymology. " The
fundamental notion seems to be, to ap-
prove, to sanction an arrangement, to
deem an object in accordance with a
certain standard of fitness." — F.
6 ? See 1. 481, "wee were both."
The old romance sets out the agreement
at length, 1. 1105-9: What the Green
Knight wins hunting in the wood, Ga-
waine is to have ; what Gawaine gets at
home, the Green Knight is to have —
" Sweet, swap we so, swear with truth,
whether, man, loss befall, or better." — F.
7 The spirited accounts in the old
romance of the three-days' hunt of the deer,
wild boar, and fox, are all left out here.
All the go is taken out of the poem. — F.
72
THE GRENE KNIGHT.
Bredbeddle's
witch
mother-in-
law
364 Vprose the old witclie with hast thro we, 1
& to her dauhter can shee goe,
& said, " be not adread ! "
[page 208]
tells his wife
that Ga-
waine
is in the
castle,
and takes
her to him,
to her daughter can shee say,
368 " the man that thou hast wisht many a day,
of him thou maist be sped ;
for Sir Gawaine that curteous Knight
is lodged in this hall all night."
372 shee brought her to his bedd.
and tells
him to
embrace her.
shee saith, " gentle Knight, awake !
& for this faire Ladies sake
that hath loued thee soe deere,
376 take her boldly in thine armes,
there is noe man shall doe thee harme ; "
now beene they both heere.
The wife
kisses him
thrice,
and asks his
love.
Gawaine
the ladye kissed him times 3,
380 saith, "without I have the loue of thee,
my life standeth in dere. 2 "
Sir Gawaine blushed on the Lady bright,
saith, " jour husband is a gentle Kjiight,
384 by him that bought mee deare !
refuses to
shame his
host.
" to me itt were great shame
if I shold doe him any grame, 3
that hath beene kind to mee ;
388 for I haue such a deede to doe,
that I can neyther rest nor roe, 4
att an end till itt bee."
1 tho, then. — P. Sc. thro, thra, eager,
ernest, Isl. thru, pertinax. Jfimieson. The
old romance makes the Green Knight's
wife go to Gawaine of herself, and on
three successive nights. — F.
2 Dere, Isedere, nocere. Lye. — P.
3 Grame — Chauc 1 ! . Grief, sorrow, vexa-
tion, anger, madness, trouble, affliction.
S. D, am [or Gram,] furor. Urry. — P.
4 A. -Sax. row, quiet, repose. — F.
THE GRENE KNIGHT.
73
then spake that Laclye gay,
392 saith, " tell me some x of yowr Iourney,
j our succour I may bee ;
if itt he poynt of any warr,
there shall noe man doe you noe darr 2
396 & yee wilbe gouemed by mee ;
" for heere I haue a lace of silke,
it is as white as any milke,
& of a great value."
400 shee saith, " I dare safely e sweare
there shall noe man doe you deere 3
when you haue it 4 vpon you."
Sir Gawaine spake mildlye in the place,
404 he thanked the Lady & tooke the lace,
& promised her to come againe.
the ~K.nicjht in the fforrest slew many a hind,
other venison he cold none find
408 but wild bores on the plaine.
plenty e of does & wild swine,
foxes & other ravine,
as I hard true men tell.
412 Sir Gawaine swore sickerlye
" home 5 to your owne, welcome you bee,
by him that harrowes hell ! "
the greene ~Knight his venison downe Layd ;
416 then to S/r Gawaine thus hee said,
" tell me anon in heght, 6
what noueltyes that you haue won,
for heers plenty of venison."
420 S/r Gawaine said full right,
The wife
offers to
help Ga-
waine in his
adventure,
and will
give him a
silk lace
that will
protect him
from all
harm.
Gawaine
takes the
lace.
Bredbeddle,
after
hunting,
is welcomed
hoire by
Gawaine.
lie shares
his venison
with Ga-
waine,
1 Sir.— P.
2 A.-S. dar, injury, hurt. — F.
3 hurt, vid. supra [p. 72, n. 2].— P.
4 on you. — P. There is a bit of a p
or & in the MS. between it and vpon.— ~F.
5 to your own home welcome, &c.
—P.
6 speed ; like highing, from to high, — F.
74
THE GRENE KNIGHT.
and Ga-
waine gives
him his
three kisses,
Sir Gawaine sware by S* Leonard, 1
" such as god sends, you shall haue rjart
in his armes he hent the Knight,
424 & there he kissed him times 3,
saith, " heere is such as god sends mee,
by Mary most of Might."
but keeps
back the
lace.
Next day
euer priuilye he held the Lace :
428 that was all the villanye that euer was
prooued by 2 Sir Gawaine the gay.
then to bed soone the went,
& sleeped there verament
432 till morrow itt was day.
Gawaine
takes leave,
and rides
towards the
chapel.
then Sir Gawaine soe curteous & free,
his leaue soone taketh hee
att 3 the Lady soe gaye ;
436 Hee thanked her, & tooke the lace,
& rode towards the chappell apace ;
he knew noe whitt the way.
[page 209]
Bredbeddle
rides there
too.
euer more in his thought he had
440 whether he shold worke as the Ladye bade,
that was soe curteous & sheene.
the greene knight rode another way ;
he transposed him in another array,
444 before as it was greene.
Gawaine
hears a horn,
as Sir Gawaine rode ouer the plain e,
he hard one high 4 vpon a Mountaine
a home blowne full lowde.
1 November 6. — S. Leonard or Lionart
may be termed the Howard of the sixth
century. He was . . probably received into
the Church at the same time as his royal
master, Clovis, with whom he was in
high favour, and who gave him permission
to set many of the prisoners at liberty
who were confined in the dungeons which
his charity prompted him to visit. Notes
on the Months, p. 341.
2 on. — P. A.-Sax. be, bi, of, concern-
ing.— F.
3 of.— P. Att is right.— F.
4 on high. — P.
THE GRENE KNIGHT.
75
448 lie looked after the greene cliappell,
he saw itt stand vnder a hill
couered With euyes l about ;
and sees the
Green
Chapel,
he looked after the greene Knight,
452 he hard him wehett a fauchion bright,
that the hills rang about,
the 'Knight spake wi'th strong cheere,
said, " yee be welcome, S[ir] Gawaine heere,
45 G it behoove th thee to Lowte." 2
he stroke, & litle perced the- skin,
vnneth the flesh within.
then Sir Gawaine had noe doubt ;
and the
Green
Knight ;
who calls
him to lay
down his
head,
then strikes,
but hardly
cuts through
the flesh.
460 he saith, " thou shontest 3 ! why dost thou soe ? "
then S/r Gawaine in hart waxed throe 4 ;
vpon his ffeete can stand,
& soone he drew out his sword,
464 & saith, " traitor ! if thou speake a word,
thy liffe is in my hand 5 ;
I had but one stroke att thee,
& thou hast had another att mee,
468 noe falshood in me thou found ! "
He re-
proaches
Gawaine for
shrinking.
Gawaine
threatens
to kill him.
the 'Knight said withouten laine,
" I wend I had S/r Gawaine slaine,
the gentlest Knight in this land 6 ;
472 men told me of great renowne,
of curtesie thou might haue woon the crowne
aboue both free & bound, 7
Bredbeddle
answers that
Gawaine
1 I suppose Ivyes or perhaps Eughes,
i.e. yews. — P.
2 somegreat omission. Note in MS. Sir
Gawayne and the Green Knight makes
Gawaine answer that he is ready and
will not shrink. " Then the grim man
seizes his grim tool," strikes, and as it
comes gliding down, Gawaine shrinks a
little. Bredbeddle (that is, Bernlak de
Hautdesert) reproaches him for his
cowardice. Gawaine promises not to
shrink again, stands firm, and Bred-
beddle strikes, (ed. Morris, E. E. Text
Soc. p. 72-4.)— F.
3 slmntest, flinchest, shrinkest. — F.
4 forte idem ac Thra, apud G. Doug^
ferox, acer, audax, vel potius pertinax.
Vide Lye.— P.
5 hond.— P.
6 Londe.— P. 7 bond.— P.
76
THE GKENE KNIGHT.
has lost his
three chief
virtues, of
truth, gen-
tleness, and
courtesy.
He has
concealed
the lace,
and should
have shared
it.
" & alsoe of great gentrye ;
476 & now 3 points l be put fro thee,
it is the Moe pittye :
Sir Gawaine ! thou wast not Leele 2
when thou didst the lace conceale
480 that my wiffe gaue to thee !
" ffor wee were both, thou wist fall well,
for thou hadst the halfe dale 3
of my venerye 4 ;
484 if the lace had neuer beene wrought,
to haue slaine thee was neuer my thought,
I swere by god verelye !
Tet Bred-
beddle will
forgive him
if he'll take
him to
Arthur's
court.
"I wist it well my wiffe loued thee ;
488 thou wold doe me noe villanye,
but nicked her wz'th nay ;
but wilt thou doe as I bidd thee,
take me to Arthurs court with thee,
492 then were all to my pay. 5 "
Gawaine
agrees.
They go
back to
Hutton
Castle,
and next
day on to
Arthur's
court.
now are the Knights accorded thore G ;
to the castle of hutton 7 can the fare,
to lodge there all that night.
496 earlye on the other day
to Arthurs court the tooke the way
with harts blyth & light.
All rejoice
at Gawaine's
return.
all the Court was full faine,
500 aliue when they saw Sir Gawaine ;
they thanked god abone. 8
1 perhaps these points, q. d. thou hast
forfeited these qualities. — P.
2 i. e. loyal, honourable, true. — P.
3 A.-S. dM, part. — F.
4 venison, or rather hunting. So in
ChaucT. Fr. Venerie. Urry. — P.
5 content, liking. — P.
6 there.— P.
7 Hutton Manor-house, [Somerset-
shire] : the hall, 36 feet by 20, is of the
fifteenth century, with arched roof and
panelled chimney-piece. Domestic Archi-
tecture, iii. 342. The scene is laid "in
the west country e," see 1. 39, 1. 515. — F.
8 ? MS. aboue. — F. aboone, abone,
idem. — P.
THE GRENE KNIGHT.
77
that is the matter & the case
why Knights of the bathe weare the lace
504 vntill they haue wonen their shoen, 1
or else a ladye of hye estate
from about his necke shall it take,
for the doughtye deeds that hee hath done.
508 it was confirmed by Arthur the K[ing ;]
thorrow Sir Gawaines desiringe
The King granted him his boone.
This is why
knights of
the Bath
wear the
lace till
they've won
their spurs,
or a lady
takes the
lace oS.
Thus endeth the tale of the greene Knight, [page 210]
512 god, that is soe full of might,
to heauen their soules bring
that haue hard this litle storye
that fell some times in the west countrye
516 in Arthurs days our King ! ffillS.
God bring
all my
hearers to
heaven !
This little
story befell
in the West
Country.
' Seep. 123, 1. 1232.— F.
[It may be noted, that as the story is
told here, the point of it is missed. As
the agreement of Bredbeddle and Gawaine
is here only to share with the other what
each gets, p. 71, 1. 356, not to change it,
as in the old romance. Bredbeddle
gives Gawaine only half his venison, p. 76,
1. 482, and Gawaine gives Bredbeddle
half his gettings, three kisses, out of
three kisses and a lace. As he couldn't
cut three kisses in half, to go with the
half of the lace, he divided the gift fairly
in another way, — the three kisses to
Bredbeddle, the lace to himself. Rather
hard measure to lose one's "3 points"
for that.— F.]
78
£>tr: Crfamore.: 1
The earliest known existing copy of this Eomance is preserved
at Cambridge. It is of the time of Henry VI., according to
Mr. Halliwell, who has edited it for the Percy Society. There
is, too, an old MS. copy preserved in the Bodleian Library.
The Eomance once enjoyed a wide popularity. It was twice
printed by William Copland. From one of these editions Mr.
Ellis draws the outline he gives in his Early English Metrical
Romances. One of the old printed versions was reprinted by
Mr. Utterson in 1817. The copy here given differs but slightly
from Copland's and from the Cambridge version. The more
important of what differences there are, are mentioned in the
notes.
The piece is a fair specimen of the old Eomances, with all
their vices and their virtues ; with their prolixity, their impro-
bability, their exaggeration ; with their wild graces also, their
chivalrousness, their pageantry.
The story tells how a good lord and his gentle lady were
estranged by the treachery of their steward ; how their son, con-
ceived in honour, was born in shame ; how, after many a weary
year, the execrable fraud was discovered ; and how, at last, the son
(who has in the meantime won himself a wife) and his mother
are happily reunited to the grieving husband. These various
incidents are described with much power and feeling.
King Arradas was blessed with a wife, Margaret, " comely to be
seen, and true as the turtle-doves on trees." As their union was
not followed by the birth of any child, the King determines to
1 271 Stanzas.— P.
SIR TRIAMORE. 79
go and fight in the Holy Land, so to propitiate Heaven and per-
suade it to grant him an heir. On the very eve of his departure
his desire is granted. But he sets forth to the wars not knowing.
During his absence his steward Marrock evilly solicits the
Queen. "But she was steadfast in her thought." When the
King returned from heathenness, and
at last his Queen beheld,
And saw her go great with child,
He wondered at that thing.
Many a time he did her kiss,
And made great joy without miss,
His heart made great rejoicing.
The wicked steward avails himself of the King's wonder to
insinuate, and more than insinuate, that the child is none of his.
The King unhappily listens. The Queen is presently, at the
steward's advice, banished the country.
So now is exiled that good Queen,
But she wist not what it did mean,
Nor what made him to begin.
To speak to her he nay would ;
That made the Queen's heart full cold,
And that was great pity and sin.
*****
For oft she mourned as he did fare,
And cried and sighed full sore.
Lords, knights, and ladies gent
Mourned for her when she went,
And bewailed her that season.
In this way came to pass the sad schism that was to bring so
many years of forlornness and anguish, the source of so many
bitter tears and poignant self-reproaches. The child whom the
dishonoured lady then bore in her womb was to be a full-grown
man, and a warrior even more formidable than his father himself,
ere Arradas and Margaret kissed conjugally again. Who does
not rejoice when the fair fame of this true wife is vindicated, the
iniquity of her tempter made bare? When at last, at the
marriage of their son, Sir Triamour, to the beautiful Helen of
Hungary, she and her husband are again brought face to face :
80 SHI TR1AMORE.
King Arradas beheld his Queen ;
Him thought that he had her seen,
She was a lady faire.
The King said, " If it is your wish,
Your name me for to tell,
I pray you with words fair."
" My lord," said she, " I was your Queen ;
Your steward did me ill teen.
That evil might him befall ! "
The King spake no more words
Till the cloths were drawn from the boards,
And men rose in hall,
And by the hand he took the Queen,
So in the chamber forth he went,
And there she told him all.
Then was there great joy and bliss
When they together gan kiss ;
Then all the company made joy enough.
But we do not propose here to gather the wild flowers of this
poem for our readers. They shall wander through the meadows
and cull for themselves. They will easily find them blowing
and blooming, if they have any care for the blossoms of Romance.
yo^auT LOW ! Iesus Christ, o 2 heauen King !
grant you all his deare blessing,
& his heauen for to win !
Hsten 1 ' 11 4 if y ou wm a stond 3 lay to youv eare,
ataie lly ° U of ad ventures you shall heare
that wilbe to yowr liking,
f Ki n g of a "King & of a queene
8 that had great Ioy them betweene ;
Sir Arradas 4 was his name ;
and Queen Be na( ^ a queene named Margarett,
shee was as true as Steele, & sweet,
defamed 8 by 12 & full false brought in fame 5
1 Now. — Cop. (or Copland's edition. 4 Ardus. — Ca. (or Cambridge text,
Collated by Mr. Hales.) ed. Halliwell.— F.)
2 our. — Cop. 5 evil report, disrepute ; L. fa ma (in
3 stounde. — Cop. a bad sense), ill-repute, infamy, scandal ;
.SIK TKIAMUKE.
81
16
by the "Kings steward that Marrocke hight,
a traitor & a false knight :
herafter yee will say all the same,
hee looued well that Ladye gent ;
& for shee wold not with him consent,
he did that good Queene much shame.
Sir Marrock
because she
would not
yield to him.
this King loued well his Queene
20 because shee was comlye l to be seene,
& as true as the turtle on tree,
either to other made great Moane,
for children together had they none
24 begotten on their bodye ;
Arradas and
Margaret
lament
that they
are childless,
28
therfore the King, I vnderstand,
made a vow to goe to the holy land,
there for to fight & for to slay 2 ;
& praid god that he wold send him tho
grace to gett a child be-tweene them tow,
that the right heire might bee.
and Arradas
vows to go
to the Holy
Land,
praying God
to send him
an heir.
for his vow he did there make,
32 & of the pope the Crosse he did take,
for to seek the land were god him bought,
the night of his departing, on the Ladye Mild,
as god it wold, hee gott 3 a child ;
36 but they both wist itt naught.
He begets a
child on his
wife,
& on the morrow when it was day
the King hyed on his Iourney ;
for to tarry, he it not thought.
and next
day starts
on his
journey.
famosas, infamous. (White.) Compare
For yf it may be founde in thee
That thou them fame for enmyte,
Thou shalt be taken as a felon,
And put full depe in my pryson.
VOL. II.
The Squyr of Lowe Dcgre. 1. 392
(Kitsoniii. 161, Hall!).— F.
1 semely. — Cop.
2 sle. — Cop.
3 gate. — Cop.
82
SIR TRIAMOJRE.
Queen
Margaret
mourns ;
40 then the Queene began to mourne
because her "Lord wold noe longer soiourne ;
shee sighed fall sore, & sobbed oft.
their parting
is sad.
the 'King & his men armed them right,
44 both Lords, Barrons, & many a knight,
wz'th.him for to goe.
then betweene her & the King
was much sorrow & mourninge
48 when the shold depart in too.
Arradas
charges
Marrock to
take care of
his Queen,
52
he kissed & tooke his leaue of the Queene x
& other Ladies bright & sheene,
& of Marrocke his steward alsoe ;
the King commanded him on paine of his life
for to keepe well his queene & wiffe
both in weale & woe.
and goes to
the Holy
Land.
Marrock
wooes the
Queen,
and seeks to
lie with her.
Margaret is
true,
56
60
64
68
now is the King forth gone
to the place where god was on the crosse done,
& warreth there a while,
then bethought this false steward —
as yee shall here affcer[ward, 1 ] —
his lord & King to beguile ;
he wooed 2 the Queene day & night
for to lye wi'th her, & he might ;
he dread no creature thoe.
ffull fayre hee did that Lady speake, [ page 2 n]
that he might in bed with, that Ladye sleepe ;
thus full oft he prayed her thoe.
but shee was stedfast in her thought,
& heard them speake, & said nought
till hee all his case 3 had told.
MS. hereafter. P. has added ward.—F. 2 wowed.— Cop. • 1 tale.— Cop.
SIR TKIAMORE.
83
then shee said, " Marrocke, hast thou not thought
all that thou speakeest is ffor nought ?
I trow not that thou wold 1 ;
and re-
proaches
Marrock.
76
" for well my Lord did trust thee,
when hee to you deliuered mee
to haue me vnder the 2 hold ;
& [thou] woldest full faine
to doe thy Lord shame !
traitor, thou art to bold ! "
Her lord
trusted him,
and he
betrays his
trust.
then said Marrocke vnto that Ladye,
80 " my Lord is gone now verelye
against gods foes to flight ;
&, without the more wonder bee,
hee shall come noe more att thee,
84 as I am a true knight.
Marrock
tells the
Queen
that Arradas
is sure never
to return ;
88
" & Madam, wee will worke soe priuilye,
that wethere 3 he doe Hue or dye,
for of this shall 4 witt noe wight. 5 "
then waxed the Queene wondcrous [wroth, 6 ]
& swore many a great othe
as shee was a true woman,
and promises
to keep their
sin secret.
Margaret
angrily
shee said, " traitor ! if euer thou be soe hardiye
92 to show me of such villanye,
on a gallow tree I will thee hange !
if I may know after this
that thou tice me, I- wis 7
96 thou shalt haue the law of the land."
threatens to
hang
Marrock,
if he says
another
word to her.
1 I didn't think you were capable of
this.— F.
2 they. — Cop.
3 After the first e an A is marked out.
— F.
4 there shall. — Ca.
5 man. — P.
6 Added by Percy.— F.
7 tyce me to do a mysse. — Cop.
g 2
84
SIR TRIAMORE.
Marrock
assures her
lie meant
her no
wrong,
but only to
try her
truth.
Sir Marroccke said, " Ladye, mercy e I
I said itt for noe villaine,
by Iesu, heauen Kinge !
100 but only for to prone jour will,
whether that you were good or ill,
& for noe other thinge ;
Now he
knows she is
true,
she must not
be vexed.
" bnt now, Madam, I may well see
104 yon are as true as turtle on the tree l
vnto my Lord the King ;
& itt is to me both glad & leefe ;
therfore take it not into greefe
108 for noe manner of thinge."
Margaret
believes him.
But
Marrock,
disgusted,
112
& soe the traitor excused him thoe,
the Lady wend itt had beene soe
as the steward had said.
he went forth, & held him still,
& thought he cold not haue his will ;
therfore hee was euill apayd.
schemes how
to betray
her,
and does it.
2 soe wt'th treason & trecherye
116 he thought to doe her villanye ;
thus to himselfe he said,
night & day hee laboured then
for to betray 3 that good woman ;
120 soe att the last he her betraid.
Arradaa
now of this good Queene leaue wee,
& by the grace of the holy trinityo
full great -with, child did shee gone.
124 now of ~FLing Arradas speake wee,
that soe farr in heathinnesse is hee
to fight against gods fone 4 ;
1 as stele on tree. — Ca.
2 This stanza is not in Ca.
3 deceyue. — Cop.
* fonne. — Cop.
SIR TRIAMORE.
85
there with his army & all his might
128 slew many a sarrazen l in fight,
great words of them there rose
in the heathen Land, & alsoe in Pagaine 2 ;
& in enerye other Land that they come bye,
132 there sprang of him great losse. 3
and his men
slay
Saracens
and grow
famous.
when [he 4 ] had done his pilgrimage,
& labored all that great voyage 5
with all his good will & lybertye, —
136 att fflome lor den & att Bethlem, 6
& att Calnarye beside Ierusalem,
in all the places was hee ; —
[page 212]
After
visiting
Jordan and
Calvary,
then he longed to come home
140 to see his Ladye that liued at one ;
he thought euer on her greatlye.
soe long the sealed on the fome
till att the last they came home ;
144 he arriued oner the Last 7 strond.
he longs for
home,
and sets sail.
the shippes did strike their sayles eche one,
the men were glad the ILmg came home
vnto his owne Land.
148 there was both mirth & game,
the Queene of his cominge was glad & faine,
Eche of them told other tydand. 8
Arradas
reaches
home,
meets
Margaret,
the "King at last his Queene beheld,
152 & saw heer goe great with childe :
[& 9 ] hee wondred att that thinge.
and finds
her great
with child,
to his
wonder.
1 sarzyn. — Cop.
2 Pagany. — Cop.
3 Loos or fame, Fama. Prompt.orium.
-F.
4 he.— Ca.
5 vayge. — Cop.
6 Bedleem. — Cop.
7 salte. — Cop.
8 tydynge. — Cop.
9 A hole in the MS.
86
SIK TMAMORE.
Marrock
tells him
that the
child is
many a time he did her kisse,
& made great ioj without misse ;
156 his hart 1 made great reioceinge.
soone after the ~King hard tydinges newe
by Marroccke : that false knight vntrue
with reason his lord gan fraine,
160 " my lord," he sayd, " for gods 2 byne 3 !
for of that childe that neuer was thine, 4
why art thow soe fayne ?
certainly
not his. His
Queen has
been false ;
another
knight begot
the child.
"What?
When I put
her in your
charge ? "
Marrock
excuses
himself,
but declares
he saw a
knight lie
with her,
for which he
killed him,
" you wend that itt jotir owne bee ;
164 but," he said, " Sir, ffor certain tye
jour Queene hath you betraine ;
another K.night, soe god me speed,
begott this child sith you yeed,
168 & hath thy Queene forlaine."
" Alas ! " said the King, " how may this bee ?
for I betooke her vnto thee,
her to keepe in waile & woe 5 ;
172 & vnder thy keeping how fortuned this
that thou suffered her doe amisse ?
alas, Marroccke ! why did thou soe ? "
" Sir," said the steward, " blame not me ;
176 for much mone shee made for thee,
as though shee had loued noe more ;
" I trowed on her noe villanye
till I saw one lye her by,
1 80 as the Mele 6 had wrought,
to him I came w/th Egar mood,
& slew the traitor as he stood ;
full sore itt [me] forethought.
1 First written halt.— F.
2 Goddes. — Cop.
3 Goddys pyne. — Oa.
4 MS. thine was.— F.
5 weal & woe. — P.
6 ? Fr. mal, evil ; or meslee, a mixture,
mingling, melling. Cotgrave. — F.
SIR TRIAHORE.
87
184 " then sliee trowed shee shold be shent,
& promised me both Land & rent ;
soe fayre shee me besought
to doe with her all my will
188 if that I wold [keepe] me still,
& tell you naught."
and the
Queen pro-
mised him
herself for
his silence.
" of this," said the Km^f, " I haue great wonder ;
for sorrow my hart will breake assunder l !
192 why hath shee done amisse ?
alas ! to whome shall I me mone,
sith I haue lost my comlye Queene
that I was wont to kisse ? "
Arradaa
sorrows.
He has lost
his Queen
196 the "King said, "Marroccke, what is thy read ?
it is best to turne to dead 2
my ladye that hath done me this 2 ;
now because that shee is false to mee,
200 I will neuer more her see,
nor deale with her, I-wisse. 3 "
What can he
do? He'll
kill her.
the steward said, " hord, doe not soe ;
thou shalt neither burne ne sloe, 4
204 but doe as I you shall you tell."
Marroccke sayd, " this councell I :
banish her out of jour Land priuilye,
far into exile.
Marrock
advises
him to
banish her,
208 " deliuer her an ambling 5 steede,
& an old Knight to her lead ;
thus by my councell see 6 yee doe ;
[page 213] gi ve her a
horse
asonder. — Cop.
? turne is for burne, cp. 1. 203. — F.
brenne her to ded. — Cop.
Whether that sche be done to dedd
That was my blysse ? — Ca.
3 ywys. — Cop.
4 flo.— Cop.
5 ambelynge. — Cop. oolde. — Ca.
6 loke. — Cop.
88
SIR TRIAMORE.
and money,
and let her
go.
& giue tlieni some spending money
212 that may them out of the land bring ;
I wold noe better then soe.
Arradas
agrees.
" & an other mans child shalbe you heyre,
itt were neither good nor fayre
216 but if itt were of jour kin."
then said the ~King, " soe mote I thee,
right as thou sayest, soe shall it bee,
& erst will I neuer blin. 1 "
Queen
Margaret is
to be exiled ;
the King
will not
speak to her.
220 Loe, now is exiled that good Queene ;
but shee wist not what it did meane,
nor what made him to begin,
to speake to her he nay wold ;
224 that made the Queenes hart full cold,
& that was great pittye & sin.
He gives her
an old iteed,
an old
knight,
Sir Roger,
to look after
her,
he did her cloth in purple 2 weede,
& set her on an old steed
228 that was both crooked & almost blinde ;
he tooke her an old Knight,
kine to the Queene, Sir Rodger 3 hight,
that was both curteous 4 & kind.
and three
days to quit
the land in,
(or the
Queen will
be burnt,)
232 3 dayes he gaue them leaue 5 to passe,
& after that day sett was,
if men might them find,
the Queene shold burned 6 be starke dead
236 in a flyer with flames redd :
this came of the stewards 7 mind. 8
1 blyne.— Cop.
2 He let clothe hur in sympulle.-
3 Roger.- Cop.
4 curteyse. — Cop.
5 And gaf them twenty dayes.
-Ca. 6 brenned. — Cop.
7 stuardes. — Cop.
8 minid, in the MS— F.
Ca.
SIR TRIAMORE.
89
40'f florences for their expence l
the "King did giue them in his presence,
240 & comawnded them to goe.
the Ladye mourned as shee shold dye ;
for all this shee wist not whye
hee fared with her soe.
244 that good Knight comforted the Queene,
& said, " att gods will all must beene ;
therfore, Madam, mourne you noe more."
Sir Rodger for her hath much care,
248 [For ofte she mourned as she dyd fare, 2 ]
& cryed & sighed full sore ;
Lords, Knights, & ladyes gent
mourned for her when shee went,
252 & be-wayled 3 her that season.
the Queene began to make sorrow & care
when shee from the King shold fare
with wrong, against all reason.
256 forth they went, in number 4 3,
Sir Rodger, the Queene, & his greyhound trulye ;
ah ! o 5 worth wicked treason !
also forty
florins.
Queen
Margaret
mourns.
Sir Roger
comforts her,
but she
wails still,
and they set
off.
then thought the steward trulye
260 to doe the Queene a villanye,
& to worke with her his will.
he ordained him a companye
of his ovrae men priuilye
264 that wold assent him till ;
all vnder a Wood 6 side they did lye
wheras the Queene shold passe by,
& held them wonderous still ;
Marrock
gets his men
together,
and lies in
ambush for
the Queen,
1 Thretty florens to there spendynge.
-Ca.
2 This line is from Copland's text.— H.
3 MS. he wayled.— F.
4 nunnber, in the MS.— F.
wo.-
-Cop.
6 wodes. — Cop.
vv in the MS.— F.
The Wis matlo like
90
SIR TRIAMORE.
to work his 268 & there lie thought verelye
lust on her. , . 1 r\ r ±. i i
his good Queene tor to lye by,
his lusts l for to fulfill.
The Queen
and Sir
Roger
perceive
Marrock's
treason.
Sir Roger
prepares
& when hee came into the wood,
272 Sir Rodger & the Queene soe good,
& there 2 to passe with-out doubt ;
with that they were ware of the steward,
how hee was coming to them ward
276 with a ffull great rout.
"heere is treason ! " then said the Queene.
"alas! " said Roger, "what may this meane ?
with foes wee be sett round about."
280 the "Knight sayd, " heere will wee dwell ;
Our lifie wee shall full deere sell, [page 2U]
be they neuer soe stout.
for defence.
Marrock
threatens to
kill him.
Sir Roger
defies him,
attacks his
men,
" Madam," he sayd, " be not aflrayd,
284 for I thinke heere with this sword
that I shall make them lowte."
then cryed the steward to S/r Rodger on hye,
& said, " Lore?, 3 traitor ! thou shalt dye !
288 for that I goe about."
Sir Rodger said, " not for thee !
my death shalt thou deare abye;
for with thee will I fight."
292 he went to him shortlye,
& old Sir Rodger bare him manfullye 4
like a full hardye Knight ;
he hewed on them boldlye ;
296 there was none of that companye
soe hardye nor sow 5 wight.
1 lustes. — Cop.
2 ? construction. Is there miswritten
for thought, or is thought understood, or
is thereto one word ? — H.
3 olde. — Cop. 4 manly. — Cop.
5 so. — Cop.
SIR TRIAMORE.
91
Sir Rodger liitt l one on the head
that to the girdle the sword yeed,
300 then was hee of them quitte 2 ;
splits one to
the girdle,
he smote a stroke wt'th a sword 3 good
that all about them ran the blood,
soe sore he did them smite ;
304 trulye-hee, 4 his greyhound that was soo 5 good,
did helpe his master, & by him stood,
& bitterlye can hee byte.
wounds
others,
and his
greyhound,
Trulyhee,
helps.
then that Lady, that fayre foode, 6
308 she feared Marrocke in her mood ;
shee light on foote, & left her steede,
& ran fast, & wold not leaue,
& hid her vnder a greene greaue, 7
312 for shee was in great dread.
Queen
Margaret
dismounts,
runs away,
and hides
herself.
S/r Rodger then the Queene can behold,
& of his liffe he did nothing hold ;
his good grayhound did help him indeed,
316 &, as itt is in the romans 8 told,
14 he slew of yeomen 9 bold ; 10
soe he quitted him in that steade.
Sir Roger
kills fourteen
yeomen,
if hee had beene armed, I-wisse 1 1
320 all the Masterye had been his ;
alas hee lacked weed,
as good Sir Rodger gaue a stroake,
behind him came Sir Marroccke, —
324 that euill might he speed, —
but Marrock
1 hyt.— Cop.
2 quyte. — Cop.
3 swerde. — Cop.
4 Trewe-loue. — Ca.
5 de at the end has been marked out
of the MS.— F.
6 fode. — Cop. person. — F.
7 greye. — Cop. grove. — F.
8 Romaynes. — Cop.
9 yemen. — Cop.
10 xl'.' Syr Koger downe can folde. —
Ca.
11 ywis. — Cop.
92
SIR TRTAMORE.
stabs him in
the back
and kills
him.
Marrock
searches
everywhere
for the
Queen,
lie smote Sir Rodger with, a speare,
& to tile ground he did him beare,
& fast that Knight did bleed.
328 Sir Marroccke gaue him such a wound
that he dyed there on ground,
& that was a sinfull deede.
now is Rodger slaine certainlye.
332 he rode forth & let him Lye,
& sought after the Queene.
fast hee rode, & sought euerye way,
yet wist he not where the Queene Laye.
336 then said the traitor teene ; x
but cannot
find her : he
gets wroth,
ouer all the wood hee her sought ;
but as god wold, he found her nought.
then waxed he wrath, I weene,
340 & held his Iourney euill besett,
that with, the Queene had not mett
to haue had his pleasure, the traitor keene.
& when he cold not the lady finde,
344 homeward they began to wend,
hard by where Sir Rodger Lay.
the steward 2 him thrust throughout,
for of his death he had noe doubt,
348 & this the storye doth say.
and goes
home,
Roger's
corpse on
the way,
and having
lost fourteen
men.
& when the traitor had done soe,
he let him lye & went him froe,
& tooke noe thought that day ;
352 yett all his companye was nye gone,
14 he left there dead for one ;
there passed but 4 away. 3
1 If a stanza is not omitted, said must
mean assayed, tried. — F.
2 stuarde. — Cop.
3 xl. he had chaunged for oone.
Ther skaped but two away. — Ca.
SIR TRIAMORE.
93
then the Queene was ffull woe,
356 And shee saw thai they were goe,
shee made sorrow & crye.
then shee rose & went againe
to Sir Rodger, & found him slaine ;
360 his grey-hound by his feet did lye.
[page 215]
Queen
Margaret
laments over
" alas," shee said, " that I was borne !
my trew knight that I haue lorne,
they haue him there slaine ! "
364 full pitteouslye shee mad her moane,
& said, " now must I goe alone ! "
the grey-hound shee wold haue had full faine ;
Sir Roger's
corpse.
the hound still by his Master did lye,
368 he licked his wounds, & did whine & crye.
this to see the Queene had paine,
& said, "Sir Roger, this hast thou for me !
alas that [it] shold euer bee ! "
372 her hayre shee tare in twayne ;
The grey-
hound will
not leave the
corpse.
376
& then shee went & tooke her steed,
& wold noe longer there abyde
lest men shold find her there,
shee said, "Sir Roger, now thou art dead,
who will the right way now me lead ?
for now thow mayst speake noe more."
The Queen
laments
again the
loss of Sir
Roger,
right on the ground there as he lay dead,
380 shee kist him or shee from him yead. 1
god wott her hart was sore !
what for sorrow & dread,
fast away shee can her speede,
384 shee wist not wither nor where.
kisses his
corpse,
and speeds
away.
1 This incident is not in Ca. — F.
94
SIR TRIAMORE.
The hound
licks his
master's
wounds, to
heal them.
What love !
The hound
scrapes a
grave,
and buries
his master.
Margaret
rides on into
Hungary.
The pains of
labour come
on,
the good grayhound for waile & woe
from the 'Knight hee wold not goe,
but Lay & licked his wound ;
388 he waite l to haue healed them againe,
& therto he did his paine :
loe, such loue is in a hound 2 !
this knight lay till he did 3 stinke ;
392 the greay hound he began to thinke,
& scraped a pitt anon ;
therin he drew the dead 4 corse,
& couered itt with earth & Mosse, 5
396 & from him he wold not gone.
the grayhound lay still there ;
this Quee7ie gan forth to fare
for dread of her fone ;
400 shee had great sorrow in her hart,
the thornes pricked her wonderous smart, 6
shee wist not wither to goe.
this lady forth fast can hye
404 into the land of Hugarye 7 ;
thither came shee with great woe.
at last shee came to a wood side,
but then cold shee noe further ryde,
408 her paynes tooke her soe.
shee lighted downe in that tyde,
for there shee did her trauncell 8 abyde ;
god wold that it shold be soe.
412 then shee with much paine
tyed her horsse by the rayne,
& rested her there till her paynes were goe.
1 expected. — F.
2 Grete kyndenes ys in howndys. — Ca.
3 The last d is made over an s in the
MS.— F. * deed.— Cop.
6 And scraped on hym hothe ryne and
mosse. — Ca.
6 wonder smert. — Cop.
7 Hongarye. — Ca. Hongrye. — Cop.
8 for trauell, travail. — F. trauayll.
-Cop.
SIR TRIAMORE.
95
sliee was deliuered of a manchild sweete ;
416 & when it began to crye & weepe,
it ioyed her hart greatlye.
soone after, when shee might stirr,
shee tooke her child to her full neere,
420 And wrapt 1 itt full softlye. [page 216]
What for wearye & for woe,
they fell a-sleepe both to we ;
her steed stood her behind.
424 then came a knight rydand there, 2
& found this ladye soe louelye of cheere
as hee hunted after the hind.
the Knight hight Bernard Mowswinge, 3
428 that found the Queene sleepinge,
vnder the greenwoode lyande. 4
softlye he went neere & neere ;
he went on foot, & beheld her cheere,
432 as a Knight curteous & kind.
he awaked that ladye of beawtye 5 ;
shee looked on him pitteouslee,
& was affray d r> full sore.
436 he said, " what doe you here, Madame ?
of whence be you, or whats jouv name ?
haue you jour men forlorne 7 ? "
" Sir," shee sayd, " if you will witt, 8
440 my name is 9 called Margerett ;
in Arragon I was borne ;
heere I sufferd much greefe ;
helpe me, Sir, 10 out of this-Mischeefe !
444 att some towne that I were."
and she is
delivered of
a male child.
She joys,
takes her
baby to her,
and falls
asleep.
A knight
finds her,
Sir Bernard
Mowswinge,
wakes her,
and asks her
what she
does there,
what is her
name?
1 Margaret ;
help me ! "
1 wrauped. — Cop.
2 nere. — Cop.
3 Sir Barnarde Messengere. — Ca. Bar-
nard Mausewynge. — Cop.
4 lynde. — Cop.
s beaute. — Cop.
6 aferde. — Cop.
7 MS. forlorme. — F. forlore. — P.
8 wete. — Cop.
9 MS. is is; ?for it is.— F.
10 There appears a word like it marked
out here in the MS.— F.
96
Sir Bernard
takes her
and her
baby home,
gets a
woman to
tend her,
and gives
her all she
wants.
She christens
her boy
Triamore,
SIB TRIAMORE.
the Knight beheld the Ladye good ;
hee ' thought shee was of gentle blood
that was soe hard bestead 2 ;
448 he tooke her vp curteouslye,
& the child that lay her bye ;
them both with, hini he led,
& made her haue a woman att will,
452 tendinge of her, as itt was skill, 3
all for to bring her a-bedd.
whatsoever shee wold haue,
shee needed itt not long to craue,
456 her speech was right soone sped.
the christened the child wz'th great honour,
& named him Sir Tryamore.
then they were of him glad ;
460 great gifts to him was giuen
of Lords & ladyes by-deene,
in bookes as I read.
and stays
with her
new friends.
Triamore is
taught
courtesy,
and all folk
love him.
there dwelled that Ladye longe
464 wt'th much Ioy them amonge ;
of her the were neuer wearye.
the child was taught great nurterye 4 ;
a Master had him vnder his care,
468 & taught him curtesie. 5
this child waxed wonderous well,
of great stature both of fleshe & fell ;
euerye man loued him trulye,
472 of his company e all folke were glad ;
indeed, noe other cause they had,
the child was gentle & bold.
1 MS. shee.— F. And.— Ca.
2 bestadde. — Cop.
3 skell. — Cop. reason. — F.
4 nurture. — P. norture. — Cop.
5 Sche techyd hur sone for to wyrke,
And taght hym evyr newe. — Ca.
SIB TKIAMOliE.
97
Now of the Queene let wee bee,
476 & of the gray hound speake wee
that I erst of told.
Sir Roger's
grey hound
long 7 yeeres, soe god me sane,
he did keepe his Masters grane,
480 till that hee waxed old ;
this Gray-hound Sir Roger kept l long,
& brought him vp sith he was younge,
in stoxy as it is told ;
keeps to his
in-,ister"s
grave seven
years,
for Sir Roger
had brought
him up.
484 therfore he kept soe there
for the 2 space of 7 yeere,
& goe from him he ne wold,
euer vpon bis M.asters graue he lay,
488 there might noe man haue him away
for heat neither for cold,
The hound
never leaves
[page 217] the grave,
without it were once a day
he ran about to gett his prey 3
492 of beasts that were bold,
conyes, when be can them gett ;
thus wold he labor for his meate,
yett great hungar he bad in how. 4
except
to get food.
496 & 7 yeeres he dwelled there,
till itt beffell on that yeere,
euen on christmasse day,
the gray-hound (as the story sayes)
500 came to the K.ivgs palace 5
without any 6 delay.
One Christ-
mas
the hound
goes to
Arradas's
palace,
had kepte. — Cop.
By the. — Cop.
praye. — Cop.
4 holde. — Cop. How, care. Halliwull.
— F.
5 palayes. — Cop.
6 ony. — Cop.
VOL. II.
II
98
SIR TIUAMORE.
cannot find
what he
seeks,
and goes
back to Sir
Roger's
grave.
Arradas
thinks he
has seen the
dog before.
Next day
the hound
returns,
but cannot
find
Marrock.
Arradas says
it is Sir
Roger's dog,
and perhaps
the Queen
has come
back ;
when they LortZs were l sett at rrieate, soone
the grayhound into the hall runn
504 amonge the knights gay ;
all about he can behold,
but he see not what hee wold ;
then went he his way full right
508 when he had sought & cold not find ;
ffull gentlye he did his kind,
speed better when he might.
the grayhound ran forth his way
512 till he came where his ~M.aster Lay,
as fast as euer he mought.
the king marueiled at that deed,
from whence he went, & whither he yeed,
516 or who him thither brought.
the ~KAng thought he had seene him ere,
but he wist not well where,
therfor he said right nought.
520 soone he bethought him then
that he did him erst ken,
& 2 still stayd in that thought.
the other day, in the same wise,
524 when the ~K:ing shold from his meate rise,
the Grayhound came in thoe ;
all about there he sought,
but the steward found he nought ;
528 then againe he began to goe.
the[n] sayd the ILmg in thai stond,
"methinkes it is Sir Rogers hound
that went forth with the Queene ;
532 I trow they be come againe to this land.
Jjords, all this I vnderstand,
it may right well soe bee ;
1 The first e is made over an h in the MS. — F.
sate styll in a. — Cop.
SIR TRIAMORE.
99
" if that they be into this Land come,
536 we shall haue word therof soone
& within short space ;
for neuer since the went I-wisse
I saw not the gray hound ere this ;
540 it is a marueilous case !
" when he cometh againe, follow him,
fo[r] euermore he will run l
to his Masters dwelling place ;
544 run & goe, looke ye not spare,
till that yee come there
to Sir Rodger & my Queene."
when the
dog comes
again, some
lords are to
follow him
to Sir Roger
and the
Queen.
then the 3? day, amonge them all
548 the grayhound came into the hall,
to meate ere the were 2 sett.
Marrocke the steward was within,
the grayhound thought he wold not blin
552 till he with him had mett ;
Next day
the dog
comes again,
finds
Marrock,
he tooke the steward by the throte,
& assunder he it bote 3 ;
but then he wold not byde,
556 for to his graue he rann.
there follolwed him many a man,
some on horsse, some beside ;
and
bites him
through the
throat.
Men follow
the dog
& when he came where his "Master was,
560 he Layd him downe beside the grasse
And barked at the men againe. [page 218]
there might noe man him from the place gett,
& yett w/th staues the did him beate,
564 that he was almost slaine.
to Sir Roger's
grave,
which he will
not quit.
1 renne. — Cop.
2 werere, in the MS. — F.
3 MS. o over a y. — F. The. hovnd
wrekyd hys maystyrs dethe. — Ca.
h 2
100
They return,
and Arradas
says that
Marrock has
slain Sir
Roger.
He orders a
search for
his corpse.
They find
the body,
SIR TllIAMORE.
& when the men saw noe better boote,
then the men yeed home on horsse & foote,
with great wonder, I weene.
568 the King said, " by gods paine,
I trow Sir Marrocke hath Sir Rodger slaine,
& with treason famed l my Qneene.
" goe yee & seeke there againe ;
572 for the hounds M.aster there is slaine,
some treason there hath beene."
thither they went, soe god me saue,
& found Sir Roger in his graue,
576 for that was soone seene :
and take it
to Arradas,
who weeps,
laments over
Marrock's
treachery,
& there they looked him there vpon,
for he was hole both flesh & bone,
& to the court his body they brought.
550 for when the King did him see,
the teares ran downe from his eye,
full sore itt him forethought.
the gray hound 2 he wold not from his course 3 fare
584 then was the King cast in care,
& said, " Marroccke hath done me teene ;
slaine he hath a curteous Knight,
& famed 4 my Queene With great vnright,
588 as a traitor keene."
and hanged.
592
the King let draw anon- right
the stewards bodye, that false Knight,
with horsse through the towne ;
then he hanged him on a tree,
that all men might his body see,
^7i«t he had done treason.
1 defamed. — F. flemed. — Cop.
2 grehcmnd. — Cop.
3 corse. — Cop.
4 for famed, defamed.-
— Ca. flemed. — Cop.
-F. flemyd.
SIR TRIAMORE.
101
Sir Rogers Body the next day
596 the King bury eel in good array,
wrth many a bold baron. 1
Sir Roger's
corpse is
buried,
the Grayhound was neuer away
by night nor yet by day,
600 but on the ground he did dye.
the 'King did send his messengere
in euerye place far & neere
after the Queene to spye ;
604 but for ought he cold enquire,
he cold of that Ladye nothing heare ;
therfore the King was sorrye. 1
and his
hound
dies.
Arradas tries
to get
tidings of
his Queen,
but can hear
none.
the King sayd, " I trow noe reed,
608 for well I wott that shee is dead ;
for sorrowe now shall I dye !
alas, that euer shee from mee went !
this false steward hath me shent
612 throughe his false treachery e."
He thinks
her dead,
616
this King liued in great sorrow
both euening & morrow
till that hee were brought to ground,
he liued thus many a yeere
wrfch mourning & with, euill cheere,
his sorrowes lasted long :
and lives in
sorrow
many year3.
& euer it did him great paine
620 when hee did thinke how Sir Roger was slaine,
& how helped him his hound ;
& of his Queene that was soe Mylde,
how shee went from him great with child ;
624 for woe then did hee sound. 2
grieving
over Sir
Roger's
death
and his
pregnant
Queen's
banishment.
1 Percy marks the thrco la.sfc lines
as separate stanzas, but I add them
to those that precede them.
2 swoon. — F.
102
SIR TRIAMORE.
He mourns
and is sad at
heart.
long time thus lined the ~King
in great sorrow & Mourning,
& oftentime did weepe ;
628 he tooke great thought more & more,
It made his hart verrye sore,
his sighs were sett soe deepe.
[page 219]
Meantime
Triamore
is fourteen,
now of the Kmg wee will bline,
632 & of the Queene let vs begin,
& Sir l Tryamore ;
for when he was 14 yeere old,
there was noe man soe bold
636 durst doe him dishonor 2 ;
strong,
and tall,
and well-
doing.
in euerye time 3 both stout & stronge,
& in stature large & longe,
comlye of hye color ;
640 all that ener he dwelled amonge,
he neuer did none of them wronge,
the more that was his honor.
The King of
Hungary
dies,
leaving only
a daughter,
fair Helen,
of fourteen,
in that time sikerlye
644 dyed the ~King of Hungarye 4
that was of great age I-wiss 5 ;
he had no heire his land to hold
but a daughter was 14 yeers old 6 ;
648 faire [Hellen 7 ] shee named is.
white as a
lily.
shee was as white as lilye 8 flower,
& comely, of gay color,
the fairest of any towne or tower ;
1 her sonne. — Cop.
2 dysshonoure. — Cop.
3 . lymme. — Cop.
4 Hungry. — Cop.
5 The second s is made over an e in
the MS— F.
6 of vij. yerys elde. — Ca.
7 See 1. 775. Hellene, 1. 1587 below.—
F. Her name Helyne ys. — Ca. Elyne.
—Cop.
8 The top of a long s whose bottom is
marked through, is left in the MS. before
the first I. — F.
SIR TRIAMORE.
103
652 shee was well shapen of foote & hand,
peere shee had none in noe land,
shee was soe fresh & soe amorous.
for when her father was dead,
656 great warr began to spread
in that land about ;
then the Ladyes conncell gan her reade,
' gett her a lord her land to lead,
660 to rule the reahne without doubt;
some mightye prince that well might
rule her land with reason & right,
that all men to him might Lout.'
Her land is
invaded ;
her council
tell her to
marry a
lord to
protect her.
664 & when her councell had sayd soe,
for great need shee had therto,
shee graunted them without Lye :
the Lady said, "I will not feare
668 but he [be] prince or princes peere,
& cheefe of all chiualrye."
She consents,
therto shee did consent,
& gaue her Lords commandement
672 a great lusting for to crye ;
& at the Iustine, shold soe bee,
what man that shold win the degree, 1
shold win that Ladye trulye.
676 the day of lusting then was sett,
halfe a yeere without lett,
without any more delay,
because the might haue good space,
680 Lords, knights, dukes, in euerye place,
for to be there that day.
proclaims a
jousting,
the winner
at which
shall win her
too.
The day is
fixed.
1 Fr. degre, a degree, ranke, or place of honour. Cotgrave. — F.
104
SIR TRIAMORE.
The best
lords
prepare to
contend.
Triamore
hears of the
jousting,
and resolves
to go to it,
but he has no
horse or
arms.
Lords, the best in euerye Land,
hard tell of that rydand,
684 & made them readye fall gay ;
of euerye land there was the best, 1
of the States that were honest 2
attyred 3 many a Lady gay.
688 great was that chiualrye
that came that time to Hungarye,
there for to lust with might,
at last Triamore hard tyding
692 that there shold be a lusting ;
thither wold he wend.
if he wist that he might gaine
with all his might, he wold be faine 4
696 that gay Ladye for to win ;
hee had noe horsse nay noe other geere,
Nor noe weapon with him to beare ;
that brake his hart in twaine.
[page 220]
He asks Sir
Bernard to
lend hini
some,
and the
knight tells
him he
knows no-
thing about
it.
Triamore
asks to
be tried.
700 he thought both euen & morrow
where he might some armour borrowe,
therof wold hee be faine
to Sir Barnard then he can wend, 5
704 that he wold armour lend 6
to iust against the knights amaine. 7
then said Sir Barnard, " what hast thou thought ?
pardew ! of iusting thou canst nought !
708 for yee bee not able wepon to weld."
" Sir," said Triamore, " what wott yee
of what strenght that I bee
till I haue assay d in feeld ? "
1 bestee. — Cop.
2 moost honasty.-
-Cop.
3 dressed herself : parallel to 1. 684.
States may mean " nobles." — F.
4 He wolde purvey hym fulle fayne.
-Ca.
5 mene. — Cop.
6 lene. — Cop. 7 of mayne. — Cop.
SIR TRIAMORE.
105
712 then S/r Barnard that was full liend,
said, " Triamor, if thow wilt wend,
thou shalt lacke noe weed ;
I will lend thee all my geere,
716 horsse & harneis, sheild & spere,
thou art nothing 1 to dread ;
Sir Bernard
then prom-
ises to lend
him horse
and arms,
" alsoe thither with thee will I ryde,
& euer nye be by thy side
720 to helpe thee if thou haue need ;
all things that thow wilt haue,
gold & siluer, if thow wilt craue,
thy Iourney for to speed."
go with him,
and provide
him money.
724 then was Triamore glad & light,
& thanked Barnard wt'th all his might
of his great proferinge.
that day the lusting shold bee,
728 Triamore sett him on his knee
& asked his mother blessinge.
at home shee wold haue kept him faine ;
but all her labor was in vaine,
732 there might be noe letting,
shee saw it wold noe better bee,
her blessing shee gaue him verelye
w[i]th full sore weepinge.
On the day
of the joust,
Triamore
asks his
mother's
blessing,
anil she gives
it him
sorrowfully.
736 & when it was on the Morrow day,
Triamore was in good array,
armed & well dight ;
when he was sett on his steed,
740 he was a man both 2 lenght & bread, 3
& goodlye in mans sight.
In the
morning,
Triamore
1 nothenge. — Cop.
in.
-Cop.
3 brede. — Cop.
106
SIK TRIAMORE.
starts ■with
Sir Bernard.
then Triamore to the feeld can ryde,
& Sir Barnard by his side ;
744 they were Iocund & light ;
there was none in all the feild
that was more seemlye vnder sheild ;
he rode full like a knight.
Queen Helen
of Hungary
looks from a
turret
on the gay
scene of
748 then was the faire Lady sett
full hye vppon a turrett, 1
for to behold that play ;
there was many a seemlye K.night,
752 princes, Lords, & dukes of Might,
themselues for to assay,
helmed
knights.
Triamore
with helme on theire heads bright
that all the feelds shone with light,
756 they were soe stout & gay :
then Str triamore & Sir Barnard
the pressed them into the feeld forward, 2
there durst noe man say nay.
happens to
choose his
father, King
Arradas's
side.
760 there was much price 3 & pride
when eue?ye man to other can ryde,
& lords of great renowne ;
it beffell triamore that tyde
764 for to be on his fathers side,
the King of Arragon.
A big Lom-
bard lord
rides forth ;
Triamore
throws him,
the first that rode forth certainlye
was a great Lord of Lumbardye,
768 a wonderfull bold Barron.
Triamor rode him againe :
for all that lord had Might & maine,
the child bare him downe.
[page 221]
Hyo up in a garett. — Ca.
2 warde. — Cop.
prees. — Cop.
SIR TRIAMORE.
107
772 l then cryed Sir Barnard with honor,
"A TRIAMOR, a TRIAMORE ! "
for men shold him ken.
Mayd Hellen 2 that was soe mild,
776 more shee beheld triamore the child
then all the other men.
and Sir
Bernard
shouts "A
Tnmnore"
to make him
known.
Queen Helen
views him
with favour.
then the ~Kings sonne of Nauarrne 3
wold not his body warne 4 ;
'80 he pricked forth on the plaine.
then young Triamore that was stout,
turned himselfe round about,
& fast rode him againe ;
The Prince
of Navarne
rides out ;
Triamore
charges him ;
784 soe neither of them were to ground cast, 5
they sate soe wonderous fast,
like men of much might,
then came forth a Bachelour, 6
"88 a prince proud without peere ;
Sir lames, forsooth, he hight ;
neither is
thrown.
Sir James of
Almaigne
he was the Emperours sonne of Almaigne 7 ;
he rode Sir triamore 8 againe,
792 with hard strenght to fight.
Sir lames had such a stroake indeed
that he was tumbled from his steed ;
then failed all his might.
796 there men might see swords brast,
helmes ne sheilds might not last;
& thus it dured till night ;
next charge3
Triamore,
and is un-
horsed.
The joust
lasts
till night.
1 Ca. puts this stanza after the next.
-F.
2 Elyne. — Cop.
8 Armony. — Ca. Nauerne. — Cop.
4 A.-S. wamian, to take care of, beware.
-F.
5 Ca. makes Triamore bear him down,
and transfers this to Sir James in
the nest stanza. — F.
6 batchelere. — Cop.
7 Almaine. — Cop.
8 ? MS. Triamoir.— F.
108
SIR TRIAMORE.
Next day,
but when the sun drew neere l west,
800 and all the Lords went to rerst,
[Not so the maide Elyne. 2 ]
the Knights attired them in good arraye,
on steeds great, with, trappers 3 gaye,
before the sun can 4 shine ;
it begins
again,
and the
knights
charge
fiercely.
804 then to the feeld the pricked prest,
& euerje man thought himselfe best
[As the mayden faire they paste. 2 ]
then they feirclye ran together,
great speres in peeces did shimmer, 5
808
their timber might not last.
King
Arradas
is thrown by
his son
Triamore,
& at that time there did run 6
the King Arradas of Arragon :
his sonne Triiamore mett him in that tyde,
812 & gaue his father such a rebound
that harse & man fell to the ground, 7
soe stoutly e gan he ryde.
who also
vanquishes
Sir James.
then the next Knight that hee mett
816 was Sir lames ; & such a stroake him sett
vpon the sheild ther on the plaine
that the blood brast out at his nose & eares,
his steed vnto the ground him beares ;
820 then was Sir Barnard fame.
Queen Helen
falls in love
with
Triamore.
that Maid of great honor
sett her loue on younge triamore
that fought alwayes as a feirce 8 Lyon.
1 ferre. — Cop.
2 This line is from Copland's text. — H.
3 The trappings of horses. Halliwell.
— E.
4 gan. — Cop.
6 shyuer. — Cop.
6 dyde ronne. — Cop.
7 Tryamore must he supposed to have
changed since the first day, when he
was on his father's side: see 1. 763. In
1. 920, Arradas is accused of killing the
Emperor's son, whom Triamore slays
(1. 860-1), but he (Arradas) declares he
had nothing to do with it, 1. 974-9. He
only rescues his son from the Emperor's
men, 1. 866-7.— E.
8 fyers. — Cop.
SIR TRIAMORE.
109
824 speres that day many were spent,
& with swords there was many a stripe lent,
till the[re] failed light of the sunn.
on the Morrow all they were faine
828 for to come into the feild againe
with great spere & sheild.
then the Duke of Sinille, Sir Phylar, 1
that was a doughtye knight in euerye warr,
832 he rode first into the feild ;
Next day
the Duke of
Seville
836
& Triamore tooke his spere,
against the Duke he can it beare,
& smote him in the sheild ;
a-sunder in 2 peeces it went ;
& then many a louelye Lady gent,
full well they him beheld.
is charged
by Triamore,
and his
shield split.
840
844
then came forth a K.night that hight Terrey, sirTerrey
hee was a great Lord of Surrey, 2 Cpa s e 2 -^ of Syria
he thought Noble Teiamore to assayle ; charges
& Triamore rode to him blithe Triamore,
in all the strenght that he might driue,
he thought he wold not fayle ;
he smote him soe in that stond
that horsse & man fell to the ground, 3
soe sore his stroke he sett.
and gets
thrown.
848 then durst noe man att triamore [ride, 4 ]
for fortune held all on his side
all those dayes 3. 5
No one else
will try
Triamore ;
1 Syselle, sir Sywere.-
sir Fylar. — Cop.
-Ca. Cycyll,
2 The dewke of Lythyr, sir Tyrre.
-Ca.
. . . the dewke, bothe hors and man,
Turnyd toppe ovyr tayle. — Ca.
to Tryamoure ryde. — Cop.
The Cambridge text makes Triamore
110
SIR TRIAMORE.
but Sir
James
lies in wait
for him,
Sir lames, soime vnto the Emperour,
852 had enuye to Sir Triamore,
and laid wait l for him priuilye.
and runs
him through
the thigh,
att the last Triamore came ryding bye.
Sir lames said, " Triamore ! thou shalt dye,
856 for thou hast done me shame."
he rode to Triamore with a spere,
& thorrow 2 the thigh he can him beare ;
he had almost him slaine.
for which
Triamore
kills him,
but is beset
by his men.
860 but Tryamore hitt him in 3 the head
that he fell downe starke dead.
then was all his men woe ;
then wold they haue slaine Tryamore
864 without he bad had great succour 4 ;
they purposed to doe soe.
Arradas
rescues
Triamore,
and Sir
Bernard
takes him
home.
His mother
sends for a
doctor.
The jousting
knights
ride to
Queen Helen
with that came TLing Arradas 5 then,
& reschued Tryamore with all his men,
868 that stood in great doubt,
then Sir Barnard was full woe
that Tryamore was hurt soe ;
then to his owne house he him brought.
872 but when the Mother saw her sonns wound,
shee fell downe for sorrow to the ground,
& after a Leeche shee sent.
of 6 this, all the Lords that were 7 Iustinge,
876 to the pallace 8 made highinge, 9
& to that Ladye went.
serve " the dewke of Aymere" as he served
Terrey, and shiver the shield and spear of
James of Almayne, p. 28-9 Percy Soe.
ed.— P.
1 layde wayte. — Cop.
2 throughe. — Cop.
3 hvtt hym on. — Cop.
4 the greter socoure. — Cop.
5 Arragus. — Cop.
6 on or after. — F.
7 was at. — Cop.
8 pallayes. — Cop.
hyenge. — Cop.
SIR TRIAMORE.
Ill
truly, as the story sayes,
the x pricked forth to the pallace
880 the Ladyes will to heare,
Bachelours & knights prest,
that shee might choose of them the best
w7wch to her faynest were.
to hear
whom she
will choose.
884 the Ladye beheld all that fayre Meanye,
but Tryamore shee cold not see :
tho chaunged all her cheere,
then 2 shee sayd " Lore?, where is hee 3
888 that euerye day wan the degree ?
I chuse him to my peere. 4 "
She chooses
Triamore.
Where is he?
al about 5 the Tryamore sought ;
he was ryddn home ; the found him nought ;
892 then was that Ladye woe.
the ~Knights were afore her brought,
& of respite shee them besought,
a yeare & noe more :
896 shee said, " Lords, soe god me saue !
he that wan me, he shall me haue ;
ye wot well that my cry was soe."
the all consented her vntill,
900 for shee 6 said Nothing ill,
the said it shold be soe.
He can't be
found,
so Helen
asks for a
year's delay,
for when they had all sayd,
then answered that fayre Mayd,
904 " I will haue none but Tryamore."
then all the Lords that were present
tooke their Leaue, & home went ;
there wan the litle honor.
she will have
none but
Triamore.
1 they. — Cop.
2 Tho.— Cop.
3 he.— Cop.
4 fere. — Cop.
5 All aboute. — Cop.
6 had inserted, — Cop.
112
SIE TRIAMOltE.
Sir James's
men carry
his corpse
to his father,
the Emperor,
908 Sir lames men were nothing faine
because their Master, he was slaine,
That was soe stout in stowre ;
in chaire his body the Layd,
912 & led him home, as I haue sayd,
vnto his father the Emperour ;
[page 223]
and tell him
that
Triamore
& when that hee his sonne gan see,
a sorrye man then was hee,
916 & asked ' who had done that dishonor * ? '
the sayd " wee [ne] wott who it is I-wisse, 2
but Sir Tryamore he named is,
soe the called him 3 in the crye ;
and Arradas
killed his
son.
The Emperor
vows
revenge,
summons a
host,
and invades
Arragon.
920 " the Kmg of Arragon alsoe,
he helped thy 4 sonne to sloe,
with all his company e."
they said, " the be good warryoirs ;
924 they byte 5 vs with sharpe showers 6
with great villanye. 7 "
" Alas ! " said the Emperour,
" till I be reuenged on that tray tour,
928 now shall I neuer cease !
the shall haue many a sharpe shower,
both the King & Tryamore,
they shall neuer haue peace ! "
932 the Emperour sayd the shold repent ;
& after great companye he sent
of princes bold in presse,
Dukes, Earles, & lords of price. 8
936 with a great armye, the Duke sayes,
the yeed to Arragon without lesse.
1 dysshonour. — Cop.
2 has ywys. — Cop.
3 called the him. — Cop.
4 MS. the.— F.
5 bete. — Cop.
6 shoutes. — Cop.
7 vilany. — Cop.
8 pryse. — Cop.
SIR TIUAMOKE.
113
King Arradas * was a-dread 2
for the Emperour such power had,
940 that hattell hee wold him bid 3 ;
he saw his land nye oue>--gon,
& to a castle hee fledd anon,
& victualls * it for dread.
Arradas
takes refuge
in his castle,
944 6 the Emperour was bold & stout,
& beseeged the castle about ;
his 6 banner he began to spread,
& arrayd his host full well & wisely e,
948 with wepons strong & mightye
he thought to make them dread.
where the
Emperor
besieges him,
the Emperour was bold & stout,
& beseeged the castle about,
952 & his banner he gan to spread ;
he gaue assault 7 to the hold.
Kmg Arraclas was stout & bold,
ordayned him full well. 8
and assaults
it.
Arradas
956 with gunes & great stones round
were throwne downe to the ground,
& on the men were cast ;
they brake many backes & bones,
960 that they fought euerye[day 9 ] ones
while 7 weekes did last.
fires and
hurls stonea
on the
besiegers.
After seven
weeks,
964
the Emperour was hurt ill therfore,
his men were hurt sore,
all his Ioy was past.
1 Aragus. — Cop.
2 a-dradde. — Cop.
3 bydde. — Cop.
4 vytaylled. — Cop. vetaylyd. — Ca.
5 This stanza, which seems super-
fluous, is not in the Cambridge text.
— F.
VOL. II.
6 A letter like t, seemingly blotched
out, precedes his in the MS. — F.
7 assalte. — Cop.
9 And defendyd hym full faste.— Ca.
And ordered it full welle. Rawlinsou
MS. (Percy Soc, p. 62).— F.
9 day.— Cop.
114
SIR TRIAMORE.
Arradas TLing Arradas thought fall longe
that hee was beseeged soe stronge,
with, soe much might & maine :
sends to 968 2 Lords forth a Message he sent,
the Emperor & straight to the Emperour the ' went,
soe when they cold him see,
of peace 2 they can him pray, 3
972 to take truce 4 till a certaine day.
the kneeled downe on their knee,
to say that
he did not
slay his son ,
and to
propose a
settlement
of their
quarrel by
single
combat ;
if the
Emperor's
knight wins
Arradas will
give in ;
if Arradas's
knight wins,
& said, " our 'King sendeth word to thee
that he neue?* jour sonne did slay, 5
976 soe he wold quitt him faine ;
he was not then present,
nor did noe wise 6 consent
that jour sonne was slaine.
980 That [he] will proue, if you will soe,
jour selfe and he betweene you tow,
if you will it sayne ;
" or else take jour selfe a K.night,
984 & he will gett another to fight
on a certaine day :
if that jour ~Knight hap soe
ours for to discomfort or sloe,
988 as by fortune itt may,
our ~King then will doe jour will,
be att yowr bidding lowde & still
without more delay ;
992 " & alsoe if it you betyde
that jour 'knight on jour sjde
be slaine by Mischance,
[page 224
1 y y . — Cop. " peas.— Cop.
3 Only the long part of the y is in the
MS.— F.
4 treues.— Cop.
5 sle. — Cop.
6 noe wise did. — Cop.
8IK TKIAMOHE.
115
096
My Lord shall make jour warr to cease, 1
[and we shall after be at pease, 2 ]
w/thout any distance. 3 "
the Emperor
shall stop
his siege.
1000
the Emperour said 4 without fayle
" sett a day of Battell
by assent of the Kmg of france ; "
for he had a great Campiowne, 5
in euerye realme he wan 6 renowne ;
soe the Emperour ceased his distance.
The
Emperor
agrees,
as he has a
famous
champion.
when peace was made, & truce came, 7
1 004 then Kmg Arradas were 8 a Ioyfull man,
& trusted vnto Tryamore.
Soe after him he went w/thout fayle,
for to doe the great battelle
1008 to his helpe & succour.
Arradas
sends for
Triamore
to fight for
him,
1012
his Messengers were come & gone,
ty dings of him hard 9 the none.
the Kmg Arradas thought him long,
" & he be dead, I may say alas !
who shall then fight with Marradais
that is soe stout & stronsre ? "
but can hear
no tidings of
him,
when Tryamore was whole l0 & sound,
1016 & well healed of his wound,
ho busked him for to fare ;
Triamore
gets well,
1 sease. — Cop.
2 This line is from Copland's text. — H.
II ( prcyeth yow that ye wyll cese,
And let owre londys be in pees. — Ca.
3 " Dystaunce, supra in Debate vel
Dyscorde (discidia)." Promptorium.
Fr. distance, difference. Cotgrave. — F.
4 We keep the said of the MS., though
it is not wanted, and the Cambridge text
has not got it. — F.
5 Champion. MS. campanye. — F.
Company. — Cop.
6 the.— Cop.
' fcreues tane. — Cop.
8 was. — Cop.
9 herde.— Cop. •• hole.— Cop.
i 2
116
SIR TRIAMORE.
and asks his
mother who
his father is.
he sayd, "mother," with mild cheere,
" & I wist what my father were,
1020 the lesse were my care."
His mother
will not tell
him till he
marries.
" sonne,"
so he starts
for Arragon.
On his way
he sets his
greyhounds
at a hart,
and is
attacked by
fourteen
foresters.
Triamore
tries to
pacify them,
offers them
all hia
money.
1024
1028
1032
shee said, " thou shalt witt ;
when l thou hast Marryed that Ladye sweet,
thy father thou shalt ken."
" mother," he said, "if you will [soe, 2 ]
haue good clay, for now I goe
to doe my Masteryes if I can. 3 "
then rode he ouer dale & downe
vntill he came to Arragon,
ouer many a weary way.
aduentures many him befell,
& all he scaped full well,
in all his great Iourney.
he saw many a wild beast
both in heath & in forrest ;
he had good grey-hounds 3 ;
then to a hart he let them run
till 14 fosters spyed him soone,
soe threatened him greatlye ;
they yeede to him with weapons on euerye side ;
it was noe boote to bid them byde ;
Tryamore was loth to flye,
& said vnto them, " Lortfa, I you pray,
lett me in peace wend my way
1044 to seeke my grayhounds 3."
then said Tryamore as in this time,
" gold & siluer, take all mine
if 4 that I haue tresspassed ought,"
1036
1040
1 Whan. — Cop.
2 soo. — Ca.
3 and speke wyth my leminan.-
* Of.— Cop.
-Ca.
SIR TRIAMORE.
117
1048 The said, "wee will meete with, thy anon, [page 225]
there shall noe gold borrow thee soone, 1
but in prison thou shalt be brought,
Such is the law of the ground ; 2
1052 Whosoeuer therin may be found,
other way goe the nought."
then Sir Tryamore was full woe
t hat to prison he shold goe;
1056 hee thought the flesh to deare bought,
there was no more to say,
the fosters att him gan lay
with strokes sterne and stout.
1060 there Tryamore with them fought ;
some to the ground be brought ;
he made them lowe to looke ;
some of them fast gan pray,
1064 the other fled fast away
with wounds wyde that they sought. 3
Tryamore sought & found 4 his gray-hounds ;
he hear[k]ned to their yerning 5 sounds,
1068 & thought not for to leaue them soe.
at last he came to a water side ;
there he saw the beast abyde
that had slaine 2 of his grayhounds ;
1072 the 3^ full sore troubled the hind,
& he hurt him with his trinde 6 ;
then was Tryamore woe.
if the battaile had lasted a while,
1076 the hart wold the hound beguile, 7
& take his life for euermore.
They refill-
it,
and threaten
to prison
him.
Triamore
is attacked
by the
foresters,
and soon
discomfits
them,
but finds
two of his
greyhounds
slain by a
hart,
and the other
wounded.
1 ? MS. : it may be meant for frome ;
but one stroke of the m is missing. — F.
2 Ca. has "ye must lese yowre ryght
honde."— F.
3 ? tooke.— F.
4 rod and sought. — Cop.
5 ? running. — F.
8 One stroke of the n is wanting in the
MS. Ca. has Tyndys, branches of the
antlers. — F.
7 begyle. — Cop.
118
SIR TRIAMORE.
Triamore
kills the
deer,
blows his
horn,
and king
Arradas
hears it.
Tryamore smote att the deere,
and 1 to the hart went the spere ;
1080 then his home he blew full sore,
the King Lay there beside
at Mannowr 2 that same tide ;
he hard a home blowe :
A forester
runs in,
1084 they had great wonder in hall,
both Knights, Squiers, 3 & all,
for noe man cold it know.
With that ran in a foster
1088 into the hall with euill cheere,
& was full sorry, I trow.
tells the king
that his
keepers have
been slain
by the
knight
the King of tydings gan him fraine ;
he answered, " Sir King, jour Keepers be slaine,
1092 and lye dead on a rowe.
there came a knight that was mightye,
he let 3 grayhonnds that were wightye,
& laid my fellowes full lowe : "
that blew
the horn.
Arradas says
he wants
such a man..
1096 he sayd, it was full true
that the same that the home blew
that all this sorrow hath wrought.
King Arradas said then,
1100 " I haue great need of such of a man ;
god hath him hither brought."
and tells
three knights
to fetch him.
the King commanded Knights 3,
he said, " goe 4 feitch yond gentleman to me
1104 that is now at his play ;
looke noe ill words with him yee breake,
but pray him with me for to speake ;
I trow he will not say nay."
1 One stroke of the n missing in the
MS.— F.
2 maner. — Cop.
3 Squiers, knights. — Cop.
4 MS. god.— F.
SIR TRIAMORE.
119
1108 Euerye knight his steed hent,
& lightlye to the wood l the went
to seeke Tryamore that child,
the found him by a water side
1112 where he brake the beast 2 that tyde,
that hart that was soe wylde.
the said, " Sir ! god be at yowr game! "
he answered them euen the same ;
1116 then was he frayd of guile.
" S<r Knight ! " they said, " is itt jour will
to come & speake our Kmg vntill
with word[e]s meeke & mylde ? " [page 226]
1120 Tryamore asked shortlye, 3
" what hight joicr King, tell yee mee,
that is lord 4 of this land ? "
" this Laud hight Arragon,
1124 & our King, Arradas, w/th crowne;
his place his heire att hand."
The knights
find
Triamore,
6alute him,
and ask if he
will come to
their king,
Arradas of
Arragon.
Tryamore went vnto the K.[ing } 1
& he was glad of his cominge,
1128 he knew him att first sight ;
the King tooke him by the hand,
& said, "welcome into this land ! "
& asked 5 him what he hight.
1132 " Sir, my name is Tryamore ;
once you helpt me in a stowre
as a noble man of might ;
& now I am here in thy Land ;
1 136 soe was I neuer erst, as I vnderstand,
by god full of might."
Triamore
comes,
Arradas
welcomes
him,
and
Triamore
tells him
who he is.
1 wodde. — Cop.
2 The top of some letter over the a is
marked out in the MS. brake means
"cut up."— F.
3 shortely.— Cop.
4 There is a round blot like an u after
the r in the MS.— F.
5 axet. — Cop.
120
SIR TRIAMORE.
Arradas
is very glad,
and tells
Triamore
of the day
set for the
fight with the
Emperor's
champion.
when the ~King wist it was hee,
his hart reioced greatlye ;
1140 3 times he did downe fall,
& [said] " Tryamore, welcome to me !
great sorrowe & care I haue had x for thee ; "
and he told him al ;
1144 " with the Emperour I * tooke a day
[to] defend me if that I may ;
to Iesu I will call ;
for I neuer his sonne slew ;
1148 god he knoweth I speake hut true,
& helpe me I trust he shall ! "
Triamore
agrees to
fight for
Arradas,
then said Tryamore thoe, ["I am fulle woe 3 ]
that you for me haue beene greeued soe,
1152 if I might it amend ;
& att the day of battell
I trust to proue 4 my might as 5 well,
if god will grace me send."
of which the
latter is
glad.
1156 then was ~King Arradas very glad,
and of Marradas was not adread :
when he to the batteile shold wend,
he ioyed 6 that he shold well speed,
1 1 60 for Tryamore was warry 7 at neede
against his enemye to defend.
On the day
fixed, the
Emperor
there Tryamore dwelled with the ~King
many a weeke without lettinge ;
1164 he lacked right nought.
& when the day of battayle was came,
the Emperour with his men hasted full soone,
& manye wonder thought ;
1 Cop. omits had. — H.
2 MS. he.— F. 3 From Ca.-
• prome, in the MS.— F.
5 This word is blotted in the MS.— F.
6 joyed. — Cop.
7 ware. — Cop.
SIR TRIAMORE.
121
1168 he brought thither both King & Knight ;
& Marradas, that was of might,
to batteille he him brought,
there was many a seemelye man,
1172 moe then I tell you can ;
of them all he ne wrought.
both pa?-tyes that ilke day
into the feeld tooke the way,
1176 they were already i dight.
the King there kissed Tryamore,
& sayd, " I make thee mine [heyre 2 ] this hower,
& dubb thee a knight."
1 180 " Sir," said Tryamore, " take no dread ;
I trust Iesus will me speede,
for you be in the right ;
therfore through gods grace
1 184 I will fight for you in this place
with the helpe of our Lords might ! "
brings his
champion,
Marradas ;
the King
brings
Triamore,
who trusts
in Christ's
help.
both partyes were full swore
to hold the promise that was made before ;
1188 to Iesus can hee 3 call.
Sir Tryamore & Sir Marradas
both well armed was
amonge the Lords all ;
Eoth parties
swear to
abide by the
result.
1 192 eche of them were sett on steede ;
all men of Tryamore had dreede,
that was soe hind in all. 4
Marradas was stifie & sure, 5
1196 their 6 might noe man his stroake endure,
But that he made them fall.
Triamore
and
Marradas
[page 227]
' al redy. — Cop.
2 heyre. — Cop.
3 they. — Cop.
4 Ther was none so hynde in hallo. — Ca.
5 so styff in stoure. — Ca.
6 then.— Ca.
122
SIR TRIAMORE.
charge,
"break their
spears and
Bhields,
and fight
marvel-
lously.
Triamore
kills Mar-
radas's horse,
and then
offers him
his own.
Marradas
refuses it.
Both alight
then rode they together 1 full right ;
with sharpe speres & swords bright
1200 they smote together sore ;
the spent speres & brake sheelds,
the busied 2 fowle in middest the feelds,
either fomed as doth a bore.
1204 all the 3 wondred that beheld
how the fought in the feeld ;
there was but a liffe. 4
Marradas fared fyer 5 wood
1208 because Tryamore soe long stood ;
sore gan hee smite.
S/r Tryamore fay led of Marradas,
that sword lighted vpon his horsse,
1212 the sword to ground gan light.
Marradas said, " it is great shame
on a steed to wreake his game !
thou sholdest rather smite mee ! "
1216 Tryamore swore, "by gods might
I had leuer it had on thee liarht !
then I wold not be sorye 6 ;
" but here I giue thee steede mine
1220 because I haue slaine thine ;
by my will it shalbe soe."
Marradas sayd, " I will [him] nought
till I haue him with stroakes bought,"
1224 [and won him from my foe. 7 ]
& Tryamore lighted from his horsse,
& to Marradas straight he goes,
for both on foote they did light.
1 the logger. — Cop.
2 powsed. — Cop.
3 they. — Cop.
4 ? a life to be lost.— F. lyte (little).
-Cop.
5 fare. — Cop.
6 sore. — Cop.
7 ? ; a line is wanting in the MS. Cop.
has "And wonne hym here in fyght."
— F.
SIR TRIAMORE.
123
1228 Sir Tiyamore spared him nought,
[But evyr in his hert he thoght ! ]
"this day was I made a Knight ! "
& thought that hee himselfe wold be slaine soone,
1232 " or else of him I will win my shoone 2
throughe gods might."
the laid eche at other with, good will
with sharpe swords made of Steele ;
1236 that saw 3 many a knight.
great wonder it was to behold
the stroakes that was betwixt them soe bold ;
all men might it see.
1240 the were weary, & had soe greatlye bled;
Marradas was sore adread,
he fainted then greatlye ;
and fight on
foot
fiercely.
Marradas
grows faint.
& that Tryamore lightlye beheld,
1244 & fought feerclye in the feeld ;
he stroke Marradas soe sore
that the sword through the body ran.
then was the Emperour a sorry man ;
1248 he made thenn peace for ener-more ;
Triamore
kills him.
The
Emperor
he kissed the Kmg, & was his freind,
& tooke his leauee homewards to wend ;
noe longer there dwell wold hee.
1252 then Kmg Arradas & Tryamore
went to the palace wt'th great honor,
into that rych citye.
there was ioy without care,
1256 & all they had great welfare,
there might no better bee ;
kisses
Arradas,
and goes
home.
Arradas and
Triamore
return
to the city,
1 From Ca. — F. euer in hys herte he thought. — Cop.
2 See p. 77, 1. 504
sauce. — Cop.
124
SIR TRIAMORE.
hunt, ride,
and enjoy
themselves.
Arradas
offers to
make
Triamore his
heir,
but Triamore
declines, and
asks only a
steed;
he means to
do adven-
tures.
Arradas
gives him
money
and a fearless
steed,
they hunted & rode many a where,
full great pleasure they had there.
12C0 among the knights of price
the K.ing profered him full fayre,
& sayd, " Tryamore, He make thee mine heyre,
for thou art strong & wise."
1264 Sir Tryamore said, " Sir, trulye
into other countryes goe will I ;
I desire of you but a steed,
& to other lands will I goe
1268 some great aduentures for to doe,
thus will I my liffe lead."
the Kmg was verry sorry tho ;
when that hee wold from him goe,
1272 he gaue him a sure weede, 1
& plenty of siluer & gold,
& a steed as hee wold,
that nothing wold feare.
1276 hee tooke his leaue of the King,
And mourned at his departing, [page 228]
then hasted he him there ;
and promises
him all
his realm.
Triamore
rides to
Hungary.
the K»(j sayd, " Try amor ! that 2 is mine,
1280 when thou list it shall be thine,
all my kingdome lesse & more."
Now is Tryamore forth goe ;
Lords & ladyes were full woe, 3
1284 euerye man loued him there.
Tryamore rode in hast trulye
into the Land of Hungarye,
aduentures for to seeke. 4
1 steede is marked out in the MS.
2 whatever, all that. — F.
3 for him were woe. — Cop.
4 The Cambridge text sends him
generally everywhere before going to
Hungary. — F.
SIR TIUAMORE.
125
1288 betweene 2 mountaines, the sooth to say,
he rode forth on his way ;
w/'th a palmer he did meete ;
On his road
a palmer
he asked almes for gods sake,
1292 & Tryamore him not forgate,
he gaue him with words sweete.
the palmer said, " turne yee againe,
or else I feare you wilbe slaine ;
1296 you may not passe but you be beat."
warns him
to turn back
Tryamore asked "why soe ? "
"Sir," he said, "there be brethren towe
that on the mountaine dwells."
1300 " faith," said Tryamore, " if there be no more,
I trust in god that way to goe,
if this be true that thou tells."
he bade the palmer good day,
1304 & rode forth on his way
ouer heath & feelds ;
for fear of
two brothers
there.
Triamore
rides on,
the palmer prayed to him full fast,
Tryamore was not agast,
1308 he blew his home full shrill,
he had not rydden but a while,
not the Mountenance of a mile,
2 knights he saw on a hill :
and soon
meets
two knights,
1312 the one of them to him gan ryde,
they other still gan abyde
a litle there beside.
& when the did Tryamore spye,
1316 the said, " turne thee tray tor, 1 or thou shalt dye,
therfore stand & abyde ! "
who order
him to go
back.
' traytor turne. — Cop.
126
SIR TRIAMOKE.
One charges
him,
the other
either againe other l gan ryd fast,
theire strokes mad their speres to brast,
1320 & made them wounds full wyde.
the other "knight that honed 2 soe,
wondred that Tryamore dared soe :
he rode to them that tyde
separates
them,
asks
Triamore
his name,
1324 & departed them in twaine,
& to speake fayre he began to frame
wt'th words that sounded well :
to Tryamore he 3 sayd anon,
1328 "a doughtyer K^night I neuer saw none ! 4
thy name that thou vs tell."
Tryamore said, " first will I wett
why that you doe keepe this street,
1332 & where that you doe dwell."
and says
that their
brother
Marradas
was slain by
one
Triamore,
1336
the said, " wee had a brother hight Marradas,
with the Emperour forsooth he was,
a stronge man well I-know. 5
in Arragon, before the Emperour,
a knight called S/r Tryamore
in battel there him slew 6 ;
and their
elder brother
Burlong
" & alsoe wee say another,
1340 Burlong 7 our elder brother,
as a man of much might ;
he hath beseeged soothlye
the Kings daughter of Hungarte ;
1344 to wed her he hath height ;
'■ other than. — Cop. tyd has a tag at
the end. — F.
2 hoved, i.e. hoVered on the hill, qu. —
P. ltovid is common in the sense of
halted. — F.
3 they. — Cop.
4 so doughty a knight knowo 1 none.
—Cop.
5 y-nough (enough). — Ca.
6 There is something like another r
before the w in the MS. — F.
7 Burlonde. — Ca.
SIR TRIAMORE.
127
1.348
" & soe well liee hath sped
that hee shall that Lady wedd
but sliee may find a Knight
that Burlongb ouercome may ;
to that they haue tooke a day,
wage battel & fight ;
is to wed
Queen Helen
of Hungary
Tin less she
can find a
knight to
beat him,
" for that same Tryamore
1352 loued that Ladye paramoure,
as it is before told ;
if he will to Hungarye,
needs must he come vs by ;
1356 to meete with him wee wold."
and she is
Triamore's
love.
[page 229]
They'd like
to catch him.
1360
Tryamore said, " I say not nay,
but my name I will tell this day,
in faith I will not Laine :
thinke jour Iourney well besett,
for with Tryamore you haue mett
that jour brother hath slaine."
Triamorc
says
"here he is. !
" welcome ! " the said, " Tryamore !
1364 his death shalt thou repent sore ;
thy sorrow shall begin,
yeeld thee to vs anon,
for thou shalt not from vs gone
1368 by noe manner of gin. 1 "
They call on
him to yield.
1372
the smote feircly att him tho,
& Tryamore against them 2
without more delay.
Si'r Tryamore proued him full prest,
he brake their spere on their brest,
hee had such assay ;
He fights
them,
1 gynne. — Cop. wile. — F.
l -js
SIR TRIAMORE.
they split
his shield
and kill his
horse,
but he slays
one of them.
his sheeld was broken in peeces 3,
1376 bis borsse was smitten on bis knee,
soe bard att bim the tbrust. 1
Sir Tryamore was tben rigbt wood,
& slew tbe one tbere as be stood
1380 wz'tb bis sword full prest.
The other
rides at him,
but Tria-
more kills
him too.
that otber rode bis way,
bis hart was in great affray,
yet he turned againe that tide, —
1384 when Tryamore had slainc his brother,
a sorry man then was the other, —
& straight againe to him did rydde ;
then they 2 sore foughte
1388 that the other to the ground was brought
then were the both slaine.
Helen
wonders
where
Triamore is.
The day to
win her is
come ;
tho the Ladye on Tryamore thought,
for of him shee knew right nought,
1392 shee wist not what to say.
the day was come that was sett,
the Lords assembled without lett,
all in good array.
Burlong
calls for her
knight.
She has
none.
1396 Burlonge was redye dight,
he bade the Lady send the 'Knight.
shee answered "Ine may : "
for in that castle shee had hight
1400 to keepe her with all her might,
as the story doth say.
the said, " if Tryamore be aliue,
hither 2 will hee come blithe ;
1404 god send vs good grace to speed ! "
thrast. — Cop.
2 MS. either.— F.
SIR TRIAMORE.
129
w/th that came in Sir Tryamore
in the thickest of that stower,
into the feild without dread.
1408 he asked 'what all that did meanc.'
the people shewed that a battel there shold beenc
for the loue of that Ladye.
he saw Burlong on his steede,
1412 & straight to him he yeede ;
that Ladye challengeth hee.
But just
then
Triamore
rides into
the field,
goes straight
to Burloi g,
Burlong asked him if he wold fight.
Tryamore said, " with, all [my] might
1416 to slay thee, or thon me."
anon the made them readye,
& none there knew him sikerlye,
the wondred what he shold bee.
and says "he'll
figlit him.
1420 high on a tower stood that good Ladye ;
shee knew not what Knight verelye
that with Burlong did fight,
fast shee asked of her men
1424 ' if ^at Knight they cold ken
that to battell was clight ;
Helen
docs not
know him ;
' a griffon he beareth all of blew.' l
a herald of armes soone him 2 knew,
1428 & said anon-right,
" Madame ! god hath sent you succor ;
for yonder is Tryamore
That With Burlong will fight."
1432 to Iesus gan the Ladye pray
for to speed him on his Iourney
that hee about yeed.
1 1 ngc 230]
but a herald
recognises
his crest,
and tells her
it is
Triamore.
She prays for
his success.
1 A kreste he boryth in blewe. — Ca.
VOL. TT. K
2 Syr Barnarde.— Ca,
130
SIR TRIAMORE.
Triaruore
and Burlong
fight
for a long
while,
till Triamore
loses his
sword.
then those "Knights ran together,
1436 the speres in peeces gan shiner,
the fonght full sore indeed ;
there was noe man in the feild tho
who shold hane the better of them tow,
1440 soe mightilye they did them beare.
the Battel lasted wonderous long ;
though Burlong was neuer soe stronge,
there found he his peere.
1444 Tryamore a stroke to him mint, 1
his sword fell downe at that dint
out of his hand him froe.
then was Burlong verry 2 glad,
1448 & the Ladye was verry sad,
& many more full woe.
He asks for
it,
and Burlong
agrees to
give it him
if he'll tell
his name.
Triamore
tells him.
Tryamore asked his sword againe,
but Burlong gan him frame
1452 to know first his name ;
& said, " tell me first what thou hight,
& why thou challengeth the Ladye bright,
then shalt thou haue thy sword againe."
1456 Tryamore sayd, " soe mote I thee,
My name I will tell trulye,
therof I will not doubt ;
men call me Sir Tryamore,
1460 I wan this Ladye in a stowre
among Barrons stout."
Burlong
reproaches
him with
killing
Marradas
then said Burlong, "thou it was
that slew my brother Marradas !
1464 a faire 3 hap thee befell ! "
1 mynt. — Cop. minded, meant, intended. — R
2 wonder. — Cop. 3 ? fowle. — F.
SIR TRIAMORE.
131
S/r Tryamore sayd to hini tho,
" soe haue I done thy Brethren 2
that on the Mountaines did dwell."
1408 Burlong said, " woe may thon bee,
for thon hast slaine my brethren 3 !
sorrow hast thon sought !
thy sword getts thon neuer againe
1472 till I be avenged, & thon slaine ;
now I am well bethought ! "
and his other
brothers,
and refuses
to let him
have his
sword.
S/r Tryamore sayd, " noe force l tho,
thou shalt repent it ere thou goe ;
1476 doe forth ! I dread thee nought !
Burlong to smite was readye bowne,
his feete slipt, 2 & hee fell downe,
& Tryamore right well nought, 3
Burlong
makes ready
to strike ; his
foot slips,
and he falls.
1 480 his sword lightlye he vp hent,
& to Burlonge fast he went ;
for nothing wold he flee ;
& as he wold haue risen againe,
1484 he smote his leggs euen in twaine
hard fast by the knee.
Triamore
gets his
sword again,
cuts big
Burlong off
at the knees,
Tryamore bade him "stand vpright,
& all men may see now in fight
1488 wee beene meete of a size."
Sir Tryamore suffered him
to take another weapon,
as a knight of much prize.
to make him
his equal in
height,
and lets him
get a sword.
1492 Burlong on his stumpes stood
as a man tltat was nye wood,
& fousrht wonderous hard. 4
Burlong
fights well
on his
stumps,
1 matter. — F.
2 his fote schett. — Ca.
3 wylyly wrought. — Ca.
4 wonder faste. — Cop.
k 2
wrought. — Cop.
132
SIR TRIAMORE.
& Sir Tryamore strake stroakes sure,
1496 for lie cold well endure ;
of him hee was not affrayd,
but
Triamore
cuts his head
off,
1500
& vnder his ventale
his head he smote of without fayle ;
with that in peeces his sword brast.
and goes to
his love.
Helen
1504
Now is Burlong slaine,
& Triamore with maine
into the Castle went,
to the Ladye that was full bright ;
& att the gates shee mett the ILnight,
& in her armes shee him hent.
welcomes
him.
The barons
agree to hold
their lands
of him,
Shee said, " welcome sir Tryamore !
1508 for you haue bought my loue full deere,
my hart is on you lent! ' ;
then said all the Barrons bold,
" of him wee will our lands hold ; "
1512 & therto they did assent.
[page 231]
and the
wedding-day
is fixed.
Triamore 1516
sends for his
mother,
there is noe more to say,
but they haue taken a certaine day
that they both shalbe wed.
Sir Tryamore for his mother sent,
a Messenger for her went,
& into the castle he[r] led.
and she
tells him
that King
Arradas is
his father,
Tryamore to his mother gan saine,
1520 " my father I wold know faine,
sith I haue soe well sped."
shee said, " ~K.ing Array das of Arragon,
is thy father, & thou his owne sonne ;
1524 I was his wedded Queene ;
Sill TRIAMORE.
13:
1528
" a leasing was borne nie in hand, 1
& falsely fleamed me out of his land
by a traitor Keene,
Sir Marrockee the hight 2 : he did me woe,
& Sir Rodger my knight he did sloe,
that my guide 3 shold haue beene."
that she was
banished
wrongful^',
through Sir
Marrock.
& when that Tryamore all heard, 4
1532 & how his mother shee had 5 sayd,
letters he made & wrought;
he prayd ~K.inrj Arradas to come him till,
if that it were his will,
153G thus he him besought :
Triamore
writes and
begs
Arradas
1540
' if hee will come into Hungarye
for his Manho od & his Masterye,
& that he wold fayle in nought.'
then was "Kmg Arradas verry glad ;
the Messengers great guifts had
for they tydings that they brought.
to come to
Hungary.
the clay was come that was- sett,
1544 the hords came thither without let,
& ladyes of great pryde ;
then wold they noe longer lett ;
shortlye after 6 they are fett,
1548 with 2 dukes on eueiye side ;
On the
wedding-
day,
1552
they lady to the church the led ;
a Bishopp them together did wed,
in full great hast the hyed.
soone after that weddingo
Sir Tryamore was crowned Kmg,
they wold noe longer abyde.
Queen Helen
is married to
Triamore,
who is then
crowned
king.
1 forced on me. — F.
2 ? the wight.— F.
3 pyder. — Cop.
1 herde. — Cop.
•' lo him. — Cop.
" after forthc.— Cop.
134
SIR TRIAMOEE.
Arradas sees
Margaret,
and asks her
what her
name is.
She says she
was his
qneen, and
Marrock
defamed her.
After dinner
she tells him
all her
history.
the Queene, his mother Margarett,
1556 before the King shee was sett
in a goodlye cheare. 1
King Arradas beheld his Queene,
him thought that hee had her seenc,
15G0 shee was a ladye fayre ;
the King said, " it is jouy will
jouy name me for to tell,
I pray you with words fayre."
1564 " my Lord," sayd [she,] "I was jouy Queene
yo«r steward did me ill 2 teene ;
that euill might him befalle ! "
the King spake noe more words
1568 till the clothes were drawen from the bords,
& men rose in the hall.
& by the hand he tooke the Queene gent ;
soe in the chamber forth he went,
1572 & there shee told him all.
They kiss,
and all
rejoice.
Helen is
glad too,
and both
couples live
long and
happily.
then was there great Ioy & blisse !
when they together gan kisse,
then all they companye made Ioy enough.
1576 the younge Queene [was] full glad
that shee a Kings Sonne to her Lord had,
shee was glad, I trowe ;
in Ioy together lead their liffe
1580 all their dayes without striffe,
& liued many a fayre yeere.
Then king Arradas & his Queene
had ioy enough them betweene,
1584 & merrilye 3 liued together.
[page 202]
1 For the preceding half-stanza the
Cambridge text has a whole one :
Ye may welle wete certeynly
That there was a great mangory,
There as so many wf re mett :
Qwene Margaret began the deyse ;
Kyng Ardus wyth-owtyn lees,
Be hur was he sett. — F.
mckyll.-
merely.-
-Cop.
-Cop.
Sill TEIAMORE.
135
& thus wee leatie of Tryamore
that lined long in great honor
with the fayre Hellene. 1
1588 I pray god giue their sonles good rest,
& all that haue heard this litle lest, 2
highe heanen for to win !
god grant vs all to haue that grace,
1592 him for to see in the celestyall place I
I pray you all to say Amen !
ffillS. 3
Good bye,
Triamorc !
God send all
my hearers
to heaven !
Amen!
Elyne. — Cop.
Gest. P.C.— P. gest.— Cop.
Copland's colophon is, " d
Im-
printed at London in Tenies strete vpo«
the thro Crane wharfe. By Wyllyam
Copland."— F.
130
Guy jour-
neys in the
Holy Land,
[See the General Introduction to the Guy Poems, under Guy § Colebrande below.]
IJUYE : iourneyed ore the sanctifyed ground
wheras the Iewes fayre citye soineti[me] stood,
wherin our saviours sacred head was crowned,
& where for sinfull man he shed his blood.
to see the sepulcher was his intent,
the tombe that Ioseph vnto Iesus lent.
With tedious miles he tyred his wearye feet,
& passed desarts places 2 full of danger;
att last with a most woefull wight did meet,
a man 3 that vnto sorrow was noe stranger,
for he had 15 sonnes made captiues all
to slauish 4 bondage, in extremest thrall.
and meets
a woeful
man,
whose fifteen
sons are held
in bondage
by
the giant
Amarant.
Guy under-
takes to free
them,
and knocks
loudly at the
giant's door.
12
A gyant called Amarant detained them,
whom noe man durst encounter for his strenght,
who, in a castle w7w'ch he held, had chaind them.
16 Guy questions w[h]ere, 5 & vnderstands at lenght
the place not farr. " lend me thy sword," quoth. Guy ;
" He lend my manhood all thy sonnes to free."
With that he goes & layes vpon the dore
20 like one, he sayes, that must & will come in.
the Gyant, he was neere soe rowzed before,
1 By the elegance of Language &
easy Flow of the versification, this Poem
should be more modern than the rest.
- — P. The first bombastic rhodomontade
affair in the book. Certainly modern,
and certainly bad, as bad as it well can
be, if it was meant seriously. One is
tempted in charity to think it a quiz of
the style it affects. Cp. st. 31, "but
did not promise you they should be fatt."
1. 186.— F. 2 desart-p[laces].— P.
3 called Erie Jonas, p. 253 [of MS.
torn out for King Estmere], — P.
4 There are two strokes in MS. after
the u, one is dotted. — F.
5 where. — P.
GUYE AND AMAllANT.
137
24
for noe such knocking at his gate had beene ;
soc takes his keyes & club, & goeth out,
Staring with irefdll countenance about :
Amarant
comes fortli,;
28
" Sirra ! " sais hee, " what busines hast thou heere ?
art come to feast my crowes about the walls l ?
didst 2 neuer heare noe ransome cold him cleere
that in the compas of my furye falls 3 ?
for making me to take a porters paines,
with this same club I will dash out thy braines."
and saya
he'll dash
Guy's brains
out.
32
Of")
" Gyant," saies Guy, "yo^r quarrelsome, I see ;
choller & you are something neere of Kin ;
dangerous at a club be-like you bee ;
I haue beene better armed, though now goe th[in.]
but shew thy vtmost hate, enlarge thy spite !
heere is the wepon that must doe me right."
Guy answers
that his
sword will
right him,
40
Soe takes his sword, salutes [him 4 ] with the same
about the head, the shoulders, & the sides,
whilest his erected club doth death proclaime,
standing with huge Collossous spacious strydes,
putting such vigor to his knotted beame
that like a furnace he did smoke extreme.
anil attacks
the giant,
who strikes
fierce
strokes,
But on the ground he spent his stroakes in yaine,
44 for Guy was nimble to avoyde them still,
& ere he cold recouers 5 clubb againe,
did beate his plated coate against his will :
att such aduantage Guy wold neuer fayle
48 to beate him soundly in his coate of Mayle.
which Guy
avoids,
and hacks at
the giant.
1 wall.— P.
2 ? MS. didest or the e has been altered
into part of the s.^F.
3 fall.— P.
4 him with. — P.
5 There's an apostrophe in recent ink
over the s in the MS. — F.
138
GUYE AND AMARANT.
Amarant
grows faint,
and asks
Guy to let
him drink at
a spring.
Guy gives
him leave.
Att last through strength, Amarant l feeble grew,
& said to Guy, " as thou art of humane race,
shew itt in this, giuee nature 2 wants her dew ;
52 let me but goe & drinke in younder place ;
thou canst not yeeld to 3 [me] a smaller thing
then to grant life thats giuen by the spring."
" I giue the leaue," sayes Guy, " goe drinke thy 4
56 to pledge the dragon & the savage beare, 5
suceed the tragedyes that they haue past ;
but neuer thinke to drinke 6 cold water more 7 ;
drinke deepe to death, & after that carrouse
60 bid him receiue thee in his earthen house."
Amarant
drinks so
greedily
Soe to the spring he goes, & slakes his thirst,
takeing in 8 the water in, extremly like
Some wracked shipp that on some rocke is burst, [p. 2.33]
64 whose forced bulke against the stones doe stryke ;
Scoping it in soe fast with both his hands
that Guy, admiring, to behold him stands.
" Come on," qitoth Guy, " lets to our worke againe ;
68 thou stayest about thy liquor ouer longe ;
the fish w/tich in the riuer doe remaine
will want thereby ; thy ° drinking doth them
wrong ;
but I will [have] their 10 satisfaction made ;
72 with gyants blood the must & shall be payd ! "
The giant " Villaine," quoth. Amarant, " He crush thee straight !
thy life shall pay thy daring toungs offence !
this club, ■which, is about some hundred waight,
that Giry
wonders.
He calls on
Amarant to
fight again.
1 the strength of A : or thro' lacke
of strength he. — P. This circumstance
seems borrowed from song 104. p. 349,
[of MS. Guy $ Colebrande].—P.
2 An 's has been added by P. in the
MS.— P.
3 unto. — P.
4 One stroke too many for thy in tiic
MS.— P.
5 boar. Qu. — P.
6 Only half the n in the MS.— P.
7 here, Qu., or mair. — P.
8 delend. — P.
9 MS. their.— F. thy.— P.
10 have their. — P.
GUYE AND AMAKANT.
139
76 lias deatlies commission to dispactk ! tliee hence !
dresse thee for Rauens dyett, I must needs,
& breake thy bones as they were made of reeds ! '
says he'll
break <iuy'.<
bones.
Incensed much att 2 this bold Pagans bosts,
80 which worthy Guy cold ill endure to heare,
he hewes vpon those bigg supporting postes
which like 2 pillars did his body beare.
Amarant for those wounds in choller groweSj
84 & desperatelye att guy his club he throwes,
Which did directly e on his body light
soe heauy & soe weaghtye 3 there wrthall,
that downe to ground on sudden came the JLnight ;
88 & ere he cold recouer from his fall,
the gyant gott his club againe in his fist,
& stroke a blow that wonderfullye mist.
" Traytor ! " qtioth Guy, " thy falshood lie repay,
92 this coward art to intercept my bloode."
sayes Amarant, " He murther any way ;
with enemyes, all vantages are good ;
o ! cold I poyson hi thy nostrills blowe,
96 be sure of it, I wold destroy the soe ! "
" Its well," said Guy, " thy honest thoughts appear
within that beastlye bulke where devills dwell,
which are thy tennants while thou liuest heere,
100 but wilbe landlords when thou comest in hell.
Vile miscreant ! prepare thee for their den !
Inhumane monster, hurtfull vnto men !
Guy hews
away at
Amarant's
legs;
he throws his
club at Guy,
and knocks
him down.
Guy re-
proaches
him for
fightinfr
unfairly,
" But breath thy selfe a time while I goo drinke,
104 for flameing Pheabus with his fyeryc eye
torments me soe with burning heat, I thinke
1 1' i .i i
have to
drink.
1 Here again is the cthiov tch, noticed
iu vol. i. p. 23, note '. — F.
2 MS. all.— - F. attthis.-
3 weightye. — P.
140
GUYE AND AMARANT.
A mar ant
refuses : he
is not such a
fool
my thirst wold serue to drinke an Ocean drye.
forbear a litle, as I delt with, thee."
108 Quoth. Amarant, " thou hast noe foole of mee !
" Noe ! sillye wretch ! my father taught more ■
how I shold vse such enemyes as thou,
by all my gods ! I doe reioyce at itt,
112 to vnderstand that thirst constraines thee now;
for all the treasure that the world containes,
one drop of water shall not coole thy vaynes.
as 1" refresh
his foe.
Amarant
swings his
club round,
" Releeue my foe ! why, twere a madmans part !
116 refresh an aduersarye, to my wronge !
if thou imagine this, a child thou art.
no, fellow ! I haue knowne the world to longe
to be soe simple now I know thy want ;
120 a Minutes space to thee I will not grant."
And with these words, heauing a-loft his club
into the ayre, he swinges the same about,
then shakes his lockes, & doth his temples rubb,
124 & like the Cyclops in his pride doth strout 2 ;
" Sirra," said hee, " I haue you at a lifte ;
now you are come vnto jotir latest shift ;
and promises
to kill Guy
and drink
his blood.
Guy abuses
the giant,
" Perish for euer with this stroke I send thee,
128 a Medcine will doe thy thirst much good ;
take noe more care of drinke before I end thee,
& then weelle haue carowses of thy blood !
heeres at thee with a buchers downe-right blow,
132 to please my fury with thine ouerthrow ! "
" Infe[r]nall, false, obdurat feend ! " Guy said, 2
" that seemes a lumpe of cruel tye from hell !
ingratefull monster ! since thou hast denyd 3
1 Strowt yn, or bocyn owte (bowtyn,
S.) Turgco, Catholicon, Prompt. — F.
2 cryd ; [or] perhaps, ' said Guy.' — P
3 dost deny. — P.
GUYE AND AMARANT.
141
136 the thing to mee wherin I vsecl thee [well, 1 ]
with more reuenge then ere my sword did make,
On thy accursed head revenge lie take ! [ page 234]
140
144
" Thy gyants longitnde shall shorter shrinke,
except thy sunscorcht sckin doe weapon proue. 2
farwell my thirst ! I doe disdaine to drinke.
bids the
streams keep
their waters
for them-
streames, keepe you[r] waters to you[r] owne selves,
behoues, 3
or let wild beasts be welcome thernnto ;
with those pearle dropps I will not hane to doe.
" Hold, tyrant ! take a tast of my good will ;
for thus I doe begin my bloody e bout ;
you cannot chuse but like the greeting ill, —
148 it is not that same club will beare you out,—
& take this payment ou thy shaggye crowne,"
a blow that brought him with, a vengeance
dow[ne].
strikes
Amarant,
fetches him
down,
Then Guy sett foot vpon the monsters brest,
152 & from his shoulders did his head devyde,
which with a yawninge mouth did gape vnblest,-
noe dragons Iawes were euer seene soe wyde
to open & to shut, — till liffe was spent.
156 soe Guy tooke Keyes, & to the castle went,
cuts off his
head,
160
Where manye woefull captiues he did find,
which had beene tyred with extremity e,
whom he in ffreindly manner did vnbind,
& reasoned with them of their miserye.
eche told a tale with teares & sighes & cryes,
all weeping to him with complainning eyes.
sets free his
captives,—
well.— P.
2 be weapon-proof. — P.
3 behoof.— P,
142
GDYE AND AMARANT.
some, ladies
who had
been fed on
their dead
lovers and
husbands, —
and the
palmer's
fifteen sons,
who were
like the
pictures of
Death.
Guy restores
the palmer
his sons,
164
1G8
172
176
180
184
gives him
the giant's
castle, * '
There tender Lai dyes in darke dungeon 1 lay,
that were surprised in the desart wood,
& had noe other dyett euerye day
then flesh of humane creatures for their food ;
some with their louers bodyes had beene fed,
& in their wombes 2 their husbands buryed.
Now he bethinkes him of his being there,
to enlarge they 3 wronged Brethren from 4 their
w[oes ;]
& as he searcheth, doth great clamors heare;
by which sad sounds direction, on he goes
vntill he findes a darkesome obscure gate,
armed strongly ouer all with Iron plate :
That 5 he vnlockes, and enters where appeares
the strangest obiect that he euer saw,
men that with famishment of many yeerres
will 6 were like deaths picture, which the painters
dra[w ;]
diuers of them were hanged by eche thumbe ;
others, head downeward ; by the middle, summe. 7
With dilligence he takes them from the walls,
With lybertye their thraldome to accquainte.
then the perplexed ~K.night the father calls,
& sayes, " receiue thy sonnes, thoe poore & faint !
I promised you their Hues ; eccept of that 8 ;
but did not promise you the shold be fatt.
" The castle I doe giue thee, — heere is the Keyes, —
where tyranye for many yeeres did dwell ;
procure the gentle tender Ladyes ease ;
1 Only half of the first n in the MS.
— F.
2 ? MS. wombers.— F.
3 the.— P.
4 There is something like a blotched o
before the r in tho MS. — F.
5 Then.— P.
6 delend. — P.
7 some. — P. The e, and last stroke of
the m, have been cut off by the binder.
— F.
8 accept of that. — P.
GUYE AND AMARANT.
143
for pittye sake vse wronged -women well !
men may easilye revenge the deeds men doe,
192 but poore weake women haue no strenght therto."
ami charges
him to use
the women
well.
19G
The good old man, enen ouerioyed -with tins,
fell on the ground, & wold haue kist Guys fee[t.]
"father," quoth, hee, " refraine soe base a kisse !
for age to honor youth, I hold vnmeete ;
ambitious pryd hath hurt me all it can,
T goe to mortifie a sinfull man." ffins.
Guy refuses
to let the
palmer kiss
his feet.
144
The allusions in these lines are principally to well-known
incidents in the reign of Charles I., most of which occurred
between 1625 and 1630.
" Cales," of course, means " Cadiz ; " and the expeditions of
Viscount Wimbledon to that place in 1625, of the Duke of
Buckingham to Ehe in 1627, and of the Earl of Denbigh to
Eochelle in 1628 — all failures — are commemorated in lines 1, 2,
and 3. Line 4 alludes to the grant of five subsidies made on
the concession of the Petition of Eight ; lines 6, 8, and 9, refer
to the death of Buckingham. The peace with Spain, mentioned
in line 7, was proclaimed on the 5th of December, 1630. Lines 9
to 12 commemorate the recent passing of the Petition of Eight,
which took place on the 5th of June, 1628. Of lines 17 to 24 I
take the meaning to be : " Do not meddle with the hierarchy for
fear of the Inquisition, that is, the Star Chamber, where thou
shalt find a crop-ear doom, cries Leighton." The allusion is to the
dreadful sentence inflicted on Dr. Alexander Leighton, a portion
of which was that he should have " one of his ears cut off, and
his nose slit, and be branded in the face." (State Trials, vol. iii.
p. 385.)
Line 25 alludes to the King's commission for extracting fines
from those who, having 401. a year in lands, did not attend at the
coronation to be knighted. Lines 26 to 30 refer to the case of
Walter Long, sheriff of Wilts, who was fined 2,000 marks for
absenting himself from his county to attend his duty in parlia-
ment. (State Trials, vol. iii. p. 235.)
1 A kind of State Satire on the abuses in Charles I s .* time — very obscure. — P.
CALES VOYAGE. 145
Lines 33 to 37 relate to a speech of Sir Dudley Carleton in the
House of Commons in 1628, in which he warned the House of
the fate of parliaments in foreign countries, where they had been
overthrown by monarchs as soon as they began to know their
own strength. Hence, he continued, the misery of the people on
the continent, who look like ghosts and not men, being nothing
but skin and bones, with some thin cover to their nakedness, and
wearing only wooden shoes on their feet. Rushvorth, vol. i.
p. 359. Whitelocke substitutes " canvas clothes " for the thin
covering, p. 6. Both agree in the wooden shoes.
The allusion in the closing lines, 39 and 40, is to the Lord
Chief Justice Tresilian, in the reign of Richard II. He was one
of that King's evil advisers, was impeached by parliament, found
guilty of treason, and hanged at Tyburn l — which may be said to
be the moral of this poem. J. Bruce.
ATT cales wee latelye made afray, WeVe been
att He of Ree 2 wee run away, rfghfatd
our shippes poore Rochell did betray. left '
4 5 subsiddyes for that, but g i ve us
five subsidies
And then wee shall to sea againe, and we'll
all that 3 our generall was slaine,
& now wee haue made peace with spaine,
8 Iacke ffellton !
S*'r Artigall grand Torto * slew ; [page 235]
now euerye man must have his dew
Ws've a. new
by vertue of a gracious new Petit on of
12 Petition of right. what'a
blessing
1 See Political Poems and Songs, eel. de la Rochelle." Paris, 1629. — F.
Wright, vol. i. p. 423, 460. 3 Altho' or Albeit.— P.
2 See Marc Lescarbot's " La chasse * See Spencer's Fairy Queen. — P.
aux Anglois en l'Isle de Kez et au Siege
VOL. II. L
146
CALES VOYAGE.
Don't talk
of Pope
John's
children,
or the
Inquisition
will catch,
hold of you.
Don't leave
your county
when you're
Sheriff.
Be dutiful,
or else you'll
turn French-
men, and
have to wear
wooden
shoes.
The child of honor did deffye
In mortall fight his enemye,
& when he came to doe him dye,
16 cryes Sail : Brooke.
Eleuen children had Pope Iohn,
Pope Iohn the twelft, an able man ;
heeres to the daffe, He pledge the don,
20 A pulpitt of sacke !
Nbe more of that, doe not presume,
ffor ffeare of the Inquisition at Rome,
where thou shalt find a cropeare dome,
24 Cryes Layston.
Ten poundes for not being made a K.niyht ;
fiiue thousand Markes was deemed right
for being out of his countryes sight
28 In time o Shreaualltrye.
These & such like, as I you tell,
In fayrye land latelye befell,
where Iustice Sought with Iustice Cell
32 Att Gloster.
Be dutifull, good people all,
the gouerment else alter shall,
& bring you to the state of Graule,
36 Haire shirts & woodden shooes !
Hang bad
counsellers.
Noe habeas corpus shall be gott ;
but for all this damned plott
Tresilian went vnto the pott
40 Att Tyburne ! fins.
i -i;
lunge $c JHtlle r : !
This copy is given in the Reliques " with corrections," and
" collated with an old black-letter copy in the Pepys Collection
intitled ' A pleasant ballad of K. Henry II. and the Miller of
Mansfield.' ' "There are copies of this ballad," says Mr. Chappell,
who prints the tune, "in the Koxburghe Collection, vol. i. p. 178,
and p. 228 ; in the Bag-ford p. 25."
" It has been a favourite subject," says Percy, " with our
English ballad-makers to represent our kings conversing, either
by accident or design, with the meanest of their subjects. Of
the former kind, besides this song of the King and the Miller,
we have ' K. Henry and the Soldier,' ' K. James I. and the
Tinker,' ' K. William III. and the Forester ' &c. Of the latter
sort are ' K. Alfred and the Shepherd,' ' K. Edward IV. and
the Tanner,' < K. Henry VII. and the Cobbler ' &c."
" The earliest of these stories," says Professor Child in his
Introduction to King Edward Fourth and the Tanner of Tarn-
worth, " seems to be that of King Alfred and the Neatherd, in
which the herdsman's wife plays the offending part and the
peasant himself is made Bishop of Winchester. Others of a
very considerable antiquity are the tales of Henry II. and the
Cistercian Abbot in the Speculum Ecclesice of Griraldus Cambren-
sis (an. 1220) printed in Reliquice Antiques i. 147; King
Edward and the Shepherd, and The King [Edward] and the
Hermit in Hartshorne's Metrical Tales (p. 35. p. 293, the latter
previously in The British Bibliographer iv. 81); Rauf Coilzear,
1 In the printed Collect/on of Old Ballads, 1727, Vol. i. p. 53. No. VIII.— P.
l 2
148
KINGE AND MILLER.
how he harbreit King Charles in Laing's Select Remains ; John
de Reeve .... and the King and the Barker, the original of
the present ballad."
The idea of majesty compelled, or condescending to fraternise
with low life has in foreign countries, too, excited the vulgar
imagination. Such meetings of extremes — the fellowships of a
power so high with a thing so low — have proved extremely fasci-
nating. And while the stories of them show how tremendous was
the interval between the king and his poor subjects, they show also
how friendly was the popular conception of royalty. The king
was far, far off; but he was kindly and genial. He could be
imagined descending from his supreme height, and enjoying the
humours of the humblest and vulgarest. Such descents were a
kind of Avatars, which the people rejoiced to remember and
celebrate. They served to kindle and fan their lo} T al affection ;
to bind the king and people, as showing that he was a man of
like passions with themselves, not an alien unsympathetic being,
scarcely human.
King Henry
will go a
hunting.
Hawk and
hound are
•let go.
iiENEIlY, our royall B«(/, wold goe a huntinge
to the greene fforrest soe pleasant & fayre,
to haue the harts chased, the daintye does tripping ;
to merry Sherwood his nobles repayre ;
hauke & hound was vnbound, all things prepared
for the same to the game with good regard.
The King
hunts all
da}-,
and at night
loses himself
in the wood.
12
All a longe summers day rode the ~King pleasantly e
with all his princes & nobles eche one,
chasing the hart & hind & the bucke gallantly e,
till the darke euening inforced them turne home.
then at last, ryding fast, he had lost quite
all his Lords in the wood in the darke night.
RINGE AND MILLER. 119
3
Wandering thus wearilye all alone vp & downe,
with a rude Miller he mett att the Last, 5?., meeta a
7 Miller,
asking the ready way vnto fay re Nottingham. way^Not!
16 " Sir," Quoth, the Miller, " I meane not to lest, Thf MiTier
yett I thinke what I thinke truth for to say,
you doe not lightly e goe out of jour way."
4
"Why, what dost thou thinke of me?" Qwoth our
King merrily,
20 "passing thy iudgment vpon l me soe breefe."
"good faith," Quoth the Miller, "I meane 2 not to
natter thee, takes the
" I gesse thee to bee some gentleman theefe ; thief,
stand thee backe in the darke ! light not adowne, threatens to
crack his
24 lest I presentlye cracke thy knaues cro[wn]e ! " crown.
5
" Thou doest abuse me much," quoth, our King,
" saying thus.
I am a gentleman, and lodging doe lacke."
"thou hast not," quoth, the Miller, " a groat in thy sayshe-sa
» T- e ./ gentleman
pursse . who wants
28 all thine inheritance hanges on thy backe."
" I haue gold to discharge for that I call ;
and can pay
if itt be 40 pence, I will pay all." f °r it-
6
" If thou beest a true man," then said the Miller, T £ e M " ler
' offers to
32 " I sweare by my tole dish He lodge thee all night." lod s ehim >
" Heeres my hand," quoth our King, "that was I [page 236]
euer."
"nay, soft," qztoth the Miller, "thou mayst be a
sprite ;
better He know thee ere hands I will shake ; but , t
36 with none but honest men hands will I take." SMS**
' MS. vpom.— F. 2 Only half the n in the MS.— F.
150
KINGE AND MILLER,
They go into
the Miller's
smoky house,
40
Thus they went all alonge into the Millers house,
where they were seeding * of puddings & souce. 2
the Miller first entered in, then after went the King ;
neuer came he in soe smoakye a house. 3
" now," quoth hee, "let me see heere what you are."
Quoth, our King, "looke you[r] fill, & doe not spare."
44
and the wife
asks if the
King is a
runaway.
Where is his
passport ?
48
" I like well thy countenance ; thou hast an honest
fac[e] ;
with my sonne Richard this night thou shalt Lye."
Qtioth his wiffe, " by my troth it is a good hansome
yout[h] ;
yet it is best, husband, to deale warrilye.
art thou not a runaway ? I pray thee, youth, tell ;
show vs thy pasport & all shalbe well."
He has none,
as he is a
ccurtier.
The Miller
thinks the
King behaves
well to his
betters,
Then our King presentlye, making lowe curtesie,
with his hatt in his hand, this he did say :
" I haue noe pasport, nor neuer was seruitor,
52 but a poore Courtyer rode out of the way ;
& for jouv kindnesse now offered to me,
I will requite it in euerye degree."
10
Then to the Miller his wiffe whisperd secretlye,
56 saing, " it seemeth the youth is of good kin
both by his apparell & by his Manners ;
to turne him out, certainely it were a great sin."
" yea," quoth hee, " you may see hee hath some grace,
60 when as he speaks to his betters in place."
11
"Well," q?toththe Millers wiffe, "younge man, welcome
heer[e] !
& tho I sayt, well lodged shalt thou be ;
1 seething, boiling. — F.
2 The head, feet, and ears of swine
boi'ed and pickled for eating. Halli-
well.— F.
3 See Forewords to Babees Boke, p.
lxiv.— F.
KINGE AND MILLER. 151
fresh straw I will lay vpon yo«r bed soe braue, and he may
64 good browne hempen sheetes likwise," Quoth, shee. on straw
7 and hemp
" I," quoth the goodrnan, " & when that is done, sheets with
their son,
thou shalt lye noe worse then onr owne Sonne."
12
" Nay first," quoth Richard, "good fellowe, tell me
trne,
68 hast thou noe creepers in thy gay hose ? if he has no
. - creepers in
art thou not troubled with the Scabbado i r his breeches,
"pray you," quoth the K.ing, "what things are
those ?
art thou not lowsye nor scabbed ? " qwoth hee ; and is not
scabbed.
72 " if thou beest, surely thou lyest not wtth me.
13
This caused our Kmg suddenly to laugh most hartilye
till the teares trickled downe from his eyes,
then to there supper were the sett orderlye, They sup on
bag-
76 to hott bag puddings & good apple pyes ; puddings,
. apple pies,
nappy ale, good & stale, in a browne bowle, and nappy
w7a'ch did about the bord Merrilye troule.
14
"Heere," quoth the Miller, " good fellowe, He drinke TheMiiier
' u ' b drinks to the
to thee Kin g>
80 & to all the courtnolls ^7iat curteous bee."
"I pledge thee," quoth our ~King, "& thanke thee and the King
to him
heartilye
for my good welcome in euerye degree ;
& heere in like manner I drinke to thy sonne." and his son.
84 " doe then," saies Richard, " & quicke let it come."
15
" Wiffe," q«oth the Miller, " feitch me forth lightfoote, The Miller
£7iat wee of his sweetnesse a litle may tast." Lightfoot.
a faire venson pastye shee feiched forth presentlye.
1 MS. may be Scolloado. See Forewords to Babees Boke, 1 868, p. lxiv. — F,
152
KINGE AND M1LLEE.
The King
likes it
immensely.
88 " eate," quoth, the Miller " but first make noe wast ;
heer is dainty Lightfoote." " infaith," quoth, our King,
" I neuer before eate of soe dayntye a thinge."
Where can
he buy some?
It's the
King's deer
from
Sherwood.
16
" Iwis," said Richard, "noe dayntye att all it is,
92 for wee doe eate of it euerye day."
" in what place," sayd our King, " may be bought lik
to th[is ?] "
" wee neuer pay peennye for it, by my fay ;
from merry Sherwood wee feitch it home heerc ;
96 now & then we make bold with our Kings deere."
Don't tell
him.
100
17
" Then I thinke," quoth, our King, " that it is Venison."
" eche foole," quoth. Richard, " full well may see that ;
neuer are we w/thout 2 or 3 in the rooffe,
verry well fleshed & exellent ffatt.
but I pray thee say nothing where-ere thou goe,
we wold not for 2 pence the King shold it know."
Certainly
not, says
the King.
Next
morning the
nobles
find the King
at the
Miller's
house,
and fall on
their knees
before him.
18
" doubt not," saies l our King, " my promised secresye ;
104 the King shall neuer know more ont for mee."
a cupp of lambes woole 2 they dranke vnto him,
& to their bedds the past presentlye.
the Nobles next Morning went all vp & downe
108 for to seeke the King in euerye towne;
1 9 [page 237]
At last, att the Miller's house soone the did spye him
plaine,
as he was mounting vpon his faire steede ;
to whome the came presentlye, falling downe on their
knees,
1 MS. saiy.— F.
2 A favourite liquor among the com-
mon people, composed of ale and roasted
apples ; the pulp of the roasted apple
worked up with the ale, till the mixture
formed a smooth beverage. Nares. — F.
KINGE AXD MILLEK.
153
112 which, made the Millers hart wofullye bleed.
Shaking & quaking before him he stood,
thinking he shold be hanged by the rood.
The Miller
quakes.
20
The K[ing] perceiuing him fearfully tremblinge,
116 drew forth his sword, but nothing he said ;
the Miller downe did fall crying before them all,
doubtinge l the King wold cut of his head.
but he, his kind curtesie for to requite,
120 gaue him great liuing, & dubd him a Knight.
21
When as our noble King came from Kottingam,
& with his nobles in Westminster Lay,
recounting the sports & the pastime the had tane
124 in this late progresse along on the way;
of them all, great & small, hee did protest
the Miller of Mansfeild liked him best ;
The King
draws his
sword.
The Miller
expects to
have his
head cut off>
but is
knighted.
At West-
minster,
afterwards,
22
"And now, my Lorrfs," qwoth the King, "I am de-
termined,
128 against St. Georges next sumptuous feast,
that this old Miller, our youngest confirmed Knight,
with, his sonne Richard, shalbe both my guest ;
for in this merryment it is my desire
132 to talke with this Iollye Knight & the younge squier."
23
When as the Noble Lords saw the Kings merriment,
the were right Ioyfull & glad in their harts.
a Pursiuant the sent straight on this busines,
136 the w7«'ch oftentimes vsed those parts.
when he came to the place where he did dwell,
His message merrilye then he did tell.
the King
resolves
to ask the
Miller and
his son up
to a feast.
A pur-
suivant is
sent with
the invita-
tion,
1 fearing. — F.
154
KIXGE AM) MILLER.
which he
delivers in
due form.
24
" God saue jour worsliippe," then said the messenger,
140 " & grant jour Ladye l her owne harts desire ;
& to jour sonne Richard good fortune & happinesse,
that sweet younge gentleman & gallant squier !
our 'King greets you well, & thus doth say,
144 ' you must come to the court on St. Georges day ' ;
At first the
Miller is
half afraid,
but on
hearing of
the feast
148
25
" Therfore in any case fayle not to be in place."
" I- wis," quoth the Miller, "it is an odd lest !
what shold wee doe there ? " he sayd, "infaith I am
halfe afraid."
"I doubt," quoth. Richard, "to be hanged att the
least."
" nay," q^wth the Messenger, " you doe mistake ;
our Kmg prepares a great feast for jour sake."
gives the
pursuivant
three
farthings,
26
"Then," said the Miller, "now by my troth, Mes-
senger,
152 thou hast contented my worshipp full well :
hold ! there is 3 farthings to quite thy great gentleness
for these happy tydings which thou dost me tell,
let me see ! hearest thou me ? tell to our King,
and promises 156 weele wayte on his Mastershipp in euerye thing:."
to come. J rr J °
The
pursuivant
reports all
to the King.
160
27
The pursivant smyled at their simplicitye ;
& making many 2 leggs, tooke their reward,
& takeing then his leaue with great humilitye,
to the Kings court againe hee repayred,
showing vnto his grace in euerye degree
the Knights most liberall giffts & great bountye.
1 ? MS. Ladyes.— F.
2 Only half the n in the MS.— F.
KINGE AM) MILLER.
l.j.J
28
When hee was gone away, thus can the Miller say,
164 " heere comes expences & charges indeed ! The Miller
now must wee needs be braue, tho wee spend all wee Euy P new °
, clothes,
liaue ; horses, &c.
for of new garments wee haue great need,
of horsses & serving men wee must haue store,
168 with bridles & sadles & 20'^ e things more."
172
29
" Tushe, Sir Iohn," qnoth his whTe, " neither doe frett
nor frowne !
you shall bee att noe more charges of mee !
for I will turne & trim vp my old russett gowne,
with euerye thing else as fine as may bee ;
& on our Mill horsses full swift wee will ryd,
with pillowes & pannells as wee shall provyde."
His wife
dissuades
him.
She'll trim
up the old
clothes,
and they'll
ride their
mill-horses.
30
In this most statelye sort the rod vnto the court,
176 their lusty sonne 'Richard formost of all,
who sett vp by good hap a cockes fether in his cappe ;
& soe the ietted downe towards the Kmgs hall,
the Merry old Miller with his hands on his side,
180 his wiffe like Maid Marryan did Mince at that tyde.
Thus they
go to court.
184
31
The King & his nobles that hard of their coming,
meeting this gallant Knight with this braue traine,
"welcome, Sir 'Knight,'" qwoth hee, "w/th this jour The King
T -i i welcomes
gay Lady ! them>
good Sir Iohn Cockle, once welcome againe ;
& soe is this squier of courage soe free ! "
Qtwth dicke, " abotts on you ! doe you know me ? "
32
Quoth our King gentlye, " how shall I forgett thee ?
188 thou wast my owne bed- fellow ; well that I wot,
and assures
Richard
that he
156
KINGE AND MILLER.
remembers
him.
The King
conducts
them to
table,
but I doe thinke on a tricke ; tell me, pray thee, dicke,
how with farting we made the bed hott."
" thon horson happy knane," the[n] qiiotla. the Knight,
192 " speake cleanly to our [king now,] or else goe shite ! "
33 [page 238]
The king and his councellors hartilye laugh at this,
while the K»j tooke them by the hand,
with Ladyes & their maids, like to the Queene of
spades
196 the Millers wiffe did most orderlye stand ;
a milkemaids curtesye at euurye word,
& downe these folkes were set to the bord,
and after
dinner
drinks to
the Miller,
and wants
some of his
venison.
34
Where the 'King royally with princely Maiestye
200 sate at his dinner with Ioy & delight.
when he had eaten well, to resting then hee fell ;
taking a bowle of wine, dranke to the Kniglit,
" heeres to you both ! " he sayd, "in ale, wine, & beere,
204 thanking you hartilye for all my good cheere."
35
Qitoth Sir Iohn Cockle, " He pledge you a pottle,
were it the best ale in Nottingam-shire."
"but then," said our King, "I thinke on a thinge,
208 some of yowr lightfoote I wold we had heere."
" ho : ho : " Quoth Richard!, " full well I may say it ;
its knauerye to eate it & then to bewray it."
He asks
Richard to
pledge him.
Dick says he
must finish
his dinner
first ;
he wants a
black
pudding,
36
" What ! art thou hungry ? " qzwth our King merrilye,
212 " infaith I take it verry vnkind ;
I thought thou woldest pledg me in wine or ale
heartil[y.] "
"yee are like to stay," qitoth Dicke, "till I haue
dind ,
you feed vs with twatling dishes soe small.
216 zounds ! a blacke pudding is better then all;"
The Miller
and Richard
dance with
the ladies,
KINGE AND MILLER. 157
37
" I, marry," qiioth our Kmg, " that were a daintye thing,
if wee cold gett one heere for to eate."
with that, dicke straight arose, & phicket one out of and puIls
i • i r -i one outoE
his h|_OSe,J his breeches.
220 w7i/ch with heat of his breech began for to sweate.
the Km*/ made prefer to snatch it away ; "That's meat
" its meate for yo«r Master, good Sir, you shall stay ! " master, sir
King."
3S
Thus with great merriment was the time l wholy spent ;
224 & then the Ladyes prepared to dance.
old Sir Iohn 2 Cockle & Richard incontinent
vnto this practise the King did advance,
where-with the Ladyes such sport the did make,
228 the Nobles with laughing did make their heads ake. the nobles
laugh.
39
Many thankes for their paines the Kmg did giue them
then,
asking; young Richard if he wold be wed :
° J ° . TheKing
" amongst these ladyes faire, tell me which liketh thee." asks Dick
° J which lady
232 Quoth hee, " Iugg Grumball with the red head : he'd like.
°° Jugg
shees my loue ; shees my liffe ; her will I wed ; withttf 11 ed
shee hath sworne I shall haue her maidenhead." head."
40
Then Sir Iohn Cockle the King called vnto him ;
236 & of Merry sherwood made him ouerseer, makes 'the
TVTi 1 1 pt*
& gaue him out of hand 300 1 ! yearlye, overseer of
en jiit i r. i Sherwood,
but now take neede you steale noe more of my deere ! and warns
him not to
& once a quarter lets heare haue yowr vew ; steal any
deer.
240 & thus, Sir Iohn Cockle, I bid thee adew ! "
ffins.
1 A y has been altered into part of 2 Only half the n in the MS. — F.
the m in the MS.— F.
[" PcmcJie" printed in Lo. and Hum. Songs, p. 61, follows here
in the MS.]
158
gguumirte BattelL 1
Agincourt must have been a tempting theme to the ballad-
writer and poet of its day. The splendid pluck with which the
little English army, wasted by dysentery, ill-fed, and harassed by
loncf marches and hostile skirmishers, nevertheless went at its
enemies, facing the terrible odds of more than six to one, and
put to ignominious rout the vaunting knights of France, must
have appealed to the English heart and the English pride, and
ought to have been worthily sung. The ballad-writer especially
was bound to take it up, for the class he wrote for led the van
and won the field. As at Crecy, as at Poictiers, so at Agincourt,
the English yeomen humbled the gentlemen of France. Like
the feu d'enfer of our rifles at Inkerman, the hail of yeomen's
arrows gained England honour in the olden hard-fought field.
But though at Agincourt the rout of the first division of the
French army was due solely to our bowmen, against the second,
squire and knight, noble and king did well their part too — none
better than the Harry who said " We will not lose," and gave
the battle lastingly the name of Azincourt. To the valour of
all was due the flight of the French third division, which,
though more than double the number of the English host,
feared to face their arrows and their swords, and gallopped off
the field. That " the people of England were literally mad
with joy and triumph " at the victory — rushing into the sea to
meet Henry, and carrying him on shore on their shoulders —
we do not wonder ; but it is somewhat odd that no better
ballad or poem on the battle should have come down to us,
though in a play Shakspeare has done it justice. The ballads
known to me are only —
1 In the printed Collection of Old Ballads, 1726, vol. ii. p. 79, No. xii.
AGINCODRTB BATTELL. 159
1. The Deo gratias, Anglia, redde -pro victoria! printed by-
Percy in his Reliques, vol. ii. p. 24, " from a MS. copy in the
Pepys collection, vol. i., folio," and to which the musical notes
of the MS. are given in vol. ii. p. 24 of the second edition of
the Reliques. 2. The present copy, having seven stanzas more
than, but being otherwise nearly the same as, that in the Crown
Garland of Golden Roses, ed. 1569 (p. 69 of the Percy Soc. reprint),
the Collection of Old Ballads, 1726-38, vol. ii. p. 79, No. xii. ;
Evans, vol. ii. p. 351, &c. 3. The Three Man's Song, — far the
best of the lot, — the first verse of which is quoted in Heywood's
King Edward IV. ed. 1600 (p. 52 of the Shakspere Soc. reprint),
and the whole of which is printed from a black-letter copy (about
1665, Mr. Collier tells me) in Collier's Shakspere, ed. 1858, vol.
iii. p. 538. Its title is " Agin Court, or the English Bowman's
Glory : " to a pleasant new Tune. London, printed for Henry
Harper in Smithfield. It is a broadside, aud contains eleven
seven-line stanzas. It begins " Agincourt ! Agincourt ! Know
ye not Agincourt?" 4. The ballad No. 286 in the Halliwell
Collection in Chetham's Library, Manchester, entitled, " King-
Henry V., his Conquest of France in Revenge for the Affront
offered by the French King in sending him instead of the Tribute
a Ton of Tennis Balls." It begins, " As our King lay musing on
his bed ; " and two versions different from it and from one another
are given in Nicolas, Appendix, p. 78, and p. 80, ed. 1832.
5. The Cambro-Britoits Bcdlad of Agincourt, by Michael
Drayton, ib. p. 83. Nos. 3 and 4 will be printed at the end of
this volume.
Of Poems, there are :
1. a. That attributed to Lydgate, in three Passus, in Harl. MS.
5G5, fol. 102-14, beginning ' ; God |?at alle ]?is world gan make,"
and printed among the illustrations of The Chronicle of London,
4to, 1827, and in Nicolas, p. 301-29. /?. "The Siege of Har-
riet, & Batayl of Agencourt, by K. Hen. 5:" another copy
of L3'dgate's poem, says Nicolas (p. 301), but differing from it
so materially that it was necessary to print it as notes to the
corresponding passages of the other. It was printed by Hearne
at p. 359-75 of bis edition of Elmharrfs Life of Henry V., from
the since burnt Cotton MS., Vitellius D. xii. fol. 214 b. Extracts
from it are given by Nicolas, p. 301-29.
7. The Batayll of Egyngecourt, and the great Sege of
Rouen. Impryntyd by John Skot [about 1530 a.d.]. Re-
printed in Nicolas, and in Mr. W. C. Hazlitt's Remains of the
160 AGINCOURTE BATTELL.
Early Popular Poetry of England, vol. ii. p. 88-108. is,
says Nicolas ( App. p. 69), " merely another, though a very differen
version of the one " attributed to Lydgate.
2. Drayton's Battaile of Agincovrt, 1627. (Besides The Lay
of Agincourt, Edinburgh, 1819 (a very poor performance), and
possibly other modern productions.)
Of Dramas, we find :
1. The Famous Victories of Henry the Fifth : Containing the
Honourabell Battell of Agin-court: as it was plaide by the
Queene's Maiesties Players. London, Printed by Thomas
Creede, 1598, 4to, 26 leaves. Bodleian. (Malone). 1
2. The Chronicle History of Henry the Fift, With his Battell
fought at Agin Court in France. Togither with auncient Pis-
toll. 1600 : the first cast of Shakspere's Henry V. 2
In prose, a full and admirable account of the battle, with con-
temporary accounts and plentiful extracts from historians, is given
by Sir Nicholas Harris Nicolas in his History of the Battle of
Agincourt, and of the Expedition of Henry V. into France in
1415, (2nd ed., 1832; 3rd, 1838); and from this book it may
be worth while just to run through the points of our ballad, and
see how far they are borne out by facts. The Council of line 1,
Nicolas thinks was the parliament which met in November 1514,
which elected Chaucer's son Thomas its Speaker, and voted the
King supplies for the defence of the kingdom of England and
the safety of the seas. But it may have been a smaller Council,
no doubt held before the Commission of the 31st of May,
1514, absurdly claiming the French crown, was issued to the
Bishops of Durham and Norwich, the Earl of Salisbury, Eichard
Lord Grey, &c. — whom Monstrelet calls le Comte dJOvurset,
oncle du Roy d'Angleterre, le Comte de Qrez, V Admiral
d'Angleterre, les Euesques du Dumelin et de Noruegue, et
plusieurs autres iusques au nombre de six cens cheuaux ou
environ (vol. i. p. 216, ed. 1595) — and who were so hospitably
entertained in Paris. The great Council at which the arrange-
1 Hazlitt's Handbook. • Bonn's Lowndes, p. 2280, col. 2.
AGINCOURTE BATTELL. 1G1
merits for the expedition were made was held at Westminster on
three successive days, April 16, 17, 18, a.d. 1415, directly after
the despatch of Henry's second letter to Charles.
The story of the scornful treatment of the ambassadors in
1. 16-28 is belied by Monstrelet's account of the moult notable
feste dedans Paris en boyres, mangers, joustes, dances et autres
esbatemens, at which the English ambassadors were present ;
and there seems no foundation whatever for the present of the
tennis balls, which would have gone directly counter to the
French King's policy, letters, and interest. But still his young son
may have been saucy,, and have sent a saucy message to Henry.
The story was believed to be true at the time or soon after ; it
is mentioned by Elmham in his Latin-verse life of Henry V '
(though not in his prose life), and a long account of it is given
in a middle fifteenth-century Cotton MS. (Claudius A. viii.)
which Sir H. Nicolas prints, and which, as I had to refer to it
to correct his cornet to the MS. scorne, I add here too :
And tka« the dolphine of Fraunce aunswered to our embassatours,
and said in this maner, ' that the kyng was oner yong and to tender
of age to make any warre ayens hyni, and was not lyke yet to be
noo good werrioure to doo and to make suche a conquest there vpon
hym. And somwhat in scorne and dispite he sente to hym a tonne
tulle of tenys ballis, be-cause he wolde haue some-what for to play
w/t7(alle for hym and for his lordis, and that be-came hym better than
to mayntayn any werre. And than anone oure lordes that was
embassatours token hir leue and comen in to England ayenne, and
tolde the kyng and his counceille of the vngoodly aunswer that they
had of the Dolphy«, and of the present the whiche he had sent vnto
the kyng. And whan y e kyng had hard her wordis, and the answere
of the Dolpynne, he was wondre sore agreued, and righte euelle apayd
towarde the frensshemen, and toward the kyng, and the Dolphynne,
and thoughte to auenge hym vpon hem as sone as good wold send hym
grace and myghte ; and anon lette make tenys ballis for the Dolpynne
in all the hast that the myghte be made, and they were grete gonne
stones for the Dolpynne to play wythe-alle. (fol. 1, back.)
1 Printed in Coles's Memorials of Henri/ V.
VOL. II. Jl
162 AGINCOURTE BATTELL.
This Dauphin was Louis, eldest son of Charles VI., then
between eighteen and nineteen years of age. He was born on
January 22, 1396, and died before his father, without issue, on
December 18, 1415, in his twentieth year (Nicolas). But as
Henry V. was eight years older than the Dauphin, having been
born in 1388, it is not likely that he would have taunted Henry
with his youth.
Lines 33-40 : Henry exerted himself greatly to get his army
together, and had to pledge his crowns, his jewels, plate, &c.
to his men to guarantee them their wages. Nobody would
move without taking security from him. He sailed from South-
ampton on August 7, 1415, with a fleet of between 1200 and
1400 vessels of various sizes, from 20 to 300 tons, according to
Nicolas. Lingard makes the fleet 1500 sail, carrying 6000
men-at-arms and 2400 archers. The army landed at Clef de
Caus, or Kideaux, on August 15 ; on the 19th arrived before
Harfleur, and at once laid siege to it. On " the English balls,"
1. 34, and missiles, Laboureur states that, among other engines,
the English had some which threw stones of a monstrous size, and
projected entire millstones (des meules toutes entieres), which
threw down the walls with a frightful noise, so that by the Feast
of the Assumption (August 15, a wrong date) all their batteries
were destroyed. I find nothing about the "great gunn of Calais "
of 1.49; but on September 17 at midnight the French mes-
sengers came to treat with Henry ; and as the town was not
relieved by September 22, the Lord de (xaucourt and thirty- four
of the noblest persons of the town then surrendered it to him.
He turned out the inhabitants (1. 58) to the number of 2000,
besides citizens, 60 knights, and more than 200 other gentry;
left in the town more than the 300 Englishmen of our
ballad, 1. 59, even, 1 " under the captain 2 (Sir John Blount, says
1 There is a muster-roll of the garrison 22 knights, 273 men-at-arms, and 798
of Harfleur, under the Earl of Dorset, archers. Most of these, we may presume,
taken in the months of January, Feb- had been left behind when the King
ruary, and March, immediately following marched on to Agincourt. Hunter, p. 55.
the battle. It consisted of 4 barons, 2 )?elordBeauford,Harl.MS.575,f. 75 b.
AGINCOURTE BATTELL. 163
Monstrelet), certain barons and knights skilful in affairs of war,
with 300 lances, and 900 archers on pay " {Nicolas, p. 217), and
marched out himself on October 7 with " not above 900 lances
and 5000 archers," says a writer who was with him. Nicolas
puts the force at from 6000 to 9000 fighting men. Lines 61-4
of the ballad are not true, for Henry's movements were watched,
his stragglers cut off, and the country laid waste before him.
He was repulsed in his first attempts to cross the Somme, between
October 12 and 18 ; but on the 19th, finding a ford not staked,
his army got over ; on the 24th reached Maisoncelles, and on the
25th fought the battle.
The 600,000 French of 1. 72 is of course an exaggeration, a
has been added for effect. 1 The message and answer of lines
73-88 are not historical, though the following particulars are
nearly so, and the 10,000 killed of 1. 137 is borne out by
Nicolas's conclusion, that the whole of the French loss on the
field was between 10,000 and 11,000 men.
The Duke of Yorke of line 117 was " Edward, Duke of York,
son of Edmund of Langley, Duke of York, son of King
Edward III., and cousin german to the King. He indented on
April 29 to serve with 1 banneret, 4 knights, 94 esquires, and
300 mounted archers. His contingent, in the indenture of jewels,
is said to have been 99 lances and 300 archers. He had one of
the crowns in pledge. He went on with the King to Agincourt,
where he lost his life " {Hunter, p. 22). On the Wednesday
before the battle, says Monstrelet, i. 227, "le due d'Yorch, son
oncle, mena?it l'auawtgarde, se logea a Frene^ch sur la riuiere
de Cauche." This leadership of the vanguard the Duke kept on
the 25th, and as the Cotton MS. already quoted from narrates
his asking for it, and the events of the battle, I copy a page
and a half of it from leaves 3 and 4.
1 The highest number in any of the other persons. Note to Hardyngfs
sixteen chronicles that Nicolas gives Chronicle, ' according to the computation
(p. 133, ed. 1832) is "3 Dukes, •') Counts, of the Heralds.'" 150,000 occurs to a
'JO Barons, 1050 Knights, and 100,000 doubtful list. Nicolas, p. 370.
M -1
164 AGINCOURTE BA.TTELL.
And the duke of yorke felle on knees and besougkte the kyng of a
hone, that he wold graunte hym that day the avaunteward in his
hatayle. And the kyng graunted hym his askyng, And sayd,
" graunte mercy, cosen of yorke," and prayd hym to make hym redy.
And than he bad euery man to ordeyne a stake of tre, and sharpe
bothe endes that the stake myghte be pyghte in the ye-^rthe a slope,
that hir enemies shuld not ouer-come hem on horsbak, ffor that were
hir fals purpose, and araide hem alle there for to ouer-ryde our meyne
sodenly at the fyrst comyng on of hem at the fyrst brount : and al
nyghte be-ffore the bataile ]> e ffrenshemen made many grete tiers and
moche reuelle, with howtyng and showtyng, and plaid oure kyng and
his lordis at the dise, and an archer alway for a blanke 2 of hir money,
ifor they wenden alle had bene heres. the morne arose, the day gan
spiyng, And the kyng by goode auise let araie his batayle 3 and his
wenges, and charged euery man to kepe hem hole to-geders, and
praid hem alle to be of good chere. And whan they were redy, ho
asked what tyme of the day it was, And they sayd prime. Than said
oure kyng, "now is good tyme ! For alle England praythe for vs ;
and therfore be of good chere, and let vs goo to oure iorney." And
than he said with an highe vois, " in the name 4 of almyghtey god and
seynt George, avaunt Baner! and seint george this day be thyne
helpe ! " And than these ffrenshmen come prikyng doune as they
wolde haue ouer-ridden alle oure meyne. But god and oure archers
made hem sone to stomble ; ffor oure archers shett neuer arow a-mys,
but yt persshed and broughte to grounde man and hors ; ffor they
"pat day shoten for a wager. And oure stakes mad hem stoppe, &
ouer-terned eche on oothir that they lay on hepes two spere lenghthe
of heyghte. And oure kyng with his meyne and with his men of
armes and archiers that thakked 5 on theym so thykke with arowes,
and leyd on with strokes, and oure kyng withe his owne hondes
faughte manly. And thus almyghtey god and seynt George broughte
oure enymies to grounde and yaf vs that day ]> e victorie. and there
were slayne of ffrenshmen that day in the felde of Agincourte mo
thanne A xi M 11 withe prisoners that were taken. And there were
nombred that day of ffrenshmen in the felde mo than six score thou-
1 MS. fol. 3, back. 3 The main body under his own com-
2 Fr. Blanc, the halfe of a Sol, a peece maud. The vanguard as the right wing
dl' money which we call also, a blanke. under the Duke of York, the rearguard
Sol, a Sous, or the French shilling, as the left wing under Lord Camois.
whereof terme make ono of ours. — Cot- 4 MS. mame.
grave. 6 thwacked, beat, pattered.
AGINCOURTE BATTELL. 165
sand, and of Englishemen nat vij M u ; but god that day faughte for vs.
And after cam ther tydynges to oure kyng that there was a new
batayle of ffrenshemen redy to stele on hym, and comen towardis
\_fol. 4.] hym. Anone our kyng let crie that euery man shuld
slee his prisoners that he had take ; and anon araid his bataille
ayenne to fighte with the frenshmen. And whanne they sawe that our
men kylled doune her prisoners, thanne they w&tMrowe hem, and
brake hir bataille and alle hir Array. And this oure kyng, as a
worthy conqueror, had that day the victorye in the felde of Agencourt
in Picardie. 1
The Duke of Orleance, 1. 149, though he was taken prisoner
in the battle, is not named by Monstrelet as the leader of the
attack on Henry's camp :
Et adonc vindrent nouuelles au Roy Anglois, que les Francois les
assailloient par derriere : & qu'ils auoient desia prins ses sommiers
& autres bagues, laquelle chose estoit veritable : car Robinet de
Bournonuille, Rifflart de Clamasse, Ysambart d'Azincourt, & aucuns
autres ho?«mes d'armes, accompagnez de six cens paisans, allerent
ferir au bagaige dudit Roy d'Angleterre. Et prindrent lesdites
bagues, & autres choses, auec grand nombre de cheuaux desdits
Anglois, entre-temps que les gardes d'iceux estoient occupez en la
bataille. Monstrelet, vol. i. p. 229.
The 200,000 French prisoners is an impossible number, and
Nicolas does not give any at all. The highest estimate of
the English loss is 1600 men. From Agincourt Henry marched
to Calais, where he arrived on October 29. On November 14
he crossed the Channel to Dover, and on the 24th entered
London in triumph :
the Cite of london, where ]>at there was shewed many a fayre
syghte at all the conduytes and at crosse in the chepe, as in heuenly
arraye of aungels, Archaungels, patriarches, prophites and Virgines,
with dyuers melodies, sensyng and syngyng, to welcome oure kyng ;
And alle the conduytes rennyng with wyne. (Cott. Claud. A. viii.
leaf 4, back).
The last three verses of our ballad quicken and alter events
1 Nicolas quotes this also, p. 277-8, at foot.
16G
AGINCOURTE BATTELL.
considerably. It was not till after many a weary siege and
fight, culminating with the fall of Rouen on January 16, 141 9, '
that Henry saw his beautiful bride, and that for one day only,
on May 30, 1419. It was not till May 20, 1420, that he
married her at Troyes ; not till December of that year that he
made his triumphal entry into Paris with his wife and his
father-in-law, the French King. He was never crowned in
Paris, King of France, but his wife was crowned in Westminster
Abbey, Queen of England, on St. Matthew's day, September 21,
a.d. 1421.
Henry V.
A conncell brane 2 our ~K.ing did hold
with many a lord & knight,
in 3 whom, he trulye vnderstands
4 how ffrance withheld his right.
sends an
ambassador
to the
French King
therefor a braue embassador
vnto the ~ELing he sent,
that he might ffully vnderstand
3 his mind & whole entente,
to yield him
his right,
or he'll take
it.
desiring him, as 4 freindlye sort,
his lawfull wright to yeeld,
or else he sware 5 by dint of sword
1 2 to win the same in feild.
Charles VI.
answers
the ~K.ing of ffrance, with all his lords
who 6 heard this message plaine,
vnto our braue embassador
1 6 did answer in disdaine ;
1 See the "Sege of Eoan," ArchcBol.
xxi. 48 ; xxii. 361. — P.
2 grave, P.O. (Print 1 ? Copy).— P.
3 Of. Conjecture].— P.
4 in, P.C.— P.
5 vow'd, P.C.— P.
6 which, P.C.— P.
AGIXC0U1STE BATTELL.
K)7
avIio sayd, 1 "our King was yett but 2 youngo
& of a 3 tender age ;
wherfor I way not for his warres, 4
20 nor care not for his rage, 5
" whose 6 knowledge eke 7 in fleats of armes,
whose sickill 8 [is] but 9 verry small,
whose 10 tender ioynts more flitter are
24 to tosse a Tennys ball."
that he
cares not for
Henry's
threats,
a tunn of Tennys balls th erf ore,
in pryde and great disdaine
he sends to Noble Henery the 5'! 1 , 11
28 who recompenced 12 his paine.
and sends
him a tun of
tennis-balls.
& when our Kmg this message hard
he waxed wrath in bis 13 hart,
& said " he wold such balls p?-ovyde
32 that 13 shold make all france to smart."
Henry
an army great 14 our "King prepared, 15
that was both good & strong ;
& from Sowthampton is our King
36 with all his ISTauye gone.
prepares an
army,
he landed in ffrance both safe 16 and sound
with all his warlike traine ;
vnto 17 a towne called Harffleete first ,8
40 he marched vp amaine.
lands in
France,
1 And feign'd, P.C.— P.
2 too, P.C.— P.
3 of too, P.O.— P.
4 we weigh — of his war, P.C — P.
5 fear we his courage, P.C. — P.
8 His, P.C— P.
' is, P.C— P.
8 skill.— P.
9 As yet but &c, P.C— P.
10 His.— P
11 He sent unto our noble K? , P.C
-P.
12 To recompence, P.C — P.
13 d.—P.
" then, P.C— P.
15 did raise, P.C— P.
18 In France he landed safe, &c, P.C
-P.
17 And to, P.C— P.
18 of Harfleur strait, P.C— P.
168
AGINCOURTE BATTELL.
besieges
Harfleur,
44
and when he had beseeged the same,
against these fensed walls
to batter downe their statlye towers
he sent his English Balls.
bids it sur-
render
or he'll beat
it to the
ground.
1 And he bad them yeeld [up to him 2 ]
themselnes & eke their towne,
or else he sware vnto the earth
48 with cannon 3 to beate them downe.
[page 242]
The Govern -
ors give up
the town.
1 the great gunn of Caleis was vpsett, 4
he mounted against those walls 5 ;
the strongest steepele in the towne,
52 he threw downe bells & all.
1 then those that were the gouernors
their woefull hands did wringe 6 ;
the brought their Keyes in humble sort
56 vnto our gracious K.ing.
Henry
garrisons it,
1 & when the towne was woone and last,
the ffrenchmen out the " threw,
& placed there 800 englishmen
60 that wold to him be true.
and
marches to
this being done, our Noble K.ing 8
marched vp & downe that 9 land, —
& not a ffrenchman ffor his liffe
64 durst once his fforce withstand, —
1 These 4 stanz 1 ! not in print. — P.
2 MS. cut away. It has more words.
-F. He hade the governors give up.
-P,
3 guns.-
* then.-
-P.
-P.
5 was ••'gainst their wall. — P.
6 Only half the n in the MS.— F.
7 he.— P.
8 done our noble English King, P.O.
—P.
9 the, P.O.— P.
68
AGINCOURTE BATTELL.
till l ho came to Agincourt ;
& 2 as it was his chance,
to ffincl 3 the ~K.ing in reaclinesse,
with him was all the power of ffrance,
169
Agincourt,
where the
French King
is,
a mightye host they 4 had prepared
off armed souldiers then,
wh /ch was noe lesse (the chronicle sayes) 5
72 then 600000 6 men.?
with 000,000
men.
the K.ing of ffrance that well did know
the number of our men,
in vanting pride vnto our 'K.ing
76 sends one of his heralds 8 then
Charles
sends
a herald
80
to vnderstand what he wold gine
for the 9 ransome of his liffe,
when in that feild he had taken him 10
amiddst that u bloody striffe.
to ask Henry
what ransom
he'll pay for
his life.
& when 12 our ~King the Message heard, 13
did straight the l4 answer make,
saying, " before that thing shold 15 come to passe,
84 many 16 of their harts shold 17 ake !
Henry
answers
1 Until, P.C.— P.
8 Where, P.C.— P.
3 He found. — P. him was, 1. 68,
marked out by P. conj[ecturallyj. — F.
4 He, P.O.— P.
5 by just account, P.O. — P.
6 40,000, P.C.— P.
7 Between 18 and 19'. h Stanza of y e
MS. is the following in Print: —
Which sight did much amaze our king,
For ho and * all his host
Not passing fifteen thousand had,
Accounted at the most. — P.
8 Did sond a Herald, P.C.— P.
9 d.—P.
10 he in field sh'd ... be, P.C.— P.
11 their, P.C.— P.
12 then . . .—P.
13 with cheerfid heart. — P.
11 this.— P.
15 thing shold, cut out by P. — F.
some.
17 shall, P.C.— P.
* n— P.
170
AGINCOURTE BATTELL.
" My heart's
blood."
88
vnto your proud presumptuss prince
declare this tiling," quoth hee,
my owne harts blood shall pay the price ;
nought * else he getts of me." 2
The French
then all the night the frenchman Lyen,
with triumphe, mirth, & Ioy ;
the next morning they mad full accomp[t] 3
92 our Armye to destroye.
play at dice
for the
English,
& for our ~K.ing & all his Lords
at dice the 4 playd apace,
& for our comon souldiers coates
96 they set a prize but base,
and value
their red
coats at 8d.,
white at id.
8 pence for a redd coate, 5
& a groate was sett to a white ; 6
because they 7 color was soe light,
100 they sett noe better buy itt. 8
Henry en-
courages his
men:
the cheerfull day at last was come ;
our K.ing with Noble hart
did pray his valliant soldiers all
104 to play a worthye part,
& not to shrinke from fainting foes,
whose fearfull harts in ffeeld
wold by their feirce couragious stroakes
108 be soone in-forced 9 to yeeld ;
1 none. — P.
2 Seven Stanz 8 following not in Print.
3 Making account the next morning,
or,
They made &c— P. del. full.— P.
4 they.— P.
5 coat was set. — P.
6 And fourpence for a white. — P.
' They put in brackets by P. conj. — F.
» by't.— P.
9 enforced.— P.
AGINCOURTE BATTELL.
171
" regard not of ' their multitude,
tho they are more then wee,
for eche of vs well able is
112 to beate downe ffrenchmen 3 ;
" Don't
mind the
Fixnch
numbers ;
each of us
can kill
three of
them ; but
" yett let euerye man provide himselfe 2
a strong 3 substantiall stake,
& set it right before himselfe,
116 the horsmans force to breake."
let every
archer get a
stake to stop
the horse-
men."
& then 4 bespake the Duke of yorke
" noble King," said hee,
" the leading of that 5 battell braue
120 vouch[s]afe to giue it 6 me ! "
The Duke of
York
leads the
vanguard.
" god amercy, cosen yorke," sayes hee, Henry
" I doe 7 grant thee thy request ;
Marche you 8 on couragiouslye, [page 243]
124 & I will guide 9 the rest." the rest.
then came the bragginge frenchmen downe
with cruell 10 force & might,
with whome our noble "King began
128 a harde & cruell flight.
The French
come on.
our English archers 1 1 discharged their shafts Our archers
as thicke as hayle in skye, 12
& 13 many a frenchman in that 14 feelde km many;
132 that happy day did dye ;
1 you, or then. — P.
2 himselfe is in 1. 114 in the MS. P.
marks it to go to 1. 113. yett is marked
out by P.— P.
3 But yet let every man provide
A strong &c. — P.
4 With that, P.O.— P.
5 this (the), P.C.— P.
6 to, PC— P.
7 d[e!e].— P.
s then— thou, P.O.— P.
9 lead, PC— P.
10 greater, PC— P.
11 d. English. [Insert] they, PC— P.
12 from skye, P.C— P.
13 That, P.C— P.
" the, P.C— P.
172
AGINCOURTE BATTELL.
their stakes
stop the
horse.
1 ffor the horssmen stumbled on our stakes,
& soe their Hues they lost ;
& many a frenchman there was tane
136 for prisoners to their 2 cost.
10,000
French aro
slain,
10,000
taken,
10000 ffrenchmen 3 there were slaine
of enemies in the ffeeld,
& neere as many prisoners tane 4
140 that day were fforced to yeeld.
and Henry
wins the
day.
thns had our "Kmg a happy day
& victorye ouer ffrance ;
he brought his foes vnder bis ffeete 5
144 that late in pride did prance.
While the
fight is going
on, news
comes
G when they were at the Maine battell there
With all their might & forces, then 7
a crye came ffrom our English tents
148 that we were robbed all them 8 ;
that the
French have
plundered
the English
tents.
for the Duke of Orleance, with a band of men,
to our English tents they came 9 ;
all 10 our Iewells & treasure that they haue taken,
152 & many of our boyes n haue slaine.
Henry
orders all
the French
prisoners to
be slain,
much greeved was Kmg 12 Harry therat, —
this was against 13 the law of armes then,-
comands euerye souldier on paine of death
156 to slay euerye prisoner then. 14
1 This stanza not in Print. — P.
2 [prisoner ••] his, [P.]C. — P.
3 men that day, P.C.— P.
4 (d. P.O.)— P.
s them quickly under foot, P.C. — P.
6 The Nine Stanz". following not in
print, but instead the annexed stanza
vizt. : —
The Lord preserve our noble King
And grant to him likewise
The upper hand and victory
Of all his enemies ! — P.
7 force and might.- — P.
8 they were robbed quite.— P.
9 Of men unto them. came. — P.
10 And prefixed; Iewells §~, and that
marked out by P. — F.
11 all our boys, so ShakespT — P.
12 the King.— P.
13 Boing 'gainst. — P. and then deleted.
— F.
14 And bade y™ slay their Prisoners
For to revenge these hurms. — P.
AGINCOURTE BATTELL.
173
160
164
lfi8
172
176
200000 l ffrenchemen our Englishmen had,
some 2, & some had one 2 ;
euerye one was commanded by sound of trumpett
to slay his prisoner then. 3
& then the followed vpon the maine battell ;
the ffrenchmen the fled then 4
towards the citye of Paris
as fast as the 5 might gone.
but then ther was neuer a peere with- in france 6
of all those 7 Nobles then,
of all those worthye Disse peeres,
durst come to 'King Harry 8 then.
but then Katherine, the "Kings fayre daughter there, 9
being proued apparant his heyre,
with her maidens 10 in most sweet attire
to King Harry did repayre ; ' ]
& when shee came before our l2 King,
slice kneeled vpon her knee,
desiring him 13 that his warres wold li cease,
& that l3 he her loue wold bee.
200,000 of
them.
The French
flee towards
Paris,
and no
Duzeper
dares meet
King Harry;
hut the
Princess
Katherine
comes anil
asks him
to marry
her.
180
there- vpon our English Lords then agreed 15
with the Peeres of ffrance then 16 ;
soe he Marryed Katherine, the Kmqs faire daughter, ITc d °es, , "" 1
^ * ° is crowned
& was crowned King in Paris then. 17
ffins.
King in
Paris.
1 10,000.— P. Both men deleted.— F.
4 Some one and some had two. — P.
3 And each was bid by Trumpets sound
To slay his prisoner tho,
(or)
His Prisoner to slo. — P.
! anon. — P. the, 1. 16-!, and $, the and
tip of 1. 161 deleted by P.— F.
s they.— P.
6 Then was there never a Peer in
I'' ranee. Conj. — P.
Then eotdi there nor be found in France
Of their Nobles all or Some. — P.
7 Not one of all those. — P.
8 to K? Harry come. — P.
9 King's Daughter fair, [P.]C— P.
10 all— Maids.— P. then, 1. 169, his,
1. 170, most, 1. 171, marked d by P.— F.
11 Did to our King rep™, [P.]C.— P.
12 our.— P.
13 d.—P.
14 might.— P.
15 Our Ks & — Lords.— P.
,fi Soon with the French agreed. —P.
" So at Paris he fair Kath n . e wed
And crowned was with spec I,— P.
174
Conscience* 1
Theue are two sides to Early English Literature ; one gay, the
other grave ; one light, the other earnest : and a man who comes
to the subject fresh from struggles iu the cause of reform,
social and political, and meets first with the grave and earnest
side of our early writings, is struck with delight and surprise at
finding that in the old days, too, protesters against wrong existed,
and that English writers denounced from the depths of their
soul, in words of sternest indignation, the oppressions and abuses
from which the English poor of their days suffered. Having
passed myself from those Morning Chronicle letters on " Labour
and the Poor " — which in 1849-50 revealed so much of the sad
state of our workmen, — from meetings of sweated tailors, over-
worked bakers, and ballast-heavers forced into drunkenness, to
the pages of Roberd of Brunne's Handlyng Synne, Langlande's
Vision of Piers Ploughman, Piers Ploughman's Crede, and
works of like kind from 1303 to 1560, — I can bear witness to
the deep impression made on me by the noble and fervent spirits
of our early men, rebuking the selfish, denouncing the hard-
hearted, calling down God's judgment on the oppressor ; striving,
in their time too, to leave the land better than they found it.
As one looked backward to these sources of the river of English
life, one heard a great murmur of wrong rise from the torrents'
currents, one saw the stream turbid with the woes of " humble
folk ; " but there were never wanting voices, ordering the one to
be stilled in orderly channels, and the other cleared. Further
' This is a satirical Allegory: and seems not very ancient, vid. St. 13, v. 4. -P.
CONSCIENCE. 175
study of our early writers did not lessen this impression : for
though the bright side came, though Chaucer's living sketches
portrayed all that was merriest in early days, yet still there was
method in his mirth ; abuses in religion and social life were
exposed, none the less effectively because with a joke ; and
when he spoke seriously, he too declared, "Thilke that thay
clepe thralles, ben Groddes people ; for humble folk ben Christ.es
frendes : thay ben contubernially with the Lord : . . . certes,
extorciouns and despit of our undirlinges is dampnable."
(Persones Tale, De avaritia.) To their honour be it said, our
early writers were on the weak man's side against the strong,
and did what in them lay to lessen the vice of the world. It is
this which makes the lovers of them not only surprised, but in-
dignant, at the willing and wilful ignorance in which men of our
day remain with regard to them. Our moderns will not take a
few days' trouble to master their language ; they care little fortheir
thoughts : but when once the readers of the nineteenth — or is it
to be the twentieth ? — century awake to the recognition of the
fact that there is an Early English Literature worth studying, they
will be ashamed of their countrymen's long neglect, and gladly
acknowledge the value of the treasures they will find — food for
all the best impulses of the human soul. So far as I know, justice
has never yet been done to this spirit of our early literature by any
writer on it, except the latest — Professor Morley. He, a man
of mind akin with that of our old men — fresh from half a life
spent in struggles for reform in health-laws, education, politics,
and religion, ever backing the right and fighting the wrong — has
come to the old books and said to them, not only " what were you
translated or altered from, what manuscripts are there of you ? "
but first and mainly, " what do you. 77iean? what has the spirit of
your writer got to say to the spirits of me and men here now ? "
And the old bones (that were nothing more to so many) have
taken flesh again and answered him, have stretched out their hands
1 76 CONSCIENCE.
and gript his as a friend's ; and he has put down their answer for
us in his own way in divers places of his genial and able book, 1
one of which I quote. He is speaking of Grower's Vox Cla-
mantis, written on Wat Tyler's rebellion.
" In that earlier work, though written with vigour and ease in
Latin, the language of literature which alone then seemed to be
lasting, John Grower spoke especially and most essentially the
English mind. To this day we hear among our living country-
men, as w T as to be heard in Grower's time and long before,
the voice passing from man to man that — in spite of admixture
with the thousand defects incident to human character — sustains
the keynote of our literature, and speaks from the soul of our
history the secret of our national success. It is the voice that
expresses the persistent instinct of the English mind to find
out what is unjust among us and undo it, to find out duty to
be done and do it, as Gfod's bidding. We twist religion into
many a mistaken form. With thought free and opinions mani-
fold we have run through many a trial of excess and of its
answering reaction. In battle for main principles we have
worked on through political and social conflicts in which often,
no doubt, unworthy men rising to prominence have misused
for a short time dishonest influence. But there has been no
real check to the great current of national thought, the stream
from which the long line of our English writers, like the trees
by the fertile river-bank, derive their health and strength.
We have seen how persistently that slow and earnest English
labour towards Gfod and the right was maintained for six
centuries before the time of Chaucer, from the day when
Csedmon struck the first note of our strain of English song with
the words : ' For us it is very right that we praise with our
words, love in minds, the Keeper of the Heavens, Glory King of
Hosts.' It was the old spirit still in Chaucer's time that worked
in the 'Vision of Piers Plowman,' and spoke through the Voice
of Grower as of one crying in the wilderness, e Prepare ye the
way of the Lord.' It needed not in those days that a man
should be a Wicliffite to see the griefs of the Church and
people, and to trace them to their root in duties unperformed.
Gower's name is a native one, possibly Cymric, but derived pro-
bably in or near Kent, from the old Saxon word for marsh-
1 English Writers, vol. ii. pt. i. p. 106-7.
CONSCIENCE. 177
country, of which there was much about the Thames mouth,
Gyrwa-land. His genius is unmixed Anglo-Saxon, closely allied
to that of the literature before the Conquest, in the simple ear-
nestness of a didactic manner leavened by no bold originality of
fancy. In his Latin verse Grower writes easily, and, having his
soul in his theme, forcibly. But he tells that which he knows,
and invents rarely. His few inventions also, as of the dream of
transformed beasts that represent Wat Tyler's rabble, of the
ship of the state at sea, of his landing at an island full of turmoil
which an old man described to him as Britain, are contrivances
wanting in the subtlety and the audacity of true imaginative
genius. He does not see as he writes, and so write that all they
who read see with him. But in his own old English or Ansrlo-
Saxon way, he tries to put his soul into his work. Thus, in the
' Vox Clamantis ' we have heard him asking that the soul of his
book, not its form, be looked to ; and speaking the truest English
in such sentences as that 'the eye is blind, and the ear deaf,
that convey nothing down to the heart's depth ; and the heart
that does not utter what it knows is as a live coal under ashes.
If I know little, there may be another whom that little will
help. Poor, I give of my scanty store, for I would rather be of
small use than of none. But to the man who believes in (rod
no power is unattainable if he but rightly feels his work; he
ever has enough whom God increases.' This is the old spirit of
Csedmon and of Bede, in which are laid, while the earth lasts,
the strong foundations of our literature. It was the strength of
such a temper in him that made Grower strong. ' God knows,'
he says again, ' my wish is to be useful ; that is the prayer that
directs my labour.' And while he thus touches the root of his
country's philosophy, the form of his prayer that what he has
written may be what he would wish it to be, is still a thoroughly
sound definition of good English writing. His prayer is that
there may be no word of untruth, and that 'each word may
answer to the thing it speaks of, pleasantly and fitly ; that he
may flatter in it no one, and seek in it no praise above the praise
of Grod. Give me,' he asks, ' that there shall be less vice and
more virtue for my speaking.' "
So far as regards the spirit of our early literature, I believe
that Professor Morley is justified in every word that he has said.
Granted the occasional coarseness of expressions in it to us,
granted many another shortcoming, the spirit of it is noble and
vol. n. N
178 CONSCIENCE.
worthy of honour, as its words are worthy of study, by every
Englishman.
The present poem, Conscience, is one effort, a late one, in the
strain of that " slow and earnest labour towards God and the
right " of which Professor Morley speaks. Differing as it does
in word and form from the Ayenbite of Inwyt (or Remorse of.
Conscience) which Dan Michel of North Gate, " ane brother of
the cloystre of saynt Austin of Canterburi," fulfilled in the
year of our lordes bearing, 1340, it has yet the same aim,
fris boc is y write
uor englisse men, J»et hi wyte (may learn)
hou hi ssolle ham-zelue ssriue,
and maki ham klene ine Juse Hue.
With Richard Rolle of Hampole in 1345 (or thereabouts), its
writer desires that by his Pricke of Conscience men may
Be stird J?ar-by til ryghtwyse way,
J?at es, tille \>e way of gude lyfyng,
And at \>e last be broght til gude endyng. (p. 258, 1. 9611.)
With Langlande, our Conscience tries the Court, the Lawyers,
the Landlords, the Merchants, the Clergy ; and all he finds in
the possession of his enemies. Covetousness, Lechery, Usury,
Avarice, and Pride have their way with all ; the husbandmen are
left desolate so that they cannot help the poor, and Conscience is
driven out to lodge in the wood, and eat hips and haws, his only
comforters being Mercy, Pity, and Almsdeeds. In early times
Langlande's Conscience fared better : he got the King on his
side ; stood his ground well ; reproved Mede or Bribery ; brought
sinners to repentance, sent them seeking for truth, and remained
master of the situation. (See Langlande' 's Vision of Piers
the Ploughman, ed. Skeat, E. E. Text Soc. 1867, Passus 3-5.)
A contrast of the different evils complained of by reforming
writers in different ages, and the comparative prominence given
to each vice by each writer, could not fail to bring out the cha-
CONSCIENCE. 179
racteristics of the successive periods of our social history, and
he of great interest. But though I have some material for it,
want of space forbids my attempting it here. Still, the point
may be illustrated by looking at the clergy's hinderers in their
good work of giving, as mentioned in the present poem,
for their wiues & their children soe hange them vpon,
that whosoeuer giues alines deeds they will giue none,
when set beside Eoberd of Brunne's complaints, in his Handlyng
Synne, about the priest's mare or concubine, and the earlier one
of the Old English Homilies (? about 1200 a.d.) that Mr.
Richard Morris will edit, probably in 1869, for the Early English
Text Society :
And oftre fele lerdemen speken alse lewede alse ure drihten seide
burn anes prophetes mu6e. Erit sicitt populus sacerdos. Prest sal
leden his lif alse lewede mam . and sw r o hie dot? nuSe '. and sumdel
werse. For J>e lewede man wuroec5 his spuse mid cloSes more fane mid
him seluen. and prest naht sis ( = so his) chireche, ]>e is his spuse '
ac his dale, ]>e is his hore . awlencS hire mid clones . more ]>an him
seluen. De chirche clones ben to-brokene ' and ealde . and his
wines shule ben hole l . and new T e . His alter cloS great and sole '■ and
hire chemise smal and hwit . and te albe sol ' and hire smoc hwit.
pe haned-line sward ' and hire wimpel wit . oSer maked geleu mid
safFran. De meshakele of medeme fustain . and hire mentel grene
oSer burnet. De corporeals sole! and unshapliche . hire handcloSes .
and hire bord clones maked wite and lustliche on to siene. De caliz
of tin i and hire nap of mazere and ring of gokle. And is ]>e prest
swo muchele forcuoere . ]>ane ]>e lewede. Swo he w T uroeS his hore
more ]>an his spuse. — Homilies in Trinity Coll. MS. a.d. 1200.
Translation uy Mr. HicTia/rd Moitis.
And many other learned men speak as the unlearned, as our Lord
spake through the mouth of a prophet, Erit sicitt, 8fc. The priest
shall lead his life as the laity; and so they do now, and somewhat
Avorse, for the layman honoureth his spouse with clothes more than
himself, and the priest not so his church, which is his spouse; but
his day (maid servant), who is his whore, whom he adorneth with
clothes more than himself. The church cloths are ragged and old,
x 2
180 CONSCIENCE.
and his woman's shall be whole and new. His altar cloth great
(coarse) and dirty (soiled), and her chemise small and white ; and
the alb soiled, and her smock white ; the head linen black, and
her wimple (neck-cloth) white, or made yellow with saffron. The
masscloth of paltry fustian, and her mantle green or bnrnet ; the
corporas soiled and badly made, her band-cloths and her table-
cloths made white and pleasant to the sight. The chalice of tin, and
her cup of maser (a sort of hard wood gilded or inlaid with jewels),
and her ring of gold ; and so the priest is much worse than the laity
for he honoureth his whore more than his spouse.
On the question of the rents asked by grasping landlords, I
may quote a passage from Ascham used in the Forewords to The
Babees Boke, &c. (E. E. T. Soc, 1868).
" He says to the Duke of Somerset on Nov. 21, 1547 {Works,
ed. Giles, i. 140-1),
" ' Qui auctores sunt tanta? miserise ? . . . Sunt illi qui hodie
passim, in Anglia, pradia monasteriorum gravissimis annuis
reditibus auxerunt. Hinc omnium rerum exauctum pretium ; hi
homines expilant totam rempublicam. Villici et coloni universi
laborant, parcunt, corradunt, ut istis satisfaciant. . . Hinc tot
familise dissipatse, tot domus collapsae . . Hinc, quod omnium
miserrimum est, nobile illud decus et robur Angliae, nomen, in-
quam, Yomanorum Anglorum, fractum et collisum est
Nam vita, qu.e nunc vivitur a plurimis, non vita, sed miseria
EST.'
(When will these words cease to be true of our land ? They
should be burnt into all our hearts.) "
Harrison, in 1577, speaks more easily about rents, and as he
deals also with the question of Usury or Interest noted in our
poem, I make a long quotation from his Description of England,
a book invaluable to the student of the England of Shakespeare's
days, and which I hope we shall soon reprint in the Extra Series
of our Early English Text Society. Harrison is speaking of the
" Three things greatlie amended in England " in his day :'"(1.)
Chimnies; (2.) Hard lodging; (3.) Furniture of household,"
and of the latter says :
The third thing they tell of, is the exchange of vessell, as of
CONSCIENCE. 181
treene platters into pewter, and woodden spoones into siluer or tin.
For so common were all sorts of treene stuffe in old time, that a man
should hardlie find foure peeces of pewter (of which one was perad-
uenture a salt) in a good farmer's house, and yet for all this frugalitie l
(if it may so be iustly called) they were scarse able to Hue and paie
their rents at their daies without selling of a cow, or an horsse, or
more, although they paid but foure pounds at the vttermost by the
yeare. Such also Avas their pouertie, that if some one od farmer or
husbandman had beene at the alehouse, a thing greatlie vsed in those
daies, amongst six or seuen of his neighbours, and there in a brauerie
to shew what store he had, did cast downe his pursse, and therein a
noble or six shillings in siluer vnto them (for few such men then
cared for gold bicause it was not so readie paiment, and they were
oft inforced to giue a penie for the exchange of an angell) it was
verie likelie that all the rest could not laie downe so much against it :
whereas in my time, although peraduenture foure pounds of old rent
be improued to fortie, fiftie, or an hundred pounds, yet will the
farmer (as another palme or date tree) thinke his gaines verie small
toward the end of his terme, if he haue not six or seuen yeares
rent lieng by him, therewith to purchase a new lease, beside a faire
garnish of pewter on his cupbord, with so much more in od vessell
o-oing about the house, three or foure featherbeds, so manie couerlids
and carpets of tapistrie, a siluer salt, a bowle for wine (if not an
whole neast) and a dozzen of spoones to furnish vp the sute. This
also he taketh to be his owne cleere, for what stocke of monie
soeuer he gathereth & laieth vp in all his yeares, it is often seene,
that the landlord will take such order with him for the same, when
he renueth his lease, which is commonlie eight or six yeares before the
old be expired (sith it is now growen almost to a custome, that if he
come not to his lord so long before, another shall step in for a reuer-
sion, and so defeat him out right) that it shall neuer trouble him more
than the haire of his beard, when the barber hath washed and
shauen it from his chin. And as they commend these, so (beside the
decaie of housekeeping whereby the poore haue beene relieued) they
speake also of three things that are growen to be verie grieuous vnto
them to wit, the inhansing of rents, latelie mentioned ; the dailie
oppression of copiholders, whose lords seeke to bring their poore
tenants almost into plaine seruitude and miserie, daily deuising new
meanes, and seeking vp all the old how to cut them shorter and
1 The sidenote here is " This was in the time of generall idlenesse."
182 CONSCIENCE.
shorter, doubling, trebling, and now & tlien seuen times increasing
their fines, drilling them also for euerie trifle to loose and forfeit their
tenures (by whome the greatest part of the realme dooth stand and is
mainteined) to the end they may fleece them yet more, which is a
lamentable hering. The third thing they talke of is vsurie, a trade
brought in by the Iewes, now perfectlie practised almost by euerie
christian, and so commonlie, that he is accompted but for a foole
that dooth lend his monie for n,o thing. In time past it was Sorspro
sorte, that is, the principall onelie for the principall ; but now beside
that which is aboue the principall properlie called Vsura, we chalenge
Fcenus, that is commoditie of soile, & fruits of the earth, if not the
ground it selfe. In time past also one of the hundred was much,
from thence it rose vnto two, called in Latine Vsura, Ex sextante ;
three, to wit Ex quadrante ; then to foure, to wit Ex triente ; then to
fiue, which is Ex quincunce ; then to six, called Ex semisse, &c. : as
the accompt of the Assis ariseth, and comming at the last vnto
Vsura ex asse, it amounteth to twelue in the hundred, and therefore
the Latines call it Centesima, for that in the hundred moneth it
doubleth the principall ; but more of this elsewhere. See Cicero
against Verres, Demosthenes against Aphobus, and Atlienceus lib. 13. in
fine : and when thou hast read them well, hclpe I praie thee in
lawfull maner to hang vp such as take Centum pro cento, 1 for they are
no better worthie, as I doo iudge in conscience. Forget not also such
landlords as vse to value their leases at a secret estimation giuen of
the wealth and credit of the taker, whereby they seeme (as it were)
to eat them vp and deale with bondmen, so that if the leassee be
thought to be worth an hundred pounds, he shall paie no lesse for his
new terme, or else another to enter with hard and doubtfull couenants.
I am sorie to report it, much more greeued to vnderstand of the
practise ; but most sorowfull of all to vnderstand that men of great
port and countenance are so farre from suffering their farmers to haue
anie gaine at all, that they themselues become grasiers, butchers,
tanners, sheepmasters, woodmen, and denique quid non, thereby to
inrich themselues, and bring all the wealth of the countrie into their
owne hands, leauing the communaltie weake, or as an idoll with
broken or feeble armes, which may in a time of peace haue a plau-
sible shew, but when necessitie shall inforce, haue an heauie and
bitter sequele. — Holinshed, vol. i. p. 188-189, ed. 1586.
The date of the poem I cannot pretend to fix. " The new-
found land" of 1. 91—
1 " By the yeare " is the sidenote.
CONSCIENCE. 183
We banisht thee the country beyond the salt sea,
& sett thee on shore in the new-found land —
cannot refer, I think, to the re-discovery of Newfoundland by
John Cabot, then in the service of England, on the 24th of
June, 1497 {Penny Cycl.). The date must be later than that.
The first three stanzas of the poem, which should contain
twenty-one lines, in the Manuscript (which is written without
divisions) contain only eighteen lines. Mr. Skeat has sent me
two arrangements of them, of which the following seems the
right one :
As I walked of late by one wood side,
to god for to meditate was my entent,
where vnder a hawthorne I suddenly espyed
a silly poore creature ragged & rent,
with bloody teares his face was besprent,
his fieshe & his color consumed away,
& his garments they were all mire, mucke, & clay ;
■with turning & winding his bodye was toste,
* * * * *
******
*****
" good lord ! of my liffe depriue me, I pray,
for I, silly wretch, am ashamed of my name ;
& I cursse my godfathers that gaue me the same."
this made me muse & much desire
to know what kind of man hee shold bee ;
I stept to him straight, and did him require
his name & his secretts to shew vnto me.
his head he cast vp, & wooful was hee,
"my name," qwoth hee, " is the causer of my care,
& makes me scornd, & left here soe bare." — F.
As : I walked of late by one 1 wood side,
As I walked
2 to god for to meditate was my entent, meditate,
where vnder a hawthorne I suddenly espyed x spied
4 a silly poore creature ragged & rent ; a poor
1 an. — P. 2 perhaps On God. — P.
184
CONSCIENCE.
ragged
creature
mired all
over.
He wished
himself dead,
his name
caused his
trouble.
I asked him
to tell it me.
with bloody teares his face was besprent,
his fleshe & his color consumed away ;
1 with turning & winding his bodye was toste,
8 & his garments they were all mire, mucke, & clay.
" good lord ! of my liffe depriue me, I pray,
for I, silly wretch, am ashamed of my name !
2 my name, " quoth hee, " is the causer of my care,
12 & I cursse my godfathers that gaue me the same ! "
this made me muse, & much desire
to know what kind of man hee shold bee ; 3
I stept to him straight, & did him require
16 his name & his secretts to shew vnto me. [page 244]
his head he cast vp, & wooful was hee, 4
[" My name," quoth hee, is the causer of my care,]
& makes me scornd, & left 5 here soe bare."
then straight- way he turnd him & prayd him 6 sit
dow[ne]
He said his 20 " & I will," saithe he, " declare my whole greefe.
name was • n -1 /-< • . ,
Conscience. m y name is called Conscience ;>" wheratt he did
fro[wne]
he pined to repeate it, & grinded his teethe.
7
When young for while I was young & tender of yeeres,
24 I was entertained with Kings 8 & with. Peeres,
1 This verse is redundant. — P.
2 To come in below. — P.
3 Percy, in his Eeliques, omits three of
these lines, and transfers line 11 to
line 1 8, where it must be, at least, re-
peated, without notice to the reader. The
bishop warns his readers in his second
and later editions that some corruptions
in the old copy are here corrected, but not
without notice to the reader, where it
was necessary, by inclosing the correc-
tions between inverted ' commas.' He
must have therefore thought the omission
of lines 9, 10, and 12, a correction not
necessary to be noticed. — P.
4 The verse
[" my name " qwoth hee, " is the causer of
my care,"]
to come in here. — P.
5 The /is like an/ in the MS.— F.
6 me. — P.
7 Thoughe now silly wretche, I'm
deny'd all relief,
Yet . . . — Beliqucs.
8 kinges. — Bel.
CONSCIENCE.
185
28
'' there was ttone in all ' the court that lined in such
fame ;
for with the Ts.in.gs councell he sate 2 in Commission ;
Dukes Erles & Barrons esteemed of my name ;
& how that I liued there needs no repetition ;
I was euer holden in honest condition ;
for howsoeuer the lawes went in Westminster hall,
when sentence was giuen, for me the wold 3 call.
he was
honoured
by Dukes
and in Law
Courts.
Landlords
obeyed him ;
32 " noe Incombes 4 at all the landlord wold take,
but one pore peny, that was their fine,
& that they acknowledged to be for my sake ;
the poore wold doe nothing without councell mine ; the poor
36 I ruld the world with the right line ;
for nothing that was 5 passed betweene foe & freind,
but Conscience was called to bee at an 6 end.
the world,
"noe Merchandize nor bargaines the Merchants wold and
merchants.
ma[ke],
40 but I was called a wittenesse therto ;
no vse 7 for noe mony, nor forfett wold take,
but I wold controwle them if that they did soe ;
that makes me Hue now in great woe,
44 for then came in pride, Sathans disciple,
that now is 8 entertaind with 9 all kind of people ;
Xo usury
was prac-
tised.
" Then came
in Pride,
he brought with him 3, whose names they be these, 10 covetous-
that is couetousnes, Lechery e, vsury, 11 beside; Lechery, and
48 they neuer preuailed till they had 12 wrought my who over-
threw me.
downe-tall.
1 all omitted. — 2?< I.
2 I sate.— P.
3 they wold.— P.
4 Incomes. — P.
5 (that was) seem redundant. — P.
6 the.— P.
7 interest. — P.
8 is now. — Eel. 9 of. — P.
10 thus they call. — Eel.
11 ' & pride ' was added here in the MS.,
then struck out with a heavy ink stroke,
the acid of which has eaten the paper
away. — F.
12 had omitted. — Eel.
186
CONSCIENCE.
I tried
abroad,
52
soe pride was entertained, but Conscience was
deride. 1
yet st[i]ll 2 abroad baue 3 I tryed
to bane bad entertainment with some one or otber,
but I am reiected & scorned of my brother.
then the
Court ;
but was told
to pack off to
St. Bartholo-
mew's.
" then went I to the 4 court, the gallants to winn,
but the porter kept me out of the gates,
to Bartlwew 5 spittle, to pray for my sinnes, 6
56 they bad 7 me goe packe me ; it was fitt for my state ;
"goe, goe, threed-bare conscience, & seeke thee a
mate ! "
good Lore 7 - ! long preserue my ~K.ing, Pirince, & Queene,
with whom euer more I haue esteemed 8 beene !
Next I tried
London,
but they
sent me off
too.
60 " then went I to london, where once I did wonne, 9
but they bade away with me when the knew my
name ;
" for he will vndoe vs to bye & to sell,"
they bade me goe packe me, & bye me for shame,
64 they lought at my raggs, & there had good game ;
"this is old threed-bare Conscience that dwelt with
St. Peete[r] ;
but they wold not admitt me to be a chimney sweeper.
I spent my
last penny
in an awl and
patches to
cobble shoes,
" not one wold receiue me, the Jjord god doth know.
68 I, hauing but one poore pennye in my pursse,
of an aule 10 & some patches I did it bestow ;
I thought better to u cobble shooes then to doe worsse.
1 perhaps decried. — P.
2 now ever since. — Bel.
3 Only half the u in the MS.— P.
4 the omitted. — Bel.
5 Bartlemew. — Bel.
6 Sin.— P.
7 me omitted in 1? ed?, restored in
2"?— Bel.
8 esteemed I've. — P. I ever esteemed
have. — Bel.
3 perhaps dwell, (idem) — P. dwell.
Bel.
10 On an awl. — P.
11 For I thought better.— Bel.
CONSCIENCE.
is;
straight then all they * Coblers they began to cursse, but the
cobblers
72 & by statute the wold proue me 2 I -was a rouge. & whiptmeout
_ _ of the town.
forlor|ne,J
& they whipt 3 me out of towne to see 4 where I was
borne.
76
80
" then did I remember & call to my minde
they court 5 of conscience where once I did sit,
not doubting but there some favor I shold find,
for 6 my name & the place agreed soe fitt.
but therof my 7 purpose I fayled a whitt,
for the 8 iudge did vse my name in euerye condic/on 9
for Lawyers with their qu[i]lletts ,0 wold get a 11
dismission.
I tried the
Court of
Conscience,
but there the
lawyers
wheedled me
out.
" then Westminster hall was noe place for me ; Then i went
good god ! 12 how the Lawyers began to assemblee ; sterHaii,
and the
& fearfull they were lest there I shold be ! lawyers
84 the silly poore clarkes began to tremblee ; l3
I showed them my cause, & did not dissemble,
soe then they gaue me some mony my charges to beare, gave me
but they 14 swore me on a booke Imust neuercome there, butmade me
swear to go.
88 "then 15 the Merchants said, ' counterfeite, get thee The mer-
chants too
away, rejected me,
dost thou remember how wee thee found ? 1G
we banisht thee the country beyond the salt sea,
& sett thee on shore in the new-found land, 17
the.— P.
(I was) clelend. — P.
And whipp. — Bel.
seeke. — Bel.
The court.— P.
Sith. — Bel.
there of my. — P. sure of my. — Bel.
usd. — Bel.
For tho' — coiiiission. — P.
10 The Lawyers — quillets.
11 raj.— Bel.
12 lord.— Bel.
13 tremble.— Eel.
14 they omitted. — Bel.
' 5 Next.— Bel.
1U fond.— Bel.
17 loud.— P. land.— Bel.
188
CONSCIENCE.
92 & there thow & wee most freinclly shook hands ; ]
& we were verry 2 glad when thou did refuse vs,
for when we wold reape proffitt heere 3 thou wold 4
accuse vs.'
so I had to
go to Gentle-
men'shouses,
and tell them
I had made
their fore-
fathers grant
just leases.
They cursed
me.
" then had I noe way but for to goe an 5
96 to gentlemens houses of an ancyent name,
declaring my greeffes ; & there I made moane, [page 245]
& 6 how there 7 forfathers had held me in fame,
& in letting of their ffarmes I alwayes vsed the same. 8
100 the sayd, " fye vpon thee ! we may thee cursse !
they haue leases 9 continue, & we fare the worsse."
At last I was
driven to
husband-
men ;
but land-
lords had left
them no-
thing to give
away ;
so I am in
this wood,
and eat hips
and haws,
but am
comforted
by Mercy,
Pity, and
Almsdeeds.
104
" & then I was forced a begging to goe
to husbandsmens houses ; who greeved right sore,
who sware that their Landlords had plaged them so
sore
10
that they were not able to keepe open doore,
nor nothing the n had left to giue to the pore,
therfore to this wood I doe repayre
108 with, hepps & hawes ; that is my best fare.
" & yet within this same desert some comfort I haue
of Mercy, of pittye, & of almes-deeds,
who haue vowed to company me to my 12 graue.
112 wee are ill 13 put to silence, & Hue vpon weeds ; 14
our banishment is their vtter decay,
the w/w'ch the rich glutton will answer one day."
1 hond.-— P.
2 right. — Ret.
3 proffitt heere omitted. — Eel.
4 woldst.— Bel.
5 on.— Bel.
6 Telling.— Bel.
' their.— P.
8 And at letting their farmes how
always I came. — Bel.
9 their leases, i. e. the indulgent Leases
let by our forefathers. — P.
10 soe.— Bel.
11 (the) redundflMt. — P.
12 ny in the MS. — P.
13 all.— Bel.
14 and hence such cold housekeeping
proceeds. — Bel.
CONSCIENCE. 189
'why then," I said to him, " methinkes it were best "Go to the
116 to goe to the Clergee ; for dealye 1 the preach i.
eche man to loue you aboue all the rest ;
of mercy & of Pittie & of almes they doe 2 teach."
"0," said he, "no matter of a pin what they doe ifdbe
no
good ; their
preacn, wives and
120 for their wiues & their children soe hangs them vpon, their giving.
that whosoeuer giues almes deeds 3 they will 4 giue
none."
then Laid he him downe, & turned him away,
prayd 5 me to goe & leaue him to rest,
124 I told him I might happen to 6 see the day
to haue 7 him & his fellowes to hue with the best ; Banish
8 " first," said hee, " you must banish pride, & then England
will be blest.
ail Lnglancl were blest, 9
& I0 then those wold loue vsthatnow sells 11 their lands, 12
128 & then good houses euerye where wold be kept 13 out of
hand."
ffins.
1 daily.— P. 8 This line written as two in the MS.
2 doe omitted. — Bel. — F.
3 deeds omitted. — Bel. 9 First stud he, banish Pryde : Then
4 It ought in justice and Truth to be all Engl«wd were blest. — P. These make
" can."— P. two lines in the MS.— F.
5 And prayd.— Bel. ,0 For.— Bel.
6 haplie might yet. — Rd. " sell. — Bel.
7 For.-7W. I2 land.— P.
13 house-keeping wold revive. — Bel.
190
23url)am ffriitst, 1
Says Shakespeare's Henry V. :
You s]jall read, that my grandfather
Never went with his forces into France,
But that the Scot on his unfurnisht kingdom
Came pouring, like a tide into a breach,
With ample and brim-fullness of his force ;
Galling the gleaned land with hot assays ;
Girdling, with grievous siege, castles and towns,
That England being empty of defence
Hath shook and trembled at th' ill neighbourhood.
Perhaps the best account of the expedition celebrated in the
following ballad is given by Fordun. " The local accuracy,"
observes Surtees, " with which Fordun describes the advance of
the English army from Auckland, .... infers that his account
must have been received from eye-witnesses." Other accounts
are furnished by Knighton, Walsingham, Froissart. Harl MS.
No. 4843 contains an ancient monkish poem on it.
The confidence of the Scotch King is amusingly represented
in the First Part of the ballad.
Oddly enough, nothing is said of the Queen, who, though
probably Froissart exaggerates the part she played, yet was
certainly not remote from the scene of the conflict. One would
have expected her presence to have been made much of by the
ballad-writer.
John Copeland, who captured the King, was a Northumbrian
esquire. He was afterwards Governor of Berwick and Sheriff of
Northumberland.
1 Fought Oct 1 : 17, 1346, at St, Nevil's inrode (sic) into England by the Scotts,
Cross, near Durham. " An excellent" & the taking of their King, while
[half scratched out]. — P. Edward 3? was in France. — P.
Old Ballad. The Subject is the
EURHAM FEILDE.
191
LORDINGES, listen, & hold yo[u] » still
hearken to me a litle ;
I shall you tell of the fairest battell
that euer in England beffell.
Listen,
and I'll tell
you of a fair
battle.
for as it befell in Edward the 3 d f dayes, 2
in England, where he ware the crowne,
then all the cheefe chiualry of England
8 they busked 3 & made them bowne 4 ;
When Ed-
ward III.
was king,
all his
knights
they chosen all the best archers
that in England might be found,
and all was to fight with the Kmg of ffrance
12 wt'thin a litle stounde. 5
and archers
went to fight
the French.
and when our ~Kmg was ouer the water,
and on the salt sea gone,
then ty dings into Scotland came
16 that all England was gone ;
Then the
Scotch hear
bowes and arrowes they were all forth,
at home was not left a man G
but shepards and Millers both,
20 & preists with shauen crownes.
that no men
are left in
England
but millers
and priests.
24
then the King of Scotts in a study stood,
as he was a man of great might ;
he sware ' he wold hold his
London
if he cold ryde there right.'
The Scotch
king
Parlame^i! in leeue 7 swears he'll
ride to
London.
1 ? MS. ; it may be yo. — F.
- when Edward the 3<J — P.
: ' See P. 397, st. 46. (of MS.)— P.
1 bourne, paratus, L. — P.
s Stownd, sigmim, momentum, spa-
tium, hora, tempus. Lye. — P.
6 mon.— P. See vol. i. p. 217, 1. 109.
— F.
' Lceve, perhaps the same as leef,
lief, leif, dear, beloved — A.-S. leofa, belg.
lief. Teut. lieb, charus, amicus, gratus.
Gloss? to Gaw" Douglas.— P.
192
DURHAM FEILDE.
A squire
tells him he'll
rue his
resolve,
then bespake a Squier of Scottlancl borne,
& sayd, " my leege, apace,
before you come to leeue London
28 full sore youle rue that race !
" ther beene bold yeomen in merry England,
husbandmen stiffe & strong ;
sharpes swords they done weare,
32
bearen bowes & arrowes longe."
for which
the King
kills him,
so no one else
dares say a
word.
James tells
the Earl of
Angus to
lead the van,
and promises
him North-
umberland.
To the Earl
of Buohan he
promises
Derbyshire ;
the "King was angry e at that word,
a long sword out hee drew,
and there befor his royall companye
36 his owne squier hee slew.
hard hansell had the Scottes that day
that wrought them woe enoughe,
for then durst not a Scott speake a word
40 ffor hanging att a boughe,
" the Earle of Anguish, 1 where art thou ?
in my coate armor 2 thou shalt bee,
and thou shalt lead the forward 3
44 thorrow the English countrye.
" take thy 4 yorke," then sayd the King,
" in stead wheras it doth stand ;
He make thy eldest sonne after thee
48 heyre of all Northumberland.
" the Earle 5 of Vaughan, 6 where be yee ?
in my coate armor thou shalt bee ;
the high Peak & darbyshire
52 I giue it thee to thy fee."
[page 246]
1 Earl of Angus.— P. d in the MS.— F.
- Cote-Armour. A name applied to * thee, i.e. to thee. — P.
the tabard by Chaucer and others. 5 The I is made over an e. — F.
Fairholt. — F. 6 It sho?dd be Baughan, i. e. Buehan.
3 vaward. — P. There is a tag to the — P.
DUIWAM FE1LDE.
then came in famous Douglas,
saies, " what shall my meede bee ?
& He lead the vawward, 1 Lord,
56 thorow the English countrye."
" take thee Worster," sayd the "King,
"Tuxburye, 2 Killingworth, Burton vpon trent ;
doe thou not say another day
60 but I haue giuen thee lands and rent.
" Sir Richard of Edenborrow, where are yee ?
a wise man in this warr !
He giue thee Bristow & the shire
64 the time that wee come there.
" my Jjord Nevill, where beene yee ?
you must in this warres bee !
Be giue thee Shrewsburye," saies the K.ing,
68 "and Couentrye faire & free.
" my LorcZ of Hambleton, where art thou ?
thou art of my kin full nye ;
Be giue thee lincolne & Lincolneshire,
72 & thats enouge for thee."
by then came in William Douglas
as breeme 3 as any bore ;
he kneeled him downe vpon his knees,
76 in his hart he sighed sore,
saies, " I haue serued you, my louelye leege,
this 30 winters and 4,
& in the Marches 4 betweene England & Scottland
80 I haue beene wounded & beaten sore ;
193
to 1 louglas,
Wor<>
to Sir
Richard of
Edinburgh,
Bristol and
its shire ;
to Lord
Nevill,
Shrewsbury
and Coven-
try ;
to Lord
Hambleton,
Lincoln-
shire.
William
Douglas
reminds the
King of his
long services,
1 i. e. the Van, the Vanguard. Fr. avant-
guarde. L. — P.
2 qu. MS.— F.
3 hreme, ferox, atrox, cruel, sharp,
severe. Lye. — P,
VOL. II.
4 Marches, confinia, limites, alicujus
territorii : refer ad Mark Scut is.
March, a landmark, &c. Vid. Lye, ad
Jim.— P.
194
DURHAM FEILDE.
and asks
what his re-
ward is to be.
84
" for all the good service that I haue done,
what shall my meed bee ?
& I will lead the vanward
thorrow the English conntrye."
" AVhatever
you ask,"
answers
James.
" Then I ask
for London."
88
" aske on, donglas," said the King,
" & granted it shall bee."
" why then, I aske litle London," saies William
Donglas,
" gotten giff that it bee."
James
refuses that,
the K«j was wrath, and rose away,
saies, " nay, that cannot bee !
for that I will keepe for my cheefe chamber,
92 gotten if it bee ;
but gives
Douglas N.
Wales and
Cheshire,
" bnt take thee North wales & weschaster,
the cnntrye all round about,
& rewarded thou shalt bee,
96 of that take thou noe doubt."
makes 100
new knights
and gives
them the
English
towns.
100
5 score ~knights he made on a day,
& dubbd them with, his hands ;
rewarded them right worthilye
with the townes in merry England.
They make
ready for
battle,
& when the fresh "knights they were made,
to battell the buske them bowne ; l
lames Douglas went before,
104 & he thought to haue wonnen him shoone.
but the
English
Commons
meet them,
and let none
escape ;
but the were mett in a morning of May
with the coniminaltye of litle England ;
but there scaped neuer a man away
108 through the might of christes hand,
1 See Page 397, st. 46 [of MS.].— P.
DURHAM FEILDE.
195
112
but all onely lames Douglas ;
in Durham in the ffeild
an arrow stroke him in the thye.
fast flinge[s he] towards the ~King.
the Kmg looked toward litle Durham,
saies, " all things is not well !
for lames Dowglas beares an arrow in his thye,
116 the head of it is of Steele.
except
Dougla ;,
■who is
wounded
and flees to
the King.
"how now lames ? " then said the YLing,
" how now, how may this bee ?
& where beene all thy merrymen
120 That thou tooke hence With thee ? "
James asks
where his
men are.
[page 247]
" but cease, my K%," saies lames l Douglas,
" aliue is not left a man ! "
"now by my faith," saies the l&ng of scottes,
124 " that gate 2 was euill gone ;
All dead.
James vows
" but He reuenge thy quarrell well,
& of that thou may be fame ;
for one Scott will beate 5 Englishmen
128 if the meeten them on the plaine."
revenge ;
one Scot is a
match for
five English.
" now hold jour tounge," saies lames Douglas,
" for in faith that is not soe ;
for one English man is worth 5 Scotts
132 when they meeten together thoe ;
" for they are as Egar men to fight
as a faulcon vpon a pray,
alas ! if eue>- the wirme the van ward,
136 there scapes noe man away."
" No," says
Douglas,
" one Eng-
lishman is
worth five
Scots ;
they let no
one escape
alive."
1 lanes in the MS.— F.
2 gate, via a way : march or walk. Lye. — P.
o 2
196
DURHAM FEILDE.
A herald
reports to
James
" peace thy talking," said the King,
" they bee but English knanes,
but shepards & Millers both,
140 & [mass] preists with their staues."
the King sent forth one of his heralds of armes
to vew the Englishmen,
"be of good cheere," the herald said,
that he has
English one, 144 " for against one wee bee ten."
" who leades those Ladds ? " said the King of Scottes,
"thou herald, tell thou mee."
the herald said, " the Bishopp of Durham
148 is captaine of that company e ;
whom the
Bishop of
Durham
leads.
for the Bishopp hath spred the Kings banner
& to battell he buskes him bowne,"
" I sweare by St. Andrewes bones," saies the King,
152 "He rapp that preist on the crowne ! "
James sees
Lord Percy
in the field.
156
2') part<(
160
[Part II.]
"The King looked towards litle Durham,
& that hee well beheld,
that the Earle Percy was well armed,
with his battell axe entred the feild.
the King looket againe towards litle Durham,
4 ancyents there see hee ;
there were to standards, 6 in a valley,
he cold not see them with his eye.
There, too,
are Lords
York, Car-
lisle,
andtwoFitz-
williams.
My Lord of yorke was one of them,
my lord of Carlile was the other ;
& my Lord fnuwilliams,
164 the one came with the other.
DTK HAM FEILDE.
the Bishopp of Durham commanded his men,
& shortlye he them bade,
' that neuer a man shold goe to the feild to fight
168
till he had serued his god.'
197
The Bishop
orders all his
men
to hear mass.
500 preists said masse that day
in durham in the feild ;
& afterwards, as I hard say,
172 they bare both speare & sheeld.
500 priests
say it,
and then
take arms,
the Bishopp of Durham * orders himselfe to fight
with his battell axe in his hand ;
he said, " this day now I will fight
176 as long as I can stand ! "
as does the
Bishop.
" & soe will I," sayd my Lore? of Carlile,
" in this faire morning gay ; "
" & soe will I," said my Lore? fliuwilliams,
180 " for Mary, that myld may."
Carlisle
and the
Fitzwilliams
swear to
fight.
our English archers bent their bowes
shortlye and anon,
they shott oner the Scottish Oast
184 & scantlye 2 toucht a man.
Our archers
first
shoot too
hkrh.
" hold downe jour hands," sayd the Bishopp of Durham, The Bishop
orders them
" my archers good & true."
the 2^ shoote that the shott,
188 full sore the Scottes itt rue.
to shoot low.
They do,
and punish
tlir Scots,
the Bishopp of Durham spoke on hye
that both partyes might heare,
"be of good cheere, my merrymen all,
192 the Scotts flyen, & changen there cheere ! "
1 Durban in IMS.— F.
2 scantly, scarcely. — P.
198
DURHAM FEILDE.
who fall in
heaps.
196
but as the saidden, soe the didden,
they fell on heapes hye ;
our Englishmen laid on with their bowes
as fast as they might dree.
King James
is shot
through the
nose,
1 The King of Scotts in a studye stood
amongst his companye,
an arrow stoke him thorrow the nose
200 & thorrow his armorye.
[page 248]
gets off his
horse,
the ~King went to a marsh side
& light beside his steede,
he leaned him downe on his sword hilts
204 to let his nose bleede.
and is sum-
moned to
yield by an
English
yeoman ,
Copland.
James
refuses,
and strikes
at Copland,
there followed him a yeaman of merry England,
his name was lohn of Coplande :
"yeeld thee Traytor ! " saies Coplande then,
208 " thy liffe lyes in my hand."
" how shold I yeeld me ? " sayes the King,
" & thou art noe gentleman."
"noe, by my troth," sayes Copland there,
212 "I am but a poore yeaman ;
" what art thou better then I, Sir King ?
tell me if that thou can !
what art thou better then I, Sir King,
216 now we be but man to man ? "
the King smote angerly at Copland then,
angerly in that stonde 2 ;
& then Copland was a bold yeaman,
who floors 220 & bore the King to the ground.
1 Here a short leaf is inserted in the small one of most of his notes. — P.
MS. in a more modern hand, Percy's late 2 stound. — ? Percy.
upright hand, differing from the early
DURHAM FEILDE.
199
he sett the King upon a Palfrey,
himselfe upon a steede,
he tooke him by the bridle rayne,
224 towards London he can him Lead.
puts him on
a palfrey.
and takes
him to
London,
& when to London that he came,
the King from ffrance was new come home,
& there unto the Kmg of Scottes
228 he sayd these words anon,
where King
Edward is.
" how like you my shepards & my millers,
my priests With shaven crownes ? ' :
"by my fayth, they are the sorest fighting men
232 that ever I mett on the ground ;
" there was never a yeaman in merry England
but he was worth a Scottish knight ! "
"I, by my troth," said King Edward, & laughe,
236 " for you fought all against the right."
Edward nsks
James how
he likes his
millers and
priesl
'• They're
the hardest
fighters I
ever met."
but now the Prince of merry England
worthilye under his Sheelde
hath taken the Kmg of ffrance
240 at Poy tiers in the ffeelde.
the Prince did present his father with that food, 1
the louely King off ffrance,
& fforward of his Iourney he is gone :
244 god send us all good chance !
The King of
France is
also taken
at Poictiers
by the Black
Prince,
" you are welcome, brothers ! " sayd the King of Scotts, and both he
^ and the
to the King of ffrance, Scotch King
" for I am come hither to soone ;
Christ leeve that I had taken my way
248 unto the court of Roome ! "
1 feod or feodary. -P. Person : see note 2 , p. 456, vol. i. — F.
200
DURHAM FEILDE.
wish they
had kept out
of England.
Durham
Field,
Cressy, and
Poictiers,
all won in a
month !
Then was
wealth
and mirth in
England,
and the King
loved the
yeomanry !
God save
him, and the
yeomen too !
" & soe wold I," said the King of ffrance,
" when I came over the streame,
that I had taken my Iourney
252 nnto Ierusalem."
Thus ends the battell of ffaire Durham
in one morning of may,
the battell of Cressey, & the battle of Potyers,
All within one monthes day.
[page 249]
256
260
264
then was welthe & welfare in mery England,
Solaces, game, & glee,
& every man loved other well,
& the King loved good yeomanrye.
but God that made the grasse to growe,
& leaves on greenwoode tree,
now save & keepe our noble King,
& maintaine good yeomanry ! ffillis. 1
1 {Pencil note in Percy's late hand.)
" This & 2 following Leaves being un-
fortunately torn out, in sending the sub-
sequent piece [King Estmere] to the
Press, the conclusion of the preceding
ballad has been carefully transcribed ;
and indeed the fragments of the other
Leaves ought to have been so."
The loss of Kin// Estmere is much to
be lamented. It was, perhaps, the best
ballad in the Manuscript. Percy says
in the 2nd edition of the Reliques,
p. 59, that " this old Romantic Legend . .
is given from two copies, one of them in
the Editor's folio MS."; but we have not
been able to find the second copy. It is
not in the other small MS. in the posses-
sion of the Bishop's descendants now.
It is evident at a glance that Percy must
have touched up the ballad somewhat,
as in line 4 he has y-were, were, for a
perfect tense, y being the past participle
prefix ; and a comparison of the first
three editions with the 4th shows what
liberties he took with the (supposed)
text of the MS. Some of these will be
pointed out in a note at the end of this
vol nine. The thing to be noticed here is
that Percy must have deliberately and
unnecessarily torn three leaves out of
his MS. when preparing his 4th edition
for the Press, and after he had learnt — to
use his own words — to reverence the MS.
These leaves were in the MS. till that
time, as he says in his note on " Ver. 253.
Some liberties have been taken in the
following stanzas ; but wherever this
edition differs from the preceding, it
hath been brought nearer to the folio
MS." As the differences of the fourth
from the other editions, after v. 253,
are only in spelling louJced, 'looked,' and
wyfe, ' wiffe,' we must take the latter
part of Percy's sentence to apply to the
whole ballad. By tearing out the leaves
he has prevented us from knowing the
extent of his large changes, and has
sacrificed not only the original of the
whole of King Estmere but also the first
22 (or more or less) stanzas of Guy and
Phil/is, of which his version is printed
in the Reliques iii. 143, 4th ed., and
Child's Ballads i. 63-6. I calculate
Percy's additions to Estmere and the
lost part of Guy at 40 lines. — F.
201
[A fragment.]
[See the General Introduction to all the Guy Poems in Guy $ Colcbrande below.
The beginning of this Poem was on one of the torn-out leaves of the MS. |
In winsor fforrest I did slay
a bore of passing might & strenght, 2
whose like hi England neuer was
4 for hugnesse, both for breadth & lenght ;
some of his bones in warwicke yett
w/thin the Castle there doth 3 Lye ;
one of his sheeld bones to this day
8 doth hang in the Citye of Couentrye.
on Dunsmore heath I alsoe slewe
a mightye wyld & cruell beast
calld the Duncow of Dunsmore heath,
12 which, many people had opprest ;
some of her bones in warwicke yett
there for a monument doth 4 lye,
which, vnto euery lookers veue
16 as wonderous strange they may espye.
another dragon in this Land
in fight I alsoe did destroye,
who did bothe men & beasts opresse,
20 & all the countrye sore anoye ;
& then to warwicke came againe
like Pilgrim poore, & was not knowen ;
& there I liued a Hermitts liffe
24 a mile & more out of the towne ;
[page 254] In Windsor
Forest I
slew a big
boar,
some of
whose bones
are in
Warwick
Castle
and
Coventry.
On Duns-
more Heath
I slew
the Dun
Cow,
whose bones
are also in
Warwick.
Another
Dragon I
also slew,
anil then
came back
tn Warwick,
and lived a
hermit's life,
1 Title written in by P.— F.
2 stremght in the MS.— F.
do.— P. 4 do.— P.
202
GUT AND PIIILLIS.
m a cave
cut out of a
rock,
and
begged my
food at my
own castle
of my wife.
where with my hands I hewed a house
out of a craggy rocke of stone,
& liued like a palmer poore
28 wt'thin the caue my selfe alone ;
& daylye came to begg my foode
of Phillis att my castle gate,
not knowing l to my loued wiffe,
32 who daylye moned for her mate ;
At last I fell
sick,
sent her a
ring,
and she
closed my
dying eyes.
I died like a
palmer to
save my soul.
You may
see my
statue now.
till att the last I fell soe sicke,
yea, sicke soe sore that I must dye.
I sent to her a ring of gold
36 by w/w'ch shee knew me presently e ;
then shee, repairing to the graue,
befor that I gaue vp the ghost
shee closed vp my dying eyes,
40 my Phillis faire, whom I loued most.
thus dreadfull death did me arrest,
to bring my corpes vnto the graue ;
& like a palmer dyed I,
44 wherby I sought my soule to saue.
tho now it be consumed to mold,
my body that endured this toyle,
my stature ingrauen in Mold
this present time you may behold.
48
ffins.
1 knowen. — P.
203
The rescue of a prisoner was a favourite subject with the
ballad-makers of the Borders. There are in the Minstrelsy of
the Scottish Border " no fewer than three poems on the rescue
of prisoners, the incidents in which nearly resemble each other;
though the poetical description is so different, that the editor
did not think himself at liberty to reject any one of them as
borrowed from the others." These three are Jock o' the Side,
Kinmont Willie, and Archie of Catfield. The ballad here
given for the first time is vitally the same with Jock o' the Side.
The persons are partly changed : Sybill o' the Side takes the
place of the Lady Downie of Scott's ballad ; Much the Miller's
Son answers to the Laird's Saft Wat, though as the Folio copy
does not give the names of the five who accompany Hobbie
Noble, the Laird's Saft Wat may have been one of them. The
incidents differ very slightly : as at Culerton or Cholerford, when
the rescuers are going and returning, at Newcastle where the
Minstrelsy copy brings in " a proud porter " to be duly made
away with, at the gaol on the way back, where that same copy
gives the banter with which the heavy-ironed prisoner was
assailed by his triumphant friends. The Folio copy is a very
fresh, valuable version of the ballad.
" The reality of this story," says Scott, " rests solely upon
the foundation of tradition. Jock o' the Side seems to have
been nephew to the laird of Margertoun, cousin to the Laird's
Jock, one of his deliverers, and probably brother to Chrystie of
the Syde, mentioned in the list of border clans, 1597. Like
the Laird's Jock, he is also commemorated by Sir Eicbard
Maitland :
204
JOHN : A : SIDE.
He is weil kend, Johne of the Syde,
A greater theif did never ryde ;
He never tyris
For to brek byris,
Our inuir and myris
Ouir gude and guide.
John-a-Side
is taken,
and sent
prisoner to
Newcastle.
His mother,
Sybil],
tells Lord
Mangerton.
PEETER a whifeild 1 he hath slaine ;
& Iohn a side, he is tane ;
& Iohn is bound both hand & foote,
4 & to the New-castle he is gone.
but Tydinges came to the Sybill o the side,
by the water side as shee rann ;
shee tooke her kirtle by the hem,
8 & fast shee rami to Mangerton.
the Lord was sett downe at his meate ;
when these tydings shee did him tell,
neuer a Morsell might he eate.
Lords and
Ladies
lament,
12 but lords the wrunge their fingars white,
Ladyes did pull themselues by the haire,
crying " alas and weladay !
for Iohn o the side wee shall neuer see more 2 !
and vow to
lose their all
or rescue
him.
16 " but weele goe sell our droues of Kine,
& after them our oxen sell,
& after them our troopes of sheepe,
but wee will loose him out of the New-castel!."
Hobby Noble 20 but then bespake him hobby noble,
offers to
fetch John, & spoke these words wonderous live,
with five . J '
«"«i. sayes " giue me 5 men to my selfe,
& He feitch Iohn o the side to thee."
[page 255]
1 ? The first i may be t. — F.
2 maire. — P.
.John : A : side.
205
24 " yea, thoust kane 5, hobby noble,
of the best that are in this conntrye !
lie giue thee 5000, hobby Noble,
that walke in Tyuidale trulye."
The lord
promises
5000 ;
28 " nay, He haue bnt 5," saies hobby Noble,
" that shall walke away wi'th mee ;
wee will ryde like noe men of warr ;
bnt like poore badgers 1 wee wilbe."
but Ilobby
will only
have five,
dressed as
corn-dealers.
32 they stuff et vp all their baggs w/th straw,
& their steeds barefoot mnst bee ;
" come on my bretheren," sayes hobby noble,
" come on jour wayes, & goe w/th mee."
They start,
36 & when they came to Cnlerton 2 ford,
the water was vp, they cold it not goe ;
& then they were ware of a good old man,
how his boy & hee were at the plowe.
but at
Culerton
Ford find the
water up.
40 " bnt stand you still," sayes hobby noble,
" stand you still heere at this shore,
& I will ryde to yonder old man,
& see were the gate 3 it Lyes ore.
44 "but christ you saue, father," Q?<oth hee,
" crist both you saue and see !
where is the way ouer this fford ?
for christs sake tell itt mee ! "
Hobby
asks an old
man
the way
over the
ford.
48 " but I haue dwelled heere 3 score yeere,
soe haue I done 3 score and 3 ;
I neuer sawe man nor horsse goe ore
except itt were a horse of 3. 4 "
The old man
won't tell it.
1 corn-dealers, Fr. bladiers. — F.
2 Challerton, probably. — P.
3 way, ford. — F.
4 Tree, qu.— P.
206
JOHN : A : SIDE.
Hobby tells
him to go to
the devil,
52 " but fare thou well, thou good old man ;
the devill in hell I leave with thee !
noe better comfort heere this night
thow giues my bretheren heere & me."
and rides
back to his
mates.
They find
the ford,
56 but when he came to his brether againe,
& told this tydings full of woe,
& then they found a well good gate
they might ryde ore by 2 and 2.
and get safe
over,
60 and when they were come ouer the fforde,
all safe gotten att the last,
" thankes be to god ! " sayes hobby nobble,
" the worst of our perill is past."
cut down a
tree, 33 ft.
high,
64 & then they came into howbrame wood,
& there then they found a tree,
& cutt itt downe then by the roote ;
the lenght was 30 ffoote and 3.
carry it to
John-a-
Side's prison,
68 & 4 of them did take the planke
as light as it had beene a fflee,
& carryed itt to the Newcastle
where as Iohn a side did lye ;
and climb up
to where he
is lamenting
his fate.
72 & some did climbe vp by the walls,
& some did climbe vp by l the tree,
vntill they came vpp to the top of the castle
where Iohn made his moane trulye :
He takes
leave of his
mother
Sybill,
76 he sayd, " god be with thee, Sybill o the side !
my owne mother thou art," Quoth, hee,
" if thou knew this knight 2 I were here,
a woe woman then woldest thou bee !
1 MS. eaten through by ink. — F.
night.— P.
JOHN
SIDE.
207
80 " & fare you well, ~Lord Mangerton !
& euf/r I say ' god be with thee ! '
for if you knew this night I were heere,
you wold sell your land for to loose mee.
of Lord
Mangerton,
84 " & fare thou well, Much Millers sonne !
Much Millars sonne, I say ;
thou has beene better att Merke midnight
then euer thou was att noone o the day.
of Much the
Miller's son,
88 " & fare thou well, my good Lord Clough !
thou art thy ffathers sonne & heire ;
thou neuer saw him l in all thy liffe,
but with him durst thou breake a speare.
and of Lord
Clough ;
92 " wee are brothers childer 9: or :10:
& sisters children 10: or :11:
we neuer come to the feild to fight,
but the worst of us was counted a man."
and boasts
that his
family is
large and
brave.
96 but then bespake him hobynoble,
& spake these words vnto him,
saies, " sleepest thou, wakest thou, Iohn o the side,
or art thou this castle within ? "
Hobby tells
him
100 " But who is there," Q?ioth Iohn oth side, [page 256]
" that knowes my name soe right & free ? "
" I am a bastard brother of thine ;
this night I am comen for to loose thee."
he has come
to free him.
104 " now nay, now nay," quoth Iohn othe side ;
"itt ffeares me sore that will not bee ;
ffor a pecke of gold & silver," Iohn sayd,
" infaith this night will not loose mee."
I fear not,
says John ;
1 man. — F.
208 JOHN : A : SIDE.
but Hobby 108 but then bespake him hobby Noble,
& till his brother thus sayd hee,
says bis tour sayes, "4 shall take this matter in hand,
and 2 shall tent our geldings ffree."
can do it.
112 for 4 did breake one dore without,
They break then Iohn brake 5 himsell ;
and get to but when they came to the Iron dore,
it smote 12 vpon the bell.
the iron one.
Much fears n6 " itt ffeares me sore," sayd much the Miller,
they'll be
taken. « f] ia t heere taken wee all shalbee.
" but goe away, bretheren," sayd Iohn a side,
"for euer, alas ! this will not bee."
Hobby ]20 "but ffye vpon thee ! " sayd Hobby Noble ;
reproaches
him, " Much the Miller ! fye vpon thee !
"it sore feares me," said Hobby Noble,
" man that thou wilt neue/- bee."
124 but then he had nianders files 2 or 3,
files down & hee fyled downe that Iron dore,
door. & tooke Iohn out of the New-castle,
takes John . . ,,
out, & sayd " looke thou neuer come liecre more !
128 when he had him fforth of tbe Newcastle,
" away with me, Iohn, thou shalt ryde."
but euer alas ! itt cold not bee ;
for Iohn cold neither sitt nor stryde.
wraps sheets 132 but then he had sheets 2 or 3,
round his '
chain? ' & bound Iohns boults fast to his ffeete,
and sets him & se tt him on a well e-ood steede,
on a horse
himselfe on another by him seete.
john : A : side.
209
136 then Hobby Noble smiled & louge, 1
& spoke these words in mickle pryde,
" thon sitts soe finely on thy geldinge
that, Iohn, thou rydes like a bryde."
■worn an -
fashion.
140 & when they came thorrow HOWBBAME towne,
Iohns horsse there stumbled at a stone ; 2
" out & alas ! " cryed much the Miller,
" Iohn, thoule make vs all be tane."
Mnch the
Miller gets
into another
fright.
144 " but fye vpon thee! " saies Hobby Noble,
" much the Millar, fye on thee !
I know full well," sayes Hobby Noble,
" man that thou wilt neue/ bee ! "
and is again
snubbed by
Hobby
Noble,
148 & when the came into howbeame wood,
he had fflanders files 2 or 3
to file Iohns bolts beside his ffeete,
that hee might ryde more easilye.
who files off
John's
chains from
his feet.
152 sayes Iohn, " Now leape ouer a steede,'
& Iohn then hee lope oue>- 5 :
" I know well," sayes Hobby Noble,
" Iohn, thy ffellow is not aliue ! "
Thereupon
John leaps
over five
horses,
156 then he brought him home to Mangerton ;
the Lord then he was att his meate ;
but when Iohn o the side he there did see,
for faine hee cold noe more eate ;
and goes
home to
Lord
Mangerton.
ico he sayes "blest be thou, Hobby Noble,
th at euer thou wast man borne !
thou hast feitched vs home good Iohn oth side
that was now cleane ffrom vs gone ! "
ffins.
Lord
Mangerton
blesses
Hobby
Noble.
1 lough e. — P.
2 stane.— P.
VOL. II.
210
mtefnge m tfte ftorflbn 1
This ballad is printed in the Reliques, " from two MS. copies,
one of them in the Editor's folio collection. They contained {sic)
considerable variable variations, out of which such readings were
chosen as seemed most poetical and consonant to history."
On the subject see the Introduction to "The Earle of West-
morelande," vol. i. p. 292, and Percy's, in the Reliques, i. 248,
l s . fc ed.
Listen,
and I'll tell
all about it.
LISTEN, liuely lordings all,
& all that beene this place wv'thin !
if youle giue eare vnto my songe,
4 I will tell you how this geere did begin.
The Earl of
Westmore-
land
turned
traitor ;
It was the good Erie of westmorlande,
a noble Erie was called hee ;
& he wrought treason against the crowne ;
8 alas, itt was the more pittye !
so did the
Earl of
North-
umberland.
& soe itt was the Erie of Northumberland,
another good Noble Erie was hee,
they tooken both vpon one part, [page 257]
12 against their crowne they wolden bee.
Earl Percy
tells his wife
he must
fight or flee.
Earle Pearcy is into his garden gone,
& after walkes his awne ladye 2 ;
" I heare a bird sing in my eare
16 that I must either flight or fflee."
1 a.d. 1569. N.B.— To correct this
by my other copy, w^ich seems more
modern. — P. The other copy in many
parts preferable to this. — Pencil note.
2 This lady was Anne, daughter of
Henry Somerset, E. of Worcester. — Bel.
RISINGE IN THE NORTHE.
211
20
" god fforbidd," sliee sajcl, " good my lord,
that euer soe that it slialbee !
but goe to London to tbe court,
& faire flail truth & honestye ! "
She advise3
him to go to
court.
" but nay, now nay, my La dye gay,
that euer it sbold soe bee ;
my treason is knowen well enoughe
24 att the court I must not bee."
He says
his treason
is too well
known.
' ' but goe to the Court ! yet, good my Lorc7,
take men enowe w/th thee ;
if any man will doe you wronge,
28 yowr warrant they ' may bee."
" but Nay, Now Nay, my Lady gay,
for soe itt must not bee ;
If I goe to the court, Ladye,
32 death will strike me, & I must dye."
She again
says, " Go to
court with
plenty of
men.'*
No, says the
Earl, "
it would be
certain
death.
" but goe to the Court ! yett, [good] my Lord,
I my-selfe will ryde with thee ;
if any man will doe you wronge,
36 yo«r borrow 2 I shalbee."
She offers to
go with him.
" but Nay, Now nay, my Lady gay,
for soe it must not bee ;
for if I goe to t 
